For Hatake Kakashi, chakra was like a well that never filled. He was always half-depleted. Yet in every fight, no matter how much chakra he had left, he still insisted on pulling out Earth-Style: Earth Wall—always with that ridiculous dog-face carving on it, as if taunting his opponent.
It was excessive. Truly excessive.
Who else would decorate their Earth Wall with a dog's head?!
Meanwhile, Moonlight Hayate had joined the fray. Skilled in kenjutsu and proficient with Body Flicker and Clone Jutsu, he embodied the Konoha-ryū style of swordsmanship. In fact, one of its techniques required the use of a shadow clone to execute properly.
Sword light shimmered like the crescent moon. From below, his blade flashed upward, deflecting Godzilla's incoming claws. Then, with a clone by his side, two figures attacked together—one above, one below.
"Konoha-ryū Kenjutsu! Twin Moon Execution!"
Kenjutsu was all about the killing blow. It required speed of hand and eye beyond ordinary men.
The finest example was the previous head of the Hatake clan, the legendary White Fang of Konoha—Kakashi's father. His mastery of the blade was so fearsome that even the Kage of other villages declared publicly: if you encounter the White Fang, you are permitted to abandon your mission without punishment.
Hayate was not at that level, but his skill still ranked high in Konoha. His sword light pressed forward with speed and precision—one slash angled at Godzilla's thick neck, the other, from the clone, aimed embarrassingly at the beast's lower body.
Godzilla let out a defiant roar. Instead of dodging, he opened his maw and unleashed a shockwave blast. The clone was obliterated instantly.
Boom! Smoke burst into the air, the false body vanishing.
Hayate's true body, however, pressed on. His blade met Godzilla's massive neck—only to spark harmlessly across its armored hide.
Scrrrrk!
A spray of sparks showered the ground.
"What?!" Hayate's eyes went wide. "Impossible! My blade… can't cut him?!"
But the truth was undeniable. Godzilla's defenses were monstrous.
"ROOOAR!!"
One swipe of the beast's claws nearly took off Hayate's arm. Only by instinctively using the Body Flicker at the last possible instant did he escape with his limb intact.
Elsewhere—
Kakashi snapped back from thought and immediately hurled a flurry of kunai. He didn't care whether they struck; their real purpose was to buy time. Even as they flew, his hands blurred into seals.
Years of singlehood hand-speed training now shone. His seals were so fast they blurred into afterimages, nearly impossible for the naked eye to follow.
Aoyama narrowed his gaze. "Fire Release again?"
From the sequence of seals, that seemed likely.
Dodging the kunai was easy. The real threat was the jutsu that would follow.
After all, Kakashi was the famed Copy Ninja, who had memorized over a thousand jutsu. While many were impractical in battle, the sheer variety gave him endless options.
"The only way to win," Kakashi thought grimly, "is with ninjutsu. Aoyama opened the Third Gate. His chakra and physical power far outstrip mine. My only chance is in my techniques!"
"Just a little more… If I can finish these seals, my remaining chakra will be enough!"
"Damn—it's not ready yet!"
But in his Sharingan's reflection, Aoyama's fist was already descending.
Crack!
Aoyama's punch smashed into Kakashi's face, breaking the rhythm of his jutsu. The half-finished technique fizzled. All that preparation was wasted.
Kakashi flew back, hit the dirt, rolled, and immediately tried to rise—seals already forming again.
But again, Aoyama was there. Another heavy blow sent him flying.
Taijutsu at blinding speed—it was like fighting an assassin. Kakashi's "caster style" was being hard-countered.
Yet Kakashi was relentless. Knocked down again, he rose again, hands still flashing through seals. To him, ninjutsu was the only path to victory.
Aoyama's eyes glinted coldly. He closed in and kicked Kakashi square in the chest, sending him soaring skyward.
Up above, even as he tumbled, Kakashi's fingers kept moving, desperately weaving signs.
Aoyama sneered at the sight. "Pathetic. Is ninjutsu really all you've got?"
But then—
The ground below suddenly cracked open. Kakashi erupted from beneath, his hands poised in a bizarre stance.
Pain lanced through Aoyama's body. His face twisted.
The pain was… unique. Excruciating yet—indescribably overwhelming. His cheeks flushed red.
"Konoha's Secret Taijutsu—Ultimate Technique!!"
"One Thousand Years of Death!!"
The Kakashi flung skyward, vanished in smoke—just another clone. The real Kakashi had tunneled beneath, waiting for this humiliating strike.
Aoyama's eyes watered. He staggered, clutching his backside with one hand, unable even to hold his kunai with the other. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks.
It hurt. It hurt so much he thought he might die. Yet—gods help him—it left an aftershock that made it all the worse.
The other Konoha shinobi stared, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. None of them had imagined the stoic, masked Kakashi would use such a… depraved, underhanded technique.
And yet—none could deny its effectiveness. The Thousand Years of Death could humble even the mightiest, reducing them to helpless wrecks.
Aoyama glared, tear-streaked, his eyes burning with hatred.
"You bastard! All that sealing, over and over—it was just a distraction. In the end, you hid underground with a clone, waiting to land that damned jutsu. You really know how to play dirty!"
Kakashi was silent for a moment. Then he looked up, his visible eye filled with false innocence.
If I said it was an accident… would you believe me?