Chapter 7: First Blood, Hidden Harvest
The jump from D-rank to C-rank missions was a significant one, a tangible step into the wider, more dangerous world that lay beyond Konoha's protective walls. Team Ten stood before the mission assignment desk, Izumi-sensei looking stern as a Chunin official detailed their first significant task: escorting a minor merchant, Master Tadashi, and his modest cargo of textiles to a town three days' journey away, through the sparsely populated Kawa no Kuni (Land of Rivers) region – an area known for its winding paths and opportunistic bandits.
Kenji felt a familiar tingle of anticipation beneath his carefully maintained veneer of stoic Genin diligence. This was an opportunity. Travel, potential conflict, and the chance to observe his team under genuine pressure.
The journey began uneventfully. Choza, despite his size, had surprising stamina, though his snack consumption was prodigious. Inoichi was quieter than usual, his senses likely extended, passively scanning their surroundings for threats with the foundational Yamanaka techniques. Izumi-sensei moved with the quiet confidence of an experienced shinobi, her gaze constantly sweeping their flanks. Kenji walked near the rear, his posture relaxed but his senses fully engaged. He could smell the damp earth, the distant scent of unfamiliar blossoms, and the faint, metallic tang of old blood on a weathered trail marker they passed – a silent story only he could fully read.
Master Tadashi, a nervous, rotund man, chattered incessantly, mostly about the thread counts of his fabrics. Kenji tuned him out, focusing on the subtle nuances of his environment and his teammates. He noted Inoichi's tendency to favour his left side when tired, Choza's surprising bursts of speed when motivated by the promise of food, and Izumi-sensei's habit of briefly touching the scar on her arm when deep in thought. All data. All potentially useful.
On the second day, as they navigated a narrow pass flanked by dense forest, Kenji's enhanced hearing picked it up first – the almost inaudible snap of a twig too heavy for a forest creature, the faint rustle of fabric against leather, the slight, acrid scent of unwashed bodies and cheap steel. He didn't react overtly. Instead, as if idly kicking a stone, he dislodged a small rock that rolled innocuously towards Izumi-sensei.
"Sensei," he said, his voice carefully neutral, "this path feels a bit… exposed, doesn't it?" He gestured vaguely towards the dense trees.
Izumi-sensei, already on alert from the dislodged stone which he knew she'd interpret as a subtle warning given their previous unspoken communication, narrowed her eyes. "Inoichi, anything?"
Inoichi focused, his brow furrowed. "I… I think so. Multiple contacts. Hiding. Ahead, in the trees."
"Positions!" Izumi snapped, and years of Konoha training kicked in. Choza moved to protect Tadashi, his stance widening. Inoichi drew a kunai, his eyes darting.
Five bandits emerged from the treeline, clad in mismatched armor, their weapons crude but clearly intended for harm. They were a standard pack of highwaymen, likely preying on undefended travelers.
"Well, well, what have we here?" their leader, a brute with a jagged scar across his nose, sneered. "A tasty morsel and a few leaf-wearing brats. Hand over your goods and valuables, and we might let the kids live."
Izumi-sensei stepped forward. "Konoha shinobi. Leave now, and you will be spared."
The bandit leader laughed. "Brave words, little leaf. Attack!"
The fight was messy and brutal, unlike the sanitized spars of the academy. Izumi-sensei engaged the leader, their movements a blur of steel and jutsu. Kenji, Inoichi, and Choza faced the remaining four. Choza, using his Partial Expansion Jutsu to enlarge his fists, was a surprisingly effective brawler, his blows sending bandits staggering. Inoichi, though clearly nervous, used his clan's techniques to momentarily confuse one attacker, allowing Choza to land a decisive blow.
Kenji played his part. He "narrowly" dodged a sword thrust, his heart rate deliberately elevated for verisimilitude. He threw shuriken that went wide, but forced an opponent to duck into the path of one of Izumi-sensei's well-aimed kunai. Then, he saw his opening.
One bandit, momentarily disoriented by Choza, stumbled near a patch of uneven, rocky ground. Kenji, feigning a desperate defensive move, "tripped" and fell towards him. As he went down, unseen by his teammates in the chaos, he subtly channeled earth chakra. The ground beneath the bandit, already unstable, gave way slightly, not enough to be an obvious jutsu, but enough to make him lose his footing completely. As the bandit flailed, Kenji's hand, the nails subtly hardened from his mole-essence absorption, lashed out in a seemingly panicked swipe. The hardened nails raked across the bandit's exposed wrist, severing tendons. The man screamed, dropping his weapon.
Izumi-sensei finished off the leader with a swift Fire Release technique. The remaining two bandits, seeing their leader fall and two of their comrades incapacitated, lost their nerve and fled into the woods. Izumi didn't pursue; their priority was the merchant.
"Everyone alright?" she asked, her breathing slightly heavy.
Choza was scraped but exultant. Inoichi was pale but steady. Kenji offered a shaky nod, clutching his arm where he'd "landed awkwardly." Master Tadashi was gibbering incoherently but unharmed.
"Good work, Team Ten," Izumi said, a rare hint of approval in her voice. "Secure the wounded. We'll take their weapons."
While Izumi and Inoichi tended to the bandit Kenji had incapacitated (the one with the severed tendons) and Choza stood guard, Kenji was tasked with checking the bandit who had been knocked out by Choza. This was his moment.
The man was unconscious, breathing shallowly. Perfect. With his back to the others, feigning to check the man's pulse, Kenji's hand rested on his chest. The familiar cold focus descended. This was faster, more urgent than his previous harvests, the risk of discovery higher. He didn't have time for a full, meticulous decomposition. Instead, he focused on a targeted extraction – a swift, brutal draw of the man's remaining life force and any readily available biological markers.
It was a cruder process, less refined, but effective. He felt a jolt of raw, untamed energy flow into him, along with a confusing jumble of base instincts – aggression, fear, a rudimentary understanding of brawling tactics. Nothing particularly useful in terms of unique skills or Kekkei Genkai, but it was another data point, another small addition to his reserves. He felt a flicker of the man's recent memories – the ambush plan, the desperate fear as Choza's fist connected. He ruthlessly suppressed them. Sentiment was a weakness.
When he was done, the bandit was still breathing, but significantly weaker, his life force diminished. Kenji made sure to "find" a hidden pouch of coins on him, presenting it to Izumi-sensei as spoils. "He won't be fighting anyone soon, Sensei," Kenji said, his voice carefully conveying the residual fear of a Genin who'd faced real combat.
The rest of the journey was tense but uneventful. They delivered Master Tadashi, who was now far more respectful of his shinobi escorts.
Their return to Konoha was met with quiet approval. Completing a C-rank mission with a hostile encounter and no casualties on their side was a good mark for a new team.
That night, Kenji didn't go out. He lay on his cot, analyzing the day's events. The fight had been illuminating. His teammates, for all their flaws, were not incompetent. Izumi-sensei was capable. He had managed to contribute decisively but deniably. The rapid, targeted extraction was a new development, riskier but situationally useful. The influx of the bandit's raw energy left a slightly unpleasant residue, a chaotic edge he would need to purify more thoroughly over time.
He thought of the bandit whose wrist he'd slashed. There had been a moment, a fraction of a second, where he could have killed him easily, made it look like part of the fall. He had chosen not to, not out of mercy, but because an incapacitated, living enemy was less suspicious in this instance. But the ease with which the thought had crossed his mind, the cold calculation of it, was telling.
The path he walked was becoming slick with more than just mud and water. And with each step, each hidden harvest, the darkness within him found more fertile ground. The coming wars, he knew, would offer a veritable cornucopia. He just needed to ensure he was strong enough, and cunning enough, to feast.