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The List of My "Wandering Reader":
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The earth dragon crashed into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust that nearly blotted out half the sky.
The spectators waited anxiously for the final outcome, their nerves on edge. Even Terumi Mei felt her heart pounding rapidly.
During the mission in the "Land of Snow," Midorima had mostly operated alongside Zabuza, so she wasn't entirely sure just how strong Midorima had become.
"Did he win?" Zabuza also walked over to Terumi Mei, his eyes fixed on the dust-covered arena.
Terumi Mei shook her head. "He should be fine, right?"
Zabuza didn't respond, his gaze shifting toward the entrance of the competitor's tunnel. Two medical ninjas holding a stretcher were also watching the scene nervously.
The outcome of this match also affected the interests of the medical ninjas.
After about half a minute, the dust finally began to settle, allowing the audience to see what lay hidden behind it—Akamatsu was trapped inside a water sphere, his face contorted in agony, his hands clawing at his throat. Meanwhile, Midorima had one hand plunged into the sphere, maintaining the jutsu.
"Water Prison Technique. Looks like the result is decided," Zabuza remarked coolly.
Terumi Mei also let out a long exhale of relief.
Since Akamatsu was trapped in the "Water Prison Technique," his defeat was all but certain.
The referee quickly stepped onto the platform. Seeing Akamatsu inside the water prison, his eyes rolled back and on the verge of death, he raised his hand.
"The winner of this match—Asachi Midorima!"
The crowd erupted in uproar.
"Wait, what just happened? 'The Mantis' was the one constantly attacking, holding the advantage. How did he get taken down so fast? That's just pathetic!"
"Fixed match, huh?"
"Seriously, he had the upper hand the whole time, then suddenly loses? This is such bad acting."
Terumi Mei angrily turned her head, glaring at those mocking the match. "If you think it's fixed, why don't you get in there and fight yourselves?"
"You little brat—" One of the men shouting at the arena, hearing a little girl talk back, was about to curse at Terumi Mei when someone yanked his arm.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Those two fought today. Either one could slaughter you ten times over without breaking a sweat."
The man immediately shut his mouth, swallowing his words.
Terumi Mei then turned her attention back to the arena. Akamatsu, having coughed up the water, lay on the ground, gasping for air.
"I… I… I didn't lose… I can still fight…"
Two medical ninjas rushed in with a stretcher, giving Midorima a quick wink before wordlessly loading Akamatsu onto it.
"Water in the lungs. Needs immediate treatment, or his life's in danger."
"Don't worry, sir. Our teacher will have you fixed up in no time. You'll be back on your feet by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow… tomorrow…"
Akamatsu was frantic. What good was being "back on his feet" tomorrow? He couldn't afford to lose today!
But the more he struggled to speak, the less he could get the words out.
The medical ninjas paid him no mind, sprinting toward the medical tunnel with him on the stretcher, as if afraid he might leap up at any moment.
Midorima mentally gave his two colleagues a thumbs-up.
Their timing had been perfect—they'd swooped in and carried the man away before any further trouble could arise.
After leaving the arena, Midorima waved at Terumi Mei and Zabuza.
Terumi Mei gave him a thumbs-up in return, while Zabuza crossed his arms and let out a disdainful snort, looking away.
Midorima chuckled helplessly. Zabuza was still as taciturn as ever.
---
"Asachi Midorima…" Igawa clenched his fists, watching as Midorima disappeared into the competitor's tunnel. His face flushed red, veins bulging in his eyes.
He despised this outcome.
Akamatsu?
To disappoint him so thoroughly—he might as well die.
Not once in the entire match had he held even the slightest advantage. Like a dog, he'd been led around by the nose the whole time.
And in the end, while his opponent showed no signs of fatigue, he had panicked and thrown away whatever edge he had left.
What infuriated Igawa the most was that Akamatsu was an ANBU operative—someone who had fought in more battles than Midorima could even imagine, who had stared death in the face countless times. Yet his performance in this match had been nothing short of pathetic.
"But do you really think you'll be laughing in the end? Impossible… I swear, absolutely impossible!" Igawa bit down on his lip so hard that blood stained his teeth.
"Swear what?"
A voice suddenly spoke up behind him, startling him so badly he nearly screamed. He whirled around to see Ōgaki Yū swaying slightly as he approached.
This old bastard—didn't he know sneaking up on people could give them a heart attack?
Igawa forced a smile. "Nothing… I was just thinking today's matches have been truly spectacular. Maybe the Seven Swordsmen will finally find worthy successors."
"But for us, that's not necessarily a good thing," Ōgaki Yū remarked, giving Igawa a sidelong glance.
"Forgive my ignorance."
After working together for over a decade, Igawa knew exactly what Ōgaki was thinking.
Nine times out of ten, he wanted Igawa to stick his neck out and handle things.
If anything went wrong, Ōgaki could pin the blame on him while keeping his own hands clean.
But did Igawa look like an idiot?
"Since the selection tournament is already underway, and the remaining four Swordsmen are fully supporting it, trying to stop it now is out of the question. In that case, we might as well push our own people forward—like Zabuza. They were trained by us. If they join the Seven Swordsmen, our influence won't decline too drastically. What do you think?" Ōgaki asked.
Is this guy an idiot?
Rumor had it the brain and the large intestine looked somewhat similar. Had Ōgaki's brain mutated in his old age?
ANBU operatives joining the Seven Swordsmen—how could they possibly side with them?
More likely, they'd sever all ties and maybe even stomp on ANBU a few times for good measure.
That had always been Ōgaki's style.
Besides, Yagura wasn't a fool. If he saw ANBU and the Seven Swordsmen colluding, did Ōgaki really think he'd just sit back and do nothing?
"What do you suggest we do, then?" Igawa countered.
"After the top 24 are decided, the matchups will be redrawn. We can… make some adjustments," Ōgaki whispered.
Igawa's eyes lit up.
So Ōgaki's brain wasn't entirely made of intestines—at least part of it still worked.
More importantly, this aligned perfectly with his own goals.
Ōgaki wanted to ensure ANBU members made it into the Seven Swordsmen, while Igawa wanted Terauchi Midorima dead.
Both objectives could be achieved by manipulating the matchups.
"Well?"
"Not bad. It's worth considering," Igawa said, his eyes narrowing as his mood suddenly improved.
---
The Third Mizukage stood at a crossroads, looking left, then right, growing increasingly lost. Spotting a horse-drawn cart approaching, he quickly flagged it down.
"Ahem, excuse me, I wanted to ask…" The Third scratched his head. "Which way to Kirigakure?"
"Kirigakure?" The cart driver kept his distance from the disheveled old man. "You going for the tournament too?"
"Tournament? What tournament?" the Third asked, bewildered.
"You don't know? The Seven Swordsmen Selection Tournament! But you're going the wrong way. Take the second intersection back… Actually, just hop on the cart." The driver pointed to the hay piled in the back.
"You'll take me to Kirigakure?" the Third asked excitedly.
"In your dreams! At most, I'll drop you at the fork in the road."
"The fork?" The Third only hesitated for a second before climbing onto the cart, startling the driver.
"To Kirigakure!"
"I already said I'm not going to Kirigakure!!" the driver protested again, flicking the reins to urge the horse forward.