If an outsider could see this man clearly, they would be shocked by how old he looked. It was not just age in his appearance, but a deep exhaustion that reached inward. It felt hollow, as if eaten away from the inside.
"Deadly Poison Weapon" Hanzo was once the shinobi who overwhelmed the great nations during the Second Shinobi World War. He had been the hero and legend of Amegakure, a figure who nearly represented the peak of non-Kekkei Genkai shinobi. Now, he was old.
He was of the same generation as Chiyo, already past sixty. He could clearly feel his vitality and strength slipping away day by day. The poison sacs once implanted in his body, once his pride, had become a source of pain and hatred.
Weakness and age made this former powerhouse suspicious. He assigned rotating guards to protect him day and night, living every moment in fear of death. All of it traced back to that child named Nagato and that terrifying power.
"Hanzo-sama."
The voice behind him pulled him back to himself, and he frowned as he glanced over his shoulder. "Still nothing?" he asked in a low voice. His tone carried impatience.
"I am, I am sorry, Hanzo-sama."
Facing the increasingly unstable Hanzo, the Rain ninja trembled as he spoke. "Most of the remaining members of Akatsuki have been eliminated, but the two leaders are still missing. Every time we find a trace, the trail ends in nothing."
"It is like…" He stopped, afraid to continue, but Hanzo spoke coldly for him. "Like they received information in advance?"
So Amegakure was still not clean.
Why was it always betrayal? He only wanted to live, and he only wanted Land of Rain to survive. Was that wrong? No, he was not wrong. Without him, Land of Rain would still be a sacrifice of the great nations.
The ones at fault were those naive fools.
Sensing the violent killing intent radiating from Hanzo, the Rain ninja knelt and bowed his head, shaking. After a long while, the chill slowly faded. Hanzo asked flatly, "What else?"
The Rain ninja swallowed, unable to speak at once. Seeing this, unease rose in Hanzo, and he growled, "Speak!" The ninja quickly answered, "According to Root intelligence, Land of Fire has declared war on Land of Lightning!"
The room fell into dead silence. The ninja dared not lift his head, and no response came. Outside, the leaden sky split open with a flash of lightning, lighting up the world and revealing the pale fear on Hanzo's face.
Why? How could this be?
Land of Fire had actually declared war on Land of Lightning. Only a few decades separated the second war from the Third Shinobi World War. Yet just four years after the third war, the shadow of conflict once again covered the Ninja World.
Thunder roared like a war drum, snapping Hanzo out of his shock. "Hanzo-sama…" the Rain ninja said carefully from behind. Hanzo forced his expression calm and replied, "I understand. You may leave."
The Rain ninja hesitated but still answered respectfully and withdrew, closing the door. Though Hanzo was old and his temper unstable, to the shinobi of Amegakure he was still a hero. That belief had not yet faded.
"War, war. Why? Why does it always come to this?" As a buffer between Land of Fire and the lands of Earth and Wind, Land of Rain could not escape if the conflict expanded further. If Land of Wind and Land of Earth also joined the battlefield, becoming a sacrifice was inevitable.
He could already guess that once the other great nations learned the news, they would send people to probe Land of Rain. Thinking of this, Hanzo looked out at the rain pouring down like a waterfall, blown into mist by strong wind. The view beyond the glass blurred and vanished.
If I die, what happens to Land of Rain? If I die, what happens to its people? If I die, how do I face those who sacrificed themselves before me? If I die, will everything I have vanish?
If I die, will I fall from a hero admired by thousands to a criminal cursed by thousands? These thoughts rose uncontrollably in Hanzo's mind. He felt like drifting duckweed in muddy water, surrounded beneath the rain by unseen predators waiting to tear him apart.
The whole of Amegakure and Land of Rain rested on his back. It was because of him that during the Third Shinobi World War, the country avoided devastating damage. But now, Hanzo was simply too old.
That once broad and proud back could no longer bear the heavy hopes of hundreds of thousands. Fear and trembling filled his heart until it felt ready to break. The blade that once cut forward without hesitation was now corroded by its own blood.
At the same time, near the edge of Amegakure, three figures stepped out of a cave. They wore black cloaks with red clouds, their eyes empty as they looked into the distance. From there, they could clearly see the tallest tower in Amegakure, standing like an iron-gray giant above the low forest.
That was where Hanzo stood.
"A Fourth Shinobi World War?" The leading figure, Tendo Pain, spoke in a calm, cold voice. "The great nations are always this greedy, but the upper three Paths are enough for now."
Given the turmoil across the Ninja World, he could not delay any longer. Once Amegakure was in hand, Akatsuki could begin recruiting members. As for the aged and failing Hanzo, he no longer mattered.
gezhi…gezhi...
Yunchuan Hyuga walked slowly along the road, with the wind and snow howling around him. The storm that raged yesterday finally ran out of strength before dawn, but it left a thick layer of snow covering the ground.
Thud. Thud.
Dull sounds came from far away, torn apart by the wind, yet they grew clearer as Yunchuan Hyuga drew closer. All paths left by passersby were buried under white snow, and only Yunchuan Hyuga's footprints remained, as if all of Konoha had been scrubbed clean overnight.
The sky, however, hung low in a heavy gray, letting through only a weak and pale morning light. It reflected off the snow with a cold and lifeless feel.
Neji Hyuga stood at the center of this white, silent world, still wearing that thin black mourning outfit. In the courtyard, his young face was blank as he hammered at the wooden training dummy.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He had completely abandoned the techniques of Gentle Fist, using only the most crude and violent strength to throw punch after punch. Each impact made a dull sound that hurt the ears.
The skin on his knuckles quickly split and peeled back, blood seeping out and staining the wooden post in patches of dark red. With every swing, thin lines of blood flicked through the air and splashed onto the clean snow at his feet.
It was clear that the boy was once again using a self-destructive kind of training to vent his grief and anger on the silent wooden training dummy. He kept striking without pause, as if the pain was the only thing keeping him standing.
"Truly pitiful."
Yunchuan Hyuga leaned against the courtyard gate with his arms crossed, looking at the unmoving Neji Hyuga and smiling. "Pointless venting. What, are you hoping I'll hug you and say, 'Stop hitting it, it's all in the past'?"
Neji Hyuga froze and slowly turned to look at him, resentment filling his pale eyes. His voice was hoarse as he spoke with hatred, saying, "What do you know? You couldn't even protect my father's body. You're just a useless waste too."