Morning came with the steady drumming of rain. The storm from the night before had passed, but in the Land of Rain, there was no such thing as clear skies. The world remained shrouded in mist, the trees heavy with moisture, and the ground slick with fresh mud.
I turned to where Yukino lay. Her chest rose and fell with the same slow rhythm, she was still locked in unconsciousness. I crouched down, checking her pulse—still stable. Good enough for now.
Shinichi had already prepared a small fire, our clothes having dried during the night. A simple meal of rations and warmed tea had been shared in silence, the tension between us much like the ever-present rain: lingering, inevitable.
I finished my tea, then stood, hoisting Yukino onto my back with ease. She felt weightless to me, but that was an illusion—I knew the burden I carried was far heavier than her frame. Her life still hung in the balance.
Shinichi tightened his gear and looked at me. "We're heading straight back, right? No detours?"
"No detours," I confirmed. "We move fast, we stay low, and we avoid every fight we can."
Shinichi gave a sharp nod, but the tension in his posture betrayed him. He was still rattled from the night before, from everything he had admitted. I had no space in my mind to deal with that now.
We moved swiftly, slipping through the thick underbrush and cutting through the mist-laden terrain. The path back to base was long, and every step was a potential misstep. The Land of Rain was treacherous—not just because of its geography, but because of the eyes that were always watching.
As we pressed forward, Shinichi broke the silence. "You think she'll be okay when she wakes up?"
"She will be," I replied without hesitation, though I had no way of knowing for sure. "She's strong."
Shinichi let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Stronger than me, that's for sure. I still can't believe I said all that stuff last night."
I didn't look at him. "Doesn't matter now. Focus on getting back."
He exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah. Right. One step at a time."
Time passed in a quiet rhythm of motion, breath, and focus. The rain soaked into our clothes again, making them heavier with each mile we covered. We spent hours making our way through the muck and mud, avoiding any contact with civilization. I made sure we ran around all sorts of outposts, avoiding the danger of enemy-nin.
This was the last stretch. The last dash home. We had to make it.
We had to.
And at first, it seemed like we would.
As we ran, I initially only heard the sounds of rainfall, the squelch of mud beneath our feet, and the distant rumble of thunder. But then—
A presence.
I felt it before I saw them. The unmistakable weight of killing intent hanging in the air. I stopped.
"Shiro—?" Shinichi started, but the words died in his throat.
Shapes emerged from the mist. Figures clad in dark armor, forehead protectors bearing the mark of the Land of Rain. They surrounded us in a tight formation, weapons at the ready. Their numbers were impossible to count in the shifting veil of mist and rain, but it didn't matter. They were just too many.
Shinichi's breath hitched. He took an uneasy step back, fingers twitching toward his weapon. "T-this isn't—"
I remained still, my eyes scanning, calculating. There had to be a gap, an opening—
Then I saw him.
A figure loomed just beyond the circle of Rain shinobi. Taller than the rest, his presence undeniable. Rain slicked his long blond hair down, but the mask stood out—a strange, bulky metal contraption resembling a gas mask. His presence on the forehead protector, marked with the Rain symbol, overshadowed the others.
Hanzo the Salamander.
…
What the fuck?
What the actual fuck?
Why is this bastard of a demon standing in front of me with a battalion of rain shinobi!?
Every sense in my body screamed of danger beyond anything we had faced before. Even Chiyo wouldn't be able to fare well against this man, most likely.
What even is my luck?
Did the spider-man comic writers have a go at my wheel of fate? Are they up there laughing at me as they guide the pieces on this massive chess board?
Was this funny?
Sadistic fucks!
Why, oh why?
No, like seriously, what the fuck?
Hanzo stepped forward, his voice carrying through the downpour. "What do you think you're doing in these parts, Leaf scum?"
I swallowed hard, my jaw clenching. "We're just trying to survive. Trying to go home safely and save our comrade."
Hanzo scoffed, the sound full of something that was neither amusement nor pity. "Survive? Save a comrade? I, too, had comrades I wanted to save. More than once, in fact." His voice turned colder. "But I couldn't. Not because I was weak, but because of your people. The Leaf's shinobi. You slaughter my people aimlessly wherever you go. I'm but one man, and I cannot save us all."
The air grew heavier, the weight of his words settling over me like a boulder on my shoulders. "So, just like your people didn't show it, I too won't show you the mercy that so many from my country craved."
I cursed under my breath. Beside me, Shinichi let out a sharp, panicked breath, his fingers trembling.
I turned to him, pressing Yukino into his arms. "Run when you get the chance."
Shinichi's eyes snapped to me in horror. "What?! What do you think you're going to do against this many—"
"I've recovered since last night," I cut in, my voice steady. "I can handle the shinobi here. They seem to be a mix of Genin and Chunin. With the inner gates, I can handle that. But Hanzo—that man—" I exhaled, my grip tightening. "He's the real problem. This is probably the end of the line for me. I'll die so that you two can live."
A bitter sense of acceptance settled in my chest as I spoke those words.
The end of the line.
I had always feared this war would claim my life eventually—there was no walking away unscathed. If it had to happen, at least it would be on my terms. At least it would mean something. The weight of my decisions, my failures, my victories—they all led to this moment.
I wasn't afraid of dying. I was afraid of failing. Of letting Yukino slip away after coming this close to saving her life. I owed her at least that much after she saved mine.
"What?! Don't say that! Yukino needs you! If anything, it should be me—"
"Shinichi!" I barked, forcing him to listen. "You have to protect Yukino from this point till you reach our outpost. Get her to Tsunade. Swear you'll do it. Swear it to me with your life."
Shinichi's mouth opened, then shut, his face twisted with desperation. But there was no time.
Hanzo raised his hand. "Kill them."
As the Rain shinobi lunged forward, I let out a slow breath, bracing myself.
And then—I opened the Fourth Gate.
Power surged through my veins, a flood of raw energy that set every muscle in my body ablaze. The pain was a distant thing now, drowned beneath the overwhelming force that propelled me forward. The first shinobi didn't even have time to react—I was on him in an instant, my fist driving into his chest with such force that his ribs collapsed inward. He flew back, crashing through two more of his comrades like a rag doll.
I didn't stop. I held my hands together in a seal and three shadow clones burst into existence, each one moving with the same relentless speed, carving through the ranks of Rain shinobi. My steel wires shot forward with my clones in formations, each acting as a conduit for them as the wires lashed out like striking vipers. One wrapped around a kunai-wielding enemy's arm—before he could scream, I yanked, severing the limb in a spray of crimson.
Lightning surged through the wires, arcs of electricity crackling as I sent another shinobi convulsing to the ground. Two more lunged at me from the sides. A spinning kick—Leaf Hurricane—caught them both in the ribs, their bodies folding inward before they flew into the mist.
I moved like a storm, fists and steel wires weaving a path of destruction. A group tried to form a defensive stance, but my clones struck first, driving through them with precise, devastating blows. Every strike I landed crushed bone, snapped limbs, and ended fights before they could begin.
The battlefield blurred around me, a whirlwind of movement and chaos, but I stayed focused. I extended my arms, and the steel wires shot out like serpents, lashing and twining with deadly intent. The frenzy caught a dozen Rain shinobi before they even realized it. My wires wrapped around their arms, necks, legs—each one a calculated snare, pulling them together in a tangle of struggling bodies. I tightened the wires, and with a vicious snap, I sent them crashing into one another.
The air had thickened with the smell of blood, sweat, and something sharper—something burning. Cackling electricity filled my ears as I channeled a current through the wires. The sparks leapt, searing through the metal and into the shinobi caught in my trap. I heard their screams, but the buzz of lightning arcing drowned them out, their bodies jerking uncontrollably.
Flesh cooked, skin blackened, and the smell of charred meat mingled with the metallic tang of blood. I hadn't flinched. Another tug of my wires, and I severed an arm clean off, watching it fall to the ground like a lifeless thing. One shinobi collapsed in a heap, his body twitching as the electric surge cooked his insides. A pair tried to break free, but I pulled them together, the sickening crack of skulls meeting sounded through the air as their heads collided. I twisted the wires, cutting through their limbs, their throats, whatever I could reach.
It was a symphony of destruction, and I was the conductor. More bodies dropped, twitching and lifeless, until the battlefield was a litter of broken, bleeding husks. My wires had been my instruments, and the death they delivered was my song.
Still, I could feel the weight of Hanzo's presence. Watching. Waiting.
This wasn't over yet.
He finally raised his hand and the remaining Rain shinobi disengaged. I'd gotten nearly half of them in that initial engagement, I'm sure he didn't wish to waste his forces more than necessary. Now, I'd be facing the big boss himself.
Why, what a wonderful occasion…