Master Masaru dismissed the assembly with a wave of his hand, his voice echoing through the fortress halls. "Train until your bones break. Rest is for the dead."
When the crowd dispersed, he retreated into his chamber — a cold, candlelit room carved deep into the stone. He sank into meditation, cross-legged on the floor, while the flickering flames cast shifting shadows across his scarred face. Outside, the wind howled like restless spirits.
Meanwhile, the five legends gathered the new recruits for their first evaluation. The air smelled of steel, sweat, and incense — the scent of warriors being reborn.
"Step forward one by one," ordered Sousuke. "We'll see which element your soul responds to."
Each recruit placed their hand upon the glowing orb at the center of the hall. It pulsed with shifting colors, revealing their natural alignment — water, thunder, wind, fire, or earth.
When Yuto's turn came, the orb flared crimson. Flames spiraled around his hand, licking his skin without burning it. Gasps echoed through the crowd.
"Fire…" Sousuke murmured. "A dangerous path."
Before Yuto could speak, a deep voice broke the silence.
"Then his training begins with me."
The recruits turned as Master Yuzi Katzuki approached — a legend draped in tattered robes, his arms covered in burn scars. His gaze was calm but sharp enough to cut stone.
He looked Yuto over like a blacksmith inspecting flawed metal. "So you carry fire in your veins. Then you must learn what it means to burn."
The courtyard training began at dawn. Mist still hung in the air when Yuzi's voice rang out like a hammer.
"Strength first. Fire obeys only the strong."
The first task was brutal — raw physical conditioning. They were made to sprint through jagged terrain, haul weighted logs up cliffs, and strike thick wooden planks until their hands bled.
When it came Yuto's turn to strike, his fist met the plank with a dull crack — and a wave of pain shot through his arm. He bit back a cry, clutching his wrist.
Yuzi didn't even look at him. "Pain is the language of fire. Listen to it."
Gritting his teeth, Yuto tried again. And again. Until the plank splintered and his knuckles dripped crimson.
The others looked on in awe as Yuzi nodded once. "Good. Now break ten more."
By nightfall, Yuto's arms trembled uncontrollably. He collapsed beside the training ground, chest heaving. Sousuke passed him a water flask, smirking. "Welcome to hell."
The next day was worse.
Yuzi stood before them with a line of gleaming katanas. "Today, you will strike stone."
The recruits hesitated. The rock before them was massive, unyielding. Yuzi's tone was merciless. "Either the blade breaks, or you do."
One by one, they tried — and failed. Metal shattered, sparks scattered, wrists split open.
When Yuto's turn came, he raised his sword, exhaled deeply, and swung. The sound rang sharp — but the blade cracked in two. The others flinched.
Yuzi walked up slowly. "You strike like a man fighting the stone. You must strike as if you are the stone."
He demonstrated — a single, precise swing. The blade met the rock's weak point, slicing a clean line across its surface. No wasted motion. No hesitation.
"Again."
Yuto trained for days — through blood, sweat, and sleepless nights — until his body learned to move without thought. On the seventh day, he struck. The stone split in two. The echo carried across the valley.
Yuzi allowed himself a faint smile. "Now you are beginning to understand."
The next phase tested endurance. Yuzi led them to the mountain base, where sacks of stone were stacked high. "Carry them. Across the field. Until your legs give out."
The recruits strained under the weight. Some vomited, others collapsed. Yuto kept walking — stumbling, gasping — until his vision blurred. When he fell, Yuzi's voice cut through the fog of exhaustion.
"Get up, boy. Fire does not kneel."
Yuto rose, screaming through the pain, and finished the run.
That night, they slept like corpses. But at dawn, Yuzi's horn sounded again.
"Two bags this time."
The training continued for five months. Muscles hardened, lungs expanded, and the weak either grew strong — or vanished from the camp altogether. By the end, Yuto's swing could cleave through the boulder that once defeated him.
Then came the breathing trials.
Buckets of water lined the hall. Yuzi's voice was calm, but his eyes were unrelenting. "Fire cannot exist without air. Control your breath — or the flames will devour you."
Each recruit submerged their face. Seconds stretched like hours. Some broke at two minutes, others fainted entirely.
Yuto lasted three. He emerged gasping, trembling — but alive.
"Again," Yuzi said simply.
They repeated it daily. Weeks passed. By the fourteenth day, Yuto could hold his breath past seven minutes — his lungs stronger, his heartbeat steady.
The next test was pure madness.
Yuzi led them to the Fire Pit — a circle of roaring flame surrounded by ancient runes. The heat was unbearable, the air shimmering like molten glass.
"Step into the fire," Yuzi said.
The recruits froze. One man tried — his skin blistered within seconds, forcing him back screaming.
Yuto stared at the inferno, sweat pouring down his face. His instincts screamed at him to stop — but he stepped forward anyway.
The fire licked at his clothes, his hair, his skin. Every nerve burned. His body wanted to run. But then he remembered Yuzi's words: Pain is the language of fire.
He took another step.
And another.
Then darkness.
When he woke, Yuzi was sitting beside him in the ashes, untouched by the flames. "You lasted longer than most. In time, you'll stand in the fire without fear."
Six months later, Yuto and the others could walk through fire as though it were air.
Their final phase was mastery of the blade. Yuzi trained them relentlessly — day and night — until their movements became instinct. Each swing had purpose, each step precision. One mistake meant shattered steel or shattered bone.
Two months later, their swords sang through the air, slicing cleanly, silently.
At last, Yuzi gathered them beneath the setting sun. His voice was low, dangerous. "You've learned to breathe, to burn, to endure. Tomorrow, I will teach you the final lesson — the devil's weakness."
He turned away, the last light of the day glinting off his scars.
"And when that day comes… you'll understand what true fire really is."