I woke up before the others.
The mist was thinner, drifting lazily across the field like silk. I slipped out quietly, boots crunching faintly on the frost-damp grass, and walked until I found the river.
The water was still.
A mirror.
And on the other side stood a boy with long dark hair, kneeling quietly by the bank, collecting herbs in a woven basket.
He looked up. Not startled. Just... curious.
"You're not from here," I said.
He smiled softly. "Neither are you."
---
He crossed the shallow stream barefoot.
No noise. No threat.
He moved like mist.
And yet, there was a softness to him—graceful hands, kind eyes, voice like the hush before snowfall.
"What's your name?" I asked.
He tilted his head. "Does it matter?"
"It might."
"Then… you can call me Haku."
---
We talked.
About flowers. Healing. The way winter lingers in the Land of Waves like a promise that never quite breaks.
"You're strong," Haku said. "But your body is strange."
I stiffened.
He smiled. "I can feel it. You're training for something your muscles aren't used to. Like you've only just begun to carry a burden you've always had."
I stared at him.
He knew.
Or sensed something, anyway.
But he didn't press.
He offered me a sprig of wild mint instead.
"For the cold," he said. "And for clarity."
I took it.
"Thanks."
He looked up at the sky.
"You fight to protect someone, don't you?"
I blinked. "What makes you say that?"
He looked at me then, really looked.
With eyes that saw too much.
"Because that's what I do, too."
---
He left without another word.
Just vanished into the trees.
The mist swallowed him whole.
And somehow, it felt like I'd spoken to a spirit.
---
Back at the house, Kakashi was awake again. Weak, but alert.
"The real fight's coming," he said simply. "Zabuza's alive."
We nodded.
No panic. No shock.
Just cold resolve.
Sasuke: "We'll be ready."
Naruto: "We have to be."
Me: "He's not alone."
Kakashi looked at me sharply.
"There's another," I said. "He's… not what he seems."
---
Later that night, I wrote in the journal again.
Entry 2:
> Haku.
Beautiful. Soft-spoken.
Kind enough to share herbs.
Strong enough to kill.
He and I—we both fight to protect.
But one of us will have to break the other.
And I don't know if I'm ready.