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Chapter 83 - Taken Advice
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 10:50:52 +0000 UTCMy muscles screamed as I forced chakra through every fiber, shunshin carrying me through the misty darkness like a bullet. The blue spiral of Naruto's rasengan blazed ahead, about to meet Zabuza's massive blade in what would've been a very messy introduction between steel and flesh. Mostly Naruto's flesh, which wasn't exactly the outcome I was hoping for tonight.
My ankles felt like they were going to snap as I forced myself to a sudden stop between them, one hand shooting out to grab Naruto's wrist while my other hand flowed into the gentle fist stance.
I clamped around Naruto’s wrist, yanking his arm out of the sword's path, and my hand met Zabuza’s blade—not with muscle, but with flow.
The Kubikiribōchō was a beautiful piece of death dealing, sure, but it was also ridiculously oversized, which made redirecting its momentum almost laughably easy when you knew what you were doing. Almost. The fact that Zabuza was still nursing wounds from earlier helped, too, though I wasn't about to get cocky about it.
"What the—Eishin?" Naruto's voice cracked with surprise, his Rasengan still spinning dangerously close to my ribs.
Zabuza wasn't just any missing-nin, though. The Demon of the Mist had earned that title through more than just his charming personality.
He gave up on the swing midway. Smart bastard.
One of his hands peeled away from the handle and whipped toward my head like a striking snake. I’d been in enough street brawls in my first life to know what a real punch looked like. This one? It had murder in its knuckles.
Well, shit. Both my hands were occupied, and Zabuza's fist was about to redecorate my face in ways that would make even Tsunade's medical expertise useless.
Lucky me, then, I had more than two hands.
I'd activated my signature jutsu before diving into this clusterfuck. My floating hand of fire flew up just in time and intercepted Zabuza's punch. His fist slammed into the fiery palm, and I couldn't help but grin as the hand closed around. The bandage of his hand sizzled and smoked.
“Oh, look who it is,“ Zabuza growled, his voice carrying that distinctive rasp that made him sound like he gargled with gravel every morning. “Well, ain’t you a dramatic bitch.”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t done.
Naruto's Rasengan was still spinning in his palm, all that destructive potential just waiting to be put to good use. Waste not, want not, as they say.
“Up you go, buddy,” I muttered.
“Waaai!“ Naruto so eloquently agreed.
I yanked him upward by the wrist like he weighed nothing more than a training dummy, pivoting and driving his hand—and that beautiful blue orb of concentrated chakra—straight into Zabuza's exposed torso.
The missing-nin's eyes widened, but he couldn't pull back, not with his fist trapped in my fire hand like a mouse in a very painful trap.
I was about to say something cheesy—Got you, or maybe Bet you wish you stayed in bed, huh?—but Haku decided it was the time to play hard to get.
Half-dead, slumped against a tree like some tragic painting, his body broken from taking a Rasengan for his so-called master—but his hand still moved. Three kunai, flicked with the kind of grace that made me hate how beautiful he was, even while bleeding out.
The projectiles hissed through the mist, straight for Naruto.
I was so jealous and so pissed off.
Even discarded, he still protected Zabuza.
“Shit—”
I yanked Naruto mid-air, pulling him above me in a messy arc like a ragdoll gymnast. Away from the projectiles. Aborting the attack. Then let go of him. My own kunai materialized in my free hand, deflecting two of the projectiles with sharp metallic clangs.
But Zabuza wasn't just standing there admiring my technique. The bastard took a step back, dragging me with him since his fist was still trapped in my fire hand, and my parry went wide. The third kunai found its mark in my shoulder with a wet thunk that sent pain shooting down my arm.
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. Injured, already. This was not optimal with the voyeur yet to make a move.
Zabuza's grin was practically visible through his bandages, all smugness and anticipated victory. My gaze shifted from him to Haku, who was slumped against a tree like a broken doll, shoulders mangled from taking the brunt of Naruto's rasengan earlier.
Even injured, even pale as fresh snow with pain etched across his features, he was still breathtakingly beautiful. It was almost unfair, really—how was a guy supposed to concentrate on not dying when faced with that kind of aesthetic perfection?
The corner of his lip lifted into a faint, soft smile.
My annoyance melted into a sigh. "You know," I called out to Haku, "I'm usually the one doing the penetrating." I gestured vaguely at the kunai on my shoulder, smile never wavering. "Say…. ever consider a career change? New master, better benefits package, significantly less chance of being discarded like a broken tool. You’d get breakfast. Belly rubs. Though should warn you, the penetration thing is my thing. What do you say?"
Haku blinked slowly.
"Oh, but that is not possible, you see…. by the time I'm done with you," Zabuza snarled, his voice carrying the promise of creative violence, "you'll be too dead to master anything but the art of fertilizing forest soil."
That… that was a good one.
Though I would rather fertilize something soft, alive, and with long legs. Preferably his student’s womb… hopefully…. there was one too.
Anyway, no matter what, this overgrown fish stick was being a third wheel.
My teeth ground together hard enough to make my dentist weep, and with the pure, unadulterated power of petty spite coursing through my veins, I ignored the pain and the wet warmth spreading down my shoulder and drove my kunai straight at Zabuza's throat.
This time, I wasn't pulling punches or playing around. There's a difference between having the opportunity to kill someone and going out of your way to do it—and right now, this bastard had firmly crossed into the former category.
But the Demon of the Mist hadn't earned his charming nickname through good looks and sparkling personality.
The psychotic son of a bitch opened his mouth and bit down on my kunai, catching the blade between his teeth like some demented party trick. The tip sliced clean through his cheek from the inside, blood streaming down his face in crimson rivulets, but he held that kunai in place with nothing but jaw strength and what I could only assume was pure, distilled insanity.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered, staring at the grotesque display. "Demon of the Mist? More like Cockroach of the Mist. Do they teach 'how to be a pest’ as part of the curriculum in Kirigakure?"
Zabuza's smile was a nightmare of blood and steel, the kunai gleaming between his teeth as he spoke with disturbing clarity despite having a blade literally bisecting his mouth. "Takes more than a pretty boy with fancy jutsu to put me down, kid."
I took offense at that. I’m handsome, not pretty.
I deepened my grip on the kunai, pushing harder to no avail.
“Well, color me surprised,“ I sighed, “Let me show you a trick then,“ I leaned in, lips curling. “See, usually I only hold hands with girls, but—” I shoved harder, “—for you, I’ll make an exception.”
My fire hand, still wrapped around Zabuza's fist, suddenly shifted its grip. The flames licked and danced as I forced his fingers open. Zabuza's eyes widened—probably the first genuine surprise I'd managed to wring out of him all night.
Taking a page straight from Sasuke's playbook, I quickly forced six awkward hand seals using my fire hand and Zabuza's. They weren't perfect—hell, they barely qualified as functional—but sometimes you work with what you've got. Zabuza thrashed against the manipulation, but I was already leaping backward, releasing the kunai.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
The seal flared, the air warped, and a gout of fire roared from my mouth.
The sphere of flame that erupted wasn't my strongest—not by a long shot. When you're performing jutsu through a proxy and with less-than-ideal hand seals, you take what you can get.
But it was still a fireball the size of a small house, and it engulfed Zabuza with all the subtle grace of an angry god having a particularly bad day.
The heat washed over me even at this distance, singing the mist away and turning the air shimmering and thick. When the flames finally died down, leaving behind scorched earth, burning trees, and the acrid smell of burned bandages, Zabuza was still standing.
Still fucking standing.
His clothes were charred, his bandages were smoldering, and he looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a dragon and lost, but the bastard was upright and breathing. Cockroach indeed. I was starting to think this guy could survive a direct hit from a tailed beast and ask for seconds.
Sure, I didn’t finish him off—but I bought us space. Killing him wasn’t exactly penciled into my schedule, and I wasn’t too keen on testing whether I’d walk away intact anyway, especially not with the lurking variables.
The entire exchange, from my entrance to this moment, had taken maybe two seconds. Two seconds of pure, concentrated chaos that left my shoulder throbbing, my ankles screaming, and my opinion of Zabuza's survivability significantly higher.
"Eishin!" Naruto's voice cracked as he and Sai converged on my position, the blonde stumbling slightly as he landed. His blue eyes were blazing with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. "What the hell was that about? You—You threw me!"
“Technically,” I said, holding up a finger, “I redirected you. With style.”
“You stopped my attack!” he barked. "I had him! I— I was close!"
“Closer to losing an arm,” I muttered, rolling my injured shoulder and immediately regretting it.
Sai gave Zabuza a slow, clinical glance. “…Interesting technique,” he noted. “Is biting weapons a common thing among underprivileged Mist children?”
I snorted. Is…. is this his attempt at making a joke? I hoped it was, but I was not optimistic.
"He appears remarkably resilient," he observed in that flat, emotionless tone that somehow managed to sound both helpful and creepy. "Perhaps we should consider alternative strategies for permanent incapacitation."
"Mmm," I hummed in response to Sai, because sometimes the most profound observations deserved the most eloquent replies.
Naruto plopped down beside me like a sack of potatoes, all graceless exhaustion and teenage dramatics. "God, I feel like I got hit by a boulder," he huffed, reaching down to yank one of the senbon embedded in his thigh. The sharp intake of breath he made as the needle came free was almost lost in the mist, but I caught it. "Stupid ice boy and his stupid needles."
"You holding up okay there, sunshine? You're looking a little green around the gills."
Naruto’s eyes darted away from mine before snapping back like he couldn't decide where to look. "I'm fine," he said quickly, voice cracking just slightly on the words. "Just... tired, you know? And everything's kinda spinning." His hand pressed against his temple, fingers trembling almost imperceptibly.
Was he still embarrassed from last time? Good, but…..
I frowned.
Leaning down to get a better look at him. His breath hitched when I got close, blue eyes going wide before he tried to cover it with a scowl. “W-what—“
I plucked one of the senbon from where it had fallen beside him, holding it up to catch what little light was available.
Sai materialized at my shoulder with that unsettling, silent grace of his, eyes fixed on the needle in my hand.
"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," I groaned, staring at the innocuous-looking needle.
"What?" Naruto asked, though his voice sounded more slurred than it had moments before. "What's wrong with it?"
My gaze snapped over to Haku, who had the absolute fucking audacity to look apologetic about the whole thing. Those dark eyes met mine across the clearing, and despite being half-dead and slumped against a tree, he managed a weak smile.
"I took your advice," he said, each word seeming to cost him considerable effort. "About... improving my methods."
Fuck.
"They're poisoned," Sai announced with all the emotional inflection of someone commenting on the weather.
I ran a hand through my hair and immediately regretted it when my shoulder screamed in protest.
"Fantastic. Absolutely fucking fantastic." Because apparently, giving tactical advice to pretty enemy shinobi was just another item on my ever-growing list of spectacularly bad life choices.
Right up there with flirting with said enemy shinobi and sleeping with the Hokage’s wife and the village’s jinchuriki.
