Flames crackled. Sparks danced. Kakuzu watched the coffin burn with something approaching joy.
Which was strange, really. He'd gotten his revenge forty-seven years ago—one slash across Sōryū's throat, problem solved. So why dig up the corpse now? Why this final desecration?
Because Kakuzu kept ledgers. Always had.
In his mind, every debt had a price. Every grudge had interest. The village elders sent him on a suicide mission to assassinate the First Hokage—fine, that was their call. He failed, came back alive, and they tried to execute him for it. So he broke out of prison, stole the forbidden Earth Grudge Fear technique, and slaughtered every elder in the village.
That was the principal debt, paid in full.
But the interest? Forty-seven years as a missing-nin. Sleeping in ditches. Eating cold rice. Dodging hunter-nin from every nation. Never staying in one place. Never having a home.
And then there was the technique itself.
Earth Grudge Fear granted immortality—swap out your hearts, live forever, simple. But it came with a cost the elders never mentioned: complete sterility. Hard to have kids when your entire body's been converted into animate thread.
One throat slash didn't cover that.
So here he was. Digging up bones. Burning what remained. Erasing Sōryū from existence.
The skeleton collapsed into ash. Kakuzu felt... nothing. No satisfaction. No closure. Just the cold certainty that the ledger was finally balanced.
Sanji grinned and formed seals. "Wind Release: Gale Palm!"
The gust hit like a hurricane. Ash exploded outward, dispersing into the forest. Within seconds, nothing remained but scorched earth.
"There." Kakuzu dusted off his hands. "Debt paid. Let's—"
"Master?" Sanji's voice was carefully casual. "Since we're here... shouldn't we collect some interest?"
Kakuzu paused. "What?"
Sanji pointed at the neighboring grave. The tombstone read: TOMB OF SECOND TAKIKAGE KŌRŌ.
"Just saying. We came all this way. Might as well make it worth the trip."
For a moment, Kakuzu actually considered it. Then he shook his head.
"One debt at a time, Sanji." Kakuzu's voice was firm. "Sōryū owed me. Kōrō didn't. He was actually a decent man—kept the village running, treated his people fairly. I taught you better than this. Debt collection targets the right person. You don't burn down a neighbor's house because you hate the guy next door."
Sanji blinked. "...Huh. Didn't know you had principles."
"I have standards." Kakuzu started walking. "There's a difference. Now come on. We've got a palace to loot."
The Takikage building's doors swung open.
Kakuzu immediately regretted having functional eyes.
"What the actual—"
Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers the size of wagons. Silk curtains that probably cost more than a jonin's annual salary. Peacock feather fans mounted on the walls like trophies. Agate screens carved with elaborate nature scenes. Even the stair railings were gold-plated.
"Holy shit," Kuroshi breathed. "It's like a brothel and a palace had a baby."
"It's obscene." Kakuzu's voice was flat. "This is what eighty thousand tenant farmers buy you. Blood and sweat converted into gold leaf." He turned to his troops. "Strip it. Everything. Chandeliers, curtains, railings—if it's not nailed down, seal it in a scroll. If it is nailed down, rip it up and seal it anyway."
The looting began immediately. Ninja swarmed through the building like ants, prying gems from walls and rolling up carpets.
Kuroshi approached, looking troubled. "Sir, I found the granary, treasury, and prison like you asked. But there's... problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"The granary's full—enough grain for half a year. But it's all been doused in tar. Completely inedible."
Kakuzu's eye twitched. "And the treasury?"
"Empty. Not a single coin. You could race horses in there."
"...The prison?"
"Everyone's dead. Executed in their cells. Bodies are already rotting."
Kakuzu absorbed this without expression. Of course. Scorched earth tactics. Deny the enemy everything useful.
"Sanji!" he barked. "Take the Fifth Squadron. Burn the prison. Last thing we need is a plague outbreak."
Kakuzu turned back to Kuroshi. "The grain doesn't matter. Daihi—get over here."
A lanky shinobi with wild eyes bounded over, a massive scroll strapped to his back. He moved like a caffeinated squirrel.
"Daihi's an idiot," Kakuzu said conversationally. "Mediocre ninjutsu. Questionable hygiene. But he's got one talent: spatial sealing. That scroll holds three months of rations for seven thousand troops. He brought three of them." He clapped Daihi on the shoulder. "Take Kuroshi to the granary. Dump the tar-soaked grain. Replace it with our supplies. Post guards. Daily rations distributed as needed."
"You got it, boss-man!" Daihi saluted sloppily and bounced off.
Kuroshi watched him go. "Is he... okay?"
"Define 'okay.'" Kakuzu scanned the room, watching his troops systematically strip the palace bare. "Now. The treasury."
"This building cost a fortune to decorate. But a village this size should have hundreds of millions in reserve funds. Emergency money. War chest. Something." His eyes narrowed. "So where is it?"
Daihi—who'd apparently not left yet—piped up: "Obviously the Takigakure ninja took it when they ran!"
Kakuzu and Kuroshi both stared at him.
"Daihi," Kakuzu said slowly. "If you're not using your brain, please donate it to someone who will. Why would refugees fleeing into the wilderness carry cash? Planning to buy wild berries from the monkeys?"
Daihi scratched his head sheepishly.
Kuroshi cleared his throat. "Could they have distributed it? Split the money among the civilians? Eighty thousand people, a few hundred million ryō... that's only about fifty thousand per person."
"No." Kakuzu's response was immediate. "Once you give money to poor people, you never get it back. And Takigakure's leadership knows that. This village runs on feudalism—the Takikage owns everything, the people own nothing. That's how it's always been." He smiled coldly. "They'd never scatter their wealth like that. Too risky. Too permanent."
Understanding dawned on Kuroshi's face.
"Exactly." Kakuzu's grin was predatory. "Somewhere in this village, there's a fortune waiting to be found. And we're going to tear this place apart until we find it." He raised his voice. "Listen up! New objective: treasure hunt! Search every building! Check floorboards, walls, ceilings! Dig up gardens! I want this village turned inside-out!"
A cheer went up from the troops.
"And remember—" Kakuzu's eye gleamed. "Ten percent finder's fee for whoever locates the stash. Now get digging!"
The shinobi scattered like excited children on an Easter egg hunt.
Kakuzu watched them go, satisfaction warming his chest.
This was why he loved his job.
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