The world looked different through red eyes.
Ren's vision sharpened, every detail clear. The flicker of firelight. The sway of birch leaves in the wind. The smallest twitch of Gojo's fingers as he toyed with a pebble. His single tomoe spun slowly, drinking it all in.
But clarity came at a price.
The cursed energy inside him raged like a storm, colliding with chakra in violent bursts. His hands shook. His breathing hitched. Even standing felt like balancing on a knife's edge.
Gojo tilted his head, grin wide. "How's it feel, Boss? New engine under the hood?"
Ren clenched his fists. "It feels… unstable."
Gojo chuckled. "Good. That means it's alive. Power that behaves right away isn't power worth having."
The next morning, training nearly broke him.
Ren tried coating his fists in cursed energy the way Gojo explained. At first, it worked—the air rippled faintly around his knuckles. But when he punched the log, the energy backfired, lancing pain up his arm. His bones rattled, his shoulder nearly dislocated.
He dropped to one knee, gasping.
Gojo crouched beside him, blindfold tilted. "Not bad for a first crash. But you're leaking. Half of that cursed energy went wild."
Ren gritted his teeth. "I'll fix it."
"Of course you will." Gojo smirked. "Because if you don't, you'll snap your arm clean off next time."
Ren scowled. "Great pep talk."
Days passed, and the strain didn't ease.
When he tried focusing only chakra, his control faltered. When he pushed only cursed energy, his body screamed in protest. Balancing both was worse. He often collapsed by dusk, too weak to stand, staring at the birch branches above as sweat soaked his hair.
Weak. Too weak. If I stay here, I'll die like the rest of them.
On the seventh night, he sat cross-legged by the stream, fists trembling on his knees. He forced himself to breathe slowly, letting chakra pool in his center, cursed energy spiraling around it. He imagined two rivers merging, currents crashing into each other.
Balance. Not war. Fusion.
The water under his feet stilled. He opened his eyes. Both energies pulsed together, steady for the first time.
The System chimed:
[Cursed Energy Control: Basic]
Ren's lips curled into a faint smile. Progress.
Gojo wasn't satisfied with meditation.
"Boss," he said the next morning, tossing Ren a kunai. "Time for a test. Show me something real."
Ren caught it, chest tightening. "A spar?"
Gojo smirked. "Call it a challenge. Land one clean hit on me."
Ren froze. Gojo was untouchable. Infinity meant nothing could touch him. But Gojo leaned against the birch casually, blindfold tilted, grin daring him to try.
"Don't worry. I'll keep it fair," Gojo added. "No Infinity."
Ren's eyes narrowed. "You swear?"
"Swear." Gojo raised two fingers. "Cross my heart, hope to—well, I don't die."
Ren exhaled, tomoe spinning. This is my chance.
The fight began.
Ren moved first, sprinting low, kunai flashing. He swung wide—blocked. Gojo's hand caught his wrist with lazy ease.
"Too telegraphed," Gojo said.
Ren twisted, cursed energy flaring along his arm. His fist slammed forward, faster than before. Gojo leaned aside, dodging by a hair.
"Better," he said cheerfully.
Ren didn't stop. He pressed forward with sharp, relentless strikes—chakra fueling speed, cursed energy coating each blow. Sparks leapt each time metal met flesh, the clash loud against the ruined stone.
But Gojo flowed around him, weaving like water. Every attack missed by inches. Every strike hit nothing but air.
Ren's chest burned. His arms screamed. He pushed harder.
Gojo grinned wider. "Come on, Boss. Show me the scary kid who survived hell. Not this tired academy brat."
Ren's tomoe spun faster. His vision sharpened. He caught the twitch of Gojo's elbow before it blocked, the faint ripple of air before his sidestep.
Predict. Read. Strike.
He feinted with chakra, kicking up dirt. Gojo tilted his head to avoid the obvious kunai slash. Ren pivoted, cursed energy igniting along his other fist—driving it toward Gojo's ribs.
Contact.
Gojo stepped back with a laugh, brushing his coat where the blow landed. "Well, well. The Boss bites."
Ren fell to his knees, gasping, arm trembling from the feedback. His knuckles bled, but his grin was sharp. He'd done it. He'd landed a hit.
The System chimed:
[Hybrid Strike — Acquired]
Gojo crouched, tapping his shoulder. "Not bad at all. Messy, sure. But messy is how kids grow into monsters."
Ren's grin widened. One step closer.
The following days built on that moment.
He practiced weaving chakra and cursed energy together, striking with speed and weight both. His fireballs burned longer, brighter, laced with a crackling edge that tore deeper into stone. His kunai, wrapped in cursed energy, cut cleaner than steel alone.
The Sharingan grew sharper too. Each spar with Gojo showed him more—angles, timing, openings. His single tomoe spun faster, hungry for every detail.
And though Gojo teased him constantly, there was a glimmer of respect in his grin now.
One evening, as the sun bled red over the forest, Ren sat by the stream, breathing hard from another day of training. His reflection stared back at him: small frame, sharp eyes, tomoe glowing faintly.
I'm still a child. But inside, I'm more. Chakra, cursed energy, the Sharingan. The clan is gone, but I'm not. I'll carve a path they never dreamed of.
Gojo dropped down beside him, stretching lazily. "Not bad, Boss. You're not snapping your bones every other punch anymore. That's progress."
Ren snorted. "High praise."
Gojo smirked. "Don't get cocky. You're jōnin-level in bursts, sure. But bursts don't win wars. Control does."
Ren nodded slowly. And control is what I'll master next.
The night wind carried the faint scent of fire from faraway villages. The world was restless, and he knew storms would come again. But now he had claws, and for the first time, he wasn't afraid to use them.
Gojo tilted his blindfold toward the stars, humming. "You've got a long road, Boss. But don't forget—you're not walking it alone."
Ren closed his eyes, the tomoe still spinning faintly. No. Not alone. Not ever again.