The air in the Mizukage's hall grew heavy with unspoken tension. The Six-Tails jinchūriki's bold challenge had cut through the quiet, demanding an answer.
Renjiro could feel the weight of the stares settling on him, studying his every movement, gauging his reaction. The scrutiny was palpable, sharp as the mist-laden air of Kirigakure itself. He did not like it at all.
Across the hall, the Mizukage—Hiroshi—had finally lifted his gaze from the Kabutowari resting in his hands, his sharp eyes shifting toward the six tails jinchūriki with a knowing, almost indulgent look. His fingers drummed lightly against the hilt of the legendary weapon, the soft tap, tap, tap barely audible in the hushed room.
"You're eager today, Juro," the Mizukage noted, his voice calm yet edged with amusement. "But surely, it would be rude to trouble our guest so soon after his arrival."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. A handful of shinobi exchanged glances, while others merely observed with quiet interest.
Renjiro exhaled quietly through his nose, grateful for the intervention. His mind reeled, inwardly exasperated.
'I just got here.'
Juro, the Six-Tails jinchūriki, didn't back down. If anything, the Mizukage's words only seemed to amuse him further fanning his spirit. He leaned forward, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Rude? I would say it'd be rude not to test the strength of someone who's been making waves in the shinobi world," Juro countered, his voice laced with a playful challenge. "Word is, this guy—" he gestured lazily at Renjiro "—fought off one of Kumo's jinchūriki. A feat like that doesn't go unnoticed. Especially for someone so young."
Renjiro remained silent, his face betraying nothing.
'What the hell is that even supposed to mean?'
Juro continued, eyes glinting with interest. "I'm a fan, you see. I simply want to get a taste of his prowess."
Renjiro felt a vein twitch in his temple. The way Juro spoke made it sound like he was requesting a friendly spar, but Renjiro wasn't an idiot. He knew the moment he accepted, this wouldn't be just some casual test of strength. This was about setting a precedent, about Kirigakure sizing him up.
A battle in front of an audience, especially in a foreign village, was a fool's game.
"I appreciate the interest," Renjiro said evenly, keeping his tone polite yet firm, "but I had a long journey from Konoha to Kirigakure. I'd rather not engage in a fight the moment I step into your village."
Juro raised an eyebrow, amused. "Tired already? I thought a hunter of tailed beasts would have more stamina than that."
Renjiro's eye twitched. 'Hunter of Tailed Beasts? I did not even kill the two tails jinchuriki. This guy is relentless.'
He shifted his gaze toward the Mizukage, expecting some form of intervention. The Mizukage was watching him closely, his sharp gaze scrutinizing Renjiro's every movement, his every word. The smirk on his lips was barely concealed, a flicker of amusement that Renjiro didn't fail to notice.
That was when a thought crossed Renjiro's mind.
'Was this a setup?'
Was this all arranged from the moment he stepped into Kirigakure? The jinchūriki's persistence, the Mizukage's silence—it was starting to feel suspicious. As if they were manoeuvring him into a position where refusal would make him look weak, but acceptance would force him to reveal his capabilities.
'So that's how they want to play this.'
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He hated being a piece in someone else's game.
With renewed resolve, he exhaled and spoke, this time more assertively.
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline again," he said, voice smooth but unwavering. "As I said, I'm tired. And besides," he added, tilting his head slightly, "if I already fought one jinchūriki, do you really think I'd want to push my luck against another?"
His words hung in the air for a moment, and for the first time since the conversation started, Juro's smirk faltered. Just slightly.
The jinchūriki clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.
The tension in the room shifted. Some of the shinobi in the background exchanged murmurs, their eyes flickering between Renjiro and Juro. A few of them seemed entertained, others more curious.
Renjiro could almost hear their thoughts.
'Is he backing down?'
'Is he just being careful, or is he weaker than we thought?'
'Maybe the stories about him were exaggerated after all.'
'Good. Let them wonder.' Renjiro thought.
He had no interest in proving himself to them.
Juro, however, was not finished.
"Are you scared to face me?" the jinchūriki asked, his voice louder this time, meant to draw attention.
Renjiro turned to him with a perfectly neutral expression and, to everyone's shock, answered plainly—
"Yes."
Silence.
A beat passed before murmurs broke out across the room. Juro's face flickered with surprise, and even the Mizukage's expression briefly changed, as if he hadn't expected such an outright response.
Renjiro elaborated, his voice steady.
"I'm a newly promoted jōnin. You're a jinchūriki." He shrugged. "It wouldn't be a fair fight at all. If I truly went against a jinchūriki in Kumogakure as they claimed, then either the stories are exaggerated, or I barely survived. Either way, I have no reason to accept this fight."
Juro's brow twitched.
Renjiro continued, now fully leaning into his reasoning.
"And, if Kumo's accusations were true—that I somehow took down a jinchūriki—then logically, I should be dead." His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Unless, of course, you're implying I'm stronger than a tailed beast's host?"
Juro scowled.
For the first time since the conversation started, the jinchūriki was left speechless.
Renjiro felt satisfaction rise in his chest. 'Checkmate.'
He could practically feel the room shifting. Some shinobi were stifling laughter, while others watched Juro with mild amusement. Even the Mizukage's lips twitched ever so slightly.
Renjiro was about to revel in the moment when—
"Step."
The soft yet deliberate sound of a footstep cut through the murmurs.
Renjiro's sharp eyes immediately tracked the movement.
One of the other men in the room stepped forward. Unlike Juro, he radiated a different sort of presence—controlled, measured. A warrior through and through.
He stopped a few paces from Renjiro, arms crossed.
"I agree with the Konoha jōnin," the man said, his voice smooth, authoritative. "If he cannot face a jinchūriki, then he should face me instead."
Renjiro's eyes widened just slightly.
The room shifted again. This time, the murmurs were louder, filled with renewed interest.
Renjiro barely heard them, though. His focus had already locked onto the man.
A Swordsman of the Mist.
He hadn't drawn his blade, but he didn't need to. Everything about him screamed lethal precision.
Then, from the corner of his eye, Renjiro caught the smallest movement.
A smirk.
The Mizukage's smirk.
And just like that, the realization struck him like a cold wave.
'This was a setup.'
From the very beginning.
His stomach twisted—not in fear, but in irritation. He had played right into their hands.
The jinchūriki had been the bait, and when Renjiro refused, they had seamlessly manoeuvred him into another challenge. One that he could no longer decline without outright damaging Konoha's reputation.
'Clever,' Renjiro admitted grudgingly.
His gaze flickered to the swordsman.
A test. A message.
And now, he had no choice but to answer it.
=====
Bless me with your powerful Power Stones.
Your Reviews and Comments about my work are welcomed
If you can, then please support me on Patreon.
Link - www.patreon.com/SideCharacter
You Can read more chapters ahead on Patreon.