Naruto : The Bloodied Spider

Renkai sat alone in the Academy's library, a thick scroll unrolled in front of him. His fingers traced the complex symbols, eyes scanning every detail with unwavering focus.

Fūinjutsu.

The art of sealing. The ability to contain, manipulate, and alter chakra through intricate formulas. It was different from ninjutsu, from taijutsu, from any other discipline. It didn't require speed or brute force—it required understanding.

And that was why it fascinated him.

The past weeks had been spent refining his control over kunai, learning to incorporate his Lightning Release, and enhancing his chakra threads. But even with these improvements, he still lacked efficiency.

Fūinjutsu could change that.

His instructor, Takeda Genji, had given them a brief lecture on the subject earlier that week. Most students found it dull. Seals weren't flashy. They weren't immediately useful in a fight. But Renkai understood their potential.

A well-placed seal could store weapons, set traps, reinforce defenses.

A properly designed seal could change the battlefield itself.

He had to learn it. The similarities between sealing formulas and the spell structures from his old world meant he had a natural affinity for it. If anything, he should have started earlier.

The basics were clear enough. A seal was a formula—a complex pattern of chakra pathways inscribed onto a surface. The formula dictated what the seal could do. Chakra acted as both ink and fuel, activating the effect when necessary.

But precision was everything. A single miswritten stroke could ruin the entire function.

Failure was not an option for Renkai.

He spent hours studying the structure of basic storage seals. He examined how they folded space, how they used chakra to anchor and retrieve objects. The concept was simple—store an item, then retrieve it with a focused release of chakra.

But making one?

That was another challenge entirely.

Renkai sighed, rolling his shoulders before dipping his brush into the special ink he had bought with what little money he had. He had prepared a blank scroll for practice. Carefully, he began inscribing the formula. The strokes had to be deliberate, precise.

One mistake and the seal would be useless.

He finished the pattern and pressed his fingers against it, pushing a small amount of chakra into the formula.

Nothing happened.

He frowned.

There was an error somewhere. A minor imbalance in the flow? A miscalculated angle?

He adjusted the strokes, refined the chakra pathways, and tried again.

This time, the ink pulsed faintly.

Progress.

It took another four attempts—each failure draining his limited ink supply, making him wince at the cost—before the seal finally activated. A faint glow spread across the paper, the chakra pathways stabilizing into a proper circuit.

Now came the real test.

Renkai placed a kunai on the center of the scroll and channeled his chakra.

The kunai vanished.

His eyes flickered with satisfaction.

This is it.

Storage seals weren't difficult for advanced shinobi, but for an Academy student to create one this early was practically unheard of.

Renkai carefully placed his fingers on the seal and released his chakra.

The kunai reappeared instantly.

It worked.

A quiet grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

But this wasn't enough.

A single storage seal wouldn't change much. He needed to make it smaller, faster, and more efficient.

If he could store multiple kunai on his arms, on his wrists, on his fingers—then he could summon weapons instantly in battle.

He got back to work.

By the time the next sparring session arrived, Renkai had completed his first set of practical storage seals. They were still simple, but they were functional. And in battle, that was all that mattered.

He had inked small, reinforced formulas onto bands of cloth wrapped around his wrists. Inside each, he had sealed a few kunai.

It wasn't perfect. The activation delay was still noticeable. He needed to refine the chakra flow to make the retrieval instant. But even in this rough state, it was already a game-changer.

The class gathered in the training field, awaiting their matchups. Takeda Genji stood in the center, arms crossed as he called names.

"Renkai. Shinozaki Daisuke."

Renkai stepped forward, eyes narrowing. Daisuke was stronger than him in raw physical ability, but he was reckless—too aggressive, too predictable.

This would be a perfect test.

The moment the match started, Daisuke charged.

Renkai anticipated it. He sidestepped the first strike, then the second. Daisuke swung hard, overcommitting as always.

Perfect.

Renkai flicked his wrist.

A kunai materialized instantly in his palm.

The sudden appearance caught Daisuke off guard. Renkai struck fast, dragging the kunai across his opponent's sleeve—not enough to cut deep, but enough to force him to react.

Daisuke stumbled back, eyes wide. "How—?"

Renkai didn't answer. He had already retrieved a second kunai.

No wasted movements. No reaching into a pouch. Just pure efficiency.

The fight lasted less than a minute.

Daisuke hesitated, thrown off by Renkai's sudden weapon materialization. And in that hesitation—Renkai ended it.

A kunai pressed against Daisuke's throat.

"Match over," Takeda Genji announced.

The class murmured, their eyes flicking between Renkai and their instructor. Genji, usually unreadable, showed a rare flicker of surprise—perhaps even unease.

Renkai withdrew the kunai and stepped back.

Takeda Genji studied him for a long moment before speaking.

"…That's an interesting trick."

Renkai met his gaze. "Fūinjutsu."

Genji crossed his arms. "You made those yourself?"

Renkai nodded.

The instructor exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "You're full of surprises."

But in his mind, he thought, this boy is a true battle monster. At this rate, there will be no hiding him from the elders.

Renkai said nothing.

But inside, he was satisfied.

This was only the first step.

Seals weren't just for storage. They could be for traps, mobility, barriers.

And he would master them all.

Because in battle, the one who controls the battlefield… wins.