The noon sun hammered Wave like a smith at his forge. The training yard just beyond the tavern was nothing more than a strip of beaten earth, but under Escanor's command, it had become a crucible.
Sweat slicked every recruit's back. Men stumbled, groaning under the weight of boulders they carried up and down the incline at the yard's edge. Others practiced in formations, spears leveled in tight rows while Escanor stalked between them, massive axe balanced on one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all.
"Raise them higher!" his voice thundered, deep and commanding. "Do you mean to strike your enemies in the knees? If so, begone from my sight—Wave has no use for cowards!"
The recruits' arms shook as they lifted their weapons.
Ren stood in the shade of a tree, arms folded, eyes sharp. His Sharingan glowed faintly, reading every tremor, every faltering step. He wasn't here to enjoy the spectacle. He was calculating. Discipline. Endurance. Unity. These were the things that won wars, not lone flashes of talent. Escanor was molding villagers, ex-thugs, and runaway fishermen into something useful.
Gojo lounged on a fencepost nearby, his blindfold tilted as he smirked. "Gotta say, Boss, I like his style. Loud, terrifying, and somehow still inspiring. Almost reminds me of me."
Ren didn't look at him. "Almost."
Zabuza leaned against the fence on the other side, arms crossed, bandages shifting with his scowl. "Your lion's training is brutal. Half of them will break before the week's out."
"Then they weren't worth keeping," Ren said calmly. "The ones who endure will be stronger than any hired sword Gato ever paid."
Zabuza grunted, but he didn't argue. Even he could see the difference: the recruits who hadn't collapsed yet were sharper with every drill, their fear of failure overridden by something fiercer—the will not to fall under Escanor's blazing eyes.
When the sun fell, Wave's air softened. Fishermen hauled nets to dry, families cooked over open fires, and laughter rose from the tavern that had become the heart of the village: The Sun's Respite.
Inside, Escanor was a different man entirely. His shoulders sloped, his steps careful. His voice was gentle as he poured ale into mugs, bowing slightly with each serving. "Forgive me, kind sir—ah, here, a fresh one. On the house for your troubles today."
Recruits crowded the tables, sore from training but smiling faintly, encouraged by Escanor's quiet care. Farmers shared bread, dockworkers swapped stories, and rumors drifted as easily as the smoke from the fire pit.
Haku sat at a corner table, listening more than speaking. His soft presence drew no attention, but every whisper reached him: a merchant who had bribed guards last year, a sailor speaking of strange boats near the southern cape, a farmer relieved the new tax decrees actually held. Later, he would condense it into precise reports for Ren.
Gojo leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the table. "You know," he said loudly enough for half the room to hear, "I almost prefer him like this. Daytime, he's all 'kneel before the sun.' At night, he's basically the island's favorite bartender. I call that range."
Laughter rippled, and even Escanor, cheeks coloring, smiled timidly. "I-I simply wish to ease their burdens. If that pleases the Order, then I am content."
Ren sipped quietly from his cup, but inside, he marked the effect. By day, Escanor broke men down. By night, he gave them reason to rise again. The duality wasn't a flaw—it was exactly what the Order needed.
Later that night, when the tavern emptied and the embers burned low, Escanor collected mugs with nervous hands. Ren stayed behind, waiting until the last door shut before speaking.
"You doubt yourself," Ren said quietly.
Escanor froze. "I…" His meek eyes lowered. "When I am like this, I feel unworthy. The men follow me when the sun gives me strength. But now? I am… nothing."
Ren stepped closer, his voice steady. "You're wrong. The lion terrifies them. The lamb binds them together again. Both are necessary. Both are you."
Escanor's hand trembled around a mug. He looked up, searching Ren's expression, and found only certainty. "…You truly believe both sides are useful?"
"I don't waste tools," Ren said simply. "And I don't waste people. You're not here because of your pride or your meekness. You're here because you're Escanor. That's enough."
The man's eyes widened. Then, with surprising delicacy for his massive frame, he bowed deeply. "Then I will serve—proud and humble, day and night—until Eclipse rises beyond even your vision."
From the doorway, Gojo clapped slowly. "Touching. Really touching. Almost makes me cry." He smirked under the blindfold. "But just to be clear, Boss—you're still my favorite."
Ren rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
At the hilltop estate, the daimyo sat with merchants in a chamber lined with scrolls. They praised his decrees—reduced taxes, fair pay for bridge workers, safe markets. Outwardly, he accepted the compliments with polite bows. Inwardly, he knew the truth: the words were not his.
When the last merchant left, Ren stepped from the shadows. His Sharingan dimmed to black as he approached the desk. "You'll sign these," he said, placing another sheaf of decrees.
The daimyo's hand shook as he lifted the brush. "Must I continue this charade?"
Ren's gaze hardened. "Wave thrives because of the charade. You are the face. We are the hands. That balance will not change."
The man swallowed hard and signed.
Ren turned to leave, his cloak brushing the tatami. Power doesn't always sit on the throne. Sometimes it pulls the strings behind it.
Far from Wave, other forces stirred.
In Kirigakure, a Mizukage aide placed a scroll before the ruling council. "Reports confirm that Zabuza lives. He wields the Kubikiribōchō, seen in Wave." Murmurs rippled. A squad was ordered to investigate.
In Konoha, Danzo sat in the Root's dim chamber, cane tapping. "Shikaku's report is cautious to the point of uselessness. Eclipse grows under our nose, and Hiruzen dithers." He ordered another probe, this time through subtlety: merchants, smugglers, informants. "We will choke them quietly."
Two shadows moved toward Wave, unseen by its people.
On the cliffs, Ren stood alone, watching the moonlight shimmer on the half-finished bridge. His Sharingan spun slowly, but his eyes were turned inward.
In the story I knew, Naruto would come here with Team 7. He would fight Zabuza. He would change Haku's heart. He would make Wave believe in hope. That was supposed to be his first step as a hero.
His hands clenched at his sides. But I've taken that stage. Wave no longer waits for Naruto. It waits for me.
Doubt flickered, but he crushed it. If I leave history alone, it ends in endless wars. Pain will destroy Konoha. Obito will bring the Moon's Eye. Madara, Kaguya—all of it. I can't let it happen again. If I've stolen Naruto's stage, then I'll make sure the story we write here doesn't need a savior later. It will need order. My order.
Fog curled off the sea as if answering.
Behind him, Escanor approached, meek in the moonlight. "You should rest, young master. Tomorrow the drills continue."
Ren looked back, then nodded once. "Yes. Tomorrow."
By dawn, the training yard roared again with Escanor's booming pride. By night, the tavern hummed with whispers that Haku collected. Gojo laughed through both, the Order's face to the world. Zabuza's cleaver kept the threats away, while Ren pulled strings the daimyo couldn't resist.
Eclipse Order was becoming a system—chains tightening link by link, forged in sunlight and shadow alike.
And Wave, once a broken island, now breathed under their rule without even realizing it.