On the tree-lined path just outside the training grounds, the air grew thick with tension.
Takeuchi Ryuya's henchmen—skilled genin, two of them nearly chunin-level—fanned out subtly, surrounding Ren. Their eyes burned with hostility, chakra simmering beneath their skin, ready to erupt at a moment's notice. At their center stood Ryuya himself, arms crossed, gaze heavy with arrogance. To him, Ren was nothing more than a stray dog who'd gotten lucky—awakening the Sharingan, landing under Kakashi's tutelage—but still just a green genin with shallow roots. In Ryuya's mind, he was a battle-tested chunin; crushing a rookie like Ren would be effortless.
And today's backup? All elite clan members. Outnumbered and outclassed—how could Ren possibly turn the tide?
"Kid," Ryuya drawled, voice dripping with condescension, "I'll give you one chance. Kneel. Kowtow to my brother. Apologize. Then gouge out your own eyes… and maybe I'll let you live."
Before the last word left his lips—Ren moved.
No fear. No hesitation. Only a flicker of exhilaration in his eyes. A month under Kakashi's brutal tutelage, combined with his mastery of Gentle Fist and the Light of Insight, had left him starving for a real fight.
"Shut up."
The words cut through the silence like steel. Ren shot forward—not away, but straight toward the nearest henchman: a broad-shouldered blond known for his raw taijutsu.
"Fool! Rushing to your death?" the blond sneered, already winding up a devastating punch. His fist, massive and swift, whistled through the air like a war drum, aimed to shatter Ren's jaw.
To any ordinary genin, that strike would've ended the fight before it began.
But to Ren, it was an open book.
Illusory Eyes: Light of Insight—Activate!
Within his irises, crimson and silver swirled. The world sharpened. He saw not just the arc of the punch, but the twitch of tendons, the surge of chakra through limb meridians, even the major tenketsu glowing faintly beneath the skin.
Perfect.
Ren didn't dodge. His left hand lashed out like a striking viper, fingers precise as scalpels, slamming into the ulnar joint of the blond's elbow. Chakra coiled at his fingertips—then detonated inward.
Gentle Fist: Acupoint Strike!
Crack!
Electric agony shot up the henchman's arm. Nerves shorted out. Strength vanished. His punch collapsed mid-swing, arm dangling uselessly.
"Ah—!" he gasped, face draining of color.
Ren didn't pause.
Right hand snapped forward—index and middle fingers aligned like a blade—driving into the tenketsu point on the man's sternum.
Gentle Fist: Inch Pulse!
Pfft!
The henchman's breath vanished. His heart seized. He flew backward as if yanked by invisible strings, crashing into the dirt and vomiting a spray of blood before going still.
Silence.
It had taken less than three seconds.
Two strikes. One down. Unconscious. Possibly worse.
Takeuchi Ryuya's smug mask shattered. His eyes widened in disbelief. That blond wasn't just any lackey—he was top-tier among genin, capable of holding his own against fresh chunin! And Ren had dismantled him like kindling.
And that taijutsu…
"Gentle Fist?!" Ryuya's voice cracked. "How—how do you know the Hyūga's secret art?!"
Whispers rippled through the remaining henchmen. Gentle Fist—everyone in Konoha knew its reputation. A style that bypassed flesh to strike chakra pathways and organs directly. Only the Hyūga were meant to wield it.
Was this orphan somehow tied to the clan? Had Kakashi—dared—to teach it?
Ren offered no answer. He simply turned to the others, fingers curling in a silent taunt.
"Come on," he said, voice icy. "All of you. Don't waste my time."
Arrogant? Yes. But after what they'd just witnessed, no one dared call it bluff.
"Damn it! Don't get cocky!" one snarled.
"Attack together! Now!"
The three remaining henchmen lunged as one.
The first molded seals furiously—Fire Release blazing at his lips.
The second drew his wakizashi, steel glinting as it sliced toward Ren's throat.
The third slammed palms to earth—chakra surging into the ground, summoning earthen shackles to root Ren in place.
The three moved as one—clearly not their first time fighting side by side.
Facing their coordinated assault, Ren remained calm. His footwork shifted like a butterfly through blossoms, evading each strike with fluid grace.
His Illusory Eyes parsed their movements before they fully committed—predicting trajectories, revealing openings. Combined with the Gentle Fist footwork and chakra-dissipating techniques Kakashi had drilled into him, he became nearly untouchable.
"Fire Release: Flame Bullet!"
"Earth Release: Earth Wall!"
The jutsu erupted almost simultaneously. A searing orb of fire rocketed toward him—and beneath his feet, the earth groaned, beginning to rise into a confining wall.
At the same time, the third attacker—the wakizashi-wielder—lunged, blade flickering like a serpent's strike aimed at Ren's spine.
Fire ahead. Steel behind. Earth closing in from below.
A perfect pincer—inescapable, or so it seemed.
Yet just as defeat appeared inevitable, a faint, knowing smile touched Ren's lips.
"Illusory Eye—Shadow Clone!"
Three shimmering duplicates materialized in an instant: one to meet the fireball, one to intercept the blade, one to confront the rising earthen barrier.
While the clones drew all attention, Ren's true body slipped like a phantom behind the Earth Release user—still channeling chakra into his technique.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
The clones dissolved into motes of light, shattered the moment they made contact. But their sacrifice bought him the opening he needed.
"Not good—!" the Earth user gasped, twisting to defend—
Too late.
Ren's fingertips struck the Fengu point at the base of his neck with surgical precision.
Gentle Fist: Meridian Interception!
"Agh—!"
Chakra pathways collapsed into chaos. The earth wall crumbled as its caster slumped, unconscious before he hit the ground.
One down.
The remaining two froze, horror dawning in their eyes. That wasn't a standard Shadow Clone—it vanished without smoke or puff. And that taijutsu… it bypassed armor, seals, even evasion. He was a nightmare for ninjutsu and kenjutsu specialists alike.
"Fall back! Now!" they shouted in unison—and turned to flee.
"Think you can run?" Ren's voice cut through the air like ice.
Chakra flared beneath his soles. In a blur, he overtook them—no killing intent, only efficiency. His fingers jabbed key meridian points in their legs.
Their knees buckled as if weighted with lead. Before they could recover, a precise kick dropped each one beside their comrade.
Less than a minute. Four elite genin—neutralized.
Only Takeuchi Ryuya remained, standing rigid, face bloodless, sweat tracing cold paths down his temples.
He watched Ren approach, trembling.
This guy… is he even human?
A month ago, Ren couldn't even form a stable Shadow Clone. Now? He'd awakened a dōjutsu—not the Sharingan (though rumors swirled otherwise)—mastered an uncanny illusion-based clone technique, and wielded Hyūga-style Gentle Fist with lethal precision. Defeating four seasoned genin like it was target practice?
That wasn't progress. It was defiance of nature itself.
"S-Stay back!" Ryuya stammered, retreating despite his words. "I'm a chūnin! My brother's a jōnin! The Takeuchi clan won't forgive this!"
Ren stopped, lips curling in quiet derision. "The Takeuchi clan?" He cracked his knuckles. "Good. I've been wanting to test my Gentle Fist on someone who's actually trained."
Ryuya's gaze locked onto Ren's eyes—cold, calculating—and the faint chakra shimmering at his fingertips. Panic swallowed reason.
He knew. Even his best men fell in seconds. And he? A chūnin by privilege, not prowess. Cannon fodder.
"I—I was wrong, Lord Ren!" Ryuya collapsed to his knees, tears mixing with snot. "I misjudged you! Please—I'll cover your brother's medical fees! Name your price! Anything!"
Moments ago, this man had sneered with entitled arrogance. Now he groveled like a beaten cur.
Disgust flickered in Ren's eyes. This wasn't worth his energy.
"Get out," he said—just two syllables, colder than winter wind.
"Yes! Thank you! Thank you!" Ryuya scrambled up, abandoning his fallen allies without a glance, and vanished in a panicked sprint.
Ren watched him go, expression unreadable.
So this is Konoha's nobility? Pathetic.
But the outcome suited him. Word of this fight would spread fast:
An orphan, eyes awakened, wielding strange clones and Gentle Fist—defeated four elites and broke a chūnin with a look.
Let them whisper. Let them fear.
Deterrence was as vital as secrecy. Strength concealed was strength wasted—if never seen.
He turned toward Kakashi's residence, stride steady, resolve unshaken.
Above, Konoha's sky stretched endless and blue.
But his path would not end here.
It reached beyond villages, beyond nations—toward the stars, the sea, and the infinite secrets hidden within the eye itself.