The vast training grounds of the Daimyō's estate stretched before them. Hoshita Shūichi and his team faced the six shinobi the Fire Daimyō had recruited—all men.
Two appeared middle-aged, around forty. The other four were younger but still older than Namikaze Minato, likely in their twenties.
Their eyes...
Hoshita Shūichi suppressed a grimace. Where'd the Daimyō dredge up these rogue-nin?
A black-robed youth among them sneered. "Is Konoha so desperate they sent kids to test us?"
The audacity!
A goateed man beside him chuckled. "Don't underestimate them. They're from a major village. Underestimating kids on the battlefield gets you killed."
Despite his words, Hoshita Shūichi caught the glint of disdain—no, bloodlust—in the man's eyes.
What's wrong with kids? Did we steal your milk?
Kurama Sanyō cracked his knuckles. "These guys are begging for a beating."
Namikaze Minato rested a calming hand on his shoulder. "Patience."
Another recruit called out, "So how's this 'test' work? Six of us versus four of you seems unfair."
The black-robed youth laughed. "Hey, boss—if we accidentally kill 'em, will Konoha come after us?"
The others turned to their leader—a scar-faced man whose gaze stayed locked on Namikaze Minato.
"Only if you want to die," the leader said flatly.
Arrogance is fine. Stupidity isn't.
A Daimyō attendant announced, "The exchange has two phases!"
"First: one-on-one duels. Each side fields four fighters."
"Second: team battle—four versus four."
"Any objections, Minato-sama, Gu Jianyi-sama?"
Namikaze Minato shook his head. "None."
Gu Jianyi grunted, "Proceed."
The attendant continued, "The Daimyō offers 100,000 ryō per individual victory. The winning team receives a relic—a Kusanagi Sword forged in antiquity, sharp enough to cleave iron and unparalleled in chakra conduction."
Gu Jianyi's stony expression finally flickered. Money's good, but that blade...
He shot his men a warning glare. "No mistakes. Or I'll handle you."
The black-robed youth and the others stiffened, all playfulness gone.
"I'll go first!" the youth declared.
Gu Jianyi nodded.
Namikaze Minato glanced at Uchiha Shisui, but Hoshita Shūichi stepped forward. "Minato-sensei, let me lead."
"Very well," Minato agreed. "Don't overcommit."
Hoshita Shūichi strode onto the field, kunai in one hand, a senbon between his teeth, and his Ame-no-Murakumo Blade drawn.
The black-robed youth scoffed. "A close-combat brat? At his age, how much chakra could he even have?"
Namikaze Minato's team remained unfazed. This was Shūichi's style—every visible weapon a feint.
To Uchiha Shisui, without Hoshita Shūichi's freakish reflexes, the boy's taijutsu and tool usage would be amateurish.
But reflexes were his talent.
This kid's leaking intel like a sieve, the youth thought smugly. Still, he'd go all out—for the prize, and to crush this brat's spirit.
"Hey, kid—try not to cry!"
The youth lunged, shuriken flying from his sleeves.
Hoshita Shūichi deflected them effortlessly, standing firm.
The youth zigzagged, flanking him. As Shūichi blocked more shuriken, the opponent closed in, twin blades flashing from his sleeves.
Hoshita Shūichi dropped into a backbend, the swords grazing his ears.
Thud! Thud!
His kick connected with the youth's wrists. The blades stayed gripped, but the youth staggered back, wincing.
Hoshita Shūichi flipped up and pressed the attack, his blade a silver blur.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew as steel clashed.
"Too slow!"
"Too slow!"
Hoshita Shūichi accelerated with each strike, taunting between breaths.
Sweat beaded on the youth's brow. This speed—
Can't let this drag on.
With a flick of his sleeves, black mist erupted, engulfing them both.
Poison!
"Die, brat!"
Chains shot from the youth's sleeves, binding Hoshita Shūichi's arms. The youth smirked—he'd bitten his antidote capsule earlier.
Outside the mist, Kurama Sanyō tensed. "Shūichi!"
Namikaze Minato held him back. "Remember—he's a medic."
Inside the fog, the youth froze.
The bound Hoshita Shūichi had transformed into a rabbit, slipping the chains.
How?!
Before he could react, the rabbit kicked off his chest, shredding the mist mid-leap.
Hoshita Shūichi reverted to human form mid-air, swallowing an antidote pill.
Fire Release: Fireball Jutsu!
Below, the youth spat a dragon-shaped flame.
Boom!
The explosions scattered the poison. But then—
"Impossible!"
Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!
A rain of fireballs descended. The youth dove for cover as Hoshita Shūichi landed.
The senbon between his teeth shot out like a bullet, piercing the youth's neck as he dodged.
"I yield!" the youth gasped, clutching his throat.
Hoshita Shūichi extended a hand. "Antidote. Now."
Though he'd inhaled minimal poison and taken a pill, he wasn't taking chances.
Grudgingly, the youth tossed him a case with two pills. Shūichi threw one back.
The youth swallowed it, scowling as Hoshita Shūichi watched for adverse effects.
Satisfied, Shūichi turned to the Daimyō's attendant.
"Next."
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