It would be rude and not entirely true to say that the others cramp their style, but there are fewer constraints with just the two of them.

She laughs.

Indeed.

On to the next world, then?

On to the next pile of tinder awaiting their spark.

There's a mountain, here. A fortress carved into it, protected. A hall to keep the clan safe, before shinobi learned to walk through walls and shadows and to root themselves into their enemy's minds and bodies -

There's a long meeting hall, vaulted ceiling destroyed, letting light filter in softly.

There's black char on the stone, and burnt scraps of fabric.

There's someone curled up in the throne, holding her head.

What?

"Hello?" Hisame calls, unsettled.

This world feels familiar.

"Go away."

"No. Tell us who hurt you."

She starts laughing then choking. "You can't get anything from me. No one can."

"We don't- want anything from you."

"People usually do. And it's almost never even to kill me."

The Keres looks at Hisame- her Hisame.

She goes to kneel before the other her.

"Kotoamatsukami," she says, firmly.

The other Hisame flinches, hard.

"That was the technique used on you, wasn't it?" the Keres' Hisame continues. "I don't have the trick of it. I never would. It's a horrid thing." Half turning to the Keres: "It's mind control. Mind editing. Implant commands, and reshape someone's mind like putty. I've known of very few who could use even a cheap knock-off. Whoever did this wasn't particularly skilled, or perhaps was incautious, or simply trying to leave some of her mind intact."

"I will kill them."

"Already dead. Can say that."

"Good."

"Didn't make it better."

"Didn't make it worse."

"Might've. Now he can't change it."

"We can find a way."

"I have seen this, before."

"In my world it only broke on death - but it did break. The resurrected were free."

"We can."

"I'm not allowed to let you."