Chapter 410: The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist Resurrected
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed through the dense, suffocating fog. The mist clung to the trees like a shroud, chilling the blood of the Konoha shinobi trapped within it.
Along with the rhythmic tread of sandals against the damp earth, a raspy, playful voice drifted through the white veil.
"Are the Konoha ninjas nowadays all so loud?"
A low chuckle followed. "They really have no manners at all."
The thick mist churned, parting like a curtain. Five silhouettes slowly materialized from the gloom.
When Shimada Murai, the captain of the Konoha patrol, finally saw their attire and the unnatural, ash-flaking cracks lining their skin, all the color drained from his face. A strangled cry tore from his throat.
"These are... the former Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist!"
Stepping into the clearing was a tall, unnervingly thin man. A white Anbu-style mask obscured his lower face, and his pale fingers casually twirled a long, slender blade that resembled an oversized sewing needle.
This was the Longsword: Nuibari. And its wielder was the infamous Kuriarare Kushimaru.
Beside him stood a rugged, middle-aged man with dark sclera and dead eyes. In his hands, he hefted a massive, brutal combination of a giant hammer and a heavy axe.
The Blunt Sword: Kabutowari. Wielded by Jinin Akebino.
To his right was a man with a black cloth wrapped tightly over his left eye. He carried a large, scroll-like broadsword layered thick with explosive tags, the paper rustling softly in the damp air.
The Blastsword: Shibuki. Carried by Munashi Jinpachi.
Perched lightly on a thick tree branch above them was a fierce-looking kunoichi. Sparks of untamed lightning danced across the twin, curved blades she held in a reverse grip.
The Thunderswords: Kiba. Wielded by Ameyuri Ringo.
And bringing up the rear was a man built like a mountain of flesh. Long, wild orange hair cascaded down his back, and sharp green stripes were painted across his cheeks. Resting against his massive shoulder was a terrifying, scale-wrapped monstrosity of a weapon.
The previous master of the Greatsword: Samehada, Suikazan Fuguki.
"Hehehe..."
Munashi Jinpachi let out a piercing, erratic laugh. He rested the explosive edge of Shibuki against his shoulder, his single visible eye gleaming with a bloodthirsty, manic light.
"It has been a long time since I have been out to stretch my limbs," Jinpachi sneered. "I did not expect to run into so many Konoha cuties today."
Kuriarare Kushimaru raised Nuibari, brandishing the needle-like blade lightly in the air. The razor-thin steel wire threaded through its eye caught the faint light, slicing a cold, almost invisible flash through the mist.
"Just as well," Kushimaru murmured, his voice muffled by his mask. "My Nuibari is already itching with hunger. Sewing you all together... it will surely make for a perfect work of art, would it not?"
Before his raspy voice even faded into the fog, Kushimaru vanished.
He was entirely too fast. Shimada Murai only registered a vague blur of motion.
A sickening, wet thud echoed through the clearing. A Konoha ninja standing just yards away looked down in shock as the tip of a needle-thin blade erupted from his chest.
"Ugh..." The shinobi coughed up a mouthful of dark blood, his eyes rolling back.
But before his lifeless body could even hit the ground, the sharp, metallic twang of a steel wire being pulled taut rang out.
Puchi! Puchi!
Two more Konoha shinobi, who had instinctively lunged forward to support their fallen comrade, froze in mid-air. The invisible steel wire had already looped and pierced straight through their torsos.
"Dance!" Kushimaru commanded, giving the wire a violent, vicious tug.
"Aaaargh—!"
The three Konoha ninjas were forcibly yanked together, their bodies colliding with a horrific crunch. They hung suspended in the air like grasshoppers strung on a fishing line, a torrential spray of crimson painting the white mist red.
"What a wonderful sound." Kushimaru closed his eyes, taking a deep, intoxicated breath of the copper-scented air. "This is the melody of death."
"Damn it! You bastard!"
Murai's eyes turned completely bloodshot. Grief and rage overrode his fear. He drew a kunai, his knuckles turning white, fully prepared to charge forward and throw his life away in a desperate bid for vengeance.
But in the very next second, a shadow eclipsed the sky above him.
A giant hammer descended with the force of a falling meteor, slamming heavily into the earth mere inches from Murai's feet. The ground violently cracked and shattered, sending massive chunks of rock flying. The terrifying shockwave caught Murai squarely in the chest, launching him backward like a broken doll.
Jinin Akebino walked over leisurely, dragging his giant axe behind him, the metal scraping ominously against the broken stone.
"Do not be in such a hurry," Jinin grunted, his dead eyes locking onto the struggling captain. "Your bones look quite tough. They should be able to withstand a few hits from my Kabutowari. Let me shatter your defense along with your bones!"
On the opposite side of the clearing, Suikazan Fuguki watched the slaughter with heavy-lidded boredom.
"Too weak," Fuguki rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the mist. "It is a complete waste of time. Is Konoha entirely out of capable people?"
Watching his subordinates fall one by one, their blood soaking the earth, Murai's mental fortitude completely shattered. He lay in the dirt, gasping for air, his kunai slipping from his trembling fingers.
Jinin Akebino stood over him, raising the giant hammer of Kabutowari high into the air, preparing to deliver the final, crushing blow to the Konoha captain's skull.
Then, the air pressure shifted.
A violent, roaring green whirlwind tore through the thick mist without a single warning. The sheer force of the gale scattered the fog, revealing a blur of motion descending from the canopy.
Accompanying the wind was a roar so loud, so filled with absolute, hot-blooded passion, that it shook the very leaves on the trees.
"Konoha—Strong Whirlwind!!!"
A dull, bone-rattling thud echoed across the battlefield.
The previously arrogant Jinin Akebino suddenly felt an irresistible, crushing force slam square into his face. The impact warped his jaw and sent him flying backward like a cannonball fired at point-blank range.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Jinin smashed straight through three thick tree trunks, splintering them into toothpicks, before violently plowing into the dirt. A massive cloud of dust and debris billowed into the air, completely obscuring his landing zone.
Within that swirling cloud of dust, a figure slowly touched down onto the battlefield.
A perfectly shiny, polished bowl cut.
Thick, intensely dark eyebrows.
And a blindingly bright green jumpsuit.
Might Guy stood tall, throwing a confident thumbs-up toward the stunned Konoha survivors. His teeth flashed with a literal, dazzling glint.
"Konoha's Noble Blue Beast—" Guy announced, his voice booming with absolute certainty. "Might Guy! Has arrived!"
Behind him, the mist parted further. Over a dozen elite shinobi wearing standard Konoha flak jackets pierced into the battlefield like a volley of swords. They moved with practiced efficiency, instantly forming a defensive perimeter and shielding the surviving wounded.
"Guy... Jonin Guy!" Murai stared at that broad, green back, hot tears instantly welling up in his eyes and streaming down his dirt-streaked face.
They were saved. They were actually saved.
However, on the other side of the clearing, the atmosphere underwent a drastic, chilling shift.
After getting a clear look at Might Guy's attire, the air among the undead Swordsmen suddenly became eerily quiet. The sadistic laughter died in their throats. Their dark, cracked eyes were entirely fixed on that ridiculous green jumpsuit.
A long-buried memory—one deeply stained with unimaginable humiliation, overwhelming heat, and primal fear—suddenly assaulted their minds.
"Those clothes..." Munashi Jinpachi muttered, the eyelid of his single eye twitching violently.
"That hair..." The Longsword Nuibari in Kuriarare Kushimaru's hand actually trembled, the wire going slack for the first time.
Even Jinin Akebino, who was currently crawling out of his crater with half of his shattered face slowly regenerating into paper-like ash, stared at the green figure with absolute disbelief.
"Hey..." Suikazan Fuguki spoke, his normally booming voice suddenly sounding incredibly dry. "Do you guys remember... that guy from back then?"
Hearing the whispers, Might Guy turned around.
He looked at the bizarre, ash-skinned group standing before him. His thick brow furrowed deeply, his face twisting into an expression of intense, righteous concentration. He crossed his arms, tapping his chin as if trying incredibly hard to dig up a lost memory.
"You guys..." Guy squinted. "You look a bit familiar."
"Familiar?" Jinpachi snapped out of his stupor, replacing his lingering dread with a furious sneer. He took a heavy step forward, resting the explosive Shibuki back on his shoulder. "Of course we are familiar."
Jinpachi spat on the ground. "Brat, it seems you really do not remember us. Then again... back then, you were just a pathetic little brat who only knew how to stand there and cry."
The trademark, goofy smile vanished from Might Guy's face.
It did not fade slowly. It was wiped away in an instant, replaced by a cold, terrifying stillness. The air around the Blue Beast grew heavy, radiating a mountain-like, oppressive pressure that made the surrounding mist physically recoil.
Guy slowly uncrossed his arms, his dark eyes sweeping over the four undead monsters standing before him.
"I remember now."
Guy suffered from severe face blindness. He routinely forgot the names and faces of opponents he had fought just days prior. But there was one memory burned into his soul. He would never, ever forget the faces of the enemies his father had burned his own life away to defeat. The men his father had died to protect him from.
"So it is you guys," Guy said, his voice dropping to a frighteningly calm, measured tone.
"Remembered?" Jinpachi hoisted the Blastsword higher, his remaining eye flashing with cruel mockery. "Good that you remember. That pathetic Genin named Might Duy risked his miserable life just to take a few of us down."
Jinpachi leaned forward, a twisted grin stretching across his cracked face. "What? Do you want to follow his lead and burn your life away to entertain us too?"
Beside him, Kushimaru let out a sinister, muffled laugh. The Longsword Nuibari began spinning nimbly between his pale fingers once more.
"Stop wasting words with him," Kushimaru hissed. "Let us sew him up and hang him from a tree like a Teru Teru Bozu."
The group of Swordsmen threw their heads back and laughed wildly, their voices echoing with unrestrained arrogance.
In their eyes, Might Guy was nothing more than a clown wearing a ridiculous green jumpsuit. Even if he was the son of that monster Might Duy, they were currently inhabiting Edo Tensei bodies. They were immortal, unkillable existences.
Even if this brat possessed some decent foundation in Taijutsu, what could he possibly do to them?
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