Jiren passed through the main gates of Konoha with a barely concealed scowl. The guards greeted him politely, as protocol demanded for a guest of his rank, but that did little to improve his mood. For nearly a month now, he and his subordinates had been camping in concealed positions across the Fire Country—obeying orders, keeping low, enduring the strain of isolation and secrecy. It was unpleasant, but necessary.
Every night, at least, he could enter Yumegakure in dreams—where he could make contact either with Fū or, more cautiously, with the Iron Princess herself. Through that channel, he would always know when she planned to leave Konoha.
Earlier that week, through the veiled dream-space of Yumegakure, the Iron Princess herself had contacted him. Her presence had been calm, assertive, and unmistakable. She had extended a personal invitation—Jiren was to attend a wedding being held in Konoha. Not just as a formality, but as a witness. After the ceremony, she would be leaving the village… and she expected complications.
The message was simple, but its implications were not. And now, walking through enemy territory under polite surveillance, Jiren could feel the weight of that warning pressing subtly on his mind.
He walked with measured steps, his cloak dusted with travel and his eyes sharp beneath the brim of his headpiece. Behind him trailed two shinobi in dark garb, alert and silent.
The Konoha shinobi at the gate escorted them without issue, assigning them a guest residence within a more secluded compound. A safe distance from the Hokage Tower… but close enough for monitoring.
Two days. Just two days, Jiren reminded himself. Then they could leave.
Even so, he felt eyes on him—constant, subtle, practiced. It was expected, but annoying. He adjusted his gloves, his gaze lingering briefly on the rooftops where shadows moved too perfectly to be natural.
Konoha was more than just powerful—it was structured. The formations hidden beneath its streets hummed with layered defense. He could feel the intent behind its layout, like pressure points in a human body. A matrix of chakra barriers, emotional fields, and subtle deterrents that only a formation master like himself could truly notice. What frustrated Jiren wasn't just the sophistication of Konoha's defenses—it was the freedom its power afforded. Civilians moved openly, with confidence, unguarded in ways that would be unthinkable in Takigakure. In Taki, even the children learned to be discreet, to hide their chakra presence and avoid drawing attention. Here, the people didn't fear—they trusted the village's strength. That difference irked him more than he cared to admit.
"I hate this village," he muttered under his breath—not just for its power, but for the quiet truth that it reminded him how far behind his home still was.
Still, he entered the compound without protest. This was not the time to spark conflict. He had his reasons for being here—and none of them involved petty provocations.
<<<< o >>>>
The courtyard of the Sarutobi compound was transformed into a scene of gentle splendor. Soft lantern light glowed beneath sakura branches, petals drifting lazily through the air like nature's own blessings. The ceremony had been set at sunset, when the sky blushed with amber and rose, casting a warm hue over the assembled guests.
The turnout was far grander than anyone had initially imagined. The presence of Lord Takama Gin, Daimyō of the Land of Iron, had elevated the occasion to one of political and cultural significance. In response, the Daimyō of the Land of Fire arrived personally with his wife, their arrival marked by elegant fanfare and guarded retinues. The prestige it brought to the Sarutobi clan was undeniable—especially after the loss of the Third Hokage.
Within this sea of nobles, shinobi, and familiar faces, Hinata Gin moved with quiet grace. Her formal robes shimmered with delicate embroidery of silver cranes. She exchanged greetings with those she had long ties to—Sakura, Shikamaru, Kiba, Shino, Chōji, Ino, Rock Lee, Tenten, Neji, Gai, and Kakashi. Even the Hyūga patriarch and Hanabi stood present, representing the clan with solemn dignity.
Tsunade, the Hokage herself, arrived in a subdued but stately manner, her presence both honoring and watching over the event. When she passed Hinata, she gave her a faint nod—equal parts respect and curiosity.
A hush settled over the crowd as Kurenai appeared from within the main residence, escorted by Anko and Lady Maeko. Her kimono was deep crimson with soft floral accents, her hair tied back simply, allowing her natural beauty to shine. Asuma, already waiting by the altar, stood in traditional robes with the Sarutobi clan emblem proudly displayed.
A Nara elder officiated the ceremony, his voice low and firm as he guided the couple through the ancient rites. They exchanged their vows not just as shinobi, but as equals—two warriors who had chosen to build a future from peace, not war.
They shared three sips of sake—one for past, one for present, one for the life they would build. Asuma placed the Sarutobi ring on Kurenai's hand. She, in turn, fastened a crimson bead around his wrist—a charm of protection and rootedness.
As the final blessings were spoken, a breeze carried petals through the open courtyard. Some whispered it was the spirit of the Third Hokage smiling on them.
Hinata stood slightly to the side, watching with warmth. She wasn't alone. Near her, Hanabi and Rin giggled over something whispered, while Kuro sat calmly by Taro's side, her dark coat shining like onyx.
The guests bowed as the couple took their first steps together under the ceremonial arch of bamboo. With each step, the soft toll of a wind chime overhead rang out—a new bond formed, a future begun.
<<<< o >>>>
The ceremony had ended over an hour ago, but the celebration lingered like the last embers of a ceremonial flame. Lanterns swayed above mingling guests, shinobi and nobles alike laughing more freely than usual, their guards lowered under the weight of sake and spring air.
In a more secluded corner, Jiren leaned against a support beam, scanning the gathering with practiced calm. Even here, surrounded by cheer, his senses remained sharp—watchful. And then he saw her: Hinata Gin, walking toward him, her father Takama at her side. Their movements were slow, intentional. She wasn't alone.
Another boy followed—a young man whose eyes held coiled tension and trauma. Someone dangerous. Someone familiar yet unknown... behind his ear he heard the voice of his ever-present tormentor...
yes… yes... work with the newcomer and destroy her. This parasite never shut up
Jiren straightened slightly, already wary. This wasn't the kind of meeting he liked. Too open. Too... arranged.
Hinata offered a gentle smile. "Jiren, this is Ren. Like you, he has a rather… unique story. But more importantly, you both share something in common. Tonight, we'd like to offer you a gift."
Jiren's eyes flicked toward Takama, and every cell in his body went taut. The man's gaze wasn't just sharp—it was murderous, restrained by will alone. Like a blade just barely sheathed. Jiren had seen killers. He was one. But this wasn't a killer.
This was an executioner waiting for a legal excuse.
"I don't yet see what needs cutting," Takama muttered, voice low and grave. But Jiren could feel it—he wanted to cut. Wanted Jiren to give him a reason.
Then Hinata reached out, gently placing her hand on her father's shoulder. When her eyes opened, Jiren saw it—silver light, not just in her gaze, but within her presence. And then the parasite in his spine howled in fear.
Kill them! it shrieked. They know! They'll destroy you! Strike first!
He did nothing. Gritting his teeth, he endured.
Takama murmured, "Ah, now I see it... Honestly, I hope it hurts. No offense, Ren."
Takama's hand moved. So fast Jiren couldn't register it—only the sound of the blade sliding back into its sheath told him anything had happened.
Agony surged through him. Not physical, but soul-deep. A searing fire that tore through layers he didn't know he had. He couldn't scream. Couldn't move. Only endure.
Next to him, Ren collapsed, just as frozen in torment.
Hinata bowed. Takama gave a short, cold nod.
Then they turned and walked away.
When the pain finally ebbed, Jiren collapsed to one knee, chest heaving. He blinked sweat from his eyes. Something was wrong—no. Something was missing.
Silence.
For the first time since that cursed presence had embedded itself in him, the whispers were gone. The parasite… silenced.
And despite everything, despite the fury, the humiliation, the pain...
Jiren smiled.
He was free.
<<<< o >>>>
Rōshi stood alone in the White Space, the infinite expanse around him glowing with soft, ambient light. The absence of shadows and direction gave the sensation of floating without moving. Before him stood two figures: one he recognized immediately—Hinata Gin. The other was an older woman, regal in bearing, clothed in flowing silks with symbols of the moon and earth embroidered upon them.
Rōshi's eyes narrowed. He had seen this woman before—she was the mysterious priestess currently being tracked by two Iwa shinobi teams. Her presence in the Land of Earth had been stirring unrest. Strange patterns had emerged in her wake: villages experiencing sudden bursts of creativity, artisans discovering new inspiration, bureaucrats solving logistical problems that had stumped them for months. It had unsettled the Tsuchikage greatly. And now she stood here beside the person who had brought her across their borders: Hinata Gin.
Rōshi instinctively shifted into a defensive stance.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Rōshi-sama," Hinata said softly, bowing her head with grace. "Forgive this sudden meeting… I asked the priestess to help me arrange it. She kindly agreed."
He raised a brow. "This is… a kind of long-distance communication, then?"
Hinata nodded. "Something like that. This space is meant to welcome visitors to another place. But that's not why I asked for you to come here today."
She stepped forward, hands folded in front of her. "Some time ago, I left a small box with Lord Renji. Inside is a talisman with two properties. The first—it allows its bearer to recover faster from the toll of using their bijū's chakra. The second—it gives a real chance that if the beast were extracted, the host might survive."
Rōshi blinked. "You're serious…? That's not something I expected to hear."
"Entirely," Hinata replied, her tone unwavering. "This talisman is made from a unique stone. It cannot be replicated. And once it is attuned to a host, it cannot be transferred. I wanted you to have it. It is… part of a legacy, and I believe you will treat it with the weight it deserves."
She hesitated briefly, then continued, "I am aware you will likely report this to the Tsuchikage. That's expected. You should also know: my father holds a second talisman, tuned for the host of the Five-Tails. It remains hidden in the Land of Iron. If it interests your village, I'm sure my father would be willing to negotiate a fair exchange."
Rōshi stood still, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing. He stared at Hinata, truly seeing her for the first time.
"You're not what I expected either," he said finally.
Hinata bowed once more. "If you wish to leave this space, you may. You'll find two doors behind you—a red one, and a blue one. The red door leads to a place—a dream realm filled with infinite possibilities. It is the main cause of the changes that you have surely begun to notice in the Land of earth. If you ever wish to awaken, all you need to do is… will it, and it will happen."
She looked into his eyes, voice softer now. "The blue door will return you to your own dreams—memories of the lands you've walked and the self you've carried. But the only enemy there will be the one you bring with you. I hope your journey—whichever you choose—will be meaningful."
With that, Hinata faded like mist, leaving Rōshi in the silence of the White Space. He turned slowly.
Two doors stood behind him: one red, one blue. And only his heart would decide which to open.