With a loud, endless tirade of thudding, passionate feet picking up dirt and dust, the empty road filled with mercenaries. Kiyomi and Waiso followed the rushing crowd outside, they simply mixed into the crowd which appeared quite willing to let them join their ranks. Hanasaku settled down by the bar, choosing to get something to eat and drink instead. She did not need to say the word, as large as the mercenary ruffian was Meiko had it covered in the mind of the Sannin.

The crowd cleared out an opening, standing around it in a ring formation, creating a living fighting stage made of dirt and patches of grass and fenced off by the living barrier of passionate and positively drunk individuals. Some of them yelled obscenities, some of them encouraged their pal while others were too drunk for their yells to make any sense at all.

The towering mercenary removed a long, weapon shaped pack that he wore behind him. Due to the massive size of the man, it was not easily visible and the massive frame made the rather unimpressive weapon drown in the muscular back of its owner. With a rub of his hand, carefully undoing the bind and then unwrapping the weapon from its black cloth cover, the colossal mercenary was finally armed.

"That's one impressive weapon!" Meiko noticed. Stars shimmered in her eyes as they ran down the obsidian black color of the material the weapon was made of.

It was no blade. More like a bar that was shaped like a training sword but it did not appear to be sharp or capable of cutting anything. It could have been a non-lethal weapon. Carrying something like that out in the open or giving such a bar of blackness for inspection, the man did not risk attracting too much attention. Or so he had thought as the non-lethal bokken of whatever it was made of was more visually impressive than most blades Meiko had seen in her life.

"Right? Gonna make a fortune selling it on the black market. All sorts of figures are gonna show up, looking to pay any amount of money for a bit more of the only currency that matters – power!" the mercenary smiled in pride. His eyes ran down the blackness of his own bokken. It was then that Kiyomi's eyes picked up on a particularly peculiar detail.

"What's wrong with that sword?" she asked out loud, trying to make Meiko give the sword a closer look. It would not have been completely impossible for the blacksmith to have missed out on a major detail after she was drooling all over the weapon. Just like someone admiring the finer aspects of the feminine forms often forgot to remember the color of the woman's eyes.

"You mean what's awesome about it?" Meiko grinned. She reached for her own forearm, dragging her hand across her wrist guard and leaving a glowing source of bluish light on the armor piece. The blacksmith pulled out the sword that her father gave her before she left.

"Now that you mention it…" Waiso scratched his chin, feeling stumped. "The surface does look very odd… Almost like the bokken is searing hot and messing up the air around it."

"Tsk. Those mercenaries… Always getting their hands on pricy equipment without learning to use it." Kiyomi grumbled. This encounter made her recall her own experience when she and Mana faced a leader of the mercenary gang who also, not unlike this gent here, got his hands on some heavy Konoha military cargo.

"What? You mean all of you aren't going to come at me at once?" Meiko raised an eyebrow when the tower of a man took an offensive stance with his peculiar bokken.

Without answering with anything but a wild and deafening battle roar, the man charged at Meiko, swinging his usual sized bokken at her. Meiko placed her buckler up for an easy block. It seemed like a very reckless way of attack, the man was clearly forcing his massive frame to work overtime but his sword was relatively small for his size. It was evident that he used his overwhelming strength to swing his weird blade as hard as he could instead of relying on the weight of his sword.

A simple buckler block should have done it. The moment the black bokken touched Meiko's buckler, the blacksmith flew aside, as if her own blade was trying to run away at breakneck speed, carrying its owner with it. The redhead broke through a bunch of mercenaries who were too slow to move aside and crashed into the woods, creating a trail of devastation where she was thrown. If the attack came from a different direction, the blacksmith would have demolished the entire inn.

"Heh, heh… Hundreds of thousands of tons compressed into the size of a simple bokken. So immensely dense is this sword, that it bends the space around it slightly. I'm the only one in my band strong enough to wield it," The man grinned, feeling so happy with himself that he was beginning to wrap his sword back up.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow looking at Meiko and Waiso, who was pulling his hair from his scalp. "Any of you looking for more trouble or are we done here?" the man grinned.

"Oh? Talking mighty already?" Kiyomi snickered with a mocking tone. "I thought you were going to take some of us to the black market deal? I'm sure ninja would be worth something…"

"Pfff…" the man sprayed like a horse. "Weaklings like you can't be worth the hassle it'd make to carry your heads around. This is where I and my men are celebrating tonight, scram!"

A loud rumble of a tree being throw against a bunch of other trees and knocking them over interrupted the merc's shit-talk. Within mere moments, Meiko's ecstatic face busted through the wooden rubble, filled with splinters and wood chips that barely penetrated her skin – the weakest part of the defensive augmentations but got stuck without drawing blood.

"That sword looks fun but it's not what I'm looking for, sadly." Meiko pouted her lips before swiping aside the dust and wreckage that got stuck in between her armor pieces and under.

"Is that so?" the mercenary grinned. He must have taken Meiko for some sort of a loony. A weakling who got tossed around by the mere swings of his bokken could not have possibly shown her teeth contesting for his precious possession. This treasure that would bring him a fortune.

"Yeah. It packs a mean punch due to its density, the space warping effect pulls you in a little when it gets close making it tough to block but… I no longer am looking to walk the path of brute strength." Meiko confirmed. "I'm trying to master something different entirely."

"What would that be?" the mercenary wondered to make fun of the delirious, as far as he was concerned, girl.

"This…" Meiko placed her sword in an offensive stance as she prepared for an attack. The blacksmith's eyes became concentrated on a single point. She kept on staring at the blade of her sword as if trying to peek a hole through it. A brief sparkle of blue light lit up by the side of the blade's edge but went out as quickly as it appeared.

The band sunk away in the thundering roars of laughter. Several members of the band fell over overcome by joy, a joy that was made even more severe by the amount of alcohol they have ingested previously.

"Well… Not that your new path was not absolutely hilarious…" the mercenary wiped the teary of laughter eyes, too slow to properly react and prepare for Meiko's upcoming attack.

It was like Meiko suddenly became a raging animal, like her failure made her switch from the happy-go-lucky personality into one that used violence as a way to quench down the frustration of failing once again to imbue her sword with chakra, even after it was made from special material which was supposed to make it easier to do so.

The towering man leaned back, lifted his sword up in generalized positions. The man was throwing it about in wide positions, doing his best to deflect any attacks that Meiko threw his way. The man was lucky that the density of his sword and the space-bending effect appeared to also attract the incoming attacks towards his blade, or else he'd have been completely shredded by the flurry of attacks.

The mercenary staggered back with his eyes gaping wide in fear. He fell on his butt before quickly using his free hand to push himself back up to his feet. Sweat ran down the man's forehead and he gulped heavily. In the passing moments, he wondered extensively if he was just drunk and that was why he could barely perceive the furious flurry of strikes, usually the easiest kind to perceive and predict, or if his opponent was truly just that fast.

"Sorry, it's a work in progress and when it fails I get a little rowdy…" Meiko switched back to her previous personality just as quick as it was unleashed.

"I may have underestimated you before." The mercenary admitted. Kiyomi was surprised to hear those words watching from aside. Then again, what else did she expect to hear after seeing Meiko flip out like that? Had it not been for the weird ability of this bokken to warp the space around it, Meiko would have killed the poor mercenary just now.

The mercenary with the black bokken attacked once more. This time it was not a mad charge. He knew who he was dealing with and therefore he employed proper footwork, restraint and calculated strikes that betrayed his origin to be somewhere closer to the Land of Iron. The strikes of this man, using both hands and very graceful swings, reminded an informed observer of the style of swordsmanship of the more north-western styles.

Meiko's sword danced with similar grace and restraint. The previous outburst of anger was no longer present or even traceable. Oddly enough, not only did the blacksmith manage to match her opponent's swordsmanship beat for beat but exploit sloppy openings by smacking him with the blunt part of the sword.

The elegance of the blacksmith was remarkable. Her speed changed in a blink of an eye depending on what she needed. She applied forceful, slow blocks and pokes to defend herself against the dense bokken, this time fully knowing of the bokken's special effects and applying ample strength to defend against them. Then, switching to lightning-fast smacks just to show her opponent the difference between their speed… No… Their skill.

With the final strike, one that was a clear result of Meiko's opponent being thrown off balance, coming from above at a vertical, smashing down motion, the blacksmith vaulted over it like water. The motion of her legs, the complete elasticity and speed were to be admired but the common mercenaries were very unlikely to have even perceived that motion.

All that they saw was the buckler part of Meiko's sword smashing into the face of their head honcho and sending him swaying and tumbling back. Grabbing air behind him because his head was so disoriented that the towering man was no longer sure if he was falling or standing upright. The busted up nose and the blood rushing from it only added to the man's troubles and confusion.

"W-What happened?" the man growled. He grabbed his bleeding nose and held it like a precious, smashed doll with his palm. Hoping that if he grumbled and complained loud enough, his doll would grow back together.

"Before we were comparing blades," Meiko noted casually. "I had hoped that with this different material I'd be more successful at imbuing my sword with a chakra cloak. That would have helped me split your sword in half without any effort."

"Say what?" the man huffed, trying to stumble forward for another series of strikes but tripping over his own uneasy footing and falling on his knees in the process.

"That's right. Your sword is of fine quality. Usually, a newbie blacksmith, when he makes a blade like this overcompensates for its qualities. They focus on rough and powerful materials being smashed together, molten into a tough, solid shape. What results of such work lacking love and emotion is a material without spirit. Just like a person needs both spiritual and physical unity, a fine blade requires it to be strong as well. In those cases, be it a blade of billion, trillion tons compressed into a single bokken, an ounce of chakra imbued into the opposing force will break it without a problem."

Meiko was really admirable and composed when she spoke of craftsmanship. Unlike plenty of other things that she encountered, being a blacksmith was a part of the girl's identity, for that reason she looked strong and confident when discussing it. On top of the world, some would say, even.

"What I showed you now was a comparison of skill instead of blades. This is where your flaws start showing. I am a fine swordfighter, the training and the willpower of generations of Konoha's swordsmen and the lessons they learned are all flowing in my veins. Each mistake they made, is a lesson I can learn when looking back at them. Because of that which this side of the Will of Fire teaches, you can never beat me in a swordfight."

"Is that so?" the mercenary wiped the blood off his nose, seeing that the flow of life essence from inside was beginning to seem much more manageable. This speech, while impressive and well-delivered, was giving him time to manage his injuries somewhat.

"That's right. You have three major flaws in your style. It's nothing to be ashamed of, eliminating all flaws from one's style is impossible. However, usually, a swordsman builds their sword to help them cover for those flaws. In your case – you steal and use swords other swordsmen made for themselves and they are a poor fit for you."

Meiko's body blurred in, her movements were by no means subtle as the grass and the trees around her rustled, betraying the direction she took. Rushing in ahead, blindly, as if overcome by the same rage she was before. The blacksmith's image flashed right up close to her opponent, at the optimal distance where he would have cut her down. The swipe of the obsidian bokken only stroke thin air.

A crunchy sounding noise made the eyes of the mercenary widen so far that they almost popped out. The man screamed out and collapsed on one knee, clutching his other foot that was crushed by Meiko's foot, after she ducked under the sword strike she could see a mile away. That was the case with the basic sword fighting styles – they were predictable, even if it was impressive that this mercenary muscle-head had the discipline to master some basic steps.

"Your footwork is shoddy. You have very large, exposed feet and your style does nothing about protecting your lower body." Meiko educated the whining in pain man. "Your bokken only attracts and bends strikes that are coming close to it while you wield it at relatively high altitudes because of your size, that means if someone was to target your feet – your space-bending trick would do nothing to help you."

Meiko rushed in again. The man raised his sword in the air like a scared and injured hunter, pointing his spear to protect him from the wild animal that was about to feast on his flesh. The blacksmith grabbed the sword with her free hand and shoved it aside, her eyes twitched in slight physical difficulty at coping with the bent and crushed space around the blade but the redhead managed somehow.

Another buckler strike sent the massive man down on his back. Extending flat, with his hands wide. Only the angry, ridden with pain eyes, twitching muscles and the swiftly, irregularly lifting up and down chest betrayed that the man was still very much conscious.

"Your sword is a bokken. While its density and space-bending ability are impressive, it still is a non-edged weapon, meaning someone of enough physical strength to withstand the space-bending effect can grab its surface easily." Meiko pointed out. It did not appear like the man was willing to be punished for the third mistake he had in his style. It made the blacksmith have to speak without demonstration.

"To finish it off…" Meiko started the finishing touches of her mentoring the mercenary when the man came alive and wrapped his massive arm around her foot. The mercenary rolled onto his feet and lifted the blacksmith up, spun her around his head and intended to smash her into the ground beneath her feet where he could finish her off while he had his hands on her.

Before the bloody and brutal plan could be realized, Meiko smacked the two sides of the man's wrists with both of hers, bending her body in mid-air, before gracefully landing on the ground by the weakened mercenary, clutching at his numbed wrist. The blacksmith proceeded to sweep the feet of the giant from behind and down him again.

"Your sword-fighting style is only valid when facing your opponent up front. If any of your opponents managed to move in from behind you, your entire strategy crumbles in of itself." The blacksmith shrugged while checking on her opponent's willingness to keep playing with her. Much to her disappointment, the man kept on wheezing on the ground, possibly due to him having busted some ribs on his uneasy way down.

The other mercenaries moved out of Meiko's way in respectful fear as the redhead passed them by. Only now did they notice how tall and bulky the girl herself was, having underestimated the fact that a late teenager could match grown men in size and bulk before.

"I must say, I underestimated you, Meiko." Waiso lifted his large glasses up and rubbed his eyes before licking his palm and dragging it across his messy, greasy hair. "When you bullied me around I thought of you as an ill-mannered ruffian and your buffoonery was very much not to my sanction but I see now that you are a professional deserving my respect!"

"You may be smarter than Mana but you also speak really weird!" Meiko pointed her finger at the nerdy companion of hers and laughed out loud in his mockery.

"That's why I love you, Meiko", Kiyomi smiled to herself. The head of the Yamanaka held nodded down with her eyes closed and covered up by the front locks of her hair. "You and your chubby cheeks!"

The blonde came alive after that last remark, jumping at her teammate and starting to bully the bully back with some friendly yet painful ninja cheek-pinches. Meiko had to elbow Kiyomi in the gut and lift her in the air by the wrist playfully to make her friend stop teasing her.

"Didn't you see that? I'm Cool Meiko now!" Meiko showed her half-subdued teammate the tongue much to Kiyomi's chuckling amusement.

Meiko may have played it off for laughs, but her spiritual training in her quest to learn how to sit still and concentrate went a long way towards improving her as a person and as a combatant. Even if she may not have seen it at that moment, her teammates saw through it immediately.

There was something profoundly poetic in the growth of people you have known for a long time. Or people you thought you knew only for them to reveal their true, wonderful selves.