The ruined watchtower was crumbling stone, cracked earth, and a pale birch tree stubbornly growing through the floor. To villagers, it was nothing but rubble. To Ren, it was freedom.
No elders. No teachers. No clan politics. Just silence, Gojo's lazy humming, and space to grow strong.
Ren started with fire.
He sat cross-legged, weaving hand seals with small, careful fingers. "Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!" He inhaled deep and spat a puff of flame that fizzled on the dirt. Smoke curled up, leaving nothing but embarrassment.
Gojo leaned on the doorway, clapping slowly. "Adorable. Like a candle on a cupcake."
Ren ignored him. His lungs burned, his chakra coils stung, but he ran through the seals again. This time, the fireball swelled to the size of a melon before collapsing. The moss under it blackened.
Better. Still weak.
Don't force it. Flow. He adjusted his breathing, shaping chakra more carefully. The next fireball lasted longer, hanging in the air before fading.
One step forward.
Chakra control came next.
The birch became his test. Ren pressed chakra into his soles, walked up the trunk—and promptly crashed onto his back. He got up, tried again, and fell harder. His palms split, his knees scraped, but he refused to quit.
By the seventh day, he clung upside down on a branch, hair dangling, grinning despite the bruises.
Water was worse. The stream mocked him with every plunge. By the sixth day, he managed three steps before sinking. By the twelfth, he staggered across without falling, collapsing on the opposite bank in triumph.
Gojo clapped, tilting his blindfold. "Bravo! One small step for shinobi, one giant leap for soggy kids."
Ren spat out water. "Not enough."
Gojo didn't correct hand seals. Chakra wasn't his domain. What he gave Ren were lessons in how to think.
"Chakra is water in pipes," he said one night, flicking pebbles into the fire. "Cursed energy? Bad vibes shoved into wires. Different flavors, same principle—flow and control."
Ren listened closely. "So… if chakra is fuel, cursed energy is… negative emotion?"
Gojo smirked. "Exactly. Hatred, fear, regret, pain. Most people leak it unconsciously. Sorcerers weaponize it. You've got plenty of fuel after what you've lived through, Boss."
Ren's expression tightened, but he nodded. Fuel I can use.
Gojo jabbed a thumb at himself. "Now, don't think you can do what I do. Infinity? Untouchable tricks? That's mine. Special technique, family bloodline. You can't copy it."
Ren met his grin with a sharp stare. "Then what can I do?"
Gojo's smirk softened. "Reinforce. Coat your body in cursed energy. Wrap weapons in it. Mix it with your chakra. You won't be untouchable, but you'll hit harder, cut deeper, and survive longer."
That night, Ren practiced channeling chakra through a kunai. Then cursed energy. At first, the blade only rattled, his hands trembling from the clash. But by dawn, the kunai gleamed faintly, the metal sharper in his grip.
Weeks turned into rhythm.
Ren hunted animals in the forest, practicing traps and ambushes. He dug shallow pits, set tripwires, and laid kunai to fall where enemies would step. Gojo sometimes brought strangers—wandering bandits, mercenaries drunk on stolen sake.
One evening, three of them stumbled toward the tower.
"Lost, brat?" one sneered, scarred jaw twisting.
Ren pressed his heel into a shale shelf. The brittle stone collapsed, sending all three tumbling into a ditch. A kunai snapped down on a wire, landing inches from a throat.
"Your patch," Ren said coldly, "is the ditch now."
The bandits scrambled away, swearing.
Gojo clapped lazily. "Elegant. You didn't fight—you decided where they'd lose. That's how a boss thinks."
Ren's lips twitched. Exactly.
By the end of the month, his fireballs were steady, his steps on water held, and his chakra signature faded so low even Gojo had trouble finding him. He was growing stronger—but it wasn't enough.
Gojo saw it too. One night, he crouched in front of Ren and tapped his chest.
"You've got chakra handled. But cursed energy? That'll give you teeth. I'll drip mine into you. Just enough to spark." His grin faded to something serious. "Warning: it'll hurt like hell."
Ren's hands clenched. "Do it."
Gojo pressed two fingers against his sternum.
Cursed energy surged into him. Fire and ice tore through his body, grinding against his chakra like two storms colliding. His vision blurred, his veins burned, and he screamed.
Endure. Pain is temporary. Weakness is forever.
The System roared in his mind:
[Cursed Energy Awakening: Initiated]
[Hybrid Path: Sovereign of Two Energies]
Ren gasped as crimson light filled his vision. A single tomoe spun slowly in each eye.
Gojo wiped sweat from his temple, smirking. "Well, well. Boss just got interesting."
1 Tomoe — Awakened!
That night, Ren tested what he'd gained. He coated a kunai in cursed energy, slashing at a log. The cut was cleaner, deeper. He wrapped cursed energy around a fireball—it flared brighter, held longer.
He even tried to mimic Gojo's untouchable aura, raising a thin hesitation field. It lasted two heartbeats before collapsing.
Gojo shook his head, amused. "Don't bother with Infinity, Boss. That trick's mine alone. But what you've got? Chakra and cursed energy together? Nobody else in this world has that. You're building something new."
Ren's chest still ached, but his lips curled. Two rivers. Two powers. One body. If I master this, even destiny won't know how to stop me.
Gojo leaned against the birch, grinning. "Congratulations. You're officially the scariest seven-year-old in Fire Country."
Ren closed his eyes, the tomoe spinning faintly behind his lids. For the first time since the massacre, he didn't just feel alive—he felt dangerous.