Naruto : The Bloodied Spider

Renkai had always believed that knowledge was the true foundation of power. In his previous life, he had spent years mastering magical formulas, deconstructing arcane principles, and refining spellcasting techniques. He had learned that true mastery didn't come from brute strength or raw talent alone—it came from understanding.

And in this world, understanding chakra was his key to survival.

The Academy had given him access to something he had longed for since arriving in this world: structured knowledge.

While his classmates spent their free time playing or engaging in meaningless rivalries, Renkai spent his afternoons in the Academy's library.

He quickly discovered that shinobi weren't just trained through combat. Knowledge was stored, categorized, and made available to those who sought it—at least, at the Academy level.

Every evening, after classes ended, he could be found seated at a wooden table, surrounded by scrolls.

Introductions to Medical Ninjutsu. Sensory Techniques. Fūinjutsu.

Anything that could give him an edge.

At first, his reading was broad, covering the history of the five great nations, their wars, and the political structures of the shinobi world. But as weeks passed, he narrowed his focus.

Sensory techniques fascinated him.

The ability to perceive chakra, detect enemies, and expand one's awareness—this was something he needed. It was a form of information gathering, a way to counter the unpredictable.

He read about sensor-nin, the unique chakra signatures every individual had, and how some shinobi could extend their senses across vast distances.

More importantly, he learned that fūinjutsu could be tied to sensory abilities. Certain seals could expand perception, lock onto specific energy sources, and even suppress presence altogether.

That realization changed everything.

If he could master fūinjutsu alongside sensory techniques, he could refine his combat into an extreme level of battlefield control.

It was a slow process. Much of what he read was theoretical—he lacked the guidance to put it into practice. But he memorized everything. The structures. The principles. The weaknesses.

And as he read, he trained.

Renkai's training had become an obsession.

In his free time, he worked relentlessly to refine his chakra control, kunai throwing, and physical agility.

By now, he had gained a reputation in the Academy.

Not as the strongest.

Not as the fastest.

But as the most unpredictable.

His chakra threads were evolving. At first, he could barely control one kunai. Now, he was reaching two.

It still required extreme focus—his mind had to divide attention between each thread. If he focused too much on one, the other would slacken. But the more he practiced, the more natural it became.

Kunai control was only the beginning.

He needed more movement options.

His flexibility training intensified. If he couldn't match the raw speed of his peers, then he needed to compensate in other ways. Dodging. Unorthodox angles. Evasion tactics.

Some students laughed at his strange methods. They didn't understand why he practiced low-ground movement or why he spent time hanging from tree branches while throwing kunai.

But they weren't the ones who would redefine how combat was fought.

They weren't the ones who would shape themselves into something completely different from the norm.

And then, there was ninjutsu.

If there was one aspect of shinobi training that made Renkai uneasy, it was this.

Unlike chakra control, which felt natural, ninjutsu felt foreign.

No matter how much he practiced, no matter how much he studied, there was a fundamental disconnect between himself and jutsu techniques.

He could form the hand seals. He could shape the chakra.

But the output? Unstable. Inefficient. Wrong.

Clone Jutsu? His copies were transparent, flickering, and weak.

Transformation Jutsu? Slight distortions always gave away his disguise.

Substitution? He could barely time it correctly, leaving him a second too slow when trying to switch places.

It was frustrating. He could manipulate chakra threads, refine kunai movements, and even explore sensory techniques—but basic ninjutsu felt impossible.

And this wasn't something that could be ignored.

Academy students needed to pass the ninjutsu exam to graduate.

It meant he had no choice but to improve, even if the process was painful.

For now, he trained in secret. After hours, when no one was around, he forced himself to practice basic jutsu.

Each failure solidified a hard truth.

Magic and chakra were different at a fundamental level.

Chakra required an intuitive release, while magic had been structured through precise calculations.

His instincts fought against this world's system.

And if he didn't adjust?

Then he would fail.

Weeks passed.

His sparring sessions became more intense.

At this point, most students had realized something:

Renkai didn't fight like anyone else.

His movements were calculated. His attacks were deceptive. His kunai control was almost unnatural.

By now, he could reliably control two kunai with threads, even in light combat.

He was nowhere near his ideal control level, but it was enough to turn the tide of a fight.

One afternoon, during a spar, he caught the attention of Takeda Genji.

Their instructor had always kept an eye on him, but today, Renkai could sense a shift.

As the fight ended, Genji called him over.

"Renkai," he said. "Try channeling chakra into your kunai."

Renkai hesitated. He had never attempted this before.

But he complied.

Holding a kunai between his fingers, he focused. He directed chakra into the weapon, trying to infuse it properly.

The metal hummed slightly. A faint spark crackled along its surface—weak, unstable.

Genji's eyes narrowed.

"Although weak, you can already utilize your chakra nature to a small degree. You're a Lightning-natured shinobi."

Renkai's mind processed this quickly. Lightning Release.

He had read about it in the library.

That explains the subtle crackling effect. The way his threads occasionally carried static energy.

It wasn't strong—he barely had any control over it—but it was there.

His instructor studied him carefully.

"This is rare in Konoha," Genji muttered. "Lightning Release isn't common here. If you can refine this, it'll be an advantage."

Renkai said nothing.

But his mind was already moving at full speed.

Lightning-infused kunai. Lightning-charged threads. If he could apply this correctly…

He had another layer of unpredictability to his arsenal.

But first—he needed to understand what Lightning Release truly meant.

And for that, he would need guidance.

Not now. Not yet.

But soon.

That night, Renkai pushed his training even further.

For the first time, he actively tried channeling Lightning Release into his chakra threads.

The results were weak. Sparks flickered, but the charge wasn't enough to cause real damage.

Still—this was progress.

Even if his body fought against ninjutsu, he had found another way forward.

He wasn't sure where this path would lead.

But one thing was certain.

He would continue moving forward.

Because in this world, only those who evolved would survive.