Age 5: The Awakening
By his fifth birthday, Seiya had established himself as a prodigy even among the Legends' exacting standards.
His daily routine had expanded to include five hours of physical training, two hours of Lenergy meditation and practice, four hours of academic study, and one hour of what Master Hiro simply called "living practice"—the art of maintaining Lenergy flow during ordinary activities.
The training grounds had become as familiar to him as his own reflection. Each morning before dawn, he arrived to find Master Hiro already waiting, sometimes seated in meditation, other times arranging the day's equipment.
They began each session with the Dawn Salutation—a series of forty-nine precise movements that stretched every muscle group while establishing the day's Lenergy flow.
On this particular morning, as summer heat already shimmered across the stone training ground despite the early hour, Master Hiro had prepared something different.
"Today," the old warrior announced, "we begin weapon fundamentals."
Seiya's golden eyes brightened with interest. He had been watching the older students train with various implements for months, studying their movements with the same intensity he applied to ancient texts in the library.
Master Hiro gestured to a weapons rack that had been placed at the edge of the training area.
Unlike the metal and crystalline weapons used by adult Legends, these were crafted from polished white wood—training implements designed for beginners.
"Approach the rack," Hiro instructed.
"Close your eyes. Extend your hand. Let your Lenergy guide your choice."
Seiya did as instructed, stepping forward with measured strides that belied his small stature. At five, he was still tiny compared to the rack of training weapons, yet he moved with the deliberate grace of someone much older.
Closing his golden eyes, he extended his right hand and allowed it to hover over the various implements, moving slowly from left to right.
As his hand passed over each weapon, he focused on the subtle sensations in his palm—the almost imperceptible pull of Lenergy responding to different shapes and forms.
Most elicited no reaction, but when his hand drifted over a simple staff about two-thirds his height, he felt it—a warmth that spread from his palm up his arm, like greeting an old friend.
His fingers closed around the staff without hesitation.
"The bojutsu path," Master Hiro noted with approval. "A versatile choice that rewards technical precision and full-body coordination."
What neither of them could have known was that in his previous life, Shin had often daydreamed about learning martial arts, particularly bo staff techniques he had seen in movies and anime.
The muscle memory didn't transfer through reincarnation, of course, but the affinity and interest had somehow survived the journey between worlds.
The staff felt right in Seiya's hands—balanced and responsive as he experimentally shifted it from one palm to the other.
"We begin with stances," Master Hiro said, retrieving his own staff from where it leaned against a nearby column. "Watch carefully."
What followed was a demonstration of precision that left Seiya awestruck. Master Hiro, despite his apparent age, moved through twelve fundamental bojutsu stances with such fluid grace that the staff seemed to become an extension of his body. Each position flowed into the next like water over stones, the wooden staff humming softly as it cut through the air.
When he finished, returning to the starting position with the staff perfectly vertical before him, Master Hiro nodded to Seiya. "Now you. First stance only."
Seiya adjusted his grip on the staff, planted his feet in what he believed was the correct position, and attempted to mimic the straight-backed, knees-bent stance he had just witnessed.
"Lower your center," Master Hiro instructed, using his own staff to gently tap Seiya's shoulders downward. "Ground through your feet. The staff is not held by your hands alone—it is supported by your entire body, from soles to crown."
For hours, they worked on nothing but this first stance, making minute adjustments to finger positions, the angle of elbows, the distribution of weight between feet. By midday, sweat poured down Seiya's face, and his arms trembled from maintaining the same position for so long.
"Enough," Master Hiro finally announced. "Tomorrow, we continue."
But Seiya didn't lower his staff. "Please, Master Hiro. I can continue."
The old warrior studied him for a long moment, noting the trembling in the boy's arms but also the unwavering determination in those golden eyes.
"Very well. Show me the stance once more."
Seiya took a deep breath, centering himself. The part of him that was Shin recalled reading about muscle memory—how repetition etched movements into the nervous system until they became instinct. The part that was native Seiya felt the Lenergy responding to his focus, flowing more readily through his arms as he assumed the stance again.
This time, something clicked. His body aligned itself as if guided by an invisible hand, weight perfectly distributed, muscles engaged but not tense. The staff, which had felt awkward and heavy all morning, suddenly seemed to lighten in his grasp.
"There," Master Hiro said softly. "Do you feel it?"
Seiya nodded, not daring to speak lest he break the delicate balance he had found.
"That is Lenergy supporting structure," the teacher explained. "Your body and the weapon becoming one circuit for energy to flow through. Remember this feeling. Seek it in every movement, every stance."
When Seiya finally lowered the staff, his arms should have been screaming with fatigue. Instead, he felt energized, as if he had tapped into a reserve of strength previously unknown to him.
"Thank you, Master Hiro," he said with a formal bow.
The old warrior returned the gesture with surprising depth for a teacher addressing a student. "You honor the teaching by receiving it so completely, young master."
That night, as Seiya performed his evening meditation, he found the Lenergy flowing more freely than ever before, as if the intense physical focus of the day's training had cleared blockages in his energy pathways. When he extended his palm this time, not just a tiny sphere but a steady flame of golden light materialized, casting warm shadows across his bedroom walls.
Within his mindscape, the consciousness that had once been Shiratori Shin watched in wonder. This is really happening, the voice whispered across the shared consciousness. I'm really learning magic.
Seiya smiled at the thought. Not illusion or fiction, but real power flowing through a healthy, capable body—everything Shin had dreamed of in those long hospital days of his previous life.
"We're just beginning," he whispered aloud to the empty room, watching the golden flame dance above his palm. "Just wait until we master this."