[x] A giant crab, which specializes in defense and close-quarters combat utilizing earth-chakra, and complains constantly about taking hits for you.
"Well?" The slate-grey crustacean you summoned is slightly taller than you at its highest and is as wide as a horse-and-wagon is long, which makes it significantly less massive than the Conch King and significantly more massive than you. Which definitely makes the distasteful way it glares at you over its carapace more intimidating. Unfortunately, you're used to it.
"Ishikani, will you please stop the mollusc from escaping?" you ask as politely as you are able. You really do need his help for this.
"Perhaps if you stopped escaping from your responsibilities-" comes the caustic, predictable response and your temper snaps.
"Shio," you say dully, "if I die here, burn the fucking contract." Your legs have recovered enough for a quick body-flicker, which takes you most of the way up the Conch King's shell and out of earshot of whatever Ishikani wants to say to you in response. You don't think Shioriko would actually burn the crab contract. She might bury it in a safe. Ishikani respects her more than you, though. He should help you out when she demands it.
Hopefully before you get killed. You reach the top of the sazae-oni and immediately strike at Kandachi, forcing him to pick up his own sword and abort what you assume was the jumping technique. He blocks your first few blows and then nearly catches you with a clever parry. You retreat, and the two of you stare at each other. The shell of the Conch King is a strange material to stand on - the best comparison would be a fine tile roof. Smooth and hard and slippery. The geometry's all wrong though. You push more chakra to your feet, ready for a long defensive fight. You only need to be threatening enough that he doesn't use any jutsu - otherwise your focus is to drag this out.
And then he opens his mouth again. "Pretty embarrassing, for your summon to not listen to you," he says. His eyes narrow in accusation. "You having the old Kanimoto contract isn't on file."
As far as accusations of disloyalty go, hiding one's strength barely qualifies. Nearly everyone does it by the time they reach jonin - they tell you as much every time you hunt missing-nin. You still flinch at being so obviously caught out. "It's not mine," you say, "I'm just holding on to it for a real successor."
"For over ten years?"
You frown underneath your rebreather. Keeping him talking is good for wasting time without directly risking your life, but you'd rather not keep touching on old wounds-
The chakra beneath your feet flexes ever so slightly and you fling yourself to the side as a calcified spike shoots out and impales the space where you were standing. That's… not supposed to be possible, you think, fingers scrabbling on the cold smoothness of a giant mollusc shell. One of the things that kept Kandachi from S-Rank was that the Conch King didn't act on its own and could be neutralized by engaging him. Either that's wrong, or Kandachi can do the jutsu to command it without you noticing. Both answers make delaying him even more dangerous.
Kandachi clucks his tongue in annoyance at your survival. "Damn. Woulda been nice."
"That," you wheeze, "isn't on your file." It's a petty technicality and doesn't matter, but it has to be said. Rookie mistake. You should always assume a deserter has something in reserve. Ishikani better come through - if the summon can use the escape technique on its own and take you along for the ride, this fight is over.
"It is, actually." You dodge a trio of tentacles intent on bisecting you. "Classified, of course. Guess the new boss didn't get around to reading it," he muses as you nearly lose your footing again to avoid another spike. "Or maybe she just wanted you dead." The dodging is becoming untenable when, finally, reprieve comes. The Conch King makes… a sound. You don't really have the right word for the noise made by a multi-ton mollusc in pain beyond 'awful'. Ishikani must have relented, you realize. Or, more likely, Shioriko shamed him into helping.
Kandachi's good humour evaporates. You take the opportunity to push the offensive. If the attacks are autonomous, then hopefully Ishikani can distract it enough to keep it from trying to kill you. If they aren't, then it's on you to distract the man himself. He parries your first attack.
And your second.
On your third he nearly turns the bind into a thrust right through your eye, and you realize he's definitely better than you. That's not good. Your orders are to keep him alive until backup arrives, but you've run out of other ways to delay him, and holding back now will make you dead. And then Shioriko after that. Maybe Ishikani too, you guess.
You're going to have to go for the kill. Hopefully the new boss was serious about not doing summary executions. You back off for a moment, bending over at the waist, feigning exhaustion. Out of Kandachi's view you form the seals, fingers awkward around the hilt of your sword. The genjutsu catches. Good, he's not quite on to you yet - you were worried he'd recognize your chakra. He shouldn't be consciously aware of the subtle drowning-panic you're feeding him, but his breathing is getting shallower and faster. His heart rate should be spiking. Meanwhile, lightning chakra is flowing through your blade, quietly enough that it shouldn't spark, and at a very specific frequency. Every time he blocks you, it'll push him that much closer to cardiac arrest. Efficient and clean, though rarely fast and definitely not foolproof. You're proud of it.
You straighten up and resume a proper stance. You're lucky Kandachi decided to talk instead of keeping the pressure up. You're not sure what he said. Probably nothing important.
"Will you shut up and fight?" you mutter. This time, however, Kandachi is close enough to hear you and scowl.
"If you want to die so badly," he pants, raising his sword to meet yours with a glare and a mocking grin, "who am I to deny Kohaku the Heartbreaker?"
As proud as you are of your original technique, the nickname is a bad joke you could do without. You and Kandachi both prepare yourselves for one last dance.
Which is, of course, when the backup arrives.
~
The instant you see the shimmering dome of a barrier technique you disengage, retreating from the Conch King to the edge of the tree-line and landing next to Shioriko's familiar signature. Now that you have time to look around, you can appreciate the damage the summon caused with its jumping technique. A circle of trees over forty meters across: flattened. It must've used another water-burst to slow its fall.
The beast itself is injured, though not severely. There's a few craters - Shioriko must've been tossing explosive tags. You never liked destroying your kunai, but she always gravitated towards them. More serious are the claw-marks, some of them bloody. Ishikani's ability was never the issue, you think sourly, as the crab scuttles towards the two of you. He's irritatingly undamaged, glaring balefully at you, and not leaving. Either he wants to upbraid you for daring to threaten his contract, or he realizes there's going to be a show.
And there is going to be a show. You're not the only ones watching from a distance. You stretch out your chakra sense and count, twenty, thirty, forty- you give up. Less than a hundred, but most of them are jonin. A majority of those who were in the village must've come along on this hunt. Given you can sense at least one Maekawa other than Shioriko, you guess senior representatives of the major families are here too. A significant fraction of Hidden Rain's power is here. Watching. Waiting.
Only one person steps out into the circle of fallen trees and crushed undergrowth. Everyone stares. Their clothing is a bold statement in itself. The robes are black, worn long and loose enough to conceal nearly the entire body. On the stomach and hips floats the red cloud of Amegakure's decade long insurgency. The cloud appears on the back of the robe as well, but here it's joined by four vertical lines - the symbol of Amegakure underneath the red cloud. Subtle, you think. The lightheadedness you feel might not just be adrenaline: you've killed people wearing those colours. Seeing them like this puts the lie to the bravado you showed Kandachi.
That's, somehow, not the most provocative part of the outfit. The bamboo hat and its paper tassels might have been innocent. Maybe. If it were bare of any adornment, it could just be another hat. But with the character for Rain boldly printed on the front? That calls to mind another, very infamous hat. Or rather, five of them. The exclusive symbol of the Kage since the days of Hashirama's peace.
Even Hanzo never quite went that far.
"I am offering you a chance to surrender," the person wearing those ambitious, terrifying robes calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.
Kandachi laughs. It's high and shrill. "Really? All this-" he gestures around to the deadly audience "-to demand a surrender?"
"If you'll take it." The calm, polite voice is threateningly flat, even offering mercy. Your chakra sense seems to slip off their signature. A passive stealth technique? Hanzo, for all his paranoia, was killed by surprise. It wouldn't surprise you.
"For the pleasure of seeing me kneel?" Kandachi guesses.
The figure stills. Even their robes stop fluttering for an instant. Then they slowly shake their head, lifting a pale hand to remove the damned hat. Her eyes are steady and unwavering enough to be carved of amber.
"For those whose memories I will not betray."
Kandachi is taller than her. Was Hanzo's jonin commander for years. Led battalions in the third war. He's also standing on an eighteen-meter tall mollusc. And yet the gravity of the clearing is tilted, inexorably, to the delicate woman with neat blue hair and an origami flower pinned by her temple.
You shiver. The founding members of Akatsuki were known quantities to Amegakure's hunters. Solidly jonin as far as skill went. The leader uses a large sword. Nothing special. The kunoichi has a unique technique or bloodline, while the red-haired one has exceptional chakra reserves and flexibility. More dangerous, but susceptible to pressure in hand-to-hand. They survive as a unit, through exceptional coordination. That was the profile you'd been given, and it had held true for over two years.
The assembled jonin are here to see it proven false. She killed Hanzo by stealth. As impressive as that was, it didn't prove she had the kind of strength to take the Salamander's place. She had, according to rumour, killed those members of his personal guard who'd taken issue with her walking out of his chambers holding his severed head. That would put her well above 'solidly jonin'. Enough to unify Hidden Rain?
Maybe. Seeing her standing in front of the Conch King, seemingly unthreatened, might push you to say probably. But reputations are earned in blood. If she wants one, she'll kill him here, and do it convincingly. Crushingly.
"And then what? I live out the rest of my days peacefully? That's what your group was about, right. Peace." Kandachi's mulling it over. Considering the audience. It's easy to deduce, but you also never severed the chakra connection for your second genjutsu. The roil of his mind can't tell you what he's thinking, but it can tell you he is thinking. Hard.
"So long as you cooperate."
"And swear allegiance to the new regime, right?"
Konan inclines her head. Obviously. The tableau - the jonin in the trees, the revolutionary, the old jonin commander on his prized summon - are all still and quiet as Kandachi considers his situation.
Pride and power or spite and survival. What matters more to Kandachi, you wonder. Crushing him would be convenient for her in many ways, leaving aside any vengeance she or her allies might want. If he cooperates and holds her to her word, he could live and deny her that. On the other hand, he'd have to visibly and repeatedly support her and her claim to being strongest in Rain, something Kandachi had always assumed would be his when Hanzo passed. And maybe he could win if he tried. Nobody knows what she's capable of.
"Alright," Kandachi says, "I surrender." He's smirking. You suppose spite won out.
"I am heartened to hear you say that," the new leader of Rain says smoothly, like this was the outcome she expected. The outcome she wanted. Three ninja emerge from the trees, chakra binders at the ready, as Konan turns her back on the Kandachi and the Conch King. "I have no interest in your demise, however much your former subordinates might wish for it. They will, of course, be punished should they succeed."
A number of things happen at once after that blatant, sudden provocation. Kandachi's face twists with nearly feral rage. The Conch King lashes out with spines and whips, forcing the capture team to retreat and Konan to dodge nearly a dozen high-speed spikes. And your quiescent genjutsu connection to Kandachi is severed.
Did she just-?
Kandachi clearly remembers the briefing on Akatsuki as much as you do, because he's closing fast to prevent her from using any thrown weapons techniques. His sword takes her clean through the chest, just in time for her to start dissolving into paper. When had she swapped with the clone? You think about her oddly muted chakra signature. From the start?
"A clone from the start?" Kandachi snarls, reaching the same conclusion and looking around to find the inevitable ambush. "Coward!"
The disintegrating paper mass suddenly coheres itself back into the pale, pretty face of the surviving leader of Akatsuki.
"Not a clone." Konan corrects him, burying a fist in Kandachi's gut that lifts him a foot off the ground. The sound of it echoes around the clearing.
His sword is still in her chest. She pulls it out slowly, examining it. There's no blood. She throws it away and stands there, letting Kandachi process what just happened. Letting you and the rest of the audience process it. None of it bodes well for Kandachi, but it's too late to back out.
Konan tilts her head slightly, before raising a hand. Palm up. Fingers straight, folding as one. Come at me. With a roar, Kandachi does. His wounded pride is playing right into her game, you think. How is he going to hurt her with fists if a sword didn't work? It's an exhibition for her, nothing more.
Still- "Something's off," you mutter. Shioriko looks at you, while Ishikani's focus remains locked on the fight. Why and how a crab knows and cares about human taijutsu, you don't know, but he does.
"Do you believe she's holding back?" she asks.
"I don't- maybe?"
"Fool," Ishikani interjects, still staring at the duel. "The blue one is reacting more quickly, but moves stiffly. She is likely injured."
You eye the crab skeptically. The question 'can she be injured' sits on your tongue, but you decide against it. Nobody knows, and your summon has, for once, only been mildly acidic talking to you. You won't test your luck, and you look back to the fight just in time to see Konan get Kandachi in a wrist-lock that should, by rights, be a defensive position.
Except she suddenly has another arm to punch him in the ribs with. Kandachi, obviously surprised, turns his tumble into a more controlled retreat as he takes in what new technique she's displayed. The first arm, sleeve and all, quickly turns white, and you can see it's made of paper.
Except that's the arm she spent the past two minutes fighting with. Another paper arm forms, leaving her with four - two supposedly real, and two apparently not. So she was holding back. There's whispers in the trees around you. Everyone is realizing what kind of technique this is.
Kandachi is too, and now his snarl is more like a grimace. "I get it," he says. You wonder how much his ribs hurt - one of them must be cracked from that hit, and he's cradling them. "You're like the fucking Stitcher Goblin, right? Some sort of kinjutsu that turns most of your body into paper."
"Something like that," Konan agrees. The two paper arms are losing their shape, slowly spreading out behind her in what is - for once - a technique you recognize from the briefing. Paper shuriken. Difficult to dodge, but lacking in penetrative power.
Kandachi smiles. "This'll be easy then." He steps to the side, and you realize two things. First, he never dismissed Conch King. Second, he wasn't cradling his ribs. He was making hand seals.
The barrage of spines and whips that hits Konan isn't comparable to what you dealt with when you were on top of the monster's shell. This is a formation-breaker. This is what made Kandachi famous in the war. Dozens of calcified spikes and an equal number of whips strike where she was standing, throwing up enough wood chips, slips of paper and dust that nobody can see the target area. You strain your chakra sense, but her slippery signature is impossible to pin down.
"The thing is," Kandachi says. Loud, so everyone can hear. "Hanzo studied kinjutsu like that. Some part of you has to stay human. Could be your brain, or your heart. Something has to stay - otherwise it just kills you."
So Kandachi made sure nothing could have survived. A good strategy. Certainly, you think, looking at the tiny forest of splintered seashell spikes, now unobscured, and the small sheafs of paper stuck between them, it's hard to imagine any human organ making it through that intact. You really hope she's not dead, though, because then you're dead.
Nobody in the trees moves. Bark slips under your nails as you keep your tension under control. A few more seconds and someone's going to break, declare him the winner-
"You are, of course, correct. Losing every living part is lethal," Konan says from nowhere. Kandachi whirls to stare at where she'd stood. On the nearest spike to him, a bizarre horror assembles itself. Paper lungs connecting to a paper throat, disappearing behind an unsettlingly human looking mouth. The bare minimum needed for speech, hanging off one of the Conch King's projectiles. A macabre anatomy class's paper model.
All around Kandachi, tiny slips of paper scattered by his attack begin to float, seemingly of their own volition. He's fenced in. More than that, he's terrified. The paper lungs keep expanding and contracting. Keep talking. "So I died," they say. It almost sounds cheerful. "And yet-"
The paper lungs burst. The floating slips collapse in on the former Jonin Commander. There's a sound like cards being shuffled.
And then there's a corpse, and Konan next to it. She's bleeding. It's not hers. Kandachi is seeping out from between the seams in her skin, the paper edges of her robes. She wipes her face, shakes herself, and it's gone. She's human again. Or at least she looks like it.
Once again nobody moves. "And yet," she concludes, face sombre. Nothing. She clears her throat.
Everyone enters the clearing at once. Within seconds, the assembled elite of Amegakure are kneeling. You included.
There's a faint rustle of cloth. Paper. Paper-cloth. "Retrieval team, seal the commander's body for transport and analysis. It's possible his summoning contract is biological."
Oh. The Conch King isn't there. You didn't notice. Too many thoughts in your brain, you suppose.
There's more orders after that. She tells you and Shioriko to see a medic and then report back to Ame. The real elite are to confer with her personally. Most are just ordered back to the city. It's all kind of a blur. The reality of Rain having a new ruler is sinking in. She might be kinder than the last one. She might be more dangerous. She might be both.
More than anything, you think about that moment when your genjutsu broke. Kandachi might've broken it himself. Someone else might've been playing games, too. But if it was Ame's new leader-
That kind of cold manipulation, pushing an elite jonin into a killing rage when he'd offered to surrender, just so he could be violently crushed-
It didn't sound much like the Akatsuki you'd known.
And yet.
~
Lady Konan's show of force proved she could fill Hanzo's shoes - Amegakure will not splinter yet. That doesn't mean there aren't deserters for you to track down. You don't know if you're actually assigned more retrieval missions than other hunters, but your prominent role in Kandachi's execution and your lack of allies means the two months since have given you a... reputation.
[ ] Double agent.
The Akatsuki had a number of sympathizers in the shinobi forces, but only a few acted on those sympathies prior to the coup. Those who believe you were one of those few wonder if you're not still lying to them, as you are clearly practiced in deception. On the other hand, a few respect your hypothetical principles, or at least your apparent talent at ingratiation.
[ ] Bloodthirsty.
What kind of shinobi turns on her commanding officer within days of a coup, and spends the next two months doggedly hunting down her fellows? Your reputation makes people wonder if you'd enjoy killing them as well. On the other hand, a shinobi's respect is ultimately earned by blood, and you've dealt with markedly less insubordination lately.
[ ] Coward.
You're just looking out for number one, obviously. In most circumstances, cowardice is a crime second only to treason, but in the shadow of a coup such rules are less strict. It's not a reputation that earns you any respect, and aggressive people or those of strong principles will scorn you, but to most a coward is predictable and safe.
