Chapter 274

"I plan to select a group from among them, providing merit and granting access to restricted ninjutsu, allowing them to enhance their own strength."

Now that he had assumed the mantle of Hokage, it was only natural that he focus on cultivating the next generation of skilled subordinates.

As for ensuring fairness in the selection process, that responsibility could be delegated—he simply needed to oversee it.

"Understood!"

Mimura's eyes flickered with surprise upon hearing Toshiro's words. Such an opportunity was exceedingly rare for young ninjas in the village, especially those from civilian backgrounds.

With financial support and access to advanced ninjutsu, their strength would undoubtedly grow by leaps and bounds.

As Mimura withdrew, Toshiro shifted his gaze toward the clan leaders, who appeared visibly intrigued.

"If any of your clansmen show promise, let them prove themselves on the battlefield. As Hokage, I will ensure fair treatment for all."

A subtle ripple of satisfaction spread among the assembled clan heads. Toshiro took note of their reactions but remained indifferent—he had expected nothing less.

"What's Yagura's current condition?" He inquired, turning his attention back to more pressing matters.

Although the Fourth Mizukage had been captured, his condition was far from stable.

Already in a weakened state, he had suffered further trauma—first from the violent explosion that followed Toshiro's unsealing and then from the injuries inflicted by the Kiri ninjas who had attacked both him and the Sandaime.

Now, unconscious and in critical condition, his survival was uncertain.

"The Mizukage's condition... I fear he won't hold on much longer."

The head of the medical team hesitated, glancing at Toshiro's expression. Seeing no sign of anger, he wiped the sweat from his brow and pressed on.

"If we're lucky, he might last ten days—perhaps two weeks at most. If not… he may not survive much longer."

The medical team was already under immense pressure. Given the circumstances, they had exhausted their options.

"I regret to say... we've done all we can. However, if Lady Tsunade were to intervene personally, there might still be a chance to save him."

"Tsunade, huh?"

Toshiro stroked the stubble on his chin, then turned his gaze toward Hiruzen, who sat silently in the large tent.

"Sarutobi-san, do you believe Tsunade-senpai is the right choice for this?"

Toshiro's voice carried a hint of skepticism. He was well aware of Tsunade's condition—her hemophobia had not improved in the slightest. If they turned to her for Yagura's treatment, she would, at best, be able to offer theoretical advice.

But now that he truly considered it, he saw no reason to expend effort in saving Yagura at all.

The Fourth Mizukage was under the influence of the Mangekyō Sharingan, a fact best kept as secret as possible. The fewer people who knew, the better.

"Tsunade..."

Hiruzen furrowed his brow, not immediately responding. Instead, he fell into contemplation, his expression wavering.

Just thinking about the situation gave him a headache. One of the legendary Sannin—renowned across the shinobi world—crippled by hemophobia? It was almost laughable, if not for the unfortunate reality of it.

"Here's what we'll do. Have the communications squad report Yagura's condition back to Konoha and have Tsunade assess him remotely."

Since Sarutobi himself was unsure, Toshiro decided to let things play out naturally.

"I have only one condition—Yagura must not die in our Konoha camp."

The Fourth Mizukage had to be returned to Kirigakure. What happened after the handover was of no concern to Konoha.

"...Understood!"

The medical squad leader let out a sigh, responding with a hint of reluctance.

Though he still harbored some hesitation, with Lady Tsunade overseeing the case—even remotely—he believed that as long as Yagura's vital signs were maintained, the situation should remain manageable.

—

The Kiri ninjas had retreated to the open sea beyond the port.

Splurt!

A sharp kunai, held in a reverse grip, sank into the muscle of a thigh, sending a spray of blood into the air.

"What a terrifying illusion..."

A tall, powerfully built Mist Anbu with dark skin and bloodshot eyes gritted his teeth as he assessed the situation.

Swish!

A flash of silver sliced through the air.

A heartbeat later, the Kiri ninja's body was cleanly severed—only for it to dissolve into a puddle of water, slowly seeping into the sea beneath him.

"Your water clone technique isn't half bad either."

Itachi's blade passed through the clone without resistance, but his expression remained unreadable. With a slight tilt of his head, he shifted his focus to the water's surface on his left.

There, his opponent surfaced, hands already forming seals.

"To face the infamous 'Sharingan Itachi'—what an honor."

Despite his words, Hoshigaki Kisame's expression was grim, betraying none of the supposed admiration in his tone.

His entire body remained submerged in the seawater, his small, sharp eyes locked onto his opponent, while the muscles in his face twitched involuntarily.

This illusion... it's terrifying. If I hadn't broken free through self-inflicted pain, I'd probably be dead by now.

As an Anbu of Kiri, Kisame had suffered misfortune after misfortune. He had lost all his comrades in this war, left once again to face the battlefield alone.

Ironically, it was his notorious reputation that sealed his fate—he had been chosen as the last man standing, tasked with covering the retreat.

Kisame hadn't resisted the order; he had accepted it with unsettling composure.

Yet, the adversary fate had dealt him was far from ordinary.

Against most opponents, even without Samehada in his possession, he could have dominated the battle by leveraging his advantage in the water.

But this Uchiha...

This young genjutsu specialist had forced Kisame to confront the sheer difficulty of fighting against a master of genjutsu.

"Water Style: Water Shark Bullet!"

As he completed the hand seals, chakra surged through his body, forming a jutsu similar to the Water Dragon Bullet—only this time, shaped into a torrent of water in the form of ravenous sharks, rushing toward Itachi with lethal precision.

Caww! Caww! Caww!

Before Kisame's eyes, his ninjutsu struck—but instead of his target, a flock of crows scattered into the sky.

Without a moment's hesitation, he plunged back into the water, his kunai once again sinking into the thick muscle of his own body.

"This guy..."

Itachi narrowed his gaze, feeling a twinge of frustration. His opponent was relentless—overflowing with chakra, perfectly suited to the aquatic battlefield, and far too cautious to expose a single opening.

The moment anything seemed amiss, Kisame submerged, making it incredibly difficult to land a decisive blow.

Do I really have to use Tsukuyomi?

Rubbing his eyes, Itachi quickly dismissed the thought.

Tsukuyomi came with a heavy toll. Using it here, in the middle of enemy territory, was far from ideal.

—

"Oryaaa!"

Suddenly, a loud cry broke through the tension.

"Konoha Whirlwind!"

Elsewhere on the battlefield, a towering, bulky Kiri ninja was about to bring down his massive blade, Samehada, upon his opponent—only to have his attack interrupted.

Dressed in his signature eccentric attire, Might Guy sprang into action. Without hesitation, he spun into a vicious roundhouse kick, his foot slicing through the air as he aimed directly at the enemy.

"That ridiculous green jumpsuit… You're that brat from back then!!"

The Fuguki's fat face twitched as he stared at the young man before him—now fully grown into his twenties. And standing beside him were two other familiar faces.

His grip on Samehada faltered slightly, hands trembling with unease.

"I never expected to meet you on the battlefield again." He took a cautious step, aligning himself with his companion. "But… we are no longer the helpless kids from back then!"

Across from them, Aoba, Ebisu, and Shiranui Genma exchanged glances, their expressions sharpening with determination. Memories of past battles resurfaced, but this time, they were prepared.

"Genma, Ebisu, cover me!"

Might Guy's gaze locked onto Fuguki, as if etching every detail of his opponent into memory.

Then, with a deep breath, he began his technique.

"Eight Gates Release… First Gate: The Gate of Opening—Open!"

"Second Gate: The Gate of Healing—Open!"

"Third—"

Before Guy could finish, the Fuguki spun on his heels and bolted without hesitation.

"Nope, I'm not dealing with this!"

He stormed off, cursing Mei under his breath.

Damn that woman! She actually ordered me to stay behind and cover her retreat…

And now, I've run straight into my worst nightmare.

Same ridiculous outfit. Same wild, untamed energy. Same devastating taijutsu.

The mere memory of that fateful battle sent a shudder through Fuguki. That day, one man—one absurdly dressed lunatic—had turned the Seven Ninja Swordsmen into nothing more than the Three Lucky Survivors.

Back then, they had numbers on their side, yet it still wasn't enough. If not for Samehada's ability to heal his wounds, he might not have lived to regret it.

This time, there were no disposable pawns to take the brunt of the attack. No distractions.

Just him.

Nope. Not happening.

Without a second thought, he turned and bolted.

"Running away? Tch… it won't help you!"

Guy didn't give immediate chase. Instead, he took a steady stance, his muscles tensing as he gathered power.

"Fourth Gate… The Gate of Pain—Open!"

BOOM!

A shockwave erupted from his body, sending a violent ripple through the seawater, churning the surface into chaos.

"Guy… you…"

Ebisu and Genma instinctively shielded themselves from the sheer force radiating off their comrade, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Is the gap between us really this huge…?"

But neither of them was as terrified as Fuguki.

Feeling the monstrous energy surging behind him, he had only one thought:

I NEED MORE LEGS.

With zero hesitation, he plunged headfirst into the ocean.

The sea was the only place that still felt safe.

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