Chapter 57: Rain and Rust (Patreon)

While the villagers of Konoha were admiring the year's first snowfall...

The Land of Rain was still filled with the endless, monotonous sound of falling water. The lead-gray sky was choked with thick, low-hanging clouds like a giant burial shroud, tightly covering the land and refusing to let a single ray of sunlight through; it was unbelievably stingy.

However, compared to the earlier drizzle, the rain now was icy and relentless, as if trying to wash the entire Land of Rain into the mud. Only stray dogs with no homes huddled in corners, tearing at something and chewing on who knows what.

Tap… tap…

Hearing a sound, the dogs pricked up their ears warily, baring their teeth toward the hazy curtain of rain. In the distance, amidst a desolate landscape, several figures emerged from the rain mist, splashing through puddles. Their faces, beneath raincoat hoods, were briefly illuminated by a faint light.

At the front, Hatake Kakashi suddenly raised his hand. Those following him stopped almost simultaneously.

"We are now within the borders of the Land of Rain. Everyone must conceal your identities."

Hatake Kakashi's gaze swept over Hyūga Kumokawa, positioned in the middle of the team. "We will proceed to populated areas to gather intelligence. Remember: listen more, speak less."

Kumokawa naturally understood this reminder was directed at him and nodded solemnly in response.

"Disperse."

At Kakashi's command, the team split into three-person groups, scattering to gather intelligence. Hyūga Kumokawa remained with Kakashi, as instructed by Sarutobi Hiruzen—a form of protection, in a way.

The four of them, including himself and Kakashi, infiltrated the capital of the Land of Rain. The entire process drew no attention or suspicion. No one cast a second glance at their attire or behavior because there were few pedestrians on the streets. Those present mostly hurried along with heads bowed, wrapped in dark raincoats, moving like ghosts through the downpour.

Most of these citizens exuded a numbness and wariness honed by hardship. Occasionally, one could see Amegakure ninja wearing peculiar gas masks and dark uniforms. Hidden among the crowd, the four of them were indistinguishable and attracted no attention.

This was Hyūga Kumokawa's first time in the Land of Rain. His eyes, hidden beneath his hood, surveyed the surroundings. His line of sight took in a forest of steel—pipes of varying thicknesses crawling over buildings also constructed of metal. These structures weren't like ordinary residences; they were angular, full of welding seams, with narrow windows, exuding a sense of gloomy hostility.

Rainwater streamed down cold metal surfaces, gathering in rusty grooves to form murky rivulets that eventually fed into the puddles on the ground. The entire city seemed like a vast industrial ruin, soaked in rain, emitting a silent cry of agony. The gray sky, the dark brown steel, the turbid water, the pedestrians' dark clothing...

"This place... is actually the capital of the Land of Rain."

Looking at this world where all color seemed washed away by the rain, Hyūga Kumokawa's eyes gleamed with a somber light, his voice low. It was the absolute opposite extreme of Konoha's and the Land of Fire's prosperity.

Hatake Kakashi naturally heard his words but only glanced at him briefly from the corner of his eye before looking away. 'Pity? What a naive junior.'

Ding-ding-ding.

Kakashi pushed open the door of a tavern. A copper bell hanging from the doorframe chimed, and condensation on the glass slid down, leaving only damp streaks. Hyūga Kumokawa followed behind. As soon as he entered, he was hit by the thick smell of dampness, rust, and alcohol mixed in the air. The rain had not only shaped the environment here but seemed to have seeped into the very soul of the nation.

Kakashi's group of four sat at a table near the window—a spot that allowed observation of the outside and a quick escape if needed.

"Barkeep! Another round!"

"Ha! That hits the spot!"

At a distant table, several men dressed as ninja were drinking heavily. No one sat near them; everyone gave them a wide berth. Clearly, they were Amegakure ninja. Hatake Kakashi's dead-fish eyes narrowed slightly as he intently listened to their conversation.

"Sigh, the wife's been complaining again lately."

The scar-faced ninja took a swig of his drink, exhaling boozy air with a sigh. "She keeps saying the food rations they're handing out are getting smaller and smaller. Says we won't even be able to keep a pot going soon. Asks me what we should do."

Bang!

He slammed his cup on the table. "What should we do? How the hell should I know?"

"It's true," another long-haired ninja chimed in, his expression also grim. "And the price of grain is skyrocketing. It's doubled now."

Ninja didn't engage in production. For ninja during wartime, money was important, but filling their stomachs with food was even more crucial. And for the Land of Rain, with agriculture practically non-existent, grain was an incredibly precious and vital resource. Where did the grain distributed to ninja come from? Naturally, from the Daimyō of the Land of Rain. Since ninja didn't produce anything, once war broke out, trade was cut off, and if they lost the Daimyō's support, Amegakure would be in dire straits.

And where did the Daimyō of the Land of Rain get his grain? Nobody cared—even if everyone knew it came from the common people of the Land of Rain.

"Have you heard?" someone finally lowered their voice. "The Land of Fire declared war on the Land of Lightning. Could it be because of that?"

A sudden silence fell over the group. Finally, the long-haired ninja spoke hesitantly, "It shouldn't have much to do with us Amegakure, right? The Third Great Shinobi War was like that too..."

"Pah, bullshit 'no relation.'"

Before he could finish, the scar-faced ninja, as if drunk, cut him off, muttering darkly, "We weren't affected in the Third War because of Lord Hanzō. But how long has it been since he's shown his face? Hiding away all the time. Who knows if he's even dea— Mmmph!"

Hearing this, the others instantly paled, reaching out to cover his mouth.

"Shut up!"

"You've got a death wish!"

"If you want to die, don't drag me down with you!"

They couldn't help but whisper-yell in anger. Though who was truly angry at him for insulting Hanzō, and who was shocked and furious at his audacious words... that was another matter.

The scar-faced ninja sobered up, realizing what he'd said, and his face also went white. Amegakure had its own Anbu too. If those words reached their ears, he'd be lucky to escape with his skin intact. In his panic, the scar-faced ninja instinctively looked around... and his eyes landed on a pair of dead-fish eyes that hadn't been withdrawn in time.

"What the hell are you looking at?! Dead-fish eyes! What are you staring at?!"

Brimming with rage, he shot to his feet. A passing waiter was so startled he fumbled his tray, sending several full glasses crashing to the floor.

Crash! Smash!

The jarring noise and his murderous aura instantly silenced the entire tavern. All the customers held their breath. Those who frequented such places knew what was likely to happen next. But unless there was real conflict, ninja generally didn't attack civilians lightly. So, they just looked at the four people by the window with pity and sympathy. They really were just unlucky.

It wasn't so much that the scar-faced ninja was angry, but rather a frightened rage born of guilt.

"..."

Hyūga Kumokawa, who had kept his head bowed the whole time without looking directly, slightly tilted his head to glance at the "senior" beside him, Hatake Kakashi, with his wide-open dead-fish eyes. As if understanding the meaning in Kumokawa's glance, Hatake Kakashi couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

To think the one who slipped up was him, the senior.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on who made the mistake, because that scar-faced Amegakure ninja was already stomping over with intimidating force.