Chapter 23: Fist Against the Blade
Not far from where Naruto had vanished, Zabuza stood atop a thick tree branch, concealed within his own mist. His visible eye scanned the swirling fog around him, and a deep frown creased his scarred face.
Something was wrong.
The Mist Shinobi Technique he had cast should not have been this powerful. The fog surrounding them was so thick he could barely see his own hand in front of his face. To maintain such dense concealment would require an enormous amount of chakra—far more than he had expended.
It felt as though someone else had joined the technique, strengthening it, thickening it, feeding it from another source. Zabuza didn't know who or why, but every instinct screamed that something was amiss.
Then, without warning, a figure materialized in front of him.
Blond hair. Calm expression. One of the genin from Kakashi's team.
Zabuza's pupils contracted. His body tensed. His hand tightened around the hilt of his massive blade.
This child found me? Impossible.
His sharp, predatory eyes raked over Naruto's small frame. "Interesting," Zabuza said, his voice a low rumble. "A mere genin managed to locate me. How?"
Naruto smiled—a faint, unconcerned expression that did not reach his eyes. He looked utterly unafraid of the Demon of the Mist standing before him.
"Was it difficult?" Naruto asked lightly. "And by the way… your fog was too thin. I gave it a little boost."
Zabuza stared. The words made no sense—and yet, something in Naruto's tone made him pause.
"You're saying you cast this fog?" Zabuza asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Naruto nodded.
For a moment, Zabuza was silent. Then he let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "Arrogant brat. I don't know how you found me—luck, perhaps, or some trick—but don't think you can fool me with such absurd claims. Someone is helping you from the shadows. Who is it? Kakashi? Another Jōnin?"
Naruto shrugged, saying nothing. He had no intention of explaining. Actions, he knew, spoke louder than words.
Zabuza's amusement faded, replaced by cold fury. "Fine. If you won't talk, I won't waste questions on a dead man. You walked into a demon's lair, child. Now suffer the consequences."
He leaped.
The Executioner's Blade—massive, brutal, forged to cleave through bone and steel—arced through the air. It descended toward Naruto like a guillotine, the wind from its passage howling like a vengeful spirit.
Zabuza had put his full strength behind this swing. He intended to split the boy in half.
Die.
Naruto looked up. His expression did not change.
He raised his fist.
Zabuza's sneer widened. A fist against the Executioner's Blade? He had seen many foolish last stands in his life, but this was among the most pathetic. The blade would shear through that tiny arm like paper, then through the boy's skull, and—
THWANG.
The sound was wrong. It wasn't the wet, meaty thunk of steel parting flesh. It was the sharp, resonant ring of metal striking metal.
Zabuza's arm went numb. A shockwave traveled up the blade, through his hands, through his shoulders. His eyes flew wide.
The Executioner's Blade had stopped.
Naruto's fist was pressed against its edge. Not bleeding. Not severed. Unharmed. The blade had not cut so much as a single layer of skin.
"What…" Zabuza breathed, his voice hollow with disbelief.
Not only had the boy stopped his blade—he was holding it there, immovable, as if the massive sword weighed nothing. Zabuza pushed harder. The blade did not budge. It was like trying to cut through a mountain.
This is impossible. This is a child. A genin. He shouldn't even be able to lift a kunai against me, let alone…
Naruto glanced down at the blade with mild dissatisfaction. He had only used half his strength for that punch. He had expected the Executioner's Blade to shatter—after all, he had destroyed kunai with similar force just last night.
But this sword was tougher than he had anticipated.
"Oh," Naruto murmured, almost to himself. "Not bad. It didn't break."
It didn't… break? Zabuza's mind reeled. The boy had expected to shatter the legendary Executioner's Blade with a single punch?
Naruto's eyes hardened. "Let's try that again."
His fist pressed forward.
The blade groaned.
And then—crack.
A hairline fracture appeared along the flat of the sword. Then another. And another. Like ice breaking on a frozen river, the cracks spread.
Zabuza's blood ran cold.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
CRACK—SHATTER!
Naruto's fist exploded through the blade. The Executioner's Blade—the legendary sword of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist—fragmented into a dozen pieces, the shards spinning through the air like broken glass.
Zabuza was thrown backward by the force, landing hard on the tree branch and nearly losing his footing. He stared at the shattered remains of his weapon in his hands—useless now, nothing but a broken hilt attached to a few inches of jagged metal.
His wide, disbelieving eyes lifted to the blond boy standing calmly amidst the floating shards.
"You…" Zabuza's voice was hoarse. "You broke the Executioner's Blade… with your fist?"
Naruto lowered his arm, flexing his fingers. He glanced at the scattered fragments of the legendary sword and shrugged.
"Seems like it."