The place chosen for the Six—no, the Seven—Swordsmen of the Mist's dinner gathering—though there were only six of them today—was a small tavern selected by their eldest, Biwa Jūzō. It was obvious that Jūzō was a regular here. Even without a reservation, he effortlessly secured a large private room despite the crowd overflowing through the doors.
However,
among the six of them,
only Jūzō and Mizushiro were over twenty.
Kyoichi, Hōzuki Mangetsu, Ringo Ameyuri, and Momochi Zabuza were all still underage. In the end, only Jūzō and Mizushiro were allowed to drink freely, while the rest lifted juice cups to join in the atmosphere. The gathering continued until past eleven at night before everyone finally dispersed.
At the tavern entrance, they said their goodbyes and headed home.
Although Jūzō and Mizushiro had more than a few drinks, both immediately rejected the offer to be walked home. Kyoichi watched Jūzō's departing back for a while, confirming that the man could indeed walk straight on his own. When he turned to glance at the opposite end of the street, Mizushiro's figure had already disappeared.
"You care about that green-haired guy a lot, don't you?"
Ringo Ameyuri looked at Kyoichi curiously.
"I keep feeling there's something off about him."
"Off?"
"Yeah. Compared to everyone else… there's this strange, subtle sense of difference."
"…Actually, that green-head's aura is weird. It feels like someone who's about to die."
"…Huh?"
Kyoichi froze.
He only felt Mizushiro was a bit unusual, but never to the extent of cursing the man's death.
"I'm not lying. That green-head really gives off a scent like a dead person. But he's clearly alive, which is why… it feels like someone right on the edge of dying." Ameyuri spoke with complete seriousness.
"...The smell of the dead?"
Kyoichi frowned, thinking.
He still couldn't make sense of it. The best he could do was chalk it up to some strange secret technique.
"Don't forget our agreement. Give me a few days. Once I've mastered the Kiba—I'll come find you."
Ameyuri's voice pulled Kyoichi out of his spiraling thoughts.
"Come anytime. I'll be waiting."
Kyoichi turned to the girl and reaffirmed his promise.
"Good."
A satisfied smile curved across Ameyuri's lips, revealing a few sharp fangs. "I'm heading home. See you."
With that,
she turned and left, clean and decisive.
Kyoichi remained standing there, watching her silhouette fade from view.
By now, he was alone at the tavern door. Hōzuki Mangetsu and Momochi Zabuza had left around the same time as Jūzō, but they all lived in different directions. They'd split up along the first half of the street.
"Mizushiro… that indescribable strangeness… the aura of the dead."
Kyoichi's brows furrowed slightly.
Suddenly,
a bold thought surfaced in his mind.
Could it be… that Mizushiro was already under Uchiha Madara's control? No, impossible. If someone were trapped in a genjutsu, their chakra flow would show abnormal fluctuations. Even the Uchiha couldn't break that rule. Mizushiro's chakra flow had been completely normal.
"…Forget it. I'll just observe for now."
After hesitating a moment, Kyoichi gave up the idea of tailing Mizushiro tonight.
After all,
whatever secrets Mizushiro had, he was now a member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. They would be acting together for a long time. Plenty of time to investigate.
Besides, even if Mizushiro was under Madara's control—so what?
It wouldn't affect the Koeda Clan.
Even when the Fourth Mizukage was controlled, the ones who suffered were mostly background-less civilian ninjas. Kisame's eventual defection had been the result of Obito personally manipulating events. After all, the Hoshigaki clan was no minor family in Kirigakure.
And Kyoichi himself…
didn't dislike the thrill and danger of dancing on a sword's edge.
He turned around,
and headed home.
He faintly felt he had forgotten something, but whatever it was, it didn't seem important. He quickly tossed the thought aside.
---
Northeast Kirigakure
Mizushiro staggered through the streets with the swaying steps of a drunk, wobbling his way back to his studio apartment. But the moment he stepped through the door, the drunkenness vanished. His footsteps became steady as he crossed the entryway—and immediately spotted a pale, human-shaped figure sprawled limply across his sofa like a dead dog.
At the same time Mizushiro saw the figure, the figure saw him.
"Yo, Afu. How'd it go?"
The White Zetsu on the sofa sat up and greeted him.
"Everything went smoothly."
Mizushiro replied, then added, "And stop calling me that name. I'm Mizushiro now. Don't expose me."
"Fine, fine! Afu—no, Mizushiro!"
White Zetsu nodded cheerfully, then continued, "So that means Kirigakure's going to send people to Konoha soon, right?"
"The Kiri intends to ransom back the prisoners Konoha captured. To settle things quickly, they'll send envoys in a week. The newly chosen Seven Ninja Swordsmen will act as escorts. I've seized the Shibuki—so I'll be one of them. Make sure you report this to Lord—immediately. See if he wants to use this opportunity."
Mizushiro instructed.
"Of course! I'll report it as soon as possible."
White Zetsu answered.
Interestingly,
though they both referred to "Lord," neither mentioned the name.
"Oh right, Afu-Mizushiro, how was the taste of the alcohol?" White Zetsu stood, circling around him curiously like a dog sniffing for clues.
"Stop wasting time. Go make your report."
Mizushiro couldn't be bothered with this physically weak counterpart. He turned into the bathroom, knelt over the toilet, and began vomiting out all the alcohol and food he'd consumed. Since their bodies lacked any digestive or excretory systems, they could only expel things the way they entered.
Strictly speaking,
their bodies were essentially immortal—they didn't need food at all.
But,
living among humans, refusing to eat or drink would be far too suspicious. So… this method was the only way to maintain the disguise.
"…Tch. Fine. Don't tell me then."
White Zetsu muttered in the living room when Mizushiro ignored him. With a twitch of his body, he sank straight into the floorboards and disappeared from the apartment.