That night, at the Yūhi residence.
Warm lighting illuminated the cozy living room. Yūhi Kurenai helped her father brew tea and placed it on the low table in front of him, while she knelt beside him, looking somewhat preoccupied.
"Dad," she spoke softly, breaking the brief silence.
"Hm?" Yūhi Shinku set down the scroll in his hand and looked at his daughter. He had eyes the same crimson shade as Kurenai's, though deeper and steadier, with a gentle and restrained demeanor.
"Tomorrow… are you going to spar with that samurai from the Land of Iron?" Kurenai asked. Although the news had not yet been officially announced, the sudden visit from an ANBU earlier had given her a vague guess.
Shinku nodded slightly, not denying it. "The Hokage has already given the order."
Kurenai opened her mouth. She had originally intended to habitually remark, "That samurai is too despicable," but Isshin's words from earlier that day—about life and death on the battlefield and the shackles of the weak—unexpectedly echoed in her mind.
She found that she could no longer simply label him as "despicable" like ordinary villagers did.
Moreover, as a ninja, she suddenly realized that her earlier instinctive judgment had been influenced by his identity as a samurai—she had assumed he would follow the rigid codes of bushidō.
In the end, she swallowed the words at the tip of her tongue and turned them into a simple reminder: "Please be careful."
Shinku was slightly taken aback. He keenly sensed the complexity in his daughter's tone—it was not just worry, but something more.
He smiled gently, reached out, and ruffled Kurenai's hair. His voice was calm and reassuring.
"Don't worry."
Looking at her father's steady and confident expression, the unease in Kurenai's heart gradually settled. She nodded and said no more.
...
"Too despicable! Absolutely too despicable!"
At Tsunade's residence, Shizune's indignant voice broke the quiet of the night.
"Tsunade-sama, you really missed out by not going today!"
Although Tsunade was Team Ten's instructor, Shizune still habitually addressed her as "Tsunade-sama" in private.
Shizune's cheeks were flushed from excitement and from hurrying back, her eyes wide as she spoke: "That samurai from the Land of Iron—he actually used a firearm during the match! Against Jōnin Kawano, he just started shooting! What is that supposed to be?!"
"Kawano-senpai respected his identity as a samurai and tried to spar with him using swordsmanship. Even when he used ninjutsu, he did it openly and fairly! But what did that guy do? He fired while the other wasn't prepared! That's not a match at all—that's a sneak attack, that's cheating!"
Tsunade leaned lazily against the window, holding a small bottle of sake, pouring and drinking for herself. Moonlight filtered through the window lattice, casting a glow over her golden hair.
Hearing Shizune's rapid-fire complaints, she tilted her head slightly, a faint smile curling at her lips. Her brown eyes were filled with amusement.
Tsunade didn't interrupt. She simply listened as Shizune, in her righteous indignation, vividly—and somewhat exaggeratedly—recounted what had happened that afternoon at the Third Training Ground.
"He even said something like 'everything in the world can be a sword, and being bound by form is the shackle of the weak'! That's just twisted logic! It's just an excuse to justify his despicable methods! If victory has to be achieved like that, what meaning does it even have?!"
Watching Shizune's adorable expression as her worldview took a hit, Tsunade finally couldn't hold back a soft laugh. She tilted her head back and drained the remaining sake in her cup, the amber liquid catching a glimmer of moonlight.
"Finished?" Tsunade set down the cup, her voice tinged with a slight drunken haze and her usual lazy huskiness.
"Tsunade-sama!" Seeing her actually laugh made Shizune even more dissatisfied. "You're still laughing! That samurai was really too much! Kurenai and Shinichi also felt something was wrong at the time!"
"Is that so? Don't forget, Shizune-chan—you're a ninja now," Tsunade said calmly.
'Right… I'm a ninja. What right do I have to call someone's methods despicable?'
Shizune fell silent at once. She suddenly realized that during the match earlier, the ones who had angrily spoken out were mostly ordinary villagers—and young, hot-blooded ninja like herself.
The older, more experienced ninja had worn serious expressions, but seemed unsurprised.
Still unwilling to concede, Shizune muttered, "But he's a samurai… Using methods like that to win—no matter how you look at it, it's still too much, isn't it?"
"Too much? Maybe," Tsunade replied noncommittally, raising a brow. She shifted into a more comfortable position, her gaze drifting toward the quiet night outside the window.
"But, Shizune-chan, there's one thing that samurai got right: on the battlefield, in order to achieve your goal—to survive—you shouldn't impose limits on yourself. Ninjutsu, genjutsu, taijutsu, poison, traps, explosive tags…"
Tsunade's voice paused there. A certain word seemed to stir a memory in her eyes, dimming them briefly, though she quickly masked it and returned to a calm tone.
"In short, in a life-or-death struggle, whatever method allows you and your comrades to survive—that's a good method."
"That samurai's philosophy is extreme—dangerous, even. But if you completely reject it, then one day, on a real battlefield, you might pay a price you can't afford. Because the enemies you face in real war will be even more unscrupulous."
"This kind of 'by any means necessary' mindset might be an outlier among samurai—but in a ninja's way of fighting, it's the norm."
Her voice softened, as if teaching—or perhaps speaking to herself: "What you need to learn is to understand why such thinking exists, and then find your own boundaries and path within it. Know what methods you can use, what lines you must never cross, and for the sake of protecting what truly matters—how far you're willing to go."
Shizune opened her mouth, but in the end, she only nodded silently and did not argue further.
Outside, the lights of Konoha gradually lit up. Beneath the calm night, undercurrents were already gathering for tomorrow's arena.
...
The next day, Konoha's First Arena.
This grand venue—normally only used for major events such as the Chūnin Exam finals—was now packed to the brim. The seats in the circular stands were nearly full, and the noise surged like a boiling sea.
Unlike the casual spectators at the training ground the day before, most of the villagers present today had come with a clear purpose.
They wanted to personally witness how that arrogant, unscrupulous samurai from the Land of Iron would be humiliated and defeated by Konoha's true elite.
The air was filled with heat and a near festival-like excitement—except the theme of this "festival" was the anticipation of an unquestionable victory to wash away yesterday's frustration.
On the VIP viewing platform, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, stood calmly by the railing in his Hokage robes, overlooking the dense crowd below and the empty arena center. His expression carried his usual gentle smile.
Beside him stood the two Hokage advisors, Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu.
"At a time like this, letting the village liven up a bit, divert attention, and ease the recent tension… isn't a bad thing," Hiruzen said with a smile, his gaze still on the field.
Homura adjusted his glasses, expression unchanged, and simply gave a slight nod in understanding.
Koharu, however, looked noticeably displeased. Her brows were slightly furrowed—she was clearly dissatisfied with that erratic samurai from the Land of Iron who had stirred up such an uproar in the village.
What bothered her even more was that Hiruzen had not kept things low-profile. Instead, he had taken advantage of the situation to create an even bigger spectacle, effectively building a stage for the man to gain fame.
"Koharu, don't keep such a long face. Hiruzen doesn't have many options here. Look—at least it's lively, isn't it?" Homura said with a smile.
Koharu's lips moved slightly. In the end, she only let out a soft snort and did not object.
After thinking it through, she also understood Hiruzen's difficulties and considerations.
The other party was a legitimate client who had submitted a formal commission and paid a large deposit. The contract clearly stated: "no restrictions on methods" and "any opponent welcome."
Konoha could have refused the mission—but since they had accepted it, if their people lost and were humiliated, then it was simply a matter of lacking skill.
What, were they supposed to kill the client just because he was too strong?
Konoha certainly had the strength to do so—but what would that make them?
Who would dare entrust them with missions in the future?
Their credibility would collapse completely, and the consequences would be far worse than losing a few matches.
So, despite her dissatisfaction—despite feeling that the samurai had made Konoha lose face—the best course of action right now was indeed the one Hiruzen had chosen.
Use a more formal, impeccable setting, and in full view of the public, rely on Konoha's true strength to resolve this troublesome challenge cleanly and decisively.
That way, they could restore their reputation, reinforce their authority, secure the remaining mission payment—and, at the same time, give a wake-up call to those in the village who had grown complacent during times of peace.
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