Cold eyes glared up at the robed man with naked disgust. The man did his best to ignore him and stepped across the room, his black and red robes billowing out behind him. He watched the first pale gold rays of the sun break over the stone faces of the hokage in the distance.
"Today is a new day," said the robed man quietly.
"Today, yesterday, and tomorrow," growled the cold eyed man in a low voice. He kept his elbows raised casually over the back of his couch. His legs were outstretched lazily over a table littered with empty bottles of beer and sake. "Your type never say anything useful, do they?"
The robed man didn't say anything. He could feel the sense of menace flowing from the man on the couch behind him.
"I don't want to be anywhere near here when your little plan goes off," said the cold eyed man. He scratched at the bandages covering the lower half of his face. "Just give me my money and you'll never see me again,"
"Have you ever believed in anything, Mr. Zabuza? Have you ever come across something so important you would gladly lay down your life in order to protect it?"
"No," said Zabuza flatly. He brushed his fingers against the hilt of the massive cleaver sword resting against the couch. "I want my money, Mizuki,"
Mizuki stared at the sprawling buildings of Konohagakure as they stretched out before him. The village had a quiet, otherworldly serenity during sunrise.
He scowled. "No, of course you don't. The only thing a dog like you would care about is money," Mizuki snarled. He turned to Zabuza and flinched. The rogue ninja's glare could have burned a hole through paper.
"Heh. A dog? That's all a shinobi ever is. A dog on a leash," said Zabuza slowly. He raised the cleaver sword easily with one hand and pointed it at Mizuki. "You better be careful, Mizuki. Keep a dog hungry enough and it'll bite,"
Mizuki swallowed. He'd been hasty. That had been the old Mizuki talking, rash and angry like always. He had been reborn now. He was the new Mizuki. The new Mizuki wasn't angry anymore.
Mizuki didn't move. A bead of cold sweat dripped down his cheek. Zabuza's black eyes were locked on his. He could almost feel the man's killing intent push in on him from all sides.
Startled, Mizuki took a step backward.
The thin sliding door to the room rattled open. A young, beautiful raven haired boy with delicate features stepped into the room. If he hadn't already known, Mizuki might have mistook him for a girl.
The boy strode up to Mizuki. He smiled at him. "You shouldn't speak like that to Mr. Zabuza,"
"Yes, well," said Mizuki, still taken aback by what he'd felt. His eyes darted to Zabuza. The tan skinned man grunted and set the cleaver sword back down against the couch.
"Do you ever get tired of that cheap smile of yours, Haku?" said Zabuza.
"Hmm?" said Haku. He turned his smiling face towards Zabuza.
Zabuza snorted. He stared off to the side.
"You'll have your money as soon as the messenger arrives," said Mizuki. He moved briskly towards the door and paused. "We are the growing light of righteousness in a decaying world. Of course the Akatsuki will pay their debts," He slid the door open and left the room.
"Why did you stop me from killing him?" said Zabuza.
"We can't kill him until were paid master Zabuza," said Haku. "Besides, Akatsuki has grown considerably powerful. We wouldn't want to carelessly make an enemy out of that man just yet, would we?"
Zabuza grunted again. "Be ready to go as soon as the money gets here,"
Haku nodded obediently.
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Mizuki moved briskly down a flight of stairs that lead to a large, empty living room. It was in here that he had gathered the necessary foot soldiers for the armies of God the night before. Each and every last one of them had been prepared to lay down their lives to drive back the forces of darkness. There would be no mercy in the face of the unbelievers.
And yet, something was not right. He rubbed his hands together. As he had looked out at the village, a strange, queasy sensation had bubbled in the pit of his stomach. Had it been remorse?
Mizuki shook his head. No, there was no remorse. The sensation could only be disgust. How many millions of innocents had died to make konohagakure great? How many lives had the unbelievers taken during the chaotic years of the third shinobi war to build this shrine to violence?
It was the same war that had robbed him of a father.
For years he had dreamed of becoming a hero like his father. For years he had foolishly believed that if only he could become a jonin, he could somehow grow closer to the father who had disappeared from his life.
He was wrong. He didn't have his father's talents. Waking up everyday to teach at the academy, knowing full well that he would never have what it would take to make jonin rank had been a living hell. He had smiled. He had tried to pretend it was alright, that he could learn to enjoy his life as a school teacher but that was a lie. He had hated knowing he would live and die as a teacher, forever bound to the same endless, meaningless routine.
He would never forget the man that had gotten him that job, even as he forced himself to hide his true feelings. More than anything, Iruka had been the one he had hated the most.
That was the old Mizuki, foolish and full of hate. Now things were different. His life had a new purpose.
If everything went right, the money he'd pay Zabuza for training the recruits would be worth it.
All the great powers of the world would learn to cower in fear. God had returned to lead his chosen into the new era.
And the exalted name the Sage of Six Paths had chosen for his second coming was Pain.
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"Come on! Come on!" said a young girl with short cropped blond hair impatiently. She pulled on her friend's arm rudely. "What are you waiting for Sakura!"
"I—," began Sakura softly. She looked up at the blond girl with soft green eyes. "Ino! Wait!"
"Come on! It'll be fun!" said Ino.
Sakura looked up helplessly at her parents as Ino dragged her away.
"Hey!" called out a man with a blond ponytail from behind an unusually large stall. "Don't go too far! Stay were we can see you! You hear me Ino?!
There was no response.
"Ino!"
The blond girl raised her hand dismissively without looking back. "Yeah, yeah. Ok dad,"
The man sighed. He looked up at the couple in front of the stall a little sheepishly. "I'm sorry if she's caused you any trouble. I know Ino can be a handful,"
"Not at all Inoichi! Not at all!" said the pink haired man in front of him. He broke into a wide grin. "Sakura is just catching up with an old friend, in every sense of the phrase! Ha ha ha!"
"Oh, stop it Kizashi," said the green eyed woman with short blond hair beside him. "I'm sure Inoichi doesn't want to hear your cheap jokes,"
"Of course he does Mebuki!" said Kizashi heartily. "Inoichi loves my jokes!"
Mebuki shook her head disapprovingly.
"I can't thank you enough," said Inoichi. "We've been short handed at the flower shop the last couple of days. There's been a flu going around and some of the Yamanaka are feeling under the weather. Usually I'd take Ino around the festival myself but, someone had to take orders while the flower arrangements are made,"
Mebuki smiled at him. "It's no trouble at all. We're happy to have Ino with us any time. Sakura has come out of her shell so much since she started spending time with her,"
"Ah, before I forget," said Inoichi. "Ino's birthday is coming up. She'll probably let Sakura know but knowing her she might forget until the last minute. We'd be happy to have you join us,"
"Of course we'll go. You know how I feel about the whole free food thing. They should have never jailed it in the first place! Ha ha ha!" said Kizashi.
Mebuki glanced wearily at her husband. "We'd love to go Inoichi. When is Ino's birthday?"
"It's the twenty third," said Inoichi. "But were going to throw her the party on Saturday. She's turning eight,"
Kizashi turned to look for the girls while Inoichi and Mebuki talked. The bright lights of the festival twinkled in the night down the long length of the crowded street. A variety of stalls including everything from games to food to elaborate theater masks ran down the length of the road. The happy sounds of villagers rose over the area in a great buzz. Looming over them nearby the great stone hokage faces looked down on their legacy with neutral stares.
.
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Mizuki sat quietly at one of the food stalls as he watched the throngs of laughing villagers go by in a ceaseless current. His eyes lingered over a group of young women dressed in colorful purple, blue, and red yukatas. It had been a long time since he had come to the festival on Founding Day. The traditional robes they wore were unusual to see outside of festival days.
Mizuki took a sip of water from his cup.
He felt queasy. The same uncomfortable sensation he'd felt looking out the window had returned in force. Normally he might have taken a shot or two of sake but, today he wanted to be pure. His face was lean and his eyes were hollow and intense. He'd been fasting since the night before, eager to cleanse his body before the promised time came.
Mizuki looked out at the world around him from the yellow face that had become his mask. His eyes never focused on anything. The only thing he could think of was his mother.
Life had been hard without his father. He had been forced to work long hours along with his mother just to make ends meet. Sometimes they hadn't had enough to eat a meal. He'd stood by, numb, one hand comforting his mother's shoulder as she wept because she didn't have enough food to feed her child. He'd watched as her hands had stiffened and her back had hunched from the endless menial labor she'd been forced into to keep them alive.
His hands trembled. The fury rose in his ears like a great nest of wasps. It was an overwhelming, destructive, helpless rage that burned away at him more effectively than any fire ever could. It faded suddenly, as quickly as it had come.
The queasy feeling grew stronger. His hands trembled harder now.
Was it his anger that wouldn't let him sit still?
There was a loud, dull explosion in the distance. The crowds on the street looked dumbly in its direction, searching the sky for fireworks.
"Huh?" said the paunchy, middle aged stall owner, looking up from his grill. "Are they starting early this year?"
Mizuki's eyes fixed themselves on two young girls that were playing at a nearby game stall as they tried to catch goldfish using small paper nets. He watched the taller, pink haired one smile timidly at her friend who yelled excitedly as she tried to pull up her net.
For a moment, he felt a flicker of doubt.
"I am the new Mizuki," he said in a low voice. He reached for the bag where he'd stored the special kunai. "I am reborn,"
"Sorry, what was that?" asked the stall owner.
Mizuki stood up abruptly. His hands were still trembling. He looked up at the hokage faces for the first time since that morning.
Their eyes were cold and indifferent.
Akatsuki was righteousness. Akatsuki was the voice of Pain, the voice of the Sage and of the millions of nameless victims the world had endured.
Akatsuki was the dawn that drove the endless darkness out before it.
Mizuki drew his kunai, the paper of the explosive tag smooth to his touch. He threw it into the twisting crowd before him.
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Author's note: Hello there. As I write this it is currently a half hour past midnight...getting up tomorrow is gonna suck. I'll usually try to put these up in the morning but, I'll just let this one slid past my obsessive need for order. Guess it's not friday anymore either, huh? Alright, live and learn I guess. Today I watched the second to last episode of Angel Beats and boy, was it good. Really, if you're looking for anime to watch, Angel Beats is your show. It's amazing just how well it handles complete tone shifts. It'll make you laugh one moment, hit you with a ridiculous action scene the next, then suddenly go really tragic seamlessly. The music is really good too. The opening song with the visuals is one of my favorite openers of all time I think. Too bad I only have one episode left...sigh. Guess I'll have to find something else to tide me over till Attack on Titan season 2. Think I'll head to bed.
No. I won't. I'll probably play something to round out the hour to an even one.
Oh boy. My future, sleep deprived self is gonna hate me. Aterno out.