Chapter XLII: Return of Blood Mist
"What the hell are you even thinking anymore, Lady Mya?!" former Mizukage Chojuro yells, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration. He strides quickly behind a shorter woman who wears the Mizukage's hat, her steps calm and unhurried despite the tension she feels brewing in the air. The blue-haired swordsman's tone is sharp, his words echoing through the quiet streets just outside the Mizukage's residence. His disbelief is justified, given the gravity of the situation.
The woman pauses, her hand reaching up to the hat perched on her head. She removes it, revealing long, flowing blue hair and a pair of sharp hazel eyes. Her attire is reminiscent of the previous Mizukage, Mei Terumi—a long-sleeved, dark blue dress that falls just below her knees. The striking resemblance, though uncanny, is for good reason. This woman is Mya Terumi, Mei's very own daughter, and the seventh shinobi to bear the title of Mizukage.
Mya turns to glare at Chojuro, her expression a mix of irritation and resolve. She offers him a weak smile before continuing to walk, the hat now resting at her side. "How disgraceful, Lord Sixth. Swearing like that is out of character for you," she says, her voice relaxed but carrying an edge of reproach.
Another shinobi follows closely behind them, his presence almost mirroring Mya's. He shares her blue hair and hazel eyes, though his hair is shorter and his clothing darker, more utilitarian. A bandaged sword is strapped to his back, its presence a silent reminder of his combat prowess. Given his identical appearance to Mya, the shinobi has to be none other than Mio Terumi, Mya's brother, and one of the Mizukage's closest advisors.
"It's also out of line," Mio adds, his tone firm as he addresses Chojuro. The Sixth Mizukage looks back at him, his expression one of disbelief and frustration. Chojuro feels as though he's the only one who sees the madness in their plan.
"Lord Mio, are you actually going through with this, too?" Chojuro demands, his voice rising. "How could you even consider this?! As the Mizukage's right-hand man, it's your obligation to take our people's lives into consideration!"
Mio scoffs, his expression hardening. "I am considering their lives, Chojuro. This decision will better the lives of our entire people, shinobi and civilians alike. I'm sure you're aware of the darkness spreading through the village. Whispers of an upbringing. Of civil war. These seeds of hatred were planted during Fourth Mizukage Yagura's reign of terror... and now, we plan on plucking out the weeds," Mio explains, a coldness present in his deep voice.
Chojuro's frustration boils over. He grabs Mio by the collar of his black shirt, his grip tight as he glares at the man. "Weeds...?! You can't speak of our people as if they're... disposable! If we officially enact this law, returning us to the Blood Mist Village... nobody's lives will improve... no, everyone will be put in jeopardy!"
Mya stops walking and turns to face Chojuro, her hazel eyes blazing with intensity. The taller man meets her gaze, his anger still evident, but Mya ignores his expression and begins to speak. "The goal of any nation," she starts, "is to be in the most advantageous position compared to its neighbours. Back when we were the Blood Mist, our shinobi were feared around the world. It was our policy not to feel any remorse for others. But look at the state we're in now. Currently, we're suffering the biggest lull in our village's history. We're a laughingstock...we've become too weak."
"With all due respect, Lady Mya, I don't see what that has to do with this terrible decision you've made," Chojuro retorts, his tone sharp.
Mya's patience wears thin. "Don't you see? The opportunity to once again become the most superior of the Five Great Nations has revealed itself through Gyatsō Mataba!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the empty streets. Chojuro's eyes widen, but he struggles to make sense of her words.
"The most superior nation?!" Chojuro exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief. "We won't even be a nation under his tyranny! You don't believe any of his crap... I know the truth... you're just out to save your own ass!"
Mya's fists clench at her sides, and she lets out a soft, bitter laugh. Mio steps forward, his hand gripping Chojuro's shoulder firmly. He feels the need to intervene, his loyalty to his sister outweighing his patience for Chojuro's outburst.
"Under my mother's term, you were as quiet as a mouse. I liked you better that way," Mio says, his voice low and threatening. "Speaking to the Mizukage like this after she's already made her decision... more than enough to be considered insubordination. If you continue this, I'll have you imprisoned."
Chojuro glares at Mio, his expression one of disgust. "Imprisoned, huh? Just like everyone else who refuses to buy into this crap," he spits, his voice dripping with contempt.
Mio's grip tightens, his patience wearing thinner and thinner. "Watch your tongue, Chojuro. I've only been lenient with you because you're a former Mizukage, but you don't have too many chances left."
Chojuro's eyes narrow, his resolve hardening. "Your mother was the Fifth Mizukage, and she would have never considered this. The goal of a nation isn't to be the most powerful—it's to ensure that its citizens remain safe. Gyatsō doesn't want to keep anyone safe. That insane bastard wants everything to be destroyed! Actually, if he even steps foot in this village, I'll kill him!" Chojuro declares, his hand gripping the hilt of his Hiramekarei sword. The weapon hums faintly with chakra, a silent warning to his superiors that he's deadly serious.
Mya turns her back to the two males, crossing her arms as the silence stretches between them. After a few long moments, she shifts slightly, turning her head just enough to glance back at Chojuro.
"This is the vision we have for the future of the village," she says coolly, her voice steady but carrying a weight of finality. "If you can't see it, perhaps you were never meant to be Mizukage. Perhaps you were never meant to be a shinobi of the Hidden Mist." She lets her words hang in the air; her gaze sharp. "If there's any truth to this, I grant you permission to defect from the village, Lord Sixth."
Chojuro opens his mouth, caught off guard by her words, but he doesn't speak. Instead, he walks closer to her, his expression intense, almost pleading.
"Don't you know that Gyatsō wants every Kage dead?" His voice tightens with a mix of concern and frustration. "Don't misunderstand me, Lady Mya. I'm not against the village, nor am I against you. I served under Lady Fifth for a long time... I'll never let that monster kill her daughter as long as I'm breathing."
Mya lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound laced with resignation. She slowly lowers her arms, a faint sigh escaping her lips. Her gaze softens, but her resolve remains firm.
"You won't listen to me, will you?" she asks, her tone defeated. "There's no point in continuing this. I'll say it again—if you wish to defect from the village, the choice is yours. Let's go, Mio."
Mio, standing quietly by her side, nods in agreement, though his eyes linger on Chojuro, sensing the conflict in his heart. Chojuro watches them, his feet rooted to the spot, but he doesn't move as they turn and walk away, their figures becoming smaller with each step.
Once they're out of sight, Chojuro takes a deep breath. His hand reaches behind him to untie the bandages around his blade, the familiar gesture almost like a ritual.
Hiramekarei. It's the same as it was when he last held it at the Five Kage Summit—wide and flat, with two curved indentations near its base, forming a makeshift cross-guard. The twin handles, still bound by a short cord, seem almost to pulse with the weight of his intentions.
Chojuro's blue hair ruffles slightly in the wind as he begins to channel chakra into the blade, the glow of it illuminating his focused expression. He is determined, more than ever, to face Gyatsō and put an end to the madness that has begun to taint the world.
"Future of the village," he mutters to himself, the words bitter on his tongue. "Going back to the Blood Mist is clinging to the past." His grip tightens around Hiramekarei, the blade humming with chakra. "I'll show them the true future."
"Lord Gyatsō, did I hear you correctly? The Hidden Mist wishes to ally with us?" Hikari asks incredulously, his brows furrowing slightly as he looks to his superior. Gyatsō, dressed in his dark cloak, nods as he adjusts it.
"Indeed," he replies coolly, securing the clasp of his cloak. "The daughter of the Fifth Mizukage succeeded her as the village's leader. She has the authority to make this decision."
Sebbech, who has been quietly observing, glances over at the white-haired leader, a thought clearly nagging at him. "I was certain that one of that woman's bodyguards... you know, that kid who's a member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist—"
"His name is Chojuro," Gyatsō interrupts smoothly. "And you're correct. He became the Sixth Mizukage, but he stepped down from office just a few weeks ago. It's almost poetic. Mei Terumi blamed her predecessor for the chaos that once ravaged the Hidden Mist, and now, here's her daughter, poised to repeat the same cycle."
Hikari lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement. "It's almost laughable, really," he adds with a subtle grin. Gyatsō shoots him a brief, sharp glance before speaking again.
"That won't be the case," Gyatsō says, his voice calm but firm. "The Five Great Nations will cease to exist in my world. As such, the revival of the Hidden Blood Mist will not come to pass."
Sebbech, standing a little apart from the others, smirks to himself, nodding in approval of Gyatsō's resolve.
"When will we depart for the Mist, then?" Hikari asks, his tone reflecting the anticipation of a coming mission.
"Now," Gyatsō responds without hesitation. "The Hidden Stone's resistance is hanging by a thread, so there's no need for us to intervene any longer. We must conserve our strength for the invasion of the Hidden Cloud. The Cloud is the last village left for me to make an example of."
Sebbech raises an eyebrow, a hint of concern in his voice as he questions, "Their Raikage is a perfect Jinchuriki, and their shinobi are exceptionally persistent. Do we have a plan for that?"
Gyatsō's lip curls slightly into a small, amused smirk. "Raikage and shinobi alike, nobody on this earth is capable of stopping me," he says with an air of finality. "The Hidden Cloud is nothing more than an obstacle I am more than ready to crush for the sake of my project."
At that moment, Hide appears in the room, his presence almost a whisper against the heavy air. He immediately drops to one knee and bows deeply before Gyatsō.
"My lord," Hide says, "the remaining Stone resistance has just fallen. At your word, I will lead Orochimaru's forces to imprison any survivors."
Gyatsō stands silently for a moment, his arms crossed as he considers Hide's words. Then, without missing a beat, he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head, his gaze distant yet resolute as he turns toward the door.
"See to it, Hide," he commands. "The rest of you, come. We have a meeting with the Mizukage to attend, and I would hate to keep her waiting."
"Do you guys understand what we're doing this for?" Chojuro asks, his voice filled with urgency. He stands before a sizable group of shinobi gathered in a dimly lit, shadowy room. Each of them wears the traditional Hidden Mist tracker shinobi masks, their identities concealed beneath the cold, expressionless visages.
One of the masked shinobi steps forward. "Gyatsō Mataba has already taken control of the Leaf and the Sand, and we have no idea how the Stone is holding up right now. We don't have any time to sit here and talk amongst ourselves. We know what we're doing this for," she says, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
Chojuro nods, his expression grim but resolute. "Our best contact, the Red Man, was able to send me a message while incarcerated in the Hidden Leaf Village. We've devised a plan of attack. Half of you will be coming with me to intercept Gyatsō and his men. The rest of you will apprehend Lady Mya and ensure her safety," he explains, his voice carrying the weight of command.
Suddenly, the lights flicker on, flooding the room with harsh, blinding light. Chojuro spins around, his eyes widening in shock as he takes in the scene before him. A large group of shinobi stands at the entrance, their weapons drawn and their expressions hardened. At the front of the group are Mya and Mio, their faces etched with anger and betrayal as they glare at Chojuro.
"I knew you'd plot against the village, you traitor!" Mya shouts, her voice sharp and accusing. Her hazel eyes burn with fury as she steps forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her weapon.
Chojuro's jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm no traitor," he retorts, his voice rising. "I'm doing this to help the village... and you, too!" His frustration is palpable, his mind racing as he tries to figure out who could have betrayed him. The thought gnaws at him, but there's no time to dwell on it now.
Mio doesn't wait for further explanation. With a snarl, he draws his unique blade and charges at Chojuro, his movements swift and deadly. Like Chojuro, Mio is a former member of the Seven Mist Swordsmen, a title that carries immense respect and fear. Despite the gap in their ages, the two men honed their skills through years of battle and camaraderie. But now, they stand on opposite sides of a conflict that threatens to tear the village apart.
"You can help yourself by dying to my Nuibari, Chojuro!" Mio yells, his voice filled with venom as he closes the distance between them.
Mio's blade—the Nuibari, or Long Blade— is a narrow longsword that resembles a massive needle, complete with a thin, mirror-like thread tied through the eye at the base of its hilt. The weapon is infamous for its ability to pierce through multiple targets in a single thrust and then stitch them together by pulling the attached wire taut. It's a weapon designed for precision and brutality, and Mio wields it with deadly skill.
Chojuro takes a few steps back, his reluctance to fight his former comrade evident in his hesitation. But before he can react, two of his loyal shinobi leaps into action, their movements swift as they intercept Mio. Their weapons are drawn, their determination clear as they position themselves between Chojuro and the enraged swordsman.
Mio smirks, his confidence unshaken as he raises his blade in front of him. The thread glints in the light. "You think your little friends can stop me?" he taunts. "Let's see how well they hold together when I'm done with them."
Ninja Art Long Blade... Stitching Spider.
Using Nuibari, Mio buries the sword's razor-sharp edge deep underground. As the two ninjas close in on him, their footsteps quick and determined, he yanks the concealed string with a swift motion. Instantly, a web of razor wire erupts from the ground, ensnaring their feet. Before they can even process what's happening, the wire slices cleanly through their ankles, severing their feet in a spray of blood. They collapse, their screams echoing through the room.
"Kaito! Itsuki!" Chojuro shouts, his voice strained with panic as he continues to back away from Mio, his eyes darting between his fallen comrades and the cold, calculating figure before him.
More of his shinobi, fueled by loyalty and adrenaline, charge toward Mio with a deafening battle cry, their weapons drawn and eyes blazing with determination. Chojuro's eyes widen in horror as he realizes the grave mistake they're making. "Stop! Don't get any closer to Lord Mio!" he warns, his voice desperate. But his pleas fall on deaf ears. The masked shinobi surge forward, unrelenting.
"Such idiots," Mio mutters under his breath, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. With a single, fluid motion, he flicks his wrist, sending Nuibari hurtling through the air. It pierces through the first shinobi effortlessly, then the next, and the next—all of them falling in a single, gruesome line. Mio catches the needle on the other side, his expression calm and almost bored, before whipping it back at a different angle. Again, the needle tears through flesh and bone, cutting down multiple shinobi in one swift strike. The battlefield is littered with bodies, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood.
"Stop, Lord Mio! These are your own shinobi!" Chojuro pleads, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and despair. He can't bear to watch this slaughter, especially at the hands of the man he once respected.
"My shinobi?" Mio sneers. "They're traitors, and so are you!" With a flick of his wrist, he hurls Nuibari directly at Chojuro, the blade glinting menacingly as it speeds toward its target.
Chojuro barely manages to dodge, the needle grazing his shoulder as he leaps to the side. He lands in a defencive stance, his hands gripping the handles of Hiramekarei tightly. The legendary sword hums with chakra as he prepares to face Mio, his former ally turned enemy. Mio smirks, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he watches Chojuro finally ready himself for battle.
"Hiramekarei... Release," Chojuro murmurs, his voice steady despite the mayhem ensuing around him. The sword responds instantly, its blade glowing as chakra surges from the holes at its tip. The energy expands, coating the entire blade and transforming it into a massive, glowing longsword. Chojuro's eyes narrow, his expression a mix of resolve and fury as he charges at Mio with swift movements. He keeps his focus locked on Mio's every move, anticipating the deadly precision of his opponent's Nuibari.
"Lord Mio, forgive me..." Chojuro whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible over the clash of steel and the cries of the fallen. "But I won't let Gyatsō Mataba take control of the village... nor the shinobi world!" His words are a vow, a promise to protect everything he holds dear, even if it means standing against the man he once called his superior. The battlefield trembles as their blades clash, the fate of the village hanging in the balance.