The Demon Of The Mist could clearly remember the day that he’d met Umino Iruka.
It was a particularly dreary night — only worsened by the dull pain in his back that turned searing hot every time he moved too hard. Haku quietly huffed and puffed under his weight, trying to make their struggle quiet as if Momochi didn’t have some of the sharpest ears around. Everytime they huffed, he felt like pushing himself up — or letting his own tears fall because he couldn’t use his legs.
It was so out–of–character for him to cry then but at that moment, everything was emotionally touching.
The way that snow was slowly floating from the ground. The whoosh of cars going by. The way his fingers stilled and froze while he was exposed to the Kirigakure heat. The insistent way Haku tugged at his arm to keep him going. What a kind soul.
Despite being raised by him, Haku was… entirely a better person than him. He wished that he could go where they were going. But it was like his body then remembered that he was leaking blood, and so was Haku. Blood instead of tears at their own predicament spilled messily into the snow.
Zabuza’s own hand was clutching around Haku’s wounded midriff — as if he could close the wound by force of thought. Too bad he hadn’t learned more… too bad he couldn’t prevent this… he would die with a lot of regrets wouldn’t he? The winter cold pierced his body and made his throbbing body shudder and flinch like a live wire.
He didn’t even hear it when Haku yelled, nor when he tripped. He could see the world spin but he imagined it would a little bit before death. Dizzy, and becoming warm and… Death… hadn’t come to take him yet, it seemed.
What came was a dark–haired man with a bright orange scarf and a face he couldn’t see due to the snow and the white beginning to fuzz his vision. Zabuza saw his mouth moving before he heard it. He felt Iruka’s hands lifting him and he didn’t complain a single bit until his weak hand began to unclasp from Haku’s robes. He couldn’t fuss for too long, his eyes fell shut and though he fought it — unconsciousness claimed him eagerly.
“... May he and his child get better, heal them completely…”
Zabuza regained consciousness to soft murmurs beside his resting space, and an ache in his back that was partially soothed by a heavy blanket and warm air rolling over him. He was laid on his stomach, and his head was turned so that when he opened his bleary eyes — he saw the angel that took him again. This time, properly. As the angel beside his bed knelt in concentration; his hands laced together and his lips pursed. Worry obviously decorating his features, only partially hidden by the dark hair that draped over his brown skin, and accentuated the scar running across his nose and under his eyes.
“Don’t—,” Zabuza coughed out, causing the man to look up in alarm, “—don’t pray for me.”
“That’s the first thing you say to me?”
The angel frowned, unimpressed once he recovered from his shock.
“I’ve got other things to pray for, you were just on my list. And why wouldn’t I? You’re in need of some kindness.”
“I should be in Hell, Angel–sama.” He rasped out.
“Angel–sama?” He questioned, before putting his hand on Zabuza’s head. It was warm, and his palms were calloused but smooth, “The point is, you’re not in Hell. If you were meant to be there, you would be. But you’re alive, right? Be grateful for your blessings, and go back to sleep silly. You’ve got a fever.”
Oh. Was Zabuza’s first thought. He didn’t end up having a second thought, because as Angel commanded, he drifted off to sleep.
Turns out Angel–sama was an elementary school teacher named Umino Iruka. Zabuza would gnash his teeth in embarrassment at the thought of how he’d mistaken him for an Angel, but it was pretty easy to mistake him for one, in his defense — he refused to acknowledge the nickname once he’d become lucid enough to remember what he’d said. He called him ‘Umino’ and he was corrected to ‘Iruka’ and that was that.
Zabuza described to him how Gato had betrayed them, how he’d come to blows with the infamous Kakashi, and his students; Zabuza promptly found out that the blonde kid was Iruka’s own. Uzumaki Naruto was staying with Kakashi for the time being, since the expensive high school that he wanted to go to was both out of Iruka’s budget and out of Iruka’s driving range. Kakashi was a close friend, so they had agreed on it.
It was a huge coincidence that Iruka had stumbled upon the former gangster, when taking a trip to visit his pseudo–son. Zabuza apologized gruffly, but Iruka didn’t seem to hold anything against him at all. He should have, but he didn’t.
He was kind to Zabuza. He was kind to Haku, who had silently flown into the room when they were informed that Zabuza was awake, and wept over his warm body. Once they had reconciled, Haku told him of the blonde woman doctor that visited them near–weekly and had managed to put together Haku’s singular wound faster than Zabuza’s many wounds. They spoke quietly about Iruka’s hospitality, and Iruka preparing their meals and bringing them along to class. They spoke even quieter of the discussion they’d overheard about potential funeral plans.
Umino was willing to bury him in his own family plot. Haku went silent after that, before making one of the only genuine requests that Zabuza had heard of them. ‘May we stay with him? For a little while? Iruka–san is kind.’.
A little while turned into months. Staying turned into living. The 3 bedroom apartment turned into a home. Having a gangster in the house was a struggle that Iruka handled with grace. Zabuza had seen him get mad over less, but he never got mad when he needed to. Like when Zabuza broke a vase, or Haku had gotten distracted by the television (“We never had one!,” they cried, “I was watching it and so much time passed!” ; “Hey, hey, it happens to the best of us. Trust me, that’s why I’ve got Ichiraku’s on speed dial.”) and let their dinner burn.
Zabuza spent his time lounging at home. Then picking up after himself and Haku. Then picking up after Iruka. Before he knew it the Great Demon of the Mist was practically a househusband. He would be more angry about it if he wasn’t rewarded with Iruka coming home and wrapping his arms around his too–tall torso and exclaiming ‘You’re a lifesaver!’ or ‘Thank you, Zabuza!’.
And then they’d sit around the table, sometimes accompanied by Naruto or Kakashi, or even Iruka’s own friends — Kotetsu and Izumo. They’d eat happily, and Iruka would talk about his day, and Haku learned to talk about their day — and honestly Zabuza would talk about his own day sometimes. It was uncomfortably domestic for 2 murderers and a schoolteacher.
On the day that it happened; the power went out. A harsh storm whipped and struck the apartment complex — and Iruka hadn’t come home yet.
Zabuza grunted as he rifled through cabinets, pulling object after object out.
“Haku!”
“Yes?” They called back from upstairs.
“Where are the candles?!”
A soft thump sounded and Zabuza properly turned around from the counter, in concern.
“Never mind, stay there kid.”
“Sorry! I’m not sure that we have candles, I’ve never seen Iruka light one!”
Shit.
Zabuza squinted and moved blindly through the apartment — nearly tripping over the couch multiple times, grappling with his winter coat and scarf before moving to the entrance and tugging an umbrella out of the closet.
“I’m going out to get some candles!”
“Could I come?”
Was the soft response. Zabuza considered it for a moment but… normal parents wouldn’t let their kid come right? His path was unusually wrought with blood but he could be… gentle, right? Such thoughts had been coming to him since he’d begun living with Iruka.
“No! Stay safe, Haku!”
“I should be the one saying that!,” They yelled back above the chilling wind that Zabuza was plunged into the moment he opened the front door, “Stay safe!”
And with Haku’s blessing, Zabuza plunged into the cold. The city was still alive — lights blinking and the occasional car rushing home. But the sidewalks were empty and the sky was dark. It was beautiful, in a way. Zabuza had no hate for the rain.
He pulled out his phone and frowned when he saw nothing but the time. No notifications from Iruka. He shook his head and went to check the GPS instead.
For a while, the only sounds he could hear were rain and the occasional ping of directions. It was nice, despite the howling winds. About two years ago, he would’ve considered a snowstorm his final resting place. But the snow had softened into rain, and like all things aged — Zabuza was now 28 and a softer man than he was before. I mean, walking out into the storm to get candles so Iruka could come home to light instead of stumbling all over?
Even when he reached his destination, and stepped out the store with vanilla–scented candles, he found that his feet didn’t guide him home. It was like a sense. A whisper that urged him on. On to the Academy, lights went dark since it was after school. It had been… too long, since he was at an Academy. Iruka hadn’t made him go, and he appreciated it.
But it was like Iruka was drawing him in too. He pushed open the front door, and his shoes echoed through the dark and cold hallways. The wind sounded a lot worse through the inside. A sense of nostalgia hung over the air and… a light of a classroom was still on — deep into the school. Zabuza pushed open the door, to be greeted with an empty classroom. Iruka’s classroom, if the doodled portrait of the teacher on a whiteboard was anything to say.
He stepped into the room, eyeing it warily. It was nothing like his old school — he told himself. Zabuza backed himself right next to Iruka’s desk and heard the telltale jostling of a falling object, which his hand whisked out to catch.
A frame. He turned to the desk. Two frames.
One frame, which was the one he held, being two people that Zabuza couldn’t recognize. A man with a mustache, a lovely lady with familiar gentle brown eyes. And a baby dressed in white pajamas. Iruka?
Zabuza moved to grab the other frame and stared. It was a picture. Iruka and himself, positioned like the parents in the first frame. Naruto hanging off Iruka’s side, and Haku standing patiently. His face was covered but he still looked mildly startled by the photo. But he looked… a lot nicer, when surrounded by family, right? Family?
Did he have a family now?
“Zabuza!”
He startled and turned around, to where the Angel stood again. Umino Iruka, holding a flashlight that pinned him on the spot. He moved to form words, lamely turning and remembering his shopping bag that laid on the floor.
“I should be in Hell, Angel–sama.” He repeated, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.
“Why do you think that?”
“I… I don’t think I ever had a family. Even with Haku, I denied it. Even in this picture, I look out of place. I’ve been coasting by, and living with you. I’ve been relying on your kindness when I never deserved it.,” His voice cracked as admission flowed from his lips like water, “It’s so… nice and peaceful here, no place for a Demon like me. Everyone else has fallen into a family dynamic but it feels like my life paused when I was supposed to die.
Am I a Father? Am I loved? I know I am but… it feels out of place on me.”
Tears began to prick at his eyes, and the flashlight snapped off. It was another act of mercy to him by Iruka. He knew that Zabuza hated others seeing his tears. Only willing to when he was about to lose everything. Was he losing everything now?
Firm but gentle arms wrapped around his torso, and held him together through his misery. He had no reason to feel sad anymore, but the tears kept coming.
“It’s like my body learned to live before my brain did. I think I’m fucked up. I think I don’t deserve you.”
He buried himself into that warm body holding him anyways, anchoring him there.
“When I said, ‘if you were meant to be in Hell, you would be’, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to be here, with me. I think fate is a very nice concept, but it’s just a concept. You might not be ‘meant’ for this, but you’re here. Your brain might not tell you that you can be gentle, but you water my plants each day and you give Haku a hug every time they leave with me. You might not be ready for the title of Father, but Haku has never called you that. I can say that they say your name with the same fondness that they hear children yelling for their parents everyday. They learned how to do that because they loved you.
Living is the hardest thing in the world, but you’re alive, right? I’ve never thought less of you for being at home, you’re working with what you can. If you were really coasting by, you wouldn’t bother cleaning my house and making dinner on the weekdays.”
“But what does all of that mean? What does it mean? Who am I now? Do all those little things really mean I deserve kindness, despite all the horrible things I’ve done?”
“It does.” Iruka went simply, as if it were a fact so easy that anyone could grasp it, “Humans are made of all their experiences, not just your past. The Demon that killed is now a lot more of a memory than the Human who is kind.”
“I don’t feel kind.”
“What did you buy, then?”
“... candles.” He blinked slowly, staring into Iruka’s eyes. “Candles, so you could see when you came home, ‘nd so Haku wouldn’t trip again.”
“Thank you, Zabuza. You’re a lifesaver.”
“I’m not. You both could live without me.”
“We could. But everyone feels a lot safer and happier when you’re around. So we’ve decided to keep you. And since you do so many acts of kindness for us, even if you don’t notice them yourself, we’ve decided that you deserve every bit of love you get. I can’t forgive in place of those you hurt, when you die. But I can give a damn good argument as to why you’ll go to Heaven.”
“I think I’m already there.”
“Then enjoy yourself. You’ll be here for a while, right? You’ve got time to figure out your life. An eternity with us.”
“Mm.” He held tighter to the teacher in his arms. “What if I hurt you?”
“I’ll laugh it off. I’m an Angel, right?” Iruka ran his hands through short black hair, “I love you Zabuza, I don’t care.”