"Dirty?"
Isshin stood right where he was, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his katana, face completely calm—almost bored—while the entire crowd of Konoha spectators hurled insults at him.
He heard Shizune's angry outburst and turned his gaze toward the furious girl. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile that could've been amusement or pure mockery.
"Little lady," his voice wasn't loud, but it sliced straight through the noise and hit everyone's ears crystal clear. "On a real battlefield, between life and death, do your enemies care about rules or whether your methods look pretty? You win—you live. You lose—you die. That's it. End of story."
"When I put in that mission request with Konoha, I wrote it in plain black and white—no restrictions. I told you straight up: use anything you've got! Genjutsu, ninjutsu, taijutsu, secret techniques, sealing jutsu, explosive tags, poison, kekkei genkai—bring it all! I don't care!"
"Because the Ashina Style is a sword path built on winning by any means necessary! As long as it drops the enemy, a katana, a fist, a gun, a trap, poison—anything in the world can be a sword! Getting hung up on 'proper form' and empty honor is just a shackle weak people put on themselves!"
"Bastard! Since when does shooting a gun count as swordsmanship?!"
"Twisted logic! Total bullshit!"
"Yeah! If you're so tough, don't pull that dirty crap!"
"A swordsman ditching the sword for a gun? Have some shame!"
"Get the hell out of Konoha! We don't want trash like you here!"
"You XXXXX!"
The curses kept pouring in, especially from the hot-headed younger ninjas. Most of the older shinobi stayed quiet, faces tight and serious.
The scene was spiraling. The coordinating chunin was sweating bullets, yelling "Everyone, calm down!" over and over, but nobody was listening.
Man, these Konoha hotheads… I never knew they could curse this filthy.
Isshin stood in the middle of the storm like he was in the eye of a hurricane, completely ignoring the raging insults. Inside he just thought, Once I'm Hokage, I'm definitely teaching these guys some damn manners.
Back in the Hokage's office, the Third Hokage had finally pulled himself together.
He realized he'd made a mistake—one based on ordinary common sense and experience.
This client, Isshin, wasn't some ordinary challenger Konoha needed to babysit for the sake of face. He was a real tiger. His raw physical power and combat ability had already reached a frightening level.
Even worse was his completely unpredictable style—cunning, vicious, and willing to do absolutely anything to win. More ruthless than a lot of veteran ninjas.
When the hell did the Land of Iron produce a monster like this?
He was about to speak when a knock sounded. "Come in."
An intel division staffer hurried inside, face twisted in obvious disbelief. "Lord Hokage! Fresh report from the scene! The client Isshin… he says he's bored. The opponents aren't strong enough and the stage is too small. He's packing up right now and looks ready to leave! And… and he announced in front of everyone that he's heading straight to Sunagakure in the Land of Wind to check them out instead."
The Third's eyes sharpened instantly.
Leave?
No way in hell.
Forget the unpaid bonus that could hit two million ryo—that was still decent money for Konoha right now.
More importantly, letting a samurai who just beat two of their ninjas walk away thinking "Konoha's nothing special" and then head to Sunagakure (whose relationship with the Leaf was already shaky and possibly turning hostile) was completely unacceptable—face, substance, and strategic fallout.
They had to keep him here!
They had to beat him fair and square before he left Konoha, or at least show that Konoha had the real power to crush him.
Hmm… actually, with war tensions this high, a little public excitement might be useful.
His mind clicked through the options in a heartbeat. He stood up sharply, voice like iron. "Contact Mr. Isshin right now and deliver my message!"
His eyes burned as he spoke each word clearly: "This was Konoha's mistake. We underestimated Mr. Isshin's strength and ruined his fun. Please convey my personal apology."
"Ask Mr. Isshin to stay in Konoha for one more day!"
"Tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock, the next match will be moved to Konoha's largest official arena! The stage will be more than big enough to hold every villager and shinobi who wants to watch!"
"And I, the Third Hokage, personally guarantee we will provide an opponent who will truly satisfy him and give him the fight of his life!"
With that, he waved his hand. "Do whatever it takes to keep him here! Go!"
"Yes, Lord Hokage!" The two staff members straightened up and sprinted out.
The Third sat back down, picked up his pipe but didn't light it. His gaze turned deep as he stared out the window.
Looks like we need to get serious. Who do we send to tame this wild dragon from the Land of Iron?
Terrifying physical strength, ferocious close-combat style, and that win-at-any-cost battlefield mindset…
Too bad Minato's out on a mission… otherwise…
The Third's first thought was Namikaze Minato, but the Yellow Flash wouldn't be back for at least ten days.
He quickly ran through every jonin thirty and under in his head and finally settled on one name.
Yūhi Makoto.
Not only was this veteran genjutsu specialist experienced, he was also calm, steady, and battle-hardened.
"Send Makoto. He just turned thirty this year, so he fits the age limit."
Decision made, the Third picked up his brush and started writing the official orders for the Mission Desk and Yūhi Makoto.
Konoha's streets and alleys didn't quiet down when the sun went down.
If anything, the topic of the "dishonorable samurai from the Land of Iron" exploded even hotter.
"Did you hear? That guy pulled a gun! Total scumbag move!"
"A gun? Can that thing even hurt a ninja?"
"That's the dirty part! His gun's obviously not normal!"
"Even Jonin Kawano lost… damn…"
"The Land of Iron brags about bushido—how'd they spit out a freak like this?"
"Guy's just a bandit in samurai clothes. Zero honor!"
"But… what he said kinda made sense. On a real battlefield, who plays by the rules?"
"Bullshit! That's twisted logic! Ninjas can use anything—that's fair game. But a samurai using a gun? Straight-up cheating!"
Taverns, restaurants, street corners—everywhere you went, the same angry conversations echoed. Fury, disgust, and frustration were everywhere.
Right in the middle of it all, brand-new news spread like wildfire: "Latest update! That Isshin guy hasn't left yet!"
"Lord Hokage himself stepped in! Tomorrow at two p.m. in the village's main arena—another match!"
"The main arena? That huge official stadium that seats a hundred thousand? They only use it for Chunin Exam finals!"
"Looks like the village is finally getting serious. They're definitely sending someone strong enough to crush him!"
"Sweet! I'm going tomorrow for sure!"
"Yeah! Let's watch that arrogant prick lose!"
"I wanna see what dirty trick he tries next!"
The crowd's mood flipped from pure rage to hungry anticipation.
They were convinced: once the village got serious and brought out their real heavy hitters, that dishonorable samurai was going down hard.