The Story Behind The Sword of The Thunder God

Smoke curled in lazy spirals above Aoi's head, the dim lantern light barely illuminating the room's haze. He exhaled slowly, letting the burn of cheap tobacco settle in his chest as he leaned back into the plush cushions. Aoi wasn't an extravagant man, but after years of clawing his way out of mediocrity, he had learned to enjoy certain indulgences. The warmth of the woman straddling his lap, her hands tracing idle patterns against his vest, was one such luxury.

'Hmph, the old man still has use for me, huh?'

 The words were carefully crafted, laced with just enough temptation to keep him interested. A deal. An opportunity. And most importantly—the location of the Thunder God Sword.

A slow, almost bitter smirk played across his lips.

The sword of the Second Hokage… the symbol of his childhood dream. A dream that had died a long time ago, back when he realized that talent—true talent—was something you were born with.

Aoi took a long drag from his cigarette, the memories creeping in unbidden.

Like every academy student, he had idolized the Hokages, their strength, their techniques, their legends. Hashirama, the god of the battlefield. Hiruzen, the professor. Minato, the unstoppable Yellow Flash. But for Aoi, no one compared to Tobirama Senju. The man built the modern shinobi world. His legacy wasn't just power—it was control. Order. Structure. 

And most of all, his sword.

Aoi had studied every mention of it, obsessed over every documented battle it was used in. A blade infused with chakra, a weapon that could give a mere mortal the power of a Kage. That was what he needed. Not talent. Not a famous name. Just one weapon.

But life was cruel.

While Kakashi was soaring through the ranks, while prodigies like Itachi were being hailed as the next generation's greatest warriors, Aoi had been shoved into the background. A no-name shinobi among no-name classmates. A side character in someone else's story.

Then came the war.

He was sent on a simple supply run—nothing glorious, nothing heroic. And then the ambush happened. His entire squad, classmates he had trained beside, laughed with, argued with—slaughtered. He remembered the fear, the rage, the humiliation of knowing he was too weak to do anything.

Then he woke up in a cave, his body broken, barely alive. And there was Shinno.

A kindly old man, a wandering merchant caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had treated Aoi's wounds, listened to his frustrations, and offered him a gift.

A single pill.

Aoi had swallowed it without hesitation. Anything to be stronger. Anything to claw his way out of mediocrity.

The pain had been unimaginable. His body had burned, his bones felt like they were shattering from the inside out. He had screamed, curled up in agony, but when he awoke—he felt new. Stronger than ever before.

Shinno had given him a second chance.

The pill had changed everything.

Back then, after he swallowed that burning dose of power, he had returned to the village as the only survivor of his squad. His mission had been a failure, his teammates dead, but no one questioned him. No one suspected a thing.

Instead, he was commended for making it back alive.

And after that? The war had become an opportunity.

His chakra swelled beyond what it had ever been, his body stronger, faster. He learned to wield Water Release techniques at a level he never could before. The waves bent to his will, his jutsu struck harder, faster. He wasn't Kakashi, he wasn't an Uchiha, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't just a background character.

He climbed the ranks—Chūnin during the war, then Jōnin after leading his squad through field promotions. All thanks to the pills.

But power came with a price.

The effects never lasted. The first few times, the strength lasted weeks before fading, his body reverting back to what it once was. Then it was days. He had gone back to Shinno, expecting another handout, another miracle.

And Shinno, ever the generous man, had obliged.

For a price.

At first, it was small things—stolen techniques. Scrolls from other nations, smuggled out of border towns, taken from dead shinobi. Then it was money. Then information. Then missions.

The deals became riskier. Sometimes they went smoothly—sometimes they nearly got him killed. And worse, sometimes people started looking at him. Questioning him. Watching him.

But the power… the power was worth it.

Aoi could picture the old man now, sitting in a relaxed sprawl, surrounded by luxury—fine sake, silk cushions, a woman lazily draped across his lap. His fingers traced slow circles along the woman's back, his other hand holding a smoking pipe. He looked every bit the wealthy merchant he pretended to be.

He had learned a lot from Shinno over the years—especially bad habits, particularly women. But right now, he was focused on something else.

 The Thunder God Sword. He had plenty of time to talk to the old merchant and he knew how much he fantasized about the sword about his dreams of wielding such power.

And now, years later, the old man was offering him something else: his childhood dream.

Aoi set the scroll down, his fingers tapping against the wooden table as he considered his options. He didn't trust Shinno—not entirely. The man had always been a bit too smooth, too prepared. But he had never steered Aoi wrong before.

The Thunder God Sword… If Shinno was telling the truth, then this was it. His chance to finally step into the light.

"Something wrong?" the woman in his lap purred, pressing closer to him.

Aoi exhaled smoke through his nose, his smirk returning.

"Not at all doll," he murmured. "In fact… I think my luck's about to change."

With a lazy stretch, he flicked the cigarette into a nearby ashtray and stood, letting the woman slide off him. He rolled up the scroll and tucked it into his vest. He had preparations to make.

Shinno had given him power before. Now, he was offering greatness.

And Aoi was ready to take it.

Even if it meant stepping on anyone who got in his way.

Aoi leaned back in his chair, stirring his cup of tea lazily as his student sat across from him, practically glowing under his praise. The small, dimly lit café was just quiet enough for their conversation to go unnoticed, but lively enough that no one would bother eavesdropping.

"You've really improved, Idate," Aoi said smoothly, watching the boy's reaction closely. "Your taijutsu's sharper, your reaction time has gotten better, and I hear you've been training extra hours after missions."

Idate smirked, crossing his arms. "Heh, well, of course! Hard work pays off, right?"

Aoi chuckled. The boy was arrogant, but that made him easy to manipulate.

"That's what I like to hear," Aoi continued, his tone warm, encouraging. "You remind me of myself at your age—hungry for success, eager to prove yourself. But let's be honest, Idate…" He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "You're in a tough spot, aren't you?"

Idate's smirk faltered just a little.

Aoi took a slow sip of his tea before setting it down. "Being the little brother of Ibiki Morino, everyone expects you to follow in his footsteps. A Jōnin, a pillar of the village, the head of the Torture and Interrogation Force…" He trailed off, watching as Idate's fingers twitched against the table.

The boy's voice was quieter when he spoke. "Yeah… I hear it all the time."

"Of course you do," Aoi said smoothly. "They expect you to be just like him—but you're not. You're your own shinobi, with your own path to carve out." He let the words settle for a moment before delivering the hook. "That's why I want to help you."

Idate looked up, curious. "Help me?"

Aoi smiled. "Tell me, Idate… do you really want to go through another Chūnin Exam?"

The boy stiffened.

The failure from the first round of the last exam still weighed on him. He had let his frustration get the best of him. When the test proctors had demanded an answer to the final question, threatening their future as shinobi, he had hesitated. And then, like an idiot, he had raised his hand, alongside his teammates.

Failure.

Aoi watched the emotions flicker in the boy's eyes before leaning in. "I have a secret test—one that can let you skip the Chūnin Exams entirely. You pass, and you'll be promoted right away."

Idate's eyes widened. "Wait—what?! Are you serious?!"

Aoi gave a slow nod. "Completely. But this is not for the weak-hearted. It's a real-world test—a mission that will prove you're ready for Chūnin. No written exams, no stupid tournament battles. Just a true shinobi mission. You complete it, and I'll make sure the right people know of your success."

Idate swallowed, his fingers tightening into a fist. This was it. His chance to make up for that failure, to prove he wasn't just Ibiki's little brother.

"I'm in," he said firmly.

Aoi smirked. "Good. Then listen carefully."

He slid a small, folded map across the table.

"This mission requires stealth. You will need to sneak into a location undetected, retrieve something important, and get out. If you're caught… well, let's just say it won't end well." Aoi let the words hang ominously. "The location marked on this map is a base outside the village. It holds valuable information, and I need you to retrieve it."

Idate's excitement dimmed just slightly. "And if I get caught?"

Aoi's expression darkened. "Then you'll be stripped of your shinobi license. There will be no second chances."

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then, slowly, Idate took the map and gripped it tightly.

Aoi saw the determination in the boy's eyes. Perfect.

"You leave tonight," Aoi said. "But before that, there's something else you need to do."

Idate blinked. "What?"

Aoi leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your brother keeps a lot of interesting information at home, doesn't he? Files, notes… things that might relate to a certain someone named Danzō."

Idate hesitated.

"He does," he admitted. "I've seen some stuff in his office, but I never really paid attention to it."

Aoi nodded. "Well, now's your chance. Before we leave, you're going to sneak into your brother's office, find anything useful about Danzō, and bring it to me. Consider it part of the test."

Idate frowned, shifting slightly. "If my brother finds out—"

"He won't find out," Aoi interrupted smoothly. "You're a shinobi, aren't you? You should know how to be discreet. Prove it."

That was all it took. Idate nodded, clenching his fist. "I'll do it Sensei."

Aoi grinned, lifting his cup of tea once more.

"Good. Then we leave as soon as you have what we need."