"This is the Land of Waves?" Hidan scowled the moment he stepped off the boat. "I hate this place. Damp air. Rotting fish. Everything smells dead."
Fishing boats crowded the docks.
Nets hung from wooden frames.
Crates of seafood sat exposed beneath the sun.
For the locals, it was just another morning.
For Shinji and Hidan, it was torture.
Shinji lifted a hand, covering part of his nose.
"Finish the job fast," he said. "Then we leave."
Hidan didn't respond.
His gaze drifted across the pier, settling on anyone who lingered a second too long.
Violence coiled beneath his skin.
He had been restraining himself since boarding the boat.
Barely.
"Hold it together," Shinji added. "Find the contact first. After that, I don't care what you do."
They slipped into the backstreets.
Shinji stopped in front of a weathered wooden pillar.
Carved into its surface—
A circle.
A triangle within it.
The mark of the Jashin Cult.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
Inside, a young man slumped at a table, half-asleep.
He jolted upright.
"Who are you?!"
Shinji drew a pendant from beneath his collar.
Black metal.
Crimson engraving.
"Human suffering," Shinji said. "Eternal Jashin."
The young man froze.
His eyes flicked between the pendant and Shinji's face.
"You're… from the Cult?"
Shinji nodded.
"Take us to Mira Ryn."
The young man hesitated.
"Only the two of you?"
Steel flashed.
Hidan's kunai pressed against his throat.
"Ask another question," Hidan said flatly, "and you die."
A thin line of blood appeared.
The young man's face went pale.
"This way. Please."
He turned and walked.
He did not look back.
Glass shattered.
Porcelain exploded across the floor.
"Useless! All of you are useless!"
A middle-aged man stood at the center of a lavish room, breathing heavily.
Furniture lay overturned.
Fragments glittered across the ground.
Mira Ryn looked younger than his true age, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin.
He had wealth.
Influence.
Power.
None of it had saved his daughter.
Every night, the same images returned.
Steel flashing.
Blood spreading.
Her eyes, wide and empty as she fell.
"I don't care what it costs," Mira Ryn snarled. "If Gato hires a hundred killers, I'll hire a thousand."
A subordinate swallowed.
"Gato has allied with missing-nin and mercenaries. Some of the people we hire refuse to fight. Others defect. Many never come back."
Mira Ryn's fingers curled.
"And Konoha?"
"Most of our envoys were intercepted. Even if they arrived, Konoha rarely accepts assassination contracts. At best, they would send guards."
Mira Ryn slammed his fist into a shattered table.
"I don't want guards," he said quietly.
"I want Gato dead."
The door opened.
The young man stumbled inside.
"Lord Mira Ryn… the people you requested have arrived."
Mira Ryn lifted his head.
Two figures stepped forward.
Black cloaks.
Cold eyes.
Jashin Cult symbols resting against their chests.
They looked like executioners.
They looked like disaster.
Mira Ryn straightened.
"Bring them in."