Chapter 1: Blood in the Water
The smell of blood had become part of the Mist.
It clung to the fog like a curse—thick, iron-scented, and ever-present. The training grounds, once a place of learning and promise, were now soaked with the echoes of children forced to kill or be killed. It was said this ritual made shinobi stronger. But for one child, it only planted a seed of quiet rebellion.
"Fight... or die." The instructor's voice was cold and emotionless as he dropped the white cloth.
A boy, twelve years old, stood at the center of the ring. He wore the headband of Kirigakure, though not by choice. His name: Kozan. He was tall for his age, with ash-black hair and pale blue eyes that almost seemed to glow in the mist. He had watched his classmates fall—some by their enemies' blades, some by their own hands. Now, it was his turn.
Across from him, a girl trembled, kunai in hand. Her eyes—wild with fear.
Kozan didn't move.
The crowd waited.
The girl lunged.
He sidestepped easily. The kunai missed by inches.
Kozan placed his hand on her shoulder gently… and whispered: "Fall."
His chakra pulsed like a wave. A genjutsu activated—simple, clean. The girl dropped, eyes wide, unconscious. It looked like he had killed her.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The proctor stepped forward, scowling. "This isn't a trick, boy. Finish her."
Kozan turned. His voice calm. "She's already dead to this system. That's enough for today."
The proctor's hand twitched toward his blade. But Kozan stared at him, cold and calculating. The boy's presence—something was off. The mist around him shimmered, as if it obeyed his mood.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension. "Stop."
A tall woman stepped from the shadows. Long auburn hair. Piercing eyes. The signature of a rising force in the Mist—Mei Terumī.
She looked at Kozan with a mix of curiosity and interest. "This one's mine."
The proctor stepped back without a word.
---
Later that night, Kozan sat before Mei in a silent chamber deep in the Mizukage's tower.
"You're bold," she said, sipping tea. "That will get you killed."
Kozan looked up. "Or save this village."
Mei smiled.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Kozan. Of no clan. Of no bloodline. Only purpose."
She leaned back, watching him. "Then let me give you one. How would you like to become my right hand? The Mist is changing, Kozan. I intend to end the bloodshed."
He said nothing at first… and then slowly bowed.
"Then I'll be your shadow in the fog."
---
He didn't sleep that night.
Instead, Kozan wandered the upper levels of the tower, looking out across the rooftops of Kirigakure. The moon shimmered in puddles left by the rain. The air was still, but something inside him was moving—an unease that never left.
He remembered the eyes of the girl he spared. Did she hate him? Thank him? Was she even alive?
He could've killed her. He should've, by village law.
But he didn't.
He wouldn't.
Kozan knew that if he wanted to fix the Mist, he couldn't follow its rules.
---
A whisper of wind passed behind him. He turned.
A boy in black, a mask half-shattered, stood watching from the rooftop edge. One of the silent watchers—the Hunter-nin Mei had placed nearby.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then the boy gave a short nod.
Respect. Or warning.
Kozan returned it, then turned his eyes back toward the village.
The Bloody Mist was still drowning children in silence.
But the fog had just welcomed a shadow of its own.
---