The battlefield was quiet now. The rain had long since ceased, leaving behind the scent of damp earth and scorched metal. The remnants of war lingered in the air—smoke, sweat, and the faint traces of chakra that still pulsed in the ruined landscape. But the battle was over.
Hanzō of the Salamander had departed, leaving behind not just the bodies of the fallen but also a name—one that would shake the shinobi world. The three figures standing before Renzō and Taji were no longer just Konoha's rising stars. They were legends now. The Sannin.
Jiraiya stretched his arms with an exaggerated groan. "Man, I thought we were goners for sure! That guy really knows how to put on a deathmatch." He shot a glance at Renzō and Taji, his usual grin tempered by something more measured. "Didn't expect to see you two standing around like ghosts."
Tsunade, still catching her breath, turned to Renzō, golden eyes narrowing. "Where the hell have you two been? The war's been raging, and you just… vanished."
Orochimaru remained silent, but his piercing gaze fixed on Renzō. He wasn't just watching—he was analyzing, dissecting. His curiosity, veiled behind that unsettling calm, was impossible to ignore.
Renzō regarded them with his usual stillness. He had seen many warriors in his time, but these three had walked through fire and emerged changed. There was a weight in their posture, an unspoken understanding between them. They had tasted something few survived—battle against a true monster.
Taji, arms crossed, smirked. "You three had your hands full. Didn't seem like you needed us."
Tsunade scoffed. "That's not an answer."
Renzō exhaled softly. "No, it is not."
Jiraiya snorted. "Oh, great. The man of mystery is still a man of mystery."
Renzō stepped forward, looking over the battlefield one last time before settling his gaze on them. "Tell me—what did you feel when you stood against Hanzō?"
The question was unexpected, and for a moment, none of them answered. Then, Jiraiya let out a breath. "Like an ant staring up at a mountain."
Tsunade clenched her fists. "Like every second could be my last."
Orochimaru's expression remained unreadable. "Like a lesson waiting to be learned."
Renzō nodded, as if their answers confirmed something. "Then you have walked a path many never return from. That understanding—the weight of survival—is what changes a warrior into something greater."
Taji chuckled. "And here I thought he was just going to congratulate you on your fancy new title."
Renzō's lips curled slightly at the edges, not quite a smile. "A name given by another is merely a reflection of how the world sees you. What matters is whether you accept it."
Jiraiya rubbed the back of his head. "You always talk like you're in some ancient scroll. Seriously, old man, what's your deal? You some kind of forgotten relic or what?"
Tsunade shot Jiraiya a look, but there was curiosity in her eyes too. "He's right, though. I've never heard of someone like you, Renzō. Who are you, really?"
Orochimaru tilted his head. "More importantly… what are you?"
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of battle away, leaving behind only silence. Renzō considered his words carefully before speaking. "I have had many names, worn many faces. But what I am… is someone who has let go."
Jiraiya frowned. "Let go? Of what?"
Renzō's golden eyes gleamed in the fading light. "Everything."
The three Sannin exchanged glances, the weight of his words sinking in. They had been reshaped by battle, but the man before them… he was something else entirely.
Orochimaru's lips curled into something resembling a smirk. "Intriguing."
Tsunade exhaled, shaking her head. "You're infuriating."
Jiraiya chuckled. "And just a little bit terrifying."
Renzō said nothing, merely watching them. The newly titled Sannin had stepped into the realm of legends, but there were still paths they had yet to walk.
For now, that was enough.