Renkai adjusted his grip on the kunai, feeling the familiar weight settle in his palm as he crouched at the edge of the training field. The morning sun filtered through the leaves above, casting dappled shadows across the ground. His breathing was steady, controlled. Every movement felt sharper—his body finally catching up to the level of his mind.


    Months of proper meals, real sleep, and relentless training had reshaped him. The malnourished frame he had once carried was gone. His reflexes were quicker, his endurance better. Even his face had lost the sharpness of childhood, taking on a more defined look.


    Not that he’d bring it up.


    Especially not with Rika, who had been insufferable about it.


    Perched on a low branch above him, she grinned down with an infuriatingly smug expression.


    “You know,” she mused, swinging her legs, “if you keep this up, you’re actually gonna be not half-bad looking.”


    Renkai didn’t glance up. “That’s an oddly specific observation.”


    “I’m just saying,” she continued, ignoring his dry tone. “Couple more centuries, and the girls in the village might start noticing you. Maybe you’ll even get fan letters.”


    He sighed, sealing away a kunai in his wrist storage seal. “That sounds like a waste of paper.”


    Rika burst into laughter, nearly slipping off the branch. “See, this is why you’re hopeless. Not a single romantic bone in your body.”


    Renkai glanced up. “What does that have to do with training?”


    “Absolutely nothing.” She smirked. “But it’s fun watching you struggle with the concept.”


    He shook his head, but a small part of him was… weirded out by the thought, given his mental age.


    His mind drifted back to his own self-evaluation. His fūinjutsu had improved immensely—seals now activated faster, with greater efficiency and impact. His Lightning Release and chakra thread manipulation had become more refined, allowing for mid-air trajectory shifts and increased attack speed. His barrier technique had been modified to reduce chakra waste, deploying only when necessary.


    Today was the perfect time to test it all.


    The Academy training grounds hummed with anticipation as the next fight was called. Students gathered around the sparring ring, their hushed murmurs filling the air with excitement.


    Renkai stood at the edge of the ring, his expression unreadable, rolling his shoulders as he sized up his opponent.


    Shimura Daichi.


    A clan heir.


    Unlike some of the louder, flashier students, Daichi carried himself with measured confidence. He wasn’t an Uchiha or a Hyūga, but his skill set was refined. The Shimura clan specialized in strategic warfare and relentless pressure combat—and Daichi embodied those principles with his near-perfect projectile accuracy and mid-range Fire Release techniques.


    Renkai knew exactly what kind of fight this was going to be.


    Daichi exhaled as he stepped forward, rolling his wrists. His expression was calm but sharp. “You’ve been making quite the name for yourself,” he said, voice smooth. “Let’s see if it’s deserved.”


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Renkai said nothing. He simply raised his hands, fingers lightly brushing the kunai holsters at his sides.


    From the sidelines, Rika grinned. “I wonder how this will go.”


    Shigeru crossed his arms. “Daichi’s a specialist. If Renkai’s not careful, he’ll get overwhelmed.”


    Rika smirked. “Yeah? And if Daichi’s not careful, he’ll get outplayed.”


    Takeda Genji, their instructor, raised his hand.


    “Begin.”


    Daichi moved first.


    His hands flicked, sending three kunai flying in perfect arcs, each one aimed to limit Renkai’s movement. Not a single wasted motion.


    Renkai dodged, pivoting at the last second—just as a fourth kunai came from below, bouncing off another kunai in a ricochet trajectory.


    Ah. That’s how he fights.


    Daichi didn’t just throw weapons—he manipulated their paths, using angles, terrain, and timing to overwhelm opponents.


    But Renkai wasn’t an easy target.


    Instead of dodging wildly, he stepped into the narrowest opening, avoiding only what was necessary. His fingers twitched—chakra threads snapped to life, latching onto the thrown kunai.


    A yank.


    The kunai Daichi had thrown reversed course, whipping back toward him.


    Daichi tilted his head, barely dodging.


    “Not bad.” His hands blurred. “But not good enough.”


    Fire Release: Ember Scatter!


    A burst of mid-sized flame projectiles ignited in midair, chasing Renkai like homing missiles.


    Tracking projectiles? That’s a problem.


    Instead of trying to outrun them, Renkai reacted—throwing kunai upward and pulsing lightning chakra through them. The moment his kunai met the flames—they detonated mid-air, disrupting Daichi’s jutsu.


    The watching students murmured.


    “Whoa, did he just—”


    “—use his own kunai and chakra nature to disarm a Fire Release jutsu?”


    Daichi’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted slightly. A hint of caution.


    Perfect.


    Renkai kept stepping back.


    Letting Daichi press forward, forcing him to attack again and again.


    To an outside observer, it looked like he was on the defensive, barely keeping up with Daichi’s relentless assault. Ducking, weaving, deflecting—just surviving.


    But that was the point.


    Every dodge was deliberate. Every movement was calculated.


    Daichi was too focused on his aggression to notice what was really happening.


    He was being herded.


    Step by step, strike by strike—Renkai was dictating the battlefield without Daichi realizing it.


    Finally, the moment came.


    Daichi dashed forward, preparing another kunai strike—


    And his foot landed near one of Renkai’s thrown kunai from earlier.


    The trap activated instantly.


    A chakra pulse erupted beneath him—not an explosion, but a disruption field. His movement faltered for a second.


    A second was a huge time gap in a fight.


    Threads snapped taut.


    Daichi’s eyes widened. “What—?!”


    He wasn’t just being slowed—he was surrounded.


    Four kunai, already placed around the battlefield, suddenly jerked toward him at impossible angles—all controlled by Renkai’s chakra threads.


    A death zone.


    Daichi reacted on instinct—twisting, barely dodging one kunai while blocking another—


    But the third grazed his leg.


    The fourth sliced across his forehead, leaving a thin red line.


    The entire match had turned in an instant.


    Daichi stumbled back, panting slightly.


    “…You were leading me into that the whole time, weren’t you?”


    Renkai finally spoke. “From the first kunai you threw.”


    Daichi chuckled, shaking his head. “Damn. You’re a worthy opponent.”


    But before he could fully regain his footing—


    Renkai moved.


    In an instant, he shot forward, faster than ever before.


    A flick of his wrist—multiple kunai launched into the air.


    Daichi reacted immediately, dodging the first wave with great effort—only to be met with the second wave.


    Before he could process it—


    Renkai was already behind him.


    A sharp push to the back—a fūinjutsu seal imprinted onto his skin.


    Chakra disruption.


    The kunai suspended mid-air—


    Inches from every major critical point on Daichi’s body.


    Silence.


    Takeda Genji raised a hand.


    “Winner: Renkai.”


    Renkai stepped out of the ring with a confident smile on his face.


    From the sidelines, Rika leaned forward, grinning. “Well, well. As always, you really are a pain in the ass to fight.”


    Shigeru exhaled. “He didn’t just win. He controlled the entire fight.”


    Rika nudged him. “Told you.”


    Daichi walked over, shaking out his wrist. “You ever fight fair?”


    Renkai glanced at him. “Do shinobi ever do?”


    Daichi snorted. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”


    For all his bravado, he didn’t seem bitter. If anything, he looked… intrigued.