Ren pressed his fingers against his temple, sorting through the sudden flood of suppressed memories surfacing from the boy’s mind.
He hadn’t just inherited a tragedy—he had inherited a secret.
The Uchiha had believed they wiped out the Kazeshira, reducing a proud sensory clan to a handful of enslaved orphans.
But the Uchiha elders had been arrogant, blinded by their own fire and Sharingan.
They hadn’t realized that a clan whose very survival relied on reading the wind had smelled the storm coming months before the first blade was drawn.
Through the host boy’s eyes, Ren saw a moonlit memory:
The clan patriarch, his face shadowed by the dim light of a hidden subterranean hall, standing before the gathered elders.
He hadn’t been foolish enough to believe their small clan could survive trapped in the grinding gears between the Senju and Uchiha.
“We move in secret,” the patriarch’s voice echoed in the boy’s memory.
“Three batches.
The first took the ancestral scrolls north toward the coast.
We, the third batch, remain as the decoy to draw the eyes of the titans.”
The plan had been nearly flawless.
The first two batches—comprising over two-thirds of the clan’s population and their complete lineage scrolls—had successfully slipped past the borders under the cover of orchestrated windstorms.
The Uchiha had struck right as the decoy group was preparing to burn their ancestral village and vanish into the night.
They caught the tail end of the clan, slaughtering the elders and enslaving the remaining orphans like Ren, entirely convinced they had extinguished the bloodline.
The Kazeshira weren’t extinct.
They were scattered, hidden in the shadows of distant lands, waiting.
Ren opened his eyes in the cavern, a cold, calculating light gleaming in his gaze. The source of this chapter is g.com.
They moved in batches, Ren analyzed, his mind mapping out the geopolitical layout of the ancient world.
‘The main body of the Kazeshira is out there, fully intact, carrying their advanced wind-style manuals and sensory techniques.
If I can track down where that second batch went…’
He looked down at his arms, feeling the micro-vibrations of the waterfall shifting against his skin.
He wasn’t just surviving a warzone anymore.
He had a concrete target.
Finding the surviving branch of the Kazeshira would give him access to an entire clan’s secret techniques—techniques he could master in this simulation and extract directly back into his real body in Konoha.
Outside the waterfall, the overwhelming chakra pressure suddenly shifted.
Madara and Hashirama had moved, their heavy footsteps echoing away into the rain-soaked forest as their brief confrontation ended.
Ren stood up from the cold stone, tightening the straps of his stolen gear.
‘Time to hunt down my lost clan.’