Chapter 63 Who is the true demon

The forest grew darker as they walked, the trees thick and close.

Naruto, at the front, felt the sadness hanging heavy in the air.

He wasn’t just sensing danger now; he was feeling the pain of the land itself.

The quiet villages, the tired faces—it all spoke of a deep, heavy burden.

Tazuna’s words about Gato echoed in his mind, painting a bleak picture of a people held hostage by fear.

Naruto frowned.

He hated seeing people suffer, especially innocent ones. It made his stomach churn, a feeling he knew well from his own lonely childhood.

“This Gato guy,”

Naruto said, breaking the silence, his voice low.

“He’s really messed things up, huh?”

Tazuna, walking beside him, nodded grimly.

“More than you know, kid. He’s like a shadow, covering everything. People don’t even dare to hope anymore.”

Naruto clenched his fists. Hope was important.

Everyone deserved hope. This bridge wasn’t just about trade or money; it was about bringing hope back to these people.

And Naruto, more than anyone, understood what it felt like to live without it.

Suddenly, a giant, terrifying sword, wrapped in bandages, spun through the air.

It sliced through the trees with a whistling sound, a blur of silver heading straight for them.

“Look out!”

Kakashi yelled, pushing Tazuna and Sakura out of the way.

But Naruto didn’t move. His eyes, sharp and clear, tracked the sword.

It was huge, almost as tall as he was, and it hummed with a strange, powerful energy.

Just as it was about to hit him, Naruto reached out.

Not with a desperate grab, but with a precise, almost casual movement.

His hand closed around the hilt, stopping the massive blade dead in its tracks.

The ground beneath him cracked slightly from the force, but Naruto stood firm, a small, excited grin spreading across his face.

“Whoa!” he breathed, his eyes wide. “This thing is awesome!”

He held the sword up, admiring its size and the intricate design of its hilt.

It was heavy, but in a good way, like a perfect fit for his hands.

He felt a strange connection to it, a hum of power that resonated with his own spiritual energy.

“I’m keeping it,” Naruto declared, already feeling protective of his new prize.

A figure emerged from the mist that seemed to swirl out of nowhere.

He was tall, muscular, with sharp, almost predatory eyes.

He wore a mask that covered the lower half of his face, and his spiky black hair framed a stern expression.

This was Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, a legendary ninja known for his ruthless fighting style.

“Give me back my Kubikiribocho!”

Zabuza snarled, his voice deep and dangerous.

He lunged forward, aiming a powerful kick at Naruto, trying to knock the sword from his grasp.

Naruto, still admiring the blade, barely reacted.

He sidestepped with effortless grace, making Zabuza’s kick miss by a hair.

Zabuza roared in frustration and attacked again, faster this time, his fists flying.

But Naruto, holding the massive sword in one hand, simply weaved and dodged, his movements fluid and precise.

It was like watching a dance, with Zabuza as the frustrated aggressor and Naruto as the playful defender.

Each time Zabuza tried to grab the sword, Naruto would subtly shift, his hand tightening around the hilt, the Kubikiribocho seemingly glued to him.

Zabuza grew more and more enraged.

He unleashed a flurry of powerful blows, but Naruto, without even looking like he was trying, simply evaded every single one.

It was a humiliating display for the feared Demon of the Hidden Mist.

Zabuza tried to use his jutsu but Naruto didn't let him do it as he was always intercepting him.

“You damn brat! What the hell are you!”

Naruto was more of a demon than him. And as he was out of his wit.

Suddenly, two senbon needles, thin and sharp, whizzed through the air and struck Zabuza’s neck. Zabuza froze, his eyes wide, and then he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Another ninja appeared, seemingly out of thin air, dressed in a standard Hidden Mist Anbu uniform.

He had a strange mask that covered his entire face, with only two small eyeholes.

“You’re… ,” Kakashi said, his voice calm, though his visible eye held a hint of suspicion.

“I am a tracker ninja from the Hidden Mist Village,” the masked ninja said, his voice flat and emotionless. “My job is to hunt down rogue ninjas like Zabuza Momochi. He has been a nuisance to our village for too long.”

He walked over to Zabuza’s fallen body, picking up the senbon.

He paused, then added, “Thank you for your assistance.”

Naruto just watched. He knew, with a certainty that hummed in his very bones, that this masked ninja was a fake.

The senbon attack was too precise, too theatrical. And the way Zabuza had fallen—it wasn’t real.

He was alive, just playing dead. Naruto could feel Zabuza’s spiritual energy, faint but still there, a slow, steady pulse that mimicked true death.

He even felt a faint flicker of connection to the Kubikiribocho, a hint that Zabuza was still linked to his sword.

But Naruto didn’t say anything.

He glanced at Kakashi, who seemed to be accepting the story.

Naruto knew Kakashi was smart, too smart to be fooled easily.

Perhaps he had his own reasons for letting this play out.

This wasn’t the end of Zabuza,

Naruto was sure of it. He tightened his grip on the Kubikiribocho.

They would be back. And Naruto was ready for them. This was getting even more interesting.

They continued their journey, a strange tension in the air. Naruto still carried Zabuza’s massive sword, balancing it on his shoulder like it was a mere twig.

Eventually, they arrived at a small, humble house near the coast, surrounded by lush green foliage.

A young woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile greeted them. This was Tsunami, Tazuna’s daughter.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice soft. “Please, come in. You must be tired from your journey.”

As they stepped inside, a small boy with bright, curious eyes, but a sullen expression, peered out from behind Tsunami’s legs.

This was Inari, Tazuna’s grandson.

Inari glared at Naruto, his small face contorted in a scowl.

“What are you smiling about?” he demanded, his voice surprisingly sharp for a child.

“There’s nothing to smile about in this world! Everything is painful! You don’t understand anything about pain!”

Naruto’s smile didn’t falter. He simply looked at the boy, his own eyes showing a deep understanding.

He saw the pain behind Inari’s anger, the fear that had hardened his heart.

He knew what it was like to feel hopeless, to lash out because the world felt too heavy.

Satsuki, however, wasn’t as patient. Her eyes narrowed, and a flicker of anger crossed her face.

She stepped forward, standing protectively in front of Naruto.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, kid,” Satsuki said, her voice surprisingly harsh.

“Naruto knows more about ‘pain’ than you could ever imagine. He grew up hated by everyone, shunned and alone. People treated him like he was a monster, even though he never did anything wrong. He starved, he was lonely, he was… he was treated like dirt his whole life. And through all of that, he still smiles. He still tries to help people. So don’t you dare tell him he doesn’t understand anything.”

Inari’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, surprised by Satsuki’s sudden outburst.

He looked at Naruto again, a hint of confusion mixing with his anger.

Naruto reached out and gently placed a hand on Satsuki’s shoulder, a silent signal for her to calm down.

He then looked at Inari, his smile still gentle.

“It’s okay, Satsuki. He’s just scared.” He looked back at Inari. “You’ve seen a lot of hard things, haven’t you? It’s tough when things are scary. But it doesn’t mean there’s no hope.”

Inari didn’t say anything. He just stared at Naruto, his little jaw set. Then, without another word, he turned and ran out of the house.

Tsunami sighed, a sad look on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking at Team 7. “He’s been through a lot. He’ll come back. He always does.”

Naruto nodded.

“It’s okay, Tsunami-san. We understand.”

He truly did. He knew that for some, hope was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the harsh realities of life.

But he also knew that sometimes, all it took was one small spark to reignite it.

And Naruto was determined to be that spark for the Land of Waves.

As the evening settled, Naruto found a quiet spot outside, his fingers tracing the cold metal of the Kubikiribocho.

It was a fearsome weapon, one that had probably taken many lives.

But in his hands, it felt different. It felt like a challenge, a promise of battles to come.

He knew Zabuza would return, and he knew the masked ninja was part of the act.

This mission was far from over. It was just beginning.