"Lord Hanzo, our Anbu monitoring the Suna camp have reported in. Parashia, the Suna Commander, has left the base with eighteen Jonin. Their current destination is unknown."
In the Hidden Rain Village, it hadn't taken long for intelligence to reach Hanzo after the movements of Suna and Konoha.
"Shortly after, our scouts at the Konoha camp reported that Orochimaru has mobilized nearly eighty percent of their forces, including all seventeen available Jonin. We believe this is a direct response to Parashia's departure."
"Heh. It seems one young Senju brat has triggered quite the chain reaction," Hanzo remarked.
Having already deduced Tsunade's departure earlier, it took him only a moment of thought to untangle the web of motivations. He let out a dry, mocking chuckle.
"Lord Hanzo, this is a godsent opportunity," one of the Ame Jonin said, unable to hide his excitement. "Should we take advantage of this and—"
"Hmph. Orochimaru is no brainless brute," Hanzo snapped, cutting him off with a cold snort. "If this is something even you lot can see, do you really think he hasn't accounted for it? For all we know, he's currently holding a net wide open, waiting for you to jump in and die."
Cautious and suspicious by nature, Hanzo had become even more wary after his recent setbacks. At his rebuke, the Ame Jonin quickly retreated into silence, heads bowed. None of them dared to cross Hanzo when he was in such a foul mood.
"Ignore Konoha and Suna for now. If they truly manage to cripple each other, all the better," Hanzo said, his tone growing increasingly irritable as he looked at his cowering subordinates. "Focus your energy on how to quickly restore Amegakure's strength once this war ends. Have you learned nothing from this conflict?"
He stood up, pacing like a caged predator. "Insufficient strength means that even if you manage a lucky break through ambushes or tricks, your gains will be nothing more than flowers in a mirror or the moon in the water—fragile illusions that shatter the moment a Great Village like Konoha or Suna touches them!"
"Only when our numbers and individual strength rival the Five Great Nations will our dream be realized. Only then will the Hidden Rain truly be a Great Village with a Sixth Shadow!"
He barked the lecture at them, his eyes burning. Failing to secure the title of "Amekage" was a bitter pill for Hanzo to swallow, but he hadn't given up on the dream. He had personally crushed the three most talented disciples of Hiruzen Sarutobi and held his own against Suna's elite puppet-masters. He was confident that his own power was equal to any Kage; the failure, in his eyes, lay solely with the underperformance of his subordinates.
To him, the path forward was clear: nurture more elite Ame ninja to share his burden in the next war. And until then, "pruning" the enemy's rising talent was an excellent way to narrow the gap.
"Arau!" Hanzo called out, looking for his Anbu Minister.
Silence met his call.
"Lord Hanzo," an Anbu messenger finally appeared after thirty seconds, looking slightly panicked. "Lord Arau received word from Gouyu and has already left the village."
"Oh? They've made progress already?" Hanzo's irritation vanished instantly, replaced by a flicker of predatory interest.
"Yes. Gouyu and his team found several corpses killed by Wind Style near a village southwest of Mistrain City. We believe they are clues left by the two fleeing Konoha ninja."
"Mistrain City?" Hanzo narrowed his eyes.
Mistrain City was a small, unremarkable town in the Land of Rain. If his memory served him correctly, it was a bit out of the way for anyone heading toward the Konoha camp. One was to the southwest of the Hidden Rain, the other was due west.
Is it a diversion? Hanzo wondered. Or are they simply lost? Or... has that little Senju already realized our true objective?
Things were getting dangerous.
Sensing the world through the wind, Hatani felt a cold knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. Based on the snippets of conversation he'd intercepted from the refugees, they were dangerously close to Mistrain City.
For two kids pretending to be war orphans, being near a city was a double-edged sword. Normally, orphans would flock to a city in hopes of finding order and food. In fact, most of the refugees around them were heading toward Mistrain City for exactly that reason.
If the Hidden Rain wasn't hunting them, Hatani wouldn't have minded. They might have actually scored a decent meal. But now? The Hidden Rain had set up checkpoints outside the city, meticulously inspecting every orphan who matched their age and height. If they approached, they were walking straight into a cage.
But if they avoided the city entirely, that anomaly would stick out like a sore thumb. Even if the Ame ninja didn't spot them immediately, the other refugees would likely report them in exchange for a scrap of bread.
The wind had already carried the voices of Ame ninja questioning the wanderers: "Have you seen two boys traveling together? Roughly twelve years old? One with yellowish-brown hair, the other with messy blond hair?"
This was exactly what Hatani had feared. Unlike the Suna ninja, who were invaders, the Hidden Rain were the "local snakes" here. They had the eyes and ears of the entire population.
He and Nawaki hadn't had a real meal in over a day. They were unarmed, lacking even basic ninja tools. If they ran into an Ame squad—even a group of Genin—they were looking at a desperate struggle.
And then there was Akiren.
Akiren was a major liability. If they were spotted, Hatani and Nawaki could use chakra to flee, but what about the boy? Akiren had no chakra and was so malnourished he could barely walk without tripping. He'd never keep up.
Worse still, Akiren was a native of this land. Hatani knew that when it came to survival, people were capable of anything. Betrayal for a bowl of rice was a common currency in war.
Hatani opened his eyes and looked at the shivering "bean sprout" beside him.
The time for a hard decision had arrived.