Blood On Snow

BLOOD ON SNOW

A soft wind blew gently through the branches as the winter snows began to fall. The boy looked up and held out his hand to catch the first snowflake drifting towards the frozen earth. He shivered watching it turn to a solid drop of ice inches above his fingertips. Tumbling into his hand, it melted in his palm. He clenched his fist, brought it close to his chest and pulled the cloak tighter around him. Breath billowing in small eddies from delicate lips, the boy held on desperately to what warmth he possessed, huddling down. It would be a long night’s watch ahead.

The fresh snowfall made travelling harder but it would also give them a chance to throw off their would-be pursuers. Tracks were easily covered and scents masked by the new ground covering. Yet, however advantageous snow could be, in the depths of his heart, the boy still dreaded its arrival. It blanketed the mind as it did the land. A harbinger of sorrow, it brought dark memories to the surface.

Glancing, wide-eyed into the gathering dusk, the boy ran perfectly painted fingernails through his flowing ebony hair. The last rays of sunlight shone across the woodland clearing, lancing sharply off the sleek blade of the Kubikiri Houcho embedded in the ground a few feet away. He glanced over to where his master lay, sleeping face lit by the dying sunbeams.

A troubled frown briefly crossed the muscular warrior’s features and he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. The younger ninja had watched his guardian toss and turn night after night, the restlessness becoming worse as they travelled on. Bad dreams became part of the deal with the life they led, the boy knew this all too well. He shuddered remembering the thoughts that plagued him nightly; screams in the darkness, harsh voices, ice meeting flesh and blood on snow.

Snow… it was falling heavier now. Drifting in small flurries, it blew under the edge of the boy’s cloak and nipped at his shins. This winter was nothing compared to the ones remembered from his childhood, but the chill was enough to make him wish for the warmth and comfort of the post-town inn. It seemed that his master was feeling the cold to, for he nestled deeper into a hollow at the foot of the tree, drawing his knees up to his chest.

With the hunter-nin on their trail, the two mercenaries had been forced to quit their prior job unexpectedly, leaving without time to resource new clothes or provisions. Whilst the boy had managed to steal a cloak along the route, Zabuza, stubborn as ever, had insisted on sticking with his everyday outfit. The young shinobi shook his head. He was not surprised his master was cold. A black tank top, no matter how well-built the wearer, was hardly warm enough for this season.

Though he knew he must keep watch and stay at his post, part of the lad yearned to lie with his master, hold him close, warming the other man with his body heat. He longed to wrap his arms around those rugged shoulders and comfort the warrior’s nightmares away. But he couldn’t… his sense of duty forbade him to. They were in far too open a location for him to risk slacking off sentry duty. He must keep his vigil and guard their position.

As the sun finally dipped over the horizon, casting cold shadows across the now white-blanketed clearing, the boy’s heart got the better of him. He took a good look around and then shuffled over to where Zabuza lay. He fumbled to untie the cloak from around his neck, removing it from his shoulders. Carefully placing it over the hunched form, he tucked it in around his guardian’s sandaled feet and exposed shoulders. Momentarily letting the back of his hand brush against the sleeping man’s cheek, the boy stopped as the already loose bandages were knocked aside. They tumbled down around the warrior’s neck, revealing the rest of his face.

Although the troubled frown still graced his features, Zabuza looked almost peaceful as he rested there. Dark eyes closed below furrowed brows, jaw set stubbornly and mouth faintly turned up in a subconscious grin. The lad ran the tips of his fingers over his masters slightly open lips and smiled to himself. He knew he’d never voice what he truly felt to the older man, but secretly, even being in his master’s presence was enough for him.

Quietly, the young shinobi rose, pulled the kimono tighter around his slender frame and made his way back to the sentry post.


* * *

Faint twitters of birdsong on far-off trees heralded the break of dawn. As the sun rose, it danced across the clean whiteness, sparkling in the chill air. The night’s precipitation lay thick on the ground and hindered the foraging of a small white rabbit snuffling at the base of a shrub. Disturbed, it perked up its ears and bounded across the clearing with ease, it’s wide paws making soft thumps as they hit the snow.

“Haku?”
The familiar voice, groggy as it was from the night’s slumber, roused the boy from his avid concentration.

Yawning a little, the ebony-haired boy turned his head expectantly. Now awake, his master still looked somewhat drowsy. His hair was tousled and the forehead protector he always wore was lopsidedly slipping over his ear. Haku tried not to grin as Zabuza squinted at him sleepily, flexing his shoulders to stretch away the tiredness. Over the years spent by the man’s side, Haku had rarely seen him so well rested.

“No sign so far,” the younger ninja stated, “they may have lost our tracks back on the trail.”

Shaking his head, Zabuza re-adjusted his forehead guard, re-tied his mask and tugged off the covering cloak. A brief shiver rippled across his frame, but he bundled up the fabric and stood up. He did little more than nod as he handed the cloak back to Haku, but that was acknowledgement enough for the boy, who quietly smiled back.

“That’s wishful thinkin’. They’ll not give up so easily.” Zabuza stated matter-of-factly.

It was true. Their very presence in the island nations was motive enough for every hunter-nin from Mist to come hard on their trail. The best chance the two travellers had of evading their pursuers was to make it to the coast. Once there, they could commandeer a boat and head for a neighbouring country. There was even the chance of prospective work on the other end - some rich businessman offering good money for a small clean-up job. Haku knew the so-called ‘clean-up job’ would be of a less-than-savoury nature and probably involve the discrete annihilation of certain individuals, but he took it in his stride. He’d do whatever was necessary in accordance to his master’s wishes. But, if the two were ever to accept this job they’d have to make it to the sea first.

Zabuza kicked away the hardened snow and reclaimed his blade, sweeping it up into the holster on his back. Then, turning to Haku, he beckoned the boy on. The lad rose and once more wrapped the cloak around himself. Checking to see that the white rabbit noticed that they were heading out, he grabbed his small satchel from the foot of the tree and dutifully followed.

They walked in silence for a couple hours, hiking through the small woodland and then out over the white terrain. The snow crunched as Haku’s light boots sunk into the deeper drifts. It was a soft smooshing noise that was rather comforting in the crisp morning quiet. Walking about five paces behind his master, the young shinobi wondered at the other man’s resilience. Whereas the persistent walking and chill wore down Haku’s body so he had to pause every so often, Zabuza had been pacing out ahead without tiring once.

Slightly irritated at his own lack of stamina, the boy bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. He tried to draw his mind away from aching limbs by concentrating on the fluffy white substance in his palm. The dusty flakes started to compact and mould together. Soon the pile of fluffy snow had turned into a perfectly spherical bundle of flakes; not so tightly shaped that it became ice, but not so loose that it fell to pieces. Perfect.

Glancing tentatively up, Haku saw that Zabuza still had his back turned, walking on up ahead. A thought came to the boy. It was not something he’d usually contemplate, but his master was getting too far ahead and it was just so tempting.

Dooof! However fast Zabuza turned to avoid the thrown projectile, Haku’s agility insured the snowball still hit him squarely across the jaw. Sighing resignedly and brushing the loose snow away from his face, the warrior stopped in his tracks and turned to face Haku.

The boy chuckled quietly and self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he wouldn’t be scolded for it. At the worst, Zabuza would cold-shoulder him for the rest of the day. Glancing half-guiltily down at his feet, Haku was somewhat surprised when a second snowball appeared out of no-where, smashing directly onto his kimono. He looked up unbelievingly at his master.

Trademark psychotic grin slowly spreading across his face, Zabuza shrugged innocently. Haku was becoming confused. Was he taking it seriously this time? It would be just like his guardian to turn any opportunity into battle training. Surely the guy wasn’t playing around. That would be so… out of character.

While the young ninja continued gaping, a mound of snow tunnelled past, knocking his feet from under him. Falling to his knees, he decided on a plan of action. So Zabuza was using jutsus… well two could play at that game!

Swiftly standing, Haku whipped up the air around him and began to spin. The dusty flakes were kicked up around his twirling feet and thrown into the air. A small snowstorm, the boy weaved backwards and forwards across the open ground. The air now thick with whiteness, he pinpointed where his master now stood and speedily nipped in, a handful of snow in both hands.

Managing to dodge the full-on attack, Zabuza didn’t notice Haku gracefully swing around mid-lunge and leap sideways. Stumbling, the two fell backwards into a large snowdrift.

As the blizzard settled, the flurries of flakes cleared to reveal the two men sprawled in the deep snow. Zabuza lay flat out in the drift and Haku had collapsed unceremoniously on top of him. With his face only inches away from that of his master’s, the young ninja froze. Delicate fingers gripped tightly to the tough flesh of the other’s broad shoulders. Tanned skin held in sharp contrast to the white droplets of snow that fell round about: warmth in a world of chill.

Freeing one of his hands, the boy scraped away some of the snow that had collapsed down over the other ninja’s eyes. In that moment, every ounce of his being urged him to tear aside Zabuza’s mask and kiss him, right then and there. His hand moved to grasp the bandages but he hesitated as an eye blinked open. Staring longingly into the dark unforgiving depths of his master’s eyes, Haku’s heart sunk. What was he thinking?


* * *

In the awkward silence, Haku tuned out the sounds of their breathing and listened to the quietness around them. No birds sung. No creatures snuffled. Even the wind was still. All that could be heard was a faint whistling, cutting through the air with a sharp accuracy and steadily drawing closer.

Hastily shifting his hand to his waistband, Haku drew three needles into his fist and sent them flying towards the oncoming sound. In the time it took for the kunai to deflect harmlessly into the frozen ground, both ninja had scrambled to their feet and assumed the defensive position.

Hunter-nin rose from their hiding places encircling the two, Wind insignia emblazoned on their masks. So it had come to this. Haku cursed himself inwardly. Maybe if he hadn’t held them up for so long these pursuers would not have found them. Well, this would be his chance to make up for that mistake.

“You think we can take them?”

Haku smiled confidently up at his well-muscled companion as the latter drew his giant blade from its holster with one hand. In way of a reply, Zabuza only growled, the psychotic smile spreading once more across his features and the pupils in his eyes reducing to pinpricks. It was going to be a tough battle amongst skilled ninja and both travellers could feel the blood-lust hanging thick in the air.

A lanky hunter-nin, distinctive in his white mask decorated with a bright red swirl, stepped forward and addressed the two exiles.

“Momochi Zabuza. You and your sub-ordinate have been apprehended and condemned by the ninja of Mist for the treachery against your homeland…”

“Treason. Attempted assassination. Murder… yada, yada, yada. Yuh think I don’t already know that you idiot! Now bring it on before I die of boredom here… okay?”

Stopping his speech, the slim hunter-nin bowed his head, and slid a long, lethal looking blade from its sheath at his side. He nodded to his fellow hunters and they too revealed their weapons. It seemed that they were planning on fighting hand-to-hand.

Needles drawn in both fists, Haku stood back-to-back with his master. He could feel the muscles tensing along the other’s back and smiled as Zabuza chuckled manically to himself. The hunter-nin were hugely underestimating them. For a second, no one moved. Then all hell broke loose.

Shuriken flew in from every angle and needles fell down from the sky with deadly accuracy. Moving like a graceful whirlwind around the circle of death, Haku formed jutsus with one hand, leaving the other free to block incoming attacks. He elegantly dodged the spurts of blood as his needles punctured the enemy’s internal organs. A kunai sliced the hem of his kimono but he kicked upwards with a free foot, snapping the attacker’s neck.

On the other side of the circle, Zabuza was clearing up nicely with his Kubikiri Houcho. Having quickly formed two water clones to confuse the enemies, he was happily hacking away at the swift hunter-nin with a macabre ease. Sometimes he hesitated for a while, baiting the masked fighters into moving closer, vanishing into a flurry of snow and then re-appearing behind to cleave them in half. Compared to his travelling companion, Zabuza was fair well drenched in the enemy’s blood.

A few fleet-footed hunter-nin and their leader had changed tactics and promptly started forming hand-seals. A twisting spiral of water arched from the lead hunter-nin’s arm and plunged downward, freezing to ice at the tip. Rolling to avoid it, Zabuza cursed as the ice shattered on the ground, sending splinters flying through the air. A large shard slammed past his waist, leaving a nasty gash.

Haku finished off the enemy on his side of the circle and managed to dodge fallout from the ice pinnacle. Worried about Zabuza’s welfare, he dodged back to the centre of the circle, cutting the throat of one stunned hunter-nin on the way back. He arrived to find Zabuza staggering slightly, but still on his feet. The boy dodged the spray of blood as his master lopped off another attacker’s head. He could tell the warrior was not in the best of moods anymore. No-longer playing with his prey, Zabuza was just anxious to finish the battle.

Staving off another opponent with a low swipe to the knee tendons and carefully placed needle in the back of the neck, Haku kept his eyes peeled for further jutsus. The first of his master’s water clones had fallen in the icicle strike and now the second one evaporated as a thin blade passed through it.

Making a dash for the leader hidden in the snow cloud, the young shinobi miscalculated his attack and narrowly missed a fatal blow from the long blade. He skidded along the ground and landed awkwardly, his foot hitting a projecting stone.

Killing the last of the small-fry hunters in a fountain of blood, Zabuza paused to wipe gore off his blade… and stopped dead in his tracks. With a thin silver sword edge glinting inches from his neck, the warrior gulped hesitantly.

“If I were you, I’d stop thinking of yourself as invincible.” A whisper came harsh and breathy in his ear, “Bastards like you always get what they deserve!”

“Screw you!” he growled back.

Metal gleamed in front of his eyes before… clattering to the ground. A gurgling splutter came from behind and the weight of his attacker slumped against his back. Turning slightly and letting the body slide to the ground, Zabuza glanced at the single needle protruding from the corpse’s head and sneered.

“So much for your so-called justice.”

Haku hobbled over to join his master and stood by his side, staring down at the corpse. His ankle hurt, but as far as he could tell, it wasn’t broken. He looked his guardian up and down for sign of injury, but he suspected that most of blood that spattered the tan skin was probably not the warrior’s own.

The snow was settling once more and new flakes were falling, soon they would cover the bodies that lay scattered over the hard earth. Haku looked forlornly down at the lead hunter-nin’s body. The man had fought bravely and had very nearly accomplished his mission. The boy knelt by the fallen man, carefully removed the mask and stared at the features underneath. The look of surprise on the poor bastard’s face scared the boy. He had seen that look before and it chilled him to the bone.

Carefully grasping the edges of the mask, Haku raised it to his face and looked out through the eye slits. It fit him almost perfectly. Smiling, he turned his face to gaze at his master.

“How’s it look?”

Zabuza raised his brows, blinked and continued cleaning his sword. Well, even if his guardian didn’t like it, Haku was going to keep it. If Zabuza got to wear his bandages constantly, then the boy thought he deserved to be able to wear the mask likewise. It was a way of hiding one’s feelings, doing one’s duty and not caring about the consequences.

Slipping off the mask, Haku got to his feet. The clean snowy landscape was gone. Turned to slush and ice in some places, it was a dirty remnant of its former splendour. But the most noticeable change was in colour. Over all was a wash of rose. Darkening in places to a deep red that soaked through to the very soul of the place. Where the snow was thin, the redness pooled and collected around the corpses.

Images permanently burned into Haku’s subconscious came rushing to the surface and threatened to engulf him. Limbs strewn around; ice pinnacles reaching skywards; the cottage around him no more than a pile of shattered planks; climbing out of the wreckage; seeing the bright red clash with pure white; running… falling… screaming.

A hand resting on his shoulder snapped him out of moment, pushing the haunting memories to the back of his mind once more. His hands were trembling, grasping hold of the red and white mask with a grip experienced only in death. Tears misted his eyes and a lump rose in his throat. Stubbornly he forced back the haze and gulped down the sobs. He was a ninja. Outward emotions were a weakness. With a deep intake of breath, the boy pulled himself together and turned to his master. Haku wasn’t sure if he saw a fleeting look of concern on the other man’s face, but it warmed him none-the-less.

“Ready to go?” Zabuza muttered gruffly.

The boy smiled, nodded, and tucked the mask into his pocket. Scooping up his fallen satchel, he waited while Zabuza finished dressing the ice wound and re-holstered his blade.

Unhindered, they could now continue to the coast and head for warmer shores. Strange then, that Haku now felt an even stronger sense of foreboding then he had whilst they were being pursued. But, like the memories of his past, he pushed these feelings to the back of his mind and the two continued on their journey to the country of Wave.