345-Tell Me What You Did

Renjiro barely had time to register the shift in the atmosphere before he found himself standing in a dimly lit room. The sudden change from the open air to the confining walls disoriented him momentarily. The faint smell of damp stone mixed with something metallic, perhaps rust or dried blood, lingered in the air. A single flickering lantern hung from a nail in the wall, casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the cracked concrete floor.

The room was sparse, almost claustrophobic. The walls, constructed from thick stone slabs, were stained with dark streaks that hinted at years of neglect. A battered wooden table with mismatched chairs sat off to one side, one leg propped up by a small stack of paper. The air was heavy, tinged with a silence that seemed deliberately imposed. This was no ordinary room, and it certainly wasn't one Renjiro recognized.

"Where are we?" Renjiro's voice was muffled behind his ANBU mask, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the space.

Jiraiya grinned, his casual demeanor at odds with their surroundings. "Not my office, if that's what you were expecting," he said, leaning casually against the wall. His white hair seemed to glow faintly in the lantern light, but his eyes betrayed a seriousness that Renjiro seldom saw. "This place is... off the grid. Let's just say no one can eavesdrop on us here."

Renjiro frowned beneath his mask. He extended his chakra field instinctively, allowing it to ripple outward. To his shock, it stopped dead against the walls of the room. His eyes widened slightly as he tried again, this time focusing harder. The result was the same—his chakra field was trapped within the confines of the room.

"What the..." he muttered, his hands tightening into fists.

"Relax," Jiraiya said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm not imprisoning you. This is just the only place we can talk without worrying about prying eyes—or ears."

Renjiro glanced around again, his gaze settling on the lantern's flickering flame. So this is a prison, huh? he thought, the irony not lost on him. The walls weren't just physical barriers; they were infused with seals designed to isolate chakra. Whoever had designed this place had ensured that no jutsu or sensory technique could penetrate it.

Jiraiya pulled out one of the mismatched chairs and sat down, gesturing for Renjiro to take the other. "Now," he began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "were you attacked on your way to Kumogakure?" 

Renjiro hesitated for a moment, gauging the question. His eyes narrowed slightly, keeping his posture alert. "Yes," he said finally.

"How did you know?"

Jiraiya sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "Because after you left for the mission, the village received word that your mission had been leaked. The details were somehow divulged to Kumogakure and Kirigakure."

Renjiro's hands tightened into fists beneath his cloak. "Leaked," he muttered, the word laced with anger. "And yet the mission wasn't called off?"

"We didn't know until you were already on the move," Jiraiya said, his tone apologetic but firm.

"So Kumo knew that I was going to their grounds for a mission but that was not an issue?" Renjiro asked.

"What? You can't take care of yourself?" Jiraiya asked

Renjiro exhaled sharply, "I was attacked twice. Once by a team from Kumogakure and then by Kirigakure shinobi lying in wait." He reached beneath his cloak, retrieving two storage scrolls. He slid them across the table to Jiraiya.

"Their bodies are sealed in these."

Jiraiya picked up the scrolls, inspecting them briefly before setting them aside. "Good work. I assume you left no survivors?"

Renjiro's voice was flat. "No survivors."

There was a long silence as Jiraiya studied Renjiro, his expression unreadable. "And...?" Renjiro prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"And what?" Jiraiya asked, tilting his head.

"Did the village take any action?" Renjiro's tone carried a hint of irritation.

Jiraiya sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "No," he admitted.

Renjiro's fists clenched, his patience wearing thin. "Not yet, or not at all?"

"Renjiro, you know how things work," Jiraiya said, his voice softening. "We can't act impulsively. The timing has to be right."

Renjiro's eyes burned with frustration, though his mask hid his expression. 'Right timing? My information is out there, and they're talking about timing?' He forced himself to take a steadying breath.

Jiraiya's gaze sharpened. "Did you complete the mission?"

Renjiro reached into his cloak again, pulling out another storage scroll. He placed it on the table with deliberate slowness. "Barely," he said. "I managed to retrieve the intel before their shinobi discovered me."

"Discovered you?" Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. "Why were you discovered?"

Renjiro hesitated, his mind racing. Does he know, or is he testing me?

"They were transferring the Two-Tails jinchūriki," Renjiro repeated, his voice calm but with an edge that hinted at the weight of what he had witnessed. "The entire village was on high alert. Every corner seemed like it was crawling with shinobi."

Jiraiya's eyebrows arched, his interest clearly piqued. "A jinchūriki transfer? That's rare. Kumogakure must have considered this a significant risk if they mobilized to such a degree."

Renjiro hesitated, the memories of the mission flooding back with vivid detail. His hands rested lightly on the table as he began to speak, his tone measured but purposeful. "Miyahira was like a fortress. Patrols were doubled, and the usual watchtowers were manned by jounins."

Renjiro's mind flashed back to the sight of the village from his vantage point on the ridge, cloaked in shadows to avoid detection. "They didn't just rely on manpower either. The outer perimeter was lined with barriers—chakra seals embedded into the ground, designed to detect even the faintest disturbances. I had to suppress my chakra to its bare minimum just to slip past them."

Jiraiya folded his arms, "Interesting. It's rare for jinchūriki transfers to be done publicly, even under such tight security. They must have been confident—or desperate."

Renjiro's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Desperate, maybe."

Jiraiya nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "And the jinchūriki? Did you see her?"

"That brings me to the next thing," Renjiro began, his voice measured.

Before he could continue, both men froze as they felt a sudden shift in the room's energy. A figure materialized in the corner, kneeling in the shadows. The faint rustle of cloth accompanied the appearance of the ANBU operative, their mask glinting in the lantern light.

"Lord Jiraiya," the ANBU said, their voice monotone but laced with urgency. "Lord Third requests your presence immediately. Both of you."

Jiraiya exchanged a glance with Renjiro before nodding. "Understood. We'll be there shortly."

As the ANBU disappeared as silently as they had arrived, Jiraiya stood, stretching his arms. "Looks like we're being summoned."

Renjiro rose as well, his thoughts swirling. 'This can't be good.'

The two men left the dingy room, their footsteps echoing softly in the narrow corridor outside. When they reached the Hokage's office, the atmosphere was tense. Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, his pipe discarded for once. His sharp eyes fixed on Renjiro the moment they entered.

"What did you do in the Land of Lightning?" the Hokage demanded, his tone cutting through the silence like a blade. "Kumogakure has sent word demanding your head."

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