Main World.
Summer, Year 29 of Konoha.
Imperial Palace, Training Ground.
Moro walked out from one side of the Training Ground.
His dark brown hair fluttered gently in the night breeze, and his Two-Tomoe Sharingan rotated slowly in his eyes. He was six years old, an Elite Jonin, and the wielder of the Wind God Crow Devil Fruit. A small pair of black wings lay folded against his back, their edges sharp as blades, gleaming cold and hard in the lamplight.
His footsteps were light, almost silent. Not deliberately, but instinctively. The Wind God Crow's speed had already been etched into his bones.
Yōsa walked out from the other side.
His red hair looked like a burning flame in the lamplight, and his Two-Tomoe Sharingan likewise rotated slowly in his eyes. He was six years old, a Jonin, and the wielder of the Imperial Sand Devil Fruit. Beneath his skin, faint golden patterns flowed, like wind-eroded rock strata in the desert, like grains of sand gilded by sunlight on a dune.
His footsteps were heavy, every step firmly planted. The Imperial Sand Devil Fruit's defensive power made his body far heavier than those of his peers.
The two stopped in the center of the Training Ground, twenty paces apart.
Toyotomi Yinglang's voice came from the sidelines, calm and without emotion. "Stop short of hurting each other."
Moro said nothing. His eyes locked onto Yōsa. His Two-Tomoe Sharingan rotated slowly, discerning every minute movement Yōsa made-the rhythm of his breathing, the tensing of his muscles, the flow of chakra.
"Wind God Speed."
His voice was very soft.
Then he vanished. It was not "movement," but "appearance." His figure left afterimages across the Training Ground, jumping from one point to another, then from that point to the next. He was too fast