Chapter 79 - Hanzo vs. Kazane
Unexpected events have a way of crashing down precisely when one feels most in control.
"Lord Hanzo! Emergency! The Leaf's Kazane—he's stormed the village gates!"
A panicked Rain ninja burst into the hall, stumbling forward, his face pale and drenched in sweat. In his frantic state, he failed to notice that Hanzo wasn't wearing his protective mask. It didn't matter. The words alone were enough to make the air inside the hall grow tense.
"What?!"
Hanzo's sharp voice cracked through the chamber like thunder. His brows twitched, his face darkening with fury.
"I haven't even begun to hunt him, and he dares to bring the fight to me?"
A bitter laugh escaped his throat.
"Have I been dormant so long that these young dogs no longer remember what it means to fear the name Hanzo the Salamander?"
The fury boiled hotter in his blood. But as he turned to deliver orders, his eyes flicked toward the platform where Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan had fallen—
And what he saw made his heart skip a beat.
They were gone.
Not a trace remained. Not even the trail of blood Yahiko had spilled.
Hanzo's breath caught in his throat.
"Impossible."
He had watched them fall. The poison he exhaled should have rendered them unconscious, if not dead. They were already too weak to resist. They couldn't have simply disappeared.
"Could it be… Kazane?"
The name surfaced like an unwanted truth. He recalled what the Root operative had mentioned earlier—that Yahiko had encountered Kazane that morning.
And now, Yahiko had vanished, only to have Kazane storm Rain Village in the same hour?
The coincidence was too sharp to ignore.
But Hanzo gritted his teeth and shoved the thought aside. The poison would already be spreading through their systems. They wouldn't last long.
And now, Kazane was here—bold enough to enter the village alone.
"Fine. Let him come. I'll wring the truth from his corpse."
With that, Hanzo rose and strode from the hall, scythe slung across his back, his cloak fluttering behind him like a storm cloud.
---
"Three-Sword Style: 108 Pound Phoenix!"
Kazane swung his blades with lethal grace, launching a hurricane of compressed sword wind through the narrow village streets.
The arcs of force sliced through Rain ninja like paper, shattering rooftops, tearing up cobblestones, and collapsing entire buildings in their wake. Screams filled the air as the ground trembled beneath the force of his assault.
By the time Hanzo arrived at the scene, he was just in time to witness one of the rotating sword waves ripping through the sky toward him.
Ching!
Hanzo's hand shot to his scythe.
With a single precise slash, he cleaved the flying blade apart in mid-air, sending a shockwave across the courtyard.
"Kazane Hatake! Enough!"
Hanzo's voice boomed through the Rain, his fury undeniable.
He leapt down from the rooftop, landing with such force the earth cracked beneath his boots.
Scythe in hand, chakra flaring, Hanzo charged.
Steel clashed against steel with blinding speed.
Kazane met Hanzo's first strike head-on, their weapons screeching against one another as sparks erupted from the impact. Both men leapt back, only to charge again, their movements almost too fast for the eye to follow.
Hanzo was more than just a shinobi with deadly poison.
He was a master of the blade—once lauded across the nations for his unmatched close-combat prowess. It was said that even Mifune, the General of the Land of Iron and one of the greatest swordsmen of the age, had once lost to him in battle.
But today—
Hanzo had met someone far beyond his expectations.
Kazane fought like a living tempest. Every movement of his blade carried precision, every slash calculated to kill.
He wasn't just powerful—he was refined.
A true Swordmaster, wielding three blades at the same time.
Hanzo narrowed his eyes. This was no ordinary Jonin. This was a monster forged from discipline and experience far beyond his years.
"Damn it… he's this young and already this strong?"
Each clash pushed Hanzo further back.
Worse yet—Hanzo realized he was fighting with one arm tied behind his back.
He couldn't use his poison.
Couldn't summon his salamander.
Couldn't risk ninjutsu.
They were still in the village. His own people surrounded them. If he unleashed his full arsenal, it wouldn't just be Kazane who died—he'd slaughter half the Rain Village in the process.
But Kazane?
Kazane had no such restraint.
Every swing, every technique was brought forth with lethal intent, fully unrestrained.
The wind itself seemed to bend to his will.
And it was becoming clear—
Hanzo was at a disadvantage.
Even the smallest disadvantage could determine the outcome.
"Taijutsu—Two-Stage Scythe Slash!"
Hanzo narrowed his eyes and made a sudden move—deliberate, deceptive. He loosened his grip on his iconic scythe and allowed Kazane's blade to knock it from his hands, letting it spin away across the stone tiles of the ruined village plaza.
To any observer, it looked like a mistake—a rare blunder from the so-called Demi-God of the Rain.
But Kazane was no fool. The moment he saw the weapon fall, he stepped in for the kill, blades poised to strike.
That was when the trap sprung.
Tchk—whirr!
Hanzo's foot twisted sharply, yanking the hidden chain connected to the scythe's handle. The weapon snapped back toward him like a serpent, its blade curving mid-air—aimed directly for Kazane's exposed back.
It was a perfect feint.
The kind of maneuver that had earned Hanzo his title.
But—
"Three-Sword Style—Black Rope Dragon Twister!"
Kazane's stance changed in a heartbeat. With a sudden, powerful twist of his waist, he began to spin. Blades stretched out, his motion created a cyclone of steel and chakra.
The swirling storm of sword energy deflected the incoming scythe with a violent clang, redirecting its trajectory and forcing Hanzo to leap backward to avoid being caught in the violent whirlwind.
Dust kicked up in all directions. The wind howled.
When the storm finally settled, Kazane stood in the center of the crater, three blades lowered but ready.
Hanzo stood at the edge, panting, scythe back in hand, a thin cut traced across his cheek.
They stared at one another, motionless. For a moment, even the rain seemed to pause.
Hanzo gritted his teeth.
Huff… huff…
His breath was shallow. His shoulders rose and fell beneath the weight of exhaustion.
No matter how much chakra he conserved, no matter how well he fought, he couldn't ignore the truth creeping into his limbs—he was old.
Battlefields once felt like extensions of his body.
Now, they drained him.
He had never feared a blade more than his own failing stamina.
Fifty years of war. Fifty years of bloodshed. The weight of survival now clung to his bones like rust on iron.
Kazane, on the other hand, was barely winded.
The young swordsman stood firm, each movement precise, his eyes sharp and alert.
Time was on his side.
And Hanzo could feel it slipping through his fingers.
"Kazane…" Hanzo muttered, adjusting his breathing. "I'm about to go looking for you… and yet here you are…"
Kazane's eyes narrowed, sensing something odd in the phrasing.
"...Wait."
He took a step back, mentally retracing his own journey.
"I didn't mask my presence… but I also didn't leave a trail. I came straight here after crossing the border..."
"So how did Hanzo know I was coming?"
Additionally, no spies can't scape his notice.
Then the realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
This entire mission...
Was a setup.
The pieces clicked into place.
The urgency.
The way Hiruzen had pushed him to leave Konoha without rest.
The vague excuse about Hanzo "mobilizing forces."
The false promise of access to the Forbidden Scroll.
Sarutobi Hiruzen… Danzo Shimura… those two bastards sent me here to die.
But Kazane didn't let the anger consume him.
He would settle that score later.
Right now—
There was still a battle to finish.
Hanzo straightened slightly, suppressing his fatigue, and spoke with a heavy breath.
"Kazane Hatake, I acknowledge your strength."
"You are worthy of the name your clan once bore… You have become the new White Fang of Konoha."
He let the words hang in the air.
"We share no personal enmity. I gain nothing from killing you."
"Leave now, and I will pretend this battle never happened. No Rain ninja will follow. No vendetta will be held."
It was a rare gesture—for Hanzo to offer peace.
But this was not out of mercy.
This was survival.
Yahiko was already dead. His objective had been achieved. But this fight? It had dragged on longer than anticipated.
And Kazane was not the type of enemy he could afford to battle carelessly.
If this continued, the very Rain Village Hanzo sought to protect might fall in the crossfire, and as much as he hates to admit it, he fear Kazane's blade.
He had to think bigger.
If Kazane truly understood what Hiruzen and Danzo had done to him—then perhaps… he would take revenge for Hanzo.
Let the dogs of Konoha devour one another.
"Walk away," Hanzo said, quieter now. "And we both live."
"Did you just call me the new White Fang?"
Kazane chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it.
His voice turned cold.
"Do I look like White Fang to you?"
"Because if I remember correctly… your Rain ninja were part of the reason he ended his own life."
Kazane's hands tightened around his blades.
"I was sent here to kill you. That's the mission my Hokage gave me."
"But I see now... This mission was never about peace or politics—it was an execution order."
"And you—"
"You're already dead."
His aura exploded outward, a tsunami of killing intent that blanketed the battlefield like a suffocating fog.
It pressed down on Hanzo's shoulders, made the air feel thick, heavy.
There would be no mercy.
No retreat.
This battle was about more than just survival.
This was a declaration.
A message to Hiruzen… to Danzo… and to the entire shinobi world:
"I am Kazane Hatake. I don't take orders. I give them."