"A scare."
Those words left Chiya's mouth with a chill that seeped into the marrow, instantly sweeping away the sweltering heat of the desert afternoon.
Standing beside him, Sasuke watched his lord's unruffled expression and silently mourned for Gaara, whom they had yet to meet, for three seconds. Being targeted by Lord Chiya was far worse than being targeted by the Akatsuki. At least the Akatsuki went through the motions. Lord Chiya always went straight to flipping the table.
Before that, however, there was still one problem to solve.
In the middle of the desert, Kisame Hoshigaki finally recovered from the mental blow of Deidara blowing himself up and Hidan being buried alive.
His tiny, beady eyes fixed on Chiya. Samehada writhed restlessly in his hand, giving off a low hiss, as though he, too, sensed the danger posed by the black-clad youth before them.
"What a headache..."
Kisame grinned, revealing his trademark sharp teeth, and drove Samehada heavily into the sand. "That bastard Obito sure ran fast, leaving an honest man like me to deal with you. Mr. Itachi was right. Nothing in this world is less trustworthy than the Sharingan."
Despite his complaints, the violent chakra surging from his body kept rising. He showed no intention of backing down.
As one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, and the Akatsuki's most dedicated employee aside from Itachi, Kisame had his own pride.
If he could not escape, he would turn this desert into that brat's grave.
"I don't know how powerful that fire sword of yours is, but if it's fire, it has to fear water."
Kisame slammed his palms together, forming hand seals so quickly that only afterimages remained.
"This is a desert. The air is dry as hell." Sasuke frowned, his Sharingan locked on Kisame's