"It's already good."
In the quiet of the woods, Ryoma finished repairing Sasori's puppet body. The latter had been remarkably lucky—Kakuzu's Water Release had only punctured the human puppet's shell without touching the regeneration core. Had that core been damaged, even slightly, Sasori would've been finished.
"Thank you, my lord."
Sasori rose, clenching his fists, feeling his body restored. As he turned his head to the right, a figure emerged from the shadows—scythe resting on his shoulder.
"That's Hidan."
Ryoma nodded. He had sensed the newcomer long before he stepped out.
That chakra… full of malice, bloodlust, and something twisted.
Chakra—born from both physical and spiritual energy—naturally reflects a person's nature. Karin could sense emotional change through chakra; this chakra, however, could only be described as evil, rancid, and saturated with a strange, indescribable aura.
Hidan stopped, staring at Ryoma with disbelief. On the way here, he had already sensed Kakuzu's chakra vanish completely. He didn't need confirmation to know what that meant.
"Oi, are you serious? You actually killed Kakuzu?"
Hidan was a lunatic in every sense of the word. Anything unrelated to him simply didn't matter. He didn't know who Ryoma or Sasori were—and didn't care. To Hidan, people weren't people. They were sacrifices. Offerings to be delivered to Jashin.
Many Akatsuki members were eccentric—Deidara pursued the aesthetics of explosions, Sasori sought eternal beauty in his puppets—but Hidan was lunacy incarnate.
He had zero respect for life. The only thing he loved was his cult, pain, and ritual murder.
"Still, Kakuzu was my teammate," Hidan muttered, gripping his scythe. "I remember your face now. I don't care what happens—I'm killing you!"
A surge of wicked chakra erupted from his body.
Black spread across his skin, snow-white lines twisting around his limbs and face like bone.
"Oh? Interesting."
Ryoma watched him calmly.
Unlike the Rinnegan, Sharingan, or Byakugan—bloodline powers of the Ōtsutsuki—or the ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu one can train… Hidan's immortality and curse techniques came from a forbidden ritual tied to the cult of Jashin.
It was less ninjutsu and more akin to shamanistic curses or ancient sacrificial sorcery.
"Don't drift off while fighting me!"
Hidan rushed forward, the Triple-Bladed Scythe swinging in a vicious arc.
Ryoma merely raised one finger and tapped the descending blade.
"What an idiot!"
Hidan burst into laughter. Never had he met a sacrifice who willingly delivered his own blood. The ritual required only a single drop. With it, Hidan could control the target's life and death.
Ryoma's action, to him, was pure stupidity.
But the next moment, Hidan's smile shattered.
Ryoma's single finger stopped the scythe dead in midair.
A gentle flick followed—
CRACK.
The entire Triple-Bladed Scythe exploded into fragments.
"Impossible!"
Hidan stared at the broken pieces in disbelief. Before he could recover, a blow smashed into his abdomen. His body hurled backward, organs rupturing—red and white splattering across the ground.
"AAAAAAAHHH!"
Agonizing pain flooded through him. Hidan clutched his abdomen, but the blood wouldn't stop pouring out.
Yes, he had an immortal body.
Yes, he possessed insane regenerative ability.
But his pain receptors worked just fine.
And now, for the first time, Hidan truly felt it—
a sensation frighteningly close to death.
A few seconds later, the blood on Hidan's body finally ceased flowing, and his shredded organs began knitting back together. Mobility returned to his limbs, though when he looked at Ryoma, a faint trace of fear flickered in his eyes.
But in the very next heartbeat, he violently shook his head—denial overriding instinct. He yanked out a short black ritual spear from inside his cloak and stabbed it straight into his own palm.
"Damn it! Why should I fear him! I am protected by Lord Jashin! I fear no one!"
He muttered like a zealot trying to brainwash himself, then pulled the black spear out again.
Whoosh!
The spear lengthened instantly—stretching from twenty centimeters to a full one hundred and twenty.
"Feel pain and die! It is the will of God!"
Hidan leaped, bringing the pitch-black spear down in a murderous arc.
But Ryoma's eyes had already shifted—scarlet petals turning, the Mangekyō Sharingan blooming in his gaze.
"—Ugh!"
The moment Hidan's eyes met Ryoma's, everything collapsed.
The Mangekyō spun like a blood-red moon, and Hidan's limbs instantly lost strength. He dropped to his knees with a thud.
"Damn… genjutsu—!"
The realization came too late. A wave of vertigo struck him like a hammer, and his consciousness was severed in an instant. He collapsed, completely unconscious.
Hidan's immortality and monstrous regeneration were impressive—but his mental defenses were pitiful. Even a competent jōnin's genjutsu could catch him. There was no universe where he could resist Ryoma's Sharingan.
Ryoma stepped forward and lifted the unconscious Hidan by one hand.
After applying a sealing technique to suppress the cultist's immortality ritual, Ryoma tossed the bound Hidan toward Sasori before weaving a single seal.
A dark rift—a portal of Yomotsu Hirasaka—tore open in front of them.
"Let's go."
The trio stepped through, arriving inside Konoha's Scientific Research Bureau.
Ryoma pushed open Orochimaru's office door and casually dropped Hidan onto the floor.
"Study him thoroughly over the next few days."
He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
Orochimaru was the type who became more invested when left to explore freely. Even without further instruction, he would inevitably devote himself to dissecting every secret Hidan possessed.
Leaving the lab with Sasori, Ryoma headed for the Hokage Building. After asking Nara Shikaku to arrange suitable accommodations for Sasori, Ryoma finally returned home.
The familiar warmth washed away the last remnants of killing intent clinging to him.
When Ryoma opened the door, he saw little Naruko sprawled in the living room, intensely playing a handheld game.
"Dad!"
The moment she spotted him, she dropped the console and launched herself forward—using her signature head-first tackle straight into his chest.
Ryoma caught her easily.
If his body weren't what it was, that "affectionate" headbutt would've put any normal adult in the hospital for a month.