Unlike yesterday, Tsumugi didn't have a morning staff meeting to attend, as those were only held once a week. Because of this, she stayed behind to personally supervise Ren's grueling practice for hours. Her hollow eyes missed absolutely nothing. She would frequently step in, using the tip of her own wooden blade to ruthlessly correct his footing or adjust the precise angle of his Master Cuts. This intense, one-on-one tutelage continued until it was finally time for her regular estate duties, forcing her to leave him to finish the remaining hundreds of repetitions alone.
As the morning dragged on and his muscles screamed in agony, Ren made a belated, wonderful discovery: his newly awakened Ki could actively replenish his physical stamina.
By carefully circulating that heavy, warm energy through his exhausted limbs, he was able to swing the heavy oak sword continuously without completely collapsing from fatigue. However, Ren was incredibly smart about how he used it. He intentionally chose not to channel the Ki into his muscles to artificially boost his striking power. He only used it to wipe away the lactic acid and exhaustion.
By refusing to use his magic as a crutch, Ren ensured that his actual physical body, his base strength, was being properly broken down and rebuilt with every single swing of the sword.
**********
This gruelling practice continued until the sun was high in the sky once more, signalling lunchtime. After grabbing a quick meal, Ren headed straight back to his secluded clearing in the woods.
This time, his goal wasn't to test his magic or practice his sword stances. He was there to strictly train his pain tolerance.
He had keenly noted how yesterday's impulsive, tree-punching stunt had left him completely debilitated. The sudden, agonizing shock of his bruised knuckles had shattered his concentration and rendered him entirely unable to even communicate with Kon. In a real life-or-death duel against Riku, freezing up from a moment of blinding pain would mean instant defeat.
To fix this glaring weakness, Ren planned to deliberately subject himself to gradually increasing levels of physical pain, forcing his mind and body to adapt to the shock so he could maintain his focus under pressure.
And no, for the record, Ren was not a masochist. He was simply just that desperate.
Then Ren, using a method similar to yesterday, raised his uninjured left hand, preparing to punch the tree hard.
Or at least, he tried to do so.
Because Ren had already experienced the agonizing pain of punching the solid bark yesterday, his body subconsciously rebelled to protect itself. His muscles instinctively seized up right before the point of impact, and what was supposed to be a heavy, bruising blow landed against the wood as softly as a cotton ball.
"Ah... Hmm..." Ren frowned, instantly noticing his own pathetic flinching. He stepped back, trying to think of another way.
First, he tried closing his eyes. He figured that if he couldn't actually see the target, his body wouldn't know when to brace for the impact. It was a solid theory for his second attempt, but he still failed. His fist betrayed him, automatically slowing down right before making contact.
Ren sighed. He knew his mental fortitude simply wasn't strong enough to willingly hurt himself. And honestly, with him being a six-year-old boy, could you really blame him?
So, he had to find a workaround. Flexing his otherworldly, super-genius mind, he began to analyse his spiritual power.
'Kon said that spiritual power can be used to weave illusions,' Ren thought, his eyes narrowing in concentration. 'And what are illusions associated with? The mind. Mind... mind control? Hypnosis?' Ren's brain started spiralling rapidly until he landed on a crazy, brilliant conclusion: self-hypnosis.
'But how do I even do that? Imagination?' Having absolutely no idea how professional self-hypnosis actually worked, he decided his only option was to rely on his raw imagination and just wing it.
Closing his eyes, Ren began to chant a single phrase repeatedly in his mind: 'You can hurt yourself, Ren.'
Over and over again, the mantra echoed. After a long moment, he slowly opened his eyes. The mental chanting had completely stopped. If someone were to just glance at him casually, they would think he had failed to do anything at all. But if they looked closely, they would notice a chilling change: his usually bright, precocious eyes had turned completely flat and hollow.
It seemed he had actually succeeded in hypnotizing himself.
Moving with a slow, almost mechanical stiffness, he walked up to the tree again. This time, without a single ounce of hesitation, he raised his left hand and punched the solid bark hard.
THUD! The heavy sound of his small fist striking solid wood echoed in the clearing.
"Ouch!" Ren cried out. Although the punch wasn't nearly as devastatingly heavy as yesterday's Ki-infused strike, he still shouted as the blunt pain flared through his knuckles.
The sudden, sharp shock instantly snapped him out of his hypnotic trance, returning the bright, conscious light to his eyes. But even as he hissed and clenched his small, throbbing fist, hoping the pressure would somehow lessen the stinging ache, a pained grin stretched across his face.
It hurt like crazy, but to Ren, this was a massive success.
"Hoo..." Exhaling a long, shaky breath as the worst of the pain finally faded, Ren closed his eyes again, ready to repeat the gruelling process with his constant, eerie chant.
He succeeded again, but he quickly noticed a slight problem: the time it took to enter the hypnotic state was getting longer. It seemed his mind was already building a subconscious resistance to his own self-hypnosis.
Although a little worried, Ren pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The delay was still barely noticeable. He logically deduced that by the time his brain developed full immunity to the trance, he would have already built up a considerable physical tolerance to the pain anyway. Or, at the very least, his mental fortitude would have grown strong enough that he could bypass his body's natural flinching and punch the tree through sheer willpower alone.
And so, the rest of the afternoon passed in a gruelling, brutal loop.
Ren methodically hypnotized himself, punched the unyielding bark, woke up shouting in pain, and repeated the process until both of his small knuckles were completely raw and bleeding.
As the sun finally began to set, he dragged his battered, exhausted body back to the estate's infirmary. After getting his newly ruined left hand cleaned and tightly bandaged by the exact same cold-faced (and likely very bewildered) nurse, Ren retreated to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep to prepare his broken body for another day of hellish training.
**********
The next day began just like the last. Ren woke up, washed up, and headed straight to the staff quarters' training field, where Tsumugi was already waiting for him, looking as valiant and immovable as ever.
The afternoon was spent continuing his gruelling pain tolerance training, this time systematically targeting a different body part. After another brutal session of self-torture, he dragged himself back to the exact same infirmary nurse to be patched up. By now, her cold, professional mask was starting to crack, replaced by a growing bewilderment and a very real, creeping sense of concern.
This disciplined, cyclical routine continued seamlessly for an entire week. But one crisp morning on the training field, Tsumugi finally lowered her wooden sword and stared at him.
"What happened to you?" she asked sternly.
Her hollow eyes were fixed on the tiny boy standing before her, who was now wrapped in stark white bandages from head to toe. During the first few days of his self-inflicted hell, Ren had gone out of his way to wear long sleeves and gloves, making sure his injuries weren't overly obvious. But after a week of systematically bruising and battering every single limb until they were all heavily wrapped and healing, he had finally run out of limbs. He had moved on to the last available target for his pain training: his head.
And unfortunately for Ren, a heavily bandaged head was completely impossible to hide. So, Ren has no choice but to tell the truth in a voice muffled by the bandages.
"Sigh..." Hearing his utterly absurd, yet terrifyingly logical, reasoning, Tsumugi let out a long, heavy sigh. Then, in a perfectly flat tone, she commanded, "...Follow me."
She turned on her heel and began walking toward the main staff quarters. Left with absolutely no other options, Ren sheepishly trailed behind her like a scolded puppy.
After navigating a series of winding paths deeper into the estate, Tsumugi and her heavily bandaged little follower finally stopped in front of an ornate set of wooden double doors.
Knock. Knock. Tsumugi raised her hand and rapped on the polished wood politely. A moment later, a cold, weary, and distinctly hoarse voice drifted out from the other side. "Who is it?"
"Head Maid, it is me, Tsumugi," she announced respectfully.
I know exactly what you are thinking. Yes, the Head Maid of the Ritsuzen estate possessed quarters that were shockingly luxurious for a mere servant. But she wasn't just any servant. She was a highly trusted pillar of the main family, and more importantly, she was one of the few staff members explicitly permitted to learn and wield real magic.
And that was exactly why Tsumugi had brought him here: to use healing magic to erase the weeks' worth of brutal, accumulated damage Ren had deliberately inflicted upon himself.
"Come in," the hoarse voice called out again.
Opening the heavy wooden doors with careful vigilance, Tsumugi and her little follower stepped inside. Sitting behind a large desk was an old woman with a sea of white hair braided into a single, long rope. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, and unlike Tsumugi's hollow gaze, her eyes held a wise and ancient spark. Yet, just like Tsumugi, her expression was entirely flat and unreadable. Perhaps long years of acting strictly professional had frozen that cold mask to her face permanently.
She wasn't wearing a traditional maid's uniform, either. Instead, she wore a plain, casual blue linen dress that betrayed her high status.
"Tsumugi, what do you need?" the Head Maid, Takayama Fumiko, asked without beating around the bush.
Bowing her head respectfully, Tsumugi reciprocated with a blunt request of her own. "Head Maid, may I request healing for this child?" she asked, gently pushing Ren forward so Fumiko could get a good look at the heavily bandaged boy.
'Oh?' Hearing this, Fumiko was greatly intrigued. 'The icy Sato Tsumugi is actually taking an interest in a child?' Weirdly, the elderly woman wasn't even surprised by the sheer amount of bandages covering the boy, looking at him as if battered children were an everyday occurrence.
"Who is he?" Fumiko asked calmly, her face remaining a perfect mask that showed absolutely no indication of her internal curiosity.
Tsumugi answered honestly, "This child is Ritsuzen Ren."
'Hm?' Fumiko turned her sharp focus entirely onto Ren. She instantly recognized the name; this was the famously untalented, unwanted child of the main Ritsuzen family. 'Perhaps this boy is different from the rest of his arrogant peers.'
"Um... um... greetings, Head Maid," Ren stuttered slightly, bowing toward Fumiko with perfect, respectful politeness.
"Mm." Fumiko nodded. The answer had already presented itself to her. 'So polite. He is indeed different.' She could immediately understand why Tsumugi had grown fond of him.
"Come here," Fumiko beckoned.
Nodding his head in affirmation, Ren slowly shuffled his way over to the desk. Looking up slightly at the sitting Head Maid, their eyes met. Fumiko carefully observed his gaze. Seeing the bright, unyielding liveliness hidden behind those young eyes, she grew more and more certain of her conjecture. 'His eyes are completely different from the rest of the Ritsuzen clan. So cute.'
Reaching a wrinkled hand toward the boy, she focused her mind. Without a single spoken chant, her palm began to emit a warm, glowing green light.
Instantly, Ren felt a massive wave of relief wash over him as the deep, lingering pain in his bruised muscles began to fade. Technically, he could have healed himself using his newly awakened Ki, but he had actively opted not to. He reckoned that forcing his body to recover naturally would help him adapt to the pain and build his tolerance much faster. However, since Tsumugi had practically dragged him here, he couldn't exactly oppose her one-sided decision.
Seeing Ren close his eyes in comfort as the magic washed over him, Tsumugi stepped up beside him and began carefully peeling away his bloodied bandages.