Naruto-ReBorn as a Baker

Chapter 220: A Sparring Chance

The early morning sun filtered into the training floor, casting long beams of light across the space as Ranke moved through her workout routine. The room, a mix of traditional and modern design, was lined with mats, weights, and wooden training dummies. Ranke's movements were sharp and precise, each strike and motion accentuating her toned, athletic form. Her violet eyes were focused, and her blonde, frilled hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, leaving stray strands to frame her determined face.

She wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just allowing the rhythm of her punches and kicks to guide her thoughts. Each impact she made reverberated through the room, her purple armor resting nearby as she opted for the freedom of a fitted workout outfit: a sleeveless top and tight leggings that hugged her athletic frame. Her large bosom moved in rhythm with her strikes, something she was used to ignoring but which others often failed to.

As Ranke wiped sweat from her brow and prepared for the next round of drills, the elevator at the far end of the room dinged open. She glanced over to see Malik stumbling in, his face flushed and his dark chocolate skin glistening with sweat. His usual perfectly put-together appearance was in shambles, and his disheveled state immediately caught her attention.

"What the hell happened to you?" Ranke called, smirking as Malik approached, panting and trying to catch his breath.

Malik gave her a wide grin, wiping his forehead with a towel he'd slung over his shoulder. "Good morning to you too, Ranke," he teased, his pink eyes glowing faintly even through his exhaustion. "If you must know, Kamira didn't let me sleep much last night… or this morning, for that matter. I barely escaped with my life."

Ranke's smirk widened, and she let out a short laugh. "She didn't kill you, huh? Guess you're tougher than you look."

"Only barely," Malik quipped, straightening up. With a dramatic wave of his hand and a puff of shimmering pink smoke, his attire transformed into a matching workout outfit. The snug, stretchy material made his short, round figure all the more amusing against the backdrop of the spacious training floor.

Ranke crossed her arms, an amused eyebrow raised. "You look ridiculous," she remarked, but her tone carried a hint of playfulness.

"Ridiculously handsome," Malik shot back, striking a pose before grinning at her. "Now, don't mind me. I just came to… observe. Watch a master at work."

Ranke rolled her eyes but turned back to her training, throwing a series of quick punches at a dummy. Malik, meanwhile, leaned casually against a nearby wall, his gaze shamelessly following the sway of her hips and the bounce of her ample chest. His thoughts briefly wandered to a mental comparison of the three knights and their "assets," but he quickly shook the idea from his mind with a sheepish chuckle.

An idea struck Malik as he watched Ranke. He straightened up and clapped his hands. "Hey, Ranke," he called, stepping closer. "How about a little sparring? Show me what you've got."

Ranke paused mid-strike, turning to him with an incredulous look. "You? Sparring? You're not serious."

"I am!" Malik said, puffing out his chest dramatically. "I know I'm not much of a fighter, but I'd love to learn from someone as sharp as you. Think you could go easy on me, like last time?"

Ranke snorted. "Last time, you ran away the whole time. That wasn't sparring; that was me chasing a rabbit."

Malik grinned. "Exactly. And you'll never catch me this time, either."

They squared off on the training mat, and the moment Ranke lunged at him, Malik darted away, his smaller frame surprisingly quick and agile. He laughed as she spun around to follow, her frustration mounting as he skillfully avoided her attempts to grab him.

"Stop running and fight me!" Ranke growled, her competitive spirit igniting.

"But I'm so good at running!" Malik teased, dodging a swipe and weaving around a punching bag. "Besides, isn't this fun?"

Ranke's light-violet eyes narrowed, her pride and temper flaring. "You're dead meat, Malik!" she shouted, lunging after him with renewed vigor.

Malik turned the chase into a game, zigzagging across the gym and even leaping over a bench at one point. Ranke, determined not to let him get the better of her, finally outmaneuvered him, cutting off his path and tackling him to the ground.

Malik landed with a soft "oof," his back hitting the mat as Ranke straddled him, her hands pressing down on his shoulders to keep him pinned. She glared down at him, her blonde hair falling slightly into her face.

"Gotcha," she said smugly, her breath coming fast from the chase.

Malik, pinned but not defeated, grinned up at her. "You're amazing, Ranke," he said sincerely, his pink eyes twinkling. "Strong, fast, and strategic. I'm lucky to even keep up with you."

Ranke blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the genuine compliment. But her smirk quickly returned. "Damn right you are," she replied, though her tone softened slightly.

Malik tilted his head, his grin turning mischievous. "So… do I get a reward for making you work so hard? Maybe a kiss for your favorite sparring partner?"

Ranke's smirk turned wicked as an idea struck her. "Oh, you want a kiss, huh?" she said, leaning down closer to him.

Malik puckered his lips dramatically, only for Ranke's expression to darken with playful malice. "Sure thing, handsome."

She kissed him quickly on the lips, but before Malik could savor the moment, a jolt of electricity surged through his body.

"AHHH!" Malik yelped as the shocking sensation lit up his nerves.

Ranke pulled back, laughing uncontrollably as Malik squirmed beneath her. "What's the matter? You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?"

Malik groaned, his body still tingling. "You're evil," he muttered, though the faint smile on his face betrayed his amusement.

"And don't you forget it," Ranke replied, finally letting him up.

As Malik sat up, still catching his breath, he looked at her with a mixture of admiration and exasperation. "You're one of a kind, Ranke."

"Damn right I am," she said, tossing him a towel. "Now, get ready. Tomorrow, you're going to need more than running to keep up with me."

Malik grinned, already looking forward to their next sparring session. "I'll bring my A-game," he promised.

Malik sat on the mat, still feeling the faint tingling in his body from the playful shock Ranke had sent through him. As he watched her grab a towel and begin wiping the sweat off her neck and arms, his pink eyes couldn't help but linger on her. Ranke made no effort to hide her body, her tight workout outfit clinging to her athletic figure. She seemed to take pride in her form, her movements deliberate and confident, the slight sway of her hips daring Malik to keep watching.

He grinned, appreciating the view. "You know, Ranke," he began, leaning back on his hands, "that kiss was nice and all, but I could've done without the electricity."

Ranke smirked, throwing the towel over her shoulder. "Oh, you mean this?" she said, turning sharply and pointing a finger at him. A small bolt of electricity zapped from her fingertip, jolting Malik's already sensitive nerves.

"AHH—okay, okay, I deserved that!" he yelped, holding up his hands in surrender.

Ranke laughed, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. "Happy now?" she teased, hands on her hips.

Malik groaned, still smiling despite the sting. "Much better with the kiss," he replied cheekily.

Ranke rolled her eyes, tossing the towel at his face. "Then don't complain," she retorted, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Malik stood up, brushing himself off as he approached her. Ranke crossed her arms, watching him with a raised eyebrow. He decided it was time to shift gears, his tone softening but retaining its playful edge.

"You know, Ranke," he started, leaning casually against a nearby bench, "you're one of the most intimidating people in this fortress. But at the same time, you're probably the most fascinating. So, how about letting me in on what makes you tick?"

Ranke snorted, shaking her head. "What makes me tick? You mean besides chasing you around the gym and shocking you when you get mouthy?"

"Exactly," Malik said with a grin. "There's got to be more to you than lightning bolts and snark. And I'd like to know what that is."

Her smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. Malik noticed it immediately—there was something beneath the bravado, a weight she rarely let anyone see. He stepped closer, his tone gentler now.

"Come on, Ranke. Sit down for a minute," he said, gesturing to the bench. "Let's talk."

She hesitated but eventually relented, sitting down with a sigh. "Fine. But if this is some trick to get another kiss, it's not going to work."

Malik laughed, kneeling in front of her. "Not a trick. Just me being honest." He reached for her foot, giving her an impish look. "And offering you the best foot massage you'll ever have."

Ranke blinked, genuinely surprised. "A foot massage? You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Malik said, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine," she muttered, kicking off her shoes. "But if this sucks, I'm shocking you again."

Malik chuckled as he took her foot in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle. Ranke let out a small, involuntary sigh as his fingers worked over the arch of her foot, easing tension she hadn't even realized was there.

"So," Malik prompted, his tone casual, "what was life like for you before Haido?"

Ranke's expression shifted, her smirk fading into something more reflective. She leaned back slightly, her violet eyes staring at the ceiling. "Before Haido, I was just… surviving," she began. "I grew up in a village where strength was everything. If you couldn't fight, you didn't matter. And if you couldn't win, you were as good as dead."

Malik nodded, his hands still working their magic. "Sounds rough. How'd you make it out?"

Ranke hesitated, her voice quieter now. "I didn't at first. I lost a lot. My pride, my home… people I cared about." She clenched her fists briefly, then let out a breath. "Haido found me when I had nothing left. He gave me purpose, power. A chance to never feel weak again."

Malik looked up at her, his expression thoughtful. "And you're strong now. But strength isn't just about fighting, you know."

Ranke's gaze flicked to him, her lips curving into a small, wry smile. "Oh, yeah? What else is it about, wise guy?"

"It's about knowing when to let people in," Malik said simply.

She stared at him for a moment, her usual sharp retort absent. Instead, she shifted slightly, her expression softening. "You're a strange one, Malik," she said finally. "But… maybe you're not completely full of crap."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Malik replied with a grin.

As the massage continued, Ranke found herself relaxing more than she thought possible. Malik's touch was skillful, his presence oddly comforting. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could let her guard down, even if just a little.

Malik's skilled hands move over Ranke's damp, sinewy feet, his fingers tracing the contours of her arches with gentle pressure. Each touch seems to ignite a spark of warmth and connection between them, making the tension in the air thicken with anticipation.

Ranke's breath hitches as Malik's fingers delicately knead the soles of her feet, easing the tension that has built up from days of rigorous training. Her eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the soothing sensation coursing through her body. "You have such talented hands," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

Malik smiles, his gaze never leaving her feet as he continues to work his magic. "I aim to please."

Malik's eyes trace the contours of Ranke's form, appreciating the strength and grace that define her. Her violet eyes, usually filled with intensity, now soften with a rare vulnerability as she surrenders to the soothing touch of his hands. The sleeveless top she wears accentuates her broad shoulders and powerful arms, while the tight leggings highlight the toned muscles of her legs.

His gaze lingers on her chest, the large breasts straining against the fitted fabric of her top. Despite the allure, Malik's focus remains on providing her with the utmost care and relaxation. His fingers move with practiced ease, each stroke designed to alleviate the tension that has built up in her body.

Ranke's breath comes in soft gasps as Malik's hands continue their gentle exploration. Malik, ever the master of balancing the gentleman and the rogue, expertly spreads Ranke's legs just a bit, exposing a hint of her cameltoe. His gaze briefly lingers there before shifting back to her face. He takes care to ensure she is comfortable with his actions, not wishing to disrupt the intimacy they have cultivated through his skillful ministrations.

With a delicate touch, Malik adjusts his hold on her feet, applying pressure to the soft areas between her toes that sends waves of pleasure cascading through her. The room is filled with a serene silence as both of them become engrossed in the soothing rhythm of the foot massage.

"Is that too much?" Malik whispers, concern evident in his tone as he meets Ranke's gaze. Despite the suggestive position he's put her in, his utmost goal remains to ensure her comfort. Ranke's eyes flutter open, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she looks into Malik's concerned eyes. "No, it's perfect," she replies softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy between them deepens, her body responding to his tender touch.

Malik's hands continue their journey, exploring the intricate terrain of Ranke's feet with an almost reverent care. Each movement is met with a subtle sigh of relief from her, indicating the tension melting away under his skilled manipulation. The rhythmic motions of his fingers and the gentle strokes on her soles create a tranquil ambiance in the room, further enhancing the connection between them.

Malik's hands continue their journey, the rhythmic motions of his fingers and the gentle strokes on Ranke's soles creating a tranquil ambiance in the room. However, as he adjusts her legs slightly to ease the tension in her muscles, his gaze drifts up, taking in the intimate details of her body.

The fitted leggings accentuate the contours of her thighs, and as he spreads her legs a little wider, he catches a glimpse of her private outline. The sight sends a surge of desire through him, but he quickly refocuses on the task at hand, ensuring that his actions remain gentle and soothing.

Ranke's breath quickens as she notices the subtle shift in Malik's gaze. Despite the slight embarrassment, she finds herself entranced by the intensity of his eyes and the unspoken understanding that passes between them.

As Malik's gaze settles on the tantalizing outline of Ranke's pussy, her breath hitches once more. She finds herself unexpectedly aroused by the combination of his skilled touch and the intentional way he is holding her legs.

Ranke's heart pounds in her chest as she allows him to continue his intimate perusal, her body responding instinctively to his gaze. A soft, almost imperceptible moan escapes her lips as Malik's fingers resume their exploration, now with a deeper, more deliberate intensity.

The ambiance in the room deepens, the lighting casting a warm glow and highlighting the momentary vulnerability on Ranke's face. Despite the intimacy, Malik remains respectful and attentive, always ensuring that she feels comfortable and cared for.

When Malik finally let go of her foot and stood, Ranke looked up at him with a smirk. "You're lucky that didn't suck," she said, standing up and stretching.

"Come on, Ranke," Malik said, his grin mischievous. "Admit it—I'm growing on you."

She rolled her eyes, but the faint blush on her cheeks didn't go unnoticed. "Don't push your luck, shorty."

Malik laughed, stepping back as she reached for her shoes. "I'll take that as a yes."

As they left the gym together, Malik couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Ranke might not have been an open book, but this was a start—a glimpse of the person beneath the armor. And for now, that was enough.

Malik followed Ranke through the fortress's winding corridors, taking deliberate care to stay just far enough behind her to admire the view. Her confident stride, accentuated by the sway of her hips and the occasional flick of her blonde hair, was mesmerizing. Ranke seemed perfectly aware of his gaze, her posture proud, yet she didn't say anything, allowing him to silently enjoy the moment. Malik couldn't help but wonder if she was secretly enjoying the attention.

As they reached the stairs leading to her floor, Ranke glanced over her shoulder. "You're awfully quiet back there, Malik," she teased. "Don't tell me I've left you speechless already."

"Speechless? No," Malik replied, grinning. "Just appreciating the artistry."

Ranke snorted, shaking her head as she began to ascend. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or I'd shock you again."

Malik chuckled, trailing after her. As they arrived on the floor where the knights stayed, he noticed how similar it was to Kamira's area—marble floors polished to a mirror shine, intricate tapestries lining the walls, and soft electric lighting casting a faint golden glow.

"This is our floor," Ranke said casually. "Me, Kamira, and Fugai all stay here. You know, in case Haido needs us."

"Convenient," Malik said, noting the proximity of the rooms. His eyes lingered briefly on Kamira's door as they passed it, a small smile playing on his lips as he remembered the previous night. . . and morning.

When they reached Ranke's room, Malik stopped a respectful distance from the door as she turned to face him. Her violet eyes glimmered with something unspoken, as if she were debating whether to say or do something. Malik, ever the opportunist, winked at her, leaning casually against the wall.

"I'll leave you to it for now," he said smoothly. "See you later, Ranke."

She rolled her eyes, her smirk returning. "Sure, if Kamira hasn't swallowed you whole by then," she quipped before turning to open her door.

As Ranke stepped into her room, Malik turned to head back down the hallway. He barely took two steps before he heard the soft creak of a door opening behind him. Before he could react, a familiar hand, delicate yet firm, grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the doorway.

"Whoa—!" Malik yelped, stumbling into Kamira's room. The door shut swiftly behind him, and as he turned, he found himself face-to-face with Kamira, draped in nothing but a sheer, almost transparent bedsheet. Her blonde hair was slightly mussed, her reddish eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger.

"Kamira," Malik said with mock sternness, "you're supposed to give me some time to recover, remember? {not that i need it}"

Kamira smirked, pressing a finger to his lips. "And waste another moment waiting for Ranke to finish boring you to death? I don't think so." She tugged him deeper into the room, the bedsheet clinging to her body in a way that left very little to the imagination.

Malik allowed himself to be pulled along, his heart racing—not just from her boldness but also from the way she seemed to effortlessly dominate the space around her. Her room, bathed in soft, golden light, felt warmer than the others he'd been in, even if it was so empty, the bed adorned with plush pillows and luxurious silken sheets.

As they reached the edge of the bed, Kamira turned to him, the playful gleam in her eyes softening slightly. "So," she purred, "how's it going with Ranke?"

Malik leaned against one of the bedposts, crossing his arms with a wry smile. "She's… an interesting challenge," he admitted. "But you didn't exactly give me much time to make progress."

Kamira shrugged, letting the sheet slip just slightly lower. "You're lucky I gave you any time at all. And besides," she said, stepping closer and running a finger down his chest, "it's my turn again. Ranke can have you later—when I'm done." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And right now, I'm far from done."

Before Malik could respond, Kamira wrapped the sheet around both of them, pulling him into a deep, heated kiss. Her lips were soft but insistent, her hands weaving through his hair as she pressed her body against his. Malik, momentarily overwhelmed, let himself be swept up in her intensity, his hands finding her waist as they melted into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, Kamira smirked at the dazed look on his face. "Still standing?" she teased, her tone laced with amusement. "I must be losing my touch."

Malik chuckled, regaining his composure. "Not at all. You're just… very persuasive."

Kamira pushed him gently onto the bed, the playful dominance in her demeanor unmistakable. "Good. Then stop wasting time with compliments and focus on me."

Back in the hallway, Ranke paused as she thought she heard the faint sound of a door shutting. She glanced over her shoulder, frowning slightly. "What was that?" she muttered to herself.

For a moment, she considered investigating, but the idea of Kamira dragging Malik back into her room crossed her mind, and she rolled her eyes. "Figures," she said, shaking her head. "She's like a lioness with a fresh kill."

With a shrug, Ranke dismissed the thought, deciding she didn't care enough to interrupt. "He'll need all the energy he can get for later," she muttered, stepping fully into her room and closing the door behind her.

As the morning sun began to rise higher, Malik found himself once again tangled in Kamira's sheets, her head resting on his chest as she traced lazy circles on his skin. He sighed contentedly, his fingers brushing through her golden hair.

"You know," he said, breaking the comfortable silence, "Ranke's not going to be happy if she finds out you've been monopolizing me."

Kamira smirked, her eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him. "Let her be unhappy," she murmured. "I'm not done with you yet. And besides," she added, her voice taking on a possessive edge, "you're mine for now. She can wait her turn."

Malik chuckled, shaking his head. "You're something else, Kamira."

"And don't you forget it," she replied, pulling him into another kiss.