Renjiro adjusted the grey cloak draped over his shoulders, ensuring it wouldn't snag while they were moving. It wasn't anything extravagant—just a standard travel cloak, sturdy and well-worn, blending seamlessly into the muted colours of the shinobi world. Beside him, Minato wore a similar cloak, though the way it billowed slightly with his movements made him seem almost ethereal, like a spectre flitting through the shadows.
At the head of their formation, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood, his Hokage cloak draped over his broad frame, his pace deliberate. The crimson fabric, adorned with the kanji for "Fire," carried a quiet authority even without his traditional hat, which he had sealed away in a storage scroll to avoid unnecessary hindrances during their travels.
The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine as the trio stood at the northern edge of Konoha, ready to depart.
With a nod from Hiruzen, they moved.
Flicker.
Renjiro barely had time to register the movement before the world around him blurred. One second, they were at the village's outskirts; the next, they were streaking through the dense forests of Hi no Kuni like shadows cast by the setting sun.
The sheer speed shocked him.
He had moved with fast squads before—trained alongside the best of ANBU, honed his body to near-perfection—but this was different.
His muscles burned as he pushed himself harder, chakra surging through his limbs to keep up with the blistering pace. Leaves whipped past like razor-edged kunai, the wind howling in his ears as the scenery vanished in a blur of deep greens and autumnal oranges.
It wasn't like Renjiro could not keep up with them. He could, but there were other factors to keep in mind for such as pacing as flickering consumed chakra. One also had to be alert in case of any irregularities, so they had to minimise their chakra usage during the moment. Since Renjiro had to pace himself to accommodate others, he formed a habit so this speed was new to him. A challenge he freely welcomed.
'This… this is Kage-level speed.' the younger Jonin thought.
Minato was practically weightless beside him, his movements effortless, not even a hint of strain on his face. Hiruzen moved with the precision of a seasoned predator—his every leap perfectly calculated, his landings soundless.
And yet, neither of them slowed for him.
Renjiro grit his teeth, determination flaring in his chest as he pushed harder, refusing to be left behind. He noticed Hiruzen casting him a sidelong glance, his sharp eyes filled with something akin to approval.
'He didn't think I could keep up, huh?'
A smirk tugged at the corner of Renjiro's lips. He was still leagues below their level according to him, but at least he wasn't a liability.
They moved in a triangle formation, Hiruzen at the head, Minato and Renjiro flanking him. The positioning was tactical—designed for both offence and defence, with each of them covering multiple angles of attack.
As they moved, Renjiro's senses flared.
A presence.
No—multiple.
There were shinobi trailing them.
He tensed slightly but refrained from acting. If it were enemies, Hiruzen or Minato would have reacted by now. The fact that neither acknowledged their pursuers meant only one thing:
ROOT.
'They really don't trust us to travel alone, huh?'
The thought was almost amusing. Two of the strongest shinobi in the village, plus Renjiro, and yet Danzo still felt the need to have an extra layer of surveillance. He wasn't sure whether to be irritated or flattered.
But then again, this wasn't just any mission.
This was a Kage Summit.
The entire fate of the world might hang in the balance.
The reason why Renjiro assumed it was the ROOT was because he could subtly feel the technique the Anbu used to erase their presence in use. Jiraiya would have no need to keep his eyes on them but Danzo would definitely do this.
'Either way, it's not like they can follow us all the way' Renjiro thought deciding not to pay any attention to the hidden entourage.
The Valley of the End
As they crossed into the deeper northern regions of the Land of Fire, the dense forest began to thin out, giving way to a more open landscape. The terrain became rougher, scattered with jagged cliffs and winding rivers that glistened under the dimming light of the setting sun.
Then, they reached it.
The Valley of the End.
Renjiro's breath caught slightly as his eyes took in the sight before him.
The valley stretched out beneath them, vast and breathtaking, carved by the passage of time and the echoes of history. The great waterfall cascaded down the cliffs with a roaring ferocity, mist rising in ghostly tendrils that shimmered in the golden twilight.
And there, standing tall amidst the rushing waters, were two colossal statues.
They were still incomplete.
Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha—frozen in battle, their hands forming the final seals of their legendary clash. The stonemasons had yet to finish carving their faces, but even in their unfinished state, the sheer scale of their presence was awe-inspiring.
Renjiro found himself slowing, his gaze fixed on the towering figures. Strangely enough, none of his numerous missions out of the village had allowed him to cross paths with the monument.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Minato's voice was soft, and thoughtful, as he too admired the valley.
Renjiro nodded. "Yeah… it really is."
He hadn't expected to feel calm here. This was the site of a battle that had shaped history, a place where power had clashed on a scale beyond comprehension.
And yet, standing there, surrounded by the golden hues of the sunset, the scene felt almost peaceful.
Still, something lingered beneath that beauty. A weight.
After a moment, he turned to Hiruzen.
"Hokage-sama," he asked respectfully, "why build the statues? I mean, I get why Hashirama's is here, but…"
He trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Hiruzen stroked his beard, his gaze distant. "Because, whether we like it or not, they are the foundation of Konoha."
Renjiro's breath hitched slightly.
"Not 'They.' 'he.'"
That one word said everything.
Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, the benevolent god of shinobi who built Konoha from the ground up. And Madara Uchiha, the ghost of the past, the rogue shinobi who had turned his back on the village he once dreamed of leading.
Both of them, inextricably linked.
Even now, years later, Konoha still carried Madara's legacy.
Renjiro's hands clenched slightly at his sides, his mind racing with thoughts he didn't dare voice aloud.
He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. Dwelling on the past wouldn't change anything.
"We should keep moving," Hiruzen said, at last, stepping forward.
Renjiro cast one last look at the statues before following.
=====
By the time they reached the northern border station, night had begun to settle over the land, the sky deepening into a dark shade of indigo. Torches flickered along the fortified outpost, casting long shadows against the wooden barricades.
The station was manned by several shinobi, all of them standing at attention as the trio approached. At the forefront stood a broad-shouldered man, his imposing frame unmistakable even in the dim light.
He had the Akimichi clan's build, his clothing barely containing his large frame. His dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and his eyes were sharp despite his otherwise friendly features.
The man stepped forward, offering a respectful bow.
"Hokage-sama, welcome," he greeted. "I am Jonin Akimichi Ryouma. We have been expecting you."
Renjiro barely had time to take in the introduction before his senses flared.
Something was off.
His eyes flickered over the gathered shinobi, instincts screaming at him as his body tensed involuntarily.
Then, in an instant, his expression darkened.
The air shifted.
The moment was subtle—imperceptible to anyone not paying attention. But Ryouma felt it.
The large jonin froze mid-step, his muscles locking up as though he had been ensnared by an invisible force.
For a split second, he looked like a man who had just stepped into the den of a predator.
=====
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