Naruto: Reborn With An AI Chip

A week passed in the blink of an eye.

Team Renjiro had spent every moment immersed in a strict and structured routine. Their mornings were dedicated to completing missions that sharpened their teamwork and battlefield coordination.

Afternoons were spent on intense training at the village's training fields. Their daily schedule was so packed that Renjiro even dipped into his personal savings each night to treat the squad to a hearty meal—an effort to keep morale high and spirits fueled.

By the end of the week, his wallet was on life support—barely hanging on and almost completely drained.

But in the world of shinobi, sincere effort—when directed properly—never goes unrewarded.

And the fruits of their labor had begun to show.

Long-term techniques like improving hand seal speed or training in the Body Stimulation method were still off the table. Those methods would take months to teach, even if Renjiro wanted to—which he didn't.

They were worlds apart from something like Soru. Just because he could use these advanced systems didn't mean others could.

Take Mind Net, for example: the only reason Renjiro could use it at all was because Arkain had analyzed it, improved it, and then directly installed the framework into Renjiro's brain.

For someone else to learn it the traditional way? They'd need not only exceptional sensory perception but also mastery of Lightning Chakra Nature. That alone made it nearly impossible. Even if someone met those requirements, the time and dedication needed to reach Renjiro's level would be enormous.

So, for now, the team's greatest gains had come from mastering Soru—a technique Renjiro had developed and taught them with careful precision.

And their efforts paid off.

Thanks to his detailed instruction—unsurprising, since he was the technique's original creator—even Maemon, who had always lagged behind in Taijutsu, managed to barely grasp the basics of Soru by the end of the week.

Now, with all three teammates able to use Soru at least once per day—before their bodies inevitably gave out from exhaustion—that phase of training was complete.

With that milestone reached, Renjiro turned to the next stage: strengthening their fundamentals.

Over the past week, Arkain had been working hard in the background. It had been analyzing the fighting styles and training habits of Maemon, Mari, and Tsugami, running thousands of simulations, studying every movement, and comparing them against better versions.

The results?

A detailed list of flaws—some minor, some deeply rooted. Movements that broke the natural rules of the body. Bad habits caused by personal quirks. Small execution errors that seemed harmless but added up over time. None of them were deal-breakers, but together, they quietly held each of them back from their full potential.

Renjiro took Arkain's data, refined the corrections, and began working with each teammate individually—breaking down their mistakes, fixing their form, and helping shift their mindset.

The results were eye-opening. Even Mari and Tsugami—who had always believed their techniques were nearly perfect—were shocked by how many errors they had been making.

Even more surprising than Arkain's corrections was that Renjiro noticed things they hadn't even seen themselves.

With a confident smirk, Renjiro said: "I'm a Chunin. You think I got here without earning it?"

Tsugami scratched his head, clearly confused: "Well… I'm a Chunin too, but I've got plenty of flaws."

Renjiro didn't even blink and replied: "I'm a team leader Chunin. There's still a long road ahead before any of you catch up to my level."

"You damn bastard!" Maemon snapped, unable to hold back. Renjiro's smug face was just too much—and the longer he looked at it, the more it annoyed him.

---

Once he had explained all the needed corrections, Renjiro walked over to a nearby tree and stood under its shade. He took a deep breath and sat down beneath the roots, falling into quiet thought.

The truth was—he had flaws too, and plenty of them.

And now was as good a time as any to examine his own strengths and weaknesses.

Mobility? Covered—thanks to Soru, he was one of the fastest Chunin in the village.

Battlefield awareness? Unmatched. With Observation Haki, Heart Net, and Combat Assistant Mode, his perception was on a level that even veteran Jonin would admire.

But offense and defense… that was a different story.

His attacks were too limited and not powerful enough. He didn't have a true finishing move—something strong enough to end a fight in one hit.

That gap was the reason he added a sword to his toolkit in the first place. It helped, a little.

His swordsmanship, while originally based on the simple moves Meri had taught him, had grown stronger under Arkain's guidance. But even with that improvement, it was still basic—efficient, but not deadly. It lacked the precision, power, and cutting force of a real sword style.

Against average enemies, it worked fine. But facing a truly powerful opponent—a Special Jonin or a strong Elite Chunin—he'd be in trouble.

So, he had tried to fix that weakness with Lightning Release: Thunder Ball—a ninjutsu he had spent days mastering.

But in the end, it was a letdown.

The technique wasn't strong enough and, even worse, almost impossible to use in real combat.

The main problem came from his own weak foundation: hand seals. The old Renjiro hadn't taken being a shinobi path seriously and barely practiced the basics of ninjutsu. He had ignored the hand seals that were the core of every technique.

Now, the current Renjiro was paying the price—having to relearn everything from the start.

And in battle, there's no room for a shinobi who messes up their hand seals.

Whenever he needed it most, he couldn't activate it in time. Thunder Ball—a technique he had worked so hard to master—was useless in a real fight.

His slow hand seals made it fail before it even started. Against weak enemies, he didn't need it. Against strong ones, he couldn't use it quickly enough.

The result? Renjiro hadn't used the Jutsu even once in an actual fight.

"Ahhh... If only you had focused on training—even just the basics…" He sighed inwardly, as if scolding his past self.

There was no shortcut. Not for this. Until he seriously improved his hand seal speed, Thunder Ball would stay as nothing more than a flashy but useless technique—perfect on paper, worthless in battle. The bitter truth gnawed at him.

"What the hell am I supposed to do about this…?" Renjiro muttered in frustration.

But Arkain couldn't fix problems without clear instructions. Vague questions gave vague results. The AI needed details—goals, tasks, settings, not random complaints.

"How should I solve this problem…" He trailed off, sinking deeper into thought.

"Wait—" He suddenly froze. A spark flashed in his mind, sudden and sharp.

"Daydreaming… dreams... Genjutsu..." Renjiro's eyes lit up: "That might work."

Of the three main shinobi arts—Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, and Genjutsu—he already had the first two. But Genjutsu? That was his blind spot. Almost nothing in his skill set.

But among the four scrolls he had gotten from the Hokage's office, one contained the basics of Genjutsu. Just the foundation—but that was enough.

It explained the ideas behind illusion techniques, not just memorized tricks. And with Arkain's support, Renjiro wouldn't just learn Genjutsu—he could build a strong base and maybe even create something new.

Still, Genjutsu by itself had limits. Unless you were an Uchiha or a Genjutsu specialist, it was weak and often easy to break.

"But what if… What if…" Renjiro murmured, excitement filled his chest: "I didn't use Genjutsu by itself?"

He slowly drew his blade and held it in front of him, letting the idea grow.

"What if I combined Genjutsu with another type of Jutsu—like Ninjutsu… or Taijutsu… or even Kenjutsu?"

This wasn't Chakra Nature Fusion, like Hashirama's Wood Release or Onoki's Dust Release. No—this was something bigger and bolder.

He was talking about Jutsu Type Fusion. Not mixing elemental chakra, but blending entire styles—combining the trickery of Genjutsu with the sharpness of Kenjutsu, the force of Taijutsu, or the wide range of Ninjutsu.

"That…" Renjiro whispered, his voice was full of anticipation: "Would be an incredible and totally new research path."

"Arkain." Renjiro took a deep breath and gave his command inwardly: "Create new task: 'Offense System Overhaul.' Give access to the full simulation room and complete knowledge library. Use my current stats as the base. Start simulations to develop a custom fighting style—something made just for me."

[Beep! Mission Established. Connecting to Knowledge Database... Collecting Data... Simulations Started... Attribute Template Loaded... Calculations in Progress…]

"How long before I get the results?" Renjiro asked, narrowing his eyes with hope.

[Estimated Time: 168 Hours.]

"One week… hmm." Renjiro rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Seven full days—and that was just an estimate. He knew why: the request had been too broad. Arkain worked best with clear, specific goals. The more focused the task, the faster and better the results.

But right now, he didn't have a solid idea—just a feeling, a direction.

Still, it was a good start. As his thoughts became clearer, he could always tweak the mission, adjust the inputs, and narrow the targets. With better goals, Arkain would respond faster and more accurately.

"Now… the offensive system is finally moving forward. Sort of." A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.

Then it disappeared. Renjiro's eyes lowered, and his face turned bitter: "But what about defense?"

His burst of excitement faded instantly.

His defense was a disaster—completely unprotected. Aside from his physical toughness, which wasn't anything special, he had nothing. No defensive Jutsu, no barriers, nothing at all—just Substitution Jutsu, which was more of an escape than actual protection.

He had tried wearing light armor to make up for it, but even that had its price.

Shinobi were supposed to be fast, light, and smooth. The armor slowed him down—took away his edge. He had already gotten rid of the chainmail he used to wear; it weighed too much for someone who focused on speed.

"Ahh…" Renjiro let out a long sigh and leaned back against the tree, staring up at the leaves swaying above.

"If this offensive system plan works, I won't have to think about changing my combat style again for a while." He closed his eyes for a moment.

"As for defense… for now, I'll have to leave it be." He shook his head, with a bitter smile: "Right now, I need to focus on what's right in front of me."

There were too many things already in motion. One breakthrough at a time.

---

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