Age: 8 years
Fear spreads faster than truth. It doesn't need confirmation; it only needs silence to grow.
After Daichi's fall, the training yard changed. The children still gathered there, laughed, and fought—but not near me.
When I approached, their laughter stopped. When I smiled, they looked away.
No one spoke of that day directly. Yet every whisper in the compound seemed to carry my name in fragments:
Ren.
Water.
Unnatural.
The rumor had shape but not substance—and I left it that way.
---
Age: 8 years, 1 month
Mio was the only one who tried to act as if nothing had changed. She brought sweets, asked about my training, and smiled with forced brightness.
But I saw it: the slight hesitation before she met my eyes, the split-second her hand trembled before handing me a cup of tea.
Fear didn't need to be spoken. It lived in pauses.
At night, I sat by the pond where I used to practice chakra control. The water reflected the moon—calm and flawless.
I dropped a single pebble. Ripples spread outward, colliding softly.
So easy, I thought.
So predictable.
---
Age: 8 years, 3 months
Father began watching me more closely. His questions were casual—about how training was going, whether I liked my tutors, and if I had any trouble with the other children.
But his eyes were sharper now. Measuring. Calculating.
Perhaps he'd heard the same whispers I had. Possibly he feared what others might see if they looked too closely.
One evening, I entered his study quietly. He hadn't noticed me yet.
Two clan elders stood before his desk, speaking in hushed tones.
"…the boy is strange, Lord Soryu. His chakra feels… cold."
"Cold?"
"Like water without life. It unsettles the other children."
"He's a child," Father said firmly. "And my son."
A pause.
"Even so, perhaps some restraint is wise—before fear grows into something else."
They left soon after. Father turned toward the window, unaware that I was there. His hand trembled slightly as it brushed the edge of the desk.
That was the first time I realized—even he was uncertain of what I was becoming.
---
Age: 8 years, 6 months
I began experimenting with perception.
Instead of hiding my ability completely, I allowed hints—just enough to feed the legend. A droplet was dancing in the air when I thought no one was watching. A puddle trembling under my steps.
Always slight, always "unintentional."
Each time, the whispers grew.
Fear turned to caution. Caution turned to respect. Respect turned to distance.
I was no longer "the quiet boy." I was something else.
---
Age: 8 years, 9 months
One evening, Daichi approached me again. Not with anger this time—but with forced humility.
He bowed slightly and muttered an apology that sounded rehearsed.
"I was… foolish before," he said. "Friends?"
His voice quivered on the last word.
I studied him, noticing the sweat along his neck and the forced smile. Fear pretending to be peace.
I extended my hand. "Of course."
He smiled in relief.
That night, I wrote a new principle in my thoughts:
Rule Six Point One: Fear, properly maintained, is loyalty in disguise.
---
Age: 8 years, 11 months
By the time winter came, I had learned to shape the clan's perception like clay.
When they pitied me, I smiled warmly. When they doubted me, I showed restraint. When they feared me, I gave them reason to believe it was admiration.
Every ripple, every reaction, and every quiet word became part of a larger design.
I wasn't fighting for power anymore—I was learning to govern it.