Chapter no.48 Naruto

Chapter no.48 First Kill

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Konoha wasn’t stupid. Missions weren’t handed out randomly or without prior scrutiny. Behind every mission assigned, especially those involving high-profile figures like Tazuna, was an entire department dedicated to reconnaissance, research, and risk assessment. They combed through details, weighing the costs and dangers, predicting possible outcomes.

When Kakashi had been handed the mission to escort Tazuna, the dangers were already well-documented. Konoha’s intelligence network had flagged the possible involvement of Gato, a crime lord infamous for his ruthlessness and willingness to hire mercenaries to do his dirty work. The chances of encountering dangerous shinobi along the way were high.

And yet, the mission was approved.

Why? Because the potential reward outweighed the risk. If Tazuna succeeded in building his bridge, it would open a new trade route with the Fire Nation. A trade route meant more commerce. More commerce meant more missions for Konoha. And for a village sustained by its shinobi economy, that opportunity was too good to pass up.

As for the danger? That was why Kakashi was on this mission.

But the moment the Demon Brothers attacked, Kakashi had immediately created a shadow clone and sent it to safeguard Tazuna, assigning Sasuke and Sakura to assist. Meanwhile, the real Kakashi silently approached the battlefield, ready to eliminate the threat if necessary.

But that moment never came.

Instead, Kakashi found himself frozen—not by fear, but by sheer disbelief. He had chosen to let Naruto handle the fight to gauge his progress.

After the battle, Kakashi adjusted his internal assessment of his student. In terms of skill, Naruto was around chūnin level.

But in terms of raw power? That was tokubetsu jōnin level power, at least.

These weren’t official levels set in stone, but Kakashi had enough experience to compare Naruto to the average shinobi of those ranks. And Naruto was nowhere near average.

“All in all,” Kakashi thought, “he’s truly Minato-sensei’s son.”

The way Naruto dominated the battle reminded Kakashi so much of his old sensei that it was almost eerie. In such a short amount of time, Naruto had grown exponentially. The potential in him was like a raging fire—unpredictable and untamable. Kakashi couldn’t help but wonder just how much stronger Naruto could become in six months. In a year.

Yet this fight didn’t just fill Kakashi with pride—it unearthed even more mysteries.

His Sharingan tracked every detail, every motion, focusing now on the iron-rusted ring on Naruto’s finger. At first glance, the ring looked utterly mundane—worn, rusted, and wholly unimpressive. But in the heat of battle, it radiated something different. It wasn’t chakra—Kakashi was absolutely sure of that.

Chakra had a flow, a rhythm his Sharingan could trace, a color and movement that made it tangible. This energy? It had none of that. It didn’t flow, didn’t move. It simply was.

No… not just “was.” It did.

The faint energy from the ring didn’t act like chakra but instead seemed to create effects. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Kakashi’s Sharingan caught it. Invisible platforms formed beneath Naruto’s feet as he ran across the unstable mud of Gozu’s Mud Swamp Terrain. Each step was impossibly steady, grounded as though the shifting terrain didn’t exist at all.

“Is this some kind of artifact?” Kakashi wondered. “A fuinjutsu creation?”

But even as he asked himself the question, the answer felt wrong. Fuinjutsu wasn’t this… alien. This wasn’t a seal embedded into the ring; it didn’t have the signature markings of any Uzumaki technique he’d ever seen. And yet, it functioned with the same precision and intent.

His gaze shifted to Naruto’s other hand, where he noticed a second ring, one he hadn’t even realized was there.

“When did he start wearing these?” Kakashi’s frown deepened. “And where did they come from?”

The realization struck him like a kunai to the chest—he hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Naruto had been his student for weeks, but he’d allowed himself to relax, to assume everything was normal. But there was nothing normal about this.

And then there was the sword.

Kakashi’s Sharingan shifted to the drake sword that Naruto wielded with impossible ease. The blade was unlike any weapon Kakashi had seen before. It wasn’t steel. The surface of the sword was organic, with faint muscle-like threads woven into its structure, almost as if it were alive.

It wasn’t forged—it was grown.

The weapon reminded Kakashi of the legendary Seven Ninja Swords of the Mist, artifacts from the Warring States Era. He remembered the stories. Seven pirate crews had ruled the seas back then, their power unmatched. They had kidnapped fuinjutsu grandmasters from the Uzumaki Clan, forcing them to work alongside master blacksmiths. Together, they had created seven legendary swords, each imbued with chakra that allowed them to perform techniques like ninjutsu.

Each of those swords had been a national treasure, capable of turning the tide of any battle.

“Did he find an Uzumaki treasury?” Kakashi thought, his mind racing. That would explain the sword and maybe even the rings but what about everything else?

Kakashi exhaled, forcing his thoughts to settle. His mind cataloged the details—the rings, the sword, the strange energy that wasn’t chakra. Each fact was added to the growing list of mysteries surrounding his student.

Kakashi’s thoughts drifted back to a conversation he’d had with Asuma not long ago.

“Make sure the boy trusts Konoha through you, Kakashi,” Asuma had said. “He’s not like the others. He’s got secrets—more than you think. If you try to force him, he’ll close off, maybe even turn away from the village. Whatever mysteries he’s carrying, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. Don’t push unless you’re ready to lose him.”

Kakashi let out a slow breath as the mist finally dissipated. He had seen enough for now.

Asuma was right. Naruto’s trust was more important than any answers to the questions swirling in Kakashi’s mind. If Naruto wanted to keep his secrets, Kakashi would respect that. He’d be patient, he’d observe, and he’d wait for Naruto to come to him.

At least, Kakashi thought, he’s still loyal to Konoha. For now.

But the mysteries surrounding the boy—his strange power, his weapons, his energy that wasn’t chakra—they weren’t going anywhere. And neither was Kakashi.

“We’re supposed to be subtle, Naruto,” Kakashi said dryly as he flickered into the clearing, his voice calm despite the battlefield that looked like a small-scale natural disaster had occurred.

“You’re slow, sensei.”

“That’s because I trust you, Naruto. I believe in you.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Naruto gestured toward the battlefield, the unconscious form of Gozu sprawled in the dirt. “Well, I killed one ninja and captured the other. Mission accomplished, right?”

Kakashi nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the destruction. He crouched down and picked up Gozu’s limp body with one arm, easily slinging the unconscious man over his shoulder. All the while, his mind was racing,

Kakashi’s visible eye studied Naruto briefly, noting the boy’s calm demeanor, though Kakashi didn’t miss the slight nervous twitch in his fingers. Something was on his mind.

“Sensei,” Naruto started. “Do you… want to meet Oscar?”

Kakashi’s heart skipped a beat. His thoughts immediately derailed, his mind going utterly blank for a moment as questions flooded in.

Oscar?

Did that mean Oscar was here? Now? When? How?

Kakashi’s grip on Gozu tightened slightly, his expression unreadable, though his mind was racing. Wasn’t Oscar supposed to be dead? Did Naruto somehow have some kind of connection to him?

But before Kakashi could process any of it, Naruto brought two fingers to his lips and whistled.

A faint digging sound broke the silence. Kakashi’s eye flicked to the ground, where a patch of mud began to shift. Slowly, a small, glittering creature emerged. A large crystal protruded from its back, glowing faintly with a pulsing energy.

The crystal lizard scurried forward, leaping onto Naruto’s leg and climbing up to perch comfortably on his shoulder. It chirped softly, tilting its head as the crystal on its back shimmered like a prism.

“And what is that?” Kakashi asked flatly, his voice as monotone as he could muster despite the growing headache he felt brewing.

Naruto beamed, proud as could be. “This is Oscar!”

The lizard chirped again, its crystal pulsing faintly as if responding to its name.

Kakashi stared at the strange creature, then at Naruto, and then at the utterly destroyed clearing. His mind made the connection immediately—this wasn’t the Oscar.

Clearly, Naruto had named the creature out of remembrance for the man. But as Kakashi studied the crystal lizard perched on Naruto’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but wonder: what exactly was this thing?

It wasn’t a summon—that much was obvious. Summons bore the distinct signature of chakra, and this creature radiated none of that. It wasn’t a normal animal, either. The glowing crystal embedded in its back wasn’t natural, not in the slightest.

The lizard chirped again, and Kakashi’s Sharingan shifted instinctively beneath his forehead protector, his trained reflexes compelling him to analyze the creature further. Yet, even with his heightened perception and years of experience, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.

The crystal lizard didn’t have a chakra network—not in the traditional sense. Instead, there was something else, something foreign pulsing through its body in regular, rhythmic bursts. The energy wasn’t chakra; it didn’t flow like chakra did. It moved differently, almost mechanically.

It was subtle, but Kakashi’s trained eye could see how the creature’s presence interacted with the environment. Tiny ripples of the same strange energy spread outward from the crystal on its back, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. It wasn’t disruptive—it didn’t damage the surroundings or influence chakra flows—but it was there, like a faint hum of static in the air.

The boy seemed completely at ease with the lizard, scratching under its chin as it trilled happily, the sound almost soothing. To Naruto, this was clearly nothing unusual—he acted like it was just another part of his strange, ever-growing list of mysteries.

Kakashi felt even more exhausted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his visible eye for a moment as he exhaled deeply.

For a brief second, Kakashi understood why so many shinobi turned to alcohol.

“Maybe I should’ve become an alcoholic,” he muttered under his breath, before shaking his head. Hell, no. Jiraiya-sama’s masterpieces are better than alcohol.

A few minutes later, Naruto stood proudly, holding his crystal lizard high like a prized trophy. Sakura and Sasuke looked at him, their expressions ranging from mild disbelief to quiet resignation.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

Sakura leaned closer, her eyes sparkling. “Where did you find him?” she asked, reaching out a hand to pet the strange creature.

Before she could touch it, Oscar hissed, his small mouth opening slightly to reveal tiny, sharp teeth. Sakura recoiled with a startled yelp.

“Oh, I found him injured in some barrels while I was fighting this damn flea-ridden cow,” Naruto said matter-of-factly, releasing a long sigh through his nostrils, as if reliving the memory was exhausting.

“What happened to the cow?”

“Oh, it burned itself to death; I think.” Naruto said it so casually that Sasuke immediately regretted asking. He shook his head, muttering something about how talking to Naruto never made sense.

Meanwhile, Tazuna stood off to the side, sweat dripping down his brow. He watched the scene nervously, his gaze darting between the tied-up assassin and Kakashi, who had just finished securing Gozu to the tree.

“Tazuna-san, it seems your C-rank escort mission is far more dangerous than we were led to believe.”

Tazuna swallowed hard. “I… I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t lie to deceive you. It’s just… I couldn’t afford anything more than a C-rank mission after months of saving up. I have no choice but to beg for your help.”

The old man pulled off his hat and bowed low. “Please, protect me until I can complete the bridge. I’ll pay you the appropriate amount once it’s finished. My daughter, my grandson… my village is counting on this bridge. It’s our only chance to free ourselves from the greed of that tyrant. I beg you, oh great Konoha shinobi.”

Kakashi hummed, rubbing his chin as he considered the man’s words. “Tazuna-san, Naruto just fought two chunin-level assassins. Shinobi specializing in killing, no less. We might face even stronger enemies ahead.”

Sasuke’s eyes lit up at the thought.

Naruto’s grin widened. He stepped forward, raising his Zweihander slightly. “Precept the First…” he said, his voice steady. “A knight’s purpose is to serve… to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

As if on cue, Oscar raised his small arms, as if mimicking Naruto’s sense of grandeur.

Kakashi quirked an eyebrow. “Precept?”

Naruto turned to him, still grinning. “It’s a thing I follow. You wouldn’t understand, sensei.”

Sasuke spoke. “We’re more prepared than a normal genin team, Kakashi. You can’t coddle us forever. We need to face the real world.”

Sakura nodded, though she looked less certain. “Sensei, he’s right. If we don’t face these kinds of missions now, we’ll never grow. We’re ready.”

Kakashi let out another long sigh, though there was a faint trace of pride in his expression. “Fine,” he said finally. “We’ll continue the mission, Tazuna-san, but you’ll be charged the appropriate amount once the mission is over.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “If you had declined… you would’ve left my daughter and grandson heartbroken.”

The words hung in the air, and though the team smiled faintly at his gratitude, Kakashi noticed something deeper in Tazuna’s tone. Those words weren’t meant to guilt them, nor were they a plea for sympathy.

No—those words were for himself.

A quiet mantra, a way to reaffirm his own resolve.

“Alright,” Kakashi said, clapping his hands lightly to gather their attention. “But first, we need to prepare.”

“Prepare how? Are we training tonight?” Naruto asked, casually setting Oscar near the fire where the lizard curled up happily, basking in the warmth.

“No. It’s something more important. During this mission, you’ll likely be exposed to your first kill. And most shinobi… freeze up when it happens.”

Kakashi turned toward the unconscious Gozu. The weight of his words sank into the air like a stone, the casual atmosphere of the camp dissipating instantly. Sakura covered her mouth. Sasuke’s expression hardened, while Naruto’s grin faded into something more serious.

“S-Sensei,” Sakura stammered, “can’t we extract information from this guy? Interrogate him?”

“No,” Kakashi said. “We can’t take that risk. Even if we tried to interrogate him, he could lie, mislead us, or give us just enough false information to waste our time. People like him are trained for this. The most efficient way is to end it here—remove the head and send it back to Konoha. The Yamanaka Clan can extract the truth directly from his memories, no lies, no risks.”

Sakura froze.

Naruto broke the silence, stepping forward and casually drawing his massive Zweihander. “Alright, I’ll do it. This should be easy.”

“Not you, Naruto,” Kakashi said sharply. “You’ve already killed before. This isn’t about you.”

Naruto hesitated, then stepped back, sliding the blade onto his shoulder with a nod.

“I don’t freeze at the sight of blood,” Sasuke said simply. “I’ve seen enough of it. This won’t bother me.”

“I know you won’t, Sasuke. That’s not the point.”

Sakura’s breath hitched as Kakashi’s gaze shifted to her.

“That leaves you, Sakura,” Kakashi said, his tone gentle.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she stared at Gozu, her breathing uneven. “M-Me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But—Sensei, I… I can’t…”

Kakashi stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “Sakura, you wanted to face the real world. This is part of it. The first kill is always the hardest. But you have to push through, or when the time comes and there’s no one else, you’ll freeze. And freezing in battle gets people killed.”

Sakura’s lips trembled as her gaze flicked to Naruto and Sasuke, both of whom were watching her silently. She could feel the pressure mounting, the weight of expectation crushing her. She clenched her fists, but her legs refused to move, her body frozen in place.

Kakashi stayed quiet, giving her the space to decide, but his presence loomed, steady and unmoving. The decision was hers to make.

Sakura’s hands trembled as she reached into her pouch, pulling out a kunai. The polished metal caught the faint glow of the campfire, but her grip on the weapon was unsteady. Her knuckles had turned white from the effort, and her breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps. It felt like her chest couldn’t expand fully, as though the weight of what she was about to do had wrapped itself around her lungs.

Each step toward Gozu felt like dragging iron weights behind her. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. The kunai trembled in her hand as she stared down at him—this man, this assassin, who had tried to kill Naruto and her team. His face was slack in unconsciousness, his head slumped forward against the ropes binding him to the tree.

This is right, she told herself, her thoughts spiraling. He’s dangerous. He would’ve killed us if he had the chance. This is what shinobi do.

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, her legs kept shaking. Her grip on the kunai felt fragile, like it could slip at any moment.

Behind her, Kakashi’s calm, steady voice broke through the storm in her mind. “Take your time, Sakura. But remember: it’s him or us. People like him won’t hesitate. If you freeze when it matters, you’re not just putting yourself at risk—you’re putting your team at risk.”

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the kunai, but it felt heavier now, like it was pulling her down. Her throat was dry, and she realized she hadn’t taken a proper breath in several seconds. She forced herself to inhale, the sound shaky and uneven.

Crouching slowly, she brought the blade to Gozu’s throat. The sharp edge glinted in the firelight, and her eyes darted over his features—the rough lines of his face, the blood crusted at the corner of his mouth, the faint rise and fall of his chest. He looked… human. And that made it so much harder.

Her hand froze.

“Do it, Sakura,” Kakashi said softly, his tone firm but not harsh. “This man is a killer. If you hesitate now, what happens when the next one comes after your teammates? What happens when it’s Naruto or Sasuke on the ground because you froze?"

Her stomach churned violently. She clenched her teeth, tears brimming in her eyes as she pressed the blade against his neck.

It’s him or us, she repeated in her head, over and over again.

Finally, she pushed.

The blade pierced his throat, but her angle was wrong—hesitant. Blood spurted from the wound, warm and sticky against her hands. Gozu’s eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, and Sakura froze in horror.

His body jerked violently, a horrible gurgling sound escaping his throat as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the tree. His wild eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, her fear surged into full-blown terror.

He thrashed, the ropes creaking under the strain, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak—but all that came out was a wet, choking sound.

“Sakura, move!” Kakashi barked, his voice sharp like a kunai slicing through the tension.

Her body moved on pure instinct, her mind blank as she raised the kunai again. With trembling hands, she plunged it into his neck, this time driving it deep. Gozu’s body spasmed once, then slumped forward, completely limp.

Sakura stared at him, her breathing ragged, her hands locked around the bloodied kunai. Her vision blurred as tears spilled freely down her face, and she let the weapon fall to the dirt with a soft thud.

“I… I didn’t mean for him to wake up,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to… to happen like that.”

Kakashi crouched beside her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. His voice was low and steady. “It’s never clean,” he said quietly. “It’s never easy. That’s the truth of this life. But you acted. You didn’t freeze when it mattered, and because of that, you’re still here. Your team is still here.”

She stared at her bloodied hands, her body trembling. “He… he looked at me, Sensei. Like he hated me.”

Kakashi shook his head. “That wasn’t hate, Sakura. That was instinct. The moment he woke up, he was thinking of how to kill you. He wouldn’t have hesitated.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “This wasn’t about him. It’s about you and your team. It’s us or them. And you made the right choice.”

Sakura sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing blood across her cheek. Her legs felt like they would give out, but Kakashi’s hand kept her steady.

“You’ll carry this with you,” he said softly. “We all do. But that weight? It means you care. And as long as you care, you’ll be stronger for it.”

Sakura nodded shakily, though her tears still flowed freely. “I… I think I’m going to be sick.”

Kakashi gave her a faint smile, helping her to her feet. “That’s normal. It gets easier with time.”

Naruto and Sasuke watched silently from a distance. Sasuke’s expression was impassive, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Naruto’s face, however, was softer, his usual energy subdued. He stepped forward and wrapped Sakura in a firm hug.

“Don’t feel guilty,” Sasuke said bluntly, stepping closer. “They wouldn’t, if it were you in their place.”

Sakura nodded against Naruto’s chest, her tears breaking into quiet sobs. Naruto glared at Sasuke but said nothing, just holding Sakura tightly. After a moment, Sasuke sighed and placed a hand on her back, awkwardly joining the embrace.

From a distance, Tazuna watched the scene with wide eyes. He took a shaky swig of his alcohol, muttering under his breath, “Ninjas are scary.”

Meanwhile, Kakashi finished sealing Gozu’s head into a scroll and summoned a ninken to carry it back to Konoha. Standing, he glanced back at his team. “Alright, you three. Let me teach you how to hide a body.”

The Land of Waves was a place of contrasts—hidden beauty drowning in creeping despair. Deep within the dense forest, a hideout had been constructed like a nest, a labyrinth of wooden walkways and rope bridges winding through towering trees. From the outside, it seemed to blend seamlessly into the forest, an extension of the canopy itself.

Gatō strode through the main chamber, his stubby legs carrying him with an air of false confidence. His shaggy brown hair was slick with the humidity, and his small, circular black glasses slid down his sweaty nose. He tugged at his purple tie, his yellow shirt already stained with damp spots. Behind him, two towering bodyguards followed silently, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons, eyes scanning for any unseen threats.

The interior was lit by lanterns crafted from polished iron and thick glass, their light flickering across the rough wooden walls. In the center of the room, lounging on the most expensive couch Gatō could buy, was Zabuza Momochi.

The Demon of the Mist was a towering figure of muscle and menace. His light grayish skin seemed almost ghostly in the low light, and his spiky black hair cast jagged shadows across the walls. Dark brown eyes stared half-lidded at nothing in particular, and the bandages covering the lower half of his face hid whatever expression might have been there. Yet the aura he radiated left no doubt—this was a predator resting between kills, calm and utterly lethal.

“Zabuza,” Gatō said, forcing a smile as he stepped closer. “I assume you’ve been enjoying my hospitality?”

Zabuza didn’t even glance his way. The silence stretched, and Gatō’s forced grin began to twitch. His irritation bubbled beneath the surface, but before he could speak again, a soft voice interrupted.

“Zabuza-sama.”

The voice was calm, almost gentle, yet carried an undertone of quiet strength. From the shadows emerged Haku, moving with an elegance that made his every step seem deliberate. His long black hair shimmered faintly in the dim light, gathered neatly in a white bun holder, while two loose strands framed his delicate face. His large, dark-brown eyes, pale skin, and slender frame gave him an ethereal beauty, but there was a sharpness in his gaze—subtle, but unmistakable.

Haku carried two candles crafted from Dorian Wax, a rare substance created by blending the oil of sea-slicked reeds from the coastal marshlands of Kirigakure with the blood of the person they were bound to. The wax was carefully infused with yang chakra, creating a tether between the candle and the life force of its owner. As long as the person remained alive, the flame would burn steadily.

“Zabuza-sama. The flames have gone out. Meizu and Gozu… are dead.”

Zabuza sighed, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a motion that felt more dismissive than mournful. “Tch. Those fools couldn’t even stay alive long enough to be useful.”

“What do you mean?” Gatō snapped. “Are you saying your subordinates were killed? By who?”

Zabuza’s gaze locked onto the tycoon with enough weight to make him falter.

“By the shinobi guarding that bridge builder.”

Gatō’s face flushed red with anger. “What the hell am I paying you for if you can’t even handle—“

The room changed.

Zabuza’s killer intent seeped into the space like a creeping fog, clinging to their skin and filling their lungs, heavy and inescapable. It was the presence of a predator, not coiling like a snake but stalking like a shadow—a demon born of the mist, silent and suffocating.

Gatō took a stumbling step back, his face pale, sweat pouring down his temples. His bodyguards stiffened behind him, their hands twitching toward their weapons, but the unspoken truth in the room was clear—no weapon could protect them from the man in front of them.

“What… what are you going to do now?”

Zabuza rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. The faint scrape of Kubikiribōchō against the floor filled the silence.

“What I always do.”

He rose to his full height, towering over the room as the lantern light cast jagged shadows across his bandaged face. His grip tightened on the hilt of the Executioner’s Blade, its massive form glinting faintly in the dim light.

“They’re just another obstacle. Just more corpses waiting to fall.”

He took a step forward, the weight of his presence suffocating.

“I’ll silence them,” Zabuza said. “Swiftly or painfully, it doesn’t matter. By the time I’m finished, the only trace they’ll leave behind…”

His hand rested on the hilt of his massive blade, the sharp edge catching the light.

“…will be the blood-soaked mist that carries their screams.”