Chapter 38: Mystical Palm Technique
"Lady Tsunade," Renji murmured into her shoulder, his small hand coming up to pat her back in slow, soothing circles, like he was the adult comforting a heartbroken child. Who else in the world would dare treat the legendary Tsunade like this—like she was fragile, worthy of tenderness? "I know being Hokage will wear you down, body and soul. But I'm still going to selfishly beg you... come back with us. Please."
"Konoha needs you. And so do my injured comrades—they're waiting, hurting, because you're the only one who can make them whole again." Renji hadn't forgotten the boys back at the inn: Naruto and Sasuke, broken and bandaged, or even Rock Lee in the Konoha hospital, his future as a shinobi hanging by a thread.
Tsunade pulled back just enough to look at him, her vision swimming through the blur of tears. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice thick and ragged. "I'm sorry, kid... I can't heal anyone right now. Not like this."
Renji's eyes widened in genuine surprise for a split second—then the memories clicked into place. Right... the hemophobia. Tsunade's curse, born from too much blood and too many graves. It was a small hurdle, nothing he couldn't "fix" with a little creative manipulation. One Orochimaru encounter ought to do the trick, stir up the right kind of chaos to shatter that fear.
Jiraiya's large hand landed gently on Renji's head, ruffling his blue hair in a silent warning—easy, kid, don't push too hard and make her bolt. He could see the emotion bubbling up in the boy's eyes, the risk of an argument spilling over.
"But if Lady Tsunade can't heal them..." Renji trailed off, his voice distant and hollow, fresh tears welling up as he turned pleading eyes back to her. "...then they'll never be shinobi again. They'll lose everything they've fought for."
Tsunade looked away, the weight of it twisting like a knife in her gut. She couldn't meet that gaze—not when it echoed so many others she'd failed.
The rest of the evening dragged on in that heavy silence, Renji's wide, pitiful eyes fixed on Tsunade like a constant, unspoken accusation. She buried her face in her hands, the pain gnawing deeper with every passing minute. Finally, Jiraiya took pity and shooed Renji off to bed for the night. Shizune followed soon after, scooping up a still-protesting Tonton and heading out. The izakaya emptied around them, leaving just Jiraiya and Tsunade in the flickering lantern light.
"Want to hear a little about that kid?" Jiraiya offered, his voice low and casual, breaking the quiet like a stone skipping across water.
Tsunade perked up despite herself, curiosity overriding her defenses. Renji Mahito had wormed his way under her skin in record time. "Yeah. Tell me." She even felt her resolve softening, her fingers absently toying with a pair of dice on the table, rolling them back and forth.
"Renji Mahito's got a Kekkei Genkai tied to souls—reshaping them, twisting fates in ways that'd make your head spin." Jiraiya watched as Tsunade's hand faltered on the dice, a subtle tremor running through her fingers. Kato Dan's Spirit Transformation Technique was soul stuff too, he thought, the coincidence hitting him like a sucker punch all over again. Hell, even he found it eerie.
"He was raised in ROOT under Elder Danzo's thumb, but don't let that fool you—the kid's got a heart of gold and a backbone forged in fire. Resilient as they come."
"Kakashi and the rest of the village can't stop singing his praises. He's the sort who'd dive into hell without a second thought if it meant saving his comrades."
Tsunade stared down at the table, her mind turning over the words like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Too similar. The soul-based power, the soft features, that unyielding kindness... it all overlapped in ways that made her chest ache.
Jiraiya leaned in, recounting the brutal clash they'd walked into before reaching Tanzaku—the Akatsuki ambush, the older "brother" with the Flying Thunder God, Naruto's rampage. When he got to the part where Renji had driven a blade straight through his own heart without flinching, just to buy them time, Tsunade felt a sharp echo of pain bloom in her own chest, right where the kid's wound had been.
"But get this—his heart flatlined completely, stone-cold dead... and then, out of nowhere, it kicked back to life like nothing happened. Miracle? Fate? Who the hell knows." Jiraiya shrugged it off with his trademark nonchalance, but inside, the Great Toad Sage's cryptic prophecy echoed in his mind, a nagging whisper he couldn't quite shake. He shot Tsunade one last meaningful look, then pushed back from the table and ambled out into the night.
Back at the inn, Renji hadn't bothered pretending to sleep. He sat cross-legged on the worn floorboards, his back against the wall, watching the moon.
Jiraiya paused in the doorway, his shadow falling long across the room. He reached down and tapped Renji's head lightly with a knuckle. "Bedtime, kid. Get some rest—you've earned it."
Renji mustered a tired smile, nodding as he unfolded his legs and climbed under the covers. But his mind raced on, already plotting the next act.
The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sun cutting through the mist as Jiraiya steered Renji back to Tsunade's door. She answered with her hair tousled from a restless night, but there was a spark in her eyes—a challenge brewing. She fixed Renji with a steady stare and laid out her terms like a gauntlet thrown down.
"If you can pick up the Mystical Palm Technique in no time flat, I'll think about this whole Hokage mess."
Jiraiya caught the undercurrent in her voice, a subtle shift that screamed halfway there. Even if Renji fumbled it, Tsunade was already leaning— all she needed now was that final shove to tip her over the edge.
Shizune, ever the diligent assistant, dashed out to the market and returned with a wriggling live fish in a bucket. She took charge of the lesson, her explanations precise and patient, breaking down the chakra flow, the hand seals, the delicate balance of yin release that made the Mystical Palm Technique a legend in medical ninjutsu. She demonstrated it step by step on the fish, green chakra glowing softly from her palms as the creature's wounds knit seamlessly.
Renji absorbed it all like a sponge, his heaven-defying learning speed turning the impossible into child's play. In under two hours—barely a blink in shinobi terms—he had it down cold, his own hands humming with that same emerald glow.
Shizune's jaw hit the floor, her eyes bulging in utter shock as Renji grabbed her wrist and towed her back to Tsunade's room like an excited puppy with a new toy. "Lady Tsunade! Look!"
But the triumphant reveal hit a snag the moment they burst through the door. There, standing before Tsunade like serpents in the garden, were Orochimaru and Kabuto—pale faces and sly smiles intact, as if they owned the place.
"Lady Tsunade!" Renji's instincts fired on all cylinders, his voice pitching into perfect alarm as he bolted to her side. He wedged himself squarely between her and the snake-like Sannin, arms out like a shield, his small frame radiating defiance.
Kabuto Yakushi: "..."
[Ding!]
[Human Malice Value detected: +100!]
[Cursed Energy converted to Chakra: +100!]
[Chakra (10,333,740 / 100,000,000)]
"Lady Tsunade! Orochimaru's the one who killed Lord Hokage! Whatever lies he's spinning, you can't trust a word of it!" Renji's words tumbled out fierce and unwavering, his body planted firm despite knowing full well who loomed on the other side—one of the Legendary Sannin, a monster in human skin. But fear? Hesitation? Not a trace. He stood his ground, a thirteen-year-old kid playing guardian angel with everything he had.
Orochimaru: "..."
Kabuto Yakushi: "..."
Weren't you humming a different song back in Konoha, kid? All buddy-buddy with us?
[Ding!]
[Human Malice Value detected: +1,000!]
[Cursed Energy converted to Chakra: +1,000!]
[Chakra (10,334,740 / 100,000,000)]
[Ding!]
[Human Malice Value detected: +1,000!]
[Cursed Energy converted to Chakra: +1,000!]
[Chakra (10,335,740 / 100,000,000)]
Still, Orochimaru and Kabuto exchanged a silent glance, a tacit agreement passing between them—no point spilling the beans on Renji's little double-agent dance. The enemy of my enemy is... a temporary ally? Opportunities for round two could always crop up down the line, after all.
"Orochimaru," Tsunade said coolly, her eyes locking onto the snake Sannin with steel-hard resolve. "I won't heal your arms. End of story."
Orochimaru's face twisted, shadows deepening in his golden-slitted eyes, the rejection landing like a venomous bite.
Tsunade's gaze softened as it shifted to Renji, still planted protectively in front of her like a pint-sized barrier. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "In a way... I've already seen Dan and Nawaki again. Right here."
Renji, his back to Tsunade and fully out of her line of sight, shot Orochimaru a quick, conspiratorial wink—subtle as a shadow, but loaded with promise.
Don't sweat it. I can fix those arms of yours.
The realization had hit Renji like lightning while he'd been drilling the Mystical Palm Technique. If Idle Transfiguration could reshape flesh into nightmares and snuff out souls, why not the reverse? Healing was just transfiguration with a kinder twist. Hell, hadn't Mahito patched up Kokichi Muta back in the day, good as new?
Orochimaru didn't quite decode the full message in that sly glance, but a shiver of intuition rippled through him all the same—a whisper that round two of their twisted partnership was already in motion, slithering closer.
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