Renjiro's sharp, dark eyes held no emotion as he bent down, his fingers brushing the cold skin of Ohashi's body. Gently, he lifted the corpse in his arms, the dead weight heavy, yet somehow light in comparison to the gravity of the situation.
With quiet, deliberate movements, Renjiro carried the body across the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. Finally, he reached the flat stone slab he had prepared earlier. He laid Ohashi's body down carefully, adjusting the limbs so that they were aligned perfectly.
Renjiro then placed his palms on top of Ohashi's forehead. The coldness of the dead man's head seeped into Renjiro's skin, but he didn't flinch. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, feeling the pull of chakra within him.
He was planning on reading the fallen jounins memories but As his chakra flowed through his body, he felt a strange sensation, like his consciousness was being tugged from his own mind, drawn away from the physical world.
His breathing slowed, heart rate dropped as the room around him began to dissolve. His mind was being pulled, stretched thin, and then—
"Whoosh."
In an instant, Renjiro was no longer in his basement.
He felt weightless like he was floating, drifting in some ethereal plane. He opened his eyes—or at least, he thought he did—but instead of his familiar surroundings, he found himself in a world that was dulled and grey, like life had been drained from it.
The sky above was overcast with a perpetual haze, a suffocating silence hanging over everything. He stood on a barren patch of land, the ground cracked and lifeless beneath his feet, as if it hadn't seen rain in years.
Nearby, an old wooden shack sat in disrepair, its roof sagging under the weight of neglect, the walls barely holding together.
Renjiro frowned, his mind racing. "Where am I?"
He tried to say the words aloud, but nothing came out. Panic shot through him as he realized that he couldn't speak. Worse still, he couldn't move. His muscles were locked, stiff as if bound by some invisible force. His heartbeat quickened, pounding in his chest like a drum.
'I can't move…' he thought, the realization sinking in, cold and unsettling.
He had performed this technique many times before—diving into someone's memories, experiencing their past—but this was different.
Usually, the sensation was fluid, like a seamless transition into another's mind. He would see the memories unfold around him, vivid and clear, but he would always remain in control. This... this was different. He felt trapped, bound by some unseen force, and the unease was quickly escalating into dread.
'This isn't right.'
Renjiro's thoughts raced as he strained against the paralysis, trying to regain control of his body, his chakra, anything. He couldn't even turn his head to look around, and the sense of helplessness gnawed at him.
'What's going on? This isn't how it's supposed to work.'
It was then that he heard it—footsteps. The soft crunch of dirt underfoot echoed from behind him, growing louder with each step. His pulse quickened again, instinct urging him to turn and face whoever—or whatever—was approaching. But he couldn't. His body remained frozen, locked in place as the footsteps drew nearer.
'I can't even turn my head…'
Frustration gnawed at him, but it was quickly replaced by something darker—fear. He was vulnerable, unable to defend himself, and that thought alone sent a chill down his spine.
Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of movement caught his attention. A boy, no older than twelve or thirteen, just like him, sprinted past him, moving with a purpose.
Renjiro could only watch, powerless, as the boy, with wild red hair and ragged clothes, dashed toward the run-down shack in front of him. The boy's movements were swift and sure, his face determined.
Renjiro's brow furrowed in confusion. 'Who is that? It can't be Ohashi—Ohashi's hair was black, not red.'
He tried to piece together what was happening, but nothing made sense. Why was he here? Why couldn't he move? Who was this boy?
As Renjiro watched, the boy burst through the creaky door of the shack, vanishing into the darkness within. Renjiro's gaze followed, and soon after, he saw another figure emerge—an old man, bent with age, standing in the doorway.
His features were worn, his skin like weathered leather, but his eyes still gleamed with a sharpness that belied his years. The old man beckoned the boy closer, his voice a low rasp that carried across the silent air.
"Our clan... the Kurogane Clan... is mighty," the old man began, his voice full of pride. "No clan rivals us. We are bound by the Earth itself, connected to the natural energy that flows through this world."
The boy's eyes lit up, wide with admiration and curiosity. "Can you teach me, Grandpa?" the boy asked, his voice filled with awe. "Teach me our clan's technique!"
The old man smiled a crooked grin that showed more gum than teeth. "Of course, boy. Watch closely."
Renjiro watched too, his eyes widening slightly—the only movement his body would allow. The old man raised his hands, his weathered fingers moving slowly through a series of seigns.
The air around him seemed to shimmer, the very ground vibrating under the old man's feet. And then it happened—energy, raw and powerful, surged from the earth itself, swirling around the old man's body. It crackled with life, a vibrant green hue that radiated power.
'Natural energy...' Renjiro's thoughts whispered, realization dawning on him. His heart skipped a beat. The old man was harnessing natural energy. But this... this technique was different different than what he had seen Minato, the toad or the eagles do. The energy didn't just enhance the old man's strength; it seemed to flow through him like he was one with the earth itself.
As Renjiro strained to understand what he was witnessing, a bright flash of light assaulted his senses. He blinked—if that was even possible in this strange, paralyzed state—and when his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the same spot again. The same grey world. The same broken-down shack.
And then—footsteps.
Renjiro's breath caught in his throat. *"No..."* he thought, dread creeping in. "It's happening again." Sure enough, the boy appeared again, running past him, darting into the shack. The old man followed, emerging with the same slow, deliberate movements, his words eerily familiar.
"Our clan... the Kurogane Clan..."
Renjiro's mind raced. 'Am I in some kind of loop?'
He couldn't move, couldn't stop what was happening. It was like being trapped in a recurring nightmare, each cycle unfolding exactly as the last—except, as Renjiro watched more closely, he noticed something different.
This time, when the old man demonstrated his technique, the energy he drew from the earth was different. It was more focused, more intense. The green energy swirled into a tight sphere in the old man's hands before expanding outward in a controlled blast. It wasn't just raw power—it was refined, and calculated.
And then, just as before, the flash of light.
Renjiro blinked, and the scene reset. The boy. The old man. The shack.
But now, the pattern was clear. Each time, the old man demonstrated a different technique—each one using natural energy, each one more intricate than the last. Renjiro's eyes widened with every cycle, his mind spinning as he tried to absorb the information. The old man was showing him something—something important.
'But why?' Renjiro thought, frustration bubbling up.
'Why am I seeing this? Why can't I move? What is this place?'
On the fourth cycle, Renjiro stood, frozen in place, as usual, watching the scene unfold again. The boy ran into the shack. The old man emerged, his voice the same as ever. But this time... something was different.
The old man paused, just before he began his demonstration. His gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing. And then, to Renjiro's surprise, the old man's gaze locked directly onto him.
Renjiro thought 'No... that's impossible. He can't see me. I'm not... I'm not really here.'
The old man's face darkened, his expression turning grim. "You..." His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to shake the very air. "You are not supposed to be here."
Renjiro's body, still frozen, tensed in terror. The old man's eyes bore into him, and for the first time since he had arrived in this strange place, Renjiro felt truly afraid.
In a blinding flash of light, the world around him shattered.
Renjiro's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He was back in his basement, kneeling beside Ohashi's body. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his entire body trembling. He barely had time to register his surroundings when something else caught his attention—Ohashi's corpse.
Purple markings spread across the dead man's skin, pulsing with an unnatural energy. Before Renjiro could react, flames erupted from the body, consuming it in an instant.
Renjiro stumbled back, eyes wide with shock. "What the hell just happened?"
The room was silent once more, the only evidence of the bizarre experience being the charred remains of Ohashi's body, now little more than ashes scattered across the stone slab.
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