Chapter 22: The Demon's Challenge
Hearing Kakashi speak his name so easily did not surprise Zabuza. In fact, he seemed almost pleased.
"So the famous Hatake Kakashi knows who I am. I'm honored."
But Kakashi took no pleasure in the recognition. His visible eye narrowed, and his brow furrowed deeply. He knew exactly how dangerous the man before him was.
Momochi Zabuza. The Demon of the Hidden Mist. One of the legendary Seven Swordsmen of the Mist.
He was a master of silent killing—a technique so refined that his victims often died without ever realizing he was there. Terrifying didn't begin to describe him.
Of all the places to encounter such an opponent, Kakashi thought grimly, a tiny nation like the Land of Waves…
"You're a long way from home, Zabuza," Kakashi called out, his voice laced with mockery. "The Demon of the Mist, reduced to doing dirty work for a petty tyrant in some backwater country. How the mighty have fallen."
Zabuza was unfazed. He licked his lips—a slow, deliberate, bloodthirsty gesture—and let his gaze drift over Kakashi and the three young genin.
One by one, his eyes touched them. Sasuke stiffened. Sakura felt a chill crawl down her spine. It was like being stared at by a predator—a lion sizing up its prey.
"I'm just surviving," Zabuza said finally. "The Mist's hunter-nin have been chasing me for years. This little island nation is a convenient hiding place."
He raised a hand and pointed directly at Tazuna, who trembled violently and scurried behind Kakashi.
"Kakashi, I have no quarrel with Konoha. Hand over the old man, and we can pretend we never met. No one needs to die today."
"No deal," Kakashi said immediately. "Konoha doesn't abandon its missions."
Zabuza's eyes darkened. His lolling tongue retreated, replaced by a cold, thin-lipped sneer.
"Then you leave me no choice." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "Let's see if you can stop me, Copy Ninja. Make no mistake—if you interfere, the old man dies. And so do your students."
"You can protect one person, Kakashi. But can you protect them all?" Zabuza's form began to dissolve into the mist. "Be careful. You might find yourself dead before you realize it."
POOF.
Zabuza vanished into the swirling fog, his chakra signature spreading out in every direction, impossible to track.
The tension spiked.
Sasuke's nerves, already raw from the encounter with the previous rogue ninjas, snapped. He remembered his disgraceful paralysis. He remembered freezing while Naruto fought.
"I don't need anyone's protection!" Sasuke shouted, his pride overriding his reason. He lunged forward, kunai raised—
"Stop, Sasuke!" Kakashi's hand shot out, grabbing the boy's shoulder and yanking him back. "This enemy is nothing like the last one! You can't handle him! None of you can!"
Sasuke gritted his teeth, his dark eyes blazing with frustrated fury. But he stopped. He wasn't stupid—he could see the tension in Kakashi's posture, the way his teacher's eyes never stopped moving, searching for an enemy he couldn't yet see.
Kakashi's mind raced. Zabuza wasn't wrong. In a one-on-one fight, Kakashi was confident he could win. But he wasn't alone. He had Tazuna to protect. He had Sakura and Sasuke—two genin who had already proven they could freeze under pressure.
And his opponent was a master assassin, one of the deadliest killers the Hidden Mist had ever produced.
Kakashi could protect one person. Maybe two.
But three?
He couldn't be everywhere at once.
He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice calm but urgent.
"Naruto. I'm entrusting their safety to you. Protect them."
Naruto, who had been watching the exchange with cool detachment, gave a small nod. His eyes flickered—calculating, assessing—but he said nothing.
Sasuke's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. Protect me? Naruto? The dead-last protecting ME?
But he said nothing. Even his pride couldn't blind him to the reality: Naruto had handled the first two missing-nin with ease while Sasuke had stood frozen like a statue.
He would watch. He would wait. And he would prove himself when the moment came.
——
Kakashi reached up and slowly pushed back the forehead protector covering his left eye.
Sasuke's breath caught.
Sharingan.
A crimson eye stared out from Kakashi's socket, three tomoe spinning slowly within its scarlet depths. Sasuke knew that eye. He knew it better than almost anyone alive. It was the bloodline of his clan—the Kekkei Genkai of the Uchiha.
"How…" Sasuke started, his voice hoarse.
"Later, Sasuke," Kakashi interrupted, not taking his eyes off the mist. "I'll explain later. For now, just know that this eye was a gift. From a friend of the Uchiha clan."
Sasuke nodded stiffly, his mind reeling.
Then the fog thickened.
It rolled in from all sides—dense, impenetrable, unnatural. Within seconds, visibility dropped to near zero. Sakura couldn't see her own hand in front of her face.
"Naruto! Sasuke! Kakashi-sensei!" Sakura's voice cracked with panic. "Where are you?!"
"Stay calm, Sakura!" Kakashi called out. "Don't move. Find something to put your back against. Don't let them surround you."
Sasuke pressed his back against a tree, his kunai held in a white-knuckled grip, his Sharingan—his own Sharingan—straining to pierce the mist.
But the fog was too thick. Too heavy. It pressed against them from all sides, smothering them in silence.
And somewhere in that white void, the Demon of the Mist was already moving.
No one noticed that Naruto was no longer standing where he had been.
No one noticed that he had vanished.
And no one noticed the faint, almost imperceptible smile that had crossed his face just before he disappeared.