Clone memories, Renjiro thought, his gaze sweeping across the terrain. This is where the clone was dispelled. The clearing should be nearby.
"Slow down," he said, his voice cutting through the wind.
Uno's head turned slightly, her bright eye catching his.
"I don't see a landing zone," she said. "Where am I supposed to land?"
"You're not."
She paused, her wings adjusting, her speed decreasing.
"What do you mean, I'm not?"
"I'll jump."
Uno's feathers ruffled—a gesture that might have been disbelief or amusement.
"Humans are strange."
"I've been told that before."
She slowed further, her flight becoming almost stationary, hovering on massive wings that beat with slow, powerful strokes. The clearing was visible now—a scar of open ground in the dense forest, marked by the remains of the ambush. Broken trees, scorched earth, the faint traces of chakra that still lingered.
"A little north," Renjiro directed. "Now east. Slow down. Here."
The clearing was directly below them.
Renjiro's Adamantine Chains dissolved, the silver links fading into chakra mist. The wind, which had been held at bay by the chains, now assaulted him with full force. His cloak snapped violently behind him, the fabric cracking like a whip.
His long red locs whipped across his face, stinging his eyes, but he did not blink. He stood upright on Uno's back, his balance perfect, his posture relaxed.
"Do you need me for the fight?" Uno asked, her voice carrying a note of concern.
Renjiro didn't even hesitate.
"No."
He stepped off.
"I'll handle this myself."
Uno watched him fall, her bright eyes tracking his descent. Then she banked and climbed, heading back to the Floating Islands.
The ground rushed toward Renjiro at terrifying speed. Wind roared in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. His cloak streamed upward, his hair whipped around his face, and the world became a blur of green and brown and gold. But he was not afraid. He was calm, analytical, his mind already preparing for the confrontation ahead.
He expanded his chakra field, the invisible pulse spreading outward, brushing against the trees, the earth, the creatures hiding in the underbrush. And there, there, he sensed it.
Orochimaru.
Massive chakra, distinct, familiar, unmistakable. The Snake Sannin was not hiding. He was not concealing his presence. He was standing in the clearing, waiting, watching.
He knows I'm here.
Renjiro's Sharingan activated, the three tomoe spinning into focus. The world sharpened, colours deepened, and he saw him—a pale figure, standing in the centre of the clearing, his face tilted upward, his yellow eyes gleaming.
Sharingan versus snake eyes.
The ground was approaching rapidly. Renjiro's chains erupted from his chest, embedding themselves into trees, into the earth, into the rocky outcroppings at the edge of the clearing. The chains strained, groaning under the force of his descent, their links glowing with chakra. The ground cracked beneath him, dust erupting in a cloud.
And then—stillness.
Renjiro landed lightly, perfectly balanced, his chains retracting, his cloak settling around him. He stood at the edge of the clearing, facing Orochimaru across a stretch of trampled grass and broken earth.
They stared at each other.
Orochimaru began to clap.
Slowly. Deliberately. Each strike of palm against palm echoing through the clearing like a mockery of applause.
"Using a shadow clone to track me for all this time," Orochimaru said, his voice smooth, almost admiring. "How quaint. Tell me, did Minato flip a coin and you lost, or did he simply decide that the Jonin Commander's life was expendable?"
He stepped forward, his movements unhurried, his robes trailing behind him.
"I expected Jiraiya at the very least. Maybe even the Hokage himself, if he felt particularly bold." He tilted his head, studying Renjiro with those cold, reptilian eyes.
"But this? This is disappointing."
Renjiro did not react. Did not offer any of the responses Orochimaru clearly expected.
"You think I'm here on the Hokage's orders."
It was not a question. It was a realisation.
Orochimaru's smile flickered; just slightly, just enough to show that the response had not been anticipated.
"Are you not?"
"No."
The silence returned, heavier now, charged with the weight of misunderstanding.
Orochimaru recovered quickly, his smile widening, his eyes glittering.
"Then why are you here? Surely you didn't track me across the continent, dismantle my supply lines, and destroy my caravan for your own amusement." He spread his arms, gesturing at the clearing, at the evidence of the ambush, at the children who were no longer there.
"You are Jonin Commander of Konoha. You serve the Hokage. Your actions reflect the village's interests."
He paused.
"So tell me, Renjiro—are you a hunter? Or are you simply a lost dog, barking at shadows?"
The insult was deliberate, designed to provoke, to draw out emotion, to force a reaction that Orochimaru could exploit.
Renjiro gave him nothing.
"I've been wanting a body like yours for a very long time," Orochimaru continued, his voice dropping, becoming almost intimate. "Uchiha blood. Uzumaki vitality. The Mangekyō Sharingan. You are... exceptional. A rare convergence of bloodlines that should not exist."
He stepped closer.
"Perhaps this is not an insult. Perhaps it is a gift. Perhaps Minato, in his wisdom, decided to offer you to me as a gesture of goodwill."
Renjiro's eyes narrowed.
"You think Konoha sent me as tribute?"
"I think Konoha sent you as a hunting dog. But I intend to keep you as something else."
The pieces clicked into place.
Orochimaru thought he was here on Konoha's orders. He thought the village had finally decided to eliminate him, and that Renjiro was the instrument of that elimination. It was logical—almost inevitable, given the circumstances. A shadow clone tracking him across the continent. Supply lines destroyed. Caravans attacked. And now, the Jonin Commander himself, standing in a clearing, ready to fight.
How did I not consider this possibility? Renjiro thought, a flicker of self-recrimination passing through him. Of course, Orochimaru would assume Konoha sent me. What else would he think? That I'm here for myself? That I'm hunting him for my own purposes?
But that's exactly why I'm here.
He thought of the months of investigation, the abandoned facilities, the cold trails.
This was never about Konoha. This was always about me.
Orochimaru was still speaking, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic.
"The Living Corpse Reincarnation is a delicate art," he said. "The vessel must be compatible. The body must be strong. The soul must be... malleable."
He smiled.
"I think you will suit me perfectly."
Renjiro's thoughts sharpened.
Living Corpse Reincarnation. Body transfer. Immortality. Has he already succeeded in perfecting the jutsu? If yes, this situation is significantly worse.
He muttered under his breath, barely audible.
"This is such a sticky situation."
Orochimaru paused.
"What?"
The word was sharp, cutting through the smooth cadence of his speech. He had not expected Renjiro to mutter. He had not expected confusion.
Renjiro met his gaze.
"You've misread the situation completely," he said. His voice was calm, steady, stripped of the tension that had been building. "Minato didn't send me. No one did. The village doesn't even know I'm here."
Orochimaru's smile faltered.
It was slight; barely perceptible, but Renjiro caught it. The first genuine surprise he had seen on the Snake Sannin's face.
"Then why are you here?"
"I'm your potential patient."
Orochimaru stared at him, his yellow eyes widening; just slightly, just enough to show that his assumptions had been shattered, that the foundation of his understanding had crumbled.
"My... patient?"
"Yes."
Orochimaru's composure returned, his smile reforming, his posture relaxing. But there was a new intensity in his gaze, a hunger that had not been there before.
"A rogue jonin, then. Hunting me not for the village, but for himself." He laughed—a soft, amused sound. "Unexpected. Fascinating."
He tilted his head.
"Patient for what, exactly? Did you finally realise that your Mangekyō is destroying itself? That those beautiful eyes are deteriorating even now, burning away with every use?"
Renjiro immediately thought, No surprise that Orochimaru knows about the Mangekyō. His intelligence network is enormous. And my eyes aren't exactly a secret anymore.
"The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan," Renjiro said, his voice flat. "I need it."
Orochimaru's interest sharpened.
"The Eternal Mangekyō. Yes. The evolution that stops the deterioration. The fusion of two Mangekyō into one." He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on Renjiro's face. "But you have no blood sibling. No close relative with awakened eyes. Without that, transplantation is... problematic."
"I don't have a blood sibling," Renjiro agreed. "But I do possess something that should make transplantation theoretically possible."
He paused.
"Hashirama Cells."
=====
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