The Loss of One
A Naruto Fanfiction
Disclaimer: Everything but the idea of this story is other people's property.
A/N:
Though "Behind the Curtain" is making a good progress, it will never be finished before I am leaving all of my work behind for a six-week-trip to China.
The Story is set ten years before the begin of the story, meaning the majority of the crew is two years old right now.
Enough babbling, enjoy!
The Loss of One
Swirling the Kubikiri Houchou around his head, the so called "Demon of the Hidden Mist" danced the dance of death inside the fogbank, forcing everybody to join him, whether they were willing to or not.
A sharp, inhaling sound, to his left revealed the position of his next target.
Taking one step in the direction of the sound, and another to stabilize himself, he brought his sword down for the killing blow.
Momochi Zabuza enjoyed his work.
He always did.
Completing the arc, he used the remaining momentum to behead an opponent he had located before.
The only sound that was audible was the thud of two, headless bodies hitting the ground, followed by their respective heads only a second later.
The Mist ninja smiled beneath his face mask; as usual his hits had been done in the perfect angle and with such speed and force, that the blade of the zanbato remained pristine; no blood was running down to reveal his position to the observant ones among his victims.
"Where are you, you fucking bastard? Stop hiding and come out and fight like a man."
The shout was all an experienced killer like Zabuza needed.
His target was to his right front, 60 degree angle, probably eleven feet away.
Flitting into that direction, he detected and killed another man; again there were only two thuds to be heard.
Fourteen, so that squaller is the last one.
The stalker closed the distance between him and his preys back within a few seconds Standing there, his sword raised to shed blood, he stopped and enjoyed the brief moment.
He heard his victim breathe, not calmly but rapid and unstable, panic had gotten a hold on the man.
He smelled the stench of sweat along with an odd smell that resembled pinewood.
He felt the changes in the air when the man spun around, trying to see when there was nothing to see, and failing to hear what could not be heard.
He could nearly taste the fear that plagued him.
It was these moments that gave Zabuza the thrill he needed; his target's life in his hands.
The sound of sobs made him clench his teeth.
This pathetic scum was called "Elite Guard", commanded to ensure the safe return of Kumo's ambassador, twelve chosen ones from Kumo and two guides from Kirigakure no Sato.Those two had been the first to die. Reanimating his frozen muscles he stabbed, and smiled when he felt the zanbato go through the shinobi's armor without resistance.
Lifting his impaled victim upwards with only one arm, the hunter smiled and spoke for the first time since the slaughter had begun.
"There is no need to fight like a man in a world of shinobi. Too bad you forgot that."
Flinging the dead body off his weapon, he allowed the mist to vanish and walked towards his real objective.
The ambassador was still in the same place he had been before Zabuza had started his attack. The fear he radiated was more than visible, even though shivering or tears wouldn't stop him, it might stop weaklings from other countries, but not him.
He was Momochi Zabuza, one of the last remains of the Village of the bloody mist, one of the old elite.He had faced death and given death while kids in other countries were still playing with their toys. He had succeeded and had become of the mightiest weapon the village had to offer, one of the Seven Swordsman of the Mist.
The stench of urine made his nose twitch. The pathetic creature had seemingly lost control of his bladder in the shape of what was to come.
Embarrassing the assassin thought.
Bridging the remaining distance with a few quick steps, the mist demon towered above his victim like the incarnation of death that he was The ambassador, Toryu Seiji cowered in front of him, his legs no longer able to hold the weight of his body.
Seiji was a gaunt man and the prominent cheekbones and dark rings beneath his eyes only accented that.
His once pompous clothing, now stained with his own egests coiled around him like a beggar's rags. It was true, it didn't matter how much wealth you would pile up during your lifetime, as soon as you face death there is nothing that remains.
Though he enjoyed killing, he had never felt the need to torture people excessively long.
In fact he was only able to torture those who were inexperienced since his only way of harming his opponents sanity was to never let them know when and where he would strike.
To hear your comrade's die, killed by an enemy you couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't smell and only feel when it was too late was enough to turn strong and mighty men into whimpering children.
Zabuza lifted his sword. The Kubikiri Houchou glinted in the sun, the formerly pristine metal now stained with the blood from it's last victim.
"Please don't kill me. I am an important man. I have money. I ha…have power. What do you want? Do you want Money? I can give you more than you could think of. Do you want power? I can give you power. Or do you want something else? Women may…"
The steel sung the sweet song of death as it came down in a wide arc, so sharp that it cut the air on its way down. The blade thirsted for the blood of the maggot and Zabuza had been more than willing to grant the wish.
He laughed.
The insanity that had gotten a hold on him ten years ago during the slaughter he had caused came back.
Killing people made him feel good. It was like a drug. He had killed from early ages on and the poison that came with ending lives was strong, strong enough to never want to miss it.
Laughing he kept on hacking the corpse apart.
Blood splattered left and right, coating him in the sticky red liquid. The laughter turned to hysterical screeching as body parts and stone splinters flew past him.
As he regained consciousness he was standing above an unrecognizable piece of flesh.
The demon broke down, crying, clutching the mighty cleaver as if it would be the only thing that kept him from falling into depths he never wanted to explore.
If someone had come by in that moment he could have either killed him without resistance or would have had to face a merciless monster. The chances were even. The pathway between sanity and madness was small and it was easy to fall.
He heard the voice in his head. The sword was talking again, giving him advice, telling him to calm down, to fight the devil inside. It gave him power, supported him, and saved him from falling. Without that sword he was nothing but a bloodthirsty beast, ready to kill anyone daring to oppose him.
Falling on his knees he lowered his head against the weapon.
"Domo arigato, sensei."
The moment he had received the message from the Mizukage, which ordered him to the Mizukage's Hall instead of the office, he had a bad feeling in his gut.
In a world of brutality and betrayal you either trust your inner feelings or you die.
Momochi Zabuza only survived that day because he did.
On entering the hall, the doors were closed and locked behind him. Spinning around he stared into the grinning face of Hoshigake Kisame, his worst rival.
The blue-skinned man was accompanied by his other six brothers. The shark man wasn't the one to speak though; it was another one, Kurosuki Raiga.
Unlike Kisame, he wasn't smiling and his voice was dead serious as he spoke.
"This time you have exceeded your limit's Zabuza. You are accused of high treason against the Hidden Mist. On command of Mizukage-sama we are here to arrest you in the name of justice."
Zabuza's facial expression was somewhere in between confusion and anger.
"What bullshit are you talking Raiga, what have done to deserve that?"
"You are accused of slaying Kumo's ambassador along with twelve of his and two of our guardsmen. I have observed the scene myself and the way those men were slaughtered has your sign on it."
"Brothers, this is ridiculous. The Mizukage himself has given me this task as an A-Rank mission. The Hidden Cloud is growing overly confident; they were to be taught a lesson. They…"
"SILENCE, TRAITOR" Raiga's booming voice cut through his attempt of explanation like a thunderbolt.
"I don't care about your lies. You will hand over you weapon and surrender to us. Otherwise we are authorized to execute you on the spot."
His mind was spinning, he couldn't think clearly. It was an intrigue, it had to be. It was a plot to get rid of him. But why? The Mizukage was involved. But why? He had always been a faithful servant. Why would the leader want to get rid of him?
He started running.
When Raiga finally reached the end of his tether and commanded the attack, the real Zabuza had already left the village and the clone behind, untraceable even for the hunter ninja as Kisame's screams of pure hatred proved.
Standing on a cliff high above Kirigakure no Sato he looked back on the village that had been his home for sixteen years and silently vowed to return one day and seek revenge.
And so began the legend of one of Kiri's most wanted criminals. A legend written on the lives of people, with misunderstandings, tragedy, treason, sadness, pain and blood being pen and ink. A legend, which would end ten years later on the wet stones of the Great Naruto Bridge.
He would never know that in the very year that had earned himself the well known nickname "Devil of the Hidden Mist"; the son of the Mizukage had been among the slain.
The Loss of One
- End -
A/N:
This story has originally been born during one of my writer's blocks at the second chapter of BtC where I just wanted to write something were the focus is more on action and that is shorter. Epics have the tendency to beat you down with the sheer massiveness, everyone who is writing or has written one knows what I am talking about
Great THANKS to Specter von Barren for having a merciful look at my spelling ;)
During my trip I will probably find some time to continue working on BtC but don't bet on it. Expect the release in like two months (a long time, I know but RL comes first )
The rest is the same as usual and everyone who knows my after words will probably sigh now,
Since you have already wasted a certain amount of your lifespan to read this story, I would be most grateful if you would take yourself another minute to review.
Tell me why (if) you liked the story. Tell me why you probably didn't like it, what you would like to see improved and so on.
Serious criticism is desired. (And I mean that!)