"Hanzo-sama!"
A shadow fell over him.
Even in his weakened state, Kagerō could sense the shift in the room. The whispers that had once filled the ward had vanished, replaced by an uneasy silence. The air felt heavier as if the walls themselves held their breath.
Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.
Metal boots clicked against the wooden floor, each step precise and unhurried. The presence approaching was not in a rush. It didn't need to be.
Then came the voice.
"Which one?"
It was deep, commanding, but not loud. The kind of voice that carried authority, not because it demanded it; but because it expected nothing less.
"Here, Hanzo-sama," came the hushed reply.
A doctor?
'I didn't see one. But then again, these new eyes don't provide the best vision.'
Kagerō couldn't see him clearly, but he could hear the subtle tremor in his voice.
Fear.
It was clear in the way the doctor breathed, the way he hesitated before speaking.
Hanzo had that effect on people.
The ruler of Amegakure did not need to shout or threaten to inspire fear. His presence alone was enough.
Another step forward, and the figure finally entered Kagerō's view.
Hanzo the Salamander. The ruler of Amegakure. The warlord who would one day be overthrown.
His armor was dark, shaped with segmented plates that curved like a carapace. A gas mask covered the lower half of his face, its vents shaped like the jaws of a beast. His hair was slicked back, blonde and damp from the endless rain outside.
A small black salamander rested on his shoulder, its beady eyes glinting in the dim light. It was motionless, coiled against his neck like a living shadow.
Kagerō's tiny, aching body wanted to shiver.
This man was death itself.
The doctor, an older man with deep lines on his face, shifted uncomfortably. He was thin, almost sickly looking as if life in Amegakure had drained him dry. His robes were damp with sweat, though the room was anything but warm.
Hanzo turned his head slightly, his mask hissing softly as he inhaled.
"You're sure?"
The doctor swallowed hard. "Yes, Hanzo-sama," he answered quickly. "The fever should have killed him, but his body is still holding on. It's… unnatural. His blood rejects the chakra instead of accepting it. He should be dead."
A pause.
Hanzo stepped closer.
The doctor stiffened, his shoulders tightening like a man standing before an executioner.
Hanzo said nothing.
Then, he moved.
A gloved hand entered Kagerō's vision, dark fabric slick with some kind of oily substance. It clung to his fingers, gleaming faintly in the dim light.
The doctor took a half-step back, just slightly. A normal man wouldn't have noticed it.
Hanzo did.
His gaze flickered toward the doctor for the briefest moment.
The doctor paled.
Kagerō, though barely conscious, felt the tension suffocate the room.
At last, Hanzo ignored him and lowered his hand.
Fingers brushed against Kagerō's forehead.
Then, chakra.
Raw, unfiltered energy poured into him, spreading like liquid fire through his tiny body. His muscles seized, and his nerves screamed. He wanted to cry, to wail, to beg for relief but his body was too small, too weak.
His veins burned. His bones ached. His mind fractured under the pressure.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun—
The pain stopped.
Hanzo pulled his hand away.
A long silence followed.
The salamander on his shoulder stirred, shifting slightly as if tasting the air.
"This child should be dead," Hanzo murmured. His voice was unreadable. "Yet he is not."
The doctor hesitated. "Then…?"
Hanzo stood. His presence withdrew slightly, but the weight of his gaze remained.
"Mark him."
There was movement. The doctor hesitated again. "Hanzo-sama, do you truly think—?"
Hanzo's masked gaze turned toward him.
"I believe in what I see," he said, voice cold. "This boy endured where others would have perished. That is enough."
The doctor's fingers twitched.
He did not argue further.
"If he lives, bring him to me when he turns four," Hanzo continued. "If he does not… then he wasn't worth considering in the first place."
Boots turned. The presence faded.
Then, as Hanzo left, he spoke one last time.
"Survive, young one. If you can."
Then he was gone.
Kagerō lay there, his body still weak, his breath still painful. But his mind was clear.
Hanzo had spared him.
For now.
The door creaked open again.
A figure stepped in—an Ame Jonin. His uniform was dark, his armored vest slick with rain. A metal mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.
The doctor bowed deeply, nearly pressing his forehead to the damp floor.
The Jonin exhaled, arms crossed. "I expected a promising recruit, not a newborn." His gaze drifted to Kagerō's crib, then to his neck. "But Hanzo-sama's interest is… rare."
With no further hesitation, he pulled a senbon from his pouch, the needle's tip faintly glowing with chakra. The doctor flinched but did not protest.
The Jonin leaned over, pressing the senbon's tip against Kagerō's neck, right under his ears. Slow, precise etchings carved a fuinjutsu seal into his skin. The sting was sharp and cold.
But the mark was just that, an etching. Ofcourse, Ame lacked the fuinjutsu knowledge konoha possessed. Kagerō wondered how the jonin would complete this ritual.
With a single hand seal, a puff of smoke erupted.
A red salamander emerged, sleek and glistening, its golden eyes blinking lazily. It slithered onto Kagerō's crib, sniffing the mark.
Then, it struck.
Fangs sank into his neck.
It was still for a moment, Kagerō tilted his head a little in thought. It was comical.
The infant stared with wide bulbous eyes at the red salamander. The jonin seemed perplexed.
But something reacted.
The seal pulsed.
The poison fought something inside him—his chakra. A small, almost invisible force, but it resisted. The venom attacked, trying to overwrite it. His chakra pushed back, clinging to existence.
The Jonin observed, arms crossed.
The doctor hesitated. "This reaction—should I—"
"Do not disturb the assimilation."
"But, Jonin-sama—"
A sharp glare. "Do. Not. Interfere."
The doctor bit his tongue, his hands trembling.
The salamander hissed softly before slithering away, its task complete. The seal dimmed, the venom settling into his veins.
The Jonin turned toward the door. Without looking back, he spoke.
"If the child dies—then that was what he would have amounted to in the end."
And then, he was gone.
'Well, I hope these people leave me alone now. A baby has to ponder upon his existence upon birth. There's no privacy in this shinobi world.'
With that thought, Kagerō drifted to sleep. The exhaustion of chakra infusion wore him to sleep