Seven days. Maybe eight. Time was a slippery thing in Orochimaru's lab, sliding through my liquid fingers like the chakra-laced fluid that held me. The lab stank of chemicals, stale chakra, and the faint rot of experiments left to fester. A dungeon playing dress-up as a science facility. I floated in the tank, naked except for the glowing blue seals pulsing at my wrists and chest like a heartbeat. They were my leash, chaining Suigetsu Hozuki's Hydrification Technique, keeping my watery body from slipping free. But I wasn't just floating. I was learning, probing, scheming.
"Again," I muttered, my voice warped in the dense liquid. I pushed a spark of chakra into my index finger, shaping it into a tiny, blade-like edge. The seals sizzled, and a jolt of pain ripped through me, like an overzealous taser. My limbs spasmed, but I held the form a split-second longer than yesterday. Progress. Pain was a teacher, and I was a quick study.
Suigetsu's powers were absurd—a walking water balloon packed with chakra and violence. Each test taught me something new: how to harden my hand into a dense spike, how to soften it into a writhing tendril, how to split a finger into droplets and reform it. "You think you've got me locked down, snake?" I whispered, smirking through the pain. "I'm just tuning the engine."
Myadvantage was meta-knowledge. I'd binged Naruto—anime, manga, even the filler arcs. I knew the timeline: Akatsuki's schemes, the Fourth Shinobi War, Kaguya's dumb bunny-god retcon. I knew the power scaling was a mess—early ninja tactics giving way to Naruto and Sasuke hurling moon-busting attacks while guys like Suigetsu got relegated to comic relief. And I knew Sasuke Uchiha was coming, ready to betray Orochimaru and recruit Suigetsu for his edgy Taka squad. I couldn't stand the guy—brooding, sociopathic, tossing allies like Karin aside when they weren't useful—but he was my ticket out. I'd play the part: snarky, blade-obsessed, loyal enough to follow. But it was temporary. My real goal? Kirigakure. I'd ride Sasuke's chaos, grab Kubikiribocho, and flip it into hero status in the Mist. A war hero's life—respect, a beach house, maybe some sake under the stars—beat the rogue ninja grind any day.
"Yeah," I said, closing my eyes, visualizing Kiri's foggy shores. "Next time I'm in a tank, it'll be a hot spring with drinks."
The Lab: A Serpent's Playground
The lab was a wound carved into the earth, a vast cavern lit by chakra lanterns that cast sickly green shadows on wet stone walls. Runes glowed faintly beneath layers of grime, like scars of forgotten jutsu. My tank sat at the center, a zoo exhibit for Orochimaru's twisted curiosity. Around me, tables were cluttered with glowing vials, half-burned scrolls, and shattered test tubes. I squinted, making out titles: Sealing Release: Variant D, Water Release: Pressure Lance. Tempting. If I could grab those before bolting, Kiri would roll out the red carpet.
The scientists were twitchy, overworked drones. The lead, a tall, bony guy with circular glasses too big for his face, fumbled his tools constantly. "Chakra fluctuations are still unstable," he muttered, adjusting the tank's seal input. His assistant, a woman with a scar across her jaw, snapped, "Then stop fidgeting and stabilize it, you idiot!" She slammed a scroll onto the table, ignoring the vial that rolled off and shattered. Sloppy. They barely checked the tank's containment failsafes, assuming the chakra crystal at its base was bulletproof. It wasn't. I'd noticed the crystal's glow flicker when the lab's power surged—half a second, enough to weaken the seals. Plan B, if Sasuke flopped. But I wasn't betting on a solo breakout. Too many guards, too many unknowns.
"Hey, Glasses," I called, my voice muffled but sharp. "You drop another syringe, Orochimaru's gonna turn you into a coat rack." He flinched, nearly dropping his clipboard. Scarface glared, but I just grinned, shark teeth glinting. Let them underestimate me. I was already planning my shopping list: scrolls, vials, maybe that sealed cabinet in the corner humming with chakra. Forbidden jutsu? Experimental tech? Whatever it was, it'd make a nice housewarming gift for the Mist.
Mastering Water: The Hozuki Legacy
While I waited, I trained. Hard. Hydrification wasn't just a gimmick—it was an art. My body was liquid mercury, held together by chakra and will. I could melt into a puddle, stretch into tendrils, or harden into blades. The tank's suppressors limited me, but I worked around them. I focused on my hand, shaping a dense spike, then a writhing whip. I pushed a chakra pulse, forming a tiny water jet that grazed the glass before a seal zapped me. "Ow, damn it," I growled, shaking off the sting. Each failure was a lesson, each success a step toward mastery.
Suigetsu's memories were my cheat sheet. They bubbled up like dream-echoes: a Kirigakure sparring match, my arm turning into a high-pressure jet to slice a log; dodging shuriken by melting mid-air, laughing; reforming behind a partner, my liquid hand at their throat. "Damn, you were good," I whispered, tightening a tendril into a rope. "But lazy. All talent, no grind." That's where I came in. My old life—cramming for exams, surviving on caffeine, forcing my brain to focus—gave me discipline. I drilled daily: chakra control, meditation, visualizing fights like a shinobi chess game.
"Hard Vortex Water Blade," I murmured, recalling Tobirama's technique. "High-speed \nHigh-speed spiral, stabilized with chakra—like a liquid drill." I wasn't Kisame, flooding deserts, or Naruto, yeeting city-level Rasenshurikens. The Naruto power scaling was a clown show, but I didn't need to be a demigod. I needed to be the best Suigetsu—Water Release, kenjutsu, and enough forbidden scrolls to make Kiri see me as a hero, not a deserter. Suigetsu's kenjutsu skills were in my muscles: the weight of Kubikiribocho, its chakra-draining edge singing through armor. I practiced the motions in my mind, swinging an imaginary blade, feeling its balance. With practice, I could rival Zabuza. Maybe even surpass him.
Chakra control was my weak spot. Suigetsu's reserves were solid, but his control was flashy, sloppy. I meditated, pushing chakra through my liquid form, mapping its flow. "Come on, focus," I muttered, ignoring a scientist's glance. I imagined fights: dodging Amaterasu by melting into mist, countering a taijutsu rush with a water clone, slicing a barrier with a chakra-infused blade. The war was coming, and I'd need every trick to come out a hero with a beach house, not a rogue on the run.
Sasuke's Arrival
The lab was quiet, the scientists on a rare break. I was shaping a water tendril when a spike of chakra hit me—cold, sharp, like a blade through fog. The air grew heavy, charged with killing intent. My shark teeth bared in a grin. "Showtime."
The door exploded, stone shattering as Sasuke Uchiha stepped through. Black cloak billowing, spiky hair casting shadows, Sharingan glowing red. His katana dripped blood—two guards lay dead outside, throats slit. Ruthless. He scanned the room, locking eyes with me. I leaned forward, grinning wider.
"Well, well," I drawled, Suigetsu's voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sasuke Uchiha, my knight in brooding armor. Took you long enough."
He didn't flinch, voice flat. "Suigetsu Hozuki. I'm getting you out."
"Oh, how generous," I said, tilting my head. "What's the catch, pretty boy? You don't strike me as the charity type."
His Sharingan spun faintly. "I'm forming a team. You're in, or you rot."
"Team, huh?" I laughed, sharp and mocking. "You mean minions for your revenge tour. Hard pass. But I'll bite if you get me my sword. Kubikiribocho. Orochimaru stashed it in another hideout. You know where, don't you?"
He paused, then nodded. "I do. Join me, and it's yours."
I grinned, shark teeth glinting. "Deal. Now bust me out before I get bored."
"Stay quiet," he said, placing a hand on the tank. His chakra flared, and the seals flickered, struggling. "This'll be loud."
"Loud's my style," I shot back, bracing myself.
Glass Cracks, Conversations Begin
CRACK. The tank split like ice, water surging out. I collapsed to my knees, coughing up fluid, my skin shimmering as I reformed. Before I could catch my breath, I looked up at Sasuke and grinned. "So… I'm guessing this isn't a date."
He stared, unamused. "You're Suigetsu. From the Hidden Mist."
"Formerly," I said, standing slowly, stretching my liquid joints. "You know how it is—joined a creepy science cult, got pickled like an exotic fish, now chatting with a guy who looks like he hasn't blinked in three years."
"You were Orochimaru's experiment," he said, ignoring my jab.
"Was. Past tense." I smirked, shaking off water. "Speaking of, you do know that snake freak won't like you breaking his toys, right?"
Sasuke's eyes hardened. "I killed him."
I blinked, feigning shock, then grinned. "Well, damn. That explains the murder-eyes. So, what's the deal? You building a squad or what?"
"I need people with skills," he said, turning toward the door. "You're first."
"First, huh?" I grabbed a scroll from a table—Water Release: Storm Barrage—and tucked it into my belt. "You must be desperate if you're recruiting tank ninjas."
He glanced back, annoyed. "You're either coming, or I find someone else."
I smirked, following. "You say that like there's anyone else who can handle Kubikiribocho."
He paused. "The Executioner's Blade?"
"Yup." I tilted my head, eyes glinting. "And I know you know where it is."
The Road to the Blade
We moved fast, too fast for my tank-weakened body, but pride kept me going. I wasn't stumbling in front of him. The hideout's tunnels were a maze of stone and traps, but my meta-knowledge guided us—hidden seals, collapsing floors, genjutsu wards. "Watch the left," I said, spotting a glowing rune. Sasuke blasted it with a fireball, shooting me a suspicious look. I just shrugged. "What? I pay attention."
I filled the silence with chatter, partly to annoy him, partly to sell the act. "So, we a squad? A team? A band of incredibly good-looking mercenaries?"
"No," he said, cutting down a guard mid-sentence.
"Okay, broody." I dodged a kunai, melting through it. "You always this talkative?"
"You always this annoying?" he snapped, Sharingan spinning.
I grinned. "Only when I'm awake."
The trail led to a bunker carved into the northern hills, another of Orochimaru's paranoid stashes. Traps everywhere—genjutsu, chakra seals, exploding tags. Good thing I remembered this place from Suigetsu's memories. "Let me handle the vault," I said, stopping Sasuke before he triggered a ward. "The lock's keyed to my chakra."
He watched, silent, as I pressed my hand to the stone. Symbols lit blue, pulsing with recognition. The seal clicked, and the door groaned open. Inside, among scrolls and weapons, was Kubikiribocho. Seven feet of cold, bloodthirsty steel, stained from a hundred kills. Zabuza's legacy. My inheritance.
"Damn," I muttered, stepping forward. "Still beautiful."
I grasped the hilt, its weight heavy but perfect, like a missing limb snapping back. Suigetsu's memories roared—swinging it through armor, draining chakra with each cut. I slung it over my shoulder, grinning. "Feel better?" Sasuke asked, voice flat.
"You ever have a sword you were emotionally attached to?" I shot back.
He didn't answer.
"Didn't think so," I said, smirking.
At Campfire's Edge
We stopped to rest, a small fire crackling between us. Sasuke stared into the flames, Sharingan dim but alert. I leaned back, hands behind my head, Kubikiribocho propped beside me. "So, you freed me because I'm useful," I said, voice light but probing. "Wow, that almost sounded like gratitude."
"Don't get used to it," he said, not looking up.
I sat up, serious for once. "Why are you doing this? Forming a team?"
He was quiet, then spoke, voice low. "You'll create a chance for me to kill Uchiha Itachi."
I raised an eyebrow, casual. "Straight to the point, huh? No dramatic speeches? No heartfelt trauma dump?"
"I don't need sympathy," he said flatly. "I need results."
I leaned forward, arms on my knees. "You're not asking us to fight him. Just to create an opening."
"I know what he's capable of," Sasuke said, eyes hard. "He's not alone. You'll make sure no one interrupts our fight. Then I kill him."
I was quiet for a second, then chuckled. "Damn. That's cold. I respect it."
"This isn't a friendship," he said, dead serious. "It's strategy."
I smirked, leaning back. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not looking to braid your hair and sing campfire songs. But if you want me to take a blade for you, I'll need more than vague promises and emo glares."
"You'll get your fight," he said, voice measured. "And your freedom. Help me kill Itachi, and after, you do what you want."
I grinned, satisfied. "Heh. Deal." I paused, then added, "But just so we're clear—if you die before that happens, I'm taking that sword of yours."
Sasuke's eyes flicked to me, almost amused. "Try."
"Oh, I like you," I said, laughing.
He didn't respond, but the silence felt like agreement. I let it sit, then said, "Well, I don't care about your revenge story, but I do care about cutting things in half. So I'm in."
His lips twitched, the barest flicker of a smirk. I leaned back, staring at the stars. Sasuke thought he was in charge, but I was already plotting my exit. Kirigakure. The Mist. A war hero's life, with all the perks and none of the rogue's baggage. Let him chase his ghosts. I was chasing freedom.