The Toad Sage had not spoken for several minutes, and the weight of his silence was heavy.
Finally, Jiraiya straightened, his dark eyes fixed on Renjiro with an intensity that belied his casual posture.
"Why are you so concerned about Rin's body?"
The question was direct, almost blunt. Jiraiya was not a man who danced around uncomfortable topics. He had seen too much, lost too much, to waste time on pretence.
Renjiro sighed. The sound was soft, almost inaudible, but it carried the weight of exhaustion—not physical, but something deeper.
"Because she died as a Six-Tails jinchūriki," he said, his voice calm, measured. "And that raises the possibility of bijū recovery by the village."
Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. "You think Konoha would extract the beast from her body?"
"I think it's a consideration that someone will have to make. Better to discuss it now than be caught off guard later."
Jiraiya studied him for a long moment, his gaze searching for something—deception, perhaps, or the hidden agenda that he suspected lurked behind Renjiro's calm facade.
"You know a lot about tailed beasts," Jiraiya said. It was not a question.
"I only know enough to understand that recovery is possible." Renjiro met his gaze without flinching. "The jinchūriki dies, the beast eventually reforms. But there are ways to accelerate that process. Kiri would know them. Others might as well."
Jiraiya's lips curved into a short, sharp laugh—not mocking, but acknowledging.
"You don't miss much, do you?"
"I try not to."
The humour faded as quickly as it had appeared. Jiraiya pushed off from the wall and began to pace, his footsteps heavy on the linoleum floor.
"The decision about Rin's body rests with the Fourth Hokage. Minato." He stopped, turning to face Renjiro. "And Minato has no intention of extracting Saiken from her."
Renjiro's expression did not change, but something in his posture shifted—a subtle relaxation, as if a tension he had not acknowledged had been released.
"Why?"
"Several reasons." Jiraiya held up his fingers, counting off. "First, Rin was his student. He knew her, trained her, watched her grow. He's not going to desecrate her body for political gain."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, even if he wanted to, extraction would be extremely difficult. Kaede reported that Saiken's chakra is heavily diluted—maybe half of what it should be, and that was before Rin Died. The beast was barely present."
A third finger.
"And third, Konoha no longer arms its enemies. If we extracted Saiken, we'd have another tailed beast. Valuable, yes. But also a target. Kiri would demand its return. Other villages would see it as a provocation. The peace we just signed would be threatened." He lowered his hand. "So we let Saiken reform naturally, somewhere in the wild. And Kiri will have to capture it themselves, if they still want it."
Renjiro nodded slowly. The logic was sound—pragmatic, ethical, strategic. Minato had thought this through, or Jiraiya had on his behalf.
"And Danzo?" Renjiro asked. "What's to stop him from making a move?"
Jiraiya's expression sharpened. His eyes, which had been thoughtful, became hard, focused.
"Danzō is being watched. Actively. I've made sure of it." He crossed his arms again, his posture defensive. "The old hawk knows that if he tries anything before Minato's inauguration, he'll be exposed. And after—well, Minato is not Hiruzen. He won't tolerate Danzō's games."
"You're certain?"
"As certain as I can be." Jiraiya's voice was low, intense.
Renjiro absorbed this, filing it away. The information was valuable, but it did not ease his unease. Danzō was a patient predator. Waiting did not mean inactive.
He shifted the conversation, steering it toward a different concern.
"Will Minato speak to Kakashi?"
Jiraiya's expression softened—just slightly, just enough to reveal the weight he was carrying.
"I don't know. Minato is overwhelmed right now. Inauguration preparations, council meetings, the Daimyō's schedule, the transition of power. He barely has time to breathe."
"Kakashi needs him." Renjiro's voice was firm. "He awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan. That's not normal trauma. That's extreme psychological damage."
Jiraiya's eyes widened. The surprise was genuine—he had not known.
"You're certain?"
"I witnessed it. When Rin died, his Sharingan evolved. The pattern changed. It's unmistakable."
Jiraiya was silent for a long moment, processing. The Mangekyō was rare, legendary, a power that came at a terrible cost. Kakashi was not even Uchiha—the eye was a transplant, a gift from Obito. The fact that it had awakened at all was extraordinary. The fact that it had awakened in response to Rin's death was devastating.
"I'll tell Minato," Jiraiya said finally, his voice heavy. "Kakashi becomes a priority. Therapy, monitoring, whatever he needs."
Renjiro nodded. There was nothing else to say.
The conversation ended. Jiraiya left first, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, fading into the distance. Renjiro remained seated for a long moment, staring at the spot where Rin's gurney had been.
Then he rose and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Outside, Konoha was alive.
Lanterns lined the main streets, their warm glow pushing back the darkness. Banners bearing the symbol of Konoha hung from every building, their red and white fabric rippling in the evening breeze. Civilians moved through the thoroughfares with an energy that had been absent during the war—laughter, conversation, the simple joy of being alive.
Renjiro walked among them, his presence unnoticed, his expression unreadable.
The contrast between the private tragedy he had just witnessed and the public celebration was almost grotesque. Rin was dead, her body cooling in some hidden room, her spirit already fading from the world. And here, people were decorating for a festival.
'The world moves on,' he thought. 'Regardless of individual loss.'
He passed a group of children chasing each other through the streets, their laughter sharp and bright. He passed a cluster of merchants hanging a banner that read "Long Live the Fourth Hokage!" in bold, calligraphic strokes. He passed a shinobi patrol, their faces alert, their postures professional, their eyes scanning the crowd for threats that might not come.
'They don't know,' he realised. 'They don't know about Rin. About the Six-Tails. About any of it.'
The knowledge was isolating. He carried secrets that could not be shared, burdens that could not be distributed. It was his role, his choice, his curse.
He continued walking, his steps carrying him toward the quieter parts of the village, toward the house that would soon be his, toward the workshop where his real work waited.
Hours passed.
The moon rose, full and silver, casting long shadows across the rooftops. The celebrations quieted, the crowds dispersing, the lanterns dimming. The village settled into the particular stillness of late night, when only the insomniacs and the guards remained awake.
Renjiro sat alone in his workshop, the master scroll of the Bijū Purification Seal unrolled before him. The lantern light was low, the shadows deep, the silence absolute.
He had not slept. Sleep was a luxury he could not afford.
His thoughts turned to the coming day—the inauguration of the Fourth Hokage, the ceremony that would mark the official transition of power, the beginning of a new era. Minato would stand before the village and accept the hat, and the people would cheer, and the world would pretend that everything was fine.
He rolled up the scroll and extinguished the lantern.
The village was quiet, but not still. Lights burned in the Hokage building, in the administrative offices, in the homes of the clan heads who were preparing for the day's ceremonies. Shinobi moved through the streets in patrols, their presence heavier than usual, their vigilance heightened.
Renjiro stood at the window of his workshop, looking out over the village. The sky was lightening, the darkness giving way to the soft grey of pre-dawn. Stars still flickered in the west, but the east was glowing, promising the sun.
'Today, everything changes,' he thought. 'Minato becomes Hokage.'
He turned from the window and began to prepare.
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