Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The office bearing the Senju clan symbol was filled with the weight of authority and history. The wooden walls were adorned with scrolls and intricate carvings depicting the clan's storied past.

A soft glow from lanterns cast dancing shadows across the room, illuminating the solemn expressions of the two elderly men within. Shimada, the first to speak, was a wiry figure with deep-set eyes and a long white beard that flowed down to his chest. Despite his age, there was a sharpness in his movements and an urgency in his voice as he rushed in, his robes swishing around him like a storm.

"Okabe, we should do something about it!" Shimada exclaimed, his tone urgent as he addressed his companion.

Okabe, seated at the desk, barely looked up from the scroll he was studying. He bore a striking resemblance to Shimada, with a similarly aged face, though his build was more robust, and his demeanour far calmer. His grey hair was tied neatly back, and his sharp eyes remained fixed on the parchment before him, as if the chaos outside was of no consequence.

"Don't worry about it, Shimada. It will end soon," Okabe replied, his voice a deep rumble that carried an air of confidence, though it seemed to do little to ease his companion's concerns.

Shimada paused, his eyes narrowing. "You said that two hours ago," he countered, his tone sharpening with frustration. "Should we inform the clan head?"

"No!" Okabe quickly interjected, finally leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "It would not be good if we woke him up for this."

For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the distant muffled sounds of destruction. Shimada folded his arms, tapping his fingers impatiently against his sleeves.

Okabe closed his eyes, clearly deliberating, before he pushed himself to his feet with a groan. "Fine," he muttered, "we will go and stop them."

As they moved to leave, Okabe mumbled under his breath, "Will we even be able to stop them?"

---

The training ground, once a serene forested area, was now a scene of utter devastation. Trees that had stood tall for decades were reduced to splinters, their trunks charred or split by powerful jutsus. Craters marred the earth, steam rising from the scorched soil where fire and water had collided. Smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of burnt wood and damp earth.

Aiko and Hiro stood on the outskirts of the battlefield, watching in awe and disbelief. Aiko, her usually composed expression replaced by wide eyes, broke the silence. "It's almost been five hours, and they're still going at it," she said softly, more to herself than to Hiro.

Hiro glanced at her, understanding her words without needing further explanation. His gaze returned to the chaos before them, where Renjiro and Riku were still locked in combat.

For Aiko, the prolonged spar was nothing short of astonishing. She had always known Renjiro and Riku to be formidable shinobi, but this was beyond anything she had imagined.

After five hours of relentless fighting, neither showed signs of yielding. Even as the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, casting a golden hue over the battlefield, their movements remained sharp, their attacks unrelenting.

'How much chakra and stamina do they have?' Aiko wondered, her mind struggling to comprehend the scale of their endurance.

The sheer force behind their jutsus, the precision of their movements, and their unwavering focus—it was as if they were forces of nature rather than mere shinobi.

Hiro, meanwhile, was grappling with different emotions. At first, he had shared Aiko's astonishment at their endurance. But as the fight wore on, a seed of doubt began to take root in his mind. Watching Renjiro and Riku battle with such ferocity, Hiro couldn't help but question himself.

'Will I ever catch up to them?' he thought, his fists clenching at his sides.

Ever since Sakumo's death, Hiro had carried a heavy burden—one he had placed upon himself. Sakumo had been more than a mentor; he had been an idol, a symbol of the Hatake clan's strength and honour.

His tragic end had left a void that Hiro felt compelled to fill. He had vowed to restore the clan's prestige, to become a role model for future generations, including Kakashi.

For Hiro, surpassing Renjiro had always been the benchmark. Renjiro was his best friend, someone he admired deeply, and becoming stronger than him was the first step in his journey to honour Sakumo's legacy. But now, witnessing the sheer scale of Renjiro's capabilities, Hiro felt that goal slipping further away.

'I thought I knew his strength,' Hiro thought bitterly. 'But I was wrong. And if Renjiro is this powerful, how much stronger was Sakumo?'

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, and yet Hiro couldn't look away. "Renjiro hasn't even used his chains," he muttered, more to himself than to Aiko.

---

On the battlefield, Renjiro and Riku faced each other, their breaths steady despite the hours of combat. Renjiro dodged another jutsu from Riku, a look of frustration flickering across his face.

'This is getting annoying,' he thought, weaving through the debris-strewn terrain with practised ease.

He had cards left to play—his adamantine chains, his summons, even his Mangekyo Sharingan—but none of them felt viable in the current situation.

Riku's mastery of the battlefield was unparalleled, his water and earth jutsus seamlessly controlling the flow of combat and the environment. He kept just enough distance to render Renjiro's chains ineffective, and summoning his lightning eagles would only drain his chakra further while giving Riku the opportunity to summon his wolves which would counter any advantage the summon would give to Renjiro. As for his Mangekyo, Renjiro refused to use it unless absolutely necessary.

"Don't you think we should end this?" Riku asked, his tone calm as he closed the distance between them, throwing a series of punches.

Renjiro dodged effortlessly, countering with his own strikes. "What? Sensei, can't you keep going? I can. In fact, I can do this all night!" he said with a smirk, glancing at the faint rays of sunlight breaking through the treetops. "Or day, if you prefer."

It was a bluff. The lingering effects of Aiko's jutsu had subsided, but the prolonged fight was taking its toll. Renjiro was barely maintaining the balance between chakra expenditure and regeneration. The thought of what might have happened without his improved chakra control sent a chill through him.

Riku tilted his head, observing Renjiro with a faint smile. "Let's judge this with one last attack," he proposed, stepping back to avoid a fireball Renjiro sent his way.

Renjiro raised an eyebrow. "Are we both using our strongest techniques?"

"No," Riku replied, his smile widening. "Only me. You'll defend."

Renjiro's smirk faltered slightly, but he nodded. "So, if I manage to defend, I win?"

Riku nodded, and Renjiro adjusted his stance, preparing himself. As Riku began charging his chakra, Renjiro's eyes narrowed. The ground beneath them trembled, and an ominous energy filled the air.

'What is he planning?' Renjiro wondered, his brow furrowing as markings began to appear on Riku's shoulders and his hand started to glow.

"Ready?" Riku asked, lunging forward without waiting for an answer. The sheer force of his approach sent shockwaves rippling through the air, and Renjiro's senses screamed in alarm.

'This isn't like before,' Renjiro thought, panic rising as he erected every barrier he could muster. Riku's presence was overwhelming, his glowing form radiating a power that Renjiro had never faced before.

For a split second, Renjiro considered using his primitive Susanoo. The thought of donning the silver armour filled him with a desperate kind of hope. 'I can't defend against this without it,' he realized, his Sharingan flaring to life as he prepared to summon the spectral armour.

"Boom!"

But just as Riku closed the gap, ready to meet Renjiro's barriers, a figure appeared between them, colliding with Riku and sending him hurtling backwards. The impact was sudden and jarring, leaving Riku slightly disoriented as he staggered to his feet.

"What is wrong with you, boy?" a stern voice demanded, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Riku froze, the voice triggering a primal recognition within him. Slowly, he turned toward its source, his heart already knowing who stood before him.

"Elder..." Riku breathed, his voice filled with equal parts surprise and respect. He dropped into a low bow, his combativeness vanishing in the presence of this towering figure. "I am sorry, Elder Eiji."

Standing before them was Eiji Senju, a man whose very existence seemed steeped in the rich legacy of the Hidden Leaf Village. He was tall, his posture erect and commanding despite the visible signs of age etched onto his face.

His long white hair cascaded down his back like a flowing river, stark against the dark green of his traditional robes adorned with the Senju Clan's emblem. The sharp lines around his eyes betrayed decades of experience, but his gaze was as piercing as ever, exuding wisdom and power in equal measure.

This was no ordinary Senju elder. Eiji Senju was more than a former clan head; he was the Prince of Konoha. This was because he was the son of the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju.

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