System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 216: Chapter 215: Gazebo

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The forests of the Land of Wave were a world of deep greens and muted greys, a place where the air was perpetually damp and the ground soft with a carpet of moss and fallen leaves. Alaric walked with an easy, unhurried stride, his crimson coat was a stark, almost violent, splash of color against the tranquil landscape.

The path they followed wasn’t a true road, but a barely-there trail used by hunters and perhaps, those who wished to remain unseen.

Behind him, Zabuza Momochi and Haku followed in silence. A few meters to their left, the gentle murmur of a small, clear river provided a constant, soothing soundtrack to their journey.

Alaric stopped, his gaze sweeping over a small clearing just ahead, where the river widened slightly and a collection of large, moss-covered stones formed a natural, defensible perimeter.

’I wonder how much money Gato has,’ he mused, a familiar, almost instinctive calculation running through his mind. ’I mean... he’s a businessman and all... would he be richer than leaders of hidden villages?’

”Let’s stop here for now,” Alaric stated, his voice cutting through the quiet. He turned, looking back at his two temporary companions.

Their dynamic had shifted in the hours since he left the Konoha team. Alaric, the client, had effortlessly become the pseudo-leader. It wasn’t something he had demanded; it was a simple, undeniable fact of their new reality. The three hundred thousand Ryo he had counted out and handed to Zabuza back in the hideout, the full payment for the mission against Tazuna, had been a powerful motivator.

It was more money than Zabuza had likely seen in one place since his defection from Kirigakure. With the payment secured, their contract with Gatō was not just nullified; it was a forgotten memory, a bad business deal they were more than happy to walk away from. Their new contract, unwritten but implicitly understood, was with the man who had paid them for a job they no longer had to do.

”You wanna camp here?” Zabuza asked, his sharp, analytical gaze sweeping over the clearing. It was a good spot. The river provided water, the rocks offered cover, and the surrounding trees gave them a vantage point. He nodded in grudging approval.

Alaric simply smiled in return and nodded his head. He walked to the center of the clearing, near the riverbank, and with a casualness that was utterly at odds with the act he was about to perform, he snapped his fingers.

The ground groaned.

Zabuza’s hand flew to the hilt of his Kubikiribōchō, his body instantly coiling into a combat stance. Haku, who had been observing the river, spun around, senbon appearing between his fingers. They stared, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and profound disbelief.

From the very earth at Alaric’s feet, wood erupted. It wasn’t a chaotic explosion of splinters; it was a controlled, impossible act of creation. Thick timbers twisted and wove themselves together, forming a perfectly flat, circular platform. Four sturdy pillars rose from the corners, supporting a simple but elegant roof. Chairs, carved from the same living wood, grew from the platform’s surface. And in small, built-in planters along the edge, vibrant, unfamiliar flowers bloomed in an instant, their colors were a startling splash of life in the green-and-grey forest.

In the span of ten seconds, a magnificent, open-air gazebo stood where there had been only empty ground.

Not minding their stunned expressions, Alaric looked at the collection of dry firewood that had also sprouted from the ground in a neat pile near the gazebo. He willed a tiny spark of fire into existence on the tip of his index finger, and with a casual flick, sent it arcing through the air. It landed on the wood, which instantly burst into a warm, crackling campfire.

He then turned, looking at the two shinobi who were still frozen, their weapons half-drawn, their minds clearly struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

”You guys can catch fishes, right?” Alaric asked, his tone as casual as if he had just asked for the time.

”...”

”...”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of shattered assumptions. Zabuza and Haku stared at the gazebo, then at the fire, then back at the towering, crimson-coated man who was now casually stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just performed a jutsu that was, by all rights, impossible.

This was the Mokuton. The Wood Release. A legendary Kekkei Genkai, a power that was supposed to have died with the Shodaime Hokage. And this man, this ”Alaric,” had just used it to build a piece of luxury furniture in the middle of a swamp.

They had a thousand questions, a thousand suspicions, but they kept them locked away. In their world, a world of secrets and shadows, you did not question a man who could command the very earth and fire with a snap of his fingers. You simply... adapted.

Minutes passed. The initial shock had given way to a strange, almost surreal, sense of normalcy.

Zabuza, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, a man feared across the continent, found himself thigh-deep in the cold river, his massive executioner’s blade being used as a very inefficient fishing spear. Haku, with far more grace and precision, was using his own ice needles to skewer fish from the bank.

Alaric sat comfortably in one of the freshly made wooden chairs, watching their efforts with an amused smirk, a lit cigar now perched between his lips. It was a profoundly absurd scene.

Finally, with a collection of surprisingly plump river fish, they sat around the crackling campfire, each holding a sharpened stick, the fish skewered and roasting over the flames.

”Haku, right?” Alaric asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he prodded his fish, checking if it was cooked.

Both Zabuza and Haku looked up from their own cooking. Haku nodded politely. ”Yes, why?”

The blonde Kenway hummed, his gaze analytical as he looked Haku up and down. ”You look like a girl,” he stated bluntly, ”are you a femboy?”

”...Femboy?” Haku’s eyebrow rose in confusion at the unfamiliar term, but he grasped the meaning easily enough. ”A female that’s a boy?” He shook his head, a faint, almost sad smile touching his lips. ”I can’t do anything about my face. I got it from my... mother...”

At the mention of his mother, Haku’s expression clouded over, a flicker of deep pain passing through his eyes before he quickly masked it.

Alaric saw it, and his own internal amusement vanished, replaced by a sheepish regret. ’Oh yeah,’ he thought, the memory of Haku’s tragic backstory from the anime flooding his mind. ’He has a trauma of his parents. I forgot about that part. Damn... what an ice-breaker.’

”...”

”...”

The silence that followed was awkward, heavy. Zabuza shot Alaric a sharp, warning glare, but broke it as he remembered how powerful the guy was. He cleared his throat, deliberately changing the subject.

”...You say your name is Alaric, no?” Zabuza called out, his gruff voice a welcome break in the tension. ”Who are you?”

Alaric turned his head towards Zabuza, his earlier awkwardness replaced by a familiar, challenging smirk. ”What do you mean?”

”I’m pretty proficient in the Bingo books, very up-to-date with it,” the missing-nin explained, his gaze intense. ”Never heard of you before... one with abilities like yours are bound to be mentioned in the books.”

”Hmmm...” Alaric looked down at his fish, which was now perfectly cooked, its skin crispy and golden. He took a large bite, the rich, smoky flavor exploding in his mouth. ”Ah, this is delicious!”

”...” Zabuza stared, a vein throbbing in his temple. The man was deliberately avoiding the question. ”Tch.”

”Relax, it’s a joke,” Alaric chuckled, taking one more bite before setting the fish aside. ”Since I’m your client, let me introduce myself.” He leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting dancing shadows on his handsome features.

”My name’s Alaric Jonathan Kenway, I’m just your normal traveler,” he continued. ”I’m not from around here or there. I have a wife and a kid.”

”Oh?” Both Zabuza and Haku’s eyes widened slightly, the last part of his introduction a genuine surprise. A man this powerful, this mysterious, was a family man? It didn’t fit the image of a wandering shinobi. Zabuza was about to press for more, but something in Alaric’s calm, steady gaze told him it would be pointless.

”What about you guys?” Alaric smiled, picking up his fish again. ”Lemme know something about each of you.”

Zabuza and Haku exchanged a look. After a moment, the older shinobi let out a long, resigned sigh. ”...Fine,” Zabuza muttered, shifting his own fish closer to the flames. ”Name’s Momochi Zabuza. Used to be a shinobi of Kirigakure until things... didn’t work out.”

Alaric’s brows rose in amusement. ”Didn’t work out, huh? That’s one way of putting it.”

”Tch. Don’t pry,” Zabuza growled, his sharp eyes narrowing before he took a savage bite of his fish. ”I’m a mercenary now. You pay me, I swing my blade, end of story.”

”And him?” Alaric turned his gaze toward the younger shinobi.

Haku smiled faintly, the earlier sadness gone from his eyes, replaced by a quiet, unwavering devotion. ”My name is Haku. I... serve Zabuza-sama.”

”Serve?” Alaric tilted his head.

”Wherever he goes, I go,” Haku explained, his voice calm but carrying a profound weight. ”He gave me a purpose, so my life belongs to him.”

The blonde hummed, poking at the remains of his cooked fish with a thoughtful look. ”So you’re his right hand, huh? More like family than servant.”

Haku’s lips twitched, almost a smile, while Zabuza let out a low grunt from his throat but said nothing, his attention fixed on his meal.

”Interesting pair,” Alaric muttered with a smirk, before taking another bite.

---

Hours passed. The fire had died down to glowing embers, and the moon was high in the sky. Zabuza and Haku slept in the strange, magically-conjured gazebo, their breathing deep and even.

Alaric had healed Zabuza’s internal injuries with a subtle application of the Healing Palm Jutsu while they ate, but the chakra deviation from the ”bonk” and the lingering exhaustion from the fight with Kakashi meant the missing-nin still needed rest. Haku, too, was spent, the physical and emotional toll of the past days finally catching up to him.

Alaric, however, felt no need for sleep. He stood at the edge of the forest, looking out at the distant, flickering lights that marked Gatō’s coastal mansion. ”Damn, that’s a big mansion,” he whistled softly, the structure looking even more imposing in the darkness. It wasn’t as grand as Kenway Keep, but for a man like Gatō, a simple, greedy businessman, it was a statement of obscene wealth and power.

Zabuza stirred from his sleep within the gazebo. He sat up, his movements silent, and walked to the edge of the clearing, coming to stand beside Alaric. ”Yeah,” he agreed, his voice a low grumble. ”From all my years in roaming this continent, I’ve yet to see one that’s bigger than that.”

Alaric turned his head, a smirk playing on his lips. ”Then you’ve yet to see mine.”

”Huh?”

”Come on, let’s go,” Alaric commanded, already walking towards the distant mansion.

Zabuza and a now-awake Haku followed silently, but the older shinobi’s brow was furrowed in confusion. ’Why’s he walking like he’s been here... I should be the one guiding him... ah I don’t know anymore.’ He shook his head, a familiar sense of weary resignation settling over him. When it came to this man, Zabuza felt that it was better not to ask questions.

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