Chapter 45 — The Transformation of Kimimaro and Jūgo
The command from Central echoed in Kimimaro's ears as he performed the final checks on his newly-modified chakra armor.
After the battle in the Land of Snow, he had become intimately familiar with its capabilities.
But the armor had since undergone further upgrades—its weakness against taijutsu compensated for, its physical protection substantially reinforced.
Had Kimimaro not seen its original form with his own eyes, he might not have recognized this version at all, now clad in layers of supplementary plates.
Yet none of this was what shook him.
Armor was useful, yes—
but as the wielder of the Shikotsumyaku, Kimimaro had always fought with feral intensity.
If not for Oda Nobunaga's firm insistence, he might never have accepted wearing armor in the first place.
Nobunaga meant well, certainly.
But what truly unsettled and confused Kimimaro—what shocked him—
…was the absence of madness.
No bloodlust.
No frenzy.
Nothing resembling the twisted exhilaration he remembered from his clan.
Everywhere he looked, the sound shinobi preparing to enter the battlefield showed steadiness—calm eyes, taut expressions.
They looked resolved, not rabid.
As if they weren't marching toward a place where they might kill or be killed at any moment…
but toward something sacred.
A duty.
An honor.
Kimimaro could not understand.
"Captain Kimimaro!"
A young voice called out behind him just as his thoughts churned.
Kimimaro turned to see a teenage boy holding two long swords, gazing at him with an expression he seldom received.
Respect.
It took Kimimaro several seconds to identify it.
"Captain Kimimaro," the boy said, bowing deeply as he lifted the swords with both hands,
"our Armament Department forged these for you according to Lord Nobunaga's specifications—
long blades infused with chakra metal, hardened to withstand the strength of your bone swords."
"Please take them into battle. Carry our hopes—our will—and strike down the Cloud ninja."
Kimimaro merely stared at him, silent.
But the boy neither flinched nor retreated.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Only admiration.
The boy held the blades high with both hands, bowing a full ninety degrees as he offered them to Kimimaro with heartfelt sincerity.
"Aren't you afraid of me?"
The question slipped out of Kimimaro before he knew it.
Back in Kirigakure of the Land of Water, his own clan had feared his power so deeply they locked him away like a monster.
Mist-nin viewed the Kaguya clan as unstable beasts, ostracizing them at every turn.
As for ordinary citizens—
Bloodline clans were demons in their eyes.
They wished every last one of them would die sooner rather than later.
But here, in the Land of Fields…
No one feared him.
Their gazes held warmth. Admiration. Even… gratitude.
"Afraid of you?"
The boy blinked, briefly stunned by the question. Maintaining his bow, he lifted his head and replied with genuine surprise:
"You're a hero, Captain Kimimaro—Lord Nobunaga's shield, the protector of our land.
Who would ever fear a hero?"
"A… hero? A protector?"
Kimimaro's pupils tightened sharply.
He had imagined many possibilities—that Nobunaga had instructed the boy to say this, or that it was some naïve façade meant to placate him.
But staring into the boy's eyes, he found no falsehood.
None.
A Kaguya… a supposed madman… being called a hero who protects his country?
Slowly, Kimimaro reached out and accepted the offered blades.
His voice carried confusion, but inside—inside, something shuddered.
"May fortune be with you on the battlefield, Captain Kimimaro!"
Straightening, the boy flashed a radiant smile—one so bright, so unguarded, that Kimimaro felt it carve a place in his memory.
He had never seen a smile like that among the Kaguya.
Nor even under Orochimaru.
A smile with light.
"Captain Kimimaro, it's time."
Another voice came from behind—one of the squad members assigned to him.
Kimimaro turned.
All around him were shinobi looking at him with sincere respect.
He tightened his grip around the new blade.
"Kimimaro Squad—move out."
His voice carried an emotion he had perhaps never possessed before.
And as he strode forward, he found himself unwilling to let that newly-found light fade.
---
On the outskirts of Sound Mountain Fortress, Yuki Iori—once the envoy who tried to intimidate Nobunaga—now stood proudly as part of the Cloud Village's vanguard.
Fortunate or unfortunate, he had been assigned as the spearhead of the spearhead.
At the moment, he looked quite pleased with himself.
Cloud-nin surged across the battlefield with their usual ferocity, and the moment Yuki's team charged, the Sound-nin defenders had already abandoned the outer position they were supposed to hold.
"Lord Yuki… isn't this going too smoothly?"
A chūnin behind him couldn't help voicing his unease.
He had never fought in the previous shinobi wars, but the veterans told stories—
Every inch of ground cost blood.
Every fortification required brutal struggle.
Yet here?
The Sound-nin barely resisted before fleeing.
It felt less like war… and more like a triumphant parade.
At this pace, they wouldn't even need Cloud's main forces—
The vanguard alone could crush Sound Mountain fortress.
"Bah. What would you know?"
Yuki waved dismissively.
To him, Otogakure was nothing—
a freshly founded band of nobodies from a minor country.
No famed clans, no legendary shinobi.
How could they possibly stand before the might of Cloud, one of the top powers of the age?
One exchange should shatter them.
Anything else would be unnatural.
The chūnin still felt something was off, but before he could voice it—
"Enough chatter. Keep up. We're not stopping until we drag Nobunaga out by the scruff of his neck."
Yuki's eyes fixed on the fortress's highest point.
No doubt that was where the arrogant little daimyo was hiding—the one who dared preach "a ruler must defend his nation."
"Wait for me, Nobunaga. I'll be there soon enough!"
With a shout bordering on deranged, Yuki charged forward again.
---
High above the battlefield—little more than a black speck from the ground—floated a war-airship imported from the Land of Snow.
Inside, seated calmly in the commander's chair, was Jūgo.
Thanks to his ability to communicate with animals, he had been promoted to Chief of Reconnaissance.
"Captain Jūgo, all allied decoy units have safely withdrawn from the outer rings."
"The Cat-Eye Sages report that the Cloud-nin have walked straight into the trap and still have no idea."
These "Cat-Eye Sage Nin" were a specialized unit Nobunaga created, modeled on a peculiar role from a certain era of the Blue Planet—
shinobi selected for their exceptional eyesight, surpassing even primitive radars.
Jūgo closed his eyes briefly, linking his senses to the animals scattered throughout the battlefield.
After confirming the intel multiple times, he nodded with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Good. Signal the rear units."
He still wasn't used to this.
To being respected.
To being relied upon.
To being a hero not because he transformed into a monster on the front lines…
but because he sat here, suspended above the world, guiding soldiers who believed in him.
Every report he sent back—
every warning, every observation—
carried the weight of countless lives.
He would not fail them.