Naruto: King of Hell

Without a word of warning, Shinku made the first move. His figure blurred as he surged forward with remarkable speed, his blade slicing through the air toward Santoryu. Reacting instantly, Santoryu crossed the two swords in his hands to block the strike.

The impact rang out—sharp and forceful.

The clash of steel sent a shock through Santoryu's arms, and the sheer strength behind Shinku's attack forced him back several steps. He slid across the dirt, his boots digging into the ground as he took five paces back before stabilizing himself with a deep exhale.

But he didn't hesitate. As soon as he regained balance, Santoryu dashed forward. With swift precision, he launched a flurry of attacks, each blade moving in perfect coordination. One by one, his swords struck at Shinku from different angles—right hand, left hand, and even the blade clenched between his teeth.

The training ground echoed with the sharp, rhythmic sound of blades clashing—ding, ding, ding, ding—the tempo quick and relentless.

Shinku matched him with measured control, parrying each strike without wasting energy. His movements were smooth, almost effortless, but Santoryu could tell that every deflection was calculated. For five full minutes, the two exchanged blows, their dance of steel precise and intense.

Throughout the spar, Shinku wasn't just testing Santoryu's strength—he was observing his discipline, reading his rhythm, gauging his instincts, and watching how he adapted to pressure.

Finally, Shinku leapt back, putting a safe distance between them. He lowered his weapon, his sharp eyes studying Santoryu with silent calculation.

Then, he spoke.

"Your swordsmanship," he said, "is exceptional for someone your age. The way you control your stance, your awareness, your timing—even very few Chunins possess this level of refinement."

He nodded once, approvingly.

"I recognize your skill. You pass this phase."

Santoryu gave a respectful bow, silently grateful for the acknowledgment, but kept his focus steady.

Shinku continued, his tone shifting slightly as he laid out the next part of the test.

"Now, we move to the final phase of your evaluation," he said. "I want you to demonstrate the sword techniques that you consider your strongest—your so-called 'ultimate moves.' Use them against me with full intent."

He paused briefly, then added, "And if there are any techniques you held back during your fight with the Chūnin instructor the Hokage mentioned, now is the time to show them. I want to see your true potential—not what's written in a report."

The wind stirred the grass around them as the silence settled again.

It was time to reveal the power he had been refining in solitude—techniques that could one day decide life or death on the battlefield.

Santoryu gave a small nod in response, acknowledging the instruction. Without a word, he began sheathing his swords—one by one, each movement calm and deliberate.

It wasn't that he had held back his ultimate moves during the earlier sparring match with Shinku; rather, the opportunity had never arisen. Shinku's precise control of the pace and flow of combat had kept Santoryu on the defensive, allowing little room for him to initiate any advanced techniques. That, in itself, was a testament to Shinku's mastery—his intent had been clear from the start: to assess the fundamentals—reflexes, instincts, and core swordsmanship.

Now, however, it was time to showcase his true style.

With all three swords sheathed, Santoryu reached for the hilt of one with his left hand and gripped the scabbard with his right. His stance lowered slightly, his muscles coiling with potential energy. A breath passed. Then he vanished in a blur.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared in front of Shinku—his blade drawn mid-motion in a single, elegant stroke aimed directly at the Jōnin's neck.

Clang!

The strike halted abruptly, intercepted cleanly by Shinku's sword, which had been raised with flawless timing. Their blades pressed together for an instant before Santoryu smoothly withdrew and leapt backward, putting distance between them.

Shinku gave a short nod. "Good."

Santoryu didn't respond. He slid the sword in his left hand into its scabbard, this time placing it on the left side of his waist. With a quiet exhale, he lowered himself again—this time adopting a different stance, his legs further apart, both arms poised with hands gripping the hilts of two swords.

This was the Two-Sword Style Draw Technique.

In the next heartbeat, he launched forward.

The twin blades slashed outward in a focused, coordinated strike—precise and powerful. He covered the ground between them in a flash, and this time, when Shinku raised his sword in defense, the impact rang out heavier than before.

Clang!

The force behind Santoryu's twin strike was enough to push Shinku back a full step—just one, but it was enough to make the point.

Shinku's eyes narrowed slightly in acknowledgment. The boy's power wasn't just theoretical—it carried real pressure.

Santoryu stepped back, his breathing steady, and sheathed both of his swords. Then, in a fluid motion, he drew all three once more—one in each hand, and the third clutched firmly between his teeth.

He shifted into his signature stance: Three-Sword Style — Onigiri. His body crouched slightly, swords angled inward, his presence radiating intense focus.

In the next instant, he launched forward, the sheer pressure of his movement kicking up dust across the training ground. With perfect coordination, he unleashed the Onigiri strike—a devastating cross-slash formed by the synergy of all three blades converging in a single, powerful attack.

Shinku raised his sword and met the strike head-on.

Clang!

The impact was heavier than the previous exchanges. This time, Shinku was forced back—not one, but three full steps. His heels dug faint lines in the dirt as he slid, stabilizing himself smoothly despite the surprise.

Santoryu remained poised, lowering his stance once more but refraining from continuing the assault. He knew better. Defeating Shinku was nearly impossible—his superior strength, refined instincts, and elite speed placed him in a different league. Santoryu accepted that fact without frustration. This test wasn't about victory—it was about recognition.

Shinku sheathed his sword with a quiet click and gave Santoryu a firm nod.

"I've tested you thoroughly," he said with an approving tone. "And after what I've seen, I can say with confidence—you're among the best I've seen at the Genin level. Few can match you, even among experienced Chūnin."

His gaze sharpened slightly. "Your perception is sharp. Your reflexes are fast. You understand when to advance and when to retreat. I welcome you to Team Shinku."

Santoryu bowed slightly, his tone respectful. "I'm obliged, Captain."

He sheathed all three of his swords again, his posture straightening.

Shinku turned to the two other Genin, Shiro and Haku, who had been watching silently.

"Now that Santoryu is officially part of our team," Shinku said, "greet him properly as your teammate."

Shiro and Haku exchanged a quick glance before nodding toward Santoryu. "Welcome," Shiro said with minimal expression.

"Glad to have you," Haku added quietly.

Santoryu returned the gesture with a silent nod, appreciating the simple, honest acknowledgement.

Turning his attention back to Santoryu, Shinku continued, "Since this is your first day with the team, we'll keep things light. We're heading out for a low-level D-rank mission. Shiro and Haku will guide you through it."

"Understood," Santoryu replied calmly.

With that, the newly completed team of four began walking together toward the Hokage's office to receive their assignment. The morning sun had risen higher, casting soft light over the village rooftops.

Given that this was Santoryu's first mission as an official Genin, the Hokage himself met them with a brief word and a sealed scroll.

"Team Shinku," he announced, "your mission is to escort a civilian trader to Tanzaku Town. It's a routine D-rank assignment. The destination is just a few miles beyond the village borders."

A simple mission—but for Santoryu, it marked the beginning of his life as a shinobi.

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