Chapter 7: A Dance of Sovereigns
The following morning, the mist of Kirigakure seemed to cling with a heavier, more expectant weight. Julius, flanked by the silent figures now known as Dante and Vanica, walked through the village's grim corridors towards the Mizukage's tower. The eyes of every shinobi they passed were filled with suspicion and hostility, but none dared to challenge the Emperor who had supposedly destroyed demons.
They entered Yagura's office without fanfare. The boyish Kage sat upon his chair, his vacant pink eyes fixing on them as they approached.
"Emperor Julius," Yagura began, his voice flat and monotone, "I have compiled a list of known rebel encampments for your forces to—"
"A list will be unnecessary, Lord Mizukage," Julius interrupted, his voice smooth and pleasant, yet carrying an authority that commanded the room. He took a step forward, his red robe rustling softly. "Words and promises are fleeting. True relationships, the kind I wish to build with Kirigakure, must be forged in a crucible of understanding. A demonstration of capability is in order."
He smiled, a gentle, almost whimsical expression that did not reach his eyes. "And who better to assess my humble abilities than the renowned Fourth Mizukage himself? A light spar, if you would indulge me. To establish a baseline of trust."
A flicker of something—not Yagura's own will, but the puppeteer's—glinted in the Kage's eyes. Suspicion. An unscheduled deviation from the plan. But the logic was sound. Assessing a new ally's strength was prudent.
"A spar..." Yagura repeated slowly. After a tense moment, he stood, grabbing his large, hook-ended club from its place beside the chair. "Very well, Emperor. Your confidence is... intriguing. Follow me."
The designated training ground was a vast, desolate expanse on the outskirts of the village, dotted with scarred rock formations and pools of murky water. The mist here was thinner, allowing for a bleak, grey visibility of a hundred meters. Julius stood opposite Yagura, while Dante and Vanica observed from a distance, their altered faces betraying no emotion. The hidden Kiri ANBU had taken up positions around the perimeter, their chakra suppressed, ready to intervene.
Yagura spun his club once, the hooked end whistling through the air, settling into a low, ready stance. "I will not hold back, Emperor. You wished to be assessed."
"I would be disappointed if you did," Julius replied, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. He didn't draw a weapon. He was the weapon.
The fight began with an explosion of motion. Yagura lunged, not with the straight-line aggression of a brute, but with the fluid, circular movements of a bōjutsu master. He closed the distance in an instant, his club a blur as he aimed a sweeping strike at Julius's legs, designed to shatter his stance and send him toppling.
Julius didn't move to block. He didn't dodge. He simply lifted one leg, the motion deceptively casual, and met the full force of the club with his shin.
CLANG!
The sound was not of bone breaking, but of heavy metal ringing under an impossible strain. Yagura's eyes widened fractionally. The metal club, wielded by a Kage, had been stopped dead by a man's leg as if it had struck a mountain.
Before Yagura could process this, Julius's other foot came up in a viciously fast front kick, a Tae Kwon Do strike aimed at Yagura's chest. The Mizukage, relying on pure instinct, spun his club around to block, the impact sending a jarring shock up his arms. The power behind the simple kick was immense.
Julius flowed from the kick into a Muay Thai stance, driving a hard elbow strike towards Yagura's head. Yagura ducked under the blow, the wind of its passage ruffling his hair, and countered with a rapid thrust from the bottom of his club, aimed at Julius's solar plexus.
This time, Julius's hand snapped out. He didn't grab the club. He used a soft, flowing Aikido-like motion, his open palm redirecting the thrust, turning Yagura's own momentum against him and spinning him slightly off-balance. In that split-second opening, Julius unleashed a Sanda-style barrage: a hard jab to the ribs, a hook to the jaw, and a powerful low kick to Yagura's lead leg, each blow landing with a dull, heavy thud.
Each impact felt like being hit by a slab of granite. Yagura stumbled back, his mind reeling. The man's fighting style was a terrifying fusion. He shifted between hard, direct strikes and soft, flowing redirection without a single wasted motion. A subtle, almost invisible distortion in the air around Julius's limbs told Yagura that something else was at play—faint, localized bursts of Gravity Magic were amplifying the speed and impact of every single blow.
"Your technique is impressive, Lord Mizukage," Julius commented, his breathing perfectly even. "But your foundation is rigid. You react, but you do not flow."
Yagura snarled, a sound that was more the beast within than the man. He spun his club, generating a whirlwind of motion. "Shadow Stroke!" A crescent wave of water, laced with sharp coral fragments, shot towards Julius.
Julius didn't retreat. He charged into the attack. At the last moment, his right arm shimmered. The flesh and bone elongated, hardened, and sharpened, extending from his fist into a perfectly formed, meter-long broadsword of bone. With a single, powerful swing, he cleaved the water-coral wave in two, the attack splashing harmlessly to either side of him.
He was now within Yagura's guard, his bone sword locked with Yagura's club. The high-pitched screech of bone scraping against tempered metal filled the air.
"Let's elevate this, shall we?" Julius whispered.
The bone sword in his hand suddenly retracted and then shot forward again, its form changing mid-motion. It was no longer a broadsword, but a long, wicked spear with a leaf-shaped tip. He was no longer a swordsman; he was a master spearman. He disengaged from the lock and unleashed a flurry of thrusts, each one aimed with deadly precision at Yagura's throat, heart, and joints.
Yagura was forced onto the defensive, his bōjutsu skills pushed to their absolute limit. He spun his club, creating a defensive shield of motion, deflecting the rapid-fire spear thrusts. The thwack-thwack-thwack of bone on steel was a frantic, percussive beat. He found an opening and swung his club's hooked end, attempting to catch the spear shaft and disarm his opponent.
Just as the hook was about to catch the bone spear, the weapon dissolved back into Julius's arm. Julius ducked under Yagura's swing, and from his other arm, a new bone weapon erupted—this time, a short, heavy cleaver. He brought it around in a devastating arc aimed at Yagura's midsection.
Yagura twisted away, the bone cleaver shearing through his clothes and drawing a shallow line of red across his side.
The ANBU watching from the shadows felt a collective chill. This wasn't just a Kekkei Genkai. The man was a living armory. He wasn't just creating weapons; he was a master of each one the instant it was formed. His fighting style morphed seamlessly from swordsman to spearman to axeman, his body and weapons a single, fluid entity.
"You're on the defensive, Lord Mizukage," Julius noted, his bone cleaver melting away as he reset his stance. "You cannot win by simply reacting to my attacks. Show me the power that makes you a Kage. Show me the beast you hold within."
As if responding to the challenge, a bubbling red chakra began to leak from Yagura, his eyes glowing with a feral intensity. The ground beneath him cracked as he channeled the power of the Three-Tails. The spar was over. The real battle had just been invited to begin.