Vizem
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Chapter 89 - A Debt Paid in Years
🕑 Added 2025-08-13 10:40:34 +0000 UTCThe world exploded into motion before I could even register what hit me. Wind cutting at my ears while everything spun into a blur of pain and confusion.
For a moment, I didn’t understand.
I felt rather than heard the sickening crack as my body smashed through the thick ice wall of my own domain. The sound echoed through my bones, a symphony of destruction that my addled mind couldn't quite process.
What….. just happened?
My mind scrambled to catch up as I hurtled through the night air, trees rushing up to meet me with alarming speed. Right—jounin. Facing a jinchuriki. My struggling brain supplied. It also reminded me of something else.
The safety measures I'd built into the Frozen Domain jutsu.
Because of course I'd put in a failsafe. The technique's biggest flaw was losing connection the moment I stopped feeding chakra to the central formation, but that also meant I could trigger a controlled collapse if things went sideways. Which they very clearly had.
I managed to form a concentration seal with one hand just before my face introduced itself to the forest floor.
My body didn't stop there—oh no, that would have been too merciful. Instead, I kept tumbling and skipping across the ground like the world's most violent game of hopscotch, trees splintering and exploding around as my momentum carried me forward.
Until I met a boulder that had clearly been placed there by some sadistic god who enjoyed watching people suffer.
The impact drove every molecule of air from my lungs, and consciousness flickered out. When awareness crept back a few seconds later, I realized I had no idea how to breathe anymore. My diaphragm had apparently gone on strike, leaving me gasping like a fish on dry land.
I crawled out of the rubble, panic setting in as my lungs refused to cooperate. My fist hammered against my chest in desperate rhythm until finally—finally—air wheezed back into my body. The coughing fit that followed felt like luxury.
"Fuck," I gasped between hacks. "Fucking hell. Goddamn fucking—"
I slumped against the boulder, my vision swimming in a red haze while drums pounded in my ears. Who the hell was drumming at a time like this?
I was afraid to move. Afraid to find out exactly how many bones were broken or whether I was even still technically alive. The complete absence of sensation throughout my body wasn't exactly reassuring.
Looking back toward the battle, I could see my ice domain collapsing in spectacular fashion. Massive chunks of frozen architecture crashed down in an avalanche—the safety measure I'd activated to bury whoever had forced my hand.
Would it be enough to take out a jinchuriki?
I hoped it would, but…..
No. No, it would not.
I raised my hand to wipe the red veil from my vision, pausing when I spotted the green fabric still wrapped around my wrist. My mind started to drift, remembering softer things, warmer places—
Focus. You have a jinchuriki problem. How do you fix it?
The Eight Gates seemed like the closest I had to an answer, especially with my chakra reserves running on fumes. But could I even manage it in my current state? The Gates were something I'd be reluctant to use even at full strength, and right now I felt like I'd been put through a meat grinder twice over.
Even if I could open them, I'd be lucky to manage two gates before my body gave out completely. And Lady Luck had clearly abandoned my ass for someone with better facial structure—it sure as hell wasn't for someone with a better dick, because nobody had me beat in that department.
I choked out a laugh that tasted like blood and dirt. No, the Eight Gates weren't the solution here.
If I wanted to win this, I only had one option left.
I wet my hand with blood from my forehead—there was plenty to spare—and forced my less responsive arm through a series of hand seals before slapping the ground with more exhaustion than technique. My chakra drained again, and I could feel every drop being pulled away. When your reserves were this low, you became hypersensitive to every expenditure.
A puff of smoke cleared to reveal a small red panda with a cane and an elaborate mustache that hung down in two long tendrils from his upper lip. The cute, wise little creature looked around with judgmental eyes before fixing his gaze on me.
I managed a pained smile. "Hi, Shifu."
Those judgmental eyes immediately turned into a scowl, and when he spoke, his voice carried the refined coldness of disappointed authority. "I am aware that humans possess a regrettable tendency toward forgetfulness, but some individuals seem determined to elevate it into an art form of pure irritation." His tone grew sharper. "How many times must I explicitly forbid you from summoning me?"
"I wouldn't have," I said, trying to settle into a more comfortable position against the boulder, "but circumstances kind of forced my hand here."
Shifu huffed and looked toward the crumbling ice dome, where chunks of frozen death were being hurled outward by increasingly malicious chakra.
"The Three-Tails," he said, stroking his mustache with the practiced motion of wise masters everywhere. The recognition was immediate and certain.
"Yeah, well," I adjusted my position again, trying to ignore the way pain started singing through my nervous system as adrenaline faded, "I could really use some backup right about now. You know, team effort, shared responsibility, that whole thing?"
Shifu turned to look at me slowly, his gaze growing more uncomfortable with each passing second until even my battered state couldn't ignore the weight of his disapproval.
"No."
I groaned. "You can't be—"
"I can be, and I will be," he cut me off, his voice rising with anger. "You create consequences and expect others to clean up your messes. You never attempt to fix your own mistakes; simply demand that others deal with them for you. Selfish, greedy, and utterly without wisdom."
"Hey now," I muttered, "you make me sound like some kind of Sakura. All I did was form other summoning contracts."
Shifu sighed, his expression shifting to something like pity. "The fool who plants weeds in every garden wonders why no flowers bloom. The man who breaks every bridge questions why he stands alone on his island."
I was getting more than annoyed now. "Then why didn't you just scrape my name off your summoning list if you're so pissed about it?"
Shifu opened his mouth to respond, then paused as the jinchuriki's rage intensified. More ice and debris flew through the air, accompanied by roars that made the ground tremble. The oppressive chakra reached us even at this distance.
"That decision," he said after the pause, "is not mine to make."
"Come on, Shifu.” I sighed, letting some of my charm seep into my voice. “I'm kind of dying here, and not in the fun way."
"Do NOT call me Shifu!" he shouted, his composure cracking. "How many times must I tell you?” He sighed. “Time seems to have come for you to learn that actions do have consequences."
I wanted to roll my eyes, but the bastard disappeared in another puff of smoke.
"Son of a bitch," I swore, letting my head fall back against the stone. "How am I supposed to learn about consequences if I'm fucking dead?"
I sighed, staring up at the night sky through blurry vision. I'd never met a jealous girlfriend who could match the spite of that furry little asshole.
"Fuck me running," I muttered to no one in particular.
My frustrations ground to a halt as bone-chilling roars intensified, the malevolent chakra thickening the air until it felt almost visible—like breathing through molten hatred. The Three-Tails wasn't just pissed; it was apocalyptic.
Maybe, I thought, if I played dead, the overgrown turtle would forget about little old me and go find someone else to use as a stress ball. The thought almost made me laugh—seemed like blood loss was turning me into an optimist fool.
And even if by some miracle, it worked, the Three Tails’ rage needed to be felt by the world. It rampage would not spare the small fishing town close by.
I may live with a lot of blood in my hands, but a full town of innocent civilians……
That’s a lot of blood, I’ll drown in it.
Senjutsu….. Senjutsu was my only way out. With that red panda bastard ditching my sorry ass, I only had one other summon that might help. And honestly? I'd rather deal with literal devils than Shifu's holier-than-thou cliche lecture bullshit.
I cursed the furry asshole again under my breath. All I'd done was form other summoning contracts—hell, even if I hadn't formed any contracts after Momiji Sanctuary and their ridiculously unfair tests, he'd still be throwing a tantrum. The judgmental prick had been pissy since day one because I already had other summoning partners before I ever signed with his precious sanctuary.
My hands shook as I forced them through another series of seals, each movement sending lightning through my nervous system. I slammed my palm against the ground, feeling what little chakra I had left drain more.
When the smoke cleared, there was nothing.
Then an owl hooted from the branch of a tilted tree—one that hadn't quite given up and fallen over yet. She was normal-sized, normal-shaped; everything about her screamed ordinary. Except for the intelligence in those amber eyes. Aouru was anything but.
"Usually I'd ask if you've gotten more radiant since our last chat," I wheezed, trying to inject some of my trademark charm into my voice despite feeling like hammered shit, "but as you can see, I'm not exactly in a position to appreciate feminine beauty right now."
Aouru hooted—a sound somehow loaded with smugness and old news.
It didn’t make sense, but I understand it.
"I'm sure you do," I said, wiping blood from the corner of my mouth, "but I'd really appreciate your help here."
Another hoot, this one carrying the tone of a loan shark discussing interest rates.
"Come on, can't you make an exception this one time?" My voice cracked slightly. "I only ever call on you, not any of those other feathered accountants and grave robbers."
She hooted again, and I could practically hear the eye roll.
"Well, two times is two times too many," I shot back, then clicked my tongue in frustration. “ DO you think me immortal?“
My eyes drifted to the melting remains of my Frozen Domain—ice chunks sliding down like the world's most depressing snow cone. "Fuck. Can't you just not be a heartless bitch for once? I need five—no, seven minutes."
That should be enough. I hoped it would be enough.
Aouru's response made my blood pressure spike.
"Seventeen years?!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the trees. "That's as much as I've fucking lived! Stop screwing around!"
Her follow-up hoot was decidedly unimpressed.
“Fuck it.“ I forced myself to calm down, looked away from those calculating amber eyes, and let resignation settle into my voice like lead. "You can go. I don’t need your help anymore. I'm a shinobi—if I have to die, better it's in the field than withering away in some retirement home, pissing myself and forgetting my own name."
Aouru went silent for a long moment before hooting again.
I didn't answer, just focused on getting to my feet. Every muscle screamed in protest, bones grinding against places they had no business being. My vision swam with each movement, black spots dancing at the edges like mocking specters. The simple act of standing felt like climbing a mountain made of broken glass.
My legs shook, threatening to dump me back on my ass. Blood dripped steadily from my forehead, each drop hitting the ground with a sound that seemed too loud in the sudden quiet.
Another hoot. Ten years.
I ignored her, focusing on staying upright. The best way to haggle was to appear completely uninterested—at least, that's what I prayed. If this didn't work...
She hooted again, softer this time.
I didn't answer her question, just grabbed a handful of soldier pills from my pouch and shoved them into my mouth. The bitter taste made me gag, but I forced them down. Was my haggling tactic working? Honestly, I couldn't tell with how fucked up I was. I was running on instinct now.
Aouru hooted once more and flapped her wings, gliding gracefully to my shoulder. Her claws bit spitefully into my flesh, but with the symphony of pain already dancing through my body, I barely registered it.
“Three years of my life for such an elegant lady?“ I smiled, or I think it was a smile. "How lucky must I be."
Aouru ruffled her feathers—practically preening at the compliment.
It wasn't ideal, but it was all I had. I wasn't a sage yet, just a student who'd gotten his ass kicked out of training. The red panda fucker had me dismissed from Momiji Sanctuary right as I got the sensing part done.
Meanwhile, Meigetsu Hermitage had rules against teaching senjutsu to outsiders, and the owl contractors had turned it into a fucking industry. Like devils, they dealt in years instead of souls.
Still, for the price, Aouru would do most of the heavy lifting. Unlike Shifu—and yes, that wasn't his real name, the pretentious asshole—owls from Meigetsu Hermitage specialized in funneling nature chakra into their partners — read victim. They were built for this kind of work.
Built to drain your life away, one transaction at a time.
It was an odd thing, getting years taken from your lifespan. It wasn’t unpleasant, well rationally it was, but it was like my soul was being pulled through my stomach and out my feet.
Three years of my life flowing away.
Then came the nature chakra, flooding in like liquid lightning guided by Aouru's expertise. She was a professional at this, or so she claimed, regulating the flow so I wouldn't turn into a statue or sprout a beak.
My eyes burned first. The pain was exquisite—like someone was carving new pathways into my brain with a hot knife. I felt my pupils expanding, contracting, reshaping themselves. When the burning finally stopped, the world exploded into crystal clarity.
Then came the facial lines—cold fire racing down from my eyes like frozen tears. The sensation was both numbing and electric, as if ice was being etched directly into my bones. My temples prickled as crescent marks bloomed there, and I felt my hair shifting, growing longer with each heartbeat.
But it was the senses that growl.
The world became a symphony of information.
I was familiar with animal senses thanks to my wolf transformation mastery. But this was in another level.
I could hear heartbeats from miles away, smell fear-sweat and blood on the wind, feel the vibrations of every footstep through the ground. My awareness expanded beyond my body until I existed everywhere and nowhere at once.
It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Like being handed the keys to godhood while drunk off my ass. It was hard to keep it together.
With my chakra reserves running on nothing but fumes and borrowed time, staying sane felt like trying to hold water in a net. Aouru could keep my body from turning to stone, but she couldn't protect my mind from the raw, primal hunger that came with this much power.
A power that wanted nothing but to be released.
I grinned at the chakra-red-cloaked figure that had appeared before me—when had Yagura gotten here? My mind struggled to piece together the timeline, but thinking felt like swimming through molasses. We had something in common now, both of us riding the edge of madness.
"Thanks for waiting," I thought, or did I say the words out loud? Can’t tell anymore.
Yagura had barely spoken a word when he was sane—no surprise he'd be just as eloquent when the Three-Tails was driving. He exploded forward without preamble.
But this time, I could see him. Track every movement. My body moved to match his impossible speed as two crimson arms of fire materialized around me. In sage mode, I didn't need the jutsu's usual framework—the power just was.
We collided with the sound of a mountain falling. Trees were twigs; they didn't just break—they disintegrated. The shockwave carved a perfect circle of destruction around, earth and stone liquefying under the pressure. The forest screamed as ancient oaks were reduced to splinters and sawdust.
What followed wasn't a fight—it was a demolition. Two drunk idiots swinging haymakers with the force of natural disasters. No technique, no strategy, just pure animal violence. More grace could be found in back-alley bar brawls than this.
My fire arms swung wildly, leaving trails of superheated air that set everything they passed ablaze. Yagura's claws raked gouges in the earth deep enough to bury buildings. We crashed through what remained of the treeline, our momentum carrying us toward the shoreline like runaway meteors.
The destruction followed us, reshaping the landscape with indifferent brutality. Cliffs crumbled into the sea. Beach became crater became underwater canyon as we hammered each other with mindless fury. The ocean boiled where our attacks missed their marks.
Somewhere in the tiny sliver of consciousness I had left, I knew this had to end quickly. I was running out of time. My drunk brain latched onto the one thing that had worked before.
Rasengan.
The spinning orb of chakra formed in my palm, and I slammed it into the red bastard's face. His roar was satisfying—annoying too. So I made another one. And another. Slap punching them.
I tried using the fire arms to form some, but the unstable chakra destroyed the constructs before they could stabilize. Fine. Fire hands for punching and clawing, real hands for Rasengan after Rasengan after Rasengan.
At some point, the red fucker stopped roaring. A moment later, he stopped being so red and so annoying.
But that was just a trick. The turtle wanted to fool me. He thought I was stupid. He wanted me to stop so he could burrow away through the earth. He wanted to flee to the village. To attack the village. I wouldn't be fooled. Not the village.
So I kept punching. Kept slamming Rasengan after Rasengan into the ground. Into its borrow. Expanding the crater deeper and wider, not letting the coward escape into his shell.
I didn't stop even as my vision blurred at the edges, my expanded senses beginning to dim.
I gained awareness at a repeated squishy and wet sound.
It was the wet thud of my bloodied fists hammering into mud and stone.
I stopped or tried to when I realized I was the one making that sound. It took several attempts to remember how to tell my arms to quit moving. My brain had forgotten the command codes.
Looking around with bleary confusion, my neck felt too light, my body numb and distant. I was standing in a giant crater, seawater beginning to pool at the crater's bottom, still several feet below. Dark, glistening lumps bobbed in the rising water—oddly shaped. Oh, someone had dropped a bag of their overripe plums. Strange place for a fruit stand.
"Where am I—" I started to ask, then stopped. "Where's the Mizukage?"
An owl hooted somewhere. Following the sound, my gaze landed on more of those red things floating in the rising water. I blinked at them, recognition dancing just out of reach.
"Are those... entrails?" I asked aloud, then paused. "What the fuck are entrails?"
My mind was still waking up, pieces clicking back into place one by one. When it finally did, I swore and looked at the red chunks again.
Oh….. Those weren't plums.
Rasengan really did make a mess of things.
That was my last coherent thought before my brain decided it had seen enough shit for one day and promptly clocked out.
— — — — — — —
A/N: Hi guys! The mission arc is finally over!
I rushed this chapter intentionally (could be turned into at least 3 chapters with usual pacing), but my sense of pacing is a bit skewed, and many seem not to like this mission, or rather took too long, so….. Let me know if it felt off.
Comments
Istan T
You could’ve just made the fight chapters longer instead of dragging them over too many. I wouldn’t mind waiting if we got some great fight scenes and solid worldbuilding.
Istan T
I enjoyed the last part more, with the anbu and the Mizukage, you developed Eishin more here, I like what you built, with him knows senjutsu and tried exploring other summoning methods. now I just wanna see how he’s gonna report the mission after all this.
Cup of Happy
I enjoyed this but it did feel that this arc took way too long
