"Nagato… so Pain's true body really is you?"
Hanzo's complicated gaze swept across Nagato. The anger born from nearly dying completely vanished at this moment.
At first glance, Nagato hardly resembled a living person anymore. He looked more like a dried corpse forgotten in some dark corner and weathered for a thousand years.
His body had wasted away to a horrifying degree. Lifeless pale skin clung tightly to jagged bones, as though his flesh and blood had long since been drained dry by some invisible force.
Every rib protruded clearly. His collarbones were sunken like knife cuts. His arms were as thin as withered branches in winter, seeming as though they would snap from the slightest touch.
Even his legs had been crippled by Hanzo's explosive tag trap back then. He had essentially lost the ability to walk and could only move through the aid of that crude apparatus.
His dried red hair hung down like withered vines, making his face resemble a skull wrapped in a thin layer of skin. Beneath the red hair, his eye sockets sank into two dark hollows.
And yet, within those hollow sockets, there was a pair of "Sage Eyes" gleaming with eerie light in the darkness.
The Rinnegan.
These legendary "eyes of the Sage" embedded within this withered shell looked as though divine power had been forcibly stuffed into a vessel on the verge of collapse.
"Hanzo, in the end you still came. However…"
Nagato's Rinnegan slowly turned toward the figure beside Hanzo.
Yet even those eyes could not see through the face hidden within the shadows.
Still, Nagato sensed a familiar aura from him.
The pain lingering in the depths of his soul had not yet faded. That terror remained vividly etched into his memory, causing his body to tremble slightly.
"Greetings, Mr. Nagato."
Arata stepped forward, his tone humble and smiling.
"You may call me 'Shadow.' Presumably, you have already met my lord. Please allow me to convey his apologies on his behalf."
The moment those words fell, Hanzo subconsciously looked toward the diamond-shaped mark on his palm.
Konan also froze briefly before quickly reacting, fury surfacing on her face.
"So it was you!"
Since the one who caused Nagato's suffering was neither Madara nor Zetsu, then it could only have been Hanzo and the person before them.
"No, no, Miss Konan. It was my lord, not me."
Arata's tone remained gentle as he calmly corrected her.
"Who is that person?" Nagato suddenly asked.
"It is my lord," Arata replied with a smile.
"..."
Nagato felt another headache coming on.
But he also understood perfectly well that this guy clearly had no intention of explaining further.
So he simply said coldly: "So you came here to die?"
As he spoke, the ripples within his pupils slowly stirred again, and a powerful aura once more radiated from his body.
He had already prepared himself to fight to the death.
Hatred likewise surfaced in Konan's eyes.
But at that moment, Hanzo suddenly nodded.
A short but forceful answer: "Yes."
"..."
The chakra within Nagato's body suddenly stalled, as though he had momentarily frozen.
But he quickly realized,
Hanzo was actually answering the sarcastic remark he had casually thrown out earlier?
"I came here to die."
Hanzo's voice was low and clear.
He raised the blade of his sickle toward his own heart, confirming Nagato's suspicion.
Watching Hanzo in this moment, Arata suddenly thought of the scene from the original story where Hashirama Senju stabbed himself with a kunai before Madara in order to repay Tobirama's killing of Izuna.
The Hashirama of the past. The Hanzo of today.
How much of it was genuine? And how much false?
Arata did not know.
Nagato and Konan did not know either.
Perhaps even Hanzo himself did not know.
Arata had already told Hanzo what those eyes truly represented.
He had also informed him of Nagato's plan to create tailed-beast weapons and use fear to force peace upon the world.
Hanzo understood better than anyone the limits of ordinary shinobi.
Along the way here, he had seen too many things he had once ignored.
He looked toward the towns and saw the once-prosperous stone houses, once filled with countless craftsmen, now broken and desolate.
He looked toward the riverbanks and saw the places once filled with life and joy now entirely swallowed by the rivers that had once brought prosperity.
He saw the once-busy ports, where ships used to come and go, reduced to war-torn ruin.
He saw the few remaining wheat fields flattened to the ground.
He was even recognized by some civilians, only to learn from them that the people he had once saved had starved to death by the roadside three years ago.
Yes.
They had not died in war.
They had starved to death alive.
Hanzo did not dare stop walking.
He could only keep moving, moving endlessly, fleeing almost pathetically,
Until he entered this cave and saw those eyes.
The divine eyes that controlled life and death.
Hanzo knew that the current state of the Land of Rain was already the absolute limit of what he himself could achieve.
But Nagato, who possessed those eyes, he could possess greater possibilities.
He could accomplish more.
So Hanzo wanted to try.
"I have already learned everything from 'Shadow.'"
Hanzo did not attempt to argue or justify his mistakes.
Meeting those Rinnegan eyes directly, he spoke word by word: "Colluding with Danzo to kill Yahiko was my fault. Destroying the Akatsuki was also my order."
He admitted it completely.
Calmly.
Without embellishment and without excuses.
Then Hanzo paused briefly, as though recalling something, before letting out a self-mocking laugh.
"I once encountered a samurai. While all of his comrades fled for their lives, that man knew full well he was no match for me, yet he still charged at me with his blade drawn."
"I defeated him. But his spirit, charging toward death without fear, moved me deeply."
"So I told him this: a person's end is not death, but the moment they lose their convictions."
"I said I would tell the world that he was a hero."
"But ironically…"
"When faced with fading vitality… fading strength… the threats surrounding me everywhere… and the fear of death…"
"I yielded."
"Through countless days of cowardly survival, I became weak. Timid. Fearful."
"I lost the beliefs and ideals I once possessed and became the very sort of coward I despised most."
The samurai Hanzo spoke of was none other than Mifune, the future general of the Land of Iron.
That was why Hanzo had spared Mifune in the end.
Moved by his courage and spirit, Hanzo had let him go.
The Hanzo of that time truly deserved the title of a strong man.
But there was no need to tell Nagato any of this.
Hanzo did not want Nagato to misunderstand and think he hoped to be spared just as he himself had once spared Mifune.
A mistake was a mistake.
The current Hanzo was once again the Hanzo of old.
He no longer needed excuses.
He could now calmly face the fear of death.
"I am not saying this to beg for your forgiveness."
Hanzo's expression and tone were utterly calm.
"I understand that all your suffering was caused by my own hands."
"After I die, whether you leave my corpse exposed in the wilderness…"
"Or erase my reputation and let my name be cursed by countless people…"
"Do as you wish. If it has meaning to you, then do it."
"I have only one request."
Looking at the still-silent Nagato and the dazed Konan, Hanzo slowly lowered his upright body.
"I have already entrusted my final testament to someone reliable. You can rightfully take control of Amegakure."
Hanzo spoke softly: "After my death, please lead Amegakure… lead this country drenched in suffering… toward the future Yahiko once described to you."
"I can no longer accomplish it. But you, who possess those eyes, you definitely can."
Yes.
Part of the reason for his current attitude was perhaps because of the mistakes he had committed in the past.
But more than that, it was for the sake of the country he cherished.
"..."
Time itself seemed to stop.
Silence filled the cave.
Looking at Hanzo, who had lowered himself nearly into the dirt, the ripples within Nagato's Rinnegan froze.
He had imagined countless possible reactions Hanzo might have upon facing judgment.
Desperate resistance.
Excuses and denial.
Begging for mercy.
Pathetic ugliness.
But he had never imagined this scene.
This was not any Hanzo he had ever known.
Not the proud and powerful Hanzo of the past, because that Hanzo would never bow his head.
Nor the aged and cowardly Hanzo from before, because that Hanzo would never willingly face death.
The current Hanzo was merely an old man willing to pay the price for the sins he had committed and calmly walk toward death.
Konan stared fixedly at Hanzo, blood vessels surfacing faintly in her eyes.
Once more, her mind returned to that night of torrential rain.
She remembered Yahiko resolutely rushing toward Nagato's raised kunai.
She remembered the faint sound of the blade piercing a heart.
She remembered the terror and collapse she felt at that moment.
Remembered the heart-wrenching screams of despair.
Remembered the Nagato now consumed by hatred…
"What is this supposed to mean?"
Konan's trembling voice shattered the silence.
An indescribable confusion filled her heart as she stared at Hanzo, her voice nearly hoarse.
"Then go die!"
The moment those words fell, Hanzo moved.
His movements were extremely fast.
Yet also calm and relieved.
He grasped the sickle in his hand,
The weapon symbolizing his former strength and pride.
The murderous blade that had taken countless lives.
And now, by his own hand, pouring all his strength into it, in a gesture almost resembling an embrace, he thrusted it toward his own chest.
Splurt…