Chapter 245: Chōjūrō's Defeat
"That's right," Suigetsu confirmed, a proud smirk playing on his lips as he hefted the monstrous blade. "This shark muscle was indeed Kisame-senpai's. But now, it's my trophy." He shamelessly claimed the credit that belonged to his leader, savoring the shock on Chōjūrō's face.
"A... trophy?" Chōjūrō's voice was a horrified whisper. "Does that mean... the Dry Persimmon Kisame was... defeated by you...?"
Suigetsu didn't confirm or deny. He merely let out a low, ambiguous chuckle that was more damning than any boast. Chōjūrō's mind filled in the blanks, his respect for the legendary swordsman warring with the terrifying reality before him.
"It's not just this one," Suigetsu continued, his voice gaining a zealous edge. "My goal is to collect all seven of the legendary blades. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do, I will see it through. With this shark muscle and the Kubikiribōchō, I already have two." His gaze fell hungrily on the Hiramekarei in Chōjūrō's hands. "And with the twin blades, Hiramekarei, my collection comes one step closer to completion. So you see... I am *determined* to have it."
"What?!" Chōjūrō was stunned, not just by the audacity, but by a flicker of shared understanding deep within his own heart. He, too, had dreamed of the day the Seven Ninja Swordsmen would be reborn, their legendary blades reunited. The sheer impossibility of the task—tracking down the scattered, often lost swords—had always made it a distant fantasy. But looking at Suigetsu's unwavering, fanatical conviction, a treacherous thought crossed his mind: *Perhaps... he might actually do it.*
The irony was bitter. One of those very swords was in his own grasp, and the man who shared his dream was his mortal enemy. While a part of him acknowledged the ambition, he would never surrender Hiramekarei, especially not to a traitor who had just murdered his comrade. His grip on the twin blades tightened until his knuckles were white.
"You are not my opponent," Suigetsu stated, his tone shifting from zealous to pragmatic. "That last attack drained you. You have no chance of beating me now. But... I don't particularly want to kill you. Hand over the Hiramekarei willingly, and I will let you live." Perhaps it was a shred of respect for a fellow swordsman, or a recognition of their shared, impossible dream, that stayed his hand.
"Impossible!" Chōjūrō roared, finding a final reservoir of defiance. "I will never hand Hiramekarei over to you! And you killed Lord Ao! I will never let you go!" He fell into a defensive stance, his body trembling with exhaustion but his will unbroken. He would fight to the end.
"Is that so?" Suigetsu's expression grew cold, the last hint of camaraderie vanishing. "Then I have no choice. Though I take no pleasure in it, I must have that sword. My apologies." The apology was empty, a formality before an execution.
"You attacked last time. Now it's my turn." Suigetsu raised Samehada, his intent clear.
"Hmph! Come on!" Chōjūrō snorted, forcing his depleted chakra to flow. A faint glow re-ignited around Hiramekarei, but it was a pale, flickering echo of its former brilliance. The difference in their power was now a chasm.
"Stubborn."
The word was barely out of Suigetsu's mouth before his body lost its solid form, melting into the surrounding water without a ripple. He vanished from sight.
*The Hozuki Clan's Hydrification Technique!* Chōjūrō's mind screamed. He knew the opponent could emerge from any body of water at any moment. His senses were stretched to their limit, every nerve screaming as he waited for the attack.
*There! Behind me!*
A subtle shift in the water's pressure, a primal sense of danger—Chōjūrō spun on his heel, his reactions honed by years of training. He didn't think; he acted. The Hiramekarei swept out in a desperate, horizontal slash as Suigetsu's upper body erupted from the water behind him.
*SWISH—SPLASH!*
The blades connected, but not with flesh and bone. Suigetsu's form dissolved into a harmless splash of water, scattering across the lake's surface.
*A water clone!* Chōjūrō's blood ran cold. *A decoy!*
The realization came a fatal second too late. The true sense of peril didn't come from the front, but from directly behind him, where the clone's attack had drawn all his attention. He tried to pivot, but his exhausted body was too slow.
The cold, sharp press of a kunai against his throat froze him in place.
"Don't move," Suigetsu's voice was a flat, deadly whisper directly behind his ear. "Unless you want to die."
Chōjūrō's body went rigid. The fight was over. He had lost. The feint had been perfect. The water clone had drawn his attack and his focus, creating the single, critical opening Suigetsu needed. From the moment Suigetsu had melted into the water to the final press of the kunai, less than three seconds had passed.
He was disarmed, defeated, and utterly at the mercy of the man who coveted his sword.
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