"Gathering food"—a mission that sounded simple on paper, yet in practice, it was both dull and frustrating. Worst of all? It yielded almost nothing.
The Land of Waves was impoverished. Its people lived in the margins of survival, and whatever edible plants or wild animals once thrived in its forests had long since been harvested to extinction. For Konoha's shinobi to expect a share from these meager scraps was nothing short of wishful thinking.
"Let's go deeper." Zeri said, exhaling slowly, then his voice sharpened as he continued: "But stay alert."
To fulfill their mission objectives, they had no choice but to venture further into the heart of the forest—beyond the beaten trails, where untouched vegetation and some wildlife might still exist.
But with every step deeper into the woods, the risk grew.
The Land of Waves had become a silent battleground. Hidden Mist shinobi were rumored to be moving through the area, their presence invisible but hiding in shadows. It was a conflict of shadows—silent blades, unseen movements, quiet deaths.
Yet orders were orders. Hesitation had no place in a shinobi's heart.
Under Zeri's command, the trio pressed forward, their footsteps muffled by the thick moss carpeting the forest floor. Fog drifted through the undergrowth like creeping specters.
They began to find more as they advanced—patches of edible herbs, wild greens tucked beneath old stones and fallen trees. The occasional squirrel or hare darted through the bushes, too quick to be caught easily.
"Don't waste chakra on small ones." Zeri said in a serious voice: "We're not that desperate, not yet."
After checking the sky and judging that sunset was still a few hours away, Zeri made a bold suggestion.
"There's a high chance we'll find a large boar further in. If we take one down, it'll more than complete the mission—and it'll boost our evaluation score."
They didn't need to ask why that mattered.
Mission evaluations carried weight. Especially in wartime. Higher grades meant better assignments, more frequent deployments, and possibly—just possibly—the attention of the higher-ups. For a rookie team like theirs, this was more than just a mission. It was a chance to prove their worth.
Naturally, no one objected. Even Maemon, always composed and cautious, didn't hesitate. None of them were thrilled that their first official mission involved foraging like farmers. All of them wanted to show they could be more.
As for Renjiro? He followed orders, kept pace, and moved with quiet efficiency. But beneath the surface, half his mind was elsewhere—locked in conversation with Arkain, the chip embedded in his brain, pushing to accelerate his growth.
Arkain had been running simulations for hours, analyzing data, trying to help Renjiro master Lightning Style: Thunder Ball Jutsu.
Without a broader foundation in ninjutsu, Arkain's simulations had reached a critical impasse. Lacking sufficient ninjutsu knowledge, Arkain's analytical models could progress no further.
"Maybe I should ask Captain Zeri for advice…" Renjiro pondered silently, his eyes scanning the underbrush even as his mind raced with Arkain's fragmented data.
And then, at last—something shifted.
"Look there." Meri whispered, pointing toward a patch of dense green foliage.
A massive wild boar—easily over four hundred pounds—emerged into a small clearing, lazily rooting through the earth with its tusks.
Zeri's eyes gleamed. Opportunity had arrived.
He quickly signaled the team to regroup and spoke in a hushed, low voice: "You see that? If we bring that thing back to camp, we're looking at a top-tier evaluation. 'Excellent' or even 'Perfect.' Want that kind of result on your first mission?"
"Assign the plan already, Captain!" Meri replied, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"Good." Zeri smirked: "Renjiro, circle from the east. Maemon, take the west. Meri, cover the south. I'll strike from the north. The plan is to take it down in one hit. If it escapes, cut its path. Understood?"
"Understood!" The three answered at the same time.
"Move!"
Whoosh!
They scattered in perfect formation, moving like trained shadows between the trees. Zeri scaled a nearby tree, eyes locked on the clearing below. Once in position, he drew a kunai, took a breath—and launched himself into the air.
Skree-EEE!
The boar reacted instantly, squealing and turning to flee.
"Fast for its size..." Zeri thought: "But not fast enough."
With the grace of a seasoned shinobi, he landed directly on its back. In one swift motion, he brought his kunai down in a decisive, clean arc—slicing through its thick neck.
Splurt!
A jet of blood sprayed into the air. The creature let out a guttural death cry.
Then—something unexpected happened!
Zeri's triumphant expression faltered, replaced by sharp instinct.
His voice snapped like a whip as he shouted: "Enemy! Get back—NOW!"
He leapt backward with all the force he could muster.
Bang!
The "boar" exploded in a burst of white smoke.
Substitution Jutsu!
From the fading plume, a figure burst forward—a man clad in a Mist shinobi's attire, the Kirigakure forehead protector gleaming beneath the fading sunlight. A kunai glinted in his hand as he lunged toward Zeri.
"Damn it!" Zeri hissed, still mid-air. With no foothold and no time to counter, he did the only thing he could—crossed his arms over his chest, bracing to protect his vital organs.
Clang!
The kunai struck, metal scraping against his forearm guards.
The fight had begun—and this was no longer a mission about foraging.
---
Elsewhere in the forest, chaos erupted.
The moment Zeri's warning echoed through the trees, Renjiro and other two reacted instinctively—shifting positions just as they had been trained.
But it was already too late, the Mist-nin had been waiting.
This wasn't a spontaneous skirmish. It was an ambush—carefully laid for Konoha's newest recruits.
Whoosh!
Renjiro had just pivoted to reposition when he heard it—the sharp hiss of steel cutting through air.
[Warning: Incoming Threat Detected!]
Arkain's voice rang in his mind, sharp and mechanical.
Bang!
Renjiro didn't hesitate. He twisted his body on pure reflex, just barely dodging a kunai aimed cleanly for his neck. The blade grazed his shoulder and embedded into the bark behind him with a solid thunk.
His heart pounded. That had been too close, but that was only the beginning.
The forest around him stilled—and then a figure stepped from the shadows.
A Mist-nin, maybe sixteen or seventeen, emerged with a casual stride and a predator's grin. His forehead protector bore the blood-stained symbol of Kirigakure. His eyes sparkled with sadistic glee.
"Well, well… what do we have here?" He sneered and said licking his lips: "A fresh graduate from the Konoha Shinobi Academy. You got lucky, I'll give you that."
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles: "But luck won't save you next time."
His voice was soaked in confidence, and worse—excitement, bloodlust.
Renjiro's mouth went dry. His body trembled. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. His legs refused to respond. He couldn't move, and almost couldn't breathe.
"What… what do I do?" Renjiro started panicking.
"Oh. You're a real newbie, huh?" Mist-nin's smile stretched wider: "I love breaking the new ones."
He lunged once again towards Renjiro, smashing his fist sweftly at his face trying to knock out Renjiro with one move.
"Move! Move! I have to move!" Renjiro screamed the words inside his own brain, because he knew what was waiting for him if he didn't move.
Whoosh!
Somehow, his body obeyed. He leaned just enough to avoid the first punch—air split past his temple.
He didn't see the follow-up until it was too late—a spinning back kick drove straight into his ribs.
Thud—thud—CRACK—!
Branches snapped like brittle twigs as Renjiro was launched through the air. His back slammed into a thick tree trunk with a sickening crunch. He dropped to the ground like dead weight.
Gasp—!
Pain surged through his chest, blood filled his mouth, and his vision almost blurred.
"Ahm—!"
Renjiro let out a sharp, wet cough as pain exploded across his chest. Breathing was a struggle, and movement seemed impossible—not just from the broken ribs, but from the sheer paralyzing fear of death.
His thoughts blurred. His limbs felt like lead.
Above him, the Mist-nin landed gracefully on a nearby branch, eyeing him with cold amusement. To him, Renjiro was nothing more than a bleeding animal—prey, waiting to be slaughtered.
Renjiro lay motionless, every nerve screaming in agony. His vision flickered, on the verge of darkness. His consciousness teetered at the edge.
[Warning! Critical Survival Threshold Reached!]
[Initiating Bioelectric Surge! Override Mode Authorized!]
[Beep! Command Executed Automatically!]
Arkain's mechanical voice echoed in his mind, glitching like a broken interface.
Zzzzt—!
A jolt of electricity surged through Renjiro's nervous system. Every cell ignited with energy.
Suddenly, the pain dulled—muted, pushed to the edge of his awareness. His thoughts sharpened. His vision steadied. He could breathe again, even if it was barely.
"I'm going to die..." Renjiro realized, a cold clarity settling over him: "If this keeps up—I'll die right here… unless—"
His eyes snapped open just in time.
The Mist-nin was coming closer now, casually twirling a kunai between his fingers, with a smirk dancing on his lips.
Renjiro's body still refused to move, but in his mind he was screaming: "Arkain! Do something! I'm really going to die!"
At this moment Renjiro was completely panicked.
He had no strength left. The injury had drained nearly all his energy, leaving him helpless on the forest floor. All he could do was cry out to Arkain in his heart—a desperate plea to the only card he had left in his hand, his final hope for survival.
[Beep! Task Established. Analyzing Data… Simulation Complete.]
[Conclusion: Host exhibits superior mental processing capacity.]
[Auxiliary Module Available: Mental Overdrive.]
"Yes! Activate it—now!" Renjiro shouted in his mind, clinging to the last thread of hope.
[Beep! Executing… Mental Overdrive Module Initialized.]
Time did not stop, but it felt like it did from Renjiro's prospective.
To the outside world, nothing had changed—but from Renjiro's perspective, everything slowed. The sway of the trees, the drifting mist, even the Mist-nin's steps—all seemed to move at slow motion.
In truth, Renjiro hadn't slowed time, he had accelerated himself through Arkain.
The Mental Overdrive Module kicked his thought processing speed into levels far beyond any ordinary human. In this heightened state, the world appeared frozen—not because the world had changed, but because his mind had.
Even in the Shinobi World, no known jutsu could replicate this.
Renjiro's pupils dilated as he took in every detail—the twitch of the Mist-nin's wrist, the tightening of his grip on the kunai, the exact angle of approach everything was very slow and clear.