OBITO UCHIHA
The mist clung to the forest like a shroud, with the drak of the night, thick and oppressive, much like the weight that had settled in Obito's chest as he watched from his perch among trees up the cliff.
Below, flashes of steel caught what little light filtered through the gray veil, accompanied by the sharp clang of metal against metal. His single visible eye tracked the movement with detached interest, though something deeper—something he refused to acknowledge—stirred within him as he recognized the familiar shock of blonde hair weaving between the demon's strikes.
His sensei's son. The thought tasted bitter, acrid old blood on his tongue. The boy moved with an echo of his father's grace, though rougher, untrained. Still alive. Still breathing. Still carrying that insufferable spark that reminded Obito of everything he'd once believed in, everything that had been torn away with Rin's final scream.
His right side itched beneath the mask, the phantom sensation of scars that ran deeper than flesh. He resisted the urge to scratch. That would disturb the careful barrier between himself and the world.
The orange jumpsuit below blurred in his vision for a moment, replaced by the memory of another figure in orange goggles, laughing too loudly and dreaming too big. That stupid boy was dead now. Had been dead for years.
Zabuza's massive blade sang through the air, and Obito's lip curled in disgust beneath his mask. The Demon of the Mist—what a pathetic sight he made now. Bloodied, breathing hard, struggling against genins.
Perhaps Obito had misjudged him after all. The man had refused his invitation to join the Akatsuki with the arrogance of someone who believed himself untouchable. But he had yet to lift a finger, and here he was, wounded from his encounter with that Konoha jounin and now reduced to this sorry display.
Maybe it was better that Zabuza had declined. The Akatsuki had no use for weakness.
The ground beside him rippled and shifted and blurred. Zetsu emerged like some grotesque flower blooming from dirt. The venus flytrap split open with a wet sound that always reminded Obito of tearing flesh. Black Zetsu's half fixed him with that knowing stare while White Zetsu's side tilted curiously toward the battle below.
"He's on his way," Black Zetsu said without preamble, his voice carrying that familiar undertone of cold patience and barely concealed contempt.
Obito spared him the briefest glance, his Sharingan spinning lazily in its socket before stilling again.
"Ooh, the pretty ice boy is making mirrors again!" White Zetsu's attention had already wandered to the spectacle below, his half of their shared body practically vibrating with curiosity. "So shiny! I wonder if he can see himself in all of them at once—that must be confusing. Like having a hundred different angles of your own face staring back at you!"
"Pathetic technique," Black Zetsu observed, his tone flat with disdain. "All flash, no substance. The boy relies too heavily on speed and misdirection. Against opponents with proper training and experience, such tactics would crumble within moments."
"But it's working though!" White Zetsu protested, practically bouncing. "Look at the blonde one spinning around like a confused little pumpkin! Eh, more like a carrot. And the pale boy with the drawing scrolls—he's trying so hard to look calm, but his hands are shaking. Fear makes people do funny things, doesn't it?"
"The Uzumaki brat has more chakra than sense," Black Zetsu continued, ignoring his counterpart's enthusiasm. "Brute force without finesse. His father's legacy reduced to mere volume over technique. How... fitting."
White Zetsu giggled, a sound like wind chimes made of bone. "The ice mirrors are pretty, but they're just a cage, aren't they? Like a beautiful prison! The boy in there is just as trapped as his targets—he can't leave without breaking his own technique. Self-imposed limitations are so tragic!"
"Strategic oversight born from inexperience," Black Zetsu agreed with cold satisfaction. "Zabuza failed to properly train his tool. The child has power but lacks the ruthlessness to use it effectively. He hesitates, shows mercy. Such weakness will be his undoing."
"Oh! Oh! The quiet one just did something clever with his ink creatures!" White Zetsu clapped his hands together. "Drawing on the mirrors—how creative! Though I bet that ice boy didn't expect his pretty technique to become someone else's canvas. Art attacking art! It's like... like poetry fighting with painting! Deidera would have loved to see this!"
Obito's eye narrowed as he watched Sai's ink constructs take shape on the reflective surfaces. Danzo's child soldier. Another product of Konoha's endless cycle of creating weapons from children.
"Not sure there are not many explosions….." Black Zetsu's dark gaze fixed on Obito with uncomfortable intensity. "Are you reconsidering, Madara? Should we abort the trap till the fight ends? When the Konoha's shinobi made their retreat or….died?"
For a moment—just a fleeting instant—Obito allowed himself to imagine it; Naruto falling beneath Zabuza's blade.
Would Minato feel that hollowness, that consuming void that had devoured Obito's heart when Kakashi's Chidori pierced Rin's chest? Would the Fourth Hokage finally understand what his failure had cost?
The thought brought a twisted satisfaction, but he crushed it before it could take root.
Personal vendettas were luxuries he couldn't afford. Not when the plan required such careful orchestration, such precise timing. The world would burn, and from its ashes, something better would rise—but only if he remained focused on the larger picture.
"No," Obito said, his voice decisive and cold as winter stone. "We proceed as planned."
White Zetsu let out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders sagging dramatically. "Honestly, I don't understand why you're wasting time here personally. I mean, sure, it's entertaining watching people try to kill each other, but don't we have bigger fish to fry? This seems beneath your attention."
"It's not a waste of time to ensure that loose ends are properly severed," Black Zetsu replied with patient condescension. "Better to handle such matters personally than to discover later that incompetent subordinates left witnesses or complications. Besides, he's not the one who will dirty his hands….."
"Still," White Zetsu continued with building excitement, "there are so many more important things happening! The One-Tail is rampaging through the desert—imagine the chaos! And the civil war brewing in Konoha!" His voice took on a gleeful quality. "All those old tensions finally bubbling over, faction against faction, idealist against pragmatist. It's like watching a family tear itself apart from the inside! So exciting!"
"It's already done anyway," Black Zetsu's attention turned to Obito, patient and expectant. "Where to next?"
Obito watched as Naruto's shadow clones multiplied below, each one burning with an insufferable determination. Soon, Zabuza would learn the price of refusing the Akatsuki's generosity. And after that...
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NARUTO UZUMAKI
The forest was a damn maze of ice and mist, and Naruto was getting sick of it. Another senbon whistled past his ear as he ducked behind one of his clones, watching Sai's ink beasts crash into the crystalline mirrors surrounding them. Each impact sent spider-web cracks racing across the surface.
"Nice one, Sai!" Naruto called out, deflecting a cluster of needles with a kunai.
His left shoulder stung where three senbon had found their mark, and his right thigh felt like it was on fire, but he'd had worse. Way worse.
Sure, he was starting to feel dizzy, and the pale bastard was fast, but Naruto had been in enough scraps to know when he was winning.
We're actually doing this. Working together like a team. The thought made him grin despite the odd exhaustion and the needles trying to turn him into a pincushion. Eishin would probably fall over if he could see them now—coordination, teamwork, all that boring stuff the pervert was going on about.
But first, Naruto had to get out of this stupid mirror cage. Zabuza was out there, probably bleeding all over the forest floor, and the coward better not run away again. Using clones and hiding behind Haku like some kind of—
"Naruto, incoming!" Sai's voice cut through his thoughts.
More senbon. Always more senbon. Naruto twisted away, feeling the wind from the needles as they buried themselves in the tree behind him. His clone popped in a puff of smoke, and suddenly, there was nothing between him and Haku's position.
Time to even the odds.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
The familiar surge of chakra split through him as four more copies materialized, each one grinning with the same fierce determination. Eishin's warnings echoed in the back of his mind—something about being careful, about not overdoing it—but the pervert didn't get it.
Naruto wasn't some fragile academy student anymore. He could handle this. In fact he could have made more, but that would only mess things up. Strategy and quality and whatever.
The mirrors were falling apart now, Sai's inky creatures tearing through them like paper. Cracks spider-webbed across the remaining surfaces, and Naruto could see Haku's form wavering, uncertain. He was fast, yeah, but even he couldn't keep up this jutsu when half his mirrors were gone.
"Get ready," one of his clones muttered, and Naruto felt the anticipation building in his chest like a coiled spring.
The last mirror shattered.
Haku stumbled out of the collapsing jutsu, and Naruto didn't waste a second. His clones scattered like orange blurs through the mist, all of them converging on the same target—Zabuza.
The massive swordsman was leaning heavily against a tree, his wrapped blade somehow whole again despite the chunk Naruto's rasengan had taken out of it before. How the hell—? But it didn't matter. Unfair or not, the damn thing wouldn't survive another direct hit.
"Miss me, you ugly bastard?" Naruto's lead clone called out, diving in with a kunai.
Zabuza's response was a savage swing that would have taken the clone's head off if it hadn't ducked. The blade whistled through empty air, and Naruto felt a savage satisfaction at the slight wince that crossed the swordsman's face. The injury to his arm was slowing him down.
Good.
His clones pressed the attack from all sides—kunai flashing, fists flying, keeping Zabuza busy while the real Naruto hung back. The chakra was already building in his palm, blue and violent and hungry for payback.
Zabuza was strong, stronger than any opponent Naruto had faced, but he was hurt and outnumbered.
Almost there...
"Sai!" He called out.
The Rasengan was nearly complete, a perfect sphere of destruction spinning in Naruto's palm, when one of Sai's ink lions slammed into Zabuza's side. The impact knocked the swordsman off balance, his guard dropping for just an instant—
Naruto moved.
He burst through the gap between his clones, Rasengan extended, ready to end this fight once and for all. Zabuza's eyes widened, and for a split second, Naruto thought he had him.
Then Haku was there.
The idiot threw himself between them like a human shield, and Naruto tried to redirect—he really did—but momentum and physics weren't on his side. His palm connected with Haku's shoulder instead of Zabuza's chest, and the Rasengan detonated with a sound like thunder.
Dust and debris filled the air. Naruto's ears were ringing as he jumped and stumbled backward, breathing hard, watching the cloud settle. When it cleared, Haku was slumped against Zabuza, his right shoulder a mangled mess of blood and torn fabric. Alive, but barely.
Zabuza looked down at the kid with something that might have been annoyance.
"Useless," the swordsman growled, grabbing Haku by the neck like he was picking up a piece of trash. "Don't get in my way — how many times do I have to tell you?"
Haku's feet left the ground as Zabuza lifted him, and then the bastard just... flung him away. Like he was nothing. Like he was garbage.
Haku hit a tree trunk with a wet thud and crumpled.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The words tore out of his throat before he could stop them. "He saved your life, you bastard!"
Zabuza turned that cold, dead stare on him, wiping blood from a shallow cut on his cheek. "He's a tool. Tools break. That's what they do."
"He's not a tool!" Naruto stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. "He's a person! He cares about you, you piece of shit! More than anyone should!"
"Sentiment." Zabuza spat into the dirt. "Makes you weak. Makes you hesitate. The kid learned that lesson today."
"You don't get it, do you?" Naruto's voice was growing louder and rawer. "He didn't hesitate! He threw himself in front of my attack because he couldn't stand watching you get hurt! That's not weakness—that's—"
"Stupidity."
"—that's what bonds are supposed to be!" Naruto finished, his whole body shaking with rage. "You're supposed to protect each other! You're supposed to care! That's what makes people strong!"
Zabuza laughed, a harsh sound like grinding metal. "Look around, boy. This is the world of shinobi. Caring gets you killed. The kid was useful while he lasted, but his usefulness has run out."
Naruto glanced over at Haku, who was slumped against a tree, clutching his ruined shoulder. His face was pale, lips trembling—but his eyes, fixed on Zabuza, held no anger—only quiet acceptance. Like being discarded was expected. Normal. That made the fire in Naruto's chest burn even hotter.
"Why the hell are you so worked up, kid?" Zabuza didn't look at Haku. His voice was low, gravelly. "He was your enemy. One less blade coming at your throat—you should be celebrating. Or do you cry for every shinobi that drops in a fight?"
"…. No." Naruto's hands were moving before he'd consciously decided, forming the familiar seal. Naruto could not understand this. He just couldn't. "I've had enough of your bullshit. Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
With the help of the clone, chakra began building in his palm again, blue light cutting through the mist and darkness.
"You want to throw away someone who'd die for you?" The Rasengan was taking shape, larger than before. "Fine. But I'm not gonna let you walk away thinking that makes you strong."
Zabuza's grin was all teeth and malice as he hefted his massive blade. "Come then, boy. Let me show you what strength really looks like."
That smirk. That goddamn smirk that said Haku was nothing, that bonds were nothing, that caring about people was just another kind of weakness.
Naruto was going to wipe it off his face.
The Rasengan reached completion with a sound like a hurricane, and his clones dissolved back into chakra, feeding the jutsu until it blazed like a miniature sun in his palm.
"This is for everyone who ever believed in someone!" Naruto roared, launching himself forward.
"RASENGAN!"
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