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The Real Rogue Ninja Were the Friends We Incapacitated Along the Way
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 13:42:59 +0000 UTCMaintaining a swift, efficient pace, even without relying on chakra to enhance his movement, Ren moved deeper into enemy territory. His breathing remained steady, muscles fluid, and his steps light against the soft grass below. Every now and then, his hand would reach behind to check the scroll compartments on his belt or to adjust the bag on his back, still clinging to the “traveler aesthetic” that he insisted was crucial to the spirit of long-term missions.
He had been moving non-stop for several hours now, and as he neared the location of the first known rogue ninja camp marked on his map, Ren gradually began to slow down.
‘I can’t go in like a maniac,’ he thought, hopping onto a low tree branch. ‘Even if it’s a low-level rogue camp, being overconfident is how shinobi die young, and I’m too handsome to die young.’
He let his body relax as he jumped down and began to walk with measured steps, actively focusing on recovery. His chakra levels were still high, thanks to both his vast reserves and consistent control training but he knew better than to underestimate fatigue, especially with potential multiple engagements ahead.
The forest began to thin, and soon the thick, towering trees gave way to a wider, more open expanse filled with soft moss and waist-high bushes. The path ahead led into a clearing where a modest lake reflected the pale mid-afternoon sun. The surface was so smooth it looked like polished glass.
Ren’s eyes, however, were drawn not to the lake’s beauty but to the lone figure crouched beside it.
A man, appearing to be in his late thirties, was crouched low, filling his canteen from the lake. He wore no village headband, though his clothes bore the dusty hues and layered plating reminiscent of Iwagakure’s older standard shinobi wear. His body language was relaxed, too relaxed for someone hiding in enemy territory.
Ren approached quietly, but not stealthily. He stopped a few meters behind the man and casually asked, “Hey. Are you a rogue shinobi?”
The sound of the sudden voice made the man flinch violently. His hand darted toward the kunai pouch at his hip, and he half-turned, clearly ready to launch a counter-attack. But the moment he actually saw who had spoken, an unarmored, blue-haired kid, his aggression faltered.
His eyes narrowed, and a scowl appeared on his weathered face. “Who the hell are you, brat?”
Ren blinked innocently. He was dressed like a normal traveler, simple navy-blue clothes, a short jacket, and a cloth belt tied around his waist. His hair was ruffled, and his sunglasses were perched on top of his head like some wandering tourist.
Completely ignoring the tension, Ren replied cheerfully, “I’m looking for rogue ninja. Are you one?”
The man looked genuinely baffled. He stared at Ren as if trying to determine whether this was some elaborate prank or just the most suicidal child on earth.
A short, tense silence passed. Then the man scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a big, bad rogue ninja. Now go home to your mommy, kid. I’m in a good mood, so I won’t kill you. But if you stick around, maybe I’ll change my mind. Might even kill your parents while I’m at it.”
Ren nodded slowly, absorbing every word. “Hmm. So, you’re Kurosaki, right?”
The man blinked. “What?”
But before he could process it, his world tilted. Literally.
One moment he was standing upright, and the next, he was face-down on the ground with his cheek pressed against the dirt. A crushing weight pressed into his back.
“Wha-?!”
Ren was now sitting on his back, legs casually crossed as he flipped through a well-worn bingo book.
“Let’s see, let’s see… Kurosaki, Kurosaki… Where are you hiding…” he muttered, licking his finger and turning the pages. “Why are all these guys so ugly? You’d think a rogue ninja would at least maintain a dramatic aesthetic.”
The man’s eyes widened as the realization hit. Bingo book? Kid? Blue hair? Oh no.
‘I’m going to die,’ he thought, terror washing over him like a tidal wave. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple as he tried to lift his arms, but Ren’s legs were locked over his shoulder blades, pinning him like a veteran grappler.
“P-please,” Kurosaki stammered, “l-l-listen, I was just kidding! I didn’t mean what I said about killing your parents!”
Ren ignored him, flipping another page. “Ah! Found it.”
He squinted at the small sketch and the name beneath it. “Kurosaki. Rogue ninja. Formerly of a random Village from land of Earth. Rank: B. Bounty: 3 million ryo.”
He blinked in confusion. “Huh. That’s pretty low.”
Kurosaki, who had already resigned himself to his fate, tried one last desperate gamble. “Th-the bounty’s average for a B-rank! Honest! I’m not dangerous! I just, uh, skipped out on a few missions and ran away! I swear! I’ve never done anything truly evil!”
Ren tilted his head, unimpressed. “Wait, so you’re saying the bounty doesn’t just reflect strength, but also crimes committed?”
“Yes! Yes exactly!” Kurosaki nodded frantically, now clinging to that one hope. “It’s not just power, it’s your record! Like, if you burned down villages or assassinated clan leaders, that would increase your bounty! Me? I’m clean. Squeaky clean. Morally questionable, maybe, but legally harmless!”
Ren made a thoughtful noise. “Huh. That’s good to know. I was wondering how a guy like you ended up so cheap. Three million’s not even enough to buy a mid-sized summoning scroll these days.”
“I-I could disappear!” Kurosaki said quickly. “You’ll never hear from me again! Cross my heart, I’ll vanish into a cave and take up knitting!”
Ren ignored him and reached into his pouch. With one smooth motion, he flicked a senbon needle into Kurosaki’s heart. The man’s breath hitched, his muscles twitched once and then he slumped completely.
Silence.
Ren stood up and dusted off his pants. ‘That’s one down. Nine to go before I get a free ramen reward from myself and a point from the system.’
He stared at the body for a moment, then scratched his head. “How am I supposed to prove I killed him again?”
He remembered the bounty center system, most wanted the head or an identifying feature. But some preferred the whole body to confirm chakra signatures and unique jutsu signs.
With a resigned sigh, Ren pulled out a clean storage scroll and opened a compartment.
“Sorry buddy, into the scroll you go,” he muttered as he sealed Kurosaki’s body into the scroll. “You better not smell weird when I unseal you.”
That done, he tucked the scroll away and adjusted his bag. Then, without another word, he turned and resumed walking along the trail. His pace was slower now, more deliberate. He wanted to make sure he approached the next camp cautiously.
But inside his mind, the gears were turning.
‘So three million for a clean B-rank. That means if I start wiping out camps, some of them are bound to have higher bounties. Especially if they’ve caused trouble for the Great Nations. More money. More rewards. Same stats. But probably more interesting fights.’
A smile formed on his face.
He was getting into the groove of things now.
This wasn’t just about missions or objectives anymore.
This was a hunt and he was going to be the apex predator.
~~~
The forest grew denser as Ren moved deeper southeast, following the general direction chosen earlier by his highly scientific "stick method." His pace was moderate now, not because he was tired, but because he had started humming a tune as he ran, which he refused to ruin with high-speed movement.
He jumped from one tree branch to another with the ease of a jungle monkey, then finally stopped as he landed on a thick branch and sniffed the air slightly.
“Campfire,” he muttered.
That meant one of two things: either some rogue ninjas were cozying up for story time, or a really lost civilian had decided to set up shop in one of the most dangerous parts of the Land of Fire. Either way, it was worth checking out.
Ren knelt on the branch and narrowed his eyes. He spread a light sensory field around him, not enough to alert anyone trained, just a light pulse and sure enough, he felt multiple chakra signatures in the distance. Nine in total.
“Bingo,” he whispered. “One big fish, two medium fries, and six nuggets.”
He jumped down and walked the last bit on foot.
The camp came into view after a few minutes: a half-cleared glade with three tents, a smoldering campfire, and several rogue ninja lounging around like they owned the place.
One of them was sharpening a kunai on a whetstone.
Another was roasting something suspiciously shaped like a squirrel.
Two others were mid-argument over what counted as “proper loot” from their last ambush.
And near the center, leaning casually against a tree stump, sat the leader, a tall man with a jagged scar across his neck and grey-blue hair tied back in a knot. His presence was heavier than the rest, his chakra thicker and colder.
Ren walked right into the camp like he was out on a Sunday stroll.
“Hey guys!” he called out, waving casually.
Every head snapped toward him.
Half the camp stood up immediately, weapons half-drawn. The rest exchanged wary looks. The A-rank leader narrowed his eyes.
“…Who the hell are you?” one of the B-rankers growled.
Ren ignored the question and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his bingo book. He squinted at the camp as he flipped it open.
“Don’t mind me, just looking for your entries. Let’s see... what do we have here?”
The rogues stared.
“Kid, are you lost?” one of the C-ranks asked, clearly more confused than aggressive now. “This ain’t the kind of place for sightseeing.”
Ren pointed at the speaker with his free hand. “You. Brown hair. Ugly scar on your chin. You’re Kiri no Daisuke, right?”
The man blinked. “I-uh yeah?”
Ren smiled. “500,000 bounty, C-rank, missing-nin from Rain Country. Confirmed kill count of six shinobi, including one civilian trader.”
The man tensed. “Wait, how do you know-”
“You’re number two on today’s punch card,” Ren interrupted as he flicked a small kunai. It hit Daisuke clean through the throat, and he dropped like a sack of bad decisions.
Instant panic.
“IT’S A HUNTER!” one of the B-ranks shouted, and the camp erupted into chaos.
Ren sighed and calmly put his bingo book down on a stump, then stretched.
“You’d think they’d react better after getting a chance to run.”
The other C-ranks leapt into action, five of them rushing him from different angles, clearly trying to overwhelm him with numbers.
Ren didn’t even move from his spot. He let them come.
One tried a flying kick. Ren stepped slightly to the side, caught the man's leg, and swung him mid-air into the next attacker like a baseball bat. They both went down groaning.
The third one tried a stabbing strike with a tanto. Ren twisted around him, stepped on his back, and pushed off, launching himself into a midair flip before stomping down on the fourth rogue’s head with surgical precision. That guy crumpled with a satisfying crack.
The fifth rogue actually had some sense and stopped short, looking around for an escape route. Ren casually picked up a rock and flicked it with his finger. It hit the guy in the temple, knocking him out cold.
“Five down,” Ren muttered. “Okay, back to the book.”
The two B-rankers had regrouped and were standing side by side, clearly more cautious now. One of them shouted, “Don’t engage recklessly! Use the formation!”
Ren groaned. “Please don’t tell me you people actually practiced formations.”
The duo began to circle him, trying to get behind him.
Ren calmly flipped through his book again and muttered, “Let’s see... Oh, found you. Genga and Rato. Twin Blades of the West, huh? Your bounty pictures really don’t do justice to how ugly you are in person.”
The two snarled and charged in perfect sync. Their movements were tight, coordinated, they had obviously been fighting together for years.
Ren met them head-on.
What followed was less a fight and more a rhythm exercise. Genga’s dual kunai slashed in, Rato followed with a spinning kick, and Ren ducked under both in one seamless motion, grabbed the nearest wrist, dislocated it, flipped Genga over his shoulder, and slammed him into Rato’s face like a sack of laundry.
Then he just stepped on both their heads at once as they struggled to get up.
“Teamwork is important,” Ren said, dusting off his hands. “But only if both team members are, you know, competent.”
Now only the A-rank was left.
The man had remained in his spot through most of the chaos, watching quietly. Now, he stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on Ren. “You’re not normal,” he said. His voice was gravelly, like someone who had been chain-smoking since birth.
Ren beamed. “Thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”
The man drew a massive cleaver-like blade off his back and pointed it forward.
“I’m Kiriko of the Mist. Former Captain of the Bloody Bell unit. And I’ll be your death today.”
“Right, right, dramatic entrance and all,” Ren said. “Let’s check your stats real quick.”
He pulled out his bingo book again, flipped to a marked page, and grinned.
“Aha! Kiriko. A-rank. Level 57. Bounty of... 5 million ryo? That’s it?”
Kiriko didn’t answer. Instead, he vanished in a blur.
The cleaver came down with a savage roar, but Ren was no longer there.
He had sidestepped without even a hint of chakra.
Kiriko spun and slashed again. The blade tore through the air but again, Ren wasn’t there.
In fact, he was behind him now, arms folded, looking disappointed.
“You swing like a man who was trained by other men who died too quickly.”
Kiriko snarled and began attacking wildly, each swing stronger than the last, and each one missing by a hair. Ren ducked under one, weaved through another, hopped on the cleaver and backflipped over Kiriko’s head, landing gracefully behind him.
Kiriko whirled, ready to swing again, but Ren was already moving.
His fist met the man’s gut like a battering ram.
CRACK.
Kiriko’s body folded in half mid-air before crashing into a tree trunk, snapping it cleanly in two.
He groaned, tried to get up, but Ren was already there, squatting next to him, scribbling something in his book.
“What are you doing?” Kiriko wheezed.
Ren tapped the page with his pen. “Just writing a note next to your bounty. ‘Extremely disappointing. No chakra needed. Sad face.’”
Kiriko raised his hand weakly. “W-wait!”
Ren stabbed his heart cleanly with a chakra-coated finger jab.
“Ten out of ten for dramatic presence,” he muttered. “Zero out of ten for results.”
He stood up and looked around the camp. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Nine unconscious or dead. One A-rank, two B-rank, five C-ranks.
Ren reached into his pouch and pulled out several scrolls.
“This is gonna be annoying,” he muttered as he began sealing the bodies, one by one. “Wish I had a servant for corpse collection. I swear the real villain of this world is paperwork.”
Once all the bodies were sealed, he walked to a nearby rock and sat down, stretching.
“That’s one A-rank mission and one claim toward the kill count target done. Not a bad start.”
He leaned back, hands behind his head, smiling.
“Wonder if the next group will be more entertaining.”
~~~~~
{Just wanted you to know that not all the rouges would so brain dead or weak, there will be some interesting fights too.}
Comments
Kyle.S406
1A+2B+5C=8 not 9
