Shiori was trying to avoid Akira. It was obvious to everyone, including the man, but she couldn't help it. Akira was taking it gracefully. He looked hurt by the behavior and even tried apologizing to her if he slighted her.
Shiori did her best to assure the man that it was not the case, but she didn't explain anything beyond that and kept avoiding him unless it was for training. The truth of the matter was that she was the one who had to apologize. But to do that, she had to confess.
It all started after they started their training with her seal. With the seal loosened, she was able to feel much more of what was happening around her subconsciously.
This, combined with the resistance she had gained to the sleep-inducing herbs she was fed, caused her to wake up every night. At first, she wasn't as bothered, and she would try to fall back asleep, but as her senses got more used to it, she noticed that something strange was happening.
Every night, objects floated outside her room. She could barely make their shadows, as there was no light outside besides the moon, and all she could see were shadows gliding and moving around.
Their movement was too smooth to be human, and she had no idea of what they could be. She wasn't willing to risk looking outside. The first night that she saw them, she panicked, and her emotions spiked slightly. The shadows were immediately drawn to her room, crowding it.
They made no move to enter, but it was still terrifying. She felt trapped and helpless. She didn't like the feeling. She had promised herself not to be either of those things when she first started training. She wanted to live. She did not want to die.
Her shinobi training kicked in, and she quickly rectified the mistake as she calmed her emotions and thoughts. It was hard, but as a medic, she needed to be able to manage her emotions under stress. After a few minutes, the shadows started moving again.
She let out a sigh of relief.
Unfortunately, it was only the beginning, as it kept happening every night. She would wake up to the tingling sensation of something rubbing against her senses. She would wake up and see the shadows wandering around. Thankfully, she never felt the presence she felt all those nights ago, but these shadows were still bothering her.
She learned quite a few things. They reacted to signs of her being awake and active. So, she was limited in what she could do. She couldn't reach with her chakra to get a better reading since it would point to her being awake.
For the same reason, she couldn't focus her senses, use more chakra, or show any emotions. The more in tune she was with the world around her and less focused on herself, the better.
It was hard since even the smallest mistake would immediately cause them to gather around her, but she was learning. She had to let go of emotions and feelings, to be one with the world around her, and let the world focus her attention instead of her active focus.
So she started meditating, letting her senses wonder at the world around her. It was hard to do so without letting her chakra change enough to signal her being awake, but her chakra control was good enough to do so to a degree.
She would let a trickle of chakra out, like a strand, and that chakra would subtly explore around without an active focus. Similar to a strand floating in the wind. She then tried to absorb as much as possible from the strand without forcing it.
She couldn't get a deep reading, but the chakra of the shadowy creatures was certainly strange. She had never felt anything like it before. Their chakra was raw and primal, filled with pain and anguish.
It was seeking. For what? She wasn't sure, but she could feel the helpless plea—the feeling of seeking and being incomplete, looking for the missing pieces. It was a feeling she often felt herself, so it was quite easy to relate.
She also learned a lot about their reactions. They didn't seem to care about objects or anything that didn't possess chakra. For those who did, they only cared for spikes of emotions.
If they sensed negative emotions, they would gather and crowd around them, trying to amplify and resonate with them. If the spike was positive, they would react violently, trying to attack it.
She was lucky that her reaction that first night was negative, or they might have attacked her. She wasn't willing to experiment with theconcepts running through her mind. Fearful that it may draw attention to her.
Still, she couldn't help but let herself wonder. What can those shadow creatures be?
The next day, Shiori was hunched over a seal she had been working on for a long time. She had always been fascinated by the connection between the mind and body. As a medic-nin, she knew that emotions were more than just thoughts—they had a profound effect on the body, from the way a heart raced in fear to the trembling hands of someone overwhelmed by anxiety.
These reactions could be the difference between life and death in the heat of battle or during high-stakes medical procedures. The more she studied, the more convinced she became that emotions, while necessary, could sometimes be a shinobi's greatest weakness.
After witnessing a fellow medic's hands falter during a critical surgery, Shiori wondered if separating emotions from their physical effects was possible. The idea struck her: if chakra could heal wounds and enhance physical abilities, could it not also control the body's reactions to emotions? What if she could block the signals that caused the body to react so violently—preventing shaking hands or a racing heartbeat that could throw off a shinobi's precision?
Driven by this theory, Shiori spent months studying anatomy and meditating on her chakra control. She believed the answer lay in targeting the pathways between the brain and body responsible for the physical symptoms of emotions. Using her chakra like a finely tuned net, she experimented with ways to block those signals, allowing the mind to register emotions while stopping the body's automatic responses. It was delicate, requiring precision, but if she could master it, the benefits would be groundbreaking—a shinobi who felt fear but wasn't crippled by it, or a medic who felt sorrow but kept their hands steady.
Creating the technique was far more difficult than anticipated. Although the concept seemed simple—using chakra to intercept emotional signals—executing it was anything but. She spent countless hours meditating, weaving chakra through the delicate pathways between the brain and body. Yet the results were always imperfect. Sometimes, she could block the effects briefly, but the signals surged back when her concentration slipped, causing her body to react. Other times, her control faltered entirely, leaving her drained.
The problem wasn't just her chakra control. The signals between the brain and body weren't simple; they were woven with nerves, hormones, and reflexes. Isolating and blocking them without disrupting other functions was nearly impossible. Her chakra drained too quickly every time she tried to sustain the effect.
But Shiori wasn't the type to give up. She knew the technique had potential; she had felt it, even if only for fleeting moments. Still, relying solely on chakra control wasn't enough—the technique required more stability. That's when she thought of seals.
Seals, she knew, could hold chakra and maintain control over complex systems designed to last without constant focus. A well-crafted seal could regulate chakra flow with unwavering precision. It was the perfect buffer she needed, guiding her chakra to target specific pathways without the exhausting demand for active concentration. This new path gave her hope—the solution lay in combining her chakra control with the stability of fuinjutsu.
Seals offered another critical advantage: they could make the process passive. Without seals, a medic would have to actively maintain the chakra net, constantly focusing on blocking emotional reactions. This kind of multitasking would be impossible in battle or during complex surgeries, where undivided attention was needed for healing. A seal, however, could automate the chakra flow, suppressing emotional responses without requiring constant focus. Medics could then work with steady hands and clear minds, free from the distractions of fear or stress.
Yet despite her progress, Shiori kept hitting a wall with the seals. Every time she tried, the problem came down to one critical issue: how to precisely target the signals between the brain and body without disrupting anything else. Emotions weren't just localized in one part of the brain; they activated multiple regions. Without an exact map of those connections, her seals were either too weak to function or too broad, risking interference with other bodily functions. This lack of precision was her biggest obstacle.
But now, things were different. What she had learned in the temple opened up a new possibility. By creating a miniature version of the Chakra Net inside her mind, she could link to the different regions responsible for emotions, forming a web that would guide the seal's effect. Instead of blindly blocking signals from the brain, the seal could now target specific pathways, isolating emotional signals while leaving other processes untouched.
The challenge now shifted from targeting the body to perfecting this internal web. Shiori theorized that if the seal could mimic the Chakra Net, it would act as an emotional gatekeeper. Signals would reach the net—just as her Sensory Zone felt emotions from others—but instead of passing through and triggering physical reactions, they would be caught and stopped by the seal. This would allow the user to register emotions mentally without feeling their physical effects.
Drawing on her knowledge of fuinjutsu, Shiori designed the seal to continuously cycle the chakra between the brain's emotional centers and the net. It was intricate work—the seal needed to sustain the connection without draining too much chakra, and it had to respond instantly without overwhelming the user. Even a slight imbalance in chakra flow could dull their senses or affect focus. However, with the Sensory Zone and Chakra Net as her guide, Shiori had a clear path forward.
Now that she understood how to link her mind's emotional pathways with the Chakra Net, she finally had the precision she needed to make the seal work. Where she had once been stuck, she now saw the solution clearly. Her new abilities had not only given her tools for diagnosing others—they had also unlocked the true potential of her seal.
She needed more time to finish the seal, but she was getting there. She was hoping that finishing the seal would help her overcome the challenges she was feeling at night and give her the possibility to wander around and explore without the chance of detection.