"You're probably thinking, 'This is a really bad idea.'"
— Deadpool
--
When Otis and Yuki entered the chamber quietly and closed the door behind them, the Daimyō of the Land of Grass slept peacefully, completely unaware of how close he was to death.
The room itself was simple.
Too simple for a man with as much blood on his hands as this one.
Otis didn't wake him.
He surveyed the chamber slowly, then moved toward the large study desk near the window. That was the only thing that stood out.
He approached it without a sound.
Stacks of papers were spread across the surface. Reports. Financial records. Movement logs. Experiment summaries.
Otis skimmed through them quickly, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion creeping into his bones.
Hidden Grass Village.
Bloodline subjects.
Uzumaki compatibility tests.
Resource allocation.
Disappearances explained away as bandit attacks.
Otis read in silence, his jaw tightening with every line.
It was all there.
Not just fragments, but detailed records of what had been happening in the Hidden Grass Village. More than Otis had even witnessed himself. And it all traced back years, stretching into the period before the Second Shinobi War.
So you weren't just aware, he thought. You were proud of all this.
Otis searched the rest of the room carefully. Cabinets. Drawers. Hidden compartments.
Nothing useful.
No master ledger.
No names above the Daimyō.
No proof of who was truly funding everything.
Just a fat man signing orders and letting others do the cutting.
No, Otis thought. It can't be this simple.
There was too much work for one man. The number of deaths, the scale of what was being done, this Daimyō didn't have the capability to handle it all. This level of experimentation could not be carried out by one man alone. Too much money. Too many resources. Too many connections.
Too much work for one coward.
There were accomplices.
Otis straightened slowly.
But one thing was clear.
This man was behind most of what had happened in the Hidden Grass Village. Even if the true backers remained hidden, he was still the Daimyō of the Land of Grass. The one who signed the orders. The one who allowed it all to happen.
Before Otis could think further, the Daimyō stirred.
The man groaned softly, rolled onto his side, and opened his eyes.
He blinked, irritation flickering across his face.
"What idiot dares…"
Then he froze.
His eyes widened so violently it looked as if they might burst from their sockets. His body locked up, breath caught in his throat.
Otis was standing right in front of him.
The Daimyō sucked in a sharp breath.
Otis turned his head slightly.
"Good morning," he said calmly.
Then Otis removed his mask and set it aside. He pulled a chair closer and sat down across from the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, his chin propped in his hand, like a man waiting for a late appointment.
For a second, the Daimyō just stared…
Then he screamed.
"GUARDS! SHINOBI! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
He screamed until his throat hurt.
Nothing answered… no footsteps, no shouts, and no alarms.
Otis watched him quietly, like a man observing an animal that did not yet understand it was already dead.
After a few seconds, Otis tilted his head slightly.
"…You done?" he asked.
The Daimyō's breath hitched. He swallowed hard, sweat already pouring down his face.
"W-Who—"
"There's no one coming," Otis said, cutting him off. "They're all asleep. Same as you were."
The Daimyō's eyes darted wildly around the room. He forced his breathing to steady, lifting his chin as he tried to reclaim a fragment of his authority. Now that he could see Otis clearly, recognition hit him.
This was the man.
The man who fit every description.
The man responsible for everything that had gone wrong.
"Do you know who I am?" the Daimyō snapped, panic bleeding into anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Otis's eyes hardened.
"I only want one answer," he said, cutting him off again. "Who funded the experiments in the Hidden Grass Village?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the Daimyo stopped breathing properly.
Fear replaced arrogance instantly.
"Y-You don't understand," the Daimyō said hoarsely. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. There is nowhere in this world you can hide from them. If they decide you're a problem, you're already dead."
Otis exhaled through his nose.
"Possibly," he said. "But right now, I'm the problem."
He leaned forward slightly, releasing just a hint of pressure.
"If you surrender now and accept your crimes," Otis said evenly, "there's a version of this where you stay alive."
The Daimyō shook his head violently.
"You might as well kill me now. If I say anything, I'm dead anyway."
Otis stared at him for a long moment...
Then he sighed.
"…Yuki."
The floor shook.
Then the wall exploded inward, wood splintering as stone cracked, and the door behind them simply ceased to exist. A massive white bear forced its way into the chamber, its fur brushing the ceiling, eyes glowing faintly in the low light.
The room suddenly felt very small.
The Daimyō's soul left his body.
Every hair on him stood straight as sweat poured from places sweat should not exist.
Yuki stepped forward slowly…
Her fur rippled as she moved, the torn fabric of her cape fluttering behind her, dragging against the floor.
Otis gestured casually. "Eat him."
Yuki stopped.
Sniffed...
Looked at the Daimyō.
Then at Otis.
Growl.
(That was the canine equivalent of "eww.")
(Pic)
Otis frowned. "What?"
"I'm not going to eat him," Yuki said. She snorted, disgust clear in her posture.
Otis crossed his arms. "…You eat people even when I say no. Now I say yes, and suddenly you have standards?"
Yuki huffed
Otis stared at her. "Yuki. Eat him."
She leaned closer, sniffed again… then pulled back dramatically.
(Pic)
"He's disgusting and too greasy," she said. "I'm not putting that in my mouth."
Otis stared.
"…You're kidding."
Yuki turned her head away with another offended huff, like she'd just been personally insulted.
Otis pinched the bridge of his nose. "You literally ate four ninja yesterday."
Yuki did not look back.
Otis looked back at the Daimyō. "She says you look… uh… unhygienic."
She's not wrong though, Otis thought absently.
While they argued, the Daimyō's body betrayed him completely. He was sweating so much it looked like he was melting.
Who are these maniacs…? he thought desperately. Just kill me already…
--
Author's Note:
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