"Shiro, let's move out."
After more than a week of rest, Momochi Zabuza had fully regained his strength. During that time, he had also ordered Shiro to repair the Executioner's Blade.
"With my body back in shape, I'm ready," Zabuza muttered, clenching his fist tightly. "It's time to resume the mission."
But this time, Zabuza wasn't planning to target Tazuna. Even at his peak, with both his and Shiro's strength combined, killing Tazuna under Senju Haruto's watchful eyes was impossible.
Instead, he had devised a different plan: cut down Gato himself and seize his fortune. If nothing else, eliminating that parasite and stealing his wealth would not only free him of a treacherous employer but also give him enough resources to one day return to Kirigakure and spark another coup.
After all, Zabuza had never been a man bound by contracts or honor. And Gato's wealth—surpassing even that of many minor daimyō—was far too tempting to ignore.
BOOM!
Just as Zabuza was preparing to depart with Shiro, an earth-shaking crash thundered from behind. The sudden noise caught him completely off guard.
As a missing-nin, Zabuza's instincts had been honed razor-sharp. He had rigged this entire area with traps and alarms, designed to alert him to even the faintest disturbance. Yet now, the walls had been blasted apart and an enemy had entered without him sensing a thing.
Could it be Haruto… or Hatake Kakashi?!
Zabuza's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as he spun around, retreating swiftly while locking his gaze on the source of the destruction.
But to his surprise, it wasn't Haruto or Kakashi who appeared.
Instead, two figures emerged from the dust—moving as a pair, just as Zabuza and Shiro did. They wore black cloaks embroidered with ominous red clouds, and broad straw hats adorned with dangling wind chimes that swayed with every step. Their movements seemed cumbersome, yet somehow deliberate.
Zabuza's grip tightened on the Executioner's Blade, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Beside him, Shiro silently took up a stance, prepared to unleash deadly ice at a moment's notice.
Their attire was strange, even theatrical, but something about them made Zabuza's gut churn with unease.
Before he could demand their identities, one of the men casually removed his hat.
"Well, well. I didn't expect to run into you here, Momochi Zabuza."
"You… know me?" Zabuza's voice dropped low, every word edged with threat. For someone to recognize him so quickly and still dare step forward—it meant they had come fully prepared.
His eyes flicked to the man's forehead protector, which bore a deep slash carved straight through the symbol.
A missing-nin.
"That forehead protector… from Takigakure," Zabuza muttered under his breath. But then a chilling realization struck him.
He recalled a single name.
Takigakure wasn't one of the Five Great Villages, and information about its shinobi was scarce. But there had been one—a man whispered about in the oldest records.
A shinobi who lived in the same era as the legendary Senju Hashirama. A man who should have been insignificant… except for one astonishing event.
He had once attempted to assassinate Hashirama himself.
Though he failed, the very fact that he survived such an attempt had sent shockwaves through the shinobi world. Veterans who truly understood Hashirama's terrifying power had gasped in disbelief when they learned of it.
Upon his return to Takigakure, the man had been brutally punished for his failure. Enraged at his village's betrayal, he escaped imprisonment, stealing Takigakure's most treasured forbidden jutsu in the process.
His name—Kakuzu.
A man of unspeakable danger.
"Of course I know you," Kakuzu said flatly. "The Demon of the Hidden Mist. An S-rank rogue shinobi who fled after your coup failed. You and I—we're not so different. But there's one important thing…"
His eyes glinted coldly.
"Your head is worth twenty million ryō on the black market. More than this current mission is paying me. Which means… your career as a missing-nin ends here."
"Mission…?" Zabuza's brow furrowed. The word instantly conjured up the image of Gato's bloated frame.
"Why bother explaining things to him, Kakuzu?" Kakuzu's partner finally spoke, removing his own hat with a disgruntled sneer. "The guy's already dead. We're just wasting time. Better to gut him now and offer him up to Lord Jashin."
"You were hired by Gato, weren't you?" Zabuza cut in sharply, ignoring the man's ranting.
It wasn't a difficult guess. He had never trusted that greedy little rat, but even so, he hadn't expected Gato to stoop so low as to hire other missing-nin to betray him.
Zabuza bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. "A pity for you both… you picked the wrong target."
With a roar, he yanked the Executioner's Blade from his back and charged directly at the second man—Hidan.
To Zabuza's eyes, Hidan was riddled with openings. Years of assassination work had taught him to spot weakness instantly, and this fool's stance screamed recklessness. His bingo book contained no record of the man either, meaning he was a nobody. Nobodies were weak.
The Executioner's Blade sang through the air with a savage slash—and struck flesh.
The massive sword carved a deep, bloody gash across Hidan's chest.
But instead of collapsing, screaming, or retreating, Hidan only smiled.
His expression remained eerily calm, as if being cut open were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Instead of pulling back, he surged forward, jamming his body into the blade itself and locking it in place so Zabuza couldn't withdraw.
At such close range, Zabuza had no leverage to push him off.
"Heh… heh heh heh…"
That sinister grin widened. One hand clamped tightly on the blade, while the other reached behind his back—drawing forth his weapon.
The Triple-Bladed Scythe.
"Kakuzu, this one's perfect for Lord Jashin's offering, don't you think? I'm sure our god will savor him."
Kakuzu's masked face remained impassive. He made no move to intervene.
Yes, Zabuza was a formidable shinobi, even called the Demon of the Mist. But against Hidan, who fought with neither reason nor restraint, there could only be one outcome—death.
Seeing Kakuzu had no objection, Hidan swung the scythe down in a brutal arc toward Zabuza.
If his weapon tasted Zabuza's blood, the battle would already be decided.
Zabuza's instincts screamed. For the first time in years, he felt true danger crawl down his spine. He was forced to release his grip on the Executioner's Blade and spring backward just in time.
The scythe cleaved through the air, missing by a hair, while the Executioner's Blade crashed to the ground with a dull thud.
"Hehehe… now we can begin," Hidan chuckled, his tone gleefully unhinged. Even with blood pouring from his chest, his eyes shone with a mad delight.
Raising his scythe, he extended his tongue, slowly dragging it across the blood that stained the blade.
The grotesque ritual made Zabuza's brow crease. His gaze shifted to his left shoulder, where a thin cut still oozed blood.
Even though he had reacted with inhuman speed, that strange weapon of Hidan's had managed to graze him.
And something told him the real fight was only just beginning.