"Faster."
Ren's voice dropped—sharp and cold—as he stared at Uzuki Yūgao, who still looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Draw. Slash."
"O-Okay…!"
Shing—!
Yūgao's short sword flashed. Almost on instinct—guided by that eerie "breathing" she'd sensed—she cut forward.
A pale, crescent-shaped slash wave tore out.
BOOM—!
It slammed into a wooden training post.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then a perfectly smooth line appeared down the center—
…and the post split cleanly in two, the top half sliding off and thudding to the ground.
"…That's insane."
Kurenai Yūhi's eyes went wide. She even rubbed them like she didn't trust what she'd just seen.
"That was Yūgao… right?"
Yūgao herself looked even more shocked than Kurenai.
"I—I just… heard something. Like… everything was breathing. So I swung and—"
Ren studied her for a long moment, then nodded once.
"You've got real talent."
He didn't praise people lightly.
"If you keep grinding, you might become the strongest female swordsman in the shinobi world."
"W-What's… a 'great swordsman'?" Yūgao asked blankly.
Ren shrugged, like it was obvious.
"A top-tier one? In the right matchup, one clean strike can drop an Elite Jōnin."
He glanced at her blade.
"Three strikes… and even a Kage-level opponent can bleed out."
Clink.
Yūgao's sword slipped from her fingers and hit the ground.
The meaning landed a second later.
Kurenai's expression wasn't much better.
One strike to kill an Elite Jōnin?
That sounded less like "skill" and more like a nightmare.
Ren exhaled.
"Enough daydreaming."
He pointed toward the open ground.
"We build the foundation first. Body conditioning."
"Ah…" Yūgao whimpered.
"We'll do our best…" Kurenai said, forcing herself upright.
And just like that, their "training" turned into another round of joyful suffering—because Ren's warm-up was other people's personal hell.
…
Three hours later—
After walking both girls home, Ren strolled through Konoha alone, hands in his pockets, heading back toward the Uchiha District.
When he reached a narrow, dim alley, he stopped.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"You've followed me long enough."
He didn't even turn around.
"Come out."
Whoosh—whoosh—!
Two figures landed in front of him in near-silence—both wearing cat masks.
Root.
"Uchiha Ren," one said flatly. "Danzō requests your presence."
Ren didn't blink.
"Get lost."
And he kept walking, like they were background noise.
Root's aura shifted—cold, offended.
"Then… we'll have to be forceful."
The two masked operatives exchanged a glance.
They'd been given a direct order.
Bring him back. No matter what.
Whoosh—!
They burst forward from both sides, kunai in hand, aiming to pin him in a cross-cut.
Thud—thud—!
They didn't even see Ren move.
One moment they were attacking—
the next, both were airborne, launched like trash bags in a storm.
They crashed hard—fifty paces away—skidding across the stone.
The impact shook dust loose from the alley walls.
"—Kgh!"
"—Hrk!"
Both men spat blood, eyes wide with disbelief.
It wasn't just pain.
It was wrong.
Their insides felt… shattered.
Like their organs had been punched loose.
Ren stretched his neck lazily, as if he'd only swatted mosquitoes.
"Danzō."
His voice carried down the alley, calm and contemptuous.
"Did you really send two chūnin to embarrass you?"
He tilted his head slightly, gaze drifting toward the far end.
"You've had Root watching me for a while."
His smile sharpened.
"Since you're here… stop hiding and show yourself."
Clap… clap… clap…
Slow applause echoed.
At the mouth of the alley stood a man in white—chin marked by a cross-shaped scar, one eye sunk in shadow.
Shimura Danzō.
He looked at Ren like he was assessing a weapon.
"Not bad," Danzō said evenly. "For a taijutsu specialist."
His voice hardened.
"Your sensing is… impressive."
His gaze flicked to the two collapsed operatives, then back to Ren.
"You attacked Root."
Danzō's tone didn't rise, but the threat was obvious.
"Are you not afraid… I'll come after you for this?"
…
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