Hanzō knelt on one knee at the edge of the crater, his armor shattered into pieces, battered beyond repair.
His kusarigama lay among the distant ruins, residual lightning crackling around its blade.
A vast, charred burn spread from his shoulder down his entire arm, a horrifying sight.
His breathing was faint and unsteady. Though grievously wounded, he stubbornly clung to life.
He struggled to rise, forcing his ravaged body upright.
His knees buckled several times, nearly sending him crashing down, but he finally gritted his teeth and stood firm.
He made no move to retrieve his distant kusarigama. He simply stood there in silence, raising his head to look at the black-haired young man across the crater.
"...Amamiya Maki. I'll remember you!"
Hanzō slowly closed his eyes. He had lost.
But Konoha had not won, either. There was no way he would surrender unconditionally!
In the end, the ceasefire agreement still had to be signed.
No matter how fiercely Hanzō denied it, he had still lost.
What he could not gain on the battlefield, he could not gain at the negotiating table, either.
On the day the ceasefire agreement was signed, countless civilians of the Land of Rain even lined the streets in welcome.
The former site of Great Love City welcomed its first returning refugees.
They were survivors who had trekked all the way back from the border of the Land of Iron.
A-Tie walked at the head of the group, carrying a hoe over his shoulder.
The armband on his left arm had faded from days of soaking rain, but it remained clearly visible.
The Great Love Society's cicada armband remained his source of strength.
Yunai followed close behind him, carrying a rolled-up, brand-new patchwork flag.
The fabric was hardly fine. It had been sewn from scraps gathered