Chapter 30 : Ashes and Embers
The smoke had cleared.
The screams had faded.
And silence settled like snow.
Ren lay on the cold earth, barely conscious. His legs burned—no, they were far past burning. It felt like every nerve had been set on fire and then drowned in ice. But none of that pain compared to the weight in his chest.
Taro was dead.
Aki was dead.
He had held them. Watched them go cold in his arms.
And now, all that was left was Kota—curled up beside him, clutching Ren's sleeve with trembling fingers. He hadn't spoken since the battle ended.
Ren didn't know what to say.
Juro moved across the clearing like a man walking through the remains of a battlefield—and that's exactly what it was. His Sharingan still glowed faintly, but even it looked tired. The summoned wolf padded beside him silently, flanks rising and falling with shallow breaths.
They passed the Cloud jonin's body. It hadn't moved. The fire-charged kunai still jutted from his chest.
Tetsu was just waking up nearby, groaning and propping himself against a tree, his uniform torn and stained with blood.
Juro finally knelt beside Ren.
"You alive?" he asked.
Ren nodded slowly. "Yeah."
"You shouldn't be."
"I know."
Juro looked at his legs. "Both broken."
"Worth it," Ren whispered.
Juro grunted. "Reckless."
Ren didn't argue. He just stared up at the sky, blinking through tears that hadn't stopped since Aki's last breath.
"You did what you had to," Juro said quietly. "Doesn't make it easier."
Ren swallowed. "I couldn't save any of my friends…"
"You saved Kota."
Ren looked at the boy, who clung tighter to his sleeve.
"I didn't want to lose more people," Ren whispered.
Juro was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "You'll lose more."
The words cut deeper than any kunai.
"But," Juro continued, "if you learn from this… you might save more next time."
Ren didn't answer.
He didn't have it in him.
The summoned wolf nuzzled him gently, warm and steady.
Ren closed his eyes, let the exhaustion take him for just a moment.
- - -
The clearing that had once echoed with the clash of jutsu and screams of dying shinobi was now quiet—too quiet.
They buried Aki and Taro that afternoon.
There were no coffins, no ceremonies. Just shallow graves dug into the cold forest floor. Tetsu helped dig, grimacing with every motion. Juro worked silently beside him, his movements mechanical but precise. Ren wanted to help too—but his legs were useless. He sat nearby, hands clenched into fists, as each scoop of earth carved a farewell into his soul.
Kota stood beside Ren, eyes wide and hollow. He hadn't spoken since the battle.
When it was done, Juro placed Aki's broken headband atop the mound of earth. Tetsu placed Taro's kunai—the only one left unshattered.
Ren stared at those graves until his vision blurred.
He heard Juro speak, voice soft but firm. "They were brave. They fought like shinobi… but they died as friends."
Ren couldn't hold it in anymore. The tears came hard. Silent, wracking sobs. He turned his face away, ashamed.
But the wolf summon nuzzled him again, gently. No words. Just warmth.
Later, after night fell and a fire crackled in the center of their temporary camp, Juro finally sat with Ren. The rest of the civilians were asleep, huddled together for warmth. Kota had finally passed out beside the wolf, head resting on its thick fur.
Juro looked up at the stars. "You want to know why I didn't use my Sharingan to find Kota?"
Ren blinked, surprised. "What?"
"You kids… you needed that search. You needed to push yourselves. Feel the frustration. The wonder. That's why I used a summoning instead. Something to spark your curiosity."
Ren said nothing.
"You're not soldiers. Not yet. You're kids. And kids… need reasons to grow."
He looked over at Ren, eyes sharp even in the dim light.
"And what you did today—charging chakra through your legs like that—that wasn't nothing. You moved like a real shinobi."
"I broke both legs," Ren muttered.
"You saved a life."
They were quiet for a while.
Then Ren spoke, slowly. "Something changed during the fight. I… I was trying to force chakra into my strikes. Into my steps. Like I always did. But it wouldn't work. It kept slipping."
Juro tilted his head.
"And then, in the middle of it all, I realized—I couldn't force it. I had to let it flow. Just… guide it."
Juro smiled faintly. "That's called enlightenment. You'll have more of those if you live long enough."
Ren looked down at his hands. "It felt like the chakra wanted to help me. Like it moved the moment I let go."
Juro nodded. "That's real control. That's something most genin don't figure out until they've nearly died a few times."
Ren's eyes flicked to the graves.
"I guess that's what it takes."
Juro stood. "Sleep if you can. We move tomorrow."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"Somewhere safer. This place is compromised."
"And… the war?"
Juro looked at the horizon. "It's not waiting for us."
He turned and walked into the shadows, leaving Ren with the dying fire and the sound of his own heartbeat—soft, but still there.
Still alive.
Still carrying the weight.