BOUND
Part I
Chapter 01: The Inevitable Return of Kagiru Ren

When I was young, there was a massacre in my village. It happened down the street from my family compound, and it was all anyone could talk about for a very long time. I knew about it and, despite being the tender age of seven, knew what it was about: A bright, promising young shinobi named Uchiha Itachi, barely thirteen years old, had wiped out his entire clan in a single night, sparing only his little brother to bear the weight of the loneliness that was to come.

I left the village a little bit after that massacre happened, on a mission of my own, one that ended up taking five very long years. As I said, I was only seven at the time, but I wasn't on my own. Sandaime Hokage had assigned an ANBU team to look out for me and follow me for the greater part of the five years until I was able to shake them off by sneaking into the Wind Country on a circus caravan.

That was one of my finer moments.

Seven year olds aren't normally allowed to go on self-assigned missions to reclaim their family honor. I was the exception. I think the Hokage felt like he owed me something, although I couldn't say what. I mean, he's not the one who killed my family.

The old geezer drums his fingers together now, lips pulled taut as I stand before him, hands clipped behind my back. His office is the same as I remember it, give or take a few papers coating his desk. Books cram the shelves lining his walls, and the wide windows behind him frame a perfect view of the village. The office smells like stale tobacco, evidence of his bad habit.

He leans forward in his seat, sizing me up. "Kagiru Ren," he says. "You're late, you know."

I flick at the dirt under my nails. "Not hardly," I say.

"The graduation is tomorrow."

"Then I'd say I'm right on time."

"I had been expecting you to come back a bit earlier," he says, sighing, "so we could have placed you in this year's class, which would have uncomplicated things significantly."

"Also, the Village Council was annoyed when they found out they couldn't track one of the Leaf's oldest kekkei genkai, right?" I say, offering a sharp smile.

The Hokage frowns at me, but relents. "Yes, that was a concern to the Council, but it was second to your wellbeing."

"Sure it was," I say, rolling my eyes. I tap the headband I have strapped around my forehead, my nails clicking against the metal dulled with time and travel. "As far as my graduation goes, though, I don't need that experience. I've told you that before: I'm not interested in this 'forming bonds' thing that you want me to do. Do you think I'd want to run around forming bonds when I've nearly spent the past five years trying to break one?"

"I only thought," he says gently, like he's coaxing a child, "you would want to replace a bond you hate with many you love."

I shake my head. "You only say that because you don't understand my situation. So, no, thank you, Hokage-sama, but I'll pass on this one."

The Hokage raises a brow, says, "I take it you haven't gotten any closer to breaking the bond than before you left, then?"

I tense, my hands rolling into fists. "No," I admit, avoiding the old man's gaze.

There is a pause, then the Hokage says, "Regardless, when you left, you made a deal with me."

"In exchange for allowing me to leave the village," I say with a heavy sigh, "I would have to graduate from the Academy, go through a few survival training courses, pass them with flying colors, and return the year that kids my age were graduating."

"The year before the kids your age would be graduating," the Hokage corrects. "For the most part, you fulfilled your agreement. You completed your training, left, and are back. I am impressed. The second part of the deal, however, was that you were to retake this year at the Academy and graduate with your class. You are late, Ren, and by a considerable amount, too; now you have repercussions to pay."

"I—repercussions?" I repeat, the composure I had felt now faltering. "But—I'm not even that late!"

"There are always consequences. You must accept that fact," the Hokage says, "especially as a shinobi. Your punishment will not be as bad as you think," he goes on when I groan, planting my face in my hands. "Seeing as it is your first day back, I will give you time to get settled before I tell you about your punishment. I will see you tomorrow, Ren. Oh, and make sure you take off your headband before anyone sees you. We don't want people asking questions."

Despite my protests, I'm dismissed. I pull my headband off my forehead, shoving it into my bag. The Hokage nods in approval and I shoulder my knapsack, trudging out of his office. Not an hour back and I'm already fed up with this place. I should really have considered relocating. It might be the place where I spent the first seven yeasr of my life, but now—there's nothing left for me here.

I step outside into the glaring Konoha sunlight, shielding my eyes with my hand. A breeze shrugs by, rustling the trees and bringing the sweet scene of autumn to me. I may not be attached to anything in this village, but the scenery is one thing I can appreciate about Konoha. There is ample flora for me to bask in the shade of, for me to observe and pull together to make medicine. The trees are the only things keeping me rooted.

I am threading through the trees in the park, jumping from shadow to shadow like a child avoiding the imaginary lava, when I hear my name. It makes me freeze in my tracks, makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle as I jump to the defensive. That I have let my guard drop that I only noticed someone once they have gotten close enough to recognize me is a testament to this village's ability to make me weak.

But the boy I see is no threat to me. In fact, the sight of him makes me straighten, makes a smile burst to my lips. He regards me with his brow drawn together in confusion, his hands shoved in his pockets. A shadow from the branches above cuts across his face, but I would recognize the slump of his shoulders and the stub of his ponytail from any angle.

"Well, if it isn't Nara Shikamaru," I say. "Funny seeing you here."

He pauses for a moment, blinking at me like he's making sure I'm real before he answers. Then he steps forward, into the light, his head cocked to the side. He has a pointed chin, just a little bit of childhood pudginess along the line of his jaw. "I could say the same about you," he says, scowling. "What are you doing here? How long have you been back?"

"One, I live here," I say, "two, I've only been back a few hours! I had to talk to the Hokage a bit to get some things settled, but—I'm here."

"Yeah," he says, tilting his head back in thought. There is another pause as he takes me in, and I wonder if this situation feels as awkward for him as I feel. Nara Shikamaru. We had been best friends before I left the village, but time and distance could take a toll on any relationship, no matter how strong it is. Was. I had no contact with anyone in the village after I left, though if there were anyone I would have liked to talk to while I was away, it was Shikamaru.

He shakes his head, breaking out of his reverie, and says, "I thought you went to live with some relatives in the next town over."

Ah, there it is—the lie the Hokage had told people when I disappeared. The bond isn't necessarily a secret: those savvy enough to know about it know about it. But before I was born, the bond had been out of the cosmic rotation since nearly the founding of Konoha, so, really, only those inclined to believe in myths and legends think the bond is a real thing.

If I had stayed in the village, grown up beside Shikamaru, I might have told him at the very least. As it is, though, no one in my generation—save for one other person—should know about this bond I have.

In my anxiety to feed this lie the Hokage had created, I move my hand to my forehead, ready to adjust my headband when I remember how I had taken it off in the Hokage's office. The one sound piece of advice the Hokage had given me during that whole meeting.

"I did," I say with a shrug, moving my hands behind my back to keep them occupied. My smile is a tight line across my face. "But they let me come back so I could graduate with the class."

Skepticism braces his features. "Were you being homeschooled?" he asks, and I nod, quick to agree to any lie that makes sense. He considers this for a moment, but then leaves it alone, plopping down into the grass. Typical Shikamaru, I think as he stretches out in the shade. Curious enough to wonder, but too lazy to dig any deeper.

"Same old Shikamaru, huh?" I ask, nudging him with my foot. "The exams are tomorrow, right? How do you expect to pass if you don't study or practice?"

"I've been practicing all week," he says, frowning and scooting away from my prodding toes. "Anyway, it probably won't be anything so hard that I need to train extensively for it. We're only gonna be Genin, after all—the lowest of the low."

"That's no way to think of it. At least you—we will be ninja, finally."

He scoffs, his scowl deepening as he closes his eyes. "Yeah, but once we're full-fledged ninja, we'll have to go on missions and do menial tasks for people, and all that work is—"

"I know, I know: troublesome." I laugh, dropping my knapsack into the grass beside Shikamaru. "Man, Shika, you haven't changed at all."

Shikamaru shrugs, opening one eye to ask me, "Well, you don't seem to have changed much either. So I'd say we're even."

I scoff and lean down to flick his broad forehead, causing him to flinch. "Is that a challenge?"

"No."

"Too bad. You're on." I drag Shikamaru to his feet then move to the other side of the small clearing. I present the seal of confrontation with my right hand, my index and middle fingers side by side while my others curl toward my palm. "Just a little sparring match," I say, "so I can see how much you've grown."

"I came here to relax," he complains, his hands remaining shoved in his pockets. But when I maintain my form, Shikamaru slumps, mirrors the seal. "It's going to be so much more troublesome with you back, Ren."

I grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."

[+]

It ends like this: Shikamaru has me stuck in place with his shadow technique, and we stand face-to-face with our hands on our knees, our shoulders drooping under the weight of our fatigue. We both breathe heavily, beads of sweat spotting our brows, as I wait for Shikamaru's shadow to lose substance, for me to be free again.

He must have something in mind to finish off the battle as he raises his head to glare at me. He's smart, after all, smarter than I could ever dream of being, though no one would ever know given his penchant for laziness.

But he lets his shadow thin out, lets me free, lets his knees give out under him as I laugh.

"That wasn't so bad," I say, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. I move toward him, offer him two fingers in the seal of reconciliation. He glares at my hand before taking it, and I sit down beside him as he releases my fingers. "Your shadow technique is a lot stronger than I remember."

"I could say the same for you with your vibrations," he says as I rub my arm, feeling the sting of small cuts on my skin. "Your guardians must have trained you hard. Too hard, if you ask me."

I hum, pressing a hand over the cuts on my arm, my chakra seeping into my flesh, healing. "Just wanted to make sure I kept up with the rest of you guys at the Academy," I say, taking Shikamaru's arm and laying my hand over the burn I'd given him, dragging him across the park grounds. "Sorry about this."

He watches me heal him and, when I move my hand away, he turns his arm over, searching for the burn that had been there moments ago. Shikamaru scowls, shakes his head, and says, "I'd nearly forgotten about your medical ninjutsu. To be honest, I think you've gotten much better than the rest of us at the Academy."

"You're too kind," I say, checking the sky. The sun hangs low, an hour maybe before sunset. That image in conjunction with the low rumble in my stomach tells me that it's about time for dinner. "Anyway," I say, getting to my feet. I offer Shikamaru a hand and pull him up. "It's getting late. We should get home and rest before the test tomorrow."

"Do you want to come over?" Shikamaru says, patting the grass off his pants. "My parents would be happy to see you again. Besides, Mom would kill me if she found out you'd come back and I didn't invite you over."

I laugh, raking a hand through my hair. Blades of grass come off in my hands, and I shake them out, saying, "Thanks, but I have a few errands left to run before I call it a night. Tell them I said hi though, and insist that you did everything you could to make me come over, but I refused. I'll vouch for you when I see them later."

Shikamaru's lips lilt in a small smile of amusement. "I'll see you later then, Ren," he says, turning on his heels. But then he pauses, glances at me over his shoulder. Frowns. "I'm glad you're home."

I wink at him, waggling my fingers at him in goodbye. I watch him as he retreats, waiting for him to completely disappear into the distance before picking up my knapsack and going on my way. Even in the evening, the sunshine beats down on me, making me especially hot after my training.

Without my headband on, my hair ruffles into my eyes, irritating them and making them water. I try to push the loose strands behind my ear, but it's too short to stick. Moments like these I wish I hadn't been so hasty to cut my hair this short so many years ago, or bothered to keep it this way. But short hair is less of a hassle, especially during combat.

There are more important things for shinobi to worry about than their hair.

The village is half-empty as I wind through it, the setting sun adding a golden tint to the village, making the people who are out and about glow like brilliant, moving gold statues. They hustle their kids along, holding onto last minute groceries for the night's dinner. Under their rushed faces, they have a sense of calm and unconcern. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I amble past the shops, past the delicious smells emanating from shops I can't afford to splurge on at the moment. My stomach whines in protest, begging for a taste of something. I give it a sympathetic pat. It replies with another dismal grumble.

Distracted by the cramps rolling around in my abdomen, I bump shoulders with someone, hard enough to bring the both of us to a stop. They knock me sideways a bit, forcing me to face them, and I am met with exuberantly blue eyes, heightened by spikey blonde hair. The boy stares back at me, the lens of the goggles stretched over his forehead glinting in the setting sunlight.

I vaguely recognize him from years ago, an obnoxious boy who always disrupted class with his outrageous claims and pranks. Not to mention, once, when my father came to pick me up from school and found me playing with him and a few other boys, my father regarded the boy with disdain, told me, "He harbors a dark spirit within him, Ren. I don't want you playing with him again."

It was later that my father explained what he meant by 'dark spirit.' The boy was a jinchuuriki, a human container for the Nine-Tails Fox that had attacked our village twelve years ago.

It didn't take me long to figure out that he couldn't have possibly known about what he held inside him. He was too light, too brilliant, too normal. Or maybe, like me, he was just really good about hiding his burden.

"Sorry," I mumble to him, ready to move past him without any indication that I knew him once, but then my name is called, bringing me to a stop.

An older man comes up beside us, greeting me with a wide smile. A puckered scar cuts across the bridge of his nose, touching either cheek. It moves slightly as he says, "Ren-chan! The Hokage told a few of us at the Academy that you were back. How lucky it is that we've run into you. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, hi, Iruka. Sensei," I add quickly, almost forgetting my manners. Being on your own for five years could do that to you. Anyway, I never liked using honorifics. They're too stuffy for someone like me. "It's nice to see you again. I'm surprised you recognized me after so long."

"A teacher never forgets his students," he says, and motions to the boy beside him. "Some introductions might be in order, though. Ren-chan, this is Uzumaki Naruto. Naruto, Kagiru Ren. You might remember each other; the two of you were in the same class back at the Academy many years ago."

Naruto scrutinizes me, squinting his eyes to slits. "Yeah, I remember," he says, frowning. "You were the girl who got all quiet one day and the disappeared all together. What happened to you?"

Iruka shifts on his feet, looking nervous, but I save him from having to answer by saying, "Konoha wasn't doing it for me anymore. I went to stay with family in the next town over, but now I'm back to graduate with you."

Naruto looks affronted, jabs a finger at me and says, "Hey, Iruka-sensei, that's not fair, is it? If she didn't train with us, we can't be sure that she's strong enough to become a Genin."

"Well, you know what they say," I say with a tight smile. "He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good."

Naruto blinks at me, uncomprehending. Iruka takes advantage of Naruto's dull moment and says, quickly, "So, Ren-chan, what do you have planned for tonight? Would you like to come to Ichiraku's Ramen Shop for dinner with us?"

I'm about to shake my head no, insist that I have business at home, but then Naruto's mouth opens with incredulity. "But, but, but!" he protests. "It was supposed to be just you and me, Iruka-sensei!"

"I would love to go," I say, happily taking part in Naruto's discontentment, and after talking Naruto out of a tantrum, Iruka leads the way to the shop.

It's a humble shop, with only a few stools lined beneath a bar. The owner seems to know Naruto well, greeting the boy by name and asking, "Your usual?" which Naruto confirms with an enthusiastic nod. I let Iruka order for me while I slide into the seat beside Naruto, drumming my fingers against the bar.

We indulge in mindless chatter until our food arrives, then Naruto becomes much too preoccupied with his dish to even say a word. He slurps up his noodles with a satisfied grin while Iruka smiles over at him, a kind, fond smile that's disarming and makes me feel as though I am intruding on a moment. I busy myself with my food when Naruto takes a moment to breathe, looking at me briefly before asking, "So, is there a Ninja Academy where you were, too?"

I swallow my mouthful, shaking my head. "No. I trained with—my family," I say, shrugging. "For the most part, I trained on my own when my family was too busy to look out for me."

Something about what I've said makes Naruto's face drop. He stares at his goggles, which he's taken off and placed on the bar, and says, "Ah."

Iruka watches Naruto with concern, lowering his chopsticks into his bowl. He says, "Naruto? Can I ask you something? Why did you deface the Hokage monuments this morning? Don't you know who the Hokage are?"

I nearly choke. There is a monument of the faces of our current and past Hokage carved into the cliff side overlooking Konoha. Their eyes are unblinking and unnerving, in my opinion, but they are a great symbol of the strength of our leaders, and a pride to the village. There can't be any other monument they're talking about, at least not that I know of, and to deface them is possibly the greatest disrespect to our village. Despite this, Iruka doesn't sound like he's scolding Naruto, or like he's leading into a lecture.

Naruto opens his hands, waving his arms around him to make his point as he says, "Of course! Those who receive the Hokage name are the strongest in the village, and among them is Yondaime Hokage, a hero who saved the village from a fox demon!"

I flinch, concentrating on my food, pretending I don't know what I do.

"Then why did you deface the monument?" says Iruka, confused.

"One day," Naruto says, suddenly gaining momentum, "I'm going to receive the Hokage name and then I'm going to surpass all the previous Hokage!" He uses his chopsticks to point at Iruka, the broth flinging around the restaurant. "And then, and then, I'll make the village recognize my strength!"

This time, I really do choke. I cough into the crook of my elbow, drawing Iruka and Naruto's attention, and attempt to wave them away. "I'm fine," I wheeze, when I regain my breath. "Sorry, sorry."

At my insistence, Naruto turns back to Iruka, holding his hands together as though in prayer. He bows his head and says, "Anyway, sensei, I have a request."

"What? You want seconds?"

"No," Naruto says, and then, "Well, yes, but something else. Can I…borrow your Leaf headband?"

Surprised, Iruka reaches up to touch the metal of his headband before adjusting it. "This? No, no," he says. "This is for after you've graduated. This is a symbol that you've come of age. Maybe you'll get one tomorrow."

Even though my headband sits in my knapsack at my feet, I feel like I am suddenly guilty of some crime and the headband is incriminating evidence. I hop to my feet and scoop up my knapsack, pulling it over my shoulders before another word can be passed between Iruka and Naruto. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and skip on home first," I say as Naruto and Iruka look up from their conversation. "I'll see you tomorrow for the exam."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay longer?" Iruka says as Naruto orders seconds without his approval.

"Yes," I say, digging through my pockets for money, but Iruka stays me with his hand, saying, "No, it's all right, Ren-chan. It's on me. A welcome home gift of sorts. Naruto, say goodbye."

Naruto frowns as a young lady removes the empty bowls from the bar. He quirks his brow at me like I've shown up with the sole intention of ruining his time with his sensei. "Later," he grumbles, and turns away.

"Naruto," Iruka admonishes.

"It's okay," I say. "I hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot today, Naruto. You seem like an okay guy by my book. I'll see you later."

I wave to Iruka one last time, and as I push aside the flags that hang over the shop's entrance, I hear a feeble muttering of, "I'll see you later, Ren."

I tilt my head back, wondering if he had intended for me to hear that, but go on without acknowledging him. If fate permits it, I'll definitely see Uzumaki Naruto again.

Whether I allow fate to get in my way, however, is a whole other story.

The path through the residential area where I live is dark and empty, with most of the families already inside, probably snuggling into bed with their bellies full. I sigh at the thought, my own full stomach lulling me to sleep. Not much longer, I tell myself, and I'll be able to fall into my childhood bed and sleep better than I have in five years.

I scoff at my optimism.

My house hasn't been lived in for five years. Chances are, it's completely in ruins, with weeds overtaking the yard, the porch rotted through with termites and weird woodland creatures making nests in the burrows. Maybe the roof has even caved in and the windows broken by the stones of careless kids, maybe vandalized walls, a boarded doorway.

My house comes into view as I think this, shimmering in the moonlight—or in my fatigue. It is indeed shabby-looking, but it still maintains its frame: no caved-in roof, no broken windows or boarded up doors. There are weeds growing wildly, but it's not so out of control that I can't see the path leading up to my door. I'm tempted to sigh with relief, but then I remember I haven't seen the inside yet.

If I can get inside, I realize. Because I don't have the key to my own house.

I freeze at the foot of my porch, scowling. Of course I don't have the key to my house. I mean, I did at one point, but it was likely lost during all the rapid unpacking and repacking that I had done. I groan, slapping a hand to my face, wondering why I hadn't thought about this in advance.

It's an old house, with shanty locks that haven't been changed in years. Maybe I can break in? I ascend the porch steps, taking the doorknob in my hand. It is cold, slightly rusted, indicative of weakness. I take a deep breath and turn the knob.

It sticks.

I jiggle it harder. Nothing. I yank on it, trying to pull it out of its socket, and then push against it to see if I've managed to weaken or loosen it a bit. The door remains unyielding.

I groan again, frustrated, and drop my forehead against my door with a soft bang. A dull ringing reverberates through my brain, followed by an equally dull pain. I pay no mind to it, weighing whether I should just kick the door down. I decide against it, considering I don't want—or really have the money, I don't think—to replace the door. Besides, I don't want any critters or creepy crawlies coming into my house while I sleep once I can get inside.

There is a spare key to the house, but it isn't hidden here.

"God," I grumble. "It's going to be a long night."