Upside Down

A strange calm settled over Arthur. The fight had been worthwhile, gauging what he could and couldn't do with the reanimation technique.

And he had achieved his objective. The threat of Zabuza and Haku was neutralized, further preventing them from altering what was left of the narrative.

He knelt beside Zabuza's body, drawing a small vial from his pouch and a scalpel from his holster. He carefully extracted a piece of flesh from Zabuza's arm, storing it in the vial before sealing it with a corkscrew.

With the DNA of an individual, who knew what possibilities it might unlock? He could potentially create a more powerful, expendable army of the undead, one that would serve him well.

This collection of flesh, this sample of Zabuza's very essence, could be a crucial ingredient in furthering that thought.

After securing the vial in a scroll, Arthur hoisted the bodies of Zabuza and Haku onto his shoulders, along with everything else. He then shuffled away from the scene, seeking a secluded clearing where he could recover.

His reserves were depleted, leaving him in a vulnerable state. He needed time for his chakra to replenish, even a meager amount, before attempting the risky procedure he had planned.

He found a clearing under some foliage, the snow blanketing the ground undisturbed.

Settling into a cross-legged position, he closed his eyes and focused. Although his chakra stores were low, his Tamashii still allowed him to extend his senses for miles.

The only movement he detected was the rustle of small forest creatures, far from posing any threat.

Half an hour later.

While he may have defeated Zabuza and Haku, there was an alternative reward to this all—Haku's blood!

Arthur opened his eyes, ready for the risky part. Performing surgery while out in the open wasn't ideal. But with his limited options, it was the only course of action.

He relaxed himself, knowing that this wouldn't be a quick operation. He needed to be precise, as at those other times.

Only now, he had his Tamashii to help.

Reaching into his pouch, he withdrew his medical supplies. The sight brought back memories of Ranmaru; the boy's demise, having helped him make it this far.

The procedure was complex, demanding his full attention.

Compared to Ranmaru's case, transferring Haku's cells would be easier. He had grown considerably as a surgeon, and his Tamashii provided him with an unparalleled level of sight over both the chakra and the intricate workings of the body.

He began by preparing Haku's corpse. Arthur made a precise incision, extracting a small sample of tissue containing Haku's blood.

Then came the complicated part. Using his Chakra Dissection Blade technique, he carefully created a similar incision on his arm.

It was much better using this technique compared to a regular scalpel. Because of it, he was able to make the cut with pinpoint precision, minimizing damage to surrounding tissues.

Next came the crucial step—integration.

With the Body Activation technique to stimulate the target area within his own body, he prepared it to receive the foreign cells. Following that, he employed the Cell Activation technique to encourage the acceptance of transplanted cells.

He channeled his chakra to help with the natural functions in his body.

Time seemed not to exist; each moment was filled with intense concentration.

The process was slow and methodical, allowing his Tamashii to constantly monitor his own body for any signs of rejection.

Finally, after hours, Arthur lowered his hands. His face was filled with cold sweat. The procedure was a lot less painful than the first two times he'd done it.

Closing his eyes, he felt a subtle shift—the unmistakable presence of a foreign chakra. This was it. He had successfully integrated the ice style bloodline trait!

The ability to manipulate ice now flowed in his veins alongside his other Kekkei Genkai. It didn't seem any different, like adding the right piece in Tetris.

Arthur carefully cleaned the wounds, closing them whole. He would need to rest for several more hours, but his objective was achieved.

With contentment, he leaned back against a tree, allowing himself to finally relax. His eyes drifted closed, and for the first time since he left the Leaf Village, he allowed himself to truly sleep.

Even in this world, he could dream.

He dreamed of ice and snow, of a world sculpted with beauty. The dream was vivid, so real that he felt the sting of the cold air.

When he woke, the first rays of dawn could be seen. He glanced at the bodies of Zabuza and Haku, not a single ounce of regret crossing his mind.

Arthur got up and hefted the Executioner's Blade.

The craftsmanship was undeniable. Whoever forged it had imbued the weapon with an almost eerie sense of purpose.

This brutal weapon was shaped like a butcher knife and designed for decapitation. Its blade was an impressive two hundred-fifty centimeters long.

It seemed to have a special notch for a strap to aid carrying and a detachable handle for easier transportation.

From what Arthur recalled of the weapon, it was incredibly durable and had a unique ability to regenerate itself. By absorbing iron from the blood of its victims, it could repair any damage, from nicks to a complete break.

The cold metal felt strangely organic in his hand, perfectly balanced despite its imposing size. Unlike other swords he'd wielded, this one's weight was evident—sixty-six pounds (thirty kilograms).

Zabuza, he mused, had possessed the strength to wield this thing with frightening ease.

Before Zabuza, Jūzō Biwa was its recent wielder. After Zabuza, the blade changed hands a few times before being retrieved again by his reanimated form. Even Kakashi Hatake had used the weapon for a while, channeling lightning chakra to boost its power.

Arthur, thankful for his unorthodox training regimen, could wave it around similarly. With practice, he could be able to swing it with better efficiency.

At the thought of its recent owners, Suigetsu Hōzuki came to mind. This character wouldn't be featured for another three years, as he was the next one to take ownership of the weapon.

Perhaps Suigetsu would target Arthur for it. But the chance of a character like him discovering that Arthur was the one who took it was slim.

With a relaxed sigh, he sealed the blade within a scroll, securing it for later use.

Zabuza's body was next. Arthur healed all external wounds, ensuring the fallen ninja remained recognizable. A dead body, after all, was only valuable if it could be identified.

His next destination was a bounty station.

Only one bounty station was ever shown in the Narutoverse, and that was in the Fire Country.

Arthur was unaware of the location of Water Country's bounty station. However, he had an idea of where to look.

Bounty stations were typically found in areas where ninja activity was prevalent. Remote villages, often plagued by bandit raids or rogue ninjas, usually had a dedicated station to maintain some semblance of order.

Haku's body, unfortunately, wouldn't fetch any bounty. He had no known reputation, no notoriety that could entice a bounty hunter.

As such, Arthur placed a flying raijin mark somewhere on Haku's body. Upon doing so, he dug a grave and buried the young boy.

Later, when he was able, he would return and use the corpse for a different purpose. For now, the earth became Haku's temporary tomb.

'Transformation jutsu.'

A puff of cloud formed around Arthur, initiating the technique. His body shifted to that of a tall, burly man. A thick beard sprouted on his new face, further masking his identity.

If there was one thing he never did, it was to use the same transformation twice without consideration.

Zabuza's head, wrapped in a sturdy cloth to conceal his features, was then strapped onto Arthur's back.

The path ahead of him would lead to the distant mountains on the horizon. His goal: the nearest remote town.

He hoped to gather information there. He wasn't picky. Anyone willing to take a well-preserved, wanted mercenary off his hands would do.

An hour passed.

As he rounded a bend in the path, Arthur heard gruff voices. He stopped, his Tamashii instantly alerting him to the presence of several figures ahead.

Squinting through the trees, he spotted a group of what looked to be four mercenaries. They were clad in mismatched armour, a ragtag bunch whose demeanour seemed at odds with their slightly comical appearance.

With a stoic expression, Arthur casually walked in their direction. The mercenaries halted their trek once they noticed he was standing in their way.

They eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and hostility. He knew what their chakra levels were—a crew of average skill at best.

"Hold," he said in a calm yet firm voice.

The lead mercenary, a hulking man with a scarred face, bristled. He growled, asking, "What business do you have interrupting us, stranger?"

"Information," Arthur replied simply. "I'm looking for the bounty station in this country."

The mercenaries all looked at one another, narrowing their eyes.

"Bounty station, huh?" their leader repeated. "What do you know about bounty hunting?"

Arthur remained silent, his posture conveying a quiet confidence. He didn't need to boast or reveal his true purpose. The situation called for a different approach.

In a low tone, he finally said, "It would be best that you just answer if you know... I'm only a man with a simple question, is all."

The mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances. Arthur wasn't dressed like a typical ninja, but his calmness, his way of carrying himself hinted at a hidden strength.

The tension rose.

"That isn't exactly common knowledge," their leader said in a gruff yet oddly hesitating tone. "What makes you think we'd share it for free?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. In a dangerous tone, he threatened them, saying, "Choose your next words carefully."

The mercenaries, despite their bravado, paled slightly under his scrutiny. It was then that Arthur could tell that they weren't backing down entirely; they were subtly preparing for a fight.

A foolish decision, he mused.

Suddenly, one of the mercenaries, a lanky youth with a nervous twitch in his eye, patted his leader on the shoulder.

"Stand down," their scarred leader barked.

The other two froze, their hands hovering over their bags. When they looked at their leader, they noticed his eyes were fixed not on Arthur but on the figure strapped to Arthur's back.

The cloth draped over Zabuza's face did little to conceal his garments.

"Those clothes," he trailed off, leaning closer to peer at the obscured form of Zabuza. Arthur remained impassive, letting the tension brew.

"Those clothes," the leader repeated, his voice hoarse. "I'd recognize them anywhere. That's Zabuza Momochi, one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist!"

The revelation hit the other mercenaries like a physical blow. Shock and terror replaced their initial hostility.

Zabuza was a legend—a notorious rogue ninja whose name was well-known across these lands. Knowing this seemingly innocent stranger had taken down Zabuza himself was not something to overlook.

Shamefaced, the leader bowed his head slightly and stammered, "Forgive our misunderstanding, sir… We had no idea… We wouldn't dream of attacking someone who could handle… that."

He gestured vaguely towards Zabuza's strapped form. Arthur neither acknowledged his apology nor took pleasure in their fear. His only concern was completing his task.

"I'll ask only once," he said. "Where is the closest bounty station?"

The leader swallowed, still shaken. He pointed vaguely to the southwest, answering, "There's a small town about two days' journey that way. They have a bounty station close to a guard post."

Arthur used his Tamashii to scan their chakras for any signs of lies. Their leader was telling the truth, so he spared them no further conversation, simply turning and walking away with a deliberate stride.

As he disappeared down the path, the mercenaries watched him go in heavy silence.

"Who was that guy?" one of them finally dared to ask.

The leader remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the direction Arthur had vanished.

"I don't know," he finally muttered. "But I have a feeling—a very bad feeling—that this whole country's 'bout to be turned upside down."