Monster

*Gore Warning*

As I raced through the trees, the wind whipped against my face, the mission all that mattered. The sooner I reached Konoha, the better. But just ahead, something caught my eye—a group of bandits, barely worth a glance. Normally, I'd keep moving, finish the job, and leave them to their pathetic lives. But there was something... something about one of them that made my breath hitch.

It was a headband. A simple piece of metal strapped lazily around the arm of one of the men. My gaze fixed on the symbol. The twisted cloud, sharp edges spiraling outward with a line straight through the middle. My blood turned to ice. That symbol.

In an instant, my mind yanked me back to that night. The night my world was ripped apart. I could see them, the shinobi from the Hidden Cloud Village. They moved in the shadows, silent but merciless. They didn't hesitate when they slaughtered my parents. I was helpless, a child in the midst of a storm. The screams, the blood, the death. All of it rushed back to me, clawing at the inside of my skull.

And now, years later, that same symbol stared me in the face, mocking me. It was as if the universe had placed it in my path, daring me to react. The fury that welled up inside me was instant, raw, but it didn't explode. No, it froze over, hardened into something worse. My body felt cold, and yet, a calm washed over me, too calm. My heartbeat slowed, each pulse deliberate, my mind calculating.

I stood on the branch, unmoving, eyes locked on that man. He had no idea. No idea that the headband he wore had just sealed his fate. It didn't matter whether he had been there that night. The Hidden Cloud Village had allowed men like him to exist, to thrive.

That was reason enough.

Without thinking, I flickered from the branch, my body moving on instinct, appearing silently in the midst of the group. Before any of them could even process my presence, Zabuza's massive blade was already cutting through the air. It wasn't a battle—it was an execution. The dull sound of steel tearing through flesh filled the silence. In an instant, the bodies of the bandits split in two, blood spraying from their severed forms before they crumpled to the ground.

Except for one.

The man with the Hidden Cloud headband had barely turned his head, shock and confusion spreading across his face. His reaction was slow, far too slow. I could see the terror in his eyes as he scrambled to move, but it was already over. In one swift motion, I drove the blade downward, skewering him through his groin and pinning him to the ground.

His scream ripped through the forest, a guttural, primal cry of pain and terror. His hands clutched uselessly at the massive sword embedded between his legs, blood pooling rapidly beneath him. His entire body trembled as he gasped for air, the agony clear in every broken breath. I stood over him, my face devoid of emotion, my mind ice-cold.

He looked up at me, eyes wide with shock and horror, trying to comprehend what was happening. I could see him struggling, trying to form words, but I didn't care. His life was already forfeit.

I leaned down slightly, staring into his eyes as I spoke, my voice flat, emotionless. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know. And then, you'll die."

The panic in his eyes only deepened as I activated my bloodline, letting my eyes glow with power. It was time to dig deeper.

I locked eyes with the rogue shinobi, feeling the surge of my bloodline's power as I intensified my gaze. The bandit whimpered, his body already broken, but his mind—the part I needed—was still intact. I could feel the resistance, the desperate attempt to block me out. It was pathetic.

I pushed harder, forcefully ripping through the walls of his consciousness. His mind was weak, untrained, and my eyes easily dug into the deepest parts of his memory. The pain it caused him was immense—his mouth opened in a silent scream, bloodshot eyes widening as I sifted through every corner of his thoughts.

Images flashed through my mind like a series of disjointed memories—his missions for the Hidden Cloud, the faces of comrades, the corruption of the bandit life he had taken up after abandoning his village.

His mind was broken now, shattered beyond repair. I had what I wanted, but my work wasn't done. Slowly, I withdrew from his mind, leaving him gasping in terror and confusion, his body twitching under the weight of what he'd just experienced.

I stood over him, unsheathing a kunai from my pouch. His eyes widened in fear as he realized what was coming next. I had no more words for him—only actions. I pressed the kunai into his shoulder, slowly twisting it as his scream tore through the air, his body writhing against the sword pinning him down.

"You won't die quickly," I muttered, my voice low. "Not until I'm done."

I dragged the blade down his arm, splitting flesh from muscle, ignoring his desperate cries for mercy. The calm fury that had overtaken me was unnerving even to myself, but it felt necessary. Each cut, each twist of the blade was precise, calculated—just like their village had been when they killed my family.

"Tell me," I whispered, barely above the sound of his rasping breaths. "Was it worth it?"

There was no response. His consciousness was fading, the pain overwhelming him. 

The shinobi's gasps for air grew fainter, but his agony wasn't over yet—not by a long shot. I pressed my palm flat against his chest, focusing on the flow of his blood. I was going to make him suffer in ways he couldn't have imagined.

I concentrated, feeling the heat build beneath his skin, boiling his blood. His body began to convulse as a scream tore from his throat, raw and hoarse, the sound of pure, undiluted torment. His veins bulged unnaturally, skin turning red and blistering from the heat rising within. It was as if his insides were being set ablaze, and in a way, they were.

His arms and legs kicked violently, trying in vain to escape the inferno that now raged inside his own body. I watched his face contort in pain, and a twisted part of me was almost impressed by the sheer endurance he had left.

But there was more I could do.

I knelt beside him, bringing my hand over his face, fingers brushing against his swollen, tear-filled eyes. Slowly, deliberately, I focused on them. His blood surged into the vessels around his eyes, forcing them to swell grotesquely. The whites of his eyes turned crimson, the delicate vessels inside them popping one by one. His screams intensified, his body writhing in blind panic as the pressure inside his head built up.

With a cold detachment, I pressed harder, making the blood pool faster. His eyes ballooned grotesquely, distending beyond recognition before—pop.

His screams stopped, replaced by a grotesque gurgling sound as blood oozed from the ruined sockets where his eyes had been. He was reduced to nothing more than a twitching heap of flesh and blood, his voice barely more than a strangled rasp.

I stood over him, watching, waiting. He was almost gone now, the life slowly draining from him, but I didn't care.

I turned away from the twitching body, my mind cold and clear. The fury that had consumed me earlier now receded, replaced by a numb sense of satisfaction.

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I moved through the gates of Konoha as the familiar sight of the village came into view. My mind was still running through everything I had seen. The encounter with the bandits replayed in my head, and the rogue Cloud shinobi's memories were still fresh but I had tucked that away for now. I was back, and there was a mission to report.

The Hokage's office stood at the center of the village, a constant reminder of power and responsibility. As I approached, I could feel a faint exhaustion creeping in after the long journey and the weight of the things I had seen. But I pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time for weakness.

I reached the Hokage's door and knocked twice. A calm, aged voice called for me to enter.

Stepping inside, I found Hiruzen Sarutobi behind his desk, looking up from some paperwork. His eyes, sharp despite his age, immediately locked onto me, assessing. He gestured for me to come forward without a word, as if he knew I had something important to share.

Without hesitation, I pulled the sealed scroll from my wrist's storage seal and handed it over. "This contains the information I gathered from Zabuza's mind, Lord Hokage."

He took the scroll, his gaze hardening slightly as he examined the seal. "You were able to extract information from him, I take it?"

I nodded. "Yes. I probed deeper than usual, but I managed to gather everything I could before neutralizing him." I kept my words precise, detached. The details of how I had ended Zabuza weren't relevant now.

Hiruzen studied the scroll for a moment before glancing back at me. "Well done. This mission was beyond what I usually assign for a first, yet you handled it well."

There was a pause as he unfurled the scroll and scanned the contents, his expression betraying little. I stood still, waiting, my mind already preparing for whatever came next.

After a long silence, Hiruzen finally spoke, his voice even. "I expected nothing less from you, Chihara. This information... could prove useful. You've done the village a great service." He rolled the scroll back up, setting it aside with the same quiet authority that characterized everything he did.

"There's more," I added, my tone neutral but focused. "I encountered a rogue shinobi from the Hidden Cloud on the way back," I paused for a second before I continued, "I interrogated him and retrieved some intelligence before executing him. I can provide a detailed report if needed."

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Hidden Cloud. "I see," he said after a pause. "Bring me the details when you're ready. I will also have this report reviewed immediately. You've earned a moment's rest, Chihara. We will speak again soon."

Before leaving I had something to ask of the Hokage.

"Lord Hokage," I began, shifting slightly so the massive blade strapped to my back was more visible. Zabuza's blade. "This sword… I took it from Zabuza after I killed him. But I can tell there's more to it than just its size. What exactly is this blade?"

Hiruzen's eyes moved to the sword on my back, and a knowing look crossed his face. "Ah, that blade. Zabuza's sword… the Kubikiribōchō."

The name lingered in the air as he continued. "It's one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist's famed weapons. Known as the 'Executioner's Blade,' it has a unique property. The sword has the ability to regenerate itself by absorbing iron from the blood of its victims. That's why it doesn't dull or break easily—every time it cuts flesh, it makes itself whole again."

I glanced over my shoulder at the massive blade, understanding dawning on me. The way it had felt in battle, the strange weight that seemed to shift with every swing—it wasn't just a weapon. It was almost alive, feeding on the blood of its enemies.

"This blade… it feels right for me," I said, my voice calm but with an edge. "Its nature complements my abilities. May I keep it?"

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see the hesitation in his expression. He rested his hands on his desk, thinking. "Chihara, the Kubikiribōchō is a valuable weapon. It belongs to the Hidden Mist, and there may come a time when we'll need to return it." His voice was firm, but I could sense the conflict in his tone. "However, for now… I'll allow you to use it."

I gave a small nod, bowing slightly in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lord Hokage."