Chapitre 319: 315
The smoke thinned slowly, curling back to reveal the battlefield littered with remnants of the clash. Haruto moved with purpose, his fingers tracing over the legendary blades that now lay dormant. These weren't just weapons—they were trophies, symbols of victories forged in silence, sharpened through years spent in the shadows. Each blade was carefully sealed into a scroll, the last marked with a tactile tab so he could recognize it by touch alone, a habit rooted in his need to stay connected, even without sight.
Each sword held a distinct presence, a faint hum of energy still resonating from its former wielder:
• Samehada—its hunger barely restrained, the wrappings twitching with the blade's insatiable appetite, as if sensing traces of chakra still lingering in the air.
• Kubikiribōchō—the Executioner's Blade, dense with dark intent, its weight almost a palpable force.
• Kiba Blades—twin, lightning-charged swords, their edges still crackling with faint static, as if their electric essence refused to fully fade.
• Kabutowari—the Blunt Sword, a brutal combination of hammer and blade, its very structure heavy with a sense of brutal finality.
• Nuibari—the Needle, sleek, thin, and mercilessly precise, its needle-like form almost glinting with silent menace.
• Hidaruma—its edge charred with remnants of flame, a wild spirit contained in the dark scorch marks left behind.
One was missing—the Raijin blade. Raiga Kurosuki had escaped with it, a loose end Haruto planned to resolve soon enough.
With the last sword secured, Haruto turned his gaze toward the forest's edge. Duy stood there, half-concealed by shadows, watching with a blend of disbelief and awe. As Haruto walked over, he could see the mix of emotions in Duy's eyes. When he stopped a few feet away, he reached up and lifted his mask, revealing his face partially hidden by the white bandage wrapped tightly over his eyes, tied behind his head.
Duy's POV
Duy's breath caught, a strange blend of astonishment and relief tightening in his chest. It's… Haruto, he thought, his mind struggling to reconcile the figure before him with the young man he remembered. But this wasn't the same Haruto.
The Haruto he remembered had been smaller, quieter—a presence less commanding, less imposing. Now, this figure was taller, his frame hardened from unyielding discipline and countless battles. His lean physique had always held strength, but now each muscle looked like it had been carved from stone, sharpened by endless hours of relentless training. And there was something else—a faint glow that pulsed along his veins, as though blue lightning crackled just beneath his skin, threading through his muscles like rivers of energy. The glow ebbed and pulsed, subtle yet impossible to ignore, a quiet but constant reminder of the storm he carried within.
Haruto's confidence seemed to radiate outward, filling the air around him. It was the kind of calm that didn't boast; it was unshakeable, a poise that could only come from standing toe-to-toe with death and choosing to return, time and again. His skin was pale, his jawline honed and sharper, a presence heavy with a purpose Duy could barely grasp. But it was the bandage covering his eyes that captured Duy's focus. The sharp, searching eyes that had once defined Haruto's intensity were hidden now, as though sight itself had become irrelevant. And yet, Haruto moved with a heightened awareness, as though he could feel every shift in the world around him without needing vision at all.
Finally, Haruto broke the silence, a flicker of humor slipping into his voice. "Wouldn't be interested in buying a sword, would you?"
Duy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the casual tone amid the destruction surrounding them. Buying… a sword? The absurdity of the question almost made him laugh. Is he… joking?
When he found his voice, it was thick with relief. "I'm so glad the village deployed you here," he said, his tone softened by gratitude and the weight of everything unspoken. "When… how… I'm just glad you were here."
Haruto's POV
Haruto nodded faintly, acknowledging Duy's words without answering directly. The village never deployed me anywhere, he thought, the truth surfacing briefly, a secret he kept to himself.
"You're welcome, Duy," he said simply. "I'd stick around, but I need to reinforce other positions." He paused, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "It was good seeing you."
Here's the passage revised to keep every detail you requested, including the lovers reference:
With a final nod, he turned and melted into the shadows, his steps swift and soundless. Lightning chakra crackled faintly along his nerves and muscles, sending a thrilling jolt of energy through him. Each step propelled him forward with a near-supernatural grace, as if the forest itself bent to his will. The internal enhancement, fueled by his dense chakra, let him move through the thick underbrush like a phantom, each movement efficient and unyielding.
As he ran, a thought surfaced, sharp and persistent.
The intel that led him here hadn't come from the village's regular sources; it had come from Root. He'd infiltrated one of their forward bases, slipping past guards and casting them into genjutsu as he rifled through the records. Reading the text himself was impossible, so he'd taken the next best route: ensnaring a random civilian, bringing him to his mansion, and entrancing him to read aloud every critical detail. The poor man had cried, his voice quivering, but eventually complied under Haruto's cold patience. Afterward, Haruto had given him medicinal herbs to erase the last 48 hours from his memory, leaving a small fortune beside his bed as payment. The headache he'd have upon waking would be unpleasant, but the price was fair for something he'd never remember.
As Haruto pieced the information together, the truth had been as maddening as it was clear. Danzo had known about the Mist Swordsmen's presence. And still, he'd sent only a team of genin as expendable scouts to verify the intel. Rage simmered beneath the surface.
The Hokage's leniency toward Danzo… was it because he was blind, or were they secretly lovers, why did let Danzo do whatever fuck he pleased? Haruto scoffed at the thought, but the question lingered. Hiruzen had allowed Danzo free reign to operate unchecked, to meddle and manipulate without consequence.
Haruto's mind drifted back to Sakumo Hatake. Danzo had played a hand in Sakumo's downfall, manipulating politics to force a true hero into ruin. And Hiruzen had let it happen, just as he let Danzo send children to die on a whim.
Wouldn't it be satisfying to be there when Danzo fell? A grim smile crossed his lips.
Next Haruto thought about the consequences of tonight's actions—bypassing ordered and going out on his own initiative—barely registered in his mind. He didn't care if the village reprimanded him or punished him. He'd failed a comrade once; he wouldn't make the same mistake again. For him, this wasn't about orders or loyalty to a chain of command. It was about loyalty to those he called his own.
Besides, technically, he was already discharged and retired by the village after his eyes were damaged. Medically retired, they'd said.
The rest of the intel had been thin—mostly rumors of enemy movements and whispers of distant battles. Enough, though, to lead him here. And he'd handled it. Now, his next destination was set.
It was time to return to the village, it was time to unretire.
The silence of the forest swallowed his last step, leaving only a trace of the lightning behind as he vanished into the night.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone