At this moment, Mifune's sharp gaze lingered on the Chakra Blade at Neji's waist. With curiosity, he asked,
"Brother, are you also skilled in swordsmanship?"
Neji's hand instinctively brushed the hilt. He bowed slightly out of respect and replied, "Senior Mifune, I've only just begun practicing. My skills are shallow at best, hardly worth mentioning."
His tone carried modesty, but also a faint hint of guilt.
After all, the man before him was none other than Mifune—the general of the Land of Iron's samurai. This was the man who, even when resurrected by Impure World Reincarnation, had defeated Hanzo of the Salamander. His swordsmanship stood at the pinnacle of the shinobi world. Though there were many whose overall strength might surpass him, in pure swordplay, those who exceeded Mifune could be counted on one hand—if any at all.
Mifune's lips curved into a faint smile. "Let me see how you've been practicing."
Neji did not refuse. On the contrary, his heart stirred with excitement. If he could receive even a little guidance from such a master, his swordsmanship would improve by leaps and bounds.
After all, in the later stages of the original world's history, the greatest threats came not from ordinary shinobi, but from the celestial Ōtsutsuki. Against them, ninjutsu and genjutsu often lost effectiveness, while taijutsu—pure physical combat—remained one of the few means of inflicting real damage. And swordsmanship, in essence, was also a refined form of taijutsu.
Neji stepped into the courtyard. The silver moon hung in the night sky, casting pale light over the flagstones. Facing the moon, he slowly began to move through his sword forms.
His blade cut arcs through the air, accompanied by the sound of steel slicing wind. His footwork was light yet precise, his breathing steady. For two minutes, he moved in silence, each strike sharper than the last, each step blending the disciplined rhythm of Kumogakure swordplay with the flowing evasiveness of the Hyūga Clan's Gentle Fist footwork.
At last, he came to a stop. With a soft metallic click, he sheathed his blade and turned, standing tall and expectant, awaiting Mifune's judgment.
Mifune's expression was unreadable for a moment, then slightly strange. He finally spoke:
"Brother, your swordsmanship is primarily rooted in Kumogakure's style, but… I also sense the footwork of the Hyūga Clan's Gentle Fist woven into it."
Neji's eyebrows rose. As expected of Mifune—he had seen through it instantly.
It was true. His sword style borrowed heavily from Kumogakure techniques, but he had incorporated elements of Gentle Fist to give it a unique flow. Though still in its early stages, Neji had already gained some small insights. Yet compared to a true master, his path remained long.
Sensing Neji's acknowledgment, Mifune did not press further. Instead, his gaze grew more serious.
"At your age, to have reached this level is already remarkable. But there is one flaw—you wield your blade without conviction. Without it, even endless practice will leave you with nothing more than a dull weapon."
Neji tilted his head slightly. "Conviction?"
"Precisely."
Mifune's eyes softened with memory. His thoughts drifted to that battle long ago, when Hanzo, moments before his death, had spoken to him: 'A person's end is not death itself, but the moment he loses his conviction. Even should you die on the battlefield, if you hold true to conviction, your blade will never dull.'
Those words had remained with Mifune his entire life, driving him to train, to refine, to polish his soul along with his blade.
"The conviction of a blade cannot be taught in words," he continued. "It must be felt. You will understand when your heart grasps it."
Neji fell silent. The words resonated, yet felt frustratingly vague.
Mifune, seeing his struggle, chuckled. "Enough. Allow me to demonstrate. I will perform the sword forms you just displayed. Watch carefully."
Neji's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Senior!"
At once, he activated his Tenseigan, the turquoise brilliance illuminating his vision. He wanted to see everything—chakra flow, movement, and intent.
Mifune drew his katana. Beneath the moonlight, his figure blurred into motion. He executed the same sequence Neji had performed, yet the difference was overwhelming.
[You observed Mifune practicing swordsmanship. Related insights improved. Experience +1]
Through his Tenseigan, Neji noted that Mifune's chakra flow was nothing extraordinary—ordinary even. Yet each strike of the blade carried a power beyond measure. It wasn't simply speed or strength. No—there was something more, an intangible aura of dignity, of unwavering belief.
That aura transformed the technique, elevating it into something transcendent.
"So this is conviction…" Neji whispered inwardly.
A few minutes later, Mifune sheathed his katana in one smooth motion. "This," he said, "is the difference between a blade with conviction and one without."
Neji bowed his head slightly. "Senior Mifune's swordsmanship is astonishing. I feel… an indescribable spiritual will intertwined within it."
Mifune laughed heartily. "Hah! For you to recognize it so soon, your talent is remarkable indeed. That spirit you sense is precisely the conviction of the blade. I believe it won't be long before you comprehend it fully."
"Senior flatters me."
The two continued their discussion late into the night. Neji gained much—more than he had expected.
---
The next day, after sharing a simple lunch, Neji bid farewell to Mifune. With respectful words and a final bow, he departed, hurrying along the road that led back to the Hidden Cloud Village.
By evening, he reached a remote mountain area—desolate, rocky, and quiet. It was the kind of place where no one would notice a murder or a body disposal. Choosing it for his camp, Neji set up his tent.
As was his custom, before sleeping, he sought an open space to practice. His Tenseigan flared, his blade swung through the crisp night air.
[You practiced Tenseigan. Related insights improved. Experience +1]
[You practiced swordsmanship. Related insights improved. Experience +1]
Two hours later, sweat dampened his forehead. Satisfied, Neji sheathed his blade and retreated into his tent.
The night deepened. Silence fell heavy, broken only by the whistle of wind between rocks. Not even insects dared chirp.
Suddenly, Neji's eyes snapped open. His Tenseigan vision revealed masked figures, shadows creeping through the trees, surrounding the camp.
"They're here," he muttered calmly.
His hand reached for his blade.
At that instant, a familiar voice echoed in his mind. "Neji, let me out."
"Wait," he replied mentally.
Drawing a red scroll from his pouch, he spread it open. With practiced movements, he summoned the amber purifying pot. The lid opened, releasing a sphere of light that materialized into Yugito.
With a feline stretch, her fingers extended into sharp claws. She growled irritably, "Four days in that pot! If these fools hadn't come, I'd have gone mad from boredom."
Neji smirked. "Then let's resolve this quickly. Leave none alive."
Lightning crackled in his palm. Yugito's golden eyes gleamed.
The masked figures charged.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
A massive orange-red fireball surged forward, scorching heat washing over the camp. Neji's blade gleamed, wrapped in lightning, and with one heavy slash, he split the fireball in half. Two halves roared past on either side, exploding against the rocks.
A Root ninja appeared before him, kunai flashing toward his throat.
But Yugito was faster. She materialized behind the man, claws piercing his chest clean through. The ninja gasped, blood spilling, and collapsed.
"Target has a helper!" another Root agent shouted.
"Captain's orders are clear—fight to the death, no retreat!"
Figures swarmed from all directions. Neji's Tenseigan picked up over twenty chakra signatures—and more were rushing closer.
"Split the battlefield! Prioritize the Byakugan brat!"
The ground shook violently. Several Root shinobi slammed their hands to the earth.
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Divide!"
Boom!
The terrain rose like waves, six meters high, before splitting down the center, isolating Neji and Yugito into separate battle zones.
"Fire Release: Great Dragon Fire Jutsu!"
"Wind Release: Wind Cutter Jutsu!"
Two Root ninja combined their techniques, hurling roaring flames sharpened by slicing wind at Neji.
The inferno engulfed him—only for his figure to vanish.
Screech! Screech!
The sound of countless birds filled the night. Neji reappeared behind them, blade flashing once.
Pfft!
Both shinobi collapsed, blood pooling beneath their bodies.
"Now!"
Four Root ninja, positioned around him, slammed their hands together.
"Lightning Release: Four Pillar Bind Jutsu!"
Four massive stone pillars surged upward, arcs of lightning crackling between them, forming a cage around Neji.
A green dome of earth descended with a roar—"Earth Release: Dropping Lid!"—slamming down atop the cage.
From outside, the Root ninjas exhaled in relief. "We've got him."
But within, Neji merely raised his gaze. His lips curved. "That move couldn't even suppress the Hellhound. And you think it can hold me?"
Lightning erupted across his body. But unlike before, it was no longer bright azure. Instead, it was dense, ominous black, wrapping him in raw destructive power.
He stepped forward.
The pillars trembled.
Cracks spread like spiderwebs.
And then—
Boom!
The black lightning exploded outward, shattering the stone cage into rubble, tearing through the night like a storm.
The battle had only just begun.
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