Hidan's scythe gleamed as it finally struck home, embedding itself deep into the torso of his opponent. Kimimaro however, didn't flinch. He merely glanced down at the blade protruding from his body, the faintest hint of something flickering in his cold eyes.
"You finally hit me," Kimimaro murmured, his voice devoid of pain or surprise. He reached up, gripping the weapon with pale fingers, and pulled it out effortlessly. There was no blood, no gasp of agony. The wound sealed almost as quickly as it had appeared with a paper-like material. "But it won't make a difference."
Hidan stared, confusion etching itself across his features. "What the actual—? You're supposed to bleed! This isn't how it's supposed to work!" He twirled his scythe back with a sharp flick of his wrist. "You can't just not bleed!"
"I'm already dead," Kimimaro explained calmly. "Thanks to Yurochi-sama, I am alive but beyond the reach of mortal sensations. No blood-" He paused, a fleeting smile touching his lips. "-no pain."
Hidan gritted his teeth, frustration simmering. His entire strategy revolved around his ability to spill blood and offer it to Jashin. Without that, he was at a standstill. "No blood," he muttered under his breath, realization dawning that this battle could not be won on his terms.
"You're no fun at all!" Hidan spat before turning on his heels, and scouring the area for his partner. Kakuzu had seen the fight unfold from a distance, his keen eyes assessing every detail. Hidan raced toward him, scythe dragging behind. "Kakuzu! This guy's cheating. He's got no blood to bleed. I can't do a thing!"
Kakuzu's eyes narrowed, "I already saw," he muttered, his tone revealing little. "The fact that he doesn't bleed makes him quite the problem for you."
Before Kakuzu could strategize further, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Kakuzu-san, if you're interested, I have a proposition that might be worth your while."
The duo turned to see Yurochi, Kakuzu's gaze hardened. He had already laid out the terms —what more did this kid want?
"What is it?" Kakuzu asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Free money," Yurochi replied simply, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Hidan scowled, impatient as ever. "Can you not? We have to leave! Kakuzu, just kill this kid!"
In one swift motion, Kakuzu wrapped several tendrils of his threads around Hidan's mouth, hurriedly silencing him once more. "Adults are talking," he said evenly, though there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. Hidan, muffled but not subdued, glared furiously.
Yurochi, unfazed, stepped closer. "There's a body buried nearby. One worth quite a lot if delivered properly."
Suspicion crept across Kakuzu's face. He wasn't one to trust easily—especially not when money was involved. "Whose body?"
Yurochi's smile widened. "Zabuza Momochi. One of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Kakuzu reached into his coat and pulled out a battered book. He thumbed through its pages quickly, searching for a familiar name. When he found it—Zabuza's entry and the bounty listed beside it—his eyes widened, just a fraction.
"I see," he said slowly, the gears of his mind turning. "But if this is a trick…"
"It isn't," Yurochi confidently interjected, though his thoughts were also churning. He had to hope the bodies were still there and intact. "I assure you, it's the truth."
Kakuzu's gaze lingered on Yurochi for a long moment, measuring the truth of his words. Finally, he nodded. "If you're lying," he warned, his voice low and deadly, "I'll kill you myself. Along with your little puppet."
Two graves stood side by side on the edge of a forgotten clearing, each marked with care despite the brutal nature of the world they belonged to. Behind one grave, a massive blade jutted from the soil, its length halved and slightly covered in the elements. This was the grave of Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist.
Yurochi stood silently, arms swaying. Beside him, Kakuzu loomed like a shadow, his eyes forward. The tension between them was palpable, but Yurochi's expression remained neutral, betraying none of his thoughts.
Kakuzu broke the silence first, his voice as dry and lifeless as the dead beneath their feet. "This is it?" Without waiting for an answer, the masked man extended his arm, dark threads coming out of his limbs, snaking toward Zabuza's grave.
The earth split open under the control of Kakuzu's threads, the grave disgorging its contents. Zabuza's corpse, ravaged by time, was pulled out, his once fearsome features were now less recognizable, his flesh begging to decay.
"And this one?" Kakuzu gestured toward the second grave, his threads already beginning to cover Zabuza for transport.
Yurochi's gaze flicked briefly to the second mound of earth. His tone was dismissive, as though the grave held no more significance than a pile of rocks. "Zabuza's traveling companion," he said flatly. "Some unknown figure. Could have been something, but they died too soon."
Kakuzu's eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask, but he said nothing. Yurochi wasn't about to let on how much Haku's grave was the actually reason he was here. Let them believe it was inconsequential. The less Kakuzu knew, the better.
Shifting the focus, Yurochi tilted his head toward Kakuzu. "This covers it, doesn't it? Zabuza's body for Kabuto and me—our lives for his corpse. Deal?"
His cold gaze remained fixed on the task as he replied. "A deal is a deal."
Kakuzu finally stood, lifting Zabuza's corpse with ease. His eyes lingered on the massive blade sticking out of the ground. "Kubikiribōchō," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "One of the Seven Swords of the Mist. Highly valuable."
Yurochi didn't even blink. "Take it if you want, but only if you promise to never mention to Pain that you encountered us just now."
Kakuzu glanced at him as if gauging how serious he was. But Yurochi was genuine. The blade meant little to him right now and if it could be used to garner longer anonymity, then he would use it.
"I agree with your condition." Kakuzu responded by pulling the sword free from the ground with a single motion despite the strength required to handle such a weapon. He secured it alongside Zabuza's body. Without another word, he turned to head back to where they had left the others.
Yurochi silently watched Kakuzu walk off for a moment before following. When they arrived back, it was safe to assume the transaction was complete. With no other issues, the two Akatsuki members disappeared into the mist. Only when he was certain they were gone did Yurochi allow himself a moment to properly breathe.
'Letting them go and not engaging was the right move.' The thought echoed in his mind. Kakuzu was more than just a powerful adversary; he was the Akatsuki's financial backbone. Without him, the organization couldn't fund its vast network of operations, from recruiting spies to acquiring rare and dangerous items. His departure, however temporary, would force the Akatsuki to scramble for resources.
'Desperation breeds mistakes.' Yurochi smirked inwardly. Those mistakes could shift the tide in ways no one could predict. Perhaps even in ways that would cripple the Akatsuki entirely. It would cause unforeseen ripples.
Hidan, on the other hand, was inconsequential. He was strong, sure, but his abilities were limited to his immortality and ritualistic slaughter. Predictable, easy to manipulate, and frankly, not much of a threat unless someone was careless. 'Having him occupy a spot in the Akatsuki is actually beneficial,' Yurochi thought. 'They waste a slot on someone who could be easily outmaneuvered.'
His thoughts shifted to the inevitable future this encounter had set in motion. He could see it clearly: Asuma Sarutobi lying dead, his life drained by Hidan's gruesome rituals. Yurochi felt no pang of guilt, no stir of emotion. He remembered Asuma, of his reputation as a decent man and a skilled shinobi. But that was all.
'Asuma Sarutobi. Hiruzen's son.' Yurochi's lips curled into a faint, almost bitter smile. Regardless of what he might think, he had killed Hiruzen himself, striking down the so-called "Professor" when the time had come. So what if his son met the same fate? 'Let Asuma die as he was meant to. It changes nothing.'
His musings were cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Kabuto Yakushi stepped into view, Kimimaro following behind, his pale features calm yet calculating. Kabuto adjusted his glasses, offering Yurochi a slight nod. "Thank you. For not handing me over to Kakuzu."
Yurochi gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're more useful alive than dead. Besides, I got what I needed—Zabuza's DNA and Haku's corpse. Kakuzu can have everything else."
Kabuto's lips curled into a faint smile. "Practical."
Without further ado, Kabuto moved toward Haku's grave. He performed a series of quick hand signs,
Dog → Boar → Rat → Ox → Snake
"Doton: Seibo Genken." (Earth Release: Silent Coffin Unveiling.)
The ground trembled slightly as the earth peeled away, revealing the cold, lifeless form within. Haku's body was slightly more preserved than Zabuza's, his delicate features almost serene in death.
Kabuto unrolled a scroll from his pouch and laid it flat on the ground. He made a few more hand signs, and glowing seals spread across the surface of the parchment.
Tiger → Rat → Snake → Horse → Boar → Tiger
"Fūinjutsu: Shishi Kakuin." (Sealing Technique: Lion Devouring Seal.)
Placing his hand on the scroll causing seals spread across the surface of the parchment. In a swirl of chakra, Haku's corpse vanished, sealed away for future use.
Next, Kabuto turned his attention to Zabuza's grave. Though Kakuzu had taken the body, traces of DNA remained in the disturbed soil. Kabuto carefully extracted samples, sealing them in small containers before storing them in his pouch.
With their task complete, Yurochi gave a curt nod. "Alright, let's go."
Kabuto stood, dusting off his hands, and they began their trek through the dense forest. Behind them, the graves of Zabuza and Haku were now prematurely emptied out.
---
Jiraiya leaned against the wooden railing of a quiet inn balcony, eyes watching the orange tint of dusk settle over the sleepy village. It was one of those tiny places scattered across the Land of Fire—no shinobi barracks, no Hokage monument, just civilians going about their lives like the world wasn't on the verge of losing its mind.
Inside the room, Naruto was snoring like a dying boar, having wiped himself out during their latest round of chakra control training. Kid had energy for days and zero patience. Jiraiya smirked at the thought, arms folded, his mind wandering until a dull pop snapped him back to attention.
A small toad, no larger than a scroll pouch, landed neatly on the railing beside him. Jiraiya's smirk vanished the second he saw it. He had summoned this one when leaving the village to receive any intel.
"Urgent?" he asked, voice low.
The toad nodded and spit out a sealed scroll before vanishing without another word. Jiraiya's fingers moved fast, breaking the seal and unraveling the message with a growing scowl.
The scroll was short, but the words were enough to make even him stop and think.
Orochimaru and the Akatsuki.
Land of Waves. Broad daylight.
The details were thin. Witnesses reported a confrontation, not a fight. Apparently, One with a scythe had skirmished with Kimimaro who had been reportedly dead, and it ended in a draw. Then they all disappeared—together.
Jiraiya rolled the scroll back up and looked at the horizon, his expression unreadable. Orochimaru facing off with two Akatsuki members in public didn't sit right with him. He hadn't fought them. Not really. No one reported major damage, no explosions, no deaths. Just a strange clash that dissolved as quickly as it came.
He closed his eyes for a second.
"So what the hell were you doing out in the open, Orochimaru?"
Jiraiya had known his former teammate for far too long. The Snake didn't move unless he had an angle—unless it served some greater plan. So why pick a fight—or a meeting—with Akatsuki members in broad daylight, in a place as exposed as the Land of Waves?
Maybe it was accidental.
That made the most sense. Even Orochimaru wouldn't risk blowing his cover unless he was sure of the outcome. But then… why reveal Kimimaro and Edo Tensei? Why not just disappear before the fight? He wasn't the type to back down unless he had to.
The idea hit Jiraiya like a splash of cold water.
"Did you go there on purpose, you bastard?"
It didn't make sense. Orochimaru hated the Akatsuki. Betrayed them. They wanted him dead, so what's changed?
A deal?
The thought soured his stomach. Orochimaru didn't rejoin the Akatsuki. He couldn't. Not after what he had done, but a transaction? That was plausible. Something valuable enough for a temporary ceasefire. Something only Orochimaru had.
Or maybe… something he wanted.
The only thing that made less sense than Orochimaru brokering a deal was him being careless. But appearing in public like this meant one of two things: either he was losing it, or he was confident no one could stop him.
"Has that snake gotten that strong?"
The idea gnawed at him. Orochimaru was always dangerous. But if he'd reached a point where he didn't care who saw him, that meant his power had hit a new ceiling—or he believed it had.
Jiraiya didn't like that. Not one bit.
He turned back toward the sliding door to their room. Naruto was still snoring. Oblivious, like always.
There was no point waking the kid. Not yet. Jiraiya wasn't even sure what this meant. Orochimaru's appearance was troubling, but not urgent enough to derail their current mission. Not yet.
His thoughts drifted to the prophecy.
The Toad Sage's words echoed in his memory—the child of prophecy, the one who would bring great destruction or salvation. Jiraiya looked down at his calloused hands, then back at the village below.
Everything felt like it was moving faster now. The Akatsuki were showing themselves more. Orochimaru wasn't hiding anymore. And Naruto… he was getting stronger, slowly but surely.
The world was shifting.
And he had to make sure the kid survived long enough to decide it.
Orochimaru could wait. Whatever that snake was up to, it wasn't world-ending—yet. But the prophecy wouldn't fulfill itself. And if Naruto was really the one…
Then Jiraiya had a duty to get him ready for whatever hell was coming.
Still, the feeling wouldn't leave. Something about that meeting in the Land of Waves felt like a ripple before a storm. Orochimaru wouldn't risk exposure for nothing.
He wasn't that careless.
"Guess we'll need to wait and see," Jiraiya muttered, walking back inside and closing the door behind him.