Rainfall

I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I stared into the mirror, watching my eyes swirl. I had payed Rinri with three towns worth of slaves in exchange for swapping my eyes with Madara’s. Of course, I didn't tell him where I got them, nor that they even were Sharingan; Jashin painting them black and purple made the similarities far less obvious.

He warned me I may not be able to turn them on and off but Jashin assured me I would have no problem. I wasn't worried, even if I couldn't turn them off it would be well worth it.

After having a chat with Zetsu, I set him off to ensure the Akatsuki actually formed with the list of S-rankers that must be in it. Hopefully he wouldn't have any troubles.

I called over my shoulder, “You do damn good work, doc.” My purple Sharingan swirled languidly, occasionally spiking in speed as I practised controlling it. I have no idea what the speed the tomoe spin at actually means or does, but I figure there has to be some purpose to it.

I heard a scoff behind me, “Of course I do, brat; you think this was my first eye transplant?” Indeed, while I hadn't noticed at first, my new eyes could see the the mismatched skin tone occasionally revealed when his covering clothes slip just a touch. It wasn't any great leap to realise the old man may well be much, much older than I thought.

Of course, I could hardly care if he is Frankensteining himself together to stay alive; I'm hardly one to judge, nor do I need another, decidedly inferior, method of immortality. What he uses his slaves for is his business.

My grin grew as my eyes swirled faster and faster until they morphed into a that beautiful Mangekyou. I haven't had time to figure out what they can do (nor do I want to accidentally destroy Rinri’s shop in case it's destructive), but I can immediately tell they speed up my perception even more than the normal version.

There was just one slight, tiny, minute, incy wincy little problem… I can't activate the Rinnegan. Now, being the calm, rational man I am; the incandescent rage that flowed through my every, burning cell didn't drive me to render my only allies down to red stains and miles of ashes.

Honestly, rage was more of an afterthought; horror and confusion were prime on the list. It took a few seconds to sink in that I couldn’t push my eyes as far as I should be able to and when it did, two thoughts dominated my mind: number one; did I kill him too early, before he unlocked them? Of course, I quickly realised that wasn’t likely; not only was Obito active (evidenced by Madara mentioning him) but this was just after the third war and Nagato had the Rinnegan during the second… Nagato. Thus I was led to the thought that consumed the others and dominated my mind for a moment: number two; where is Nagato?

I need those damn eyes; not just because of the power they contain (though that is a rather large motivation) but to assuage the insult of having my eyes be incomplete; no one else can have a piece of my power without my permission. And it is my power; I stole it fair and square! Ehem, I mean won it in honorable combat, of course.

Now, I knew, generally where Nagato was; he's in Ame. Now, where in Ame is a whole ‘nother question; one that I have no answer to. Given I own Zetsu, asking him seems a grand idea… if I had any clue where he had fucked off to in search of the future Akatsuki members. I hadn't even bothered asking after his capabilities, not having realised that he barely did anything in canon to show what he could really do; a rather stupid mistake in hindsight. I was just too eager to get my new eyes in and start up the Akatsuki.

“He is mine, nowhere is behind my reach... He's on his way.”

I raised an eyebrow; how convenient. Slightly terrifying, but also convenient. I still had no idea how far away Zetsu was, but I wasn't willing to just sit idle. Barely twenty second passed with me idly trying to figure out what Madara’s eyes powers where before I saw a pair of bright yellow eyes open up on a shadow on a wall. The shadow rapidly darkened, turning from mere discoloration to a depthless void from which a humanoid stepped out, seemingly formed of the same empty, existential horror from which they came.

As the shadowed wall slowly returned to normal, the figure, who I assumed was Zetsu, fell to one knee with his head bowed. “What is your will, my Lord?”

I blinked, shaking off the surprise of not only Zetsu’s radical change but also his new method of travel. Why can't I travel through shadows like that? I don't really need to considering I can teleport, but it's the principal of the thing; I'm the champion of the God of Darkness, but this pleb has more control over said element? The fuck?

“Worry not, my love; the shadows will open to you soon.” Well, that sounds vaguely sexual.

I watched Zetsu standing still as an obsidian statue for a moment before speaking, “I cannot activate the Rinnegan. I presume Madara somehow gave it to Nagato.” I spoke imperiously, dropping my typical informality; apparently speaking to a subordinate literally genuflecting before me and calling me Lord brought out the aristocrat in me.

His face remained unchanged, whether this is due to a lack of any particular emotion or because he’s incapable of making expressions, I don’t know. “Nagato?” He cupped his chin in an obviously theatrical gesture, “Yes, Madara managed to use a ritual he stole from some clan he wiped out during the Warring Clans Era to remove his Rinnegan from the rest of his eyes and implant them in some little brat.”

I frowned, “I figured as much. What I need to know is where Nagato is.”

He didn't blink, “Oh, well he's in Ame.”

I twitched. My jaw clenched hard enough to reduce iron to powder as I ground out a response, “I'm aware of that. What I need to know is where in Ame he is.”

Somehow his his unmoving maniacal “smile" gave off the impression of a smirk, “He doesn't really have a set location; his little band of war protesters just kinda move from place to place preaching nonsense about peace.”

I grinned widely, my shark teeth shining in the light from Zetsu’s eyes, “Well, he's about to get a first hand look at the business end of a massacre; I'mma slaughter his punk ass gang ah losers, burn their bodies, piss on the ashes, and build a mercenary-cum-terrorist group under the same name.” How's that for a fuck you to pacifism, eh Jashin? I want to encourage war as much as possible; more war means more opportunities for me to get away with mass murder.

“Hmhmhm, every death you cause is a soul stolen from their rightful owner; whether you do it by hand or by proxy matters little.”

I couldn't hide my widening eyes… and grin. “Well, that just gives me all the more reason to start up world war four, eh? Let's drown this world in blood.”

To my (currently only) subordinate I said, “Find him as soon as possible and report back to me immediately once you do.”

The third son of Kaguya nodded, and sunk into my shadow with a affirmative “Yes, my Lord.” and disappeared.

Three (agonizingly boring) days later Zetsu came and told me Nagato had taken over Ame in a bloody coup. Hanzo had fled and every one of his supporters in Ame were dead. The fact that Zetsu’s information could be so off disturbed me but didn’t surprise me. Apparently Obito had made his move on the original Akatsuki while I was killing Madara.

Well then, no point dicking around here doing nothing (except trying to figure out what the fuck my Mangekyou abilities are), might as well head for Ame. I swaggered through the shop, nodding to the clone manning the counter, “Ey, Doc; I’m heading to Ame. I heard the place is rich with vulnerable, wartorn people, so I thought I might as well break off a piece for myself. I’ll bring ya back some materials, a’ight?”

The clone barely acknowledged me, just waving an idle hand and muttering, “Sure, brat.”

I smirked, vanishing from the store and reappearing in the sky over Ame. Icy rain chilled me to the core as I plummeted through the air, parting clouds and disturbing birds as I hurtled towards the earth far below. While my teleportation could go to places I had never actually been, doing so is rather difficult as I could very well teleport straight into a wall or under ground or inside someone or so on; it was far easier to teleport into the air above the general area.

The wind buffeted me, causing even my powerful eyes to water and feathers to tear away from my jacket and dissolve into black smoke as they regenerated; making me appear like some oddly coloured comet. If the cloud cover wasn’t so solid and all consuming I’m sure I would have been spotted long before I hit the ground.

Using my jacket and what wind manipulation I could manage, I steered myself towards the Kage tower. I slammed into the roof and plowed through several floors, leaving dissolving body parts, blood (only fluids don’t seem to dissolve when removed from me), and scraps of colourful cloth. By the time I came to a stop (almost a third of the way through the building), I was little more than vaguely humanoid a lump of flesh on the ground.

Now, some might question how such catastrophic damage is considered “better” than teleporting into a wall. The answer is quite simple; I can heal from this, a wall suddenly becoming part of my chest means I have to take a new body as the old one is just completely fucked. For some reason my body refuses to heal when molecularly fused with something else; apparently not considering it a real “wound”.

I sighed from the middle of the wreckage, ignoring the debris falling on me as I flicked my wrist and seemingly conjured a forest green cigarette with a black filter separated by a royal purple line from within my sleeve. A spike of fire chakra had the end light up with a blue glow before I took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of sparkly pink smoke. A fly buzzing about attempted to move through the smoke, only to instantly fall from the air and melt into a sizzling puddle of molten flesh.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The smoke did nothing for me as my body entirely no sold any kind of poison (though, the sensation of it moving through my chest cavity was somewhat pleasant); instead I used it as a decoration and training tool, though I had some ideas for weaponization. Given I have no lungs, the act of breathing in and out the highly acidic and toxic smoke was done entirely by wind manipulation.

I flicked the cig away as I gripped the side of the wall next to me, fingers digging into the stone walls as I pulled myself up. The flicked cancer stick exploded into a three foot around ball of azure flames. The blue ball slammed into an unfortunate bureaucrat, the flames splattering over him like a viscous liquid and consuming him entirely in seconds; leaving only drifting pink smoke and somewhat liquified purple ashes behind.

The blue flame was incredibly hot and had to be restrained from igniting and exploding into a napalm like substance; requiring me to use fire manipulation to keep it from blowing my head off. My skill with both elements is rather… subpar, so I can rarely keep one around for more than a few seconds. Both its explosive nature and toxic byproduct had potential as weapons if I could figure out how to link them into jutsu I don’t currently have.

Also, it just fucking looked cool; and that’s a good enough reason in and of itself.

I had designed them myself and Jashin had figured out how to modify a storage seal to produce infinite amounts of them (a much longer process then just improving them, given the odd nature of Jashin’s mind that makes her so selectively good at seals: even then it was less modification and more a deliberate and refined fuck up causing the storage seal to produce a copy of the stored item rather than unseal it).

I stretched my exposed muscles as my skin grew to cover it, twisting my limbs back into the proper direction as what mangled bits of them remained rapidly reformed.

As the last feathers on my coat formed in, a familiar face descended from the hole I carved in the place. Yahiko’s corpse, Rinnegan in his eyes, scowled down at me. Honestly, I'm a touch surprised Nagato survived my descent.

I opened my mouth to say something witty and biting, only to freeze as my left eye swirled faster than it ever had. A purple film seemed to spread over the world as I saw the words I would have said be cut off by the Deva raising a hand and firing off a Shinra Tensei that blasted apart much of the tower’s remains and threw me clear out of Ame.

Why would he want me out of the city? All the Paths are inside, as is his main body (though protecting that may be the goal, he hadn't tried that with Jiraiya), so he certainly couldn't be trying for some sort of ambush on me, nor is an open field more of an advantageous battle ground than a city he knew and I didn't. Was he… was he protecting civilians? Trying to minimise collateral damage?

Well that just won't do.

My vision rewound back to the start, where instead of a Shinra Tensei to blow me away, a Black Receiver was launched clean through my head.

Reality reasserted itself as the soulless ginger’s hand lined up with my head. I laughed, “Sorry to drop in-" and that's when the spear of artificial metal rammed through my brain… causing my body to fall out from beneath me like a marionette with the strings cut.

I blinked, watching Yahiko’s corpse scoff at my body before turning away as it rapidly dissolved into smoke, leaving behind a puddle of (mostly) blood behind. The Deva path began searching around the tower, perhaps presuming I was a clone considering how my body acted.

“What the fuck just happened!?” I was too stunned to give a flying fuck what the the delusional tosser was doing; my eyes were locked on the spreading puddle of what used to be me. “How the fuck did that just happen!?”

“Your body is like a puppet piloted by your soul; he must have somehow disrupted that connection.”

I frowned, considering my partner in crime’s words as I floated upwards, seeking out a viable body to possess (while I could reform from my blood in a few minutes or from nothing in a few hours, grabbing an empty shell is just vastly more efficient). Her theory made sense, presuming my soul’s connection to my body was related to my chakra; a theory supported by the fact I kept my chakra from body to body (I'm unsure if I steal the body's chakra, though it's mostly irrelevant considering how much I have). “Okay, but why did my body dissolve so quickly?”

“That… hmm…” Jashin not knowing why something interacted with my (and by extension, her) abilities in a certain way was… uncomfortable.

“The Rinnegan are oft called the “Eyes Of God”, perhaps that isn’t just hyperbole?”

“Hmm, to my awareness there are no remaining gods of light with strength sufficient to hinder me; but it’s possible that they may be able to affect you as you are now…”

I found an empty shell but paused before entering it, turning considering eyes on Yahiko’s hovering corpse. “Does that mean I won’t be able to keep the Rinnegan? ‘Cause that would kinda sick and make this whole thing rather pointless.”

I somehow got the impression of rolled eyes and a flicked wrist as I fell backwards into my new body, “I am more than capable of corrupting some jumped up Lightbringer’s creations; these eyes will not be a problem.”

A maniacal and increasingly shark-toothed grin spread across my face as I grabbed my severed arm, slamming the severance points together and letting my regen take over reattaching it. I sprang to my feet, spinning eyes locked on Yahiko’s back.

I didn't bother rushing him, simply cocking back my arm and teleporting behind him. The shock on his face (or, at least what I could see of it from my angle) when a blood soaked fist suddenly sprouted from his chest sent peels of malicious laughter spilling from between my teeth.

Whether one of the Paths could survive having their heart suddenly replaced with someone else's arm or not was not something I cared to find out (though, I assumed not). Whilst Nagato was still reeling in shock, I twisted my wrist to face palm up, bent my elbow and grabbed his face, driving my index and ring fingers into his eyes in the process; one quick squeeze and I crushed his head like a grape.

Now, knowing what I do about the Paths, I knew that so long as one particular one was still hanging around, killing them was pretty much irrelevant. However, for the time being, this Pein is decidedly dead and I wear dead bodies like cheap suits.

I abandoned my body, possessing Yahiko before he could finish collapsing to the ground as the steady support of my arm through his chest suddenly turned to thick smoke. A wicked idea came to my mind and I prevented my soul from overwriting Yahiko’s lingering residue; allowing my regeneration to remake Yahiko’s features. Yahiko’s face twisted into a malicious expression I’m sure the man himself never wore.

Schooling my expression into a friendly half smile, I began searching for another Path. It didn't take me long to find a couple; the Asura and Human Paths walking back to back through the hall. Apparently his strongest body getting taken out from behind had him traveling in paranoid little groups.

Friendly smile firmly in place, I approached the duo. I knew as soon as Nagato saw me from the way the Human Path’s face tensed and Asura whirled around to face me.

Asura’s head cracked open, a crackling lightning gun forming. I smiled disarmingly, raising my hands in a casual surrender, “Whoa whoa whoa, hold the lightning Nagato; we're all friends here.” I had to fight to keep my smile from turning into a smirk when I saw their faces twist into a pained sneer. I placed my right hand over my chest, “Don't tell me you forgot about your old buddy Yahiko, eh? You’re breaking my heart here.”

I leapt to the side, barely dodging the giant fuck off laser aimed for my chest. A roar of, “You are not Yahiko! Vile, body snatching beast!” Welp, that didn't work.

I grinned, allowing my real jaw to stretch over Yahiko’s face as his brown eyes swirled into my purple Sharingan. I laughed, infusing my voice with a touch of Jashin’s power (the very most I could withstand without mutation) to add that demonic edge, “Ohohoho? I'm a body snatching monster? Hello pot, it's kettle; you’re a nigger. Hahahahaha!” With a flick of my wrist my scythe formed from a cloud of inky black, liquid smoke. I kept Yahiko’s features (mostly), but let my insides twist into my own; I wanted Nagato wracked with rage and sorrow. Not only would these emotions distract him and thusly make this an easier fight, but this lovely new form of torture thrilled me!

I teleported forth, scythe already swinging forth to take off the Human Path’s head. The deadliest melee Path blocked with a black receiver, his hand lancing out towards my chest whilst the Asura attempted to wrap me in wires. I almost let him, such was my surprise when my scythe, rather than dissolve into smoke on contact with the black bar that disabilized my body, cut right through it.

Lucky for me, Pein was clearly just as shocked as me; the Human Path ducking almost too slow and losing the top of his scalp. I teleported away just as the wires closed around me. I grinned at the Peins from my original position, my long tongue slithering out to lick the Human Path’s blood from my blade.

As my skin blackened I had no Idea if it would connect me to Nagato, all the Peins, or just the Human Path. I raised my scythe (putting aside the question of how something that was ostensibly part of me could resist something I couldn’t for now), gave it a twirling flourish, looked straight into Humie’s eyes, and slammed the blade into my chest.

Both Path’s flinched, though only one collapsed to the ground. I knew Nagato couldn’t feel any sensation through the Peins, so the flinch must have been something else; perhaps seeing Yahiko drive a blade through his chest struck a bit too close to home for them?

Regardless, I took advantage; teleporting forth with my left hand extendeds to grasp Asura’s face. Just as my fingers wrapped around around his skull a rocket fist blasted into my chest, blowing me away before I could finish blasting chakra into his head; instead of his head exploding he was merely rocketed into a wall head first.

Of course, slamming head first into a wall like a bullet is not so good for anyone that isn’t immortal; however, ninja’s are made of sterner stuff. So rather than his head splattering and his neck shattering, he merely broke his cranium and dislocated his neck in several places. Now, such injuries would normally be not only incredibly painful but likely fatal for most; lucky for Nagato, his Path’s don’t transmit sensation. Without debilitating agony distracting him, Pein could pull off something only the Asura path (and kinda druids) could do; turning into a robot to ignore damage to the human form.

I sprung from the wall I had been embedded in, wrenching my scythe out as the Asura Path rose with a metallic groan, turning to glare at me from the face on the left side of his head. I grinned, the bone spike on the end of my tongue clicking against my teeth as I allowed my feather coat to form on my shoulders. “My my, aren't you an ugly one? Do you have three dicks too?”

He didn't respond, simply holding out his arm and attempting to recall the fist still slightly embedded in my chest while one of the arms on his left side shifted into something that vaguely resembled a 40 millimeter autocannon.

Of course, even with a suspected big fucking gun aimed at my chest, I wasn't about to let him reclaim anything. My scythe lashed out faster than a normal eye could see (though I'm sure Pein had just as little trouble as me) and split the flying hand in two. The appendage flopped to the ground in a small puddle of blood; apparently bisection was enough structural damage that it registered as destroyed.

I teleported behind him, scythe already slicing through the air towards his back as shells slammed into the wall behind where I stood an instant before; fist sized holes annihilating the structural stability even further. My massive blade bit into his back with a metallic screech, though not as deep as it should have; apparently Nagato anticipated a teleporter using attacks from behind and managed to almost dodge. Fortunately for him, his robotic internals don’t have real blood and thus my fading ritual couldn’t be used on this body.

I grinned, my tongue shooting out between my teeth to rocket towards his rightmost eye. Said eye merely narrowed, the miserable looking face pursing it's lips and spitting a stream of clear fluid at me. As soon as the fluid touched my flesh I was struck by a wave of pleasure tainted pain as my tongue and part of my face rapidly dissolved.

Acid. That shithead not only spat in my face, but spat acid. If I had enough of my face left to have an expression, I'm sure even the blind could see the vaguely amused anger in it.

The fact that I was melting faster than I healed showed me this was one potent acid: something that only made me want the Rinnegan even more. Pein must have expected me to back off after that as he was utterly unprepared for me to lunge forward; perhaps he thought blindness or agony or self preservation or some such nonsense would deter me. Unfortunately for him, losing my eyes only brings my spirit vision to the surface (which showed me that the still active path had much less of a soul than a real live person) and pain is (part of) my God's domain!

A massive barrel pressed into my chest as my fingers closed around his right face. Two more made contact as I began to squeeze. A foot wide red laser blasted a burning hole through my chest as his head compressed, metal flesh screaming in protest. A 40mm explosive shell blew apart my intestines as his eyes popped between my fingers; molten goo scorching my flesh. A ball of scorching, radioactive green plasma evaporated my blood and burned my entire right arm to nothing as the computer that had replaced his brain began to crumble beneath my fingers. Before he could fire another volly, before his other arms could line up shots, his whole body gave a shuddering jerk and gave out just before my fist fully clenched shut.

My grin split my face in two as I laughed uproariously, ripping his crushed head from his shoulders for good measure. I dropped the crushed, three faced skull atop his chest as the holes in my torso closed up and my arm swirled together from the smoke it had become. A flick of my wrist conjured two of cigarettes into my undamaged hand, a thought lit them both, and a toss had two blue fireballs engulf the bodies, reducing them to piles of royal purple ash in seconds. A gust of wind had the ashes drifting away through the gaping holes in the crumbling walls.

I have no idea if the Outer Path can restore bodies from ash, but it's worth a shot. Shrugging at the drifting ash, I plucked my scythe from where its blades had slid easily into the ground from my vaporized grip.

I briefly watched new flesh crawl over itself to reform my arm, some of the regeneration seeming to be supplemented by the smoke my flesh dissolves into rejoining the whole and filling space. I shook my head, flexing my new hand as my bright coloured sleeves crawled over my pale skin; sometimes my own powers fill me with wonder.

A gurgling voice drew my gaze to a shattered door frame near the end of the hall; from within the dark room a figure shakily moved into the light. My eyes widened at what I saw; a badly mutilated man pierced through with dozens of small black recievers, a partial, faded Rinnegan in one eye, the other pierced through by a receiver.

The… man gurgled at me, his words barely comprehensible from his damaged throat and lungs. “You… will suffer… know… pain… for your unfor… givable crimes.”

I blinked, taking a moment to piece together his words, before placing a confident smirk on my face, “I rather doubt it.” A quick teleport had me right in front of him, hand extended to crush his head as I had the Asura before him. Just before my fingers closed around his dented skull a dozen receivers pierced through his head from the inside, almost skewering my hands if not for my powerful eyes and speed. I was forced to leap back with a hiss of surprised pain as a shockingly fast swipe of his hand left five wide gashes across my chest leaking unnaturally black smoke. His fingers each had small receivers piercing through the tips.

The sight of dozens more malformed and spiky figures shambling behind him had my eyes narrowing and my Sharingan blazing as it attempted to adapt to this new kind of threat’s unusual movements and actions. “Okay, this might be slightly harder than I anticipated.”

I lit a cigarette, popped it between my teeth, and smiled.