Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 1: A Father's Stand

The acrid smell of burning vines and poisonous mist filled the air, mingling with the distant screams that pierced through the storm. Eleven-year-old Ren crouched in an alcove of his family's compound, his trembling hands clutching a small glass vial as his mother whispered, "Stay quiet, no matter what." The voices outside grew louder. Ren looked into his mother's dark green eyes, searching for safety. Suzuna laid her arms around her son's frightened form and gently let her hand glide through his short, unkempt black hair with streaks of deep green to comfort him. She knew her husband was still among the fighting and waited for the signal to flee. Her gaze fell on the last occupant in the hidden alcove they occupied, her eldest son Arato. The Thirteen-year-old was holding his nerves well as he stared through the cracks of the wall into the night, but Suzuna could see the strained look on his face and twitchiness with each scream they heard.

Just an hour ago, Ren had been watching his brother practice kata while tending to the Dokuhana clan's gardens with his mother. The memory felt like a lifetime ago as he now clung tightly to her arm in the alcove. His father's words echoed in his mind: "We're under attack. Grab the kids and hide until we clear a path for you to flee." He remembered the hurried kiss his father gave his mother before disappearing into the chaos, the red-orange glow of fire piercing the forest darkness moments later.

His brother's sharp intake of breath pulled him back to the present. Ren followed Arato's gaze to the forest, where a shadowy figure crept closer to their hiding spot. The storm masked the stranger's footsteps, the rain pounding relentlessly on the rooftop. Ren's grip tightened on his mother's arm, and his brother's hand instinctively moved to his kunai pouch, his eyes narrowed with wary determination.

As the figure closed the distance, lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the man's face. Ren gasped. His father stood there, soaked and splattered with red streaks that ran down his face and shirt collar. His left arm hung awkwardly, swinging limply as he approached. "Follow me. Stay low. We're heading for the border to find help." As Ren exited the hideout, he flung himself into his father's body, saying with tears in his eyes "Dad! You're back—what's happening? I'm scared!"

Kaizen Dokuhana crouched down, and he pulled him into a brief, protective hug and whispered "You must be strong son. We must flee now before they notice us. I'll make sure nothing happens to you guys. Just remember our motto "Endure the venom; through resilience, we thrive.""

He gave Ren a quick kiss on the forehead then turned to Arato and said "If we get split, you bring them across the border and search for a Konoha nin. Give them this scroll and let them know what happened." Arato was still trembling a bit but stopped at his father's words. He took a brief glance at Ren, uncertainty and trepidation flickering in his eyes. Then he quickly shook himself and turned back with a determined look on his face. Suzuna gave her husband a worried look, holding her gaze for a moment on his limp left arm then staring into his eyes. They seemed to have a silent conversation from what Ren could tell. His mother wiped a tear from her eye, nodded then placed a steady hand on her child's shoulder.

Together, the four of them disappeared into the darkness. Behind them Ren could still hear the screams of faceless ghosts in the distance, carried in the storm like haunting whispers. The oppressive heat pressed against Ren's back as the smell of burning cinder and roots filled the air. Something else lingered beneath it—a sharp, sickly scent he couldn't place, but it twisted his stomach. The fire devoured his childhood home, its orange glow flickering like a final farewell before fading into the blackness of night.

These scenes would stay with Ren for years to come, etched into his memory. Long after the fire's embers cooled, the echoes of screams and the suffocating smell of ash would haunt his dreams.

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Ren struggled to stay quiet on their trip through the forests he grew up in. Without any lights, the storm blasting around the treetops and wet ground he stumbled on a few times. He could feel various smaller cuts from branches across his face and hands as they made their way through the branches of the ancient trees. His father made them stop twice in the last few minutes, listening intently and summoning a small spider companion to scout the area before pushing on. Suzuna seemed to be getting tired, as her breathing came in more rushed after their last sprint from the unknown forces lurking somewhere in the area. His mother wasn't trained for this, she was a weaver who loved nature and had a calm and peaceful demeanor most of the time. Now seeing her with branches in her disheveled hair, puffy red cheeks and an alarmed look in her eyes. Ren clenched his fist at being unable to do anything and gave a silent vow she would never have to experience anything like this again.

Suddenly Kaizen's shuriken shot through the stormy night, sparking against hidden steel. A pair of figures dropped from the canopy with practiced precision, landing lightly on the rain-slicked ground. Their dark-green masks gleamed dully in the lightning's glow, the slits for eyes and mouths giving them a ghostly, inhuman look.

Kaizen stepped forward, a kunai in his uninjured arm, slick with the pouring rain. In a low and commanding voice, he spoke back towards his family "Run! Now." Ren hesitated, his legs rooted to the ground as fear clutched his chest. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the clearing they were standing in. Arato held a kunai with white knuckles, his jaw clenched, eyes fierce. Ren was worried his brother would disregard his father's orders and try to fight.

The enemy moved first. One hunter dashed toward Kaizen, their katana arcing through the air like a silver streak. The other began weaving hand signs, their fingers a blur even in the storm. Kaizen sidestepped the blade with grace, spinning and slashing upward with his kunai. His movements were sharp but strained, his injured arm hanging uselessly at his side. The hunter stumbled back, their shoulder sliced open, but Kaizen barely had time to press the advantage. The second enemy completed their jutsu "Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu"—a swirling mass of fire erupted from their hands, barreling toward the family. In a quick dash Kaizen moves into its path, deflecting the attack best he can.

Despite the pain, Kaizen forced his injured arm to go through a rapid chain of signs calling out "Poison-Nature Style: Great poison vine barrier". He gritted his teeth against the pain. The earth shuddered, and enormous vines erupted around his family in a protective circle. Their shimmering pollen glowed faintly, resisting the storm's fury. The fireball collided with the vines, an explosion of heat and light forcing Ren to shield his eyes. The vines held, but the force of the blast sent a shockwave through the clearing, shaking the ancient oak trees around them. Ren was frozen in fear, overwhelmed by the sight of his father fighting and the clash of jutsu. He glanced at Arato and saw his brother's resolve wavering as the fight unfolded.

The vines, though scorched in places, held firm as Kaizen took a deep breath, his voice sharp and commanding. "Move back! Don't stop running until you're safe!"

The two masked ninja didn't wait. One charged through the dissipating smoke, their blade gleaming in the faint light of the storm. The other hung back, weaving hand seals with swift, practiced precision.

Kaizen raised his good hand, his fingers blurring into a series of seals "Poison-Nature Style: Venom Bloom Jutsu!". The ground trembled beneath the advancing hunter as clusters of vibrant, purple flowers erupted from the soil. Their petals unfurled, releasing a shimmering mist of toxic pollen into the air.

The charging hunter faltered, their movements sluggish as the venomous cloud enveloped them. They stumbled, coughing violently as they tried to retreat. Their partner barked a sharp command and slammed their hands into the ground.

"Earth Style: Earthen Wall Spear!"

The ground split open as jagged earthen spikes erupted from beneath Kaizen's flowers, impaling the venomous blossoms and cutting off their spread. The hunter dashed forward, their blade slicing through the lingering mist as they aimed for Kaizen.

Kaizen stepped back, his movements deliberate despite his injured arm. With a flick of his wrist, he created a poison-laced kunai, his chakra infusing it with a faint green glow. He hurled the blade at the advancing enemy, forcing them to parry. The brief distraction was all he needed.

With a quick hand sign he activated the tiny smoke bomb attached to the kunai with an almost invisible thread in the moonlight. A dark cloud of spores enveloped the area surrounding the hunter. His gasps were audible even through the storm as the toxic mist engulfed them. Their movements became unsteady, their weapon dropping slightly as the venom sapped their strength.

The second hunter, unaffected, took advantage of the chaos, completing another series of hand seals.

"Fire Style: Flame Serpent Jutsu!"

A writhing serpent of fire burst forth, coiling through the air as it aimed directly for the vines protecting Kaizen's family. Kaizen snarled, slamming his foot into the ground.

"Earth Style: Earth Wall!"

The ground rumbled as a massive earth slab erupted from the earth, intercepting the fiery serpent mid-flight. The flames splashed against the rock, sending embers scattering harmlessly into the storm.

Kaizen didn't let up. With a single bite to his thumb, he pushed the now bloodied hand onto the. Ground. The air around him seemed to shift. In a puff of smoke, a swarm of glimmering spiders emerged from the shadows.

"Spider Pact: Summoning Jutsu!"

The small arachnids scattered across the battlefield, weaving webs laced with venomous silk. Two larger spiders leapt toward the weakened hunter, their fangs glinting in the moonlight as they aimed for his exposed neck. After a short struggle, movement stopped from his lying body.

Kaizen turned his attention to the second ninja, who now stood alone, their chest heaving as they stared at the battlefield, weighing their options. Kaizen formed another set of hand seals, his movements slower due to his injury but no less precise.

"Poison-Nature Style: Toxic Vine Bind Jutsu!"

The ground beneath the remaining ninja erupted as thorny, glowing vines shot upward, their tips glistening with venom. The masked ninja darted back, narrowly avoiding the first wave of tendrils. But the second wave caught their ankle, yanking them to the ground. They gritted their teeth, forming a fast hand seal chain even as the vines tightened around them. "Earth Style: Rock Shatter Burst!"

The ground beneath themselves exploded outward, sending shards of rock in all directions. Kaizen raised an arm to shield his face as debris rained down, but the vines held their grip on the hunter's leg, preventing their escape.

Kaizen's breathing grew labored, his injured arm hanging uselessly by his side as he stood between his family and the attackers. Behind him, Ren could hear his mother urging Arato to move, her voice shaking but firm.

Kaizen glanced back, his gaze locking with Suzuna's for a moment. "Go," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. "Now!"

Suzuna grabbed Ren's hand and pulled him into motion, her steps unsteady but determined. Ren's last glimpse of the fight was his father, standing tall amid the swirling storm. He could hear the noise of more people approaching their position.

"Arato!" Suzuna's voice snapped him back to the present. His brother grabbed his arm, pulling him into a sprint. The last thing Ren saw before the forest swallowed them was the orange glow of fire reflected in his father's determined eyes.

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The storm raged on, the wind tearing through the canopy above as Ren stumbled after his brother and mother. The sound of pursuit was faint but relentless, a crashing of branches, the sound of metal and the occasional shouted command in the distance.

Suzuna's breath came in short gasps, her legs trembling beneath her with every step. "Arato… I can't—" she started, but her voice broke. Without hesitation, Arato turned and scooped her onto his back. His legs wavered for only a moment before he adjusted and jumped onto a branch, his arms locking tightly around her legs to keep her steady.

"Don't stop!" he barked at Ren from above, his voice strained but fierce.

Ren tried to respond, but his chest burned, and his legs felt like lead. Every breath tasted of ash and rain, every step heavier than the last. He tripped over an exposed root, barely catching himself before he fell face-first into the mud.

"I-I can't—" Ren choked out, tears mixing with the rain streaming down his face.

"You can!" Arato yelled without turning around. "Just a little farther, Ren! The border's close!"

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the forest. Ren looked back and caught a glimpse of movement—dark figures weaving between the trees, their speed and coordination terrifying.

Pushing his legs to move faster despite the sharp pain in his calves. His mother, from her perch on Arato's back, twisted to look behind them. Her face paled, and her grip on her eldest son's shoulder tightened.

"Arato, they're too close! Take your brother and —"

"No!" Arato cut her off, his voice sharp and unwavering. "Father said to get everyone to the border. We don't leave you!"

Ahead, the forest began to open, the ground sloping downward into a shallow valley. Ren could hear rushing water close by. An unmistakable sign they were nearing the border. It gave him a flicker of hope, just enough to push through his exhaustion. Behind them, the sound of pursuit grew louder. The pursuers weren't far now, their footsteps pounding through the underbrush like drumbeats of impending doom.

A raging river, fueled by the storm, stretched before them. Arato dashed across it in a fast process, shouting behind him "Come on! Final sprint!" With blood pumping in his mind, Ren tried to focus on keeping his legs steady for a final jump across the water. But just as he put his weight on his left leg to leap, it gave out underneath him, dropping him into the freezing water.

He clutched the glass vial his father had given him like a lifeline, as he could hear his mother's distressed screaming and his brother screaming his name. The icy water wrapped around him like a vice, its current pulling at his limbs with relentless force. Every breath felt like shards of glass stabbing his chest, but the fear of leaving his family behind drove him forward. Ren thoughts cleared for a moment as an unknown determination from within himself blossomed. "I will not have it end like this." With a sudden burst of energy, he pushed himself through the raging rapids, coming closer and closer to the other side. He saw his brother reaching out to him with a large branch he had picked up and Ren hoisted himself into it. "Ren! Hold on!" Suzuna reached out desperately, her hand brushing against his sleeve as Arato pulled him up.

His eyes opened again as he was staring up into the faces of his mother and brother, relief radiating from them. His ears were deafened by a constant hammering, which he figured out was his heartbeat a few moments later. His brother was saying something to them and pointing toward the other side of the river, but Ren couldn't move his head to see. He was struggling to stay awake. As a look of fear crept back onto his mother's face, he felt a cold stab in his heart, that he wasn't strong enough to protect her.

He was still wondering what he or his brother could do, when a group of blurs jumped over them. With his last bit of strength, he managed to tilt his head and look. The ground trembled slightly as the shinobi landed in front of them. The air grew charged with energy, the moonlight reflecting off their flak jackets like a signal of salvation. He saw a gigantic figure, maybe fifteen feet tall, with flaming red hair tossing two figures into the air, while a blonde shinobi held down another with a kunai and a tall black-haired man crouched down for a series of hand signs.

Ren's body felt like lead, his vision narrowing to a tunnel as the sounds of combat dulled into muffled echoes. Warmth spread across his chest as he let the darkness take him. His last thoughts coursing through his mind were "We really made it. We are safe."

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 2: New Beginnings, Old Wounds

Ren's first sensation was warmth—a stark contrast to the freezing river that had gripped him before. His limbs felt heavy, as though weighed down by invisible chains, and a dull, persistent ache radiated from his calves and chest. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was alive or still trapped in the icy grasp of the rushing water.

The scent of antiseptic filled his nose, sharp and sterile, followed by the faint rustle of fabric and soft murmurs. Slowly, the world came into focus. A ceiling of pale white greeted him, lined with cracks that formed abstract shapes, and the distant sound of rain against a window confirmed the storm had followed them even here.

Ren blinked, his eyes adjusting to the faint light filtering in through closed curtains. He tried to sit up but winced as pain flared through his torso. A firm but gentle hand pressed him back down.

"Take it easy, Ren," his mother's voice wavered, the words wrapped in relief but trembling with exhaustion. He turned his head slightly to see her seated by his side, her face unusually pale. Her hair was neatly brushed, though dark circles shadowed her eyes. "You're safe now. We made it."

The words felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. Safe. The word echoed in his mind, but the memories of the forest—his father's desperate fight, the rushing river, the masked figures—surged back, flooding him with a mixture of relief and guilt.

"Where's Dad?" Ren croaked, his voice raspy and weak.

Suzuna's expression faltered for the briefest moment, but she quickly forced a reassuring smile. "He's... he's fine. Rest for now."

Ren wanted to press her—desperately—but the weariness in her eyes and the ache in his own chest kept the words from forming. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, but it was quickly swallowed by a wave of exhaustion pulling him he drifted off, he noticed Arato sitting against the wall, arms crossed, and head bowed. His brother's shirt was torn in places, his knuckles bandaged, and his usual confident air had disappeared,being replaced by something heavier.

The warmth of the bed and the soft hum of distant voices pulled Ren back unconscious, but one thought lingered in his mind: What had happened after he passed out?

The next time Ren opened his eyes, the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of morning. Voices murmured outside the door, their urgency pulling him fully awake.

"He's too injured to come here right now," a man said, his voice low but firm. "The border skirmishes haven't let up, and we can't risk exposing his location until we're sure it's safe."

"Don't you think they deserve to know?" his mother's voice replied, trembling with barely contained emotion. "After everything... after what we lost..."

The man sighed heavily. "Suzuna, I understand, but the safety of the children comes first. We'll keep you informed, I promise."

Ren strained to hear more, but the door creaked open, cutting the conversation short. A tall man in a green flak jacket stepped in, his dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail and a leaf emblem shining on his headband. He remembered the man from the riverbed. His eyes, sharp but kind, met Ren's briefly before he turned his attention to Suzuna.

"He's awake," the man said simply, stepping aside to let her through.

"Ren," Suzuna breathed, rushing to his side and taking his hand in hers. Her grip was warm and steady, but he could feel the tension in her fingers.

"Mom," Ren said weakly, his throat still dry. "What's... going on? Where's Dad?"

Suzuna hesitated, her gaze flicking to the man in the doorway before settling back on Ren. She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Your father is... still out there, still fighting, sweetheart. He's making sure no one can follow us here. He's strong—you know that."

"When —When is he coming back? Is he safe?" Ren asked, his voice trembling.

"He is trying to be here as soon as possible. There is just some things left to take care of. Don't worry about him, he's tough like that." Her gaze going down to his bandages Ren nodded slowly, though the unease in her voice made his chest tighten.

He looked past her, spotting Arato now sitting by the window, staring out at the rain. His brother's face was set in a stony expression, but his hands fidgeted with the edges of his bandages. Arato turned, his eyes briefly lighting up before his usual stoic mask fell back into place. "You're finally awake, about time. Thought you'd sleep through the entire recovery." Ren managed a weak smile.

"Guess I just wanted to make sure you handled things while I was out."

A snort escaped Arato, but there was no mistaking the relief in his posture as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't push it. You've got a long way to go before you catch up to me."

The man in the doorway stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think it's time we fill him in—at least on what he can handle for now."

Suzuna looked reluctant but nodded. "Just... go easy on him."

The man crouched down, meeting Ren's eyes directly. "Ren, my name is Shikaku. I'm a shinobi from the Village of the Hidden Leaf, Konohagakure. My team found you at the border and brought you to safety. You're in a secure hospital now, but the situation is still dangerous. The people who attacked your clan may still be looking for survivors."

The weight of his words settled heavily on Ren's chest. "What about Dad?"

Shikuro exchanged a glance with Suzuna before answering carefully. "He stayed behind to cover your escape. As of now... we don't have more intel on his location. But your mother and brother are here, and you're safe. That's what matters right now."

Ren's fingers dug into the blanket, his knuckles white as he swallowed back the questions burning in his throat. To know why this had happened and what would come next. As he thought about what was just said, he was hit by a torrent of emotions, fear, anxiety, anger, before settling on frustration. Frustration that he wasn't strong enough to help his father, that he couldn't run out to find him, that he couldn't make his mother smile like she always did before that horrible night.

He deflated at these thoughts, as his new energy left him sapped once again and an empty void took its place as he stared back at Shikaku. "What happens now?" he asked, sounding a bit hollow to his own ears.

"Get some rest," Shikaku said, his tone calm but resolute. "What's ahead won't be easy, and you'll need every ounce of strength to face it."

As the door clicked shut behind him, Ren stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. Safe. The word felt hollow now. If his father wasn't here, if his clan had been attacked, how could anything be safe?

He would get stronger. He had to. Not just for himself, but for his family—and for his father, wherever he was.

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The following day, after a light breakfast and regaining some of their strength, Shikaku returned to escort the family. Arato didn't greet him too warmly, his demeanor still reserved as soon as the shinobi opened their door. He stood stiffly, his gaze darting around the corridor as if expecting an ambush. Suzuna kept close to Ren, her hands lightly resting on his shoulder as they followed Shikaku through the hospital's quiet halls.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Shikaku began in a tired voice, as they stepped outside into the village. The air smelled fresh after the storm, and the sun cast warm light over the bustling streets. "But you'll be safe here. The Hokage has ensured you'll have a place to stay and resources to rebuild your lives. It will be a bit troublesome to adjust at first, but if you need assistance just ask around for myself, Chōza or Inoichi"

Ren blinked at the sight of Konoha. The streets were alive with energy—vendors calling out to passersby, children laughing and darting between adults, and shinobi moving purposefully across rooftops. The village had an air of vitality and safety that felt foreign to him after the chaos of the past days.

Arato, however, frowned. "What do you mean by 'rebuild'? Are we just supposed to settle down here like nothing happened? We have a home that we'll go back to."

Shikaku's gaze softened as he stopped walking, turning to face Arato directly. "I understand how you feel. But this isn't about forgetting what happened—it's about surviving and honoring what your father is fighting for. You're alive, and that gives you the chance to grow stronger, to figure out what comes next. That's what your father wanted, isn't it? You can return to your compound when it is safe to do so, but for now i suggest letting us handle the situation"

Arato didn't reply, but his jaw tightened as he looked away.

Ren glanced up at his mother, whose face was etched with quiet worry as she stared at Arato. He wanted to reassure her, to say something that would make everything feel normal again, but he didn't know how. He just squeezed her hand a bit and forced a smile, which she returned tiredly.

As they continued walking, Shikaku pointed out various landmarks. "This is the academy where shinobi are trained," he said, gesturing to a large building with children practicing techniques in the courtyard. "If you're interested, both of you will have the opportunity to enroll. And over there—" he nodded toward a bustling market street "—is where you can find all kinds of supplies and meet other villagers."

"Why would we enroll?" Arato asked, his tone defensive. "We've already been trained by our father. We're not kids anymore."

"Maybe not," Shikaku replied evenly, holding back a quick jawn with his hand,"but every village has its own methods. You might be surprised by what you can learn here."

Ren, meanwhile, was intrigued by the idea of enrolling into the academy. So far, he has only trained for a few years with his brother, father and other clan members. The hidden Grass village didn't have classes until you turned 13 for final education before becoming a genin. His brother started 2 months ago and was excited to meet many of the other children.

"Maybe I could make some real friends there" Ren thought to himself as he let his gaze wander around the areas. He couldn't take his eyes off the Hokage Monument, the faces of past leaders carved into the mountain overlooking the village. The sight filled him with a mix of awe and excitement.

"You'll be staying in the residential district for now," Shikaku said as they approached a quieter part of the village. "The Hokage will want to speak with you soon, but take your time to rest and settle in. You've been through a lot."

The house they were led to was a modest, single-story building with weathered wood siding and a small garden overgrown with weeds. Inside, the walls were bare but freshly cleaned, and the faint smell of cedar lingered in the air. It wasn't home, but it felt like a chance to start again.

Suzuna bowed gently as she murmured her thanks to Shikaku, though her voice wavered put a hand behind his head, chuckling slightly and telling her not to worry about it. After Shikaku left, the family stood in silence for a moment. Arato broke it by dropping his bag onto the floor and muttering, "I'm going to look around."

"Arato—" Suzuna started, but he was already out the door.

Ren watched him leave, feeling a pang of guilt. "I'll... help unpack," he offered quietly.

Suzuna smiled faintly, brushing his hair back. "You've already done enough, sweetheart. Why not go with your brother and make sure he doesn't cause too much trouble."

As Ren turned, he glanced out at the unfamiliar village, a quiet determination began to grow within him. This place wasn't home, not yet—but maybe, just maybe, it could be a new beginning.

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Ren hurried to catch up with Arato, who was striding purposefully down the street, his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes darting between the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Wait up!" Ren called, jogging a few steps.

Arato glanced back but didn't slow. "You didn't have to come, you know. I'm just looking around."

"I know," Ren replied, falling into step beside him. "But Mom said to keep you out of trouble."

Arato snorted, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

As they rounded a corner, the lively chatter of children drew their attention. A group of kids, about Arato's age and younger, were gathered in an open courtyard near the academy. Some were sparring with wooden kunai, while others sat on the sidelines, cheering and offering advice.

"Looks like a training session," Ren said, slowing his pace.

"Looks like a waste of time," Arato replied, but his eyes lingered on the sparring pairs.

A blonde girl spotted them first, her ponytail bouncing as she waved energetically. She called out, "Hey! You two—haven't seen you before!"

Before Ren could answer, the girl was already walking toward them with confident strides. "I'm Ino by the way! And you are?"

Ren nodded. "I'm Ren, and this is my brother, Arato."

"Ren and Arato," Ino repeated, her bright eyes scanning them curiously before, she seemed to remember something and turned toRen with a friendly smile. "You are the guys me dad told me about. The once being chased across the border, right?"

Rens face dropped at the reminder and Arato seemed to tense at this. Ino noticed the sudden tension and held her hands out diplomatically. "Sorry, I didn't want to bring up bad memories. I didn't think it through", she said apologetically.

Ren gave a hint of a small smile as he replied, "It's okay, you didn't mean anything by it."

After a few more tense seconds, she seemed to find her groove again, as she spun on her heel a bit and said "A—Anyways, welcome to the village. We're all pretty used to seeing new faces. Are you going to train here?"

"We'll see," Arato said shortly, his tone dismissive.

Ino's smile faltered for only a second before she turned to Ren. "So, what do you think? Want to give it a shot?"

Ren hesitated, but before he could answer, another voice cut in. "You're crowding them, Ino." The nearby group of children that had been watching parted, revealing a boy with dark, piercing eyes, his hands in his pockets and an air of quiet authority. His steps were deliberate, and each movement seemed to carry the weight of expectation. Ren glanced at Arato, noticing the subtle tightening of his jaw and the way his shoulders squared almost instinctively.

"Who are you?" the new kid asked, his tone was calm but carrying an edge.

Arato's brow furrowed and barked back "Who's asking?"

The boy's lips twitched into a smirk. "I'm Sasuke Uchiha of course. If you're staying here, you'll be hearing that name a lot."

Ren frowned, exchanging a glance with Arato. The name wasn't familiar to him, but Sasuke's tone made it sound like it should have been.

"Is that supposed to impress us?" Arato laughed, crossing his arms, his tone sharp.

Ino shifted nervously, glancing between the two boys. Her earlier confidence wavered as she caught the determined look in Sasuke's eyes. She stepped between them, her voice softer this time. "Sasuke, maybe we don't need to do this right now? They're new, and they've probably been through a lot..."

Sasuke didn't even glance at her, his smirk widening as he locked eyes with Arato. "What's wrong, Ino? Afraid they can't handle it?"

Ino hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. "It's not that... It's just—" She looked at Ren, her expression concerned. "You don't have to do this. Sasuke's been top of our class for a reason. It wouldn't be fair."

Ren opened his mouth to respond, but Arato stepped forward, brushing past him. "Fair?" Arato scoffed. "You're acting like we're afraid of him. Trust me, we can handle ourselves."

Before Ino could protest further, another figure emerged from the group. Shino adjusted his sunglasses, his calm voice cutting through the rising tension. "You're attracting attention," he said evenly, glancing at Sasuke and then at the brothers. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

Sasuke finally turned his head toward Shino, his smirk fading into a cool expression. "If they're going to stay here, they'll need to learn who is their better. Are you even shinobi?"

Arato's jaw tightened. "We were trained by our father," he heatedly said.

Ren's stomach churned as whispers rippled through the crowd, each hushed word feeling like a weight pressing against his chest. The onlookers' eyes darted between him and his brother, their curiosity amplifying the tension. He shot a nervous glance at Ino, who looked even more uneasy now.

"Arato—" Ren began, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Arato was already stepping forward, his eyes locked on Sasuke. "If you want to see what we've got, fine. Let's go."

Ino's breath caught, and she quickly stepped closer to Ren, her voice a low whisper. "You should stop him. Sasuke's... really strong. No one in our class has beaten him yet. He doesn't hold back when he's challenged."

Ren glanced at her, torn between her warning and his brother's confidence. "Arato's strong too," he said, though his voice wavered.

Ino bit her lip, her gaze darting between the two boys. "Just... be careful. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Shino stepped back, folding his arms as the tension in the air grew thicker. "This should be... informative," he muttered, observing the scene with a low buzzing mixed in with his detached voice.

The crowd of kids grew larger, their excited murmurs filling the air. Ino stood close to Ren, her worry evident as Sasuke and Arato faced off. The air in the courtyard seemed to hum with anticipation. Ren's heart pounded in his chest, not from excitement but from a gnawing sense of dread. Whatever happened next, he knew it would set the tone for their place in this strange, new village

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 3: Toxic Struggles, Gentle Dreams

The crowd in the courtyard had thickened, a hum of anticipation rippling through the air as children and a few onlookers whispered among themselves. Ren stood near the edge of the loose circle, feeling the tension creeping up his spine.

Sasuke stood opposite Arato, his arms crossed and his face calm, almost bored. He tilted his head slightly. A flicker of amusement danced in his dark eyes as he sized up Arato, who was already sliding into a stance. Unlike Sasuke, Arato's face was set with determination. His fists were clenched tightly, his stance solid and deliberate, like a coiled spring waiting to snap.

"Any time you're ready," Sasuke said, his tone laced with quiet confidence but carrying a subtle edge that made Ren's stomach twist.

Arato didn't respond. He wasn't the type for banter. Instead, he took a single step forward, the gravel crunching under his foot. His silence spoke volumes: he was ready to fight.

Shino quietly walked between the two, raising a hand to signal the start. "Standard sparring rules, nothing dangerous, first one to give up loses and when I say stop, you stop. Got it?"

Both boys gave a curt nod, their eyes locked on each other.

"Begin."

Arato moved first, launching himself forward with a burst of speed. His fist cut through the air, aimed squarely at Sasuke's head. Sasuke sidestepped smoothly, the blow missing him by a hair. With a measured pivot, Sasuke retaliated, aiming a low kick at Arato's legs.

Arato jumped back just in time, his feet skidding slightly as he regained his stance. Without a moment's pause, he charged again, this time with a barrage of punches and kicks. Sasuke moved like water, weaving through the attacks with precision, deflecting a high kick with his forearm before ducking under a swift jab.

The crowd murmured in awe, captivated by the clash of raw strength and calculated technique.

Arato grit his teeth and leapt back, forming a quick hand seal. He took a deep breath, focusing chakra into his fists. A faint purple aura flickered around them—their clans own Poison Channel Jutsu!. With every strike he landed, even a glancing blow, Sasuke would begin to feel his strength sap away.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes, noticing the subtle shift in Arato's stance. He couldn't quite identify the technique, but he knew better than to underestimate it.

"Let's see how long you can keep dodging," Arato growled, rushing in again.

This time, his movements were more deliberate. A punch grazed Sasuke's side, and though it wasn't a solid hit, Sasuke immediately felt a faint tingling in his arm. Poison. He sprang backward, keeping his distance while pulling a kunai from his pouch.

Arato smirked. "What's wrong? Feeling it already?"

Sasuke didn't respond. Instead, he flung the kunai toward Arato. The young ninja ducked, but Sasuke was already moving, closing the gap with a quick burst of speed. A spinning kick forced Arato to block, the impact sending him stumbling backward.

Before Arato could regain his footing, Sasuke threw a shuriken, the small blade zipping toward him in a flash. Arato twisted his body to avoid it, but Sasuke had already used the distraction to close the distance. His fist struck Arato's ribs, eliciting a grunt of pain.

Arato retaliated immediately, spinning low with a sweeping kick that nearly caught Sasuke's legs. Sasuke leapt over it, flipping mid-air and landing with catlike grace.

The two boys faced each other, their breathing heavy. Sasuke felt the poison's effects creeping through his limbs—subtle but unmistakable. His strikes didn't feel as sharp, his movements not as crisp. He had to end this quickly.

He reached into his pouch and flung several shuriken at Arato. The older boy dodged most of them, but one grazed his shoulder. Sasuke used the moment to unspool a length of ninja wire, snapping it toward Arato like a whip.

The wire looped around Arato's ankle, and with a sharp tug, Sasuke yanked him off balance. Arato hit the ground hard, but he refused to stay down. He rolled back to his feet, his fists still glowing faintly with poisonous chakra.

"Nice trick," Arato muttered, shaking the dirt off. "But I'm not done yet."

He darted forward again, feinting a high punch before spinning into a low kick. Sasuke dodged, but the poison had slowed him enough for Arato's follow-up punch to graze his shoulder. The tingling in Sasuke's limbs intensified, his muscles beginning to feel sluggish.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. He needed to shift the momentum. With a sharp exhale, he threw another kunai, this time with ninja wire trailing behind it. Arato dodged the blade but missed the wire, which wrapped around his wrist.

Sasuke yanked hard, pulling Arato toward him. Instead of resisting, Arato used the momentum to propel himself forward, his glowing fist aimed at Sasuke's chest. Sasuke twisted his body just in time to avoid a direct hit, but Arato's knuckles grazed his ribs.

Both boys stumbled back, breathing heavily. Sasuke's movements were noticeably slower now, the poison taking its toll. Arato wasn't faring much better; his chakra reserves were dwindling, and the strain of using his technique was starting to show.

The crowd fell silent as the two fighters squared off once more. For a moment, neither moved, their gazes locked in mutual determination. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they charged at each other.

Their final clash was a blur of punches, kicks, and dodges, each boy pushing past their limits. Arato's poisoned strikes landed more frequently now, but Sasuke's relentless counters kept him from gaining the upper hand.

Finally, they struck simultaneously—Arato's fist colliding with Sasuke's shoulder as Sasuke's kick connected with Arato's ribs. The force of the blows sent both boys tumbling backward, landing in the dirt.

For a moment, neither moved. Then, slowly, they both pushed themselves to their feet, wobbling but refusing to fall.

Shino stepped forward, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "That's enough. The match is a draw."

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and murmurs, but neither Sasuke nor Arato reacted immediately. They stood where they were, sweat dripping from their brows, their breathing labored.

Sasuke's lips pressed into a thin line. His dark eyes locked onto Arato, narrowing with frustration. A draw? Against some unknown kid from the Grass Village? He was an Uchiha. He should've dominated.

"You got lucky," Sasuke muttered, his voice low but laced with irritation. He turned his back on Arato, his fists clenched tightly.

Arato, still catching his breath, glanced at Sasuke and smirked faintly. "Sure, let's call it luck," he said, the words tinged with a mix of defiance and exhaustion.

Sasuke ignored him, his focus shifting inward. The faint tingling of the poison in his limbs was a humiliating reminder of his inability to finish the fight. His chest tightened with irritation. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Ren rushed over to Arato, relief evident in his eyes as he reached out to steady his brother. "Arato, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Arato nodded weakly, brushing off Ren's hands. "I'm fine. Just... tired."

Ren then turned to Sasuke, stepping cautiously toward him. He could see the subtle tremor in Sasuke's arms and the faint greenish tint to his fingertips—signs of the poison still lingering in his system. "Hey, Sasuke. That poison's going to linger if you don't do something. I can help—"

Before Ren could finish, Sasuke shoved him back with a sharp movement, his glare icy. "I don't need your help!" he snapped. The crowd quieted slightly, a few curious eyes turning toward the interaction.

Ren stumbled but caught himself, his expression a mixture of surprise and hurt. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he saw the look in Sasuke's eyes—an intense mixture of anger and a malice he couldn't place.

Ino hesitated on the sidelines, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She wanted to approach Sasuke, to offer help or at least comfort him, but the sharpness in his voice had sent a jolt of fear through her. What if he lashed out at her too?

Still, her concern won out. She took a tentative step forward, biting her lip. "Sasuke, maybe we should—"

"I said I'm fine!" Sasuke barked, not even turning to face her. The harshness in his tone made her freeze, her hands falling limply to her sides.

Arato watched the scene unfold, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite his fatigue, he forced himself to straighten up, glaring at Sasuke. "You're really something, huh? Too proud to accept help, even when you need it."

Sasuke turned back to Arato, his eyes narrowing. "Don't think for a second this makes us equals. Next time, I'll crush you."

Arato didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked faintly, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. "You can try."

Ren stepped between them, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Enough, both of you. It's over."

The tension hung in the air for a moment longer before Sasuke turned away, his posture stiff as he walked off. Ino hesitated for a moment before following him at a safe distance, glancing back at Ren and Arato with a conflicted expression.

Ren turned to his brother, shaking his head. "You didn't have to push him like that."

Arato shrugged, his smirk fading as he let out a weary sigh. "I didn't push him. That's just who he is."

As the crowd began to disperse, Ren slipped an arm under Arato's to help him walk. Despite his brother's words, Ren couldn't help but glance in the direction Sasuke had gone, a mixture of worry and curiosity swirling in his chest. Something about the Uchiha's reaction didn't sit right with him.

For Arato, though, the fight was over. For now, that was enough.

.

.

The crowd's energy lingered even as the brothers were turning to leave the training ground. Some students mumbled their opinions—some thinking Sasuke should have won, others impressed that a newcomer like Arato had managed to keep up.

Ren reached out to steady Arato. "You okay?"

Arato let out a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah. Just… tired." He flexed his fingers, still feeling the lingering effects of the fight. He wasn't satisfied, but a draw against an Uchiha wasn't something he could take lightly.

Ren gave a small nod before glancing at the thinning crowd. "Come on, let's go. Mom's probably waiting for us."

Arato hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Sasuke's retreating form, then sighed. "Yeah. Let's go."

Just as they turned to leave, a blur of orange suddenly cut into their path.

"Whoooa! That was awesome!"

Ren barely had time to react before he was face-to-face with a grinning blond kid, his energy practically radiating off him. "You guys are new, right? Where'd you learn to fight like that? That was almost as cool as something I'd do!"

Arato narrowed his eyes, still catching his breath. "And you are?"

The boy puffed out his chest dramatically. "I'm Naruto Uzumaki! Future Hokage! Believe it!"

Ren blinked, caught off guard by the enthusiasm. "Right…"

Naruto ignored his reaction and pointed at Arato. "That was some crazy stuff you pulled back there! Sasuke never has a hard time with anyone! I mean, not as hard as he'd have against me, obviously," he added with a cheeky grin.

Arato smirked slightly, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Yeah? You a good fighter too?"

"The best!" Naruto boasted, then hesitated. "Well… maybe not yet, but I will be! I'll be stronger than anyone in this village!"

Ren shook his head, amused despite himself. "You're pretty confident."

Naruto grinned. "Of course! You gotta be if you're gonna be Hokage someday." He then suddenly clapped his hands together. "Oh! You guys should come with me—I was just about to hit up Ichiraku Ramen! Best ramen in the whole village!"

Arato exchanged a glance with Ren before shaking his head. "Another time, maybe. We gotta head back home—our mom's probably waiting for us by now."

Naruto's grin faltered, just for a second. It was so quick Ren almost missed it. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something raw, something hollow. His usual bravado cracked for just a heartbeat before he forced his smile back into place.

"Oh… right, yeah," Naruto said, rubbing the back of his head a little too roughly. "Gotta check in with the family and all." His voice was light, but it didn't quite match the look in his eyes.

Ren felt a strange twist in his chest. He had been overwhelmed by the change in their lives, but at least he had Arato and his mother. He had someone waiting for him. The way Naruto had said "family" made it sound like he was talking about something distant, something that wasn't really his.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Naruto bounced back, grinning wide. "Alright, fine! But you better not forget! We'll call it a 'welcome-to-the-village' meal."

Ren smiled back. "Sounds like a plan."

Naruto gave them a thumbs-up. "Okay! See ya around, then!" With that, he darted off, shouting something about training and ramen in the same breath.

Ren watched him go, the image of that brief flicker of loneliness still lingering in his mind. He hadn't known Naruto for more than a few minutes, but somehow, he felt like he understood him a little.

"He's… different," Ren murmured as they walked.

Arato snorted. "Yeah. But at least he's not boring."

The two brothers turned back toward the village streets, making their way home. The tension of the fight still lingered, but Naruto's energy—and that small, unspoken moment—left an impression on Ren that he couldn't quite shake.

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.

The sun was dipping lower on the horizon as Ren and Arato trudged back to their new home. The faint glow of lanterns lit their path, but it did little to soothe the dread pooling in their stomachs. As they reached the front door, they exchanged a quick, silent glance—a wordless prayer that their mother wouldn't notice the state they were in.

The sound of footsteps approached from the other side, and when the door swung open, Suzuna stood there, arms crossed, her piercing gaze cutting right through them. Her eyes darted from Arato's bruised face to their dirtied clothes and the faint traces of blood on Arato's cuffs.

Her voice was low but sharp, like the calm before a storm. "What did I tell you about staying out of trouble? We've barely been here a day, and you're already fighting?"

Arato, usually so full of bravado, looked down, his confidence evaporating under the weight of her fury. His eyes flicked to Ren in desperation, pleading for help.

Ren swallowed hard. "It wasn't a fight," he lied, his voice steady despite the sweat forming on his brow. "A cart came loose in the market. Arato tackled me out of the way. He got banged up a little, but it wasn't his fault."

Suzuna's sharp gaze turned to him, scrutinizing every word. The silence stretched unbearably, her expression unreadable. Ren felt his heart pounding in his chest as he held her gaze. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging as her anger gave way to exhaustion.

"Even if that's true, you need to be more careful," she said, her voice softer now. "This village saved us. They're helping us, even after everything that happened. I can't have you making trouble here."

Her words lingered heavily in the air as she guided them inside. "Go take a shower—both of you. And clean up properly this time."

Ren nodded quickly and darted toward the bathroom, leaving Arato to fend for himself under their mother's disapproving glare.

By the time Ren finished his shower, he heard the faint chime of the doorbell. Wrapping a towel around his neck, he peeked out of the bathroom and saw his mother speaking with someone at the door. She looked more as he remembered her back home, with a warm smile and radiating serenity as she exchanged a few words, then accepted a large, steaming pot from the visitor.

When she closed the door and turned back, Suzuna beamed at him. "That was Ino, the daughter of one of the men who helped us. Her mother made us a stew—she said it's a traditional Konoha recipe. Isn't that kind?"

Ren gave a small smile, nodding. "Yeah, that's nice of them."

"Go get your brother. We'll set the table."

.

.

Dinner was quiet at first, the clinking of bowls filling the air. The stew was rich and fragrant, and Ren found himself relaxing slightly as he ate.

It was Suzuna who finally broke the silence. "So, what do you boys think about starting at the Academy?"

Ren hesitated, glancing at Arato, who poked at his bowl with a frown.

"It'll be... different," Ren said carefully. "But it might be good. We could make friends, learn more about how things work here."

"Friends, huh?" Suzuna's eyes softened as she looked at him. "That's good, Ren. You could use people your own age to talk to."

Arato scoffed quietly, but Suzuna's sharp gaze silenced him.

"And you, Arato?" she pressed.

Arato sighed, his spoon stilling. "We don't need their training. Dad already started training us in our techniques. I don't see the point of playing pretend with a bunch of kids. We have some of our clan scrolls, we can just train with them"

"Arato..." Suzuna's tone carried a warning, but she softened it with a sigh. "I understand how you feel. But we're here now, and we need to make this work. Learning their ways could help us adapt... in case anything happens again."

The table fell silent, the unspoken memory of that terrible night hanging over them.

Ren finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "I want to get stronger. Strong enough to protect you and Arato... like Dad would've wanted."

Arato's hand clenched around his spoon, a hurt look crossing his features, but he didn't argue.

Suzuna smiled faintly, reaching out to place a hand on Ren's. "You already make me proud, both of you."

The moment was brief but warm, a flicker of light in the lingering shadows of their past.

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After dinner, the house grew quiet. Arato had disappeared into his room, muttering something about not wanting to talk anymore, while Suzuna busied herself cleaning the dishes. Ren sat alone by the small desk in the corner of his room, the dim glow of a lantern casting flickering shadows across the walls.

His hand moved to the small pouch tucked safely into his pocket, fingers brushing against its contents. Slowly, he pulled out the glass vial, holding it up to the light. The faintly green liquid inside shimmered, catching the lantern's glow and refracting it into tiny patterns that danced along the walls.

This vial was one of the few things he had managed to grab on that chaotic night. It was a sample of their clan's special poison—a concoction passed down for generations, designed not just to incapacitate enemies but to embody their clan's mastery of toxin manipulation.

Ren's grip tightened around the glass as memories surged forward. He remembered his father's strong hands demonstrating the craft to him, carefully measuring herbs, distilling extracts, and explaining every step n patient detail.

"Poison isn't just for harming, Ren," his father had said, his voice calm and steady. "The same knowledge can heal. For every poison we make, there's an antidote. For every injury we inflict, there's a way to mend it. This isn't just about strength—it's about balance. Remember that."

Ren stared at the liquid, the words echoing in his mind. His father's belief in balance had always stuck with him, even when the world around them had become anything but balanced.

He uncorked the vial just slightly, enough to let the faintest whiff of its acrid aroma escape. It was potent, as it should be. The first step would be learning to replicate it, then to create its antidote. His father had said it would take years to master, but Ren was determined.

The compound wasn't just a weapon; it was a symbol of his family's legacy, a link to the life they'd left behind. And now, it could be a tool for something more.

He thought about the fight earlier that day, about how Sasuke had struggled against Arato's toxic strikes. Would learning to cure people one day help him prevent such pain?

Ren closed the vial and set it gently on the desk, a flicker of resolve sparking in his chest. His father's lessons were about more than fighting. One day, he would master these arts—not just to protect but to heal, to carry forward the ideals his father had tried to instill in him.

For now, though, he had to rest. Tomorrow would be the start of a new chapter in their lives, and Ren couldn't shake the feeling that the path ahead was going to be anything but simple.

With one last glance at the vial, he blew out the lantern and climbed into bed, the weight of his family's legacy resting heavy but steady in his heart.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 4: Of Old Man, Vows and Time

The streets of Konoha had begun to settle into the amber hues of early evening when Ren, Arato, and their mother, Suzuna, stood before the imposing structure of the Hokage's Administration Building. The massive red structure loomed over them, its curved roof extending outward like a protective canopy, with an enormous claw-like design adorning its top.

Ren had seen many buildings back in Kusagakure, but nothing quite like this. The sheer weight of history pressed down on him as he took in the sight, a stark reminder that they were standing in a place shaped by legends.

He exhaled slowly, shaking off the unease crawling up his spine. They weren't here to sightsee.

A familiar voice broke him from his thoughts.

"Thanks for being on time."

Shikaku Nara approached them with his usual slouched posture, the dark circles under his eyes looking even deeper than before. The man's sharp gaze flickered across the group, lingering momentarily on Arato's bruised face. A sigh escaped him, though he said nothing.

"Come inside," he gestured, leading them toward the entrance. "I hope you've had some time to settle in and look around your neighborhood."

Suzuna offered a polite nod, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "It's been… an adjustment, but the village has been kind to us."

Ren and Arato exchanged a glance but said nothing. "Adjustment" was one way to put it.

They ascended the stairs in silence, the heavy doors of the administration building creaking open as they stepped inside. The interior was quieter than expected, with only the distant scratching of pens against paper and the occasional shuffle of documents breaking the stillness.

As they approached the Hokage's office, Shikaku rapped his knuckles twice against the wooden door.

A muffled, weary voice responded. "Come in."

The office was spacious but cluttered, with towering stacks of paperwork threatening to collapse at any moment. At the center of it all sat an old man in crimson robes, his wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his lined face. He cradled a long smoking pipe in his left hand, exhaling a slow stream of smoke that curled lazily toward the ceiling.

This was the Third Hokage.

Ren had heard the stories—whispers of "The Professor," a man who had mastered almost every jutsu and commanded legions of shinobi in battle. The face carved into the mountainside depicted a man of steel, sharp-eyed and unyielding.

But the man before him now was… different.

There was warmth in his gaze, a quiet patience in the way he regarded them. Yet, beneath it all, there was a weight—one that only came from bearing the burdens of an entire village.

"Welcome," Hiruzen said, his voice steady yet gentle. "And welcome to Konoha." He let out a tired chuckle, tapping the edge of his pipe against the desk. "I must apologize for not visiting you in the medical bay earlier, but—" he gestured to the mountains of paperwork, "—as you can see, the duties of leadership can be quite demanding."

"There's no need to apologize, Lord Hokage," Suzuna said, offering a deep bow. "We are grateful for all Konoha has done for us. Your shinobi saved us when we had nowhere else to go."

Hiruzen nodded, his eyes softening. Then, his gaze shifted toward the brothers.

"I hear you've already met some of your potential classmates." His expression turned amused as his eyes flicked toward Arato's face. "Quite the introduction, I imagine."

Ren swallowed thickly. "How do you know that?"

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "A Hokage must always be aware of the happenings in his village." His gaze sharpened just slightly. "And bruises speak louder than words."

Arato, who had remained silent until now, finally stepped forward. His movements were rigid, controlled—too controlled.

"Why did you call us here?" His voice was steady, but Ren could hear the tightness beneath it. "Do you have news of our father?"

The Hokage studied him for a moment before leaning back into his chair. "I will not mislead you," he began carefully. "There have been no sightings of your father so far. We've deployed additional tracking squads at the borders and reached out to neighboring nations for any information."

The room felt colder somehow.

"But we have identified your assailants."

Ren felt his breath hitch.

Hiruzen folded his hands in front of him, his voice measured. "The shinobi who attacked your clan were members of Kusagakure's special forces."

Silence.

A sharp, crushing silence.

Ren's stomach twisted. His ears started ringing, his thoughts scattering in a dozen directions.

"No…" Suzuna whispered, her hand tightening against her chest.

Arato's fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders trembled—not with fear, but with something far more volatile.

"We have served Kusagakure loyally for eight generations," Arato's voice was hoarse, almost disbelieving. "And they… they—" His breath hitched, his hands curling into claws.

A sickly violet hue flickered around his fingers.

Ren's stomach dropped. He knew that glow.

Suzuna moved before either of them could. She placed a firm hand on Arato's shoulder, squeezing just enough to ground him.

Slowly, the chakra receded.

The Hokage took in the display without reacting, simply continuing in a steady voice. "Your father suspected political maneuvering," he revealed. "His notes suggest that false rumors were being spread—claims that your clan was plotting assassinations against key political figures."

Arato's breathing was heavy, his jaw tight. "So, they used a lie to justify a massacre."

The Hokage's expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried weight. "It would not be the first time in history that such things have happened."

The words cut deeper than any blade could.

Ren felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling. His home—his people—had been erased over a fabricated story.

The office felt suffocating.

He glanced at his mother, her face unreadable. A quiet grief carefully contained.

Hiruzen leaned forward slightly, his expression resolute. "I understand your pain. And though I cannot undo what has been done, I offer you this: a place to stay until the truth can be unraveled. If you choose to remain in Konoha, you will be granted full residency and citizenship."

His voice, calm yet firm, carried the weight of history. "This village has endured three great wars. We have seen refugees, survivors, and those seeking new beginnings. You will not be alone in this."

Ren didn't know what he had expected to feel, but the words… they sparked something in him. A flicker of warmth, like cinder.

Hope for a better future.

"Now," the Hokage continued, picking up his pipe again. "While you decide, I would encourage you to consider enrolling in the Academy. The term has already begun, but with your talents, I imagine you would adapt quickly."

His eyes gleamed knowingly, as if he already saw their answer before they did.

As they turned to leave, the Hokage's voice called out once more.

"Suzuna, if you could stay a moment longer."

Ren exchanged a glance with Arato as Shikaku motioned for them to follow him.

Whatever was about to be discussed… it wasn't meant for their ears.

.

.

The house was quiet when Ren pushed open the door to Arato's room. The dim glow of lantern light flickered against the wooden walls, casting long shadows over the space. Their new home in Konoha still smelled unfamiliar, like fresh tatami mats and lacquered wood—too polished, too untouched.

Arato sat near the window, his arms resting on his knees as he stared out into the evening-lit village. His bruises from the fight earlier had darkened, but he hadn't bothered to treat them any further.

Ren hesitated in the doorway. He wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if anything he said would even matter. But the words came out anyway.

"…How are you feeling?"

Arato huffed softly but didn't turn around. "What kind of question is that?"

Ren shifted on his feet. "A serious one?"

A pause. The weight of unspoken thoughts thickened the air between them. Finally, Arato exhaled through his nose, shifting his gaze away from the window. "It doesn't feel right," he muttered. "All of this. The village, the academy, acting like we belong here. We don't need their teachings." His fingers curled slightly. "We have our own. That should be enough."

Ren looked down for a moment, rubbing his arm. "I mean… yeah. I get what you mean." His voice was quieter, less sure. "It feels… weird. Leaving home behind so fast. Thinking about the academy when—when everything's still fresh." He swallowed. "I feel guilty about it, too."

Arato finally glanced at him. Ren let out a breath and forced himself to meet his brother's eyes.

"But…" He straightened his shoulders a little. "If we just sit here and focus only on what we lost, what happens then? What do we do? Just… train by ourselves and hope for the best?"

Arato frowned, his fists clenching. "It worked before."

"Did it?" Ren asked. He still sounded unsure, but something in his tone had steadied. "Dad was strong, but even he was looking for answers. If we stay in one place, if we refuse to take what this village can offer, won't we just be making the same mistakes?"

Arato's jaw tightened. "We saw what Father could do, what our clan's techniques are capable of. No one in that academy can teach us anything close to that."

Ren inhaled slowly, letting the words settle. Then, for the first time, he took a step forward. "Maybe not. But if we shut ourselves off completely, we'll never know what we're missing." His voice grew stronger.

Arato didn't respond right away, but Ren could see it—the slight flicker in his brother's expression. The hesitation.

"We don't abandon what Dad taught us. We never will. But our clan didn't survive this long by being stubborn." Ren lifted his chin slightly, and when he spoke next, there was no hesitation left.

"Endure the venom; through resilience, we thrive."

Arato inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing.

Ren met his gaze, unwavering. "We don't abandon our legacy. But we don't let it keep us from growing, either. That's how we honor it."

Arato was quiet for a long time. His fingers twitched slightly, the only sign of the emotions wrestling beneath his skin.

Finally, he exhaled, slow and measured. "Fine," he muttered. His voice was rough, like he was forcing the word out. "But I'm not calling this place home. It's not. And it never will be."

Ren gave a small, understanding smile. "It doesn't have to be. But we'll make sure we don't lose who we are along the way."

Arato grunted but didn't argue.

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Ren stood up, stretching. He gave his brother a small nudge with his foot. "C'mon, don't stay up all night brooding. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Arato rolled his eyes but didn't protest.

As Ren turned to leave, he heard his brother's voice—quieter this time.

"…Don't expect me to make friends."

Ren chuckled. "No promises."

With that, he stepped out, leaving Arato alone with his thoughts. But something between them felt steadier now. A silent vow shared between brothers.

Neither would forget. Neither would abandon. They would endure.

And they would thrive.

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A week had passed since Ren and Arato had made their silent vow, and in that time, they had begun to settle into life in Konoha. Their new home still felt unfamiliar, but the streets no longer seemed as foreign. Suzuna had taken to tending a small garden behind the house, filling it with herbs both medicinal and poisonous—just like she had back home. Arato spent most of his free time training, testing himself against the village's terrain, stubbornly refining their clan's techniques on his own.

Ren, meanwhile, had been watching, learning. Each day, the village around him seemed less like a place they were forced into and more like a place where they could grow. He had started memorizing the layout of Konoha's streets, noting the various shops, training grounds, and even the hospital. A curiosity had begun to take root in him—about what he could learn here, beyond just combat.

And now, that journey was truly beginning.

The academy loomed before them, its courtyard alive with the chatter of students. Ren's fingers curled slightly at his sides as he took in the sight, his nerves warring with anticipation.

"You ready?" he asked, glancing at Arato.

His brother exhaled sharply. "Let's just get this over with."

It was about as much enthusiasm as Ren had expected.

A chūnin instructor was waiting for them at the entrance, a man with a distinct scar across his nose and warm brown eyes that carried both patience and authority. He gave them a welcoming smile.

"You must be the new students," he said. "I'm Iruka Umino, one of the instructors here at the academy. I'll be helping you get adjusted."

Ren nodded quickly, but his gaze flickered toward the building again. This was it.

Iruka gave them a tour of the grounds, facilities and library. In the meantime he gave them small anecdotes of his own time starting in the Academy and told them the rules they were to follow.

Iruka glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. "Alright, that should cover most everything for now. Ren, you'll be in Class 1-B. Arato, you'll be in Class 3-C."

Ren felt a slight pang of disappointment at being separated from his brother, but he pushed it aside. This was part of adapting.

"See you later," he said.

Arato gave a nonchalant wave before following another instructor down the hall.

Ren took a deep breath as he stood outside the door to his new classroom. He had trained all his life to be strong, to survive—but this was something different. He wanted more than just strength. He wanted to learn how to heal, how to understand the poisons his clan wielded so that they could be used for protection, not just destruction. And he wanted—more than anything—to build something here. To make real connections, real friendships.

For the first time in a long while, he let himself hope.

With that thought, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As Ren stepped into the classroom, the lively hum of conversation dipped into silence, all eyes shifting toward him. The room was filled with unfamiliar faces—students around his age, some glancing at him with open curiosity, others barely sparing him a glance before returning to their own conversations.

A few students carried themselves with the quiet confidence of clan upbringing—he recognized the buzzing sound of an older looking girl of the Aburame clan and the distinctive pale eyes of a Hyūga boy seated near the window. But beyond that, the rest of the class was a blur of new faces, none standing out just yet.

The instructor, a stern-faced chūnin with a simple flak jacket, clapped his hands to regain the class's attention. "Alright, settle down. We have a new student joining us today." He gestured toward Ren. "Introduce yourself."

Ren hesitated for only a moment before bowing slightly. "I'm Ren Dokuhana. My family recently moved here from Kusa. I look forward to learning with you all."

A few murmurs spread through the room, some intrigued, others indifferent. The instructor nodded and pointed to an open seat near the middle.

As Ren walked through the rows, he still felt a few lingering stares, but they didn't weigh on him as heavily as before. Sliding into his seat, he exhaled quietly, grounding himself.

This wasn't home.

The people here didn't know him, and he didn't know them. But that was fine.

He wasn't here to dwell on the past.

He was here to build something new.

.

.

The warm glow of a single lantern filled the small dining area of their home as Suzuna poured tea into three cups, the comforting aroma mixing with the lingering scent of dinner. Ren sat across from Arato, still in his academy uniform, while their mother calmly sipped her tea, watching them with an amused but attentive expression.

"So," she said, setting her cup down with a soft clink, "how have your first days at the Academy been?"

Arato groaned dramatically, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Exhausting. There's this guy with bushy eyebrows who just doesn't stop moving. It's like he's physically incapable of sitting still for more than a second. And then there's another one who won't shut up about fate, like it's already decided whether I'll ever be better than him." He scowled, shaking his head. "And don't even get me started on the girl in my class. She lets her dog run wild, and guess where it decided to relieve itself?" He jabbed a thumb toward his shin, face twisting in frustration. "Right on my leg. First day."

Suzuna pressed a hand to her mouth, clearly suppressing a laugh. "That does sound… eventful."

Ren, who had been stirring his tea absentmindedly, let out a small chuckle. "At least you're talking to people." He took a sip before continuing. "I've barely done more than small talk after the first day. Once everyone got their curiosity out of the way and stopped asking why we moved, I just… stayed quiet. It's so different from home. Our compound was always peaceful, and now it's like being thrown into a swarm of voices and movement. It's a lot to take in."

Suzuna's expression softened. "That's understandable. Change is never easy."

Arato scoffed. "You're overthinking it. You'll get used to it soon enough."

Ren hummed noncommittally, not entirely convinced.

.

.

One Year Later

The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the training grounds as Ren watched his brother stretch out his aching muscles, groaning with every movement. Arato sat on the porch, arms draped over his knees, a deep frown carved into his face.

"You look like you got trampled by a stampede," Ren commented, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Arato grumbled, rolling his shoulders. "Might as well have. I let myself get talked into a 'special training session' with Lee and his twin looking Mentor." He shuddered at the memory of doing handstand laps around the city with a boulder tied to him. "It was a mistake."

Ren smirked. "You brought this on yourself."

"Shut up."

Despite the complaints, Arato had clearly been growing through his fights. Over the past six months, he had sparred multiple times against his classmates. He'd drawn three times with Sasuke,though the last of those matches had landed him grounded for an entire week after their midnight duel was discovered. His most tenacious opponent had been his recent training partner Lee, who had defeated him twice but lost three times, over the year, starting to proclaim Arato his 'eternal rival' at some point, much to Arato's frustration. The only opponent who had truly humbled him was Neji, who never seemed to break a sweat—three consecutive losses had stung enough that Arato, in a rare moment of humility, accepted a brutal training session with his former opponent's mentor. Now, he was paying the price.

"By the way," Suzuna said as she entered the room, casually brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. "I heard you've been placed on a team now. How do you feel about your new teammates?"

Arato groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "It's… a mixed bag." He leaned back on his hands. "Our jōnin leader is Choza Akimichi. He was one of the ones who rescued us. He knows a lot about proper nutrition and strengthening training. He's actually alright."

Suzuna nodded approvingly. "That's good to hear."

"My teammates, though…" Arato groaned. "Hana is impossible," he muttered. "Always arguing with me over stupid things, and she won't stop messing with my hair. It's infuriating."

Suzuna smiled knowingly.

"And then there's the other guy," Arato quickly added. "He's just… boring. Too quiet. I keep forgetting he's even on the team."

"We should invite your team over for dinner sometime," Suzuna chuckled.

Arato practically bolted from his seat, a deep flush creeping up his neck. "We're done talking about this!"

Suzuna watched her eldest disappear into the house and turned to Ren with a small smile. "Well, that went well."

Ren grinned. "Better than expected, honestly."

.

.

Another half year later

While Arato carved out a strong presence at the academy, Ren's path had been more solitary. Over the past year and a half, he had dedicated himself to mastering their clan's techniques, undergoing the brutal training required to develop resistance to toxins. He had begun the process of injecting himself with controlled doses of poisons and illnesses, gradually building immunity as his body adapted. Some weeks, the effects left him bedridden, bouncing between sick leaves and struggling through classes in a haze. Other times, he sat in the back of the classroom, quiet and withdrawn, as his body recovered.

His classmates took notice. The whispers were never spoken to his face, but he heard them nonetheless.

"Weird disease."

"Stay away from him. Who knows if it's contagious?"

Ren endured it. Their clan had always persisted through adversity. It was tradition. Arato had undergone similar trials months before the massacre, and their mother supported him through every step. He knew it was necessary, but the loneliness still stung.

Yet, through the struggle, he grew. His understanding of poisons had advanced, and he had begun mixing his first successful antidotes. Training with Arato had helped them realize their differing strengths—his brother favored their clan's taijutsu style, enhancing his strikes with poison chakra techniques, while Ren found himself drawn to the ninjutsu aspect, summoning small flowers and vines infused with toxins.

Ren wasn't as physically dominant as Arato, who had also grown a solid five inches over the past year, his shoulders broadening with the rigorous training and hearty meals under Choza's guidance. He now stood taller than Hana, something he took great pride in, often teasing her about it—though she always found a way to ruffle his hair in retaliation. His build was starting to resemble their father's, sturdy and powerful, a fact that only made his presence more commanding in a fight.

Ren, on the other hand, had stayed on the shorter side, his frame still leaner compared to his brother's developing bulk. His mother reassured him with a gentle smile that he might just be a late bloomer. "Your father shot up like bamboo almost overnight," she reminisced. Still, Ren couldn't help but feel a little envious at times, especially when sparring with Arato became an even greater challenge. But he had his own strengths—his mastery of poisons was growing, and he was carving his own path, one step at a time.

.

.

Another half year later

Ren had settled into his final year at the Academy. Ever since his body had finally adjusted to the venom conditioning, his absences had become a thing of the past. Without the constant sickness dragging him down, he had quickly climbed to the top of his class in test scores and ninjutsu, showing particular talent in precise chakra control and medical applications. His shuriken and kunai throwing remained above average, but it was senbon where he truly excelled, refining his aim with a precision that had impressed even his instructors. Taijutsu, on the other hand, was merely average—functional but nothing remarkable compared to the more physical students.

His progress hadn't gone unnoticed. His mother and his instructor had recently discussed the possibility of him graduating early if he kept up this pace. The idea was both exciting and daunting. Becoming a genin sooner meant more responsibility, but it also meant he'd finally start contributing in a real way, protecting his family and proving their clan's strength.

Yet, no amount of personal progress could fill the void left by their father's absence. In the two years that had passed, there was still no sign of Kaizen. Kusagakure remained silent, refusing to cooperate with Konoha beyond their initial denial of wrongdoing. They insisted the massacre had been a necessary measure against rebels and assassins, brushing aside any further inquiries. It was a cold, dismissive response, but Ren, Arato, and Suzuna refused to let go of hope. If Kaizen was still alive somewhere, they would find him.

But for now, life moved on.

One evening, over dinner, Arato grinned as he leaned forward excitedly. "I'm entering the Chūnin Exams again this year."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you say last year that you'd wait until you were stronger?"

"I am stronger now," Arato shot back with a smirk. "And I'm not missing the chance to face Lee, Neji, and Sasuke again. We're overdue for some rematches." His eyes burned with determination, the same fire he'd had ever since their clan's fall.

Ren had to admit, he was curious to see how those battles would go. His brother had grown far stronger over the past year, but so had his rivals.

"And besides," Arato continued, crossing his arms, "Since Hana got promoted to chūnin last month, for leading the rest of the field mission, when our squad's leader was injured. I'm not letting her get too far ahead of me. I'd never hear the end of it"

Suzuna chuckled, setting down her tea. "You should invite your team over to celebrate before you leave for the exams."

Arato nearly choked on his food and quickly looked away, muttering something under his breath. Ren smirked but decided to spare him—for now.

Then, as if remembering something, Arato added, "Oh, right. Our team's getting a temporary third member for the exams."

"Who?" Ren asked.

"Sensei told us it's Kabuto Yakushi. Some older genin who's failed the exams a few times already."

Ren tilted his head. "That doesn't sound promising."

Arato shrugged. "Who knows? He's supposed to be skilled, just… not quite good enough to make chūnin yet. Hope he doesn't drag me down."

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 5: Tangled in Silk and Sand

Konoha's streets were as lively as ever, filled with the chatter of merchants and the rhythmic clatter of footsteps against stone pathways. Ren had always found the village's liveliness somewhat overwhelming compared to the quiet halls of his family's compound, but after nearly two years, he was starting to adjust.

He had set out that afternoon without much direction, simply enjoying the chance to stretch his legs and clear his mind after a long morning of training. The academy was demanding, but in many ways, the time he spent outside of class was just as valuable. Observing the village, watching shinobi go about their work—there was always something to learn.

It was as he rounded a corner, weaving past a group of children playing with wooden kunai, that he felt the unmistakable weight of someone moving toward him fast.

Ren barely had time to react before something—or rather, someone—barreled into him.

The impact sent him stumbling back, but he caught himself just before falling. The other person wasn't as lucky. He staggered back with an irritated grunt, yanking up the hood of his oddly designed robe, which had a pair of pointed, cat-like ears sewn into it.

"The hell was that?" the stranger snapped.

Ren quickly took in the sight before him—a teenager, older than him but not quite an adult, dressed in an outfit that could only be described as peculiar. Along with the strange hooded robe, his face was painted with thick black markings, giving him a theatrical, almost eerie appearance.

"You ran into me," Ren pointed out evenly, brushing off his sleeve.

The teen scowled. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

A sigh came from his side, and Ren's gaze flicked to a blonde girl standing with her arms crossed. She had a large iron fan strapped to her back and was watching the exchange with open disinterest.

"Kankurō, don't start a fight with some random civilian," she muttered, sounding exasperated, like this happened all the time. She leaned against a nearby wall, expecting this to take a while.

Kankurō ignored her, rolling his shoulders as he took a step closer. "Maybe this brat needs to learn a little respect."

Ren's muscles tensed slightly, instinct telling him to step back. But before he could respond, Kankurō's gaze landed on his exposed forearms.

More specifically, on the intricate web-like markings running across his skin.

His entire posture shifted. The irritation on his face flickered into something else—recognition, followed by intrigue.

"…Wait a second." Kankurō narrowed his eyes. "Those markings—"

Ren took an instinctive step back, but Kankurō's smirk only grew as he studied him.

"No way…" he muttered. "The Dokuhana clan?"

Ren's breath caught.

Kankurō tilted his head, his smirk widening. "But you guys are supposed to be dead after that failed coup."

A sharp, icy sensation ran down Ren's spine.

He didn't respond, but Kankurō didn't seem to care. His gaze darkened, curiosity turning into something more unsettling.

"Y'know, some people say your blood is poisonous," he mused excitedly, tapping his chin. "That your clan carried their own blend of venom in their veins. I wonder…" His fingers twitched slightly toward the bundle of cloth strapped to his back.

Ren remained frozen in place, his mind flashing back to the night of the massacre.

The smoke. The shouting. The corpses.

Kankurō was still talking, almost to himself. "I wonder if it's true—"

"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

A sudden voice cut through the tension.

Kankurō barely had time to turn before a blond whirlwind shoved itself between him and Ren, blue eyes burning with anger.

It took Ren a second to register Naruto standing in front of him, practically nose to nose with Kankurō.

"What's your problem, Catboy?!" Naruto demanded, jabbing a finger at Kankurō's chest. "Looking for a fight? You some kinda idiot?"

Kankurō scowled. "Who the hell are you? A—And what did you just call me?"

"The guy who's gonna knock that smug look off your face if you keep acting like a jackass," Naruto shot back without hesitation.

Ren blinked. He'd never seen Naruto this openly aggressive before, but something about Kankurō's behavior had him riled up immediately.

A small crowd was forming around them, drawn in by the commotion. Among them, Ren caught sight of Ino, looking between him and Naruto with concern.

Kankurō growled, his fingers twitching toward his cloth bundle, but before things could escalate further, another voice spoke up—one that sent a chill through the air.

"That's enough."

The tension in the street shifted instantly, the lingering buzz of chatter from the onlookers dying into silence.

Ren felt it before he saw him.

A suffocating, almost unnatural presence.

From the rooftops, a red-haired boy with a kanji symbol etched into his forehead stared down at them, his arms crossed, his pale green eyes unblinking and devoid of warmth. The oppressive weight of his killing intent pressed against Ren's skin like a thousand unseen needles.

Gaara.

His gaze didn't linger on Ren, though. He was looking straight at Naruto.

"You're the same as me. I can feel it." Gaara's voice was soft but carried an eerie weight. "You're the jinchūriki of this village, aren't you?"

Ren felt Naruto stiffen beside him.

"During the exams, I'll be watching you closely," Gaara continued. "I want to see which of us truly deserves to exist."

A thick silence followed his words. The air felt colder, heavier.

Then, without another word, Gaara turned and walked away.

Temari, looking somewhat tense now, shot Kankurō a glare before following.

Kankurō clicked his tongue, shooting Naruto one last look before slinking off behind them.

It wasn't until they were completely out of sight that the weight pressing down on Ren's chest finally eased.

"That guy was creepy as hell," Ino muttered, stepping closer. "Are you both okay?"

Ren took a shaky breath, nodding slowly. He felt drained.

Naruto, on the other hand, folded his arms behind his head, trying to appear casual, but there was a tightness in his jaw. "Yeah, yeah, we're fine. No big deal."

Ren, still shaken, turned to Naruto. "And what did he mean by… jinchūriki?"

Ino blinked, clearly confused as well. "Yeah, what's that?"

Naruto's usual grin slipped for a brief moment before he forced it back into place. "Ah, it's nothing. Just him being creepy, ya know? Anyway, forget about that—who's up for some ramen? My treat! Well, uh… if we can convince old man Teuchi to give us a discount."

The awkward shift in topic didn't go unnoticed by Ren, but he let it go for now. Ino huffed, clearly skeptical but not pushing further.

"Fine, but you better not be lying about paying," she said, crossing her arms.

Ren gave one last glance in the direction Gaara had gone before nodding. "Yeah… ramen sounds good."

With that, the three of them headed toward Ichiraku, but the encounter with the Sand siblings lingered heavily in Ren's mind.

.

.

The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the small workspace Ren had set up in his room. A faint, herbal scent hung in the air, the result of various crushed leaves and extracts simmering in a heated dish beside him. On the desk, a shallow bowl held a thick, dark liquid—one of his latest experiments.

Ren leaned in, carefully using a thin glass rod to stir the mixture. The consistency was nearly right, but the color was still off. He took a small strip of treated paper and dipped it into the liquid, watching the way it absorbed.

Not quite perfect yet, but close.

His gaze flicked to the glass vial resting on the far side of the desk, its contents glowing faintly under the candlelight. The last of their clan's preserved venom, carefully sealed before the massacre. His father had given it to him to keep safe and as a reminder—not just of their past, but of the future he was meant to carve out.

One day, he'd master the art of their poisons completely. He'd carry their legacy forward.

A soft knock on the door broke his focus.

"Ren? Can I come in?"

His mother's voice.

"Yeah," he called, quickly capping the small container in front of him before she pushed the door open.

She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on him. Her hands were dusted with fine thread fibers, a sign she'd been working late again. Since settling in Konoha, she had taken up weaving and fabric making, selling her work to smaller shops in the area. It wasn't easy, but it gave them stability—and purpose.

"I thought I'd find you in here," she said with a small smile, moving closer. "Still working on your latest concoction?"

Ren nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Trying to refine it. It's not quite stable yet."

She glanced at the different herbs and liquids spread across his desk. "You're improving fast," she murmured, picking up a small glass vial and tilting it slightly to watch the liquid inside shift. "Your brother, could never sit still long enough to get into the minute details of the craft."

Ren wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just gave a small shrug.

Suzuna set the vial down and sighed, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "I've been thinking… It's been two years now."

He knew what she meant. Two years since they lost everything. Since they came here.

"It has," he agreed quietly.

She gave him a soft look. "How do you feel about Konoha now?"

Ren thought about it for a moment. It wasn't home, not in the way their old village had been. But it wasn't unfamiliar anymore either. He had a routine. He had teachers that challenged him, classmates he was slowly starting to talk to more. It wasn't easy, but he was adapting.

"It's… not as bad as I thought it'd be," he admitted. "I'm still getting used to things, but I think I like it here."

His mother smiled, though there was something wistful in her expression. "I'm proud of you. Both of you. You've grown so much since we arrived."

She hesitated, then sighed. "I just wish your father was here to see it."

Ren lowered his gaze. He didn't have any words of comfort for that. Nothing would change the fact that their father was still missing, that Kusagakure refused to give them any answers.

His mother shook her head, brushing the thought away. "And now Arato is out there in that dark forest, fighting in the Chūnin Exams…"

Ren could hear the worry in her voice. It was subtle, but it was there.

"He'll be fine," he reassured her. "From what I've heard, nothing really serious happens at the exams. Just a few bruises, maybe a broken bone if you're unlucky."

Suzuna's left eyebrow went up and she gave him a pointed look. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ren gave her a small, sheepish smile. "It means he's prepared."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I suppose I should just trust him. He's strong, just like his father."

Ren nodded, then glanced down at his hands. "…I'm looking forward to getting on a team too," he admitted. "I think… it'd be nice to have something like that. Arato doesn't talk about them as much recently, but they are close."

His mother's expression softened. "You will too," she said. "You're already doing so well. When the time comes, you'll find the right people."

Ren hoped she was right.

For now, though, he still had a lot to learn. And the exams weren't over yet.

.

.

The front door creaked open, and heavy footsteps echoed in the entryway.

"I'm back," Arato called, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Ren looked up from his notes, setting down a senbon he had been testing for balance. Their mother, Suzuna, immediately hurried from the other room, her hands still dusted with the fine fibers from her work.

"You're finally home," she sighed, her expression caught between relief and exasperation. "You're covered in dirt. Go wash up before you sit anywhere."

Arato rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly as he moved. His uniform was scuffed, his arms bore a few bandaged scrapes, and his usual cocky grin was dimmed by fatigue—but it was still there.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, stepping further inside. "You wouldn't believe the week I just had."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "So? You make it through in one piece?"

Arato snorted, kicking off his sandals. "More or less. Our team got split up early on—some random team tried to ambush us. Katsu—our new third—vanished into the trees before I even saw where he went. I swear, that guy just melts into the background like he's not even there. Kinda eerie." He rolled his shoulders. "I had to hold my own for a bit, but turns out he was circling around to pick them off while they were focused on me. Kabuto handled the rest and—just like that—we had our scroll." He shook his head. "And then, of course, he dropped out right after the prelims started. Said he was running low on chakra. He hadn't really used that much from what I could tell. I think he was just scared of the competition. That's why he's still a genin—no drive."

Ren frowned. "Just like that?"

Suzuna hummed thoughtfully but didn't comment. Instead, she gestured for him to sit down. "So, how did your fight go?"

Arato dropped into the chair across from Ren, resting his arms on the table. "Shino Aburame," he said. "That guy was tough."

Ren leaned forward slightly, interested now.

"He's methodical," Arato continued, his brow furrowing. "The moment our fight started, his insects were already spreading through the air, barely visible. I had to keep moving, but the moment I attacked, he'd already planned a counter. If I got too close, he'd use his bugs to drain my chakra. If I stayed back, they'd still come for me, just slower."

Ren nodded. He'd seen the Aburame fight before; they weren't opponents to take lightly. "How'd you win?"

Arato smirked slightly, his fingertip glowing a sickly purple. "Our clan's poisonous chakra," he said. "His kikaichu were trying to drain it from me, but they aren't immune to it. The longer the fight went on, the more sluggish they became. He started to notice, but by then, I'd closed the distance and forced him into a real taijutsu exchange. It was close, but I managed to land a solid hit and knock him out before he could adapt."

Ren huffed in amusement. "So you just punched your way through a strategy expert?"

Arato grinned. "Hey, whatever works."

As Arato finished recounting his own fight, he leaned back with a huff, arms crossed. His expression was still tense, his brows slightly furrowed in thought.

"But man," he muttered, shaking his head, "I thought I had a good idea of what Lee was capable of after our spars… but I was way off."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "What happend with him?"

Arato nodded. "He had a fight against Gaara in the preliminaries." Ren went ridged at that, remembering the overwhelming bloodlust the redhead emitted last time. "It was on a different level to anything else I saw that day. I knew Lee was fast, but I didn't know he was that fast. He dropped some super heavy weights at some point and started moving like a damn blur, I could barely follow him. I remember someone saying something of gates, but no idea what that means," His jaw clenched. "I fought him five times, Ren. Five times, and he never went that hard against me. I don't know if he was holding back or if I just wasn't worth going all out on, but..."

Suzuna gave a gentle smile. "Perhaps he didn't need to go that far against you, dear. There's a difference between friendly competition and a fight where everything is on the line."

Arato grumbled. "Still... seeing him move like that, how much he pushed Gaara, even forced him to bleed—I won't forget that anytime soon. I've got a lot of training to do."

Suzuna exhaled. "I'll always be proud of you, Arato," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I heard you still have more fights ahead of you, don't you?"

"Yeah," Arato muttered, stretching. "Quarter-finals, in a month. And my next opponent is Kankurō, that weird puppet guy from Suna."

Ren stiffened slightly at the name, memories of their encounter flashing through his mind. He kept his face neutral. "Huh."

Arato didn't notice his reaction, already looking at him expectantly. "I need your help to prepare," he said. "Puppet users rely on trickery, traps, and poison, right? You're better at strategy and you're the poison expert."

Ren blinked, caught off guard. "I mean… yeah, I guess."

"Then help me figure out how to counter him."

Suzuna smiled softly at the exchange. "It sounds like your brother believes in your skills, Ren."

Ren hesitated, then nodded. "Alright," he said. "Let's make sure you win this."

Arato grinned, cracking his knuckles. "That's the spirit. I'm not losing to some creepy guy playing with his doll."

"Don't underestimate him," Ren warned. "Puppet users are dangerous."

Arato rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. That's why I've got you."

Suzuna just shook her head. "Just don't get yourself killed."

"Relax, Mom." Arato smirked. "The worst that can happen is a few bruises. Maybe a broken bone."

Ren snorted. "I think I've heard that before."

Their mother just sighed, rubbing her temples. "Why do I have two sons who only know how to give me headaches?"

Neither of them had an answer for that.

.

.

One month later

Ren sat beside his mother and Hana in the packed stadium, his sharp gaze locked onto the arena below. Arato rolled his shoulders loose, exhaling slowly as he faced his opponent. Across from him, Kankurō smirked, his puppet slung lazily over his back, its joints clicking ominously in the breeze. The war paint on Kankurō's face, along with his strange cat-eared hood, made him look like some bizarre festival performer—if one ignored the lethal weapon strapped to his back.

"You prepared him well," Suzuna said quietly beside him, hands folded in her lap. "He doesn't seem nervous."

Ren gave a slight nod but didn't respond. Confidence was a fleeting thing in battle. The real question was whether their preparation would hold up against the unknown. They had spent weeks analyzing puppet mechanics—chakra threads had a limit to their range, line of sight was key, and most puppets had hidden compartments filled with weapons and poisons. But Kankurō wasn't an opponent who stuck to a script. Puppet users were deception embodied, and Ren knew for a fact they hadn't seen all his tricks. The more Kankurō dictated the pace, the more dangerous he would become. Arato needed to force him into reactions, not the other way around.

Arato knew the basics "Begin!"

Arato didn't hesitate—he exploded forward.

A kunai flicked from his grip, aimed straight for Kankurō's chest. A feint.

Kankurō barely moved, but his puppet lurched to life, intercepting with wooden arms moving faster than any human limb. The kunai clattered harmlessly to the ground—just as Arato had planned. Already, he was closing in from below, his second kunai flashing as he slashed at Kankurō's legs.

Kankurō barely managed to jump back! His fingers twitched, chakra threads snapping the puppet into action—Too slow.

Arato was already pivoting. His earth-coated leg swept out—A direct kick to Kankurō's ribs! Kankurō skidded backward, eyes wide with shock. His fingers jerked the chakra threads instinctively, but Ren caught the mistake immediately.

"He wasn't expecting Arato to go for him directly," Ren muttered.

Hana grinned beside him. "Most opponents don't last long once he gets in too close. That was a good start."

But Kankurō recovered fast. His fingers twitched—his puppet spun, its wooden arms splitting apart—blades hidden in the joints snapped out. Arato barely dodged as the puppet slashed at him, its speed increasing as Kankurō adjusted. Then, the hidden counterattack.

A thin, nearly invisible steel wire lashed from the puppet's wrist like a whip!

Ren's eyes sharpened. "That's new."

The wire wrapped around Arato's wrist—tightening! Before Arato could react, Kankurō smirked. "Got you."

A violent yank on the threads—The puppet's other arm shot forward, aiming to impale Arato's side with a concealed blade.

Hana inhaled sharply. "He's not getting out of that—" But Arato was already moving.

His other hand flashed through signs. "Earth Style—Shockwave Step!"

A sudden burst of force cracked the arena floor.

BOOM!

Arato launched himself backward, breaking the grip of the wires before the puppet's blade could pierce him. He flipped midair, landing smoothly.

Ren exhaled. Good escape.

Kankurō clicked his tongue. "Tch. You're fighting with your brain this time."

"Of course he is," Ren murmured.

Kankurō's fingers danced again—his puppet blurred.

From its back, a second arm detached—its fingers already mid-swing.

Arato twisted—dodging just barely—The detached limb exploded.

BOOM!

Poisoned senbon rained down in a wide spread.

Arato threw himself into a roll, avoiding most of them—but a few grazed his shoulder.

Ren's eyes narrowed. We knew about those, but he's layering his attacks better. Arato didn't slow. He pressed forward again, kunai flashing. Force Kankurō to react—don't let him dictate. Kankurō's puppet twisted, spinning in place, blocking Arato's strikes with wooden limbs.

Then—the real trick. A thin, glistening mist began leaking from the puppet's mouth. Ren's stomach dropped. Poison gas.

Arato's eyes widened—he immediately backpedaled, covering his nose with his sleeve.

Suzuna inhaled sharply beside Ren. "That mist looks dangerous… Does Arato have a counter?"

"I gave him some general antidotes before the fight," Ren muttered, "but they won't help much if he inhales a direct dose."

Kankurō smirked. "Time's running out."

His puppet lunged again, faster this time. Arato wobbled for a moment, but adjusted. His hands flashed through seals "Earth Style—Stone Wall!"

A thick slab of stone erupted from the ground—blocking the puppet's advance.

Kankurō scoffed, already moving to adjust—Then Ren saw it.

The setup they prepared.

"Now," Ren muttered under his breath.

Arato dug his fingers into his palm, drawing blood— "Summoning Jutsu!" A puff of smoke erupted.

From the cloud, two small, pale spiders the size of cats emerged.

Kankurō blinked. "The hell—?"

Thwip!

Webbing shot forward.

The puppet's legs tangled instantly.

Kankurō's fingers twitched—but the chakra strings wouldn't budge.

"Sticky silk?" Suzuna murmured.

Hana grinned. "Puppets might be deadly, but they're still physical objects. If they can't move—"

"They're just expensive statues," Ren finished.

Kankurō growled, yanking at his strings. "Damn—!"

Arato didn't wait."Earth Style—Stone Pillar!"

A column of rock shot from the ground, slamming into Kankurō's side. He barely twisted away at the last second, avoiding a full impact—but his balance was thrown.

Ren exhaled. That was the first real turning point.

But it wasn't over yet.

Even tangled in the webs, the puppet's arms twisted unnaturally.

The mouth snapped open.

A hidden kunai launcher fired— Arato dodged, but his summons weren't fast enough and poofed out in puff of smoke.

Kankurō was already moving. With a flick of his fingers, he detached his chakra strings.

Ren's stomach dropped. "That's—"

The puppet's torso launched forward, completely independently.

It was two puppets pretending to be one?!

Arato barely had time to react—the new puppet's clawed fingers slashed across his side.

Blood sprayed.

Arato gritted his teeth, rolling to the side before the puppet could impale him outright.

Kankurō smirked. "You're not the only one who prepared, you know."

Ren clenched his jaw. That wasn't in the preliminaries.

Arato staggered slightly, gripping his side—but his eyes were still sharp. Blood dripped from his side, staining his dark tunic. His breaths came quicker now, but his stance remained solid. Across from him, Kankurō rolled his wrists, fingers twitching with controlled precision.

"You're good," Kankurō admitted, his smirk never faltering. "But you're not getting past this one."

His puppet's torso snapped back together with a sickening click. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he sent it rushing forward faster than before.

Ren's eyes narrowed. He was holding back its true speed.

Arato barely had time to react before the puppet's clawed hands shot forward, twisting unnaturally. One arm curved from an impossible angle, while the other rotated full circle, blades flicking from its fingertips.

Arato ducked—just barely! The steel sang as it whizzed past his head, cutting a few loose strands of his hair.

He threw himself back, but the puppet pursued relentlessly.

Kankurō was done playing defense.

A chakra string snapped taut—the puppet suddenly lunged low, swiping at Arato's legs. He barely hopped over it, but mid-air, Kankurō twisted his fingers—

The puppet's neck extended unnaturally, mouth gaping open.

Something clicked inside.

A blade shot from its throat—aiming straight for Arato's chest!

Ren's breath hitched. He's adjusting the angles on the fly.

Arato twisted his body mid-air, barely avoiding the strike— but the blade still scraped along his ribs, leaving a fresh gash.

He hit the ground in a roll, skidding across the dirt.

The crowd murmured.

Hana clicked her tongue. "Damn it, he's on the backfoot now."

Suzuna's hands clenched in her lap. "Kankurō's adapting too quickly."

Ren exhaled sharply. We planned a backup if he fell behind. Now he just has to shift gears.

Kankurō smirked, sensing blood. "What's wrong, spiderguy? Getting sloppy again?"

Arato's fingers tightened into fists.

No. This was just the prelude.

His hands blurred into rapid seals.

"Summoning Jutsu!"

He bit his thumb, slamming his hand onto the ground.

A massive puff of smoke erupted—A larger spider emerged. Its legs were the size of katanas, its body black and sleek, eyes glowing an eerie green.

Kankurō's smirk vanished.

Thwip!

A massive net of webbing shot forward, aiming directly for Kankurō.

He barely jumped aside—but it wasn't aimed at him.

The puppet froze.

Thick, sticky silk tangled every one of its joints.

Kankurō cursed. "Shit—! Again?"

His fingers yanked hard— but the puppet refused to budge.

Ren smirked. There it is.

Hana grinned. "That thing's not moving anytime soon."

Suzuna exhaled in relief. "A good trap."

Arato didn't waste time.

With his opponent briefly occupied, he charged.

Kankurō saw him coming and released one chakra string from his puppet, sending it toward Arato instead—

But Arato ducked low, twisting like a serpent. His movements were different now—sharper, coiled, fluid like a predator preparing to strike.

He stepped inside Kankurō's guard—his arms flexing into a high, curved stance.

Ren smiled faintly. There it is—Mantis Form.

A quick backhand flick to Kankurō's wrist—disrupting his control over his chakra threads.

Kankurō growled, pulling away—but Arato's other hand snapped forward, fingers curled like claws.

A bladed ridge of his hand slammed into Kankurō's shoulder.

Kankurō stumbled, but recovered fast, swinging a kunai.

Arato swayed back fluidly, like a cobra dodging a strike.

Then—he countered.

A sudden, sharp lunge forward. His fingers flicked out—aiming for pressure points.

Kankurō twisted away at the last second, avoiding a lethal strike—but Arato's palm still slammed into his ribs, poison-laced chakra flaring on impact.

Kankurō gasped.

Ren's gaze sharpened. Direct hit.

Hana cheered. "Ohhh, he got him! That's gotta sting."

Kankurō stumbled back, panting. His movements were slightly sluggish now.

He gritted his teeth, glaring. "You… think that's enough?"

Arato said nothing. He simply lifted his hands into another stance—a mixture of the mantis and the snake.

Then—he struck.

A barrage of blindingly fast strikes, each one aimed precisely—joints, tendons, vital points.

Kankurō tried to dodge, tried to counter, but Arato was too close.

The puppet was still trapped.

And Kankurō couldn't fight at this range.

Ren watched it unfold with quiet satisfaction. This was what all the training led to.

The finishing blow came swift and decisive.

Arato lunged—his palm struck Kankurō's solar plexus.

A pulse of poison chakra.

Kankurō's body went rigid.

His fingers trembled—his chakra strings flickered.

Then, his legs buckled.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

Silence.

Then—

"The winner—Arato Dokuhana!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Hana jumped up, fist pumping. "YEAHHH! That's how it's done!"

Suzuna smiled, visibly relieved. "Well done, son. Your father would be proud."

Below, Arato finally exhaled. He collapsed on the floor himself, touching his bleeding side, then looked up at Ren.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then—Arato gave a thumbs up.

Ren smirked. Good.

The planning had paid off.

But he knew—this was only the beginning.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

From Ashes, a New Leaf

Ren still sat in the crowded stadium, his eyes locked onto the battlefield below. The air was thick with tension as Sasuke and Gaara faced off, the fight escalating rapidly. Sasuke was fast—faster than before. His movements were sharper, his new Chidori crackled with raw power, and for a moment, it looked like he had the upper hand.

Gaara, on the other hand, was changing. His sand moved erratically, not just to defend, but to lash out desperately. His breathing was ragged, his body hunched. Something about him felt... wrong.

Ren wasn't the only one who noticed.

Hana, sitting beside him, shifted uncomfortably. "Something's off," she muttered, her dog whining lowly at her feet.

Suzuna's brow furrowed as she observed the battle, hands folded in her lap, her grip becoming just a little tighter.

Ren's instincts screamed at him. Something wasn't right.

Then—

A pulse.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of chakra blasted through the stadium. It wasn't just powerful—it was unnatural.

Ren's entire body locked up.

His vision blurred.

For a second, everything felt distant. His thoughts tangled, sluggish. His heartbeat slowed—his limbs felt heavy.

Genjutsu.

Through the fog of his mind, Ren barely registered what was happening. Around him, hundreds of people slumped forward, eyes dull, bodies swaying as sleep claimed them.

Beside him, Hana groaned, shaking her head violently, fighting the effect.

Ren's fingers twitched. His breathing hitched—he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The sharp pain cut through the haze, giving him a moment of clarity.

A wide-range sleep Genjutsu? At this scale?!

His eyes snapped up—the stadium was shifting.

Shinobi dropped in from above, garbed in the Sound and Sand insignias. Chaos erupted instantly as Leaf ninja moved to counter.

Ren's mind cleared just in time to see a kunai whizzing toward him.

He yanked Hana down—the blade buried itself into the wooden bench behind them.

"Move!" he shouted.

Hana shook off the lingering effects of the Genjutsu, baring her teeth. "Tch—I'm awake now!"

Three Sound ninja rushed them.

Ren blocked a strike with his forearm, retaliating with a swift knee to the gut. The enemy gasped, staggering back, but Ren didn't let up—he grabbed the back of their head and slammed it into the stone railing.

Hana, meanwhile, was already tearing through the second enemy, her dog leaping onto their back, fangs sinking deep. The shinobi screamed.

Ren barely had time to register the sudden spike of chakra behind him, before his vision blurred. A crushing weight settled over him, his mind clouding like thick mist rolling in over a lake. He staggered, gripping the railing of the stands as the roar of the battle in the arena below twisted into an eerie silence.

Then—pain.

Something struck him hard against the temple. A dull, brutal force, like a club smashing into the side of his head. His body crumpled, barely registering the rough stone beneath him as he hit the ground. His ears rang, his vision flickering between light and darkness.

Shouts. The clash of metal.

He forced his eyes open for just a moment—Hana was there, her back against his as they fended off two more enemy shinobi in the chaos of the invasion. His kunai was already in his hand, but his limbs felt sluggish, as if he was moving through water. The ringing in his ears made it impossible to focus.

He swung. A clash of steel. Then blackness.

A flash of awareness—he was running, Hana dragging him by the arm as explosions shook the city. His mother. Where was she? They had to find her.

Another blackout.

Suddenly, he was in one of Konoha's underground shelters, his mother gripping his face with both hands, checking his eyes, her expression tight with worry. He wanted to say something—reassure her—but his head swam again, the darkness taking him once more.

The next time he surfaced, it was to the distant, guttural sound of something massive crashing against stone. He turned his head sluggishly—through a narrow gap in the shelter's entrance, he caught sight of it. A snake. No, a monstrous serpent, its scales gleaming in the moonlight, its body large enough to tear through the walls of the village like paper.

And then—blackness.

When he finally woke fully, it was in the aftermath. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of blood and scorched stone mixing into something nauseating. He was lying on a cot in what looked like a temporary medical station. People murmured all around, exhausted voices speaking in hushed tones.

Then, a voice rang out—a formal, somber announcement.

"The Third Hokage… Hiruzen Sarutobi… has fallen."

Silence settled over the room. Heavy. Suffocating.

Ren sat up too fast, his vision swimming for a moment before steadying. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since the fight started, but now the enemy forces were withdrawing. The attack was over.

But the cost…

.

.

The weeks following the invasion blurred together in a haze of grief, reconstruction, and quiet determination.

The first major event was the funeral of the Third Hokage. A sea of black-clad shinobi, civilians, and dignitaries from allied villages filled the streets, lining the procession route as the bells tolled. The weight of loss hung over the village like a thick fog. Ren stood with his mother and Arato, watching as Hiruzen Sarutobi's portrait was placed among the past Hokage. The man who had led Konoha for decades was gone, and the hole he left behind could not be easily filled.

After the funeral, Ren started piecing together what had truly happened during the invasion. He learned of the Kazekage's assassination at the hands of Orochimaru, of the Sound forces trapping the Third in a barrier atop the roof, and the desperate battle that had ended with Sarutobi sacrificing himself to curse Orochimaru, robbing him of his ability to use jutsu. He had died protecting the village to the very last breath.

In the days that followed, Ren spotted Naruto at the village gates, standing beside a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a red haori over his green kimono-style robe. His long white hair spiked down his back, and red lines ran from his eyes to his jaw, giving him an almost sage-like appearance—if not for the wooden geta sandals and the large scroll strapped to his back. He recognized him from some old stories his father told him. This was Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin, and by reputation, a powerful shinobi.

Naruto, however, had a much less respectful name for him.

"Come on, Ero-Sensei!" Naruto whined, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be this crazy strong ninja, right? Teach me some awesome new jutsu!"

Jiraiya sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "For the last time, brat, I'm not 'Ero-Sensei'—I am Jiraiya, the Toad Sage! A man of culture and refinement!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Naruto said dismissively. "But you promised training, so let's go already!"

Ren smirked slightly despite himself. Naruto always had a way of making even serious departures seem lighthearted, but the intent behind his words was clear. He was going to train, to get stronger. It was a sentiment that resonated deeply with Ren.

Determined to push forward, Ren threw himself into training alongside Arato. With the exams postponed indefinitely due to the attack, they used the time to refine their techniques. Arato worked on perfecting his chakra control, his poisonous chakra becoming more refined in how it affected his techniques.

For Ren, training took a different path. He had spent the last few months focused on tactics and counterstrategies, but now, he needed to expand his own skillset. The helplessness of the invasion still weighing on his shoulders and the dull ache where he was hit reminding him of the consequences.

He delved deeper into his clan's techniques, training to refine and manipulate his chakra control into the soil, to sprout poisonous vines. He was able to create a flowerpatch, that on contact would release a noxious cloud into his enemy's path.

In addition, he began studying the basics of medical ninjutsu. While not an immediate combat strength, he realized that understanding healing techniques would not only help counteract enemy poisons but also make him more versatile in battle. The training was difficult, requiring precise chakra control far beyond basic ninjutsu, but he made progress, slowly but surely.

Five weeks after the invasion, the village finally had a new Hokage.

The inauguration of Lady Tsunade was a grand affair, though far less somber than the funeral. The people of Konoha needed hope, and the arrival of the legendary Sannin brought a renewed sense of stability. Ren stood among the gathered crowd, watching as the Fifth Hokage stepped onto the stage, her presence commanding. Despite her reputation as a gambler and a drinker, there was no doubt—she had the strength to lead.

.

.

Ren's eyes cracked open to the dim light filtering through his window. His neck ached from where he had dozed off at his desk, half-written notes sticking to his cheek. With a groggy sigh, he sat up, rubbing his temples. He hadn't meant to fall asleep mid-study session, but the past weeks had been exhausting.

He glanced at the clock. Late morning.

Yawning, he dragged himself downstairs, expecting to hear the usual morning routine. Instead, the house was eerily quiet.

Suzuna stood in the kitchen, her hands wrapped tightly around a cup of tea, her knuckles white.

Ren frowned. "Mom?"

She looked up, startled, as if she hadn't noticed him enter. Her expression softened slightly, but worry still lined her face.

"Ren," she said, her voice steady but subdued. "Arato didn't come home last night."

That got his attention. Arato was reckless, but he always checked in.

Before he could respond, a sharp knock at the door interrupted.

Suzuna's fingers clenched around her cup before she set it down and moved to open it. A masked Anbu stood in the doorway, clad in black, a katana on his back.

"Ren Dokuhana," the Anbu said, voice even and professional. "Your brother, Arato Dokuhana, is in the hospital recovering from injuries sustained during a mission. You are permitted to visit him immediately."

Suzuna inhaled sharply, but the tension in her shoulders barely eased. "Is he—?"

"His condition is stable." The Anbu turned his masked gaze to Ren. "Additionally, the Hokage requests your presence in her office at 4pm. Do not be late."

Without another word, he vanished, leaving the air thick with unanswered questions.

Ren's frown deepened. "What the hell happened?"

Suzuna exhaled, then straightened. "Let's go."

The hospital had an eerie stillness, the kind that only came after chaos. The invasion had left its mark—beds were filled, healers worked tirelessly, and the scent of antiseptic clung thick in the air. Ren and his mother walked down the hall, past tightly shut doors and hushed conversations.

When they reached Arato's room, Suzuna didn't hesitate, stepping inside with a quiet urgency.

Arato lay in bed, half his torso wrapped in fresh bandages. His left arm was immobilized, his face bruised, and a long, nasty gash ran along his jawline. Despite it all, he cracked a weak grin as they entered.

"Mom… Ren…" His voice was hoarse, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.

Suzuna strode to his bedside, eyes scanning him for anything the bandages didn't cover. Suzuna immediately sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his. "You're a fool," she muttered, but there was no anger in it—just relief.

Ren put his arms behind his head. "I'd say you look like hell, but I think that'd be an understatement."

Arato gave a weak chuckle. "Appreciate the honesty."

Ren leaned in closed, concern visible on his face, "What happened?"

Arato sighed, shifting slightly against the pillows. "It was… a mess. It wasn't an official mission. Naruto got the intel about Sasuke leaving. We left immediately. He and Shikamaru gathered whoever they could—no time to report, no permission, just a handful of us running straight into whatever was waiting for us."

Suzuna's fingers tightened into the sheets. "That was reckless."

"Yeah," Arato admitted. "We thought we could handle it." He paused, something unreadable in his expression. "We weren't ready."

Ren frowned but didn't interrupt.

"The Sound Four were monsters," Arato continued. "Not normal shinobi—twisted. Stronger than us in every way. And then there was…" He trailed off before shaking his head. "Kiba and I got separated from the others, ended up facing a guy named Sakon. Bastard had a technique that let him… merge into people's bodies. Get under their skin. Literally."

Ren's brow twitched. "That sounds horrifying."

"It was." Arato flexed his fingers slightly, as if he could still feel it crawling under his skin. "We fought him off as best we could, but—" His jaw clenched slightly. "It got bad. Kiba was… in rough shape."

Suzuna inhaled sharply. "And you?"

Arato hesitated. "I did what I had to."

Ren narrowed his eyes. That was an avoidance if he'd ever heard one. "Did you put yourself in more danger protect Kiba?"

Arato looked away. "It doesn't matter."

Suzuna exhaled, a quiet, controlled breath. "That was reckless. You shouldn't have been out there."

"None of us should have," Arato muttered.

Ren shifted, watching his brother's expression closely. "And then?"

Arato's lips curled slightly. "Then Kankurō showed up."

Ren blinked. "Kankurō?"

"Yeah," Arato let his head rest back against the pillow. "Came out of nowhere, his puppets tearing through that bastard just as he was about to finish us off." His voice was tired but laced with something else—maybe amusement. "You'd think after beating him, he'd have left me to die."

Ren huffed. "Guess he doesn't hold grudges."

Arato smirked slightly. "Or maybe he just doesn't like when people take his wins away from him."

Suzuna listened in silence, something unreadable in her eyes. "And the others?"

Arato's expression dimmed. "Shikamaru took some hits but made it back fine. Neji… he's in recovery. Chōji…" He hesitated, then exhaled. "No one knows. He pushed himself past his limit, used some kind of clan technique that… Well. The medics don't know if he'll make it."

Ren's jaw tightened. That was worse than he expected.

Suzuna sat down at the edge of the bed, her shoulders tense. "Rest now. We'll talk more later."

Arato nodded slightly, exhaustion already dragging him under. "Yeah… that sounds good."

Ren watched as his brother drifted into sleep, then turned to leave. His mother lingered a moment longer before following.

As they walked down the hall, Suzuna finally spoke. "The Hokage summoned you today."

Ren nodded. "I know."

She was quiet for a long time. Then, softly, she said, "Be careful, Ren."

Ren didn't respond immediately. He didn't know exactly what awaited him in Tsunade's office, but he had the feeling things weren't going to slow down anytime soon.

.

.

Ren stood in front of the Hokage's office, arms crossed, staring at the wooden door as he listened to the muffled conversation inside.

"Ugh, this damn paperwork! I swear, that blonde brat is going to be the death of me," a female voice groaned.

There was a rustling of papers, followed by the distinct sound of something heavy—probably a bottle—being set down a little too hard.

"Between this invasion, the mess with Sasuke, and that brat constantly nagging me to train him, I barely have time to breathe! Why did I take this job again?"

A second female voice sighed. "Because Jiraiya tricked you into it, Lady Tsunade."

A pause. Then a disgruntled, "Right. Should've punched him harder."

Before Ren could hear more, the door creaked open, revealing a slightly exasperated Shizune. She straightened at the sight of him. "Ren Dokuhana? The Hokage will see you now."

Ren stepped inside.

Tsunade looked exactly like the rumors described her—blonde, sharp-eyed, and confident—but there was something else beneath that. Despite her exhaustion, her gaze was piercing, assessing him before he even spoke.

She picked up a folder and flipped through it. "Ren Dokuhana," she read aloud. "High academic performance, strong grasp of tactical applications, above-average fieldwork during your supervised missions. Focuses on Ninjutsu with average taijutsu and weapons training, with an exception of excellent Senbon use." She turned a page, eyes narrowing slightly. "Your teachers also noted solid chakra control… and self-training in medical ninjutsu?"

Ren wasn't expecting that to stand out. "Only the basics," he said. "I learned a bit from my father and read through medical texts when I could, but without a teacher, it's mostly theory."

Tsunade tapped her fingers against the desk. "Your clan specializes in poisons, and you're focusing on medical ninjutsu?"

Ren hesitated. "My father used to tell me that creating a poison isn't just for harming, it can be used to help as an antidote in different dosage."

Tsunade's eyebrow raised. "Hmph. Interesting." She studied him for another moment before shaking her head. "I don't have time to dig into this now, but if you're serious about learning, you'll need proper training. Half-baked medical ninjutsu can do more harm than good."

Ren nodded. "I understand."

Tsunade exhaled and flipped to another page. "Alright, back to the main reason you're here. With everything that's happened, we need more active-duty shinobi. Based on your performance, you're ready."

Ren straightened.

"Congratulations. You're officially being promoted to genin," Tsunade continued. "Your new assignment is with Team Ten, under Asuma Sarutobi."

Ren processed that quickly.

Team Ten…

He hesitated. "That's Chōji's team, right?"

Tsunade's expression didn't shift. "Yes."

Something in her tone made Ren glance at her more carefully.

He hadn't spent much time over the past two years with Chōji personally. They'd trained in the same areas before, and he had met him a few times when visiting the Akimichi restaurant with his brother's team. Chōza Akimichi, Chōji's father, was Arato's sensai.

But if Ren was being placed there now…

He thought back to what his brother had told him earlier about Choji's condition.

"Is Chōji alright?" he asked.

Tsunade exhaled. "That's classified under patient confidentiality."

Ren frowned slightly but didn't press.

Tsunade studied him for a moment before adding, "What I can tell you is that his injuries were serious. The pills he used in his fight had… severe consequences. It's uncertain when—or if—he'll be back to duty."

Ren nodded slowly. So, it's bad. Maybe worse than I thought.

The thought lingered, but he pushed it aside for now.

"Your first official meeting with your new team is in two days at Training Ground Nine," Tsunade continued. "Asuma will fill you in on expectations."

Ren let out a slow breath, absorbing it all. He had gone from an Academy student to a full-fledged genin in the span of minutes. He had hoped it would happen over the past months. But… this fast? Certainly not at the cost of someone like Choji.

Tsunade's voice cut through his thoughts. "One last thing," she said. "This isn't just a temporary promotion. You're officially a part of Konohas forces now. So, get used to it."

Ren met her gaze and nodded. "Understood, Lady Hokage."

She gave a short nod. "Good. Now go. And don't add to my paperwork."

Ren left the office, his mind still adjusting to what had just happened.

In two days, he would meet his new team.

.

.

Ren walked toward Training Ground Nine, his stomach twisting with nerves. He had trained for this moment his entire life—becoming a shinobi, earning a place in a team—but this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He wasn't graduating with his class. He wasn't being placed in a team of fresh genin, all learning together.

He was replacing someone.

Even if no one blamed him for it, it still felt wrong.

As the clearing came into view, he heard voices—raised, sharp with frustration.

"I just don't see how you can act like this is normal!" Ino Yamanaka's voice was heated, her hands clenched at her sides. "Chōji nearly died, and now, what? We just throw in a new guy and keep going?"

Asuma Sarutobi, the bearded Jonin standing across from her, exhaled through his nose, clearly trying to keep his patience. "It's not about forgetting Chōji, Ino. It's about moving forward."

"That's easy for you to say," she snapped. "You're not the one losing a teammate!"

Shikamaru Nara, lounging nearby in the grass, let out a tired sigh. "No one's happy about this, Ino. But what do you want us to do? Refuse a new teammate and stop going on missions?"

"Maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing," she shot back. "Or do you not care either?"

Shikamaru frowned slightly. "You know that's not true."

"Then why aren't you pissed off?" Ino pressed. "Why aren't you saying anything about how wrong this is?"

Asuma ran a hand down his face. "I get it, Ino. I do. But we don't get to stop just because we want to. I argued with my own father about things like this for years. He always said the village comes first. At the time, I hated hearing it." He let out a slow breath. "But now that he is gone, I get it. We have a duty, and if we let our emotions get in the way—"

"People die," Shikamaru finished for him, voice quiet.

Ino looked away, her shoulders tense.

That was when Asuma noticed Ren.

"Ah," he said, straightening slightly. "Looks like our new teammate is here."

Ino turned abruptly, her stormy blue eyes locking onto Ren. Shikamaru tilted his head slightly, studying him, but his expression was unreadable.

Ren swallowed down his nerves and stepped forward. "It's good to meet you," he said, keeping his tone even. "I know this isn't an easy situation, but I'll do my best to pull my weight."

There was a beat of silence. Then, Ino huffed and turned away.

Asuma exhaled, then clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "Alright. Since we're all here, let's start with introductions." He turned to Ren. "You're the newcomer, so you go first. Name, skills, dreams, anything you want your new team to know."

Ren nodded. "I'm Ren Dokuhana. My family specializes in poisons, but I've also been working on medical ninjutsu and close combat. I was set to graduate from the Academy later this year, but due to recent events, I was promoted early. I hope to one day become an expert in poison craft as well as an excellent healer."

Asuma nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Right. I read your file. Excellent chakra control, strong analytical skills. And considering who your brother is, I imagine you've had some solid training even before this."

Ren gave a small nod, unsure how to respond.

"Alright," Asuma continued, "since I never actually introduced myself—Asuma Sarutobi, Jonin leader of Team Ten. I focus on close-quarters combat and wind-based techniques. My job is to make sure all of you stay alive and actually learn something along the way."

Ren wasn't sure what he had expected, but there was an ease to the way Asuma spoke that made him a little less anxious.

"Shikamaru, you're up," Asuma said.

Shikamaru sighed. "Shikamaru Nara. I use shadow-based techniques. One day I hope to have a quiet house at the edge of town to relax and play shogi in. I'm also the guy who gets stuck planning everything when nobody else wants to." He shot a glance at Asuma. "Which happens a lot."

Asuma grinned. "You're the best strategist in your generation, kid. It'd be a waste not to put that to use."

Shikamaru muttered something about troublesome people before laying back down.

"Ino, your turn," Asuma prompted.

Ino crossed her arms. "Ino Yamanaka. I specialize in mind-transfer techniques and sensory skills. One day I'll become a sexy and powerful kunochi like Lady Tsunade. I also run the team's communication in the field."

Her voice was clipped, but at least she was cooperating.

"Good," Asuma said. Then, he turned back to Ren. "Now, onto the important part."

Ren frowned slightly. "Important part?"

"You're not officially part of Team Ten just yet."

Ren blinked. "What?"

Asuma smirked. "You didn't think we'd just let you waltz in and take Chōji's place without proving yourself first, did you?"

Ren stiffened, straightening. "What kind of test?"

Asuma grinned, pulling a cigarette from his vest and tucking it between his lips. "Simple. You just have to land a hit on me in the next hour."

Ren felt his stomach drop slightly.

Shikamaru sighed. "He did the same thing to us when we started. It's a pain."

"Yeah, but we had Chōji," Ino muttered, her tone still bitter.

Ren exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had expected a challenge. He hadn't expected it to start now.

Asuma took a slow drag from his cigarette, then rolled his shoulders. "Hope you're ready, kid."

Ren clenched his fists. He didn't have a choice.

The test had begun.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 7: A Shinobi's Welcome

Ren stood across from Asuma in the clearing, his muscles tense, mind racing. The sun hung high, casting dappled light through the trees, painting the training ground in shifting shadows. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, but the air between them felt impossibly still, like the moment before a storm.

"One hour," Asuma said, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, but Ren knew better than to assume any openings were real. "Land a hit on me, and you pass."

Simple in theory. Impossible in practice.

Ren exhaled slowly. He had known this wouldn't be easy—Asuma Sarutobi wasn't just any jonin; he was one of the strongest in the village. If he fought at full power, even an entire genin team wouldn't be able to touch him. But this wasn't about overwhelming strength. It was about skill, creativity, and adaptation.

This was his mountain to climb. No, not a mountain—more like an ancient tree, roots deep, unshakable, towering above the forest floor. And Ren? A sprouting vine, fragile but persistent, searching for a path upward.

No hesitation. He moved.

With a flick of his wrist, three senbon needles shot toward Asuma's center mass. A simple opener, testing reactions. The jonin shifted ever so slightly—just enough for the needles to pass harmlessly by him.

Ren had expected that.

The instant Asuma dodged, Ren threw a kunai—not at him, but at the ground behind him. The moment it hit, an explosive tag hidden in the hilt erupted in a sharp blast of smoke and force. A cover for movement.

Ren dashed in, chakra surging to his feet. His hand flicked out another set of senbon, this time laced with a fast-acting muscle relaxant. If even one scratched Asuma, it would dull his reflexes. He aimed for the legs, forcing Asuma to either dodge upward or deflect.

A single step from Asuma was all it took. His foot barely touched the ground before his body pivoted mid-air, twisting effortlessly between the flying needles. A kunai flickered into his hand, parrying the last two before his boots touched down again.

Ren was already on him.

A poison-coated dagger lashed out, a low stab aimed at Asuma's ribs. Asuma's arm came up, deflecting it at an angle, but Ren had anticipated the redirection—he let the momentum flow into a sweeping kick aimed at Asuma's knee.

Blocked.

A heavy palm shoved Ren back just as a thin vine burst from the ground behind Asuma, snapping toward his ankle like a striking snake. He barely looked as he sidestepped, letting the chakra-infused tendril slap the dirt uselessly.

Still nothing.

Ren landed on his feet, adjusting his grip on the dagger. He couldn't brute-force this, but he had spent weeks refining his approach. He had to use everything—every trick, every ounce of patience.

Poisonous pollen burst from his fingertips, catching the wind in a slow, shimmering cloud between them. Asuma raised a brow.

"Clever," he admitted.

Then, with a single gust of breath, he exhaled—Wind Release. The pollen scattered harmlessly into the treetops.

Damn it.

Ren dashed sideways, weaving through the underbrush, forcing Asuma to move. A flick of his fingers sent more senbon into the foliage—not at Asuma, but at the barely visible strands of ninja wire he had strung up beforehand. The moment the needles connected, the taut lines snapped, releasing a cascade of kunai from the tree branches above.

Steel rained down.

Asuma ducked low, his movements impossibly fluid as he weaved through the falling blades, knocking aside the few that came too close. Ren wasn't aiming to hit—just to limit movement. He was already forming seals.

"Poison Bloom Jutsu!"

Thick vines erupted from the ground in a wide arc, reaching toward Asuma with clawing tendrils. Ren surged forward at the same time, aiming to force the jonin into a dead zone.

But Asuma didn't even blink.

His fingers twitched. A flicker of chakra—then steel flashed.

In an instant, the vines were severed, their chakra-infused fibers falling limp to the ground. Ren barely had time to react before Asuma was behind him, a heavy hand clamping onto his shoulder.

"Not bad," Asuma said casually, "but you're still too focused on leading me into a trap instead of adapting in the moment."

Ren swung his dagger in a blind arc—Asuma was already gone.

His breath came hard now, his mind racing. His plan had been good. It should have worked. And yet, he had barely even forced Asuma to move at full speed.

But he wasn't done. Not yet.

The hourglass had only just begun to drain.

Ren exhaled sharply, crouching just out of range. His body ached, sweat clung to his forehead, and the clock was ticking. He had thrown everything he had at Asuma—traps, poisons, tactics—but he hadn't even come close to landing a hit.

He wasn't going to win like this.

His mind raced, replaying everything that had happened since stepping onto the training ground. Every movement, every interaction, every detail. He thought back to Asuma's challenge:

"One hour. Land a hit on me, and you pass."

That was all he said. No restrictions. No rules against teamwork.

Ren's breath caught. He had been fighting alone because that's what he was used to. Even with Arato, their training had been about coordination, not synergy. But this wasn't a test of individual skill—it was a test of whether he could be part of a team.

His fists clenched.

He pushed back, retreating from the fight.

Asuma, who had barely broken a sweat, arched a brow but made no move to pursue. Instead, he reached into his vest, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a single flick of chakra.

"Giving up already?" he mused, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

Ren didn't answer. He was already moving.

Shikamaru lay sprawled in the grass, staring at the clouds like the whole situation was someone else's problem. Ino stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes still sharp from their earlier argument.

Ren swallowed his hesitation and stepped forward. "I need your help."

Ino scoffed, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. "Yeah, no kidding."

Shikamaru sighed. "Took you long enough."

Ren hesitated, then exhaled. "I—I've always fought alone. My brother and I trained together, but it wasn't the same as this. I don't know how to be part of a team like you two do."

Shikamaru's gaze flicked toward him, more focused now.

Ren pressed on. "But I know one thing—I can't pass this test alone. We can do this if we work together."

Ino arched a brow. "And what makes you think we want to help you? We don't even know if you belong here yet."

Ren hesitated but stood his ground. "I don't know if I do either," he admitted. "But I want to." His jaw tightened. "And I know that I need you both to make this work."

For a moment, neither of them responded.

Ino crossed her arms, looking away.

Shikamaru groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Troublesome… but you're right." He sat up properly, giving Ren his full attention for the first time. "We've got, what, forty minutes left? Tch. Guess we should at least try."

Ino sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Fine. But if this plan flops, I'm blaming you."

Ren let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The three of them huddled together, Shikamaru quickly outlining a plan. Ren listened intently, noticing how naturally the other two fell into rhythm—Shikamaru analyzing, Ino poking holes, both of them sharpening their approach like whetstone on steel.

Ren wanted to contribute, but their teamwork was already so well-developed that he struggled to fit in. He wasn't Choji. He didn't have the same bulk, the same sheer physicality. When Shikamaru assigned him the role Choji would normally take, it felt wrong.

But he didn't argue.

Instead, as the plan began, he did his best to play his part.

.

.

The battle resumed with a well-timed distraction.

Shikamaru cast his shadow across the training ground, stretching it low and wide, forcing Asuma to step carefully. At the same time, Ino dashed in, flanking from the right while Ren came in from the left.

Ren threw down a smoke bomb, obscuring the area in thick mist. Shikamaru's shadow shifted, lurching forward in the confusion, while Ino feinted a direct attack—just like they had planned.

Ren moved into position, heart pounding. He threw senbon toward where he knew Asuma would dodge, setting up a forced movement.

Everything was lining up.

Then—

A blur of motion.

Asuma stepped just outside of the shadow's reach, twisted mid-dodge to avoid Ino's strike, and countered effortlessly.

Ino barely had time to raise her arms before she was sent skidding back.

Ren lunged forward, trying to fill the gap—just like Shikamaru had told him to. But the moment he stepped in, Asuma was already turning, his boot slamming into Ren's ribs. The world spun before he crashed into the dirt.

Pain flared in his side.

Damn it—

He wasn't fast enough. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't Choji.

Their plan collapsed in an instant.

Shikamaru cursed, pulling his shadow back before Asuma could use it against him. Ino pushed herself up, looking just as frustrated as Ren felt.

Asuma exhaled another puff of smoke, watching them with a measured gaze. "Not bad," he admitted. "But you can't just plug someone new into an old formation and expect it to work."

Ren clenched his fists. He had slowed them down.

Shikamaru sighed, rubbing his temples. "This isn't gonna work like this," he muttered.

Ino huffed, brushing dirt from her sleeves. "You think?"

Ren forced himself to breathe. His body ached, but it wasn't just physical pain—it was the realization that he had been trying to be someone else.

He wasn't Choji.

He was Ren.

If they were going to win, they had to fight in a way that fit all of them.

He pushed himself to his feet, determination burning in his chest.

"We need a new plan," he said.

Shikamaru glanced at him, then smirked. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Ren wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes locking onto Asuma. "Yeah."

This time, he wouldn't force himself into a role that didn't fit.

Ren exhaled slowly, centering himself. The pain in his ribs throbbed, but he shoved it aside. If they wanted to win, they had to fight in a way that suited all of them.

He turned to Shikamaru and Ino. "We need a new plan."

Ino crossed her arms, still irritated. "So? Got some brilliant idea?"

Ren nodded. "We've been rushing too much. If we draw the fight out, we can wear him down. All three of us are better at mid to long-range combat. If we control the pace, we can create an opening instead of forcing one."

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "Go on."

Ren swallowed and continued, "Asuma-san hasn't seen me train or fight much, we need to also utilize my strengths and use poisons. "

That got their attention.

"I don't just mean coating weapons," he clarified. "We create a layered assault—different kinds of poisons at once. Some airborne, some through direct contact. Nothing deadly, just irritants. We make it harder for him to keep track of all of us."

Ino smirked. "Now that I like."

Shikamaru rubbed his chin. "And we keep pressure on him with feints and shadow manipulation. Ino, you can use your Mind Body Switch to throw him off for a second, and Ren can finish it."

Ren nodded. He could see it now—the pieces fitting together. They weren't just attacking anymore. They were hunting.

Asuma flicked ash from his cigarette. "You three done whispering?"

Shikamaru cracked his neck. "Yeah. We're ready."

The second assault began.

.

.

They started slow.

Ren moved first, throwing senbon coated in mild paralytic poison—not strong enough to affect a jonin, but enough to force him into careful movements. At the same time, he threw a small vial to the ground, releasing a fine mist laced with another concoction: a mild numbing agent.

Asuma frowned slightly. He stepped back, but Ino was already there, launching kunai to limit his space. Shikamaru's shadow stretched toward his feet.

Asuma dodged with ease, but Ren wasn't aiming to hit him—he was herding him.

Another burst of smoke exploded around him, this time infused with an herb that irritated the eyes. It wouldn't blind him, but it would make him squint, even if just for a moment.

That moment was all they needed.

Shikamaru's shadow struck again. Asuma sidestepped, but his movement was a fraction slower than before.

Ino rushed forward, feinting a direct attack—forcing Asuma to react—before suddenly stopping and releasing her jutsu.

For a brief second, her body sagged as her consciousness shot toward Asuma.

He twisted at the last moment, avoiding a full possession, but that hesitation was all Ren needed.

He dashed in, pushing his speed past his limit. His ribs burned, his muscles ached, but he ignored it all.

Trust your team.

Shikamaru's shadow twitched again—one last distraction.

Ren's arm shot forward, a single senbon aimed not at Asuma himself, but at the cigarette dangling from his lips.

The tip of the needle grazed the edge of the paper, cutting it cleanly.

The cigarette fell.

Silence.

Asuma blinked.

Ino let out a sharp breath, stumbling back into her body. Shikamaru lowered his hands.

Ren stood there, chest heaving.

Then—

Asuma chuckled. He dusted his vest off, glancing at the fallen cigarette before looking at Ren. "Not bad, kid."

Ren blinked. "That counted?"

Asuma smirked. "You hit something I was holding. Good enough for me."

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then Ino threw her hands in the air. "Yes! We actually did it!"

Shikamaru gave a lazy grin. "Troublesome, but… yeah, nice job."

Ren let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They won.

The tense atmosphere from before was gone, replaced with something lighter, something real.

Ino stretched. "Alright, I'm heading to the hospital. I wanna check on Choji."

Shikamaru nodded. "I'll come with."

Ren hesitated. He still wasn't sure what to say about Choji—what he could say. But as Ino and Shikamaru walked away, he realized something.

He wasn't replacing Choji.

He was joining them.

Asuma clapped a hand on Ren's shoulder. "You did good today," he said. "You've got potential. Keep that up, and you'll fit in just fine."

Ren looked up at him, still catching his breath. "So… I passed?"

Asuma grinned. "Yeah. Welcome to Team Ten."

Ren felt something settle in his chest—something warm, something solid.

This was only the beginning.

"Tomorrow morning," Asuma continued, "we start our first real training as a team. Get some rest. You'll need it."

Ren nodded.

He wasn't just an academy student anymore.

He was a shinobi.

And for the first time, he felt like he truly belonged.

.

.

By the time Ren reached home, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows over the quiet street. His steps were steady, but his mind was still running through the events of the day. The challenge, the strategy, the final strike. The weight of Asuma's words when he'd told him he was officially part of Team Ten.

He had done it. He was a ninja now. A genin, just like his brother.

He slid the door open, stepping inside to the familiar scent of simmering herbs. His mother's tea. A mix meant for healing, no doubt for Arato. The house was quiet, save for the low murmur of voices from the main room.

Ren followed the sound.

"—so what, they just leave me in limbo?" Arato's voice carried a note of irritation. "Not a genin, not a chunin, just waiting for them to make up their minds?"

"You're recovering," their mother replied, patient but firm. "And whether you stay a genin or move up to chunin, you're already where you need to be."

Arato huffed, crossing his arms. "Doesn't feel like it."

Ren stepped into the room. "At least you're already on a team."

Both of them turned to him.

Arato looked concerned for a moment. "Wait. Did you—"

Ren chuckled. "Just kidding, I passed."

His mother exhaled, relief washing over her features before she rose smoothly from her seat, crossing the space between them. Her hands cupped his face gently, her touch warm and grounding. "I knew you would," she murmured.

Ren stilled for a moment, then let out a breath, shoulders relaxing as he leaned into the warmth of her hands. She always did this—when he came home from training exhausted, when he was sick, when she when the nightmares of their past came out.

And now, when he had finally become a shinobi.

"You worked so hard for this," Suzuna said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "Since we came to this village, you always pushed so hard, even when it would have been easier to stop. I'm proud of you, Ren."

His throat tightened. He swallowed past it.

"Thanks, Mom."

When she pulled him into a firm embrace, it wasn't a surprise, but it still meant something. That solid, reassuring presence—unwavering, as it always was.

Arato smirked from where he sat. "Look at you. An actual ninja now. Took you long enough."

Ren rolled his eyes. "You were just stuck in the hospital. If anything, I caught up."

Arato scoffed. "Right, right. And what, you think we're equals now?"

"Could be," Ren shot back. "We're both genin. We could even end up on the same mission someday."

Arato clicked his tongue. "I'm gonna become a chunin. And please. You'd love me tagging along."

Ren hesitated. "...I think I would, actually."

That made Arato pause. He studied his younger brother for a moment, then let out a short laugh. "Well. Guess I wouldn't hate it either."

Their mother shook her head, amused. "I should have expected this from the two of you."

Ren felt a small smile tug at his lips. It was strange—he had expected relief when he passed, maybe even a sense of accomplishment. But this—standing here, part of a family where both of them were ninja now—felt different.

It felt right.

.

.

The mission was simple.

At least, it should have been.

"Are you kidding me?" Ino groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "We're ninja, not pet catchers!"

Shikamaru grumbled, hands tucked into his pockets as he slouched beside her. "This is what we get for having a rookie on the team again."

Ren winced. "Sorry."

Ino immediately turned to him, hands on her hips. "Oh no, don't you start apologizing! It's not your fault! It's the stupid mission system!" She threw her hands in the air. "Ugh! I thought we were done with this after the last time we caught this dumb cat!"

Ren blinked. "Last time?"

"Yeah," Shikamaru muttered. "This one's a repeat offender."

A quiet mew came from the mission scroll in Asuma's hand. He held it up with a wry grin. "Lady Daimyo's cat, Tora. Likes to escape at least once a month. Your job is to bring it back in one piece."

"Can we bring it back slightly traumatized?" Ino muttered.

Asuma chuckled. "Not if you don't want a noblewoman coming after you."

Ren glanced at his teammates. Ino was fuming. Shikamaru looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Meanwhile, Ren himself—he wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was excited.

His first real mission.

It wasn't glamorous, and it was clearly a pain for his teammates, but it was still something he'd worked toward for years.

Even if the actual mission was chasing a runaway cat.

Asuma clapped his hands together. "Alright, kids. You know the drill. The Daimyo's wife is expecting results, so don't take all day."

With that, the three of them set off.

They found their target almost immediately.

The cat was perched on the branch of a tree, its beady little eyes scanning the area like a trained escape artist. Its fur—once a pristine white—was ruffled and covered in twigs. Its ears twitched at the slightest sound.

"Alright," Ino whispered. "We go in fast and—"

Tora bolted.

"—I hate this cat."

The chase was on.

Ren dashed forward, senbon in hand as he leapt over a bush. Shikamaru grumbled something about "troublesome missions" before reluctantly following. Ino was already ahead of them, moving like a blur.

They weaved through the training grounds, dodging trees, jumping over fences, and even disrupting a flock of birds as they sprinted after the surprisingly fast feline.

"This is ridiculous," Ino panted.

"It's just a cat," Ren muttered, trying to keep up.

"You say that now, wait until you see how many scratches this thing can dish out!"

The cat made a sharp turn, zigzagging toward a cluster of storage crates. Ino narrowed her eyes. "I'm stopping this right now— Mind Body Switch Technique!"

Her consciousness shot forward—

—only for Tora to dodge out its path the last moment.

She connected with something behind.

She wasn't in the cat.

She was in Ren.

The moment Ino's mind connected with Ren's, she knew something was wrong.

She had expected the rush of instincts, the flood of animal senses, the disorienting shift of being in a completely different body—like when she usually possessed a person or even a small animal.

Instead, she was overwhelmed by something entirely different.

A rush of thoughts. His thoughts.

For a fleeting moment, she felt what it was like to be Ren.

A quiet mind, always observing. Cataloging details, analyzing angles, predicting movements. She felt the weight of poisons carefully balanced in his pouch, the mental notes on how each one reacted with different materials, the almost obsessive thought process of how to refine them.

A yearning. To prove himself. To be seen as a true ninja, not just the sickly boy who had trained in isolation. To live up to his brother's expectations, to his mother's faith in him, to the legacy of his clan—even if it was dying.

A deep-rooted insecurity. Not from arrogance, not from thinking he was better than others, but from doubt. From not knowing if he fit here. If he could ever match the kind of bond that Shikamaru and Chōji had. If he would always be a step behind because he had never been part of a real team before.

It was brief, but it hit her.

A sharp tug.

Ino gasped as she was yanked back into her own body, stumbling slightly.

Ren, mid-step, faltered. His head snapped to her, gray-blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Ino?" he asked, voice uncertain.

She blinked rapidly, her breath uneven. That... that wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to feel that much.

Ino had possessed plenty of people before—enemies, civilians, even her own teammates in training. She was used to slipping into another person's body, feeling their instincts take over, but not their thoughts. Not like this.

For a split second, she knew him. Not just as the quiet, poison-obsessed new teammate. Not just as the weirdly polite kid who trained himself into exhaustion to keep up. She had felt his doubts, his drive, his need to prove himself.

And now she was staring right at him, face heating up because—what was she supposed to say?

"Uh—" she started, but Ren looked just as caught off guard. His brow furrowed, not in anger, but something like wary confusion.

"...Did you just—"

"I didn't mean to!" Ino cut in, maybe too fast, throwing her hands up as if that would erase what just happened. "That—That wasn't on purpose! I was aiming for the cat!"

Ren still looked puzzled, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. "...That was weird," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You think you're freaked out? I'm the one who just got a front-row seat to whatever's going on in that broody little head of yours," she shot back, crossing her arms.

Ren stiffened. "Broody?"

"So broody," she confirmed, giving him a scrutinizing look. "Like, wow. I get it now. No wonder you always look like you're analyzing the meaning of life or something."

Ren shifted awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond.

Ino groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Ugh, just—forget it happened, okay?"

"...Okay."

A silence stretched between them, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a kunai.

Then—

"Found you," Shikamaru's lazy drawl cut through the tension.

They both turned just in time to see Tora, now stiff as a board, being dragged out from under a pile of wooden crates. The cat's whiskers twitched in betrayal, tiny limbs locked in place by Shikamaru's shadow.

With an exaggerated, sluggish movement, Shikamaru made the feline take an awkward step forward.

"Can you two not have an existential crisis in the middle of the mission?" he sighed. "Seriously, it's just a cat."

Ren and Ino turned a bit red from embarrassment and exchanged a quick, unreadable look before simultaneously deciding not to bring up what had just happened.

"Shut up, Shikamaru," Ino muttered.

"Yeah," Ren added.

Shikamaru smirked. "Huh. Guess you two are starting to get along."

Neither of them had a comeback for that.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 8: Bloom in Darkness

Darkness had always been a reliable companion. It did not betray, did not falter, did not waver in its resolve. Unlike the fools who basked in the sun, clinging to sentimentality and weakness, he had always understood the necessity of sacrifice. Of control.

The village was vulnerable.

The attack had left its mark—so many wounded, so many gone. The Third had fallen, and with him, a great deal of stability. And yet, instead of seizing the opportunity to reinforce Konoha's foundation, the reins of power had been placed into the hands of a woman too blind to the realities of war. She had strength, yes, but it was the wrong kind of strength. The kind that hesitated, that coddled. She had already let the Uchiha slip through her fingers.

That was perhaps the greatest failure.

The boy had been within reach. Isolated. Wracked with grief, consumed by vengeance—ripe for guidance, for shaping. And yet, they had allowed him to be taken. Spirited away by that snake. The Uchiha should have belonged to Konoha, to its will, its future. Now, he was a weapon in another's hands.

It was unacceptable.

Then there was the other one.

The Jinchūriki.

Another opportunity wasted. The boy was reckless, unfocused, but he had power. Power that could have been cultivated, tempered, made useful. Instead, he had been allowed to leave, to wander aimlessly under the so-called "guidance" of a man who had long since abandoned his responsibilities to the village.

Naruto Uzumaki should have been reforged into something more, something worthy of the burden he carried. Instead, he had been handed off to a fool more interested in chasing women than shaping the future.

Two pieces lost.

But the game was far from over.

His fingers tapped against the polished wood of his desk, his mind sorting through the remaining options. The invasion had done more than just weaken Konoha's defenses; it had exposed those who could not be relied upon. And more importantly, it had revealed those who could still be of use.

There were still prospects.

New genin, untested but promising. Some with valuable lineages, others with untapped potential. There were those who had been wounded, physically or otherwise, who might seek a firmer path forward. And then there were those overlooked by the village's leadership—assets hidden in plain sight, waiting for the right guidance.

One name stood out in particular.

A minor piece, in the grand scheme of things, but one with potential. His lineage made him an interesting prospect, but it was his actions that intrigued him more. The boy had already begun to step outside the role expected of him, to push beyond what others assumed of him. If given the right push, he could become something far more valuable.

He leaned back, exhaling slowly.

The sentimentalists thought they had won. That by securing their positions, by rallying under the new Hokage's banner, they had ensured the village's future.

They were wrong.

Konoha's future did not belong to those who clung to outdated ideals of peace and mercy. It belonged to those willing to shape it with their own hands, to carve strength out of weakness.

And when the time came, he would ensure that Konoha stood unshaken, its enemies crushed beneath an unyielding will.

For now, he would wait. And watch.

And when the moment presented itself…

He would act.

.

.

The morning air was crisp, the training ground still damp from the lingering dew. Team 10 stood in a loose formation, the weight of the past few weeks still hanging over them.

Asuma stretched his arms over his head, cigarette tucked between his fingers, his expression as relaxed as ever. "Alright, before we start today, I want to go over something. The Chunin Exams, the invasion, and what came after. You all experienced some part of it, so I want to hear your thoughts."

Shikamaru sighed, hands in his pockets. "Troublesome… What's there to say? I screwed up. We lost Sasuke, nearly lost Choji, and I nearly got my team killed."

Ino crossed her arms. "We weren't ready. None of us were. But the village wasn't either." Her voice had a frustrated edge to it.

Ren stayed quiet, watching the other two. He hadn't been there for most of it, not in the same way they had. He had fought, yes, but he hadn't been part of that desperate mission to retrieve the Uchiha. His perspective was different.

Asuma exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "You're not wrong. Konoha wasn't prepared for the invasion. We got caught off guard, and a lot of people paid the price for that. But you kids? You stepped up. You made mistakes, yeah, but don't think for a second that you didn't do anything meaningful. That goes for all of you."

Shikamaru muttered something under his breath but didn't argue. Ino still looked dissatisfied.

Asuma turned his gaze to Ren. "And you, newbie? You weren't in the exams, but you got caught up in the mess like the rest of us."

Ren straightened slightly. "I tried to help where I could. But I know I was just barely keeping up." He hesitated, then added, "That's why I have to get stronger."

Asuma grinned. "Good answer."

He clapped his hands together. "Alright. Enough talking. We're getting to work."

Asuma pulled them aside one by one, addressing their training needs.

"Shikamaru, you already know what your weakness is," Asuma said.

Shikamaru sighed. "Stamina."

"Exactly. You're smart enough to beat almost anyone, but your body's gotta keep up with your brain. So, we're working on that today."

Shikamaru groaned but didn't complain further.

"Ino," Asuma continued, "your biggest weakness right now is that you rely too much on your clan techniques, but you don't have the stamina to sustain them for long. You also don't have a backup when they fail. So we're going to work on close-range combat."

Ino nodded, determination in her eyes. "Fine by me. I'm not letting myself fall behind."

Then, Asuma turned to Ren.

"You. We're going to focus on something very simple, but very important—getting you out of danger."

Ren frowned slightly. "Dodging?"

Asuma smirked. "Dodging, repositioning, keeping mobile. Your fighting style relies on maintaining distance, right? Poisons, wires, senbon, and mid-range jutsu—none of that works if your opponent closes the gap and you can't get away."

Ren felt a weight settle in his chest. He knew it was true. Against the sound nin, he had barely kept up. He couldn't afford to be a sitting target.

"Come on," Asuma said, motioning him forward. "Let's see where you're at."

Ren exhaled and took his stance.

.

.

Ren's breath came steady, his stance set as he watched Asuma. His mind replayed the jonin's words.

"You need to move faster. Not just your body, but your decisions."

Before Ren could respond, Asuma flicked his wrist. Something glinted in the light—kunai, flying toward him.

Ren barely had time to react. His body moved before his mind caught up, twisting aside as the blade whizzed past. But then Asuma was on him, closing the gap with practiced ease. A feint to the left, a real strike to the right—Ren threw himself back, barely avoiding the blow.

"Good," Asuma mused, withdrawing slightly. "But you're only dodging one threat at a time. You need to account for everything at once."

Ren didn't get a chance to respond. A flick of Asuma's fingers, and another kunai shot toward him. But this time, Asuma lunged at the same moment.

Ren sidestepped the weapon, only to realize too late that Asuma had anticipated his movement. A solid kick connected with his side, sending him stumbling.

"Keep moving."

He dug his heels in, twisting to regain his footing. Asuma wasn't slowing down. A palm strike came for his shoulder—Ren dropped low, rolling out of reach. The moment he sprang back to his feet, another kunai was already flying.

He barely ducked in time.

The exercise continued, a brutal mix of dodging, weaving, and evasion. It wasn't just about running from an attack. It was about predicting the flow of battle, moving with precision, never lingering in one place too long.

Ren's body was burning, his muscles screaming. He needed more speed—more control.

Meanwhile, across the training ground, Shikamaru groaned.

"Come on, Shikamaru!" Ino called, hands on her hips. "You're barely even trying."

"Trying is overrated," he muttered, arms trembling as he pushed himself up from the ground.

His training was deceptively simple—build stamina, increase his endurance, improve his physical conditioning. The problem? He hated every second of it.

Asuma had him on a strict regimen—push-ups, sprints, reaction drills—all things that Shikamaru would rather not be doing. But even he had to admit, after the retrieval mission, he needed the improvement. His lazy strategy hadn't been enough to keep his teammates safe.

"Troublesome," he muttered, dropping onto his back with an exhausted huff.

Ino, on the other hand, was locked in an entirely different kind of battle.

She squared off against a wooden dummy, striking with measured precision. Each punch and kick had to be controlled—not just strong, but deliberate.

"Again," she muttered to herself, stepping back before launching into another flurry of attacks. She wasn't just training her strength. She was refining her control, ensuring that every movement counted.

When she wasn't sparring, she was working on her clan techniques—honing her focus, sharpening her ability to invade and manipulate minds.

Her frustration was evident, though. Her last slip-up during the mission—entering Ren's mind—still bothered her. That moment of seeing his thoughts, his emotions, had been… unexpected.

She shook it off, refocusing on the target in front of her.

No more mistakes.

Ren, meanwhile, was still moving. His lungs burned, sweat dripped down his back, but he refused to stop.

Kunai flashed. He spun aside. A strike came for his ribs—he twisted away.

It wasn't perfect. He still got clipped, still stumbled at times. But he was improving.

Asuma finally stepped back, observing him for a moment before nodding.

"Not bad."

Ren panted, straightening up.

"We'll keep working on this," Asuma said. "You need to move like this without having to think about it. The moment you hesitate—"

He flicked his wrist. Ren barely managed to dodge the surprise kunai.

"—you lose."

Ren nodded, determination settling in his chest.

Asuma glanced toward the others. "Alright, let's wrap it up soon."

Shikamaru groaned in relief. Ino rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

Ren exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his exhaustion.

Training with Team 10 was different than what he was used to. Tougher, more structured. But as he looked at the others, he realized something.

He wasn't alone in this.

And that made all the difference.

.

.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the training ground. Hours had passed since they started, and exhaustion clung to their bodies like a second skin. Despite that, there was something undeniably satisfying about the ache in their muscles—the proof of hard work done.

Ren exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulder as he stepped back from Asuma, his breath still coming in short gasps. He had spent the last round dodging a flurry of kunai and sparring with Asuma in close quarters, trying to push his speed and reaction time. He wasn't fast enough yet—he could feel that much—but there was progress.

Across the training field, Ino was shaking out her arms, having just finished her own session of movement drills and combat training. Her hair was a mess, her stance a little unsteady, but there was fire in her eyes.

Shikamaru, meanwhile, had transitioned into refining his shadow techniques, working through new angles and adjustments under Asuma's watchful eye. He grumbled through most of it, but Ren had noticed the way his eyes flicked to the battlefield constantly, taking in everything—always analyzing, always learning.

Asuma clapped his hands together. "Alright, that's enough for today. Good work, all of you."

Shikamaru flopped onto the ground immediately, arms spread. "Finally."

Ino let out an exaggerated breath, stretching. "I swear, Asuma, you've been going harder on us ever since the exams ended."

"You're stronger now," Asuma said simply, smirking. "That means I expect more."

Ren let out a quiet chuckle, brushing sweat from his forehead. He had trained hard before, but this kind of structured, team-focused training was new to him. There was a rhythm between Shikamaru and Ino that he was still struggling to match, but for the first time, he felt like he was starting to belong.

Asuma eyed them all before grinning. "Alright, since I've worked you all to the bone today, how about we grab some food? My treat."

Shikamaru let out a half-hearted groan but didn't protest.

Ino perked up instantly. "Now that's a plan I can get behind!"

Ren blinked, caught off guard. Eating out with his team…? He hesitated, but Ino had already grabbed his wrist, dragging him along before he could think too much about it.

"Come on, new guy," she said. "You earned it."

Ren let himself be pulled along, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Asuma led them through the streets, the village glowing softly in the early evening light. The day had been long, and they were all sore and tired—but there was a warmth between them now, an ease that hadn't been there before.

For the first time since joining Team Ten, Ren felt like he was part of something.

And for tonight, that was enough.

.

.

The Hokage's office was quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper as Tsunade flipped through a report. The air smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and something medicinal—perhaps a salve she had been working on earlier.

Team 10 stood in front of her desk, waiting. Asuma leaned against the wall beside them, his usual easygoing demeanor in place, but his sharp eyes flicked briefly over his students.

Tsunade finally set the papers down and crossed her arms. "It's been two weeks since your team started working together. I'd say it's time to move beyond D-rank missions."

At that, Ino brightened. "Thank you! I swear, if I had to chase one more chicken—"

"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I figured this was coming."

Ren remained silent, but his heartbeat picked up slightly. This was it. His first real mission.

Tsunade tapped a finger against the desk. "While D-rank missions serve their purpose, you were a functioning squad even before adding a new member. Now that you've had time to adjust, I'm assigning you something more suited to your abilities. This will be a C-rank mission."

Ino grinned, already eager. Shikamaru sighed, though there was a glint of interest in his otherwise tired eyes.

Ren exhaled slowly. This was what he had trained for. What he wanted. But as Tsunade continued, something about her tone made the anticipation in his stomach twist into something heavier.

"You'll head out in the direction of Kusagakure. but you won't be traveling all the way there," she clarified, her sharp gaze flicking toward Ren for just a fraction of a second before moving on. "Given the current political tension between the Grass Village and certain former clan of theirs, it's best to avoid crossing the border unnecessarily. However, your mission will take you to a region close to it."

Ren's fingers curled slightly. Close. Not home, but near enough that the air would carry the familiar scent of damp moss and winding rivers.

He swallowed hard.

Asuma's gaze flicked toward him briefly, but he said nothing.

Tsunade continued. "Your objective is to retrieve a rare flower called the Moonlight Bloom. It only grows deep in the forest and is a key ingredient for an antidote I'm developing."

Ino raised an eyebrow. "An antidote for what?"

Tsunade exhaled sharply. "The Sound Four left behind a mess—one I'm still cleaning up. We've had shinobi returning from missions showing signs of residual toxins in their systems, likely from lingering traps set during Orochimaru's movements. I need this antidote before we start seeing serious casualties."

Shikamaru's expression darkened at the mention of the Sound Four. The failed retrieval mission was still fresh.

Ren's fingers twitched at his sides.

Tsunade laced her fingers together, watching the three genin with a measured gaze. "Your team was chosen for a reason. The mission requires a balance of strategy, adaptability, and environmental awareness—qualities that Team 10 has already demonstrated."

She turned to Shikamaru first. "Your tactical mind will be essential. The terrain is unpredictable, and you'll need to adjust your approach accordingly. We can't afford any careless mistakes."

Shikamaru gave a slow nod, already piecing together the potential risks.

Tsunade's attention shifted to Ino. "Your clan's sensory abilities will be important, but your knowledge of plants is just as valuable. You've worked in your family's shop long enough to recognize rare herbs and their uses, which means you can assist in identifying the Moonlight Bloom once you reach the forest."

Ino smirked, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. "Finally, someone appreciates my expertise."

Tsunade didn't miss a beat. "Don't get cocky. You're dealing with lethal flora, not a flower arrangement."

Ino's smirk faltered slightly.

Finally, Tsunade's gaze landed on Ren.

"You have an in-depth knowledge of toxic plant life, which will be invaluable for navigating the Forest of Dying Blossoms. Most shinobi wouldn't even recognize what's safe to touch, let alone what can kill them instantly. You do."

Ren's lips parted slightly. The Forest of Dying Blossoms… that name made his chest feel tight.

That forest… his clan had records about it, studies on the plant life, notes on which poisons could be harvested and which would kill instantly.

This wasn't just any mission.

It was a test.

He glanced at Asuma, but their sensei remained silent, letting the Hokage explain.

Tsunade folded her arms. "The mission is ranked C-level because, on paper, your task is simple: locate and retrieve the flower. You aren't being sent to fight enemy shinobi or infiltrate a hostile stronghold. That said, don't underestimate the dangers. The environment itself is your biggest threat, and if something does go wrong, you'll be a long way from immediate backup."

Shikamaru sighed. "So, basically, it's a higher-risk mission disguised as a C-rank."

Tsunade smirked. "Pretty much."

She leaned back. "You leave in two days. Use the time wisely to prepare. Dismissed."

Asuma pushed off the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he gestured for the team to follow him out.

Ren swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

He had wanted his first real mission.

Now, he wasn't sure if he was ready for where it would take him.

.

.

The warm scent of simmering broth and grilled fish filled the air as Ren sat at the dinner table with his family. The soft glow of lantern light flickered against the wooden walls of their home, casting long shadows as his mother set down a fresh serving of rice.

Suzuna smiled as she took her seat. "Eat plenty, both of you. It'll be a while before you have a proper meal again."

Ren nodded, though he wasn't sure if it was the food or the knot in his stomach keeping his appetite at bay. The mission occupied his thoughts—the looming presence of the Forest of Dying Blossoms, the potential dangers, the fact that he would be so close to Kusagakure.

Across from him, Arato stretched his arms behind his head, grinning. "Not bad, huh? Your first C-rank mission already. Took me longer to get one when I was a genin."

"You also didn't have two former teammates who almost made chunin," Ren pointed out.

"True," Arato admitted with a smirk. "I guess you lucked out getting assigned to the brain trust of Team 10."

Suzuna sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, I wish they had given you more time before sending you out. You've only just gotten used to working with your team, and now they're sending you straight into unknown terrain?"

Ren fidgeted with his chopsticks. "It's just a retrieval mission. No enemy shinobi, no direct combat, just plants and some animals."

Arato snorted. "Just plants and animals, huh? You're going into one of the most notoriously dangerous forests in the region, and that's your takeaway?"

Ren shot him a look. "It's not like I don't know how to handle it."

Arato held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. But don't let your knowledge make you overconfident. Nature doesn't care how much you've studied it."

Suzuna glanced between them before sighing softly. "Ren, just promise me you'll be careful."

Ren hesitated, then nodded.

She turned to Arato next. "And you—when exactly is your next mission?"

"Four days from now," Arato said, leaning back. "It's just an escort mission for a merchant caravan heading toward the border of the Land of Fire. Pretty routine."

Suzuna's brow furrowed. "And yet it's a chunin assignment."

Arato smirked. "Well, I am a chunin now. It's some rich merchant paying extra from what I understand"

Ren blinked. "So they actually gave you the rank?"

"Yep." Arato tapped his forehead protector. "Took some back and forth, but they decided I proved myself during the retrieval mission—though they slapped a few 'provisions' on my promotion."

Ren frowned. "Like what?"

Arato shrugged. "Nothing major. I have to take a few additional leadership assessments before I can officially lead a squad, and my missions are being 'monitored for performance' for a while. Basically, I'm still under review, but I got the title."

Ren chewed over that information. Chunin. It felt strange—his brother had reached that next step while he was still just starting as a genin. But if things went well, maybe one day he'd catch up.

Suzuna exhaled softly. "At least you'll both be in capable teams. That's some comfort."

Arato grinned. "Aw, worried about us, Mom?"

She shot him a sharp look. "Of course, I'm worried. I'm your mother."

Arato chuckled but didn't argue.

The conversation continued over the rest of dinner, with Arato offering advice on traveling in unknown territory and Suzuna reminding Ren to pack extra supplies. Despite their usual banter, there was a quiet weight to the meal—a mutual understanding that, as of tomorrow, they'd both be moving forward in their lives as shinobi.

For Ren, that realization sat heavy on his shoulders.

Tomorrow, he would take his first real step outside Konoha.

And it would take him closer to the past he had always avoided.

.

.

The gates of Konohagakure stood tall against the morning light, their massive wooden frame slightly ajar as the early patrols moved in and out. The usual bustle of the village was already picking up behind them, but beyond the gates lay something entirely different—the vast expanse of the Land of Fire's wilderness.

Ren adjusted the straps of his backpack, his fingers brushing against the vials of poison carefully tucked inside his pouch. His mind ran through everything he knew about their destination.

The Forest of Dying Blossoms. A place of cautionary tales and old superstitions, a stretch of land where plants grew too wild, too toxic, twisting together in a way that even seasoned herbalists feared to tread. The Midnight Bloom—or Tsukiyo Bloom, as it was called in his clan texts—was just one of many lethal specimens within its depths.

Ren had studied it before, in old clan records and through fragmented knowledge passed down through his mother's teachings. The flower only bloomed under precise conditions—low moonlight, high humidity, and the presence of decaying organic material in the soil. That last part made sense, given the forest's reputation. It was a place where nature itself had no mercy, a battleground where only the strongest flora thrived.

And now, they were heading straight for it.

He exhaled slowly. This was fine. He was prepared.

Nearby, Ino groaned, adjusting her pack. "I still can't believe we're finally out of those stupid D-ranks. If I had to pull one more weed, I think I'd have lost it."

Shikamaru yawned, stretching. "Yeah, yeah. But I wouldn't mind another week of easy pay before heading into a poisonous death forest."

"Lazy." Ino nudged him with her elbow.

"Realist," Shikamaru countered.

Asuma chuckled as he walked ahead of them, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. "You'll be fine. The mission is straightforward—get in, grab the flower, get out. We're not here to play hero, just to make sure everything goes smoothly."

As they approached the gate, two shinobi stood guard, leaning casually against the wooden frame. One of them, Kotetsu Hagane, eyed their group with mild interest. "Oh? Team 10 finally heading out on a real mission?"

His partner, Izumo Kamizuki, smirked. "Try not to get lost out there, yeah?"

Asuma grinned. "You two sound like you doubt us."

"Doubt you?" Kotetsu scoffed. "Never. Doubt the kids? Maybe."

"Hey!" Ino shot him a glare.

Izumo chuckled. "Don't take it personally, it's just tradition to tease the fresh genin when they head out on their first C-rank."

Ren remained quiet, watching the exchange. He wasn't exactly nervous, but there was a certain weight to stepping beyond the village walls as a true shinobi. Missions within Konoha had been safe—controlled, familiar. But beyond the gates, the world wasn't as predictable.

Asuma waved lazily. "We'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't bring back anything poisonous," Kotetsu muttered.

"Too late for that," Shikamaru said under his breath, glancing at Ren.

Ren gave him a flat look.

With one last nod from the guards, the group stepped beyond the gates, the dirt path stretching out before them, leading them toward the border of the Land of Fire and into unknown territory.

Their mission had officially begun.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 9: Hunted

The deeper they walked into the jungle, the more oppressive the air became.

At first, the shift was subtle—just a slight drop in temperature, a gradual thickening of the underbrush. The trees loomed taller, their gnarled roots twisting like grasping fingers through the damp earth. Shadows stretched unnaturally long beneath the canopy, the golden afternoon light quickly swallowed by layers of dense foliage.

Ino exhaled through her nose, her fingers brushing against a cluster of broad, waxy leaves as she passed. They glistened slightly, even though there hadn't been any recent rainfall. Her brows furrowed. Something about them felt... off. Not outright wrong, but just different enough to set her instincts on edge.

She glanced at Ren, who was walking slightly ahead, his violet eyes scanning their surroundings with an intensity she wasn't used to seeing from him. He wasn't just looking—he was analyzing.

"These plants aren't native," Ino said finally, keeping her voice low. "At least, not to the kind of forests we're used to in the Land of Fire."

Ren nodded, not looking at her. "They're not. But I've seen some of them before… in clan records."

That made her pause. "Wait, you've never actually been here?"

Ren hesitated. He knew how that sounded—he had been guiding them confidently, identifying toxic plants and warning them about unstable footing, yet he hadn't once claimed familiarity with this particular region. "No," he admitted, adjusting the straps of his pack. "The texts in my clan's archives cover a lot of places outside Konoha. My family used to trade knowledge of poisons and antidotes across different regions. This forest is... infamous in some of those records."

That didn't exactly make her feel better.

Ahead of them, Asuma led the group with his usual relaxed gait, though his sharp eyes missed nothing. Shikamaru trailed behind, his hands in his pockets, but Ino noticed that he kept glancing over his shoulder every so often.

Like he could feel it too.

The weight of unseen eyes.

A rustling noise snapped Ino's attention to the side. She whipped around, kunai already in hand, only to see a cluster of vines swaying gently as if disturbed by a passing breeze. But there was no breeze. The air was still, thick with the scent of damp earth and vegetation.

Ren was watching too. "...That wasn't the wind," he muttered.

Shikamaru sighed. "Great. First real mission, and the forest is already messing with us."

Asuma stopped at a clearing up ahead, raising a hand for them to pause. "We'll take a short break," he said, his tone casual but firm. "Drink some water, check your gear. No sense pushing through if you're not sharp."

Ren took the chance to kneel down, running his fingers over the dark soil. It was richer than it should've been, almost unnaturally fertile. In some areas, the roots of trees pulsed slightly, as though something beneath was feeding them more than just nutrients.

This place is alive in ways it shouldn't be.

He didn't like it.

And if the records were right, the deeper they went, the worse it would get.

The break didn't last long. Asuma kept things moving at a steady but cautious pace, leading the team further into the jungle's grasp. The uneven terrain forced them to be mindful of their footing, roots and thick foliage turning what should have been a simple trek into a slow, deliberate march.

"What's with this place?" Ino muttered, ducking under a hanging cluster of vines. "It's like it doesn't want us here."

Shikamaru exhaled through his nose. "I mean, technically, no place wants us there, Ino. It's a jungle, not an inn."

Ino shot him a glare. "You know what I mean."

Ren, walking just ahead of them, ran his fingers lightly along the bark of a tree, eyes narrowing at the way the surface seemed almost waxy. "She's not wrong," he murmured. "The forest is... reacting to us. The plants are strange, too resilient. And the way the roots are layered—there's a pattern to it. Like they're growing around something."

Shikamaru gave him a sidelong glance. "You think someone's been maintaining this place?"

Ren hesitated. "Not recently. But at some point... maybe."

Asuma hummed from the front. "Good instincts, all of you. Keep that kind of thinking up. Observation is the difference between a mission being a success or turning into a mess."

Ino stepped over a fallen log and huffed. "Still, this is way different than I expected. I thought a C-rank mission meant some danger, but this is feeling more and more like a death trap."

Shikamaru stuffed his hands in his pockets. "That's because it is a death trap. We're only calling this a C-rank because there aren't enemy ninja involved. The environment itself is the problem."

Ren nodded absently, his thoughts turning inward. Even knowing about the forest from records, being in it was different. The sheer scale of it, the way the sounds of birds and insects didn't quite feel natural—it was unsettling in ways he hadn't fully prepared for.

More than that, though, was the way he still felt like an outsider in his own team.

Shikamaru and Ino had an easy way of moving together, bickering in a way that was more comfortable than it was hostile. Asuma balanced them out, offering guidance when needed but otherwise letting them find their own rhythm.

Ren wasn't sure if he fit into that rhythm yet.

They wanted him to. He could tell. Ino made a point to talk to him more, and Shikamaru always threw casual observations his way, as if inviting him into the thought process. Even Asuma had taken extra time during training to make sure he understood things in a practical way, rather than just theory.

But after spending most of his life within his clan's compound, isolated in ways even he hadn't realized before, integration wasn't instant. He was still adjusting.

A rustling noise up ahead made everyone freeze.

Asuma lifted a hand. "Hold."

The team stilled, muscles tensing as they listened. The rustling was steady, moving toward them in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Not wind. Not some small animal.

His pulse quickened. Through the thick underbrush, something shifted—too large for a normal predator, moving with slow, deliberate intent. Then, faintly, twin pinpricks of dim light reflected from the undergrowth.

Eyes. Watching. Waiting.

Then—movement.

The underbrush exploded as something lunged forward. No warning growl, no sound—just raw speed.

"Asuma-sensei—!"

Asuma was already moving. His trench knives flashed, intercepting the first attacker mid-air. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, the sheer force of the beast's lunge nearly knocking him off balance. The creature skidded back, crouching low, its lips peeling back in a silent snarl.

It looked like a wolf. Almost.

Its limbs were too long, joints bending at unnatural angles, and its skin—patchy fur barely hiding sinewy muscle beneath—looked wrong. When it exhaled, the sound was wet and rattling, like its lungs weren't working properly.

Then the rest of the pack stepped forward.

Three more. Too many for a normal wolf pack. Too calculated. Too patient.

Shikamaru's fingers twitched at his side, already analyzing. "That's not a wolf you read about in your texts, is it?"

"No," Ren murmured. "And it's not alone."

The largest beast's eyes flickered—then it lunged again.

"Asuma—!"

Ren moved without thinking, his senbon already in hand. He snapped his wrist, sending two needles straight for the wolf's exposed shoulder. The senbon struck home, sinking into flesh—and for a moment, the beast faltered. Its muscles twitched, a visible shudder rippling through its frame.

Then, just as quickly, it snarled and kept moving.

Ren's stomach twisted. It should have slowed down more.

"Great, they resist poison," he muttered. "That's not terrifying at all."

"Adapt," Asuma barked, knocking another lunging wolf aside. "Ino, Shikamaru, get your bearings!"

Shikamaru was already in motion. His shadow lashed out across the ground, stretching toward the largest beast. It moved erratically, but he caught it—just barely. Its unnatural frame shuddered, muscles locking as his jutsu took hold.

"Got one," he gritted out. "Not sure how long I can hold it."

"Then let's make it count!"

Ino surged forward, fingers flashing through seals. Chakra pulsed outward, latching onto the trapped wolf's mind. The effect wasn't perfect—it thrashed violently, resisting—but it was enough.

The beast turned on its pack.

Its jaws snapped onto the nearest wolf's leg, tearing into sinew. The other howled, wrenching free, but the moment of chaos gave Team 10 the opening they needed.

Ren moved.

He darted around the battlefield, wire glinting in his hands. A trap. His mind worked fast, calculating angles—trees close enough, movement patterns erratic but predictable.

One wolf lunged.

Now.

Ren's hands flicked. The wire snapped tight between two trees just as the beast crossed the threshold. The thin steel caught its limbs mid-motion, yanking them out from under it. It hit the ground hard, snarling as it thrashed against the trap.

"Not bad, Ren!" Ino called, slashing at another wolf.

Another lunge. Ren twisted just in time to avoid a clawed swipe, his heart hammering. They weren't just attacking—they were learning.

Then, behind him—movement.

Too close.

A blur of motion, a glint of bared teeth—

"Ren, down!"

Asuma's voice was sharp. Ren dropped instinctively.

A trench knife whistled through the air, embedding itself into the lunging wolf's side. Chakra burned along the blade's edge, sending a pulse of energy through the creature's body. It convulsed violently before crumpling.

Asuma didn't hesitate. He wrenched the knife free and turned. "We're not here to fight them to the death. Move!"

Ren pushed himself up, breath ragged. "We're not losing them!"

"You're right," Shikamaru muttered grimly. "They're not losing their prey."

They ran.

.

.

Branches tore at their clothes, the jungle blurring past as the pounding footsteps behind them never wavered.

The beasts didn't give up.

They didn't tire.

They just kept coming.

Then, finally, the jungle began to change.

The thick vines twisted in unnatural shapes, forming barriers too dense to push through. The wolves hesitated, their pursuit slowing—almost as if something deeper in the forest was warning them away.

Only when the last howls faded did Asuma finally motion for them to stop.

Panting, Ren risked a glance back.

Twin glowing eyes still watched from the darkness. Waiting.

The wolves didn't chase them.

Not past the trees.

Ren's breath came fast, ragged. His pulse still hammered from the fight, but he forced himself to slow it down. To listen.

The jungle had changed.

The foliage was thicker here, the trees gnarled and unnatural, but that wasn't what stopped the wolves. They had slowed at the edge of the clearing, hackles raised, but none had stepped forward. They were afraid.

And that made Ren's skin crawl.

Shikamaru exhaled through his nose, rubbing his shoulder as he took in the sudden stop. "I don't like this."

"No kidding." Ino turned back, eyeing the wolves with wary curiosity. "They were hunting us. Now they won't set foot here?"

"They know something we don't," Asuma muttered. His fingers flexed slightly around his trench knives before he relaxed, scanning their surroundings. "Which means we stay sharp."

The wolves weren't the only thing different here.

The jungle had gone eerily silent.

Not in the natural way, where dusk crept in and wildlife settled. No—this was unnatural, a hush that seemed to press against their ears, the absence of even the faintest rustling of leaves or chirping insects. Ren felt the fine hairs on his arms rise.

His gut twisted. Something was wrong.

The air felt heavier here, the humidity thick and cloying. Leaves sagged under unseen weight, and the deeper they ventured, the darker the canopy became. Too dark, too soon. Sunlight struggled to pierce the foliage, despite the time of day.

"Okay, now I really don't like this," Ino muttered, her voice lower than before.

Shikamaru exhaled sharply through his nose, gaze flicking around.

The wolves that had stopped at the treeline were still watching them, their glowing eyes visible through the tangled undergrowth. Their hackles had risen, but not in preparation to attack. They were wary.

Asuma took a slow, measured step forward, gaze shifting past the wolves to what lay beyond. The ground beneath them had changed. It was no longer packed dirt or dense jungle underbrush but stone—old and cracked, smothered beneath thick vines that curled unnaturally, winding around like skeletal fingers gripping a long-forgotten corpse.

And then they saw it.

Half-buried beneath the overgrowth stood the crumbling remains of a structure. Time had tried to reclaim it, but the jungle had failed to swallow it completely. The walls were cracked, but not destroyed. The air around it was different—colder, heavier.

"That's not something you see every day," Asuma muttered.

Shikamaru's brow furrowed. "Who the hell builds something like this out here?"

"Someone who doesn't want to be found," Ren murmured.

His eyes traced the thick vines coiling around the entrance. Not just overgrown foliage—these vines had direction. As if something had been guiding them.

Ino shuddered beside him. "I hate this. I hate this. And I swear if this turns into some horror story where we all die one by one—"

"Then don't be the first one to die," Shikamaru deadpanned.

Before she could respond, the ground beneath them shifted.

The air seemed to suck inward.

Then—

The floor gave way.

.

.

The world blurred. The rush of stone, dust, the weightless moment before impact—

Ren hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through his bones. Dust exploded around him, thick and choking, cutting off his vision as he forced himself to his knees.

Pain pulsed through his limbs, but nothing felt broken.

A groan sounded nearby. "Ugh… whats with our luck today?"

Ren coughed, waving dust from his face. "Ino?"

She sat a few meters away, rubbing her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm here. Pretty sure I just shaved a few years off my life." Her gaze flicked around, sharp and alert. "Where the hell are we?"

Ren pushed himself to his feet, eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings. The walls were wrong—too smooth for natural stone, unnaturally intact despite the decay. The air smelled of damp earth, rusted metal, and something else. Something acrid.

Above them, Shikamaru peered over the edge of the collapse, his voice tight. "You two okay?"

"Define okay," Ino snapped. "We just fell into a—what is this, a cave? A crypt? A murder-dungeon?"

Ren's stomach twisted as he used some glowsticks to illuminate their surroundings.

"A lab."

Silence.

Shikamaru's expression darkened. "That's worse."

Asuma stepped forward, scanning the collapse. "The ground up here is unstable. Trying to climb out might bring more down. You two stay put while we find another way."

Ren wasn't listening anymore. His fingers ghosted over the symbols carved into the stone beneath layers of dust.

Not from any known village.

Not recent.

Before he could process it further, something clattered deeper inside the ruins.

Both he and Ino stiffened.

They weren't alone.

.

.

Ren and Ino advanced cautiously through the darkened passage, their glowsticks casting pale light against the damp stone. Dust clung to the air, disturbed by their fall and hanging thick enough to dull their senses.

The walls here were different from the rough stone of the collapse. Large sections of the corridor had been reinforced with metal plating, corroded with age but still recognizable beneath the grime. This hadn't been a natural cave—it was built to contain something.

Ino ran her fingers along the nearest surface, her lips pressing into a thin line. "This wasn't just some hideout. Whoever made this put in effort to make it last."

Ren nodded, studying the floor. Deep grooves marked the ground—not from erosion, but from something heavy being dragged. His mind worked through the implications, but no answer settled comfortably.

Ahead, the corridor split into two paths. The left descended into further darkness, while the right led to what looked like a reinforced security door, half-buried under debris.

Ino hesitated. "You think there's another way up through there?"

Ren examined the door. Heavy steel, reinforced edges, no visible handle. It hadn't been forced open—it had been sealed from the other side.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But we don't have the tools unless we want to risk everything collapsing on us."

"Then let's just push onwards through the tunnel," Ino said, her face a bit paler than usual.

.

.

Shikamaru adjusted his flak jacket, exhaling slowly as he crouched near the edge of the collapse. The stone was loose, the entire section unstable. If they tried to pull Ren and Ino out the way they came, there was a good chance the rest of the floor would cave in with them.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Tch. What a pain."

Shikamaru stood, scanning the overgrown structures ahead. The jungle had done its best to reclaim them, but beneath the vines and rot, the facility still stood. Unlike the crumbling outer walls, some sections remained intact, untouched by time.

He pointed toward a half-buried corridor. "That section's different. If this place is as big as it seems, there's a good chance the underground connects."

Asuma nodded. "Alright, let's move."

They fell into step, navigating the ruins with careful efficiency. Asuma took the lead, keeping an eye on their surroundings, while Shikamaru focused on the layout. There was a pattern here—hallways that bent at unnatural angles, passages sealed off like someone had tried to erase them from memory.

At some point, this place had been hidden on purpose.

The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. Not just in the physical sense, but oppressive, suffocating. The way it clung to their skin made Shikamaru uneasy.

"Sense anything off?" Asuma asked, his tone casual, but there was a weight behind the words.

Shikamaru clicked his tongue. "Everything."

Still, nothing had attacked them. No threats, no movement.

Just the growing certainty that they weren't the first ones to walk these halls in a long time.

.

.

Ren adjusted his grip on the glowstick, its pale green light casting shifting shadows against the damp walls. The tunnel ahead stretched into darkness, lined with corroded pipes that occasionally dripped water onto the stone floor. The air was thick—not just with dust, but with something old, something stagnant.

Ino let out a slow breath. "I hate this silence."

Ren nodded, his voice low. "It feels… wrong. Like this place isn't supposed to be empty."

Ino frowned, trailing a hand along the wall as they walked. Her fingers brushed against deep scratches in the metal. Not rust, not natural decay—marks left by something desperate.

She pulled her hand back. "We're walking through someone's leftovers."

Ren's grip tightened on the glowstick. He didn't have an answer for that

.

.

Shikamaru and Asuma reached a sealed metal door, half-hidden beneath a collapsed section of wall. Unlike the rest of the ruins, this door was still intact, the reinforced steel barely corroded.

Asuma ran a hand over it, feeling the structure. "Someone didn't want people getting through here."

Shikamaru crouched, brushing dirt from the lower section. His fingers found a faint groove—almost mechanical. He traced the shape, eyes narrowing.

"This isn't just a door," he muttered. "It's a security gate."

Asuma exhaled. "Think it still works?"

Before Shikamaru could answer, a low mechanical hum filled the air.

They both tensed.

A light flickered on above them.

Shikamaru's stomach twisted. "Something just activated."

He barely had time to react before the door in front of them unlocked with a sharp click.

Not from anything they did.

The facility had made the choice for them.

Asuma's fingers twitched around his trench knives. "Well. That's inviting."

Shikamaru wasn't sure if he hated this place more now, or before it started making decisions.

Either way, they were going inside.

.

.

Their footsteps echoed as they moved deeper. The tunnel wasn't straight—it curved slightly, just enough to give the unsettling illusion that something might be waiting just out of sight.

Drip.

Ino stiffened. "Did you hear that?"

Ren stopped. The sound came again—a slow, rhythmic drop of liquid hitting stone.

Drip.

He lifted his glowstick higher, revealing a rusted grate overhead. The source of the sound was just beyond it, unseen in the darkness above.

Ino's shoulders tensed. "Tell me that's just water."

Ren didn't answer.

They kept moving.

.

.

Asuma and Shikamaru pushed silently onwards through the new corridor. Shikamaru pressed a hand against the reinforced metal wall, frowning at the faint vibration beneath his fingertips. Something was still running inside the structure, not fully alive, but not entirely dead either—like an old body on the verge of decay, only kept functioning by failing machinery.

Asuma took a slow drag from his cigarette before letting the ember burn out. He flicked it away, watching as the dim light briefly illuminated the floor. No dust. No debris. Unlike the ruined sections outside, this part of the lab had been kept clean.

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. "Something's or someone has been through here recently."

Asuma nodded. "Yeah. Question is, what or who?"

They moved cautiously, Asuma taking the lead with his trench knives loosely gripped, Shikamaru a step behind, mapping the corridors in his mind. The layout was tight—narrow hallways flanked by metal-lined walls, some still intact, others dented and warped by time. At some point, something powerful had forced its way through.

A low hiss sounded up ahead. Not the kind of hiss a person made, but the pressurized release of old gas. A door, partially ajar, vented a thin stream of mist into the air.

Asuma raised a hand, signaling Shikamaru to stop.

They listened.

No movement. No immediate threat.

Still, the hairs on the back of Shikamaru's neck refused to settle.

Asuma nudged the door open with his boot. The hinges protested with a metallic groan, revealing a small security room.

Shikamaru stepped inside first, eyes scanning the space. The room had been built to monitor the facility, a control station with old, inactive monitors lining the walls. Most were shattered, their glass screens cracked and long dead, but one…

One was still on.

A faint, erratic green glow pulsed from the sole surviving console. The screen flickered, static breaking apart the image every few seconds.

Shikamaru leaned closer.

"…That's a live feed," he murmured.

Asuma came up beside him. The image was grainy, but unmistakable—a corridor, dimly lit, with two figures moving cautiously through it.

Ren and Ino.

Shikamaru's stomach twisted. "Someone's monitoring us."

He reached for the keyboard, fingers moving over the worn keys. Most of the system was fried, but he could still pull basic logs. Manual reboots. Override attempts. Power fluctuations. The facility had been abandoned for decades, but something had forced it back to life.

Asuma exhaled. "We're not the only ones in here."

Shikamaru tapped a few more keys, trying to bring up different camera angles, but the system fought him. Several feeds were outright corrupted, others cut off just as he switched to them.

"This isn't natural degradation," he muttered. "Someone tampered with it."

A new image flashed across the screen—a hallway they hadn't reached yet.

Then the feed cut out.

The screen went black.

The control panel let out a single low beep.

Shikamaru tensed. Asuma shifted his stance.

Then—another door in the hallway outside slowly unlocked with a quiet click.

Neither of them moved at first. The facility had just made a choice for them.

Asuma exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Guess that's our invitation."

Shikamaru didn't like this.

Didn't like it at all.

But they had no other way forward.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 10: Echos of the Forgotten

The tunnels stretched endlessly ahead, their glowsticks casting thin slivers of greenish light along the walls. The air was damp, thick with the scent of old chemicals and decay. Every breath carried the taste of something stale, something that had been locked away for too long.

Ren walked a step ahead, his fingers lightly trailing along the uneven stone, searching for any clue about where they were—or where they needed to go. He'd read about places like this in his clan's old texts: buried laboratories, forgotten experiments, things meant to remain unseen. But reading about them was one thing. Walking through one was another.

"You think we're under the main complex now?" Ino asked, her voice quieter than usual.

Ren nodded. "Seems like it. These tunnels must have connected to the upper floors before the collapse." He gestured toward the faint remnants of old wiring along the ceiling, corroded but still in place. "Whoever built this, they didn't want people finding it."

Ino exhaled sharply. "Yeah, well. That worked out great."

.

.

Deeper within the ruins, past the collapsed tunnels and flickering torches, he worked.

His fingers moved delicately over the fragile remains of old research notes, lips pursed in silent thought. Much of it was damaged, beyond recovery. But it didn't matter.

He remembered.

Even after all these years, after the failure, the disgrace, and the abandonment… he remembered everything his master had taught him.

Orochimaru had left. The lab had been forsaken. But he?

He had remained.

He had continued the work.

His fingers trailed along a row of glass incubation pods—some shattered, some still sealed. Within the murky liquid of the largest, something twitched.

A slow, shuddering breath left him. It was almost ready.

The life he had nurtured. The perfection he had sought. The key to his return to Orochimaru's side.

And now… intruders.

His lips curled in distaste. They would interfere. Ruin everything.

His fingers clenched.

He would not let them.

Not when he was so close.

.

.

The tunnel branched ahead—two paths, equally dark and uninviting. The left sloped downward, disappearing into thick shadows. The right was lined with reinforced metal panels, some warped and bent, as if something had tried to force its way out.

Ren studied both options, his expression unreadable. "Thoughts?"

Ino exhaled sharply. "Yeah. I think I hate both."

She shifted her weight, glancing at the warped panels. Even under the dim glowstick light, she could make out faint claw marks. Whatever had been inside… it had struggled.

"We should go right," Ren said, already stepping forward. "That section looks more controlled. If there's a way out, it'll be through there."

Ino hesitated before following. "Controlled isn't exactly reassuring," she muttered.

The corridor stretched ahead, curving slightly before opening into a larger chamber. The walls here were lined with containment units—some shattered, others intact but clouded with condensation and age. The sight sent a shiver through her spine.

She stepped closer to one of the glass panels, wiping away the dust with the back of her glove. The interior was empty. But something had been inside.

Ren moved toward a nearby console, its screen cracked but still faintly glowing. He tapped a few buttons, and distorted text flickered across the interface. Most of it was unreadable, but one word stood out, clear despite the corruption:

TEST SUBJECTS

Ino pulled back. "Yeah, no. I don't like that."

Ren barely had time to respond before a sharp, mechanical hiss echoed through the room.

The sound of pressurized locks disengaging.

Ren barely had time to react before a steel shutter slammed down between him and Ino.

The impact sent a wave of dust billowing into the air. Reinforced glass, thick and murky with age, snapped into place between them. The sudden separation was so fast, so precise, that it took a full second for the reality to set in.

Ren turned sharply, pressing a hand against the cold glass. "Ino?"

Ino's wide eyes met his through the barrier. She tried to move back toward him, but the path was sealed.

"What the hell?!" She pounded a fist against the reinforced panel. "Ren! Are you—can you get out?"

Ren stepped back, scanning the edges of the room. No doors. No alternate exits. Just the single containment chamber he was now trapped in.

Ino cursed under her breath, turning sharply to the control panel on her side of the room. She brushed dust from its surface, eyes darting over the flickering interface. The commands were in a language she couldn't fully read, but the blinking emergency symbols were clear enough.

This was a lockdown.

Something had triggered it.

Something had been designed to trap him inside.

Then the lights shifted.

From dull white—
To an eerie, pulsing red.

Ren didn't need to be told what that meant.

Behind him, liquid drained from the last active containment pod.

.

.

A deep gurgling exhale filled the space behind him.

Ren turned slowly, instinct coiling like a vice around his chest.

The glass chamber at the far end of the room was no longer full. The murky suspension fluid, which had hidden its contents, was gone. What remained was a figure slumped against the side of the pod, breathing.

Too slow. Too unnatural.

Ren's mind sharpened. No sudden movements. No wasted energy. He scanned the figure—humanoid, but wrong. Pale, slick skin marred by surgical scars, limbs too long, spine curled in a way that suggested it hadn't stood upright in a long time.

The air carried an acidic stench, like chemicals and old blood.

Then—it moved.

A slow twitch of its fingers, then a twitch in the jaw—its head rolled unnaturally to one side before snapping up, revealing milky, unfocused eyes.

Ren took a careful step back, kunai slipping into his hand.

"Ren," Ino's voice came through the glass, tense but controlled. "Talk to me."

His pulse pounded in his ears. "It's waking up."

Ino moved frantically across the control panel, trying to override the lockdown, but nothing responded. The systems were locked out from somewhere else.

Ren kept his stance firm as the figure in the chamber let out a wet, rattling breath—a sound that wasn't quite human.

Then, slowly—painfully—it began to rise.

.

.

This hallway was different. Larger, reinforced, its edges lined with old security seals—most torn or inactive, but a few still pulsing faintly with residual chakra.

Shikamaru crouched, running a hand along one of the weakened seals. "This wasn't meant to keep people out." His voice was quieter now. "It was keeping something in."

Asuma glanced at him. "That supposed to make me feel better?"

Shikamaru didn't answer.

Asuma adjusted his grip on his trench knives. Shikamaru stood, exhaling sharply.

"Here we go," he muttered.

The hallway opened up before them, revealing a large circular room.

Monitors lined the far wall, many cracked and useless, but a handful still flickered with grainy, distorted feeds. Some showed empty hallways. Others displayed containment units—some shattered, some intact.

And one screen—the clearest of them all—showed Ren.

Shikamaru's stomach twisted. Ren was trapped behind reinforced glass, alone.

Asuma stepped forward. "That's bad."

Shikamaru didn't waste time agreeing.

He moved toward the terminal, fingers hovering over the controls, but the system fought him. The interface had been manually restricted.

"Can't do much here, we should move forward," he said back to Asuma.

.

.

The air in this place carried something wrong with it. The feeling clung to his skin, a creeping unease that set his instincts on edge.

As they moved deeper into the corridors, footsteps careful but deliberate.

Similar to Ren and Ino's path, theirs was lined with what looked like the remains of failed experiments—desiccated husks, long-rotted organic matter, things that had once been alive but had clearly not belonged in this world.

Asuma's brow furrowed as he examined one of the ruined forms, its shape twisted beyond recognition. "…This isn't normal."

Shikamaru tilted his head, voice dry. "No kidding."

Their path led them to another chamber, this one lined with rusted cages. Some were broken open. Others were still sealed—dark shadows lingering within.

Shikamaru stepped closer to one, peering inside. His stomach twisted.

"…Sensei."

Asuma turned, following his gaze. His expression darkened.

Inside the cage, something shifted.

And then—

It opened its eyes.

A slow, deliberate movement.

Something was still alive down here.

And it was waiting.

.

.

A slow, ragged breathing filled the air.

In the dim lighting, he could make out something. It was human in shape—mostly. But its proportions were wrong.

The limbs were too long, the muscles uneven and unnatural, as if growth had been forced upon them without care for balance.

Pale, stretched skin clung tightly to an emaciated frame, patches of coarse, matted fur sprouting along the spine and forearms. The face was grotesquely distorted—jaw too wide, teeth too large and uneven, eyes sunken yet burning with something primal.

It was watching them.

No… him.

Ino was still looking for a way to open the door back up.

"Ren!"

Her voice snapped his attention back to her. She had scrambled to the barrier, pressing her hands against the glass between them. "The console doesn't work"

Ren nodded stiffly, though his eyes didn't leave the figure. "find another way to open it" he said quietly. "Please, get me out fast."

As if in response, the thing inside the cage let out a deep, rattling breath. Its fingers twitched.

Then, in a voice thick with something between human speech and an animalistic growl, it spoke.

"…Another… experiment…?"

Ren stiffened.

It wasn't just a beast. There was something left inside it—some shreds of intelligence buried beneath the madness.

It turned its head slightly, those unnerving eyes narrowing as they focused on him.

"You smell like them."

Ren felt his blood run cold.

It knew.

Even after all these years, even without ever being here before, the thing could sense something in him. His work with plants, poisons—things that overlapped with the kind of twisted research that must have happened here.

This wasn't just some failed experiment.

It was something that had once been human.

And it had remembered enough to hate him for it.

The creature shifted, testing its restraints. Metal groaned.

Ino pounded against the glass. "Ren, move!"

He did.

Just in time.

With a guttural snarl, the thing lunged.

Ren dodged quickly to the right, the creature following behind but crashing into the wall .

Ren took another step back, eyes darting around for an exit. The containment area had a sealed door and some broken water tanks. The rest of the room was reinforced, built to withstand dangerous subjects.

And that meant he was trapped with it.

Ino was again scanning her own side, looking for another way to help. "Tell me you have a plan," she called.

Ren swallowed hard, gripping the wire and senbon he had managed to grab before the fall. "I'm working on it."

Another growl rumbled from the creature's chest.

Then, slowly—deliberately—it smiled.

"Let's play… boy."

And with a final, earsplitting snap, the rusted bars gave way.

.

.

Shikamaru barely flinched as the creature inside the cage moved.

It was slow, unsteady—yet deeply unsettling. Every motion was jerky, unnatural, as if the body itself was rebelling against its own existence.

"…That's disgusting," Shikamaru muttered, brow furrowing.

Asuma's stance shifted slightly, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. His gaze was unreadable, but his grip on his trench knives tightened.

The thing in the cage twitched again. Its malformed fingers scraped against the bars, long nails clicking against the rusted metal. And then, in a breathy rasp, it laughed.

"Visitors… after so long…"

Shikamaru tensed.

It could talk.

Not just random words, either. It had awareness.

That was never a good sign.

Asuma exhaled, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. His voice was calm, but firm. "Who are you?"

The thing tilted its head at an unnatural angle. "Who?" it echoed. Then, after a pause, "No one… nothing… not anymore…"

The laughter came again, softer this time.

Then, almost conversationally, it added:

"But I remember the pain."

Shikamaru barely suppressed a shudder. He had no doubt that was true.

"And I remember… him."

Asuma's eyes narrowed. "Him?"

The creature grinned, exposing too many teeth.

"He left us... Left us to rot…"

Its fingers curled around the bars, knuckles whitening.

"But I will not be forgotten."

And then, without warning, it slammed its entire body against the cage.

The rusted metal snapped.

Shikamaru moved instantly, shadows lashing out.

But the creature was fast.

The fight had begun.

.

.

Ren's grip tightened around the senbon in his hand. The failed experiment—this thing—was again advancing, its grotesque frame lurching forward with unnerving speed.

It wasn't just attacking.

It was hunting.

Ren moved fast, shifting to a lower stance as he flicked a pair of senbon coated in his clan's fast-acting neurotoxin. The needles flew with pinpoint accuracy, sinking deep into the creature's exposed flesh—just below the collarbone and near the ribs.

A normal human would've collapsed.

A normal animal would've staggered, at least.

This thing?

It barely flinched.

The thing let out a sickly chuckle, rolling its shoulders. Its elongated fingers twitched, then clenched into claws. "That all?"

Ren's breath caught.

His poison wasn't working.

He shifted tactics immediately, weaving a hand seal.

Poison-Nature Style: Venomous Brambles!

Dark green vines erupted from his sleeves, twisting toward the creature like living whips, their thorned tips coated in a paralytic toxin. Ren sent them lashing out, aiming to restrict its movement.

The vines snapped around its arm—only for the creature to tear through them with sheer brute force. The tendrils weren't strong enough.

Ren barely had time to dodge as the creature lunged, swiping at him with inhuman speed. He twisted away, rolling into a defensive crouch as his mind raced.

His poison wasn't as effective. His vines weren't strong enough.

That meant—

Dodge. Adapt. Use the environment.

Ren flicked another senbon, this time aimed at its eye—not to kill, but to disorient. As expected, the creature deflected it, but that moment of distraction gave Ren the split second he needed to reposition.

His hand dipped into his pouch, retrieving a small smoke bomb.

If poison wasn't enough, then he'd use what was.

no clenched her teeth, hands braced against the reinforced glass separating her from Ren. She could see everything.

The way that monster shrugged off Ren's poison.

The way its body moved, more like a predator than a man.

And most importantly—the way Ren was struggling to keep ahead of it.

.

.

She needed to do something.

Turning sharply, she scanned the dimly lit area she. The reinforced walls were thick—too thick to break through with brute force. The door were sealed by an old locking mechanism, half-corroded but still intact.

There had to be another way.

Her father's shop had taught her one thing: every system—every structure—had a weakness.

Find it.

She moved swiftly, searching the edges of the room, running her hands along the walls. It wasn't until she reached the corner of the containment area that she noticed it—an old ventilation shaft, its cover rusted at the edges.

She had no idea where it led.

But it was a way out.

Glancing back at Ren—who was now using smoke and wires to evade the creature—she made a decision.

Hold on just a little longer.

She was going to get them out of here.

.

.

The creature lunged.

Shikamaru didn't hesitate.

His shadow lashed forward, stretching unnaturally across the ground as he took control of the experiment's erratic, lurching movements.

Its grotesque limbs twitched, resisting the technique more than a normal human would. But resistance didn't matter.

It was already too late.

A kunai flicked through the air—Shikamaru's, aimed with calculated precision toward the creature's knee.

It struck home.

The creature staggered, snarl breaking into a warped gasp of pain.

That was when Asuma moved.

Faster than Shikamaru could track, Asuma was there—trench knives igniting with chakra as he slammed them into the beast's exposed neck.

A flash of steel.

A gurgling breath.

And then—

Silence.

The creature slumped forward, body going still.

Shikamaru exhaled, releasing his jutsu. "Hmph. Not bad."

Asuma wiped his blade off on his sleeve, frowning. "I'm not celebrating yet. This wasn't the real fight."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

Asuma's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to a camera in the ceilings corner.

"…Because someone's watching us."

.

.

Behind cracked lenses, a pair of eyes vibrated with fascination.

"Interesting."

The voice was low, rasping—spoken more to the dimly lit room than anyone else.

The monitors before him flickered, distorted footage displaying the separate struggles of the intruders.

The boy. The girl. The Jonin and his strategist.

They were competent.

But competence wasn't enough.

He reached forward, fingers brushing the edge of a cracked glass cylinder—one of many lining the room, filled with cloudy liquid and half-formed things that should not have existed.

"…Not enough," he murmured again.

He leaned forward, watching as the boy in the cage below reached for something in his pouch. A last-ditch attempt.

The scientist smiled.

It was time for the next phase.

.

.

Ren's breath came quick and sharp. His body burned from exertion, and his fingers twitched from the faint effects of his own toxins in the air. Too much exposure. He had countermeasures, but in this enclosed space, even he wasn't immune.

The creature was adapting.

It wasn't just resistant—it was learning.

It no longer fell for his feints. Every dodge became tighter, his wires were ripped apart, and every senbon that landed seemed to only fuel its grotesque glee.

He was running out of space. Running out of time.

A clawed hand slashed at his ribs. He twisted away—but not fast enough.

A burning sting ripped through his side.

His body screamed at him to stop, to pause—but he couldn't.

He couldn't stop.

He couldn't afford to stop.

With gritted teeth, he stumbled backward, using a burst of chakra to propel himself off the wall. He landed, just barely managing to avoid another swipe aimed at his throat.

The thing laughed. A choked, gurgling sound—more animal than human. "Slowing down... Aren't you, boy?"

Ren's hand clenched around his last smoke bomb.

Then, a loud clang.

His eyes flicked to the rooms ceiling.

And there—inside a small ventilation vent—

Ino.

A look of determination in her eyes, hands streching out towards him.

"Move!"

Ren moved.

With the last of his momentum, he jumped, as Ino ripped him into the tiny opening.

The moment he was clear, she dragged them further into the vents—just as the creature lunged, crashing against the reinforced steel opening.

It howled.

Ren staggered, pressing a hand against his bleeding side. He was trembling. He hadn't even realized it.

Then—

A hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Ino's voice was steady. But her eyes—there was something else there. Something she wasn't saying.

Ren swallowed. "Yeah."

A heavy thud rattled the metal walls. The beast slammed itself against the cage, fury shaking through every malformed limb.

Ino exhaled, looking at their work. "Good. Because we are not sticking around for round two."

Ren nodded. He didn't need to be told twice.

They had to move.

.

.

Shikamaru knew they should have reached the lower levels by now.

But they weren't.

Because every time they made progress—every time they got close—

Something changed.

A corridor that should have led downward now twisted in the wrong direction. A locked door—broken moments ago—was suddenly sealed again.

A soft hiss of gas had forced them to detour more than once.

Someone was playing with them.

Asuma's jaw tightened. He wasn't speaking, but Shikamaru knew what that meant. The Jonin's patience was wearing thin.

Another dead end. Another locked path.

.

.

The old monitors flickered, distorted feeds casting shifting images across the darkened room.

The girl was clever. The boy had endurance.

And the Jonin?

He was tired of playing.

A breath. A flicker of motion.

The scientist turned slightly, fingers brushing the control panel.

It's time to stop playing.

His lips curled into something between a smile and a sneer.

"Let's see how well you all survive together."

.

.

Ren leaned against the cold metal wall of their temporary hiding spot, exhaling slowly as he pressed a hand to his side. His fingers came away slick with blood, but the wound wasn't deep—more of a scratch compared to what could have happened. That thing had been too fast, too strong. His poisons barely slowed it down, and his vines lacked the strength to hold something that powerful.

Across from him, Ino dug through her pouch, pulling out a roll of bandages. "Alright, show me."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "You're not a medic."

"And you're not invincible. Now move your damn hand."

Ren considered arguing, but the sharp look in her eyes said she wouldn't take no for an answer. With a sigh, he shifted slightly, allowing her to wrap the bandage around his waist. Her hands moved quickly, surprisingly steady despite the eerie atmosphere pressing down on them.

"We're in a pretty bad spot," she muttered, securing the wrap. "That thing almost killed you."

"Almost." Ren glanced at the reinforced glass separating them from the enraged beast, which slammed against its prison with mindless aggression. "But we won't let it get another chance."

Ino leaned back, crossing her arms. "You did well back there. But you keep relying on poisons that don't hit hard enough. Maybe start thinking about how you can set things up instead of just reacting?"

Ren absorbed the words without immediate response. She wasn't wrong. His combat style had always been built around patience and control, waiting for his poisons to take effect—but against something this relentless, waiting wasn't an option. He needed better setups, smarter traps.

"I'll adjust," he finally said. "We need to find the others."

"No kidding." Ino stood, stretching. "Next time, let's not get separated in a creepy underground nightmare lab."

Ren smirked slightly. "Noted."

The distant sound of shifting metal caught their attention. A door opening somewhere.

Both of them went silent.

They weren't alone down here.

The chamber was vast. Unlike the decayed hallways and abandoned storage areas, this room still functioned.

A massive observation platform overlooked the space, reinforced glass reflecting dim, flickering lights. In the center, a raised surgical table stood like an altar, surrounded by old bloodstains and discarded tools.

Asuma and Shikamaru entered from the opposite end, their sharp eyes scanning the area immediately.

"Ren! Ino!"

Ino exhaled in relief. "Finally."

Ren nodded, his posture still tense. "You guys alright?"

Shikamaru stretched his arms. "A few detours. Nothing we couldn't handle."

Asuma's gaze swept over Ren's bandaged side. "You?"

"Still standing."

"Good. Because we're not done yet."

A slow clap echoed through the chamber.

Ren and Ino's eyes snapped to the observation platform.

There, standing just beyond the reinforced glass, was a scientist by the looks of it.

"Well done," the man mused, voice distorted through the speakers. "I had my doubts about your survival, but you've proven... resilient."

Shikamaru's expression darkened. "Who are you?"

"A forgotten hand of progress." The scientist tilted his head, almost curious. "You children are privileged. You only know the world after its horrors have been cleaned away. But me? I was part of something greater. Something visionary."

Ren's fingers twitched.

He already hated this man.

"And now what?" Asuma asked, tone hard. "You planning to kill us?"

The scientist chuckled. "Oh, no. That would be... a waste. There is still much to be observed and your bodies will be put to good use for the next iteration"

With a slow motion, he pressed something on his control panel.

A low hiss filled the chamber.

Behind them, the door slammed shut.

The scientist smiled. "Let's see how strong you really are."

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 11: Monster and Beasts

The air inside the ruined laboratory was thick with dust and the faint, acrid scent of decay. Dim, flickering lights overhead barely illuminated the vast chamber where Team 10 had finally regrouped. The reinforced glass and metal surroundings gave the space a cold, clinical feel, but the grime coating every surface hinted at years of abandonment.

Ren adjusted his grip on a kunai, his muscles still tense from the earlier encounter. The moment he and Ino had made their way deeper into the structure, Asuma and Shikamaru had found them, emerging from a corridor on the opposite end. Relief was brief—the moment of safety overshadowed by the looming presence of their unseen adversary.

"Took your time," Ino huffed, though her stance relaxed ever so slightly.

"Had to make sure we weren't walking into something worse," Shikamaru replied, eyeing their surroundings. "Looks like we still did."

A soft click echoed from above.

"Ah, at last, the whole team," the voice of their unseen opponent coiled through the air like a whisper behind their ears. "I had hoped you'd make it this far."

A series of metallic hisses followed as vents opened along the walls, releasing cold mist that snaked across the floor. Shadows shifted, moving unnaturally, until they appeared.

From the edges of the room, figures staggered forward—not quite human, not quite animal. Their bodies were grotesque blends of flesh and unnatural grafts, as though someone had stitched together creatures without understanding where one ended and another began. Some had too many limbs, others lacked recognizable faces, and all moved with a jerky, unnatural gait.

Ren inhaled sharply. More experiments.

Asuma stepped forward, his expression darkening. "You're still playing games with us?"

"Games? No, no," the scientist's voice carried an amused lilt. "This is simply observation. The culmination of years of effort should not be discarded so... carelessly."

The things surged forward.

"Here we go," Shikamaru muttered, already analyzing the battlefield. "Same formation as before."

Team 10 moved as one.

.

.

Ren gritted his teeth as the grotesque creatures lunged forward, their twisted forms lurching with unnatural movements. Their mismatched limbs and grotesque mutations made them unpredictable, attacking with erratic, almost desperate motions. He barely dodged a swipe from one, feeling the air shift as elongated fingers—too many fingers—clawed at his face.

The instant his feet touched the ground again, he sprang backward, flinging a handful of senbon tipped with a mild paralytic. The needles struck true, sinking into exposed flesh, but the effect was far from what he'd hoped. The creature faltered for only a moment before shuddering violently, its body rejecting the toxin as if it had long since adapted to such things.

"Not enough," Ren realized with a sinking feeling. His poisons were usually an advantage, but against beings that were warped beyond natural biology, they might as well be nothing more than a nuisance. His mind raced as he weaved between attacks, throwing down a smoke bomb infused with a disorienting agent. The dense, violet-tinged cloud spread quickly, forcing his pursuers to hesitate as their mutated senses struggled to adjust. It gave him just enough time to reassess.

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

"Ino, shift left!"

He barely had time to register Shikamaru's voice before Ino was already moving. She ducked low beneath a lunging beast, then twisted around as her fingers flicked through hand seals. Her chakra pulsed outward, seizing hold of one of the creatures' erratic minds. For a brief second, it hesitated, its grotesque form twitching as she forced her will upon it. Then, with an unnatural jerk, it turned—clawing wildly at the nearest of its kin.

Ren took the opportunity to reinforce his wires, tightening them across the narrow sections of the ruined lab. If he couldn't rely on his poisons, then misdirection would have to do.

A screech rang out as one of the creatures rushed toward him, its gaping maw lined with jagged, irregular teeth. Ren barely had time to shift his stance, but the moment it stepped past the threshold of his trap, its forward momentum was cut short. The razor-thin wires tangled around its limbs, yanking it to an abrupt halt as it thrashed violently. Ren flicked his wrist, reinforcing the hold. The creature struggled, its form twisting unnaturally, but it could not advance.

Then, in a blur of motion, Asuma struck.

His chakra-imbued trench knives sliced through the creature's flesh with precision, severing tendons before it could fully break free. It let out an unearthly wail before crumpling, convulsing in a grotesque mockery of human agony. The Jonin didn't stop moving, already turning toward another enemy.

Shikamaru, meanwhile, had taken advantage of the dim light to extend his shadow, catching two of the remaining experiments at once. His fingers twitched subtly, forcing them into a staggered stance before he tilted his head slightly toward Ino.

"Now!"

Ino didn't hesitate. Her chakra surged again, latching onto the trapped creatures' fragile minds. With a single sharp command, they turned on one another, their distorted bodies colliding in a sickening tangle of limbs. They tore at each other mindlessly, driven by her interference.

Ren let out a sharp breath, impressed despite himself. This wasn't the first time he'd seen them work together, but watching the seamless coordination between them in real combat was something else entirely. They weren't just reacting to threats—they were manipulating the battlefield, dictating the flow of the fight. It was efficient. Ruthless. And effective.

For the first time since entering this hellish place, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was beginning to fit into this team.

The final creature fell with a gurgling, inhuman screech as Asuma finished it off. Silence settled over the ruined chamber, broken only by the team's heavy breathing.

Then, slow clapping echoed from above.

The voice of their unseen enemy slithered through the air, thick with amusement.

"Impressive," the scientist mused, his tone carrying the detached curiosity of someone watching lab rats navigate a maze. "You really have adapted well. Perhaps you'll survive longer than the others."

The air suddenly hummed, a low mechanical groan reverberating through the walls. Heavy locks clanked open from the far end of the room, the sound of shifting metal and deep, guttural breathing filtering into the stale air. Something massive stirred beyond the doors.

Ren felt a chill crawl down his spine.

"Now," the voice crooned, almost playful, "let's see how you fare against something... more refined. I think you met this one before," he chuckled.

The doors began to open.

And the real horror began.

.

.

The heavy doors groaned open, releasing a thick, stagnant air that reeked of decay and chemicals. The moment the first sliver of darkness was exposed, Ren's stomach twisted. He knew what was coming. He had faced it already—barely survived it.

Then, from the shadows, a massive shape lumbered forward.

The creature that had nearly torn him apart in the cages was back.

Its grotesque, misshapen body forced its way through the doorway, muscles shifting in ways that no natural being should move. The dim light of the lab cast warped shadows over its skin—patches of fur where there shouldn't be, twisted sinew visible through parts where flesh had rotted away. The monstrous experiment let out a low, guttural growl as its unnatural eyes flickered, adjusting to the light. And then it saw him.

Ren felt his heartbeat hammer in his throat.

It remembered.

Before he could warn the others, the creature charged.

"Scatter!" Shikamaru barked, already diving to the side.

Ren barely managed to push off the ground in time, the air pressure from the beast's mad rush knocking him off balance as he rolled across the floor. The sheer weight of the monster shook the foundation of the ruined lab, its claws screeching against the metal floor as it wheeled around to find its prey once more.

"Ino, Shikamaru, keep moving!" Ren shouted as he scrambled to his feet. "It's fast, but its weight slows it down on turns!"

He reached for a pouch at his waist, fingers brushing against the cool metal of senbon. He needed to think—poison wouldn't work well, and his vines weren't strong enough to restrain it yet. Instead, he flicked his wrist, sending a set of wires looping through the air.

The beast lunged again.

This time, Ino was already moving. With a sharp pivot, she evaded its swipe, twisting her body mid-air to avoid the grotesque claw that nearly clipped her shoulder. "Shikamaru!" she shouted, snapping her fingers as she landed.

"I got it!"

Shikamaru's shadow extended in an instant, surging forward like ink spilling across the floor. The creature barely reacted in time, its grotesque form twisting unnaturally as if sensing the incoming technique. It dodged—not entirely, but enough to avoid full paralysis.

"Dammit," Shikamaru hissed through his teeth. "It's adapting—Ren!"

Ren didn't hesitate. With a flick of his hands, his wires snapped into place. The thin strands looped around the beast's wrist, tightening just enough to slow its movement. It wasn't enough to hold it outright, but it bought them a split second.

A second was all they needed.

Ino's chakra pulsed, and for a brief moment, the creature jerked, twitching erratically as her Mind Body Disturbance Jutsu fought for control.

"Now, hit it!" she shouted.

Ren moved without thinking. His senbon flew in a precise arc, lodging into the exposed flesh of the beast's malformed neck and shoulders—not to poison it, but to distract it. Asuma had taught him that a battle wasn't always about overwhelming strength. Sometimes, it was about control.

The beast let out a snarl, staggering just enough for Shikamaru's shadow to seize control of its arm.

In that instant, Ino's jutsu pushed deeper.

The beast howled, its body seizing up violently. For a moment, its grotesque limbs spasmed, caught between its own instincts and Ino's forced control.

Then, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the ruined lab.

The hairs on the back of Ren's neck stood on end.

A shadow detached itself from the upper platforms, stepping into the dim glow of the flickering lights.

"You've lasted longer than expected," the voice mused, smooth and deliberate. "That's a pleasant surprise."

The scientist behind all this.

Now that he was fully visible, the man's appearance was almost as unsettling as his creations. He was tall and gaunt, with sharp, sunken features that made his eyes appear almost hollow. Cracked glasses on his nose. His skin was pale, almost sickly, but there was a madness burning in his gaze—a fanaticism that sent a chill down Ren's spine.

Most disturbing, however, was the black marking that crawled along his exposed forearm, pulsing faintly with chakra. It slithered like living ink beneath his skin, branching out in jagged, unnatural patterns. The sight of it sent an immediate warning through Ren's instincts, but it was Shikamaru who tensed beside him, his sharp eyes narrowing.

That mark—he had seen something just like it before.

It wasn't identical, but the resemblance was too close to ignore. It reminded him of the strange power some of Orichimarus Minions in their attempted retrieval mission of Sasuke had wielded, the way their bodies changed when the markings spread. He had barely managed to counter that ability back then, and now, seeing it again in a completely different situation, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping into something far more dangerous than they'd prepared for.

Asuma must have noticed it too because his posture shifted slightly—still confident, but now wary.

The scientist, unfazed by their reactions, tilted his head with a slow smirk.

"Ah," he mused, as if recognizing their unease. "You've noticed my… gift." He flexed his fingers, and the markings pulsed again, a sickly chakra rolling off him like a heatwave. "It's proof of my dedication to progress—my willingness to evolve."

Ren's stomach twisted at the choice of words.

"You're another one of Orochimaru's freaks, then?" Ino shot back, eyes sharp.

The scientist chuckled at that, shaking his head. "No, no, my dear. I was cast aside long before I could show the true potential of my research." His smile thinned, eyes darkening. "He lacked vision. He saw my ideas as too unstable—not good enough. But I knew better. I knew that with time and the right subjects, I could create something beyond human limitations."

His gaze flickered toward the beast still struggling under Ino's and Shikamaru's combined techniques. A glimmer of something almost like pride crossed his face.

"My name," he continued, "is Shigen. And I will mold you into the form you were ment to be"

"You're insane," Ren muttered, keeping his voice level.

Shigen only chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement. "Insanity is just another word for vision others refuse to understand. But enough talk. I believe we've reached the point where words are unnecessary."

Before any of them could react, Shigen moved.

It wasn't a normal movement—it was too fast, too fluid, his body twisting in unnatural ways as he shot toward Asuma in a blur.

Asuma barely had time to raise his trench knives before Shigen's hand lashed out, fingers curling like claws as they struck with inhuman force. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, forcing Team 10 to instinctively retreat.

Ren's heart pounded.

That speed—that wasn't just enhanced chakra. It was something else entirely.

"Asuma-sensei—!" Ino started, but Shigen's laughter cut through her words.

"Shouldn't you worry about yourselves first?" he sneered.

As if on command, the mutated beast beneath them roared.

The markings on its skin—similar in shape to Shigen's own—began to spread. Its veins bulged, its muscles swelled, and the moment Ino's technique slipped for just a second, it broke free.

Ren's pulse spiked.

.

.

The room was alive with movement, the stale air thick with the scent of rust and something wrong. Every sound echoed too loudly, the clash of metal, the sharp breaths, the snarl of the beast, all underscored by the mocking laughter of Shigen.

"Come on, now," the scientist taunted, dodging a swipe of Asuma's trench knives with unnatural ease. "Is that really all you can do? I expected more from a former member of the Twelve Guardian Ninja."

Asuma's jaw clenched, muscles flexing as he twisted mid-air, bringing his blade down in a sharp arc. Shigen caught it with his forearm, the cursed markings on his skin pulsing as the blade skidded against it like striking metal. He retaliated in an instant, a sharp knee aimed at Asuma's ribs. Asuma barely managed to block, but the force sent him staggering back.

Meanwhile, Team 10 had their own nightmare to deal with.

The mutated beast, now fully unfettered, lunged at them, its grotesque form moving in bursts of unnatural speed. Its muscles bulged beneath its patchwork skin, too thick, too wrong. Ren threw a handful of poisoned senbon, aiming for its exposed flesh, but they barely slowed it. His poison, already struggling against the thing's warped biology, wasn't fast-acting enough to make a difference mid-fight.

Shikamaru's shadow shot out like a viper, but the creature twisted, jerking itself free just before it could be locked in place.

"Tch—so it's learning," Shikamaru muttered under his breath.

"Eyes on me, little ones," Shigen called from the other side of the room, his voice almost playful. "If you can't even handle that, what hope do you have?"

A flicker of chakra from him—sudden, focused—sent a shockwave through the space. The beast reacted, as if something had snapped in its mind, and it charged.

Ren barely had time to think.

"Move!" he barked, already setting off a smoke bomb at their feet. The room filled with thick, curling fog. He yanked out a length of wire, running it between his fingers as he shifted to higher ground.

Through the dense smoke, he could hear the creature's growl—low, guttural, tracking them through sound instead of sight.

"Shikamaru—how do we pin it?!" Ino hissed, gripping a kunai.

"Still figuring that out," Shikamaru murmured, mind working double-time. The creature was too strong to restrain for long, too fast for their usual techniques to land effectively. If they didn't control the field soon, they were going to be torn apart.

Ren exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance. Then we make an opening ourselves.

With a flick of his wrist, his wires sprang forward, latching onto the rusted metal beams above. The second his feet left the ground, the beast pounced, claws slamming into the spot he had just vacated.

He twisted midair, throwing another handful of senbon laced with an experimental numbing venom—this time directly at its eyes.

The beast howled.

An opening.

"Now!" Ren called.

Shikamaru reacted first. His shadow surged forward again, this time stretching impossibly fast under the flickering light of the ruined chamber. The beast reeled, snarling, the sting of Ren's poison leaving it momentarily disoriented. It blinked rapidly, its pupils contracting as the venom clouded its senses.

For a split second, it hesitated.

That was all they needed.

Shikamaru's shadow coiled around its distorted limbs, jerking them taut as he gritted his teeth. "Got you," he murmured, sweat beading at his temple.

Ino was already moving, ducking low and sprinting forward. "Mind Body Disturbance Jutsu!" she shouted, fingers flashing through seals. Her chakra latched onto the beast's mind like hooks digging into flesh.

Its body convulsed, muscles seizing as its movements turned erratic. It swiped blindly at nothing, struggling against forces it couldn't understand. For a moment, just a moment, it was staggered.

Ren landed back on the ground, chest rising and falling quickly. "Good. We need to finish it before it adapts again." He moved to pull another set of weapons from his pouch, but Shigen's chuckle cut through the tension like a blade.

"Oh, how adorable," the scientist purred, the markings on his skin writhing as his chakra flared. "You think you've won?"

A pulse of raw, unfiltered power erupted from him, sharp and unnatural. It twisted in the air, thick with malice.

The effect was immediate.

The beast shuddered, then screamed. Its body spasmed violently as its skin cracked, veins bulging beneath the surface. Shikamaru's hold broke instantly, his shadow recoiling like a snapped cord. Ino gasped, clutching her head as if she'd been struck.

Then, with a sickening crack of bone, the beast grew.

Its already-misshapen limbs twisted further, muscles ballooning with grotesque new mass. Its eyes, already too wild, darkened into something bottomless. It no longer looked like a failed experiment desperately trying to function. It looked like a monster.

Ren swore under his breath, stepping in front of Ino as she stumbled from the psychic backlash. His hands clenched into fists. We just lost our control options.

Shikamaru's voice was tight. "That thing's stronger than before."

"Not just stronger," Ren murmured. His mind raced, analyzing the erratic way its chakra pulsed. More resilient. More vicious. Less… human.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Shigen mused from his perch above them, completely unbothered. "With a proper application of my little enhancements, even failures become useful."

Ino gritted her teeth, shaking off the lingering effects of her technique breaking. "Yeah? Let's see how 'useful' it is when we cut it down."

She was already moving, flipping her kunai into a reverse grip before launching herself forward.

The beast roared.

It lunged, its grotesque claws ripping through the air.

Ren moved, instinct taking over as he wove between the wreckage, setting up his wires. Shikamaru was right behind him, shifting the battlefield again, forcing the creature's attention where they wanted it.

But it was faster now. Stronger.

Ren landed a hit—one of his senbon piercing into its shoulder—but it barely even reacted.

His stomach twisted.

This… isn't good.

And then—

Ino miscalculated.

She dashed to the side, aiming for another strike, but the beast anticipated it this time. Its claws lashed out in a wide arc—faster than before, harder to predict.

Ren's heart slammed into his ribs.

She's not going to dodge in time—!

He moved without thinking.

A blur of motion, a flash of steel—

He crashed into her, knocking them both to the ground just as the claws swept through the space where she'd stood.

Pain flared sharp along his back as debris bit into his skin, but he didn't care.

Ino's breath hitched, her wide blue eyes locking onto his.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then she exhaled, gripping his arm. "You—"

"Not the time," he cut in, already shifting back into position.

The beast snarled, recovering from its missed attack.

Ren tightened his grip on his wires.

They were not out of this yet.

.

.

Up above, Asuma took in the scene with narrowed eyes, his trench knives gleaming under the dim light.

He exhaled slowly.

Then he lunged, closing the distance between him and Shigen in a blur.

If this bastard wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

Asuma surged forward, trench knives gleaming with the faint blue of wind chakra. The moment his foot left the ground, Shigen moved to intercept, his grotesque form shifting unnaturally as he sidestepped. The scientist's movements were erratic but deceptively calculated, his body seemingly adjusting mid-motion as if adapting to the flow of combat in real time.

Asuma wasn't impressed.

With a twist of his wrist, his right-hand trench knife slashed through the air in a brutal arc. Shigen barely avoided it, his black-marked forearm twisting unnaturally to intercept. Sparks flared as the wind-coated blade clashed against reinforced flesh, and for the first time, the scientist's easy smirk faltered.

"Interesting," Shigen mused, eyes glinting with something sharp. "A Jonin of your caliber shouldn't be wasting time with me. Shouldn't you be saving your kids?"

Asuma didn't take the bait. Instead, he pressed forward, his movements sharp and controlled. He struck out again, this time aiming lower, forcing Shigen to adjust. The scientist retaliated, his own unnatural speed bringing him dangerously close to Asuma's ribs.

Asuma exhaled sharply, then—

Wind Release: Gale Palm!

A burst of wind erupted from his free hand, throwing Shigen off balance. In the same instant, Asuma pivoted, flipping his trench knife in his grip before slamming the blunt edge into the scientist's abdomen. The sheer force sent Shigen skidding backward, cracks forming in the tiled floor beneath his feet.

Shigen chuckled, wiping his mouth. His fingers came away with a smear of blood. "Not bad." His voice was still playful, but something in his gaze had sharpened.

Then, without warning, the markings on his skin pulsed.

A surge of energy exploded outward, and in a blink, Shigen wasn't there anymore.

Asuma barely had time to react before a clawed hand lashed toward his throat. He dodged—just barely—feeling the wind shift as nails longer than they had any right to be grazed past his skin.

His trench knives flashed, moving on instinct, but Shigen was fast. Not just fast—unpredictable. His body jerked rather than moved, shifting at inhuman angles mid-motion, like a puppet with its strings violently yanked in random directions.

Asuma felt the shift in the battle.

This wasn't going to be as simple as overpowering a deranged scientist. Shigen had fused himself with his research—his failures—and in doing so, had turned his body into something else entirely.

Something that didn't fight like a man, but like an experiment barely holding itself together.

Damn, Asuma thought grimly. He's been pushing me this whole time, learning my timing.

Fine. Time to take it up a notch.

He jumped back, exhaling sharply. His chakra flared, the air around him shifting.

Shigen's grin widened. "Oh? Finally getting serious?"

Asuma didn't respond. Instead, he flipped his trench knives, the wind chakra around them intensifying, forming visible currents that shimmered with a deadly edge.

Then he moved.

This time, Shigen wasn't fast enough.

Asuma tore through the distance between them, his trench knives slicing through the air with lethal precision. Shigen jerked back, but this time the wind was too sharp, too focused. A clean gash split across his chest, darkened blood seeping into his tattered robes.

Shigen hissed, his markings flaring.

Asuma didn't let up. He spun on his heel, chakra flowing seamlessly as he performed a quick series of seals.

Wind Release: Pressure Burst!

A concentrated explosion of wind erupted, forcing Shigen backward again, straight into Asuma's trap.

Asuma's fingers curled into another seal.

Fire Release: Burning Ash Cloud!

The chamber filled with thick smoke, the air heavy with the scent of igniting embers.

Shigen realized the trap too late.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the room.

Shigen was sent flying, his body slamming into the far wall with a sickening crack.

For a moment, silence.

Then—

A laugh.

Low. Wheezing.

Shigen pushed himself up, steam rising from his singed flesh. The black markings on his skin pulsed erratically, his breath uneven.

"Oh, Asuma," he rasped, his tone twisted with something disturbingly close to delight. "You almost got me with that one."

Asuma scowled.

Then, before he could press his attack, something shifted in the air.

A surge of movement—

He turned sharply, eyes flickering toward the ongoing battle between Team 10 and the beast.

His stomach dropped.

Ren was hurt. Blood streaked his arm, and Ino was pinned.

Shit.

He moved on instinct, lunging to interfere—

But the moment his focus wavered—

A shadow blurred into his peripheral vision.

Too late.

A clawed hand slammed into his side, sending him crashing into the ground.

His ribs burned.

Shigen's laughter rang out above him. "And there it is," he cooed. "That instinct."

Asuma clenched his jaw, forcing himself to push up, but the damage was done.

Shigen tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "You're strong, Sarutobi," he admitted. "But distractions? They cost you. Don't worry though, we can cut all those useless thoughts away soon enough"

Asuma exhaled, steadying himself.

He needed to buy time.

Because Team 10 had to end their fight now.

.

.

Ren clenched his jaw, blood trickling down his arm. His breathing was rough, his chest rising and falling in sharp gasps.

The beast loomed above them, its monstrous form shifting restlessly.

Shikamaru moved first.

His shadow darted forward, twisting between debris and broken structures, forcing the beast's attention.

Ren saw the opportunity.

His fingers clenched around the thin wires still coiled between his gloves.

They needed to end this.

Ino, barely catching her breath, met his gaze. "Got a plan?"

Ren exhaled sharply. "We trap it."

Shikamaru's lips curled into a half-smirk. "Good thinking."

The battle wasn't over yet.

But the end was coming.

The air was thick with the scent of rusted metal, scorched flesh, and something worse—a sickly-sweet rot that clung to the insides of their throats. The beast loomed before them, panting heavily, its grotesque form marred by wounds but far from finished. It watched them now, eyes flicking between the three genin with a cautious intelligence that hadn't been there before.

Ren wiped the blood from his arm, fingers tightening around the thin steel wire still coiled between his gloves. "Shikamaru," he murmured, low enough that only his teammates could hear. "Think we can bind it again?"

Shikamaru's sharp eyes flicked to the terrain, calculating. "Not without bait."

A beat of silence. Then—

"I'll do it."

Ino's voice was steady, despite the adrenaline humming beneath it.

Ren's gaze snapped to her. "You sure?"

"I'm the fastest out of the three of us," she countered, rolling her shoulders. "And I can keep its attention long enough for you to set up."

Ren exhaled through his nose, hesitating—but there wasn't time for doubt.

"Fine," he said. "Just don't get yourself killed."

Ino grinned, despite everything. "You worried about me?"

Ren didn't dignify that with an answer.

The plan moved into motion in an instant.

Ino launched forward, her chakra flaring as she wove between the broken remnants of the facility, forcing the beast to chase. It lunged, claws swiping, but Ino twisted—just fast enough to avoid getting ripped apart.

Behind her, Ren moved with precision, his fingers working quickly as he maneuvered the steel wire through the terrain, creating an intricate trap of near-invisible lines.

Shikamaru's hands formed a seal.

The moment the beast stumbled within the wired perimeter, Shikamaru's shadow snapped forward.

The monster froze.

For a second, there was silence.

Then—

Ren pulled.

The wires tightened, wrapping around the beast's limbs in a brutal snare.

It screamed, a warped, unnatural sound, thrashing violently against its bindings.

Ren gritted his teeth, muscles straining. Not yet.

Shikamaru held the shadow possession as long as he could, veins bulging against his temple from the sheer force of the struggle.

Then—

Ino moved.

She inhaled sharply, fingers forming the seal.

Mind Body Disturbance Jutsu!

The beast's struggles slowed—its erratic, monstrous movements faltering under Ino's influence.

Ren reacted instantly.

He slammed his free hand against the ground.

Dokuhana Style: Poison Vine Binding!

Dark, twisting vines erupted from beneath the stone, snaking around the beast's limbs and torso.

For the first time, true panic flashed in its frenzied eyes.

"NOW!" Ren barked.

Shikamaru released his jutsu.

Ino withdrew at the last second.

Ren jerked the wires taut.

The beast collapsed.

For a long moment, nothing moved.

Then—

A flicker of motion.

A figure.

Asuma landed beside them, trench knives gleaming.

His hand lifted.

Wind Release: Dust Wind Slash!

A final howl—and then silence.

The beast lay still.

The fight was over.

But the battle wasn't.

.

.

A slow clap echoed through the ruined chamber.

Shigen stood atop the remnants of a broken walkway, his twisted grin stretching across his face.

"Beautiful," he mused, voice dripping with mock admiration. "Truly. I can see why Orochimaru himself has an eye on Konoha's young prodigies."

Asuma stepped forward, his posture tense but controlled. His side still ached from his earlier injury, but he didn't let it show.

Shigen tilted his head, markings pulsing across his skin. "And now," he murmured, almost reverently. "We see who truly evolves."

Then he moved.

Asuma barely had time to raise his trench knives before Shigen was on him, movements erratic and wrong, as if his very body was shifting mid-attack.

Blades clashed.

Wind met flesh.

Shigen's hand twisted unnaturally, fingers elongating into something not human as he swiped at Asuma's ribs.

Asuma countered with a sharp twist, bringing his knee up—slamming it into Shigen's stomach.

The scientist lurched back, wheezing—but his grin never wavered.

"Still this strong," he mused. "But strength alone—"

His markings flared.

"—isn't evolution."

His body shifted.

Then, before Asuma could react—

Shigen wasn't attacking him anymore.

He was going for the kids.

Ren barely had time to register the movement before Shigen was in his face.

The scientist's hand snapped forward—

Ren's body froze.

Too fast.

Too strong.

He braced for impact—

But it never came.

Because Asuma was there first.

His trench knife met Shigen's wrist, deflecting the attack in a burst of wind chakra.

Shigen stumbled—just long enough.

Ren's hand moved on instinct.

A senbon.

A single, poisoned senbon—

straight into Shigen's neck.

Right on his cursed Mark.

The scientist choked.

His body jerked.

And then—

A huge burst of unstable chakra.

Shigen's markings flickered.

Then—began to dissolve.

He stumbled back, fingers clutching at his throat.

His breath hitched.

"No," he rasped, "this can't be it. There is still so much to perfect."

His knees buckled.

His body convulsed.

He fell.

And this time—

He didn't get up.

Silence.

Only the sound of heavy breathing filled the space.

Asuma stepped forward.

Ren, Ino, and Shikamaru stared.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then—

Ren let out a deep breath.

"About time."

Shikamaru groaned, dropping onto the ground.

"How did you know this would work?"

Ren shrugged, "He looked pretty unstable at the end, the rest was just luck."

Ino laughed, breathless.

Asuma sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's finish up and get the hell out of here."

And this time—

No one disagreed.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 12: In the Doghouse

The journey through the remainder of the Forest of Dying Blossoms was far from easy, but compared to what they had just survived, it felt almost peaceful in comparison. The oppressive, unnatural presence that had once lurked behind every twisting vine and shadowed canopy had faded, leaving only the raw, untamed wilds behind. There were still dangers—hidden pitfalls, venomous creatures that skittered away at their approach, and the ever-present sense that something was watching—but whatever remnants of the ruined lab remained had no more hold over them.

With Asuma leading the way, the team moved with more ease than before. They found the flower they had been sent for—its delicate white petals tinged with violet, growing atop a moss-covered outcrop near the edge of a shallow stream. After everything, it almost felt underwhelming. A mission that had nearly cost them their lives, all for something that fit in the palm of Ren's hand. But as he carefully placed the flower into the preservation seal Asuma had provided, he reminded himself that even the smallest things could hold great value.

The path back home was slower, not because of the terrain, but because they were exhausted. Cuts and bruises, bandaged in makeshift wrappings, ached with every movement. Their muscles protested, their chakra reserves were drained, and yet, there was something lighter in the air between them.

They had survived. Together.

It wasn't until they paused to rest by a fallen log, the midday sun peeking through the dense foliage, that the weight of everything truly settled in.

"Alright," Asuma exhaled, stretching his sore limbs. "Talk to me. How's everyone holding up?"

Ino was the first to answer, leaning back against a mossy rock. "Tired. Sore. Still picking dirt out of my hair." She flicked a leaf from her shoulder. "But all things considered? I've had worse."

Shikamaru gave her a flat look. "When have you ever had worse?"

Ino grinned. "Alright, fine—maybe this was the worst mission so far. But hey, we made it out, didn't we?" She stretched her arms above her head, shooting a glance at Ren. "Even if some people keep needing me to save them."

Ren snorted, arms crossed as he leaned against a tree. "That's funny, coming from someone who had to be saved right after."

Ino opened her mouth—then paused, visibly hesitating for just a second before she scoffed. "Alright, fine, I'll let you have that one."

The conversation should have felt lighthearted, but something in Ino's expression wavered, just for a moment. She glanced at Ren out of the corner of her eye, then quickly looked away, fingers tapping idly against her knee.

She hadn't meant to enter his mind.

The accidental rush of thoughts, emotions, memories—it had been fleeting, but enough to leave a mark.

Ren wasn't just another teammate.

She wasn't sure what that meant yet, but she knew it was something she couldn't just ignore.

Shikamaru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Troublesome," he muttered. "That was too close."

"You mean the fight?" Ino asked.

Shikamaru hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah." He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I knew being a shinobi wasn't easy, but… this is the second time now. First the invasion, and now this." He frowned, fingers curling slightly. "I can't keep treating this like it's just another job. Next time, if I'm not careful…"

His thoughts trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Next time, someone might not make it out.

Asuma watched him for a long moment before giving a small nod of approval. "It's good that you're thinking about this seriously," he said, voice calm. "You should. Missions will only get harder from here on out."

Shikamaru grumbled something under his breath, but didn't argue.

Asuma turned to Ren. "And you?"

Ren was silent for a moment, gaze lowered. "I need to train more."

Ino blinked, tilting her head. "I mean, we all need to train more."

Ren shook his head. "No. I need to. My poisons weren't strong enough. My vines weren't strong enough. And even with everything I knew, I still…" He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. "I couldn't keep up."

Asuma frowned, but before he could say anything, Ren continued.

"And healing," he added. His gaze flicked to Ino's arm, still wrapped from the scrape she'd gotten earlier. "I—I was able to help a little, but that's not enough. We keep getting injured, and every time, we have to rely on someone else to patch us up." His fingers curled slightly. "I don't want to keep relying on luck."

A brief silence followed.

Then—

"Huh."

Ren looked up.

Ino was watching him, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she smirked. "Didn't think you had it in you to be so serious, flower boy."

Ren rolled his eyes. "I'm always serious."

"Uh-huh," Ino drawled, grinning. But there was something softer in her expression now—something understanding. "Well, if you do start learning more medical ninjutsu, I guess I could show you a thing or two. I am one of the best, after all."

Ren gave her a flat look. "You just started training in it yourself."

"Details," she said breezily, waving a hand.

Asuma chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, let's keep moving. We've still got a long way back."

With a few grumbles, the team picked themselves up and continued onward.

And despite the exhaustion, despite the aches and the bruises and the memories of what they had just endured…

They walked together, side by side.

A team.

Stronger than before.

And for the first time…

Ren felt like he was truly a part of it.

.

.

The gates of Konoha loomed in the distance, standing tall and sturdy against the morning sun. The journey back had been long, but as Team 10 stepped through, exhaustion was momentarily replaced by relief.

Home.

Guards stationed at the entrance barely spared them more than a nod, their attention more focused on paperwork and monitoring incoming travelers. It was a stark contrast to the nightmarish jungle they had just left behind. The familiar streets of the village bustled with life—shopkeepers calling out deals, shinobi moving between missions, and civilians going about their day as if nothing had changed.

But for Team 10, everything had changed.

Asuma led the way straight to the Hokage's office. They didn't stop to rest, didn't stop to eat. The mission wasn't over until the report was given, and Tsunade would want to hear this one in full.

When they arrived, Shizune was already waiting just outside the office, clipboard in hand. She glanced up as they approached, her sharp eyes immediately flicking over them for any lingering injuries.

"You all look exhausted," she noted.

"Yeah," Shikamaru muttered. "It's been a week."

Shizune's brow furrowed at that, but Asuma gave her a reassuring nod before pushing open the door to Tsunade's office.

The Godaime Hokage sat behind her desk, sifting through a mess of paperwork, her expression a mixture of irritation and fatigue. She looked up at their arrival, golden eyes narrowing slightly before focusing on the small, sealed scroll in Asuma's hand.

"That it?" she asked.

Asuma strode forward, placing the mission objective—the flower—on her desk. "It wasn't easy, but we got it."

Tsunade picked up the scroll, rolling it between her fingers before setting it aside. "I'll have it sent to the hospital for processing," she said, but her sharp gaze flicked back to Asuma. "Something tells me that's not the only thing you have to report."

Asuma let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. We ran into a problem—an old research facility hidden in the forest. One of Orochimaru's, from the looks of it."

Tsunade's eyes darkened. "Orochimaru?"

Shikamaru crossed his arms. "The place was abandoned, but not empty." His expression hardened. "There was someone still there. A researcher. Said his name was Shigen."

Tsunade didn't react immediately, but the subtle shift in her posture was enough to tell them she recognized the name. "…Shigen," she murmured, as if testing the name against her memory. Then, she exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Damn it."

"You knew about him?" Ino asked.

Tsunade shook her head. "Not personally, but I've heard the name before. He was one of Orochimaru's early assistants—one of the first to show talent in medical experimentation. But he wasn't prominent. Most of our intel suggested he was discarded when Orochimaru moved on to more… refined projects."

Shikamaru frowned. "He didn't seem discarded. He was still working on experiments—still trying to 'prove himself' to Orochimaru."

Tsunade's expression darkened further.

"He had the Cursed Seal," Ren added. "Or something close to it. It wasn't stable, though."

That made Tsunade's eyes narrow. "That's troubling," she muttered. Then she straightened. "But he's dead now?"

Asuma nodded. "We made sure of it."

Tsunade exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Good."

Silence settled for a moment before she leaned forward, clasping her hands together. "I'll have ANBU sweep the area and destroy whatever remains of that facility. The last thing we need is for scavengers to pick up where he left off." Her gaze swept over them. "As for you four, you did well."

Asuma smirked. "Praise from the Hokage? We must have really impressed."

Tsunade rolled her eyes. "Don't push it."

Despite her words, there was something in her expression—a weight behind her gratitude. Team 10 had handled something far beyond a typical C-rank mission, and Tsunade knew it.

Shizune cleared her throat. "Speaking of which, I wanted to make a suggestion." She turned toward Ino and Ren specifically. "You two—your skillsets could use more refinement, especially considering the kinds of missions you're being sent on."

Ren straightened slightly, glancing at Ino. "You mean medical training?"

"Among other things," Shizune said. "You're already showing an interest in poisons and healing, Ren. If you want to properly develop those skills, I'd be willing to mentor you."

Ren's eyes widened slightly.

"And Ino," Shizune continued, "your progress in medical ninjutsu is promising, but you still have a long way to go. If you want, I can set up additional training sessions for you as well."

Ino blinked, then grinned. "Are you kidding? I'd love that."

Shizune smiled. "Good. I'll arrange something soon."

With that, Tsunade gave them a final nod. "Get some rest, all of you. You've earned it."

Asuma took that as their dismissal, leading the team out of the office.

As they stepped back into the streets of Konoha, Ren couldn't help but linger on the conversation.

Training.

Actual structured training with one of the best medical kunoichi in the village.

For the first time in a long while… he felt like he had a direction to move in.

A purpose.

.

.

Ren had barely made it a few steps past the main gate of the compound when he spotted his brother leaning against the porch, arms crossed, watching him like a hawk.

Immediately, Ren's instincts screamed something's up.

Arato never waited for him. If he needed something, he'd just barge in and demand it. If he was here, waiting outside of all things, it meant one thing—

He wanted something, and he didn't want anyone else to hear it.

"…Alright," Ren said slowly, stopping a few paces away. "What did you do?"

Arato scowled. "What, I can't wait for my little brother to come home?"

"You could. But you don't."

There was a twitch in Arato's jaw.

Ren narrowed his eyes. "Did you piss off someone important?"

"No."

"Did you get me involved in something?"

"No."

Ren crossed his arms. "Then why do you look like you just committed a crime and need my help covering it up?"

Arato exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. He was tense. And not the usual, I'm about to scold you tense—no, this was something else.

"…I need a favor," he muttered.

Ren's brows shot up. A favor? From him?

"I need you," Arato continued, voice strained, "to not mention certain things to a certain person."

Ren stared at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he grinned.

"Oh," he said, delighted, "this is so much better than I thought."

Arato shot him a warning glare. "Ren—"

"No, no, let me guess!" Ren held up a hand, enjoying this far too much. "You finally got called out on your horrible taste in tea? No—wait—you offended someone's mother again, didn't you?"

Arato ground his teeth. "Ren—"

"Oh! I got it!" Ren snapped his fingers, pretending to look serious. "You somehow managed to actually get emotionally attached to something!"

Silence.

A muscle in Arato's jaw twitched.

Ren blinked.

No way.

"…Wait. Did I actually hit it?"

Arato muttered something under his breath.

Ren leaned in. "Sorry, what was that?"

Arato scowled at him, looking like he wanted to throttle him. Then, after another long moment of glaring, he exhaled sharply.

"I'm dating Hana Inuzuka," he gritted out.

Ren immediately choked on air.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ren burst out laughing.

Arato glared at him. "Shut up."

Ren cackled. "You—you—after years of whining about her—"

"I did not whine."

"—years of calling her loud and annoying and unbearable—"

Arato looked like he was about to explode.

"I never said—"

Ren wiped a fake tear from his eye. "And now you're dating her?"

Arato took a deep breath, nostrils flaring.

"I don't need commentary," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you absolutely do."

Arato pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ren."

Ren smirked. "Yes, dear brother?"

"I will give you money to keep your mouth shut."

Ren nearly doubled over. "Oh this is incredible—"

"I swear to the Sage, Ren, if you say a single word about this to her—"

"You're bribing me?" Ren laughed. "This must be so bad—what did you even say about her all those years?"

Arato glared at him. "You know exactly what I said."

Ren did.

And it was glorious.

Years and years of complaints—Arato, the ever-stoic, forever exasperated brother, constantly ranting about how Hana was impossible, how she wasn't even a real woman because she spent too much time with her dogs, how she was too loud, too rough, too irritating—

And now he was dating her.

Ren shook his head, grinning. "Oh, I can't wait to see how this bites you—"

The front door slid open.

And standing there, arms crossed, looking entirely too amused, was Hana Inuzuka.

Ren froze.

Arato froze.

Hana smirked.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, stepping out onto the porch. "What was that about me not being a real woman, Arato?"

Arato paled.

Ren clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from howling with laughter.

Hana tilted her head. "Please, do go on. I'd love to hear all those lovely things you used to say about me."

Arato very carefully didn't look at her.

"Hana," he said, voice low, "we talked about this—"

"Oh, we did." Hana grinned, showing a flash of sharp teeth. "And you know what I said?"

Ren could see the dread forming in Arato's expression.

Hana took a step forward, cracking her knuckles.

"I said," she continued, "that you were gonna regret every single one of those comments."

Arato moved.

Hana lunged.

And in an instant, Arato—the ever-composed, ever-serious older brother—was suddenly scrambling to escape, his entire composure crumbling as Hana chased him down the porch with a grin full of murder.

Ren leaned back against the gate, arms crossed, watching the absolute chaos unfold before him.

He exhaled, utterly satisfied.

This was the best day of his life.

.

.

Hana was still annoyed.

Ren could tell from the sharp way she ate, her chopsticks moving just a little too forcefully as she grabbed her food. Her usual confidence wasn't gone—if anything, it was burning hotter—but there was an edge to her now, a lingering heat from the storm she had unleashed on Arato outside.

Arato, for his part, looked like he was trying very hard to act normal. Which, knowing him, meant he was actually thinking about how to minimize damage.

Ren had never seen his brother on the defensive like this before.

And that was interesting.

The meal had started out quiet—tense, but quiet. Their mother hadn't said much, just watching them with the patience of someone who had seen plenty of family drama unfold before. But now that most of the initial heat had settled, the atmosphere was shifting.

"So." Their mother finally broke the silence, setting her cup of tea down. "This is unexpected."

Hana's gaze snapped to her. "What?"

"You two," she gestured between her and Arato. "Dating."

Hana's expression shifted, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Yeah, funny how that worked out."

Ren leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm. "Funny is one word for it."

Arato shot him a warning glance, but Ren wasn't fazed.

Their mother hummed, tilting her head slightly. "I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. Given how frequently Arato used to complain about you."

Ren caught the way Arato's jaw tightened ever so slightly.

Hana, meanwhile, turned very slowly toward him, an eyebrow arching. "Oh? Is that so?"

Ren grinned.

This? This was going to be fun.

"Yeah, you know. Just little things," Ren said casually, tapping his fingers against the table. "Like how you were insufferable and annoying and how he couldn't stand you."

Arato exhaled slowly through his nose.

Hana's smirk widened. "That right?"

"Oh, and don't forget the 'not even a real woman' part," Ren added, as if it were an afterthought.

This time, Arato's grip on his chopsticks tightened ever so slightly.

Hana's smirk froze.

The room went still.

Then, she cracked her knuckles.

Arato sighed. "I already apologized."

"You did," she agreed, voice deceptively light. "And now I'm just making sure you remember why you had to."

Ren wasn't sure what would have happened next if their mother hadn't cut in with an amused tone.

"Well, if you two managed to work past that, I suppose that's what matters."

Hana huffed, muttering something about how some people needed extra work to fix their mistakes, but she let it go.

Ren smirked, watching the way Arato was still uncharacteristically stiff.

He was used to his brother being in control, always the cool and composed one, always two steps ahead. But right now?

Right now, Arato was a man treading very carefully around a very dangerous line.

And Ren was enjoying it.

"You know," Ren mused, picking up a bite of rice. "You're taking this all a little too well, Arato."

Arato gave him a flat look. "I fail to see how anything about this has been 'well.'"

Ren grinned. "That's fair. But still, I gotta ask—what changed?"

Arato paused.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally, he sighed, glancing to the side. "…I got to know her."

Silence.

Hana's expression shifted, losing some of its teasing edge.

Ren raised an eyebrow. That was—

Surprisingly sincere.

Hana tilted her head slightly. "…Huh."

Arato took a sip of tea, clearly done with the conversation.

Hana smirked. "Still think I'm insufferable?"

"Yes," he said immediately.

She grinned. "Good."

Their mother chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, the only thing left now is—" She paused, then smirked. "Oh, Arato. Have you told Tsume yet?"

The chopsticks nearly slipped from Arato's hand.

Ren saw the exact moment realization hit him.

His face didn't change much—but there was a slight widening of his eyes, and his grip tightened just a fraction.

"…Shit," Arato muttered.

Ren grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

.

.

Dinner continued, the conversation shifting to lighter topics—though the occasional jab at Arato's expense still slipped in when Hana saw an opportunity. She had let the worst of it go, but she wasn't about to let him forget. Arato, meanwhile, had mostly resigned himself to his fate.

Ren found the whole thing deeply entertaining.

Still, even with the banter and the occasional threat of violence from Hana, there was something else in the air—something quieter, lingering beneath the surface.

The topic of relationships had been brought up naturally, but now it hung there, waiting.

Their mother took another sip of tea before turning her attention to Ren.

"You've been quiet," she said.

Ren blinked. "Have I?"

She gave him a knowing look. "You have."

Hana smirked. "Ohhh, does our little Ren have some opinions?"

Arato perked up slightly at that, shifting gears almost immediately. "He hasn't dated anyone, so I doubt it."

Ren scowled. "I have other priorities."

"Like what?" Arato asked, leaning forward slightly.

Ren narrowed his eyes. "Training."

Hana snorted. "I dunno, Ren. Training isn't a relationship."

"I know that."

Arato hummed. "You know, it is a little weird. Even Shikamaru has more experience than you."

Ren made a face. "That is a wild sentence."

Hana grinned. "Oh, come on. You have to have at least thought about it. You're not dead."

Ren hesitated.

Because…well.

They weren't wrong.

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed things before, but he'd always shoved them aside, filed them under not important right now. And sure, sometimes things felt…different.

Like how he'd caught himself thinking about Ino a little more than he expected.

Or how his stomach had dropped when she'd been in danger.

Or how, after everything in that damn forest, he remembered the feeling of her mind against his—the way her thoughts had tangled with his for that brief, disorienting moment.

Not that he would ever admit that.

Not now. Not ever.

So, instead, he just shrugged. "It's…not really something I've spent time thinking about."

Hana grinned. "You so have."

Ren scowled. "I really haven't."

Arato smirked. "Not even a little?"

Ren picked up his tea and took a long, pointed sip.

Arato and Hana exchanged looks.

"Suspicious," Hana said.

"Very," Arato agreed.

Ren put down his tea. "I hate both of you."

Their mother chuckled, shaking her head. "Let him figure it out in his own time."

Ren gave her a grateful look.

Arato hummed, leaning back slightly. "Yeah, I guess. Not everyone can be as much of a disaster as I was."

Hana snorted. "At least you're self-aware."

Ren smirked. "So, have you picked the date and time for Tsume yet?"

The way Arato visibly flinched made the entire conversation worth it.

Hana grinned. "Ooooh, that's gonna be a fun conversation."

Ren folded his arms. "I cannot wait to watch it happen."

Arato groaned, rubbing his temples. "I hate both of you."

And just like that, the topic shifted—lighthearted, teasing, ridiculous.

But Ren still felt it, lingering in the back of his mind.

That strange, quiet thing.

Something he wasn't quite ready to look at yet.

.

.

The days blended into weeks as life in Konoha settled into a rhythm of training, missions, and the small moments in between. Summer's heat bore down on the village, making even the simplest tasks feel heavier, but Team Ten pushed through, each of them honing their skills in their own way.

Shikamaru, though forever complaining about effort, was showing noticeable progress. His stamina training was a slow but steady climb—begrudgingly waking up earlier to run laps around the village before sunrise, muttering under his breath the entire time. His clan techniques were also improving, his control over the Shadow Imitation Technique becoming more fluid, his reactions sharper. He still grumbled about it, of course, but there was a quiet sense of determination beneath the laziness that hadn't been there before.

Ino had thrown herself into her training with an intensity that even Ren found impressive. She had taken up strength training on top of refining her clan's techniques, often dragging Ren or Shikamaru into sparring matches just to test herself. Her dedication was paying off, and it showed—not just in the way she moved, but physically as well. Ren wasn't sure when he started noticing it. One moment, she was just Ino, and then suddenly, his eyes were catching on details he hadn't registered before—the way her stomach was more defined than before, the way her legs carried a surprising amount of power in them. The realization unsettled him for a moment— why was he noticing this? He pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to a natural awareness of his teammates. Nothing more.

His poisons were improving, though not as quickly as he wanted. He had experimented with different plant combinations, adjusting dosages, refining the balance between paralysis and lethality. The poison vines were coming along too, but they still lacked the grip strength he wanted. There was also something else he had been working on—a technique that remained frustratingly incomplete. He felt like he was on the verge of something, but every attempt ended in failure. Still, he kept at it, knowing he was close.

Meanwhile, Arato's life had taken a dramatic turn. After finally breaking the news to Tsume about his relationship with Hana, he had been subjected to an overwhelming whirlwind of Inuzuka family antics. Ren had barely been able to contain his amusement when Arato came home one evening looking utterly exhausted, his usual stoic demeanor cracked by sheer exasperation.

"I don't know how they function as a clan," he had muttered as he collapsed onto the couch. "It's like living in the middle of a hurricane."

Ren had simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"She made me wrestle the entire clan."

That had gotten a laugh out of Ren. "Sounds about right. Did you win?"

"I held my own," Arato grumbled, rubbing his shoulder as if recalling a particularly rough takedown. "But that's not the worst part. Tsume-san… she welcomed me. But not before making me go through 'initiation.'"

Ren smirked. "And that was…?"

Arato gave him a haunted look. "I don't want to talk about it."

To make matters worse—or better, depending on who you asked—Lee had finally recovered from his injuries and had immediately sought Arato out, declaring him his new 'eternal rival.' Arato, being the hothead he was, had taken the challenge head-on, much to Neji's exasperation. The three had sparred multiple times over the past weeks, and though Arato never admitted it, Ren could tell he had started looking forward to the matches.

Ren had his suspicions that Hana enjoyed watching Arato squirm a little too much, especially when she would casually remind him of all the things he used to say about her. At dinner one evening, she had leaned in, grinning mischievously.

"Ne, Arato, remember when you said I had 'dog breath and was just 'too wild to be normal'?"

Arato had nearly choked on his food. Ren had barely kept his laughter contained as his brother shot him a glare, as if daring him to say something.

"Did I?" Arato managed, clearly scrambling for a way out.

Hana didn't let him. "Mhm. And how I was 'insufferable' and 'unreasonable' and—oh, what was it?—'completely lacking in grace'?" She tapped a finger against her chin, as if in deep thought.

Arato groaned, running a hand down his face. "That was years ago. And—" He looked at Ren, then at Hana, then back at Ren. "And completely inaccurate, obviously."

Hana smirked and took a sip of her drink. "Obviously."

Ren, for once, simply sat back and enjoyed the show.

.

.

The training grounds were quieter than usual that morning, the early sun casting long shadows over the soft grass. Ren and Ino stood side by side, watching as Shizune prepared for their first lesson in medical ninjutsu. She had called for them after their return from the mission, impressed by their teamwork and recognizing potential in both of them.

Medical jutsu was a field he had already dipped his hands into, experimenting with basic healing to counteract the effects of his own poisons. But this was different. This was structure, theory, and understanding beyond his trial-and-error approach assisted by some scrolls he found.

The forest mission had made it clear—knowing how to kill wasn't enough. The sight of Shikamaru straining from overuse of his jutsu, Asuma bleeding and shielding them all, Ino barely catching her breath as she worked to stabilize their injuries—it had stayed with him. His poisons could debilitate, his vines could restrain, but what good was that if his comrades were left broken by the end of it? If he had to rely on others every time healing was required, wasn't that another weakness to be exploited?

"Before we begin," Shizune said, turning to face them, "I want to make one thing clear. Medical ninjutsu is not just about healing wounds. It's about understanding life, the body, the mind. It requires precision, patience, and discipline. Without those things, you're more likely to cause harm than good."

Ino nodded, standing with her arms crossed. Ren simply waited, absorbing her words.

"There are a few key principles you'll have to understand before we even attempt anything practical." Shizune held up a hand, counting off her fingers. "One: The chakra control needed for medical ninjutsu is incredibly refined. If you cannot control your chakra down to the smallest detail, your healing will be unstable at best and destructive at worst."

She gestured, and a faint green glow enveloped her hands. "Two: Speed matters, but reckless speed will kill your patient faster than the wound itself. You need to assess, react, and act with precision."

She turned to face them directly, eyes lingering on both of them in turn. "Not every wound is physical, either. Chakra exhaustion, trauma, and mental injuries can be just as deadly as any open wound." Her mind brought about images of Lady Tsunade and Jiraiya at this.

Ren noticed the way her expression darkened for a moment, but she quickly masked it.

Ino shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Ren, who remained silent. He understood.

"Now, for the two of you…" Shizune's expression lightened as she focused back on them. "I suspect you'll specialize in different aspects of the field. Ino, with your clan's techniques and natural chakra sensitivity, I can see you excelling in mental healing, stabilization, and battlefield triage. Keeping someone alive long enough to get proper treatment is sometimes the most important role a medic can play."

Ino straightened, clearly pleased with the assessment. "Makes sense," she said. "I already deal with people's minds. Might as well make sure they don't shatter."

Shizune turned her gaze to Ren, studying him. "And you… You already understand toxins, don't you? The properties of plants, venoms, how they break down the body?"

Ren nodded once.

"That knowledge can be turned towards healing just as easily as harm. I suspect you'll excel at vaccines, antidotes, and resistance training. A combat medic who can neutralize poisons in the field can be the difference between life and death."

That… made sense. He had never thought of it that way, but it aligned with what he had already been working towards.

"For this lesson, we start with the basics." She motioned for them to kneel before a set of small training dummies—crafted with a core of chakra-conductive material that simulated the flow of energy in a human body. "Channeling medical chakra is different from standard chakra control. It requires extreme precision. Too little, and it does nothing. Too much, and you risk accelerating the damage instead of repairing it."

Ren and Ino exchanged a glance before placing their hands over their respective dummies.

"Start by focusing your chakra to your palms. Gentle, even. Let it pool, but don't push it outward forcefully," Shizune instructed, walking around them as she observed.

Ren furrowed his brow in concentration. He had worked with chakra control extensively before—his clan techniques depended on it—but this was an entirely different kind of finesse. Poison jutsu and medical jutsu were both about precision, yet where one aimed to disrupt, the other sought to restore.

Beside him, Ino's hands glowed with an unstable green light, flickering at the edges as she tried to refine the output. She bit her lip in frustration, adjusting her focus.

"It's so delicate," she muttered under her breath.

"That's the point," Shizune remarked. "It's why only a few can truly master it. But don't be discouraged—this is just step one."

Ren's glow was steadier, but as he tried to channel it deeper into the dummy, the energy wavered. He frowned.

"Too much force," Shizune corrected, tapping his wrist lightly. "You're treating it like you would when reinforcing a vine or a weapon technique. Medical chakra isn't about dominance. It's about guidance. You don't force the body to heal—you coax it into remembering how."

Ren took a slow breath and tried again.

Minutes stretched on as they continued, adjusting and refining. It was slow work, painstaking in its detail, but Ren found himself absorbed in it.

Shizune observed them closely. She already saw the differences in their approaches—Ino's chakra had a freer flowing and soothing character, a natural extension of her Yamanaka abilities. Ren, on the other hand, had an analytical precision that leaned toward the science of healing—things that required a deeper understanding of how to fix them.

She smiled to herself. They were on the right path.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 13: Outcast

The mission began with a summons to the Hokage's office, the air inside thick with the weight of responsibility. Team 10 stood before Tsunade, her sharp golden eyes surveying them as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her desk.

"The Hidden Waterfall Village has been dealing with an outbreak of illness," she stated, her tone all business. "At first, they thought it was something natural—contaminated food or water—but the symptoms are too precise. Too deliberate. They suspect foul play. Konoha has been asked to mediate and investigate."

Shikamaru exhaled slowly, already sensing the trouble this would bring. Ino crossed her arms, furrowing her brows, while Ren remained silent, his mind turning over the implications. A widespread illness that acted like poison? It wasn't just unusual—it was calculated.

"Normally, I'd send someone with more experience in this field," Tsunade continued, shifting her gaze to Ren, "but Anko is on another mission, and your team has the right skill set. You'll need sharp thinking, diplomacy, and toxin expertise. You leave at dawn."

Beside her, Shizune handed over a scroll detailing what little information they had. "Takigakure isn't the most open with outsiders. Expect resistance."

"Great," Shikamaru muttered. "Another headache."

Tsunade smirked. "You'll manage."

Asuma, standing off to the side, finally spoke. "This won't be like your last mission. It's not just about surviving—it's about uncovering the truth before things escalate."

Ren's fingers twitched at his sides. Poison. That was his domain. If someone was weaponizing it against an entire village, he needed to see it for himself.

As Team 10 exited the Hokage's office, their next challenge loomed ahead.

The Hidden Waterfall Village awaited.

.

.

The journey was long, but compared to the suffocating horror of their last mission, it was almost pleasant. They crossed rivers via narrow rope bridges, wound through thick forests, and navigated steep cliffside trails. Takigakure's natural defenses were no joke. Unlike Konoha, which was open and well-connected, the Hidden Waterfall Village relied on isolation.

Despite being an ally of Konoha, Takigakure had always kept its distance. Its shinobi were few but fiercely protective of their secrets. Given that Team 10 was here to investigate a suspected poisoning, they weren't expecting a warm reception.

Asuma took point as they neared their destination. "Alright, listen up," he said, his tone serious. "Takigakure doesn't like outsiders meddling in their affairs. We're here as both investigators and diplomats. That means no fights, no insulting their customs, and definitely no accusations without proof."

Shikamaru sighed. "Sounds like a drag, but I get it."

Ren absorbed the information quietly, but Ino frowned. "Wait, I get why Ren and I need to be careful, but aren't you supposed to be the diplomat, sensei? You know, as the adult in the room?"

Asuma smirked around his cigarette. "Sure, but I'm also a Konoha jōnin. No matter how nice I am, they'll always suspect I have an agenda. You three, though? You might get information they wouldn't share with me. No one expects you to be dangerous."

Ren could tell Ino wasn't thrilled about that last part, but she kept her mouth shut.

As they reached the final stretch of their journey, a towering waterfall loomed ahead. Mist rose in thick plumes as water crashed into the basin below. It was a breathtaking sight—even Ren, usually indifferent to scenery, had to admit that much. But what interested him more was the hidden entrance behind the waterfall.

Just as the reports said. A village concealed behind a veil of water.

A group of shinobi emerged from the trees before they could get any closer. Their leader, a tall man clad in dark green armor, a half-mask covering his mouth, raised a hand. "State your business."

Asuma stepped forward. "Sarutobi Asuma, here on behalf of the Hokage. We're here to assist with your… situation."

The man studied them for a long moment before nodding. "You're expected. Follow me."

.

.

They were led behind the waterfall, through a well-guarded passage that opened into Takigakure itself. Unlike Konoha's open layout, Takigakure felt compact, its buildings blending seamlessly into the rock formations and waterways.

Shinobi watched them from rooftops and shaded corners. Trust was not something freely given here.

The meeting hall was a sturdy structure, built into the rock near one of the smaller waterfalls. Inside, a middle-aged man with streaks of silver in his hair waited. His uniform bore the symbol of Takigakure, his presence alone marking him as an authority figure.

"I am Ryuto, head of internal security," he introduced himself. "I assume you've been briefed on the situation?"

Asuma nodded. "We understand you're dealing with an illness that doesn't follow typical patterns. Can you give us more details?"

Ryuto's expression darkened. "Three weeks ago, civilians and shinobi alike started falling ill. At first, we thought it was seasonal, but symptoms varied. Some suffered respiratory failure, others organ pain, a few even neurological damage. Our medics found no common link—different diets, different living areas, no clear pattern. It made no sense."

He pulled out a stack of medical reports. "We ruled out an airborne virus, and nothing suggests a standard disease. But something is affecting our people, and if this continues, we could face a crisis."

Ren frowned, stepping closer. "Have you analyzed their blood? Looked for residual toxins?"

Ryuto folded his arms. "We have, but the results are inconsistent. Some victims showed elevated toxin levels, but they didn't match any known substances. Others had no toxins at all, yet suffered the same symptoms."

Ino furrowed her brows. "Then what made you suspect foul play?"

Ryuto's lips thinned. "Because some of our healthiest shinobi—trained to resist poisons—have fallen ill as well. Whatever this is, it's attacking indiscriminately, and we don't know how."

Silence settled over the room.

Shikamaru exhaled. "So, we're dealing with an unknown illness with no clear transmission method and no normal poisoning patterns."

Ryuto's eyes sharpened. "That's why we need specialists. We don't have time to waste."

.

.

After the meeting, Team 10 was escorted to their lodgings. Once they settled in, Asuma ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, we've got our work cut out for us. First priority—Ren, you'll examine the sick. Ino, you'll start gathering information. Shikamaru, you're with me. We'll look at the affected areas."

Ren nodded. "Understood."

"I'll handle it," Ino said confidently. "People don't think twice about what they say around a pretty girl."

With that, she took a more direct approach, sidling up to one of the few market stalls still open and flashing her most charming smile. "Hey there," she said, leaning casually on the stall's wooden counter. "Bit quiet today, huh?"

The vendor, a thin man with dark circles under his eyes, barely spared her a glance. "Busy," he said shortly.

Ino's smile didn't falter. "Guess that makes sense with everything going on. Must be hard, running a business with people getting sick."

That got his attention. His fingers twitched slightly before he forced them still, and his eyes darted toward the village square as if checking for something—or someone. "Don't know what you mean," he said. "Now, you buying or not?"

Ren watched as Ino hesitated for a fraction of a second before smoothly handing over some ryo and taking a small pouch of dried fruit. "Of course," she said, keeping her tone light. "Well, hope business picks up soon."

As she turned back toward them, her easygoing expression barely wavered, but Ren caught the brief flicker of frustration in her eyes.

"They're scared," she muttered under her breath as they continued walking. "Not just cautious—really scared. Did you see the way he looked at the square? Like he thought someone would see him talking to us."

"Paranoia," Shikamaru mused. "That's not just fear of sickness. That's fear of people."

Ren frowned. When people feared something invisible, something that could strike at any time, it was easy for them to turn on one another. He had a sinking feeling that the disease or whatever it is was only part of the problem here.

.

.

After leaving the hospital, Team 10 regrouped at their lodgings to share what they had learned.

"It's worse than we thought," Ren said, arms crossed. "The poison isn't acting like a normal toxin. Some people show traces of it in their system, others don't—but they still have the same symptoms. It's mutating, adapting."

Shikamaru nodded. "And the village is already on edge. The paranoia's making it worse."

Asuma exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "So we've got a poison we don't understand, a village too scared to talk, and no clear leads. Great." He turned to Ino. "You were supposed to gather information—anything useful?"

Ino frowned. "Not much. People are either too afraid to talk, or they don't know anything. But I did get something interesting from a merchant near the market square. He said there's someone in the village who hasn't been affected at all. Not even a cough."

That got Ren's attention. "A complete immunity?"

"Apparently." Ino crossed her arms. "The thing is, the merchant wouldn't even say their full name. He just said Fū, then muttered something about 'bad luck' and 'not natural.' Like people are avoiding them."

Asuma exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "An outcast, huh?"

Shikamaru frowned. "If they're completely unaffected, that's more than just luck. It could be something in their chakra, their biology—maybe they've even seen something others haven't."

"Either way, it's worth checking out," Asuma decided. He glanced at Ino. "We'll handle this one. If the villagers are scared of this person, they'll be more willing to talk to a civilian than a shinobi. Shikamaru, Ren—you two keep following the poisoning lead."

Ren nodded. "The medic at the hospital mentioned a valley outside the village. It's where most of the victims worked before they got sick."

Asuma smirked. "Good. Then we all have a job. Let's move."

.

.

The walk to the hospital took them through the quieter side of the village. The streets were narrower, the buildings older. Paranoia hung thick in the air. Shops that should have been open remained shuttered, and the few villagers outside hurried along, avoiding eye contact.

Then, up ahead, a commotion.

A woman stood in the street, gripping the arm of a struggling boy. He couldn't have been older than ten, his face red with frustration. The woman's expression, however, was tight with something much closer to fear.

"Mom, let me go! I just want to see him!" the boy shouted.

"You can't!" she snapped, dragging him back. "It's not safe!"

"But he's my friend!"

Shikamaru and Ren exchanged glances before stepping closer.

"Something wrong?" Shikamaru asked, keeping his tone casual.

The woman startled, eyes darting between them. She recognized their headbands and hesitated.

"My son's friend fell sick," she admitted in a hushed tone. "His father won't let anyone see him. Says the illness spreads that way."

Ren frowned. "That's not how most poisons work."

"You don't know that," she shot back, gripping her son's arm tighter. "People are dying, and no one knows why! We have to be careful!"

Ren opened his mouth to argue, but Shikamaru nudged him. "We're heading to the hospital anyway," he said smoothly. "We'll check on him for you."

The woman bit her lip, fear warring with hope. Finally, she nodded and pulled her son away, whispering reassurances.

As they continued, Ren exhaled. "They don't just fear the sickness. They fear each other."

Shikamaru stuffed his hands in his pockets. "That's how paranoia works. Fear makes people look for something—or someone—to blame."

Ren didn't reply. He'd seen this kind of fear before. And he knew exactly how easily it could be manipulated.

The hospital was overcrowded.

The moment they stepped inside, the sharp scent of herbs and disinfectant filled the air. Futons lined the walls, each occupied by a patient—some curled up and shivering, others unconscious, their breathing labored. The main hall had been converted into an extra ward.

A medic-nin rushed past them, balancing a tray of herbal mixtures. "If you're not injured, don't block the entrance!"

Shikamaru muttered something about being in the way and moved aside, but Ren had already stepped forward.

"Wait," he said. "Let me help."

The medic gave him an incredulous look, then her eyes caught his headband. "You're with Konoha?"

"Yes. I have experience with poisons."

She hesitated, then shoved the tray into his hands. "Fine. If you can help, do it. But don't slow me down."

Ren wasted no time. He knelt beside one of the patients, a middle-aged man with faintly bluish skin, his breath shallow, sweat beading on his forehead. Ren pressed two fingers to his pulse, focusing chakra into the touch.

It was sluggish. Too sluggish.

"This isn't just poison," he murmured. "Something's attacking the nervous system."

The medic frowned. "We've tried everything—chakra purging, herbal antidotes, even external detox methods. Nothing lasts. Some patients improve for a few hours, then relapse."

Ren's hands twitched as an idea formed. If the poison was constantly adapting, maybe that was why treatments weren't working. Could it be—

"Ren."

Shikamaru's voice cut through his thoughts.

Ren looked up. Shikamaru stood by the doorway, arms crossed, expression serious.

"You're treating the symptoms," he said. "But if we don't find the source, more people will just keep getting sick."

Ren clenched his jaw. He knew that. But seeing these people suffer—how could he just walk away?

Shikamaru sighed. "I get it. But if you're going to fight this poison, fight it the right way. We need to know where it's coming from first."

Ren exhaled sharply, then handed the tray back to the medic. "We'll be back," he told her. "But I need more information first."

She nodded, though skepticism lingered in her gaze. "Then I suggest you start with the eastern valley. Some of the earliest cases worked around there before falling sick. We couldn't find anything definitive there though"

.

.

While Ren and Shikamaru worked in the hospital, Asuma and Ino made their way to the outskirts of the village.

Finding the outcast wasn't hard. She stood out.

The girl was perched on the edge of a bridge, idly tossing small pebbles into the rushing river below. Her hair, a striking shade of green, caught the morning light, and her orange clothing contrasted starkly against the muted tones of the village. But what stood out most was her demeanor—unlike the fearful villagers, Fū looked completely at ease.

Ino approached first. "Hey! You are Fū, right?"

Fū turned, blinking at them. Then she grinned. "Hey! You're the Konoha people!"

Ino blinked at how casual she was. "Uh, yeah. We were told you might know something about what's been happening."

Fū's grin faded just slightly. "Maybe. Depends on what you're asking."

Asuma took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling. "Let's start with the basics. You're an outsider here, right? What do you see that the others don't?"

Fū tilted her head. "I see a lot of things." She twirled a pebble between her fingers. "Like how people think I'm evil and bad luck just because I don't get sick."

Ino frowned. "Wait. You haven't gotten sick at all?"

Fū grinned again, but this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nope! Guess I'm just special."

There was something about the way she said it—flippant, but with an underlying weight—that made Ino pause.

"People think you're involved, don't they?" she asked quietly.

Fū's smile thinned. "They think a lot of things."

Ino exchanged a glance with Asuma. This was going to be trickier than she thought.

The conversation was going nowhere.

Fū was talkative, cheerful even, but it was all surface-level. She dodged their questions with playful vagueness, and while she wasn't exactly lying, she wasn't being entirely forthcoming either. Asuma could tell she was holding something back.

Before Ino could try another approach, a sharp scream tore through the air.

All three of them turned toward the sound. A child, no older than seven, had been playing near the riverbank when the wooden planks beneath his feet gave way. He tumbled into the churning water, his tiny arms flailing as the current yanked him downstream.

The villagers froze.

"Someone—!" a woman gasped, but no one moved.

The river was swollen from recent rains, and its currents were merciless. Even an adult wouldn't stand a chance if they were caught in it.

Fū moved before anyone else could react.

She leapt into the air—and didn't fall immediately.

For a moment, she seemed to glide, her momentum carrying her forward almost unnaturally. It wasn't flight, not exactly, but it was as if the wind itself had caught her, slowing her descent just enough for her to angle herself toward the river.

She hit the water, and something shifted. The currents, wild and untamed just moments before, seemed to bend around her, as though repelled by an invisible force. She sliced through them effortlessly, her movements far too fluid to be natural.

Then, just as she reached the boy, a sudden updraft surged beneath her. The water foamed violently, and with a single powerful kick, she launched herself up and out of the river, landing on the shore with the child cradled in her arms.

The entire thing had taken seconds.

The boy coughed, sputtering, and she crouched to help him sit up. "Breathe, kiddo," she said, patting his back. "You're alright now."

He gasped for air, clinging to her in shock.

But the murmurs had already started.

"Did you see that?"

"That wasn't normal…monster I say..."

"She barely sank at all. And the way the river moved—"

One of the older villagers let out a sharp hiss through his teeth. "That girl… she's trouble. She always has been. Should be kept outside the village"

"Monsters save people sometimes," another muttered darkly. "Doesn't mean they aren't monsters."

Fū stiffened. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Asuma caught it.

Then, just like that, she forced a bright, carefree grin onto her face. "Well, that was exciting!" she said, clapping her hands together. "Anyway, you guys were asking me stuff, right? What was it again?"

Asuma took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He had seen this kind of reaction before—subtle chakra control over the air, the water reacting unnaturally, the way she was both feared and avoided. He could put the pieces together.

This girl is a Jinchūriki.

And the villagers knew.

He exhaled slowly. If he said the wrong thing, it would make her life even harder. If he outright asked, she might shut down completely.

Instead, he gave her an easy smirk. "You've got some strong instincts, kid. Not bad."

Fū blinked at him, then grinned back—this time, it was real. "I know, right?"

.

.

Ren and Shikamaru moved carefully through the valley, the dense undergrowth swallowing their footsteps. The deeper they went, the stronger the wrongness in the air became—something bitter, faintly metallic.

Poison.

Shikamaru crouched beside a patch of disturbed soil, rubbing a handful between his fingers. "This spot's drier than the rest. Something was absorbed here."

Ren knelt beside him, eyes narrowing at the wilted plants nearby. Their leaves had curled inward, their stems blackened. He reached for one, rolling the brittle remains between his fingers.

"Slow-acting toxin," he murmured. "Something designed to spread gradually. If this was just a dumping ground, the damage would be more concentrated." He exhaled. "They're being careful."

Shikamaru frowned. "That means this isn't just a random attack. Whoever did this has been here long enough to control how the poison spreads."

They followed the faint trail further, passing by more withered plant life, until they reached a shallow stream. The water was clear at first glance, but as Ren knelt to inspect it, he noticed something unusual—small traces of residue clinging to the edges of submerged stones, faintly iridescent in the dim light.

He pulled out a vial and carefully scraped some of the residue inside. Holding it up to the light, he frowned. "This isn't a natural contaminant. The concentration is low, but it's… layered. Like it's being introduced in intervals, not all at once."

Shikamaru sighed. "So they're dosing it over time, letting it work its way through the ecosystem. That explains why the effects in the village aren't consistent."

Ren exhaled, gripping the vial tightly. "This wasn't done overnight. It's been going on for a while."

Shikamaru crossed his arms. "Which means someone has been operating inside Takigakure long enough to set this up unnoticed."

Ren looked toward the path ahead, where the poisoned water trickled further into the valley.

"We need to find out where it's coming from," he muttered.

.

.

Meanwhile, at the outskirts of Takigakure, Fū stretched out on her porch, idly tossing a pebble between her hands as she studied Ino and Asuma. "So, lemme guess. You guys aren't here for the scenery?"

Asuma exhaled a slow puff of smoke. "We're investigating the illness spreading through the village. Word is, you see more than most."

Fū grinned, kicking her feet playfully. "Ohhh, word is, huh? Funny. People usually don't think I'm worth asking."

Ino sighed, crossing her arms. "Look, we don't care about village gossip. We just want to know if you've noticed anything strange."

Fū tilted her head, thinking. "Strange like… a bunch of guys sneaking around where they shouldn't be?"

Asuma raised an eyebrow. "That'd be a good start."

Fū tapped her chin, then stood up and ducked inside her hut. A moment later, she returned and tossed something toward Ino.

Ino caught it— a scrap of dark green fabric, slightly torn, with a strange insignia stitched into the corner.

"Found that near the valley," Fū said. "Didn't belong to any villagers. Too nice for a farmer, too reinforced for casual wear."

Asuma turned the cloth over in his hands, studying the material. "Shinobi-grade fabric."

"Yup." Fū plopped back down. "I saw some guys sneaking around a few nights ago. Real quiet, real careful. They weren't from around here. And one of them had these weird little bottles. He spilled something, and—" She gestured vaguely with her hand. "The ground got all sick-looking real fast."

Ino's brows furrowed. "So they're using small doses."

"Looks that way." Fū rocked back on her hands. "Figured no one would believe me, though, so I didn't bother saying much."

Asuma gave her a long look. "Why wouldn't they believe you?"

Fū's grin was sharp. "Because I don't get sick. And people don't like things they can't explain."

Ino studied her for a moment. "That why they don't come near you?"

Fū's grin didn't waver, but her voice was softer when she replied, "People like to blame things. And I'm easy to blame."

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Finally, Asuma folded the cloth and tucked it into his pocket. "You've been a big help."

Fū blinked, like she wasn't expecting genuine gratitude. Then she waved a hand. "No problem! Just don't go spreading my name around too much, yeah? I like my quiet life."

Ino rolled her eyes. "Sure, quiet."

Fū just laughed.

But as Ino and Asuma walked away, Ino couldn't shake the feeling that Fū was more involved in this than she let on.

"That scrap of fabric," Ino said, glancing toward Asuma. "Think it matches anything we've seen before?"

Asuma rubbed his chin. "Not from any standard Takigakure uniform. But it could belong to someone hired from outside the village."

Ino exhaled. "Outsiders sneaking around, carrying poison… that means this isn't just an accident. Someone wants this village to suffer."

Asuma nodded. "And now we need to figure out why."

.

.

Ren and Shikamaru followed the poisoned stream back toward the village, their evidence secured. The broken vial and contaminated soil samples weren't enough to prove who was behind this, but they were pieces of the puzzle.

"You think this was just a test?" Shikamaru asked as they walked.

Ren frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The poison. If they were just trying to wipe people out, they'd have used something faster, more aggressive. Instead, they're doing this gradually, in controlled amounts. Like they're… experimenting."

Ren felt his grip tighten around the vial. Again with experimenting.

That word lingered in his mind, unsettling him through the memories of the forest.

Shikamaru sighed. "If this is just a small-scale test, then whatever comes next is going to be worse."

Ren looked down at the vial in his hands, the dried poison inside shimmering faintly in the light.

This wasn't just about Takigakure anymore.

They had to be prepared.

Chapter Text

Nightshade

Chapter 14: The Walls we build within

The village of Takigakure had a distinct atmosphere, one that had little to do with its cascading waterfalls or the constant mist hanging in the air. It was the way people carried themselves—the subtle tension in their shoulders, the way conversations hushed when a foreign shinobi passed by. Takigakure was a village that kept to itself, its people eyeing strangers with a quiet wariness, as if expecting trouble to follow them.

Ino could feel it.

She leaned against the wooden railing of a small bridge, overlooking the river winding through the village's center. The water was a dark, glassy blue, reflecting the lantern light from the streets above. A short distance away, Fū sat perched on the same railing, legs swinging carelessly, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

But Ino had spent enough time watching people to recognize when someone was putting on a show.

"So, is this how you pass the time?" Ino asked, shifting her weight slightly. "Sitting around and staring at the water?"

Fū huffed. "It's better than dealing with the people here."

Ino arched a brow. "They don't like you?"

"They tolerate me," Fū corrected. "As long as I don't make trouble. As long as I don't remind them that I exist too much."

There was a strange bitterness to her words, but she said them with a lopsided grin, as if she had long since accepted it. Ino didn't like that.

"I don't get it," she said. "You're friendly enough. What's their problem?"

Fū shrugged. "I'm… different."

Ino made a face. "That's vague."

"It's complicated."

Ino crossed her arms. "Try me."

Fū tilted her head, orange eyes glinting with amusement. "You're persistent."

"Call it a personality trait."

Fū let out a small laugh, though there was something cautious in the way she glanced at Ino, like she wasn't used to people pushing past the surface. "You really wanna know? Fine. People in this village don't make friends easily. Trust is a rare thing here."

"I noticed," Ino muttered.

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly fit in. I've always been... on the outside." Fū kicked at the air, voice more casual than it should have been. "You ever had that feeling? Like you're part of something, but not really in it?"

Ino hesitated.

She thought of Team 10. She loved them—they were her team, her closest friends. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wondered if she truly understood them. Shikamaru had his lazy genius way of thinking, always ten steps ahead, always with a plan. Chōji had his quiet strength, his loyalty unwavering. And her? She was there. She played her role, filled the gaps, but… did they need her the way she needed them?

"I guess," Ino admitted. "But I don't think it's the same for me. I have my team. My friends."

Fū's expression flickered. "That must be nice."

"You don't have anyone?"

Fū paused, then shook her head with an exaggerated motion. "Nope! Just me, myself, and I."

Ino frowned. "That's kind of sad."

"Not really," Fū said with a smirk. "It means I don't have to worry about people turning on me. Or leaving."

There it was again—that defensive edge hidden beneath her cheerful tone. Ino recognized it because she had seen it before, in people who pretended they were fine being alone.

"Still," Ino said, nudging Fū's shoulder with her own, "everyone needs someone. You could have friends if you wanted."

Fū blinked at her, surprised by the casual gesture. Then she snorted. "You offering, Yamanaka?"

Ino smirked. "Maybe."

Fū stared at her for a second longer before laughing, the sound lighter this time, more real. "You're weird."

"I've been called worse," Ino said breezily.

For the first time since they'd started talking, Fū looked at her without the usual guarded playfulness. It was a small shift, but Ino noticed it. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see her as something other than an outsider.

Before the conversation could continue, a voice interrupted.

"Ino."

She turned to see Asuma approaching, his usual relaxed posture slightly more serious than normal.

"Time to regroup," he said, sparing Fū a glance before focusing on his student. "Shikamaru and Ren found something."

Ino straightened. "Got it."

Fū hopped off the railing, stretching her arms over her head. "Guess the fun's over."

"For now," Ino said. Then, on impulse, she added, "See you later?"

Fū blinked, then grinned. "Sure. I'd like that"

Asuma didn't comment as they walked back, but Ino could feel his gaze on her. She wasn't sure why she'd made the effort to connect with Fū. Maybe because she reminded her of someone who had spent too long keeping people at arm's length.

Maybe because she didn't like seeing someone act like being alone was the same as being free.

.

.

The streets of Takigakure were quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that carried tension, the kind that came from people watching without wanting to be seen.

Ren walked beside Shikamaru, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. They had spent the better part of the evening following leads, but everything felt… off.

"This village is hiding something," Ren murmured.

Shikamaru sighed. "Yeah, no kidding."

They had spoken to merchants, villagers, even a few shinobi, but the answers they received were always carefully neutral. No one wanted to say too much. No one wanted to be involved.

Shikamaru exhaled through his nose. "The pieces don't fit. If someone is poisoning the water supply, it's being done carefully. There's no recklessness, no sudden mass illness, just slow, quiet damage. That's not the work of amateurs."

Ren's expression darkened. "You think it's an inside job?"

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. "I think someone knows more than they're letting on."

Ren didn't respond immediately. His mind was already shifting through possibilities, assessing the situation with a methodical precision that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"The poison—" he started, then paused. "It feels somewhat familiar."

Shikamaru glanced at him. "How familiar?"

Ren didn't answer right away. He wasn't sure. There was something about it, something in the way it was affecting the environment, in the subtlety of its use. It tugged at the edges of his memory, but he couldn't place why.

Yet.

"We need more information," he said finally.

"Yeah," Shikamaru muttered. "And I have a feeling getting it won't be easy."

.

.

The meeting took place in a small rented room near the village's central district. It was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and faint traces of smoke from Asuma's cigarette. A worn-out map of Takigakure was spread across the table, marked with a few notes and scrawled lines where they had begun tracking reports of sickness.

Shikamaru sat with his arms crossed, staring at the map with a furrowed brow. "Alright, let's go over what we've got so far."

Ino, perched on the edge of the table, exhaled sharply. "Not much."

"We know that the poison isn't being dumped into the water all at once," Ren said, fingers drumming against his arm. "It's slow, precise. That means someone's maintaining it, which also means there's a pattern to follow."

Shikamaru sighed. "Except we haven't found that pattern yet."

"The villagers aren't helping," Ino muttered, arms crossed. "They're not hostile, but they're wary. Some don't want to talk, and others don't even realize they're sick."

"That part makes sense," Asuma said, exhaling smoke. "They're a hidden village, smaller than the great nations, wedged between stronger forces. They have every reason to avoid outside attention."

"They're also afraid," Ren added, his expression unreadable. "Not just of us, but of what's happening. And the fact that no one's been able to stop it."

Shikamaru rubbed his temples. "So we've got a slow-acting poison, a cautious village, and no obvious culprit."

"The real question," Asuma said, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray, "is whether this is a political move, a personal grudge, or something else entirely."

A quiet settled over them for a moment.

Eventually, Ino straightened, pushing off the table. "Sitting here won't get us answers. We need to split up and press for more leads."

Shikamaru sighed, but nodded. "Yeah. We'll cover more ground that way. But don't push too hard—if we make the wrong people nervous, we might end up with no leads at all."

Asuma exhaled a slow stream of smoke. He glanced at each of them, measuring their states of mind. Shikamaru was frustrated but engaged. Ino was impatient but determined. Ren, however, was quieter than usual, his fingers tapping lightly against his arm in a slow, absent rhythm.

"Ino, you and Shikamaru will keep working on the villagers. See if you can find anyone willing to talk about what's been happening beyond the obvious. Rumors, unusual behavior, old feuds—whatever might give us a lead."

Ino scoffed. "Because that's been working so well."

Shikamaru shot her a look. "We'll manage."

Asuma continued, "Ren, you're with me. We're going to take another look at where the poison is being introduced. We've got fragments of a pattern, but we're still missing the 'how' and 'why.' If we can figure that out, we might be able to guess the 'who.'"

Ren gave a slight nod, but his expression remained distant.

"Stay subtle," Asuma reminded them all. "We might be guests here, but we're still outsiders. Let's not give the village a reason to start pushing back harder."

With that, the team gathered their things and slipped out of the rented room, stepping into the cool evening air of Takigakure. The streets were still active but subdued, the occasional flicker of torchlight reflecting off the water channels weaving through the village. Without a word, they split off in opposite directions.

.

.

The streets of Takigakure had begun to empty as Asuma and Ren made their way through the village, the sounds of distant waterwheels and flowing rivers filling the silence. The evening air carried the scent of damp earth and wet stone, a constant reminder of how intertwined the village was with its waterways.

Ren walked slightly behind Asuma, his mind churning with possibilities. He already had a sample of the poisoned water. He knew the contamination was coming from the groundwater. But what they still lacked was the who and how.

Asuma slowed his pace as they approached a series of stone wells, each one covered with a wooden grate. Some of them were used for drinking, others for irrigation, and a few were simply runoff channels for excess rain.

"Alright, Ren," Asuma said, resting a hand on one of the well covers. "Walk me through this."

Ren blinked, then frowned. "Through what?"

Asuma rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. If you were the one poisoning this village, how would you do it?"

Ren hesitated. The question shouldn't have unsettled him, but it did.

He took a breath and forced himself to think tactically. "Groundwater contamination like this doesn't happen overnight," he said slowly. "Whoever's doing this isn't just throwing poison into the river. It has to be introduced in a way that maintains its potency but stays undetected."

Asuma nodded. "And?"

Ren crouched near the well cover, pressing his palm lightly against the damp stone. "The most effective method would be a slow-release mechanism. Something hidden inside the groundwater system, where it leaches out in controlled amounts." He exhaled. "Which means they either have access to a direct source of the groundwater… or they're using natural filtration points."

Asuma smirked slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Now you're thinking like a real tracker."

Ren looked up at him, skeptical.

Asuma chuckled. "The real question is: How much does our culprit know?"

Ren frowned. "What do you mean?"

Asuma gestured vaguely to the well. "We know this isn't random. If it were, there'd be more variation—more inconsistency in who gets sick. But someone's controlling the distribution, which means they know how Takigakure's water system works. That's not common knowledge."

Ren's stomach twisted slightly. "So they're either a local… or they had help."

Asuma nodded. "And if they had help, it means there's a reason they're doing this beyond just causing chaos."

Ren clenched his jaw. That was the part that was bothering him. Poisoning water supplies wasn't unheard of—it was an effective sabotage tactic. But this felt… different.

Intentional.

Targeted.

Asuma watched Ren's expression darken and nudged him lightly with his elbow. "You're doing that thing again where you get stuck in your own head."

Ren blinked. "What?"

Asuma smirked. "You overthink. It's a good trait for someone in your line of work, but if you're not careful, it'll paralyze you."

Ren exhaled sharply through his nose. "I don't—"

"You do," Asuma said simply. "And if you don't learn how to balance it, it's going to get you killed."

Ren looked away. He wanted to argue, but… Asuma wasn't wrong.

The older man sighed, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Come on. We need to check the outskirts. If our culprit is using a hidden filtration system, there has to be a point of entry somewhere."

Ren forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. There was still too much they didn't know.

And the longer they searched, the more he had the sinking feeling that he wasn't going to like what they found.

.

.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the village, Ino and Shikamaru moved through the marketplace, their eyes scanning the thinning evening crowd. Takigakure's people weren't outright hostile, but there was a closed-off wariness in the way they held themselves.

This wasn't just about poison. It wasn't just about fear.

It was about the village itself.

"Think we'll get anything useful this time?" Ino muttered.

Shikamaru gave her a flat look. "Optimism isn't your strong suit, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't like wasting time."

Shikamaru sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "We need a different angle. They're not going to hand over information just because we ask nicely."

"Then what do you suggest, oh genius?"

Shikamaru's gaze flicked toward a small group of villagers clustered near the entrance of a teahouse. Their voices were low, but they weren't speaking about trade or daily life.

"…another one?"

"…but they weren't even—"

"…nothing we can do…"

Shikamaru nudged Ino lightly with his elbow. "That."

They made their way toward the teahouse, moving casually but with purpose. Ino adjusted her expression, softening her usual sharpness into something more approachable.

"Excuse me," she said lightly, stepping just close enough to be acknowledged without being intrusive. "I couldn't help but overhear. Is something wrong?"

The group of villagers fell silent, exchanging glances.

"Not your concern," one muttered, already turning away.

Ino didn't let the rejection faze her. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, shifting her approach. "We're trying to help. But we can't do that if we don't understand what's really happening here."

Silence.

Then, a woman—older, with tired eyes—sighed. "Even if you wanted to help, it wouldn't matter."

Shikamaru stepped in. "Why not?"

The woman hesitated.

"…Because whoever is doing this isn't just poisoning people." Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her sleeve. "They're choosing who suffers."

A cold chill ran through Ino's spine.

"What do you mean?"

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's not random. It's not just the water. Certain people—certain families—are getting sick faster than others."

Ino and Shikamaru exchanged a sharp glance.

This wasn't just an attack.

This was targeted.

And that meant someone had a motive.

.

.

Their search took them to the edge of the village, where the land sloped downward into dense vegetation. Unlike the main river, the water here was slow-moving, pooling in areas before disappearing underground.

Ren knelt near one of these pools, brushing his fingers over the surface. "This is connected to the underground channels," he murmured. "If someone wanted to introduce something before it reached the village, this would be the place to do it."

Asuma crouched beside him. "And yet, no obvious signs of tampering."

Ren narrowed his eyes. "Not here."

He scanned the area, his gaze settling on an outcropping of rock a short distance away. There was something unnatural about the way the vegetation clustered around it—too thick, too deliberate.

Without a word, he moved toward it, pushing aside the tangled vines.

Beneath them, partially buried in the earth, was an old, rusted grate.

Asuma let out a low whistle. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

Ren's pulse quickened. This wasn't just an old drainage tunnel—this was a deliberate access point.

Someone had been using this.

Asuma clapped a hand on Ren's shoulder. "We're onto something. Let's regroup with the others."

Ren hesitated for only a second before nodding.

They weren't done yet.

Not even close.

.

.

The team reconvened in their rented room, their expressions tense but focused. Fū was also there, wanting to help them after her talk with Ino.

"So? Got anything good?" she asked.

Ino crossed her arms. "More than we had before. This isn't random—certain families are being targeted."

Shikamaru nodded. "Which means there's a bigger motive than just spreading sickness."

Ren placed a hand on the table. "And Asuma and I found an old access tunnel outside the village. It's possible that's where the poison is being introduced."

Fū tilted her head. "So you found the 'where.' Any luck on the 'who'?"

Silence.

That was the missing piece.

Shikamaru sighed. "Whoever's doing this knows exactly how the water moves through the village. That's not common knowledge."

Ren exhaled. "Which means it's either someone local… or someone who learned from a local."

Asuma crossed his arms. "And if they're targeting specific families, we need to figure out why."

The room fell silent.

Ren's stomach twisted.

The answer to that question… might be exactly what they needed to figure out who was behind this.

.

.

The streets of Takigakure felt quieter than before, the weight of unanswered questions settling over the village like mist. Ren walked alongside Asuma, his brows furrowed in thought. The poisoned groundwater was already confirmed, and he had a sample to analyze further—but something about the method still gnawed at him.

"I keep going over it in my head," Ren muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't just some reckless sabotage. Even with groundwater spreading it, there should be some evidence of where it was first introduced."

Asuma took a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully. "So that means whoever is behind this isn't just dumping poison in random spots. They know the village's water system well enough to hide it." He looked over at Ren. "You said the formula felt… familiar?"

Ren hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. It's not an exact match to anything I know, but the structure—it follows techniques my clan once used." His voice dropped slightly, almost like he was admitting something shameful. "But it's been altered. The toxicity is refined, prolonged. Whoever made it isn't just experimenting—they understand how to fine-tune the effects."

Asuma hummed in acknowledgment. "And that scares you."

Ren shot him a sharp look, but Asuma's expression was unreadable. Not accusing, not pitying—just observing.

"I don't know if 'scared' is the right word," Ren muttered, but the way his shoulders tensed suggested otherwise. "It's frustrating. If it really is someone from my clan, I should be able to recognize their work. But I can't."

"That's not a failure on your part," Asuma said simply. "You're still learning, still figuring out your own way forward. No one expects you to have all the answers." He flicked the remains of his cigarette away. "But what you do know is already valuable. We can use that to get ahead of whoever's behind this."

Ren let out a slow breath. "I guess. I just hate not knowing why. What's the end goal? Poisoning a village's water isn't subtle. Sooner or later, people would notice the pattern. What do they gain from this?"

"That's what we're going to figure out," Asuma said. "You're already onto something important—their method. If we understand how they're doing it, we can start narrowing down who has the knowledge and why they're applying it like this."

Ren nodded, feeling a bit steadier. Asuma had a way of keeping things grounded, of making even the most tangled problems feel manageable.

The pieces were there. They just needed to fit them together.

.

.

When Team 10 gathered again, the tension in the air was palpable. Ren and Asuma arrived first, followed shortly by Shikamaru and Ino. Fū sat nearby, legs dangling off the edge of a wooden railing, watching them curiously.

"We've got more pieces, but they're still scattered," Shikamaru started, rubbing his temple. "The sickness is definitely targeting certain areas more than others. It's not random."

"We noticed that too," Ino added. "And we learned something else—Takigakure's leadership is divided. Some of the council members are downplaying the situation, probably to avoid panic."

Ren frowned. "That makes it easier for the culprits to keep operating under the radar."

"Exactly," Ino said. "And it gets worse. Some of the villagers we talked to think this isn't just some accident or sabotage. They're afraid it's punishment."

Ren's brows knit together. "Punishment? From who?"

Fū, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "Takigakure's got a history of screwing people over," she said bluntly. "Not everyone's loyal to the village. And not everyone's wanted in the village."

Her words hung in the air for a moment.

Ino watched her with a hint of sadness.

Fū continued. "Taki's leaders have a habit of throwing their own under the bus when it suits them. There've been other betrayals. Other people who've disappeared." She swung her legs idly. "I'm guessing whoever's behind this? They've got a grudge. And from what you're saying, they know exactly how to hit back."

Ren exchanged a glance with Asuma. A rogue element with knowledge of Takigakure's infrastructure, a refined poison with roots in his own clan's techniques, and a village with plenty of buried grudges.

.

.

The night air was thick with tension as Team 10 weighed their next move. They needed more than just pieces of the puzzle—they needed the full picture.

Shikamaru sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Alright. We need to go deeper. If this is revenge, then the people responsible were wronged by the village in some way. That means history holds the answer."

Ino crossed her arms. "So where do we start?"

Fū tilted her head. "You could try the archives, but good luck getting permission. The higher-ups guard that stuff like treasure."

"Not surprising," Asuma said. "But there might be other ways in. Ren, you said the poison's structure feels familiar. If it is connected to your clan, maybe there's something in old records that can help us pinpoint who might be behind this."

Ren nodded slowly. "I can check."

"And in the meantime," Shikamaru added, "Ino and I will keep pressing the locals. Someone has to know something useful."

The plan was set. But as the team split once more, an unspoken tension lingered.

This wasn't just about uncovering the truth anymore.

It was about whether or not Takigakure was ready to face the ghosts of its past.

.

.

Takigakure was quieter at night, but never silent. The constant rush of water filled the air, making it easier for a trained shinobi to move unseen.

From their vantage point atop a low building, Team 10 studied the target—a modest but well-guarded archive nestled near the village's administrative district. Unlike Konoha, where records were kept deep within the Hokage's Tower, Takigakure's reliance on water security meant their most valuable documents were stored in buildings surrounded by natural barriers.

Ren frowned. "Three guards. One at the entrance, another circling the perimeter, and a third on the roof."

Shikamaru exhaled through his nose. "They're using a rotational pattern. If we time it right, we can slip in when the rooftop guard moves to the north side."

Ino nodded. "I'll handle the one at the door."

She formed a seal, her body slumping as her consciousness leapt into the guard. A moment later, he turned stiffly to the side passage.

"I think I saw something," the man muttered, his voice slightly off. "Go check it out."

The second guard hesitated. "You sure?"

"Just do it."

Grumbling, the second sentry disappeared into the alley.

That left only the rooftop shinobi.

Ren pulled a kunai and pressed it against his wrist, slicing just deep enough to draw blood. He flicked his fingers, sending a few crimson droplets high into the air. They landed soundlessly on the roof tiles behind the remaining guard.

The man tensed, instinctively turning toward the motion. A second later, Shikamaru's shadow shot up the wall, binding him in place.

"Go," he whispered.

Ren and Ino slipped into the archives.

.

.

The room smelled of damp parchment and aged wood. Lanterns flickered dimly in the corners, casting long shadows across rows of scrolls and bound ledgers.

Ren and Shikamaru moved quickly. There was no way to know when the guards would return, and lingering too long risked discovery.

"Search for records on recent rogue activity," Shikamaru murmured. "Something that explains how this poison is spreading."

Ren ran his fingers over the bindings, selecting a ledger marked Personnel & Missing-nin Cases. He unfurled it carefully, scanning the contents.

Names scrolled past, some crossed out, others marked with brief status updates. One section caught his eye:

Recent Defections & Criminal Activity

Hisato Takatori – Status: Missing-nin (Defected two years ago. Killed two council members. Skilled in close combat.)

Renga Takatori – Status: Missing-nin (Defected alongside Hisato. Claimed betrail of village. Last seen near the outer forests.)

Unknown foreign shinobi – Unverified Sightings (Spotted near border villages. Possible smuggler or hired operative.)

Ren frowned. "Takatori brothers. I don't recognize the name."

Shikamaru peered over his shoulder. "Neither do I. But two missing-nin working together? That's not a coincidence."

Ren flipped to another page, this one listing possible hideouts. His heart skipped as he saw a mention of underground passages.

Known Escape Routes & Smuggling Tunnels

Underwater tunnel system connecting outer cliffs.

Collapsed passage leading to abandoned supply caches.

Submerged caverns suspected to contain old smuggling routes.

"This," Ren muttered, tapping the first entry. "If someone is moving in and out of the village without being seen, this is how."

Shikamaru studied the map attached to the document. "Looks like some of the tunnels are still intact. If these missing-nin are hiding, they're probably using one of these routes."

They were getting close.

.

.

Ren carefully rolled up the documents, ready to slip them into his pouch, when Ino stiffened.

"Someone's coming," she whispered.

Ren tensed. Footsteps approached from the hallway. Two distinct sets, slow and deliberate. Not a patrol—if that were the case, they would have passed through already. These guards were looking for something.

Shikamaru's fingers twitched, readying his shadow. Ino's eyes flicked to a shelf behind them.

No time.

They moved silently, slipping behind the rows of scrolls just as the door creaked open.

A voice muttered, "Someone's been here."

Ren held his breath. From the gap between scrolls, he could make out the figures—a pair of Takigakure shinobi, one of them flipping through a ledger.

"No documents missing," the first guard said. "But this cabinet was opened recently."

The second man grunted. "Could be a clerk. Or—" He turned, scanning the room. Ren swore his gaze lingered on their hiding place for a second too long.

Then he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Keep the door sealed after this."

The two men left, and the door clicked shut.

Ren exhaled. Shikamaru nudged him. "Time to go."

They retraced their steps, slipping out as silently as they had entered. By the time the guards returned for their next sweep, Team 10 was already gone.

.

.

They laid out their findings.

"The Takatori brothers could be involved, they have knowledge of the tunnels and bad blood with some members of Taki," Ino said. "But they're likely not working alone."

Ren frowned at the nameless mention in the rogue list. The "unknown foreign shinobi" could be anyone. A hired mercenary, an old contact, maybe just a smuggler trying to make a profit.

He didn't consider, even for a second, that it could be someone connected to him.

Shikamaru tapped the map. "The tunnels are our best lead. If someone is using them, we need to check it out."

Fū, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. "I've heard of those tunnels. Most of them are too dangerous to use, but if someone is down there…"

Ren nodded. "Then that's where we go next."