Chapter 9: The Ashes of Victory
Sporadic tongues of flame still licked at the air around him, and faint, angry red marks—the precursors of burns—bloomed across the skin of his forearms where the Armament Haki had been thinnest. Ragnar stood immobile in the settling dust and smoke, a statue carved from will and aftermath. The visual of him punching through a C-rank Fireball Jutsu was seared into the minds of every witness, an image of impossible defiance.
The field was silent, but Ragnar's mind was not. A cascade of system notifications chimed, a rapid, satisfying rhythm against the ringing in his ears.
*Ding. Experience +10.*
*Ding. Experience +25.*
*Ding. Experience +40.*
*Ding. Experience +30.*
Throughout the entire clash with Uchiha Tsuki, the points had flowed. For overcoming superior force, for successful counters, for defending against ninjutsu. The final, bone-breaking punch that ended the fight had been worth over sixty points alone.
A quick mental tally placed his total at 195/1000. A thousand to advance from Level 2 to Level 3. He had only upgraded Observation so far. Armament and Conqueror's still sat at Level 1, ripe for enhancement. But now was not the time.
"Ragnar!"
Kushina's voice, thick with emotion, broke through his internal calculations. She was running towards him, her violet eyes shimmering. Tears, born of relief and a sudden, overwhelming fear for his safety, spilled over and traced clean lines through the dust on her cheeks.
"Idiot," he said, the word coming out softer than he intended, laced with a surprise he couldn't fully hide.
"I'm fine."
"Idiot! Your arms are burned!" she fired back, her worry twisting into a scolding anger as she stopped before him, her small hands fluttering uselessly near his injuries as if afraid to touch.
The ninja instructor, whose name Ragnar had never bothered to learn—the students called him Yamada-sensei—finally stirred from his own shock. He took a long, deep breath, his gaze complex as it settled on Ragnar. "Namikaze. Hyuuga Kagami. Take some boys and bring Uchiha Tsuki to the infirmary. The rest of you, dismissed. Go home."
Hyuuga Kagami, a boy from the branch family with the Byakugan already active, nodded grimly. Minato moved with efficient grace, organizing a few others to gently lift Tsuki's unconscious form. The boy's eyes were rolled back, his jaw slack. He looked profoundly broken.
The other students began to drift away in small, whispering groups, but every glance stolen over a shoulder was aimed at Ragnar. After today, he was no longer the invisible refugee. He was the anomaly, the one who shattered shuriken with his fists and extinguished fireballs with his will. A genius, or a monster. Either way, he could no longer be ignored.
"Uzumaki-san, you should return to class as well," Yamada-sensei said, his tone brooking no argument.
"Teacher, I—" Kushina started.
"Go back to class," Ragnar interrupted, his voice firm. He understood the adult's unspoken message. This conversation was not for her ears.
"...Okay." She gave him one last, worried look, then turned and walked slowly towards the academy building, her bright hair a diminishing flame against the grey stone.
Soon, it was just the two of them on the ravaged training ground. The air grew heavy, charged with unspoken truths.
"Ragnar," Yamada-sensei began, his voice low. "I did not foresee you capable of this. It is my failure as an instructor that I did not recognize your… potential."
Ragnar said nothing. He merely waited.
The man continued, a weariness seeping into his words. "You must understand… it is not that I wished to ignore you. But you are from outside. Many here, myself included… we have lost much to shinobi from other villages. My parents…" He trailed off, the old pain a shadow in his eyes. "It is difficult to offer equal regard. Can you understand that?"
"I understand," Ragnar replied, the words heavy. He did understand. This was not the era of peace and understanding that would one day be preached. This was the grinding, bloody reality between wars. When ninja from different villages met, they fought. They killed for scraps of land, for resources, for survival. Yamada-sensei's bias wasn't born of malice, but of loss. It was the world that was wrong.
"The match with Uchiha Tsuki was unfair from the start," the instructor admitted, shame coloring his tone. "I am a mere chunin. I cannot stand against a clan like the Uchiha. For that, I apologize. But listen to me now. You have defeated him. You have humiliated him and broken his body. The Uchiha do not forgive slights. They will come for you. You must be vigilant."
"This is Konoha," Ragnar stated, though it felt hollow even as he said it. "Even the Uchiha must obey the Hokage's law."
"You underestimate their pride," Yamada said, his expression grave. "Since the Second Hokage's death, their leash has grown longer. They control the Military Police. They hold the power of arrest. You are an outsider. If they find a pretext—any pretext—to take you in, not even Lord Hokage might be able to intervene in time."
The cold thrill of victory evaporated, replaced by a colder, more familiar dread. Ragnar took a slow, controlled breath, letting the reality settle. "Thank you for the warning, sensei."
"Ragnar," Yamada said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I see now. Your future… it lies far beyond this training ground. I hope that when you attain it, you remember that Konoha, for all its flaws, gave you shelter. It is not perfect, but its heart… its future can be great. Give it time."
Ragnar gave a single, slow nod. It was not a promise of loyalty, but an acknowledgment. Konoha had saved his life. The transaction was clear. As long as the village upheld its side, he would fight for it. Survival, for now, was tied to this place.
"One more thing," Yamada added, a flicker of hard-edged pragmatism in his eyes. "You have talent. Do not hide it. Shine. Draw attention. The brighter you burn, the sooner you will enter the Hokage's sight. Under his direct protection, even the Uchiha would hesitate."
With that, the chunin did something extraordinary. He bowed, not as a superior to a student, but as one shinobi to another—a gesture of respect and solemn warning. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Ragnar alone with the scent of ozone, charred earth, and his own simmering thoughts.
Yamada-sensei. The name finally had a face, a history, a measure of respect attached to it. An ordinary man in an extraordinary world, trying to navigate its cruelties. His words couldn't change the danger, but they mapped its contours.
"Uchiha clan," Ragnar murmured to the empty field, the faint sting in his arms a reminder of their power. "Come if you dare."
He would not cower. Every challenge, every enemy, was merely another whetstone for his will. Another source of experience.
He went to the academy infirmary, where a medic-nin tutted over the burns on his arms, applied a cooling salve, and wrapped them in clean bandages. The pain was a distant, trivial thing.
The school day ended. As the students streamed out, Ragnar lingered, watching from a shadowed window. He saw Kushina, a small, hopeful figure by the main gate, her eyes scanning the crowd. Minutes ticked by. The stream of students became a trickle, then stopped. The gate guard began to swing the heavy doors shut. Her shoulders slumped, the vibrant energy seeming to drain from her. She turned and walked away, her silhouette lonely against the long shadows of the setting sun, a splash of red fading into the orange-hazed street.
He waited until she was a block away, then moved. He became a shadow himself, flitting from alley mouth to rooftop eave, using his enhanced Observation to keep her in his sensory range while staying out of sight. It was an unspoken debt, paid in stealth. He had eaten her food. He had, however inadvertently, drawn this Uchiha trouble partly because of her. He would see her safely home.
The route was quiet. Perhaps due to orders from higher up, or perhaps the sheer audacity of his afternoon display had sent a warning, but no other bullies lurked in the twilight. He watched as she reached the dignified Senju compound, shoulders still slightly drooped, and slipped inside the gate.
Only when he was certain she was secure behind those walls did he allow himself to relax his vigil. He stood at a distant street corner for a long moment, watching the compound where a future jinchuriki and a living legend resided.
Then he turned and melted into the gathering dusk, a solitary figure moving towards his own sparse refuge, the ghost of flames still clinging to his bandaged arms and the weight of a clan's enmity settling on his shoulders.
(End of Chapter)
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