Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto in any way, shape or form. Naruto is the property of Masashi Kishimoto and Shonen Jump. Please don't sue me.

The shinobi of the Mist stood proud, almost in defiance of the night itself.

His tall frame and exposed chest made him an odd sight at the docks. The sailors were often quite powerfully built due to an arduous life at sea, his impressive frame stood out even among them. That alone wasn't why people avoided him. It was the way he seemed so still, almost corpse-like.

He waited with a hunter's patience. The people that passed him by cautiously made their way back to their homes. They were careful not to make eye contact with those around them, afraid of drawing even the most innocuous attention. He didn't acknowledge prey.

The air around him had a foul odor. It was the smell of unclean bodies, raw meat, diesel and the type of sweat that came with being worked beyond the point of exhaustion. As he slowly drew breath he could detect an undercurrent to the scent, one that he was all too familiar with. The scent of rank desperation.

The tension in the air could be slit with a kunai's edge yet for him it teased out a certain nostalgia. His village, back when the Mizukage still considered him loyal, had developed an atmosphere eerily similar to the one he found himself in now. The spectrum of smells that barraged him were quite different on the surface but if he went beneath the underneath, he found the undertone that left him almost wistful. These thoughts left him with a yearning for home best left buried but there was little to stop it from crawling out of it's grave in moments of self-reflection.

Reaching out with his senses, he found that his package had finally arrived. He let the body bump into him and allowed himself to be drawn out of his reverie.

"H-hey, sorry sir. I didn't mea-It was an accident, I swear."

Dark eyes looked down at the small boy with apathy. The boy dusted himself off but it made little difference. He had pinched cheeks and bags under his eyes. In short, he looked pathetic. The nin noticed the small parcel the scrawny child clutched tightly, as if it were a lifeline.

"I-I'm sorry, I think you dropped this."

The shinobi gave an almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgment and he took the proffered package. As the boy made to run off, the imposing man grabbed his arm. The boy looked up to his concealed face, terrified and then slightly relieved when he saw the coin that was being offered to him. The child stammered a 'thank you' and finally scurried away, as quick as his malnourished frame would allow.

This was what he had been waiting for.

He unwrapped the package, peeling each layer of paper back between a delicate thumb and forefinger. Inside, he found an earpiece attached to a receiver with a frequency already keyed in. He pressed it into his ear, waiting for the offer that he knew would be made. Minutes passed him by, but eventually the radio came to life with a crackle of static.

"Welcome to the Wave, Zabuza-san. I have a job that needs a certain... deft touch? Your services came with impeccable endorsement from my circle of...associates."

The voice sounded aged, but it was tinged with warmth, like an elderly man welcoming an old friend into his home.

Zabuza barely restrained the urge roll to his eyes, he had little patience for niceties."Your offer better be good, I rarely work for petty crooks who put on airs."

The voice tutted, almost as if disappointed. "You wound me, Zabuza-san. I am not a man who comes to a negotiation with nothing interesting to show for it and believe me, I have something for you that would be of great interest. Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

Zabuza raised his eyebrows, skeptical but intrigued. He had expected to haggle over his price to ensure that he got a deal worthy of his talents. Perhaps his supplicant might have something more interesting for him than he initially thought.

"Travel to the small farming community outside of the main city, the coordinates are written on the back of the earpiece. Contact me over the radio when you arrive."

The shinobi carefully studied the earpiece for the information and once memorized, he slipped into an alleyway. When he was under the cover of darkness, he infused chakra into his feet and climbed the building. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop with the grace and precision of a knife's edge. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he bypassed the city gates and made his way into the forest, curious of what he would find waiting for him.

At sunrise he found himself on a cliff-side that over looked what appeared to be a small collection of ramshackle cottages with farmland between them. He reported his arrival over the radio.

"Ah, yes. Zabuza-san, I think you are one of the few people I've met who will appreciate what I have for you here. These farmers have proven stubborn, unwilling to accept the offer protection I have given them, despite the sincerity with which I gave it. Free of charge, I have offered you a front seat for the show that I have on for tonight, watch carefully."

The radio cut off and Zabuza crouched low with a predator's calm. Beneath it, there was anticipation.

It didn't take long for the show to start.

In the distance he heard a sharp and loud report. Swiftly, he lept into a stance and his eyes scanned the horizon, trying to locate the direction of the blast. Then, in the sky, he found what he was looking for. A trail of smoke followed a just barely discernible capsule shaped object.

His eyes widened with surprise but instinct kicked in, his hands were already forming the seals needed for the Water Prison. He felt the rise of bile at the back of his throat, then the torrent of water gushed out of his mouth and enveloped him in a protective shell, ready to shield him from debris and the aftershock of the explosion. He saw the collision course the projectile was on, just before it reached its final destination.

The eruption of flame, smoke and ash was a brutal yet awe inspiring accompanying blast was enough to deafen him, leaving nothing but a high pitched ring that pierced his skull. Once the blinding light dissipated, he released the technique and gazed upon the aftermath.

There was nothing but the scorched shell of what once was a home. There was a dense, suffocating, grey smog that permeated the area. It billowed and filled the dawn tinged sky with ash. The sky itself seemed to burn with a blinding light. Something else drew his focus. He peered closely into the fiery ruins. In the broken and crumbling homes below him, he saw the charred remains of something that might have been human once but it's skin was flayed and cooked, the body mutilated beyond recognition.

Zabuza smiled. His grin was skewed and feral.

The display of power had impressed him. He recognized that Gatou might prove to be an interesting benefactor after all.