Third year of Konoha's founding
Month: June
Age of Kenichi Sato: 7 years and 2 months
I initially believed that Water Breathing required a sword.
In my previous life, I had watched Demon Slayer, where all who used that style were swordsmen wielding Nichirin blades. I thought it could only be mastered when breath and steel aligned.
But I was wrong.
In that world, they fought supernatural creatures that could only be slain with special weapons. Their bodies weren't as strong as those of shinobi. They had no chakra — they relied solely on breath to compensate for that lack.
But here… in this world… I am a ninja.
My body grows stronger every day, and my chakra flows in harmony with my breath. The sword is not the essence — it is merely a tool. The true core has always been the breathing.
—
It was a warm morning. The sun was still shy, veiled behind scattered summer clouds.
In the back training yard of the academy, Kenichi stood alone. A wooden sword in his right hand. His breathing: slow, deep, and steady.
Ever since he received the Water Breathing style as a reward from the system, something inside him had opened up. It wasn't just a technique — it was a transformation.
He began to notice the flow of blood, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the cadence of air... Even the movement of his fingers began to mimic the waves.
He started testing the basic forms he remembered from his old life — the first form, the second, the third... They weren't exact, but he aimed to recreate the feeling, not the motions.
But the greatest challenge remained: the sword.
He wasn't naturally skilled with it. Every time he attempted a precise movement, he lost his balance. His grip was still weak. His wrist refused to match the flow.
And no one spared him from harsh critiques.
"Satō, your sword swing looks like a broken brush stroke!"
Some classmates laughed. He didn't respond.
He simply closed his eyes and started again.
—
He decided to experiment with blending movements — to combine basic taijutsu with Water Breathing patterns and move as if the sword were not in his hand but in his pulse.
During one training attempt, while executing a low circular slash, he suddenly felt a strange harmony between the steps of his feet, the rotation of his shoulders, and the way he exhaled.
His heartbeat quickened — then suddenly slowed.
He felt blood flowing to his limbs in perfect rhythm. The sword was still unsteady… but it moved fluidly, as if a stream carried it.
In that moment, a voice came from behind:
"You don't have talent with a sword… but you carry it as if it's not a burden."
Kenichi turned to see one of the academy instructors — a tall shinobi with a real sword strapped to his back.
The instructor continued: "Sometimes, those not born as swordsmen create styles of their own. Don't stop."
The man's eyes weren't merely observing… they recorded something. Kenichi felt them pierce through him briefly, then he nodded quietly and returned to his stance.
Inside, he began to feel that his path was being drawn — not in a straight line, but in curves resembling water.
—
On another day, Kenichi sat by the edge of the small river near his home, watching how the water moved around the rocks.
He wasn't thinking — he was listening. Every ripple, every swirl, was a message.
"Water does not resist — it adapts. It does not fight — it overcomes."
That night, he adjusted his breathing technique once again.
Instead of breathing loudly like the swordsmen in Demon Slayer, he slowed it down, concealed it, syncing it with his heartbeat and chakra flow.
> "If no one hears you… no one can match you."
While training silently with this refined breathing, he noticed something new:
His reaction time improved. His peripheral vision became sharper. His legs responded quicker.
It was as if Water Breathing… began to nourish his soul.
The next day, during group taijutsu drills, his steps clashed with an older student's.
Instead of stepping back, Kenichi turned his body smoothly and slipped behind him with surprising agility.
The instructor shouted, stunned: "Satō! What was that move? Have you been training in ground rotations?"
Kenichi smiled, "Just a breathing exercise."
Some students laughed, but one of them — silent until then — began watching him intently.
—
That night, while his mother was asleep, Kenichi sat by her window, listening to her steady breaths.
She had one hand on her belly, perhaps dreaming of her unborn daughter.
Kenichi whispered, "I hope you love me as much as I love you — even before you're born."
He smiled and wrote a note in his journal:
> "Water doesn't need a sword… but it can carry one, if it must."
"And I will be the water… if the sword rejects me."
He added a new line:
> "I will forge my own style. If it does not exist, I will create it.
If I find no school… I will build one."
—
The next morning, he stood again in the training yard.
This time… without a sword.
But his movements were sharper, more precise — as if the air itself struck with him.
End of Chapter Nine.