The high sun beat down on the mountainside. Desiccated plants and trees glimmered in the light. The earth darkened with dessication, cracked pieces resting on the ground and earth steadily.
Shattered puppet pieces littered the ground, dust and broken pieces of ceramics resting across the mountain path. Droplets of salt water crossed the ground. The rain clouds dispersed, the noonday sun pouring downward heavily.
"Seriously, how am I supposed to explain this excess?" Rubbing his temples, Sasori glanced upward heavily. He remained motionless in the remnant pieces of Hiruko. "I've been forced to use my last resort. Even if it is against another member of Akatsuki, this is really something stupid." His eyes narrowed.
"Same goes for my end." Kisame's eyes narrowed. He grinned broadly. "Seriously. You made yourself into a puppet? A living puppet doesn't have any role in the structures of this world. You'd be much more suited for our plan than anyone else, then." The bright sword glimmered as it rose in the air, the sheath shining brightly.
Sasori's eyebrows furrowed. "Our plan?" His hand fell to one side. "You're a loose-mouthed kind of guy." He studied Kisame's face, his expression meditative. His string glimmered, energy gathered around the edges of his fingers.
"You'd be a damn useful ally if I did manage to convert you. Those sculptures of yours. I ain't the type to appreciate art, but yours has a nice mixture with violence. Something in the metal of them. Some differences." Kisame smirked. "So because of that, I'm definitely much more interested in picking you up for use. You're a good blade, a good ally. That's the trick, right?"
Sasori's arm shifted downward. His fingers twitched briefly, adjusting a string against the side of the body. Crimson light spread from the tips of the fingers. A puppet string twisted around the Third Kazekage's neck. He's still usable, but I'll need some time to gather up the right amount of chakra. In that time I need to keep him occupied until we get things fixed up. "I'm listening," he stated aloud, his face immobile. He studied the blue-skinned figure before him.
"You probably get it, but the shinobi system is rotten from the roots up. War is only the most visible form of this lie. Everything is filled with this world's techniques, this will." Kisame scowled. "To be completely honest, I've never given a fish's tail about whether the shinobi system was corrupt or not. What I do care about is this. It's dishonest. It's filled with nothing but lies and deceptions. Shadows. When I fight an enemy I want them to be facing me head-on, not hiding behind a mask."
Sasori's eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you think that I'd be interested in such an organization?" He tilted his head to one side. What's going on here? What does he want? He studied Kisame's face briefly. I have to draw as much information as I can out of him, from here.
"Ain't it obvious? A world without lies means you get your freedom back." Kisame paused. He cleared his throat. "You're a guy who wants to construct art, right? You gotta have some freedom to do that. Art isn't understood by this world, so if you have a world without lies, you'd have freedom to act."
Sasori studied the head of the Third Kazekage. "How is this 'world without lies' meant to be constructed?" He stretched his finger outward, the string twisting around his finger and twitching.
Iron flecks gathered upward in the top of the head. The jaw yawned open as energy gathered. The Third Kazekage's jaw rested downward, energy pressing outward from the jaw. The black chakra gathered around the open mouth.
"That I can't tell you unless you agree to work for our people." Kisame smirked broadly, his shark teeth glimmering. He tightened his grip on the sword, bright light shimmering off the edge of the blade.
I need more time. Sasori studied Kisame's face. He adjusted his fingers on the strings. "One more question. I understand if you can't talk about who leads you. That much is a piece of information even Akatsuki keeps from us. What I would like to know is this. How many members do you have?"
Kisame's eyes narrowed suspiciously. After a long moment, he responded. "I don't see that knowing our numbers could truly benefit you. There are twenty of us. You'd make twenty-one." He adjusted his grip on his weapon.
Sasori's eyebrows furrowed. "Twenty?" he questioned. "And they're all S-Rank shinobi or greater?" He adjusted his position. He leaned forward, his expression remaining silent and quiet.
"Most of 'em. About ten got recruited already. But ten came from those two's work. We got some prisoners to join us." Kisame grinned broadly. "But enough of this." His smile faded. "Are you with us or not?" He tightened his grip on his sword, stepping forward.
Nearly done. I can't keep this conversation running without subterfuge. Sasori paused. "No. Not interested, sorry. I really have no interest in turning on my comrades. You were already a member, so it's different for you." He paused, turning away. "On the other hand, I do think cutting and running wouldn't be a bad idea now."
"Heh?" Kisame's head tilted to one side. "What're you on about?" His brow ridges furrowed. "You don't want to join us?" He stepped forward, his hand grasping the sword more tightly. His stance shifted, gathering together into a position of strength.
"I don't want to die. You said earlier your people were only interested in protecting the Tailed Beasts. That's no longer something that I can deny. You win." Sasori bowed his head heavily. "No matter, but my honor is temporary and incidental. I surrender myself to it. Please don't kill me."
"Heh. You coward." Kisame's eyes narrowed. "That's all it amounts to? Your resolve of honor?" He let the sword descend toward the ground, the sky glimmering in the light of the sword's bright edge.
"Honor is useful only so long as the art of a thousand years is preserved. You spoke earlier about the order of my art. I cannot commit myself to a path that would be insignificant. No matter what. If my honor would destroy that, hang it." Sasori turned away. He walked down the mountain path quickly.
Kisame raised his sword over his head. Yelling suddenly, he flipped toward Sasori. He bent the sword backward, spinning rapidly through the air as he brought the sword crashing downward on the earth.
Sasori whipped around. A smirk crossed his lips. "You really think I'd say that?!" he shouted, his lips curling upward. He yanked his hand backward, the crimson string spreading outward from his fingertips.
The Third Kazekage lunged forward. A massive iron spear shot toward Kisame's back. The spear stretched out from the arm, glimmering bright and piercing toward Kisame's side in an instant of motion.
Kisame's eyes widened. He tumbled forward, stifling the spear in his cloak. A muffled grunt escaped his lips. Drops of blood spilled onto the ground, glimmering in the light of the burning sun.
"You shouldn't turn your back on something even if you're certain it's dead. Always confirm its death." Sasori snorted. He turned away from Sasori. His black robes billowed upward. "That's why you lost today, Hoshigaki Kisame."
"That so?" Kisame demanded. He rose to his feet. "I'm still standing." He reached sideways, pressing his fingers against the bloodied cut on his side. His fingers trembled as he stepped forward.
"Yes, perhaps. But my poison has been developed quite specifically. Even if you are a freak, there's a limitation to how much poison you can tolerate. That is a simple fact of being human. If you are in any way human, you will die from poison." Sasori sighed heavily. "If I were cut with it, even I would have troubles. However, I have an antidote just in case. You do not." He tapped his chest briefly. "That is the difference between our preparation."
Kisame's eyes narrowed. He's not wrong. In the next two or three minutes I'm probably going to collapse. I have to settle it in that time frame, then. He drew in a deep breath. Afterwards. He tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword. I'm not going to have an afterwards if I don't focus myself totally. He's right; I screwed up on one of the basic rules of combat. He shifted his stance. One of his hands lifted in the air. "Hidden in the Mist." Mist rose up from the ground.
Ah? Sasori's eyebrows furrowed. Silent Killing. It's an old technique, but one quite natural to a Swordsman of the Hidden Mist. But of course he's underestimated me again. Of course I have strategies to counter this technique. His eyes flashed momentarily red.
An outline of hot red energy glowed in the underbrush. The image of the sword glimmered brightly in the reflected image of heat. Bright light spilled downward from the tips of the sword's edge.
Got you. Sasori lowered his arm. A gout of flames penetrated the mist, sending steam flying upward. He stepped forward, studying the charred form on the ground. His eyes suddenly widened.
The enormous blade pierced through Sasori's side, aiming toward his heart on his left side. Ceramic pieces tumbled downward, chipped and broken by the sharp teeth at the edge of the sword.
"How?" Sasori demanded, his eyes wide. He stared at the blade piercing through his side, blood trickling from the energy of the teeth sword. The tip of the sword pressed against the edge of the heart.
"Shark meat tastes terrible grilled," Kisame remarked, smirking again. He held up the sword, aiming upward toward Sasori's heart. "You probably were sensing for my body heat, but that's pretty low. Rather than that you got one of the animals on this mountain. The shape would've been pretty blurry in this mist."
Sasori's hands clapped together. A log replaced his body, a puff of smoke forming through the air. The air glimmered, light pouring downward.
Kisame's eyes widened. "Eh?!" he demanded, staring at the punctured log. He tightened his grip on the sword. Substitution Technique? Right now? I didn't even think he could use that, let alone that'd he'd be that prepared. Damn him, anyway!
That was way too damn close. Sasori rested against the tree, swallowing tightly. It's my win, but I had to sacrifice almost all my puppets and nearly my own body, and even then I'll need healing. If I'd not prepared that Substitution Technique earlier I'd be screwed. Is this the kind of monsters Hakubo fields all the time? He exhaled, his breath sharp and inhaling. Forget losing a few Tailed Beasts. The entire order of the villages is going to be destroyed.
Kisame collapsed into the dirt. Blood seeped from the single cut. "Damn you," he muttered. His eyelids trembled, briefly aiming toward closing or opening. He remained in place, his arm locked with pain and images.
A brief shadow moved through the forest. After a long second, a form appeared over the body, a shadow crossing Kisame's body. "Don't move," a soft voice remarked. Long fingers pressed into the wounds, inspecting the piece of metal left in the wound. A white robe covered their body.
Kisame gritted his teeth. "So you made it here. You're one of the new members?" he questioned briefly.
The figure inclined their head. They knelt, their fingers pressing against the flesh of the wound created.
"You shouldn't mess around with that kind of wound. It's made by Sasori. Even if you are a medic-nin, you can't do anything about it. That poison isn't that easy to alter." Kisame scowled. "You'll just make it worse."
The figure remained silent. They removed their fingers from the wound, however.
"What a figure of a shinobi I cut, huh?" Kisame chuckled. The laugh turned into a cough. "Getting caught by surprise. If I had a second chance, I swear I wouldn't make a mistake again."
The silent figure extended their hand. A silver blade formed at the tip of their fingers.
Kisame's eyes widened. "Eh?" He stared at the blade. He chuckled after a long moment. "Guess you can't afford someone as loose-mouthed as me, huh?" He leaned back. "Go ahead, then."
The silent figure drove the silver blade into the wound.
Kisame screamed loudly. "OW! What are you doing?! Just kill me already!" he barked loudly.
The silent figure lowered their hand.
Kisame's fingers twitched. He blinked.
"You shouldn't move." The figure disappeared again rapidly.