The town was peaceful. A rare thing in an era where war still loomed over the land like a shadow.
But peace was a fragile thing.
And all it took to shatter it was a single foolish act.
Taji had never eaten so much food in his life. He stuffed his mouth with grilled meat, barely stopping to breathe. Renzō ate in silence, watching the boy devour his meal with the desperate hunger of someone who had spent too many nights wondering when the next bite would come.
The sage took his time.
The shinobi were still watching. He could feel them, their presence coiled in the air like distant thunderclouds. They were disciplined, careful, choosing observation over engagement.
He respected that.
But not everyone in this town had the same restraint.
"Hey. Outsider."
The voice came from behind him.
Renzō finished his bite, chewing slowly. He didn't need to turn around to know what was coming.
The footsteps were heavy. Intentional. A man trying to sound more dangerous than he truly was.
A small group of thugs stood a few feet away, their leader—a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his chin—watching Renzō with a smug grin. His clothes were fine, not those of a common bandit, but of someone who thought himself important.
Taji shrank back slightly.
Renzō wiped his hands clean. Then, slowly, he turned.
The thug's grin faltered for half a second when those golden eyes landed on him. Just half a second. Then, he forced his smirk back into place.
"You must be new here," the man continued. "Or maybe you just don't know how things work."
Renzō said nothing.
The thug took a slow step forward, arms crossed. "See, this is our town. We keep things running smoothly. We make sure no one causes trouble." He glanced at Taji. "And we don't take kindly to vagrants feeding street rats like they belong here."
Taji clenched his fists, but Renzō placed a single hand on his shoulder. The boy stilled instantly.
Silence stretched.
Then, Renzō stood up.
The thug instinctively took half a step back. It was barely noticeable—but Renzō saw it.
Golden eyes met his. "Go away," Renzō said simply.
The surrounding crowd went silent. The thug's face twitched. He had expected fear, or anger, or an argument. But this?
Just disinterest.
The man growled, trying to save face. "You talk big for someone who—"
His hand moved.
A small flicker of aggression, barely an inch of movement, but—
Renzō tilted his head ever so slightly.
The thug froze.
The air around them changed.
It was not a flex of chakra. It was not killing intent. It was nothing.
And that nothing was absolute.
The thug felt like he had stepped off a ledge into endless space. Like the world had suddenly become vast, immeasurable, and uncaring. His body screamed at him to act, but his instincts told him that any movement would be the last thing he ever did.
The world seemed to stretch.
Then—
Renzō blinked.
And reality snapped back into place.
The thug stumbled backward, gasping slightly. His men shifted uneasily, no longer so eager to stand beside him.
Renzō sat back down.
"Go away," he repeated, returning to his meal.
The thug was still shaking. He didn't know why. He didn't understand what had just happened. But he knew he wanted to leave.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. His men followed.
The marketplace slowly returned to life, whispers rippling through the crowd.
From their hidden positions, the shinobi had seen everything.
Shion let out a slow breath. "What… was that?"
Ko swallowed hard. "I don't know."
Jiro narrowed his eyes. "He didn't use killing intent. He didn't even raise his chakra."
Daichi exhaled. "Then why did it feel like he was staring into nothingness?"
No one had an answer.
But they all agreed on one thing.
This man was not someone they could understand.
Not yet.
And that terrified them more than anything.