Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The sharp sting of metal cutting through flesh was brief, followed only by the slow warmth of blood trickling down Renjiro's palm.

"Drip!"

"Drip!"

"Drip!"

He barely flinched. The kunai, slick with fresh crimson, gleamed under the pale moonlight as he lowered his hand. Across from him, Kushina had done the same, her expression calm and composed, as if she had performed this a hundred times before, which was true.

Neither of them moved to stop the bleeding.

The blood dripped steadily, pooling on the ground beneath them in dark, irregular splashes. The silence stretched between them, the cool night air carrying only the soft sound of their breaths and the occasional rustling of leaves.

Then Kushina broke the quiet, her voice edged with urgency.

"We need to hurry before the wounds start healing," she warned, shifting her stance slightly.

Renjiro nodded. He already had improved healing that could deal with the wound but Kushina's was way faster than his, which was understandable considering that the latter was a Jinchuriki.

Wasting no time, both of them formed a single hand sign with their uninjured hands-Kushina's fingers fluid, Renjiro's stiff with concentration. The par focused on their intent, on the blood still flowing freely from their palms.

Immediately, the thick liquid reacted. It began to pull away from Renjiro's skin, lifting into the air as if responding to an invisible force. The sensation was strange, unlike anything he had ever felt before—it wasn't exactly chakra control, but something deeper, something raw and instinctual.

Kushina's blood responded just as effortlessly, swirling in front of her and twisting into delicate yet powerful patterns. The forming seal shimmered with a faint glow, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. It was as if her very essence was woven into the technique.

Renjiro's, however, was different.

At first, his blood obeyed, flowing outward in a similar pattern to Kushina's. But just as the intricate design was about to take form, the blood wavered—then broke apart entirely, splattering onto the ground in a messy, useless sprawl.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration tightening his jaw.

"Damn it."

Kushina, ever observant, smirked.

"Not everyone gets it on their first try like me, you know."

Renjiro turned his head slightly, fixing her with a glare.

Kushina merely shrugged, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder in a mock attempt at comfort.

Renjiro stiffened.

Her hand.

The same hand she had just slit open moments ago.

He immediately jerked back. "Oi, keep your bloody hand away from me!"

Kushina blinked, caught off guard, before she tilted her head back and let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, come on! The wound already healed, see?" She held out her palm, showing off the smooth, unblemished skin where there had once been a fresh cut. "No blood, no mess."

Renjiro, however, was too busy inspecting the small red stains on his tunic with a deep frown. He let out a sigh before mumbling, "Tch. I just cleaned this."

Kushina crossed her arms, watching him with barely concealed amusement. Then, with a teasing lilt to her voice, she asked, "Wait a minute… don't tell me you're scared of blood?"

Renjiro shot her an unimpressed look. "Do I look like someone who would be afraid of blood?"

Kushina grinned, leaning forward slightly. "Then what's with all the whining? It's just a little stain. It's not like it's going to kill you."

Renjiro huffed. "That's not the point."

"The point," Kushina continued, clearly enjoying herself, "is that if you're going to act like a baby about it, then maybe you shouldn't have asked me to teach you blood fūinjutsu in the first place."

Renjiro scoffed. "I didn't ask for your lectures, just your technique."

"And yet, here we are," Kushina sing-songed, stepping back with a victorious smirk.

Renjiro grumbled under his breath, shaking his head before shifting his focus back to the technique.

The concept of blood-based fūinjutsu was something unique to the Uzumaki clan, a technique that was slowly fading from history with the destruction of Uzushiogakure. Unlike traditional fūinjutsu, which relied solely on chakra and ink, the Uzumaki method used their own blood as the medium, harnessing the life force within it to amplify the strength and permanence of their seals.

It was said that the stronger the Uzumaki, the more potent the blood-seal.

Kushina had explained that the Uzumaki's blood carried more than just their vitality—it carried their will. Their emotions, their intentions, all woven into the seal itself, making it nearly unbreakable once formed.

This was why the technique was so difficult to replicate. A person's control over their chakra was one thing, but controlling something as deeply connected to their essence as their own blood required an entirely different level of mastery.

Renjiro had already done it once. In the heat of battle, when his body had been running on adrenaline and instinct, he had managed to force his blood into a seal without even thinking about it.

But now, when he actually tried—when he attempted to consciously control the process—it fell apart.

Why?

Was it the pressure of the moment that had pushed him to succeed last time? Or was there something else—something he was failing to grasp?

He narrowed his eyes, steadying his breathing.

'No distractions. No doubt.'

Renjiro extended his bleeding palm again, his fingers curling slightly as he focused. The steady drip of blood no longer felt like a mere wound—it was a medium, an extension of his will. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, blocking out all distractions, and let his mind replay the moment from before.

He visualized the way his blood had moved during the battle, how it had responded instinctively to his chakra, and how it had flowed and shaped itself into a seal without hesitation.

Kushina stood silently beside him now, her earlier smirk replaced with an evaluating gaze. She had seen many people struggle with blood fūinjutsu. It wasn't just a matter of chakra control—it required something deeper. The blood had to be willed into movement, had to be convinced to form the seal. The more attuned a person was to their own essence, the easier it became.

Renjiro was skilled, that much was obvious. But skill alone wasn't enough.

The fact that he had done it before proved that he had the potential, but if he didn't understand the why behind his success, then he would never be able to replicate it consistently.

Renjiro breathed in.

'Slow. Controlled.'

A single hand sign.

This time, he didn't force the blood to move.

He let it flow naturally, following the pull of his own energy, his own presence. Instead of seeing it as something external to him, he embraced it as part of himself—an extension of his being.

The blood stirred in response.

It slithered forward, coiling into delicate patterns in the air.

For a brief second, the blood wavered—almost as if hesitating.

Renjiro clenched his teeth slightly.

'No. I refuse to fail again.'

He pushed his will into the blood, not with brute force, but with conviction.

The patterns stabilized. The crimson arcs solidified, locking into place with a faint glow.

Kushina grinned, her arms crossed as she observed his handiwork.

"Not bad."

Renjiro exhaled slowly, his lips curling slightly.

He had done it.

But even as he stood there, staring at the floating seal before him, he knew—this was only the beginning. There was still much to learn, much to refine. This technique held a depth that he had only begun to scratch the surface of.

Kushina stepped closer, tapping the air near his seal with a single finger. "Now that you've got the basics down, we can move on to the real part."

Renjiro turned to her, his interest piqued.

"The real part?"

Kushina's grin widened. "What? Did you think this was all there was to it? Please. You barely managed to form the seal. You still have to learn how to actually use it."

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