Sage Arts.
In the shinobi world, this was a power mastered only by a select few. Were there more proper historical records, one would quickly realize that nearly all those who had ever wielded Sage Arts were contract holders of the Three Great Sacred Grounds: Mount Myōboku, Ryūchi Cave, and Shikkotsu Forest.
Because—
The methods of training in Sage Arts were passed down only in those three holy places. And learning Sage Arts required not only a complete set of theories and methods, but also the aid of external catalysts. For example, training in Mount Myōboku's Sage Arts required the help of its unique "toad oil." Without that oil to sense natural energy, one could exhaust a lifetime and still never even step through the threshold.
Ryūchi Cave's methods differed from those of Mount Myōboku—
But they too required the support of the cave itself.
Shikkotsu Forest—
The same.
"What's this? Where did this human learn Sage Arts? No toad stench, no slug's sticky reek…"
Manda, summoned from Ryūchi Cave, had never mastered Sage Arts himself, but his knowledge far surpassed that of wild summon beasts. He recognized Sage Arts at once—
And fell into deep confusion.
For in his understanding, Sage Arts were inseparably tied to the Three Great Sacred Grounds. A Sage practitioner's body should always carry the scent of their place of origin. Yet now… this human before him wielded Sage Arts, but bore none of their scents!
"Sage Mode? And that appearance…"
At this moment, Orochimaru narrowed his golden eyes.
The situation—
Had taken an unexpected turn.
"Mei, Yūsuke, you two—take Jūzō-senpai along with that slacker over there and move out first. I'll stay behind as the rearguard."
Kyoichi lifted his gaze to the massive purple serpent before him, and to Orochimaru standing atop its head.
At this moment—
He had fully entered Sage Mode.
His jet-black pupils were tinged with a glow of crimson-gold. Dark red markings framed his eyes, and the aura around him had grown ethereal yet vast, as though he were one with the world itself. Just by standing there, he gave off the sense of an immovable mountain.
"Oi, oi, don't make me sound like some heartless bastard! Orochimaru fried me half to death with his lightning—I've been paralyzed this whole time! Only just now have I managed to recover a bit. It's not that I didn't want to help!"
A mass of clear water seeped up from the cracks in the rocks, molding itself into human form.
White hair. Violet eyes.
Hōzuki Mangetsu.
The prodigy of the Hōzuki clan, beloved by the Seven Swords of the Mist, now studied Kyoichi with eyes full of curiosity.
"But you've got sharp senses, huh? I barely crept up and you already noticed… You're the one who killed Hanzō of the Salamander, aren't you?"
"Quit running your mouth, brat! Get over here and give this old man a hand already!"
Jūzō Biwa barked irritably.
As one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, he was very familiar with Mangetsu, this genius favored by the swords themselves, and his words carried not the slightest politeness.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!"
Mangetsu didn't mind Jūzō's sharp tongue in the slightest. He quickly hurried over, intent on offering his shoulder—only to awkwardly realize once he got close that their height difference made it almost impossible.
Mangetsu's face darkened immediately.
Height.
It was his greatest sore spot.
Though the Hōzuki clan had no short-statured bloodline, his growth just refused to catch up. It was a problem that haunted him to this day.
"I'll do it."
Yūsuke stepped up beside Jūzō, his height just right for the injured swordsman to lean on.
Mangetsu's face grew even darker as he looked at Yūsuke—clearly a head taller than him.
"Kyoichi, this is Orochimaru we're talking about. You alone as rearguard…"
Terumī Mei's eyes were locked on Kyoichi.
"I might not be able to defeat Orochimaru the way I did Hanzō, but in my current state, I can hold him off long enough. Once you've gotten far enough, I'll seize an opening to retreat. Don't forget, Earth Release is my specialty—on land, there's no one who can stop me from escaping."
Kyoichi's gaze remained fixed on Orochimaru.
He did not dare relax for even a breath.
Even as he answered Mei, his attention never wavered.
But—
Telling only the girl was useless.
"Jūzō-senpai, you heard me too, didn't you? Withdraw first. I'll be the rearguard. If there's no objection, please give the order!"
In this rescue squad, Jūzō was the captain. Kyoichi was only his vice-captain. Unless Jūzō was incapacitated or voluntarily yielded command, no action could be taken without his word.
Kyoichi could only propose.
"…Kyoichi, kid, I'll leave it to you!"
Jūzō gritted his teeth.
He hated hiding behind comrades.
But—
He had been the first to fall to Orochimaru's assault, his leg crippled. Even if he wanted to stay as rearguard, he simply could not. To remain behind now would mean certain death, and worse, he would never hold Orochimaru back at all.
Which left only Kyoichi.
There was no better choice.
Now, the only thing to do was trust in him, retreat as quickly as possible, and minimize the time Kyoichi had to face Orochimaru alone. Anything else would only reduce their survival chances.
"Yūsuke, Mei, Mangetsu—we're withdrawing."
Jūzō's voice rang firm.
Yūsuke, supporting him, gave Kyoichi one last glance. He said nothing—only tightened his grip and led Jūzō back along their route. Deep in his eyes burned frustration and self-reproach—he could never seem to help Kyoichi when it mattered most.
He wasn't alone.
Terumī Mei bit her lip, fists clenched tight. For the first time, she resented her own age. If only she were two or three years older—perhaps she could have stayed behind with Kyoichi.
Mangetsu followed in silence, trailing behind Jūzō and Mei. His mind, however, churned restlessly. If they survived this, should he spend his efforts mastering the dual swords Hiramekarei? Or continue delving into his clan's secret arts?
He had had enough of this weakness.
First, his humiliating defeat at the hands of that bowl-cut man in green from Konoha. Now, being utterly crushed by Orochimaru.
The back-to-back defeats burned like fire in his chest.
And in silence, Hōzuki Mangetsu swore:
One day-he would take it all back!