The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist were more than just high-level combat strength. They were a symbol of honor.
Those who could join the Seven usually fell into two groups: those with family ties, inheriting swordsmanship passed down through their clan; and those with raw talent, born with a natural bond to one of the blades.
The Hozuki Clan was the prime example of the first. Their archives contained the training methods for all seven swords, which was why their clan had always produced members of the Seven.
The second type were rarer still—shinobi whose instincts aligned with a blade's unique fighting style.
Though the trials were open to all, in truth most had already been eliminated by these two conditions. Few could master an alien style without years of training, and most who tried would cripple themselves.
At the training grounds in the center of Kiri—
Four swords rested on a rack: the Explosive Blade: Shibuki, the Blunt Sword: Kabutowari, the Longsword: Nuibari, and the Lightning Blades: Kiba.
Several Hozuki shinobi stood guard over them, overseeing the preliminary trials.
Behind them, five large chairs had been placed. Chojuro, wielder of Hiramekarei, already sat in the center seat, face pink with unease under the crowd's eyes.
"You've all heard the rules. Each of you may choose one sword. You'll be tested. Fail, and you're done. That's all. Begin," a Hozuki jōnin said coldly.
At once, four challengers leapt forward, each seizing a blade.
The jōnin clapped. Four Hozuki stepped in to face them.
"Start!"
Clashes rang out immediately—steel against steel.
The Hozuki weren't especially strong, but they knew the swords inside and out. Their task was to measure strength and affinity, not kill.
And in front of so many witnesses, cheating was impossible.
The matches ended quickly. Four blades fell.
"Unqualified," came four voices at once.
No surprise showed on the jōnin's face. He nodded and said flatly, "Next."
The crowd, once noisy, grew subdued. This was no easy trial.
Most had barely touched the swords before being thrown into combat—hardly enough time to adapt.
The failures mounted. Only five had passed the first stage, and all were defeated in turn by Chojuro.
It wasn't that his test was impossible. It was that the challengers were simply too weak.
Faces darkened in the crowd. Was Kiri's strength truly this low now?
One man from the Nuibari family nearly cut himself on its wires during the match. How could such wielders be accepted?
From a quiet spot among the spectators—
Haruna tugged at Ringo Ameyuri's sleeve. "Sister, you're way stronger than them. Why don't you go?"
Ameyuri stroked her head gently. She'd been watching since the start, studying Chojuro's movements.
Now she was ready.
"Haruna, wait. Soon your sister's name will echo through the village," she said with a grin, ruffling her hair.
Then she leapt forward.
The Hozuki jōnin glanced at her, uninterested, then looked away.
She didn't care. She stepped up, seized Kiba, one blade in each hand. Lightning sparked at their touch.
The crowd stirred. Ameyuri was known—a prodigy of Kiri. All eyes fixed on her.
A Hozuki chūnin moved to face her. "Forgive me."
Ameyuri bent low, then shot forward in a blur, lightning dancing across her blades.
The chūnin's face hardened. She already looked like she knew the swords. He leapt aside, kunai ready.
She had learned from her fight with Kurosuki Raiga. Every move with Kiba felt familiar in her grip.
She tightened her hold, channeling the current into her body. Her speed spiked—vanishing, then reappearing at his throat.
Kiba's edge stopped a hair's breadth from his skin.
Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. "Qualified!" he blurted.
Gasps rose from the crowd. None had finished so swiftly before.
"She's amazing. No wonder Kurosuki Raiga lost to her," someone whispered.
Haruna turned, startled. Beside her stood a boy half a head shorter, his bright eyes fixed on the stage.
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