"How do those eyes work anyway?" Kisame couldn't help but ask after some time.
They'd ventured forth from the temple, headed towards a village a good distance away. The meeting point she'd decided on with the Fog, she'd told him.
"How do they work? I have no earthly idea. If you're asking about what they can do, I can answer that, though a lot of it I can't pull off yet," she answered.
The rain had stopped some time ago and the moon was hanging high in the sky. The cold was soothing, and with each breath he took as they jogged across the water, he could smell the sea. Kisame felt settled in a way he'd rarely been before.
"How do you know what's possible if you can't do it?" He asked. The more he learned about these eyes of hers - the Rinnegan, eyes of the Sage of Six Paths, honest! - the less he understood.
"Ah. Hmm. I'm enlightened? Yeah, that," she answered.
"You're enlightened," he repeated under his breath. "Sure, whatever the hell that means. You said you wanted to learn Water Release, why not try to master those eyes of yours first? Seems like it'd be more effective, considering the shit you can pull from your ass with those."
"I'll have you know that turning into a cyborg, ripping out souls and mastering ninjutsu at breakneck speeds are all perfectly sensible abilities for a pair of eyes to have," she said.
Kisame blinked. "Uh-huh."
"The process isn't the same," she responded more seriously. "Uncovering the abilities of the Rinnegan is an almost metaphysical process. Meditation, exploring your soul, that kind of stuff. Mastering ninjutsu is a lot easier in comparison, and I can do it whenever wherever, pretty much. Besides, there's a reason I wear this mask. There are people out there, few of them, but still, that know what purple eyes with rings stand for. I'd rather they not know there's a pair of them in the hands of a novice over here in the Mist."
The island they came from had disappeared from view. On all sides, there was naught but mist and water.
"That makes sense," he said after some thought. "Use the eyes only if you don't want survivors in the first place. Master ninjutsu so you don't have to rely on 'em. Alright. So if I'm gonna teach you, I gotta know how to. You learn fucking fast, so should I just show you shit and you do your I comprehend all shtick?"
"Don't mock the Enlightened One, Kisame. It's bad karma, you'll be reborn as a fish."
A strangled laugh escaped him as he walked. "Forgive me, Enlightened One. So?"
"Teaching me specific techniques doesn't help with my goal, which is mastery. You need to teach me from the ground up, which shouldn't take too long considering the magic eyes and all. It's- hm. How to explain. I can see the chakra and its flow, but there's another sense beyond that. I can't quite put it into words, but it's as if whenever chakra moves, it speaks to me, ya know? This is the path I take. This is my intent. It's as if it wants me to understand, is how I would put it."
Kisame saw the island in the distance, a silhouette hidden by mist. They were close.
"Yeah, that sounds like bullshit to me," he responded. "But I can work with it. We'll start once we're on land. So what else is on the list besides Water Release?"
"A shit ton. Medical jutsu is up there. The other nature transformations, once I've mastered water. Uh, the Raikage can coat his body in lightning, and there's no reason that shouldn't work with the other elements. What the Tsuchikage uses - is it Soot Release? Dust Release? Whatever it is, I think it can be learned. No clue where to even start with that one though. Hmm, there's-"
"Alright, alright," Kisame interjected. "That's a lot. No clue where you'd get the time for it all."
"We'll get there when we get there," she replied.
Their feet stepped on land once more, and the nigh unnoticeable strain of walking on water for extended periods disappeared with it. Much of the island they found themselves on was obscured by hills, and what little remained was shrouded in mist and the darkness of night.
"Seiyoda should be to the west," Touka said. "Beyond those hills."
"Let's get going then," Kisame said. "You considered what to do about the response you'll get from Kiri yet? You've been flying under the radar because there's not a lot to your group, but you just killed a team of chunin. And it won't take a genius to figure out I defected, so odds are it'll be hunter-nin they send."
"Yeah I've been shooting from the hip so far, so I've got nothing. The two of us should be enough for any team they send, but it gets more tricky once we're back with the Fog. I've spent way too much time idealoguing to those guys to let 'em be collateral."
"We'll work something out then," he said. As they crested the hill, Kisame spotted the village down below.
Seiyoda was a quaint little place located by a river. Amidst the lean-tos and tents were a few actual stone houses, a rarity this far from both the daimyo's court and Kirigakure. Encircling it all was an earthen wall of a height with the tallest building, a gap designating the entrance. Small figures bundled up in furs walked to and from within.
Touka stopped him once they reached the foot of the hill. "Let's try to look a little more inconspicuous. People this far out don't hold shinobi in very high regard."
She pulled off her mask as she spoke, and the eyes beneath were a simple, soft brown. Kisame followed suit by pulling off his headband, something he should've gotten around to sooner. He got rid of his vest, debated with himself for a moment, then decided to simply toss it aside. When only his blade was left, he hesitated. It wasn't some kind of masterwork, but it was still his, after all.
"You can toss that too," Touka said beside him. "I told you I have four of the seven swords, right? You can have one of those."
Kisame couldn't help but smile at that. If you play your cards right, you might even wield one of the Seven someday, he'd once been told. It seemed he'd taken a shortcut without even knowing.
Once Touka deemed them both sufficiently civilian-like in appearance, they resumed their trek. They adjusted the pace to something more meandering, Kisame tossed on a henge, and off they went.
"We have a cover story yet?" Kisame asked as he eyed the gate up ahead.
Touka looked at him, then shook her head with a laugh. "Shinobi, I swear. We don't have one. If they ask, we tell 'em we're terrorists plotting the downfall of Kirigakure. Odds are we'll get a free meal out of it."
"Huh," Kisame said. A strange thought, one he'd never considered before. "Wait, why are we trying to look like civilians if we're admitting to being terrorists?"
"It's about associations and first impressions. If we had a scroll and the knowledge, I'd say let's seal it all and we can pull it out later, but that's a no-go. If you go out and greet people looking like their oppressors, you've blown your shot before you even open your mouth."
"I guess you'd know. You've lived your whole life in Water?"
She made a so-so gesture with her available hand. They'd bandaged the injured shoulder, but it still hung limply at her side. "Depends on your definition of 'whole', but let's go with yes. I ran away from home very young, joined the monastery, got kicked out, became a homeless vagabond, and then- bam! Magic eyes."
Ah, there was the temple connection. He'd known the Fog liked to hide out in the abandoned temples but had never grasped why. Sentimentality was the answer, it seemed. Or perhaps nostalgia. Or spite, at getting kicked out?
"Lucky you got kicked out, huh? Would've burned with the rest if you'd been there," Kisame said.
"In retrospect, sure. At the time, though? Man. I was- thirteen? Went from shelter, food, and safety all taken care of to being a bum in the wilderness. I was paranoid, frightened, I didn't know how to forage or hunt or even camp. Even in the villages, nobody's giving out jobs to unknown thirteen-year-olds without any relevant skills," Touka recounted. Despite the subject matter, there was a soft smile playing on her lips, a silent kind of melancholy.
An elderly woman passed them by as they walked, haggard and thin, carrying a bucket full of fish on her head. Touka shot her a grin and a 'hello,' but the woman responded to neither. Her lips pursed and she increased her pace, leaving them behind.
"Lovely people," Kisame commented.
"Aren't they? I love her clothes too, it's very poverty chic," Touka said.
"Must be easy to pull off when you're poor," Kisame said with a laugh.
"Mm. Stylish and thin. What can't poverty do for you, at this point?" she asked.
Kisame huffed to stop himself from laughing even more. "So why not become a shinobi?"
"After the temple, you mean?"
"At any point," he responded. "If food, shelter and safety were your main concerns, Mist would've taken care of those, despite its flaws."
"I needed a lot of time to- let's say adapt. I had a lot of issues I needed to get over. Didn't have the stomach for it either. Took me a lot of time to get used to the sight of blood, a lot more to get used to all the death. And besides all that, I didn't have the temperament. Or maybe you'd call it the moral fiber," she explained.
Kisame was about to follow up on her remarks when a man stepped through the gate. A thin and reedy man of middle age, taller than most, with clothes a little less on the poverty chic side, as Touka would call it.
"Halt, outsiders," he yelled. "What business do you have in Seiyoda? You with the government? The Mist?"
Touka stepped in front of him and seized the initiative right away. "The opposite," she said. Her eyes crinkled and her lips quirked up as she approached the man. "Name's Touka, this is Kisame. I've been called 'lowlife terrorist' a lot recently, but let's say we're mercenaries."
Even though Touka had told him it would happen, it was still startling to see the change in expression. What was guarded hostility became inviting warmth in the blink of an eye.
"Welcome to Seiyoda, then," the man said. "Name's Ueda. I guess I'm the one in charge right now."
Touka shook his hand first and Kisame followed suit after. He'd been expecting the man to lead them into the village, but it didn't happen. Instead, Ueda huddled closer to them, looking the pair of him and Touka up and down.
"Might want to keep quiet about that job of yours, though. One of 'em accursed bloodliners is here right now, and I've been told they don't look too kindly upon those muscling in on their business," he confided in them.
Accursed bloodliners. He'd known and heard that people didn't have a high opinion of kekkei genkai users outside the Mist, but to see it this clearly was still strange to him.
Touka tilted her head. "Shinobi this far out? He told you what he wanted?"
Ueda bit his lip, conflicted.
"I've killed enough shinobi to know their senses aren't that good," Kisame said. "If it's being overheard you're worried about."
Ueda's eyes landed on him and Kisame held his gaze for a few seconds. Then, the man chuckled. "Was about not getting you mixed up in Seiyoda's shit, no reason for you to be. But if you say you've killed shinobi before, well. Changes things, provided you're honest."
"Knowing what happened doesn't mean I'll get involved, my guy. Let me hear it," Touka told him.
"Fucker came here yesterday," Ueda began. "Had a talk with the village elder hereabouts, with us folks watching from inside the walls. Then, guy slaps the earth and a spear made of mud runs the elder through. Tells us we've been giving missions out to mercs instead of handing them to his folk. Been paying people in these parts for protection instead of paying him."
Throughout his tale, Touka's eyes had narrowed considerably. There was a hard edge to her plain features that looked intimidating even without the eyes.
"So why's he still here?" Kisame asked. "Message delivered and all that, right?"
"Hah!" Ueda exclaimed. "If only. Fucking bloodliner says to us that back pay is in order. Lots of money, shipments of rice and fish. Says he'll raise our taxes for the next few years, too. And then he looks at us and says 'I'll be here for the week. If I don't have what I want before I leave, I'll drown this village in mud.' Fucking psycho. Whole reason we stopped paying his kind is cause they weren't doing their fucking jobs, you know? They were off killing each other in that war of theirs, and good riddance!"
There was a long silence once Ueda finished his story, broken by Touka once Ueda's face wasn't quite as flushed.
"Say, who is it he's collecting these taxes for?" she asked. A strange question, too. Kisame would've asked where the guy was staying, or for him to describe the kekkei genkai in detail.
Ueda didn't understand the question either, it seemed. "For his kind. Him and the other accursed ones, no clue where they're even putting all the money."
And then, Kisame began to understand. Not once throughout the entire tale had Ueda mentioned the Mist. Was there a clan ruling the area? That seemed unlikely, considering. The likelihood of Lord Third allowing a bloodline to rule their own slice of Water unchecked was slim at best.
"Nice to know," Touka said. "If I do decide to get mixed up in Seiyoda business, I'll tell you well in advance. Thanks for sharing."
Ueda patted her on the back. "I'd like to show you around, but most everybody is busy trying to get those shipments together right now. Welcome to Seiyoda, friends." And with that, he walked off with hurried steps.
Touka and he followed Ueda inside the walls. Indeed, there were very few people on the streets, most, as Ueda had explained, undoubtedly busy. The few that were around shot them suspicious looks and walked on.
"So this guy's a bandit?" Kisame asked. "Declared himself king of the region?" Even as he said it though, it didn't ring true.
Touka led him down the main road with no particular aim beyond exploring.
"Hmm. If I was a bandit king, I'd stick to flat taxes. Ueda's guy is complaining about missions and protection money," she said.
"Yeah, that kind of stuff is more hidden village territory," Kisame said slowly. And then it clicked. "He's with the Mist?"
"Odds are," Touka told him.
"So what am I not seeing? People hate bloodlines so much they get angry at them instead of the ones giving the order, is that it?"
"Not quite," Touka said. "It's a matter of presentation. Were you ever sent on a mission like this? Collect taxes owed, pacify a village, kill some people to make an example of 'em?"
"Pretty sure I wasn't," Kisame responded after some thought.
"You wouldn't be. Since the Third's inauguration, he's been sending those with kekkei genkai only. The two times I've seen this happen, the shinobi he sent walked around the village without their forehead protectors. Not in a team, alone. Never even said a word about the Mizukage or the Mist. Phrasing's deliberate, too. Taxes aren't owed to us, or the Mist, but to me. When demonstrating their powers, they use their bloodline only. Curious, huh?"
"That," Kisame began, then stopped to rack his brain. "Alright, so how's that work? You can send them alone cause their bloodlines are powerful enough to do the job? That doesn't make sense though. Any chunin would be enough to get a village like this in line."
"Pressure," Touka said. "It's a clever trick. The Land of Water is not only large, but fractured, what with the islands and all. And even if you find everyone with a kekkei genkai, if you force them into service, will they be loyal? If you want everyone with a bloodline in your ranks, how do you go about doing it?"
"Pressure," Kisame realized. "You don't want to leave the country you were born in, but you're hated everywhere you go. What do you do? Go to the one place you know you'll be welcomed."
"There you go. The likelihood of civil war between those with bloodlines and those without increases drastically, but why would I care if I'm Mizukage? I have a monopoly on power in the region, I can weather the storm. All the deaths will only increase the pressure on the survivors to join me. And even if you figure out what's happening, what are you going to do? Go up against the Mizukage?"
"That's- kind of brilliant," Kisame admitted. "But also short-sighted. If it continues like this, it'll reach a point where the villagers will take up arms against the shinobi, right? Where do you get your money if you're killing all the people that are giving it to you?"
"That's the neat part," Touka said. "If you plan it right, you won't be the one in charge when shit hits the fan. And the Third is up there, as far as age goes."
That was... a lot. A lot to unpack and think about.
"Alright," Kisame sighed. "All the revelations aside, what do we do here? We just wait for your guys to arrive?"
"Our guys," Touka corrected. "And nah, that'd be a waste. Here's what I've got, and again, I'm still shooting from the hip. We talk to the folks around here and figure out if we can shift the blame away from the bloodlines and back to where it belongs. Second, and this one we should get to first, we visit the mud guy, wherever he is."
"Visit visit, or just visit?" Kisame asked with a grin.
"Depends. He'll get to hear my manifesto first, if he wants to or not. We'll see how receptive he is and go from there."
"Right, shoot from the hip," Kisame echoed. "Join the revolution or die, huh?"
Touka pulled a face. "Dude, don't make me sound so evil."
"Is that not what we're doing?" Kisame asked.
"It's n- I mean, yeah, I guess it is. But it's not like I have a choice! And anyway, I'm only killing ninjas."
"Hey, whoever it is we're killing, I'm with ya, don't have to justify yourself."
"I love the enthusiasm Kisame, but the presentation is- Whatever, we'll get there. I have faith. Come on, let's find a place to sleep."
And so it was. Two lowlife terrorists looking for a place to sleep in quaint Seiyoda, waiting for the other terrorists. And if things went well, he'd get to kill a guy with a bloodline he hadn't seen before tomorrow.
"Kisame, you need to tune down the bloodthirst in that smile of yours."
"Yes, ma'am."
Life was truly looking up for Kisame Hoshigaki.