Wave smelled of salt and rot. The sea wind carried the stench of fish mixed with unwashed bodies and fear. Streets were cracked, roofs sagged, and every corner had thugs with mismatched armor leaning on spears. Their laughter was always too loud.
Ren walked quietly, eyes lowered, but he listened to everything—the villagers' footsteps, their fearful silences, even the way they flinched at the sight of guards. Beside him, Gojo strolled with his hands in his pockets, humming tunelessly as if they were tourists.
"Charming place," Gojo muttered, head tilting. "Has that nice, dictator-chic vibe."
"Gato's grip," Ren said softly. "Everything rots from him down."
A woman dragging a bucket glanced at them, then quickly looked away. People here had learned not to notice strangers. Not to hope.
In the original story, Naruto would come here years from now and inspire them. But Naruto's still a child in Konoha. If I do nothing, they'll suffer until then. No… I'll cut this chain early. Wave belongs to me now.
It changed when they reached the square.
A boy stumbled, dropping a crate of fish. They spilled across the stones, and one thug ground a fish under his heel, smirking.
"Street tax," he barked. "Gato's orders."
The boy bent to pick up what was left, hands trembling.
Ren knelt beside him, helping gather the fish. His voice was calm, quiet. "Take them. Use the alleys."
The boy blinked at him, confused, but clutched the crate and ran.
The thug stepped forward, sneer widening. "Hey. What do you think you're doing, brat?"
Gojo tilted his head, blindfold catching the light. "Pretty sure he's not paying your fake tax."
The thug barked a laugh. "Then he pays with blood." He thrust his spear forward.
It never reached. Gojo tapped him lightly on the chest with one finger. The man flew back like a sack of grain, crashing into a wall.
The other thugs stared.
"Who the hell are you?" one shouted.
Ren straightened, eyes narrowing. "The ones who don't pay."
The crowd went silent. Villagers stared from doorways, whispering.
Another thug lunged. Ren's kunai flashed, wrapped in a thin glow of cursed energy. He parried, spun, and slammed his elbow into the man's gut. The thug collapsed, wheezing.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Someone whispered, "He fights like a shinobi…"
Then, as Ren turned, his eyes flared red. One tomoe spun in each Sharingan.
The square froze.
"R-Red eyes…" a woman breathed.
"It can't be—"
"The Uchiha were wiped out!" a man whispered hoarsely.
Another thug stumbled back, face pale. "No… I saw the reports. They're dead! All of them!"
Villagers stared, torn between awe and fear. A ghost clan walking again.
Gojo chuckled, hands still in his pockets. "Oh look, Boss. You broke their brains. Don't worry, it happens a lot when you flash the fancy headlights."
Ren ignored him, keeping his gaze on the thugs. "Leave. Tell your master his leash is too short."
They hesitated only a second before fleeing.
That night, the square buzzed with whispers.
"A child… an Uchiha child…"
"I saw the red eyes myself!"
"But they're supposed to be gone…"
"Not gone. Not if he's here."
The thugs returned at dawn, twice as many. Their leader, a man with a fur collar, pointed his sword at Ren.
"You've stirred up trouble, brat. Do you even know who you're crossing?"
"Yes," Ren said simply. "Trash."
Gasps ran through the crowd of villagers watching.
The leader snarled. "Kill him!"
The mob surged forward. Spears thrust.
Ren's Sharingan spun, tomoe predicting every strike. He slipped between them, kunai biting wrists, cursed energy humming faintly around his blade. He didn't kill. He disarmed, broke, dropped men to the ground.
"Dead men don't talk," he muttered.
Gojo leaned lazily against a wall, grinning. "Merciful again, Boss? You're ruining my reputation. I'd have made a bloodbath."
Ren parried a sword, kicked its wielder into a trough, and replied calmly, "We're not here to be butchers. We're here to spread fear."
Within minutes, the mob lay scattered. The fur-collared leader stumbled back, face pale. "You… you're a demon."
"No," Ren said coldly. "Your demon hasn't come yet."
The man fled, shouting about bringing the real one.
Ren sheathed his kunai. "He'll come."
Gojo stretched, yawning. "Finally. Let's meet your demon."
The fog rolled in before dawn. Thick, heavy, unnatural.
Ren walked into the forest, Gojo a step behind. The trees pressed close, shadows deepened. In the clearing ahead, a man leaned on a sword taller than Ren. Bandages hid his face. His scratched Mist forehead protector gleamed in the pale light.
Momochi Zabuza. The Demon of the Mist.
His gaze swept over them. "So. You're the brat who embarrassed my employer's men."
Gojo grinned. "Employer. That's a cute word for leash."
Zabuza's eyes flicked to him, then back to Ren. His voice rumbled low. "Red eyes… Sharingan."
The word carried weight. Even he, a Mist rogue, knew the stories.
"I thought your clan was ash," Zabuza said slowly. "Only the youngest was spared. Yet here you stand. Another ghost."
Ren's gaze was steady. "Not a ghost. Proof the Leaf's grip is weaker than they want the world to believe."
Careful. In the original story, this man was Naruto's enemy and his test. But if I win him now, he becomes my blade instead of Konoha's corpse. This is where the chain shifts.
Zabuza studied him, then barked a harsh laugh. "Big words for a brat. But a leash is still a leash. What are you offering me? Gato pays in gold. What do you pay in?"
"Not coin," Ren said. His voice was calm, but sharp. "I offer a chance to carve history. Not scraps. Not hired blades. Names written in fire."
Zabuza's laugh was low, dangerous. "History, is it? I killed for a dream once. It broke. Now I kill for money."
"Then you're wasting your name," Ren said. "The Demon of the Mist, reduced to babysitting a merchant. A dog with a broken chain."
Zabuza's grin turned wolfish. "Careful, brat. Dogs bite."
"That's why I came."
The fog thickened. Vision blurred. Sound warped. The Hidden Mist Jutsu swallowed the clearing.
Zabuza's voice growled from everywhere at once. "Let's see if those red eyes of yours are worth anything."
Ren's Sharingan spun, tomoe slicing through the haze. His breath slowed, steady.
Gojo leaned against a tree, smiling under his blindfold. "Try not to die, Boss. I like this one."
Steel hissed through the mist.
The clash began.