A ripple distorted the mental space.
Next to the faded urn of the Rogue Ninja, a new one appeared.
It was dark, metallic, and cold. The lid bore a sharp emblem: a Tachi.
"A sword?" Kiyohara blinked. 'Am I going to be a samurai?'
He knocked on the urn with his mind.
"Are you there?"
"It seems I have died."
A phantom spirit emerged. He looked about twenty years old, standing straight as a pine tree.
He resembled Kiyohara, but his features were sharper, his brow hardened by discipline. He radiated the aura of a drawn blade.
"You must be my past self," the spirit said calmly.
"Yes. Are you a swordsman?"
"You could say that."
The spirit nodded. "As a commoner, my chakra reserves were pathetic. So I apprenticed under Kosuke Maruboshi—the Eternal Genin—and mastered the Konoha-Style Willow Sword."
Kiyohara's eyes lit up.
Kosuke Maruboshi. The man who refused promotion to atone for a past mistake, yet possessed strength rivaling an elite Jonin. He was a legend among those who knew.
To apprentice under him meant this version of Kiyohara had grit.
"I died fighting Ao of the Hidden Mist," the spirit continued, his voice like grinding steel. "His Byakugan saw through my muscle tension. He countered every strike before I made it."
"What is your dying wish?" Kiyohara asked.
"Two things," the Swordsman raised two fingers.
* Avenge me. Kill Ao.
* Forge a Sword. Create a blade capable of perfect chakra conduction. My old sword broke during the fight.
Kiyohara nodded.
'Doable.'
He already had the Chakra Metal from the bridge mission. He just needed money for the smithing fee.
As for Ao? The current Ao didn't have a Byakugan yet. He was just a skilled sensor type. Killing him now would be easier than later.
'A month,' Kiyohara calculated. 'I can clear this in a month.'
"But first," the Swordsman frowned at Kiyohara's physique. "Your body is too weak."
"If you run out of chakra, what do you have left? A blade never runs out of ammo. We need to build your foundation."
"How?"
The Swordsman pointed to the riverbank.
"Pick that up."
Kiyohara looked. It wasn't a stick. It was a Stone Pillar.
Dark gray. Rough-hewn. About five feet long and as thick as a thigh. It looked like a piece of a broken bridge.
It easily weighed fifty kilograms.
"Swing that?" Kiyohara stared. "I'm not Rock Lee."
"When you can swing that stone like a feather, a real sword will feel weightless," the Swordsman said uncompromisingly. "Grip. Stance. Core. Burn the movements into your bone marrow."
Kiyohara sighed.
He walked over and heaved the stone pillar onto his shoulder. His knees buckled slightly.
'This is going to suck.'
For the next few days, Kiyohara's routine was brutal.
Patrol. Transport rice. Practice Gale Palm.
And then, swing the stone.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
He stood in a clearing near the camp, sweating profusely as he swung the massive rock in basic kendo drills.
"Kiyohara?"
Rin Nohara walked by, carrying a water bucket. She stopped, staring.
Kiyohara was shirtless (again), muscles straining as he lifted the dark, thick, hard... stone rod.
"Are you... practicing a new taijutsu?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Mm. That's right."
Kiyohara grunted, lifting the pillar high.
The sun was behind him. The shadow of the massive, erect stone rod cast a long, dark shape across Rin's face.
Rin blinked, her face flushing slightly for reasons she couldn't quite articulate.
'Why is he swinging that... thing?'
"It's for grip strength," Kiyohara explained breathlessly, oblivious to the visual innuendo. "If I can master this, a normal sword will be a toothpick."
"O-Oh. I see."
Rin nodded quickly and hurried away.
'Boys are weird.'
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