It had been a year since Ryuji had moved on from the death of his father. The pain had dulled, though it still lingered deep in his chest, surfacing when he least expected it. He wasn't that same lost and broken kid who cried himself to sleep after hearing the news. No. He had grown. He had hardened. This world had no place for weakness, and if his father taught him anything, it was that. That's why he trained. Every. Single. Day. Like a goddamn lunatic.
"Shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His father's legacy was what pushed him forward, a constant reminder of what he had to live up to. The man had left him two A-rank jutsu, techniques so powerful they'd tear anyone who underestimated him to pieces. He'd practiced those until his chakra reserves nearly bottomed out. The Fire Release: Dragon Flame Release Song Technique was pure devastation, the kind of jutsu that would leave an enemy scorched and running for their lives. The Water Severing Wave? That thing was even more terrifying. A concentrated stream of water so sharp it could cut through trees like they were made of wet paper.
But that wasn't enough. It could never be enough. He needed more. That's why he pushed himself to learn every single jutsu his father left behind. He memorized the seals, perfected the form, and damn near burned his own lungs trying to master the Wind Release: Vacuum Wave. It was a bitch of a technique. A simple breath would unleash a spinning blade of compressed air sharp enough to split flesh and bone. The first time he used it, it carved a tree in half. The second time, it nearly took his arm off when his control slipped. He chuckled at the thought now, shaking his head.
"Fuckin' amateur," he scoffed to himself.
He wasn't just focusing on big, flashy jutsu either. No, Ryuji had learned to appreciate the subtler, more practical techniques. Shadow Clone Jutsu—that one was a game-changer. It wasn't just a means to fight; it was a tool for training. Hell, he used it daily to practice multiple jutsu at once. While one clone worked on perfecting Body Flicker Technique—a technique he'd been pushing to Shisui-level speed—the other would practice throwing kunai or honing his swordsmanship. Efficiency was everything. He wanted power, and he wanted it fast.
The basics? Easy. Clone Technique? Mastered. Transformation? A joke. Substitution? He could swap out with a log in his sleep now. But those weren't the skills that would make him stand out. He wanted more, craved more, so he poured himself into the techniques his father had left, but he didn't stop there. Ryuji had his own goals—his own ambitions.
The Body Flicker Technique was special to him. His obsession with speed was growing, and he wouldn't rest until he mastered it to the point where he could move faster than anyone else in this damn village. Shisui was the pinnacle in that regard, a legend. Ryuji wasn't trying to imitate him. He was trying to surpass him. He trained in secret, pushing his body to its limits, sometimes collapsing from chakra exhaustion. It was painful, brutal even, but he didn't care. Every time he got faster, every time his Body Flicker took him further in less time, he knew he was getting closer to his goal.
That was another thing he had realized during the year: he wasn't weak. Far from it. In fact, when he compared himself to the average Genin in the village, he was probably stronger than most of them already. He had a lot to thank his father for, but Ryuji knew his own drive had gotten him here. His progress had been insane, but it came with a price. His attitude? It had shifted. He didn't care about making friends, didn't give a damn about being liked. In his mind, everyone around him was just another stepping stone, another obstacle to get past.
"I'm not here to play games," he'd often mutter to himself while training.
That arrogance had grown alongside his strength. He wasn't the humble kid he had been when he first arrived. After losing his father and training himself to the bone for an entire year, he had become cocky, maybe even a little too much. Sometimes he caught himself smirking when he saw Genin training in the open grounds, struggling to master simple techniques. He'd already mastered most of what they were working on and more.
His father's estate had left him more than just jutsu. The man had saved up a ridiculous amount of money, enough to let Ryuji live comfortably for years. Not that he cared about that much. It was convenient, sure, but money wasn't what drove him. Power was. However, the cash did make things easier.