Naruto: Faint Smile - CH 101

[Takeshi POV]

I barely had time to register my situation, before he moved.

One moment, he was standing across the pool, smirking like he had all the time in the world. The next, he was in front of me, his massive blade swinging down with the kind of force that would turn most shinobi into two very messy halves.

Fortunately, I wasn’t most Shinobi.

My claymore met his Kubikiribōchō in a deafening clash of steel on steel. The impact sent a shockwave through my arms, the vibrations biting into my muscles as the force of the strike pushed me back. My feet skidded across the water, leaving streaks behind as I struggled to stay upright.

The water rippled violently from the collision, sending small waves lapping at the edges.

Zabuza didn’t let up, standing tall with his blade resting on his shoulder. His grin widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Not bad, kid,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the space. “Most shinobi from the Leaf wouldn’t know which end of the blade to hold, let alone block a strike like that.”

I didn’t respond immediately, adjusting my grip on the claymore. My hands were still tingling from the impact, the vibrations lingering like an aftershock. If I hadn’t been training with Jiraiya these past months, that strike alone would have ended me.

It wasn’t just his strength or his speed—it was the sheer weight behind his swings. Zabuza wasn’t just skilled; like his bingo book entry proclaimed, he was a force of nature, and if I misstepped even once, I’d be finished.

“I’ve had good teachers,” I said finally, my faint smile still in place.

Zabuza replied, lifting his blade effortlessly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He moved again, faster than someone his size, carrying such a massive blade had any right to be. I raised my claymore just in time, meeting his strike head-on. The force of it jarred my entire body, pushing me back another step, but I kept my footing.

Kubikiribōchō was bigger than I had ever imagined, which made sense considering it was a blade meant to cleave through armor, walls, or whatever else got in its way. My claymore wasn’t exactly lightweight, but it felt almost delicate in comparison.

The next strike came from the side, forcing me to pivot and deflect. My arms ached with the effort, and I could feel the strain in my legs as I shifted to absorb the impact. He was trying to wear me down. 

“You’re good,” Zabuza said, his tone almost conversational as he swung again. “But I have fought enough battles to know you’re holding back, brat.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. But he wasn’t right either… 

I knew I could increase my overall strength by tapping into my Yoki, however… that was something I was very reluctant to do; ever since my awakening. So while it was true I was holding something back, it was also true I was putting my all as I was now.

I didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rhythm of his attacks. Each strike was deliberate, calculated, forcing me to react on his terms. He was trying to get in my head, but I wouldn’t let him.

Another swing, another clash of steel. My claymore held, but the vibrations shot through my arms again, sharper this time. I could feel the difference in our raw strength—he had the advantage there, no question. He was also faster than me, and had more experience in battle.

The only thing I had over him was my chakra reserves and my ability to preemptively predict his moves with my sensing, which allows me to compensate for the gap in our power.

The more we fought, the clearer it became… if this had been before my training with Jiraiya, I would’ve been dead already.

The realization hit me as I deflected another strike, ducking low to avoid the follow-up. Jiraiya-sensei had drilled it into me over and over—positioning, leverage, timing. And thanks to that, I had so far been able to keep my head above my shoulders.

But this wasn’t the time to dwell on hypotheticals. And if I didn’t adapt and overcome this obstacle, I wouldn’t have the chance to achieve what I had set out to do with my life, besides, Teresa wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I lost to another swordsman, hell… I’m pretty sure she would take offense to me losing.

He swung again, this time aiming for my midsection. I sidestepped, angling my claymore to redirect the blow. The force sent me sliding sideways, but I used the momentum to put some distance between us.

Zabuza laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “You’ve got some fight in you, I’ll give you that. However, as fun as this has been, I have a job to do, so playtime is over kiddo.”

His chakra flared suddenly, the air around us growing colder. The mist thickened, swirling unnaturally as it began to obscure my vision.

I kept my breathing steady. Things were getting harder… I couldn’t see him anymore, and while I could still feel his chakra, that had become rather useless after the mist had appeared, because within it, his chakra had become a constant in the environment, making the task of locating him impossible by sensing alone.

Not only that, but his thirst for blood was such that I could feel in the air.

“What should I cut first?” Zabuza’s voice came from somewhere in the mist, “Larynx, Spine, Lungs, Liver, Jugular, Subclavian artery, Kidneys, Heart… so many options, so little meat to butcher.”

“Fun,” I replied, shifting my stance.

“You are right… Why pick? After all, you are but a fish atop my chopping board, and we have plenty of time, so let's start by peeling off those scales,”

As he said this, the mist began to close in more and more, swallowing up the edges of the area and everything beyond it. It was almost silent, save for the faint ripple of water and the soft rustle of shifting air.

Every inch of the mist felt like him, as his chakra pulsed faintly through it, weaving a net that blurred everything around me, saturating the air with his presence. It was disorienting, so I had to find another way to deal with him.

I adjusted my grip on my claymore, keeping my stance balanced. My faint smile stayed in place, though my mind worked quickly, cataloging every detail of the environment. The space was still open; I could feel the cool air above and the damp stone below. No sudden shifts, no strange movements. Not yet.

Then he struck.

A sharp whistle of steel cutting through air was the only warning I had before I twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the swing of Zabuza’s blade. The mist obscured him entirely, but the sheer weight of his weapon was impossible to mistake.

I felt the edge of his blade graze my side, a shallow cut burning as it drew blood. My foot slid on the damp stone, but I stayed upright, shifting to face the direction the attack had come from.

“First cut,” Zabuza’s voice echoed through the mist, low and mocking.

The sound came from behind me, and I spun quickly, raising my claymore to block. Nothing. Just empty mist.

Another swing—this time from my left. I managed to bring my blade up in time, the impact ringing out as steel met steel. The force jarred my arms, the vibrations crawling up to my shoulders. He was already gone before I could counter, the mist swallowing him up again.

He was toying with me, he was intentionally letting me feel his presence right before the attack connects just for fun of it, he was circling me like a predator, cutting me little by little. Like a cat toying with a mouse.

Another strike came from above, and I barely dodged, the edge of his blade slicing into my shoulder as I twisted out of the way. The wound was shallow but sharp, the sting laced with the realization that I was one step behind him.

I adjusted my stance, shifting my weight lower and gripping the claymore tighter. I couldn’t rely on my usual methods. If the mist made every inch of it feel like Zabuza, then I had to read him another way.

His strikes came with rhythm—he wasn’t just attacking randomly. He moved like a swordsman trained to dismantle his opponent piece by piece, taking their footing, their balance, their confidence. He was especially known for this, for playing with his targets before the kill.

Another swing, this time aimed at my legs. I jumped back, the blade missing me by inches as it struck the ground with a heavy thud.

“You’re holding up better than I thought,” Zabuza said, his voice shifting again. “Most would’ve fallen by now. But you’re running out of time, kid.”

The mist made it impossible to tell where his voice was coming from, but I kept turning, tracking the direction of each sound, each shift in the air. My shoulder throbbed, blood seeping through the cut. The sting from the graze on my side pulsed faintly with every breath.

“Still smiling?” Zabuza’s voice came again, closer this time.

“Always,” I replied evenly, adjusting my grip. “It’s kind of my thing.”

He laughed, sharp and cold, and then came another strike. This one was faster, heavier. My claymore met his blade again, sparks flying as the force of the impact sent me skidding backward.

I felt the water shift under my feet and adjusted quickly, regaining my balance just in time to redirect a follow-up strike aimed at my ribs, which managed to cut into my skin.

He wasn’t trying to kill me outright—not yet. He was carving me down, one cut at a time.

Another slash came from my right, and I ducked low, the edge of his blade whistling past my ear. I countered with a swing of my own, but it hit nothing but mist.

The silence stretched again, heavy and oppressive. I stayed low, scanning the space around me for any sign of movement.

“Smart,” Zabuza said, his voice carrying from somewhere above. “But not smart enough.”

The attack came from behind this time, a horizontal slash aimed at my back. I twisted, raising my claymore just in time to avoid a lethal strike, though the force sent me stumbling, while also managing to cut into my chest.

I adjusted my stance again, blood dripping from my shoulder, my chest and side. I understood his game now, I understood why he was letting me feel his presence right before the attack, close enough so that I can’t really block, and all I can do is mitigate part of the damage.

He was giving me an option. That was his game… in his eyes, I either prolonged my death for as long as I could taking the false opportunities he was giving, or just embraced it as quickly as I could by doing nothing, letting his blade cut me down. 

Momochi Zabuza, The Demon of the Mist… quite a fitting name considering my current situation. Unfortunately for him… I had no intention of dying, not now or ever, which meant… I had to win this game no matter what.