Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters or places in the Naruto world. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: Enter Ren!
My feet dragged with every step, shuffling along the gritty pavement of the parking lot as I walked to my car after practice. Every plant of each foot led to a sharp and achy pain in my shins and feet, and a dead feeling that resonated throughout my legs. My hamstrings were sore, my back was sore, my feet felt like every bone was fractured, and my knees felt like they had been though 80 years of life even though I was only 17. Why did track have to suck so much and why was I so devoted to it? I never really understood why I kept going out for it every year, running sucked.
After what seemed like an eon of walking, I finally reached my car, a usual shiny black Ford Escape that was now covered in dust from the corn field next to our school. Exhausted as I was, I still had the energy to wave goodbye to my teammates.
"Nice job today Kari! See ya later Emi!" I called as I climbed into my car. Thank goodness I could just go home and relax. My homework was done and all I had to do was lay in my warm, cozy bed and watch my guilty pleasure, Naruto. I got hooked on the anime in middle school and it had stuck with me ever since. So often I daydreamed of being a part of the shinobi world. Everyone had such strong friendships in the Leaf Village and the Akatsuki were such bad-asses. Maybe if I could be like them all this training would seem more worth-while.
Driving through town to get home after practice always seemed to take just as long as it took to get to my car, forever, even though the drive was actually relatively quick. I lived in a small town with just a few thousand people. Many might not even call it a town because of how small it was, but I called it home.
I slowed to a gradual stop as I pulled off the side of the road in front of the quaint, yellow house that my family resided in. It took forever to get my aching body and my bulging schoolbag and sports bag into the house. Each bag felt like it was full of rocks. My mother greeted me in the kitchen as she laid a chicken breast into a glass pan.
"Hi Ren, how was school today?" she asked cheerfully. I set my stuff down with a loud thud that shook the floor as I let out a long groan.
"School was easy, but practice was sooooo awful today. I'll never understand the benefit of running 16 repeat 200s." I shook my head.
"Well I'm sure coach knows what he's doing. In the meantime you'll have plenty of food for dinner tonight to recover. I'm making your favorite, seasoned chicken with rice and broccoli," she mentioned as she set the pan onto the top rack of the oven. The small lines next to her mouth creased as she smiled. Even with the thin lines of age on her face and the silver hairs peeking through her dark brown hair, my mom was still beautiful. I continuously hope that I age that well.
"That makes everything better already. Thanks mom, I needed that," I answered gratefully. I blinked long and slow and smiled a heavy smile, "I'm going to go wash up before dinner."
"Ok sweetie, dinner will be ready in 30 minutes," she called. I nodded in acknowledgement and trudged through the living room and down the hallway toward my room. Clothes were quickly selected from my dresser based on comfort and I headed to the welcome of the steamy, hot water of the shower. It was sweet relief to my aching body. For a while I just stood there, not wanting to get on with shampooing and covering my body with suds because it meant that I was closer to leaving the warmth of the falling water. I glanced at my running watch for a moment. 15 minutes! I had already been in here for 15 minutes! My inner environmentalist was screaming at me for my wastefulness. This and the approaching dinner time forced me to start washing. In no time I was out of the shower and combing through my wavy, sandy-colored hair before it became dried and became unmanageable. While I was staring at my tanned reflection and into my brown eyes in the steamy mirror across from the shower, I heard a knock on the door and a deep voice.
"Hi Ren, are you ready to continue our game of chess after dinner?" asked the warm, comforting voice of my dad. I had completely forgotten that we had started a new game a few nights ago. Ever since I could remember, my dad and I have played a long series of chess games. He taught me every rule and every role that was a part of the game. It was our thing, and even though I was exhausted, I replied, "Sure thing, dad."
I finished dressing in the shapeless comfort-ware that I had picked out and headed out to dinner.
The room was saturated with silence and concentration as I sat opposite my dad and stared at our beaten-up chess board. It had been an hour of both of us sitting in our dimly lit living room and each of us had only taken a single turn. Chess was a game of wit and strategy, and my dad taught me to take that to heart. Search for every option, look for any openings, and predict your opponent's moves in order to guard against them. He claimed enthusiastically on multiple occasions that this was a useful life skill and to never forget it. I had heard it a million times, so much so that I recalled it whenever we played.
His hand reached for his queen piece in what seemed like slow motion, picked it up, and set it back down only a few squares away from my king. I let out a gasp. My exhaustion must have phased me during the game because in my own distracted thoughts, I had completely zoned out of every move that had transpired since we moved our first pieces. In that moment I noticed his well-positioned knight and rook sitting in in the formation of an excellent trap.
"Checkmate."
And with that, I let out a long groan and flopped backward onto our tan carpeted floor in the most dramatic way I could muster. How could I have missed that trap? I rarely miss things like that anymore! I even won the past few games. Did he have this up his sleeve the whole time? I can't believe I zoned out like that!
"Ha ha Ren, I guess you could say I studied up a little bit since you started a winning streak," my dad chuckled and scratched his head nonchalantly.
"Yeah yeah, I see you old man. I'll get you next time," I retorted, rolling my eyes in response.
"You might have to do a little studying," he winked, "but in the meantime, I'd say it's time for you to get to bed, sweetie. You look exhausted."
Yes, I was still on the floor, and yes, my dad was making fun of me.
"Very funny, dad. I think my tiredness got in the way of the game, so you got out of losing this time," I grinned. I sat up and picked up my phone that had been sitting next to me during the game "Good night, dad. You may have won this time, but I demand a rematch this weekend."
"Good night, Ren. I look forward to another win this weekend."
And with that, I walked slowly to my cozy little bedroom at the end of the hall. I stripped down to my granny-styled, comfy underwear and crawled into my double sized bed with way too many covers on it. There was just something about sleeping with little clothes on and lots of blankets that always seemed comforting to me. Exhaustion hit me in a wave as I switched off the light and stumbled toward my bed. After my head hit the pillow, I dosed off almost instantaneously and somehow slipped into a fitful dream of being trapped on a chessboard with no way out.