SFF: 074 - Propagation (Patreon)

Land of Waves

Jinrui Tanaka. 

Renowned shinobi, business tycoon and messiah to the people of the Land of Waves… 

Under that facade, Asuma wondered what he truly was. The monster’s mask had already begun to crack, and if one looked closely enough, one might begin to see the evil he truly was. Mr Tanaka’s involvement in the attack on Konoha—and subsequently, the Land of Fire—was irrefutable proof of his lack of humanity; no good man would willfully sponsor the massacre of innocents.

It sickened Asuma to walk amongst these people and hear praise—and only praise—for the man who had a hand in the destruction of his people. A foul emotion smouldered in his heart as he eavesdropped on a mother imploring her unruly toddler to offer offerings to the shrine erected in honour of the monster. 

Disgusted, Asuma shook his head before leaving the market for a deserted alleyway. The moon hung low over the port town like a judgmental eye casting its eerie gaze upon the twisted devotion that pervaded its narrow streets. It was in the dim light that Asuma made his way back to the brotherhood’s forward operating base within this accursed town.

“Brother,” intoned the sentry guarding the entrance to the casino that has been Asuma’s home for the past week. 

“Brother,” Asuma said in response, verifying his identity before entering the building.

Yūgen no Kazinoki was a discreet establishment. Beyond its entrance marked by a simple wooden signboard adorned with elegant calligraphy was opulence and allure concealed within. As Asume stepped through the sliding paper doors, he was enveloped in the thick scent of fragrant incense. The interior was populated by deep mahogany and rich silk, illuminated by the warm glow of flickering oil lamps. 

At the heart of the casino lay the main hall. Harlots swathed in red decadence glided over to the centre, swaying to the delicate rhythm of the shamisen playing in the background. Drums pounded, rattling the gelatinous meat between Asuma’s ears; his gaze passed over the gathered courtesans, their pliant backs arching like taut bows. Runnels of sweat ran between their breasts, squeezed together, spilling over from between the collars of their kimonos. 

Men sat idle on the mats all around. Some playing dice or shuffling cards; others slavering at the mouth as they eyed the dancers. The mien of the women, the sheen of their skin, and the flare of their thighs and tight buttocks… it distracted the gullible at the tables from the fact that they were unfairly being parted from their hard-earned coin. Asuma scoffed, looking away from the flood of corpulent breasts and flushed skin. Eyes searching, he manoeuvred his way through the distracted crowd of aristocrats and merchants with their oil-softened hands, well-mannered smiles, and diminutive phalluses. Raconteurs and tricksters, the lot of them.

Idiots.

A pimp clad in a dazzling kimono emerged from behind the richly painted partition screen to receive him, most likely deducing Asuma’s desire to see him. A fellow shinobi, Suzuki had been deployed here weeks ahead by Konoha’s intelligence to establish a more robust reconnaissance network in this quickly growing node of power. The man easily crossed the room, a cup of sake held lightly in his right hand as he gestured for Asuma to follow. The two entered a room and with a shallow nod, Asuma settled himself down before the shinobi, pulling out a scroll from his sleeve. In response, a slight smile found its way to the spymaster’s lips.

“It is time?” Suzuki asked.

Asuma nodded.

***

Much unlike the Prime Ego, Jinrui was an utterly patient being. He had been spawned from a more primordial fragment of the host: Ironically, despite his name, Jinrui was less human than even his progenitor was.  From the moment of his conception, he had two goals and two goals only. The first was to cultivate the 'seed'...

The second was to cultivate the Land of Waves.

As per the Prime’s directives, he had built up Wave as a tool—a cudgel—to be used against whatever opposition stood in their way. Konoha had offered itself on a silver platter to be made an example of; even now, the village appeared to have not learned anything from its previous altercation with them. Like rats, they scurried into Wave, infesting it.

Patiently, Jinrui watched as they erected their little nests and burrows, deluding themselves into believing they had somehow evaded his attention. Jinrui had been content in ignoring them. They neither served any purpose in his grand plan nor proved any real threats to said plans. What were they but mere rodents, scurrying beneath his notice?

Unfortunately, it appeared his inaction had emboldened them. The mice thought themselves lions, forgetting that neither truly mattered in the presence of singularity given form. 

And so, they sought to destroy his mortal expression. To break his conduit to this realm.

The gall… 

Jinrui laughed. With a smile he stepped out of his abode, disentangling himself from Tsunami’s lithe form, walking out into the cold evening with nought but loincloth wrapped around his waist.

“Why do you hide, little mice?” Jinrui asked an empty patch of space. “Do I frighten you?”

Asuma Sarutobi appeared with a derisive scoff. “Arrogant,” the child said. Behind him, seven other Shinobi manifested into existence, their expressions twisted with malice. 

Jinrui arched a brow. There was a nearly imperceptible blur and the next moment, the seven behind Asuma collapsed to the floor like puppets that had their strings cut. Instinctively, the Sarutobi leapt away from the midst of his colleagues, his eyes widening as he realised all that came with him were now dead. 

Beheaded. 

Jinrui stared at the panicking shinobi, bemused. In his hand, was a plain-looking tanto that Asuma quickly realised belonged to one of his “brothers”.

“You seemed confused,” Jinrui remarked. “I don’t blame you; most usually are...

"Unfortunately for you, unlike my master, I do not have a habit of toying with my prey.”