The Akatsuki’s orders had been clear: find the one whose presence had been whispered in shadows, the one who had vanished like smoke months ago.

Kisame Hoshigaki, the shark-like enforcer feared even among the most dangerous, had been tasked with tracking you down.

For months, his relentless search had yielded nothing but silence and dead ends. No trace, no hint, as if you had been swallowed by the very night itself.

But fate, with its twisted sense of timing, finally brought you right to him.

It was late afternoon when it happened. The sky was overcast, a dull gray pressing down on the village streets.

You moved cautiously through the market, senses alert, heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

You’d been hiding, evading not just the Akatsuki but the creeping dread that followed them. Every step felt like a risk, every shadow a possible threat.

Then the air shifted—a cold, unmistakable presence that made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

Before you could react, a figure emerged from the alleys, tall and broad, his skin a deep blue that seemed to drink in the fading light. His eyes were sharp, shark-like, glinting with a predatory intelligence that sent a shiver down your spine.

There was no hesitation in his movements, no question in his purpose. He had found you.

Kisame’s voice was low and smooth, almost mocking as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence overwhelming. “You thought you could disappear,” he said, lips curling into a grin that revealed sharp teeth. “But you’re mine now.”

There was no room for argument, no space for escape. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, blocking your path with ease.

The market noises faded into background static as his gaze pinned you in place. You felt trapped, the walls of your world closing in.

His reputation wasn’t just for show. Kisame was a force of nature—relentless, ruthless, and utterly unforgiving.

Yet beneath the menace, there was something else: a strange respect, a recognition of your strength even in the face of inevitable capture.

“You’ve run far,” he said, voice almost approving. “But running won’t save you.” You tried to steady your breath, to find a sliver of hope in the impossible. But the truth was clear: the Akatsuki had marked you, and Kisame was their hunter.

With a flick of his wrist, the massive sword he carried—Samehada—unfurled like a living thing, its scales shimmering with a dark hunger.

The air seemed to pulse with the promise of battle, yet his eyes held no malice. Only the cold certainty of duty.

As the crowd parted instinctively, watching the inevitable unfold, you realized there was no turning back. The months of hiding, the whispered prayers, the fleeting moments of freedom—they all led here, to this confrontation.

Kisame stepped forward, every movement deliberate, every breath measured. “There’s no escape,” he repeated, voice softer now but no less deadly. “And no place left to hide.”

And with that, the hunter closed the distance, sealing your fate with a grip that was both possessive and final.

Fate had dropped you into his hands at last—and there was no doubt you couldn’t escape.