Screams echoed through the clearing. Bandits fell one after another like helpless chickens led to slaughter.
"Help… someone!" one shouted before a blade bisected him in two. His cry died against the harsh reality.
From behind his corpse emerged a blond-haired shinobi streaked with red.
His katana, dripping crimson, reeked of blood as it tore through the bandits.
Even the Uchiha swordsmanship he had practiced for years was more than enough—let alone the added weight of Rengoku's style.
Four figures smashed through the loose formation. The bandits' crude cleavers clashed uselessly against the superior technique of shinobi steel.
Kyojuro raised his eyebrows. This… this is so easy. He remembered just a few days ago, before he had gained the memories. Even after years of relentless training, his swordsmanship had never reached such a height.
But now—after inheriting the memories of the legendary Hashira—his once-mediocre swordsmanship had risen to near mastery.
Their trajectories, their future paths, even the points where they strained—all of it was laid bare beneath the glow of his Sharingan.
This… this is real swordsmanship.
PUCHI.
SLASH.
PUCHI.
Bodies dropped. Blood painted the grass beneath them in violent strokes.
In minutes, nearly twenty bandits were downed. Some burned alive in their own failed explosions; others fell pierced, split, or scorched.
As the silence settled, Kyojuro turned to the others.
Kakashi's eyes met his—and the boy gave a small nod.
Kyojuro nodded back out of courtesy, before glancing toward the spot where Minato stood hidden. "Mission done, right?" he asked. For him, bandit hunts were starting to feel insultingly easy.
A day later, the sun shone high, its warmth spilling over the land. Rin was exhausted, so Minato led the team to a nearby village.
The boys rested at an inn, while Kyojuro and Minato sat at a booth, sake steaming between them.
Minato's gaze softened as he listened to Kyojuro's story—the tragedy that had carved him into who he was. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, Kyojuro."
Kyojuro shook his head. The sake blurred his vision, but not his conviction. "It happens, Minato. Such is the life of a ninja." His voice dipped low, weighted with melancholy.
Minato shared his own story, of training under Jiraiya of the Sannin. He tried to lighten the mood, retelling his master's embarrassing antics.
Kyojuro couldn't help but smile every time Minato mentioned the villages they'd been forced to abandon—because Jiraiya had once again been caught staring at naked women.
The sake burned their throats, and with it, the minutes blurred.
.
.
.
SWOOSH.
SWOOSH.
Five shinobi leapt from tree to tree. Obito and Rin couldn't help glancing back at Kyojuro and Minato from time to time.
Both a jonin and a chūnin, they had been utterly drunk when found. It had fallen on the three younger ones to carry them to the inn.
Kyojuro coughed and turned aside, enjoying the endless greenery.
Minato, thick-skinned as ever, met Obito's glare with a cheerful grin with the shamelessness only years under the frog sage could forge.
TWITCH.
Their relaxed expressions sharpened the instant they heard a tug in the distance. Minato's voice cut sharp: "Duck!"
His unique kunai flew, one striking close, another sailing far beyond.
SWISH.
In a blink, Minato vanished, reappearing above his students. With a hand on each of them, he warped them away in quick teleports—Obito, Rin, then Kakashi.
Kyojiro, however, had moved the moment he heard the string snap. He drew in a deep breath. Full Concentration Breathing.
Vitality surged through his limbs. Weakness vanished, replaced by burning energy.
SWISH.
The branch beneath him snapped as he launched, landing squarely by the lone kunai Minato had thrown.
Two seconds. That was all it took.
BOOM!
Where they had stood moments before, five chained explosions tore the trees apart. Flames engulfed the forest floor. Smoke choked the sky.
Kyojuro's hand gripped his katana tight. Whatever was coming, he was ready.
.
.
.
"Losers… can't even set a proper trap," a voice sneered. A man emerged from the brush, his vest strapped with explosive tags. A jagged scar carved across his left eye.
Behind him, three more shinobi appeared from the burning haze, their forehead protectors hidden.
However Minato's voice cut the air, cold and sharp. "Iwa."... rendering their disguise Obsolete.
Kyojiro nearly lost his footing. What is it with me and running into enemy shinobi during supposed 'simple' bandit missions?
Minato's tone turned grim. "Kyojiro. Handle the younger ones. I'll take the jōnin."
Kyojiro nodded. I wanted to keep my new abilities hidden… but… His gaze flicked to Obito, nervous and underconfident. I can't let them die.
The red blade gleamed as he raised his sword. "Whoever you are… think twice before attacking."
The scarred man laughed. "I was a jōnin before you brats even learned to hold a kunai... Konoha's always had overconfident children." He raised his fists. "It'll be fun destroying your entire team."
SWOOSH.
They moved at once. Minato struck first, kunai darting for the man's neck, movements sharpened to mechanical precision.
But the enemy didn't flinch. He punched forward, barehanded.
THUMP.
Goosebumps crawled Minato's skin—his instincts screamed.
SWISH.
He vanished, leaving only a kunai to intercept the strike.
BOOM!
The blast rocked the forest. Trees cracked. Fire spread.
This was no ordinary shinobi.
They were facing the Explosion Release Kekkei Genkai