Akio's inner thoughts never reached Kisame, he was stopped halfway.
The one who blocked him was a middle-aged shinobi with the classic cold, expressionless face of a Kirigakure ninja. He held out his hand bluntly and demanded money.
Akio was immediately displeased. I'm not your ancestor why should I pay you anything?
"To receive the protection of the great lord, each person pays one million ryō."
Akio blinked. Only then did he notice that among Suikazan Fuguki's entourage were several civilians all decked out in gold and jewelry, clearly wealthy merchants.
A quick glance around confirmed it: there were plenty of shinobi here, but the other two members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen hadn't arrived yet.
"So that fat guy came early just to make some money, huh?" Akio thought to himself. Looking at the ninja demanding cash, he sighed inwardly. Can't believe I'm the one getting extorted for protection money.
The cold-faced shinobi grew impatient. "Either pay up, or get lost and wait to die."
Akio didn't get angry. The gap between their levels was too vast it was impossible for him to take offense at such rudeness.
He smiled. "No need to rush. A million ryō is no small sum. I'll wait a bit aren't there still two of the Seven Swordsmen who haven't arrived?"
The man gave him a look like he was staring at an idiot. "Those two lords are the ones fighting today."
Akio inhaled deeply. "Don't get angry. Don't get angry. He's beneath me. I won't get yeah, who am I kidding!"
The next moment, the ninja vanished, Akio had tossed him straight into a pocket dimension.
"Phew. That's better," Akio muttered, then immediately put on a panicked expression. "Ninja-sama? Where did he go?!"
The commotion drew the attention of Fuguki Suikazan, who waved his hand for Kisame to check it out.
"What happened?" Kisame asked, his shark-like tone already distinct, though still young and unrefined. To Akio, it was oddly nostalgic in the original world, Kisame's voice actor had always been one he admired.
Akio shook his head. "I don't know. That ninja-sama was collecting two million ryō from me, and right after I handed him the money, he just… disappeared."
Kisame's small eyes narrowed into dead-fish slits. He turned and went back to report to Fuguki.
"Two million ryō?! Damn it!" came a deep, angry roar. "Good thing he vanished before I saw him again!"
"My lord," another ninja spoke up, "Hassaku wouldn't deceive you. He probably meant to collect an extra fee for you that man's carrying a cat."
"Hmph! Don't defend him. If he wasn't hiding something, why would he disappear? He's likely fled the village already. Kisame, stay. The rest of you, go after him!"
"Yes, sir!"
Over the past decade, Kirigakure's "Bloody Mist" policies had caused many shinobi to defect. Seeing one more run off especially after robbing someone was nothing unusual. Two million ryō could easily fund a lifetime if spent carefully.
Fuguki's men disappeared into the distance, leaving only Kisame behind.
"My lord, what about that guy with the cat?" Kisame asked, glancing at Akio.
Akio waved cheerfully in return, making Kisame pause.
"Let him come along. One more won't matter."
And just like that, Akio openly blended into Fuguki Suikazan group of wealthy merchants.
As they moved, Kisame began explaining some rules and precautions for spectators. Akio nearly laughed out loud. So the fat guy really does provide service after taking money. At least he's professional about it.
"Did you remember everything?" Kisame asked.
Akio smiled. "Of course." (He had no idea what he'd just agreed to.)
Thankfully, this wasn't a classroom Kisame wasn't the type to make him repeat it out loud. Otherwise, that would've been awkward.
When Kisame turned to leave, Akio glanced at the rich merchants nearby. He wasn't interested in chatting with them.
"Hey, Shark-face kid! Don't go yet stay and chat a bit!"
Kisame froze. No one had ever called him that before.
"My name is Hoshigaki Kisame," he said flatly.
"Kisame? That's still a kind of shark, isn't it? Your parents must've named you after your face."
Kisame's eyes deadened further the true dead-fish stare and he ignored Akio, walking back toward Fuguki.
Hit a nerve, huh? Akio thought with amusement. This younger version of Kisame's got a very different temperament. The older one would've drawn his sword by now.
Time passed. More and more people filled the arena, including some civilians who, wisely, paid Fuguki for protection. By the end of the day, the man had probably pocketed close to twenty million ryō.
So the real path to wealth is extortion, huh? Akio mused, watching Kisame escort yet another merchant while solemnly explaining the "rules."
Then, the entire arena suddenly fell silent. Akio thought the main contenders had arrived and looked toward the entrance only to see a boy of about ten walk in.
That face looks familiar… Akio tilted his head. The kid wasn't carrying a cat, yet all eyes turned toward him anyway.
"Hey, Shark-face kid, who's that boy?" Akio asked with a grin.
"A remarkable junior," Kisame replied. His tone already strange carried a hint of amusement now, making Akio feel oddly uncomfortable.
"Don't be jealous," Akio teased. "You're already well-known in the village. Go somewhere else, and people will look at you the same way."
If Kisame's blue skin could darken, Akio was sure he'd be seeing a black shark right now.
"If you're that curious," Kisame said, "go say hello. See if he cuts you down. He just passed the graduation exam by killing every other student in his class."
Akio froze, glancing toward the boy again.
"Momochi Zabuza? Wait, didn't he have no eyebrows?"
No wonder he hadn't recognized him unlike Kisame, Zabuza didn't have such distinctive features. The only difference was that his eyebrows were thin, not completely gone.
Most people lose their hair as they age this kid's already lost his eyebrows? Akio snickered inwardly.
Zabuza's arrival drew attention for only a moment. Though the shinobi regarded him with respect, he was still just a freshly minted genin.
After he passed by, Akio turned his eyes back to the entrance, curious to see if anyone else familiar would appear.
Then, a boy around eleven or twelve entered his short, ight grayish-lavender hair unmistakable.
"Yagura? He's already this old?" Akio blinked. By his rough estimate, there were still more than ten years before Yagura's death in the original timeline and even then, he'd looked only thirteen or fourteen.
"A legitimate shota, huh," Akio murmured, then paused. Wait… that didn't sound quite right.
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