As the moonlight filtered through the trees, cold silver brushing against the sleeping earth, Haku knelt beside the bed where Zabuza rested. The room was silent except for the rhythmic sound of his breathing… and hers.
He opened one eye. "You're late."
Haku didn't flinch. "I stayed for dinner."
"Hmph." Zabuza sat up slowly, every muscle stiff and crackling with tension. But he didn't groan. Pain was old company. It reminded him that he hadn't lost yet. That there was still a game to play.
He fixed her with that hard, calculating gaze—the one that stripped excuses down to bone."I heard about your little friendship."
Haku's eyes flicked away.
He chuckled. Not angrily. Not bitter. Just... amused."The redhead, huh? Of all the fools to get close to."
Haku kept her voice low, guarded. "He's… kind. Not like others."
"And you think kindness will keep us alive?" Zabuza growled, leaning forward. "This isn't a tea party, Haku. It's war. And that bridge is the battlefield. That boy? He's just another piece on it."
He rose to his feet, swaying only slightly, and walked to the window, arms crossed behind his back like a general surveying a map only he could see."If he trusts you, good. If he lowers his guard, even better. Let him think you're his friend. Let him hand you his heart—so we can crush it when the time comes."
Haku didn't speak. Her hands curled slightly in her lap. There was a knot in her chest she couldn't untangle.
Because Naruto hadn't handed her his heart.
He had shared it.
In quiet training sessions. In late-night talks. In moments where he saw her—not as a weapon, not as Zabuza's tool—but as a person. And Haku, so used to being invisible, was now terrified of being seen.
Zabuza turned. His voice is softer now, but heavier. "You're not weak, Haku. You're mine. You do what needs to be done. That's why I raised you."
Haku finally met his gaze. There was no fear in her eyes. Just conflict."…What if I don't want to hurt him?"
The silence was deafening. For a second, Zabuza's eyes flared—anger? No. Something older. Sadder.
Then, in a voice that sounded like cracked stone, he said,"Then I've failed you."
And with that, he walked past her and into the darkness beyond the curtain, leaving Haku alone—beneath the weight of her choices, beneath the moonlight that now felt colder than ever.
From that night onward… Haku vanished.
No quiet footsteps at the door. No soft greetings during dinner. No gentle voice in the wind saying, "Good night, Naruto."
She was just… gone.
Naruto noticed first. Of course he did.
The next morning, he paced around the house, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "She probably just overslept," he muttered, loud enough for Karin to hear. "Or maybe she had something to do. She'll show up."
She didn't.
That evening, he went looking—checking by the riverside, beneath the tree where they used to talk, even back toward the trail that led into the forest. Karin trailed behind him, arms crossed and face unreadable. Not jealous. Just… confused. And a little worried.
On the third day, Sasuke finally rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Maybe she got bored and left."
Naruto spun around, red hair flaring with the wind. "She wouldn't do that."
"Oh? And how do you know?" Sasuke leaned back against the wall, unimpressed.
"Because she said she wanted to see the bridge done," Naruto snapped. "She wanted to stay until then. She said she liked being around us."
Tsunami looked at them quietly from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Even Inari peeked from the stairs, unusually silent.
Then Kakashi's voice came from the doorway, low but firm. "Enough."
Everyone turned.
"If Haku wanted to be found, she would've left a message," Kakashi said, stepping forward with that lazy seriousness only he could pull off. "If not… then we wait."
Naruto clenched his fists. "What if something happened?"
"We don't know that." Kakashi's visible eye narrowed. "What we do know is that chasing after someone who's hiding will only drive them further away."
The silence that followed was heavy—like a storm just waiting to crack.
Karin finally broke it. "…Maybe she had a reason."
Naruto turned to her.
Karin didn't look back. "People don't just vanish without one."
"Okay," Naruto said, his tone steady, but not without weight. "Then we wait till the bridge is finished. If she still doesn't return… We'll search for her."
No one challenged him. Not Tazuna. Not Kakashi. Not even Sasuke, who crossed his arms and looked away, quietly agreed in his own brooding fashion.
Naruto turned, his face composed, his posture loose and casual. But inside… his gut was knotted like a bad ramen recipe. The kind Ichiraku would never serve.
He wasn't dumb. Far from it. The moment Haku disappeared, without so much as a goodbye or even a hint, he knew. Not guessed. Knew.
Zabuza had found out.
And with a man like that, emotions weren't sacred. They were a strategy.
A weak point to strike. A connection to exploit.
Inside his mind, Aurora's voice chimed in—soft, but unwavering.
[Haku might be in internal turmoil… whether to follow Zabuza's orders, or protect you. She's choosing between her past and her present. Between her master… and you.]
Naruto's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Yes," he murmured to himself, voice barely above a whisper. "That might be the case…"
He stood still for a moment longer, caught in a swirl of thought.
And then, as he lay beneath the whispering ceiling beams of Tazuna's home, Naruto made his decision.
He would trust Haku.
No matter what path she chose—whether she returned with open arms or faced him across a battlefield—he would trust her heart to know what was right. Because bonds… true bonds… weren't about control. They were about belief.
And Naruto believed in her.
Weeks drifted by, like petals carried by a slow river. Time, for once, was kind.
The bridge rose, proud and unyielding, stretching over the water like hope made tangible. Already 90% completed—it stood as a monument to perseverance, sweat, and shared dreams.
In a week or so, the last nail would be driven. The final board placed. And the path from Nami no Kuni to the rest of the world would finally be real.
Kakashi was back on his feet, a lazy smile back on his masked face, though the faint strain in his movements revealed he hadn't entirely shaken off his wounds. Still, he was Kakashi—equal parts mystery and mirth.
Sasuke, now free from his unwilling nurse duty, had returned to his brooding exercises, sometimes sparring with Kakashi, other times meditating under waterfalls like a drama king with a vendetta.
Karin, meanwhile, had become Tsunami's shadow in the kitchen.
She wasn't slicing onions like a pro yet, and her stir-fry still lacked soul, but she could now make edible rice and a solid miso soup without setting anything on fire. That alone was a win.
But more importantly—she was committed. Not just to Naruto, but to growing for herself.
She had tasted a kind of peace here—a rhythm far removed from the pain of her past. And now, she chased that rhythm like a melody she didn't want to forget.
And as for Naruto…
He had learned the way of beams and boards, ropes and rivets. His hands were calloused, his back sore, but his heart—strong.
Tazuna, once shouting every two minutes, now only grunted in approval, sometimes even nodding with genuine pride.
"Guess I won't need to babysit you anymore, brat," he muttered one afternoon as Naruto tightened the last bolt on a support rig.
Naruto just grinned, wiping sweat from his red bangs. "Nah, you'll miss me yelling back when I screw up."
Tazuna chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Maybe I will."
They were changing. Slowly, quietly. Like the tide.
But the air… carried something new now. A tension, soft but growing. The kind of silence before a storm.
And everyone felt it.
Even if no one dared say it yet.