"I'll ask just for the sake of it: the Byakugan... did you get it?"
Hagoromo's left arm was extended straight, his right arm looped over it as he twisted his waist to stretch. He looked like an athlete warming up for a match as he directed his question toward Yagura.
"We have it," Yagura replied. "Though it's an unfortunate outcome for you, I can tell you the truth: the shinobi carrying the Byakugan has likely already returned to Kirigakure by now."
Yagura wasn't sharing this out of the kindness of his heart; rather, there was no longer any reason to hide it. The Byakugan reaching the Mist meant their mission was a success. What could Konoha do? Charge into the heart of Kirigakure to take it back? If they tried, the Mist shinobi would give them a very "warm" welcome.
Furthermore, in Yagura's eyes, Hagoromo was already a dead man. There was no harm in indulging the trivial final wishes of a corpse.
Yagura surely didn't realize that this line of thinking was a massive death flag—and by planting it, he had practically guaranteed that Hagoromo wouldn't be dying today.
Still, it answered Hagoromo's question. The success of the mission explained the signal and the collective withdrawal of the Mist forces.
"Can we negotiate?" Hagoromo asked with feigned innocence. "Since no one has started swinging yet, how about we each just go home? We don't have a personal grudge. You've got what you wanted, our mission has failed, and personally, I don't see any reason to keep fighting."
Does that sound familiar? Well, he had said something similar to Roshi right before he beat the man back into his original form.
However, his current demeanor made it impossible for Yagura to imagine that this person had recently killed one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. In fact, Yagura didn't know that specific detail. He knew Juzo Biwa was dead, but the how and who remained a mystery. Even if Mei and Zabuza had shared their suspicions, there was no way to confirm them.
"You are a shinobi of Konoha, and I belong to the Mist," Yagura responded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What you're suggesting is clearly impossible, isn't it?"
"I figured as much," Hagoromo replied, his voice dripping with disappointment.
"Are you finished with your preparations?" Yagura asked. It turned out he had only stayed his hand to watch Hagoromo finish his awkward "warm-up gymnastics."
"Wait!"
"I have one last personal question... Your Excellency has quite the baby-face, so if I may be so bold: how old are you? Otherwise, when we start fighting, I'll feel like I'm just bullying a child."
One has to admit: whether intentional or not, Hagoromo was exceptionally skilled at provoking his enemies.
Yagura's response to the question was his staff—the hooked, flower-adorned weapon.
Hagoromo, of course, was well-prepared for this "sudden" assault. He had a fair estimate of what his words would achieve. A shinobi carrying a unique weapon like that was almost certainly a specialist in unique Taijutsu.
Choosing defense first, Hagoromo's body crackled with lightning as iron sand flowed according to his will, coating his skin... just before the hooked staff struck with the force of a gale.
Yagura's first strike aimed for Hagoromo's ribs!
Hagoromo parried with his right arm, which was encased in iron sand. However, he clearly underestimated the raw power behind the swing. While he blocked the strike, the sheer force sent his arm flying upward.
Failing to connect with the first blow, Yagura spun his weapon, using the other hooked end to sweep toward Hagoromo's neck from the side.
Unfortunately for Yagura, Hagoromo prioritized defending his vitals. He piled layer upon layer of iron sand; even as the vibration made Yagura's palms go numb, he couldn't break through the defense.
However, the two were now in extremely close quarters. Though Yagura held his weapon with both hands, his feet were free. Following the principle of "put all limbs to work," he delivered a sharp kick to Hagoromo's abdomen.
At this moment, Hagoromo appeared to be in a state of "helpless victim." Had he awakened some hidden masochistic soul?
Hardly. If forced to choose between 'S' and 'M', Hagoromo would always pick 'S'. If his hand slipped during the selection, he'd end up as a 'Sadist'.
Though he seemed to be taking a beating, Hagoromo's defenses were perfect. In reality, these attacks hadn't inflicted a single scratch.
His moves are incredibly fast. His offensive is fierce, constantly aiming for lethal vitals. Baby-face, short arms, short legs—but the strength is surprisingly immense.
From this brief exchange, Hagoromo gathered his data. While average shinobi use clones to scout an unfamiliar enemy, Hagoromo went in person. The baby-faced man was indeed strong; that last kick had sent Hagoromo tumbling across the water's surface several times.
Yagura didn't pursue. He was equally astonished by Hagoromo's defensive method and its effectiveness. It was clear his staff strikes had done no substantial damage.
"Now, it's my turn."
Hagoromo stood up from the sea as if nothing had happened and charged toward Yagura!
In response, Yagura shaped the water before him into a circular mirror that appeared out of thin air. He hooked the upper rim of the mirror with one end of his staff.
Hagoromo watched as another "Hagoromo" emerged from the mirror.
What the hell is this?
This was Water Style: Water Mirror Jutsu!
The copy of Hagoromo was even wreathed in the same Chidori Current—it was a perfect duplicate.
However, such a mimicry was useless against the original.
Iron sand erupted from behind Hagoromo, black as night. Arrows vibrating at high frequencies launched with unstoppable momentum. Without changing his expression, Hagoromo instantly shredded the imitation into foam!
But because of that brief distraction, Yagura's next attack was already there!
The hooked staff again!
Hagoromo reached out with his right hand to parry!
But this time, his arm wasn't knocked away. His lightning-wreathed palm gripped the enemy's weapon firmly.
Then, as if releasing every limiter on his body, a massive explosion of lightning bloomed across the sea. The higher the power, the harder it is to control—or perhaps, Hagoromo simply felt control was no longer necessary. He was violent and unrestrained, lightning snaking wildly across the water.
Then Hagoromo spoke again.
He said:
"Hey, kid... Uncle's got you!"