Guidance

The pain was indescribable. Torture might've been kinder. My muscles felt like they'd been shredded, rearranged, and set on fire for good measure. For what felt like hours, I lay there, unable to move. But then, gradually, the agony subsided, leaving behind something… different.

I sat up, my movements sluggish but deliberate. My arms felt heavier, but not in a bad way. There was a firmness to them, a strength that hadn't been there before. Curious, I flexed my biceps—only to freeze. Were those actual muscles?

System Notification:

I blinked at the glowing text in front of me. "So… even penalties come with rewards?" A grin tugged at my lips. The system might be sadistic, but at least it wasn't entirely useless. I rolled my shoulders, testing my newfound strength. The soreness lingered, but it felt… productive? Like my body had been broken down only to be rebuilt stronger.

Pain wasn't new to me. Pain I could handle. But I'd have to make sure to stay on top of these daily objectives. No sense in dying because I forgot to do sit-ups.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stood, feeling the stiffness in my muscles. Despite the ache, they responded better than before, moving with a fluidity that was already leagues ahead of where I'd started. The Hanzo estate greeted me as I glanced out the window—its sprawling courtyards bathed in the soft morning light. Cherry blossom petals danced in the breeze, painting the air with their delicate pink hues. It was almost too serene for a family of killers.

"Balance." I muttered to myself. "Beauty in death and all that."

Grabbing a cloth to wipe the sweat still clinging to my face, I readied myself for the day ahead. Whatever my father had planned, I wouldn't back down. This wasn't just about playing the obedient son. This was survival.

I stepped onto the training grounds, the faint crunch of gravel under my feet the only sound in the crisp morning air. My father was already there, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the sparring mats. The man looked like he'd been carved out of stone, every movement deliberate, every gaze piercing.

"Good." he said, his tone laced with approval. "You're early. A true shinobi arrives before the appointed time."

I offered a polite bow, keeping my expression respectful. "I'm ready to begin."

He gave me a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We'll see."

And with that, the training began.

It started simple enough. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats—basic exercises designed to push my body to its limits. At least, they would've been simple if I wasn't stuck in the body of an eleven-year-old. My muscles burned as I forced my way through set after set, sweat dripping into my eyes. My father barked commands like a drill sergeant, his voice a relentless metronome keeping me moving.

"Come on, Takeda! You want to master the shinobi arts, don't you?"

I grunted in response, channeling every ounce of stubbornness I had to keep going. Weakness wasn't an option. Not here.

By the time we moved on to agility drills, my body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. My father had set up an obstacle course that would've been a breeze in my old life. But this body? It wasn't built for ninja warrior antics. I stumbled over ropes, misjudged jumps, and nearly face-planted off a narrow beam.

"Focus, Takeda!" my father scolded, his tone sharp but not unkind. "A shinobi's greatest strength is his ability to move unseen. Every step must be deliberate."

Deliberate. Right. I bit back a curse as I narrowly avoided tripping over yet another obstacle. Adapt. Survive. Those were the rules I lived by. This body might've been weak, but I wasn't.

By midday, I was drenched in sweat and running on fumes. But my father wasn't done. Handing me a wooden sword, he motioned for me to take a stance.

"Now we train in kenjutsu. A shinobi must master all forms of combat, even those outside their specialty."

We squared off, and the moment he moved, I knew I was in trouble. His strikes were lightning-fast, each one a calculated attempt to exploit my every weakness. Blocking was a struggle; countering was impossible. It was like trying to fend off a hurricane with a twig.

"Don't just react. Predict!" he barked, sweeping my legs out from under me.

I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring but not unfamiliar. I got back up without hesitation, my grip tightening on the wooden sword. I wasn't going to let frustration get the better of me. Not in front of him.

We sparred for what felt like hours, his strikes unrelenting. But slowly, I began to see patterns in his movements. A subtle shift in his stance before a powerful swing. A flicker of his eyes telegraphing his next move. My mind adapted, my body following suit.

I parried a downward strike, dodged a follow-up slash, and managed to land a glancing blow against his side. My movements were still clumsy, but there was a rhythm now—a flow that felt… familiar.

"Good." my father said, his tone approving. "You're improving. But don't get cocky."

And just like that, he disarmed me in a single, fluid motion, his wooden blade resting against my throat.

I gritted my teeth but forced myself to nod. "I wasn't, Father."

He chuckled, stepping back. "That's enough for today."

System Notification:

<+100 XP.> 

I couldn't help but smile. The system rewarded effort, even if it was grueling. If this was how it worked, I'd push myself to the limit every day. Strength wasn't given; it was earned.

"Tomorrow, we'll continue with Ki and stealth techniques." my father said, his voice tinged with pride. "For now, rest. You've earned it."

I nodded, bowing low. "Thank you, Father."

As I trudged back to my room, exhaustion weighing on my limbs, a sense of satisfaction settled over me. My progress was slow, but it was there. This body might've been young and weak, but it wouldn't stay that way.

Lying down, I opened my inventory and stared at the Absolute Restoration elixir floating in its holographic window. It was comforting to know I had it, but I wouldn't waste it yet.

This was my life now. My second chance. And this time, I'd do things right.