Haku entered the hut, following his master. It was late and they were weary, after a long fight with a really strong ninja who was hired to assassinate them. The won, eventually, thanks to Haku's ability to improvise.

After each of this kind of battles, the ones where Haku impressed him the most with his cleverness and strength, Zabuza was watching the boy with newly found appreciation. Haku was getting stronger every day, Zabuza knew that. He also knew the boy would do anything for him. He was sitting in the big armchair, watching Haku change his clothes for what was left of the night. Zabuza looked at the young body, and couldn't believe how fast Haku was growing. It seemed to him as if only yesterday he took the boy off the streets and taught him to hold a kunai. He was fighting the urge to touch him; it never felt right to have this kind of thoughts about his protégé- even if he was only a tool to him.

Oh yes, Zabuza was holding on to this perception like a lifeline. He had no other choice. At first, he really believed it. It was what he was taught his entire life- a ninja is nothing but a tool. But it all started to change when Haku stared at him with his big sad eyes that night on the bridge when they first met. So he took the kid under his wing, trained him, fed him, and used his bloodline limit. It was only fair. But something fundamental began to crumble down within him.

Haku was a sweet boy. He smiled a lot around Zabuza, and nothing changed that. Not the hard training sessions, not the killing and not the cold nights they went through. As long as he was near his savior, Haku was happy. It was like that since the beginning of their relationship. Even on night like this one, when he was worn out and shaken from another person he had to kill, all he had to do was look at the man who was the center of his world to cheer up. Zabuza was sitting in his favorite chair, looking just as tired as Haku.

"Zabuza-sama, aren't you going to change your clothes?" he asked.

"In a minute." He answered.

Zabuza didn't move. Haku was beautiful, way too beautiful for a guy. Zabuza was fighting himself on a daily basis ever since Haku hit puberty. He found himself attracted to the boy in a very inappropriate way. He prayed Haku didn't notice, but he could see the glances the boy was sending him every now and then. Worried looks, as if something was wrong with him.

Something was wrong, he reminded himself. He felt disgusted with himself. Haku was innocent, angelic and pure.

No.

Haku was a tool. A ninja. He was a killing machine since birth. It was wrong of him to think of Haku as anything but that. But this thing that was crumbling within him, his source of power, was wasting away with every day he spent with the boy. His thoughts of Haku were becoming softer, almost loving. And it was wrong in every sense. Not only Zabuza was twice his age, he was well aware of the way Haku felt about him. He knew that if he ever acted upon his urges, Haku wouldn't object. He was willing to do anything, anything for Zabuza, and he couldn't think of exploiting Haku like that. Even if he made the boy kill at his commend.

But now the boy was standing in the moonlight, wearing a simple blue yukata. He was looking at him with his big brown eyes, worried. Zabuza grunted quietly and got up. He took off his blood splattered shirt and pants, and walked to the small wooden wardrobe, all the while being followed by a pair of brown eyes. He put on a black pair of pants and turned to face Haku.

"Zabuza-sama…the bandages…are all bloody." Haku walked towards him. He reached to the older man's face, undoing the bandages that concealed his master's face.

"There, now we can go to bed." Haku smiled at him.

"Not yet. Your hair."

"Ah?" Haku touched his hair. The long dark locks were still tightly wrapped in a bun. He must've forgotten to undo his hair because of Zabuza. The man pulled out the senbon that held Haku's hair confined. Long waves of silky hair fell down, framing the delicate features of Haku's face. It took Zabuza's breathe away in a way he'd never admit.

"Is everything ok?" the soft voice asked Zabuza.

"Yes, let's go to bed." He answered, loathing himself for his reaction to the elegant way Haku looked in the pale light that poured from the windows.

As they lay down under the warm blanket, Haku turned to his master, meaning to ask something, but no word came out.

"What, Haku?" Zabuza didn't turn towards the boy.

"No, I… I just wanted…" Haku blushed.

"What?"

"You're acting funny lately…" Haku blushed a little deeper.

"And?"

"I'm…I worry about that. Am I…disappointing you?" He looked down. Zabuza turned to face him.

"What? No! It has nothing to do with you."

"Is it because of that woman you were visiting last week?" Haku didn't look up.

"No. Go to sleep."

"I just want to be helpful…" Zabuza snapped. He was taunted by the pale skin, the big eyes that were staring right at him, through him…the long flowing hair around this beautiful face, and those lips…those full pink lips that haunted his dreams.

"You do?" He asked the boy.

"Of course." Came the obvious answer, which was muffled by a kiss.

Haku's eyes widened and then closed, kissing back. He yearned for it, for any kind of attention from the man. He felt as if his body was on fire, electricity running between him and his master. They kissed desperately, Zabuza never letting go, fearing what will follow the kiss he realized was inevitable from the beginning as he tasted the sweetness of Haku, passion surging through his body.

It was over eventually, with both of them gasping for air, a thin strand of saliva still connects them. Zabuza looked deep into Haku's eyes, lost in the emotions that surfaced so painfully in him. Haku's long lashes fluttered as he wrapped his arms around his master. Zabuza kissed him again, slowly and carefully, the raw passion changing into something tenderer, almost…love. They broke the kiss, and Zabuza lay back on his side, looking at the boy.

Haku didn't ask any questions, which was good because Zabuza didn't have any answers. He pulled his lover (it was strangely satisfying to call him that) onto his chest, holding him tight as they both drifted off to sleep.