Chapter Twelve: The Gumo Heika (Part II)

The Stranger's POV:

Those seconds waiting, they hung heavy, like a blade over my head. My heart wasn't thumping with fear, no, it was something more like… eagerness. I straightened my coat, squaring my shoulders.

The door creaked open, grudging as an old man's knee. I stepped into that dim, cheerless antechamber, my eyes darting around. Nothing but shadows and dust, so I moved on, towards the main room, just a stone's throw away.

Then, a whisper of breath on my neck. "Captain Hyuga," a voice, smooth as silk yet sharp as a knife, slid past my ear.

I whirled around, my Byakugan flaring up like a beacon in the dark, but I was alone, save for shadows that seemed too fond of their secrets.

And then I felt it – a creeping, crawling sensation, like insects scuttling over my skin. I glanced down and saw them: spores, sprouting right out of my shadow, reaching up like desperate fingers. They were a part of me, yet strangers, a riddle wrapped in a mystery.

I took a step back, but they clung to me, stubborn as sin. They spread, weaving a tapestry of puffy tendrils through me.

A chuckle broke the silence, dry as autumn leaves. "Your strength, Captain Hyuga, it's a sight to behold. But what's strength against the earth itself, eh?"

I couldn't even muster a pretense of fear – I looked at the head forming around my torso.

"You have three seconds, Zetsu."

"Or What?".

I watched him, letting the seconds tick by. I knew well the trick to dealing with his sort – not to flee, nor to cower, but to confront, to stand tall and claim my ground. I centered myself, focusing my chakra inward, feeling it swirl and gather like a storm within the eye of my mind.

With a breath, I released it. All my tenketsu points burst open, releasing chakra in unison.

It exploded out of me, a roar of pure power. The air trembled, a maelstrom unseen. The spores met the full wrath of my will. They tried to dig in, to anchor themselves within me, but against my fury, they were nothing.

They came undone, disintegrated, tossed aside like nothing. I stood there, in the midst of their failed assault, a silent testament to their folly.

"Why do you do this?"

"Just testing you" Zetsu spoke from somewhere, a bit dejected. "Go on. You can go in."

I sighed and straightened my clothes, my cape. With a final tug, I turned, my boots echoing on the cold stone as I approached the door. It swung open before I could reach it, as if inviting me into another world—a world bathed in soft, almost dreamlike light.

I found myself in what seemed like an art gallery, but not like any I'd seen before. It was an odd place, the walls and the high, domed ceiling adorned with a mishmash of paintings and plaques. All manner of art jostled for space, clamoring for attention. Sculptures, some standing tall and free, others perched on plinths, were strewn about with a carelessness that spoke of both wealth and disregard.

At the heart of it all, sat the Gumo Heika. He was like a statue come to life, if statues could be said to have life. His dark brown hair was a stark contrast to his pale brown skin, creating a ghostly aura that made him seem less a man and more a specter. His four arms were laid out in a display of calm power, and his eyes… His eyes were mere slits, but it was that third eye, right in the middle of his forehead, that marked him as something other, something foul.

My mouth felt dry as I stood there, second-guessing my brash decision to step into the Gumo Heika's lair. If he took my interruption the wrong way…

"Come in, Captain," his voice, smooth as silk, sliced through my doubts. His slivered eyes caught mine, one hand gesturing with a small, precise motion. "Your impressions?"

I managed a weak response, "It's… something, sir," as I edged closer to him.

"Merely Ninjutsu," he said, a tinge of regret in his voice. "The sculptures, the paintings. Many have been lost, others now adorn the halls of the Daimyō's palace."

"Yes, sir," I Agreed with him so that we could go to what was important. "I though you'd want to know, we eliminated Mashasahi Hyuga".

His third eye looked at me.

"However," I continued, choosing my words carefully, "the item he took… we couldn't recover it. It wasn't with him. But we know it's in the village".

His eyebrow raised slightly. "And the witnesses?"

I felt a cold satisfaction settle in my gut. "There are none. All taken care of. Except for one—a lucky catch, really." I paused, measuring his reaction. "I believe he's the brother of the future clan head of the Hyuga clan. He certainly look like it."

The Gumo Heika's gaze lingered on me, calculating, measuring. "The Hyuga, you say?" His voice was smooth but laced with something colder, something darker.

"Yes, sir." There was to much joy in my tone, a joy I couldn't wash away with words.

"Is there more?"

"Yes. The team, in all the ways that matter, are to young, sir. To sloppy."

He drew a deep breath, sat up straighter in his chair, and for the first time since I'd entered, his golden eyes fully opened.

I held the Gumo Heika's gaze, a flicker of pride in my chest. Many of the previous Gumo Heika's lot never got used to those sharp eyes, or he himself. Probably why he'd been out in the sea for years, bringing those wild pirates under the Gumo Heika's heel. His victories out there won him the chance to duel the previous Gumo Heika for his seat and we'll, the rest is history.

But a I often wonder how much higher we would be if after the Second Shinobi war he had taken command, instead of the previously bum of a leader.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he could hear the unspoken thoughts swirling in my mind. But then, he simply leaned back, the moment passing as quickly as a shadow on a sunny day.

"I imagined so", he sighed, "Captain, you know anything about art?"

"Uh... not much," I confessed, thrown off by the sudden swerve. "Never had the time, really."

"You ought to make the time." He nodded towards a section of his ceiling "War paintings, from around 600 years ago, before the Village's, before the Daimyos. Look how brutally war was depicted. Look at the shift here—after the land of wind was established. The lone man in desert, how heroic he looks. Over there—" he pointed to the left "—those are Yotaka Yamanaka works. You can see how the perspective on war changes after it's industrialization, after the villages, how clean it is."

"Yes, I see," I said, though I didn't, not really. "Sir, shouldn't we be focusing on—?"

"On what, captain? It's way past midnight. Your mission's a mess, but here you are. The second unit screwed up so bad, I had to throw in the third. And send their captain to join the Kirigakure's squad, chasing after some half-dead root agent who magically, somehow wound up with a medical-nin, a genin medical-nin with feet Jutsu. And can create doors on stone."

"What?"

"Exactly my thought.", he sighed, "but don't worry, how hard can it be to catch a lone genin on the woods?"