Chapter 42 (Patreon)

“No way… That has to be a trick, right?!”

“That was incredible! He reacted even with his eyes covered! That silver-haired guy is seriously strong!”

“Wait… silver hair and red eyes. I remember him now. He was the top student in my daughter’s Academy class.”

The silence lasted only a moment before the stadium erupted again.

For most of the spectators, nothing was more exciting than seeing such an overwhelming display of skill.

The shinobi watching the match, however, focused on very different things.

Genma stared at Mihawk’s pale hand, his eyes narrowing slightly.

What was that black coating?

Inside the VIP box, Orochimaru—still disguised as the Fourth Kazekage—spoke with open interest.

“What impressive senses. Covering his eyes doesn’t seem to affect him at all.”

His gaze remained fixed on Mihawk.

“If I’m not mistaken, he’s sensing everything around him without relying on sight. Could it be some unusual kekkei genkai?”

“No,” Hiruzen replied, shaking his head. “He was born into a civilian family. He possesses no known kekkei genkai.”

“Then that makes it even more impressive,” the disguised Orochimaru said.

Unlike most of the spectators, Orochimaru had already seen Mihawk’s sword-drawing technique.

He knew the boy had yet to show anything close to his full strength.

Hanabi looked up at Hiashi, surprise covering her young face.

“Father…”

“Keep watching,” Hiashi said.

His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes never left Mihawk.

“Impossible!”

Neji slowly pushed himself back to his feet.

A clear footprint marked his face. His earlier confidence had vanished, replaced by shock and disbelief.

“The difference between us can’t be this great!”

“Why can’t it?”

Mihawk continued turning the paper umbrella casually in his hand. Even with the black cloth covering his eyes, it felt as though his gaze was fixed directly on Neji.

“You should feel honored. I rarely take an opponent seriously.”

Genma’s mouth twitched.

Nothing about your attitude looks serious.

“Damn you!”

Neji’s face flushed with anger.

He reached into his ninja pouch with both hands, pulled out several shuriken, and threw them at Mihawk.

“What happened?” Mihawk asked mockingly. “You’re supposed to be a genius of the Hyūga clan. Shouldn’t you be trying to fight me up close?”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Or are you afraid?”

Mihawk lightly swept the paper umbrella through the air.

Swish!

A red blur flashed.

Every shuriken was knocked aside and split in half.

The sharp steel blades had struck an ordinary-looking paper umbrella, yet the umbrella did not have so much as a scratch.

Genma’s pupils tightened again.

I see.

That black coating strengthens both his body and anything he touches.

“Gentle Fist Art: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!”

Neji’s voice suddenly came from directly in front of Mihawk.

While Mihawk had been knocking down the shuriken, Neji had closed the distance between them.

Within the darkness behind Mihawk’s blindfold, the outline of an Eight Trigrams formation appeared through his Observation Haki.

“Two Palms!”

Neji’s fingers cut through the air toward Mihawk’s tenketsu.

Smack!

Unfortunately for him, Mihawk was far too familiar with the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms.

He had watched Hinata practice it for years.

Before Neji’s fingertips could reach him, Mihawk raised his left hand, still covered in Armament Haki, and struck the back of his wrist.

The force knocked Neji’s palm completely off course.

“Four Palms!”

Pain shot through Neji’s wrist, but he refused to stop.

His other hand shot forward.

Thud!

Before it could land, Mihawk’s knee drove into his stomach.

Neji’s eyes widened.

His mouth opened as the air was forced from his lungs, and saliva spilled from the corner of his lips.

His body folded forward before dropping to both knees.

Neji clutched his stomach with both hands as the pain caused his entire body to shake.

Mihawk had moved too quickly.

Neji had not even been given enough time to use the Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven.

Mihawk had not been lying.

He had finally started taking the match slightly more seriously.

Even without drawing his sword, Observation Haki and Armament Haki alone placed him far beyond anyone his age.

Rock Lee posed no threat to him, even with the Eight Gates.

Gaara was no different.

If Mihawk truly wanted to end either fight, a single strike would be enough.

The reason he had stopped playing around with Neji was simple.

He wanted to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

Mihawk had chosen not to draw his sword because even the smallest mistake might cut Neji apart.

He disliked Neji’s attitude, but Neji was still Hinata’s cousin and Hiashi’s nephew.

Mihawk intended to marry Hinata someday. He had no reason to completely ruin his relationship with the Hyūga clan.

Besides, Neji was not cruel by nature.

His hatred came from the death of his father, Hizashi Hyūga, and the resentment that had grown inside him ever since.

Mihawk understood the reason behind Neji’s anger, but he had no interest in talking him through it.

He was not Naruto.

He had never been good at defeating people with speeches.

“Cough…”

After some time, the pain finally eased enough for Neji to stand.

When he looked at Mihawk again, his anger and confidence were gone.

There was still unwillingness in his eyes, but his will to fight had almost disappeared.

“A complete defeat…”

Neji lowered his gaze.

“Was this my fate all along?”

Mihawk removed the black cloth from his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied. “Anyone who fights me will meet the same fate.”

“So fate really is decided from the beginning…”

Neji gave a bitter laugh.

“Don’t misunderstand me.”

Mihawk’s red eyes rested on him.

“Your fate wasn’t decided before you were born.”

Neji looked at him in confusion.

“You lost because I’m far stronger than you.”

Neji fell silent.

Mihawk suddenly asked:

“Do you want to see how wide the difference between us really is?”

“What?”

Under Neji’s puzzled gaze, Mihawk folded the paper umbrella and secured it behind his back.

His right hand settled on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

Mihawk looked past Neji and fixed his gaze on the tall wall at the far end of the arena.

“Stay alert.”

His voice turned cold.

“Move the moment you feel it coming.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Don’t die.”

Swish!

The warning had barely left his mouth when a brilliant flash tore through the arena like lightning splitting a storm cloud.

Boom!

A dark-red Ranged Slash, nearly eighteen meters tall, surged forward like a towering wave.

It filled the vision of both Neji and Genma as it roared toward them with suffocating force.