Orochimaru’s Magic Lamp

No matter what anyone else thought, Hidan believed death was a beautiful thing.

Especially when it wasn't his death.

Thanks to the great Evil God's blessing, he was immortal. But what a shame—these people died too quickly. So fast, they couldn't even savor the joy of pain. Truly regretful.

Hidan removed his hand from his wounded side and licked the blood from his fingers. His purple eyes scanned the remaining nine Kusanagi ninjas, eventually locking onto the only surviving Jōnin.

Strong prey always scream the best.

"Why are you all hesitating? Keep going!" barked the Kusanagi squad captain, face tense. He hadn't expected that the samurai would be carrying so many explosive tags.

Losing a few Chunin was tolerable, but losing a Jōnin? That hurt. Those weren't easily replaced.

Still, the situation was in their favor. If they could take down the samurai leader, it would be a major victory.

The other Kusanagi quickly regrouped at his command and resumed their assault, leaving fresh wounds on their targets. Yet now they moved with more caution—no one wanted to be caught in another suicidal blast.

The enemy was nearly spent. It would be foolish to die at the hands of a dying man.

"Oi! You're just throwing wounded guys at me now? You think I'm not worth your time?" Hidan dodged a fireball and a flurry of explosive tags, then leapt to a tree branch, pointing directly at the squad leader.

"You! Fight me!"

What the hell is wrong with this guy? Even the Kusanagi captain hesitated. He'd already figured out this boy wasn't allied with the samurai, which was why he'd sent wounded subordinates to distract him. But now this lunatic dared to challenge him?

"I'll deal with you later," he growled, focusing back on the battle. The sooner he killed the samurai leader, the sooner he could stop worrying about the lunatic.

CLANG!

Steel rang out as his kunai met Shousuke's blade. He was no match in strength, but one of his men had slipped behind and launched a shuriken—aimed directly at Mifune, still slumped on the samurai's back.

"Bastard!" Shousuke growled. He heard the sound, calculated the angle, but the captain pressed forward, locking him in place.

"Don't worry about me," Mifune croaked suddenly. "If you do, you'll all die."

Shousuke froze. Then a wild light flared in his eyes. He stopped trying to dodge. With a roar, he drove power into his legs and arms, muscles bulging.

The shuriken sailed toward Mifune's back.

Almost simultaneously, Shousuke deflected the kunai and slashed downward with all his strength.

The Kusanagi captain retreated quickly—but not quickly enough. The blade tore a long gash across his chest.

Wincing, he retreated, tore open a pouch of medicine with his teeth, and slapped it onto the wound.

"Hiss... damn it," he spat. He'd underestimated his opponent. Who used their VIP as a meat shield?!

Still, he wasn't dead—and if they waited long enough, the samurai leader would bleed out.

Shff.

A rustle of cloth and wind—Hidan landed beside Shousuke with a crooked grin.

"Hey, Blackbeard Uncle, hand me that sword and I'll kill him for you."

"You!?"

Shousuke glared, beard bristling. He hadn't forgotten how much trouble this lunatic had caused them.

Hidan scoffed. "What? You looking down on me? Careful, I might kill you next."

On the other side of the battlefield, the Kusanagi captain watched the exchange—and noticed, to his horror, that Hidan had just killed another Chunin. In the blink of an eye.

One of his subordinates muttered in a panic, "He's a monster… you can't kill him."

Captain Kusanagi couldn't believe it, but Mifune, still clinging to life, gave a weak order:

"Shousuke… give him the sword."

"But—" Shousuke hesitated.

"That's an order."

Scowling, the samurai hurled the blade over.

"Not so fast!" the Kusanagi captain shouted. He didn't know what they were planning, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"Wind Style: Wind Cutter!"

Razor-sharp gales sliced through the air toward Hidan and Shousuke.

Shousuke leapt back, but Hidan didn't move at all. The wind blades hit him squarely, severing one of his arms in a clean arc.

"That idiot!" Shousuke cursed. "He got himself killed—and dragged us down with him!"

But—

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH—YESSSS!!"

The scream rang out not in agony, but in ecstasy.

Hidan's severed arm bled only a little. His face twisted with joy.

"This pain… it's delicious!"

He gripped the samurai blade in his remaining hand, licked the blood from the hilt, and etched a ritual circle at his feet.

"Ritual… complete."

"…What is this guy…?" the Kusanagi captain muttered, uneasy.

He raised his hands again. "Wind Style!"

His teammates followed up with shuriken and other jutsu.

Hidan made no move to defend. The wind blades sliced him in half. His back was riddled with weapons.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

"AHHHHH—SO GOOD!"

Two screams echoed together. But one was in pleasure.

Kusanagi's captain collapsed to the ground, his abdomen torn open, blood pouring out. No explanation. No logic.

Everyone stopped.

The battlefield fell into stunned silence.

"…Monster," someone whispered. No one disagreed.

Shff. Shff. Shff.

Suddenly, more figures dropped from the treetops—ninja wearing the Konoha forehead protector.

They paused, taken aback by the carnage.

But their leader quickly spotted Mifune, still on Shousuke's back, and rushed forward.

"I am Uchiha Shinsuke," he announced. "We received your distress call. We've come to assist."

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