In another life, I hug Shikamaru close, hold him so tightly there's no doubt about how I feel. I another life, I hug him and I don't let go, even when the war starts. It makes up for all the lost time, for all the moments I missed in between.

Instead, I lower my eyes, shame flooding my face. I can't bear the way he looks at me like I'm a stranger. How could he not? How could we pretend to know each other after three years of being apart?

Except I know — I know exactly where I stand when it comes to him. I know exactly what I want and how I feel. I know. I've known. It took three years of loving Sasuke and being let down by him to understand what I'd always had with Shikamaru.

But I don't say it. I can't.

Shikamaru takes me to the interrogation building, where Ino, Ino's father Inoichi, and Ibiki, a proctor from the Chuunin exams, ask me question after question. I share everything, though none of it is especially helpful in preparing for the war. It is helpful in letting me free and earning trust back. Inoichi takes me by the shoulders before I leave and says, "It's good to have you home."

Shikamaru and Ino are speaking in hushed tones when I come out of the interrogation room. Ino looks up and swallows her words as soon as she sees me. She stands straight, her hands curled into fists.

My gut reaction is to grow angry and defensive. In the recesses of Orochimaru's hideouts, I would have lashed out and shown Ino exactly how it feels to be looked down on, to prove through physical force that I deserve to be here. That I have earned my right to be here.

But back in Konoha, where everything is warm and soft and tender, I lower my eyes in deference. I don't say hi to her. I haven't spoken a word to Shikamaru either and I can't bring myself to start now.

"Hey, Ren," Ino says. "My dad says you – it went well. Thank you for sharing everything."

"Yeah," I say. "It wasn't much. They knew most of it already."

"It was helpful," Ino says. "It confirms what we know. It means we can move more confidently."

"Oh," I say, noticing that Shikamaru keeps his eyes trained on the floor. "Okay."

Ino nods and takes my hand. "If anything else comes up," she says, "you can talk to me, okay? You don't have to come back to this building – it has a terrible atmosphere. I keep telling my dad they need to redecorate, but it's part of the interrogation aesthetic to be dark and scary like this. Come on – let me walk you two out."

I watch Shikamaru's back as he walks ahead of me. I outline the curve of his shoulders, the angles of his elbows as he shoves his hands in his pockets. If I met his eyes, I would have to tilt my head back. I would have to look up to reach him now.

Ino nudges me, and then hooks her arm through mine. "He won't bite your head off, you know," she says, pulling me after Shikamaru. "Shikamaru's not that type of guy. He still cares for you."

Ino talks more as she guides us out. She tells me about how things have been since I left, tells me about how cute she thinks Sai is, tells me how she has been looking for more opportunities to flirt with him, but it has been impossible given the circumstances. I listen to Ino with all the confusion of someone who is not totally interested and also unsure of why she is talking with me so casually, like nothing has changed.

Outside in the sunlight, I squint at the village, which I've barely gotten to see. Naruto and Sakura told me that most of it was destroyed in an attack by the Akatsuki. But the parts of it I've seen have all looked familiar, as though nothing has really changed, as though I was here the whole time through the reconstruction.

Ino talks with Shikamaru a bit more as I examine the soft yellow buildings trimmed with red, the paint still fresh from the village reconstruction. I trace the telephone lines, following them across the sky. I watch the new, thin trees move in the breeze, the way the slick surfaces of the leaves catch the sunlight. One of the leaves snaps off the branches and flutters down, whirling and spinning, falling in loops. I hold out my hand and catch the leaf between my fingers.

I press my thumb against the leaf, against its smooth surface and the veins beneath it, remembering an old concentration exercise we used to do at the Academy. I close my eyes and hold the leaf to my forehead. The sun still cuts through my eyelids, despite the darkness.

"Ren."

Shikamaru and Ino both watch me. I tuck the leaf behind my back, wondering if they have been watching me the whole time or just caught me in the act.

Ino stretches out her arms and pulls me into a hug and holds onto me for a little too long. She presses a hand between my shoulder blades and says, "Welcome home, Ren."

Ino waves to us from the doors of the interrogation building, and then it's me and Shikamaru again. I spin the leaf between my fingers and wait for his direction.

Shikamaru sighs. "I'm supposed to take you to your assigned temporary lodgings now," Shikamaru says, tapping his foot. "It won't be that accommodating, and there won't be any food there for you."

"It's – okay," I say after a pause, surprised by what sounds like concern. "I'm – I've been in worse."

Shikamaru shakes his head, and I can't tell if it's because he's upset to hear that or because he's irritated with me. He rubs the back of his neck and says, "It won't be comfortable. You had a long trip back from the Land of Iron, and I bet you're hungry. You should just come stay with my family."

"Come – hey," I say as Shikamaru walks away. I follow, keeping a short distance behind him as I've been doing this whole time. I could take his shoulder, make him stop and listen. I don't.

"Wait," I say.

Shikamaru pauses, half turns so that I can only see his ear. I dig my heels into the ground, but it's too late – I'm too close to him, only an arm's length away, the closest we've been since I've returned.

"All I mean is," I say, "are you sure? I don't – your parents…"

"My parents," he says, "will be excited to see you. Come on. They won't mind."

Shikamaru walks ahead without waiting for me. In my nervousness, I shred the leaf, sprinkling a trail of it behind me like it will help me find an escape if everything goes terribly.

When we reach his house, Shikamaru opens the door and calls for his parents. I barely have my sandals off when Yoshino and Shikaku come into the foyer. They freeze when they see me.

"Hello," I say, unable to meet their eyes, "Yoshino-bachan, Shikaku-jisan. It's—"

"Ren-chan!" Yoshino hugs me, squeezing me so tightly that I can't breathe. Shikaku wraps his arms around us too, holding us together. "Ren-chan, oh, you're back – you're—"

"Ren-chan," Shikaku says. "Hey, kiddo, we're so glad to have you back. Let's get a good look at ya—"

They let me go and drag me into the house, talking about how tall I am, how beautiful I've become, how much stronger I must be. Yoshino talks about what she made for dinner, but how she knows that I like curry and eggs and, oh, maybe she should try the omurice recipe someone shared with her the other day, and Shikaku is saying that he'll get my room ready for me and that Yoshino shouldn't worry about trying a new recipe tonight, what she's made is fine, and my room will be ready in a minute so if I'm tired, I can fall asleep right away if I want to and skip dinner all together, an idea Yoshino dismisses.

Yoshino guides me into the kitchen and points at all the things she's made, and now Shikaku is setting the table and telling me I'm going to sit right next to him. And as they move around me, I feel my chest tighten, feel an overwhelming love bubbling up, feel the goodness and mercy overflowing. One by one, Yoshino and Shikaku take down the shadows that were following me, cutting through them until the shadows that once swarmed me are nothing but sparks of light.

If Sasuke knew that his return would be like this, would he change his mind?

"Ren-chan?" Yoshino stops, a ladle in her hand. She reaches for my face, pressing her fingers to my cheek. "Oh, Ren-chan, what's wrong?"

I back away from her, blinking when I feel the tears coming. In my attempt to get away, I bump into Shikamaru, who catches me by the shoulders.

I shake him off, the imprint of his hands burning into me. "I – I'm sorry," I say with a sniff. "Um…I need to…the bathroom? I need to – go."

I break out of the kitchen and flee down the hall. I open the first door I find and flip on the light, pressing my back against the door to keep anyone from coming in. In my rush to escape, I haven't found a bathroom at all, but a bedroom, one with a poorly made bed and books scattered on the floor.

It's Shikamaru's room. There are photos of Shikamaru and his team piled together, like they're being sorted. On the nightstand, there's a single framed photo. As I move closer I make out the image: a child version of me petting a deer while a child version of Shikamaru looks on, grinning.

I flip the frame face down and, unable to hold it in any longer, I sob, gasping for breath as I try to suppress it. I've never cried so desperately before, never had so much inside of me that I couldn't contain it. How could I contain all of this love? After being starved for nearly three years, after letting my cup run empty time after time, how am I supposed to endure when my cup overflows?

Gaara had absolved me, pressing his hand into mine, pulling me from the depths. Naruto, Sakura, and Kakashi didn't have to think twice about bringing me home. And then Ino and her father and Ibiki, all of them listening to me and trusting me. None of them doubted a single thing I told them.

Now, this, Yoshino and Shikaku, doting on me like I am their own child, the prodigal daughter returned – I can't even bear the weight of my own sins. How can they brush it off as though I've done nothing?

I've seen it, over and over, forgiveness and acceptance and love, but I can't bear it. I'm being presented with a greater grace than I can bear – a grace of forgiveness, but I can't carry this. I can't give it to myself.

I clean up my face, but the tears won't stop, like my body is revolting from the years I filed my feelings away. Like now that I've damaged the floodgates, they can't be repaired, and my only choice is to sink into the depths, drowning under the rushing waters.

Something brushes my shoulder. I twist, turning away and taking steps backward. Shikamaru, standing under the yellow light of the room, has his hand extended toward me.

A memory: Shikamaru, beneath a dingy yellow light, crying at the news that his friends are okay, promising never to endanger anyone else again, promising to be better than he was yesterday. My heart was full then like it is now, spilling over for him, only to have him come back every time, refilling my vessels.

Shikamaru steps forward, but I hold out a hand to stop him from coming any closer. I clasp my hands over my mouth as another sob threatens to come out, but it only makes me cry harder. I double over, no longer able to contain this.

How can anyone bear it, all this love?

At last, I understand Itachi. I understand the choice he made to give up everything, to sacrifice everything, because he loved so much and believed so much in the idea of something. I understand Sasuke, how he couldn't let that love go either and how it burned him up on the inside. And instead of finding somewhere else to put all that love, instead of finding something as deserving, Sasuke let it go up in smoke.

I had so much love – have so much love. I didn't know where to put it all, thought that the answer was the bond, was Sasuke. But when all my love was gone, instead of drying up, I wanted more. I wanted more and more and more, became so desperate that I stopped believing I was deserving of it because I could never get enough.

And now, here, home – home – I have love everywhere. Everyone keeps giving me love, unsolicited, unconditional, undeserved.

"Ren," Shikamaru says, moving toward me again.

"No, please," I say and retreat farther back into the room. "Please, don't, I – your parents, just now – how…how can they be so kind? How can they let me come into their home like this? Like I haven't…betrayed them? Like I didn't betray the whole village? How can you—"

I let out another sob, gasping through my teeth as I try to contain it all. "Shikamaru," I whisper, and I feel my whole body shake at the sound of his name. I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "Shika," I say again and finally look up, meeting his eyes.

They're the same as I remember them: sharp, discerning, warm and earthy. And in them, there is not an ounce of judgment. Just Shikamaru, looking at me, Ren, the person I am, the one standing before him in this moment. I sniff again, welling with new tears.

"Shikamaru," I say quietly, "how can you even look at me? How can you bear it?"

Shikamaru holds my gaze, unwavering. "I know you," he says. "I know who you are."

I break open and cry harder, a bottomless vessel. He steps forward, and this time I let him. He pulls me into him, tucking my head under his chin, keeping one hand on my head, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I cry into his shirt, soaking it through with my tears, and hold onto him, afraid that I'll wake up from another genjutsu.

But this is real. Shikamaru is lean and firm and warm, heating my whole body without burning me up.

"You did a bad thing, Ren," Shikamaru says, smoothing down my hair, and I grip his shirt. "It doesn't mean you're a bad person. In the end, you came back, like you always do, and now you're here. You're home."

My body shakes with more sobs. It feels a little like drowning – my body is heavy, I can't breathe, water floods my eyes. But my head is staying above the surface. I'm finding my footing, barely, my toes scraping the sandy floor.

I see the safety of the shores ahead, the pieces of me that I had scattered to be with Sasuke. And the person pulling me to shore is the only person who could have saved me: myself, waving with a wide grin, laughing as Shikamaru stands beside me, helping me cast the line to draw me back in as I accept the grace.

Shikamaru holds me until it stops, until I'm only sniffling, wiping my snot with the back of my hand. Calmer now, I push away just enough to see Shikamaru's face. His arms stay around me, keeping me steady.

"Listen," I say, my hands trembling as I furl them into fists, "Shikamaru, I'm – I missed you. I missed you. Every day. I missed everything – I understood the choices I made. I'm not sorry for any of it, but I am sorry – I'm sorry for everything I missed. But I want – Shikamaru."

I'm breathless, and Shikamaru takes my shoulders to stop me. I shake my head, saying, "Look."

I reach into my pocket and pull out a crumpled piece of paper. I flatten it and show it to him – his note from over a year ago, his writing unsteady, like he had scribbled it against the palm of his hand.

"I kept this with me," I say quietly, "this whole time. To remember everything."

Shikamaru stares at the note in my hand for a moment, and then he meets my eyes again. He stares at me for so long that I wonder what he's looking for, whether he recognizes the parts of me that were here, parts of me that I've loosened and unraveled after keeping safe and tucked away for so long.

Shikamaru leans in, resting his forehead against mine. He wraps his hand around the note and squeezes my fingers, fossilizing the note in the pressure of our palms.

"I knew you'd come home, Ren," Shikamaru says.

"I'm home," I repeat and draw him into me. "I'm home."

A/N: I imagine the rest of this playing out like it does in BOUND – the war, the confrontation, the forgiveness. I imagine Sasuke and Ren eventually reconciling like in BOUND and life continuing for them as it continues. In this storyline, Ren would have understood Sasuke even better. She wouldn't have held any of this against him, just like Naruto didn't. Sasuke took up the yoke of Ren's pain and carried it for her. I think she would have seen that if the story had gone this way.

Rewriting this storyline, though, I appreciate Sakura's and Naruto's love so much more. I've always watched Naruto the series thinking, how could they forgive someone like Sasuke? How could they possibly continue to love him after everything he did – after attempting to kill both of them at different times? Writing about them forgiving Ren, I realize that kind of grace in the face of true, absolute apology is real justice. That kind of love and forgiveness is healing on so many levels.

This is just a story, and it's pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It's unrealistic in a whole lotta ways, but I think in this respect, in the ways that love is given and received in the face of forgiveness, it's what I wanna see in the real world.

The world has been so tough lately. It has been so terrible and untrue to the core of humanity and what we were created for: to love and be loved in return. Even so, I have a lot of hope. I have so much hope.