Morning sunlight spilled through the sliding windows, illuminating the small room with a soft, pale glow. Kenji Watanabe sat up slowly, rubbing his tired eyes. The usual weight in his chest pressed down on him—a weight born of years of expectation he could never meet.
His room was simple: a thin futon, a low wooden desk with scattered textbooks, and a single, cracked mirror. Nothing here whispered of greatness, nothing promised power. Yet he rose anyway.
He splashed cold water on his face, letting it wake his senses. Today was another day at Hoshino Public School, the "normal" school that everyone called mundane—but to Kenji, it was a battlefield. Every day was a test. Not of strength, not of skill, but of endurance. Of humiliation. Of survival.The Walk to School
Kenji stepped out, his white school uniform slightly wrinkled from sleep, his sandals slapping quietly against the pavement. The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of pine and smoke from nearby kitchens. Birds called overhead, oblivious to human struggles.
Passing by the local park, he noticed a group of students from the higher grades practicing martial forms. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, filled with a rhythm that spoke of countless hours of training. A few of them, older and taller, had already awakened their Red-rank War Spirits, their swords and blades shimmering faintly in the morning light.
Kenji felt a familiar pang of envy and despair. He had trained. He had pushed himself to the limits. And yet… nothing. His Spirit Gate remained silent. His War Spirit dormant.
The path to school was always the hardest part. Every corner, every step, carried whispers and judgment. Students from his class were already gathered near the entrance, and as he approached, the teasing began before he even reached the gates.
"Late again, Watanabe?" sneered a tall boy named Hiroshi Tanaka, one of the upperclassmen known for his Red-rank War Spirit. "What's the matter? Can't even wake up on time? Typical Null."
Kenji swallowed his reply, lowering his head. He had learned long ago that arguing was useless. Words did not change perception. Effort did not change status. Silence was safer.
A group of younger students snickered, pointing at him. "Look! The Watanabe kid's walking like he just got kicked in the stomach. Maybe that's because he's empty inside!"
Kenji's hands clenched, the nails digging into his palms. He kept walking, ignoring the laughter.
Inside the school, the corridors were narrow, the walls lined with peeling paint and faded posters promoting discipline and diligence. Students moved in groups, chatting, laughing, showing off. Kenji slipped past them, unnoticed—or, more accurately, deliberately ignored.Classroom Torment
By the time Kenji reached his classroom, the lesson had already begun. Mr. Fujimoto, the homeroom teacher, droned on about the morning's physical exercises while keeping one eye on the students.
Kenji quietly slid into his seat at the back, the familiar murmurs of ridicule rising from his classmates.
"Still nothing?" whispered Kazuto, a classmate with ambitions of Red-rank awakening. He leaned toward his friends, his voice low but mocking. "He's sixteen now. Surely, his Spirit Gate should've responded by now. What a waste."
Kenji's eyes flickered briefly, but he said nothing. Words were weapons he could not wield.
The day's first exercise was basic martial training—stances, strikes, kicks, and controlled breathing. Kenji performed every movement as instructed, muscles burning, sweat soaking the back of his uniform. He mimicked the motions of others who had already awakened Red-rank War Spirits, trying to channel a fragment of their aura, their power.
And yet… nothing.
When it came time for partner drills, his classmates paired off easily. Kenji, as usual, was left for last. Shun Yamada, a brash boy whose Blade War Spirit had already awakened, stepped forward, smirking.
"You'll be my partner," Shun said, his voice dripping with condescension. "But don't hurt yourself trying. We all know your Spirit Gate's useless."
Kenji nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Inside, a storm raged, but he forced it down. Showing emotion only fed the mockery.
The exercise began. Shun struck first, his movements fast and precise. Kenji dodged and parried, doing his best to match. Sweat poured down his face, his arms trembled, yet he held firm. For a brief moment, a few classmates nodded in surprise. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely useless.
Then Shun smirked, and the nightmare returned.
"Are you even trying?!" he shouted, landing a strike that knocked Kenji off balance. The sound echoed through the classroom as Kenji hit the floor with a dull thud.
Laughter erupted. Some students cheered. Others shook their heads. Kenji rose slowly, every muscle screaming in pain, and bowed politely.
"Good hit," he muttered, his voice steady.
Shun's smirk widened. "You'll need more than politeness to survive in this world."The First Anomaly
After class, Kenji retreated to the empty courtyard, seeking solitude. He sat on a worn stone bench, closing his eyes and attempting meditation. His mind reached for his Spirit Gate, as always. His body tensed, fingers curling against his knees.
Nothing.
Then, a faint sensation.
Not a War Spirit awakening. Not even close. But a subtle stir, like a ripple in water. A spark of energy flickered beneath his skin. It was warm, yet fierce. It pulsed with a rhythm that was not his own.
Kenji's eyes snapped open. He glanced around. The courtyard was empty, save for the occasional teacher patrolling the grounds. Nothing appeared unusual.
The sensation faded as quickly as it came.
"What… was that?" he whispered, voice trembling.
He pressed his hands to his chest, trying to trace the feeling. It was faint, almost like a heartbeat—but not his. Stronger, deeper, ancient.
For a moment, Kenji felt… hope.
Then reality sank back in. He had not awakened. He had not broken through. He remained a Null in the eyes of the world.
Still, that small anomaly lingered in his consciousness, a reminder that perhaps… his failure was not final.Lunchtime Humiliation
Lunch in the cafeteria was always another trial. The smell of rice, soup, and fried vegetables mixed with the laughter and chatter of students. Kenji carried his tray to an empty corner, trying to avoid attention.
But attention always found him.
"Hey, Null!" called a boy from the next table, a thickset student named Ryo Taniguchi, whose Tiger War Spirit had awakened months ago. "What's for lunch today? Sadness and shame?"
Some nearby students laughed. Others whispered cruelly.
Kenji remained silent, unbothered externally, though his stomach churned with anger.
"You know," Ryo continued, leaning across the table, "I heard the upperclassmen in Aoyama District opened their Spirit Gates today. Green-rank and even Cyan-rank awakenings. And here you are, still nothing. How pathetic."
Kenji's grip tightened on the edge of his tray. He wanted to shout, to strike, to prove them wrong. But even if he could, nothing would change. They would never see him differently.
He ate in silence, chewing slowly, deliberately savoring each bite as if to prove his existence mattered—even if no one else acknowledged it.The Afternoon Class
Martial theory came next. The teacher, Ms. Haruka, wrote diagrams of the human body on the board, explaining points where energy could be circulated to awaken a War Spirit. Students scribbled notes, some adding personal commentary.
Kenji copied diligently.
When asked to demonstrate, a boy named Takeshi Mori, whose Phoenix War Spirit had recently awakened, stepped forward with radiant confidence. He performed the prescribed movements flawlessly. A faint red-gold aura shimmered around him, and even Ms. Haruka's eyes widened.
Kenji tried. He followed the same steps. He executed the same movements. He breathed as instructed.
Nothing.
The silence around him was deafening.
"Next!" Ms. Haruka called.The Evening Return
After school, Kenji returned home, exhausted but unbroken. His grandparents greeted him warmly.
"How was school today?" his grandmother asked.
"Same as always," Kenji replied, voice calm. He removed his shoes and sat at the table.
"Eat first," his grandfather said, placing a bowl of rice in front of him. "Then practice if you have energy."
Kenji nodded, pushing himself to eat, his mind already turning over the day's failures and the faint anomaly he had felt.
That spark—the pulse beneath his skin—lingered in his thoughts.
Could it be… a hidden War Spirit? A Dragon?
He dared not hope. Not yet.Nightfall Meditation
That night, Kenji lay on his futon. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the room in a silver haze. He closed his eyes and focused on the faint sensation that had appeared in the courtyard.
It was faint, but it was there. Warm. Fierce. Alive.
His fingers brushed against his chest instinctively, as if trying to touch the heartbeat of something immense.
And then, a soft, fiery warmth spread from his core, crawling along his limbs like molten gold and crimson.
Kenji gasped, opening his eyes. His futon glowed faintly in the dim light. Shadows danced across the walls.
"This… is real," he whispered.The Seed of Power
The world did not yet recognize Kenji Watanabe. The world still scorned him as a Null.
But the first seed of power had already stirred within him.
A Dragon War Spirit slumbered, ancient and immense, waiting for the day Kenji's perseverance would awaken it.
The path ahead would be harsh. Cruel. Brutal.
But for the first time, Kenji believed that perhaps… he was not destined to fail.
And one day, the world would see it too.