At the border of the Land of Fire lay a town too insignificant to even be named on a map, its air thick with the dry stench of dust mixed with livestock dung.
Kakuzu and Hidan sat in the corner of a dilapidated tavern. Their trail of the Two-Tails Jinchūriki, Yugito, had gone cold here.
"Fucking boring." Hidan propped his feet on the table and idly spun the Triple-Bladed Scythe in his hand. "The living people in this town aren't even worthy of being sacrificed to Lord Chaos God. Every last one of them looks half-dead."
Kakuzu said nothing. No change could be seen on the face hidden behind his mask, but his green eyes quietly swept across the entire tavern.
Something was off.
In this remote place, too out-of-the-way for even bandits to bother visiting, more than thirty ninja had arrived in just half a day. They had disguised themselves as merchants, wanderers, farmers, and all sorts of other people, but the faint chakra fluctuations around them and the deliberately suppressed killing intent were as conspicuous as bonfires in the night to a monster who had lived for nearly a century.
These people did not belong to the same faction. Their exchanged glances were full of wariness and hostility, yet they had one thing in common: their eyes would intentionally or unintentionally drift toward the corner where he and Hidan sat.
"Hidan, shut up," Kakuzu said, his voice low and impatient.
Just then, three ninja disguised as traveling merchants passed by their table. One of them cast a far too obvious glance their way, filled with greed and probing intent.
Hidan stopped moving.
He sharply turned his head, his crimson pupils locking onto that ninja. "Hey, trash. The way your eyes look really pisses me off."
The next second,