"I have indeed begun training in kenjutsu under my father," Kakashi confirmed, his visible eye narrowing further in analytical curiosity. "But how did you know that?"
He had never spoken of it publicly, nor had he drawn a blade in the academy. It was a private aspect of his training. Ren's knowledge felt intrusive, a breach in his usual controlled facade.
"It's simple," Ren replied, unfazed. He couldn't very well cite the original manga. Instead, he crafted a plausible, ninja-like justification. "Information gathering is a foundational shinobi skill. In any confrontation, intelligence is paramount. I make it a point not to underestimate any potential rival, and you, Kakashi, present a significant one."
A little strategic flattery never hurt. It greased the wheels for future interactions. Ren was, after all, a mature and reliable adult in a child's body, well-versed in such social graces.
"I see. A valuable perspective," Kakashi acknowledged, the explanation resonating with his own rigorous upbringing. His respect for Ren ticked upward another notch, and with it, his seriousness. Ren was not just strong; he was thorough. To be considered a significant rival by such an individual was, in itself, a form of high praise. It meant he absolutely could not afford to lose.
Their conversation, however, had not gone unnoticed by their instructor. Teacher Oda, having overheard the escalating intent, stepped forward, his tone laced with professional concern and a firm warning. "Ren, Kakashi. Today's exercise is confined to basic taijutsu. Full-scale combat involving ninjutsu and weapons is premature for first-year students. The risk is unacceptable."
What were these two thinking? All-out sparring at their age was fraught with danger. Wasn't this progressing far too quickly? While a part of him was intensely curious about their capabilities, his duty as their teacher and protector demanded intervention.
Ren turned a reassuring smile toward Teacher Oda.
"Please don't worry, sensei. We are both aware of our limits. More importantly, with a capable chūnin like you supervising, any potential danger is mitigated. I have complete faith in your ability to ensure our safety!" He delivered the line with perfect, convincing sincerity.
Kakashi, equally unwilling to let the opportunity slip, added his own nod of earnest appeal. "We request your permission, sensei!"
"Well..." Teacher Oda found himself wavering. Their combined earnestness, the flattering vote of confidence in his abilities, and the tacit plea were a potent mix. A faint, professional pride bloomed in his chest.
They trust me to handle this. He reasoned with himself: they were, after all, just two first-year students. Even if they knew a technique or two, what level of threat could they possibly pose with him, a seasoned chūnin, standing right here? The temptation to witness this unprecedented clash between prodigies won out.
"Alright," he conceded, his voice regaining its authority. "But you will cease immediately at my command. This will also serve as a demonstration for your classmates. I must admit... I am somewhat curious to see what you've both managed to learn."
His words carried clearly to the assembled students.
A ripple of palpable excitement and shock passed through the crowd. Their two top students had already begun learning ninjutsu? And they were about to have a real fight? This was leagues beyond the clumsy taijutsu exchanges they'd witnessed. A mix of awe, envy, and burning curiosity ignited within them. What was the true chasm that separated them from these so-called geniuses?
"Damn it! Why didn't I think of that?!" Asuma Sarutobi muttered, smacking his own forehead in frustration. Letting Kakashi be the one to propose the advanced match felt like a tactical blunder.
Was he truly outmaneuvered?
No. He had merely... forgotten to be that audacious.
"Hmm. Kakashi... he's quite brave," Kurenai Yuhi observed, blinking slowly. She considered anyone willing to voluntarily step into a ring with Ren for a serious fight to be either extraordinarily brave or slightly foolish. He'd probably end up crying for a good while, wouldn't he?
"..."
Rin Nohara glanced nervously between the two boys, her fingers twisting together anxiously. They were both her friends. Who should she support? It was so confusing.
After a moment's internal debate, she decided on Ren. He had, after all, been very helpful with her studies and was generally kind to her. But she hoped Kakashi wouldn't be too badly hurt.
"Go, Kakashi! Beat him!" Uchiha Obito, free from any such moral conflict, cheered loudly from the sidelines. He wished fervently that he could be the one in that ring, delivering a humbling lesson to Ren. Since he lacked the strength, he'd settle for living vicariously through Kakashi's victory. Ren was, without a doubt, his number one rival in all things.
Ignoring the buzzing commentary, the two combatants in the ring faced each other once more and formed the Hand Seal of Confrontation.
Kakashi's hand dipped into his ninja tool pouch and emerged gripping a sturdy, practice-grade wooden short sword. His entire demeanor shifted, his gaze sharpening like the blade he now held.
"Be careful, Ren," he stated flatly. "Even a wooden sword can cause injury."
Ren settled into a ready stance, his own focus crystallizing. "I'm prepared. Begin!"
Shun!
The moment Ren's voice faded, Kakashi vanished from his spot. It wasn't mere speed; it was a burst of accelerated movement that left a faint afterimage. He closed the distance in an eye-blink, the wooden sword in his hand cutting downward in a swift, precise arc that sliced the air with a sharp whoosh.
"Body Flicker Technique?" Ren's eyes narrowed. That explosive initial acceleration was unmistakable. Kakashi had already mastered one of the most utilitarian movement ninjutsu.
Truly a prodigy.
But it wasn't enough to bypass Ren's heightened senses. His dynamic vision and reflexive awareness were far from ordinary. He tracked the blur, shifting his weight with economical grace to let the wooden blade whisper past his shoulder. In the same fluid motion, he pivoted, his right leg coiling like a spring before lashing out in a powerful counter-kick aimed at Kakashi's midsection.
Thud!
The kick connected solidly—but the impact produced a hollow, wrong sound. A puff of white smoke erupted, and a section of training log was sent skidding across the dirt from the force of Ren's blow.
Substitution Technique. The quintessential academy-level distraction jutsu. At the moment of impact, the user replaces their body with a pre-prepared object, typically a log, creating an opening.
Ren's sharp eyes had caught the details: the subtle reach into the pouch, the swift substitution as Kakashi leveraged the momentum of Ren's attack. It was a clean execution, but Ren knew its limitations.
This wasn't a space-time swap; it was a feint relying on misdirection and speed. Against superior sensory perception or experienced foes, it could become a liability, creating a vulnerable moment during the setup.
The white smoke served as a screen. Kakashi hadn't gone far. From within the dissipating cloud, a series of hand seals were completed in a rapid, practiced sequence. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and then exhaled with force.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
A C-rank ninjutsu. A technique commonly wielded by chūnin, its mastery by a five-year-old was nothing short of monstrous.
ROAR!
A sphere of chakra-transformed flame, over a meter in diameter, erupted from Kakashi's mouth. It tore through the air with a hungry roar, trailing a tail of superheated air and casting a dancing, hellish orange glow across the training ground. A wave of searing heat radiated outward, washing over the spectators and painting their faces with alternating light and shadow, their expressions universally frozen in astonishment and dawning horror.
Kakashi Hatake, at five, had unleashed a C-rank offensive ninjutsu. The sheer, abnormal talent on display was staggering.
"Oh, no!" While others were stunned, Teacher Oda's instincts screamed into overdrive. The destructive power of a C-rank technique was real. Even a meter-wide fireball could cause severe burns or worse if it struck directly. His career—no, his student's safety—was in imminent jeopardy! He began to channel chakra into his legs for a Body Flicker intervention.
But the scene that unfolded next made him freeze mid-prep, his jaw going slack. His eyes widened to an almost comical degree, filled with an even deeper, more profound shock, as if the laws of physics themselves had just been casually rewritten before him.
"Impressive. You've even mastered a C-rank technique..." Ren's voice cut through the roar of the flames, calm and almost conversational. Then, instead of evading, he did the unthinkable—he took a step forward, charging directly toward the oncoming inferno.
"But I'm not without my own tricks!"
The scorching heat washed over him, making his red hair flare like a living flame. The firelight gleamed in his utterly composed eyes. Planting his front foot firmly, he drew his right arm back. Not in a wild swing, but with a controlled, powerful torque that gathered the strength of his entire body. Chakra, not for transformation but for pure, explosive reinforcement, surged through his arm and concentrated in his fist.
He didn't shout. There was no dramatic name. He simply threw a single, devastating punch directly into the heart of the roaring fireball.
BOOM!!
A concussive blast, louder than the fireball's own roar, shattered the air. The sphere of churning flame seemed to hang suspended for a fractured second. Then, as if it had collided with an immovable mountain of force, it violently disintegrated. The cohesive structure of the jutsu shattered, bursting apart into a shower of scattered, harmless embers and dissipating tongues of fire that fluttered to the ground like dying orange leaves.
The Great Fireball hadn't been dodged, dispelled, or countered with another ninjutsu.
It had been obliterated—smashed into nothingness by a single, overwhelming punch.
Silence, heavier than any sound, blanketed the training ground. The only remnants were tendrils of smoke and the faint, acrid scent of ozone and scorched air.
Every pair of eyes, from the stunned Teacher Oda to the gaping Uchiha Obito, was locked on Ren, who stood calmly at the center, slowly lowering his smoking fist.