Mist
Shinobi frequented bars. That in of itself isn't a surprise, victims of war, veterans and sufferers all, wishing to drown their sorrows and regrets. With them, spies seeking to slip crumbs of information by, via coin or eavesdropping, close to the fire as they could get, but protected by a shroud of homely warmth.
The surprising part is that you were likely to find missing nin too.
A missing nin's definition was complicated, but one could normally assume that they were there due to a disagreement with their village. Maybe they grew to dislike the philosophies of the armies they belonged to, or they thirsted for power outside of what was allowed. Either way, it was weird to see them flaunted in these havens, where normally they should be killed on sight, by their progenitors and their former foes (as ninja are never allies, even in peace). Their treatment wasn't so black and white though, and they thrived in the formless grey of morality and hypocrisy. Sometimes runner ups needed to be cut before they could grow, or dangerous ideas expedited. For that purpose, missing nin were like more suicidal mercenaries, willing to do a job, or give information, for the right price.
Anyone could choose to kill a missing nin, but the golden rule was, do it outside the bar. Otherwise, an entire establishment would save face by ripping of yours.
There were exceptions to the rule of course, but nobody was extant to them just then, milling about in a wooden shack in Water country, bustling with joy, and loose pockets, and quick hands, and gambling and, of course, alcohol. Dances all around, with singing and tunes from brothers in war and warfare.
Then the door opened. This was different from an entrance in the midst of action, as everyone in that room understood the gravity of that action. A single man, clearly a powerful shinobi, his metal breastplate radiating with power, stepped in the establishment, murmurs following him as he stepped silently, walking to the counter.
When they reached it, they stretched their back, looked to the left, and pulled out a stool to the right of a shaggy blond.
He asked him a question.
"You took me on quite a chase, I didn't even knew you had caught on to me and you were gone, travelling from shack to shack. I'll admit it, you're good."
The man smiled, sharp teeth and features aligned with an inquisitive look, peering at the man bent over his drink, unassuming to the rest of the bar but clearly somewhat important.
"Now now, I don't want any action in my place." The burly, wide framed barkeeper spoke, evidently an ex-shinobi from the scars on his face and the silence of his actions. He was serious, and the threat behind his words was too.
The blue haired man put his hands in the air in an effort to placate. "All is fine, I swear, I just wanted to talk to this guy. I guess you could say I'm his biggest fan, and I wanted a chance to meet him."
The smile didn't leave his face, but the man's eyes closed as his face stretched. It wasn't an uncommon move to close your eyes to let your opponent down, though this time could have been the man simply expressing himself.
The blond lifted his head up, looking at the man from under his fringe, then he spoke with a gravelly voice. "Sure, take the lead"
The blue hair smiled a bit more genuinely, as he stalked out of the door, clearly expecting the man too follow. To every shinobi's surprise, they actually did. Probably the most obvious trap in the world, and they walked into it.
Wasn't this guy supposed to be good?
…
They walked from the bar, then a small distance more. Soft mud squelched under softer sandals and much harder feet, rugged from walks and wars. Eventually the men stopped.
"I was being honest, y'know? I do actually want to speak to you."
Rain started falling. The blonde remained silent. The other didn't turn.
"Is it true you killed the Second Raikage?"
A burst of killing intent rushed at the mans back, but only for an instant, and when he turned, the man simply looked, unimpressed. Cold steel eyes shining under ragged hair.
"Yes."
The other's eyes lit up, and he started smiling even more. He looked to be vibrating with excitement, like a child on Christmas day, wanting a new hot wheel or some shit (Fuck if he knew after all this time). Kumori thought to himself that this day was going to be a long one.
"Ok, info for info, I'm the jiinjuriki of the 3-tailed beast."
Kumori's eyes widened for the first time since he killed the old man.
"Which means, I need your help to kill the people who want me to die to release the 3-tails."
Kumori sighed. "You put it together then. Yes, I want them dead, the fuckers trying to control us I mean, as much as you want them, and they want you. My only question then, is why did you approach me?"
The man's smile reached his eyes one again, closing them with a force. "You're the reason I left them, the reason I fought back. I heard you kill Hanzo, and I though, that if I tried, I really could change things. So partners?"
Kumori looked at the hand stretched towards him.
"Let's call it a student teacher relationship. You still have a lot to learn. Actually, I think we should start now."
Their first drill? Rain based endurance running.
…
Right jab high
Left jab mid
Roundhouse anticlockwise into a reverse roundhouse with the same spin
Bringing the same leg and slamming it into the ground.
None of this hit Kumori, but it was an improvement from the vague coupling together of street brawling and shitty martial arts Shi had put together over his years. The evidence of that fact was clear from the spiderweb cracks in the ground, and the upturned mud his leg had buried into.
Honestly Kumori was improving just as much as his student, he thought as he weaved between attacks, steadily disturbing the formerly solid balance of his partner until he was flipped over by a swipe from beneath, an arm to the torso assisting with a takedown, immobilising and winding him simultaneously.
He had never really had a training partner that could keep up with him, excepting the Rain 4, but they kept to themselves and usually fought as a team, where Kumori didn't stand a chance.
He wondered if that was true now?
The heavy mist of the country protected Kumori from the Cloud death squads and Shi from the 'rescue' squads that had been sent after him, like some kind of overprotective grandfather, progenitor to Shi even with his extra natural origins. Kumori was impressed by the runaway jinjuriki's drive, and he was strong for his age, even factoring in the tailed beast's inherit advantage. Not as strong as he was (He had killed hanzo at 19, and Shi was about the same age) but it was still impressive considering the average dumbass that died as a genin, and if you factored in Shi's unfortunate hot-headedness, he was leagues above the average shinobi.
The wind howled with a distant serenity, the harshness a welcome home for two wandering warriors. It brushed against the dew matted grass, overcast by the grey fog-mist of the early morning, bare rays of light trying to push through impossibly small gaps and never making it through.
Not giving up, Shi leapt up with a kick, then sprinted ahead, keeping low as he pursued the retreating Kumori, aiming to uppercut, just as his opponent stepped to the side of the ferocious blow. Kumori used his arms to redirect Shi, leading him to the side, and into the floor once again, with Shi just barely managing to plant his legs, arms holding onto Kumori's own, as he rotated in an attempt to bring kumori down.
His teacher smirked, somewhat proud due to Shi managing to learn how to deal with his attack the second time he had seen it, and more so filled with a sadistic glee at the opening he had been given, as he was lifted into the air, using the upwards momentum to deliver a kick to the nose, then stopping himself with the same leg's knee resting on Shi's neck, as he transitioned to be in the prime position to strike as Shi's head with a fist from above, the blow shooting down with a titanic force, and dazing Shi completely, allowing Kumori to ride his head as he slowly fell down from his standing position, the knee planted right on his windpipe.
After a few seconds of choking to make sure he was unconscious, Kumori let off, and walked over to the makeshift camp they had set up the day before, taking a kettle of the fire, as he took the bunches of small tea leaves and placed them in a pot, letting the boiling water blanket it, mixing with the leaves and giving a calm and unique hue to the beverage. He poured two cups and set the second one across from himself.
Before the tea had fully cooled, Shi woke up, rubbing his head with pain, despite his improved healing taking care of the injury already. He groaned, then said under his breath, "Really, again?" as he walked to sit across from Kumori, who was mid-sip.
"So, you have improved, but-"
"Yeah, 'Not enough', I know our motto at this point."
Kumori gave a sadistic grin at that.
"I have pursued the leads you gave me on your former handlers, the reincarnates I mean. You and I, are going to kill them."
Shi's eyes lit up at the end, hope increasing, sunshine optimism that a sadistic kill could be delivered unto those that wronged him.
"You will come, but you have to do whatever I say, and, we have to be a team. No berserker bullshit, unless I say so of course."
"Sure boss! When do I get to kill them?"
…
Night was cast; dark gods plotting crime against the light.
Rain splashed; signs of disturbed nature so small no man could see.
Footsteps weren't heard; those that plotted moving with unnatural silence.
The two stopped. Hands moved in a foreign tongue, plans drawn in excess in an absence of time.
They moved.
Two men were stationed at the entrance of the camp. They were tired, the end of their shift soon, as the resent lull of man power had stretched out their schedules by just a bit, and their patients thin. Perhaps if they had a shorter day, or a small break, they would have seen the two stars that were lodged inside of their throats.
The blue haired ninja stalked inside, signalling his partner to cast a genjutsu to obscure his actions, as he headed to the outskirts of the perimeter, careful to stay in the equilibrium of the blindness of the inner guards and the obliviousness of the outer guards. He had to stay low and move fast. The illusion wouldn't last forever.
He reached the centre of the camp, a forward operating base for the western front of Water, a frontal bulwark for the possible Fire retaliations for Mist's raiding and pillaging, the poorer country taking advantage of Fire's plight and making what they could of their inherent naval superiority. There lay the commander's tent, but also, the far more important Hunter Nin barracks, loaded with weapons, supplies, and dangerous shinobi.
Shi looked up, seeing his mentor standing on the roof of the place he had grown up in for most of his second life, and signalled him to take the upper route. Kumori nodded, and retreated into the dark, allowing Shi to move closer.
Inside, the warm orange glow luring Shi to spy closer and closer, were two ninja, hunters both. They were stood, weary from travels, but intent to still work. They were the best of the best after all.
"The Sanbi is near, at least from our information." The man who spoke was short, yet had a voice deeper than most, the low baritones muffled by his white Mist issue mask.
"Information that could be flawed. The idiot could be past Stone for all we know." Came a cranky, nasally voice, discomfort apparent from his speech.
"Well, that doesn't change our orders. Find him and kill him. It'll let him come out just in time for us to use against Konoha."
The other man nodded, and sighed, turning away to prepare for his rest, when he thought of something else, and turned to speak to his companion, who had a sword sticking out of the front of his mask, the thing piercing both porcelain and brain matter. Blood dripped from the blade, slowly flowing from the tip down to the razor-sharp blade it was built for.
The Nin tried to alert his fellow solider, but no sound came out of his throat. He would have shouted himself dry, if a silent bullet hadn't rang through his head, force rippling through his skull, brain destroyed near instantly.
Kumori left the silencing seal where he had put it, hanging from the ceiling, as he dropped down next to his student, holding a freshly de-skulled blade. The two looked at each other, expressions lifeless, then they turned to the rest of the barracks, prepared to finish the job they had started.
…
When they were finished, 2 Genin and 36 Hunter Nin were dead. Their bodies weren't discovered until 10 minutes after they had left. The Hunter Nin who had been lured in were killed by the inevitable blanket of sleep, and the invincible Hunters had become the hunted.
With that, a message had been sent to the secret order of SI's that wanted Shi dead, since they raised him from a young age.
They were going to fight.
…
"How is isobu treating you?"
The question came after the jinjuriki had suddenly moved after an hour of meditation, sat cross legged in the lotus position.
"He's, less hostile than last time. He has refused power, like every other time, but he did say that he would help in dire circumstances"
"Ha! So he means he'll help you only if it would kill an immortal being. So noble, this turtle."
Shi looked with annoyance at Kumori. Eyes blazing with a new found pride.
"He isn't selfish, just cautious, you could learn a lot from him, you know!"
Kumori hummed in interest, and unimpressed blankness on his face. "Like what?"
"Why do you kill people?"
Kumori smiled in amusement. "Self-defence, hate, want, desire, any and all, take your pick."
"No, those are excuse for killing. Why do you actually kill people?"
The smile dropped from Kumori's face, his features still while a gust of wind blowed his unkempt hair lightly. He stared with thought, lips apart by only the smallest distance as he contemplated what his student had just said.
Without another word, he walked away. Steps silent under the blowing of the winds.
The two lived a simple, stratified life. Morning they would eat, usually meat, then spar. They would drink tea together after the victor had been found (Always Kumori, though Shi came closer and closer each day), and discuss how to improve. Then they would train their bodies, physical training, as well as their chakra, techniques practised until bloody fingers and rend minds. Self-improvement, a personally journey the two took apart, then comparing their ideas over lunch.
Then, until dinner, they did teamwork.
Slowly, but surely, they were becoming a duo, sharp and strong enough to pierce the heavens and kill the gods. Stealth kills, pure destruction, and a fluidity that flowed like water and cut like wind.
Yet Kumori's eyes became distant, as he forged them both into perfect warriors. His motivation steadily changed, more and more clouded until it was shrouded by a thick mist.
Why did he choose to fight?
Kumori shoved a kunai at his opponent, his foe slipping around the strike just barely and stepping to the side as the blade pieced the brown door behind him. He abandoned the buried weapon, rushing to the side as his opponent leapt through a window, Kumori diving after him, unfastening his assault rifle to blast his target with lead tipped rounds. Mid-air, he had to dodge a wind bullet aimed at him by twisting his body, but Kumori realigned himself by unsealing a wooden cube and blasting of it, reaching the ground with a powerful thud as he rolled, aiming his weapon at his target and riddling him with holes before he even reached the ground, body hitting the ground with a hard thud.
Just in front of Kumori's new position, Shi smashed his fist into a kunoichi's guard, blowing her back with the force and slamming her through a street vendor's wooden stall, before turning and beginning to force back a much taller opponent, forced to unseal his katana to fight with the stoic titan's larger nodachi. Kumori decided to attack the woman, firing a burst into the barricade, then spawning a clone to continue its suppression, as he went in closer with a body flicker, transitioning into a slide. He came out behind the wooden wreck, and saw nothing? The kunoichi came out from the wood, an illusion making he blend in, as she jabbed a fist of senbon at Kumori's face. Then the hand was stopped, as Kumori smashed his fist in the woman's kidney, before pulling her towards him, and slamming his palm into her elbow joint, breaking her left arm. She cried out in pain, before Kumori's arm smothered her, escorting her into unconsciousness.
He then rushed to Shi, his clone having been destroyed moments before, as he saw him trading sword blows with the larger man, both fighter's bodies slick with a scarlet fuel, as they ferociously danced between each other's attacks, lashing out with twin blows, steel reflecting of steel as they pushed every inch of their bodies. Kumori didn't interfere just then, if he missed his attack the larger one would get away like before and get more reinforcements to try and kill Shi with. Instead, he unsealed his own blade, a wide bladed machete, and waited. Steel flashed. Blood dripped. An overhead, and there! In an instant the large man's head was sliced off, floating above his stump for what felt like an eternity, when it was simply a breathless second. Kumori looked at his ally, and he looked back, and both smiled. Then Shi collapsed.
Moonlight shined from above, black background illuminated by godly objects, explainable only by science and religion, casting white rays on the numerous blades of grass, a rare clear day in Water country.
Kumori was sat, silent, legs stretched over blades of grass gripping to the last remnants of water they had, his beard longer now, and his face in contemplation.
The faded chirping of crickets somewhat masked Shi's approach.
"Hey" Kumori said, not bothering to disturb his peace by turning around.
"What are you doing?"
Soft breaths came from Kumori's nose, relaxed yet revealing his contained strength built over years of training
"I have found my reason for fighting, a good reason."
Shi looked taken aback, surprised Kumori remembered what he had said. It must have stuck with him as he asked just over a year ago.
"At the start of all of this, I wanted strength because I was weak. Because I was running from death, and I wanted to destroy anything that could threaten me. I clawed my way to Chunin, Jonin, and then I found a new reason. Habit. Identity. I wanted to be strong because it defined me, and so I grew strong enough to kill a legend, and so I killed to become more powerful. For myself, again, but this time more destructive.
Then I was betrayed, and again I killed to survive, because I believed I should live where less murderous men perished. But then I resolved to kill out of revenge. Hate. To destroy those that had destroyed me. Those who had taken my power away from me. But that was an excuse really. I just wanted to kill, to make myself feel useful, strong again. I didn't win there, so I had to prove my victory in other ways.
All my second life I have killed because I made it define me. I won't stop, but I need a new reason. One that actually makes sense. I can't be a good person, I'm far past that, but I want to be a person, not just a being of hate and death and destruction.
That reason, I have decided, will be to stop those men from killing you to release the 3-tails. I have moral standards and killing 1 child and scarring two others for whatever convoluted plan they want to create goes against them, so no matter how self-indulgent it is, I want that to be my new reason for fighting. I want my kills to matter."
Student looked at mentor, and the older man seemed to have the moonlight bounce of him in a different way now, sharp lines making him look determined, more than ever before, and bluish light making him glow with a half-holiness.
Shi looked his teacher in the eyes, gum present in a wide smile, and said: "That's as good a reason as any."
A/N: Sorry for this coming out when it did, I got sick for an entire week, and had to catch up on some work, which has delayed this somewhat. Originally this was going to be a longer chapter, but I decided this part works pretty well standalone and I wanted a chapter out as soon as possible.
Kumori found a student, and from that new relationship, was given a new goal and purpose in life. I wanted Kumori to always be a more dysfunctional character than most, as if some random guy wouldn't really know what to do or why they fight, and most of the bloodlust and killing driven by habit, as morbid as it sounds. Shi is intended to be a more classical shonen character, and is a jinjuriki because I like answering questions like "who has isobu before Rin?" and "What would a doomed jinjuriki SI do?"
In case it wasn't clear, Shi was taken care of by a secret society of Si's. This is part of another concept, being the idea that Ninja, future knowledge, and multiple people in a close vicinity planning shit is a recipe for carnage, though you should ask yourself, how is the world still adjacent to the canon story? It is almost as if a sort of Fate or Gravity is pulling it to a preferred place.
Thank you for sticking with the story even through its low points, and thanks especially for any reviews. They give more motivation to any reader you give them to, so make sure to review every small story you like.
Also, read Vinland Saga, it's very good.