"The Ame front… lost!?"
Tsunade's face went pale. She waved her hands frantically.
"Wait—what do you mean lost!? We destroyed the Suna's main camp! How could we lose? And you—why did you use Reverse Summoning? Don't tell me this was a trap!"
Orochimaru's pupils trembled faintly.
"Yes. A trap," he replied coldly. "It was set up by a shinobi who wields Magnet Style, and… he has a contract with Ryūchi Cave. Manda recognized his chakra signature when we returned. That shinobi is the Third Kazekage of Sunagakure."
"The Third Kazekage?" Tsunade gasped. "Then that means the Second Kazekage is… dead?"
Orochimaru nodded.
"Dead—and his successor is even more terrifying. He created a barrier that enveloped the entire battlefield, and none of us sensed it until it was too late. Then he unleashed an overwhelming flood of Iron Sand. The whole battlefield was within his attack range. We suffered catastrophic losses.
I had Manda break a gap through the barrier and distract him for a short time. Some of our troops should have escaped, but we must be prepared for the worst."
He glanced back toward the smoke-wreathed horizon.
"For now, we regroup at our former encampment and send word to Konoha immediately. The Suna and Ame pursuit won't arrive too soon—we still have a little time to prepare."
Orochimaru began moving at once, carrying Jiraiya on his shoulder. Tsunade and the others followed close behind. Jiraiya's face was still full of disbelief.
"Hold on—are you saying that Kazekage's that strong? Even Hanzō couldn't pull off something like that! To alter the entire battlefield with one jutsu—are you sure you weren't caught in a genjutsu?"
"I wouldn't joke about something like this," Orochimaru said, his voice low. "That jutsu was a meat grinder. If it were in an iron-rich region, he could single-handedly wipe out a force of ten thousand.
The surviving troops are retreating now… but I don't know how many will make it back. His ability to fly gives him absolute dominance—I couldn't even reach him, only endure the bombardment."
He looked back sharply.
"Remember this: never fight a Magnet Style user in a desert or mining area. Against that kind of shinobi, it's a one-in-ten chance of survival at best."
The group fell silent, trudging through the rain and mud, the weight of defeat pressing down on them.
They had to reorganize what was left of their forces and fall back to the border of the Land of Fire.
One of the shinobi summoned a messenger hawk.
Tsunade quickly sealed a scroll, tied it to the bird's leg, and released it into the stormy sky.
---
Konoha Forward Command, Rain Country
*Nara Rokujin—commander of the Konoha strategy division—held an urgent letter in trembling hands. The veins on his forehead bulged.
"The Third Tsuchikage is dead, and the Third Kazekage might be in the Rain front!?
Why are we only learning this now!? Do they not understand what a single Kage-level combatant can do to a battlefield!?"
Akimichi Torifu, standing beside him, tried to calm him down.
"Easy, Rokujin. A Kage may be strong, but even they can't overturn an entire army's momentum by themselves. We have numbers on our side—believe in Jiraiya and the others."
"No," Rokujin replied, his tone grave. "You don't understand. The Ame and Suna have formed an alliance. If Hanzō and the Kazekage appear together… Jiraiya and his team are walking into certain death.
When the Hokage arrives, how am I supposed to explain this!?"
He gritted his teeth. "Enough. There's no time to argue. Evacuate everyone to the Fire Country border immediately. The Hokage himself is already on his way. Reinforcements will join us there.
Prepare for the worst. If Jiraiya's team falls, you and I will take the field ourselves—we'll cover the retreat. I led this army here; I won't let them all die in the Rain Country."
Torifu frowned. "You're panicking. It's just one more Kage—we still have thousands of troops. You're overestimating—"
"No," Rokujin interrupted, his voice cold and certain.
"You have no idea what a 'Kage' truly means. Each one can reshape the course of a war alone.
My grandfather once witnessed a battle between the First and Second Hokage. When I was a child, a friend from the Yamanaka clan linked me to his memory through Mind Transfer Jutsu.
I saw it—mountains swallowed by water, forests ripped apart by a single jutsu. Even through the memory, my body trembled uncontrollably. That… is the terror of a Kage."
Torifu swallowed. "That was the First Hokage—the God of Shinobi. The others can't possibly be that strong…"
"Even so, a Kage is the mightiest force of every village," Rokujin said quietly. "We plan for the worst. Let's go. We'll move to intercept Orochimaru's forces and support the retreat. Staying here won't help anyone."
The two men set off at once, gathering their squads. Behind them, Konoha soldiers began hastily packing supplies and dismantling the camp.
---
Amegakure Headquarters
Hanzō had just returned to his office when one of his subordinates, his aide, Rinbyō, came to report.
"While you were gone, my lord, everything remained stable. A kunoichi came with a special authorization seal requesting funding. You weren't here, so she left. Nothing else unusual occurred."
"Understood." Hanzō leaned back in his chair, his tone pensive.
"Rinbyō, you're familiar with our village's current structure. How many trained medical-nin do we have, and how skilled are they?"
Rinbyō hesitated. "Very few—fewer than thirty, my lord. Their abilities are… passable for minor injuries."
Hanzō exhaled through his mask. Another problem.
On the way back from the front, several wounded had died before even reaching the hospital. If he'd had medical-nin during the battle, more might have lived.
The question had haunted him ever since: how could Amegakure build a proper medical system?
"I've inspected our hospital," he said at last. "Most of the staff are ordinary doctors and nurses—barely capable of handling a shinobi's wounds. The critical window for rescue passes on the battlefield itself. By the time they reach the hospital, it's too late.
Ordinary treatment is too slow and risks infection. We need to form a dedicated medical corps."
Rinbyō bowed his head. "My lord… forming one will be extremely difficult.
Training a medical-nin requires exceptional chakra control. Those with such talent are far more suited for direct combat. The training alone takes years—and on the battlefield, medical-nin are primary targets, needing constant protection.
We lack the time, manpower, and even proper instruction. Our only healing technique is the basic Healing Jutsu. And most of all…" He hesitated. "…we don't have the funding to sustain a medical corps."
Hanzō regarded him for a moment. The analysis was clear and logical—no wonder his predecessor had trusted this man with administrative matters.
"Did I mention the compensation materials we're receiving from Sunagakure?" he asked, taking a scroll from his desk and tossing it to Rinbyō. "Take a look."
Rinbyō unrolled it—and his eyes widened.
"This… this is nearly half a year's tax revenue for the entire Rain Country!"
"Exactly. That's enough capital," Hanzō said. "Manpower and expertise are the next problems. Without skilled guidance, medical training will be too slow."
He smiled faintly. "As for instructors—I already have someone in mind."
He handed over another scroll.
Rinbyō scanned it. "An orphanage? But this… allocates so many supplies!"
"If we divert that much to orphans," he protested, "our medical training program will last only six months before the compensation runs dry! Shouldn't we—cut back, at least?"
Hanzō's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Tell me, how do you feel when you see the orphans begging in the streets?"
Rinbyō faltered. "…But, my lord… if we lose the next war, all of this will be meaningless."
His gaze dimmed. "I was one of those orphans you rescued, so I understand. But right now, our priority should be the war effort. The medical program can continue—but the orphanage must have its budget reduced, or we'll have nothing left."
"You're forgetting the death benefits owed to the fallen," Hanzō said flatly.
Rinbyō froze. "Ah…"
"Relax," Hanzō said, a wry smile curling beneath his mask. "The war's already over."
"What?"
"I killed the Third Tsuchikage myself. Iwagakure is in chaos—their border troops are demoralized. They won't be attacking anytime soon. By the time they elect a Fourth, the Ame front will be long finished.
If they do come, they'll face the full might of the Ame—and by then, the Suna will be moving against them too."
He leaned forward.
"Konoha's finished as well. Our alliance with the Suna has crippled them. Out of six thousand troops, fewer than two thousand escaped.
I returned here to coordinate the pursuit. With the other three Great Nations pressing them, Konoha can't spare any reinforcements."
He straightened. "I want you to form special operations squads—not for battle, but for raiding. When the Sand and I attack the Land of Fire, they'll bypass the main front and strike its cities directly.
No mercy. The Fire Country's wealth has funded every war that's bled us dry. It's time we collected our interest."
Rinbyō stared in shock. "Lord Hanzō… then we've won? The years of endless fighting… finally over?"
Hanzō nodded. "Yes. Iwa and Konoha are exhausted, and the Suna is our ally. Victory is ours."
"With the Fire Country's resources," Rinbyō said, excitement rising in his voice, "those raiding squads could fund our programs for over a year! The village's living conditions could finally improve!"
Hanzō chuckled. "Don't forget what I told Iwagakure before I left their camp—they still owe us for our assistance. If they refuse to pay, I'll visit their daimyō myself.
I'm only collecting a little interest—nothing unreasonable. If they have any sense, they'll understand."
Rinbyō grinned. "Understood, my lord. I'll make the arrangements right away. Also… I'd like to expand the shinobi academy. The current facilities are too small and outdated. If we can spare resources, I'd like to renovate."
"Good idea," Hanzō said approvingly. "Handle it as you see fit. It's time the Amegakure began to grow."
"Yes, my lord." Rinbyō bowed deeply and left.
---
Alone in the quiet office, Hanzō looked out at the misty cityscape.
"War… brings profit beyond imagination. No wonder the Five Great Nations never stop.
But walk the river long enough, and even they'll get their feet wet."
He turned toward the window, eyes gleaming beneath his mask.
"This time, they'll pay the price.
Time to begin the pursuit. The Ame has been ready since before the first drop fell."