The morning air was crisp, the salty breeze rolling in from the sea as Ren sat on the cliffside overlooking the abandoned port. The ocean stretched endlessly before him, but his mind was still stuck on what had happened the night before.
I faced a real ninja.
It was different. Nothing like sparring with Hayate, nothing like throwing shuriken at trees or training until exhaustion.
That man—whoever he was—had moved differently. There was no hesitation, no wasted effort—only certainty.
Ren clenched his fists. I thought I was ready.
His plan had worked. He had lured the enemy into position, just as he intended. But the moment he was up close, he had been helpless. The rogue ninja saw through him immediately, closing the distance before he could react.
Training wasn't enough. He had the technique, but he lacked the instinct—that decisive edge real shinobi carried. The way that ninja had tested him, toyed with him… it showed just how wide the gap still was.
Hayate's words echoed in his mind.
"You'll get there."
Ren exhaled. He wasn't going to sulk. If he had lost, that just meant he needed to learn.
Next time, he wouldn't be too slow.
Next time, he would be ready.
By the time they arrived at the nearest town, the rogue ninja was already in chains. The authorities had been quick to take him into custody, and Ren now stood in a dimly lit office as a stern-looking officer flipped through a scroll.
"This man," the officer said, furrowing his brows, "is Shirō Ugetsu, a Chunin-level rogue shinobi from Kusagakure."
Ren's eyes narrowed. Kusagakure? That explained a lot. The Hidden Grass was a smaller village, but it had a history of instability and secrecy. It made sense that someone like Shirō had come from there.
Hayate crossed his arms. "Not our problem anymore. He's your prisoner now."
The officer nodded, placing a bag of ryo on the desk. "Your bounty."
Hayate grabbed it without hesitation. "Pleasure doing business."
As they walked along the quiet streets of the town, Ren glanced up at his grandfather. "So, what now?"
Hayate exhaled. "Before we continue, there's someone I need to check on. South of the Land of Fire."
Ren frowned. "An old friend?"
Hayate's expression didn't change. "Something like that."
Ren knew that tone. There was more to it, but Hayate wasn't going to tell him. Not yet, at least.
"And after that?"
Hayate gave him a small smirk. "Then it's time to get serious."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "More training?"
Hayate nodded. "We're heading somewhere isolated. It's time you start learning how to use a sword."
Ren's heart skipped a beat.
Finally.
"But not just kenjutsu," Hayate continued. "You'll be training with our clan's Taijutsu style as well."
Ren's mind raced. He had spent months building his foundation—his speed, precision, chakra control. But this… this was something else.
For the first time in weeks, he felt genuine excitement.
"Alright," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Let's go."
The sun had barely set when they arrived at the village in the south of the Land of Fire—and Ren was immediately caught off guard.
Bright lanterns hung across the streets, their warm glow illuminating a world of noise, laughter, and movement. The sound of coins clinking, the scent of grilled meat and sake, and the sight of wealthy merchants, shinobi, and gamblers alike flooding the streets made it feel alive.
It was nothing like the quiet, remote places he had grown used to.
Ren glanced at his grandfather. "This place is… different."
Hayate smirked. "Don't get used to it. We're only staying one night."
He booked them a small hotel, not saying much about why they were there. Ren wanted to ask, but he could tell Hayate wasn't in the mood for questions.
So, he let it go.
Hayate sighed as he pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the largest casino in the village. The atmosphere inside was exactly as he expected—loud, chaotic, and reeked of desperation.
His gaze swept across the room until it landed on her.
Tsunade.
There she was, sitting at one of the high-stakes gambling tables, a bottle of sake next to her, expression calm but eyes heavy with something deeper. She looked the same—still beautiful, still reckless.
Still running from something.
Hayate exhaled, rubbing his temple. Hiruzen's troublesome student.
He leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as she casually placed a bet—and immediately lost.
A pain in the ass, as always.
But she was alive.
And, as well as could be expected.
That was enough.
He pulled a small scroll from his pouch, quickly writing a short report to Hiruzen before summoning a raven to deliver it.
She's here. Drunk as usual. Losing money as usual. But breathing. As well as can be expected.
After sealing the scroll and watching the hawk disappear into the night, Hayate turned back toward the exit.
There was nothing left to do here.
Tomorrow, he and Ren would move on.
There was training to be done.