Haku's voice comes through the wall like a hand sliding under a door.
"Copy Ninja," it says softly. "I only need one thing."
The words are gentle. The meaning isn't.
Kakashi doesn't answer immediately.
He stands with his hand on the window frame, posture calm, like he's deciding whether to cut the thread or follow it. The room behind him is packed with held breath—Naruto rigid with confusion, Sakura pale, Sasuke somewhere above us on the roof like a drawn blade, Tsunami hovering with fear she doesn't understand, Inari staring like hatred can keep monsters out.
And me… pinned against the wall with my splinted wrist pulsing beneath cloth, blood drying at my nostril, tongue seal coiled tight in my mouth like a fist.
My ribs tighten with the tether's warm weight.
Then the cold depth beneath it stirs, lazy and amused, as if something inside Naruto is smiling in the dark.
**Little…**
The intent brushes my mind's edge.
Not words. Not a voice.
A presence enjoying the tension.
Kakashi finally speaks, voice even.
"What do you need?" he asks.
Outside, Haku pauses.
When he answers, the gentleness becomes worse, because it's careful. Controlled.
"The boy," Haku says. "The one with the leash."
Every muscle in my body locks.
The tether pulses hard.
Warm density clamps my ribs like a hand closing.
Cold depth rises beneath it like deep water swelling toward the surface.
Naruto inhales sharply.
"What—?" he starts.
Kakashi's hand lifts without looking back, a silent order: *quiet.*
Naruto clamps his mouth shut, eyes wide, staring at Kakashi like he's been slapped by confusion.
Kakashi's visible eye narrows.
"You mean Souta," he says.
No surprise in his voice. Only confirmation that he, too, heard what Haku meant.
Outside, Haku's tone remains polite.
"Yes."
Sakura makes a small, broken sound.
My stomach drops so hard it feels like my organs shift.
Not Tazuna.
Not Kakashi.
Not Naruto.
Me.
The disposable.
The extra.
The one who bleeds instead of the chosen ones.
Kakashi's voice stays calm, but the air around him changes—something in him tightening like a wire being pulled taut.
"You're not taking anyone," he says.
Haku's response is soft enough to feel like apology.
"I won't hurt your team," he says. "I don't want to. But my master needs leverage, and you've made him… difficult."
Zabuza.
Leverage.
My wrist pulses under the splint, and for a second the cold needle-sense from earlier returns—Haku's attention pinpointed, clinical. He isn't guessing anymore. He knows what I am in the structure of this mission: a thread tied to Naruto, tied to Kakashi, tied to the bridge builder's survival.
Tsunami whispers, almost inaudible. "What is happening?"
No one answers her. There isn't language for this in a civilian house.
Kakashi speaks again, voice low.
"Leave," he says.
Outside, Haku sighs—quiet, almost sad.
"I can't," he replies.
The lantern light doesn't flicker, but the room feels dimmer anyway, like the air has decided to stop carrying warmth.
Then—without warning—something taps the window.
Not a knock.
A tiny metallic *tick.*
Kakashi moves.
His hand flashes up, and a senbon hits his glove and ricochets into the wall, embedding with a soft *thunk.*
Sakura yelps. Tsunami flinches back. Naruto jerks forward instinctively—
—and the tether slams my ribs so hard my breath cuts off.
Warm density surges around Naruto like armor being thrown over him.
Cold depth beneath it stirs, amused.
I choke on air that won't come.
Kakashi doesn't even look at Naruto. He just says, sharp and quiet, "Don't move."
Naruto freezes, eyes wide.
More taps.
Senbon whispering through paper screens, through seams, through gaps too small for a normal attack to exploit.
Kakashi deflects two with barely-visible motions. One skims past his shoulder and buries itself in the floorboards.
The third doesn't go for Kakashi.
It goes for Naruto.
I see it—thin line of metal aimed for a throat that fate refuses to allow to be pierced.
My ribs tighten in warning, like the world itself drawing breath—
—and the senbon's angle shifts.
Not dramatically.
Not like it hits a wall.
Like the air decides a different target is acceptable.
It strikes my splinted wrist.
Metal punches through cloth and bites into skin just above the sealing ring.
Pain is sharp and immediate, and then my hand goes colder—like the poison remembered it wasn't finished with me.
Sakura screams my name.
Naruto's eyes go wider.
He looks at the senbon in my wrist like it's an accusation.
The tether pulses warm and heavy, satisfied in a sick way—Naruto untouched again, the damage redirected into me like water finding the lowest point.
My vision swims.
Kakashi's voice cuts in, hard. "Everyone, down!"
He moves so fast the room blurs.
A shadow at the window.
Paper slides.
Haku steps in without tearing anything, as if the wall agrees to let him enter.
The hunter mask is still on.
Blank. Striped.
Emotionless.
But the posture under it is gentle confidence—someone who doesn't need to hurry because he's already decided the outcome.
Sasuke drops from the ceiling hatch in the same instant, landing between Haku and the rest of us with a kunai raised.
The impact is light. Controlled.
Sasuke's eyes are sharp, furious, and he's trying very hard not to show he's scared.
"You," Sasuke spits.
Haku inclines his head, polite. "Hello."
Sasuke attacks.
A clean slash.
Haku turns aside like he's avoiding rain.
Sasuke follows with a second strike, faster, angrier.
Haku steps inside the arc without being hit and touches Sasuke's shoulder with two fingers.
A senbon appears in his other hand and taps Sasuke's neck.
Sasuke stiffens.
His kunai clatters to the tatami.
His legs lock, then wobble.
His eyes widen in horrified surprise just before his body collapses to his knees, frozen in a half-fall.
Paralyzed.
Naruto makes a sound like he's about to explode.
He lunges forward.
Kakashi catches him by the collar with one hand and yanks him back like hauling a dog away from a cliff.
Naruto thrashes. "Let go! He—he did something to Sasuke!"
The tether punches my ribs again from Naruto's movement. My breath stutters. Blood warms my nose.
Haku doesn't look at Naruto.
He looks at me.
Even through the mask, I feel it—his gaze settling on my wrist, on the sealing ring under skin, on the splint and the blood.
"Sorry," he says softly.
The apology is sincere.
That's what makes him terrifying.
Kakashi steps forward, placing himself between Haku and me.
His posture is calm, but his chakra feels like a blade sliding half out of its sheath.
Haku's voice remains polite. "Copy Ninja. Please don't force me to injure your team."
Kakashi's visible eye narrows. "You already did."
Haku's head tilts. "Temporary."
Kakashi's tone is flat. "Leave."
Haku doesn't.
He moves.
Not toward Kakashi's throat—toward Kakashi's *blind spot.* Like he's already memorized how Kakashi stands, how he shifts, where his weight goes.
Kakashi intercepts.
Kunai meets senbon.
Metal clicks—tiny, intimate sounds.
Haku slips past anyway, like water finding the crack.
For one second, Kakashi's shoulder blocks my view.
Then Haku is in front of me.
Close enough I can smell him through the mask—clean soap, damp cloth, cold metal.
He reaches toward my splint.
My right fingers twitch uselessly.
I can't grip. I can't punch. I can't even slap his hand away.
I try to pull back, spine scraping the wall.
My stump flares with pain.
Haku's fingers brush my wrist—
—and the tether surges like a living thing.
Warm density clamps my ribs so hard I see spots.
Cold depth rises beneath it, enormous and amused.
The red world flashes behind my eyes—bars, chains, a vast face pressing closer to the crack.
For an instant, it feels like something looks through me.
Not my eyes—my *connection.*
Haku freezes.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
His hand withdraws immediately, as if he just touched a furnace.
Kakashi lunges.
Haku pivots away, but Kakashi's kunai catches the edge of Haku's sleeve, tearing cloth.
A strip of fabric flutters to the floor.
Haku retreats a step, still gentle, still calm.
Kakashi stands between us again.
His visible eye is sharp now, fully awake.
"What are you?" Kakashi asks.
Haku's head tilts slightly. "A tool," he answers, and the honesty in it is so clean it makes my stomach twist. "Like you."
Kakashi's jaw tightens.
Naruto has gone still behind Kakashi's grip, staring at Sasuke on the floor, then at Haku, then at me. Confusion and rage and guilt are tangling in his face.
Sakura presses both hands over her mouth to stop herself from making noise.
Tsunami has backed into the hall, trembling. Inari stands in front of her like a shield made of spite.
Haku speaks again, voice still polite.
"Give me the boy," he says. "And I leave. I won't kill anyone here."
My blood turns to ice.
Kakashi doesn't answer immediately.
Silence stretches, tight and suffocating.
In that silence, I understand something with brutal clarity:
Kakashi is weighing it.
Not because he wants to sacrifice me.
Because he's a shinobi, and shinobi weigh lives like numbers when the alternative is worse numbers.
My ribs tighten, not from fate this time—just human terror.
I am the extra.
If Kakashi thinks giving me up saves Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and the bridge builder… what does he do?
The thought makes me nauseous.
But Kakashi's voice, when it comes, is flat and absolute.
"No."
One syllable.
Haku's posture softens by a fraction, as if disappointed.
"Then," he says quietly, "I'll take him."
He moves again.
This time, Kakashi's kunai snaps up toward Haku's throat—
—and Haku is simply not there.
A blur. A shift. Like a reflection moving wrong.
Haku appears at my side, hand closing around the back of my collar.
My body jerks.
My shoulder screams.
My splinted wrist slams into the wall and pain detonates, bright and sickening.
I gasp, and the tongue seal bites hard enough that tears spring instantly.
Haku's grip is firm, careful. Not cruel. Efficient.
He drags me backward toward the window.
Kakashi pivots instantly, reaching for me.
Naruto surges forward at the same time, instinct overriding orders.
The tether slams my ribs in response to Naruto's proximity.
Warm density crushes my chest.
Cold depth rises like deep water swelling toward the surface.
I choke—air refusing to enter.
My vision tunnels.
Haku's hand tightens on my collar, pulling me up and back.
Kakashi's fingers catch my sleeve—my right sleeve, not the empty one—and for a fraction of a heartbeat I'm suspended between them.
Tug-of-war.
Me as the rope.
My wrist seal pulses so hard it feels like it's vibrating under skin.
And then the story corrects.
Not to save me.
To protect Naruto.
Naruto is too close.
If Kakashi pulls me back toward Naruto's space, the tether surges, the pressure spikes, and I might collapse right at Naruto's feet—making Naruto stop, making the scene focus on me, making the plot deviate.
The world does not allow that.
Something shifts.
My fabric tears.
Kakashi's grip slips off cloth instead of flesh.
Haku's pull wins—not because he's stronger, but because reality decided the outcome that keeps Naruto's beat intact.
I slide through the window like a package being delivered.
Cold air hits my face.
Mist wraps around us immediately, damp and clinging, swallowing the house behind like it never existed.
Kakashi is at the window in the next instant, visible eye wide, killing intent flaring.
Naruto's face appears behind him—horrified, furious, helpless.
Sakura's scream tears out behind them.
Sasuke lies paralyzed on the floor, eyes wide and furious, trapped in his own body.
Haku holds me close against his chest with one arm, keeping my splinted wrist pinned where I can't thrash. His other hand flashes, and senbon appear between his fingers like claws made of needles.
"Don't follow," he says softly.
It isn't a threat.
It's instruction.
Kakashi's voice is sharp. "Stop."
Haku inclines his head politely. "I'm sorry."
Then he moves.
Not running.
Vanishing.
The mist swallows the world. The air rushes past. My stomach flips as he takes rooftops and branches and ground in smooth, silent arcs.
My ribs tighten and loosen in pulses as the tether reacts—not to proximity now, but to the *pulling away* of a thread tied to Naruto.
Warm density strains.
Cold depth stirs with lazy amusement.
**Little… taken.**
I can't breathe properly.
Not because Haku is holding me too tight.
Because the story is stretching between Naruto and me like a rope, and ropes burn when pulled.
My splinted wrist throbs. Blood seeps through cloth again, warm and sticky.
Haku's voice comes near my ear, gentle as a lullaby.
"Try not to fight," he says. "If you panic, the fox listens."
The fox.
My blood turns to ice.
He knows about it.
Not just suspicion.
Knowledge.
We land briefly—on wet ground near water. The smell of salt hits my nose, sharp and real. Waves, distant.
Land of Waves is closer than it should be.
Or time has stopped making sense.
Haku sets me down only enough to adjust his grip, never releasing my collar.
My legs wobble. My body tries to collapse. He holds me up anyway.
He reaches toward my wrist again—careful, hesitant.
The tether pulses hard in warning.
Warm density tightens my ribs.
Cold depth rises beneath it, pleased.
Haku stops, as if remembering the heat of the furnace.
He sighs softly.
"So," he murmurs, almost to himself, "Konoha put a leash on you."
His head tilts. "And fate put another."
He looks down at me, mask blank, voice still gentle.
"I wonder," he says, "which one breaks first."
Behind him, mist swirls.
And somewhere in that mist, I feel it—the cold needle-sense again, stronger, as if we're not alone.
Not Kakashi.
Not Team 7.
Something else watching from the dark spaces between.
Root doesn't let assets go easily.
My wrist pulses.
Warm and heavy.
Cold depth beneath it stirs, amused and awake.
And as Haku lifts me again and carries me deeper into fog, my last glimpse of the world behind is the distant silhouette of Kakashi at the window—still, furious, and already moving—
while I'm dragged away from the only people who might have protected me, into a place where both enemy and village shadow can claim me.
No plot armor.
Just leashes.
And the tightening certainty that this time, the story isn't bending steel away from Naruto—
it's bending me into bait.