The forest clearing was a graveyard of chakra—residual lightning from Kakashi's Chidori arcing between broken branches, pulses of tailed beast energy leaking from Rin's still form, the heavy weight of grief pressing down on the air itself. The moonlight, which had been pale and cold, now seemed almost sickly, casting long shadows that writhed like living things across the blood-soaked earth.
Renjiro's shadow clone stepped out of concealment.
The movement was unhurried, deliberate, the emergence of someone who had been waiting for exactly this moment. His Sharingan was still active, recording every detail of the scene before him. The clone's expression was unreadable—neither triumphant nor sorrowful, simply present.
Kakashi looked up, his face a mask of shock and confusion. His Mangekyō Sharingan, newly awakened, still spun in his left eye, its unfamiliar pattern reflecting the moonlight. He had not yet learned to control it, had not yet learned to deactivate it. The eye burned with a power he did not understand.
"Renjiro?" His voice was hoarse, raw. "How are you—why are you—"
"I sent a shadow clone to trail you," the clone said, its voice calm, almost conversational. "The Daimyō's meeting was important, but not important enough to not help a Friend."
Kakashi's gaze flickered to Rin's body, then back to Renjiro. His thoughts were fragmented, disjointed—Injurying Rin, the Mangekyō's awakening, the sudden appearance of someone who should have been miles away. He could not process it all. Could not make sense of any of it.
Rin stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open—clouded, unfocused, but alive. Her lips moved, forming words that were barely audible.
"Renjiro… sama…"
Then her body went limp, and her eyes closed again.
Kakashi's attention snapped back to her, his arms tightening around her still form.
"Rin? Rin!" He looked up at Renjiro, his expression desperate. "You have to save her. Please. You—you have seals, techniques, something. Please."
The clone's expression did not change, but something behind its eyes shifted—a calculation, an assessment.
"I'll try," it said. "Help me lay her down."
Together, they lowered Rin onto the soft earth, her dark hair spreading around her like a halo. The wound in her chest was still open, the Chidori's entry point a dark, weeping crater. Blood saturated her clothes, pooling beneath her, soaking into the ground.
Renjiro's clone reached into its pouch and withdrew a stabilisation seal—a small, folded square of paper covered in dense kanji. It placed the seal directly over the wound, pressing down, channelling a pulse of chakra to activate it.
The seal glowed, its lines flaring bright, then dimming. The bleeding slowed. The wound began to close—not healing, not truly, but stabilising. Holding.
Kakashi watched, hope flickering in his visible eye.
"Will it save her?"
The clone's answer was measured. "I don't know. But it gives her a chance."
"Why not Medical Ninjutsu?" Kakashi pressed. "You're skilled enough in Medical Ninjutsu; you healed me that one time. You could—"
"The Six-Tails' chakra is interfering." The clone cut him off, its voice sharp but not unkind. "Saiken's presence disrupts chakra control. I cannot properly channel healing energy while the beast's power is leaking into her system."
Kakashi opened his mouth to respond, but a pulse of chakra interrupted him.
Rin's body convulsed—a violent spasm that threw her head back, her eyes snapping open, glowing with the telltale red of tailed beast influence. The stabilisation seal flickered, its glow dimming, then brightening, then dimming again. The pressure of Saiken's chakra was intensifying, pushing against the seal's boundaries.
"The seal won't hold under this pressure," the clone said, its voice tight. "Not for long."
'Saiken,' Renjiro's clone thought. 'The Six-Tails. Not Isobu. Another divergence. In the original timeline, Rin hosted the Three-Tails. But here, in this altered history, Kiri sealed Saiken inside her instead.'
It should have been alarmed. A shift this significant could have cascading effects, rippling outward, changing events that had seemed fixed. But the clone felt something else—a cold, clinical satisfaction.
'This is better,' it realised. 'Saiken's chakra is different from Isobu's. More volatile, perhaps, but also more powerful. And the seal—Kiri's seal—is flawed. There are gaps. Leaks. Opportunities.'
The clone's eyes flickered to Kakashi, who was staring at Rin's convulsing form with helpless desperation.
'If I can extract some of Saiken's chakra—just a sample—I can study it. Understand it. Use it.'
But extraction required a tool. And the tool was not here. Not yet.
Kakashi looked up, his voice raw.
"What do we do?"
The clone reached into its pouch again, its fingers closing around a familiar object—the modified purification seal.
"This," it said.
Kakashi's eyes widened. "What is that?"
"A bijū restriction seal," the clone lied, its voice smooth, convincing. "Designed to suppress tailed beast chakra. To stabilise the host."
It placed the seal on Rin's abdomen, pressing down, activating it with a pulse of chakra. The seal's lines flared—blue, then gold, then settling into a steady, pulsing glow.
Kakashi stared at the seal, hope and confusion warring in his expression.
"You never mentioned—"
"There wasn't time." The clone cut him off. "We'll discuss it later. For now, focus on her."
Kakashi nodded, his attention returning to Rin's still form. The convulsions had stopped. The stabilisation seal held. The modified purification seal glowed softly, its work invisible to anyone who did not know what to look for.
'Suppressing the beast,' the clone thought. 'Stabilising the host. That's true, as far as it goes. But it's also extracting. Sampling. Building a map of Saiken's chakra signature for future use.'
It kept its expression neutral, its thoughts hidden.
Renjiro suddenly raised a hand, signalling for silence.
Kakashi's head snapped up, his Sharingan eye spinning, searching for threats.
"Someone is watching us," the clone whispered, its voice barely audible.
Kakashi's chakra spiked—a defensive reaction, the instinct of a shinobi trained to respond to danger.
"Where?"
"I'm not sure. But they're there." The clone's gaze swept the treeline, its Sharingan penetrating the shadows. "Stay with Rin. Keep her stable. I'll handle this."
Kakashi wanted to argue—Renjiro could see it in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. But he was exhausted, grieving, overwhelmed. He did not have the strength to fight.
"Be careful," he said.
The clone nodded, then flickered—a burst of speed that carried it into the shadows, away from the clearing, away from Kakashi and Rin, toward whatever was watching.
Kakashi was alone with Rin's body. His Mangekyō, still active, still spinning, painted the world in shades of red and shadow. He did not understand its power, did not know how to control it. It burned in his eye socket, a foreign presence, a reminder of everything he had lost.
'Rin is dead,' he thought. 'Or dying. I don't know which is worse. And Renjiro was here. A shadow clone. Watching. Waiting.'
He did not know how to feel about that. Did not have the energy to process it.
He did the only thing he could do: he waited.
The shadow clone moved through the forest at speed, its Sharingan scanning for threats, its chakra suppressed to near nothing. The trees blurred past, dark shapes against the pale moonlight, their branches reaching out like grasping hands.
'I don't want to engage,' the clone thought. 'Not yet. Not directly. White Zetsu is too slippery, and Obito is too dangerous. But I need to send a message. I need them to know that someone is watching. That Konoha is aware.'
It stopped in a small clearing, its back to a massive oak, its Sharingan sweeping the shadows.
'I'll stay here for a few minutes. Long enough to be detected. Long enough to make them hesitate. Then I'll withdraw. A calculated bluff. A warning.'
The clone waited, its breathing slow, its chakra steady. The forest was silent—no birds, no insects, no wind. Only the hush of held breath and the weight of unseen eyes.
Then, without warning, the clone felt it—a presence, familiar and cold.
Renjiro.
The original appeared beside it, stepping out of the shadows as if he had been there all along. His expression was calm—his Mangekyō was active, the tri-wheel pattern spinning slowly, radiating pressure.
"Status?" the original asked.
"Kakashi is stable. Rin is alive, but barely. The seals are holding." The clone paused. "Obito is nearby. I sensed him during the awakening."
The original's eyes narrowed.
"Good. I'll handle him."
The clone nodded, then poof —dispersed, its chakra flowing back into the original, its memories and observations integrated.
Renjiro turned to face the darkness, his Mangekyō spinning, his senses extended. The presence was faint—a whisper at the edge of his perception—but it was there.
Renjiro locked onto the chakra signature and flickered—a burst of speed that carried him into the darkness, toward the boy who had just lost everything, toward a confrontation that would shape the future of the shinobi world.