Kapitel 269: 268-Self-Inflicted

Renjiro's expression remained calm, almost casual, as he looked at his aunt, Miwa. The disbelief on her face still lingered from his earlier revelation about his immunity to genjutsu. Now, he was about to tell her something even more unbelievable.

"You see, my chakra seinou abilities... they didn't come naturally," Renjiro began, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made Miwa sit up straighter.

"I gained them through a ritual called the magatama, an ancient technique of the Uzumaki clan."

Miwa's eyebrows furrowed. "The magatama?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

She had heard whispers of ancient rituals performed by the Uzumaki clan, but most of those stories were lost to history when the clan was decimated during the fall of Uzushiogakure.

Renjiro nodded. "Yes. It's a ritual that uses our life force to manifest special chakra abilities called Chakra Seinou as I referred them as. It's incredibly dangerous, but the power it grants is... well, you've already seen part of it."

Miwa's mind raced, trying to connect the dots. "How did you even learn about this? How did you get access to such a special technique?" Her voice carried a hint of alarm.

Renjiro leaned back slightly, his gaze steady on Miwa's. "It was through Kushina."

Miwa's eyes widened in shock. "Kushina?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper.

She was aware that she was behind most of Renjiro's Fuinjutsu but she was not aware they also dabbed in other extra activities such as these rituals her nephew was talking about.

"Kushina helped me," Renjiro continued, oblivious to Miwa's internal turmoil. "I asked her to tell me everything about the Uzumaki clan's history and techniques. She was reluctant at first, but eventually, she agreed to teach me."

Miwa remained silent, but the gears in her mind turned rapidly. Why would the Hokage permit such closeness? Could Renjiro be seen as a potential threat, just like Kushina? She didn't dare voice these thoughts aloud, though. Renjiro was family, and despite her reservations, she trusted him. But she knew Konoha wouldn't be so trusting.

Renjiro seemed to sense her unease, so he pushed forward, eager to explain. "One of the abilities I gained from the magatama is called chakra purification," he said. "My body immediately purifies any foreign chakra that enters it. That's why genjutsu doesn't work on me—at least, not so far."

Miwa blinked, still trying to process everything. "Chakra purification... So that's why you're immune to genjutsu." A pause. Then her brow furrowed in concern.

"But what about medical ninjutsu? Doesn't that involve foreign chakra entering your body too?"

Renjiro smiled ruefully, knowing that this question would come up sooner or later. "Yeah," he admitted. "I can't be healed by medical ninjutsu. But I heal faster than most people. So... I figured that was worth the tradeoff."

Miwa's expression shifted, concern etched into every line of her face. "So you can't be healed at all?"

Renjiro shrugged, trying to brush it off. "It's not ideal, but it's not as bad as it sounds."

As if to underscore his point, Renjiro held out his hand, and with a focused breath, he channelled his chakra. Then, from his torso, thick chains suddenly shot out, crackling with power. They shimmered in the dim light of Miwa's home, humming with a dangerous energy that made the air feel thick and heavy.

Miwa gasped, instinctively taking a step back, her eyes wide. "Adamantine chains," she whispered.

She knew of this legendary ability, one that had been passed down through the Uzumaki clan, but to see it manifested here, in her living room, by her nephew—it was overwhelming.

Renjiro gave her a soft smile, though there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He retracted the chains with a quiet hum, letting the room return to its previous state. "I don't use them often," he said, his voice quieter now.

"But they're there when I need them."

Miwa stared at him, her emotions a whirlwind of pride, concern, and something else—something heavier. She was proud that Renjiro had become so strong, that he had the means to protect himself in a dangerous world. But the reality of his strength also terrified her.

She knew what the world did to powerful people, especially those with unique abilities.

Renjiro noticed the conflicted look on her face and understood. He had sworn to himself long ago that he would keep his true strength hidden from most, especially from those who might seek to exploit it. But this was Miwa—his only remaining family.

Miwa had also lost so much during the many wars that wrung the shinobi world. Miwa's parents, who were Renjiro's grandparents, had died in the first shinobi war, and her sister died during the Uzushiogakure Siege. So Renjiro was also Miwa's only remaining family.

Besides, after hearing her recount the true events of his parent's deaths, Renjiro felt that she had opened up old wounds for herself, reliving the painful memories of their escape from Uzushiogakure and the death of her sister.

He wanted to give her something to keep her mind off the pain, to show her that he was no longer the vulnerable child she had once protected. So, he decided to reveal some of his abilities.

"I know you want to protect me," Renjiro said, his voice soft, but resolute.

"But I'm not a child anymore. I can protect myself now."

Miwa's face softened, though the worry didn't completely leave her eyes. "I know, Renjiro," she said, her voice laced with emotion. "I know you're strong. Stronger than I could have ever imagined. But that strength comes with danger. The more powerful you become, the more you'll attract unwanted attention."

Renjiro's brow furrowed. "You mean... like from other villages?"

Miwa nodded solemnly. "Yes. You already have a bounty on your head. And with abilities like these... people will come after you, Renjiro. They'll want to capture you, use you, or worse."

'Even the village might come for you.' Miwa thought inwardly.

"I'll be careful," Renjiro said finally, meeting her gaze with a determined look.

"I promise."

Miwa smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just... don't get yourself killed out there, okay?"

Renjiro chuckled softly, standing up from his seat. "I'll do my best." He looked around the familiar room, filled with memories of his childhood.

"I should get going. It's been a long day."

Miwa stood up as well, walking him to the door. "Take care of yourself, Renjiro," she said, her voice soft but firm.

Renjiro nodded, giving her one last smile before stepping out into the night. The cool evening air brushed against his face, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking in the quiet stillness of the village around him.

His body was a bit tired from moving around during the mission, a dull ache settling into his muscles, but there was something else stirring within him—something that had been lingering in the back of his mind ever since his encounter with the Chinoike clan.

It was a plan he had been thinking about for some time, but now, after everything, he felt like he was finally ready.

The walk back to his home was short, and when he arrived, the familiar scent of the wood and tatami mats greeted him, giving him a sense of peace. He removed his sandals and stepped inside, the silence of his home a stark contrast to the chaos of his thoughts.

Renjiro sat down in the center of the room, closing his eyes for a brief moment. His heart beat steadily in his chest, his chakra flowing smoothly through his body. He could feel the tension, the anticipation building inside him.

'I think I can finally do it,' he thought.

Slowly, Renjiro opened his eyes and held out his right hand, focusing his chakra on it. A soft green glow enveloped his hand, flickering faintly in the dim light. His breath remained steady, his gaze unwavering as he carefully reached up to his face.

Without a second thought, Renjiro pressed his fingers around his right eye. With a sharp intake of breath, he channelled more chakra into his hand, feeling the surge of energy course through him.

And then, with one swift motion, he gouged out his right eye.

=====

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Kapitel 270: 269-Perks of being a Snitch

Renjiro took a slow, steadying breath as he stood there, his right eye held carefully in his hand, cradled as though it were the most delicate treasure.

Fresh blood slipped through his fingers and dripped onto the wooden floor below, where the drops pooled into deep red circles that spread out across the wood. Blood trickled down from his empty eye socket, hot against his skin, carving a line down his cheek like a single tear made of red.

Just before he could go ahead with what he wanted to do, Renjiro's Sharingan activated involuntarily, casting a faint, blood-coloured glow across the room.

His surroundings, now seen through the single eye, appeared sharper, more precise—but also oddly lopsided. He could see in precise clarity the way his blood smeared across his hand, the vividness of each splattered drop on the floor, and the flickering shadows cast by the faint moonlight coming in from the narrow window.

He let his hand fall to his side, taking a few moments to steady his breathing and adjust to the singular vision. Memories stirred from a time he had fought Ohashi in the same condition, remembering the strain and the need for a careful strategy when his perception was halved.

With a quiet exhale, he turned and stepped slowly across the room, making his way to a small, unassuming cupboard on the far wall. His fingers brushed along the rough wood, feeling for the subtle mark he'd etched beneath it.

Renjiro raised his left thumb to his mouth and bit down, breaking the skin with a sharp, controlled nip. A small trickle of blood appeared, and he pressed his bleeding thumb to the base of the cupboard.

The blood seeped into the wood, and faint markings began to emerge—a spiral, twisting outward into a delicate network of symbols. It was a complicated design for a seal, something he'd spent months perfecting.

After a few moments, there was a soft click, and the cupboard door slid open with a slight creak. Inside, resting on a carefully secured shelf, was a small jar filled with a faintly glowing, blue liquid.

Renjiro reached inside, taking the jar in his bloodstained hands. The liquid swirled slightly as he held it, shimmering with an ethereal glow. This chakra-infused water was precious, crafted from a delicate balance of his own chakra and rare minerals, all meant to preserve his eye without allowing its power to degrade.

This time, he wasn't going to risk the same mistake he'd made with the previous eye, which had deteriorated from exposure. Placing his Sharingan in this chakra water would keep it stable and dormant until when he would use it.

With slow, deliberate movements, he lowered his hand and carefully dropped his eye into the jar.

"Plop."

It floated briefly before sinking slightly, suspended in the liquid as a small bubble rose to the surface and burst with a faint pop. Renjiro watched the eye, his face grim and focused.

He muttered to himself, his voice just above a whisper, "I'm not sure how many I'll need to finally get the Mangekyo Sharingan. Maybe two… maybe four, considering they're all from the same source. But at least now, I have one."

Renjiro moved to a washbasin in the corner, where he poured water over his hands, watching the blood swirl and dilute before draining away. The cold water stung against where the open wound on his thumb was, but he barely registered the pain.

Once his hands were clean, he dried them and then carefully placed the jar back into the cupboard. He couldn't leave it unprotected, and he paused to think through the steps.

The seal he'd placed on the cupboard was a product of months of work, designed so that only his blood could unlock it. It was highly unlikely that anyone could break it, but Renjiro knew enough about the world to realize that nothing was truly foolproof.

If someone were skilled enough—or if they had intimate knowledge of Uzumaki sealing techniques—perhaps they could find a way through. But even then, Renjiro had taken further precautions.

After the magatama ritual, his chakra was unique, something he wasn't even certain Miwa's blood could bypass. Still, he wasn't about to underestimate potential threats.

Kneeling, he began to layer a secondary seal on top of the first, adding more complexity, and more steps that any intruder would have to overcome. He could feel the burn of chakra as he channelled it into the intricate marks, etching them carefully into the cupboard's wood.

Once the seal was complete, Renjiro stepped back, studying his work. His hands were steady, his mind calm. Only when he finished did he let his shoulders relax, feeling a hint of the exhaustion from his recent mission and the process he had just undertaken.

As he stood there, he couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Maybe I should have used the eye to break any lingering genjutsu I have on me?"

The thought stirred a faint sense of unease. He knew Miwa had placed a genjutsu on him, to protect him from what had happened. She'd done it with good intentions, and in some ways, he understood why she'd gone to such lengths.

But understanding the intentions did not mean that he was comfortable with it. Knowing that he didn't have full control over his actions left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Renjiro's eye narrowed as he considered it further. He knew that breaking the genjutsu would require more than his base Sharingan. To fully dispel it, he'd likely need to unlock the Four Tomoe Sharingan—something he couldn't use without embedding the eye back into his body and opening the gates he currently had access to.

The idea of trying to control the Four Tomoe Sharingan outside his body was intriguing, but he knew it was impractical. For now, it would remain a future experiment, a possibility to revisit once he had more eyes stored.

He sank into a nearby chair, his thoughts drifting. The wood felt solid beneath him, grounding him in the moment. His hand rested on the armrest, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he murmured,

"Maybe I should place Obito in a genjutsu. That could make things easier in the long run."

The thought lingered, tempting him. If he could use the Sharingan to influence Obito, it might change the course of everything. But the idea was quickly discarded—Madara had already awakened the Rinnegan by now, a power so immense that even his carefully placed genjutsu would be unlikely to go unnoticed.

A faint sigh escaped him, and he shook his head. "No… the risk is too great. And besides," he added with a grim smile,

"I've already taken enough risks for one night."

Renjiro reached for a roll of bandages on the nearby table, preparing to tend to his empty eye socket. His bleeding had already stopped but he had to cover the empty socket. He wound the cloth carefully, each turn precise, covering the wound with practised ease.

The sensation was strange—a hollow ache beneath the bandage, a reminder of what he had willingly sacrificed in his pursuit of strength.

As he worked, his mind wandered back to his plans, the intricate strategies he'd begun weaving. Taking out his eye was a risk, one that would likely keep him out of action for a few days. He could only hope there wouldn't be a mission before he had time to recover; explaining his missing eye to his team was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"That all aside… what next?" he muttered, tightening the bandage around his head. He knew that this was only one step in a larger plan, a small sacrifice for a greater goal.

He tapped his fingers against the armrest again, a habit whenever he was lost in thought. The events with Daichi came to mind. To lure him into loyalty, Daichi had granted him unrestricted access to the private library, a tantalizing offer that held promises of forbidden knowledge—techniques like Izanami and Izanagi, techniques that could alter fate itself. Something that Renjiro termed as perks of being a snitch.

"Izanami and Izanagi…" he mused, his fingers still tapping. "I could learn them now if I wanted to. But without more eyes stored away, I can't risk it. Not yet."

Renjiro leaned back, feeling a sense of calm as he settled his thoughts. He knew that the time would come when he'd be ready when he'd have enough eyes to experiment freely. But until then, he needed to be patient, to plan each step with precision.

As he rose to return the jar to its hidden cupboard, a thought crossed his mind. He needed more defensive jutsus. His fingers brushed over the seal, reaffirming its power.

"I need more defensive jutsus in my repertoire," he murmured, making a mental note to study further, to develop techniques that would safeguard him from the eyes of others.

Looking down at his bandaged face, he sighed. "I can't be seen around the village like this." His mind drifted to the Floating Islands, a place where he could go undisturbed, where he wouldn't have to worry about prying eyes or questions. He felt a sense of resolve settle over him.

"Looks like I'll be heading back to the Floating Islands for a while," he said to himself, his voice carrying a quiet determination.