River.
Silent.
Not a ripple. Not a breeze. Even the birds held their breath.
Two shinobi—legends in their own right—stood at opposite ends of a battlefield that was once serene water and now a stage for fate.
On one end stood Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist. His massive Kubikiribōchō rested on his shoulder like an extension of his will—unyielding, merciless. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, his breath low and slow. His eyes gleamed with the kind of hunger that only killers knew.
A shinobi born in blood.Forged in rebellion and baptized in betrayal.
On the other end, Kakashi Hatake, the Copy Ninja. One hand held a kunai with calm precision. The other gently pulled up his hitai-ate, revealing the scarlet, spinning Sharingan. His lone eye tracked every breath Zabuza took—calculating, dissecting, learning.
No fear nerves.Just cold, polished experience.
The mist curled in again—like the forest itself wanted to watch but not be seen. It slithered across the river's surface, crawling up their legs, coiling around them like phantom serpents. But even as the fog thickened, their vision pierced through.
This wasn't just sight. This was instinct. This was the gaze of warriors.
Neither flinched. Neither blinked.
Because the next move wouldn't be a test—it would be a declaration.
The silence wasn't empty. It was full of memory, of blood, of unspoken resolve.
One fought for coin and conquest. The other for his team, his pride, and the will of fire.
And somewhere in the background, popcorn crunched softly.
Suddenly, Zabuza made his move.
A blur.
A shadow with a blade.
The Kubikiribōchō screamed through the air in a vicious diagonal arc—an execution, not a duel. The steel edge glittered with murderous intent, aiming for Kakashi's neck.
But Kakashi was quicker—just barely.
He dropped low, letting the blade slice through the air just inches above his silver hair.
Whoosh.
Missed.
But Zabuza didn't care—didn't stop.
He twisted mid-swing and brought the blade down again in a brutal overhead slash. Kakashi had no time, no space. There was only one move:
Block.
His kunai met the monstrous sword.
Steel clashed.
Clang!
Sparks exploded.
Kakashi's knees buckled from the force. The weight behind Zabuza's strike was like an avalanche—unrelenting, merciless. For a second, Kakashi felt his bones rattle.
He gritted his teeth, chakra flaring just to stay grounded.
But he couldn't overpower him. Not like this.Not in brute force.
With a sharp exhale, Kakashi slid sideways, his sandals skimming the water's surface, escaping the deadlock just in time. He landed a few meters away, chest rising and falling, kunai still in hand, but his arm trembled slightly.
Zabuza turned, relaxed, and cocked his head mockingly.
"I didn't know the so-called Copy Ninja would be this weak."
Kakashi didn't reply immediately.
He straightened up, adjusted his headband slightly, Sharingan gleaming with quiet intensity.
Then—
A lazy shrug.
"Ah, sorry. I was just tired of hearing myself win all the time. Thought I'd try struggling for once."
Even as he joked, he was buying seconds—seconds to breathe, seconds to think.
Because Kakashi didn't need to win through might.
He just needed the right moment.
And the mist still clung to the river like a curtain, waiting for someone to move first.
"Oh? Buying time—for what? To escape?" Zabuza's voice slithered through the fog like a blade. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to leave any of you alive."
Then he did the one thing that made Kakashi's stomach drop.
"Mizu Bunshin no Jutsu."
Splash.
Two perfect clones emerged from the water, silent and expressionless, flanking the original.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. His chakra reserves were already thinning, and now he had to deal with a three-pronged assault?
Zabuza grinned. "So what's the plan now, Copy Ninja? Or should I say… Mr. Worldwide?"
Kakashi sighed.
He dared a glance back—and what did he see?
Naruto.
Karin.
Sasuke.
Even Tazuna.
Munching popcorn like they were watching a rom-com.
Kakashi mentally facepalmed. "I raised a circus troupe."
No more time.
The clones dashed first, water parting at their feet, blades raised in unison.
Whoosh—
Kakashi met the first clone with a sharp sidestep, parrying with his kunai—then spun low to dodge the second clone's slash. But Zabuza came right behind them, blade descending in a vertical arc like a guillotine.
Kakashi barely blocked it, but this time, his knees buckled.
His arms were shaking.
Every second with the Sharingan burned his chakra like wildfire.
He couldn't keep this pace up.
But…
He didn't need to.
With a sudden burst of movement, he jumped back and threw a smoke bomb to the ground. The river mist fused with the dark smoke, turning the whole field into a foggy void.
"Hide and seek again, huh?" Zabuza muttered.
"Exactly," Kakashi's voice echoed from behind.
Thwip!
A kunai sliced across the cheek of a clone, and it burst into water.
Splash!
The other clone whipped around—too slow.
Kakashi struck again—one down, one to go.
His speed, his stealth—that was his strength.
Not brute force.
Not flash.
Surgical precision.
But every breath burned now. His Sharingan's glow had dimmed slightly. His fingers twitched, fatigued.
Kakashi knew… this fight had to end soon.
And Zabuza?
Still smiling, blade gleaming, waiting for the real dance to begin.
Steel echoed across the river as Kubikiribōchō met Kakashi's kunai—again.
But this time, Kakashi was slower. Just a little. A flicker of fatigue.
Zabuza's monstrous strength sent him skidding back on the water, feet barely catching hold of the surface tension.
Drip… drip…
Sweat rolled down Kakashi's temple, not just from the fight, but from the damned eye—the curse and crown he bore.
His speed, his reflexes, his precision—they kept him alive.
But his strength? His stamina?
Nothing compared to Zabuza.
"You're fast," Zabuza said, the massive blade slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. "But you're leaning too hard on that fancy eye. Looks like even the great Copy Ninja runs out of steam."
Kakashi didn't respond. He simply adjusted his stance.
He couldn't afford to waste breath.
His Sharingan lets him see Zabuza's moves coming before they happen.
But his body…?
His body was reaching its limits.
He wasn't born with endless chakra. He wasn't bred from Uchiha stock or a chakra-rich bloodline.
He was Hatake Kakashi.
His clan wasn't famous. Just a small lightning-style lineage with one specialty:
Raiton Kenjutsu—speed, lethality, precision. A thunderclap through the dark.
And yet…
Since gaining the Sharingan, he'd strayed from those roots.
Relied too much on copying. Too much on mimicry.
He wasn't born to be a copy.
He was born to be a blade.
As Zabuza lunged again, Kakashi ducked—barely. The force of the slash sliced a wave behind him. His Sharingan kept up, yes—but his body?
It was breaking down.
His chakra was falling fast.
Every second with that eye burned like acid.
He needed to end this.
Not in five minutes.
Not in thirty moves.
Now.
And maybe...
Maybe it was time he remembered his own roots.
On the bank.
The wind stilled.
Even the mist seemed to hold its breath.
The atmosphere had shifted—from playful to pained. All four of them were silent now, not out of fear, but out of the heavy weight pressing against their chests.
Tazuna spoke first, his voice barely more than a whisper, tinged with sadness.
"Guys… I think he's losing."
Karin and Sasuke looked ahead, eyes wide, unsure. The air was too still. The tension is too thick. The man who had danced through danger minutes ago now looked like he was dragging his own shadow.
But Naruto…
His expression had changed.
That ever-present grin was gone.
"I know," he said softly, his voice edged with something deeper—like a storm waiting behind silence. "He forgot something important. Something vital."
His gaze was sharp, watching Kakashi's every strained movement.
'Just like Madara said… Nothing ever goes as planned. I thought Kakashi would win this… but here he is, on the edge of losing.'
A wind blew gently across the riverbank, but it wasn't from the weather—it was from fate, turning its page.
And then…
[Yes.]
A voice. Not from around him, but within him.
A whisper. Familiar.
Gentle, yet powerful.
[You've already changed the course of the future. Just by being here. Some things may remain the same… but others? Others will never be.]
Naruto's eyes flared for a brief second—not with rage, but with realization.
"Yeah. You're right. Living in happiness made me forget many things."
He paused. Then smiled faintly with gratitude.
"Thanks for the reminder, Aurora."
A pause.
A hum. A whisper in his soul.
[You're always welcome… and I'll be there for you. Always.]
And just like that…
Naruto stood up, brushing the dust from his pants.
The mist still covered the river, but something unseen had already begun to shift.
A ripple in fate.
A crack in destiny.
Because now… he remembered.