Scene: Early Morning – Training Ground #3]
Riku stood alone in the fog-thick clearing, the sounds of distant training muffled by mist and memory. He held out his palm, fingers trembling slightly.
"Focus. Shape. Flow."
He could feel the chakra coil tighten in his core, then push into his hand. Slowly, the air shimmered with translucent color—and a shard of crystal began to form, jagged and incomplete.
It cracked apart after three seconds.
Damn it.
His breathing was too fast. He knew the hand signs. Knew the theory. But knowing it and feeling it were different. The anime had never mentioned how hard it was to shape chakra precisely—or how exhausting it was to push out something so alien to his body.
Still, he tried again. And again. On the fifth attempt, a crystal dagger formed cleanly in his hand. It sparkled faintly, glowing with the light of his chakra.
He stared at it, something between pride and fear twisting in his chest.
This isn't normal. I'm not normal here. And that's dangerous.
[Later That Day – Combat Class]
The instructor, a scarred jōnin named Koruba, barked commands.
"Pair off. Test each other's instincts. No lethal strikes—unless you're willing to deal with the consequences."
Riku sighed and moved toward the edge of the group, hoping someone forgettable would pick him.
That's when Shiroku Hozuki stepped forward.
"I'll take the crystal boy," he said, voice lazy but eyes sharp.
They bowed. They fought.
Riku's movements were clean, if cautious. Shiroku, by contrast, was fast and cruel—using water clones and feints to keep Riku on the defensive.
Then Shiroku shifted his kunai upward and whispered, low enough for only Riku to hear:
"You ever hear your victim beg? Or are you too soft for that?"
Riku's body moved before his mind decided.
A crystal blade formed in his palm—and drove forward. There was a flash of water as Shiroku dissolved into mist.
Substitution?!
A scream echoed behind him. Not Shiroku's. Someone else. One of the kids.
"Riku!"
Riku turned. His blade had lodged in another student's chest—an unfortunate boy who'd been pushed into the wrong place at the wrong time.
Blood pooled. The boy gasped once. Then nothing.
He was dead.
[Scene Cut – That Night]
Riku sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the dried blood on his training vest.
You knew this world was cruel.
You knew it from the start.
So why are your hands shaking now?
He remembered watching Itachi kill his clan in the anime. It had been dramatic. Powerful. Clean, in its own way.
This wasn't.
This was a mess. A twitch, a reaction, a mistake. Not some grand act of heroism or survival.
He hadn't killed for a cause. He hadn't killed to protect anyone.
He'd killed because he'd been taunted—and had reacted.
"I didn't mean to…" he whispered aloud.
But no one was there to listen.
____________
The instructors don't punish him—it was a "combat accident," and the Mist doesn't coddle killers.
Other students start avoiding him more—or trying to provoke him into showing off again
His mother notices the change but he doesn't speak about it
Riku begins to question his own use of Crystal Release—"If this is what power costs, do I even want it?
———————
Insight-Crystal is Beautiful, sharp, and beautiful and fragile Like me. like this world.
END