Chapter 22: Old Ghosts, New Scars
The Mizukage's office was, for a change, peaceful. Sunlight streamed through the large window, illuminating the swirling mist that clung to the valleys of Kirigakure. Mei Terumi sat behind her desk, reviewing mission reports, a small, weary sigh escaping her lips. Opposite her, the ever-vigilant Ao was in the middle of a familiar, and ultimately futile, lecture.
"And another thing, Gin!" Ao said, his voice stern, pointing an accusatory finger. "Your requisition for a thousand rubber ducks for 'tactical aquatic diversions' is not only absurd, it's an insult to this village's budget!"
Gin Ichimaru, who had been lounging casually on a nearby couch, offered a closed-eye smile. "Now, now, Ao-san. Don't be so quick to dismiss unconventional art forms. Imagine the enemy's confusion. It'd be priceless."
"This is a military force, not a comedy troupe!" Ao huffed, his visible eye twitching in annoyance.
Mei massaged her temples. This was a daily occurrence. Gin's relentless, infuriating teasing and Ao's predictable, sputtering outrage. It was, in its own strange way, a sign of the peace they had fought so hard to achieve.
Suddenly, Gin stopped.
His lazy, relaxed posture vanished. He sat up straight, his smile still in place, but it was now a thin, sharp line. The playful atmosphere in the room evaporated, replaced by a sudden, chilling stillness.
Mei looked up, her senses on high alert. "Gin? What is it?"
He didn't answer immediately. He just tilted his head, as if listening to a distant, familiar song. Then, for the first time in months, his eyes slowly opened.
Ao and Mei both froze. It was a rare and deeply unsettling sight. Gin's bright, sky-blue eyes were not the eyes of a prankster. They were the eyes of a predator that had just caught the scent of a rival hunter. They were sharp, analytical, and utterly devoid of warmth. This was the Ghost of the Mist. He was getting serious.
"Well now," Gin said, his voice a soft, dangerous purr. "Look what the tide washed in." He stood up, stretching languidly like a cat. "Sorry to cut our little chat short, Mizukage-sama, Ao-san." He gave them a theatrical little wave. "I have an old friend to go and greet."
Before either of them could respond, he flickered and vanished, leaving only the faint scent of ozone in his wake.
Mei and Ao exchanged a worried glance.
'An old friend...' Mei thought, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach. 'Gin doesn't have friends. He has... history.'
---
High on the misty cliffs overlooking Kirigakure, two figures in black cloaks adorned with red clouds stood surveying the village.
"So this is where you crawled out from, Kisame-san," Itachi Uchiha stated, his voice calm and observational.
Kisame Hoshigaki grinned, his shark-like features splitting his face. "Hmph. It's a lot less bloody than I remember. Almost disappointing." Samehada, wrapped in bandages, twitched on his back as if it could sense the proximity to its former home.
A light, almost musical voice drifted up from the mist behind them.
"My, my. It's been a while, Kisame-kun."
Both Akatsuki members spun around. Gin Ichimaru was leaning against a damp rock, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his ever-present smile fixed on his face. He looked as if he had been waiting there all day.
"Seijuro," Kisame greeted, the old name a gruff acknowledgment of their shared past.
"It's Gin now," he corrected smoothly. "I decided the old me was a bit too serious for my tastes."
Itachi's hand remained in his sleeve, his expression unreadable. But his mind was already racing, cross-referencing the figure before him with the information in his Bingo Book. S-Rank. 'Ghost of the Mist.' Treat as Kage-level threat. This will be troublesome.
Kisame's grin widened. "You still have that same creepy smile, I see. It's just as unsettling as I remember."
"And you're still as charming as a bucket of dead fish, Kisame-kun," Gin retorted without missing a beat. "Some things never change." He pushed himself off the rock, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "I must say, I didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face around here again. Not after that little... mess you made. Slaughtering your own comrades... tsk tsk. So messy."
Kisame's smile vanished, replaced by a deep, brooding frown. The memory was a festering wound. "Nerve?" he snarled, his voice low and guttural, dripping with venom. "I spilled blood for Kirigakure's secrets, comrades, friends, all sacrificed to protect this village's so-called honor. And for what? To find out my master, Fuguki, was selling us out to the enemy, a snake hiding behind loyalty." His grip tightened on Samehada's hilt, the blade humming faintly as if mirroring his rage. "I gutted him for his lies. This world, this village, is a cesspool of deceit, built on betrayal. You call me a traitor? At least the Akatsuki doesn't dress its goals in pretty lies. We're honest about what we are: monsters forging a new world, one where liars like you drown in their own filth."
"Is that so?" Gin said, his smile returning, sharp and predatory. "An honest man in a den of thieves. How noble of you." He tilted his head. "So, what grand, 'honest' objective brings the Mist's most famous monster back home? Don't tell me you're here to pay your respects to the new Mizukage."
Kisame scoffed. "We're not here for her. Our target is the Three-Tails Jinchuriki. We're here for Yagura"
Gin's smile didn't waver, but his sky-blue eyes opened, and this time they were locked directly onto Kisame, a chilling, analytical light dancing within them.
"Ah, Yagura," Gin mused, his tone dripping with false sympathy. "Poor fellow. It must be so inconvenient for you now that he's no longer a mindless puppet." He let the statement hang in the air for a moment before his smile sharpened into something far more dangerous. "Or perhaps... you've simply come to collect a tool you've lost control of? I always did wonder who was holding his strings. An organization that collects Tailed Beasts seems like a prime suspect, wouldn't you agree?"
Itachi's expression remained neutral, but a flicker of something passed through his Sharingan. The man before them was not just powerful; he was dangerously perceptive. He had just connected the Bloody Mist era to the Akatsuki's current goals with unnerving accuracy.
Kisame's hand tightened on the hilt of Samehada. "You talk too much."
"Do I?" Gin purred, his smile widening. "I think I've said just enough." He took a step to the side, positioning himself between them and the path down to the village. "Unfortunately for you, Yagura is a critical asset to the new Kirigakure. I'm afraid I can't let you have him."
Tbc