"Renjiro!" The name burst from Miwa's lips, a raw sound of pure, unadulterated relief and joy. Forgetting the pain, the stiffness, the simmering anger, she closed the distance in three swift strides, her movements fueled by a surge of adrenaline that had nothing to do with combat. She threw her arms around him, a fierce, almost desperate hug that spoke volumes of the worry that had coiled in her chest since he saved her.
Renjiro, usually so reserved, stiffened only for a fraction of a second before returning the embrace, his arms tightening around her shoulders. He felt the slight tremor running through her, the tension in muscles still screaming from overexertion.
"Aunt Miwa," he murmured. He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes scanning her face with the critical intensity she knew well – the Jonin assessing, the nephew concerned.
"I'm… sorry. I should have come sooner. When you were in the medical tents…"
Miwa waved a dismissive hand.
"Bah! Stop that," she chided. She gave his arm a playful, albeit weak, punch. "If it weren't for you showing up like some storm god, I wouldn't even be here to have this conversation, medical tent or not. You saved my hide, kid. And plenty of others."
Her smile softened, gratitude replacing the wryness. "That's what matters."
Renjiro's expression remained serious, the concern deepening as he noted the fine lines of pain etched around her eyes, the careful way she shifted her weight off her left leg.
"How are you? Truly?" he asked, his gaze dropping pointedly to the shattered post, then back to her face.
"The medics…?"
Miwa sighed, the frustration bubbling back to the surface, mingling with the physical discomfort. She gestured vaguely towards the command tents. "Frustrated. More than anything. Shiba's sitting on his hands. No redeployment orders. Just… waiting." She spat the word like a curse. "Meanwhile, my unit gathers dust while the war grinds on. It's maddening."
"The fronts have gone quiet," Renjiro offered, his tone shifting to analytical. "After the confrontation with Kumo and the losses they took, both Kumo and Suna have pulled back. No probes. No raids. Unusual silence along the Land of Fire borders."
Miwa's eyes narrowed. A Jonin's instincts, honed by decades of conflict, flared. Quiet was rarely good. "Are they planning something bigger?" she asked, the tension returning to her shoulders.
"Regrouping?"
"Possibly," Renjiro conceded. "Or…" He paused, choosing his words carefully.
He couldn't reveal his role in the Iwa-Suna tensions, the frame job that was mainly responsible for bringing Konoha this respite. Miwa's protective instincts would override everything, and the secrecy Hiruzen demanded was absolute.
"There are… other pressures. Rumours. Significant tensions flaring between Iwagakure and Sunagakure."
Miwa blinked, then let out a short, harsh bark of laughter devoid of humour. "Iwa and Suna? Again? Those two rock-headed, sand-scraping idiots!"
She shook her head, a gesture of weary exasperation. "Even with a treaty gathering dust somewhere, they can't share a desert without trying to bury each other in it." She sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of the Shinobi world's perpetual conflicts.
"Some things never change."
Renjiro remained silent, his gaze fixed on a distant point. He couldn't agree, couldn't elaborate. He felt Miwa's sharp eyes on him, sensing the unsaid things hanging in the air, but she didn't press. She knew the boundaries of operational secrecy.
"Peace is good," Miwa finally said, breaking the quiet, though her voice held no conviction.
"But this… this idle waiting? It's worse than the fighting. At least in a fight, you know what you're up against. This is just… suffocating."
"You could return to Konoha," Renjiro suggested quietly. "Recuperate fully."
He knew the offer was hollow even as he made it.
Miwa's reaction was immediate and fierce. "And do what?!" she snapped, "Twiddle my thumbs while everyone I know is out here? Watch from the walls like some useless elder?"
She shook her head vehemently. "No. That's a coward's path. People still need defending here, Renjiro. Konoha's safety depends on these fronts holding. Sitting idle in the village while others bleed… I couldn't live with myself."
The conviction in her voice was absolute.
"What about you? How are you holding up? Besides being Konoha's one-man storm?"
Renjiro gave a slight shrug, a gesture that tried to convey nonchalance but couldn't quite mask the underlying tension. "Managing. My summon… took significant damage during the fight."
A flicker of genuine concern crossed his face, quickly masked. "The healers from their place are skilled, but recovery is slow. I have to minimise summoning them now. Use them sparingly, only when absolutely critical."
Miwa raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "Summon? Them? How many do you have?"
"It's a clan," Renjiro explained. "Giant Eagles. So, while one is recovering, I can still summon others. But they're… protective. I need to respect that and limit the frequency. It increases my workload, reduces my mobility… but it keeps them safe. A fair trade."
Of course, with Momo's threat, there was more to consider when making this choice. There was also a quiet respect in his tone when he spoke of the eagles, a bond Miwa hadn't fully grasped before.
A knowing smirk slowly spread across Miwa's face. "Ah, yes. The 'False Jinchuriki' wouldn't want to overwork his summons, now would he?"
Renjiro visibly fought the urge to roll his eyes or facepalm. A muscle twitched near his jaw. "You've heard that ridiculous name too?" he groaned, the exasperation clear.
Miwa chuckled, the sound genuine this time. "Ridiculous? Maybe. But it fits you. And it comes with consequences."
Her expression sobered instantly, "That title didn't just earn you admirers in Konoha. It painted the biggest target imaginable on your back. Your bounty, Renjiro…" She paused, raising two fingers.
"It hasn't just increased. It's skyrocketed."
Renjiro frowned. "Did it double? So, forty million?" He remembered the previous figure – substantial, but manageable for a skilled Jonin with his growing reputation.
Miwa shook her head slowly, " No. It's now two hundred million ryo."
The world seemed to freeze. The rustling pines fell silent. Renjiro stopped dead, his breath catching in his throat.
He stared at Miwa, his dark eyes wide, the usual composure shattered. "Two… hundred… million?" he repeated, the words sounding alien, impossible.
"You're certain?"
"Dead certain," Miwa confirmed.
"They want you gone, Renjiro. Permanently. And they're willing to pay Kage-level prices to make it happen."
'Two hundred million.' The number echoed in Renjiro's mind, a deafening gong.
'Kage-level.'
The bounties on the Sannin were legendary, hovering around four hundred million – and he was already halfway there?
'Are they overestimating me? Or do they genuinely see me as that much of a threat?' A cold calculation warred with disbelief.
Then, a bizarre, almost inappropriate thought flickered through the shock: 'Two hundred million… That's enough… enough to fund a small hidden village. Secure resources. Build something… independent.'
A dark, cynical smile began to creep onto his lips, unbidden.
'Maybe… maybe I should fake my own death. Cash in on myself. Disappear… start fresh…'
"Renjiro?" Miwa's voice cut through his internal scheming, "Why in the Sage's name are you smiling? Two hundred million is a death sentence!"
Renjiro blinked, the dark fantasy dissolving as quickly as it had formed.
"Ah… sorry. Just… the absurdity of it all, I suppose." He cleared his throat, forcefully shifting gears.
"Anyway… enough about my newly inflated price tag."
He gestured towards the smooth leather case he'd given her.
"Open your present. Before the war, or my bounty hunters, decide to intervene."
Miwa's eyes flickered from his face to the case, the worry momentarily eclipsed by curiosity and a flicker of warmth. She picked up the case, and the simple brass clasps snicked open under her touch.
She lifted the lid.
Miwa Uzumaki's reaction was unmistakable. Her breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her eyes fixed on the contents. She looked from the gift to Renjiro, her expression a complex tapestry of astonishment, deep appreciation, and a love that transcended the battlefield.
"Renjiro…" she whispered, "This is… thank yo