The shinobi moved like whispers through the marketplace, unseen yet ever-present. They were ghosts to the common folk, figures that blended into the background of daily life. But their eyes never wavered. Their hands never strayed far from their weapons.
And all of them were focused on him.
Renzō.
They had felt his presence the moment he entered the town. Not because he made himself known—no, quite the opposite. He walked like an ordinary man, no headband, no insignia, no clan emblem to mark his allegiance.
But his chakra—it was vast, limitless, uncontained.
It did not burn like fire or cut like wind. It did not coil with killing intent or press down with force.
It simply existed.
And that was what terrified them most.
No shinobi should carry such an overwhelming presence and yet remain so still. It was unnatural. It was wrong.
They had seen powerful men before. Warlords who commanded armies. Missing-nin who tore through villages. Even monsters who wielded chakra like an unstoppable storm.
But this man?
He did nothing.
And that was why they feared him.
Hidden behind a vendor's stall, a young kunoichi adjusted her stance. Her name was Shion, and she was one of five assigned to monitor this "wanderer."
"Leader, what do you think?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.
From the rooftop above, a voice answered in her ear—Jiro, the squad captain.
"He's dangerous," Jiro said simply.
Shion frowned. "But he hasn't done anything."
"That's the problem," Jiro muttered. "Men like him don't need to."
From another hidden vantage point, a third voice joined the conversation—Daichi, the tracker.
"I don't like this," he admitted. "His chakra flow… it doesn't fluctuate. It doesn't weaken. It just—is."
The fourth shinobi, Ko, let out a slow breath. "It's not natural. No shinobi has that kind of control. Even the strongest among us have limits."
Silence fell between them.
Shion risked another glance at the man in question.
He was buying food.
A child—probably an orphan, judging by his clothes—was talking to him excitedly, pointing at different skewers of grilled meat. The sage listened, paid the vendor, and handed the boy a steaming portion before taking one for himself.
He ate with the slow patience of a man who had seen enough of the world to appreciate even the smallest moments.
He did not glance toward them. He did not acknowledge their presence.
And yet, the shinobi knew he was fully aware of them.
Jiro made his decision. "We're not confronting him."
Shion blinked. "What?"
"He hasn't acted against us," Jiro said. "We don't know his motives, his history, or his abilities. Until we do, we watch. We don't provoke."
Ko exhaled. "You think he'd win?"
Jiro was quiet for a long moment. Then, he said, "I think if he wanted us dead, we already would be."
No one argued.
From their hidden positions, the shinobi continued to watch.
And Renzō?
He simply existed.
As if waiting for the world to catch up.