The salty breeze from the docks carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the rough voices of workers moving crates and barrels. Blizz wiped the sweat from his forehead, but despite the physical strain, he felt… fine. Stronger, even. It had taken him a while to notice, but his body was different now. The aching exhaustion that usually followed a long day of lifting cargo barely affected him.
Chakra. It wasn't just some mystical energy—his entire body had adapted to it. His endurance was better, his muscles felt denser, and though he hadn't tested it fully, he suspected his reflexes had improved too. It wasn't a massive change overnight, but it was enough for him to recognize it.
Blizz smirked to himself as he watched another worker grunt and strain under the weight of a crate. Meanwhile, he had just carried two the same size without much effort. His grip tightened on the rough wood, and an idea crossed his mind.
If I keep training, just how far can I push this power?
But that was for later. Right now, he had something more important to focus on.
As the sun began to set, he finished his shift and made his way back to his small rented room. The wooden floor creaked under his steps as he shut the door, locking out the noise of Loguetown's busy streets. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of leaves he had gathered earlier.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he placed one on his forehead and took a deep breath.
Leaf Concentration Training.
The goal was simple: use chakra to hold a leaf in place on his skin. It sounded easy, but it was a delicate exercise in control. Too little chakra, and the leaf would fall. Too much, and it would be blown off. It was the first real step to mastering chakra control.
Blizz closed his eyes, feeling for the energy inside him. His breath steadied, and he directed a small amount to his forehead. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a faint warmth spread beneath his skin, and the leaf stuck.
A grin spread across his face. Not bad.
But the moment his focus wavered, the leaf fluttered to the floor. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
This is going to take a while.
Hours passed as he repeated the process. Stick the leaf. Hold it. Maintain balance. He switched locations—the palm of his hand, his shoulder, his arm—gradually learning to control his chakra more precisely. Eventually, he managed to hold two leaves at once. Then three.
By the time the moon was high in the sky, he was exhausted, but satisfied. He wasn't perfect, but he was improving.
Blizz leaned back against the wall, breathing deeply. His mind, however, was still racing.
, staring at his hands. The chakra within him was faint—almost drained. His body felt sluggish, and his limbs were heavy, the telltale signs of complete chakra exhaustion. He hadn't expected it to deplete so fast. After hours of training, of practicing the Leaf Concentration exercise and attempting basic jutsu, he was completely spent.
So, this is my limit, he thought, rubbing his temple. It was frustrating, but it made sense. He had just awakened this power; of course, his reserves were small. Even Naruto, at the start of his journey, had struggled with chakra control.
Blizz exhaled deeply, lying back on the wooden floor. Despite the exhaustion, he felt… satisfied. Every time he pushed his chakra to its limits, he could feel something shifting inside him. His reserves weren't just emptying—they were expanding, little by little. Each time he hit his limit and recovered, it felt like his capacity increased ever so slightly.
It made sense. The body adapted to strain. Muscles grew stronger when torn and rebuilt. Why should chakra be any different?
As he rested, his mind drifted to another aspect of his newfound power—the knowledge that had come with it. Chakra control wasn't the only thing implanted in his mind. Among the techniques flooding his thoughts, something stood out: Fūinjutsu.
Sealing techniques.
The knowledge was rudimentary, but it was there. Storage seals, explosive tags, chakra-infused paper… He could recall the theories, the principles behind them. But knowing was different from doing. He needed materials, practice, and, most importantly, precision.
Writing the kanji for a seal required absolute accuracy. One mistake, even a slight smudge, and the entire seal would fail. Worse, an incorrect explosive seal might misfire or, in the worst-case scenario, detonate in his hands. He needed to master the strokes, to make them second nature.
But first, he needed supplies.
His gaze shifted to the small pouch of money he had saved from his dock work. It wasn't much, but it should be enough for some ink and paper. Tomorrow, he would start training his writing. Until then, he needed rest. His chakra needed time to recover.
With that thought, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into sleep, his mind swirling with possibilities.
⸻
The next morning, Blizz made his way through Loguetown's bustling streets. The city was always alive with movement—pirates, merchants, and Marines passing each other in a chaotic blend of business and danger. But today, he wasn't interested in any of that. His focus was on a small supply shop tucked away between larger buildings.
He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the shelves. He didn't need much—just ink, brushes, and the best quality paper he could afford. The woman at the counter raised an eyebrow as he made his purchase, but she said nothing. Just another customer.
With supplies in hand, Blizz returned to his room and got to work. He spread out the paper, dipped the brush into the ink, and began writing the first kanji.
The result? A mess.
The strokes were uneven, the ink bled too much, and his hand wobbled at the final curve. He scowled. He knew what to write, but his hands weren't used to the precise movements. It was going to take time—days, maybe even weeks—to get it perfect. But he wasn't discouraged. He had patience.
And if I can master it, I'll have an ability no one else has.
His mind raced with possibilities. He could store supplies, create makeshift storage scrolls, even experiment with explosive tags. This was just the first step.
But for now, he had training to finish.
As he got bored from just writing all day, another thought crept into his mind: hand seals.
In battle, speed mattered. No one would wait for him to slowly form each sign. He needed efficiency. The knowledge in his head told him some jutsu required over thirty seals, while skilled shinobi could reduce or even skip hand signs entirely.
Itachi Uchiha, for example, could form seals with just one hand.
That level of skill was insane, but the idea of it fascinated Blizz. If he could even come close to that level of speed, it would be a game-changer. It was something to work toward.
His fingers moved through a basic set of seals—Rat, Tiger, Ox. Slow at first, then faster. His hands fumbled often, but the more he repeated the motions, the more natural they became.
By the time night fell, his fingers ached from the strain of writing and practicing seals. His chakra reserves were low again, but he had made progress. His kanji was improving, and his hand seals were becoming smoother. It was slow, but it was progress.
Blizz leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He had been avoiding the question, but it lingered in the back of his mind.
What now?
He couldn't stay in Loguetown forever, working as a dockhand. He had power now—power that could take him anywhere. The Marines? A pirate hunter? Maybe even a pirate himself?
He didn't know yet.
But what he did know was that he had a long way to go before he could make that choice.
For now, he would train.
And one day, when he was ready, he'd decide his own path.
Blizz smirked, grabbing another sheet of paper.
He still had work to do.