A soft, ethereal voice echoed through the void, so faint and dreamlike it resembled an illusion. It was the kind of voice one might hear in a dream—mystical, distant, like a whisper carried on mist.
But Hoshino Kaede didn't hear it.
He was far too immersed in the task at hand—refining Chakra.
Another thirty minutes passed. Sweat clung to his brows, and his breathing grew shallow. His limbs ached, and his core throbbed with fatigue. It felt like he'd run around Konoha's entire perimeter multiple times without rest.
Eyes fluttering open, he groaned and winced as a wave of soreness coursed through his small frame.
"Awake?"
The familiar voice of Hoshino Yota, his father, brought him back to the present. He knelt beside Kaede, pressing into his shoulders and massaging his muscles with practiced, efficient hands.
"The first chakra refinement takes a lot out of you. It's not just about energy—it's about learning how to connect with your own life force," Yota explained calmly. "Too much too soon and you could cause internal injuries."
Kaede nodded, sweat still dripping down his face.
"I didn't let you try earlier because your body wasn't ready. Most children start refining chakra after the age of five."
Kaede blinked. He had assumed chakra refinement was straightforward—painful, maybe, but not dangerous. Now, it seemed even this first step carried risks.
Yota smiled faintly, as if reading his son's mind. "You'll get used to it. Don't worry, I'm not expecting miracles. If you can succeed at refining chakra within two weeks, that's more than enough for me."
Kaede tilted his head. "Two weeks? Oh, Dad… I might be shattering your expectations."
Yota raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Kaede hesitated, then gave a sheepish shrug. "I already refined it."
There was a moment of silence.
"…What?"
"I already refined chakra," Kaede repeated.
Yota blinked. "Wait—what?!"
His calm demeanor shattered as he grabbed Kaede by the shoulders. "Are you serious?! That was your first session!"
Kaede nodded and, to prove it, closed his eyes, took a breath, and summoned the faint stream of chakra he'd gathered earlier.
A soft, pale glow lit up his hands. It was brief—only a second—but undeniable.
Chakra.
Yota froze. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His eyes looked as if they had just seen a ghost.
It wasn't just that Kaede had refined chakra. It was that he had done it on his first try, within a single hour.
Even among gifted clan heirs, that kind of speed was extremely rare.
Kaede looked up, his smile cheeky. "Dad? You okay?"
Yota finally exhaled. "You… you little freak!"
Kaede's smile dropped. "Gee, thanks."
Realizing his mistake, Yota coughed and waved his hand awkwardly. "Ahem. I meant that in the best way possible."
He patted Kaede's head, still half in shock. "Alright. Since you've already succeeded, there's no point holding back."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a few old scrolls. "Here. These are some basic Ninjutsu techniques. Practice them on your own. Take your time with it."
Kaede's eyes sparkled. "Seriously?!"
Yota nodded. "Consider it an early reward."
"Thank you, Dad!"
As Kaede reached for the scrolls, he paused. A strange thought had been nagging at him since his chakra refinement.
"Um… Dad?" he said, glancing up.
"What's up?"
"Well… when I was refining chakra, I felt something weird. In my eyes."
Yota's smile faltered.
The air grew heavier.
"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.
Kaede frowned. "It's hard to explain. Like… something awakened. Something deep inside my vision."
Yota didn't speak for several seconds. Then he exhaled through his nose, eyes clouded with memory.
"I see. It seems… you've awakened a Kekkei Genkai."
Kaede blinked. "A Bloodline Limit?! We… we have one in our family?"
Yota nodded slowly, reluctantly. "Your grandfather awakened one, decades ago."
Kaede was stunned. He had never heard his father mention a Kekkei Genkai. He didn't even know anything about his grandfather. That silence now made sense.
"What was it?" he asked.
Yota's voice dropped to a murmur. "No one knows exactly. It involved his eyes, just like yours. But it didn't last long."
"What happened?"
Yota looked away. "He developed something called Bloodline Disease—a rare, deadly reaction to unstable Kekkei Genkai awakenings. His body couldn't handle it. He died a few years after it awakened."
Kaede sat silently. The pieces were falling into place. His father's reluctance. The silence around his grandfather. The nervous expression when Kaede mentioned his eyes.
"If you start feeling anything strange," Yota said, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "anything—pain, dizziness, even weird dreams—you tell me immediately."
Kaede gave a weak smile, trying to ease his father's fear. "Don't worry, Dad. I feel fine."
Yota stared at him for a moment, then ruffled his hair.
"You're too mature for a five-year-old. But that's what makes you strong."
He stood. "Stay here and practice. I'll go dig up your grandfather's old notes. Maybe they'll help us figure out what this ability really is."
With that, Yota disappeared into the house, leaving Kaede alone in the courtyard.
Kaede didn't open the Ninjutsu scrolls right away. Instead, he wandered over to a quiet corner near the haystack and sat cross-legged once more.
His thoughts turned inward.
That strange space inside his mind… the one that stirred during refinement… was calling him again.
And in the next blink, everything around him shifted.
Darkness. Silence. Weightlessness.
Then, it appeared.
The Clock.
It stood tall before him, covered in rust and ancient grime. Yet despite the corrosion, it radiated authority and timelessness. It was both haunting and beautiful—an artifact untouched by the ages, yet eternally watching.
Kaede looked around. There was nothing but darkness, except for this one glowing clock. No sky. No floor. No air. Just… time.
He stepped closer.
The clock's dial was divided into twelve segments. But something was wrong—eleven of them were shrouded in thick, black fog. Only the slice between twelve and one o'clock was illuminated, its golden lines glowing faintly beneath layers of dust.
Compelled by instinct, Kaede reached forward and touched the dial.
At that moment, the entire clock face ignited in a brilliant light.
The burst of energy forced Kaede to cover his eyes, the brilliance almost painful.
From the illuminated segment, a beam of radiant blue light shot out, striking him directly in the eyes.
He gasped. The world twisted. Time fractured.
And then… nothing.
---
Kaede collapsed back into the grass, unconscious, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Inside his eyelids, the dial pulsed gently—one part of the clock now awakened.
The countdown had begun.
---