The morning of the Spirit Test dawned with a pale light, filtered through a blanket of mist that clung to the mountains.
Raien stood in front of the training yard behind Master Genzo's house, breathing in the chill air. The charm his father had left him hung around his neck, pulsing softly against his chest. He could feel the fox inside—restless, stirring, watching.
"You're nervous."
The voice slithered into his thoughts again.
"You should be. They'll never accept you. Let me out... just once."
Raien clenched his jaw. "No."
He stepped into his fighting stance, trying to center himself. Genzo's wooden training dummies stood like silent sentinels around him. The old man had always told him to master his body before mastering spirit arts.
So Raien moved.
Step. Strike. Block. Turn.
His body was quick—too quick. Sometimes when he fought, he could feel the fox's strength leaking through, making his punches sharper, his leaps higher. It was intoxicating—and terrifying.
"Your form is cleaner," Genzo said, emerging from the porch with a steaming bowl of rice in hand. "Still too rigid in the shoulders, though."
Raien stopped, panting slightly. "I didn't sleep much."
"You never do before these things."
Raien looked away. "They're going to be watching me today. Waiting for me to slip."
"Then don't slip," Genzo said plainly, setting the bowl down. "Show them what a Kurozawa can do."
Raien hesitated. "Do you think they'll ever stop fearing me?"
Genzo paused. "Fear is a stubborn thing. But so is respect. Earn it. Again and again, if you have to."
Raien nodded slowly, taking the bowl and eating in silence. The rice was plain, but warm. Comforting.
Later that morning, Raien walked toward the village square where the Spirit Test was held every year. It was a tradition in Kaigen—young warriors would demonstrate their connection to the spiritual realm through techniques, weapon arts, or channeling elemental spirits.
The square buzzed with excitement. Villagers lined the stone edges, whispering and pointing. Raien kept his hood up as he joined the other initiates.
He spotted Mei, standing near the back, wind-chimes clipped to her belt. Her silver-blond hair shimmered in the light. She gave him a small nod, not quite a smile. He returned it.
Next to her stood Taro Hoshinagi—tall, broad, and already wearing a smirk.
"Well, well," Taro said, stepping in front of Raien. "The beast-boy shows up after all."
Raien kept his eyes forward. "Move."
"What's the matter? Fox got your tongue?" Taro chuckled, loud enough for a few villagers to hear.
Raien's fists tightened. His breath shortened.
"Let me show him what fear really is…"
"No," Raien whispered.
"What?" Taro leaned closer.
"I said move."
A small gust of heat shimmered around Raien's shoulders.
Taro's smirk faltered. "Tch. Whatever. Just don't explode on stage."
As Taro walked off, Raien exhaled slowly. The charm at his chest pulsed again—like it was holding something back.
Master Genzo stood at the far end of the square, staff in hand, eyes scanning the crowd. When they landed on Raien, they softened—just for a moment.
"Let the tests begin," he declared.
Raien stepped forward, heart pounding.
This was his chance.
To be more than the beast.
To be seen.