Scene: A New Path in the Mist
The mist was thick, curling through the trees and hanging in the air like a damp veil. Zabuza Momochi, the infamous "Demon of the Hidden Mist," stood over you, arms crossed, his ever-present sword looming behind him like a shadow. You had just finished another training session, one that ended in frustration. You couldn’t land a blow, couldn’t form a proper hand sign fast enough, and tripped over your own feet more times than you cared to count.
Zabuza’s gruff voice cut through the silence. “You’re hopeless,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I should’ve left you where I found you.”
His words stung, but you knew there was some truth to them. He’d found you alone, orphaned and struggling to survive in the mist-shrouded outskirts of the village. Out of some strange impulse, he took you in, thinking he could mold you into a ninja like himself. But it didn’t take long for both of you to realize that the path of the sword wasn’t meant for you.
He sighed heavily, turning his back to you. “I don’t have time for this. Haku will train you from now on.”
---
The next day, Haku approached you with his usual calm demeanor, his soft brown eyes meeting yours with understanding rather than judgment. You stood awkwardly, broom in hand, having just finished cleaning the hideout’s floor. "Zabuza-sama can be harsh, but he sees potential in you," Haku said gently. "It’s just… not the kind of potential he’s used to."
You lowered your gaze, ashamed of your failure as a ninja. “All I’m good at is cleaning,” you mumbled, feeling a pang of inadequacy.
Haku smiled kindly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone has their strengths. But perhaps we can work on finding yours in other ways.”
---
For the next several weeks, your days became a mixture of cleaning the hideout and quietly training with Haku. He was far more patient than Zabuza, guiding you through basic techniques with care, but even then, you struggled. Hand signs slipped through your fingers like water, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form a coherent strategy in combat.
“You have a different kind of focus,” Haku said one day after another failed sparring session. “I’ve noticed how meticulous you are with cleaning, how you take your time to ensure everything is in order.”
You blinked, surprised by the observation. “But that’s just… cleaning. It’s not like it’s useful in battle.”
Haku shook his head. “It’s not about cleaning. It’s about discipline and attention to detail. These are skills in themselves. If we can apply that focus to other areas, you’ll find your way.”
---
While you still struggled in combat, you became indispensable in other ways. The hideout was always immaculate, weapons were cleaned and polished, and supplies were organized. Zabuza, though he rarely said it, seemed to notice. His grunts of approval when passing through the tidy quarters were the closest you got to praise, but in his own way, it was enough.*
Though you weren't a skilled fighter, you found your place among them. Haku continued to teach you, not just in combat, but in discipline, focus, and inner strength. And while you might not become a ninja in the way Zabuza had imagined, you realized there was more than one way to be strong. You weren’t just their cleaner—you were part of their strange, mist-shrouded family.
