Chapter 68: The Fate of a Weak Nation
Hanzō slumped in the great chair of the Rain Shadow, one hand propping up his head, bloodshot eyes filled with despair.
This gamble against Konoha—once again, the Rain had lost!
He had staked nearly everything on this wager, short of marching onto the battlefield himself. Yet the result was still utter defeat.
Years of careful recovery and stockpiling, the Rain's hard-won elite, the once-in-a-generation prodigy Senkiri Ryōsuke, even the Six-Tails' jinchūriki Utakata whom he had bought with coin—
Gone. All of it gone.
Hanzō's eyes bulged with fury as he stared at the map of Amegakure spread before him. He knew all too well: this current border line was only temporary. Once word spread that the Rain's strength had been gutted, Konoha and Sunagakure—those two jackals—would waste no time in striking a peace treaty.
And peace meant what? Nothing but carving up the Land of Rain.
The Land of Rain… his Land of Rain. The life's work of Hanzō of the Salamander.
This land of mud and endless storms, spurned by every other nation, was the stage where Hanzō had carved out survival in the cracks between titans. He had allied with Suna to counter Konoha, then turned to Konoha to balance Suna and Kumo. The Rain's foreign policy had always been this nimble, for one reason only: survival.
To exist—that was everything. And everything was for existence.
Yahiko stood beside him, face shadowed with grief—not only for their homeland, but for Nagato most of all.
According to the ANBU who had returned, Nagato's corpse had been confirmed. His younger brother was truly gone. And those eyes… no doubt Konoha had already taken them.
Konoha. Konoha! The name seared into Yahiko's heart. For this nation, he would never rest until vengeance was his.
"Peace."
Hanzō's hoarse voice broke the silence, calling Yahiko by his codename.
Yahiko froze, then quickly bowed his head.
"Ryōsuke is dead. From now on, you will serve as… no, not Foreign Minister. There will be no need for such titles anymore. You will serve as ANBU Commander."
Hanzō caught himself mid-sentence. Without the strength even to raid, what need was there for diplomats?
"Yes, Lord Hanzō. I will fulfill my duty."
Yahiko accepted the post, his face expressionless. Once, such a title would have filled him with joy. But now—what was left to lead? The Rain itself stood on the edge of collapse.
Hanzō, unable to see the truth behind the mask Yahiko wore, seemed suddenly aged. White hairs had sprung forth like mushrooms after the rain, and in just a few days he looked ten years older.
He spoke on, rambling like an old man burdened with regrets.
"Once you take office, gather a team for foreign missions. Petition Suna and Kumo for aid. If they harass Konoha's borders, we may have a chance to quietly recover…"
"And the price?" Yahiko cut him off, his voice sharp. "If we ask Suna and Kumo to act, what will it cost us?"
"This… this…" Hanzō faltered, his gaze sinking back to the map of the Land of Rain, his expression twisted with pain.
The copper mines along the Konoha border were surely lost. If they sought aid from other great nations, the Rain would not escape being bled dry. In the end, aside from Amegakure itself, what land would remain?
"What do you think we should do?" Hanzō asked, weary eyes fixed on his new ANBU commander.
Yahiko traced the map with a steady hand, his eyes flashing with a ruthless clarity.
"Suna and Konoha have fought too long. Their strength is already worn thin. If we keep jumping between sides, the village will be destroyed for certain."
"That's why—we must throw ourselves fully behind Kumogakure. Whatever the Third Raikage demands, we give it. Whatever he asks for, we pay it."
Yahiko's words were cold, but they were the only rational choice left.
On the border between the Land of Iron and the Cloud lay a silver mine—an essential pillar of the Rain's finances. And the Third Raikage, A, had coveted it for years.
The situation had reached the point where cutting flesh to survive was inevitable. Gold, land, even women—whatever had to be sacrificed for the Rain's survival, so be it. The bottles and jars of pride could be smashed without hesitation.
"Do as you said. As for Suna, I'll handle them."
Hanzō rose to his feet. The Rain Shadow's will hardened once more. Mask in place, blade at his side, he stepped into the rainstorm and vanished into the misty downpour.
The great hall fell silent. Only Yahiko remained, fingertips tracing the worn map of the Land of Rain.
Then, a voice sounded behind him.
"Do you hate Konoha?"
"Who's there!" Yahiko snapped, drawing his blade in alarm. For someone to enter the Rain Shadow's office without a sound—it was no ordinary intruder.
From the floor, a white body emerged, its yellow eyes set in a face marked with tree-ring patterns. White Zetsu.
"I asked you a question. Do you hate Konoha?" His tone was sharp, impatient.
"Of course I hate them!" Yahiko's eyes narrowed. He had no idea what this creature wanted, but his answer was firm.
"For the sake of peace, how far are you willing to go?" Zetsu pressed.
"Even at the cost of my life. But who are you? How did you get in here?"
Zetsu waved a hand dismissively. "Rain Shadow? Don't kid yourself. Amegakure is a husk. The great Rain Village has only a few hundred shinobi left. What kind of 'Kage' is that?"
Yahiko's grip faltered on his sword. "This is only temporary. The Land of Rain will—"
"—start lying to yourself already?" Zetsu cut him off, his grin crooked. "Let me tell you a secret. The Suna delegation has already arrived in Konoha. Guess what they're discussing?"
What else could it be? Unconditional peace, of course. Peace meant carving the Land of Rain into pieces so the victors could fatten themselves again.
Yahiko slowly lowered his blade. "How do you know this?"
"That's not your concern. I only ask—will you take your brother's eyes and seek vengeance against Konoha? If you agree, I'll continue feeding you intelligence on the shinobi world. I'll even help you rebuild Amegakure."
Zetsu's words were blunt. He didn't understand the subtleties of human hearts. He only needed chaos.
Madara's Eye of the Moon Plan demanded a world in turmoil, a ladder built of strife for him to climb. But Konoha's current momentum was all wrong. Their victories abroad had frightened every neighbor into silence. Stability—that was the enemy of Uchiha Madara's design.
Yahiko stood frozen. At length, he nodded heavily.
"…Fine."
A flash of glee lit Zetsu's strange face. He opened the link to Madara, requesting permission.
Moments later, approval came. A summoning array rippled across the floor, and from its glow rose a pair of violet Rinnegan.
"Take them. At first they'll overwhelm you, but soon enough, you'll know what it means to wield the power of a god."
Zetsu presented them as if offering a sacred treasure.
Madara had little choice. After years of searching, only the Rain produced a candidate that fit. Yahiko wasn't as perfect as Nagato—but when the field is full of dwarfs, even the tallest must be chosen.
Yahiko didn't hesitate. With grim resolve, he gouged out his own eyes and replaced them with the violet orbs.
As the transplant settled, Zetsu finally exhaled in relief. This blazing-hot burden was off his hands. Every second wasted risked Madara's plans collapsing.
"How do you feel?"
"…Stronger than ever before."
Yahiko's voice rang deep. He unleashed the force of repulsion, lifting himself from the ground. Zetsu, forced to crane his neck upward, stared at him in awe.
"These are my brother's eyes. With them, I will fulfill his will. With these eyes, I will bring true peace to the shinobi world!"