BOUND
Chapter 04: Bonding
The next morning the air is stale. I guess Sasuke decided not to be so generous with breakfast today. So I change my clothes and washing up, I amble down the stairs, still half-asleep despite the cold water I'd splashed on my face.
With no food at Sasuke's house—and in fact, after further inspection, no Sasuke—I go into the village to run errands. I need to reregister, pick up supplies for my house, but most importantly, I need food.
I count the change I have in my pocket, frowning at my lack of funds. There won't be much I can afford. I might just have to buy a quick snack before going about my business today. Maybe while I'm at the Administration building, I can pop in an see the Hokage again about my family funds. I had pulled some out for my trip, but there should still be a substantial amount in whatever account the village kept for me. After all, being affiliated with the Uchiha, who were the village's police force and well off in their own right, set up my family comfortably. Not to mention, my family were also the leading private medical practice in Konoha. Whatever patients the village hospital couldn't treat were referred to us, which was oftentimes the case with shinobi. So we were in good business, my family. We were well-off in our own right. We could have survived on our own.
Even at this hour, the streets are crowded with people shopping or socializing. So many people around makes me nervous; I was never one to have many friends as a kid because my parents forced Sasuke and me together, and as a result my social skills were stunted at a young age. Aside from Shikamaru, I never hung out with anyone at or outside of school, especially since all the girls started hating me once they realized how much time I was spending with Sasuke.
I slip through the crowd as best as I can, weaving through the fray so carefully that I don't bump shoulders with anyone. I scan the streets for cheap food vendors I can grab a bite at and find, instead, a group of girls about my age standing in a clump at the corner of a block. The show off their headbands, moving them from their foreheads to their necks to their waists to see which way would suit them best.
The sight of the girls and their fussing distracts me long enough for me to ram into someone's shoulder, spinning them around. I star to apologize to the scowling boy when I recognize him from the other day.
"Oh, Naruto!"
He studies my face before realizing who I am, then he breaks out into a smile and says, "Ren! Sorry, I don't have time to talk. I'm supposed to be meeting Iruka-sensei at Ichiraku's for a celebratory bowl of ramen!"
"What are you celebrating?" I ask dumbly before remembering the graduation.
Sure enough, Naruto says, "Becoming a Genin, of course!"
"But," I say, looking him up and down, "where's your headband?"
"I left it at home," he says, waving his hand under his nose like there's a stench in the air he can't stand. "I don't want to wear it and ruin it before I have to. Yours is looking pretty beat up already."
I touch the metal of my headband, frowning. I'd forgotten again to buff it like I've been meaning to, but there's no reason to bring that up. So I say, "Yeah, silly me. I'll take a note from your book next time, Naruto."
"Hey, you want to come to Ichiraku's with me?" he says, and I am struck by the fact that he is still beaming. Then again, I'd been stuck with Mr. Doom-and-Gloom for the past two days. I don't have much to work with. "It's Iruka-sensei's treat!"
"You know the way to a girl's heart," I say with a wink. "But no, thanks. After intruding on your and Iruka's meal the other day, I think I should let you guys have this to yourselves. I'll see you later though, right? At the orientation?"
Naruto nods vigorously and I start to think there's no end to his enthusiasm. He waves goodbye as he dash off, kicking up dust behind him and bristling some of the villagers he passes.
That boy. I'll be interested to see how the shinobi life treats someone as peppy as him.
I pick up some dumplings from a street vendor and head straight to my house, figuring I would do inventory before I try to assess what tools I need to buy to work on the place.
In the morning light, my house looks even worse and creepier than it had when I first returned. I can see now that the paint is stripping, like someone has taken an apple peeler to it. Some of the windows are broken, cracks spider-webbing from the corners of the panes, and the porch is cracked in places, weeds growing between the floorboards.
I tiptoe onto my porch, thinking it might collapse on me, but the wood doesn't even creak under my weight. I reach for the doorknob, and once I have a firm grasp on it, I can feel the patches where rust is starting to wear it away. I groan in disgust, glad there is a treatment for tetanus, and push my way through.
As it had two nights ago, the door creaks a welcoming, though it's more like a death sentence at this point. Mold could be gathering in some musty corner of my house. Termites could be tearing at the wood right now. I could walk farther in and everything could collapse on me, killing me on the spot, like some kind of twisted revenge because I haven't been a good homeowner.
I shake off the dread, shake off the overactive imagination, and scan the inside of my house. The sunshine that bleeds through the paper-thin curtains of my living rooms allows me to see the dust particles floating in patches. They swim back and forth in the air and without wasting another moment, I slam the door closed.
Later, I think, rushing down my porch and away from my house. I'll do this later.
Looking over my shoulder, I watch as my house recedes behind me, watch as the responsibility drops from my shoulders as soon as my house is hidden behind trees. Rebuilding that house will not be something I can do alone.
As I turn to face the road ahead of me, I get a face full of someone's shirt. Both I and the person I've run into grunt as I stagger back, but he is able to stay his ground. He reaches out to steady me, and I find his hold familiar. I shake my head, clearing it of the dizziness, and look up to see—
"Oh," I say as Sasuke scowls. I rub my nose, squinting through the morning light. "You again. What are you doing here? And why do you keep appearing out of nowhere?"
He arches his brow at me, then his gaze slinks toward my house. "This place is a dump," he says without answering either of my questions.
"Don't think I haven't noticed, Wonder Boy," I grumble, moving around him and down the dirt path that leads back to the middle of the village. He falls into step beside me as I say, "Now you know why I was so desperate to find a place to sleep."
Sasuke doesn't answer, instead turns his gaze to the markets that begin to line the road. "How are you going to fix it up?"
His question surprises me because his tone borders on concerned. But I ignore it, blow my bangs out of my face. "I don't know. Why?" I say as a realization hits me. "You want me out of your house that badly?"
The corner of his lips twitch like it's taking ever fiber of his being not to frown at me. He takes his time gathering his words before he says, "I just don't know how you'll ever get it done on your own."
"You know," I say, holding up a finger, "you haven't answered a single one of my questions since we started this conversation."
Sasuke smirks and without a word, we continue on our way through town, though I don't know where we're going. Sometimes Sasuke leads a turn, and other times I bring us down a side street. Everywhere around us, though, is the sweet aroma of all the food stands that make my mouth water. My stomach snarls, low and feral under the murmur of the crowd around us. The sound doesn't go without Sasuke's notice.
As Sasuke opens his mouth to say something, a whine stabs through the tranquility that we'd created for ourselves, making me flinch.
"Sasuke-kunnn!" comes a girls voice as she shoves through the crowd. She is dressed in purple, with arm warmers that go from her elbows to the middle of her biceps, her headband tied loosely around her waist. Her eyes land on the boy beside me and she ogles at him, clapping her hands together in delight. She pries into the space between me and Sasuke, shoving me aside.
"Sasuke-kun," she says, "what a coincidence it is to see you here."
"I'm sure," I mumble. And though Sasuke and I don't stop or even slow our pace for the girl, she disregards the fact that neither of us are pleased by her presence.
The girl glances at me like she's surprised I'm still here at all, and then turns back to Sasuke, her long blonde ponytail whipping the side of my face. I sputter strands of her hair out of my mouth, as she says, "Who's your new friend, Sasuke-kun? Aren't you gonna introduce me?"
"Actually," I interject, but I'm nonexistent to the girl now. The girl is smitten by the sight of Sasuke; I can practically see the hearts in her eyes.
I'm about to separate myself from the situation when I hear, "INO, YOU PIG! GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF SASUKE-KUN."
The girl next to me, Ino, who hadn't even been touching Sasuke in the first place, latches herself onto his arm now, halting him. It's so abrupt that by the time I've noticed, I've already taken three steps away from them. I look over my shoulder at Sasuke, who leans away from Ino. There is a noticeable gap between his torso and his arm, like he's trying to make his arm detach from his shoulder. I stifle my laughter and fail miserably when a group of about five girls push through the crowd.
The girl at the front of the group, one with a startling shade of pink hair, glares at Ino. There's something faintly familiar about her, the fall of pink on her head, that resonates with me, but I dismiss it as she jabs an accusatory finger at Ino.
"What do you think you're doing?" the other girl demands.
"Oh, Sasuke-kun and I were about to go on a brunch date." Ino smirks and allows the pink haired girl a condescending wink. The vein in the pink haired girl's broad forehead pulses. "I'd invite you along, Sakura, but the reservation is for two only."
"LIAR," Sakura shouts, her fists clenching. The girls behind her agree, planting their hands on their hips. I notice the headbands on their foreheads, tied around their necks. These girls are my competition in the Genin class? If all they're interested in is Sasuke, surpassing them will be easy.
Getting away from them completely, though, will be another story. I could make a run for it now, but then I catch sight of Sasuke, looking pained. I sigh as the fan girls start to squabble amongst each other. I contemplate running away, but I know I can't leave Sasuke. I still need to talk to him. But he can get away on his own, right? After all, the girls are distracted, and he's a member of the Uchiha clan. If he's as good a student as I remember he was, it shouldn't be too hard for him.
Until Ino clutches Sasuke's hand, twining their fingers together and tugs him toward her.. The girls in the group collectively turn beet red, like they're about to have a heart attack in unison. Somehow, they manage to open their mouths as a collective to scream something at Ino, but then I clear my throat and they whirl toward me, only to narrow their eyes.
"Excuse me," I say, brushing past them until I'm standing in front of Ino and Sasuke. I pick up their entangled hands with my forefinger and thumb and carefully peel her hand from his. Once they're apart, I drop their arms back to their sides and step between Sasuke and the horde of girls. I grin at them as I push Sasuke back.
"Sorry to break up the party," I tell them. "I was having a good time watching you all—really, I was—and I'd love to get to know you all someday, but Sasuke and I have business we need to take care of, so we'll have to take a rain check!"
"Who are you?" Sakura demands, and the girls behind her shout in agreement. Ino has even joined her ranks now, watching me with a glare.
"Not really relevant right now," I say, turning. "But nice talking to you bye!" I spin Sasuke around so that I can put my hands on his back and shove him forward, out of the line of fire. I hear the girls protest behind me, but I weave through the crowds well enough that I'm able to shake them off. "You're welcome," I mumble once they're out of earshot.
"I didn't need your help," Sasuke retorts.
"A simple thank you would suffice," I say, sidestepping him so that I can walk at his side. "Anyway, those girls were like harpies. I remember them pining after you when we were kids, but they have gotten so much worse through puberty. How you managed this long, I don't know. I should get pointers from you," I say, pushing my hands into my pockets. "Obviously you know something I don't if you've been able to last here."
We are quiet for a long time after my comment, growing tense as what I've said sinks in. He hasn't lasted here, after all. He was simply here. And if it came down to it, if he had the opportunity I did, he probably would have left a long time ago too.
"Anyway," I say, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "I do have something I want to talk to you about, Sasuke. Why don't I take you up on that brunch date you had with Ino, since I've so inconsiderately forced your hand in cancelling it?"
We pick a restaurant not far from the Ninja Administration building so we can head over there and get registered when we're done eating. As we're waiting for our orders to come out, we don't talk or exchange pleasantries. Sasuke stares at nothing while I stare out the window we're seated by. When I get tired of people-watching, my eyes flick to Sasuke.
He has his hands entwined and leans forward so that his lips are pressed to the sides of his fingers. His eyes are glazed over with thoughts of something I don't try to figure out.
"Why do you always sit so seriously?" I ask. His eyes widen a bit as he is knocked out of his reverie and he regards me blankly. "Don't give me that look. You know exactly what I mean. You always have this—broodiness to you, with your hands clasped together like you're thinking so hard about everything and being philosophical."
Sasuke scoffs as our food comes and the waitress lays it out before us. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? My 'broodiness'?"
"No. But I thought it would be a good ice breaker."
Sasuke stays quiet while I dig into my food, rich, hot rice warming my insides. My belly settles with satisfaction as I swallow. "The thing is," I start tentatively, not knowing where to start. But then something occurs to me and I ask instead, "What were you doing at my house this morning?"
"I wanted to see what it looked like," he says, taking a drink of water. "I thought you were being dramatic. I didn't realize it was actually so bad."
I scoff, saying, "Bad is an understatement. It'll take a miracle to clean that place up. But I'm saying that because the thought of work disgusts me." I slouch in my seat, playing with my food, appetite forgotten at the idea of my badly run down house. "It's hard to believe," I say softly, "that anyone ever lived there, huh?"
Sasuke's silence is all I need to know that he doesn't want to talk about it.
"Anyway," I continue, sitting back up. "You never really said why you were at my house."
"I told you: I just wanted to see how it looked."
"Yeah, okay, but why?"
He blinks at me a few times like he hadn't thought about it before. Then he shrugs as though it doesn't matter. "I was curious."
"Are you sure you didn't come because you wanted to see how long it would take to get me out of your house?" I tease, but it comes out quiet and serious and pathetic.
He pauses, his chopsticks halfway to his dish. "…no," he replies. "That wasn't it."
I sigh, relieved, and close my eyes.
"There's something else you want to ask, though, isn't there? The real reason you wanted to talk."
The abruptness of his voice makes my eyes snap back open in an instant. I regard him steadily, wondering what gave it away. And then something prods my brain to remind me it's there. I scowl. Not three days back and already he's trying to pry into my mind with the bond.
"Don't get inside my head like that," I tell him, annoyed with myself for letting my guard down. "I don't do it to you."
"What is it that you want to ask?" he says again, ignoring my demand. Despite the fact that we had been talking normally before, I find myself freezing up. It's so hard to ask this question, to bring up this topic at all really because of all the resentment and loss and—
I clear my throat and say, "Well, that is…I was wondering if you…if you knew anything about where the bond is. Or, you know, about it in general."
He glances up at me, brow arched, and puts a mouthful of food into his mouth.
"You know what I mean," I say when he doesn't answer. "Sasuke."
"I don't have it," he says finally. "My family has never had it, and my parents never told me anything about the bond. I didn't even know about it until—" He stops, his face falling at an unpleasant memory that I don't press for because I already know.
A dark night, too still, too broken, too fragmented by my unwillingness to recall it.
I purse my lips as he says, "It doesn't matter. All I know is that the bond isn't on the compound."
"How would you know that? Have you tried looking for it?"
"I wouldn't know where to look," he retorts, and it's the ferocity in his voice that makes me flinch. "But it seems to me like you would, since you know all about my house and the little secret hiding spots your parents used to use."
"I've already checked everywhere though," I blurt and Sasuke eyes me carefully. I cover my face with my hands, say, "Before I left, I—I went through your house. I checked everywhere my parents would have thought to hide it, and some other places, but—there was nothing."
When I finish, there's silence. I can hear people talking at the tables and booths around us, can feel their feet clomping and their hearty laughs, can hear their breaths and hearts in time with my own. At last, I look up from my dish to find Sasuke watching me with disgust. I recoil back into my seat as best I can, but it does nothing to ease the fury in his gaze.
"Then what makes you think I have it," he says tightly, "when you've apparently searched my house so thoroughly?"
I fiddle with my thumbs, say, "Secrets. Your family has so many secrets, I just thought—"
He pushes his plate away from him and stands. Without another word to me, he leaves.
"Hey!" I call after him, stopping a few groups next to us mid-conversation. Their eyes flick between Sasuke and me, waiting for a showdown, but when he doesn't turn around, they go back to their meals, whispering. I scowl, pushing my plate away as well.
As I chuck my chopsticks on the table, a realization strikes me and I groan, slapping a hand to my face.
The bastard left me with the bill.
[+]
I have to sit through a lecture by the restaurant owner about how kids these days have no respect and how I had probably come in here hoping for a free meal by making up my sad story and having my boyfriend walk out on me before a neighboring party takes pity on me and pays my tab for me.
I thank them with every fiber of my being before I set off to the Ninja Administration building to get reregistered, where I have to sit through another lecture from the Hokage about how he expects great things from me and he can see me doing well on a team, despite my attitude, which he believes will be rectified as soon as we finish a few missions and I die a little inside with every moment I have to spend with him.
Once I'm released, I decide to go back to my house and at the very least start sorting through the boxes lying around my living room. I mean, there's nowhere else for me to go.
I manage up the front porch, unchanged from when I'd visited this morning. Gathering up my nerve, I open the door and walk in, leaving the door wide open again—just in case. I maneuver around my living room and shove the curtains cover the window aside, opening the window to allowed the dust out and fresh air in. I sigh, leaning my forehead against the chilled window.
I breathe.
I hold onto the window sill and lean back, glancing over my shoulder to see what I should sort through first. I decide to plop down in front of the box at my feet and start there.
The box greets me with a kiss of dust when I open it. I hold my breath and wait for the dust to fly out the window before inhaling. I still sneeze. Wiping my nose, I push the flaps of the box down so they don't get in my way. The first item on top of the pile of junk is a picture. The edges have ripened and turned yellow, but it is otherwise in pristine condition.
I hold it up to the light to make sure what I'm looking at is authentic. Sure enough, the sun glints across the glossy surface of the photo, setting the colors ablaze.
It's a photo of me and my parents. My mom has me in her hands, held high above her head. I have my arms and legs spread-eagle, and this look of pure bliss on my face as though I really can fly. My father sits at my mother's feet, arms crossed, looking irritated, but in the fond way that parents do. There's no real annoyance behind it. At least, I don't think. He was always good at hiding what he truly felt. Or maybe it was that I was good at ignoring it.
The photo clutches at my heart. I stuff it back into the box roughly. The sound of it crinkling and possibly ripping brings me a guilty kind of satisfaction that really does nothing for me.
I stare into the box, wondering if this is the kind of endeavor I really want to take on when I've just returned from a mission I'd assigned myself, a mission that, if they were alive today, my parents would have condemned. But it's because they are not alive today that I am doing this. It's because they are not alive today that I will go to such great heights to break this bond.
For me, this is the revenge that will finally give me closure for the death of my family.
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