Clambering out of bed, freshening and cleaning himself up, and making the way down to the training yard was the hardest part of the day. At least Riku thought so.
Just what I needed...
Brushing his teeth and taking a shower did nothing to the sheer exhaustion in his body. Riku kept yawning as he walked to the training yard, passing by Akio and Mei, who were in the kitchen eating breakfast.
As Riku passed by the both of them, he couldn't help but notice that they had concerned, yet suspicious looks on their faces. Did they see through his earlier deflections?
It wasn't a big deal, was it? They lived, so there was nothing to be said, right?
Riku lowered his gaze as he slipped past Akio and Mei. The smell of miso soup and steamed rice clung to the air, homely and grounding, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing on his chest. He heard the faint scrape of utensils and their quiet chewing.
But none of them said a single word.
Riku's fingers dug further into his palm, trying to will himself forward to the training yard. His shoulders curled inward, his whole frame shrinking in on itself, as if by making himself smaller he could dodge the questions hanging unsaid in the room behind him.
They know. They must know.
The thought gnawed at him. He could still hear Akio's words burning into his head this morning.
They don't know everything, though.
And that was the problem.
Riku's stomach twisted. He wasn't keeping quiet because he wanted to — every part of him screamed to blurt it out, to say that something does not add up.
But his tongue stayed heavy, chained by fear.
Fear of what, though?
He wanted to believe it was for their sake, to spare Akio and Mei from the burden of worrying about a mystery that might not even have answers. That was the noble lie he told himself. But deep down, he knew the uglier truth.
He was afraid of being wrong.
What if he was imagining it? What if all this suspicion was just him trying to rationalize a miracle? If he told them, if he poured out all his doubts, and they dismissed him with a simple explanation — or worse, pitied him — then what? He'd look paranoid. Weak. Like a child still lost in shadows long after the sun had risen.
And that wasn't fair. Not to himself. Or to Tetsuya, who was still unconsciously fighting for his life in the medical wing.
And even if he was right, if something else had intervened in the shrine…
The answer to what terrified him more than the Silent God itself. Better to stay as close to normalcy as he could.
Salvation.
That's what normalcy was to him.
Riku swallowed hard, forcing down the guilt like a stone. If Akio and Mei survived because of something he didn't understand, then it was on him to figure it out. Quietly. Alone. They didn't need the weight of another unknown pressing on their backs. They'd already carried him far enough.
Each step toward the training yard dragged the thought back up, sharper than before. There was something else at play. He remembered the exhausting relief he felt upon finding Tetsuya, flashes before the Silent God had collapsed, the kaleidoscopic mirrors that Kapaala had summoned to weaken the deity, and meeting Akio and Mei.
He even remembered going to school that morning, when everything was whole and complete.
And then… nothing.
His memory slid like water through open fingers, leaving only the faintest trace of something forgotten. Like a word on the tip of his tongue, or a face blurred beyond recognition. A page turned by an eager reader, only for it to have no words to regurgitate. The harder he tried to hold onto it, the more it slipped, until all that remained was a hollow unease, a certainty that he was missing something important.
Maybe it was for the best, no?
Riku shook his head, forcing those thoughts to vacate from his mind and focus on whatever the day had in store for him. At this point, avoiding inner turmoil was like avoiding hunger. Impossible.
If he couldn't answer his doubts, then at least he could strengthen his body. One problem at a time.
He pushed the doors open to the expanse of the training grounds, the sunlight providing a bright hue to the area. Renjirō stood in the center, his posture relaxed and his face even more so.
He turned as Riku entered, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.
"Good morning, Riku," Renjirō said, his calm voice carrying easily through the air. "Have a good night's sleep?"
Riku wanted to say yes, but his eyes already gave away the truth. He chuckled dryly. "Totally..."
Renjirō quirked an eyebrow slightly, and the same look of skepticism that was on Akio and Mei's face, had graced his visage. "Are you sure? Mei told me how tired you were and how you got no sleep. Is there something you wish to tell me?"
Damn it all. There it was again. A look of understanding and care, followed by a rush of doubt, and what-ifs.
"No... I'm fine. I can take on this entire day, no problem. I've never heard of fatigue." Riku said, sarcastically.
Renjirō's concern slowly dwindled down as he chuckled in response, gesturing for him to step closer. While he seemed less worried, there was still a tint of alarm in his expression. "Then you'll be glad to hear today's lesson isn't about pushing your limits. It's about expanding them. We're going to begin with a fundamental skill every mantrik must master. Mantra reinforcement."
"Reinforcment...?" Riku asked.
Renjirō nodded. "You may have learned to limit the amount of mantra you passively exude, which enhances your efficiency. But what is efficiency without a form of action?"
Riku stared in puzzlement, the cryptic words doing nothing to mend the confusion stirring in his mind.
Renjirō smiled. "Mantra reinforcement is the practice which makes a mantriks body, more than flesh and bone. An average mantrik is stronger than majority of the humans on Earth. Why? Because they use mantra to enhance their physical strength beyond ordinary means."
He gestured to a thick wooden post planted firmly in the training yard. Its surface was scarred with cracks from countless strikes. "Try hitting it."
Riku blinked. "Just… normally?"
"Yes." Renjirō nodded. "Don't try to focus on mantra or about the training from the previous days. Just punch it how you normally would."
Riku shrugged, squared his stance, and threw his fist forward. His fist connected with the post, the feeling of the rough wood slammed into his knuckles.
The impact jolted up his arm, sharp pain lancing through his knuckles. He hissed, shaking his hand. The post didn't so much as wobble. "Ow! Damn it..."
Renjirō nodded knowingly. "That is a human punch. Strong enough to hurt you, not strong enough to matter."
Riku cradled his hand, noticing slight white marks on his knuckles, evidence of the earlier contact. "Who would've guessed?" Riku muttered, flexing his sore fingers.
Renjirō tilted his head, studying Riku's reddened knuckles. "Tell me something Riku. Have you seen professional fighters, boxers, and martial artists in action before? Why do you think they hit harder than others? Why their knuckles and limbs endure more pain than the average person?"
Riku hissed through his teeth, still shaking his hand. He contemplated the question for a minute. The most he's seen is in some movies he used to watch when he was younger, whenever he'd visit Tetsuya's house. But even then, the image wasn't clear.
"They train more? Exercise more?"
Renjirō's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Partly. But there's a deeper law at work. Have you heard of Wolff's law?"
Riku shook his head.
"It is a principle of biology. When you repeatedly strike something with your hands — a heavy bag, a makiwara board, anything with resistance — you create tiny, microscopic fractures in the bones of your knuckles and metacarpals. Harmless at first, but your body recognizes them as damage. And when it heals…" He cracked his knuckles, flexing his fingers and loosening them up. "...it doesn't just restore the bone. It reinforces it. One's body will continue to add density, making those bones harder, stronger. The bones of a warrior aren't born... They're forged."
Riku blinked. It made sense, obviously. This applied to any human, including him. But for mantriks who have abilities that push the concept of order and reality to the edge, what did this even mean for him?
"But no matter how much an ordinary human trains, there's a limit. Bone can only grow so dense before it fails." Renjirō's tone hardened. "A mantrik, however… can refute that limit entirely."
He flexed his hand, and for a split second, Riku saw a flash of light coating through the veins that could be seen through. Mantra was weaving through his arm, like smoke that was drawn into a forge.
"Mantra reinforcement is the act of channeling mantra into a limb — not only to strengthen the blow, but to heal the damage as it happens. Every strike would normally create fractures. But with mantra flowing, those fractures mend instantly, growing denser and denser in ways nature never intended. Where Wolff's law takes months, we do it in moments."
Riku's confusion slowly ebbed away, but one question still lingered in his mind. "Why would I need to learn this, if I have Kapaala?"
Renjirō smiled a little more. "You bring a good point. A Bhāṇḍa grants you strength, yes. But strength in the abstract is never the same as strength built. What happens when your Bhāṇḍa is suppressed? When your mantra runs dry, or an enemy's ability seals it away? You'll still have your body. And if your body is weak, then so are you."
The words landed with a weight heavier than any blow.
Renjirō's tone hardened. "I know, given what happened back at the shrine, that you'd think physical power would be of no consequence. But this world isn't just symbols and rituals. Beyond all of the esoterica of this world, sometimes what decides survival is raw power. A fraction more speed. A body that doesn't break when struck. A fist that can shatter stone even without mantra."
Shatter stone? You mean the post can be broken with a punch?! Why the hell am I here?!
Renjirō stepped toward the post again, resting his palm against it. "Mantra reinforcement is the bridge between spirit and flesh. It teaches your body to carry the current of power, and it allows for your body to adhere to the rules of this world, and not crumble under its pressure."
Riku's chest tightened. He could hear the conviction in Renjirō's voice, a conviction carved from years of battles survived. It wasn't just a lesson. It was a warning.
Renjirō exhaled slowly, then curled his fist. His knuckles gleamed faintly with the shimmer of mantra, like heat-haze made solid.
"Watch closely. This is the difference between flesh alone and flesh that answers to mantra."
The punch landed with a sound like thunder. The post didn't splinter—it exploded, fragments scattering across the training ground as if the wood itself had recoiled in terror.
Riku stared, wide-eyed. The same post that made pain shoot through his knuckles, was this same post. Shattered, in shards, and no longer whole, because of one punch. Destroyed by nothing but pure body, pure force, with no artifact in sight.
Despite being inducted into this world officially, one thing was now very clear to Riku, as if it wasn't obvious enough.
They're out of my league...I'm nowhere near as strong... as I thought I was. As actual people, Dr. Tsukimura and the others are on a whole other level! How much... did it take for him... to even get here?
Renjirō shook the dust from his hand. "That," he said, voice calm once more, "is why you will learn mantra reinforcement. A mantrik without a body to match his will is a man half-armed."
He stayed silent for half a moment, letting the words sit for a while. Then, with the same calm gravity, he clapped his hands together and turned to Riku.
"Now, enough on the theory of it all. You're smart enough to grasp that. Now, it's time to learn."
Riku's head snapped up, still nursing his sore knuckles. "To do what you did?"
"Yep!" Renjirō said.
Riku swallowed. He can't be serious...
Renjirō smirked. "Shattering the post seemed too easy?"
Riku began. "…That's not the point."
"It is, actually." He gestured for Riku to stand closer. "Do not concern yourself with the results and what could happen. You have a right to the process of it all... but not the end of it. I'm not expecting you to break it one go. I'm asking you to try. Nothing more, nothing less."
Riku sighed and took his stance, though his hands still trembled slightly from the last exercise.
Renjirō folded his arms. "This is something everyone here knows. Me, Akio, Mei, and Ms.Uro. When all else fails, your body is what you have left. And we know it. You will too."
He pointed to Riku's arm. "Let's start simple. Reinforcement begins with the limb you choose to act with. It's not about coating your entire body yet—that'll come later. For now, focus on your right arm."
Riku lifted his arm hesitantly. "And I just… coat it? How?"
Renjirō's tone deepened, slipping into the calm cadence of a teacher. "Close your eyes. Take in a breath, hold it, and listen."
Riku did as he was told.
"Now," Renjirō continued, "I assume that you've been told a basic principle of mantra manipulation by the others, no? To excel at mantra is to excel at envisage. That applies here as well."
Riku looked at him. "I need to imagine it coating my arm?"
Renjiro nodded. "Given that you mastered leakage prevention a few days ago, visuals won't be of issue to you. To start mantra reinforcement, pick the limb you want to coat. For now, your dominant arm. Imagine mantra welling up from your Gate — the Third Eye, in your case — and coursing down that arm. Picture it seeping into your muscles, filling the gaps between each fiber, wrapping around the bone."
He stepped back. "Don't rush. You already learned to contain mantra within your gate. Now, you just need to guide it out — deliberately, not leak it."
Riku inhaled slowly. The air smelled faintly of ash from the shattered post.
He closed his eyes. The world dimmed to the pulse beneath his skin — slow, steady, searching.
He felt it. The ink that coalesced into those random phrases, that lined up the pages of a book that held unknown stories and morals. Riku could see it as if it was something to be found in an actual library behind opulent doors.
He guided towards his hand, trying to imagine the lines of words wrapping around his arm, like a rope.
The sensation was strange — weightless yet heavy, like his own blood had turned aware of itself.
He exhaled, feeling it tighten around his arm, coiling around his fist.
Renjirō's voice cut through the silence. "Now, hold that image. Don't let it fade. This is the first layer of reinforcement. Once you feel the weight settle, throw your punch."
Riku opened his eyes. The world seemed dimmer, quieter. Every heartbeat echoed in his arm.
He inhaled deeply, locked the fog-like image around his fist, and drove his arm forward.
The impact cracked through the air.
Pain flared up his knuckles, but it was… dulled. Muted, compared to before. The post didn't shatter — not even close — but a solid dent cratered into its surface, small splinters spraying off the point of contact.
Riku stepped back, shaking his hand. "Ow… that—" He blinked. "That hurt less."
Renjirō grinned. "Of course it did."
Riku looked at his knuckles, faintly bruised but intact. "I didn't break it though."
"You weren't supposed to." Renjirō walked up to the post, running a finger along the dent. "You're coating your arm in mantra, but only on the surface. What you need is density."
"Density?" Riku asked.
"Yeah. Think of your mantra like clay. Right now, it's soft. It can provide a small protective layer over your muscles and bones, but not enough to break this post here. As you refine it, it'll start hardening. You'll feel that tension — that compacted heaviness under your skin. That's when your body truly becomes reinforced."
He looked over his shoulder, voice lowering. "And that's the part most mantriks never get right. They visualize the surface, but not the substance."
Riku glanced at his hand again, the faint silver flicker of energy fading from sight. "Surface, not substance…"
Renjirō gave him a pat on the shoulder. "But you're close. Most beginners can't even make the post shake the first day. You left a dent. That means your body's syncing with your mantra. Keep repeating it. Over and over. Every time you do, it'll flow faster, settle denser, hurt less."
Riku looked at his arm, realizing that he truly could get it to do the unthinkable that he saw a few moments ago. Shattering the post... it seemed a little distant. But he still felt it the faint hum. The pulse that wasn't just his heartbeat anymore.
He exhaled slowly, a small grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
Surface, not substance, he thought. I'll get there.
The air slipped through the courtyard, brushing against the broken post and the faint dent of progress beside it. Riku flexed his fingers once more, feeling the mantra whisper back.
He didn't shatter it. But for the first time, he felt like he could.
And that was enough for today.