The Hodgepodge Shinobi: A Gacha-Gone-Wrong Adventure

Alex stood in the middle of the Universal Mindscape, bare feet planted on the glowing stone floor that extended infinitely in every direction. The horizon remained blank—no sky, no ceiling—just that weird, comforting ambient glow that somehow wasn't sunlight but still warmed his face.

He cracked his knuckles and bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to shake off the nerves. Across from him stood Master Oogway, serene as ever, his staff tucked under one arm. A few paces away, Aang stretched his arms behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart, his glider-staff leaning against a rock that hadn't existed five seconds ago.

"So," Alex said, trying to sound confident, "I'm ready to learn how to actually fight. Y'know… hit stuff."

Aang smiled. "It's about time."

Master Oogway nodded sagely. "The mind must flow before the fist. But now… the fist must follow."

Alex blinked. "That sounded cool and vague at the same time."

"It's a gift," Oogway said.

Aang stepped forward and took a wide, stable stance. "We're going to start with basic strikes. No jutsu. No chakra. Just your body. You need to understand how to punch without hurting yourself. Then we'll move into stances, pressure, and combinations."

"That sounds like a lot."

"It is," Aang said, already in motion. "But not if you're present."

He struck out slowly—deliberate, controlled. A straight punch from his rear hand, followed by a front jab, then a rising elbow. He flowed like water.

"Copy this," Aang said.

Alex mimicked him: rear-hand punch, front jab, elbow—

"Stop," Oogway said gently. "Again."

Alex tried again. Slower.

"Your weight is wrong," Aang said. "You're leaning forward. Let your hips do the work. Rotate. Don't throw your arm—launch it."

Alex gritted his teeth and adjusted his feet, feeling the way his hips connected to his balance. He twisted, punched, and—

Smack.

He hit the air. It didn't feel like much.

"Better," Aang nodded. "Now again. One hundred times."

"One—hundred?!"

"It's not that bad," Aang said. "I did ten thousand air kicks a day when I was nine."

"I… worked in a cubicle."

"And now you're learning. Go."

Fifty punches later…

Alex's shoulders were burning. He was sweating, despite the lack of real heat in this dimension. His form was sloppy, but less sloppy than before. Every time he lost focus, Oogway rapped the ground with his staff—not scolding, just reminding him to breathe.

"Focus on your center," Oogway said. "The strike is not from the hand. It is from your intent."

Aang appeared beside Alex. "Want to try on a target?"

Alex's eyes lit up. "Yes. Please. I want to actually hit something."

With a sweeping motion, Aang summoned a sandbag from the ground. It rose like a geyser, coalescing into a human-shaped dummy made of earth, packed firm but not unbreakable.

Alex approached it like it might explode.

"Same combo," Aang instructed. "Rear hand, front jab, rising elbow. Keep your weight balanced. And breathe."

Alex exhaled slowly, then struck.

Thud. The first punch connected. A dull impact—but his wrist didn't fold this time.

He jabbed—Thud. Then raised the elbow.

Smack.

A crack formed in the dummy's shoulder.

Alex staggered back, blinking. "Wait. That actually worked."

Aang grinned. "That's what good form does."

System ding.

New Skill Acquired: "Basic Unarmed Combat – Level 1"

Strikes calibrated for human-level durability. User can now deliver and withstand beginner-level melee exchanges.

Alex pumped his fist. "Let's gooo!"

"Again," Oogway said.

"What—come on, I just got that one right—"

"Again," the turtle repeated.

Later…

They shifted styles.

Aang demonstrated footwork from airbender combat—wide, reactive, mobile.

"Don't root yourself," he said. "You're not a tank. You're a breeze. Let your feet glide. Hit. Move. Hit again."

Alex followed him in circles, shuffling, spinning, sliding around imaginary enemies. It felt ridiculous—until he realized how easy it was to reposition behind the dummy and strike from another angle.

Then came Oogway's contribution.

He brought out circular movements—palm strikes, redirection, rotations.

"Where Aang moves around," Oogway explained, "you must also move through. A foe's strength is their weakness. Absorb their energy… then return it."

They sparred.

Aang went easy on him, of course—but not that easy.

The air around the boy shifted with each step. A swipe of Aang's hand sent Alex off balance until he learned to plant his foot and flow with it. A spin-kick made him duck, but he rolled with it and struck the earth dummy from the side.

He was learning to move, to strike, to think.

To fight.

System ping.

Synapse Spark Triggered:

Fusion: Physical Exhaustion + Muscle Memory + Desire to Not Embarrass Self

Result: New Passive Trait – "Momentum Retention"

You now retain minor kinetic energy between moves. Faster follow-ups. Less internal screaming.

Alex wheezed and grinned. "That's… kind of awesome."

"You are improving," Oogway said.

"Slowly," Aang added.

"But surely."

Hours passed—or maybe it was seconds in real time. Hard to tell.

Alex collapsed onto the glowing ground, arms flopped out, body aching in places he didn't know existed.

"I've been kicked… I've kicked… I've punched rocks. I've punched air. I've been flipped twice. Is this what being a ninja is?"

"No," Aang said, smiling. "This is what becoming yourself is."

Alex groaned. "Do I at least get ramen after this?"

System pinged again.

Ramen is currently 78% of your remaining motivation. Consider reward-based training.

He laughed, eyes closed.

This time, when he exhaled, it felt earned.

And in the distance, the Universal Mindscape shimmered—awaiting his next move.

-----

Too slowly pacing?