Momochi Solitude

Ch. 1: My lifelong friend, Solitude.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of it's characters. However, Asami is mine.

Zabuza stood over the graves neatly made on the edge of a cliff somewhere in Nami no Kuni. People from Konoha were too nice, weren't they? Graves for shinobi were as good as saying food for the dead. Yet here lay Haku, the innocent little boy he so wrongly raised, and himself, or the supposed dead carcass of himself under the great Kubikiri Boucho. He ran a finger over his bare jaw. Of course, he couldn't be out in the wild presumably dead without so much of a disguise can he? Well, if you can call what he came up with a disguise really. He had his face out in the open, his forehead protecter stowed away safely in his backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair neat and down now, rather than flying up because of his original way of tying the forehead protector slanted across his head. One single ruby earring hung from his left ear. It's shine was magnificent, radiating in the sunset. A simple open black jacket, exposing his bandaged abdomen. Simple black pants; in this attire he was no more than an innocent traveller, if he indeed was successful in masking his own chakura. As the sun went down and he cast the graves a final glance, he realized,

He was alone again.

It was not a novel experience, it had happened many a time before. He was with someone from a brief amount of time, then he was alone. That was the pattern of his life. Only now, after Haku, and that loud bundle of orange, Naruto, he didn't think he appreciated the solitude anymore. The story of his survival involved a washed up mentor and a fake identity, but at the present moment, he was good enough to go. Return, was the correct word. He would return to the village he so hoped to return to as a conquerer, as a nameless traveller. That was not good, he must find a name, he would have to give one at the gates. Maybe that old man shoved one in the backpack? Identity papers that would save him a lot of trouble? Zabuza found a nearby rock and leaned on it, sliding the backpack off his shoulder and inspecting it's insides again. Some weaponry, a change of clothes, money and an envelope. Come to think of it, he hadn't opened it yet. He took out the blank envelope and tore it open, his eyes skimming over it's contents. A letter he was not in the mood to read at the moment, and ah yes, identity papers. His future name would be … Ken. Not bad, Zabuza thought, as he stuffed the papers back in and got up to continue on his way.

The trip to Mizu no Kuni from here was not all that bad. Possibly three days or so, a good enough time for him to reshuffle his priorities.* In that case though,

What were his priorities?

He had no priorities at the moment. All he had to focus on now was to live. How to get into to Kiri unnoticed, how to feed himself, how to get a job if indeed he were to stay in Kiri, where to stay, his life was a big ball of mess. It also occurred to him, that this mess was only brought about because he could not have his shinobi identity anymore. Other than being a shinobi, he did not know how to live. When entering the academy as a child, they taught you to throw kunai, shuriken, hold up a sword, martial arts, but there was never a class on life. As a shinobi, your life was dictated to you by whoever was above you in rank, all the way up to the Kage. You lived doing missions and you died achieving them. They were your purpose in life, and the top priority. But now …

Now he was no longer allowed to live that life. At least not for now. Tying the forehead protector around his head was the easiest thing he's ever done, his life was ordered to him on a scroll and that was that. Now though, what was he to do? He couldn't fight anymore he couldn't take on missions and those things were the only thing he's ever learnt to do. He came to the sore conclusion that it was completely pathetic of a shinobi to not know how to live if his or her resignation should come early. What if the wars ended? And missions were scarce? Would they seize to live? There must be a bigger purpose to life, than what being a shinobi taught you.

Zabuza camped out under the stars throughout those two days. And whenever he threw his head back and looked up, it was like he saw the sky for the very first time. As a shinobi you seldom enjoyed these sights, you died too quickly to realize the world that enveloped you. The great stretch of black dusted with sparkles was one sight he could not take his eyes off for the whole night. He felt, should he sleep, he'll lose the opportunity to gaze up at it forever. That boy, Naruto, he said something so great, so important, that threatened to change Zabuza's life around and, no it was already so, and he didn't even realize it.

"If I grow up to be as strong as you, would I become as heartless as you are?"

Words of wisdom coming out of the age of innocence. It was not surprising at all, that a little twelve year old made all the sense to him, he who had been engrossed in adult nonsense. Zabuza can't remember what was it like to be a child. All he remembered was, kunais, nightmares and the like. A prison called the academy. A final judgement cast over small children to forever turn them into stone. His bloodied hands at the age of only nine. Only nine. That little boy, the grandson of Tazuna, he was eight or so … he played, smiled, laughed around him when they bandaged a ' poor innocent soul in need of desperate help '. The exact words told to Tazuna by his savior were enough to have him in their household around their family, the Konoha genin and Kakashi … what was that old man thinking? Throwing him in the lion's den and it actually worked, he marveled to himself. It actually worked.

Life was not merely living up to the next mission. It was a lot more than that … and as Zabuza gazed up at the stars he wondered, who put them up there? Coincidence? Never. Nothing so intricately flawless comes about because of coincidence. A lump of rock can't just decide around which star it was going to orbit. Earth does not think for it self, it's made of rock and sand and water, no, someone designed it. Someone designed these flawless systems, biggest example would be his own body. Anything could go wrong in processes in the smallest cranny of the human cell, and he could mutate or die, and yet a cell functions perfectly within seconds and he lives by everyday as proof. All of it controlled by the brain sure, but the brain is also made of cells, and everything goes back to who brought about the first one? Coincidence? Zabuza scoffed in his head, never.

One thing Zabuza realized, people would say when in danger, ' oh God' . Everyone did. And another as well, 'thank God.' It didn't matter if they actually believed in God or not, but yes, they always called on him for help and thanks subconsciously. Here he himself began to think, he believed in heaven and hell, didn't that mean that he believed in God? But something occurred to him. How many did he believe in exactly? Which one was the right one to follow? Trinities and other concepts that he didn't understand. Looking up at the stars, smelling the salt by the sea, and marveling at why his fingers were so shaped as they were … Zabuza came to one conclusion. If there were more than one strong man in a village, they always fought for the rule of it. There was only one lion in the pride, and Uchiha Madara and Hashirama fought over Konoha. If he brought all those facts into consideration, there can only be One God. If there were more, they'd fight over the rule. And if there were more than one, it meant that one alone was imperfect. God cannot be imperfect. Therefore God can only be One.

Zabuza chuckled at himself slightly as he picked up a pebble and threw it in a lake. When has he ever given himself time to think about these things? About life and it's purpose? About a job and how to live? Never. He was living like a blind goat guided by the shepherd. He scowled as he considered his own metaphor, and soon it made his blood boil. He, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, the Master of Silent Killing, one of the Seven Swordsmen, a blind goat? A slave? When was he deemed the Kage's slave when his mother gave birth to him a free man?* Being a shinobi wasn't a job anymore, it was slavery. If it conflicted with his morals or not he had to carry out the mission, and that bordered slavery. The very reason he tried to rebel against Kiri seven years ago … Well, that and control and thirst for power … For now though, he thought as he kicked a pebble away, he didn't care anymore, not for control nor power.

Why? Simply because he was going to gain control of the village, then gain more power … then what? What was after the seeking of power? He'd still be living alone. Ah yes, his good friend solitude. Just the idea that Haku was no longer trailing behind him picking flowers, catching rabbits and fishing fish was enough to have his heart ache. And that was not good, he scoffed mentally, because it proved that every time he had heart ache he went on a killing spree. No, he would not go panting like a blood hound after power like the infamous Orochimaru is. He was the reason he lost that Suigetsu. Not that he really cared then, but now, newfound guilts plagued his heart.

Zabuza took a deep breath as he trudged now through the snow, the gates looming in front of him,

"Oi mister!" The guard at the gate called, motioning to him with one hand.

Zabuza sighed as he made his way to them, his face clearly stating he was not in the mood. He grunted as he got to there little stall of a watch place.

"You a local?"

Zabuza stared into the man's eyes for quite a while. Yes? or no? What did the papers say? His stare turned into a glare and the safest thing to do at the moment was fish out the papers. He threw them in front of the guards and the man frowned, eyeing his companion for a moment before he took a look at them. He rolled his eyes looking up to Zabuza, "You could've just nodded,"

The former shinobi took back the papers and stuffed them into his bag, moving away his face hot with embarrassment. Well what if the papers said no? They'd know it's fake, and he wasn't expected to memorize what the papers said … Yes he was, he scoffed at himself again.

The village was quite different from the last time he's been there. A change of Kages really does a lot … Children ran around with smiles, -that- was an achievement. Stalls were open, food was being cooked on the street and he found himself to be quite hungry. He stopped in front of one particular stall run by an old woman. She was selling freshly caught fish and grilling some shishamo* on the side. The little fish smelled perfect, and were rather fat as well. Full with eggs probably. Before he made a fool of himself again though, he opened his bag and checked the amount of money he had. He counted the bank notes like he was a human note counter. Flipping them with speed and precision counting with his eyes, like he's done it his whole life. It did not at all give away his current state of poverty. He had enough money for a week's food. And there was this little note in the envelope that said, ' Get a job. '

Damn you, he thought in return.

He took a considerable amount of money and placed on the shopkeeper's table, before picking one flaming hot little fish by the tail, and blowing on it once twice three times before taking a bite, yelping in the process. The fish were small to fit whole in his mouth to the tail, but too hot and too fat for a thing that size he only bit half off and held the other half between both his hands, juggling it around. He blew out hot air into the sky, fresh off the grill they were alright. His mouth was burning but in the same time his being was filled with satisfaction with every chew. It was delicious, when was the last time he actually tasted his food? He couldn't remember. He swallowed and popped the second half in his mouth, while the shopkeeper reached for a fan and started to wave it over the grill, sparks flying here and there, and the crackling of the fish's skin crumpling grew higher. The heat was also rewarding, he lived all his life in Kiri but the seven years he was away caused him to forget how cold it actually was.

There was a shuffling nearby and before Zabuza knew it his whole being shook slightly as something bumped into his legs and attempted to flee but lost it's footing and fell on the ground. He frowned, turning to see none other than a little orphan dusting the snow off of himself,

Zabuza snorted, "That's a lousy way to steal kid,"

The little boy let out a hmph! as he stood up frowning and glaring at the older man. His little face was scratched and his little toes were red. Well, Zabuza thought, that much didn't change. Without a moment's hesitation or even consideration he threw the little fish he had between his fingers to the little boy, who caught it all too eagerly, juggling it about his hands and staring at Zabuza with surprise and suspicion. The older man glared back, "Scram!" he snapped.

The little boy took his little prize and ran off, and Zabuza turned once more to put another into his mouth when something small tugged on his pants. He growled, looking down he saw a little girl as scruffy as the first looking up expectingly at him. He dropped the fish in his hands at her and kicked her off, though for some reason, she giggled as she ran away. For all he remembered, being kicked away wasn't all that pleasant. A cold wind ruffled his hair and caused him to shudder. He moved closer to the grill, close enough his clothes might catch on fire, and picked up another hot fish throwing it whole in his mouth. Again he threw his head back and blew almost whistling out the hot air, but he ate contently. Two little arms clung on to his leg, shuddering away from the cold as well. Aww, he thought, that little boy is cold too …

"Get off!" he grumbled.

The little boy glared back at him with demand, Zabuza let out a groan, throwing him some food and kicking him away too. Soon more and more little heads looked up to him expectantly, till at last, though he fed them, roared at them to leave him alone. He himself only had two servings and he was terribly hungry with no place to stay and three days of travel; he needed his own share. When he reached out for a third the old women swatted his hand away with her fan, "You're payment's up." Zabuza scowled,

Being nice was expensive.

A gentle creamy fair hand brushed past his as laid another note over his before retreating, his eyes following it. A woman stood beside him with the smallest of smiles, green eyes glittering as they met his dark pair, "I'm paying," she murmured, "I've never seen anyone do that before." She nodded at a little orphan happily feasting in the opposite alley. Women were sentimental, he thought, as if he had not cried the rivers of Kiri over The Great Naruto Bridge a week ago.

He grunted, giving her a brisk nod, "And I've never seen someone pay another for doing it," he huffed,

"You have no job," she retorted eyes on the grill with a slight smirk.

Zabuza narrowed his eyes slowly turning to her and all she did was hold up the note to him. The winds must've carried it to her. He growled a soft growl as he snatched it and crumpled it in his own hand, "I don't need charity,"

"It's not," she shrugged, lifting a little fish to her mouth and blowing softly, before she took a little bite, "It's a simple thanks,"

"For what?"

"For giving them a chance to live to tomorrow," she murmured between her soft chews.

"I don't elongate lives,"

"You help nurture them,"

Her voice was akin to a whisper with sound to it, and he didn't like how she had fast short answers for his every remark, as if intending to prove him wrong or something. He continued frowning at her for a long while before finally reaching out to the food and popping one in his mouth, "It's your gift I ain't owing you anything,"

"Who said you did? As a matter of fact, I might as well owe you,"

"For what?" He demanded, what did this woman want exactly?

She smiled looking up to his dark eyes, her tied back dirty blonde locks had a slight wave to them, he noted, when they danced in the slight wind, "I'll keep that to myself."

* "Death has a peculiar way of reshuffling one's priorities." Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean.

** "When have you made people slaves when their mothers gave birth to them free?" Arab quote, Omar bin AlKhataab.

*** Shishamo is a salt water fish about 15 centimeters in length.

I hope it's good enough to read ^^" And I know I'm horrible I always start one and I don't go past the first chapter, but I have high hopes for this one,

Please R&R :)