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[Obtained Mastered Teleportation Jutsu!]
Name: Kisame Hoshigaki
Age: 4
Race: Human
Skills: Teleportation Jutsu
Kisame Hoshigaki became a known name throughout Kiri in only a single month. By the first week, he was hailed as a prodigy. During the second week, he was given personal lessons by the instructor. For the third week, the academy instructor no longer had anything left to teach the little monster. At the end of the month, Kisame Hoshigaki killed his first human.
“Hey, you're that blue-skinned little freak everyone's calling a genius or whatever right?” Jiro, a jonin, called out to Kisame.
Kisame glanced at the adult with a frown. Why'd he have to bring up how he looked? “What do you want?” Kisame unhappily asked. This guy was blocking his way to the academy. He looked at Kisame with a nasty glare.
“I heard you broke my niece's leg during a spar. I want you to apologize and get your parents to pay for her medical expenses.” Jiro looked down at Kisame.
“Heh.” Kisame scoffed. “And what are you going to do if I say no? Beat me up?” He grinned, shark-like teeth on full display.
It appears the shinobi was fully prepared to do exactly just that as he rushed toward Kisame with the intent on punching him with a downward punch. Kisame didn't move an inch as the man’s fist landed on his cheek. The young academy student wasn't even pushed back from the force of the punch.
“I guess it's my turn now, right?” Kisame asked.
The jonin barely had time to listen to his senses warning him to dodge. He leaped backward with sharp pain running across his chest. Momentarily looking down, he saw that there was a red line running across his bare chest and his flak jacket was hanging below his waist. Jiro didn't realize when the brat swung his sword, how he swung it so fast, and that he was only moments away from ascending into the afterlife if he didn't dodge that! The freak didn't even give him enough time to properly process all that information. As soon as he looked down at his wound the brat was already falling down toward him with a large water sword! Jiro cursed as he raised his sword in defense. It barely took a second for him to immediately start reinforcing his weapon with chakra when he felt the unbelievable weight of the boy’s superhuman strength. Unfortunately, that was too late of a realization.
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On first contact, Kisame already chipped the body of Jiro’s sword. As they continued to push against one another, Jiro’s blade was the first to give despite Kisame not having any ground to aid him in this physical struggle. Jiro made the swift decision to abandon his weapon and gain further distance. His hands moved before his mind as he began weaving through hand signs. Instinctively understanding that he can't underestimate this brat any longer or he'll be the one to suffer. “Water Style: Water Bomb Jut-” Jiro’s words were stopped abruptly.
After Kisame cut through the man’s sword, he flipped through the air, landed on the ground, and shot toward Jiro without missing a beat. Just as the jonin finished the proper hand signs for the jutsu, Kisame slashed through his chest. The upper half of his body fell forward as blood from both halves spilled on the ground. “That was fun,” he remarked casually, as if he had just finished a pleasant workout. Without another glance at the corpse, Kisame continued on his way to the academy.
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Despite the jonin’s attempt to discreetly meet the young Kisame Hoshigaki and teach him a lesson, Kisame was already marked as a valuable asset for the Hidden Mist Village. Naturally there were shinobi watching over him for his safety. They too witnessed the effortless dispatch of a jonin at the hands of a child only four years old. The young child didn't even need to resort to ninjutsu. They had to report this to the Mizukage immediately. An asset like this couldn't be wasting away in the academy when he could be used for the betterment of the village. The two shinobi vanished from their hiding position unaware that the young child they were watching turned in their direction just as they vanished. A smirk on his face as he holstered his great sword made out of water before continuing about his day.
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Kisame continued walking, his footsteps echoing softly on the damp cobblestones of Kirigakure. The village, as always, was shrouded in a thick, oppressive mist that seemed to seep into every corner, clinging to the skin like a second layer. The streets were eerily quiet, the fog swallowing up sound and leaving only the faintest whispers of life. The buildings, dark and weathered, loomed like silent sentinels, their edges blurred by the ever-present haze. Kirigakure was a village that thrived on tension and danger. Every corner, every shadow, could hide a threat. The mist was both a shield and a weapon, masking the movements of shinobi and ensuring that no one ever felt truly safe. It was a place where the strong survived, and the weak were quickly forgotten.
As Kisame walked, he noticed how the few villagers who were out hurriedly averted their gazes when they saw him. Some of them whispered to each other, their voices low and fearful, while others simply turned away, their faces pale and tense. He could feel their fear, their unease, and it bothered him slightly. Despite this unearthly power that was granted to him, Kisame never abused it by hurting innocent people. Only other students during spars and his father when training at home. The battle with Jiro played through his mind as he walked, each moment crystal clear in his memory. How easy it had been. How utterly effortless. Jiro had been a jonin—a seasoned, experienced shinobi, someone who should have posed a challenge. And yet, Kisame had cut him down like he was nothing more than a practice dummy.
He thought he could teach him a lesson, Kisame mused, his shark-like grin widening. But all he did was prove how weak he was. He wondered if most jonin were as weak as that. If they were, he had nothing to fear but jonin on the level of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist or hokages, right?! A sense of invincibility began to settle over him, wrapping around his mind like a comforting cloak. If a jonin could fall so easily, then what hope did anyone else have? The gap between him and those around him wasn’t just large—it was insurmountable. He was stronger than them, faster, more ruthless. And with the new abilities he was acquiring day by day, that gap would only continue to grow.
He glanced up at the mist that hung over the village like a suffocating blanket. Kirigakure was his home, but it felt smaller now, more confining. His ambitions were growing faster than the village could contain. He needed more—more power, more challenges, more ways to prove his strength. The village was a starting point, a place to hone his abilities, but he knew deep down that he couldn't stay like this forever. His destiny lay beyond the fog-covered streets of Kirigakure.