It had been nearly a year since arriving in Kirigakure. The war had ended, the Seven Bells had been defeated and long-forgotten. But what had become of Daraku in his time there? The Sannin had undergone a metamorphosis unlike that his Senjutsu training had provided; something more mental. What's a schizophrenic assassin to do when his nightmarish mental health is breaking him down with claims of ancient prophecies and impending obligation to save the world? The answer was simpler than it seemed: get the reality check he needed. Kirigakure had become a hub of aspiring ninjas and great minds that came together to support the war effort, and to make use of them and distract himself, Daraku befriended many people. Socialization helped to curb his manic episodes and his bloodthirst, a much simpler solution than he had expected. There was more to it than that, though. Of the connections he had made in the village, there were a few medical ninja that grew to like him. He himself was a powerful medical ninja and it was easy to establish relationships with similarly skilled ninja. That led to him taking up residence in the first place, as he established a long-term living situation and helped in the hospital to heal those who were still injured after the war finished. The hospital also had a wing to help those whose injuries were less...overt, so to speak. A mental health ward. Daraku didn't go there very frequently because his medical ninjutsu was mostly limited to helping with physical trauma, but he did go once in a while. What he saw really solidified how serious mental illness was--to anyone, ninja or otherwise.

And so the young Ishido found his own motivation to recover, to alleviate his schizophrenia as best he could. He sought more personal care and treatment so that he didn't have to reside in the mental health ward and he could still continue his duties at the hospital, but the process was under way and Daraku was happy. The voices that plagued him grew quieter with each dosage of medication and therapy sessions kept his violent rage in check, so much so that he rarely ever felt it anymore when he was alone with his thoughts. Months passed and things settled. Kirigakure was practically his home now; he had adjusted to the cold mists and ocean air, much different than his arid desert of a home in Sunagakure. He still wore his Sunagakure headband proudly around his neck to signify his allegiance to his nation, but alas, Mizu no Kuni had its charm. Eventually, the hospital returned to normalcy. Everyone from the war had either healed or died and the pace and urgency had lessened significantly, leaving Daraku with less of a purpose there. He quit working and focused on treatment, increasing his dosage of medication and doubling his therapy sessions to twice a week. Things continued like this throughout the summer (which wasn't even hot, but rather rainy and wet as spring had been). August came around and with it, his last therapy session. He hadn't been cured, alas, there was no such thing as curing schizophrenia, but its influence on him was almost nonexistent. Few hallucinations, regular moods, no more catatonia or violent thoughts. News of the Chuunin exams was on the lips of every person left in the village, but many of the genin as well as potential spectators and important diplomats (possibly even the Mizukage; Daraku wasn't quite sure) had gone to Kumogakure to attend them.

Daraku sold his meager home in the Mist and stood on the outskirts of the village. The Village Hidden in the Clouds was due north, a short boat trip away. He could've opted to go on foot and take the long way across the bridges and through Konoha, but what was the point? There were scheduled ferries designated specifically for the purpose of going to the Chuunin exams leaving the village at hourly intervals throughout the day, and the next one was in about 10 minutes. He had snacks in his pockets as well as some money and a few ninja tools. His three swords were strapped to his hips and back. Those were all that he needed, they went with him where he went, they were a part of him. The new, improved Daraku that relied on personal happiness and hedonism rather than bloodlust and insanity to motivate his actions. He needn't return home to Sunagakure now since last he heard from his uncle, the Ishido clan was doing well and prospering under its new leadership. Daraku didn't have to worry about them, he could do as he pleased.

A captain ushered passengers onto the boat quickly and departure time was approaching within seconds. Daraku, his black cloak flowing behind him with every step and covering the lower half of his face, was the last to board. This should be fun. Who doesn't wanna watch Genin kill each other to try and get an upper hand as ninja? I sure do. They set sail and vanished into the misty horizon.

Travel from Mizu no Kuni to Kaminari no Kuni: