"Sensei!" he shouted from the back. "Check this one out! It's got a dragon on the hilt! This is destiny!"
Iruka chuckled lightly. "You're not a dragon summoner, Naruto."
Naruto stood at the back of the shop, eyes wide with wonder, arms wrapped around four swords he had somehow gathered like a feral magpie. Three of them were glitzy, all polish and flair—but the fourth was different.
A crimson katana.
Its red sheath was worn, but beautifully preserved. The hilt was wrapped in black, and the guard curled outward like a whirlpool. Etched into the base was a swirl—bold, proud.
The Uzumaki clan symbol.
Naruto's fingers traced it slowly.
"…This swirl… It's just like mine," he murmured.
His reflection in the polished sheath stared back—half-shadowed, but smiling.
Iruka's eyes locked onto the blade. Something in him froze. His breath caught.
He stepped forward—but before he could speak, Tenten rounded the counter and noticed the sword in Naruto's arms.
Her face changed instantly.
Her expression tightened.
"That's not for sale," she said sharply.
Naruto blinked. "Huh? But it's got my clan's symbol on it!"
Tenten folded her arms. "That sword's not for beginners. It's one of the best we have—real battle-forged steel. Lightweight. Balanced. Razor-sharp. It's a legacy weapon."
"Then even more reason I should have it!" Naruto argued, clutching it tighter.
"I said no." Her tone dropped to a cool, final edge. "It's not about money. That sword belonged to someone important—a kunoichi from before the Nine-Tails attack. She left it here, and no one came back for it. That makes it part of our shop's legacy now."
Naruto's brows furrowed. "But it's my clan's! I'm an Uzumaki!"
Iruka's eyes sharpened. He stepped forward.
"What did you just say?" he asked, voice low.
Tenten shrugged. "It's our shop. Our choice what we sell."
Iruka's voice dropped further—calm, but dangerous. "That sword… how did you get it?"
The shop fell silent.
And then—something changed.
There was no flash of chakra. No shout. But something snapped in the air. It pressed down, not with weight, but with will. A presence. A force.
Tenten's eyes widened.
Her knees buckled.
She tried to hold herself up, but her legs collapsed—forcing her to kneel, arms trembling. It wasn't pain. It was pressure. Crippling, invisible pressure. Like she was being made to bow before something greater than her understanding.
Her breath hitched. She stared at Iruka in disbelief.
This wasn't the gentle, calm Academy instructor she knew. This wasn't the Iruka-sensei who brought bento lunches and gave second chances.
This was something else entirely.
The usual Iruka… was no more.
He didn't glow. He didn't move. He didn't even raise his voice.
But the way he stood—the way the air wrapped around him like armor—Tenten felt it in her bones.
Conqueror's Haki.
She didn't have the words for it, but she knew one thing for certain: the man before her could command armies without saying a word.
Blades along the walls rattled in their racks. Scrolls fluttered. The wooden floor creaked underfoot—not from movement, but from sheer spiritual force.
Behind the counter, a forge-stained man stepped out, wiping his hands with a cloth. "What's going on out here—?"
Kenshi Higurashi froze mid-step.
His gaze fell on Iruka—and something in his expression changed.
That wasn't a Chunin.
That wasn't a teacher.
That was a king.
He felt it instantly. The pressure didn't come from killing intent or raw chakra. It came from presence alone. A man who needed neither weapon nor armor to make the world kneel.
Kenshi looked past Iruka to Naruto, still cradling the katana protectively.
The whiskers. The wild blue eyes. The stubborn fire.
He saw her.
Kushina.
Kenshi's voice came low, reverent. "That sword… it was brought in just before the Nine-Tails attack. Its owner left it for polishing. She never returned."
He walked forward, slowly, like approaching sacred ground.
"We never sold it. Not because of money. Because no one ever had the right."
Naruto looked up at him, eyes wide and searching.
Kenshi's gaze softened. "But now I see. It was never ours. It's always been yours."
Tenten turned, stunned. "Dad—!"
Kenshi's voice was firmer than she'd ever heard it. "It was never yours. That blade belongs to the Uzumaki. To him."
Naruto's arms wrapped tightly around the sword. His lower lip trembled. Tears welled in his eyes.
"My clan…" he whispered.
He held the crimson sheath close, forehead resting on the lacquered wood.
Kenshi turned back to Iruka. The pressure had faded now, but the memory of it lingered. Like standing at the throne room of a forgotten emperor.
"We kept it safe," Kenshi said quietly. "But the sword was waiting. And now, it's home."
Iruka gave a single nod. The fire in his gaze settled, but his authority remained.
A silent promise to any who'd question the boy's right.
Tenten remained kneeling, still catching her breath. Her pride wounded, her posture bent—not from weakness, but from the unshakable truth her body had recognized before her mind could catch up.
She didn't understand what she'd just felt.
But she knew one thing:
She had bowed… because her will had no choice.
Tenten stared, still overwhelmed. "W-what was that… just now?"
Iruka turned to her, calm once more. "Power."
She blinked. "What kind of jutsu was that?"
Iruka looked over his shoulder. "Not a jutsu."
He paused at the door.
"My will."
Then he left.
---