The Dragon Fang Blade shifted once more beneath the relentless pounding, each strike pushing the weapon toward perfection.
Uchiha Shigure gripped the sledgehammer in both hands, sweat streaming down his brow as he slammed it against the massive fang. Again and again. Each reverberation cracked through the cavern of Ryūchi Cave, the sound deafening, until the Black-Scaled Snake Sage crept forward, tapping lightly with its tiny hammer. Their strange rhythm—Shigure's booming smashes and the Sage's soft, precise touches—repeated five times before the great serpent finally hissed in satisfaction.
At last, gleaming on the stone slab before them, lay a flawless, pure-white blade. Sharp, elegant, and deadly—like a crescent moon cut from bone.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand strikes, and it's finally finished?" Shigure frowned, strangely unsatisfied. His arms still ached to swing.
"That's it… it's over." The Black-Scaled Snake's smile was weary as it shook its head. "Why in the world would you want to keep going? You really are obsessive about your work."
"The weapon is complete, and now…" The serpent slithered toward the pile of shimmering white dragon scales. Picking up its small hammer, the Black Scale gave a few casual taps, as if playing rather than forging. But with each touch, power shimmered—and a full set of armor appeared before Shigure's eyes.
White. Smooth. Engraved with faint draconic patterns. It gleamed like starlight condensed into steel.
"Dragon scale cuirass. Dragon scale greaves. Shinobi foot guards. And gloves…"
"Armor?" Shigure's eyes narrowed. "Isn't armor a burden for a shinobi? Wouldn't something forged from dragon scales be heavy enough to crush me flat?"
"Why don't you try it on?" the Black Snake replied slyly.
Shigure lifted the gauntlets. To his shock, even with Sage Mode released, the armor felt astonishingly light—no heavier than his usual Uchiha flak jacket.
"Don't trouble yourself with the weight," the Sage said. Its golden eyes gleamed. "This is armor that responds only to you. No one else will even be able to lift it off the ground."
"Incredible…" Shigure ran his fingers over the plates, then frowned again. "But it doesn't even fit me properly. This armor is far too large."
The snake chuckled at his words, tongue flicking. "Have you never heard what's said of dragons? They appear and vanish at will. They can be large enough to coil around a mountain, or small enough to slip through a keyhole. Your armor has inherited that divine quality. Watch."
The serpent whispered, "Smaller."
Before Shigure's wide eyes, the dragon-scale cuirass shrank, folding in on itself like a living thing until it was perfectly fitted to his lean frame.
"Incredible…" he muttered. At last he tried the armor on. His body was still light, his steps unburdened—as if the dragon's scales had fused seamlessly with his movements. Yet something still prickled at him.
"It's… uncomfortable," he admitted, shifting. "The edges feel as though they'll cut right into me."
The Black Snake slapped its own forehead. "Of course. Foolish me! Who told you to wear armor over your standard uniform?"
It slithered away, retrieving a folded black bodysuit from the far side of the cavern. "Wear this beneath it. A proper inner layer. It's made from the skin my ancestor shed when evolving into a dragon upon entering Ryūchi Cave. Stronger than silk, comfortable, and breathable—you'll find it warm in winter, cool in summer. A priceless gift."
Shigure slipped it on. The suit wound onto his skin like water poured over stone, molding to him perfectly. When the armor settled over it a second later, all discomfort vanished. He no longer felt like a boy dressed in metal. He felt like a warrior born in dragon's blood.
His reflection in the lacquer of the Dragon Fang Blade was fearsome—even the Black Snake Sage slithered back, tongue-tips quivering in admiration.
"You forgot this," the snake murmured, tossing the gleaming blade through the air. Shigure's fingers closed around its hilt instinctively, the weapon as familiar as his own heartbeat.
"There are still scales left," the Sage added. It rapped its hammer once more, and the remnants fused into a scabbard, white as ivory. Shigure slid the sword into it, the click perfectly tuned, as though blade and sheath had always been one.
His gauntlets. His foot guards. His armor. His scabbard. A warrior's full array.
For the first time in years, Shigure allowed himself a grin.
But something soured his thoughts. He tightened his grip on the hilt and faced the serpent squarely. "Why? This can't simply be generosity. Not from you. What is it you really want, Black Snake Sage? Speak plainly."
The serpentine mouth curved into a strange smile. "You are indeed perceptive. Then let me be direct. What I desire… is for you to become my disciple."
"…Disciple?" Shigure blinked, startled.
"Yes," the great serpent nodded solemnly. "There are two of us who dwell at the heart of Ryūchi Cave. Myself—the Black-Scaled Snake. And the White Snake Immortal. Bai Lin's so-called immortal arts are far different from mine. Warriors consumed by greed go to her, lusting for the overwhelming power she offers. Their ambition turns to slaughter, and they become slaves to what they sought."
Its golden eyes watched him carefully.
"For generations, every shinobi who inherited power here was twisted. That is not the way of true immortality. My art—the Black Scale Style—follows the genuine will of the immortals. Yet it has remained hidden, ignored! This grieves me deeply.
"But now, you… you have passed my trials. And Bai Lin did not strike you down. That means you are approved! If you allow me, I will grant you both hers and mine. You will inherit the full legacy of Ryūchi Cave!"
The creature's massive body shuddered with excitement.
Shigure stared back darkly. "And why should I believe this isn't a trap? After all, these gifts—the armor, the blade—they could both be shackles. What if you've woven some conspiracy I can't see yet?"
"Nonsense," the Sage barked. "Look at what you hold. Look at your own power. Aren't these the finest welcome gifts imaginable?"
Shigure raised one eyebrow. "Didn't I forge them myself?"
"Who kept your hands steady? Who guided your chakra? Look within yourself. Have you not noticed how your chakra has transformed these past two months?"
The Uchiha closed his eyes. He reached inward—and froze.
Indeed, something within him had changed. Exhausted from the endless strikes, he swallowed one of the Black Snake's elixirs again—and the flow of chakra roared back, vaster than ever. Beyond Kage-level reserves. Deeper. Purer.
If before his energy had been a sea one thousand meters deep, now it was an abyss five times as vast. The breadth little changed, but the depth was staggering.
His eyes snapped open, pupils dilated.
The snake gave a knowing nod. "Now you see? The bellows. The hammer. They were not merely forging weapons—they were forging you. You are at last qualified to touch true Sage Arts."
It pressed a scaled hand—cool, heavy—onto his shoulder. "From this day forward, I will teach you. You will be my successor."
But Shigure slowly shrugged it off, face twisting in skepticism.
"Why should I? Do I need to call you master for strength? The White Snake teaches without demanding loyalty, yet you insist. Perhaps that's your weakness—you lack what she has."
A dangerous rattling filled the cavern. The serpent's eyes flared. "Weakness? You dare compare me to her?"
Shigure smirked. "Tell me, Black Snake. Do you know her White Stimulation Technique? With one touch, she can paralyze an opponent entirely. Elegant. Efficient. Terrifying. Isn't that power?"
"White Stimulation?" the serpent spat with contempt. "A cheap, wretched trick. Nothing compared to the mastery of the Black Scale Arts!"
Its body coiled tighter, black scales scraping stone, temper rising—as Shigure's smirk lingered, provoking it further.
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