Endless Cycle

The world around a certain Sound shinobi swirled as he slowly regained consciousness. It was Kimimaro, and he was feeling the weightlessness encasing him. Then he heard his ears ringing. He coughed slightly, an instinctual response reflecting his sickness. To his surprise, no blood coated his lips; it seemed as if he had been reborn and given a second chance—or some twisted version of it.

As he steadied himself, he remembered bits and pieces: his lineage, the servitude under Orochimaru, and most vividly, the moment he had died.

He placed a hand over his head, thinking to himself how was this possible?

Out of the fog stepped a familiar figure with silver hair filtering through the foliage. Clad in the garb of a Sound ninja, Kaito stood with their signature purple rope tied around his waist.

"You..." Kimimaro gasped in disbelief.

"Yes, me," Arthur, cloaked as Kaito, coolly replied. "Kimimaro, as promised, I've revived you. And now I'll kill you again and again until you understand who your true lord is."

Kimimaro became shocked as clarity slowly returned. The memories flooded him—he had been a loyal servant under Orochimaru until Arthur, with his mysterious powers, had intervened, healing him and orchestrating his own death as if to erase the chains that bound him.

But how can one trick death? Kimimaro felt a primal instinct to attack, and before he could think, he swiped his hand: "Digital Shrapnel!"

A bone bullet hurtled toward Arthur. Yet, to Kimimaro's utter astonishment, the bullet struck Arthur's forehead and simply fell to the ground. Arthur hadn't even moved!

A deep silence settled with tension following. Arthur finally broke the quiet, "You can try as many times as you'd like. Fight back, waste your Kekkei Genkai. But in the end, I'll keep killing you till you learn."

Instinctively, Kimimaro's body surged with desperation, propelling him to flee. The moment he turned, he collided again with Arthur, who swiftly seized his arm and twisted him to the ground.

In a flash, Kimimaro summoned a bone sword from his clavicle, a last desperate attempt at self-defense. But Arthur was unfazed; he parried the attack, catching the weapon and snapping it cleanly with the sheer force of his palm.

Seething with rage and confusion, Kimimaro unleashed five more Digital Shrapnel projectiles, but Arthur merely sidestepped, evading each one with fluid grace.

In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, delivering a barrage of seven punches so quickly that Kimimaro felt each strike as a delayed echo of pain. Staggering and reeling, the Sound shinobi fell to the ground and was on the verge of losing consciousness.

As his vision blurred, Arthur loomed above him to ask, "Did you notice something about your new body?"

When Kimimaro rallied himself back to consciousness, he looked at himself, only to see the absence of his curse mark. That mark had been his bond to Orochimaru, a physical reminder of his servitude.

So how? How could Arthur have severed that bond like Kimimaro was just a plaything?

"Who the heck are you?!" Kimimaro yelled in defiance.

It was a desperate cry to understand. So Arthur's response was brutal. He stomped down on Kimimaro's trachea, and darkness enveloped the shinobi's world once more.

A minute passed, or perhaps an eternity, before Kimimaro awoke. The familiar surroundings accentuated the harrowing conclusion: he was still in the same territory and still trapped within this horrible cycle.

The moment he looked up, Arthur awaited him again with the same expression.

Then Kimimaro finally understood. This was not an illusion; Arthur would continually kill him until the notion of submission was indelibly etched into his being.

With sheer instinct, he attempted to leap into the forested canopy, yearning for escape. Yet, before he could make contact with the bark of the nearest tree, Arthur ensnared him by the ankles, yanking him downwards and crashing him back against the ground.

'Water style: surface slice…'

Before Kimimaro could process the technique, the swift jet of water cleaved through the air, slicing off both his legs in an instant. The pain was evident as he let out a primal scream tearing from his throat.

Blood then pooled around him.

Arthur stepped over his writhing form in disdain as he said, "I can force you to submit to me, but then you'll turn on me eventually, will you not?"

Sweat poured down Kimimaro's brow as he was in agony. How could he respond in such a damning situation? So he remained silent, unwilling to submit even in pain.

With sheer will, he turned his body, and as if summoned by desperation, bone structures began to sprout from his torso, taking the form of new legs.

"Oh," Arthur mused, observing with fascination. "I've never seen you do that before…"

Just as Kimimaro prepared to strike with a newly formed bone sword, Arthur was quicker; he tripped Kimimaro, sending him to the ground before swiftly breaking one of his new legs.

The world dissolved into darkness as Arthur raised him by the neck and, with ease, snapped it as if it were nothing more than a twig. Kimimaro succumbed to the void yet again, feeling the fleeting grasp of consciousness as his essence was severed from him once more.

Emerging from the shadows, Tayuya and Rin appeared from the forest. Rin had the look of concern, while Tayuya was simply uncertain of the situation.

Tayuya, who had once been Orochimaru's servant and a teammate of Kimimaro, approached Arthur to query, "Are you going to revive him again?"

"Of course," Arthur replied. "Until he learns not to serve snakes, he'll keep dying."

Tayuya's brow furrowed in objection. "But, my lord, can't you let me talk to him? Maybe I can change his mind."

Arthur's gaze hardened as he said, "No. This is necessary."

That made Tayuya hold her tongue.

Arthur can't have Kimimaro interact with anyone in case this fails. Because if it does, that would let Kabuto eventually reanimate the shinobi with his full memories of this event. And if Kimimaro remembers this, he'll spill everything Arthur's done thus far.

But who's to say Kabuto will even be alive to perform the reanimation? Arthur wouldn't know for certain, but he also wasn't going to leave room for errors to be made.

"Rin," he said. "Be sure to understand what lesson's being taught here."

A moment later, Kimimaro's eyes fluttered open once more. This time, he stood up unsteadily. He felt numb and confused.

"Why am I here?" he murmured, barely audible.

It was a kind of hell, one where he fought against the things he once believed in. With a heart full of turmoil and questions, he faced Arthur, who looked at him like a puppeteer unwilling to stop things.

"I'm sure you know how this goes," Arthur said.

Kimimaro's stomach churned. By the time he knew it, he had died again, remembering only the pain that Arthur had inflicted on him.

He opened his eyes once more, feeling utterly contemptuous of this situation. Perhaps there existed a way to escape this endless cycle—a way to reclaim not just his body, but his will.

No, it was impossible.

The familiar surroundings felt more like his eternal prison now. The ground was cold beneath him. He lay there, pale and motionless, the dull throb of agony from a cycle of endless deaths at the hands of the one who kept resurrecting him.

It wasn't long until his world went dark again, only for him to wake up in the same position.

How many times had it been now? Ten? Thirteen? He could scarcely remember. All he felt was a hollow ache where hope once resided.

The sky remained stagnant, a featureless expanse that did not change with the passage of time. Day and night lacked meaning when every glimpse of the world around him felt like a cruel deception devised by Arthur.

No matter how many times he fought back, he had shattered his bones as if they were made of mere wood. What was the point of fighting anymore? The torment of death was etched into his very being, returning him to anguish without hesitation.

Kimimaro winced, recalling many moments of his demise—a flash of pain, the sharp crack of his ribs, and the suffocating darkness that continually followed.

Even when he didn't fight back, he found himself overpowered and reduced to mere whims of a broken man. Every escape he tried was thwarted without fail; it was as though Arthur had ingrained himself into the very essence of his being, anticipating his every thought and movement.

Kimimaro couldn't even distinguish whether he was living a nightmare or experiencing reality—was he truly alive, or merely a figment of punishment meant for untold sins?

Shadows chased after him in the confines of his mind. So much so that his previous time as a shinobi eluded his grasp.

Kimimaro often darkened into oblivion, only to be greeted by flashes of light that beckoned him. But each time he turned back in search of the source, an overwhelming urge to bow—to surrender—overwhelmed him, compelling him to submit to the one who had become his tormentor.

"Orochimaru…"

The name floated at the edge of his consciousness, but as he reached for it, it slipped away, like sand through his fingers. He had served someone once; he had felt the tide of loyalty towards that figure, and yet a shroud of forgetfulness enveloped his memories.

All he remembered was the warmth of rescuing hands that had once pulled him from that despair. But now, standing in place of comfort were faceless figures, and he felt himself drifting toward them each second.

The loyalty he once held was now a waned candle.

After what felt like an eternity, Kimimaro remained sprawled on the ground. In a detached gaze, he caught sight of Arthur standing a distance away, arms crossed.

It was as if the shinobi had become nothing more than a specimen.

Minutes passed with only the sounds attending the rustle of leaves—nature's unyielding indifference to his plight. And then, after what felt like hours, Arthur approached.

'Evil illusion flattery…'

The shinobi became disoriented, feeling the mental battle of darkness once more. Until now, he had managed to resist the pull of the technique, but as the darkness enclosed him, everything shifted. The distortions of what he believed twisted around him, and he finally turned to the light.

The shinobi stood upright, but not as he once had; his gaze remained fixed on the ground, refusing to meet Arthur's penetrating stare.

"Speak," Arthur demanded.

There was silence at first. Then, upon fully comprehending what was happening, Kimimaro made an instinctual choice—he dropped to his knees and breathed with genuine remorse, "My deepest apologies, my lord."

"Apologies for what…?"

"For having trespassed against you…"

The words felt like a confession of guilt that Kimimaro no longer quite understood. So Arthur probed, "What do you think of Orochimaru?"

The query brought an unsettling pause. Orochimaru had been Kimimaro's main principle, his only purpose. Without hesitating, the shinobi finally said, "I serve only you, my lord…"

Arthur was triumphant.

The response was more than what he could hope for. After killing this shinobi over and over again, Kimimaro had finally submitted and changed sides.

Why hadn't Arthur used the technique in the beginning? He was. Yet Kimimaro's unyielding loyalty to the snake was so great that Arthur was being refused at every turn. Now things had differed; now the once-loyal and only Dead Bone Pulse user in this world was under Arthur's full control.

Arthur turned away from Kimimaro, casting a glance skyward, and recited Matthew 6:24-25 from the KJV Bible: "No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other…"

With that, he vanished, leaving Kimimaro alone yet again in a world that felt painted by oppression.

The former Sound shinobi looked up at where Arthur had just stood. And for the first time in what felt like a long time, he witnessed the dawn breaking. The morning sunlight rose over the horizon to cast a warm glow over everything.

The light felt alien but invigorating, reminding him that he was finally free.