Under the effect of the Demonic Mirror Ice Formation, Mizuki Ryosuke and Hoshigaki Kisame blended seamlessly into the darkness beneath the mirrored ice. Their forms were concealed perfectly, making them indistinguishable from their surroundings.
As the two advanced deeper through the corridors of Hanzō's mansion, passing through one structure after another, Kisame's sharp eyes continuously scanned every corner.
"One, two…"
Whenever Kisame's gaze swept over a shadowy recess, it signified that he had detected a hidden Amegakure shinobi.
He silently counted the number of Rain Shinobi lying in ambush, his mind gradually weighing their chances of escaping should they be exposed. Unlike the common rabble serving under Sanjō Mio, these hidden shinobi were of an entirely different caliber.
Each of them, from their positioning and controlled chakra presence, was undoubtedly on the level of an elite Jōnin from the major villages.
Five enemies— Kisame could ensure a clean victory with minimal effort.
Ten enemies— Kisame would sustain minor injuries before taking them down.
Twenty enemies— Kisame would be pushed to his limits in an escape attempt.
Fifty enemies— Kisame was certain to die.
From the moment they entered the mansion, Kisame had already counted over twenty elite Rain Shinobi stationed throughout the compound. Given his estimates, the true number hiding in the shadows was likely twice that amount, if not more.
It was clear that these shinobi were the backbone of Hanzō of the Salamander's power, the reason he dared to challenge the might of the Great Nations.
Thinking of this, cold sweat formed on Kisame's forehead. If they were discovered, survival was nearly impossible.
His gaze shifted toward Mizuki Ryosuke. The man's expression was unchanged, his pace steady and unhurried, as if he were merely taking a stroll through a garden.
Seeing this, Kisame thought of the unfathomable Fourth Mizukage, Yagura Karatachi, and his tension gradually eased. If Ryosuke was unshaken, there was no need to panic.
"As expected of Lord Ryosuke…"
With silent admiration, Kisame's initial apprehension gave way to a rising sense of excitement. To accompany Mizuki Ryosuke in such a perilous situation was an honor few could claim.
Unknowingly, still hidden under the Demonic Mirror Ice Formation, they reached the innermost courtyard of the mansion.
Unlike the previous gloomy chambers, this space was different. There was no oppressive darkness, no suffocating presence of hidden killers—only the serene elegance of a traditional Japanese garden.
The courtyard was an open-air space, enclosed by wooden rooms with sliding paper doors, a design common in Amegakure's aristocratic residences. Rare plants, native only to the Land of Rain, thrived in the damp environment, their leaves glistening under the constant drizzle.
Ryosuke and Kisame stopped at the center of the courtyard.
Ahead, the screen door of the main chamber was wide open.
Inside, a man sat in a formal seiza posture, dressed in a black raincoat. His long green hair cascaded over his shoulders, and a strange respirator covered the lower half of his face, emitting deep, rhythmic sounds with each breath.
"Huuuuu…"
"Hooooo…"
The peculiar noise filled the quiet courtyard.
Mizuki Ryosuke's gaze locked onto the man, observing him intently.
From his features and presence, there was no doubt—this was none other than Hanzō of the Salamander, the legendary leader of Amegakure.
Then, in an instant, Hanzō's eyes snapped open.
Without a word, the warlord of the Land of Rain slowly turned his head, his cold gaze fixated on the exact spot where Ryosuke and Kisame were concealed.
Had they been discovered?
His eyes were as still as a placid lake, calm and unwavering.
Yet, they held an undeniable intensity.
For a brief moment, Ryosuke and Hanzō's eyes met.
The same unshakable calm.
The same unreadable depths.
But unlike Hanzō, Ryosuke's eyes revealed the faintest hint of surprise.
At that moment, a thought surfaced in Ryosuke's mind—a lesson from an ancient text:
"One whose chest rumbles with thunder but whose face remains as still as a mirror may be worthy of worship as a general."
Beside him, Kisame's grip tightened around Samehada, his instincts warning him of imminent danger.
Since acquiring Samehada from the Sealed Scroll, he had rarely felt the need to draw it. But now, his fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt, prepared for the worst.
Then, unexpectedly, Ryosuke raised a hand, silently motioning for him to stand down.
Kisame hesitated but ultimately obeyed.
At that moment, Hanzō's voice, muffled through his respirator, echoed through the courtyard.
"Come out, uninvited guests."
Kisame's heart skipped a beat.
Hanzō's expression remained unchanged, his gaze still fixed precisely at their position, as if he could see them through their perfect camouflage.
Yet, on Ryosuke's side, there was no fear—only excitement.
Hanzō was not bluffing.
"I was right."
A rare glimmer of satisfaction flashed through Ryosuke's eyes.
Then—SNAP!
Ryosuke raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The Demonic Mirror Ice Formation shattered, its illusion peeling away like a film strip torn from the air.
In an instant, Mizuki Ryosuke and Hoshigaki Kisame materialized in the center of the courtyard.
Hanzō, however, did not react. His gaze remained unchanged, as if he had already foreseen this exact outcome.
Ryosuke smirked.
"How did you see through it?"
There was no panic in his voice—only curiosity.
Hanzō did not hesitate. He simply lifted a finger and tapped his ear.
"Since I was fourteen years old, I have meditated in this courtyard every day."
"The sound of the raindrops falling here is engraved into my very soul."
"Tonight, the raindrops told me that I had guests."
As his hoarse voice echoed through the courtyard, Ryosuke's eyes lit up with realization.
So that's how it is…
The Demonic Mirror Ice Formation was a visual deception technique, using prismatic reflections to seamlessly blend into the environment. It could perfectly replicate the falling rain, ensuring that visually, there were no distortions.
However, what it could not disguise—was the sound.
The slight irregularity in the raindrops' rhythm, barely perceptible to anyone else, had been enough for Hanzō to detect them immediately.
A flaw so small, yet lethal in the presence of a master.
Before tonight, only Uchiha Madara had ever seen through this technique.
Now, Hanzō of the Salamander joined that exclusive list.
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