While Kirigakure and Konohagakure continued their tug-of-war along the southeastern coast, with the situation across the shinobi world growing ever more chaotic—
Thousands of kilometers away, in the capital of the Land of Iron—
The once-every-three-years National Swordsmanship Tournament, spanning five days, finally opened its curtains.
The enormous open-air arena was already packed with spectators who had traveled from every corner of the country.
Samurai, merchants, craftsmen, rōnin, and even visitors who had come specifically from neighboring nations filled the circular stands in dense waves, their voices rising and falling in an endless roar.
In the highest VIP section, the current General of the Land of Iron, Mifune, sat beside the previous General, Rokuruma, quietly discussing something.
As they talked, both men's eyes drifted toward an arena on the left.
It wasn't just them.
Their attendants behind them—and even a considerable portion of the audience—found their gazes unconsciously converging in that same direction.
Because standing there was a tall young man with an utterly carefree expression.
Resting casually across one shoulder was a rugged-looking halberd, while a long sword hung diagonally at his waist.
He stood there lazily, looking less like a tournament contestant than someone who had just been dragged out of a teahouse at the last minute.
Yet despite that thoroughly unrestrained appearance, nearly half the eyes in the entire arena were fixed on him.
Ashina-ryū Isshin.
Many people present had long since heard his name.
Even those who hadn't recognized him before had become thoroughly familiar with him over the past few days, thanks to the relentless publicity filling Kyoto's streets and newspapers.
A few months earlier, he had fought the man now shaking the entire shinobi world—Crimson Flame Shinichi—to a draw in Konoha's arena, and publicly made his promise to one day determine who would become the strongest in the shinobi world.
Although Isshin's life over the past few months had been remarkably uneventful—challenging dōjō after dōjō, practicing swordsmanship, then challenging more dōjō, day after day—
As Higashino Shinichi's reputation on the battlefields of the shinobi world continued to soar and his exploits grew ever more astonishing, Isshin, whose name had become forever linked with his, found his own fame rising right alongside it.
It had even led to a number of rather amusing situations.
The dōjō masters who had lost to Isshin had originally regarded those defeats as humiliations, secretly cursing him who knew how many times.
But as Higashino Shinichi's fame skyrocketed, their attitude gradually changed.
After all...
Isshin was someone who had fought Higashino Shinichi to a draw.
What had once been a humiliation somehow became a strange source of comfort.
Some even began treating it as a badge of honor worth bragging about.
It was like someone suddenly appearing in today's shinobi world and declaring,
"I once fought the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama."
Never mind whether it was truly a great battle.
Never mind who won.
Never mind how the fight actually went.
Just hearing it was impressive enough!
Even now, many people genuinely believed that Isshin's current strength probably could no longer compare with the battlefield legend Higashino Shinichi had become.
But the fact that he had fought the Shinichi of several months ago to a draw was proof enough.
Even if he had fallen behind since then...
Surely the gap couldn't be that large.
Driven by that curiosity and anticipation, countless spectators—as well as intelligence agents from several other shinobi villages—had all fixed their eyes on the tall, uninhibited young man standing in the arena.
"So that's Isshin?"
From the viewing platform, Mifune studied the young man carrying the halberd across his shoulder for quite some time before turning to Rokuruma with a smile.
"Rokuruma-sama, the lad certainly cuts an impressive figure. More importantly, he carries himself with remarkable presence."
He had only seen photographs of Isshin before and had known the boy was handsome.
But seeing him in person today, he found the real thing even more striking than the photographs.
Though his posture was relaxed and he radiated an untamed, free-spirited air, he somehow possessed an indescribable aura all his own.
Even someone like Mifune, who had met countless outstanding warriors throughout his life, had found himself instinctively taking a liking to the young man the moment he laid eyes on him.
As Mifune spoke, the referee below raised his right hand high into the air and loudly announced the start of the match.
"He certainly is a fine young man. He—"
Rokuruma nodded and had just begun to respond.
At that very instant—
It sounded as though thousands of birds had shrieked in unison.
An earsplitting burst of crackling electricity exploded across the arena, swallowing the rest of Rokuruma's sentence whole.
A blinding blue-white flash of lightning erupted from the tournament platform!
Mifune and Rokuruma's eyes widened simultaneously as they shot to their feet.
Not just the two of them.
The row of attendants behind them, along with the sea of spectators filling the stands, all leapt to their feet at the same moment, every eye snapping toward the source of the commotion.
Isshin's opponent had already been blasted off the arena and landed flat on his back outside the ring.
His body twitched uncontrollably, every strand of hair standing on end. It was obvious he still hadn't understood what had just happened.
The only one left standing on the platform was the young man holding a long sword while casually resting a halberd across his shoulder.
He looked as bored as ever.
Even his stance hadn't changed from when the match had begun.
The only difference was that dazzling blue-white lightning now surged around him.
Countless fine arcs of electricity danced like frenzied silver serpents, weaving together into a majestic suit of lightning armor that made him look like a war god descended from the storm itself.
Most of the audience had risen to their feet simply because they had been completely stunned by what they had witnessed.
The referee had only just announced the start of the match.
Less than a second later...
It was already over.
They hadn't even seen how Isshin had drawn his sword.
At best, they had caught a glimpse of a flash of lightning—
And then the other man was airborne.
But the real reason Mifune, Rokuruma, and the handful of seasoned sword masters in the stands had all changed expression at the same time was...
Lightning Release Nintaijutsu!
The closely guarded secret of Kumogakure.
The signature technique of the Yotsuki Clan!
How could this swordsman named Isshin use Lightning Release Nintaijutsu?!
Could he actually be a member of the Yotsuki Clan?
Mifune and Rokuruma exchanged glances, each seeing the same shock and doubt reflected in the other's eyes.
"Referee."
Inside the arena, Isshin let out a yawn.
With a flick of his wrist, he sheathed his sword, then turned toward the referee, who still stood frozen in place as though his mind hadn't caught up with reality.
In a lazy tone, he asked, "Can you announce the result now?"
"Ah...! R-Right!"
The referee finally snapped back to his senses.
Giving Isshin a complicated look, he took a deep breath and loudly declared, "The winner... Ashina-ryū Isshin!"
Hearing that, Isshin rested his halberd back across his shoulder and turned to leave the arena.
"Isshin-dono, if you would please wait a moment."
A steady voice suddenly called out from the VIP platform.
The speaker was none other than the current General of the Land of Iron—
Mifune.
Isshin stopped and glanced over his shoulder toward the platform.
"What is it, General?"
Quite a few people frowned the moment those words left his mouth.
Below the stands, Yagyū Sōichirō—who had been anxiously watching everything unfold—nearly jumped out of his skin.
You little brat!
How are you still like this?!
That's General Mifune up there!
The least you could do is sound a little more respectful!
Mifune, however, didn't mind in the slightest.
In a deep voice, he asked, "Isshin-dono, before coming to the Land of Iron, were you perhaps from the Land of Lightning? And where exactly did you learn Lightning Release Nintaijutsu?"
"I have nothing whatsoever to do with the Yotsuki Clan, General."
Isshin raised an eyebrow slightly.
He immediately exposed the unspoken implication behind Mifune's question before continuing, "As for Lightning Release Nintaijutsu... Yotsuki A can use it, but I can't? If Higashino Shinichi can create Fire Release Nintaijutsu, why can't I, Ashina Isshin, create Lightning Release Nintaijutsu?"
As he spoke, his gaze slowly swept across the entire arena.
It passed over the spectators wearing every imaginable expression.
It swept across the grim-faced samurai gathered around the ring.
Finally, his eyes returned to Mifune.
His gaze burned with confidence as a grin spread across his face.
"What I'm trying to say is..."
"I, Ashina Isshin, have never been inferior to anyone!"
What a declaration.
Mifune's eyes narrowed slightly.
Within the young man's gaze, he saw an undisguised hunger for battle.
It was as though none of the swordsmen competing in this tournament were even worth his attention.
The person he truly wanted to challenge...
Was Mifune himself—the current General of the Land of Iron.
This kid...
He actually wants to challenge me?
So his reputation as a battle maniac really isn't exaggerated.
Not only was Mifune completely unoffended—
He actually felt even more at ease.
That inexplicable fondness he had felt toward Isshin only grew stronger.
Thinking it over, he found it unlikely that Isshin had any connection to the Yotsuki Clan.
After all, every member of that clan was a towering, dark-skinned giant.
The young man before him, however, had smooth fair skin, refined features, and a tall yet well-proportioned build that couldn't have been more different from the Yotsuki Clan's distinctive appearance.
Besides, when Isshin had just mentioned the hereditary name "A," borne by successive Raikage, there hadn't been the slightest hint of respect in his tone.
Clearly, he wasn't one of them.
Just as Isshin himself had said—
If Higashino Shinichi could create Fire Release Nintaijutsu...
Why couldn't Ashina Isshin create Lightning Release Nintaijutsu?
After all, during their battle in Konoha's arena last year, wasn't it more than just a clash of weapons?
It had also been a battle between fire...
And lightning.
The thought flashed through Mifune's mind.
A smile appeared on his face as he said, "Of course you can. We samurai should possess exactly that kind of ambition—not to fall behind anyone else. Isshin-dono, go and get some rest. Over the next few days... I look forward to seeing what you'll accomplish."
Isshin cupped his hands in salute, his manner as casual as ever.
Then, beneath the countless gazes fixed upon him, he carried the halberd over his shoulder and slowly walked off the arena.
Yet the stir he had caused did not fade with his departure.
That very afternoon, the news spread through the shinobi world like wildfire driven by a gale.
"Land of Iron swordsman Isshin creates Lightning Release Nintaijutsu!"
"Months after the Konoha Arena, Isshin unveils his Lightning Release secret art again—defeats his opponent in seconds!"
"Creator of Lightning Release Nintaijutsu appears in the Land of Iron! None other than Ashina-ryū Isshin, the man who once fought Higashino Shinichi to a draw!"
"Destined rivals? Fire and Lightning—which one will ultimately become the strongest in the shinobi world?"
Every major shinobi village's intelligence division was shaken upon receiving the news.
And among the Five Great Shinobi Villages—
The one that reacted most violently was, without question...
Kumogakure of the Land of Lightning.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---