The Vanishing

The first rays of morning light slip through the blinds, gently pulling me from a deep sleep. I lie there for a moment, letting the silence of the room wash over me. The teachings from last night linger in my mind—Kage no Jutsu. The old man's words echo in my thoughts, and I can almost feel the lingering weight of his lessons on my body.

I roll out of bed, the chill of the floor under my feet grounding me as I stretch. The night's training was intense, but the promise of what I learned keeps me awake and alert. There's a quiet excitement stirring inside me, a sense of possibility that wasn't there before.

I pull on my clothes and make my way down the hall toward the dojo. The air feels different this morning—charged somehow, as if the world itself is waiting.

I step through the door, expecting the familiar weight of the dojo to settle around me, but instead, I freeze.

The room is gone. The wooden beams, the practice mats, the flickering candlelight—everything is absent, replaced by an empty, expansive void. The walls are gone, and the floor stretches out into an endless nothingness. There's no sign of the old man, no trace of the teachings that had filled this space for weeks. Just silence.

I take a few cautious steps forward, the sound of my footfalls echoing in the emptiness. My breath catches in my throat as I scan the room, looking for something—anything—that resembles the dojo I had just left. But there is nothing. No warm familiarity, no old man's voice guiding me, only a hollow, vacant space.

I swallow hard, my mind racing. The shadows that once clung to the corners are gone, replaced by an unsettling stillness. It's as if the very essence of the place has been erased, leaving behind only this cold, empty void.

I move toward the spot where the practice mats should be, my feet barely making a sound as I walk. My hand brushes the floor, expecting the solid wood beneath, but it feels... different. The texture shifts beneath my fingers, like it's not even real.

"Old man?" I murmur, the word sounding strange in this unfamiliar silence. My voice seems out of place here, swallowed up by the void that stretches on forever.

Nothing. No answer. Not even the faintest hint of movement.

I step back, my mind spinning. This isn't possible. The dojo was here, I was just— trained here. There had to be something, a sign of where it went, something to explain this.

But there is nothing.

The air feels thick, dense with the weight of something unsaid, something missing. I turn, scanning the void once more, trying to find any trace of the space I knew, any hint that this was real. But it all feels wrong. This is no longer the dojo. It's just a hollow, empty space.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. This is just a trick, I tell myself. A test. The old man is still here, somewhere. He's watching, waiting for me to figure it out. But as the seconds tick by, that feeling of wrongness only deepens.

I close my eyes for a moment, shaking my head, and when I open them again, the void remains unchanged. There's no sign of the dojo, no sign of him. Only the empty silence stretching out before me.

And then, the hum of his voice—distant, faint, but unmistakable.

"If by fate we meet again, or One day, you'll cross paths with a member of the Shirogiri clan, remember this—master the first veil I have taught you. Perhaps they will show mercy, and let you live long enough to learn the remaining veils."

The words echo around me, and for a moment, the air feels alive with energy. But just as quickly, the hum fades, leaving only the silence once again.

I stand there, rooted to the spot, trying to make sense of what just happened. The dojo, the old man, the lessons—all of it has disappeared. But one thing remains clear: I am no longer the person who entered this space.

With no other choice, I turn and walk out, the emptiness still pressing in around me. The question isn't where the dojo went. The question is—why did it leave me behind?