Renji stood in the center of the training field with a proud, unshakable stance. He looked like a king among children, daring everyone to come at him, ready to beat them all until they cried.
"Enough. At present there is no one here who can withstand even a single strike from him."
The voice came from Uchiha Ming, Renji's teacher. That statement alone confirmed what everyone had just witnessed. Renji had crushed an entire generation with one blade.
"I thought you were not the type to fight for pride. Turns out you are still full of a youth's fire." Uchiha Ze laughed from the side.
"Brothers sparring is fine, but the two of you take it this far? Maybe I should give you both a good beating." Though he scolded them, pride gleamed in his eyes. His students were dazzling, and that glory reflected back on him.
The elders had arrived long before. They had not stepped in because this was the younger generation's game, a test of strength, an open duel.
But if it went any further, it would turn ugly. Better to step in now.
Ming had declared Renji the first genius of his age, while Ze reframed his arrogance as nothing more than the boldness of youth. After all, what young man was not reckless.
Renji understood. This was all about appearances. Win or lose, one still had to show respect to one's brothers. But he was no fool. His purpose in staging this spectacle was clear.
He wanted to return in a blaze of strength, making his name impossible to ignore. He wanted momentum, the kind that would carry him into the future when he sought to build his own power.
"Everyone has gathered here and even the streets are empty. Young people truly do love a spectacle. But you have forgotten your duties. Aside from the Fourth Division, the rest of you are dismissed."
The one speaking was Uchiha Sa, his voice booming as he dispersed the crowd.
Uchiha Duantian sighed, but Ming stepped forward again. From a scroll he drew a sword and handed it over.
"You are walking your own path. Renji pursues the way of the warrior's sword. You and I, we walk the path of the ninja blade. Your weapon no longer matches your talent. This sword is called Breeze. It was forged by the same master who crafted Renji's. Take it."
Ze chuckled. "I had also prepared a blade for you, but compared to Ming's this one is better. A gift from a senior cannot be refused. Accept it."
Duantian bowed and received the sword. Strapping Breeze at his side, he held his old blade in both hands, as though preparing to lay it to rest. He bid his farewells and walked away.
Ming turned back to Renji.
"So much noise for the simple appointment of a squad captain. You turned it into a grand martial tournament. If you ever become a division commander, will you try to overturn the whole of Konoha. What is it you really want."
Renji had not spoken yet when Retsu and Yan walked over. Retsu clapped his shoulder and Yan smiled knowingly.
They understood his intent and they supported him. Renji felt their encouragement and decided not to hide anything.
If he wanted his plans to work, he needed masters to shield him. His uncle the clan head was bound by duty. His father was leaning toward foolish ideals of peace.
Neither could help him. But his teachers, perhaps they could.
He bowed. "It has been years since I last saw the three of you. Today is the perfect day. We would like to invite our masters to a meal at the old place. Yan's cooking you know well, and Retsu has already prepared everything. We only waited for the sparring to end to ask you properly."
Sa laughed first, throwing an arm around Retsu. "Then you better have wine ready." He started toward the old training ground.
Ze grinned at Yan.
"I bet you already fought Renji. You are still young. Come to me when you have questions. You have only visited four times in these years. Retsu practically lived at my house for months. You remember my taste in food, yes. Come, hurry, feed me."
Ming dismissed the Fourth Division with a wave.
"Rest today. Report tomorrow morning for new assignments. Disperse." He nodded at Renji, giving him leave to go.
The meal was warm, filled with old camaraderie. Afterward Renji served tea with a practiced hand, a skill he had learned from his grandfather in the mountains.
When the cups were full, he spoke plainly.
"Masters, I spent years away from Konoha. Aside from Yan and Retsu I have few friends. Now that I hold a position of command, many of the younger clansmen will resent it. In the work ahead there will be resistance and refusal. To overcome that I had no choice but to prove myself with strength.
If they doubt my power, we fight. If they doubt my ability, then we test our squads against one another. I have shown my strength. Next I will prove my ability. I intend to carry out a sweeping purge of our patrol sector, rooting out spies and suspicious elements. A new officer must make noise. This is how I will make mine."
Ming's eyes narrowed.
"So all this sparring, and now a grand purge. Do you seek only fame."
Renji bowed his head respectfully.
"You give me too much credit, teacher. I seek nothing so complicated. I only want results. Without position, one cannot act. To change the relationship between clan and village, first one must be able to speak for the clan. To speak for the clan, one must earn the right to be heard.
Elders' protection is not enough. True recognition comes from strength and accomplishment. That is all I wish to build. Nothing more."
Ming stood slowly.
"A fine answer. Then I will look forward to your results." He turned and left. The other two masters voiced their support before departing as well.
Yan leaned close, frowning.
"You say purge but you really mean to stir up Konoha. Are you just looking to trouble the high council."
Renji smiled back.
"Trouble. Of course not. We are only doing our duty." He snapped one leg off his stool with a kick and laughed.
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Renji's tale does not sleep with this page. The next clash, the next revelation, the very pulse of the future, already beats in hidden chambers. To the ones who dare carve ahead of fate, the path has been marked with fire. Step into it here: patreon.com/PurgatorialPoet