Title: The Way, the truth, and the lightsaber
Author: Timothy Wren
Fandom: Naruto, Star Wars/The Mandalorian
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Momochi Zabuza
Notes/Warnings: Imprisonment, Meet Cute, Discussions of Violence, Mandalorian Culture & Mando’a Language
Word Count: 1,200 (complete)
Summary: The man in manacles shifted, looking up with a dirty face– Zabuza inhaled roughly. Silver eyes pierced him in place, intense on a face that had seen better days. He had a black eye that was only just starting to fade.
“Not a jetii.” He croaked, from a bone-dry throat. “Mandalorian.”
Zabuza shouldered into a room that was barely big enough to be called that– closet, maybe; all the rooms on the ship were cramped as fuck. He was beyond ready to finish the job and go home already.
He’d only been on this contract for two days and it was already taking forever. These were career head hunters, though– they already had a prisoner on board, secured the old-fashioned way since they were too cheap to buy a carbon freezing unit.
They were also too cheap for storage; the room Zabuza entered had crates stacked up around the prisoner, a grey-haired man shackled to the wall. He wore little more than rags.
Zabuza leaned against a wall of crates and whistled low; the man did not even look up, though he was conscious.
“Heard they found you with a lightsaber.” He drawled, low and amused. “Fancy yourself a jetii or scavenge it off a corpse of some backwater world the Empire wouldn’t bother with?”
The man in manacles shifted, looking up with a dirty face– Zabuza inhaled roughly. Silver eyes pierced him in place, intense on a face that had seen better days. He had a black eye that was only just starting to fade.
“Not a jetii.” He croaked, from a bone-dry throat. “Mandalorian.”
He dissolved into a coughing fit that looked and sounded painful.
“Bullshit.” Zabuza lurched forward off the crate. He wasn’t wearing a speck of armor; neither was Zabuza, but that wasn’t his choice.
The man said nothing, still staring with that intimidatingly intense look in his eyes.
“Mando’ade don’t carry lightsabers.” Zabuza spat, heart racing in his chest. If, if, ifs ran through his mind, cycling. He had his own covert to care for– bad luck for this poor fucker if he was a Mandalorian, but it didn’t have anything to do with Zabuza.
The filthy man strung up like a common criminal closed his eyes, and Zabuza would not admit relief to be free of his gaze. Then, his mouth opened:
“Ba’jur bal beskar’gam, Ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor—[1]”
“Alright, enough!” Zabuza’s chest fucking hurt. He clutched at his heart, spooked like a ghost.
“My kids.” The chained Mandalorian spoke, rasping with a wrecked voice. “I had– three foundlings, when they took me. They won’t tell me where they are.”
Zabuza’s world fell upside down. Silver eyes regarded him with a burning desperation.
He cursed up a blue streak.
“There aren’t any kids on this ship.” He reported grimly. Hell, he certainly hadn’t brought his kid.
The prisoner closed his eyes again.
“Fuck.” He said, no longer looking at Zabuza. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Zabuza, damn his ancestors, walked over and started undoing the restraints. His hands shook a little.
“Wh–” The other man resisted initially before realizing Zabuza’s goal. He stilled.
“Shut up.” Zabuza said roughly. “Momochi Zabuza, Clan Momochi, House E’tad Kad’ade.”
“Hatake Kakashi.” Up close the gaze was even more startling. “Clan Hatake, House Vizsla.”
“These fuckers grabbed someone of House Vizsla?” Zabuza hissed, unlocking the last manacle and backing a few feet away. “What a stupid way to piss off every single one of us.”
He froze as Hatake took the opportunity to rub blood back into his wrists.
“Wait, the saber they found you with. It wasn’t–?”
He couldn’t even fucking say it.
“No.” Hatake cleared his throat, then reassured: “It wasn’t.”
“Thank fuck for small mercies.” Zabuza ran a hand through his own hair roughly, like he hadn’t just been willing to go to war. Like all of Mandalore wasn’t just on the edge of war.
“You know, you’re going to lose the bounty if you let me go.” Hatake said wryly, cautiously. “Not that I’m ungrateful, or anything.”
“Shut up.” Zazbuza snapped again. “Ade sol’yc. Ratiin.”
He could only hope someone would do the same for him, if he were captured and something happened to Haku.
Children first. Always.
Kakashi hesitated, then nodded. “This is the way.”
Zabuza held out a hand and helped Kakashi up. The man came slowly but surely to his feet.
“Narudar?” He offered when he was stable, lifting his chin to make eye contact again. Zabuza shivered a bit.
“Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it.” He affirmed, instead of correcting the man. Instead of admitting, even to himself, that he already suspected this wasn’t quite a temporary alliance. Instead of acknowledging that if it had been the darksaber[2] this terrifyingly intense man carried, he’d have dropped to his knees and swore himself into service rather than challenge him for it.
Talk about mandokar.
Even beaten down in rags he carried himself like a king.
Hatake’s shoulders slumped a little for the promise, but he did not relax. No Mandalorian could, with his children missing or worse; Zabuza himself would be frothing at the fucking mouth.
Speaking of; going undercover was one thing, but being stripped of armor and weapons was a-wholly-fucking-nother. He unbuckled one of his backup knives and handed it over, sheath and all.
Kakashi took it instantly, strapping it on with quick, practiced motions.
“I can’t believe you quoted the Resol’nare at me.” Zabuza huffed, drawing his own weapon. Kubikuribocho took up half the free space in the damn room and Kakashi’s expression shifted into recognition.
“So, really of Clan E’tad Kad’ade, then.” The man snorted. “A whole five feet of beskar– once a work of art, now a treasure of our people. A symbol of Mandalore.”
“We will get her back.” Zabuza vowed quietly. “One bounty at a time, one adoption at a time– our numbers grow.”
“Agreed.” Hatake sucked in air. “Starting with these shabuir’e who took my fucking kids.”
Zabuza snarled under his breath and passed over his water skein.
“Ke nu’jurkadir sha Mando’ade.” He muttered darkly as Kakashi drank with measured sips. “There are six of them on this ship. How did six take you out?”
Kakashi lowered the skein and passed it back with a grimace.
“Like hut’uun’e, of course.” He growled. “While we were sleeping after a job. Norac chekar’ade.”
“Well, shit.” Zabuza glared at the door. “They were probably planning the same for me, then. Fuckers.”
He spat on the ground.
He knew this job sounded too easy.
“Let’s find out what they did with your kids and then kill them all.” He proposed, meeting those silver eyes.
“Sounds like a plan.” He took a deep breath. “Vor entye.”
“No.” Zabuza denied. “Absolutely not. Fuck you, Hatake. They took your kids. Any one of us would do the same. You don’t owe me anything except half the kills.”
“Deal.” Kakashi said instantly. “Hukaat’kama, Momochi Zabuza. ”
Zabuza laughed under his breath. It wasn’t a happy sound. Some might even call it bloodthirsty.
“Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur.” He said, gently twirling his blade like the demon he had become known for and taking up a position to open the door.
Kakashi drew the long knife he’d been given and stalked forward like a predator.
“Oya.” He said darkly, like a promise and a dare, and shit. What was Zabuza supposed to do with that, if not follow him into the best, bloodiest kind of hell?
It looked like he’d be returning to Haku slightly sooner than planned.
Notes:
1.The nursery rhyme used to teach the Resol’nare, the six tenets of Mandalorian culture. “Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader—all help us survive.” Zabuza cut Kakashi off before he could say ‘all help us survive.’
2. The dark sabre was wielded by the first Mandalorian Jedi Terre Vizsla who then went on to be Mand’alor, leader of the Mandalorians, basically a king. It has gradually come to be associated with the position, enough so that winning the darksaber in combat is like automatically becoming Mand’alor.
“Oya” means Literally: Let’s hunt! Colloquially adapted as a positive and triumphant cheer with potential meanings including “Stay alive!”, “Go you!”, and simply “Cheers!” It’s loosely adjacent to a warcry, like the U.S. Marine’s “ooh-rah.”