Chapter 45 : The Weight of Cloth
Ren stepped out of the archives and into the fading sunlight, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him. The late afternoon air was cooler now, carrying the scent of dust and ink from the old building. For a moment, he just stood there, blinking as his eyes adjusted.
Yuji was waiting outside, leaning against the low fence that lined the path. His arms were crossed, and he was chewing on something—a dried plum, maybe. When he saw Ren, he gave a small grin.
"You're an official genin now," Yuji said casually. "So come by tomorrow morning and pick up your headband, alright?"
Ren blinked. "That's it?"
Yuji shrugged. "Yeah. What'd you expect? A parade?"
Ren opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn't really know what he'd expected. Something more ceremonial, maybe. Something that felt like it mattered. Instead, it felt like someone had just stamped a piece of paper and moved on.
Yuji pushed off the fence and stretched. "I've seen some kids cry when they get theirs," he said, smirking. "Don't worry, I won't judge if you do."
Ren didn't laugh. He gave a faint nod instead, unsure what he was supposed to feel. Pride? Relief? All he felt was tired.
Yuji noticed. His smirk faded a little.
"Hey," he said, voice lower now. "You earned it. After everything… you made it."
Ren looked down at his hands. They were scarred and calloused. Dirt beneath his fingernails. A healing cut across his knuckle from training. They didn't feel like the hands of a hero, or even a proper shinobi. Just a kid's hands—shaking a little from the weight they carried.
He nodded again. "Thanks."
Yuji clapped him on the shoulder. "You're one of us now. Don't be late tomorrow."
Then he turned and walked off down the path, whistling softly.
Ren watched him go, then turned in the opposite direction and started walking—no destination in mind. The streets were quiet this time of day, the usual bustle of vendors and children giving way to the hush before nightfall. Shadows stretched long across the dirt paths, and the light painted the buildings in gold and orange.
He passed a training field, where a group of younger academy students were still practicing under the watchful eye of an instructor. Their shouts and laughter echoed faintly, a contrast to the silence inside his chest. Ren slowed, watching as one boy attempted a spinning kick and fell flat on his back. The others burst into giggles.
Ren didn't smile.
He kept walking.
Eventually, he reached a small bridge overlooking the stream that wound its way through the village. The water was low and clear, revealing the smooth stones beneath. Ren sat down on the edge of the bridge, legs dangling over the side, and stared at his reflection.
His face looked older than it should. Not by years, but by weight. By grief. The circles under his eyes hadn't gone away since the ambush. Since Aki and Taro.
He could still feel the blood on his hands. Hear the crack of that final kunai. Smell the smoke in the trees.
And now… he was a genin.
It didn't feel like a reward. It felt like a quiet verdict: You lived. Keep going.
Ren clenched his jaw. "Aki would've gotten here first," he muttered. "He would've joked about it. Taro… he probably would've tried to look cool and failed."
He swallowed hard. The wind shifted, ruffling his hair. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang. Dinner time for some family, maybe.
He looked down at the water again and spoke softly.
"I'll carry it. I'll make it mean something."
The wind answered with silence.
---
The next morning came faster than he expected.
Ren stood in front of the Hokage Tower, staring up at its curved walls and red-tiled roof. The building was taller than he remembered—imposing, like it was watching him.
Inside, the mission desk was quieter than usual. Only a few genin teams loitered near the side walls, chatting or waiting for assignments. A chunin behind the desk looked up as Ren approached.
"Name?" the man asked, flipping through a scroll.
"Ren."
The man scanned the list, then gave a nod. He turned, walked to the back, and returned with a small wooden box. He placed it on the counter and slid it forward.
"Congratulations. Welcome to the ranks."
Ren hesitated for a moment, then reached out and opened the box.
Inside was a single item: a dark blue cloth with a metal plate attached. The leaf symbol glinted in the morning light.
The headband.
He picked it up slowly, almost reverently. The cloth felt rough beneath his fingers, and the metal was cold. He held it for a moment, unsure what to do with it.
"Most wear it on their forehead," the chunin said. "But there's no rule. Some tie it to their arm, around the neck, even the belt."
Ren nodded vaguely and stepped away from the counter. He found a bench by the wall and sat down, headband in his lap.
For a long time, he just looked at it.
It wasn't heavy. But it carried something. Something that wasn't metal or cloth.
It was a promise.
He tied it slowly around his forehead, fingers fumbling with the knot. It took him two tries to get it right.
When he stood, the headband sat snug against his brow, pressing gently into his skin.
A few nearby genin glanced at him, then looked away.
Ren walked out of the Hokage Tower without a word.
He didn't feel stronger. Or smarter. Or ready.
But he was moving forward.
And that, for now, was enough.
---
Ren found Kota crouched near the edge of the old training field, just past the last patch of cleared grass. The younger boy was tossing pebbles at a hollow tree stump, brow furrowed, tongue poking slightly out from the corner of his mouth as he lined up each throw like it was life or death.
Most of the pebbles bounced off with a dull thunk. One rolled straight back toward him. Kota groaned, rubbed his arm, and picked up another stone.
Ren smiled faintly and walked over. "Tree winning again?"
Kota startled, nearly dropping the pebble. He turned—and his eyes immediately landed on the new forehead protector tied neatly across Ren's brow.
"You got it…" Kota breathed, scrambling to his feet. "You're really a genin now?"
Ren nodded once. "Picked it up this morning."
Kota's face lit up like a paper lantern. "That's awesome! Did they give you a sword? Or like—some secret jutsu scroll or something?"
Ren gave a small laugh. "They gave me a headband and a pat on the back. That's it."
Kota blinked. "That's… kinda lame."
"Yeah," Ren said with a shrug. "Still felt like something, though."
The wind stirred the grass around them. The distant sound of kids training echoed faintly from the far side of the field, but here, it was quiet.
Ren sat down on the stump Kota had been using for target practice. "Hey, Kota. Sit down for a sec."
Kota hesitated, then dropped beside him, brushing dirt off his knees.
"I'll probably start getting missions soon," Ren said, glancing down at his wrapped hands. "So you might not see me around as much."
Kota's smile faded a little. "Oh…"
Ren looked at him. "That's why I want you to take it slow, alright? Don't push yourself too hard. I know you've been stressing about that three-month thing Yuji mentioned."
"But he said—" Kota began, but Ren cut in gently.
"Yuji was trying to scare us. Make us work harder. There's no real three-month deadline. You're seven. You've got almost two whole years of support left before anyone expects you to be a genin."
"Wait… really?"
Ren nodded. "Yeah. You'll still get the stipend. You've got time."
Kota's shoulders relaxed. He looked down at his hands, then back up. "So then… why were you training so hard?"
Ren let out a breath, slow and quiet. "Because I'm ten. Normally, once you hit ten and you're still not a genin, the stipend stops. But since we're war orphans… I get a bit of extra time. Four more months, give or take. After that, it's mission or nothing."
Kota stared at him. "I didn't know."
"You weren't supposed to," Ren said with a crooked smile. "You're a kid, Kota. You should still be playing with sticks and pretending they're swords. Not worrying about money or missions."
Kota went quiet for a while, his eyes fixed on a line of ants crawling up the side of the stump. Then, in a smaller voice:
"So… I really have time?"
"You do." Ren placed a hand on his head, ruffling his messy hair. "And you're going to use it right. Train, yeah. But also rest. Laugh. Grow up with some light in you, okay? Don't let the fear eat you."
Kota scrunched his face and swatted Ren's hand away, but the color returned to his cheeks. "You sound like Juro-sensei when you talk like that."
"Hope I'm not as grumpy."
"Not yet," Kota said, grinning now.
They sat there for a moment longer, the light shifting gold as the sun began to fall behind the trees. Cicadas hummed somewhere beyond the field. The wind carried the scent of warm earth and summer leaves.
Then Kota asked, almost in a whisper, "You'll come back from your missions, right?"
Ren turned toward him. The question landed heavier than it should have.
He didn't answer right away.
"…Yeah," he said finally, voice quiet. "I'll do everything I can."
Kota held out his pinky.
"Promise?"
Ren looked at the offered finger, hesitated… then smiled. He reached out and linked his pinky with Kota's.
"Promise."
- - -
Later that day, as the sun dipped behind the treetops, Ren sat alone on a weathered bench at the edge of the park. The laughter of younger children echoed from a distance, but he wasn't really listening. His eyes were on the ground, lost in the tangle of thoughts that always followed big moments.
He was a genin now.
So why didn't it feel like enough?
"You look like someone just told you the world's ending," came a familiar voice.
Ren looked up to see Juro-sensei approaching, hands in his pockets, his usual calm expression tinged with something softer.
"I guess I was just… thinking too much," Ren said, sitting up straighter.
Juro raised an eyebrow. "That can be dangerous."
Ren chuckled under his breath. "I just finished talking with Kota. Told him not to push himself too hard."
"Good advice," Juro said, settling onto the bench beside him. "And what about you? What've you been up to these past two months?"
Ren hesitated, then spoke. "I've been training every day. Mostly alone. Studied everything I could from the archives. Practiced chakra control. Sparred with the older kids whenever they let me. And I passed the test."
Juro nodded slowly. "So I heard. Congratulations, Ren. Becoming a genin in just two months is impressive."
Ren blinked at the praise, surprised.
"But," Juro added, "it also means your foundation isn't as deep as others. Most kids take two years before they're ready. They build slowly—form, control, patience. You climbed fast, and that's admirable. But speed always comes with risk."
"I understand," Ren said quietly.
"Good. Because from now on, your mistakes might cost more than bruises." Juro glanced at him. "Never underestimate your opponent. Even if they look weak. Even if they're younger. Be calm. Be sharp. That's how you stay alive."
Ren nodded, the weight of those words sinking in. He didn't argue. He couldn't.
"Actually," he said after a pause, "I was studying a jutsu from the archive—a C-rank one. It's called the Chakra Suppression Technique. I thought it might be useful."
Juro gave a soft hum of surprise. "That's a tricky one for your first jutsu. Most kids start with something flashy."
"I wanted something useful."
Juro smiled faintly. "That one's useful, alright. But it's not easy. The key is subtlety. You can't just stop your chakra flow. You have to quiet it—like calming a heartbeat. Suppressing it without blocking it entirely. If you try too hard, you'll just disrupt your own circulation."
He paused, then leaned forward slightly.
"Try it now. Focus on your center. Feel your chakra like a thread of water running through you. Then… try to thin it. Gently."
Ren closed his eyes, sitting cross-legged on the bench. He inhaled slowly. Focused. He imagined his chakra flowing like a river, pulsing through his limbs. Then, carefully, he tried to mute it—not stop it, just hush it. Like dimming a flame without snuffing it out.
A few seconds passed. Then Juro nodded. "That's enough."
Ren opened his eyes, his breath slightly shaky. "Did I do it?"
"Your presence faded for a moment," Juro said, sounding impressed. "That's better than most on their first try."
Ren smiled, proud but still uncertain. "Why do you think it was a good pick?"
Juro gave him a thoughtful look. "Because you don't know your elemental affinity yet."
Ren blinked. "Oh. Right…"
The thought hit him all at once. Of course. He'd seen it in the archives. There were ways to figure out your chakra nature. One of them—chakra paper. He sat up straight.
"Wait," Ren said, "the chakra paper—"
"Exactly," Juro said, reaching into his flak vest. He pulled out a folded piece of white paper and held it out. "This is yours."
Ren stared at it, hesitant. "Isn't this… expensive?"
"It is," Juro admitted. "But consider it an apology."
"For what?"
Juro looked off into the distance. "For dragging you into Uchiha matters. You've already seen too much for a kid who didn't grow up in the clan. I know that wasn't fair."
Ren took the paper carefully. It felt smooth, almost weightless, but he could already sense a strange tension within it.
"You just push chakra into it, right?"
Juro nodded. "Just enough to activate it. It reacts to your chakra nature—burns, crumbles, soaks, splits, or wrinkles depending on the type."
Ren held it in both hands and closed his eyes. Focused. He guided a small amount of chakra to his palms, letting it bleed gently into the paper.
Nothing happened.
Ren blinked, confused. The paper remained perfectly still—no burning, no tearing, no sign of elemental reaction.
He looked at Juro. "Did I do it wrong?"
Juro's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "No… I felt your chakra move. It just didn't react."
They both stared at the paper for a long moment.
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What do you guys think his elemental affinity is telle in the comments. Give a review okay.