After resting for a bit, Kakashi, Naruto, and Sasuke made their way to a training room. Mifune stood at the front of the room, overseeing a line of samurai who were performing a single chopping motion continuously. The action looked engraved in their beings; not a single one faltered despite the sheen of sweat on their uncovered faces.
Mifune looked over at the sound of the door as the three walked in. "You've only rested for two hours; are you sure you don't need more rest?"
"No, we're plenty rested, I assure you," Kakashi replied, watching the many samurai spread out and sit along the edges of the square training room at a hand gesture from Mifune.
"Very well." Mifune nodded, taking in the more casual attire of the three. There were no flak vests, no formal Kage cloaks, and no hats, just simple undershirts, pants, and sandals.
Tossing each of them a bamboo sword, Mifune gestured toward the center of the room. Kakashi tilted his head, gesturing for Naruto to go first.
Naruto stepped into the center. A bulky samurai moved forward to face him, giving his soon-to-be opponent a formal bow of respect. Naruto returned the gesture, his fingers almost forming the traditional Seal of Confrontation on pure instinct before he adjusted to match the samurai's style.
Once the bow was complete, both stepped a few feet back and dropped into their stances; Naruto's stance was fluid, feet shoulder-length apart, weight centered and perfectly balanced. The samurai across from Naruto had a stance that wouldn't surprise anyone; it was a more rigid stance, more sturdy, less fluid, made for powerful strikes that would either disarm or even carve through torsos if he were wielding a real blade.
The samurai didn't waste any time. He exploded forward, his wooden blade carving through the air in a heavy, punishing overhead strike meant to crush right through Naruto's guard.
Naruto didn't try to block the heavy blow directly. Instead, his body moved like a current. Dropping low, he utilized the fluid footwork of the Third Form: Flowing Dance, his body bending smoothly around the trajectory of the descending strike.
The samurai realized mid-swing that he was hitting empty air. Relying on sheer reflexive instinct and raw strength, he wrenched his body around, forcing his wooden blade backward into an awkward, inverted block just as Naruto glided into his blind spot. The two bamboo swords clashed with a sharp crack, the samurai barely managing to keep Naruto's weapon away from his neck, though his uneven posture left him completely strained.
Naruto stepped back, though he could have pressed and ended the spar; that wasn't the point, and he wanted an honest spar with someone skilled with a blade.
"Naruto Namikaze, you?"
Back in his stance, the samurai knew that if this had been a real battle, he'd either be dead or disabled. He adjusted his grip on his wooden sword, his respect for the young ninja climbing instantly.
"Takamasa Ushimitsu."
He replied before launching a series of strikes that were lighter and more wary of his opponent's counters; each strike was quick and defensive, with plenty of time to guard against the fluid movements he'd seen in their previous exchange.
Seeing his opponent's more wary approach, Naruto danced through the strikes, not committing to attacks, using the Ninth Form of water breathing to move erratically, like a fish escaping grasping hands, always a bit too fast.
Takamasa was starting to get into a rhythm when he saw the opening to the first move of his opponent, the Third Form: Flowering Dance, raising his guard as the sword came whistling in a wide arc at his neck.
Mid-motion, Naruto smirked, planted his lead foot, and flowed directly into the Seventh Form, a thrust attack that carried all the momentum and power of the wide-arching Third Form.
Takamasa realized his mistake too late; by the time his brain thought of a counter, the tip of the bamboo practice blade hit his chest, sending him sliding back and nearly knocking him onto his back.
Takamasa looked down at the soft padding on his chest, seeing a hole through it that stopped before it tore through his undershirt and then his skin.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Naruto, Sasuke, and Kakashi were a bit confused, but seeing the Samurai's reactions, it seemed they were used to this.
"Amazing. To be this skilled at your age, you have real talent ki- no, Naruto Namikaze, I won't forget your name."
Takamasa bowed once more, then walked over to Mifune and sat down to his right.
"It would seem I lost, Father."
Mifune swiftly chopped him on the top of the head.
"We've been over this; I am not your father when training."
He replied with a sigh, used to his somewhat slow adopted son.
Kakashi was inwardly a bit shocked by the reveal, not knowing Mifune had a son, but thinking about it more deeply, it wasn't strange that he didn't know; the Land of Iron had always been closed off and more neutral.
Mifune looked a slender young man in the eyes. The young samurai, about nineteen or twenty, stood and made his way to the center. Sasuke didn't need to be told this was his opponent.
They bowed to each other in the center.
"Inosuke."
"Sasuke Uchiha."
The introduction was concise; the two were clearly the same sort of person, preferring to say less.
The moment the bow was complete and Sasuke took his stance, Inosuke sprang forward and struck with aggressive blows that carried an animalistic fierceness, completely unlike how he was a moment ago.
The more Sasuke dodged, the faster the next strikes came. Sasuke pivoted away from the strikes with ease at first, but as they sped up, they came closer and closer to hitting.
Realizing that pure evasion would eventually run him out of space, Sasuke anchored his back foot. Instead of pulling away from the next incoming strike, he slid forward into the very teeth of the assault, his posture dropping low as he executed a swift, rising circular deflection.
Second Form: Pearl Flowers Moongazing.
The bamboo blades collided with a harsh, biting crack. Sasuke's wrist snapped in a rapid series of ascending crescent arcs, using Inosuke's momentum to intercept and trap the aggressive flurry. The sudden, overlapping defensive blocks formed a wall of wood that completely jammed Inosuke's forward rhythm, forcing the tip of his blade upward and exposing him to a counter for the first time.
Sasuke's counter-offensive snapped forward, exploiting the gap in Inosuke's guard. But Inosuke's battle instincts were entirely subconscious. Sensing the sudden shift in the attack's trajectory, his body reacted before his mind could even process the threat. He forced his lead wrist over, twisting his bamboo blade downward in a desperate parry to catch the blow.
The two wooden swords collided with a sharp, explosive crack. Because Inosuke was already mid-motion and lacked stable footing against Sasuke's strike, the deflection's impact broke his balance and flung him straight back across the floor, skidding back on his hands and feet.
Sasuke closed his eyes, took a steadying breath, and started listening instead of relying on his sight.
Off to the side, Kakashi couldn't help but smirk, knowing what he was doing.
As the room's noise faded, the world around Sasuke began to slow down. He wasn't just filtering out the sounds around him; he was tuning into the rhythm of everything in the space. The subtle tension in the wood of his own bamboo sword, the precise grain of the floorboards under his feet, and the sharp, rhythmic friction of Inosuke's breathing across the room all began to hum with a distinct, clear frequency.
With his eyes shut, Sasuke lowered his arm loosely, letting the tip of his bamboo blade rest lightly against the floorboards beside his right foot.
Suddenly, the floorboards groaned as Inosuke launched himself upward, cutting through the air. He came down from above, his sword high for a heavy downward strike.
Sasuke didn't open his eyes. Guided by the Breath of All Things, his hand dropped down, abandoning his relaxed stance as his fingers wrapped tightly around his hilt. Mimicking the exact physics of an iaidō draw from an empty waist, he whipped the blade upward straight from the floor in a blinding arc.
A clean snap echoed through the room. Sasuke's perfect draw cut straight through the attack. Inosuke's bamboo sword sheared in two, the top half clattering to the floor as the strike continued forward, cleanly splitting his protective chest pads right down the middle.
Inosuke dropped straight down onto his hands and knees, the sheer momentum of his ruined trajectory throwing him forward as he barely managed to brace against the floorboards. The severed top half of his bamboo sword clattered a few feet away, rolling to a standstill in the heavy silence.
"Match."
Mifune called from his place, eyes shining with pure appreciation for the art of the strike he'd just witnessed; it was so fluid and deadly it could have very well killed Inosuke, but the lethality was controlled to a degree that showed great mastery.
"Someone help Inosuke up and clear of the center."
Mifune ordered, standing and immediately catching everyone's attention as he walked to the center, bamboo blade in hand, eyes on Kakashi.
"I'll say that I am eager to see what the son of Sakumo has; I know I won't be disappointed."
The onlookers quickly pulled a stunned but uninjured Inosuke away from the floorboards, leaving the center of the room wide open for the two masters.
"I hope I can provide an entertaining match," Kakashi replied, his voice calm and steady as his fingers wrapped around the handle of his own bamboo sword. He stepped forward to meet the samurai in the middle of the ring, the air in the training hall sharpening instantly under the pressure of their intent.
- Chapter End -