AN: Ok, so here is the first chapter is the mini-arc trilogy. I tried doing much of the set-up as I could so the next chapter is build-up until finally everything goes to shit in the last chapter. And trust me, things are going to go to shit on every side.
p.s. no beta, too lazy to edit. Please excuse any jank.
Warning(s): Violence (High), Mentions of Slavery (High), Genderbend (Mid), Language (Mid), Out of Character
…
Wasteland
The Akatsuki Arc
Chapter 64
"This is it," Kakuzu said, looking up from the invitation where they overlooked an expansion estate below. Afterall, why else would there be a mega-mansion built in the middle of nowhere? He then squirrelled the cardstock inside his black blazer and turned to Zetsu who was dressed a lot more casually in just an oversized muscle shirt and sweats in comparison to his tuxedo. "Let's go over this again: I get us in with Orochimaru's invitation and once inside, we find this Father bastard and kill him then get the fuck out. Understand?"
"Understood." Zetsu confirmed with a nod and a little smile as the innocent question reminded her of their old interactions. It impressed her how far their relationship had developed since those dark days.
"I don't know what we'll find in there nor how it'll go but just know this: do not take anything I say or do to you personally,"
"Of course not, Sir. Why would I? It's all an act. You wouldn't hurt me like that otherwise,"
"No, I wouldn't." Never again. Kakuzu thought but did not say. Instead, he laid a hand on her head and patted it like he did when she was a child, smirking behind his mask upon seeing her happiness from the nostalgic gesture. "Let's go." Grabbing her hand, he walked them towards the grand house.
As they got closer, Kakuzu saw an influx of other guests standing at the doors waiting to be let in; men, women, with or without "pets" and all dressed to the nines for this once-a-year, red tie event. There were also more coming, either on foot like them or by wagon and a few well-known faces loitering in the crowd but that was little surprise since Orochimaru did mention people as high as daimyos would be here. Kakuzu was glad to be under disguise lest he be identified by any one of the government officials attending also, including one very young Kage.
Getting in line, they waited too. An old woman in front of them who must've used perfume as a substitution for bathing and looked to have layered her make-up on with a paint roller tried to strike up a conversation with Kakuzu thar was more or less her attempts at flirting which went ignored. When that failed, she focused on Zetsu, inquiring where he had purchased her, stating how well-kept she was while pinching the woman's cheek and her muscular biceps, much to Zetsu's infinite discomfort.
With her was a tall yet malnourished man with black, sunken eyes highlighted with bright green eyeliner and dressed in a flamboyant pink dress that was frilled at the thighs and a pink, bedazzled hair bow over his thinning, dark hair. He was obviously the woman's "pet". His chakra let off such a sad, empty energy that it caused Zetsu's heart pain. She hated this woman; she hated all these this people here who thought that the ownership over other human beings was ok. How would they like it if the roles were reversed?
Kakuzu must've picked up on her negative feelings because he let go on her hand and set his on top of her head again, threading his fingers through her grassy hair. He wasn't happy either with the situation by his chakra signature. It successful calmed her lest she break character and chew this old bitch a new one. Thankfully, the woman and her companion were let into the mansion, so Kakuzu and Zetsu were next.
Stepping up, Kakuzu extended the invitation to one of the two suited, security guards standing outside the exquisite, ironwork double doors. The bald man closely inspected the invite, flipping it over and over in his palm. He glanced over Kakuzu then to Zetsu, narrowing his icy gaze upon her and making her a little nervous. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he made a tear in the middle of the cardstock and passed it back to Kakuzu before opening the doors to let them through. Kakuzu thanked them and grasped Zetsu's hand again to enter.
They stepped inside and into a grand ballroom that must've been larger than the Akatsuki manor itself, decked in dark hardwood flooring that mimicked the look of brick while massive, gold-trimmed arched windows yawned from floor to the high, cathedral ceiling that you had to bend over backwards to in order to look upon. Overhead hung an exquisite chandelier of glistening gold and crystal droplets that must've been as expensive as the mansion itself if not more. The ballroom floor was furnished with round tables blanketed in black table clothes and candle lighting. There were already maybe a few dozen guests meshing at the tables or on the floor with wine glasses and Hors D'oeuvre in hand while immaculately dressed butlers in black suits weaved between with silver platters balanced on their fingertips. It was like a scene out of one of her fantasy books she read when she was little and despite the circumstances, Zetsu was awestruck.
A manservant walked up to Kakuzu and bowed politely. "Good afternoon, my lord. Would you like for me to take your jacket and hat?" Kakuzu obliged, shrugging off his blazer and fedora but kept on his sunglasses and bandana. The man accepted both up before looking at Zetsu. "I apologize, my lord, but pets are not permitted in the ballroom," He motioned with a gloved hand, and another steward walked up behind them.
"Where are you taking her?" Kakuzu immediately interrogated them. He had anticipated them being separated but that did not mean he liked it, especially not in a place like this.
"She'll just be taken to the kitchen with the others."
While dubious, Kakuzu looked to Zetsu before begrudgingly letting go her hand. Once he did, the other butler laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and led her off the ballroom towards the aforementioned kitchen. Zetsu looked behind her shoulder at Kakuzu who cast her one last glance before disappearing into the party with everyone else.
After going through the twists and turns of a hallway, they arrived at the kitchen and like everything else, it was huge; brick walls outfitted with copper pans of every shape and size and a large island in the middle which was buried in plates of salads and other finger foods waiting to be served. Multiple stoves and ovens were burning at once, making the space humid. There were also a number of people scurrying to and fro with bubbling pots and plates. Zetsu reckoned these were the other "pets" and confirmed upon spying the unhappy slave man that came with the old woman, dicing onions with two others.
"Madam Liza, another to help with preparations," The manservant broadcasted but didn't wait for acknowledgement as he turned and left to return to his duties on the floor, leaving Zetsu standing there like a lost child in a supermarket.
She didn't know who Liza was nor what to do. Did she just join in? Even then, where and with who? It looked to her as if everyone was busy and didn't need help. Maybe she should just—?
"Hello!"
Zetsu flinched. She had been so occupied with her observation that she failed to notice anyone walking up to her. It was a young lady, maybe early to mid-teens with strawberry blonde, curly hair and blue and pink sun dress and a smile that shined brighter than her hair. She looked very out-of-place amongst everyone else—happier, too.
"Oh, I'm sorry for scaring you," She said, placing a hand over her chest. "My name is Liza. What's yours?"
Zetsu didn't immediately answer. She could give the girl her real name since it had no meaning to her nor anyone here since she had no notoriety tied to her true identity. However, precaution and frankly paranoia led her to vetoing the decision as her brain scrambled to think of a fake name, leaving her standing there and staring at the girl for awhile.
"G-Girl…" She finally uttered out.
Liza frowned; face tilted in an expression of interest with eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Girl?" Zetsu nodded, trying not to look too nervous. "Is that your name or what your master calls you?" Zetsu didn't have a chance to bullshit another answer for that one when their 'conversation' was interrupted by a teenager boy carrying a large stock pot. He stopped behind Liza, eyeballing Zetsu over her shoulder.
"Liza. Don't waste your time with her. She's one of those," Zetsu frowned. Those? She didn't understand what that meant but Liza must have as she looked her over closely before gasping out an 'oh!' as if just noticing something she did not before. "If you must have you do something, just put her on potatoes but don't let her use a knife!"
"Yes, Silas," Silas walked away, and Liza looked back to Zetsu. "Sorry, that was my big brother! Here, you can help me with potatoes!" Zetsu wasn't given a choice in the manner as Liza grabbed her hand and hoisted her to one of the stations with impressive strength.
Already there was a little boy washing potatoes, stood upon a stepstool in order to reach the barnhouse-style sink.
"Axel, this is Girl. She's going to help us with potatoes. Why don't you peel them so she can wash them instead?"
"Ok," Axel said, cleaning one last potato before jumping down, drying his hands off on his oversized, denim overalls. As he did, he looked at Zetsu with childish curiosity and then pointed. "What's that?" She didn't know what he was citing—again—but Liza obviously did as she cut in.
"Axel! It's rude to point," She swatted his offensive hand before leaning in to whisper to him. "She's tranquil,"
"Oh! Is that why she has that black thing in her neck?" Oh, now Zetsu understood. They were speaking about her piercing and must think that due to it, she was 'tranquil' which she could only juxtapose to being a lobotomite. It saddened her to think that may be a commonplace practice in the slave trade, likely to prevent rebellion.
"Yes. Now, start peeling," Liza nudged the boy further down the station before turning back to Zetsu. "Sorry about my little brother. He's just curious," Zetsu didn't answer, deciding to embrace her oblivious persona and thankfully, Liza didn't pry further.
Instead, she just briefly explained to her how to wash potatoes thoroughly before going to the end of the line to start dicing them. As Zetsu scrubbed potato after potato, she questioned how Kakuzu was doing on his side and hoped he was having as easy time as cleaning vegetables.
…
"Man, where's Sasori? We've been waiting here for like, forever, man. He didn't get like lost, did he?"
"No idea," Kisame glanced around, trying to hawk out the puppeteer's bulky frame through the brush but saw nothing of the like. They were in the correct rendezvous location so what was the deal? "For a cat that doesn't like waitin', he sure does like makin' people wait, don't he?"
"Maybe we should like, just leave? We can do the mission ourselves," Jūzō suggested, shrugging Kubikiribōchō back into place.
"Either of you bogans think of leaven and I'll fuck you with your own thigh bones,"
Instantly, Kisame and Jūzō looked towards the source of the colourful threats, expecting to see the ugly mug of Sasori. Instead, it was a red-haired man, dressed as if he was going to an interview in black slacks and white button-up underneath an emerald green sweater vest. The partnership was obviously and understandably puzzled by this stranger's presence but leery as both swordsmen grabbed the hilts of their weapons.
"Umm…do we know you?" Kisame asked the gentleman, eyeing him up and down but hadn't the slightest idea who he was. Yet, by his "greeting", he must know them. Who spoke to the Akatsuki like that otherwise?
"Nope, but I know you, mermaid,"
Kisame ignored the racist slur, if barely only because he wasn't one that was easy to anger. Didn't mean he didn't get angry; he just wasn't angry—yet. "Ok…are you with Mr. Sasori?"
"You could say that,"
"Wait, so where's Sasori then, man?" Jūzō asked.
The man sighed and rolled his cinnamon orbs over as if them asking questions was so inconveniencing to him. "He ain't comen 'cause he didn't want to deal with you two meatpies,"
"And who are you, bro?"
"I'm not your bro, you dingledork. Just call me Sasori. It'll be easier for your little peabrains to reckon," Sasori but not Sasori (but is Sasori) said.
Kisame and Jūzō looked at each other but said nothing as their displeasure with the situation was communicated loud and clear through that glance alone. Neither would've thought they would be in a scenario where they would've favoured Sasori—the real Sasori—but here they were.
"Ok, what's the plan, bushy?" Sasori glared at Kisame for his use of the offense term towards Sunans. Kisame just glared back, daring the little man to give an excuse to soil Samehada's clean bandages with his blood. Sadly, his offer was rejected.
"The plan is this: you two bogans are slaves and I own you," Sasori emphasized this by pointing at them and then himself as if they were dumb to understand otherwise. "We're here in woop woop 'cause I'm enteren your arses into that little thunderdome they got goen on for yous to fight. Once this 'Overseer' blighter shows himself, we off him and get the fuck out. Questions?"
Jūzō immediately raised his hand which got an exaggerated sigh from Sasori. "Yeah, so like, if Kisame and I are fightin', what are you doin', man?"
"Me? I'll be doen what any slaver does: collecten the pay-out while you two fight. That is, if you don't lose—or die,"
"So, we're gonna doin' all the hard work while you just like, sit on your ass, man?"
"I'm not goen to be just sitten on my ass but if you two donuts can think of a better plan then please, be my guest,"
"Yeah, I got one," Kisame purposed, folding his muscular arms over his chest while staring down the redhead. "We can be the slavers and enter you to fight, ya dig?"
"Me? Do I look like someone that can fight?" Sasori extended his arms out and to his credit, no, he did not look like he could fight. Hell, he looked like the type to pussyfoot his way out of fights by bribing the other party with daddy's money. That's the impression Kisame got off him anyway. "You want to kill this Overseer git or not?"
Kisame and Jūzō exchanged one last look but neither hadn't any idea how to finish this mission otherwise, so they just forfeited with a shrug and frustrated sigh—mainly on Kisame's half. "Yeah, sure."
"Brilliant! Now, hand over your swords,"
"What?"
"Why!?" Jūzō immediately grabbed the hilt of Kubikiribōchō. Not his Kurouchi!
Sasori rolled his eyes so hard he gave himself vertigo. "You seriously don't think you can walk your happy arses in with them, do you? You'll get recognized in a second as Swordsmen of the Mist, even by all of them mouth breathers," He had a point, the swordsmen begrudgingly professed. No one would ever believe they were slaves while carrying such weaponry and since both were in the Bingo Book, being recognized would send the village of mercenaries into a tizzy.
"What're you going to with them, hmm?" Kisame inquired.
"I'm just goen to stash 'em," To demonstrate, Sasori extracted one of the large scrolls buckled to his back and opened it on the ground.
"How do we know ya ain't gonna run off an' like, sell them?" Jūzō asked, still dubious.
"Oh, now that you mentioned it!" Sasori exclaimed optimistically with the largest, shittiest grin as if he was seriously thinking of it before his face fell back into its default, deadpan expression. "I'm not goen to sell them, you muppet. Now just shut up and hand them over. We ain't got all day!"
Seeing how they were just going to keep going in circles with the bickering, Kisame obligatorily offered up Samehada. However, due to the fact she would have herself a cow and the whole farm by being handled by anyone but him—and by extension Jūzō—he took it upon himself to personally lay her onto the scroll. Once he did, Sasori flashed a hand sign and the sharkskin sword disappeared inside with a puff of white smoke. Sasori then stared at Jūzō and made a come-hither motion for him to hand over Kubikiribōchō next. Unlike his partner, though, he wasn't as easily influenced into divorcing with his sword.
After lots of peptalking from Kisame and death glares from Sasori in the background, Jūzō finally surrendered the treasured weapon. With a kiss goodbye, he placed it on the cloth where it too went poof to join its sister. Pleased, Sasori rolled the scroll up and stashed it with the others on his back.
"Let's go. But first, if you two are goen to be slaves, you're goen to have to look it—so uglier,"
…
Yamigakure, the capital of the micronation of the Dusklands, was gangland with every sin one could dream of indulging in with brothels, bars, and casinos jampacking the claustrophobic, dirt streets—and that went without mentioning the people which called these ghettos home, just the worst of the worst and ugly too.
Even the shy of seven-foot ningyo that was Hoshigaki Kisame was finding himself a little uncomfortable being amidst such a community of criminals. Not helped by the suspicious stares towards them as the three newcomers shuffled down the main boulevard towards the Colosseum, the main attraction of the country.
Maybe it was because none of them had seen a ningyo outside the Wetlands which was understandable or maybe due to Sasori's "idea" of making them look the part of slaves was just chaining them up and slapping a muzzle on them like a pair of rabid animals. To the littlest credit ever, no one had yet to identify them, and a majority of onlookers just went on with their miserable lives of felonies and other debauchery.
"Yo, I think we're in like, the clear, dude," Jūzō whispered to Kisame. All of sudden, the chain bolted to the spike collar around his neck was yanked, causing his head to snap back.
"Oi, hush up!" Sasori barked at him and chuckled with a grin. Jūzō just glared back at him while massaging his neck. Kisame, meanwhile, himself a mental note that after all this was over, he was going to send this "Sasori" wannabe back to wherever he came from via a fist to the face.
The Colosseum itself was an elliptical amphitheatre in the centre of Yamigakure, built from brick with an ironwork skeleton and used as a stadium for all types of man and monster to fight to the death. It was splashed with random colours of paint and decorated with weathered banners displaying a black skull, the symbol of the Black Mark. There was a long line of excited patrons waiting to buy a ticket for the next tournament and the three men joined in back.
However, halfway down the line there was a commotion with a lot of yelling and cursing before people started marching away, angrily. The cause being the one and only ticket booth had been shut down with a message of 'Sorry, We're Closed' written on the metal blind in red spray paint—or blood. Either or. Sasori didn't let this thwart him, though, as he hammered his fist on the shutter.
"We're closed, dumbass!" A voice barked from inside the kiosk.
"We ain't here for tickets, we're here to fight, you twat!" Sasori shouted back.
"We're not takin' anymore meat either, fuckface!"
Hearing this, Kisame and Jūzō were getting understandably worried. If they couldn't enter, they couldn't get to the Overseer and this mission would be a failure. Were they too late and would have to wait for the next tournament? How long would be that? Their fears, as it turned out, were misplaced as Sasori was nothing if not stubborn.
"Not even for a couple o' ningyo?"
This question successfully earned the curiosity of the mousy ticketmaster as he pushed up the blind to investigate, looking genuinely startled to see the other man hadn't been blowing smoke up his ass. After staring at Kisame and Jūzō for a long moment, he uttered a polite "one moment" before shutting the curtain again. Sasori turned to the other men with a smug smirk and lifted his hands up in a nonchalant shrug.
Exactly a minute later, the clerk was back as he opened the shudder one last time and leant over the counter. "Go 'round back and talk to Jax. He'll let you in," He handed Sasori a red ticket and pointed them in the correct direction before disappearing back into the safety of shack before anyone else saw him and threatened his life to get free entry inside—again. Sasori didn't even bother saying thank you either as he just went to see this Jax, dragging Kisame and Jūzō along by their leashes.
Jax was the man tweaking hard by the back entrance of the arena and the only thing distinguishing him from the other junkies loitering around was his bright yellow, safety vest with "Staff" written on the back in marker. Upon seeing the strangers walking towards him, the tanned man thrusted out of his chair, looking prepared to fight the trespassers lest he lose his job and thus easy drug money. Sasori just flashed the ticket he had been given and immediately, the crackhead calmed down—in a metaphoric sense. He pushed open the plate metal door with a spine-chilling screech and politely held it while the three made entry.
Inside, it was dark, illuminated only by the dim, orange glow of lightbulbs flickering overhead, and smelt heavily like copper. So much so, Kisame even the muzzle did little to shield his sensitive nose from the metallic scent. It wasn't until they navigated down a stairwell and through a claustrophobic hallway into an open room with improved lighting that became obvious why, and it wasn't due to the ugly marriage between steel and wood.
Everything was painted red with blood, new and old. It was on the walls, it was on the floor and yes, it was even oozing from the ceiling. Once realizing this, Kisame swallowed thickly as his salvia glands kicked into overdrive and filled his mouth with drool. A ningyo's sense of smell was a thousand times more acute than the likes of a human so the fetid bouquet of all this blood was making him nauseous. A man walked into the room from the other end—and to say he did not look friendly would be an understatement.
His bald head was decorated with many, many grotesque scars, one of which extended down through his left eye where the socket housed a gold ball; half of his face was missing, bronze skin bleaching into white bone and pink muscle which left him with a permanent half-grin of gold and silver teeth that glinted in the light. He looked them over, mainly Kisame and Jūzō for a long moment, pierced eyebrows knitted together into a serious look. Again, Kisame and Jūzō got nervous. He didn't recognize them, did he?
Then, the man smiled—smiled more, that is, and extended his arms out in a welcoming gesture, the gold-painted chains he accessorized with ratting. "Ahh, you must be da new meat! Welcome, welcome! I am Schism an' I am da dignitary here,"
"Schism, aye? On account of your fucked up face?" Schism frowned while Kisame and Jūzō bristled, staring at Sasori in mortification. Was it seriously so hard to be nice for one second? And to the man named "Schism"? A man looked like he ate nails for breakfast with no milk? Yes, obviously it was.
They expected the unfortunately faced man to go off on Sasori, maybe hit him and he would be justified for it. Hell, Kisame and Jūzō certainly wouldn't get in the middle of it. Schism stared at the redhead for a long while with his last eye, the room suffocated with a silent tension until finally, he smiled again and let out a hearty, belly laugh, giving the two swordsmen a near heart attack.
Schism pointed at himself, namely, the disfigured half of his face. "Dis face, my friend, dis is the face of a winna! You are lookin' at da only person to not only survive the Colosseum but win it! Fo' it, da Overseer wipe away my debts an' put me in charge. A butcha, I call myself because I am da one sendin' da meat to da grinder," He looked back at Kisame and Jūzō again, sizing them up with his gaze. "Like these two. I can't say I've had ningyo meat befo'. Where'd you get dem?"
"It was a buy one, get one free sale," Sasori replied, and the two men laughed.
"I am interested in seein' dem fight—and die. Come, let me show you 'round da Splatterhouse," Schism ushered them along and the other men tailed him through the musky and blood-splattered halls of the justly titled "Splatterhouse".
First, he took them to a "training room" which was just a few dumbbells and exercise equipment jerry-rigged from rusted metal bars. Next was the armory where an ordnance of weaponry was on display. Everything from knifes, swords, axes, and hammers, all more exaggerated and larger than the last as if from a fantasy roleplaying game. All was kept in recycled, beer barrels or hung up on oxidized hooks from the walls and grated ceiling, the metal armaments chiming together noisily due to the airflow leaking through from above. It gave context to the weaponry used by the Black Mark when they tried assassinating Kisame and Jūzō.
"An' here, here is my favourite part o' da tour. Da Hole," The "Hole" was just a small room with an iron tank depressed six feet into the ground like a grave and pooled halfway with black blood which had gathered in it over the years. "Da lucky meat is slaughtered in da arena. Da unlucky meat is left to bleed out here. Maybe it takes just minutes but sometimes, it takes days," Schism explained this was such childish glee as if he were talking about a new puppy he got for holiday, not the slow, agonizing death of human beings, people with lives and families. And yet, he called them meat. Kisame was doing his damndest to temper his anger while Jūzō just looked away. They may like a little bloodshed and death as came with being a Swordsmen of the Mist, but this…this was too much, even for them.
"So, what do you think? I can say you ain't goin' to get dem back, not in one piece, dat is. Not 'less day win da Colosseum an' like I said, I am da only one to ever do that," A subtle flex but ok.
Sasori gave a hard look at Kisame and Jūzō as if seriously thinking of it for a second before shrugging with an egotistical smirk. "Reckon I'll make more money betten on these pillocks than sellen them off,"
Schism crowed at that, a little too loudly as the laughter was amplified off the metal walls with a sharpness. He then slapped Sasori hard on the shoulder—his bad shoulder too as the puppeteer grimaced. "Good, good! Go talk to da cashier so you get yo money. That is, if neither of these meatbags die on da first round," He laughed again and Kisame had his fists clinched so tight the blue knuckles were white.
Jūzō must've sensed his partner's incense as he bumped him with his elbow. Not to tell him to calm down as much as to let him know he wasn't alone. It successfully dispelled the ningyo's anger as Kisame let out a heavy breath, shoulders falling heavily with the exhale.
Once Sasori had walked off, Schism turned to Kisame and Jūzō with his ugly, half-smile. "Welcome to wut lil' lives you have left, meat."
…
"And finished. What do you think?" Konan passed Gine a kunai which had been over-polished into a mirrored finish to look herself over in.
As the Chinoike did, she was overwhelmed by the person staring back at her. "It's…" She uttered, caressing her face while cautious not to smudge the white make-up Konan had just laboured the last half-an-hour layering on her skin. "It's so long since I last wore make-up,"
"So, you like it then?"
Gine handed the knife back with a deadpan but gratified expression. "I do, yes. It'll do well to hide my face while we're in Yugakure,"
"Yes, yes. Now she looks like a proper floozie," Orochimaru chimed in with a smirk. Gine glared at the Sannin while Konan just sighed. They hadn't even started their mission yet and Orochimaru was being antagonistic.
Konan was both glad and unhappy to have enlisted herself on this mission: glad because she was a buffer between the two other women, otherwise their objective of eliminating the Mistress would never be accomplished—and unhappy because she was in the middle of two women hellbent on killing each other due schoolgirl levels of bullying.
"What is our plan?" Konan asked, trying to direct back to their mission—and she didn't want to be caught in the crossfire if Gine and Orochimaru started exchanging words—or jutsu. Thankfully, her attempts were successful.
"Our plan is this: I am an okiya mother and you two are my girls. A fire burned down our lodging house. A very unfortunate fire—everyone dead. So, we are searching for a new home and employment—and whereto but the grandest teahouse in all the lands? Once we're in, we twiddle our thumbs until this 'Mistress' trollop shows her face and then off with her head!"
Konan nodded. "It's solid," She looked to Gine for her opinion.
"So, you want us to play whores?" Gine interrogated Orochimaru, violet eyes narrowed into a death glare.
Orochimaru gifted her a sugary smile. "Oh darling, with you it wouldn't be pretending," Gine was up in an instant, eyes bleeding into her Ketsuryūgan but Orochimaru did not back down, harbouring no fear in the face of the Kekkei Genkai as she stared directly into it, tempting her to use it and see what happened.
Konan was up too, standing between the two women with arms outstretched. "Stop it, both of you!" She glared at Orochimaru over shoulder and even at Gine, staring into her Blood Dragon Eye without flinching. "We'll never see to it this mission is successful with you two being so childish! Now, would you kindly put aside your differences until after we've assassinated the Mistress? Please?"
There was a tense silence as neither Gine nor Orochimaru backed off, still staring the other down and Konan was prepared to intervene with force if needbe. Mercifully, she did not have too as they yielded as Gine switched off her bloodline while Orochimaru withdrew her tobacco pipe for an overdue smoke.
"Fine, but I'm not sleeping with any clients!" Gine established with an adamance.
"Oh darling, you don't have too. You can just use that Kekkei Genkei of yours to make them think you've laid with them," Orochimaru suggested, and she wasn't wrong given the illusionary abilities of the Blood Eye. "Don't fret, none of us shall be sullied during our stay. Now, if we're done with discussions, I'd like to carry onto to Yugakure before it gets dark. Shall we?"
Nothing else had to be said so the three women exited the outskirts into the tourist capital of the world.
…
Yugakure was as old as it was new. While its namesake hot springs littered the village, all affiliations to its military ties had been erased; academies substituted with casinos and ex-shinobi with their headbands missing the metal plating and their vestiments interchanged with retail uniforms.
A lot of curious gazes were drawn to the three beautiful geishas walking the misty boulevard. A few men even wolfwhistled and catcalled them as they passed. Orochimaru bathed in the praise while Gine delivered the sexual deviants venomous glares that sent them fleeing back to their nine-to-five. Konan was just blasé to it all as she was used to being subject to the male gaze, even in Amegakure.
On the other side of the village was its famous tea and bathhouse; a very grandiose and opulent structure on par with a five-star hotel rather than a bordello; built in a traditional bathhouse style, it was five stories established over a massive hot spring with a bridge crossing. Despite the bridge itself being wide and of sound engineering, it was precarious migrating over it due to the limited visibility from the steam billowing up from the hot water below.
Once at the entrance, Orochimaru faced Konan and Gine. "Now, let me do the talking, ok?" Neither women had any objections so with that, the doorway curtain was pulled back and they stepped inside, a bell chiming pleasantly as they did.
The ground floor was no less flamboyant than the bathhouse itself with red and gold crown-molding and images of phenoxies and dragons chiseled directly into the wood. There was a grand framed picture of a gorgeous woman in geisha paint with a golden placard underneath reading: "Our Mistress". The Akatsuki members memorized it well.
A girl exited a hallway, wiping her hands with a rag. "I apologize for the wait. Oh—" She looked surprised to see the three women as opposed to the male—and rare female—clientele. "Hello, may I help you?"
"Oh, you absolutely can, darling," Orochimaru drawled. "My name is Yano Mana, and I am—was—the okiya mother of the teahouse of Yukumo in the Highlands. I don't know if you've heard but—a fire broke out and burned it to the ground,"
"Oh yes, I just learned of the fire in the paper. So unfortunate," The girl confirmed which was news to Konan and Gine. Wait, so there was a fire? And why did Konan suspect that wasn't just a coincidence?
"Oh yes, my girls, my poor, poor girls," Orochimaru slumped over with a hand over her face and let out a fake sob in a praiseworthy performance. All while the poor bathhouse girl looked on in genuine empathy. "These two girls were the only ones I could get out besides myself. Now, we have no home and no income, so we've come here. Might the Mistress find it in her heart to let us stay,"
"Of course! The Mistress welcomes all and turns away no one. Please, permit me a minute to get the mother?" Orochimaru nodded and the servant girl skittered away from whence she came to find the okiya mother of this establishment. Once she was gone, Orochimaru neatened up and smirked.
"So, the fire?" Konan inquired in the meantime.
"An alibi," Orochimaru whispered out at the side of her mouth, essentially confirming her involvement but that was none a surprise.
A few minutes later, the girl was back with an old lady, built like a twig with a sour facial expression that creased her white foundation and eyes weighed down into a permanent glare by her exaggerated lashes and ten layers of purple eye shadow. She securitized each of the other woman and upon looking over Orochimaru, she smiled, exhibiting yellowed teeth gnarled by tobacco from a lifelong smoking habit.
"Mana! So happy to see you again and that you survived. I'm so sorry to hear about the fire," The Mother said, clinching a skeletal hand over her chest that was embellished with golden rings and huge gemstones. She then glanced over Konan and Gine again with a look of either indifference or disgust. It was impossible to tell through her heavy make-up and failed botox. "And these girls, who are they?"
"Oh, let me introduce you. This here is Rin. She has a very…bewitching gaze that patrons just love," Orochimaru laid a hand on Gine's shoulder and like clockwork, the white-haired female glowered at the other women which went unnoticed as the elder switched to Konan. "And this is Chihiro. Unfortunately, a client of ours left her with a wee bit of an infection so she can no longer give her services. But! She's a brilliant seamstress. See these kimonos? Sewed them herself!" Konan had not sewn these kimonos but what was a little fib to sell a greater lie?
"Hmm, a seamstress, you say? Yes, we could use one in house. It'd save us money since these useless girls are so clumsy!" The Mother snapped and the bathhouse girl next to her flinched, cowering with head hung low and eyes downcast. "Hmph, yes. I have no reason to turn you away and it'd nice to have an extra hand around here that knows what they're doing!" As she barked this, the girl flinched again and was beginning to tremble. Konan's bleeding heart ached for her, as she could only imagine the type of abuse that she—all the girls—went through on a daily basis with the tyrannical okiya.
"Thank you so much! You have our infinite gratitude,"
"Luna!" The girl, Luna, straightened up, brown eyes glassy. "Show them around, would you? And don't disturb our patrons! Her Mistress is watching."
"Y-Yes, Mother,"
Meanwhile, the Mother ushered at Orochimaru and the two women left, leaving Gine and Konan with Luna who led them down an opposite hallway.
Their first stop was the "bathhouse" itself which was in fact outside where they had repurposed the natural hot springs into the bathes where bathwomen would wash clients. There were also "cold" bathes inside. The second floor was the teahouse with a long, circular hallway of tatami-matted tea rooms for customers divided by rice paper wooden doors. She did not take them to the fourth floor, basically explaining it to be the "massage parlour" which didn't take a genius to figure out. Finally, the fourth floor was the lounge house for all the woman which included a shower room and dining room.
"This will be your room," Luna said, opening the paper door to a small, empty room with tatami mats and a futon—only one though. "Do you have any questions?"
"I do. The Mother said the Mistress is watching. Is she here?" Konan asked, trying to structure it as genuine curiosity than an interrogation.
"I do not know. I have never seen her myself, but she knows everything that goes on here so you have to be on your best behaviour at all times," Luna glanced around nervously, as if afraid just speaking of the Mistress would get her in trouble. "Do you have any other questions?"
Konan looked at Gine who just shook her head to indicate she did not.
"Make yourself at home, then. Myself or another one of the other girls will fetch you for supper at seven." With that, Luna left to go back to her duties, leaving Konan and Gine with little to do but wait for Orochimaru in order to discuss their next steps.
…
That evening, there was a polite knock on the wooden frame of the door.
"Come in," Konan granted once she and Gine got themselves proper in case it was a geisha to lead them to dinner or the Mother. The paper door slid open, showing it to be Orochimaru instead.
After checking none were looking, the Sannin slinked inside and shut the door behind her so they could have what little privacy existed here. "So, looks as if we're in, innit?"
"Yes. Did you learn anything?" Konan asked her in a hushed whisper as the elder joined them on the straw floor.
Orochimaru shook her head, tucking a few stray strands of black hair that slipped from her up-bun. "No. Mother Bird is very hush-hush. I tried questioning her on the Mistress but she refused to say much outside that the Mistress sees all that is going on in the bathhouse and to be on my best behaviour,"
Konan sighed. "As were we told too,"
"However, I reckon if she is here, she's up in that fancy-dancy office on the top floor. When I inquired about it, all I was told was it belonged to the Mistress. Now, whether or not she is there is unknown since Mother Bird also mentioned this Mistress likes to take a lot of holidays for long periods of time—months even,"
"So, you're saying we could be stuck here for months?" Gine interrupted.
Orochimaru gave her a dirty look. "I said no such thing. Do not put words in my mouth," She cleared her throat. Last thing they needed was to bicker in the middle of enemy territory and be overheard. "What I'm saying is: we do not know if she is here or if she is gone,"
"If she is gone then we have little choice but to wait," Konan interjected. "We cannot leave now,"
"We could always burn this place down and pray for the best, hmm?" Orochimaru suggested with a lighthearted shrug despite the implication of the death of innocent women before chuckling. "I jest but yes, if we must wait then wait, we must. In the meantime, we'll play good little geisha, so this Mistress is none the wiser,"
"And we'll gather more information on her," Konan stole a glimpse at Gine who just acknowledged she was listening despite contributing nothing to the discussion.
"Unfortunately, this will be the first and last time we rendezvous in person as Mother Bird is putting me on a busy schedule as a sister okiya," Orochimaru explained with an exasperated sigh.
Konan frowned; the expression much less pronounced without her labret piercing. "How are we meant to communicate then if we cannot meet?"
"Fret not, I have a solution to that very problem," As Orochimaru said this, she unclipped one of her golden, snake hoop earrings and set it in the palm of her hand before extending it out for the other two women to see.
All of a sudden, the jewelry twitched to life, divulging itself not to be just a snake-shaped earring but a snake. The tiny, golden snake coiled itself, flicking its tongue as it stared at Konan with its beady, black eyes. Orochimaru lifted the snake to her mouth, whispering a quiet message to it which is nodded in understandment. Once lowered to the floor, it slithered from her hand over to Konan. After a second of staring at her, the origamitress understood and cupped her hands for it to climb into it. Orochimaru gestured for her to raise it to her ear which she did so.
"My snakes can deliver messages between us," The tiny snake said into her ear with its tinier voice.
Orochimaru smiled and pointed at her ear where another faux golden snake earring hung. "This way, if either of us have information, we can pass it to and fro in secret with Yuvon and Yuld. They're also brilliant listening devices. That little darling is Yuld,"
"It's perfect," Konan didn't have pierced ears which to disguise the little gold snake like Orochimaru and neither did Gine, so she put Yuld in her hair where it mimicked a glittering clip instead.
There was another knock, cutting off further discussion. Orochimaru got up and answered it to see one of the geisha standing on the other side as Luna had informed them.
The geisha politely bowed in the presence of the okiya. "Oh, Mother Mana. My apologies. I came to get Rin and Chihiro for dinner," She said, taking everyone aback when it was not the gentle voice of a woman but deeper—much, much deeper like that of a man.
"Oh, it's ok, darling. I just came to check on my girls. I'll get out of your way." Orochimaru wiggled her fingers at the other Akatsuki women to wave goodbye before taking her leave with the male geisha bowing to her in respect once more at her passing. Once she was gone, Konan and Gine left with him to the dining hall.
"I apologize for interrupting your conversation. I heard of the fire. You have my sympathies," The male geisha said as they walked down the hallway in a single-file line.
"Thank you," Konan said. "I'm sorry for asking this but—"
"Why is there a man working as a geisha here?" He correctly predicted her commonly asked question and his red lips twitched upwards into a kind smile with his eyes in half-moons. "I was borne here. My mother was geisha and became impregnated by a patron. Unfortunately, she passed in childbirth and my father wanted nothing to do with me due to being a 'happily' married man so I was raised here by the geisha and became a geisha myself. Oh, where are my manners? I'm Sora."
Konan nodded. "Sora. This is so interesting. So, you've been here your whole life?"
"That I have. This is all I've known, and I wouldn't have it any other way, despite what people may expect. I was raised with so much love from the women here and Mother Yua was the nearest thing to a real mother to me," Mother Yua was presumed to be the Mother they had met earlier and just from first impressions alone, it was doubtful to imagine her as affectionate per her namesake.
"Including the Mistress?"
Sora did not immediately reply as he frowned. "…no. I have never met her personally."
"So, she it not around much?" Konan needled further while feigning innocence.
"I do not know," He then said, a little snappish in delivery and the blue-haired woman knew she had pushed him too far. However, his smile returned as if nothing happened. "Oh, here we are," Konan and Gine looked up to see a doorway blanketed with a curtain which read "kitchen" as delicious aromas of fresh food drifting out from within as well voices and the sound of clacking of dishes.
"Thank you for accompanying us, Sora." Konan said with a bow. Seeing this, Gine mimicked her.
"Of course. Oh, and may I part with you a piece of advice? Try not to ask about the Mistress. Otherwise, people may suspect you of being a spy," He giggled into a sleeve while the women exchanged glances, a little blindsided by implication and the lighthearted delivery of it feeling oddly threatening. "Enjoy your dinner." With that, he left and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.
…
AN: And done. I had fun writing that. Especially the interactions between all the characters-Kisame and Juzo being my favourite because Sasori is the worst, at least my OOC version of Sasori, haha.
Next Chapter: The Father, the Mistress, and the Overseer: Part 2
Until Next Time.