The air shimmered with icy needles and unspoken tension as Naruto and Sasuke stood back-to-back inside the crystalline prison of Haku's Demonic Mirroring Ice mirrors.
The blood running from shallow cuts and bruises smeared their faces, sweat mixing with grime, and their breath fogged in the cold air. Above all, their hearts pounded in rhythm.
Senbon rained from all directions like a steel tempest.
"Incoming!" Sasuke barked, his Sharingan eyes scanning the mirrors faster than humanly possible. He ducked just as Naruto's latest clone slammed a makeshift wooden shield in the path of Haku's barrage.
"Got you covered!" shouted Naruto, another clone forming at his side to take the impact next.
The shield was slowly giving out. Splinters jutted out at awkward angles.
Several of the senbon had pierced clean through it already. Still, Naruto refused to back down. He knew. A few more volleys and the thing would break apart completely.
Didn't matter.
Because Sasuke was back on his feet. And Naruto still had chakra to burn.
The plan was already in motion.
Haku didn't relent. From within the mirrors, he hurled senbon with ruthless precision. But unlike before, he was also stepping out of his mirrors now, appearing in sudden flashes and launching physical attacks before melting back into his mirrored sanctuary.
It was working to increase the pressure.
But also working against him.
Because every moment outside those mirrors put him at risk.
The bruises on his arms, the tears in his robes—clear signs that Sasuke's kunai had connected multiple times. Naruto's clones had managed some hits too, even if they vanished right after.
Haku was fast, no doubt.
But he wasn't invincible.
He gritted his teeth inside the mirror realm, eyes darting between the boys. He could feel it: the immense rumble of chakra from Raiga's lightning and the terrifying roar of Daigo Guretsu's chakra. But he couldn't feel Zabuza-sama. Nothing.
His heart skipped. Just what in the world washappening?!
He had to end this. Fast.
Back on the battlefield, Naruto's clones formed a wall on both sides. The 'shields' were raised like primitive fortress gates, protecting Naruto and Sasuke as they made a beeline for the targeted mirror. The one Haku had emerged from seconds ago.
A line of senbon arced toward them.
Naruto grunted, holding the shield tightly in both hands getting memories from one of the clones that dispeled. A senbon embedded itself in its left hand, right between the fingers. His clone puffed into smoke.
Naruto hissed, grimacing. The real shield—the original—was worn, its makeshift handle splintered and broken. Now he had to grab the whole board by its edges.
It was a stupid thing. A scrap of wood. But all of his clones were using it.
And all of them were breaking just as easily.
Daigo-sensei's voice echoed in his mind:
"Your clones pop too easily, Naruto. You dump chakra into the jutsu until it 'works.' That doesn't mean it's good. Control that flow, less waste, more durability."
Naruto had been working on it. Still had a long way to go. Even a senbon nick was enough to pop a clone.
But it didn't matter.
They only needed one shot.
Naruto charged, shield held forward, yelling with raw determination. As he neared the mirror, he slammed both feet forward in a wild chakra enhanced dropkick.
BOOM!
The impact launched him backward like a slingshot, propelled by the explosive chakra technique Daigo taught during wall-walking training.
The more chakra you put in your feet, Daigo had said, the harder you rebound—and the more damage you deal.
The clones caught him—barely. Half a dozen popped like bubbles. But Naruto was safe.
More importantly, the mirror was cracked.
"NOW!" Sasuke shouted. At himself.
He was already moving, feet skimming across the misty floor.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu!"
Fireballs launched from his mouth in bursts. One—two—five—eight. They rained on the cracked mirror like meteors, scorching ice and spraying steam.
Haku flinched.
He tried to respond, but couldn't reinforce the mirror mid-attack. The structural integrity was breaking. The more chakra he used to sustain it, the more chakra he lost from maintaining the other mirrors. A cycle he couldn't keep up.
Then he saw Naruto again—rushing forward.
"This ends now!" Haku hissed.
In a blur, he burst from the mirror. His form like a spear of ice, hand clenched in a cluster of senbon.
He struck.
Needles buried into Naruto's gut.
Or so he thought.
Smoke exploded.
"A clone?!" Again?!
Haku turned to retreat. Get back to the mirror. Regroup. Reset.
But the mirror was blocked.
A wooden board. The real one.
Propped against the opening just in time to disrupt his path.
"No—"
Too late. Naruto and Sasuke surged from the fading smoke in perfect sync.
"Your guard's down!"
A synchronized attack—Sasuke with a sweeping kick to the gut, Naruto with a chakra-packed uppercut to the face.
CRACK!
Haku went flying. Launched like a ragdoll through the already-shattered mirror.
He hit the ground hard. Skull slamming into the concrete of the bridge.
He didn't move.
The mirrors flickered, then shattered into falling shards of ice.
Sakura gasped, hands flying to her mouth while Tazuna stared with wide eyes.
Right in front of them, Haku lay unconscious, body twitching slightly. Bruised, bloodied, unmoving.
Sasuke and Naruto stepped through the mist, standing tall despite the scratches and the pain.
"You did it," Sakura whispered, stunned. Both boys grinned with Sasuke smirking.
"YEAH!" Naruto yelled, pumping his fist up, ignoring all wounds.
The fight was over.
Back to Daigo:
Zabuza Momochi was a beast of a man, and beasts didn't stay caged without care. Daigo knew this. Which was exactly why the bindings on the man weren't just rope.
They were chakra-infused threads, wrapped and knotted in layered formations—ones designed to counteract a dozen different ways a shinobi could escape.
Pressure points sealed with paralysis tags, coils of sealing wire tucked beneath the outer ropes, even a genjutsu trigger woven into the last loop—if Zabuza so much as tried to move a certain way, his vision would spiral into hell.
No ANBU trick was left out.
"You don't just tie a noose and leave," Daigo muttered, standing back to admire the bound Demon of the Mist. "Especially not with this bastard."
Zabuza was out cold—chakra drained to nothing, body broken from a fight he never stood a chance of winning once Daigo got serious.
When Daigo finished, he gave a light exhale, a half-smirk on his lips. "There. Now even you would struggle with that."
Then, without flair or hesitation, he walked to the edge of the bridge and dropped down.
His body vanished from the bridge and slapped gently against the ocean's surface. Chakra channeled into the soles of his sandals kept him upright as he sprinted across the water, fast and low like a predator chasing scent.
His silver aura had long since vanished—Chakra Personification deactivated. But his senses?
Still sharp.
He had felt it earlier. Two chakra signatures—one faint, flickering like a candle in a thunderstorm. As for the other? Familiar. Chaotic. Hurting. And dim.
Raiga.
Daigo's eyes narrowed.
He reached the shoreline, then the treeline. Then—
Blood.
It soaked the roots. Smeared the bark. A stream so thick it looked like someone had spilled a barrel of it and kept dragging the body. No, bodies.
There was enough here for two people's worth of lifeblood, and it kept going.
Daigo's jaw tightened. He followed the trail, cutting through branches and mud without pause until—
There. A clearing.
Raiga lay in the middle, on his back, blood pooling beneath him like a dark red pillow. His chest wound—the one Daigo had given him—still pulsed blood in weak, rhythm-less spurts. And beside him, slumped like a discarded ragdoll, was the boy.
Ranmaru.
Daigo stopped cold, his hand resting idly near the hilt of Okozai. He took in the scene silently, his senses sweeping the area. No traps. No tricks. Just death creeping in.
Raiga's breath was shallow, wet and rattling. His grin though—still there. Stained with blood, teeth bared, eyes dimming.
Daigo looked him over.
All the bruises were gone. The broken bones, the muscle tears—healed.
But the wound Daigo gave him? Still wide open. Still bleeding.
Of course. Okozai wasn't just a sword.
It was the embodiment of his will. It was Daigo's soul folded into unbreakable alloy. Okozai rejected chakra that wasn't Daigo's. Raiga had learned that when he tried to run lightning from the Kiba blades into it and got nothing but silence.
It wasn't a sword that served—it chose.
And that edge? That edge wasn't just sharp. It was absolute.
That purple glow at the blade's teeth? That was Daigo's will compressed into deadly precision. When it cut, it didn't just slice, it imposed. No regular healing Jutsu could close it. No regeneration could override it.
You bled, and you bled forever.
Raiga's body had tried to stitch everything else back together—but that cut?
It refused.
Daigo crouched near the boy. Ranmaru. The kid was out cold, barely breathing, his chakra nearly gone. But something about him made Daigo pause.
He looked back at Raiga, who let out a cough that sounded like he was gargling broken glass.
"You... hngh... you really did a number on me," Raiga rasped.
"You're still talking, so not enough," Daigo replied dryly.
Raiga wheezed out a laugh. "This fight... was a good one. Real good. Haven't felt that alive in years."
Daigo said nothing.
Raiga looked at Ranmaru, blood dribbling from his mouth. "The kid... he's got something... freaky. He can share his life force with others. Tried to dump everything into me. Heal me. Maybe... bring me back."
Daigo's brow lifted slightly. "He did that?"
Raiga snorted. "Yeah. I smacked him unconscious before he could finish. Damn fool."
Daigo stood, arms crossed, eyes lingering on the boy again.
Everything made sense now. The boy had slowed Raiga's death—maybe even shortened the length of Okozai's wound by an inch or two. That was impressive. Unnatural, even.
Daigo sighed. "So... you Mist maniacs do have a heart under all those teeth."
Raiga chuckled, the sound cracked and wet.
Then he looked up at Daigo with one last spark in his eyes.
"Do me a favor... tell that bridge builder... his bridge's got one hell of a storm under it."
Daigo smirked. "You're not that poetic."
"I can be," Raiga coughed blood, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "Fuck off."
Then his chest stopped moving. His eyes didn't close but he was gone.
Still grinning.
Daigo stared for a moment longer, then let out a breath and looked at Ranmaru.
"That's thrice you surprised me today, kid."
The wind shifted, and somewhere behind them the gulls returned to the sea, calling into the silence.
The blood had dried on Daigo's hands, but Zabuza was secured. Ranmaru was breathing, if barely. The Demon of the Mist and the Heart-Eyed Phantom were no longer threats.
Team 7 stood tall on the half-finished bridge, still catching their breath. Haku was unconscious and bound, his face peaceful despite everything. Sakura had reinforced the bindings after Daigo's nod, and Sasuke watched over them both with wary eyes.
Tazuna leaned against a rail, still shaking from adrenaline, while Naruto vibrated with leftover energy.
The blond had been chattering like a squirrel on too much sugar. "I mean, me and Sasuke used that smoke screen from my clone BAM—Haku's down! And I made like—at least fifty clones this time without wasting too much chakra! That's gotta be a record, right? Right?!"
"Idiot," Sasuke muttered without bite, his arms crossed.
"You did good," Sakura said softly, hiding her smile.
Even Tazuna was laughing. "Kid's got a motor for a mouth, huh?"
But then Naruto's eyes fell on Ranmaru. He froze.
"That's the kid," he said, quieter now. "He was with Haku... back at the house. The one in the blanket…"
The mood shifted.
Naruto's fists clenched. "He didn't hurt anyone. Haku didn't either. But what if they had? What if I failed?" His voice cracked. "I was supposed to guard the house…"
Daigo walked up and—without a word—placed a firm hand on Naruto's head.
"Hey," he said, eyes gleaming with warmth. "At least you got a lesson out of it, right?"
Naruto stared at him, stunned. Just like Iruka-sensei…
His eyes stung, and he wiped them furiously. "Shut up! I'm not crying or anything!"
Sakura chuckled, and Sasuke's lips twitched upward. Tazuna clapped Naruto on the back with a wheezy laugh.
"Nothing bad happened, kid. This is a joyful day! Come on, smile a little!"
And then—
TWANG!
Time slowed and Sakura moved like lightning, interposing herself between Tazuna and a streak of silver in the air. An arrow. It would've pierced her forehead.
Daigo's hand snapped out—caught it. The tip grazed Sakura's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
She blinked, stunned. "I—I didn't see it…" It was completely instinct.
Daigo didn't look at her. His voice was like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"The battle isn't over, kids."
Gone was the grin. Gone was the warmth. Daigo turned and there—at the far end of the bridge—stood Gato. Surrounded by an army.
Dozens of mercenaries, bristling with blades and bows. All of them filthy, sneering, drunk on the promise of easy money. Beside Gato stood the archer—eyes wide—until Daigo flicked a taste of killing intent his way.
The man crumpled, foam spilling from his lips. Gato shoved him aside in disgust.
"Idiots," he spat. "Can't even get quality help these days."
Then Gato smiled. "Look, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm a businessman. Whatever Tazuna's paying, I'll double it. Hell, quadruple it! Kill the old man, torch the bridge, and you'll all be rich."
Silence.
Team 7 stared. Was this man stupid?
Sasuke actually tilted his head. "Did he just ask Konoha shinobi… to betray Fire Country?"
"Yup," Daigo said flatly.
Tazuna burst out laughing. "Do you even understand what you're doing?! This bridge helps Fire Country's economy! These shinobi serve Fire Country!"
"Taking your bribe would get us executed," Sakura said, blinking in disbelief.
"Or worse," Sasuke added.
Naruto just looked disgusted. "You'd really kill people over money?"
Gato's smile twisted. "Tazuna deserves to die! Killing his son was a blessing. I'd do it again—and worse! I'd chop his useless son's arms off before burning his brat's corpse and make him watch!"
Naruto stepped forward, chakra boiling off his skin. "You son of a—!"
"Wait." Daigo's voice cut through the air like thunder.
But this time, his grin had returned. He tilted his head.
"…Huh."
Sasuke blinked. "What?"
Daigo's grin widened. "I feel something."
Gato kept ranting, screaming insults until his voice cracked. His men looked at each other, growing uneasy. Some were starting to regret ever joining this suicide charge.
Then—
THUNK.
An arrow embedded itself in the ground before them.
Everyone froze.
Daigo chuckled. "The cavalry's here."
They turned. The villagers have arrived!
Hundreds of them—old, young, armed with shovels, hoes, sticks, knives. Not warriors. Not even close. But they had fire in their eyes.
At the front was Inari, gripping his bow with white knuckles.
"We're not afraid anymore!" he shouted. "Wave belongs to us! Get out, Gato! We're taking our home back!"
Gato laughed, high and shrill. "THIS is your army?! A bunch of kids and farmers?! What a joke!"
Then—
"Multi-Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
The bridge exploded into chaos.
Hundreds of Narutos swarmed the surface—clones scaling pillars, standing on the rails, cracking their knuckles with dangerous grins.
Sasuke unsheathed his blade. Sakura stepped beside him, her eyes narrowed and fierce.
Behind them, the villagers roared.
And Daigo?
He released the flood.
His killing intent swept the bridge like a typhoon. Gato's mercenaries stumbled, some dropping weapons, others shaking, pale and stammering. A few ran outright.
"What the—what is he?!"
"A monster…"
Then the clones struck. Like a tide. The mercenaries never stood a chance.
Behind them, the villagers followed, emboldened by the onslaught. Tazuna watched it all, frozen in awe, eyes watering.
"This bridge…" he whispered. "It's not just strong. It's unbreakable."
Daigo landed beside him, watching the chaos unfold with a small smile.
He remembered Raiga's words:
"Tell that bridge builder… his bridge's got one hell of a storm under it."
He turned to Tazuna and chuckled.
"Storm's here, old man."
And then he joined the fray.
Two hours later, the chaos was over.
The entirety of Gato's mercenary army lay bound in the center of the bridge—stripped down to nothing but their filthy underwear and tied together in a twisted tapestry of limbs, shame, and regret. Not a weapon, coin, or toothpick among them.
The villagers hadn't been gentle.
Years of humiliation. Years of blood taxes. Years of seeing their children cry themselves to sleep while these dogs drank and pillaged.
Retribution had come. Not clean. Not just. But it had come.
One man had his mustache forcibly shaved with a pitchfork. Another was missing an eyebrow. Many had bruises in very creative places. All of them had been thoroughly emptied—wallets, pouches, socks, boots, even gold fillings. Nothing remained but skin and regret.
Some cried.
Most just whimpered.
A few were still unconscious.
On the other side of the bridge, Wave was alive again.
Gato's mansion had been reduced to a looted husk—every drawer emptied, every vault cracked open. The villagers found his wine cellar, and from there, the party began.
Fire pits roared under the moonlight. Songs echoed across the water. The children laughed. The elders danced. Men and women who hadn't smiled in a decade were now drunk on freedom—and literal sake.
They were poor no longer. They were victims no longer.
Wave was theirs again.
Team 7 didn't have any alcohol, of course—but they had their own kind of celebration.
Sasuke was annihilating a basket of tomatoes like a starved animal. He didn't even try to look elegant—just tore into them with feral grace, crimson juice dribbling down his chin.
Naruto sat beside him, locked in a savage war with six cups of ramen. "I'm gonna beat you, Sasuke! Mmph—believe it!"
"You're not even chewing properly," Sasuke muttered between gulps.
"Chewing is for losers!" Naruto barked, face stuffed.
"GO NARUTO!" Inari shouted nearby, hopping excitedly with his slingshot hanging from his neck like a medal. "Eat 'im alive!"
Sakura, sitting cross-legged near the fire, had a balanced plate in hand—boiled eggs, grilled meat, a touch of salad—and chewed thoughtfully.
"Weird," she said.
Naruto blinked. "What's weird?"
She looked up at the stars. "I don't feel scared anymore."
Daigo wasn't celebrating.
He sat in the gutted remains of Gato's private study, candlelight flickering over aged scrolls, golden ledgers, and torn velvet.
In front of him, Gato sat like a puppet with its strings cut. Naked. Eyes vacant. Bruised, but not broken in the way that hurt.
He was writing. Or rather—his hand was. A slow, robotic scrawl under Daigo's watchful gaze.
A detailed will. A different one was already written for a specific person.
Signed under Genjutsu so subtle, not even most Jounin would notice it. A psychic shroud wrapped around Gato's mind like silk, feeding him the illusion of purpose while his actual mind drifted in a fog.
Daigo watched the pen move.
Everything was covered—liquidation of Gato's global accounts, dissolving of his shipping empire, transfer of major assets to the citizens of Wave, criminal admissions logged in ten distinct scrolls, and ownership of his compound granted to the local council. Every piece of leverage, money, bribe, and backdoor clause accounted for.
He'd even filed confessions for smuggling, assassination contracts, economic warfare, and illegal chakra trafficking across all five great nations.
Daigo didn't rush the process.
He let the scumbag's own hand write the confession in full.
When the last signature dried, Daigo carefully sealed everything into a fireproof scroll, stamped it with his personal wax sigil—a silver boar—and stood.
"You're done."
Gato blinked slowly. Daigo raised a finger.
Snap.
The Genjutsu faded. Gato blinked again. The fog didn't lift—he looked barely conscious—but now he was awake enough to feel it. The chill. The shame. The humiliating absence of everything he once owned.
Daigo grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him to the door. Gato stayed unresponsive.
Outside, a group of villagers waited. Farmers turned sentries, calling themselves 'The Enforcers'. Pitchforks, clubs, and even a few salvaged swords slung over their backs.
"Your package," Daigo said, handing Gato over like cargo. "Don't let him bite his tongue or break his neck. We need him alive."
The lead Enforcer nodded. "Understood, Guretsu-sama."
Daigo gave a tired grin. "I'm not your lord. Just a shinobi passing through."
"Maybe," said one of the older villagers. "But that man stole our future. You gave it back."
Daigo just waved him off.
____________________________________________________________________________________
The house was quiet.
Daigo stepped over shattered wood, a broken picture frame crunching under his heel. Tazuna's home was a mess—furniture overturned, walls cracked, bloodstains still clinging to the floorboards. Signs of the mercenary attack were everywhere.
But it wasn't empty.
Not anymore.
In the far corner of what used to be the living room—beneath a flickering lamp and surrounded by upended chairs—three figures sat restrained.
Zabuza and Haku were bound tightly. Ranmaru lay unconscious, gently bandaged, swaddled in a blanket and tied only at the ankles.
Zabuza's visible eye tracked Daigo with unblinking fury. Haku kept his head down, silent, ashamed.
"You're awake," Daigo said, stepping into the room and letting the broken door creak shut behind him.
Zabuza growled. "What gave it away? The blood in my mouth or the smell of this dump?"
"Charming as always," Daigo muttered. He crossed the room with slow steps, boots echoing on splintered floorboards. "Don't worry. You're not the first to insult Tazuna's taste in wallpaper. I think even his daughter hates it."
Zabuza didn't laugh.
Haku didn't lift his gaze.
Daigo stopped a few feet from them and crouched.
"I know what you planned," he said quietly. "Naruto and Sasuke filled me in. You weren't here for Gato's coin alone. Wave was going to be your anchor. A base for the rebellion."
Zabuza's head snapped toward Haku. His glare could have set paper on fire.
Haku flinched. "I didn't tell them everything," he whispered. "Just enough to explain why we fought."
Zabuza scoffed and looked away. "So? We failed. I suppose this is where you kill us, Guretsu." His voice dripped mockery with the name. "Come on, finish it. I don't need a lecture."
Daigo was silent.
Then he sighed. "You're an idiot."
Zabuza blinked. "...What?"
Daigo reached into his coat and pulled out a folded paper. He flicked it open with two fingers and shoved it in Zabuza's face.
"Read it."
Zabuza squinted, annoyed, but obeyed.
His lone eye scanned the page.
Then again.
Then slower.
His body stilled.
Haku leaned forward, confused, until Daigo pulled a second copy from his coat and handed it to him.
Their eyes read the same words:
Gato's Second Will.
All offshore holdings—resorts, land deeds, and offshore accounts—within the Land of Lightning, the Land of Rivers, and the neutral trade isles, are to be transferred to:
Zabuza Momochi.
And upon his death, to his sole heir—
Haku Momochi.
Haku froze.
"…Sole heir?" he breathed. "But that's… that's…"
He looked up at Daigo, eyes trembling. "That says I'm his son."
Zabuza's jaw tightened. Daigo grinned like the bastard he was.
"Oh, right," he said, fishing out another paper. "Forgot this one. Adoption papers. All legal. You'll just need to sign them when the ropes come off."
Zabuza's mouth worked in silence. His eye twitched. "What the hell is your deal, Guretsu?" he growled. "You beat me half to death, humiliated me, and now you're helping me? You gave me property in three countries. What's the damn catch?"
"No catch," Daigo said plainly, tossing the adoption form onto the floor between them. "I'm just not a dick."
He stood.
"You gave me a fight worth remembering. Your kid taught mine some valuable lessons. Hell, all of Team 7 came out stronger because of what you three did. I respect that."
He stepped toward the door, hand resting on the frame.
"I don't want to kill you," Daigo said. "I don't need to kill you. But I will if you step out of line again. Especially near Wave."
He turned. Then paused.
Zabuza had been staring down at the document for nearly a full minute. His shoulders had stopped moving. His chest no longer heaved like a beast. He was still—dead still.
"…Get me out of these damn ties," he muttered.
Daigo's grin stretched, full of teeth and something feral.
He walked back and undid the suppression ropes, one by one. Zabuza didn't flinch. Haku watched with trembling hands, tears starting to shimmer in his eyes.
Zabuza rubbed his wrists and stood slowly, gaze falling on Haku.
Something flickered in that single eye. Recognition. Memory.
A lonely boy in the snow, eyes desperate for someone to see him.
Zabuza sighed. "…You crying?"
Haku rubbed his eyes furiously. "No!"
"Liar," Zabuza muttered—but his voice was softer now. "Help me up, brat."
Haku scrambled to his feet, joy blooming through his movements like spring after frost.
Daigo watched the moment unfold, arms crossed, a slow chuckle building in his chest.
This was what he fought for.
Not just victory. But change.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Two days had passed.
The sea breeze was fresh that morning—cool, salted, and full of promise. The villagers of Wave had gathered along the edge of the Great Bridge, forming a wide half-circle near its midpoint. Some brought flags; others, small drums. Most just brought their voices.
In the distance, they came.
A thunder of disciplined hoofbeats echoed over the planks. And then the Fire Force appeared.
An elite samurai brigade in deep crimson lacquered armor, every man carrying a blade, none of them needing words. They moved with silent purpose, pulling a reinforced steel-and-wood cart fit for dozens. Chains clinked.
The air tensed. These were not mercenaries, nor were they some glorified tax collectors. These were enforcers of the Daimyo's law.
They did not smile.
The cart creaked to a halt, massive and imposing, casting a shadow over the village below the bridge.
Their commander stepped forward.
He was tall, with sharp eyes behind a kabuto helm and a white tassel fluttering behind him. His scarred face bore the look of a man who'd spent decades kneeling to no one but justice.
"Tazuna of Wave," he spoke, voice deep, calm, and absolute. "You have the gratitude of the Land of Fire."
Tazuna blinked. "Uh… huh?"
"You've built a bridge connecting two nations. You stood when others cowered. You struck down oppressors without arms, only resolve. I will report your deeds to the capital—and the Daimyo himself shall know your name."
Gasps rippled through the villagers.
The commander nodded once, then turned his gaze down the span of the bridge.
"…This bridge," he added, "should not remain nameless."
Tazuna stood stunned. Somewhere behind him, Inari clutched Tsunami's sleeve, eyes wide.
And then came the shinobi.
Daigo walked at the front, hands resting on his belt, that ever-present grin tugging his lips. Behind him were Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura, all still bearing signs of recent sparring—but sharper, more awake than they'd ever been before.
The Fire Force general gave a short, professional bow.
"Guretsu," he said plainly.
"Captain," Daigo replied, grinning. "Or is it General now? You keep changing titles every time I see you."
The man ignored the jab.
Daigo reached into his inner coat and handed over a thick stack of parchment, scrolls, and ledger pages.
"Full documentation of Gato's criminal records," Daigo said. "Financial trails, assassinations, bribes. Enough to lock him away in seven countries—eight if the Mist ever pulls itself together."
The general took them without a word, scanning briefly through the top pages. Then, he looked over the second set Daigo handed him—two near-identical wills with different distribution routes. He nodded once.
"These will be transferred to the Justiciaries," he said. "We thank Konoha for its diligence. It's… refreshing to see such clarity from shinobi."
Daigo gave a lazy two-finger salute, the smile never leaving his face.
"What can I say," he replied. "We do our homework."
The general motioned with a single hand.
Chains rattled.
From the village side, the bound mercenaries were marched forward—stripped of weapons, dignity, and pride. They were silent, some trembling, others glaring. And at the center of them all, sagging and broken, was Gato.
Still dazed. Still hollow-eyed. Barely aware of the world around him.
The Fire Force loaded them into the massive transport cart with precise efficiency. No words. No hesitation.
Order.
Justice.
Once the last of them was chained inside, the captain turned to Daigo once more.
"The Fire Force will see this through."
"I never doubted it," Daigo replied, a bit of steel behind the grin.
The cart began to move, the samurai escorting it with silent discipline.
They didn't look back.
But the villagers did.
They raised their voices in cheers. A rumble of joy rolled across the Great Bridge—children on shoulders, elders wiping tears, Tsunami hugging her father, and Inari yelling "YEAH!!" at the top of his lungs.
Naruto jumped up, pumping his fists.
"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talkin' about!"
Sasuke, arms crossed, gave a small nod. Sakura smiled gently, watching Inari bounce up and down.
Daigo turned to Naruto and raised a fist.
The boy blinked—then his grin split from ear to ear, and he jumped up to slam fists with his sensei.
A perfect sync. Grin for grin. Wave cheered. The wind blew.
And for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—hope had a home in the Land of Waves.
The mist was thicker on the far side of the bridge.
Not unnatural—not like the one Haku used in combat—but natural, rising from the ocean in languid swirls, curling between trees as the forest path grew dimmer the further it left the coast.
Footsteps echoed in the wet underbrush.
Zabuza walked alone.
Well, not alone. Not anymore.
He moved silently, shoulders broad, movements fluid despite the dull ache in his bandaged ribs. His sword—still chipped and dulled from battle—was wrapped and slung across his back. And slung beside it, loosely tied to him with a thick rope, was the same burlap sack Raiga once carried with indifference.
Except this time, the sack didn't groan. It didn't twitch or squirm.
Ranmaru was asleep.
The boy's breathing was shallow but calm, the dark rings under his eyes less intense now that Daigo had forcibly purged the drugs and fatigue from his system. His head lolled slightly against Zabuza's shoulder as he walked.
Haku padded beside him, footsteps light but steady, like the shinobi he was trained to be.
They had been walking for hours now, far from Wave, deeper into the untouched forest roads that led vaguely toward the mountains above the Land of Rivers. There was no destination yet, only distance.
"I'm still… not sure why he did it," Haku finally said, voice soft. "Daigo-san, I mean."
Zabuza snorted.
"Because he's a lunatic."
Haku looked down.
Zabuza sighed through his nose. "A generous, annoying, smug bastard of a lunatic."
Haku smiled faintly.
"…He gave you a future," the boy whispered.
Zabuza didn't reply immediately. His eyes stayed forward, focused on the winding road ahead. Mist curled around his legs. Birds cawed somewhere distant.
He adjusted the sack on his back gently, mindful of Ranmaru's weight.
"Tch. Gave you a future," Zabuza muttered. "Now I've got two brats to keep alive. One who throws ice, and another who sees through walls."
"You'll manage," Haku said. "You always do."
"Hmph."
The road forked ahead. Zabuza didn't stop to think—he turned left, toward the hills. Behind him, Haku looked up at the clouds.
He felt… something different.
For the first time since they fled Kiri, he didn't feel like prey.
Zabuza walked on, and after a moment, grumbled low enough for only the mist to hear:
"Damn grinning bastard."
_______________________________________________________________________________
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the Great Bridge.
Dozens of villagers crowded near its start, forming a wide half-circle around the departing shinobi.
Naruto was crying.
Not just crying—wailing. Big fat tears streamed down his cheeks, snot bubbling from his nose as he squeezed Inari in a vice grip of a hug that threatened to pop the poor kid's spine.
"I'm gonna miss you, Inari!!"
"ME TOO, NARUTO-NIIII!!!"
The two were tangled in a puddle of mutual waterworks.
Sasuke stood off to the side with a palm firmly over his face. "Embarrassing…"
Sakura sighed, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Let them have their moment."
Daigo just chuckled in his usual deep, rumbling way, arms crossed as he watched the scene with faint amusement. "Let 'em cry it out. Better now than mid-mission."
After a few minutes of sobbing, Tsunami, also misty-eyed, gently peeled the two boys apart, patting both their heads lovingly.
Naruto finally returned to his team, wiping at his face with a sleeve that was already soaked, his usual grin breaking through the tears. Inari waved with both arms, his face red and puffy.
Daigo stepped up to Tazuna, offering a hand.
"Well, guess this is it, old man."
Tazuna took it and shook, smiling beneath his gray beard. "Yeah… it is. You know…" he looked past Daigo at the trio of Genin, "I hadn't really named this bridge yet. Figured it was time to change that."
He turned, voice loud now—addressing the entire crowd. "I spoke to my family. The people. This bridge… wasn't just mine. I may've designed it, but Wave built it. And we didn't do it alone."
He turned back to Team 7.
"We thought it over. And we all agreed—this bridge wouldn't stand here without you four. Although, the bridge's name would go better with his."
Tazuna pointed to Naruto, whose eyes went wide.
"We're calling it: The Great Naruto Bridge."
Silence.
Then Naruto's mouth opened. His brain short-circuited.
"…I GOT A BRIDGE NAMED AFTER ME?!?! THAT. IS. SO. COOL!!!"
The villagers erupted into laughter, clapping and cheering while Naruto struck a dramatic pose on instinct. Tazuna laughed until his back hurt. Even Sasuke cracked a reluctant smirk.
Daigo raised a brow, then smirked. "Not bad for a loudmouth brat."
Sakura nodded. "He kind of earned it."
Naruto turned to the bridge, stars in his eyes. "Man… this is the best mission ever."
As the cheering died down, Daigo rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, unsealing his summoning scroll with a flick of his wrist. With a burst of smoke—
The Chariot Cart reappeared.
Massive. Menacing. Metal-plated. A monstrosity of a vehicle with enough force to qualify as a battlefield hazard.
Tazuna paled instantly.
Naruto's face lit up like the sun.
"YEEESSSSSSS!!"
He darted forward and leapt into the cart like it was his throne. Sasuke groaned but followed him in. Sakura rolled her eyes and hopped up beside them.
Daigo followed, snapping his fingers as he summoned the same pair of boars from before—hulking, snorting beasts that snarled as he secured them to the cart.
With a last wave to the villagers, Daigo gave a thumbs-up.
"Take care of that bridge, old man."
Tazuna waved, already leaning on his knees. "Just—don't break my road with that death machine again!"
Daigo grinned wide, climbed up to the driver's seat, and snapped the reins.
"Let's ride, boys!"
The boars roared. The cart lurched. The whole thing rocketed forward, kicking up dust, wind, and an earthquake's worth of rumble.
Naruto and Daigo howled in unison as they vanished down the bridge, their cries echoing across the sea:
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
Back at the bridge's base, Inari stood in awe, fists clenched, eyes burning with inspiration.
"…I wanna do that one day…"
Tazuna, still pale, gagged. "Nope. No, no. NEVER. Absolutely not."
The villagers laughed as the cart vanished into the horizon, carrying Team 7 home.
Long after the sounds of cheering faded…
Long after the chariot cart vanished into the horizon, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake…
The winds rolled gently over the cliffside east of the Great Naruto Bridge, whistling faintly through the trees that overlooked the sea. The sun was dipping into the horizon, casting orange and gold hues across the waves below.
There, on a quiet bluff where the sound of ocean waves met the whisper of wind…
A single grave stood.
A makeshift stone marker, heavy and weathered, but carefully placed.
On it, crudely carved with a kunai:
Raiga Kurotsuchi — A Blade in the Storm —
There were no flowers. No fanfare. Just the sword he once carried—one of the Kiba blades—stabbed deep into the earth beside it. Its twin had vanished with Zabuza, taken as part of Daigo's offer. But this one remained, upright, unmoving. A silent sentinel over its fallen wielder.
Beside the grave sat a small wooden amulet.
A hand-carved figurine, crudely shaped like a boy with wild hair and a big smile. Ranmaru had carved it—long ago.
It rested gently in the soil.
The earth had been smoothed, the dirt fresh. Someone had taken the time to bury him. Someone who, despite it all, honored him with a warrior's sendoff.
Maybe it was Haku.
Maybe it was Zabuza.
Maybe it was Daigo.
No one would ever say.
But the grave remained.
Quiet. Forgotten by most.
Yet watched over by the wind and the waves.