Each morning Renji's grandfather had his father guide his training, though the old man never missed a chance to throw a sharp remark. The words were harsh, but everyone knew it was really his way of teaching his son-in-law.
Afternoons were dedicated to the samurai sword style, while evenings returned to wooden sword drills, blindfolded basics, and endless repetition. Training once again found its rhythm. Sometimes his grandfather asked Chunshu to bring young samurai from nearby villages to spar with Renji. Slowly, the name of a little Uchiha swordsman began to spread through the region.
Renji's strength grew quickly, but his ninjutsu and genjutsu had stalled. He tried not to show it, yet inside he was anxious. Without progress, it felt like he was falling behind. At last he decided to talk to his mother, the only person who might truly listen.
He found her cooking and hurried to help. "Mom, let me do something. You work too hard. You're getting thinner."
She glanced at him knowingly. "You think your grandfather's training is wrong for you. You feel more like a swordsman than a shinobi. You want ninjutsu and genjutsu, don't you?"
Renji nodded at once.
His mother smiled faintly. "You think the foundation of a ninja is ninjutsu. You're wrong. Using techniques too early, too often, only damages the body. Chakra comes from life itself. That loss must be restored through food, exercise, and balance. Your grandfather is healing your hidden injuries and sharpening your body.
And who says you aren't training ninjutsu and genjutsu? Haven't you noticed your chakra control improving? What once took four techniques, now costs only the chakra of three. With that level of precision, you will master jutsu far faster than you realize.
You could study medical ninjutsu. That control is priceless there. Your senses are also keener. That will let you reach new heights in chakra transformation and manipulation. Your sensitivity already makes you nearly immune to most genjutsu. As an Uchiha, your illusions will also feel more real to others. Harder to see through, harder to break.
Ninjutsu itself is the easiest to learn. It follows rules written in scrolls. What your grandfather gives you cannot be written down. It is the experience of your body, the awareness of your own strength, the foundation of true power.
Whether samurai or shinobi, the body comes first. Sword or jutsu, both are just ways of using it. First refine yourself, then refine your art.
That is how your uncle trained as well. The difference is you listen. He never did. You ask when you don't understand. He stayed silent. I too once ignored these lessons. That is why I lived, and he died."
Renji's eyes widened. "Mother, I never knew I had an uncle. How did he die?"
Her expression softened with sorrow. "He was kind. His heart was pure. Always at odds with your grandfather. He wanted peace between our clan and the village. He was blinded by his ideals, and so he died. His name was Uchiha Kagami. To the clan he is a traitor, a name few will even speak."
Seeing Renji's shock, she gave a bitter smile. "I am not your grandfather's blood daughter. I was an orphan taken in by your grandmother's family. They raised me as their own. Now you see why your grandfather left Konoha. When your uncle betrayed the clan, your grandfather stepped down as elder. When Kagami was sold out by Konoha, your grandfather exiled himself.
So train well. Do not be like your uncle. Do not be like your father. Both fools in their own way. Now go. The kitchen is no place for you."
In the bamboo grove, Renji trained with his blade. His grandfather, watching from a chair, finally said, "Enough. From now on, four hours of sword practice is enough. The rest of the day is yours. Choose what you want to study." He rose to leave, but Renji caught his arm. "Grandfather, are you fishing today?"
The old man smiled. "What else would I do? Not many days left for me. Fishing keeps the heart quiet."
His health had been fading. His greatest joys now were training his grandson and sitting by the water. Sometimes Renji caught his mother crying alone. She knew the end was near. Renji swore he would give his grandfather something to be proud of before that day came.
Two years passed. Renji was twelve. His swordsmanship was sharp enough to spar evenly with his father, even if the man held back. His father seemed almost eager to be scolded more often, giving his father-in-law reasons to berate him.
Meals were always full of warmth. His mother cooked his grandfather's favorite dishes, only for the old man to praise her as if she were her mother reborn, before turning on his son-in-law with sharp words. Yet he himself ate less and less. His mother would stare at the half-empty bowl long after he left the table.
Feeling time slipping away, Renji threw himself into developing the Rasengan. Water balloons and rubber balls became his tools, traded from nearby villagers. In three days, he neared completion.
At last it was done. Excited, he dashed down the mountain, faster than ever before, and gathered his family outside. With one hand he formed the spinning chakra sphere and slammed it into the ground. The earth cracked with a sharp sound.
His grandfather, too weak even to speak, opened his eyes and smiled faintly. His lips moved in silent praise, and he gave a sidelong glance at Renji's father as if to say, "See? That is how a true student grows." His mother's eyes filled with tears, pride mingling with grief.
Renji realized then that the training, the exile, all of it had been secondary. His grandfather simply wanted to spend his last years with his family.
The day soon came. The old man gathered them close. With trembling hands he touched his grandson's face, smiled, and whispered with fading breath. "Do not blame me, and do not hate the clan. To sit in that seat is to think for all. Live well. Your boy is strong. Find him a good wife. Your husband is useless, but his heart is kind. He will protect you. Take me back to the clan lands. Burn me and return my ashes. I miss your mother. I want to be with her. Live…"
The funeral was simple. A few samurai, villagers, and family. At his request, Renji's mother lit the torch but could not bring herself to throw it. His father held her, took the torch, and cast it onto the pyre. Flames roared upward. His mother wept, his father held her, and Renji stared into the fire, filled with sorrow and resolve.
It was time to return home. Time to see what awaited in Konoha.
.
.
.
The tale of the Uchiha does not end with these words. Beyond this point lies the Forbidden Archive, where the storm rages fiercer, and the shadows reveal truths not yet told. For those who dare to walk ahead of fate, the sealed scrolls await your hand.
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