Pre-dawn light bled through the mist like watered ink, turning the world soft and gray. The riverbank was quiet except for the murmur of water over stones and the occasional chirp of a confused bird that hadn't learned proper timing yet.
Ren Urazaki woke to pain.
Not the sharp, sudden kind that makes you gasp—no, this was the deep, thorough ache that lived in bones and whispered, Remember yesterday? That was stupid. Let's never do it again.
Every muscle protested as he sat up. His shoulders felt like rusted hinges. His thighs screamed in languages he was pretty sure weren't human. When he tried to touch his toes, his hamstrings staged a full rebellion and his fingers barely made it past his knees.
"Ow," he muttered. Then, because optimism was apparently his default setting, "Pain equals progress, right? That's… that's definitely a thing people say."
He rolled onto his back, staring at the sky. The stars were fading, one by one, like someone was slowly turning off the lights. His breath plumed in the cool air.
Maybe I should've slept indoors. You know, like a person.
[Side Quest: Meet the Master of Flame Youth.]
[Reward: New Skill Slot + Affinity Boost.]
Ren blinked. "Oh, great. A quest. At—" He squinted at the sky. "—whatever ungodly hour this is." He sat up slowly, wincing. "System, could you at least include a map? Maybe some directions? A compass? Literally anything helpful?"
[Hint: Follow the loudest voice in the village.]
Ren frowned. "The loudest—"
From somewhere uphill, a voice boomed across the valley like a war horn made of pure enthusiasm.
"ONE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO! THE BURNING SPIRIT OF DISCIPLINE KNOWS NO REST!"
Ren stared in the direction of the sound. "...You've got to be kidding me."
The voice continued, somehow getting louder. "ONE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THREE! YOUTH WAITS FOR NO ONE!"
Well, Ren thought, pulling himself to his feet with a groan, at least I won't get lost.
The old training plateau sat on the cliffs overlooking the village like a scar on the mountainside—flat, barren, and completely exposed to the elements. The path up was steep enough to make Ren's calves catch fire halfway through, and by the time he reached the top, he was gasping like a fish that had made several poor life choices.
The view, though. The view was incredible.
The Hidden Flame Village spread below like a painting, rooftops catching the first rays of sunrise, smoke curling from chimneys in lazy spirals. Beyond the walls, forests rolled away toward distant mountains, their peaks still crowned with snow.
Ren took a moment to appreciate it. Then he noticed the other thing on the plateau.
Two figures were running laps. Fast laps. While carrying boulders the size of small children.
One was younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with a bowl cut so perfectly round it looked aerodynamic. He wore a green jumpsuit that somehow made him look both ridiculous and intimidating, his face locked in an expression of fierce determination.
The other was older, maybe in his thirties, with the same bowl cut and the same green jumpsuit, except his was shinier, as if the fabric itself had been polished. His eyebrows were thick enough to have their own weather system, and his smile—visible even from a distance—was bright enough to serve as a backup sun.
They ran in perfect synchronization, feet pounding the stone in rhythm.
"ONE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE!" the older one shouted. "REI! WHAT IS OUR CREED?"
"HARD WORK BETRAYS NONE, SENSEI!" the younger one yelled back, voice cracking slightly.
"CORRECT! ONE MORE LAP! LET YOUR YOUTH EXPLODE!"
They rounded the corner, boulders balanced on their shoulders like they weighed nothing, and the older one's gaze locked onto Ren.
He stopped.
Mid-stride.
The boulder hit the ground with a crash that probably registered on seismographs three villages over.
"YOUTHFUL SPIRIT SPOTTED!"
Ren flinched so hard he almost fell off the cliff. "Jesus—"
The man was suddenly right in front of him, eyes blazing with an intensity that felt borderline supernatural. His smile was blinding. Literally. Ren had to squint.
"A young warrior! Here to challenge the dawn! Tell me—" He leaned in, close enough that Ren could see his reflection in those impossibly white teeth. "—do you possess the FLAMES OF YOUTH?"
Ren opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "I—uh—I possess a concern for my personal safety right now?"
The man laughed, a sound like thunder wrapped in joy. "EXCELLENT! FEAR IS THE FIRST STEP TOWARD COURAGE!" He thrust out a hand. "I am Maito Genji, master of the Flame Fist style! And you are?"
"Ren. Ren Urazaki." He took the offered hand.
Genji's grip was like shaking hands with a hydraulic press. Ren felt bones he didn't know he had start to protest.
"URAZAKI! A FINE NAME! FROM THIS MOMENT—" Genji's grip tightened. Ren's vision blurred. "—WE ARE RIVALS IN YOUTH!"
Is my hand supposed to make that sound? Ren thought distantly. Pretty sure hands aren't supposed to creak.
[Temporary Mentorship Bond formed with Maito Genji (Legend Rank).]
[Note: This character is loud. Very loud. Prepare accordingly.]
Thanks, System. Real helpful. Would've never guessed.
The younger boy—Rei—jogged over, setting his boulder down with considerably more care. "Sensei, should I prepare the training equipment?"
"NO NEED, REI!" Genji finally released Ren's hand. Ren immediately checked if all his fingers were still there. They were, surprisingly. "OUR NEW FRIEND HAS ARRIVED JUST IN TIME FOR THE HUNDRED SUN PUNCH!"
Ren blinked. "The… what now?"
Genji's grin somehow got wider. "A TECHNIQUE TO FORGE THE SPIRIT! WE SHALL THROW PUNCHES BENEATH THE GLORIOUS SUN UNTIL ONE OF US COLLAPSES! SIMPLE! PURE! EFFECTIVE!"
"That sounds like heatstroke with extra steps," Ren said.
"HEATSTROKE IS MERELY THE BODY'S WAY OF ACKNOWLEDGING YOUR DEDICATION!"
This man is going to kill me, Ren realized. I'm going to die on a cliff, punching air, while a guy in a green jumpsuit yells motivational slogans at me.
And yet—
His fists clenched.
—Bring it on.
The sun climbed higher, turning the plateau into a skillet. Heat shimmered off the stone in visible waves, making the air thick and heavy. Sweat soaked through Ren's shirt within the first ten minutes.
Genji stood beside him, fists raised, smile unwavering. "BEGIN!"
They punched in unison.
One. Two. Three.
At first, it was easy. Ren's arms were sore from yesterday, but the rhythm was simple enough. Just throw punches. Don't think. Don't stop.
Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
The heat pressed down like a physical weight. Ren's lungs burned with every breath. His vision wavered, the horizon blurring into streaks of blue and gold.
Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.
His arms felt like lead. His shoulders screamed. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging, and he couldn't wipe it away because stopping wasn't an option.
Genji punched beside him, completely unbothered, as if the sun was just a minor inconvenience. "EXCELLENT FORM, YOUNG URAZAKI! BUT I SENSE HESITATION! LET YOUR SOUL SWEAT!"
"I think—" Ren gasped, "—it evaporated—already—"
Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.
His body screamed at him to stop. Every instinct begged him to collapse, to rest, to quit while he still had functioning limbs.
But something else pushed back. Something stubborn and burning, coiled tight in his chest.
No. Not yet. Not until I've given everything.
One hundred and ten. One hundred and twenty.
The world narrowed to fists and breath. Punch. Breathe. Punch. Breathe. The heat became part of him, a second heartbeat pulsing through his veins.
And then—
Something clicked.
His breathing synchronized with his strikes. Chakra, wild and uncontrolled until now, began to pulse in time with his heartbeat. It flowed through his arms, not shaped or molded but raw, like liquid fire racing through his blood.
His fists shimmered, a faint red-gold aura flickering around his knuckles.
[Endurance Check: Passed.]
[Skill Unlocked: Blazing Rhythm (Chakra-Breath Synchronization).]
[Description: Align your breath with your chakra flow, amplifying stamina and strike power. The longer you maintain rhythm, the stronger you become.]
Ren didn't notice the notification. He didn't notice the aura. All he knew was that suddenly, impossibly, he felt lighter.
One hundred and fifty. One hundred and sixty.
Beside him, Genji's expression shifted. The manic grin softened into something more focused, more serious. He watched Ren with the eyes of a man who recognized potential when he saw it.
This boy, Genji thought, burns without knowing he's on fire. Dangerous. Beautiful.
One hundred and seventy. One hundred and eighty.
Ren's vision blurred completely. His legs wobbled. His fists moved on instinct alone, muscle memory carrying him forward even as his brain shut down.
"Two hundred," he whispered.
His knees buckled.
Genji caught him before he hit the ground, one massive arm supporting his weight. "MAGNIFICENT! TWO HUNDRED PUNCHES UNDER THE MIDDAY SUN! YOUNG URAZAKI, YOU HAVE PASSED THE TRIAL!"
Ren tried to respond. What came out was a noise somewhere between a wheeze and a dying animal.
Rei appeared with a water skin, face impressed. "Sensei, he lasted longer than I did on my first attempt."
"OF COURSE HE DID!" Genji lowered Ren gently to the ground, propping him against a boulder. "HE CARRIES THE FLAMES! NOW REST, YOUNG WARRIOR! YOUR BODY HAS EARNED IT!"
Ren drank the water like a man drowning in reverse. It was warm, tasted faintly of leather, and was the best thing he'd ever consumed.
"Thanks," he managed. "For not… letting me die."
Genji laughed, sitting beside him. "DEATH IS MERELY THE UNIVERSE'S WAY OF SAYING YOU TRAINED TOO HARD! BUT TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY!"
I'm starting to like this lunatic, Ren thought, and immediately questioned his life choices.
Evening painted the sky in shades of purple and amber. The heat had finally broken, replaced by a cool wind that smelled of pine and distant rain. Ren sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the drop, watching the village lights flicker on one by one like earthbound stars.
Genji sat beside him, quieter now, the manic energy dialed down to something almost serene.
"Tell me, Ren," Genji said, voice surprisingly gentle, "why do you train?"
Ren thought about it. "Because I can't use ninjutsu. Because I'm weak. Because if I don't, I'll stay weak forever."
Genji nodded slowly. "I see." He looked out at the horizon, expression distant. "I was like you once. No talent. No skill. Every jutsu I attempted failed. My classmates called me 'Dead Last.' My instructors said I should quit."
Ren glanced at him, surprised. "But you're—"
"Legendary?" Genji smiled, but it was softer, sadder. "Yes. Now. But that legend was built on a foundation of failure. I survived not because I was gifted, but because I was stubborn." He placed a hand on Ren's shoulder, grip firm but gentle. "Power borrowed fades. Power earned burns forever. Remember that."
Something in Ren's chest tightened. He stared at his hands—bruised, bleeding, wrapped in dirty bandages.
So that's what 'Hot-Blooded Youth' really means. It's not about heat. It's about light. About refusing to let the world snuff you out.
[Hidden Attribute Revealed: Willpower Threshold Expanded.]
[Note: Mental fortitude increased. Resistance to despair and exhaustion enhanced.]
"Rest tonight," Genji said, standing. He stretched, joints popping. "Tomorrow, we begin proper training. And Ren?"
"Yeah?"
Genji's smile returned, bright and genuine. "Thank you for reminding me why I love this path."
Ren blinked. "I—what? I didn't—"
But Genji was already walking away, waving over his shoulder. "COME, REI! WE HAVE FIVE HUNDRED MORE LAPS BEFORE DINNER!"
Rei groaned but followed, muttering something about his sensei being insane.
Ren watched them go, then turned back to the sunset. For once, he didn't have a joke ready. Didn't have a sarcastic comment or a self-deprecating quip.
He just sat there, breathing, feeling the wind on his face and the ache in his muscles.
And smiled.
Ren's apartment was small—one room, a futon, a low table, and a window that didn't close all the way. The walls were thin enough that he could hear his neighbor snoring three rooms over. The floorboards creaked if you looked at them wrong.
It was perfect.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully wrapping fresh bandages around his hands. Each loop of cloth was deliberate, almost ritualistic. His knuckles were a mess—split skin, bruised bone, dried blood caked under his nails.
He stared at his hands like they were sacred tools.
Outside, the city hummed its evening song. Lanterns flickered in windows, soft and golden. Somewhere, a mother called her child in for dinner. A dog barked. Life continued, mundane and beautiful.
This world really does feel like that manga, Ren thought, half-smiling. Knock-off ninja village, over-the-top mentors, a system that turns my life into a video game. He flexed his fingers, testing the bandages. Guess I'm stuck playing the discount hero. Fine by me.
[System Reminder: Next Session with Maito Genji in 6 hours.]
"Six hours of sleep?" Ren muttered, lying back on his futon. "Luxury."
The ceiling had a water stain shaped like a kunai. He'd named it Greg. Greg was a good listener.
"Hey, Greg," he whispered. "Think I can actually do this? Become strong enough to matter?"
Greg didn't answer. Ceilings rarely did.
But Ren's hands were still clenched into fists, even as sleep pulled him under. His breathing evened out, slow and steady, the rhythm of someone who'd found their pace and refused to lose it.
Tomorrow would hurt. Tomorrow would test him. Tomorrow would probably involve more yelling than any human should be subjected to.
But tonight, Ren Urazaki slept with a smile on his face, dreaming of fire and punches and a path that finally felt like his own.
The stars wheeled overhead, patient and endless, watching over a boy who refused to stay down.
And somewhere in the dark, the system hummed quietly, recording every heartbeat, every breath, every stubborn choice to keep moving forward.
[Progress logged. Path of the Iron Fist: 4% complete.]
The night carried on, soft and infinite, waiting to see what tomorrow would bring.
[End Chapter 3.]