Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The border between the Land of Fire and Takigakure was eerily silent, broken only by the distant rustling of scorched leaves clinging to dying branches and the low hum of chakra still lingering in the air. Smoke curled gently from a crater that seemed freshly gouged into the earth, one of many pockmarking the rugged terrain like angry welts after a violent brawl.

The ground was blackened and broken as if some terrible force had clawed at the land in a moment of fury, and now the earth lay exposed and raw, quietly steaming under the pale morning sun.

Standing at the centre of it all, chest heaving with exertion, was Renjiro Uzumaki.

Sweat ran down his temples in slow, deliberate lines, dripping from his jaw onto the cracked ground beneath him. His breaths were shallow, each inhales a rasp, each exhale a near-gasp. Steam poured from his skin, his body struggling to cool itself after yet another failed attempt. His hair was matted to his forehead, and his eyes were narrowed in stubborn frustration.

The fingers on his right hand twitched as he flexed them carefully. They were flushed with red and radiated a faint heat that had nothing to do with the weather.

"Tch…" he hissed quietly, rolling his wrist with a wince. His hand felt like it had been dipped in acid.

With a slow movement, Renjiro pulled out a soldier pill from his pouch and popped it into his mouth. The bitter taste bloomed on his tongue like chalk soaked in battery acid, but he welcomed the sensation. Almost immediately, a warmth began to spread from his gut, washing over his body like a tide. His fingers tingled. His breath began to steady. Chakra reserves that had been dangerously close to depletion stirred with new life, and a faint aura pulsed around him.

Finally—finally—he caught his breath.

"I need to find a way to throw it…" he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse. His gaze dropped to his right hand again. He stared at it with a mix of hope and dread, then slowly raised it, channelling chakra through his tenketsu.

Chakra surged forward, a controlled stream pulled from deep within him and pushed out with practised precision. His palm shimmered, and then a dull whirl formed. A Rasengan spun into existence, humming with raw energy.

Renjiro narrowed his eyes and fed more wind-natured chakra into the orb. It hissed and screamed in protest as it grew, white spikes erupting from its edges.

The Rasenshuriken.

It spun violently in his hand, a rotating storm of chakra and sound. The blades of wind bit into the air itself, cutting it with shrill screeches—fzzt!—like dozens of tiny razors ripping through paper. Renjiro gritted his teeth as pain lanced up his arm. His skin began to prickle, then burn.

"Nggh—damn it," he gasped as the searing pain intensified. The Rasenshuriken's feedback was attacking him, the unstable edges of the jutsu feeding off his own chakra and trying to carve its way up his arm. He staggered, trying to maintain form, but then—fwoop!—the Rasenshuriken fizzled out, dissipating into whirls of harmless wind.

He collapsed to one knee, clutching his wrist.

'You'd think after all this time I'd get used to the pain,' he thought bitterly. His palm was red and lightly smoking, his skin irritated from the backlash of the incomplete jutsu. He stared at it, flexing his fingers again to check the damage. Slowly, the tingling began to subside, aided by his impressive healing factor.

For three days, he had been out here training, pushing himself past his limits ever since the brutal fight with Renmaru. That battle had left more than scars—it had left revelations.

Renjiro sat back on a broken boulder and stared out at the fractured terrain. That fight had forced him to reevaluate everything. His chains, his genjutsu, even his arsenal of elemental ninjutsu—they were formidable, yes, but they lacked the sheer, overwhelming destructive power needed to end high-tier opponents quickly.

Against someone like Renmaru, the drawn-out fight had exposed a vulnerability in his style: the inability to finish things decisively from range.

"Granted, I can use my chains for offence and defence, and Fire and Wind ninjutsu are useful… but they lack in power when it comes to real monsters," he murmured aloud. "I can't expect to fight someone like Madara Uchiha with half-measures."

His voice trembled with a mix of awe and grim resignation.

He raised his right hand again, watching it heal, watching the red fade slowly into pale skin. "The Rasenshuriken… it's the perfect answer. It's surgical and devastating. But only if I can learn to throw it. Right now, it's a self-harming nightmare."

He sighed and stood again, dusting off his tattered robe. "Thank God for my chakra seinou. Without it, I'd have to master Senjutsu like Naruto to even use this jutsu, let alone survive its recoil."

A thin smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Though… in close quarters, I don't even need this jutsu," he said to no one in particular. "Genjutsu works fine. I just wear them down, lead them into a mental trap. But that only works if I don't open the gates. If I do, there's no finessing it—just brute force."

He lowered his hand, brow furrowing.

'I need to make this work. If I can throw it… I could rain destruction from above. With my summons, I can become an aerial bomber. Appear, strike, vanish. No enemy would see it coming. A shinobi army? Reduced to ash. A Kage? At least pressured. And I wouldn't even need to get close.'

Renjiro closed his eyes, visualizing the technique again. The swirling chakra, the elemental manipulation, the rotation, the containment.

'I just need to stabilize it mid-flight. I need to understand how to release it at the precise moment before it collapses on itself.'

He took a stance again and tried. Rasengan—swirl—compress—infuse—expand.

Rasenshuriken.

It screamed into existence once more, eating away at his skin. His breath caught. He tried to hurl it—but the second he released it, it unravelled, like a wild animal slipping free of a leash.

Fwoop! The wind scattered uselessly again.

"Damn it…" Renjiro grunted, panting. "Just like Naruto, I'm stuck at three attempts before my arm gives out. But I guess even that is impressive without a tailed beast's chakra."

His shoulders slumped. Wind howled faintly across the ravaged terrain, stirring the loose gravel and broken dirt beneath his feet.

He rubbed his arm, pulse beginning to slow. The pain was manageable, but the frustration gnawed at him like an old wound. Every failed attempt was a reminder of how far he still had to go.

Then suddenly—

A thought surged through his mind like lightning.

He froze.

His eyes widened as the pieces began to align.

'Wait… if I can stabilize it inside a barrier… a chakra field… maybe I can guide it, not just throw it raw.'

His heart skipped a beat.

He turned his gaze to the scorched earth again, mind whirling.

'What if I combined my barrier jutsu with a propulsion system? The field contains it, keeps it from destabilizing, and then launches it like a missile. It wouldn't be a Rasenshuriken anymore—it'd be a Rasenshuriken launcher. Controlled destruction.'

He could see it—clear as day.

The solution wasn't brute chakra control. It was structural support. A guiding framework. He could use his chakra chains, weave them into a spiraling matrix, then overlay that with a wind field—

A grin began to spread across his face.

"Oh… oh, that might just work."

His blood sang with the rush of innovation. The fatigue in his muscles didn't matter anymore. The burning in his arm? Forgotten.

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