After that, the ninja kept ranting—about how incompetent the current leader of Amegakure was, how cruel the Five Great Nations were for giving them no room to survive, and how Hanzo was powerful, wise, virtuous, and brave.
"In three days, Lord Hanzo will give a public speech in the village," the man declared. "He'll call on heroes to change this country of endless tears. I'll stand with him. Together, we'll bring peace to the shinobi world!"
After the meal, no one asked further questions.
Hanzo's open posturing revealed everything they needed to know.
For an assassin, knowing the target's location is enough.
---
On the street afterward, Hitomi asked quietly, her voice tinged with sadness:
"Is Konoha really that hateful?"
"For them, it is," Maki answered softly.
"So… they're just?" Hitomi pressed.
"Do you want to play at being a partner of justice?" Maki asked in return.
"They didn't do anything wrong, though, did they?"
"In the shinobi world, weakness is wrong," Maki said flatly. "When we act, do we need to consider their opinions? What if their opinion is that we should die?"
"…I understand." Hitomi nodded firmly.
Raindrops slid off the umbrella like shattered pearls. Hitomi smiled faintly.
"Then let's kill this Hanzo. The Rain will keep crying, but it won't die just because of his ambition."
"That's right," White Fang agreed.
Maki glanced at him, saying nothing.
Naori wore a thoughtful expression. Whatever she was thinking, she didn't share.
---
At that moment, Maki paused mid-step, then she kept walking as if nothing had happened.
On the rainy street ahead, an old man in his sixties approached slowly.
Naori caught Maki's reaction and frowned. Her eyes followed the man.
He wore plain black, thick hedgehog-like hair hanging down. His eyes—rippling with eerie concentric rings.
Naori quickly looked away from those strange eyes.
Maki stayed silent. They passed each other without incident, like strangers on the street.
But after the man was gone, Maki stopped.
"What's wrong?" White Fang asked.
"…Nothing," Maki said, shaking her head. "Just surprised."
"That guy was strong," White Fang muttered, voice heavy. "And he didn't look like any Ame-nin. No disguise, no transformation."
Naori crossed her arms. "Creepy. And he was looking right at us…"
Maki exhaled, then turned.
The others followed her gaze upward.
In the drizzle, the old man now stood atop a tower, arms folded, looking down at them with quiet arrogance.
"Konoha shinobi… so nostalgic," he murmured.
Those eyes. Since he'd opened them, he had yet to kill with them.
He had just returned to the shinobi world, gathering intelligence, studying the balance of power.
Hearing of Hanzo, he wanted to judge the man himself. Was he worth subduing?
Time was short. He had only a few years to move freely, to make his final arrangements.
"Strange," his thoughts narrowed on Maki. "This girl… the leader?"
His Rinnegan pierced through Yin Release trickery, falling on Maki's masked face.
"The Aburame clan… weak chakra, weak body."
Then his gaze slid to Naori. The tomoe of her Sharingan spun. He gave a small nod.
"Three tomoe… not bad. And that genjutsu… interesting."
He frowned at Hitomi. Her chakra was too abnormal. Only one other person had ever carried such a presence—Hyūga Tennin.
"The Hyūga technique of opening chakra points freely… useful. But it's a path to death. Chronic suicide. That one won't live long."
Finally, his eyes fell on White Fang.
"Hmph. Waste." He dismissed him instantly.
And yet, his attention drifted back to Maki.
Why did the Hyūga and Uchiha flank her like protectors?
How strong could an Aburame possibly be?
Should he test her?
He loosened his folded arms.
Naori and Hitomi's hands slid to their hilts.
White Fang tensed, reaching slowly for the dagger on his back.
Maki lifted a hand, stopping them.
"Don't." Her voice was calm. "You do your job, we'll do ours. No need to interfere."
"Hmph. Interesting," the old man said. "And what is your mission?"
"Do you want to dance too?" Maki sneered.
Professional killers don't spill their contracts. Not even to him.
The old man blinked, then laughed. "Interesting! Then let's dance!"
In an instant, he vanished.
Steel sang—their three blades flashed out at once.
A blade stopped an inch from Maki's throat.
Purple motes swirled around her like stardust. He knew that poison. A single breath would kill.
And around him, three swords pressed into his vitals.
Yet the street carried on. Passersby walked through the rain, seeing nothing.
An illusion—not Naori's, but Maki's.
"…Impressive," the old man muttered. His form warped—splintered—and fell as a wooden clone.
Wood Release?!
White Fang's eyes sharpened. Impossible.
The real old man stood at the street's edge now, smirking.
"Interesting. Your control of insects surpasses the old Aburame elders. But against Wood Release, no parasite will matter."
He sneered. "You're a hundred years too early to challenge me."
Maki raised a hand, pressing it onto Hitomi's shoulder. Purple light spread across her body.
The old man's pupils tightened. To weaponize even that poison—at this level?
Hitomi stepped forward, sword ready. Chakra surged violently as her tenketsu burst open.
"The Eight Gates Formation, hm?" the old man sneered. "Can you rival Tennin, girl?"
Naori's hands blurred through seals.
Maki clapped once. Scarlet beetles swarmed into the air.
Her genjutsu meant little against an Uchiha—but it could distort theirs in turn.
"Insect Art—Vacuum Poison!"
From her mouth, a massive violet sphere erupted, hurling toward him.
"Not bad," the old man murmured.
Blue chakra flared violently. Skeletal chakra bones began to form.
But then—both sides halted.
The half-formed Susanoo vanished.
The great violet sphere dissolved midair.
Across the streets, squads of Ame-nin sprinted past, rain splashing at their feet.
Something else had happened. An interruption.
"…Tch. A shame."
The old man cast them one last glance, then turned and walked away into the rain.
Maki lowered her hand.
"Let's go."
And in the next heartbeat, the four vanished as well.
_____________________
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