Days passed, and Ren settled into a leisurely yet repetitive routine.
Wake up. Go to the Academy. Bully Mikoto. Return home. Train. Sleep. Repeat.
Two months went by in this cycle, uneventful yet oddly peaceful. Life in Konoha seemed calm on the surface, but if one looked closely, something was off.
Patrol units of the Konoha Military Police Force were increasingly visible on the streets. And those easy-going, always-chatting Jōnin who used to hang around dango shops or ramen stalls? Vanished.
"The Second Great Ninja War must be looming," Ren muttered one morning, casually walking to class with his hands in his pockets and a half-smirk on his face.
And he wasn't wrong.
Over a month ago, the top brass of Konoha—Hiruzen Sarutobi, Danzo Shimura, Homura Mitokado, and Koharu Utatane—quietly formed a consensus. With Orochimaru leading, and Tsunade and Jiraiya as vice-commanders, they deployed thirty elite Jōnin to the Wind Country to investigate Sunagakure's movements.
The Land of Wind had been eerily silent. But should they make a move, Konoha had to be ready to respond—not just against Sunagakure, but against the other major villages: Kirigakure, Iwagakure, and Kumogakure. After all, Konoha emerged as the biggest winner of the First Great Ninja War. Its spoils—territorial gains, abundant resources, and diplomatic leverage—naturally bred resentment. The other four hidden villages were watching… and waiting.
But all of that had little to do with Ren—at least, for now.
At this moment, the only battlefield in his mind was the daily playground showdown with Uchiha Mikoto. And just the thought of her flustered, crimson cheeks made him grin uncontrollably.
Ah, the joy of messing with a cute little Loli. Life's simple pleasures.
Ren swore he wasn't a Loli-con. No, absolutely not. He was a certified beauty-con! Whether it was a sultry Onee-san, a commanding Queen, a tragic yandere Princess, or a doe-eyed Loli—Ren appreciated beauty in all its divine forms!
Unfortunately, ever since Tsunade left Konoha on assignment, things felt a bit duller. Danzo had also retracted the Root agents that usually shadowed Ren from the shadows.
Thinking of Danzo's blunt message that day, Ren clicked his tongue.
"Konoha's in a precarious state. I'm pulling back Root operatives for now. Once Tsunade returns, I'll reassign protection detail to you."
Yeah, right.
Danzo and his games. Everyone knew Root was only deployed when things hit critical. What am I, a fool?
Even if he didn't like it, Ren didn't argue with the old war hawk. He understood Danzo's intention. With no more babysitters, Ren would be forced to hone his own survival instincts. No more relying on shadowy guardians. No safety net.
But still...
"If Tsunade hadn't left for the Land of Wind, I'd probably still be playing cat-and-mouse with her every other day."
A sly smirk appeared on his lips. Honestly, the woman was scary… and sexy.
Now that she was gone, Ren threw himself into training. Hardcore.
He hadn't yet broken through to the Chūnin level, but after some real sparring with Danzo—an experience that left him both humbled and slightly traumatized—his Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, and chakra control saw noticeable improvement.
Perhaps it was due to the soul transmigration from his previous life, but Ren's spiritual power was abnormally strong—about three times that of an average Genin. And with age and discipline, it only kept growing.
In the Naruto world, spiritual power mattered. A lot. It dictated chakra control, chakra refinement, even resistance to genjutsu. Thanks to that spiritual edge, Ren was able to make a major breakthrough this month:
Second nature transformation.
This was something usually reserved for Jōnin-level shinobi. But Ren? He was naturally talented in two chakra natures.
From his father, Danzo, he inherited the Wind Release. From his late mother—whom he barely remembered—he received Lightning Release.
Danzo himself was a pure Wind Release user and had no affinity with Lightning Style. So, for Ren's sake, he did something completely out of character. He swallowed his pride and personally requested help from none other than:
Hatake Sakumo—The White Fang of Konoha. ANBU Commander. Konoha's strongest Lightning Style user.
Fortunately, despite the rising tensions with Sunagakure, the war hadn't officially broken out yet. Sakumo, though busy with ANBU operations, still maintained a regular schedule. He agreed to take Ren under his wing for nightly training sessions after 6 p.m.
"I wonder how Minato and Shikaku are doing…" Ren mused.
After that day at the training ground, they seemed to click. Even yesterday, when Chōza threw a birthday party, he invited both Minato and Mikoto for barbecue. Ren wanted to go. He really did.
But Lightning Style wasn't going to master itself. Every day after class, Ren sprinted home, wolfed down a meal in 10 minutes, and rushed to Sakumo's residence for training.
Sakumo-sensei was merciless. One time, Ren was late by ten minutes because of diarrhea. The result?
"I don't want to talk about it… Let's just say, Hatake Sakumo… I'll raise your son right in the future. Consider it my revenge plan. A gentleman's revenge may take ten years... or one poorly timed diaper incident."
And Danzo?
Ren clenched his fists just thinking about that cryptic old fossil.
The man had embarrassed him in front of Mikoto just because Ren had roasted him a bit in public.
"It's not like I'm chasing Mikoto for fun. I'm trying to create a bond for the Shimura clan's future, dammit! Even though… sigh… I'm still just a kid with no shot."
Lost in his thoughts, Ren walked through the familiar path toward the Academy. Then it hit him.
A chill crawled down his spine like an icy serpent.
Ren froze mid-step.
Danger.
His instincts screamed.
Incoming.
Three kunai. Whistling through the air. From three different directions.
No time for chakra flow. No time for Body Replacement Technique. No time to dodge properly.
They were aiming to kill.
Head. Heart. Spine.
Lethal points.
Ren's eyes widened.
"These bastards…! In the middle of Konoha?!"
With a twist of his body mid-air, Ren spun like a butterfly caught in the rain, both hands sweeping outward in a sweeping arc. It wasn't a technique—it was instinct and desperation honed from training.
Two kunai sliced past his limbs. One grazed his neck.
Blood spilled.
Ren landed with a crouch, body trembling—not from fear, but from boiling anger.
"Cowards hiding in the dark! Show yourselves!"
He stood tall, ignoring the sting of blood dripping from his right forearm, left thigh, and neck. His black eyes glowed with fury.
Somewhere in the shadows, three masked attackers—clearly not regular shinobi—shifted position. They weren't ANBU. Their chakra signatures were unfamiliar. Mercenaries? Root deserters? Foreign agents?
Whatever they were, they had just made a fatal mistake.
.