The last two days, Kirigakure had grown lively.
News of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen selection spread through the village in less than a day.
The Seven had always been a symbol of strength, in Kiri and in shinobi history alike.
Normally, their members were chosen in advance.
But this time, anyone could enter the trials. And the message had come straight from the Mizukage's office—confirmed personally by Mei.
The trials would be overseen by Chojuro, wielder of the Hiramekarei, along with the Hozuki Clan.
The announcement shook the village. For ordinary shinobi, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to rise.
…
At Utakata's place—
He wore a helpless look as Ranmaru hopped back and forth in front of him.
Though two days had passed, the boy was still bursting with excitement.
Never had he imagined he could walk freely. Each step was a miracle—one gifted by Yuto-dono.
Every time he remembered it, awe lit his eyes.
Even though Yuto had said he didn't need eyes, Ranmaru was certain he could become Yuto-dono's support.
Watching him, Utakata's gaze held quiet curiosity.
He knew Ranmaru's body well—frail to the point of collapse.
Which made it all the harder to understand: what kind of jutsu could restore him so completely?
His eyes flicked to the black rhombus mark on the boy's forehead. Instinct told him it was the key.
Even Saiken, the Six-Tails, had told him that powerful chakra now stirred within Ranmaru's body.
With a sigh, Utakata leaned back against a tree, shutting his eyes again. If not for Ranmaru's bouncing, he'd have preferred to nap.
Two sets of footsteps approached. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
Kimimaro appeared, pale but steady. The constant ache he had lived with since childhood had eased.
Yuto's treatment was slowly suppressing the illness.
"Don't use chakra at all for now. If you use Shikotsumyaku, discard every bone you pull out. Never take them back inside."
Yuto's tone was calm.
"Yes, Yuto-dono," Kimimaro answered respectfully.
"Yuto-dono!"
The voice rang with the same reverence, and Yuto turned to see Ranmaru running up.
A smile touched his lips.
Since his revival, few things had surprised him. Ranmaru was one.
For a boy so weak to absorb five, six times the cursed chakra his body should handle—it had been unthinkable.
Now he looked like any other child. But once in cursed form, his power leapt to jōnin level. Add the Red Eye, and even an average jōnin might fall.
An unexpected gift, one Yuto hadn't foreseen.
He ruffled Ranmaru's hair. "How's your control?"
"Yuto-dono, I can enter cursed form anytime. The Red Eye even helps me master it better."
The boy beamed under his touch.
Yuto's eyes lit. The Red Eye was nearly the Byakugan's equal—and in some ways surpassed it.
Of course, compared to the Tenseigan, it was nothing.
"I knew I'd find you here, Yuto-dono."
A sultry voice carried from behind.
Yuto turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as Mei walked toward him.
"Well, Mizukage-sama, fancy you taking a stroll today. Didn't expect that." He smirked.
She rolled her eyes. "You forget? Today's the Swordsmen trials. Most of the shinobi are there. I have free time."
Her gaze shifted to Kimimaro and Ranmaru.
When she saw the boy, her eyes brightened. Stroking his hair, she smiled.
"So this is the child who even shocked you."
Ranmaru flushed, retreating shyly to hide behind Yuto.
Yuto chuckled softly, nodding. But his eyes glinted coldly. "Looks like the Kinoshita Clan couldn't hold back anymore."
Mei's lips curved. "You guessed it. They paid a hefty sum for me to invite you personally."
"Hah. So you bled them dry."
Yuto laughed, then straightened.
"Come. The show's about to begin."
As they walked away, Ranmaru blinked, remembering their talk of the trials.
Curious, he dashed off toward Utakata, who still leaned under his tree.
"Utakata-dono, what are the Seven Swordsmen?" he asked eagerly.
Utakata opened one eye, sighed. Best to tell him straight, before the questions never ended.
"If you can claim one of those swords, you'll be more than worthy to aid Yuto-dono."
The boy's eyes lit up instantly. Without another word, he ran toward the village center.
"Troublesome brat," Utakata muttered, shutting his eyes again.
…
At the training grounds in the heart of Kiri—
The place was packed.
Crowds pressed in from all sides, eager to witness history.
For the first time ever, the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist would be chosen without restriction.
Most came to watch. But for a few—this was their chance to carve a name into the world.
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