All hope is lost. The fringes of his vision are fading to black and his other senses are dimming. But he'll be damned if he let's that stop him from making a final point. The old man gets up a little, the effort is tremendous, but he does it anyway, he can feel tired when he has passed. Slowly but deliberately he speaks to his opponent who is gathered around him.

"I knew it would be you. The first time I saw you on the battlefield, I knew you would be the one to defeat me ... eventually."

Six pairs of eyes stare down on him. There's no way to be sure, but he feels the gaze on him. He can't move his head any more, all he sees is his right shoulder, his light hair and his right hand. Perhaps his spine was injured, it doesn't matter any more. He continues.

"They say at the birth time of jutsu, long before our time, these eyes of yours belonged to a man who had become like a god."

The body he recognized earlier as a former rebel leader, speaks up. It seems this one is his favourite vessel. It once was probably someone important to his opponent.

"We have now become more than men. We feel like we are touching what it's like to be a god."

Had he not seen the extent of that power first-hand, he would have thought his opponent was mad to think the way he does.

"I wonder, what kind of a god you will become. Will you bring an end to war? Will you be different from me? You think we are opposites, don't you?"

"..."

"Perhaps we are, I can't presume to understand what goes on in your mind. But from where I'm standing, we're not so different."

His opponent is somewhat intrigued. This fragile looking old man on the floor can't possibly be the same as he is. This is the man he has lived to defeat. For years every breath was devoted to this single purpose. They can't be the same.

"Do you think that before me, things in this country of ours were any better? Do you think the person that I am was created spontaneously? No, my legend was formed, because the times required a strong man to stand up. I still remember vividly, it was just as it is now, it was an era of constant strife. So in the end it was cause and effect, I was a hero to my people, just as you are now standing before me, I stood before a tyrant many years ago."

He starts to cough. The younger man notices there's some blood coughed up, but it gets clogged in the breathing mask.

"That's how I knew all along you would eventually defeat me. I had always known another strong man would rise up and challenge me. The very thought had driven me to the brink of insanity, my paranoia... I was afraid of everyone who was close to me, and I couldn't trust new people."

It's starting to rain. The old man can feel the drops on his face. This cursed land wouldn't let him go without sending it's regards, and making his final resting place a pool of mud. The never ending rain... but soon he will be free from that. He'll disappear in the dust and hide under a rock when the sun becomes too hot.

"It's liberating, knowing that I will never have to watch behind me again. Now the curse is passed on to you, one day you also will know your final opponent when you look him in the eyes the first time."

"Compared to pain we carry with us, that will only be a small burden. As we have said a few times, we are more than mere humans now."

"A god that carries a pain inside of him, it makes me wonder, are you still holding on to your humanity?"

"No, this pain is the reason I am standing here victorious. It's the source of my power." He's somewhat annoyed. The mere suggestion of clinging to weakness is insulting. Now he notices the old man is laughing at him. At him!

"Hah, I remember it was the third or fourth time you attacked me, that was the first time you used more than one body."

"What are you getting at?"

"Over the years we threw our country and it's people into a civil war and we met many times on the battlefield. And you kept sending more vessels to fight me, sometimes three, sometimes even four. I destroyed all of them, and you kept sending more, sometimes I would even recognize the faces of men I killed myself. I never saw your original body ever again, but the eyes always remained the same. So I knew it was you."

The old man is starting to speak faintly. He's at the last of his power, he sounds tired. This is not at all what the younger opponent had imagined this moment would be like.

"And now you used as a vessel, the body of your friend, and five others. You finally found the combination to catch me. But your weakness is the knowledge of having an original body."

"..." He had made it a point to use Yahiko's body when he had finally figured out how to defeat his opponent.

"I'm so tired." He pauses to catch his breath. "During the fight, a summon of mine had discovered your location. Had I been more ambitious I could have used that to my advantage, but I'm so tired that I chose to overlook it."

"The original body is well guarded and even stronger than the vessels. You could not have defeated it."

"Ha ha, truly if you say so." The short silence implies he isn't impressed. "Still, it is your weakness. Take this advice from a dying man, become secretive and hide the fact that there is an original. Only act through proxy, just as you rule this land, you survive longer if nobody knows where you are, no matter how strong you believe yourself to be."

The vessel of the former rebel leader now crouches down next to the old man. He extends his hands holding the black pike that is his trademark weapon. This has been going on for long enough. The ramblings of an old man, it's almost perverse to indulge in his final thoughts.

"Now that the war is lost, you will become the new ruler. This gives me the privilege of giving you the title, just as the man I defeated gave me the title of the salamander."

"..."

"So now it falls to me, I bestow upon you, upon these six vessels of yours, the title of the six paths of pain. Live by this name, hide your true identity, your weakness, perhaps you will know what it's like to be a god of pain. But you will always look back. Always." The malice in his eyes flashes one more time as he emphasises the last part.

The six paths of pain. He has to admit, it has a certain ring to it. Admittedly the old man was always good at coming up with titles. With his weapon he stabs the old man and finishes him off. Now he knows how to take the last step, he has to destroy everyone that knows about his origins. Everyone that could possibly know his secret. If he does that, they won't be similar any more.

He makes the rain stop. As he walks away, behind him a salamander pops up from under a rock and jumps into a pool of water. Never to be seen again.

I had been planning to write something about these two for a long time. Originally, when we weren't that far in the manga yet, I had toyed with the idea that they are one and the same because of the similarities they had. Always surrounded by bodyguards - 6 bodies, killing everyone that knows Nagato's identity could be interpreted as killing everyone that knows who Hanzo is, etcetera. That's where the idea of them being similar came from.

I'll probably go back to writing the bingo book story again, soon. But it sure is nice to write about different characters from time to time. On a similar note I have an idea about a Kisame story, the glory days when the rebellions in Hidden Mist flare are common, and the intrigue runs deep with all the major characters, Madara, current Mizukage, Zabuza, you name it. If Kishimoto won't touch on that, I'll write it.

But it will have to wait untill I know for sure it won't be discussed, I very much dislike the idea of writing something that doesn't work with the canon. Since Nagato is dead and the focus has switched to Madara and his summon, it seems like Kishimoto won't touch on how Hanzou and Pain fought anymore, so I think I'm in the clear.