Feeling a surge of excitement, Masaki headed up to the third floor. This part of the house was where his parents had stored their legacy: shinobi scrolls, techniques, and notes on their experiences. The first floor held the kitchen, living room, Ayame’s room, and a storage room. The second floor was mostly for guests, with Masaki’s room in the middle. Since Ayame’s health had started to decline, she had moved downstairs to make it easier for her to get around.

Masaki reached the third floor and stopped in front of a door. It was thick and solid, obviously meant to protect whatever was inside. He reached under the mat, pulled out the hidden key, and unlocked the door.

The room held a faint smell of ink and old paper, a comforting scent that gave the space a sense of warmth and memory. Masaki took great care of the room; he kept everything clean and organized, often dusting the shelves and arranging the scrolls neatly. He hadn’t fully explored the scrolls yet, but from time to time, he would open one out of curiosity, wondering about the knowledge his parents had left behind.

After closing the door, he turned on the light and sat down at the desk. He carefully unrolled a scroll, its cover marked with the title “Chakra Refining Technique.”

The contents detailed the basics of chakra refinement—a fundamental step in becoming a shinobi. It was the key that separated ordinary people from shinobi. He’d read this scroll many times, familiarizing himself with every line, but he’d yet to put the technique into practice.

The scroll explained that chakra comes from three sources: the energy stored within a person’s body, their spiritual power, and the natural energy around them. At his age, Masaki knew he could only tap into the first type, chakra from his body.

Reviewing the scroll’s instructions, he mentally noted each step of the technique. Thanks to his excellent memory, he remembered every detail. After a few moments, he set the scroll down, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was ready to try chakra refinement for the first time.

Masaki relaxed each part of his body, bringing himself to the calm state of Zen that the chakra refining scroll described. The room was silent, and slowly, Masaki's heart grew steady and focused.

He began to imagine an endless energy within him, an infinite power waiting to be discovered. Even though there was no breeze in the room, Masaki felt a soft, warm wind flowing through his body, like sunlight on a winter day, chasing away the cold.

‘So, this is chakra?’ he thought in amazement.

This was the first time he’d truly felt this incredible energy, and it filled him with excitement. Knowing his talent was strong was one thing, but experiencing chakra himself was another. Following the scroll's instructions, Masaki carefully guided this new energy, focusing it toward his lower abdomen, where chakra was stored. Directing it there helped the chakra find a steady path, stopping it from scattering or being wasted.

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A small trace of chakra entered his lower abdomen—the first step into the world of shinobi. As he continued, each round of chakra extraction grew easier. He repeated the process, drawing energy from his body, channeling it down, and letting it settle. Warmth spread through his limbs, and he felt relaxed and at ease. His natural talent made it almost effortless, allowing him to achieve in minutes what might take others a week.

After an unknown amount of time, Masaki opened his eyes, feeling a sense of fullness in his body. It seemed he’d reached his limit for now. As he stood and stretched, his body felt refreshed and strangely light, like he’d been basking in sunlight.

Realizing it was probably late, he cleaned up the room, closed the scroll, and gently shut the door. As he made his way down to the second floor, he glanced at the dark sky through the window. Judging by the moon’s position, it must have been close to midnight. He had started around dinnertime, so hours must have passed.

Back in his room, Masaki went through his nightly routine—washing his face, soaking his feet in warm water, and changing into his favorite dinosaur pajamas, a gift from Ayame. Settling under the covers, he reminded himself to get up early tomorrow.

The next morning, Masaki woke to the sounds of movement downstairs. Though it was still dim outside, he knew it was Ayame, preparing breakfast. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly got out of bed, dressed, and headed downstairs.

Breakfast was ready on the table: seaweed-wrapped rice balls filled with tenderloin, just the way Masaki liked them. Ayame always made sure his favorite foods were prepared, something she can do since their home always well-stocked with supplies.

After breakfast, he thanked Ayame and set off for a morning stroll. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few Uchiha clan members on patrol, stifling yawns as they went about their duty. As members of the Konoha Police Force, Uchiha clan members kept the peace in the village, a role they took seriously.

Masaki’s home was in the southern part of the Uchiha district, not the most central area but still close enough to the heart of Konoha. He walked leisurely down the streets, heading toward the spot where Shisui had mentioned he lived. If he found him, he’d treat him to some snacks as promised; if not, well, he’d just have a little treat for himself. Either way, it felt like a good start to the day.

Soon, he arrived at the end of the street where Shisui had said he lived. It was technically the edge of the Uchiha clan area, a bit removed from the clan’s main intersection. Guessing it was still early, Masaki figured Shisui might not be awake yet, so he didn’t call out. Instead, he lingered near the gate, considering whether to knock or come back later.

Just then, he heard a distinct clang and a muffled thud from the courtyard beyond the gate. ‘Is that… the sound of a sword?’ Curious, he knocked on the wooden gate, even though he could have easily just pushed it open.

“Who’s there?” a young voice called out.

“Hey, Shisui! It’s me, Masaki!” Masaki replied, straightening his high-neck Uchiha shirt with a playful grin.

The door opened, and Shisui peeked out, surprise lighting up his face. “Oh, it’s you, Masaki!”

As Shisui greeted him, Masaki noticed something unusual—the boy was holding a small practice sword. ‘Practicing so early?’ Masaki thought, glancing at the wooden sword before Shisui bashfully hid it behind his back.

“Starting training already?” Masaki asked with a smile.

“Well… yeah. I was a bit bored this morning, so my mom asked me to practice some basic sword skills,” Shisui said, glancing back toward the house.

Following Shisui’s gaze, Masaki noticed a figure bustling around inside. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, nodding toward the house.

Shisui shook his head, grinning. “No, not at all! I was just about to take a break for breakfast anyway.”

Just then, a woman in her twenties stepped out of the house, drying her hands on a towel. She looked warmly at Masaki. “Shisui, is this your friend?”