Mifune's POV
Mifune wasn't confident that he wouldn't perish here. His dark creature of an opponent seemed innocuous and unthreatening. As such, he wanted to help Reizo quickly with the crowd of murderous white beasts. With this in mind, Mifune had locked eyes with the creature and uttered what he was sure would be the final words it would ever hear.
"Dancing Blade Risk." He whispered silently as he was suddenly behind Zetsu. Having moved so quickly, the odd creature had not sensed him until his blade met its body. As he sheathed his blade, the creature fell. Likely being split in two by his speedy and powerful slash.
Suddenly, it rose again in a peculiar manner. Its body is unharmed as it rises bonelessly. Almost as if his body was utterly malleable by will. "My, that is quite the technique. I would've been cut if I were a mere human." It mocked as it turned to face him. "Got anything be-" Black Zetsu was unable to finish. His voice was cut off by Mifune's sudden whisper or, more likely, the wave of a powerful chakra following after enveloping and slicing into Zetsu before he could even flinch.
"Drowning Flash Wave." He announced that a building-sized slash of chakra consumed and carried Zetsu, cutting him to bits as it smashed through the remaining standing portion of the building, causing it to collapse entirely. Mifune sheathed his blade as they were exposed to cold wind and flying snow. The remaining Samurai scrambled away from the ruins of the building. Knowing Mifune would likely crush any remaining enemies. Mifune eyed the several pieces of the creature remaining. His gaze, in particular, landed on the severed head of it. His eyes widened, and he jumped back as it cackled back.
"How amusing. To think this land would produce someone of your level. If you weren't so simple to read, you'd be worth something. Unfortunately, all you are now is a particularly competent pest. You'll still need to be crushed." Zetsu ranted as his body seemed to liquefy and fly through the air to reattach the talking head. The other parts similarly fly through the air to form a mass. The head flew back, with Zetsu laughing all the while. His head was added to the mass last. The rest reformed into the vaguely humanoid shape the beast had before. "My turn, Wood Style: Forest Emergence!" As he finished his cry, trees suddenly sprouted from the ground, and wooden beams grew and flew towards Mifune, who flinched. He then grits his teeth and lowers his stance.
"Allow me to show my hand as well! Draw of the Seven Principles: Seven Slashes of Death!" He called. He sliced through the air with intense, precise strikes, each seemingly blocking out all surrounding sound for a moment. As the forest drew close, the trees were suddenly cut to shreds, the air following the slashes in significant streams, blasting any bystander. For a moment, it looked like Mifune had countered the powerful attack with relative ease. Before the wood continued to fly towards him. The previously sliced and falling wood is merely being carried by the new beams and trees combining them with itself. Mifune desperately called out as it drew close. Desperately using the last of his chakra to shield his men, he called out. "QUICK DRAW: NETTING OF BLADES!" The attack came out once again, managing to slice some of the approaching forest, but not near enough. Samurai, Mifune, Reizo, and even the remaining White Zetsu were smashed into it by this. The forest stopped, bringing silence to the clearing. The former plateau was now covered in a forest. Separating the survivors and effectively wiping out the group.
"Surely, that will be enough of a distraction. I'd like to ensure it is as is, but it would be wise to retreat for now." 'Besides, that old man took more out of me than I expected. He may even be as strong as the five Kage.' Black Zetsu marched out of the forest. I'm not concerned in the slightest about a continued assault. They were either dead or were undoubtedly wishing they were.
Ikam's POV (Traversing - Land of Fire)
Ikam was usually not one to dwell on the past. Sure, his goal was due to the past, but he very much moved to the future. Yet today, his mind seemed to be locked into the past. Before he became Ikam of the Uzumaki, he formed a powerful group to aid in his goal. He had been very different before, he was sure. He could remember him hiding out, seemingly fearful of each day. He could remember desperate, long days longing for peace and safety. The exact details had become fuzzy at some point. Suddenly, he heard a voice demanding that he enact an absurd plan.
For one year, Ikam suffered under its voice. At first, he assumed it was a ghost or god. But soon, it became clear somehow, the voice was simply another part of him. He couldn't remember much, just long nights of him pleading to himself for peace. Pleading they need their mind for life. But the voice hadn't relented. Ikam had given in after time. Its volume had consumed him. It had made him care little for his current life. Instead, it told him to enact the plan. Feeding him bit by bit until he was under its hold. First, it told him of his new identity as a Uzumaki. He had found a way to permanently dye his hair red. He studied their ways and customs until he was indistinguishable from others. It told him to gather its kin. Each time, it led him to a useful Uzumaki. Each time, it told him how to gain their loyalty. It had never strayed him wrong.
So when it told him he must kill or ally with each Uzumaki, he treated it as law. His group had been hard to convince, but he presented an edited version of the tale as he had discovered the truth of Uzumaki's crime. He used evidence that the context was misstated to support his version. Within a few short years, the group had grown and started to slay their kin.
It was odd to Ikam. He felt like he was somehow a puppet to another part of himself. He acted within his own will but not with his consent. If Ikam had been foolish, he would've confided the truth to one of his followers. But thus far, only Mishio had accepted the actual version of events and moved with him despite it. That was only due to her utter adoration of him. Something he had always irrationally hated. But he used it to his advantage. He merely wished some part of him wouldn't scream in pain whenever he was close to her. Yes, he lived in constant opposites. He supposed most would not continue as he would. But he must accomplish the goal he seemed to crave. It could finally silence his mind.
Ikam shook his head, and the group around him stopped and tensed. He looked at the trips, realizing those odd thoughts had returned. But knowing it would shatter his image, he merely continued walking. The group continued as well, knowing better than to question him. Mishio squeezed his hand. Ikam inwardly flinched before frowning at that. Why would he feel oddly standing with his beloved wife? He shook away the useless thoughts as his group stopped nearing their goal. Ikam cleared his mind as Mishio, Ashira, and he walked to a ledge overlooking the ocean. In the distance, a series of islands could be barely spotted. Most of them are utterly covered in mist.
He would waste time later. His goal had brought him here. Orochimaru had spoken of a Kage that could be pretty useful to them. Yagura Karatachi, jinchuriki of The Three-Tails, and Mizukage of the Village Hidden in the Mist. His intel told him he saw himself as a god seeking justice.
The arrogant and naive were always easy to fool.