Amid the chaos of the battlefield, where the roar of thunder blended with the howling of wind and the hiss of rain pelting the earth, the very air seemed to tremble under the weight of power clashing from multiple directions. The ground was drenched, the soil churning beneath the boots of retreating and regrouping shinobi. It was into this maelstrom of water, lightning, and tension that Renjiro descended, his crimson Sharingan gleaming beneath the cascading sheets of rain, cutting through the veil of obscurity like beacons of clarity.
"Is this some sort of Kekkei Genkai like Storm Release?!" Renjiro shouted, his voice barely audible even to himself as he clung to the back of Tenjin, his massive, eagle summon whose wings beat thunderously against the churning skies.
The storm was so loud, so utterly engulfing, that even hearing his own voice required effort. Rain slammed against his face like countless icy needles. The constant boom of thunder, the sizzle of lightning lacing through vaporous clouds, and the crashing of wind-sheared torrents made every moment a cacophony of elemental chaos.
"No!" came Tenjin's response, dodging sharply as another of Renmaru's attacks whistled past them like a jet scream, barely missing their wing. "It's more advanced—some sort of Kekkei Tōta! I can sense water, lightning, and wind all intertwined!"
Renjiro's eyes widened. 'A Kekkei Tōta?' he thought grimly, 'Then this is not going to be as easy as I thought.'
He trusted Tenjin's analysis implicitly. As a beast born of chakra and nature, Tenjin's sensory perception far surpassed Renjiro's own, capable of intuiting the subtle interactions between elements in ways even a seasoned jonin would struggle with. It wasn't the first time Tenjin had seen through complex jutsu in the middle of combat, and Renjiro had long since learned to listen when his summon spoke.
"I'm going to need more from you than just transportation," Renjiro said aloud, turning slightly so Tenjin could see his expression. "We're in deep this time."
"You're asking a lot," Tenjin responded, his voice like a rumble of distant thunder, "But I'm with you."
'Although this will be a premature show of my summon,' Renjiro thought, clenching his teeth, 'I don't think I can fight this guy without Tenjin. I just need to limit how many cards Tenjin himself shows so that they underestimate his power.'
Originally, Tenjin's appearance was meant to be brief, a transportation tool—swift, powerful, and mysterious. But with the situation escalating to such extremes, the plan had to shift. What stung the most was the fact that the exposure would not happen to his village shinobi but to Kumo and Kirigakure shinobi. Revealing secrets to potential enemies, even allies of convenience, was not something Renjiro relished.
Then, suddenly, he sensed it—familiar chakra. 'Huh? Why isn't he doing anything?' he thought, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the battlefield below.
His gaze fell upon a cloaked figure but a chakra spike begged his attention and Renjiro's eyes involuntarily fell on Renmaru, who was currently bearing down on the squad of Kiri shinobi, clearly preparing to obliterate them with yet another tempestuous assault.
"We have to move, now!" Renjiro commanded, "He's going after the Kiri squad!"
With a sharp turn of Tenjin's massive wings, the two descended rapidly, cutting through the haze like a streak of silver lightning. As they descended, Renjiro focused his chakra and four shimmerings, silver chains erupted from his torso—adamantine, chakra-forged extensions of his will that spun around Tenjin and himself with deadly grace.
"Thud!"
"Crack!"
The sound of the chains locking into formation was nearly drowned out by the storm. A sudden shimmer spread across the space around them as the barrier formed, invisible yet tangible, like a ripple in the very air. It encompassed not only Renjiro and Tenjin but also the battered Kiri shinobi below, encasing them in a dome of muted sound and unwavering defence.
From the point of view of one of the Kiri shinobi—a young chūnin with a bloodied cheek and a trembling sword—the attack came like divine wrath. Renmaru's technique slammed into the barrier with a soundless explosion of light, the water and lightning erupting outward in dazzling bursts. Yet, the barrier held. He watched in awe as the attack rippled against the invisible dome, flickering but failing to breach it.
"What... What is this jutsu...?" the Kiri shinobi whispered, eyes wide.
Then Renjiro's voice boomed across the field, amplified by chakra. "Get out of here! I'll handle this bastard!"
Ayame's face face weary but her eyes sharp, nodded at once. "You heard him! We retreat! Move!"
As the Kiri shinobi began their tactical withdrawal, their formation broke like waves retreating from a rocky shore—some dragging wounded comrades, others glancing nervously toward the sky.
The mist that had blanketed the battlefield now began to swirl, sucked upward into the thickening clouds above like breath drawn in by something ancient and monstrous. Thunder crackled distantly, but its sound was swallowed by the invisible dome of silence. High above, Renmaru hovered like an elemental spirit incarnate.
"How long do you think you can defend?"
Renjiro squinted, the crimson glow of his Sharingan casting eerie reflections in his eyes as he read Renmaru's lips. The silence inside the barrier was complete—no whistling wind, no rumble of thunder, not even the flap of Tenjin's wings beneath him.
"Damn," Renjiro muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in. "I forgot the barrier blocks sound…"
Still, he wasn't about to let an opportunity for psychological warfare pass him by. He briefly cancelled the barrier as chakra flared in his chest and surged into his vocal cords. He cupped his hands to his mouth like a bratty academy student and bellowed toward the clouds:
"I CAN'T HEAR YOUUU!"
The shout tore through the air like a thrown kunai, raw and mocking. It punched through the surrounding storm, as Renjiro quickly erected the barrier. Tenjin snorted in amusement, but Renjiro didn't laugh—he was watching.
The Sharingan caught it.
A twitch in Renmaru's eye. A flicker of displeasure. Barely perceptible—but there.
'There it is,' Renjiro thought.
In a true shinobi battle, mockery wasn't just for fun. It was a blade of its own—a psychological wedge that, if pressed just right, could make an enemy blink at the wrong moment. And against someone like Renmaru, even the slightest hesitation could mean everything.
Then, without a word, Renmaru's hands rose. Fingers blurred. Hands wove a rapid, arcane sequence of seals. His chakra flared—not wildly, but with terrifying precision.
He finished the sequence and slammed his palms together.
The rain stopped.
But it didn't fade. It froze.
Literally.
Midair, each raindrop halted, suspended as though caught in the threads of an unseen spider's web. They hovered, unmoving, their surfaces trembling. Some had begun to evaporate, steam rising from their cores as they absorbed residual chakra from the environment.
Renjiro's eyes narrowed as a cold chill slid down his spine.
"That's not natural…"
It was like time itself had been partially severed. Water from puddles rose aggressively from the earth, drawn upward as though gravity itself were in rebellion. The mist thickened and coalesced into floating orbs—each one slowly taking on mass, density, and then—
Glow.
The orbs pulsed softly, their centres boiling. From within, threads of lightning coiled like serpents, snaking through them with quiet menace. The Sharingan picked up the strands immediately—lattices of unstable chakra, each vibrating at a dangerously high frequency.
Renjiro thought grimly. 'They're volatile—superheated from within. Steam compressed and mixed with lightning. Pressure bombs.'
Then, the orbs began to spin.
It was slow at first—like dancers testing their footing. Then faster. And faster. Until they blurred, each one now a shimmering sphere of death rotating with deadly speed.
They launched.
The first orb tore through the air with a soundless shriek, a visible spiral of steam trailing behind it like a contrail of fire. Tenjin banked sharply to the left, wings folding for half a second as the projectile streaked past them and—
"Boom!"
It exploded behind them with a concussive blast that shattered the silence even through the barrier's muffling effect. A wall of heat and pressure crashed into them, the force nearly buckling the barrier itself.
Renjiro grunted, shielding his eyes as the blast rolled over them. His chakra held firm—but just barely. Tenjin hissed, muscles straining as he righted their flight path.
"What the hell was that?" Renjiro shouted, spitting soot. "A steam bomb?"
Tenjin's jaw was tight, his wings flapping with brutal force to stay airborne. "Worse. The heat and pressure from the lightning were enhanced by wind chakra. It's a layered technique—boil, contain, rupture. We're flying through a pressure minefield."
Another orb came—this one angled differently, wobbling slightly as if correcting mid-flight.
Renjiro saw it—barely.
"Dive!"
Tenjin dropped like a stone. The orb zipped overhead and detonated far above. The explosion wasn't just forced—it sent out a burst of fine, glowing mist.
The mist that burned.
Tiny droplets seared Renjiro's barrier, he could feel it.
"We can't keep this up," Tenjin growled. "One direct hit, and—"
"We won't get hit. Get me close. Trust the barrier. It will guide you."
Indeed, the chakra shell around them pulsed again—more forcefully this time. A directional tug. Leftward, then upward. It wasn't random.
Renjiro was controlling it.
But then—
It gave a bizarre instruction.
A full 360-degree spin.
"Seriously?" Tenjin muttered. "Mid-flight?"
Renjiro's voice was firm. "Do it."
With a frustrated snarl, Tenjin twisted midair, wings curving to execute the spin. The world blurred, steam and glowing orbs warping into streaks of light. Renjiro's Sharingan spun as well—analyzing motion, speed, and rhythm.
And then—
Clarity.
The spheres launched on set timers. Every fourth beat, there was a half-second pause. A reset. A gap.
"There! GO!"
Tenjin roared forward. They weaved through the barrage, slivers of space between each bomb their only salvation. Orbs exploded behind them like divine wrath, the air crackling with steam and fury.
Then—impact.
Renjiro leapt.
He soared through the air like a thunderbolt, spinning mid-flight to land in a crouch of chakra-hardened force.
"Thump!" Dust exploded outward as he struck the soaked earth.
Three shadow clones burst into existence beside him with a flash of chakra, They then split intending to surround Renmaru.
The Kumo shinobi descended slightly. He didn't seem alarmed. If anything, he looked… pleased.
"I finally got you down," Renmaru said, his voice almost gentle—like a teacher proud that his student had solved the first riddle.
Then the ground beneath Renjiro's feet began to hum.
Black seals—intricate, ancient, and brimming with malevolent chakra—flared to life. They raced up Renjiro's legs like snakes of fire, coiling and binding.
"What—?"
The clones froze mid-movement, eyes wide with realization.
Snap.
A barrier—semi-transparent, orange-gold—erupted around them. It wasn't a simple wall. It was a compression field, closing tight around Renjiro and his clones like a shrinking lung. It pulsed with focused chakra, tuned precisely to paralyze.
Only Renjiro's head and forearms remained mobile. His eyes darted around, taking in the sigils etched into the interior.
The chakra signatures were Renmaru's. But they were also… older. Like something borrowed from ancient scrolls of forgotten jutsu.
Renmaru hovered just outside the prison, his eyes calm, patient, and utterly in control.
"Welcome to the eye of the storm," he said, voice soft, but heavy with finality.
=====
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