Chapter 39: The First Bloom of Youth
Dense, ancient forests, with trees so massive they seemed to hold up the sky itself. No other nation boasted such colossal timber, a natural advantage that Konoha ninjas leveraged for stealth, ambush, and pursuit.
Ragnar and Might Dai moved through this green labyrinth, tracking their target. In less than a day, they found it: a modest merchant caravan of about twenty-five souls, traveling near the Fire Country's border. In these turbulent times, a group of this size was a noteworthy anomaly.
"Isn't this C-rank mission a bit… too easy, Ragnar-sama?" Dai whispered from their perch in a towering tree. He'd expected a fierce battle from the administrator's warnings. Instead, it was simple surveillance of a suspicious caravan. The pay was fantastic. He mentally calculated how many such missions it would take to secure a comfortable future for his family, freeing him to focus entirely on his "Blossoming Youth" training.
"Don't let your guard down, Dai," Ragnar replied, his voice low. His Observation Haki, now at Level 3, was humming with a subtle, persistent warning. The caravan gave off no overtly hostile aura, but his senses, attuned to the flow of life and intent, detected a dissonance. Something was wrong.
"Ragnar-sama worries too much! As long as we remain hidden, we are—" Dai began, his trademark grin flashing.
"Quiet," Ragnar cut him off. He'd been observing for hours. On the fourth evening, he finally spoke his conclusions. "Dai. Have you noticed the inconsistencies?"
"Inconsistencies?"
Ragnar resisted a sigh. Dai's genius lay in his fists, not his intellect. "First: a mid-sized caravan in this era, without a single hired ninja escort? Unlikely. Second: they've taken backroads and game trails for days, avoiding the patrolled main highways. More dangerous for merchants, less observable for us. Third," his voice dropped further, "and most critical. I counted twenty-five people initially. I count twenty-one now. Where did the other four go?"
The implications sank into Dai's mind. His grin vanished, replaced by a cold sweat. "We've been made!"
SWOOSH!
As if on cue, three dark figures erupted from the undergrowth not ten meters away. They wore Kirigakure forehead protectors, kunai gleaming in the dappled forest light, their movements silent and lethal as they lunged.
"Move!" Ragnar barked.
He employed Shave, the air cracking as he vanished from his perch, reappearing twenty meters away on the forest floor. His Observation Haki flared wide. From the direction of the now-stationary caravan, multiple powerful chakra signatures burst into activity, converging on their position at high speed.
Might Dai, not yet using his Gates, relied on pure, honed reflexes. He threw himself into an inelegant but effective dive-roll, the kunai slicing through the air where his neck had been. He scrambled to his feet, facing the three ninjas now perched on branches above. All three radiated the pressure of Elite Chunin.
"Ragnar-sama! Run! I'll hold them!" Dai shouted, guilt and fierce protectiveness warring in his voice. He'd dismissed the warnings. Now they were ambushed.
"Heh. We thought we had a real tail. Just an Eternal Genin and a brat. Has Konoha fallen so low?" a tall, scar-faced Kiri ninja sneered. His companions chuckled darkly.
"You may insult me! But you will not insult Konoha!" Dai roared, his voice trembling not with fear, but with outrage.
"Eight Inner Gates: First Gate, Gate of Opening, RELEASE!"
"Second Gate, Gate of Healing, RELEASE!"
"Third Gate, Gate of Life, RELEASE!"
"Fourth Gate, Gate of Pain, RELEASE!"
The transformations were instantaneous. Four Gates flew open in rapid succession. Scalding steam erupted from Dai's pores. His muscles visibly swelled and corded beneath his green suit. A violent, blue chakra aura enveloped him, crackling with raw, unleashed life force. The air around him grew hot and distorted. The pressure radiating from him now was no longer that of a genin, but brushed against the lower thresholds of a Jonin.
This was the debut of Konoha's first "Green Beast"—not the future taijutsu master, but his father, who had poured decades of unseen sweat and pain into mastering this forbidden art.
"The Eight Gates…" Ragnar observed, a flicker of respect in his eyes. Had he not obtained his system, this might have been his own path—a path of pure, self-destructive will.
"HAH!" Dai's fighting spirit ignited. With a sound like a tearing canvas, he disappeared.
His speed now dwarfed a standard Body Flicker. Pure taijutsu practitioners, who used their bodies as their sole weapon, often achieved the fastest raw movement. Dai materialized behind the scar-faced ninja.
"Konoha Senpū! (Leaf Hurricane)!"
His leg rose like a guillotine blade and swept down. The force generated a visible arc of compressed air.
The Kiri ninja had no time to process the speed. The kick connected with his shoulder with a sickening crunch, hurling him like a ragdoll into a tree trunk where he slumped, unmoving.
Dai didn't pause. He became a blue-green blur, afterimages flickering through the dim forest. The remaining two Kiri chunin, backs pressed together, eyes wide with panic, spun frantically, trying to track the impossible speed.
You never judge a Konoha ninja by their rank, Ragnar thought, a grim approval in his heart. Dai's lifetime of effort was paying its bloody dividends.
But his Observation Haki pulled his attention away from Dai's spectacle. The main force from the caravan was closing in fast. This mission had just escalated dramatically.
As he focused on the approaching threats, a small, inconspicuous puddle of rainwater a few feet behind him rippled.
Without a sound, a fourth Kiri ninja—the missing fourth from the caravan count—rose from the water itself, a mastered Water Release: Hiding in Water Technique. A shuriken, aimed with silent precision, shot toward the base of Ragnar's skull.
THWIP!
"Got you!" the ninja hissed in triumph.
"Water concealment. You're the fourth missing one. Kirigakure," Ragnar stated, his voice calm. He didn't turn.
ZAP—CRACKLE!
The Kiri ninja's eyes bulged. A searing, white-hot pain blossomed in his chest. He looked down. A fist, wreathed in arcing, chirping Lightning Release chakra, was buried in his sternum. The speed had been incomprehensible.
He tried to speak, but only a gurgle emerged. His own shuriken was still embedded in… what? It felt like striking solid iron. How?
His vision darkened as he collapsed, the life extinguished from him before he even understood he'd failed.
Ragnar withdrew his fist, the crackling lightning fading. His other hand reached behind his neck and plucked out the shuriken. Where it had struck, a patch of skin was sheathed in the faint, residual black sheen of Armament Haki. It hadn't even broken the skin.
The first true skirmish had begun. The Green Beast was unleashed. And the demonic blade at Ragnar's side remained untouched, its hunger still unsated.
(End of Chapter)
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