Chapter 86: The Art of the Dramatic Entrance
The mist didn't part so much as it conceded, yielding space to the silhouette that manifested upon the hilt of the monstrous blade. Zabuza Momochi stood with his back to them, muscles coiled like steel cables under damp skin, his very posture a study in controlled violence. The killing intent radiating from him was a physical weight, thick and cloying as the fog itself.
[Tobirama Senju: Another poseur. Is this a prerequisite for being a missing-nin? A mandatory course in dramatic staging?]
[Uchiha Izuna: In the Warring States, anyone who turned their back on the enemy like that would have a dozen senbon in their spine before they finished their first arrogant thought.]
[Tobirama Senju: It explains Ren's own theatrical tendencies. It's clearly a pandemic.]
[Uchiha Madara: This 'demon' reeks of amateur theatrics. If he tried that pose in my presence, I'd take that oversized kitchen knife and beat him to death with it.]
[Hyūga Hizashi: To contemplate disarming such a weapon barehanded… truly, only Madara.]
[Third Raikage: So this is the infamous 'killing intent' I've heard about? It's… pungent.]
"Well, well," Kakashi's voice cut through the tension, deceptively light. "If it isn't Kirigakure's missing-nin, Zabuza Momochi. Slumming it in the Land of Waves, are we?"
Zabuza didn't turn. His voice was a low rumble, like stones grinding together at the bottom of a deep well. "Copy Ninja Kakashi. I've heard the stories. The man with a thousand jutsu. You're the only one here worth the metal of my blade."
Naruto, trembling but defiant, blinked. "Missing-nin? What's that?"
Ren, without taking his eyes off Zabuza's back, answered in a stage whisper. "It means he's a ninja who's really good at… long-distance jogging. Always running from someone."
"A runner? So he's just a coward!" Naruto's fear evaporated, replaced by indignant bravado. "My time to shine! Kakashi-sensei, you hog the spotlight all the time! Move over!"
"Naruto, no—!" Kakashi's warning was too late.
Naruto's hands flew through the seals with surprising speed. "Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Poof. Poof-poof-poof-poof—
Hundreds of Narutos materialized in the clearing, a sea of orange and yelling that momentarily pushed back the mist. It was an impressive display of raw chakra, a testament to the Uzumaki lineage screaming from his cells.
[Tobirama Senju: Hm. Substantial chakra reserves. The boy has that, at least.]
[Yagura Karatachi: Reserves mean nothing against refined technique. Zabuza will sweep them aside like leaves.]
Zabuza finally moved. A slow, contemptuous turn of his head, one eye visible over his bandaged shoulder. It held no alarm, only a bored kind of malice. "A child's party trick. You waste my time."
His hands flashed—not the elaborate, showy seals of a performer, but the economical, brutal motions of a butcher. A single fluid sequence.
Suiton: Mizurappa! (Water Release: Wild Water Wave)
A torrent of chakra-infused water erupted from his mouth, not as a focused blast, but as a wide, crushing wave. It wasn't a high-rank technique. It didn't need to be. It was a broom for insects.
The tidal force hit the front rank of clones, and they vanished in puffs of smoke. The wave rolled on, obliterating the next, and the next. In three seconds, the clearing was empty of orange, leaving only the original, soaking-wet Naruto staring in slack-jawed horror.
"I… all of them? One jutsu?"
Kakashi sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. "I did tell you." His hand went to his forehead protector. The game was up. The Sharingan would have to come out. He needed every advantage.
But as his fingers touched the metal, a different spark caught his eye.
Not chakra. Not reflection.
A tiny, almost invisible paper tag was fluttering where it had been stuck to the rough bark of the tree, right beside the embedded Kubikiribōchō. It must have been planted when the blade first struck. It was a miracle the impact hadn't set it off.
Kakashi's Sharingan—not yet fully uncovered—caught the faint, familiar script: 互乘起爆札 (Mutually Multiplying Explosive Tag).
Ren.
Zabuza, sensing Kakashi's momentary distraction, smirked. "Already giving up, Copy Ninja? I haven't even begun to—"
"Katsu." (Detonate.)
The word was spoken softly, almost casually, from where Ren Arakawa stood, his hands in a single, completed seal.
The world turned white, then orange, then deafening.
BOOOOOOM—!
The initial explosion was catastrophic, shredding the lower half of the massive tree trunk into splinters. But it was only the opening note. The true horror of Tobirama Senju's forbidden technique unfolded in a chain reaction of apocalyptic geometry.
The first tag's explosion spawned two more, which appeared adhered to the flying fragments and the remaining stump. They detonated.
Boom-boom!
Those four became eight.
Boom-boom-boom-boom!
Eight became sixteen, clinging to rocks, to mist droplets, to the very air around Zabuza. The explosions multiplied not in a line, but in a rapidly expanding sphere of utter annihilation, a firestorm of concussive force and shrapnel that consumed the space where the demon had been standing.
The shockwave hit the Konoha team like a physical wall, forcing Kakashi to plant his feet and brace, his arms coming up to shield his face. Tazuna was blown off his feet. Sakura screamed, the sound swallowed by the thunder. Sasuke's Sharingan spun wildly, trying and failing to track the incomprehensible cascade of detonations.
For five full seconds, the clearing was a pocket of hell, a roaring, flashing orb of pure destruction that tore the mist apart and lit the gloomy forest in stark, strobing relief.
Then, silence. A ringing, smoky, splinter-laden silence.
The giant tree was gone, replaced by a crater smoldering with dozens of small fires. The smell of ozone, burnt wood, and chakra-scorched earth was overwhelming.
The Kubikiribōchō lay on the far side of the crater, its surface blackened and smoking.
Of Zabuza Momochi, there was no immediate sign.
Naruto slowly lowered his arms, his mouth hanging open. Sakura stared, trembling. Sasuke's Sharingan desperately scanned the smoke.
Kakashi slowly turned his head to look at Ren, who was lowering his hands, a faint, satisfied smirk on his lips.
[Tobirama Senju: …]
[Uchiha Izuna: …]
[Uchiha Madara: … He used my technique? No, wait. That's… Tobirama's abomination.]
[Tobirama Senju: My Mutually Multiplying Explosive Tags. He used them. Perfectly. The placement… the timing… to use the enemy's own dramatic entrance as the anchor point…]
There was a long pause in the chat.
[Tobirama Senju: …Alright. I'll admit it. That was efficient.]**
[Minato Namikaze: HE NEARLY BLEW UP MY SON! AND THE BRIDGE BUILDER! AND THE FOREST!]
[Kushina Uzumaki: SHUT UP, MINATO! THAT WAS AMAZING!]
From the swirling, settling smoke at the edge of the crater, a figure staggered into view. It was Zabuza, but not as he was. His left arm was a mangled ruin of burnt flesh and torn muscle, hanging uselessly. Cuts and burns crisscrossed his torso. His bandages were smoldering. He leaned heavily on a kunai dug into the earth, breathing in ragged, wet gasps.
He lifted his head, his one visible eye locking not on Kakashi, but on Ren. The killing intent was gone, replaced by something colder, more profound: the pure, undiluted hatred of a predator who has just been mauled by something he thought was prey.
"You…" he rasped, blood flecking his lips. "You little…"
Ren met his gaze, the smirk still in place. He raised a hand and gave a little, mocking wave.
"Welcome to the Land of Waves," Ren said, his voice cutting through the ringing silence. "The check-in process is a bit… explosive. Hope you enjoyed your dramatic entrance. It was your last one."