Chapter 4: The Calloused Hand
"Stop it!"
Kushina's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The clan elders were right. The children of the great Konoha could be cruel. In that moment, the cold-faced boy from her class seemed almost kind in comparison.
The girl, Hanata, wore a look of twisted delight, her eyes fixed on the vibrant red hair with a desire to ruin something beautiful. As the cold metal of the scissors began to close around a thick lock, a hand shot out and clamped around her wrist, stopping the blades an inch from their target.
The hand was not much larger than hers, but it was a world apart. It was covered in rough calluses, a map of relentless labor. Pale, thin scars crisscrossed the knuckles and palm. The grip was like iron.
Hanata's initial shock curdled into anger. She looked up, met Ragnar's cold, assessing eyes, and felt a sudden, primal chill. "Who are you?" she spat, trying and failing to yank her arm free.
"What you're doing is wrong," Ragnar stated, his voice devoid of heat, a simple declaration of fact.
"Who do you think you are?" the two boys, emboldened by numbers and the chance to play hero in front of Hanata, stepped forward aggressively, puffing out their chests.
"It's him?" Kushina whispered, her disbelief giving way to a confused surge of hope. This aloof, silent boy was intervening?
Hanata, recovering her bravado now that her friends had stepped up, finally managed to wrench her wrist from Ragnar's grasp. She rubbed it, glaring. "This is none of your business! If you don't get lost, we'll beat you up too!"
The two boys, taking this as their cue, lunged forward with clumsy, wild swings.
Ragnar didn't even change his expression. He took a single, smooth step back, letting the first punch whistle past his face. As the boy overextended, Ragnar pivoted on his heel and delivered a sharp, controlled side kick to the boy's stomach. The air left the attacker's lungs with a loud whoosh as he folded and crumpled to the ground. The second boy froze in momentary shock, and Ragnar used that hesitation to snap a front kick into his midsection, sending him stumbling back to join his friend in the dirt.
*Ding. Experience +10.*
*Ding. Experience +10.*
The system's chime echoed in Ragnar's mind. His internal focus sharpened. Physical conflict. Overcoming opposition. That grants experience.
The two boys groaned, clutching their stomachs, their bravado utterly deflated.
Ragnar looked down at them, a strange, analytical thought forming. He lifted his foot and lightly stomped on the first boy's shoulder, not hard enough to injure, but with firm pressure.
*Ding. Experience +5.*
He did the same to the second.
*Ding. Experience +5.*
"It really works," Ragnar murmured, almost to himself. His eyes, previously cold, now held a glint of pragmatic interest. These bullies weren't just a nuisance; they were a potential resource. He proceeded to deliver several more measured, non-crippling stomps to their legs and backsides.
*Ding. Experience +3.*
*Ding. Experience +2.*
For a brief, surreal moment, the alleyway became an impromptu grinding spot. Grunts of pain and the soft thud of feet on cloth-covered limbs were the only sounds. Fortunately, the secluded corner remained empty of witnesses.
There was, however, a limit. After contributing a total of roughly fifty experience points between them, the system fell silent. No matter how Ragnar prodded them, no more notifications came. The well was dry.
"Amazing!" Kushina breathed, her earlier fear replaced by wide-eyed awe. His method was… brutal in its efficiency, and a little scary, but seeing her tormentors reduced to writhing on the ground was undeniably satisfying.
On the ground, the two boys were a patchwork of minor bruises and wounded pride. They had surrendered mentally minutes ago. Why is he still hitting us?
"Are… are you a ninja?" Hanata squeaked, her voice trembling. Her shield of arrogance was cracking, revealing the frightened child beneath. "Let me tell you, my cousin is Uchiha Tsuki! If you bully me, he'll make you pay!" The name was flung out like a final, desperate weapon.
"Leave," Ragnar said, the single word leaving no room for negotiation.
"You—!" Humiliation burned hotter than fear on Hanata's face. Being dismissed was worse than being struck. She shot Ragnar a look of pure, venomous hatred, memorizing his features, before turning and fleeing down the alley without a backward glance at her fallen lackeys. The two boys scrambled to their feet and stumbled after her, casting terrified glances over their shoulders.
Puff.
A small cloud of white smoke erupted from the spot where Hanata had been standing. As it cleared, a modest, unadorned bronze treasure chest materialized on the cobblestones. It pulsed with a faint, ethereal light invisible to anyone but Ragnar.
Treasure Chest detected. Accept? the system inquired.
"Accept," Ragnar thought. The chest vanished in another wisp of smoke, stored within the system's intangible inventory. He wouldn't open it here, not with Kushina watching.
"Thank you," Kushina said, the words heartfelt. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest, her earlier timidity mingling with sincere gratitude.
"Hn," Ragnar acknowledged with a curt nod. He gave her one last, fleeting glance, then turned to walk away, the matter seemingly concluded.
Kushina blinked, taken aback by his abruptness. But the memory of the circling bullies, the glint of the scissors, made the shadows between the buildings seem suddenly deeper and more threatening. She bit her lip, then called out, mustering her courage. "W-wait! Classmate… could I… walk with you? Just until I get to a busier street?"
Ragnar paused mid-stride. He didn't turn fully, but his head tilted slightly back toward her. "You're scared," he stated, not asking.
"Yes," Kushina admitted, the word heavy with shame and truth. She nodded vigorously.
"Where do you live?"
"In the eastern district, the old compound near the Senju lands," she replied, hope flickering in her violet eyes.
"I'll take you there," Ragnar said, his tone still flat, devoid of gallantry. It was a statement of a new, temporary objective.
"Thank you!" The relief in her voice was palpable, and a small, genuine smile broke through her nervousness.
"Walk," he instructed, and set off at a pace she could match. Kushina hurried to fall in step beside him, leaving the tense alley behind.
Two small, contrasting shadows stretched long ahead of them on the sun-warmed street—one walking with a detached, purposeful stride, the other following a half-step behind, her vibrant hair a banner in the fading light. For a half-hour, they moved in near silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the distant life of the village.
They finally arrived at a secluded, well-kept compound. The architecture was older, dignified, bearing the subtle, enduring crest of the Senju clan on a gatepost. Ragnar wasn't surprised. The First Hokage's wife, Mito Uzumaki, was still alive. It made sense that a young, important clan member like Kushina would be placed under her care and protection here.
"We're here. Thanks again," Kushina said, turning to face him fully.
"Right." Ragnar gave the compound a final, sweeping glance, then turned to leave without further ceremony.
"Oh! Wait!" Kushina's voice stopped him once more. A blush crept up her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I never even asked your name."
He stopped but didn't turn. After a beat, his voice carried back to her, clear in the quiet evening. "Ragnar. Just Ragnar."
"Ragnar…" she repeated, committing it to memory. A bright, unburdened smile lit up her face. "I'll remember! Thank you, Ragnar!" With a final, cheerful little wave, she skipped through the gate into the compound's courtyard.
Only after she had disappeared from view did Ragnar finally move. But he didn't head home. The sky was a deep indigo, the first stars appearing. He had time. He began to run again, not sprinting, but with a steady, distance-eating jog, using the last of the dusk to push his physical endurance further.
As he ran, his mind worked. The fight had been illuminating. Not just for the experience points, but for the confirmation of a suspicion he'd felt while walking with Kushina.
His senses, heightened by the nascent Observation Haki humming within him, had detected a presence. A shadow, clinging to the edges of his perception, tailing them at a discreet distance the entire way. There had been no malice in that presence. Only a watchful, professional intensity.
Anbu.
It made perfect sense. They weren't following him. They were guarding Kushina, the likely future vessel of the Nine-Tails. His intervention had been unnecessary from a security standpoint. If he hadn't stepped in, the black-clad operatives would have emerged from the shadows to deal with the bullies before the scissors ever touched a hair. His actions had probably just been a curious footnote in their daily report: *Subject R-14 (Refugee Academy Student) demonstrated basic taijutsu proficiency and escorted the asset home without incident.*
He pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter. He had gained experience, a treasure chest, and a clearer understanding of how his new senses worked. The encounter, while disruptive, had been net positive.
As he ran, the cool night air filling his lungs, he pulled up his system panel.
Experience: 75/100.
He was close. Very close. The quiet streets of Konoha blurred past him, not as a home, but as a training ground. A battlefield in waiting. And he, Ragnar, was finally loading his weapons.
(End of Chapter)
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