The Death of Hanzo

Hanzo the Salamander opened his eyes with difficulty amid a violent coughing fit and a burning agony in his chest and abdomen.

His vision was blurred at first, then slowly focused on the gray sky overhead, cut to pieces by steel pipes.

Cold rain struck his face, mingling with the bloody foam seeping from the corner of his mouth.

He struggled, using every last bit of strength in his body, before finally crawling out from beneath the twisted, warped heap of metal wreckage pinning him down.

Every movement tugged at the wound in his abdomen, sending pain boring into him.

He looked down and saw that the armor covering his stomach had already shattered and fallen away. On the exposed skin, a clear, dark-purple bruised footprint stood out in shocking detail.

It was the "souvenir" left by that monk in white robes, from one casual kick just now.

Worse still, he could feel that the salamander poison sac transplanted into his body when he was young, which had long since become one with him, had ruptured under that heavy blow.

The lethal poison was slowly spreading through his meridians beyond his control, bringing waves of bone-corroding pain and an icy numbness.

He knew better than anyone what that meant.

His body had already entered its countdown to death.

"Cough—cough, cough—" He coughed up several more mouthfuls of sweet, fishy black blood, a trace of bitterness appearing on his face.

The enemy—

Was too strong.

So strong they could easily see through and evade the Iai Slash he took such pride in. So strong that one casual kick had sent him, the "Demigod of the Shinobi World," flying like a torn sack, without the slightest power to fight back.

And there were two such enemies!

A long-lost feeling, mixed with powerlessness