This was Orochimaru's first time seeing one of the "Seven Ninja Swordsmen" of Kirigakure.
He had heard the stories of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen countless times before, but for various reasons, he had never actually crossed paths with them.
The reason was simple—
The Kiri-nin dwelled far out at sea.
They rarely interfered in the affairs of the mainland, appearing only during the great shinobi wars to stir up chaos. And during the Second Shinobi World War, when the young Sannin first made a name for themselves, their battles were fought mainly in the western theater, clashing with the Ame-nin, the Suna-nin, and the Iwa-nin. They had little involvement in the eastern front.
It wasn't until this Third Shinobi World War—
For his own personal reasons—that Orochimaru deliberately came to the eastern front to fight the Kiri-nin. He had already played a role in breaking through one of Kirigakure's major bases, and now, at last, he finally laid eyes on one of the 7 Ninja Swords: the Blastsword: Shibuki.
Only—
It failed to spark much interest in him.
"Doesn't look like anything special," Orochimaru remarked bluntly.
After all, it was nothing more than a weapon that relied on explosive tags to kill. There was nothing ingenious about it—certainly nothing compared to his Sword of Kusanagi. Each of his swords had its own unique use, far more fascinating than that clumsy lump Hōzuki Mangetsu was holding.
Bang!
The Blastsword: Shibuki in Mangetsu's hand dissipated into white smoke.
He knew full well—
That thing alone couldn't deal with Orochimaru.
The 7 Ninja Swords seemed to each have their own specialty, but as the prodigy chosen by the blades—able to wield all seven—Mangetsu understood better than most that the weapons were not equals. There was a hierarchy.
Among them—
The Great Blade: Samehada and the Twin Blades: Kiba were the strongest.
The others—the Kubikiribōchō, the Thunder Blade: Kiba, the Long Blade: Nuibari, the Blunt Blade: Kabutowari, and the Blastsword: Shibuki—were filler. Not entirely useless, no, but their effectiveness was middling at best.
At most, they could raise a shinobi to the level of an elite jōnin. But to ascend higher with those alone? Impossible.
By contrast, the Samehada and Kiba each possessed unique powers, enough to raise even a shinobi with no bloodline limit and no secret arts to the very pinnacle of the shinobi world.
At present—
The Great Blade: Samehada was still in the hands of Suikazan Fuguki.
As for the Twin Blades: Kiba, their wielder had died in an earlier raid on Konoha's rear lines. Mangetsu had taken possession of them afterward, but their difficulty to master was among the highest of the seven. Even for him—the prodigy favored by the blades—full control would take time.
Especially against an opponent like Orochimaru, to wield a sword he had not yet mastered would be the same as gambling his life. His use of the Blastsword earlier had been nothing more than the quickest, least exhausting way to force his way out of Orochimaru's body.
To face Orochimaru head-on—
He had to rely on his clan's inherited Water Transformation Technique.
"Water Release: Hail!"
Mangetsu lunged at Orochimaru, hands flashing through seals before he spat out a volley of needle-like water bullets, scattering like shotgun pellets.
Once again—
Orochimaru's body was riddled full of holes, like a sieve.
"Another substitution…?" Mangetsu muttered warily, scanning his surroundings.
But this time, Orochimaru's perforated body did not collapse into mud. Instead, his mouth stretched open unnaturally wide, and from within crawled another Orochimaru—slick with mucus, entirely unscathed. That Orochimaru's mouth then opened, disgorging a serpent, which in turn spat forth a blade so sharp it pierced straight through Mangetsu's chest.
This grotesque sequence—man from mouth, serpent from man, blade from serpent—left Mangetsu stunned.
And caught completely off guard.
He failed to dodge the Kusanagi, whose reach was monstrously long.
Of course—
He wasn't too worried. The Hōzuki clan's Hydrification Technique allowed their bodies to liquefy into water, rendering them immune to virtually all physical attacks. Blunt force, blades—it made no difference. None could harm them.
But then—
Crackle!!
Lightning erupted. Arcs of electricity snaked down the Kusanagi like living serpents, searing into Mangetsu's liquefied body.
"H-how… h-how did you kn-know Lightning Release counters Hydrification!?" Mangetsu's face twisted in shock and pain.
The electricity paralyzed his body, leaving him completely immobile. Even his voice came out broken and stuttering.
"Because I researched it," Orochimaru replied calmly.
He reached out, grasped the Kusanagi still protruding from the serpent's mouth, and made the snake swallow it back down. Smiling pleasantly, he looked at the immobilized Mangetsu.
"There's no need to be so surprised. Your clan has worked hard to conceal the weakness of the Hydrification Technique, but no secret stays hidden forever. Not in this world."
"In my view, instead of desperately trying to hide the weakness, the Hōzuki clan should have worked to overcome it—or at least stop relying so heavily on a technique with such an obvious flaw. Better to assume every opponent you face might wield Lightning Release."
"...Y-you're not… going to kill me?" Mangetsu stared at him.
A seasoned warrior like Orochimaru had no reason to waste words on a defeated enemy. Hydrification only made one immune to conventional blows—it was not true immortality. Now that Orochimaru knew Lightning Release was the counter, killing him should have been easy.
The only reason he was still alive—
Was because Orochimaru intended it.
"Of course not."
Orochimaru admitted without hesitation, his tone almost cheerful. "Though your corpse has value, it pales in comparison to the worth of you alive. If the opportunity allows, I much prefer to take you alive. And today… fortune seems to smile on me. I didn't expect you to face me alone. Truly, my luck is good."
On his face—
A delighted smile.
On Mangetsu's—
Utter despair.
Losing wasn't the problem. He could accept defeat.
But to be beaten so utterly, so helplessly—unable even to take his own life…
That was the true humiliation.
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