Jiraiya stared at Shigure like he'd just sprouted horns. His wide grin had frozen halfway, disbelief creeping into every line of his face.
This brat… what the hell is going on!? Did he really just activate the Sharingan and copy my ninjutsu flawlessly in one go?
A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek as he watched Shigure calmly disperse the defense of sharpened hair. The technique was meant to take weeks of practice even for the most gifted. Yet here was a genin pulling it off on his very first attempt—better than its creator.
Terrifying talent… Even Minato, with all his genius, didn't reach this level of instant comprehension…
"Senior Brother Jiraiya," Shigure called smoothly, tilting his head innocently, "does this count as having learned it? What about that other ninjutsu you just mentioned a moment ago? The one stronger than Needle Jizō?"
"Eh—uh…" Jiraiya coughed, scrambling to regain composure. "I'm your senior, so of course I don't lie. But… maybe your mastery is still just so-so. Needs polish. Yes, polish!" He jabbed a thumb into his chest with mock confidence. "Still, since you've sort-of mastered this one… fine. I'll pass you the other ninjutsu."
Shigure fought down a smile at the man's forced bluster. He could see straight through it, but out of respect, he said nothing.
"This next jutsu…" Jiraiya's tone darkened with gravitas. "It's called Chaos Lion's Mane. Built on the same principle as Needle Jizō—but much more difficult. Offense instead of pure defense. If you train like crazy, maybe a month of practice will get you somewhere."
He gestured exaggeratedly as he explained. "You stimulate hair growth with chakra and weave it into massive lion-like shapes that strike and bind enemies. If you push it far, the hair constructs shred foes to ribbons. And, hah, if you're careful, you can also use it to rescue people… just don't crush them to death."
Jiraiya chuckled at his own dark joke, while Shigure responded with a flat "Oh," glancing sideways like he wasn't sure whether to laugh.
"Let's demonstrate, then." Jiraiya clapped his palms together, shooting his chakra through his scalp. "Ninjutsu: Random Lion's Mane!"
His white hair writhed outward, twisting into wriggling masses that formed the giant visage of a lion's head. The mane lashed and bit at the air, its sheer presence snarling aggression.
Shigure's crimson eyes gleamed like blades. His Sharingan spun furiously, memorizing every motion—the molding of chakra, the subtle shift of hand seals, even the ratio of energy feeding each strand. He watched with scholar's precision and predator's hunger.
By the time Jiraiya finished, he already knew it.
The younger Uchiha's hands flashed through flawless seals. "Chaos Lion's Mane!"
Dark hair shot outward, growing monstrously, thick and alive. It twisted and coiled, splitting into not one lion's head but nine, enormous and snarling, each barbed strand vibrating with lethal power. The constructs surged forward, crashing onto a stone pillar at the edge of the chamber. In a single crushing bite, the rock was shredded and pulverized into dust.
Jiraiya's mouth fell open. His gourd of sake almost toppled out of his hands.
"This… this must be a lie… Am I dreaming?" His laugh was incredulous, hollow. He clutched his head as though shaken to his soul. "I'm going insane…"
Before Shigure could reply, the older man threw up his hands and turned on his heel, striding right out of the chamber in a dramatic sulk. He muttered something like a farewell to Hizashi on his way out, his movements stiff.
"Guess I broke him," Shigure thought, suppressing a sigh.
The mood lightened once the dust of battle settled. Outside, Noguchi Hideo, the Craftsman's Village blacksmith, bowed deeply. His large hands trembled slightly as he clutched a long-wrapped bundle. "You four… my life would already be forfeit without your help. Thank you."
Hizashi inclined his head. "It was our mission. More importantly—you survived. That's what matters."
Noguchi shook his head stubbornly. "No. Not enough. Wait a moment—there's something I must give."
He disappeared briefly into the side chamber where his belongings were stored and returned with reverent steps, as if carrying a treasure. His hands unfolded the cloth, revealing a blade unlike any the team had ever seen.
It was midnight black, forged with an otherworldly luster. The sword seemed to drink in the light around it, its edges glimmering with a subtle glow.
"This," Noguchi said, voice proud, "is the Meteor Blade. Forged using my village's deepest craft and the rarest meteorite iron from beyond the sky. It is the only one of its kind. I offer it to you now, as payment unworthy of your rescue—but a gift from my soul nonetheless."
Hizashi immediately held up a hand in refusal. "Master Noguchi, this is far too precious. We completed our duty, nothing more. Such a blade should not pass so easily into hands unconnected."
But Noguchi's dark eyes flared with conviction. "No. You accomplished your duty as shinobi, and I as a blacksmith must repay a debt. Without you, my craft would have died here today. This gift is not reward, but gratitude. Please."
Even Kusuo muttered with awkward admiration. "Didn't think the bearded guy'd be this righteous. But I already have the Gray Fang Blade—it's more than enough for me."
Akane shook her head gently. "The Hyūga specialize in gentle fist. I can't wield a sword at its full worth."
Hizashi studied the shining weapon, then turned to his youngest student. "Then it's decided. Shigure—this is yours. You alone can honor its weight."
Shigure hesitated only a breath, then bowed. "Very well. I will accept—for all of us."
The sword rested in his palm with alien heaviness. As his chakra brushed its surface, he jerked slightly. A pulse thudded from the heart of the blade against his skin, alive, almost breathing. A cool sensation trickled into him, murmuring clarity into his mind, smoothing his meridians like easing rivers.
He closed his fingers tight around it. This sword… it resonates with me. With my bloodline.
Noguchi grinned wide, pride brimming. "The hardness and sharpness surpass any known metal. Tough, too. I dare claim—against the Seven Swords of the Mist, this would prevail. No blade shall best it. It is the strongest."
Shigure drew it free. The blade sang with a clear tone, its black sheen slicing darkness. "Yes… you belong with me," he whispered inwardly, sliding it back into its obsidian sheath.
Debate immediately erupted.
"It needs a name," Noguchi said. "Why not call it… Fish in Water?"
Shigure's face turned pale. "That's… terrible."
"How about Hardest Sword?" Kusuo suggested proudly.
"That's worse," Hizashi said with a tired sigh.
Akane clasped her hands. "Why not call it the Sword of Peace? I dream of a world without war."
"It's lovely," Hizashi said warmly. Kusuo, however, made a gagging sound. "Too poetic. Red Butterfly's idea doesn't cut it."
The bickering grew, even Noguchi throwing in ridiculous titles. Eventually, Shigure raised the blade high and silenced them all.
"I've chosen. From today, this sword will bear my own name. Shigure."
All heads turned in mild surprise.
"Meteor Blade… Shigure," he affirmed with calm pride. "A blade and a shinobi—both aiming to be the strongest in the world."
The black scabbard gleamed, forged from the same meteorite ore, flawless and cool to the touch. His fingers rested against its handle, knowing instinctively that this connection was fated.
For Uchiha Shigure, this was not just a weapon. It was the symbol of his leap from student to force—his harvest from both mission and destiny.
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