Akira glanced sideways at Hanzo.
He was quietly calculating the probability that Hanzo would turn around and kill him if he wiped out both allies and enemies in one go.
Yeah.
Pretty much a hundred percent.
Even if he really fired off Great Fire Dragon, it probably wouldn't change much. Most of the fighters here were chūnin.
There were jōnin present, though—and stopping Akira's ninjutsu wouldn't be difficult for them.
Even with the Sarutobi bloodline boosting Fire Release, there was no way he could leap that many tiers and kill a jōnin outright.
Unless… the opponent didn't resist at all.
Before he could think it through, Hanzo's forces smashed the blocking ninja aside, clearing a path forward.
Hanzo continued upstairs.
By the time they reached the fourth floor, there were barely any defenders left. Only a handful tried to launch desperate attacks—and were immediately swallowed by Hanzo's men pouring in from behind.
The stairwell had fully flipped control. Hanzo's side now held the choke point, preventing Shōzō's forces from pushing up.
Akira was itching to strike the few remaining ninja on the fourth floor—
"Move," Hanzo said softly from the stairs leading to the fifth floor.
Akira could only stop and follow.
The staircase to the fifth floor was completely empty.
At the top—Shōzō's personal quarters.
A man wearing a gray vest sat on a green tatami mat. One hand rested on the hilt of his blade, the weapon planted tip-down through the tatami.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up at Hanzo.
"Lord Hanzo. You've come."
Hanzo's breathing mask hid his expression, but Akira could tell—his mood was foul.
"Where is Shōzō?" Hanzo demanded coldly.
The man who should have been here was gone.
No wonder Hanzo was pissed.
"Before he left," the ninja replied calmly, "Lord Shōzō said… you already know where to find him."
Hanzo frowned slightly.
"But," the man rose, pulled his blade free, and raised it toward Hanzo with solemn resolve,
"if you wish to see the leader—you'll have to deal with me first."
Hanzo didn't even look at him.
He turned and walked toward the window.
The man kicked off the floor, launching himself at Hanzo—
Akira's hand flashed. A bronze blade condensed in his grip as he moved to intercept—
But someone was faster.
Clang.
A blue-haired man appeared out of nowhere, blocking the strike with a kunai.
He wore a carefree grin.
"Tera, your opponent is me."
"Kumyo…" Tera's face darkened.
—Hold on.
What kind of name is that?
Akira shot Kumyo a deeply offended glare.
That name felt personally disrespectful.
Crash—
Hanzo shattered the window with his sickle. The chain snapped out, wrapping around Akira's wrist.
"…Was that really necessary?!" Akira blurted out.
Hanzo jumped through the window without answering.
Akira had no choice but to follow.
As they ran down the outside wall, Hanzo moving like he weighed nothing, Akira grit his teeth.
Just you wait.
Once my level's high enough, I'm farming you next, Hanzo.
He channeled chakra into his feet, sticking to the wall, keeping pace as they descended.
They exited the central tower and reached the streets.
The roads were spotless.
Empty.
Every ninja who didn't want to get involved stayed home.
Every ninja who did was busy killing—or being killed—inside the tower.
So yes.
Very empty.
Hanzo led Akira straight out of the Rain Village, not far beyond its borders.
There stood an abandoned factory.
Hanzo walked in openly, without the slightest concern for ambush.
Inside, there were no hidden ninja.
Only an elderly man in a black-and-white kimono, a white flower pinned to his chest—like he was attending a funeral.
Rain Village's leader.
Shōzō.
"You came, Hanzo," Shōzō said gently. "I knew they couldn't stop you."
Obviously.
Anyone with eyes could see the gap in strength, Akira silently complained.
"Shōzō," Hanzo said in a low voice, "this ends today."
The Rain Village leadership was meant to be his.
Shōzō ignored that, speaking instead as if reminiscing.
"Do you remember this place? This is where your rise began."
Hanzo's gaze darkened. He said nothing.
This was the experimental site.
The place where he'd been "modified."
Shōzō smiled faintly.
"So many children… and only you survived. Even I found it unbelievable."
Akira shot Hanzo a sideways look.
Somewhere in the future, Yamato was going to hear this story and immediately feel a deep sense of kinship.
Different eras—same trauma.
"Enough," Hanzo snapped. "This is your end."
The tension in his voice betrayed him. Gone was the calm confidence from earlier.
Shōzō wasn't offended. He smiled instead.
"My end? Are you sure?"
"Would you really dare kill me? If you do, you'll forever bear the name of traitor."
With legitimacy lost, Rain Village could even request help from the Great Villages to eliminate Hanzo.
Most of the village wouldn't follow him—they'd rise against him.
That was the real reason Hanzo hadn't acted before.
Shōzō's authority wasn't symbolic.
It was real.
If he died by Hanzo's hand—or because of him—this curse would be planted forever.
Even Shōzō didn't understand why Hanzo had chosen to strike so decisively now.
His gaze shifted to Akira.
"So this is your backup?"
"Can he bear my death?"
Only one possibility came to mind.
Hanzo would have Akira kill him—then let Akira defect, shifting all hatred onto him.
Shōzō thought it.
Akira realized it at the same time.
…You've got to be kidding me.
Akira abruptly threw a shuriken into the distance, drawing both men's attention.
"I—uh—thought I saw a shadow," he said awkwardly.
"There's no one else here," Shōzō chuckled. "And no traps."
"He can bear it," Hanzo said flatly.
I absolutely cannot.
Akira desperately wanted to scream it.
That said… Shōzō was worth over ten thousand EXP.
And he really didn't want to let that go.
"Do it," Hanzo ordered.
Akira reacted instantly.
Shuriken flew.
The bronze blade reappeared in his hand.
But—
The fight never happened.
The shuriken passed straight through Shōzō's body.
Cleanly.
Leaving bloody holes behind.
Shōzō slowly closed his eyes.
And fell.
Just like that.
Dead.
…Dead?!
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