"Welcome to the eye of the storm," Renmaru said with a cold, confident sneer.
Renjiro blinked, his Sharingan swirling violently as it scanned the unfamiliar terrain within the barrier. It was deafeningly silent now, an unnatural contrast to the chaos that had raged only moments ago. The swirling tempest that had dominated the sky and earth outside this strange dome was gone—cut off, like a thread snapped mid-spin. Here, there was only stillness, silence, and the faint thrumming pulse of chakra-laced pressure weighing down on his body like invisible chains.
Renjiro's face twitched in faint distaste. 'What kind of cringe villain dialogue is that?' he thought dryly. 'But never mind that—what the hell kind of trap have I walked into?' He could already feel the biting pressure against his limbs, stiff and unrelenting. This wasn't just paralysis—it was something far more refined, more controlled, more surgical.
He hadn't expected this.
The plan had been simple: close the distance, drag Renmaru into close combat, and shift the momentum of the battle. From what he'd seen so far, Renmaru's Kekkei Tota was devastating at long-range—storms, pressurized steam, and lightning-charged water bombs. But if Renjiro could get close, his adamantine chains, Sharingan, and physical prowess would give him the edge.
'That was the plan,' at least.
But now, standing—or rather, trapped—in the eye of the storm, Renjiro realized just how well-prepared the Kumo shinobi really was.
He strained his arms, legs, and back. Nothing. His muscles didn't even twitch in response. Gritting his teeth, he surged his chakra in a burst—nothing. No movement. The barrier didn't react to force. It was as if it neutralized the intention of motion itself.
"Impressed?" Renmaru asked, watching the Konoha jonin with the air of a puppeteer who had successfully tied off the last of his strings. "You didn't think the Kiri shinobi were staying back just because of the storm, did you?"
Renjiro huffed through his nose. "No," he said with a flat tone, "I just assumed they didn't like you."
The smirk that spread across Renmaru's face was sharp as a kunai. "Childish," he said with a disappointed shake of his head. "I knew you were powerful for your age—but it seems you're still just a brat."
"Ooh I'll die happy if I never have to listen to another word from you," came the dry voice of one of Renjiro's clones standing behind Renmaru.
Renmaru turned slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder. And that half-second of distraction was all the real Renjiro needed to focus on the seal beneath him.
The floor inside the dome wasn't just normal ground—it was etched with layers of glowing orange fūinjutsu, intricate spirals and symbols that shifted like living ink. He scanned the patterns with his Sharingan, desperately trying to interpret the characters, but they were unfamiliar. Not standard Uzumaki formulas. They had a... foreign cadence. Older. Cruder. Almost experimental.
'Where's that snake when you need him?' Renjiro thought, inwardly sighing. He could feel Orochimaru's chakra nearby—observing, no doubt. That weirdo had slithered himself just outside the storm, watching everything unfold like it was theatre. 'He better have a good reason for standing there doing nothing while I'm getting roasted in here.'
"Strange," Renmaru said aloud, voice tilting mockingly. "I expected more from someone with Uzumaki blood. Can't break free?"
Renjiro narrowed his eyes. That taunt lit up something in his brain. 'Uzumaki... Seals... It's not paralysis or chakra suppression—it's juinjutsu.'
He let out a soft grunt of realization. "Juinjutsu," he muttered aloud, eyes flicking down again. "You're using a form of branded curse seal chakra suppression. That's why I can't move."
Renmaru chuckled. "Didn't know it was too advanced for you."
"You're buying time," Renjiro said suddenly, voice cutting clean through the stagnant air. His tone wasn't confrontational—it was calm, almost conversational. But behind it was something sharper. Cold. Measured. Like a scalpel poised above a vein.
The words hung there, suspended in the strange silence of the dome. Renmaru's smirk wavered—just slightly, barely perceptible. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed, reflexively. That one sentence had struck deeper than any jutsu.
"What are you talking about?" Renmaru said, but his voice had lost a fraction of its earlier arrogance. The false aloofness was cracking, like paint drying too fast under heat.
"Oh," Renjiro continued, slow and deliberate, "you sensed him, didn't you?"
Renmaru stilled.
"That's why you're not going for the kill." The Konoha jonin tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with insight and venom. "You were confident until just now. Spouting your little theatrics, controlling the field, flexing your suppression seals like some second-rate fuinjutsu master. But then... you hesitated."
He took a small breath, and smiled—just a sliver of teeth.
"You should probably run along and rescue your comrades before he decides you're not worth the chakra."
Renmaru said nothing. But his silence was deafening. Telling.
"You're bluffing," he muttered finally. But the words lacked conviction. They felt thin in the air—like smoke before a wind.
Renjiro leaned in ever so slightly, his eyes burning brighter with each word. "He's a Sannin," he said softly, "which means your title? Your mission? Your Kekkei Tota?" He clicked his tongue. "None of it matters."
The atmosphere shifted. The air inside the dome suddenly felt too tight, like the pressure before lightning strikes. Renmaru's expression darkened into something unreadable.
"You might've heard of him," Renjiro added with mock curiosity. "Pale skin. Yellow eyes. Tends to bite people. Obsessed with snakes. Ring any bells?"
Still no answer.
"That's okay. You'll meet him soon enough." Renjiro's smile was all fangs now.
"I don't believe you," Renmaru growled—but it came out too fast. Too defensive.
"You don't have to," Renjiro said coolly. "But you can ask the Kiri corpses outside this barrier. Oh wait—too late."
Renmaru's eyes flicked—only for an instant—toward the barrier's edge. Toward the storm beyond.
That was it. The moment Renjiro had been waiting for. That tiny crack in his enemy's composure. The opening.
He stepped forward, just once. Enough to claim the moment. To plant his flag in it.
"Let me guess," he said. "You were told to contain me. Not kill me. Not yet. Buy time for your troops to reposition, wait until reinforcements could move. Maybe Orochimaru scared your sensors. Maybe you're worried I'm just the bait. You thought you could break me quickly, but you didn't factor in one thing."
He held up a finger, slowly, dramatically. "I've fought monsters."
His Mangekyō spun faster now, chakra flaring faintly around his eyes like ripples from a black sun.
"Anyway," he said, shifting back into that icy smile, "it's been lovely chatting. Hopefully, I'll pry the secrets of your Kekkei Tota out of your corpse."
The tone snapped.
Renjiro's clones moved in perfect unison, their chests swelling as they drew breath—deep and measured.
"Fwoooosh!"
Flames erupted from their mouths—twin infernos of roaring orange and red, flooding the interior of the barrier with searing heat and dancing shadows. The tight space magnified the fire's impact. Air pressure shifted. Oxygen was stolen. The dome lit up from within like a dying sun, casting jagged silhouettes across Renmaru's tense frame.
The Kumo shinobi's eyes widened. He staggered back a step, forming a quick seal—Wind Release: Gale Wall!—and blew outward, creating a gust meant to shield himself. But the space was too small. The dome was too tight. The flames curled around the wind, pushed through it, clung to it like hungry beasts.
And then—
Renjiro inhaled again. Slower. Deeper. This wasn't a clone. This was him.
His Mangekyō Sharingan flared fully now, pupils blazing in the star pattern as a sickly green aura radiated from his chest. Chakra flooded his lungs, dense and volatile. His mouth opened—
"Fwoom!"
A torrent of emerald flames surged outward—not toward Renmaru, but downwards, crashing directly into the sealing array etched into the barrier floor. The moment the green fire made contact with the glowing sigils, they screamed—literally. The sound was metallic, high-pitched, like a chorus of burning wires snapping in protest.
The chakra seal cracked.
It buckled and warped beneath the onslaught, the orange glyphs bleeding into one another as the carefully inscribed flow broke apart. "Come on," he muttered under his breath. "You don't get to win. Not like this."
The seal split down the middle, fissures of light spiderwebbing outward—
—and then a part of the barrier exploded.
From Renjiro's body shot a single chain, black and burning, its links forged of adamantine and chakra-infused steel. It lashed outward like a serpent from the underworld, twisting midair before wrapping tightly—clank!—around Renmaru's torso.
The Kumo jonin barely had time to register what was happening before the flames on the chain ignited.
"Gah—!" Renmaru cried out as the green fire seared into his skin—not just his body, but his chakra pathways. The suppression field weakened in an instant. He tried to form a hand seal, but his limbs spasmed violently.
Renjiro's eyes met his.
Genjutsu.
The Mangekyō flared one final time—and Renmaru froze. His chakra flared, then stilled. His muscles locked in mid-motion like a marionette with its strings cut.
The clone behind him was already moving.
One sharp motion.
"Shhhhk!"
A kunai flew, spinning in a blur—right into Renmaru's exposed throat.
A wet choking noise gurgled from his mouth as he staggered, clutching at the chain wrapped around him. Blood sprayed in sharp bursts, splattering the inside of the weakening barrier. The orange glow dimmed, flickered, and then—
"Crack!"
The entire dome shattered like glass, dispersing in a gust of wind and raw chakra as the seal collapsed completely.
Renjiro stepped forward, his limbs now free, the chain retracting back into his torso as he deactivated his Mangekyō. The flames flickered out with a hiss. He stood, breathing heavily, watching the body of Renmaru slump to the ground in slow motion, blood seeping into the dirt around him.
The battlefield fell silent once more, though thunder still cracked far off in the distance—remnants of the dying storm.
Renjiro stared at the corpse for a long second, then sighed and muttered under his breath, "You didn't suppress my chakra… and I'm the stupid one?"
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