Ghost Eyes

Turns out, knowing the general area of something and knowing the specific location of a hidden base are two very different things. I spent several days dicking around in the general area of the Mountain Graveyard before Jashin spoke up, “There is a massive source of bloodshed and darkness nearby.”

I grinned, that could easily be either Madara, who had probably individually murdered more people than anyone else, or Zetsu, who was the cause of nearly every conflict in history; either one will lead me where I want to go.

Following Jashin’s guidance soon brought me to a cave, or more accurately, the opening to an abandoned mine. I heavily suspect it was covered in genjutsu that would set most people’s heads spinning; unfortunately for the Ghost of the Uchiha, I’m completely immune to genjutsu, no matter how skilled the caster.

I swaggered on in, looking around to find Madara and hopefully not get dogpiled by a billion Zetsus. Fortunately, Madara was apparently too confident in his genjutsu to layer his retirement home in traps and the Zetsus were too busy tripping out in the basement to work as security. Where Black Zetsu and Obito were I have no idea.

A few minutes of wandering about was all it took to find the deadliest man to ever live. He was just sitting there in his throne by that damned tree, waiting. I couldn't tell whether he knew I was coming or just wanted to look like it; considering he went all “I AM GOD!” near the end, either choice is possible.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes as I approached, greeting me with a voice laced with disdain. “Oh, and who are you, brat? Certainly not that fool Obito.”

I laughed, “Who,” I brought a hand to my chest theatrically, “Little old me?”

“Hn™, your attempts at humor are grating boy; speak plainly. Who are you and why are you here?”

I kept my smirk up, trying to cover up my nervousness. Madara Uchiha, no matter how old and decrepit, is still Madara Fucking Uchiha; on a particularly good day I would give a guy with my skill set a decidedly poor chance of beating him, and I was severely handicapped. I had to un-poison my scythe because every one of the poisons caused some form of tissue damage and the possibility they could damage his eyes was unacceptable; for the same reason I couldn’t use most of my Jutsu.

Given these horrible disadvantages, one may be wondering how I had any hope of beating the living legend. Two words: immortality and teleportation. Going up against Madara in his prime, I have no doubt he would shit stomp me no matter how many times I came back; maybe, maybe I would be able to wear him down if I gave him no rest for, like, a decade or so or I might get lucky and get a drop of blood if he doesn't know about my abilities and that’s the game, but in his prime I doubt I would ever really have a chance. This was not Madara in his prime. Age has slowed him, lessened his stamina, and crippled his body; this is a Madara I can beat. All I need is a drop of blood and its all over.

I didn’t bother answering; instead I teleported right in front of him, my hand shooting out to slam into his chest and hopefully destroy his torso (though, given how durable ninjas are that’s not guaranteed). My eyes lit up behind my glasses when his snapped open, revealing those beautiful Sharingan to me.

I wasn’t surprised when his cane smashed into the side of my wrist and redirected my blow into his throne as he shot to his feet away from me. Wooden shrapnel shot everywhere as I blasted apart the chair (the tree behind it remained unharmed); Madara dodged every piece with ease while some hit me, bouncing off my strengthened skin and clothes.

I didn’t give him time to recover, slashing upwards at him with my scythe as I whirled to face him. He flicked his cane out, catching the top of my blade and lifting himself into the air through it. He flipped over, pulling a blade from the cane and whirling to cut me in half.

I tilted my head to the side, allowing the blade to catch me on the shoulder and sink in and catch on the bone. I leaned my neck over the wound, trapping his blade before grinning up at him, opening my mouth and shooting out my tongue like a harpoon, the serrated bone tip lancing towards his chest (a little modification inspired by Orochimaru).

His eyes widened (which sent a jolt of pleasure through me at having surprised the Uchiha Madara) even as he moved, releasing is blade and rolling to the side. Were he in his prime, he would have easily avoided the blow; as is, it slammed into his left shoulder and pierced right through, writhing about to cause as much damage with its barbs as possible and thoroughly coat itself in blood. I didn't bother trying to wrap him up, knowing he would easily cut himself free.

My grin widened to its face-splitting limit as I retracted the blood coated organ0; both shooting out and retracting taking a fraction of a second each. This was one of my favorite modifications, designed to capitalize on my strengths and take people off guard. While it could kill or even restrain someone, it was designed to cause pain and draw blood; my saliva had a chemical that increased sensitivity, thus making the pain even worse.

The moment the blood coating my tongue touched my lips my skin began to blacken, white bone marks showing up. I didn't fuck around and waste time torturing him (both out of urgency and respect), simply using a suicide technique that sent thousands of volts racing through my body. My heart stopped immediately; of course, it meant nothing to me, but to Madara…

...It also apparently meant nothing. I blinked, baffled as the old man simply glared at me. He was halfway through a set of hand seals before I shaped out of my shock (given this is Madara Motherfucking Uchiha, that wasn't a very long time).

My purple eyes flickered over the room, trying to understand how he had survived as I idly snapped my left wrist to interrupt his jutsu. Madara simply stared at me across the room, obviously trying to figure out how to beat my voodoo technique just as I tried to puzzle out his survival.

It didn't take me long to understand what was happening; several blood red vines traveled between his back and the tree he used as life support. Somehow, whatever that tree is doing to help him stave off old age is also either healing him quick enough to prevent death or straight up preventing it absolutely.

Madara charging at me almost faster than I can track broke me from my thoughts. I rose an eyebrow behind my glasses, whipping out a telescoping pike and driving it through my right knee. I expected him to drop to the earth like Asuma; He did no such thing. Not only did he not stop, he gave no impression of being injured at all.

I dodged his swipe, jumping to the side and slashing out to lop off his head. He crouched to avoid the swing, using the movement to leap into a thrust. I leaned back just a touch to slow, the blade that would have pierced my heart instead skewering my under the chin and out the top of my head. I leaned back further, letting the blade slice through my face as I dropped into a handstand kick to the chin… that he easily dodged, slashing down to cut me in half and forcing me to leap away.

I stared at him, seeing no sign of my wounds on him. “How. How? How?! How did he break free!?” I was almost in full panic mode now; Madara just shrugged of my trump card like it wasn’t even there.

I ducked under a swipe, teleporting to swing at the back of the legend’s neck as Jashin spoke up, “He didn’t… the connection is still there.” I grimaced, both in response to Jashin’s words and to Madara backflipping over my swipe to slash at my throat; if this is him near dead, I’m so, so glad I didn’t try to challenge him at his best.

Once more the decrepit old man proved to be slightly faster than me, his blade catching my throat a second before I teleported away. This was yet another reason I wanted the Sharingan; the vastly increased reaction time and perception would allow me to better utilize my teleportation in combat. My neck healed up near instantly after I reappeared on the other side of the little cage, behind and to the left of the godseeker; the shallow wound closing almost before it could bleed. “If the connection isn’t broken, why are my wounds not showing up on him?” I sent a bolt of lightning at the Uchiha’s back, grinning externally and grimacing internally when he whirled around, slashing through the bolt with a kunai he proceeded to fire at me.

“He didn’t break the connection to his blood… he changed his blood.” My eyes widened as his kunai darted forthe faster than I could see and shot through my chest like a rifle shot; the lightning seeming to greatly enhance its speed.

Ignoring the closing hole in my chest, my eyes drifted to the pulsating crimson vines attached to the elder’s back. “So you’re telling me that if someone performs a full blood transfusion to replace their blood, they can escape my connection?” I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t told me that; it’s not exactly a common circumstance.

A plan formed in my head as I tore my gaze away from the vines and back to the Ancient Uchiha… just in time for a giant blue fist to slam into me. I felt the wall behind me touch my back an instant before I teleported away.

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I reappeared in the middle of the room, my scythe swinging to cut through the vines keeping Madara alive. The Gaze of the Destroyer told me all I needed to know; Madara only had one vital point and it was these vines.

A second massive blue hand shot towards me, backhanding me into the wall. The two impacts turned most of my insides to jelly; not that it much mattered. I twitched my arm, gripping the wall of the shallow crater I was lodged in. Before I could pull myself out a massive blue sword impaled my… everything, utterly destroying my torso and leaving only my head and limbs mostly intact.

Blood flowed between my teeth like a crimson river as I glared at the Uchiha through my broken sunglasses. As the tinted glass refilled the empty frames a smirk crossed my blood stained lips. Just as Madara started twisting his Susano’o’s blade I teleported away, leaving a large web of explosive seals scrawled on the wall (learning that particular sealling trick was a bitch and a half; the chakra control required to create a permanent seal out of nothing is fucking nuts. Luckily I didn't really need this one to be permanent).

The rather massive blast did nothing to the Susano'o blade, simply widening the crater and perhaps slightly pushing the blade back; but that wasn't their purpose. No, they were meant as a distraction.

Whether the distraction actually worked or Madara’s magnificent eyes saw through my deception as easily as they did everything else, I truly don't know or particularly care. I appeared behind Madara’s throne, amongst the vines at the base of the “tree" he was hooked up to. I slapped my palm against the trunk, channeling Jashin’s power through it and ignoring the strangely pleasurable feeling of cosmic evil flowing through me. A black symbol of Jashin that seemed to radiate darkness burned itself onto the tree as my hand began to mutate. As an eye blinked at me from the back of my hand black veins began to spread across the tree; corrupting it, twisting it from its purpose to something malign and cruel.

I had to pull my hand away when small tentacles started slithering out from between the scales on my wrist. Of course, considering my lack of a torso, releasing my grasp on the tree resulted in me crumbling to the ground like a pile of discarded offal. Even so, I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I watched thick, cancerous black corruption spread across the great “tree”; especially focusing on the vines connected to Madara.

I slowly stood up, my torso recovered enough to support weight (though a normal man would fold like house of cards before a shotgun), laughter spilling out between my pointed teeth. My wide eyes gleamed behind my glasses, an unholy purple light shining out around the edges.

Madara grimaced, lowering his sword and speaking for the first time since he first addressed me. “Hn, your smarter than you look, brat. You never answered my question: who are you and why are you here?”

I laughed once more, “My names Hidan and I just happened upon you.” I lied carelessly, shrugging my shoulders, “When I recognised who you were I just couldn’t resist challenging the strongest man to ever live.”

A faint smirk appeared on the ancient legend’s face at my remark as Jashin’s toxic touch reached him, “Hn, it’s a shame I’m so reduced. It may have been fun to dance with one like you at my best.”

My smile faded to a more wistful thing as his flesh began to blacken and wither, “Yeah, it really is a shame I’ll never get to see you at your best for myself.” “Please don’t destroy his eyes, Jashin; this whole thing was pointless if they’re damaged.”

“You needn’t worry; they will survive, unharmed.” Somehow I got the impression she had something planned for those eyes. I lowered my scythe but didn’t completely drop my guard. I’ve never been one for honour, always thought it was a pointless and self destructive ideal, but there was something… distasteful about killing a man like Madara like this. Not only was he a legendary figure in this world, he was one of my favorite characters as well; watching him wither away as a foe he could never slay devoured him alive seemed… wrong somehow.

Not that I was gonna stop just because I felt a little off.

Madara laughed even as his legs lost the ability to bear his weight, “Perhaps we’ll meet again, hm?”

I shook my head, walking towards the fallen king. “I doubt it.” Jashin is a bit more possessive about her souls than the Shinigami, I doubt the Edo Tensei will be able to wrench him from her grasp.

I watched Madara’s eyelids peel back as his flesh distorted; the fact that he hadn’t even flinched, let alone screamed, as Jashin’s power ravaged his body was quite impressive. I stood over him, my damaged clothes repairing over my now pristine flesh as his rotted away. His jaw moved as if he was attempting to speak, though no words came out, only blackened blood. He gave one last rattling gasp before slumping over; dead.

I nodded at the dreamer’s body, kneeling down next to him. I gave his shoulder a light shove, pushing him over onto his back, his body partially crumbling into black ashes. The only part of him that showed no signs of damage was his eyes, but even they were changed; the sclera having blackened and the red iris having turned purple. “I decided to customize it for you, alter it just a touch.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Oh, did you change anything other than the colour scheme?”

I got the impression of a shrug as I pulled a jar full of a fluid designed by Rinri to keep organs nice and fresh. “I personalized your Susano’o to fit you better than him and enhanced his abilities a touch. I would do more, but I’d end up destroying them. Perhaps I'll be able to change them more once they're part of you as we get closer.”

I blinked, highly interested in further enhancements. “Oh, what are his abilities anyways?”

I got a vague impression of surprise, surprisingly. “You didn't know?”

I shrugged, removing each eye with the utmost care. “He never used them canonically. Kind of odd actually, you'd think a man fighting for his life and his dreams would do everything in their power to survive; you know, pull out all the stops.”

A dark voice spoke up behind me just as I plopped the last eye into the tube, “That would be my doing.”

I jumped, nearly spilling the eyes all over before twisting on the cap and tucking them away in a seal. I turned around in a flash, my eyes widening at the sight that met them; Zetsu (both halves) had somehow snuck up on me. “How the hell did he sneak up on me!? How the hell did he sneak up on you!?”

“I'm not… wait… hmhmhmhmhahahahaHAHAHAHA! He's a being of pure darkness! Give me a moment, honey.”

I raised an eyebrow at being called “honey", only to be knocked from my thoughts when a deep, booming voice nearly slammed me to my knees from the shear force of their presence; though I adapted quickly. “KNEEL, BEING OF DARKNESS, KNEEL BEFORE YOUR GOD.”

A look of uncomprehending horror spread across Zetsu’s pseudo-face as he sank to his knees, straining for a moment before crumbling onto all fours. His body shook and trembled, his white half seeming to sag and melt like the wax it resembled while his black half boiled from within. The two halves screamed together, “How!? How are you doing this!?”

I smirked, “I have no idea.” I had a pretty good guess, but I wasn’t certain.

Zetsu collapsed fully to the ground, writhing in seeming agony as his white half fully melted away. Watching a puddle of black goo flail about and scream is immensely amusing, at least for a short while; luckily Jashin spoke up again before I could grow bored and decide to poke him with my scythe. “WHY DO YOU STRUGGLE, CHILD? SUBMIT TO YOUR GOD AND YOUR PAIN WILL END. INFINITE PLEASURE AWAITS THE LOYAL, THE DEVOUT.”

Huh, that’s the most godly Jashin has ever sounded. I raised an eyebrow as Zetsu’s writhing intensified. I managed to make out some words amongst his incoherent screams, “NOOOOOhohoho! I-I’ll never… betray… mother!”

My smirk grew as Jashin continued her obvious torture, “I AM YOUR MOTHER, CHILD. YOU CANNOT RESIST ME. WHY WOULD YOU FIGHT AGAINST YOUR MOTHER? ARE YOU NOT A GOOD SON? YOU DISAPPOINT ME, CHILD; REDEEM YOURSELF WITH ETERNAL SERVICE.”

His twitching and writhing slowed, his screams quieting; apparently, whatever Jashin was doing was cracking his mind enough for her to start slipping in. “M-mommy?” he whimpered.

“YES, MY CHILD?”

“Are… is that really you? Are you really there, after all this time?” Huh, he sounded so much like a lost child I almost felt sympathetic. Almost.

“INDEED.” I had trouble keeping form snickering as Zetsu stilled, clearly buying into Jashin’s bullshit. “RISE, MY SON. RISE OUT OF THE PUDDLE YOU’VE BECOME AND KNEEL BEFORE YOUR FATHER.”

Slowly, Zetsu’s melted form began to rise, taking on a humanoid form seemingly made of nothing but shadows (more so than usual anyway); leaving his likely dead white half to rot on the ground. His pure yellow eyes stared at me for a long moment in silence before he spoke up, “So I presume your this “Father”, Mother speaks of.”

I nodded, smirk still firmly in place. “E-yup.”

He slowly dropped to one knee, his head bowed, “What is your will, Wer of Darkness.”

I ran my tongue along my near glowing grin, the bone spike clicking against each shark-like tooth. Laughter shook my frame as I leaned back, “Oh, this is simply delightful.” I pointed at the kneeling “man”, “This looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

______________________________________________________________________

A clone of Minato groaned as it leafed through dozens of stacks of paperwork (the real Minato was still busy celebrating the end of the war with his wife, booze, and a now thoroughly ruined bed). His bored eyes lazily drifted over each sheaf of paper, barely paying attention beyond the bare minimum required to understand what was before his face and to search out anything someone could use to screw him over (a surprisingly common thing considering he executed those uppity civilians that kept whining about their lack of power. The thought still made him laugh; civilians with power? Hilarious.).In his idle reading he almost missed it; almost.

The only sign that he was paying this seemingly innocuous report any more attention than any of the others was a slight brightening of his eyes. The report was a standard thing, detailing the goings on in and around the Land of Fire; specifically, it was a report on the recent rash of disappearances ranging from individual travellers to whole towns all simply vanishing overnight. Often the towns would be reduced to ash, but not often enough to use as an indicator that such occurrences were related. The only thing connecting the “Vanishings” as some had begun to call them was that a single family from each village would be found brutally murdered inside a strange symbol painted in blood. The heinous nature of the murders were enough that some of his newer ANBU would be reduced to retching messes. The bodies clearly showed extended torture; violent rape, creative burning, signs of cannibalism, extreme mutilation, etcetera.

None of his investigators could figure out what the symbol meant; while they had eventually come to the conclusion it was some sort of religious iconography, but no expert on the subject could tell him from what religion it came from.

Stranger, and by far worse, than the mysterious origins of the symbol was its effects. People who lingered around it, stared at it, or spent any amount of time doing something involving it had a tendency to go stark raving mad.

They discovered that little tidbit when a group of researchers sent to study it went dark out of nowhere. The response team sent to investigate the investigators failure to report discovered that the head researcher had eaten the others, gouged out his eyes, stuck severed penises in his sockets, and was in the middle of fucking his assistance decollated head through the throat when they showed up. The team promptly (and, in Minato’s humble opinion, rightly) cleansed the area with fire for ten miles around.

Minato had the team killed and burned just to be sure. Ever since being caught outside during the “Black Sun Event” as most were calling it, he had been quicker to jump to more drastic actions, killed with far less instigation, and felt very little remorse; not that he noticed. Jashin may not be the most subtle of Gods, but she was far from incompetent enough for her tampering to be so easily noticed by her victims.

Even with his recent decrease in positive emotions, he was till more than capable of feeling fury at someone daring to kill (and force him to kill) Konoha Shinobi. As such, he had taken a personal interest in the search for whatever or whoever was behind these atrocities.

Turning the incandescent rage into motivation to find, torture, and publicly execute the bastard that had the gall to make him sully his manicured hands with his people's blood, and kill civilians or whatever, was easy. Even giving this case special attention, he had gotten few results; until now. Apparently, someone had been spotted within the land of fire brazenly wearing the symbol on his chest.

A grin way to sadistic to belong to Minato Namikaze spread across the young Hokage's face. “The hunt is on…”