"But… isn't the Sage of Six Paths just a legend? Did he really exist?"
"Idiot! The Sage is the ancestor of shinobi—the creator of ninjutsu! If he didn't exist, where did shinobi come from?"
"That's still just a story…"
The room buzzed again.
A handful of Rain shinobi voiced their doubts—not out of disrespect for Hanzō, but because the Sage of Six Paths belonged to an era so distant it blurred into myth. His life was unrecorded, his deeds wrapped in centuries of retelling.
And now—
A supposed inheritor stood before them.
It felt unreal.
Hanzō's voice cut through the murmurs.
"There is no need for doubt. I have verified it repeatedly. The Sage of Six Paths did exist."
"And these eyes of Nagato's… hold immeasurable power."
His tone was ironclad.
"I guarantee you this—once Nagato fully masters the Rinnegan, he will surpass me."
"He may even surpass the founder of Konohagakure—the so-called God of Shinobi, Hashirama Senju."
The weight of that statement crushed the last embers of skepticism.
Hanzō had staked his name—his legacy—on this boy.
Gradually, the gazes directed at Nagato changed.
Curiosity became awe.
Awe became belief.
Hanzō continued, his voice steady but heavy.
"Since the establishment of the one-country, one-village system decades ago, the Great Nations have known cycles of war and peace."
"When they wage war, they recover afterward."
"When they recover, they prepare for the next war."
"And what of us?"
His eyes darkened.
"The Land of Rain has always been the buffer."
"When they fight, our land becomes their battlefield."
"When they scheme, our land becomes their chessboard."
"Peace has never descended upon Rain."
"War has never left Rain."
The hall grew somber.
Most of those present had grown up amid artillery smoke and blood-soaked mud.
Fathers dead. Mothers buried. Families scattered.
In the vast Land of Rain, intact households were rarer than clear skies.
They all knew that pain.
They all hated the world that made it inevitable.
"But even so," Hanzō's voice rose, sharp as steel,
"we have never stopped resisting."
"And we will never stop."
"This world should not be this way."
"Our country should not be this way!"
"Why must our children grow up without parents?"
"Why must our civilians wander without homes?"
"Why must the Land of Rain exist only as ground for others to fight upon?"
His presence filled the chamber.
"During the Second Shinobi World War, I declared war on three Great Nations at once—not for glory."
"But to make them hear us."
"I failed."
"But failure does not mean I was wrong."
His fist clenched.
"It only means I was not strong enough."
"Not strong enough to do what the First Hokage did—what Hashirama Senju did—when he ended the Warring States Era."
"Not strong enough to reshape fate."
"And our country—exhausted by endless war—lacked the foundation to challenge the great powers head-on."
He drew a slow breath.
"But that only hardened my resolve."
"To seek peace through compromise invites annihilation."
"To seek peace through struggle ensures its survival."
"If we endlessly yield, they will believe us weak."
"If we fight, they will learn we have a will of our own."
"Only when they fear us will they hesitate to turn our land into their battlefield again."
"My life has been devoted to that struggle."
The grief in the room transformed.
Where sorrow had lingered—
Fire now burned.
"And now," Hanzō declared, placing a firm hand on Nagato's shoulder,
"he has appeared."
"He carries the will of the Sage of Six Paths."
"Heaven has not abandoned the Land of Rain."
"The Sage has not abandoned us."
"The Rinnegan has manifested here—for us."
"And it will bring true peace to this nation."
His eyes shone with unyielding certainty.
"Give me five years."
"In five years, I will raise Nagato into the next Hashirama Senju."
"The next God of Shinobi."
"And when that day comes—"
"The Land of Rain will rise with overwhelming strength."
"Konoha will listen."
"Iwagakure will listen."
"The Land of Wind and every other Great Nation will listen."
"No one will enter our borders freely."
"No one will treat our soil as their battlefield."
"No one will ignore our voice."
"No one will trample our civilians."
He swept his gaze across the hall.
"But remember—this is not a task for one man."
"If Nagato is the torch that shows us the way—"
"Then you are the sparks that set the prairie ablaze."
"One spark may be small."
"But countless sparks form a galaxy."
"If each of you gives even a single measure of heat… even the faintest glow… together you will become a starfield in the darkness."
"The future of the Land of Rain rests with all of you."
And then—
Hanzō bowed.
Deeply.
To his subordinates.
Tenyu and Kanzō rose first.
"We would die for you, my lord!"
The cry was fierce, unrestrained.
Moments later, the entire hall stood as one.
"We would die for you!"
Even the members of the Akatsuki echoed the oath.
Hanzō straightened, eyes calm once more.
"There is one more matter."
"You are the pillars of this village. I trust you—that is why Nagato stands before you today."
"But he is not yet fully grown."
"Until he is ready, not a single word about his eyes must leave this room."
"If it does—"
"Do not blame me for what follows."
The warning was clear.
No one objected.
In truth, even without the threat, they would have guarded this secret with their lives.
"The meeting is adjourned."
"Return to your posts."
"Tenyu, Kanzō—allocate additional supplies to the border forces."
"And arrange accommodations for the Akatsuki."
"They are our people now."
"Yahiko, Nagato, Konan—you three, come with me."
Hanzō looked over the assembled shinobi one last time.
"Gentlemen."
"May Heaven bless the Land of Rain."
The hall thundered in unison.
"May Heaven bless the Land of Rain!"
Their voices surged upward like a tidal wave.
Outside, the ever-present storm seemed to falter for a heartbeat—
As though even the endless rain had parted,
Allowing thin strands of sunlight
To pierce the clouds above the Land of Rain.
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