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Haku doesn’t quite remember his mother’s face anymore. He was young when she and her fear died, and while he remembers his father’s actions his looks were always rather forgetful, which can only help Haku in the long run.
The street is cold; the gutters are practically empty besides Haku, who feels no motivation to hide himself from the chill like the other homeless. He has nothing left to live for.
-*-
Zabuza is a Demon of the Mist, fearsome and proud of what he’s done. But even a demon needs someone to accompany them.
The child dying of frost and hunger doesn’t fight when he lifts it up, doesn’t struggle or kick when he places it by his fire and waits for it to thaw.
When the child (a boy, he realizes with some relief as he undresses and redresses them in warmer, dryer clothes) wakes from its “empty” state, and says quietly, “I am Haku.”
It doesn’t ever thank him for saving it.
-*-
When Haku was a very young child, his mother taught him something secret: his bloodlimit.
“They’re windows to your soul, Haku.” She said, standing inside the ring of her own ice windows. “They’ll show you who you’re meant to be with, if you ask them right.” He knew she’d never found who her mirrors had shown her; she’d fallen in love and married his father without telling him of her windows. And in the end, love had killed her.
He’d never tried to see who he was meant for. By the time he could safely manage it, she was dead and he had no one who would care to hear.
-*-
The kid works hard at becoming useful. Ever since he revealed that bloodlimit and how it could be useful to him, the child had exhausted himself trying to master his now-unique skill for his new master’s sake. Zabuza doesn’t complain. Having a tool that would give everything to him could be quite useful indeed.
-*-
They’ve been traveling together for a year now, and Haku has gained enough practice to attempt the Soul Mirror Technique. If he is going to live, he might as well see, though he’s certain that if Zabuza-san requested it of him he could kill them, whoever they were.
He waits until Zabuza-san is in the other room and hopes he doesn’t try to ask questions. Haku’s going to be severely drained after this and will barely be able to stand steadily, much less explain himself or the image he’s called up. And what if they met his match and Zabuza-san recognized him? What would he say?
Haku can’t lose Zabuza-san.
-*-
Zabuza is instantly aware of the way the boy’s chakra flares, indicating its use, and he’s standing still in the doorway of Haku’s room just as quickly. He doesn’t feel the need to stop the boy (if he was using his chakra then he felt it was necessary) and he simply wanted to watch. (The boy was beautiful when he did this.)
What he saw jolted him forward.
The boy had summoned his usual mirrors, but this time there was a woman, gaseous in form, curled around the edge of the central mirror. She was speaking gently to Haku, almost crooning. Zabuza’s tool was stony-faced and pale, staring straight into her mirror. But Zabuza stalked forward at the face reflected in the glass, because it wasn’t Haku’s.
It was Zabuza’s.
-*-
Haku’s knees were shaking with exertion and perhaps a little shock. His match was… Zabuza-san? What…? How… is this possible?
His mother is still praising him, telling him how proud she is of how strong his match is. He tunes her out, knowing she’s just an illusion of his mirrors, trying to show him what it thinks he wants.
He feels his exhaustion begin to leech out into his consciousness and the mirrors crumble to pieces at the strain. His knees buckle suddenly, dropping him to the ground, and arms wind around him, pulling him up and dragging him to the bed.
Panic seizes his already-foggy mind.
“Zabuza-san?” He mumbles, turning his face into the man’s shoulder.
“Sleep, boy.”
-*-
He wakes slowly, which is highly unusual. He must’ve been quite exhausted, and Zabuza can almost feel the concern welling up before he squashes it: Haku was doing something to those mirrors, something that required use of his image.
“Zabuza-san?” The boy asks, voice frozen. Zabuza realizes that he is staring maliciously at the teapot the hotel has generously placed in the room and stops. He turns to Haku.
“What were you doing? You collapsed.” Haku’s face whitens.
“It was a ritual,” he says, eyes staring into his palms on his lap, “a ritual like a Coming of Age ceremony for my clan. It is exhausting but not otherwise harmful.”
“You should have told me.” His voice is steel. Haku winces.
“It is… extremely private.” The boy is very quiet as he says this and Zabuza frowns.
“You are my tool, my weapon. Nothing is private.” Haku tenses and the words come gushing out of his mouth.
“It is where you see who was chosen to be yours for the rest of your life, the one who makes you stronger. Like a soulmate.”
-*-
Zabuza doesn’t say that he saw. Haku doesn’t either.
But they both know. And that’s just as good.
-*-