"Today we will review the hand seals," Fujimoto-sensei explained, accurately tracing the twelve basic seals on the board. "Ne, Ushi, Tora, U, Tatsu, Mi, Uma, Hitsuji, Saru, Tori, Inu, I."
White chalk left precise marks as he continued his explanation. "Each seal affects the chakra flow differently. As we have seen, Tora is often used in offensive techniques, while Mi is common in defensive techniques."
"Now," Fujimoto slowly formed the Mi seal, "we will practice a basic defensive technique: Suiton: Suijinheki."
The class moved to the training courtyard, where several pools of water had been prepared. The students arranged themselves in rows, watching carefully as Fujimoto performed the sequence: Mi - Hitsuji - Tora. A thin wall of water rose from the pool, crystal clear and stable.
"This is the most basic version," he explained. "A simple but effective defense."
As the students practiced, the natural differences between them became apparent. Hiroshi, thanks to his Hōzuki nature, manipulated water with innate ease. Yukiko had to concentrate to keep her small wall from showing signs in ice, while Jun'ko seemed more interested in giving artistic shapes to her barrier than in making it functional.
"Concentration," sighed Fujimoto, observing yet another failed attempt by a student.
When Ren's turn came, he executed the seals with studied imprecision, producing an unstable but functional wall of water.
"Discreet, Mizutani," commented Fujimoto. "But work on the speed of the seals."
'Right,' thought Ren, 'I need to improve the speed of execution. The ultimate goal is to be able to execute fast techniques with one hand.'
During the lunch break, he found a quiet corner of the courtyard to practice. He concentrated on the E seal, carefully studying the flow of chakra through his hands.
In the afternoon sparring session, he was matched with Romito Yari, ranked 41st.
"Basic taijutsu only," Fujimoto specified. "No techniques."
Romito showed a decent command of basic movements, but was nowhere near Yukiko's level. 'This is the perfect opportunity to keep a low profile,' Ren thought, deliberately adopting an imprecise and seemingly lucky style.
The sparring ended with a narrow victory for Romito.
"Your taijutsu doesn't seem to be improving like your control, Mizutani," Fujimoto commented. Ren noticed the piercing gaze of Yukiko, who seemed to have caught something out of tune in his performance.
At the end of class, the usual group consisting of Aoi, Jun'ko, Ren and now Shinji gathered to return home. As they walked, Jun'ko was animatedly recounting his latest failed experiment with illusory techniques when they saw Toshiro waiting leaning against a tree.
"Ren," his father called with a smile, "do you have a moment? I'd like to spend some time with you before the next mission."
He took his leave of his friends and followed Toshiro toward the small ramen stand they occasionally frequented. Steam rising from the bowls created a cozy atmosphere as father and son sat next to each other.
"How are things going at the academy?" asked Toshiro, stirring his noodles.
Ren told of his progress, of Aoi and his passion for knowledge, of Jun'ko and his antics that hid a natural talent for genjutsu. As he spoke, he noticed how his father listened to him with particular attention.
"You know," Toshiro said after a moment of reflection, "when you were just born, I wondered what kind of father I would be. The life of a ninja doesn't leave much room for family."
He turned to look at his son, his eyes betraying a slight weariness. "A ninja cannot always do the right thing. Sometimes, for the good of the village, we have to make difficult decisions. But the most important thing is to never lose our humanity."
'I never imagined I would feel this,' Ren thought, feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest. 'In my previous life I never knew my father, and now...'
"I like this," he said suddenly.
"Ramen noodles?" asked Toshiro, raising an eyebrow.
"No," Ren smiled. "Having a father like you."
Toshiro almost choked on his last bite, clearly caught off guard by this display of affection. But when he recovered, a special warmth shone in his eyes.
The mist of Kirigakure enveloped father and son as they walked home, the taste of ramen still on their lips and the shared words resonating in their hearts.