The Bad Guys
The first chapter of the New Year, ladies and gentlemen.
My resolution is to finish and publish my novel, which, for those that have forgotten, is a retconned version of the Xenophobic arc at the end of Backup Plan. I would've finished it the past year, considering I easily wrote over 100k in fanfiction, but I wrote a 100k in fanfiction.
I find myself too dedicated to you guys, and the prospect of going for months at a time without updating any story just…curls my toes.
So my pain is self-inflicted and therefore unworthy of sympathy or pity.
I've been informed that the past chapters have seemed fillerish. Congratulations, Observer, you are correct. These chapters are filler. They are necessary filler, for they paint the picture of Shin'en's actions and story in the Blood War. These filler chapters are part of what made Shin'en what he is in the future.
Anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or PJO
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March 29, 1011 A.S.
"This is a fourth," Shin'en said through the shared mask feed. "And out of all the things we've done, like killing babies and kids, setting people on fire to send a message, killing people running food pantries, this is easily the worst."
"Well duh, it's the worst," Bullock said. "It's girls. Girls are always the worst."
"Bullock~," Shin'en said with a cross between a scold and a whine, "That's not even fair, and you know it."
"Yeah, Bullock," Sukina said, a smirk in her voice, "girls aren't always the worst missions."
"Name a mission that's worse than one involving girls," Bullock challenged.
"Any that involve talking to you," Yūwaku said snarkily.
"Very funny. You got a real answer, or is ad hominem the only thing you got?"
"That wasn't even an argument. Of course, someone with green hair wouldn't understand the higher tiers of argument."
"Now that's ad hominem," Shin'en said.
Sukina patted his head. "That's right. Never use ad hominem."
"Focus, everyone," Arashi said. "You're getting off track. Sukina, do you have an answer to Bullock's question of which kind of mission is worse than ones involving girls?"
"Well, not really. As I can recall right now, all of our worst missions revolve around girls. Kind of like this one. Girls and slavery go together like peanut butter and chocolate."
Shin'en shuddered slightly. "After that last mission, I don't want to think of peanut butter and chocolate."
"That was some pretty bad stuff," Bullock agreed.
"Yeah," Yūwaku said. "Sicko trains her pet birds to eat only PB&C, and then feeds people tons of the stuff so her birds peck apart the stomach to get to the goodies inside. Original, I think, and really grody."
"Easily top ten grodiest things," said Bullock.
"What's number one?" Shin'en asked curiously.
He got four answers all at once, and it sounded something like this:
"Uglyoptoidcrytuiopus."
Shin'en blinked. "What about an ugly opioid octopus?"
Yūwaku cackled at the question.
Sukina smiled as she answered. "The four of us have different answers on what's number one on the grody list. I think the grodiest thing was these old men who dug up semi-fresh graves and went munting."
"Munting?"
"Munting is when you take a slightly decomposed corpse, and put your mouth to the asshole, while another person jumps on the stomach, making all the juices inside come squirting out. What comes squirting out is called munt," Sukina explained.
Shin'en turned about as white as his mask. "Ew. You people debate that's not the grodiest thing?"
"Yep," Bullock said. "That's Sukina's number one. Mine is this woman who ran a sushi restaurant, and she had this jutsu similar to the Akimichi Clan's Expansion Jutsu, and she used it on these baby octopi. She ran a smuggling ring, and her favorite torture was to have these baby octopi slide up someone's asshole, and then she would use her jutsu to make the octopi supersize on the inside. Sometimes the tentacles would come ripping out at random locations, and sometimes the stomach would just swell up really bad, and the octopus would come sliding out the ass."
"Those poor octopi," Shin'en said. "What's your number one, Arashi?"
"A man smoked too much opium…raped his son…his daughter…his wife…proceeded to kill all three of them…and strangled the dog, the cat, and the bird…and swallowed the fish."
"…that's not really grody," Shin'en said slowly. "That's just morbid."
Arashi shrugged.
"What's your number one, Yūwaku?"
"Oh, that's easy," she said cheerily. "My number one most grody moment was when my son was butchered alive in front of me and the little pieces he was cut into were neatly packaged and shipped for sale on the black market."
"…oh."
Now Shin'en felt bad.
"Aww, don't worry about it, kiddo. Can't change the past, after all."
Shin'en felt really bad.
"So, kid, what's your number one most grody moment?" Bullock asked.
"Um, in my experience, or taking from you guys?"
"Your experience," Arashi answered.
Shin'en thought about it for a little bit. "Um, well~…the peanut butter birds was pretty grody; watching as they pecked through that guy's stomach to get to the peanut butter and chocolate inside was grody. Um, the Walrus Guy was pretty grody; he did skin people and use the skins to make walrus costumes that he would mutilate people into fitting inside of. Uh, when I was training for interrogation in the Cloud, I would get a hammer and crush testicles, and use a power drill on ovaries…that was some grody stuff, I think. But if I had to pick a number one…the grodiest thing would be this dream I had of my mom and the walrus about to have sex."
Shin'en shuddered. "That much fat moving is…blegh!"
Yūrei couldn't help the chuckles at the childish display.
Arashi sobered up quickly. "Alright, you monkeys. Look alive, we're at the drop point."
The Ghosts of the Bloody Mist got serious as they approached their clients. Dozens of samurai were guarding a few sleazy men in suits.
"Ah, you know, I had my doubts about you Yūrei people, but after this…I gotta say, you guys are amazing!" the boss of the exchange said. "I mean, twenty virgin girls all under fifteen in 30 hours—you guys had to do your homework, kidnap them, and then get them all the way out here with potential run-ins with wild animals, angry mobs, and other shinobi! You guys are a bunch of badasses!"
Arashi didn't make a sound as he tugged on the chain, making those aforementioned twenty girls stumble forward. All of them were naked, all of them connected in a series of collars around their necks, their wrists and ankles in shackles, sacks on their heads. They were all clearly cold in the late March night air, and some had dried streams of urine running down their legs from not being able to hold it long enough.
The leader of Yūrei held out an expectant hand, and the boss motioned. A samurai stepped forward with a brief case and opened it, revealing dozens of stacks of cash. Arashi jerked his head and Shin'en came forward.
"Oh-ho! Letting the new blood get some experience, I see. I can't tell, are you a boy or a girl?"
Shin'en's frame, as much as he tried to bulk it up and develop muscle, just stayed slim and lithe, borderline sinewy. It also didn't help that he hadn't hit puberty, and therefore his body was stuck in this androgynous state. He also hadn't cut his hair in literal months, and it had grown long enough to fall past his neck. Honestly, if you didn't know him, you'd have no grey area about him Persephone's twin sister.
Shin'en didn't give the boss an answer, or even an indication of having heard him. He just took out a few stacks of ryō, flipped them to hear how much there was, put the cash back in place, and gave Arashi a nod, shutting the case and taking it.
Arashi handed the chain over to a samurai, and gave the boss a curt nod.
Yūrei vanished from sight in bursts of speed.
And just like that, the Ghosts of the Bloody Mist completed their contract of delivering twenty virgin teenagers into prostitution, while also having a casual conversation about grodiness.
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Manhattan
2004
Sally was tossing on her side of the bed, sweat marring her brow. She was having a nightmare that had plagued her for years during Persephone's youth, but she hadn't had it since her daughter turned nine, which doubled the effect of the nightmare due to its resurgence.
The mother of one (technically two) found herself before a panel of three faceless judges, all of them wearing black robes with white wigs. To her side was a jury of faceless men and women, and behind her the courtroom was filled with dozens of people that did have faces. That wasn't to say there was a bunch of outfits floating around, no. What Sally meant by faceless was that everyone had hands and heads, and skin colors, it was just that their faces had no features beyond the pointy nose you see in cartoons.
In Sally's arms was a three-year-old Persephone, arms and legs wrapped tight around her, wearing a simple blue play dress.
SALLY JACKSON, the middle judge intoned with a resounding and hollow voice, WE HAVE CONFERRED WITH THE JURY AND HAVE DECIDED THAT WE KNOW BETTER THAN YOU ABOUT HOW TO RAISE YOUR OWN CHILD, AND WILL NOW TAKE HER FROM YOU. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!
"No!" Sally screamed. "You can't do this to me! I know I struggle, but I've met every requirement a parent is supposed to do!"
The faceless police officers approached with their hands splayed, and Sally stepped back, clutching the bawling Persephone tightly. Her back hit the wood, and hands grabbed at her. Sally paled when the onlookers had their hands splayed and were crawling over the pews. Looking over her shoulder, the judges and jurors were also advancing with their fingers splayed like claws.
"NO! NO! GET BACK! YOU WILL NOT TAKE HER FROM ME!"
Sally started swiping and kicking at the encroaching demons, but it was no use. Hands got ahold of her and her daughter, and pulled in two different directions.
"MOMMY, HELP ME!" Persephone wailed.
"Persephone! Persephone!" Sally desperately cried.
She fought through the crowd, but it was no use.
And then a wraith stood from on high, blocking the light of the sun streaming in from the skylight. With glowing red-hot eyes, the wraith broke through the glass with a crash, and descended with cape spread wide, casting a massive shadow over the demons. The wraith crashed down, crushing several beneath him, and then slowly and majestically rose to his full height, towering over all in the courtroom.
The red eyes narrowed, and cast a brief illumination over his face: paper white, with a sadistic grin.
Sally closed her eyes as the carnage ensued. Sounds of ripping and tearing were heard, along with screaming and pleading of mercy, but Sally wanted no mercy for these demons that tried to take away from her, tried to take away her most precious and valuable possession.
In moments, the sounds ended, and a pair of tiny arms encircled her. Sally cracked her eyes open and was relieved to find that it was Persephone, free from the evil clutches and in her embrace once again.
"Oh, my baby, my baby…" Sally muttered through tears.
The wraith stood magnificently above them, blood soaking his black-robed form, red eyes casting a glow over his sadistic grin.
The blood was splattered on him in a way that looked like clouds….
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April 4, 1011 A.S.
"Are we the bad guys?" Shin'en casually asked Arashi.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of compression shorts and a training bra.
The man with the heart-shaped pompadour took a sip of his morning coffee, not bothered at all with Shin'en's strangely working mind. "What have I told you about that?"
"That there are no good guys or bad guys in war, just guys—yeah, yeah, but I'm talking about, like, if we came across a burning building, with people inside, and we weren't on a mission, would we save those people?"
Arashi paused in his sip, looking ahead. "Are we on our way to a mission?"
If he had to guess, Hiyumi or Kimiko was bleeding into the boy's thought processes, making him think a training bra was alright to wear.
Shin'en frowned. "No, no missions, we're just out to get some groceries or something like that, and we see a building on fire. Would we save the people inside?"
"If we're getting groceries, then we're in a public place with a fire department that will handle the blaze."
The demigod pouted and flopped over the table. Arashi saw the Black Lightning tattoo on the shoulder, and the kill counter on the forearm.
1,821.
Since he had arrived in this squad, Shin'en had killed over a thousand people. Yūrei really got around.
The demigod gave Arashi a pointed look. "Stop. Dodging. The question."
The leader of Yūrei took another sip of his coffee. "No. If we came across a burning building, we would not save the people inside."
"Oh," Shin'en said, sounding a little disappointed. "Okay."
He slid off the table and rolled, popping up into a stand. "We got a mission?"
"Yes, but it needs preparation. Mei wants us to investigate a potential superweapon in the town of Umikuro, and either shut it down or take it for the rebellion. Go take a nap."
"Okay."
Shin'en toddled off to his room, humming "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," a tune Arashi didn't recognize.
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Hours later
Yūrei gathered in their meeting room.
"Shin'en," Arashi said, "what did you find?"
The demigod, still wearing a pair of compression shorts and a training bra because his head had been screwed six ways to Sunday and back, uncapped several bottles of water and raised his hands. The water moved and flowed and formed into a replica of a town.
Think holographic imagery seen in sci-fi, but with water instead of lights.
"This is Umikuro," Shin'en said. The water moved and flowed differently, forming a new shape. "This is the facility under Umikuro. Scientists with samurai guard are working on a superweapon."
"The superweapon?" Arashi asked.
"Tailed-Beast chakra."
A cold settled over the room.
"Elaborate," the leader said.
"From what I saw, Yagura's been supplying the facility with chakra from his Three-Tails, and he's been having the Six-Tails Jinchuuriki Utakata also supply his own Tailed-Beast's chakra. The scientists have been trying to synthesize the chakra into a series of explosive tags, and have everything set up inside a containment field of Sealing Jutsu. Looks Uzumaki in origin."
Shin'en flexed his hands throughout his exposition, making the water change shape to add visual to his words.
"Beyond regular access points like doors, I found twenty-four exhaust vents, eight ventilation shafts, and three different plumbing systems, one of which is directly connected to a nearby river."
Arashi crossed his arms, his enormous muscles rolling. You could see in his eyes that his gears were turning. Tailed-Beast chakra was reputably powerful and very unstable; there was a reason the Jinchuuriki were regarded as the nine default most powerful people in the known world. If Yagura was seeking a means to synthesize such chakra and use it for explosive tags, the devastation could be unheard of.
Arashi imagined hundreds of dreaded Tailed-Beast Bombs all compact into pieces of magic paper the size of a foot, small and unnoticeable, placed in hidden locations far away from main targets, yet with a yield powerful enough to hit those targets. Unskilled assassins or would-be demolitionists capable of mass-murder on an unbridled scale. These potential new tags, the destructive power of the fabled Tailed-Beasts contained inside, could very well change the balance of power in the Shinobi World.
And it was Arashi, of all men on the Earth, who now had the power to choose the fate of these new weapons:
Destroy them.
Take them for his team.
Take them for the Rebels.
Take them for sale on the black market.
That last one was a definite no. Not only could the tags end up in the very wrong hands and his team have to get them back, but Yagura had many agents patrolling the market, looking for stolen items, and looking to buy things for the war effort. He could take them obviously, and not report to Mei about it, for what did it matter who had these tags, the Loyalists or the Rebels, for both would use them to slaughter each other. If he had the tags, he could keep them locked up, or put them to effective use, safe and secret for him and team.
Beyond just the tags, however, there was also the scientists and samurai. Kill them, avoid them, or spare them? Same for the townspeople. Slaughter them all overnight, evacuate them, or leave them be? Usually, Arashi wouldn't give thought to details like this, but for a reason neither him nor any other members of Yūrei could explain, Shin'en had entered a new phase, one in which he cared about the lives of non-shinobi and non-mission targets.
One example of this new behavior was that question earlier about the burning building.
It weighed on Arashi's mind for a reason he couldn't fathom. For years he hadn't cared about others in such a way, for he had closed his heart to all but his family in Yūrei, but now that Shin'en was inside, some of his oddities and strangeness was getting inside too, like his sudden concern for being good guys or bad guys on a social level.
Inhaling deeply and exhaling deeply, Arashi put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Here's the plan…"
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Getting in was easy. Finding the security room was easy. Knocking out the guards on duty was easy. Rigging the cameras had been easy. It was going to be just as easy to set off the fire alarm and have everyone evacuating topside, but it got concerning when the evac alarm went off on its own, and it was clear why:
Meltdown.
Yūrei should've left right then, abandoning the mission and the people to the impending disaster. Shin'en went speeding for the synthesis chamber, telling his family to assist in evacuating the civilians and scientists. Against their better judgment, Yūrei went right along with that plan.
Shin'en sped through the corridors, the sirens and spinning red lights irritating him. He came to a stop in front of a set of thick metal doors, the doors to the observation room above the synthesis chamber. They were sealed shut, and he could sense the people inside, panicking.
Shin'en struck the doors, ramming his fingers through the seams. With an exhale, he pried them apart, sparks erupting in protest at his strength. The scientists inside were all standing there stunned at seeing the pint-sized person in the black outfit. The tell-tale grinning white mask, however…
"Yūrei! She's here to kill us!" someone screamed.
Then they all started screaming.
Shin'en tilted his head, and his further inaction lead to the screaming dying off and the sounds of the alarms to become the only sounds. Until there was a deep humming and a bright light that came from the other side of the observation room.
"It's about to blow!" someone yelled.
That was enough for a mass scramble to the door, and all the scientists except one made a bee line for the nearest exit. That one scientist shook his head, and looked down at Shin'en.
"So, what happened?" the demigod asked.
"Oh, the usual. Kidnapped against our will, forced to work for a tyrant, unstable energy that's finally gone critical…the usual. We had a containment field set up, a Sealing array that was actively powered by the chakra of a rotating cast of samurai, but the tags went screwy, and in order to maintain homeostasis, the array sucked the chakra right out of the poor bastards. However, with no further chakra to supply the area, it's all come undone. Running away isn't going to help. The amount of power that's about to be unleashed will blow everything in a twenty-mile radius to kingdom come." The scientist put a hand to his chin in thought.
"Or was it a twenty-thousand-mile radius?" he shrugged. "It's got a two and a zero at the end of it, I remember that for sure."
"Is there any way to stop it from overloading, or shorten the blast radius?" Shin'en asked.
The scientist raised a brow. "Why do you care, Yūrei? I doubt you're here to save us, because there's no way you could've known about the meltdown, and considering your occupation, I'd wager you're here to steal the tags or kill everyone that was here, so why are you worried about the blast radius instead of running away as fast as you can go?"
"Superman," Shin'en said.
"…who?"
"A good person that my big sister wants to be like when she grows up."
The scientist stared blankly down at Shin'en. "I'm not going to try to figure that one out. Well, if you're so hung up on being some kind of hero, the room where the samurai worked out of is right below us, but I warn you, kid: it took ten powerful samurai at all times to power the Containment Seal."
"Perfect. This'll be easy then."
"Whatever you say, kid. Me? I'm going to go to the bathroom and beat my meat one last time."
The scientist walked away to do just that, and Shin'en frowned. "Didn't need to know that…"
He punched a hole through the ground and descended, then ripped away the door to the room described. It was a very simple place, with Door A that Shin'en just ripped off, and Door B at the opposite side of the room. There were lights above, along with sprinklers in case of fire, and there were ten consoles evenly spaced along the left wall, each of them having two small pylons sticking up. There was an observational window, blinding light streaming from the other side as the Sealing array and the explosive notes were both going critical.
Shin'en could feel his family evacuating all that they could as fast as they could.
"Just like the Justice League," the demigod muttered with a proud little smile.
His most recent dream of his sister involved her watching the animated show and declaring how she wanted to be just like them when she grew up. It inspired Shin'en's impressionable mind.
Her went to the nearest set of pylons and grabbed them. Immediately did he feel the massive drain on his chakra as the Sealing array began to power up and match the destabilizing explosive tags.
The light got brighter and brighter, the humming got louder and louder, the facility began to crumble and collapse from the seismic vibrations, and the array kept sucking out Shin'en's chakra like a greedy whore.
The demigod started glowing just as he started to scream. It started low, more like a growl, and proceeded to get louder and louder as more chakra was put into the Sealing array, as more Tailed-Beast chakra started to unravel and glow, ready to explode.
Soon, Shin'en was putting out so much energy that he glowed even brighter than the other side of the glass, and the roar coming from him was just as loud as the destructive orchestra thundering to its crescendo.
And then finally…the Seal couldn't keep up with the volatile chakra of the Three and Six-Tails, and everything went white.
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Yūrei had done a magnificent job in getting everyone out, and when they heard the mighty rumble warning of an impending catastrophe, they threw up protective Earth jutsu and Sealing jutsu. Not a moment too soon, as the whole of Umikuro went up in flame and smoke and thunder.
A mushroom cloud towered into the night sky, its fire bringing false light to the world. Yūrei lowered the shields, and everyone beheld the destructively beautiful sight. While the civilians were awestruck at the fire and smoke and sorrowful for the loss of their homes and grateful to be alive, the Ghosts of the Bloody Mist were all having internal panic attacks.
The feed from Shin'en's mask was down, and demigod or not, a blast like that…surviving it…
Inexplicably, Shin'en's feed popped right back up, and he was looking at the mushroom cloud from the same exact angle as the rest of them. As one, Yūrei slowly turned their heads to their right, and saw Shin'en casually sitting there, legs dangling off the edge of the cliff.
"Hey, guys," he chirped.
"…how though?" Bullock asked, finding his voice first.
"'As the Log takes your place, you become the Log, and the Log becomes you. For a moment, you are an extension of the Log's blessing unto ninja.' Book of the Log, Chronicle of the Replacement, Verse 3."
Sukina whacked him very hard over the head. "If you ever quote that ridiculous Book of the Log bullshit to me again, I will shove a log up your tiny little ass."
"No promises," Shin'en grinned under his mask. "And you guys saved everyone, awesome!" He looked at Arashi. "See, we are the good guys!"
Of course, to the onlookers, who couldn't hear what was being said due to the masks, were treated to the spectacle of prolonged silent staring followed by physical abuse followed by more prolonged staring. And of course, even in the face of their life being saved, there was always that guy who had to be that guy.
That guy shoved his way forward. "Murderers! I know who you people are, you guys are Yūrei, the mercenaries for hire!"
Whispers and murmurs broke out among the crowd, and the air started to change.
But since Yūrei was Yūrei, and the only reason they bothered with a rescue operation was because of Shin'en, and the operation was completed, and they cared nothing at all for people's opinions of them, and had literally no need for arguments about public image, and didn't feel like going on a killing spree as it would undermine their supreme efforts…the Ghosts of the Bloody Mist just vanished from sight.
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Back at their base, Arashi passed out the shot glasses and the sake, filling everyone's glass. Putting away the bottle, he toasted. "To the dead."
Yūrei raised their glasses. "And to the next man to die."
They drank to that, and it was good.
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I thought this would be out later, but I came into a lot more free time than I thought, and my muse is singing to me right now. I have had a lot of time to think about missions for this story.
Speaking of, relax. The plot will thicken, I promise. Right now, I'm just filling in the gaps with fun little side stories.
Speaking further of side stories, I just finished watching both seasons of Young Justice with my dad, and I'm having passing fantasies of a non-canon crossover with Yūrei and the side-kicks—I mean, young heroes. You kinda saw a little bit of it with Shin'en recalling how he had a dream of his sister watching Bruce Timm's Justice League.
Thoughts?
If it's too bad an idea, I already have the next chapter planned out.
Fav, Follow, Review, and Happy New Year!
