Wave Country was a tiny, tiny nation.
No rich resources. No convenient trade routes. The people here survived on the most basic livelihoods—fishing, gathering, scraping by on the sea's mercy.
Forget a shinobi village.
Even traveling shinobi passing through on missions were rare.
"To claim statehood on land this small… this world is absurdly tolerant of the weak," Momochi Zabuza said with open contempt as he looked down from above at the island—more a speck surrounded by ocean than a "country."
"Don't say it like that, Zabuza-san," Hōzuki Mangetsu replied lazily as he surfaced nearby, half his body still in the water. For a member of the Hōzuki clan, this wet, salt-heavy air was practically heaven.
"Maybe it's not 'tolerance.' Maybe it's because this place is so useless and weak that nobody even bothers to argue with whoever declared it a country."
"Otherwise," he added with a languid grin, "this job wouldn't have fallen to kids like us."
"Fourth Mizukage-sama called it a 'side errand,' sure… but if we write it into our mission record…"
"Toppling a nation with just three people? That's something we can brag about."
The tallest and oldest of the three—Hoshigaki Kisame—sounded almost cheerful as he assessed the prospects.
"Ha. A 'country' that's basically a fishing village," Zabuza snorted. "I could take it alone."
"I told you, Wave is just garnish for the real assignment," Mangetsu said, rising to stand atop the sea as moonlight glittered around him. He bared a mouthful of sharp teeth.
"Or is it that our target still hasn't shown, so your hands are itching for a fight?"
"If that's the case, I, Hōzuki Mangetsu, can accompany you anytime."
"Fine," Zabuza said, already grinning with the eager arrogance of someone who only knew one language—violence. "You're one of the candidates the Fourth picked for the next Seven Ninja Swordsmen."
"Before we become real comrades, let me test your quality, genius of the Hōzuki clan."
Watching the two problem children drift toward the open sea—clearly about to start trading blows—Kisame sighed. His face looked monstrous, but the expression on it was pure exhaustion.
"Handing me two brats who can't control their impulses… Fourth-sama really knows how to make my life difficult…"
Even though Kisame, like the other two, had been selected as a candidate for the next Seven Ninja Swordsmen, his temperament was far steadier.
He strode forward in a few long steps, planting himself between them.
"After the mission is done, you can cut each other as much as you want. I won't interfere."
"But right now, put away your childishness."
"I'm not letting our first mission under the Fourth end in unnecessary risk because you two want to swing at each other."
"Oh?" Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying you're stronger than me?"
Killing intent seeped from him like fog, the silhouette of a demon taking shape behind his back.
Mangetsu, the youngest and most playful, only fanned the flames.
"Kisame-san is the team leader Fourth-sama personally appointed."
"If he's someone acknowledged by that man, then surely he's the strongest among us."
"Why not show us?" Mangetsu laughed. "Let us witness Fourth-sama's judgment firsthand."
"Sounds good," Zabuza said, drawing the massive blade strapped behind him—a weapon forged to mimic the form of the Executioner's Blade. His eyes gleamed.
"If you're a shinobi recognized by Fourth-sama, then you won't mind using strength to establish your absolute authority in this squad, will you?"
"…Sigh."
Kisame exhaled, long and slow.
Then he drew his own sword.
"Brats really do need discipline…"
"…But the target is close."
"I'm not letting her get taken back while you two play."
"Target?" Mangetsu frowned and instantly dissolved into water with his clan technique. "How did you notice?"
"Heh." Kisame's grin widened, sharklike and unsettling. "A shark's sense for blood is sharp."
He turned toward the sea—calm, glittering under moonlight—his gaze becoming serious.
"About ten are approaching."
"Five of them smell like blood."
"We can't confirm which one is the target, so orders are to capture as many alive as possible."
"If you two get carried away and cut down the one Fourth-sama wants…"
"…I'll feed you to sharks myself."
"Save the lecture until you catch more targets than I do," Zabuza shot back, already sprinting across the water.
As he ran, he formed seals—his most trusted jutsu.
"Water Release: Hidden Mist Jutsu."
Soundlessly, dense fog rolled across the already humid sea, turning the moonlit water into something dreamlike.
But inside that dream, a hungry demon moved—giddy with anticipation, ready to baptize his newly forged blade in enemy blood.
Mangetsu's approach was even quieter.
He became a single drop of seawater—formless, everywhere—riding the ocean swells as he drew near the group headed for Wave, coldly picking the best angle to strike.
Seeing both of them move, Kisame cracked his neck.
He leapt up from the sea, formed seals for Water Release: Exploding Water Shockwave—
And with a sudden surge, a massive wave rose like a living wall.
He rode it forward, a ten-meter tide roaring toward the blood-scented targets.
…
"Mitarashi Anko—you can't escape. Stop resisting!"
"Come back with us, Anko! You haven't followed Orochimaru for long, and you're still young. The Third and Fourth won't hold you fully accountable!"
"Anko! Are you going to betray the village that raised you? Have you thought about the consequences?!"
The voices behind her kept coming—warnings, persuasion, anger.
But Anko didn't stop.
Even with several bleeding wounds torn into her body—each step staining the sea beneath her feet red—she kept running.
The curse mark burning on her neck squeezed her body for more strength, wringing out power it had no right to give.
And Orochimaru's words echoed in her skull like a spell.
"Go… to Wave…"
"As long as you can reach that place…"
"You'll still… have value…"
"I won't… be… a useless thing…"
"I won't be… meaningless…"
Shink—!
More shuriken screamed through the air.
Anko heard the wind and tried to dodge by instinct—
But her bloodloss-ravaged body refused to obey.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
They hit her back, her thigh, her arm.
Her limbs went numb.
Her balance snapped.
And she fell—
Plunging into the ocean.
Now, Wave's shoreline was less than three hundred meters away.
…So close.
I really am worthless.
I was at the last step…
…and still failed Orochimaru-sama's command.
If that's the case…
Dying in the sea doesn't sound so bad.
At least I won't have to face everyone again…
…as a captured traitor who failed to run.
Staring into the dark, endless world beneath the surface, Anko clung to that thought with the last scraps of consciousness she had.
Then—before she blacked out—
she saw a shape of water that felt… different from the sea around it.
It wrapped around her.
…A hallucination?
How could water in the ocean look different from other water?
That was the last thing she wondered—
before her eyes closed.
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