Three years of subterranean solitude had honed Kaito into something entirely new. The dusty air of the crater above, once a torturous adversary, now felt like an extension of his own breath. He ascended from the sinkhole not by arduous climb, but by the sheer, effortless manipulation of the wind. A cushion of concentrated Ryu lifted him, carrying him smoothly upwards until he hovered just above the jagged rim of the colossal depression. The sun, a searing orange orb in the distance, felt invigorating, not oppressive.
His first objective was clear: the village of Searing Sand. Not for vengeance, not for glory, but for answers. For his parents.
He didn't walk; he flew. The Whispering Gale Ascension allowed him to ride the desert winds, a phantom blur across the endless dunes. From his aerial vantage point, the familiar landscape stretched out beneath him, appearing both vast and intimately detailed. He sensed the subtle shifts in air currents, the distant thermal plumes rising from the baked earth, all serving as his silent guides.
As the familiar sandstone structures of Searing Sand appeared on the horizon, Kaito didn't land directly within its walls. He circled, high above, a nearly invisible speck against the vast sky. With his Soul Formation stage cultivation, his senses were acute, extending for miles. He didn't just see the village; he felt its every nuance, every ripple of Ryu within its inhabitants.
His heart sank. He could sense them all: the familiar hum of Elder Chiyo's aged but strong Ryu, the fiery spark of Kenji's father, Hiroki, the steady presence of Hana. But as he probed deeper, he understood. No one, not a single individual in the entire village, had broken past the Core Formation stage. Even the Kage, whose Ryu radiated immense power, was clearly at the peak of Core Formation, pushing against a barrier that Kaito had effortlessly transcended years ago. The village, in its isolated struggle, had remained stagnant, its cultivation methods seemingly limited by their own understanding. And among all those familiar Ryu signatures, two were profoundly absent: his mother's calming water flow, his father's steady earth presence. They hadn't returned.
A cold certainty settled in Kaito's chest, mingled with a new, strange sense of detachment. He was no longer one of them, not in the way that truly mattered.
He descended slowly, landing quietly on the outskirts of the village near the secondary training grounds, the same dusty space where he had been deemed "Ryu-deficient" years ago. It was late afternoon, and a handful of younger trainees were attempting to form small gusts of wind, their efforts clumsy and sputtering.
Almost immediately, their instructor, a mid-level Earth Elementalist Kaito vaguely remembered, spotted him. "Hey! Who are you? You're not from around here."
Kaito didn't respond, simply walking forward. His cloak, a tattered remnant of his old life, fluttered around him. His face, weathered by three years of desert sun and intense cultivation, was gaunt but resolute.
Word quickly spread. Within moments, Elder Chiyo and several other village elders were approaching, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion. They recognized his face, now older, harder, but still undeniably Kaito.
"Kaito?" Elder Chiyo's voice was a mix of disbelief and sternness. "Where have you been, child? We thought you consumed by the desert. And what is this disrespectful intrusion?"
Another elder, a gruff Fire Elementalist, stepped forward. "Boy, you left us! You defied the Kage's directive. You are lucky we don't consider you a rogue already."
Kaito stopped a few paces from them, his gaze sweeping over their familiar faces, seeing them now through the lens of his newfound power. Their Ryu felt like flickering candles compared to the roaring furnace within him.
"I left because I was deemed a burden," Kaito stated, his voice deeper, resonating with an undercurrent of power he no longer tried to suppress. "I returned to see if my parents came back."
Elder Chiyo sighed, a sad, resigned sound. "They did not, Kaito. The desert claims many. You should have remained in the village, under our protection. Now, you've made a reckless return. This is not how we treat those who abandon our village."
The Fire Elder stepped closer, his hand subtly glowing with a faint fiery aura. "You are a junior, boy, one who fled. You will submit to the Elder Council's judgment. We will determine your fate."
Kaito's eyes narrowed. "My fate? You know nothing of my path."
His words, calm though they were, carried an inexplicable authority. The elders, accustomed to obedience from younger ninja, bristled.
"Insolence!" the Fire Elder barked, his fiery aura flaring slightly. "You dare speak to your seniors with such disrespect? Perhaps a taste of discipline will remind you of your place!"
He lunged forward, his hand intending to deliver a sharp, disciplinary blow imbued with a mild burst of Fire Ryu. It was meant to sting, to assert authority.
But before his hand could connect, Kaito moved. Not with visible speed, but with an almost ethereal grace. The Fire Elder's fist, still wreathed in flames, suddenly found itself met by nothing. Kaito wasn't there.
He had merely shifted slightly, a fraction of an inch, allowing the punch to pass harmlessly by his ear. He hadn't used extreme speed; he had used the Whispering Gale Ascension's fundamental principle of fluid movement, blending with the air currents to become momentarily intangible to the attack.
The Fire Elder stumbled, bewildered. Elder Chiyo's eyes widened. They had not even seen him move.
Kaito extended a hand, not to attack, but to demonstrate. A small, perfectly formed cyclone, no bigger than his palm, appeared hovering over his open palm. It pulsed with a contained power that felt ancient, raw. It wasn't the sputtering wisp he'd created three years ago; it was a miniature tempest, its core shimmering with untamed potential.
Then, with a gentle flick of his wrist, he sent the miniature cyclone spinning towards a large, sand-blasted boulder sitting at the edge of the training ground. The cyclone hit the boulder, not with a crash, but with a sharp, resonating hum. The boulder, a mass of solid rock, didn't shatter. Instead, it was carved clean through, a perfect circular hole appearing in its center, the edges as smooth as polished glass. The portion that had been cut out, a neat disc of rock, was levitated briefly by the residual air currents before gently falling to the ground.
A gasp rippled through the assembled elders. Their faces, once stern with authority, were now a tableau of stunned disbelief. The Fire Elder's jaw hung slack. Elder Chiyo, usually unflappable, had taken an involuntary step back, her eyes fixed on the perfectly carved boulder.
Kaito retracted his hand, the small cyclone dissipating. "I have no quarrel with Searing Sand," he said, his voice calm, resonating with the quiet power he now commanded. "But my path is my own. And my strength is… not what it once was."
The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air. He was not a junior to be disciplined. He was a force they could not comprehend, a living testament to a power they thought lost to legend. The village, once his entire world, suddenly seemed impossibly small.