Chapter 16: Momentum
Seeing Minamoto Ren forced to halt his charge and fall back on ninjutsu instead, Namikaze Minato felt a flicker of triumph.
It was clear: Ren didn't know many ninjutsu techniques. Otherwise, he wouldn't have countered a wide-area Wind Release jutsu with something as narrow and linear as Water Release: Wild Water Wave.
"Wind Release: Pressure Damage!"
Minato doubled down, striking while the iron was hot.
If wind-style suppression was effective, then relentless ninjutsu bombardment would keep Ren completely locked down. Minato had no intention of giving him breathing room.
"Tch."
Ren clicked his tongue as he glanced at Minato, who now stood fifty paces away.
He was already getting a headache.
The future Yellow Flash—even before learning Flying Thunder God—was essentially a walking, miniature artillery platform.
He didn't become strong because of Flying Thunder God.
He became even scarier after he already was.
With no better option, Ren ramped up the power of Wild Water Wave, flooding the field with mist and water, blotting his form from Minato's vision.
Minato didn't let up.
As soon as one jutsu ended, he immediately began weaving signs for the next.
That was what suppression looked like—relentless, uninterrupted pressure.
But he was still young, still slightly inexperienced.
After using Pressure Damage, Minato transitioned into Wind Release: Tornado Hurricane—a technique he had only recently learned.
His hands moved just a second slower than usual.
And on the battlefield, a single second was all it took to die.
"Style Two: Yokozuna!"
From behind the water curtain, a tall figure surged forward with terrifying speed.
Minato's pupils dilated. He had just begun to exhale—
—when that cold, deadly glint of steel reached his eyes.
"No good. I'm too late."
His reflexes were extraordinary.
In a split second, he abandoned his jutsu, drew a kunai, and twisted to meet the strike—desperately finding the one angle where he could parry.
Clang!
The metal rang out, sharp and deafening.
The force rattled Minato's entire arm—his fingers went numb, and the kunai nearly slipped from his grip.
"I carry the name of a genius—I can't lose here!"
Minato gritted his teeth, re-tightened his grip, and pushed back.
But what greeted him was Ren's half-amused smirk.
The fight was already decided.
Ren had forty years of kenjutsu experience drawn from a lifetime in another world. If he couldn't win a close-range exchange, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew as their weapons clashed over and over.
Ren advanced step by step, blades flashing.
Minato was forced to retreat again and again, his footwork growing less stable.
Watching from the sidelines, Hiruzen Sarutobi shook his head.
"Minato has lost."
He wasn't just guessing.
In taijutsu, there's a critical concept: "momentum" (势, shi).
And Hiruzen could clearly see—Minato's momentum had broken.
This wasn't about raw strength or speed, but the accumulation of advantage.
Only seasoned fighters could recognize it.
Sometimes two shinobi seem evenly matched—trading blows endlessly.
But after eighty or ninety exchanges, one of them suddenly loses their head.
Why? Because their momentum was eroded—blow by blow—until the end was inevitable.
On the field, Minato felt it too.
Ren's strikes weren't heavy, but each slash came at an angle that left him off-balance, uncomfortable, a half-step behind.
That was the pressure of real kenjutsu.
And Minato, future Fourth Hokage that he was, had the instincts of a beast.
He might not understand the technique behind Ren's swordplay, but he could feel it—if the fight continued like this, he would definitely lose.
So he made a choice.
He couldn't beat Ren in close combat.
But what if he gambled everything on a surprise—used Ren's own movements as a cover to form hand signs and cast a jutsu?
A bold plan. Risky, but not impossible.
Minato's eyes sharpened with resolve.
He was just about to act when—
Thunk!
Ren lightly bonked him on the forehead with the hilt of his blade.
"Don't even think about weaving hand seals. If I wanted to end it, that first strike would've put you to sleep."
Ren sheathed his sword and smiled.
Minato clenched his fist in frustration… then slowly loosened it.
He understood.
Ren was right.
The momentum behind that first slash had been terrifying—clean and decisive. It should've sliced through both him and his kunai in a single stroke.
Ren had held back.
"…I lost."
Minato admitted his defeat calmly.
Hiruzen pressed the stopwatch.
1 minute, 30 seconds.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Hiruzen applauded gently, a warm light in his eyes.
To see new talents like these emerging…
It gave the old Hokage hope for the future.
Minamoto Ren and Namikaze Minato performed the Seal of Reconciliation, and the cheerful atmosphere between them quickly returned.
Minato wasn't the kind of person who couldn't accept defeat. And Ren—who knew what this man would become in the future—had no intention of underestimating him, even though he had won today.
Besides, there was no conflict of interest between them, not for now. In the future? Who could say. But at the moment, they could very well be friends.
"Your swordsmanship is impressive. No wonder you were able to kill a jōnin."
After completing the reconciliation seal, Minato extended his hand again.
"You're not bad yourself. Let's spar again sometime."
Ren took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He meant it. He was genuinely curious to see if he had any aptitude for space-time ninjutsu. Who knew—maybe he could learn the Flying Thunder God technique one day.
"Told you so! No way Mizudori could beat Big Bro Ren!"
Nawaki smirked proudly, as if he were the one who had just beaten Minato.
"Ren-nii, did you go easy on him? You totally could've wiped the floor with that blondie in thirty seconds."
Hyūga Haining chimed in, ever the one-man fan club.
"Not helpful for team morale. Keep it shut."
Ren clapped a hand over Haining's mouth, his eyes gleaming with mock menace.
"Minato, you head home for now. Ren and I have some things to discuss.
Nawaki, Haining—you two go too. Tsunade won't be back for a few days, and Hyūga Yokohachirō's still busy holding a funeral for his kid."
Hiruzen dismissed them casually, waving them off until only he and Ren remained.
The training grounds fell silent, save for the ANBU still hidden in the shadows, ever watchful in their duty to guard the Hokage.
Hiruzen looked at Minamoto Ren with growing satisfaction.
He saw himself in this boy—another shinobi from a humble background who had climbed up with grit and talent.
And Ren had more than just skill—he had shown loyalty, value, and a bond with his comrades.
In wartime, such talent was priceless.
"Ren," Hiruzen said with a gentle smile, "you're already capable of serving as a Tokubetsu Jōnin. With Tsunade's unit now disbanded, you're effectively a free agent."
"So let me ask you—would you rather join the ANBU, or lead a genin squad in the village military corps?"
There it is.
Ren's heart tightened slightly.
This was the question he'd been waiting for all day.
The Hokage's choices might have been framed like options, but there were unspoken traps in both. Still, he had to choose.
"Lord Hokage, I wish to join the ANBU."
Ren bowed respectfully.
"Oh?" Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, voice thoughtful. "Is it because the war's too cruel for you? Or is it something else…"
Of course.
Ren had expected this kind of probing. It wasn't just about what he chose—it was why.
"Neither," he replied calmly.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed, intrigued. "Then why?"
Ren's voice softened, no louder than a feather brushing the ground.
"Forgive my boldness, Hokage-sama… But is life truly the most precious thing there is? Or are there things greater than life itself?"
The question wiped the smile from Hiruzen's face. His expression grew solemn.
"There are."
"I believe," Ren said, meeting his gaze, "that the thing I hold above life… is the same thing you hold dear."
"As you've seen—I'm not afraid of death. I don't fear war. What I fear is seeing her broken. And you… are her symbol."
Hiruzen's entire body tensed.
This boy—at such a young age—already had this kind of conviction?
To let someone like that burn out and die on a battlefield…
It would be Konoha's loss. No—its tragedy.
"Go home and rest today. Report to me first thing tomorrow."
Hiruzen left without another word.
They hadn't spelled anything out…
But they had said everything.
Ren understood well: politics is the art of implication. Say too much, and you lose your leverage. Say just enough—and you create space for trust.
As for what "her" meant?
It could be the Hidden Leaf Village itself…
Or it could be the system Sarutobi Hiruzen had poured his life into building.
Either way, Ren's words made his loyalties clear:
He pledged himself not just to the Hokage, but to the very ideals and structure of Konoha.
And that—more than strength, more than skill—was the answer Hiruzen had wanted to hear.
With this, Ren had secured his passage into ANBU.
And now, his ambition—like wildfire—began to spread.
He knew it clearly:
His time had come.