The arrival of Uchiha Mikoto in his camp tent caught Ragnar off guard.
"How did you co?" His voice erged softer than intended—weaker. The exhaustion was evident despite his attempts to mask it.
Uchiha Mikoto's response was a gentle smile—rare and full of healing warmth. She raised her arms, revealing an exquisite porcelain bowl. Steam rose from it, carrying an aroma that filled the tent.
Grrr.
Ragnar's stomach growled uncontrollably before he could stop it.
"The camp food isn't as good as Konoha's," Mikoto said softly, approaching his bedside. "So I made you so ran. I thought you might be hungry when you woke up."
Ragnar stared at her, his expression unchanged.
But sothing about this scene felt... familiar. Disturbingly familiar.
Man lying weak in bed, unable to move.
Woman smiling sweetly, feeding him a bowl of steaming soup.
Wasn't this the plot of that old story? The one about the poisoned wife and the unsuspecting husband?
The scene he was experiencing now paralleled that tale uncomfortably closely.
Ragnar's mind worked quickly—perhaps too quickly, perhaps paranoidly. But in this world of intrigue and betrayal, one couldn't survive without foresight.
Yes, he had saved Uchiha Mikoto's life. But was their relationship close enough for her to personally care for him? To cook him fragrant ran with her own hands?
Anyone else would see a beautiful, gentle girl offering delicious food and be completely moved. They'd accept the "noodles full of love" without hesitation—and then die with eyes wide open.
Ragnar's suspicion wasn't baseless. His relationship with the Uchiha clan had never been good.
Though Mikoto ca from Kagami's lineage—the Hokage-aligned branch—things could change. People could be turned.
Taking advantage of his weakness... this could be an assassination attempt.
The more he considered it, the more Ragnar constructed an extrely dark scenario in his mind.
When he looked at Mikoto now, that invisible attraction, that tempting bowl of ran—none of it seed beautiful anymore.
I hope I'm wrong.
"Thank you," Ragnar said coldly. "You can leave it there."
"Mm."
Mikoto, familiar with his cold personality, thought nothing of it. She gently placed the ran on the nearby table.
From the corner of his eye, Ragnar could see it clearly. The noodles were crystal clear, full of resilience. The broth was bright and dazzling. One glance made saliva pool in his mouth. And the two eggs floating on top—they were practically magical.
The alluring fragrance stimulated him rcilessly. He suddenly felt even weaker—this was a ntal attack on his weakened state.
Silence filled the tent.
"Ragnar-kun," Mikoto's voice broke through again, "can you not move?"
...Obviously.
It wasn't that he couldn't move—it was that moving caused pain throughout his entire body. The human spirit was inert; given the choice, one naturally minimized movent. So Ragnar simply lay there.
"No." His reply was flat, and he continued lying motionless.
Mikoto looked at him. He stared blankly back.
Don't et her eyes. Don't give anything away.
"How about I feed you?" After a few seconds, Mikoto spoke tentatively. But a flash of cunning crossed her dark eyes.
With her Sharingan's perception, how could she not see Ragnar's actual physical condition?
"No need."
"You should go."
"I'll rest."
Ragnar's cold refusals ca rapid-fire.
Disappointnt flickered in Mikoto's eyes.
"Then... rest well, Ragnar-kun."
She turned and walked out, her departure carrying a hint of sadness.
In this worldview, in this era, the concept of male superiority and female inferiority still held sway. Even ninja generally adhered to these social rules.
In Uchiha Mikoto's eyes and heart, Ragnar was Konoha's hero. ANBU Rakshasa. A legend on the sa level as the ANBU Captain White Fang.
She admired him from the bottom of her heart. Perhaps other emotions mingled with that admiration as well.
She was young. At the age of longing and imagination.
She admired Ragnar. So she naturally respected his words. Combined with the social norms she'd internalized, she could only leave alone when dismissed.
Her simple departure surprised Ragnar.
If this woman had any designs on , she'd try harder to stay. She'd push to carry out her mission.
But she left. Just... left.
Ragnar felt nothing special about it. He was, after all, a killer who didn't blink at death.
Phew.
Mikoto was gone. But that tempting bowl of ran remained—taunting his stomach, challenging his nerves.
"Wow! So fragrant!"
The little slug suddenly woke from its sleep. In a flash, it had leaped onto the table beside the ran. Without hesitation, it took a sip.
"Wait—wait a mont!" Ragnar tried to stop it, but the fat slug was surprisingly fast.
Despite its small size, the little slug sucked up the entire bowl of ran in one gulp. It devoured both eggs with extre cruelty. It even licked the remaining broth clean.
"It's... all gone?" Even Ragnar's sharp mind could only generate a hundred thousand silent curses.
This must be a slug, not a pig!
"I'm sorry, Lord Ragnar." The little slug looked sheepish. "I was really hungry."
It twisted its plump body, preparing to crawl slowly away—nowhere near its pre-noodle speed.
Then—
THUD.
The little slug suddenly collapsed to the ground. Motionless.
"...?"
"This is... poison?"
"The noodles were really poisoned?"
"Slug! What's wrong?!" Ragnar's voice held shock—and sothing else.
Why aren't I sad? Why do I kind of want to laugh?
The greedy slug had poisoned itself trying to steal his food. Served it right.
But the implications were serious. The Uchiha really had tried to murder him. They'd sent Mikoto specifically—using her as a poisoner.
Fortunately, he'd been cautious. Too bad about the little slug.
"Oof!"
The little slug suddenly stirred. It crawled back upright.
"Alive again?" Ragnar couldn't help asking. "What just happened?"
"Lord Ragnar..." The little slug looked embarrassed. "I ate too fast. My digestive tract got blocked. I almost died. I just secreted so acid to speed up digestion."
"..."
Ragnar stared at the creature.
I need to find Jiraiya. I need him to summon a giant toad. Right now.
(End of Chapter)
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