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Hashirama was stunned on the spot.
As he gazed at the gleaming samurai swords in the warriors' hands, he was suddenly reminded of another kind of power in this world.
Samurai!
The backbone of each nation's military strength.
In the world of shinobi, besides the ninja, there also exists the presence of samurai.
These samurai, clad in heavy armor, protect themselves within it, wielding sharp katanas, and they are all quite formidable.
While their strength doesn't compare to that of the later-stage shinobi, they still stand a good chance against lower to mid-level ninja.
In the anime, the Land of Iron possesses a very strong samurai army, which is also the reason why the daimyo of the Land of Iron could preside over the Five Kage Summit.
Hashirama looked at the samurai in front of him, and thought to himself, if he were an ordinary person, he wouldn't be a match for these warriors.
Suddenly, many people gathered around.
They looked toward the daimyo's residence, each of them noticing the man clad in red-orange armor, and began pointing at Hashirama.
"Why is this guy dressed so strangely?"
"He definitely doesn't look like a good person!"
"From what the samurai are saying, it sounds like this guy is trying to barge into the daimyo's residence!"
"Wait a minute, why does this guy seem familiar? I feel like I've seen him somewhere before."
"Don't overthink it. If you'd seen someone in an outfit like that, you'd definitely remember. If you can't recall, it's probably because you've never seen him!"
"..."
The crowd's murmurings filled the air, with all eyes focused on Hashirama, their gazes full of curiosity.
Hashirama ignored the people around him.
His eyes remained fixed on the samurai before him, contemplating what he should say.
After all, these men were just doing their job according to the rules; there was no need to make things difficult for them.
However.
Just then.
A young man casually walked past Hashirama, glancing at him with the same look one might give a beggar on the street.
"My God, what is this thing? Dressed like that, showing up at the daimyo's gate—hurry up and get rid of him!"
The young man nonchalantly waved at the samurai at the gate before proceeding toward the daimyo's residence.
"Heh heh heh..."
The samurai all let out strange laughs, though their expressions were hidden behind their helmets.
"Why can he go in?"
Hashirama pointed directly at the young man who had reached the daimyo's gate, then added, "He seems pretty idle to me. Isn't there a rule that idle people can't enter?"
"..."
The entire scene fell silent.
So that's what 'idle people' means!
The onlookers grew even more excited, thinking they were about to witness an intriguing spectacle. This show was getting more and more interesting.
In that instant.
Everyone held their breath.
Anticipating what was about to happen next.
Suddenly.
The young man, who had just reached the gate, abruptly stopped, turned his head to look at Hashirama, a cruel smile forming at the corner of his mouth, his entire demeanor exuding coldness.
"Who do you think you are?"
"How dare you compare yourself to me?"
"Are you tired of living?"
"Samurai!"
"Someone like you standing at the gate is tarnishing the reputation of the daimyo's residence!"
"Get rid of him, now!"
With that, the young man walked straight into the daimyo's residence, disappearing from everyone's view.
"You heard him. We suggest you leave on your own. If we have to make you, it won't be pleasant!"
One of the samurai waved his sharp katana menacingly, clearly indicating that if Hashirama didn't leave, that blade would come down on him.
"You people are quite interesting. I could have chosen not to reason with you, but I tried, and you all refused to listen!"
Hashirama stared at the samurai brandishing their katanas.
From beginning to end, they hadn't even bothered to ask his name.
Or his intentions.
They didn't even think to announce his arrival.
Just because he was wearing Sengoku-era armor, they immediately tried to drive him away?
So, this is the daimyo's residence in the Land of Fire?!
Hashirama didn't have much of an impression of the daimyo in the shinobi world. From what he remembered in the anime, the Land of Fire's daimyo only appeared briefly in flashbacks, deciding who would be the next Hokage.
"But now," Hashirama said, grinning as his tone shifted, his gaze locking onto the eight samurai in front of him.
"Since you were kind enough to give me a chance earlier, I'll return the favor. You have one chance to leave—right now. If I have to make you leave, it won't be pleasant!"
Hashirama practically threw the samurai's words back at them, his arms crossed over his chest in a classic show of confidence.
Unfortunately for them, they were far too weak.
If this were a mission, it probably wouldn't even rank as C-level.
At best, it was worth a single shuriken.
So, let's begin with the daimyo's residence in the Land of Fire!
"Hahahahaha..."
In an instant, the samurai burst into laughter.
Each one clutched their stomachs as if they had just heard the funniest joke ever, some even struggling to keep hold of their swords.
After a moment, they stopped laughing.
Then, every one of them unsheathed their katanas, the blades gleaming as they pointed directly at Hashirama.
"Looks like you've got a death wish!"
The samurai's voice turned cold, the earlier mirth replaced by a dense aura of killing intent. They were now fully intent on ending Hashirama's life.
These samurai, stationed at the entrance of the daimyo's residence, were no weaklings.
"Kill without mercy!"
One of the samurai shouted, immediately swinging his katana toward Hashirama. The other seven didn't even flinch.
No one believed that more than one elite samurai was needed to deal with a man dressed so oddly.
One was enough!
Swish!
The katana sliced through the air with a cold gleam, aiming straight for Hashirama's forehead, the force behind it clear—it was meant to kill him outright.
The blade flashed, sharp and deadly.
Some of the onlookers had already closed their eyes, their minds filling in the gruesome scene of Hashirama being struck down, especially those with children, who had begun shielding their eyes and holding them close.
The people in the front row of the crowd took several steps back.
No one wanted to be splattered with blood while watching the spectacle.
The seven samurai who hadn't moved stared at Hashirama with mocking and contemptuous eyes, as if they were about to swat a fly.
However.
Just as the katana was about to strike Hashirama's forehead.
Hashirama moved with lightning speed, his right hand darting out, and with two fingers—his index and middle—he effortlessly caught the descending blade.
There was no sound.
The samurai felt an immense force stop the katana in its tracks, the blade halted just shy of Hashirama's hand.
But that small distance had become an insurmountable gap.
No matter how hard the samurai tried, he couldn't push the blade any further.
"A broken sword like this could kill me?"
Hashirama's calm voice echoed through the air, reaching everyone's ears. Those who had closed their eyes now opened them in shock.
(End of Chapter)