AN: This is part two of three parts in the mini-arc. I'm going to be beginning each part with a different partnership to mix it the order. Also, this chapter is going to be a little angsty—ok, a lotta angsty, in my opinion. And yes, I did base the bathhouse and fake names off Spirited Away. Why? I'm lazy and because it's a great movie.
Also, please listen to the warnings. This chapter is going to be brutal, especially at the end. The next one isn't going to be much better, either.
Cat Beats: Eek! I'm so sorry not getting to your last review. Freakin' disabled email notifications and I didn't know. I just thought no one was reading anymore, haha. Anyhoo! I'm quite enjoying adding my own flavour of these characters. Yes, they're hella out of character from their canon counterparts but it makes for more interesting reading, in my opinion. I've never watched Ocean's 11 so I'll trust you on that!
p.s. no beta, too lazy to edit. Please excuse any jank.
Warning(s): Death, Violence (High), Mentions of Slavery (High), Genderbend (Mid), Language (Mid), Out of Character
…
Wasteland
The Akatsuki Arc
Chapter 65
Life in a bathhouse was quieter than Konan expected but busy. She kept herself occupied herself on the first day as the house's one and only seamstress. Sewing was relaxing for her, so it wasn't too bad despite the workload and strict deadlines set by the Mother. Sora had generously bought sewing supplies for her, including expensive threads, ignoring Konan's objections. She was just thankful she didn't have to deal with the male clientele like poor Gine, thanks to Orochimaru's little white lie.
Unfortunately, after a long day, she had failed to gather any information on the Mistress. She couldn't inquire from the other bathgirls as they would freeze up at the slightest mention of the woman. It was as if she were more akin to the bathhouse's boogeyman than its owner.
At the end of the night, Konan and Gine met for dinner before going to the baths to wash off and commiserate.
"You look exhausted," Konan said to Gine to break the ice. The running water did well to muffle their conversation from eavesdroppers, unlike the paper-thin walls of their room.
"I am. It takes a lot of chakra to use the Ketsuryūgan, even for a few seconds at a time," Gine splashed herself in the face with hot water to wash off layers upon layers of white and red makeup. Her skin underneath looked as pale. "Did you learn anything?"
Konan sighed. "No. I tried to ask one of the girls about the Mistress but none like speaking of her." She dumped a bucket of water over her head. She had forgotten about Yuld and the little, golden snake was washed out of her hair. But, before it was flushed down the drain, she caught it, apologizing profusely. So, that didn't happen again, she safely wrapped it around her finger like a ring instead.
"I didn't either. I dug around in perverted bastards' brains while they were under my Blood Eye in case any of them knew the identity of the Mistress. But, nothing. The closest thing was just that damned photo we saw coming in,"
"She's done well keeping herself hidden then. Who knows if she's here or not?"
"I don't know but I learned of a disturbing rumour while I was at it,"
"Rumour?" Gine was about to speak when the bathroom door slid open. Five women entered, chattering loudly with each other. Fortunately, they positioned themselves on the other side of the bathroom, so they weren't likely to overhear Konan and Gine.
Konan felt grief when she saw the youngest geisha amongst them, a teenager. Most of the geisha here were teenagers too, causing her to grieve for their innocence. She remembered being the girls' age and living on the cold, damp streets of Amegakure with Yahiko and Nagato. They were so hungry that every day she had considered selling herself if it meant getting them a scrap of food to survive to the next day. No girl should have to make such a decision. She questioned if these girls were here due to a similar dilemma or because they had no choice. Afterall, the Mistress was one of the heads of the largest slave trade in the world.
"Yes. Apparently, a lot of geishas go missing from here. People think because of this the Mistress is harvesting their blood to bath in for eternal youth," Gine said in a hushed whisper, just in case. "Either that or this place is haunted,"
"Or because she's selling them off," Konan said. She shook her head at the outrageous nature of such a rumour and lathered her chest and neck with soap. "It would explain why everyone is so fearful of her though,"
"Maybe she isn't human but the God of Death himself in disguise,"
Konan quirked a curious eyebrow. "God of Death?"
Gine nodded and decided to explain when it was obvious Konan had no idea who she was talking about. "Yes. Yugakure is a very religious nation, and everyone here fears Him. Just uttering his name is thought to damn you. My clan, the Chinoike, were banished to the Valley of Hell when we immigrated to the Steamlands. The people here thought the Ketsuryūgan was a curse from the Death God. They also believed we were drinking blood because the water ran red in the valley from iron deposits. After awhile, even the Chinoike believed we were cursed by Him too," She looked down. Her violet eyes blank as she listlessly rubbed a wet clothe up and down her arm until the skin turned an angry red. "Maybe we weren't wrong either…"
Konan saw this and laid a gentle hand over the other woman's, snapping Gine out of her daze. She looked back at the origamitress who delivered her a heartfelt smile. "I…I will not ask if you do not want to talk about it but if you do, I'll listen,"
For a long moment, it looked as if the Chinoike was going to explain but after giving it thought, said nothing. A tense silence fell over them as they finished bathing instead.
Later that night, Konan was still awake, completing a final stitching job under the guidance of the dim candlelight. Gine was next to her in the futon, presumably asleep, so she was careful not to disturb her. Orochimaru hadn't sent any communication. This meant that she too must've had no success with the Mistress. It was disappointing but there was little to be done in the meantime but wait.
All of a sudden, Gine sat up. "I do want to talk about it," She proclaimed. She stared hard at Konan in the muted darkness, her violet orbs gleaming a pink hue from the faint blaze. "I know this may not be the time or place for it but I-I just want someone to listen to my side…of what happened that day." She sighed, her shoulders falling heavily as she hugged her knees to her chest like a child.
Konan was initially taken aback but honoured that the other trusted her enough to open up. Their service together in the organization was short and their interactions even shorter. She didn't want to squander that trust either. Setting down her sewing, she turned to face Gine, so she had her full and undivided attention. "I'm listening,"
"I'm going to start by saying the Chinoike weren't cannibals or cultists of the Death God. Not like Yugakure would lead you to believe. We weren't saints either, though. Because of the limited resources in the Valley of Death, there was always in-fighting and members killing each other. It got so bad that the Chieftain, my father, outlawed members from having children. That didn't go over well, obviously, but he did what he had to ensure the survival of the clan. Unfortunately, we didn't realize how bad things were until…until that day…" Gine tampered off with just the faintest of a quiver in her lips.
Her maternal instinct triggering, Konan placed a hand on Gine's trembling shoulder and inched closer. "Take your time,"
After taking a minute, Gine was able to calm herself enough to continue. "H-Half the clan had planned a coup…t-they were going to kill my father and his loyalists to take over for themselves. It was like…it was like a civil war broke out. One minute it was calm a-and the next…everyone is just…just killing each other," Gine hiccupped with a muffled sob as she buried her face against her knees.
Konan didn't have a tissue so offered a scrap patch of fabric she had left over from her mending instead. She had an inkling the poor girl had never had the opportunity to grieve. Likely due to being in fight-or-flight mode ever since Yugakure put a bounty on her head. Being indoctrinated into the Akatsuki didn't help things either. So, she must've kept it all bottled up inside until now. Gine accepted the kind gesture, using the clothe to dab her eyes.
"M-My fiancé…h-he was one of my father's bodyguards. He died protecting my father. I was…I was at home w-with my mother and sister when the fighting broke out. I did what I could to defend them but all it took was one second w-when I wasn't there for them…just one fucking second!" Gine yelled, slamming her fists into the straw flooring with a thud. "W-When it was all over…everyone was dead—my father, my mother, my baby sister, my fiancé…everyone. I…I was the only one left…"
"I'm so sorry, Gine," Konan whispered, as little as that did to mitigate the pain. "I understand what it is like. My parents were outspoken critics of Hanzō of the Salamander during the Second World War. He had them killed and I saw it all. After that, I became homeless. So, I have an idea of your pain. Maybe not losing a clan but losing family…feeling hopeless in their deaths. But why did Yugakure ever think you were responsible for that?"
"T-There was this boy. He…he was the son of a rancher that s-sent the Chinoike supplies—milk, eggs, wheat. She must've been the only one in Yugakure who didn't think we were a bunch of worshippers of Him—or, if she did, she didn't say so. Sometimes she delivered them herself but sometimes she sent her son. I was…I was in the middle of moving the bodies for burial. I was in such shock that I wasn't thinking straight and just wanted to put them to rest. He must've walked in because there was no one outside to accept supplies l-like normal. He…he saw me and all the bodies on my kinsfolk. I didn't see him until I heard something hit the ground. I turned to see him running out of the cave a-and a jug of milk split everywhere. I think he was the one to tell Yugakure what he saw and that I was the only one left. So, they just assumed I killed all of them and put a bounty on me."
Konan shook her head. "Ridiculous,"
"Then the fucking Uchiha showed up because Yugakure hired them to arrest me. So, I ran and didn't stop running until the Akatsuki caught up," Gine sighed deeply, using the damp clothe to wipe her nose, the skin of which felt raw from the snot leaking out of it. "Thanks for listening. I just…I needed someone to know to truth."
"Thank you for trusting me."
Gine nodded. "And please, don't tell anyone. I don't want people pitying me."
"Of course not. I'll say nothing."
With an uttering of gratitude, Gine turned over to try again to sleep. Konan did so too, leaving her sewing for tomorrow.
…
It was a few days later. After breakfast, Gine went upstairs to the third floor to "massage" customers. Konan, meanwhile, travelled through the bathhouse with a bundle of kimonos to drop off at the laundry in the basement. As she walked down one hallway, she bumped into a pot-bellied man in a towel walking the opposite direction towards her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir!"
"Chihiro! How're you this morning?" The man greeted her, using the towel to dry his wet, white hair too, flashing his "family jewels" Konan in the process. Oh, it was Sora. Though, Konan may be forgiven not realizing it was him at first. The man was out of his geisha guise, looking not so…well, let's just say it was amazing what a kimono and make-up could do—a lot of make-up.
"Oh Sora, my apologies. I am well, and you?"
"I am well! How has your first week been? The ladies didn't give you too much to do, did they?" As he asked this, he eyeballed the full wardrobe in her arms while drumming his fingers rhythmically against his stomach.
"Oh, no. This is nothing. I have done much more in a single day than this." Afterall, she'd taken mending a dozen kimono in a week over sewing one Akatsuki cloak any day. That included embroidering each red cloud by hand.
"Ah, so the girls back in Yukumo were more destruction to their clothes than here? That's surprising. These girls can't go two steps without ripping their kimonos on something. Are you going to the basement?"
"I am,"
"Perfect. Me too. I put my kimono in the dryer while I showered so it would be nice and warm." Sora politely stepped to the side, extending an arm for Konan to pass. Then, he walked alongside her towards the stairwell.
However, as they neared the bathhouse entrance, a loud commotion caused them to pause. Luna was speaking to an older geisha woman. She was the girl's face, aggressively gesturing and looking to be seconds from thrashing the poor thing.
"What do you mean that is not possible!?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you cannot be Yano Mana,"
"And why is that!?"
"Because Mother Mana is here,"
"What!? She's a fake! I'm Yano Mana! Where is Mother Yua? She knows! No, the Mistress knows!" It was at this point the woman's eye caught Sora and Konan standing off on the sidelines, quietly observing. She perked up. "You! You know who I am!" She exclaimed excitedly, pointing a red-manicured finger at Sora. Even getting face-to-face with the pug-faced, male geisha, looking like a child desperately for acknowledgement.
Sora calmly looked her over from head to toe for a moment before shaking his head. "I apologize, ma'am, but I do not know who you are." Upon hearing this, the woman's face dropped. Then a second later, gnarled with rage causing her white foundation to crack.
"Liars, all of you! Wait until I speak to the Mistress about this! All of you will be gone, all of you!" She screamed before marching out of the bathhouse, stamping her feet so hard she broke off one of the wooden teeth of her geta.
Once she was gone, Luna turned to face them, mainly Sora. She looked uncharacteristically displeased as she did. "Sora, may we speak?"
"Of course, Luna," He looked at Konan and gifted her a wide smile. "Chihiro, can you do me a kindness and get my kimono for me while you're in the laundromat? It's blue with white hemming and silver threading of a phoenix,"
"I can." Konan, her tone temperate even though her belly was writhing with anxiety. She couldn't believe the real Yano Mana not only survived the little fire Orochimaru set to her lounge house but came here of all places.
"Thank you. You can just leave it in my room," With that, he and Luna exited down the hallway to walk and speak in private. It denied Konan an easy way to listen in without having to tail them all over the bathhouse and garnering suspicion. She desperately wanted to hear what was being discussed and whether they had just been found out.
She suddenly remembered Orochimaru mentioning the golden snake she had lent them. It wasn't just for communication, but a perfect "listening device" too. Quickly, she fished Yuld from her bun and laid the little serpent on the floor. It then swiftly slithered its way after the duo. She couldn't stand around and wait for it to come back. So, she continued her migration to the basement to drop off a load of kimonos and also pick up the one for Sora. It'd give her something to occupy her mind in the meantime. Unfortunately, she could not inform Gine nor Orochimaru of this development at the moment.
It wasn't until lunchtime that Konan could speak to Gine and quickly ushered the Chinoike into their bedroom to talk. Before they did, however, she lined the walls with layer upon layer of her paper to muffle their voices. She did not want to assume all the other geisha ladies (and Sora) were in the kitchen and therefore risk being eavesdropped upon.
"The real Yano Mana arrived at the bathhouse today. Orochimaru's disguise may've been compromised." Konan whispered to Gine despite the soundproofing.
Gine's violet eyes widened. "Seriously?" Konan nodded but didn't explain further.
Instead, she drew Yuld from her hair where it had stashed itself away once back from its objective. Konan set it on her palm and both women leaned in to listen to what the little snake had to say.
"Sora, why did that woman say she was Yano Mana?"
Yuld slithered to the other side of Konan's hand to mimic Sora. "I do not know,"
"How did she know you then?"
"I do not know,"
"Sora—"
"Luna, you are asking questions. You know what happens when people ask questions. The Mistress does not like it,"
"I know, but—"
"Then stop. There are things best unknown. It's for your own good,"
Yuld fell silent. Konan and Gine thought that was the end of the conversation until a few seconds later, he slid back to the other side of Konan's palm to indicate Luna. "Something is going on, I just know it." Finally, that was the end of the conversation and the snake wrapped itself back around the blue-haired woman's ring finger to nap.
"Shit, we've been outed!" Gine hissed.
"Not us, but Orochimaru is." Konan inferred. "I don't understand why Sora said he did not recognize Yano Mana when she obviously recognized him."
"Maybe he genuinely believes Orochimaru is the real Yano Mana? Or he could be biding his time to collect more evidence."
Konan tapped her chin with her orange fingernails, sighed, and shook her head. "I don't know but what I do know is Orochimaru's guise is jeopardized, and we have to let her know before it's too late." Gine nodded in agreement and Konan lifted Yuld closer to her face. The golden snake positioned its tail to its head, indicating it was listening. "Orochimaru, this is Konan. Yano Mana was here today—the real Yano Mana. You may have been compromised—us too. We don't know yet. We have to find the Mistress before she learns we're Akatsuki and disappears. Time is running out."
Konan paused, looking at Gine, waiting in case there was anything she'd like to add. However, the white-haired woman shook her head, indicating not. Konan put down Yuld and the snake quickly slinked under the paper room out of the bedroom to find its master.
"So, what do we do now?" Gine inquired from Konan once their communication device was gone.
"Now? Nothing. We carry on with our daily duties and act as if nothing is going on. If Orochimaru is outed as a fake, best thing we can do is feign ignorance. Maybe they'll believe us as just two, naïve geisha who survived a bathhouse fire and had no idea our okiya wasn't the real Yano Mana."
"That's a lot of maybes." Gine deadpanned.
Konan let out a grand sigh. "Yes, but it is all we can do is hope it does not come to that. But in case it does, we may want to start thinking of a backup plan."
"Then let's start thinking of one over lunch. Let's go to the kitchen before people start looking for us,"
Once shedding the room of Konan's paper, the two exited towards the kitchen that was abuzz with chattering and clattering of porcelain dishes. Neither saw Orochimaru during the meal period. Afterward, went Gine back upstairs while Konan left to their bedroom to do her sewing. Yuld was waiting inside, having successfully met with the Sannin while they were gone.
Konan listened to the message Orochimaru left. In it, the older woman acknowledged her guise may've been jeopardized but she'd think of her own contingency plan. Unfortunately, she also confirmed no further developments on the Mistress. She ended the communication by saying: "I do so hope we find this Mistress bird soon as I tire of this place. It smells of wet dog."
That night, Konan shared Orochimaru's message with Gine and they briefly deliberated on a backup plan. However, exhaustion on the Chinoike's end led to little progress and the conversation being cut short. It was then decided that the discussion be continued tomorrow after a long night's rest for them both. That discussion never came to be.
The next morning, Gine had to skip breakfast as a high-paying client was requesting her immediately. The Ketsuryūgan had caused her to be unintentionally popular with the male clientele. They loved her "quick" yet "mind-blowing" services. Due to this, Konan hadn't the opportunity to speak with Gine that morning. So, last night's dialogue would have to wait until lunch.
In the meantime, Konan occupied herself with her sewing. Luna happened to own one of the mended kimonos and Konan saw it as a golden opportunity to use it to strike up a friendly conversation with the girl. Maybe if she was lucky, Luna would open up about yesterday's incident with the real Yano Mana. If she did, it likely meant she did not suspect either Konan or Gine of being playactors too. Sora, on the other hand, however… That was an issue for another time. So, with kimono in hand, Konan walked downstairs to the lobby of the bathhouse.
Unfortunately, Luna was not there. Curiously, though, it was another bathhouse girl—Naomi, yes, that was her name. Konan had sewed for her too, but at this point, who hadn't she sewed for in the bathhouse? Mother Yua hadn't been lying when she said the girls here were "clumsy"; lots of tears and snags.
Despite this inconvenience, Konan didn't let it discourage her as she walked up to Naomi with a polite, disarming smile. "Hello, Naomi."
Naomi had been busy with the logbook and flinched with a little gasp. Her head snapped around to stare at Konan, her blue eyes large. "O-Oh, Chihiro. Sorry, I didn't see you."
"Oh no, I'm sorry for startling you. I just wanted to ask: have you seen Luna? I've finished sewing her kimono." Konan lifted the fiery orange robe strewn over her arm.
Naomi's eyes grew larger, impossibly so, and a bead of sweat dribbled down from underneath her blue bangs. "L-Luna?" Konan nodded, smile falling away a little upon the other woman's obvious nervousness. "W-Who?"
Instantly, Konan's smile spiralled downwards into a deep frown. "Luna?" She said again. She found it hard to believe Naomi didn't know who Luna was when the blue-haired woman had seen the two talking during meals.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't know who that is." Naomi insisted, face a deathly white as her eyes flickered to and fro as if looking out for something—or someone. It was then it clicked in Konan's mind.
Yes, of course. The rumour of missing geisha Gine had mentioned yesterday. Luna too must've disappeared. That was why Naomi was feigning ignorance, she was scared. But why Luna? Was it because of yesterday and her knowledge that Orochimaru was not the real Yano Mana? It was too conventual to be a coincidence. Now that Konan thought of it, neither had she seen Sora of late. The male geisha had been suspiciously missing from breakfast. Was he too missing? Was it the Mistress' doing? Obviously. Though, Konan didn't understand why the two people who may know of Orochimaru's mimicry were the ones to disappear.
She inquired none of this, however. Instead, Konan's blue lips piqued back into a smile, though faker than last. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must be mistaken. I apologize for bothering you, Naomi." Naomi said nothing, just nodding with her lips pursed into a thin line. Konan turned on her heel and left from whence she came. She glimpsed over her shoulder to see Naomi still anxiously glancing about as if the walls themselves were listening.
Konan had to let Gine and Orochimaru know immediately of this development. Also, if Luna and Sora had disappeared due to their involvement yesterday, there was a real possibility that Konan too was next for being present. She'd have to keep her wits about her and stay alert, so she too didn't go mysteriously "missing".
It was while in the bedroom, waiting for Gine to get back at lunch, that there was a knock on the door. Konan opened it to a familiar face.
…
At lunch, Gine dragged herself to the room she bunked with Konan, exhausted from the back-to-back use of the Blood Dragon Eye. It must've been the most she used the Kekkei Genkai in her life. She was just glad that, unlike the Sharingan, there were no long-term consequence of the overuse of the Ketsuryūgan.
As she entered her temporary bedroom, she was surprised to see Konan wasn't there. She reckoned the other female may be out, either dropping off her latest sewing or even at the kitchen already, either or. Gine didn't think too much on it. As she turned to leave again, she nearly walked into a person going down the hallway. The dishware on the tray they were carrying jangled noisily.
"Whoops! Sorry about that, Rin!" It was Sora.
"Err, it's ok," Gine said sheepishly, swiping a hand down her kimono to smooth it out but also make sure nothing had split onto it.
"I'm so glad I caught you. We have a new sake on the menu so I'm going around and asking all the girls to try it," Sora lifted the tray to eye level. On it was a decorative sake bottle and a single cylindrical cup laid out. "Please, try a sample!"
Gine leant back, raising a hand between herself and the male geisha to establish space. "No thanks. Listen, have you seen Ko—Chihiro?"
Sora lowered the board and then smiled at Gine, his red lips ear-to-ear and eyes in half-moons. "Who?"
…
Zetsu was wrong. Never had she thought something as basic as washing potatoes would be so exhausting. After a dozen spuds or so, however, the ice-cold water wrinkled and whitened her skin, causing it to ache. It was also causing her pink nail polish to flake. However, an upside was her listening in on the dialogue going on in the kitchen. Hopefully, she could learn more about this "Father" figure.
Unfortunately, no such information was shared as the other "pets" kept silent. A majority of talking was being done by the eldest boy, Silas, who was barking orders at everyone. Curiously, he left Zetsu alone. Either because she was maintaining an acceptable potato washing pace, or due to her inferred "docile" status. Either or.
As more unenthused labour was brought in, it became a little too piled up so a lucky few were sent out to walk the floor. Zetsu saw her opportunity, not only to ferret out Kakuzu maybe Father too out in the ballroom. Also to leave the kitchen as the intense aroma of cooking food was causing her nausea. Thankfully, she got her opening too as she observed Silas saying something to Liza, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder as he did. Liza nodded at her brother and looked over at Zetsu. She quickly turned back to the potato was she was in the process of waterboarding.
"Girl!" Zetsu looked up again to see Liza standing next to her, all smiles and blonde curls bouncing. "Silas says they need more garcons in the ballroom. Want to help me?" Zetsu didn't accept immediately but Liza must've taken her blank stare as agreement anyway. She left only to come back a moment later with a large silver serving tray.
After helping Zetsu dry off her hands, Liza gifted her the platter. It was so large the woman had to hug it against her chest with her arms circled its circumference. Once Liza was positive it wasn't going to be dropped, she lined the reflective surface with crystal goblets. Next, she filled them with red wine, expensive red wine, no doubt. Zetsu didn't understand how a person was meant to stabilize it without shinobi training. The last one filled, Liza got a new bottle of the name-brand wine and ushered Zetsu out of the kitchen back towards the ballroom.
By now, a lot more people had arrived since she and Kakuzu. Zetsu was having difficulty finding her mentor amidst the troupe of unknown faces and shuffling bodies. However, she did pinpoint his chakra as being present within the ballroom which made her feel better. She just wished she could communicate with him like she could with Sir Leader.
In the meantime, she shadowed Liza around the extravagant ballroom, going from table to table to offer wine or refill glasses for the guests of honour for the gala. Zetsu tried to keep herself neutral, but it was impossible. Especially upon identifying a few high-profile persons. One being a particularly young Mizukage too, exhibiting his childish age by being boosted upon two, thickset encyclopedias. Just being near him was plaguing as his massive chakra signature was paralyzing Zetsu. It was as if—
All of a sudden, the Mizukage's head jerked towards Zetsu, interrupting the diplomatic discussion with the other three gentlemen at the table. One being a timid Water Daimyō. Zetsu stared back into his pink eyes. She first questioned if he recognized her. Not personally but as an Akatsuki member. Though, it would be impossible or should be impossible—but then, she sensed it. Fear? Yes, it was fear, so dark, so deep the salvia in her mouth grew muddy and tasted of tar. So much so, she self-consciously scraped her teeth over her tongue. The fear was not his, though. It emitted from deeper within, a pit of blackness of diabolism yet despair. Something was inside him, writhing in the darkness like a frightened child, but frightened of what?
Zetsu didn't get her answer, if there was one at all, nor did she know how long she was lost in the swirling depression. When she came blinking back to consciousness, Liza was wiping her face with a napkin. During her stupefaction, Zetsu had forgotten how to swallow causing an overabundance of drool to leak from her yawning mouth, much to her embarrassment. It was a miracle she didn't drop the tray too. Her first reaction was to apologize to Liza, but did not, or rather could not.
"It's ok," Liza said with a sad smile as if reading Zetsu's mind. "I'm sure that happens a lot, huh?" Zetsu neither confirmed nor denied, just clinching her jaws together. The chakra rod in her neck was tingling and she rubbing it against her shoulder.
Liza didn't badger her about it, and they went back to serving. Thankfully far, far away from the Mizukage too. Near the main stage, Zetsu could see the Kakuzu. He was seated with two other men, laidback too with one leg slung over his knee and a glass of dark liquor. Unconsciously, Zetsu inched her way towards him. Liza must've noticed this. That, or the way the other female kept glancing his way.
"Is that your owner?" Liza curiously asked and pointed at Kakuzu. Zetsu internally grimaced at the use of "owner" when citing Kakuzu. Yet given their current circumstance, she begrudgingly nodded. "Let's go show him how good you're doing!"
What happened next—Zetsu wasn't sure what happened. She was trailing a skipping Liza to the table Kakuzu sat and snubbed her foot on something she couldn't see due to the large tray. Next thing she knew, she was falling, and glasses were flying. Zetsu impacted the ground with the silver platter landed inches away with a thunderous bang. It resonated over the orchestra playing on stage of the ballroom and drew all peeping eyes towards the loud noise.
"Girl!" Liza hurried over and supported a dazed Zetsu back to her feet. It was then discovered a thick cord to one of the speakers on theater platform caused her fall, buried poorly underneath a persian rug. Someone would've tripped on it, sooner or later.
Fortunately, none of the glass or wine hit Kakuzu. Unfortunately, the gentleman across from him was not so lucky. He was clobbered with falling crystal and his black-and-white checkered suit was dyed red with wine.
"My suit!" The man cried. Instantly, he leapt out of his chair and looked down at his suit which looked akin to a gruesome crime scene. Then, he glared at Zetsu, red-faced with imaginary steam billowing up from his bald head. He pointed a trembling finger at her. "You dumb, little bitch! You have any idea how expensive this suit was!? More expensive than your pathetic life!"
"It was just an accident! She didn't mean to!" Liza exclaimed in Zetsu's defense. Her words did nothing as the man lifted his hand high in an obvious striking gesture.
Liza got in front of Zetsu as if to take the hit herself. There was no need to, though, as before the man's hand could come down, another hand caught his wrist. He looked up to find Kakuzu staring down at him.
"Do. Not. Touch. Her." Kakuzu uttered in a low growl, squeezing the man's wrist. It was a warning that could and would break it if he tried that again.
Unintimidated, the bald man harrumphed and yanked his arm away with no resistance from Kakuzu. "Is that one yours?" He questioned, rubbing his wrist while bobbing his head towards Zetsu. "Since you're not going to let me discipline the little devil, then by all means." Kakuzu turned towards Zetsu, and he didn't have to say a thing. They both knew what he had to do.
"Move." He calmly instructed Liza who was still standing between him and his "pet".
"It was just an accident. She didn't mean it!" She again tried to plea, but Kakuzu wasn't having it.
"Move!" He roared this time, fists clenched into white-knuckled fists. It was a false anger, however. Zetsu sensed this through his chakra. In fact, there was a twinge of sadness.
Liza didn't know this and flinched. After a moment of hesitation, she uttered a quiet "sorry" to Zetsu in a whisper before stepping off to the side. She looked mournfully down at her black ballet flats while wringing her fluffy dress between her hands.
Kakuzu stood over Zetsu. While nothing was said, she could partially feel him apologizing to her for what he was about to do. She didn't blame him, though. It had to be done. As he raised his hand, she braced herself. She clinched her teeth together with her jaw tilted towards her neck. She also prepared herself mentally for the pain. Once she was ready, she stared at Kakuzu and, taking her silent cue, brought his hand down. Despite keeping her eyes open, she still didn't see it coming.
It was like a blur. One second, she was standing and the next, she was not, laid out on the ground a few feet from her original position. Kakuzu had done his damnedest to hold back. Yet, he had still succeeded in slapping her across the ballroom. When Zetsu came to, the first thing she noticed was an upset Liza over her. She was asking if she was okay or so Zetsu presumed as it was impossible to tell through the ringing in her ears. Second was the pain. Inside of her cheek, it shredded after grating against her canines, lining her mouth with coppery blood. The cheek itself was throbbing and immediately beginning to swell. She had difficulty opening her left eye. The funny thing was that wasn't even the worst Kakuzu had hit her. It was a love tap in all regards.
Liza helped her up and had to support her as the slap had left her light-headed and dizzy. Kakuzu looked at Zetsu once last time, desperately trying to hide the guilt snaking into his dark features before turning away. He apologized to the balding man who looked quite smug with the punishment dealt. Meanwhile, Liza escorted a discombobulated Zetsu through the ballroom, past gawking guests and disgruntled butlers left to clean up the mess.
Once back in the kitchen, Liza sat Zetsu down on a stool. Silas, noticing them back, frowned when seeing Zetsu's face. The left side of it was now an angry, bright red and so swollen it looked as if she had used a bee as bubble gum. Not to mention the blood dribbling out of her mouth.
"What happened?" He asked, predictably so, as he his wiped his hands clean on his apron.
"There was an accident," Liza explained, coming back from the freezer with a frozen steak. However, Silas snatched it from her hand seeing she was trying to use filet mignon as an ice pack.
"What kind of accident?"
They were temporarily interrupted as a curious Axel left his station to investigate what his siblings were talking about. He gasped upon seeing Zetsu's face. "Eww! Her face looks like a sweet potato!" He proclaimed loudly and pointed. This earned a few inquisitive glances from the servants working the kitchen.
"Axel! It's rude to point," Silas barked at his baby brother, and lightly slapped his little hand. He then pawned the steak off on the black-haired boy, nudging him towards the walk-in freezer to put it back. "Liza, what happened?"
"She tripped and spilt wine on a guest," Liza finally confessed, pressing a dirty yet damp cloth to Zetsu's face. She had nothing else to use. Zetsu flinched initially but the cold eased the pain, if just a little. However, at this point, it did nothing for the inflammation. "It was an accident though! She tripped over a dumb cord."
Silas turned over his blue eyes and folded his arms. "Uh-huh."
"I'm serious, Silas! It was an accident. She didn't deserve to be hit like that,"
"Was it her master who hit her?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then she did deserve it, Liza. She's one of them, afterall." Silas nodded his head to gesture at the personal slaves working the ovens. They must've known he was speaking of them as he got a few glares in turn.
"It's not fair," Liza said but went ignored. Silas had gone back to "managing" the kitchen as he yelled at the ones he caught glowering at him and ordered them to get back to work. Liza sighed sorrowfully, hanging her head between her knees as she sat next to Zetsu. "I wish Father could adopt them all like he did with us. It's not fair!"
"What is not fair, Liza?"
Liza looked up as did Zetsu to see a grey-haired gentleman standing quietly in the doorway of the kitchen. Dressed in black trousers, a six-buttoned double-breasted tailcoat, and a grey vest, he looked like one of the butlers. However, it soon became apparent that he was not.
Upon seeing the man, Liza exclaimed "Father!" and ran towards him with open arms. Zetsu's heart skipped a beat, and a twinge of anxiety penetrated her insides. That was Father?
Father chuckled and patted his daughter hugging onto his leg. Then, he gazed upon Zetsu who didn't realize her staring. "Oh my. What happened to this one?"
Liza detached herself from her adoptive father's leg. "Her master hit her because she spilt wine on someone," She stomped her foot. "But it was an accident!"
"Oh, so that was what all the ballyhoo was about? Let me see," Father calmly approached Zetsu, who was trying to stay calm. She now had their target but no way to tell Kakuzu. Leaning over, Father grabbed her chin, turning her face to inspect her like an object instead of a person. "Yes, yes. Oh. She's docile too. Perfect, just perfect." His silver eyes had a devilish glint, the gaze of a man who ran a human trafficking syndicate and turned kidnapping into a business. Zetsu didn't like it. It was a look that invoked memories, bad memories.
Father smiled and let go of Zetsu's face, fixing his golden spectacles as he stood up. "I'll see if I can't come to an agreement with her master."
Liza gasped excitedly. "So, you'll adopt her too!?"
Father smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Why don't you point out her master for me so I may speak with him?"
While Zetsu was glad Kakuzu was to be involved, she didn't have a good feeling about this. Not at all.
…
"So, how'd you sleep?"
"Like shit," Kisame said, his neck letting out a sequence of popping like popcorn as he swiveled his head from shoulder to shoulder. It didn't help he still had that damnable collar on too. "I wasn't expectin' a luxury stay but blanket an' pillow would'a been nice."
Jūzō chuckled. "I get what ya mean. I was freezin'. I thought I was gonna like, wake up all black and blue from frostbite. Or missin' fingers from all them rats runnin' around. I heard they like, eat people if they're hungry enough."
"Speaking of hungry. Guessin' we ain't gettin' breakfast?" Kisame looked around the dark basement-like room. Other entrants were littered about, laying and shivering on the cold, stone floor. A few still sleeping while others were in stages of groggily waking like Kisame and Jūzō.
Kisame's answer came as loud footsteps declined the squealing metal stairwell. The noise thundered off the rock walls and disturbed those still slumbering. Scrutinizing the fresh "meat" laid out was the butcher himself. Schism's ugly, mutilated face filtered through the darkness with eyes of black and gold staring down the men.
"Up! Up, you lazy bags o' meat!" Schism yelled and kicked his metal-toed boot against the steel flight of step. It caused most everyone to flinch and shield their ears from the deafening sound. "Get yo useless asses into da armoury! You got five minutes! If you don't, then you ain't gonna hafta worry 'bout dyin' in da Colosseum because I'll be killin' you myself!" Schism then marched back up the stairs, each step loud and clear against the metal grate flooring of the Splatterhouse overhead.
Kisame and Jūzō looked at each other and shrugged. They followed the other "meat" who unenthusiastically dragged themselves upstairs to their deaths. However, Jūzō noticed something and stopped. He extended his arm out to stop Kisame who gifted him an inquisitive look.
"Hey, ain't that the dude that tried to like, kill us?" Jūzō pointed at one of the men lumbering by.
Kisame squinched his eyes at the person in question because of his bad eyesight in the poor lighting. "Oh! You're right, it is, ain't it? Why don't we go say hi?" Jūzō nodded and the two walked towards the other man.
"Hey," The dark-haired male lifted his hanging head to look at the two swordsmen looming over him. "Shingo, wasn't it?" Shingo's sunken eyes widened. He immediately leapt backwards, his greasy face growing greasier with a fresh surge of sweat.
"Hey, hey, relax man. We ain't gonna hurt ya or nothin'," Jūzō said, lifting his hands as a sign of peace. "We didn't take the whole tryin' to kill an' stuff personal like." Shingo glanced from Jūzō to Kisame who was nodding to echo his partner's sentiment.
Shingo swallowed thickly, his dry throat clicking. He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to listen in before speaking. "They…they caught you too?"
Kisame scratched the back of his head. "Not exactly. It's complicated." He shrugged.
"Oh well, you can tell me. I'm going to die here anyway," Shingo's shoulders fell as he said this though invisible underneath the blue suit he was still wearing.
"Why didn't you keep runnin', man?" Jūzō couldn't help but ask. Afterall, last he and Kisame saw the disobliging accomplice to the Black Mark, he was fleeing into the woods. Perhaps to live his new life as a lumberjack.
"It's complicated," Shingo said, parroting Kisame earlier.
"Hey man, tell us all about it. We got five minutes," Kisame said, trying to inject a little light humour into such a dark situation.
After a moment of silence, Shingo let out a long-drawn sigh. "My wife and daughter are buried here," Jūzō uttered a small "oh" while Kisame frowned. "Before Yamigakure was—this, it was nothing but farmland—my farmland. It had been in my family for five generations. We grew yams for Kumogakure. Then, one day, the man known as the Overseer and the Black Mark showed up. He demanded my land and when I denied, he kidnapped my wife and daughter. So, I handed over the deed, thinking they'd give them back—and they did, in pieces." Shingo paused, his tired eyes glistening with tears as he trembled. Kisame clapped a supportive hand on the poor man's shoulder.
Shingo sniffled and wiped off his tears with a dirty hand before continuing. "I-I tried to go to Kumo for help, but I was turned away. They said since I signed over the deed, it was a legal deal. S-So, I buried my sweet Chiku and Amani, thinking the Overseer was going to leave me be but no. He bulldozed my home in the middle of the night and turned my land into what you see now. He even got it recognized as a micronation so Kumo would have no governance over it."
"Bastard," Jūzō shook his head. "I'm sorry, man."
Shingo sighed again. "I gambled what little money I had left, hoping if I won enough, I could hire someone to come in and take out the Overseer and Black Mark so I could get my land back. Unfortunately, I lost it all and fell into debt. It led to the Black Mark giving me the ultimatum of helping them or being sold off to the Colosseum. I didn't want to die so I accepted their proposal and—yeah…" Nothing else had to be said on that, obviously. It was sad to think that in another timeline, Shingo successfully saved the money and likely would've contracted the Akatsuki to take out the Overseer and his Black Mark guerillas.
Shingo straightened up. "I tried staying away but I kept thinking about my Chiku and Amani and how they were all alone here. So, I came back and well, it didn't take long for the Black Mark to notice. And that's why I'm here." He slumped over again.
"I'm sorry, Shingo," Kisame said, as little as that would do for the man's unfortunate plight.
"So, why are you two here? If I can ask."
Kisame glimpsed around. By now, there were the only three left. Everyone else had gone to the upper level as instructed. So, there was minimal risk of being eavesdropped on. "We're here to take out the Overseer and Black Mark," Shingo nodded without an ounce of surprise on his oily face nor happiness given the good news.
"Yeah, our boss didn't like, like them tryin' to off us." Jūzō commented, itching his facial scar.
"For the sake of my wife and daughter, I hope you do."
"Is there anything you can tell us about this Overseer bastard? Or maybe the Colosseum and how we win it?" Kisame then inquired.
Shingo thread his fingers through his stingy, black hair. "I don't know much about the Overseer. He used to be a member of the Eight Tails Subduing Team from Kumogakure, I think. He was wearing their uniform when I first met him. It's been long since retired, though. As for the Colosseum, there is no 'winning' it, just surviving. Even then, there's only ever been one person to survive to the end,"
"Schism," Jūzō interjected, and Shingo nodded to confirm.
"Those who survive until the end fight the Overseer himself,"
Kisame's eyebrows lifted to his hairline. "Seriously?" Shingo nodded again. "So, this Overseer cat must be one tough customer then?" He must be if he was a supposable member of a team trained to tame the Hachibi.
"Yes but no. He doesn't—he isn't human,"
Jūzō laughed at this. "Ain't human? I don't know if you like, notice, man, but my partner here ain't human either." He patted Kisame on the shoulder with said ningyo rolling his eyes though with no offense taken.
Shingo wasn't laughing though as he shook his head, splashing old tears and sweat everywhere. "No, I mean, he is human, but he can turn into something else—." However, before he could explain further, there were loud footfalls on the metal walkway coming towards them. Looks like their five-minute window was up.
All three men double-timed it up the stairwell only to be met in the middle by an angry-looking Schism. In his hand, an overexaggerated butcher's knife. It didn't take a genius to know what he intended to do with it either. Kisame and Jūzō used themselves as human shields for Shingo just in case.
"You are late," Schism said. He gestured at the two with the knife, its polished, silver surface gleaming sinisterly in the candlelight.
"We were just talkin' an' lost track of time is all." Kisame nonchalantly said with Jūzō bobbing his head in an upward nod.
Neither divided their eyes off Schism. The bronze-skinned man must've noticed this. That, or he realized that he was outnumbered and outweighed by the swordsmen, so he wisely kept his blade down, scowling antagonistically instead of keeping his threat to kill any latecomers.
"No mo' talkin'. Yous are comin' wiv me." Kisame nor Jūzō challenged him, and they calmly shadowed Schism up to the armoury with a lily-livered Shingo in their stead.
Once there, Kisame, Jūzō and Shingo fell in with the other "contestants", mindful of the sharp weaponry hanging over their heads. Schism stared everyone down with a look of arrogance, humans and ningyo alike, as he walked the line.
"Listen up, meat. You are to be split into two sides an' two o' you are goin' into da Colosseum but only one o' yous are comin' back alive. Maybe none. But dat is a sacrifice I am willin' ta make," He announced. He gave them all a second look, his lips moving yet nothing was spoken as he counted to himself. "Perfect! We have enough to make it even. I do not have to kill anyone dis time."
Thrusting his arms between them, Schism forcibly divided the men into two halves. Luckily, Kisame and Jūzō stayed together. Shingo, however, was in the other group.
After a brief silence, Schism pointed at two individuals from each side and continued, "You an' you are da lucky winnas to fight first. Choose yo weapons an' make it bloody."
The two men looked to be understandably intimidated, but they didn't object, plead for mercy, or cry. Quietly, they accepted their fate and stepped out of the queue to choose from a large selection of sharp and pointy weapons. Schism scanned the others who had been fortunate enough not to be selected.
"Da rest o' yous, go up to da Cages. Don't go prayin' ya ain't gonna hafta fight today. It's ok though 'cause there'll be mo' of yous tomorrow, there always is." He chuckled, his golden and silver teeth shining brightly in the hazy light.
Schism then led them through the dark, bloody bowels of the Slaughterhouse and sent each side up into the Colosseum.
The "Cage" was an open-air space boxed-in by rusty chain-link fencing. It looked out into the circular arena, lined with long, bloodied spikes and a grated middle for draining blood into the Hole. On the opposite side of the Colosseum was an identical space while there were gates to the north and south. Overhead were stands of fans, belligerent and inebriated off the cheap booze passed out like water. Even being outside did little for the smell of blood, beer and piss. Schism was in the centre of the Colosseum with a megaphone in hand.
"Ladies an' Gentlemen! Welcome to da Colosseum!" Schism broadcasted into it to thunderous cheering. "Are you ready fo a fight…to da death!?" Louder cheering as people obnoxiously yelled and stomped their feet against the metal bleachers. "Up wiv' da gates!" Schism walked off to the side to referee.
The gates were lifted by a chain pulley system and the two contestants entered through. Kisame and Jūzō watched in morbid curiosity. Not because they wanted to see two poor bastards murderizing each other but so they could get an idea of what to expect. The men stood there, not fighting but glancing around nervously. Instantly, the jovial crowd turned hostile, booing and throwing food and beer bottles into the arena, empty and full.
"If you do not fight then you will both die," Schism spoke up through the megaphone while casually seated in a lawn chair, holding a beer.
A second later, a kunai flew out from one of the observation towers overlooking the Colosseum and slashed one of the competitors through the ear. It was just a warning, but it was successful as the frightened man picked up his spear and charged forward at full-speed. The other man tried parrying it with his sword. He failed and was promptly and horrifically impaled. The bladed spear punched through his abdomen and out his back. He didn't go out quietly though, gurgling on blood and swinging his blade like a madman. The spear was yanked out. With it, a torrent of blood and guts and the sword-wielding man let out a gruesome death rattle before dropping dead.
"We have a winna!" Schism exclaimed and the crowd went wild. He got up to congratulate the winner who was slumped over and squeezing his own neck. As it turned out, the dead man's helter-skelter slashing had succeeded in slitting his throat. So, before Schism could get to the victor, he too fell over and bled to death. "Uh oh, looks like dere is no winnas!" The audience cared not that it was a draw as the brutality caused their hooping and hollering to grow louder. The bodies were dragged out of the arena to be dumped unceremoniously into the Hole.
Kisame shook his head while Jūzō sighed. What a prideless way to go. These fights lacked honour and were barbaric. There men were no warriors. They were too old or ill or both. Either they ended up here due to poor life decisions or because their owners sold them off for a few bucks after they outlived their usefulness. It was inhumane. But this was no place for morals or goodness.
"You! Ningyo!"
Kisame blinked, his white third lid swiping over his eyes to remoisten them. Obviously, he thought it was he was being spoken to since he was the only ningyo here. Then he saw Schism pointing at a bewildered Jūzō standing next to him. So, they may or may not have forgotten the myth Sasori told of Jūzō being a ningyo too to get them in together. It wasn't too half-baked to think him as one either.
Jūzō looked at Kisame and with a nod, signaled him to go. He'd be just fine by himself. Taking his partner's blessing, Jūzō trudged back into the Slaughterhouse to gear up. Kisame felt bad for whoever faced him but also not. It was a mercy for them.
"Ladies an' Gentlemen! We got a special one fo yous today! A mermaid itself in da flesh!" Kisame sighed. What a nice, offhanded bit of racism. But, whatelse could he expect from the people here?
Once the match started, Jūzō stepped out with the largest sword he could find. It wasn't as large as Kubikiribōchō and built with sheet metal, but it would do the job. And it did. The "fight", if it could even be labelled as such, was over in seconds as Jūzō cleanly took the head off his opponent. It was a quick and painless death. Despite it being over so fast, Jūzō got an ovation as he exited. Then, it was Kisame's turn.
While he didn't see who Schism named as his opponent, but he promised himself to make their death as instant. Like Jūzō, he picked the biggest, fuck-off sword available and took his place behind the north gate.
"Ladies an' Gentlemen! I lied to yous. We don't have just one mermaid to fight fo yous today. We have two!" Schism boardcasted much to fan's delighted huzzahs. "Lift up da gates!" The gate chugged open.
Kisame marched out and felt his stomach fall when he saw who was walking out on the other side. It was Shingo. Schism's eye twinkled with a devious look as he smirked into his half-empty beer. Obviously, this match-up had been done on purpose.
"Shingo…" Kisame said quietly as he stared down at the smaller male.
Shingo gifted him a sad smile. "It's ok. It has to be done," He flashed his hands which were empty of any weapons. "I'm not going to fight for their entertainment." Neither did he have body armour. His wishes were crystal clear to Kisame.
"I'll make it quick. I'm sorry, brother," Shingo nodded. Kisame lifted his weapon and swung it towards his head.
Unfortunately, Shingo flinched. This caused the muscles in his neck to tense and due to the sword's piss-poor build, it didn't slash, it hacked, jamming itself halfway through the man's neck. Kisame immediately extracted the bloody blade and Shingo collapsed, gasping. However, before Kisame could end his suffering, Schism called the match and declared him the winner.
A cleaner then showed up, lugging the bleeding Shingo through the dirt to be deposited into the Hole too. Kisame didn't wait around. Once the gate was up again, he was sprinting through it and back into the Slaughterhouse. Jūzō, who had been watching the match from the sidelines, met him below and they both booked it for the Hole. It was there they found Shingo, lying face-up atop the bodies of the other fighters that died that day, beneath the cascade of fresh blood oozing in from the arena above.
"Shingo! Shingo, I'm so sorry. I—"
"It's…ok…" Shingo wheezed, interrupting Kisame's heartfelt apology. The cut to his neck had nicked his throat, making it difficult to breathe and speak. Jūzō was unwrapping the bandages around his ears to use as a tourniquet for Shingo's neck but was stopped by Kisame. There was no use to it. He had severed an artery. "Listen, I…I have one…last wish…before I leave…to see my…Chiku…and Amani…please?"
"Anything, man." Jūzō said and rested a hand on his shoulder so he didn't feel so alone in his last moments.
"Kill…the Overseer…kill…the Black Mark…kill…them all."
Kisame nodded and put his hand on his other shoulder. "You've got our promise, brother."
"Thank…you…" Shingo let out one, last dying gasp and breathed no more, the life disappearing from his tired eyes. It may have not been painless, but it was a quick death.
Kisame and Jūzō stayed crouched next to the dead man for awhile until Jūzō all of a sudden stood up. He thrusted his hand in Kisame's face and stared hard at the ningyo, much to his partner's puzzlement.
"We burnin' this place down or not?" Jūzō then asked and Kisame finally cottoned on.
As Kisame stood up, he slapped his hand against Jūzō's, squeezing it tightly. Jūzō squeezed back just as hard as they locked arms. "Let's burn this motherfucker to the ground."
…
AN: Finally. Finally this chapter is finished. I'm so sorry for the hiatus. Life, lots of life this year. I also became displeased with my writing so am getting lessons to clean it up. Oh, and I'm using an online editor now too. So, it may or may not look better now.
Anyway, this chapter is finally done which means were two-thirds of the way through his mini-arc and if you thought this chapter was bad towards the end, you've seen nothing yet. Next chapter is going to be…well, I guess you'll just have to wait and read, won't you? And I promise it won't take almost a year to get out this time.
Next Chapter: The Father, the Mistress, and the Overseer: Finale.
Until Next Time.