(The first Ren's past arc)
Ren woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind—no birds, no wind, no distant city hum.
This was the kind of silence that felt deliberate, like the world had decided to stop breathing.
His back pressed against cold stone.
Ren sat up slowly, fingers brushing the ground. The surface was cracked and uneven, worn smooth in some places as if countless footsteps had passed through long ago. When he lifted his hand, dust clung to his skin—old dust, untouched.
"…Where am I?" he muttered.
The air smelled wrong. Not smoke. Not blood. Something older. Iron, faint incense, and rain that hadn't fallen in years.
He stood.
Around him stretched the remains of a place that didn't belong in the present: broken pillars, collapsed wooden structures, and stone paths split by creeping grass. An abandoned dojo—or what used to be one—sat at the center, its roof half-caved in, banners torn and faded beyond recognition.
Symbols were carved into the stone.
Ren's chest tightened.
He didn't know why—but he knew those markings.
Not by memory.
By recognition.
His sword stirred at his side.
The hilt vibrated faintly, as if reacting to the ground beneath them. Ren tightened his grip instinctively.
"Hey… calm down," he whispered.
The sword didn't listen.
With a soft metallic sound, it slid partway from its sheath on its own.
Ren froze.
"I didn't—" He stopped himself.
The blade was reacting like it remembered this place.
As Ren stepped forward, the dojo creaked softly, wood groaning in protest. Each step sent a dull echo across the courtyard, and with every echo came something worse—
A sensation.
Not sight.
Not sound.
Memory.
His vision blurred for a second.
He saw flashes—not images, but feelings:
The weight of armor on his shoulders
Hands trembling around a sword too heavy for him
Someone shouting his name—not in anger, but fear
Ren staggered, catching himself on a broken pillar.
"No… that's not mine," he said, breathing hard. "That's not me."
The sword pulsed once.
Heavy.
As if disagreeing.
He looked down at it.
"…Why do you feel heavier?" Ren whispered.
A sound answered him.
Footsteps.
Not approaching.
Circling.
Ren spun—
No one was there.
But in the cracked surface of a fallen stone, he saw something reflected that wasn't behind him.
A shadow.
Tall. Still. Distorted, as if the air around it bent unnaturally. Its edges bled into the stone like ink dropped into water.
Ren turned fully.
The shadow stood at the far end of the courtyard.
It didn't attack.
It didn't move.
It bowed.
Ren's breath caught.
"…You know me," he said slowly.
The shadow lifted its head.
Its voice came not from its mouth—but from everywhere at once.
> "You survived."
Ren's hands shook.
"That's not an answer."
> "It was once your only talent."
The words hit harder than any strike.
Ren clenched his jaw. "If you're here to kill me, do it."
The shadow tilted its head, almost curious.
> "Why would we destroy what has not yet awakened?"
The ground beneath Ren's feet vibrated softly.
His sword slid fully free of its sheath.
Ren realized then—his heart pounding—that this place wasn't a prison.
It was a threshold.
And whatever he had forgotten…
…was walking back toward him.
Far away—
Tobi's chest tightened for no reason he could explain.
And somewhere between light and shadow, something ancient smiled.
(It's just a beginning)