Chapter 70: Battle of the Waves

“Sensei!” Yuzuki Yugao immediately rushed to Maruboshi Kosuke’s side, her hands glowing blue with medical ninjutsu as she began to heal his wounds.

“I’m fine… just old. If I can’t use ninjutsu, I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to you.” Maruboshi Kosuke braced his aching back, struggling to stand but failing each time. After three great ninja wars and decades of battle, his body was riddled with hidden injuries.

“Yugao, tend to Sensei first. This time, it’s my turn!” Hayate Gekkou drew his sword and approached Shiramoku.

“Well, Hayate, your dark circles have gotten even darker…” Shiramoku quipped. He remembered that the first time he’d met Hayate, there had only been a faint shadow under his eyes.

“I’m grateful for your help—twice, in fact. But Shiramoku, from this moment on… our bond is severed.” Hayate pulled a well-thumbed, dog-eared copy of “Make-Out Paradise” from his ninja pouch and tossed it into the air, slicing it to confetti with a single stroke. The fluttering scraps symbolized the utter dissolution of their friendship.

“Not bad. That’s the spirit. Too bad the short rib-knife you gave me—I threw that away long ago.” Shiramoku shrugged indifferently. He didn’t mind exchanging a few more words while waiting for his Counterstorm’s cooldown to finish.

“…Then let’s end this.” Hayate surged forward with his blade, and as he neared Shiramoku, his figure suddenly vanished.

“Invisibility again? Too bad it’s useless against me.” Shiramoku smiled faintly, showing not a trace of alarm. Instead, he bent down and picked a little flower.

“Scan Lens, activate!”

A red wave of light rippled out from the crystal in his hand, instantly enveloping a ten-meter radius. Hayate’s cautious approach was betrayed by a red phantom in the light, his position completely exposed.

“I see you.”

Hayate froze in place, stunned to realize how easily he’d been discovered.

“Phew!” Like a mischievous child, Shiramoku blew the flower’s petals and pollen into Hayate’s face.

“Cough, cough…” Even as Hayate leapt back, he couldn’t help inhaling a bit of the pollen. With his tuberculosis, he couldn’t tolerate even a trace of irritant.

“With your condition, I doubt you’ll survive to see your own legend.” Shiramoku chuckled.

“Even if I die, I’ll take you down!” Hayate, pausing only to catch his breath, charged again. With a burst of white smoke, two shadow clones popped into existence. He was going all out.

“Another Crescent Moon Dance? It is a troublesome move.” Shiramoku glanced at his still-cooling Counterstorm. He’d have to rely on his own skill now.

“Leaf Style: Crescent Moon Dance!” Three identical Hayates attacked from three directions, their wind-chakra-infused blades striking with deadly force.

“A three-way gamble? How about I buy them all?” Shiramoku swung his chain-blade, creating a whirling iron dragon that blocked all three attackers.

“My own move—Mom, name it for me!” ‘Iron Chain Across the River’ sounded too pedestrian, and Shiramoku had never been good at naming techniques. He left it to Ah Fei.

“Call it: ‘Long Worm Chases Off the Dodo!’” Ah Fei loved naming things.

“Great name!”

Hayate didn’t relent; two clones slashed upward at the chain, giving the third an opening to attack.

“So this is the real one?” Shiramoku whipped the chain again. Like a living dragon, it darted and twisted, tail lashing out in a ‘dragon’s tail sweep’ that struck Hayate in the chest.

“Tiger’s Tail Swats the Fly!” Ah Fei was getting carried away.

Poof! Hayate’s body exploded in a puff of smoke—a clone!

“Again!” Shiramoku’s iron dragon whirled once more, cleaving through two more figures.

“Iron Blade Smacks the Butt!” Poof, poof—more clones.

“Shiramoku, you let your guard down… Who said transparency can’t be used consecutively…” Hayate’s form materialized behind Shiramoku, face pale as paper, his blade piercing through Shiramoku’s abdomen from behind.

All three attacks of the Crescent Moon Dance had been clones. The real body, hidden by the smoke, had used his invisibility again to sneak up for a decisive blow. This combination consumed all his strength and chakra.

“Sorry… my friend.” Hayate pressed his forehead to Shiramoku’s back, slowly twisting the blade.

“So moving… I’m so touched I almost don’t want to kill you…” Shiramoku stepped out of a nearby patch of grass, theatrically dabbing at his eyes.

“What!” Hayate looked up in shock at the “Shiramoku” before him.

But it wasn’t a person—it was a straw man with a grotesque, horrified face!

Boom! Dozens of black crows exploded from the straw figure, flapping into Hayate’s face. He staggered back, exhausted and out of chakra, collapsing to the ground.

“Straw Substitute Technique.”

Shiramoku had set it up in the grass well in advance. When he saw all three Hayates were clones, he immediately swapped himself with the substitute.

“…I’ve lost.” The ‘Three-Second Swordsman’ leaned on his sword, head bowed, unable to continue.

…

“So… let’s see who’s last.” Shiramoku tilted his head toward Yugao, the only one left—a girl with the least combat ability. He felt no pressure at all; maybe he was due a little showmanship.

“Be careful… If you’re not confident, retreat and report back.” Maruboshi Kosuke warned.

“Don’t worry, Sensei. No matter what, I will defeat him.” Yugao stood, sword in hand.

“Tsk, tsk, you still don’t understand. Just wanting to beat me isn’t enough. Like I said—when there’s a man in your heart, your sword is slow.” Shiramoku wagged a finger.

“Gross. I have just as much will to win—take this! Leaf Style: Veiled Moon Night!” Yugao’s cheeks flushed, certain she’d misunderstood him, but she charged with a shout, sword at the ready.

Veiled Moon Night—a sword technique laced with genjutsu, its countless afterimages forming a phantom full moon, impossible to distinguish real from illusion.

“Is that so? Then come—let me feel your resolve.” Shiramoku tilted his head back forty-five degrees, arms open as if embracing a lover, a smile on his lips, making no motion to resist.

“What are you—!” Yugao’s blade halted at Shiramoku’s left chest, needing only a fraction more force to pierce his heart.

But she couldn’t bring herself to strike.

Shiramoku gripped the blade, letting his blood run down its length as he leaned closer.

“I told you—no matter how fast your sword, without the resolve to kill, you’ll never be strong.” He gently lifted Yugao’s trembling chin with his fingers.

“Didn’t you want to see my true face?”

“Then let me show you…”

With a single motion, Shiramoku tore off his own scalp. A wave of black terror burst from beneath his skin, accompanied by a cacophony of cawing crows that dyed the sky a blood-red hue.

“I will devour your soul…”

“EX: The Coming of Terror.”

Suddenly, Yugao felt her mind invaded by a mass of black fear. She wanted only to flee, to escape this demon, but Shiramoku’s grip held her fast.

“Ding! Fiddlesticks is very pleased with your sacrifice of your own bonds.”

“Skill acquired: Soul Drain.”

(The new version calls it ‘Bountiful Harvest,’ but I think the old name is more vivid—after all, not all my readers play LoL.)

“Create a spirit chain close to the target’s face. Guide soul drain along the chain, first absorbing the opponent’s chakra to heal your own wounds. Once their chakra is exhausted, begin devouring their soul.”

“…What the…” Shiramoku scratched his head. He was happy with the free skill, but why did it sound so lewd?

“Sleep now, peacefully…” Shiramoku pressed close to Yugao, activating Soul Drain. A blue spirit chain connected their mouths, and with each breath, Yugao’s chakra was drawn away, her soul starting to shudder. Her limbs grew weaker by the second, and within a minute she collapsed into Shiramoku’s arms.

“Bastard! Let go of Yugao! Cough, cough…” Hayate roared in fury, blood spurting from his mouth as he lost consciousness.

“Huh? Did he misunderstand something? I didn’t even touch her—we were a full centimeter apart.” Shiramoku scratched his head, gently laying the chakra-drained Yugao on the ground and covering Hayate with his green vest.

“Kid, do you like that girl? Why don’t we… Mom’s getting so impatient.” Ah Fei was never a patient Zetsu, and after months of waiting, he’d had enough.

“There’s no need for women on the path to kingship—feelings only create cracks in my resolve.” Shiramoku glanced at Yugao, his voice cold. “Especially weak and indecisive women like her.”

Tears welled in Yugao’s eyes.

“What about Hayate, then? He was decisive enough when he stabbed you…” Ah Fei pointed out.

“?? Mom, Hayate’s a guy.” Shiramoku wondered if Zetsu had no concept of gender.

“I just want grandchildren. Gender doesn’t matter to me.” Ah Fei was surprisingly open-minded.

“Well, it matters to me!” Shiramoku roared.