Trigger warning: This shit is fucked up.
Maguro
Maguro leapt over the spike pit and fell to his hands and knees, panting.
He'd made it to the finish line.
At first, Kihaku's training had been okay, but he'd spent the last several months doing the most brutal training of his life. Kihaku's obstacle courses were full of so many deadly traps, he couldn't believe he was still alive.
He'd been chased by rabid wolves. He'd been forced to run nonstop for three days. He'd been told to dig himself out, then buried under a pile of rocks.
"Next, you're going to move a mountain," Kihaku said. "But you can't use Ninjutsu. You'll carry the biggest piece you can one by one. You'd better finish in one week or I'll add an additional mountain."
"Why does my training suck so much!?"
"Because you suck so much." Kihaku said. "You wouldn't listen to anyone's advice about Ninjutsu, so I gave you something even you won't be able to fuck up. Train your body, then I'll teach you eight powerful taijutsu."
Kihaku left him there with some tools.
He grabbed a shovel and started digging away at the mountain, tossing dirt towards the way he came up. There was no way this was possible!
He threw the pickaxe and turned around. So he didn't notice it actually cleave through the tree it collided with.
This guy was just making fun of him, setting him up with hard ass training and not teaching him a dawn thing. Fuck him. He'd go back to cresting his ninjutsu.
He held out his hand and swirled his chakra around in it. "Rasengan!" He pushed the swirl of wind into a rock where it immediately petered out.
Right. That had never worked. It was never going to.
He began heading down the mountain. Maybe he'd just give up on being a ninja. He could try and become the world's best… the world's best what? He really wasn't good at anything.
He felt a sudden tug. It was his arm. It was pointing away from the village. He felt something out there, something calling to him.
Lately, he'd been feeling inexplicably pulled in that direction.
There was a dream he kept having.
Maguro stood alone in a vast, empty void. Suddenly, he felt a warmness that began in his fish arm, then spread through his body. And he felt powerful. And he felt secure. And he felt okay.
Before Maguro's eyes, a vibrant and otherworldly landscape materialized. Trees with leaves the color of iridescent jewels towered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the forest floor. A stream flowed nearby, its crystal-clear waters teeming with life. Fish-birds with feathers that glimmered like precious metals flitted through the trees.
Maguro was seated upon a throne made of the finest materials, crafted by the most skilled artisans in the land, crystals formed to majestic shapeless shapes. His eyes wandered over the horizon, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the ethereal nature that surrounded him.
The cultists knelt before Maguro with heads bowed, their faces painted with strange symbols in a mix of fear and reverence. They were dressed in silken white and gold robes, adorned with symbols of the corruption. Some held candles that flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the palace, while others had scales painted over their arms, symbols of their loyalty to Maguro.
Their voices rose in unison, chanting words in a language unknown to anyone except the most devoted followers of the corruption. The sound was like a chorus of whispers, haunting and unsettling. Their bodies swayed and trembled as if they were in a trance, their eyes glazed over as they gazed upon their leader with awe and worship.
Maguro sat upon his throne, his eyes closed as he absorbed the energy of their devotion. His fish arm gleamed in the candlelight, a beautiful and deadly weapon. His face was serene, as if he were in deep meditation, but his mind was far from peaceful.
He'd thought it was all in his head, but now his arm was pointing on its own. He understood now. The corruption was calling to him.
He remembered the horrid creatures that had attacked the village, so different from the beautiful vision he'd seen in his dream.
It was a lie. Of course it was. The corruption had only ever brought death and despair.
"Power."
He stumbled a bit as he heard the voice, clearly in his mind. "What kind of power?" He asked. But there was no response.
He couldn't deny that the corruption had power. Maybe. Just maybe.
He was suddenly standing back on that fantastical landscape. Before him was a pool of black liquid, glowing with a red aura. And he could feel the pool calling to him. He knew if he stepped in, it would be a sort of death. The weak useless Maguro would die, and the god-king Maguro would be born.
He found himself back on the mountain.
There was nothing left for him here. He was tired of all their laughter, or worse, their pity. He couldn't stand being the pathetic loser he was anymore. So he had nothing else to lose.
Maguro felt a chill run down his spine as he took his first steps into the Corruption. The twisted landscape was even more surreal up close, with jagged spires of spikes jutting out of the ground at odd angles and strange, writhing tendrils snaking their way through the air. The air was thick with an otherworldly energy that made him feel like he was walking through molasses.
But he had a purpose. A vision that had been planted in his mind by the Corruption itself. He was meant to find the source of its power and take it for his own. And so, with grim determination, he pushed forward.
As he walked, Maguro noticed that the beasts of the Corruption seemed to be paying him no mind. They would eye him curiously as he passed, but they made no move to attack. It was as if they recognized him as something other than prey.
Eventually, he came upon a great chasm. It was deep and wide, and the blackness within it seemed to stretch on for eternity. Maguro hesitated for only a moment. "Die," he said, before he plunged in.
As he fell, he could feel the Corruption all around him, wrapping him in its embrace. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before, both terrible and exhilarating. He could feel his body changing, mutating to better adapt to this new environment. He felt the sudden urge to vomit.
He screamed as all of the skin was ripped off of his body. He saw flashes of teeth, and claws, and every manner of savage destruction.