Chapitre 236: 235-I was Afraid You Wouldn't Show Yourself
The mission center buzzed with activity, filled with shinobi of varying ranks discussing their next assignments or handing in completed ones. The air smelled faintly of paper and ink, mixed with the warm light of the morning sun streaming through the tall windows.
Renjiro stood in the middle of it all, a contemplative look on his face as he scanned the long list of available missions pinned to the mission board. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, his flak jacket slung over his shoulders with the casual indifference of someone accustomed to far more dangerous tasks than what this board likely offered.
'What mission should I take?' Renjiro thought, tapping a finger absently on the scroll in his hand.
His sharp gaze moved methodically over the list, assessing his options, though his thoughts were already elsewhere. He wasn't here for the challenge or prestige of high-ranking missions. No, this time, his goals were far more personal.
His eyes flickered briefly as he sighed under his breath. 'I need to find something simple and quick,' he decided.
'I need time to finish my experimentations away from the village. Can't let these missions take up too much of my schedule.'
The village bustled around him as he weighed his options, his thoughts occasionally interrupted by passing shinobi greeting him or the shuffle of papers from the mission desk. Renjiro ignored the noise. His mind was focused on something else entirely—his experimentations.
He had just learnt the Yamanaka clan technique, the one that afforded him the ability to read memories. The jutsu was potent but required a level of precision in chakra control that even he hadn't fully mastered yet. Thankfully, all he needed to do was practice it.
'But first, I've got to meet my quota,' he thought with a touch of exasperation.
He remembered the village's expectations for its jounin, especially those in his category. As a jounin of Konoha, Renjiro was part of the mission-taking group—the shinobi who handled external assignments, often travelling far beyond the village to handle difficult or time-sensitive issues.
The jounin ranks were organized into several groups. First, there were the jounin senseis, who were tasked with training genin teams. Then there were the administrative jounin, the ones who handled village logistics, security, and strategy—like Nara Shiba, the current Jounin Commander, who spent more time organizing missions than going on them.
Renjiro belonged to the third group: the mission jounin, responsible for taking on tasks that brought revenue and prestige to Konoha. Of course, there was the mysterious fourth group, the Anbu, but their identities were shrouded in secrecy, making it hard to tell who among the mission jounin might also be part of the elite assassination squad. For all Renjiro knew, some of his fellow jounin could be double agents within their own ranks.
'I have a minimum number of missions to complete each month,' Renjiro thought with a mild frown. 'Better kill two birds with one stone; complete the missions and my experiments at the same time.'
Finally, his gaze settled on a list of C-rank missions. His smirk widened as he made his selection. Ten C-rank missions, all straightforward enough to not waste his time but useful for his objectives. They involved dealing with small bandit groups scattered across the neighbouring towns and villages. Perfect.
He took the mission scrolls and approached the attendant. The young shinobi behind the desk blinked in confusion as Renjiro handed over the stack of missions.
"Ten C-rank missions?" the attendant asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"But… you're a jounin. These are more suited for—"
"I know what I'm doing," Renjiro interrupted, his tone clipped but not unkind.
He wasn't in the mood to explain himself. The attendant, clearly unsure how to argue since Renjiro outranked him, gave a reluctant nod and stamped the approvals.
Once the missions were approved, Renjiro tucked the scrolls into his pouch and turned, his mind already far ahead. He left the village without looking back.
Renjiro moved swiftly through the dense forests surrounding the Land of Fire, his body a blur of motion as he made his way to his first target.
'Bandits are perfect for this kind of work,' he thought as he leapt from branch to branch, his movements smooth and calculated. 'No one cares about them, and if something goes wrong during the technique… no one will be looking for them anyway.'
It took him about an hour to reach the first village, situated just south of the Land of Fire's borders. The villagers had reported a small group of bandits terrorizing them, and Renjiro had no trouble locating their camp just beyond the village's edge.
He observed the group for a moment from the treetops, watching them laugh and drink around their campfire, completely unaware of the predator stalking them from above.
'This shouldn't take long,' Renjiro thought, his Sharingan flashing into focus.
In a single, fluid motion, he descended on the bandits like a shadow. His kunai sliced through the air with lethal precision, and within moments, the camp was silent. Bodies littered the ground, the once-rowdy bandits now nothing more than corpses, their eyes staring blankly at the sky.
Renjiro knelt beside the nearest body and pressed his hand against the bandit's forehead, concentrating as he attempted to channel his chakra into the dead man's mind.
The Yamanaka clan's memory-reading jutsu required delicate chakra control. Too much, and the mind would shatter; too little, and the connection would fail.
A frown creased Renjiro's brow as he focused, his chakra flowing into the bandit's head.
Nothing happened.
'Did I use too much chakra?' Renjiro wondered, pulling his hand away and scowling at the corpse. He had been careful—or so he thought.
Not one to give up easily, Renjiro moved to the next body and tried again. Once more, his chakra flowed into the dead bandit's brain, and once more, the result was the same. Nothing. A hollow silence greeted his efforts, the memories locked away beyond his reach.
'Tch,' Renjiro clicked his tongue in frustration.
But he wasn't discouraged. This was exactly why he had chosen these missions. He needed practice—real, hands-on practice to fine-tune his efficiency with the jutsu.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees, Renjiro completed the rest of the mission in a similar fashion. He cleared out bandit camps with ruthless efficiency, each time pausing to try the memory-reading technique, and each time finding himself stymied by the delicate balance of chakra required.
Still, he was learning. Every failure brought him one step closer to mastering the technique.
By the time Renjiro reached the eighth mission, deep in the forests near a winding river, he felt the progress. His attempts were becoming more refined, more precise, and he could sense that he was on the verge of a breakthrough.
The bandits in this camp were just as careless as the others. Renjiro cut them down swiftly, his movements almost mechanical at this point. He wiped the blood from his Kunai and knelt beside one of the fallen bodies, his fingers pressing against the bandit's cold forehead.
This time, as he channelled his chakra into the dead man's mind, there was a flicker. Renjiro's eyes widened slightly as he felt a connection form—a brief but distinct sensation of something stirring within the bandit's memories.
He pushed gently, coaxing the memories to the surface, and suddenly, they came flooding into his mind. He saw flashes of the bandit's life—stolen goods, deals made in the shadows, betrayal among comrades. Renjiro's breath hitched as the images flowed through him, fast and chaotic, but undeniably real.
'I did it,' he thought, pulling back from the dead bandit's mind with a satisfied grin.
His hand slipped from the man's forehead, and he let the body slump back to the ground, unceremoniously dropping the head with a soft thud.
Renjiro stood, dusting off his hands, and a contented, almost smug look crossed his face. He had finally succeeded. Now he just had to increase his success rate.
But just as the thrill of success washed over him, he felt a shift in the air.
From the shadows of the trees, twenty figures emerged, their clothing blending with the dim light of the forest. They formed a tight circle around Renjiro, weapons gleaming faintly in the fading sunlight.
Renjiro's expression didn't falter. If anything, his grin widened, a dark glint flashing in his eyes.
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed in the quiet forest. "For a moment there," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "I was afraid you guys weren't going to show up."
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