Naruto: The Mist Within-Chapter 111 - 110: Fragments

[ The Double Chapter is here! Sorry fo the delay, this period is a bit busy, but i'll keep my work daily, and when not, i'll recover the day after!

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The Past Three Months

The cadence of Ren's days had become an unrelenting metronome, driven by a discipline that allowed no reprieve. Each dawn began with the same rigorous routine: a ten-kilometer run around the lake's perimeter, an exercise now intensified with 30 kilograms of weight evenly distributed across his torso and legs. The challenge had grown, but so had my endurance, Ren thought, measuring every step, every breath, every heartbeat.

After the run, he moved to the lakeshore, where the early morning light refracted off the still waters. There, he began hand-walking.

The lake was not just a destination for swimming; it was also a place of introspection, where he honed his chakra control. He alternated between swimming laps and prolonged dives, holding his breath for increasingly longer durations, imagining himself moving as fluidly as the water itself.

Afternoons were no less intense, filled with endless sparring matches with Ganryu, showing is "fondness of Ren" in his own way.

Their bouts were ferocious dances, where every mistake was punished with precision.

Ganryu-sama is a tough opponent; his fighting style adapts quickly, but that forces me to think outside the box, Ren reflected as he picked himself up after a particularly hard blow.

Fuinjutsu was another constant in his days. Working alongside Tatsumi, Ren delved into increasingly complex seals. Ren was successfull starting modifying seals to make them more efficient, earning a rare nod of approval from the old master.

One of Ren's most ambitious goals was mastering the Shadow Clone, but his attempts still didn't produce the expected results. Each effort to create a shadow clone ended in a puff of smoke or an unstable clone that dissolved within seconds. "Too much chakra, or not enough," he noted in his journal. Despite the failures, he remained determined, seeing this as a crucial milestone in his training.

Ren's new projects also included learning the Lightning Release element. His initial attempts were rudimentary—small, unstable sparks of chakra that dissipated almost immediately. But training was teaching him the unique properties of this element: It's different from water or wind. Lightning doesn't flow or cut; it explodes and destroys, a chaotic force that defies control.

His evenings often ended in the laboratory, where Ren experimented with chemical compositions and methods for developing poison immunity. He began with diluted doses of toxins, carefully monitoring his body's reactions. His workbench was cluttered with vials of various colored liquids, neatly written notes, and detailed anatomical diagrams. Some bullet points had been crossed out and rewritten multiple times, reflecting his thoughts on Kurara's condition, who still struggled with jutsu.

Present

The laboratory was shrouded in a surreal dimness, lit only by the intermittent glow of a makeshift Tesla coil. Ren sat at the room's center, gripping two metal cables—one positive, the other negative. His fingers trembled as an electric charge coursed through his body.

"Amazing..." he muttered through gritted teeth, the sharp pain mingling with a sense of revelation. "The Lightning Release element is completely different from the others. It feels irrational, chaotic, and devastating!"

Another jolt hit him, causing his teeth to clench. The chakra flowing through his body merged with the electrical energy, amplifying the sensations. Now I understand why Kakashi was considered a prodigy at a young age, he thought, sweat streaming down his forehead. Mastering lightning requires a level of control that defies logic. It's a living energy that seems to resist every command.

Despite the pain, Ren continued his experiments. The coil emitted a constant hum as the discharges increased in intensity. Each electric impulse was an opportunity to better understand the element's essence.

"I must tame it," he murmured, "If I can control it, I can incorporate it into my style, turning it into a lethal weapon."

He closed his eyes, letting the pain transform into a steady stream of energy, a chaotic dance coursing through his body. He felt every fiber of his being resonate with the electrical energy, as if awakening something primordial.

Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind: the future, the village, his family. I'm not doing this just for myself. I must grow stronger...

The hum of the coil subsided, leaving Ren exhausted but resolute. "One day," he said with a weary smile, "I'll be able to generate this energy without a machine. But for now... this is a good start."

- - -

The mist surrounding the Kaguya Clan's headquarters felt denser than usual, as if reflecting the tense atmosphere within its walls. The clan members had gathered in a large circular hall, its walls adorned with ancient bas-reliefs depicting past battles. At the center, the clan leader, Ryoku Kaguya, sat upon a throne carved from gleaming white bones—a symbol of the clan's power and heritage.

"We cannot continue like this!" one of the advisors exclaimed, rising abruptly. "The Mist Village ignores us, keeps us at the margins! We deserve more—more respect, more influence!"

"And what do you suggest?" countered another, a man with a face deeply etched with wrinkles and battle scars. "Declaring war on the village? Bringing destruction to both sides?"

"War is in our blood," the first retorted, his tone charged with passion. "We are Kaguya! We are warriors, not politicians. This village fears us because it knows we are not like them!"

Other clan members murmured among themselves, some nodding in agreement, others shaking their heads in dissent. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, as though a single spark could ignite a conflict.

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"Enough!" Ryoku rose, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "We are not here to destroy each other. Our strength lies in our unity. Anyone who believes rebellion is the answer does not understand the cost of spilled blood."

The hall quieted, though the tensions lingered, palpable and unresolved. Yet in the shadows, a clan member, Kinryu Kaguya, observed the scene. His pale skin, masculine features, and sharp, sadistic gaze contrasted with the traditional twin red dots adorning his forehead—a trait shared by all members of the Kaguya clan. His dark hair was tied in two tight locks, framing his malicious smirk. When he stepped slightly into the torchlight, a sinister red glint flashed across his pupils.

A Sharingan.

Kinryu withdrew silently from the hall, his steps deliberate and measured. No one seemed to notice the change in him, but his intentions had strayed far from the clan's collective will.

- - -

Silence reigned in the Yuki Clan's home, broken only by the rhythmic sound of the wind against the windows. Yukiko sat by the hearth, her gaze fixed on the flames before her. Behind her, her mother, Ayame, wove strands of white silk—a habit that helped her think calmly.

"Yukiko," Ayame said, her voice gentle yet firm, "strange rumors are circulating."

Yukiko turned slightly, meeting her mother's worried eyes. "You mean the ones about the Kekkei Genkai?"

"Yes," Ayame confirmed, setting aside her loom. "Some say we are a danger, that the village shouldn't tolerate abilities like ours. Others... think the Yuki Clan should withdraw completely from village life."

Yukiko lowered her gaze, clenching her fists. "It's not fair. We've never done anything to threaten the village."

"Fear doesn't need justification," Ayame replied, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Promise me one thing, Yukiko. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't appear too strong, too special."

Yukiko nodded, but the weight of her mother's words seemed to crush her. She was tired of this continuous insinuations, yet she knew her mother was right. In that moment, the chill in the room seemed to deepen, as if Yukiko's emotions were influencing the very air.

- - -

The forge burned with an intense red glow, its heat radiating into the cold night. The old blacksmith, Takeshi, was bent over a blade, his hammer striking the glowing metal with rhythmic precision. Each blow was deliberate, honed by decades of craftsmanship.

"This one will be perfect," he muttered, watching the blade take shape. "Kurara... this will be your protection."

The sound of approaching footsteps broke his concentration. Takeshi looked up toward the forge's entrance and saw figures in the shadows, as still as statues. There were three of them, cloaked in dark mantles with masks reflecting the forge's flames.

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