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Yoru’s Favorite Hobby: Employee Abuse
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 04:28:29 +0000 UTCRen returned to his basement and immediately assigned two clones to begin working on analyzing the seal-covered Yamanaka. Though he had acted clueless during the earlier conversation, he already had his suspicions.
‘Looks like Danzo really was supplying Orochimaru with subordinates and experimental subjects,’ he thought, watching the clones settle the body and begin the preliminary inspection. His brows furrowed slightly. ‘Even Inoichi recognized that seal mark. That means the village isn’t completely unaware of what’s going on. So why hasn’t anyone done anything?’
He considered the implications carefully. ‘Could it be because Danzo hasn’t touched any clan shinobi? No, knowing him, that’s unlikely.’ His frown deepened. ‘Then the only other explanation is Hiruzen. If he’s actively suppressing matters related to Danzo, the clans wouldn’t be able to push back, unless they want to openly challenge the Hokage. And nobody is ready to take that risk yet.’
He shook his head slightly and sighed. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter for now. I’ll just focus on this seal mark. If I can figure it out, I’ll be able to use Danzo’s subordinates in the future more easily.’
Another idea came to mind, but he dismissed it. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. For now, information was his best weapon.
With that, he left the clones to their task and made his way to the trap room.
His focus now was on continuing his training for Hyperfocus. He had already cleared Level 4, but he wasn’t yet able to consciously enter the state. Based on his estimations, once he cleared Level 6, he’d likely be able to access Hyperfocus in dire moments, even if not freely at will, it would still be a significant improvement.
It was all about familiarity: triggering both body and mind to recognize the rhythm of combat at that heightened state.
Before starting the session, he opened the system panel and used the single Jonin-level point he had received from the last A-rank mission. He invested it in Strength, raising the stat from 63 to 64.
As expected, with only one point added, there was no need to waste time adjusting to his new strength. The change was subtle enough to integrate naturally, allowing him to transition into training immediately.
And so, the cycle continued.
Ren trained daily. Missions came and went, most of them routine by now. He split his time efficiently between trap room combat simulation, weapon mastery, Fuinjutsu study, and direct combat missions under the guidance of the Numbers. The clones in the basement focused on deciphering the seal and steadily pushed his Bukijutsu mastery higher.
Just like that, two more months passed.
~
During the two months that passed, Ren completed mission after mission, accumulating 5 Jonin level points, 3 of which came from A-rank missions he had completed in the last month.
As usual, Ren invested every point into his strength, raising it from 64 to 69, which also matched his current level. His strength stat had been the lowest of the bunch, so it made sense for it to be the focus. In just one month of working with ANBU, Ren’s level had gone from mid-Jonin level to high-Jonin level.
However, he was fairly sure that once his level hit 70, the system would no longer reward him for B-rank missions. That meant A-rank missions would become his only reliable way to earn points.
Fortunately, Yoru had finally started assigning him A-rank missions. The three A-rank assignments he had completed all came within the last month, but what had actually triggered Yoru’s change of mind had happened a bit earlier.
A Month Ago
That day was a rare one. All the Numbers were present in the command base. Usually, one or two were out on missions, so this sort of gathering was almost unheard of. But Ren wasn’t tense about it, far from it. He was quite relaxed since his training was going well so he was casually waiting near the briefing room.
The others? Not so much.
They looked... tense.
So, like a good teammate, Ren turned to Number 3 and asked, “Why are you guys so nervous? He’s asked us to gather like this before.”
3 and the other Numbers looked at him, as if he had just asked why ninjas use kunai.
“Didn’t the commander tell you the reason for the gathering?” 3 asked.
Ren shook his head. “Nope. He just told me to report to the training field after I handed in my report on the seal research.”
3 sighed. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
A few seconds later, Yoru appeared with his usual blank mask and crisp tone.
“1. Come to the field.”
1 visibly stiffened but moved forward without a word. He didn’t question orders. None of them did.
Ren leaned slightly toward 3 and whispered, “Trial combat? That’s it? We used to do this kind of stuff with our Jonin Sensei too.”
3 gave him a flat look. “This is not that.”
And she was right.
A few minutes into the bout, Ren realized exactly why everyone looked like they were about to attend their own funerals.
Yoru wasn’t sparring.
He was systematically breaking 1 down.
Nothing 1 used was effective. Yoru either blocked it effortlessly or dodged it like he had seen the move days in advance. On the other hand, every single one of Yoru’s attacks connected, and they didn’t hold back. Shattered ribs, nearly dislocated shoulders, deep slashes, Yoru didn’t stop. And neither did the medics, because they were standing to the side, waiting for a signal. A signal that only came when 1 was at the edge of death.
Thirty minutes of this went on. And then it was 2’s turn.
It didn’t get better.
2 relied on kenjutsu, but against someone like Yoru, it may as well have been stick fighting. His movements were read, countered, and punished without remorse. If 1 was methodically broken, 2 was demolished.
Then came 3 and 4. The support types.
Yoru, apparently, didn’t give them any leeway either. In fact, Ren had a sneaking suspicion he was even harsher on them. Maybe he believed that support-type shinobi should be able to go offensive when the mission demanded it. That, or he just enjoyed watching them suffer.
When 4 was finally thrown back and dragged to the medic-nin, Ren saw the rest of the Numbers sitting in the corner, groaning quietly like beaten dogs.
Then came the inevitable.
Yoru’s voice rang out across the field.
“5. Come.”
The moment Ren stepped into the field, he didn’t even get the chance to speak before a kunai whizzed past his head, thrown by Yoru without warning.
As if that was the signal to begin, Ren reacted instantly. He shot forward, pulling out a long sword and a short sword from his belt, wielding both in tandem to create a flurry of unpredictable and intersecting attack patterns. His movements were sharp, erratic, and calculated to confuse and overwhelm.
But Yoru barely moved.
He dodged and countered effortlessly, his body adjusting with minimal motion, reading Ren’s attacks before they landed. Then he began his counteroffensive, a relentless assault of precise strikes, mixing close-combat attacks with sudden ranged weapons. It left Ren with only one option: evade.
At one point, forced into a knee slide by a rapid combination of feints and kicks, Ren skidded across the field toward Yoru at breakneck speed. Thinking fast, he plunged his short sword into the ground, using it as a pivot point to launch himself upward in a mid-air dodge, just in time to avoid a low sweep from Yoru.
While airborne, Ren twisted his body and slashed downward with the long sword, hoping to catch Yoru by surprise.
But Yoru ducked under it cleanly.
In the same motion, he drove a kunai directly into Ren’s stomach, the force of the strike enhanced by a sudden twist that made it dig deeper. Then, without pause, Yoru kicked Ren away like a discarded object.
Ren hit the ground and skidded backwards, coughing and gasping for air. Blood seeped through his uniform, and he immediately pulled the kunai out of his abdomen with gritted teeth. His hands glowed faintly as he began applying healing jutsu to heal and stabilize himself.
But Yoru gave him no time.
He closed the distance almost immediately and resumed the pressure. His attacks this time weren’t just Taijutsu, he was mixing in thrown weapons and chakra-enhanced palm strikes. With his stomach wound only partially healed, Ren’s reactions were just a second slower, and that was enough.
Blow after blow landed. A knee to the ribs, a slash across the shoulder, then, a full-power punch to the face.
Ren’s ANBU mask cracked under the force, the hardened ceramic splitting with a sharp noise. His body was flung back, spinning mid-air like a ragdoll.
But before he could crash into the dirt, Ren suddenly stopped mid-air.
A snap echoed.
His hand gripped his chakra enhanced whip, now coiled tightly around Yoru’s ankle, the tension in the line halting his momentum. Ren twisted in the air and dropped down to the ground on his feet, crouched, panting heavily but still fighting.
Mask met mask and the whip tugged slightly in Ren’s hand.
The next exchange was about to begin.
Yoru was clearly not the same as Orochimaru’s experiment, the one Ren had been able to engage in a tug-of-war of strength. This time, the difference in level was real. The moment Ren tried to initiate a contest of power by anchoring his whip around Yoru’s leg, the response was instantaneous.
Yoru’s hands blurred into a seal sequence, and the ground beneath Ren suddenly turned to mud.
Before Ren could even think of reacting, his footing vanished. He began to sink fast. He had no choice. If he didn’t want to be swallowed by the jutsu, he had to release the whip. Gritting his teeth, Ren let it go and flickered away from the spot.
But there was no pause. Yoru was already there.
The two engaged again in an intense flurry of Taijutsu, fist to fist, elbow to knee, counter after counter. Ren was fast, his reflexes razor-sharp, and his attacks flowed together with practiced precision. But every time he struck, Yoru moved at the last possible moment, as if he already knew what Ren was going to do.
Even when Ren changed angles at the last second, Yoru adjusted, always a half-step ahead.
But Ren didn’t stop.
Instead of getting discouraged, he pressed on harder. Eyes wide open, not blinking, scanning every muscle twitch, every shift in weight. He enhanced his hearing, picking up the faintest sounds, the rustle of clothes, the scrape of sandals against dirt.
Unconsciously, he even began using the sensitive pores on his skin to feel the changes in the wind, in the air pressure around each movement.
Then slowly, without even realizing it, Ren entered Hyperfocus.
His thoughts dimmed. His body moved with perfect mechanical flow. He no longer reacted, he anticipated. Every dodge, every step, every counterstrike was executed with cold, precise intention.
Yoru noticed it immediately. The Ren standing in front of him now was no longer training, he was operating. Not just doing but thinking while doing.
Still, Yoru didn’t stop. He had a purpose for this trial, and he wasn’t done yet.
Minutes passed.
Ren’s eyes began to bleed. There was only a trickle at first.
Then, his nose and ears too. Blood dripped down his face, his uniform already stained at the edges. But he didn’t flinch. Not once.
Instead, his focus sharpened even more. The entire world slowed down for him. Every breath Yoru took, every ripple in the fabric of his cloak, every tightening of muscle, Ren saw it all in perfect clarity.
The movement patterns became readable.
Yoru attacked but Ren moved with him in simultaneous motion. Ren attacked. Yoru countered. Back and forth. Their movements began to sync, like two dancers caught in an intricate pattern.
For the first time in the fight, Ren was keeping up.
Yoru gave a small nod to himself. This was what he wanted to see.
It wasn’t enough to master Hyperfocus through theory or trap simulations. It needed blood, it needed urgency, and Ren had just crossed that line.
But Yoru knew they couldn’t continue for long. Ren was reaching his physical limit. Any more, and permanent damage was possible.
Still, before ending the match, Yoru decided to push it just one more time. He launched a punch with 40% of his full strength, aimed straight at Ren’s midsection.
But this time, Ren blocked it.
He met the punch with his own, the two fists colliding in a perfect clash of force and technique. Instead of being launched away, the two of them entered a brief deadlock, holding their ground.
Yoru’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. ‘He used chakra-enhanced strength in this state?’
It was rare. Hyperfocus normally detached the user from precise chakra control techniques in the earlier stages while once mastered Hyperfocus actually helped those techniques, but Ren had managed to combine both instinct and chakra manipulation in perfect sync.
He was progressing faster than expected.
Yoru was impressed but the fight had to end.
Without hesitation, Yoru unleashed a follow-up punch, this time at 80% of his strength.
Ren tried to react. His body shifted, chakra surged, but the gap was too wide. He barely cushioned the blow before being launched across the field, tumbling through the dirt, hitting the ground hard.
He landed on his back, eyes wide open, staring up at the sky.
Seconds passed.
A faint twitch in his eye.
Then, finally, he blinked, and that blink was the breaking of a dam.
The accumulated stress on his brain, the bleeding, the strain of Hyperfocus, all burst through at once.
His body curled up as he gripped his head.
And then,
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the field.
The others rushed over immediately.
The combat trial was over.
~~~~~
{To be honest, I had this fight planned for quiet some time now, but actually writing was still a bit difficult. I tried to explain things in the fight somewhat but a more detailed explanation would be provided in the next chapter}
