Wave Country smelled different now. The reek of fear that had hung over the island like damp fog was thinning, replaced by salt air and the hesitant smoke of cooking fires. Villagers no longer bolted their doors at sunset. The streets, once prowled by Gato's thugs, were slowly filling with carts of lumber, sacks of grain, and children daring to laugh again.
But beneath that fragile peace, another power was rooting itself into the soil.
The Eclipse Order moved quietly, like ink spreading across paper.
Gato's ledgers had not been burned; Ren had claimed them. By candlelight, the boy sat with parchment taller than his frame, fingers tracing columns of numbers, lists of ships, names of merchants and smugglers. To most eyes, he was still just a child. But when he closed those eyes, red tomoe spun faintly, sharpening every word until patterns formed.
In the story I remember, this bridge was meant to be Naruto's stage — the place he first proved his dream to the world. Zabuza and Haku were supposed to fall here. The people of Wave were supposed to look at a blond boy and see hope.
His hand tightened around the charcoal. But Naruto isn't here yet. I am. And if I leave things to play out like before, Wave will barely survive. That's not enough. I'll turn it into something stronger — a chain in the order I'll forge.
"This one's loyal to money," Ren murmured, circling a name with a piece of charcoal. "This one fears his wife more than bandits—easy to bribe, harder to threaten. And this one…" He tapped the page. "This one's ambitious. Ambition breaks faster than fear."
Gojo sprawled across the floor beside him, blindfold tilted lazily. "Look at you, Boss. Konoha's accountants would weep with pride. Or terror."
Ren smirked without looking up. "Somebody has to keep our books balanced. And it sure isn't you."
"True," Gojo agreed cheerfully. "I'd just add extra zeroes until everyone panicked."
Across the room, Zabuza leaned against the wall, arms folded, bandages shifting as he scowled. "We're wasting time with paperwork. We've got muscle. Let's take the island by the throat and squeeze."
Ren set the charcoal down, calm. "If you crush the throat, no one breathes. No trade, no food, no soldiers. I don't want ruins, Zabuza. I want roots."
Zabuza's scowl deepened. "You talk like a daimyo. But you're a boy."
"And you follow my orders," Ren said simply.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Gojo's chuckle. "Ooooh, checkmate. Kid's got fangs after all."
That was when the sliding door opened, and a figure stepped inside.
Long dark hair framed a delicate face, too pretty to be mistaken for a common thug. Brown eyes softened when they met Ren's, and the faintest smile touched his lips. He carried himself with quiet grace, movements measured, precise.
"Zabuza-sama," the boy said, bowing slightly. His voice was soft, almost musical. "You asked me to report."
Ren tilted his head. Haku. He remembered the boy's story from another life: a child who killed his own father to survive, who found belonging only at Zabuza's side, who would one day die on a bridge smiling through blood.
Not this time.
Zabuza pushed off the wall. "This is Haku. My weapon. My apprentice. The only one I trust not to stab me in my sleep."
Gojo sat up, grinning. "Weapon? Please. I'd call him runway material with a side of ice needles."
Haku blinked at the comment, then gave a polite bow toward Ren. "If you are the one giving orders, then… it is an honor to serve, Young Master."
Ren raised a brow. "Young Master?"
"You are young," Haku said earnestly, "but Zabuza-sama respects you. That is enough for me."
Gojo whistled. "Well, well. Polite, deadly, and fashionable. I like him already."
Zabuza grunted. "Don't get attached. He's mine."
"Relax," Gojo teased. "I'm not trying to steal your boy toy."
Haku's cheeks colored faintly, but his composure held. Ren, however, leaned forward with interest. "So, Haku. If I gave you responsibility, would you carry it? Not just killing, but keeping something alive?"
"Yes," Haku answered instantly, without hesitation. "Life is precious. If your path preserves it, then I will walk it."
Ren studied him, then pushed one of Gato's ledgers across the table. "The rice shipments. They come by boat every two weeks. Merchants are used to paying tribute to Gato's men. I want them to pay us instead—but willingly. Make them believe Eclipse Order's protection is better than fear."
Haku accepted the book with a small bow. "Consider it done."
Days later, the docks of Wave were calmer than they had been in years. The merchants no longer flinched at every shadow. Instead, a quiet figure greeted them with polite bows, soft words, and promises that no one would touch their ships so long as they honored the new order.
When rumors spread that one man who refused to cooperate vanished into the mist and never returned, the rest fell in line swiftly. But none of them blamed Haku. They trusted him. They feared Zabuza. They whispered about the phantom in black. And they did not even notice the boy with red eyes quietly watching from a rooftop, memorizing every face.
Ren's Sharingan narrowed. In the anime, Naruto convinced them to believe in hope. Here, they believe because they fear what's in the shadows. Hope or fear—either way, the chain tightens. The difference is mine to write.
The Eclipse Order was no longer three men in the night.
It was a presence.
At the bridge, workers found tools waiting for them, debts cleared overnight. In the taverns, thugs vanished, replaced by quiet guards who took orders from no village daimyo. On the streets, mothers realized they could walk without looking over their shoulders.
"Maybe it's the daimyo sending us aid," one villager said.
"No," another whispered. "It's them. The ones who killed Gato."
"The phantom. The demon swordsman. The child with red eyes."
"Spirits or devils, I don't care. We're safer now than before."
And so the Eclipse Order's shadow settled comfortably over Wave, not as a conqueror, but as a chain so smooth most didn't feel it tighten.
Inside their hideout, the four sat together for the first time.
Gojo balanced backward on a chair, grinning under his blindfold. "Congratulations, Boss. You've got yourself a country. Well, a very soggy island, but still."
Ren shook his head. "Not yet. This is just a foothold. Wave is our first chain. The world is full of them—villages, clans, nations. Each one linked to the next. Break the weak ones, strengthen the strong ones, and eventually…"
He let the thought hang.
In the story I knew, nations would burn one after another until the cycle of hatred reached its peak. Pain would level Konoha. Obito would drag the world into war. Madara and Kaguya would rise. All of it, built on division. If I don't act, history repeats itself. But if I do… then maybe the chain breaks here.
Zabuza's laugh was low and harsh. "You sound insane. Talking about binding nations when you can't even reach the table without a stool."
But his words held no venom, only reluctant amusement.
Gojo twirled a finger. "Insanity's fun. And honestly? I'm in. The stronger the enemies, the more stylish my entrances get."
Then Haku's voice joined, quiet but steady. "If your world truly protects the weak… then it is the world I want too."
Ren met his gaze and nodded once. "Good. Then Wave is ours."
But beyond the shores, the sea was not empty.
On a moonless night, a small boat cut silently through the water. Inside, masked figures crouched low, their chakra signatures hidden. Their voices were flat, precise.
"Target: Uchiha survivor. Confirmation required."
"Secondary: eliminate the blindfolded man if possible."
"Orders from Danzo-sama."
Root ANBU stepped onto Wave's sands, their blades gleaming faintly in the dark.
The hunters had come.