Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

The arrival of reinforcements shifted the dynamic of the battle. Sone let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Though he had been projecting a confident demeanor, his reserves were dangerously low. Every strike he had delivered, every counter, had drained his chakra at a rate he couldn't sustain. Yet his opponent still moved with relentless energy, especially with the recent jutsu that seemed to boost his speed, power and chakra.

Sone's smirk was a mask of false bravado. He had hoped to disillusion the masked figure he was fighting into thinking he was in control. But the truth was undeniable: if these reinforcements had not arrived, he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer.

"At least this can finally come to an end," Sone muttered under his breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

Across from him, Renjiro's eyes narrowed, his Sharingan glowing with an eerie intensity. He felt the surge of chakra as the S-rank shinobi prepared a jutsu.

'This is dangerous. Those three Jōnin I can handle. But another S-rank?' 'That's going to complicate things,' Renjiro thought grimly.

The air grew dense with tension as Kuroji stepped forward, his movements deliberate, his gaze fixed on Renjiro with predatory intensity. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his hands crackling with electricity as lightning chakra coursed through him. The oppressive energy in the air became almost suffocating, a prelude to the power he was about to unleash.

"This ends now," Kuroji said, his voice low and deadly. With a sharp clap of his hands, arcs of lightning leapt outward, weaving into a shimmering web of energy. The air buzzed with an audible hum as the strands expanded outward, forming a glowing lattice that crackled with destructive power.

"Cage of Avarice," he intoned. The web shot forward, closing in on Renjiro from all directions like a predator's snare.

Renjiro's reaction was instantaneous. A flicker of chakra and he vanished, reappearing just outside the arc's reach. But his reprieve was short-lived. The three Jōnin, who had spread out to flank him, lunged simultaneously, their weapons gleaming.

Renjiro smirked, his Gates providing him with speed that rendered their movements almost sluggish. He dodged their strikes with fluid ease, the Sharingan mapping their trajectories.

As one Jōnin swung a blade towards his neck, Renjiro twisted his body, grabbed the man's wrist, and drove an elbow into his chest with enough force to send him flying into a nearby wall. Another tried to capitalize on the distraction, but Renjiro countered with a spinning kick, the sheer force sending the second Jōnin sprawling.

The third barely had time to react as Renjiro flickered behind him, slamming a palm strike into his back. The Jōnin crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

Amid the chaos, another Renjiro, maybe a shadow clone or the real one Kuroji and Sone did not have enough time to figure out, appeared behind Kuroji. Before he could react, Renjiro delivered a powerful kick, launching him skyward. The man's body flailed as he ascended, disoriented.

Renjiro flickered into the air beside him, locking his arms around the man's torso in a crushing grip.

"Hidden Lotus," Renjiro whispered, his voice cold.

They plummeted like a comet, the air screaming around them. But just as they neared the ground, Sone intercepted with startling speed, his sandals connecting with Renjiro's midsection. The force of the blow sent Renjiro hurtling sideways, while Sone caught his comrade, landing gracefully a few meters away.

Renjiro skidded across the ground, his feet digging into the stone to halt his momentum. He straightened, wincing slightly but unfazed. Across the battlefield, his crimson Sharingan locked with Sone's sharp gaze. For a brief moment, neither moved.

"You're persistent," Sone admitted, his voice low and dangerous.

Renjiro smirked, his expression infuriatingly calm. "You're slow," he replied before disappearing in a flicker of motion.

Sone's instincts screamed. He shifted his torso just in time, narrowly avoiding a kunai that zipped past his side. The weapon embedded itself in the wall behind him with a sharp thunk.

Spinning around, Sone's eyes widened in shock. The three Jōnin Kuroji came with, his reinforcements, had turned on him. Two charged at him with murderous intent, while the third lunged at his partner.

"Genjutsu," Sone growled, his teeth grinding in frustration.

He parried the first strike with his blade, the clash ringing out like a bell, then ducked under the second attacker's swing. His movements were precise but noticeably slower.

'I'm getting tired,' he realized grimly as one of the Jōnin managed to graze his arm before Sone knocked him unconscious with a brutal counterstrike.

A glance to his side confirmed that Kuroji was also under siege, struggling against the lone Jōnin. With a decisive blow, the S-rank knocked out his opponent, leaving the room eerily quiet once more. Sone and his partner exchanged a grim look before both vanished, flickering in pursuit of Renjiro.

'Who is under that mask?' Sone wondered as he raced down the corridors. His mind whirled with thoughts of the young shinobi who was giving him this much trouble.

'If Konoha has someone this skilled at such a young age...'

The thought chilled him. He knew, with dreadful certainty, that if he met Renjiro again on the battlefield, it would be his end.

Meanwhile, Renjiro moved with purpose through the labyrinthine facility. His Sharingan scanned his surroundings, aided by the memories of his clones and guards he killed.

The chaos he sensed was palpable; chakra signatures clashed violently in the distance.

'So, I'm not the only one causing trouble here', he mused, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Ahead, a large window loomed at the corridor's end. Renjiro didn't hesitate. He sprinted toward it, chakra pooling in his feet as he launched himself through the glass.

"Crash!"

The shards scattered like rain as he plunged into the open air, free-falling from the facility's uppermost floor.

The wind roared past him, cool and invigorating against his skin. For a brief moment, Renjiro closed his eyes, savouring the fleeting serenity. Then his eyes snapped open, Sharingan flaring as bolts of lightning screamed toward him.

He twisted mid-air, dodging the strikes with hairbreadth precision, before landing against the facility's outer wall. His feet clung to the vertical surface as though gravity held no sway, chakra anchoring him in place.

Below him, on the ground, Sone and Kuroji emerged, their hands crackling with lightning chakra. Renjiro flickered, vanishing from their sight.

Sone's brows furrowed in confusion as he scanned the area. "Is he stupid?" Sone muttered as Renjiro appeared, rushing directly toward him.

Sone prepared to counter, leaning backwards to avoid Renjiro's strike. But a chill ran down his spine as his instincts flared—not from the front, but from behind.

Too late, Sone realized the trap. Pain exploded through his back as a blade pierced him, its tip emerging through his chest.

His gaze faltered, dropping to the metallic edge of the sword before rising to the masked figure before him. Renjiro's voice was calm, almost mocking. "Thank you," he said.

Sone's head tilted slightly, his vision blurring as he saw his partner— Kuroji, controlled by Renjiro's genjutsu—pulling the blade from his back.

A strangled gasp escaped Sone's lips before Renjiro struck again, spitting a wind bullet at point-blank range. The sheer force obliterated his partner, leaving nothing but silence.

Renjiro stood amidst the carnage, blood staining the floor beneath him. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he sensed a powerful presence approaching. "Finally... the outside," he muttered, his voice laced with relief.

Before the body of his latest victim could hit the ground, suddenly silvery adamantine chains erupted from Renjiro, forming a shimmering barrier. Blue flames roared against the barrier, licking at its edges with feral intensity.

Through the flames, a figure emerged—a young girl, her presence exuding an aura of raw, overwhelming chakra.

Renjiro's breath hitched, his Sharingan spinning wildly. His mind reeled as he tried to process what he was sensing. "This chakra..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

It wasn't fear that froze him. It was realization.

"Matatabi," he murmured, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

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