Filler!
The sun shone brightly over the Land of Waves, casting a golden hue over the village. It was a rare moment of peace, and Team 7 intended to make the most of it. On the dirt road near the market square, a small crowd of children had gathered, eyes wide with excitement as they watched two shinobi upside down, balancing on their hands.
Naruto and Sasuke were locked in a fierce handstand competition, their arms trembling slightly as they tried to outlast the other. A bead of sweat rolled down Naruto’s temple, but he grinned despite the strain. “Tch—ha! You’re going down, Sasuke!”
Sasuke scoffed, his voice as steady as ever. “Hn. You wish, dobe.”
Sakura, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, sighed dramatically. “You two are such idiots.”
Harry, however, smirked, casually jingling a small pouch of ryo in his hands. “Shh, Sakura. Let them be. I’m making money off of this.”
Sakura shot him an incredulous look. “You’re betting on them?”
Harry tilted his head, his grin widening. “No, I’m the house. The kids are the ones betting. And who am I to deny them the opportunity to waste their money?”
Among the spectators, Inari clutched a handful of coins, eyes flicking nervously between Naruto and Sasuke. “Come on, Naruto! Don’t lose! I put all my savings on you!”
Naruto, still upside down, gasped. “Wait—WHAT?!”
The sudden shock made him wobble, and Sasuke took full advantage, shifting his weight slightly to stay balanced. Naruto gritted his teeth, determined not to let down his ‘investors.’
Meanwhile, in the background, Kakashi leaned against a wooden post, eyeing his students with amusement. His single visible eye curved into a lazy arc, and his presence—completely unnoticed by most—resembled that of a silent, ever-watchful predator.
A single thought passed through Sakura’s mind as she noticed him standing there, completely still: He’s just... watching us. Like some kind of cyclopean creep.
She shivered slightly before turning back to the contest.
The crowd erupted into cheers and groans as Naruto finally lost his balance and tumbled onto his back with a loud “Oof!”
Sasuke flipped back onto his feet with practiced ease, crossing his arms smugly. “Hn. Looks like I win.”
The kids who had bet on Sasuke cheered, while the ones who had supported Naruto groaned in defeat. Inari let out a dramatic wail. “MY SAVINGS!”
Harry, unbothered by Naruto’s loss, shook his coin pouch, satisfied. “Pleasure doing business with you all.”
Naruto shot up, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You rigged this, didn’t you?!”
Harry merely shrugged. “Not my fault you lost.”
Naruto bristled, and he stomps forward, grabbing Harry by the collar of his hoodie. And just like that, their arguing began, which was slowly going to turn into a fist-fight.
Sakura rolled her eyes as the fighting continued, while Kakashi let out a hum of approval. “Ah, youth.”
You would think that after losing the last competition, Naruto would have learned his lesson. But after finding a ramen shop, he challenged Kakashi to an eating contest. Naruto grinned wickedly, slamming a fist against the wooden counter of ramen. "Alright, Kakashi-sensei, you and me—ramen eating contest!"
Harry, always one to seize an opportunity, clapped his hands together. "Oh, this is perfect! Bets, everyone! Who’s gonna win—our lazy, mysterious cyclops of a sensei or the bottomless pit that is Naruto Uzumaki?" He gestured dramatically, and soon a small pile of ryo was building up as children and villagers eagerly placed their wagers. Even Inari, who had been hesitant to join in on the previous handstand bet, tossed in a few coins.
Sakura groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You guys are ridiculous."
Sasuke, standing slightly apart from the chaos, wrinkled his nose as he watched Naruto bounce in place, hyping himself up for the challenge. "This is disgusting," he muttered under his breath as he eyed the rapidly approaching bowls of ramen.
The villagers, who had initially been mere spectators, were now fully engaged. A chant began in the background, growing louder with every passing second. "Eat! Eat! Eat!"
Kakashi, ever the enigma, stared at Naruto with his lone visible eye. "Are you sure about this, Naruto? I’ve been known to have a rather... interesting eating style."
Naruto scoffed. "Ha! Like I’d be scared of you. I was born for this, dattebayo!"
The ramen shop-owner, grinning from ear to ear, placed two towering stacks of ramen in front of them. "Alright, first to finish five bowls wins. No cheating!"
Harry’s smirk widened as he counted the growing pile of money in his hands. "Oh, this is going to be so good."
And with that, the chaos officially began.
The scene descended into utter madness.
Naruto, hunched over the ramen stand, was practically inhaling his food, each movement a blur as he shoveled noodles into his mouth at a speed that defied human capability. His cheeks bulged as he slurped up an entire bowl in one go, broth dripping down his chin, but he didn’t care—he had a competition to win.
Across from him sat Kakashi, calm and composed as always. The mystery of how he was eating with his mask still on only added to the surreal spectacle. His bowl would empty in seconds, yet no one ever saw him lift the mask. It was as if the ramen simply vanished the moment his chopsticks touched it. The villagers and children in the background chanted his name, while others screamed for Naruto, the stakes rising higher with every second.
Meanwhile, Harry was off to the side, grinning like the greedy little businessman he had become. His pockets were getting heavier by the minute as more and more villagers placed their bets. Some believed Naruto’s bottomless stomach would secure his victory; others were convinced that Kakashi, with his eerily smooth eating skills, was going to win. Every time the odds seemed to shift, Harry sweet-talked another few people into betting more, practically swimming in Ryo at this point.
Sakura, sitting beside Sasuke, had her face buried in her hands. “Why are we even here?” she mumbled, trying to block out the ungodly slurping noises.
Sasuke, on the other hand, was staring at the scene with his nose slightly wrinkled, an expression of absolute disgust twisting his features. "This is repulsive," he muttered. The way Naruto was eating, if one could even call it that, bordered on some sort of horror show. And Kakashi? His mysterious, silent consumption of ramen without revealing even a sliver of his face was, quite frankly, unsettling.
Then, just when the chaos couldn’t possibly get any worse, Naruto tried to speak mid-slurp. It backfired spectacularly as he choked on a mouthful of noodles, flailing wildly as Sakura instinctively reached over and smacked his back.
“Idiot!” she scolded as he gasped for air, only to immediately resume eating like nothing had happened.
The crowd only roared louder, the chants and cheers filling the village square. It was no longer just a simple ramen competition—it was an event, a legend in the making, and an absolutely ridiculous, messy, chaotic affair.
The moment the final bowls were cleared, the entire village fell into stunned silence. Then, a beat later—
“KAKASHI-SENSEI WINS!” Harry announced, and the crowd erupted into cheers and groans, depending on who they had bet on.
Naruto slammed his hands onto the table, looking absolutely betrayed. “HOW?! There’s no way! I was eating way faster than you, dattebayo!” He pointed a dramatic, accusatory finger at Kakashi, who simply sat there, a relaxed, eye-smiley expression on his face as if he hadn't just devoured an ungodly amount of ramen.
“Maybe you were just too slow,” Kakashi mused, tapping his chopsticks against his empty bowl.
Naruto’s eye twitched. “NO. You cheated! You totally cheated! There’s no way you won fair and square!”
Sakura, still trying to recover from witnessing the horror that was Naruto’s eating habits, blinked. Then, narrowing her eyes at their ever-mysterious teacher, she deadpanned, “You used genjutsu, didn’t you?”
Kakashi gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Sakura, I’m hurt. Do you really think I would stoop so low?”
“Yes.”
All three of his students—Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke—answered simultaneously.
Kakashi merely shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
Naruto was ready to explode when Harry, still grinning like a cat, let out a low whistle and patted his now significantly heavier pockets. “Honestly, I don’t care who won,” he said, smugly flipping a Ryo coin between his fingers. “I made a killing off of this.”
Naruto turned to him with wide, betrayed eyes. “You bet against me?!”
Harry smirked. “I played both sides.”
Sasuke shook his head in mild disgust, while Sakura groaned. The villagers, still chatting and laughing over the spectacle, began to disperse, leaving Team 7 with their supposedly victorious sensei, who somehow still looked as composed as ever.
As Naruto continued to rant about how the competition was rigged and how he was definitely challenging Kakashi again, the rest of Team 7 could only sigh.
The Land of Waves was proving to be an experience.
The villagers gathered in a small clearing, forming a loose circle as they prepared for a round of Kemari, a traditional game requiring balance, agility, and teamwork. The goal was simple: keep the ball in the air using only their feet, knees, shoulders, and head—no hands. It wasn’t a game of brute force, but one of skill, finesse, and coordination.
Naruto, naturally, was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a grin stretched across his face. “Alright, get ready to lose!” he declared, pointing dramatically at the opposing team of village boys.
One of them, a lanky boy with a confident smirk, snorted. “Big talk for a shinobi who probably doesn’t even know the rules.”
Naruto blinked. “Rules?”
Sasuke sighed. “Buffoon.”
Sakura exhaled through her nose, already resigning herself to the chaos.
Harry just cracked his knuckles. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
The ball was tossed into the air, and the game began.
Naruto was the first to react, lunging forward and kicking the ball high into the air with a little too much enthusiasm. It soared toward Harry, who quickly adjusted his footing and redirected it with his knee, sending it toward Sakura.
Sakura moved with precision, angling her body just right before giving the ball a controlled tap with her thigh. It hovered in the air for a moment before one of the village boys intercepted, twisting his body mid-air and launching it toward his teammates.
Sasuke, ever the perfectionist, tracked the ball’s movement with sharp eyes. When it came his way, he didn’t waste any motion—just a swift, efficient kick that sent it spinning toward Naruto.
Naruto, completely missing Sasuke’s controlled approach, leapt like a maniac and swung his foot only to hit the ball too hard. It nearly sailed out of bounds before Harry dashed forward and saved it with a well-timed shoulder bump, laughing as he regained his balance.
The villagers were quick, and their teamwork was seamless. They weren’t shinobi, but they knew the rhythm of the game far better than Team 7. The match was fast-paced, feet tapping against the dirt as the ball bounced between players. The villagers relied on their familiarity with the game’s rules, while Team 7 adapted quickly, their shinobi reflexes making up for their lack of experience.
Sakura quickly learned how to predict the ball’s trajectory, her sharp mind assessing angles and force with each pass. Naruto, despite his chaotic energy, had stamina on his side, leaping and twisting in the air like an acrobat. Sasuke’s movements were calculated, never wasting a step, and Harry—though unfamiliar with the game—was quick on his feet, using his natural speed and instincts to keep up.
The villagers were getting competitive, shouting and laughing as they tried to outplay the shinobi. The match was evenly matched until—
“Oi, the pink-haired girl’s actually pretty good,” one of the village boys muttered as Sakura smoothly kicked the ball back into play.
Another boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, for a girl.”
There was no warning. No hesitation. No buildup as Sakura’s fist shot forward with lightning speed, striking the boy square in the nose.
The ball hit the ground with a dull thud and the game was instantly forgotten as all movement ceased.
The boy staggered back, clutching his nose, eyes wide in shock. His friends gawked.
Naruto, Harry, and Sasuke reflexively took a step back, exchanging glances that clearly said Damn before wincing slightly in sympathy.
Kakashi, standing in the background like the cryptid he was, merely hummed in amusement, turning a page in his book.
Sakura dusted off her knuckles, her expression calm and composed as she stared the boy down. “Try saying that again,” she said sweetly, her voice dripping with venom.
The boy gulped. “N-Nope! I’m good!”
The rest of the village boys scrambled to reset the game, hastily suggesting a different activity. Preferably one with less punching.
Naruto coughed, barely containing his laughter. Harry leaned toward Sasuke, whispering, “That was possibly the fastest life lesson I’ve ever witnessed.”
Sasuke’s only response was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.
And with that, the game moved on—though the boys were much, much more careful about what they said around Sakura from that moment on.
The rhythmic clank of hammers against wood and the creak of shifting beams filled the air as Team 7 rolled up their sleeves—metaphorically, in Kakashi’s case—and got to work. The bridge stretched out before them, an impressive structure of sturdy planks and thick ropes, half-built but standing strong against the misty sea breeze. Tazuna and his workers moved efficiently, carrying wooden beams, hammering supports into place, and double-checking structural integrity.
Naruto, ever the loud one, cracked his knuckles. “Alright, old man! Just tell us what to do!”
Tazuna squinted at him, then sighed. “Alright, fine. You—” he jabbed a finger at Naruto, “—carry those wooden planks over to that side.” He turned to the others. “Sasuke, you can help reinforce the support beams. Harry, take that rope and secure the scaffolding. Sakura, double-check the nails over there. And you—” his eyes landed on Kakashi, who was still reading his book. “If you’re gonna stand there, at least do something useful.”
Kakashi gave an exaggerated sigh, flipping a page. “I’m providing moral support.”
Tazuna scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Get to work, you lazy cyclops.”
To everyone’s surprise, Kakashi actually closed his book and, without a word, moved to help stabilize one of the heavier wooden beams. The sight alone was enough to make Naruto blink in disbelief before getting to work himself.
Naruto grabbed a stack of wooden planks, balancing them on his shoulder with an exaggerated grunt. “Ugh—these are heavy!”
“You’re just weak,” Sasuke muttered as he carried two beams with minimal effort, effortlessly maneuvering between workers.
“Oh yeah? Say that again, I dare you!”
Sasuke ignored him, already securing his beams in place with careful, precise movements. He worked with the focus of a craftsman, making sure each support was in the perfect position before hammering it in.
On the other side of the bridge, Harry was tying thick ropes around the scaffolding, making sure the knots were tight and secure. His fingers worked deftly, muscle memory kicking in from years of tying bandages and securing his own gear. The rough fibers bit into his palms, but he barely noticed. He tugged on the last knot, testing its strength before stepping back with a nod of approval.
Sakura was crouched beside a section of planks, a hammer in hand as she meticulously checked each nail. She ran her fingers over them, making sure they were driven in at the right angle. Some were a bit loose, so she hammered them in properly, her expression focused.
Kakashi, surprisingly, was lifting wooden beams into place like it was nothing. The workers side-eyed him, slightly unnerved by how effortless he made it look. Despite his usual lazy demeanor, his movements were controlled, precise—evidence of his shinobi training.
As they worked, the sounds of construction blended with the occasional bickering.
“Oi, Naruto, stop messing around and work properly,” Sakura scolded as Naruto wobbled under the weight of the planks.
“I am working! Look at these gains!” He flexed one arm, nearly dropping the planks in the process.
Harry snorted. “You have the upper body strength of a noodle.”
Naruto shot him a glare. “Says the guy who needs a sword to fight!”
Harry smirked. “And yet, I still kick your ass in sparring.”
“Oi!”
Tazuna shook his head at their antics, but a small smile tugged at his lips. It was refreshing, seeing kids act like kids, despite the world they lived in.
After a while, the heavy work slowed, and Tazuna leaned against a wooden railing, wiping sweat from his brow. He let out a thoughtful hum.
“Y’know… it’s strange,” he muttered.
Harry, who was double-checking his knots, glanced up. “What is?”
Tazuna crossed his arms. “Gato’s goons. We haven’t seen or heard anything from them in a while.” His expression darkened slightly. “It makes me nervous.”
A brief silence followed. Sasuke’s grip tightened on his hammer. Naruto exchanged a look with Harry. Even Kakashi’s usual carefree demeanor dimmed ever so slightly.
“That is weird,” Sakura admitted. “Gato doesn’t seem like the type to give up easily.”
Kakashi finally spoke, voice calm but unreadable. “It could mean a few things. Maybe he’s reconsidering. Maybe he’s planning something.” He let out a sigh. “Or maybe it’s just the calm before the storm.”
That sent a ripple of unease through them, but Kakashi clapped his hands together, shifting the mood. “Well, let’s not dwell on worst-case scenarios. It’s better to enjoy the peace while we have it.”
Naruto nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! And once this bridge is done, the village is gonna be free, right?”
Tazuna gave a slow nod, his expression lightening. “That’s the plan.”
Sakura, dusting her hands off, leaned against a wooden beam. “So, what happens when the bridge is done?”
At that, Tazuna grinned. “Most likely? A festival.”
Naruto perked up. “Festival?”
Tazuna chuckled. “Before Gato came along, we used to have traditional festivals every year. The whole village would come together—there’d be food, music, games. People would wear yukatas, and the kids would run around with sparklers. It was something special.”
A warm feeling settled over the group at the thought of it.
Sakura smiled. “That sounds nice.”
Naruto grinned. “I’d totally destroy you guys in festival games.”
Sasuke smirked. “In your dreams.”
Harry cracked his knuckles. “If there’s gambling, I’m making bank.”
Kakashi, flipping a page in his book, casually added, “I wonder if they’ll have festival-exclusive Icha Icha merchandise.”
Sakura let out a suffering groan.
The conversation shifted into playful banter as they continued their work, the lingering tension from earlier momentarily pushed aside. But beneath the surface, the thought of Gato’s eerie silence remained.
Hidden in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, a woman in a tattered cloak, quickly leaves, as she processed the information she now has.
The wind howled through the dense forest, rustling the leaves as a lone figure sprinted through the undergrowth. She moved with practiced ease, her steps light despite the urgency pressing down on her. The damp earth muffled her footsteps, but the sweat on her brow betrayed how far she had run.
Nestled deep within the woods, hidden beneath thick foliage and jagged rock formations, was the entrance to the base. To an outsider, it was nothing but a natural part of the terrain—overgrown, unassuming. But she knew better. Steeling herself, she pressed a hand against the rough stone and muttered, “The silent mist never speaks.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a faint grinding noise, the hidden entrance slid open just enough for her to slip inside.
The air within was thick with dampness, tinged with the metallic scent of weapons and the lingering bitterness of burning oil from torches lining the stone walls. The cavernous hideout stretched ahead of her, dimly lit, filled with the sound of low murmurs, the scraping of steel against whetstones, and the occasional cough of a tired mercenary.
She moved swiftly past hunched figures sharpening blades and tending to injuries, not sparing them a glance as she headed toward the chamber at the very heart of the base. The room was sparse but commanding—maps and battle plans littered the surfaces, crates of stolen supplies stacked in the corners, and in the center, sharpening his massive executioner’s blade, was Zabuza Momochi.
The eerie screech of the grindstone against steel filled the space as Zabuza methodically honed the edge of his weapon. Across from him, Haku sat at a crude wooden table, carefully aligning an array of senbon needles, his face unreadable.
Zabuza didn’t look up. “This better be important.”
The goon exhaled sharply, still catching her breath. “Tazuna and the villagers—they’re planning a festival.”
Zabuza’s hand stilled, the sharpening stone hovering just above his blade.
“They expect to finish the bridge in three days,” she continued. “Once it’s done, they’re going to celebrate.”
Silence settled over the room. Then, slowly, Zabuza’s lips curled into a smirk beneath his bandages. “A festival, huh?” His voice was low, considering.
A festival meant the entire village gathered in one place, vulnerable, unsuspecting. It would be the perfect time to strike, to crush the town in one swift, brutal attack.
But the goon shifted uneasily. “There’s something else.”
Zabuza’s gaze darkened. “Spit it out.”
She hesitated. “The Copy Ninja and his team… they haven’t left.”
That got his full attention. He turned, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening.
“They’re still in the village?” His tone was sharp, edged with irritation.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “They’ve been helping with the bridge construction. If they were planning to leave, they would have by now.”
The smirk on Zabuza’s face disappeared. He had assumed Kakashi’s team would complete their mission and be on their way, leaving the village defenseless. But if they were still there, it meant Kakashi suspected something—or worse, that he planned to protect the village even after the bridge was complete.
Haku, ever composed, set a senbon needle down with a quiet clink. “Kakashi is not a man who lingers without reason. If he remains, it’s because he expects another attack.”
Zabuza clicked his tongue in irritation, leaning back against the table. This complicated things. A raid on a defenseless village was one thing. A direct battle against a former Anbu operative and his team? That required strategy.
For a moment, he considered his options. Then, slowly, his smirk returned—colder this time, calculated.
“Fine,” he muttered. “If the Copy Ninja wants to stick around, we’ll just have to kill him first.”