The searing pain in his hand woke Ren before dawn. The healing chakra had accelerated the healing, but it hadn't been enough for complete regeneration. He removed the bandage with clinical care, examining the damage in the dim morning light.
The skin had regenerated but the fingerprints of his right hand were gone, erased by the brief contact with the hot metal. A permanent scar, a reminder of a moment of carelessness.
During his morning routine, the lake seemed more hostile than usual. The twenty kilograms of weight pressed on his muscles with an insistence he couldn't ignore. His body was sending out clear signals of overtraining.
'Soldier's pills,' he mused as he laboriously completed the last set of exercises. 'in Naruto there was some energy supplements specifically for ninja. Aoi might know something about them, with his medical background.'
He decided to skip jutsu training. His healing chakra had already consumed some of his reserves, and forcing the system further would only make the situation worse.
'I must ask Fujimoto if he has found someone to guide me, I haven't heard from him…' he considered as he walked home. 'But insisting could be counterproductive. Better to wait a little longer.'
In the lab, he took out the protective seal given to him by Tatsumi. The traditional pattern revealed a rigorous geometric structure, in stark contrast to the organic curves of his design.
'The traditional seal works through direct opposition,' he noted in his notebook.
'Mine naturally deviates. But if I combine the two approaches…' He began to draw new patterns, incorporating elements of both designs.
Studying the tomes on fuinjutsu revealed advanced principles of energy stabilization. He methodically wrote down each new concept, gradually building a deeper understanding of the art.
When the sun reached its zenith, it was time to visit Takeshi's forge. The swords awaited him, and with them new possibilities for progress—if he had learned from yesterday's lesson.
The forge was unusually quiet when Ren arrived. In the courtyard, Kurara was performing a series of kata with the kusarigama, the chain that traced deadly arcs through the humid air.
"Granpa is out on an errand," she said without pausing her movements. "He should be back this afternoon."
Her offer of sparring was immediate, but Ren declined, showing her bandaged hand. In response, Kurara nodded and resumed her practice.
Her movements were precise, a deadly dance of metal and determination. But as he watched her, Ren noticed a peculiar pattern—in all their encounters, he had never seen her perform a single jutsu. She relied solely on taijutsu and weapons.
"You never use ninja techniques," he observed. It wasn't a question.
The kusarigama chain stopped in midair. Kurara stood still, her breathing creating small clouds in the morning chill.
"My chakra..." she began, then trailed off, searching for words. "It's like a river flowing the wrong way. I can feel it, but I can't shape it correctly."
"But the exams..."
"I made up for it with taijutsu and weapons. Just the bare minimum of chakra to pass. I was lucky in the demonstration exam - Substitution no Jutsu is the only one I can perform, even though it requires immense concentration." A bitter smile curled her lips.
Her fingers gently caressed the metal of the hilt. "But with weapons... it's different. It's like the metal understands something inside me that even I don't fully understand. It responds to my touch in ways I can't explain."
Ren absorbed the information, his clinical gaze noting the small details—how her grip on the kusarigama had tightened slightly, how her posture betrayed a tension beyond simple training. "And no doctor has ever—"
"Grandpa says it's no use," Kurara interrupted, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "He says some people are like certain rare metals—they can't be forged in conventional ways, but that makes them all the more valuable."
For a moment, the clanking of the chain mingled with the silence, creating an odd harmony with the breathing of the mist.
"The swords will be ready in the afternoon," Kurara said finally, squaring her shoulders and returning to her usual matter-of-fact stance. "Come back later, when Grandfather is here." Her voice had regained its usual firmness, but something unsaid hung in the humid air of the courtyard.
On the way back, Ren's mind methodically analyzed Kurara's condition. The parallel to Rock Lee was obvious - a ninja compensating for his limitations through extreme specialization. But there was something different about her situation, something more fundamental.
It was then, that he felt it - a subtle change in the density of the air. The outlines of the buildings began to distort, like heat waves on hot metal. His heart began to race, his breathing labored, the fog, usually a familiar element, taking on an alien, hostile quality.
'Genjutsu,' he realized, his body already in motion as his chakra reacted instinctively. The distortion intensified, reality folding in on itself in impossible patterns. Every point of reference became unreliable, gravity itself seeming to fluctuate.
A presence manifested in the mist - not fully visible, but undeniably present. The air itself seemed to crackle with malevolent intent.
The illusion tightened around him like an iron grip.