Chapter 77: The Paper Crane and the Summons
In the tapestry of the future Ragnar remembered, Yahiko, Konan, and Nagato's path was altered by the Three Sannin—specifically, by Jiraiya's year of mentorship. That intervention had birthed the Akatsuki's idealistic core, which later warped into something else entirely.
Now, that thread was being pulled by a different hand. His hand. Nagato was absent from their little trio. The request Yahiko had just made was a direct divergence. Teaching them ninjutsu now would undoubtedly change their destinies, potentially causing a cascade of alterations to the future he knew.
For a moment, he weighed the implications. Then, he dismissed them. I am the anomaly. The moment he awoke in this world with a system from another, the so-called 'plot' became a suggestion, not a script. His own survival and goals came first. Whatever butterfly effects flapped their wings, he would adapt.
He looked at Yahiko, then at Konan, seeing the raw, desperate hope in their eyes. The desire for power to claw their way out of helplessness. He understood it better than anyone.
"Wanting to become a ninja," Ragnar began, his voice measured, "to stand on your own and defy fate… it's not a path of ease or joy. The process is grueling. Power is never free. In this world, everything exacts a price."
"No price could be harder than what we've already paid," Yahiko shot back, his voice iron-strong. Konan nodded silently beside him, her small jaw set. The struggle to survive as orphans in a warzone had already been their tutelage in hardship.
Ragnar gave a slow, final nod. "Alright."
Yahiko's entire body slumped in relief, a bright, genuine smile breaking through like sun after a storm. Konan's eyes shimmered with profound gratitude, a silent 'thank you' conveyed in her gaze.
"Then we start with the foundation," Ragnar said, setting his cup aside. "First question: what is chakra?"
Two blank, curious stares. They'd heard the word, a thing of legends and terror, but knew nothing concrete.
"Chakra is energy," Ragnar explained, falling into the simple, clear tones of a Konoha academy instructor. "It is born from the perfect blend of spiritual energy—the power of your mind and will—and physical energy, drawn from every cell in your body. Through training and discipline, you learn to draw it out, refine it, and wield it. The first, non-negotiable step to becoming a ninja is to successfully extract chakra. Fail at this, and the path is closed to you."
Yahiko's face tightened with sudden anxiety. What if I can't?
Ragnar ignored the unspoken fear and guided them through the basic meditation techniques, the same ones taught to every Konoha child. He explained focusing the mind, feeling the internal flow of energy, merging the two sources. He repeated the steps, simplified the concepts, until they nodded with a glimmer of understanding.
"Meditation is your starting line. Focus. Feel your body, your breath, every sensation. Find the energy within."
Then, he left them to it. The process was a test of innate talent. Some grasped it in hours, some in days. A month of failure usually meant a life as a civilian. But Ragnar harbored no doubt. These two were future pillars of an organization that would shake the world. They would succeed.
While they sat cross-legged in intense concentration, Ragnar didn't idle. He continued his own refinement, pushing Sakumo's Lightning chakra cell-activation method further, integrating it more seamlessly with his Shave. Peace was a resource, and he mined it for every ounce of progress.
He also didn't seal himself away. He made regular trips to nearby settlements, a shadow procuring supplies. He bought nutritious food—meat, vegetables, things Yahiko and Konan's starved bodies desperately needed—and paid for it with coins taken from the pouches of the ninja he hunted on these excursions. Information and sustenance, gathered in the same grim harvest.
Over half a month slipped by. The outside world was not so peaceful. The Second Shinobi World War was escalating from a simmer to a rolling boil. Ragnar felt it in the increased frequency of patrols, the tension in the air of towns, the sheer volume of bodies—ninja and civilian—left to rot in the rain. Amegakure, under Hanzo's cold leadership, had begun to push back in earnest against the three great villages using its land as a battleground. The legend of the Salamander's poison spread new terror. The war had entered its bloody, decisive phase.
Yet, in their secluded clearing, a different story unfolded. As Ragnar predicted, neither Yahiko nor Konan struggled with chakra extraction. Konan was faster, achieving it in just under three days, a testament to her sharp mental control. Yahiko followed half a day later, his chakra nature revealing itself as a dual affinity for Water and Fire, a volatile but potent combination.
Konan's chakra was… unique. It didn't resonate strongly with any of the five basic natures. Ragnar suspected a Yin affiliation, a potential for the kind of unique, bloodline-like techniques that defined clans. It made sense. Her future mastery over paper wasn't a standard elemental release; it was a specialized art, likely born from this peculiar chakra and her own innate affinity, perhaps nurtured by her childhood habit of folding paper cranes.
He had a limited repertoire of conventional ninjutsu to teach, scavenged from the scrolls and memories of his kills. Yahiko devoured Fire Release techniques with a boyish, destructive glee, often leaving scorched patches in the clearing. Ragnar quietly noted Yahiko's Water affinity seemed stronger, but the boy, living in a land of perpetual damp, seemed to unconsciously reject it, favoring the fire that defied his environment.
Konan was a different student. Precise, patient, a natural at chakra control. She could theoretically learn any of the basic elemental jutsu he showed her, but her interest was clearly elsewhere. She began experimenting, using her chakra to manipulate paper—folding it, making it flutter, trying to give it an edge. Ragnar could only offer broad principles and his own insights into energy manipulation. The creation of her signature style would be her own journey.
The rare, rainless moments in the Land of Rain were gloomy affairs, the sky still a blanket of lead. In the clearing, Konan practiced. Dozens of sheets of paper, scavenged from town, hovered in the air around her, quivering with contained chakra. The display was more elegant than powerful, a nascent dance of control.
"Your chakra control is excellent," Ragnar observed, standing a few paces behind her. "Far beyond Yahiko's at this stage."
Konan started slightly, the papers losing cohesion and fluttering to the wet grass. She turned, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Teacher Ragnar," she said, the title still formal, still filled with a respect that bordered on awe.
He'd grown accustomed to it, though it felt strange. In true years, the gap was small. In experience and power, it was a canyon.
"Look, Teacher!" Konan said, her voice lifting with a rare, childlike excitement. She focused, and two sheets of paper lifted before her. With intense concentration, she made them fold and crease in mid-air, transforming them into delicate, intricate paper cranes that hovered with a faint chakra glow.
"A impressive display of fine control," Ragnar remarked, genuinely impressed. This was chunin-level manipulation already.
"Teacher… for you," Konan said, her blush deepening. She willed one of the cranes to glide towards him. But her skill at telekinetic propulsion was still rudimentary. The crane wobbled, dipped, and landed softly in the grass halfway between them.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face.
Ragnar stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the paper crane. It was perfectly folded, a tiny work of art. "The intent is appreciated," he said, his tone softening minutely. "Keep practicing."
"Y-yes," Konan murmured, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her ear before turning back to her work with renewed determination.
Ragnar left her to it, moving to check on Yahiko, who was, predictably, trying to breathe fire at a stubborn stump.
The peace, however, was a ticking clock. A week later, as dusk settled after a day of training, Ragnar returned to the small cabin alone. He stopped in the doorway.
On the rough-hewn table sat a scroll that hadn't been there before. It was sealed with the distinctive, complex pattern of Konoha ANBU Special Projects.
His senses hadn't detected an intruder. The scout who delivered it was a ghost among ghosts. His connection to the network, it seemed, was never truly severed.
He moved to the table, performed the series of hand seals that matched the locking formula, and unrolled the parchment.
The message was brief, written in Hiruzen Sarutobi's own coded shorthand. As Ragnar's eyes scanned the lines, the calm, controlled atmosphere of the cabin shattered.
[INTEL CONFIRMED. SANNIIN TEAM (JIRAIYA, OROCHIMARU, TSUNADE) AMBUSHED BY IWAGAKURE ELITE FORCES DEEP IN RAIN COUNTRY. DRIVEN INTO HOSTILE HINTERLAND. SITUATION CRITICAL. PRIORITY ALPHA: RENDEZVOUS AND EXTRACTION. OPERATIVE RAKSHASA, PROCEED WITHOUT DELAY.]
The paper crumpled in his fist. A cold, razor-edged fury, different from any battle-lust, coiled in his gut. Tsunade. Images flashed: her healing his injuries in Konoha, her brusque kindness, the scroll on Strange Power, the unspoken title of 'sister' he used for her in his mind. She was in trouble. Surrounded. In critical danger.
The killing intent he usually kept leashed boiled over for an instant, a physical wave of icy malice that filled the small space.
"T-Teacher Ragnar? What's wrong?"
Two small, frightened voices from the doorway. Yahiko and Konan stood there, having followed him back, their faces bone-white, trembling as if plunged into an icy lake. The aura of a killer who had ended over a hundred lives was not something their young, barely-tapped chakra systems could withstand.
Ragnar forcibly reined the emotion back, sealing it away. The cabin warmed a degree. He looked at their terrified, concerned faces.
"Yahiko. Konan," he said, his voice steady but carrying a finality that made their hearts sink. "I have to go."
(End of Chapter)
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