To live in a shadow wasn't too bad. He often wondered if there was anyone else like him. Someone longing for acceptance. Someone that needed to be needed by someone. He'd been cast aside once, long ago. It had been ten long years, years that he spent training, years that he spent learning. Just to be of use to someone that never looked twice. 'Your words cut deeper than your blade ever will. Why do I love you so?'
He asked himself often, why he felt for this man. This cruel man that bluntly twisted and used others for his own gain. And yet, Zabuza had kept Haku by his side, using him as he saw fit. The boy rarely spoke out of turn, rarely spoke at all. Zabuza often wondered if the boy was a prisoner of his own mind. He mindlessly obeyed Zabuza's every whim. Zabuza really had acquired the perfect weapon.
As the years had passed, the boy grew stronger. His hand to hand combat was insufficient, but his kekkei genkai, his genetic power, was something to be feared. Zabuza knew exactly who he was. Yuki Haku, the last known living member of the accursed Yuki Clan of the Water Country. Zabuza swelled with pride when watching Haku. He was graceful, yet deadly. He rarely showed his true colors, hid behind the painted white mask that Zabuza hated so much.
If Zabuza knew, would he be shunned? Abandoned yet again? He shifted, uncomfortable in the sitting position he'd been forced to endure during the meeting with the tycoon known as Gato. Really, the man talked too much, and Haku couldn't help but feel as though the small ogreish old man had an alterior motive for hiring Zabuza. But he didn't protest, he would be punished severely. He had learned over the years when and where to keep his mouth shut.
They were finally let go, Haku getting up and leaving the room. 'A prisoner of his mind.' Zabuza kept telling himself. Haku hadn't spoken since that morning, when Zabuza had chastised him for trying to protest working for Gato. He wondered now, more than ever, what the boy was thinking. Haku had never really voiced fear after the nightmares stopped when he was seven. 'How old is he now?' he wondered, shaking his head.
Haku didn't sleep that night. He wondered if Zabuza could tell he was on edge, the place was swarming with Gato's thugs. Haku had never been here before, the Land of Waves. The sounds were unsettling. Loud voices, weapons clattering. He hated it. He thought of all the lives he had taken, his hands soaked with the blood of his enemies. He shamefully wiped the tears away. He was human, after all. Regardless of how he'd been trained, his humanity overpowered anything he'd been taught.
He certainly hadn't been born a shinobi. He was far too kind for that. As Zabuza had said, he was probably the only shinobi with a heart as pure as fresh snow. He'd noted the occasional softness in both Zabuza's eyes and voice when he spoke to Haku. But there were never any reassuring words. No kind words. But he didn't care. His life was Zabuza's, and for Zabuza, he would live as dictated. He would live in a shadow.