Zabuza's eyes narrowed as the red-robed figure vanished into the twisted building.
For a moment, he hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back. But he had never backed down from danger. With a strange smile, he followed the priest into the darkness.
The temple's interior was even creepier than its outside. And the air was thick with the smell of salt and rot. He caught glimpses of shadows out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned to look, they vanished.
The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of his own breathing and the occasional drip of water.
As he crept deeper, his senses picked up on subtle details that only heightened his unease. Strange symbols on the walls depicted creatures that were a nightmarish mix of fish and man.
Small shrines in alcoves held offerings of seaweed and what looked disturbingly like human bones.
But the priest was nowhere to be seen, lost in the labyrinthine depths of the structure. He pressed on, his hand never far from his sword.
The corridors twisted and turned in impossible ways, defying logic. More than once, he found himself in rooms that shouldn't have existed, given the temple's size.
In one such chamber, he found a stone tablet covered in an alien script. The characters seemed to squirm as he looked at them, making his eyes water.
At the center was a carving of a monstrous, tentacled creature rising from the sea. Zabuza committed the image to memory, sensing its importance.
----------
After what felt like hours of navigating twisting corridors, he emerged back into the sickly light of day.
The temple had deposited him on the far side of the village, and he found himself facing a scene of eerie abandonment.
The village itself was a study in contradictions. Many houses showed signs of recent renovation – fresh paint, sturdy new doors, even metal fixtures that spoke of sudden prosperity.
But the streets were deserted, an unnatural silence hanging over the entire settlement.
Zabuza moved cautiously through the empty streets, his senses on high alert. As he passed by houses, he noticed disturbing details that hinted at the villagers' fate. A half-eaten meal left to rot on a table.
A child's toy abandoned in the middle of the road. And everywhere, those same strange symbols he had seen in the temple, etched into doorframes and scratched onto walls.
In one house, he stumbled upon a hidden shrine tucked away in a back room. The altar was stained with what he hoped was animal blood, and a strange, misshapen idol sat at its center.
His lip curled in disgust, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the idol's eyes were watching him as he backed out of the room.
He quickly sketched the idol's form in his notebook, adding it to his growing list of observations.
As he continued his exploration, the silence was occasionally broken by distant, unidentifiable sounds.
A large splash.
A low, rumbling cry that seemed to come from deep within the earth. Each time, Zabuza felt strange.
It was near the edge of the village, where the houses gave way to the rocky shoreline, that he finally came across another living person.
An old man sat hunched on a large rock, surrounded by empty sake bottles. Even from a distance, he could smell the stench of alcohol and unwashed bodies.
Approaching cautiously, Zabuza called out, "Hey there!"
The old man didn't respond right away, taking another long swig from his bottle before turning to face the Mist shinobi.
His face was weathered and lined, his beard unkempt, and his gray hair matted. He wore a pair of battered glasses that gave him an oddly scholarly look.
"I'm new here," Zabuza said, trying to sound friendly. "My name's Taro. What's yours?"
The old man's eyes were dull and bloodshot, but they still had a spark of awareness. He belched loudly before answering, "Tazuna."
Zabuza sat down on a nearby rock, positioning himself to block Tazuna's easiest escape route. "Mind if I join you? It's been a long day, and I could use a drink and some company."
Tazuna grunted, but didn't object when Zabuza helped himself to one of the unopened bottles. They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out at the sea.
"This island is really strange," Zabuza said casually, breaking the silence. "I've never seen anything like it."
Tazuna's shoulders tensed up. "You shouldn't have come here," he muttered. "No one should come here anymore."
Zabuza leaned in. "Why can't people come here?"
The old man shook his head violently. "No, no, I can't... they'll hear. They always hear."
"Who will hear?" Zabuza pressed, trying to sound concerned. "Are you in trouble? Maybe I can help."
Tazuna laughed bitterly. "Help? No one can help. It's too late for that. Too late for all of us."
Zabuza put a comforting hand on Tazuna's shoulder, feeling the old man flinch at the touch. "Come on, it can't be that bad. Why don't you tell me what's going on? Sometimes talking about it can help."
For a long moment, the Tazuna was silent, and Zabuza thought he might have pushed too hard.
Then, fueled by alcohol and a desperate need to unburden himself, the old man began to speak.
"It all started two months ago," he slurred, gesturing wildly with his bottle. "When he came to the island. Everything changed after that. Everything!"
"Who came?" Zabuza asked gently, even as his mind raced. Could this be Kojiro?
"A stranger," Tazuna said. "Called himself Dagon. Said he could make the island prosperous beyond our wildest dreams."
Zabuza nodded encouragingly. "And did he?"
Tazuna's eyes darted nervously around as if he feared being overheard. "Oh yes, he did. He... he killed the daimyo."
"Just... just reached into the water and pulled out more fish than our best fishermen could catch in a month."
"And gold! Literal gold from the sea!"
"That's incredible," Zabuza said, his voice filled with awe. "That's a good thing, isn't it? But why are you so scared?"
Tazuna shook his head. "No, no, you don't understand. The price... the price was too high."
"What price?" Zabuza leaned in closer, his voice soft and sympathetic.
"Those who wouldn't convert," Tazuna's voice cracked as he spoke, tears forming in his eyes. "They... they were sacrificed. To the things in the sea."
Zabuza's eyes widened in shock. "Sacrificed? You mean... killed?"
Tazuna nodded miserably. "Kaiza... he was one of the first. He tried to stand up to them. And they... they..."
The old man broke down sobbing. Zabuza patted his back awkwardly, trying to process this information. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Tazuna-san," he said softly.
"Your son sounds like he was very brave."
Tazuna nodded, wiping his eyes. "He was a hero. And they fed him to that... that monster."
"Monster?" Zabuza prompted gently.
"I saw it," Tazuna said, his voice breaking. "Saw that... that thing rise up out of the water and... and..." He broke off, unable to continue, and took another long drink.
The Mist shinobi waited patiently, knowing that pushing too hard now could shut Tazuna down completely. After a few moments, the old man continued.
"The sacrifices didn't stop with Kaiza. Every month, they send more people into the sea. Young ones, mostly. Along with those carved things they make."
"Carved things?" Zabuza asked, thinking of the strange idol he had seen earlier.
Tazuna nodded. "Little statues. Ugly things. They say it's to honor the sea gods, but I know better. It's to feed them. To keep them happy so they'll keep providing."
Zabuza asked, "Providing what?"
"Fish. Gold. Pearls as big as your fist." Tazuna laughed bitterly. "Oh, we're prosperous now, alright. Rich beyond our wildest dreams. And all it cost us was our souls."
Zabuza let out a low whistle. "That's... that's a lot to take in, Tazuna-san. I can see why you're drinking."
Tazuna raised his bottle in a mock salute. "Only way to keep the dreams away. To forget what I've seen."
"What have you seen?" Zabuza asked, unable to keep a note of eagerness from his voice.
Tazuna's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you want to know? Who are you really, Taro?"
Zabuza raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Just a traveler, I swear. But I've seen things since I arrived here."
"Things I can't explain. Hearing your story... well, it helps to know I'm not alone."
The suspicion in Tazuna's eyes faded, replaced by understanding. "You've seen them, haven't you? The changed ones?"
Zabuza nodded slowly. "I... I think so. People who don't look quite right. Like they're not entirely human anymore."
"They're not," Tazuna's face twisted in a grimace. "The longer they worship that false god, the more they change."
"They can talk to the things in the sea now. Even breed with them."
Zabuza couldn't hide his disgust. "Breed? You mean..."
Tazuna nodded. "Hybrids. Not human, not... whatever those sea things are. Something in between. They say the children can breathe underwater, live forever if they stay in the sea."
"That's impossible," Zabuza blurted.
"Is it?" Tazuna challenged. "After everything you've seen? Everything I've told you?"
He leaned in close, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Have you heard of Cthulhu? Of R'lyeh?"
Zabuza shook his head.
"Pray you never do," Tazuna said. "This island... it's just the beginning. That man, Dagon, he's opened a door. And now the Old Ones are stirring."
Zabuza's eyes widened in confusion. "The Old Ones?"
"Ancient gods. Monsters from the depths of time and space. They slumber now, but when they wake..." Tazuna shuddered, his eyes haunted. "The world as we know it will end."
Zabuza was silent for a long moment, processing everything he had heard.
"What can be done?" he asked finally.
Tazuna laughed bitterly. "Done? Nothing can be done. It's too late for that. Too late for all of us."
"There must be something," Zabuza pressed. "Some way to stop this Dagon, to close the door he's opened."
Tazuna's headshake was slow and deliberate. "The only escape is death. Or..."
His eyes lit up with a manic gleam. "Or to join them. To embrace the change and become one with the sea."
Before Zabuza could respond, Tazuna's eyes fixed on something over his shoulder, widening in terror.
"They've seen us," he whispered, his voice trembling. "They know!"
Zabuza spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his transformed sword.
But the sea behind him was calm, the waves gently lapping at the shore.
There was nothing there.
Or was there?
When he turned back, Tazuna was already on his feet, stumbling away with a speed that didn't match his drunken state.
"Run for your life!" he yelled over his shoulder. "I've seen them! They've seen us!"
----------
Zabuza stood there for a long moment.
Part of him wanted to dismiss it all as the ravings of a drunk and the superstitions of isolated islanders.
But he couldn't shake the memory of that red-robed priest's inhuman face.
The strange symbols carved into the walls of the temple.
The abandoned village with its hidden shrines and bloodstained altars.
And then there was the question that had been nagging him: what did all of this have to do with Kojiro?
Was he this 'Dagon' that Tazuna spoke of?
Or was he just another victim of whatever had taken hold of this island?
Sighing, Zabuza turned and headed back towards the village.
He had a cult to infiltrate, a missing-nin to find, and the source of these monstrous transformations to uncover.