HxH: Battle Tendencies

The two men stared each other down, both poised to strike at the drop of a hairpin.

"To answer your question—no, I haven't heard of a Joestar. And my connection to the Brandos? Hell if I know. Wasn't exactly close with the old family growing up," Diego said coolly, pulling out a handful of something too small to be clearly visible—whatever it was, it fit easily within his closed fist.

Joseph took a deep breath, channeling Hamon into his severed arm to slow the bleeding. He assessed the situation, steadying himself for the inevitable clash.

"Ah, well. That's good to hear. You see, Brandos and Joestars are like oil and water, I suppose. Wouldn't want a mate of mine turning out to be some rat now, would I?" As JoJo spoke, Diego made his move.

With a sharp kick, Diego sent up a screen of dust and hurled the mysterious object at Joseph. In the same motion, he drew his main weapon.

"A smoke screen?" Joseph thought, narrowing his eyes. The sudden burst of dust had almost forced him to shut them, but by channeling Hamon through his eyelashes, he created a subtle magnetic field—pulling the dust away from his eyes, forming a small, goggle-like ring of clean space.

Swash.

The air shimmered as the projectile cut through the dust cloud, distorting the particles around it.

Joseph sidestepped left, narrowly dodging the thrown object.

Sizzle.

By the time he could clearly make it out, it was already too late. The sizzling sound had been its ignition—a small handheld explosive, primed to unleash as much destruction as its compact size allowed.

"Shit—!" Joseph instinctively raised his arms to shield himself, though he knew it would do little.

Boom.

The explosion rocked the forest. Fire bloomed outward, scattering birds from their perches in a frenzied flurry of wings. The blast echoed far, even reaching the ears of the examiners.

The two examiners exchanged knowing glances and chuckled. "Must be one of the candidates trying to take down the Great Stumps," Menchi said casually.

The dust Diego had kicked up earlier had already begun to settle—only to be replaced by a new, swirling cloud of smoke and debris.

Through it, Diego stood calm, right arm raised. In his hand was a sleek, obsidian-black gun—its make unlike anything seen before. No firearm of that design existed in the known world.

He pointed it into the smoke, his finger resting gently on the trigger.