Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

Reverse summoning.

It was supposed to be the ultimate fail-safe, a guaranteed method of escape. Renjiro had learned that lesson from none other than Minato Namikaze. He vividly remembered how Minato had once used it to extract them from a deadly ambush during the mission in Iwa, transporting the team straight to Mount Myōboku in the blink of an eye.

That experience had left a lasting impression on Renjiro. It wasn't just a display of Minato's unparalleled skill—it was a demonstration of how powerful and practical summoning techniques could be.

Determined to replicate such mastery, Renjiro had worked tirelessly to secure his own summon, so that option he could have that in his arsenal. He understood that there were two ways to use reverse summoning.

The first, and less chakra-intensive, involved summoning the creature and having them initiate the technique. The second, more taxing method, allowed the summoner to perform it themselves—a valuable option for situations like this where stealth was paramount.

Renjiro had always opted for the latter. He had no intention of revealing the existence of his summon unless absolutely necessary, and his chakra reserves were substantial enough to handle the strain.

Yet, now, as he pressed his palm to the floor, pouring chakra into the seals to trigger the jutsu, nothing happened. The oppressive weight of his failure settled over him like a lead blanket.

His brows furrowed deeply, frustration boiling beneath his calm exterior. 'How?' he thought. His crimson Sharingan spun, scanning the room for answers. The seals were flawless. The chakra flow felt uninterrupted. Yet something, something unseen, was barring him from escaping.

'Are they using a seal?' he wondered, his mind racing through possibilities. Sealing techniques were common in high-security facilities, especially in places that held sensitive information or powerful artifacts.

"Now," Sone's voice cut through his thoughts, smooth and infuriatingly casual, "just return the scrolls, and we can settle this like reasonable shinobi."

Renjiro glanced up at him, his eyes narrowing. The man stood relaxed, almost languid, yet his presence radiated an unsettling energy. Then, as if sensing something, Sone's head snapped toward the far corner of the room.

A smirk curled at the edges of his lips, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.

Boom!

An explosion rocked the room, shattering the tense silence. Smoke and debris filled the air as Sone spun toward the source of the blast, only to see Renjiro moving with calculated precision. The young ANBU operative stood near the wall, his right hand glowing with a swirling sphere of concentrated chakra—the unmistakable Rasengan. With a determined cry, he slammed it into the reinforced wall, causing another thunderous eruption.

Renjiro leapt back from the destruction, his eyes darting to the gaping hole he had created. His logic was simple: if the reverse summoning was being blocked, it had to be limited to this room. Escape the confines of this office, and the jutsu might work.

Wasting no time, he pressed his palm to the ground again. Sweat beaded on his brow as he funnelled chakra into the seals, but the outcome was the same. Nothing.

'Again?' he thought, his frustration mounting.

Before he could try a third time, Sone was on him. The man moved like lightning, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His fist shot forward, aiming for Renjiro's head, but Renjiro raised his arm just in time, blocking the punch with his elbow. The impact sent a jarring vibration down his arm, but he gritted his teeth and countered with a sharp jab aimed at Sone's ribs.

"You know," Sone began, his tone maddeningly calm even as he dodged Renjiro's attack with ease, "the ceremony is done."

Renjiro didn't respond, focusing instead on creating space between them. But Sone was relentless, launching another strike, this time a spinning kick aimed at Renjiro's midsection.

"And that means," Sone continued, his voice unbroken as though they were having a casual conversation, "I don't have to worry about containing you anymore."

Renjiro ducked under the kick, pivoting on his heel to deliver a counterattack—a sweeping kick aimed at Sone's legs. But Sone leapt over it effortlessly, continuing his monologue.

"Even if you manage to get past me, you won't leave he—"

Sone's words were cut off as Renjiro disappeared in a blur, replaced by a cluster of seals glowing faintly on the ground.

BOOM!

Explosive tags detonated in unison, sending shockwaves rippling through the room. Smoke and debris filled the air, masking Renjiro's swift retreat. He didn't wait to see the aftermath. With a burst of chakra, he flickered down the corridor, his heart pounding in his chest.

Sone emerged from the smoke moments later, unscathed but visibly annoyed. His sharp eyes scanned the empty space, his smirk replaced by a focused scowl.

For all his composure, Sone knew the truth: his opponent wasn't fighting at full strength. Renjiro's every action was calculated, aimed at one goal—escape.

That realization only fueled Sone's determination. He had been stalling, keeping Renjiro contained while reinforcements were called. Yet, despite his best efforts, the situation was slipping out of control.

What made matters worse was Sone's unique set of abilities. To unleash his full potential, he needed his opponent to reveal more of their hand. Their techniques, their strategies—those were the keys to unlocking his abilities. But Renjiro was giving him nothing, refusing to engage in a prolonged fight.

As Sone pursued him, his voice echoed through the corridors, laced with mockery. "What's wrong, Uchiha? I thought your clan was known for their pride. Are you really going to run away like a coward?"

Renjiro ignored the taunts, his jaw clenched tight as he pushed himself to move faster. The corridors blurred around him, walls streaking into indistinct lines under the speed of his movement. But no matter how quickly he moved, Sone was always there—a relentless shadow dogging his every step.

As Renjiro rounded a corner, attempting to change direction and throw his pursuer off, Sone appeared before him in a blur, his movement almost ghostlike, and Renjiro barely had time to react.

Sone's leg lashed out in a crescent kick, slicing through the air with lethal precision. Renjiro ducked under it, his Sharingan capturing every micro-movement, and countered with a palm strike aimed at Sone's midsection.

Sone twisted his body mid-air, his movements fluid as water, avoiding the strike by a hair's breadth.

His elbow came down in a vicious arc, forcing Renjiro to lean back into a bridge-like stance to evade the blow. Before Renjiro could rise, Sone's foot snapped out, aiming for his exposed torso.

Whoosh!

The air rippled with the force of the kick, but Renjiro spun on his hands, using the momentum to flip upright and create distance between them. He barely had a moment to catch his breath before Sone surged forward again, closing the gap with a flurry of punches.

Each strike was precise, aimed at vital points with unnerving accuracy. Renjiro's Sharingan blazed, reading the trajectory of every punch and deflecting them with calculated parries. Sparks flew as their kunai clashed in the midst of the exchange, the metallic clang echoing sharply in the narrow corridor.

"You're quick," Sone remarked, his tone almost conversational, as though they weren't locked in a deadly duel. His eyes glinted with amusement, though his strikes remained relentless. "But all this running… is that really what the proud Uchiha do?"

Renjiro gritted his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, he pivoted on his heel, using the rotation to launch a spinning kick aimed at Sone's head. Sone ducked low, his hand shooting out to grab Renjiro's ankle, but Renjiro twisted mid-air, slipping free from his grasp. He landed lightly, his feet skidding slightly on the polished floor, and immediately flickered further down the hall.

Finally, after another similar exchange, Renjiro skidded to a halt in a dimly lit hallway. His breath came in heavy pants, sweat dripping down his temple. He could feel the strain of his repeated efforts to escape.

"Enough," he muttered, his patience wearing thin.

A sharp crackle filled the air, like the chirping of a thousand birds. Lightning chakra surged to life around Renjiro's right hand, forming the deadly shape of the Chidori. The glow illuminated the corridor, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls.

The next instant, Sone appeared beside him, his smirk firmly in place. Without hesitation, Renjiro thrust his electrified hand toward Sone's chest, aiming to end the fight in one decisive strike.

But Sone was ready. His right hand shot out, catching Renjiro's wrist mid-thrust. The Chidori crackled and hissed, the energy sparking wildly between them as Sone held it in place.

"This," Sone said, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, "is a pretty interesting jutsu."

Renjiro's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. How had Sone anticipated the move so perfectly?

Sone's smirk deepened as he raised his left hand. Lightning began to dance along his fingertips, coalescing into a Chidori of his own. The eerie glow reflected in his sharp eyes as he locked gazes with Renjiro.

"Thank you," Sone said, his tone dripping with mockery.

Then, with a swift, fluid motion, he thrust his Chidori toward Renjiro's chest.

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