Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13618962.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Naruto
  Relationship:
      Hidan/Jashin_(Naruto)
  Character:
      Hidan_(Naruto), Jashin_(Naruto), OC_-_Character, Original_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Violence, Blood_and_Gore, Self-Mutilation, Self-Harm, Self-Insert, Evil
      MC, Torture, Psychological_Torture, Sadism, Rape/Non-con_Elements,
      Underage_Rape/Non-con, Anal_Sex, Vaginal_Sex, Oral_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-08 Updated: 2018-03-26 Chapters: 4/? Words: 23623
****** Have Scythe, Will Travel ******
by Notsae
Summary
     After Hidan's live burial, Jashin decides she doesn't like him enough
     to save him and caches in a favour with the apathetic god of time;
     allowing her to go back to the moment she chose him and replace him.
     I'm more than happy to take his place; after all, who wants to be a
     hero, eh? Villainy is far more fun.
***** Chosen *****
Chosen


Waking up already walking is a rather jarring experience; so jarring, in fact,
that I nearly fell flat on my face. Luckily I had a staff to catch myself on
and didn't wind up with the first moments of my new life being an impromptu
make out session with a dirt road.


I wasn't really surprised to see the “staff" I had used to prop myself up was
actually a tri-bladed scythe. See, I knew exactly where I was and how I got
here. Jashin wasn't too happy with Hidan going out like a dumbass bitch, nor
did she particularly like the relationship they had.


Hidan never quite grasped what being Jashin’s champion meant. It wasn't like a
normal worshipper; they offer prayers and sacrifices and in exchange are given
a limited form of immortality and sometimes some extras based on the amount of
sacrifices offered up. Jashin’s champion on the other hand was a much more
intimate  relationship; closer and more personal, not  just  sexual.


See, every god chooses a champion, and when they do they can't help but fall in
love with them, no matter how much such a tender emotion clashes with their
nature. As the god of murder, violence, war, pain, chaos, death, torture, rape,
etcetera Jashin naturally chose the strongest and most prolific of her
followers; Hidan just managed to steal that title by massacring Yugakure.


Unfortunately for him Jashin realized after his live burial that she didn't
like him enough to save him; so she cashed in a favour with the ever uncaring
god of time to go back to the moment she chose him and make a different choice.
She rather quickly realised that she'd never get the relationship she wanted
from the sycophantic morons that worshipped her and decided to branch out,
snatching me from a hospital wing and offering a deal. See, I was just the
right kind of monster she was looking for; amoral and generally uncaring whilst
still capable of forming bonds. I had never become a killer simply because I
thought it wasn't worth the effort and whilst I could abandon friendships as
easily as choosing what to have for breakfast, I still did care while they
lasted. My disdain for authority told her I wouldn't turn into a sycophant, my
capacity to care told her the relationship she wanted was possible, and my
amoral nature told her I wouldn't have a problem getting her sacrifices.


The fact that a god of slaughter considered me good boyfriend material was
mildly concerning; though I couldn’t really say I was that upset.


Waking up in Hidan’s body was a bit of a surprise; the fact that he was mid
step when I replaced him made me think I may be getting pranked.


“I swapped your souls at the exact moment I chose him as my champion.” And that
would presumably be Jashin herself.  “Indeed, my champion.” And she can read my
mind…  lovely . No really, having absolutely no privacy is really good for the
old mental health.


I smirk, hefting my shiny new scythe on my shoulder, “Meh, sanity is for the
weak.” I turned around, intent on robbing the village “I” just massacred; Hidan
may have been content with his single jutsu and no money but  I’m  certainly
not. Even a minor village like Yugakure has to have  some  techniques;
hopefully some Kinjutsu I can use my immortality to abuse the fuck out of!


Searching the blood streaked (wow, Hidan does  not  kill clean) streets of what
was ostensibly my home was mildly disturbing; I felt nothing but mild amusement
at all the mutilated bodies around me, but I still vaguely expected one to
attack me. The thought that technically  I  killed these people somewhat
bothered me; though not as much as it probably should have. I went from house
to house, shoving valuables and currency into a convenient sack I found in the
first house I searched. Having to lower myself to lugging around a burlap sack
full of goodies like a common thug made me place learning sealing on my
priorities list; besides, who knows what kind of crazy tricks I could pimp out
my scythe with if I figured out sealing!


A rising pillar of smoke led me to a section of Yugakure I decided to loot
quickly (can’t let the fire steal all the swag now can I?). Upon seeing what
exactly was on fire I nearly sank to my knees in a puddle of ash and blood.


Turns out, Yugakure  did  have a library… until Hidan burned it down. I rushed
into the glorious institution of knowledge collection, trusting in my Jashin
granted immortality to get me out alive; I simply couldn’t let all that
knowledge just burn away! Only a couple of scrolls managed to survive, most of
them were basic chakra control exercises and a rare few mostly intact jutsu,
but nothing advanced or unique.


Dejected, I headed to the Kage tower; if I’m lucky my bodies former (and
totally unworthy) owner won’t have bothered burning the forbidden scroll or the
Kage’s personal library.  I know basic techniques are still things I need to
learn, but damn was it demoralising to see all that literature just dissolve
into ashes before my eyes.


Normally robbing a Kage tower would not be an easy task by any stretch of the
imagination for anyone below S-rank; thankfully this one came pre-slaughtered!
The conveniently smashed open (and blood splattered) door did nothing to bar my
passage into the gore streaked interior of the former head of this nation’s
governance. Seeing a half liquified body stuck to a wall by its own drying
blood and entangled intestines as I walked up the stairs was a bit of a novel
experience; luckily putrefaction hasn’t set in enough for the wretched smell to
violate my nose (much like the pens jammed into the apparent secretary’s nose
and rammed into the brain with skull cracking force).


I searched around the Yukage’s office, noting the distinct lack of Yukage in
the room. I found a bunch of paperwork that told me very clearly that this town
was a bit of a shithole even before Hidan (I?) decided to redecorate a bit; no
wonder they were switching to a tourism based economy if the whole ninja
business was going down in a flaming zeppelin like these reports suggested.


Eventually I got bored of looking for secret triggers to open secret
passageways and just began slashing at the wall with my giant fuck off scythe,
which proved much more effective… and taught me just how hard it would be to
effectively wield a scythe as a primary weapon (first chance I get I’m
sharpening the top of each blade). The third wall I eviscerated proved to have
been false and revealed a beautiful, virgin library all for me!


I didn’t bother reading more than a few titles before shoving every last scroll
into a second sack I had kept just for stealing scrolls and books. Moving at
ninja speeds (thank Jashin I didn’t have some period of adjustment for the
shiny new body) it only took me a few minutes to collect every scroll in the
small library, and less time to find the false wall near the back. Stepping
through the door, I smirked at the massive scroll sitting on a pedestal in the
middle of the room; this is the  real  reason I came back here.


I tentatively approach, searching for traps the whole way and being very
surprised to find none (though, judging by Naruto’s ease with stealing Konoha’s
equivalent, perhaps I shouldn’t be). I slowly unfurled the scroll, and smiled.


Being a small village, I wasn’t surprised that Yugakure didn’t have much in the
way of forbidden techniques; but Kakuzu stealing the Jiongu from Taki told me
that Yu might have something of value. I was glad I bothered checking; this
scroll contained little, mostly just suicide techniques (that I made a mental
note to go over considering my immortality made such techniques viable); but
what the Yukage considered worth banning that wasn’t suicidal made me grin.
This confirmed a theory I had held for a long time; non-physical bloodlines are
bullshit.


Within the large scroll was the instructions for learning the Boil Release
without possessing the bloodline. Based on the details, the techniques were
developed when a Jonin decided that he should honour his village by designing
techniques that used hot water. He succeeded; but then he decided to push it
further, and accidentally utilized the Boil Release. The Yukage of his time,
upon seeing this, immediately forbade him from using it and labeled it a
forbidden technique; apparently he feared the Terumi clan would come and cull
their village if they discovered that their techniques were being stolen. As
both an immortal and a rogue; I couldn’t give less of a fuck what a near
extinct clan thought about me stealing their techniques. In fact, I intended to
use this primer on mixing elements to learn  all  the sub-elements; maybe even
make some new ones.


People underestimated Hidan as the weakest of the Akatsuki; they weren’t
entirely wrong. Amongst the Akatsuki Hidan was by far the weakest; but he was
S-rank for a reason and it wasn’t just his immortality. His weapon was deadly
and unique, designed to be very difficult to block without receiving damage;
and he wielded the cumbersome weapon masterfully. Many claimed it was his lack
of intelligence that made him weak; I disagree, his easy understanding of
unfamiliar jutsu showed a high intelligence. No, what always held Hidan back
was arrogance and a lack of techniques. If he hadn’t been blinded by his
arrogance he may have actually trained, utilizing his incredible durability to
push himself further than most. If he hadn’t relied so heavily on the single
technique he used he may have been a serious threat to a great many people.


A maniacal grin spread across my face as equally twisted laughter crawled
between my teeth; with this I could propel myself into the true upper echelons.
With my immortality I could push my body to limits most couldn’t ever reach in
training, without Hidan’s arrogance I could see just how useful versatility and
trickery was. Warfare is deception, after all.


I gently set the large scroll into my second sack amongst its brethren before
turning to leave; whistling a merry tone the whole way. I wasn’t here to save
people, couldn’t care less for peace and global happiness. I’m a very selfish
man; I’m here for my own entertainment and to save myself. Leave all that hero
shit for the dull masses; villainy is far more fun. The terms Jashin gave me in
exchange for coming here were simple; be her champion. She had gone on to
explain what that meant; all of my kills count as sacrifices to her (and I was
strongly encouraged to provide as many as possible) and I need to have a close
relationship with her. I was more than happy to accept; immortality and all I
need is to be friends with a murder god? Hell yeah.


Something caught my gaze as I walked out and I turned toward the large window
in the Kage’s office. For a moment I stared at the moonlit village,  looking
for any sign of what caught my attention. I almost turned away before I saw it;
movement. Someone or something was moving through the shadowed streets.


I frowned, it wasn't impossible some animal had come from the surrounding
forest, or perhaps a pet got free (I have no idea if Hidan killed them along
with the humans) but somehow I doubted it. The possibility that that flicker of
movement in the shadows was a shinobi (either returning from a mission or sent
by another nation) was too high to ignore.


“It is likely a shinobi.” How exactly did she know  that , now?  “I can sense
violence and purveyors of it; shinobi drip with blood, no matter how hard they
try to scrub it off.” Huh, I have a built in sensory ability not based on
chakra like Naruto… good to know. Wonder what else being Jashin’s champion came
with?


I shook my head; now isn't the time to be experimenting with my abilities. My
frown twisted into a scowl; I have no idea what rank Hidan was, but  I  have no
training or combat experience whatsoever. I  could  try to sneak out but I
highly doubt my stealth skills were good enough to evade anyone a village
considered competent enough to send on a solo mission.


My lips turned up in a vicious grin, “Well, a crucible of fire it is.” At least
I had the handicap of immortality to fall back on if things (inevitably) went
to shit. I turned away from the window, taking my time to walk outside and
doing nothing to hide my presence; I wanted them to find me.


I wasn't disappointed; I had barely took a step out of the Kage tower when a
figure in dark clothes and a vaguely owl shaped mask appeared before me.
“Hidan-san!” They called, “Did you see what happened?”


I shrugged, unintentionally drawing attention to the bags I held slung over my
shoulder if the way their yellow eyes darted to it was anything to go by;
evidently their mask was meant to be ironic if it took them this long to notice
such an obvious detail. I smirked as their eyes narrowed, “Nah, I just got here
a little before you.” Technical truth; the best kind of truth.


Disdain was simply dripping off them, “Hmph, always knew you were the
opportunistic sort but I never thought you’d stoop so low as to rob your
neighbors during a crisis.” Apparently he still hadn’t noticed the blood
splattered on my clothes; either that or he thought I got it while I was
looting. Not the sharpest hammer on the tree is he?


My smirk grew, “Neighbors?” I asked faux-innocently, “What neighbors?”


Narrowed eyes widened in shock as he took a stumbled half-step back, “Wh-what
do you mean!” There was anger in his voice, barely masking the confusion and
fear.


My smirk turned to a sadistic grin, “Did you think there were survivors?
Yugakure’s dead, boy; along with everyone in it.” Was it my imagination or were
those tears in his eyes?


His posture screamed despair for a moment before shifting to rage, “You lying
piece of shit! When Yukage-sama gets here he’ll-”


I cut him off, “Oh, I’m  so  scared of what a corpse is gonna do to me for my
insubordination. I’m fairly certain the Yukage is resting in pieces a little
ways that way.” I jerked my head over his left shoulder.


He turned to look, exposing his back to me for a brief moment… and I ruthlessly
capitalized. Perhaps he heard the disturbance my scythe caused or perhaps he
merely expected my betrayal; regardless, he ducked under my scythe as it passed
through the air once occupied by his neck.


He whirled to face me as my massive blade passed over his head, pulling a kunai
from a pouch on his thigh as he turned. He snarled, flinging the short blade at
me. “Traitor!” he screamed, voice cracking from his shear rage.


I smirked, leaning my head to the side; letting the kunai pass me by in a move
I never would have been able to pull off in life. I watched with half-lidded
eyes as the probable Anbu leapt away to try to get distance. Pointless.


I whipped my scythe forward, letting go part way through the swing and using
the attached wire to use the blade like a flail. The crimson crescents sliced
through the air like a bird of prey, intent on skewering my prey. The more
experienced ninja’s reaction took me by surprise, though truly it shouldn't
have.


He stepped forward, stretching out his arm to catch my scythe well below the
deadly blades. My shock didn't last long and I yanked back on the wire,
wrenching the shaft from his grasp and slicing him near in half… or at least it
should have.


Rather than try to hold his ground and get minced, he let my (subconsciously
chakra enhanced) pull drag him to me. My eyes widened as he was carried along
with my blade; apparently I was stronger than I thought (and my bodies muscle
memories still existed).


I could see the empty satisfaction in his glowing eyes as he approached, a
kunai in hand. My eyes widened as I tossed my bags aside, going for a kunai of
my own only to find Hidan didn't have any (maybe people weren't to far off with
the stupidity theory). My wide and panicked eyes locked with his grimly smug
gaze as he grew closer.


His blade slipped into my throat just as my hand wrapped around the haft of my
scythe. I stumbled back, a hand flying to my throat as shock spread across my
face. Slowly I turned around, collapsing onto my scythe to keep my body from
falling.


The pain was incredible, though it had nothing on the disturbing sensation of
my lungs filling with blood. Even so, I couldn't keep the blood stained grin
from spreading across my face as I purposely directed my thoughts to Jashin,
“Can you tell how far away he is?”  I mentally asked. As an Anbu his footsteps
were far too quiet for my (mostly) untrained ears to detect.


“I can.” I could feel her pleasure at my asking for help; apparently Hidan
never did. Odd considering how much he revered Jashin.


“Then can you tell me when he’s in range?”  I projected an image of what I had
planned to her.


A moment passed in silence… then another…


“Now.”  Her voice was as calm and deranged as always.


I whirled, holding my scythe in a reverse grip. His skill showed even then; for
rather than the middle blade ramming through his side, the top blade carved a
deep gash across his chest.


I grinned, flinging the kunai once impaled in my throat at the man as he
stumbled back. Even taken by surprise and wounded he managed to redirect the
blade with the back of his hand.


My smirk returned as I scooped up a handful of the blood pouring from my
throat, tossing it on the ground before repeating the process a few more times.
I stepped on top of the puddles of blood, sliding my legs around to draw the
symbol of Jashin around me. It was rather crude compared to Hidan's work, but
Jashin assured me it was serviceable.


The injured Anbu stared at me in shock, “How the hell are you alive!?” he
shouted.


In lieu of answering I raised my scythe to my lips, licking some of the blood
from the longest blade with a gurgling laugh. As I swallowed the blood I
couldn’t feel anything change but I could see as my skin blackened and white,
bone like marks appeared.


“What the hell did you just do!” Not very cool under pressure this guy;
surprised he managed to make it into the black-ops division with that attitude.


I just laughed, the gurgling leaving as my regeneration kicked in to heal up my
throat. Slowly, I raised my scythe to my neck; a sadistic grin stretched across
my face as I gently pressed the blade into my flesh. “You cut my throat…” my
voice seemed to shock him into stillness, “Perhaps I should repay the favour?”
So saying I pulled my blade sharply to the side, cutting so deep into my flesh
I could feel it scrape my spine.


The agony was exquisite, like fire tearing away at my throat. Even with what
should be unbearable agony imposed on my inexperienced mind, I couldn't keep my
eyes off my opponent as my wound stretched across his neck. My pain seemed to
fade as Jashin settled more heavily over my mind; perhaps she was protecting me
from it, perhaps she was encouraging the development of masochistic tendencies
to match my sadistic ones.


“Both. Your life will be much easier if pain doesn't bother you and the rituals
will be more effective if it gives you pleasure…”  She trailed off for a moment
before haltingly continuing,  “I… do not enjoy seeing you suffer.” She seemed
honestly surprised by this revelation.


My smile gentled at her words before becoming all the more cruel as blood
spurted from the Anbu’s throat, splattering all over his shirt and the ground
before him as he sank to his knees. His hands shook as he raised them to his
throat, animal instincts desperate to stop the flow his mind knew couldn't be
halted. His breath came in desperate gurgles, blood filling lungs that hungered
for unreachable air. This wasn't like the movies, it took several minutes for
him to finally succumb to his wound, and his eyes were locked on mine for every
second of that time.


I laughed as the light slowly left his eyes, the sound growing all the more
maniacal as he teetered for a moment before collapsing fully to the blood
splattered earth. My laughter only grew louder and more psychotic as the
seconds ticked by; my whole body leaning back and shaking as my crackles split
the night. Tears streamed from my eyes as I repeatedly slammed my scythe into
the ground beside me; the shock and thrill of such a near death (my mind still
hadn't quite adapted to immortality) experience followed so quickly by my first
kill getting to me more than I thought it would.


Jashin had no words of comfort; I suspect she didn't know what was wrong,
couldn't understand how murder could mess with even the coldest of minds.  “I
have seen the effects of every conflict throughout all of history. Suffering is
my domain and I know all it's causes. I'm just more experienced at exploiting
weaknesses, not patching them up.” A long moment passed with only my hysterical
(and increasingly breathless) laughter to fill the void before she spoke again.
“I… want to help you… but I do not know how.” She finally admitted.


My laughter slowed to a stop and I wound up hunched over clutching my knees to
keep from falling; desperately sucking in air to appease burning lungs. “Heh...
heh… I suppose I’ll simply have to get used to this. At least it’s kinda fun.”
I muttered, slowly straightening out my stance. I shook my head rapidly, trying
to shake off the horror of my actions. “For now, Jashin; your intention is good
enough. Knowing someone, even a god of evil, still gives a fuck is comforting
in a way.” I felt her influence settle over my mind, dulling my emotions to a
degree. It felt like she was eating them, draining the pain away into herself.
A moment passed and I felt fine; my panic sucked away and replaced with my
underlying humour.


“Well that certainly helped; what exactly did you just do?” I questioned as I
walked over to the fallen nin (my first victim), flipping him over with my foot
(note to self; get boots). To my surprise he was still (barely) alive, his now
dull, sightless yellow eyes moving rapidly from side to side as if searching
for something. I frowned and stomped on his head, my bodies great strength
easily reducing it to so much paste.


“I found a way to help. I am the god of pain; I simply took yours away.”  
Makes sense, I suppose; it is one of her domains so why shouldn’t she be able
to control it? Shrugging and accepting her revelation, I began rifling through
the dead ninja’s pockets (immediately strapping his Kunai pouch to my own leg)
in search of anything useful or valuable.


My search uncovered several weapons (all of which I stole), a photo of what
appeared to be a small family (which I tossed on top of his smashed skull with
a snicker), and a Bingo Book. I smirked, flipping through the book for a time
(occasionally pausing on familiar names or interesting people) before finding a
circled image. I reached down and pulled off his crushed mask, thankful that my
impulsive execution hadn’t mangled his face as much as it could have. His face,
while smashed and perforated by the fragments of his shattered skull, was still
recognizably the same as the circled image.


My lips curled up, it seems my little Anbu was a touch prideful; he kept track
of his own bounty, seeming to be affronted by his relatively low stats and
bounty. I laughed, “Lucky me, I stumbled into my first bounty.” Hmm, bounty
hunting… a decent way of attracting Kakuzu’s attention whether he’s in the
Akatsuki yet or not.


Not to mention all the money I could make.


I picked the body up and tossed him into the air, catching him on my scythe and
leaning it against my shoulder before collecting my bags and strolling out of
the village as the fire from the library spread across the town; whistling a
merry tune as I went. Time to try and find a bounty station… and a good place
to train.


I stopped at the village gates, reaching up to grab my hitai-ate from around my
neck. Slowly I pulled the symbol of my affiliation from my neck, turning it
around to stare contemplatively at the scarred surface and crossed out symbol.
My eyes turn to the dead Anbu impaled through the chest on all three of my
blades, spotting his own untarnished hitai-ate strapped to his upper arm.


I never understood why missing-nin kept these or why black-ops agents would
wear one at all; wasn't the whole point of both that your not affiliated with
your village (at least officially in the case of black-ops) anymore? It
especially confused me that people like Hidan and Kakuzu would keep theirs when
both hated their villages and felt betrayed by them.


I glanced back at the ruins of Yugakure as they were slowly incinerated before
shoving my head band in my loot sack, pulling the Anbu’s from his arm and
shoving it in as well. It might be fun to start a collection and I'm sure the
headband of a now defunct village will be a rare piece to make other collectors
jealous.


I smirked and walked off into the dark.


_______________________________________________________


Hidan blinked awake, staring at the sterile white walls in confusion. Where was
he? A voice drew his gaze to a tall man in a lab coat checking over a
clipboard. He spoke in a unknown language, seeming to think Hidan understood
him. Is this a hospital? Hidan had never been in one, being immortal and all
(he usually just barred the doors and set them on fire when he was purging a
village).


A dark grin spread across the reborn mass murderer’s face as he slowly stood
up; ignoring the supposed doctor’s shocked gasp. He started babbling, gesturing
at the bed as Hidan pulled the tubes and wires from himself. The serial
killer’s grin widened as he pricked his finger on the I.V. needle.


The doctor’s increasingly frantic gesturing and calls are silenced as Hidan’s
hand wraps around his throat. “Rejoice, sinner! For I shall bring an end to
your fear with the love of Jashin-sama!”


So saying he plunged the needle into the doctor’s eye with a joyously psychotic
laugh.
***** Hidan: Bounty Hunter Extrordinaire *****
Chapter Notes
     This is the only warning I'm going to give; this story is fucked up.
     I wasn't kidding when I said the MC was evil. There are some very
     messed up acts performed in this story, all portrayed from the point
     of view of an utterly amoral man. This story has an actual villain
     protagonist and this is the point where that becomes very, very
     clear.
Hidan: Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire


I only realised I had no fucking idea where I was after nearly a solid day of
aimless wandering. I used Jashin’s ability to detect killers to avoid wandering
Shinobi; four days later it helped me find a bounty station. Jashin detected
that a large amount of killers frequented a seemingly innocuous building in a
small, non-ninja village and I felt it would be worth checking out.


I hadn’t spent all that time simply stumbling about; by tying my bags to my
scythe I not only increased the weight (already enhanced by the now rotting
corpse attached) to potentially increase my swing speed, I also freed up a hand
to read scrolls with.


Admittedly, being on the run wasn't the best place to sit down and train; I
wanted to get the fuck outta dodge before war broke out over the now available
territory. The only thing I really managed was dodging ninjas from a great
distance, repeatedly swinging my scythe with one or both hands, reading basic
scrolls (not wanting to risk the rarer stuff out in the open), and practicing
basic chakra control exercises. I’m just glad it never rained and ruined all my
swag!


Actually walking into the benign looking little restaurant was daunting until I
realised I probably didn’t actually have a bounty; who’s gonna post it from a
nation with no survivors or witnesses? With a good deal of false bravado I
entered the little restaurant, attempting to ignore the looks people gave me.
Oddly, entering a restaurant with a partially decomposed body impaled on a
scythe only got me a few raised eyebrows and a couple wrinkled noses.


I glanced around; the place was rather quant and old fashioned, a fire-lit
atmosphere enhanced by dark wooden walls and furniture. The food looked and
smelled decent enough, but Jashin assured me that food, water, and even air
were unnecessary for me (which explained why Hidan could still talk without
lungs) and I wasn’t one to waste money I don’t have on luxuries I don’t need.


A helpful patron with an unnaturally blank face glanced at the corpse I’ve been
lugging around and pointed to the bathroom; likely seeing my inexperience with
bounty hunting and deciding to help a newcomer. Nice guy; I’ll kill him quick
if it comes down to it.


I walked into the unsurprisingly clean bathroom, looking around for any sign of
where the station might be. I was about to start knocking on walls when Jashin
spoke up,  “Death radiates from behind the second stall; many killers, both
dead and alive, have passed through that stall. The other stalls are nearly
untouched.” Well, that solves that problem then.


I open the stall, noticing the lack of a toilet right away but not seeing any
means of ingress. As far as I could tell the wall was perfectly smooth and
seamless; not even a hint of a door. Frowning, I decided to try knocking on the
wall; if that didn’t work I could always try knocking it down, though somehow I
don’t think that’s a good idea considering the more experienced bounty hunters
I’ll likely piss off with such a move.


Fortunately, before I could move past merely contemplating whether it was worth
it to piss off a shit load of ninjas, a rectangular seam appeared in the wall
slightly below eye level. The sectioned off part of the wall slid back before
sliding to the right, revealing a pair of suspicious brown eyes staring out. “I
don’t recognise you.”


I smirked, “I’m new,” I moved my scythe (and more importantly, the dead body
attached) into view, “But I’m pretty sure he isn’t.”


He glanced at the dead Anbu before looking back at me, “Hmph,  a newbie taking
out an Anbu huh? Guess Kakuzu was wrong about each generation only getting
weaker as time goes on.“ Huh, sounds about right; grumpy bastard would say
something like that. “Alright kid, give me a sec’ to open the door and I’ll
get’cher money once I verify the validity and identity of the body.”


I raise an eyebrow, “Do people often try to screw you over?” I’m not truly
surprised, but fostering a good relationship with those who pay me is probably
a good idea.


He laughs, “You have no idea how many people have shown up with one of
Orochimaru’s shed skins and tried to claim the bounty on his head.”


I snickered as the wall followed the eye slot’s example, revealing what
appeared to be a small morgue. “I can imagine that would get old fast.” I joked
as I stepped into the room. The short, balding man that seemed to run this
place gestured at one of the medical slabs.


With a flick of my wrist the corpse flew off my scythe to land on the table
with a dull thud. The station master gave me a queer look before shaking his
head. I thought I heard a mutter of “Damn over eager beginners; always trying
to show off…” but I'm sure it was just the wind. Indoors. Yeah.


The man pulled on some surgical gloves and set about examining the body,
humming tunelessly as he worked. A few moments of seemingly purposeless
examinations of random body parts passed before he actually started looking
closely at the face. “Word to the wise kid; try not to damage the face too
much. Makes these examinations much harder and some places will detract from
yer pay if ya make ‘em use other verification methods.” He sent me an aside
glance before returning to his work, “Yer knew to this business so I'll let cha
off with a warning this time.”


I repressed the urge to sigh; I just knew crushing his head would come back to
bite me. I’m just lucky the poor sucker was sympathetic or I would be out some
cash. I started surreptitiously glancing about under the (not entirely
inaccurate) guise of just examining the station as a newb bounty hunter; what I
was  really  looking for was where he kept the cash. Why bother doing the
actual work when I can just kill this weak, middle-aged man and steal it
instead?


‘Because his weakness is likely a facade and I would almost certainly get
banned from the industry immediately once word gets out (which it would.)’ , I
thought as the man who looked to have gone to seed was suddenly in my face when
I took a bit too much interest in his desk.


“Exploring another man’s space is not a good thing to be caught doing, boy. Try
not to be so obvious with your planning.” HIs expression gave nothing of his
thoughts away, utterly blank like it was formed from coloured stone.


I hid my nervousness with an obfuscating smirk, “Planning?” I questioned
lightly, “You think I’m dumb enough to shit where I eat?” I snorted, “If I
robbed you not only would all those bounty hunters out there attack me, but
when I killed them I wouldn’t be able to collect there bounties because I’d be
blacklisted from the business.”


His expression melted slightly, becoming less unnatural before he raised his
eyebrow, “When you kill them?” He grunted amusedly, “You’re sure confident for
a rookie… confidence kills, kid.” He moved back to his examination, “A word of
advice kid; never get too confident or someone you dismissed as not a threat
will be the one turning in your head here.”


My smirk grew slightly wider,  ‘It’s hardly overconfidence if they really
can’t  kill me.’  I thought. Though that doesn’t make the advice bad; always
take every fight seriously.


My attention was drawn back to the station attendant as he cleared his throat
and moved over to the desk I had been investigation earlier. “Alright kid,”
That was getting more than a touch annoying, this body is an adult damn it! And
even if it wasn’t, the one I left behind sure was. “This looks legit.” He
reached down and opened up a drawer I’m certain wasn’t there when I was
inspecting it and pulled out a briefcase and a scroll. He started to rapidly
pull large stacks of money from the scroll and place them in the briefcase; so
rapidly in fact that I’m certain he was trying to screw me over by not giving
me the full bounty. “There ya go; two hundred and fifty three thousand five
hundred and seventy nine ryo.” Huh, how pedantically and oddly specific.


The moment he handed it to me I started counting each ryo but gave up after
realising it was far too boring to hold my attention for more than a couple
seconds and I really didn’t care. I ignored the plebian chuckling over my
checking and simply looked for for trackers and bombs, which did in fact result
in me counting the money… or rather  Jashin  counting the money. Apparently she
could see through my eyes and see the general area around me; kinda like a text
based (she has to describe what she sees, rather than me being able to just see
what she sees) Byakugan without the blindspot if ya think about it. Considering
she has  way  better perception than me (being a god has its perks; quite a few
of them actually) it was easy for her to count the bills as I flipped through
them. On the upside; he didn’t cheat me. On the downside; he  did  slip a
tracking device in.


The fact that a world without cars has fucking mini-tracking devices and TVs
and shit still baffles me.


I subtly (as I could anyway) palmed the tracker from my money. I nodded to the
man as I walked out of the (slightly perversely) hidden bounty office, tossing
the tracker into some sucker’s soup as I walked out the door.


Well, that was a worthwhile trip; I’m leaving some two hundred thousand ryo
richer and one rotting body lighter, a good trade! Come to think of it; any
trade of rotting anything for cash is probably a good trade…


Whistling merrily as I walked out of the little village (fuck inns, I don’t
sleep so the damn parasites can't suck me dry!) and went searching for a nice,
quiet place to train. After only five  or six hours of solid, non-stop running
(infinite stamina for the win!) I came across a little clearing in the middle
of nowhere that seemed perfect for my purposes.


I nodded to myself, approaching a tree with a determined look on my face; might
as well start with the most basic of techniques, the surface clinge. Hopefully
my body’s muscle memories would kick in and speed up these early stages but
it’s best to just give it a shot.


I placed a hand against a tree, deciding to cheat a little by using the easiest
place to channel chakra rather than the hardest to start with. I focused for a
moment, feeling my chakra move through my body like a horrific, semi-gaseous
parasite infused throughout my body before pushing it towards my hand and into
the tree before me. A second later I had wooden shrapnel embedded in my mangled
hand and face.


I stared at the ruins of my hand with my single eye for a moment, too stunned
to even think. Slowly, my gaze shifted to the tree; only to widen in even
greater shock. Apparently I channeled way,  way  too much chakra into the
technique because the tree looked like fucking bomb went off on the trunk,
reducing a significant portion to so much mulch; in fact, a portion of the tree
larger than my own body was simply gone


Huh, why did no one ever think to weaponize this? If you deliberately fail the
surface cling right as you hit something it would be like a cut rate Explosion
release or super… strength. A grin spread across my face as I started pulling
the shrapnel from my body, starting with my left eye. The sucking sound my eye
socket made as the six inch wood chip was pulled out was more than a touch
disturbing, but with Jashin fucking with my nervous system to turn what pain
wasn’t suppressed to pleasure it only freaked my the fuck out rather than
sending me to the ground in screaming agony.


I blinked my damaged eye several times, smiling as my vision was slowly
restored. Looks like Tsunade’s super strength wasn’t all that special really;
just a deliberate and refined failure of the surface cling. Admittedly, the way
it’s described implies it takes a lot more control than I possess to get it to
Tsunade’s level, but it’s still a rather simple technique at its heart.


Of course, before I can even think of weaponizing failure I need to learn how
to  succeed.  Attempting to stick my foot to a tree (like a goddamned pleb)
resulted in the same thing; me with hamburger for a leg and a tree blown to
smithereens. Turns out, Hidan has a fuck-load of chakra; he just never got
famous for it ‘cause he never used it for anything. Well, I’m not so foolish as
to let a resource like this go to waste!


Of course, having an ungodly (or extremely holy, as Jashin insisted) amount of
chakra only brought control into even greater importance. I soon came to the
realisation of just  why  Hidan never used any techniques; they would all
fucking explode from being massively overcharged! I had more chakra than
goddamn Naruto (sans-bijuu) as an adult! I kept blowing up trees no matter how
little chakra I tried to put into trying to stick to them. (Regrowing limbs
gets real old real fast, I soon found.)


I grit my teeth in frustration, “There is no fucking way I’m letting too much
chakra keep me from being awesome, damn it!” I kicked a nearby tree in rage,
splintering the wood from my bodies unaugmented strength. Canon Hidan was
capable of at least the fucking surface cling, why can’t I! Hell, earlier I
managed to use chakra to manipulate the cord of my scythe on pure instinct! How
could this be so much harder?


Jashin was no help here; not being even remotely human she had no experience
using chakra (apparently the energy gods used was different) and had even less
experience training, she just always knew what she could do and how to do it
(though, she did say that lately she’s been curious about her capabilities).


Turns out, anger isn’t exactly conducive to finesse and the slightly diminished
explosions I was producing got significantly larger. Frowning, I sat down with
a huff, “Fuckin’ trees… I’mma level Konoha just to get revenge on the damn
trees…” I petulantly grumbled. Laying back I stared up at the clouds with a
sigh, “This is gonna take a while…”


And take a while it did; three weeks and over twenty acres of shredded trees
later I finally managed to stick to one with only minor cracks radiating from
the point of contact! Honestly I’m surprised the endless (almost rhythmic)
explosions day and night didn’t attract any curious ninjas; though they may
have thought a high level battle was going on and didn’t want to get caught in
the middle of it. Like cowardly rats, these ninjas.


A massive smile spread across my face as I slowly placed one foot in front of
the other and walked up the tree, only greatly weakening its structural
stability rather than blowing it to pieces. I was inordinately proud of myself
for managing the most basic ninja technique; but hell, you need to take pride
in yourself or you’ll go mad. “Hahahahahahahahaha!” Okay, the cackling may be
taking it a tiny bit too far; maybe I already sailed past “mad” on a jet ski
full of cocaine.


A creaking sound drew my gaze to my feet. My smile faded as I saw just how
damaged the tree was from my continued presence. I jumped off, landing a few
feet away as the large and numerous cracks across the tree groaned ominously. A
few seconds passed in relative silence before the tree gave one last sad groan
and collapsed to the ground in pieces.


I stared at the rubble for a long moment, even Jashin was silent in my
thoughts. “Huh… guess I need even more practice than I thought.” I mumbled,
sheepishly scratching the back of my head. Jashin’s voice tore me from my
thoughts.


“Four shinobi are approaching; three in a semi-circle behind you and one coming
straight in front. Judging by the blood they’ve spilt the one coming head on is
a Jounin and the other three are somewhat seasoned Genin.” I frowned, seems
these ninjas are closer to vultures than rats; a much more respectable thing to
be in my opinion (there is nothing as disgusting as a parasite; better a
scavenger than a parasite).


“Thank you Jashin; I’ll kill them in you name.”  It was an ease promise to
make; I had no intention of letting any information get out at this stage. Just
letting them go was never an option. I’m sure Jashin knew this (she can read my
fucking mind after all), but she didn’t seem bothered by my hazy dedication to
mass murder.


I didn’t bother turning to face the Genin; no strategy mere Genin could come up
with would bother me, especially considering they don’t know I’m a True
Immortal. ...Well, at least I think so; not sure what would happen if they
atomized me (nor am I willing to test it).


“You would be fine; as my champion I possess your soul, what happens to your
body is irrelevant. As our relationship gets stronger and you sacrifice more
souls to me, my grasp gets stronger on your soul and you literally grow closer
to the center of my being. This comes with a number of benefits… but I do not
think now is the best time to discuss such.” Well… that’s interesting; both
somewhat comforting (True Immortality bitches!) and somewhat disturbing (my
soul is swimming in evil…). Good to have that confirmed, but even if
atomization could kill me, I highly doubt any Genin could achieve such a
glorious feat of annihilation.


The Jonin walked out of a section of undamaged trees as cocky as could be;
fucker was damn sure he could take me. This green-haired, blue-eyed bitch is
gonna fucking choke on that smile.


I smirked, resting my scythe on my shoulder as he opened his mouth to spew some
nonsense. I cut him off before he could flap his gums, “Wow, you must really
not care about your Genin.”


He blinked, taken off guard by my statement (and possibly noticing my subtle
assertion of dominance by speaking first). “What?” he asked stupidly, a
confused and startled expression on his face.


My smirk grew, “Your little students up in the trees. You must really not give
a shit what happens to them to take them with you to fight me. Need some meat
shields, eh?”


His smug expression returned, though it was noticeably false nd shaken. “I
highly doubt someone like you could take a team of Genin, even if I did have
any. Which I don't.”


My smirk turned to a grin as I heard one of the aforementioned Genin shift in
the tree behind me, disrupting some leafs in a very noticeable manner. I raised
an eyebrow mockingly, “That so, huh? ‘Spose ya wouldn't mind if I killed those
brats then, would ya? Maybe have some fun with the girly?” I was never a very
moral man, but even I could tell that having my soul submersed in the essence
of a god of evil al-la Angra Manyu was having rather noticeable effects if I
was (more than) contemplating raping a teenage girl. I mean, by this cultures
standards she was an adult the moment she put on the headband (likely to
compensate for this exact scenario, come to think of it), but she sure as fuck
wasn't by mine. Meh, can't exactly be the champion of a god like Jashin if ya
let little things like any remnant of morality still floating around in your
head bother you; besides, it's not like it ever stopped anyone in my world even
when it was way less culturally acceptable.


His face went cold, blue eyes hardening to resemble ice. I could see he was
about to go into some impassioned speech about killing me ‘cause I'm a rabid
animal or a monster or whatever. This time I didn't even have to interrupt him
myself; his Genin did it for me!


The dumbass who disturbed the leafs leapt out with a snarl, aiming his kunai to
slam into the top of my head. He was coming from behind and to the left, as if
he thought being on the opposite shoulder to my scythe would help him.


My arm moved back, sloping my scythe towards the ground before jerking sharply
downwards; slamming all three blades into the brash youth’s chest. His small
size meant the massive blades nearly bisected him even just with a stab, the
top blade impaled through his groin.


I carried through with the strike, driving both blades and boy into the earth
before me. A massive grin stretched across my face as I made sure to lock my
near lustful purple eyes with the shocked and horrified blue of the Jounin
before I ripped the blade back, tearing out through the boy’s skull and
dragging what innards weren't sliced apart out of his body.


His intestines and a couple organs trailed behind my blade as I whirled around
to block the sword swipe a more competent ninja aimed at my back. I nearly
applauded the brave and ice cold Genin for seeing his teammate’s death as an
opportunity to kill me while my blade was busy. Nearly.


Instead I blocked his swipe with the haft of my scythe, pulling the blades back
from where they loomed behind him. To my mild surprise he almost managed to
dodge, only losing his sword arm instead of his head. Even with the mild
respect (honestly, this Genin could have gone places if he hadn't met me) I
held for the child I wasn't dumb enough to leave an enemy alive when they still
had enough limbs to attack me. My left hand shot forward and grabbed his face,
crushing his skull between my fingers in a single squeeze.


I laughed at the sounds of the remaining Genin puking from her position
paralyzed with fear on her tree; idiot, what did she expect when she became a
Shinobi? Death and worse lurk around every corner when you fly the colours;
what her friends got is a mercy compared to what I'll do to her.


My psychotic grin added a bit of lust to its normal bloodlust as I felt
Jashin’s approval of my plans. My musings were interrupted by a sword skewering
me through the back, penetrating my heart and exploding out my chest. Honestly,
I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier; despite my immense strength, decent
skill (mostly do to Hidan’s muscle memories), and creativity, I had no real
training and had mostly been running on luck to pull off the cool shit I did.


I turned my head to look at the Jounin’s grim face, blood dripping out through
my grin. I coughed out a spray of blood as he pulled his blade from my chest,
stumbling forward a few steps before collapsing to the earth. I listened as
Jashin described what my eyes couldn’t see; the Jounin stepped forward to
comfort the Genin girl who apparently fell from the tree while I was distracted
by being stabbed.


As he wrapped comforting arms around her in a distinctly familial embrace I
noticed the similarities between the two. Blue eyes, green hair, tanned skin;
they looked too similar to not be related. Hmhmhmhmhm, I’m gonna make him
suffer.


I rose silently like the specter of death behind him; a sickle like grin spread
across my face as I drew back my scythe. I dashed forward and slammed my blades
through the back of both his knees; drawing a pained scream from his lips. A
cruel laugh leaked from my savage grin as I twisted my blade to draw more
screams from him before pulling it to the side; severing one leg and leaving
the other dangling by a few scraps of flesh.


My laughter spiked as I grabbed his forehead, pulling his head back as I hooked
my scythe under his right arm. “Is she your daughter?” I asked, deceptively
lightly before pulling my blade back, severing his arm. “Or perhaps your
sister?” Another question, another arm.


I didn’t bother waiting for him to answer (I rather doubt he would have even if
I had; he seemed rather preoccupied with screaming) and instead wrapped a hand
around his throat and lifted him into the air. I smirked into his face, “I
suppose it doesn’t really matter; you care for her, and thusly I can hurt you
through her…“ I didn’t bother to tell him I was going to do this regardless;
let him think he caused her suffering. I carried him a short distance to the
very tree his likely daughter fell from. Slamming my scythe into the ground I
unsheathed his blade from its sheath, making a show of examining it before
ramming all three feet through his gut and into the tree behind him. I smiled
at him, watching as he cringed before pulling out a kunai. “I can’t have you
closing those eyes, now can I?” With a near gentle smile I sliced off his
eyelids; he won’t be needing them soon anyway.


Wiping my kunai off on his chest and tucking it back into its pouch I turned
towards the girl, smirking at her paralysed form. She was just so fucking
pathetic; how did she ever expect to be a ninja if she freezes in the face of
danger? Maybe she didn't; perhaps her father forced her down the same path he
took? Well then, looks like he may be suffering more than I thought.


I paused in my approach, turning to look at the man behind me thoughtfully.
‘Can I force my curse technique on others? Like, if I make someone else perform
the ritual against their will, would it still work even if their not a
Jashinist?’  I didn't really have to, but I deliberately sent my thoughts to
Jashin none the less.


A moment passed before she replied,  “Normally no. But as you’re my champion,
I'll allow it.”


A dark grin spread across my face as I reached out and scooped up some of the
blood flowing from one of the man's arms. Seeing the girl starting to actually
wake up from whatever catatonia she had fallen into I dashed over to her,
grabbing her face and hooking my fingers on her jaw bone, using the leverage to
force it open. I couldn’t help but laugh as I poured her father’s blood down
her throat, using the same hand that forced open her mouth to massage her
throat, forcing her to swallow. My laughter grew higher in pitch as I cut open
her forehead, drawing enough blood to form the ritual circle.


Malice rolled off me like a toxic miasma as I watched her skin blacken and
white, bone like markings spread across her. Turning my head, I smiled at her
father… before slamming the back of my scythe into her jaw, sending her
shattered teeth down her throat. Based on the gurgling scream her father gave
the curse was in full effect; perfect.


I pulled my cock out with an evil smile (huh, Hidan really was blessed) and
rammed it down her throat (turns out, blood, tears, and saliva make decent
lube). She was tight in a way only the unwilling (or very experienced) can be
(though her age may have something to do with that), her throat writhing and
spasming around me. The warm, wet tightness combined with the spasming felt
divine (especially since Jashin seemed to fully agree); though what really
pushed me over the edge was the look of hopeless misery and despair in her
eyes.


She choked even more as I came down her throat, making sure to pull out enough
to splatter some on her face and bleeding gums. She coughed and sputtered,
vomiting a pinkish mix of fluids onto the ground and all over herself. Her wide
tear filled eyes stayed firmly locked on the ground: perhaps she thought this
was the end? Honestly, she should hope I keep going; the longer she entertains
me, the longer she lives… though she may not prefer that all things considered.


I reached forward, grasping the hem of her dress. With my great strength
tearing the piece of clothing was beyond simple. She screamed more, actually
trying to crawl away for the first time. I  may  have dislocated her hips when
I roughly spread her legs apart, but I can’t say I really care either way.


I ripped her pink polka dot panties (really? Seriously, how the hell did she
think she could be a kunoichi like this) off, lining myself up with her pink
slit before pausing. I turned to look back at her father, grinning at him as I
reversed my position, insuring his lidless eyes (that seemed to have gone hazy
from blood loss) could see as I entered her. I wonder if he’ll be able to feel
it as if he had a vagina to violate or if it’ll simply feel like a strange pain
in his groin?


My turgid cock speared the girls virgin flower like a harpoon stabbing a mouse,
eliciting a scream of agony and violation from her and a hopeless moan from her
father. Her pussy was even tighter than her throat and as a plus, I didn’t get
shards of teeth embedded in my dick! A few minutes of thrusting later and I
once more emptied my balls insider her; though, judging by the way she begged
and pleaded she considered this much worse. I’m not quite sure why; it’s not
like she’s gonna live long enough for pregnancy to be an issue.


Cum and blood (confirming her former virginity… or maybe my dick was just to
huge for her? Possibly the shards of teeth getting dislodged inside her?)
leaked from her violated pussy as I shifted her in my lap; positioning myself
to line up with her ass. Hopefully blood and cum will make good enough lube
that I won’t get friction burns; that would kind of suck, though not much worse
than the shards of teeth did.


I spared her father a glance, frowning at what I saw; seems he either had or
was very nearly bled out (though I’m fairly certain he’s at least still alive
considering the girl’s skin hasn’t turned back). Well then, guess I’ll have to
hurry up if I want him to feel this last part; sepsis and exsanguination wait
for no man!


Even with a body almost as broken as her soul, the girls instincts still had
her clenching to prevent my intrusion. It did her little good (probably just
made it worse honestly); she had nowhere near enough strength to stop me. I
groaned somewhat as I entered her last virgin hole; her ass was by far her
tightest hole, almost uncomfortably so.


While lacking the natural lubrication of both her mouth and cunt, the shear
tightness of her ass more than made up for it. My cock was so sensitive from
cuming twice in quick seccesion (thank Jashin for taking away my refractory
period) it didn’t take long to reach orgasm once again.


I stood up, letting her fall to the ground as she slipped off my cock. Leaning
down, I grabbed her hair and used it to pull her into a kneeling position; she
didn’t even have it in her to whimper any more. I started humming as I tugged
on my cord to pull my scythe to my hand from where it was stabbed into the
ground next to the Jounin’s tree.


I brought the blades to her violated crotch, sticking the top most blade in.
That  seemed to get her attention as she somehow found the energy to scream
again. She stopped when I pulled sharply upwards, divesting her of her innards.
Her internal organs spilled onto the ground as I pulled my scythe from her
chest and throat. I watched almost boredly as the same wound was replicated on
her father; the sadistic rush is kinda lost when they’re not conscious to feel
the pain.


In the end they meant nothing to me; just toys to sate my lust and malice on. I
didn’t care that they were important to someone; so long as that someone isn’t
me they may as well be living dolls for all I care. Perhaps this whole bout of
savage cruelty was a result of Jashin lowering my inhibitions, perhaps it was
just the thought that no one I cared about would be hurt by my actions, perhaps
it was the freedom and sense of detachment one gets when torn from their home
world; regardless the result was the same. Funny just how much evil one is
willing to commit to strangers, eh?


I walked forward, pulling my bingo book from my pocket and flicking through it
to see if the man had a bounty. Using my scythe to push his head back to get a
better look at him, turning his head this way and that and comparing his image
to a few different pictures (it’s surprising just how many green haired, blue
eyes Jounin there are) before smirking in triumph. “Heh, lucky me; another
bounty just drops into my lap.”


I blinked as he fell to the earth at my feet, the massive wound covering his
entire abdomen enabling his body to twist enough for the blade to cut through
him rather than hold him in place. Shrugging I reached down, grabbing him by
his hair like I had his daughter and tossing him into the air; skewering him on
my blade just like my last bounty.


Whistling a merry tune I collected my bags from where I set them before
beginning training and set off towards the only bounty station I knew. I didn’t
even glance back at the Genin’s corpses; why should I care for broken toys?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


This time my entrance caused a bit of a stir; apparently a corpse impaled on a
scythe with a slit throat is less disturbing than a man who was obviously
torture to death. Hmph, fucking double standards! Even so, no one bothered me
as I walked to the restroom.


The station keeper merely raised an eyebrow at the state the body was in, “Wow,
you’re one twisted son of bitch, aren’t ya?” Shaking his head, he examined the
body, taking far less time than previously (possibly due to the corpse
possessing fewer limbs, possibly because I was becoming a known factor) before
handing over the money. A quick check told me there was no tracking device this
time.


I smiled as I walked out; the weight of the bags I had tied around my waste
reminding me it was about time I use some of my newly acquired funds to
purchase some supplies. While I could probably just steal it, I would be easier
to just buy it legit if I can afford it rather than go through the hassle of
stealing it.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The police chief grimaced, puffing on his cigar as he stepped from his car into
the rain. His secretary helpfully held a umbrella over his head to shield him
from the downpour; he offered the eager young hopeful a nod in acknowledgement.
‘Kids gonna get a real shock when he sees just how awful the world really is.’
  He grimaced at the line of officers arrayed around the perimeter of the
hospital.  ‘Just, hopefully not today.’


He walked to the officer in charge, “What’s the situation?” He barked without
preamble.


The man, a decorated veteran officer was grim faced as he turned to his
superior, “Bad, sir. We received a call not long ago that some psycho was
attacking the hospital.”


The chief raised an eyebrow, “Why have you not sent men in to handle this guy
then?” He wasn’t surprised to see his subordinates mien grow even more grim.


“We did. We lost contact half an hour ago. Their last reports were… unsettling.
And confusing.” The officer sighed, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his
shirt pocket and grimacing at its soaked state.


The chief's face hardened, “Confusing how?” He didn’t want to hear why it was
disturbing, he already had a pretty good idea.


The officer’s dark eyes were haunted, “They said they shot him twenty seven
times. That was before he strangled one with another’s intestines.” He pointed
at a window on the third floor, “If you look closely you can probably still see
him hanging there.”


That was… shocking to say the least. “Do you think drugs are involved?” Back in
his days as a beat cop he once encountered a drugged up loon who seemed to
shrug off damage right up until he took a round to the eye. Bastard managed to
stab his partner in the throat before he took him down.


The officer gave him an incredulous look, “I don’t know what drugs you’ve seen,
but I’ve never heard of anything that can let a man shrug of six rounds to the
temple at point blank range like it was nothing.”


Now the chief’s eyes widened. He was about to respond when the hospital’s front
door was kicked open. A man dressed in a tattered and blood-stained patient’s
gown stood in the doorway, laughing psychotically and shouting in what the
chief vaguely recognized as Japanese; though it was no dialect he had ever
heard. The madman brandished a long amputation knife in one hand from which he
licked blood… the other held a severed head, its ragged esophagus and bits of
spine hanging from the shredded stump of its neck.


The man barely had time to toss the head at the line of police and SWAT before
the space he occupied was filled with copious amounts of lead. The startled and
enraged lawmen fired every last round they had into the deranged killer;
emptying pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles into him.


A long moment of silence passed as the last gun clicked empty… then the
laughing started anew.
***** Merc With A Scythe *****
Merc With A Scythe


If my encounter with that Genin team taught me anything, it’s that I rely too
much on surprising people with my immortality. If that Jounin had known I was
immortal he very well might have cut me to pieces rather than just stab me; I
may not be able to die but that doesn’t mean I can’t be incapacitate or
captured. I’ve been lucky so far that no one is aware I can’t just be killed,
but relying on luck is how you wind up burned to ashes and shot into space.


However, right now gathering supplies took priority over actively training.
First things first; a change of wardrobe is in order! It was surprisingly easy
to find a store tailored to ninjas considering this isn’t a ninja village;
though I suppose some enterprising asshole saw the constant influx of bounty
hunters and decided to take advantage. I’m more surprised said bounty hunters
didn’t kill him for potentially revealing one of their bases of operation to
the world; most bounty hunters are missing-nin and they tend not to be so open
about their movements.


Even more surprising than their being a ninja supply store was their being
several; each catering to different needs ninjas (and more specifically: bounty
hunters) have. Finding one that sold clothing was fairly easy, and it was
conveniently located right next to one that sold weapons! Now all I need is a
place that sells storage and explosive seals (much as I would like to just make
them myself, I have no Jashin damned idea how).


My customary smirk afixed to my face, I pushed open the door to the clothing
store, grimacing slightly at the small bell that chimed as I did. The
storekeeper was an elderly man, dull brown eyes under gray hair on a wrinkled
face. Even as worn down by time as he was he bore himself with an air of good
humour, a small smile beneath glittering eyes. I hated him immediately.


I returned his smile with one of my own, “Do you, perchance, have combat
boots?” Always pays to be polite (unless it’s time to drop facades and false
faces). Besides, I’m more likely to get out of here (and away from that
monstrous display of faux-happiness) quickly if I’m (relatively) polite rather
than combative. Even though my pocketed hands are twitching to pull a kunai and
slit him up; make him show how he  really  feels.


That disgusting twinkle hiding a wellspring of misery seemed to grow brighter
at my words, “Combat boots you say? Why, I haven’t had someone ask for those
in…” He trailed off, staring at a spot to the left of me with dimmed eyes; that
damnable twinkle momentarily faded, loss and sorrow shining through.


He shook his head, smiling to cover his slip, “Sorry, son; sometimes this old
brain o’ mine slips into old memories.” He shook his head ruefully, “Combat
boots, was it? Bit of an odd choice there, boyo. Most ninjas don’t like ‘em,
say they get in the way of channeling chakra or some such.”


I could feel my polite smile twitching minutely as the man rambled; my desire
to shove his severed cock down his throat had lessened with that brief glimpse
of the despair behind his smile but if he starts fucking lecturing me I’mma
strangle him with his own fucking guts. “I’m aware,” I really wasn’t, but I
can’t say I particularly care. “Even so, I know what I want.” One smart remark
and I’m burning this place down.


He simply gave a shrug and a genial smile, “To each their own, I suppose.” He
jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing vaguely towards a section of what
appeared to be footwear. “There’s a few in the corner back there; some
civilians like to wear ‘em to look hard…” Something in his expression changed,
a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “No, you’re the real deal ain’t cha?”
His eyes were evaluating and cold, looking me over and seeing a threat rather
than a customer. “Not like those flashy morons who tromp around and spout jutsu
like they’re goin’ outta style; you know what it’s like to feel a man’s life
bleed out all over your hands, to watch the light leave a little girl’s eyes
because she thought she had what it takes to be a ninja.” With a start I
realized this man may well have been a retired ninja, possibly even from the
Warring Clans Era considering his age (and my lack of knowledge of where I am
in the timeline; knowing Kakuzu is active tells me little more than the fact
that ninja villages exist, he was ninety Jashin damned years olds in
Shippuden).


His suddenly dim eyes looked me over for a moment, seeing something I can’t.
“Why exactly, do you want combat boots?” He finally questioned after a long
moment of silence.


I pointedly didn’t smirk, “They’re better for kicking with and protect you from
the elements more than sandals.” Simple and true. Somehow I felt honesty was
warranted here.


He smirked darkly, eyes flickering to the dark stains on my shoes and pant legs
(I’m just glad Hidan doesn’t wear a shirt or I’d have to replace it after that
asshole stabbed me). “And because they’re better for crushing skulls, hm?”


I shrug, “Isn’t that implied? I did say they were better for kicking.” A smirk
to match the man I was coming to realize I rather liked spread across my face;
it seems more than misery hid behind that vapid smile.


He laughed, “Aye, boyo; I suppose so.” He reached beneath the counter and
tossed something at me.


Catching it on instinct I saw it was a key, “The good stuff is in the way back;
pick out whatever you want and we’ll negotiate a price.”


I smiled, giving him a nod as I subtly checked the key for poisons and
explosive seals (not that either would really matter, though getting blown up
would be annoying). Based on the approving look on the shopkeeper’s face I
wasn’t as subtle as I could have hoped.


Finding nothing, I made my way to the back of the store, glancing at the wares
on display as I passed; they all look pretty decent to me. While he hadn’t
exactly indicated where this “back” he spoke of was located, I figured a door
partially concealed behind a rack of cloaks was a safe bet.


Fitting the key into the lock I found my guess to have been correct. The door
opened soundlessly into a pitch black room that had my danger senses blaring
like crazy. Even with the GTFO sirens screaming I decided to step into the
room, groping the side wall for a light switch. Eventually my questing hand
found what I was seeking and the room lit up.


...For about two seconds before a burlap sack was pulled over my head and a
syringe stabbed into my neck. Those two seconds were long enough for me to
catch a glimpse of bloodstained cages and a pristine operating table.


I laughed, my left arm thrusting up to grasp my assailants elbow; continuing on
to snap it in two. I roughly twisted the broken appendage, forcing the idiot to
the ground with one hand while the other reached up to pull the sack from my
face.


With the obstruction removed I could see who had been fool enough to try to
drug me; a child, maybe seven or eight years old stared up at me from the
ground with terrified pink eyes framed by a messy mop of blue hair. I shifted
my grasp to close my hand around the boy’s throat; silencing the scream I could
see building on his lips. He struggled and choked; unable to draw breath past
my powerful grip.


Idly pulling the (mostly) empty syringe from my throat I picked the boy-child
up, closing the door behind me (and wondering why the old man hadn’t come
running when the kid screamed). A dark smile spread across my face as I
approached the surgical table. I slammed the kid onto the table and calmly set
about strangling him; loosening my grasp just long enough to let him catch a
breath in increasingly long intervals. I watched his expression with interest
as he desperately clawed at my arm and hand; trying futilely to pry open my
grasp with steadily weakening fingers. I watched and felt as the tears flowing
from his eyes poured over my hand; honestly, what kind of idiot attacks someone
without being prepared to be attacked in return? Never start a fight you’re not
prepared to finish.


Before he could pass out I placed the syringe he stabbed me with over his left
eye, allowing him to breath for a moment so he can properly process what’s
about to happen. I wait until I see his eyes widen before plunging the syringe
into his orbital, pushing down until the needle was fully immersed in his eye.


My face remained oddly blank as I depressed the plunger, blowing air and the
remains of whatever drug the kid had intended to sedate me with into his
eyeball before pulling it back and sucking out blood and the internals of his
eye into the tube. I drove the needle in further and twisted it from side to
side; insuring the eye was thoroughly ruined (and increasing the pain
inflicted). The boy's single functioning eye was spinning rapidly in its
socket; blood pouring from the mutilated one as I pulled the syringe out.


I smirk faintly as I push the needle into his right lung, injecting the
contents straight into the empty organ. I chuckle quietly as he begins spasming
harder at the liquid intrusion where only air should go. I repeat the process
six times before growing bored and jamming the needle all the way into his
chest; shattering it (and some bones) with a single sharp punch to the chest.


Even with my tight grasp around his throat, blood was burrbling out between his
lips; joining his tears in dirtying my hand. I glanced away from the kid,
looking over the array of surgical tools available to me, smiling when I
spotted my prize; a gleaming, serrated bone saw. My long fingers wrapped around
the handle, holding the blade upside down.


Grinning, I held the blade before the futility gasping boy’s single eye; once
more waiting for him to see it and comprehend before acting. I slowly slid the
blade between his legs, making sure he could feel it crawling towards him by
dragging it along his legs. Eventually the serrated edge met his crotch,
pressing into his tiny testicals through the (noticeably filthy and ragged)
blue shorts he wore. I looked him straight in his single eye and gave him the
gentlest smile I could fake… before slowly sawing upwards.


He writhed and spasmed, the jerking movements only making the saw bite all the
deeper as his body desperately tried to move away from it. Blood poured like a
river from the open wound and I knew I didn’t have much time before he bled
out. I sped up my sawing when I hit the base of his spine; while the
destruction of such an important part of him meant that he lost feeling below
each destroyed segment, it also caused unbelievable pain throughout his entire
body. If only I knew how to form lightning chakra, then I could really fuck
with his system.


I was about halfway up his torso when the door behind me opened, though by that
point the boy was long dead (weather from blood loss or shock I don’t know or
particularly care). I turned my neck in a deliberately awkward manner to see
the same old man who sent me back here watching me with the same cold eyes he
had  when  he sent me back here. His gaze flickers to what little of the boy is
visible past me (mostly just blood, but I suppose that says enough) before
returning back to my face. “Hmph, good help is so hard to find. Better you kill
the brat than make me waste my time doing it myself.”


I raised an eyebrow, “I kinda expected you to be more angry.”


He laughed, a cold, dark, and dusty sound like wind blowing through a tomb.
“Angry? Why should I cry over such a useless subordinate like him?”


I turned to fully face him, leaving the bone saw in the boy's guts. Crossing my
arms and leaning against the surgical table I look the man over more closely. I
have no idea what he had planned for me but I could only presume it was nothing
good; the fact he didn’t seem bothered by his plan being interrupted only
unsettled me more.


I kept the scowl from my face with some effort as he looked me up and down.
“Have you ever considered mercenary work, boyo?”


I blinked at the non-sequitur, before letting a grin spread across my face. “I
have. Why do you ask?” I have a pretty good guess where this is going, but I
want to hear it from his own mouth.


He smirked, “Well, I suddenly find myself in need of someone to procure… goods
for me.” He waved extravagantly towards the foul smelling cages lining the
walls, “You see, I am no mere slaver; I sell… specialized goods; slaves that
have been modified to suit the buyer’s tastes. I use a variety of seals and
medical procedures to take your average schlock and turn them into something
wonderful .” There was a less than sane gleam in his eyes as he discussed his
work but I didn’t mind; man has pride in what he does, who am I to say he
shouldn’t? It honestly sounds rather impressive and the thought of modifying
people to suit preferences set some ideas rolling around my head.


I wave my right arm to forestall the rant I could see coming, “Alright, I’m
guessing you want me to nabb some plebs of the streets so you can work your
magic on ‘em, eh?” I raise my hand, three fingers extended, “Three conditions.
Number one: If who ever I snatch has a bounty, you need to offer a higher price
than their bounty or I’ll just turn them in.”


He flicked his wrist, as if brushing aside the idea, “If I require someone who
has a bounty on their head you will be compensated appropriately of course;
though I doubt I ever will require such specific materials.”


I nodded, lowering one finger. “Number two: How much am I being paid?”


He smirked, “Fifteen thousand for men, twenty for women, twenty five for male
children, thirty for female children, and fifty for people with bloodlines or
rare traits.”


 “Number three: you said you use seals and medical procedures, right? Teach me
what you know and I’ll let you take the cost of the lessons out of my bill. If
you’re concerned that I may go into business in competition with you; you
needn’t worry, I want the knowledge for personal reasons.” Honestly, I don’t
much need the money but knowledge has a power all on its own.


Had I been a lesser (better) man, the look he gave me would have filled me with
disgust, “Oh, looking to get yourself some custom lovers, eh?” Suddenly the
perverted gleam left his eyes, “I’m no true expert with seals; I barely count
as a journeyman and I’ve been studying for forty years.” He broke off in
muttered expletives apparently aimed towards “that damn lucky brat Jiraiya”.


I raised an eyebrow, he may not know it (in fact, I highly doubt he does) but
that bit of cursing out Jiraiya told me more about the setting than anything
else (Minato and Itachi’s absence from the Bingo Book only told me they hadn’t
committed their respective massacres yet; which only tells me where I’m  not ,
not where I am); I now know that Jiraiya is a well known name and currently a
seal master of some renown. Knowing that Jiraiya is famous, Itachi hasn’t
massacred his clan, and Minato hasn’t earned his moniker gives me a rough
estimate of where I am in the timeline; somewhere between the end of the Second
Shinobi World War and the Third. Of course, there’s always the possibility that
my Bingo Book is simply out of date; but I doubt it considering how much its
original owner cared about his bounty.


“Journeyman is still more than I know. Besides, you know some seals someone
like Jiraiya most certainly knows nothing about.” Might as well inflate his
ego, he'll be more likely to agree with his head in the clouds.


Judging by the massive smirk on his face, comparing him positively to Jiraiya
worked like a charm. “You’re right! I’m better than that brat, and that whore
Tsunade would never even think of using some of the medical jutsu  I’ve
invented!” I decided not to mention that she likely could, but simply wouldn’t
because she has one of those pesky moral codes.


I nod agreeable, “And every master needs an apprentice to carry on their works,
their legacy. If no one knows of your techniques, no one will ever be able to
appreciate your genius.” I  may  be laying it on a but thick, but I really do
want to learn what he knows; not  just  for the sexual avenues they open up.
The techniques used by a slaver like him could (probably) easily be modified
for combat and subterfuge… and I could use them to get a bitchin’ harem.


No way am I gonna be one o’ them misery guts immortals who spend their time
whining about how awful it is to  live forever!  Seriously, if you can't see
the positives of eternal life you are one boring motherfucker.


The “doctor” laughed, “Haha… you think I don’t see what you’re doing?” He
glared at me, a maniacal gleam in his dark eyes visible behind the cold edge as
his face went blank… before an even bigger grin spread across it. “Doesn’t make
you wrong though. Yes, yes, I think I will teach you what I know…” He trailed
off, “I am getting on in years.” I don’t think I was meant to hear that last
part. His drifting gaze locks back on my amused eyes, “Alright, bring me three
subjects and we’ll start your first lesson.”


I smirk, pushing off the table and walking towards the door. “Alright then; any
preferences on who I snatch?”


He shakes his head, making sure to stay outside the perceived range of my
scythe as I pass. “I don’t particularly care. Though I  do  have one caveat; do
not take anyone from this village.” I Turn to look at him from the door,
raising an eyebrow to emphasise the unasked question. “He chuckles quietly,
“Whilst I have no particular care for them, plebeian fools that they are; it
wouldn’t be good to attract attention to our business. Even some so called
ninja seem to get hung up over petty things like “basic human dignity” and
“rights”; utter nonsense, of course. As if the very villages they serve haven’t
violated those imagined rules daily since their inception.” He shakes his head
in disgust, pulling a scroll from the inside pocket of his brown cardigan and
tossing it to me. I didn’t bother telling him that it was actually more
suspicious for no one to be taken from an area than for it to be just as preyed
upon; why should I care if his poor planning ends up killing him? So long as I
get what I want before he bites it I’m fine. “On that note; that is a transport
scroll of my own design. They’re not exactly good for the mental health of the
transported;  but that’s not really a concern, now is it?”


I catch the scroll easily, examining it for a moment before slipping it into my
pocket with a nod. I opened the door (which I now saw was actually metal
painted to look like wood on the outside). I paused at the door, leaning back
in to see the doctor setting about cleaning up the surgical table I so rudely
made a mess of, “Hey can I still grab some clothes, or…”


He sighed, waving a hand vaguely in my direction as he sprayed a suspicious
liquid over the table (having already thrown the body into one of the cages),
“Yes yes, take whatever you want. As your employer and sensei I can't have you
tromping about in rags; it would ruin my image if you were to represent me
looking like some common street rat.” I smirked and quietly closed the door
behind me, grinning at the racks of clothing before me; time to get some better
gear.


I left the shop decked out in brand spanking new clothes; dark (almost black)
purple pants, an equally dark red hoodie with a shitload of pockets worn
unzipped to reveal a black t-shirt (that I drew a symbol of Jashin on with
blood (given that literally no one knew about Jashinism to the point that
Konoha thought Hidan may have entirely fabricated the religion, I figured it
was safe enough to have a symbol of my allegiance on display (Jashin seemed
very pleased with my display of loyalty, purring discordantly in my head)),
and, perhaps most importantly, a pair of sturdy black combat boots.


Smirking, I wandered out of the front for organized slavery; twirling my scythe
and placing it on my back as I headed out in search of unfortunates to sell
into a life of unending misery and despair (taking a quick and uneventful stop
at the store next door to buy some weapons and storage seals). I shadowed my
eyes with a hand as I looked in random directions; trying to decide which way
to go. I have absolutely no idea where I am (even if I did know the village’s
name, I don’t exactly have a map to make use of the reference) and thusly
couldn’t figure out what was nearby.


Shrugging my shoulders I decided to just follow the path outside the main
entrance to the village; with any luck it would lead me to another village. I
have no idea what the maximum occupancy of the scroll the doctor (who’s name I
really should have asked for) gave me, but I intend to fill the fucker up;
always better to overperform than underperform, after all… well usually anyway.


Luckily for me the village was only a three day walk (without breaks) from
another little hamlet in the middle of fucking nowhere. Now, considering my
express purpose in coming here was to enslave the populous, I decided it would
be best to scope the place out before rushing in. A few days hiding in a tree
told me that this wasn’t a ninja village (though Jashin already told me that
before I even arrived; interestingly, the town  did  contain a serial killer,
but no true ninjas) and more importantly, where people went at different times.
By figuring out people’s general schedule I could find the best time to strike
to maximize captures while minimising risk and casualties (dead bodies are of
little use to a slaver).


One week after my arrival I attacked at three in the morning; using the cover
of night to veil my approach and trusting in my observations that most would be
asleep. The first building I approached was a little home on the edge of town
just big enough for a family of three (perhaps four if you stretch it) to live
comfortably. A quick check told me the door was locked but fortunately (for me,
not so much for them) they didn’t lock their windows.


Crawling through a window I found myself in what was clearly a child’s bedroom;
this fact was exemplified by the sleeping child. I smirked, pulling the human
transport scroll out of one of the numerous pockets in my hoodie and silently
moving to stand over the peacefully sleeping little girl. While I could have
some fun with her and her mother, logic tells me she’ll be worth more unspoiled
so I simply place the scroll seal first on her chest and pulse my chakra into
it; smirking as the child vanishes in a poof of smoke.


I slipped from her room as quiet as my muscle memory would allow (surprisingly
decent, really; though relying on skills I really don’t have is still annoying)
and searched the place; making sure to swipe any valuables I could find (thank
Jashin for storage seals!) on my way to the parents room. Unfortunately my
instinctive stealth wasn’t as good as one could hope and the father, a grizzled
looking man with an eyepatch over his left eye, confronted me as I left the
kitchen (not much to steal considering my lack of nutritional needs, but fine
cookware could go for something and if worst comes to worse I can always use a
kitchen knife as a weapon). By “confronted” I mean “attempted to stab me in the
throat from behind with a tanto”. Of course, with Jashin’s warning his attempt
failed miserably.


I whirled as soon as the man attacked, grabbing his wrist with one hand and his
throat with the other (having placed my scrolls in my pockets upon hearing
Jashin’s warning that someone was approaching with intent to harm). He stared
at me with hatred in his gaze, his dark eyes flicking to the symbol emblazoned
proudly on my shirt before returning to my own amused eyes. Oddly, it seemed
the man recognised the symbol if the way his hatred doubled upon spotting it
was anything to go by.


I smirked at him, squeezing his wrist until he dropped the blade, “Oh,
recognise that symbol do ya? What, cha have a run in with a Jashinist in the
past?” While I directed my mocking words to him I sent a question to Jashin
herself,  “He’s not a Jashinist is he? I wouldn’t want to sell one of your
cultists into slavery; not very champion like of me.”


“He is no follower of mine, nor of any who oppose me. His recognition of my
symbol is odd; most of my worshippers do not leave survivors.” I frowned
internally, making sure my smirk remained on the outside. She’s right,
Jashinists are so secretive that even the vast resources of one of the five
great nations could find nothing about them; some bumblefuck farmer in the
middle of assfuck nowhere recognising the symbol on sight was more than a touch
odd.


Wait, opposition? Guess it makes sense for a god like Jashin to have rivals.
“Not rivals, they have nowhere near the strength to oppose me directly, they
merely attempt to harry my disciples and hinder my efforts. Usually to no
avail.” Huh, some do-gooder dickbags might be coming my way because of my
connection to Jashin; good to know I guess. Still, the farmer’s recognition of
my symbol is first and foremost of my problems right now.


Well, I have one way of getting answers; loosening my grip I let him draw
enough breath to speak. He sputters, spitting a glob of saliva into my face,
barely missing my eye; said eye narrows, the only warning he gets before I slam
my fist into his gut. I nearly laughed at his choked expression of shock and
pain as my fist drove what little air I had allowed from his lungs; only the
crushing grip on his throat kept him from vomiting, though his body sure did
try. I smirked, “How about we try that again, hmm?” I wiped my face of on his
shirt sleeve, regaining my grip on the hand I had released to punish his
impunity. “I want to know how you recognise my symbol; your going to tell me or
I’ll cut off your cock and choke your wife to death with it while I rape her in
front of you, okay?” I smiled pleasantly at the man, looking as if I hadn’t
just issued a fairly heinous threat; though it hardly mattered considering his
probable fate once I handed him over to the doctor.


He sputtered and choked, desperately drawing air through a more than slightly
constricted throat. After sputtering for several minutes (during which I got
more and more agitated; I’m on a schedule, Jashin Damn it!) he finally started
talking, “You… fucking scum... proudly wearing the symbol of that monster!”


I blinked, of all the ways of describing a god of evil, monster seems a rather
benign choice. I raised an eyebrow, “And what monster would that be, hmm?” I
wanted confirmation; it was fully possible he was associating my symbol with
someone else (in which case I should probably kill them; can’t have some
pretender ruining my image) and actually knew nothing about Jashin or her
cultists.


Hatred burned in his eye like little campfires; of course, that only made my
smirk grow minutely. “The Endbringer, The Dawneater, The Unbeing, The Dar-
Gurk!” He was cut off when a knife plunged into his back, courtesy of the wife
I had forgotten about.


I scowled, snapping his neck and tossing aside his body (no way I’m letting
this cunt steal my kill, damn it!), glaring at the woman the whole time. “I was
using that. You know, it’s rude to damage other people’s property; honestly,
are manners just dead?” My sarcastic response to her blatantly killing her own
husband seemed to throw her off a bit.


She was short (even by this world’s admittedly poor standards) with pale skin,
blonde hair,and dull, mint green eyes. She wiped the surprise from her face and
her eyes flickered to my symbol (what is with this fucking town and recognising
the symbol of Jashin?) before her expression shifted to a glare.  “You have no
right to bare his mark.”


Her tone was flat, but her eyes did nothing to hide her hate and disdain. I
simply kept smirking, “Oh, who is this  he  you speak of? I must say, this is
certainly not his mark; perhaps I should have patented it, hmm?” My flippant
response seemed to anger her more. While most people would be less willing to
aggravate a woman who just cold bloodedly killed her husband;  I  am not most
people! There was nothing she could do to kill me if all she has is a knife
(not that she’d be any more successful with any other tool).


She scowled, “My Lord will be displeased to hear an unbeliever bore his mark as
if it were their own.”


I raised an eyebrow; that didn't answer fucking anything! Well, I suppose it
did tell me this mysterious  he  is likely the leader of some sort of cult…
“Is she one of your followers?”  I kept a close eye on her, expecting her to
attack me at any moment.


A long moment passed before Jashin replied, seeming almost hesitant.  “No… she
isn't. She has not given herself to me. Whomever has stolen my sigil must pay
for his insolence... sacrifice her to me; I will break her, and she will tell
me where her leader lays.”


I blinked. Holy shit! I’m closer to Mercer than I thought! I can learn what
people know by killing them?! Admittedly, it’s not quite the same; Jashin needs
to torture them for information rather than me just ripping it from their minds
but that only makes it marginally less useful.


A knife plunging into my neck reminds me of where I am. Apparently my momentary
conversation with Jashin (and the stunned revelation afterward) was enough of a
distraction for this bitch to try something. I gave her a blood stained smirk,
reaching up to grab the offending appendage. She attempted to pull her hand
free, likely thinking a dying man’s grip wouldn’t be all that strong; she
couldn’t have been more wrong. Shock spread over her face as she failed to pull
her hand from my grasp; the fear in her eyes only increasing the amusement in
mine.


I slowly pulled the knife from my neck (laughing as the wet sucking noise it
produced drew a disgusted expression from the woman) before slamming it into
the wall next to me. “Well, aren’t you a rude one.” My hand shot forth, long
fingers wrapping around her pale (though not as pale as me) throat, “I think
I’ll have to punish you for that…” I trailed off sinisterly, enjoying the fear
in here eyes; she knew exactly what I had in mind when I said that.
Unfortunately, I was on a tight schedule here and probably didn’t have time to
properly rape her...


I thought about it for a moment; what’s more important: enslaving the populous
and getting back to the doctor promptly, or having fun… A dark grin spread
across my face; meh, fuck punctuality, what’s the point of living if you don’t
indulge  yourself, hmm? Besides; I don’t exactly have to worry about damaged
goods anymore with her.


I tore her pajamas free, squeezing tighter around her throat to silence her
screams (don’t want to wake the neighbors before I can capture them). I didn't
particularly care if I strangled her to death (I was going to kill her for
Jashin regardless), but I would prefer if she  didn’t  die before I finished
fucking her; while she wouldn’t cool quick enough to really ruin it (or rot
quick enough to be distasteful), a lot of the fun is taken out if there's no
mind to break.


I roughly groped her with the hand that wasn’t choking her while I thrusted
into her; grinning at the way every squeeze and thrust drew a wince. My grin
faded slightly when her expression blanked; apparently she had some sort of
training to resist torture; though, judging by the tears in her eyes it wasn’t
as effective as she might like.


A quick punch to the gut broke her self-induced fugue. While it was satisfying
to see her sputter around my slightly loosened hand; I was getting kinda bored
at this point (it’s kinda dull to torture something that doesn’t scream and cry
properly). Unfortunately for her, the visceral satisfaction of beating her was
far more interesting at this point than relatively harmless rape. So I kept
doing it; punching randomly with one hand and strangling with the other, all
while continuing to thrust into her pussy.


Every time my fist met her flesh her muscles involuntarily clenched,
unintentionally squeezing my cock. The added stimuli of her random clenching
alongside the sadistic thrill of physically beating someone to death brought me
off rather quick; I timed my ejaculation to perfectly match a solid punch right
to her solar plexus.


Apparently, feeling my semen enter her womb managed to break her composure
better than strangulation, blunt force trauma, and rape combined as she finally
broke down crying, begging her lord to save her. As I stood up (dragging her
with me, and pulling my pants up with one hand) I once more wondered why
someone would worry about pregnancy when death is so much more likely.


Discarding the thought I pulled the kitchen knife from the wall, holding it in
a reverse grip as I held the woman aloft before me (making sure not to let any
of the cum dripping from her cunt get on my brand new pants or shoes). I knew
that as Jashin’s champion all of my kills count as sacrifices, but I figured I
may as well be a little more formal with this one.


I slowly pushed the blade into her chest just deep enough to scrape her lungs,
staring her in her wide, terrified eyes as I carved the symbol on my chest into
her’s. Blood flowed down her chest and into her lungs, turning her breaths from
choked to drowning as I pulled the blade free once more. Watching the blood
bubble from her lips, I couldn't help but smile; god I'm fucked up… but I love
it.


My smile grew, resembling my scythe in both curve and cruelty; if she's so
worried about pregnancy, perhaps I should alleviate her fears? I plunged the
eight inch blade into her womb, twisting the blade before pulling it out and
stabbing her groin over and over again. Blood (and semen) gushed free,
splattering up all over my arm (Jashin damn it; there goes my new coat!) as I
viciously mutilated her.


I must have stabbed her fifty times before I got bored and just disemboweled
her. I released my grip on her throat (she had too much blood in her lungs to
scream anyway) and tossed my impromptu implement of sharp and pointy death
aside, reaching down to pull out her guts. My bright eyes glittered as I
wrapped her intestines around her throat (always wanted to do that!) and
dragged her into the kitchen.


I hooked my foot on the stove handle, pulling it open with a grunt (being only
mildly surprised that my barely struggling victim didn't try to capitalize on
me literally standing on one leg). Smiling cheerfully, I shoved the bitch
inside; slamming the door shut and cranking the heat all the way up.


I stepped back, smirking sadistically.  If she's lucky she'll bleed out or
drown before the oven heats up; I hope she's not particularly lucky (running
into me kinda tells me she's not). My smirk twisted down as she pushed the door
open, feebly attempting to crawl free as her flesh began to bubble and burn.


Scowling, I kicked her in the face, slamming her back into oven. Two more swift
kicks had the cover back in place and bent to be difficult to open (especially
with melting hands). My smirk returned as I heard her futility banging on the
door; my natural inclination was to start humming a fitting tune of merry
malevolence, but I figured making excess noise was not a good idea when trying
to kidnap an entire village (getting all of them would be significantly more
difficult when they start running and screaming (mostly the running part)).


(Un)Fortunately  the rest of the village was nowhere near as interesting as the
first family; most of them weren’t even awake and those that were had no
situational awareness and never saw me coming (even the serial killer was
boring; all he had was a basement full of vivisected children). By the time the
sun rose I was boisterously singing as I strolled out of the now empty town,
ignoring the spreading flames (apparently leaving the stove on is rather
dangerous) slowly consuming the village. Hopefully the fire would hide any
evidence of my involvement (though I doubt anyone would even be aware I was
active to connect me to this); I don’t exactly want to get hunted twenty-four-
seven by Hunter-nin (yet; it’s not like I can really avoid it in the long run).


It wasn’t until I was halfway back to the “clothes” store that Jashin spoke up;
“The woman has broken. Her lord is a man by the name of Brion Relks who claims
to be a god. He is using his knowledge of chakra to convince an isolated
community of his divinity, using jutsu to validate it. While she didn’t know
how he was doing it, it seems he has some method of making people trust and
like him.”


I raised an eyebrow, “Brion Relks? Odd name for this land; doesn’t even sound
vaguely Japanese…” My eyes widen as the latter half of her words hit me, “Wait,
he has some sort of mind control technique?” A familiar grin spreads across my
face, “I can think of  so many delicious uses  for a technique like that.”
Slave harem, here I come!


I could hear the smirk in her voice,  “Indeed. He and his cult lay thirty miles
to the north and east. I do not like this false god belittling my symbol; his
continued existence is an insult. End him.”


A dark smirk spread across my face, “Oh, I will. I’ll kill his whole damn
congregation; for your honor and my ambition, none can be allowed to live.”
Cruel humor dripped like oil from my smile as I turned in the indicated
direction, dark chuckles following me. Looks like the doctor will just have to
wait, hmm?


0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000


The front line barely had time to scream before the lunatic was upon them, his
pilfered blade piercing a rookie officer’s throat. The boy’s scream turned to a
gurgling wail as the mad man moved on. His hand was a blur, slashing throats
and tendons, carving up veins and arteries; always aiming to maximise suffering
and blood loss. With no bullets in their guns and no time to reload, over a
dozen fell to the over large scalpel-like blade in moments.


Those closest to the carnage started drawing their own knives and nightsticks,
futilely attempting to combat the degenerate in close combat while those more
distant from the fighting reloaded. Unfortunately for those standing within
reach of the living blender the man had become, those who did have the
wherewithal to reload were unwilling to fire for fear of hitting their
comrades… at least at first.


Ten, perhaps twenty, men were cut to bloody chunks before those who had
reloaded began to fire; uncaring for the friends and allies they gunned down in
their desperate (and otiose) attempt to stave off the grisly end that was fast
approaching. Of the hundreds of rounds sent at the laughing psychopath, most
missed horribly and only added to the carnage by killing other cops; what few
hit the loon inflicted grevious wounds... that did absolutely nothing to even
slow him down.


The captain and his assistant hunkered down behind their car, staring in mute
shock as one man butchered the entire precinct. Within twenty minutes a force
over a hundred strong was reduced to so much slime; looking more like chunky
salsa than a police force.


Admittedly, their attacker looked like nothing less than a humanoid pile of
hamburger meat; but he was still standing nonetheless, his horrid wounds
visibly healing before the sickened eyes of the only survivors.


The captain slowly raised his gun, before pausing as his secretary physically
stopped him. He turned his head to look at him with eyes too stunned to hold a
question. The reedy man was holding out the captain’s phone, the number for his
military contact already pulled up. He was only ever meant to use that contact
in an extreme emergency; but if this doesn’t count as an emergency, he doesn’t
know what does.


He took the phone with shaking hands, pressing the call button with fingers so
coated in sweat and rain it looked like he had been swimming. A few moments
passed as the phone rang and the two men grew more and more afraid that no one
would answer… then the screen changed with a click. “Oi, the fuck you want?” A
gruff voice questioned irritably.


The captain ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair (where had his cap gone?),
“Th-this is Captain Fredick Nitche, identification number, 32987.” He hated the
way his voice shook, the weakness the warbling impied. “W-we have a serious
emergency; the entire precinct has been wiped out by a knife wielding lunat-
Gurk!” His words were cut off when a pale hand grasped his hair, pulling him
over the hood of the car.


A demented laugh once more tore the air as a chipped combat knife (apparently
he lost his amputation knife in the melee) plunged into the captain’s groin.
The phone fell from his grasp as the lunatic in question dragged the blade
upwards, exposing the officer’s innards to the the unceasing rainfall.
***** Shepherd of Fire *****
Shepherd Of Fire


Thirty miles is quite distance to cross on foot… if you’re not a ninja.
Traveling at my top speed it took me barely three minutes to reach the hidden
hovels inhabited by my unknowing foe.


I slowed down a couple miles outside the compound (and it was a compound,
nothing that military in design could be called a town, even as crude as it
was) on Jashin’s advice. Apparently this “Brion” was more intelligent than I
gave him credit for; in the dense forest surrounding the compound five man
squads roamed about in a vaguely organised manner.


Unfortunately for them, they were hardly ninjas. While that’s not too useful
considering I didn't really have any training; what little I had been able to
glean from letting by body run on autopilot was enough to sneak up on some
unsuspecting guards.


I barely kept from laughing as I landed near silently in a tree just above one
of the squads; none of these fools even bothered to look up, so certain in the
protection of their anonymity. The last of their little group walked backwards,
acting the rear-guard.


Now, my plan  was  to lower my scythe down, hook it under his chin, and pull it
up; cutting of his face and either killing him instantly or at least very soon.
Regardless, it would have been scary for his buddies. Instead, the dumb fuck
tripped and decapitated himself on my blade just before I got it in position.


Which, of course, made me burst out laughing.


Which gave away my position (the truncated scream and headless body gave away
my presence well enough on their own). Fortunately, incompetence won out and it
took them a few shocked seconds to react. A few shocked seconds was more than
enough for me to leap down and cleave two of the morons in twain with my blade
(not the easiest thing to do with a scythe, let me tell ya).


Interestingly, I felt something in me shift as life left the men in a gushing
river of gore; Jashin’s presence in my mind became a touch more solid, a little
more real. The most obvious change I could see was my sight and senses;
everything seemed sharper, more crisp and clear than I ever remembered the
world being.


The second thing I noticed was the way I subconsciously moved, the way I held
my blade; my movements were more refined, smooth and efficient in a manner
neither I nor Hidan ever possessed. Even to my own eyes my movements were odd
and off putting; machine-like and predatory.


When I looked upon the terrified survivors of my initial assault I could see
right through their shaky stances, knew exactly how to swing my blade to
inflict maximum suffering and damage. It wasn't like the Sharingan, there was
nothing predictive or slow motion about it; I just instinctively knew how to
break them.


Evidently the massive smile I used to cover my uncertainty was quite
terrifying, if the wet stain spreading across the crotch of one of the men's
pants was anything to go by.  “Jashin, what the hell is happening to me!?”  I
cried in my head, while the changes were useful, the fact that I had been
modified at all was more than a touch unsettling.


“Fear not, my champion. This is merely a side effect of us growing closer. Your
soul grows closer to my core as our relationship gets closer; this can be
achieved through both spending time to get closer and by gifting me with
sacrifices. Using the souls of those you sacrifice, I modify your soul to
better adapt to my increased presence; this has a number of beneficial side
effects.”


I blinked, watching the cowering militants slowly attempt to rally for an
attack.  “How can sacrifices increase our closeness? Wouldn't we have to get to
know and like each other or some shit to become closer?”  Honestly, murder as a
substitute for intimacy?


“Truthfully, they can't. Not on their own, anyway. Both actual mutual affection
and copious amounts of murder are necessary to truly grow closer; however, in
these early stages we are already close enough for sacrifices alone to be all
that's required for the the adaptations to occur. Later stages will require, as
you put it, “ Getting to know and like each other or some shit.” to attain .”
Her voice held a trace of humor as she mimicked my voice.


I smirk, dashing forward and crushing one of the men's throats with the front
of my scythe blades (still need to find a way to sharpen that)  before swiping
to the left and driving the longest blade through the side of the last
“soldier’s" head.  “Well then, when I'm done making an example of this town
(I'm thinking impalement?) we’ll have a sit down and talk some. Ya got anything
you'd particularly like me to do?”  While I absolutely hated the idea of being
anyone's servant, a healthy relationship involves give and take and I'm willing
to do favours for those I care about. While I can't say I truly care for Jashin
all that much as of now, I can see no benefit to deliberately trying to
distance myself from my patron god… even if my hatred of authority figures give
me a disdain for gods in general.


“For now, just ensure the false prophet suffers; though later I want to learn
more about you.”


I shrugged, moving to search the bodies for any loot I could find. Finding
nothing of interest, I stood up with a scowl. I turned my eyes towards the
projected paths of the other three patrols (though, considering the screams
these idiots managed to let out, it’s quite possible I won’t need to go hunting
for them at all),  “Really, just torture the dumb cunt? Do you have any goals I
could help facilitate?”



A dark chuckle sounded in my mind and I could have sworn the shadows around me
deepened, though on second glance it seems it was just the other patrols
seeking out the screams. Heh, like incredibly retarded moths to a pile of
burning moths.



“Hmhmhmhmhm…. Merely spread chaos, fear, death, and pain to the world. That is
what I want… for now.”


I shrugged, “Chaos, eh?” I turned my glittering eyes to the infidels, “Sounds
fun.” My smile matched my scythe as the cultists surrounded me in a loose but
visibly disciplined circle. My smile grew to a malicious grin beneath eyes
half-lidded with sadistic anticipation as they drew ramshackle blades. Not a
one seemed to match the others; had they not been wearing what looked vaguely
like uniforms, I would have sworn they were nothing but bandits.


My disparaging opinion didn't improve when they gave a ragged battle cry and
charged me en masse; completely abandoning any sort of organisation. My scythe
lashed out as the fastest amongst them got within comfortable reach, sending
three decapitated bodies to fall at my feet.


A blade slid through my left cheek and out the right, grinding against my teeth
as it passed. I smiled, the motion widening the tears in my face as I licked
the blade in my mouth, turning my eyes to look at the militia man who stabbed
me.


The man stuttered out an incomprehensible stream of words (likely an insult or
cry of fear)  and tried to pull his blade free. Key word,  tried.  As soon as I
felt the blade moving back I bit down as hard as I could, my chakra enhanced
and Jashin given strength shattering the rusty iron with ease; leaving the man
with a jagged foot of metal rather than three feet of what might have
generously been called a sword.


He stared at the hunk of metal for a moment before I spat the chunks of metal
in my mouth into his face; the chakra enhanced projectiles acting like a
shotgun blast and turning his head into chunky salsa (and mangling my lips in
the process).


A sharp jerk of my neck sent the piece of blade still lodged in my cheek flying
through the air to pierce another man's eye, sending him falling to the earth
with a cry of pain and splurt of blood. I smirked at the remaining squad,
walking towards the screaming soldier.


I made sure to look each man in the eye as I stood above the screamer, setting
the sole of my boot atop the spike of metal in his eye. My smirk widened as I
slowly drove the spike home, twisting my heel (and subsequently the blade) to
inflict greater suffering. Spasms rocked his body as the twisting blade was
driven deeper and deeper into his brain, destroying more and more of what made
him him (although, with my knowledge that souls exist, that may not be entirely
true).


When I felt the blade pierce the earth beneath the writhing man's skull I
stopped pushing down, lifting my foot into the air with a joyous laugh. I
brought my foot down with a wicked cackle, taking great pleasure in the way the
man's skull exploded beneath my foot like an overripe watermelon in front of an
artillery battery (though, I appreciated the blood and brain matter splattered
all over my pants and boots far, far less).


My maniacal smile grew as my glittering eyes landed on the survivors; seeing my
own gleefully malevolent expression reflected in their terrified orbs. My eyes
were almost friendly, filled with a warm light that looked like it could draw
people in, but placed above my smile, the light in my eyes could never be
mistaken for anything but sadism; the warmth just a little  too  hot, gaze just
a little  too  intense.


Meh, being able to look like a nice guy can be useful, I guess; it’ll make
infiltration (and indoctrination) easier, if nothing else.


I watched, amused, as the cultists backed away in a panic, most looking like
they were a half-step from breaking into an outright sprint (so much for
discipline, eh?). I took a sudden step forward, just to see what would happen,
and was rewarded with one of them actually throwing down his sword and
sprinting away… straight into a tree.


I burst out laughing, leaning so far back to cackle to the heavens that I
almost fell on my ass. My perfectly sane (completely psycho-bonkers-crazy)
cachinations seemed to deeply unsettle the still conscious (seriously, the
dipshit knocked himself out? Bwahahaha!) thugs, if the faint odor of shit
seeming to waft off one of them was anything to go by.


Now, I  could  have just swiftly rendered them down to tiny, leaking pieces and
moved on. That would be the smart, efficient thing to do. But I knew myself
well enough to know I could never pass up an opportunity to torture some mice;
besides, I was here to send a message, wasn’t I? Nothing quite like antemortem
mutilation to send a pretty damn clear message.


Unfortunately, none of the remaining morons were women so my straight ass
couldn't really rape them (I could try but hairy, unwashed men aren't gonna get
me hard enough to have fun without spending the time to skin them and remove
the annoying aspects (maybe I could nail one's ass to another's chest to
simulate breasts… thoughts for the future)), nor do I have time to properly
torture them; guess I'll have to settle for particularly messy deaths.


Three blades sprouted out of the stomach of the only man to actually turn and
watch his compatriot slam face first into a tree, his laughter turning to a
gurgling scream in an instant (though I'm sure he appreciated my laughter
replacing his own). I wrenched my scythe to the side, nearly bisecting the man
and spilling his innards on the forest floor as the blades were torn free.


My grin glowed in the moonlight as I moved, slashing my blade (still trailing
intestines) into the side of one of the men, piercing both lungs and severing
his spine. He would die a slow, miserable death; unable to so much as crawl as
his mutilated lungs filled with blood.


The last conscious man stumbled back, falling on his ass and still attempting
to crawl away as I pulled my blade from his fellow’s chest, letting him drop to
the earth like a stringless marionette. I walked over the fallen man,
deliberately stepping on him to show my disregard for him as I slowly advanced
on the weeping soldier, my blade drawn back and over my head like the reaper
come to claim his soul (not far from the truth really, considering I am going
to take his soul).


He kept crawling backwards until his back met a tree, the sudden contact having
him instinctively look back to see what he hit. That was his last mistake. My
scythe sliced through the air as easily as it did his guts, slitting open his
stomach and letting his innards fall out. He didn’t even get to scream before I
slammed my scythe down on lower abdomen; the upper blade went through his
already mutilated guts while the middle sliced his cock in half.


His girlish scream of unfathomable agony was sweet music to my ears as I slowly
pushed my scythe forward, my pure strength driving the blunt end through his
intestines and out his back (pushing him away from the tree).


I pulled free my trusty scythe, trailing the cultist’s intestines as I turned
towards the compound. My dark grin widened as I turned my gaze to the
unconscious survivor.


0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o


Brion sat as his desk, fingers clenched to a white knuckle grip on the random
document he pensively stared at with unfocused eyes.  He had heard the screams…
and the laughter; someone had butchered his external patrols. Odds were, that
same someone was about to come and butcher his town, destroy everything he had
worked for for so long.


His hands balled into fists, crinkling the (likely very important) paper into a
ball. How, how had it come to this? How had this happened? All his plans, all
his actions, all his  sacrifices ; all meaningless…


Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned, staring
out the window in his office facing out to the whole of his compound (his
guards had hated  that  little addition to the plans). It took him a second to
see what caught his eye, something was falling from the sky towards the center
of the compound. Disbelief danced with horror as he watched a body fall from
the moonlit sky.


It hit the ground with a splat, sending blood and blood-stained paper flying
about it; in fact, it hit the ground so hard that broken bits of cobblestone
flew up around it. A long moment passed in silence, a pool of blood spreading
around the unfortunate man. People slowly trickled out from where they had run
to; coming to see what had happened, to gawk at the disturbance to their daily
routine. Even he released a relieved breath when nothing further happened…
until lights poured from the body’s innards, shining out of its every orifice
(and the numerous gaping wounds across it); illuminating the numerous paper
seals within and without.


The explosion tore up the square, knocking down or severely damaging several
buildings and reducing the crowd of maybe fifteen people around it to so much
jelly. His eyes could not widen further as he stared upon the blood streaked
ruins of all he had done.


Or, at least, that's what he thought. The visual orbs nearly fell from his head
when the compound’s gate exploded inward, blasting off its armoured hinges like
a domino struck by a god; reducing the guards stationed there to paste.


There was no smoke to clear and the man (monster) who blasted down the gate was
immediately visible. Amaranthine eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as the pale
man lowered his overstretched hand.  High pitched and malevolent laughter
rolled from the man; the wicked sound creeping into the town, slithering into
the survivors minds and settling over the wreckage like a heavy, vile miasma of
malignity.


Brion’s pale green eyes widened in horrified realization as he saw just who was
standing at his gates; Hidan the Immortal had come to reap what he had not
sown.


Shaking hands ran through thinning blonde hair; how had he not thought of this,
how could he have ignored the possibility. He had never thought that the
fanatic might sniff out his operations, might see his heretical use if the
man's symbol and come seeking vengeance. Even if the man had simply stumbled
upon his village by pure coincidence; he was the only S-rank ninja  known  for
committing random acts of senseless violence.


Brion tried to ignore the sweat dripping down his skin as the laughing
psychopath walked into his village; choosing instead to press a single button
on his desk.


There was a brief burst of static before a voice came through,  [Sir?]  The
voice was gruff and serious, a soldier who had dedicated their life to the art
of murder.


Brion took a deep breath before responding, “An intruder, an  infidel , has
infiltrated the compound.”


He could  feel  the contempt pouring from the voice.  [So those incompetent
fools guarding the forest were eliminated?]


“It would appear so, yes.” He chanced a look out the window, seeing the serial
killer entering a house; from the screams that emanated from it soon after he
presumed the little family of regulation four was not having a good time. He
wondered idly if any of the forty eight civilians that called his compound home
would live to see the morrow. He shook his head,  probably not.  “Your standing
orders still apply; repel or eliminate the intruder…” Blood splattered the
upstairs window of the house the madman entered, “...by any means necessary.”


There was no hesitation in his most devout soldier’s voice,  [Yes, Sir.]  A
glance out the window showed his elite guards rushing out of his mansion to
confront the maniac butchering his people.


Brion gave a deep sigh, watching his men clash with the immortal for a moment
before standing up. A miserable chuckle left him as he walked into the shadows
behind his desk.


0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0p0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o


My eyes gleamed as I watched the clearly more competent (though no more
intelligent) cultists stream out of the largest building like ants from their
nest. I laughed as they surrounded me, the cachinations growing all the louder
and more gleeful when I saw how few were visibly unsettled by the insidious
sound.


My shining eyes followed the men as they encircled me. I didn't show it, but I
was genuinely surprised they hadn't simply rushed me. My cacophonous laughter
quieted to simple chuckles as a single man broke the wall of soldiers, his long
black trench coat flowing behind him.


I raised an eyebrow, pointedly looking him up and down. “You got somethin’ to
say, Reinhard?” Seriously, dude was a dead ringer for the architect of the
Final Solution (at least in the face, he was dressed more like a caricature of
an evil SS officer; the only difference was instead of swastikas, this guy wore
symbols of Jashin… I'm totally stealing that costume.)


His grim expression was unchanging, “I have no idea who this “Reinhard" is, but
I am certainly not he. My name is-"


I held up a hand, index finger extended. “I'mma stop ya there; I don't give a
fuck who ya are.” I leaned back, holding my hands up and at my sides in a cocky
gesture, “See, at the end of the day, I came here to kill everyone; and that's
just what I'm gonna do.” My eyes, closed to emphasize my shrug like gesture,
snapped open, locking with the apparently leader of this lot. I knew I was
losing out on profits by not enslaving anyone in this town, but I honestly
don’t care; money is just a garnish on my entertainment, not the true goal.
Here, I came to make a statement and have some fun. Besides, if I  really
needs something I can’t afford (or don’t want to have a record of owning), I’ll
just steal it.


His steel blue eyes were hard and cold like an arctic storm. “Hmph, impetuous
imbecile; you will receive no burial.” Apparently his words were the signal for
his men to attack me from all sides. Unlike the rabble I had slaughtered
outside the compound earlier these men were competent and organised; they knew
exactly how to commit to a mass charge at a superior opponent and not a one of
them seemed hesitant to risk or even lose their lives if it brought me down.


Now, while I like to think of myself as quite the badass, when thirty well
trained men with swords rush you from all sides; dodging isn't really feasible.
I tried, of course, swinging my scythe around me and jumping into the air;
while I managed to kill three of the bastards with my swing, the jump only
meant I was impaled on well over a dozen blades from below when I came back to
the earth.


I stared at the pillars of steel piercing my flesh for a moment before they
were torn to the sides, rupturing my perforated body and splashing my innards
all around. Luckily for me, my innards are more decorative than anything (and
Jashin’s influence meant that only ten percent of the mind shattering agony
actually came through as such, the rest was either just gone or turned to
pleasure);  un fortunately, I still wasn’t capable of much in the way of
movement with my body damn near quartered. Standing up would be nigh impossible
considering my spine was torn to pieces; while I may be able to get to my feet,
my upper body would not be able to remain upright and I’d end up dragging most
of my body around.


My initial plan was just to lay on the ground and pretend to be dead until I
was healed; that plan went out the window when the assholes all around me
started covering me in alcohol soaked rags. It doesn’t take a genius to figure
out why a military group would be covering a downed foe in a flammable
substance; whether they knew I was immortal or not was irrelevant if they
intended to burn my body.


Luckily for me, my abysmal chakra control still allowed for one “technique”: my
bastard form of the explosion release/super strength. Channeling my chakra into
the rags covering my body and the ground beneath me caused a rather violent
explosion; made all the more destructive when the highly flammable scraps of
cloth met the torches they had intended to burn me with.


Normally I would be laughing my ass off at a crowd of burning morons running
around and screaming like headless, flaming chickens. Unfortunately, I forgot
to take into account how this would affect  me;  spoilers, I got turned into
fucking jelly.


 And, of course, I was also on fire. Lovely.


“Well fuck, how the hell am I gonna get outta this?”  Somehow, even though I
didn't have anything resembling eyes at this point, I was still frantically
looking around. It took me a moment to realise I was staring down at my own
mangled body as it slowly turned to ash.


“While you could simply wait for me to build you a new body from scratch or
rebuild your old one; it would be more efficient to simply take advantage of
the empty bodies laying around.”  My metaphysical eyes widened dramatically,
looking about me and truly seeing for the first time. The living seemed to
possess an internal glow, a radiant life to them that was absent in the dead;
what I could only assume was a soul calling out for me to devour.


I shook off the sudden rush of rampant bloodlust, and started looking for a
(mostly) intact corpse to posses. While I'm a rather sceptical guy by nature, I
was inclined to believe Jashin when it came to abilities I possessed.  “How
exactly do I take over a corpse?”  My eyes settle on the most intact body I
could see, a short man who was apparently sent flying by the explosion and
broke his neck on impact; while the damage was easily fixed, the drop in height
was less than ideal.


“Merely enter the body, I will do the rest for now.” A moment passed as I
walked over to the empty body before Jashin spoke back up, humor evident in her
voice.  “You needn't worry about the meatbag’s features, the blueprint of your
soul will overwrite the empty flesh.”


Kneeling over the corpse I shrugged and stuck my hand in his chest. It felt
like dipping my hand into cold oil; cloying and wet in an unsettlingly
disturbing way. The unpleasant sensation was quickly shoved to the back of my
mind when I felt myself being sucked into the body.


My first instinct was to fight the pull, but I knew what it was (or, at least I
hoped so) and just let it happen. A moment later I was vindicated as my new
bodies senses flooded my mind and my spiritual senses fled.


I slowly sat up, feeling my neck crack back into place. As I shakily rose to my
feet I could  feel  myself growing taller (and boy did  that  not help my
balance), a quick glance from eyes I could feel shifting confirmed that my skin
tone was growing more and more pale, and the short brown hair I could see in
the corner of my eye slowly bleached and slid into the same permanently slicked
back “style” (seriously, it just fucking grows that way!) it always had.


Luckily, before my changes had finished I had managed to stumble over to the
puddle if burning goo that was my former body. I examined myself, grimacing at
my utterly ruined clothes (what few scraps weren't reduced to ashes were more
blood than cloth). However, a grin spread across my face as my eyes settled on
my scythe; my  wholly undamaged  scythe.


I have no idea what the damn thing is made out of, but it seems like it’s damn
near indestructible; at first glance the crimson blades might have looked
burned and the handle damaged, but a cursory wip of the hand revealed that it
was merely covered in blood and ashes, the magnificent weapon beneath utterly
unscathed.


I smiled, hearing the random background mutters of the soldiers milling about
around me start to become more excited as I picked up the blade, strapping the
spool of wire to my waist (all my other shit was ruined, damn it! Guess I’ll
have to steal replacements from these idiots.). A dark grin spread across my
face as I gave my scythe a whirl, only growing wider when someone placed a hand
on my shoulder.


“Soratsu, the hell do you think your-” He didn’t get the chance to finish
chastising whoever he thought I was. In a blur of movement I had whirled
around, driving my palm into his chest and channeling an absurd amount of
chakra into my palm. I grinned as his innards blasted out his back, most of his
body having been essentially turned inside out by the devastating failure of
the surface cling. Once more my sinister laughter rang out as intestines rained
down on my enemies heads.



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The assistant stared in horror as his boss’s scream was cut off with a gurgle,
rainwater filling his chest cavity like the bleakest of bowls. The shredded
maniac’s laughter sunk into his bones like a virus, shaking him to his very
core as the man’s cruel green eyes slowly settled on his own.


The phone’s cracked screen still displayed an ongoing call, a fact that was
only exemplified by the faint voice he could here from it. “Confirm location, I
repeat; confirm location!” The voice was growing angry, a note of confusion and
concern barely noticeable to the assistant’s untrained ears.


In a move he never would have thought himself capable of before, the assistant
 darted forward, snatching up the fallen cellphone and sprinting for some sort
of cover. He pulled the damaged phone to his ear, shouting into the speaker to
be heard over his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “We are at county hospital
on the corner of- Gahh!”


He was cut off mid sentence, a sharp pain in his back followed by horrible
numbness from below it interrupting his speech. His legs gave out beneath him
and he tumbled to the asphalt below; the impact sending bolts of pain through
his upper body, but horrifyingly, he felt nothing below where he had felt the
sharp pain.


The cell phone clattered away, a little river of blood and water slowly
ferrying it away from his desperately grasping hands. He couldn’t move his
legs, couldn’t move anything below his middle back, but even so he desperately
dragged himself towards the damaged phone; he needed to confirm the location,
needed to get reinforcements here.


He could hear the laughing psychopath getting closer, walking at a deliberately
slow pace; seeking to draw out his suffering no doubt. Nonetheless, he dragged
himself forward with broken nails and bloody fingers.


He was inches from grabbing the phone (having managed to crawl ever so slightly
faster than the water could carry the phone) when a heavy weight settled on his
shoulders, putting an abrupt end to his journey. Tear filled eyes watched as
the water carried the phone ever closer to a storm drain.


The weight on his back grew more and more intense as he struggled to draw
breath with strained lungs. In one last desperate gamble he roared out the
location of the attack, praying to whatever gods were listening for the soldier
on the other side of the phone to hear him.


Unfortunately for him, the only god of note paying any attention was Jashin,
and she wasn’t feeling very charitable right then. As the last syllable left
the desperate man’s throat, the knife the possessing serial mass murder had
throw with such pinpoint precision as to neatly sever the fleeing man’s spine
was pulled from his back with a nasty twist. The last thing the man saw before
his eyes were gouged from his skull was the phone going over the lip of the
drain, its screen very clearly dead.


Hidan took his time with the runner, slowly sawing at his skin with an almost
surgical precision born of long experience; flaying away the man’s skin in one
piece. Skinning a man alive was more of an art than a science, though it was
certainly easier when they couldn’t move. Blood flowed like a river as more and
more flesh was cut away from the muscle below it, agonised screams following it
into the distance.


Hidan wasn’t worried about someone hearing the music of misery; he wanted them
to hear, to see his art in action. Jashin was pleased, he could  feel  it; and
that was all that matter to him. He may not have been a good champion, but he
was  a damn good killer.
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