The Land of Rain.
Situated in the central area of the largest continent in the shinobi world, it neighbors the three great nations of Fire, Wind, and Earth and the three smaller nations of Bird, Grass, and River.
Tall mountain ranges stand between the Land of Earth and Wind and the Land of Rain.
That creates a valley-like terrain shaped almost like a funnel, blocking the warm, humid ocean winds from blowing directly into the Earth and Wind nations.
The moisture-laden air is forced upward, condenses into huge amounts of orographic rain, and pours down across the Rain Country in concentrated precipitation.
It is precisely this extreme terrain that has left most of the Earth and Wind nations covered in barren rock and desert — producing a "weeping nation."
At the same time, the abundant rainfall gathers into rushing rivers that run like arteries to neighboring countries, nourishing the Bird, Grass, and River nations, and even providing a few scarce oases to the Wind Country…
But the great powers do not appreciate the Rain Country.
Caught between the Earth, Wind, and Fire nations, the Land of Rain served as a buffer and a sacrifice during the Second and Third Shinobi Wars, making this already weeping land feel even lonelier and sadder.
Drip… drip…
On the tallest tower of Amegakure, a figure stood by a window staring outward. A gas mask hid his face; pale-yellow hair streamed behind him in the wind.
Rain lashed the glass through the black night. Aside from the small pool of light inside, everything beyond was dim and indistinct.
If a stranger happened to see this man's face, they would be startled by how aged he looked.
Not merely aged in appearance, but with a dusk that had sunk deep into his very core — a rot that seemed eaten through by worms, a hollow kind of twilight.
Hanzō the Salamander — once the powerful shinobi who, by his own strength during the Second Shinobi War, had held even great nations at bay; once the hero and legend of Amegakure; once effectively the pinnacle of non-bloodline-limit shinobi strength…
He had grown old.
He was the same generation as Chiyo; he was now over sixty.
He could feel, with stark clarity, that his vitality and strength were ebbing away.
The poisonous sacs he'd once implanted within himself — the ones he'd boasted about — had become the source of his bitter suffering and pain.
Powerlessness and age had made the former strongman vulnerable; he'd even arranged round-the-clock rotating guards. Every minute of his life now moved under the shadow of death.
All of this because of that brat once called "Nagato," and that terrifying power…
"Lord Hanzō."
A voice behind him pulled Hanzō out of his trance. He frowned and glanced back before asking in a low voice, "Still nothing?"
"S-sorry, Lord Hanzō." The Amegakure shinobi's voice trembled as he spoke to the increasingly capricious Hanzō. "Most of the remnants of the Akatsuki have been mopped up, but we still can't find those two leaders. Every time we pick up a trace, the trail goes cold at the end."
"Like…?" the messenger hesitated, unwilling to say more. Hanzō's voice turned faintly cold: "Like someone received information in advance?"
Indeed — Amegakure was still dirty inside.
Why? Why is there always betrayal? I only want to live. I only want the Land of Rain to survive. Am I wrong?
No — I am not wrong! If it weren't for me, the Rain Country would still be the sacrifice of the big nations! Those naive fools are wrong!
Sensing the murderous intent radiating from Hanzō, the Rain shinobi dropped to his knees, head bowed, trembling.
Long moments passed before the chill slowly eased. Hanzō asked in a cold tone, "Anything else?"
"…" The messenger's throat worked; for a while he couldn't bring himself to speak.
Seeing this, Hanzō felt unease well up and growled through a frown, "Speak!"
"Yes! Yes!" The Rain shinobi swallowed and, voice quavering, said, "According to intelligence, the Land of Fire has declared war on the Land of Lightning!"
"…"
Silence fell across the room. Hanzō had no response; he only kept his head bent, not daring to look up.
A leaden, gray sky split open and a bolt of lightning shredded the darkness, illuminating the world — and lighting Hanzō's pale, terrified face.
Why? How could this be? The Land of Fire has actually declared war on the Land of Lightning!
The Second and Third Shinobi Wars were separated by more than a decade.
But now, only four short years after the Third War, the clouds of war had once more gathered over the shinobi world?
Boom!!
Thunder cracked like the blast of a war drum, jolting Hanzō out of his fear and panic.
"Lord Hanzō…" the Rain shinobi called softly from behind.
Hanzō quickly collected the cowardice from his features and spoke in his usual voice, "I understand. You may go."
The messenger blinked but respectfully replied and left, closing the door behind him.
Though Hanzō had aged and his temper grown erratic, to the shinobi of Amegakure he was still their hero.
But…
"War, war! Why? Why, why?!" Hanzō raged inwardly.
As a buffer between Fire and the Earth/Wind nations, if a war between Fire and Lightning escalated, and Wind and Earth stepped in, the Rain Country would have no way to avoid becoming a sacrifice once more!
Hanzō could already guess that once other great nations received this news, they would send scouts into the Rain Country to probe.
Watching the rain cascade like a waterfall outside the window, blown into mist and smoke by a strong wind, Hanzō thought:
If I die, what becomes of the Rain Country? If I die, what becomes of the people of the Rain Country? If I die, how can I face those who once sacrificed themselves? If I die, will everything I've fought for vanish like smoke?
If I die, will I fall from hero adored by thousands to a criminal spat upon by thousands?
Such thoughts surged and would not be suppressed.
He felt like a rootless duckweed drifting in muddy water; beneath this curtain of rain and on these rippled surfaces swam packs of bloodthirsty piranhas.
If he showed even the slightest fatigue, a piece of flesh would be torn from him! The entire Amegakure and the Rain Country depended on Hanzō's backbone.
It was precisely because of his presence that during the Third Shinobi War the Rain Country had not suffered terribly.
But Hanzō was now far too old.
That once straight, broad, proud back could not shoulder the hopes of tens of thousands anymore.
Fear, trembling, cowardice, shrinking back…
Hanzō's heart was nearly swallowed by these tides of emotion.
A blade that once charged ahead with sharpness and courage was now being corroded by its own bloodstains.
Meanwhile, at a cave near the edge of the Rain Country, three figures wearing the black cloaks with red clouds stepped out.
Their dead-eyed faces betrayed no emotion as they looked toward the distance; they could clearly see the Rain Village's tallest spire — a steel-gray colossus standing among the low trees, looking down.
That was where Hanzō stood.
"A Fourth Shinobi World War? Great nations are always this greedy." The lead figure, Deva Pain, spoke coldly and quietly. "Even though we haven't found suitable bodies for the Lower Three Paths of Pain yet, the Upper Three Paths alone will suffice."
Given the current turbulence across the shinobi world, he could not delay any longer.
If he gripped Amegakure sooner, Akatsuki could begin recruiting members.
That old, weakened Hanzō no longer mattered in his calculations.