The ninja run used to be a cringe worthy move kids would pull out during recess as they threw meaningless hand signs and paper shuriken at each other.

For me it’s a legitimate challenge I am hoping no one picks up on. Guiding chakra from my feet to propel me through distances with quick releases of said chakra is an exhilarating and dangerous exercise in chakra control, one I’ve barely remastered since waking up in Yagura’s body.

His chakra, now mine, is like water and to be honest a little hard to put down in one place. Releasing it in a burst though is easy but a bit difficult to stop once I’ve got started, it’s like sticking a thumb over a pressure hose and trying to fire bullets of water with it.

Still, I managed well enough to leap across Kiri’s cylindrical buildings and avoid falling into the many greeneries and gardens growing at their sides and rooftops. I prided myself in my manoeuvrability as well, reacting to changes in the ever present mist soaking the village as Yagura’s memories fill in the blanks about monuments like the Ninja Academy, hospital and the Mizukage’s tower I was headed towards.

Like majority of buildings in the village, the Mizukage’s tower had a wide cylindrical form that sprouted alongside several other subsidiary structures around it. Yagura considers the arch under it and the tall reaching stairs a part of the monument and so I did too.

Landing on one of them I have a closer look at the Mizukage’s tower, specifically the rooftops I’ve been summoned to. I have to pause and stare because the amount of chakra oozing off the gathered is overwhelming.

While I might be nigh useless at this chakra-ninjutsu lifestyle I’ve begun living, Yagura’s body still belongs to a Kage-level jounin capable of great sensory feats. Sensing the intimidating excess of chakra gathered on the Mizukage’s rooftops is child’s play for what remains of his subconscious, what isn’t is identifying who is part of said gathering.

But I don’t bother trying to decipher who before leaping up to join, none of the chakra signatures read as hostile or unfamiliar and there really wasn’t any need to.

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“Jinchuriki, must we wait for you every time?” Fuguki said as I land in a crouch. As usual he carries Samehada, the Shark Skin Blade at his back and his orange hair flairs slightly with soaked mana— presumably readying a jutsu like the rest of the Kiri shinobi present.

To the left of Fuguki stood Raiga in full ANBU gear and mask, how I knew it was Raiga I’m not entirely sure but the twin Kiba Blades sheathed at his waists all but confirm it. He isn’t exuding that much chakra compared to Fuguki or even Juzo beside him though if he is it’s completely overshadowed by the chakra battery that is Kisame.

The true wielder of Samehada…except he’s so young.

The Seven Swordsmen of the Mist or at least what’s left of them since the Third war has few familiar faces. I only remember the huge brute Fuguki because Kisame killed him to acquire the Samehada. Juzo I recall clearly because at some point in the main timeline, Yagura kills him for deserting the village. Raiga honestly felt like a nobody, even the way his chakra signature is buried underneath the beasts of shinobi around him made his presence rather underwhelming.

“Have some respect, Fuguki. Yagura stands far more accomplished than any of your swordsmen now.” Ao warned, his right eye still bandaged from receiving a byakugan, though I wondered if the bandage does anything to prevent him seeing all.

Probably…it’s not activated is it? Doesn’t seem so.

Beside Ao is none other than Mei Terumi herself and like Kisame she’s strikingly young and garbed in standard Kirigakure gear with two ninja tool packs at her side. Her auburn hair doesn’t flow as long but even at shoulder length it’s spiky as ever, like a prelude to her boiling chakra natures and beautiful—

“Yagura-senpai.” She waved, catching me off guard with the greeting. I waved back and rose to my feet. She had to be about sixteen years old at this point in the timeline and she looked it. Young, inexperienced and lacking the confidence of the Godaime Mizukage she would come to be— or maybe not given I have other plans.

“Good, everyone’s here now.” Harusame marched in with an old, hunched over man with a thin white beard and walking stick.

I recognized the old man instantly as the Funato clan head and descendant of the First Mizukage. He wore a slight smile and squinted at all present as he takes place at the centre.

“Yagura, Mei, Ao, Swordsmen of the Mist.” He began speaking, his voice coarse and aged but held the might of the founding clan behind every word, “I have gathered you all here to follow the will of the third Mizukage.”

“The will of the Third?” I couldn’t help but ask the question on everyone’s mind.

The old man peeled one eye fully open and glanced up at me, “The Third Mizukage’s will for his successor. He has passed.”