Kapitel 331: 330-Ordered Chaos

The mood in the facility shifted the moment Hano Ayame arrived. Renjiro noticed it instantly, not because of her chakra—though that was undoubtedly immense—but because the air itself seemed to grow heavier, crackling with unspoken tension.

The once-efficient movements of the guards became sharper, their patrols more deliberate, and their eyes sharper, as if compelled by the invisible weight of her presence.

Renjiro, concealed in the facility's shadows, let his Sharingan whirl to life, the crimson glow reflecting faintly in the dim light of the corridor. His heightened senses caught every subtle change.

"The guards are also changing their patrolling patterns," he mused silently.

From his vantage point, he observed their movements closely. Their usual rotations, which had been evenly distributed throughout the facility, shifted focus. Now they were clustering near sensitive areas, their pacing more frequent.

Shortly after these changes, Renjiro caught his first glimpse of Hano Ayame. Her hair shimmered faintly under the facility's harsh lights. Her aura was as commanding as her reputation suggested.

"So, she is Matatabi's jinchūriki," Renjiro thought, his expression neutral but his mind racing.

Through his Sharingan, he could see the faint flickers of her chakra, far deeper and more expansive than those of any ordinary shinobi.

The Sharingan, while not as adept as the Byakugan at detailing chakra flows, offered glimpses that were more than sufficient for someone with Renjiro's experience.

What he saw astounded him—Hano's chakra reserves felt like an ocean, vast and unending.

The sensation reminded him of only one other person: Kushina Uzumaki. Kushina's chakra had been similarly overwhelming, a potent mix of her own reserves and the immense power of Kurama, the Nine-Tails. But now, as he compared the two, doubt crept into his thoughts.

'Wait... her chakra reserves are larger than Kushina's?' Renjiro frowned, narrowing his eyes as he focused on Hano.

'That doesn't make any sense. Kurama should have more chakra than Matatabi. Was Kushina holding back?'

The thought gnawed at him. He remembered a time years ago when he'd accidentally entered Kushina's consciousness while attempting to use genjutsu on her during a training session.

Even then, the sheer scale of her chakra had been daunting. Yet here he was, sensing something even greater from Hano.

He shook his head, dispelling the distraction. 'Enough staring. This is a perfect opportunity,' he muttered to himself as his figure blurred into motion, vanishing silently into the facility's labyrinth of corridors.

Meanwhile, deep within the facility, Taira, the seasoned S-rank shinobi overseeing security, felt the first ripple of disturbance. His chakra field, a near-flawless sensory web extending across the entire compound, registered a faint fluctuation at its edge. His sharp mind immediately analyzed the anomaly.

'Who could it be?' Taira wondered, his brows knitting together. With a flicker, his form vanished, reappearing near the disturbance within moments.

As he moved, his thoughts raced. The possibility of an intruder had already been considered, given the sensitive nature of the transfer ceremony.

But what remained to be determined was the identity of the intruder. Was it Konoha? Iwa? Kiri? or even Suna? Each possibility carried its own implications.

Yet just as Taira reached the area, he froze in his tracks. Another fluctuation pulsed within his field, this one farther away but equally distinct.

"Huh... another one?" Taira tilted his head in confusion, his mind sharpening further.

Before he could decide which disturbance required his attention, another ripple emerged, faint but deliberate. Then another, and another, each one igniting within his chakra field like a spark to dry tinder.

Soon, the entire facility was alive with at least twenty-five distinct anomalies, scattered across its labyrinthine layout as if mocking the very concept of order.

"Are the other villages working together?" Taira muttered under his breath, disbelief flickering across his usually impassive face.

The notion was absurd—Konoha, Iwa, and Kiri joining forces against Kumogakure? It defied logic. Yet the sheer scale and coordination of the disturbances forced him to consider the possibility, no matter how improbable.

While Shinobi villages were known to be opportunistic, they all shared some deep-rooted hate towards them which was accrued through the last two major shinobi wars.

Gritting his teeth, Taira refocused, suppressing his rising unease. With a determined scowl, he vanished in a flicker, reappearing at the nearest disturbance.

Chaos greeted him.

The corridor, normally dim and sterile, was illuminated by bursts of clashing chakra. A patrolling squad, their Kumogakure insignias gleaming, was locked in fierce combat with three assailants. The air crackled with tension, the acrid scent of ozone mixing with the metallic tang of sweat and blood.

"Raijin Strike!" one of the guards bellowed, their voice cutting through the cacophony. With a swift series of hand signs, they formed a spear of pure lightning, its crackling tendrils casting jagged shadows against the walls. The spear hissed as it cut through the air, striking one of the attackers and forcing them to stagger back, sparks exploding from the impact like miniature fireworks.

Taira's sharp eyes scanned the scene, his mind working at lightning speed. His heart sank as he recognized the assailants.

"Ogura Fuji... Ren Sato... Kana Ichigo." He named them under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief.

These weren't foreign shinobi, as he'd initially suspected. They were rogue ninja from Kumogakure, individuals who had abandoned their village and vanished into obscurity.

"Ogura?" Taira's voice dropped, tinged with something bordering on sorrow. Ogura Fuji had once been his friend—a brother-in-arms he had trained with as a child.

They had shared missions, meals, and dreams of shaping Kumogakure's future together. Now, seeing him here, aligned against his own, felt like a cruel twist of fate.

But it wasn't just Ogura's presence that unsettled Taira. It was the technique he was using.

Ogura's hands blurred through a series of hand signs, summoning a torrent of water that surged forward with the force of a tidal wave. The liquid crashed against the patrollers' lightning techniques, neutralizing their attacks with unsettling precision.

"Water Release?" Taira's mind reeled as he observed the fluidity and strength of the jutsu.

'Ogura always struggled with water nature jutsus. How...?'

His eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. The pieces began to fall into place, each revelation more damning than the last.

"These aren't the real ones," he muttered, his voice firm with conviction.

Channelling his chakra, Taira formed a crackling lightning spear in his palm. The energy pulsed violently, illuminating the corridor with a blinding blue-white glow. Sparks danced along his arm as he steadied his aim, his resolve as unyielding as steel.

"Let's end this quickly," he declared, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. With a flick of his wrist, the spear shot forward, its trajectory precise and unrelenting.

The lightning struck Ogura squarely in the chest. For a moment, the figure froze, its form flickering like a faulty projection. Then, with a loud poof, it dissipated into a cloud of smoke.

'Konoha,' Taira thought immediately, his mind racing to connect the dots. The use of shadow clones was a hallmark of Konoha's shadow clone, and this had all the hallmarks of their strategic misdirection.

But his confusion deepened as the other two assailants fell in quick succession. One crumbled into dust, disintegrating as if made of brittle earth, just like Iwa's Earth Clone. The other dissolved into a pool of water, ripples spreading outward before fading into nothingness, just like Kiri's Water clones.

"Clever," Taira muttered, his tone begrudgingly impressed. His sharp gaze lingered on the remains of the clones, his mind turning over the implications. "Now we can't be sure if it was Kiri, Konoha, or Iwa."

The techniques used were too varied, too deliberate. Each one bore the signature of a different village's specialty, sowing seeds of doubt and confusion. Whoever was orchestrating this attack was a master of deception, playing on Kumogakure's rivalries to create discord and uncertainty.

Before he could dwell on it further, his chakra field pulsed again, tugging at his senses like a warning bell. Another disturbance had appeared, this one more distinct and ominous than the others.

Taira's face hardened, his lips pulling into a tight line. The clones were a diversion, that much was clear. But for what purpose? His field encompassed nearly the entire facility, yet the enemy seemed to slip through it like shadows, eluding his grasp.

=====

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Kapitel 332: 331-Misdirection

The chamber was bathed in an eerie blue glow, flickering and pulsating in rhythm with the intricate seals that adorned the walls and floor. At its centre, Hano Ayame, her wiry frame tense with strain, lay strapped to a stone altar.

Tani, her soon-to-be replacement, stood nearby, her hands trembling as she clutched the edges of her ceremonial robes. It seemed she was questioning if she was ready for this lifelong mission.

Kudo stood over them, his gnarled hands poised in mid-air, fingers dancing through a series of precise, deliberate movements.

The process was well underway. Tendrils of chakra, wild and untamed, snaked through the chamber like living flames, coiling and writhing as if resisting their fate.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning incense and the metallic tang of blood—Hano's blood, which trickled from her bitten lip in defiant silence.

Kudo winced, his weathered face contorting.

{A/N: I made a mistake in the previous chapter by mistaking Kudo and Taira but I have already updated the changes.}

He wasn't just feeling the strain of Matatabi's chaotic chakra—no, that would've been manageable on its own. It was the noise outside, the constant explosions and the distant thwack of jutsus clashing against one another, that grated on his nerves. The walls vibrated faintly with each distant detonation, the chaos seeping through like water through a cracked dam.

"I told that brat to ensure there was no disturbance," Kudo muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with irritation. "But he didn't listen."

His voice, though low, carried the weight of someone who had endured centuries of unmet expectations.

And indeed, Kudo had lived long enough to harbour such grievances. His uncle, Kosuke Goto, had been the First Raikage, the founder of Kumogakure.

Kudo had witnessed the village's birth from a cluster of warring clans into a formidable shinobi nation. Through it all, he had remained in the shadows, honing his craft in fuinjutsu—a discipline that, at the time, had been dismissed as unnecessary when Uzushiogakure's mastery reigned supreme.

The shinobi world had relied on Uzushio's seals for decades. Why bother cultivating their own fuinjutsu experts when they could simply barter with the neutral and benevolent Uzumaki?

But Kudo had seen the writing on the wall. He had persevered, mastering a craft that few cared to pursue. His efforts had borne fruit when Uzushio allied itself with Konoha, when Senju Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito tied the knot, shifting the power balance and forcing the other villages to realize the value of self-reliance.

By the time Uzushio fell after the other shinobi villages became fed up with their cooperation with Konoha, Kudo had already established Kumogakure's fuinjutsu department, becoming its foremost authority.

And now, decades later, here he stood, the architect of Kumogakure's jinchuriki program. The transfer of the tailed beasts—the Two-Tails, Matatabi, and the Eight-Tails, Gyuki—was his responsibility.

A sharp crack from outside made Kudo grimace again, his concentration faltering for a split second. He took a deep breath, forcing the external chaos from his mind. He had performed this ritual more than he would have hoped, but the stakes were always high.

One misstep could lead to disaster.

"Focus," Kudo muttered to himself, his voice a low growl.

He pressed his hands firmly against the cold, unyielding surface of the altar, activating the intricate network of seals carved into it. The response was immediate—a surge of energy coursed through the room as the tattoos etched onto Hano's aged and weathered skin came alive.

Lines of ink, impossibly complex and glowing with an ethereal blue light, spread like veins of lightning over her frail body. The chamber was momentarily bathed in an otherworldly glow, the light flickering as though the energy itself was unstable.

Hano's body reacted violently, her muscles spasming as if struck by an unseen force. She arched off the altar, her wiry frame straining against the unseen force that held her in place.

A guttural sound escaped her lips, a mix between a grunt and a gasp, as she clenched her teeth harder. A single tear broke free from the corner of her tightly shut-eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek before disappearing into the deep lines of her face.

"Damn stubborn chakra," Kudo muttered, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Despite his vast experience, Matatabi's essence was proving to be as unruly as ever. The energy wasn't just resisting—it was fighting him, lashing out like a cornered predator.

"Hano, hold on," Kudo said, his voice gruff yet carrying an undercurrent of respect. "We're almost there. You're strong. Stronger than most."

Hano's only response was a strained grunt, her hands balling into fists so tight that her knuckles turned white. Blood seeped from the crescent-shaped marks her nails left on her palms, but she didn't falter.

The seals on the altar began to change, shifting and reconfiguring as Kudo adjusted his hand movements.

Matatabi's chakra surged again, more violently this time. The tendrils coalesced into a massive wave, slamming against the barrier of Kudo's own chakra.

"You think you can resist me?" Kudo hissed under his breath, his tone almost mocking as he tightened his grip on the energy. "You've been in my hands before, Matatabi. You know how this ends."

Despite his bravado, it was clear that this was no easy task. The years had taken their toll on Kudo, and his body wasn't what it used to be. His joints ached, his muscles protested, but his mind—sharp and unyielding—kept him moving.

The seals on Hano's skin flared even brighter, the light now almost blinding. The patterns writhed as though alive, pulsating with a rhythm that matched the erratic beating of her heart. Each pulse drew more of Matatabi's essence from her, the wild chakra swirling in the air like a storm contained within the chamber's walls.

Hano's lips moved faintly, forming words that were inaudible over the cacophony of crackling chakra. Kudo leaned closer, his focus unwavering despite the chaos.

Her voice was barely a whisper, her breath shallow and ragged. "...I won't scream."

Kudo's expression softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something that might have been pride crossing his weathered face.

"You don't need to," he said quietly. "Your strength speaks louder than any scream ever could."

===

Meanwhile, Renjiro moved silently through the labyrinthine corridors of the facility. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows against the cold, stone walls, creating an almost oppressive atmosphere. The distant sounds of battle echoed faintly, a reminder of the chaos he had orchestrated.

'I need to get there quickly before my chakra runs out,' Renjiro thought, his pace quickening.

Everything was going according to plan, perhaps too perfectly. He hadn't needed to engage with any of the S-rank shinobi stationed around the facility—a fact that both relieved and unsettled him.

When the ceremony had begun, Renjiro had made his move. He had created an army of clones—shadow, water, and earth—sending them to attack different parts of the facility.

The clones served their purpose well, drawing the enemy's attention and scattering their forces. Each time one set of his clones was destroyed, Renjiro created another set, ensuring the chaos continued unabated.

The strategy was simple but effective. Most of the Kumogakure shinobi would assume his target was the ceremony, where Hano and Tani were undergoing the transfer.

But that was a misdirection.

Renjiro's true objective lay elsewhere: the office of the head of the research department, where he was certain the tailed beast research documents were stored. At least that was what he got from the memories of a shinobi he sent to his maker.

As he moved, Renjiro activated his chakra field, the very sensory technique that allowed him to manipulate the movements of the Kumo shinobi like pawns on a chessboard. Each time one neared his destination, he adjusted the placement of his clones, drawing them away.

Finally, he reached the office. The door was reinforced with seals, their faint glow visible even in the dim corridor. Renjiro channelled his chakra into a kunai, the blade humming with energy, and slashed at the seals. They shattered with a faint crackle, the sound almost lost in the distant din of battle.

The door creaked open, revealing a dark, musty room filled with shelves of scrolls and tomes. Renjiro stepped inside, the air cold against his skin. He activated his Sharingan, the crimson tomoe spinning as they pierced the darkness, searching for any traps or hidden mechanisms.

As he scanned the room, his instincts screamed at him. A chill ran down his spine, and he flickered backwards just in time.

A figure emerged from the shadows, their presence oppressive and overwhelming.

"I was wondering which village was attacking us," the man said, his voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder. He stepped into the faint light, his sharp features etched with a grim smile. "But seeing an Uchiha here... Konoha is probably behind this, right?"

Renjiro's breath hitched. He couldn't answer. Every fibre of his being was telling him one thing: this man was dangerous.