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The last thing Kakuzu remembered was Kakashi Hatake standing over him, giving some bullshit cliché speech about underestimation and the younger generation or… something like that. The sky was a clear blue and the chirps of the chidori were above him before all went to dust and echoes. Now though, he’d awoken on a day just as clear as his last, but standing in the calm waves of the ocean. How he got here, he wasn’t sure, but by looking around he wasn’t alone. There was a crazy amount of stark white humanoids behind him– wait, Zetsu?– and other randoms his memory isn’t registering right now. Things are a bit fuzzy.
But he does remember something as they look on towards the shore full of shinobi bracing themselves for the worst and picking a God to pray to.
Kakuzu remembers hardening his fist and smashing down the heavily fortified gate to the Fire Temple in a single strike. He and Hidan crossed through, the numbers of monks scattering in shock and awe at how only two mere, what they thought, “mortals” had broken their barrier so easily. As they huddled to the top of the steps, the man of the hour made himself present: Chiriku.
“Ah, a pious man?” Hidan asked, lightly swaying the massive scythe in his hand to and fro. Though he always carried such an aloof, bored expression on his face, Kakuzu could feel the excitement radiating off him.
“Not just pious. According to the bingo book he’s got quite the hefty price on his head.” Though concealed, Kakuzu spoke with a smile. “30 million ryo.”
Hidan turned his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “Now just hold on one fuckin’ minute, are we here to kill this guy for a bounty ? Do that shit and you’re gettin’ sent straight to hell, man.”
Kakuzu simply shrugged, chuckling lightly. “Money talks no matter where you go.”
And in their usual fashion, the duo proceeded to massacre the entire temple and then some, racking up a kill like Asuma Sarutobi when they finally made their way towards Konoha.
His memory, though still foggy, fondly remembers what would become their last few days together as he rips through the hearts of helpless, screaming shinobi around him. Hidan getting his head chopped off and scaring the daylights out of those Konoha nin was quite funny, looking back on it.
Taking the beating organ in hand and letting the inky threads of his body consume them, he looked around at the beachside. Bodies scattered on the ground, the lives of shinobi young and old getting torn away from them. The song of the field was a mixture of battle cries and harrowing screams, the waves crashing against the cliffs, and blasts of ninjutsu.
Hidan was right. Kakuzu was in hell, brought back to participate in a war he had not the slightest clue as to how even started or why he was needed in the first place.
He just wished he had Hidan along with him to enjoy it.