Hayashi ignored the flickering aura around him as the water clone lunged forward once more. This time he did not evade, choosing instead to meet it head‑on. He could not sustain such intensity for long, and time was not something he had to spare.
With less than half a meter between them, Hayashi saw a face identical to his own. It was handsome, eerily familiar, but there was no time to appreciate the sight before Hayashi initiated a sudden burst of speed. His movement disrupted the clone's rhythm; in an instant he appeared behind it, like a black blur.
The clone sensed his motion too late. A powerful whip‑like kick struck its back so forcefully the water form collapsed into a puddle upon impact.
Yagura, who had been shifting to flank Hayashi, halted suddenly. He had witnessed the mirror image vanish in a single strike. Was he surprised or afraid? Neither. His expression remained as calm and blank as ever.
For Yagura was not truly free in body, but controlled like a puppet by genjutsu.
He immediately began forming seals to launch a powerful Water Style attack, preparing the Water Dragon Bullet Technique. This jutsu molded a massive amount of water into the form of a dragon and directed it at the enemy with crushing force — normally requiring seals and often a nearby source of water.
But Yagura never got the jutsu off in time. Before his forty‑four seals could be completed, Hayashi had already materialized before him.
Hayashi's strike was simple, brutal, and fast — a single, focused hand chop, not even a full lightning technique.
His punch drove toward Yagura's chest with precise intent. The strike should have pierced through, but it connected only with Yagura's water clone.
"Water Style Water Dragon Bullet," Yagura managed to complete, the summoned water attack exploding forward toward Hayashi.
But Hayashi vanished in a blur, appearing roughly ten meters to the side of his opponent.
In the darkness of the night, his arms moved so rapidly they sparked from sheer friction, glowing like a blinding incandescent light. The electricity from his movement created dazzling sparks that held an almost hypnotic, dangerous beauty.
The incoming Water Dragon force was formidable. Yagura formed seals and forced massive torrents of Water Release from his mouth, attempting to create a giant cushion of water to absorb the impact. But before the water could coalesce, a brilliant arc of violet flame burst downward from above — the Morning Peacock Technique unleashed from Hayashi's speed, incinerating the assault before it formed.
Scalding bursts of steam echoed as the water evaporated instantly under the onslaught.
Moments later, Hayashi landed from mid‑air and looked down at Yagura, unconscious and crumpled in the crater. The threat in front of him had vanished.
But this ambush could not possibly end here. Yagura was only a link in a chain of danger. He was neither the first nor the last.
Hayashi stood still, unmovable. Silence spread, neither brief nor long, until the very air seemed to stretch.
Then the ultimate threat revealed itself.
From the darkness, a familiar presence struck without warning — Pakura's father, Uchiha Fugaku, who had been watching from the shadows until his patience snapped. His right eye was shut tight, blood gathering around his left socket and trailing down his cheek like a streak of crimson.
"Amaterasu," Fugaku whispered, unleashing the inextinguishable black flames with a single glance of his Mangekyō Sharingan.
His attack was swift and deadly — the flames would burn anything until completely incinerated. No light, no water, nothing could normally stop its ferocity.
Hayashi, exhausted from opening the Sixth Gate moments earlier, was still covered in dried blood from his battle. Yet the scream Fugaku expected never came. Instead, Hayashi calmly continued walking forward through the black fire.
The Amaterasu had failed.
Unseen by Fugaku, Hayashi had prepared a contingency. A scroll containing a unique countermeasure had been unfurled and absorbed the black flames as if they were nothing, just as a whale swallows water. He had anticipated such a trap.
The source of further chakra fluctuation was nearby. In his hand now appeared a kunai outfitted with a uniquely inscribed exploding tag — not ordinary, but complex, dense with seal designs unique to the Second Hokage's ingenuity. This was the Intertwining Explosive Tags technique, designed to detonate with chaotic unpredictability to buy time.
Hayashi's final strike had been a lie up until now. This was truly his last card.
A faint smile curved his lips as he hurled the kunai toward the hidden threat, commanding it to detonate.
"Detonate!"
The explosion's shockwave blasted behind him. Hayashi brushed away dust from his combat‑scarred clothes and, without hesitation, turned his footsteps deeper into the ravine. He did not care if bones were fractured or organs displaced — nothing would stop him.
Distance and time meant nothing now. He had reached his destination.
"Hayashi?" A trembling voice called from the shadows.
"It's me," Hayashi replied, voice steady and calm, stepping into view. "I've come to take you home."
"You shouldn't have come," the voice quavered, now choked with emotion. "This gorge is covered in exploding tags!"
"Exploding tags? How unfortunate," Hayashi said softly as he approached the trembling figure and crouched beside her. "But I already am here."
"I'm… sorry…" she whispered through held‑back sobs.
"No." Hayashi gently lifted her chin, worry and tenderness in his eyes. "Himeji, you have nothing to apologize for. I chose to be here."
Her face lifted, eyes rimmed with blood‑like tears that streamed from her sockets, yet her gaze found his.
Hayashi's heart tightened. He lifted her into his arms and let her rest against his shoulder.
"Himeji," he murmured, voice hushed, "you are so beautiful… in a way that made me think, when I first faced Yagura, that dying here beside you might not be so bad."
A faint smile flickered on her lips, even as tears fell.
Beneath them, the vast field of exploding tags — buried by White Zetsu and hidden like flitting butterflies — was finally exposed, sheets upon sheets of explosive seals sprawling outward, overwhelming in scale.
Hayashi's Sharingan began to spin, his three tomoe rotating slowly, then faster, until they formed the classic swirling pattern. He closed one eye, letting fresh blood trickle from the other as he activated Magatsu‑no‑Jutsu.
Instantly, the White Zetsu guiding the exploding tag detonations outside the gorge collapsed, frozen in place.
Hayashi carried Himeji on his back. The tongues of fire from the exploding tags now engulfed them like a visual storm, yet they passed through with no effect — as if the explosions themselves were illusions.
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