Chapter 94: Hemorrhagic Haggling
The small room was thick with tension that had nothing to do with the mist outside. Tazuna hovered over his pale grandson, hands wringing, face etched with a fear deeper than any he'd shown for his own life. Chiyo-nee (as the narrative now dubbed Tsunami, for she was indeed cleaning up a mess) pressed a clean cloth to Inari's still-oozing nose, her own face pale.
"Too much blood lost," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mother's terror disguised as clinical assessment. "Shock is setting in. His pulse is weak, thready."
Kakashi's single eye was sharp, drilling into Naruto and Sasuke, who stood like guilty statues against the wall. "An accident during training," he repeated Ren's words, his tone flat with disbelief. "An accident that causes… this level of hemorrhaging?"
Naruto stared at his feet, his usual bluster utterly deflated. Sasuke's jaw was clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. The shame of it—not the injury, but the absurd, humiliating cause—was a poison they couldn't spit out.
"The town hospital," Kakashi decided, sheathing his orange book with finality. "I'll take him. I can make the run in twenty minutes."
"The jostling will kill him before you get there," Chiyo-nee said, her voice cracking. "And even if you bring a doctor back… the equipment, the blood… we don't have time!"
A cold, pragmatic dread settled over Kakashi. A mission failure was one thing. A mission that resulted in the client's grandchild dying from a ninja's idiotic parlor trick? That was a diplomatic and reputational catastrophe of the highest order. Konoha's credibility would bleed out alongside the boy.
"Then I'll—"
"Move."
The word was quiet, but it cut through the panic. Ren shouldered past Kakashi, his expression unreadable. He knelt beside the makeshift pallet, his gaze clinical as he assessed Inari's waxen complexion, the shallow breaths.
"Ren?" Kakashi's voice held a warning. "This isn't the time for—"
Ren ignored him. He placed a hand, palm down, over Inari's chest. A soft, verdant green light—the unmistakable hue of medical ninjutsu—bloomed from his fingertips, bathing the boy's face in an eerie, healing glow.
The room fell utterly silent, save for Inari's ragged breathing.
Kakashi's eye widened. Medical ninjutsu? Since when?
[Hashirama Senju: Ah! The Mystical Palm Technique! You're using it to save a life. Good. This technique was meant for preservation, not destruction.]
[Tobirama Senju: A noble sentiment, brother. But look at the child. He's lost vital fluids. The Mystical Palm stimulates cellular regeneration and fights infection, but it doesn't replace blood volume. It's like polishing the handle of a bucket with a hole in the bottom.]
The analysis was cold, accurate.
[Kushina Uzumaki: REN! YOU HAVE TO SAVE HIM! IF NARUTO BECOMES A CHILD-KILLER, I'LL… I'LL HAUNT YOU FROM THE PURE LAND!]
[Minato Namikaze: Please, Ren! We're counting on you!]
[Uchiha Madara: Sentimental drivel. Death is a constant. The boy's weakness is his own failing. The orange one's idiocy merely revealed it.]
[Minato Namikaze: He's an innocent! We protect the innocent! That's what separates Konoha from—]
[Uchiha Madara: From what? From efficiency? Spare me.]
Ren's mental voice cut through the familial pleading and philosophical debate, sharp and businesslike. Enough chatter. Your brother's right, Hashirama. The Mystical Palm is a bandage. This child needs a transfusion, or a miracle. I need the real thing. Your Creation Rebirth.
The psychic channel seemed to short-circuit for a second.
[Tobirama Senju: YOU INSATIABLE GREED-GOBLIN! YOU'RE USING A DYING CHILD AS LEVERAGE FOR MY BROTHER'S ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE?!]
[Uchiha Madara: Appreciative snort Now that's ruthless. I retract my earlier criticism. The boy has a merchant's soul.]
[Uchiha Izuna: Hashirama's Creation Rebirth… the ability to regenerate from near-fatal wounds without hand seals… if he gets that, coupled with what he already has…]
[Uchiha Madara: He'd be a nuisance. But not a true threat. Hashirama's regeneration was tied to his specific, absurdly potent life force and Wood Release. Without that foundation, it's just a fancy first-aid kit.]
Ren pressed on, ignoring the commentary. Tick-tock, Hashirama. The boy's heart rhythm is getting erratic. Konoha's reputation is bleeding out on this floor. A little 'Creation Rebirth' donation now, or a lot of explaining to the Daimyō later. Your choice.
He let the threat hang—not just to the boy, but to the legacy of the Will of Fire Hashirama so cherished.
[Hashirama Senju: …You would use my love for Konoha against me.]
I'm using your love to save a Konoha client, Ren countered. And prevent your Fourth Hokage's son from becoming a pariah. Think of it as… preventative diplomacy.
A long, heavy psychic sigh, carrying the weight of forests and regret.
[Hashirama Senju: …Very well.]
[Tobirama Senju: BROTHER, NO!]
[System Alert: Donation Received! Senju Hashirama has donated 'Creation Rebirth – Kōton: Jukai Kōtan' (Wood Release: Advent of a World of Flowering Trees) – S-Rank Regenerative Kekkei Mōra!]
Knowledge, vast and profound, flooded Ren's mind. Not just the technique, but the underlying principle—the conversion of life force into instantaneous, catastrophic cellular regeneration. It was a blueprint for cheating death. And as Madara had predicted, Ren could feel the staggering chakra cost and the specific biological resonance it demanded—a resonance tied intrinsically to Hashirama's unique cells. He could use it, but not like Hashirama could. It would be a drain, a last resort, not a passive state.
But it was enough. For this.
The green glow around his hand intensified, then shifted. Tiny, almost invisible motes of light—simulated pollen, the ghost of wood release—seemed to drift from his palm and sink into Inari's skin. The effect wasn't the world-shattering regeneration of the God of Shinobi. It was subtler. Inari's pallor didn't vanish, but a faint, healthy pink returned to his lips. His shallow, rapid breaths deepened and slowed. The terrifying weakness in his pulse steadied, growing stronger, more regular.
Chiyo-nee gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Tazuna stared, tears of a different kind now in his eyes. The bleeding from Inari's nose stopped completely.
Kakashi watched, his Sharingan (uncovered at some point without anyone noticing) recording every fluctuation of chakra, every microscopic change in the boy's physiology. He saw the limitation, the strain hidden behind Ren's calm façade. But he also saw the result. The child would live.
Ren withdrew his hand, the light fading. He stood up, his face slightly paler than before. "He'll be weak for a few days. Needs rest, fluids, iron-rich food. But the crisis is over."
The sheer, unadulterated relief in the room was a tangible force.
In the Pure Land, the reactions were mixed.
[Minato Namikaze: THANK YOU, REN! YOU SAVED MY BOY FROM A LIFE OF GUILT!]
[Kushina Uzumaki: Sobbing psychic noise Thank you… thank you…]
[Uchiha Madara: A transaction completed. How… mercantile.]
[Tobirama Senju: My brother's greatest technique, bartered for the life of a bridge-builder's grandson. The world has indeed grown small and cheap.]
Ren paid them no mind. He looked at Kakashi. "We should post a watch. Zabuza's apprentice was in the woods earlier. Observing. They know we're distracted now."
The reminder was a bucket of ice water. The domestic crisis was averted, but the professional one had just escalated. They had shown vulnerability. They had shown they could be drawn off-mission by internal drama.
Kakashi nodded, his eye hardening back into that of the Copy Ninja. "Agreed. Ren, you're with me. First watch. Naruto, Sasuke—you're on cleanup and then rest. You've done enough… training for one night."
As they moved to take up positions, Ren's mind was already racing, cross-referencing the new, immense knowledge of Creation Rebirth with his existing arsenal. It was a tool, a powerful one. And like all tools, its value lay in how it was used.
And somewhere in the cold, watching mist, a hunter with a heart of ice had just seen the Konoha ninja perform what looked like a miracle of healing.
That changed the calculation too. A team with a medic capable of near-instant recovery was a much harder target to wear down.
The night's second act was about to begin. And the stakes had just been raised on both sides.