Work Text:
“Unsatisfactory.”
Jigen gazes down quietly at the body sprawled out before him. The recipient of his cyclical rebirth, the divine shell designed to house his spirit for the next indeterminate millenia.
“Completely unsatisfactory.” he turns to Victor, who seems brooding. “After three months, this is all you have to offer?”
“It would appear.” Victor says through gritted teeth. “That the facilities available to me are insufficient for this project. Please forgive me.”
The empty vessel groans drily from its tube. Mostly human still, the majority of the body has been eaten up by the lopsided Karma on the palm. Hideous fleshy growths jab out from its spine, ankles, ribs. The chakra pathways it possesses are a similar mess. Jigen feels no connection to it.
He puts his fingers to his temple thoughtfully.
Although Victor has been an invaluable resource for the past four or so years, bringing Kara to its feet as Jigen advances his timeline, it’s clear this particular task requires something Victor purely lacks.
It’s not resources, as Victor claims. Nor is it time and patience. After all, the man has painstakingly regrown massive vital organs. For human standards, his company is capable of incredible feats.
The Karma is simply not one of them.
Outside of Victor’s laboratory, harsh wind blows. There have been several hurricane warnings over the past few days. The few employees maintaining the building’s front begin to worry over their commutes home.
Inside, the steady drone of machinery begins to give Jigen’s mild human form a headache.
“I would hate to terminate our working relationship over this, Victor.” Jigen says. “But my patience wears thin. After all these years, even I am fallible. This,” he gestures again to the body, “is not what I have been waiting for.”
Victor sits in silence for a moment, jaw tensing and untensing. Then he sighs.
“You’re right, of course, Lord Jigen.” he says, sitting back. “Maybe I’m not the right person to head this project. I know when I’ve been beat.”
Jigen remains quiet.
“I’m happy to continue to support Kara in any way I can, of course.” Victor hurries to amend. “But even by my standards, what you’re asking is…” Incapable of summoning a polite enough word to mind, he trails off.
Jigen rises to his feet. He feels his time profoundly wasted with every breath Victor takes.
“I will acquire my vessel, one way or another.” he says coldly. “If you can’t do it, find someone who can.”
As Jigen reaches the door, Victor stops grinding his teeth.
“There is one person,” he says. Jigen turns.
With a displeased grimace, Victor continues, “He’s notoriously unreasonable, but his work…it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.”
Jigen walks back over, past the body, which has finally stopped trying to move.
“Who?”
-
As Jigen has observed, although it’s fear that keeps people in line, it’s greed that draws them to you in the first place. Their own disparaging self interests keep Kara in motion, blind to Jigen’s reality.
To say he thinks little of the human psyche is an understatement.
But it’s why he always believes in conducting important business face to face. It impresses some conviction on his part into the softer minds.
The man Victor had recommended, Amado Sanzu, was not easy to find. It would have been nigh impossible for most, in fact. Kara’s spy network, although developing, is still sharper and faster than most. Amado Sanzu is here, in Amegakure.
Specifically, a small compound on the very edge of the village, right against the lake. It’s an area that has gone mostly unnoticed, especially after the dissolution of the Akatsuki left the village in a power vacuum. It seemingly attracts struggling and unfavorable characters in droves.
Jigen crosses the street silently. It’s early in the evening, cloudy and miserably cold. The address he has been given is inside of a relatively self contained semicircle, sectioned off by an iron gate that presumably used to shut completely before the hinges on one side were bashed in.
Inside, buildings stem out from the center in a little labyrinth. The standout feature is what may have once been a temple, clustered tackily between more industrial structures. Other than that, most buildings look dejected and abandoned.
He steps inside a bar, finding it relatively inhabited. Still dripping with rain from outside, he deigns not to remove even his hood, earning him a couple suspicious looks.
“I hope you can assist me.” he says to the hapless employee behind the counter. “I am looking for this address.”
He slides a piece of paper on the counter. The bartender looks at it, then scoffs.
“You and everyone else.” he rolls his eyes. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Kazuma call in foreign reinforcements, or what? No way he’s that much trouble.”
Jigen stares coldly.
“...anyway, s’just right across the street from the temple.” the bartender continues, mildly daunted. “Big warehouse. Can’t miss it.”
Jigen nods. “Thank you.”
-
A man, presumably Amado Sanzu, makes his way down the street, shielding an unobtrusive bundle from the rain. He has cloudy glasses and his facial hair leaves a grizzled impression, but nothing striking.
As he passes a darkened alleyway, a rough hand reaches out and grabs him. He resists just enough to remain on his two feet, face to face with the perpetrator.
“Oi, what’s the rush?” the thug says. He has a slightly dented nose. As he talks, a couple more people come out from the shadows to crowd Amado. “We came by knocking earlier, but no one was home. Got errands to run?”
“Something like that.” Amado mutters, barely audible over the wind. Then, a little louder, “is there something I can help you with, Kosuke?”
“Don’t play dumb. You’re twenty grand in debt.” the thug sneers. “For the past two months. Pay up.”
“I told your boss I would have it by the end of the week.”
“And he ain’t buying it. Sent us here to remind you it’s in your best interests not to play with the Umuishi Gang.”
“I assure you-” Amado is cut off by a jarring punch to the face, delivered by Kosuke himself.
“No more talking.” Kosuke says, and hits him again. “We’re all sick of your talking. You know what really talks? Money talks.”
The package is ripped from Amado’s hands and thrown to the ground. A couple vials roll out. One shatters.
“Your money.” he says through gritted teeth, “will be ready in three days.”
“Tomorrow night.” Kosuke says. “It’ll be ready tomorrow night.”
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“The agreement is whatever we say it is.” Kosuke scoffs. “You know why? We have the power here. You’re a washed up psycho. You’re only alive ‘cause of the boss’ generosity. Do you want to be living in the gutters with the rest of the rejects?” he leans down. “Or would you rather skip the living part?”
Amado stares him down. From the angle, it’s hard to see, but whatever his expression is lacking, Kosuke doesn’t like it. He hits him again, firmly across the head, knocking him sideways. His face smashes into the sidewalk, and his glasses skid away into the street.
“See you tomorrow night, Amado.” he sneers one more time, then walks away, entourage drifting after him.
Amado props himself up slowly. The rain thunders down even heavier. He reaches for the vials, grabbing at the broken glass. There's a faint amount of blood mixed into the pools of water, lying on top of the dirt.
Jigen watches quietly from the roof of the temple. After a breath, he moves.
At the sound of Jigen’s approaching footsteps, Amado offers him a sideways glance, then resumes repackaging the vials.
Jigen bends down into the street and picks up his glasses. One of the arms is caved in. He carefully straightens it back out.
“Amado Sanzu?” he says, bringing the glasses out in front of him in a polite offer. Amado narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“In the flesh.” he responds drily. He takes the glasses. “Thank you.”
Jigen inclines his head.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“I would consider it mutually beneficial.” Jigen says. “I have a job I need completed. I was referred to you.”
“Whoever referred you is an idiot.” Amado informs him. He finishes assembling his vials and brings himself to his feet. “I don’t work for anybody anymore.”
“So I’ve heard.” Jigen says. “I’m prepared to make an offer you can’t refuse.”
Amado snorts. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“But not from me.” Jigen says. He selects one of the vials from Amado’s arms and begins to inspect it. It’s a luminescent blue fluid, nothing identifiable to him. “I can’t reveal too much information about my organization until you’ve accepted the job, but I assure you, money is no object at all.” he holds the vial still in front of his face, half obscuring his vision. “Pick a price, and it’s yours.”
“What’s the catch?”
Jigen curves his mouth. “Only that what I’m asking is impossible.”
Amado’s eyes flick over Jigen’s face, gauging him. Jigen lets the challenge sit comfortably. To his credit, Amado doesn’t look remotely daunted. Rather, stern and calculating. Blood trickles from a small cut over his eyebrow.
“If you had reached me a couple months ago, I’m sure I would have accepted.” Amado sighs. “But I’m not that desperate. By tomorrow, all of this will be over.” he takes the vial from Jigen’s hand. Jigen relinquishes it calmly.
“Is that so?”
“In one way or another.” Amado says ominously. He takes a couple steps back, and inclines his head respectfully. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Jigen smiles.
“Not at all.”
-
It seems to rain harder than ever that night, leaving the following morning surprisingly pleasant. From Jigen’s vantage point, within the temple, the skies even part slightly, showing a clear, early sun.
He observes the streets faintly. A few boarded up windows crack slightly open to invite this phenomena, and some businesses even prop open their doors, suddenly awash with righteousness. The warehouse Amado had entered last night stays firmly shut.
There’s only one window, at the very top, which seems remarkably broken. Jigen marks this as an entry point.
Not so subtly, someone enters the temple. Jigen, standing ominously in the rafters, turns to look down.
The intruder stands silently, and drops to her knees when Jigen appears before her.
“Lord Jigen.” she says, head bowed deep.
“Speak.”
“The group in the south has yielded nothing, but there’s a new crop of rumors in the north. An entire village suffering from plague was miraculously cured after visits from one man. It seems like it’s the same man who restored that blight in Kusa a few years ago.”
“Is that all?”
“This time, people are whispering that he is a descendant of the Otsutsuki. A demigod come to Earth.”
“How miraculous.” Jigen says. “Take half your men from the south and divert them here. Find out everything you can about him.”
“As you wish, Lord Jigen.”
“And if the investigation yields nothing,” Jigen continues, “get rid of him. We can’t have anyone slandering the Otsutsuki name, now, can we?”
“As you wish, Lord Jigen.”
Jigen stands there in silence a moment longer, considering. The woman remains obediently on the floor. It’s clear she wants to move from this oppressive space, but she doesn’t, waiting on Jigen’s word.
A light wind blows through, kicking up dust. This temple has probably been abandoned since the last Shinobi Wars.
“Tell Victor that I will return by tomorrow.” Jigen says at last. “I expect him to have the lab ready for our new guest. There shouldn’t be any clutter or …leftovers. We must make a good impression.”
“As you wish, Lord Jigen.”
Jigen smiles to himself.
“Dismissed.”
Once the woman has retreated, Jigen makes his way out onto the street. Still cutting a suspicious character in all black, with his hood pulled low on his face, he leans against the temple wall, perfectly content in the fresh air. The warehouse door across the street remains locked tight.
A couple of civilians walk past, holding bags close to their chests. They pass Jigen with covert avoidance of eye contact, seasoned professionals at the sort of danger the figure poses.
From the warehouse, there is a loud boom. It sounds like something metal being dropped or slammed with incredible force. The civilians jump.
“!!” the woman exclaims. “What was that?”
“Who knows.” the man grumbles. “That guy is at it again.”
“What’s he even doing in there?” the woman says.
“Who knows? I heard maybe he’s making some sort of weapon. He used to do work for the Akatsuki, you know. Behind the scenes.”
“I thought he worked for the Kyujo Syndicate?”
“Well he did, until he got fired for human experimentation or something. There’s no way a guy like that wasn’t working for Akatsuki.”
“I hope it’s just a weapon. My sister-in-law said she saw him behind the cemetery last week, like he was looking for something.” the woman shivers. “What a psycho.”
The man nods his agreement sagely. As the two of them squint at the warehouse, the door slowly slides open. The woman makes an involuntary jump, grabbing the man.
Amado stands in the doorway, mostly shadowed. The same cut on his face from last night remains, dried and untouched. It’s hard to tell if anything else is awry.
There’s a delivery boy on his doorstep, previously unnoticed by the couple. He hands Amado a bag, and Amado hands him a small handful of coins.
“Thank you.” he says politely. The delivery boy just turns on his heel.
“I’m surprised he has money to give away with Kazuma after him.” the man mutters harshly. The woman shakes her head.
Amado doesn’t seem to have heard them, but with impeccable timing, he looks over anyway, impassively. The couple quickly scurries away.
It appears even when locking himself away from the world to his work, Amado has arranged for meals to be brought to him. There’s a sound logic there that will do well in Jigen’s employ, he thinks. Method in the madness.
Amado’s gaze lingers, picking out Jigen’s silhouette from the shadows. He narrows his eyes. Jigen tilts his head slightly, meeting his gaze from under his hood.
He smiles to himself again as Amado slides the door shut.
-
That night, Jigen watches comfortably from the temple roof as a group of thugs, headed by the Kosuke character from the night before, slam down the door to Amado’s warehouse with some sloppy ninjutsu.
He waits a few minutes after that, not sensing any signs of a scuffle, before dropping down and entering himself.
The doorway leads to a darkened corridor, which from there opens into the bulk of the warehouse, presumably what Amado has been habitating. There’s a cot in the corner and a lamp, but other than that, no personal affects.
The space is littered with machines, machine parts, and oddly enough what looks like body parts as well; a hand spliced neatly down the middle to reveal smooth circuitry, a handful of floating eyes.
Most surprising is the center of the warehouse, cut off from the rest of the workspace. The centerpiece is a large capsule, reminiscent of a coffin. Interestingly, it is wide open, and Amado kneels in front of it.
His pose is much similar to the previous night, but without any resistance or consciousness. Without seeing his face or hearing a sound from his mouth, Jigen gets the impression of distinct despair.
He stares unmovingly up at the capsule, where a small girl is sitting. There are tools, scraps, pieces next to him. A pencil. A framed photograph.
Jigen steps forward, past the unconscious intruders from earlier. His approach yields no reaction, even as he reaches out.
There’s some sort of electric field surrounding the center of the warehouse. As soon as Jigen makes contact, it jolts him with millions of volts, certainly enough to knock a person unconscious or dead.
Jigen laughs to himself. Full of surprises, isn’t this Amado?
He passes through the field unhindered. Standing behind Amado, they jointly regard the girl.
She has a very cold, antagonistic face.
“So this is your work.” Jigen says. Amado doesn’t even startle.
“Very lifelike.” Jigen says. “I’m impressed.”
“She’s alive.” Amado corrects wanly. He’s no longer looking at the girl at all. In fact, his head begins to hang firmly to the floor, like he can’t bear the sight any longer.
Jigen picks up the photograph frame, lying on the floor next to Amado. Amado does not react or move at all.
“So that’s it.” Jigen says aloud.
The face in the photo and the face of the girl are perfectly, exactly identical. The same blonde hair, the same pale blue eyes, the same round, cherubic features. The sole difference is the expression. In the photo, she is smiling, with dimpled cheeks and a certain light to her. The girl in the capsule has nothing of the sort.
“She was,” Amado says quietly, “a very kind girl. Maybe overly sensitive. I don’t know where she got that from.”
Jigen sets the photo back down. Amado continues, uninterrupted.
“Even at her sickest, she never cried. She believed I could cure her. Of course, that’s what I told her, every single day. What else is a father supposed to say?” he laughs harshly, without an ounce of mirth. “That there’s nothing I can do?”
His voice catches. He raises a shaking hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. He looks absolutely unkempt, a man on the verge.
“Work for me.” Jigen says.
Amado doesn’t dignify that with a response.
“I can bring her back. Completely. Exactly as she was, in the prime of her health. Untouched.”
“Impossible.”
“Look at me.” Jigen commands.
The man doesn’t move.
“Amado Sanzu, look at me.”
Jigen moves in front of Amado. He does not kneel to meet him, but he raises his chin with his hand.
“Is it not your deepest, most desperate dream? If you abandon her now, you abandon her forever." he speaks softly, but firmly, eyes boring into Amado’s. "At every point until now, you have done something thought impossible. The onus of reality does not bind men like us. It moves for us.”
“My plan would see a world free from this futile suffering. I only need a body with which to bind my full power. I cannot achieve this with ordinary men, who close their eyes to possibility. I need your mind, Amado. I need your dedication. And in return, I will see to it that your dream is fulfilled.”
He releases Amado. He knows, immediately, that he has won at least the beginning of his loyalty, because there is movement in his face. He can see the gears turning, judging, appraising Jigen’s claims. In direct contrast to his despondence, his mind has opened again.
“I’ll allow you time to consider,” he says, turning unhurriedly. “I will return at this time tomorrow. I expect your answer then.”
He begins to walk.
“Wait.” Amado says, after he has taken one step.
Jigen looks over his shoulder.
“There’s no need. I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you need me to.” he says, risen to his feet plaintively. “Just-please, you promise you can revive my daughter?”
Jigen faces him, with a serious, open face. Amado’s eyes flicker, searching his.
“I swear it.”
“...” Amado says. “Alright. I accept your offer.”
He is a smart man. He still does not seem completely certain. He still has absolutely no reason to believe Jigen’s words. He only has what Jigen has once again given him; renewed desperation. Also known as hope.
Jigen smiles thinly.
“I look forward to doing business with you.”