"You want to take me as your master?"
Isshin crossed his arms, looking down at the boy kneeling on the ground with a look of great interest. His face still wore that seemingly carefree, hearty smile.
After following Association President Yagyu Souichirou back to the city, Isshin had brazenly ignored the older man's increasingly dark face and shamelessly freeloaded a massive lunch at the Seishin Meichi Style dojo. Only then did he happily wander back to his own rented courtyard.
To his surprise, someone had already been waiting for him at his doorstep for quite some time.
It was the same guy who had been hiding on the snowy hill outside the city, spying on his spar with the President.
The kid was certainly direct. The moment they locked eyes, he dropped to his knees with a heavy thud and immediately begged to be accepted as a disciple.
"Yes! Please, Master Isshin, take me as your disciple! Teach me your martial arts!" Motoya Yamagami kowtowed again, his voice echoing off the freezing stone slabs.
"Tsk, tsk." Isshin shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You know, kid... your eyes are like hooks, stuffed full of baggage. Your face practically has 'deep hatred and bitter resentment' stamped right across it. One look and anyone can tell you're carrying a sea of bad blood, probably mixed in with a tragic 'family ruined, loved ones dead' backstory. Sigh... this kind of disciple is the most troublesome. It's exhausting to teach them, and there's always a mountain of drama that follows."
His words were so blunt they bordered on cruel. Like a freezing dagger, they directly sliced through the calm facade Motoya had been desperately trying to maintain.
Motoya's body trembled. He lowered his head further, his lips pressing together until they turned white. The fire of hope that had just ignited in his chest felt as if it had been doused with a bucket of ice water.
However, just as he thought he was going to be flatly rejected, Isshin's voice rang out again:
"Let me ask you. Do you want to learn the sword for revenge?"
Motoya snapped his head up, meeting Isshin's still-relaxed gaze. With a frank, almost reckless determination, he answered:
"I won't lie to you, Master. I want to learn the sword for revenge! A sea of blood, an irreconcilable hatred!"
He paused for a second, took a deep breath, and continued:
"But it's not just for revenge! It's also to ensure that the tragedy that happened to me doesn't easily happen to anyone else! I don't want to see more people reduced to my state—family destroyed, loved ones gone, with nowhere to turn for help!"
Isshin didn't say anything. He just watched him quietly. Motoya stared back without backing down, even though his heart was pounding like a drum and his back was soaked in cold sweat.
"Tell me your story first."
Hearing this, Motoya didn't dare delay. He quickly organized his thoughts and began speaking in the clearest voice possible: "Master, my name is Motoya Yamagami. I was born in the Land of Hot Water..."
He started from his family's hot spring inn, moving on to the shadow of the war, his father's passing, his mother's downward spiral, the brainwashing of the Church of the Holy God, the loss of their wealth, his older brother's tragedy, and finally... his younger sister ascending to the "next world."
Huh?
Why does this story sound so familiar?
As Isshin listened, a sense of déjà vu washed over him, as if he had heard this exact backstory in his previous life. But he didn't dig too deeply into it, simply chalking it up to the fact that all tragedies in the world are roughly the same.
"And so, I came to the Land of Iron." Motoya finished his narrative and lowered his head again, waiting for judgment.
"Alright." Isshin finally spoke, his tone as casual as deciding what to eat for dinner. "You can follow me and learn for now. But let me be ugly upfront: I can teach you, but how much you actually learn—and whether you can swallow the bitterness of the training—is entirely up to you. The day you feel like you can't take it anymore, or the day I decide you don't have what it takes, you're out. Understood?"
This was actually perfect timing. After his advancement to the [Chunin] and [Sword Master] classes, the description for the Sword Master trait explicitly stated: When instructing others in swordsman-related talents, their training efficiency receives a minor boost.
His main body was currently busy in Konoha, developing Fire Release Nintaijutsu and preparing for the impending Great Ninja War, leaving no time to test this effect.
Since his Isshin clone had some free time, taking on a disciple to test the waters and see just how effective this "minor boost" really was seemed like a great idea.
Who knows, maybe it'll even generate some teaching-related traits?
While education-type traits wouldn't directly boost his own combat power, they would allow him to train disciples with twice the results for half the effort.
Given enough time, he could naturally gather a group of genuine experts under his command, forming solid wings and a strong foundation for himself.
Furthermore, he understood that reputation could be vastly amplified through disciples. When a disciple became famous for exquisite swordplay, the world would naturally believe their master's swordsmanship was even greater. When a disciple intimidated a region with overwhelming strength, people would assume the master who taught them was a total monster.
Every accomplishment of his disciples, every gasp of awe and word of praise they earned, would flow like rivers into the sea, forming an even more massive torrent of public perception that would elevate him to unimaginable heights.
Just like Confucius in his previous life—the man's wisdom was indeed profound and vast, but his supreme status was cemented by generation after generation of his disciples.
"Greetings, Teacher!" Overjoyed, Motoya hurriedly kowtowed.
"Alright, alright. Stand up when you talk to me."
"Thank you, Teacher!" Motoya stood up as instructed, unable to suppress the excitement and gratitude on his face.
Suddenly remembering something, he hurriedly turned around and began rummaging through his battered travel pack. Flustered, he tried to dig out some money or anything remotely valuable he could offer as an apprenticeship gift.
"Alright, stop digging." Isshin glanced at his awkward, desperate searching and spoke dismissively. He was about to say, I don't need your pocket change.
But just then, his eyes swept over a crude but impeccably polished metal barrel peeking out from the folds of the pack.
He paused, his eyes lighting up slightly.
"Wait!" He changed his tune, pointing at the gun barrel. "Take that gun out and let me see it."
As Isshin, a great Sword Saint, how could I not have a gun?!
A gun!
It was also an extension of the way of the sword! It was one of the "tools" absolutely worth mastering!
A gun?
Motoya was stunned for a moment before realizing his teacher was referring to his flintlock pistol.
He quickly stopped rummaging. With both hands, he carefully lifted out the pistol. Though its design was slightly rough, every single component had been wiped spotless. He offered it up respectfully, explaining with a bit of nervousness:
"Teacher, this is... this is something I tinkered with, collected parts for, and modified myself during my free time while on guard duty. It's just a cheap trick that can't be presented in polite company. From now on, I will definitely focus entirely on my training and the way of the sword. I won't let myself be distracted by these things anymore..."
"A cheap trick?" Isshin took the flintlock. It felt heavy and solid in his hand. He examined it with great interest, checking the barrel and the firing mechanism. Hearing Motoya's words, he shook his head and interrupted him: "Motoya, this is absolutely not something that can't be presented in polite company."
He looked up at the confused and anxious Motoya, speaking with absolute seriousness: "The Ashina Style values continuously absorbing the strengths of a hundred schools and gathering the techniques of a thousand. Although our name implies the sword, our path is absolutely not bound to the sword as our only weapon."
He tossed the flintlock lightly in his hand, as if pondering how best to use it. "As long as it can secure victory in battle, effectively strike down your opponent, and protect what you want to protect... then whether it's a longsword, a short knife, a spear, a bow, or this fire-and-metal-spitting gun in your hands... even explosive tags and cannons... they can be, and should be, weapons for us to use."
"Remember this, Motoya. The absolute rule of our Ashina Style can be summed up in four words: Adapt to the situation!"
"And our core philosophy is also four words: As long as it works! And our ultimate goal is..."
...