Shuriken Throwing

After Tobirama Senju left.

Renye took a short rest, then hurried to the training ground, unable to contain his eagerness.

This was his first time practicing shuriken throwing, and he couldn't help feeling excited.

In the ninja world, shuriken were a common weapon for shinobi. Throwing shuriken allowed one to attack enemies from a distance, making them perfect for sneak attacks and assassinations, delivering a silent, lethal blow.

In short, if you could kill an enemy with a ranged attack, why bother with close combat?

If you could ambush, then ambush—taking down the enemy was the ultimate goal.

Renye's heart raced with anticipation, imagining a future where his throwing skills were perfected, and on the battlefield, a single shuriken would take down an opponent. The very thought made his blood boil!

Renye took a deep breath to calm himself.

Then, he slowly raised his arm, leaned his body back slightly, adjusted his stance, and threw the shuriken with all his strength.

First training session—he hoped for a good start.

He didn't ask for much; just hitting the target would do, no matter the ring.

But reality was harsh, and ideals were sweet.

The shuriken traced a crooked arc through the air before embedding itself in the empty ground not far in front of the target.

It didn't just miss the bullseye—it didn't even hit the target at all.

The smile on Renye's face froze instantly. His small face flushed bright red, and a bucket of cold water seemed to douse his spirits.

He instinctively glanced around, and when he saw no one, he let out a sigh of relief and muttered under his breath:

"Good thing no one saw—that would've been too embarrassing."

He picked up another shuriken and started throwing again.

"Ahem, just an accident. Let's try again!"

Time and again, the shuriken either veered off from the bullseye or simply fell short mid-flight.

Sweat beaded on Renye's forehead, and his arm ached terribly from the repeated throws, but he still didn't give up.

In this perilous ninja world, one's own strength was always the most important thing!

Unlike other transmigrators, he didn't have a system. He could only rely on his own relentless effort to grow stronger, and to do that, he had to persist in grueling training.

Renye was actually grateful for his identity as an Uchiha. The Uchiha Clan surpassed other families in chakra reserves, ninjutsu talent, and combat prowess, and they also possessed the Sharingan, a Kekkei Genkai.

Apart from the Uzumaki and the Senju, no clan could rival the Uchiha.

If he had been reborn as a shinobi from an ordinary clan, that would have been a truly disastrous start—he wouldn't even know where to cry.

After all, the talent ceiling for ordinary clan shinobi was set in stone. No matter how hard they worked, they'd only ever reach Jonin level at best.

Talent determined the ceiling; effort determined the floor.

Well... except for those three in green spandex who used the Eight Inner Gates.

He didn't know how long he'd been at it, but Renye stood still again, took a deep breath, and steadied his mind.

This time, his gaze was especially determined, and the shuriken in his hand seemed to merge with him.

After repeated practice, he felt like he'd found the rhythm.

With a whoosh, the shuriken cut a perfect straight line through the air and struck the target firmly, right in the red bullseye.

"Finally succeeded!"

Renye plopped down on the ground, his arm aching fiercely, as if reminding him of the intense training he'd just endured.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, sliding down his cheeks to his chin and falling to the ground.

Though his body was exhausted, looking at the shuriken stuck in the bullseye, he showed a satisfied smile—the joy born from effort and persistence.

Seeing that the sky was growing dark, Renye rested briefly, then stood up to gather the shuriken scattered all over the ground, putting them back in their original places.

After doing all that, he dragged his tired body back to his room. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and he needed a good cold shower to ease the fatigue from training.

If you like this book, to avoid losing it next time, remember to add it to your bookshelf.

The afternoon's training made Renye understand that shuriken throwing wasn't something you could master overnight.

And this was just a simple stationary target. In battle, enemies wouldn't stand still like idiots.

"First, get the stationary target down," Renye mused over his future training plan.

Madara Uchiha had defected not long ago, so the Battle of the End Valley wouldn't happen anytime soon.

And it seemed Hashirama Senju had died just a few years after defeating Madara.

Renye guessed that Hashirama had suffered severe injuries in his battle with Madara, which led to his death...

The First Great Ninja War broke out around seventeen years after Konoha was founded. That meant Renye still had about ten years to develop.

"Ten years doesn't seem like enough..." Renye clenched his fist and muttered to himself.

Becoming a powerhouse in ten years was nearly impossible.

Ten years later, Renye would only be sixteen. He wasn't a cheat like Naruto or Sasuke, so improving his strength would be very difficult.

"Unless I awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan!" Renye's gaze flickered.

But he quickly calmed down—never mind the Mangekyo, he hadn't even unlocked a single Tomoe yet.

Thinking of this, Renye sighed helplessly. "Forget it, let's eat first."

So he headed to the kitchen and started making tonight's dinner.

Because of Tobirama Senju's request that morning, he'd deliberately cooked extra rice—two whole large bowls.

The dishes were still Mapo Tofu and Kung Pao Chicken.

Truth be told, he wanted to make something else, but the only ingredients at home were these.

He'd have to get Tobirama Senju to buy more later...

Just as Renye set the dishes on the table, Tobirama Senju walked in right on time.

He glanced at the four plates on the table and gave a subtle nod.

Not bad—these were the dishes he liked.

This time, Renye had split the food into two portions: one for himself, one for Tobirama Senju.

His excuse was that he had a cleanliness obsession and didn't like sharing a dish with others.

Tobirama Senju was fine with that—this brat was pretty sensible.

He naturally didn't want to eat from the same plate as a member of the Uchiha Clan, either.

At the table, neither of them spoke.

The Uchiha and the Senju obviously had no common ground, and neither was willing to start a conversation.

After the meal, Tobirama Senju picked up the bowls and chopsticks and headed to the kitchen.

"Uncle White Hair, there's no ingredients left at home," Renye reminded him.

Even if Mapo Tofu and Kung Pao Chicken tasted great, he couldn't eat them every meal!

Tobirama Senju paused mid-wash, was silent for a moment, then said:

"I'll buy some tomorrow... what ingredients do you want?"

"Anything's fine." Renye stood up and stretched. "I'm going back to my room."

Seeing Renye about to leave, Tobirama Senju quickly walked out of the kitchen with a glass of milk. "Drink the milk before you go back."

Renye was a bit surprised—bringing him milk again?

He hadn't expected the Old Man to be so thoughtful, knowing he was still growing.

He took the milk and downed it in one go, then returned to his room.

After a full day of training, his body was exhausted—he needed a good night's sleep.

Tobirama Senju looked at the empty glass, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.