"Poof!"
The sound was sharp as Renjiro materialized in a swirling vortex of white smoke. He stood on a familiar, moss-carpeted island, one of countless suspended in an eternal sky-sea. Below, an ocean of clouds stretched to the horizon, painted in the fiery hues of a setting sun – molten gold, deep rose, and bruised violet.
The air was crisp, thin, and incredibly pure. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a scene ripped from a celestial painting.
But the beauty was lost on Renjiro. The silence here wasn't peaceful; it was deafening. His mind wasn't on the sunset or the clouds; it was filled with the image of Tenjin's shattered wing, the agonized groan, the pool of dark blood soaking into alien rock. Guilt, cold and heavy, sat like a stone in his gut, mingling with the bone-deep exhaustion that threatened to buckle his knees.
'He'll be at the mountain…'
Usually, Tenjin himself would glide down to meet him, saving Renjiro the arduous task of traversing the vast distances between islands. Now, he was alone. The sheer scale of the journey – hundreds of miles of empty sky between islands – felt daunting, another burden added to his already crushing load.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take slow, deliberate breaths. The air here wasn't just clean; it was alive with chakra, thick as syrup. He could feel it pressing against his skin, a tangible force.
He needed it. Desperately.
His reserves were scraped raw – the barrier, the chains, the Amaterasu, the desperate crash-landing, the emotional toll. He focused, drawing the ambient chakra into himself like a parched root seeking water.
"HUMMM!"
A low vibration resonated within his core as the energy flowed in, cool and potent, refilling depleted reserves.
'More… need more,' he thought grimly.
'The chains to traverse… and I'll have to protect myself from the Natural.' The thought of surviving Natural Energy in his current state was daunting, but for Tenjin, he'd risk it.
He stood there for precious minutes, a solitary figure amidst the drifting islands and the dying light, gathering strength. He felt hollowed out, scraped clean by adrenaline and loss. Finally, when the chakra hummed more steadily within him, he steeled himself.
"SCHLINK-CLANG!"
Adamantine chains erupted from his torso gleaming in the sunset. He willed them thicker, longer, anchoring their ends deep into the mossy rock beneath his boots. He took a deep breath, preparing to launch himself towards the distant silhouette of the next island, a daunting speck against the fiery sky. He coiled his legs, the chains tensing like drawn bowstrings…
"You came."
The voice was low, almost melodic, carrying an undercurrent of something ancient and feminine. It wasn't loud, yet it cut through the vast silence with startling clarity, freezing Renjiro mid-motion. Recognition was instantaneous, bypassing thought.
He didn't need to turn.
"I had to," Renjiro replied, his voice rough with fatigue and unspoken emotion. The chains retracted instantly, dissolving back into his body, and leaving him standing vulnerable on the mossy ledge.
A profound silence followed, deeper than before. Renjiro finally turned, slowly.
Behind him, perched on a smooth, sun-warmed boulder, was an eagle. But unlike the majestic storm-grey giants, this one was small. Barely larger than a common hawk.
Renjiro met those ancient golden eyes, the question burning in his throat. "How is he?" he asked the words barely a whisper.
Momo didn't look at him immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the setting sun, painting her small form in fiery light.
"He'll live," she stated, her voice devoid of inflexion. A pause stretched, heavy with implication. "...though he won't be able to fly for a while."
The final words were delivered softly, yet they landed like physical blows.
Renjiro flinched. The confirmation, delivered with such devastating simplicity, hurt more than he'd anticipated.
His mouth opened, words forming and dissolving before they could be spoken – apologies, explanations, pleas. Nothing felt adequate.
"I'm sorry," he finally choked out.
Momo didn't acknowledge the apology. She didn't turn her head. Instead, her gaze remained on the horizon.
"How fares the war?" she inquired, her tone detached, as if asking about the weather.
Renjiro's face darkened, the guilt momentarily eclipsed by a familiar, grim reality. "None of the Kage have not made decisive moves yet," he answered flatly.
"So... moderately peaceful, I suppose. For now."
The bitter irony hung in the air.
A low, melodic sound escaped Momo – not quite a chuckle, more a vibration of weary disbelief.
"Senseless," she murmured, the word imbued with the weight of centuries of watching human conflict ebb and flow.
"The entire construct. Greed and fear disguised as necessity."
Renjiro opened his mouth again, another apology forming. "Lady Momo, I–"
She cut him off, finally turning her head. Her golden eyes locked onto his with an intensity that belied her size. "Tenjin spoke of you," she said, her voice still soft but gaining an edge. "Of the power you wield now."
She tilted her head slightly, a gesture both inquisitive and unnerving. "He spoke with... pride. And worry."
Renjiro felt a flicker of warmth at the mention of Tenjin's pride, instantly drowned by the worry.
"Can I see him?" he asked, the desperation clear.
Momo didn't answer immediately. Instead, she hopped lightly down from the boulder, landing silently on the moss. She took a few deliberate steps closer, her small talons making no sound.
"Do you remember," she began, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, yet carrying perfectly in the thin air, "what I told you all those years ago? When you first stood before me asking to be taught Senjutsu?"
Renjiro blinked, thrown off guard. The sudden shift in topic, the dredging up of history, confused him.
'Senjutsu? Why is she bringing that up now? She knows I can't use it…'* He searched his memory, the image of his younger self vivid – determined, facing the ancient, diminutive matriarch.
"You said…" he began slowly, the words returning with clarity, "...you said that until I possessed enough chakra to summon five of your clan simultaneously – including Tenjin and Uno – you would not even consider teaching me the ways of Senjutsu."
"Good," Momo said, the single word carrying a world of meaning. She took another step closer, now only an arm's length away. Her golden eyes held his, unblinking.
"And did I break that word?"
Renjiro froze. The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.
The silence stretched. The wind sighed through the floating peaks. Renjiro met her unwavering gaze. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low but clear. "You did."
The moment the word left his lips, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't a physical tremor, but a sudden, profound change in pressure. The gentle sigh of the wind seemed to pause. The vibrant colours of the sunset dimmed fractionally as if a filter had been drawn over the sky. The very air felt heavier, charged with ancient power and unspoken consequence. The picturesque serenity of the floating islands vanished, replaced by a sense of standing on a precipice before an awakened, primordial force.
"WHOOSH."
With a single, powerful beat of her wings, Momo launched herself from the moss. She didn't soar; she arrowed straight towards Renjiro, a small, focused bolt of grey.
She landed lightly on his shoulder, her talons gripping the fabric of his flak jacket with surprising firmness. Her warmth was a shock against his skin, her presence suddenly intimate and overwhelming.
She leaned close, her beak near his ear. Her voice, when it came, was a low, resonant whisper that vibrated through his very bones, devoid of anger, yet colder than the highest mountain peak. It held the weight of glaciers and the finality of stone.
"I broke my word for you once, Renjiro," she breathed, the words carrying the scent of ozone and high places.
"Driven by Tenjin's faith, by the spark I saw within you. I agreed where I swore I would not."
She paused the silence that followed heavier than any chain. "I assure you," her whisper became even softer, yet infinitely more terrifying, "it will never happen again."
Renjiro stood utterly still, barely daring to breathe.
"My duty," she continued, the whisper like the grinding of tectonic plates, "is to my mate. To my clan. To the skies, we call home. We are not weapons for your human wars. We are not pawns on your blood-soaked board."
Her grip on his shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly.
"If you ever choose to involve one of mine in your senseless conflicts again…" The pause stretched, filled with the silent scream of unspoken consequences. "...you had better ensure, with every fibre of your being, every ounce of that vaunted power, that nothing happens to them."
The final words weren't a shout; they were a vow etched in ice, delivered directly into his soul.
"Because if harm befalls them due to your call…" She didn't finish the explicit threat. She didn't need to. The promise of annihilation, of wrath as ancient and unforgiving as the mountains themselves, hung unspoken in the charged air between them.
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