"Did I guess right?"
"A young genius, was it?"
During the brief mont Hagoromo froze, the masked ninja had already read the answer from his reaction. While he couldn't be one hundred percent certain that Hagoromo was the so-called White Fang, his confidence was easily above eighty percent.
"And how exactly did you determine that I'm this 'White Fang'?" Hagoromo asked. He neither confird nor denied it—but he was genuinely curious how the man had reached that conclusion.
Standing atop the tree branch, the masked ninja let out a hoarse laugh, his voice rough and ambiguous—sowhere between bold and sly. He clearly enjoyed watching young ninjas look confused.
It made them look foolish.
But once the laughter faded, it was obvious he had no intention of explaining anything. He had neither the interest nor the obligation.
"My luck today is excellent," the masked ninja continued. "The terrain, the environnt, the weather—they all favor . You're looking at a dead end… unless you'd like to surrender?"
"Surrender?" Hagoromo replied calmly. "Aren't you mistaken? We have the advantage in both numbers and combat strength."
Advantage?
Hagoromo's thoughts flickered.
Is he a Water Release specialist?
If so, then the weather truly favored the enemy. Among the four Konoha ninja, none specialized in Water Release. Two of them were proficient with Fire Release—but in a torrential downpour, Fire Release was heavily suppressed.
"For ," the masked ninja began, "numbers don't—"
Hagoromo didn't let him finish.
He had already issued every necessary order.
There was no reason to keep talking. This wasn't the ti to discuss life philosophies.
Without warning, Hagoromo snapped his arm upward. What he threw wasn't a shuriken—
It was a lightning-charged Chidori Senbon–like thrust, a spear of concentrated Lightning Release stabbing straight toward the enemy!
In a direct confrontation like this, the enemy was already on high alert. Before the attack even reached them, both Fūma ninja leapt sharply to opposite sides, evading with fluid precision.
Any ninja capable of sensing chakra could tell how dangerous that Lightning Release was. Dodging was instinctive.
And Hagoromo's goal had never been an instant kill.
It was separation.
"According to plan—attack!"
Hagoromo imdiately charged the opponent he had chosen.
Were Asuma and the others in danger fighting one enemy three-on-one?
Of course.
While Konoha had the nurical advantage, the enemy clearly possessed greater experience. But Hagoromo had no choice.
In multi-ninja combat, eliminating the enemy was often easier than protecting allies. The masked Fūma ninja was far too dangerous—especially for Asuma's group. Hagoromo had to handle him personally.
The battlefield had to be split.
Otherwise, if that masked ninja broke through and targeted the others—Yūhi Kurenai, in particular, would stand no chance.
What Hagoromo didn't expect was this—
The masked ninja turned and ran.
That suited Hagoromo just fine.
The separation happened even more cleanly than he had anticipated.
"So it really is hand-seal-less Lightning Release…"
The enemy didn't counterattack at all, and his movents aligned far too perfectly with Hagoromo's expectations. That montary hesitation flickered through Hagoromo's mind—but there was no ti to dwell on it.
He gave chase.
Just as he'd judged earlier, the enemy was fast. Extrely fast.
And agile.
Unlike Hagoromo's more direct, almost battering-ram-like approach, this man's movent was fluid, constantly weaving through the forest canopy rather than charging in a straight line.
Sotis the enemy was clearly visible. More often, he vanished into blind spots that made launching an attack nearly impossible.
Hagoromo struggled to find an opening.
anwhile, the enemy's attacks never stopped.
Running with his back to Hagoromo, the masked ninja moved as if he had eyes on the back of his head, continuously flinging shuriken of various sizes without even turning around.
Their accuracy was terrifying.
Small shuriken could be knocked aside with kunai.
But when massive Fūma shuriken ca spinning through the rain, Hagoromo could only dodge.
The Fūma Clan's shuriken-throwing jutsus were their signature. Unlike Hagoromo's borderline "cheating" precision, this was the result of relentless training.
The chase carried them into a relatively open area of the forest.
Suddenly, the masked ninja stopped.
Hagoromo halted roughly twenty ters away.
Without the forest canopy, the rain fell heavier and faster.
Hagoromo suspected a trap.
As for the enemy abandoning his companions—Hagoromo didn't care. From their earlier exchange, it was clear the man felt nothing for subordinates.
The sounds of combat echoed faintly in the distance. If Hagoromo turned his head, he might see steam rising between the trees—
Asuma's Fire Release.
In rain like this, Fire Release would be heavily weakened.
Unless it was sothing on the level of Amaterasu, of course.
The masked ninja was fast—adept at Body Flicker–style movent.
This was the first ti Hagoromo had faced another speed-type ninja.
The enemy reached behind his back and removed several massive shuriken strapped there. Instead of throwing them, he casually dropped them to the ground.
Shedding weight.
Then chakra surged into his legs.
Power buildup.
He said nothing.
But the bloodlust flashing in his eyes spoke louder than words.
Those eyes…
Hagoromo found himself believing the man's earlier claim—that he fought simply because he enjoyed killing.
Lightning Release flared again, Chidori Nagashi enveloping Hagoromo's body in a crackling defensive field.
Chidori Nagashi could barely be classified as a form of absolute defense. With attack and defense synchronized at this scale, the masked ninja clearly understood the danger—
And yet, in the next instant, he charged straight at Hagoromo.
Fast.
But different.
Compared to Hagoromo, the enemy's movent had clear distinctions.
Shorter steps.
Lower center of gravity.
Body leaning forward, almost glued to the ground.
Arms trailing far back.
From above, on the rain-flooded ground, his path looked like a skipping stone skimming across water.
With a rhythmic rise and fall—
He was already in Hagoromo's range.
The enemy's right hand snapped forward, brushing past the ninja pouch strapped to his thigh. His middle finger hooked cleanly—
And a kunai slid into his grip.
Blade down.
His arm swept upward in one fluid motion—aiming for Hagoromo's abdon, chest, and throat in succession.
Fast.
Precise.
A textbook killing strike.
Hagoromo was ready.
His right foot tapped back lightly, his upper body arching backward in a deep lean—
Barely, barely dodging the blade.
But the attack wasn't over.
啪.
A sharp sound.
Hagoromo's eyes caught the mont the enemy's left hand slapped onto his right wrist.
Two hands.
Double force.
The kunai that had just passed over Hagoromo's face reversed direction and stabbed downward at twice the previous speed!
A sudden shift in attack rhythm—
Hagoromo wasn't the only one capable of that.
Chidori Nagashi—maximum output!
Retreat!
Full retreat!
Hagoromo exploded backward, his right foot launching his body more than five ters in an instant.
For a fleeting mont, it felt as though space itself had been torn apart.
This might have been the fastest movent Hagoromo had ever executed.
Had he been even a fraction slower, the kunai would have pierced his chest.
He steadied his breathing.
His heart felt as though it had skipped half a beat.
"I told you," the masked ninja said calmly. "The environnt favors ."
The strike had failed—but there was no frustration in his voice.
Rainwater caused the Lightning Release spilling from Hagoromo's body to scatter uncontrollably. Objectively, Chidori Nagashi now covered a wider area—
But its power, defense, penetration, and paralysis effects were all significantly diluted.
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