Naruto: I'm in Konoha, my name is Uzumaki Menma

Chapter 376 Zabuza Momochi (Akatsuki Version)

A thick, grayish-white fog enveloped the vast sea.

An old wooden boat, which looked quite old, was slowly cutting through the eerily calm sea and heading into the depths of the fog.

The boat swayed gently with the waves, making a rhythmic "creak-creak" sound, which, together with the "splash" of the boatman's silent rowing at the stern, became the only sound in this silent world shrouded in thick fog.

The air was so humid you could wring water out of it; the cold moisture clung to your skin and clothes, causing a sticky and uncomfortable feeling.

The sky was completely obscured, and everything was shrouded in a hazy, colorless, and directionless gray-white.

"Wow, what a thick fog..." Naruto sat at the bow of the boat, his hands gripping the gunwale, leaning half his body out, his bright blue eyes wide, trying to see what was in the fog, but he could see nothing but churning gray and white fog.

"We can't see anything! The fog is so thick! Are we really heading to the other side? Are we going to get lost?"

His voice sounded muffled in the thick fog, carrying a mixture of curiosity and unease about the unknown environment.

The boatman rowing the boat and Tazna, who was squatting in the middle of the cabin, both looked more serious than usual.

They didn't respond to Naruto's words, but their faces were tense, and their eyes were warily scanning the thick fog around them, as if something terrifying might rush out from behind the fog wall at any moment.

Dazner even subconsciously shrank his neck, clutching an empty wine bottle tightly in his hand.

"Almost...we should be able to see the bridge soon." Tazna's voice was hoarse, more like he was trying to encourage himself than to inform him.

The boatman nodded, gazing into the depths of the fog, and whispered, "Yes, we're almost there. Seeing the outline of the bridge means we're heading in the right direction. Follow the bridge piers, and we'll reach the shore soon. This fog... is a frequent visitor to the Land of Waves, and it's the best cover."

He spoke his last sentence very softly, with a complex meaning in it.

Just then, Hinata, who was sitting next to Menma and had her Byakugan open, suddenly raised her hand and pointed to the thick fog to her right.

"Is that... over there?" Hinata's voice was soft: "An... unfinished bridge? There are a lot of exposed steel bars."

Everyone looked in the direction she pointed.

At first, there was only a thick fog.

But as the ship moved slowly forward, a few minutes later, a huge, silent shadow began to emerge faintly from the depths of the fog.

That was a bridge.

Or rather, it is the remains of a bridge and its unfinished shell.

The thick, rusty steel bars, like the skeleton of a giant beast, pierce through the fog and reach towards the unknown heights.

The bridge piers, partially reinforced with concrete, stand heavily and abruptly in the sea, their surfaces covered with bluish-black moss and seaweed, clearly indicating their age.

The bridge surface, which came to an abrupt end, looked as if it had been forcibly broken by an invisible giant hand, leaving only jagged cuts pointing into the void.

The entire building exudes a tragic and desolate atmosphere, silently standing above the sea of ​​fog, like the remains of a giant forgotten by time.

"Whoa!" Naruto jumped up from the bow of the ship, pointing at the increasingly clear and huge shadow, his voice trembling with excitement: "Wow, what a huge bridge! Menma-nii! Look! Look! It's so high! So long!"

His exclamation sounded particularly loud on the silent, foggy sea.

"Keep your voice down, you idiot!" Tazuna hissed, a tense look on his face.

The boatman added anxiously, "Don't be so loud! It'll be troublesome if we alert the Matsuo Group's patrol boats!"

Naruto shrank back and stuck out his tongue when he was yelled at, but his eyes remained fixed on the bridge shrouded in mist.

Menma stepped forward, stood next to Naruto, squinted his eyes, and observed him carefully.

His gaze swept over the rusted steel bars, the mottled concrete, and the broken sections.

Construction on this bridge has been halted for much longer than just one or two years.

The marks of time and the erosion of the sea have left deep imprints on this unfinished body.

"This is... the bridge that the Land of Waves is trying its best to build?" Menma asked.

Even in the Land of Stars, this amount of work is not a small project. How many years would it take to build in the Land of Waves, a poor country?
Tazner stared at the silent steel and concrete skeleton shrouded in mist, his expression becoming incredibly complex.

There was pride, there was heartache, but more than anything, there was a profound sense of powerlessness and anger.

“Yes…” he sighed, his voice filled with weariness. “The Land of Waves is a poor place. There is little land, so we can’t grow much food. For generations, our greatest hope has been this sea. But the country’s trade is greatly affected by the weather, and we also have to depend on the whims of those big merchants.”

Tazuna reached out, as if to touch the bridge shrouded in mist: "This bridge... is the dream of generations of people in our Land of Waves. With it, we can directly connect to the Land of Fire on the mainland! No longer hindered by wind, waves, and fog, trade will be ten times, a hundred times easier!"

"Our fish and goods can be transported out more quickly; the things we need can be brought in more smoothly. This bridge is our 'bridge of hope' to escape poverty and take control of our own destiny!"

His tone became agitated, but then quickly turned somber, turning into bitterness.

"To build this bridge, the whole country tightened its belt and invested every penny it could. Men went to work on the construction site, women did more handicrafts at home to supplement the family income, and even the children knew to save a bite of food... Finally, the bridge foundation was laid, the piers were erected, and it seemed that hope was about to become a reality..."

Tazner clenched his fists, his whole body trembling.

"The Matsuo Group is here." He forced out the words through clenched teeth. "When they first arrived, they talked a good game. They talked about 'helping the Land of Waves develop,' 'building a better future together,' and promised to invest and help us finish the bridge as soon as possible. At the time, even the daimyo and those nobles were swayed by them and gave them a lot of preferential treatment..."

“But after they used various means to monopolize the country’s foreign trade, control the fishing industry, and squeeze out the small merchants… they changed their tune!” Tazuna’s eyes were bloodshot.

"They sent their thugs to harass the construction site, intimidate the workers, and steal building materials... doing everything they could to obstruct the bridge's construction! Because they don't want the bridge to be built at all! Once the bridge is open, their monopoly will be gone! They want us to be forever dependent on their ships and have them by the throat!"

"And what about your daimyo and nobles?" Naruto interrupted angrily.

"Are they just going to watch the Matsuo Group run rampant like this? Aren't they the rulers of the Land of Waves? Why don't they drive those bastards out?"

Tazuna glanced at Naruto, his eyes filled with sorrow and mockery.

"Kick him out? Kid, you're oversimplifying things." He shook his head.

"Matsuo... is no ordinary businessman. I've heard that he might have the backing of a powerful figure from the Land of Water."

Naruto and Hinata may not fully understand the deeper meaning, but they feel even more angry.

But Kakashi and Menma's eyes narrowed slightly at the same time.

The nobles of the Water Kingdom...

A small country called the Land of Waves, an unfinished bridge, and behind it all lies the undercurrent of power struggles between two major nations.

The Matsuo Group is likely just a front for the Land of Fire and the Land of Water, a pawn in their power struggle over this strategically important location, and a tentacle combining capital and political power.

The Land of Waves, a small island nation with a unique geographical location sandwiched between two great powers, has unfortunately become a chessboard for the great powers' power struggle.

This bridge, which embodies the hopes of the entire nation, naturally became the focus of open and covert struggles between the two sides.

With the bridge completed, the Land of Waves will not only gain a certain degree of autonomy and development potential, but may also lean towards the Land of Fire, and even become a bridgehead for the Land of Fire's sphere of influence to extend eastward.

This is something the Land of Water does not want to see.

Maintaining the poverty, dependence, and isolation of the Land of Waves best serves the interests of certain individuals.

Kakashi's copy of "Icha Icha Paradise" had somehow been closed up.

As he gazed at the tragic silhouette of the bridge in the mist, a sudden realization flashed in his right eye.

As an elite Jonin who had experienced the Third Shinobi World War, he instantly understood the logic behind it, taking into account the geographical environment of the Land of Waves.

Mianma's mind was as clear as a mirror.

The essence of capital is profit-seeking and expansion, and when capital colludes with political power, its greed and destructiveness are amplified infinitely.

The tragedy of the Land of Waves is merely a small microcosm of the turbulent ninja world.

“I saw it.” The boatman’s deep voice broke the silence.

In the thick fog ahead, the outline of a much lower but structurally intact arched stone bridge gradually became clear.

It spans a narrow waterway, has an old-fashioned style, and looks quite old.

“Go through the arch of this old bridge, and behind it is ‘Mirror Lake,’ and my village is right next to the lake,” Dazna explained, his voice finally showing a hint of relaxation as he returned to familiar surroundings, but his vigilance was not completely gone.

The small boat slowly sailed into the dark archway beneath the bridge.

The light suddenly dimmed, with only a lantern at the bow of the boat casting a dim yellow light, illuminating a small patch of rippling water and damp, mottled stone walls ahead.

The air was filled with a strong fishy smell and the stench of rotting aquatic plants.

After a brief period of darkness and confinement, the small boat emerged from the other end of the bridge arch.

My eyes suddenly opened up.

The fog seemed to have thinned out here, and at least we could see within a hundred meters.

They sailed into a relatively wide, calm, mirror-like inland lake.

The lake water was a deep, dark green, reflecting the gray sky and the shadowy scenery around it.

Large swathes of mangroves grow in the lake, their twisted roots extending above the water and their branches intertwining, forming a tranquil and slightly mysterious aquatic forest.

Along the lakeshore, built along the water, is a dense cluster of low, dilapidated wooden houses.

The roofs are mostly covered with thatch or old wooden planks of varying shades, many of which have collapsed or are damaged.

The walls are mottled, revealing the original wood color or covered with mud.

The houses are connected by wooden planks, and there are some narrow, muddy paths near the shore. Dyed fishing nets, like huge gray spider webs, hang from bamboo poles or tree branches, swaying gently in the breeze.

The entire village was silent, with hardly anyone in sight. Only the faint, dim light occasionally emanating from the cracks in a wooden house proved that someone still lived there.

Poverty, ruin, and oppression.

This is the first impression this fishing village gives, and it is also a microcosm of the current situation in the Land of Waves.

The boatman skillfully steered the small boat toward a relatively secluded, simple dock.

The boat gently brushed against the silt at the bottom of the lake and came to a stop.

"I can only take you this far," the boatman said in a low voice, his eyes scanning the lake and the distant village warily.

"People from the Matsuo Group occasionally patrol the lake, so be careful."

"Thank you, brother." Dazner nodded solemnly in thanks, and pulled out a few crumpled banknotes from his pocket and stuffed them into the boatman's hand.

"This is not much money, you can keep it."

The boatman accepted the money silently without refusing, and then gestured for them to get off the boat quickly.

One by one, the people jumped off the small boat and stepped onto the slippery wooden dock, where they heard a creaking sound from their feet.

Kakashi was the last to disembark, giving the boatman a slight nod in greeting.

The boatman said no more, gently tapped the shore with his oar, and the small boat silently turned around and glided back into the fog-shrouded center of the lake, quickly disappearing as if it had never existed.

“Let’s go, let’s go to my house first,” Dazna said in a low voice, tightening his thin clothes and leading the way along the muddy path by the lake, heading deeper into the village.

His back appeared somewhat hunched in the mist, but his steps carried an urgency and heaviness as he headed home.

Naruto looked around curiously at the dilapidated wooden houses and the fishing nets drying in the sun. The excitement on his face faded, replaced by confusion and a vague unease.

Hinata stood close to Menma, her Byakugan sweeping across the silent village. The whole village gave her the feeling of a sickly patient, lifeless and utterly devoid of vitality.

Kakashi stuffed "Icha Icha Paradise" back into his ninja tool bag, put his hands in his pockets, and walked around seemingly casually, but his exposed right eye was quietly observing every detail of the environment.

Footprints on the muddy ground, subtle marks on the corners of the house, lingering smells in the air...

Menma walked at the back of the group, his gaze calmly sweeping over this forgotten corner.

Shortly after they left, three ripples gently spread across the calm lake surface.

Three figures wearing animal masks glided lightly across the water like water birds; they were Uzuki Yugao, Sasuke, and Sai.

They gazed into the distance in the direction where Class 7 had disappeared, then warily scanned the silent fishing village and the lake.

Yugao made a simple gesture, and the three nodded to each other. They blended back into their surroundings and followed at a distance, following along the shadows of the lakeside woods. This was at the same time that Menma and his group set foot on the land of the Land of Waves.

On the other side of the main island of the Land of Waves, at the dock controlled by the Matsuo Group, a completely different scene unfolds.

The massive stone pier stretches into the bay like a greedy maw.

The dock was filled with a dozen or so ships of various sizes, including several large merchant ships with multiple cabins and brand-new sails, which stood in stark contrast to the dilapidated fishing boats of the Land of Waves.

Above the dock stood several newly built warehouses and office buildings with brick and stone structures and glass windows, their style incongruous with the surrounding low wooden houses, showcasing the wealth and power of outsiders.

At this moment, the dock is bustling with activity.

Countless ragged, emaciated civilians from the Land of Waves were carrying goods at the docks like worker ants.

Heavy wooden crates, baskets of fish, and packed goods weighed down their backs.

They lined up in long rows, mechanically toiling under the watchful eyes and shouts of wandering samurai wielding sticks and long swords at their waists, along with ruthless thugs.

The sound of whips whistling through the air, the harsh curses, the thud of goods hitting the ground, the suppressed breathing, and the occasional painful groan all intertwined to create a symphony filled with blood, sweat, and oppression.

The air was thick with the smells of fish, sweat, cheap tobacco, and a sense of oppression.

Inside a three-story administrative building by the port.

In a simply furnished room with a fishy smell, Zabuza Momochi was reclining on a spacious sofa.

His lower face was wrapped in bandages, revealing only a pair of cold, razor-sharp eyes.

He was wearing a black robe with red clouds from the Akatsuki organization, which completely concealed his muscular, cheetah-like physique.

At this moment, Zabuza was slowly wiping a ninja sword lying across the coffee table in front of him with a soft cloth stained with oil.

The blade is long and narrow with a beautiful curve, gleaming with a cold, icy light.

squeak-

The heavy wooden door to the office was pushed open, breaking the silence inside.

A figure dressed in a black robe with red clouds, carrying several lunch boxes wrapped in oil paper, hummed an off-key tune and swayed as he walked in.

He was of medium height, with slightly messy medium-length green hair, and a cynical, slightly smug smile on his face.

What is most eye-catching is that he carries a uniquely shaped ninja umbrella on his back, and a simple-looking sword hilt hangs at his waist.

Green sunflower.

Former Konoha rogue ninja, now a member of Akatsuki, codename "Kong Chen".

"Hey, Zabuza, still polishing your ninja sword?" Midori Aoi casually tossed her bento box onto the low cabinet next to her, walked to the window, and looked down at the dock below through the glass, a mocking smile on her lips.

"I just heard some rumors outside. Those two 'demon brothers' you sent out... apparently failed and fell into the hands of those Konoha ninjas. Tsk, they're really useless."

Zabuza wiped the blade without pausing for a moment, not even lifting his eyelids.

"Just two pieces of trash." His deep, cold voice came through the bandages.

"If a weapon becomes dull or broken, just throw it away. Only the weak who depend on weapons will feel sorry for it."

He has been a defector from Kirigakure for seven years.

Initially, the "Demon Man's" fearsome reputation and strength did attract some desperate men to follow him.

But seven years of wandering and living a life of constant danger and bloodshed served as a cruel sieve, eliminating those who were not strong enough, ruthless enough, or lucky enough.

The Ghost Brothers were the two who had followed him the longest and were somewhat useful, but that was all.

Once dead, they become useless.

For him, followers and partners were essentially just "tools" to be used.

If a tool breaks, regret is unnecessary. At most, consider whether it needs to be replaced, or whether the tool itself is no longer meeting your needs.

Green Aoi turned around, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed. Looking at Zabuza's cold-blooded expression, she raised an eyebrow: "A tool? That certainly suits your 'demon' style. But..."

He drawled, "If we mess up this mission, the generous commission the employer promised will be greatly reduced. The organization has been spending a lot lately, and Xiao Nan keeps talking about 'funds' and 'budget.' If he finds out that we've lost a lot of income because we messed up the mission... he'll have a hard time explaining it to the leader, won't he?"

His words were a reminder, but also carried a hint of schadenfreude.

Zabuza finally stopped wiping.

He slowly raised his head, his cold eyes looking at Green Sunflower, his gaze sweeping over the other's smiling face.

"Explain?" Zabuza's voice carried a chill.

"Whom do I need to explain myself to? Payne? Or... you?"

His murderous aura, like a cold tide, spread silently and instantly filled the entire room.

The temperature in the air seemed to drop a few degrees.

Green Sunflower's smile froze for a moment, and her body, which was leaning against the windowsill, tensed up almost imperceptibly.

He knew perfectly well that the guy in front of him was a monster that had emerged from the blood mist, ruthless, powerful, and disregarded human life.

Although he was forced to join Akatsuki because of Pain's power, he was never truly convinced and lacked a sense of belonging to the organization.

As Payne's "partner" and "monitor" planted beside him, this guy probably harbored resentment for a long time.

It was at this delicate, volatile moment of confrontation.

boom!
The office door was kicked open violently!

A middle-aged fat man, dressed in an expensive but tacky silk suit, with a huge beer belly and an oily face, stormed in, surrounded by a group of fierce-looking thugs wielding clubs and swords.

It was Matsuo, the controller of the Matsuo Group and the employer of Zabuza and Midori Aoi on this mission.

As soon as he entered, he pointed at Zabuza, who was sitting motionless on the sofa, and Aoi, who was by the window, and roared angrily, spitting as he spoke: "You two! What are you good for?! Huh?! My men just confirmed that that old bastard Tazuna has returned to the Land of Waves!"

"Where are the men you sent out? Weren't you supposed to be foolproof? How come they came back unscathed?! I paid a fortune to hire your Akatsuki organization! I didn't invite you here to just sit around and do nothing!"

Matsuo's voice was sharp and shrill, filled with nouveau riche arrogance and anger and fear that things were out of control.

The thugs behind him also cooperated with their master, glaring and baring their teeth, trying to overwhelm the two ninjas in the room who did not look particularly burly with their numbers and imposing presence.

Faced with this sudden intrusion and reprimand, Zabuza didn't even raise an eyebrow. He simply shifted his gaze from Midori Aoi to the furious Matsuo, as if watching a boring farce.

Green Sunflower was taken aback for a moment, then a more playful smile slowly curved her lips.

"Oh? Mr. Matsuo, you're quite angry." Green Aoi's voice was light and airy, with an unpleasantly slippery quality.

He raised his right hand seemingly casually.

whoosh-

A faint, almost invisible silver light flew past Matsuo's fat, greasy cheek at a speed too fast for the naked eye to detect!

scoff.

Matsuo felt a cool sensation on the side of his face, followed by a burning sting.

He subconsciously raised his hand to touch it, and felt a warm, sticky sensation on his fingertips.

Upon closer inspection, a striking bright red stain appeared on the fingertip!

Blood!

He... he dares?!

Matsuo's eyes widened instantly, his anger replaced by astonishment and a rapidly rising fear.

He turned his head sharply, and there was a thin, long needle gleaming with a cold light, which was now trembling and nailed to the heavy wooden door frame behind him, deeply embedded in the wood!
Green Sunflower maintained her throwing stance, her smile growing brighter yet colder: "We'll take care of the mission objectives; you don't need to worry about that. However..."

He lowered his hand, slowly strolled forward, and walked to Matsuo, who was somewhat dazed from the stinging pain and fear in his cheek. He leaned slightly closer to the fat face and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, said, word by word:
"Next time, if you dare to speak to us like that again... it won't just be a scratch. Understand, Mr. Matsuo?"

Green Sunflower spoke softly, but the murderous intent in her words sent chills down one's spine.

Matsuo's thugs then realized what was happening, and filled with shock and anger, they tried to step forward.

Zabuza finally made a move.

He gently put the cleaned ninja sword back into its sheath on his back with a soft "click".

Then, he spread his arms and leaned back against the sofa in an extremely relaxed, even somewhat languid, posture.

However, just as his body leaned back...

boom!
A terrifying killing intent, seemingly imbued with the wails of countless dead souls, erupted like an invisible blizzard, centered on Zabuza, and swept across the entire room!
That was an indiscriminate killing intent!
It is the purest aura of "evil" and "death" that has settled down after Zabuza, the "demon," slaughtered countless lives!

"Ugh...!"

Song was the first to be hit, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an icy hand, and his blood almost froze.

The thugs behind him were even worse off; their faces were deathly pale, their legs were weak, and their weapons clattered to the ground. Some of them even began to tremble uncontrollably, and their crotches were quickly soaked with sweat...

That is the instinctive, uncontrollable fear that creatures feel when facing apex predators!
It was as if, in Zabuza's eyes, these people were no different from ants on the roadside.

Matsuo's face turned from red to white, and then from white to green.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something harsh to save face, but his throat felt blocked, and he couldn't utter a single word.

The immense fear and the stinging pain in his cheek completely extinguished the arrogance that had swelled within him due to his wealth and power.

He turned around abruptly and practically tumbled towards the door, staggering because his legs were weak. Luckily, a thug who could barely stand caught him.

Without turning his head, he forced out a threatening but ultimately cowardly statement: "Three...three days! I'll give you three days! Kill Tazuna, and those Konoha ninjas! Otherwise...otherwise I'll go to the underground gold exchange and cancel the mission! Hmph!"

After saying that, he acted as if his backside was on fire, and led his group of terrified thugs away from the suffocating room in a disheveled state.

The door was slammed shut with a loud bang.

Silence returned to the office.

Only the lingering faint smell of blood and the chilling aftertaste in the air testified to what had just happened.

Green Sunflower walked to the door, easily pulled out the senbon nailed to the door frame, and twirled it nimbly between her fingers, as if it were just an interesting toy.

"Scaring these trash is pointless." He curled his lip and looked at Zabuza: "However, the mission still needs to be done. What are your plans?"

Zabuza slowly sat up straight, and the terrifying killing intent receded like a tide, disappearing without a trace, as if it had never existed.

"The ninjas of Konoha...who is leading the team?" His voice returned to its usual deep tone.

"Kakashi Hatake, an elite Jonin of Konoha." Green Aoi announced the name, a hint of apprehension flashing in her eyes.

He was a rogue ninja from Konoha, so naturally he didn't want to encounter Kakashi, who was known as the 'Copy Ninja'.

"Kakashi Hatake..." Zabuza repeated, his bandaged lips twitching slightly as he let out a soft, ambiguous hum.

"'Copy Ninja'...that's interesting."

"Two days later, when they have settled down and are at their most relaxed."

Zabuza raised his eyes, looked at Midori Aoi, and immediately gave the order: "I'll take care of Kakashi. You take care of the target, and... those few Konoha brats. Be quick and decisive, leave no trace."

In Zabuza's eyes, Kakashi was the only opponent he needed to take seriously.

As for those few low-ranking Konoha ninja brats?
These are just insects that can be crushed with a flick of the wrist; they're more than enough to be handled by Green Sunflower.

“No problem.” Green Sunflower shrugged, a slightly arrogant smile on her face. “Just a few brats who just left the village, easy peasy. It’s been a while since my ‘Thunder God Sword’ has seen any blood.”

Although he was a little annoyed to be treated as Zabuza's subordinate, what could he do when the other party was stronger than him?
(End of this chapter)