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Chapter 139n
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 15:55:23 +0000 UTCChapter 139n
2-in-1-chapter
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“Your short sword was broken anyway, so take this Kusanagi Sword as its replacement.”
Rēn turned the Kusanagi Sword: Blade of the Sky over in his hands, playing with it for a moment before erasing his own control over the weapon. He then handed it back to Shisui. “I have already removed Orochimaru’s summoning imprint from this sword. All you need to do is establish a new summoning link with it, and you will gain complete control.”
Ninja tools could also form summoning contracts.
A classic example was Kirigakure’s Seven Ninja Swordsmen. Hōzuki Mangetsu possessed a summoning scroll capable of calling forth all seven blades. His title of “prodigy” was closely tied to the Seven Swords. When he was around seven years old he had already been discovered to wield all seven with ease. Even Samehada, the most particular of them all, submitted obediently to his command.
For that reason, the shinobi of the Mist called him “the prodigy beloved by the blades.”
Of course, unlike the summoning contracts of beasts, the contracts with ninja tools were unusual, far less widespread and common. Even the term “common” was relative; in the shinobi world, any ninja capable of using summoning techniques was already considered exceptional.
The Uchiha clan, naturally, did not lack for the art of binding contracts with weapons.
Even if Shisui himself had never studied such techniques, Rēn was without doubt an expert in the field.
“Rēn, if you like this sort of special weapon, then keep it. I am accustomed to short swords anyway. This Kusanagi is too long for me.”
Shisui looked at the hilt being offered but did not take it.
On the matter of Rēn’s fondness for unique weapons, Shisui had no doubts. He had once hidden away Samehada, and after recovering the clan’s lost treasure, the Uchia fan, he had almost never let it out of his hands. Anyone could see how much the clan head valued it.
And after this secret mission, Shisui believed it even more firmly. That was why he had sealed the Kusanagi Sword: Blade of the Sky and brought it back together with Kimimaro. The mission to retrieve the Six Path Tools had failed, but it was better to return with something than with nothing.
“Stop with this nonsense. You can tell that to those fools if you like, but don’t try it with me. Since when has Uchiha-ryū swordsmanship ever been limited by the length of the blade? Short swords, long swords, greatswords—it all depends on the wielder. I don’t recall Uchiha-ryū ever dividing its techniques by weapon length.”
Rēn pressed the Blade firmly into Shisui’s hands.
Did he like the sword? Of course he did. But liking a weapon did not mean he had to keep it. With the Uchia Fan in hand, Samehada had already become little more than a chakra battery. A blade such as the Kusanagi Sword, which held no special supportive ability beyond battle, would only gather dust in his possession.
His greatest purpose in collecting the Six Path Tools was not combat, but research.
To leave the Kusanagi Sword on a shelf in his study was a waste.
Rather than let such a famed weapon go unused, it was better to give it to Shisui. As one of only two within the clan known to have awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, Shisui was the second strongest among the Uchiha after Rēn himself. It was foreseeable that in many cases, Shisui would act in place of the clan head, who could not always take the field personally.
A fine horse required a fine saddle, and a peerless talent like Shisui should be equipped with a weapon of equal stature.
“But…”
“Enough. There is no but. This is an order from your clan head. Instead of wasting breath arguing, focus on how you can best integrate the Blade of the Sky into your fighting style.”
Rēn’s unyielding tone left Shisui no room to argue.
He could only accept the Kusanagi Sword, measuring nearly 1.1 meters in length, and began thinking with some headache about how to make full use of it. His accustomed short sword had only been about 60 cm.
Quietly, he acknowledged that he would need to devote time to reshaping his style.
“By the way, Shisui—do you know the summoning art for contracting weapons?”
Rēn had not forgotten.
“No. I have never studied it,” Shisui admitted honestly, shaking his head.
“Then that is fine. Go rest first. Best to find a medical ninja to check the wound on your shoulder—don’t risk leaving any aftereffects. I will write out the special summoning technique for binding ninja tools later and give it to you. I don’t have a scroll prepared at hand.”
“There’s no rush. In my current state I can’t practice swordsmanship anyway.”
Shisui was in no hurry. As Rēn had said, Uchiha-ryū swordsmanship, honed by countless generations over a thousand years, was not constrained by the length or shape of a weapon. So long as it was not something absurd, like a one-legged bronze idol, even a kunai could serve in training. With the Sharingan, the style could manifest its true power.
But changing battle styles was not something accomplished in an instant. Even with Shisui’s talent, adapting fully to a new weapon would take time.
With the Kusanagi Sword in his left hand, Shisui turned to leave.
Yet as he reached the doorway, Rēn called out to him, having noticed something amiss. “Wait, Shisui—aren’t you forgetting something?”
“…No, I didn’t.”
Shisui shook his head in denial, his steps carrying him steadily toward the door. One foot had already crossed the threshold when a long, gourd-shaped war fan swung into place, blocking the doorway and cutting off his path to the corridor.
“Shisui, carelessness is not the conduct befitting a shinobi. Look there, on the sofa—don’t you see what you brought back?”
Rēn’s smile was shallow and insincere as he spoke.
On the sofa, Kimimaro was sitting upright with perfect posture.
“Rēn, that child was deceived and brainwashed by Orochimaru. To keep him from straying further down the wrong path, he needs guidance and education.”
“Is that so? Then what exactly do you mean by leaving him in my office?”
“Well… Rēn, you were able to calm even the Nine-Tail’s Jinchūriki. To educate this boy should be nothing more than a simple task for you.” Shisui’s face broke into a gentle, good-natured smile, while Rēn’s nostrils practically smoked with anger.
So that was it—he, the head of the Uchiha clan, was being treated like a kindergarten director? Fujika, Yakumo, and Naruto already gave him more than enough trouble. He had no energy left to look after a fourth child.
“Shisui.”
Rēn placed his hand firmly on Shisui’s shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. “I have an important mission for you.”
“What is it?”
Shisui froze, momentarily at a loss, still wondering what kind of assignment this could be.
“Kimimaro of the Kaguya clan, last surviving descendant to inherit the Shikotsumyaku. The duty of correcting his misguided thinking and guiding him onto the right path will be entrusted to you, Shisui. Remember, this is not only about educating Kimimaro—it is also a test of your own resolve and a chance to temper yourself.”
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“Shikotsumyaku?”
Having just stepped out of Genji’s house, Yagura Karatachi paused on the steps, his temples throbbing as he listened to the newest intelligence reported by the ANBU. “Damn it! Can’t I get a moment’s peace?” One problem after another, grinding him down day by day—at this rate, he doubted he could even make it through the year.
Even as he cursed without naming a target, his feet betrayed his intentions, turning him back toward Genji’s residence.
Inside, Genji was kneeling at a writing table, body bent forward as he ground ink in preparation for calligraphy practice. Yagura repeated the report he had received, then respectfully sought Genji’s counsel. “Genji, what do you think we should do about this?”
“A survivor of the Kaguya clan?”
At the news, Genji’s expression wavered. His mind was pulled back to the time of Kirigakure’s founding, when he, Byakuren, the clan heads of the Terumi, Hōzuki, Yuki, and Kaguya clans had all worked together to build the village.
But after its founding, much like Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama contending for the position of First Hokage, those companions who had once stood united split apart over the seat of the First Mizukage.
Naturally, Genji had supported Byakuren, but the Kaguya clan head refused to concede. Rallying the Yuki and several other clans, he launched an attack against Byakuren. The outcome had been inevitable: Byakuren’s complete victory.
Losing to Madara had not meant that Byakuren was weak—on the contrary, surviving combat against him was proof that Byakuren had been an undeniable powerhouse of his era. The Kaguya head fell before Byakuren, and yet that stubborn battle-madman, unwilling to yield, chose to lead his entire clan out of Kirigakure.
“I never thought… that lunatic’s bloodline had not died out after all.”
Genji let out a quiet sigh.
He set down the ink stick, his blackened fingers rubbing together lightly. Lowering his gaze, he sat in thought for several minutes. Just as Yagura’s patience reached its limit and he was about to press for an answer, Genji finally spoke. “Mizukage-sama, it would be best not to involve ourselves in this matter.”
Yagura said nothing, but the tight furrow of his brow betrayed his unsettled heart.
Not get involved? That was the Shikotsumyaku, a rare and powerful kekkei genkai. How could they possibly ignore it? If they could bring that boy back, the Mist might one day gain a new bloodline inheritance.
“Mizukage-sama, it was our own hands that brought about the Kaguya clan’s extinction. Even if we did bring that child back, how could we possibly guarantee he would not turn against the village in the future?” Genji saw Yagura’s unwillingness clearly.
Of course he too wished that the Kaguya clan might be truly integrated into Kirigakure.
But in life, eight or nine things out of ten never go as one wishes. From the days of Byakuren to the present Fourth Mizukage, the Kaguya had never become part of the village. On the contrary, the discord had grown ever sharper, until coexistence was impossible. The Kaguya were wiped out by Mist shinobi to the last. Had Kimimaro not suddenly appeared, all would have assumed the bloodline extinct.
“The Kaguya clan was never Mist shinobi. Mizukage-sama, what excuse could we even use to demand that Konoha hand their survivor over to us?”
Yagura’s face tightened, his sour mood plain for all to see.
“Mizukage-sama, I understand your desire to reclaim every advantage for the village. But it is precisely at times like this that we must not act rashly. Hunger cannot make us eat anything we find; cold cannot make us wear rags unfit for us. We cannot make that mistake. Right now, the village is like a sick man. If he eats food that is too tough or too spicy, he cannot digest it. If he bites down on iron, he will break his teeth.”
“Even if we set aside what excuse we could use to demand the Kaguya child from Konoha… Mizukage-sama, in the report you received, was it not said that the Konoha shinobi who returned with the boy were wounded?”
