In the heart of the Village Hidden in the Sand stood its tallest and most prominent building, a testament to its significance and power. Within its sturdy walls, the Suna Council convened—a group of twelve distinguished members who served as the village's governing body. They gathered to deliberate and decide on the best ways to manage the internal affairs of their desert home.
Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, was a constant presence in these meetings, his authority and insight guiding the council's decisions. Today was no different. As the sun cast long shadows across the sandy streets outside, the council chamber buzzed with the murmurs of deliberation.
The leader of the village sat at the head of the table, his expression stern and contemplative. His piercing eyes scanned the faces of the council members, gauging their reactions as the discussions unfolded. The issues at hand were pressing, and the weight of responsibility hung heavily in the air.
"Our Daimyo requests an audience with us," Ryūsa, one of the councilmen, stated. "He demands an explanation for the recent… incursions into Ishigakure. Coincidentally, he has also hired more Fire Shinobi for middle-ranked missions." Silence followed his words, and the room filled with the low grumble of dissatisfaction.
No one in the room respected their Daimyo, yet, like every nation, they were bound to adhere to the political leader of their country. Even Rasa had to put up with him.
A guard walked in, his posture rigid and his expression serious. "An emissary from Otogakure has arrived." he announced, drawing the attention of leaders of the village.
The council members exchanged puzzled glances. Many of them, older and more experienced, hadn't even realized that Otogakure was even a village. It was relatively new and, in their eyes, both poor and insignificant in the grand scheme of world affairs.
It was located in the Land of Sound, traditionally known as the Land of Rice Fields, a region primarily recognized for its name sake. While the land had a Daimyo, it was impoverished, and those familiar with its centralized village knew it as a hotbed of crime, mercenary work, and a sluggish economy.
The Kazekage, raised an eyebrow. "Otogakure? This is unexpected," he said aloud. "Bring the emissary in."
The guard nodded and exited the room. Moments later, he returned with a figure dressed in the distinctive purple and black garb of Otogakure. The emissary, a man of medium height with sharp features and an air of quiet confidence, stepped forward and bowed respectfully to the Kazekage and the council.
Two men accompanied the diplomat. One of them had white hair pulled back into a ponytail, with large round reading glasses perched on his nose, giving him an intellectual other wore a bandana signified with the Otogakure symbol and a mask that obscured most of his face. He also sported black sunglasses, a practical choice given the intense sunlight of the desert environment.
The emissary spoke in a soft tone, his voice carrying a respectful sincerity. "My condolences to you all for not arranging this meeting more formally. Our village has many matters to discuss. Perhaps a trade deal, as our land is filled with an abundance of food, and we are interested in negotiating a fair price. But first, I wish to speak to the honorable Lord Kazekage alone."
The council members exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. Rasa nodded, recognizing the importance of this private discussion.
"Very well," He said, rising from his seat. "We shall speak in my private chambers."
"Thank you, Kazekage-sama."
It was a short distance down the hallway to the Kazekage's chambers. The guards were instructed to stay at the door as the two entered. Rasa was widely regarded as the strongest shinobi in the Land of Wind, a title he held with unwavering confidence and was ready to defend at any moment.
"Before we begin," The red haired man said, his tone measured, "Why don't you tell me who you really are?"
A smirk played on the envoy's lips. "Your reputation precedes you, Fourth Kazekage. My apologies for deceiving your councilmen. I had to ensure I would make it this far."
The Kazekage's eyes narrowed, his posture tense and ready for confrontation. "No need. It is our own fault that my Jonin failed to recognize your obvious aura. Now, tell me," he added, his voice cold and dangerous, "Before I have you buried alive."
The emissary discarded his upper attire, revealing purple shinobi clothing. It wasn't the armor that caught the Kazekage's attention, however. Rasa had expected the person to be using a transformation jutsu, and to his credit, the emissary was, but it was a far more advanced one.
Then, something unorthodox began to happen. The envoy suddenly started peeling the skin off his face. Rasa watched with a mixture of disdain and disgust as strip after strip of the disguise came away, revealing a menacing eye and grey skin beneath.
"I am Orochimaru."
"The Legendary Sannin…" Rasa mused. The tension in the room escalated. While the Kazekage was confident in his strength, the idea of facing Orochimaru unsettled him. He was reputed to be one of the strongest shinobi Konoha had ever produced, and even though he was no longer part of his village, that did little to ease the unease the wind shadow felt, "What are you doing here? I should have you killed and sent to the Hokage as a gift."
Orochimaru grinned. "A gift, you say? How amusing. Everyone knows the Land of Fire has been stealing the contracts your Daimyo desperately offers. How pitiful." He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Your recent troubles in Ishigakure have drawn quite the attention, which is precisely why I decided to make an appearance."
"State your reasoning for being here," Rasa said, his voice cold. "I won't ask again."
The snake's smile widened, a serpentine glint in his eye. "I have come with an offer, Kazekage-sama. One that could change the future of Sunagakure. I am aware of the pressures and difficulties your village faces—resource challenges, political strife, and the growing threat from other nations."
The leader's expression remained stern, though his interest was evident. "Get to the point. What is this offer?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I propose an alliance, a partnership that will benefit us both. I possess knowledge, techniques, and resources that could significantly bolster your village's strength. In return, I seek your cooperation in my own endeavors. Together, we can reshape the balance of power in our favor."
There was a moment of silence. A look of ambition, consideration, but wise hesitation.
"And what, exactly, do you seek from us?"
"The use of your village as a base for my research and operations," Orochimaru explained. "In return, I will share my discoveries, provide military support, and help you regain the prominence Sunagakure deserves."
He seemed to read Orochimaru's thoughts without a word being spoken. "The destruction of Konohagakure..." The Kazekage stated, his voice steady but laced with a hint of bitterness.
Temptation hung thick in the air as the Sannin's influence continued to expand, "Perhaps you wish to show the Daimyo and those who protect him who truly controls his wars." he mused, his tone laced with a hint of challenge.
The Wind Daimyo was not as wealthy as his counterparts, and Sunagakure was the poorest of the major nations.
Hiring shinobi was costly, especially when relying on those from within the village, as it required covering all expenses—logistics, medicine, and pay.
In contrast, employing ninjas from other countries as mercenaries only required a base fee. There was no need to provide housing, food, or worry about casualties, effectively eliminating any responsibility.
However, this world values its traditions, honor, and pride. A Daimyo who hires ninja from other countries is seen as… disrespectful. This is particularly true in the case of the Wind Daimyo, who has been deliberately cutting funding for Suna's military ever since the end of the most recent war.
Orochimaru nodded, his ominous eyes fueled with hunger. "You understand well, Kazekage-sama. The system is flawed, favoring the wealthy and powerful while those with true potential are left to struggle. Konohagakure has grown complacent, its leaders blind to the suffering their policies inflict on smaller villages like yours."
The Kazekage's gaze hardened from the intentional disrespect. "We are not a smaller village. We are a Great Nation. You would do well to remember that if you wish for me to consider your proposals."
"As you say," The snake replied with a manipulative tone, his words dripping with deceit. "I effectively control Otogakure and its shinobi. Once the Third Hokage is dead, the village will be overrun, and we will have taken them by surprise."
"Everyone knows shinobi from the smaller villages are inferior." Rasa replied evenly, "And the Third Hokage, as old as he is, is a strong man. I would be a fool to challenge him alone." The minor nations often lacked the resources and advantages that the great nations possessed when it came to the quality of their ninja—funding, experience, Kekkei Genkai, and tailed beasts. However, these shinobi were still trained and capable, and they often harbored deep resentment toward their more powerful neighbors.
"I'll be the one dealing with him." Orochimaru declared with a chilling certainty, "I will need you to lead the vanguard against Konohagakure."
That changed everything. Rasa had no doubt about the look in Orochimaru's eyes. This man was serious, deadly, and ambitious—the perfect combination to fulfill his ultimate desires. The vanguard was the leading force of an army. The spearhead, the first to fight, and the first to die. It made sense. Otogakure could never face the Land of Fire on its own. Their role would be to support—flanking, attacking from within, and assisting the Wind Shinobi.
The Kazekage's thoughts raced, 'And hopefully you will die with him.' With decades of grievance, bitterness toward his Daimyo, the lack of international respect Sunagakure received, and the constant challenges to his authority within the village. With Orochimaru's assurance, Rasa began to seriously consider these options.
"I wonder how the Wind Daimyo would feel about you and the budget of your military once in a war," The Sannin continued, his words calculated, "He would be forced to make concessions to you, and the Land of Wind is impenetrable. No army can march here."
The prospect of gaining leverage over the Daimyo and securing Sunagakure's position in the shinobi world was tantalizing. But the risks were immense, and the consequences of failure dire.
"If we proceed down this path," The Kazekage said slowly, "There can be no room for error. We must be prepared for any eventuality, and we must ensure that our actions serve the best interests of Sunagakure above all else."
Orochimaru smiled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course, Kazekage-sama. Together, we will achieve greatness for Sunagakure and Otogakure."
"The Land of Waves!?" Itachi exclaimed, his tone tinged with hesitation. "When Lord Third assured me that your team would receive better missions, I didn't expect them to be international so soon."
Sasuke, busy packing his backpack with extra ninja tools, provisions, and spare clothes, had been handling standard Genin missions—like finding lost pets and picking up trash—for the past month. Though these tasks were humble, they were well-suited for an ambitious, hot-headed Shinobi like him. Now, he was preparing for a new challenge.
"It's a C-Rank mission," Sasuke replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "If Naruto is good at anything, it's complaining hard enough to get what he wants."
Itachi had initially been concerned when he learned that the Fourth Hokage's son and his younger brother had been placed on the same team. His worry had eased once he saw that Kakashi was to lead them. Reflecting on this, Itachi said, "Perhaps I should have voiced my opposition instead of supporting the upgrade. Genin teams are usually assigned D-Rank missions, but Naruto's frustration led him to complain to the Hokage. I supported the idea of upgrading your missions. Although C-Ranks are still manageable, they are a step up from the mundane tasks."
Sasuke shrugged, a determined look in his eyes. "I'm ready for something more challenging. Chasing stray cats can only teach me so much."
"I've been to the Land of Waves," Itachi continued. "When I departed for the Land of Water, I took a ship from there. It's a rugged area with a lot of lawlessness. It can be complex, but fortunately, we are not at war with any nation."
Sasuke shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "It doesn't sound like it will be much of a challenge."
"It might not seem challenging now," Itachi warned, "but guarding a bridge builder could quickly become complicated. The Land of Waves has had its share of troubles. Be cautious."
Sasuke zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I'm ready for something more challenging than chasing stray cats. This mission might be just what I need to really test my skills."
Itachi smiled faintly. "Remember, every mission, no matter how small, has something valuable to teach. Stay vigilant and follow Kakashi's instructions. You'll learn a lot from him."
Sasuke nodded with determination. "I won't let my guard down."
"Good," the older Uchiha replied. "And Sasuke, take care of yourself and your teammates. It's not just about completing the mission—it's about making sure everyone comes back alive."
"I get it," Sasuke said, his tone a mix of irritation and acceptance.
With a mix of affection and playful roughness, Itachi ruffled his younger brother's hair. "I'm so proud of you. You're growing stronger every day."
Sasuke swatted his hand away, clearly annoyed but with a hint of a smirk. "Yeah, yeah... cut it out." he muttered.
The Land of Frost was a rugged, mountainous region shrouded in an eternal blanket of snow. Its landscape was a stark and breathtaking expanse of icy peaks and frost-covered valleys. The sky above was often overcast, casting a perpetual twilight over the land, with the cold air biting sharply against the skin. The land was bordered by formidable neighbors: to the north lay the Land of Lightning, with its stormy and electric climate; to the south, the Land of Steam, known for its geothermal activity and industrial advancements; and to the west, the Land of Iron, a formidable power known for its military strength.
Historically, the Land of Frost had once been a part of the Land of Iron, a unified territory under a single rule. However, a significant upheaval occurred when a faction of samurai, dissatisfied with the old order, rebelled against the established norms. These samurai left behind their traditional lives and embraced the ways of the shinobi. They adopted the shinobi's laws, culture, and fighting styles, eventually establishing their own unique society.
Two Akatsuki members stood at the entrance of the Frost Daimyo's palace, the icy winds biting sharply at their skin. Clad in black and red cloaks and wide-brimmed hats, their figures cast long shadows on the frost-covered ground.
"I'll do the talking." Shisui said, his voice calm yet authoritative. His Sharingan flared subtly, a warning to anyone who might think of challenging them.
Kisame smirked, revealing his shark-like teeth. "You always do."
From within the palace walls came a voice, impatient and irritable. "Hurry it up!" The Frost Daimyo, a man of tradition dressed in white and light blue robes, lounged in his throne. His potbelly protruded slightly, and his expression was one of perpetual boredom, indifferent to matters beyond his borders.
"You have two more visitors," a guard announced, his voice steady despite the unusual request. The Frost Shinobi, wielding spears—a weapon far too traditional for most shinobi—stood on either side, their stances rigid and formal.
"Who is it?" the Daimyo asked, his tone laced with disinterest.
Shisui stepped forward confidently, passing between the two guards. They hesitated, gripping their spears but making no move to stop him. Kisame followed, his imposing presence adding to the tension. The Daimyo's eyes narrowed as he observed the approaching figures, a flicker of caution replacing his usual indifference.
"Remove your—" the Daimyo began, but his words were interrupted by the newcomers.
"Daimyo-sama," Shisui said smoothly, "You must remember how cold it is here, and my blue friend and I have difficulty with the cold. I ask for your forgiveness and request permission to warm ourselves."
The Daimyo's initial irritation seemed to melt away at Shisui's low, soothing tone. He reclined back into his ancient chair with a grumble. "Very well. What is it you want?"
The Uchiha inclined his head respectfully. "Daimyo-sama, we come as mercenaries. You may have forgotten us. My name is Kagami, and my companion here is... not particularly relevant. We seek employment in your service."
The Daimyo tilted his head, confusion clouding his eyes. "Right... my services... I was...?"
"We come from the Land of Steam," Shisui continued smoothly, "but the Daimyo there has demilitarized, and we were released from our duties."
The Daimyo rubbed his temple, as if trying to jog his memory. "My... mercenaries... services... Perhaps I am aging too fast. The pressures of leadership..."
Shisui's tone grew more flattering, each word a carefully crafted tool of persuasion. "Your hard work is renowned across the lands, Daimyo-sama. We've heard of the high crime rate in your rural areas and the samurai from the Land of Iron crossing your borders as a show of force."
At the mention of the samurai, the Daimyo's demeanor shifted. A spark of anger lit his eyes. "Those samurai..." he spat, then hesitated. "Have they been...?" He turned to one of his guards, seeking confirmation.
The guard, caught off guard himself, stammered slightly before nodding. "Yes, Daimyo-sama... I seem to recall... I believe so. I forget where I heard it, but... I think I remember a skirmish that broke out some time ago... didn't I?"
The Frost Daimyo took a moment to collect his thoughts, clearly struggling to remember. Shisui watched him intently, his Mangekyō Sharingan flaring subtly. His power was never meant to be overtly harmful or direct; subtlety was the key when using genjutsu.
"Right... very well," the Daimyo finally said. "With the recent boost in tourism, we've been collecting more taxes. I suppose we can use the funds for additional mercenaries. However, I cannot amass an army too large."
"No need," Shisui replied smoothly. "You'll only need us."
The guards exchanged glances, their leader's apparent confidence seeming to sway their judgment. "Very well. I will arrange for some accommodations and provisions for your stay. Feel free to check in with me weekly, but your duties will primarily be on the border with the Land of Iron."
The two guardsmen couldn't shake their unease. The arrival of these new mercenaries was unusual. They were not locals with established ties or longstanding relationships with the Land of Frost. Instead, they were outsiders—mercenaries—who typically went through a rigorous vetting process, including training, observation, and careful calculation.
Yet, these two had managed to persuade the Daimyo with nothing more than their words. They had convinced him to trust them, to pay them, to provide them with housing and food. This wasn't about a single mission with a one-time payment. Their stay was intended to be long-term, requiring more than just financial compensation.
Despite their reservations, the guards and the shinobi of the Land of Frost had grown up adhering to the Daimyo's decisions. It was a tradition ingrained in their ancestors and their culture. They were not in a position to question the Daimyo's choices. Their duty was to follow orders and maintain the status quo, regardless of their personal misgivings.
Kisame, ever the curious one, interjected, "Not the Land of Lightning?"
Shisui shot Kisame a sharp glare, one that made the blue-skinned man visibly flinch.
"No," the Daimyo said, his tone firm. "The Land of Lightning will protest, and we cannot hope to stand against them, no matter how hard we try."
Shisui's lips curled into a smirk. "Now, why is that?"
"Don't get me started," the Daimyo replied, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Just focus on your duties and stay warm."
"Hey! What the hell are you trying to do?"
Sasuke braced himself. They were in a dire predicament. The Land of Waves mission, which Naruto had eagerly insisted on, had taken a disastrous turn. It had seemed straightforward at first—protect a civil engineer named Tazuna, who had secured private funding from companies in the Land of Fire to build a bridge in the Land of Waves. On paper, it had appeared almost too insignificant to warrant much attention.
The Land of Waves, a small island nation near the coast of the Land of Fire, lacked any centralized village, Kage, Daimyo, or military. The law of the land was determined by private citizens, where those with more wealth held more power.
But things quickly escalated. They had been ambushed by the Demon Brothers of the Mist, Gozu and Meizu, yet Kakashi had managed to kill them. However, as they continued their mission, they soon found themselves under attack again—this time by a far stronger and more elusive enemy.
Surrounding the two Genin was a multitude of mirrored ice shields, each reflecting a deadly opponent. The assailant, a boy only a few years older than them but far stronger, moved with lethal precision. He wore an ominous Anbu mask, and his long brown hair trailed behind him as he struck. Sasuke's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation—they were outmatched, and he knew it.
Sasuke quickly performed a set of hand seals, his mind flashing back to the countless hours of training under Itachi's watchful eye. He could still hear his brother's voice guiding him through the intricate techniques, urging him to perfect them. Now was the time to prove himself.
"Katon: Hōsenka Tsumabeni (Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Flower Nail Crimson)!"
This was a refined variation of the Phoenix Flower Jutsu, honed and intensified through years of rigorous practice. Flames erupted from Sasuke's mouth, engulfing the shurikens he had launched moments before. The fiery projectiles scattered in every direction, each one homing in on the reflective ice mirrors.
Naruto watched in awe, his eyes wide with admiration as the shuriken blazed through the air, shattering the mirrors one after another. The intense heat and force of the attack caught Haku off guard, forcing him to brace himself as his carefully crafted jutsu began to crumble around him.
Sasuke's advantage was clear. The time he had spent training with his brother had set him apart from his peers, giving him a decisive edge in this life-and-death battle.
Haku panicked, "You're stronger than I believed," he admitted. "But I cannot fail my dream. I cannot fail his dream." He quickly performed hand signs before slamming his palm into the ground.
"Hissatsu Hyōsō (Ice Release: Certain-Kill Spears)!"
With his two-tomoe Sharingan, Sasuke turned and quickly yelled, "Naruto! Get away from the ground!" They both jumped into the air, just as sharp ice spears emerged, attempting to pierce them. Sasuke was cut but managed to avoid most of the damage, while Naruto quickly escaped the surprise attack. Haku dashed forward and engaged in hand to hand combat against the Uchiha. But the Genin surprised him. He was just as talented in hand to hand combat as he was with ninjutsu.
Sasuke landed a direct hit, so powerful it shattered the man's mask. It crumbled with ease, leaving the two stunned with what they saw. Perhaps they expected someone menacing as the demon of the mist, but to there surprise, it was someone much more… elegant.
Naruto said with wide eyes, "What… you!?" He said in disbelief, "God damnit! Why did it have to be someone I just met!"
Haku was feeling the despair overrun him, the weight of the situation pressing down like an anvil on his chest. Despite being a skilled assassin, close combat was a glaring weakness, and Sasuke's superb training only exacerbated the gap between them. His heart pounded as he dodged another swift strike, his movements growing increasingly desperate.
It was then the Ice-Release user finally noticed the red eyes, the Sharingan, swirling with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. Haku's breath caught in his throat, his gaze fixated on those eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul.
"A Kekkei Genkai…?" Haku whispered, his voice barely audible over the intensity of battle. His tone was soft, filled with a mix of awe and resignation. The realization of the power he faced dawned on him, a bitter acceptance of the overwhelming odds, "So, you know what it's like then," he continued, his gaze searching Sasuke's eyes. "Where you're from, are you alone? Because of your blood?"
Sasuke stared blankly for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "My clan is almost dead," he admitted, "But I am here. A survivor, an avenger. It is not a weakness, it's my biggest strength."
Haku lowered his head, a heaviness settling over his heart as he revealed his own painful past. "I know what that is like, for I myself, am here. My father killed my mother," he confessed quietly. "And the rest of what was my clan had died long ago in my village. My mother had hidden our lineage, fearing what would happen if we were discovered. But it was too late."
In that moment, amidst the chaos of battle, the two warriors found a brief connection in their shared tragedy. They were both survivors of a dark past, remnants of once-great clans brought to ruin by violence and betrayal. As the realization sank in, a silent understanding passed between them, transcending the enmity of their current conflict.
Sasuke lowered his eyes, his voice heavy with the weight of his clan's tragedy. "One of our own brought us down," he muttered, his tone cold but laced with unspoken pain. "But his time will come. I've vowed to avenge my clan," he declared, his gaze burning with determination.
Haku regarded him calmly, his own expression one of quiet resignation. "I see," he replied, his voice tinged with acceptance. "Then I have no chance of defeating you. For I do not have that in me. I serve Zabuza-sama and his dream. I am his tool, his weapon, but you are far sharper than I."
With a sense of defeat, Haku let his body relax, his posture softening, devoid of any willingness to continue the fight. "Kill me." he said simply, his voice devoid of fear or hesitation.
Both Sasuke and Naruto gasped in disbelief.
"What the hell?" Naruto exclaimed, eyes wide. "It doesn't have to be that way!"
"I've outlived my usefulness," Haku stated matter-of-factly. "I am a tool that has rusted and is breaking."
Naruto glanced toward Sasuke for guidance, uncertainty written all over his face. "Sasuke..." he trailed off, unsure if his teammate knew how to handle the situation.
Sasuke, equally caught off guard, felt a conflict rising within him. There was no hatred between them, no malice driving their clash. Haku had fought with conviction, but he hadn't inflicted harm out of cruelty. They were all simply caught up in their missions. Sasuke, raised in the Uchiha clan, had been taught to fight with honor and, at times, even sympathy for his enemies. There was only one person who would ever be exempt from that mercy—one person who had brought him unbearable pain.
In that moment, the Uchiha realized that the true test of his strength wasn't in defeating Haku but in showing mercy. The lesson his brother, Itachi, had once tried to teach him echoed in his mind.
"Strength isn't just about ninjutsu. Sasuke," Itachi began, his tone somber and reflective. "It's about understanding when to spare a life, when to show mercy. True strength lies in knowing when not to kill."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed, skepticism evident in his voice. "I don't believe that. Killing is part of being a Shinobi. How many people have you killed when you could have avoided it?"
Itachi sighed, a shadow passing over his face. "You're right. I have killed when there was a chance not to. I have killed under orders, in the heat of battle, and even those who had surrendered. But I have also spared lives when I could. And when I look back, it's the lives I took that haunt me, not the ones I spared."
He paused, the weight of his words hanging heavily between them. "One day, in the far future, you and I will both face our end. In that moment, we'll reflect on the type of person we were. You don't want to be consumed by regret, remembered only as a killer who showed no mercy. That's how wars begin and persist. Instead, strive to be someone who did everything possible to preserve life and peace, even in the harshest of times. All Shinobi must remember this."
Itachi's gaze softened as he looked at his brother, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. "Mercy, Sasuke, is not a sign of weakness."
"You don't have to die," Sasuke said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "Your life has value beyond being a tool. You can find a new purpose."
Before Haku could even contemplate the words, his attention was drawn to something in the distance that filled him with distress. Without hesitation, he charged past the Uchiha, his heart racing with a sense of urgency. But Sasuke chased after him.
Zabuza Momochi, a former member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, was bleeding profusely, his body riddled with injuries. Multiple dogs were biting him from every direction, their relentless jaws locking him in place. He had believed the Hidden Mist Technique would grant him the advantage, but the blood-scented hounds had tracked him easily, rendering him helpless.
"Cuh…" he growled, "Damn you, Kakashi…"
The Jonin stood with his eyes lowered, a look of finality on his face. "Sorry, but your dream dies here."
"My dream?" Zabuza spat, bitterness dripping from his words. "What do you know about my dream?"
Kakashi's expression hardened. "You're a mercenary," he said with distaste. "A shinobi without a home. A sword without a sheath. A wandering murderer. You kill for money, and right now you're attempting to kill Tazuna for your mob boss."
The Mist shinobi spat defiantly. "My word is my bond. I took a contract on his life, yes, but my dream is to go home and to set things right. Don't pretend you know me—where I come from, who I am. You're a mercenary as well, being paid to kill in order to defend him."
"Go home?" Kakashi asked, skepticism lacing his voice. "Did the Fifth Mizukage pardon you? Why are you even here then?"
Zabuza tilted his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Fifth? That's just a joke. Yagura cannot be defeated. I've heard of some rebellion, but that's hopeless. Just as mine was."
Kakashi's expression softened slightly. "I know firsthand what has happened in the Land of Water… because… I was there."
The revelation hung in the air, tension palpable. His bitterness flickered momentarily, curiosity piercing through the haze of anger. "You were there? What do you know about the bloodshed, the betrayal?" As he stared, the look in his enemies' eyes did not falter. Kakashi was serious. He had been there. "Is Yagura dead?" The swordsman asked, his voice trembling. "Is he really dead?" Though Zabuza had plotted to kill the Mizukage himself, the reality scared him—he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to know the answer. But Kakashi did not reply, the silence heavy with truth.
"...Who? Who killed him?" Zabuza pressed.
Kakashi's gaze remained steady. "I will not say his name, out of respect for our secrets. But since you're going to die anyway," Kakashi's voice grew colder, "I'll tell you this. The one who took Yagura down is related to the boy standing over there." He gestured toward Sasuke. "The one who's going to kill your friend unless you stop him."
The mercenary's expression shifted, his resolve shaking. "I… that was my dream. To rid the village of the Mizukage. It's why I left. It was my dream…" His words felt hollow now, like an echo of a forgotten purpose.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "Then why aren't you fighting for it anymore? You gave up on that dream a long time ago, Zabuza. Your death is certain now." It was the end now. He watched in disbelief as the crackling blue energy of Kakashi's Chidori intensified, growing louder and brighter. He braced himself for the final strike, but in the corner of his eye, he saw something move.
Haku, loyal as ever, had launched himself in front of his sensei, attempting to shield his master from Kakashi's deadly attack. Sasuke, quick on his feet, leaped after Haku, grabbing his leg in mid-air and halting his advance.
But it was too late.
Kakashi's Chidori struck true, piercing Zabuza's chest. The rogue shinobi staggered, blood pouring from the wound, his grip on life slipping with every second.
Haku looked on in horror, tears welling up in his eyes.
In the fleeting moments of his life, Zabuza's hardened demeanor softened, not through defeat, but through revelation. As the bitter cold of the battle weighed down on him, a flicker of blissful memories emerged, cutting through the haze of pain and failure. His gaze, once clouded with anger, fixed on Haku, and a tear slowly traced down his cheek. For the first time in years, the former Mist shinobi allowed himself to reflect, not on the regrets or tragedies of his violent path, but on the one choice that had brought him true happiness.
He remembered the boy, chained to that cold, damp wall—ragged, bruised, and hollow with hunger. Zabuza had made a choice that day. He had taken Haku in, trained him, molded him into a weapon. But more than that, he had given Haku a purpose. And in doing so, he had unknowingly found something he hadn't even known he needed—a bond. It was not just a tool he had forged but the closest thing he had ever had to a family.
As the memories rushed through him, Zabuza realized, with painful clarity, that those times with Haku were the best moments of his life. The battles, the betrayals, the hunger for power—all paled in comparison to the companionship and trust they had shared.
Haku did not have to die.
The snow swirled around them, gentle and silent, as if the world itself mourned the moment. Zabuza lay on the ground, his body weakening with every breath, blood bubbling in his throat. His vision blurred as he gazed at the figure beside him, the one person who had always been there.
"Haku..." he rasped, his voice barely audible, more fragile than it had ever been. "I'm sorry... I failed you."
Haku fell to his knees beside him, his trembling hands clutching Zabuza's. His own voice, weak and broken, mirrored the despair in his heart. "No, Zabuza-sama… I failed you. I wasn't strong enough… I couldn't protect you..."
Zabuza's breath came in ragged gasps, but his eyes softened as they met Haku's tear-streaked face. For the first time, his voice carried a rare tenderness. "Haku… you were more than a tool... You were the only one who stood by me. You were… my everything."
Tears fell freely from Haku's eyes, his whole body shaking with the weight of guilt and sorrow. "Zabuza-sama... you were everything to me. I wanted to protect you... to stand by you... but I couldn't. I wasn't enough."
His hand, trembling and weak, lifted to Haku's face. His fingers brushed against the boy's skin, wiping away the tears that flowed endlessly. "Haku… my dream... our dream... None of it mattered without you." The snow continued to fall, soft and pure, a stark contrast to the blood and death that surrounded them. Naruto and Sasuke watched from a distance, the moment heavy with the weight of unspoken understanding. This man, feared throughout the lands, was not the monster they thought. Not in this moment.
The swordsman strength faded with each passing second, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His voice, though weak, carried a rare softness. "I have a new dream... and it's about you. I want to see you again, not now, not tomorrow, not even ten years from now. One day, I hope you can tell me about the dream, the good, the bad. But I don't want you to rush it... I don't want to hear it... until it's over."
Haku's eyes widened, his tears falling harder. "Zabuza-sama..."
With a final exhale, he slumped forward, his body finally succumbing to the wounds that had ravaged him. Yet in that last moment, Zabuza Momochi found a peace that had eluded him for so long. He had spoken his truth, and it had set him free.
"I will, Zabuza-sama," Haku whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his promise. "I will..."
The snow cascaded down on this part of the world, painting the landscape in serene beauty. Shisui and Kisame had been given quarters away from the main village, nestled in the northeastern region, closer to the Land of Lightning's border. This positioning was deliberate, just as Shisui had intended.
A long, winding road stretched from north to south, cutting through the world like a lifeline, connecting the Land of Lightning all the way to the Land of Wind. Their new location offered the perfect vantage point—not far from the northeastern coast, where the terrain provided natural concealment.
Shisui stood silently, gazing up at the overcast sky. Snowflakes fell softly, collecting on his cloak, yet despite the cold, he appeared at peace.
Kisame approached, breaking the stillness. "We got lucky," he said. "This is the perfect place to settle. So close to the road, we could head north or south and stay hidden by the terrain. The Daimyo sure likes you."
"Everyone likes me," Shisui replied with a smirk, amusement glinting in his eyes. "But I doubt the Daimyo truly understands what's best for his land."
"Prying into a government's actions..." Kisame muttered, a hint of caution lacing his voice. "Not exactly keeping a low profile."
Shisui's expression remained calm, almost calculating. "Our first task is to ensure these samurai are driven off. I'll handle the rest. This land needs adjustments—perhaps we can even use it as a springboard into the Land of Lightning. Leader-sama will appreciate that."
Kisame raised an eyebrow, the smirk fading into something more serious. "And now you're speaking for our leader? Your arrogance knows no bounds."
Shisui met his gaze, unwavering. "Sometimes, Kisame, you have to be bold to make an impact. We're not here to play it safe. We're here to shape the future."