Three days ago, when Shinji said those words, she stood there, stunned for a long time.
Not until his back completely vanished into the twilight, not until the night mist wrapped around her entirely, did she finally snap out of it.
Then she returned to the dormitory. Lying on the hard bed, staring at the ceiling, she thought for a long time.
She thought of Kisame Hoshigaki. She thought of those eyes of his that held nothing. She thought of the rumors about him killing his teammates.
She thought about it all night.
The next morning, she went to inquire about Kisame's whereabouts. The people in the Anbu looked at her with strange expressions; no one had ever proactively asked about Kisame before.
But she didn't care. She asked, found out, and then had someone pass on a message.
On the third day, she stood here waiting.
Perhaps she was crazy.
Perhaps it was because, over these years, she had never doubted the words spoken by that one person.
He said "You can do it," and she believed him.
He said "As long as you call, I will come," and she believed him.
He said "Go and fight him," and she didn't believe it, but she came anyway.
Perhaps it was because that sentence had spoken to her heart.
"How did you know?"
These five words had been spinning in her mind for three days. Every time she reached this point, she remembered the feeling of being talked about all those years.
Those words, "The orphan of the Bloodline clan is a curse," she had heard countless times, so often that she thought she had long since become numb to them.
But when that question was asked of her, she realized for the first time that she had never known what kind of person Kisame was.
She only knew what others said.
What others said about Kisame was that he was a slaughter maniac. He killed without blinking, even his own teammates; the wielder of Samehada was simply a monster.
She had heard this countless times, so often that she had even believed it herself.
Just as others only knew what others said about her.
Footsteps approached.
Mei Terumī snapped out of her deep thoughts and looked up.
A tall figure emerged from the mist.
He did not walk fast, but his strides were long, and every step he took on the ground carried a sense of nonchalance.
He carried the bandage-wrapped Samehada on his shoulder; the thing was larger than a person, yet on his shoulder, it felt as light as a wooden stick.
The mist flowed around his sides, stirred into slight disturbances by his moving form.
He stopped ten paces away from her.
His face wore an expression of extreme boredom: like someone dragged against their will to a party they didn't want to attend, as if saying, "You'd better have something serious to say."
His face was sharp-featured, his brows and eyes carrying a fierce, shark-like look, but there was nothing in his eyes.
No killing intent, no curiosity, no emotion whatsoever.
Kisame Hoshigaki.
He glanced at Mei Terumī.
The glance was brief. So brief it barely paused.
"Mei Terumī of the Anbu." His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against stone, "What did you call me out for?"
Mei Terumī took a deep breath.
The mist flowed around her, and the moss on the stone pillar exuded a damp scent. She leaned against the pillar, looked at him, and spoke.
"Fight me."
Kisame froze for a moment.
That pause was brief. So brief it was almost imperceptible.
But Mei Terumī saw it.
Kisame Hoshigaki's eyes widened slightly for an instant, then narrowed.
"You want to fight me?"
He unslung Samehada from his shoulder. The movement was slow, so slow it was as if he were deliberately giving her time to change her mind.
The bandage-wrapped greatsword was gripped in his hand, its tip pointing toward the ground, appearing exceptionally heavy in the mist.
"Fine."
The moment his words fell, he was already in front of her.
Fast.
So fast that Mei Terumī only saw a black shadow rush out of the mist, so fast that her eyes couldn't keep up at all.
Samehada slashed down overhead, the wind pressure it generated tearing a gap in the surrounding mist.
Mei Terumī dodged to the side.
The blade slashed down, brushing past her shoulder; the wind pressure tugged at her clothes, scraping her skin until it stung.
She didn't stop, sliding three steps away with the momentum, her hands already beginning to weave seals.
Water Release: Water Formation Wall.
Chakra surged from within her, condensing into a rotating wall of water in front of her. The water wall was thick and dense, sufficient to block most physical attacks.
But Samehada had already bitten into it.
The bandage-wrapped greatsword had come alive. No, not the greatsword, but the thing hidden inside it.
Countless fine teeth opened beneath the bandages, biting into the water wall, the crunching sound of chewing deafeningly harsh.
The water wall shattered and collapsed at a speed visible to the naked eye, swallowed completely by that mouth.
Mei Terumī's pupils constricted slightly.
She used the momentum to retreat, tapping her feet on the ground several times to create distance.
Kisame did not pursue, merely standing in place, holding the blade that was chewing on the Water Release, watching her.
Her hands did not stop.
Snake. Ram. Monkey. Boar.
Yōton: Lava Globs Technique!
A viscous, orange-red liquid erupted from her mouth like a stream of scalding lava, tearing through the mist and heading straight for Kisame's face.
The liquid dragged a scorching trail through the air; wherever it passed, even the mist was corroded with a sizzling sound.
Kisame frowned.
He dodged to the side, his movement so fast it left only an afterimage.
The orange-red liquid grazed his shoulder and landed on the stone pillar behind him.
The stone pillar was instantly corroded, a large hole appearing as the moss charred black, rubble tumbled down, and thick white smoke rose up.
But he hadn't dodged completely.
A drop had landed on the hem of his clothes. The liquid spread across the fabric, and in the blink of an eye, it corroded a charred hole, the edges still emitting thin smoke.
Kisame looked down at it.
The movement was slow. So slow it was as if time had suddenly slowed down.
He looked at the corroded hem, looked at the still-smoking charred edges, and then raised his head.
When he raised his head again, there was finally a glint of seriousness in his eyes.
Not killing intent. It was a kind of... look of sizing up prey.
"A little interesting."
He said.
As for the battle that followed, Mei Terumī couldn't remember the details clearly.
She only remembered the roar of Water Release explosions:
Water Dragon Bullet, Water Shark Bullet, Great Waterfall; she used every Water Release technique she knew, only to be pressed back by Kisame Hoshigaki's Water Release,
And then she pressed it back; the two forces collided time and again in the air, exploding into a sky full of water mist.
She only remembered the roaring sound of Samehada:
When that blade came alive, it would emit a low whimper, as if it were truly chewing on Chakra.
Every time it bit through her Ninjutsu, the sound became more excited.
She only remembered the excruciating pain of her Chakra hitting empty time and again, only to be forcibly squeezed out:
Her body felt as if it had been hollowed out, and also as if it were being burned by fire; every extraction made her consciousness blur for an instant.
But she dared not stop; if she stopped, she would lose.
And blood.
A lot of blood.
The gash left on her temple when Samehada grazed her; blood obscured her left eye.
She took a punch to the ribs; she didn't know how many bones had broken, but every breath brought a stabbing pain.
The webbing between her thumb and index finger had long since split open; her hand gripping the blade was covered in blood, so slippery she could barely hold it.
His, hers, she couldn't tell whose it was.
In the end.
Both of them collapsed into the ruins.
Mei Terumī lay on her back on the ground, beneath her were rubble and broken stone pillars, her back aching from the hardness.