Koushin: Konoha’s Dragonborn[Completed]

In the rugged, rocky plains of Kumogakure, two powerful figures sparred. Their movements were like a choreographed dance, every punch, every kick, every dodge executed with practiced precision. B, the Eight Tails' Jinchuriki, and Yugito Nii, the Jinchuriki of the Two Tails, moved with an intensity that resonated through the empty landscape.

Their vigorous training session was spurred on by recent events. An attempted kidnap on Yugito had thrust the existence of Akatsuki into Kumogakure's direct line of sight. It was a threat that A, the Raikage, had not taken as seriously as he should have. Tsunade, the Hokage of Konoha, had warned him three years ago. Yet, Kumogakure was dismissive, believing their strength and isolation would keep them safe.

The attempted abduction of Yugito was a wake-up call. A chilling reminder that no village, no Jinchuriki was truly safe. It was the ruthlessness of the Akatsuki's intentions, the clear declaration of war, that made A understand Tsunade's earlier warning. The threat was closer, more immediate than they had believed.

Despite the dire situation, Yugito had managed to escape, largely thanks to the timely intervention of shinobi from Konoha who were closer to her location. It was a humbling experience, a realization that their pride could have cost them dearly.

Then there was the issue of Kisame Hoshigaki. Captured but not kept contained for even a day, his escape was another bitter blow to Kumogakure's pride. Koushin, the chief advisor to the Raikage, had insisted that keeping Kisame alive wasn't logical. But A had refused to listen, allowing his anger and desire for retribution to cloud his judgment.

His defiance led to disaster. Kisame vanished the next day before the sunrise touched Kumogakure's sky, leaving behind a village in turmoil and a Raikage feeling the sting of defeat and humiliation.

A was furious, his wrath echoing through the halls of the Raikage office. But his anger couldn't change the reality of their situation. Their enemy was elusive, and they were back at square one.

"That brat was right," B growled, pulling back from an attack to catch his breath. Sweat rolled down the side of his face, disappearing into the thick fur collar of his coat. "We couldn't even hold Kisame for a night."

Yugito, in a crouch, paused, her eyes reflecting the bitterness in B's words. There was a palpable sense of frustration in the air, an emotional undertow to their rigorous sparring session. "What was his name?" B mused aloud, his brows furrowing.

"Koushin," Yugito supplied tersely. The name slipped out with a sharpness that B immediately picked up on.

"Ah, yeah," B nodded, smacking his palm with a fist in mock recollection. His gaze fixed on Yugito, noting the scowl that appeared at the mention of Koushin's name. "Why do you hate him so much?"

"I don't hate him," Yugito retorted quickly, her eyes narrowing. "He doesn't mean anything to me."

"Riiiight!" B drawled, the smirk on his face teasing and somewhat disbelieving. He'd known Yugito long enough to recognize when something - or someone - was bothering her. And from the looks of it, this Koushin had certainly left an impression.

"Well, it seems like he left an impression on you." B pushed, prodding at the issue like a thorn in a paw.

Yugito's face got beet red from anger and embarrassment as she upped her attacks. Her arms became blurs, palm thrusts followed by vicious kicks, her body moving with a speed and agility that made her seem like a feral cat. The growing anger and frustration behind her actions added a new ferocity to her movements, making her a whirlwind of concentrated aggression.

B, however, barely moved, swatting away her flurries of attacks with an annoying ease. His brows furrowed, a seriousness taking over his features as he instinctively tensed. He turned to look at a distance, his eyes narrowing at the sight that met him.

"We have company," he announced, his voice low and cautious.

Yugito, still panting from her exertion, followed his gaze. Her eyes fell on four figures slowly making their way towards them. Their silhouettes stood stark against the setting sun, an ominous picture painted on the canvas of the rocky terrain. Their approaching figures sent an unexpected chill down her spine. She could feel a sense of foreboding settling in her gut. These were no ordinary visitors.

The figure leading the quartet was tall, lithe, and carried an aura of malevolent charisma. His long, sleek hair was as dark as the night, shimmering in the dying rays of the sun. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the heavy, black cloak he wore. Intricate red clouds were embroidered onto the fabric, a symbol of the clandestine organization they represented.

There was an aura of cold, calculating power about him, like a snake poised to strike. He moved with an unsettling grace, a predator smoothly gliding towards its prey. The fear he elicited was not an instinctual response to an outward show of physical prowess but a primal, gut-wrenching sensation born from an understanding of the danger that the man represented.

The second figure, even from a distance, carried an aura of stoic calm. The youngest amongst the four, he was somewhat shorter than the others. His hair was a brilliant red, striking against the black of the Akatsuki robe. There was a noticeable quiet strength about him, an unyielding resolve that spoke of a determination forged in the crucible of harsh realities.

Following closely behind them were two men, each carrying their own unique aura. One was tall, his robust physique indicating a life of rigorous physical training. His eyes, partially hidden under a thick mane of reddish-brown hair, held a certain weary wisdom.

The other, on the other hand, had an air of melancholy surrounding him, his eyes carrying a deep-seated sadness. His long, unkempt hair flowed down his back, swaying slightly with each step he took. His expression was distant, as if his mind was constantly grappling with thoughts that distanced him from the present.

As they came closer, the tension between the groups was palpable, an electric charge that prickled at the skin and set hearts pounding. B's gaze hardened, flicking from one figure to the next, identifying them with a grim certainty.

"Orochimaru," B called out, his voice echoing in the deserted landscape. The leader's lips curved into a cruel smile at the recognition. "Gaara, Roshi, Utakata." B continued, addressing each of the followers in turn. The pronouncement hung heavy in the air, the name of each an infamous legend in their own right.

"There is no need for words. We are enemies," B said, his voice rumbling like the thunderous growl of an impending storm. The transformation was swift and potent. Chakra flared around him, swirling and pulsating with a power that sent tremors through the earth. His form shifted, grew, and in a flash, where B once stood, the Eight-Tails emerged in his place, a formidable presence against the setting sun.

Yugito followed suit. There was a sharp gasp as her body twisted and distorted. The air seemed to buzz with her energy, a tangible wave of heat radiating off her. With an echoing roar, she too transformed, the Two-Tails coming into existence beside the Eight-Tails, her blazing eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light.

The sight was daunting, two of the world's most potent creatures of power standing in their full glory. A cruel laugh cut through the charged silence. Orochimaru, standing at a safe distance, watched the scene with undisguised amusement.

"The stage is yours," Orochimaru drawled, his voice carrying a hint of sardonic humor. "Don't worry, they are not strong." His eyes gleamed with a knowing gleam, a coy promise echoing in his words. It was the sort of look that one gives when they already know the outcome of a situation, a chilling promise of a predetermined fate.