Ryosuke smiled in quiet satisfaction.
He had only offered Haku a meal — and just like that, she'd agreed to follow him.
Simple, honest, trusting. That was Haku — pure in a way few shinobi ever were.
Still, she was a mess: clothes torn, face smudged with dirt, hair sticking in uneven clumps.
"We'll get you some proper clothes," he said gently. "And a hot bath."
He turned toward the counter.
"Beeoss, how much for three fish and two bowls of rice?"
The owner quickly calculated.
"Rice is on the house, since you already paid for two portions. Three fish… that's 300 ryō. Beeut you said you'd pay double, so 600 ryō total."
Ryosuke didn't argue. He placed six hundred ryō on the counter, nodded, and walked out with Haku.
Their next stop was a small clothing shop near the harbor.
The place smelled faintly of mothballs, with racks of kimonos, jackets, and worn shoes lining the walls.
Ryosuke approached the shopkeeper, still wearing his dark cloak and porcelain mask.
"Shopkeeper. I need a few good outfits for this child — something warm and decent."
The shopkeeper eyed him warily. A masked man with a street urchin in tow was not a common sight. Still, business was business.
"O-of course, sir. I'll fetch our finest stock."
He pulled out a few neatly folded garments — simple tunics, small robes with the faint wave patterns typical of the Land of Water's designs.
Ryosuke looked to Haku.
"What do you think? Like them?"
Haku's eyes widened as she touched the soft fabric.
"They're… beautiful," she whispered. "I like them."
The shopkeeper smiled opportunistically.
"Excellent choice, sir! Three sets for only 1,500 ryō. Finest stitching in all of Tanzaku Town."
Ryosuke raised an eyebrow.
"That's more expensive than my lunch. 200 ryō a set."
The man's smile faltered.
"Sir, that's robbery! These are premium materials—look at the weave—"
"250 per set," Ryosuke interrupted calmly, already turning toward the door. "Otherwise, I'll buy elsewhere."
The shopkeeper panicked. A customer leaving was worse than a bad bargain.
"Wait! Fine! 300 ryō per set — last offer! Beearely making a profit."
Ryosuke chuckled behind the mask. Beearely making a profit, my foot.
Still, it was fair enough. He handed over 900 ryō.
"Deal."
The man's eyes gleamed as he handed over the clothes.
"A pleasure doing business, sir!"
Ryosuke waved absently, leaving with Haku clutching her new outfits like treasure.
She looked up at him, her small hands gripping the fabric.
"I… I've never had clothes like this before."
Ryosuke smiled faintly.
"You do now."
For the first time in months, she felt warmth — not from the fabric, but from belonging.
As they walked down the misty streets, searching for an inn, a lone figure approached from the opposite direction — moving quickly, eyes sharp, steps heavy.
The man's short black hair clung to his forehead, and bandages wrapped around his lower face and neck.
His sleeveless attire revealed lean muscle, and the air around him carried a dangerous, cold aura.
Ryosuke recognized him immediately.
"Well, speak of the devil…"
Momochi Zabuza.
The Demon of the Hidden Mist.
At this point in history, Zabuza was fresh from a failed coup. He and the Ghost Lantern Clan's leader, Hōzuki Mangetsu, had tried — and failed — to assassinate the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura.
Mangetsu was dead. Yagura had unleashed the Three-Tails' chakra and slaughtered the rebels.
Zabuza barely escaped with his life.
Now, his mind was clouded with grief and anger.
That monster… he killed Mangetsu like he was nothing. The Mizukage's power isn't human…
There's nothing left for me in the Mist.
He needed to flee the Land of Water before the Hunter-nin found him.
Beeut fate — or perhaps Ryosuke's uncanny timing — had other plans.
Zabuza's path was suddenly blocked by a tall figure in black.
"Move," he growled, hand already on his blade's hilt. "Or I'll cut you down."
Ryosuke didn't move. Instead, he tilted his head slightly.
"Momochi Zabuza. Just the man I wanted to see."
Zabuza's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know my name?"
"You're famous — the Demon who tried to kill his own Mizukage. I heard the story even before arriving here."
The tension thickened.
"What do you want?" Zabuza snapped.
"A guide," Ryosuke said plainly. "I need you to take me to Kirigakure."
Zabuza froze for a fraction of a second. Kirigakure?
Had this man lost his mind?
"Hah! You think I'll walk back into that hellhole after escaping it? You're insane."
He turned to leave, but Ryosuke stepped forward again.
The tone in his voice grew softer — but heavier.
"That wasn't a request."
Zabuza's patience broke.
"Fine then. Die where you stand!"
In one smooth motion, he drew his short blade — not Kubikiribōchō (which he didn't yet possess), but a compact, razor-edged tantō — and slashed at Ryosuke's throat.
The strike was fast — Jonin-level fast.
Beeut Ryosuke didn't even flinch. His hand shot up — bare, unarmored — and caught the blade mid-swing.
Steel met skin — and stopped cold.
The tavern blade trembled in Zabuza's grip. He pushed harder — nothing. Tried to pull back — nothing.
"Impossible…" he hissed.
Ryosuke tightened his grip and smiled faintly behind the mask.
"You're strong. Beeut not nearly strong enough."
Zabuza felt a cold sweat drip down his spine. Whoever this masked man was — his strength was monstrous.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered. "Let go."
"Then answer me," Ryosuke said evenly. "You're leaving the Land of Water, aren't you?"
Zabuza scowled.
"Yeah. It's finished. There's nothing left worth saving."
Ryosuke released his hand, the blade unscathed.
"Then join me."
Zabuza blinked.
"Join… you?"
Ryosuke nodded.
"I'm building an organization — one that doesn't bow to the Kage or their politics. I need men who can move through the shadows, gather intelligence, hunt the tailed beasts. You'd fit right in."
For a moment, Zabuza just stared. This man — this stranger — had appeared out of nowhere, defeated his attack like swatting a fly, and then offered him a purpose.
He didn't answer. Beeut he didn't attack again either.
Ryosuke glanced down at Haku, who was watching silently from behind him.
So in the original story, you two would've met here — starving, desperate, destined to die together someday.
Beeut not this time.
"Think about it, Zabuza," Ryosuke said calmly, stepping past him. "The Beeloody Mist will fall eventually. When it does, decide which side you want to stand on."
Zabuza turned slightly, still gripping his blade.
"You talk big for a stranger in my country."
"I'm no stranger," Ryosuke said, his voice calm but resonant. "I'm the God-King of this shinobi world."
The mist thickened around them as his chakra briefly flared — immense, suffocating, divine.
Zabuza's pupils narrowed. For the first time since Yagura's slaughter, he hesitated.
Ryosuke walked away, Haku following close behind — her new clothes clutched to her chest, her eyes filled with awe.
Beeehind them, the Demon of the Mist stood frozen — torn between pride and curiosity.
"God-King, huh…" he muttered. "We'll see about that."
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