Haku is a sweetheart.

He's about ten here.

Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine. Surprise.


To Kill a Man

"Haku, kill him."

Haku abruptly sucked in his breath. He'd known that one day the command would come—and that after the first time it would come again, and again. He was Zabuza's weapon, after all, and what were weapons for if not for killing?

He'd known, but there is little he could have done to prepare himself for the daunting task of taking a human life.

Though he knew it was foolish to do so, Haku found himself looking into the eyes of his enemy. Some twenty-odd years older than Haku himself, the man had already been soundly defeated. He only needed to be finished off. That made sense.

But meeting the man's eyes, Haku did not see an enemy. He saw a human being who had his own dreams, a man whose eyes silently, hopelessly pleaded for mercy.

For the first time, and just for a moment, Haku wondered if perhaps what he was doing was wrong.

However, all these thoughts raced through Haku's mind in a matter of seconds, and he did not let them stop him. Though his eyes did not harden (and instead filled with crystal-shining tears); though his mouth did not set determinedly (and instead almost whispered "I'm sorry"); still his grip on his kunai tightened and Haku took his second human life.


Zabuza did not understand and would never understand the aversion to killing that people had. He had never suffered from such qualms, and he found that those who did, like the child sitting in front of them silently tending the fire, baffled him.

Haku had been silent, his demeanor strangely muted, all evening—ever since he had killed their target. His silence irritated Zabuza, and worried him as well.

"Haku…" he growled. The boy turned from his study of the flames to face his master, and as always Zabuza was nearly taken aback by his expression. Haku looked neither afraid nor guilty; if Zabuza had to define it, he would have said that Haku simply looked open to admonition.

"What happened today?" Zabuza asked him.

Haku demurely looked away. "I hesitated. I apologize."

"Will it happen again?" A hint of threat slipped into his voice.

"No," Haku answered at once, not looking back at Zabuza. "I will not hesitate next time." But there was a hint of distress on the boy's face.

Zabuza stared at him for a few seconds. "…Liar," he accused flatly.

Then Haku looked back and gave a self-conscious, apologetic chuckle. "You're right. …It's… not easy for me." He pressed his lips together, meeting Zabuza's eyes sincerely. "But if you are dissatisfied, then please have me kill again for you, and again, until I can perform to your satisfaction."

Zabuza smiled wryly. "That was my intention. From now own, the kill will always be your responsibility." Haku inclined his head with a smile of appreciation as Zabuza added, "Next time just don't look at them."

"…?"

"You looked at his eyes, didn't you?" Zabuza questioned roughly. "Don't do that. It's pointless."

Haku's face was carefully blank. "I see…"

"Once they've been defeated, they don't count as human anymore. In the battle for survival, we're the humans and they're the targets—the losers. You have to understand that."

Haku did not speak.

Zabuza's mouth tightened. "Do you understand?" he demanded softly.

"…Yes sir." Haku closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I understand."


Haku did understand. Zabuza's point was simple enough; it would be easier to kill someone who was inhuman, less than human. But still, if he had fully allowed himself to feel his reaction to Zabuza's advice, Haku would have found that the idea sickened him.

It was not long before he found that anyway.

The next kill came only a few days later. It was an assassination, and their client was quiet wealthy. They would be paid well.

As instructed, this time Haku did not look at the target, did not allow himself to think anything about the man—not the man, the target, the enemy—in front of him before peppering his throat with senbon.

As Zabuza had implied it would be, the kill was remarkably easier.

But that night, when he slept, Haku dreamt. He was back at the battle that morning, the unnatural mist still heavy on the field, and once again he stood before the target. The enemy was already spread across the ground. Only the final blow was needed.

Haku prepared to strike, but as he did, the target lifted his head so that Haku could see his face.

Instead of eyes, the man had black, empty sockets.

Haku screamed loudly enough to shock himself awake. He found that Zabuza had woken as well, and already had a weapon in his hand, scanning the area. Then his eyes set on Haku, questioningly.

Haku felt a faint blush come to his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered sheepishly. "Bad dream."

Zabuza guessed easily enough what the dream had been about. "Haku…" he growled warningly.

"It's fine. I'll be fine. Please don't worry yourself, Zabuza-san."

But Zabuza would be heard. "Haku, if you can't kill for me, I have no use for you," he told Haku, glaring.

"I know that, sir," Haku answered calmly as he gazed back. "This, too, is no more than a skill with which I must familiarize myself."

Zabuza grunted and leaned against his sword. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

Haku gave a long sigh. He wasn't sure he liked talking about murder in that way; but that hardly mattered, because it was true, and he didn't have a choice. And he would get used to it, eventually.

In any case, though, he could not kill the way he had that morning. Haku remembered the skull-like eye sockets of the man in his dream and shuddered. He had had no soul. Haku had taken away his soul by treating him as a mere target to kill.

Stealing lives was one thing, but it seemed that stealing away a person's humanity was quite a different matter.

Haku laid on the ground, restless, for a few minutes. Once it became clear that he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep, he got up. There was something he could do. He had already eliminated the corpse, of course, as was his training, but he went back to the battlefield with two straight branches and some twine.

He made a shrine for his victim.

He kneeled in front of it and tried to pay his respects, but he wasn't sure how he could—so he simply sat there for a minute, head bowed and eyes closed. Then he went back to Zabuza and fell into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning, as they were leaving, they passed Haku's shrine. Zabuza stopped and stared at it for a moment, then sent a narrow glare in Haku's direction.

Haku sent an apologetic, smiling shrug back at him.


The kills became easier each time, though Haku never again treated his opponent as sub-human. Every time, he made sure to look at his opponent's eyes and let himself realize his or her humanity.

And every time, he made a shrine afterwards.

If Zabuza disliked the practice, he didn't show it. He only expressed disapproval for the idea once, in a brief conversation as Haku kneeled at the third shrine.

"You're a fool, Haku," Zabuza told him with scornful affection.

Haku smiled sadly. "I know, sir."