Hello! I have good news! I'm ahead on chapters and I'd like to offer a little incentive to the readers.
So, I'm going to propose something. I'll continue releasing one chapter per day, but I'll add one more chapter for each review you post.
Also, for every 30 Power Stones the story earns, I'll release an extra chapter.
This isn't unlimited. I'm willing to release up to 10 extra chapters. This offer will continue until next Sunday.
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In the Silver World, where the skies shimmered with soft luminescence and the crystalline library loomed like a cathedral of memory, Hinata met Takama in the inner courtyard—an open space newly shaped by her subconscious. The stones beneath them bore no dust, only the gentle echo of steps and the faint shimmer of mist. Takama stood with his hands folded behind his back, a katana at his hip and another in his hand.
"There's something I've wanted to do," he began. "I wish to pass on the sword style of the Gin family to you. So one day, you can teach it to your children."
The words hit Hinata like a tremor beneath still water. She lowered her gaze, her throat tightening.
Takama noticed the sudden change. "Something troubles you."
After a pause, she nodded slowly. "It's the seal," she whispered. "The one on my forehead… the Branch Family's curse mark. I… I learned it restricts more than just my Byakugan. It prevents us from… from having children without the clan's approval. But my seal is fully closed now. I doubt I even have that possibility."
Takama's expression hardened, then softened with deep resolve. He stepped closer, resting a firm hand on her shoulder.
"I knew," he said. "I've known. And I swear to you, Hinata, on my name, my blade, and my honor as a samurai—I will find a way. That seal will not rob you of a full life. That, I promise."
Hinata's eyes welled up. Her arms wrapped around Takama in a grateful embrace. "Thank you… Thank you."
After a moment, she looked up. "But I still struggle with the idea of hurting others. That's why I trained with a quarterstaff instead of a blade."
Takama blinked, thrown off for a second. "That puts me in a difficult position," he muttered. "You're my heir. But…"
He paused, thinking. Then his eyes lit up. "I have it! There is a type of sword, rare but known in history—a Sakabatō. A blade with its edge inverted. It cannot kill easily but still carries all the form and tradition of kenjutsu. I believe it is perfect for you."
Hinata's expression brightened. "That sounds… like exactly what I would want."
"Then it's settled. I should be arriving in the capital of the Land of Iron soon. There, I'll seek out the finest swordsmith and have a magnificent Sakabatō forged for you. And while we wait, I'll begin your training here in the Silver World."
Just then, the courtyard shimmered. A ripple of presence swept the space, and the mist parted not far from where Hinata and Takama trained. Michel emerged first, a calm guide walking beside Maeko, who now looked around with calculating grace. Her arms were crossed, brow arched—poised as ever.
"You see, I told you we would find little Hinata soon," Michel commented lightly, before nodding to Takama.
Takama turned, startled. "You? How?!"
"She insisted," Michel added. "And it seems she found the path faster than I expected."
Maeko raised a brow. "It was not so difficult. I merely followed the thread Hinata gave me."
Takama looked between them in stunned silence before giving a slow nod. "Well then... our classroom grows crowded."
Hinata gave a nervous, guilty smile as Maeko approached, already unfolding a fan with deliberate elegance.
"Now then," Maeko said, her tone both regal and playful, "since we are wasting no time, perhaps I can observe whether our young lady holds her posture as well as she holds her blade."
"Well," Takama said dryly, "It seems this place accepts guests more freely than I have imagined."
Maeko answered, "I've been helping Hinata train in etiquette. If we're using this dream world for lessons, we may as well share it."
He gave a slow, almost dazed chuckle. "You sound like Shiryū. God help us."
Maeko smirked. "She would be proud."
Takama turned to Hinata and bowed lightly. "Forgive me. I changed my plans. It seems we'll be sharing this space with Maeko."
Hinata gave him a sheepish smile.
<<<< o >>>>
Their first formal training began that night beneath the silver moon. Takama instructed her with calm precision, beginning not with blade strikes but with posture, breath, and purpose.
"This style is built on preservation. The blade is only the final gesture. Master everything before it."
With a practice blade shaped like the Sakabatō, Hinata followed his forms. Her grip was awkward, but her movements were deliberate. Soon, Takama pushed her to use her other senses.
"Don't just look. Feel my intent."
Here, Hinata drew upon the World of Intent. It flickered at first—faint silhouettes of Takama's movements before they happened, hazy premonitions rather than clarity. When he feinted, she overreacted. When he struck, she moved a breath too late. Still, she could see it—barely.
And then she tried something more daring. She added the microboost.
Power surged through her limbs. Her response time shortened. Her dodges grew tighter. But the strain of sustaining it pulled at her breath, at her muscles, at her spirit. She collapsed after the third exchange, panting.
Takama knelt beside her.
"Too soon," he said gently. "Your intent was strong. But this is a path you must walk slowly."
Hinata nodded, staring at the sky. Her heart pounded with exhaustion, but also with excitement.
She had taken her first step as a swordswoman—on her own terms.
And winter pressed on, but so did she.
In that moment, she could see it, just as she brought Maeko, she could bring more people here, not just those close to her, but everyone… one at a time…
<<<< o >>>>
The capital of the Land of Iron stood majestic under the soft burden of winter snow. Tall rooftops layered in white, streets filled with stoic samurai moving even under the biting cold. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the air carried the steel tang of training blades clashing in distant courtyards.
Takama stepped through the grand gates, wrapped in a long cloak, flanked by quiet guards. The capital pulsed with life, a disciplined rhythm of tradition and power.
His first destination: the residence of the Land of Iron's highest authority—the castle of the Daimyō.
There, in the open stone courtyard, he was met by none other than Mifune, the general of the Daimyō and a living legend among samurai.
Takama bowed deeply. "Mifune-sama."
Mifune's gaze was sharp, yet his smile was knowing. "Your return is welcome, Takama. It seems your encounter with death has benefited you. There is weight in your aura now that was absent before."
Takama straightened, taken slightly aback but not intimidated. "It is an honor that you say so. I would feel even more honored if someday I might learn from one with your reputation."
"It could be arranged," Mifune replied, eyes glinting. "Perhaps once you're rested. But your cousin, the Lord Akihiko, is eager to speak with you."
Takama bowed once more and made his way inside.
<<<< o >>>>
The chamber was warm, richly adorned but austere. There, seated beneath a hanging tapestry of snow-capped peaks, was Lord Akihiko, Daimyō of the Land of Iron—and Takama's cousin.
"You've returned at last," Akihiko said. "I want to hear everything. From Mizukusa until now."
Takama recounted the ambush, the poison, the strange ninja from Takigakure, the survival of Hinata, and their eventual return to Konoha. He left no major detail unexplained.
"I mourn your son," Akihiko said softly. "And I commend your strength. Also, congratulations on your new daughter."
Takama bowed. "I thank you. I also used my own coin to commission an investigation in Konoha. We believe the attack was the work of Takigakure ninja—but the meet's location may have been leaked. Possibly by forces tied to Elder Shimura."
Akihiko frowned. "That name comes with shadows. And it may explain why I called you here."
He stood and walked to a map pinned on the wall.
"The actions of the Village Hidden in Sound have consequences. It has come to light that their leader is Orochimaru of the Sannin—the same one who attacked Konoha. Our agreements with the land of rice must be reviewed."
He turned to Takama.
"I need someone I trust to negotiate with Daimyō. Reset the terms in our favor. Represent our strength… and our patience. Will you go?"
Takama bowed deeply. "I will."
The snow fell silently beyond the window.
And the world moved onward, ever so slightly shifted.