Chapter 6: The First Test

*165 points left,* Ren calculated internally, his eyes scanning the classroom without really seeing it. *What’s the most efficient use?*

***Analysis complete,*** the system’s voice chimed in his mind. ***Recommendation: Activate the Sharingan.***

*The Sharingan?* Ren’s interest was immediately piqued. *Can I even do that with my current points?*

***Single Tomoe Sharingan. Activation Cost for Uchiha Bloodline Holder: 100 Points.***

***Double Tomoe Sharingan. Activation Cost: 500 Points.***

***Triple Tomoe Sharingan. Activation Cost: 2000 Points.***

The system displayed the options, the prices a stark reminder of the long road ahead. But 100 points was within reach. The benefits were undeniable. Even a single tomoe would grant him enhanced perception, the ability to track fast movements, and a photographic memory for any technique he witnessed. It was the ultimate foundation for learning.

*The sooner I have it, the sooner I can start truly growing,* he reasoned. Sasuke hadn’t awakened his until he was twelve. That was six years from now. Six years he could spend mastering its basic functions.

*System, activate the Single Tomoe Sharingan.*

***Activate Single Tomoe Sharingan. Cost: 100 Points. Confirm?***

*Confirm.*

***Ding! Exchange successful. Points deducted: 100. Remaining points: 65.*** Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel•fire.net

A sudden, intense heat blossomed behind his eyes, not painful, but overwhelming. It felt like a dam had burst, flooding his optic nerves with raw, unfamiliar power. He quickly shut his eyes, bowing his head as if bored by Iruka’s lecture on the Will of Fire. The sensation lasted for a full minute—a minute where the world was nothing but crimson heat behind his eyelids.

When it finally subsided, he cautiously opened his eyes. The world had changed.

It was… sharper. Hyper-defined. He could see the individual grains of wood on the desk in front of him, the faint dust motes dancing in a sunbeam, the almost imperceptible shift in Iruka’s posture as he gestured. His vision tunneled for a second, his focus instinctively locking onto a fly buzzing near the window. He could track every jittering, erratic movement with impossible clarity. And in the periphery of his vision, he could just make out a faint, blood-red tint.

*This is it,* he thought, a thrill running through him. *The Sharingan.*

He quickly closed his eyes again, focusing on the feeling of the chakra receding from his pupils. When he opened them a moment later, his vision was back to normal. He couldn’t risk anyone noticing. Not yet.

Satisfied but exhausted from the sudden chakra expenditure, he let his head droop back onto his arms. The drone of Iruka’s voice became a distant hum, and he slipped back into a light doze, the potential of his new power humming beneath his skin.

***

He didn’t know how long he slept, but he was stirred awake by a gentle shaking.

“Ren-kun? Ren-kun, wake up.”

He blinked his eyes open. Akane was leaning over him, her long chestnut hair brushing his desk. The classroom was nearly empty, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the windows.

“Akane-san?” he mumbled, pushing himself up. “What time is it?”

“It’s time to go home,” she said with a small, patient smile. “You slept right through the final bell. You must have been very tired.”

Ren looked around. Most of the students were gone. Sasuke was already at the door, ignoring the lingering looks from a few girls.

“Right. Thanks for waking me,” Ren said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Akane-san.”

“Hehe, see you tomorrow, Ren-kun,” she replied, her smile widening.

Their friendly exchange was the spark.

“UCHIHA REN!”

The roar echoed through the nearly empty classroom. Ren turned slowly to see Kenji, the stocky boy with the bowl-cut, stomping toward him, his face a mask of fury.

“Is there a problem?” Ren asked, his voice utterly calm.

“Problem? You’re the problem!” Kenji snarled, stopping a few feet away. “I told you to stay away from her! I won’t let some Uchiha pretty-boy think he can just waltz in and take what’s mine!”

The remaining students—Naruto, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji—immediately perked up, forming a loose circle around them.

“Ooooh, a fight!” Kiba grinned. “This oughta be good!”

“Yeah! Kick his butt, Ren!” Naruto yelled, always eager for a spectacle.

“Kenji, you idiot! Stop it right now!” Akane shouted, stepping between them. “I am not yours! Leave him alone!”

“Stay out of this, Akane!” Kenji barked, not taking his eyes off Ren. “Well, Uchiha? Are you just going to hide behind a girl? I heard you Uchiha were all geniuses. Or are you all just cowards?”

“How dare you!” Sasuke snapped from the doorway, his pride instantly pricked. He took a step forward, but Ren’s arm shot out, barring his path.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Ren said, his tone cold and final.

“Tch. He insulted the Uchiha name,” Sasuke shot back, but he hesitated.

“He’s right, you know,” Kenji goaded. “You can both come at me. I don’t care. I can handle two spoiled clan kids.”

Ren’s expression didn’t change. He looked at Kenji with flat, bored disdain. “Dealing with trash like you doesn’t require a team effort.”

With a wordless roar, Kenji charged. He was bigger, and he used his size, throwing a wild, powerful punch aimed straight at Ren’s face.

“Ren-kun, look out!” Akane cried.

Ren didn’t flinch. As the fist flew toward him, time seemed to slow. His right hand came up in a blur of motion. His palm snapped shut around Kenji’s incoming fist, stopping it dead an inch from his nose. The impact made a sharp *smack*.

Kenji’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to pull his hand back, but Ren’s grip was like iron.

“Wha—? Let go of me!” he grunted, his face turning red.

“Pathetic,” Ren stated. With a brutal yank, he pulled Kenji off balance. As the larger boy lurched forward, Ren drove his knee up hard into his stomach.

***OOF!***

The air exploded from Kenji’s lungs. He doubled over, clutching his abdomen. Before he could recover, Ren’s foot swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing onto the hard floor.

The entire exchange had taken less than three seconds.

The classroom was utterly silent, save for Kenji’s ragged, wheezing breaths. Everyone was staring, their mouths agape.

Ren looked down at the groaning boy. “Stay down.”

But Kenji, humiliated and enraged, wasn’t done. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up and launched himself at Ren’s legs in a desperate, clumsy tackle. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

Ren simply pivoted, letting the charging boy stumble past him. As Kenji blundered by, Ren’s left hand shot out, clamping around the back of his neck. He used Kenji’s own momentum to slam him face-down onto the floor, pinning him there.

“Still looking for a fight?” Ren’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper. He held Kenji down effortlessly. Then, with his free right hand, he formed his index and middle fingers into a rigid point. Chakra, a minuscule amount he’d only just learned to control, focused into the tip of his finger.

He didn’t look at Kenji. He looked at the wooden floorboards next to the boy’s terrified face.

***THWIP.***

The sound was sharp and clean. Ren’s fingers stabbed downward, piercing through the solid wood floor like it was soft clay. They sank in up to the second knuckle, leaving a perfect, neat hole mere inches from Kenji’s eye.

The room went deathly still. The only sound was Kenji’s sharp, terrified intake of breath. He lay frozen, staring cross-eyed at the fingers embedded in the floor next to his face.

Ren leaned down, his voice so quiet only Kenji could hear it. “The next time you bother me, or Akane-san, this won’t miss. Do you understand?”

Kenji could only manage a weak, terrified whimper, a single tear tracing a path through the dust on his cheek.

Ren pulled his fingers from the floor, stood up, and turned away without another word. He walked toward the classroom door, the circle of students parting for him silently. He didn’t look at their shocked, awed, or fearful faces. He didn’t look at Sasuke’s complicated expression. He simply collected his bag and left, the echo of his display of power hanging heavy in the air behind him.

The path of a powerhouse had begun with a single, definitive statement.

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