"It's breathing."
Mifune closed his eyes, his right hand tightening around the hilt of his blade.
Hanzo of the Salamander stood atop Ibuse's massive head, gazing down at the samurai with a puzzled expression. Had he given up? Was he choosing death instead of resistance?
Hanzo shook his head in disappointment. So this was all the samurai had after all.
His thoughts drifted back across his own life—surviving countless battles, growing stronger through blood and fire, rising from a nameless soldier to the feared Demigod of the Shinobi World.
Talent had played its part, yes. Luck as well.
But more than anything, it was perseverance.
The weak could never reach the summit. They lacked the will to endure.
"Enough. Finish him, Ibuse."
Hanzo lost his patience.
The massive summoning beast shifted its colossal body forward. Its heavy tail slammed against the waterfall cliff beside them, and one enormous webbed limb rose high into the air.
If it fell, Mifune would be crushed into pulp.
But the expected scene never came.
A flash of golden lightning tore through the air—
Slash!
Ibuse's massive limb was severed cleanly in an instant.
"What?!"
Hanzo hadn't even realized what had happened.
The samurai who had stood before him was gone.
In his place—a blur of motion, streaked with brilliant golden arcs of lightning, tearing through the forest like thunder itself.
It was that samurai!
Only now did Hanzo realize his mistake.
He had underestimated his opponent.
Throughout his life, Hanzo had never once underestimated an enemy. Whether facing Konoha's Sannin or the strongest shinobi of other nations, he always fought at full strength.
And yet—
This man had slipped past him.
"Thunder Breathing – First Form: Thunderclap and Flash, Sixteenfold!"
Mifune vanished again.
To Hanzo, it was as if a ghost from the legends of the Land of Rain had appeared—
a spirit said to wander the storm, drowning victims beneath endless rainfall, its form flickering between reality and illusion.
Mifune became that phantom.
His blade fell like rain itself—relentless, merciless.
In a single instant, Ibuse's massive body collapsed to the ground. Its limbs were severed, toxic blood spilling across the forest floor as purple fumes mixed with red-stained soil.
One hundred meters away, Mifune stood tall.
Lightning flickered in his eyes.
"You've lost, Hanzo of the Salamander!"
"Leave this land at once!"
His voice rang out—calm, yet resolute.
Hanzo knelt beside his wounded summon, placing a hand against its trembling body as it released a low, mournful cry. Slowly, he raised his head.
"That technique you used just now…"
"What was it?"
Never before had he seen power like this—
no chakra, yet something that rivaled Lightning Release itself.
Mifune did not answer directly.
"This world does not belong to shinobi alone," he said coldly.
"Samurai have their place as well."
He raised his blade slightly.
"Leave. If you don't—then even if it costs me my life, I'll cut you down."
Hanzo stared at him for a long moment.
Then, silently, he released the summoning.
Ibuse vanished in smoke.
The legendary shinobi turned away, his back rigid as he departed.
Only then did Mifune collapse.
Blood poured from his mouth as his strength finally gave out. He fell onto the cold stone, the waterfall resuming its flow above him, droplets splashing against his armor.
He tried to move.
His body refused.
The breathing technique demanded immense physical endurance.
Mifune was strong—but Hanzo is stronger.
He exhaled slowly, feeling thankful to the gods.
If Hanzo had stayed…
He's a goner for sure.
---
Elsewhere…
Swish!
"Omi Style: Single Flash Slash!"
The Ame ninja's forehead protector split in two as blood sprayed across his face.
"Fire Style: Flame Hurricane!"
Omisako raised her blade in panic, unleashing a spiraling column of fire. The flames swallowed her opponent whole.
The Ame ninja sneered, unfazed by the death of his companion.
Then—
"Mifune Style: Divine Severance!"
A blade of pure force cut straight through the firestorm.
The Ame ninja's grin froze.
A young boy stepped forward, sword drawn.
His forehead bore a faint flame-shaped mark.
"A kid…?" the Ame ninja whispered in disbelief.
He suddenly remembered the rumors.
The ones whispered by survivors.
"Watch out for a boy with a flame mark on his forehead… He's a goddamn monster."
They laughed it off.
But now—
The Ame ninja's blood ran cold.
"Retreat! Fall back!"
The order spread instantly.
In moments, the Ame ninja squad vanished, retreating as fast as they could.
"Tch… they ran fast," the boy muttered.
"No matter. Lucky for them."
He sheathed his blade calmly.
"If I hadn't shown up," another voice said, clapping him on the shoulder, "you'd be lying in a medical tent right now."
The speaker—Yoshitoki—grimaced slightly. Both he and the boy bore wounds. Though the Ame ninja weren't strong individually, their numbers and harassment tactics had worn them down.
The once-peaceful town of Matsuo had already evacuated half its civilians. With ninja battles breaking out frequently, no one could guarantee civilian safety—even with Yoriichi present.
"Seriously… thank goodness you showed up," Omisako sighed, patting her chest in relief.
That fire attack had nearly hit her face.
If not for Yoriichi's blade, she would've been scarred for life.
She was, after all, a merchant family's daughter. Swordsmanship was merely a hobby—a way to prove she wasn't weak.
Her so-called "Ōmi Style" was little more than a renamed collection of techniques she'd learned from hired instructors.
Yoriichi, meanwhile, was being mercilessly pinched and tugged at, his face pulled like dough—
Until Taitō grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back toward their house.
The boy barely had time to protest.