Each evening Renji returned to his half-ruined house near the Nara forest. Slowly, methodically, he rebuilt it. Broken beams replaced, torn paper doors patched, rotten planks sanded smooth. By the fourth month, the house resembled a quiet refuge rather than a ruin.
Behind it flowed a narrow stream, glistening under the moonlight. This became Renji's true classroom.
Two ANBU masks in the trees, two Root operatives hidden in shadow. At first they concealed themselves, but Renji's Sharingan found them with ease. He made no move to drive them away. Instead, he smirked. Ah, the audience. Good. Watch my growth.
His training was relentless: Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu and Phoenix Sage Fire, flames controlled with surgical precision until they could thread between leaves without burning them. Genjutsu - illusions subtle enough to mask movements, bold enough to terrify. Taijutsu - repetition until his fists split and healed again, body honed to strike without hesitation. Ninja tools - shuriken curving in impossible arcs, kunai thrown to ricochet off trees and strike unseen targets.
The ANBU and the root ninjas were awestruck with such growth and the progress was reported to the Hokage and Danzo repeatedly. Both of them were keeping a tab on each other thus unable to visit Renji to recruit him.
And beyond the village, in the ravine hidden by his shadows, another storm brewed. The four shadow warriors absorbed every stolen scroll. Water clones, earth walls, wood binding, magma bursts — every technique mastered in darkness. They sparred endlessly in their hollowed chambers, their weapons ringing against stone. Then came the revelation: Renji could transfer their mastery into himself as the shadows were part of himself. Every day he returned from the Academy with more power than any child could dream of.
During the same time, an announcement of a friendly competition filled the Academy with excitement. Students buzzed like hornets, boasting and daring. Renji stayed silent, watching from the back row.
On the day of the tournament, the students gathered at the training ground. Dust swirled underfoot, and the teachers supervised with folded arms. Each duel began with the Seal of Confrontation — two hands pressed together in respect. Each duel ended with the Seal of Reconciliation, palms pressed again in peace.
Children cheered as they fought: simple punches, kunai throws, weak jutsu. Then Iruka Sensei hesitated, "Uchiha Renji versus Uchiha Sasuke."
The ground hushed instantly. Two Uchihas, face to face.
Sasuke walked onto the stage with his usual cold pride, arms crossed. Renji followed with calm steps, his face unreadable. They pressed palms in the Seal of Confrontation. Sasuke's eyes flicked with disdain. Renji's gaze was empty, almost mocking.
"Begin."
At first, their exchange was even — taijutsu strikes and kunai clashing against one another. Students gasped at the sight of two Uchiha trading blows. After multiple to an fro, Renji started thinking on how to take advantage of the situation as he was fed up with the academy life and wanted early graduation.
As the clash dragged on, Renji's mind worked faster than his fists. Then clarity struck, sharp as a kunai. If I defeat Sasuke here, in front of everyone, I'll have a valid reason and can demand early graduation. His lips curved into a thin smile, Sharingan spinning faster. Yes… this duel is my ticket out to the real world.
Renji's attacks grew more precise, more threatening. He pressed Sasuke brutally, forcing him back with flawless taijutsu chains and kunai feints. Sasuke countered with shuriken and, with a fierce shout, unleashed Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu of his own. The crowd gasped as flames roared across the field.
Renji laughed quietly and mirrored the technique, his own Great Fireball swallowing Sasuke's in an overwhelming blaze. His Sharingan flashed into its full three tomoe. The sight froze even the teachers.
Steel flashed—Renji's kunai hovered at Sasuke's throat. Gasps broke the silence. The class saw it clearly: Renji could kill him.
But Renji didn't stop. He moved back and his hand moved again, preparing another jutsu, heat gathering at his lips. ANBU appeared instantly, blurring into motion. In a breath, Renji was restrained, kunai clattering to the ground. His Sharingan still blazed as he glared at Sasuke, fury etched into his face.
After a long pause, Renji pressed his palms forward in the Seal of Reconciliation—a mocking gesture—and turned away without a word. The crowd erupted in whispers as he left the grounds.
Renji knew exactly what he'd done - everything would be reported to both the Hokage and Danzo. Good, he thought, let them notice. Let them call me in.
By afternoon, the summons arrived.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi regarded him with the weight of decades behind his eyes. Smoke curled from his pipe as he began the familiar lecture, words of the Will of Fire—the bonds between comrades, the duty to protect the village, the legacy of the Hokage line.
Renji stood silent at first, respectful, but his gaze never softened. When the Hokage finished, Renji spoke in an even tone:
"I've heard your words. But I don't trust anyone. Not my classmates, not my teachers. I've already surpassed them. I want early graduation. This is not a whim—I've been thinking on it for days."
Hiruzen leaned back, measuring him. "If that is your wish, you will prove it in combat. A duel against a Hyūga chūnin. Only victory will justify your request. The match will be conducted tomorrow. Any issues with the arrangement?"
Renji bowed slightly, concealing the faint curve of his lips. "That is acceptable. But I want the Body Flicker Technique if I win."
Evening fell. Another summons—this time, into the depths of Root.
Danzo waited in the shadows, cane resting against his side, one bandaged eye studying Renji like prey he had failed to kill. "Uchiha Renji. Konoha wastes talent in the Academy. With Root, you would be sharpened into a blade."
Renji tilted his head, voice cold but deliberate. "If you can place the Body Flicker Technique in my hands before the match tomorrow, I will consider joining Root. If not—forget me." and walked away.
For the first time, Danzo's composure cracked, his jaw tightening. When Renji had gone, Danzo's voice lowered, bitter as poison. "I should have ended him in that hospital bed."
Next day... The chosen Hyūga chūnin, tall and composed, the Byakugan already glowing faintly with pale fire. He had served on border patrols, and now he was called to test the Uchiha boy who demanded early graduation.
The Academy's training ground was silent as a shrine. Students lined the edges, craning their necks. Iruka Sensei stood rigid but uneasy, and several jōnin circled the perimeter, their expressions unreadable. Even Hiruzen watched from the shade of the viewing platform, pipe resting cold at his side.
Renji stepped forward, kunai in hand, three tomoe sharingan activated, his face calm as still water. The Hyūga bowed slightly, his stance measured, veins bulging around his eyes.
Seal of Confrontation.
The duel erupted.
The Hyūga moved first, his hands blurring in a storm of strikes. Each fingertip carried precision deadly enough to close tenketsu with the faintest touch. His voice rang like iron: "Gentle Fist!"
Renji twisted away, Sharingan spinning into full bloom, mapping every angle. His body flowed with sharp economy—sidestep, duck, pivot—but a palm slammed into his chest, chakra sealing with a jolt of pain. Another grazed his arm, leaving it heavy and sluggish.
The crowd gasped. Renji staggered but did not fall. He exhaled once, steady, and his lips curved faintly. "So this is what you've got."
His stance shifted. His movements blurred, the faint shimmer of genjutsu clouding the Hyūga's perception. For every step Renji took, three afterimages lingered, their motions indistinguishable from his own. Shuriken flashed from his hand, curving unnaturally mid-flight as he twisted them with chakra threads. The Hyūga deflected one, then another—but a third grazed his shoulder.
The Sharingan whirled faster. Renji read each strike before it came, slipping just outside range, letting the blows carve air instead of flesh. A single step wrong and his chakra would be sealed entirely. Yet he danced through the storm, his body guided not only by instinct but by the vast memory of his shadows.
"Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!"
Small bursts of flame scattered like bullets, forcing the Hyūga to spin into Kaiten. A dome of chakra whirled around him, scattering the fire harmlessly, dust billowing into the sky.
Renji slid low through the smoke, kunai angled. His feint drew the Hyūga's guard to the right. Renji turned left in the same instant, a blur, and his blade cut clean across empty air before stopping cold at the man's throat.
The Hyūga froze, Byakugan wide. The audience held its breath.
The Hyūga lowered his head conceding defeat. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Hiruzen stepped forward, his robes whispering against the ground. He held out a forehead protector, voice carrying across the silent yard. "Congratulations!! You are a shinobi now."
Renji accepted it with a slight bow. He took the forehead protector into his hands, but instead of tying it to his brow like every other graduate before him, he wound the cloth tightly around his right arm. The metal plate gleamed against his skin, a declaration of his own path.
The teachers exchanged uneasy glances. Even Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly, pipe paused halfway to his lips. It was unconventional, even defiant. But the forehead protector was a symbol of one's loyalty, not a strict uniform. To wear it on the arm was his right. No one could object—though none of them liked it.
When Renji finally lifted his gaze, it was steady, unflinching. "Now," he said calmly, "I want the Body Flicker Technique."
Hiruzen studied him for a long, silent moment before nodding. "You'll have it this evening."
And so it was. By twilight, Renji received the sealed scroll. He memorized every line before the ink had time to fade from his sight. That night, in the emerald void, his shadows drilled the technique relentlessly—flickering from wall to wall, striking, vanishing, reappearing. Hours passed like moments, until their mastery flowed back into him as though he had practiced for years.
By dawn, he tested it himself. The world stretched and bent as he flickered across the stream behind his home, reappearing silently on the opposite bank. Leaves drifted where his body had been.
The next day, when Renji returned to the Academy out of habit, the forehead protector was tied not to his brow but to his arm. A statement clear as fire: He was no longer a student but was a shinobi.