23 Flowing Mirror
As Zabuza stood triumphantly on the surface of the water, he couldn't help but smirk at the sight of the boy's seemingly defeated form sinking into the depths below.
"Never underestimate a shinobi, boy," Zabuza taunted, as he mocked the fallen silver-haired ninja.
"In this world, survival of the fittest is the law of the land."
His voice carried across the serenity of the moment, echoing off the water and trees.
----------
He surveyed the scene before him, sneering as his gaze fell upon the shore. There, the rest of Hayashi's teammates stood.
Zabuza's swift stride carried him to the shore, where they awaited him, poised and ready for battle.
With calculated precision, he dispatched them one by one. After each fell, Hinata remained the sole survivor. Standing among the debris of his conquest, he couldn't shake the strange sensation of power coursing through him.
Meanwhile, Hinata could only watch in horror as her comrades fell one by one, tears welling up in her eyes as she grasped the enormity of the situation.
Her heart pounded with fear and grief as she observed her fallen comrades lying motionless on the ground.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Hinata's resolve remained unshaken. Rising to her feet, she steeled herself against the despair threatening to consume her.
Through her tears, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She knew she couldn't let Zabuza get away with his heinous actions, not while her friends lay wounded and Hayashi's whereabouts and condition remained unknown.
With a defiant glare, she met Zabuza's gaze head-on.
Sensing her determination, he merely chuckled.
"You believe you can best me, especially in your current state?"
Zabuza sneered, his voice dripping with contempt as he loomed over the trembling Hinata.
"You're nothing but a feeble girl. Remember, I was once among the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist."
As Zabuza poised for the final strike, a voice sliced through the tension like a blade through mist.
"One of the Seven Ninja Swordsman, huh?"
Startled, he whirled around, searching for the source of the voice.
"What? Where?" he demanded, his muscles tensing as he scanned the surrounding area for any sign of movement.
His eyes widened in shock as he spun around, only to find himself staring directly into Hayashi's yellow eyes. A fleeting moment of recognition passed between them before the chaos erupted.
With a fluidity that contrasted his ferocity, Hayashi surged forward, his blade slicing through the air.
Zabuza's instincts kicked in. They drove him to meet the attack head-on. The clash of their blades reverberated through the tranquil stillness of the shoreline.
The force of the impact sent both ninjas staggering back, each struggling to regain their footing. Zabuza's mind raced as he assessed his opponent, beginning to formulate his next move.
However, his concentration shattered abruptly by a whisper that seemed to materialize near his ear, a merciless echo of his earlier taunts to Kurenai.
"You are but a mere distraction."
Before he could react, a sudden presence loomed behind him. A dark shadow appeared in the periphery of his vision. Instinctively, Zabuza spun around. His muscles coiled like a spring, prepared to unleash fury. However, it was too late.
A searing pain tore through his abdomen as Hayashi's blade found its mark with ruthless precision.
The world seemed to spin as Zabuza staggered backward, blood gushing from the wound and staining the ground crimson beneath his feet.
Disbelief clouded his vision as he struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. How could he, the feared Demon of the Mist, have fallen victim to a kid?
Each step Hayashi's figure took toward him seemed to bear the ominous weight of impending doom.
As the presence drew nearer, there was no pause for parley, no moment of hesitation. Driven by instinct honed through countless battles, Zabuza lunged forward with a ferocity that had struck terror into the hearts of many.
To his astonishment, his strike landed true. Hayashi recoiled, blood seeping from the wound inflicted by his blade.
But Zabuza's triumph was short-lived as Hayashi, seemingly unfazed, reappeared before him.
'Was it a clone?'
Zabuza's mind whirled with confusion as he stared at the unscathed figure before him.
The sight of blood had been real, undeniable evidence of his triumph in combat. Yet, here stood Hayashi, as if untouched by the violence that had transpired moments before.
With a frustrated growl, Zabuza wearily lunged forward, his blade aimed at his enemy. But to his surprise, the Hayashi before him vanished into thin air, leaving him grasping at nothing but empty space.
Confusion clouded Zabuza's mind as he looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. But before he could react, he realized that he was still standing on the surface of the water, far from the safety of the shore.
"This... this must be a genjutsu," Zabuza muttered to himself, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He focused his chakra, attempting to break free from the illusion that had trapped him.
Suddenly, the mist appeared around him, thickening and obscuring his vision.
And then, he saw them – glowing, eagle-like yellow eyes, peering at him from the darkness.
At first, there was only a pair, but soon, more and more eyes appeared, surrounding him on all sides. Zabuza's heart pounded in his chest as he realized that he was really trapped in a genjutsu.
Desperate to break free, Zabuza focused all his strength on dispelling the illusion, but to no avail. The mist only seemed to grow thicker, the eyes more menacing as they bore into his soul.
----------
"Impressive, isn't it," a voice echoed in Zabuza's mind.
It was Hayashi, his voice calm despite the surrounding chaos.
"Since when?" Zabuza demanded, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
"Since you felt the sting of the Mirroring Serpent," Hayashi's response was composed, almost matter-of-fact, as if he were simply stating the weather forecast.
A shiver ran down Zabuza's spine as he recalled the moment of impact, the searing pain that had coursed through his body like fire. It had been more than just physical – it had been as if his very essence had been laid bare, exposed to the whims of his opponent.
"Flowing Mirror," Hayashi's voice echoed like a river's gentle current, yet it carried a weight that seemed to anchor Zabuza to the spot.
Before he could react, he felt a peculiar sensation envelop him, as if reality itself were being bent and reshaped. It dawned on him then—Hayashi had unleashed his Flowing Mirror technique. What he had once dismissed as a mere water attack now revealed its true power.
In an instant, the world around Zabuza seemed to shift and warp, the mist swirling around him like tendrils of shadow. And then, with a sudden clarity, he saw it – the water, shimmering with an otherworldly light, reflecting the world above like a mirror.
But it was no ordinary reflection – it was a perfect replica, every detail painstakingly recreated with unnerving precision.
Zabuza's heart raced as he realized the implications – every move he made, every thought that crossed his mind, was now laid bare for his opponent to see.
"No... this can't be," Zabuza muttered through clenched teeth, his voice almost drowned out by the relentless cascade of water.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Zabuza understood – he was no longer in control, not for a moment.
Every sensation, every emotion, was now at the mercy of Hayashi's manipulation, his reality twisted and distorted beyond recognition.
Zabuza's mind raced as he tried to grasp the gravity of his predicament.
"So, everything... my senses, my movements, all of it..."
"Is under my command," Hayashi finished, his voice a whisper that cut through the chaos like a shadow gliding on water.
"You are but a puppet," he continued, "and I am the master puppeteer, orchestrating every dance of fate."
"Enough," Zabuza's growl reverberated against the swirling water, his blood mingling with the currents.
"Finish me," he demanded, his voice a raspy whisper, yet unwavering in its defiance.
With no one interfering and no prying eyes, Hayashi's lips curled into a smile.
"Let's talk," he said softly.
