For all it's worth

By the end of the third week, Kairo's proficiency in Ten was undeniable. It had become second nature to him. The aura now surrounded him like a steady, invisible barrier—a constant hum of energy that he could expand and retract at will. His control was precise, and while the flow of his aura had once felt like a foreign concept, now it felt as natural as breathing. He could hold it indefinitely, even while maintaining focus on other tasks. His body, conditioned by relentless practice, had grown accustomed to the strain, and the trembling fatigue that once gripped him after an hour-long session no longer made an appearance.

Roderick had long since stopped giving him compliments, but the absence of scorn was enough for Kairo to know he had achieved the baseline level of mastery. For once, the cold instructor did not criticize, but he didn't acknowledge Kairo's progress, either.

"You're ready for the next lesson," Roderick finally said one morning, his eyes narrowing with an unreadable expression.

Kairo nodded, his mind already racing with anticipation. He knew the basics of Ten well now, and though he had no idea what the next lesson would entail, he was eager to prove his adaptability once again.

Roderick, as usual, gave little indication of what was to come.

"But be warned," he added with a rare glint of something sharp in his eyes. "This next lesson will push you beyond your limits. Do not expect it to come easily."

Kairo's pulse quickened at the challenge. He had grown used to physical and mental strain, but something told him that Zetsu, whatever it was, would be different.

Zetsu was the opposite of Ten, Roderick explained as he led Kairo to a small, sterile room. "Where Ten is about maintaining your aura, Zetsu is about closing it off. You'll seal your aura within your body, stopping its flow entirely. The challenge is in balance—restrict it too much, and you'll collapse your aura. Don't restrict enough, and you'll be exposed. You need to keep it contained and undetectable."

Kairo absorbed the instructions with his usual sharp focus, but the idea of sealing his aura felt strange. After all, Ten was about letting the energy flow freely, protecting and empowering him. Zetsu, in contrast, sounded almost like weakness—shutting himself off, cutting off the very thing that made him capable.

But Roderick was waiting, his cold gaze unyielding.

"Try it," he said simply.

Kairo closed his eyes and stood still, trying to recall the lessons he had learned about Ten. He let his aura expand slightly, feeling the familiar hum, the warmth of his energy circulating. Then, with a focused breath, he began to draw it inward. He imagined his aura retreating like the tides pulling back from the shore.

At first, nothing changed. His aura hummed around him as it always had. He tried again, this time focusing on pulling the energy deep within his core.

Still, nothing happened.

"Focus," Roderick barked. "You're thinking too hard. You need to feel it. Let go of the theory. Zetsu is about instinct. The more you force it, the harder it becomes."

Kairo clenched his fists, frustrated by the simplicity of the advice. But there was a kernel of truth in Roderick's words. He wasn't using his mind to control his aura as he had done with Ten. He was trying to manipulate it, but in doing so, he was overthinking the process.

Taking a deep breath, Kairo cleared his mind. He visualized his aura, not as a protective force around him, but as a delicate presence within. He thought of it like a thread, winding tighter and tighter, contained within his body, rather than spilling out.

As his concentration deepened, Kairo felt it. His aura shrank in on itself, contracting like a shrinking bubble. The sensation was almost imperceptible, but the pressure was there, contained and compact. He could feel it, but he could no longer see it. It was as though his very presence had faded, swallowed by the stillness inside him.

Roderick was watching closely. "You're getting there, but it's not enough. Zetsu requires full retraction. Your aura must be so tightly sealed that it's undetectable, not a trace left to sense. You're still visible."

Kairo's brow furrowed. Undetectable? How could he possibly reach that level of control? He had barely been able to grasp the concept, and yet, Roderick expected perfection.

The next several days were an endless cycle of attempts and failures. Kairo would concentrate, pull his aura in, only for it to slip loose and spill out again. He tried imagining it in different forms—coil, fold, twist—but nothing seemed to give him the level of control he needed.

But he refused to quit. Each failure only deepened his resolve. Kairo was determined not to repeat the mistakes of his earlier training. He would get this.

Finally, on the seventh day of his Zetsu training, Kairo reached a breakthrough. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first—a softening in the pressure within him, the aura no longer pushing outward. He allowed himself to relax his focus and, for the first time, felt the complete absence of his presence. He wasn't just sealing his aura; he had become nothing.

When Kairo opened his eyes, Roderick was standing in front of him, scrutinizing him as always.

"You're not there yet, but it's a start," Roderick said, a rare note of acknowledgment in his voice. "You've learned the most important thing about Zetsu: it's not about forcing your aura inside, but about knowing when to leave it alone. That stillness is what makes you undetectable."

Kairo nodded silently, still absorbing the feedback. He hadn't fully mastered it, but the road to understanding was beginning to take shape. His aura was under control, no longer a part of him that spilled out uncontrolled. He knew there was more to learn, but for the first time, he felt confident in his ability to continue adapting.

As he left the training room, Kairo's thoughts raced. This was just the beginning. He had learned to hide his presence, to vanish without a trace. What else could he do with his newfound mastery? The possibilities seemed endless, but he would have to wait for Roderick's next lesson.

He was ready for whatever came next.