At the End of His Rope

At the very front of the battlefield, Sasori of the Red Sands was single-handedly "surrounding" the demigod Hanzo.

Of the hundred-plus puppets Sasori had unleashed, at least fifty or sixty had been destroyed in the fighting. Only half remained.

They were more than enough to surround Hanzo and keep him occupied.

Sasori knew exactly what his job was: hold Hanzo off and buy time for Uchiha Mai, their real heavy hitter, to recover.

If he could seriously injure Hanzo in the process, so much the better.

With a sickle in his left hand and a chain in his right, Hanzo wielded both weapons with ferocious skill. He occasionally threw in a Water Release Ninjutsu, and in moments, he had cleared the field.

But Hanzo felt no joy.

He had taken Uchiha Mai's Phantom Sword Dance head-on earlier, and his injuries were already severe.

Yet Uchiha Mai and the others, though wounded themselves, showed none of the steady decline in fighting strength Hanzo had expected from Ibuse's poison gas.

Hanzo stared at Sasori for a long moment. Then realization struck. His expression changed, and he cried out in alarm, "Sasori of the Red Sands... Sasori of the Red Sands...

"You're Chiyo's grandson. I finally understand."

Hanzo had long heard of Sasori and regarded him highly, but he had never believed the young man could pose a fatal threat to him.

Now he understood why Uchiha Mai and the others had dared to attack Amegakure again, and why they had remained calm when Ibuse released his poisonous mist.

Their confidence came from Sasori.

"Finally figured it out, old man?"

Sasori's gaze was predatory as he sized Hanzo up like a prized treasure. "Everyone in the Ninja World thinks I became a Jonin through Puppet Technique alone.

"They have no idea my skill