Part One – Hanzo's Suspicion
The rain poured endlessly over the metallic rooftops of Amegakure, each droplet echoing like the steady beating of war drums. Inside the towering fortress that served as the village's center of power, Hanzo the Salamander sat in silence upon his throne-like seat. His presence was suffocating—armor gleaming darkly, his mask concealing his scarred face, and the aura of death clinging to him like a second skin.
This was the man who, in time, would be feared across the continent, the man who would clash with the three soon-to-be Sannin and force them into legend. Even now, in the midst of the Second Great Shinobi War, he was already a figure of dread.
But Hanzo had problems.
Reports piled before him. Iwagakure raiding from the north. Konoha squads ambushing supply lines. Rumors of Sunagakure probing his borders. The weight of a thousand enemies bore down on his fractured land. He did not need distractions.
Yet distractions had come.
A captain knelt before him, trembling slightly under Hanzo's gaze. "Lord Hanzo… four of our chunin have been killed in the forests near the eastern border."
Hanzo's eyes narrowed behind the mask. "Killed? By whom?"
"We do not know, sir. There were signs of combat… but no indication of which enemy village."
Hanzo leaned back, fingers tapping his armrest. He had earned the title Salamander for his ruthlessness, for his poison, for his cunning. He did not survive by underestimating enemies—no matter how small.
"Send scouts," he ordered. "Special jōnin. Stealth and reconnaissance only. Find who dares to strike my shinobi."
Two masked figures bowed and vanished into the rain.
Days later, they returned. Kneeling before him once more, they delivered their report.
"My lord… it was not Konoha. Nor Iwa. Nor Suna."
"Then who?" Hanzo demanded.
"Two children," the scout said slowly. "A boy and a girl. Both red-haired. Their chakra… immense. They are Uzumaki."
The silence in the chamber was palpable. Hanzo knew of the massacre of Uzushiogakure. He knew the three great powers had annihilated the clan for fear of their sealing arts. For survivors to be here—within his territory—was both an opportunity and a danger.
Hanzo's mind turned swiftly. He had no space to shelter or nurture orphans, not when the world was aflame. And if the other nations learned that Uzumaki were hiding in Rain, they would see it as a threat, another reason to target him.
"Uzumaki…" he muttered, almost to himself. "Seeds of calamity. If left unchecked, they will grow into storms."
He raised his hand. "Send two jōnin. Silent, efficient. Erase them."
The two chosen assassins bowed, vanishing into the shadows.
Hanzo's voice echoed in the empty hall."Children or not, I cannot afford to let monsters bloom in my garden."
Part Two – The Battle of Blood and Steel
The night was heavy with mist as two figures approached the cabin hidden deep within the forest. The jōnin of Amegakure moved like wraiths, their presence masked, their killing intent sharp and cold.
Inside, Kaito stirred. His instincts screamed danger. He rose, padding silently to the door. His hand reached for the handle.
The moment the wood shifted—steel lunged.
A blade hissed toward his throat, but Kaito twisted aside, the edge grazing only air. His eyes widened. Assassins.
"Soka!" he roared.
She burst from her bed, grabbing her kunai as the killers stepped into the room, rain dripping from their cloaks.
The battle began instantly.
The Clash
Kaito's sword flashed, parrying a downward strike. Sparks filled the dark cabin. The second jōnin slipped past him, kunai darting for Soka. She barely blocked, the impact sending her stumbling back.
The assassins were silent, efficient. Their movements carried the weight of years. These were not chunin—they were killers forged in war.
Kaito's heart pounded. He remembered the chunin, their faltering stamina. These men were different. Faster. Stronger. Deadlier.
"Stay sharp!" he barked, sweat mixing with rain on his brow.
The cabin walls rattled as jutsu flared. A torrent of water smashed through the doorway, forcing Kaito to roll aside. He countered with a slash, chakra hardening the blade, forcing the enemy back.
For minutes, the cabin was chaos—steel, wood splinters, fire from clashing chakra. Finally, Kaito shoved the fight outside, into the clearing. Rain poured down, hissing on burning wood.
The duel stretched on.
Kaito's muscles screamed. Every parry rattled his bones. Every strike met a wall of resistance. The jōnin were relentless. Soka darted in and out, her precision strikes forcing them to divide their attention, but she paid dearly. A kunai slipped past her guard, plunging deep into her shoulder. She cried out, stumbling back.
Kaito's rage flared. He charged, his sword cleaving arcs of silver. The jōnin met him blow for blow. His chest heaved, his chakra blazing like wildfire.
The fight dragged on—ten minutes, twenty, thirty. Their breaths grew ragged, their bodies cut and bruised. But still the jōnin pressed.
At the fortieth minute, Kaito faltered. A blade slashed from his right hip to his left shoulder, ripping through flesh. He staggered, pain exploding across his body. Blood streamed down his chest.
But he refused to fall. With a roar, he lashed out, his sword fueled by sheer will. The blade bit into one assassin's throat. Crimson spattered the rain. The man collapsed.
The second jōnin snarled, rushing him. But Soka, pale and trembling, leapt forward. Her kunai pierced the man's ribs, slipping between armor. Kaito followed with a final strike, his blade severing the enemy's guard.
The last assassin fell.
Silence.
Only rain, and their ragged breaths.
Kaito dropped to one knee, blood pooling beneath him. Soka clutched her shoulder, swaying.
But they were alive.
Barely.
The Healing
They dragged themselves back inside the ruined cabin. With shaking hands, Soka bound Kaito's wound, the gash stretching from his waist to his opposite shoulder. He hissed in pain but clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.
Soka winced as she tended her own wound, the kunai still fresh in her flesh.
Hours passed. Their vitality—the legendary vitality of the Uzumaki—worked slowly, knitting flesh, purging weakness. By dawn, the bleeding had stopped. The pain lingered, but they lived.
Kaito lay staring at the broken ceiling. "We can't stay here. More will come."
Soka nodded faintly. "Then we leave."
Part Three – To the Land of Waves
The next day, Kaito and Soka gathered what little they owned. Weapons. Food. The few furs they had left. They did not look back at the cabin—already stained with blood.
They traveled in silence to the nearest port. With money from their hunts, they purchased passage on a small boat. Their destination: the Land of Waves, an island said to be peaceful, ignored by the great nations, free from ninja wars.
The sea voyage was long, the days blending together with the sound of waves and gulls. They ate sparingly, spoke little, each lost in thought. But the further they sailed, the lighter their hearts grew.
At last, green shores appeared on the horizon.
They had arrived.
A New Start
The Land of Waves was humble—fishermen, traders, families who lived without the shadow of shinobi. Kaito and Soka sold the animal hides and dried meat they had carried, earning more coin than expected. The foreign goods were rare, valuable.
With the money, they bought a small house near the coast. Humble, yes, but theirs. One bedroom with two beds, a sofa, a small kitchen, and a modest sitting room.
That night, they sat together on the floor, a simple meal between them. For the first time in months, there was no fear of footsteps outside, no scent of blood in the air.
Soka smiled faintly. "It's… peaceful."
Kaito looked around their little home, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. His wounds still ached, but his heart eased. "Yeah… peaceful. For now."
They spoke long into the night, about training, about seals, about all they could accomplish in this place. The storm would come again, Kaito knew. But for now… they could breathe.
When at last they lay in their beds, exhaustion claiming them, Soka whispered across the darkness, "Kaito?"
"Mm?"
"We'll get stronger, right? Strong enough that no one can take this away again?"
Kaito closed his eyes. "Stronger than anyone."
Sleep claimed them, the rain outside gentle, no longer filled with fear.
For now, the Uzumaki exiles had found a fragile peace.
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I saw that most of the votes were for Kaito to be a villain and to explore the world or form his organization, so I'll do that. I'll see if he will form his organization or not depending on your votes.
If you review or give a Power Stone, I'll give you an extra chapter.
A Power Stone: an extra chapter.
A positive review: an extra chapter.
This would help me a lot and would also attract more people, so I'd make more chapters per day.
Today I will do 2 extra chapters because Ahrael gave a power stone and Lux gave a review, but if they give more reviews and power stones I will upload more today