The sunset light filtered through the window of his room, painting elongated shadows on the floor.
Ren, sitting in the lotus position, opened a containment scroll with measured movements. In a cloud of smoke, a notebook with a worn cover emerged, its yellowed pages filled with meticulous notes and detailed diagrams.
With expert fingers, he began his usual ritual of reviewing and planning. Black ink traced precise lines on the paper, as he catalogued and analyzed each technique with the precision of a surgeon:
'Henge no Jutsu, mastered,' he noted, allowing himself a thin smile at the memory of his "imperfect" demonstrations in class.
'Kawarimi no Jutsu mastered in its fundamentals, but the chakra strand technique still needs refinement.'
He paused to add a new insight: 'I could develop a seal that I could imprint on my weapons and objects, creating a tracking system that would allow me to locate them nearby. Especially useful if I lost my weapon in combat... I must consult Tatsumi-sensei on the feasibility.'
He paused his pen over the paper, visualizing the possibilities.
'Also, chakra strands could be enhanced by creating specific anchor points. A miniaturized seal could act as a "hook" for the strands, making them easier to detect and catch. By strategically applying it to kunai and other throwing weapons, I could create a network of pre-prepared replacement points. The key will be developing a seal small enough to go unnoticed but powerful enough to act as an anchor for the chakra.'
He sketched out a quick sketch of what he envisioned the seal to be: a circular design no larger than a thumbnail, with concentric patterns vaguely reminiscent of ripples in water.
'Perhaps,' he noted beside the drawing, 'the same fluidity that governs the water element could be applied here. Chakra should flow naturally to these anchor points, like water finding its level.'
He paused to contemplate again, scenarios and strategies unfolding in his mind. The Kawarimi could evolve beyond its defensive nature, becoming a tool for strategic positioning and surprise. The applications were limited only by his imagination.
Turning to water techniques, his gaze became more analytical. 'Suiton: Mizurappa - theoretically understood but yet to be tested. The modulation of water pressure offers versatility: from a concentrated jet to penetrate defenses to a broad wave for field control.'
He paused, thinking. 'Water techniques have never particularly inspired me, but if the Second Hokage made them his trademark, there must be a deeper reason. Perhaps the secret lies in advanced applications...'
'Suiton: Suijinheki...' A flash of inspiration struck him as he wrote. The water from the wall could be quickly converted into projectiles or used to amplify genjutsu through refraction.'
But there was more.
'Wait!' His mind began to race.
'The Second Hokage was not only a master of the water element, but also a formidable SealMaster. Could there be an intrinsic connection between the two disciplines?'
His thoughts returned to his lessons with Tatsumi-sensei, to all those times he had spoken to him about "fluid" movements in the calligraphy of seals. Like drops of water, each element began to flow into a larger picture.
'A potentially revolutionary discovery,' he murmured, feverishly noting: 'Deriving the similarities between the principles of the water element and the theory of seals.'
He turned the page, revealing a section dedicated to chakra control. The basic exercises were routine, but new possibilities were opening up. With surgical precision, he drew a diagram of the chakra circulatory system, highlighting the critical points for applying the chakra scalpel.
'The healing chakra,' he wrote with the expertise of someone who had studied medicine in another life, 'can be refined into a lethal instrument, following the principle Kabuto demonstrated against Naruto and Tsunade. The key will be micrometric control: not brutal cuts, but precise surgical incisions, capable of severing ligaments and tendons without leaving visible traces.'
He paused, contemplating the irony of the situation. The same hands he had dreamed of using to heal were now learning to wound with clinical precision. It was a strange evolution of the Hippocratic Oath, he thought with a bitter smile.
He drew a new diagram, this time of his ideal combat system:
'First phase: Evaluation
-Using chakra perception to map the environment
-Understanding the opponent's movement patterns
Second Phase: Manipulation
- Kenjutsu as a primary fighting art
-Water techniques for field control and diversion
-Henge and Kawarimi in support to create opportunities
Final Phase: Termination
-Chakra scalpels for precise and lethal strikes
-Speed techniques to instantly close distances'
He paused, adding notes on the points to develop: 'I can't increase the load weights for training anymore or it would harm my development as I still have the body of a five-year-old child...'
Still thinking: 'If I remember correctly a good speed technique was the Body Flicker, Shisui's specialization, I will have to look into that technique, if I'm not mistaken they should use the Mist Body flicker here. It will be essential for mobility, but it will require perfect chakra control.'
'The key will be the economy of movement,' he noted. 'Every action must have multiple purposes. A single movement of the sword must be both attack and defense, both distraction and preparation for the next strike.'
He closed his notebook with a firm movement, the smell of dinner wafting into the room. He placed it back in its holding scroll, letting his plans settle in his mind like ink on paper.
As he descended the stairs, each step an exercise in control and silence, Ren thought back to the progression of his training. It wasn't just a matter of mastering techniques, but of forging a style that blended the precision of a surgeon with the lethality of an assassin.
The kitchen was warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the fog gathering outside the windows. Yuki was arranging bowls of rice on the table, while Toshiro helped serve the miso soup, the steam rising in fragrant spirals.
"I thought I smelled ink," his mother said with a smile as Ren sat down in his usual spot. "Were you studying?"
"Taking notes," Ren said vaguely, accepting the bowl of rice his father handed him.
"Speaking of studying," Toshiro blew on his soup before tasting it, "I ran into Kaito-san at the hospital today. He told me his son is always talking about your talent for healing chakra."
"Aoi talks too much," Ren muttered, feeling strangely embarrassed.
"Like his father..." Yuki commented with a nostalgic smile, handing Toshiro the pickled vegetables. "Remember when we were at the academy? He never stopped explaining the chemical composition of everything."
"And you always listened to him with that patient face," Toshiro teased, "even though you were probably thinking about how to sharpen your kunai."
"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Yuki gave him an amused look. "After all, you ended up buying all your weapons from my father's shop."
"The weapons were just an excuse," Toshiro winked, making his wife blush slightly.
Ren watched this exchange with a mixture of amusement and wonder. It was still strange to him, this familiarity, this domestic warmth. In his previous life, meals had been solitary events, often hastily consumed while studying.
"Ren, do you want more fish?" his mother asked, noticing his empty bowl.
"Yes, please," he replied, surprised at how naturally he now accepted this motherly attention.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Toshiro said between bites. "I found that book of basic kata you were looking for. It was at the bottom of a shelf in the weapons storage room."
"Really?" Ren's eyes lit up with genuine interest.
"Hmm," his father nodded. "It has some interesting diagrams on posture. Remember that problem you were having with the third kata? I think this might help."
"Speaking of help," Yuki interjected, her voice studiedly casual, "we're having a big delivery of ninja gear tomorrow. Could you give me a hand at the shop after the academy, Ren?"
"Of course," he replied, noting how his mother had deftly avoided mentioning the type of equipment. The special deliveries often meant military supplies, a subtle reminder of the reality around them.
"And maybe," she added with a smile that tried to lighten the mood, "we could take a detour to the dango vendor on the way back."
The conversation continued, jumping from topic to topic with apparent ease—the latest news from the village, progress at the academy, even a discussion of Yuki's secret recipe for miso soup. The familiarity of these moments had something surreal to Ren, like an island of normalcy in a sea of uncertainty.
He watched his parents with clinical attention, noting the little signs that betrayed their concern: a pause that was too long between sentences, a gaze that wandered off into space, fingers that drummed absentmindedly on the edge of the table.
Toshiro recounted anecdotes from the academy with an enthusiasm that seemed almost forced, while Yuki filled the silences with questions about the school day, receiving studiously vague answers.
'This is what it means to have a family,' Ren mused, watching his parents continue to maintain this fragile normalcy. An unexpected warmth spread through his chest, mixed with an ever-stronger determination to protect these moments.
That night, lying in his bed, Ren's thoughts oscillated between the warmth of the family dinner and the coldness of his plans. He watched the fluid movements of the sword blend with the precision of the chakra scalpel, each piece fitting together like a deadly clockwork.
'After all,' he thought as sleep claimed him, 'it's not so different from surgery. Only now I'm learning not to repair, but to disassemble - with the same precision, the same attention to detail... and the same emotional distance.' A bitter smile curled his lips. His previous life had taught him to save lives; this one to protect them, even if it meant breaking others.