269-Perks of being a Snitch

Renjiro took a slow, steadying breath as he stood there, his right eye held carefully in his hand, cradled as though it were the most delicate treasure.

Fresh blood slipped through his fingers and dripped onto the wooden floor below, where the drops pooled into deep red circles that spread out across the wood. Blood trickled down from his empty eye socket, hot against his skin, carving a line down his cheek like a single tear made of red.

Just before he could go ahead with what he wanted to do, Renjiro's Sharingan activated involuntarily, casting a faint, blood-coloured glow across the room.

His surroundings, now seen through the single eye, appeared sharper, more precise—but also oddly lopsided. He could see in precise clarity the way his blood smeared across his hand, the vividness of each splattered drop on the floor, and the flickering shadows cast by the faint moonlight coming in from the narrow window.

He let his hand fall to his side, taking a few moments to steady his breathing and adjust to the singular vision. Memories stirred from a time he had fought Ohashi in the same condition, remembering the strain and the need for a careful strategy when his perception was halved.

With a quiet exhale, he turned and stepped slowly across the room, making his way to a small, unassuming cupboard on the far wall. His fingers brushed along the rough wood, feeling for the subtle mark he'd etched beneath it.

Renjiro raised his left thumb to his mouth and bit down, breaking the skin with a sharp, controlled nip. A small trickle of blood appeared, and he pressed his bleeding thumb to the base of the cupboard.

The blood seeped into the wood, and faint markings began to emerge—a spiral, twisting outward into a delicate network of symbols. It was a complicated design for a seal, something he'd spent months perfecting.

After a few moments, there was a soft click, and the cupboard door slid open with a slight creak. Inside, resting on a carefully secured shelf, was a small jar filled with a faintly glowing, blue liquid.

Renjiro reached inside, taking the jar in his bloodstained hands. The liquid swirled slightly as he held it, shimmering with an ethereal glow. This chakra-infused water was precious, crafted from a delicate balance of his own chakra and rare minerals, all meant to preserve his eye without allowing its power to degrade.

This time, he wasn't going to risk the same mistake he'd made with the previous eye, which had deteriorated from exposure. Placing his Sharingan in this chakra water would keep it stable and dormant until when he would use it.

With slow, deliberate movements, he lowered his hand and carefully dropped his eye into the jar.

"Plop."

It floated briefly before sinking slightly, suspended in the liquid as a small bubble rose to the surface and burst with a faint pop. Renjiro watched the eye, his face grim and focused.

He muttered to himself, his voice just above a whisper, "I'm not sure how many I'll need to finally get the Mangekyo Sharingan. Maybe two… maybe four, considering they're all from the same source. But at least now, I have one."

Renjiro moved to a washbasin in the corner, where he poured water over his hands, watching the blood swirl and dilute before draining away. The cold water stung against where the open wound on his thumb was, but he barely registered the pain.

Once his hands were clean, he dried them and then carefully placed the jar back into the cupboard. He couldn't leave it unprotected, and he paused to think through the steps.

The seal he'd placed on the cupboard was a product of months of work, designed so that only his blood could unlock it. It was highly unlikely that anyone could break it, but Renjiro knew enough about the world to realize that nothing was truly foolproof.

If someone were skilled enough—or if they had intimate knowledge of Uzumaki sealing techniques—perhaps they could find a way through. But even then, Renjiro had taken further precautions.

After the magatama ritual, his chakra was unique, something he wasn't even certain Miwa's blood could bypass. Still, he wasn't about to underestimate potential threats.

Kneeling, he began to layer a secondary seal on top of the first, adding more complexity, and more steps that any intruder would have to overcome. He could feel the burn of chakra as he channelled it into the intricate marks, etching them carefully into the cupboard's wood.

Once the seal was complete, Renjiro stepped back, studying his work. His hands were steady, his mind calm. Only when he finished did he let his shoulders relax, feeling a hint of the exhaustion from his recent mission and the process he had just undertaken.

As he stood there, he couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Maybe I should have used the eye to break any lingering genjutsu I have on me?"

The thought stirred a faint sense of unease. He knew Miwa had placed a genjutsu on him, to protect him from what had happened. She'd done it with good intentions, and in some ways, he understood why she'd gone to such lengths.

But understanding the intentions did not mean that he was comfortable with it. Knowing that he didn't have full control over his actions left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Renjiro's eye narrowed as he considered it further. He knew that breaking the genjutsu would require more than his base Sharingan. To fully dispel it, he'd likely need to unlock the Four Tomoe Sharingan—something he couldn't use without embedding the eye back into his body and opening the gates he currently had access to.

The idea of trying to control the Four Tomoe Sharingan outside his body was intriguing, but he knew it was impractical. For now, it would remain a future experiment, a possibility to revisit once he had more eyes stored.

He sank into a nearby chair, his thoughts drifting. The wood felt solid beneath him, grounding him in the moment. His hand rested on the armrest, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he murmured,

"Maybe I should place Obito in a genjutsu. That could make things easier in the long run."

The thought lingered, tempting him. If he could use the Sharingan to influence Obito, it might change the course of everything. But the idea was quickly discarded—Madara had already awakened the Rinnegan by now, a power so immense that even his carefully placed genjutsu would be unlikely to go unnoticed.

A faint sigh escaped him, and he shook his head. "No… the risk is too great. And besides," he added with a grim smile,

"I've already taken enough risks for one night."

Renjiro reached for a roll of bandages on the nearby table, preparing to tend to his empty eye socket. His bleeding had already stopped but he had to cover the empty socket. He wound the cloth carefully, each turn precise, covering the wound with practised ease.

The sensation was strange—a hollow ache beneath the bandage, a reminder of what he had willingly sacrificed in his pursuit of strength.

As he worked, his mind wandered back to his plans, the intricate strategies he'd begun weaving. Taking out his eye was a risk, one that would likely keep him out of action for a few days. He could only hope there wouldn't be a mission before he had time to recover; explaining his missing eye to his team was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"That all aside… what next?" he muttered, tightening the bandage around his head. He knew that this was only one step in a larger plan, a small sacrifice for a greater goal.

He tapped his fingers against the armrest again, a habit whenever he was lost in thought. The events with Daichi came to mind. To lure him into loyalty, Daichi had granted him unrestricted access to the private library, a tantalizing offer that held promises of forbidden knowledge—techniques like Izanami and Izanagi, techniques that could alter fate itself. Something that Renjiro termed as perks of being a snitch.

"Izanami and Izanagi…" he mused, his fingers still tapping. "I could learn them now if I wanted to. But without more eyes stored away, I can't risk it. Not yet."

Renjiro leaned back, feeling a sense of calm as he settled his thoughts. He knew that the time would come when he'd be ready when he'd have enough eyes to experiment freely. But until then, he needed to be patient, to plan each step with precision.

As he rose to return the jar to its hidden cupboard, a thought crossed his mind. He needed more defensive jutsus. His fingers brushed over the seal, reaffirming its power.

"I need more defensive jutsus in my repertoire," he murmured, making a mental note to study further, to develop techniques that would safeguard him from the eyes of others.

Looking down at his bandaged face, he sighed. "I can't be seen around the village like this." His mind drifted to the Floating Islands, a place where he could go undisturbed, where he wouldn't have to worry about prying eyes or questions. He felt a sense of resolve settle over him.

"Looks like I'll be heading back to the Floating Islands for a while," he said to himself, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

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