Ren, seeing their stunned expressions, simply nodded, putting his experience into words. "It's fairly straightforward. The chakra is… responsive. It goes where I think it should go."
As a transmigrator with foreknowledge, he understood perfectly how abnormal this was. In the source material, foundational chakra control training—tree-walking, water-walking—was typically a post-graduation endeavor for genin. Even prodigies like Uchiha Sasuke had to practice it. Ren had seemingly bypassed the entire clumsy, trial-and-error phase. The ability for precise, fine-tuned chakra manipulation from the outset was a cornerstone of high-level shinobi prowess, critical for mastering complex ninjutsu and maximizing their power.
'The system's Spiritual Pressure Aptitude enhancement… it's not just a stat. It's directly boosting my inherent talent for energy control,' Ren concluded internally. The evidence was undeniable. He was holding a royal flush, and he was ready to lay his cards on the table. I'm a genius. Deal with it.
"Truly…" Shinku breathed out the word, his initial shock solidifying into awed certainty. He looked at Ren with newfound gravity. "Ren… the talent you've just displayed is unprecedented in my experience." He paused, then spoke the conclusion aloud, making it real. "This also confirms a long-held suspicion for me. You are undoubtedly a descendant of the Uzumaki clan. And not merely a descendant—you possess a genius caliber even among their storied lineage."
A warm, paternal pride swelled within him. He already considered Ren family, and Ren seemed to reciprocate. To discover such a diamond in the rough under his own roof… the Yūhi household had gained an unimaginable treasure.
Beside them, Kurenai finally shook off her daze. Her father's words sparked a flare of curiosity. "Descendant of the Uzumaki Clan?" she repeated, tilting her head. "Is that… a famous clan? Like the Uchiha or the Hyūga?"
"Ah…" Shinku's smile froze. In his excitement, he'd spoken a thought meant to remain private, a hypothesis he had never directly shared with Ren. His mind raced. Careless.
But the secret was out. He couldn't retract it or evade. He didn't know how Ren would react to this revelation about his own origins, a truth kept from him. He had intended to broach the subject later, after their bonds were unshakeable, in a controlled and gentle manner… not like this, as an accidental slip.
He took a steadying breath, his expression turning solemn, laced with genuine contrition. "Ren, I… apologize. I have kept this from you." His voice was heavy. "When I brought you to Konoha, the Hokage and I… we deduced from the circumstances of your recovery that you were likely a survivor of the Uzumaki clan."
His words came in a reluctant rush now. "Taking you into this home was, initially, a mission assigned to me by the Hokage. But… I…"
He faltered, struggling to articulate the shift that had occurred. The mission had been the genesis, but the reality of the past two months—the shared meals, the quiet companionship, the sibling bickering—had transformed duty into genuine affection. To confess this now felt like cheapening that developed bond. It was a cruel thing to tell a child: You were first a task, then a son.
What would Ren think? Would he feel like a commodity, a strategic asset brought in under false pretenses? Despite Ren's preternatural maturity, he was still a child of six or seven. The potential for betrayal, for a deep-seated resentment to take root, filled Shinku with a cold dread. He didn't fear losing a potential Uzumaki asset; he feared losing the boy who had become part of his family.
"Father… Ren…" Kurenai, picking up on the sudden, thick tension, looked between them, her own small face creased with worry. A terrible possibility dawned on her. Would Ren… leave? The thought was a hollow ache. No. He couldn't. She wouldn't allow it. In that moment, her pride in the title of 'older sister' evaporated. If it meant he would stay, she'd concede to being the little sister forever. It was the ultimate sacrifice she was willing to make.
"Oh, that?" Ren's response cut through the heavy atmosphere like a sunbeam through storm clouds. His tone was utterly casual, devoid of any hurt or surprise. "I already knew about that."
The statement was so simple it was disarming.
He had, in fact, been semi-conscious during that initial conversation by his sickbed, his mind clinging to fragments of sound. The strategic discussion between Shinku and the Sandaime had filtered through the haze of pain and confusion. He understood the pragmatic origins of his sanctuary perfectly well.
But pragmatism didn't preclude genuine kindness. Shinku had saved his life. He had provided a home, stability, and care without reservation. To a transmigrator who had woken up in a brutal world with nothing, that was a debt of incalculable value. Harboring a grudge over bureaucratic origins would be the height of foolish ingratitude. The Yūhi household was his home. Why would he sabotage that over a technicality? Only a truly broken system—or a broken person—would think that way.
The non-reaction was so unexpected that Shinku could only blink. "You… knew?"
Ren offered a small, reassuring smile. "I was in and out of consciousness, but I heard enough of your talk with the Hokage-sama. Don't worry about it, Uncle Shinku. I don't hold any ill will. I'm part of this family now. I'm Kurenai's annoying older brother. You'd have to physically throw me out to get rid of me, and even then, I'd probably climb back in through the window." He shrugged, his tone turning playfully practical. "If you need proof of commitment, I'll officially take the Yūhi name tomorrow. I don't have one of my own anyway."
His past held no memories of a surname, much like other scattered Uzumaki remnants—Nagato, Karin. The thought gave him a flicker of amusement. Wait, if I can exploit a dimensional system for power and I have Uzumaki blood… am I about to become obscenely overpowered?
"That… won't be necessary. Our family doesn't require such formalities." The tension drained from Shinku's shoulders, replaced by a profound relief that warmed him from the inside out. He reached out and ruffled Kurenai's hair, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Though it seems we have Kurenai to thank for a great deal…"
He silently retracted his earlier mental revision about Ren's maturity. The boy possessed it in spades. A new understanding dawned on him: Ren's previous, staunch resistance to the shinobi path… perhaps it wasn't mere laziness or fear. Maybe it had been a quiet, personal protest. Knowing he was seen as a "clan asset," a potential tool, he might have resisted fulfilling that expected role out of a subtle, wounded pride. But as he grew to trust them, to see them as true family, he chose to step onto that path anyway—not for Konoha's sake, but for theirs.
The imagined narrative filled Shinku with a deep, moving warmth. The boy had chosen them.
Kurenai, sensing the crisis had passed, puffed out her chest, her worry transforming back into her more familiar spirited pride. "Hmph! See? I'm very important. So… I'll reluctantly be your little sister for today, Ren. But only for today!"
Her eyes, however, began to dart with a familiar, scheming glint. The emotional moment was over; practical matters reasserted themselves. "Since you've already refined your chakra," she announced, planting her hands on her hips, "I think we should have our deciding spar tonight. If I win, I'm the older sister. If you win… you're the older brother. It's only fair!"
Her clever little mind was working overtime. The gap between a dozen seconds and two days was a yawning chasm of talent. If she waited, Ren's natural advantage would only grow. She had to strike now, in this narrow window where his raw power was still untrained and her half-year of head start might count for something. It was a tactical masterstroke.
Hehehe… she thought, a triumphant grin playing on her lips. I am so very smart.