A/N: This popped into my mind a few days ago, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since.

Prologue:

Ging Freecss stepped off the gangplank and onto the dock. The wood creaked beneath his feet as he adjusted his cap. He'd always liked the smell of the sea, but here, the sour tang of rotting fish overpowered the salty breeze. He pulled his scarf above his stubbled beard to cover his nose as well.

He considered this tiny island the border of civilization. It was weeks away by boat from the nearest major trading port. In the other direction, even further away, would be the Dark Continent. The people here led simple, isolated lives. When they weren't in their thatched wooden huts, they fished and farmed.

He could feel the locals' eyes trained on him as he walked. Visitors were rare, but Ging but was considered somewhat a regular here. The dock also served as a market, with fishermen showing off the day's catch. He walked past a cart that proudly displayed a two-headed fish with three eyes; the closer they were to the Dark Continent, the weirder the wildlife. He'd seen this particular species before, however, and pressed on.

"Ging!" the storekeeper called. He had an eyepatch and a scruffy beard, and a smile that was missing a few teeth.

"Yo, Howie," he said, throwing a wave. "Got anything for me today?"

Ging didn't come here for the peace, and certainly not for the fish. He was after something else entirely—stories.

Rumours of the Dark Continent. Tales of survivors and unexplainable sightings. Occasionally, something would wash up on this island's shores, or get tangled up in a fisherman's nets, and Ging would consider any of these worth the long journey here.

Howie leaned forward. He stunk of sweat and fish, but Ging bore with it when the man's grin widened. He jabbed a finger toward the town square behind. There was already a crowd gathered. "You came just in time. Jack pulled something out the water a few days ago you might wanna see."

Giving his thanks, Ging pushed on. He ignored the other storekeepers calling him. This was a quiet town, and anything that could draw such a large crowd was sure to be something of interest—it looked as if half the island's population was there. The crowd was agitated; whatever they were looking at, it made them scared and queasy.

Even better.

He passed by Jack, a burly fisherman who Ging knew liked to travel as far away as possible when he was out at sea. This wasn't the first time Ging had come to him.

"You're back, Ging," Jack said, in his deep voice. "I was thinking of a way to call you. Something like this—I was sure you'd be curious. You missed the best part, though. The fire went out just a couple minutes ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "Fire?"

"Yeah. Never seen fire like that in my life before. It was black—even burned underwater. We tried to put it out, but nothing worked. Been burning for days, before it suddenly extinguished itself just now. Just the kind of thing you like hearing about, eh?"

Ging frowned. He sniffed the air. The smell of cooked meat came from whatever the crowd was gathered around. "I'll take a look."

Black fire that burned underwater? That sounded like a Nen ability. But with the Dark Continent nearby, one could never be too sure. Besides, few Nen-users bothered venturing this far out.

He squeezed his way through the crowd.

It was a Dark Squid. He'd seen them before. Giant black-skinned squids with eyes the size of boulders and ten tentacles that—instead of suckers—was lined with claws and fangs. Their skin was infamous for deflecting harpoons, and the bigger ones were said to drag ships down into the depths.

The one in front of him had none of those intimidating attributes. The mangled corpse confirmed Jack's tales—most of its tentacles were missing, and what remained of them were tiny charred stumps. The rest of its skin had carbonized from heat—a hard cracked layer replacing the slimy skin. He knelt and placed a hand on it.

When he looked at his palm, it was covered with a thin layer of soot and ash.

The body was still warm. And, even better, he sensed no traces of Nen.

He looked at the crowd. "Anyone here want to try eating this with me?"

XxXxXxXxX

People stared at him as he climbed onto the sand. He was too tired to care. Even if his illness was gone by some magical miracle, crossing what felt like an entire ocean on foot was tiring.

He was almost out of chakra. He was thirsty, and he'd barely eaten in a week, with the only food he'd gotten coming from the sea monster that had attacked him. Without that tentacle, it was quite possible he would have starved to death.

But that seemed rather trivial, since this was his second time coming back from the dead.

Whatever the case, Uchiha Itachi was almost certain that the nightmarish scenario he found himself him was not a genjutsu.

XxXxXxXxX

A/N: If you're interested, leave a like/follow/fav/review. Depending on the reception, I might take this project on once I finish the first draft of my original fic (hopefully by the middle of this month)