One man had short black hair and wore a black robe. His face was gloomy, and he looked like a scheming sort.
The other wore a gas mask, with only his eyes showing. It was impossible to read his expression.
Danzo and Hanzo.
Through a pair of binoculars, the two watched Rasa slowly approach from outside the village entrance.
Each step was exactly the same distance apart, neither hurried nor slow, utterly unruffled. The assassination attempt earlier seemed to have happened tens of thousands of years ago, long since forgotten.
Raindrops pattered against Rasa's hat and cloak. Amid the slanting drizzle, he strode forward with such force that he seemed to cover a thousand miles in a day, as if he had crossed into another lifetime.
"It seems your Root didn't accomplish a thing. He doesn't look injured," Hanzo said as he peered through the binoculars.
"A bunch of good-for-nothings."
Danzo snorted, his eyes dark and his voice hoarse. "But this was what I expected.
"Rumor has it his Magnet Release lets him control all metal. He must carry some with him, so a few dozen men using wooden ninja tools would be useless.
"To truly kill him, either someone as strong as you or me would have to make a move personally, or we'd need to bury him beneath thousands—perhaps even tens of thousands—of shinobi. His chakra has to run out eventually.
"This merely confirmed it."
Hanzo lowered the binoculars and glanced at Shimura Danzo. "If you expected this outcome, why send an elite squad to their deaths?
"Even if you control Root, you're not the Hokage. Surely this was a considerable loss for you, too."
"It's not impossible for a squad of shinobi to kill Rasa. It's just so unlikely as to be almost impossible."
Danzo's expression remained