After that fight, many ideas came to me about how to improve—how to use chakra to keep an enemy close, or conversely, how to push them away.
The exchange with Aiko hadn't been a victory or a defeat, but it was a confirmation: direct combat wasn't enough. Positioning was everything.
The other children started looking at me more. Some with admiration, others with envy. The teachers also changed their attitude, paying a bit more attention to me. I didn't care much. The original plan was to stay unnoticed, yes, but showing a little talent was necessary to avoid being pushed aside.
So I adjusted the plan.
From now on, my performance would vary depending on the test. In theoretical exams, I'd keep decent grades. In chakra control, correct—nothing impressive.
But in things like kunai and shuriken throwing… I would fail on purpose. A miscalculation here, a bad angle there. Just enough so no one would see me as a real threat.
That would be the path.
As for friendships, there was only one that truly interested me.
The Uchiha.
Not because of her personally, but because of her eyes. When they awakened, they would be useful. I had no intention of ripping them out or implanting them into myself; that would be stupid and suicidal. My plan was much simpler: become her friend and ask her to copy specific jutsu I needed to improve.
An exchange. Nothing more, nothing less.
Aiko Uchiha's Perspective
Aiko.
That was her name.
From a young age, she had learned to observe before acting. It was something her father constantly told her:
"An Uchiha who attacks without understanding the enemy is a dead Uchiha."
That's why, from the very first day at the Academy, she had noticed that boy.
Renji.
He didn't talk much. He didn't run around with the others. He didn't try to draw attention.
But when he moved… he didn't waste energy.
That bothered her.
Not because he was better—well, maybe a little—but because he didn't feel like a normal civilian child.
In combat, she had confirmed it. His dodges were short, precise. He never retreated more than necessary. He didn't attack on impulse. Every movement had intent.
It wasn't natural talent.
It was experience.
After that day, Aiko started paying more attention to him. She noticed something strange: in some tests he failed clumsily, and in others he performed far too well. He was inconsistent… but not chaotically so. It was as if he chose when to stand out and when not to.
That unsettled her.
Why does he hold back? she wondered.
For now, she decided to observe.
The first approach was… casual.
Or at least, that's what Renji wanted it to look like.
During a break at the Academy, while most of the children talked loudly in groups, he sat under the shade of a tree, practicing slow hand seals without chakra. He didn't need chakra for that exercise; he just wanted someone to see him without it seeming intentional.
And it worked.
"Your seals are clean," a voice said beside him.
Renji looked up. Aiko Uchiha was standing there, arms crossed, watching him. There was no hostility in her tone, but no warmth either.
"I just repeat what they teach," he replied calmly.
She frowned slightly.
"No. You don't make unnecessary movements."
Renji shrugged.
"My grandmother taught me that way."
A lie. He had modified them himself—but she didn't know that, and she had just confirmed he'd done it right.
That comment seemed to relax her a bit. Aiko sat down at a short distance—far enough not to invade his space, close enough to keep watching him.
They didn't talk much more that day.
But from then on, they started crossing paths more often.
They didn't train together officially, but they sometimes shared the same space. Aiko noticed that Renji never asked useless questions—only what was necessary. And when he did ask, they were uncomfortably precise.
That put her on alert.
They weren't random questions. Renji didn't ask how to do something, but why it was done that way. What the limit was. What happened if the chakra flow was altered at a specific point. Details most children never even considered.
Aiko didn't answer everything.
She carefully chose what to say and what to withhold—not out of complete distrust, but because she sensed Renji would immediately use every answer.
And she wasn't wrong.
From Renji's perspective, he analyzed every word she gave him. He wasn't interested in clan jutsu—not yet. He cared about principles: timing, consumption, how chakra reacted to external stimuli.
Basic information… but dangerous in the right hands.
As days passed, that closeness became routine.
Not friendship.
Not open rivalry.
Something in between.
Aiko noticed something else: Renji always positioned himself advantageously. In the classroom, he chose seats where he could see most people. In training, he stood where no one could easily surround him.
He never did it obviously.
It just… happened.
"Do you always think this much before moving?" she asked one day while they practiced basic movement.
Renji took a second before answering.
"No. Only when it matters."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Here, everything matters."
Renji smiled faintly.
"Not yet."
That answer made her uncomfortable.
From Renji's perspective, things were going better than expected.
Aiko was observant, yes—but also disciplined. She didn't talk too much, didn't act on emotional impulses. That made her predictable… and reliable within limits.
It wasn't time to ask her for anything yet.
First, he needed to build something more solid.
So he made small mistakes on purpose in front of her. Measured failures. A slight imbalance. A miscalculation. Just enough not to seem infallible.
It worked.
Aiko stopped seeing him as an immediate threat and started seeing him as an unknown.
That was better.
During a chakra-less sparring practice, Renji let himself be thrown. He fell onto his back without exaggeration. Aiko watched him for a second longer than necessary before offering her hand.
Renji took it.
The gesture was small.
But meaningful.
That night, while practicing alone, Renji reflected.
Positioning wasn't just physical.
It was social.
If he wanted to survive, he needed to stay close to useful people without depending on them. Build connections without exposing himself. Give just enough, take what was necessary.
Aiko Uchiha was the first step.
He didn't underestimate her.
He didn't idealize her either.
He knew that when the time came, she would choose her clan over him.
And he would do the same.
For now, that was enough.
At the Academy, rumors began to circulate. Not directly about him, but about "strange kids." Too serious. Too quiet. Too aware.
Renji listened and stayed silent.
Aiko listened and remembered.
Both of them knew that this place wasn't a normal school.
It was a filter.
And only those who understood the unwritten rules would make it to the end.
Without realizing it, they had already taken their first step out of childhood.
And neither of them planned to look back.
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.