Near noon, two figures darted through the dense Konoha forest, leaping swiftly between branches—one leading, the other following close behind.
At the front was Kakashi, his face cold and expression numb. His eyes were lifeless, hollowed by grief. After losing his father, his friends, and now both his Sensei and Sensei's wife, Kakashi was on the brink of emotional collapse.
Concerned for his friend, Guy had dragged him out for a competition, hoping to pull Kakashi out of his downward spiral.
Normally, Kakashi would have refused such a meaningless challenge. But now, even he needed something—anything—to take his mind off the pain.
"Hah…"
Guy exhaled deeply as he came to a stop on the edge of a large lake, his legs half-buried in the damp soil. He turned to the figure who had just arrived beside him, flashing a bright, toothy grin.
"38 wins, 38 losses. We're tied again, Kakashi."
Kakashi didn't respond. He was too out of breath to speak.
Racing against a physical powerhouse like Guy left no room for slacking. Kakashi was at his limit—his body soaked in sweat, clothes clinging to him like a second skin.
But as he stared out at the still, sparkling lake, a strange sense of calm washed over him. It was quiet here. Peaceful. For a moment, it felt like the weight on his heart had lightened, sweating out some of the sorrow.
If only the village could be as peaceful as this lake...
The thought had barely formed when a sudden wave of water surged toward him.
Kakashi stumbled slightly, caught off guard.
"Wind?" he muttered. "No—ninjutsu!"
Immediately, he dropped into a defensive stance and leapt onto a nearby tree, blending into its shadowy cover.
Guy landed beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Kakashi. It's not an enemy. Probably just someone practicing ninjutsu."
Kakashi paused, taking a moment to analyze. Guy was right—the jutsu hadn't packed much power. If it had been an actual attack, it would've done more than splash them.
Just as he was about to investigate, Kakashi's eyes drifted to Guy's drenched clothing.
His wasn't soaked from the lake.
Noticing Kakashi's glance, Guy chuckled knowingly. "I guess you didn't dodge fast enough, huh? That wave wasn't even that quick."
Kakashi said nothing. He turned and jumped toward the lake, expression stiff.
Losing to Guy in a race was one thing—but getting soaked like that? A little too embarrassing.
Now, Kakashi had a new mission: find the one responsible for the water wave… and exact a bit of payback to salvage his pride.
Kakashi wasn't usually the type to be petty. But right now, he felt like indulging in a little revenge.
Whether he would succeed or not wasn't even a question. Judging from that earlier ninjutsu, the caster couldn't be stronger than a mid-level chunin.
"Kakashi, wait for me!"
Guy sprinted after him, keeping pace.
It didn't take long to find the person responsible. The source of the ninjutsu wasn't far, and soon, they caught sight of the figure.
Kakashi stopped, narrowing his eyes. "Orochimaru… It's him?"
"Orochimaru-sama?" Guy blinked in confusion. "He was the one who cast that ninjutsu? But it was so weak…"
Kakashi shared the same doubt—but no matter how curious they were, even Guy wouldn't be foolish enough to question one of the Legendary Sannin to his face.
"Ah well," Guy said with a sigh. "If it's Orochimaru, then forget it. No revenge today. Let's just go."
But Kakashi placed a hand on Guy's shoulder, stopping him. "Let's stay and watch a bit longer."
"That's… not a good idea."
"We're not hiding. We're just standing here. If he notices us, we'll say we stumbled upon him by accident."
"…Fine."
While the two whispered to each other, Orochimaru continued his ninjutsu practice without pause. Kakashi's sharp eyes picked up something interesting.
"His ninjutsu… it's perfectly controlled."
"Controlled? Didn't seem like much to me," Guy said, frowning. "It looked weak. Even a genin could try that."
"You don't get it," Kakashi replied. "He's refining technique. Using the least chakra possible to maximize the jutsu's effect. That takes exceptional skill and chakra control."
He turned his eyes back to Orochimaru.
Kakashi could pull off that kind of precision too, but only with jutsu he was deeply familiar with. Orochimaru, on the other hand, was chaining through multiple techniques with ease. The title of Sannin wasn't just for show.
"Oh… I see," Guy said, though he clearly didn't.
His Taijutsu-focused style didn't require chakra finesse, and he barely knew any ninjutsu at all.
"This is boring. Let's go."
"Alright," Kakashi nodded. Watching wouldn't help much. Improving chakra control wasn't something that came from observation alone.
But just then, Orochimaru shifted. The jutsu stopped, and he summoned a sword from the mouth of a snake.
Kakashi's breath caught. The blade was exquisite—clearly a rare weapon, finer even than the heirloom his family once passed down.
"Wait," he said quickly. "Let's keep watching."
---
"This sword… is it called the Kusanagi Sword?"
The lamp spirit gently wiped the saliva off the blade and nodded. "A good name. A better sword."
"But you don't seem satisfied with it," Orochimaru noted, narrowing his eyes. "You're holding it, but thinking of another."
"…Is it that obvious?"
The lamp spirit gave a small nod. "In my last world, my master was a swordsman. I spent years by his side. So naturally, when I hold a new blade, I compare it to the one from back then."
"Was his sword… exceptional?"
Orochimaru's curiosity deepened. Any information about another world or the lamp spirit's former master intrigued him.
But the spirit didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, "What kinds of weapons do ninja use?"
He didn't wait for a reply.
"Senbon, kunai, shuriken, short swords… there are many types."
"But in my old world, ghost hunters used only one thing—swords."
"They fought demons with physical prowess far greater than their own, using nothing but their blades. Often, a broken sword meant certain death."
"So tell me—don't you think such a sword is strong?"
Orochimaru paused. Then he nodded slowly.
A weapon that decides life or death—that kind of sword must be strong.
"Good," the lamp spirit said, turning to the lake, sword now slung across his back. "That world belonged to swordsmen. No flashy ninjutsu. No element-based techniques. Just pure swordsmanship honed to its absolute limit."
"I've been worried," he added, "that this body of yours wouldn't be strong enough to contain it—that it wouldn't be able to showcase the power of swordsmanship."
"So prepare yourself."
He drew the blade, facing the lake.
"This might hurt."
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