Kapitel 328: 327-New Jichuriki?

The caravan master, a grizzled man with a missing tooth and an air of perpetual suspicion, called out to the group. "We'll reach the gates by sundown! Keep your wits about you—city guards are quick to seize anything they think ain't right."

Renjiro adjusted his cloak, pulling the hood further over his face.

The bustling checkpoint of Miyahira sprawled before them. Guards moved with military precision, their flak jackets gleaming under the sun as they scrutinized every entrant.

The scent of roasted meat and spices wafted from nearby food stalls catering to travellers, blending oddly with the tension in the air. A group of shinobi was stationed at the entrance, each scanning the incoming crowd with unwavering focus.

'This is such a secure place for such an ordinary town,' Renjiro mused under his breath, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

His sharp eyes darted from one shinobi to another, noting the smooth coordination between their movements. Despite the serene façade of the town, the security was anything but typical.

Although he couldn't use his chakra field, Renjiro's instincts served him well. He carefully assessed the strength of each shinobi by the way they carried themselves, their subtle auras, and the precision in their gestures. 'Jonin, Jonin, another Jonin... far too many for a place like this.' His thoughts lingered on the unspoken implication.

Renjiro was not surprised, though. Kumo's unique military structure made this plausible. Unlike Konoha, which centralized its power within the village, Kumogakure dispersed its forces strategically across the Land of Lightning.

This decentralization ensured that, in the event of a major attack, the village could quickly reestablish control from another location. Miyahira, as a vital trading hub, was naturally fortified.

The caravan inched forward. Travellers ahead of Renjiro were being checked in small groups, five columns dividing the influx of people. Each column led to an open area where sensory nin monitored chakra signatures.

Renjiro's gaze lingered on the sensory team. Their faces were calm, but their hands moved in intricate seals as they processed each individual.

He adjusted his hat slightly, hiding the furrow of his brow. From the information he had gathered, Kumo had developed a method to detect hidden shinobi among civilians by analyzing chakra patterns. The seal on his body—it had to work.

Renjiro stepped forward when his turn arrived. The shinobi in charge, a wiry man with sharp eyes, patted him down methodically. "What's in the bag?" the guard asked, motioning to the satchel slung over Renjiro's shoulder.

"Dried fish and salt," Renjiro replied with an easy grin, his tone relaxed but unassuming. The guard opened the satchel and gave it a quick inspection before waving him toward the open area.

As Renjiro crossed the threshold into the sensory zone, his heart thudded once, but his expression betrayed nothing. He had spent hours preparing for this moment, using a self-created seal that completely suppressed his chakra.

Unlike a chakra-draining seal, this seal didn't absorb energy; it merely locked it away, rendering him indistinguishable from an ordinary civilian, at least that was the intended effect.

From the corner of his eye, Renjiro noticed one of the sensory nin, a young shinobi with an air of nervous energy, whispering to his companion. "That merchant..." the sensory nin, whose name tag read Riku, murmured, "...he doesn't have a lick of chakra on him. That's strange, isn't it?"

The senior shinobi beside him, a burly man named Tetsu, chuckled. "Relax, kid. Some civilians have such low chakra reserves it barely registers. It's your first week on duty, isn't it?"

"Yes, but—"

"Don't overthink it," Tetsu interrupted, clapping Riku on the shoulder. "Not everyone's out to get us. You'll get used to the anomalies soon enough."

Riku hesitated before nodding. "Right... I'll let it go this time."

"Good. Now focus."

Renjiro allowed a faint smile to ghost across his lips as he continued into the city without issue. Once inside, he exhaled a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Renjiro moved deeper into Miyahira, blending seamlessly into the throng of merchants and townsfolk. He passed bustling market stalls, their vibrant wares on display, and children darting between the crowd, their laughter adding to the city's lively atmosphere.

The seal he had employed was a testament to his ingenuity. It was designed to lock away his chakra entirely, making him seem like a mundane individual. Such a tool had immense potential—not just for espionage missions like this one but also for containing dangerous shinobi.

'Maybe I should consider selling it to the clan', Renjiro thought, his mind wandering to the possibilities.

ANBU missions were his primary duty, but they were far from his only source of income. Crafting and selling seals was a lucrative venture, one that allowed him a modicum of financial independence.

Yet, the seal was not without its drawbacks. Even now, he felt an uncomfortable bloat, as though his suppressed chakra was pressing against the confines of his body.

The sensation was manageable for him, but it would likely be unbearable for someone with a larger chakra pool.

'I wonder how Kushina would react if she used this seal,' he mused with a faint smirk.

'Though I doubt it'd even work on her.'

Renjiro stopped in a secluded alley and created a shadow clone, channeling a significant amount of chakra into it. The clone retained the seal's effect, appearing equally devoid of chakra, which ensured it wouldn't arouse suspicion. The clone remained behind to mingle with the crowds, while the original Renjiro slipped away into the shadows.

Renjiro moved like a phantom through the less populated areas of the city, his steps light and deliberate. The air carried the mingling scents of roasted meat, spilled alcohol, and the faint tang of smoke from the taverns that catered to exhausted shinobi and merchants alike.

He kept to the edges, slipping between the shadows cast by tightly packed buildings, his presence a whisper in the noise of the evening.

His eyes scanned the surroundings constantly, cataloging every detail—the placement of patrolling guards, the subtle positioning of defensive seals etched into the walls, and the occasional rooftop silhouette that betrayed a sentry's hidden perch.

'Kumo isn't taking any chances. This isn't just paranoia—it's preparation.'

Renjiro's ears caught snippets of conversation here and there, most of it trivial: complaints about long shifts, boasts of exaggerated exploits, or grumbles about prices at the market. But he didn't stop until he heard something that piqued his interest.

Rounding a corner near the back of a smoke-filled tavern, he spotted two shinobi leaning against the wall, their postures relaxed but their voices laced with tension.

A faint curl of smoke wafted from the pipe one of them held, its ember glowing like a watchful eye in the dim light. Renjiro eased closer, keeping to the shadows, his breath measured and his footsteps silent.

"Man, things've been crazy lately," one of them grumbled, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. His voice was raspy, the kind of tone that suggested too many late nights and far too little rest.

"Tell me about it," the other replied, his tone lighter but edged with frustration. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a day's worth of tension.

"More patrols, tighter security... I can't even remember the last time we got a break."

Renjiro tilted his head slightly, focusing his attention on their words while keeping one eye on their body language.

The first shinobi chuckled darkly, a sound devoid of real humor. "Guess that's what happens when you're about to host a big event. All eyes are on us now."

Renjiro's brow furrowed slightly 'A big event?'

His mind raced through the possibilities. Kumo's leadership didn't often make public moves without reason, and if this was enough to warrant increased security in a hub like Miyahira, it was likely critical.

"What event?" the second shinobi asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned in slightly.

"You haven't heard?" The first leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Renjiro strained to catch every word, his instincts sharpening like a blade on a whetstone. "Word is, we're about to get a new Jinchūriki."

The world seemed to slow for a moment as the words sank in. Renjiro's eyes widened slightly, his body tensing instinctively in the shadows.

'A new Jinchūriki?'

His mind raced, piecing together the implications. Jinchūriki were the heart of any village's military power—a living weapon capable of turning the tide in any conflict. If Kumo was in the process of selecting or creating a new one, it was an event of monumental importance. It explained the heightened security, the restless shinobi, and the palpable tension in the air.

The second shinobi let out a low whistle, his expression a mixture of surprise and unease. "No wonder they've been running us ragged. Still, a new Jinchūriki, huh? I thought the Raikage was satisfied with how things were."

The first shrugged, taking another long drag from his pipe. The ember flared briefly before dimming again. "Things change. Besides, with all the whispers of unrest and rogue groups sniffing around, it makes sense to shore up our defenses. A new Jinchūriki would be a serious deterrent."

"Yeah, but it's not like we don't already have B—"

"Shh," the first cut him off sharply, glancing around. His eyes lingered on the shadows for a moment, narrowing as if sensing something amiss. Renjiro froze, his body melding further into the darkness, his breath barely a whisper.

After a tense moment, the first shinobi exhaled and shook his head. "Don't go blabbing about that here. You never know who's listening."

The second nodded sheepishly. "Right. Sorry."

=====

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Kapitel 329: 328-Arrival

The two Kumo shinobi finished their smoking session with languid movements, stubbing out their pipes against the wall and flicking the remains onto the ground. One of them gave a lazy stretch, muttering something unintelligible about an upcoming shift, while the other nodded in agreement.

"Better get moving before the captain has our heads," the raspy-voiced shinobi said, his tone half-serious, half-resigned.

With a faint rustle of fabric, they disappeared into the night, their footsteps blending with the distant hum of activity from Miyahira.

Renjiro remained in the shadows, his breath even and measured as he watched them leave. When he was certain he was alone, he allowed his thoughts to surface.

'Is this what Jiraiya meant?'

Jiraiya had spoken in passing about Kumogakure's rumoured breakthroughs in harnessing tailed beast power. Renjiro's mind churned as he pieced the puzzle together. The idea of Kumo choosing a new Jinchūriki now, of all times, was too convenient to be a coincidence.

'No,' Renjiro thought, 'He said breakthroughs. This isn't just about picking someone new—it's about enhancing them, making their Jinchūriki a weapon even deadlier than before.'

His gaze turned distant, and his thoughts narrowed in on the implications. 'Killer Bee is already the Jinchūriki of the Eight-Tails, so they must be talking about Matatabi, the Two-Tails.'

Renjiro's jaw tightened as he considered the process of getting a new Jinchūriki.

It wasn't just a logistical operation—it was a moment of vulnerability for any shinobi village. The act of transferring or containing a tailed beast could cause chaos, and even the most carefully laid plans could crumble under the weight of unforeseen disasters.

He thought of Kushina and the stories she had shared with him about the fragile balance of being a Jinchūriki.

The image of Kushina giving birth flashed in his mind—a future event fraught with danger, not just from the inherent risks of childbirth but from the delicate control required to keep the Nine-Tails in check. Everything had to be perfect despite it being a volatile situation where everything could go wrong.

Renjiro sighed quietly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the distant rooftops. 'Kumo's security isn't even enough. They're confident, but confidence can be a double-edged sword.'

It puzzled him.

Kumogakure had a reputation for strategic brilliance, yet Miyahira's security didn't reflect the gravity of the situation. Perhaps they underestimated the risks, or perhaps they believed their defensive measures were impenetrable.

"But still," Renjiro whispered to himself, his voice barely audible against the night breeze, "why did Hashirama even share the tailed beasts in the first place?"

It was a question that had long lingered in the back of his mind. Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, had divided the tailed beasts among the shinobi villages as a gesture of peace, yet the act had only fueled an arms race.

Dealing with the tailed beasts was no small feat—villages poured endless resources into controlling them, and the beasts themselves were as much a liability as they were an asset.

'Was it naïveté or foresight?' Renjiro mused. 'Did Hashirama believe the villages would be forced to cooperate, or did he simply want to share the burden of their destruction?'

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Philosophical debates wouldn't help him now. What mattered was the present, and the fact that Kumo's advancements with tailed beasts could tip the balance of power in their favour.

'I need to see their research facility.'

Renjiro moved with purpose, his steps silent as he navigated the winding streets of Miyahira. The town was deceptively lively for the late hour—merchants unloading goods, shinobi patrolling in pairs, and the occasional civilian hurrying home.

Despite the activity, Renjiro slipped through unnoticed, his transformation technique flawless and his instincts guiding him away from potential threats.

It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for.

It was easier than he expected as the research facility stood at the heart of Miyahira, an imposing structure that dominated the skyline. Its architecture was a testament to Kumogakure's engineering prowess—sleek and modern, with reinforced walls that seemed to shimmer faintly under the glow of nearby lanterns.

The building was surrounded by layers of defences: high walls etched with intricate seals, watchtowers manned by sharp-eyed shinobi, and patrols that moved with military precision.

Renjiro crouched on a rooftop a safe distance away, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"I take it back," he muttered under his breath. "This thing is heavily guarded."

The facility's presence was a statement in itself. It wasn't just a research centre—it was a fortress, a nerve centre for Kumogakure's most ambitious projects. Renjiro couldn't help but compare it to Konoha's facilities, and for once, he found himself begrudgingly impressed.

'They're not pulling any punches. This place might even rival what we have back home.'

But it wasn't the architecture or the seals that unsettled him—it was the chakra.

Renjiro's instincts prickled as he focused on the individuals stationed throughout the facility. Without even activating his Sharingan or expanding his chakra field, he could sense their overwhelming presence. Six shinobi, their power radiating like bonfires in the night, were stationed at key points around the perimeter.

"Six S-rank shinobi… and they're broadcasting their presence like warning bells," Renjiro muttered under his breath.

The shinobi guarding the facility weren't just stationed—they were flaunting their power, their chakra signatures blazing like beacons. Each of them seemed to claim a portion of the perimeter, daring any would-be infiltrators to make a move.

'If this is the outside, what's inside must be something Kumo wants to protect at all costs.'

Renjiro adjusted his position, scanning the facility for weaknesses. He knew this wasn't going to be simple. The security measures were layered, each more formidable than the last.

'Getting in will take everything I have—and even then, it might not be enough.'

As Renjiro plotted his next steps, the faint sound of commotion reached his ears. It was distant at first, a ripple of noise from the direction of the town's main gate. He ignored it at first, focusing instead on mapping the guards' movements, but the sound grew louder—a steady drumbeat of footsteps and low voices.

Unbeknownst to Renjiro, a group of shinobi was entering Miyahira under the cover of night. Twenty strong, their ranks were composed of elite chūnin and jōnin, each moving with disciplined precision. At their centre was an old woman who stood out starkly against the youthful energy of her comrades.

Hano Ayame.

Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight, tied neatly into a bun that hinted at her meticulous and aggressive nature. Though her face was lined with the marks of age, her posture was unyielding, and her steps carried a quiet power. She wore the traditional Kumogakure uniform, but the intricate embroidery on her cloak marked her as someone of great importance.

The other shinobi flanked her like an honour guard, their wary glances scanning their surroundings even as they maintained formation. Despite the presence of over twenty skilled fighters, it was Ayame who commanded the most attention.

Her chakra radiated outward, a simmering heat that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. To those sensitive enough to feel it, it was a silent declaration: 'I am the Jinchūriki of the Two-Tails. Challenge me at your peril.'

The group passed through the streets of Miyahira, their arrival noted by the watchful eyes of the townspeople. Whispers followed in their wake—rumours and speculations that only added to the mystique surrounding Ayame.

Back in the shadows, Renjiro remained oblivious to the arrival. His focus was entirely on the research facility, the guards, and the daunting task ahead. But even as he continued his surveillance, the pieces of Kumogakure's grand strategy were falling into place around him, their implications far greater than he could yet comprehend.