"Wood Release?"
Tsunade looked at Ren in confusion. As Senju Hashirama's direct descendant, she didn't say much aloud, nor did she show any obvious reaction—but deep down, it was impossible for her not to have thoughts about it.
Wood Release was something people chased their entire lives and still failed to obtain.
So many years had passed, and only Ren had awakened it naturally. That alone was enough to explain just how impossibly difficult it was.
And now Ren was talking about it so casually—how could she not feel surprised and puzzled?
"What do you mean by that?" Tsunade frowned. "Are you saying you have a way to help me?"
"There probably is a way," Ren replied slowly, rubbing his chin as if thinking. "But it doesn't really have anything to do with cultivation."
He deliberately paused, then continued with a thoughtful expression.
"It's actually pretty simple. We use something closer to… an experimental approach."
"An experiment?"
Before Ren could finish, Tsunade shook her head in disdain.
"Forget it. The village has done plenty of experiments like that already. Every single one failed."
"There was only one survivor—and you know that person too. And honestly, I'd rather never use that method."
It was obvious Tsunade strongly rejected experiments involving her grandfather's cells.
A man was already dead, yet his remains were still disturbed, divided, and used in experiments.
If this hadn't been something her second grandfather started in the first place, she would've caused a scene long ago.
Ignoring it didn't mean she accepted it—especially not when it came to using it on herself.
"What if… it's not that?" Ren tilted his head and smiled lightly.
He understood Tsunade's thoughts very well.
Strictly speaking, White Zetsu cells did originate from Hashirama's body—but the key difference was this: when Madara obtained them, Hashirama was still alive.
That was very different from grave-robbing.
Even if it was the same person at the core, psychologically, "alive" and "dug out of a grave" carried completely different weights.
And besides—White Zetsu had long since been modified beyond recognition by Madara and Black Zetsu.
Even Hashirama himself would probably struggle to recognize his own aura inside it.
Reviving him was still a long way off.
Which meant Ren had a lot of room to maneuver.
"What I mean," Ren continued, "is using my blood and cells to try and see whether they can help you activate Wood Release."
"After all, I already—"
"You?" Tsunade frowned sharply. "You mean using yours?"
She hadn't expected this at all.
But… thinking about it carefully, the idea didn't sound completely impossible.
Ren had awakened Wood Release naturally. The vitality and activity in his blood and cells would be extremely high.
And unlike Hashirama, Ren's cells shouldn't be lethal.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
Ren wasn't her grandfather.
Their bloodline relationship was unclear, and what kind of differences that would cause—Tsunade couldn't say.
And more importantly—
"Have you thought about something?" Tsunade's expression grew serious as she stared at him. "If you start something like this—if it becomes a bad precedent—and others begin to swarm toward you… have you considered what that means for you?"
"But I have Flying Thunder God," Ren blinked innocently. "I can always run."
He shrugged casually.
"And my strength isn't weak. I don't think anyone could forcefully take anything from me. I'm pretty confident about that, sensei."
"…."
Tsunade frowned.
She had to admit—Ren really did have that kind of capability.
Still, something inside her felt wrong.
After a long sigh, she finally said, "Forget it. I need to seriously think about this."
"But remember this clearly—don't bring this up again. And absolutely do not mention it to outsiders. Do you understand?"
"Mm."
Ren nodded.
Then he sighed lightly.
"Take your time thinking about it, sensei. I'll be heading to Kirigakure soon anyway. We can talk after I'm back."
"Still… Wood Release should be passed on somehow. And right now, it looks like it can only be us."
That wasn't wrong.
The Senju clan hadn't been exterminated like the Uchiha, but under the Second Hokage's policies, they'd long blended into civilian life.
A few teachers at the Ninja Academy still carried the Senju name, but tracing bloodlines beyond that was nearly impossible.
Ren himself was exploiting this loophole.
And if the Senju were ever to produce another Wood Release user, Tsunade was realistically the only possibility.
"Tch. We'll talk about that later."
Tsunade shook her head and plopped down into her chair.
"Wood Release or not—it doesn't define who I am. The Senju didn't rely on Wood Release in the first place."
"My grandfather's Wood Release was the anomaly. Before him, no one had it. So stop obsessing over it."
"Without Wood Release, am I suddenly not myself anymore?"
"But I heard a story once," Ren said with a smile.
Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "Another story?"
She thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Go on. Just don't make it boring."
"Of course not."
Ren thought briefly, then spoke slowly.
"There was once an enlightened monk in a temple. As his status rose, he collected countless famous kasayas."
"But he was never satisfied."
"One day, he saw a kasaya worn by a visiting monk—and became obsessed."
"To obtain it, he committed arson, murder, theft."
"In the end, he was exposed and utterly ruined."
"On his deathbed, someone asked him: 'You renounced worldly desires long ago. Why couldn't you let go of a single robe?'"
Tsunade clicked her tongue. "Another pointless parable?"
"But you're curious how he answered," Ren said calmly.
She snorted. "Fine. What did he say?"
Ren shrugged.
"He laughed and replied: 'Without this robe, how would the world know that I had truly severed worldly ties?'"
He stopped there.
Even Ren wasn't sure if the analogy was perfect.
But the core meaning was clear.
Tsunade frowned deeply.
After a long silence, she snorted.
"What nonsense. Are you planning to become a monk now?"
"No way."
Ren shook his head instantly.
"I still plan to get married someday."
"Then stop telling useless stories," Tsunade shot him a glare.
She leaned back lazily.
"Enough reading scrolls. I don't feel like going out either. Come over and massage my shoulders."
Ren raised an eyebrow at her graceful, mature figure—but nodded and walked over.
Massaging shoulders was something he knew how to do.
"…Not bad," Tsunade muttered with her eyes closed. "Not skilled yet, but acceptable."
As she enjoyed it, her thoughts drifted back to Wood Release.
She claimed not to care.
But if it truly appeared before her—could she really resist?
The answer unsettled her.
"Damn that kid…"
Ren's story echoed again in her mind.
Clothes adorned the monk.
Just as Wood Release adorned the Senju.
Ren had placed that "kasaya" right in front of her.
Should she take it—or not?
And if she did… what would change?
The warmth from Ren's hands lingered.
And another thought surfaced.
Even if she didn't care—others would.
A Senju with Wood Release and a Senju without it were fundamentally different existences.
Hashirama had carved Wood Release into history.
And now there was Ren.
What came next?
"…Wait. This is bad."
Tsunade suddenly realized something.
Konoha had gone to great lengths for Wood Release in the past.
Now that Ren existed, they would only push harder.
And where would those efforts point?
She didn't even dare imagine it.
"Have there been any updates on Ren lately?" someone asked.
"…Not yet."
"Damn it. That kid loves stirring trouble—why has he been so quiet?"
"Maybe he's still recuperating. The Iwagakure mission wasn't that long ago."
In Kirigakure, Black Zetsu was struggling to answer Obito's relentless questioning.
The Iwa incident had just ended. Ren had blown things sky-high. You seriously expected him to move again so soon?
Yes, he had dumped a massive black pot on you.
Yes, your Madara disguise was starting to crack.
But staring at him constantly was pointless.
He needed to cool down.
At least until the heat passed.
"You should focus on other matters," Black Zetsu sighed. "For example, Sunagakure has submitted documents requesting to formally end the confrontation."
Kirigakure had been harassing Suna for years.
The attacks had slowed three years ago—but never stopped.
And that insane order had come directly from Obito.
Because he wanted Kirigakure to die.
He'd expanded the Blood Mist policy for revenge.
For Rin.
"Why should I care?" Obito snorted. "Suna is a perfect training ground."
"They've already sent envoys," Black Zetsu replied calmly. "And the village is growing dissatisfied."
"You hate Kirigakure, but don't go too far. As long as you control the Mizukage, you can keep draining the village."
"Lose that control—and you lose everything."
"Tch. I'll just control another one."
Obito scoffed—but he knew how hard that would be.
Yagura was controllable because he was a Jinchūriki.
Mangekyō Sharingan was special.
Replicating that wasn't easy.
"So we meet them?" Obito asked.
"Yes. Accept when it's time. Suna is useful."
Black Zetsu sighed internally.
He'd guided many Uchiha.
But somehow… Obito was still exhausting.
"Use their resources," Obito muttered. "And maybe get intel on Konoha."
"Exactly."
"And if we can get information on Danzo too… even better."
Both Ren and Danzo were disasters.
Back on the sea, Ren stretched lazily on the deck.
A week had passed.
After organizing his intel and settling things with Kabuto and Nono, he was finally heading for Kirigakure.
Flying Thunder God marks were already placed along the route.
Escape wouldn't be a problem.
And if things went well—
He might harvest another massive batch of Freedom Points.
"You really don't like staying in the village, do you?" Yūgao asked beside him.
"And… did you make sensei angry again?"
"I don't know," Ren sighed. "I talked about Wood Release, massaged her shoulders, then she ran off."
Yūgao glared at him.
"Watch your mouth."
"I'm just worried," Ren said seriously. "Middle age is rough."
"…."
Yūgao stared daggers at him.
"You're asking for death."
Ren laughed and took her hand.
She didn't pull away.
"Anyway, how are you feeling about this mission?"
"I'm ready," Yūgao said confidently.
A faint purple seal shimmered on her forehead.
Tsunade's Yin Seal.
"I see," Ren smiled. "No wonder."
"Oi—look at you two," Jiraiya's voice suddenly rang out.
Yūgao flushed instantly.
Kakashi and Tenzo followed behind him.
"Since everyone's here," Jiraiya said seriously, "let's do a briefing."
The fog thickened around them.
"This mission is different. Kirigakure isn't simple."
And his gaze drifted—straight to Ren.
Kakashi did the same.
Only Tenzo looked relaxed.
"I know," Ren nodded. "I won't cause trouble."
"…That's exactly what scares me," Jiraiya muttered.
Ren sighed.
"Last time in Iwa, wasn't it you who insisted on infiltration?"
"…."
"And Grass Country?" Ren turned to Kakashi. "We gained benefits and brought back an Uzumaki."
"…."
"So clearly, the problem isn't me."
Ren spread his hands.
"I'm just a humble public servant."
For a moment, both captains wished Shisui were here instead.
"Enough," Tenzo said quickly. "Ren, what's your plan?"
"Yes," Yūgao added. "You were the one who suspected Obito in Kirigakure."
Ren grew serious.
"At first, I had no clear idea."
"But after Iwa… Jiraiya-san gave me inspiration."
Jiraiya felt a chill.
"…Don't."
Ren ignored him.
"I believe Obito is petty. Vindictive."
"He blamed the Fourth Hokage for things he never did."
"So how could he let Kirigakure go?"
"Think about it. Blood Mist. Attacking Suna across the sea."
"It's too irrational."
"That means—he's probably controlling someone high up."
"Possibly the Mizukage himself."
Silence fell.
"That's… horrifying," Jiraiya murmured.
"And if he wants to destroy a village," Ren continued, "he wouldn't strike directly."
"He'd use policy."
"Expand Blood Mist."
"Turn Suna raids into 'trials'."
"Cull talent."
Everyone felt cold.
"This is worse than we thought," Jiraiya said quietly.
Just then, a man approached.
"We're nearing port."
Jiraiya nodded, staring at the faint outline of land.
There was no turning back now.
As they entered the forest, still shaken—
Ren suddenly stopped.
"…Interesting."
"What is it?" Jiraiya asked.
"Not enemies," Ren replied slowly.
"But definitely familiar."
"…Sand Village familiar."
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