"Wait here, guys. I'll be back soon."
Naruto's voice was calm. Too calm.
He stepped forward—slow, but certain. Each footfall was like a drumbeat. Final. Determined.
"Nii-san…" Karin called, her voice soft with concern.
Naruto turned just slightly, casting a glance over his shoulder.
And then—he smiled.
That smile wasn't cheeky or mischievous. It wasn't born from arrogance.
It was the smile of someone who had made peace with what he was about to do.
A smile that said: "Trust me."
Tazuna blinked, confused. "What's he… what's he going to do?"
Neither Karin nor Sasuke answered.
They just stared ahead.
Their silence said more than words could.
Watch.
On the battlefield.
Kakashi and Zabuza clashed like titans—steel met steel, breath met blood, fury met fatigue.
Kakashi was on his last legs.
His breaths were shallow, his Sharingan flickering with strain. His chakra reserves were nearly gone—each movement now came at a price.
Zabuza, seeing the opportunity, grinned like a wolf.He raised his massive blade high, chakra surging through his arms.
"This ends now!" he roared, swinging it down with finality.
But the blade—never landed.
A thunderous sound tore through the mist.
The clash rang out like a cannon blast—steel meeting something just as strong. A shockwave exploded outward, sending ripples through the water and dust skidding across the riverbank.
Zabuza's eyes widened.
His blade… was stopped.
"What the—?!"
Before him stood a figure. Hand raised. Eyes calm. Hair swept by the wind.
Naruto.
He had caught the blade mid-swing.
One hand gripped the flat of the Kubikiribōchō, the other calmly steadying it. The raw force of the impact sent vibrations up his arms, but he stood firm.
"Sorry," Naruto said casually. "But this party's not over yet."
Zabuza scowled. "You brat again…"
Kakashi looked up in disbelief, panting hard. "Naruto…"
Naruto pushed.
With one clean motion, he shoved Zabuza back—hard.
Zabuza's feet dragged across the water's surface as he skidded backward, losing balance, his heels slicing ripples into the river.
His sword trembled in his grasp.
'That wasn't a fluke…'
The mist ninja narrowed his eyes, heart thumping.
'He's stronger than me—physically. That brat caught my blade once, but now… he just overpowered me like I was nothing.'
He expected a follow-up. A charge. A strike. Something.
But instead—
Naruto stood still.
Arms relaxed.
Eyes calm.
"Don't worry, Zabuza," Naruto said, voice low but firm. "I'm not here to fight you. I didn't start this."
He turned around.
"And the one who started this…"
He looked over his shoulder, eyes now sharp with that subtle storm brewing behind them.
"…will be the one to finish it."
Zabuza didn't know how to respond. A part of him felt relieved—he wouldn't have to clash with this strange, unreadable boy.
Another part of him?
Furious.
How dare this kid treat him like a side quest?
Still, Zabuza didn't move. He couldn't. The silent warning was clear: "I caught your blade twice. Try again, and you won't get a third chance."
Naruto turned fully now, walking toward Kakashi, calm as if he hadn't just disrespected a Shichinintai to his face.
Kakashi was on one knee, panting, clutching his side. His Sharingan was fading in and out like a dying ember.
Naruto knelt down beside him.
"Kakashi…" Naruto said quietly, "Did you realize what you were doing wrong all these years?"
Kakashi exhaled shakily, guilt evident in every breath.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I forgot… what really mattered. I relied too much on someone else's eyes. And in doing so, I lost sight of my own."
Naruto nodded.
And in that moment, the mist around the river felt less like fog—and more like a veil being lifted.
Naruto knelt beside Kakashi once more, eyes glinting with something deeper than concern—conviction.
From his back, he unsheathed a short blade, worn but still holding a sharp gleam.
He offered it forward.
"Take this," Naruto said, voice soft.
Kakashi blinked, eyes narrowing in confusion as he took the blade from Naruto's hands.
The familiarity hit him like a wave.
That weight… that balance…
"Where… where did you get this?" he asked, stunned. "This is—"
"Yeah," Naruto nodded. "Your father's. Sakumo Hatake."
Kakashi's grip tightened.
"You tossed it aside when you took the Sharingan. Said you didn't need it anymore."
Naruto looked up at him with a faint smile, filled with warmth and memory.
"But… Mom kept it. She said Dad gave it to her, told her 'Kakashi might need this again someday.'"
Silence fell between them.
Kakashi stood slowly, eyes never leaving the blade.
"…Thank you," he whispered.
He gave it a light swing. Once. Twice. The sound of steel slicing air sang like an old song.
A rush of memories. Missions with his father. Days before, the weight of the world had drowned him in guilt and expectation.
"Shirogoka," Kakashi said suddenly.
Naruto blinked. "Huh?"
"That's its name," Kakashi continued, voice clearer than it had been in hours. "Shiroi Kiba. Just like him."
Naruto's smile widened. A mix of pride and peace radiated from him.
"Then I'll take my leave," Naruto said with a teasing salute, two fingers tapping his forehead before he turned.
Then—he paused.
Turned slightly toward Zabuza.
"And you—thanks for your patience," he added, flashing a light grin.
Zabuza stood there, unreadable.
But inside, something shifted. He didn't know what exactly it was—but watching that exchange, seeing Kakashi rise again, feeling the aura from the boy who treated legacy like it mattered…
'It's the same… same as when I first gripped Kubikiribōchō. That moment you stop being a tool… and start becoming something more.'
He exhaled.
And waited.
But Zabuza gritted his teeth and shoved the emotion away.
He had a fight to finish.
Across the river mist, the air grew still again—only for a heartbeat.
Kakashi stepped forward. No hesitation. Shirogoka glinted in his hand, held low, angled for speed—not defense.
Then he vanished.
To the untrained eye, he'd disappeared.
Zabuza's eyes barely caught the blur before—
SLASH!
A sharp sting across his waist. Blood.
Zabuza growled, pivoting with raw instinct. "Tch—fast!"
His counterattack was immediate—wide, powerful arcs of Kubikiribōchō meant to cleave, not parry.
But Kakashi, eyes locked in the red gleam of his Sharingan, read every twitch, every breath.
He weaved.
He danced.
He struck.
Each movement was fluid and calculated, the blade flashing with streaks of lightning chakra pulsing through the metal.
CLASH.
Steel collided again. Sparks.
Zabuza blocked—but he was slower now. His armor of endurance cracked under the unrelenting rhythm of Kakashi's revived ferocity.
The fight was no longer even.
Zabuza was bleeding from multiple cuts, his breath ragged. Kakashi, too, bore bruises and shallow wounds, but his movements were still sharp—purposeful.
This wasn't just about power anymore.
It was about conviction.
About remembering who he was.
On the riverbank, the silence didn't just return—it sighed.
It wasn't fear anymore.
It was relief.
Tazuna let out a long, slow breath. "He's… winning?"
Karin nodded, her gaze fixed on the battle, but her heart somewhere else. "No... he's remembering."
Naruto crossed his arms, letting a soft smile curve across his face. The breeze tousled his hair, and he looked like someone who knew the future and still chose to smile at the present.
"Told you," he murmured. "He just needed a reminder."
With the tension easing off, the squad settled down to catch their breath—like storm survivors watching the sun peek through the clouds.
Naruto flopped down without shame, right onto Karin's lap like he owned the place (and let's be real—he did).
Karin fed him popcorn, fingers brushing his lips like it was a ritual passed down through generations of flirty med-nin. "Nii-san, you were so cool when you caught his blade."
Naruto peeked one eye open, a smug smirk creeping up. "You loved it, huh?"
"Yes. I loved it," she said, feeding him another piece dramatically.
Karin opened her mouth to say something more, something heavy—"Do you know I just want to live my life like this with you—"
But before the sentence could complete its journey, Naruto reached up and pulled her down for a kiss. Not rushed. Not stolen. A kiss that said, "Shut up, I know."
Sasuke didn't even look. "They're at it again."
Tazuna sipped from his flask. "Eh. They're harmless. Like love-struck cats."
A few minutes later, the two finally parted, breathless, cheeks flushed, and grinning like fools who'd cracked the cheat code of life.
Karin tried again, "What I was saying was—" but got silenced with another kiss. This one is deeper. More lingering.
More certain.
While those two kissed like the world had already been saved, something else unfolded on the river.
Kakashi stood opposite Zabuza, his stance low, blade in hand—not any blade.
Shirogoka.
It glowed faintly with chakra—his father's will, his own soul sharpened again.
Zabuza, bruised, bleeding, and grinning like a demon, spun his massive blade once and then anchored it against his shoulder.
The mist thickened one last time.
Kakashi's Sharingan glinted through it.
"Zabuza," Kakashi said, his voice low and clear. "Let's end this."
Zabuza cracked his neck. "Agreed. One final clash. Winner takes the last word."
And with that—they moved.