Never Before Noticed...

A/N: I don't know whether or not I should continue this story. Let me know your thoughts about it. ^^

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“Zabuza-chan.”

Zabuza glanced over his shoulder towards the voice that had called his name. Upon seeing who it was, Zabuza turned back to what he was doing before; sharpening his stash of weapons infinitely more important than the missing nin behind him.

“As social as ever, I see,” rasped the other, his scarred throat distorting his voice. “Are you here to audition for the job with the rest of us poor slobs?”

Several missing nins and common mercenaries were scattered about the court yard, waiting to be interviewed by an attendant of the local crime lord. The job he wanted completed contained a high level of difficulty and personal risk for whomever attempted it, but that had very little effect on the turn out of willing men for hire (the crime lord was offering enough money to blind even the most cautious against danger). Zabuza and this other, Mirko, were without question the strongest among the hopefuls.

“Not going to answer me, Zabuza-chan?” You could hear the greasy amusement in the missing-nin's tone. Mirko had occasionally crossed paths with the stoic Zabuza through the years, working as they both did in the same racket. Mirko loved to get a rise out of those around him—a habit that had led to receiving most of the scars littering his skin. “You might as well forget this commission, Zabuza-chan, we both know I'm the better man for the job.” He would have followed his statement with a pat to the masked shinobi's shoulder, but found that he was unable to move.

“Please refrain from touching Zabuza-san.”

Mirko lifted an eyebrow in surprise at the person that held him immobile with just a small hand wrapped around his wrist. The newcomer removed the precise, firm grip on his wrist to stand at Zabuza's side. Mirko rubbed at his arm, able to move once more. Amazed at the expert use of pressure points that had frozen him.

The newcomer's face was entirely hidden by a hard mask, where as Zabuza's was only half covered by a mask of cloth wrappings. The mask made it nearly impossible to tell the persons gender. The voice had been soft and cherubic (belonging to neither sex specifically). The person's black glossy hair was mostly tied up, but what wasn't hung long and feminine on either side of the hidden face. The slight figure appeared flat enough to belong to a boy, but was mostly hidden to the eye beneath the lose teal and grey clothes. Mirko's ugly face fractured into his approximation of a smile. “What's this, Zabuza-chan? It seems that you no longer travel alone. Is this your apprentice? Or just someone you keep around to be a good time on the side?” Both Zabuza and the other ignored Mirko's leer.

The missing nin turned to shout over his shoulder, “Oi! Anaski! Over here, boy.” A pimply youth, with darty, ferret eyes, soon reached Mirko's side. Mirko grabbed the young man by the shoulder, and squeezed him against his side with one hand. “I'd like you to meet my apprentice. His name's Anaski, but I just call him useless.” The missing nin let out a loud gawaf, that sounded like a bark with his skewed voice. “What's your little playmate's name, Zabuza-chan?”

Just when it seemed as if no answer was forthcoming, the masked attacker spoke. “I'm Haku.”

Again, the name did nothing to confirm the shinobi's gender one way or the other. Mirko decided to give up on trying to guess. “Say, why don't we ditch the kids to play a game of bones, while we wait our turn like good boys? I remember you were always up for a good gamble.” Haku looked questionally to Zabuza, who nodded, before leaving the older shinobi to their game of chance. Anaski, who obviously held no doubt in his mind about Haku's gender (do to his blatant attempts to straighten his rumbled clothes and hair), followed.
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“Haku, what are you doing?”

“I wish to please you, Zabuza-san.”

Thunder rumbled in Zabuza's tone as he asked, “Who told you to do this?”

“Anaski. He said that masters expected such services from their apprentices. He told me it would please you, as it pleased his master. I wish to please Zabuza-san.”

Zabuza slapped Haku's slight, white hands away from the clasp of his belt, and forcibly pulled him up off his knees by the boy's slim shoulders. “Never do this again, understand.” The missing-nin's eyes had become hard, but not towards Haku. 'Fucking Mirko. Sick bastard.' “I do not require such services from you.”

“I only wished to please, Zabuza-san. I am sorry if I have angered, Zabuza-san.”

“It's alright, Haku, just never again—understand?”

“Hai, Zabuza-san.”
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The incident passed, but not without leaving a weight in Zabuza's mind. Anaski had been right when he'd told Haku about what most masters expected from their apprentices, but Zabuza had never considered it. He'd taken in Haku when the child was so young...even before he'd known that the boy had innate skill at nin-jutsu. Haku wasn't his ward though. The boy, despite his age, had needed no looking after. He'd never needed comforting from scrapped knees or bad nightmares; Zabuza had never had to coddle or father the boy—which was perfect as he knew how to do neither. The inner strength exhibited by Haku was impressive. For doing nothing more than bringing him in from the cold, like a stray puppy, Haku had offered unwavering loyalty. If Zabuza had so wished, he could have turned the boy into a slave—and no complaint would ever have been uttered. Instead, the missing-nin had decided to train Haku, to teach him every thing from hunting to jutsu. Now Haku was a sharp knife, honed to perfection—a knife that wanted nothing more than to be used as a tool for whatever purpose his master saw fit. Zabuza excepted this. Self-serving and introverted, Zabuza took Haku's wish to be useful to him without thought.

Now Zabuza did think. Haku wasn't family, but there was a connection. From the first moment Zabuza had seen Haku on the snow covered bridge that winter, he'd felt a pull somewhere inside himself (he hesitated to say he'd felt it in his soul, as he didn't believe in the existence of one). It was like a tug on a string that was directly connected to the boy's innocent eyes. It was this that had caused him to take the boy under his arm without a second thought.

Zabuza growled to himself, unable to rid his mind of Haku's image, kneeling in that submissive way before him. “Fucking Mirko...”
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“Does Zabuza-san wish something of me?”

Shit, he'd been staring again.

“No, Haku, return to your studies.”

“Hai, Zabuza-san.” With that, Haku once more directed his attention to the tome on acupuncture in his lap. Haku's knowledge of the manipulation of pressure points within the body was unrivaled for one his age, but new experiments were constantly being conducted. He liked to stay abreast with current findings; even if the original intent of the healers had been for this knowledge to be used for helping people, instead of harming them.

Zabuza returned to his endurance building exercises, continuing to steal glances at his protoge. Now that he was looking, it was quite obvious that Haku was a physically beautiful person—though in a disturbingly feminine way. When he'd first given the boy the oval mask he wore on missions, he'd thought only to hide Haku's age, not his features. If an enemy saw how young their opponent was, they might be tempted to underestimate him. Zabuza didn't want that. He'd wanted those ruthless men to attack Haku with all they had, to build his strength—no apprentice of his would be weak. Now, in hindsight, the missing-nin wondered what he'd have done if one of those men had actually killed Haku.

Nonsense. He'd have stepped in before something like that would have happened. Switching to push-ups, Zabuza told himself that he hadn't felt his heart stop at the thought of Haku dead and bleeding.
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It had come as no surprise to Zabuza, that the crime lord had chosen him to complete the mission. It just surprised him that he'd chosen Mirko first.

Zabuza could still see his smug smirk, and he felt glad somewhere in his dark heart that Mirko was no longer walking the earth, a nuisance.

On that day, when they'd played bones in the crime lord's courtyard, Mirko had been given the commission. Oh, how he'd gloated. Now, merely a week latter, Zabuza received word of the other missing-nin's failure and death. The crime lord now wanted to hire the Demon in the Snow. Zabuza had considered turning him down on principle—he was nobody's second choice—but, logically, he knew it was too good of a deal to refuse. Once this mission was completed, and word spread of his skill, he'd never want for clients. Zabuza had accepted.

The target he was meant to eliminate would arrive at a small village inside Rock Country within two to three days. Zabuza quickly decided to wait with in the village itself, as the target, after Mirko's failure especially, would undoubtedly be on constant alert while on the road. Donning a simple grey yukata, one he used for disguising his profession, and adjusting his wrappings to hide his strange teeth, Zabuza made ready to enter the village. Haku did the same, changing from his usual garb into a familiar sleeveless, pink kimono. Zabuza had seen that kimono often, Haku usually wore it when he wasn't training. It hadn't seemed important enough to question before, but now the missing nin wondered, as his apprentice let down his long hair, why the boy would wear a pink kimono?

With his straight, dark hair about his shoulders, and the soft, pastel fabric cinched at the boy's slender waist, Haku looked like a beautiful girl.

“Why do you wear that, Haku?” Zabuza kept his eyes pointed straight ahead as they walked along the road, as if he wasn't really interested in the answer.

“Civilian wear will disguise us among the ofter villagers, keeping the target from immediately suspecting us.”

Zabuza experience a twitch of annoyance. “This I know, Haku. What I meant was, why do you wear that kimono instead of something else?”

“I apologize for misunderstanding, Zabuza-san.”

Zabuza waved away the polite bow, more eager to hear the answer than he'd ever admit.

“I wear this, because it is beautiful.”

Zabuza furrowed his brow, uncomprehending.

Haku took this as a need to elaborate. “The flowers,” Haku said, pointing to the buds embroidered in the fabric, “are particularly pretty.”

“The life of a shinobi is neither beautiful nor filled with pretty things.”

Haku smiled. “I know that, Zabuza-san--that's why I wear this.”

Zabuza turned away, heading toward's the village gate.

Catching up, Haku added, “I also find beauty in serving Zabuza-san.”

Zabuza continued walking, finding himself unable to speak.
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The shinobi walked the length of the village. It really was small, only two long streets, one for residences and one for businesses; more of a rest stop on the road between Rock Country and Suna than a village. It came as no surprise to Zabuza that one of the target's hired men was already waiting there for his master (undoubtedly sent ahead to scout out danger).

“Should we spend the night at the Inn, Zabuza-san? We would be able to keep a close watch on the hired man that way, as he already has a room there.”

Zabuza caught himself looking at Haku again, blatantly staring at the youth. Growling to himself, he forced his eyes away. Had it really been that long since he'd been with a woman, that he was thinking of his apprentice in such a way? “No, we won't be staying at the Inn.”

“Are we to set up camp outside the city walls, with the transients that can't afford to rent a room? Mingling among them would decrease our chances of being noticed.”

“No,” Zabuza said curtly, “we won't be staying there either.”

Haku's smooth brow crinkled in confusion, “Then whe—”

“Here.”

Haku's eyes traveled up the discrete, yet somehow gaudy, building the missing-nin indicated, and tactfully chose to ask no more questions; only an idiot would need to know the reasoning for staying at a whore house.

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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think, and if you'd like me to continue the story!