Kairo sat on the cliff again, legs crossed, eyes closed.
Wind tugged at his dark hair, and the sea murmured below. Far behind him, Gon was probably chasing birds again, his laughter swallowed by forest leaves. But Kairo wasn't listening.
He was listening inward.
His breaths were calm. Measured. His posture exact. Not because someone had taught him—but because his mind, burning at 100% capacity, had reverse-engineered human physiology itself.
> "My brain is the engine. My body is the cage."
It frustrated him.
He had the knowledge of universities, think tanks, and lifetime prodigies compressed into one vessel. And yet, he couldn't lift a stone without tiring. Couldn't run far. Couldn't even defend himself if someone truly dangerous appeared.
He was trapped in softness.
And that couldn't continue.
---
He started pushing his body in secret.
At first, it was subtle—doing handstands behind trees, running across rocks barefoot until his feet bled, holding his breath until his chest screamed.
Not because he wanted to be strong like Gon did.
But because he had to become capable—not just of surviving in this world of Hunters, Nen, and danger—but of controlling Nen itself when the time came.
> "If I begin too soon, I'll strain the aura nodes."
Even with his godlike intellect, there were limits to how fast one could grow. Aura, like muscle, required time. He calculated the optimal starting age: six. That would be when his core energy system stabilized.
But until then, he could sharpen the blade that carried the mind.
---
At five, he could sprint the full curve of Whale Island's coast without stopping.
At five, he could hold a stone the size of his torso over his head for nearly a minute.
And at five, he could sense it.
A pulse.
A tingle beneath his skin. Not physical, not spiritual. Something deeper.
Aura.
He was getting closer.
---
"You're always alone up here," Gon said one afternoon, panting after chasing a wild fox halfway up the cliffs. "Aren't you lonely?"
Kairo glanced at him. "No."
"You never ask questions. Don't you wanna know how bugs work? Or where wind comes from?"
"I already know."
Gon tilted his head like a dog. "Then why don't you say anything?"
Kairo stood up. "Because some things are meant to be quiet."
It wasn't a lie.
It was survival.
The less Gon knew, the safer he would be.
But even Kairo couldn't deny—each time Gon smiled without reason, each time he dragged Kairo into a river or made up a game using sticks and dirt—something cracked inside.
Not pain. Not joy.
Just… a warmth.
Like memory trying to be reborn.
---
Later that night, Kairo crept into the forest with a cloth-wrapped stick across his back.
He had carved it himself—bamboo strengthened with tension threads and coated in tree sap. A training staff.
Every swing was silent. Precise.
He moved in patterns he had never been taught—but recreated from memory: martial arts from books, fighting forms seen in anime, even fencing steps used in Olympic combat.
> Slash. Guard. Step. Thrust. Reverse.
Over and over.
Until his shoulders burned.
Until his fingers blistered.
Until his muscles learned.
---
That was the night he first felt it.
A sudden heat from within. A ripple across his skin.
His hair stood on end. His breath hitched.
Aura.
It pulsed faintly—like the heartbeat of a beast too large to name. It wasn't much. Just a flicker. A shadow of what would one day bloom. But it was his.
He dropped the staff.
Sat down.
Closed his eyes.
> "Zetsu."
Nothing happened.
> "Ren."
Still nothing.
He wasn't ready. Not yet.
But the potential was there.
> "I can already feel the shape of my Nen. It's… unpredictable. Liquid. But piercing."
Specialization.
It made sense.
It was the category that didn't fit. The path with no rules. The talent born of those who defied logic.
And Kairo? He was logic—and contradiction.
---
The next day, Mito stared at him as he moved fish buckets like they weighed nothing.
"You've been exercising, haven't you?"
He paused. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because this world is dangerous."
She blinked. "That's… a strange thing to say."
Kairo realized the slip.
> "I should've said I want to protect people. Or be strong like Gon. I'm slipping."
He looked away. "Never mind."
But Mito didn't press. She just ruffled his hair again. "You're a strange one, Kairo. But I trust you."
That trust was dangerous.
It made her vulnerable.
But it also made her… precious.
---
As the sun set, Kairo sat beneath the tallest tree on the island, notebook in hand. He began to sketch.
Diagrams of aura flow. Chakra points. Muscle development timelines. His own growth chart. Meditation strategies. Breathing cycles.
Page after page after page.
Not because he needed to remember—he never forgot anything—but because writing helped him slow down the flood inside his brain.
> "Mind of a god. Body of a child."
He turned the page.
> "Soul of something in between."