74. A Startling Turn Amid the Mist

This was the first time Kisame had seen Tsunade so humble and self-effacing. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “On second thought, that thing isn’t much use to me. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll keep the necklace for now, and when we finish shooting this film, I’ll return it to you for free. But until then, stop pestering me every day. That’s my condition.”

“…Fine, it’s a deal,” Tsunade agreed reluctantly. After all, she really had no way to handle Kisame, and could only trust him this once.

Filming began.

“You can’t even protect a single woman, and you still think you can protect this beach?” Kisame stood atop the back of a shark, looking down at Prince Fuji, who knelt on the shore, and delivered this mocking line.

Then, as the director instructed, he flashed a wicked smile and pulled Tsunade into his embrace.

Tsunade let out a startled cry and instinctively struggled, but in doing so only ended up pressed even closer against Kisame.

Suddenly, at such close range, she found herself looking at his chiseled profile, breathing in the masculine scent of him, and for some inexplicable reason, her cheeks flushed.

A woman in her thirties—an age when desire quietly stirs—no matter how restrained, cannot always suppress the restlessness within.

“Could you not squirm so much?” Kisame was dissatisfied with Tsunade’s performance, suspecting she was deliberately refusing to cooperate.

“Cut!” Director Yamamoto shouted through his megaphone, then guided Tsunade, “Lady Tsunade, you can’t blush! That ruins the mood. You should be weeping in sorrow, calling out your lover’s name with great emotion!”

After all, this was meant to be a poignant and pure romance, not some cuckold drama. There were no wronged husbands or blonde interlopers here.

So, they had to shoot the scene again.

This time, Tsunade’s acting barely passed.

“Your Highness, thank you for your hard work,” Director Yamamoto personally helped Prince Fuji up from the ground after filming wrapped.

Prince Fuji’s gaze was dark as he watched Kisame’s back leaving the set. He had no choice but to finish this film, become a silver screen star, and prove himself to his father. Otherwise, he’d be forced to return home and inherit a fortune worth billions.

For that reason, no matter how much Kisame irritated him, he could only endure for now.

Time flew by like a fleeting steed.

Half a month passed in this way.

That evening, after the crew wrapped up, night had already fallen, cloaking the earth in darkness. Kisame was walking home when he suddenly heard a soft hissing sound from a nearby alley.

Following the noise, he saw a short figure, barely a meter tall, wearing a cloak and a conical hat, leap out of the darkness to block his path.

It was Hozuki Mangetsu.

“What are you doing here?” Kisame asked.

Mangetsu peered out of the alley, glancing left and right to make sure no one was around. Then, from beneath his cloak, two soft little hands emerged and lifted off his enormous triangular hat, revealing the true form of a white slime with two eyes and a wide mouth.

In an anxious rush, he blurted out, “Boss, something terrible has happened! There’s been a disaster in the village! The Third Mizukage… he’s dead!”

Oh?

Kisame’s brows furrowed, and he made a downward gesture with his hand. “Calm down, tell me everything, slowly.”

“Here’s what happened…” Mangetsu hurriedly recounted the events of the past half month to Kisame.

As it turned out, the Third Mizukage had been acting strangely ever since he returned to the village. He vanished for several days, and no one knew where he’d gone. When he finally reappeared, he was gravely wounded and beyond saving; within two days, he died in his sickbed.

Kisame fell silent in thought. He suspected the Third Mizukage had discovered he was being controlled by the Sharingan, traced the clues to Uchiha Madara, and, unable to match him, was killed by Madara’s hand.

In the original story, neither the time nor the cause of the Mizukage’s death was ever explained; he simply vanished without a word.

Now, it seemed almost certain that Uchiha Madara was responsible.

With that in mind, Kisame looked at Mangetsu and said meaningfully, “Even if the Third Mizukage was your teacher, you’d best not look any further into his death. Pretend nothing happened. Otherwise, you might end up dead yourself. Do you understand?”

“I… I understand,” Mangetsu replied with a shudder, the fluid of his body rippling like waves.

“What’s the situation in the village now?” Kisame paused for a moment before asking again.

From Mangetsu, he quickly learned that Elder Gensho had taken charge, kept the news of the Third Mizukage’s death secret, and only released word among the upper echelons of Kirigakure that the Third’s health had failed and he planned to abdicate soon.

In other words, Kirigakure now needed a new Fourth Mizukage.

With the news, all sorts of undercurrents began to stir.

Currently, Hoshigaki Fuguki, Yagura Karatachi, and the wielder of the dual swords Hiramekarei from the Hozuki clan had all joined the race for the position.

Based on this information and his memories of the original story, Kisame quickly analyzed the situation. If nothing unexpected happened, it was most likely that Yagura Karatachi would become the Fourth Mizukage.

Yagura was an exceptionally talented ninja; the fact he became a perfect Jinchuriki was evidence enough. Moreover, the Karatachi clan behind him was a powerful family deeply rooted in Kirigakure. His appearance and personality were also far more popular in the village than the other contenders.

These three advantages were why Yagura would almost certainly take the position.

However, the struggle for the title of Fourth Mizukage was bound to be a bloody one. Many lives would likely be lost.

For Kirigakure, the only fortunate thing was that their village lay isolated overseas, far from the central conflicts of the ninja world, and had a relatively low profile. Even if their leader died and the village fell into chaos, it was unlikely other villages would mount a major invasion—after all, for any ninja village, mounting a seaborne assault on Kirigakure would be far too costly.

All things considered, Kisame felt it was a blessing he hadn’t returned with the others to Kirigakure and didn’t have to get involved in the chaotic struggle for Fourth Mizukage. By the time he finished filming here in the seaside town—another two or three months—the turmoil in the village would likely have settled.

After processing all this information, he continued, “There’s one more thing.” Kisame squatted down, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Mangetsu, who was only an arm’s length away, and asked in a slow, heavy voice, “Where is Hiramekarei, the dual sword you promised me?”

“Uh, well…” At this, Mangetsu jolted, lifted his small hands defensively, and suddenly—with a “thud”—threw himself to the ground, kneeling.

“Boss, I failed! Not only was I caught trying to steal the sword, but I was almost killed for it. The only reason I’m still alive is because the other party took pity on me as clan kin. Boohoo…” Mangetsu sobbed and pleaded miserably, “I had no choice, I really did my best…”

Only, when his “tears” hit the ground, they quietly seeped back into his body—self-recycling at its finest.