Wave had changed.
Five years ago, its streets had stank of rotting fish, of debt and fear. Now its ports rang with the clang of shipwrights' hammers and the chatter of merchants shouting bids for space on the crowded docks. The bridge was no longer just stone stretching toward the horizon—it was the artery of a reborn nation. Goods flowed in from Mist and Fire, out toward Tea and Lightning. Soldiers patrolled the markets not with thuggish cruelty but with measured discipline.
The Eclipse Order was no longer rumor. It was Wave's shield, Wave's voice, and Wave's fist.
The training grounds outside the city burned with heat that wasn't only the sun's. Rows of Eclipse recruits ran in weighted armor, sweat darkening their tunics, feet slapping packed earth in rhythm. They were men who had once been dockhands, fishermen, and even thieves. Now they moved like soldiers.
At the center stood Escanor.
Tall, golden-haired, broad-shouldered like a mountain given flesh. At noon his power radiated so thickly the air seemed to tremble. When he barked a command, men obeyed before realizing they had moved.
"Again!" he thundered, voice rolling across the yard. "Push until your lungs burst! If you collapse, you crawl! If you crawl, you drag your brother with you!"
A recruit stumbled. Escanor's shadow fell across him like the wrath of gods. The man looked up, eyes wide, and for a heartbeat seemed to face a lion about to strike. Then Escanor simply reached down, plucked him up by the scruff, and set him on his feet.
"You will not disgrace your spirit," Escanor said, not cruel but absolute. "Run."
The man ran.
Watching from a shaded porch, Ren folded his arms. His eyes lingered on Escanor's figure—unmatched in presence, every movement radiating pride that was both terrifying and inspiring.
Beside him, Gojo whistled. "Well, Boss, if this whole secret world-conquest plan fails, we could always rent him out as a motivational speaker. Imagine the sales pitch: 'Buy our fish or burn beneath the sun.'"
Ren's lips curved faintly. "The men respect him. Fear him too, maybe. But that fear pushes them past their limits."
"Fear's easy," Gojo said. "Respect's rare. He's got both. That's… not bad."
Ren's Sharingan spun once, quietly recording everything—the posture of the soldiers, the cracks in their formations, the way Escanor corrected them with nothing but presence. This was more than training. This was culture being forged.
When the sun sank, the man changed.
The Eclipse Order's tavern was loud with laughter, mugs clinking, the smell of roasted fish and seaweed stew filling the air. At the counter stood the same Escanor—yet not. His shoulders seemed smaller, his hands trembled faintly as he poured drinks. His eyes avoided the stares of the very soldiers who had quailed beneath him at noon.
"Here you are," he murmured, placing a mug gently before a recruit who looked twice his size. "Please, enjoy."
The man, sweating nervously, bowed low before taking it. "Th-thank you, Lord Escanor."
Escanor flinched at the title. "No, no, just Escanor. I— I'm only tending bar at night."
From a corner booth, Gojo leaned back with a grin. "This is priceless. Noon: 'Bow before my majesty!' Midnight: 'Oh dear, did I add too much foam?'"
Ren sipped his tea calmly. "Both sides are real. Both serve us."
Escanor overheard, cheeks reddening. "I… I only do what I can. The day demands strength, the night… humility."
Ren set his cup down, gaze steady. "Both matter. The men need to see strength that crushes their doubts. But they also need to see kindness that reminds them they're human."
Escanor blinked, then smiled shyly, as if Ren's words were more valuable than all the bows of the soldiers.
The Five years had not been wasted.
Ren's fire magic, born from Escanor's infusion, had grown into something uniquely his. Katon was no longer just flame from lungs—it was sculpted will. He could spin threads of fire into glowing chains that bound limbs without burning flesh unless he wished it. He could shape fire into seals that smothered enemy chakra, or barriers that swallowed incoming jutsu whole.
When he trained at night, his cursed energy hummed with flame until sparks danced between his fingers. Gojo called it "flashy," Zabuza called it "practical." Haku simply watched with calm eyes that hid admiration.
And his Sharingan had reached its full maturity—three tomoe in each eye. Every motion, every faint twitch of an opponent, unfolded before him like a book he had already read.
But Ren was not satisfied. Fire and eyes were tools. His true weapon was order.
Night settled. Eclipse's headquarters glowed with lamplight. Ren stood alone in the council chamber, a map of the Elemental Nations spread before him. Pins marked the Five Great Villages, each a knot of power. Wave, small but growing, sat at the center.
His hand brushed the seas between nations. Years ago, I watched this world from a screen. Now I'm rewriting its story. Naruto should be close to graduating soon. The Chūnin Exams… they will be the stage. Eclipse Order must be ready to walk into the heart of Konoha, not as shadows, but as equals.
Footsteps approached. Haku entered quietly, a scroll in his hand. "Ren-sama. The Mist daimyo has confirmed another trade route. They treat us as equal partners."
Ren's eyes narrowed in thought. "Good. Then it's time to prepare for the next step."
He tapped Konoha's mark on the map. "Haku, assemble a squad. You'll be Mist shinobi on paper. But in truth, you're our spy. When the Chūnin Exams begin, the world will see Wave's strength."
Haku bowed, voice steady. "As you command."
Ren looked back at the map, Sharingan gleaming faintly.