"Let me at least ask one thing first," Hagoromo said.
His left arm extended straight out, his right arm wrapping around it as he twisted his waist, stretching as though preparing for some kind of exercise while speaking to Yagura.
"You've secured the Byakugan, haven't you?"
"Yes," Yagura replied calmly.
"Though it's unfortunate for you, I can tell you this much—the shinobi carrying the Byakugan should already be back in Kirigakure by now."
He wasn't saying this out of kindness.
At this point, there was no longer any reason to conceal the truth. The Byakugan had already been delivered—did Konoha really think they could storm Kirigakure to retrieve it?
If they tried, the Mist would welcome them enthusiastically.
Besides, in Yagura's eyes, Hagoromo was already a dead man.
Granting a dying enemy a small courtesy wasn't a problem.
What Yagura didn't realize was that this way of thinking was a death flag.
Once such a flag was raised, Hagoromo simply couldn't die here anymore.
Still, the answer resolved Hagoromo's doubts.
The mission had succeeded.
That explained the signal, and the coordinated withdrawal of the Kirigakure forces.
"How about this," Hagoromo said, sounding almost naïve.
"Since neither of us has made a move yet, why don't we each go home? We don't have any personal grudge, you've already gotten what you wanted, and our mission has failed. Speaking purely for myself—I don't really have a reason to keep fighting."
Was this actually negotiable?
The words sounded familiar.
Right—he'd said something similar to Rōshi earlier.
That conversation had ended with Rōshi transforming into his tailed-beast state.
But Hagoromo's attitude made it difficult for Yagura to imagine that this was the same person who had killed one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
In truth, Yagura didn't know that detail.
He only knew that Biwako Jūzō was dead—not how, or at whose hands.
Even if Mei and Zabuza had voiced suspicions, they had no proof.
"You're a shinobi of Konoha," Yagura replied with a smile.
"I serve Kirigakure. What you're proposing is obviously impossible, isn't it?"
There was no warmth in his eyes.
"I figured as much," Hagoromo said with clear disappointment.
"Are you done preparing?" Yagura asked.
So that was it.
He hadn't attacked earlier because he was waiting for Hagoromo to finish that awkward-looking warm-up.
"Wait!" Hagoromo suddenly said.
"I've got one last—purely personal—question. You've got such a baby face, so forgive my bluntness, but… how old are you this year? Otherwise, fighting you feels like bullying a kid."
Sometimes, intentionally or not, Hagoromo was extremely good at provoking people.
Yagura answered the question—
With his weapon.
A staff-like club—thin at the front, thick at the rear, hooks on both ends, one decorated with a green flower—came crashing down.
Hagoromo had expected this.
He had a fairly good idea what his words would provoke.
And judging by that peculiar weapon, it was obvious Yagura specialized in unconventional taijutsu.
So Hagoromo chose defense first.
Lightning flashed.
Iron sand flowed like liquid, clinging to his body—
Just before the hooked staff struck.
Yagura's first blow aimed straight for Hagoromo's ribs!
Hagoromo raised his iron-sand-wrapped right arm to block.
The attack was stopped—
But he had misjudged the sheer power behind it.
The force sent his arm flying upward.
Without pause, Yagura rotated the weapon, striking with the opposite end, sweeping in from the side toward Hagoromo's neck.
A vital area.
One clean hit there would end the fight instantly.
Naturally, Hagoromo reinforced his defense. Layer upon layer of iron sand stacked together. Even as Yagura's grip numbed from the recoil, he couldn't break through.
By now, the two were extremely close.
Yagura's hands were occupied—but his legs weren't.
Applying the principle of unused limbs are wasted limbs, he kicked Hagoromo squarely in the abdomen.
At first glance, Hagoromo looked completely at Yagura's mercy.
Was this some kind of awakening of an M-type soul?
Obviously not.
If forced to choose between S and M, Hagoromo would choose S every time.
If his hand slipped during the selection, he'd be an S-type sadist.
Though he seemed to be taking hits, Hagoromo's defense was flawless. None of Yagura's attacks had actually caused real damage.
"Your attacks are fast," Hagoromo said calmly.
"Your offense is relentless—always aiming for instant-kill vital points."
"Baby face, short limbs… but astonishing strength."
From this brief exchange, Hagoromo extracted valuable information.
Most shinobi would use shadow clones to gather intel against an unfamiliar opponent.
Hagoromo preferred firsthand experience.
Yagura's strength was no joke.
That last kick had sent Hagoromo tumbling across the water's surface several times.
Yagura didn't pursue.
He, too, was surprised by Hagoromo's defensive method—and its effectiveness.
It was clear his staff strikes hadn't inflicted any real damage.
"My turn," Hagoromo said.
As though nothing had happened, he climbed back up from the sea—
And charged straight at Yagura!
In front of Yagura, water suddenly took shape.
A circular water mirror formed out of nothing.
Yagura hooked the top edge of the mirror with one end of his staff.
From within the mirror—
Another Hagoromo burst out.
What the hell is this?
This was—
Water Release: Water Mirror Technique!
The clone carried the same crackling Chidori Current.
A perfect replica.
Unfortunately for Yagura—
This kind of imitation was meaningless against Hagoromo.
Iron sand shot out from behind him—black as night.
High-frequency vibration turned it into an unstoppable projectile.
Without changing expression, Hagoromo shredded the replica into fragments in an instant!
But the brief obstruction was enough—
Yagura's next attack was already upon him!
The hooked staff struck again!
Hagoromo raised his right hand to block once more—
But this time, his arm didn't budge.
His lightning-wreathed palm clamped down, firmly gripping Yagura's weapon.
In the next instant—
All restraints seemed to vanish.
A massive bloom of lightning exploded across the sea's surface.
The higher the output, the harder it was to control precisely—
Or rather, precision no longer mattered.
This was raw, unrestrained violence.
Lightning ran wild across the ocean.
And Hagoromo spoke again.
He said—
"Kid…
Uncle's got you now."
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