Kapitel 322: 321-Sold Out

A flood of emotions coursed through Renjiro, each vying for dominance over his mind. Shock gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, disbelief churning his gut.

But it was anger—deep, unrelenting rage—that consumed him most. It was not the hot flash of temper that came and went but a seething, volcanic fury that bubbled and brewed deep within his core, threatening to erupt.

His chest heaved with every laboured breath, his body trembling from the sheer intensity of it. The idea that someone from his own village had betrayed him—sold him out to the likes of Kumogakure, no less—was a bitter pill to swallow.

The Sharingan in Renjiro's eyes flared to life, its four tomoe spinning faster than ever before. They blurred, morphing into the intricate, six-pointed star pattern of his Mangekyō Sharingan.

A wave of chakra pulsed outward, rippling through the air like a sudden shift in the atmosphere before green flames began to flicker around him. The ethereal fire grew quickly, spiralling upward and bathing the forest in an eerie emerald glow. The leaves rustled against the sudden heat, the crackle of the flames mingling with the soft hiss of burning wood as the fire licked at the trees nearest to him, or whatever was left of them.

Renjiro hardly noticed the transformation, his mind consumed by his fury. The heat of the flames grew searing, the fiery aura intensifying to a point that made his skin sting and his vision blur.

"Aaargh!"

Only when sharp, stabbing pain lanced through his eyes—a cruel reminder of the toll the Mangekyō Sharingan exacted—did he snap back to reality.

'What the hell happened?' Renjiro wondered as he realized that his Mangekyo was active.

He was reading Kanai's memory then-, his mind was blank. This was the second time, where Renjiro's emotions got the better of him, the first time being when he met the Chinoike shinobi. Once time was a coincidence, but twice?

"Calm down, Renjiro," he muttered aloud, his voice shaky but firm, as if trying to ground himself. "There are far more important matters."

He planted his hands on his knees, forcing himself to take deep, measured breaths. Each inhale was slow, and deliberate, and every exhale carried a sliver of his anger away.

The green flames began to wane, flickering weakly before vanishing altogether. Renjiro straightened, the pounding in his head receding. His Sharingan returned to its normal four-tomoe state, the Mangekyō fading from his eyes. He then deactivated his sharingan.

The memories he had extracted from Kanai still lingered in his mind, replaying like fragments of a broken reel. They were valuable, but maddeningly incomplete.

Kanai and his comrades weren't privy to the intricate details of the plan. All they knew was that Kumogakure's high command had somehow secured confidential information about Renjiro's departure from Konoha. They were only aware of the specific day he was set to leave, but even that level of intelligence was alarming. Since Kumo was in no way closer to Konoha, so for them to make it to him in time for when he would leave the village, meant that they knew days prior.

"How the hell could someone give this information to Kumogakure?" Renjiro thought bitterly, his fists clenching again.

The idea gnawed at him, refusing to let go. The mission had been classified, an ANBU operation known only to a handful of individuals. Konoha was no stranger to spies—every shinobi village harboured them, as much a part of the shinobi world as kunai and jutsu. But this… this was something else entirely.

"I didn't even know exactly when I'd get my mission," Renjiro muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Jiraiya only gave me a rough timeline. Whoever leaked this information had to be someone important—someone with high-level access."

He paced back and forth, his mind racing as he tried to piece the puzzle together. Yet no matter how hard he thought, the conclusion evaded him.

It was irksome, infuriating even, to think that someone within Konoha would stoop so low as to betray the village to Kumogakure, of all places. The two villages had been locked in bitter enmity for the last couple of years. It was unthinkable… and yet, here he was, grappling with the evidence.

"But it's also unexpected," he murmured to himself, his brows furrowing. "No one would ever suspect betrayal for Kumo. Maybe that's exactly why it worked."

Deciding to leave no stone unturned, Renjiro moved toward the bodies of the other four Kumo shinobi. He crouched beside them, one by one, placing his hands on their foreheads as he delved into their minds.

Each attempt brought fragmented glimpses of their orders and the faint threads connecting them to Kumogakure's higher-ups. Still, the information was incomplete, frustratingly so.

When he was done, he sealed their bodies into a storage scroll with a flick of his wrist, ensuring no evidence would be left behind.

"But putting my info out there like that… it makes this whole mission even more dangerous," Renjiro muttered under his breath. His jaw tightened as the gravity of the situation settled on his shoulders.

He couldn't shake the nagging thought that Kumo might already be expecting him. They'd known when he was leaving Konoha, which meant they could easily anticipate his arrival. If they were lying in wait, his mission was already walking a knife's edge.

"There's even a chance the village itself could be behind this," Renjiro considered grimly.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea.

Hiruzen Sarutobi—the Third Hokage—had made his share of questionable decisions in the past and future. Renjiro's mind flashed to the time, in the future, when Konoha would hand over Hizashi Hyūga to Kumogakure after their failed attempt to kidnap Hinata.

That situation had never sat right with Renjiro; it reeked of desperation and political manoeuvring. The thought that Konoha might sacrifice him for the sake of diplomacy or leverage left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"But if the village is behind this…" His voice trailed off, the words too heavy to finish.

The idea of turning against Konoha, even if forced to, was anathema to him, at least for now.

This was the village that had taken him in after the fall of Uzushiogakure, a place he had called home for nearly a decade. There was a sentimental attachment he couldn't ignore. And even if he could, Konoha was a juggernaut—a military machine with the Sannin, among others, still active. Going against such a force was tantamount to suicide.

Renjiro let out a long sigh. "Dwelling on this won't help right now," he told himself. "I'll investigate after I complete my mission."

He turned his focus back to the task at hand, sweeping the clearing to ensure no traces of his presence remained. He erased every footprint, kunai mark, and disturbance in the underbrush. Satisfied that he had covered his tracks, he hoisted his pack over his shoulder and resumed his journey.

The road ahead was long and treacherous. Every step was a reminder of the stakes he faced. The wilderness gave way to rocky terrain as he drew closer to the border of the Land of Lightning. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, carrying with it the faint tang of salt from distant seas. Renjiro pushed forward, his mind a whirlwind of plans, contingencies, and questions without answers.

By the time he reached the border, a full day had passed. The towering mountains of the Land of Lightning loomed before him, their jagged peaks shrouded in mist.

=====

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Kapitel 323: 322-Again?

Renjiro moved cautiously along the rugged path, the wind carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. Kumogakure was unlike any other shinobi village, its location a natural fortress.

While Konoha had to manage its defences against eight neighbouring villages, many of them minor, Kumo was nestled securely, bordering only the Land of Frost to the southwest and the vast ocean everywhere else.

This strategic positioning made Kumo one of the most impenetrable villages in the shinobi world, a fortress both by design and by nature.

Its mountain peaks stood as sentinels, jagged and foreboding, while the crashing waves along its shoreline acted as an ever-present deterrent to any naval incursion.

Renjiro had read reports about Kumo's defensive advantages. The Land of Frost, though a potential weak spot, was covered in dense, snowy terrain that naturally slowed any invasion. And the sea? A vast, unpredictable expanse that was nearly impossible to traverse undetected. For someone on a covert mission like Renjiro, the thought of sneaking through the water filled him with dread.

He wasn't equipped for prolonged underwater travel or for fending off Kumo's highly skilled shinobi who patrolled their shores. It left him with only one option: an isolated mountain route that skirted the snowy regions of the Land of Frost.

"This path better be worth it," Renjiro muttered, adjusting his pack as he climbed higher along the rocky trail. The air grew colder with every step, his breath misting in front of him. The path was narrow, bordered by sharp cliffs that plunged into shadowy depths on one side and towering rock walls on the other. Renjiro's sharp eyes scanned his surroundings, his senses on high alert for any sign of movement.

Despite its isolation, the route was not entirely as unpopular as he would have greatly hoped. And soon enough, he found out why.

A faint sound reached his ears—the clash of steel against steel, the unmistakable clang echoing through the mountains. Renjiro froze, crouching low as his gaze darted ahead. The narrow trail curved around a bend, and from the other side, he could see flashes of movement.

Two groups of shinobi were locked in battle just a few meters away, their movements a blur of speed and precision. One group wore dark brown attire, their chakra signatures unmistakably belonging to Kumo. The other group sported grey uniforms, their mist-like chakra and fluid movements identifying them as shinobi from Kirigakure.

'I should have used another route,' Renjiro thought bitterly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his kunai.

He pressed himself against the rocky wall, careful not to draw attention. The fight was intense, with kunai and shuriken slicing through the air, their metallic whir punctuated by the occasional explosion of ninjutsu. Sparks flew as blades clashed, the sheer force of each blow shaking loose small rocks from the cliffside.

"What's Kiri doing here?" Renjiro wondered, his crimson Sharingan activating instinctively as he analyzed the battlefield. Kirigakure attacking Kumogakure on land was not unusual.

Given their proximity, Kiri would have had the advantage by launching an assault from their shores. But then, Renjiro realized the cleverness of their strategy.

"Kumo's probably fortified their coastline," he reasoned. "They wouldn't expect Kiri to go for a land-based assault instead." It was a bold move, and judging by the fierce battle unfolding, it had caught Kumo off guard. Still, the Kumo shinobi had the upper hand in numbers, surrounding the smaller group of Kiri shinobi with relentless precision. Despite this, the Kiri shinobi fought back fiercely, their movements calculated and efficient. One kunoichi in particular caught Renjiro's attention.

She was young, her pale grey hair a stark contrast to her dark eyes, which burned with an intensity that made even the seasoned Kumo shinobi hesitate.

Her attire was minimal, exposing much of her alabaster skin, which seemed reckless at first glance. But as Renjiro's gaze sharpened, he understood why.

"Crack!"

Her arm twisted unnaturally, and sharp, bone-like protrusions burst from her flesh. She wielded them effortlessly, slashing through her opponents with precision and speed.

'The Kaguya clan,' Renjiro thought, his expression darkening. The clan's Shikotsumyaku, the ability to manipulate their bones as deadly weapons, was a rare and terrifying kekkei genkai both in Kirigakure and the shinobi world in general.

This kunoichi was no exception, her attacks feral yet controlled, her every movement a dance of death. Renjiro's muscles tensed as he watched her cut down a Kumo shinobi with a fluid strike, her bone blade glinting in the dim light.

But Kumo's numbers were overwhelming, pressing down on the Kiri shinobi like an unrelenting tide. Still, the kunoichi moved with a grace that Renjiro couldn't help but admire. She darted between her opponents like a shadow, her movements fluid and precise, every step purposeful. Her strikes were swift yet controlled, the sharp crack of bone blades meeting steel punctuating the chaos around her. Despite the intensity of the fight, her expression remained focused, her dark eyes glinting with calculated intent.

Renjiro watched as she performed a seamless backflip to avoid a volley of shuriken, her body arching like a dancer's mid-leap. Landing lightly on her toes, she spun with deadly elegance, the bone weapon in her hand carving an arc of destruction through two Kumo shinobi who had underestimated her reach. The faint whistle of her blade cutting through the air was followed by the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground. She exuded a lethal beauty that made her stand out even amid the chaos of battle.

Then came the signal. The kunoichi snarled something sharp and commanding to her comrades, and Renjiro caught the subtle hand gesture that followed—a retreat. Without hesitation, the Kiri shinobi broke away from the fight, their movements coordinated despite the overwhelming odds. The kunoichi lingered a moment longer, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield as if memorizing every detail. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in her eyes, a fierce determination that suggested this skirmish was far from over.

Finally, she turned and vanished into the shadows, her retreat as smooth as her attacks. Renjiro released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, the image of her deadly grace etched into his mind. "Smart move," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant clash of steel.

The last thing he needed was to get caught in their crossfire. He silently backtracked, his movements careful and deliberate. Blending into the jagged terrain, he put as much distance as possible between himself and the outpost.

'I need to find another way into Kumogakure,' he thought grimly, the encounter leaving him uneasy. The presence of Kiri shinobi near Kumo's borders was a complication he hadn't anticipated. If they were conducting coordinated attacks, it meant the Land of Lightning's defences would be even tighter than usual.

As Renjiro moved through the rocky landscape, his senses prickled. The air seemed to shift, a subtle but distinct change that sent a shiver down his spine. His Sharingan flared to life, scanning the area for any signs of movement. A faint whistle reached his ears, and his instincts screamed at him to move.

In a split second, Renjiro leapt into action, forming a shadow clone with a quick hand sign. The clone propelled him upward, its hands gripping his feet and launching him higher into the air. Another clone appeared above him, pulling him to the peak of a nearby ridge. Below, the ground he had been standing on was riddled with sharp, bone-like protrusions that jutted out violently from the earth.

Renjiro's eyes narrowed as he landed gracefully on the ridge, his gaze locking onto a figure emerging from the shadows. The kunoichi from earlier stepped forward, her grey hair billowing in the wind.

Her dark eyes bore into his, a sinister smile curling her lips. The remnants of her bone weapons gleamed in the dim light, a chilling reminder of her deadly power.

"We've been waiting for you, Uzumaki Renjiro," she said, her voice cold and confident.

Renjiro's jaw tightened, his mind racing. The fact that she knew his name meant this was no coincidence. "Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath, his expression darkening. "Again?"