The mists of Kirigakure were never silent.
They clung to every stone, every rooftop, every inch of sea that lapped against the island's edge. To the people born beneath them, the mist was life — and prison. It whispered in the streets, muffled laughter in the markets, and hid blades in its folds. For generations, the Hidden Mist had been a place of suspicion, a place where one never knew whether the person beside them was friend or assassin.
But tonight, the mist was not alive.
It was still, heavy, suffocating. As if the village itself held its breath.
High within the Mizukage's tower, the leader of Kirigakure sat alone.
Yagura Karatachi — the Fourth Mizukage. His body was small, deceptively fragile for one who ruled a village of killers. Silver hair fell around his young face, and his sharp eyes glimmered faintly with an unnatural light. The weight of a Tailed Beast sat inside him, coiled and restless. The Three-Tails, Isobu.
A hand pressed against the polished surface of the staff beside him, its rings clinking faintly. Yagura's gaze drifted to the mirror across the chamber. His reflection stared back, his own pale eyes glowing faintly with borrowed chakra. Behind that reflection, something darker stirred — a faint crimson glow, eyes not his own.
"Restless again?" he murmured to the beast within.
From deep inside, a guttural voice rumbled through his consciousness. *"You suppress me too often. The chains you wear are thin, child. They will break."*
Yagura's lips pressed together in silence. He had heard these words a thousand times. The beast tested him daily, waiting for weakness, for hesitation. He had never given it.
Until tonight.
The air shifted.
The candle flames guttered without wind. The mist outside his window thickened, turning the moon into a blur. A presence entered the chamber without sound, without door.
Yagura's fingers twitched toward his staff, but he froze. A spiral mask emerged from the shadows, single red eye glowing.
"Yagura," the voice spoke — calm, low, inevitable.
The Mizukage surged to his feet, chakra flaring. "Who dares—"
But the Sharingan caught him before the words left his lips.
The world shattered.
---
Yagura blinked and the room was gone.
He stood ankle-deep in an endless ocean of water, stretching into forever. A mist thicker than any fog he had known swirled around him. Above, the moon bled crimson, its reflection rippling across the waves.
The spiral-masked figure stood before him, the eye within spinning with lazy rhythm.
"This is your realm, Mizukage," the intruder said softly. "But it is mine now."
Yagura's teeth clenched. He thrust his staff forward, chakra surging. Water rose like spears, crashing down at the intruder's form.
But the man did not move. The spears dissolved before touching him, dissolving into nothingness.
The Sharingan spun.
"I am not here to fight. I am here to take."
Inside Yagura, the beast stirred violently. Isobu roared, voice shaking the sea itself.
*"No one takes what is mine. No one bends a Tailed Beast. Not Uchiha. Not gods. You will drown here."*
A tidal wave rose, higher than mountains, eyes glowing within it. The three crimson tomoe swirled in the mask's eye, twisting into a darker shape, sharper, colder. The Mangekyō.
The tidal wave froze.
The entire ocean froze.
Yagura fell to his knees, clutching his head as the pressure tore through his skull. The masked man stepped closer, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.
"You are strong. But strength alone is nothing before inevitability."
The moon cracked above them. The sea shattered like glass. And the genjutsu deepened.
---
Isobu roared again, its massive form rising behind Yagura. Spikes jutted from its shell, eyes burning with defiance.
*"Child! Do not bow. Fight him. Use me — use my power!"*
Yagura gasped, sweat pouring down his real body somewhere far away. He could feel his consciousness being dragged deeper into a labyrinth not of his own making.
But the Sharingan did not relent.
"You resist well. But every wall has cracks."
The crimson moon splintered, beams of red light spearing down. They pierced Yagura's form, each beam digging into his mind like hooks. He screamed as his vision blurred, his voice drowned by the endless eye staring into his soul.
Isobu lunged, chakra exploding, jaws opening wide to devour the masked man.
The man did not flinch. His Mangekyō spun — and with a snap, black chains erupted from the sea, wrapping around Isobu's limbs, its tail, its jaw. The beast thrashed, water mountains rising and collapsing. But the chains held.
The masked man's voice deepened, layered with echoes.
"You will serve. Both of you. Body and beast. Mizukage and Bijū. Together — as one puppet."
Yagura's vision blurred red. His staff slipped from numb fingers. And in the last moment, before the world collapsed into silence, he saw his reflection in the water's surface — and the Sharingan staring back at him from his own eyes.
The candle flames flared back to life.
Yagura sat still, his eyes blank for a heartbeat. Then he blinked, and the Sharingan glow faded from his irises, leaving only emptiness behind. His face smoothed into perfect obedience.
The masked man studied him silently.
"You are mine now. Through you… I hold Kirigakure. Through you… I hold the Three-Tails."
Yagura bowed his head. "As you command."
The figure in the spiral mask leaned closer, voice tightening like iron chains.
"You will continue as Mizukage. You will act as though nothing has changed. But when I whisper, you obey. When I command, you bow. And when I will it… you die."
There was no hesitation.
"Yes."
The masked man lingered a moment longer, then vanished back into the mist.
---
Morning broke. The village stirred. Fishermen cast their nets, children hurried through fog-shrouded streets to the academy, shinobi moved like ghosts to their assignments. To the people of Kirigakure, nothing had changed.
But in the Mizukage's chamber, a decree was being born that would drown them all.
Yagura stood before the assembled council. His young face was calm, expressionless, voice sharp as glass.
"The exams for our academy will change," he announced.
The room stirred. The elders leaned forward. Jonin exchanged wary glances.
"No longer will genin be measured by teamwork or written skill," Yagura continued. His voice did not rise, but the weight of it pressed down like steel. "From this day forward… they will prove themselves in battle. Against their own comrades. To the death."
A ripple of shock ran through the chamber.
One elder, wrinkled and gray, slammed his fist on the table. "Mizukage-sama! This—this is madness. Our children—"
Yagura's staff struck the floor, ringing like a blade unsheathed. The sound silenced the chamber instantly.
His eyes, pale and cold, fixed on the elder. "Those too weak to kill… do not deserve to be shinobi of the Mist."
The old man's mouth opened, then closed. His eyes dropped.
No one else spoke.
And thus, with a single command, the Bloody Mist was born anew.
---
Far from the village, on a cliff above the endless ocean, Zetsu rose from the stone like a shadow given voice.
White Zetsu chuckled, grin wide. "Heheh… smooth. One Kage, one Tailed Beast, and one village in your pocket. Not bad for a night's work."
Black Zetsu's tone dripped satisfaction, darker, sharper. "With Yagura as his puppet, Kirigakure's blood will flow exactly as planned. This land will become a crucible… a Mist of Death."
The masked man stood still, watching the horizon. His lone Sharingan glowed faintly behind the spiral mask.
"All thanks to Itachi." His voice was calm, but edged with irony. "If he hadn't seared Yagura with Amaterasu, this vessel would have resisted me longer. His fire opened the cracks… and I merely slipped inside."
White Zetsu gave a low whistle. "Heh. So the prodigy himself paved the road for you."
Black Zetsu chuckled. "Even the strongest fall when fate turns against them."
The masked man's voice dropped, sharp as frost. "Even geniuses are tools, if you know where to place them."
For a moment, silence. The sea crashed below, waves devouring the cliffs.
The mists below thickened, curling around the village, hiding its bloodstained destiny. And in the shadows above, the masked man prepared his next move — one puppet at a time.
---
**End of chapter 19**