Chapter 8: Aftermath and Recognition
Even the brief, distracting presence of Uchiha Akira's Shadow Clone had tipped the scales. Cornered and with his comrades fallen or fleeing, Momotaro Hayato's situation grew increasingly desperate. As the pressure mounted, so did his panic.
"Damn Uchiha!" he snarled, grinding his teeth. In all his years as a shinobi, he had never felt so utterly helpless in a fight.
"Uchiha brat, I'll take you with me!" With a roar of pure fury, Momotaro Hayato committed everything. He channeled every last drop of his remaining chakra directly into the twin blades of the Hiramekarei.
The sword responded instantly, erupting in a blinding corona of blue light. Massive quantities of chakra surged from the vents along its blades, condensing in a heartbeat into a colossal, hammer-like shell of solid energy around the weapon—its fully released form.
He raised the immense construct, intending a final, suicidal strike. But in that critical moment of focus, his eyes met a pair of crimson orbs swirling with malice.
The world shifted.
He was no longer in the forest. He hung, bound to a wooden post, in a monochrome world of black and blood-red. A giant, spinning Sharingan dominated the crimson sky above. All around him, paper-thin effigies of himself ignited in silent, raging flames, the heat washing over him.
'An illusion… the Sharingan's genjutsu…' was his last coherent thought before the simulated inferno consumed his consciousness, plunging him into absolute darkness.
In reality, Momotaro Hayato's body went rigid. The liberated Hiramekarei, its chakra shell winking out of existence, fell from his slack hands with a heavy clang. He himself toppled forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Uchiha Akira watched for a second, then four shuriken appeared between his fingers. With sharp flicks of his wrist, they shot forth, each one unerringly pinning one of Momotaro's limbs to the earth, effectively crippling him. Only then did Akira approach, delivering a precise chop to the back of the man's neck to ensure he remained unconscious.
He then retrieved the now-dormant Hiramekarei and, grabbing Momotaro Hayato by the ankle, began dragging him back towards the area where Might Dai and the others were recovering.
There, Might Dai—the azure aura of the Seventh Gate now completely faded—was slumped against a large, cracked boulder. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling with profound exhaustion. Maintaining and fighting in that state pushed his limits to the absolute edge.
Seeing Uchiha Akira return, dragging a prisoner and carrying a legendary sword, Dai managed a weak but genuine smile. He raised a shaky hand, forming a thumbs-up. His teeth still managed to flash brilliantly.
Akira responded in kind, offering a tired but respectful thumbs-up back.
The gesture seemed to inject Dai with a fresh wave of happiness, as if this simple acknowledgement from a powerful fellow shinobi was a reward in itself.
Dropping Momotaro Hayato and the Hiramekarei unceremoniously to the side, Akira looked at Dai. "You going to be alright? I didn't catch your name. I'm Uchiha Akira."
"Might Dai," he replied, his smile widening. "Don't you worry, Uchiha-kun! My youth has merely paused for a moment! It will recharge and be more passionate than ever!"
"Good to hear," Akira nodded, then found a relatively flat piece of rubble to sit on, allowing his own fatigue to settle in. The battle against the Seven Swordsmen had been intensely taxing, mentally and physically. Their initial underestimation had been his greatest advantage; a more coordinated assault from the start would have ended very differently. Even so, the strain of high-level combat was a palpable weight on his mind.
Soon, Might Guy, Genma, and Ebisu returned, having gathered the other fallen ninja swords. Their relief at seeing Akira safe was visible.
"Incredible," Ebisu muttered, pushing his sunglasses up. "He actually took one alive."
"Of course he did," Genma said around his senbon, as if it were the most obvious thing. "When Might Dai wasn't here yet, the senior held off all seven by himself. Capturing one seems pretty standard, right?" He then bowed slightly toward Akira. "We owe you our lives, senior. Thank you."
The other two echoed the sentiment fervently.
Uchiha Akira waved a dismissive hand. "Any Konoha shinobi would have done the same. Besides," he nodded toward Might Dai, "you had him. With his power, he would have reached you in time."
Might Dai let out a soft, pained chuckle. "Uchiha-kun, if it weren't for you dividing their forces and taking out two of them early… I would have had no choice but to open the Final Gate. The Crimson Beast would have been my only option."
Akira didn't reply to that, simply giving him another firm thumbs-up.
"Wait, Kai," Ebisu interjected, his eyes wide. "That… that wasn't your dad's normal power?"
Guy, still buzzing with a mix of awe and concern for his father, shook his head. "That's a forbidden technique that pushes the body to its absolute limits. What you saw was the result of a desperate, all-or-nothing effort. Under normal circumstances, that's as far as he can go without…" He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. As a practitioner of the Eight Gates, he knew the Eighth meant death.
The senbon nearly fell from Genma's slack jaw. He stared at the exhausted Might Dai with new reverence. "Kai… does your father… take students? I think… I could be very dedicated."
"Huh? Students?" Guy was taken aback. "But… my dad's a genin."
"What does rank matter?" Genma retorted, his usual lazy demeanor gone. "That move just killed jonin-level opponents one after another. Even if the Hokage himself were here, the result would speak for itself!"
Overhearing this, Might Dai quickly raised a weary hand. "Please, don't say such things. I could never compare to the Hokage. Lord Third is the Professor, the God of Shinobi. I am just a genin who got lucky with a powerful technique."
Genma flushed slightly, chuckling awkwardly. "Right, right. Of course. The Third Hokage is in a class of his own."
"Exactly," Ebisu agreed, a dreamy look in his eyes. "To think of the Hokage's power… If he weren't needed to defend the village itself, this war would have ended long ago!" He turned to Uchiha Akira, who was quietly resting. "What do you think, Senior Akira? About the Hokage's strength?"
"That question…" Akira rubbed his chin, thoughtful. As a traveler, he truly wasn't sure. His memories of Sarutobi Hiruzen's feats were impressive—repelling the Nine-Tails with a single staff strike, battling the First Hokage's Wood Release—but quantifying that power was difficult. "It's… hard to say for certain."
Their conversation was abruptly cut short. A streak of golden light flickered through the distant trees. It moved with impossible speed, covering vast distances in a series of instantaneous jumps, before resolving into the form of a young man with bright blond hair and kind blue eyes.
Namikaze Minato had arrived. Taking in the scene—the devastated battlefield, the group of survivors, and the captured swordsman and blade—a look of profound relief crossed his face, followed by astonishment.
"I'm glad you're all safe," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. His gaze then settled on the distinctive Hiramekarei beside the prisoner. "The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of Kirigakure?"
"It was them," Uchiha Akira confirmed, nodding. A flicker of frustration showed on his face. "The one called Fuguki Suikazan, the wielder of Samehada, managed to escape."
Namikaze Minato's eyes swept over the group, lingering on the exhausted Might Dai and the young Uchiha before him. His expression was one of deep respect. "To think… six of the infamous Seven Swordsmen were stopped here by you."
Might Dai shook his head weakly, gesturing toward Akira. "The credit belongs to Uchiha-kun. He faced four of them alone at the start and held them off."
(End of Chapter)
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