Night was nearly upon them.
Outside, the rain fell without pause, the endless downpour drumming so loud that even inside the room it was impossible to ignore the noise.
This was one of Amegakure's many towers. From the outside, it looked no different from the rest: the same dark-gray walls, the same thick and sturdy drainage pipes, the same tightly shut windows—its very presence radiating an oppressive gloom that matched the sky above.
But inside—
The air reeked of damp mildew, the dim lights flickered irregularly as if struggling to stay alive. Ame-nin stood guard every few steps, their formation so tight that even a fly would struggle to slip through. From the moment they entered the building, Kurōu and Gōu fell silent of their own accord, striding quickly under the scrutiny of both obvious and hidden eyes.
The interior was a maze, corridors twisting upon corridors.
Fortunately, Kurōu had memorized the route over the past few days. Though he hesitated often at crossroads, his feet always found the right path in the end, leading the newly returned Gōu deep into the "labyrinth" until they arrived at a wide chamber.
The room was bare.
The walls were naked, no decorations in sight. There were no shelves, no cabinets, not even a chair or tea table. At the far end of the chamber hung a curtain, and behind it rested a simple bed. On that bed, a lone figure sat cross-legged.
On either side of the bed, two more figures stood at silent attention.
"Hanzō-sama, I've brought Gōu."
Kurōu halted before the curtain, bowed his head low, and reported in a voice filled with reverence.
Immediately after—
"Hanzō-sama, forgive my incompetence. The mission… has failed!"
Gōu dropped to one knee, head lowered in shame.
"Kurōu. Step aside."
"Yes, Hanzō-sama."
Kurōu obeyed at once, retreating to the side like a motionless poplar tree.
Behind the curtain sat an aged man, his body slightly hunched. Though indoors, though seated on a bed, he wore full battle gear and even a respirator mask, as though ready to fight at a moment's notice.
This man, cautious to the very extreme, was none other than the leader of Amegakure—Hanzō of the Salamander.
Through the veil, his eyes fixed on the kneeling Gōu. His voice rasped, dry and weathered with age:
"Tōu is dead?"
"Yes. Tōu is dead."
"How?"
"She was killed… by a genjutsu user."
"A genjutsu user?"
The tone behind the curtain sharpened slightly.
Even Kurōu's eyes widened in surprise at Gōu's words.
"Yes. Tōu and I had already cornered Konan of Akatsuki. Just as we were about to take her alive, we realized someone else was lurking nearby. At first, we assumed it was Akatsuki reinforcements, so we forced the intruder out of hiding…"
"That person wasn't Akatsuki?"
"They didn't appear to be."
Gōu answered honestly, not daring to hide anything. All along the road back to Ame, he had turned the disastrous battle over and over in his mind. And in truth—he had already formed suspicions about the stranger's identity.
"Continue."
"Yes. Tōu and I drove the figure into the open. At first, we didn't think much of it—after all, Konan was already at her limit. Neither of us believed that one lone stranger could change the tide. But we were wrong… That man was a genjutsu user. Worse—he used auditory genjutsu!"
Genjutsu was one of the three pillars of shinobi arts, alongside ninjutsu and taijutsu. But for most shinobi, it was only ever a supplementary tool. Many trained only enough to break out of illusions, devoting their lives instead to ninjutsu or taijutsu.
Specialists in genjutsu were rare. And of those, nine out of ten focused on visual illusions. Practitioners of auditory-based genjutsu were almost unheard of in the shinobi world.
Which meant—few shinobi had any real defenses against it.
To encounter such a foe unexpectedly, to be caught unprepared—losing one's footing was only natural.
Kurōu, listening beside him, felt the mocking glint in his eyes fade into something closer to sympathy. He asked himself honestly—if he had stumbled into an auditory illusionist, would he have done any better than Gōu? Likely not. He might very well have shared Tōu fate.
"An auditory illusionist… Did you confirm who he was?"
"I only have a suspicion."
"Speak."
"He fought using a flute as his medium. And recently, all the talk in the shinobi world has been about the fall of the Magic Flute Clan—their betrayal of Iwagakure, their flight as an entire bloodline. My guess… he was one of them."
A pause. Then the old man's rasp again:
"Your brain isn't completely broken after all."
Whether it was praise or scorn, Gōu could not tell. He only lowered his head further, too cowed to speak.
"The Koeda Clan—better known as the Magic Flute Clan—has indeed entered the Land of Rain. They crossed in from the north and are migrating south… And just before you returned, I received new intelligence. The Koeda have entangled themselves with those irksome brats in Akatsuki."
There was a faint edge of killing intent in Hanzō's voice.
For all that Akatsuki had risen within his borders, their existence had never yet shaken his hold over the Land of Rain. He had eyes everywhere—more than two hundred members of the Koeda entering his country was never going to escape notice. He had known of their presence almost immediately.
But—he had not yet decided how to handle them.
Should he capture the clan and gift them to Iwagakure as a gesture of goodwill?
Should he recruit them, bolstering the might of Amegakure with their unique bloodline?
Or simply turn a blind eye, so long as they caused no trouble within his lands?
Each path had its own risks, its own rewards.
Twenty years ago, the Hanzō of that time—the one hailed as a "demi-god," the one whose ambition was to make Amegakure the sixth great hidden village, to raise the Land of Rain to equal footing with the Five Great Nations—would never have hesitated. He would have seized the Koeda without fear, even at the risk of Iwa's wrath.
But that Hanzō… no longer existed.
Now he was over sixty. His hair had turned white. His body weakened year by year. His chakra reserves dwindled, unable to sustain the overwhelming power he once wielded. His ambition had long since withered away.
Now, he sought only to silence all discord within his borders—
And live out his twilight years in peace.
Thus, his hesitation over the Koeda was no real hesitation at all. By doing nothing, he had already made his choice. And so the Koeda had roamed freely for days without a single Ame-nin lifting a hand against them.
But now—
Now that the Koeda had aligned themselves with Akatsuki, his wavering thoughts began to crystallize. Akatsuki had grown strong enough already. He could not allow them to grow stronger still.
"Gōu. Return and rest. For the next few days, you're off missions. Soon… there may be new orders for you."
Hanzō hesitated for two long seconds before speaking.
He had not yet committed himself to a final decision.
"Yes, Hanzō-sama."
Gōu did not dare ask more. He answered meekly, and when silence fell once again behind the curtain, he rose carefully and withdrew on light steps.
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