Chapter 63: The Intruder (Patreon)

"..."

Hanzō opened his mouth, but found no words. He had not expected Konoha to understand the Land of Rain and Amegakure's current plight to such a degree.

During the Second Great Shinobi War, why had he finally snapped and declared war on the Five Great Nations? One must understand that the Second War had not yet fully erupted. Disputes among the Five were still restrained, limited to local friction. The Land of Rain had not refused to serve as a buffer zone then.

But the conduct of Sunagakure and Iwagakure was simply too appalling—especially those nearly desperate Suna ninja. They did not just target other shinobi within the Land of Rain; they disregarded civilian casualties entirely during combat. Many Suna ninja even plundered and killed, while the Kazekage turned a blind eye.

Sunagakure's finances were already strained. Pillaging civilians could actually ease their burden. After all, they were not robbing civilians of the Land of Wind. The lives of civilians in small nations were the cheapest currency.

So, the still-young Hanzō had finally had enough. He flipped the table, leading Amegakure in rebellion against the Five Great Nations. Back then, he was truly young and proud, filled with ambition and dreams. He vowed to change the Land of Rain and bring it peace, believing he could single-handedly change the world. He thought he was special. He and his comrades felt like the protagonists of a story. Protagonists and their comrades do not die.

But when he was injured in battle, reaching out to find the blood-drenched corpses of his friends—watching more and more people dragged down and starved to death—he finally understood. No one in this world is special. No one.

So, having faced reality, he spared his enemies: Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade. He did so because the Land of Rain and Amegakure were nearly exhausted then, unable to withstand Hiruzen Sarutobi's hysterical fury if he were to lose his disciples.

Having faced reality again, he allied with Danzō to kill Yahiko, who reminded him of his younger self. At that time, to him, everything Yahiko preached was just unrealistic fantasy—ideas that only threatened the power and stability he had painstakingly secured, potentially plunging the Land of Rain into a bottomless abyss.

But now, Hanzō felt some regret. If that young man were still here... if that man named Nagato were still here... if he had not attacked Akatsuki back then, and if Amegakure had worthy successors...

The reason the Land of Rain had emerged neither victor nor vanquished from the Second War was solely because of his presence. He was at his peak as a shinobi then. Now, he was faltering and aged, meaning the Land of Rain had completely lost its last bargaining chip. Facing the shameless plundering of Iwa and Suna now, unless he and Amegakure chose not to resist, any renewed resistance would swiftly lead to the total exhaustion of resources and manpower.

So, their only choice now truly seemed to be... cooperation with Konoha. Or, to put it more accurately, subservience.

"..."

After a long silence, Hanzō shifted his gaze to the Amegakure ninja behind him, his voice slightly hoarse. "What... do you think?"

As the words left his mouth, he felt a wave of nausea. He knew he was not giving them a choice; he was handing them the weight of the decision. He was evading—evading the decision he should have made and the responsibility he should have borne. He could not even face who he had become. He had become the kind of person he most despised in his youth.

The Amegakure ninja, just as he expected, fell silent. They were not completely ignorant of their village's situation. The Land of Rain simply could not muster the resources to sustain another campaign. They could not resist as they had during the Second Great War. The reserves and strength of a Great Nation were beyond what the Land of Rain could match.

But even so, they longed to see Lord Hanzō act as he had in the past—to take decisive action, to make Konoha understand that Amegakure was not weak, and that Hanzō's authority was not something a teenage brat could challenge. Even if the consequence of that choice was their sacrifice, they would have willingly followed him.

But now, Lord Hanzō was compromising.

Was it disappointment? Perhaps. But this was Amegakure's best option now. Was it understanding? Perhaps that, too. But subservience to a Great Nation with whom they shared a blood feud was a bitter pill to swallow.

Shame, anger, resentment, confusion, and powerlessness... the fighting spirit in their hearts seemed to deflate. Their hands holding weapons went slack. Seeing this, Hatake Kakashi inwardly sighed in relief. He understood that this Hanzō had truly changed. These negotiations should proceed smoothly now.

Just as he was about to speak...

Plop...

A droplet of red liquid fell from the tower ceiling, striking the floor and splashing, shattering the suffocating silence.

Plop... plop...

Shinda, standing beside Hanzō, instinctively looked up. A few drops landed on his parched lips. The familiar metallic scent of blood made him freeze.

Crack!

An abrupt sound tore through the desolate quiet, sharp and clear like a silver vessel shattering. The glass dome atop the tower had broken. Shards rained down from the sky onto the crowd below. It was as if a giant hand had torn open a curtain, allowing a torrent of noisy wind to rush in from above.

Then, a whistling sound came from overhead. A dark mass plummeted down, landing squarely between Hatake Kakashi and Hanzō.

Thud!

The Konoha and Amegakure ninja instinctively stepped back. Crimson blood spurted out, splattering their faces and leaving dark red stains. They stared, shocked and uncertain, at the grotesque, twisted figure on the floor—the corpse that had fallen from above.

It was a body contorted beyond recognition. Its head, twisted multiple times, hung by a strip of skin from its neck. The face wore a visible expression of horrified shock. Blood spread across the floor. The body bore no obviously grievous wounds, but rather the kind of twisting that spoke of brute force tearing it apart. Like a towel wrung dry with immense strength, its flesh and bones were rotated until they burst outward. Pale bones pierced through skin and muscle like thorns. The cruelty was palpable.

"It's you..."

Hanzō instinctively focused his gaze on Hatake Kakashi, only to see Kakashi casting the same look at him.

"Not him."

"Someone else is interfering."

Realizing it simultaneously, they both looked up toward the ceiling. There, before the shattered glass dome, a figure hovered in mid-air. The dim moonlight behind him illuminated the tower, revealing the fearful, panicked faces of those below. All the filth and depravity within the tower were laid bare.

"How disappointing."

"The once-proud Hanzō has had his spine broken, turned into an old dog."

He looked down at the people below, his lofty tone full of mockery as he announced his presence.