A/N: Thank you so much for clicking on this story and giving it a chance! And a special thanks to Lazy Shika for Beta'ing.
This is an AU story with a flip-floping timeline between two character POV's, alternating between the post 3rd great shinobi war and post 4th great shinobi war.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Lesson 1: Finding a Good Master
HAKU
The cold always seemed to follow me.
Everywhere I went it trailed behind me. Occasionally closing the distance between us, its breath against my neck letting me know it was there. That it would always be with me.
I was four when I realized that the cold didn't seem to bother me the way it did others. Mother, Father and I lived in a secluded village up in the mountains. One particularly bad winter the snow had piled up to the windows putting pressure on the tiny one room house we lived in. Father had told me to go with him because we needed to clear the snow away from the chimney top so we could light the fire. It had taken father and I around 2 hours to clear the snowdrift from the top of the chimney and the roof.
Father caught pneumonia that winter.
I did not.
From that day forward the cold and I developed a sort of kinship, an understanding that one would not exist without the other.
…
The people in the village were nice enough but there was one cardinal rule everyone seemed to live by: don't draw attention to yourself. The civil war had torn the country apart, any suspicious people, anything strange lead to immediate and almost divine retribution. No trial. No jury. No judge.
What a strange boy.
His skin is always ice cold.
There's something wrong with that one.
The whispers seemed to follow me everywhere I went but I ignored them, kept my head down and minded my own business like mother had told me.
However, the whispers did not go away just from my ignoring them. Instead they grew louder until it was dull roar, forming its own entity that shouted me into a corner. It wasn't long until father forbade me from returning to the village.
From then on I never travelled outside of our property line. A prince of a small kingdom; and past the fields surrounding the kingdom's borders the rest of the world lay in ruin.
Behind the high stalks of corn at the corner of our fields were lawless mercenaries. Hired by the neighboring kingdom that wanted our bountiful lands. They lay in wait for the opportune moment to strike but unbeknownst to them these lands were protected by the most fearsome dragon.
With a wingspan that stretched farther than anyone could imagine the dragon flew over our lands keeping an eye on the border of the kingdom. With an almighty breath the dragon brought the cold air into his lungs where it transformed and passed through his scaly lips in one devastating breath. It froze the mercenaries and laid waste to the neighboring kingdom.
The dragon could pull the condensation out of the very air and hold it in his claw. He gave the cold a corporeal form letting it dance in front of him in beautiful ice crystals. He was a kind and good dragon who would protect the kingdom from outsiders.
However, the prince and the dragon failed to see that invaders had already infiltrated their kingdom. The king and queen had fallen victim to a foul bewitchment.
The king's eyes were wide and ravenous. His golden crown spattered and stained with blood. The queen lay crumpled at his feet, her eyes staring at the prince but not seeing.
"Mom...?"
"Dad…?"
The king roared. Like an enraged bull the king charged forward grasping at the princes throat aiming to end his family line and bring the kingdom to ruin.
The dragon flared its nostrils, taking a deep breath; the dragon stopped the king in his tracks with the tip of a beautiful snowflake.
Yet, despite the efforts of the prince and the dragon, the kingdom fell to ruin.
And the prince was lost.
…
My feet seemed to carry me forward without consulting my head. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to claim sovereign.
So I wound up where all lost things did, a part of the archipelago that made up the Village Hidden in the Mist this town was a famous stop for ninja's and merchants alike looking to blow off some steam.
The snow seeped into my shoes from the holes in the toe but I pressed forward walking down the street. Bobbing in between temporary couples and others like myself that had nowhere to go. This place seemed to collect people like me.
I stepped into a shaded alleyway rounding up on the dumpster behind a well visited izakaya. The restaurant almost always had somewhat edible food. I climbed inside not caring about the state my clothes might be in when I exited and began tearing open the black trash bags until I came upon a gold mine. A cold, almost completely intact pork bun, there were some spots of mold on the end but it was not anything I would concern myself with.
Treasure in hand I climbed out of the dumpster when a ferocious growling drew my attention. Snarling and nipping at my heels was a large dog. Its fur was matted in places where it had obviously gotten into a fight. Drool dripped down from its vicious teeth and formed a small puddle in the snow.
I clenched the bun tightly between my hands, wrapping my body around it protectively. I needed this food. I would die without this food.
The dog lunged at me aiming to sink its teeth into my leg when I planted a swift kick to the dog's side.
It let out a sharp whine and crumpled to the ground.
Just as I was about to turn my back, two pups came up beside the mother and nudged her still form.
The pork bun rotted in my hands becoming instantly inedible. I threw the bread to the ground at the mother's feet and walked off resigning myself to finding food elsewhere.
I settled down on a bridge across town and watched as the people walked in front of me. I had long since become invisible. Nothing more than a statistic swallowed up by civil war and violence, and for whatever reason that was okay with me.
The hard wood bit into my exposed skin as I curled into a tight ball, lying on my side. I pressed my face into the slats of the bridge watching the snowfall forming a soft blanket. Content to die here and be swallowed by the falling snow. The one constant in my life, that godfather that always enveloped me when I sought refuge and protection. I would open my arms to him now, the cold would return my embrace as it always had and I would find peace in the solitude.
The blood coagulating at the corner of my irritated nose dripped onto the snow-covered ground staining it red. My stomach lurched at feeling the emptiness. It was almost poetic, lying here dying of hunger even though my soul starved to death years ago.
My eyes started to droop, closing and opening slowly.
A shadow flickered across my vision stepping in front of the moon casting me in darkness.
A deep rumbling laugh came from the shadow, I tilted my head up to catch a glimpse but the light from the moon shining behind him obscured my vision.
"Pathetic little urchin," The deep voice said stepping forward towards me on the bridge. He crouched down to look me in the eye, casting less of a shadow and allowing me to see him.
He was wearing a shinobi uniform, I had seen them once or twice before. His hiate wrapped around his head pushing his hair up and to the side. Strapped to his back was a large sword, almost as tall as he was. Bandages formed a mask concealing most of his tan face except his eyes that bore into mine. Dark, beautiful eyes that held an air of superiority.
"No one wants you huh? Before winter ends you'll die with nothing, not even a dream." He said still crouched. The bandages tightened and relaxed across his mouth as he spoke.
His dark eyes settled into mine and I could not help but smile.
The man grunted, his eyes growing wide. He held my gaze not breaking eye contact.
I leaned forward desperate to move closer to the man so he could hear me. My voice wasn't strong anymore and I needed him to hear me.
"Your eyes are just like mine mister, we're both the same," I whispered. I leaned forward and put my small hands on either side of his face so I could fully appreciate the depths of his irises.
His soul too, had starved to death. I could see it all in his eyes. He lived to cause others pain and lost his soul on the journey. He said before winter ends I would die without a dream but after one look into his eyes, I knew I wasn't the only one.
He let me hold his face between my grubby hands for a few seconds before his larger hands enclosed around my smaller ones and ripped them off. His eyes narrowed as he stood up turning his back to me.
"Come with me and live to serve me or die alone on this bridge. I don't care which." The man scoffed walking towards the end of bridge.
I didn't hesitate for a moment. The strength I thought I had lost began to flood back into me. I would serve this man. I would be his strength. That was my purpose, to help him achieve his dreams.
I chased after him as fast as my slippered feet would carry me and fell in step behind him. Burdened with this new sense of purpose made me feel elated. If I dared, I would just slip my hand into his.
To my surprise, I felt his hand tighten around mine as he pulled me forward to walk at his pace.
"Zabuza." He said gruffly as a way of introduction, "and from now on, your name is Haku."
"Yes, Master Zabuza."
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