Characters: Haku, Zabuza
Summary: The only comfort left at all is his voice.
Pairings: ZabuHaku
Author's Note: I believe in the theory that Haku is female, so she is female here, just as she is in all of my works where she makes an appearance. I'm sorry if it disappoints or offends you that I write Haku as transgender, but please don't think that your being upset gives you the right to flame. For those of you who think I have no reason to write Haku this way, see Out of Place. Oh and, as noted on the summary, this contains spoilers to 515 and 516.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
This doesn't look like anything Haku's ever seen before. The last thing she knew, she was on the forest bed in the afterlife, writhing as she was wrenched away from death. Now, dappled sunlight glows through the canopy of a new forest, one she knows she has never been in before.
Bewilderment strikes her, cold as the moment Haku first realized she couldn't move her limbs. Why have she and the others with her been called back? Whom are they to fight?
"Zabuza-san." She can't stop running forward through the gnarl of trees, but she can change her course slightly so she's near him; Haku's legs are stiff when she moves to the right and behave as though they're going to protest but don't stop her. She knows the other nin with them, men she's never met, will afford her and Zabuza privacy.
A moment passes before the older nin acknowledges her presence. His sharp eyes, previously staring straight ahead to spy out any advancing enemy, turn on her and squint. "Yeah, Haku?"
Haku blinks somewhat shyly, telling herself that the way her stomach is knotting itself is uncertainty at what's coming ahead, and not at the way his eyes burn into her cold, slightly marbled skin. "What's going to happen, when we meet up with another company of shinobi?"
The swordsman shrugs as though this doesn't concern him, but Haku can see his jaw tighten under the bindings, like shamisen strings wound too tight, and Haku is reminded irresistibly of a past abortive attempt to learn to play the shamisen, after Zabuza said he found the music soothing. "We fight," he responds shortly. "Don't see if there's anything else we can do." He's more angered because he's been dragged back from death as a living puppet than because he has to fight people.
His response provokes real fear in her. "That nin, from before," Haku finds herself whispering, "said we were summoned back to fight. I've heard of the jutsu he named, from a traveler we met once. But I've never heard of this jutsu being able to utilize the resurrected souls like puppets."
If this disturbs Zabuza at all, he is careful not to show it; he's always been good at sublimating his emotions. "I don't know of anything asides from the puppetry technique from Suna that can do that. But the wielder would have to be with us in order for that to work."
Very little comfort to Haku, who frowns, brow furrowing. "So what's happened to us to make this happen?"
"Dunno. I just know we're gonna have to fight some time soon, and that there's absolutely no use worrying about it. We can't do anything about this."
"We could fight," she suggests tentatively.
Zabuza snorts indelicately. "How exactly, Haku, do you propose we do that?" She wilts under his scathing tone and he softens, somewhat shamefaced. "If we find an avenue to fight this, we will, but until then, just suck it up and fight like you've always done." He reaches out and claps her shoulder gently. "No one's gonna blame you for this."
Haku knows that if there was any fresh blood in her body her cheeks would likely be tinged red, and is thankful, for the first time, that she isn't really flesh and blood. She nods slowly.
"I'll follow you, Zabuza-san," she says unnecessarily, with the old eagerness that died in Nami no Kuni. "Anywhere."
This doesn't seem to give him much confidence. Zabuza's hand, heavy as lead and somewhat clumsy thanks to the jutsu they labor under, finds her shoulder again, and stays there—for himself, he has heard Haku say this before, and knows exactly why she evinces such fierce devotion. It's always bothered him, a little bit.
"Damn… Let's just hope," he mutters gloomily, "Let's just hope that I haven't led you into Hell, again."
They continue on in silence.