Like Snow
Haku was snow. The simple element that he had been born under described him in every sense. His heart was as pure as the virgin snow, and though Zabuza's footfalls had scored the previously seamless surface, he had made a path for which Haku could follow.
He melted like snow, against Zabuza's form though the man may as well have been made of ice himself. Zabuza remembered Haku's childhood fondly, though this he would never admit, when a gruff word that might have alluded to praise would have the small boy as a puddle at his feet.
Deceptive, as snow could be deceptive, Haku was both demure and deadly, soft and brutal. Alluring and seductive and yet at the same time possessing an unbelievable capacity for death. He was as beautiful as he was fatal.
Haku was warm in the way snow was warm. His tender nature was masked under his fierce actions of devotion, dusted over with the façade of the person he felt Zabuza wanted and needed him to be. In the most bitter of cold, his presence would embrace Zabuza and somehow, the air felt gentler upon his skin and warmth seeped from within. Only when there was no snow was winter truly cold.
Zabuza was cold as such now. His entire life had been trapped in winter and he had never known spring or summer, but perhaps his birth had been his fall, prelude to the cold he would know the rest of his life. The snow was gone, as though it had never been, and it was his own heart that was scored with the sudden loss of warmth.
He staggered, vision blurring as he tried to make his way to Haku's side. There was no one left to blame. Kakashi, who had delivered the fatal blow, had protected Haku's body from him and sealed the boy's sightless eyes in a gesture of kindness. The wretched man who had played this tragic scene into motion was dead at Zabuza's own hand. There was no one left to blame.
Only himself.
He, who had been unable to admit to himself or anyone else that Haku was not merely a tool to him. He, who Haku had loved despite all of his shortcomings and both lived for him and died for him. He could not have fathomed how much he had needed the snow to comfort him and shield him from the cold until it was gone.
Before him, the world slid out of focus and he saw Haku standing shyly, bathed in light. Had he use of his arms, he would have reached out. He fell. A single thought drifted through his rapidly fading consciousness.
'Did you know, Haku? That I-...'
Even now, even in his mind, he could not finish that thought, but his heart knew, knew that he hoped that Haku had also known this truth in his heart.
It began to snow.
He was taken to Haku's body, lain beside him. His own, useless body, which was slowly going numb felt at peace, as though he were freezing to death above all else. Perhaps he was. His ears were deafened by the muffled, tranquil silence familiar to being encased in snow. Though it was painful, he reached out to cup Haku's cheek.
The sun came out, bathing the angelic face that filled his visage with light. He wept, unable to put his regrets in words, only able to express that he hoped that he might see Haku again, on the other side. If not, it was... almost enough to die with him. It would have to be enough to die beside him.
His vision faded in degrees, his mind drifting to a faraway place where the pains of the world could no longer touch.
Zabuza dreamed.
He felt a hand upon his shoulder. Body feeling impossibly heavy, he struggled to open his eyes to see who was disturbing his quiet death.
At first, all he saw was a hand, turquoise nails glimmering in the brilliant light.
"Haku...?" he asked softly, gladly, with disbelief as he grasped that smooth, warm hand. Haku smiled.
"Let's go home."