Wasteland

by Roucarnage

An alternate telling of the Akatsuki, from humble beginnings to the bitter end. From an extinct bloodline, to a dysfunctional family dynamic, sibling rivalry, puppy love, tragedy and a war one thousand years in the making. Rated M for Violence/Blood/Gore/Language/Death/Implied Adult Situations/OOC/OC/Genderbend.

67. Arc 3: Chapter 66

AN: Finally, the last chapter of this mini-arc, and oh boy, it's going to be something. Again, listen to the warnings listed. They're not fucking around. After this, there's going to be one more chapter and then guess what? New Akatsuki member time! Yes, sir. Finally, we're getting back to canon—kinda.

Oh, btw, I want to say that I loathe canon Kisame's "fused" form. It is so damned ugly. So, personally, I headcanon him as looking identical to Zamtrios from Monster Hunter. Why do I mention this? No reason, no reason at all. cough cough wink wink.

p.s. no beta, too lazy to edit. Please excuse any jank.

Warning(s): Death (High), Violence (High), Blood/Gore (High), Mentions of Slavery (High), Genderbend (Mid), Language (Mid), Out of Character

…

Wasteland

The Akatsuki Arc

Chapter 66

Kisame and Jūzō didn't just "survive" the Colosseum; they dominated it. It wasn't a challenging undertaking when your competition was too frail to fight or didn't know how to defend themselves properly. It mattered not, however. Kisame and Jūzō agreed it wasn't just about winning but mercy, too. Those they faced in one-on-one combat were killed in seconds, primarily through decapitation or other means of instant death.

In their "free" time, they laboured over their temporary weapons to ensure no more incidents like with Shingo. They reweighed them by stealthily scrapping other weapons in the armoury and sharpening the blades against the walls. While they were nothing like Samehada or Kubikiribōchō, they felt like real swords now. Jūzō even nicknamed his own as the "Chromer". He was so proud of that pun, too.

As Schism said, every day, new "contestants" entered the Colosseum. Most "retired" slaves, while others had outstanding debts they failed to pay. Some tried to get let out by begging or bribery, but it did them no good. Most were dead by the next day, anyway. While Kisame and Jūzō may be hard-boiled after a life of do-or-die, the swordsmen still felt bad for them. However, they didn't let that get in the way of their end goal. Once they finished with the Overseer and Black Mark, there'd be no Colosseum either.

So, they kept to themselves, just training and waiting. Schism left them alone for the most part if he wasn't congratulating them on their wins that day. He even told them they had become so popular with the fans that they'd been christened the "Shark Duo". They didn't care, though. It wasn't for the glory. They were waiting for the Overseer to take notice or show up finally.

Kisame remembered what Shingo said about the leader being "not human". So, before or after his matches, he'd search the crowd for a being not very human. He had no idea what he was looking for, though. Was the Overseer a ningyo like him? A Tanuki? Kitsune? No idea. He finally saw Sasori again—or "Sasori"—the redheaded man spent his days in bleachers getting blitzed off cheap beer. All while Kisame and Jūzō fought for their lives. Once Kisame saw Sasori again—the real Sasori—he had a lot of not-so-nice things to say about "Sasori".

Finally, after five days of sleeping on the ground, eating slop with mystery meat (that may or may not be human), and using the bathroom in a bucket—Kisame and Jūzō got their opportunity.

It started as every other day, with Schism waking them up at the buttcrack of dawn to the sounds of death threats and violence. Not empty threats either. One dumb bastard had thought himself smart not to listen to the instructions. They didn't call Schism the "Butcher" for nothing. So, when they were told to go up, Kisame and Jūzō did so, only to be stopped this time by Schism himself.

"Da Overseer has taken an interest in yous," He told them, grinning. His golden eye twitched grimly in its bleached socket between them. "Give him a show, ey?" Once he let them pass, the Akatsuki members exchanged knowing glances.

In the armoury, Schism quoted what the swordsmen had heard over and over now, so they weren't paying much mind. That is until Schism went to split them all into two groups. Instead of putting Kisame and Jūzō together as he did every time before, he jammed his hands between them and deliberately pushed them apart.

Blinking, the ex-Kiri nin looked at each other. They had prepared themselves for this very outcome yet were still dumbstruck. Schism said nothing, just smirking. He didn't have to say a thing, though, as his intentions were loud and clear. He then sent them up the Colosseum.

As the matches continued, Kisame and Jūzō anxiously waited for their inevitable duel. Their anxiety was not negative, however. Finally, after the third fight finished, Schism gazed at the two men, signalling them to prepare themselves. So, they went down to the armoury to grab their personalized swords, smuggled underneath the metal-plated floor so no one else could use them. However, it wasn't as if anyone could wield them, but the swordsmen, as they had been specifically built, utilized weight and counterbalance close to that of their mythical blades.

"Looks like this is it, bro. Which one of us is gonna fight that Overseer dude?" Jūzō queried, coolly slinging Chromer over his shoulder as if the sixty-pound sword was made of paper mâché. "Too bad this couldn't be between Sammie and Kurouchi, man."

Kisame grabbed his sword—it didn't have a nifty name like Jūzō's—and laid it on his shoulder, too. "Too bad, man. We'll just have to make up for that later."

Jūzō grinned. "May the best man win, man." He extended his hand out for a friendly shake, which Kisame accepted. Then, they went their separate ways back up to the Colosseum.

"Ladies an' Gentleman! We have a special match fo' yous today! A fight to da death between da Shark Duo!" Schism broadcasted through his megaphone to zealous huzzahing from the drunken audience. "Open da gates!" The gates screeched open, and Kisame and Jūzō entered the stadium to the uproarious crowd. In any other situation, it may have been complimentary. But here, it was not. As the fans cared not for who won or lost, just the bloodbath.

Once Schism was safely in his lawn chair and had his second beer, did he give the green light? "Fight!"

Kisame and Jūzō didn't immediately go in, swords swinging. It wasn't that they didn't want to fight; they were studying each other. It had been a long time since last they had a sword fight. Not since Kisame was a guppy when he trained his swordsmanship with Jūzō. But it was nothing like this. Again, it was a pity this fight couldn't be done with Samehada and Kubikiribōchō. So, the moderators watching the match didn't think of them as refusing to fight; Jūzō was first to move.

He leapt towards Kisame and easily cleared the space between them with fluidity. Kisame lifted his sword to shield himself as Juzo's blade struck it with a thunderous clash of metal and a blitz of white-hot sparks, creating a mesmerizing spectacle for the onlookers. He swung to parry, but Jūzō showcased his agility, dodging with a finesse that defied his weapon's massive size and leaving Kisame slashing at empty air. Between them, Jūzō had the dexterity while Kisame relied on raw strength.

Jūzō charged again, and he and Kisame exchanged powerful blows, the force behind each blow sending shockwaves through the ground and the deafening crash of metal on metal backed by the boisterous crowd. Sweat dripped down their faces as they exerted every ounce of strength in this fierce contest of skill and strength. During the flurry, the low-grade metal of their swords presented itself, cracking and splintering off; the shards glimmered in the sunlight like confetti. Kisame noticed this and didn't want his sword to break. So, once he had an opening, he kicked Jūzō back to create distance between them. Jūzō either failed to see the cracks in his blade or was too in the moment. Likely the latter.

Jūzō attacked again with ferocity, and Kisame held his ground, expertly deflecting each blow while the audience watched in awe of the clash between the two swordsmen. However, as the relentless barrage dragged on, Kisame began to lose stamina, and his defensive tactics led to the spiderwebbing of the hairline fractures throughout his blade. It would break if he didn't do something, and he would lose this fight.

So, as Jūzō laid into him, Kisame seized an opportune moment to deliver a swift and well-timed parry. His greatsword struck Chromer, perfectly nailing a weak portion of the opponent's weapon. Jūzō's homemade sword became unfastened from its hilt, and the blade flew briefly through the air before hitting the ground with a bombastic bang and plume of dust. There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

Blinking, Jūzō looked at the empty sheath in his hand. He then looked at Kisame, who was equally as dumbfounded as he. Once the confusion passed by, though, in a blur of motion, Kisame slashed Jūzō. Gasping, the other swordsman dropped his hilt and grappled at his bare chest, now gushing blood from the clean slice expanding from his shoulder down to his belly button. It was a superficial cut, however. Kisame knew this, and Jūzō knew this, but no one else did. They didn't have to know either.

So, in overdramatic fashion—very overdramatic fashion—Jūzō threw himself on the ground, kicking and thrashing for a moment, blood everywhere. He then spread himself out like a starfish and "died", eyes rolled back and tongue out. There was a dead silence, and for a moment, Kisame questioned if Jūzō overdid it, and everyone knew he was faking. But then, the audience erupted in cheers and clapping, having witnessed the ultimate display of triumph.

Schism leapt out of his chair and lifted Kisame's arm into the air. "We have a winna!"

Seconds later, two cleaners grabbed Jūzō to drag him off to the Slaughterhouse. Once his standing ovation was over and he could leave, Kisame immediately galloped for the Hole. There, he found Jūzō, neatly laid out over the pile of bodies from that day and yesterday—and the day before, too. Maybe the entire week.

"Psst, Jūzō!" Kisame whispered from around the corner. Jūzō peeked open an eye to check if the coast was clear.

Unfortunately, it was not as footsteps echoed towards them. Jūzō quickly returned to playing dead while Kisame straightened up to greet the person. It was Schism.

"Hello. I just came to congratulate you again fo' yo victory, my friend," Schism said to Kisame and gave the ningyo a friendly clap on the arm. He then glimpsed past Kisame at Jūzō with a sympathetic look. "Sorry 'bout yo friend."

Kisame awkwardly shrugged. "Thanks…"

"Anyway! I came to tell you that da Overseer wants to fight you!"

Kisame feigned surprise and ignorance. "Me?"

Schism grinned and nodded, the raw, pink muscles in his face and neck limbering grotesquely. "Yes! Tomorrow! It is an honour. You are da only other person to ever fight him. Expert fo' me, dat is."

"Oh. What do I win when I beat him?"

Schism chuckled and waggled a finger at Kisame. "If you beat him, my friend. Fo' dat, I do not know. Maybe he'll make ya another butcha'. Like me!" He delivered a punch to Kisame's arm with a bark of laughter, laughter the blue-skinned man nervously parroted. "Tomorrow, my friend. Rest up! Oh. An' just in case: wut would ya like to be as yo last meal?"

"Umm…steak? T-bone. Rare."

"T-bone Steak it is! I'll let our chef know!" This place had a chef? News to Kisame. He just thought they got all their "food" out of the gutter. "Tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow." Kisame gave a confirming nod and waved as a jovial Schism strolled off, excitedly talking to himself about ticket sales.

"Is he gone?" Jūzō whispered out of the side of his mouth a few seconds later.

"Yeah, he's gone, bro."

"Phew!" Jūzō sat up, swatting at obnoxious flies buzzing around him. "'Bout time that Overseer dude finally challenged one of us, man."

"Yeah," Kisame turned and stared guiltily at Jūzō while itching the back of his head. "Sorry about that, man. Had to make it look real, y'know?" He said, obviously referencing the bloody slash across his partner's abdomen.

Jūzō waved him off. "It's cool, bro. Just another scar for the collection. If chicks ask, I'mma say I got it from one of them samurai from the Land of Iron!" Jūzō pointed two thumbs up at himself with a dumb grin.

"In the meantime, you gotta get outta here, man. See if ya can't find that Sasori bastard an' rendezvous with him."

"Don't gotta tell me twice, dude. I'm tired of this fuckin' place," Jūzō leapt out of the Hole and walked past Kisame, intending to find an exit. However, he stopped to face the other swordsmen. "Listen, man. I ain't got no doubt you're gonna like, cream that Overseer dude, but be careful, bro. That thing Shingo told us 'bout him, just got me a lil' nervous, y'know?"

Kisame nodded to confirm. "Yeah, I know. I still don't know what he meant about the Overseer not bein' human or transformin', but guess we'll find out, hmm? I should be fine, though. So long as he ain't a Jinchuuriki or nothin'." Jūzō giggled at the joke before skulking off in case Schism came back and realized he wasn't dead or in the process of dying. In the meantime, Kisame went back to the armoury to fix his sword since he was finished fighting for the day.

That night, he was served the driest, most burnt steak of his life, and it only gave him more reason to burn this hellhole down. It wasn't even a T-bone, either. Or a steak.

…

"Ladies an' Gentleman, citizens o' Yamigakure! We have a special match fo' yous today! A fight to end all fights!" Schism announced into the microphone.

Kisame patiently waited behind the gate to enter and looked out at the crowd. It was bustling today, not a single empty seat as news of a fight with the Overseer led to tickets being sold out in hours. There were even freeloaders who had climbed the chain-link fence around the Colosseum and were seated precariously on the razor wiring to get a glimpse of the match. Amidst the attendees, Kisame saw Sasori, looking like he was halfway through a six-pack of beer despite it being morning. Next to him was a cloaked figure. Though, it was obvious who it was.

"Yo have paid fo' it, an' dis combatant has bled fo' it—a fight against da Overseer!" The audience roared with excitement. "But who, you might ask, could possibly be brave enough to face our fearless leader? Who thinks he can survive against da Overseer? People o' Yamigakure, I give you our latest champion, a warrior of skill, strength, an' determination! Behold!"

The gate went up and Kisame stepped into the arena with his sword resting on his shoulder much thunderous adulation from the inebriated crowd. He walked into the centre and stopped. Schism grinned at him and bobbed his head in greeting before going back to his announcing.

"Ladies an' Gentleman, citizens o' Yamigakure! Now it is da moment you'll all been waitin' fo'! Put yo hands an' yo voices together fo' our benevolent an' gracious leader—da Overseer!" Loud, vulgar hip-hop music blasted from the speaker system set up around the Colosseum while fiery pyrotechnics blasted off, cloaking the arena in grey smoke and the smell of gunpowder. Kisame was a little jealous he didn't get such a dramatic entry, too.

Finally, through the fire and smoke, emerged a figure, the Overseer himself; a dark-skinned man robed in an oversized yet expensive fur coat, his baggy jeans sagging to his knees and exposing his silk, black boxers and decked out head to toe in tasteless gold chains and diamond jewellery including a heavy, gold necklace that hung low with a bizarre bone-like pendent. Even his bald head was outfitted with golden chains fashioned into corn rows. Funny to say, but he was exactly as Kisame envisioned him, yet not? Because, from what the ningyo could see, he was human.

The Overseer grabbed the microphone from Schism. "Hell-o Yamigakure! Wat it do? Lemme hear ya make some noise!" He yelled into the microphone and flashed hand signs at the onlookers, causing the crowd to go wild, chanting his name and exuberantly rocking in their seats until the bleachers themselves swayed disconcertingly. They got so loud that they drowned out the blaring music.

He then looked at Kisame and grinned, exhibiting his golden grills bedazzled with real diamonds. He approached the Akatsuki, extending his free hand for a shake. Kisame accepted it, though grimaced a little as the other man's overexaggerated rings pinched him.

"Nice to finally meet ya, dog." The Overseer said, though Kisame was having difficulty hearing him over the screaming audience. "Gotta say, that last fight was fire, homie. Don't disappoint me now, ya dig? Keep it trill." Kisame nodded to indicate that he did indeed "dig". However, he didn't know what it meant to "keep it trill".

Satisfied, the Overseer walked off. "Yo, yo, yo, pay attention, y'all. And listen real' closely how I break this shit down. Mofo here has five minutes to either survive the 187 or kick my ass!" The audience erupted into uproarious laughter as if he told the funniest joke ever. "Put five minutes on the clock, word!"

The jumbotrons installed over the north and south gate flickered to life, reading in white, neon numbers on a black background: 5:00

"Lessgo!" The Overseer dropped the microphone to the ground before turning and taking position on the opposite side of the arena. Kisame took his position, too. The crowd's excitement was roaring, and the music had to be turned up so loud that the Colosseum itself was quaking. Kisame just knew he was going to have a migraine later on.

Schism picked up the microphone again. "Behold as dese two meet in da fightin' pit for an epic battle worthy of song! Combatants... begin!" The music transitioned from hip-hop to a heavy metal drum solo that shook the stadium to its very foundation with its intense bass.

With his sword erected, Kisame took an offensive position and waited for the other man to make the first move. He was confused, however, when the Overseer extracted a kunai from his belt. Using the knife, he grazed it against the bone of his necklace, causing it to flake off into a white, powdery substance onto the back of his free hand. Kisame didn't know what he was doing. And if he wasn't confused enough, he was utterly dumbfounded when the Overseer snorted the powder, head snapping back like he had inhaled smelling salts. Kisame could only liken what happened next to a scene from a body horror movie.

The Overseer's muscles rippled and bulged, ballooning underneath bronze skin that oxidized dark red and then blackened, his fur coat replicating a thick, coarse pelt. He fell to his knees, his fingers digging into metal as his spine arched violently, each vertebra popping off like gunshots as it reshaped itself to accommodate a new, monstrous form. If not for his clothing being too large, they would have been shredded by the strength of his transformation. His face was last to change. His nose and mouth extended forward, merging into a snout and nose flattening around his bulky, golden septum piercing. Lips disappeared in favour of an eerie, straight-toothed smile. His eyes, once human, faded into circular, empty white orbs. Lastly, black flesh skin split open on his skull, and two bony protrusions started to emerge, pushing through inch by inch. The appendages continued growing, curving outward and inward in a graceful arc. The bones took on a distinct texture, striated and rugged like a majestic stag yet bowed like that of a mighty bull. The transformation was both grotesque and awe-inspiring. The Overseer straighten up, dwarfing Kisame in his shadow. He was no longer entirely human but something demonic and powerful. He was—

"God damnit," Sasori cursed to himself, ignoring Jūzō's frantic and bewildered glances between him and the scene unfolding. "He's a fuckin' Jinchuuriki."

With a deep inhale, the Overseer let out a thunderous bellow that sundered the sky and sent the Colosseum into hysterics. Hot and angry chakra washed over Kisame, burning the oxygen itself, leaving the ningyo gasping for air like a fish out of water—pun intended. He could smell it, a metallic yet fishy scent—the chakra of the Hachibi. Yet, something wasn't right about it. It felt…fake.

"Five minutes on da clock!" Schism announced, pointing at one of the jumbotrons with his beer. "An' da time starts…now!" The fluorescent numbers on the large-screen televisions began counting down, second by second.

Kisame barely had a moment to gather himself before the Overseer was charging at him, head down to gore with his large horns. Thankfully, although the minotaur was bigger and meaner, the swordsman easily dodged since he wasn't faster. The Overseer barreled past, missing the Kisame by mere inches. His momentum carried him to the other side of the arena. He skidded to a stop and quickly turned, shaking his head in frustration and smoke billowing from his nostrils. He charged again at Kisame with a roar, his feet thundering against the metal grating.

Again, Kisame passed by, narrowly avoiding his lethal horns and his great sword flashing to slice at the bull's flank. The blade sizzled as it passed through the Overseer's "flesh" but left no apparent wound nor spilt blood; it was an endoskeleton of pure chakra. Kisame realized his best and only opportunity would be striking the Overseer in vital points where the chakra cloak was weakest.

4:30

Kisame leapt backwards to make distance. He feinted left, then struck right, thrusting his sword at the Overseer's chest towards his heart. The Overseer deflected the attack by backhanding the weapon, the force of it sending the ningyo backpedaling a single step. The Jinchuuriki bore down on him, his head thrashing and horns slashing with deadly precision. Kisame parried and dodged them, the ferocious strength of each blow sending him sliding backwards towards the spiked walls of the stage. He tried pushing back, but the Overseer pressed on, leaving little to no room to breathe. At this rate, he would be impaled on the spikes or by the minotaur's horns.

A decision that was not his to make as the Overseer delivered a crushing blow onto the swordsman's sword, shattering it in his hands. The Overseer's white eyes gleamed with triumph as he lowered his head and rammed his horns right through Kisame's chest in an explosion of blood.

"Kisame!" Juzo's urgent screaming from the sidelines was overpowered by the resounding cheers and chants of the enthusiastic crowd.

3:30

The Overseer lifted Kisame up, drenching his horns in red as the Akatsuki member sank down onto them. Then, with a flick of his head, the Overseer sent the ningyo tumbling across the ground, leaving a stark trail of blood in his wake. Dazed and bleeding, Kisame stared up at the bullman's towering figure.

"Ya lasted longer than I expected," The Overseer said, his unsettling grin stretching across his broad muzzle. "Too bad, dog. I was rootin' for ya. I'll make it quick, ya hear? Sorry for this, homie." His eyes glinting with malevolent glee, he bowed his head to deliver the killing blow. Unbeknownst to him, Kisame was down but not out.

"Yeah…sorry for this too…homie," Suddenly, Kisame too started to undergo a transformation while the crowd watched on in rapt silence.

His muscles rippled and expanded as he quadrupled in size. His flesh hardened, taking on a scaly texture, the colour shifting from a light blue to a deep, oceanic blue. His limbs elongated, and fingers and toes fused into webbed fins. From his spine jutted a large dorsal fin that sliced through the air. His jaws elongated into a menacing grin, lined with rows of razor-sharp fangs. His eyes glowed a ghostly white with a cold, predatory gaze. Finally, a tail sprouted from his lower back, its broad, fin-like shape completing his transformation. He fell to all fours, and the shift in posture felt familiar and correct, unlike the two-legged walk of homosapiens.

Kisame poised onto his powerful hindlegs, easily dwarfing the Overseer and unleashed a high-pitched roar, saliva raining down over the stadium. The crowd erupted in applause, breaking the tension. Jūzō sighed, falling back to his seat while Sasori chuckled.

"So, that's what a mermaid really looks like, ey?" He sipped his beer, blissfully ignorant to Jūzō's dirty looks for his casual slur use.

3:00

The Overseer stepped back, staring at the formidable hybrid of ningyo and shark. However, he wasn't going to let this little setback intimidate him. His bleached eyes stared down Kisame as he pawed the ground to charge. Kisame lowered himself onto all fours, claws scrapping against metal and his tail swishing back and forth in anticipation. With a deafening roar, the Jinchuuriki lunged forward, his hooves pounding the ground and lowering his massive horns in a show of brute strength. The ningyo echoed with a guttural growl, launching himself to meet the beast head-on. They collided with a force that shook the arena.

Kisame caught the Overseer's horns, bringing his charge to a dead stop. Enraged, the Overseer swung his massive arm, aiming to grab the sharkman. They grappled; each beast's strength pitted against the other in the fierce struggle. Kisame snapped his jaws dangerously close to the Overseer's face, but the demon pushed back, forcing the ningyo to release his grip.

The Overseer tried to use his demonic strength to overpower his opponent, but Kisame outmatched him, not only in size but power, too. With a burst of might, Kisame sent the Overseer flying across the battleground, where he was cleanly impaled onto the rusted spikes of the chain link wall. Kisame grinned, his gills flaring. However, his victory was temporary as the Overseer dislodged himself from the nails, his breaths ragged and laboured where one had pierced a lung. But, like magic, the wounds instantly healed due to the chakra shroud. Kisame pupilless eyes glared at the minotaur; teeth bared in an unhappy snarl.

2:00

Undeterred, the Overseer quickly regained his footing and circled the ningyo, searching for an opening. Once he found it, he charged again, eyes blazing with rage as he aimed to maim Kisame with his horns. The shark monster sidestepped with surprising agility; his race's aquatic grace translated nicely into land-based combat. He countered with a swiping motion of his tail, catching the Overseer's legs and sending him stumbling. Seizing the opportunity, the shark lunged to sink his razor-sharp teeth into the bullman's neck. Unfortunately, all he ended up with was a mouthful of fur as the leader's lavish fur coat got caught in his canines.

As he desperately tried freeing the jacket from his teeth, the Overseer leapt onto Kisame's back. Kisame roared, thrashing wildly to buck off the minotaur, but the Overseer used his sail to anchor himself. The Overseer then attempted to trample the ningyo, stamping his hooves with lethal force, but it barely bruised Kisame, his body built for resilience. Finally, Kisame threw the other man off, and the Overseer landed gracefully on the opposite side of the arena. While winded, both still had the stamina to fight.

1:00

Schism nervously glanced at the clock. It was a stalemate; neither side backed down, and only a minute remained. The crowd's reaction was at a fever pitch, a volatile mix of intoxication and sheer adrenaline. The Overseer, noticing his butcher's anxiety, realized he had to end this and end this now. He wasn't going to let an inhuman humiliate him!

Suddenly, the atmosphere became supercharged with positive and negative chakra. The Overseer opened his maw as a small sphere of pure chakra shaped itself between his straight teeth.

0:30

Sasori flew out of his seat, crushing his beer can in his prosthetic hand. "God damn it! That bastard is gonna kill us all!" Jūzō got up, too, searching for an exit in case they had to run for safety. No one else shared their alarm, sitting at the edge of their seats to get a better view, their faces lit by a mixture of awe and the purplish glow from the ball of chakra.

Kisame yawned out his jaws too, mimicking the Jinchuuriki as a bubbling water ball shaped itself.

0:10…

0:09…

0:08…

0:07…

0:06…

The Overseer unleashed a blinding, searing beam of chakra while Kisame spewed a stream of concentrated water. Each beam sliced through the air with a high-pitched whine, and as they collided, there was a flash of light brighter than the sun itself and a fiery explosion. Everyone squeezed their eyes shut to avoid being blinded by the brilliant light show and hunkered down in their seats from the destructive backblast. Windows, miles away, shattered from the devastating impact, and bystanders were knocked off their feet. The air was electrified with the smell of burning chakra and debris.

0:05…

0:04…

0:03…

0:02…

0:01…

As the smoke cleared, the Overseer stood tall and proud, expecting to see nothing left of his opponent. However, in the dust was a silhouette. Kisame's body was smouldering, and patches of his scales burned away, exposing raw muscle underneath. He had survived. Only because the Overseer had miscalculated the positive and negative chakra ratio with the blast, confirming the ningyo's theory he was no real Jinchuuriki. The aftermath left the crowd and the Overseer in a state of muted shock.

0:00

An air horn blasted to signify the end of the match. Kisame had won.

It was then the Overseer body shuddered violently, and a spectral smoke began to emanate from his body. The smoke seeped from his mouth and nostrils, enveloping him in a dense, swirling cloud. It lasted a few seconds before dissipating in the wind, revealing the Overseer as human again. He looked over himself as if surprised to be transformed back.

Schism leapt out of his chair. "Ladies an' gentlemen!" He bellowed into the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers. "We have a winna!" The crowd erupted into cheers and applause in response. The Overseer grinned, feeding off their energy despite losing.

He then looked over Kisame's mammoth shark-like form, standing over him. "Congratulations, dog. No hard feelin's, aight?" He asked, his voice barely audible over the thunderous applause and cheers that filled the stadium.

Kisame remained silent, his piercing white eyes fixed on the man in front of him. Interpreting his silence as a sign of agreement, the Overseer confidently turned to address the eagerly awaiting crowd. It was then, with his back turned that Kisame lunged, clamping his teeth onto their target with bone-crushing force.

The Overseer screamed in pain and terror from inside Kisame's massive maw, his legs kicking in a futile attempt to escape. Kisame's jaws snapped shut with devastating finality, silencing the man forever as he was cleanly bitten in half; bright red, arterial blood streamed over his gums and down his jaw. He spat out the two halves of his body in disgust, the upper half still momentarily conscious, a look of shock and disbelief eternally frozen on the Overseer's once smug face.

The crowd and Schism stared on in dead silence, their faces pale with shock and horror at what had just unfolded to their precious leader. Then, the stadium erupted into a vociferous roar of disgruntled fans; hundreds of voices merged into a singular, frenzied wave of anger that echoed off the concrete and steel. A few fans threw objects at Kisame—bottles, trash, anything they could get their hands on. It wasn't until they started clambering over their seats like a tidal wave of human bodies towards the arena that Sasori and Jūzō finally jumped into action.

Taking his empty beer, Sasori smashed it over one man's head and used the broken bottle to slash the throat of another. Jūzō leapt over the seats and cascading bodies to launch himself onto Kisame's back. He whistled at Sasori, who was busy as he sliced and diced through the angry crowd with his arm blade.

"Yo! Give me Kurouchi!" With a single flick of his finger, the scroll on Sasori's back flew out and with a pop of white smoke, Kubikiribōchō was sent precariously spinning towards its master. Jūzō easily caught it by the hilt and casually slung the massive sword over his shoulder with a smirk. He patted Kisame on his dorsal fin. "Let's make good on our promise, bro." Kisame reared back and let out an ear-splitting roar. He charged forward, slamming his monstrous body into the gate to break through, causing a few people to fall into the stadium and be crushed underfoot.

Meanwhile, a blood-soaked Sasori had made it into the stadium. Walking over to the Overseer's body, he yanked the dead man's gold necklace off, observing the bone-like ornament in the sunlight with a curious eye.

"Hey!" Sasori quirked an eyebrow as he observed Schism staggering towards him. "D-Dat ain't yours!"

After a brief pause, Sasori's lips curled into a smile. "Oh, my bad, mate. I was just lookin'. Here ya go." He generously extended the necklace out towards the man.

However, as Schism approached to take it, Sasori's right arm began to shift and transform. Wooden plates slid apart with a mechanical whirr, revealing an intricate system of gears and mechanisms underneath. His fingers retracted and fused together, reshaping into a solid barrel. The gun-like weapon fired a blast of chakra, blowing Schism's ugly head apart in a bloody spray of brain matter and skull fragments. The butcher's headless body stumbled back a few steps before falling backwards to the ground with a gruesome splat.

Grinning, Sasori pocketed the necklace and walked off to find Kisame and Jūzō, following the trail of destruction and bloodshed left in their wake.

Mission completed: eliminate the Overseer.

…

Orochimaru sighed wearily as she walked down the hallway, her exasperated exhaling echoed by the click of her heels on the polished hardwood floor. She meticulously searched through the entire bathhouse but found nothing on the identity of Mistress nor any clue to her whereabouts. It was frustrating. Never before had Orochimaru encountered such a challenge in gathering information, which said something considering who she was. She could only hope Konan and Gine were having better luck. Speaking of which, Orochimaru finally had a moment to herself to see the other two women in person. It struck her as odd that they had not updated her today. So, she walked to their bedroom to find them.

Once there, she knocked on the paper door with no answer. It was the middle of the day, so perhaps they were off working, Orochimaru concluded. So, she decided to leave them a message. As she took Yuvon off her ear, she noticed a glimmer of gold on the hallway floor. It was Yuld.

"Oh Yuld," She picked up the small golden snake, which had comically large tears falling from its beady black eyes. "Oh Yuld, dear. What happened? Tell your lady." She lifted it to her ear to listen. Between broken sobs, Yuld revealed that Konan and Gine had been kidnapped.

Orochimaru's purple lips downturned into a frown. "Taken?"

"What has been taken, Mother Mana?"

Instantly, Orochimaru turned to see a smiling Sora standing behind her. "Oh, Sora, darling. I just lost my earring and feared someone may've taken it, but I found it." She showed the male geisha the inconspicuous golden snake earring before putting on. She could still hear Yuld's sad little sniffles in her ear. "Say, Sora, dear. You wouldn't happen to know where Chihiro and Rin are, do you?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not,"

Orochimaru masked her suspicion with a polite smile and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Pity that."

"I've been looking for you, though, Mother Mana,"

"Me?"

Sora nodded, his smile extending to his eyes, which curved into half-moons. "Yes. The Mistress is here and wishes to speak with you," Immediately, red flags were waving in Orochimaru's mind.

First, Konan and Gine were missing, and now the Mistress suddenly was here and wanted to talk to Orochimaru? This was no coincidence. However, this was her best bet to learn who this "Mistress" was and find Konan and Gine.

So, she put on her best performance, feigning excitement as she clapped her hands together. "Oh, brilliant! I'd love to meet her finally." Nodding, Sora turned and started to walk with Orochimaru at his heels.

He led her upstairs, to the floor Orochimaru had earlier confirmed the Mistress' office, empty until now. Sora politely knocked on the wooden door and opened it after receiving confirmation from within. Holding it open courteously, he gestured for Orochimaru to enter first. With caution, she did so.

Inside was a luxurious office and library combination with elegant décor and wood panelling. It was backlit by the warm, orange glow of a fireplace. Over the fireplace was the same portrait of the Mistress as the one at the entrance of the bathhouse. One wall was lined with bookshelves filled with old and new books, while the other was made of large windows that overlooked Yugakure. In the centre was a large, wooden desk with a lamp with a green shade yet barren of any writing material such as paper or pens. The chair positioned behind the desk was facing away, obscuring the person sitting in it.

Orochimaru delivered a leer at Sora who was standing behind her. He just kept on smiling and nodded at her. She walked nearer. "You asked me for, Mistress?" Finally, the chair turned around, and Orochimaru openly laughed at the person seated. "Oh my, aren't you a little too…masculine to be a mistress?"

The bald man with an eyepatch and black cloak in the chair smiled at her, propping his elbow on his desk and resting his cheek against his fist. "And I don't remember Mother Mana being a naga," Orochimaru's hilarity dried up, as did her smile. "I am correct, though, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," She saw no use in playing coy now that the jig was up.

"And am I correct that the presence of a naga is a once-in-a-millennium event and foregoes the End Times?"

"My my, that's a naughty, wee stigma, inn't? And who are you to be asking me such questions, Mistress?"

The "Mistress" smiled, baring his black, crowned canines. "A person with a personal interest in the end of the world," He lifted the eyepatch over his right eye, revealing a bright white eye encircled by a dark red scar shaped like a circle with an upside-down triangle inside it. "Are you familiar with Jashin?"

"Oh, I've heard the name once or twice," Orochimaru uttered vaguely and nonchalantly waved a hand in front of her powdered face. "Though reckoned him just to be a boogieman thought up by the minds of religious bumpkins. Again, who is asking?"

He set a hand on his chest. "Oh, how rude of me. My name is Balthazar. I am the high priest of Jashin."

"Balthazar? That's an Old World name," Balthazar nodded to confirm. "Who is she then?" Orochimaru pointed at the ornate framed picture of the "Mistress."

"My grandmother," He smiled fondly at the old photograph. "She, too, was a Jashinist and high priest before my mother and my mother before me. My lineage has been loyal servants to Jashin since ancient times. We've also operated this bathhouse for three generations,"

"Oh my, very interesting," Orochimaru despite being not at all interested. She was more fixated on her chipped purple nail polish. "And why are you telling me all this?"

"As I said, it is rumoured that the appearance of a naga foretells the End Times. In Jashinism, when the End Times come, Jashin himself shall leave Hell to destroy this stupid hedonistic Utopia and in its place, leave a world of fear and treachery and torment." Baltazar's face twisted into a psychotic smile as he quoted the Jashinist's Bible from memory. "So, Jashin must have sent you here for that reason; sent you to me." So that's why he was talking to her instead of killing her. Or whatever he did with Konan and Gine.

"Jashin is a fan of inhumans then, is he?" Orochimaru's targeted gaze landed on Sora as she said this, causing the male geisha to appear visibly offended. "Don't play innocent, tanuki. I smelt your stink the moment I stepped into this place."

"And I smelt you, naga." Sora's face shift, briefly revealing his true, raccoon form before returning to its human appearance.

"Sora has been the greatest donor to Jashin," Balthazar spoke up to defend his yokai friend. "He has kindly rented out the bathhouse to our organization for a share of profit and has maintained it, too."

"So, this bathhouse is just a front for your wee cult?"

His expression darkened at the mention of the word "cult" in reference to his religion. "Yes. We use the money to fund our interests. Also, to recycle the geishas that are no longer profitable for the bathhouse for their blood and bodies,"

"Or that ask too many questions," Sora chimed in, giggling to himself.

"Is that what happened to my girls, then? You recycled them?" Orochimaru inquired, still embodying her 'mother' persona despite Konan and Gine being no such thing to her. That didn't mean she wished for them to be "recycled". Yahiko would be none too pleased if he heard that.

Balthazar nodded. "Yes. Fear not. My associates have not picked them up, so they're still on the grounds. I'm open to an exchange for them, though."

She lifted a pencilled eyebrow. "And exchange? For what, may I ask."

He leant forward over his desk. "Your oath to the God of Death, Jashin, in exchange for their useless lives."

Orochimaru couldn't help herself as she burst into laughter, much to the displeasure of both Balthazar and Sora. "Oh, my apologies, dear. But I'm twee mixed up with another God—a real God. In fact, the God that gifted your wee God his complex."

Immediately, the offended Jashinist stood up, punching his fists onto his desk at the slight towards his God. "Bullshit! Jashin is the one true God! He answers to no one!"

Orochimaru smirked. "Oh, but he does. And not only that, your 'End Times' are in motion without him. He was nothing but a pawn and shall be forgotten again as he was a millennium ago. I reckon you don't even know his real name, do you? Not a surprise since his own God doesn't either." Balthazar's mutilated face twisted with malice.

All of a sudden, he lunged over the desk at Orochimaru, brandishing a dagger. As the man's arm swung forward, she caught his wrist in a vice-like grip, her strength underestimated by her feminine appearance. The knife was stopped with only the tip knicking her white face, drawing a single droplet of blood.

"Oh my, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that," She teased, her voice unruffled from the failed assassination. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the sacrificial blade falling noisily to the ground. Her serpentine eyes, cold and calculating, never left his. She held his wrist for a moment longer, allowing the reality of his failed attempt to sink in before freeing him.

Frustrated by his failure, Balthazar snarled and launched himself at the woman again, swinging another knife from his cloak. With a fluid motion, the Sannin effortlessly dodged the attack and drew a kunai. As he tried stabbing at her once more, she sidestepped and thrusted the knife into his scarred eye. He let out a blood-curdling scream, his hands flying to his face as he stumbled back, blood pouring down his face as he desperately grabbed at the kunai embedded deeply in his eye socket. To silence his screaming before the entire bathhouse heard him, Orochimaru delivered a swift strike to his throat, collapsing his airway instantly. He gasped, bloodied hands squeezing his throat, remaining eye wide with shock. He backed into the desk and crashed to the ground, writhing and struggling for breath.

Orochimaru towered over him, her gaze unyielding and cold. "To Helheim to join your 'God' in eternity. May your bones and blood nourish the Nidhogg come Ragnarök," She murmured, her voice devoid of pity. Within moments, his movements ceased, his head tilting to one side, features twisted in a grotesque mask of pain. The light faded from his eye until there was nothing left but the empty, hollow gaze of a lifeless corpse.

Meanwhile, Sora was frozen in fear in the corner of the office after observing the one-sided altercation. Orochimaru ignored him in favour of searching the study for any sign of Konan and Gine. However, in the middle of her hunt, did she hear a subtle noise.

Sighing, the Sannin laid her hands on her hips, but didn't turn towards the noise. Yet. "Silly me, thinking it'd be so easy." She said to the miraculously resurrected Balthazar behind her.

Balthazar chuckled wryly as he leveraged himself with his desk. "You…cannot kill me. Jashin…has blessed me…" With a swift and forceful motion, he ripped the bloodied knife from his head, hurling it back at Orochimaru. It clattered harmlessly to the floor beside her.

"Blessed you?"

"Yes! It was…his holy blood I drank…and through him…I have achieved… immortality!"

"Immortality? You're joshing me," Orochimaru finally turned to look at the Jashinist.

He smiled. "I am not. But I will be doing…is killing you!" Grabbing his first dagger, he licked the woman's blood from the blade. Then, using his own blood, he smeared it with his foot to draw the insignia of Jashin.

His pale skin rapidly darkened like a bruise until it was pitch black. As if the skin was thinning, a white outline of the bones underneath started to show through, beginning at the fingers spreading up his arms, with the radius and ulna too becoming visible. His eye sockets became dark hollows, and his nasal cavity and jawline were starkly traced in white, giving his face a hollow, skeletal appearance. Orochimaru just observed this transformation in genuine curiosity and enlightenment.

"Now, you die!" Balthazar exclaimed before plunging the sacrificial knife into his own stomach.

Orochimaru blinked, puzzled by what she witnessed, until she felt something warm and thick soaking through her kimono. Looking down, she saw blood staining her obi a deep crimson. Instinctively, she tried to apply pressure to the wound, fingers trembling and slick with blood. A sudden cough wracked her body, bringing with it a spurt of dark blood from her mouth.

Balthazar erupted with sadistic laughter. "As you get for doubting Jashin, you bitch! Everything else we shall destroy, everything!"

Another intense cough forced more blood from Orochimaru's mouth and splashed onto the ground. And another. Then, all of a sudden, she retched, and from her bleeding mouth a snake was violently ejected. The white boa hit the ground with a wet splat and writhed briefly before falling deathly still. It's underbelly was sundered open.

Orochimaru stared sadly at the dead snake. "Oh, my poor Gaaf. Your lady shall remember your sacrifice. Now," She cleaned the blood from his lips and straightened up. "What were you on about?"

Now Baltazar found himself in a state of bewilderment as he gazed at the snake and then turned his attention to Orochimaru. "H-How? You're supposed to be dead! Dead!"

"As you can see, I am not," She gestured to herself. Bloody, but alive. Getting blood out of her kimono was going to be such a bitch later. And that tear! Ugh.

Growling, Balthazar extracted the dagger, but Orochimaru used her natural elasticity to stretch her arm out and grab the knife before he could use it to stab himself again. She forcefully took it from his hand and firmly applied it to his throat instead. Despite the setback, the Jashinist grinned.

"If you do that, you'll just end up slitting your own throat,"

"That so?" Orochimaru asked, and he nodded, causing the blade to scrape the black flesh and bleed. The same cut spawned on the Akatsuki's neck, but she paid it no mind.

"So long as I am in this circle, there is nothing you can do to hurt me,"

"That so." Orochimaru's head tilted from side to side in contemplation as she observed the bloody circle. "So, if you weren't in this twee circle, you couldn't do your wee voodoo jutsu?"

"Well, I—" Before he could either confirm or deny, she lifted him up and threw him over her head.

He was sent flying across the office and crashed into a bookshelf. The shelving gave way and rained books down, hardcovers and paperbacks alike striking him. As Orochimaru suspected, she felt none of it. And furthermore, his skin lightened back into its natural, pale tone.

"Interesting," She said, tapping her fingernails against her lips.

Balthazar groaned, his body aching from the collision and the sharp edges of books digging into his skin. "You…bitch…"

Orochimaru laughed at his plight. "Don't tell me you're finished already, Mr. Immoral. My dear Sasori can last longer in bed than you can in a fight," Anger surged through him, wiping away the pain as adrenaline took over.

With a yell, Balthazar launched himself at Orochimaru, clearing the distance between them. He swung a wild haymaker, but she dodged, the fist whistling past her ear. She grabbed his arm and twisted it to throw him off balance. As he fell to the floor, his eye caught the shine of a knife next to her foot. Snatching it, he slammed his shoulder into her legs, causing her to let him go and backpedal so not to lose her balance. Instead of following up, he stumbled onto his feet and ran for his curse circle. Once back in its centre and before Orochimaru could interrupt him, Balthazar stabbed the blade into his skull to kill her once and for all.

He expected her to drop dead; he expected her to die! Instead, Orochimaru stood there, giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look like a parent to a misbehaving child. When he failed to figure it out, Orochimaru explained, or more like taunted him with the truth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. Did I sully your circle?" She asked with fake sympathy and pointed. Following the pathing for her finger, the man looked down with his good eye to find his ritual circle had been smudged.

When he shoulder-checked her, Orochimaru used the body of Gaaf to vandalize the circle by kicking him backwards across the floor. She hated treating one of her beloved snakes, dead or alive, in such a manner, but it had to be done. He had proven himself to be such a loyal snake in life and in death. With Baltazar's momentary vulnerability, Orochimaru decided now was the time to finish this. She had grown bored of this back and forth with this "Jashinist" and his "immortality".

Opening her mouth, a green snake extended itself from her throat. It yawned open its jaws and produced from them the handle of a sword. From it, she pulled out the uchigatana and swallowed the snake back down, wiping stray salvia from her lips. With grace, she delicately balanced the sword on the palm of her hand, directing it straight at Balthazar. Meanwhile, Balthazar desperately tried to remake his circle with the blood draining from his head, but it was too late.

With a flick of her wrist, the Kusanagi Sword flew towards him at blinding speed. He tried reflecting the blade with his knife, but the katana easily bypassed the kunai. In a blink, it sliced cleanly through the bald man's neck. There was a moment of stillness before Balthazar's head slid off his neck and hit the floor with a gruesome thud. His body collapsed, his empty neck spewing blood over the floor like a crimson tide.

Kusanagi returned to its master, and Orochimaru let out a tired sigh before swallowing it back down. "Finally. I—"

"You think you won!?"

Orochimaru's lips pressed into a thin line. She looked down to find Balthazar's head—yes, his decapitated head—glaring up at her, his white eyes burning like liquid nitrogen. Her eye started to twitch. He could not be serious.

"I am immortal, just as Jashin is! You think cutting off my head will kill me?" He openly mocked her.

"I was hoping it did!" She said in exasperation.

He laughed. "Fool! Idiot! Don't make me laugh!" He said, despite just laughing. "I am omnipotent! I am—"

"Yeah, yeah." The naga waved him off.

So, as Balthazar carried on about inflicting pain this and Jashin that Orochimaru ignored him in favour of looking around for something to kill the immortal—and she meant really kill him since cutting off his head did nothing. Well, outside of casting him into Helheim like his little God. She did notice his body wasn't moving. So, it couldn't function without a head, then? That's when she had an idea, a brilliant idea.

"Ours is founded upon hatred—Hey, what do you think you're doing!?" Balthazar barked as Orochimaru grabbed his head like one did a bowling ball, interrupting his narration of Jashin's Psalm. Orochimaru chose not to answer as she walked over to one of the office's bay windows and opened it, letting the pleasant arouma of sulfur inside.

"Tell me: do you know how to swim?" She finally inquired.

Balthazar frowned. "What are you—"

It was then Orochimaru held his head out through the open window, and he looked down. From the apex of his office, it was a long fall, three stories high. But it wasn't the fall he was worried about. Below the bathhouse, a natural hot spring bubbling and steamed, the largest in Yugakure. However, it wasn't open for public use since it was on private property. That's when it dawned on him.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry! P-Please! I—" But it was too little, too late.

Orochimaru relinquished her grasp, and Balthazar's head was sent falling and screaming all the way down. With each passing second, the howling grew quieter and quieter until there was a splash of water and then silence. She watched on in morbid curiosity as oxygen bubbles floated to the surface until they finally stopped several seconds later. Then, she closed the window and brushed her hands together.

"Phew, that was…something," She said to herself. She returned to looking for Konan and Gine and ended up finding them shortly after in a secret room behind a bookshelf, bound and gagged.

"Thank you," Konan thanked Orochimaru once freed, rubbing her wrists, raw from the ropes. She also wiped off the chakra seal inked on her stomach courtesy of a certain tanuki.

"You're welcome. And let's not forget our wee, tanuki friend here," Orochimaru case a knowing look at a particular brown vase she distinctly didn't remember being there before. It squeaked in fear, and Sora poofed back into being, having hidden himself during the fight between Orochimaru and Balthazar.

"You!" He let out a petrified, raccoon-like screech as an enraged Gine stomped towards him, eyes red with the Ketsuryūgan. However, Orochimaru intercepted her before the Chinoike could turn him inside out with her Kekkei Genkai.

"Now, now, Gine, dear. Let's not be hasty," Orochimaru chided her with a friendly smile, holding an arm out to bar her path.

"The fuck you mean 'hasty'!? He tried killing us!" Gine exclaimed angrily, pointing at the quivering tanuki.

"He drugged us," Konan clarified. The last thing she remembered was tasting Sora's sake sample before everything went dark and then waking up in that compartment.

"Yes, yes. But our friend here is a lot more valuable to the Akatsuki alive than dead," Orochimaru turned towards a trembling Sora. "Now, let's make a deal, shall we?"

"Y-Yes! Anything! Just please don't kill me!" Sora squeaked out, clapping his hands together in prayer. He didn't live to be five hundred years old only to be killed over a bad business deal.

"The deal is this: you keep running your little bathhouse. However, all profits are to go to the Akatsuki. Oh, and no more making deals with cultists,"

"No," Konan adamantly interrupted. "I don't want the Akatsuki to make a profit off the bodies and innocence of these women. It would make us no better than him," He pointed at Balthazar's dead body.

Orochimaru sighed in exasperation. She thought that a good compromise but not good enough, obviously. "Very well. What do you suggest, Konan, dear?" She laid her hands on her hips as she waited for the other woman to speak.

"This is to be converted into a bathhouse—a real bathhouse. No more sexual services. It's also large enough to double as a teahouse."

Orochimaru sighed again, rubbing her chin thoughtfully and smudging her white foundation. "I reckon that'll work," Though the loss of the brothel would seriously eat into profits. Maybe they could substitute it with an underground casino. Yes, that would do nicely. "Very well. This is now to be a real bathhouse and teahouse, too. Any objections?"

"And the girls keep their jobs and are paid livable wages," Gine inserted her two cents.

"I—very well," Orochimaru sighed once more in frustration. Make that an underground casino and bar. "Do you agree to these changes, Sora?" The naga fixed him with a venomous stare.

"Yes! A b-bathhouse a-and teahouse with l-livable wages a-and all profits goes to the Akatsuki!"

Orochimaru clapped her hands together, pleased with his cooperation. "Brilliant! We'll send someone to collect the cheque on the first of the month. Now, come, ladies. We're finished here, don't you agree?" Konan and Gine nodded in unison and three of them left Sora to manage the Akatsuki's new business venture—also clean up the corpse of his ex-employer.

Mission completed: eliminate the Mistress.

…

Throughout the night, Zetsu nursed her bruised face using a moistened towel. Silas didn't want her help anymore, considering her a liability after she had managed to upset a guest. Liza, meanwhile, did not want her to hurt herself further. So, the woman sat awkwardly to the side while everyone else bustled about in the kitchen. Things hit a fever pitch once the auction started, and Zetsu was glad she didn't have to go back onto the floor to witness it. Though, hearing the echo of the auctioneer's voice was more than enough to turn her stomach sour. She wondered how Kakuzu was and if Father had spoken to him yet.

She got her answer as during an intermission during the auction; a manservant entered the busy kitchen. "I am looking for…Girl?"

Zetsu looked up at the butler. Liza wasn't here to speak for her, leaving with Silas to get housework done now that the dinner rush was over. So, Zetsu got up and walked over to the suited man. He had an unimpressed expression as he looked her over. "Are you Girl?" She just nodded. "Very well, come with me," She obediently followed his lead as he gracefully walked her out.

They walked down the hallway from the kitchen up a grand staircase which bifurcated symmetrically. It had intricately designed golden balustrades and was blanketed in rich, deep crimson carpet. It led to an upper landing, and leaning on the handrail of the balcony was a lone figure. Zetsu let out a breath. It was Kakuzu. Upon seeing her, too, a flash of regret passed over his dark features, but it was gone in a blink.

The butler respectfully bowed to Kakuzu. "Sir, your pet."

"Thank you," Kakuzu grunted and gestured at Zetsu. He wrapped an arm around her as she approached, pulling her into a brief, tight hug against his side. Zetsu smiled a little. "Let's go. Father awaits."

Turning, Kakuzu walked them down a short hallway, the walls lined with large, framed portraits of unknown people. Maybe family, maybe slavers, too. At the end of the corridor was a pair of double doors with two guards posted on each side. Each large man was clad in a shinobi vest of unknown origin, messily spray painted black and a skull stenciled on it, and concealing their faces in a black bandana, leaving only intense, knifelike eyes visible. They both casted suspicious and cautious glances at the two individuals.

"Father is expecting us," Kakuzu explained while Zetsu remained silent, presenting as the blissfully ignorant pet.

One of the guards entered the office to get confirmation from Father, while the other kept them grounded with an intimidating stare. A moment later, the guard exited. He said nothing, just holding one of the doors open for them to enter. Zetsu had no idea if they were still sticking to the plan of: find this Father bastard and kill him then get the fuck out, but she trusted Kakuzu.

The office was sophisticated, with bookshelves lining the walls, filled with books and files, and ornated with antique and expensive curios. Its centrepiece was a grand fireplace, its mantel crafted from rich, dark wood. Adjacent to the fireplace was a large mahogany desk. And seated behind it, in a desk chair, upholstered in rich leather, was Father. Upon entering, the doors were firmly shut to drown out the music from the live orchestra in the ballroom and to maintain privacy. Two more guards were stationed inside the office and strategically positioned themselves to block the doors. Kakuzu and Zetsu made note of this.

Father stood from his chair, a deceptively welcoming smile spreading across his bearded face. "Welcome, welcome. You must Hiroshi, yes?" He extended his hand towards Kakuzu for a friendly shake.

"Yes," Kakuzu confirmed, almost forgetting the fake name he had randomly thrown out mid-conversation with a table of stuffy politicians. He accepted Father's hand, making a conscious effort not to break it.

Father then fixed his gaze upon Zetsu, wearing the same gentle yet unnerving smile, causing her to fight against the instinct to look away. "And I've had the pleasure of meeting your pet, Girl. What an interesting name."

Kakuzu huffed. "It's the only name she would listen to," Which wasn't entirely a lie.

"Please, have a seat," Father gestured to the two armchairs positioned in front of his desk in matching leather. Once they sat down, he moved back to his chair, taking a moment to organize the paperwork on his desk. "I apologize for interrupting your festivities. Did you enjoy the auction? Buy any new toys?" The mention of "toys" elicited a smirk from him, and the immediate disgust was mutual between Kakuzu and Zetsu.

"No, nothing for interest," Kakuzu said, lifting his leg onto his knee.

Father nodded. "Yes. I don't blame you when you have such a fine pet already," He cast a quick glance at Zetsu, a glint in his sharp silver eyes, and she feigned ignorance of the look. "Which is why I asked for you, personally. See, it seems my daughter, Liza, has taken an interest in Girl here."

"Has she?" Kakuzu drawled. He assumed she was the girl Zetsu was with in the ballroom.

"Yes. So, I'd like to offer to buy her from you. What would you like?" He pulled out a chequebook from the desk drawer, fully prepared to write whatever amount Kakuzu demanded.

"I apologize but she is not for sale,"

Father smirked, obviously unfazed by the rejection. "Oh, but touché. Everything is for sale and so is everyone. All you have to do is write enough zeros. And by the look of it, Girl here is worth quite a few. But, let me get an accurate estimate for you," Father stood up from his chair once more, causing Zetsu to tense as he circled the desk in her direction, becoming hyperaware of his location. Kakuzu tensed too.

Father put his reading glasses on and sat on his desk in front of Zetsu, leaning in to scrutinize her closely. She sank in her chair to try and create as much distance as possible. "Let's see here. A symmetrical face. Though, it is difficult to tell from the swelling. Fair, pale skin. Hmmm…almond-shaped eyes. Gold. What a unique colour. As is the hair—spring. There is a crook in the bridge of the nose. It's likely a history of broken noses," He used his thumb to lift her upper lip over her teeth. "Oh, those teeth! Chiseled down sharp. Tell me: does she have a history as a fighting slave?"

"Yes," Kakuzu automatically said, not thinking much of the question. He was too busy making sure he didn't try to get too handsy and also figuring a way to take him out without it turning into a clusterfuck with Dumb and Dumber watching. He had no idea if they were shinobi and if so, their ranking.

"Ha! I knew it. That explains the facial damage and teeth. And why she's docile, too. Fighting slaves are so hard to break once 'retired'. That must also mean she's pure…" Father's invasive hand migrated to Zetsu's arm, tightly squeezing the bare, muscular bicep. Despite her efforts, she stiffened, her eyes widening and her jaw tightening. Thankfully, he pulled back a second later. "I'll offer you one million ryō as a base price. And an additional five hundred thousand ryō if she's pure," He didn't have to explain what he meant by "pure".

"I said she's not for sale," Kakuzu's tone grew more assertive, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The hardwood floor echoed with the sound of approaching footsteps as he noticed the two guards aggressively advancing toward him. Kakuzu stared them down with a glare as his sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing his bloodshot eyes.

"How about this? One million ryō base price and one million ryō additional for her purity? Final offer." Father spoke up, interrupting the ballooning tension in the room as he waved at his bodyguards to back down temporarily. Kakuzu remained silent, clearly strategizing their next move as Zetsu observed from the corner of her eye.

After a moment of silence, he finally let out a sigh. "Fuck it."

Father smiled, clearly believing he was taking the deal. That is, until Kakuzu got up and slugged one of his guards in the face. He didn't get a second hit in when the other bodyguard leapt it to help his associate.

Taking her mentor's cue, Zetsu launched herself at Father, tackling him over his desk, paperwork and pens flying in every direction. As they tumbled to the floor, Father struggled beneath her, reaching desperately for his desk. Zetsu noticed a large, red button underneath, which she presumed would call for reinforcements. So, she did the only thing she could think of at that instant and snapped her teeth down onto his arm. Pain shot through the limb, and he screamed.

He tried pulling away, but the crushing pressure of her jaws did not allow it. Instinctively, Father used his free hand to push Zetsu off, causing her sharp teeth to sink down further through flesh and into tender muscle. He next went to grab a handful of the woman's hair. However, due to her buzzcut, there was nothing to hold. So, his hand slipped downwards to the next thing it could latch onto.

His fingers wrapped around the piercing in the back of her next, blind panic making him ignore the hot, black metal burning his fingertips. With a firm yank, the receiver was forcefully dislodged and sent skittering across the ground to be lost. Immediately, Zetsu released his arm. Her hands flew to the back of her neck. Father tried again to go for the button, but his arm laid broken and useless. So, grabbing a fountain pen that had fallen on the floor near him, he seized upon her momentary distraction to stab her with it.

Meanwhile, one bodyguard came at Kakuzu with a kunai electrified with raiton. Unfortunately, Kakuzu could not block it with his doton, lightning release nullifying earth release. So, he used his threads charged with fūton from his wind heart to cancel out the bastard's jutsu and easily disarm him. He then kicked him into a bookcase, falling hardcover books battering the man over the head and dazing him. The second thug came running towards him with a raiton-charged katana, but Kakuzu blasted him back with Daora as she peered her mask out from underneath his suit collar. The gust sent him falling into the fireplace, shattering hot embers and heavy iron tools. He screamed as he was engulfed in flames, the cotton stuffing in his vest acting like kindling.

Kakuzu took the opportunity to check on Zetsu, and what he saw caused all five of his hearts to plummet to his toes. Zetsu stumbled backwards from Father, the fountain pen buried in her temple, as she turned towards Kakuzu with a mortified expression.

"Zetsu!" Kakuzu yelled in alarm, but before he could get to her, the previously stunned gangster had regained his senses and attacked again.

Red blood trickled from the quill before darkening into a thick, black liquid. It moved viscously like oil mixed with tar and washed away the pen. It next began to ooze from Zetsu's eyes, then her nostrils, and mouth, leaving dark, slick trails down her cheeks and neck that contrasted sharply against her pale skin. Her breathing became shallow and ragged; each exhale produced a wet, gurgling sound that caused black bubbles at her lips, dripping down her chin and staining her teeth. Her golden orbs now clouded and unfocused. Her body shuddered with a violent cough, and more liquid erupted from her mouth, splashing onto the ground where it sizzled like hot tar and emitted an acrid odour.

She jerked back towards Father, the black fluid splattered in all directions, staining everything it touched. Her movements were erratic and violent as if her body was being manipulated by the invisible strings of a puppeteer. Father was filled with silent horror as Zetsu staggered towards him, backing away until he was cornered against a bookshelf. She came to a stop, towering over him, staring at him with an empty gaze with white eyes, crying black tears.

"I. Am. Awakened." Zetsu proclaimed, her voice guttural like gravel scraping against stone, and each syllable enunciated with ominous precision.

Lifting her arm, it became engulfed in the bubbling, black tar, and the inky substance moulded itself into a grotesque, larger appendage with fingers ending in razor-sharp claws. She utilized it to slash through Father.

Father impulsively screamed despite there being no pain. It was a tingling sensation that prickled his skin like a thousand tiny needles, mainly in his hands. He stared down at them and watched in horror as his flesh began to lose its solidity. His fingertips drooped, melting like wax under a flame, then dripping onto the ground with a sickening plop. He tried to scream again, but his voice gurgled and fizzled out. His body collapsed into itself and turned into a puddle of human essence. His features blurred and melted away, eyes dissolving into formless orbs, mouth a yawning chasm that soon filled with the liquid that had once been his tongue. Zetsu smirked, staring at what was once a man.

Suddenly, her head jerked back, and she unleashed a primal scream. She clenched her head, her body trembled, and every muscle straining. Deep inside her mind, a voice whispered cruel lies into her mind, tearing at the very fabric of her sanity. But she refused to surrender. However, it felt like a losing battle. She didn't want to harm Kakuzu. So, she fled the office through a wall using the Mayfly.

"Zetsu!" Kakuzu cried after her, liberating the thug's throat he had crushed in his bronze fist.

Unfortunately, he could not give chase as the doors flew open, and the two guards outside rushed inside, finally hearing the ruckus after the orchestra stopped playing. If that wasn't bad enough, there was the crackling sound of flames. The guard that had fallen into the fireplace had supplied the perfect fuel for the fire, and it was now spreading out of control, igniting bookshelves and furniture as black smoke billowed through the office. Despite the growing fire, the guards charged Kakuzu.

…

"Bathroom is done!" Liza called out to Silas as she exited the bathroom, setting down her bucket of cleaning supplies and wiping the sweat from her brow.

"I'm almost done dusting," Silas said back, standing upon a latter and using a feather duster on the intricate crown moulding. He didn't understand why they were responsible for cleaning when they had servants and slaves for that. But he wasn't going to ask Father that. Father didn't like it when they asked questions.

Liza was going to go to the next bathroom to clean when she noticed a dark liquid on the hardwood floor. It trailed down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. It looked like—

"Silas!" Silas looked down at his sister as she frantically tugged at his pant leg, undoing the cuff.

"Liza! Don't pull on me!" He shooed her hand away with his foot and stepped down on the ladder, so she didn't cause him to fall. "What is it?"

"T-There's…I t-think there's blood!"

"Blood?" She nodded and pointed at the track of mysterious fluid on the floor. It was difficult to tell if it was blood as to him, it looked too dark. Oil, maybe? Maybe one of the help spilt it while refilling the lanterns. They could be so clumsy.

"We have to go check! What if someone is hurt?" Liza was insistent as she pulled on her dress, anxiously bouncing in place.

"Then we'll let one of the servants know—" But it was too late as she took off to follow the trail herself. "Liza!" Silas dropped the duster and leapt off the ladder to chase his sister. He tailed Liza around the corner and almost bumped into her where she was standing, motionless. Just a brief glimpse hinted at the reason behind this.

The hallway was cloaked in eerie darkness, the lanterns having burned out, leaving only the faint moonlight to filter through the windows. The air was sour with a metallic scent but not that of oil. A wet, tearing noise reverberated down the corridor, emphasized by grunting and snarling. It lurked just out of sight, but there was the silhouette of something—something large and monstrous.

Suddenly, a pair of glowing eyes pierced the gloom and a low, rumbling growl resonated from the darkness, mingling with a wet, slurping sound. A macabre, discordant melody began to rise from the creature's throat.

"Come little children, I'll take thee away,"

It was singing, a chilling lullaby that echoed through the hallway. The song was haunting, its notes twisted and warped, filled with an unnatural cadence that sent chills down the spine. The dim light caught glimpses of its grotesque form—jagged teeth gnashing, matted fur slick with blood, and sinewy muscles rippling under its mottled skin. Its claws scraped against the walls as it drew near, leaving deep gouges in the plaster. Silas and Liza wanted to run but were frozen underneath its hellish gaze.

"Come little chidren, the time's come to play,"

Eyes of gold and red swirled like a kaleidoscope and were the last thing they saw before the darkness swallowed them whole.

"Here in my garden of shadows."

…

After finishing the last of Father's bodyguards, Kakuzu ran out of the office. Behind him, flames began to billow out of the room, licking at the door frame and spilling into the hallway. Thick black smoke poured out, filling the corridors with a suffocating fog. Servants sprinted past him, desperately trying to contain the fire with fire extinguishers, but it was like using a bucket on a forest fire. Realizing it was too late, the butlers and slaves scampered to get the guests out instead.

Kakuzu had to find Zetsu and get them out of here before the whole mansion went up. He dashed down the stairwell as the fire leapt onto the wooden bannister of the staircase and raced after him with terrifying speed. He had no idea where Zetsu could've fled, so he started kicking open doors while calling her name. He ended up in the kitchen, but she wasn't there either.

"Hey! There's a fire! Get out!" Kakuzu barked the slaves in the kitchen who persisted in cleaning as if deaf and oblivious to the blaring fire alarms.

One of the slaves, the man in the pink dress whom Kakuzu remembered from before, gave the Akatsuki member a blank look. He didn't have to speak, that empty gaze saying a thousand words. Kakuzu understood. He acknowledged the slave man with a nod and calmly walked out, leaving them to their chosen fate.

Amidst the chaos of the roaring inferno, people scrambled to escape the engulfed building, fighting their way through billowing smoke and intense heat. Kakuzu pushed through the ocean of bodies to keep searching, even braving the fire and the flames.

He galloped down a hallway only to skid to a stop as, through the suffocating smoke, the nauseating miasma of blood assaulted his nostrils. Underfoot were bits and pieces of gore strewn across the floor and fabric of an expensive suit like that worn by the butlers. Turning the corner, in the shadows materialized a petite figure. Kakuzu sighed in premature relief.

"Zetsu."

The shape straightened up from where it was hunched over its gruesome feast. It looked to stare at Kakuzu, and the elder felt his gut instinct kicking in, telling him that it wasn't Zetsu. It looked like Zetsu, but it was not her.

"Who are you?" He loudly demanded amid the blaring of the fire alarm.

The individual smiled with a mouth of gnashing, gnarled teeth, golden eyes glittering with mirth. "'And who are you?' The proud one asks. ' That I must bow so low?' Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth to know." Their mocking melody danced through the air.

Kakuzu gritted his teeth, taking a threatening step towards them, but had no intention of attacking. However, the mysterious figure called his bluff and charged, sprinting on all fours down the hallway at full-speed at him. Kakuzu stood firm, and as the individual launched themselves at him, he pivoted on his heel and delivered a punch square to their face. They instantly dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

"S-Sir…"

Kakuzu's eyes widened, and without hesitation, he swiftly leaned down to scoop Zetsu into his arms as she gasped for breath from the blow. "Zetsu, I—" Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the back of his neck as Zetsu dug her nails into it. No, not nails, claws.

She drew nearer to him, leaning to whisper in his ear. "It is too late to stop it now, my friend." She laughed, but it was not the laughter of joy but despicable delight; each chuckle spiked with malice. Then, abrupt silence as Zetsu fell unconscious.

Kakuzu didn't know what was going on, but he didn't have time to question it. The building loudly groaned, beams cracking and collapsing as the fire weakened them. The roof tiles began to buckle, and pieces of the ceiling crashed down, sending sparks and debris flying. To escape, Kakuzu jumped through a window and gracefully landed on the ground outside. He didn't look twice at the mansion, now a blazing beacon, as he disappeared into the forest treeline with Zetsu.

Mission completed: eliminate the Father.

…

Outside, onlookers watched as flames engulfed the multi-million ryō house, their faces smudged with ash and designer clothes singed and torn. A few wept in relief at their narrow escape as others noisily complained of their lost investments. Some even interrogated the newly unemployed servants administering aid to the injured about the location of their slaves after failing to find them among the survivors. Axel sobbed into the shoulder of a female housekeeper when his siblings and Father had failed to escape the inferno.

Amidst the bystanders was Yagura with a frazzled Water Daimyō, they being one of the first ones out. The Mizukage could put on the fire with his water jutsu but did not care enough to do so as he watched the fire in sombre fascination.

"It's back," A timid voice said from the depths of his conscience.

Yagura blinked, frowning. "What's back?" He inquired, ignoring the quizzical look from the Water Daimyō standing next to him.

"It's back," It said again, whimpering. The Jinchuuriki could practically taste his Bijuu's fear, sour on his tongue like a bitter wine. "It's back. Just like the All-Father said it would be. It's back, and it's going to kill everything."

"Isobu, what is back?" Yagura urged. He never got an answer, though, as his mind echoed with the Sanbi's mournful sobbing.

…

AN: It's finished, it's finally finished. I'm so sorry on the wait of this chapter as you can see, it's very long. And yet, not the longest I've written. Also, depression makes it a bitch to do anything. Anyway, I'm sorry to say but the action is going to be taking a break for awhile (phew). But, get hyped, we have one chapter left until a new Akatsuki member.

Next Chapter: Aftermath.

Until Next Time.