*WARNING* Ass-to-mouth and later on, quite a bit of gore. You have been warned.

"What a disaster. What a complete fucking disaster." Pain's rippling eyes were wide with rage and even though his presence was merely an illusion, he looked as though he might pounce on Sasori and rip out his heart.

With his abilities, who knows, Sasori thought, shifting edgily. He'd known this summons was going to happen eventually and now that he was here, things were going decidedly worse than he'd expected. With Deidara too grief stricken to be coherent and Kisame on his deathbed, all the blame was currently resting on him for the epic failure of their mission. He was certain he'd endured more verbal abuse in the past thirty minutes than in all his life put together. Honestly, he hadn't thought that Kisame destroying the suiton lab was such a big deal - it was a step up from just observing it, wasn't it? But Pain was furious. Orochimaru is going to retaliate, he'd shouted. Now we're all going to have to watch our backs even more than before!

He looked around the cave to find all the other members glaring at him - Kakuzu and Hidan's eyes were narrowed with thought, Konan had her eyebrows raised with detached interest, Zetsu's white half was slack-jawed, and Itachi seemed to be staring right through him. Yes, even Itachi was here... apparently he had 'recovered,' now that the mission was over and botched beyond repair. And while he was as emotionless as ever, Sasori couldn't help but think that there was a smug glint in his eye.

"I told you we needed a damn sensory type," the redhead muttered into the silence that had settled over the cave. "If we could have seen Orochimaru coming, none of this would have happened!" He shot Itachi the coldest glare he could possibly conjure... the Uchiha merely blinked and calmly looked away.

"It happened because all three of you screwed up," Pain growled. "When you realized Deidara had been captured, you should have just cut your losses and aborted the mission! And look at us now - not only is Deidara out of commission until his leg heals but Kisame is on his deathbed! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find shinobi worth a shit who'll join this organization?"

Sasori grinned despite himself. "Deidara and I were both forced into it," he mused. "So I don't know. I'm sure there are other outlaws wandering around who you can bully into joining." He heard a snort of laughter and looked over to find Hidan's eyes glinting.

"Kisame's not dead yet, correct?" Itachi cut in. It was the first thing the man had said during the entire meeting.

"Not yet but I think it's pretty inevitable," Sasori replied curtly. "He has a few hours at the most."

"If you already gave him the antidote, all he probably needs is chakra," the Uchiha stated. "Give some to Samehada and it will revive him. He's been on the brink of death more than once since I've been his partner... it's not exactly a rare occurrence with him."

Bastard, Sasori seethed. How can you be so nonchalant about this? "Well, what do I do?" he asked. "Give Samehada a food pill or what? The thing doesn't exactly like me."

Itachi shrugged. "That might work," he said. "But in the past, it always just stole it directly from me. I'd wake up hours later feeling like crap and Kisame would be fine, like nothing ever happened."

Sasori clicked his tongue. "I doubt that'll be the case this time," he said dryly. "He's really messed up. Either way, I'll give it a shot. It's not like Samehada can injure me." He remembered how fiercely the creature had tried to stab him the last time he'd gotten near it - if he still had flesh, it would probably be shredded to ribbons.

"Well, just make sure you have plenty of chakra," Itachi warned. "If you're low, it could kill you."

"Ugh," Hidan interjected. "People saving each other's lives all over the fuckin' place... what is this, a bad romance?"

"It's starting to seem that way," Sasori sighed. "Anyway, unless there's more yelling in store for me, I'm gonna go try to..." He grimaced, embarrassed. "...you know... save Kisame's life."

"Please do," Pain snapped. "Because I can't punish him if he's dead."

Sasori nodded curtly and left the meeting, opening his eyes to find himself back on the hideout's porch that overlooked the sea. What a load of crap, he seethed. Kisame doesn't need to be punished, for crying out loud! We've all been through enough!


As Kisame continued to experience his life history, he cursed everything he could think of. I don't wanna see this again, he thought subconsciously. Please, don't make me see this! He'd rather be subjected to a Tsukiyomi than relive this horrible part of his past - it was far worse than any nightmare realm Itachi could possibly conjure up. As he helplessly crept closer to the time of Fuguki's death, he felt like he was going utterly insane. It was amazing that the experience hadn't driven him crazy in the first place. But then again, he reminisced, I did have a pretty decent distraction...

After leaving Yagura's office, Kisame restlessly waited for the sun to set then crept into Mei's house - she would leave a light on in the kitchen if she wanted him to come over. He didn't really want to stay with her but it was better than trying to sleep in that basement, alone with his thoughts. He'd been doing a good job so far of completely numbing his mind and he hoped that Mei's arrogant bullshit would help him keep it up. He knew that the second he started thinking about his horrible assignment, he'd go insane... so listening to Mei ramble on about how she was superior to everyone seemed quite pleasant in comparison.

"You're later than usual," she said as he sullenly made his way into the living room. "What on earth were you doing all night? It's freezing out there." She was seated on her expensive leather couch, wearing a sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination. There was a kettle of sake on the coffee table that was probably close to empty - she didn't normally drink but this cold snap was driving her nuts just like everyone else.

Kisame sighed and collapsed into a nearby chair. "Why do you ask me questions when you don't give a shit what the answer is?" he growled. "It's fucking irritating."

Mei smiled sweetly as she took a dainty sip of sake. "You're such a casanova," she mused. "It's a wonder you get laid at all with a mouth like that."

Kisame still had the key to her house in his hand... he scowled and held it up for her to see. "Is it?" he sneered. "I don't think there's any mystery about it. You're a confused slut who has a weird thing for bestiality, am I right?" An exchange of scathing insults had become the norm for them... it was as predictable as the sex that inevitably ensued. And right now, he desperately needed something predictable. "Speaking of you being a slut, where's Ao?" he asked. "Don't you guys usually screw each other on Tuesday nights?" He'd been mildly surprised to see her kitchen light on tonight, as it was almost always turned off for her stupid weekly appointment with Ao. He didn't feel jealousy... it was just a mild irritation, like everything else.

"Damnit, Ao and I aren't like that," Mei muttered, pulling at the hem of her revealing nightgown in a feeble attempt to look shy.

"Oh yah?" Kisame growled. "I'm pretty sure he wants it to be like that. He follows you around like a whipped puppy! Don't tell me you haven't at least given him a mercy lay."

"No, I haven't," Mei retorted, curving her lips into an offended pout. "We're just on the same squad, that's all. And either way, he's on a mission... so you don't have to worry about your imaginary... competition. And yes, I know that rhymed."

"You a poet now or what?" Kisame mused. He grabbed the kettle of sake and poured himself a shot - Mei always had two cups set out, as if she was constantly expecting a stranger to come in and randomly fuck her. "Anyway, where'd he go?" he asked. "I saw the mission roster today and he wasn't on it."

Mei straightened herself on the couch, her gaze hardening slightly. "It's none of your business," she replied curtly. "I don't pry into... whatever it is you do. So you should give me the same respect."

Kisame snorted and suppressed a smirk. "I was asking about Ao, not you," he said. "And wasn't your prying the whole reason we first hooked up?" He leaned back in the chair and downed his cup of sake in one gulp. "I distinctly remember you being a nosy, rude bitch before I pinned you down and fucked your brains out," he continued calmly. "Then after that, I just remember how hard it was to fit my dick into your wet little-"

"Kisame, hold your tongue!" Mei snapped, her face as red as her hair. It sounded like she was giving a command to a dog, which was undoubtedly her intent. "I should put a muzzle on you," she added heatedly, her eyes hazing over in contemplation as though she was envisioning Kisame wearing said muzzle.

Kisame threw his head back and laughed. "Christ, woman," he chuckled. "You and your damn dog analogies. You know what you need? You should go to Konoha and snag yourself an Inuzuka. I fucked one of their women about a year back and she was definitely the kind of girl you could treat like a dog. Fangs, claws... she even ran on all fours! Call her a bitch and she'd take it as a compliment, I shit you not!"

"Jackass," Mei hissed. "'Snag an Inuzuka,' seriously? You make it sound like some kind of sport!"

Kisame shrugged as if to say 'obviously.' "Isn't that what you're doing?" he chided. "Dare I call it -" he broke off for a second and laughed again, knowing it was a stupid joke yet finding it hilarious anyway. "-Dare I call it sport fishing?" he finished. "I bet you have fantasies of reeling me in like a damn marlin!" He hooked his forefinger in his mouth and tugged at his cheek, grinning widely.

"Maybe I do," Mei replied, her voice soft. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, leaning forward on the couch to get a better view of her pet caught on a hook. Kisame's grin faded to an uncertain scowl - he hated it when she looked at him like this! When he started to pull his finger out of his mouth, she shook her head and hissed something under her breath that sounded like 'no.'

"For crying out loud, Mei," he grated, ignoring her command. "Does everything have be weird with you?" He clenched his hand into a fist at his side, feeling an embarrassed blush heat his cheeks.

"Says the boy with blue skin and gills," she mused, undaunted. "How can I be anything but weird around you? You're like a..." She rose from the couch and slid onto his lap, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "... A rare animal," she sighed, her voice little more than a whisper. "I can't help but want to tame you." Her smile was deceptively sweet as she ran a finger over his lips, just hard enough to slip in and graze his sharp teeth.

Kisame growled and shifted uncomfortably in the chair, resisting an urge to bite her fingers clean off. She wasn't wearing any underwear and he could feel every detail of her hot little cunt against his stiffening cock. This woman treats me like shit, he seethed, but I still get hard for her like clockwork! He slipped a hand under her nightgown and groped her perfect ass before sinking his fingers into the curve of her gash. She moaned and ground her hips, eager to be penetrated, as usual. As he complied, squeezing his fingers into her tight passage, she did the same thing to his mouth, probing it with more and more audacity until he felt like his face was getting fucked. He hated the way she managed to debase him - sometimes it felt like rape even though he was the one with a cock - but at the same time, it never failed to arouse him. It had been the same way with Zabuza... there was just something about humiliation that sparked a weird lust within him.

Mei cursed under her breath and eagerly pulled Kisame's cock out of his pants, stroking it a few times before guiding it to her cunt. "I don't feel like foreplay tonight," she moaned. "I just want to fuck your brains out!"

Kisame scowled around the fingers in his mouth. He wanted to object just for the sake of argument but all that came out was another growl as Mei pushed his hand out of the way and abruptly sat on his cock, squirming to get the whole length inside of her all at once. Once he was balls deep, he shivered and moaned despite himself. No matter how often they fucked, she was always incredibly tight and her passage seemed to be designed solely to fit his length - the tip just barely pressed up against her cervix when he was buried as deep as he could go. A lot of the women he'd screwed weren't so deep... full penetration had caused them a great deal of pain, forcing him to fuck with only half of his dick.

Mei stayed seated on his cock for a while, her face flushed, before slowly moving up and down. She put a hand on his hip to hold him place as she did do, seeming to care only about her own desires at the moment. It didn't really matter - Kisame knew he'd cum at some point - but it still annoyed the shit out of him. She was the most selfish lay he'd ever encountered and if she was any less attractive, he wouldn't put up with it for a second. Every time they fucked, he resisted an urge to overpower her. It would be so easy, too - just to pin her down and nail her until she cried, maybe fuck her ass while he was at it. Hurt her, make her feel afraid.

Then get her fuckin' pregnant, he thought. Or... maybe not. Impregnating Mei was a fucked up sentiment, especially now. Because despite Yagura's assurance that he'd be covered after going through with his mission, Kisame had a feeling that shit was going to go downhill for him no matter what. Murders that went public always aroused suspicion - it had been that way after he slaughtered the cipher core squad. A hearing, a jury, the whole nine yards... and even though he was pardoned, the term 'Monster of the Hidden Mist' was now used more than ever. 'Who can just kill their comrades like that?' people wondered. 'He really is a monster!' And after Fuguki's death, it was hard to say what would happen. A shinobi could be excommunicated from their village without an official charge. So even if he did manage to get Mei pregnant, there was a good chance he wouldn't be around by the time the kid was born.

Well, fuck it, he told himself. Even if I shouldn't get her pregnant, I can still have my way with her. I might not get another chance. Before his thoughts could allow him to hesitate, he easily pried her hands from him and flipped her over on the chair with one quick motion, pinning her wrists behind her back. She was so stunned, she couldn't even speak - she just froze, her eyes wide and glazed over with shock. It took a minute for her to struggle and when she did, he smacked her ass so hard it left a red welt in the perfect shape of his hand.

"Be still," he growled. "Or I'll hit you even harder!"


"And also shut up," he added, shoving her face against the seat of the chair. "I'm so sick of your voice I could vomit, you stuck-up bitch!" When she tried to speak again, her ground her face into the seat until she struggled for air. "Don't make me gag you," he said softly, passively watching her shiver and convulse until her face turned dark red. When he finally released his hold, she noisily caught her breath, gulping in air as if she would never get enough. She clamped her mouth shut once she was sated and glowered off to the side, too pissed off and embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"Good," he sneered in the same tone she used when giving her 'commands.' "Now raise yourself up on your knees." She was positioned face-down on the chair, her legs sprawled awkwardly over the ground. She seemed hesitant to comply but when she saw his open palm getting ready to strike her again, she dragged her legs into a kneeling position so quickly it probably gave her carpet burn. Kisame smirked, glaring down at her gorgeous, welted ass, then knelt down behind her, keeping his hand locked in a vice-like grip around her narrow wrists. She hated it when he fucked her 'doggy style' so this was half the reason he wanted to do it. And also, he knew of something else she hated even more...

"I'm gonna eat you out," he decided aloud as he crouched down further. "And then I'm gonna stick my tongue up your conceited ass." Since Mei was pinned down like this, he knew it was unneccessary to state what he was going to do... but the look of horror she shot him was priceless. He was so delighted by it that he had a hard time not laughing like a maniac as he spread her asscheeks with his free hand. Even though she was furious, she was incredibly turned on - her pink slit was swollen and so wet it was almost dripping. He was surprised that this situation was arousing her and it sent a thrill of lust straight to his groin. It was difficult to suppress his eagerness as he leaned in and ran his tongue over the slick gash, not quite hard enough to slip in. Mei moaned through clenched teeth and tried to clamp her legs shut but Kisame's knees were wedged between hers, forcing her to stay spread. Grinning, he continued to tease her, sliding his tongue up and down her wet slit, grazing her clit but refusing to indulge it. He'd done this to a number of women before and while they all had their own quirks when it came to orgasm, he knew quite well how to torture the hell out of them in the meantime.

"You're really wet," he murmured between licks. "I don't know why you hate this so much."

Mei's response was just a groan and a little thrust of her hips. She still seemed afraid to speak, which was fine with him. After a few more moments of teasing, he finally let his tongue sink into her gash. It was slick and soaking wet, her lips so swollen they squeezed his tongue. He'd never felt her so turned on before and he wondered if maybe this was the reason she hated oral sex so much - perhaps she didn't like men seeing and feeling her this aroused. And tasting. He hadn't tasted her since the first time they'd screwed but he remembered loving the way her fluids were so sweet and slick in his mouth. Now it tasted just as good, if not better. He had an aversion to sweets and a problem with food in general but when it came to oral sex, his appetite became ravenous. Gender didn't even matter... his obsession with eating someone's pleasure was a borderline disorder. He used to suck Zabuza off repeatedly, just so he could savor his precum then swallow his seed. The same had gone for Fuguki - eating the man's release had often been even better than the sex. It was more intimate, like consuming a part of the soul. And as for you, Mei, he thought heatedly. I'll devour you!

He spent almost half an hour eating Mei out, bringing her close to orgasm then depriving her until her cunt was a dripping mess. She'd been reduced to something sub-human, incapable of anything besides pathetic moans and squirming. When he slid his cum-slick tongue up to her asshole, she didn't even protest. He'd been teasing it this whole time, rubbing his thumb around it and lubing it up with her own fluids. He swirled his thumb one last time before replacing it with his mouth. She cried out but didn't tense up and after a few more minutes of torturing it, he slipped the tip of his tongue inside. It was much tighter than her cunt and he had to use his tongue like it was a cock to work his way deeper, pausing to let her get the feel of it before pushing in more. As he patiently worked his way in, he slid his hand down to her clit and began to rub it. He wanted her to cum like this, degraded in all the ways she hated until she felt just like the animal she'd been making out of him.

When his tongue was in as far as it would go, he gingerly started thrusting it in and out as his fingers increased their speed on her clit. She'd been close for an eternity now so he knew it wouldn't take much. After less than a minute of this, she cried out hoarsely and spasmodically ground her hips against his face as she came, her whole body shivering with ecstasy. When she was done, he kept his fingers against her pulsing clit and slowly, almost reluctantly, withdrew his tongue from her ass. It tasted just as good as her cunt - the reason was probably because she was obsessively hygienic and always cleaned herself both inside and out. After fucking men for the last few years, Kisame knew the routine and didn't really understand why a woman would bother to go through it. Either way, he felt no remorse at all as he bent over her and planted a kiss right on her mouth. She struggled and moaned weakly, her cheeks bright red with humiliation.

"That's so disgusting, Kisame," she rasped when he broke the kiss. In her post-orgasm buzz, she'd apparently forgotten she wasn't supposed to speak. Kisame smirked and slapped her ass to remind her, although he didn't do it nearly as hard as earlier. He didn't really care if she spoke at this point... she was already degraded to his liking.

"Oh, come on," he mused. "You liked it." He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against her asshole and laughed when she recoiled in horror. "You've never been fucked in the ass, have you?" he asked, teasing the slick spot with his dick. Mei furiously shook her head, terrified. "It's not as bad as you might think," he said. "If you relax, it actually feels good."

"Kisame, I swear to fucking god," she panted. "If you put that monstrous thing up there, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Kisame chided. "Beat me up? Kill me? Right now, you're in no position to do either." He emphasized the statement by giving her wrists a rough squeeze. However, even though he felt almost no empathy for her, he still didn't want her to brand him as a rapist. It was quite a conundrum. "How about this," he finally decided. "If you hate it all the way through, I'll let you give me a slow and painful death. You can melt me with lava, corrode me with acid, whatever you want to do. That's a fair bargain, isn't it? My life for a few minutes of possible discomfort? And you know I'm a man of my word."

"You'd better say your prayers," Mei grated. "Because I know I'm going to hate it!"

Kisame laughed, delighted. "Alright then, we have a deal," he mused. "But I'm warning you, I have a lot of experience. You might actually end up loving it."

"Whatever," Mei spat. "I've heard the rumors - you only have experience on the recieving end!"

"Hey, while that may be true, it's actually a good thing," Kisame assured her. "I know firsthand how much it sucks when someone does it wrong." Here was one rumor that actually wasn't total bullshit - neither Fuguki nor Zabuza had ever let him be on top, not even once. With Fuguki, it had simply been an unspoken rule... since the man had paid for every single round of sex, he obviously hadn't been obliged to do anything he didn't want to. But with Zabuza, it had been quite a bit different. His ex had such a fear of being topped that the one time Kisame had tried, he'd been met with violent resistance. Kisame had a feeling that perhaps the poor bastard had been sexually abused as a child... or something. It would definitely explain his extreme aversion to penetration, along with a lot of other things. The unreasonable anger, for one. But regardless of the reasons, it was a hard fact that Kisame had never succeeded in fucking anyone in the ass. He'd stuck his cock in plenty of mouths and pussies but that was the extent of it. It was pathetic that he'd been almost solely with men for the past few years and hadn't managed to get his dick anywhere near an asshole.

"Yah, well... if you hurt me, you're gonna regret it," Mei threatened. "I'll make you wish you were never born!" Even though she was still furious, she didn't sound quite as hysterical. Apparently, Kisame's assurance had given her a little shred of hope that perhaps, being sodomized wasn't going to be the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, well..." Kisame murmured as he slipped his fingers in her dripping cunt to wet them. "...It's gonna hurt a little bit. But you're a tough chick. You'll be alright." He swirled his index finger over her asshole then gingerly slid it in, using a gentle thrusting motion until he was knuckle-deep. Mei cursed and squirmed, her face flushed.

"That's..." she stammered, "...really uncomfortable."

"Hush," Kisame growled softly. "Don't be such a pussy." He carefully thrust in and out of her until the tight passage finally began to relax; when it did, he slipped in a second finger without breaking his rhythm. Mei moaned pathetically and squirmed again, seeming to be torn between fear and eagerness. Kisame had a feeling she was more afraid of enjoying herself than actually being injured. Nonetheless, he made sure to stretch her out thoroughly, eventually scissoring her with three fingers before he was satisfied that it would be enough. He was most definitely a man of his word so the extra time it took was worth avoiding a grizzly, painful death.

Mei was glaring at him out of the corner of her eye when he spit on his dick to get it wet. "That's so gross," she grated.

"What, the spit?" he mused. "Give me a break, it's just going up your ass. Were you expecting me to pull a bottle of lube out of my pocket or something?" He spit some more onto his hand and rubbed it onto the tip of his cock, sneering at her stuck-up pout. "It works just as good as lube," he said. "You're the first person I've met who has a problem with it."

"That's cuz you've only done this kind of thing with a guy," she retorted. "And men are all slovenly pigs!"

"God, you're fucking vapid," he muttered. "I can't believe you're a candidate for Mizukage." Before Mei could spout another dumb response, he withdrew his fingers and pressed the tip of his cock against her ass. Her features paled and she swallowed thickly, goosebumps raising up on her fair skin. She looked exactly how Kisame had felt during his first time with Fuguki. But he knew that the fear would melt down to lust within minutes - even though Mei didn't have a prostate, simply being penetrated by a stiff cock was a horny feeling in itself. She's so into getting fucked, I'm sure it'll turn her on, he told himself. Well, hopefully it will. Before he pushed in, he slid a finger over her cunt to see if she was still aroused and sure enough, it was hot and swollen, pulsing with need. Spurred on by the fact, he bit his lip and pressed the tip of his cock against her ass until it slipped in. Even after stretching her out forever, she was still so tight it made his head spin - he barely even heard her moan a loud string of profanities.

"Mmm... shut up..." he murmured, forcing his cock in another fraction of an inch. "Just relax."

"Kisame, you fucking bastard!" Mei howled, squirming frantically. "I'm gonna rip you to shreds!"

"Yah, yah," Kisame growled absently. "You can do whatever you want when I'm done. So don't act so-" His breath hitched as he pushed in a little more. "-Dramatic." He grabbed her hip with his free hand to hold her still as he slowly worked in his length, pausing frequently to let her get the feel of it. It was tempting to just cram it in all at once - he now understood why his male lovers had been so adamant about being on top. It felt amazing. Much tighter than a cunt. When he was finally in to the hilt, he was dizzy with lust and had to take a few deep breaths to keep his head level. Mei seemed to be doing the same thing - she'd stopped her loud protests and was breathing raggedly, her taut body shivering.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked once he was able to speak. "I promise, that was the most painful part."

The only response Mei was able to conjure was a hoarse groan. Her face was red and her forehead was soaked with sweat.

Kisame laughed harshly, loving how utterly pathetic she looked. Who's the dumb animal now, he thought heatedly as he slowly began to thrust. Evil sentiments aside, he knew how sore her ass probably was so he barely moved his cock in and out of her for a while, using a vast amount of self-control to let her adjust to the sensation. He passed the time by gazing down at her penetrated asshole - the pink ring was stretched to its limit around his thick blue shaft, tight with strain. The room was well-lit and seeing every detail of this debaucherous situation was sinfully erotic. He couldn't help but be delighted at how utterly monstrous his cock looked impaling her cute, virgin ass. I bet Fuguki felt the same way the first time he fucked me, he mused. Like he was *defiling* me. What a wonderful feeling! He frantically pushed his thoughts of Fuguki from his mind as soon as they had formed, deathly afraid that it would cause him to panic about his mission. It was a much more terrifying thing to think about than Mei potentially murdering him.

"Damnit," Mei rasped, breaking his train of thought. "Go faster!"

"Seriously?" he replied, shocked. "It'll hurt."

"Just shut up and go faster," she muttered under her breath.

"Heh... alright." Beside himself with triumph, he began to fuck her harder, withdrawing his cock nearly to the tip before slamming back in. Mei panted a curse, squirming her hips to meet his thrusts. Her switch in attitude was so drastic it was almost bipolar - it was as though she'd completely given up on trying to hate it.

"If I let go of your wrists, will you be good?" he asked between thrusts - suddenly, he didn't feel the need to restrain her anymore. She nodded briskly, biting her lip and flexing her hands impatiently. When he let go, she immediately grabbed the armrests of the chair for leverage and bucked against his cock, grinding it feverishly as if it would never be deep enough. Damn, she really is a tough chick, he thought to himself. There was no doubt she was still in pain.

He realized he was insanely overheated and spontaneously ripped off his headband and shirt while Mei ground him, tossing the garments on the floor. "Lemme get you naked," he growled at her, running a hand through his damp hair. She paused long enough for him to wrench her sheer nightgown over her head - she was hot too, her back slick with sweat, soaking a few strands of her red hair. The main fireplace was in this room and it was churning out way too much heat for this amount of exertion. "It's a damn inferno in here," he huffed. "Let's go to your bedroom."

Mei stilled herself and shot him a weird glare. "I don't want you to pull out," she said. "It'll hurt like hell!"

"Yah, yah," he replied. "I know." He flipped her over, slinging her leg easily over his shoulder until she was sitting on the chair, still impaled on his cock. She was much more flexible than any of the civilian women he'd fucked - it was one of the many bonuses of screwing a shinobi. Grinning, he scooped her up and rose to his feet, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "You're light as a feather," he mused, kicking off his sandals, then his pants. "I bet I could carry you around all day without getting tired."

"That's just cuz you're crazy fucking strong," Mei said softly. "You're like a..."

"If you say 'animal,' I'll bite your damn lips off," he threatened.

Mei smirked mischievously. "Animal," she whispered. Before Kisame could say 'fuck you,' she fiercely pulled him in for a kiss, clawing his back as she crushed their mouths together. Kisame groaned and returned the kiss just as hard, biting at her lips and fucking with his tongue. As he made his way to the bedroom, their mouths feverishly raped each other, struggling for dominance... when he finally broke the kiss, both their lips were swollen and flushed from the abuse. Mei didn't have sharp teeth but her bites could definitely mar flesh.

"Fuckin' bitch," he growled, climbing onto the bed and laying her down beneath him.

"Bastard," Mei said sweetly. It was amazing how quickly she had recovered from her humiliation, amazing that she was able to uphold her harpy attitude even with a ten-inch cock up her ass, amazing that she wasn't reduced to tears. Simply amazing.

"Your ego needs a severe beating," he said, almost to himself. He leaned down and bit her nipples as he began to thrust again, torturing each one thoroughly until they were both swollen and red. Mei arched her back under his ministrations, grabbing the sheets beneath her and writhing her hips. Her cunt was so wet it was dripping onto his cock, adding to the lubrication. Kisame growled and felt it up, slipping a few fingers between the slick, swollen lips. It was like a puddle - his hand was soaked when he pulled it away. "You got a dildo?" he breathed, licking his fingers clean. "I wanna fuck your pussy too."

After a pause, Mei bit her lip and reluctantly nodded toward the nightstand next to the bed, blushing fiercely. Without losing his rhythm, Kisame reached over and rummaged through the drawer, messing up her organized possessions until he felt something phallic. He removed it and burst out in laughter when he saw it - it was slate blue and the same exact size as his cock. "I don't know whether this is flattering or creepy," he chuckled.

"Shut up," Mei hissed. "It's just a coincidence!"

"Oh, come on," Kisame prodded, grinning crookedly as he poked her in the face with it. "Just admit it... you're obsessed with me."

Mei scowled furiously and batted it away. "Shut up," she repeated.

"I bet you think about me when you use it," he taunted. "Calling out my name and shit." Still grinning, he licked the tip and lewdly sucked it, letting his teeth drag along the length. "Oh, Kisame," he moaned dramatically. It tasted horribly like rubber but it was kind of erotic, having a him-shaped dick in his own mouth. He had brief thoughts of stealing it and fucking himself in the ass with it - he'd tried the whole 'screw your doppleganger' thing and had ended up with a bed full of water. The clones would do his bidding and even act sexy up until things got heavy, upon which they burst into a home-wrecking deluge. But shadow clone jutsu on the other hand... if those clones could inflict damage, they could almost certainly fuck. Maybe that's why it's a forbidden jutsu, he mused.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and guided the dildo between Mei's legs, rubbing it over her slit a few times before pushing it in. She gasped loudly, her body tensing from the new intrusion. Two monstrous cocks fucking her simultaneously had to be a strange sensation. It looked strange too, almost like he had two dicks - he knew that some sharks had two and wasn't too thrilled about the analogy. Either way, seeing her so thoroughly impaled was insanely erotic, regardless of how weird it was. He got a rhythm down to where both were stabbing into her at the same time and it filled her up so completely, he could actually see the movement in her abdomen. Weird, he repeated to himself. But hot.

After about a minute of this, the dildo became so slick with her juices that he could barely grip onto it. The entire area between her legs had become a wet mess - she was soaked from the crack of her ass all the way up to her perfectly trimmed patch of pubic hair. He could tell she was on the verge of another orgasm and couldn't wait to see it happen. "Here, take the dildo and fuck yourself with it," he ordered softly. "I want my hands free." She eagerly complied, grabbing the rubber cock from his hand and thrusting it into her cunt even harder than he'd been doing it. Her motions had a practiced ease that suggested she'd used the thing about a million times before. With both hands free, he sat back a little and slung her legs over his shoulders so that he could see every detail of her holes crammed full of blue cock. He was painfully aroused himself and had to control his movements to ensure he wouldn't cum before her.

Luckily, she didn't take long. Within a minute, her body tensed with the oncome of orgasm and her movements became more frenzied. "Kisame, you bastard," she moaned through clenched teeth, rubbing her clit with one hand, using the dildo with the other. "You perverted fucking bastard!" She came seconds later, her ass clenching around his cock as the peak wracked her senses. It was too much for Kisame - he came almost simultaneously, grabbing her hips and spilling his seed deep inside her. It was the first time he'd ever cum inside something other than a mouth and the feeling was utterly euphoric. It made him wonder how in the hell he'd managed to pull out every time he'd fucked her cunt. Drained and exhausted, he spent a while just sitting there catching his breath as his cock slowly went limp. Mei was equally spent - her eyes had drifted shut and her whole body was flushed with exertion. She still had the dildo crammed in her pussy and didn't seem to give a fuck about it at the moment. He snorted and gingerly pulled it out for her, looking for somewhere to put it and finally just tossing it on the floor.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'm gonna pull out."

Mei's eyes opened to lazy slits. "Be gentle," she murmured.

"Of course." His dick was soft so it slipped out easily, barely eliciting a wince from her. He stared down at her thoroughly ravaged ass for a while, admiring his work, before lowering her legs from his shoulders. "Let's take a shower before we pass out," he sighed. "You'll be pissed if you wake up in the morning with gizz all over the sheets."

A small grin curved Mei's lips. "You know me too well," she mused. She lethargically rose to a sitting position, her long hair tangled and disheveled. She looked as though she was going to say something else but instead, she grabbed Kisame's shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. It was nothing like their usual tongue battle - it was soft, slow and gentle, causing Kisame's heart to flutter in his chest for reasons he didn't understand. When they finally broke the kiss, his face was hot and he knew he was blushing. So was she... her cheeks were flushed and there was a strange look in her eyes that he'd never seen before.

"Come on, let's go shower," he muttered, afraid that he'd say something stupid if he kept staring at her. He rose from the bed and popped his back, then reached over to help her up. She was so tired she was almost ragdoll limp - he found himself practically carrying her to the bathroom.

Once in the shower, he did most of the work, soaping her up and gently scrubbing her clean while she leaned against a wall. He even washed her hair. The ministrations reminded him of the way Zabuza had done this the first time they'd fucked, tenderly caring for him after all his sadistic abuse. Unfortunately, that was the only time the man had been so thoughtful - toward the end, he'd become downright evil, leaving Kisame tied up and miserable long after the sex was over. After letting someone fuck you in the ass, you deserved at least some respect! Because even though it was arousing, it was a painful and exhausting ordeal. It had obviously taken its toll on Mei, who was listless and half-asleep as he bathed her.

When they were both clean, he turned off the water and toweled her off before drying himself. She helped him a little bit, wringing out her long hair and combing out the tangles. All of her makeup had washed away and she looked even prettier without it. Kisame wanted to go back in time and slit the throat of whoever invented makeup - he'd never met a single woman who actually looked more attractive with it on. It was usually the opposite... garish lipstick and eyeshadow made most chicks look like fuckin' clowns.

"Hey, let's go to sleep," he told Mei once she was dried off. He scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom, slipping her under the sheets. As she curled up and got comfortable, he couldn't help but feel affection - she was so damn adorable when she wasn't ordering him around and spouting insults. Sighing, he forced himself to turn away and head for the door; ever since she'd given him the key to her house, she'd made him sleep on the couch, fully clothed. It was probably better that way - less chance of getting caught - but he still disliked it. It was just excessive confirmation that she kept him around for sex and nothing more.

"Kisame..." Mei's voice sounded gentle and sleepy, so different from her usual tone.

"What is it?" Kisame growled, turning to face her. She probably wants me to wash her stupid dildo, he thought irritably.

"Will you... stay in here with me tonight?" she asked. For once, she sounded genuinely shy.

Kisame blinked as he repeated the words in his mind. "What, in the bed?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course," she replied. "What else would I mean? The floor?"

He cautiously walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. "It's hard to tell with you," he said. "And also, I'm still kind of expecting you to murder me... you could be forming a handsign under the sheets for that wretched acid mist."

Mei sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not going to murder you," she muttered. "Just get in."

"Eh, fine," Kisame relented, getting under the covers and stretching out next to her. "But I'm exhausted... so if you change your mind, just don't wake me up when you're killing me." He hadn't slept in a bed since his break up with Zabuza and it felt sinfully comfortable. When Mei curled up to his side, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder, he smirked and let his eyes drift shut. She's like a different person right now, he mused. If she was this nice to me all the time, I'd probably fall for her.


He awoke at the same time he always did - about an hour before dawn. After staying over at Mei's for so long, he had developed an internal alarm clock that urged him to wake up and get the hell out of her house before the sun rose. He was tired, too... sleeping next to Mei had made him so horny that he'd woken up three separate times and fucked her. He felt his dick through the sheets and scowled when he found it to be hard as a rock yet again. What the hell is the matter with me? he wondered. Maybe I have a condition.

Deciding that it would be downright cruel to fuck Mei for a fifth time in one night, he got out of bed and masturbated in her bathroom, grabbing her dildo on his way in and watching himself deepthroat it in the mirror until he came quite neatly into her sink. After that, he promptly got dressed and left. Mei was still passed out... he was tempted to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek on his way out but thought better of it. After this mission, she's gonna want to forget all about me, he told himself.

Speaking of his mission, he had a considerable amount of prep work to do. He loathed traps and rarely used them so it was going to take some time and effort to make one that could actually kill Fuguki. While it was true that his superior probably wouldn't be expecting to meet his demise tonight, Kisame didn't want to take any chances. He liked to be thorough with his assassinations.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he felt nothing whatsoever. Switching off his emotions was a skill he couldn't survive without in this profession and it applied more than ever right now - he was grateful for all the horrific training he'd endured to get to this level of control. He wandered over to a teahouse and ate a bland breakfast of rice balls and green tea, agonizing over various strategies as the morning slowly progressed. A waitress who knew him tried to start some small talk but eventually gave up after receiving about a million rote responses.

"How are you doing?"


"What are you up to today?"

"Not much."

"Any exciting missions coming up?"


It was impossible to plan a murder and hold a conversation at the same time. When he left the teahouse, he gave the poor girl a larger-than-normal tip as a condolence for his boring company, amongst other things. He'd fucked her in the cramped, ill-lit kitchen pantry a few months back and had accidentally shoved her face into a bag of wasabi powder. It had messed her up so bad, she'd actually had to go to the hospital... so needless to say, he was surprised she still talked to him at all.

Despite the distraction of the waitress, he'd managed to piece together a feasible trap and all the components he would need. While most of the shit was already in the basement's vast armory, there were a few things he had to pick up from a weapons store. Chains, for one. And trip wire. He'd used the last of his trip wire to protect the cipher core squad - a lot of good that had done!

When he got to the store, he had to wait half an hour for them to open... it was still early morning, the muted sun low in the sky. He knew that the day was probably going to drag on forever, minutes sluggishly ticking by like hours. It was always this way before an assassination. After acquiring his materials from the nervous, sullen shopkeeper (she was one of the assholes who called him a monster behind his back) he wasn't sure what the hell he was going to do for the rest of the morning. The trap would only take a few hours to prepare and he didn't want to set it up too soon in the slim chance that Fuguki or Yagura would wander down there during the day. It would be horrible to head in for the meeting to discover either man chained up and slowly bleeding to death. I guess I could train, he told himself. Not like I need to for this mission... but it would pass the time.

So after stashing his trap components, he headed out to the training field. He was forbidden from using his suiton out there this time of year because it turned the whole area into an ice slick but he could always hone his katana skills. A lot of swordsmen got rusty during the winter, preferring their warm houses to the harsh elements... since Kisame was pretty much homeless during the day, he was definitely not one of them. A few shinobi who respected him (yes, there were a few) always told him he was the best in Kiri with sword skills. He dismissed the compliments as awkward flattery but it occasionally made him wonder if there was a chance it was true. He definitely trained more than anyone else... that much he knew for certain.

When he got to the field, he was miffed to find Suigetsu Hozuki there, trying and failing to throw a kunai at a wooden bullseye. The kid was only seven or eight years old but ever since his brother had passed away, he was bent neurotically on becoming one of the Seven Swordsmen. Maybe in a decade his wish would come true... but in the meantime, he was just an insolent pain in the ass. Scowling, Kisame pulled a kunai from his weapons pouch and hurled it at the target, breaking it in half with the impact. It startled Suigetsu so bad he almost pissed his pants.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Kisame growled, walking up to the shattered target and picking up his kunai. "Do your parents know where you are?"

Once Suigetsu was recovered from his shock, he rudely stuck out his tongue and middle finger simultaneously. "It's none of your business," he huffed. "My parents don't give a fuck where I am right now!"

"Goddamnit," Kisame sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Watch your mouth. Kids aren't supposed to fuckin' swear."

Suigetsu grinned and crossed his thin arms. "You're telling me not to swear while you're swearing," he countered, as if he had discovered some loophole in the laws of physics. "Aren't you supposed to be a role model?"

"No," Kisame stated flatly. "Absolutely not... I'm the last person you should model yourself after. And also, I can cuss all I want because I'm an adult. If I swore when I was your age, my boss would've cut my damn tongue outta my mouth!" It was true - when he was working at the docks, captains literally disfigured workers who spoke rudely. More than one poor bastard was speaking with a lisp to this day because their tongues had been mangled by a knife. So went the lives of the unfortunate. Since Suigetsu was from the wealthy Hozuki clan, he'd never had to endure anything similar to Kisame's childhood. He ate well, never worried about money, and lived with his family in a mansion just as opulent as Mei's. He was the epitome of a spoiled brat.

But there are also downsides to having a family, Kisame forced himself to remember. He's lost his brother. I have no idea what that feels like. He supposed that it was actually pretty strong of Suigetsu to be out here training rather than locking himself away in his bedroom and crying like a bitch. "Well hey," he growled. "I have some time to kill... do you want to train for a while?"

Suigetsu's face brightened and he flashed a grin full of unfiled, even teeth. "Really?" he marveled. "That's so awesome, man!"

"Come on, now," Kisame chuckled. "Show some manners and call me sensei."

Morning passed into afternoon and by three pm, Suigetsu had finally learned how to hit a target with a kunai. This wasn't the first time Kisame had grudgingly trained the kid... he'd shown him some basic self-defense as well on similarly dull days. The boy just always seemed to be out here on the training field, making Kisame wonder if his parents were too caught up in grief over Mangetsu's death to be proper... well... parents. Either way, the punk was so exhausted that he had to carry him back to his house and dump him off on the doorstep. He gave the door a few quick knocks then made himself scarce - he was sure that the prestigious Hozuki clan would not be pleased to discover that their now only son was secretly being trained by the Monster of the Hidden Mist.

Either way, Kisame felt like he'd done his good deed for the day - not like it would make up for the crime he was planning, but still. He watched from a distance as Suigetsu's concerned parents opened the door and doled out a few half-hearted reprimands before hugging him and ushering him inside.

Hmm... he brooded, squinting up at the sun's vague position in the cloudy sky. Three and a half hours til the sun sets. Damnit, there's still time to kill. Sighing, he wandered back over to the same teahouse he had loitered in earlier and ordered a kettle of tea. Luckily, it was a different waitress this time - an older woman who rarely bothered to make conversation with him. Glad for the relative privacy, he grabbed a newspaper and laid it out on the table. Reading Kiri's paranoid, bullshit propaganda wasn't exactly the best way to pass the time but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He scowled at the headline, which was written in bold kanji with a lot of exclamation marks.


Kisame clicked his tongue, annoyed. Again? he wondered. What the hell is wrong with that village? He'd been to the Land of Wind a few times and the barren landscape had made him feel edgy and exposed. No woods to hide in, no rain, a horizon that stretched out to infinity in every direction... that landscape alone would be enough to drive someone mad. Why is there even a hidden village out there? he brooded. There's nothing to protect... just a bunch of sand!

Irritated, he flipped the page to find a number of 'threats to Kirigakure.' These articles were little more than tabloids, founded on only a shred of truth, at the most. KONOHA ASSASSIN SPOTTED LESS THAN A MILE FROM TOWN - TARGET UNKNOWN. Now that's ridiculous, Kisame seethed. Sounds more like someone saw a mythological beast than a shinobi. However, he knew that articles like this were fabricated solely to hide the type of missions he himself carried out. It was pathetic that Kiri's population was so easily duped. Strange new technologies, plans for war, dangerous jinchuriki hosts... apparently, these ridiculous threats were enough to subdue a society.

A few pages in and the paranoid headliners were mostly gone, replaced by vapid editorials, comic strips and 'lifestyle' articles. There was even a fashion section! According to the person (presumably a woman) who wrote it, striped arm and leg warmers were going out of style. 'The height of the Seven Swordsmen's glory has long past,' she stated. 'Their horrendous fashion sense should die along with their infamy. Solid, warm colors are in this season and stripes are definitely out! I'm talking about you, Zabuza. And while I'm on the topic, you could definitely do without those ridiculous bandages you always wear on your face... it doesn't make you look as mysterious as you might think!' Kisame sputtered on his tea, laughing despite himself. The writer was anonymous but he was almost positive it was Mei. Who else would dare to openly attack Zabuza... and about something so materialistic, no less? What a bitch, he mused. Next time I see her, I'll make sure to wear fuckin' stripes.

Toward the end of the paper, another anonymous writer had a 'sex advice' section. This apparently slutty person always had a long-winded response to readers' various naive questions. He was about to skip over it but changed his mind when he saw that today's topic was homosexual.

Q. I've been seeing a boy now for a few months. We love each other very much but he won't let me fuck his ass because he's afraid it will hurt. I'm at the end of my rope... please help!

A. Your boyfriend's fears are legitimate... anal sex can be extremely painful if you don't know what you're doing. You have to go slow and stretch him out with your fingers first, then very gradually ease in your cock once he's ready. If he's nervous, it will just be more painful. I suggest you both drink a few glasses of sake first to relax, then when the time is right, begin to finger him during foreplay. While you're giving him head (or whatever he's into) wet your index finger and very gently slip it in his ass. Don't mention anything about fucking him... just let him get used to the sensation and see if he enjoys it. Make sure to stimulate his prostate - you should be able to feel it once your finger is in deep enough. If you take your time and massage it for a while, there's no way he won't enjoy it. If he doesn't start begging for more, don't sweat it. Let him have an orgasm then back off. He won't forget how great it felt being fucked by your finger and before long, he'll ask for your cock. Just remember to wear a condom when you finally do the deed... there's some nasty diseases you can catch if you're not protected!

Kisame smirked and sipped at his tea, wondering who the author was. While the answer was extremely idealistic, the guy (it must be a guy!) seemed to know what he was talking about. Well, it definitely wasn't Fuguki, he told himself. He's never worn a condom, not even once! Not like they'd fit his damn horse cock anyway. Out of nowhere, the thought of Fuguki suddenly made his throat tighten and he found that he couldn't breathe. Just one second of lowering his mental defenses was enough to set his mind reeling with panic - vivid images of fleeing the village, committing suicide, murdering Yagura, anything to avoid killing his mentor scrambled unsuppressed through his brain. His legs twitched with an animalistic instinct to run and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Blind with dread, he hunched over the table and shielded his eyes with his hand, afraid that the waitress would see his glazed over expression and ask him if he was okay.

Several minutes passed during which he was utterly paralyzed, unable to do anything but raggedly hyperventilate. The breathing exercises he usually used to calm himself weren't working at all - his lungs simply refused to function, spasming wildly in his ribcage. He dug his fingernails into his forehead and clamped his eyes shut, searching desperately for a shred of inner peace. It wasn't until he bit his tongue that his heartrate finally began to slow down. Wincing, he focused intently on the pain, grinding his teeth down into the flesh of his tongue until it was all he could feel. By the time he was breathing remotely normally again, his mouth was full of blood. Shuddering, he made himself swallow it then quickly chased it with a gulp of tea.

"Hey, are you alright?" Kisame reluctantly looked up to find the waitress looming over him, her weathered face scrunched with concern. He hurriedly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then took another drink of tea, burning his mouth in the process. The one time she decides to talk to me, he seethed. Damnit, fuck my life!

"I'm fine," he managed to reply, his voice pathetically ragged. "Probably just... um..." He trailed off for a few long moments as his stress-fried brain scrambled for a plausible excuse. "... Just too much caffeine," he eventually finished. It was a shitty lie but it was the best he could do.

"You sure?" the waitress pried, her arms crossed. "You're shaking like a leaf!"

Kisame closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, wishing the woman would just disappear. "It's just too much caffeine," he repeated blandly. "I don't have... uh..." He trailed off and shook his head. "... Don't have... a tolerance..." Making his mouth form words was extremely difficult and he wondered briefly if retarded people felt like this all the time. Seconds dragged by and when he didn't hear the waitress leave, he opened his eyes and staggered to his feet, nearly toppling over the chair. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills - after staring dumbly at it for a minute and realizing he had momentarily forgotten how to count, he tossed the wad onto the table and promptly headed for the door, avoiding the waitress' searching gaze like it was the plague. His legs felt like rubber and he was surprised he actually made it to the door without eating shit.

Once outside, he leaned against the front of the building and slid down to a crouch, burying his face in his hands. There were a few people out and about and he knew they were already gawking at him - unfortunately, his panic was still too severe to control. Let them gawk, he thought listlessly. Maybe they'll start a few new rumors. He envisioned it as a tabloid: MONSTER OF HIDDEN MIST HAS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN IN MIDDLE OF STREET! VILLAGERS FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES! And then there'd be some quotes from witnesses, of course. "He looked really scary! I thought he was gonna start killing people!" - shopkeeper, west side. "He was shaking really bad... maybe he was high on cocaine?" - dishwasher, business district. The tabloid would be crammed at the bottom of the front page, squeezed beneath the bigger and more serious article about Fuguki's horrendous murder and Kisame's immediate admittance to the insane asylum. There would be two photos amidst the text - one of the late Fuguki, one of wild-eyed Kisame frothing at the mouth in a straightjacket.

Goddamnit, it's not far off the mark, he thought to himself, trembling so bad his teeth were chattering. I haven't even killed him yet and I'm already losing my mind. Out of the countless assassinations he'd completed, each one had taken a little piece of his sanity. Fortunately, he was naturally a very sane person so he had a lot to part with. But he knew - he knew! - that this was going to finally drive him over the edge. No amount of calming exercises would deter it, no amount of booze or mindless sex. And whether it happened immediately or weeks down the road, it was going to hit him full-force at some point and he had no idea if he would be able to recover.

You're asking too much of me, Yagura, he seethed, clutching his head like it was going to explode. I'll do it... but you're asking too much!


"Kisame's freaking out, right in the middle of town!" White Zetsu's voice was poorly restrained with nosey excitement.

"He might not go through with the mission." Black Zetsu's contribution to the story was his usual, matter-of-fact growl.

Obito gave his bipolar spy a curt nod in response, his fingers edgily drumming on Yagura's desk. He'd been pushing Kisame to his limit in recent months to see if he was Akatsuki material and this was the final test. Just how far would he go to maintain peace? Could he take the life of his closest comrade to secure the lives of many? Whether he passed or failed, that was yet to be seen. "I hope he succeeds," he muttered under his breath. "He would be... invaluable... to the organization."

"Yah, yah," White Zetsu cut in, grinning with his half of face. "I think you've got a crush. Watching all my recordings over and over like it's your favorite movie! Personally, I think he's kinda weird looking... but whatever floats your boat."

"Can it," Obito snapped, irritated. "I'm straight! And the only reason I've been watching him so much is so I can correctly manipulate him into joining! He's not a damn criminal who I can con with promises of protection from the law!" He sighed and leaned back in Yagura's big, extraordinarily comfortable chair... Yagura himself was currently taking a genjutsu nap in another dimension. The only times he ever brought the jinchuriki out of his stupor was when he was needed for appearances. Such a prolonged hypnotism was beginning to have its effects on the poor bastard - he was falling ill from both physical and mental atrophy - but it didn't matter that much. Soon, he would be done with his social experiment on Kirigakure and if everything went according to plan, he'd come away from it much better off than when he'd started.

Yes, his reign on Kirigakure was no more than an experiment. Cut off from the rest of the shinobi world, relatively small in size and resources, it was the perfect village to test some theories out on. Furthermore, their social structure had already been brutal and rigid to his requirements - Kiri had been the Bloody Mist Village long before he stole the Mizukage's seat. The gory graduations, the cruel, brainwashing methods of training, the cannibalistic assassinations of malcontents... all of this had been in place since long before he was even born. So everything was already set! His desire to see if peace was possible without the bother of Tsuki No Me could easily be achieved in such a village. And it had been achieved - peace was fucking impossible. Since he'd stepped in four years back, his efforts to enforce it had only spawned more violence. Kirigakure was miserable, overflowing with ridiculous, booze-fueled murders, robberies, suicides, every crime in the book. And the reason, as far as Obito could see, was that people got bored without war. If there wasn't a threat of mass destruction looming over their heads, they turned upon each other to stir things up! Apparently, this was just a fact of human nature and no normal methods could quell it.

And honestly, this conclusion really, really sucked. Tsuki No Me was a pain-in-the-ass project, requiring years upon years of hard work... jinchuriki were fearsome opponents and there were very few shinobi out there who had the battle prowess to take one on. Also, the money situation was problematic - said shinobi needed to be paid a considerable amount to make it worth their while, after all. So if peace could be attained in some other way, it would be a lot easier. The fact that long-dead Rin wouldn't exist in this more convenient utopia was shitty but honestly, it was just a minor drawback. He'd been so many years without her that his grief had waned to a cold and very asexual hatred for the shinobi world. What would he do anyway if a powerful genjutsu brought her back to 'life?' He was a bitter, insane maniac with a fucked up face and prosthetic limbs... hardly the inept yet charming Obito she'd known in life! He'd feel awkward and embarrassed letting her see him, even if she wasn't real.

Either way, Tsuki No Me was his only option, regardless of how difficult it would be to achieve. He was bent, obsessively, on creating a world where deaths like Rin's no longer happened and he was going to reach his goal, no matter what the cost! Humanity was a sad, stupid species, full of petty differences that gnawed away at its own sanity. The only solution was enforced peace - and the only way to enforce peace was Tsuki No Me. It was surprisingly simple, once you boiled it all down.

"You're drifting off again," Black Zetsu growled, breaking Obito's train of thought. "We've warned you against that."

"Damnit, I know," Obito sighed, scowling. "You've told me about a million times!" Since his disfiguring accident so many years ago, his solitude had become more of a problem than a boon. It had started in that damnable cave he'd been stuck in during his recovery - having only insane old Madara and vapid, overly congenial Swirl Zetsu to converse with had made him spend more and more time with his own company. He was much more interesting than those idiots! Over time, he'd even developed other personalities to chat with - some of them morbid and serious, others feminine and seductive, one that was constantly angry and demanding. Apparently, this ability was actually an illness called schizophrenia. Supposedly, these inner voices could become overwhelming and coerce him into doing stupid things. Obito didn't really believe that he had an illness... nor did he ever do anything stupid. But nonetheless, he'd been listening to the Zetsus for so long that he grudgingly heeded their advice and kept himself occupied as much as possible to avoid lapsing into a potentially 'dangerous' inner conversation.

Hence the recordings. Not only were they an invaluble source of information... they also helped with the boredom of isolation, a lot. Zetsu had an ability to transfer what he saw firsthand into a hologram, based on the same jutsu used in the telepathic Akatsuki meetings. Although when this jutsu was focused and concentrated, it was much more realistic. Television (which had baffled Kisame to a hilarious degree!) paled in comparison - these holograms conveyed every detail of the recorded event, including scenery, sound, even angles he could manipulate on a whim. He could experience these scenes with more clarity than the people in them! And over the last few years, he had been experiencing Kisame's life in more detail than he cared to admit. Thanks to White Zetsu's love for inappropriate spying, Obito knew pretty much everything he could possibly know about the poor swordsman... from his post-assassination breakdowns to his weird eating habits to his even weirder sex life. For instance, he knew that last night, Kisame had stuck his tongue up Mei's ass before brutally double-penetrating her. Luckily, Zetsu went into a trance when he showed his recordings because Obito had lewdly jerked off to it, changing the angles and replaying their orgasms over and over until Kisame's huge, debaucherous cock might as well have been his own. And this wasn't the first time he'd masturbated like this - over the past few years, he'd been vicariously living Kisame's life, especially the... intimate parts. The fact that much of Kisame's sex habits were homosexual seemed oddly irrelevant. Obito didn't have a damn life of his own - when he wasn't pretending to be Madara, he was hidden away from the public eye, holed up in one secret location or another with no human contact other than the Zetsus. Shit, he'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone had sex! Twenty years old and still a virgin... pathetic! But thanks to Kisame and his plethora of lovers, he felt like he'd been laid countless times.

He knew everything about Kisame and those he interacted with, including countless mundane details. He knew that Zabuza brushed his teeth several times a day because having them filed had exposed the nerves, he knew that Mei was self-conscious about a birthmark on her thigh, he knew that Fuguki liked having his earlobe bitten during sex, he knew that Kisame often burst out in laughter from his own train of thought when no one was around. So yes, he did have a social life... it just wasn't his own. As a result, he felt a strange bond with Kisame, as if he'd been living the past four years at his side. They were about the same age, seperated only by a few months. Perhaps in some alternate reality, they would have even been friends. But as it was, Kisame would probably never know Obito's true identity - if they developed a relationship through the Akatsuki, it would be that of superior and underling, Madara Uchiha and one of his many pawns. I know him so well, he brooded, but he'll never know me, at all!

Oh well, he told himself. This is the life I've chosen... no sense in being sore about it. When Tsuki No Me is achieved, nothing will matter anymore! And plus, I finally get to meet Kisame face-to-face tonight. It would be his first social interaction with anyone in a long time, not counting the speeches he gave through Yagura or his chats with the Zetsus. No, tonight would be the real thing! He was going to reveal his true agenda to the swordsman... pour out his heart. Nothing would be concealed, save for his identity. Needless to say, he was quite excited. Well... this is all assuming he doesn't crack first, he reminded himself. What a waste that would be!


It took Kisame nearly half an hour to compose himself enough to get up and walk. While everyone was too scared of him to openly gawk, he was pretty sure almost the entire population had managed to catch a discreet glimpse of his breakdown. The street had become suspiciously busy and every time he'd looked up, someone was nervously looking away. Apparently, the Monster of the Hidden Mist having a panic attack in the middle of town was too exotic of a sight to pass up.

Well, it doesn't matter anyway, he told himself as he worked on his trap in the privacy of the basement. By tomorrow, it will be old news. Honestly, he found it ridiculous that his breakdown had caused such a stir in the first place... Kiri's streets were lined with vagrants, drunks and lunatics who were much more blatant about their mental problems. He supposed it was just the fact that he had such a sinister reputation - people didn't expect a killing machine like him to show emotion. And it had barely even been a shred of emotion! He hadn't cried, screamed, thrown a fit whatsoever. Had he been sitting on a bench or somewhere people were actually supposed to sit, he doubted that anyone would've noticed at all!

I suppose Yagura's right, he brooded. People get bored without war. If my stupid problems are interesting to the public, there really is something wrong with society. His thoughts fluttered over the morbid subject for a short while before drifting back to nothingness - his breakdown had left him too emotionally drained to hold any considerable train of thought. He supposed he should be grateful for the numbness but instead, he felt a hollow sort of defeat. He now realized that the crippling panic he'd experienced had been his sense of virtue, screaming out in desperation against the atrocious nature of his mission. And the fact that he'd had to subdue his own moral core to drag himself back to sanity was simply horrible. He knew that his personal beliefs were secondary to the safety of the village but never before had his feelings conflicted so severely with a mission. No amount of numbness could shake the sickening knowledge that he was about to do something wrong.

He fought down a wave of nausea as he made the finishing touches to the trap, pulling the tripwire tight across the floor where he knew Fuguki would step. He'd thrown up a few times already and now he was just dry-heaving, retching like a cat with a hairball. Even though his mind was dulled down, his body was still suffering from the effects of stress, aching and shivering, muscles spasming. His stomach felt like it was on fire and he wondered briefly if he'd eaten something bad before remembering that he always got nauseous like this when he was upset... it just usually didn't happen until after the assassination. But then again, he'd never had to kill anyone he was so close to before.

Goddamnit, Fuguki, he seethed. Why did you have to betray the village? Didn't you stop to consider that I'd be the one Yagura sends after you? The anger he'd felt when he'd seen that video in Yagura's office had waned, eroded by all the other elements he'd been forced to consider. He knew Fuguki was broke - even the stoutest stockpile of cash could dwindle after years of cocaine abuse, gambling and paying for sex. The fact that Kisame himself was the one who'd received most of that sex money didn't sit well with him, at all. Why didn't he just ask me out on a date like a normal person? he wondered for the millionth time. I would have said yes! Unfortunately, nothing the two had done together had ever qualified as a date - their insane, drug and booze-fueled fucking rounds were probably best defined as binges. Numbing their minds and screwing each other until they passed out from exhaustion was a textbook example of addictive behavior. The saddest part about it all was that neither man had wanted things to be that way... Kisame had inwardly longed for something deeper and the way Fuguki's eyes had softened after sex suggested that he'd felt the same way. Just a few words would have changed everything - a muttered 'I think I'm in love with you' or 'it doesn't have to be like this' - but it had never happened. Both men were too cold and emotionally stunted to confess their feelings. Thanks to this pathetic ineptitude, things had slid downhill until even the most profound selection of words wouldn't mend the harm they'd done to each other. And now here they were, their bond hurtling toward a brutal conclusion.

The phrase 'doomed relationship' didn't even begin to touch it.

Well, everything's set, Kisame told himself glumly as he carefully backed away from his trap. All that's left to do is wait. He glanced up at the battered old clock on the wall that had been faithfully ticking ever since he'd become an assassin - the rusted hands were pointing at six fourty-five. One thing he could rely on was the fact that Fuguki was extremely punctual. If he wasn't here by seven o'clock on the dot, it would be his first time ever showing up late for a meeting.

He passed the time by washing up in the basement sink, using cold water to keep himself alert. He was almost out of clean clothes (laundry had been the last thing on his mind today) so he wound up changing into the pair of Seven Swordsmen-style pants he'd stolen from Fuguki so long ago. They weren't as ridiculously long on him as they used to be, making him realize that he actually did get taller recently. A growth spurt at age twenty? Ridiculous! He supposed that his sparse eating habits had delayed it. Either way, he knew that through Fuguki's death, he was going to acquire Samehada and unofficially become one of the Seven Swordsmen... but he wasn't dressing for the part on purpose. He was just out of clean clothes! Honestly, he didn't even give a shit about possessing the Great Blade for its powers - he had so much chakra that it seemed redundant to have a sword that absorbed it. He just found it disturbing yet adorable that the poor thing was sentient. Unlike Fuguki, who always kept it bound up in bandages and never let it be... whatever it was, Kisame felt it should treated like a pet. He had no idea what kind of strange magic had created the thing... he just knew that it liked to swim and roll around in mud. He also knew that Fuguki planned on passing the sword down to him one day, although that day was nowhere in the near future. The man had been angry about something a while back and had shouted, 'you can have it over my dead body!' 'Fine,' Kisame had replied, equally furious. 'Maybe I will!' An ironic dispute, indeed. What the hell were we arguing about anyway? he wondered. His brain was too fried to remember but he was pretty sure it had been over something petty, like who should pay the tab at the bar.

When he was done washing up, he glanced at his reflection in the small mirror that hung above the sink, searching for any signs that might betray his true intent to Fuguki. People had always told him that his eyes expressed a lot of emotion but as he glared at the animalistic, black rimmed orbs, he saw nothing in them at all. He supposed it was an accurate reading - he was so drained from stress that he felt like his skull was full of cotton balls instead of a brain. The only thing he noticed about his expression was a slight wince caused by his hellacious stomach ache. He forced the muscles in his face to relax, un-scrunching his eyebrows and working his tense jaw until his reflection was a perfect mask of calm. His sharp, predatory features prevented him from ever looking particularly placid - his appearance made him seem frighteningly hungry, like he wanted to take a bite out of someone - but considering what he had to work with, he thought he looked relatively harmless. Fuguki was terrible at reading into people anyway so it didn't matter that much.

When he heard Fuguki swing open the heavy iron door that led into the basement, his carefully composed expression wavered slightly, betraying a second of sheer agony, before he forced it back under control. He left the washroom to find his mentor descending the stairs, a hint of excitement in his gait.

"Kisame..." the older man said, "I've done something I probably shouldn't have done!" As he stepped into the main room, the flickering light of the oil lamps illuminated his round face, revealing a feverish glare.

Oh god, don't confess your crimes to me, please! Kisame panicked, straining to keep his expression stoic. I have enough guilt as it is! He managed a response of some sort and his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. The trip wire was only a few feet in front of Fuguki - he was mere seconds away from stepping into it. It took Kisame every ounce of willpower he possessed not to shout 'stop!'

"It was morally questionable but I did it for... ... Hey, are those my pants?"

The hiss of the tripwire was a soft prelude to the harsh clang of sword-studded chains coiling tight around the man's large body, stabbing deep into his flesh amidst a gruesome spray of blood. Fuguki didn't even have time to react - only his expression changed, from excitement to agony. When Kisame dizzily took a few steps forward, his mentor was working his mouth but no words were coming out, just blood.

Hey, are those my pants? Shitty dying words.

Kisame couldn't speak either - he'd planned on saying all sorts of things but his throat was so tight he felt like he was being strangled. He wanted to apologize, reconcile, even beg the man for forgiveness... but he was rendered completely mute. All he could do was stare blankly as Fuguki choked and shuddered with death throes, blood pouring from his wounds, forming a puddle at his feet. When he reached for Samehada's hilt with an odd expression on his face, Kisame unsheathed his katana and delivered a lethal blow before he even knew what he was doing. His body was on autopilot, acting on years of engrained instinct to kill without thinking.

And then it was over. Pierced in the heart and most of his vital points, Fuguki managed to grate a strangled 'Kisame', his narrow eyes burning with heartbreaking intensity, before promptly dying. His body spasmed a few more times then went limp - he slumped to the ground in a mess of bandages, blood-soaked robes and chains.

Kisame's body was still moving on its own as he tossed aside his katana and recovered Samehada from the corpse, callously ripping the trinkets off the strap as he shouldered it. The poor sword seemed to be on autopilot too - it was completely docile, seemingly unaware of its abrupt change in ownership. Perhaps for both of them, the murder hadn't hit home yet. It certainly hadn't for Kisame. As he stared down at his mentor's lifeless body, he was unable to grasp the reality of it... he felt like he was viewing the crime scene from some remote location. Other than the stress-induced aches his body was still suffering from, he was completely numb. He knew that this was because Fuguki himself had taught him how to stifle and delay his reaction to trauma, put it aside until a more appropriate time arose for grief.

But I don't want to delay it, he thought as he rolled the corpse onto its back with the toe of his sandal. I want to feel it now. Something... *anything*. Fuguki's face was a mask of agony, frozen in a rigid wince, and Kisame knew that if he looked at his own face in the mirror, nothing but a vacant glare would meet his eyes. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. I've killed my closest comrade, he mourned, and I can't even shed a fucking tear! Goddamnit, I really am a monster!

The sound of footsteps approaching behind him abruptly snapped him out of his thoughts. He whirled around and grabbed Samehada's hilt, preparing to attack. "Who's there?" he shouted into the pitch-black hall, his muscles tensing with a surge of adrenaline. His numbness finally subsided, replaced by a violent rage that was completely irrelevant to the mission. Quite frankly, he was just furious that someone would intrude on him during such a personal moment. Can't this asshole see what's in front of him? he seethed. Can't I have a second of fucking *privacy?!*


Obito was so shocked by Kisame's rage that he almost didn't reveal himself. Holograms were obviously no substitute for seeing things first-hand because the swordsman's intensity nearly sent him reeling. Intent to kill was so thick in the air he could feel it, like a chill - he knew that if he checked his arms, he'd find goosebumps. His teleportation jutsu made him a very difficult man to hit but he had no desire to risk his luck against this... monster. God, such strength! Just one well-placed punch would undoubtedly take his life. I guess I picked a bad time, he told himself, peering edgily through the shadows at the crazed expression on Kisame's face. He is fucking *pissed!* Spattered in blood, jagged teeth bared in a vicious snarl, he looked more like a wild animal than a human being.

Luckily, Kisame held his terrifying rage in check when he saw Yagura emerge from the shadows. After a few words were exchanged between the two, he even became calm - Obito knew all about the training the man had been through to quell his emotions and it peaked his interest to see it in action. A few regulated breaths, a barely discernable relaxation of muscles and the murderous glare was replaced by a stoic mask. Obito inwardly sighed with relief, feeling the goosebumps diminish on his arms. Forcing shinobi to become machines was a morally questionable practice but he was grateful for it right now. There was no sign of the dangerous animal who had been standing there mere minutes ago... this was just an emotionless drone, ready to be manipulated.

And Obito was ready to manipulate. He had become so adept at playing the part of Madara that he could do it without even thinking about it. The deep, solemn tone of voice, the intimidating, self-confident posture, the jagged hairpiece set so that only the disfigured side of his face was visible... it was all as natural to him as breathing. So the hostility and skepticism Kisame showed upon their introduction predictably waned to a muted sort of awe. For someone who despised Konoha so much, it was surely a profound experience to talk face-to-face with the man who'd almost succeeded in burning it to the fucking ground.

Once he'd delivered his speech, Obito fell silent, trying to read Kisame's reaction. Tsuki No Me was a difficult project to wrap one's head around and it was apparent in the swordsman's wary stance that he wasn't exactly falling head-over-heels for it. But I didn't expect him to anyway, Obito reminded himself. It will take time to bring him over to my side.

"So you want to create a world where violence is no longer necessary," Kisame growled. "But a genjutsu on the damn moon? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"I've had that same thought many times," Obito replied honestly. "But I assure you, there's no other way. Your own experiences should show you how difficult it is to enforce peace." He glanced down at Fuguki's blood-soaked corpse and Kisame's gaze solemnly followed his, his predatory eyes blanker than a doll's as they focused on the carnage. "You've had to do terrible things for the sake of your village," Obito continued. "And it's taken its toll on you, I can tell. You're losing your direction, unsure of where you belong."

"You don't know a thing about me," Kisame muttered, still glaring down at Fuguki's corpse.

I know more than you think, Obito mused. A *lot* more. "I know you're not a monster," he stated, crossing his arms. "But if you stay here, you'll become one. Slaying your comrades is a burden no man should have to carry and it'll never end as long as the shinobi world exists. You will continue to sacrifice your own sanity until one day you'll lose yourself completely! I've been around a long time and I've seen it happen to a lot of good men." He took a few steps forward so that he was standing right in front of the swordsman, although not quite close enough put himself within striking range. "Join me," he said. "Become my comrade. Fight by my side and we'll work together to create a world of true peace."

Kisame's hard glare wavered and when he looked up at Obito, his eyes revealed a raw despair that fringed on madness. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think," he grated, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.

"You're not supposed to think anything," Obito replied, nearly drowning in that awful gaze. "I want you to make up your mind on your own. In the meantime..." He finally diverted his eyes and glanced back down at Fuguki's corpse. "... Let me help you clean up this evidence. We've been down here too long already."

Surprisingly, Kisame laughed, the sound harsh and out of place, then ran a hand through his shock of blue hair. "You sure about that?" he mused. "He's not gonna fit in the incinerator all in one piece."

It took Obito a fair amount of effort to keep his face stoic. We have to chop him up? he brooded, mortified. Disgusting! "Alright then," he said, masking his reluctance. "Let's get to work."

Two arms and half a leg later, he felt a chill run down his spine, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck. He knew what the feeling was immediately and when he focused his sharingan, he was dismayed yet not at all surprised to find the colors of two bright chakras hovering outside the iron door. So that's what Ao's been up to, he seethed, noticing the milky-pale hue of the Hyuga clan's chakra mingled with the rest. He must have killed a Hyuga and kept it secret from Yagura. And I bet he's been hiding away all week, healing so he can use that eye! What a sneaky bastard! He abruptly stopped sawing at Fuguki's leg and looked over to find that Kisame had also paused, his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Someone's outside," the swordsman growled quietly. "Samehada's bristling."

"Damnit, of all the times..." Obito muttered, wiping off his blood-stained hands with a clean corner of Fuguki's robe. "It's Mei and Ao, I can tell by their chakras. And Ao has byakugan, he can see everything in here! I have to go before my whole operation's blown but I'll do my best to help you escape." He quickly rose to his feet and walked over to Yagura, who'd been slumped in the corner like an idling piece of equipment this entire time.

"Escape?" Kisame echoed as he stood up. "What..."

"We've been caught," Obito hissed, nerves prickling. "If you don't escape, you'll be executed, understand? Now get the hell out of here before it's too late! I'll send Zetsu to aid you as soon as I can!" With that said, he began to teleport away with Yagura in tow. The last thing he saw was the supremely baffled expression on Kisame's face followed by a neon-bright gush of lava bursting through the door.


Who the fuck is Zetsu? Kisame wondered as Madara and Yagura mysteriously vanished into thin air. His mind was a mess of confusion but there was no time to tend to it - Mei's lava jutsu was flooding down the stairs, almost reaching his feet before he stopped it with his suiton. Unfortunately, Fuguki's corpse had been caught up in its path - now it was half-burnt, filling the room with the stench of sizzling hair and flesh.

"See, I told you it was him," Ao shouted, appearing through the melted remains of the door and glaring down triumphantly at Kisame. He scrambled down the stairway, tripping a few times on the bumpy, solidified lava, then skidded to a halt at the entrance to the room with Mei at his side. His left eye was squinted shut and there was a patch over his right eye, veins bulging grotesquely around it from the strain of using byakugan. "And there were two other people here, I swear it," he insisted, glaring wildly around. "They were..."

Mei tugged numbly at his sleeve, begging him to be silent. Her gaze was fixed vacantly on the horrendous crime scene before her and when Ao finally stopped using his byakugan so he could see normally, his jaw dropped in dismay. Kisame passively glanced around the room, noting the saw soiled with chunks of human flesh, the pile of dismembered limbs, the spray of blood that had somehow even reached the walls, and, of course, Fuguki's mangled corpse suspended in the solidified lava like a fucked up centerpiece. He'd never seen such a mess himself so he could only imagine how shocking it was for the two intruders. Poor Mei was pale and trembling like a leaf, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"You don't need byakugan to see what's happened here," he muttered. "To say this was a bad time would be a huge understatement."

"Kisame, how could you?" Mei breathed, finally finding her voice.

"I used a trap," Kisame replied bluntly, knowing she didn't actually mean 'how.' "He died before he even knew what hit him."

Mei shook her head in disbelief. "But why," she pleaded, her eyes large and brimming with tears. Male or female, she was still a Kiri shinobi so she'd been trained extensively not to show emotion.

Is she really that upset? Kisame wondered, feeling a pang of guilt as though he'd hurt her. He thought about telling her the truth, that Fuguki had sold information to the enemy and betrayed the village, but ultimately decided against it. Perhaps it had been that heartbreaking look in his mentor's eyes before he died or maybe it was just guilt... but Fuguki didn't deserve to be branded as a criminal, not after the price he paid for it. "I wanted his sword," he lied, shrugging. "I guess I got impatient."

"It doesn't matter why you did it," Ao cut in, presumptuous authority in his voice. "You've committed murder! And I'm positive now that you're the one behind all those disappearances over the past few years!" Mei opened her mouth to protest but clamped it shut when she saw Kisame passively shrug again.

"Yah, it was me," he blandly confessed. "No point in lying about it now that you've discovered this place." He unholstered Samehada and pointed it menacingly at the two. "So what're you gonna do? I just got this sword and I'm not too keen on dying before I get to try it out."

Ao nervously assumed a fighting stance but Mei didn't move a muscle. She looked like she was about to start bawling. "It can't be true," she choked. "I don't believe you!"

"Why the hell not?" Kisame growled. "Cuz I've been fucking you? Don't tell me you've been having delusions of us living happily ever after or some shit!" His breath hitched when he saw the expression on her face - she looked utterly devastated, as though he'd just ripped out her heart and devoured it. "Come on now," he grated, his voice coming out softer than he'd intended. "Quit staring at me like that."

"Delusions," she echoed weakly. "Is that how you see it?" She blinked and tears streamed down her face. "Last night, I felt something for you that I've never felt before! It was deeper than lust... it was profound, almost! Like we were meant for each other! And the way you looked at me, I thought that maybe... you felt it too..." She trailed off listlessly.

Why are you doing this, Mei? Kisame seethed, his throat tight. You're just making it harder! "Damnit, woman," he muttered, doing his best to sound annoyed. "I must have fucked your ass too hard or something because you're obviously out of your mind! We're not meant for each other... we don't even like each other! Hell, the only reason I ever got with you was cuz I needed a place to stay!" He glared over at Ao, whose face was red with jealous rage. "You should get with this bastard," he mused, still addressing her. "He's probably got a tiny dick but at least you wouldn't have to bribe him to get him in bed."

"That's it, Kisame," Ao howled, his voice ragged. "Your time is up!" He drew his katana (a weapon he probably used just in an attempt to copy Kisame and get laid) and lunged wildly at the swordsman, his eyes glassy with hate. Kisame grinned and dodged the attack easily, not even bothering to use Samehada to counter. Ao was a proficient fighter but when it came to swordsmanship, his intermediate-level experience didn't pose a threat. It wasn't until Kisame saw Mei poising herself to form handsigns that he finally became serious. The girl's bloodshot, teary eyes were narrowed into a pained wince and her mouth was a quivering line.

"Maybe you're right," she said, her voice shaking. "Maybe I am out of my mind! I must be insane to fall for a monster like you!" Her hands were a blur as she weaved her complicated signs and Ao returned to his senses enough to hastily retreat to her side. Trapped in the line of fire, Kisame barely had time to form his one simple sign for the water shockwave - the two elements clashed mere inches in front of his face, lava nearly reaching the tip of his nose before it solidified. The water around him immediately became scalding from the expelled heat and in a desperate decision, he expanded the jutsu until waves were roaring through the entire web of tunnels, flooding the place. The current sent him violently hurtling through the narrow passage behind him and he hit his head, hard, on a cement wall before steadying himself. Swimming out of Kirigakure was not how he had planned to escape but as he slipped into the tunnel that led outside the village, he remembered that he hadn't had a plan at all. It takes forty minutes to walk out this way, he told himself dizzily, so hopefully I'm going at least twice as fast. I can't stop this jutsu now and I might end up drowning! The infamous Demon Shark, drowning in his own stupid jutsu... he supposed it would be a suitable demise. Mei and Ao on the other hand had been right by the entrance so they were probably both safe and sound by now, which was a relief. He hadn't meant a single word he'd said back there - it was just better for Mei to hate him than to mourn for him - and he wouldn't be able to bear it if he killed her on top of breaking her heart.

Every passing minute seemed like an hour as he frantically swam through the pitch-dark tunnel, scraping his arms and legs against the walls until he was sure his limbs were stripped of skin. His lungs were burning, his head was throbbing, and Samehada was squirming on his back, clawing the shit out of him for no understandable reason. The weapon was acting like it wanted something but Kisame had neither the time nor the means to find out what it was right now. They'd have to learn to communicate later, if he survived this ordeal.

By the time he reached the steep incline that led to the surface, he was, and had been, drowning. He'd finally run out of breath about a minute ago and had blindly inhaled... now he was just floating with the current, his mind shutting down from lack of oxygen. When he broke the surface, he was lucky that the lip of the tunnel caught him violently in the chest, forcing a huge amount of water to come spewing out of his mouth. He gasped and coughed breathlessly for a while then spent a long time lying on the ground, his lungs sucking in air until his senses returned to him.

"There! Over there!" Kisame sluggishly turned his head to find a squad of jounin running his way. Apparently, Mei and Ao had already alerted the village of his treachery because these people were obviously performing a sweep. To make it even worse, it was pitch dark out and the fuckers all had torches, reminding him of a witch hunt. What'll they do if they catch me? he wondered as he staggered to his feet. Tie me to a stake and burn me? Considering how crazed the winter had made everyone, he wouldn't be surprised. He forced himself to start running, convinced that drowning would have been a pleasant alternative to whatever was in store for him now.

He ran and he ran and he ran. Fucked up as he was, he was still faster than his pursuers, and once he figured out how to get Samehada to heal him, he widened the gap even more. By the time he finally stopped long enough to look back, the sun was creeping over the horizon and there was no one behind him at all. There was no doubt he was still being chased but at least kunai and arrows weren't zinging by his head anymore. Judging by his surroundings, he had covered about forty miles.

Yet another thing I can thank Fuguki for when I meet him in hell, he thought. He used to make me do sprints until I barfed! He squatted by a stream and took a quick drink of water before getting up and running some more.

He ran all day, alternating between a jog and a sprint, until the sun began to set and he was so far out in the wilderness that he couldn't gage his location by his surroundings anymore. He'd made sure to get himself as far away from civilization as possible and he worried that maybe he'd done too good of a job. He was in the middle of nowhere. Also, it was right around freezing and while the cold hadn't gotten to him yet, he knew he'd start feeling it the second he paused to rest. He wasn't even wearing a coat, just a sleeveless shirt and Fuguki's worn-out pair of pants. I have to keep moving, he told himself. I'll get hypothermia if I don't.

So he started walking. Even though Samehada had given him plenty of stamina, he could feel fatigue beginning to wear on him. Most of it was emotional - his brain was a mess of trauma that he couldn't even begin to sort through. From Fuguki's death to Madara's appearance to Mei's bizarre confession, he wasn't even sure what was what anymore. It was too much to handle. The sole fact that he was now a criminal who was running from the very village he'd sworn to protect was more than enough for the moment. He shook his head as he walked, dizzy with disbelief.

Time ticked by, punctuated by nothing but his own terrible thoughts. What have I done? What should I do? Where can I go? He had no answers that were even mildly consoling. Since he'd confessed to all of his illegal assassinations on top of Fuguki's murder, there was no way Kirigakure would ever take him back. They'll be waiting for me with a sharpened guillotine instead of open arms, he thought miserably. But still, part of him wanted to go back anyway and accept his punishment. Maybe it would be better than spending the rest of my days running like this, he told himself. At least I'd be back home. He was more attached to Kiri than most shinobi - after all, the village as a whole had been his surrogate family. He could sit out on the docks during sunset and almost feel the embrace of a loving parent. It was in the warm sunlight that reflected off the water, in the scents that rose from the crowded marketplace lining the riverbank, in the flap of sails unfurling as ships prepared for voyage.

Ah, but it's gone now, he mourned. If I ever feel that warmth again, it'll be while I'm awaiting my execution.

By morning, he was utterly lost, both emotionally and physically. His mind felt like a lead weight and he was fairly certain that he'd been wandering around in circles all night, too wrapped up in grief to pick a direction and stick to it. When he saw his own footprints from earlier in a track of mud, he sighed and sat down on a fallen log. Let them find me, he thought listlessly. I'm sick of this already. He slumped forward, resting his head in his hands, and let his eyes drift shut. He half-heartedly wished for death, in one form or another. Hypothermia... arrow in the back... giant centipede... he pondered as sleep drew close. Doesn't matter... It doesn't fucking matter...

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Ah, shit finally hits the fan! Exciting, right? And unfortunately, this is yet *another* chapter that wound up being too long so I had to cut it in half. I'm actually almost done with the next one, which I swear, is going to be the end of Kisame's flashbacks. There's gonna be a crazy fucked up plot twist, and also some, errr... cannibalism and tentacle rape. Yah. I bet you can you guess which character this is going to center around. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry about the ass-to-mouth. I really don't know what came over me, which is the case with most of this story.