"Tatsuma, let me go first. Watch how the Iron samurai fight. It doesn't matter if I lose, but it would be great if you could win."
The next day, inside the dressing room of a kendo dojo, Minato spoke with a serious tone as he buckled his armor.
After their meeting with Mifune ended the day before, the Sannin had spent the night putting the two boys through an exhaustive crash course on how to handle samurai. Of course, the focus was primarily on Tatsuma. They had touched upon this during the journey, but the stakes were higher now.
Jiraiya had tutored Minato in one-handed seals, while Tsunade had pointed Tatsuma toward Tobirama's notes on simplifying Water Style signs. Both techniques were vital when facing samurai, whose speed made traditional two-handed weaving dangerously slow.
Initially, these were contingency plans for if the negotiations turned sour or if they encountered rogue samurai. The Sannin never expected Tatsuma to take Mifune's polite invitation and turn it into a high-stakes bet tied to the mission's ultimate goal.
Consequently, Tatsuma needed every scrap of information on his opponents. The problem was that even the Sannin rarely fought high-level samurai; their experiences were mostly limited to putting down disorganized ronin in their youth.
The idea of using Minato as a "scouting pawn" to draw out the Iron samurai's techniques had crossed the Sannin's minds, but none of them had the heart to say it out loud.
Minato's sharp intellect, however, arrived at the conclusion on its own. While Tatsuma's competitive streak had rubbed off on him, Minato didn't share Tatsuma's almost fanatical obsession with personal victory. His competitive nature was usually reserved for his spars with Tatsuma; when it came to others, he prioritized the mission. Thus, he volunteered to be the one to test the waters.
Tatsuma considered the suggestion for a moment. "Minato, you can go first, but I want you to fight in the way that feels most natural to you. Don't go out of your way to bait them for my sake."
"We're facing different opponents. I've already picked up a few things from the finals; I don't need you to throw yourself under the bus for intel. Besides... watch out for your opponent, Daidou. He's clearly mastered Wind nature transformation for his strikes. Stay alert and keep sensing, or you'll get caught by a stray blade-wind."
Minato nodded. "I'll be careful. Oh, and your opponent... his observation skills are terrifying. Even among ninjas, I've only seen that level of focus in Fugaku-senpai or the Hyuga. You have a habit of exposing your left shoulder as a bait, but against these long-blade users, that's too risky. Prioritize your safety."
Tatsuma shared the sentiment. "That prematurely balding guy, Okisuke, is definitely a handful. His physical conditioning is insane. His match against Daidou didn't look like a clash between the first and second seeds—it looked like a master disciplining a rookie. The gap is massive."
The two boys exchanged a few more thoughts on their respective foes, double-checked each other's lamellar armor for loose buckles or gaps, and stepped out of the dressing room.
Back in the main hall of the dojo, the crowd had thinned considerably. Now that the champion had been crowned, few were interested in the "entertainment" Mifune had mentioned. Most samurai believed they were naturally superior to ninjas; in their eyes, a ninja wouldn't even have time to weave a seal before a blade reached their throat, let alone two small children.
As the two boys emerged in their armor, the Sannin watched with expressions of grim concern. However, when their eyes landed on Tatsuma, all three of them froze.
They had all lived through the reign of the Second Hokage and knew his face well. Tsunade, especially, was intimately familiar with her grand-uncle. Because she knew him so well, she usually found the "Tatsuma looks like Tobirama" jokes to be a reach.
But seeing Tatsuma now—clad in blue lamellar armor with a cold, serious expression—Tsunade felt a jolt of vertigo. For a fleeting second, she didn't see her student. She saw the ghost of the Second Lord.
The face was different, the age was wrong, and even the hair didn't quite match, but the aura... it was identical.
If Tsunade felt this way, the effect on Jiraiya and Orochimaru, who only had a general impression of the Second Lord, was even more profound. Even Mifune, sitting on the high dais, looked on with a gaze full of nostalgia.
Breaking the silence, Mifune looked toward the two teenage samurai who had finished their rest: Daidou, the runner-up, and Okisuke, the champion. "Are you ready?"
Daidou and Okisuke nodded. They hadn't actually exerted much effort in the finals; the match had consisted of three minutes of high-tension posturing followed by three quick clashes before Okisuke's blade was at Daidou's throat.
With the samurai ready, Mifune turned to the boys. "Have you decided on the order?"
Minato stepped forward onto the stone platform in the center of the dojo. "I'll go first."
This was exactly what Mifune expected. He looked at the runner-up. "Daidou, you're up."
Daidou nodded, performed a formal seiza to pick up his long blade, and stood up to meet Minato in the center. Minato formed the Seal of Confrontation, while Daidou performed a crouching bow before settling into a drawing stance.
"I am Daidou. Let us begin."
"I am Minato Namikaze. Let us begin."
Mifune sat up straight, his voice echoing through the hall: "Begin!"
The moment the word was spoken, Minato didn't reach for the long sword at his hip—he knew he couldn't use it effectively. Instead, he flicked his wrist, launching several shuriken in a blur of motion.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A flash of surprise crossed Daidou's face. In a samurai duel, combat rarely opened with such sudden, projectile-based aggression—this wasn't a formal spar; it was a ninja's opening. Daidou reacted instinctively, his blade clearing the scabbard to bat the shuriken out of the air.
Minato used the opening to sprint backward, opening the distance. He had no intention of engaging in a sword-to-sword fight at close range; that was Daidou's home turf and his own death zone.
As he retreated, Minato's hands blurred into a seal, but Daidou had already recovered. Seeing the boy try to weave a sign, Daidou lunged. His speed was incredible, matching the Body Flicker Technique of a seasoned Chunin.
Minato was startled by the speed, but his reflexes didn't fail him. Seeing Daidou close in for a thrust, Minato halted his retreat. Instead of backing away, he kicked off the ground and dove forward, ducking inside Daidou's reach.
A kunai appeared in Minato's hand, thrusting toward Daidou's vitals. Daidou's eyes widened; he hadn't expected the boy to have such decisive counter-instincts. He was forced to abort his attack and pull his blade back into a desperate parry.
Clang!
Kunai met steel, sparks flying from the friction. Daidou gave his hilt a powerful shove, vibrating the blade to throw Minato off-balance. He followed up with a wide horizontal slash, but Minato was already moving.
Minato twisted in mid-air, narrowly dodging the edge of the blade and the razor-sharp wind chakra trailing behind it. He hit the ground and immediately changed direction again as Daidou pressed the pursuit.
"He's still too young. The physical disadvantage is too high," Orochimaru commented softly. Jiraiya and Tsunade nodded. Minato was a genius, but biology was a wall he couldn't climb yet. Daidou was older, stronger, and faster.
In a clash of peers, Minato's edge was his refined body control, but against Daidou's superior raw stats, that advantage was neutralized.
By now, Daidou had adapted to Minato's rhythm. His attacks grew more ferocious, leaving Minato struggling to find room to breathe.
I can't keep this up.
Minato made a split-second decision. He parried a strike with his right hand, and while the blades were locked, he raised his left hand.
Daidou froze for a micro-second. No one had ever told him a ninja could weave a jutsu with only one hand.
"Fire Style: Flame Bullet!"
Minato finished the signs, took a sharp breath, and exhaled a concentrated burst of ignited oil. A roaring sphere of fire hurtled toward Daidou.
"Secret Sword: Air Slash!"
Daidou's shock lasted only a heartbeat. Wind chakra surged along his blade, and with a powerful swing, the wind-enhanced strike cleaved the fire clean in half.
Minato's heart sank as the fire dissipated. To pull off that one-handed seal while parrying, his right hand had gone almost completely numb from the vibration of Daidou's strength.
Daidou didn't give him time to recover. He pressed forward, his swordplay becoming a relentless tide. Minato dodged and parried, desperately looking for an opening for another jutsu, but Daidou was too experienced. He stayed glued to Minato—not far enough to allow a long-range jutsu, but not close enough for Minato to use his kunai effectively.
After dozens of exchanges, Minato's stamina flickered. As he ducked a lethal slash, Daidou's foot lashed out, catching Minato squarely in the chest.
The force was too much for a ten-year-old's light frame. Minato was sent flying backward, tumbling off the edge of the stone platform.
"I admit defeat."
Rubbing his sore chest, Minato stood up and hopped back onto the stage. He offered a genuine smile. "You are very strong. I will work hard to surpass you."
He formed the Seal of Reconciliation. Daidou nodded, his expression respectful. "You are impressive. At your age, I was nowhere near your level." Daidou reached out and hooked his finger against Minato's, maintaining the dignity of a victor.
As they stepped down, the "prematurely balding" Okisuke walked to the center of the platform. He watched Tatsuma, who was currently whispering intensely with Minato.
Once Tatsuma finally stepped up to face him, Okisuke spoke: "You should just forfeit. Your level is likely the same as your friend's. You have no hope of winning. A person with such wavering conviction cannot defeat me."
Tatsuma's lips curled into a wide, infectious grin. "You know, people like you—so arrogant and unyielding—are my favorite. Because the satisfaction of breaking someone like you is something words just can't describe."
Okisuke's eyes narrowed, but he understood that Tatsuma wouldn't be swayed. He settled into a formal crouching bow.
"I am Okisuke. Let us begin."
"I am Tatsuma Sakamoto. Let us begin."