The scent of sandalwood curled through the Hokage's office like a drifting prayer, half-lost amid the morning papers and smoke from Hiruzen's pipe. The aged man leaned back slightly, eyes closed—not asleep, never that careless—but meditating.
Then, poof.
A small cloud of smoke blossomed on the tiled floor in front of his desk. From it emerged a tiny boar, barely larger than a housecat.
Its fur shimmered with faint chakra lines, and its tusks were polished like ivory pins. Clenched tightly in its mouth was a sealed scroll, banded in obsidian silk and waxed red with Daigo's personal insignia.
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow.
"A courier summon?" he muttered, tapping the ash from his pipe. "From Daigo."
The boar grunted once, almost politely, then laid the scroll on the desk before vanishing in a neat puff of smoke.
The Hokage exhaled a long stream of smoke and cracked the seal. The parchment unfolded like a small tapestry—Daigo's handwriting was surprisingly elegant despite his crude reputation. The first few lines were pure Daigo: blunt, precise, no wasted words.
Yo, old man. Here's your update.
Mission parameters changed. Tazuna lied.
Intentional misdirection. The man's more stubborn than a battle-bred sow in heat, but he's not malicious. Turns out Wave's being strangled by a leech named Gato.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. He knew that name.
"Gato…" he said aloud, almost spitting it. "That parasite still breathes?"
He read on, pipe forgotten.
Demon Brothers intercepted us early. Low C-rank rogues, nothing the kids couldn't handle. Their claws were aimed for Tazuna, which got me sniffing around.
Turns out Gato's got more than thieves in his pocket. Ran into Momochi Zabuza.
That name snapped the Hokage to attention.
His eyes narrowed. Zabuza was no rumor, Hiruzen remembered his file well. A relic of the Blood Mist era. A ruthless, efficient A-grade monster.
Yes, that Zabuza. Bastard was lurking in the trees, pulled the classic 'silent killing' trick. Kids held formation well. I took point.
Dropped him like a sack of potatoes.
He's not working alone. Someone pulled his busted body out of the sea. Didn't pursue. Their intent wasn't hostile, just desperate. Protective.
Conclusion: likely a hired team working under Gato to eliminate the bridge builder.
Wave getting its bridge means Fire gains another economic artery.
Letting that happen would tank Gato's monopoly faster than Naruto tanks subtlety.
At that line, Hiruzen snorted softly.
I'll keep the mission running and complete it personally. Tazuna's house is solid enough, and his daughter's competent.
Her boy's a handful, but Naruto already roped him into push-ups. Figure that's safe.
P.S.: writing this in advance 'cause I hate wasting time. If I die, just assume that it's bullshit.
The final signature was smeared with a boar hoof stamp of black ink and something that looked suspiciously like sake.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, rolling the scroll closed with deliberate care. Then he sighed, he wondered what that troublesome team was up to right now?
Back in Wave,
The fog never left the shores of Wave Country, but something had changed in the air—the sound of progress had returned.
Not from civilians alone. From shinobi also.
The bridge site, once a place of fearful glances and hesitant hammering, now echoed with grunts, impact, chakra hums, and coordinated effort.
Workers watched in awe as Daigo Guretsu marched up the newly laid beams like a war god shouldering twin lumber stacks the size of tree trunks each one easily a four-man lift.
"TIMBER!" someone shouted.
A massive log crashed down near the scaffolding. Daigo, shirt off, flipped another log effortlessly over his shoulder, slamming it onto a mounting bracket. The entire beam shuddered under the impact, but held. Workers stared.
Tazuna whistled, both impressed and slightly terrified. "That's a one-man work crew…"
Down the scaffold, Naruto was everywhere. Literally. Twenty clones swarmed the site—carrying crates, guiding planks, hammering in rows, even bickering with one another while doing so.
"Hey! Idiot, that's backwards—"
"No you're backwards—"
"SHUT UP AND HAMMER!"
Tazuna's workers looked torn between laughing and gawking.
Naruto himself was drenched in sweat but grinning ear to ear. "Shadow Clone Jutsu, baby! Best damn construction force in the Elemental Nations!"
Sasuke, by contrast, was all silence and precision. While others carried, he observed. Wires were his specialty. He'd looped a complex cable system through the half-finished framework, turning them into makeshift crane pulleys.
He used his chakra to wall-walk up a support pillar, hand extended, guiding a beam from below using another line.
"Steady, right there," he muttered to a worker below. "Don't move it until I say."
They listened. He was only twelve, but the boy had a voice you didn't question.
Sakura surprised the workers more than anyone. When she wasn't helping hammer from walls others couldn't reach, she was designing tools out of salvaged materials. Rope-and-plank elevators for carrying supplies up steep angles. Weighted counterbalances for tilted cranes.
One of the older workers gawked as she tied off a joint with swift precision.
"How'd a kid like you learn trap mechanics like that?"
She smirked. "You've never had to keep Naruto from blowing up your tent during survival training."
Daigo eventually dropped down from his latest delivery and cracked his knuckles, eyeing the sweat-glossed foreheads of his team.
"Look at you three," he muttered with pride. "Dressed like shinobi. Moving like a crew. Making me look competent. I'm disgusted."
Naruto puffed his chest proudly. "Told you we're not dead weight!"
"Yet," Daigo added with a smirk.
Sasuke, wiping sawdust from his arms, muttered, "We should've been doing this days ago."
Its been two days since they arrived to Tazuna's house, it was Sensei's idea to join Tazuna and the workers. At first Sasuke was skeptical as he couldn't see what he'd learn from this. But now?
"You're right," Daigo said, scanning the scaffold with a grin. "And that's the point. You're learning to fight without fighting. To coordinate. To see from the top down. A shinobi who can build…" He tapped a thick log with one knuckle. "…can break things better."
Tazuna, passing nearby with a set of nails, laughed warmly. "I never thought I'd say this, but having Leaf ninja around might actually save this bridge."
Daigo winked at him. "I mean come on, was there any doubt?"
Tazuna laughed at that, however his joy would result in the opposite for another.
______________________________________________________________________________________
The scent of imported incense did little to mask the sweat and fear hanging in the air of Gato's lavish estate.
The informant trembled just past the doorway — soaked, panting, mud clinging to his sandals. His cloak, meant to conceal him in the mist, was torn and stained.
He'd run.
"Say that again," Gato growled, voice quiet but sharp as broken glass.
The man swallowed. "Th-The bridge—it's… it's flying. The rate of construction today alone outpaced the entire last month! They're not just working — they're speeding it. The shinobi offer help. Lifting timber like it's nothing, multiplying, scaling beams — it's like an army of carpenter demons…"
Gato's pupils shrank.
The informant continued, words spilling in panicked gasps. "If they keep this up, Tazuna won't even need a full week. They'll be done in four days—maybe less."
CRASH!
Gato hurled his wine bottle across the room, shattering it against a wall of velvet drapes.
"FOUR DAYS?!" he bellowed. "FOUR?! That flea-bitten drunk was supposed to be dead weeks ago!"
The man flinched.
Gato stormed toward the windows, seething as the rain slicked the glass, the distant sea snarling in response.
"Zabuza… that miserable, blade-swinging savage! I knew he'd failed when the blood money came back untouched. But I thought—at least—they'd stall. Delay him. Scare off the Leaf freaks…"
He turned, face twisted in pale fury.
"But no. No. That old rat gets backup from Konoha, and suddenly the gods themselves are building that damn bridge!"
The silence lingered. Then Gato's rage slipped into something else. Not calm. Terror.
"…if that bridge finishes," he muttered, stepping back into the room. "If the Land of Fire's nobility gets their return on investment, then they've got a permanent trade line. And I've got nothing."
The informant said nothing.
Gato grabbed the side of his head, teeth grinding. "You think I can just blow it up? Set a charge and hope it collapses?"
He laughed. Short. Hollow. "I'd rather slit my own throat than try that."
The informant blinked. "Sir?"
Gato looked up, eyes bloodshot and gleaming. "Do you have any idea who signed off on that bridge's construction? The Fire Daimyo himself. The nobles poured millions into that concrete skeleton. If one plank gets burnt, if even a rumor comes back to them with my name attached? They'll send a Hunter-Nin task force to burn my empire to the ground."
He sat heavily into a velvet-cushioned chair, sweat dripping down his temple.
"No," he whispered. "Tazuna doesn't need a sword to kill me. All he has to do is hammer the last nail. That will be the sword that'll take off my head."
Silence lingered.
Then, a question. Quiet. Careful. "…what do we do, sir?"
Gato didn't answer immediately. Just tapped his ringed finger against the table, staring at the floor. Eyes sunken. Face ghost-white.
"I'd hire Kakuzu if I had the coin," he mumbled bitterly. "But that bastard charges enough to buy a small country."
A beat.
"Zabuza better be alive," he growled, voice shaking. "Because if he's not… we're all dead."
Meanwhile,
The scent of boiling herbs clung to the air, bitter, pungent, but healing.
Zabuza opened his eyes slowly. It felt like the skin of his eyelids had been welded shut by flame. His breath came low and tight, like someone had shoved a boulder into his chest and told him to breathe around it.
The pain was duller now. But it was still everywhere.
"Here," Haku's voice murmured gently.
He glanced sideways. Haku knelt beside the straw bedding, holding a bowl of thick stew — shredded meat, rice, and broth infused with crushed root medicine. His hands were steady, but his eyes were ringed with exhaustion.
Chakra exhaustion.
Zabuza growled but didn't argue. He couldn't. The moment he tried sitting up, a hundred bruises flared across his ribs and spine. Even his thoughts felt sluggish — like his brain had been beaten into mud.
Haku helped him drink.
Silence hung between them for a while — the quiet intimacy of battlefield survival. The kind that didn't need to be named.
Zabuza glanced sideways, eyes narrowing at the wooden barrel by the wall. The water inside was murky, almost black, thick with blood. Floating within was the shattered remains of Kubikiribōchō.
The once-mighty cleaver blade had been snapped like brittle glass.
Chipped. Cracked. Broken in half. Only left with its handle, guard a little bit of its steel with cracks EVERYWHERE. The rest was probably in that forest crater where Haku picked him up from.
"Still breathing, huh?" he muttered toward the blade, voice rough. "I guess that makes two of us."
Haku chuckled softly. "Barely."
Zabuza tried to scowl, but his face still ached from the impact. He reached up and wiped his mouth, staring at the ceiling of the dimly lit safehouse. His limbs still felt like wet sandbags, but he could feel the edges of his strength crawling back.
Not soon enough.
"That sword technique of his…" Zabuza muttered, voice distant. "It wasn't just raw power. It was like every damn instinct in my body screamed death before it hit me. Never felt anything like that before."
Silence. Then:
"…you were lucky," Haku said softly, stirring the stew again. "If you hadn't used your sword to shield yourself… I don't think you'd be here."
Zabuza glanced again at the barrel.
Kubikiribōchō, the Immortal Blade.
It had soaked in enough blood to begin mending itself, slow regeneration through the iron of its victims. One chip, one splinter at a time. The blade was healing, just like him. Both scarred. Both unfinished.
"Still," Zabuza murmured, "I should've been dead. That monster's stronger than any jōnin I've seen. And those eyes… I don't know how he was sensing me, I knew he was a sensor. The bingo book made it clear, but I never..."
He stood silent for a minute before turning to Haku. "I don't like fighting people I can't figure out."
Haku nodded. "So what now?"
Zabuza sighed, and it came out as a gravelly cough. "Gato still wants Tazuna dead. And he's got the money to keep whining until someone listens. But we're not getting another shot at him with that psycho still watching the old man's back."
"…then we give up?"
"No," Zabuza growled. "I'm not doing this for Gato. You know that."
Haku's eyes lowered. Zabuza clenched a fist — the pain flared, but he didn't release it.
"Wave matters. Not just because of the bridge. If Tazuna connects this place to the Land of Fire, we lose it forever. But if the rebellion can use Wave — as a supply chain, a covert port, a damn lifeline…"
He looked up, eyes hard and clouded.
"…Mei can last another year. Maybe longer. That bridge isn't just a threat to Gato — it's a threat to the rebellion. We can't let it finish."
Haku was quiet for a moment. "…but if that shinobi is there, how do we stop it?"
Zabuza didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the sword again — the edge of its black metal beginning to reform beneath the surface of blood.
"It looks like it's time to cash in that favor," he murmured. "Fetch me ink and scroll."
Haku vanished, obeying without question. Zabuza sighed.
"…this is going to be a pain.."
Tazuna's House – Evening
The table creaked under the weight of the evening meal: steamed rice, stir-fried vegetables, and freshly grilled lemon shark, its meat golden and crisp on the outside, juicy within. Tsunami moved gracefully around the table, refilling bowls and flicking Naruto's hands away from stealing extra portions before everyone had their share.
"Patience, Naruto!" she scolded playfully.
"But it smells so goooood," he groaned, practically vibrating in his seat.
Tazuna barked a laugh, his cheeks pink from the sake Daigo had poured him earlier. Even Inari, the perpetually silent, gloomy boy, had cracked a smile when Naruto spilled a spoonful of rice trying to show off a "leaf balancing trick" that flopped spectacularly into Daigo's lap.
Daigo, of course, just chuckled, unbothered, brushing the grains off with a grin that never quite left his face.
Dinner went on with cheerful noise, casual teasing, and a surprising sense of peace. For a household once cloaked in sorrow, laughter had returned like a long-lost sibling.
But as the conversation drifted from the day's work to shinobi stories, it was Naruto — of course it was Naruto — who suddenly leaned forward with a curious glint in his eye.
"Hey, Daigo-sensei… What's the deal with your sword?"
The room quieted.
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. Sakura blinked, surprised she'd completely forgotten about that part of the earlier fight. Even Inari looked curious.
Naruto gestured animatedly. "I mean—come on! It's black! Not like painted black or dirty black—like it's made of black metal or something! And it doesn't chip or break! Even when it clashed with that Zabuza guy's huge sword!"
Daigo glanced down at the blade resting beside him, leaned against the wall. He patted the hilt like one would a well-behaved pet.
"This?" he said, voice smooth. "This beauty's mine. Her name's Okozai, she's one of a kind."
"So can I get one?" Naruto blurted, eyes wide. "If I train really hard? Can I make a black sword too?"
The grin Daigo wore twitched upward — a fond smile curling beneath the shadow of something deeper.
"You can try," he said simply.
They blinked. But he didn't elaborate. Not yet.
Later that night, team 7 was tucked away in their rooms, lying on futons spread out across the floor. The wind rustled softly through the window paper, and outside, the faint hum of crickets sang under the moonlight.
Naruto stirred.
"…Sensei," he mumbled, breaking the calm. "You said your sword was one of a kind…"
Sasuke turned slightly. Sakura sat up, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. Daigo was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, the sword resting on his shoulder.
He looked at them with a thoughtful air before stepping inside, letting the weight of his presence settle into the dim-lit room.
"You really want to know?" he asked.
The three nodded — even Sasuke, though he did it like he wasn't too interested. Daigo set the sword down across his lap, crouched like a storyteller by firelight.
"Alright then. But listen close," he began, voice low and deliberate. "Because what I'm about to tell you isn't a Jutsu. It isn't a clan technique. It's not even a hidden technique."
He tapped the dark metal of the blade.
"Okozai used to be regular. Well, not cheap regular. It was forged in the Land of Iron by some of the best smiths they've got. Took a damn fortune to make. Strong. Sharp. Cold. I spent all my life savings on this, no regrets."
He paused.
"But even the finest blade's just metal until you do something more with it. Until you connect with it."
Naruto tilted his head. "Connect?"
Daigo nodded slowly.
"A real connection. Spirit. Will. I lived with this sword. Fought with it. Trained with it. Bled with it. Pushed it past its limits, and it pushed back. And somewhere along the way, something changed. Not with the sword."
He placed a hand on his chest. "With me."
Sakura's eyes widened a little. Sasuke stared, quiet but focused.
"I don't know what to call it. Not really a technique. Maybe a 'bond.' Maybe something older than any scroll you'll ever read. But one day, I woke up and it was black. Pitch black. Like it had soaked in everything I'd been through. Everything I am and embodied it."
His fingers drummed against the blade's surface. "Not paint. Not ink. It's black because my will is. Because it refuses to break. And as long as my will holds strong…" he smiled, eyes glowing faintly, "so does this sword."
Naruto whispered, "…that's so cool…"
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. "…is it chakra-based?"
"No," Daigo said. "Chakra's fuel. This is the soul. You can't fake it. You can't shortcut it. It's the kind of strength that doesn't show up in Jutsu manuals."
Sakura furrowed her brow. "But—if this is possible, why don't other swordsmen have black swords?"
Daigo's grin widened, but there was sadness in it. "Because most don't take the blade seriously. Not like they should. Even in the Land of Iron, only a handful truly walk with the sword. Most people treat it like just another tool. Like a kunai, or a tag."
He stood slowly, the black sword sliding back onto his back with a quiet clack.
"Swords are alive, kids. You treat 'em like steel, they stay steel. But if you treat 'em like a part of your soul…"
He turned toward the door.
"…then maybe — just maybe — they'll become something more."
The moonlight seeped in through the window slats, painting thin streaks across the wooden floor. Team 7 sat in the dim room, scattered across their futons and blankets.
Naruto was still grinning, bouncing a pillow on his lap like a ball.
"So that's what makes his sword black, huh? Willpower. Spirit. That's so damn cool..."
He looked over at Sasuke and Sakura, waiting. Sakura's brows were furrowed. Not in confusion — in reflection.
"It's not just the sword, though," she said slowly. "It's him. He doesn't move like a shinobi, he doesn't fight like one either."
Sasuke's eyes shifted toward her. "He doesn't act like one either."
Naruto nodded slowly. "Yeah... it's weird. The missions, the way he walks, the way he talks — like that time with the cart…"
His face lit up a little with awe, remembering. "That cart. I thought I was gonna die from the speed."
Sasuke allowed himself a half-smirk. "I remember your scream."
"I wasn't screaming! That was tactical breathing."
Sakura rolled her eyes, but smiled. Then she added,
"He unsealed a war cart, hooked it to two boars, and then drove us like we were on some kind of ancient battlefield."
She shook her head. "Who even does that?"
Naruto shrugged, grinning now. "Daigo-sensei."
"That's not shinobi thinking," Sasuke muttered. "It's not about deception or subterfuge. He doesn't sneak, he charges."
He looked up toward the ceiling again, thoughtful. "He's not a ninja. He's... a warrior."
Sakura nodded in agreement.
"A full-blown battlefield monster. It's not just his sword — it's him. His way of life."
Naruto leaned back. "You think that's why he made that black sword? Because he lives like that?"
Sasuke was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again, this time softer.
"He's strong because he lives in total alignment with what he is. There's no pretending. No mask. Everything he does, from fighting to cooking stew, is the same energy. Pure. Uncompromising."
Sakura tilted her head, processing that.
"So you're saying his strength comes from... consistency?"
"Conviction," Sasuke corrected. "A kind of... absolute will."
Naruto looked at his own hands. "He said that the sword became black from his spirit being poured into it..."
He clenched his fists. "I wonder if we could do the same. Maybe not with a sword — but with something."
Sasuke's lips twitched again, just slightly. "If you ever get serious, maybe."
Sakura chuckled. "We'll see who gets their 'soul weapon' first."
"Mine's gonna be a kunai the size of a house!" Naruto declared proudly.
"That's not even practical," Sakura deadpanned.
"You're not practical!"
They all laughed with the exception of Sasuke's chuckles. The tension broke and it didn't take long for them to go to sleep, however a seed was planted in each of them. They would remember this.
The Edge of Wave – Tazuna's Home, Late Evening,
The wooden door closed behind Daigo with a quiet clack. The night air was cool, humid with sea breath. Mist curled against the trees. No full moon tonight — just a half-circle hanging pale over the bay.
He looked up at it anyway.
"Hmph," he scoffed softly. "She always said I look better under moonlight…"
A brief smile touched his lips.
Then it faded. A wince. Kurenai.
"I'm gonna hear it from her if I don't write something."
He reached into his sleeve, pulling out a roll of parchment and an ink brush, then paused.
The wind shifted. Not physically — spiritually.
A vibration. A wrongness. Two presences, brushing faintly along the edges of his perception. Shadows moving through trees. Careful steps. Suppressed breath. One heartbeat racing. The other is calm — too calm. A killer's rhythm.
They were approaching Tazuna's house.
"…Ronin."
Daigo's face fell into a half-lidded look of annoyance. Mercenaries. Not shinobi. No chakra suppression training. Their stealth was passable, but not to him.
And more importantly?
"No goodwill in either of them."
He stood still beneath the trees, eyes closed, senses cast out like a net.
No other life signatures in the village perimeter. No trap squad. No lurking Jounin waiting to ambush.
"Huh. Just those two? Gato's either desperate… or stupid."
Or both.
And this is where the true depth of his gift unfolded: The Shingan Kairo, also known as the God-Eye Circuit.
A technique born not of talent, but of terror and excitement. Made out of desperation to stay alive and excitement to keep on fighting. He was crazy even as a brat.
He had created it as a child, back when he was still an academy brat, barely tall enough to hold a kunai, and already conscripted to join the Third Great Shinobi War.
He had no clan. No Kekkei genkai. No secret technique passed down through generations. And he was alone, nobody would pay attention to the civilian kid that was too strange to talk to. Too manic with his grin.
The only thing he had was his unnatural Yin and Yang chakra affinity and a constant, gnawing fear of dying meaninglessly on some bloodstained hill. Yet also the desire to feel and experience actual battles while grinning at the danger.
He wouldn't say he was some genius or prodigy, something most people called him in his youth. Something that made him roll his eyes so damn hard they hurt. He was not a prodigy, he was a visionary.
Having a sensing capability wasn't really common but it wasn't hard either, you could train to be chakra sensitive, although being born a natural sensor would be better.
He wasn't born with that talent, but what began as raw instinct grew into calculated divination. The God-Eye Circuit wasn't mere chakra sensing. It was an evolution of it — a Yin-Yang construct of will and soul.
It saw chakra not just as energy, but as intent. It read the emotion woven into spiritual signatures. It heard killing intent as clearly as thunder. And it also predicted danger, as if he sees a couple of seconds into the future.
Even in his youth, it saved him from death countless times — warning him of ambushes, letting him feel hatred from behind walls, betrayal before it struck. However the main boon of this technique and any other technique he made? They evolve with him
Now? As a grown man? He could sense emotions across countries if he wanted to. He could see minutes into the future, and it wasn't chakra exhausting to use.
Tonight? It told him everything he needed to know.
The two ronin moved through the treeline toward the house, whispering like ghosts.
"You take the woman, I'll silence the old man first."
"Think they got coin in there?"
"Even if they don't, we send a message. Burn the place down after."
They stopped just before stepping onto the dirt road. One crouched to ready a smoke bomb. The other readied his blade.
And then—
"Hello there."
The voice came from behind them. A wave of pure killing intent hit like a tidal wave. One turned—and screamed.
Daigo stood over them like a shadow dragged from legend. Eyes gleaming with faint glow, his will pressing down on them like gravity. His hands relaxed, but the sword on his side hummed.
"Cute plan," he said with a smile. "Shame you suck at it."
The mercenaries drew their blades in blind panic. What followed wasn't a battle. It was a correction.
Screams echoed through the forest. A crow startled from a branch.
Thirty seconds later, Daigo stood over the two unconscious bodies. One gurgled softly through a shattered nose. The other twitched and muttered something about ghosts.
Daigo crouched and rifled through their pockets. Letters of payment from Gato.
He snorted, then took the scraps and stuffed them into his sleeve.
"Should've brought twenty more, Gato," he muttered. "Even then…"
He stood up again, looking back toward the house. The lights were still warm. No one stirred.
"Tch… I'm gonna need way more parchment if this keeps up."
Next morning – Somewhere Along the Shores of Wave
The candlelight flickered weakly. Damp walls. The scent of medicine. A basin filled with blood sat at the corner of the room, a massive barrel, to be exact, and within it lay Kubikiribōchō, now in one piece but still heavily brutalized.
Slowly knitting itself back together like a monster regenerating from a wound. Iron drawn from blood. Like the man it belonged to, the blade was broken, but recovering.
Zabuza sat propped up against stacked crates, his breathing low and steady. Bandages covered most of his body. His arms were mobile now, but his torso still ached like hell. Even then, the Mist Demon of Kiri didn't whimper, he waited, stew in one hand, his other gripping a rag to wipe the sweat off his face. Haku had just left to fetch more hot water.
And then came the knock. The door creaked open without waiting for a reply. Gato.
Smug as ever, with two towering mercs behind him, clearly meant for intimidation. His cloak reeked of perfume and dried sweat. The fake smile on his face was starting to tear at the edges, like a mask worn too long.
"Zabuzaaa~! There you are. I was starting to think you'd died in that mess!"
Zabuza didn't even look up. He sipped the stew.
"I should've," he muttered. "Would've spared me the sight of your rat face."
Gato's smile twitched.
"Tch. Cute. But I'm here to talk business. Or maybe... your failure. You were supposed to kill the old man, and now I'm left cleaning up the mess."
At that, Zabuza barked a bitter laugh. His voice was still hoarse from the fight.
"Cleaning up? You sent two mercs to take care of the same man who put me in this state."
He set the stew aside and looked up at Gato, eyes blazing behind the bandages.
"You think those halfwit ronin were gonna scratch him? You're dumber than you look."
The taller of the mercenaries snarled, stepping forward. Gato smirked again, though sweat beaded faintly on his brow.
"For someone with busted ribs, you sure talk big." He gave the merc a nod.
"Go ahead. Show him what happens when people talk back to their employer."
The brute stepped forward, hand rising—
Snap!
The merc didn't even register the blur before his arm was twisted behind his back and sprained clean. A second merc shouted and reached for his blade.
Too slow. Another blur. A twist of the wrist. Another scream. Both mercs now cradled their arms like wounded children.
Standing in front of them was a new figure, masked, slender, elegant.
Haku.
"Don't touch Zabuza-sama."
His voice was cold and resolute, almost melodic in tone, and for a brief moment, something lethal passed between him and Gato. The businessman recoiled, eyes wide.
Then—
Pressure.
It wasn't a sound or movement — it was pure killing intent. Like a guillotine hovering above Gato's neck.
Zabuza, even wounded, glared. "Next time you pull something like that, Gato… Make sure I'm actually dead."
The sheer force of malice made Gato stumble back, heart thudding against his ribs.
"Y-you…!" he stammered, visibly sweating. "Just… get your shit together! The bridge'll be done in less than four days! You hear me?!"
Zabuza took a long, rasped breath. His response was calm, too calm.
"That's gonna cost you extra." Gato blinked.
"W-what?"
"More than we agreed. I called in a favor. Help's on the way."
Gato's blood turned to ice. Because at that moment, he felt it.
A ripple of energy — presence — intent just behind him. And then:
"Heeey Zabuza! You look like shit!"
Gato spun around and there he was.
A man with waist-length brown/green hair with bangs falling down his cheeks, blue eyes with darker ripple around the pupil. and full dark lips that displayed a toothy grin like thunderclouds parting before a storm.
Dressed in grey hooded mantle with a dark-brown sleeveless vest falling to his knees where the inside was purple, light brown belt, light gray pants and, similar to Zabuza, bandages covering most of his body, his neck to his chest, including his arms and his shinbones.
A pair of twin swords crackled faintly with static where they lay strapped to his back. And over his shoulder? A nest-like burlap sack, carefully tied… containing something, or someone.
The man chuckled as he stepped past Gato like he didn't even exist.
"This guy paying you in paper bills, Zabuza? Damn, how the mighty've fallen."
Gato opened his mouth, trembling. "W-who—?! What's the meaning of this?!"
Zabuza exhaled like he was trying to breathe away a headache.
"Additional help."
Gato staggered back. "Wh-who?!"
"That," Zabuza rasped, "is Raiga Kurotsuki. Another one of the Seven."
Raiga grinned. He stepped inside like he owned the place. He smelled of ozone and blood.
"...So." Raiga turned to Gato. His expression twisted with exaggerated curiosity. "You the little bug paying for this circus?"
Gato's face paled. Raiga got close. Too close. Smirk twitching. His breath smelled faintly of copper.
"Lemme guess. You hired Zabuza cheap, thought you could bully him around once he lost a fight. Brought muscle to rough him up. Real smart. Real alpha."
Gato gulped, but said nothing. Raiga leaned in, voice like cracked glass.
"If you ever lay a finger on him again-" He raised a finger. Lightning crawled up it with a snap.
"-I'll feed you your own teeth, raw."
Gato bolted, nearly tripping over his mercenaries, both still clutching their arms like bruised dogs. They didn't even wait for orders — they followed their master like rats leaving a sinking ship.
The door slammed. Silence lingered.
"I was wondering when you'd finally cash in that favor," Raiga said before eyeing the blood-filled barrel and the fractured form of Kubikiribōchō with mock sympathy.
"Damn," Raiga muttered. "Didn't think I'd see that sword in such a sorry state, not after what happened between Yagura and Juzo."
He whistled, genuinely impressed.
"Looks like you met someone who doesn't care about myths."
Zabuza said nothing. The silence was heavy — shared between broken men, killers of the old world, watching as the game changed faster than they could heal.
Raiga eventually grinned, cracking his neck.
"Well then, partner," he said. "Let's remind the world why they feared us."
Zabuza closed his eyes. "…Just don't get in my way."
Haku's eyes lingered on the strange man in the room, then trailed to the sack, It twitched slightly.
"What's that?" Haku asked flatly.
Raiga, stepping over to a clear wall, slid down into a seated sprawl.
"That's Ranmaru. Don't worry. He's better off in there than anywhere else."
Then he flashed a grin at Haku.
"And you must be the pretty needle-boy Zabuza mentioned. Nice mask."
Zabuza sighed. "Raiga, I swear if you say one more thing that makes me regret this—"
Raiga held up his hands. "Fine, fine! I'll behave. Mostly."
Then his face grew still. Eyes narrowed.
"Now tell me. What the hell happened out there? You don't break that sword unless you meet something nasty."
Zabuza finally leaned back, breath hissing out between his teeth.
"...A Leaf jōnin. Daigo Guretsu."
Raiga blinked. Then he chuckled.
"You're shitting me."
Zabuza didn't laugh. Raiga's grin only widened.
"Now that's interesting. The "Silver Boar" himself... been a while since I heard that name. You think he'd mind if I introduced myself?"
A Quiet Spot by the Riverbank – Late Afternoon
The sun was low on the horizon, bathing the trees and the nearly-finished bridge in golden light. The scent of saltwater mixed with sawdust carried on the wind. Nearby, Tazuna's workers took a break, laughing and sharing water flasks. Just a little further off, Team 7 was gathered on a flat boulder under the shade of a crooked pine tree. Daigo leaned against the trunk, arms folded, as Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke sat in front of him, nursing their own canteens.
They were dusty, sweat-soaked, and tired. But their eyes were sharp. Alive. Focused.
Daigo's tone was relaxed, but there was an edge behind his grin.
"So. Two mercenaries tried to sneak into Tazuna's house last night."
Naruto blinked. "Wait, what? When?!"
"Late. They were decent at stealth. Would've fooled civilians," Daigo said, adjusting his sword as he sat down. "But they weren't shinobi. Just bandit scum dressed like samurai. I had fun with them. They'll be drinking soup through straws for the rest of their lives."
Sakura's expression darkened. "Gato sent them, didn't he?"
Daigo nodded. "Desperation makes cowards bold. But this? It's not just about Gato anymore. That bridge…" He pointed with his thumb toward the massive skeleton of wood and steel stretching across the sea. "It connects Wave to the Land of Fire. Funded by nobles. Approved by the Fire Daimyō himself. Which means..." he looked each of them in the eye, "...this mission is no longer a C-rank. Not even close."
Sasuke's brow furrowed. "At least mid A-rank, given the politics and the enemies involved."
"Correct," Daigo nodded. "Protecting Tazuna isn't just helping some drunk build his dream anymore. It's protecting a national investment. A political asset. Which means if we fail…" He let the silence hang. "We don't just lose a mission. Konoha loses face. And worse? We leave a strategic foothold open to someone like Gato, or worse."
Naruto looked unsure. "I get that it's important… I mean, I think I do. But it's just a bridge, right? Why's it such a big deal to all these nobles?"
Sakura turned to him. "It's about power, Naruto. Trade routes, economic control, access to foreign ports. This bridge gives the Land of Fire a route that bypasses Gato's monopoly. That's millions of ryo in trade that won't go into his pocket anymore."
"Exactly," Daigo added. "And if you think Gato's pissed about that now? Wait until the bridge is done. He'll have lost everything. Which makes him dangerous."
Naruto blinked, then clenched his fists. "So… he's like a cornered rat. That's when they bite the hardest, right?"
Daigo smirked. "Now you're getting it."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "Zabuza. He's the real problem. Gato's desperate, but Zabuza isn't a rat. He's a damn tiger. If he makes a move, it won't be stupid. It'll be deadly."
"Which is why," Daigo said, "from now on, we rotate guard shifts around the house. Two-person rotations. I'll take the overnight again—Naruto and Sakura, you take the evening. Sasuke, you're with me after midnight."
Naruto raised a brow. "Wait—you're doing shifts too, sensei?"
"I'm your commander, not your babysitter. I carry the same load you do. Sometimes more." Daigo leaned forward.
"This is where shinobi work stops being flashy and starts being heavy. Think like warriors, not kids. We're in the thick of something that could shift entire economies. If we screw this up, the Land of Fire loses an outpost, Konoha loses standing, and people die."
That sobered the three of them. Even Naruto.
Sasuke looked up, his tone calm. "If Zabuza has allies, they'll come soon."
"They will," Daigo said with certainty. "Which is why we'll be ready."
The wind shifted. The bridge's framework creaked in the breeze like bones being set.
Sakura adjusted her gloves. "I'll draw up a patrol grid for the woods surrounding the house."
"I'll double my clones tonight," Naruto offered. Sasuke was already checking his wires and tags. Daigo just smiled.
Damn he was a good teacher.
Early Morning,
The mist was lighter today, a pale gauze drifting between the trees. Naruto was crouched by the riverbank, washing his face and rubbing sleep from his eyes after an early patrol. The scent of wet leaves filled the air, and nearby birds chirped lazily in the branches.
That's when he heard soft footsteps approaching. Not stealthy—casual. Civilian. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing slightly.
A figure was approaching from the forest trail. A beautiful young woman…? No—wait, it was that person from the market yesterday. Long dark hair, a gentle face, and dressed plainly. But today they were carrying someone on their back—a thin, sickly-looking boy wrapped in a blanket and burlap, clinging to their shoulder like a limp doll.
Naruto stood, cautious but not hostile. The two didn't radiate any danger. If anything, the person seemed too calm, too ordinary.
"Hey!" Naruto waved. "You lost or something?"
The person turned slowly. Their face was soft and gentle, framed by long dark hair. Beneath the brim of the hat, the stranger smiled.
"Ah... I was just getting some water. My little brother is unwell. He needs rest and fresh herbs."
Naruto jogged over, crouching beside them. "Oh, wow. He looks like he's been through a lot…"
The small bundle shifted and a faint voice murmured, "I'm fine. It's just my legs. They don't… work like yours."
Naruto blinked, scratching his head awkwardly. "Man, that sucks… Sorry."
The older teen nodded. "He's… delicate. I found him some time ago. His village was destroyed. Gato's men."
Naruto's brows drew together. "Gato again…"
Ranmaru looked at Naruto, studying him with oddly sharp eyes for someone so frail.
"You're strong… but sad."
Naruto scratched his cheek, a bit thrown off. "Heh… I guess I get that a lot."
There was silence for a moment, then the teen sat down beside Naruto, carefully letting Ranmaru rest beside them on a patch of soft grass. Naruto joined them.
"You're a shinobi, right?" they asked.
"Yeah, from Konoha."
The teen nodded. "Shinobi are said to be tools. Blades made to follow orders."
Naruto looked uneasy. "That's what they say. But… my sensei says there's more to it."
"Is there?" the teen asked, gazing toward the misty horizon.
"I think so," Naruto said, frowning in thought. "I wanna be strong. Like… really strong. But not to hurt people. I wanna protect people close to me. Even if I have to fight and bleed. That's what makes the Hokage strong"
There was a pause.
"Exactly," the teen said, voice distant. "True strength isn't born from hatred. It grows from love. From the desire to protect someone precious."
Naruto smiled. "Yeah! That's what I think too!"
Ranmaru looked up at them both with quiet wonder, as if the concept of protecting others was still strange and fragile to him.
The older woman gently brushes the hair from the boy's eyes. "I've made many mistakes. But protecting someone… is the only thing I still believe in."
The wind passed through the trees again.
Naruto looked down, thinking about his friends, about Sasuke, Sakura, Tazuna, Inari… Daigo. He understood a little more now.
After a moment, he stood. "Hey, what's your name?"
The teen stood too, lifting Ranmaru back onto their back with surprising ease. "Haku, this little one is Ranmaru.."
Naruto tilted his head. "You're kinda weird, y'know. But really cool. You remind me of someone… kind."
The teen smiled again. "Thank you. Oh… one more thing."
"Yeah?"
She turned slightly, their face half in shadow. "I'm a boy."
"…Eh?" Naruto blinked, brain short-circuiting.
From within the branches of a tall cedar tree nearby, hidden behind a veil of leaves and his own spiritual suppression, Daigo Guretsu had been watching.
Arms casually folded, back leaned against the trunk, his eyes had tracked every word and gesture exchanged between Naruto and the strange teen who had appeared with the frail boy on his back. His senses, honed to a razor's edge, buzzed faintly.
That presence…
He didn't need confirmation. The older one — the one Naruto was chatting with — had the exact spiritual signature of the one who snatched Zabuza away during the foggy chaos of their first real skirmish. That chakra, its rhythm and undercurrent, was impossible to forget. Calm and kind on the surface… but cold steel underneath.
"They're good," Daigo mused to himself, the grin widening slightly across his face. "Mask or no mask. This group is sharp."
His gaze dropped toward the smaller one, the sickly-looking child nestled in the teen's arms. That signature was different. Odd. Fragile. This one was strange. Not aggressive. Not malicious. But twisted. Like something that had been hurt too many times and was now curled up to protect itself.
"Now what are you, little ghost?"
Daigo tilted his head as Naruto suddenly screamed.
"W-Wait—YOU'RE A GUY?!"
Haku, unbothered, just walked away with calm grace — no killer instinct, no shinobi movement. Just that faint civility. Daigo chuckled, one hand covering his mouth to keep from laughing aloud and giving himself away.
Down below, Naruto was going through a full system crash.
"WHAAAAAAAT?!"
The blonde was frozen in place, mouth open, brain stuttering. His foot shifted like he was about to chase after them, then paused, then paced in a small circle, rubbing his hair furiously.
Daigo finally dropped from the branch with perfect silence, landing in the grass behind him like a feather. Still grinning ear to ear.
"Yo."
"GAH!" Naruto spun around, clutching his chest. "SENSEI! DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!"
Daigo was already mid-laugh, shoulders shaking. "Heh heh heh… 'She' huh? That was beautiful."
Naruto puffed up, flustered. "W-Why didn't you say anything?!"
Daigo scratched the side of his neck. "Because watching you go through all five stages of grief in ten seconds was hilarious."
Naruto groaned, turning away with a huff. Daigo, still smiling, turned his head toward the fading trail where Haku and Ranmaru had vanished.
But at that moment, the grin dropped just a little. His eyes narrowed.
So… Zabuza brought backup. A tracker-type and a weird sensor… or support maybe?
He clicked his tongue, gaze sharpening.
The game's changing.
He placed a hand on Naruto's head, ruffling his hair. "Come on. We need to regroup with the others."
Naruto whined. "I'm never gonna live this down…"
Daigo just laughed again, already walking. "I might even paint it into a scroll. 'Naruto's First Crush: A Memoir.' Has a nice ring, don't you think?"
"SENSEI!!!"
Late Morning, Final Day of Construction,
The rhythmic clang of tools, cheerful shouting, and the creak of scaffolding echoed over the water. The sun was bright, the air cool with sea breeze, and the great bridge, that symbol of hope for the Land of Waves — was nearly finished.
Tazuna wiped sweat from his forehead, his hands thick with dust and steel shavings. His workers were laughing, pounding in the final support beams, hammering down nails, shouting jokes.
"We're almost there, old man!"
"Haha! Buy us a round when we're done!"
Tazuna grinned wide, eyes shining behind his glasses. "You bet your asses I will! This bridge—this dream—is getting finished today!"
But just a few meters back, the energy was different.
On the edge of the construction site, far from the celebratory mood, Daigo Guretsu sat cross-legged on the concrete. Still. Silent.
He wasn't meditating in the traditional sense. His muscles were relaxed, but his mind was pulsing like a web of light spread across the land and sea. It drank in information, emotional currents, fragments of chakra signatures, tension in the wind.
Next to him stood Sasuke and Sakura, quiet and poised. Sasuke's hand hovered near his kunai pouch, his eyes flicking to Daigo now and then. Sakura's brow was furrowed, her posture tense.
When Daigo got quiet like this… something was always coming.
Suddenly, Daigo's eyes snapped open.
"Four," he said flatly.
Sasuke's head whipped to him. "Four?"
Daigo's voice was calm, but clipped. "Four incoming. Fast."
He slowly stood, cracking his knuckles, his expression sharpening.
"Three I recognize. One of them is Zabuza with his savior. The second… the one leading... I don't know him. But he feels just like Zabuza. No, worse. Like lightning wrapped around a powder keg, he also has someone on him."
Sakura tensed. "What do we do?"
Daigo's voice turned cold. "We evacuate the bridge. Now."
He turned toward the workers, raising his voice just enough to carry.
"Tazuna! Get your men off the bridge, now! Evacuate toward the village! You stay though!"
Tazuna blinked, confused, but then saw Daigo's eyes. Eyes that were never wide with alarm.
"GO!" Daigo barked.
The laughter and hammering stopped instantly. The workers didn't argue. Tools hit the ground, crates were left behind. Tazuna shouted orders and began herding the men away, but not fast enough.
Daigo's body shifted slightly, one hand instinctively falling to the hilt of his blade.
And then it hit — a pressure, a pulse in the air that warped the air around it.
CRACK-BOOOOOOM!!!
A massive bolt of lightning surged from the misty treeline across the bay, tearing through the sky like a spear of raw energy. It came in fast, loud, and merciless — arcing straight for the central support beam of the bridge.
The intent was clear.
Destruction. Annihilation. Erasure.
Sakura gasped. Sasuke's Sharingan flickered to life. And Tazuna's eyes widened as he was the only one that stayed on the bridge, it was for his protection.
And Daigo—
His eyes narrowed.
"So that's how they're starting this."