What's Left of Me
When he was a child, his mother had told him a story once. It was about a tree that loved a boy and gave and gave until the tree had nothing left to give. The boy had given the tree nothing back in the end. He remembered that the story had made him sad.
"Why would the tree do that, Mother?" he had asked her, clinging to the softness and sweetness of her, "The boy left him alone and only came when he wanted something! That's awful!"
"Maybe you'll understand someday, my child," she smiled in return, kissing him lightly on the brow, "That kind of love most of us can only dream for. I hope it finds you."
"I don't understand, Mother," he looked up at her searchingly, "Why would I want something so awful?" His mother only smiled further and looked out the window, where his father was tilling the fields.
"A love you would give anything for," she laughed gently, and he felt her chest flutter against him. "Few are so lucky, Haku."
The plate crashed to the ground as his mother fell, her body jarring it free as she collapsed. Her warm eyes were still open and fixed upon his father, who stood completely still, tears streaming down his cheeks. The bat he wielded was clean--she had killed herself, drinking a poison that ate through her throat and left her coughing blood until the toxin had run its course and ended her misery. The story made Haku understand. His father had needed his mother's life, so she had given it to him.
His father turned to him, slowly, causing him to start and stumble back. The villagers behind his father were telling him to finish it, to destroy the child before he destroyed them. Haku's wide eyes followed the bat as it was raised, high above his father's head. He waited. His father hesitated, as though waiting as well. For a moment, his father turned to glanced at his mother's body. Haku swallowed, then drew in a sharp breath as the bat came down, whistling just past his head to the floor.
The dismayed and betrayed cries of the villagers were swiftly drowned out by the rumbling of the earth and the crackle of quickly forming ice. The last thing Haku remembered was the pride in his father's smile.
Words could not express the gladness in Haku's heart when Zabuza first came to him, asking for something only he could give. To be able to offer something to a world that had no place for him--it was its own breed of bliss. Zabuza lead, and Haku reverently followed. It was then that Haku began to understand why someone would give without expecting anything in return.
Over the years, Haku gave Zabuza everything he asked and more. He gave him his talents, his devotion, his love, gave until he had nothing that was his own. He gave up his dreams, his identity, even what morals he would have liked to keep. He gave Zabuza his gentle heart and allowed it to be hardened into one fit for a shinobi.
He gave until, one day, a single boy stole it all away. Defeated in battle, Haku was useless to his master. His talents fell short and his devotion meant nothing. Deeply shamed at his failure, he asked that his life be taken because he had once again become superfluous to the world.
The story came back to him and he remembered the end, where the tree had nothing to offer his boy but gave regardless. He remembered his mother, how she had wished him a love he would give anything for. Then, he felt a powerful charge of chakra behind him and knew his master still needed him, even if all he had to offer was all that was left of him.
Unto the end, Haku smiled.
Oh, the tree was happy
Oh, the tree was glad.
end