Note: Whoa, an update.

Suigetsu was 116 centimeters tall, mostly skin and ribs. His elder brother had bundled him in thick clothes that were a bit large for his frame, and then asked him to take a walk in the snow outside of the house. Mangetsu wanted to be sure he could actually move in the stiff snowsuit.

He did. He toddled around and complained from beneath a heavy scarf.

"It's too hot."

"Are you sweating?" Mangetsu asked.

"No."

"Then it's fine. You need to keep your water." His brother dismissed it, "And if you freeze you'll freeze solid, little brother. It's better that you're warm."

Their father was unconscious in his bedroom when they had finally packed and left the house. Shon had advised them to make a break for it before Mist shinobi sniffed out their shack on the heaths. No goodbye was necessary. The man had screamed at them the night before and that, Mangetsu surmised, would have to suffice.

And so it began under slate skies, completely carpeted with clouds, a long journey in the biting cold. Winter sat on the Water Country like an old woman on a bench; thin, white, and refusing to budge. The harsh weather was going to test them, Mangetsu knew.

For a while, Suigetsu marched a few steps ahead of him on the path. His boots crunched in the thin layer of snow. Eventually, their house was out of sight on the moorland. Later still, they had reached the rolling hills beyond that Suigetsu had never seen before. Doubt entered the small boy's heart. He whimpered, realizing home was behind them and would stay behind them. It was a tall and hideous feeling for him.

Suigetsu reached a mitten'd hand and held on to his brother's coat, sniffling.

Mangetsu was silent for a while as his brother cried. He never knew what exactly was best for Suigetsu, even though he was desperately searching for it. Taking him away from the warm security of home was going to sting, but would it hurt worse than staying with an abusive parent? 'Please try to believe we can do better, little guy.' There was no future back there.

Likewise, he had tried to help the Seven Swords stay together in vain, advocating for their solidarity when the Mizukage denounced the organization. It stood in almost symbolic opposition to the village leader, but that could be changed. Mangetsu would bend and contort their image into civil servants, if that's what officials wanted.

When negotiations failed and his comrades were told to obey or die, many obeyed and took what they could get. They were no fools. Mangetsu watched the swordsmen, his friends, scatter to the winds in silent defeat. Though he was called "leader" once, he hardly felt he deserved the title. He had been utterly incapable of helping them. But Mangetsu would be damned if he failed his own brother.

"S-Sorry." Suigetsu slurred, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"What? What's the matter?"

"I-I know I…shouldn't cry…"

"Suigetsu, I'll never tell you not to cry. If that's what's rumbling around in your chest and you need to let it out, you let it out! I do."

"But D-Dad always s-said that tears…are j-just wasting our water. We break our bodies up f-for no reason…"

"He's an idiot." Mangetsu declared, "Don't believe that. It's a minimal loss, if at all. He's a hypocrite who tells you that and then drinks until every cell in his body dries up. The only thing you should 'never' do is be an alcoholic. Crying is fine." He added as an afterthought, "And that pretty much goes for everyone…not just Hozuki."

"Okay." The small boy hiccuped.

After a while, Suigetsu's energy began to fade. His feet were chilled in his boots, his nose was running, and his head hung lethargically as the pom-pom of his hat swayed with each step. Mangetsu adjusted his duffle bag at his side before scooping up his brother, pulling him onto his back.

"Hold on to me. We need to make up some time if we're going to make it to a town before sunset." He darted off over the snow and his brother held fast.

Suigetsu marveled at the speed of a shinobi. His first experience with moving so fast was not on his own two legs, but some day it would be, he told himself. The wind sheered past his face. He yanked up his scarf a little higher to fight the chill.

They later arrived in a municipality that was annexed by the Hidden Mist Village. As far away as the settlement was, many people chose to make their homes in the quaint valley if they could afford it.

The snow was fresher here. "It must have just fallen." Mangetsu supposed.

He set down Suigetsu so he could walk down the main avenue that was lined with snow-capped cabins, cozy woodworked signs, and banners waving. It felt like the war was absent here. Children were even playing outside.

Enticed, Suigetsu tottered ahead down the snowy lane and asked if he could join the snowball fight. He was quickly accepted by the scampering, bundled-up children. Mangetsu made no objections and let his brother play wildly, beaming other kids in the back with clumps of snow.

While keeping an eye on his brother, Mangetsu lurked at the edge of an alleyway to check the Master Scroll. He did so periodically to keep track of which swords were still at his disposal. He also did it to determine which swordsmen were "selfish, unhelpful bastards" when they kept the blades on their persons.

The parchment revealed that Kabutowari, Hiramekarei, and Shibuki were currently stored in the Master Scroll. All the rest were unavailable.

"Come on you greedy pricks…" Mangetsu muttered, "I'm dying out here! Most of you are safe and sound…"

Not that this circumstance really surprised him. Truthfully, he would be far more shocked if there were four or more swords available. 'I can do the math. I count four major assholes.' Chiefest among them would be Zabuza, then Raiga. Kamisori and Kisame were milder assholes. Mangetsu nodded to himself as he wound up the scroll. Shon and Higashikuni were rather generous, all considered, as unlikely as that seemed. They understood Mangetsu's plight and tried to provide for him when they could.

'And I'll repay them for that, when I can…'

Mangetsu stepped out onto the avenue and watched Suigetsu play for a while, chuckling to himself. After several children returned home, Mangetsu led his bopping, white-haired brother to the tavern on the corner. A hostess welcomed them inside and led them towards seating at a kotatsu.

Suigetsu listened as his brother muttered to him, "Try not to talk. Or show your teeth…" The small boy nodded as they removed their boots politely.

Mangetsu had mentioned on occasion that their sharp teeth could alarm people. Many shinobi clans in Mist sported shark-like chompers, but the valley-folk tended to overreact to such features these days. Even a hitai-ate could spook them.

On a cold winter's day Mangetsu would have liked to have ordered a hotpot meal, but he was down to the last bit of money he had scraped together since being blacklisted. He settled for hot nishin soba and a pot of tea. 'We need to eat on the cheap.' Of course, he was none too pleased to see that Suigetsu's bowl arrived with the saddest excuse for a herring fillet he'd ever seen. Mangetsu added an extra piece of fish to his brother's bowl and told Suigetsu to shush when he questioned it. Sometimes cheap really meant cheap.

The comfort of a warm table and a blanket over their laps helped them forget their troubles for a while. Suigetsu began to quietly mock an obese customer at the far end of the dining room. Mangetsu snickered at his antics.

"Big bro, are we, like, going to practice ninja skills or what?" The boy whispered through a cupped hand, "You said you'd teach me."

"I said I was going to teach you to survive first, fight second." Mangetsu corrected.

"Are you sure?" The boy whined.

"If you die, what good are you in a fight?"

"I won't die. I'll just splash into a puddle like always." His smile revealed a pointed tooth and Mangetsu tapped the boy's lips with chopsticks as a reminder. Suigetsu pursed his mouth quickly.

"Not always." His brother cautioned. He swirled buckwheat noodles around his bowl before noisily slurping them up.

Suigetsu rested his arm on the table and balanced his chin on the palm of his hand. His sigh carried a hint of annoyance. Mangetsu felt it was prudent to explain it to him.

"You know human bodies are made mostly of water." Mangetsu poured more tea into a cup, "Intracellular. Extracellular. Plasma. It's a lot. Between 50 and 65 percent, give or take."

"In-tra…sella..ler." Suigetsu repeated feebly, scrunching his eyes.

"You probably heard about it on Dad's science programs on the radio. Or when he'd hit you, you could make your body liquid. Hozuki have about 79 to 83 percent water content, depending on the day. We can do amazing things." His big brother winked an eye at him, "We can change shape. We can make things hurt less. We can be ridiculously strong or we can trickle away and hide." He poked Suigetsu's cheek with his pinky finger, "You're a little water balloon, kiddo."

"Hey!" He batted Mangetsu's hand away.

"The same things that make us strong are also what can make us weak." Mangetsu warned, "You've seen ice cubes in Dad's drinking glass, right?"

"Yeah."

"That could be you. If you're out too long in the cold, or if a jutsu hurts you…" He explained, "We freeze faster than normal people. We're super-conductors too. Electricity fried our cousin, years back. You know he didn't survive. Basically, anything that can be done to a cup of water can be done to us." Mangetsu clacked his empty tea cup down.

"Electricity is like lightning, right?"

"Right. It's very bad. Stay away from it." He said as his brother nodded fervently.

"So tell me…do you want to learn how to fight first?" Mangetsu tilted his head to gaze at the small boy, "Or do you want to know how our Hydrification works?"

Suigetsu fidgeted under the blanket of the kotatsu, "Okay, I get it…"

"Good."

Mangetsu paid for their meal and then they were off again. By late afternoon they had trekked to the far side of the valley, and signs of civilization were few and far between. The sun was sinking in the sky a bit too rapidly for Mangetsu's taste. Suigetsu's slow trudge was not letting them cover a lot of ground.

The snow drifts were also getting deeper. Mangetsu had to lift his little brother up when he had been swallowed from the waist down in snow, "Whoa!"

Suigetsu was pulled onto his brother's back again. Mangetsu used chakra to move across the snow's surface. The little boy wrapped his arms around his brother's shoulders and asked, "Are we going to have to sleep outside?"

"I don't think so. It'd be horrible, if we had to."

"Where are we going again?"

"The Loft."

"That's where your friends are."

"Yeah."

Suigetsu patted his mittens on his brother's ears, wondering, "Can we get there before nighttime?"

"No way, kid. It's too far." Mangetsu stopped and looked to his right.

A flock of red-crowned cranes had gathered on the vast, white field. They were hopping around on their stilt-legs, dancing for mates.

"Ah, that's a sight I really needed." Mangetsu pointed out the large birds to Suigetsu, "Cranes are good luck and a symbol of longevity."

"They're big."

"Maybe to you, they are."

"How can they fly?"

"Beats me."

"Hey, what's…long…jev…itee?"

"Longevity. It means long life. It's a sign that we probably won't die tonight." Mangetsu chuckled, "Maybe we even get to grow old someday."

"Pff." Suigetsu said from behind his scarf.

They began to lose the light. Just before Mangetsu was about to accept their misfortune, he spied a triangular rooftop in the distance. He held tight to Suigetsu, secure on his back, and hurried, running over the long empty fields of an old farm. As they drew close they found that the farmer's residence was silent with no light in the windows. The gardens were stripped bare. The property's fences were intact but drooping under heavy snow.

"Look at that roof. It's sloped so that snow slides off." Mangetsu gestured to the Gassho-style farmhouse, "I don't think anyone has been here in a while."

"Don't go in!" Suigetsu whispered, his grip tightening on his brother's shoulders.

"Why not?"

"It's dark. There's probably animals and scary stuff in there."

"Then I'll beat 'em up." Mangetsu replied.

Mangetsu followed a stone walkway through a gate, and at the front door of the house he set Suigetsu down. He peered up at the wearing, straw-thatched roof of the building. 'I've seen houses in worse shape…' He knocked once and then pushed open the unlocked door.

"Evening!" Mangetsu said conversationally, calling into the empty living space, "Anyone home?" He stepped inside and Suigetsu reluctantly followed him.

From what he could see in the dimness, it appeared that the former residents had up and moved. Furniture was disheveled and many household staples had been removed. Some items remained, like the hearth-hook above the square irori. An old kettle still hung from the hook. The dark wood of the raised floor was garnished with dust.

"Keep your boots on. It's going to be cold in here until I get a fire going." Mangetsu advised his brother.

"Are you sure no one is here?"

"Pretty sure. I'll take a look around and check the second floor. See if you can find us things we can use."

They nodded in unison and then parted, starting to search in different directions. Suigetsu set down his small travel bag and began rummaging around. He found a few zabuton to make sitting on the floor more comfortable. He found the remaining contents of the tea chest held a single bowl and cup, and both were chipped. An old ladle, a broken vase, an old family scroll. Not much of anything leftover was useful.

Mangetsu returned from his top floor survey with thick quilts and sleeping mats. He set them down beside the stone trimming of the sunken hearth. It felt like sacrilege for Suigetsu to walk over tatami mats with shoes on, but Mangetsu waved off his concerns, "Relax. This place is abandoned. These mats weren't well cared for anyway."

The former swordsman leaned over to add kindling and fuel to the fire pit of the irori. Suigetsu watched in fascination as his brother struck a kunai to flint, igniting a frayed piece of cotton. Soon the kindling and old parchment in the pit were alight. Mangetsu then tossed a heavy blanket onto his brother. Suigetsu stuck his head out from under it and laughed.

"We were lucky tonight." Mangetsu observed, "I didn't think we'd find a single thing in here we could use."

"Well there's nothing to eat or drink." Suigetsu pointed out, yawning.

"We'll take care of that tomorrow."

They watched the fire grow, and over time Mangetsu added flammable materials to it, prodding it with an iron poker. Suigetsu arranged the mats and blankets near the hearth. He burrowed beneath a quilt and kept his face free, watching his brother's expression that was shadowed by trembling firelight.

Mangetsu was thinking deeply. When he was like this he often sat stock-still, and Suigetsu would watch the rise and fall of his brother's chest to confirm he was alive.

"How much further do we have to go?" Suigetsu asked.

After a long moment of silence Mangetsu spoke, "Can't be sure. Bad weather and ninja might slow us down. We're a week away by foot, if nothing happens."

"Aw man."

"Something will probably happen." Mangetsu added.

"Won't any of your friends come find us and help us? Like the one who came to our house."

"Shon was only there to give me a warning. They all have their own problems, I'm sure." Mangetsu surmised, "And, quite frankly, we don't need their help. You're traveling with me, kiddo. The greatest swordsman there ever was."

"Heh," Suigetsu pulled the blanket up beneath his nose, "Guess you're right…"

"We may not be able to use inns during our trip. Sometimes we'll need to stay in shacks and old houses, things like that. We may not have food to eat every day, but once we get to the Loft we'll be fine." After prodding the fire one last time, Mangetsu slipped beneath a quilt, "Ninja shouldn't be a problem. The weather's been bad and I can take on just about anyone."

"You can use any sword you want!" Suigetsu encouraged.

"I wish." Mangetsu stretched an arm over his head and bent his back, overcome by an enormous yawn. Then he laid flat on the mats again, "I only have three in the Master Scroll right now. And I have Hansha, too."

Suigetsu slapped the grass-thatched floor with his hand, shocked, "You have Hansha? I thought Dad said only he could use it."

"I took it away from him." Mangetsu scoffed, "A drunk jerk like him doesn't need our clan's heirloom sword."

"Where is it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mangetsu grinned at his little brother.

"Ohh, let me see it, bro!"

"No way."

"Come on!"

"Until I have a good reason to use it, you don't need to see it."

"Hmf." Suigetsu pulled the blanket over his head to pout.

The crackling of the fire harmonized with the low, whistling wind of night outside.

Suigetsu felt tapping on top of his head. He poked his face out again to see his brother had scooched over, smiling his slanted, toothy smile.

"What?" The small boy puffed.

"You were tough today. You made it farther than I thought you would."

Suigetsu rolled onto his back on the mat, "You still had to carry me, though."

"I was prepared to. It's hard to travel when you're small." Mangetsu raised his arm as if reaching for the ceiling. Suigetsu watched the firelight bend and stretch shadows as his brother's arm expanded, widened with muscle. "But you can be strong when you need to be. If you practice controlling Hydrification, you can expand the muscles in your body. I don't think you're too young to try it."

"Could I really?"

"Give it a try. Hold up your arm and instead of liquefying…er…" He tried to describe it so his brother would understand, "Instead of spreading out or scattering yourself, like how you want to before you get hurt; pull inward and condense. Get bigger from the inside."

Suigetsu held up his arm and frowned at it for a long while. Mangetsu supposed he had the correct mentality, as his brother had not accidentally splashed apart from the attempt. He was trying to find the way to reorganize his composition.

"This is tricky." Suigetsu admitted.

"Keep at it. That extra strength will let you smash things and lift heavy swords." Mangetsu winked at him again.

"Yeah!" Suigetsu chirped, and for a long while he tried to influence his muscles.

After his arm ballooned once, awkwardly, the boy puffed in exhaustion and fell still. He snuggled up under his quilt, "I'll try again tomorrow."

"Good. Tomorrow, then. I want you to be able to punch a shinobi in the face if you ever get cornered without me. That could end up saving your neck."

"Can I learn other Hydrification tricks?"

"Sure. I'll show you how to vibrate tomorrow so you can warm up in a pinch."

"Cool." Suigetsu watched Mangetsu demonstrate, a shuddering pulse coursed through his body and moved like a wave from top to bottom.

"Get your rest now." His brother advised him, "Tomorrow you won't be carried again."

Kuina arrived at the hospital in the chilled dark of night to begin a shift at 11:00. The new commute from her home with Kamisori into the urban hub of Kirigakure was, admittedly, a bit long. It would take getting used to. 'Especially when everything is frozen over like this…' Allegedly, winter did not bother Kamisori. It was a season he could "work with," he said.

The kunoichi stopped in the lobby to adjust a blanket covering a patient in a wheelchair. Then, she proceeded to the Shinobi-Trauma ward. She was also scheduled to do a pass in the Surgery Division and join a briefing on transplants, 'Although I am not quite sure why they'd want to see me this time of year. It's not my usual field. Organ donors are fewer now that battles have died down…and we didn't admit many recipients.'

When Kuina arrived at the main desk of the department there was another medic-nin signing in for the night shift. He hunched over the counter and grimaced at a clipboard, listening absently to the previous shift's nurse rattling off notes and schedules to him. Kuina stood still, reverent of the medic-nin in front of her, and watched as he suddenly lashed out and bashed one of the seated nurses over the head with the clipboard. The bludgeoned assistant was Taki, the infamously useless medic-nin who was still employed for some reason. He jerked awake with a small shriek.

"The fuck are you sleeping for-?" The now on-shift medic roared, "Do you have the patient chart for me? Eh? Worthless, turtle-faced clod…" He ripped a stack of papers from the young man's hands, "Get out of my ward and go look for your next job. I'm forwarding my newest write-up about you to the Mizukage."

"B-But Takamine-san…"

"Get out, Taki. Out! Understand?" The veteran medic was wild-eyed as he launched himself over the desk (ignoring the screeches of nurses) and violently thrust Taki from a rolling chair, "Straight out the door. No paycheck! Get lost. I'm deleting you from every spreadsheet. By God, what the hell was I waiting for?"

"Sir! I was only resting my eyes-!"

Takamine-san slugged the boy right between the eyes and Taki skidded in his scrubs across the tile floor. Kuina covered her mouth with both hands, hoping an inappropriately timed sound of delight would not escape her.

After Taki had fled the rowdy man in the white lab coat rounded on Kuina, "Are you just gonna stand there like a statue, Arashino-kun? Move your ass!"

"Yes, sir!"

Kuina darted over to the desk and gave an apologetic look to the nurses reordering the station.

"How the hell are you? I haven't seen you in ten months." The man calmed down a little.

"I'm fine. I got promoted."

"Ah. So you're Chief Medic now? That was supposed to be my title."

"It might've been yours if you weren't abroad so much." She conceded.

"My research is critical." He insisted. He plucked a tissue from a box to loudly blow his nose and then added, "I moved up through the Land of Tea and had several interviews in the Land of Fire too. Almost took a job there…then my old fartknocker mother begged me to come back to Mist…"

Kuina swallowed her mirth. 'Hold it in…' One wrong move and he would be bashing her head in next, 'And I'll be fired and sent skidding out the door.'

"You've been busy while I've been gone." He arched an eyebrow at her, "Walk with me. I've got charting to do."

"Do you want me to check telemetry charts-?"

"No, Chucklefucks. I stuck So-Eun on the monitor. She's a cardiogenic wiz."

Kuina muttered under her breath, "How do you know that? I'm the one who's worked with her for ten months…"

"I know everyone. Specifically, I know every medic-nin in this village." The man grumbled, "I trained almost every single one of you clowns."

"Right." She stood beside him and held up a tray as he arranged medications to distribute, "So did you have a meeting with Mizukage-sama when you returned, Jokichi-danna?"

"Holy hell, do not call me that." He roughly took the tray from her, "It's just Jokichi."

He was Takamine Jokichi, the veteran Medic-nin of Kirigakure and seasoned grouch. He had taken Kuina under his wing when she was seventeen years old, well over a decade ago, to nurture her budding interest in healing techniques. 'Eh…nurture does not sound like the correct word…' She thought to herself as they stopped at the first room. Kuina had originally met the man because he was the best friend of her sensei, Higashikuni. These days she had no idea if they still kept in touch.

"Yeah, I had a meeting with the Mizukage. I blew a lot of hot air up his ass and got my preferred work schedule back." Jokichi informed her, "Of course there were plenty of things I didn't tell him about my trip or my research."

"Can you tell me?" She was intrigued.

Jokichi made a shrugging motion with his face, "If you keep your mouth shut."

She pursed her lips and followed after him.

Inside the recovery room, Kuina made small talk with the patient resting in bed; his leg was elevated in a cast, his head thickly bandaged. He was a Genin who had a recent mishap on a mission with his team. "Sensei and my teammates said they'll visit in the morning." The boy yawned happily. Jokichi spoke only to ask questions while he filled out the patient's chart. The Genin was then given water and medication and asked to sleep.

"It's almost never this empty in the trauma ward." Kuina noted as they proceeded down the hall, "A lot of the fighting died down for the winter."

"Don't get a false sense of security." Jokichi warned, "This is a perfect time for the Yuki clan to make a move."

"I probably would have heard about it."

He raised a tufted eyebrow at her, "Really? So you're an Intelligence Officer too?"

"No, it's just…" She tried to backpedal, realizing she had divulged a bit much.

"What?"

Her explanation came in fragments, "I'm getting married. To one."

"Whoa Chuckles, you're marrying a rebel?" Jokichi continued the conversation in the room of an unconscious patient, "You're as crazy as Higashikuni, if you're doing that intentionally."

"First of all, no one is as crazy as Higa-sensei. Second of all, while it is an intentional choice, Kamisori is a loyalist for the Mist Village. A double-agent." Kuina asserted, "And I really love him."

"Yuki. Kamisori." He roughly adjusted the monitor as he repeated the name, "Young lady…who is he a double-agent for? How are you certain he isn't double-crossing the Mizukage?" Jokichi asked as he began the next chart, "Don't you know what his last job was?"

Kuina frowned for a long moment, "Not exactly."

"Ask him." The man smiled sadistically, "Then think about getting married."

"I trust him with my life."

"You are much too trusting."

"I don't need a wandering doctor to criticize the choices I make as an adult." Kuina snapped at him, plugging in names and times on a whiteboard in marker, "You had that right back when I was an idiot teenager, Jokichi, but now I technically outrank you."

"Oh." Jokichi paused in his work to look at her. The silence was punctuated by the boops of the pressure monitor. He stooped down and lifted the plastic-lined trash bin, holding it up for her, "Look in here. What's in here?"

She replied uncertainly, "It's empty…"

"Right. All the fucks I give fit neatly in this garbage can." Jokichi growled, "Did you get a good look, Chief Medic?"

He tossed the bin down with a clamor and the sleeping patient did not react to the noise. Kuina quietly scolded him.

Jokichi continued to mutter angrily as they moved down the hallway again, "Outrank me…giving me…guff…" He looked over his shoulder, glowering, "You're an emotional, optimistic kind of girl. I've always known that since I first met you. Things are never quite as nice as you believe they are, Kuina."

"I acknowledge that." She took over completing the chart.

"I don't need you to be skeptical of me. Disparaging me…I saved your ass. I taught you how to be a medic-nin when Higashikuni wanted to put a sword in your hand and make you an assassin." Jokichi reminded her, "You were going to do it. You remember what changed your mind, Kuina? Why you wanted to save lives?"

"Let's not talk about it." Kuina suggested calmly.

"Your dumbfuck of a boyfriend: Ashikaga Weno. It was just the two of you, I remember. Two teammates. When Higashikuni took your Genin team on as a first-and-only-one-time sensei, he let the third kid die in the fourth week." Jokichi exclaimed in disgust, "God he's hopeless! I thought you Genin were goners after one of you didn't come back from a mission. Thought your sensei was an unconscionable fuck up…"

"He was." Kuina agreed quietly.

"Higashikuni didn't know what he was doing when he took a break from being a Swordsman…" Jokichi sighed, "But he wanted to do something constructive. Somehow you and Weno survived, and next thing I knew you were Chunin. I thought, hey! They're getting it! He's getting it. That beard-for-brains Higa didn't kill you." He began hooking up an infusion set and added, "And then I come back from a trip and hear that Weno's a drug addict."

"Remember when I asked you to not talk about this?" Kuina hissed as she scribbled on a whiteboard, "Don't."

"You wanted to save him. You tried again and again. Thought you could pry that shit out of his hands and hiding spots, get rid of it…like the cartels in the Water Country didn't know how to sniff out a recovering junkie." Jokichi laughed softly to himself, "You wanted to know how to fix people, you said. And I told you that's not how it works. He has to want to get fixed."

After the IV drip was hooked up and the chart complete, Kuina stormed out of the room. She took a seat on a maroon-upholstered bench in the white, echoing hallway. She had a full five minutes of silent fuming before Jokichi ventured out and sat beside her.

"He let you down, Chuckles, there's no denying that. If I had a ryo for every time that kid told you he quit, I'd be one rich motherfucker." Jokichi's voice softened, "Higashikuni was at his wits' end with him. Helping him. The two of you really did try."

"Weno used to say he loved me more than his fix." Kuina recalled distantly, "Then I would watch him go out and buy one."

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure why he always thought he was pulling one over on me." Tension seeped out of Kuina as she rubbed her chin, "I think it was all in his head. How he thought it all worked, that he had everyone fooled…Weno had convinced himself that he wasn't hurting me. That he wasn't hurting himself."

"Ah, Weno…" Jokichi saluted the ceiling, "He was a damn good ninja though."

"He learned a lot from Higa-sensei."

"I heard. And how did he repay his Master? He overdosed on the man's kitchen floor." Jokichi looked sidelong at Kuina, "Bet that's why you don't visit Higashikuni's house anymore, right? That's where you found him."

"Yeah. Sensei was out on a mission. Weno used to shoot up there so I wouldn't catch him."

"Worked spectacularly…until it didn't."

"Did Higa-sensei tell you that I don't visit anymore?"

"Yeah, I spoke to him last week." Jokichi began rubbing his palms on his knees; his hands were cold, "He said you don't even visit to see Chojuro."

"I met Chojuro when he was a baby."

"Well he talks now." Jokichi informed her, "You don't need to hide from Higashikuni. A visit is not going to spontaneously transport you to the past to see your dead boyfriend's face. You don't suffer from PTSD or flashbacks, or any of that kind of shit. You'll probably just go over there and end up drinking a lot of liquor; discuss some politics with Higa."

"Probably." She yielded.

"Talk about Kamisori too." Jokichi advised, "Your sensei knows him well."

"Come to think of it…Kamisori did mention Sensei a few times…"

"It's a small world." Jokichi pushed himself to his feet, "Let's get this floor done before my ass goes numb."

They concluded charting and late-night care for patients and at one point had to double-back when the Genin woke again, thirsty and pleading for water. Another on-duty nurse followed their evaluations and checked vital signs of patients in the ward. Jokichi stopped in the restroom, "Wait out here, I've got to take a huge shit." And then they moved on together to the surgery floor. Guo was already there waiting for them.

"Perfect timing, Senpai." The young man smiled at Kuina and maintained the expression as Jokichi lumbered towards him, "Our patient was just delivered from a mission and ordered here for an experimental procedure." He nodded politely to Jokichi, "Jokichi-danna, it's good to see you."

"Don't fucking call me that." The old medic growled.

Within the unit they put on hair nets and face masks, scrubbing their hands vigorously at the sink. Jokichi enlightened them of the purpose of a late-night operation.

"The Mizukage wants us to get some practice with eye surgeries. This Chunin just came in with severe lacerations, must have been one hell of a knife-fight. We'll fix up the rest of his face and make him pretty too." The man came to a stop beside the operating techs who were sedating the patient on a table, "The donor should be coming in any second now. Civilian. Terminal patient gave consent to donate an eye. Apparently these two are beloved cousins or something like that."

"It's a nice sentiment." Kuina supposed.

"Yeah, well…when you consider this is only to prepare us for the big operation in a week or so, it doesn't feel so warm and fluffy." Jokichi informed her, "Hunter-ninja captured a spy with a Doujutsu."

Kuina's eyes danced above her face mask, shocked, "The Mist Village came into possession of a Doujutsu?"

"A big one." Guo whispered, "A member of the Hyuga clan was taken in after a battle. Mizukage-sama wants us to transplant an eye into one of our Sensor-ninja and make use of it."

"I can hardly believe it…" She breathed.

"It's nuts. Kyonjin told me to handle it with kid gloves and not fuck up. Wants us 100 percent ready to transplant the Byakugan…" Jokichi was examining the second patient's vitals on a monitor, "Keep chakra pathways alive and all of those complex details, ah, I've done it before. You just never hear about a Hyuga whose eyes don't melt in their head when you try to take an eye from 'em, living or dead."

"He must be from the Main House. That's why it's possible." Guo concluded, "Kyonjin-sama wants us to visit the prisoner in the Detainment Block and make sure he's in good health. He's being well-cared for, at least."

"Will they let him go after all of this?" Kuina wondered.

"No." Jokichi said solemnly, "Why would we bother doing that? I doubt Leaf wants their damaged goods returned. No one is gonna care."

Kuina bit her lip and kept her opinion to herself. The injustice of the situation was devouring her.

"You're such a bleeding heart, Kuina." Jokichi sighed, beginning to assess the donor's left eye, "The Mizukage signed you on for that transplant, so suck it up. Months back I was in a gambling house with Tsunade-hime, and even she doesn't give a fuck what happens to Leaf and its people. Why should you?"

"Tsunade-hime?" Kuina and Guo questioned in unison.

"Yeah. We talked techniques over drinks after I beat her in a game. It's good business. She's not shy about opening up to other medic-nin, it so happens, but she is one spiteful cuntwagon. She blames Leaf for the deaths of her loved ones. She walked out of there and never looked back." Jokichi made a small incision with a chakra-scalpel, "That woman also has a pet pig. And a slave or assistant or something."

"Weird." Guo muttered. With Kuina's assistance, he was preparing the Chunin's now-empty eye socket and healing the surrounding tissues.

"Did she share any important techniques with you, Jokichi?" Kuina wondered, "She's a legend. That would be a very big deal."

"I'm sure you're dying to know, but that's between me and the princess. Like I said, there are some things I didn't mention to the Mizukage. Sometimes secrets should stay secrets, you know?"

An operating tech to Jokichi's right had the gall to chime in, "This isn't a social hour. Why don't you save your discussion for the post-op?"

Jokichi carefully moved his hand away from the donor's face and bent, landing a high-kick on the tech's chin. The man's head hit a positioned overhead light and he fell over onto a monitor.

"Who the fuck asked you? Techface." Jokichi resumed the extraction, "I haven't seen Kuina and Guo in almost a year. I'll catch up when I want to catch up. You know how many eyes I've transplanted? This will make twenty."

The other non-ninja tech politely moved a tray out of the way so that Jokichi could move with the eye in hand to the recipient. "I don't see any harm in talking if you can still concentrate." The woman chirped.

"Way to kiss some ass." Jokichi grumbled, continuing his work, "But you're right, Ikue. We'll get this done. Sorry I kicked your coworker."

She shrugged.

At 6:55AM, Kuina signed out at the nurse's station and gave her notes to the next medic on shift. She and her companions trudged out of the hospital and into the dim light of morning. Jokichi joined her and Guo for breakfast at a diner down the road. Pantomiming and cursing, Jokichi bullied the waiter on the opposite side of the door into opening five minutes early. The defeated worker unlocked and let them inside.

They were seated at a booth and a short time later served the food they ordered. Kuina and Jokichi both enjoyed rice with spicy fish roe and a huge bowl of soup, though Guo ordered chilled tofu and salad.

"What? You're not eating meat now?" Jokichi gruffed at Kuina's apprentice.

"I'm vegan."

Kuina jumped in with the definition when Jokichi appeared clueless, "That means he doesn't eat animal-derived foods."

"I know what it means, Chucklefucks." The veteran sniffed, turning back to the young medic-nin, "Eh, a woman made you eat that way, I bet."

"My girlfriend didn't make me, she just suggested it."

"He's got a girlfriend." Jokichi exchanged an incredulous glance with Kuina.

Kuina recovered quickly and complimented her friend, "I'm glad you're eating well, Guo. Your complexion has been looking a lot better, I've noticed."

"Thanks."

Jokichi prodded Kuina, "Are you skimming over the fact that this nerdy fuck has a girlfriend?" He added to Guo, "Shit, how old are you? Like, sixteen? That's what I thought."

"Nineteen. Please stop acting so shocked, sir."

"Your apprentice is growing up fast." Jokichi nudged Kuina in the ribs; in response she scooched away down the booth's seat.

"Quit picking on Guo. Me too. You shouldn't antagonize us when we are the last two people in this village who genuinely respect you." Kuina chastised him. She stuffed the last of her rice in her mouth, "I've got to run. The way home is long and I really want some sleep."

"Go ahead, Senpai. I'll pay for you." Guo offered.

Jokichi frowned at her, "You live in Mist."

"I moved. I'm just outside of the village now."

"Really? Whereabouts?" He pressed.

"It's like you said, sir, some secrets should stay secrets." She gave him a patronizing wink. Kuina shifted over and stood to pull on her heavy jacket, "Thank you, Guo. I'll pay for you next time."

"You can't just leave on that note, Kuina. You mean to tell me you already moved in with that snow-boy?" The veteran medic was waving his chopsticks in a concerned circle.

"I already told you I was serious."

"Kuina, don't you know he's-?" Jokichi's comment was cut off after she bustled out the door.

She was, quite frankly, tired of hearing people tell her the same thing. That Kamisori was a bad idea. That he had a controversial reputation that she had not quite yet assembled all the pieces of.

The kunoichi made bouncy leaps from rooftop to rooftop as she approached the border of the village. 'It seems like everyone needs to weigh in on my personal life…On a professional level they respect me and count on me for leadership, especially if someone needs saving. Even as a ninja no one doubts me, but what I do in my own home and who I do it with is none of their damn business.' It really wasn't. They were all aware of that even as they ran their mouths off, but alas, people in Kirigakure had a bad case of the know-it-alls. Blurting out pessimism was the norm.

The first rays of sunlight gleamed over the tiles and laid-stone facades of buildings. The architecture of the village was quite beautiful, Kuina thought, as the frost of winter clung to stone and seashells on stucco. It shined like precious gems. As time passed her mind dwelled less on the aesthetic and more on the frigid temperature. When she realized she was only a quarter of the way into her commute, Kuina shivered violently. The wind was picking up and cutting through her.

Jokichi was the same as she remembered. Temperamental. Intelligent. Somewhat bossy. Maybe he was right about visiting her sensei. She only avoided Higashikuni because he reminded her of the past, 'And of Weno.' He was not a bad or dislikable person. He had treated her well as a student during the time they spent together as a team. 'Maybe this is a good time of year to see him. I don't think Higa-sensei will be deployed to lead squadrons as much if there's a winter-ceasefire.' Although there was no official ceasefire, yet. Jokichi had mentioned that too.

Past the steep perimeter hills of the village and through the pine glades along the retaining wall, Kuina entered the deep silence of the land beyond. 'Man, what a long trip…' Now she understood why Kamisori had been so content to shack up with her within the village. Getting to and from the Loft felt like an expedition, 'And in winter it feels like a polar-trek!'

While the wind pricked at her face and hands, Kuina hustled through the forest. The vast wilderness stretched with coniferous trees, dark green dripping with white, and the trunks grew taller and fatter as she went. Before long, she was surrounded by the gigantic, magnificent redwoods that stood solidly in the deep banks of snow. She followed the route she had been taught and was wary of the tracks she left, doubling back a few times to leave her footprints on several snow-covered limbs.

Tucked on the far side of the dorsal-fin peaks of the island, she at last came upon the lonely forest that was utterly forsaken by civilization. The Loft house peeked out from beneath snow, worked craftily into treetops. She took a leap up to the engawa of the house, minding her head as icicles loomed over the veranda. At the front door Kuina slid the screen aside and hurried in, calling softly, "I'm home!"

She removed her boots in the genkan and then stepped into house slippers. She hung her jacket in a small closet beside the entryway. The hardwood floors throughout the sprawling home were chilled. There was a small fire going in the old irori hearth in the far left corner, but that was never enough to heat the tree-castle, Kamisori said. He had promised that he would pick up electric blankets and a kotatsu soon. Kuina shuffled over to the hearth and prodded at the fire, 'I feel like a weary traveler. My bones are creaking…it's terrible traveling in this weather.'

What she really wanted, Kuina decided as she slipped down the long hallway, was to find a warm place to sleep. And she also wanted to find a person in the warm place she liked to sleep.

She slid aside the bedroom door and closed it quietly behind her. Her heart felt like it was on an elevator-pulley, zooming up and down her chest at the sight of Kamisori deeply asleep. Well, that's what she assumed. She could only see a few white hairs from the top of his head poking out from beneath a heavy, ivory comforter. 'Ah! Sleeping like a baby.' Kuina tiptoed around the room to change clothes, 'He said he had a few days off. Better keep quiet and not ruin this for him…'

Peeking from around the wardrobe door as she disrobed, Kuina considered that their bed was the only one in the house. 'Every other room is traditional and stocked with futon for sleeping. I guess the old drug lord—ahem, previous homeowner didn't want his guests to be as comfortable as him.' She pulled on a marled blue tunic that stopped at her thighs. The air in the room was so stale and frigid that she thought underwear, pants, and socks may be in order. Instead she shut the closet and trudged away, too tired to continue dressing, 'I just kick off socks in the middle of the night anyway.'

The bed was as lusciously comfortable as Kamisori had made it look from across the room. Kuina burrowed her way beneath the poofy comforter and stretched out her hands. Her fingertips traced his arm and bare chest. She took the space beside him and he didn't budge, his face sunken into a down pillow. 'He always sleeps naked.' She thought with wonderment. Kamisori, given the choice, was happy to ditch clothes if there was a bed and blanket involved. But in the stark December cold she wondered if he and the Yuki clan were truly winter-immune or if Kamisori was just a weird, weird man.

Kuina let her head sink back into her own pillow, and after glancing at the arms of the numberless clock on the bedside table, 8:15AM, she shut her eyes and left the conscious world.

When she woke again Kamisori was having a conversation with her. At least, that's what her ears detected. Though she was asleep and not answering him, he carried on talking quietly, probably with the intention of waking her. Kuina eeked open an eye to glimpse the clock to her left: 12:05PM. The scoundrel. Couldn't she get more than four hours?

"Ah." Kamisori said when he noticed her eye open, "Good afternoon, Kuina."

"No." She objected hoarsely, "Stop talking. I was quiet while you were asleep and I'd like the same courtesy. Can it, mister."

"I missed you." His lips curved into a smile. He was balancing his chin on the heel of his hand, laying stomach-down beside her.

"Shh."

"You didn't wake up earlier and I must have been talking to you for thirty minutes."

"Maybe that's why I was having crazy dreams. Shh."

Kamisori went on, "I was trying to catch up with you; tell you what I've been up to since you left last night."

"Mmmgmm." She implored, squeezing her eyes shut.

"You'd rather talk later?" He interpreted her noises, "My…you must've had an eventful shift. You're always up for conversation, Kuina. I know you need your rest, but if you catch up with me now I promise I'll reward you."

She furrowed her eyebrows, or more likely her whole face, "If that reward involves me sleeping the rest of the day away…go ahead."

"It does involve that." He assured her.

Kuina sighed in relief. That meant he would do the shopping. The cooking. Heating the house. Whatever. He just signed himself up in exchange for pillow talk. 'What a sucker.'

Kamisori shifted to lay on his back and pulled her close. Kuina dozed with her head tucked beneath his chin, 'Huh, this is pretty nice. I guess I could let him gab for a little while.'

"As I was saying before, I think you can benefit from the Ptarmigan Contract, if you want it. It's a good way to correspond when we're apart and I can track you if I need to. You can start with Debumaru."

Her brain was foggy. "Who's Debumaru?" She asked slushily against his chest.

"The bird on our roof."

"Ooooh." Kuina's voice was rough, "That fluffy, white thing? His name is literally Tubby-Boy."

"It is, but I didn't name him that."

"I bet the great bird elders are named Rolly-Beak and Greasy-Wing."

"I have no idea. Probably."

She nuzzled closer and draped her leg over his, "I'll think about it. A summoning contract might be helpful…"

"Good. So how was your shift?"

"Crasser than usual. Takamine Jokichi was assigned to the same ward as me." Kuina yawned, "He trained me as a medic-nin a long time ago. He's been traveling for almost a year to gather techniques. I was really surprised to see him."

"That name seems familiar…"

"He's Higa-sensei's friend, but he's way more creative with profanity."

"Ah." Kamisori plucked listlessly at her nightshirt, "That's right. The veteran medic."

"That one."

"Not very likable."

"Some may say that about you too, Sori."

"…point taken."

"So how do you know Higa-sensei?" She ventured curiously. Jokichi had been so mysterious about it. Ominous.

"Like how I know most colleagues; I used to take missions with him."

"He never mentioned you." She yawned again.

"I never gave him a reason to." Kamisori admitted, "Back then…I didn't talk much."

"You're a better communicator now."

"I suppose."

"Later we had to report to the O.R. for an eye transplant. I was told it was to prepare us from transplanting the Byakugan of one of our prisoners." When she said it, they both shifted their heads to look at each other, "Did you hear about that at all?"

"No." He was wide-eyed, "Mist took a member of the Main House Hyuga?"

"That's what Jokichi said." Kuina tucked her head down again, mumbling, "I kind of feel bad. I don't really want to do it."

"If you don't want Kyonjin to throw you in prison, you had better do it."

"You wouldn't let him." Her words were soft and childish.

Kamisori made an affirmative sound before he assured her, "I wouldn't. Or at the very least I would break you out of the detainment hold."

"Hm…I heard no one gets out of there alive. There's an ex-Hunter unit commander running the prison as the Warden now."

Kamisori sighed, "Well…I could probably help you escape, but I couldn't fight the Warden and live."

"Sure you could." She yawned again.

"Kuina…" He was stroking her shoulder gently, "You don't know very much about…the people the Mizukage has surrounded himself with, do you? The rare ninja he keeps close."

"Like you and me?"

"No, I mean the exceptional ninja who shadow his steps. Like Hayago." He said the name harshly, "Your good friend, Toyotomi Hayago. He's a veteran who's won every battle he's ever been in."

"I knew that."

"But you don't know why. You don't know about his ability." Kamisori explained, "Just like those who thought they could cross the Warden who has guarded our jail cells for the last five years…those fools met their end."

"I heard there was a big fight at the jail, once. With the new Warden."

"Terumi Tanda was dismissed as the previous Warden because of his connections to the rebellion. He did try to dispute it and clear his name, but the new Warden was told to dispose of him."

"Huh, I heard of Tanda. He was strong. Higa-sensei told me he had the Boil Release."

"That Kekkei Genkai didn't matter much against a ninja who is immortal." Kamisori told her. She gave him an incredulous look.

He continued, "You don't understand the level of ninja the Mizukage keeps in his cabinet."

"No one is immortal, Kamisori."

He sighed, "That's what we're supposed to think."

"So the long and short of it is; we don't want to get thrown in jail."

"Exactly. It won't end well. Also, it's a terrible place to pick a fight."

"Well I can at least understand that." She conceded.

"You're very fortunate you've never been on the wrong side of the law—or the wrong side of the Mizukage. At least now if you choose a rebellious lifestyle I'm here to protect you."

"That's sweet." She pulled the blanket up higher to warm her frozen nose, "I don't think I'm destined for trouble, Sori. And you know, for a man who is not in jail right now, you know an awful lot about criminal activity and punishment."

"I speak from experience."

"Have you ever been on the Mizukage's bad side?"

"Once." Kamisori admitted, "And to avoid a severe punishment I agreed to do the basest of things to secure our village's, and his, safety."

She moved up and pulled a pillow beneath her head to get a good look at him. There was a haunted, ashy look on his face. As if he had swapped one kind of evil for another. But his narrow, mono-lid eyes seemed so sad, watery-blue on the right and ice-blue on the left. A mismatch. Like a good person who was told to do terrible things. Kuina sensed it, and privately felt that it was inevitable that she too would be in that position someday.

"You're not a bad guy, you know." She reminded him in a scratchy voice.

He shut his eyes while facing her, making an attempt to believe those words.

Kuina let her hand rest over his belly button and her fingertips traced along the rim. He almost laughed but the sound stuck in his throat. She glimpsed beneath the comforter and he felt her stroking what she had once called "the happy trail."

"And you also know," She reported from beneath the blanket, "That your drapes don't match the carpet. It's like…dark silver down there."

"I didn't know they had to match." He smirked a little.

"They don't have to." Kuina popped back up, "Say, why do you sleep naked in winter?"

"Because I always do."

"Don't Yuki get cold at all?"

"Not really, especially while exerting their Blood Limit, they don't. We're simply used to it." Kamisori explained, fiddling with her nightshirt again, "And if I were a full-blooded Yuki I wouldn't look the way I do."

"So then…you're not?" She squeaked from under the covers. Even if he wasn't cold, she definitely was.

"My mother was given to my clan as an act of camaraderie, and also because of her lack of a Kekkei Genkai. She had white hair like mine."

"Oh." Kuina smiled at him for a long moment, "Will you tell me about your family?"

Kamisori fell unusually quiet.

"I'd like to meet them." Kuina added, "You met my father."

"You can't. There is no one left worth meeting." Kamisori replied shortly.

"But your parents-?"

Cornered and slightly annoyed, Kamisori cut her off with a freight-train narrative, "My father was Yuki Miketoki, Jounin and former steward of the Yuki clan. He was introduced to and married Kaguya Narimo when she was brought to the clan estate at age eighteen. They got along uncommonly well. They were average, caring parents until my mother died of respiratory complications. A few years later my father was killed on a mission. I was eleven and intent on my Chunin promotion at the time."

He calmed down and took a breath, "My sister is Okimo, who always encouraged me to care about other people. She took up a relationship with a man from my clan, and he played cruel mind games with her until she ran away…I have no idea where Okimo has been for the last ten years. I couldn't introduce you even if I thought it was a good idea."

Kuina tried to produce words of understanding but she could only stare at him.

"As for the rest of the Yuki, they are despicable, conniving aristocrats who will do whatever it takes to eliminate their adversaries." He went on, "Kuina, please don't take it personally. I don't ever want to see them again if I can help it, and I certainly don't want them to offend the woman I will spend my life with."

"I understand. Sorry to bring that up." She laid a hand on the side of his face, "I didn't know how much it would bother you."

"It's alright." He wrapped an arm around her midsection, "Get more sleep now. I'll take care of the chores like I promised."

"Okay, but don't leave yet." Kuina requested, "Just stay here a bit longer."

He obliged without a word. Kamisori held her for a long while until she was deeply asleep. He watched snow fall in a slow waltz outside the window.

At the same time within the Hidden Mist Village, Haku was enjoying fresh air on the rooftop of Zabuza's apartment complex.

Snowflakes sifted down from the white sky, like the sugar his mother used to sprinkle on top of sweet bread. Haku traced the building's edge, following along the square perimeter as he silently mimed ninja hand seals. He had finished reading the Genin Training manual. He was into the thick of Chapter Three of the Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi too.

His fingers slipped easily through the motions. He had practiced them over the sink, in the bath, on his back on the sofa; everywhere he was allowed to be, Haku had practiced shinobi fundamentals. Zabuza had even left out kunai, shuriken, and throwing spines on the table for him to get familiar with their handling. "Throw 'em at this cabinet if you want." The man had instructed, drawing a black X in marker on the aged wood.

And that was how it started. Zabuza was out for hours, sometimes for days, but he would return with food and sometimes clothing. Haku had dressed more warmly for the winter; wearing a heavy blue gi over a sweater, and sporting a scarf two sizes too big for him.

In the long, solitary hours of boredom Haku would read or he would practice. When he could not stomach looking at print on paper or standing still to gather chakra, Haku threw open the screenless window and gulped down frigid air. He would go mad in this place. There was nothing else to do; no one to talk to for days. Haku desperately missed the stretching fields of his family's farm, following after his father with tools and pails, feeding their animals. He missed the sky above his head and the wind on his face.

So it was only natural he began to think about how he could bend Zabuza's rule without breaking the rule. He began with the newspaper in the hallway. Haku understood that he was not to be seen or risk anyone discovering him. But he had caught on to the routines of the building's inhabitants while Zabuza was away. He timed it so that all doors were shut, and the corridor rang with the static sound of emptiness. He crept out and looked around. He stole the day's newspaper from the end of the hall. At first, that was all he dared to do. Haku returned to the apartment and read the paper. Some of it he could not understand, but the front page always had miserable news about death, conspiracy, and food shortages.

The same day he had fuddled around and properly used the Clone jutsu for the first time, with no one around to congratulate him of course; Haku had snuck out and climbed the rooftop exit stairs. He went unseen and unheard, and shut the roof access door behind him. The cold and the wind stung his ears, but it was a sweet feeling. As if liberty and ice sang in harmony in his veins; some power he did not completely comprehend yet. He gazed out at the hills, the trees, and the laid-brick pathways in the distance, segmenting the village into portraits of an urban winter.

Haku repeated the stunt a second and third time successfully, never mentioning to Zabuza that he had been out and about. Eventually, he was caught anyway. The daily newspapers that Haku had been confiscating from a resident down the hall had been hoarded beneath his pile of books. Zabuza eyed them suspiciously and he reached for a copy, grunting, "You signed up for a subscription, huh?" He flung the paper across the room and it spun, sliding to a stop on the counter.

Haku sputtered at the man's anger. Zabuza stood over him and the boy shrunk, forcibly taking a seat on the sofa. The man bent and growled, his face was completely uncovered that evening. He braced an arm against the wall above Haku's head and bared his teeth, "Did I not make myself clear?"

"I-I…no one was-"

"Just because you don't see a resident or the mailman go by does not mean you are safe. A Black Ops sentry is not a threat you're going to see, got it? You could get reported or picked up." He leaned back and stood straight again, "And I'll let them do it. That'd be the end of it, Haku."

"I'm sorry." Haku squeaked, "But I couldn't take being inside anymore."

"I don't care. You do what I tell you. You're as good as dead otherwise."

He nodded meekly.

Zabuza backed off and continued unpacking groceries from a paper bag. His ire reduced to a low simmer. In an act of apology, Haku stood and scampered across the room to assist with putting supplies away. Zabuza did not say a word as the boy did it. He put a pan on the stove loudly, supposing the child could guess he was still displeased. If he was disobeyed again, Zabuza debated on how to issue a reprimand to procure the behavior he wanted. He could make a statement by leaving the boy out in the cold by himself and let him enjoy the outdoors. Not that he'd really leave him there to be picked up by social services, but Haku could take the hint.

Haku had stilled and was watching Zabuza closely. The man was about to tell him to fetch two eggs when, from the corner of his eye, he witnessed the small boy move through hand seals, Dog, Boar, Ram, and a pop followed. Haku had transformed perfectly into Zabuza's likeness.

Without saying anything, Haku handed the egg carton to his caretaker while still in disguise. Zabuza accepted it and set it down, glancing over the transformation critically. Haku had gotten his likeness down to the stubble; his edged teeth, muscle, bad haircut and everything.

"Good." Zabuza decided.

Haku dissolved the transformation, "I can make clones too."

"Good. I thought I'd have to show you all of that."

"I practiced while I was outside."

His eye twitched in annoyance, "Hnf."

"I think I am still too slow with Substitution. I should be tested." The child admitted. He pulled up a chair to stand over the counter and dip pork cutlets in the egg wash Zabuza had made. "If I keep practicing outside-"

"You're not going out." Zabuza cut in fiercely, "Not without me."

Haku squinted his eyes and smiled. He breaded the cutlets and then handed them to Zabuza one at a time. The man added them to the hot oil of the pan.

"Do not disobey me again." Zabuza warned, "I'm taking a day off tomorrow. I'll train you. We'll work on your Supplementary Jutsu and throwing form," He gestured to the cabinet where notch-marks had missed the black X, "Your aim isn't so great."

"I know."

"Then it's a three-day mission after that. Lay low and wait, I'll have food here for you. When I get back I'll have more time off…so we should start packing."

"Packing?"

"We need to get out of here." Zabuza clarified. The pan was popping and spitting oil.

"Where would we go?" Haku halted in his work chopping green onions and radishes.

"To a place where no one is watching. You can train there without having to hide or wait for me." He explained.

"I'd like that."

They completed the construction of the evening meal and sat at the table to eat. While Haku stuffed himself, Zabuza watched him in silence. The gauntness of Haku's face had filled out. He had good color and muscle tone, even the fat he had sorely needed at his midsection, which had once been ribs. The vitamins and food had probably just stopped him short of becoming a skeleton. Chopsticks in Haku's hand were handled dexterously. He plucked up rice and vegetables and wolfed them down.

'He's still a twiggy scarecrow.' Zabuza conceded as he chewed lazily, 'But at least he looks human now.'

Haku noticed he was being watched. He said nothing and leveled his gaze with Zabuza's calmly. He stopped eating while Zabuza continued. The silence was organic and they looked at each other for a long while, both considering how they were both mostly still alone, for days at a time, but had also gained all of the company they could ever need in the world.

They cleaned up after dinner and together went to the rooftop of the complex. Zabuza brought along a small wooden milk crate for Haku to attempt to Substitute himself with. He nicked the boy with kunai a few times, never seriously, and after a few ragged, sweaty endeavors, Haku had managed to Substitute himself fluidly. The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, bathing clouds heavy with snow in plum-pink light.

Haku caught his breath. He watched the sunset for a time before Zabuza dared him, "Think you can catch me?" And he was goaded into a hopeless chase after a slippery quick Jounin who seemed to blur away from his outstretched hands. It was fun blemished with frustration. Haku came running around the bend of the rooftop access when a building resident pushed open the creaky door.

Haku skidded to a stop and watched as the heedless man lit up a cigarette to smoke on the roof. Zabuza promptly fitted his palm around the resident's neck and pushed him back through the doorway, explaining, "In use." And hurled the innocent smoker down the exit stairs.

Before the door swung shut, Haku could hear the victim cry, "Ack! Ow…You're a fucking psycho, Momochi! Bonafide psycho! The hell I ever do to you-?"

Haku clasped his hands and looked helplessly at his guardian. Zabuza reported, "He didn't see you."

He let out a breath.

They agreed that was enough practice. When the way was clear, they returned to the apartment and Haku felt his stomach twist and strain. Maybe running around after eating was not such a good idea, he reasoned, but if Zabuza did it without complaint then surely he could do the same. He waited on the sofa and read his book while Zabuza bathed.

'Musasabi Naruto certainly does like his teammate Tsuyu a lot…' Haku flipped the page, frowning, 'And he is hurt that their teammate Renge has abandoned them.' He wondered if he would ever know what it was like to appreciate or quarrel with teammates. Most of the chapter continued with Naruto and a substitute teammate, Nikaku, fighting and making wisecracks about donkeys. He marked the page and went to the washroom after Zabuza told him to use the hot water left over.

As he passed by the bedroom door that was slightly ajar, Haku glimpsed his guardian from behind, completely nude. Zabuza was roughly toweling his hair dry. Unaffected, Haku proceeded to the bathroom. He undressed himself and sat on a stool to clean off before entering the tub.

'Father kind of looked like that.' He had bathed with his parents all the time, before the tragedy, 'He did not have as many muscles, though, or scars.' Haku ran a damp cloth over his shoulders and down. His skin was alabaster white and unmarked, childishly soft. Someday, he imagined his body would be pocked with scars from battle. Zabuza had many. One particular, wild mark stretched diagonally from his right flank, stopping on the dimple of his lower back. 'That probably hurt for a while…'

Once clean, Haku stepped lightly into the tub to warm up. He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, remembering how he had been scolded earlier. Zabuza's anger had reached inside of him to a place that far surpassed the fear he had felt during his father's attack. He had inflicted that terror with a word and a look. Haku did not want to imagine what it would be like provoking Zabuza to attack.

'And then…as quickly as he had said those things…' It subsided. He'd been upset, but he did not want to stay that way. Maybe it was because he knew that he already had Haku's nonverbal cooperation and acknowledgment. That he would not disobey again. 'I don't know…if he knew what I was thinking. It felt like he did. Since we first met, he's understood me.'

His mother also used to know things, sometimes. Without saying anything, without doing much at all, she derived answers. Maybe this was a talent that all adults had?

'Maybe not all of them.' Haku conceded, remembering how his father had not wanted to know or understand anything once prejudice blinded him to the love of his own family. How he and his mother would never hurt or betray him. How they'd been harmless. 'He didn't understand at all…'

He avoided getting his hair wet and soaked for a while. The cold air nipped him when he hopped out and dried off. Haku changed into night clothes he kept in a basket in the bathroom's hutch. He drained the tub and brushed his teeth with a brush that was obviously intended for an adult, but that was all Zabuza could find for him locally.

All the lights of the apartment had been extinguished when he left the washroom. He padded softly in bare feet into the dark bedroom, stopping only to gawk at the window. The half-moon was veiled by a curtain of heavy snowfall, a column of muted grey light shone in a rhombus on the floor. Haku scurried to the bed and leapt up, hurriedly pulling the blanket over his head.

To avoid nightmares, freezing, and a variety of other problems, Zabuza had allowed him to sleep there each night. Haku was quite pleased with the arrangement as the large bed was certainly more comfortable than the old cot at the farm. His parents had only owned one futon, so he had slept on straw and wool. But this thing, Haku thought, this novelty of modern society and comfort! 'Ahh…' He would be much pickier about where he slept, probably for the rest of his life.

Zabuza was already asleep. He slept on his back and hardly moved at night. Haku crept a bit closer for warmth, careful not to jostle his companion, and then tucked the blanket under his chin. He fell asleep quickly, but only slept for a few hours, or was it minutes? Moonlight through the window had changed positions.

Haku had woken from a dream of staring at himself. Well, what he was convinced was himself, but older, in a reflection. A single, slim trail of blood rolled down from the top of the mirror he'd been looking into.

Haku laid on his back and rubbed his face with both hands, batting his eyes. No need to panic. All was copacetic. More and more, he dreamt of fighting. Of hiding. Of terrifying things. He dreamt of violent things he did not know how to do, but deep inside, maybe he did know how to do. 'Maybe after all,' He supposed with his eyes trained on the ceiling, 'I need to be a shinobi. Maybe there's no other way I can live.'

He slipped his hands beneath the blanket. Haku was still for a while, but his anxiety pricked at him. He slowly practiced hand seals that he had memorized. This could be a useful application of time, Haku hoped. He'd made great progress with Supplementary techniques all on his own, tapped into his chakra with hardly an instruction. What he read and let his brain process could be made real, when he worked on it.

Zabuza reached over and stilled Haku, wrapping a large hand around an attempted Horse seal. He peeked an eye open, "That's not sleeping. That's annoying."

"I can't sleep."

"It's because you read too much."

"That's all you let me do. I practice too." He kept his voice at a whisper. Not like anyone could hear what they were saying in the dead of night.

"Don't practice right now."

"I'll feel better if I do."

Zabuza rolled onto his side and gave him a long, really? look. What could go on in a kid's head that, even while at rest, he was still working, still struggling, while unconscious?

He fanned his hand out and folded the boy's hands into the Horse seal again. He rearranged Haku's fingers several times into other seals, somewhat intrigued by tiny hands that knew how to do so much. He then pulled Haku's arm up above his head, positioning his right hand into the Seal of Confrontation, a merging of Tiger and Ram.

"The Hidden Mist jutsu is a staple of this land. I'll show you tomorrow." Zabuza informed him, "I think you'll get it."

"What is that seal?" His voice was faint and he relaxed his arms and settled down.

"Confrontation. It's used in many different ways; depending on where you come from and what you intend to do." The man explained, "There are many seals beyond the basic ones you've learned."

"You'll show me." Haku presumed.

"Yeah." He stretched out on his back again.

The boy seemed content after that.

Haku curled up awfully close, much too close, unaware that Momochi Zabuza was a very talented murderer and not so great a person. His face pressed into the man's cotton shirt and he did finally sleep.

Zabuza was still acclimating to the idea of a living organism sharing close quarters with him on a regular basis. Even the occasional whores he bought and fucked did not cling or stay for long. Teammates and squadron members kept a healthy distance. Since his Academy days, come to think of it, everyone did.

But no, a homeless street-urchin with the Hyoton had no qualms with cozying up to him. Granted, Haku had shot an ice spike or two through at least one of his parents, Zabuza gathered, but he was not sure if that was enough to make them kindred spirits. Compatible. Whatever. Maybe if this kid really was such a bright, intelligent superstar he would know better.

And on the rim of his growing shock and bewilderment that someone dared to get close, was a tiny but frightening iota of appreciation; an infinitesimal shred of gratitude that he could be important to someone else. It was an alien feeling. Warm and expanding, taking up the empty space that made up most of his life. Providing significance, he might venture.

Loving this little boy was clearly out of the question. The opportunity was there and the prospect tempting, but Zabuza had seen plenty of other powerful ninja get killed for it. For loving and needing and those other soft things. Shinobi always paid dearly for it, and those that didn't were probably not fighting a war.

Haku would be kept by his side the way a sword is kept by a man's side. Swords are only meant to cut and defend, and if they break then you simply move on. As far as Zabuza knew, no one ever cried over losing a weapon.

He let his eyes drift shut. But it was cold that night, and the blades of swords are cold and unforgiving.

And Haku is warm.