Guy knew exactly what it meant to open the Eight Gates Released Formation, the collapse of the body, certain death. But in this moment, faced with such a powerful enemy, they seemed to have no other choice.
A thousand arguments formed and died in his mind.
Don't sacrifice yourself.
I'm not worth it.
We'll find another way.
But beneath them all lay only one truth, there was no other way.
He clenched his teeth, trying to make his voice sound firm and calm. "Dad… don't…" Yet, his voice began to choke, as if an invisible force was blocking his throat.
He looked at his father, eyes glistening with tears, his heart torn with conflict and pain. He wanted to tell his father to leave them be, but the words wouldn't come out.
Because this was his father's ninja way.
Self-restraint didn't just mean refraining from recklessly using the power of the Eight Gates. More importantly, it meant facing any challenge or adversity with a positive attitude and firm will.
All those years of ridicule, of being called the "Eternal Genin," of being rejected for team after team, his father had endured it all with that same unwavering smile.
Guy's tears flowed freely now, not from sadness but from a deep understanding. This was what it meant to be a true ninja, not glory or technique, but the willingness to protect others at any cost.
"How boring. You're all going to die here anyway. If you've got something to say, save it for the afterlife." Jinpachi slowly approached, carrying Shibuki.
The other members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist didn't move. To them, the few Konoha ninjas across from them were no match for Jinpachi. They looked pretty weak too.
Kushimaru leaned on Nuibari, examining his fingernails through his mask as if bored by the proceedings. Fuguki had already turned his attention elsewhere, scanning the forest for other potential threats. Their indifference was perhaps more terrifying than active malice, the casual disregard of those who had killed so often that one more death meant nothing.
Guy's teammates had frozen completely, terror reducing them to statues. Ebisu's glasses had slipped down his nose, his eyes wide and unfocused. Genma had dropped to his knees, the senbon falling from his lips to the ground.
Duy stepped forward, placing himself directly between Jinpachi and the three genin. His chakra flared brighter, the ground beneath his feet beginning to crack from the pressure.
Whoosh~
With a sudden slicing sound through the air, a uniquely-shaped kunai shot rapidly toward Jinpachi. The weapon appeared from seemingly nowhere.
Sensing the attack with sharp instincts, he slightly twisted his body, letting the kunai graze past his side.
A petty trick.
Facing such a small sneak attack, he even had the leisure to comment mockingly in his mind. He didn't even bother to draw his blade. The attack seemed so insignificant, so amateur, that it wasn't worth the effort of a proper defense.
However, the moment that seemingly harmless kunai passed by, a figure suddenly appeared at its location. Ryouma grabbed the kunai's handle with his left hand, and in his right was a Rasengan he had already formed.
With the extreme speed of a space-time jutsu, Jinpachi didn't even have time to react before Ryouma slammed the Rasengan into him. The force of the impact violently smashed the Kiri ninja into the ground.
The Rasengan didn't cut like a blade or burn like fire, it ground like a drill, tearing through cloth, skin, muscle, and bone with equal indifference.
Under its immense power, the ground shook violently. Debris flew in all directions, instantly forming a crater roughly a meter in diameter.
At that moment, Jinpachi lay on his back in the center of the crater, a massive, grotesque spiral wound carved into his chest.
It was as if an invisible force had torn him open. Blood gushed from the wound, soaking the surrounding earth. He opened his mouth in agony, coughing up mouthfuls of bright red blood.
The sudden turn of events stunned everyone. For a moment, the entire battlefield was silent as death.
All eyes were fixed on him, filled with shock and disbelief.
Even among Guy and the others, none of them had expected that the situation would change so dramatically in the blink of an eye.
"What?!" Kushimaru couldn't help but exclaim. Just a moment ago, his long-time partner had seemed so fearsome, now he was lying on the ground, his fate unknown.
He took an involuntary step forward, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
Though he didn't particularly care whether Jinpachi lived or died, the speed displayed by the enemy was enough to surprise him. More than surprise, it sent a chill down his spine.
Fuguki said in a deep voice, "Check the surroundings for any other ninjas, this may be a diversion."
The remaining swordsmen shifted their positions, forming a loose semicircle with Fuguki at the center. Their casual postures had vanished, replaced by the coiled readiness of elite killers.
Ryouma, after making his powerful entrance, didn't press the attack. He stood firmly in place with his back to Guy and the others., his gaze cold and merciless.
"Duy-san, the situation right now isn't dire enough for you to release your self-restraint."
Hearing Ryouma's words, Guy was the first to react, shouting excitedly, "You're here!"
Relief and hope crashed over him like a wave.
But his excitement quickly faded, because in his eyes, even a genius like Ryouma couldn't possibly take on all the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist by himself.
Although he had taken down one of them upon his entrance, it was thanks to a sneak attack. If it came to a head-on battle, he alone couldn't possibly handle all of them at once. The advantage still lay with the enemy.
Duy thought the same. He knew Ryouma was strong, everyone in the village called him Konoha's greatest genius, and he was the hero who had ended the battle on the Land of Rivers front.
But no matter how much of a genius he was, it didn't change the fact that he was still just a kid, the same age as his son Guy. To him, who had lived through two ninja wars, seen prodigies rise and fall, and mourned friends whose potential never reached fruition, the boy's talent was just one possibility among many uncertain futures.
He spoke solemnly, "Ryouma, I'm not joking. You're not ready to face these enemies yet. Get out of here with Guy, quickly. I'll hold them off with everything I have."
The chakra surrounding him intensified again, preparation for the next gate. To him, the choice was clear, his life for these children's futures.
"Please," he added quietly. "Don't throw your lives away here. Live. Grow stronger. Protect the village in ways I never could."
Upon hearing the father and son's words of concern, Ryouma let out a small sigh. "I'm not joking with you either."
Bang~
As he spoke, he stomped down hard on Jinpachi's still-bleeding forehead, completely burying the head into the ground, cutting off the last sliver of his life.
Blood sprayed outward from the impact, spattering Ryouma's sandals and the ground.
"Besides, there's something you got wrong. Against them… there's no need for anyone to run."
"Hmph! Stop being arrogant!" Hearing Ryouma's bold words, Fuguki, snorted coldly, then gave the boy a cruel grin.
Standing at his full height, he towered over everyone else in the clearing, his massive sword held effortlessly in one hand.
"None of you are getting away, especially you, the one with the fat raccoon on your shoulder. You're that Leaf's Gale, aren't you? You're number one on our kill list."
The killing intent emanating from him intensified, pressing down on the clearing. Small animals fled in terror from the monstrous chakra signature.
When Shukaku heard someone call him a "fat raccoon," his face turned bright red. "Damn! Ryouma, let's kill this fat guy first!"
Ryouma, meanwhile, mocked his enemies, "Oh? I've noticed you are all pretty ugly, yet you always seem to daydream about beautiful outcomes."
To be honest, he didn't think of himself as the mocking type. But ever since he came to the Kiri front, he'd picked up the habit.
It wasn't a good habit, it made him seem unrefined.
Still, at this moment, he didn't mind exchanging a few words with the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. Before revealing himself, he'd already laid the groundwork all around.
Today, not a single one of them would be returning alive to Kiri.
"Ryouma!!!"
A furious roar caught his attention.
The one shouting was Satoru. His eyes were blood-red, and he gritted his teeth like he was staring down a mortal enemy.
Ryouma's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the man's face, searching his memory for a connection. The hatred was too personal to be generic battlefield animosity.
Then it clicked, the distinctive facial structure, the characteristic jaw line, the unique way he held his sword. Features shared with a Kiri ninja he had killed months earlier during the Byakugan recovery mission.
To this man, Ryouma was indeed a mortal enemy. Just as Satoru was to Ryouma.
But in Ryouma's case, all the Seven Ninja Swordsmen were his mortal enemies.
Not just for every Konoha ninja who had fallen to their blades, or for the coastal villages burned, the families displaced, the lives disrupted by their raids.
But for what they had done to his father years ago.
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