Reborn in the Mist

The crashing waters failed to drown out Kisame’s impatient thoughts but he bore through the slog of inactivity well, better than Samehada at least. His weapon, partner, extension and proof of his strength trembled for an opportunity to feast and he resonated well with the sentiment. Kisame had come all the way back to Kurokami-jima with haste because he knew that the island had more subjects for his skill than anywhere else.

He’d barely had the chance to give Samehada a taste of the many roaming armies because he wasn’t in charge of the mission back then, that cautious, slow Yuki was. She wasn’t here to drag on his coattrails now but he was still burdened with the fat, protocol ass-stuffed Jounin and Chuunin that made up his team.

Kisame sat by the edge of the waterfall, his teeth gnashing as he and another Jounin waited for the pair of Chuunin to return from what should be the final scouting trip. The Yuki’s owl, Denka, had delivered the Mizukage’s signoff for their liberating operation to begin. And so, even though they’d gone scouting nearly every day since yesterday, his fellow Jounin decided to err on the side of caution.

What’s with everyone these days? So spooked. Kisame understood to some extent his fellows were tired of war, the Third Shinobi war had just ended but a year now. Many were healing and many more were mourning.

Kisame had no one to mourn but Kirigakure’s definitive lack of a victory against any one of the other hidden villages. But there would be victory today, he would assure it.

Finally, amongst the growing forest that followed the river split from the waterfall, Kisame saw the Chuunin sprinting back. They covered the distance up the waterfall in quick bursts and landed by his side, “Well? Is it the same as yesterday or has something changed drastically?”

The Chuunin shared a look before the fairer kunoichi spoke, “Nothing drastic, but there is a second chakra presence a significant one, enough to be another Named Samurai.”

Kisame scoffed, “Then we continue.”

“Wait, there are three watch towers and all of them are active now, they aren’t taking shifts anymore. I think words got out.”

“Already?” The Jounin, an orange haired man from the Funato clan, “It couldn’t be so quick, we just got Mizukage-sama’s approval.” The man looked over at Kisame for some input as mission lead, a position he endlessly reminded Kisame he held any time he was found lacking.

Again Kisame scoffed, “Whether there’s a leak or not, whether they see us coming or not, their fate was sealed from the moment they failed to quietly kill the Daimyo and steal the throne. We move in, now.”

“What about Lord Yakubi-!” The Jounin yelled out but Kisame had already thrown himself down the waterfall.

He plummeted with a massive splash but did not resurface. With Samehada and the current helping him, he swam along through the river and all the way downstream until the first port legs came into his water view.

Rising from the water onto it startled the fisherman and child sitting with the bucket of catches. The child’s eyes became saucers while his fisherman father narrowed at Kisame, he quickly began muttering some sort of apology for existing but Kisame was already away.

The first thing ahead was his target; a large guard post that took up several metres with a gate, station and stable both out and within the Kurokami-jima’s largest city settlement. Filing in and out one by one was a horde of civilians, merchants, children and entourages of wealthy citizens come for a stay.

There weren’t any other entrances but the position was watched from all cardinal points via sky scaling towers and binoculars, if the gates were attacked for any reason those towers would empty themselves of Samurai and militia in hastened response.

And that was exactly Kisame’s intention when he cleaved the outside guard post in two. Samehada fuelled with his chakra demolished the building with ease and soon the nervous onlookers, travellers, merchants and returning city dwellers dispersed with their screams sounding even greater alarm than his destructive swing.

His Jounin subordinate had made emphasis on the Mizukage’s intent on making this a short war, further stating that short meant minimal destruction. Kisame, of course, understood the sentiment, but Kurokami-jima wasn’t going to be the only war front and right now, it was in the hands of the enemy.

Their reaction was swift, not as swift as to pre-empt or even encourage Kisame with a pouring of numbers but swift nonetheless. Twenty-four spearmen flooded out of the streets to surround him even before the broken guard post was fully behind him.

Kisame swung Samehada unto his shoulder as he shifted his relaxed weight and flicked his headband, “You all, are you sure you want to die?” He was boiling to lurch at them but it was courteous to give a weak opponent chance to surrender, Kisame could be that patient.

“You will regret this, shinobi!” one that seemed to be their captain charged with a roar that carried through his thoroughly frightened troupe.

Kisame swung liberally, scarcely feeling the weight of men as Samehada tore and smashed their bodies away, draining their entirety of chakra in a single touch. They died from sudden chakra exhaustion as much as trauma from gutted stomachs, punctured lungs and ripped limbs.

The advantage of their towers quickly proved itself as their forces replenished almost as quickly as Kisame mowed them down with cackling precision. Twenty, forty, sixty corpses laid dead, soaking Kisame and staining the street in blood. Samehada rumbled for more.

Kisame lurched forward and swung through a clutch that had begun to flee, he dashed back to the foes still roaring fear, terror and rage as they charged to certain death. Kisame danced through the city as bells rung, alarm singing through the air alongside a salvo of flaming arrows that descended on his head.

He dashed, stepped and batted the paltry things away but widened his eyes as dozens of the fallen and dodged arrows ignited, the distinctive red lining of paper bombs wrapped around the stem brought some heartbeat to the dull battle up till now.

Engulfed by the explosion, Kisame sauntered out of the smoke screen, part of his tactical gear was blown apart enough for the skin underneath to be glimpsed. He’d lost an entire sleeve to the explosion but it simply made it easier for Samehada’s tail to snake up his arm, fuelling him with the chakra of his slaughtered foes.

He grinned up at the roofs and leapt to bring the ingenious archers the same doom but an armoured man, a Samurai met him mid-air. He delivered a timely kick to Kisame’s shoulders, refreshingly powerful enough to thunder a spike of pain in the offended part as he crashed back to the blood burnt crater he walked out of.

The Samurai landed on a rooftop, glaring down at Kisame as he drew his blade, “So Kirigakure has seen fit to join, hmph, no matter, the war is almost done, another month and your Kage will be bowing to the true Daimyo, Tetsuya-sama!”

Kisame got up but even as he did yet another Samurai landed beside the first, he grinned up at both, “You two are you Named?”

They regarded him with disgust, their colours and clan flags intricately designed along their armour and inscribed on the very blades they wielded. The one that kicked Kisame said, “I am Kato of the Water Dragon style.”

“I am Shino, the Firebreather.”

Kisame rounded his shoulders, little pain remained from Kato’s kick to his chest but hopefully he’d give Kisame a fair challenge before dying, “I don’t know either one of you so you must be weak. You have only one chance to surrender, this is it.”

Kato and Shino shared a look before leaping down to approach Kisame with their blades drawn and their stances set, “You will know us well, shinobi.” Kato said causing Samehada to tremble in anticipation as Kato’s chakra visibly seeped into his blade.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy this.”