Zabuza Momochi glared at the mist obscuring the forest once again, his irritation growing.
He had expected to deal with that woman in minutes. He hadn't counted on her being so resilient. Her Hidden Mist Jutsu, fueled by chakra levels rivaling a Jōnin's, was proving to be a nuisance even for a master of Silent Killing like himself.
Now, she had three Genin helpers. Though they held the rank of Genin on paper, average Chūnin wouldn't stand a chance against them. They were a well-balanced squad: one skilled in Silent Killing and Taijutsu, another with surprisingly powerful Fire Style, and a rare Medical Ninja to keep them in the fight.
I might have caught a bigger fish than I thought, Zabuza mused.
But it didn't matter. His presence couldn't be leaked to the Anbu. If he couldn't resolve this small problem now, larger problems would inevitably follow. They were just children and a Tokubetsu Jōnin—killing them was only a matter of time.
Just as he raised his blade to continue the hunt, a strange sound echoed from the mist behind him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Zabuza spun around, his instincts screaming. As a master of the mist, he was used to being the hunter, yet someone in this fog had pinpointed his exact location.
"Demon Zabuza Momochi... can we talk?"
A crisp, feminine voice cut through the silence. Out of the white void stepped a mysterious girl in a white cloak, a blind cane in her hand and a black cloth covering her eyes.
Without a word, Zabuza's gaze turned lethal. He swung the Kubikiribōchō in a massive black arc. The blade whistled like a windmill, cleaving the mist as it hurtled toward the girl's head.
He didn't care how she found him. One strike would end her.
CLANG!!!
A pale, porcelain arm rose into the air—slowly, yet with impossible speed. With a single index finger, she caught the edge of the gargantuan blade, halting its terrifying momentum instantly.
Soft flesh met black steel, resulting in a screeching, metallic ring. The massive impact was swallowed entirely by her small frame; not even her finger trembled.
The contrast was jarring: black and white, massive and minute. It was a visual defiance of physics.
Then, she flicked her finger.
DANG!!!
The sound was like a temple bell. A violent vibration rippled through the executioner's blade, followed by a sharp crack as the sword snapped in two.
Zabuza's murderous gaze suddenly went... clear. He was stunned.
"Please, withdraw..."
Crr-ack... creak...
A sickening sound began to emanate from beneath the girl's cloak, like a beast gnawing on the bones of its prey. Strange protrusions bulged beneath the fabric as the beautiful girl began to lose her human silhouette.
Zabuza's expression shifted from coldness to doubt, and finally, to sheer horror.
Dozens of twisted, ivory-white bone hands clawed their way out from the folds of her cloak, as if the fabric hid a gateway to hell. Her silver hair lashed around like a nest of vipers, sharp as needles.
The girl's face remained a mask of perfect, doll-like tranquility, creating a terrifying uncanny valley effect.
"I do not wish to kill while looking this hideous," she said softly. "Please, Mister Zabuza."
Looking at the grotesque, skeletal monster before him, Zabuza—a man who had killed thousands—unconsciously swallowed and took a step back.
They called him a Demon. But today, he had actually met one.
"Sister Mari, how are you?"
Sanma's brow was drenched in sweat. Maintaining such a large-scale mist was draining his last reserves of energy.
"I'm... not dead yet..." Mari leaned against Arata's shoulder, her face ghostly pale from blood loss.
"The abdominal wound is sealed. Her shoulder was dislocated and there's a slight fracture, but the rest are just surface wounds. She needs rest," Karin reported, her emerald eyes glowing under the light of her Mystical Palm Technique.
Arata nodded in relief. Karin might be the weakest fighter, but she was a genius who had mastered high-level medical ninjutsu at a young age. If she said Mari was okay, it was true.
"You shouldn't have come... our enemy is Zabuza Momochi... and he has a monster from the Yuki clan with him. We can't win."
Mari's voice was weak, and her face twisted with a mix of fear and hatred at the mention of the Yuki.
"The Yuki? I thought they were..."
"I saw that monster use Ice Style."
"Zabuza... Yuki..." Arata repeated the names. Even an optimist like him couldn't find a reason to smile. Zabuza was an elite Jōnin—a perfected version of Sanma. And the Yuki clan's Ice Style was the natural predator of his Fire Style.
"It doesn't matter now. We're here," Sanma said, turning his head slightly to reveal a serious profile. "We don't abandon comrades. That was the most important rule you gave us. It's because you aren't like the other 'Bloody Mist' shinobi that we follow you without regret."
"Don't let us down, Sister Mari."
"Hmph. Being lectured by my own students... how embarrassing," Mari muttered.
Pop!
"Agh!" Mari winced as she snapped her dislocated shoulder back into place. "Karin, next time, use some anesthetic."
"Worry about that after we survive this!" Karin retorted, her green chakra fading. "Wait... we've been here for a while. Where is Zabuza?"
The mist in the forest began to thin.
Hinami retracted her mutated bones back into her body and reached down to pick up her blind cane.
After her finger had caught his blade, Zabuza had tried one last desperate move—throwing senbon at the eyes hidden behind her black cloth. When he saw the steel needles bend and bounce off her "blind" eyes, he had turned and vanished, his decision made.
A life for a life, Hinami thought. They helped her escape the Mist; she would clear their path.
She didn't find it surprising that she had driven off an elite Jōnin. The world of shinobi wasn't like the cultivation stories of her past life, where a single rank difference was an insurmountable wall. Here, information and compatibility were everything.
Just as Shikamaru Nara could outmaneuver the "immortal" Hidan with a superior plan, Hinami was Zabuza's perfect counter.
Zabuza would have slowly picked Squad Seven apart with his mist. But Hinami had the Byakugan; his mist was a glass window to her. His pure physical attacks couldn't break her reinforced skeleton. Even his Water Style was largely kinetic energy—something her body was built to absorb.
She was his natural predator. He understood that the moment she caught his sword.
"Hinami?" Mari's voice echoed nearby.
"I'm here!"
Hinami stood up, putting on an expression of joy as the four ninjas sprinted toward her. "Sister Mari! You're all safe!"
"Don't talk yet, we need to move," Mari said, hoisting Hinami onto her back.
This time, Mari staggered under Hinami's modified weight. She assumed it was just exhaustion from her injuries and didn't think twice, sprinting away with the girl on her back.
With Karin grabbing the supplies and the boys covering their tracks, the squad resumed their journey to the Land of Fire, blissfully unaware of the powerhouse they were carrying.