Kakuzu's mood had been festering for days.
A competitor had surfaced in the black market—someone skilled enough to intercept his high-value bounties with irritating consistency. Every contract he'd identified, every lucrative target he'd marked, seemed to slip through his fingers at the last moment.
My heart bleeds, he thought coldly, but not from sentimentality. They're stealing my money. They're stealing my life.
He'd committed the name to memory: Silver-Faced Asura. Thirty million ryo on the bounty board. Worth investigating.
The routine was always the same. Exchange heads for ryo. Hunt the next target. Repeat. The life of a freelance mercenary was nothing if not predictable—a fact Kakuzu had grown to appreciate in his long, profitable existence.
"Kirigakure rebel ninja Mizuro," he muttered, comparing the severed head in his hand to the bounty notice. "Five million ryo. Cheap."
He severed the head with practiced efficiency and disposed of the corpse without ceremony.
The familiar electronic chime of his black market account accepting payment chimed in his ear. Five hundred ten thousand two. Business complete.
---
His next target was a Land of Grass nobleman named Shamon. Ten million ryo had been placed on the man's head—a respectable sum for work so effortless.
Kakuzu stood over the terrified noble, arms crossed, his expression utterly indifferent.
"Someone paid ten million ryo for your head," he said. "Got anything to say?"
The nobleman's face went pale. "You're... the immortal ninja? The one from the underground markets?"
"That's right."
"I'm willing to pay twenty million for my own head. Walk away, and we never speak of this again."
Kakuzu's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. My loyalty to money is absolute. If I haven't promised something yet, you should understand what that means.
"More," he said simply.
The nobleman's eyes widened. "Thirty million."
"Deal."
The transaction completed. Thirty million ryo—far above market rate for an ordinary nobleman's head. Kakuzu didn't hesitate. The payment chimed. Three hundred ten thousand two. Another victory for greed.
---
The next target was a rogue ninja skilled with explosive tags. Twenty million ryo. High-value work meant high-risk opposition.
For the first time in recent memory, Kakuzu missed.
The ninja fled with serious injuries, and Kakuzu gave chase through the terrain with methodical precision. His prey would not escape—not when there was money to be made. But as he closed in on the fleeing figure, something shifted in the air.
A wave of golden sand swept across the landscape like a tsunami of metal particles, engulfing the ninja and carrying him away.
By the time Kakuzu arrived, only gold dust remained on the ground. Fine, glittering, worthless.
Rage ignited—white-hot and absolute.
How dare they rob me.
Kakuzu crouched and grabbed a handful of the dust, examining it between his fingers with barely contained fury. The particles were artificial, cheap imitations of real gold. Insulting.
He threw it away.
Two interceptions. Two stolen contracts. Someone was deliberately taunting him.
The golden sand ninjutsu. That technique could only belong to one person in the entire shinobi world.
Rasa.
The Fourth Kazekage candidate. And according to his recent intelligence, Rasa was operating near this very black market.
Kakuzu's dark green eyes gleamed with something cruel. This grudge has been forged.
---
Meanwhile, in a town adjacent to the black market, Rasa's search had yielded nothing but frustration.
"Lord Rasa," one of his attendants ventured carefully, "as things stand, Pakura is either dead or long gone. Continuing this search is becoming risky. We've drawn attention. Many shinobi have noticed our presence."
It was true. What had begun as a discreet manhunt had become a conspicuous operation, and Rasa knew it.
He gritted his teeth, a flash of ruthlessness crossing his features. "One more day. If we find no trace of Pakura within twenty-four hours, we withdraw."
He didn't know how much trouble that decision would cost him.
---
Kakuzu returned to the black market mission office, his expression darker than a thundercloud.
"Rasa's location," he demanded of the operative at the desk. "I know he's near here. Tell me where."
The ninja behind the counter visibly paled. He'd never seen Kakuzu like this—genuinely furious in a way that transcended his usual cold pragmatism. Was he actually going to attack Rasa? But Rasa's bounty wasn't even particularly high, and he was a prime candidate for the next Kazekage seat. An assault would bring the entire Hidden Sand Village down on Kakuzu's head.
Then again, this was a man who'd fought alongside the First Hokage. An entire village probably didn't concern him much.
"Northeast forest," the operative stammered. "He headed that way about half an hour ago. You should be able to intercept him."
Kakuzu left without another word, his footsteps heavy with purpose.
The operative watched him go, then frowned in sudden confusion. Wait... Kakuzu was hunting Silver-Faced Asura. How did he end up chasing Rasa?
---
In the forest, Rasa's mood had deteriorated further.
"Where is he?" he muttered, frustration boiling over into anger. "How can he just vanish?"
His ambush had been perfect—no other shinobi within miles, the route confirmed clear. Pa should have had nowhere to run. Yet somehow, impossibly, the man had disappeared like smoke.
Space-time ninjutsu? The probability was low, but it would explain the anomaly. Rasa's mind worked through possibilities, narrow eyes calculating.
Then—a voice, cold as winter ice.
"Magnetic Desert. So you are here."
Rasa spun, his hand instinctively drifting toward his weapon. A figure in a black robe stood before him, eyes a strange shade of green, radiating an aura of barely contained violence.
"You're... Kakuzu. The immortal ninja from the black market."
Even Rasa, focused on his own mission, had heard the stories. A legendary mercenary who'd survived impossible odds.
"We don't have business," Rasa said, genuinely confused. "What do you want?"
Kakuzu's expression twisted with rage.
"You dare play ignorant? You stole my contract and now deny it?"