The following morning, Arima Masaki woke up before sunrise.
While most children his age were still dreaming peacefully, he was already sitting on his bed, staring at his small hands.
Yesterday's encounter with the three bullies had confirmed something he had suspected for a while.
His body was extraordinary.
The Fanalis bloodline was renowned for its monstrous physical abilities, particularly its incredible leg strength, explosive speed, and powerful constitution. In the world of Magi, Fanalis warriors were famous for physical feats that ordinary humans could scarcely imagine.
And Masaki possessed that bloodline.
Even though he was still a child, his physical capabilities were already far beyond what someone his age should possess.
He remembered how effortlessly he had avoided the bullies' attacks.
If this is what I can do without training, how strong will I become after years of proper practice?
The thought made him smile.
However, raw strength wasn't everything.
A powerful body without discipline was like a sword without a skilled wielder.
If he wanted to make the most of his inheritance, he needed proper training.
And fortunately, his mother had agreed to enroll him in a martial arts dojo.
There was only one problem.
His mother was determined to accompany him everywhere.
"Masaki! Breakfast is ready!"
"I'm coming, Mother."
He stood up and headed downstairs.
Another day of school awaited him, followed by the beginning of his martial arts journey.
For the first time since being reborn, he felt genuinely excited about the future.
After school, Shiori took Masaki to a small dojo on the outskirts of the village.
Unlike the grand martial arts halls he had imagined, the building was modest. Its wooden walls showed signs of age, and the courtyard contained several training posts, sandbags, and neatly arranged wooden weapons.
An elderly man stood outside, sweeping the entrance.
His gray hair was tied behind his head, and his back was slightly bent. At first glance, he looked like an ordinary old man enjoying his retirement.
However, Masaki immediately noticed something unusual.
The man's movements were economical and precise. Even while sweeping, his feet remained firmly planted, and his posture never lost its balance.
This was someone who understood his body.
"Excuse me," Shiori said politely. "We're looking for a martial arts instructor. My son wants to learn."
The old man stopped sweeping.
"How old is he?"
"He's still quite young," Shiori answered. "But he's very determined."
The old man looked down at Masaki.
"And why do you want to learn martial arts, little fellow?"
Masaki met his gaze without hesitation.
"I want to become stronger. I also want to learn how to control my strength properly."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly.
Unlike most children, Masaki wasn't boasting or trying to impress him.
He sounded sincere.
"Strength, is it? And what do you think strength means?"
"Having the ability to accomplish what you want without being helpless when something goes wrong."
The old man remained silent for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"Hahaha! Interesting answer!"
He introduced himself as Master Genzo, a retired martial artist who had spent decades training fighters before settling in the village.
"Very well, boy. I'll teach you. But don't expect special treatment just because you're young."
"I wouldn't want any."
Genzo raised an eyebrow.
Shiori, meanwhile, looked delighted.
"Please take good care of my precious son!"
"Mother, I'm right here."
"I know, sweetheart!"
Masaki closed his eyes briefly.
His training had barely begun, and he was already exhausted.
Not physically, of course.
Genzo's first lesson was surprisingly simple.
"Run."
Masaki looked at him.
"Run where?"
"Ten laps around the courtyard."
"That's the entire lesson?"
"For today, yes."
Masaki glanced at the courtyard.
Ten laps would be easy.
He began running.
At first, he deliberately restrained himself, keeping a steady pace. But even with his movements controlled, he completed the laps far faster than Genzo expected.
The old master watched carefully.
His acceleration is remarkable.
Masaki's legs were particularly impressive. Every step carried tremendous explosive force, allowing him to accelerate rapidly and change direction with unusual ease.
The Fanalis bloodline was especially renowned for leg strength. Its warriors could leap extraordinary distances, deliver devastating kicks, and move with frightening speed.
Masaki wasn't anywhere near the limits of that potential yet, but the foundation was clearly there.
When he finished, he wasn't even breathing heavily.
Genzo pointed toward the ground.
"One hundred squats."
Masaki immediately began.
Then came push-ups, basic stretches, balance exercises, and repeated footwork drills.
The exercises were simple, but Genzo demanded precision.
"Keep your back straight!"
"Don't let your knees collapse inward!"
"Control your breathing!"
Masaki followed every instruction.
He had expected the master to teach him impressive techniques immediately. Instead, the old man focused on building his foundation.
Afterward, Genzo explained why.
"Your body might be stronger than those of other children, but that doesn't mean you understand how to use it. If you neglect the basics, you'll develop bad habits. Strength makes mistakes more dangerous, not less."
Masaki nodded.
He understood the principle perfectly.
For the remainder of the session, he practiced standing correctly, moving his feet, maintaining his balance, and throwing basic punches.
When Genzo demonstrated a jab, Masaki watched closely.
The movement looked simple.
Yet the old man's fist shot forward and returned to its original position with astonishing speed.
"Fast punches aren't about swinging your arm wildly," Genzo explained. "Your stance, shoulders, hips, and breathing must work together. Speed without control is useless."
Masaki began practicing.
His first few attempts were awkward, but he gradually corrected his movements.
His Fanalis constitution gave him excellent physical potential, while his natural coordination helped him learn quickly.
Still, Genzo refused to let him rush.
"Again."
Masaki threw another jab.
"Again."
Another.
"Again!"
By the time the lesson ended, Masaki had practiced the same basic movement hundreds of times.
And he was already looking forward to the next session.
Balancing school and martial arts proved more challenging than Masaki expected.
His mornings were devoted to getting ready for school, while his afternoons involved homework, playtime, and training at the dojo on scheduled days.
Genzo insisted that he get enough sleep and eat properly.
"Muscles don't grow because you stare at them," the old master remarked. "Your body needs food and rest. Remember that."
Masaki took the advice seriously.
He didn't intend to sacrifice his education for martial arts. He would train consistently, study diligently, and improve a little every day.
However, another concern had begun occupying his thoughts.
Money.
His family wasn't wealthy. Shiori worked hard to provide for them, and although she always smiled around him, Masaki occasionally noticed how carefully she managed their household expenses.
His dojo lessons would add another expense to the family budget.
He didn't want his mother to struggle even more because of him.
That evening, while sitting at his desk with his homework finished, Masaki stared at a blank notebook.
There has to be a way to help her.
Then an idea emerged.
Writing.
In his previous life, he possessed memories of stories, fictional worlds, and countless ideas that could be adapted into entertaining works.
He couldn't simply reproduce everything he remembered, but he could use those memories as inspiration.
A manga or novel might be the answer.
He could create an original story with compelling characters, exciting battles, and an unforgettable world. If it became popular, the earnings could eventually help his mother financially.
Of course, becoming a successful author wouldn't be easy.
But he had time.
He picked up his pencil and wrote a title at the top of the page.
Then he began outlining his first story.
For the first time, Masaki considered a future that didn't depend entirely on physical strength.
He would train his body at the dojo, sharpen his mind at school, and use his knowledge to create something valuable.
His crimson eyes gleamed with determination.
I'll become strong enough to protect myself, skilled enough to control my strength, and successful enough to give Mother a comfortable life.
Outside his room, Shiori quietly peeked through the doorway.
Seeing her son working so seriously, she smiled warmly.
"My little Masaki is growing up so quickly."
She had no idea that the quiet boy at her desk was already planning to change their family's future.
And at the dojo, Master Genzo was beginning to suspect that his newest student possessed a truly exceptional talent.
The boy's journey had only just begun.
End of Chapter 5