058 Reborn as the Third Kazekage

Hidan took the scroll from Arashi's hand. For a long moment, he said nothing. The flickering lantern inside the tent cast their shadows in shifting lengths on the walls.

"You're saying... I'm... one of Jashin's... immortals?"

"Yes."

"Jashin! Jashin! Jashin!"

Hidan muttered the name repeatedly under his breath. Then, suddenly, he clutched his head, a flood of broken memories crashing into him like a tidal wave. His mind felt like it was being torn apart as the gates of his past burst open, scene after scene replaying with terrifying clarity.

A group of black-robed men stormed into his home, their weapons gleaming under the firelight. His parents tried to stop them but were cut down, their bodies collapsing in pools of blood. He reached out, desperate to grasp their hands, but a black-robed man threw him over his shoulder. No matter how much he screamed, how much he fought, it was useless. All he could do was watch as his home was engulfed in flames…

Locked in a freezing, pitch-black cell, he huddled in a corner with other children his age, dressed in nothing but rags. They clung to each other, their teeth chattering uncontrollably. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies and despair.

A metal bowl clattered onto the floor, spilling rotten food. He scrambled forward, desperate, shoving a handful into his mouth. But before he could swallow, someone yanked his legs, dragging him back. Like a feral dog, he bit and clawed at the hands that tried to steal his meager meal…

He was strapped to a cross on an altar, arms and legs bound. A sea of black-robed figures knelt before him, chanting in a language he couldn't understand. Four other children—his cellmates—were tied up on their own crosses. A man in a purple robe approached with a gleaming knife, and without hesitation, he cut open the boy next to him. His insides spilled onto the ground like discarded offal…

The knife was raised high, its cold steel glinting ominously as it aimed for his heart…

"AAAHHH!"

Hidan let out a beastly howl, his eyes bloodshot, drool dripping from his lips as his body convulsed violently. His wounds, barely healed, tore open again, staining the bandages with fresh blood.

"You're about to go berserk! Iron Sand!"

Thick chains formed from black iron sand shot forward, wrapping tightly around Hidan's limbs. Arashi, worried he might bite his own tongue, ripped off his sand-protective scarf and shoved it into Hidan's mouth.

Did he just recall something painful? What now? Looks like I lifted the lid on this too soon. The kid's not ready for this. And I don't know any medical ninjutsu! This is clearly a psychological breakdown… what a pain.

"Foolish child, wake up at once!"

Arashi, mimicking the solemn grandeur of a wise monk from his past life's TV dramas, bellowed with all his might.

…Nothing happened.

Hidan kept thrashing, biting down so hard that blood seeped through the cloth in his mouth.

Maybe dance around and chant nonsense?

Sun sets in the west, black birds in the sky… Or should I just knock him out cold?

Just as Arashi was racking his brain for a solution, Tsunade stormed into the tent.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! Killing someone?! I could hear the screaming through the tent! Some of us have work tomorrow!"

Where am I?

Hidan sat up, looking around. It felt like he was back at Jashin's altar. Another version of himself was still tied to the cross, a dagger embedded in his chest.

Below the altar, a blue figure wove through the black-robed cultists with devastating precision. He struck like a whirlwind, cutting them down one by one. No one could stand against him.

It was his master! Hidan recognized him instantly. It was Arashi, the one who had saved him that day.

"This kid's still alive." That was Rasa's voice.

"Poor thing. Take him back. Be gentle with him." His master spoke as he watched the unconscious boy on the cross…

The scene changed. Now, a frail, starving Hidan was devouring food, while his master added a chicken leg to his bowl.

"Kid, you've got talent. Ever thought about learning ninjutsu from me?" His master grinned…

"Watch closely, I'm going to teach you a scythe technique today." His master moved like a storm, the three-bladed scythe dancing through the air like a dragon. Hidan stared, memorizing every motion, terrified of missing a single detail…

"To celebrate your graduation as official ninja, I'm treating everyone to hotpot!"

That was Hideki-sensei! The lid of the pot lifted, steam rising in thick waves, carrying the mouthwatering aroma of broth. Daichi wasted no time throwing in a plate of lamb, and Hidan followed suit…

"Damn it, Hidan! If you're gonna read my book, fine, but why'd you mess with my bookmark? Now I don't know where I left off!"

That was Lake Tsuki, scolding him while holding a thick novel…

"Move!"

Hideki pushed him aside, taking a sword strike meant for him…

"The so-called Will of Wind is the spirit of Sunagakure…"

That was political theory class at the academy. The teacher, Tokuma Shouji, was a lanky, bespectacled man with a kind face—though it was Hidan's least favorite subject. As expected, his past self was dozing off.

"What's the strongest force in the desert?" the teacher suddenly asked.

"Quicksand pits!"

"Wild wolves!"

"Rattlesnakes!"

Students eagerly shouted their answers.

"No, children. It's the wind! The desert wind! It grinds the toughest rock into sand. It scatters the tallest dunes overnight. It can caress your cheek like silk or turn into a black storm that swallows the sky. It has no form, no roots, yet it is everywhere, unstoppable.

"In this vast, barren land, only the wind survives without complaint, without compromise, never yielding—always fighting against the heavens!"

—

"Never yielding—always fighting against the heavens!"

The words struck something deep inside Hidan. A sharp pain shot through his head, then clarity washed over him.

"Yo, my foolish disciple, you're finally awake."

Arashi was sitting across from Tsunade, playing shogi. When he noticed Hidan stirring, he quickly swiped the board, scattering the pieces.

"Hey! You can't just cheat like that! I was—"

"You won, you won, alright?" Arashi grinned as Tsunade pouted.

"You feeling better? Stop overthinking, or you'll drive yourself insane."

"Yes, Master. My mind was a mess."

Arashi sighed. "I debated whether to give you that scroll. This technique might only work for you. I never expected Jashin's cult to have left such deep scars. Maybe I should just destroy it."

Hidan stopped him. "Master, I despise Jashin's cult... but if I'm the only one who can use this, wouldn't destroying it be a waste?"

He stood and bowed deeply. "Master, thank you."

Arashi awkwardly patted his shoulder.

"Sunagakure gave me a home. I won't let anyone take it away. Even if I have to shed my blood, break my bones—I will fight to protect it!"

Arashi pulled him into a tight embrace. "You foolish child…"

Tsunade wiped away a tear. What a speech.

"I don't need you to break yourself, kid. I need you to be Sunagakure's war chariot. Our unstoppable force!"

He placed a shogi piece in Hidan's hand—the 'chariot.'

Hidan clutched it tightly and nodded.

Tsunade sighed. "So that's where my missing piece went…"