Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

Kushina stretched her arms above her head and let out a satisfied sigh. "That was fun. I should spar with you more often—most people don't know how to deal with fūinjutsu in a real fight."

"Most people aren't you," Renjiro muttered, shaking his head as he wiped the last of the dust from his tunic. His ribs still ached from where she had kicked him earlier, and his body felt sluggish. He'd definitely need some rest after this.

Kushina grinned. "True. But you could get there. If you keep training like this, you might even be able to beat me one day."

Renjiro gave her a sceptical look. "You're not that old, Kushina. You'd still be kicking my ass twenty years from now."

Kushina laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing through the quiet training grounds. "You are right, I would."

Renjiro sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his limbs.

Kushina must have noticed because she gave him a knowing smirk. "Heh. I can see it now—your body's screaming at you, isn't it?"

Renjiro scowled. "I'm fine."

Kushina leaned forward, peering into his face. "You look like you're two seconds from keeling over."

He waved her off, already turning toward the exit of the training ground. "I just need to rest."

Kushina watched him for a moment before shrugging. "Suit yourself. But don't forget—you asked for this."

Renjiro snorted. "Remind me to never ask you for training again."

Kushina's grin widened. "Oh no, you will. Because now you're too stubborn to stop until you actually beat me. So I guess we will be at it forever then."

Renjiro huffed but didn't argue. Kushina then returned to her residency leaving Renjiro in the training ground. He took a deep breath and started toward home, walking through the quiet streets of Konoha.

The village at night was peaceful, the glow of lanterns casting soft, wavering shadows across the stone paths. Most people were already asleep, though here and there, a few shinobi patrolled the streets, nodding at him in passing. The usual hustle and energy of the village was subdued, replaced with the quiet hum of crickets and the distant murmur of the wind rustling through trees.

Yet, despite the calm surrounding him, Renjiro's mind was far from quiet. His thoughts lingered on the spar with Kushina, replaying every moment of it, analyzing each exchange, and trying to decipher the gap between them.

'It wasn't just her speed or her technique—it was how natural it all was.'

Kushina had overpowered him effortlessly, weaving between offence and defence with practised ease, as if she were simply breathing.

There had been no wasted movement, no hesitation, just absolute confidence in her abilities. And the most frustrating part? She had done it without tapping into her Jinchūriki powers. At least he didn't think she did.

Renjiro scoffed under his breath. If she had actually gone all out, he wouldn't have even lasted as long as he did.

'And we're supposed to have a real spar later in the future? '

He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. 'That's going to be a nightmare.'

But as much as he wanted to groan about it, there was no denying the excitement that bubbled beneath his frustration. The challenge was clear. If he wanted to stand a chance against her or anyone else in the future, he would need to grow stronger—not just in raw power but in creativity.

Blood fūinjutsu was still new to him, but the possibilities were endless. Kushina had already demonstrated that it was more than just a tool for sealing—it was a weapon, a shield, a trap, a means of controlling the battlefield in ways most shinobi wouldn't expect.

'Can I take this even further?' Renjiro's brow furrowed in thought. The Uzumaki had always been masters of fūinjutsu, but even they had mostly used it in predictable ways. What if he applied a more unconventional approach? Could he mix it with his own fighting style? Could he incorporate his Sharingan to enhance the seals in some way?

His mind raced with possibilities. Blood seals were fueled by the user's life force, meaning they had a direct connection to the caster's chakra and intent. Could he take advantage of that?

Renjiro flexed his fingers absentmindedly, feeling the slight sting where he had repeatedly drawn blood. He had been too slow forming the seals during the spar, but that was something he could fix with training. His Sharingan had already given him an edge, allowing him to observe how Kushina did it with such efficiency. If he could refine his own method and make the process second nature, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn't be so helpless next time.

His lips curled into a small smirk.

'What's the point of a goal if it's easy?'

A challenge was just another obstacle to overcome. He had already fought one Jinchūriki—granted, that had been in the heat of battle, where survival had pushed him past his limits. But this? This was different. This was deliberate.

He just needed to train harder.

Renjiro steeled himself, exhaling sharply through his nose. He wasn't going to back down. Not from this.

As his house came into view, he allowed his muscles to relax slightly, already anticipating the comfort of rest. But the moment his eyes landed on his doorstep, his entire body tensed once more.

Someone was waiting for him.

The dim glow of the lantern above his door cast long shadows across the figure's sharp features. He stood tall and rigid, arms crossed, his presence as imposing as ever. Even without seeing the crest on his back, Renjiro would have recognized him instantly.

Fugaku Uchiha

The future clan head stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he waited in the quiet. The faint glow of the lantern above Renjiro's door barely illuminated his face, but the sharpness of his gaze cut through the darkness.

Renjiro exhaled slowly, forcing his body to stay relaxed despite the sharp shift in the atmosphere. 'What is he doing here?'

Fugaku was not the kind of man to make casual visits. If he was here, waiting for Renjiro specifically, then that meant something important was about to happen.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Fugaku-san," he greeted, keeping his voice neutral.

Fugaku inclined his head slightly. "Renjiro."

A beat of silence passed between them. The air felt heavier now, as if something unspoken was pressing down on them both.

Then, Fugaku spoke.

"We need to talk."

Renjiro's fingers twitched slightly, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He met the older man's gaze head-on, his mind already running through the possibilities of what this conversation could be about.

But whatever it was, he had a feeling that this night wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.

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