Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The two Kumo shinobi finished their smoking session with languid movements, stubbing out their pipes against the wall and flicking the remains onto the ground. One of them gave a lazy stretch, muttering something unintelligible about an upcoming shift, while the other nodded in agreement.

"Better get moving before the captain has our heads," the raspy-voiced shinobi said, his tone half-serious, half-resigned.

With a faint rustle of fabric, they disappeared into the night, their footsteps blending with the distant hum of activity from Miyahira.

Renjiro remained in the shadows, his breath even and measured as he watched them leave. When he was certain he was alone, he allowed his thoughts to surface.

'Is this what Jiraiya meant?'

Jiraiya had spoken in passing about Kumogakure's rumoured breakthroughs in harnessing tailed beast power. Renjiro's mind churned as he pieced the puzzle together. The idea of Kumo choosing a new Jinchūriki now, of all times, was too convenient to be a coincidence.

'No,' Renjiro thought, 'He said breakthroughs. This isn't just about picking someone new—it's about enhancing them, making their Jinchūriki a weapon even deadlier than before.'

His gaze turned distant, and his thoughts narrowed in on the implications. 'Killer Bee is already the Jinchūriki of the Eight-Tails, so they must be talking about Matatabi, the Two-Tails.'

Renjiro's jaw tightened as he considered the process of getting a new Jinchūriki.

It wasn't just a logistical operation—it was a moment of vulnerability for any shinobi village. The act of transferring or containing a tailed beast could cause chaos, and even the most carefully laid plans could crumble under the weight of unforeseen disasters.

He thought of Kushina and the stories she had shared with him about the fragile balance of being a Jinchūriki.

The image of Kushina giving birth flashed in his mind—a future event fraught with danger, not just from the inherent risks of childbirth but from the delicate control required to keep the Nine-Tails in check. Everything had to be perfect despite it being a volatile situation where everything could go wrong.

Renjiro sighed quietly, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the distant rooftops. 'Kumo's security isn't even enough. They're confident, but confidence can be a double-edged sword.'

It puzzled him.

Kumogakure had a reputation for strategic brilliance, yet Miyahira's security didn't reflect the gravity of the situation. Perhaps they underestimated the risks, or perhaps they believed their defensive measures were impenetrable.

"But still," Renjiro whispered to himself, his voice barely audible against the night breeze, "why did Hashirama even share the tailed beasts in the first place?"

It was a question that had long lingered in the back of his mind. Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, had divided the tailed beasts among the shinobi villages as a gesture of peace, yet the act had only fueled an arms race.

Dealing with the tailed beasts was no small feat—villages poured endless resources into controlling them, and the beasts themselves were as much a liability as they were an asset.

'Was it naïveté or foresight?' Renjiro mused. 'Did Hashirama believe the villages would be forced to cooperate, or did he simply want to share the burden of their destruction?'

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Philosophical debates wouldn't help him now. What mattered was the present, and the fact that Kumo's advancements with tailed beasts could tip the balance of power in their favour.

'I need to see their research facility.'

Renjiro moved with purpose, his steps silent as he navigated the winding streets of Miyahira. The town was deceptively lively for the late hour—merchants unloading goods, shinobi patrolling in pairs, and the occasional civilian hurrying home.

Despite the activity, Renjiro slipped through unnoticed, his transformation technique flawless and his instincts guiding him away from potential threats.

It wasn't long before he found what he was looking for.

It was easier than he expected as the research facility stood at the heart of Miyahira, an imposing structure that dominated the skyline. Its architecture was a testament to Kumogakure's engineering prowess—sleek and modern, with reinforced walls that seemed to shimmer faintly under the glow of nearby lanterns.

The building was surrounded by layers of defences: high walls etched with intricate seals, watchtowers manned by sharp-eyed shinobi, and patrols that moved with military precision.

Renjiro crouched on a rooftop a safe distance away, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"I take it back," he muttered under his breath. "This thing is heavily guarded."

The facility's presence was a statement in itself. It wasn't just a research centre—it was a fortress, a nerve centre for Kumogakure's most ambitious projects. Renjiro couldn't help but compare it to Konoha's facilities, and for once, he found himself begrudgingly impressed.

'They're not pulling any punches. This place might even rival what we have back home.'

But it wasn't the architecture or the seals that unsettled him—it was the chakra.

Renjiro's instincts prickled as he focused on the individuals stationed throughout the facility. Without even activating his Sharingan or expanding his chakra field, he could sense their overwhelming presence. Six shinobi, their power radiating like bonfires in the night, were stationed at key points around the perimeter.

"Six S-rank shinobi… and they're broadcasting their presence like warning bells," Renjiro muttered under his breath.

The shinobi guarding the facility weren't just stationed—they were flaunting their power, their chakra signatures blazing like beacons. Each of them seemed to claim a portion of the perimeter, daring any would-be infiltrators to make a move.

'If this is the outside, what's inside must be something Kumo wants to protect at all costs.'

Renjiro adjusted his position, scanning the facility for weaknesses. He knew this wasn't going to be simple. The security measures were layered, each more formidable than the last.

'Getting in will take everything I have—and even then, it might not be enough.'

As Renjiro plotted his next steps, the faint sound of commotion reached his ears. It was distant at first, a ripple of noise from the direction of the town's main gate. He ignored it at first, focusing instead on mapping the guards' movements, but the sound grew louder—a steady drumbeat of footsteps and low voices.

Unbeknownst to Renjiro, a group of shinobi was entering Miyahira under the cover of night. Twenty strong, their ranks were composed of elite chūnin and jōnin, each moving with disciplined precision. At their centre was an old woman who stood out starkly against the youthful energy of her comrades.

Hano Ayame.

Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight, tied neatly into a bun that hinted at her meticulous and aggressive nature. Though her face was lined with the marks of age, her posture was unyielding, and her steps carried a quiet power. She wore the traditional Kumogakure uniform, but the intricate embroidery on her cloak marked her as someone of great importance.

The other shinobi flanked her like an honour guard, their wary glances scanning their surroundings even as they maintained formation. Despite the presence of over twenty skilled fighters, it was Ayame who commanded the most attention.

Her chakra radiated outward, a simmering heat that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. To those sensitive enough to feel it, it was a silent declaration: 'I am the Jinchūriki of the Two-Tails. Challenge me at your peril.'

The group passed through the streets of Miyahira, their arrival noted by the watchful eyes of the townspeople. Whispers followed in their wake—rumours and speculations that only added to the mystique surrounding Ayame.

Back in the shadows, Renjiro remained oblivious to the arrival. His focus was entirely on the research facility, the guards, and the daunting task ahead. But even as he continued his surveillance, the pieces of Kumogakure's grand strategy were falling into place around him, their implications far greater than he could yet comprehend.

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