Chapter 78 - The Death of Yahiko (Final)
The tension in the banquet hall was subtle—hidden beneath silver platters, ceremonial wine, and hollow words. But death was already at the table, wearing the face of a host.
No one noticed it when Hanzo briefly lifted his mask to sip the wine.
They should have.
Because the danger wasn't in the drink.
The real poison… was in the air.
Hanzo, the legendary Salamander of the Rain, didn't rely on crude toxins laced into food or wine. That would be far too obvious—easily detected by the keen senses of shinobi trained to sniff out betrayal.
No. Hanzo's weapon was far more insidious.
The venom sac implanted into his chest as a child continuously released a deadly, invisible toxin—one that seeped from his lungs with every breath. Tasteless, odorless, and colorless, it spread across the room like a ghost, slowly entering the lungs of everyone who dared share the same air.
Had the Akatsuki trio trusted their instincts more than their ideals, they might have noticed the tightening in their chests, the sudden heaviness in their limbs.
But they were too focused on diplomacy… on hope.
Hanzo watched them with sharp eyes, his smile never faltering.
"Impressive, Yahiko," he said, raising his glass once more. "You truly have a bold spirit."
Yahiko nodded, forcing a courteous smile as he set his goblet down. "You flatter me, Lord Hanzo. But let's not waste time—how do you plan to cooperate with us?"
He was still cautious, but his judgment was already clouded. The effects of the poison were subtle—barely noticeable at first. A slight chill. A fading sharpness in thought. A slow narrowing of the breath.
Hanzo leaned back in his chair, folding his gloved hands before him.
"No need to rush, Yahiko," he said, his voice rich with false warmth. "Before we speak of peace, let me tell you a story. A very personal one."
He wasn't buying time. He was killing them slowly.
With every breath they took, they were edging closer to the threshold of death.
And as he began to speak, his voice took on the slow, heavy tone of a man confessing something sacred—almost nostalgic.
"Long ago, in a nameless village torn apart by war… there was a child. A child born with no power, no privilege. Only misfortune.
"In that village, a legendary salamander died. Its corpse was discovered by a passing shinobi—a man who believed that strength could be harvested… if one was bold enough."
Hanzo's eyes narrowed as he continued, watching Yahiko and the others squirm, subtly shifting in their seats.
"The shinobi decided to transplant the beast's poison sac into a living human—to see if it was possible for a man to wield the deadly power of the salamander.
"He chose a child. And the surgery was a success.
"But the shinobi… died from the very poison he had implanted.
"And the child?
"He lived. But his breath became death.
"His own parents, simply by holding him… fell ill and died.
"The villagers, fearing his presence, cursed him. Hated him. Called him a monster.
"They pelted his house with rotten food and stones."
"And that child… survived by eating the very scraps they threw at him."
A deep, unsettling pause filled the room. The silence pressed on Yahiko's chest like a weight.
The air was starting to feel thick.
Konan's fingers twitched slightly. Her brows furrowed. Something wasn't right.
But Hanzo wasn't finished.
"The boy grew stronger. Hardened. Until one day, he was found by a Rain Village shinobi and brought here. Trained. Sharpened like a blade.
"And in the Second Great Ninja War, that boy became the shield of an entire nation.
"He stood alone against the combined might of the Leaf, the Sand, and the Stone.
"And he did not fall."
Hanzo leaned forward, and in that moment, his calm façade cracked.
His voice deepened.
His tone turned to steel.
"That child was me, Yahiko."
Yahiko's eyes widened—not because he was surprised, but because the story's bitterness was starting to make sense.
The pride. The poison. The fear in Hanzo's eyes masked as strength.
But Hanzo wasn't telling this story to garner sympathy.
He was building to something else—something final.
"And now…" Hanzo continued, standing from his seat slowly, the plates rattling softly as he moved.
"That child has grown old. He has lived through hell, bled for this village, and forged peace from ash and bone."
He stepped forward, his boots echoing against the polished stone floor.
"But that peace… is under threat."
His eyes locked with Yahiko's.
"There are whispers in the streets. Discontent. Hope. All because of you."
"You claim to want peace… but I see only instability in your ideals.
"And so, I invited you here today, not to negotiate…
"But to ensure you never threaten my Rain again."
His words struck like lightning.
Nagato clenched his fists.
Yahiko's eyes flared with realization.
Konan gasped—finally feeling the tightness in her chest, the weakness in her arms.
The poison had taken hold.
Hanzo removed his mask completely now, letting the venomous air flow freely.
The atmosphere thickened into a silent executioner.
And with a smirk beneath his eyes, Hanzo said—
"From the moment you stepped inside… your deaths were already decided."
Yahiko's world tilted.
The breath he took seconds ago now felt like it was burning his lungs from the inside out. His hand gripped the table edge as he tried to rise—but his knees buckled, his muscles turned to liquid.
"You… want to kill me?" Yahiko gasped, trying to steady his voice.
His heart pounded, not from fear—but from the deep sting of betrayal. "Wasn't this supposed to be an alliance…?"
Hanzo remained silent. He didn't deny it. He didn't offer excuses. The smile on his face twisted into something monstrous, cold and gloating.
Yahiko's vision blurred, and every movement felt like a battle. He realized it then—he wasn't just weak. He was dying.
"You… poisoned me?!" he choked out.
Konan clutched her throat as her body trembled, a mixture of shock and sickness overtaking her. Her pupils dilated, limbs refusing to move the way they should.
Beside her, Nagato swayed, gripping the edge of a pillar as his fingers twitched uncontrollably.
"You bastard!" he growled, forcing himself to stay upright—but the moment he took a step forward, he crumpled to one knee.
"You all walked into this yourselves," Hanzo said calmly, his voice as steady as ever. "I simply offered you a seat. Your foolish belief in peace made you drink from the cup."
He stepped closer, his heavy boots echoing ominously across the stone floor.
"Do you think ideals alone can protect a country?"
He stared down at Yahiko with the grim authority of a man hardened by decades of war.
"During the Second Great Ninja War, when three great nations surrounded Rain and prepared to erase it from the map, it wasn't dreams or speeches that saved us."
Hanzo pointed to his chest.
"It was this strength. My power. My sacrifice. I alone kept this land breathing. If I had been weak—if I had waited for peace—we would have been slaughtered."
He knelt beside Yahiko, looking him in the eyes—eyes clouded now with pain and regret.
"You aren't a savior. You're a disease."
And without hesitation, Hanzo pulled a kunai from his pouch and hurled it toward Yahiko's chest.
The blade spun through the air—not fast, not graceful, but it didn't need to be.
Yahiko was paralyzed.
Shnk.
The kunai buried itself deep into his chest.
Blood welled up in Yahiko's mouth as he fell backward, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings severed.
"Yahiko!"
Konan screamed, crawling to him through trembling limbs. Her arms shook as she reached out, trying to hold him—trying to stop the blood that poured from his wound.
"Yahiko, hold on! Stay with us!" Nagato's voice cracked as he fell beside them, gripping his brother's hand.
The world blurred at the edges for Yahiko. Each breath came slower than the last. He looked at them—at Konan's tear-streaked face, at Nagato's desperate gaze—and smiled, even through the blood on his lips.
"Nagato…"
His voice was weak, trembling.
"You must protect her… protect Konan..."
He coughed, blood staining his chin.
"I was wrong..."
"Kazane… Kazane was right…"
He tried to laugh, but it came out broken and raw.
"Peace… needs power."
"And I… I had none."
He looked into Nagato's eyes.
"Don't… chase revenge."
"But… if you want to change the world…"
"Then you must become strong enough… to never kneel again."
His hand trembled as he reached for Konan's. His lips moved slowly.
"She's… yours now."
And with one final breath—
Yahiko's eyes lost their light.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Nagato's heart shattered.
The weight of Yahiko's death pressed on him like a mountain, crushing every thought, every belief. He couldn't cry. The pain was too deep for tears.
His hand clenched around Yahiko's cooling fingers.
And then…
Something snapped.
A flicker.
A pulse.
A storm.
Nagato's Rinnegan surged with blinding energy. Chakra surged around his body—wild, unrestrained, like a dam had broken.
Hanzo stepped back, his expression shifting from satisfaction to alarm.
"What…?"
The air around Nagato twisted violently.
A single word escaped his lips.
"Shinra Tensei."
An invisible force exploded from his palm like a bomb.
The banquet hall groaned under the pressure. The stone beneath them cracked. Hanzo was hurled backward like a ragdoll, slamming into a pillar with a crash that echoed through the chamber.
The Rain shinobi stationed outside felt the ground quake.
Inside, tables flipped, platters shattered, and the entire hall seemed to tremble from the raw force of the technique.
But Nagato… couldn't stand.
The power wasn't his—it was the Rinnegan's.
And his body, already ravaged by poison, couldn't contain it.
He collapsed beside Yahiko, his hand still gripping his brother's.
Konan slumped forward, her forehead pressing against Yahiko's chest, her body motionless from exhaustion and toxins.
They were all still.
Even Hanzo, shaken from the blast, stayed where he was for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he rose.
A streak of blood trailed from his lips. His cloak was torn, and his armor was cracked.
He stared at the three broken figures before him.
They weren't dead yet… but they would be soon.
The poison would see to that.
Hanzo spat onto the floor and turned away.
"At last… the threat of Akatsuki is over."
He waved his hand toward the hidden Rain shinobi watching nearby.
"Leave them."
"They won't live through the night."
But fate has a strange way of shaping the future.
Though Yahiko had died…
His death had planted something far more dangerous than a rebellion.
It planted pain.
And pain would grow into a storm that would change the entire world.
The Akatsuki, once an idealistic dream for peace, was about to become something else entirely.
Something colder.
Something merciless.
Something unstoppable.
And its name… would echo like thunder.
Pain.
P@treon(Zynos) now at 200 chapters, 20 more chapters left before completion.