Outside the eaves, the rain continued to weave its net, mingling with dust rising from the rubble-strewn courtyard into a dirty gray.
The air is filled with the fishy smell of damp earth and a faint, barely perceptible trace of blood.
Hanzō's gaze dropped, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rough surface of his breathing mask.
The sensation, like touching stubble, actually made him feel a faint sting.
Honestly, Hanzō was almost persuaded by Hii Kōri.
He knew Hii Kōri wasn't genuinely suggesting he poison the daimyō—'use Salamander' was just a joke expression—but how could he truly laugh it off as mere joke?
Daimyō could certainly die, could be killed—but never by his own hand.
Like the Four Villages colluding to raze Uzushiogakure and the Land of Whirlpools to ashes—it must not be discovered by others, must not leave evidence.
Essentially, this wasn't afraid of the daimyō themselves, but alert toward other villages.
Never mind whether those villages were of one mind with their own daimyō or held respect for foreign daimyō—if you dared do anything to a daimyō and news leaked, they'd dare use 'suppressing rebels' as pretext to destroy your entire family and take over your nation's governance.
Even if they harbored the same intentions themselves.
Unless you were Hashirama Senju, capable of single-handedly defeating the entire damn world.
And while unable to defeat the whole world, Hanzō had single-handedly held up his homeland's sky, preventing the Land of Rain from complete kneeling.
Thus, he could see the Land of Rain's dilemma all too clearly.
Struggling for survival in the cracks between great powers was merely the norm of countless small nations—no humiliation. Half his 'Demi-God' reputation came from maneuvering between these countries.
But this struggle, with no end in sight, no hope—truly like the Land of Rain's incessant downpour, enough to kill anyone's passion.
By now, Hanzō's reputation and deeds in the Land of Rain had long reduced the entire daimyō's court to a hollow shell; Amegakure had even taken over governmental functions in many regions.
But this was as far as they could go. The Land of Rain's actual tax revenue and most social operations still remained in the daimyō's hands.
Skimping on funds before the war, hiding in his mansion after, weeping poverty over reconstruction memorials—even Hanzō's envoy seeking disaster relief grain had been turned back three times. Euphemistically 'needing to verify expenditure details,' but fundamentally fearing Amegakure using the opportunity to expand influence.
Of course Hanzō had considered being more tough, but he couldn't gamble—neither Amegakure nor the Land of Rain could afford it.
Ultimately, given the Land of Rain's current riddled state, if Amegakure and the daimyō fell out, this small place wouldn't last until the dust settled before being carved up by neighboring great powers.
Don't imagine civilians could simply gain great power citizenship—such a thing doesn't exist in this world. Not being dragged off as laborers to die in mines would already be humane.
Lacking room to maneuver, Hanzō dared not act, and the Land of Rain daimyō knew this well. So they stalemated.
But with external intervention now, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity truly lay before Hanzō.
Having weathered countless storms in his life, though considering himself hard-hearted, he felt a fierce thrill after a long absence.
Yet beyond this, he had other doubts.
"But brat, what do you seek?"
Hanzō's voice, through his breathing mask, carried its His usual low, hoarse voice said, "The earlier aid benefits Suna and the Land of Wind. But the changes you speak of absolutely wouldn't originate from Suna or Wind."
"For yourself, to defy the world and broach this topic with me—surely not just to generate new revenue for Suna or pursue some empty ideal?"
"Ah... how to put it?"
Never expecting to fool this shrewd salamander, Hii Kōri tilted his head slightly, seemingly organizing his words. This incitement was genuinely a spur-of-the-moment idea.
Before delivering the letter, he'd reread and studied the Land of Rain's situation multiple times, and researched Hanzō's thinking logic.
Given the current situation, perhaps even without his incitement, Hanzō would reach this judgment himself. But Hii Kōri didn't want 'maybe'—he wanted to fan the flames.
On one hand, this was an opportunity to build a relationship with Hanzō. Though his methods were figured out, the Demi-God remained the Demi-God. His vision, experience were clearly displayed—a little Water Release experience wasn't nearly enough. Hii Kōri wouldn't rest until he'd hair all the good stuff from him.
Oh~~~ Amegakure Demi-God's goods are too pure.
On the other hand, whether from the Land of Wind, Suna, or his own perspective, the more chaotic this world, the better.
Not to profit from war, but both sides had needs that could be met by disappearing amidst chaos.
Moreover, though Yahiko never said it, no one believed he could truly let go of the Land of Rain. As his teacher, Hii Kōri should help.
Thinking thus, Hii Kōri looked up at the gradually closing clouds: "I'm actually quite afraid of trouble."
"War, killing, endless scheming... For some, these might be ways to prove worth. To me, they're just noise hindering my pursuit of fun."
In Hii Kōri's view, 'ninja' was merely a product of compromise with the era.
Possessing some ability to wield extraordinary techniques, yet most couldn't create a significant gap from ordinary people.
Long battlefield experience forced knowledge breadth orthodox scholars lacked, but couldn't provide corresponding knowledge density. Techniques honed in lethal combat had almost no applications to adapt to peaceful scenarios.
Unable to convert extraordinary ability into productivity, lacking leisure to continue learning such knowledge.
This was undoubtedly a tremendous waste.
"Oh? fun, you say."
"Hmm?"
Hii Kōri nodded, lightly tapping his temple: "Research. Unknown techniques, chakra's essence, the world's truths, tailed beasts, ninjutsu, the human body... ah, far too much worth exploring. I've no interest wasting energy on killing."
"So you hope to see a more 'orderly' world?"
"Not to that extent. In this world, no one dreams such impractical dreams."
Hii Kōri shrugged: "Chaotic environments drive was born of numerous techniques, but excessive chaos only makes everything develop deformed, even wasted. A more efficient social structure emphasizing productivity and technical development obviously benefits knowledge accumulation and technical breakthroughs."
"I merely need soil where I can peacefully 'cultivate.' The Land of Rain isn't large, your prestige is high enough; resistance to change and impact are relatively controllable."
"Mm... I'll be direct, Hanzō-dono. If you succeed, I'd gladly utilize my abilities in the Land of Rain. If you fail, the chaos stirred up will keep me stable for quite a while."
"Heh—quite candid, you brat."
Hanzō was half-laughing, half-annoyed.
He understood Hii Kōri's meaning, but even with an irresistible open strategy, did he have to lay everything out so straightforward?
"What's wrong with that? Business should be straightforward, Hanzō-dono."
Hii Kōri smiled unconcernedly, quite frankly spreading her hands: "Compared to those who cloak themselves in 'for the village,' 'for peace' while satisfying personal desire for power, I think it's better to be clear from the start."
"Business... business... ah, you're right. That's how it should be."
Hanzō had to admit, these words had a strange persuasiveness. Play political games too long, and you become pathetic creatures uncomfortable unless digging holes in every conversation, forgetting that sincerity can sometimes be a killing blow.
Of course, this was also built on Hanzō truly had no choice. Either do nothing, continue internal friction and rot, and in another decade be spun like a top by the three surrounding great powers.
Predictably, by then he himself probably wouldn't last much longer.
Or, as Hii Kōri said, directly grab the daimyō and instantly refine him, using Wind and Fire's 'compensation' to switch to unified military-political governance, yanking a wave of overall strength.
Couldn't get worse—might as well try. What if it gets better?
"Take my reply and go, Suna fox. Consider that nonsense as never spoken."
Sensing Hii Kōri removed the barrier, Hanzō's words grew vague. But from his attitude, he apparently developed quite a strong interest in Hii Kōri.
Compared to Hiruzen Sarutobi's three disciples, this brat was far more interesting and promising. Not just strength and talent, but also his thinking.
Thinking thus, he suddenly heard Hii Kōri's nonsense.
"...Consider it, Hanzō-dono. A salamander farm—no way it loses money."
Hii Kōri wasn't surprised. Whether or not he acted, verbally it would certainly be denied. He casually spun a pretext, like a persistent salesman continued pitching: "Non-toxic harmless common varieties aside, toxic varieties marketed as premium ingredients only certified chefs can handle toxins—they'll surely sell big among nobles!"
"SCRAM!"
Hanzō never imagined he could smoothly pivot to such a bizarre topic. The Demi-God's breath caught, veins bulging at his temples as he raised his foot to kick Hii Kōri off the porch.
Seeing this, Hii Kōri hastily retreated a few steps, rapidly repeating as if his words might burn his mouth: "The preliminary negotiation location and time between Suna and Konoha will be formally notified later. As for Wind's assistance details, our relevant officials will contact you."
He paused, then added: "Though personally, I suggest before negotiations begin, the Land of Rain would be best to reach some...consensus internally."
"Such matters need no reminder from you."
"Then this junior takes his leave." Hii Kōri bowed, his movements were standard enough to find no fault, as if those astonishing remarks had never happened.
"Thank you for Hanzō-dono's guidance. Today's battle has been most instructive."
With that, he lingered no longer, unhurriedly turning and stepping into the still-falling rain.
"...Hii Kōri... heh, quite a promising junior."
But... a salamander farm? Might actually have potential?
Forced to crack such terrible jokes to resolve the laughter nearly festering his throat, Hii Kōri ended his performance with Hanzō and hurried out of Amegakure, galloping to the outskirts of the Land of Rain, then burst into laughter almost maniacally.
Like a child, he deliberately stomped into puddles, splashing water, occasionally bending to splash water with his hands, kicking roadside stones, watching ripples spread.
He ran, whooped, jumped and shouted, stopped by the roadside clutching his stomach laughing, collapsed to his knees, lay exhausted on stone slabs staring at the clouds.
Then, tears streaming down his face.
"What a... damnable reality."
Probably from the brain interference when reclaiming his technique, he was gradually 'recalling' many things long 'forgotten.'
No, precisely, re-examining things once seen but never noted, placed before our eyes.
So-called forgetting is merely memory degradation. Memories aren't lost, only increasingly faded waste.
Things already seen merely become mottled, blurry, like dust-covered frames—wipe them clean, and they're as good as new.
Those 'caches' recorded in his soul, along with his technique's circuits, were reimprinted in his current brain.
Magazines once flipped through, on movie tickets, complaints Gojō Satoru wrote in reports after cleaning up his messes, menus of that stew restaurant he occasionally visited...
And of course, much manga 'plot.'
Including this NARUTO's plot.
If he'd remembered sooner, perhaps Mataza wouldn't have died—undoubtedly Hii Kōri's first thought.
But having already obtained all Spirit Transformation information and restored his technique, he found it hard to feel deeper regret or sorrow.
A stuck feeling—can't go up, can't go down.
"Ah... can't laugh anymore, can't cry either... Guess I really will have to go to Hell Valley?"
***
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