Hongo's hands became true phantoms, as though he had sprouted hundreds upon thousands of arms in an instant. Every afterimage moved with precision, flicking the incoming steel needles away with his fingertips, deflecting them with the edges of his palms, or brushing them aside with deft force. His movements reached the utmost speed and precision as he danced through the rain of needles, as though performing a dazzling surgery in a dance with death. Steel needles kept tearing away scraps of his gray coat, exposing the lean, powerful torso beneath, covered in old scars. His long hair whipped wildly in the surging air, and the scar on his left forehead looked particularly fierce.
Twenty-five seconds.
The rain of needles stopped.
Hongo stood where he was, panting slightly. Numerous fine, bloody cuts had appeared on his body-not from direct hits, but from the edges of deflected needles or the sharp Haki carried on them. Blood stained his lean chest and arms, and only a few strips of his always-clean coat remained hanging from him. Yet his eyes were still sharp and calm, and his hands remained steady as rock. Only his breathing had grown a little faster.
"A good area attack. Reminds me of some troublesome fellows in the New World." He wiped away the blood that kept seeping from the corner of his mouth and bared his gap-toothed grin, actually trying to put on that cheerful smile again, though the blood covering him made it look rather grim. "But it wasn't thorough enough. In a fight to the death, I'd use something a little more dangerous, but..."
He looked at his own wounds, then at Chopper a short distance away, whose aura remained violent but was clearly beginning to waver.
"Looks like we're both nearing our limits. Your Rumble Balls