~seven years earlier~
Wham! A fierce punch to the jaw sent Haku sprawling.
"Get up, Haku." Zabuza's voice was cold.
"Yes, Lord Zabuza," Haku panted. He trembled with fatigue as he struggled to get back on his feet. Once he was up, Zabuza rushed him and knocked him flat again.
"Didn't I already tell you that you wouldn't sleep until this new technique was mastered? The quicker you nail it, the quicker you can rest."
"Y-yes, Lord Zabuza," moaned Haku, lying on the ground, his breathing pained. Zabuza, seemingly irritated by his student's display of weakness, kicked him viciously in the stomach. Haku rolled and bounced over the ground like a rag doll.
"Prove your worth!" Zabuza snarled. "Or did I pull you out of the gutter for nothing?!" Still tumbling helplessly over and over, Haku suddenly took control, using his momentum to roll to his feet. His eyes burned with determination. He planted his feet solidly on the ground and wove a succession of signs.
"Transform!" he screeched. Smoke flared around him, and when the cloud cleared, a replica of Zabuza stood in his place. In another poof of haze, Haku went back to normal. His finely-featured face was gilded with a smile of pure joy at his long-awaited accomplishment. He had mastered the art of transformation. Then his smile became fixed, and he fell flat. In a swirling of smoke, Zabuza appeared at his side. "I-I did it," Haku whispered. His eyes were shining up at his teacher. "I did it, Lord Zabuza . . . just as you said." He made what was obviously a painful effort to lift his head.
"Keep still!" barked Zabuza. He surveyed the boy without speaking for a minute. A deep scowl contorted his features. "Your chakra is drained." He sounded disgusted. "You may not have enough to stay alive."
"Will I die here, Lord Zabuza?" asked Haku quietly. There was no fear in his voice, only curiosity, coupled with the ever-present awe with which he addressed his teacher. Zabuza said nothing, only eyeing Haku inscrutably while the boy gradually passed out. Only when he had fully lost consciousness did Zabuza say in the softest of murmurs,
"No. You will not die here." He pressed both hands against Haku's chest, one on top of the other. "Chakra transfer technique . . ." he muttered. "Shimon, the eighth gate, the gate of death—absorb my chakra!" His body went taut, and light surrounded first him, and then Haku, as the transfer took place. Zabuza gradually began to show signs of exhaustion: first his body started to sag, followed by shivers that quickly grew more violent. Yet he made no move to remove his hands. His skin became paler and paler, until he was alarmingly ashen. His breathing quickened; soon he was gasping for air. Finally the light of awareness vanished from his bloodshot eyes. He fell heavily onto his side next to Haku. The boy's near-coma of a few minutes before was gone, and he slept peacefully. It was Zabuza now who lay dangerously close to death.
Haku hadn't been awake to see. He would never discover Zabuza's life-threatening sacrifice on his account. The only side of his teacher he would ever know was the pitiless master who taught through pain alone.
But maybe Zabuza cared more than he would ever admit.
= The End =