Wave was changing.
The markets filled earlier each morning now. Fishmongers raised their voices with something close to pride, no longer shrinking at every shout. Children ran between stalls again, daring to laugh without being cuffed by a thug for the noise.
The thugs were gone. Gato's men either dead, vanished, or suddenly very polite.
The people whispered in doorways, careful not to be overheard.
"They say the boy with red eyes did it."
"No, no, it was the demon swordsman."
"You're both wrong. My cousin saw a tall man in black, blindfolded. He made blades freeze in the air."
"I heard there's a boy who bows and smiles but can freeze you with one look."
"Spirits… demons… whatever they are, Wave is breathing again."
Ren listened to those whispers from a rooftop, cloak tugged by the salt wind. His Sharingan dimmed as he closed his eyes.
In the story I knew, this was where Naruto turned Wave into a symbol of hope. But I'm here now. Hope is not enough. If I leave it to chance, the cycle repeats. Pain, Obito, Madara, Kaguya… it all comes again. If the world insists on chains, then I'll forge the strongest ones.
Below, Gojo strolled through the street with his usual lazy confidence, stopping to lean into a stall and sniff grilled squid before wandering on. Zabuza stood further off, silent as a carved statue, the Kubikiribōchō resting on his shoulder. Haku moved like a shadow near the docks, exchanging quiet words with merchants.
The Eclipse Order was no longer just three blades in the dark. It was becoming something larger. Something the world would notice.
And that meant one more step had to be taken.
The daimyo of Wave Country lived in a small estate inland, surrounded by rice paddies and a thin line of guards who cared more about gambling than defending him. He was not cruel, not like Gato, but he was weak. He had let Gato buy his silence with gifts and threats. He had let his country rot while hiding behind fine curtains and fat meals.
That made him dangerous in a different way. A weak ruler was a doorway for anyone stronger to walk through.
Ren spread a scroll across the table inside their hideout. The ledgers Gato once held were stacked neatly beside it.
"We control the docks," Ren said, tapping the parchment. "We control the markets. We control the streets. But we don't control the seat. The daimyo is still there. He can still be used by someone else."
Zabuza grunted. "Then we cut off the head."
"No." Ren's tone was calm, sharp. "Dead daimyo means chaos. The people panic. Neighboring lords send their own men to 'restore order.' We don't need another invader. We need a puppet."
Gojo, sprawled backward in a chair with his hands behind his head, grinned under the blindfold. "Ohhh, Boss is learning politics. Next thing you know, you'll be raising taxes and drafting speeches."
Ren ignored him. "If the daimyo bends to us, Wave bends with him. He'll be the face. We'll be the hand behind it."
Zabuza scowled. "You're still a boy. You talk like a daimyo yourself."
Ren met his gaze without blinking. "And you follow my orders."
The air went heavy for a beat. Zabuza's shoulders rose once, then lowered. No protest.
Haku's quiet voice filled the silence. "If this path gives the people peace, then I will walk it."
Ren nodded. "Then we visit the daimyo tonight."
The estate was lit with soft lanterns, the kind meant to impress guests rather than protect against blades. Guards dozed at the gates. Zabuza's shadow fell across them, and they shrank back without a word, as if sensing a predator.
Inside, a hall of polished wood and expensive drapes opened to a small throne room. The daimyo, a plump man in embroidered robes, nearly dropped his wine cup when Gojo appeared already seated in his chair.
"Wow," Gojo said cheerfully, lounging sideways. "Nice seat. A little stiff. Could use a cushion."
The daimyo stammered, face draining. "Wh—who are you? How did you— Guards!"
Zabuza slammed the butt of his cleaver into the floor. The sound cracked like thunder. Every guard in the room froze.
Ren stepped forward, Sharingan glowing faintly. "Sit down, Daimyo."
The man collapsed back into his chair, sweating. His eyes darted between the red glow of Ren's eyes, Zabuza's towering blade, and Gojo's lazy grin.
"P-please," he stammered. "If it's money you want, I—"
"Not money," Ren cut him off, voice cold. "Gato paid you in gold. And you let him choke your people for it."
The daimyo shook his head furiously. "I—I had no choice. He threatened—"
"You always have a choice," Ren said. His tomoe spun, and the daimyo's pupils dilated.
The room around him vanished. In its place, he stood in darkness, chains glowing faintly around his arms and legs, coiling tighter with every breath. A child's figure stood before him, red eyes burning like coals.
"These are your chains," Ren's voice echoed through the illusion. "Gato held them before. Now I do. If you obey, the chains will not tighten. If you resist, they will break your bones until nothing is left."
The daimyo fell to his knees, gasping. "Please! Don't—don't kill me. I'll do anything!"
"Not anything." Ren's voice softened, but it was sharper for it. "Do exactly what I say. Sign what I give you. Speak only what I allow. Wave will look to you, but every order will be mine."
The daimyo sobbed. "Yes! Yes, I swear!"
The illusion shattered. The man slumped in his chair, sweat soaking his robes. Ren stood before him, eyes still faintly glowing.
Gojo stretched and whistled. "Well. That was terrifying. Love the chains, Boss. Very thematic."
Zabuza leaned on his sword. "So the fat lord bends. What now?"
"Now," Ren said, "he serves. And no one outside this room will ever know he's mine."
Haku stepped closer, voice calm. "The people will see their daimyo changing. They'll believe he finally cares."
"Exactly," Ren replied. "He lowers taxes for fishermen. He clears debts for builders. He funds the bridge again. They'll think it's his will. But every decree comes from me."
The daimyo nodded rapidly, eyes wide with terror.
Ren's lips curled faintly. "Good. Then Wave belongs to Eclipse Order."
The next days passed with strange, quiet changes.
The daimyo announced reduced taxes on fishermen. Shopkeepers who once feared collectors found their debts erased. Guards patrolled the roads not to rob travelers but to keep them safe. The bridge's workers were paid on time.
Villagers whispered in amazement.
"Did you hear? The daimyo forgave half the taxes!"
"Impossible. He never cared before."
"Maybe he's afraid. Or maybe the spirits forced him."
"Whatever it is, Wave is breathing again."
They never noticed the shadows on the rooftops. They never saw Ren's red eyes watching from the dark.
On the cliffs above the inlet, Ren stood with his companions. The sea stretched black and silver beneath the moon.
Zabuza crossed his arms. "So the daimyo's your puppet. Clever, brat. You've got Wave tied up neat."
"Not neat," Ren corrected. "Strong."
Gojo leaned against a rock, grinning. "Look at you. Barely tall enough to see over the table, and already running a country. I should start calling you 'Your Majesty.'"
Ren's gaze stayed on the bridge, half-finished ribs jutting into the mist. "The bridge will be Naruto's story. But the country? The country is mine now."
Haku's quiet voice drifted over the waves. "If your chains truly protect the people… then I will follow you without doubt."
Ren closed his eyes for a moment. He saw flashes of the future he remembered: villages burning, wars repeating, Pain's shadow falling on Konoha.
Not this time.
When he opened his eyes, the Sharingan glowed red, tomoe spinning steady. "Wave is our first chain. From here, we build the rest."
Behind him, the daimyo slept fitfully in his estate, dreaming of chains that would never loosen.
And across the sea, whispers began to spread: Wave had changed overnight. Some said it was luck. Others said it was fear. But all agreed: a new power had settled in the mists.
A power without a name.
A power the world would one day call Eclipse Order.