The battle for the Shibuki ended much faster than anyone had expected. Mizushiro, the favored contender, displayed power fully befitting of his reputation. Though all nine of the remaining jōnin stepped forward to challenge him one after another, each was crushed in turn.
Yes—
Crushed, not simply defeated.
This jōnin named Mizushiro unleashed an exquisitely refined Earth Release technique, scattering chakra as though it cost him nothing. Those who faced him could barely muster any resistance before being sent straight to the medical ward—every single one of them.
"Mei," Kyoichi narrowed his eyes, studying the young man who was now taking the Shibuki down from the wall. "Could it be… that this Mizushiro also carries the blood of the Uzumaki clan?"
"I have no idea," replied Terumī Mei, shaking her head. "I only know about Ameyuri because we were classmates. Once, I mentioned her name to my father, and he told me about the Ringo clan. But this Mizushiro… I've never heard of him before."
Then she asked, "Why? Did you notice something, Kyoichi?"
"Not really," Kyoichi said softly. "Just that Mizushiro's chakra reserves are enormous—comparable to Ameyuri's."
"So strong?" Mei looked genuinely surprised.
"Otherwise, why would I even suspect Uzumaki blood in him? Anyway, enough of that. Let's go—Mizukage-sama seems to have something to say to us." With that, Kyoichi closed the topic.
Still, he couldn't shake off the subtle, indescribable feeling that had brushed against his senses when Mizushiro had acted.
It wasn't necessarily good or bad, just… strange. He couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps the man had practiced some forbidden art that altered his chakra flow. Either way, Kyoichi decided to keep an eye on him—a quiet mental note to watch this new comrade among the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
"Kyoichi, Mangetsu, Ameyuri—come here!"
Yagura Karatachi's commanding voice rang out.
Those whose names were called stepped forward, and moments later, the figure of Momochi Zabuza emerged once again from the shadows.
"Zabuza, can you hear now?" Yagura asked with concern.
"I can," Zabuza replied flatly. His tone was cold and devoid of emotion.
"Good. That's what matters."
Yagura didn't mind the boy's indifference. Youths being rebellious was nothing new—give it a few years, he thought, and it would settle.
His gaze swept across the group, a satisfied smile forming as he said, "The selection for the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist has now concluded. The new generation has been chosen—Kyoichi, Mangetsu, Ameyuri, Zabuza, and Mizushiro… From this day forward, you are comrades."
No one spoke.
Not a single one made the effort to greet or acknowledge their new peers.
Kyoichi glanced briefly at the others, then returned to silence.
"Elder Anzō," Yagura said, turning to the elderly man nearby, "take them upstairs. Hand over the items prepared for them. I'll explain their assignments afterward."
"I understand," replied Anzō Onikuzu.
He turned toward the new swordsmen. "Koeda Kyoichi, Hōzuki Mangetsu, Ringo Ameyuri, Momochi Zabuza, Mizushiro—come with me. There are things to be given to you."
"Things?" Mizushiro asked curiously. "What things?"
"Stop asking nonsense and follow me. You'll see soon enough," Anzō snapped impatiently, unwilling to explain further.
"Kyoichi, you can go without worry," said Biwa Jūzō, walking over and giving Kyoichi a firm pat on the shoulder. "What they're giving you is something good. Though… for you, it might not be of much use."
"Not useful to me?" Kyoichi blinked, puzzled.
What could they possibly be giving them?
There was no way to guess by speculation alone, so he steadied his thoughts, bid a temporary farewell to Mei, and followed the group up the stairs with the other new swordsmen under Elder Anzō's lead.
He didn't stop by the medical wing to see Yūsuke, since his sensory perception told him the man's life force was still strong. With no danger to his life, there was no need to check on him.
Before long, they reached the top floor of the Mizukage's building and entered a small conference room next to the Mizukage's office.
"Wait here for a moment," Anzō said, gesturing for them to sit wherever they liked. "I'll fetch the items."
Kyoichi dragged out a chair near the window and sat down, while the others found seats of their own. The room, though called "small," could fit nearly twenty people comfortably.
Once everyone had settled, Anzō stepped out.
Two minutes later, he returned—arms full of scrolls. To be precise, five of them.
Everyone immediately realized what those scrolls must be.
"These scrolls," Anzō said, "contain the recorded insights and techniques of previous generations of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen—some are training notes, others describe ninjutsu that can only be performed through the respective swords. Study them carefully. Absorb everything you can."
He placed the scrolls on the table and began handing them out one by one.
"This one—related to the Thunder Blade: Kiba."
"This Hiramekarei."
"... The Kabutowari, Koeda Kyoichi—yours."
"The Shibuki, Mizushiro—catch!"
"And finally, the Nuibari, Momochi Zabuza—take it."
Once each received their scroll, they immediately unrolled them to read. Kyoichi did the same, remembering what Jūzō had said earlier.
He skimmed the contents at lightning speed, his eyes gliding through line after line until he reached the end.
"…It really is useless," he muttered, face blank with exasperation.
The writings left by Kabutowari's former wielders weren't training insights at all—just crude scribbles emphasizing a single theme.
The entire philosophy could be summed up in one word: "Charge."
Hit hard enough, and the problem's solved.
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P@treon/GodDragcell