Chapter 44: Edge
The morning was quiet, a stark contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of the training yard. The light from the sun was pale, almost ghostly, filtered through a blanket of thin, high clouds that didn't promise rain—just an endless stretch of gray. The air was stagnant, the sound of the wind whispering through the trees barely reaching their ears.
Ren stood at the back of the group, hands tucked behind his back, arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but his senses were sharp. The chatter around him had a dull, distracted tone. A few of the other kids, groggy from the early start, rubbed their eyes or yawned, while others were already murmuring among themselves, speculating about what was going on.
Yuji, however, wasn't here to waste time.
"Listen up!" His voice cut through the noise like a blade. "New incentive."
That snapped everyone to attention. The murmuring stopped, and all eyes were on Yuji as he paced back and forth, looking every bit the drill sergeant. His expression was stern, but there was a glint of something else in his eyes. He knew what he was about to announce would catch them all off guard.
"The first kid who masters the three basic jutsu—Clone, Substitution, Transformation—will get a reward," Yuji continued, his gaze sweeping over the group. "You'll get a C-rank jutsu scroll. No tests, no tournaments. Just the first one to get it right, gets it."
Ren didn't flinch, didn't even blink. He simply listened. But the words rang in his ears, and in that silence, something inside him clicked.
A reward.
That was it. That was all it took.
It wasn't about the glory. It wasn't about proving something to anyone else. The reward didn't mean recognition. It wasn't about feeling like part of the group. What mattered was the tool itself. A C-rank jutsu scroll.
Ren's mind immediately started processing. That's a key. A way to gain leverage.
The Three Basic Jutsu were foundational. Essential. But a C-rank jutsu? That was a step up. Something that could give him an edge, something tangible that could make a difference when he needed it most. It didn't matter how the others looked at it. It didn't matter if they saw it as an opportunity, a chance to prove themselves. For Ren, it was simply that—an opportunity.
He didn't need to belong, and he certainly didn't need to prove anything to anyone. All that mattered was survival and growth. Master these basic jutsu, and there's a chance to move ahead. Get something better. Get stronger.
Around him, the kids were starting to react. Some were excited, their faces lighting up at the possibility of the prize. Others wore expressions of doubt, their shoulders slumping as they realized the challenge ahead of them. Ren could almost hear their internal dialogue—I can't do it. I'm not good enough. It's too hard.
But not Ren. He wasn't distracted by the chatter or the noise. His thoughts were clear and focused, a sharp edge cutting through everything else. He had been training for weeks, pushing himself every day to master the Clone Jutsu, struggling with the Substitution Jutsu, and wrestling with the Transformation Jutsu. He wasn't some prodigy or natural-born genius, but he was methodical. He was patient.
This is just a step. One more hurdle to overcome. And then… the reward.
Yuji's voice broke through his thoughts. "This is your chance. First one to do it gets the scroll. So don't waste time."
With that, Yuji turned and walked off, leaving the kids to their own devices. Ren didn't need to hear more. His path was already clear. He walked away from the group, eyes scanning the yard briefly before settling on the distant trees, where he could focus without distractions.
---
The next few days were a blur of training. Ren had already mastered the Clone Jutsu, a technique that had taken him days to get right. But the Substitution and Transformation jutsu were still elusive, always just out of reach. He could feel the difference between what he was doing and what he should be doing. His chakra flow wasn't quite right, the timing off by fractions of a second. He could substitute with a log or a rock, but the Transformation? It was harder to grasp. His attempts to transform into anything other than a blurry copy of himself resulted in more embarrassing moments than success.
But Ren was nothing if not persistent. Each failure was a lesson, a sign of what he needed to adjust. Control the chakra. Be one with it. Let it flow freely, but guide it with precision.
One night, long after the others had gone to bed, Ren sat in the center of his room, legs crossed beneath him, his breathing slow and measured. The moonlight filtered through the paper windows, casting soft shadows on the floor. His hands were poised in the familiar sequence of hand signs. He breathed in deeply, aligning his chakra to the rhythm of his body.
Ram. Snake. Tiger.
The familiar pulse of chakra coursed through his body. He could feel the heat in his chest, the thrum of energy building in his stomach, but he didn't rush. He focused, drawing the chakra through his arms, to his hands, pushing it out to the tips of his fingers.
"Clone Jutsu."
The smoke billowed around him, thick and clouded. For a moment, he thought he'd messed up again, but then—he felt it. The distinct weight of another presence in the room.
When the smoke cleared, there were two Ren's sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. His clone blinked, looking at him curiously.
Ren exhaled, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn't perfect yet—there was still some flickering in the edges of the clone's form, but it was stable. It stood on its own. No more distortion. He had done it. Again.
He wasn't just another failure, another orphan. He was building himself up, piece by piece, just like the jutsu. The next steps were already in his mind—Substitution and Transformation. The C-rank jutsu was still there, waiting in the wings. He wasn't just doing this for the reward. He was doing this because he needed to.
He needed to grow.
---
The following morning, Ren's mind was sharp. He could feel the weight of the task ahead of him, but it didn't scare him. As he joined the others in the training yard, he was already several steps ahead, visualizing the next part of his progress.
Yuji walked around, observing the kids' attempts, nodding here and there as some of them got closer to their goal.
Ren wasn't there to impress anyone, though. He was there for one thing only—the reward. And he'd earn it.
---
Fifteen days passed, not in leaps, but in steps. Bruised knuckles. Missed meals. Chakra exhaustion.
Ren moved in silence, studied in silence, and failed in silence—until he didn't.
By the fourteenth night, his Clone no longer puffed out like lumpy shadows. His Substitution stopped placing him inside bushes or shallow creeks. His Transformation wasn't flawless, but it held.
He never announced it. That wasn't his style. He didn't ask for praise. Praise wasn't currency here. Results were.
---
When Yuji gathered them the next morning, the field had the chill of dew on stone. The sky hung low, heavy with quiet.
"You've all had fifteen days," Yuji said simply, arms folded behind his back. "I said the first to master the three basic jutsu would earn a reward."
The kids leaned forward. Kota glanced sideways at Ren but said nothing. A few older boys stood tall, expecting recognition.
Yuji paused a beat longer, then let the words fall.
"Ren."
A stir moved through the group like a wind through long grass. Confused faces. Surprise. A couple of narrowed eyes.
Ren didn't move at first. Then he stepped forward—calm, steady, hands behind his back like he'd seen shinobi do.
"You are the first to complete all three techniques," Yuji continued. "Not perfect. But functional, consistent. Real."
Ren met Yuji's eyes. There was no pride in his own gaze—just the alert stillness of someone who understood that an opening, once given, must be taken.
Yuji nodded once. "Your reward is not a scroll. Not yet."
He turned, and for the first time, the faintest hint of something—respect? amusement?—touched the corners of his expression.
"You'll be allowed to enter the archive . Pick one C-rank jutsu to learn. That choice is yours."
Ren blinked once.
Not given. Chosen.
It meant more this way.
He inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment.
"Understood."
Yuji turned back to the group. "For the rest of you—keep working. The reward may be gone, but the goal isn't."
Ren stepped back, returning to the line. He could feel eyes on him, but they didn't stick. He didn't want them to.
All he wanted now… was to see what jutsu might be waiting behind that flap of canvas.
- - -
The building wasn't what Ren expected.
It stood like an old fortress near the rear of the Genin Corps' compound—stone-faced, iron-barred windows, a heavy wooden door reinforced with seals. This wasn't a library. It was a vault of knowledge. A place where information had weight.
Yuji had given him a slip of parchment with his name and the Hokage's insignia burned in wax. One-time entry. No second chances.
Inside, it was colder than outside. Rows of shelves. A single desk manned by a bored, aging shinobi with round glasses and deep lines around his mouth.
"You're the kid," the man said without looking up. "Make it quick."
Ren nodded. "Yes, sir."
"You get one C-rank. No more. And you're supposed to bring your own ink and scroll. Don't tell me you came empty-handed."
Ren hesitated. "…I didn't know."
The man sighed—a long, theatrical thing—and shoved a blank scroll across the desk.
"You copy it yourself. You damage the original, you lose the privilege. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
The man waved a hand toward the shelves. "C-rank is that row. Don't take long."
Ren stepped into the aisle, feeling strangely out of place. Each scroll was sealed in a wooden tube with a tag denoting the jutsu's name, rank, and classification—Offensive, Defensive, Utility, Chakra Control, and so on.
Some of the names sparked curiosity—Leaf Gale, Shadow Shuriken Technique, Water Release: Surface Ripple. But he walked past them.
He wanted something different. Something useful.
His eyes paused on one tube:
Chakra Suppression Technique
C-Rank / Chakra Control / Utility
For infiltration, concealment, or evasion.
He pulled it free, feeling the weight in his palm. It wasn't glamorous. It wouldn't win fights. But it might save him from one.
Back at the desk, the librarian opened the tube, placed the original on a weighted stand, and handed Ren a brush.
"Do not smudge," the man said. "And copy every stroke exactly. This is not calligraphy club."
Ren got to work.
The technique wasn't flashy. It described in detail how to dim one's chakra signature by regulating flow, smoothing spikes, and drawing it inward like a tide. It required fine control—something Ren was only starting to understand.
It took him two hours to copy. His brush hand ached by the end. His first draft had an error. The librarian made him do it again.
When he finally finished and dried the scroll, he bowed deeply.
The librarian gave him a gruff nod. "You'll mess it up the first dozen times. Maybe the first fifty. That's how it works."
Ren tucked the copied scroll into his shirt.
"That's fine," he said, voice steady. "I've got time."
He stepped out into the fading light, the chill of the archive still clinging to his sleeves. No one waited outside. No one congratulated him.
And that, too, was fine.