Zabuza's sandals skimmed the clay tiles, behind him, the pursuit continued.

'Just a bit further,' he thought. 'If I hit the coast, I can swim across. Kojiro won't let them follow me too far—he's still too scared of Kiri.'

Once across the water, he could tell the Mizukage everything. This thought pushed him harder, his muscles burning with effort.

A black-clad figure appeared from the shadows—an ANBU with an eagle porcelain mask. But Zabuza didn't slow down. He charged straight at the ninja, reaching for the handle of his massive sword.

The ANBU's hands blurred through seals. "Water Style: Water Bullet Jutsu!"

High-pressure water bullets shot from his mouth. Zabuza twisted in mid-air, feeling the moisture on his skin as the bullets whistled past.

As the last bullet passed, he snapped back into his charge. He closed the distance in an instant, the Kubikiribōchō cleaving through the air as it clashed against the ANBU's hastily drawn sword.

Clang!

They exchanged blows, moving faster than the eye could follow.

"You're good," Zabuza grunted, blocking a strike aimed at his throat. The force sent vibrations up his arm. "But I'm better."

He feinted left, then dropped low, sweeping the ninja's legs. As the ANBU lost balance, Zabuza surged upward. The blade found the gap in the armor, its massive blade cleaving through flesh and bone.

The ANBU gasped, then went limp. Zabuza didn't pause. More pursuers were closing in, their chakra signatures were getting closer.

He sprinted towards the edge of the roof. With a burst of chakra, he leaped, soaring across the gap between buildings. As he flew, he saw the horde below. The cultists moved in perfect sync, twisting and climbing like inhuman creatures.

He landed on the next roof, rolling to absorb the impact. He was up and running again instantly, channeling chakra to his feet as he hit the wall of the next building. Defying gravity, he ran straight up, each step leaving a faint blue glow of chakra behind.

Two more ANBU appeared, running parallel to him on either side. He gritted his teeth. Annoying pests.

The ANBU on his left threw a barrage of shuriken. Zabuza ducked, feeling the wind from the projectiles ruffle his hair. One grazed his cheek, leaving a thin line of fire.

Poison?!

He quickly swung the Kubikiribōchō in a wide arc, the massive blade creating a barrier.

The ANBU dodged, but lost momentum. The ninja fell behind, leaving Zabuza to focus on the remaining threat.

The ANBU on his right closed in, tanto blade glowing with a blue light. Zabuza met the attack with the flat of his blade, the clash of metal ringing out.

Cling! Clang!

They fought as they ran, neither giving ground, their feet never missing a step on the vertical surface.

Zabuza analyzed the ANBU's style, looking for weaknesses. There – a slight favoring of the left side, barely noticeable but enough to exploit.

As the ANBU prepared for another strike, Zabuza suddenly reversed direction. The unexpected move caught the ANBU off guard, their strike hitting nothing but air. In that split second of imbalance, Zabuza struck. The Kubikiribōchō found its mark, cleaving through the ANBU's defense and into their body.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The ninja fell to the street below. Zabuza allowed himself a smile, but the victory was short-lived.

The remaining ANBU had used the distraction to get behind him, his blade slicing through Zabuza's flesh.

He roared in pain and anger, the sound more animal than human. He spun, ignoring the pain in his side, and grabbed the ANBU's arm. Using the ninja's own momentum, he hurled them off the wall, sending them tumbling through the air.

As the ANBU fell, Zabuza's hands blurred through seals, drawing on the moisture in the air and his own sweat. "Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!"

A massive dragon made of water erupted from a nearby canal, its glowing eyes fixed on the falling ANBU. With a roar that shook the buildings, it smashed into the ninja and the cultists below. The street flooded, bodies washing away in the torrent, their inhuman shrieks cut short by the rushing water.

Zabuza didn't wait to see the aftermath. He was already moving, pushing his body to its limits. The docks were in sight now, the promise of escape was in reach.

As he approached the water's edge, he stopped. The sea was alive, but it wasn't the gentle lapping of waves that caught Zabuza's attention. It was the creatures emerging from the depths.

They erupted from the depths. Moonlight caught their slime-slicked hides. Hunched and malformed, they shambled from the surf.

In the distance, massive shapes breached the surface – whales, but grotesquely altered. Their broad backs carried more of these monstrosities, turning them into living troop transports for this army of abominations.

Shit...

He'd seen horrors in his years as a shinobi but the sight of countless deep ones swarming the shore made him uncomfortable.

The creature's webbed hand reached for him, jolting Zabuza into action. His body responded before his mind could process, years of training kicking in as he dodged their claws.

Chakra surged through Zabuza's pathways as his fingers channeled power for the jutsu. "Water Clone Jutsu!" he growled, his voice rough with exertion.

In an instant, three perfect copies of Zabuza materialized from the seawater. They formed a semicircle between Zabuza and the advancing monsters.

The deep ones attacked with a speed and coordination that shouldn't have been possible for their misshapen bodies. Zabuza and his clones met the charge, their blades glinting in the pale moonlight as they clashed with the horde.

Metal rang against chitinous armor, disrupted by the wet sounds of torn flesh and shattered bone. But the deep ones' cries were wrong—inhuman shrieks that vibrated through his skull and set his teeth on edge, their alien frequencies making his very marrow ache.

Zabuza's blade found its mark again and again, but where blood should have flowed, only ichor oozed. The creatures lurched on, heedless of wounds that would fell any mortal foe. A deep one with a gaping chest wound simply swayed back to its feet, gnashing its teeth – row upon row of needle-sharp fangs – and rejoining the fray.

As his clones bought him precious seconds, he quickly analyzed the situation with the cold logic of a trained killer. He couldn't win this fight – not against these numbers. His only hope was to break through their lines and make for the open water.

With a grunt, he formed another set of seals, pushing his chakra to its limits. "Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!" The sea behind him roared to life, forming into a massive, serpentine shape that dwarfed his previous creation.

The water dragon crashed into the horde of deep ones, scattering them like bowling pins, their inhuman bodies crushed by the force of the impact.

Zabuza seized his chance. He dashed forward, using the confusion to slip between the stunned creatures. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran, each step precisely placed to avoid the grasping hands and snapping jaws of the fallen deep ones.

But for every deep one he dodged, two more seemed to take its place. His nostrils flared at the stench—rotting fish and something far fouler. All around him, glistening limbs reached out, webbed fingers grasping for purchase on his flesh.

A harpoon whistled past Zabuza's ear. He twisted, but not fast enough to avoid the barb entirely. Warm blood trickled down his jaw.

Then pain exploded across his back as claws raked his flesh. He felt the familiar warmth of blood soaking through the tattered remains of his shirt.

The horde pressed in, their breath hot on his neck.

Without hesitation, Zabuza's hands blurred through seals, moving faster than they ever had before. He took a deep breath, feeling the chakra build within him to near-bursting levels. "Water Style: Great Waterfall Jutsu!"

The ocean itself seemed to rise up at his command.

A massive wall of water, easily fifty feet high, formed behind him. For a moment, it hung there, suspended. Then, with a roar that drowned out even the screeches of the deep ones, it crashed down onto the beach.

The water struck with devastating force, sweeping away everything in its path. Deep ones were tossed like driftwood, their bodies smashing against rocks and buildings.

Zabuza surrendered himself to the current, using the wave's power to carry him down the coast. Debris battered his already roughed up body, but he clung to consciousness, one hand firmly gripping the handle of his beloved sword.

As the waters receded, he found himself sprawled on jagged rocks, coughing and sputtering. Every movement sent daggers of pain through his muscles, but he forced himself upright, scanning the altered shoreline.

The beach lay bare, strewn with the broken forms of deep ones. They should be dead...