The hiss of medical equipment filled the private ward at Konoha Hospital.
"The patient's lost too much blood! Get a transfusion going—now!"
"Most of his muscle tissue is shredded. Six puncture wounds. How is he even conscious?"
"Mystical Palm Technique—prepare it!"
Outside the ward, Shibi Aburame stood vigil with several others, the air thick with tension. Anko Mitarashi sat curled against the wall beside the door, hugging her knees, tears streaming down her face.
Shibi crouched beside her, placing a large hand gently on her shoulder. "This isn't your fault, Anko."
"It is!" Her voice cracked. "If I hadn't—"
"You carried him back through the rain despite the danger," Shibi said quietly. "If you hadn't, he wouldn't be here at all." He straightened, his masked face hardening. "The fault lies with me. As his sensei, I wasn't there when my students needed me."
He couldn't shake the image: Anko trembling, mud-caked, stepping through the downpour with Seiran's blood-soaked body in her arms. In all his years as a shinobi, he'd never witnessed anything so brutal.
The injuries had been catastrophic. Frankly, Shibi wasn't sure how Seiran was still alive.
They'd raced back to the Hidden Leaf Village non-stop.
Rin Uchiha stood rigid against the cold wall, staring at nothing. Her hands and feet felt numb.
If you don't make it...
The thought wouldn't leave her.
She hated this feeling. Hated that she hadn't been paired with Seiran that day. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen? The Kaguya clan? She would've torn them apart.
The ward door opened.
"How is he?" All three spoke at once, turning to the medical ninja.
"Critical, but..." The medic paused, frowning. "His body is unusual. It's healing itself actively. In my career, I've never seen a shinobi with such a unique constitution."
"He's going to be okay?" Anko's voice trembled with hope.
"I wouldn't celebrate yet." The medic's expression was grave. "It appears he used some kind of forbidden technique that pushed his body to its limits. Combined with his injuries, there could be permanent side effects."
Anko's chest tightened again.
Rin exhaled slowly. Side effects. I can handle that. I'll just... be there.
"If Tsunade were here, this would be straightforward," the medic sighed.
Shibi's eyes flickered. "I could contact her. She owes me favors."
"Useless." The medic shook his head. "Tsunade has severe hemophobia. She stopped treating patients years ago. It's not widely known."
The three fell silent.
The medic was suddenly pulled aside by a colleague. Their whispered conversation drifted back: "...Lord Third ordered you to spare no expense...understood..."
Shibi and the others exchanged relieved glances.
Then—a commotion from inside the ward.
"He's awake!"
They rushed in.
Seiran's eyes opened, his white Byakugan pupils scanning the room with sharp awareness.
"Seiran." Anko stepped forward, her voice thick with guilt. "I dragged you back—"
"You found your strength," he said weakly, a faint smile crossing his pale face. "That's what matters. Once you understand it, you'll become a great ninja."
Anko's breath caught.
"I brought something back for you." She pulled a fist-sized, silver-white metal sphere from her coat. "You were holding it even when... well, I figured it mattered to you."
Seiran took it, warmth still radiating from the metal. "Perfect."
"What is that thing?" Rin asked, studying the sphere. "It's incredibly heavy. Some kind of chakra metal?"
"You could call it a weapon," Seiran said thoughtfully. "A very powerful one."
Rin's eyes narrowed, intrigued.
Seiran closed his eyes, reaching out with his Electromagnetic Manipulation. The sphere thrummed with response, and his smile widened.
Just as I thought.
Under the surge of electromagnetic power from Tyrant Mode, the metal had transformed. Even without the mode now, he could reshape it at will—sword, shield, whatever he needed. Against Mari Kaguya, he'd learned its true nature.
But this went further. The magnetically fluidized metal—the legendary Executioner's Blade—retained one crucial property: it grew stronger by absorbing blood. The more it killed, the more it drank, the more lethal it became.
A weapon that evolved by feeding on death. Terrifying didn't even begin to cover it.
A hoarse voice came from the doorway.
"I heard young Seiran was gravely injured. Perhaps I can be of service?"
Seiran's head turned. His Byakugan narrowed.
The man in the doorway was pale-skinned, purple eye shadow marking the corners of his eyes, and he was smiling.
Orochimaru.