Naruto had seen a lot of blood in the last hour.
Most of it had been his.
Now it was soaking into the snow around a body that shouldn't have been still.
He stood there, chest heaving, breath fogging the air in short, ragged bursts. The bridge felt weirdly quiet—just the distant clash of Kakashi-sensei and Zabuza somewhere ahead, steel on steel, and the lap of ocean below.
Right here, the world had shrunk to white ice, red drops… and Haku.
The hunter-nin's mask lay cracked a few feet away, half-buried in slush. Long dark hair spilled across the ground. That face—soft lines, long lashes, pale skin—looked exactly like the person he'd met in the forest. The one picking herbs. The one who'd talked about "someone precious."
Naruto swallowed, throat dry and dropped to his knees beside him. He wanted to be angry. Part of him was. But under the anger was something knotty and sharp he didn't have words for. He stared for a second, then scowled and blurted it out anyway.
"You're a guy?!"
If things weren't so serious, I'd have planted my palm square in my face.
The words bounced off the ice, stupid and loud and wrong. They sounded tiny next to the silence.
Naruto winced. "I mean—whatever, that part's not—" He scrubbed a hand down his face. "You looked like a girl! And you… you were nice. And you smiled like… like someone who didn't want to kill people all the time."
His hand shook where it hovered over Haku's shoulder. He forced it to still.
"You said all you needed was to be useful," he whispered. "Like that was enough. Like that was… good."
Snowflakes drifted down, catching in Haku's hair.
Naruto's stomach twisted. He thought of training grounds, and cold stares, and villagers turning away. Of people who only looked at him to say what a nuisance he was.
If someone had come along then and said "you can matter if you're useful to me"… yeah. He knew exactly how that would've sounded.
"You're an idiot," Naruto said, very softly. "You should've… you should've wanted more than that."
The wind picked up, carrying the distant sound of Kakashi's jutsu—water crashing, a whirl of chakra that raised the hairs on Naruto's arms.
He flinched, looking up. The fog ahead glowed with scattered light. The fight was still going.
Naruto clenched his fists.
"I…" He looked back down at Haku, guilt gnawing at his chest. "I'm not gonna let it end like this. Not with him just calling you a tool and walking away."
His legs protested when he stood. He ignored them.
"Sleep or whatever," he muttered. "I'm gonna go punch your boss in the face for you."
He turned and ran.
Just in time to miss Haku's chest heave.
The fog got thicker the closer he got to the main fight. The air tasted like metal and ozone. Every few seconds the mist lit up with flashes of chakra—Kakashi's blue-white lightning, Zabuza's heavy killing intent pressing like a weight on Naruto's skin.
He burst out onto the center of the bridge in time to see Kakashi's hand blazing with electricity.
"Raikiri," Kakashi said, voice low and lethal.
He lunged.
Zabuza moved to block—but something else moved faster.
A blur of white and black interposed itself between them.
For a second, Naruto's brain refused to understand what he was seeing.
Then Haku was there again, between Kakashi and Zabuza, arms spread.
The lightning blade punched straight through his chest.
Time snapped.
"H–HAKU?!" Naruto's scream tore out of his throat.
Kakashi's eye went wide. The chakra around his hand sputtered and died as he yanked his arm back, horror twisting his face. Haku swayed, blood blooming across his chest, then crumpled.
He hit the ground in a careful heap, as if he'd tried to fall neatly.
Zabuza stared down at him.
The Demon of the Mist looked… wrong without his sword. Smaller somehow. His bandages were frayed and red. For once, there was no manic grin, no taunting sneer.
Just a blank, stunned face above that fog of killing intent.
"Haku," he rasped. His voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel. "You… fool."
Naruto's hands shook.
He remembered Haku's voice in the ice dome, calm and gentle even as senbon tore into their skin: "Because I am useful to him."
He remembered the soft way Haku had talked about his "precious person" in the forest. Like that was the only thing that held him to the world.
His precious person was standing over him now, staring like someone had moved the ground.
"You used him," Naruto choked out.
The words ripped free before he could stop them.
"You used him and he still—he still jumped in front of you!"
Zabuza didn't look at him. His gaze was fixed on Haku's body.
Naruto's breath hitched.
"Say something!" he shouted. "He died for you!"
Zabuza's fingers twitched once on the hilt of his sword. His chakra—cold, brutal, thick as fog—didn't move at all.
"Shut up, brat," he said roughly. "This is the life of a tool. He knew that."
Naruto saw red.
"Tool," he repeated, disbelief turning acid. "You're calling him a tool? After everything he—"
A slow clap echoed through the mist.
Everyone turned.
Gato walked out onto the bridge like he was taking a casual stroll. Short, soft, wrapped in rich fabrics that didn't belong in the chill air. Thugs trailed behind him, a mess of weapons and ugly grins.
"Well, well," Gato said. "Looks like I got my money's worth after all."
He stepped right up to Haku's body and nudged it with his cane like he was checking a sack of rice.
Naruto's fingers curled so tight his nails bit into his palms.
"Hey," he snarled. "Get away from him."
Gato didn't even glance at him. His eyes were on Zabuza, sharp and amused.
"You failed," Gato said. "You were supposed to kill the bridge builder, not play around with Leaf brats until you got beaten."
He gave the cane another little jab.
"Pathetic. You're not a demon. You're just a dog I fed for a while."
The thugs laughed.
Something in Naruto's chest tore.
He took a step forward, only to have Kakashi's arm bar out to block him. Kakashi's chakra was a strained, ragged thing, barely held together. His visible eye was hard and flat.
Zabuza finally looked up.
He looked at Gato, then down at Haku again.
Naruto wasn't Sylvie—he didn't feel chakra like colors and textures—but even he could see something crack in the man's face. The neutral mask didn't hold. For a second, something raw and ugly twisted through his expression.
Gato didn't notice. Or didn't care.
"I don't need you anymore," the little tyrant went on. "I've got all these men, and you're crippled without your little pet." He gestured lazily. "Kill them all. We'll hang their heads off the bridge for decoration."
The thugs started forward, weapons raised.
Naruto could feel fear rising off the villagers behind them, and something else—despair, thick and familiar. The same flavor as Wave's streets. The same as Inari's eyes when he'd said heroes always died.
Naruto's blood roared in his ears.
"Stop it," he growled, voice low and shaking.
No one listened.
He shoved Kakashi's arm aside and moved up beside Zabuza, planting himself between Haku's body and Gato's advancing men.
"I said," Naruto shouted, lungs burning, "STOP IT!"
That time, the bridge listened.
Half the thugs faltered, thrown off by the sheer volume. Gato blinked, annoyed.
Naruto sucked in a breath.
"You think he was just your tool?" he yelled at Zabuza, pointing back at Haku with a trembling hand. "Some… some weapon you could throw away?"
Zabuza's visible eye flicked to him, warning, but Naruto didn't care.
"He was a person!" Naruto went on. "He had feelings. He—he smiled when we talked about precious people. He cared about you so much it hurt to look at him!"
His voice broke. He pushed through it anyway.
"And you stood there and let that bastard"—he jabbed a finger at Gato—"kick him like trash!"
Somewhere off to the side, he heard Sylvie's sharp inhale. He didn't look; if he saw her face right now, he was pretty sure he'd fall apart.
"You're supposed to be this big scary demon, right?" Naruto said, glaring up at Zabuza. "But you're just standing there. Haku believed in you. He gave up everything for you! He didn't care if he lived as long as you were okay!"
The words echoed back at him.
He thought of lonely afternoons on the swing, of villagers' backs. Of Sylvie's steady presence at his side, paint on her fingers and deadpan mutters when the world kicked him again.
"What's the point of being strong," Naruto demanded, "if you treat the people who believe in you like they're nothing?"
Zabuza's hand closed slowly into a fist.
Naruto's throat burned. His eyes stung.
"Tools don't cry when you get hurt," he said. "Tools don't throw themselves in front of you because they care. People do that. Friends do that."
His voice dropped.
"He loved you, you idiot."
The mist seemed to pull tighter around them. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Zabuza's shoulders shook once.
When he lifted his head again, his expression had split wide open.
Tears cut tracks through the blood on his cheeks. His chakra—what Naruto could feel of it, just the oppressive weight filling the air—had changed. The killing intent was still there, but underneath it something jagged and bright was bleeding through.
"…Brat," Zabuza rasped. "You talk too much."
Naruto sniffed, dragging an arm across his face.
"Yeah?" he said. "Do something about it then."
Zabuza stared at him for one more second. At Kakashi. At Haku.
Then he moved.
Slowly, as if the weight of his body had doubled, he reached down and picked up a kunai. His fingers flexed on the handle like he wasn't used to something that light.
"Gato," he said.
The crime boss sneered. "What, you still got something to say, dog?"
Zabuza put the blade between his teeth.
"Yeah," he said around the metal. His voice was muffled, but the intent in it was clear. "I'm going to kill you."
He charged.
Zabuza hit the mob like a storm.
He had no sword, no backup, half his body already cut and bruised, but he moved like every step was fueled by something beyond muscle. Knives and spears slammed into him; he took them and kept going.
Blood sprayed. Men screamed. Gato started shouting orders that turned into shrieks when Zabuza finally broke through and plowed straight into him.
Naruto didn't see the exact moment Zabuza got his hands on him. There was a flash of movement, a wet sound, and then Gato was airborne for a heartbeat before crashing over the edge of the bridge, tumbling into the sea below.
Zabuza swayed.
For a second, he stood there like a statue made of wounds and stubbornness, backlit by the fog. Then he turned, dragging himself back across the slick concrete toward Haku.
Naruto's chest hurt just watching him.
By the time Zabuza reached Haku's body, his steps were ragged. Weapons stuck out of him at wrong angles; blood left a smeared path behind him.
He collapsed onto his knees beside Haku, breathing harsh and uneven.
Naruto found himself walking closer without meaning to. Sylvie was there ahead of him, quiet as a ghost, her glasses speckled with mist.
She didn't say anything. Neither did he.
Zabuza looked down at Haku's face like he was seeing it for the first time.
"Hey," he muttered hoarsely. "It's… cold out here, huh?"
His hand shook as it hovered, then finally came down to brush a strand of hair away from Haku's eyes.
"I… never told you," he went on, words thick. "Tch. Always thought it was pointless. But…"
He swallowed.
"You were… more than a tool," he forced out. "You… were my partner."
The words seemed to cost him more than the wounds.
Naruto's throat closed up.
Zabuza leaned forward, coughing, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. His eye flicked to Naruto, then away again.
"Brat," he said quietly. "You win. Talked me into… feeling this crap again. Hope you're… happy."
Naruto didn't trust his voice, so he just nodded.
Zabuza huffed something that might have been a laugh.
He slumped down beside Haku, his large hand settling over the smaller one. The fog thickened around them.
By the time it cleared a little, the Demon of the Mist had gone still.
I'd never seen that much red outside of a paint box.
It was everywhere—splashed across the bridge, smeared where Zabuza had dragged himself, sprinkled in a loose halo around Haku's body. It soaked into the mist and the air and the edges of my vision.
My hands shook anyway.
I only realized I was holding a bandage roll when it slipped a little, the linen trailing like a stupid white flag.
Too late for that.
Kakashi-sensei was already moving through the aftermath, taking stock, checking for survivors, making sure the remaining thugs understood that today was not the day to try anything brave. Naruto stood a few steps away from Haku and Zabuza, fists clenched, shoulders rigid, his chakra blazing raw and bright.
Mine felt… thin. Stretched. Like the inside of my skull had been sandpapered by too much fear and too many jutsu in too little time.
But there was one last thing I could do.
I knelt beside Haku.
Up close, he looked even younger. Funny how a mask could make someone seem ageless and a few inches of exposed throat could yank them right back into "boy who should've been at home with a blanket and a book instead of dying on a bridge for a mobster."
His eyes were still half-open, clouded over.
Carefully, with a thumb and forefinger that wouldn't stop trembling, I reached out and slid his lids shut.
It was a tiny, human motion in the middle of all this ridiculous shinobi theater. No seals, no chakra, no cleverness. Just… courtesy.
Still, the moment my fingers brushed his skin, that instinctive part of me that tracked emotions on contact woke up.
Haku's chakra—what was left of it—was faint and scattered. Like ink washed almost completely away by too much water. The echoes hurt to touch: pain and devotion twisted together so tightly they were almost the same color.
Underneath all of it was a strange, clean emptiness. Anger draining out. Fear fading.
No more being someone's "tool."
My throat got tight.
Beside him, Zabuza's chakra was already almost gone, sinking into the same quiet. What lingered was jagged and surprisingly… soft. Not gentle, exactly, but cracked open in a way that made my chest hurt.
He'd died with his hand over Haku's.
I didn't have to like what they'd done to appreciate what that meant.
Behind me, Naruto took a shaky breath.
"I didn't… want it to go like this," he muttered. His voice sounded scraped raw. "I just… I just didn't want him to be treated like garbage."
I didn't look up yet. If I did, I might accidentally say something that stepped on what he'd just done.
Naruto's words were the thing that mattered here. He'd been the one to dig under Zabuza's armor and drag whatever was left of his heart out into the open. Kakashi's lightning had made the holes; Naruto's stupid, honest yelling had actually hit the target.
Me? I was just the cleanup crew.
So I kept my focus small and practical.
I folded Haku's arms over his chest. Straightened the torn collar of his clothes. I didn't have flowers or pretty fabrics or any of the things funerals were supposed to get, so I did what I could with linen and hands that knew how to dress wounds.
"Sleep well," I whispered, mostly for myself. "You deserved better than Gato."
A beat of quiet.
"That hunter-nin?" Naruto's voice came from just over my shoulder now. Closer than before. "He… he I thought he was a girl."
He sounded puzzled more than anything. Hurt, but not in the dramatic way a certain type of boy back home would've gone "ew, gross" about it. Just… trying to sort the mental boxes out.
I sat back on my heels and finally looked at him.
Naruto's face was blotchy from crying, smeared with blood and dirt. Senbon marks dotted his skin like ugly, swollen freckles. His eyes were still fierce.
"He told me his purpose was to be useful to someone precious," Naruto said, frowning. "I don't get how you can be okay with that."
He wasn't really asking me. Still, my brain decided to answer.
"So gender really is more complicated here," I thought. "Good."
Back in my first life, a lot of people liked to pretend there were neat little boxes with labels. Boy, girl, normal, weird. Tools, monsters, heroes. Nice straight lines, easy to file.
Standing on a half-finished bridge in a land ruled by a greedy little man who'd just been murdered by his own hired demon, looking down at a boy who'd presented like a girl and died for love… the boxes looked even more ridiculous than usual.
Out loud, I kept it simple.
"I don't think he was actually okay with it," I said. "I think he just decided that was the only way he got to stay alive. Or… needed."
Naruto's jaw clenched.
"That sucks," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "It does."
He sank down beside me in a graceless crouch, hugging his arms around his knees. For a second, up this close, his chakra brushed against mine—hot and chaotic and still flavored with something I wanted to label "fox" and then immediately shove into a box labeled "later panic."
I could feel the echo of what had happened when Sasuke went down, too. That moment when Naruto's chakra spiked into something red and vast and raging. Not all the way loose, not yet. Just a crack in the door.
I pretended not to notice.
"So… Haku was a guy," Naruto said slowly. "But he kinda… wasn't? I don't know. He just… was."
He made a frustrated noise and scrubbed his hair.
"I liked him," he admitted. "Before all this. He was… soft. In a nice way. Even when he was talking about killing us, he didn't look happy about it."
I thought about Haku in the forest—delicate hands sorting herbs, that small, sad smile. The way his chakra had unfolded when he talked about being useful, like he was laying his heart on a chopping block and saying "look, isn't this lovely."
I thought about looking down at my own hands in that hospital bed years ago, realizing they were smaller and smoother and more right than anything I'd ever owned.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I liked him too."
The wind skated across the bridge, carrying the distant sound of waves and, faintly, voices from the village. We'd have to deal with all of that soon. Bodies, Gato's leftover thugs, a traumatized country.
For now, though, the world had narrowed to two corpses and two stupid kids trying to make sense of what they'd just watched.
Kakashi limped over eventually, one hand in his pocket, the other resting lightly on his leg.
"We'll… make sure they're buried," he said, voice soft. "Properly. Not dumped in the ocean like trash."
Naruto nodded, eyes fixed on Haku and Zabuza.
"They were our enemies," Kakashi went on. "But they were also… shinobi. They chose their paths. And in the end…"
He trailed off. I could feel his chakra twitch around the word "tools" and veer away. He'd used that language himself once, in a different context. This probably hurt more than he'd ever admit.
"In the end," he finished, "they remembered they were people too."
I looked at him.
His Sharingan was covered again, hitai-ate pulled down. He'd given up a lot of chakra today. More than was safe. Underneath the usual lazy slouch, his whole aura felt frayed.
"You should sit down before you fall down," I said.
He gave me a faint eye-smile. "Noted."
He did sit, though, a few feet away, keeping quiet vigil while Tazuna and the remaining workers slowly crept back onto the bridge, staring at the aftermath.
Inari was among them, eyes huge, lips pressed tight. I followed his gaze to where Gato's body had disappeared over the edge, then back to Zabuza.
"Monsters kill monsters," I thought. "And the rest of us try to build something on the bones."
…Fun thought. Very uplifting.
I shifted, feeling the ache in my legs catch up with me. The bandage roll was still crumpled in one fist. Without really thinking about it, I tore off a thin strip and tied it gently around Haku's wrist—a makeshift bracelet, white and neat against pale skin.
It wasn't a seal. It wasn't anything, really.
Just a reminder.
Naruto watched me do it.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Everything. I don't know."
He huffed out a tired sound that might have been a laugh.
"You're weird," he said.
"Accurate."
We stayed like that for a while—me, Naruto, Kakashi, and two dead men who'd finally stopped being weapons long enough to die like something else.
The mist began to lift.
Somewhere down the line, this bridge would get a proper name. People would tell stories about it. About the Demon of the Mist's last charge. About the kid who yelled at him until he cried.
About the loud, ridiculous orphan who turned "tool" into "person" by sheer force of stubbornness.
When that happened, I wanted to remember this part too.
The quiet.
The way Haku's chakra had gone still in my hands, taking the rage with it.
The feeling in my chest when I realized that in this world, just like my last one, you could be soft and devoted and deadly and a boy and a girl and neither and still have all of that boiled down to "useful" by someone who needed you more than they knew.
I pressed my palms together for a second, as if I was holding something fragile between them.
"…Goodnight, Haku," I thought, not daring to say it out loud. "Next time, I hope you get to choose more."
Naruto sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Hey," he said. "When I'm Hokage… I'm gonna make it so kids don't have to live like that. Tools and weapons and… all that crap."
He stared out over the water, jaw set.
"I don't know how yet," he admitted. "But I will."
I believed him.
Not because the story said so, but because I could feel his chakra burning with it—stubborn, furious hope, bright enough to hurt.
"Okay," I said. "Then I'll make sure you live long enough to be annoying as Hokage."
He glanced at me, blinking, and for a second the corner of his mouth twitched up.
"Deal," he said.
The bridge wind tugged at our clothes, cold and salty and real.
Tools, monsters, men, women, whatever else the world tried to call us—standing there on the Great-Nameless-For-Now Bridge, covered in someone else's blood, I decided one thing for sure:
Orders could go to hell.
People mattered more.