Chapter 43 – Konoha Gold (Part 10)
"Will you be the next Hashirama Senju?"
Hōzuki Mangetsu asked quietly, just before making his move.
Minamoto Ren shot him a strange glance. He had noticed this odd quirk in the shinobi of this world—right in the middle of a life-or-death duel, they liked to bring up their ninja way or deliver some grand prophecy.
Still, for a dying man, Ren could spare a few words.
"Hashirama Senju?"
A cold gleam danced along the steel of Jūan as Ren drew it.
"After me, when people speak of the God of Shinobi, there will only be one name."
"Minamoto Ren!" Hōzuki Mangetsu roared his opponent's name.
Clang—Clang—Clang—Clang—Clang!
Steel clashed, sparks scattering into the moonlight.
Beneath the night sky, two shinobi leapt in a deadly waltz—Ren's blade swift as lightning, Mangetsu's twin swords twisting in strange and unpredictable arcs.
Ren tilted his blade to catch and deflect the sweeping strike of Mangetsu's paired swords. The single tomoe of his Sharingan spun smoothly, predicting the next motion before it even began.
Too slow. Too weak.
With every exchange, Ren's movements grew more fluid, more assured. After using the forbidden technique, Mangetsu had lost the oppressive presence he'd held before—now his strikes lacked power, his grip on the blades was so feeble he had to bolster it with chakra. How could such a state match a true master of the blade?
Mangetsu tried to find an opening for hand seals, but Ren never gave him the chance. Why risk dangerous ninjutsu when a clean sword strike could end it?
After all, why had he mastered kenjutsu in the first place? To kill an opponent weaker than himself—quickly, safely, and with certainty.
A thrust flowed into a sweeping draw, pulling Mangetsu's center of gravity forward. Ren's momentum peaked—
In a duel between blades, the outcome was already decided.
One kick sent Mangetsu stumbling forward. Ren followed with a one-handed sealing tag, preventing Mangetsu from using Hydrification to slip away.
A stab to the calf drew a sharp cry of pain. Mangetsu's face went pale as his hands blurred through seals in desperation—
But a horizontal flash of steel severed both arms, along with any hope of escape.
"Wait—I know about Danzō—"
Shhk!
Under the moonlight, the white blade of Jūan gleamed once more, piercing through Mangetsu's neck and releasing a fine crimson mist.
Ren sheathed his sword without a backward glance at the headless corpse.
Forming a seal, he vanished in a flicker. Namikaze Minato had drawn away the other two Jōnin—Ren had to reach him before it was too late.
On the far side of the forest, Minato was cornered by Biwa Jūzō and Jinpachi Munashi, locked in a desperate struggle.
"Desperate" wasn't quite right—it was more like hunters toying with their prey. Two Jōnin against a Chūnin—no matter how much of a prodigy that Chūnin might be—the outcome was inevitable.
Fortunately, Minato was clever. He knew his weakness in close combat; he'd realized that the very day he fought Ren. And the Seven Ninja Swordsmen—each of them could cross blades with Ren as an equal. Minato wouldn't last ten exchanges.
So he stalled. He waited. He used an unending chain of ninjutsu to force them into constant exchanges, hoping that before his chakra ran out, a Konoha ally might arrive.
But something gnawed at him. The Konoha Gold mission had been running for nearly a week, and Konoha had been utterly silent—no rescue, no backup, as if the five hundred million ryō meant nothing to them.
Expressionless behind his sun-marked mask, Minato's chakra reserves finally ran dry.
"This brat's got some stamina… a real Konoha prodigy," Biwa Jūzō muttered, planting his massive beheading sword into the ground. The boy reminded him of Mangetsu in his youth—gifted, sharp, with an arsenal of jutsu far beyond his years.
"Kill him already," Jinpachi growled. "Mangetsu's side is probably done by now. Let's finish this and get back to the Land of Water. We've wasted enough time in Fire Country—at this point, I'm not even sure we can make it out clean."
Jūzō nodded, yanking his blade free from the earth and slinging it over his shoulder as he strode toward Minato.
Namikaze neither turned to flee nor begged for his life.
Instead, he drew a kunai from his side pouch and pressed it against his own throat.
"Second Form — Yokozuna!"
A flawless arc of steel flashed through the air.
Biwa Jūzō reacted quickly, swinging his massive blade with all his strength, knocking aside the thunderous, lightning-fast slash.
"Am I late?"
Minamoto Ren didn't look back, his voice calm as he addressed the man behind him—Minato.
The words were borrowed from the original tale, where Minato had spoken them to his son, Naruto.
Now Ren was taking the line for himself.
Minato froze, lowering the kunai from his neck. His head lifted slightly.
"You came… just in time."
The battle curtain rose once more.
With no chakra left, Minato could only stand by and watch. He had already consumed a large number of soldier pills—no matter how many more he took, they could no longer stir any chakra from his body.
That left Ren—one against two.
To Ren, this was perfectly acceptable. He'd already killed a monster like Hōzuki Mangetsu, who could come back from the dead two or three times. These two clearly weren't on that level—why wouldn't he be able to handle them?
His opponents seemed to realize this as well. Jinpachi reacted first, demanding,
"Where's Mangetsu? Did he leave? Has Konoha's reinforcements arrived?"
Even now, Jinpachi refused to consider the possibility—that the masked Anbu before him had killed Hōzuki Mangetsu.
It was absurd. Mangetsu wasn't just any shinobi—he was the prodigy of the Hōzuki clan, a man they had considered for the position of Mizukage. A warrior who had crawled out of the Bloody Mist… and he was supposed to have died at the hands of an unknown Anbu?
"Oh!" Ren clapped his hands lightly. "So that's his full name—Hōzuki Mangetsu? I knew someone with Hydrification must be a Hōzuki, but I never knew the exact characters. Thanks for clearing that up."
"Yeah, so where is he?"
"Him? Dead. I killed him—one cut to the calf, one to the arms, and the killing blow to the neck. If he can still come back after that, I'll gladly admit defeat."
Ren shrugged and gestured to each wound in turn.
Biwa Jūzō and Jinpachi's pupils contracted sharply.
Their eyes met for a single moment.
"Retreat."
They didn't hesitate. Both Mist shinobi formed seals and vanished.
This wasn't a matter of pride—Mangetsu had been the strongest among them, and if Ren wasn't lying, that meant he was already at Mangetsu's level. Pursuing a Konoha prodigy was Mangetsu's mission, not theirs. Mangetsu was dead, and they weren't suicidal enough to take his place.
Ren and Minato stood in place, neither making a move to pursue.
It was only after their chakra signatures had long faded that Minato's head tilted to the side and he collapsed straight to the ground. Ren didn't look back—he simply sat cross-legged and began restoring his chakra.
Both men were running on fumes. Just moments ago, they had been holding up nothing more than an act.
Luckily, these two members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen were still "normal" Mist shinobi—not the walking calamities like Hōzuki Mangetsu or Kurosuki Raiga.
Sitting on the cool earth, a tired smile curved Ren's lips.
Two against seven.
And they had won.