The summons came before dawn.
A silent ANBU masked in white and blue tapped once against our compound gate. No words. Just a single scroll and a sharp nod before vanishing into the mist.
Suigetsu unfolded it lazily, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "Audience with the Council. Midmorning. Full gear."
He looked at me next. "Guess it's time to smile for the nobles."
I said nothing, already dressing. Haku stood in the shadows, lacing his gloves. Kimimaro was still cross-legged by the window, eyes shut, meditating in silence. The tension was unspoken. We'd been blooded and tested. Not as genin, not as tools. As something else entirely.
Now, it was time to see how far that reached.
The Mizukage Tower loomed over Kirigakure like a spear buried in cloud. On our way in, shinobi turned to glance—some briefly, some lingering.
Not in curiosity.
In caution.
Whispers fluttered behind us, heavy with speculation. We were no longer a rumor. We had names now. "Fangs of the Deep." Kisame's dogs. His weapons.
No team name had ever carried so much dread in so little time.
At the top level, we entered a long corridor flanked by guards in black-gray flak. At the end stood a vast wooden door veined with sea-green coral lines. The moment we approached, it opened inward with a low, reverberating hum.
Beyond it, the Council waited.
Seven seats formed a half-moon arc. Most were filled. Some familiar. Others… not.
Kisame sat at the central position, relaxed but watchful. His eyes flicked over us once before settling forward.
To his right sat a woman dressed in layered violet silks, black tattoos coiling down her throat. Lady Mei Terumī. She was younger than most here, but her eyes—molten and unreadable—said she'd seen as much as any. Lava and mist ran in her blood, they said.
To his left, an aged shinobi with heavy jowls and narrowed eyes: Genshi, a war elder and former Kiri strategist.
Next to them were lesser-known, but no less deadly, figures—clan representatives from the Karatachi, Hōzuki, and the shattered remnants of the Hyūga branch that defected decades ago. The air was tight with power, restraint, and suspicion.
Kisame stood.
"These are the Fangs," he said simply. "You know what they've done. You've read the reports. And now, you'll meet them."
His gaze flicked to us.
"Introduce yourselves."
I stepped forward first.
"My name is mine to keep," I said clearly. "The village calls me Pressure. That's enough. I serve the Mist. I serve the Mizukage."
Kimimaro followed without pause. "Kimimaro of the Kaguya. My blade, my bones, and my breath belong to the Mist."
Suigetsu grinned. "Suigetsu Hōzuki. I'm here to kill the village's enemies, not kiss its elders' rings."
A few councilors frowned. Kisame didn't.
Haku bowed slightly. "Haku. No clan. No ties. I bring the ice, if you bring the war."
Lady Mei studied us with one raised brow, then leaned forward. "You look more like assassins than shinobi."
"We're both," I answered. "When necessary."
Her lips quirked slightly—approval or amusement, I couldn't tell.
Genshi spoke next, voice gravel-lined. "Kisame, this isn't a unit. It's a weapon. A blade too sharp might turn in the hand."
"They won't," Kisame said.
"And if they do?" a voice from the Karatachi side asked.
Kisame's smile was wide. "Then I'll sharpen them until they don't."
That silenced the room more than anything else.
Lady Mei leaned back. "You gave them your name. Your personal command. What are they for, Kisame?"
"Deterrence," he said. " Precision executioners. Symbols."
"To the clans?" Genshi asked.
"To everyone."
Whispers passed between the seated shinobi. A few stared openly. Not at Kisame—but at us. The four figures standing calm, still, armed to the teeth and unmoved by the weight of politics.
That's what rattled them.
We were too composed.
Too efficient.
Too quiet.
Lady Mei finally stood. Her presence seemed to shift the air, pressing down on the rest of the room.
"I want a demonstration," she said. "Not today. But soon. Let the Mist see these fangs gleam. Otherwise, they'll whisper more than they already do."
"Then they'll get their demonstration," Kisame said. "Soon enough."
We were dismissed not long after.
But the walk back was slower. Weighted. This time, shinobi didn't just glance—they made way.
Some bowed slightly, unsure whether we were to be feared or followed.
Haku noticed it first. "They don't know whether to respect us or isolate us."
"Both," Kimimaro said. "That's always how it begins."
Suigetsu whistled low. "Y'know, I didn't expect to be hated this much. We haven't even done anything recently."
I met his eye. "Existing is enough."
He laughed. "You would say something dramatic like that."
But the laughter faded as we passed the clan quarters. Representatives from the Karatachi bowed briefly, stiff with formality. A Hyūga elder narrowed his pale eyes at me, lingering just a second too long before turning away.
No warmth.
No camaraderie.
Just weight.
We were weapons.
But even weapons have shadows.
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Word spread fast in Kirigakure.
By the next morning, there were whispers in every alley, around every steaming ramen bowl, under every breath muffled by mist. Kisame's squad. The Fangs. Tools of a hidden agenda. Some admired, others feared, and more than a few plotted.
The day opened with a call—not from Kisame this time, but from the Elder Assembly.
We were to appear before a smaller, specialized council: an internal coalition of military tacticians, clan heads, and field commanders tasked with shaping the next stage of the Mist's strategic doctrine.
Where the last meeting had been political, this one was practical.
The room was smaller, darker, colder.
Around the stone table were names more familiar to us.
Lady Mei again, seated with legs crossed, arms folded.
Elder Genshi.
But this time, new faces joined.
A tall woman with a long scar down her chin: Lady Honoka Hōzuki, matriarch of one of the Hōzuki branch families. Her presence was like still water—reflective, unreadable, but deep.
A rigid man with silver brows and pale eyes: Elder Hisame Hyūga, survivor of the Water-side Hyūga migration. He held his hands inside his sleeves, the mark of someone who preferred judgment over action.
And finally, seated with a wrapped tanto on his lap, was Karatachi Daigo, a distant relative of Yagura himself. His features were sharp, precise, like his movements, and his eyes bore into us with quiet scrutiny.
Lady Mei didn't waste time.
"This unit is meant to stand outside the system, yet answer to the system. That tension will break if left unchecked."
Kisame, sitting at the far end, gave a sharp-toothed smile. "That's the point. Break the tension before it breaks the village."
Elder Genshi grunted. "These four—have they operated outside village grounds yet?"
"Only simulations and secure target trials," Kisame replied. "Their first live field mission is pending."
I stepped forward. "Why the delay?"
Lady Honoka raised an eyebrow. "You speak freely."
"I was raised in silence," I replied. "I prefer honesty now."
A few council members exchanged glances. Elder Hisame narrowed his eyes.
"You're the one with pressure-based chakra manipulation," he said quietly. "We've reviewed your technique. It's... unorthodox."
Kimimaro stepped beside me. "And effective."
Hisame did not blink. "And unproven."
Suigetsu's voice broke in. "We're not here to argue about proof. You've got test results. Battle reports. Blood-stained floors. We've delivered results without stepping outside the gates."
Lady Mei's eyes twitched with something—approval, perhaps. Maybe curiosity.
She leaned forward. "This council doesn't fear your power. It fears your purpose. What happens when Kisame dies? When he falls in battle? Where does your loyalty lie then?"
Kisame didn't interrupt. He let the question hang in the air.
I answered. "Our loyalty is to Kirigakure. But loyalty to Kirigakure doesn't always mean loyalty to its elders."
That did cause a reaction.
Elder Hisame stiffened. Daigo's brows lowered slightly. Honoka only sipped from her pipe.
"Then what does it mean to you?" Genshi asked.
I looked him straight in the eye. "Loyalty means protecting what's worth protecting—even if it means disobeying the ones holding the reins."
Lady Mei chuckled, low and dangerous. "A romantic. Or a revolutionary."
-----
After the meeting, we weren't dismissed immediately.
Instead, Honoka approached, eyes locked on Suigetsu.
"You're from the branch born on the outer islands."
He tilted his head. "You read bloodlines like scrolls, huh?"
"I remember your mother. She drowned during childbirth. You're her legacy."
The moment passed heavy between them, until she added, "Don't waste her sacrifice being another sword Kisame swings. Be more."
Then she turned and left.
Kimimaro was approached next by Elder Daigo.
"You carry the Kaguya name," Daigo said quietly. "And yet, you kneel to Kisame?"
"I kneel to no one," Kimimaro said evenly. "I serve."
Daigo looked unimpressed. "Remember where you came from. No one here will."
Then came Elder Hisame, and I was already braced for what he'd say.
"You're an anomaly," he said. "A missing link between combat form and chakra finesse. But your instability is written all over your techniques."
"I've yet to break," I replied.
"You will. All weapons do."
Back outside, the air felt less like mist and more like smoke. Acrid. Tense. Ready to catch.
"They fear us," Haku said, watching the rooftops.
"As they should," Kimimaro added.
Suigetsu gave a half-shrug. "I don't care if they're scared. Just means we're doing our job."
"No," I said. "We're doing his job."
They looked at me.
"Kisame's building something," I continued. "And we're the foundation. But that doesn't mean the house won't collapse on us later."
"You're thinking too far ahead," Suigetsu muttered.
"I always do," I said.
We returned to our compound.
Waiting inside was a sealed scroll, freshly delivered.
Kisame's handwriting.
Your mission is greenlit. Pack. Move at dawn. Objective: Eliminate rogue Jonin codenamed 'Namioka.' Target is former Kiri, now armed and operating outside our borders. Lethal force approved. Test begins now.
Haku folded the scroll.
"Back to the field."
"Finally," Kimimaro said.
Suigetsu cracked his neck. "Time to work."
I stood at the threshold, staring out at the mist.
We'd met the village's shadows. Spoke to their teeth. Looked into the eyes of the old world.
Now, it was time to see if our blades were sharp enough to carve out the new one.
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The sun dipped low behind the thick mist, casting long, warped shadows across the compound. Despite the serene beauty of the village, there was a palpable tension in the air. The mission was set, but the Fangs of the Deep felt the weight of what was to come—our first real field mission, and the first step into the unknown.
We were not quite soldiers, not quite tools, but something different—a product of Kisame's vision, yet an entity separate from the Mizukage's traditional force. Even the higher-ups who had called us anomalies now watched us like hawks. There was no telling how long that would last before they made their move.
Inside the compound, preparations were underway.
"Any bets on who'll start this mission off?" Suigetsu asked, catching the kunai and flicking it back into his pouch.
"Not me," Kimimaro replied, still focused on his weapons. "I'll be the last one to draw my blade."
"I think that's how it always goes," Haku murmured. "The most deadly move is the one you don't see coming."
I stood by the window, gazing out at the ever-encroaching mist. We had been given very little information about the rogue Jonin we were targeting—just a name and a codename. 'Namioka' was a mystery to us, but that would change quickly enough. Rogues, especially former Kirigakure shinobi, were a complicated breed. They knew our methods, our terrain, and most importantly—our weaknesses.
"Think we'll make it back?" Suigetsu asked, his voice rough with a kind of quiet uncertainty.
"I'm not worried about the mission," I replied. "I'm worried about what happens after it. Kisame's plans go deeper than any of us realize."
Kimimaro gave me a sideways glance. "And what's your plan?"
"I have no plan," I said. "But I know this much—if we make it back, Kisame will have us do something else. There's no end. Just... missions."
The words felt heavier than I wanted them to. The silence stretched on, suffocating in the thick, wet air.
Kisame appeared without ceremony, his presence in the doorway an unwelcome weight. He wasn't the kind of man to announce himself, and he didn't need to. We had learned quickly enough that his very being demanded attention. The same could be said of the Samehada, which was now draped across his shoulders like a living thing.
"You're ready," Kisame said. His voice held no warmth, no pride—only the cold edge of command.
We all nodded, but I felt the weight of his eyes on me longer than the others. For a moment, his gaze seemed to weigh me down, as if searching for something. I met his stare, trying to find the root of his thoughts, but he was unreadable.
"I expect success," he said, as if that alone was enough. He paused, the weight of his words sinking into the room. "Do not disappoint me."
His gaze lingered on each of us again. He didn't need to give any further orders; we understood what was expected of us. But the absence of the words 'stay safe' or 'return victorious' was telling. It wasn't about safety. It was about completion. The mission was the only thing that mattered.
The night felt colder as we left the compound.
Our shadows stretched behind us as we made our way through the narrow streets of the village, the sounds of the bustling populace falling away as we headed to the village gates. There were no cheers, no applause. The people of Kirigakure were used to shinobi coming and going, the cycle of violence almost accepted as part of life.
The village had not yet realized the scale of what Kisame was preparing—but we did. We were the first pieces on a chessboard that stretched far beyond the shores of this mist-covered land.
The gates opened before us, and we stepped through. A fresh layer of fog rolled in, thick and oppressive.
"We'll travel by water," I said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us as we moved into the forest. "The most direct path to the rogue's last known location is by the coastline."
Suigetsu grinned, already a little too excited at the prospect of heading toward the water. "I'll take the lead, then. I've got the best affinity for water." He stretched, his muscles rippling under his skin, and grinned. "No one gets the drop on me."
I glanced at Haku and Kimimaro, who remained silent. Both were serious, their minds already on the task ahead.
"Don't get too cocky," I muttered to Suigetsu, "We don't know what we're walking into. We'll need to move carefully."
Kimimaro's eyes glinted as he spoke. "I'm ready for whatever we find."
And just like that, the quiet turned into a tension-laden buzz.
The trip to the target area was a brief one. The dense fog made every footstep feel heavier, and the weight of the world seemed to press down with every passing hour. The coastline came into view like a slumbering beast—endless stretches of jagged rocks and shifting sand. We stayed hidden in the shadows, moving with quiet precision.
Suigetsu's water affinity allowed him to lead the way through the coast's winding paths, creating paths of water in the air and bending them into shapes that masked our presence. The rest of us followed closely, feeling the weight of the mission in every step.
As we neared the rogue's supposed hideout, we slowed. The tension in the air became thick, something almost alive in its insistence. We were close.
But then, the silence broke.
A shout rang out from up ahead.
"Damn it. You're not welcome here!"
I raised a hand, signaling for us to halt. My heart beat faster as we all moved into formation, readying our weapons. The rogue was near—too close for comfort.
The first clash came swiftly, like lightning in the night.
Kimimaro was the first to move. Bones shot out from his body, launching toward the figure in the distance—Namioka—who dodged with surprising speed.
It was clear from the moment Namioka moved that we were facing no average rogue.
But neither were we.