The next morning, the sun rose sluggishly through the haze as the metallic sound of hammers echoed in the forge. When Ren arrived, he found Kurara and her grandfather, Takeshi, busy preparing crates of tools and materials. The forge was alive with activity, the heat from the embers making the air even heavier.
"What's going on?" Ren asked, stepping closer.
Kurara turned, her face marked by a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "We're leaving. My grandfather has been called along with other blacksmiths to build a bridge in a nearby village. It'll expand Kirigakure's trade routes."
Ren hesitated. "And the academy? What about your studies?"
Kurara paused, her hands gripping a box of tools. "Helping my grandfather is more important," she said calmly. Then, with a bitter smile, she added, "In any case, I would've had to stop eventually. I can't manipulate chakra properly. It was inevitable."
Her words hit Ren like a punch. What a waste, he thought at first, recalling Rock Lee and his determination to overcome his inability to use chakra. After a moment, Ren took a deep breath and stepped closer to Kurara.
"You know, a real ninja never gives up," he said, thinking ironically of Naruto's famous "Talk Jutsu." "There are other ways to become strong. You don't have to give up."
Kurara held his gaze for a long moment, her eyes searching for something in his. Finally, she gave a small nod, letting silence speak for her.
The moment was interrupted by Takeshi, who called them over to load another crate. Takeshi, who had quietly overheard their conversation, gave a faint smile but said nothing. Ren stayed to help, and as he was lifting the boxes, Takeshi approached him with a loud laugh.
"Boy, don't think your strength is enough for this job! These tools are tougher than you!" Takeshi boomed as he tried to lift a crate too heavy for him. The box slipped from his hands, spilling a pile of tools onto the floor. "Oops! Well, there's some work for you!" he exclaimed with unrestrained laughter, showing no embarrassment. Ren looked at him for a moment before joining in the laughter.
Despite the humor, Kurara's words lingered in Ren's mind. On his way home, he reflected again, not so much on what might be lost but on how someone could be helped not to give up entirely.
The next day, Ren met up with Aoi, Jun'ko, Shinji, and Yukiko for training. Between sparring sessions, Shinji managed, as always, to provoke laughter, even turning a simple exchange of blows into a comedy sketch. At one point, while trying to imitate a kunai bouncing, he tripped clumsily, knocking over a bucket of water near Jun'ko, who dodged it just in time.
"Shinji, are you okay?" Aoi asked, struggling to suppress a smile.
"I'm just testing my balance," Shinji replied theatrically as he stood up, soaking wet but with a proud expression. This time, even Yukiko let a faint smile escape.
"Come on, Ren," Jun'ko said, tossing him a wooden kunai with precision. "Show us how you do those precise moves you're so good at."
Ren, with a more reserved expression than his friends, accepted the challenge. As they trained, he performed his movements with precision, but occasionally his gaze drifted beyond the training field. Yukiko, noticing his distraction, approached him quietly during a break.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ren nodded, but his reply came only after a moment. "Yes, I'm fine. Just... thinking."
In a dark cave, the atmosphere was thick and tense. Obito, his face concealed by his mask, stood before Zetsu, the eerie figure emerging from the shadows of the stone.
"It's a problem," Zetsu said, his voice a slippery whisper. "Fujino's words have had no effect on Yagura. You need to intervene."
Obito remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on an undefined point in the cave. Then, he nodded slowly.
"If the council can't control him, then I will," he said, his voice low and heavy with determination. "It's only a matter of time."
The shadows seemed to close in around him as he plotted his next move.
Later that afternoon, Ren found himself immersed in his laboratory, his pocketbook open beside him. Next to complex diagrams, he jotted down keywords like "pain killer" and "adrenaline synthesis." His notes were precise, with arrows linking ingredients, methods, and potential applications.
He glanced up for a moment, observing the light flow of liquid in a glass cylinder. His work was still experimental, but the process kept him focused. Taking a deep breath, he returned to writing, adding new ideas to refine the accuracy of his compounds. The window beside him was open, letting in the cool evening air as the dim light of the lantern illuminated his scattered notes.