It had been three years since that moonlit night. Three years since the world had given a child the power to shake the heavens themselves.
Over those three years, Renji Hyūga had grown.
He now stood just shy of three feet tall, small even for his age, with long silver hair that fell in silken strands around his shoulders.
Their home sat on the far edge of the Hyūga compound, behind three layers of walled gardens and under constant watch by masked ANBU. His world was a set of connected chambers, a narrow garden path, and the soft light of the shōji windows.
And yet, even with walls pressing in from every side, Renji remained gentle.
He often helped his mother fold laundry, though his attention would drift before long. Most days, he sang gently to the koi fish in the garden pond, pretending they could understand him. He bowed politely to the servants who brought their meals, even when they offered no reply.
Over the years, Renji had grown restless, yearning to glimpse the world beyond his walls and to learn what it was truly like.
He didn't know the weight of the Tenseigan. He didn't understand the fear he inspired or the destiny others saw when they looked at him; he merely wished to better understand the world.
"Mother," he said, his voice small, "what's the outside like?"
"You said the world is big, right?" Renji tilted his head, eyes bright with wonder. "With forests and rivers and clouds you can sleep in if you climb high enough." He smiled faintly.
Hota turned to him. Her beauty lingered beneath the weariness, lined with the quiet sorrow of a woman who had given more than the world would ever know.
"I did say that," she said softly.
"I wish to see the clouds!" Renji said, eyes bright, his tone carrying a deep eagerness.
He reached out, small fingers brushing her sleeve. "Do you think we could go tomorrow?"
She shook her head gently. "No, Renji. Not yet."
"Why not?" His smile dimmed, but his tone remained soft, not angry, only confused. "I've been good."
"Renji, you've been more than just good; you've been perfect," she said, brushing his hair back with trembling fingers. "You must understand, you're special, which means you won't always get to live like everyone else. The world will ask more of you, even if it's not fair."
Renji didn't fully understand what his mother meant. Her words felt heavy, like puzzle pieces he hadn't learned to fit together yet. Still, he nodded.
As dawn broke, the gates of the Hyūga compound creaked open as the sun crept gently over the horizon, golden light slicing through the mist that clung to the gardens. Two men stepped inside, their presence rippling through the silence like a dropped stone in still water.
Hiashi Hyūga walked ahead with a measured grace, every step as precise as his thoughts. But behind him moved a shadow far older whose wisdom had weathered wars and peace alike. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor of Konoha.
Hiashi said nothing as he walked, hands folded calmly into his sleeves. His gaze was fixed ahead, unwavering and cold as carved marble. Yet Hiruzen, ever perceptive, sensed the burden pressing on the younger man's shoulders, an invisible weight carried in silence.
"You've been quiet, Hiashi," Hiruzen said as they approached the garden threshold. "Do you doubt this decision?"
"I doubt many things," Hiashi replied calmly. "But not this. You should see him for yourself."
The moment they stepped past the final screen door, Hiruzen felt it.
The garden beyond unfolded in quiet elegance; chakra pulsed through the ground and leaves, stitched into every breeze. The scent of pine and water hung heavier, clearer, as if the world itself breathed deeper here. Even time seemed to hesitate. Around him, the boy's chakra buzzed with harmony rather than unfettered energy. A constant, measured rhythm like breathing. It reminded him of Sage Mode, but it was deeper and more complete. The chakra didn't come from Renji alone. The world seemed to synchronize with him. As if the land itself had accepted him.
Just like it had with Hashirama...
The thought alone sent Hiruzen into deep thought.
Only then did Renji open his eyes.
Blue light bloomed.
They burned with patterns, celestial rings of power, each one rotating gently within the other like moons around a distant star. Hiruzen froze. He felt the weight of those eyes fall on him.
Lines of chakra unraveled before him. Hiruzen could feel it, his own chakra system revealed in threads and coils, every old scar, every wound, every memory etched in the body. Renji's head tilted slightly, not with suspicion, but quiet wonder.
"You're the one who watches over the village," Renji said at last. His voice was soft and childlike but clear. "Your chakra feels... sad."
Hiruzen blinked, taken aback. "Is it?"
Renji nodded. "Like a sunset. Beautiful, but heavy."
Hiruzen stepped forward slowly. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Renji. I came today to see how you're doing and how you've grown."
Renji replied, "I've read about you. In books. The servants bring them sometimes."
Renji turned his gaze back to the pond. "Are you here to take me away?"
Hiruzen knelt slowly beside him, studying the way Renji watched the koi. "That depends. Do you want to leave?"
Renji hesitated, eyes gazing upon the koi fish swimming into view. "I think… I want to see what the world is truly like. I want to understand the people, how they live, how they think, and what they feel when no one's watching."
Hiruzen's chest ached at the honesty in the boy's voice. "There's danger in the world outside this garden."
"I know." Renji fed a pellet to the koi. "But there's danger in staying still too long, too."
Hiruzen stood again. "The world doesn't know you exist, Renji. That has kept you safe. But soon, they will know. And not all will welcome you with kindness."
Renji's smile was gentle, almost wistful. "Let them see me as I am, and may the truth be louder than their fear." Renji spoke his words carrying deep conviction.
And for the first time in years, the Third Hokage laughed, quietly and shortly, but sincerely.
He hadn't expected Renji to carry such wisdom on shoulders still so young.