Speed, power, and impact.
If you had to categorize Taijutsu into Hard or Soft styles, Hagoromo's was undeniably the former. Unlike the Soft Style, which is filled with fluid, whip-like movements and grace, Hard Style is blunt and violent. Its singular goal is "crushing your skull."
Fast, precise, and ruthless—that was the most accurate description of Hagoromo's opening strike.
In reality, Hagoromo wasn't a natural "power-type" ninja. He hadn't spent years pushing his body through the kind of bone-breaking, extreme physical conditioning that someone like Might Guy endured. If he tried to fight exactly like Guy, his raw physical output would fall short.
The reason he could kill with one hit was simple: Hagoromo used Nintaijutsu.
By fusing Lightning Style with Taijutsu, he could force his body's cells into a state of hyper-activity, boosting his explosive power and physical reinforcement. Where his natural strength lacked, the lightning compensated.
Clad in pitch-black gear, moving in a straight, high-speed blur, Hagoromo cut through the rain like an ink stroke across a canvas. Staying low, his rapid footsteps left only shallow imprints and crackling sparks of electricity on the muddy ground.
The sheer momentum of his movement had blown his hood back, allowing the rain to soak his silver hair, which was currently bristling with static.
As the Chidori Current faded, Hagoromo stood still.
There were three enemies in total. Aside from the one already neutralized, the remaining two were perched on a massive tree branch, looking down at him. They wore straw conical hats that masked their faces.
One of them was a high-level combatant. Hagoromo knew this because the man had actually managed to dodge his follow-up attack.
After incapacitating the first enemy, Hagoromo had surged forward with his Chidori Current active, intending to end the second one in the same breath. To his surprise, the target had evaded the strike with ease and leaped back to reset the distance, clearly having no desire to engage him in a close-quarters brawl just yet.
He's fast, Hagoromo noted.
"Leaf ninja... not bad. You killed one of my men in a heartbeat," the enemy spoke. Even the rolling thunder in the distance couldn't drown out his voice—it was peculiar, rasping like he had two rolls of sandpaper hidden in his throat.
The words sounded like praise—and genuine praise at that. There was no trace of anger, as if the man he'd just lost was a complete stranger.
It made sense. In a world of constant war, many ninjas lose the concept of "comrade." The more cold-blooded you were, the more likely you were to survive.
Though his face was hidden, his build suggested a man in his thirties. The other remaining enemy was unmasked and looked much younger. Based on the status of the first one killed, it was clear the masked man was the primary threat.
The enemy didn't care about his fallen subordinate, and Hagoromo was equally unfazed.
Soon, Asuma and the others closed in behind Hagoromo. Asuma whispered urgently, "They're from the Fuma clan."
Hagoromo's brow furrowed behind his mask. He had assumed they were Hidden Rain shinobi; he hadn't expected the Fuma. Still, he trusted Asuma's judgment—when it came to identifying clans and lineages, someone with Asuma's upbringing was miles ahead of Hagoromo.
"Fuma ninjas? Why attack us? The Hidden Leaf isn't at war with your clan," Hagoromo said, buying time with useless chatter.
Once an attack begins, it usually only ends when one side is dead. Hagoromo's "Talk-no-Jutsu" skills were non-existent, so he wasn't expecting a peaceful resolution. He was merely using the conversation as a front, using a hand hidden behind his back to rapidly signal orders to his three teammates.
Doing two things at once was child's play for him.
His gut told him the masked man was the real deal, while the other was significantly weaker. Even if the unmasked one was better than the guy currently face-down in the mud, he wasn't a top-tier threat.
Hagoromo's command was simple: Asuma, Kurenai, and Aoba would handle the weaker one, while he took the masked leader.
"Heh... does a ninja need a reason to kill another ninja?"
The raspy, suppressed voice drifted down again. It sounded as if the attack had been nothing more than a whim.
But Hagoromo wasn't buying it.
"Mercenaries? Since you lost your village, I suppose that's the only reason you'd stick your noses into a World War."
The Fuma clan had lost their home in the wars long ago. They weren't accepted by other villages, so they intervened in conflicts for the only thing that mattered: bounty money. Since they were here helping the Rain against the Leaf, it meant the Hidden Rain had placed a price on Leaf headbands.
Of course, that didn't mean they were loyal to the Rain. They were mad dogs who would bite anyone. If they found a few Rain ninjas alone, they wouldn't hesitate to kill them too and cash in elsewhere.
"Mercenaries... you can look at it that way. But in truth, I just enjoy the slaughter," the masked man said, neither confirming nor denying.
He seemed ready to say more, but the younger subordinate beside him leaned in and whispered something in his ear, pointing toward Hagoromo's squad.
"Heh... I didn't realize there was a celebrity among you brats."
"The White Yaksha of the Leaf?"
Hagoromo: "..."
What the hell?!
Since when am I famous? And even if I am, I haven't shown anything identifying yet! They can't possibly have ID'd me just by my hair color and fighting style, right?
White-haired ninjas weren't exactly a rarity. It was impossible to call him out just on that.
But white hair... plus a young Leaf ninja... plus seal-less Lightning Style?
That was the kicker. Hagoromo hadn't fully appreciated how rare instant, seal-less Lightning Style was. To an experienced hunter, it was a flashing neon sign.