The vast majority of 2010 was a dark place for me. From March onward, I went through what I'm pretty sure could be considered a quarter-life crisis, unsure of who I was and what I was doing, and whether or not any decisions I had made over the course of my two decades of life were the right ones.
It took me a long time to reconcile the fact that mine was not a unique case, that I was doing not only myself a disservice for doubting myself and my choices, but those around me, and those who know me. You, who have read my work on this site for so many years, who have remained faithful in spite of my sporadic update schedules, have every right to feel insulted. I forgot you. I forgot me. I forgot why I started this project—and every other project I've ever had—in the first place.
Those of you who follow my other stories will have heard parts of this story before; I beg you forgive my repetition. Know, however, that while 2010 was mostly the precise opposite of a positive experience, it's taught me a lot about myself, about why I make the decisions that I make, and what that means for me, and those connected to me.
In the spirit of that, I have refused to allow myself the luxury of only updating this story and any others once, or twice a year. I'm better than that, and you deserve better than that. Hence, I will begin to do what I should have done in the beginning.
I will be updating this story once a week, henceforth. The chapters will be shorter than those which came before them, but with the shift in frequency, I hope that that may be forgiven. The first half of the major Haku/Zabuza fight is contained here, and the second half will be completed and posted next Saturday. You have my word on that.
Furthermore, I have begun a blog, "In Cold Blood," which will contain every update to any project online that bears my name; whether it be this story, original fiction, nonfiction articles, or artwork. Those of you interested in the rest of my work, I would greatly appreciate it if you looked it over, and gave me your feedback. ICB can be found at www(dot)icedblood1986(dot)blogspot(dot)com. It is also the homepage linked to my profile. Take a look, and hang out for a while.
With that said, enjoy the chapter. I'll see you all next week.
"I don't know how long he spent training yesterday, but considering how soundly he's sleeping now, I think it's a safe bet that he wore his body out to its limit."
Kakashi looked at Gaara with a noncommittal expression on his face. "I see," he said. "Well, we'll let him sleep for now." He flexed the fingers of his right hand. "We'll manage for the day. Hinata."
"Yes, sir?"
"At the slightest hint of mist, use your eyes. We can't afford to be caught blind. You are our eyes. We're counting on you to be the first warning; awareness is the foremost form of defense." Kakashi's own eye narrowed. "Understand?"
Hinata's face was resolute. "Yes, sir."
The jounin nodded. "Good. Gaara, you will be our second line of defense. I know your sand is heavier in this environment, but this is exactly why we've insisted on training your body just as much as your gifts."
Gaara nodded.
Tsunami watched the three ninja with apprehension bordering on hope, and near to the teetering point. This was what she had been waiting for, what her home had been waiting for, and it seemed to finally feel real for her. She smiled.
They could all hear Naruto's snoring from the back of the house. It was a wonder that he didn't wake himself. Even in his sleep, he defied any and all preconceived and accepted notions of what it meant to be a ninja, and the frightening part of it all was, it was working. He'd had a rocky start, to be sure, and hadn't they all? He hadn't died yet, no one had died around him, and that was the only real way to gauge the effectiveness of his approach.
Truth be told, the longer he spent with the explosive future Hokage (it was still laughable right now, but the laugh was becoming less forceful and more forced by the day), the more Kakashi thought they needed more ninja like him. Tradition was all well and good, but there was a fine line between tradition and inflexibility.
Naruto laughed at tradition, and he spat on inflexibility.
And that was one of the reasons Kakashi had agreed to take him on in the first place, although he wasn't sure he'd realized it at the beginning. Whether he had or not, though, he knew it to be true now.
The other two looked sufficiently rested. Well, Hinata did; Gaara looked just as rested as he always did—which was to say, he didn't. Kakashi gave a signal, and they vanished. They knew where they were going. Kakashi glanced over at Tsunami who, by the look on her face, hadn't quite yet gotten used to the idea that children could move as quickly as these children could. He said, "Naruto won't listen if you tell him I ordered him to rest for the day. Try to see if you can't put him to work. So long as he feels productive, he should be fine."
Tsunami nodded, her smile widening. "Got it." She seemed pleased.
Kakashi nodded back.
"This is where it happens," Zabuza murmured under his breath, barely audible for the bandages. "Everything comes to this. From the look of it, seems like there'll be a fight for you, too, Haku. You'd better be prepared."
Haku smiled pleasantly. "I'm always prepared, Zabuza-sama."
The demon sighed, but said nothing this time. He turned his eyes to the bridge, the last bastion of hope this godforsaken water-hole would ever have. Zabuza had no qualms about destroying the hopes of the common folk; he was here to do a job, and morals didn't come into it. Still, a part of him turned his nose at just how petty his employer was this time. Gatou was a confusing man; he had all the arrogance of a god, yet Zabuza could think of a multitude of ninja—ninja he, himself, had sent to their graves—who could have overthrown the fat little troll with one arm. He had followers, that much was true, but most of them were worth about as much as the dust they kicked up when they "set to work."
Zabuza considered the implications of taking on Gatou himself, once this job was over.
It stood to reason that a man as paranoid as Gatou kept his best men as personal guards. Zouri and Wajari hadn't been around Haku for all of five seconds before wetting themselves. In light of that, he didn't think it would be all that difficult to claim Gatou's empire for himself, given proper planning.
It was true he didn't have much of a head for business in the strictest sense, but he didn't much care if the business withered and died. Gatou irritated him, and that was enough reason to ruin everything with his name on it.
"You look excited, Zabuza-sama."
Why?
It was the logical question, and Zabuza heard it in the boy's voice even though he hadn't specifically asked it. But he didn't speak. They still had a job to do, still had an enemy to worry about, and he wasn't much interested in adding a thousand others into the mix.
Yet.
"Separate them," Zabuza said. "They'll rely on the girl. Keep her attention. Isolate her."
Haku's dark eyes twinkled with amusement. "Of course, Zabuza-sama."
Before, when he'd been younger, it had been necessary to give Haku instructions. It never took him long to grasp a concept; even at a handful of years old, he'd been quicker on the mental draw than most people. Still, he had needed direction at first. He'd known how to use his gift, to some degree or another, all his life. But how to harness it, how to bring it to fruition…how to make it a weapon…that had taken time. Instruction.
That was no longer necessary.
Momochi Zabuza was a resourceful man. He was as observant as he needed to be; he preferred the exhilaration of the unknown, and took it when he could afford to take it. In the case of Haku, he saw just enough in the young exile's eyes to know that words were no longer necessary. He knew everything. He knew what Zabuza would tell him before he said a word, rendering the instruction useless.
The demon gave the slightest of gestures.
They both vanished.
They walked in a triangle. Tazuna was flanked by Gaara and Hinata; Kakashi took up the lead.
The mist gathered almost immediately, before they'd even set foot on the bridge. "You are our defense," Kakashi whispered as he stepped into blindness. "Gaara. Your sand will shield our charge and our eyes. Focus on that. That is your job. That is your life. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"What about Naruto-kun?" Hinata asked.
"He won't like it," Kakashi said, "but if we can end this while he remains with Tsunami and Inari, we should count ourselves lucky. We all risk our lives. He'll have plenty of chances to do it with us on other missions."
"…And if we should die here?" Gaara asked.
"Then he will live. And he will avenge us. And he will return home."
There was no point in asking what happened if Naruto died, as well. There was no point in discussing total failure. There was nothing past that, nothing that mattered and nothing that bore discussion. They all knew this, and so the question didn't even come up. They continued along onto the bridge, and some part of the entire situation was darkly comedic.
This was a land of mist. A world of it. Fog wasn't an omen here so much as it was a neighbor. None of them were sure if Momochi Zabuza was dead or not, in fact they had more reason to believe he was dead than they did he was alive, and yet they continued to move as though stepping onto a minefield.
It seemed as though, since Kakashi had mentioned the possibility, they'd all accepted it as cold, hard truth. And maybe it was better that way. Safer. Smarter.
…More interesting.
Uzumaki Naruto was a deep sleeper
Usually this had to do with the fact that he liked to run himself into exhaustion before finally passing out wherever he happened to collapse.
But he was also a quick riser.
He woke that morning to find himself alone in a room that was entirely too large, and he all but leaped out of it and jettisoned down the hallway until he ran into Tsunami.
"Where'd everybody go?" he demanded, pushing up his sleeping cap as it fell over his eyes.
Tsunami smiled. "Your commander said it would be better if you stationed yourself here for today. Take it easy for a while."
"They ditched me?"
The woman's smile widened. "We need someone here to keep an eye on things," she said lightly. "The others are helping my father and his workers. Could you maybe stand guard here for me and Inari? Please?"
Naruto blinked. "Stand guard," he repeated, looking like he'd never considered the idea before. "…O-Okay. Sure." He puffed out his chest. "Yeah," he said, suddenly finding a grin. "Stand guard. I can do that. You bet."
"Thank you," Tsunami said. "It's been a long time since any of us has felt safe around here."
Naruto nodded again, winking. "No worries. I'm on it!" Any thoughts of his team leaving him out, or his own having gotten up late, left him entirely. None of that mattered anymore because he had a job to do.
And he intended to kick the holy hell out of it.
He began to patrol the house with a look on his face that was half-smirk, half-grimace; as if he were forcing himself to be satisfied with his assignment. But the strange part about Uzumaki Naruto—not that he knew this himself; he wasn't much for self-analysis—was that that was all it generally took for him to be satisfied with an assignment.
It didn't take him long before he was starting to show off. Kicking off walls, jumping up and trying to touch the ceiling with his foot. There wasn't anyone in particular he was showing off for, except himself. If he'd been thinking about it at all, he might have said that he was doing it for no other reason than to prove that he could. So engrossed in his impromptu training was he that he didn't notice Inari watching him from his bedroom doorway.
As Naruto approached the boy's room, he shot back inside at the last moment. If Naruto had been a typical ninja, he would have noticed. As he wasn't typical by any stretch of the definition, however, he didn't. He simply poked his head in later, looked around, and saw Inari standing off to the side. For a long moment, they looked at each other silently, neither bothering to say anything.
Eventually, Inari asked, "…Where are the rest?"
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "Protectin' yer grandpa."
Something resembling a smirk visited the boy's face, and Naruto wasn't sure he liked it very much. "…They ditched you," he said softly. Normally, Naruto would have scoffed, or tossed out a caustic retort, but there was something unnerving about the level of satisfaction on the kid's face, and it had the blond off-guard.
He said, "They asked me to stay here 'n look after you 'n your mom. They didn't ditch me. And why do you care, either way? You don't seem all that convinced we're good for a damn thing, anyway."
"You're not," the boy muttered. "There's no point, you being here. Grandpa wasted his time."
"Well, lemme ask ya this," Naruto said, crossing his arms, "let's say you're right, and there's no point'n us being here. Right? So…what's the problem? No skin off your teeth, right? Just…don't mind us. Let us do our job, we'll get outta here, and you can go back to being mopey."
"You're not getting out of here."
Naruto smirked. "What's the point of thinkin' that way?"
"What's the point in thinking a different way?"
Naruto uncrossed his arms and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. "Keeping your sanity." Inari stared at him. "What's the point of going through life miserable? What's the point of crying your way through the day? Who wants that? Who deserves that? I don't have time to think I'm gonna lose. I'm too busy thinkin' about how awesome it's gonna be when I win."
The expression on Inari's face would have been more at home on an owl. "…What…are you talking about…? You can't win! Gatou's going to kill you! All of you! There's no point in fighting! You're just going to lose!"
"You keep talking. All I hear is blah-blah-stupid-crap-blah-blah…you might wanna work on that."
Naruto recognized the look on the boy's face. It was the look of someone who had no damn clue what he was talking about; Naruto was used to that sort of expression, honestly. He got it most often from Hinata's kid sister, actually, and he wondered in the back of his mind if it was just something they'd understand when they got older.
Then again, a lot of older people gave him that look, too; alongside a heaping helping of condescension, like he didn't have a damn clue what he was talking about, either. So maybe Inari and Hanabi were just…similar. They both did have a certain quiet anger about them.
Though Naruto was certain that Hyuuga Hanabi had ten times the steel in her spine that Inari did. Naruto'd seen Inari crying openly a few times; he'd never seen so much as a tear fall from Hanabi's grey eyes. Thinking about it, though, those eyes had gone a bit misty on the day of her big sister's graduation.
"Listen, kid—" Naruto began.
"Don't call me kid! You're a kid, too!" Inari shouted, almost shrieked.
"No," Naruto said, strangely somber. "I'm not. I'm a ninja." He tapped the metal plate on his forehead. "Day this was put on me, I gave up being a kid. I can't use that anymore. I can't give up anymore. I can't sit around and let other people, older people, take care of things for me anymore. You can, yeah. You still can. But you know what? I never had a mom. But fi I did, I'd want her to be like yours." Inari's eyes widened a bit, then narrowed suspiciously. Naruto went on: "I wouldn't want her having to take on anything else on top o' what she's already got. You lost your dad, and no one's faulting you for bein' sad, and angry, and lost. Anybody'd feel that way. But that includes your mom. She lost 'im, too. It ain't all about you, y'know. She's gotta deal with all the loss, all the guilt, the betrayal, whatever other crap you got churning around inside you right now, and she's gotta look after you. 'Cuz that's what moms and dads do. 'F I were you, I'd wanna make that part easy. I'd wanna be there for her. Not the other way around. She's been the strong one all this time. Don'tcha think it's time you stepped up?"
He hadn't intended to give a sermon. He'd thought all he was going to do was check on the kid and keep on his patrol. But this defeated, misanthropic—he'd learned that one from Shikamaru—"feel bad for me 'cuz we're all doomed," attitude was starting to grate on his nerves. Especially whenever he looked at Tsunami's lined, pretty face; and the heartbroken guilt he could see carving new lines into that face whenever she saw her son sulking. That wasn't right. It just…wasn't.
Inari was crying again, and Naruto had to fight down an urge to slap him. "I…I…can't! I'm not strong, not like Dad! Not like Grandpa! I'm...weak!"
"So?"
Inari blinked, stared. "Wha…what?"
"So what?" Naruto asked, scowling. "Who cares? That don't matter for crap. People called me weak. I called me weak. What you do is you take that weakness, you look it right in the eye and you say, 'Screw that, and screw you. I'm protectin' my mom.' And you do it. And if you get beat down, you get back up. If you bleed, you rub some dirt on it and you get back up. You break your leg, you grit your teeth and you get back up, and you soak in that pain. And when it's all over, Mama'll be there to make it better. And when you're sittin' there, and you feel her kiss your forehead and mess up your hair, you'll know: you protected her. You did that. 'Cuz that's what men do. Babies cry. Kids let their parents do the work. Men step up. Men protect. That's just how it works."
"But what if…what if I…die?"
Naruto's scowl turned into a haunted, distant frown. "Then you make damn sure she's alive to grieve for you. Alive and angry, alive and sad, alive and lonely and cold and hurting and guilty…is still a helluva lot better than dead."
The boy was scared.
Of course he was. Naruto had had it drilled into his head from just about day one that he'd more as like end up dead in the service of his village, younger more likely than older, and he'd grown up with that. He'd come to grips with it.
Inari hadn't.
And he shouldn't have. That was part of the job: giving up the rest of his childhood so that kids like Inari could stay…kids. And really, there wasn't any reason to be expecting this from Inari in the first place. Tsunami was a good mom, and Tazuna was a good grandpa. They did their jobs. They kept Inari safe so that he could grow up halfway normal.
Naruto had asked for this. Inari hadn't.
But all the same…
"I know it sucks," Naruto said. "Yeah. We could die. World like this, that's always an option. But that don't mean we hafta lay down and wait for it. If I'm gonna die here, on this mission, then I'm gonna die doing my job. I'm gonna go up to Heaven, and I'm gonna find your dad. And I'm gonna tell him I did my damnedest to protect his girl, and his boy, and then I'm gonna find my dad and my mom, and I'm gonna look them in the eye. I'm gonna say to them, 'See that? I did that. I lived for something. I died for something. Just like you did.'"
And Naruto found a grin.
Like always.
"I'm…I'm scared."
"Of course you are. Me, too. I don't wanna die. But that's part of it. That's always a part of it. You have to take that fear, mold it, sharpen it up, and use it like a weapon. Don't let it take you down. Use it to pull yourself up. And say, 'Fuck yeah. See? I did that. I did that. I'm the king. Eat that.'"
Inari still didn't look convinced.
Naruto shrugged, winked, and started walking. "You stew on that," he said, feeling like he'd just given a lecture, and he wondered if this was how Iruka felt after class was over. "I'm back on patrol. You wanna take what I said to heart, 'n step up to the plate, you let me know." He turned back to the boy and winked. "Nobody said strong meant alone."
They didn't speak. They simply appeared; one tall and broad, one short and lean.
Hinata remembered a lesson in Iruka's class on the original shinobi, the first clan of ninja in the modern sense of the word. Their abilities had been almost entirely devoted to the art of stealth. Genjutsu, the art of illusion, had once been paramount to all ninja, and combat jutsu would have been as foreign to them as the tactics of samurai. The shadows of death, laymen had called them. Swift and silent as the Reaper's breath. Any and all identifying marks had been swathed in blackest cloth and armor; they had attacked at night, and no records of their appearance had survived; no one with the knowledge to record their appearance had survived.
Hinata thought that if they had looked like anyone…they had looked like the pair in front of them.
They weren't dressed all in black, and the big one was far more revealed than the original shinobi—with his chest bare and his matted, tangled hair covering his head instead of a cowl or hood—but all the same there was…nothing.
They could see half of Zabuza's face, but in spite of that it felt like they could tell more about the personality of the demon's companion, whose face was covered by a painted, expressionless mask.
"And so the truth reveals itself," Kakashi said in a soft voice. "I would pretend to be surprised, but I find I'm a bit tired today. Crick in my neck. Sore joints. You know how it is." He tapped his headband, where his left eye lay beneath it. "More a curse than a gift sometimes. Draining."
No trace of emotion crossed Zabuza's face. He didn't speak.
He vanished.
It appeared behind Tazuna, staring straight at Hinata. She didn't gasp, didn't cry, but made a slight gesture before sending the heel of her left hand straight into the exile's bare, well-muscled chest. Zabuza didn't feel human. There was no real substance pressing back against her hand; the flesh felt like some sort of gelatin. No bone gave honest resistance.
As she sent two fingers of her free hand straight into the thing's neck, a wall of sand engulfed it, crashed into the ground, and went dark as the water clone exploded.
She made the gesture again as another Zabuza shot out of the mist heading straight for Kakashi. The silver-haired veteran raised a knife almost lazily, slashed out the creature's cloth-covered throat. Water splashed across the Copy Ninja's body like clear, cold blood.
Hinata straightened her right hand and sent it barreling through the third clone's chest like a spearhead.
They continued to come, one after another, in what felt like an endless gauntlet, each coming from a different direction, each trying a new tactic, but each of them fell. None of them could hide from a Hyuuga's eyes.
Hinata turned her head to face the real Zabuza, hidden by the others from the mist. She screwed up her courage to speak. "You're playing with us," she said. It crossed her mind that this ninja could have slaughtered her in a heartbeat if he'd decided he wanted to do it. He had experience; real-world, brutal, savage experience. She might be dead already, and she just didn't know it yet. Her mind hadn't caught up with what her body already knew.
"The mind is a target, just as much as the body," said the demon's protégé, still standing idly in front of them, as casual as any civilian waiting in line for bread from a local bakery. "The heart, as well. The heart is Gatou's favorite target. My master's is the mind."
Gaara stared at the boy. "And yours?"
Hinata could see the boy through the mask, saw the muscles that pulled his lips into the slightest of smiles. "Whichever proves most efficient." Her heart beat. "For example…" came the boy's voice—silky, innocent, almost effeminate—from just behind her ear, and she stiffened when she realized he wasn't standing in front of them anymore. She hadn't seen him move. He hadn't moved. She would have seen it.
And yet…
"…The eyes."
She felt a sudden sharp sting, slight but cutting, tiny but burning, and all the world went black.
He heard them approach when he was checking the pitiful backyard of the house, which might have once been a garden. He spied the skeletons of what could have been flowers or vegetables. Naruto wasn't exactly a horticulturist—and wouldn't have recognized the word, anyway—and all he really knew was that it was kind of pathetic. Pitiful. Sad, and infuriating.
When he heard them, his first thought was that his team had come back for him. Maybe they'd needed his help, after all. It wasn't really much of a surprise; he was a hero, after all. He decided that he'd let them off easy. This time.
Then he heard the explosion.
Without thinking, Naruto vaulted up onto a back windowsill, scrambled up the top of the window with his other foot, and did a species of chin-up to pull himself up onto the roof. Sneaking/stumbling across the flat-toped wood thatching, feeling like the star of his own action movie, he was wondering what the hell could have made the sound when he heard voices.
"…Just need one little hostage, y'know. Nothin' personal. Well…guess it is, since you're the old bone-sacks' daughter. Sorry 'bout that. Tough luck, huh?"
"You could go easy, 'f ya want," said another, deeper voice. "'S no skin off our teeth."
"If you go hard…well, we'll cutcha. Can't kill ya, not in our orders. Boss wants you alive, so's you can—" He stopped.
"W…What are you doing to my mom?" Inari shouted. He sounded terrified. Terrified but…resolute. Naruto found a smile. Good man, he thought.
The first one, who had a scratchy kind of voice—almost squeaky—said, "Get on outta here, kid. Got no use f' you. We got our hostage."
"Oi, Zouri," said the deeper voice. "Should we, ah…handle the witness? Can't have anybody warning the old man. Right?"
"…Yeah. Get rid of him. Sorry, kid. Change of plans."
"No!" Tsunami shrieked. "Don't you touch him! If you lay one hand on him, I'll bite off my tongue! I'll choke, and I'll die, right here! I swear it!"
"M-Mom!"
"Inari, go! Get out of here! Please, baby, run!"
"But…b-but…!"
"Thank yer mom, kid…and beat it," Zouri spat.
"Quick. Before we change our minds."
There was a beat of silence, broken only by Tsunami's terrified, breathless sobs: "Please…my baby…my baby boy…run…"
And then…
"…No." Inari's voice was firm. Strong. Still scared, but still resolute. "No. I'm sorry, Mom. But…I'm not running. I'm…I'm going to protect you. I'm going to…to be a hero. Like Dad. Like Grandpa. Like…like you." The boy drew a deep breath. "Get. Away. From my mother."
Naruto heard them move. He couldn't hear much, couldn't tell exactly what they were doing, but he knew they weren't going to bother listening to any more pleading or monologuing. The time to act—the time for the hero to make his Grand Entrance—had come.
Naruto grinned.
He shot across the roof, slid down onto his knees and grabbed the edge, throwing himself out and swinging around through another window. What most didn't know about Uzumaki Naruto was that he could, in fact, be as swift and silent as any master shinobi, when the need—and the inclination—truly arose.
Zouri and Waraji definitely looked like the sort of men who would kidnap women and threaten children. They were dressed in ragged civilians' clothing; Zouri in a baggy sweatshirt and ragged pants, Waraji shirtless with what looked like prison tattoos covering his upper body. The blades they carried were immaculately crafted—the work of a master—but even Naruto, who knew as much about swordsmanship as he did about flying, could tell that these two didn't know what they were doing with them. It was an insult to the weapons themselves, and the fact that they were probably too dense to realize or care about that just made him realize all the more that Gatou, whoever the hell he was, was a hopeless, disgusting little insect.
Naruto didn't often think about things like that, but...
They didn't seem to know what to do with him. He looked at them, winked, and clicked his tongue. "Hey-hey, there, boys," he said in a peppy, happy little voice, like he was greeting long-lost friends at the market. "Ain't that nice? You brought new knives. That's cool, y'know, 'cuz we were tryin' to use Tazuna's old knives to chop up vegetables for dinner, and…" he tsked, "gotta tell ya, not the best tool for the job. Figure you could help us out? Tsunami makes a killer beef stew."
That momentary lapse in concentration was all the opening Naruto needed.
He was moving, zigging this way, zagging that, and just as Zouri slammed his blade down, slicing a huge gash in the floor right where Naruto had been standing, he blond genin hopped up, kicked the would-be samurai's shoulder for leverage, and sent himself barreling straight into Waraji, who didn't even have time to bring his own weapon up to block.
Naruto popped back onto his feet and sent a whirling kick straight into Zouri's middle. Beautiful, meticulous steel clattered to the floor. Naruto didn't even bother to check, dropping down just as Waraji's blade made to slice through his neck, and slammed a stiff leg right into the thug's ankles, sending him right back to the ground again.
He heard Inari scrambling for something, sprang backward and landed in a handstand, pushing off the floor and soaring right over Zouri's head. He kicked the back of that head, greasy and grey and thick with stupid, and Zouri went sprawling.
The boy who planned to be the next savior of the Hidden Leaf spun, leaned down, and scooped up his enemy's discarded sword. When he was back on his feet, thinking wildly back to Iruka's lessons and cursing the fact that he'd never bothered to pay attention when it came to swordsmanship, he saw that Inari had had the same idea. He'd picked up Waraji's sword and was gripping it in both hands, gritting his teeth and doing his level best to ignore how heavy it clearly was.
He shot between the two of them, and stood stolid in front of Tsunami, who was staring openly. Inari drew in a deep breath and said, loud and authoritative, "This is our home! This is our land! Our water! Run back to your boss and tell him we're taking it back!"
Uzumaki Naruto felt a swell of pride not unlike a father's, and nodded. He stepped forward, Zouri's weapon in one hand, and held it up, lifting its owner's chin with the tip. "You heard the man," the blond all but purred. "Get outta here. Can't kill ya. Not in our orders."
He winked, and pressed the blade against the bare flesh of Zouri's neck, drawing a bead of blood. "I'd suggest ya get out quick. We got no better clue how to use these things 'n you do. We can't stop at injury."
And there it was.
Fear.
Zouri scratched and clawed his way to his feet, and tore out of the house. Waraji, though, clearly the more daring (or loyal, or stupid) of the two, stood up slowly. He spied Tsunami, staring openly at him, and made a move for her, thinking perhaps that if he got hold of her, he could force Inari to drop his sword.
Naruto thought he was probably right.
But Inari screamed, and sent the blade in a downward arc that nearly took the man's left arm right off at the shoulder. Waraji swore as he pushed himself backward, landing flat on his back. "Little bastard!" he snarled.
Naruto sighed, shook his head, and tossed his own sword aside.
"This is stupid," he muttered. "I got no damn clue how to use a frickin' sword." He turned his eyes on the remaining samurai, all traces of mirth gone from his face. "I'm fast runnin' low on patience with you people. Your buddy's a coward, but at least he was smart enough to take a hint. 'Parently you're not that smart. I'll have to beat it into you."
He held up his hands in a very familiar sign.
"Kage bunshin no jutsu!"
Kakashi didn't know exactly what Haku had done to Hinata, but he didn't have to know specifics. "Protect her!" he hissed at Gaara, and went on the offensive. He remembered that, before apparently losing her sight, Hinata had been staring in a very particular direction when she'd said, "You're playing with us."
He didn't know if Zabuza was arrogant enough not to have moved, but he figured that it was a good enough place to start. He watched as the younger exile turned his attention to Gaara, saw out of the corner of his eye as the red-haired genin sent a shield of sand in front of Hinata, and Tazuna rushed over as it formed a small dome. Both of them disappeared.
"Now, now," said the ex-ANBU boy, and Kakashi heard a smirk in that voice, "that's not quite fair, leaving her out of the fight. Her esteem is low enough as it is, don't you think?"
He knew that Naruto would have snarled at the older boy to shut the hell up, but Gaara said nothing. Kakashi could still tell that he'd hit a nerve.
And then he had to leave his students to their own devices, as Zabuza reappeared. This time, as Kakashi shot out an arm, ended in cold, razor-sharpened steel, he could tell that this Zabuza was the genuine article. The exiled jounin's huge sword appeared in wide, sweeping slices with far more speed than should have been possible.
Kakashi knew less about Momochi Zabuza than he did about other A-list criminals, but he knew enough to understand that the man's most dangerous talent wasn't stealth or assassination; such skills were second-nature to nearly every graduate of the Mist. No. Zabuza's true infamy came from just how easily he used his giants' blade.
He'd heard any number of names for the beast of a weapon that Zabuza carried: Necksplitter, The Bleeder, the Talon of God or, most simply, Crush. He had no idea what Zabuza called his chosen sword, but he knew one thing most clearly: having faced it twice now, he understood its grisly, frightening reputation.
Somewhere in the darker recesses of his mind, Hatake Kakashi sighed.
The time for battle had passed. This was war.
They had no need for words anymore. Anything they might have said to each other would be said through muscle, bone, and blood. They were no longer shinobi, no longer people. They were no longer souls and minds and spirit.
They were war. They were what they were meant to be, what they had been built to be. And in that, they were closer and more intimate than the most devoted of lovers. They danced, and in dancing they were one.
I know you, Momochi Zabuza. I know you, Demon of the Mist.
It began.
"Wait! Naruto! Where are you going?"
The blond turned, hands in the pockets of his pants, and raised an eyebrow. "Hero's job, never done. Ain't you heard?" He grinned. Inari was watching him, eyes wide and wet and cracking. Naruto pointed. "Look, Inari," he said, softly. "Look back there."
Inari looked.
Tsunami was sobbing openly, and it was clear that she was horrified. The house was in shambles, her dress tattered and dirty. Her hair was tangled and there was a gash on her forehead that leaked blood across one side of her face. But there was something in those eyes that hadn't been there before. Something so clear and shining, so blazing, that even Naruto—who wasn't much for "reading" people—could see it.
Pride.
"Inari..." Tsunami murmured breathlessly.
Inari finally dropped Waraji's sword. "M-Mommy."
Naruto chuckled. "You did that, Inari. You. Don't you ever forget today. Don't ever forget that you protected your mother. You stood up, and you picked up a weapon you've never used before, and you protected her. Just like your grandpa. Just like your dad. So don't you ever think that there aren't any heroes in this village, Inari, because you're a hero. Stand proud."
Inari turned to face him again, and the tears were falling freely now. "N...Naruto..."
"Now...you don't mind, I'm gonna go find my team. Can't have you hogging all the glory to yourself, now, can I?" He winked. "Now go hug your mom, you dope. You earned it, and so did she."
And he was gone.
It's been a number of years since I began reading and watching Naruto. I admit that most recently, I have not been keeping up-to-date with the series as a whole. I cannot rightly determine why I lost much of my interest in Naruto's journeys, but I think I've hit a breakthrough with this chapter in particular.
I don't know if it comes through, but I do feel that I've finally begun to actually understand Uzumaki Naruto's personality. I think it's made my interpretation of the character better, more fluid, and more natural. What do you think? Let me know.
See you next time.
