The Hakimaster of Naruto Chapter 92: The Cave and the Kusanagi

Uchiha Mikoto?

The na echoed in Ragnar's mind, clashing with the image of the fierce, masked ANBU operative 'Tengu' he'd known. It was… unexpected. In his old-world mories, the na Mikoto was associated with a gentle, maternal figure, Itachi and Sasuke's mother, a victim of the clan's tragic end. To see it attached to this capable, Sharingan-wielding warrior was a dissonant twist of fate.

"What's wrong?" Mikoto asked, her sharp Uchiha eyes—even without the active Sharingan—catching the subtle shift in his posture, the fleeting emotional spike he couldn't completely suppress. "You seem like you have sothing to say."

To her, 'Rakshasa' was an enigma: cold, brutally efficient, and emotionally closed-off. That brief flicker of… recognition? surprise?… was noteworthy.

"Nothing," Ragnar replied, his voice flattening back to its usual neutrality. He offered no explanation, simply giving her one more assessing look before turning his attention to the spoils. He unsealed a storage scroll from his pouch, efficiently sealing both the newly acquired Kusanagi Sword and Yama within it before stowing it away. The pragmatic action spoke louder than words.

"I thought you'd ask," Mikoto continued, her tone asured. "Ask how an Uchiha could be in ANBU, and why I haven't tried to kill you for what you did to mbers of my clan."

Ragnar shrugged, the gesture barely visible under his cloak. "It's irrelevant. In this world, if you raise a blade with intent to kill, you must be equally prepared to be killed by it."

"As cold as ever," Mikoto murmured, a hint of sothing like resignation in her voice. "And younger than , too."

"But I saved you," Ragnar pointed out, the Rakshasa mask turning to face her directly.

Mikoto was silent for a beat. The two tomoe in her eyes had faded completely. "You did," she acknowledged. "Not all Uchiha are like Clan Head Tateyama's faction. My grandfather, Uchiha Kagami, was a disciple of the Second Hokage. He always stood with the Hokage's will, working to maintain the bond between the clan and the village. It's because of his legacy that I joined ANBU, not Root."

Uchiha Kagami. The na fit the tiline—a contemporary of Hiruzen and Danzo. A moderate voice.

"The ones you've clashed with are Tateyama's people," Mikoto pressed on, perhaps feeling a need to explain her clan, to separate herself from the vendetta. "Many of us just want peace. But our history… our emotional nature… it's complicated things."

"You don't need to justify anything to ," Ragnar cut her off, his tone dismissive. "It changes nothing." He finished securing his gear, his posture indicating he was ready to move.

Seeing him prepare to leave, Mikoto hesitated, then spoke quickly. "Can I… accompany you? Rakshasa?"

Ragnar glanced at her. She was injured, alone in hostile territory. It was a tactical liability, but also the pragmatic choice for survival. "Suit yourself."

Without another word, he turned and began moving through the rain-soaked forest, a shadow among shadows. Mikoto, relieved, matched his pace as best she could, her movents slightly stiff from her wounds. In the deadly calculus of the warzone, sticking close to overwhelming strength was the only smart play.

They were gone re minutes before another group arrived.

Chiyo of Sunagakure and her team erged from the trees, their senses alert. "Lady Chiyo, signs of combat ahead," a Suna ANBU reported, gesturing to the churned earth and lingering chakra signatures.

"Investigate," Chiyo ordered, her voice tight.

When they found the body of Jiro of the Kunomiya Clan, Chiyo's composure shattered. Her face paled, then flushed with rage. "Impossible! Jiro… a Special Jonin, with the Kusanagi Sword… how?!"

"A single, clean slash to the throat, Lady Chiyo," the ANBU confird, his voice grim.

"One slash… ONE SLASH!" Chiyo's scream of fury tore through the forest, a raw sound of grief and wrath. Jiro was a prodigy, a future pillar of Suna. "WHO DID THIS?!"

It took her several minutes to regain a semblance of control, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "Jiro was among our best swordsn. To kill him like this… the perpetrator must be a master. Hatake Sakumo? No… it doesn't fit." Her eyes, sharp and ancient, scanned the scene. "The Kusanagi Sword. Where is it?"

The ANBU operative lowered his head. "Gone, my lady."

Chiyo's expression turned thunderous, her hands clenching into fists so tight her knuckles whitened. "Track the sword's unique chakra signature. Once located, mobilize all available Suna forces in the sector. We will have vengeance. Jiro will not be just another na on a morial stone."

"Yes, Lady Chiyo!" the squad chorused, their voices heavy with solemn duty.

Ragnar and Mikoto reached the hidden cave swiftly. At the entrance, Ragnar's Shadow Clone gave a curt nod before dispelling itself in a puff of smoke, its mories—of quiet vigilance—rging with his own.

"Tengu, wait here," Ragnar instructed Mikoto. "I'll check inside."

Mikoto rely nodded, leaning against a tree to catch her breath.

Ragnar ducked under the vine curtain and stepped into the cave.

"WHO TOLD YOU TO CO IN, YOU BRAT?!"

The roar that greeted him was pure, incandescent fury. Tsunade stood in the flickering light of a small, contained golden fla Ragnar had left for warmth. She was clutching a hastily gathered cloak to her chest, her face a brilliant scarlet. Her hair was disheveled, and a terrifying, palpable aura of wrath radiated from her.

Ragnar froze. In his rush from the battle and the ntal strain of Future Sight, he'd completely forgotten the state he'd left her in. The image that had seared itself into his mind in the split second before her turn—the curve of her back in the firelight, the process of tending her wounds—was one of vulnerable, unintended intimacy.

He stood there, montarily numb. "I said it was an accident… Sister Tsunade… would you believe ?"

His words were t with a glare that promised dismbernt. Tsunade had assud, after so long, he'd have the sense to announce himself. The sudden intrusion, the glimpse he'd undoubtedly gotten… it was a catastrophe of embarrassnt and violated privacy.

"You're still LOOKING!" Tsunade seethed, mortification warring with rage.

"I'm not!" Ragnar retorted on instinct, his survival reflexes kicking in. He swiftly unclasped his own dark ANBU cloak and threw it toward her without looking.

Tsunade snatched it from the air, wrapping it tightly around herself, cocooning her form. As she did, he could see the telltale green glow of chakra gathering around her other fist—the prelude to a punch that could rearrange mountains.

"Sister, don't exert yourself! Your wounds will reopen!" Ragnar backpedaled toward the cave entrance, hands raised in a placating gesture. He had no desire to join Jiraiya in the hall of fa of those nearly killed by an enraged Tsunade.

(End of Chapter)

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