It was dim and it was damp as Haku moved bare-footed across the slums. He took his matted t-shirt off when he reached the river and rinsed the mud away. On the opposite side of the river sat a large, burly man. Haku's eyes widened slightly when he noticed the massive blade. Haku had heard rumors about this man – a missionary for hire. He would kill easily with the right motivation. Motivation for most usually translated to money or whores... but this man was different. He found motivation elsewhere.

The blade was soaked with blood. The man dampened a cloth in the polluted river and wiped the mess away. It didn't take much to know that blood belonged to a human.

Drip drop drip drop.

Haku watched the blood spill down the shiny blade before finally choosing to speak. "Zabuza Momochi," he said the name evenly, still staring at the man. He tried to portray confidence and eradicate his fear. It wasn't the time or the place to be afraid.

The man glanced up, staring across the river at Haku. He looked like the kind of man who would draw blood just for the sake of it. Haku couldn't help but wonder if that was true.

"That's your name, right?" he urged.

"Who wants to know?" Zabuza asked. His voice was rough and raspy, as if from lack of use.

"Me," Haku says simply, ringing out his wet t-shirt before putting it back on. The damp fabric clung to his skin, but he didn't mind the sensation. Without further hesitation, he stepped into the river and made his way across. Without fright, he stood in front of the man as he continued to wipe off his blade.

"You're not afraid," Zabuza noticed. It wasn't a question, but an unfamiliar observation.

Haku shook his head. "You kill people, right?" he asked somewhat desperately. "If I wanted..." he started anxiously, feeling his young heart palpitating. "If I gave you something... would you kill someone for me?"

"What's a kid like you got to give?" Zabuza scoffed at the offer.

"Nothing," Haku admitted reluctantly, but something about the way he carried himself made Zabuza harbour a strange sort of sympathy he's never felt before.

"Who is it?" he asked with a sigh.

"My parents," Haku answered. "I want you to kill my parents."

Zabuza stared at the child in front of him with masked shock. He stood up, slinging his blade over his shoulder. "I don't kill without reason," he said. "I'm not out to kill for stupid reasons, either. I don't need money. Money is pointless around here and nobody's got any either way. I don't need or want whores. The simply thrill of killing is enough for me, but to kill an innocent isn't rewarding. I found that out the hard way."

"How?" Haku pried and for a long time the man was silent. Haku was sure he overstepped his bound and was surprised when the man finally spoke again.

"I was in the military," he says. "I killed an entire clan of people who were said to be dangerous cultists. I went in with a team. It was genocide. We massacred children, elders, men and women. We were told not to discriminate. I never questioned my orders. I carried out the mission only to realize that what we had been told was all a lie. These people were not the dangerous ones."

And for days after that, all Zabuza could see was red. He learned then to question every man's word and every man's action.

"Are you sorry?" Haku asked.

Zabuza didn't dare respond. Instead, he changed the subject. "What crimes have you parents brought against you? Give me a good reason and I'll swing my blade."

Haku was silent for a moment. "My dad hurts me," he said vaguely, "and my mom lets him."

Zabuza paused for a moment, staring at the child. There were no bruises and he had to remind himself that not all painful experiences show on one's skin. "I see," he murmured. "Stay away tonight and I'll take care of it."

Haku nodded and turned away, continuing to walk down the riverbank.

||XxXx||

Those who harm children are the cruellest of all. It rubs Zabuza the wrong way. When he saw that faraway look in Haku's eyes and when he heard the quiet desperation in his voice, he knew what had to be done.

The kill was effortless and gratifying for Zabuza, though he only had to swing his blade once to take two lives. When the deed was done, he made his way back to the river to once again clean his blade. By the water, he found Haku.

"It's done," he said, sitting next to the newly orphaned child.

"Did you make it hurt?" Haku whispered the question.

"I took their heads," Zabuza revealed easily. "One swing and they were both on the floor. Death by beheading is said to be one of the most painful deaths of all. It is said to be excruciating, but you can't scream. That's why they always have such grim and twisted looks on their faces."

Haku smiled, looking like a weight had been lifted from his mind and his body. "Thank you."

"What will you do now?" Zabuza asked the small child.

"I don't know," Haku admits. "What will you do?"

"I don't know," the man echoes.

"It doesn't matter," Haku said offhandedly. "Nothing matters now. I'm free."

"Stay by my side," Zabuza requested. "If you do, no harm will come to you."

And Haku believed him. For years the two of them stood side by side and Haku watched as the man took life after life. He watched without regret, taking in each bloody mess with a studious gaze. He didn't find it wrong. Bad men and bad women deserved to be punished. They deserved to feel the pain they forced upon others. For Haku, this was rewarding. For Haku, this was redemption. For Haku, this was the most intimate form of bonding.

But that all changed when there was yet another raid. Typically he retreated to the forest with Zabuza, but one day he was late. That was his fatal mistake and, for once, Zabuza couldn't come to the rescue. Haku never blamed him, not once. From behind the brothel walls, he always knew no matter what Zabuza would keep looking for him. He always knew that one day they would be reunited once more.

In death, they both find peace. In death, they find one another.

If Zabuza could go back, he'd tell that young girl she was right. His sins were forgiven. He's with the one he loves. It's bright. He's free, he's happy and he's warm.