The steam expanded across the forest clearing almost instantly. Its density was so immense that even the torrential rain struggled to penetrate the white veil.
In a heartbeat, the world turned into a featureless white void. Relying on sight alone, Hagoromo had no way of confirming the enemy's location. However, based on his specialized mid-range sensory ability, he could clearly perceive the man's presence.
Without a moment's hesitation, he plunged into the fog!
This state of mutual blindness, though unintentional, offered him a distinct advantage. Hagoromo's assault became even more relentless.
His silhouette vanished into the mist. From above, one could only see flickering bursts of scattered lightning and the periodic flare of Water and Fire Style clashing. Occasionally, a deflected shuriken or projectile would spin wildly out of the fog in a random trajectory.
The only other indicators were the sounds—the crackle of electricity, the roar of flames, the surge of water, and the sharp, rhythmic clank of steel on steel.
After several minutes of intense exchange, Hagoromo retreated from the mist. Without the continuous output of Fire Style to sustain the temperature, the steam quickly began to dissipate.
During that brief skirmish, Hagoromo had held a slight upper hand thanks to his sensory advantage. He was uninjured, but in truth, he hadn't managed to land the decisive blow he'd hoped for.
"Your Lightning Style is undeniably powerful, but its weakness is just as obvious," the masked ninja rasped. He scanned the battlefield, where stray sparks of lightning still danced in the mud. "Maintaining that level of output is a massive drain on your chakra. Simply put, your jutsu is a terrible choice for a war of attrition."
The man's voice remained calm and steady. Hagoromo had only managed to inflict a few superficial grazes; there was no major trauma, and hardly any bleeding.
The enemy's assessment was correct. The Chidori Current surrounding Hagoromo had dimmed significantly, and by the end of that last exchange, his speed was noticeably slower than it had been at the start.
"I never intended for this to be a war of attrition," Hagoromo replied, his voice laced with the heavy, ragged breathing of someone nearing their limit. "I'll settle this before my chakra runs out."
To any observer, it sounded like a desperate bluff from a ninja on the verge of exhaustion.
"And how long do you think you can last? Two minutes? One? Thirty seconds?"
The enemy seemed to lose interest in talking to a fading opponent. With those final words, he lunged. He charged forward, and as he reached Hagoromo, he planted his left foot as a pivot and swung his right leg with full force. A spinning kick, carrying a literal gale of pressure, whistled toward Hagoromo's neck!
Hagoromo crossed his arms in front of his chest, channeling his remaining lightning into his forearms! This wasn't to paralyze the enemy—it was pure defense. He had noticed early on that this man possessed a certain level of resistance to lightning; otherwise, the rain-weakened Chidori Current would have had some effect.
The impact of the kick wasn't as heavy as Hagoromo expected.
Dammit, he thought.
The original trajectory was right-to-left, but the force Hagoromo felt was front-to-back. At the moment of impact, the enemy had sacrificed raw power to forcibly redirect the strike.
It was too late. Hagoromo was sent flying into the air.
Forcing his gaze around, he saw what he feared: another enemy was waiting at his landing spot. To be precise, it was a Water Clone. The seals were already finished.
Water Style: Water Flow Whip!
Mid-air, Hagoromo was bound tight. He managed to correct his posture just enough to land on his feet, but he was pinned.
"A Water Clone... you set this up the moment we reached this clearing. When you 'dropped' those shuriken earlier, you used a combination of Clone and Transformation Jutsus, didn't you?"
Despite being bound, Hagoromo showed no sign of panic. He remained unnervingly calm. He had already deduced the clone's origin. His sensory ability didn't track chakra signatures, but biological life—he couldn't "see" clones made of pure energy until they interacted with the world.
The enemy didn't bother confirming. He was more surprised by Hagoromo's composure. "You don't seem to fear death?"
"It's not that I don't fear death. It's that I'm not going to die. Why fear something that isn't happening? You didn't really think a trick like this could hold me, did you?"
"Is that so? Because I think this is where it ends for you!!"
The masked man's voice shifted from its usual rasp to a cold, murderous hiss. While the Water Clone maintained the whip, the leader decided to finish this personally. A white mask stained red would be a poetic sight.
The leader hooked his toe under one of the giant shuriken on the ground, flipping it into the air. He caught it by the center ring and, with a flick of his wrist, sent the massive blade spinning with a lethal hum.
Hagoromo continued to speak at a leisurely pace. "Let me tell you something: as long as a ninja's hands are free to weave seals, they aren't truly caught."
At the moment he was bound in mid-air, the only movement he'd prioritized was bringing his hands together. As he finished his sentence, the enemy was upon him, the spinning shuriken inches from his chest. At that size, it would punch a hole straight through him.
But Hagoromo's seals were already done.
"Boar, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram!"
It was a simple sequence—the universal formula for summoning. But he wasn't calling a bird, a dog, or a slug. He was using a specific tool-summoning technique he had scavenged from the Scroll of Seals: a legacy of the First Hokage.
Ninja Art: Summoning - Rashomon!