33 Kisame
The forest exploded into motion.
I ripped a kunai free, the explosion tag already burning, and hurled it toward Itachi. The tag flared midair and detonated, fire and splintered bark swallowing the space where he stood. I did not wait to see the result.
"Ninth Cutter," I muttered.
The seal on my wrist pulsed. The sword slid into my palm like it had always belonged there.
"Kakashi," I said, already moving. "You, Shizune, Chiyo, handle Itachi. Kisame is mine."
Kakashi didn't argue. He never did when it mattered.
I launched myself straight at Kisame.
He grinned, wide and feral, dragging Samehada free from his back. "Three years away from the village, brat, and you think you can take me? I'm a master swordsman."
Steel met steel.
The impact rattled my arms as Ninth Cutter clashed against Samehada. Sparks burst between us as we slid past each other, blades screaming. Kisame was strong, monstrously so, every swing carrying weight meant to crush bone. I let him have the rhythm, stepping back, testing angles, learning the bite of his weapon.
For the first minute, I didn't use anything fancy. Just footwork. Just timing. Just the sword.
He noticed.
"You're holding back," Kisame sneered, slamming Samehada into the ground and leaning on it. "You can't beat me like this. I'm the strongest of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. You're not even qualified to fight me."
I laughed.
"Qualified?" I said. "That's cute."
Wind chakra whispered along my blade, invisible but screaming to be unleashed. "I'm an Uzumaki. Seals and blades are in our blood. And you Seven Swordsmen? Every generation of you ends the same way. Dead."
His grin twitched.
I moved.
Wind Style flooded Ninth Cutter. I swung once.
Then again.
Then again.
The air tore itself apart.
Thousands of compressed wind slashes screamed forward, shredding trees, carving the ground, turning the space between us into a storm of invisible blades. Kisame's eyes widened just a fraction before he snapped through hand signs.
"Water Style. Water Wall!"
A massive surge of water erupted in front of him, spiraling into a dense barrier. Wind met water in a thunderous crash. Steam hissed. The forest shook.
I didn't stop.
"Let's see how long you can hide behind it," I said, pouring more chakra in.
The wind sharpened further, cutting deeper, sawing through the wall layer by layer. Kisame growled and slammed Samehada forward, chakra flooding from the blade as it drank greedily from the attack.
"So that's it," he laughed. "This sword eats chakra. Didn't anyone tell you?"
I felt the pull instantly. Samehada tugged at my wind chakra like a starving beast.
Kurama snorted in my head. Amateur mistake, brat.
I smirked. "Who said I was feeding it chakra?"
I shifted.
The wind around Ninth Cutter didn't vanish. It changed.
The chakra circulating through the blade twisted, seals flaring faintly along the metal. What flowed now wasn't just mine.
Kisame's grin faltered.
Samehada recoiled, spasming violently as if it had bitten something poisonous. Kisame cursed, nearly losing his grip as the sword shrieked in protest.
"What the hell did you do?"
I stepped through the collapsing water wall, sand crunching under my feet.
"This blade was forged with something your sword can't stomach," I said calmly. "Try eating that."
I swung.
The wind didn't scatter this time. It focused.
A single, crescent-shaped slash tore forward, screaming like a living thing. Kisame crossed Samehada defensively, but the impact blasted him backward, plowing him through trees and into the ground hard enough to leave a crater.
I landed lightly, blade steady, breath controlled.
Across the clearing, I could feel Kakashi and Itachi clashing, Sharingan chakra warping the air.
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