Time passed without Renji being able to clearly notice it.
For an adult, it would have been agonizing, but for him—trapped in a child's body—the days blended into one another, marked only by small advances and new sensations.
By the age of two, he was already walking with some stability.
He didn't run or jump like other children; he was careful, almost too careful. Every step was calculated, not out of childish fear, but out of an awareness that didn't correspond to his age. He knew that a bad fall could have permanent consequences, and he didn't intend to take unnecessary risks.
His grandmother, Chiyo, watched him with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.
"This child…" she would sometimes murmur, "is too quiet." That sounded ironic to him because even in his past life, he had heard his grandmother say that he had been very quiet as a child. He had confirmed several important things during that time.
The first was that chakra grew with use, but also with adequate rest. Forcing it only led to extreme exhaustion, something dangerous for a developing body. So he trained sparingly, but every day. Simple exercises: making small leaves adhere to his skin, keeping his chakra flowing evenly while walking, or concentrating it in the soles of his feet for a few seconds longer than the day before.
Nothing that would draw much attention.
Now he could sense chakra up to about three meters away, as long as it was a considerable amount. He couldn't distinguish faces or identities, but he could discern clear differences between a civilian and a trained shinobi. The chakra of the latter was denser, more defined.
He had confirmed another important thing.
Chakra didn't respond directly to emotions. Anger, fear, or sadness didn't make it stronger on their own. What truly mattered was spiritual energy: willpower, concentration, and conscious intention.
Emotions only seemed to affect chakra when they disrupted that balance, interfering with control or amplifying a power that already existed. That explained why the tailed beasts were different. It wasn't pure hatred… it was an alien will, massive and constant, clashing with that of its bearer.
As the months passed, his skin began to darken slightly. Not drastically, but enough to be noticeable when compared to other children in the village. His hair also seemed thicker.
Based on these features and the strange looks he'd received, Renji already had a hypothesis about his origins… and about his mother's death.
Most likely, she had been captured at some point and, after being rescued, decided to have him anyway. That seemed strange to him; doing so under those circumstances could only lead to trouble.
Of course, there was another possibility: that it had all been part of a seduction mission to obtain a Kumogakure bloodline.
Hopefully, it would be the latter.
At least he would have a bloodline; that was already an advantage.
As he thought about it, more memories of his other life surfaced. They weren't clear or organized, but they were enough. Loose ideas. Concepts. Different ways of using chakra that he had seen or read about.
He didn't know which ones would work in this world…
but he intended to try.
Between one thought and the next, months turned into years. Renji grew up without realizing it, learning to speak, to listen, and, above all, to not say more than necessary.
By the age of five, his chakra control was no longer clumsy. It wasn't good, not by a long shot, but it was consistent. He knew how to maintain a steady flow for long periods and conceal it when needed.
His body had changed too.
His skin was a little darker than most of the children in the village, and his complexion was beginning to harden naturally. Nothing exaggerated. Nothing easily noticeable.
But enough.
The glances hadn't disappeared.
They had only become more discreet.
Over time, Renji began to overhear things that weren't meant for him.
Whispered conversations. Loose phrases slipped in when the adults thought he wasn't paying attention.
"...they say there were problems at the border..."
"...Kiri again..."
"...Kumo's been moving around more than usual..." Village names. Always the same ones. Always accompanied by awkward silences. Renji didn't understand everything, but he grasped the important points.
The world outside Konoha wasn't calm.
They weren't talking about peace.
They were talking about preparations.
About supply shipments.
About shinobi who weren't returning.
About children who "would have to start earlier."
From this information, he learned that the Third Shinobi World War had already ended, but the borders were still in constant conflict. At five years old, he would soon be entering the academy.
NOTA:This work is a fanfic inspired by the Naruto universe, created by Masashi Kishimoto. The characters, locations, and original concepts belong to their respective authors and copyright holders. This story is not for commercial purposes; it is created solely for entertainment and as a tribute to the original work. The author of this fanfic does not claim intellectual property rights over Naruto or its derivatives.