The thrill of the match belonged to the spectators; for Ren, their fervor was merely ambient noise. With no further challengers stepping forward, he internally lamented a missed opportunity to potentially trigger another system mission.
He reasoned the system likely wouldn't keep doling out simple "Challenge Missions" indefinitely. The concept of a 'challenge' implied a certain parity; if the power gap grew too vast, it probably wouldn't register. Someone too weak issuing a challenge likely wouldn't spark the system's interest.
Why did he think this? Ren credited his extensive, if frivolous, literary research from his past life. The tropes were universal: an initial period of relatively easy missions to establish a foundation, followed by a steep ramp in difficulty. Growth always came with a price. Even an interdimensional system, he suspected, might not be immune to narrative conventions.
'Then again... the system is highly abstract. Treating the Naruto world as the Bleach world is a fundamental category error. Maybe the usual tropes don't apply...'
The system's very premise was unorthodox. This left room for... experimentation. There was no harm in trying to probe its boundaries. Attempting to exploit a potential bug cost nothing but a little time and creativity.
His gaze settled on the girl beside him. An idea, both simple and devious, took shape.
"Kurenai," he began, his voice adopting a coaxing, sugary tone. "How about you challenge me to a spar? I'll treat you to dango after school—double servings!"
"Challenge you?" Kurenai Yuhi's large, observant eyes narrowed with immediate suspicion. Her guard visibly went up. "What are you plotting now? Are you still hung up on not making me cry last time? You're so mean!"
Lately, Ren had been prone to these inexplicable, sudden whims. While she was growing accustomed to his occasional eccentricities—geniuses were, after all, famously peculiar—this felt targeted. He'd even mentioned suffering from some kind of "obsessive-compulsive disorder," where unfinished business plagued his mind. She had solid, sisterly grounds to suspect he was still fixated on that unfulfilled tearful victory. Of course she was wary!
Ren: "..."
What bizarre rabbit hole had her thoughts tumbled down? He felt a profound sense of misunderstanding. Making Kurenai cry was the furthest thing from his current, profit-driven mind.
He reached out and ruffled her hair—it was pleasantly soft—adopting the benign smile of a doting older brother. "What are you talking about? Why would I want to make my adorable little sister cry? I should be spoiling you!"
"Urk…" Kurenai shuddered, instinctively taking a full step backward. Her wariness intensified. "Ren, be normal! You're seriously creeping me out!"
This was a judgment based on deep-seated familiarity. Ren's 'kind brother' act was a giant red flag. He was definitely, unquestionably, up to no good.
Ren: "…"
Was the full-step retreat really necessary?
"Come on, just… let me see… I mean, just challenge me!" he fumbled, his smooth-talking facade cracking.
"No way!"
Sighing, Ren switched tactics from coercion to bribery. "I promise I won't make you cry. I'll even give you pocket money. You know I'm loaded now."
Kurenai shook her head with the vigor of a metronome. "No! Absolutely not! You're planning something shady. I'm not stupid; I won't fall for it!"
For good measure, she stuck out her tongue.
"Nyah, nyah, nyah!"
Having delivered her final rebuttal, she promptly scurried away to seek sanctuary with Rin Nohara. In recent days, thanks to Rin's frequent academic consultations with Ren, the two girls had grown closer.
"How did she get so sharp? She was so much easier to trick before," Ren muttered to himself, a pang of nostalgic regret in his voice. "She was cutelier when she was littler."
People changed, it was true. In just a few months, Kurenai Yuhi had evolved from a gullible child into a perceptive, suspicious little sister. His plans foiled, Ren prepared to abandon this line of inquiry.
Then, fate—or rather, overwhelming passion—intervened.
"REN! I HEARD YOUR CONVERSATION WITH KURENAI!"
The booming, exuberant voice belonged to none other than Might Guy, who materialized before Ren as if summoned by the concept of rivalry itself. He struck his signature pose—a gleaming thumbs-up posed beside his even brighter, toothy grin. "THIS IS THE TRUE ESSENCE OF YOUTH! You wish to test your strength in a spar, correct? Then allow me, MIGHT GUY, to be your challenger!"
"..." Ren needed a moment to process the sheer, unadulterated energy radiating from the boy in green. The abstract enthusiasm was still something he was acclimating to.
But here was a volunteer test subject, delivered right to his doorstep. This was excellent! Worthy of a thumbs-up in return!
He fell back on a familiar, reliable script.
"I am, in fact, quite interested in the Might clan's renowned taijutsu lineage… the Eight…" He caught himself just in time, smoothly transitioning. "Besides, you present a significant challenge. I don't intend to lose to anyone!"
The term Eight Gates had almost slipped out. Hatake kenjutsu was one thing—plausibly deduced. The secret techniques of a smaller clan like the Might were another matter entirely. He couldn't afford such a slip.
"OHH! MY BLOOD IS BOILING!" Might Guy roared, flames of passion seemingly igniting around him. The words sounded vaguely familiar, but in his fired-up state, he couldn't be bothered to recall where. He simply accepted them as Ren's formal acknowledgment of him as a "worthy rival"!
This was youth! His spirit blazed hotter. "THEN LET US ENGAGE IN A YOUTHFUL, PASSIONATE SPARRING MATCH!"
Nearby, Kakashi Hatake, who had overheard the entire exchange, let out a silent, weary sigh.
"..."
He knew that line. Word for word. He'd been on the receiving end of it not long ago. So it was just a canned phrase Ren deployed strategically. And he'd actually taken it seriously at the time. This guy, Ren… was truly something else.
"Alright. I accept your challenge," Ren stated, his tone calm and measured, refusing to match Guy's level of abstract fervor. He might be opportunistic, but he had his dignity.
Internally, he was already pinging the system. 'Little Ai! Someone's challenging me! Time to generate a mission, don't you think?'
Silence.
'System?'
[Ding. This System is operational.]
'…Shouldn't there be a mission? I've been challenged.'
[Ding. This System does not possess the functionality to actively generate missions for the Host. Mission issuance is automatically triggered based on the Host's circumstances and environmental factors, containing an element of inherent randomness.]
'Who are you trying to fool? You're the one handing out the missions!'
[Ding. This System exists solely to assist the Host in attaining the station of Spirit King. It does not possess deceptive functionalities. Please understand, Host.]
"..."
Ren felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment for his own accessory. Other transmigrators received systems with generous novice packages that set them on a path to domination. His system, when asked for a simple mission, played dumb. Did it even want to cultivate a Spirit King?
Just leave the group chat already, he thought with mild irritation. But beggars couldn't be choosers. Having a system, even a reluctant one, was better than having none—as long as it didn't start assigning him truly suicidal tasks.
Shaking off his internal grumbling, Ren refocused on the imminent spar with Might Guy. A promise was a promise. More importantly, he was acutely aware of his own deficiency: combat experience. Theory and raw power meant little without practical application. Sparring was the fastest way to bridge that gap.
Furthermore, fostering a good relationship with "Taijutsu god" Might Guy had its long-term benefits.
Who wouldn't covet the legendary Eight Gates technique?
The man had nearly kicked the plot into a premature finale!
The power it offered was staggering. Excluding the rather significant side effect of certain death upon opening the final gate, it was practically a divine artifact for power escalation. Ren would be lying if he said he wasn't interested.
If he could learn it, it would become another vital trump card. And in the looming meat grinder of the Third Great Shinobi War—a conflict where even Kage-level figures could perish—having an extra, devastating ace up his sleeve was not a matter of greed, but of survival. He dared not be careless in the slightest.