On the surface of the lake, the lamp spirit stood waist-deep in the water. He positioned the Kusanagi Sword at his left side, gripping the hilt with his right hand, and assumed the stance of a swordsman preparing to draw.
Inside his own consciousness, Orochimaru focused intently, monitoring every change occurring in his body.
To the lamp spirit, the variety of weapons in the ninja world reflected quantity over quality. Still, that didn't mean there weren't skilled swordsmen among the shinobi—far from it. There were indeed powerful sword techniques in this world.
Like Hatake Sakumo, known as "White Fang," who gained fame using Konoha-ryu swordsmanship. Or Senju Tobirama, with his deadly, precise Flying Raijin Slash.
Orochimaru knew of these men. He respected their skill. But now, he was eager to witness a sword style from another world.
"Water Breathing…"
The lamp spirit clenched his teeth, and a fierce suction erupted from his mouth. A visible vortex of air twisted and funneled into his throat.
In that moment, Orochimaru felt a surge in his chest. His lungs rapidly expanded, drawing in oxygen like a drowning man gasping for life.
Boom boom boom…
His heart pounded like a war drum. Fueled by his lungs, every drop of oxygen-rich blood surged through his veins like soldiers charging into battle.
Orochimaru could feel it—his physical strength skyrocketing.
On the outside, his body swelled slightly. Veins bulged beneath his pale skin, and every capillary became visible.
He tried to exhale, but his body was no longer under his control. The lamp spirit wasn't done.
He continued inhaling, imprinting a foreign discipline onto Orochimaru's body—a breathing technique, forced into muscle memory through brute will.
Breathing was the foundation of this swordsmanship. Every move depended on it. Without this enhanced respiration, the style couldn't be performed at all.
Now, Orochimaru understood why the lamp spirit had warned him.
This training wasn't meant to be rushed. The body required years to adapt to the breathing method. And yet, they were condensing that torment into mere minutes.
It was a shortcut, yes. But one that came with a heavy price.
Just as Orochimaru thought he might burst from the overload of oxygen, the body moved on its own.
What followed was a sequence of sword strikes—violent, fluid, relentless—like a landslide crashing into the sea.
"Water Breathing, First Form—Water Surface Slash!"
A powerful arc of chakra-infused steel cut through the air.
"Water Breathing, Sixth Form—Whirlpool Flow!"
Each technique flowed into the next, chakra merging perfectly with the Kusanagi Sword. Slash after slash carved through the calm lake, sending waves rippling outward.
"Water Breathing, Tenth Form—Constant Flux!"
…
From the shore, two observers watched in stunned silence.
Kakashi and Gai exchanged a glance. What they saw shook them—more than either of them cared to admit.
Kakashi, trained since birth in Konoha's swordsmanship, was no stranger to technique. But this—this was something different. Something deeper.
Something terrifying.
In Orochimaru's view—and this was the general consensus among all shinobi—swordsmanship was simply another means to kill. No different from shuriken, ninjutsu, or explosive tags.
For close combat, Taijutsu and kunai were more efficient—so you used Taijutsu. For long-range attacks or distractions, shuriken and explosive tags did the job. Facing a crowd? Use wide-range ninjutsu to clear the field.
Ninjas were versatile. Their strength lay in adaptability—knowing what method worked best in any situation.
Kakashi had always seen the Third Hokage as the ideal ninja. No matter the opponent, the Third could always find the perfect response.
But today, Kakashi saw a completely different path.
The swordsmanship Orochimaru displayed didn't follow the rules of the ninja world. It defied conventional understanding.
Close combat? Eat my sword.
Long-range interference? Eat my sword.
Group combat? Eat my sword.
It was ridiculous—but also undeniably powerful.
This wasn't just sword fighting. Kakashi saw a complete system of swordsmanship in Orochimaru's movements.
Before today, he had only ever witnessed sword techniques. Even his father, the famed White Fang, was ultimately a ninja who specialized in close-quarters swordplay—not a true swordsman.
"So strong…" Gai muttered under his breath.
He lacked Kakashi's technical knowledge, but he could see one thing clearly: Orochimaru's swordsmanship was incredibly refined. Not a single movement wasted chakra. Every ounce of energy was focused into the blade.
If Gai could learn that kind of control, it would be a massive boost to his Taijutsu.
He scratched his head, wondering if Lord Orochimaru was accepting disciples.
Then again… even if he wasn't, Gai would just work harder. One way or another, he'd prove himself worthy.
---
"Breathe…"
"Breathe…"
Orochimaru's body gradually adjusted. The sword strikes became smoother—more natural.
With a sword in hand, the world felt within reach.
As the one experiencing it firsthand, Orochimaru understood far more than Kakashi or Gai ever could.
This swordsmanship—this art—was something else entirely. The lamp spirit hadn't exaggerated. If anything, he had downplayed it.
Orochimaru could sense it: beyond chakra, the Kusanagi Sword carried another type of energy. Subtle, pure—and powerful.
That energy elevated his sword techniques, pushing their destructive power to a whole new tier. Even now, with only mid-level chakra reserves and average Jonin-level physical strength, Orochimaru could clash briefly with a Kage-tier opponent.
That shouldn't have been possible.
And yet, Water Breathing made it real.
As he committed the sword forms to memory, Orochimaru split part of his consciousness to study the energy clinging to the Kusanagi. He wanted to uncover its secrets.
But the moment he made contact, a soft, serene sensation overwhelmed him. His awareness was pulled into a tranquil vision, his mind swept along toward the source of the energy.
It was like a dream… or an illusion.
He forgot about the sword techniques. His thoughts drifted. His consciousness began to unravel.
If it went on any longer, he would've been lost entirely.
"Ah…"
The lamp spirit chuckled, a deep, thunderous sound that echoed through Orochimaru's mind, snapping him out of the trance.
"So close," he teased. "Just a little longer, and I'd have scored my first host kill. The ironic kind, too."
Orochimaru ignored the mockery and muttered in disbelief, "Is this… natural energy?"
"Maybe," the lamp spirit replied vaguely. "But not the kind you're thinking of."
Orochimaru fell silent, deep in thought.
It was as the lamp spirit said—this energy was similar to the natural energy from Ryuchi Cave, but fundamentally different. Purer. Untainted.
That was why he hadn't recognized it right away.
Impure natural energy had its uses, of course—it could grant immortality, if you could withstand the side effects. But this… this energy transcended that. It didn't distort the body—it enveloped consciousness in such peaceful clarity, it became nearly impossible to control.
Still, the swordsmanship of this other world had sparked a new idea.
They infused natural energy into their swords. Could he, too, channel natural energy through external objects?
Orochimaru was eager to test it.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," the lamp spirit smirked. "We've still got one more move to try."
His smile widened.
"If you can pull it off, you might just get your shot at wielding natural energy too."
_________
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