There was a long-standing question in the shinobi world:
How do you effectively defend against Lightning Release?
According to chakra nature interaction theory, Wind Release counters Lightning Release—but countering was not the same thing as defending.
Earth Release, with its reputation for solid defense?
No good. Lightning pierced earth like a spear, often punching straight through it.
Water Release?
Even worse. Water-style shinobi were notoriously disadvantaged against Lightning Release users.
Fire Release?
Fire rarely had true defensive techniques; it relied on offense to suppress offense.
So what was the best way to defend against Lightning Release?
The answer was still Lightning Release.
Lightning was best countered by lightning—but only if both were of comparable intensity. Otherwise, it simply became one side overwhelming the other.
That said, the "Lightning Release" Hagoromo used was actually a deceptive outward appearance.
At its core, it wasn't chakra-transformed lightning at all—
It was pure electrical current.
Which meant it didn't truly obey Lightning Release rules.
Even with an informational advantage, this didn't mean Hagoromo would have an easy time against Killer B.
In fact, the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki was absurdly troublesome.
To summarize Killer B in one sentence:
He, too, had become a jōnin at the age of twelve.
Now he balanced on one leg, swords clamped in his hands, mouth, elbows, armpits, waist, and knees—bristling like a human hedgehog.
And this clearly wasn't showmanship.
This was Killer B's unique kenjutsu.
According to intelligence, it was blindingly fast and lethally destructive. Even the Uchiha's Sharingan struggled to track his movements—and even if the eyes could keep up, the body couldn't.
At this moment, Hagoromo sincerely wished his luck had rolled better.
If only he'd gotten the Rumble-Rumble Fruit instead of being an "electricity user."
Mikoto could boost him to a billion volts without effort; Enel barely reached a fifth of that—but Enel could become lightning itself.
Elementalization was broken.
Compared to that, A was light itself.
Hagoromo, at best, was a flashlight.
Fragile. Handle with care.
To counter Hagoromo's lightning, all seven of Killer B's chakra blades lit up at once, glowing brilliantly—like a repairman surrounded by fluorescent tubes.
Hagoromo's speed and Killer B's speed were not the same kind of speed.
So rather than forcing an exchange he knew favored the other side, Hagoromo didn't rush in.
Killer B struck first.
His body relaxed for a split second—
Then every muscle snapped tight.
Seven blades spun like a hurricane.
Uncomfortable as it was to say—
This man was dancing.
A dance of death.
Too fast.
Killer B's swordsmanship exceeded the speed of sound. His Lightning Release chakra blades were themselves high-frequency vibrating weapons.
But just as Hagoromo had no intention of engaging in close-quarters blade combat—
Killer B really shouldn't have tried to compete in vibration.
Honestly.
He couldn't out-vibrate him.
Unfortunately, no one had warned him.
As Killer B attacked, Hagoromo moved—but instead of advancing, he retreated, rapidly widening the distance.
He held an iron-sand sword.
But that didn't mean he only had one weapon.
Eight iron-sand whips burst from behind him at electromagnetic acceleration, lashing straight toward Killer B.
At this point, it was hard to tell who was the real octopus.
These attacks had nothing to do with chakra.
The high-frequency vibration of the iron sand produced an even more piercing hum—black, chainsaw-like, delivering purely physical destruction.
This was the pinnacle of physical offense.
An attack that could not be blocked—
Only dodged.
Anyone could tell at a glance: touching it meant death.
Even a jinchūriki.
Even a tailed beast.
Killer B wasn't an idiot.
He didn't charge head-on.
His spinning body threaded through the gaps between the iron-sand whips with impossible agility, still closing in.
They were called whips for a reason.
If they were straight, they'd just be eight forty-meter blades.
Instead, they moved like living serpents.
Killer B was now within their encirclement.
Hagoromo shifted his control, causing the whips to move in chaotic, wave-like patterns.
Dense. Irregular. Relentless.
There was no way Killer B could avoid injury entirely—especially as his space to maneuver shrank.
Blood sprayed.
This was a disastrous opening.
A had warned him not to mess this up—
And he messed it up immediately.
So—
A moved.
In nearly the same instant, a lightning-cloaked fist carrying overwhelming force appeared before Minato's face.
The distance was perhaps 0.01 centimeters.
But even an "instant" was still time.
And in that time—
Minato vanished.
This was the jutsu that defined the Yellow Flash.
The space–time ninjutsu unrivaled in the shinobi world:
Flying Thunder God Technique.
It ignored reaction time entirely.
This wasn't speed.
It was law.
Minato disappeared from A's sight—
Reappeared at a Flying Thunder God marker embedded in a tree—
Then instantly reappeared behind A, at the location of a suspended Flying Thunder God kunai.
To A, time itself seemed frozen.
Minato grasped the kunai with his left hand.
A brilliant blue Rasengan formed in his right.
The kunai thrust toward A's neck.
The Rasengan slammed into his back.
Despite earlier warnings not to go for the kill—
This was unmistakably a double fatal strike.
Killer B was also in crisis—
But he still had to save his brother.
Massive octopus tentacles erupted from behind him, surging toward A to knock him clear.
But—
This was two versus two.
An iron-sand whip pierced straight through an Eight-Tails tentacle.
Hagoromo's right hand thrust forward—
The iron-sand sword extended explosively, lengthening into a forty-meter blade.
This wasn't an iron-sand sword anymore.
It was a final crescent strike.
What happened when a high-frequency particle blade cut flesh?
Hagoromo raised his hand—
And the Eight-Tails' tentacle was severed cleanly at the root.
At the same moment—
BOOM.
A's lightning-wrapped body was driven straight into the ground by Minato.
Killer B reached Hagoromo.
He understood clearly—
If he didn't deal with this man now, he'd never have time to worry about his brother.
He was drenched in blood, but his reactions were still intact.
Seven Lightning Release, supersonic vibrating blades descended like the scythe of death.
But high-level shinobi battles often came down to one thing:
Information.
And the higher the level, the more decisive it became.
An iron-sand shield snapped into place before Hagoromo.
Six blades struck it in succession—
And shattered one after another.
Because Hagoromo was forcing the shield itself into high-frequency vibration.
Breaking through was impossible.
And yet—
The final blade pierced through.
In that moment, Hagoromo's eyes—whose expression no one could read—flickered.
The iron-sand shield lost all defensive power.
He had chosen not to resist.
A conscious, deliberate cessation of defense.
Completely incomprehensible.
Suicide?
Self-destruction?
Out of chakra?
The blade pierced his chest.
The force hurled him backward, impaled on the sword, smashing him into a tree.
Blood poured from his chest.
Blood spilled from his mouth.
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