…
After walking out of the office, Kisame Hoshigaki frowned slightly.
According to his memories, the Third Great Ninja War would break out within the next two or three years. During that period, Uchiha Madara — operating under the alias "Madara" but in truth, Tobi/Obito — orchestrated the kidnapping of Nohara Rin, implanted the Three-Tails Isobu into her body, and used her as a tool to spread destruction among Konoha forces. At that time, Kirigakure had already fallen under his secret control.
This implied that the Yondaime Mizukage, Yagura Karatachi — the man he had just seen in the office — was most likely already under the influence of the Mangekyō Sharingan's genjutsu.
The very existence of that old specter, Uchiha Madara, made Kisame acutely aware that he needed to tread even more cautiously. But at the same time…
He remembered the gourd-shaped war fan with six tomoe next to "Banana Man".
The Uchiha's Flame Fan — the Gunbai.
A weapon passed down through generations of the Uchiha clan, said to be forged from a fragment of the sacred tree. Its body was both rigid and flexible, able to repel and deflect all ninjutsu, earning its reputation as a legendary artifact.
The Gunbai was undoubtedly a real treasure, and Kisame found it hard not to covet it.
In addition to the remaining six ninja swords, he now added the Gunbai to his goals in Kirigakure.
Kisame was a patient predator, someone who excelled at lying in wait.
Such men eventually seize the right moment — and take everything they desire.
After passing through a long corridor, Kisame arrived at the first-floor lobby of the Mizukage Tower.
This was Kirigakure's mission assignment center. At this hour, a steady stream of shinobi came and went, the air filled with the hustle and bustle of clanking gear and clashing tempers.
The moment Kisame appeared, his bandaged and blood-stained form drew immediate attention. The lively hall grew quieter.
Many stared at the injured young genin, whispering — had he survived his last mission due to sheer luck, or had he fled, abandoning his comrades to die?
If it were the latter… no one would ever want to team up with him again.
But Kisame didn't care about the rumors swirling around him.
He strode steadily toward the exit, brushing past the curious crowd. But then, he caught sight of two familiar faces.
One of them, about his age, had been his classmate at the Academy.
Long, wavy, reddish-brown hair, turquoise eyes, full pink lips, and a precocious aura accentuated by subtle makeup.
Terumi Mei.
The future Fifth Mizukage, a leader who would eventually end the Bloody Mist era and usher in a new age of diplomacy and openness for the Hidden Mist. A strong, wise, and captivating kunoichi.
Though they had attended classes together, Kisame and Mei weren't close — mere acquaintances.
Still, Terumi Mei gave him a nod of acknowledgment when their eyes met.
Beside her stood a much shorter, younger kunoichi with two thick braids rising like antennae.
She grinned at Kisame, exposing her sharp, fanglike teeth.
Ringo Ameyuri.
One of the future Second Generation Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. Known as the Lightning Style Prodigy, she would master the dual-blade Kiba to terrifying effect — though her life would be tragically short due to illness.
Ringo leaned up to whisper something to Mei, mischief glinting in her eyes. Judging from her expression, she likely said something snarky about Kisame.
Little did she know, the Lightning Fang Blades she would one day wield had already been consumed by Kisame's body — transformed into one of his tails.
If she knew that, she might cry.
Kisame didn't stop. He passed them without a word and exited the Mizukage Tower.
His plan now was to lie low, get home, recover, and slowly start targeting the remaining swords.
But fate doesn't always go according to plan.
Just a few steps outside the building, Kisame found his path blocked.
His adversary: Kurokawa — a tall, brutish-looking Chūnin from the village.
Not long ago, during a patrol mission, Kurokawa had been assigned as Kisame's temporary superior. He abused that power, humiliating Kisame every chance he got — until Kisame retaliated and flattened him with a single punch.
That humiliation festered in Kurokawa like rot.
Now that he'd heard Kisame was injured, he leapt at the opportunity. He'd brought four allies and was ready to settle the score.
Kirigakure was a far cry from Konoha.
Where Konoha held up the "Will of Fire" and unity — at least in appearance — Kirigakure thrived under the savage banner of the "Bloody Mist."
Here, strength ruled. The law of the jungle reigned. Personal vendettas were settled openly — fists first, questions never.
In such a village, fighting in the streets wasn't scandalous. It was tradition.
So when the standoff began, no one tried to stop it. Quite the opposite — a crowd quickly gathered to watch.
Among them were Terumi Mei and Ringo Ameyuri.
Terumi Mei frowned. Though born and raised in Kirigakure's isolation, she had grown increasingly unsettled by the growing bloodlust in her village. She worried that its people were becoming too cruel, too lost in their thirst for conflict.
After all, "simple customs" often masked brutality and ignorance.
In contrast, Ringo Ameyuri was practically bouncing with excitement. She joined the crowd in chanting for a fight.
But no one expected what happened next.
Faced with five armed enemies, Kisame's face turned solemn. Then, he bowed his head and said:
"I'm sorry. I apologize. Please let me go."
And with that, he bowed at a full ninety degrees before Kurokawa.
A man must be able to bend so he can one day strike.
Kisame understood that now was not the time to fight.
He was injured, still recuperating, and couldn't afford to reveal his trump card — the Sharktail Lightning Whip — in public.
Fighting here would be suicide.
So he bowed. Accepted humiliation. Lived to fight another day.
His act stunned Kurokawa and disgusted the crowd.
In the village of blood, a shinobi who bowed like this was worse than a coward — he was a disgrace.
Kurokawa, however, wasn't satisfied.
He grinned wickedly and barked: "If you're really sorry, prove it! Get on your knees and crawl through my legs. Do that, and we're square."
Then he spread his legs wide.
The crowd gasped. Even for Kirigakure, this was overkill.
No one — no one — could accept such a dehumanizing act.
Terumi Mei stepped forward, unable to bear it. She believed that, as shinobi of the same village, there had to be limits.
But before she could intervene, Kisame spoke again.
"Kurokawa-kun… are you serious?" he asked in a low, calm voice, a glint of sharpness flashing in his eyes.
Kurokawa grinned. "You think I'm joking? Do it. Come on."
And to the shock of everyone, Kisame knelt.
He lowered his head, placed his palms to the ground, and began to crawl.
Boos and jeers erupted.
"Pathetic!"
"Kirigakure's shame!"
But one person was intrigued.
A bandaged young man with dead eyes and a presence that made the air go cold — Momochi Zabuza.
He folded his arms, watching Kisame with amusement.
Just a year ago, Zabuza had slaughtered over a hundred classmates during the Academy's final exam, forcing the village to finally abandon the gruesome practice of graduation-by-murder.
Though still a genin, no one underestimated the Demon of the Hidden Mist.
Back in the Academy, Kisame had been a year ahead of him — someone Zabuza had once viewed as a rival.
Now, seeing Kisame grovel like this only made him sneer.
But Kisame wasn't finished.
As he crawled beneath Kurokawa's legs, he listened to the man's laughter — and struck.
In a blur, he flipped onto his back, braced his shoulders to the ground, bent his knees —
And launched a double kick straight into Kurokawa's groin.
CRACK.
The sound echoed across the plaza like breaking glass.
Kurokawa's laugh turned to a silent scream. His eyes bulged, blood vessels burst in his sclera, and he collapsed like a sack of rocks.
Clutching his ruined pride, he foamed at the mouth and passed out cold.
He would never be the same again.
Not physically.
Not mentally.
And certainly not reproductively.