Three days later, a black-haired young man carrying a long katana across his back walked into the icy, snow-blanketed Land of Iron.
His steps were steady, unhurried, but his eyes held a sharp vigilance as they scanned the white landscape. The winter wind howled around him, pulling at his dark cloak, yet he didn't seem the least bit troubled.
"Is he planning to make his move when I return?" the young man murmured quietly, his tone calm but wary.
This man was none other than Hyuga Neji.
---
Arrival in the Land of Iron
After traveling for several days, Neji finally arrived in the capital city of the Samurai. The Land of Iron was unlike the bustling villages of the Shinobi world. There were no flashy banners, no merchants loudly calling out their wares, and no bustling children running through the streets with ninja headbands on their foreheads. Instead, the air carried a solemn weight. Men in armor patrolled with swords at their waists, their expressions disciplined and calm.
The streets were wide but quiet, lined with wooden houses that bore the traditional style of Samurai architecture. Everything seemed simple, disciplined, and clean—reflecting the lives of the people here.
After walking for a while, Neji came across a modest barbecue restaurant with smoke lazily drifting out of its chimney. His long journey had left him hungry, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The restaurant was warm compared to the biting cold outside. A charcoal grill crackled at the center, filling the air with the scent of roasted meat. The handful of customers sitting inside looked up briefly when Neji entered, their eyes lingering on the long katana strapped across his back, before turning away without comment.
Neji found a seat, ordered a few side dishes, and waited quietly. When the food was placed before him, he picked up his chopsticks and ate slowly, savoring the warmth that spread through his body. After a few bites, he raised his head and asked the owner in a calm tone:
"Excuse me, do you know where Mifune-senpai lives?"
The middle-aged owner, wiping his hands on a towel, paused and looked at Neji in surprise. His eyes flickered toward the katana on Neji's back, then to the chakra blade at his waist. Though Neji wore no ninja headband and his eyes were hidden behind dark goggles, his bearing was unmistakable—that of someone who had undergone years of rigorous training.
"You're looking for Lord Mifune?" the owner asked in a low, cautious voice. "So… you must be here to request apprenticeship under him?"
Neji froze for half a second, slightly caught off guard by the assumption. But after considering, he gave a small nod.
"Yes," he replied evenly. "I greatly admire Mifune-senpai's swordsmanship. I've traveled thousands of miles, hoping to become his disciple and learn even a fraction of his skill."
The owner's brows eased at that explanation. A faint smile touched his lips, though it carried more sorrow than joy.
"With the rise of shinobi," he sighed, "Samurai have slowly faded into obscurity. Few young men these days choose to follow the way of the sword. To hear someone speak with such respect for Lord Mifune warms my heart."
Neji lowered his head slightly, hiding his expression. Being misunderstood was safer. He had no intention of explaining his true purpose.
After a moment, the owner pointed toward the street outside.
"Mifune-sensei's residence is at the end of the first left turn ahead. You'll recognize it by the two bamboo swords hanging at the entrance."
"Thank you," Neji said earnestly.
"You're welcome. I wish you success in becoming his disciple," the owner replied with a small smile before turning back to tend to other customers.
Finishing his meal, Neji paid, stood, and left the restaurant.
---
Meeting Mifune
Following the directions, Neji soon arrived at a traditional residence marked exactly as described: two bamboo swords hung side by side at the entrance. The home radiated a calm, disciplined aura, like its owner.
Neji stepped forward and knocked firmly on the wooden door.
"Is Mifune-senpai home?" he called out respectfully.
A few moments later, the door creaked open. Standing before him was a middle-aged man, tall and slender, with strong hands covered in old calluses. His presence was sharp, like a drawn blade ready to strike. Even without lifting a sword, he exuded the unmistakable aura of a master swordsman.
Neji's eyes narrowed slightly behind his goggles.
So this was Mifune, the famed General of the Land of Iron. He looked younger than Neji remembered from his knowledge of the future. His features were sharp, his gaze steady, his very stance embodying the essence of Samurai discipline.
The Samurai leader studied Neji in return. "Young man," he asked calmly, "are you here to see me?"
Neji inclined his head. "Yes. I was entrusted by Chunin Kyuzo of the Hidden Cloud Village to bring his katana to you."
"Kyuzo…?" Mifune's brows furrowed in thought. Then his eyes widened slightly with recognition. "So he's still alive… and even became a ninja?"
Neji's tone softened. "Mifune-senpai, when I left him, Kyuzo-senpai was gravely ill. He was already on his deathbed. By now, I fear…" He trailed off, letting silence finish the sentence.
Mifune lowered his gaze, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "Life is unpredictable. I never thought that stubborn fellow would leave before me."
Reaching behind him, Neji removed the long katana strapped to his back and presented it with both hands.
"This is Kyuzo-senpai's blade."
Mifune accepted it carefully, unsheathing it with practiced ease. The steel was rusted, its surface marred with cracks. Like its owner, it had endured countless battles, and its time was nearly at an end.
"…So old," Mifune murmured quietly, his fingers tracing the worn edge.
Neji bowed slightly. "The sword has been delivered. I will take my leave."
But as Neji turned, Mifune's voice stopped him.
"Young man. It is already late. The snow grows heavier. Why not stay the night at my humble home and depart tomorrow?"
Neji paused, studying him carefully. Though Mifune could not see his eyes behind the goggles, Neji's gaze was sharp and probing. The Samurai leader stood calm, his aura clear, without the slightest trace of deceit or hostility.
"…In that case," Neji finally said, "I will trouble you for your hospitality."
---
Inside Mifune's Residence
The interior of Mifune's home was simple yet refined. Tatami mats covered the floor, paper screens separated the rooms, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air. But what stood out most were the swords—dozens of katanas displayed along the walls and stands. Each blade was unique, no two the same, their presence filling the room with a sharp, dignified energy.
Mifune gestured for Neji to sit. "Please, young man, have a seat."
Neji sat cross-legged on the cushion, nodding politely. "Thank you."
As they settled, Mifune's gaze fell on Kyuzo's sword, now resting beside him. His eyes softened with memory.
"Young man," he asked, "tell me about Kyuzo. How has he fared all these years?"
Neji gave a wry smile, shaking his head. "Mifune-senpai, I had little interaction with Kyuzo-senpai. I do not know much of his past."
Mifune sighed, though without blame. "There is no need to apologize. Kyuzo was eccentric, always difficult to understand. In the Land of Iron, I was his only true friend. Would you like to hear about him—about the days we shared?"
Neji nodded solemnly. "I am all ears."
---
Mifune's Memories
Mifune's eyes drifted toward the flickering light of the lantern, his voice carrying a tone of nostalgia.
"More than thirty years ago, Kyuzo and I were the most ordinary Samurai in the Land of Iron. I sought to uphold the way of the Samurai, to preserve peace and stability in our homeland amidst a world of chaos. Kyuzo was the same. We trained together, sparred together, and forged a bond of brotherhood."
Neji listened quietly, respecting the man's sincerity. Though he could not fully understand why men devoted themselves to such rigid ideals, he did not judge. Everyone had their path.
"Later," Mifune continued, "war broke out. The Land of Iron was invaded by the shinobi of the Hidden Rain Village. To protect our people, the General led us to battle. But he was poisoned by Hanzo the Salamander, the ruthless leader of Amegakure, and died not long after."
Neji sipped his tea, eyes narrowing in thought. The Land of Iron was poor, its terrain harsh, with few resources worth fighting over. Why had Hanzo, crossing all the way from the Land of Rain past the Land of Fire, chosen to invade here?
But then he recalled how, during the Third Great Ninja War, even the Hidden Sand and Hidden Mist—separated by oceans and foreign territory—had still clashed on distant battlefields. With that in mind, Hanzo's actions seemed less incomprehensible.
"After the General's death, the Samurai were shaken," Mifune said with a faraway look. "On one battlefield, Kyuzo and I led a small squad. That day… we encountered Hanzo himself. I drew my blade without hesitation, standing before my comrades. Kyuzo, however…"
Mifune's words trailed off. He took a slow breath, his gaze dimming.
"…Kyuzo fled."
Neji lifted his head, watching the man carefully. His expression was calm, reflective, without the slightest trace of hatred.
"I fought Hanzo with all I had," Mifune went on. "But I was defeated. Yet instead of killing me, Hanzo spared my life. He even gave me an antidote for the poison I had inhaled. I survived, though at the cost of my honor."
He set his teacup down, his voice soft. "After that battle, I never saw Kyuzo again. I thought he had perished in the war. Perhaps, like many Samurai who abandoned the way, he yearned for power and chose to become a shinobi instead."
A faint, bittersweet smile touched Mifune's lips. "But that man… all these years, he never once returned to see me."
---
Neji's Reflection
Silence lingered between them, broken only by the crackle of the hearth.
Neji looked at Mifune, seeing not bitterness but calm acceptance. A man willing to sacrifice himself to protect others, who bore no resentment even toward betrayal—that kind of resolve was beyond Neji's comprehension. To him, it seemed foolish. Yet… he couldn't help but feel respect.
Mifune truly embodied the way of the Samurai.
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