A special thank you to all my patrons.
The List of The "ANBU" Member:
-YoungPhxntom
-Abel Yapura
-Robert Thompson
-ar4ngel
-Jay Singh
-Cain
-Ta-Seti
-Ryan biggins
-Nithin Shajan
-Sergio Lukin
-Goha21
You can read 40 chapters ahead of everyone on p@treon.
P@TREON - p@treon.com/lessaservantofcosmos
(just replace the "@" with "a")
ps: Please support me on P@treon. I can really use your help!
-------------------------------------------------------------
Cough, cough.
In the center of Kumamoto's massive paw, an elderly man dressed in monk's robes lay weakly, his brows furrowed with fatigue. His face was etched with exhaustion, and his body bore minor injuries scattered across it.
Aizen looked at him, his gaze sharp and bright, as he spoke softly.
"We meet again, Bunpuku."
Hearing Aizen's words, the old man struggled to open his eyes. His murky gaze turned toward Aizen, and as he took in the face before him, memories from the past intertwined with the present, allowing him to recognize Aizen.
"It's you..."
His lips trembled slightly, his aged voice rasping weakly.
He remembered Aizen deeply, the young man who, years ago, had singlehandedly defeated countless Sand ninja guards and stormed into the Wind Altar. Back then, Bunpuku had tried to persuade the young man to let go of his bloodlust, but the boy had steadfastly continued his path, slaughtering all in his way.
The Wind Altar had been a scene of carnage, blood staining the cold and oppressive space.
The boy had stood before the seated monk, resolute in the face of his admonitions, and had spoken firmly, his voice unwavering
"This world is inherently flawed, neither truthful nor deceitful. The cycle of cause and effect is nothing more than the Buddha's way of deceiving the masses, offering solace to the powerless by affirming their existence."
At this, his eyes had narrowed slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips as he spoke softly.
"For those with enough power, there is no need for such affirmations. My existence here makes even the Buddha bow."
Those words had left a profound impression on Bunpuku.
Now, that terrifyingly determined youth had grown into a man, and the two of them had met again in such a manner.
Cough, cough. "I never thought we would meet again after all these years," Bunpuku said, his voice weak as he lay dying in Kumamoto's paw. "Have you come for Shukaku?"
Aizen's smile remained unchanged as he replied softly, "Naturally. Shukaku's power is of no use to you—it's a burden. Without it, you might not have ended up in such dire straits."
Hearing this, Bunpuku's body trembled slightly, as though overwhelmed by exhaustion. His cloudy eyes focused on a distant point. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice weary but steady.
"Shukaku isn't inherently evil. If someone could guide it, even as a tailed beast, it might coexist peacefully with humans. Purging the violence and bloodlust from a tailed beast's heart... That, I believe, is the true purpose of a Jinchūriki."
He looked at Aizen with a trace of hope.
But Aizen showed no interest in his expectations, replying softly, "I think you're mistaken, Bunpuku. From the very beginning, I've never believed that a tailed beast's savagery is something that should be eradicated."
His eyes gleamed as he continued.
"The existence of tailed beasts itself is irrational. To restrain them with human reasoning and tame them is merely a notion born from so-called ideals. What is there to fear from a beast stripped of its claws and fangs? It's nothing more than a plaything, reduced to a mere pet."
Bunpuku fell silent.
Having spent years alongside Shukaku, he was well aware of its violent nature but also the faint light of hope in its heart. He had tried to reform Shukaku through his actions and faith, and while he'd made some progress, Aizen's words now shook his convictions.
Perhaps it was the inevitability of death that led him to reflect deeply.
In his frailty, Bunpuku slowly closed his eyes.
He began to ponder whether he had always seen Shukaku as a feral beast. He had never considered what it would face if stripped of its violence and sharp claws.
His consciousness sank further into reflection.
Aizen watched as Bunpuku closed his eyes, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he gestured lightly and said softly, "Take him away."
Reluctantly, Kumamoto scooped Bunpuku up. With a puff of white smoke, the scene vanished.
---
Meanwhile, far away in Konoha...
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The sound of breaking air filled the quiet as countless shadows moved rapidly across an open field.
Sasori crouched low, his tail swaying behind him. In front of him lay the corpses of numerous ninja. Moments earlier, he had unleashed a barrage of poison needles, killing the Iwa shinobi before him.
Sasori regarded the aftermath as though it were nothing of note, turning his attention to the distance. His puppet Hiruko had performed well, shielding his true body and allowing him to unleash his puppetry techniques more freely. Still, there was room for improvement.
Under the pale moonlight, Sasori guided Hiruko forward, leaving behind a battlefield littered with bodies, their blood pooling in the cold night.
---
In another part of the forest, a group of Iwa and Suna shinobi stood trembling, terror etched on their faces as they witnessed a horrifying scene. Their expressions twisted in fear, their resolve broken.
The sight defied belief—this was supposed to be a suicide mission to ambush Konoha.
Shrrk.
A faint noise drew their eyes to a figure before them. In the moonlight, a fine white powder scattered into the air, gleaming eerily.
Gulp.
One frightened Iwa shinobi swallowed hard, his voice shaking.
"W-what is this... Is it genjutsu? What happened to those who charged ahead?"
A Suna shinobi beside him, drenched in sweat, whispered hoarsely.
"It's someone from Las Noches... But why are they attacking us? Isn't this against the agreement?"
Their words carried clearly in the oppressive silence.
Nearby, Barragan, having just finished off a group of ninja, sneered disdainfully as he glanced at the remaining forces.
"Ignorant humans," he scoffed. "As I've always said, weaklings like you can be slaughtered endlessly."
Though his gaze was dim with age, a sharp glint flickered in his eyes.
"As expected, my power is slowly returning... Aizen didn't deceive me. In that case, I shall aid him as best I can. But first, I must fully regain my strength."
With this resolve, Barragan cast a cold, indifferent look at the remaining shinobi. Behind him, dark smoke began to swirl ominously.