Fate/Sage Order

"A year may seem like a short time, but it is enough to begin shaping a lifetime."

Nagato's POV

One year. It had been one year since I awakened in this world with the memories of my past life. A year of careful progress, constant learning, and relentless effort. A year of mastering the basics of both magecraft and chakra, two systems of power that were becoming the foundation of my survival.

My first steps had been tentative, focusing on concealment and understanding the tools at my disposal. But as the months passed, I began to delve deeper, expanding my knowledge and refining my skills. The charges from Inspired Inventor were precious, and I had used them judiciously. Each charge felt like unlocking another door in a vast labyrinth, one that I had to navigate to ensure my future in this dangerous world.

Application of Charges

With one charge granted each month by Inspired Inventor, I had learned to be deliberate in how I used them. While I technically had more charges than I had spent, I made it a point to maximize the knowledge I gained before unlocking new abilities. Rushing to expand too quickly would only lead to a shallow understanding, which would be dangerous in the long run. I approached each charge with careful planning, ensuring that I fully utilized the knowledge and skills I already had before moving forward.

By now, I had used charges for:

Theory of Magecraft — Starting with magical circuits, od, and concealment, I had progressed to understanding the basics of magical control exercises. This included focusing and releasing magical energy in a controlled manner, basic hypnotism techniques (self and otherwise), and an introduction to the concepts of elements and origin.

Magical Concealment — This was one of my earliest priorities. With practice over months, I could now suppress my magical aura almost instinctively, though it still required focus in stressful situations.

Circuit Activation — The initial struggle to activate my circuits had given way to a controlled process. While the burning discomfort lingered, I could now activate them with minimal delay.

Bounded Fields — I could create small, rudimentary bounded fields. They were not powerful, but they were functional—suitable for masking presence or sensing minor intrusions.

Magical Sensing — This was a newer addition, allowing me to feel the subtle shifts in magical energy around me. It was like a ripple in a still pond—distinct yet fleeting.

Chakra Theory — My understanding of chakra had deepened. Beyond the basics, I now understood how chakra interacted with the environment, the balance of physical and spiritual energies, and its integration with elemental affinities.

Chakra Control — The leaf-sticking exercise had evolved into more precise control techniques. Over time, this mastery of chakra control began to subtly affect my body. My strength and stamina were improving, almost imperceptibly, but enough to feel the difference during physical activities. Channeling chakra through my hands and feet felt like unlocking hidden reserves of energy, enhancing my grip, balance, and endurance. While maintaining it under stress was still a challenge, the progress hinted at a potential far beyond what I initially believed my body capable of.

Chakra Sensing — This ability had been a revelation. While magical sensing allowed me to feel energy in motion, chakra sensing felt personal, almost intimate. I could sense the presence of living beings, their vitality like a candle flickering in the dark. It made the world feel alive in a way I hadn't experienced before.

Daily Routine

My days were split between the orphanage, kindergarten, and my private training. By this point, Maple Leaf Kindergarten had become familiar territory, though my interactions with other children remained superficial. I played along with their games, but I couldn't shake the sense of distance that my memories and maturity created.

"Nagato, you're always so serious!" Hiroki complained one day as we built a sandcastle. "It's like you're not even a kid."

I forced a laugh, ruffling his hair. "Just thinking about how to make the castle stronger," I replied, deflecting the comment.

Still, I had to admit that these moments—as awkward as they sometimes felt—grounded me. They reminded me that, despite everything, I was still human.

Progress and Struggles

The progression of my abilities wasn't without its hurdles. Magecraft, even with the knowledge Inspired Inventor provided, was slow and methodical. Exercises in magical control left me drained, and hypnosis was a challenge—it demanded an iron focus and subtlety that didn't come naturally to me.

Chakra, while more intuitive, had its own set of difficulties. Chakra control exercises like climbing walls or walking on water felt tantalizingly close, yet just out of reach. My chakra sensing ability was limited by range and precision; sensing large groups or specific individuals required intense concentration.

What frustrated me most was my lack of practical experience. All the theory in the world couldn't substitute for real-world application. But I knew I had to be patient. Rushing into danger would accomplish nothing.

New Discoveries

The most fascinating part of my training had been the interplay between magecraft and chakra. While magecraft felt restrained—almost like the world itself was pushing back against its use—chakra flowed freely, unburdened by Gaia's interference. It was a stark contrast, and I couldn't help but wonder if this freedom was the key to surviving in this world.

Through magical sensing, I began to notice faint traces of magecraft in Matsushiro—minor spells woven into charms, protective wards on certain buildings. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it confirmed that magecraft existed here beyond my efforts. Chakra sensing, meanwhile, revealed the vibrant presence of life all around me. Every person, plant, and animal radiated their own unique energy.

These abilities brought a sense of clarity and connection that was almost overwhelming. The world felt alive in ways I had never considered before.

Decisions for the Future

As I sat beneath a tree in the orphanage yard, the fading light of the evening casting long shadows, I reviewed my progress. My thoughts churned, dissecting every aspect of my abilities and knowledge as I tried to chart the best course forward.

Magecraft and chakra were the cornerstones of my survival, each with unique strengths and weaknesses. Over the past year, I had worked tirelessly to lay the foundation for both, but the path ahead was far from straightforward. One realization had become clear over the past year: I needed to focus on mastering magecraft before delving too deeply into chakra. While chakra had its advantages, such as its unrestricted flow and intuitive nature, it couldn't fully compensate for the challenges unique to this world.

Magecraft offered tools and knowledge crucial for surviving the dangers of the Nasuverse. Rituals were a cornerstone of this system, serving as a bridge between abstract concepts and tangible results. Blood, for instance, could forge symbolic connections, chalk or salt could define protective or ritualistic boundaries, and ambient energy enhanced the overall outcomes. Understanding these materials and their symbolic significance elevated rituals from simple tools to precise, strategic applications. Each spell, exercise, and ritual represented a piece of a larger puzzle—a means to bridge the gap between theory and survival. Rituals weren't simply theoretical exercises; they were practical tools tailored for solving real-world problems. Whether it was creating protective wards, amplifying magical energy, or countering supernatural threats, these practices ensured I had tangible strategies for survival. It provided ways to counteract phantasmal species, manipulate the environment through bounded fields, and combat threats steeped in magical energy. Additionally, chakra, while powerful, lacked the ability to sense magecraft or magical constructs effectively. This limitation made it less versatile in detecting potential threats within the Nasuverse, a world teeming with mysteries and dangers shaped by magical principles. Mastering magecraft first would give me a broader toolkit to prepare for the worst, allowing me to engage threats with a foundation rooted in this world's systems before transitioning fully to chakra.

This strategy also aligned with my long-term goal of survival. By focusing on magecraft, I would gain tools to counteract the supernatural and phantasmal species that populated this world. Understanding elements and origin would allow me to craft spells tailored to my affinities, maximizing their effectiveness. Mastering rituals, meanwhile, would provide a structured approach to solving problems beyond raw power. My understanding of magecraft's elements, such as origins and elemental affinities, was incomplete but steadily growing. Discovering my origin and elemental alignment would help define the kind of spells I could master most effectively. Was my nature tied to fire, water, or something more abstract like void? Knowing this would shape the kind of mage I could become, and the knowledge would offer me an edge against the mysteries and dangers ahead. If I could build a strong foundation in magecraft, I would be better equipped to handle the early challenges of the Fate universe, where magical threats were pervasive. Chakra, while potent, could come later, as its utility was more personal and self-contained. For now, magecraft was my priority, ensuring I could defend myself and adapt to the world's dangers effectively. A year of learning had given me a strong foundation, but I knew it wasn't enough. If I wanted to truly prepare for the challenges ahead, I needed to accelerate my training.

Ms. Yamamoto's POV

Nagato was an enigma. In all my years of teaching, I had never encountered a child quite like him. He grasped concepts far faster than his peers, his responses thoughtful and mature beyond his age. At first, I attributed it to natural intelligence, but as the weeks turned into months, it became clear that there was something more to him.

"Ms. Yamamoto, why does Nagato always sit by himself?" Rika, one of his classmates, asked me one day.

I smiled at her, ruffling her hair gently. "Nagato just likes to think a lot. He's not like everyone else, but that's not a bad thing."

Still, I couldn't shake my concern. Part of me wanted to push for Nagato to join advanced classes. It would challenge him, give him an environment more suited to his abilities. But another part of me hesitated. He was just a child, after all. Shouldn't he have the chance to enjoy the innocence of youth? If I pushed him too hard, would he lose the simple joys of childhood forever?

"He's special," I murmured to myself one afternoon, watching him from my desk as he meticulously worked on an assignment. "But I wonder if that's a blessing or a burden."

Fast-tracking my education had been a necessary decision, and while it gave me more time for practice, it came at the cost of standing out. Over the past year, I'd begun to feel more and more like an outlier, not just among the children at Maple Leaf Kindergarten, but even within the orphanage. The distance between myself and the others was growing—a rift that wasn't deliberate but felt inevitable. My thoughts and focus were so far removed from their daily lives that bridging that gap seemed harder each day. The other children at the orphanage had begun to notice my quieter demeanor and my tendency to focus on studies. A younger boy, Taro, once tugged at my sleeve and asked, "Nagato, why don't you play tag with us anymore?" His wide eyes held an innocence I could no longer relate to.

"I'm just tired, Taro," I said gently, patting his head. "You go play; I'll join next time."

He nodded, but his disappointment was clear. Moments like these made me realize how far removed I felt from the simple joys of childhood. The few connections I had were meaningful, though bittersweet. Ayumi's warmth and Ms. Kuroda's steady presence gave me a sense of family I hadn't known I would miss so much. Yet, the drive for survival was a cold force that made it harder to lean into those bonds. There were moments when I questioned whether staying in this village was the right choice. Would leaving, despite the dangers, grant me the focus and freedom I needed to grow stronger? Or would it strip away the fragile foundation of support I still clung to? The decision weighed heavily on me, unresolved but looming. Still, I tried to balance these moments with my training, knowing they grounded me in a way nothing else could. Ms. Yamamoto and Ms. Kuroda often remarked on my quick grasp of lessons, and Ayumi's watchful eyes never missed my growing confidence. She often found small ways to show she cared, like slipping an extra cookie onto my plate during snack time or sitting beside me when I was deep in thought. "You know," she said one evening as she braided another child's hair, "You're like an old man in a kid's body sometimes, Nagato. Don't forget to have fun, okay?"

I smiled faintly at her words but didn't respond directly. It was hard to explain to her or anyone that my idea of fun had shifted drastically. Still, her warmth reminded me of what I was working to protect.

"You're always thinking ahead," Ayumi had said with a teasing smile one evening. "You'll probably grow up to be a professor or something."

I chuckled at her words but didn't respond. Explaining my true goals would only complicate things. For now, I had to focus on what I could control.

"Step by step," I murmured to myself, clenching my fists with renewed determination. "If I keep moving forward, I'll be ready for whatever comes next."

Mastering the fundamentals of magecraft and chakra control felt satisfying, but a gnawing frustration lingered. Theoretical exercises and carefully crafted rituals could only take me so far. I needed real-world situations—actual scenarios where my skills would be tested under pressure. Without this, it felt like I was running drills in an empty room, never quite knowing if they would work when it truly mattered.

The thought haunted me. What if, when the time came, all this preparation amounted to nothing? It wasn't just the lack of practical experience that weighed on me—it was the fear of the unknown. The Nasuverse wasn't a forgiving place, and every piece of lore I recalled underscored how easily even the strongest could fall.

I clenched my fists, trying to calm the storm of doubt in my mind. My chest felt tight, and my breathing quickened as the anxiety bubbled to the surface. "What if I'm not ready?" I muttered to myself, the words barely audible.

But I couldn't let these thoughts consume me. I forced myself to take slow, deliberate breaths, focusing on the present. Step by step, I reminded myself. Mastery of the basics was a crucial foundation. Real-world experience would come in time, and when it did, I would face it head-on. Each step forward had been deliberate, every decision shaped by the need to prepare for the worst. With this foundation in place, I resolved to deepen my focus on magecraft before turning fully to chakra mastery. The more prepared I was, the greater my chances of survival in a world that demanded nothing less than perfection. With a clear strategy in mind, I resolved to dedicate the next few years to mastering magecraft. By the time I turned my full attention to chakra, I would already have the tools to confront this world's dangers head-on. For now, each charge, each exercise, and each lesson would bring me one step closer to being prepared for the worst the Nasuverse could throw at me.

I planned to allocate future charges toward enhancing my physical capabilities through reinforcement—a cornerstone of magecraft that would allow me to strengthen my body in combat. In addition, I intended to focus on acquiring basic spells that would further expand my versatility. These spells included elemental manipulations like minor fire and water control, protective barriers, and basic offensive techniques such as energy projections. While simple in theory, they would lay the groundwork for more advanced applications in the future. Additionally, I resolved to spend four specific charges in the coming days to solidify my understanding of key concepts. The first charge would deepen my knowledge of the theory of origin and elements, allowing me to grasp how they influenced spellcasting and individual affinity. The second would focus on rituals, giving me the foundation to perform complex actions—understanding not only how but why specific materials and methods worked. For example, a ritual to amplify magical energy might require incense for focus and symbolic herbs for clarity. The third and fourth charges would go toward two specific rituals: one to determine my elemental alignment and another to discover my origin. These discoveries would unlock deeper pathways in my training, providing clarity on how to proceed. One charge would go toward advancing my knowledge of the theory of origin and elements, delving deeper into the magical underpinnings of identity and affinity. Another charge would focus on rituals, a core aspect of magecraft that demanded precision and preparation. By adding an extra charge, I aimed to deepen my knowledge of the intricate connections between the material and immaterial. For instance, understanding how blood's symbolic weight ties to life and intent, or how chalk and salt physically anchor magical boundaries to the world, would elevate my ritual work. This deeper knowledge would allow me to enhance the effectiveness and precision of my spells and create rituals that bridged the gap between raw magical energy and the structured outcomes I sought. Rituals were more than just a means to an end; they were an art form that required both knowledge and discipline. Understanding these elements would ensure I could perform them effectively when needed. I would then allocate a charge specifically for the ritual to discover my elemental alignment and another for the ritual to determine my origin. These rituals were critical stepping stones to understanding my magical identity and shaping my long-term strategy. These foundational skills would be invaluable for dealing with the unpredictable threats of this world. Now, it was time to build on it.

While the details of my strategy were still vague, a certain clarity was beginning to emerge. My approach would need to be multifaceted, blending methodical study with practical readiness. I had to find ways to test my abilities safely, pushing the boundaries of what I could achieve without exposing myself to unnecessary danger. The future loomed ahead, uncertain and daunting, but every lesson learned and skill honed brought me closer to readiness.

Despite my fears, I couldn't deny the growing excitement that accompanied my progress. There was a strange, almost exhilarating sense of purpose driving me forward. Whatever challenges the Nasuverse had in store, I would meet them head-on, armed with everything I had learned and everything I would yet master.

This was only the beginning of my journey, and I intended to ensure it would be a journey worth following.