Chapter 63: Confinement! Surveillance of the Jinchūriki!
Following Uzuki Yugao and Yamato, Ren arrived not at the expected Anbu headquarters, but at Konoha Hospital. They moved with practiced silence, scaling the outer wall and settling into the dense foliage of a massive oak tree within the hospital grounds. Their vantage point offered a clear line of sight into the second-floor inpatient wing.
As they landed on the thick branch, three other masked Anbu operatives—already positioned there—turned as one. Their postures didn't change, but the subtle shift in their chakra signatures spoke of instant, professional assessment. Even among allies, Anbu maintained a culture of disciplined paranoia.
"We're the relief detail," Uzuki Yugao stated, her voice low. She produced a mission scroll bearing the Hokage's personal seal.
One of the waiting operatives took it, scanned the contents with a glance, and gave a curt nod. "The watch is yours." Without another word, the three vanished in near-simultaneous shunshin, leaving the branch to the new team.
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[VIP Highlight: Minato Namikaze - "They're doing WHAT to my son?!" ]
"Ren, mission details," Yugao began, her tone all business. "Primary objective: monitor and restrict the movements of the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, Uzumaki Naruto. The containment radius is 100 kilometers from the village perimeter. If the subject attempts to breach this boundary, you are to covertly engineer an incident to force his return. This is a standing order, indefinite, superseded only by direct command from the Hokage."
In simpler terms: house arrest with extra steps. Ren had suspected as much. The best leash for a jinchūriki was a Wood Release user, and Yamato's presence confirmed the mission's true nature.
Minato Namikaze (VIP1): WHAT?! My son lives on subsistence rations and now he's under Anbu surveillance? How could the Third do this to Kushina and me?!
Kushina Uzumaki (VIP1): Spectral wailing. MY NARUTO! He's just a boy! He's not a prisoner!
Tobirama Senju (VIP5): Fourth, control yourself. The monkey's actions, while crude, are pragmatic. Your son is... guileless. Beyond the village, he'd be a target for every power seeking the Kyūbi.
Minato Namikaze: Lord Second! That's my son you're talking about!
Fū (Regular Viewer): Fourth Hokage, please heed this humble monk. Your son has a 100-kilometer range and Anbu protection. That is... considerable leniency. I was confined to a lightless temple cell for twenty years.
Killer B (Regular Viewer): Yo, check it! At least he gets to move! I was locked in a waterfall cave for years, ya fool! Couldn't even practice my rhymes!
Yagura Karatachi (VIP2): Sighs. This is the jinchūriki's curse. The fear others have of our power becomes our cage. Even as a "perfect" jinchūriki, the early years were... isolating.
Hōzuki Jūzō (Regular Viewer): Are you complaining? You were the Mizukage!
Yagura Karatachi: Even Kage are not free from the cage of being a vessel, you turncoat. You wouldn't understand.
Hōzuki Jūzō: Tch. Sounds like a fancy way of saying you had it better than most.
And so, the watch began. Days blended into a monotony of observation, log-keeping, and silent vigilance. Ren, Yugao, and Yamato took shifts, their perch offering a clear view of Naruto's hospital room window. The boy was often visible—pacing, talking to himself, attempting to entertain a sullen Sasuke or a bedridden Sakura.
The tedium was profound. Fortunately, night shifts were covered by other Anbu teams. And having Uzuki Yugao—competent, sharp, and possessing a dry wit beneath her professionalism—as a partner made the hours pass slightly faster. Ren, ever the opportunist, engaged her in subtle verbal sparring, probing for information masked as casual conversation.
Three days passed in this slow, watchful rhythm.
On the fourth morning, change stirred in the hospital ward.
Uchiha Sasuke, moving with stiff but determined grace, removed the urinary catheter himself, discarding the bag with an expression of profound relief and renewed anger. Across the room, Haruno Sakura completed her final rehabilitation exercises, her movements still cautious but no longer pained. Modern medical ninjutsu accelerated healing dramatically; only genetic or chakra-based illnesses like Itachi's posed long-term challenges.
"Damn that Ren," Sasuke muttered, testing his weight on his previously injured leg. "Next time... I won't lose."
Hearing the name, Sakura's face twisted with indignant fury. "That... that brute! How dare he attack a lady! Does he think his looks give him a free pass to be a monster?"
Naruto, ever the peacemaker (or agitator), chimed in loudly. "Sakura-chan! Don't get too mad! The medic-nin said if girls get too angry, they can get... lady problems!"
WHACK!
A fist met blond hair. "SHUT UP, NARUTO!"
As the predictable chaos unfolded, a familiar poof of smoke erupted in the center of the room.
Kakashi Hatake materialized, one eye glued to his orange book. His visible eye lazily swept over Sakura and Sasuke, assessing their condition.
"Good. You're mobile." He snapped his book closed. "Team 7's first C-rank is ready. We leave in two hours. Meet at the main gates. Don't be late."
In the tree outside, Ren's passive Sharingan—constantly active at a minimal, low-chakra level for enhanced perception—tracked the chakra fluctuations within the room. He saw Sasuke's spike of competitive fire, Sakura's simmering resentment, Naruto's bright, chaotic energy.
Ren Arakawa (subvocalizing): A C-rank. Outside the village. Interesting.
Yamato, beside him, shifted slightly. "The jinchūriki is leaving the containment zone. We'll need to shadow them. Yugao, you're with me on primary tracking. Ren, you're support and observation. Maintain distance. Intervene only if the jinchūriki is in direct, mortal danger or attempts to breach the 100-km radius."
Ren nodded. "Understood."
But his mind was already racing. A C-rank mission for Team 7. In the original timeline, that meant the Land of Waves. Meant Zabuza. Meant Haku. Meant the first real blooding for the new generation.
And it meant his internship just got a lot more interesting.
As Kakashi herded his team out of the hospital room below, Ren felt a strange duality. He was both guard and prisoner of this destiny, watching from the shadows as the story he knew unfolded, now with himself as a hidden variable.
Uzuki Yugao glanced at him, her masked head tilting slightly. "You're thinking something. Don't. Our job is to watch, not interfere."
Ren met her gaze through his fox mask. "Just considering the variables, senpai. A C-rank for a team with two recently hospitalized members... it's an interesting risk assessment by the Hokage."
Yamato's voice was flat. "Our assessment is not required. Our orders are."
Of course, Ren thought. Follow orders. Observe. Don't think. But as Team 7 left the hospital, heading toward the village gates and their fate, Ren's new Sharingan recorded every detail, every chakra signature, every possible outcome.
The watch was over. The pursuit was beginning.
And somewhere in the Pure Land, Minato Namikaze watched his son march toward danger, guarded by shadows, and felt a father's helpless rage war with a Hokage's grim understanding.
The life of a jinchūriki was never their own. Not even for the son of a hero.