Chapter 37: "The Sword Who Thought Too Highly of Himself"
Where Tenten flirts with a sword and it responds with princely disdain.
Negotiations with Saga had hit a wall.
Despite Hinata's gentle voice, Neji's logic, and Kiba's less-than-helpful growling, Saga wouldn't budge. It wasn't that he was rude—he just didn't trust us. And really, could we blame him? We showed up, declared his prized sword a curse, and then Tenten started staring at it like it was a wedding dress on sale.
Saga wasn't dumb. He knew we were after the blade.
And we? We had no Saga-fiancee, no best friend card, no heart-warming flashback to pull. We were just a band of chakra strangers making claims about his life choices.
So, Plan B.
Tenten stepped forward, eyes gleaming.
"Alright, fine," she said, hands on her hips. "Talking to the human didn't work. Time to talk to the blade."
Saga looked confused. "You want to talk to—?"
"Not you," she said, waving him off. "Him." She pointed to the glowing emerald blade. "I know you're in there. I've dealt with cursed weapons before. And I get it—you're choosy. You think you're better than everyone. But guess what?"
She whipped out a scroll.
With one dramatic pop, a series of weapons exploded into view behind her like she was about to host a ninja QVC show. A flaming spear. An icy short sword. A thunder-imbued naginata. And finally, with an extra dramatic flourish, her cursed gauntlet—a sleek black glove covered in etched runes, glowing faintly purple and coiled with metallic strings.
"And this—" she said proudly, slipping on the gauntlet, "—comes with a voice-activated personality. It calls me milady. Has anyone ever called you that?"
The sword's glow pulsed faintly.
Saga narrowed his eyes. "What… are you doing?"
"Introducing myself to royalty," Tenten replied sweetly. "Your sword's acting like an imperial prince, right? All arrogant and picky. That means I have to court it."
Naruto (still hidden in sage mode): She's seducing a sword. She's actually seducing a sword. I'm both impressed and disturbed.
Shikamaru (deadpan): "Troublesome doesn't even begin to cover this."
Tenten moved closer, keeping her voice smooth and reverent. "You're the Shichiseiken, aren't you? The Seven Star Sword. I've heard the legends. Cursed? Sure. Dangerous? Definitely. But powerful? Beyond compare."
The blade gleamed brighter.
"You've had hosts," she continued, "but none of them understood you. They tried to use you as a tool. I wouldn't. I collect. I preserve. I elevate. If you came with me, you'd be among equals—other legendary weapons. And unlike this guy—" she nodded toward Saga, who was visibly annoyed, "—I would actually let you speak your mind."
The tassel at the end of the blade twitched.
Saga: "…He's listening to you."
Tenten smiled. "I know."
Then she put on her gauntlet and activated it. The strings flicked out, slicing through a nearby rock like it was butter. A soft, mechanical voice purred, "All threats eliminated, milady."
"See?" she said, beaming. "Polite. Deadly. Efficient. I think you and I could be best friends. Or maybe something more."
The sword pulsed again—this time a bit brighter.
Then… it spoke.
The Seven Star Sword did not look impressed.
Its green glow flickered with something that could only be described as contempt. A hiss of energy passed through the air like a scoff in weapon-language.
"How dare you," a voice echoed—not from Saga, but from the sword itself.
A deep, regal, sneering voice that sounded like it had lived through several dynasties and decided none of them were good enough.
"I am the Shichiseiken. I was forged by the celestial forge beneath the Emerald Constellation, bathed in the blood of kings, and cursed by the tears of immortals. You, mortal, dare to present me with trinkets? Show and tell?"
Tenten blinked. "…You talk?"
"I do not talk. I proclaim."
The sky rumbled. Saga's eyes went wide—and not in control. The blade pulsed with energy as emerald fire burst from its edges. Cursed runes spread across Saga's skin like wildfire, racing up his neck and down his arms, burning through his uniform. His breathing changed. Slower. Deeper. Not his anymore.
"You would reduce me to a 'collection piece'? A trophy?" the sword thundered through him.
Naruto, from his hidden perch, frowned. "Well, that backfired."
Tenten swallowed. "Okay. Okay. Maybe that came off wrong—"
"Silence, worm," the blade snarled. "You have insulted me. I am not a tool. I am dominion. I am the hand that crowns emperors and the whisper that ends empires. You, and all who stand with you… shall kneel or perish!"
The seven emerald stars along the blade's edge flared.
Saga's aura exploded like a detonation. The runes covering him turned black, flames licking at the corners of his eyes. His silhouette blurred from power overload.
That's not Saga anymore, Neji realized. That's the sword wearing Saga like a sleeve.
"Guys!" Naruto's voice finally rang out, amplified through a sage clone. "Back away from the dojo! That thing's gone full cursed overlord!"
"Wow," Kankuro muttered. "Tenten actually made a sword mad enough to monologue."
"We need to get the blade away from him!" Hinata said urgently.
"I was trying!" Tenten yelled. "He called me a worm!"
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The dojo ground cracked beneath Tenten's feet as she stepped forward, eyes sharp, pride burning in her chest like a forge fire.
How dare that pompous blade look down on her?
She, who had mastered hundreds of weapons. She, who had turned cursed tools into loyal companions. She, who had tamed constructs that made grown shinobi weep.
Tenten rolled up her sleeves.
"Step back," she said, her voice cool but fierce. "Some spoiled brat needs a lesson in manners."
Naruto nodded from the shadows. The others obeyed, forming a loose perimeter around the dojo. They knew that tone. It meant Tenten wasn't going to hold back.
With a smooth motion, she sealed away the rest of her arsenal and slipped on the cursed gauntlets. Black and silver, they locked onto her forearms with a hiss of chakra.
A feminine voice immediately spoke into her ear—crisp, cold, and stern.
"Your form better be flawless, young lady. Or so help me—"
"Shut it, Helda," Tenten muttered.
Two blades formed in her hands—one glowing with frost, the other blazing with fire. Behind her, six lances charged with crackling lightning hovered midair, rotating slowly like predatory hawks.
Saga, or rather the cursed being wearing him, raised the Seven Star Sword with one hand. Emerald flames danced along its edge. Runes burned across his skin, feeding power into his frame. His posture was perfect—no wasted motion, no tension. A master swordsman through and through.
The air between them turned heavy, thick with tension and killing intent.
Then they moved.
The ground exploded.
Saga dashed forward, emerald flames trailing behind him. Tenten met him head-on, her twin blades clashing against the glowing jade steel of the Shichiseiken. The impact rang like a gong, shaking the air and sending shockwaves across the dojo.
Saga pivoted and slashed. Tenten ducked, spun, and retaliated with a flaming arc. He parried, twisting his wrist to redirect the momentum, but she launched an ice slash from below that nearly froze his side. He somersaulted back—and Tenten snapped her fingers.
The six lances shot forward like lightning bolts.
Saga growled and raised a barrier of emerald fire. The first two lances shattered against it—but the next four circled around midair and came at him from all sides.
He let the cursed sword guide his movements, dancing between the strikes, deflecting with razor precision. His blade burst with green fire, releasing a wave of cursed energy that incinerated the last lance.
Tenten charged again. Her gauntlets extended metallic threads, slicing through the air like whips. Saga blocked one—but the others curved behind him. He turned just in time to deflect, but she was already in his face, landing a blow with her flaming blade that scorched his side.
He stumbled back, but the sword healed the wound instantly.
Saga smirked. "You're strong."
Tenten smirked right back. "You're wearing a sword like a parasite and calling me weak?"
Saga answered with silence—and another wave of pressure.
The negative aura deepened. Tenten felt it then—like invisible hands clutching at her thoughts. Whispering doubts. Feeding on her insecurities.
You'll never surpass the others.
You're just a weapon collector, not a true warrior.
You belong in the shadows of legends.
Her grip tightened.
But Tenten's will was iron.
She forced the darkness back with her own Yin chakra, countering the pressure with raw mental strength. Her lightning lances reformed, and she sent them forward again—this time in unpredictable, chaotic patterns.
Saga met them with a burst of speed, dodging and deflecting while returning fire with waves of emerald shockwaves. The dojo crumbled around them. Fire and ice carved into the earth. Lightning split the sky.
They were equal.
Blade for blade. Blow for blow.
Each movement countered. Each strike answered. It was a dance between masters—neither willing to fall.
Tenten's eyes narrowed. Her gauntlet surged with chakra, and the metallic threads struck deep, binding Saga's right arm just for a split second—long enough.
She struck.
Both elemental blades slashed across Saga's chest, sending him flying back through a wall. Smoke and dust rose.
But he stood up.
The Seven Star Sword glowed brighter than ever, rage pulsing through its emerald light.
"I am not done," Saga growled.
Tenten stood firm, breathing hard, her weapons raised.
"Good," she said. "I'm just getting started."
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Tenten narrowed her eyes.
They were too evenly matched.
Saga's cursed powers kept him regenerating. The Seven Star Sword was a parasite—but a powerful one. His flames were growing hotter, faster. The emerald light now swirled with serpentine movements, lashing out with every strike. If she didn't turn the tide soon, this would become a war of attrition—and she wasn't interested in losing.
Time to go all in.
She whistled.
Two large chakra cannons floated out from her scrolls, humming with concentrated chakra and clicking into place beside her lightning lances. A soft blue glow ran along their barrels. Behind them, two rotating shield generators activated, forming translucent hexagonal barriers that floated near her shoulders—ready to intercept anything Saga could throw.
Saga paused, emerald fire flickering more wildly now, his blade humming with anticipation.
"...More weapons?" he muttered, tone now clipped with irritation—and perhaps unease. "You treat combat like some toy workshop."
Tenten smirked. "No, I just don't handicap myself for arrogant antiques."
Saga growled.
That did it.
With a furious roar, he surged forward again, sword blazing brighter than ever. Flames erupted around him like a cloak, crackling with emerald fury. As he moved, shockwaves exploded from his swings—blades of invisible pressure ripping across the field, shredding stone and earth alike.
Tenten dodged the first and blocked the second with a shield. The hex-barrier cracked under the strain, but held. She returned fire.
BOOM!
One chakra cannon released a burst—pure condensed chakra shaped into a spinning disk of force. Saga dodged, barely, and flames danced over his shoulder.
The second cannon fired a moment later—but this time, it wasn't aimed at him.
It was aimed above.
The blast exploded in the air—sending a shockwave that knocked Saga off balance just long enough for Tenten to strike.
The six lightning lances darted in again, their angles chaotic and fast. Saga gritted his teeth and swung his blade in a flaming arc, cleaving two of them midair—but four still reached.
Two slammed into his legs. Another hit his side. The last one pierced near his collarbone, cracking the emerald runes.
Tenten lunged in, ice and fire blades swirling like twin comets.
Saga blocked just in time—but she followed with a flurry of metallic threads from her gauntlets, forcing him back.
She wasn't done.
With a spinning leap, she fired her chakra cannon point-blank into the ground between them.
BOOOOM!!
The shockwave blew them both apart. Saga crashed into a wall, skidding into the dojo's inner chamber, while Tenten flipped midair, her shields protecting her from the worst of the backlash.
Dust and flame swallowed the field.
For a moment, silence.
Then…
Saga emerged from the smoke, burned but still regenerating. His breathing was labored. Parts of his clothing had been scorched away, and even the sword's glow had flickered once.
He looked at her—less disdainful now. More calculating.
"You're not like the others," he said at last. "You fight like you have something to prove."
Tenten's eyes gleamed.
"I don't need to prove anything. I am the proof."
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Okay, so first off—I was NOT jealous of the sword.
Let's just get that straight.
Yeah, it was glowing all emerald and fancy and acted like a royal jerk, but still. Not jealous. Totally calm. Totally rational. Just hiding in Sage Mode behind a rock and letting my friends handle it. That's called delegation, people.
Anyway—where were we? Oh yeah. The cursed sword duel of the century.
Tenten had gone full anime protagonist with floating lances, chakra cannons, and enough dramatic one-liners to fill a season. Saga—the poor dude who'd basically been possessed by a sword that thinks it's a divine emperor—was now huffing, sweating, and looking like he regretted a few life choices. You know, like touching the glowy cursed relic in the first place.
That's when Shikamaru, our local genius-slash-walking sigh machine, finally decided it was time to be useful.
"Shadow Possession Jutsu," he muttered like he was ordering ramen.
Boom. Saga froze mid-charge like someone had hit the pause button on his spine.
I swear I heard the sword scream. Not like a "oh no, I'm in pain" scream. More like a "HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT MY DRAMATIC FINAL ACT" scream. If swords had eyebrows, his would've been twitching.
Then Hinata stepped in—gentle as always, but with enough precision to make a porcupine flinch.
She poked Saga just right, sealing his chakra points like snap snap snap—and then, cool as a snowflake, plucked the Seven Star Sword out of his hands like she was taking out the trash. She tossed it in a neat arc across the air toward Shikamaru.
Let me just pause to say:
Never in my life have I seen a sword look so insulted.
I mean, it didn't have a face or anything, but the sheer amount of offended vibes it was radiating? Off. The. Charts. It was like:
"EXCUSE me?! I am an ancient celestial weapon of doom! Not a frisbee!"
Shikamaru caught it one-handed, grunting. "What a drag. This thing's heavier than my motivation."
Tenten stomped over, rolling up her sleeves, sweaty and still kinda sparky from the last round of cannon-blasting. "Okay, now that we've all gotten that out of our system..."
The sword hissed. Like, actually hissed. I think. Or maybe that was just chakra vapor. Hard to say. Either way, it was not pleased.
"I was not defeated," the sword snarled, telepathically of course—because apparently ancient weapons don't do normal conversations. "I was… inconvenienced. This host was weak. I demand a rematch."
Tenten crossed her arms. "Wow. You sound like a sore loser."
"I am no loser! I am the Shichiseiken! The blade of legends! You fools toy with power you cannot comprehend!"
"Uh-huh." Tenten leaned in, totally unbothered. "Look, emerald boy. You've been stuck in this backwater dojo with a guy who thought fishnet shirts were intimidating. You've got power, sure—but you're being used by weaklings. Stay with me, and you'll go places."
The sword didn't answer right away.
Which was already a win.
Tenten took that as her cue and kept going, her voice surprisingly soft. "There are relics out there stronger than you. Artifacts that grant wishes. Ones that can seal whole dimensions, or erase names from reality. You want to evolve? To grow? Let me help you."
She stepped closer, almost reverent now. "I'll study you. Understand you. Not destroy you like the others would. I can upgrade you. Make you stronger. Smarter. Legendary again."
The sword… hesitated. Its glow dimmed slightly.
For a second, I thought she'd won. But nope. Cue the drama.
"Then give me a real duel," it said, voice sharp as its edge. "I will enter a new vessel. Let me see if you are worthy."
I popped my head out from the rock. "Uh, hey, is now a bad time to mention that putting a murder-sword in someone new is a really bad idea?"
Tenten sighed. "He wants to take over Shikamaru now."
Shikamaru looked up. "Ugh. Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Fine. But if I turn into a cursed tyrant or whatever, I'm blaming all of you."
And so… the world's laziest possessed guy held up the sword.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered.
The blade pulsed in his hands—and the air shook.
Sparks of cursed emerald fire surrounded him, symbols lighting up his arms, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the sword was holding its breath.
Then—
Shikamaru yawned.
"I don't feel any different."
"…This host has no ambition," the sword complained. "It's like living inside a cloud."
"Good," Shikamaru said. "Now shut up while I nap."