Zabuza sat back and ate his meal, albeit a bit slower than usual so he could hear the old man’s proposal. The man smiled generously as he began, fingers intertwined over the table, “Despite everything you have achieved, Demon of the Mist, you remain a lowly Genin.”

Zabuza nearly broke a chopstick but he’d expected that to be mentioned and so he simply exhaled and glared at the man, “It’s no fault of mine.”

The man chuckled, “Oh on the contrary, I think it is every bit of your fault.” The chopsticks broke but the man only seemed to grow more amused, “You are not the only clanless shinobi within Kirigakure’s ranks but you are among some of the strongest. So why? Why are you still a Genin, Zabuza?”

Zabuza growled, he didn’t have time for tests from a fool of an old man, no matter how powerful he might truly be. “I thought you had something to offer me, you didn’t say anything about riddles and tests.”

The old man shrugged and Zabuza scrutinised the [Transformation] jutsu that covered his true identity. It was rather intricate and advanced as Zabuza could usually see through the [Transformation] of most shinobi he’d worked with. The technique, to an experienced shinobi, appeared and functioned like an optical illusion.

A suspicious squint would break the spell cast by most Genin and it would take greater focus and scrutiny to dispel the illusions placed by Chuunin or even a lazy Jounin, if there was such a thing. However the technique remained vulnerable to physical contact by its nature and no matter who cast the illusion, Zabuza only needed to touch them for it to be dispelled.

Should I? He was sorely tempted to. He’d already devised a number of ‘accidental’ ways to reveal the old man’s true identity but he hesitated. Not just out of caution for the powerful shinobi seated in front of him but because he hadn’t heard the offer yet.

“Tests, riddles, trials and tribulations are all things you will need to prepare for should I state my offer. Surely you are intelligent enough to understand that I need to gauge your self awareness as much as your battle prowess?”

Zabuza bit his lip behind his mask at the thought of answering the man’s question. He tossed a bite of meat-rice ball and chewed vigorously as he brought himself to speak a truth he’s known for years but never vocalised.

“It’s because I have too many enemies and not enough friends. I don’t even have acquaintances that will work to my favour without taxing me first. I…I am alone.” Even the sweet taste of beef couldn’t wash away the sickness welling up in his throat and gut.

Right from the moment he earned his rank as Genin as well as his infamous moniker, Zabuza had lost any chance of making allies with most shinobi in the system. It was one thing for the Sandaime Mizukage to permit a lethal battle royal but it was another for him, a clanless child, to take advantage of it.

What Zabuza did merely fell in line with the Sandaime Mizukage’s ideals for the village and he did so with vigour to prove he was the ideal shinobi of his generation. The Sandaime seemed to have changed his mind after then because that was the last year lethal battle royales were permitted.

Ever since, shinobi of his own village, many who had partaken scowled at his presence and shunned him, calling him a demon child. A title he didn’t relish at first but soon grew to. He had no friends, no help, even his own landlord hated his presence but was merely poor enough not to say no to money or to Zabuza’s blade.

The old man nodded and leaned forward, “I can be that friend, the one friend you need.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“If only I do what? I’m not so alone that I don’t know what true friendship is, do not try to sugarcoat your own greed.” Zabuza sneered, hating every lasting second of the conversation.

Cackling the old man smacked his knees and shook his head, “I should keep to my own lessons ay? Very well then, we will call it as it is, a trade. In exchange for ensuring your path to Chuunin, access to weapons and jutsu of a main clan as well as a hefty lump sum payment for your efforts…you, the Demon of the Mist, will defeat Mangetsu Hozuki once more.”

Zabuza’s eyes widened, not at the promises but at the assignment. “What does this have to do with Hozuki?”

“Does it really matter? All you have to do is defeat him like you did during the Seven Swordsmen tourney. You can do that, can’t you?”

Of course I can but…should I? Zabuza wasn’t one to spit in the face of an offer that would bring the upward growth he’s desired and fantasised about for years. But this was not at all how he expected it would fall in his lap. Maybe it's time, you’ve put in the work for years. It’s time to reap the rewards.

Despite his own encouragement Zabuza rested his back against the booth and asked, “What’s in it for you?”

The old man snarled and waved the question away like a fly, “No need for such, Zabuza, think only of what I am offering. A connection with one of the main clans, think about it!”

Zabuza narrowed at the man, “That’s another thing. You are asking me to defeat Mangetsu Hozuki so I assume that excludes the Hozuki clan from the equation. And the Yuki haven’t been as low tier as they are now in decades, then there’s the Hoshigaki…they wouldn’t hide their identity to approach me, they are proud sharks. So that leaves Lord Fourth’s clan, the Karatachi and the Funato clan.”

The old man said nothing for a moment and Zabuza grinned, “Hahah. I see. The Funato clan needs a demon. I hope you’re satisfied with my…self awareness.”

The man leaned forward as he disapprovingly shook his head, “You must believe that your promotion is well underway, any moment from now. After all, you performed exemplary on the field.”

Zabuza shrugged, “What can I say? I showed Lord Fourth my worth when I defeated his apprentice, again when I fought in the war and right before his very eyes when I defended his ships. Yagura-sama will not forget me.”

The man cocked his head to the side and a sick smile curled his lips, “Ho? Just as the late Sandaime did not forget you?” Zabuza bristled in his seat, lurched out to touch the insolent man and break his [Transformation] jutsu. But he was too fast. Before Zabuza could move across, a hand was already on his back and the figure he reached for was nothing but an afterimage.

“Let’s talk somewhere more private.” the old man said as he pulsed chakra around him and Zabuza. In a flurry of movement Zabuza was forcefully dragged out the grill bar and brought onto a rooftop.

He dashed away from the man the instant he could, retrieving senbon and kunai to protect himself from more violations. The man had brought them to a high point but not far from the grill bar, the cool air of the mist whipping about the clouds and billowing their clothes did not distract Zabuza from the man as he raised a single hand seal.

“Kai” he released his [Transformation] and revealed his identity, baleful old eyes fixed Zabuza with a glare as he spoke again, “If I so wished, the Lord Fourth would never think of you again. Do not deny yourself this opportunity, Demon of the Mist. Come and fight for my clan.”

Zabuza let his arms drop uselessly beside him. Lord Funato himself, I stand no chance. He thought, his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He knew the man was powerful but to be one of the oldest and most powerful figures in the village…

He thought of what he’d just threatened. Could he do it? Zabuza shook his head. No, I’ve made an impression on the Mizukage, I know that. I trust that. And yet he had made the same impression on the Sandaime and he had suffered years for it.

“What exactly do you want, Lord Funato?”

The man as old as Kirigakure smiled, “I need you to win me an island.”