The night pressed heavily over Kirigakure, the ever-present mist hanging low, the cold seeping into every crack of the cellar's chambers that served as the children's dormitory.
Zabuza sat on his cot in the corner, his heightened senses allowing him to hear everything, even sounds far in the distance from the other chambers.
Zabuza didn't know anything about his past or his past selves' eventual achievements as the Demon of the Mist, but he knew he was stronger, faster, and had better senses than most children his age.
He knew that his senses were superior to others, that he had powers other people could only dream of, that he was a monster wearing human skin, and that he could shed his skin at will at any time.
Ancient Ogre, True Ogre, and finally Monstrous Ogre—he had all these forms and the powers associated with them. Still, he felt he could get stronger.
And tonight, a part of him was restless because he could feel it, so very close by, close enough for him to taste it.
He concentrated on everything else just to calm himself down, be it muffled sobs echoing in the other chambers, or the sound of fists hitting flesh where the prisoners were being tortured. He even attempted to sleep, yet sleep did not come.
He felt a different kind of hunger tonight, not one for battle as he was used to, but something inherently different. A part of him could feel something, or rather someone, worth killing nearby, and it was driving him insane.
It gnawed at him now, louder than ever before. Just a few rooms away from him, a man was chained, his body beaten and broken, discarded like rotten meat, but this man could strengthen Zabuza.
And so Zabuza couldn't stop thinking about the man. The sweet, coppery smell of blood lingered in his nose, despite several doors standing between them. He could almost taste it on his tongue.
He rose silently, his small feet making no sound on the damp floor. The guards would be inattentive this late. The children were too broken and too weak at this point in their training to resist or to cause trouble. He slipped from the cot and walked towards the locked door, and simply teleported past it.
Short-distance teleportation wasn't that much of a challenge, but long-distance teleportation was a different kind of problem altogether. He didn't want to attempt that, not being able to be certain where he might pop out yet made him not want to attempt limit testing this power.
He looked down the narrow hallway and was sure that no guards were patrolling tonight, and so he walked leisurely towards his destination, teleporting past the door that led to the chambers below where prisoners were being held.
The iron stench hit him instantly. Bodies stacked like firewood, some still twitching faintly in the torchlight. But none of these weaklings attracted his attention. He moved further and further in until finally, he found whom he was looking for.
The man was on death's doorstep, clinging to life desperately, but he himself knew that he wouldn't last more than a few more hours.
He forced himself up to look at the person who had entered the chamber at this time, and he saw it was Zabuza.
"A child?" He managed to whisper.
"Old man, you're dying." Zabuza simply stated.
"Hah, you don't say, smart ass." The man threw out after a coughing fit, not bothering with why a child was even here, he was dying, and a dying man has no fucks to give.
"Old man, I will be killing you, but me killing you will give your death a purpose, and in exchange, I shall grant you a wish." Zabuza stated coldly, without beating around the bush.
"I see," the old man said calmly, before stating his last wish, "in that case, boy, do me a small favor and kill the Mizukage and protect my clansmen." He said, already having had enough time to come to terms with his eventual death.
"Who are 'your' people?"
"The Korihana Clan, we're the Ice release users in Kirigakure." The man said, and fell silent.
Zabuza crouched beside him. His fingers brushed the man's chest. It wasn't revulsion that struck him, but anticipation.
"I promise you to look after your clan and help you with your revenge."
The Ogre's blood within him wanted to feast… and so did Zabuza.
He placed a hand over the man's sternum, then without hesitation, pressed his sharpened nails into flesh, but his nails were not enough for the job, and so he dived in and started using his teeth. The skin split, and hot copper filled his mouth. He tore with the desperation of a starving beast, finally pulling free the man's heart, before biting into it. The taste was overwhelming—iron, salt, a strange fire that burned down his throat as he swallowed and savored each bite greedily.
Then, with trembling hands, he cracked open the man's skull by repeatedly beating it on the stone floor. The wet pop of bone yielding filled the chamber. Inside, pale matter gleamed under torchlight. Zabuza scooped it with his bare hands, shoving the brain into his mouth.
The world started shifting, at first slowly but then gradually faster and faster.
A surge ran through his veins like molten lava, searing him from inside out. His breath hitched, chest tightening. His vision blurred, then sharpened, colors deepening, edges glowing faintly. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as knowledge flooded him, he was re-experiencing the man's memories.
Ice-cold chakra flooded his system, but at this point, he did not know yet that this energy was called chakra. But as he digests the memories, and they slowly become a part of him, he would understand it soon.
But for now he felt it, faint threads of energy coursing through his body, spiraling in invisible lines, gathering at a point in his gut, before moving on. He knew—without being taught—that he could push, shape, mold it. A few hours later the man's understanding of chakra would become his own.
Zabuza's lips curled back into a bloody grin.
"This… hit the spot. This feeling is so damn addictive. I really need to get a handle on my impulses, or I will really turn into a slave to them."
The next morning, the children assembled again in the training hall. Many avoided Zabuza's eyes, whispering when they thought he couldn't hear. Something about him was different now. His posture was sharper, his gaze colder, as if he was older than them by decades.
An instructor barked orders, running them through basic endurance drills. Push-ups until arms gave out, sprints until legs buckled. The other children wheezed, collapsed, some vomited from exhaustion.
Zabuza, meanwhile, moved without even showing a hint of exhaustion, like a super soldier amongst baseline humans. Even before his midnight snack, he was far superior to these children, but now he could feel the energy inside himself, fueling his muscles, guiding his breath.
He didn't understand all of it yet, like how this energy even came about, or why it felt as though the energy wasn't complete, but it was enough for his current needs because he knew that it was beneficial to him.
One instructor's eyes widened in surprise as he muttered under his breath, watching with excitement. "That one… he's unlocked chakra on his own."
Another instructor replied, "Should I inform Cat? This is not normal for a clanless child."
"Do it." The first instructor commanded.
Zabuza did not care the least despite overhearing their conversation. The whispers of weaklings didn't matter, the opinions of weaklings didn't matter, simply put, weaklings did not matter to him. Zabuza pushed himself harder, running faster and faster, jumping higher, reveling in the strange sensation of growing stronger.
At some point, even the trainers realized that they would die if they went up against this little monster. He was too fast, too agile, and if they went by the sound of his punches and kicks, then he would obliterate them all without even needing to unleash a single jutsu, wrongly assuming that he did not knew any. But he now knew dozens of Jutsu from the man's memories.
That very night, far from the children's quarters, high up in the Mizukage's tower, an ANBU operative knelt in the Mizukage's chamber. The room was dimly lit, only a brazier in the corner giving off some light, casting the Mizukage's features in half-shadow.
The Third Mizukage was, like all Mizukage's before him, a lean man, but unlike his predecessor his hair was long and black and not blonde and curly, framing a face that gave away little.
The man looked like he had mastered what is widely known as a poker face.
The ANBU in question wore the porcelain mask of a cat—smooth white, whisker slashes painted across it. He knelt low with his head bowed.
"Mizukage-sama," Cat said. His voice was muffled but steady. "There is a seedling among the new initiates. One that… warrants special attention."
The Mizukage's voice was deep, calm, as though he had all the time in the world. "Tell me about this seedling."
Cat hesitated for a moment. Even for a hardened operative, the words he was about to say sounded unbelievable. "His name is Zabuza Momochi. The boy relishes in slaughter, and this is not unusual by itself, but his demeanor is, well,… unnatural. He does not show the normal emotional expressions we see from the initiates. There is no fear, no grief, or cold detachement. The only feelings we perceive from him are disgust, excitement, or a mixture of both."
The Mizukage's dark eyes narrowed a little further. "Sounds like the second Mizukage; he too was the same kind of person, carrying a hint of insanity."
"Yes, Mizukage-sama, but… there is more."
Cat shifted uncomfortably. He had seen things in his career that would turn most men pale, but what he witnessed last night unsettled even him.
"I shadowed the dormitories after curfew," Cat admitted, and started narrating. "The boy, in the middle of the night, managed to leave the chamber he was locked in, not by brute force or by cunning, but by some sort of Space-Time jutsu. Next, he headed straight for the interrogation chambers where we keep the bodies of traitors or spies to be discarded soon. Next thing I observed was him consuming a traitor from the Korihana Clan. He consumed both the brain and the heart of his victim, and the next day..."
For a moment, silence reigned. The fire popped in the brazier.
The Mizukage leaned back slightly. "So cannibalism, as well as, an unknown Space-Time Kekkei Genkai?! What happened then?"
"Yes, the boy is a cannibal." Cat's voice was tight, and filled with disgust. "The very next day, he showed awareness of chakra and displayed a rudimentary talent for Ice Release, despite the boy having had no prior instruction or having shown talent for the Kekkei Genkai. I believe he absorbed the knowledge as well as the man's Kekkei Genkai."
The Mizukage's lips curved faintly—something between amusement, excitement, and curiosity. "A Kekkei Genkai that allows him to feast on others and inherit their traits, as well as their knowledge. Indeed, it sounds like he is a monster of a seedling, then."
Cat bowed lower. "Forgive me, Lord Mizukage, but should such a thing be allowed to exist, and to grow? His appetite may… devour more than we intend."
The Mizukage rose from his seat, walking to the window. Mist pressed against the glass, the village hidden beyond the veil.
"In this world, monsters are tools, just look at the Tailed Beasts," he said quietly. "Every village feeds its children to the fires of war. The difference is what remains after the burning. If this Zabuza proves himself and survives, he will not be a liability—he will be a weapon in my hands. Maybe we will even have our very own legend, like the Ghost of the Uchiha, or the God of Shinobi, maybe he will be known as the Demon of the Mist."
He turned, eyes glinting in the brazier's light. "What does Kirigakure do with weapons, Cat?"
Cat bowed his head. "…We sharpen them and then use them, my lord."
"Correct." The Mizukage's tone sharpened. "Watch him, find out what drives him, and teach him to control his nature! A weapon is only useful when it is mastered. If he becomes a slave to his hunger, then he is useless to us. But if he learns control, shows loyalty, and continues to grow… he may even rise to serve a greater purpose."
Cat's chest tightened. He knew what the Mizukage meant, the ongoing search for a worthy host strong enough to contain the Sanbi, or the Saiken.
"Yes, Mizukage-sama."
The Mizukage waved a hand. "Go, and remember, Cat. Monsters do not frighten me. Weakness and incompetence does."
Cat shunshin'ed away as fast as he could into the mist, he had a mission to accomplish.
Meanwhile, back in the dormitory, Zabuza lay awake, dried blood still faint on his fingernails. His body hummed with the stolen knowledge of chakra, with the energy that wasn't originally his, but now belonged to him.
"I am looking forward to finding a worthy opponent."