The clang of steel rang out through the narrow street, crisp and sharp like a hawk's cry in the morning air.
Renji stood just outside a small blacksmith shop nestled behind a row of flower vendors in eastern Konoha. It didn't look like much—charcoal-stained walls, a faded sign, and a stooped old man hammering metal at the back—but Kagami had brought him here for a reason.
"This place isn't for show," Kagami said, stepping inside. "It's for those who want a sword that's more than decoration."
The forge's heat hit him like a wave. The air was thick with smoke and sweat. Each breath tasted of fire and iron.
The old man at the anvil didn't look up. "I told you, Kagami, I don't make toys for fresh genin."
"He's not like the others," Kagami said, motioning for Renji to step forward. "He's ready."
The old man's eyes flicked to the boy, scanning him head to toe. Then again—this time slower—at his hands. Callused. Balanced. Calm.
"You got the eyes of someone who's seen blood," the smith muttered. "But a sword's not a toy, boy. It's not a tool either. It's a part of you."
"I know," Renji replied. "That's why I'm not here to pick one. I'm here to make one."
The smith finally smiled, thin and sharp.
"Good answer."
It took two weeks.
Two weeks of helping the blacksmith melt down scraps of chakra-conductive ore, of hammering out the blade's spine by day and meditating by night to refine his sword forms.
The Template System responded to his devotion.
[Shanks Template Synchronization: 11.8%]
Swordsmanship efficiency improved.
Killing intent control enhanced.
Renji had already crafted his fighting stance around a one-handed saber—easier to mimic Shanks' style. While he didn't have haki or Shanks' monstrous strength, his blade didn't need to overpower. It needed to end fights fast.
Clean. Efficient.
He named it "Engetsu"—Crimson Moon.
It wasn't flashy. The blade curved just slightly more than standard chokutō, its hilt wrapped in faded red cloth and sealed with a chakra tag Kagami helped him etch. The edge shimmered faintly when chakra was poured through it.
Not for parading. Not for boasting.
Just for killing.
Kagami took him to the forest beyond the Naka River to test it.
A small squad of dummy constructs had been set up—wooden frames with chakra-core points designed to simulate body movement.
Renji stood at the center, wind ruffling his hair. His eyes were calm. Focused.
Kagami's hand rose.
"Go."
Renji blurred into motion.
His first slash carved through the nearest target's chakra node with surgical precision. No wasted movement. No dramatic flourish.
Pivot. Slice. Strike.
Within twelve seconds, every construct had collapsed, cleaved precisely at their core.
Kagami watched, arms folded.
"You've trained well," he said, stepping forward. "But real combat is ugly. It won't be this clean."
Renji wiped the blade and nodded. "That's why I won't rely on it alone."
Kagami gave a quiet grunt of approval.
Then his tone shifted.
"You've been followed lately."
Renji didn't pretend to act surprised. "Root?"
Kagami's lips tightened. "Yes."
"I lost them," Renji said. "Twice."
"That doesn't mean they've stopped watching." Kagami's gaze was hard. "Danzo sees talent as a weapon to claim—or break. If you draw too much attention too quickly, he'll mark you."
Renji sheathed his blade. "Then I'll stay in the middle for now. No sudden moves."
"But," he added, "I won't crawl either."
At the Academy, rumors spread quickly after a group of older students returned from a mock mission—bruised, limping, one of them with a broken arm.
"Bandits," one claimed. "They weren't supposed to be there! Our jonin sensei barely made it back with us."
But Renji's eyes narrowed.
He'd noticed a small detail others missed—Root operatives had been watching from a distance that day. No insignias, just presence. That team was a test.
Danzo was starting to feed false dangers into Academy missions to see who stood out.
Renji made a decision.
He began holding back in taijutsu duels. Deliberately misreading genjutsu signs. Letting others take credit in strategy assignments. It burned to play the fool, but the blade in his hand reminded him:
Survival came before glory.
One night, while training in silence at the Uchiha district's abandoned shrine, Renji's body froze mid-swing.
He felt it.
A sharp presence—cutting through his senses like a knife.
He spun around, blade half-drawn.
A tall man stood at the edge of the stone steps, arms folded, Sharingan glowing faintly beneath silver hair.
"I saw you training earlier," the man said. "Your stance is… familiar."
Renji remained silent. The stranger didn't feel hostile, but he didn't lower his guard.
"You've got Izuna's eyes," the man continued. "But you move like someone from far beyond this land."
Renji's heartbeat quickened.
"…Who are you?" he asked.
The man chuckled.
"I used to know your grandfather. I fought beside him during the early wars. I was too young to understand him then… but I understand what he tried to protect now."
The man stepped forward, offering no name, no threats.
"Don't waste that bloodline on hatred," he said. "The world's full of men who'll try to twist your power to serve their dream—or kill you before you threaten theirs. Don't become either."
He vanished in a flicker of wind.
Renji stood still for a long time.
Not even the Template System reacted.
Back at home, Kagami noticed his silence.
"You met someone," he said plainly.
Renji nodded.
"A man who knew Izuna."
Kagami's shoulders tensed. "Did he give a name?"
"No."
But Kagami's eyes turned distant. "There are only a few still alive who knew Izuna personally. And even fewer who'd approach you alone."
Renji raised his head. "Was he right, though? About power and dreams?"
Kagami looked at him with something like sorrow.
"Every shinobi is a pawn to someone's dream. The trick is knowing when you're being moved—and when to flip the board."
The next morning, a new notification from the system blinked silently in gold:
[Template Progression Unlocked — New Skill Acquired]
King's Stance – Passive
In combat situations, your presence generates subconscious suppression in opponents with lower mental fortitude. Stronger enemies sense it as leadership pressure.
Your battlefield composure is now enhanced. Fear resistance improved.
Renji stared at the glowing text for a long time.
It wasn't raw power. It wasn't a jutsu.
It was presence.
And for the first time… he felt it.
Not power over others—but power within himself.
The kind of power that said: I will not kneel. I will not waver. And I will not die for someone else's lie.
The forge was finished.
Now came the fire.