The Shinobi World, the Land of Rain, on the outskirts of Amegakure.
Cold rain continued to scour the steel ruins without mercy.
At the mouth of a drainage pipe connected to the underground sewage system, murky mud mixed with rainwater gurgled out.
Suddenly, a pale hand covered in filth shot out of the pipe and clamped tightly onto its slippery rim.
Then another hand emerged.
With immense difficulty, a figure wriggled and crawled out of the narrow opening, inch by inch.
Thud!
At last, the figure rolled out of the pipe as though all his strength had failed him, landing on the muddy bank in a spray of filthy water.
It was Ōtsutsuki Isshiki, now so utterly bedraggled that almost nothing remained of his once imposing appearance.
His white robes were in tatters, covered in mud, blood, and unidentifiable filth.
A small section of the white curved horn on his head had snapped off, and cracks covered what remained.
The Byakugan in his left eye was dull and lifeless, while the golden, wheel-shaped pupil in his right glowed so faintly that it seemed ready to go out at any moment.
His face was as pale as paper. The corners of his mouth, his chest, his arms...
Dried and fresh blood stained him everywhere. His breathing was desperately weak, each breath accompanied by a hoarse wheeze, as though air were leaking from his lungs, and agonizing pain.
He lay on his back in the cold, muddy water, letting the rain strike his battered face. Only after a long while did he seem to gather a trace of strength. With great difficulty, he propped his upper body up on his elbows, inch by inch, and leaned against a wet chunk of concrete rubble.
"Cough... cough, cough..."
The violent coughing aggravated every injury