A ramen shop on the outskirts of the Land of Rice Fields.
"Hermit Purple!"
Logan slapped the side of the Polaroid camera.
A photo slowly emerged.
In the picture, Orochimaru sat on a wooden chair with a steaming teacup in hand. He seemed to sense Logan's gaze—he raised the cup slightly, as though toasting him.
He hadn't run.
There was no need for Star Platinum to sketch in the details. The photo showed Orochimaru seated in the middle of an empty street lined with closed shops. Behind him stood more than a dozen shinobi, all wearing forehead protectors engraved with musical notes.
Otogakure.
Logan now understood why Orochimaru had retreated all the way to the Land of Rice Fields.
For seven days, Logan had chased him, and Orochimaru had fled without pause. No matter where he hid, Hermit Purple's ability to track through clues made escape impossible.
And now, at last, Orochimaru had stopped.
He wasn't hiding. He was waiting—openly.
Jiraiya once said: if he faced Orochimaru head-on, he could probably hold him down and beat him—though there was a touch of bravado in that claim. But if Orochimaru was given time to prepare, his threat level escalated exponentially.
In the photo, Orochimaru's eyes seemed to say:
"I'm right here, Logan. Do you dare to come?"
Logan chuckled to himself. "What, is this some kind of Batman standoff?"
He turned to the ramen shopkeeper. "Hey boss, how far is it from here to Otogakure?"
The shop owner looked at the sword slung across Logan's back and answered cautiously, "If a regular person walks, about five days northwest on foot. Two days by carriage. But if you're a ninja—you could get there in a day, running tree to tree."
Logan nodded, calculating the distance in his head. He rose to his feet, pulled some bills from his pocket, and dropped them on the table.
"Keep the change."
The owner wiped his hands on a towel and rushed to the door to protest. "Sir! A bowl of ramen isn't worth that much—you overpaid!"
But as he stepped outside, his words froze in his throat.
Logan was gone—soaring into the sky, riding his Destruction Blade like a meteor hurled by some invisible titan, streaking toward the northwest.
The shopkeeper dropped to his knees and shouted back inside, "Wife!"
"What?"
"Come quick… the gods are flying!"
---
Otogakure Village.
It was midday, and the sun shone bright, but the streets were empty. In the center, Orochimaru sat quietly on a chair, sipping tea as if enjoying retirement.
He looked peaceful—like a man who had let go of grudges.
But just a few steps behind him stood over a dozen Otogakure shinobi, each radiating killing intent. And flanking them—
Two solid wooden coffins.
In a world of low production like the shinobi nations, such coffins were a luxury. Most people were wrapped in straw mats when they died—if they were lucky.
A proper burial was reserved for the rich, the powerful, or high-ranking shinobi.
From various shadows, spies from other villages watched Orochimaru's every move. It was long rumored he had become the leader of Otogakure, but seeing it confirmed still sent ripples through the intelligence networks.
They'd known about Logan's pursuit of Orochimaru for days.
And now, the chase had come to its conclusion—right here, before their eyes.
"But what are the coffins for? They've even got 'one' and 'two' marked on them."
"You don't get it?" one spy whispered. "This is Orochimaru we're talking about—one of the legendary Sannin. Do you think he'd let himself be chased all the way here by a rookie like Logan without a response?"
"These coffins… they're a message. A challenge."
"If Logan dares show up—it's life or death. Orochimaru's ready for it. Maybe even willing to die."
The whispers continued among the spies.
Yakushi Kabuto stepped forward, pouring tea into Orochimaru's cup. "Lord Orochimaru, do you really think Logan will come?"
He couldn't understand how Logan had defeated Kimimaro, Jūgo, and even Orochimaru. There must've been some strange trick involved.
Still… seeing Orochimaru prepare so cautiously, Kabuto was beginning to believe Logan was far more dangerous than he'd imagined.
But even so—
Was Logan truly bold enough to walk into a hidden village alone?
It felt more like stupidity than bravery.
Kabuto wasn't the only one who thought this.
In the sky above, hidden behind cloud cover, Konan and Deidara observed the scene as well.
Deidara yawned. "Tch. What a waste of time. I thought there'd be some action."
Their targets were Orochimaru and Logan. But compared to the snake-like Orochimaru, Deidara preferred someone more dramatic—someone like Logan.
Konan nodded slightly in agreement.
Just then—
"He'll come."
It was Uchiha Itachi.
On the ground, Orochimaru said the exact same thing at the exact same moment.
"He'll come."
Kabuto blinked. "Why?"
Deidara raised an eyebrow. "You really think this guy's gonna just walk in here?"
Neither Itachi nor Orochimaru could explain their certainty in words. They simply offered the same answer:
"A feeling."
That subtle conviction that only came after facing Logan in battle. Something that couldn't be taught or analyzed—only understood through experience.
Konan raised a hand to speak, then thought better of it.
Deidara, on the other hand, laughed out loud.
"A feeling?" he slapped his thigh. "What's that? The feeling of being smacked around? Itachi, you sure this isn't some kind of weird kink?"
Itachi said nothing.
Two more hours passed. The Akatsuki's plan was simple: wait for Logan to clash with Orochimaru—then intervene during the chaos and capture both targets.
Konan checked the sun overhead.
It was noon.
"Deidara, any sign from your clay recon bugs?"
Deidara had scattered explosive clay insects across a 20-kilometer radius. If Logan stepped into the area, even subtly, a small detonation would alert them.
"Nope," he replied lazily.
Konan sighed. "Itachi, it seems your 'feeling' was wrong. We can't afford to wait any longer. Orochimaru's location is already leaked. If we delay, others will show up."
Still, Itachi didn't respond.
"Itachi?" Konan pressed.
"Listen," he said softly.
She strained her ears—and heard it.
Wind.
No, not just wind—something slicing through it.
"Look!"
The bright sun caught a flash of silver in the sky.
Logan.
He was flying.
Not sneaking in, not assassinating. Just flying straight toward Otogakure under the noonday sun—as if this were his home.
Everyone, both in the sky and on the ground, turned their chakra-enhanced vision on him.
Behind Logan, Star Platinum gripped the hilt of the Destruction Blade, aiming it squarely at Orochimaru.
"Ora!"
Logan accelerated. A white conical burst of pressure formed behind him as he pierced the sound barrier.
Thunder roared across the sky as his sword descended.
Boom!
The Destruction Blade slammed into Orochimaru, driving him into the ground.
A shockwave erupted, cracking the earth and flattening everything within a hundred-meter radius.
Nearby buildings crumbled. Otogakure shinobi were swallowed by debris.
Dust and rubble filled the air.
A single hand emerged from the chaos, waving like it was parting a curtain.
The wind picked up, scattering the smoke.
Logan stood in the middle of the ruins, pulling the sword free from the ground.
And then—
Boom. Boom.
Two coffin lids hit the ground.
Two figures stepped out.
Logan narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell… Why are there two giant zongzi?"
pàtreøn (Gk31)