The Fire Release was still raging. Sasori had not immediately shaken off Fire Dragon Flame Bullet.
What Sasori felt while being "roasted" was anyone's guess, but after severing Hiruko's tail, Hagoromo didn't let up for even a second. Using the cover of the flames, his assault only intensified.
The output of Chidori Current surged. Arcs of violent Lightning Release sliced cleanly through the fire without resistance. Trusting that level of penetration, Hagoromo charged straight into the flames without hesitation.
Chidori Current wrapped tightly around his right arm. Before Hiruko could retract the remaining half of its severed tail, Hagoromo grabbed hold of the broken section.
As if he weren't afraid of being poisoned.
Could Hagoromo ignore toxins?
Of course not.
A closer look revealed that although he had seized the tail, his palm never actually made contact with it. Violent lightning separated his hand from the blade-like metal, forming an invisible cushion of electricity.
The pulling force from the other end of the tail was tremendous. If this came down to raw strength, Hagoromo's human body was no match for a puppet.
So a stalemate was not an option.
Lightning Release flared again—power transferring from his waist to his shoulder, from shoulder to arm—an explosive burst of force that yanked the flame-wrapped Hiruko violently upward.
His body followed through, arching backward. By the time his back hit the ground, Hiruko had already been lifted into the air.
Firelight and crackling lightning filled his vision, but through the feedback in his hand, Hagoromo knew Hiruko's exact position.
Like flowing water, all the lightning around his body shifted in that instant—redirecting toward his right leg.
Then, with a backward kick, he didn't strike so much as send—
Hiruko was hurled in a specific direction.
Naturally, Sasori didn't just sit idle. Even without its tail, Hiruko continued emitting that distinctive 嘎嘎 mechanical clatter, constantly twisting its angle while firing volleys of poisoned needles at Hagoromo.
Hagoromo had only used one Shadow Clone. Sasori was more than capable of distinguishing the real body from the clone, so his relentless barrage focused entirely on the original.
From above, the density of those needles looked like a torrential downpour.
Logically speaking, Hagoromo had just been lying flat on his back, limbs extended—an utterly defenseless posture. He should have been turned into a pincushion.
Yet the needles never achieved their intended effect.
They were all deflected before reaching him.
The reason was simple.
Hagoromo knew his limits. If he relied solely on ninjutsu—if he fought purely as a conventional ninja—he stood no chance against Sasori of the Red Sand. There was no way he could have defended against that barrage under normal circumstances.
So he adapted.
Faced with weapons that meant instant death on contact, he decisively activated magnetic-field defense. Training techniques mattered only if you lived long enough to use them.
At this moment, Shiraishi Hagoromo the ninja was already halfway offline—
And Hagoromo the esper was stepping onto the stage.
Meanwhile, the direction Hiruko was flung toward—
Was precisely where Hagoromo's shadow clone stood.
The clone's movements were perfectly synchronized with the original.
To lure Hiruko into extending its tail, the clone had first retreated rapidly. The moment the real body severed the tail, the clone immediately reversed direction and charged forward instead.
In that instant, nearly all of the clone's chakra erupted outward. It shone even brighter than the original.
Without hesitation, it sprinted toward the airborne Hiruko.
A straight-line dash at maximum speed—Hagoromo's fastest mode of movement.
From the front, it looked like spatial displacement.
From the side, only layered afterimages remained.
The clone leaned sharply forward, its upper body almost parallel to the ground. From an aesthetic standpoint, this all-out sprint was ugly—like some kind of aberrant creature.
But looking good had never been part of the plan.
Hiruko was right in front of him.
The clone's right foot, wrapped in Chidori Current, slammed into the ground. The earth shattered instantly, the recoil boosting his speed even further.
Body like a fully drawn bow—
Form like a lightning bolt!
The Chidori Current around him vanished in an instant, condensing entirely into his right hand.
Chidori → Lightning Cutter (Raikiri).
This kind of high-speed thrust didn't rely on visual precision. Hagoromo didn't care where he hit—only that he hit.
Fortunately, Hiruko was suspended in midair, practically a stationary target.
His arm plunged clean through the puppet's body, impaling it straight through a vital internal section.
That single, extreme strike nearly exhausted all of the clone's chakra.
But it wasn't over yet.
There was still one final use for this clone.
Hiss—hiss—hiss.
One tag. Two tags. Three—
Explosive tags ignited across the clone's body.
Then—
BOOM!
A point-blank, suicide-style detonation.
Explosive tags were among the most lethal—and practical—ninja tools ever created.
The only prerequisite was that they actually hit.
Consider how many important figures had fallen to them since their invention…
Well. Did Nawaki count?
In any case, by sacrificing the clone, Hagoromo ensured that Sasori could not evade this attack.
That said, Hagoromo never expected the explosion itself to deal decisive damage. Hiruko's defensive capability was well known—if Sasori really died to this, then he would have been the real fake boss.
But Hagoromo had kept his word.
He said he'd drag Sasori out of his "shell."
And he did.
This exchange had unfolded at lightning speed. On the surface, it looked like Hagoromo had the upper hand—but in truth, without resorting to his trump cards, he would already be lying dead on the ground.
Dawn had begun to break.
The smoke kicked up by the explosion gradually dispersed.
Hagoromo did not recklessly press the attack.
As the dust cleared, a red-haired figure walked out unhurriedly.
Sasori of the Red Sand.
As expected, he had suffered no real damage.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed completely—no longer that artificial, hoarse distortion, but his natural tone.
"Konoha ninja… you did well. You actually destroyed Hiruko."
"However—"
"That hair color of yours… is really irritating."
Sasori stopped in front of Hagoromo. He first glanced at the shattered remains of Hiruko on the ground, then turned his gaze back.
As for those words—
They were pure displaced anger.
Sasori hated people with white hair. The reason was simple: years ago, a man with white hair had killed his parents on the battlefield.
That was a debt left behind by Konoha's White Fang.
And now, it seemed Hagoromo was being forced to shoulder it.
Hagoromo stared at Sasori without speaking.
And although it may disappoint some readers, it must be said:
At this point in time, Sasori looked to be in his early twenties—and had not yet fully converted himself into a human puppet.
Which meant—
Five years ago, he really was a kid.
Now?
He definitely wasn't anymore.
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