Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, as you all know, for if I did, he would not have any time to be on a show since he'd be my slave, which means he would be doing whatever I say, right?


I'm not sure how it all began. Nothing leading to that moment was unusual, but that didn't stop my world from plunging into horror. Why do I feel so horrid, so violated? What he did wasn't wrong, was it? He's my master; I've always told him that he may do as he wishes with me. Then, why am I so disturbed? Why do I feel so sick?

It's all a jumble. My mind can't stop swirling. He's across the room, his face planted gravely in his upturned, bloodstained palms; his naked, sweat-soaked body is wrapped up in the soft, cotton sheets.

I'm still on the bed, trembling, where products of his lust and my own blood surround me. I ache everywhere; I can't so much as sit up without wincing in pain. My lips are battered, bruises cover every inch of me, and my neck is splotched with blood from where he left little bites as he savaged me. Some pieces of my hair are strewn across the pillows, the result of the countless times he grabbed at my hair to maintain his grip; the rest is messy and tangled as it falls, loose, across my jerking back and shoulders.

"…Z-Zabuza-san…" I croak out the words; my voice is as damaged as the rest of me.

He lifts his head and looks at me with those piercing eyes, as if he's finally seen me for the first time since the nightmare began. "Haku…" He chokes and coughs as he turns his face away. "I'm sorry."

Tears line my eyes, the eyes I received from my mother; a few droplets fall onto my trembling fist and I manage a small smile. "I-It's all right, Zabuza-san," I whisper gently, trying hard to smooth my voice. "You w-were upset and h-had one too many d-drinks. It's not your f-fault."

The eyes, those eternally hard, cruel eyes, turn back to me and seem to read my entire soul. For what feels like an eternity, Zabuza scrutinizes me, his eyes too probing to hold guilt or sympathy. Then, without a word, he stands and leaves the room; the sheets cinched around his waist and his perspiration slowly running in droplets down his turned back.

My body gives one last shudder and I fall back on the bed, exhausted. Zabuza had been depressed since his failure to assassinate the Mizukage and, with me at his side, he'd been running through villages and countries to escape the Anbu teams after us. Unfortunately, every night he would leave the shelter of our hideouts to drink. He had always come back as a raving, temperamental drunk, but never before had he approached me in such a manner that he had.

"More attractive 'n all the ladies in this damn town," he had said, his voice slurred with drink as he grabbed my arm. "Ever since I firs' saw you, I've been wonderin' if you're really what you say." He had pulled me close by then, one hand gripping viciously to a handful of hair while the other painfully clenched my wrist. "I'd really like to know," he had whispered in my ear, the stench of alcohol nearly unbearable as I smelled it in his breath.

"B-but, Zabuza-san, wait!" I had cried, frightened, as he'd started to remove my kimono. His fingers forced into my mouth were his reply as he had continued to strip me of my clothes. Then, for what had seemed like hours, he just stared at my naked body; my clothes were in disheveled piles on the floor.

Zabuza had cleared his throat as he had struggled to find words. "…So, you are a boy," was all that he'd managed to say as his eyes scanned my entire surface.

At that moment, I had wished so hard that I could have covered myself, ran away and hid, or at least had enough courage to speak again. But, all I could do was stand as if frozen, my heart pounding wildly in my chest as my master bent forward and grabbed me in my most private place. I couldn't have helped it; I'd gasped in fear and surprise.

The ninja had mistaken my reaction, thinking it was caused by a different emotion. Before I had realized it, I was facedown on his bed, crushed painfully beneath his strong, heavy body. Each thrust had felt like a hammer blow, each bite like my very muscles were being torn from my bones, and every protest, whimper, and cry of mine had had no effect on the crazed, animal-like man as he beat down upon me.

It had been as if Zabuza had become a real demon. Now, as I sit here, my trembling slowly subsiding, I feel tears fall from my face like rain. It feels as if my father has slain my mother again; another person that has made me feel wanted has broken trust. I'm alone again.

But, wait! Zabuza is still alive! I can still be of use to him! My thoughts becoming more and more optimistic, my tears also disappear and I manage a real smile. Right now, I'm going to help and protect Zabuza until he finds happiness. I will be worth something, then. I will be wanted. When Zabuza becomes happy, then I will be, too.

I will let nothing tarnish my goal, my wish. I promise, one day, Zabuza and I will find true joy.