Chapter 15 – Wrath of God: A 'Gift' for Hanzou
The smoke cleared; the desk was empty.
Shinda's pupils shrank, his heart skipped a beat.
The fat man, Maeda, who had been cowering on the floor, was gone too!
That damned fat rat—without a shred of Chakra—had a nose for fleeing sharper than anyone!
'No good! It's a trap! Pull out!!'
Shinda roared, spun, and lunged to smash through the door.
'Running now? A bit late, don't you think?'
A cold voice, like a funeral bell from the depths of the underworld, echoed through the warehouse.
Everyone jerked their heads up.
Unnoticed, Konan hovered beneath the rafters. Gigantic paper wings unfurled behind her, an angel of judgment. There was no trace of frailty left—only the icy disdain of one who looks down on mortal life.
'This is Hell. You don't come and go as you please.'
Konan raised a finger and snapped.
Clatter—!
The warehouse's peeling paint, rusted iron sheets, and rotting floorboards suddenly sloughed off as though alive.
What lay beneath wasn't brick or earth.
It was layer upon layer of exploding tags, covered in eerie runes.
The entire warehouse was a coffin plastered with death Talismanic Incantation.
'Th-this many…'
Shinda's legs melted into jelly; his usual arrogance crumbled into utter despair. This wasn't a trap—it was enough to level the whole block.
'For Kyusuke, for Daibutsu, for the thirteen comrades who died.'
Konan's eyes were blades. Her red lips parted:
'Die.'
BOOM————!!!
Blinding white devoured everything.
The despairing screams lasted less than half a second before the earth-shaking blast swallowed them whole. A colossal fireball tore through the rain, igniting the pitch-black sky of Amegakure.
…Amegakure Tower, top-floor bedchamber.
'Ngh!'
Hanzou of the Salamander shot upright in bed; the wound Yahiko had pierced through his abdomen spasmed, sweat drenching him.
Outside the window, fire reddened half the sky; the boom followed late.
Something's happened!
Hanzou's bare feet hit the floor, heart racing.
The intuition of a man at the Ninja World's summit told him the danger wasn't the distant blast—it was the silence.
This was the heart of Amegakure's power; twelve elite Anbu stood perpetual guard outside.
On an ordinary day you could hear a fly pass.
Now the corridor beyond the door was tomb-dead.
'Guards!'
Hanzou barked, snatching the chained kama beside his bed.
No answer—only thunder laughing at his impotence.
He narrowed his eyes, fierce despite their cloudiness, and yanked the door open.
A reek of blood slammed into him.
'Wh—'
At the sight of the corridor, the old man revered as demi-god reeled.
Bodies lay strewn across the floor.
His proudest personal guard.
No sign of struggle, no Ninjutsu residue. They'd collapsed mid-stance, weapons still sheathed.
A hair-thin line of blood crossed every throat.
One-shot kills.
So swift the dead hadn't even reacted—faces still coldly vigilant.
'Who's there?! Show yourself!!'
Hanzou's knuckles whitened on the scythe, cold sweat trickling down his spine.
Such silent slaughter—back in the day not even Konoha's White Fang could surpass it!
The Shinigami stood at his bedroom door.
'Hanzou, who are you looking for?'
A voice devoid of emotion drifted from the stairhead. 'The Shinda already ash in the firestorm? Or the dignity you yourself tossed away?'
Crack!
A livid lightning bolt tore the night, bleaching the corridor.
At the stair's end a figure leaned on a sword.
The black robe with red clouds flapped in the gloom; beneath tousled orange hair, amber eyes looked down on Hanzou.
Not the gaze one gives an enemy—the gaze one gives a corpse.
'Ya… Yahiko!!'
Hanzou ground his teeth, veins bulging. 'You dare survive—and break into my tower alone?!'
Fury—
Fury so absolute it buried fear. He was Hanzou, the apex of the Ninja World; he would not cower before a brat.
'The moment you conspired with Danzo and betrayed your ideals, the real Hanzou died.'
Yahiko slowly lifted a hand, fingertip aimed at Hanzou's heart.
'What remains is a rotting carcass. I'm here to bury the old era.''
'Insolence!!'
Hanzou roared, Killing Intent erupting. 'If you didn't stay dead, I'll kill you again, whelp!'
Whoosh—!
The chained kama became a black lightning bolt, coated in instant-death poison, spanning dozens of meters to claim Yahiko's head.
The strike sealed every escape.
Certain death.
Yet—
Facing a blow that could sheer a mountain, Yahiko didn't blink.
Behind him a red-and-white hideous specter formed, its devilish face grinning with contempt for all life.
[King Crimson]!
Color drained from the world.
Time was erased.
In the dimension only Yahiko could feel, Hanzou's lethal swing crawled in slow motion. Yahiko stepped aside, strolled to Hanzou's flank, and chose the perfect angle.
'Time, resume.'
Color returned.
To Hanzou the world stuttered in a grotesque 'frame skip.'
One instant his blade kissed Yahiko's neck.
The next—
Clang!
Sparks flew.
The scythe bit empty iron railing, the rebound numbing his hand.
Where was he?!
Yahiko had vanished.
'What is this? Again—this sensation!!'
Terror detonated; every hair stood on end. Not Body Flicker Technique, not genjutsu—someone had gouged out a chunk of reality!
Before he could react, annihilating pain burst in his gut.
'Too slow.'
The cold whisper brushed his ear.
Bang!!
Yahiko's full-force kick hammered the still-raw hole Yahiko had once driven through his abdomen!
Injury upon injury!
'Gah—!'
Hanzou's eyes bulged; a gout of blood sprayed as he was flung like a rag through the door to sprawl inside.
Agony—
Agony that gnawed bone!
'Can't fight… can't win! He's a monster!!'
Clambering up, Hanzou's Battle Intent guttered out, terror of a beaten cur left in its place.
He couldn't fathom the ability!
The unknown is the greatest terror.
'Water Release: Water Clone Technique!'
His hand-signs blurred; two watery Clones burst toward opposite windows.
Escape!
If he could break out, rally Amegakure's army—
He'd drown the monster in corpses if he had to!
Watching the old man flee, Yahiko smiled from the corridor's shadow, cruel and wide.
'Run. Run for all you're worth.'
'In my world, there's nowhere left to run.'