"Is this the young genin everyone has been talking about lately?"
Shinku Yūhi's voice was calm, but his gaze was anything but casual. He studied Ren from across the table, taking in the white hair, relaxed posture, and steady eyes that seemed far too composed for someone his age.
"I've heard your team performed exceptionally well on the southwestern front," Shinku continued. "Lord Jiraiya mentioned all three of you more than once in his battle reports. To earn that kind of recognition during your first deployment is no small achievement. The younger generation truly is frightening."
"You're too kind, Senior Shinku," Ren replied with an easy smile. "I only did what any Konoha shinobi should have done. Compared with the accomplishments of veteran jōnin like you, my contribution isn't worth boasting about."
His answer was humble without sounding timid, and confident without crossing into arrogance.
Shinku's eyes narrowed slightly.
The boy knew how to speak.
Hiroshi Nohara, however, immediately burst into laughter. "Ren is always like this! He makes achievements that embarrass grown shinobi, then acts as though he merely completed an ordinary mission. And it isn't only on the battlefield. That Raw Cola everyone is fighting to buy was also created because of him and Lady Tsunade."
"Oh?"
This time, Shinku's surprise was genuine. "You mean that black drink currently selling out across the village? I heard it has a rather unusual taste. Even Lord Third tried it and reportedly praised it. That was your idea?"
Ren had barely opened his mouth when movement near the table drew everyone's attention.
The owner of Yakiniku Q approached with a waiter behind her. She greeted Tajima warmly, exchanged a few polite remarks about business, then placed a large platter of freshly cut fruit in the centre of the table.
The waiter set down an entire crate of chilled Raw Cola beside her.
"This is on the house," the owner said with a broad smile. "Your workshop has brought us plenty of customers lately. People come in asking for grilled meat and Raw Cola as though the two were invented together."
Although the drinks had originally come from Tajima's workshop, they technically belonged to the restaurant once purchased. Offering an entire crate for free was therefore a generous gesture—and a deliberate show of respect.
Tajima was not a vain man, but even he could not hide the satisfaction in his expression.
"Ren, pass them around."
"Of course."
Ren stood and began distributing the bottles. Rin rose almost immediately to help him, arranging one beside every plate while carefully wiping away the moisture collecting on the glass.
Kurenai watched the two of them move naturally around each other.
Her red eyes lingered for half a second longer than necessary.
When everyone had been served, Hiroshi clapped his hands. "Enough talking! The meat is ready. Eat before it gets cold."
The grill hissed violently as fat dripped onto the glowing charcoal. Flames flared beneath the metal grate, coating the air with the rich aroma of beef, pork, and sauce.
"I'm telling you, grilled meat and Raw Cola are a perfect combination," Hiroshi said as he turned several slices with his chopsticks. "Half the village has discovered it already. Senior Shinku, you should try them together."
Shinku nodded and reached for his chopsticks.
Before he could pick up a piece, his daughter's voice drifted across the table.
"Ren, this one is cooked perfectly."
Kurenai lifted a golden-brown slice of beef rib from the grill. The edges were crisp, while the centre remained tender and glistening with sauce.
She placed it neatly onto Ren's plate.
"You've only just returned from the battlefield," she said, smiling softly. "You should eat more and recover properly."
Ren looked down at the meat, then at Kurenai. "Thanks."
Rin's chopsticks stopped.
Only for a moment.
Then she calmly selected a piece of pork tenderloin from the other side of the grill and placed it beside Kurenai's beef.
"Ren prefers pork when it's cooked like this," Rin said gently. "It's softer."
Kurenai's eyes moved toward her.
Rin smiled.
Kurenai smiled back.
The air between them remained perfectly polite.
It was also sharp enough to cut steel.
Kurenai reached for the vegetable tray. "The mushrooms are fresh too. I heard they were picked this morning. They're especially good after being brushed with sauce."
Before Ren could answer, a mushroom landed on his plate.
Rin immediately added a grilled onion.
"You should eat vegetables as well," she said. "Too much meat isn't healthy."
Kurenai picked up another slice of beef.
Rin reached for the soup ladle.
Within moments, Ren's plate was buried beneath enough food to feed a small squad.
He stared at the growing mountain in silence.
Across the table, Shinku's expression slowly changed.
It was subtle at first—a slight tightening around the eyes, a faint crease between his brows. Then his gaze shifted from Kurenai to Ren and remained there.
The full weight of an experienced father's suspicion descended upon Ren.
Under normal circumstances, Shinku viewed Ren favourably.
The boy had graduated at the top of his class, defeated Asuma during the graduation evaluation, and distinguished himself almost immediately after being sent to the front. His name had begun appearing in official reports, private conversations, and even lectures delivered by frustrated parents.
A few years earlier, every Konoha parent had used Kakashi as the example.
Look at Kakashi. Why can't you train like him?
Recently, another name had begun replacing his.
Look at Ren. He came from an ordinary family. He wasn't born with a bloodline limit. He struggled for years, then worked hard and surpassed everyone.
That story inspired many civilian families. It made them believe their own children might suddenly awaken hidden potential and become extraordinary shinobi.
Shinku had admired that.
Until now.
Now, all he could see was his daughter feeding another boy.
Kurenai had not placed food on her father's plate in years. Yet she was carefully choosing the best pieces of meat for Ren as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
A troubling thought entered Shinku's mind.
Could his daughter like this boy?
Impossible.
They were far too young.
Such matters should not even be considered for another five years—preferably ten.
More importantly, why did Ren get the perfectly grilled beef while her own father had to serve himself?
Shinku's gaze became heavier.
On the other side of the table, Hiroshi was experiencing a very different kind of crisis.
He had always regarded Ren as a possible future son-in-law.
The Mikami and Nohara families had known one another for years. They understood each other's personalities, values, and circumstances. Ren and Rin had grown up together, trained together, and now fought in the same squad.
Childhood friends becoming partners later in life would be perfectly natural.
Hiroshi had never said it aloud, but the possibility had crossed his mind more than once.
Then Kurenai appeared.
Who was this girl, and why had she positioned herself beside Ren so confidently?
Worse, she was beautiful.
Hiroshi glanced at Shinku, then back at Kurenai.
It made no sense.
Shinku was certainly not more handsome than him. How had he produced such an attractive daughter?
And why did Rin suddenly look as though she had entered a competition she had not known existed?
For the first time that evening, Ren found himself caught between two girls and targeted by two fathers at the same time.
Rin remained gentle.
Kurenai remained elegant.
Shinku stared at him as though analysing an enemy infiltrator.
Hiroshi looked at him as though evaluating whether a long-term family investment was in danger.
Ren had faced enemy shinobi, explosive tags, and lethal ambushes with less discomfort.
He lowered his head and began eating.
Silence was his safest option.
Fortunately, Tajima noticed the increasingly strange atmosphere. He quickly reached for the crate beside the table.
"Enough meat for a moment. Everyone should try the Raw Cola while it's still cold."
He opened several bottles, filling glasses as the dark liquid foamed near the rim.
Tajima raised his own drink. "Let's celebrate Ren and Rin returning safely from the front. May everyone here remain healthy, and may the coming days bring us success rather than sorrow."
"Cheers!"
The glasses met above the table.
The cold drink rushed across their tongues, sweet and sharp, with bubbles that prickled all the way down their throats.
Even Shinku paused after his first sip.
A trace of approval appeared in his eyes. "Interesting. The sweetness is strong, but the bubbles prevent it from becoming unpleasant. I understand why younger people are obsessed with it."
"Exactly!" Hiroshi said. "And after eating fatty meat, it clears the taste immediately."
The conversation gradually moved away from Ren's overloaded plate.
The adults began discussing the village, the economy, and the war.
The cheerful mood softened as soon as the southwestern front was mentioned.
Konoha and Sunagakure had already been fighting for more than half a year. By now, even the most optimistic villagers understood that the conflict would not end quickly.
Every battle report carried new names.
Some were promoted.
Some were wounded.
Some never returned.
Of the eight people seated around the table, only Tajima, Aoi, and Miki were unlikely to be sent to the front. The others were shinobi, active genin, or children already being prepared for war.
No one knew how many of them would still be alive two years from now.
That thought passed silently among the adults, but none of them gave it a voice.
Instead, Shinku changed the subject.
"Will your team be participating in this year's Chūnin Exams?"
"Yes," Rin answered. "That's one of the main reasons we were recalled from the front."
"I see."
Shinku leaned back slightly. "This year's examination will be larger than usual. Several smaller villages are sending teams, and there are rumours that Iwagakure may send representatives as well."
Rin's expression became more serious.
Kurenai listened closely.
Ren continued eating.
"I've also been listed as a possible examiner," Shinku added. His gaze settled on Ren again. "So we may meet inside the examination grounds."
He paused.
"Ren, I hope we'll have an opportunity to communicate properly when that happens. I'm interested in seeing whether your ability matches your reputation."
The word communicate carried a suspicious amount of weight.
Ren understood the warning.
He simply did not care.
The Chūnin Exams were not a serious threat to him anymore. Unless a Kage-level shinobi or a jinchūriki entered the examination solely to crush inexperienced genin, he could pass without revealing even half his strength.
He could probably send a shadow clone and still qualify.
If Shinku wished to make the exam harder, then every participant would face the same difficulty.
Ren had no reason to worry.
The meal continued, though the strange competition beside him never completely disappeared. Rin served him soup. Kurenai selected vegetables. Every small movement caused one father's eyebrow to twitch and the other's expression to darken.
Only Tajima and Aoi seemed pleased.
They watched Rin and Kurenai with growing interest.
Rin had grown up beside Ren. She was thoughtful, loyal, and capable under pressure. Her temperament was excellent, and the Mikami family already regarded her with affection.
Kurenai was unfamiliar, but she appeared well-mannered, intelligent, and sincere. She was also the daughter of a respected Konoha jōnin.
Both seemed wonderful.
That made the situation difficult.
Aoi exchanged a brief look with Tajima.
They silently reached the same conclusion.
Their son could deal with that problem himself.
Parents only needed to wait for him to grow older, marry, and establish his own family.
Eventually, the meal came to an end.
The three families settled the bill and gathered outside Yakiniku Q. The night air was cool, carrying away much of the tension that had accumulated around the grill.
Kurenai turned toward Ren and Rin.
"Good luck in the Chūnin Exams," she said. Then she raised a small fist toward Ren. "Don't lose before I get the chance to see you fight."
"I'll try not to disappoint you."
Kurenai smiled, waved goodbye, and followed her father down the street.
Shinku glanced back once.
His eyes met Ren's.
The warning in that final look was unmistakable.
Hiroshi noticed Tajima smiling to himself.
"What are you laughing about?"
Tajima coughed quickly. "I remembered something amusing."
He certainly could not admit that he had been comparing future daughters-in-law.
Instead, he changed the subject. "Hiroshi, why don't you retire from active duty and help me expand the factory? Raw Cola is growing faster than expected. With your help, we could increase production and open another workshop."
Hiroshi shook his head. "The village needs shinobi right now. I can't retire in the middle of a war."
He looked toward the road ahead.
"Sometimes I envy you, Tajima. I know your injury nearly killed you, but at least you can remain in the village now. You have a successful business, a good wife, and a son everyone talks about."
"Fate decides more than people admit," Tajima replied. "When I was first wounded, I thought my life was over. I never imagined surviving would lead me here."
The mood grew heavier again.
Aoi stepped in before silence could settle.
"Hiroshi, you're still young. You and Miki could always have another child. Ren once suggested the name Shinnosuke, didn't he? Nohara Shinnosuke. It has a lively sound."
Hiroshi repeated the name thoughtfully. "Nohara Shinnosuke… It sounds like the name of a child who would cause trouble every day."
Then he laughed.
"But having a son wouldn't be bad. Rin would make a wonderful older sister. He'd be around ten years younger than Ren, so perhaps Ren could take him as a disciple someday."
The two families returned home beneath the village lights, their laughter gradually fading into the quiet streets.
The next several days passed without incident.
Tsunade sent no message. Ren had no idea whether she was carefully studying the experimental data he had given her or losing money at a gambling table somewhere.
Both possibilities seemed equally likely.
Ren used the opportunity to visit Konoha's research facility.
Orochimaru was already inside one of the sealed laboratories when Ren arrived. The room smelled of chemicals, sterilised metal, and something faintly organic that Ren chose not to identify.
He placed a secured container on the examination table.
Orochimaru's golden eyes brightened immediately.
"Oh?"
He opened the outer seal and studied the sample within.
"Blood from Pakura, the Scorch Release user."
His tongue briefly passed over his lips.
"Ren, you truly know how to bring me valuable surprises."
Orochimaru turned toward him.
"But you want my latest research on the Nerve Activation Technique in exchange. Does that mean you've already begun practising it?"
Ren kept his expression neutral. "Not yet. I developed several ideas after studying the material you gave me. I want to confirm whether my assumptions are correct."
"Is that so?"
Orochimaru watched him for several uncomfortable seconds.
His eyes seemed to peel through every layer of Ren's answer, searching for the truth beneath it.
Then he smiled.
"The data I gave you previously already contained my latest results. Progress has been limited since then."
Ren's fingers tightened slightly.
Orochimaru moved toward the inner laboratory and placed one hand against the security seal.
"But if you've truly discovered something new, then perhaps we should continue the research together."
The barrier opened with a low pulse of chakra.
Cold air spilled from the chamber beyond.
Rows of covered containers lined the walls. Surgical instruments gleamed beneath white lights, and several preserved arms floated inside transparent tanks.
Orochimaru was not offering Ren research notes. He was inviting him into the experiment itself.
Ren stared into the laboratory.
Helping Orochimaru carried obvious risks.
The man's curiosity had no moral boundary, and his interest in Ren had already grown far beyond ordinary cooperation.
But the Nerve Activation Technique was too valuable to abandon.
If Ren could extend Overload Pulse from forty-five seconds to one or two full minutes, his close-combat strength would rise dramatically. Combined with the White Fang's swordsmanship and Tsunade's monstrous strength, he could overwhelm most jōnin before they adapted.
Some risks were unavoidable.
If something went wrong, he could seek Tsunade's help afterward.
Assuming Orochimaru left enough of him to be treated.
Ren stepped forward.
"Fine. I'll work with you."
Orochimaru's smile widened.
For the next several days, Ren divided his time carefully.
Obito repeatedly dragged him and Rin to the training grounds to prepare for the Chūnin Exams. Obito was determined to prove himself, while Rin worried that one poor performance might cost their entire team a promotion.
Ren did not share their anxiety.
Most of the time, he sent a shadow clone to train with them while his true body practised the Nerve Activation Technique in isolated locations or assisted Orochimaru with increasingly dangerous experiments.
The system counted the shadow clone's training as his own. His techniques continued gaining favourability while he pursued other objectives.
It was efficient.
Perhaps too efficient.
Meanwhile, Might Duy passed Tajima's interview and officially joined the Mikami workshop.
Although he remained a genin, his physical strength and limitless energy allowed him to perform the work of four or five ordinary labourers. Tajima was so pleased that he increased the following month's production target from forty thousand bottles to fifty thousand.
If they reached that goal, Ren's wager with Tsunade might be settled ahead of schedule.
Four days after his return to Konoha, Ren was training with Obito and Rin when a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the field.
Minato Namikaze had been absent for several days.
Now he stood beneath the trees, smiling as though nothing had happened.
"Ren, Rin, Obito," he called. "Have you been behaving while I was away?"
Obito immediately rushed toward him.
Rin looked relieved.
Ren, however, remained still.
Minato was smiling, but there was exhaustion beneath his eyes. Dust marked the hem of his uniform, and a fresh cut crossed one sleeve.
More importantly, he was holding a sealed mission scroll stamped with the Hokage's personal mark.
Whatever had kept Minato away was not finished—and judging by the look he gave Team Seven, the Chūnin Exams were no longer their greatest concern.
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