Chapter 3: The Fugitive

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

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Only three hours ago, Nara Shikamaru had been thinking ahead to his seventeenth birthday.

Although it was not for a while, he was already making plans. He was saving up to travel to China, where there would be a big shogi tournament. Maybe visit some other lands as well.

He and his squad had just returned from a mission, and he had been telling his friends about those plans as they enjoyed a welcome-home feast at his best friend Chouji's house. Shikamaru had been trying to entice Chouji to join him in his travels by describing the deliciousness of Chinese and Korean barbecue.

"Oh, let's face it, Shikamaru," his teammate Ino cut in merrily, "you're not going anywhere. You're far too lazy! Packing? Traveling? Get real!"

"Yeah," Naruto chimed in, "he'll get out the front gates of Suna, see a nice cloud, and lay down on a hill for the rest of the day."

"The gates of Suna?" Kiba guffawed. "He'll get out his own front door, decide that's enough trouble for one day, and head back to bed."

"You don't know Shikamaru," Chouji defended him indignantly. "If he says he'll do something, he'll do it."

Shikamaru lounged back in his chair. "Yeah, I know I'm lazy, and yeah, packing and being on the road are kind of a pain in the butt…"

"So why go to China?" Naruto said. "You can play shogi right here in your own backyard!"

"Not with the world's best players," Shikamaru said. "And, you know, reading about all these places in books is good, but..." Blank looks from his friends. None of them were especially big on reading. He shrugged. "I'd rather see it for myself…China…Korea…maybe the North Country…"

"The North Country…are you crazy?" Kiba practically yelled. "They're our enemies!"

"Gaara's dad was killed fighting them!" Naruto added.

"That war is over," Shikamaru said. "They're not—" But he was drowned out by a chorus of excited warnings.

"They're like animals up there!"

"It's full of Red-Eyes and White-Eyes!"

"The Akatsuki gang roams around everywhere!"

"They practice witchcraft!"

"They sentence their own family members to death!"

"Not to mention, it's freezing cold up there. The streets are probably made of ice!"

Even Chouji had an objection: "You don't even know what the food is like."

Shikamaru had sat back, only half-listening. Arguing was a drag, and he was tired from the mission and wanting a bath and sleep. Asuma-sensei always gave his team the day off from training after a mission, and Shikamaru was looking forward to a peaceful, relaxing day tomorrow.

The party had broken up shortly after the final course was served, and Shikamaru headed back to the Nara compound with Morino Ibiki, one of his father's lieutenants who had come along on the mission. They stabled their horses and put them to bed for the night, then went to do one final check of the grounds. All was quiet and tranquil, the moon casting light on the courtyard and the hills beyond. It was getting chilly, the day's heat ebbing away, and Shikamaru was glad of his wool cloak.

"Outbuildings too?" he asked Ibiki, more than half hoping Ibiki would say not to bother. But that had never been Ibiki's way. They headed down the hill to the outbuildings: the locked grain shed and the old stables that were only used when the main stable was full. There was nothing amiss in the grain shed, not even the mice that liked to gnaw the bags of grain. Shikamaru was already dreaming of a hot bath as they approached the old stables for a cursory check. He walked part way down the rows of stalls, swinging his lantern lazily. He had half-turned to go back when Ibiki called from the doorway.

"Anything?"

Shikamaru raised the lantern. He was about to say there was nothing; he was turning to head back when he heard it: a tiny sound from the back stalls. Alert now, he scanned the stable, checking, and noticed immediately that a bale of straw had been dragged and ripped open. He could see a small trail of scatterered straw leading to the last stall. So some animal had gotten in and made a nest, it appeared.

Troublesome, he grumbled to himself as he slowly approached the stall. He hoped fervently it was just a rat, and not a desert badger or a hawk. He really wasn't in the mood. Standing well back, he lifted the light and reached to push the stall door open. What he found there made his mouth drop open in shock.

"Holy crap!"

A girl sat against the far wall, half hidden by piles of straw. She was naked, knees drawn up to her chest, long dark hair hanging like a curtain around her. Bruises and scrapes covered her bare arms and legs. Her face was bruised and dirty as well, but it was her eyes that really shocked Shikamaru. They were almost completely white, even the pupils. Shikamaru felt a visceral reaction, as if an electric current had gone through his body, at the sight.

Ibiki had moved swiftly, stepping up behind him. "Hey! You!"

"Ibiki…cool it…she's blind."

Ibiki gave a derisive snort. "You should pay attention in school instead of sleeping. It's a Hyuuga."

"What the heck is a Hyuuga?" Shikamaru demanded. It must be some sort of eye defect, he assumed, but he could not believe anyone would beat a blind girl so brutally. She was staring in his direction now, the pale eyes fierce.

Eyes the color of moonlight, he thought. For a moment, everything else left his mind; he was transfixed by that wild and beautiful face.

Then she spoke, in a startlingly deep and low voice.

"The Hyuuga are one of the oldest and noblest clans in the nation! I demand to be let go and returned to my clan!"

Shikamaru's mouth fell open and he stepped back in alarm, the spell broken. And now that the fugitive was sitting up more, he could see what he had not before: the broad shoulders and muscles, the flat chest and strong jaw.

"Whoa...you...you're a guy?"

"Yeah, it's a male," Ibiki said

A Hyuuga...of course, a White-Eyes! Every South Country child had heard tales of the scary clans of the North – the Red-Eyes, who had the power to bewitch their opponents with illusion, and the White-Eyes, who could look into a person's mind and know what they were thinking. Shikamaru was never sure if these stories were true, or simply myths. He was curious now.

"Can you tell what I'm thinking?" he asked the White-Eyes.

"Who are you, and why should I care what you are thinking?"

"Fair enough. I'm Nara Shikamaru, and this is Morino Ibiki. What's your name?"

"What village is this?"

"This is Suna, the Hidden Village of the Sand." Shikamaru took a couple of steps closer. Instantly the fugitive was on his feet, fists clenched.

"Do not touch me!"

"Take it easy," Shikamaru began, but he was interrupted by Ibiki.

"How did you come into our village? How many of you are there?"

"There is only me, and I did not choose to come into your village! I was…kidnapped from my homeland."

"By who?" Ibiki asked, unmoved.

The fugitive practically spit the words. "A monster named Orochimaru."

Shikamaru exchanged a glance with Ibiki. Orochimaru was a well-known slave trader. Shikamaru felt some sympathy for the white-eyed one.

"Look," he said, "we can't just let you go, but we won't hurt you. You'll stay in our custody tonight...come back to the house, get cleaned up, and we'll talk to my father and maybe the Kazekage in the morning. Are you hungry?"

"No!" the fugitive said sharply.

"Tough," Ibiki grunted. "Get a move on."

The wild white eyes flashed from Ibiki to Shikamaru and back again. Shikamaru hoped the Hyuuga wasn't thinking of trying anything. He was tired and that would be a major drag.

"If either of you touch me I'll kill you." The fugitive's voice was hard and furious, but the ragged undertone to it, and the way he gripped the dirty bit of blanket around him, made Shikamaru's stomach turn over in sickening realization of what had been done to him.

He could see that the Hyuuga was shivering, from the cold, fear, exhaustion, or some combination of all three. Without a second thought, he pulled the long wool cloak from his shoulders and tossed it over to the fugitive. The Hyuuga seized it and wrapped it tightly around himself.

"No one will touch you," Shikamaru assured him. "Perhaps a doctor should look at your wounds, though."

"No," the Hyuuga snapped.

"Suit yourself. Come with us." Shikamaru turned and led the way. After a moment, the Hyuuga slowly followed, with Ibiki bringing up the rear.

As they traveled along the path, Shikamaru watched the fugitive from the corner of his eye. Although it was true that he had not paid much attention in school, he was sharply observant on missions. He noticed now that the Hyuuga was moving somewhat stiffly, and guessed he must be in some pain. In Shikamaru's experience, an injured captive – whether animal or human – was always more dangerous, especially if they felt cornered. Therefore he did his best to seem non-threatening. He kept his distance, he spoke calmly and did not raise his voice, and he deliberately moved at a leisurely stroll so that the Hyuuga would have no trouble keeping up.

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The pain in his ribs making it harder to breathe, and the lack of food and sleep, were slowing Neji down somewhat. Nevertheless he had no trouble keeping up with Nara Shikamaru, who ambled along the path at a snail's pace. Slow to walk, slow to speak – Neji had begun to suspect he might be slow altogether. How could he have never heard of the Hyuugas? And thinking Neji was a girl! Then that question – can you tell what I'm thinking? Like a child playing a game.

Under Neji's feet the ground was cold, but the cloak around his shoulders was comfortingly thick and warm. It was made of a heavy soft wool with silk lining, still warm from the other's body. It bore a faint trace of its owner's scent as well. Neji was surprised to find that it was not at all unpleasant. He had always heard that South Country people were dirty and disgusting.

He wondered about these two men, the slow younger one and the horrifically scarred older one. Who were they? Soldiers? Farmers? Were they related? And if not, which one was the superior? This cloak was obviously well-made and expensive. So they were not peasants, that much he knew.

A sharp spike of fear went through him as the lights of the house came into view. What was waiting for him in there? Would it be more of what he had endured at the hands of Orochimaru? For a wild moment he had a strong impulse to run; even in his battered condition he was pretty sure he could outrun the slow one. But the big one might be trouble. Neji sensed that he could be cruel, and he was definitely prejudiced against North Country people. The younger one – Nara – seemed more curious than hostile.

The house, like the stables, was a round squat building made of some smooth sandy stone rather than the bricks and wood of North Country homes. Behind it he could see another, larger building that seemed to be connected to the house.

Nara Shikamaru removed his dusty sandals and made a little bow. "Welcome to my home."

Neji nodded, blinking in the light. He knew he was not being very polite, but he was a prisoner, not an honored guest, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

Up close and in better light, Nara Shikamaru did not really resemble Kidoumaru. He was shorter, his skin lighter, and his features finer. He was also younger than Neji had thought at first – probably close to Neji's own age.

"I'll take this one to a holding cell," Ibiki said, jerking a thumb in Neji's direction.

Nara Shikamaru frowned. "Let's let him get cleaned up first, and get him some clothes and food." Glancing over at Neji, he said, "You look about my size. Wait here a minute."

Ibiki fixed Neji with a dour look while they waited. Clearly he was not pleased with this. But he had been overruled by Nara Shikamaru. So it was Nara-san who was superior, or at least an equal, Neji thought with some surprise.

Nara-san returned carrying some clothes and a towel. "Ibiki, can you show him where to bathe, and get him something to eat, please? I need a bath myself."

Neji followed Ibiki in silence. He was glad of the bath and the clothes. But he did not intend to eat or drink anything. He would not be tricked like that again.

Ibiki stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. Opening it, he called down,"We got a prisoner to feed. Get some of that old rice we were going to throw away, wouldja." Neji took definite note of the word prisoner. Was that their cue to slip something into the food?

A short way back from what was presumably the kitchen, they came to the bathing room. The large soaking tub was covered, but Neji didn't care. He wasn't interested in a long relaxing bath; he just wanted to wash off some of this blood and dirt and make himself decent again. He started to close the door, but was prevented by Ibiki, looming in the doorway.

Neji glared at him. "Do you mind?"

"I've already seen everything there is to see, princess, so make it quick and don't try anything."

"If you touch me," Neji warned, "you are dead."

Ibiki's lip curled. "I'm not a pervert like Orochimaru. I just know from experience what sneaky bastards you White-Eyes can be."

Involuntarily, Neji's eyes went to the terrible scars on Ibiki's head. Sixteen years had passed since the war between North and South; Neji had been only a baby then, but Ibiki looked old enough to have been there.

Trying to ignore Ibiki, Neji washed up. He clenched his teeth as the strong soap and warm water stung his wounds. The cold had mercifully numbed the pain, but now it was coming back double strength.

Unfolding the clothes, he was angry and embarrassed to find that they had given him only a thin T-shirt and a pair of sleeping pants. Were they trying to humiliate him by dressing him in pajamas while they wore uniforms? Or did they imagine it would make it harder for him to run away? They were underestimating him badly if that was the case.

"Done?" Ibiki grunted. "Come on."

The cloak that Nara-san had tossed to him lay on the bench where Neji had placed it before bathing. Neji picked it up and wrapped it around himself before following Ibiki. He was not about to walk around in public wearing only pajamas.

Ibiki led him into a room with dark lacquer cabinets along the walls, curved to the shape of the round house, and a dark wood table in the center. The table was higher than Neji was used to, with chairs to sit on instead of cushions for kneeling. Ibiki gestured at a solitary bowl on the table. The rice inside was cold, hard, and thoroughly unappetizing. Nevertheless the sight of it made Neji's stomach growl and his mouth water. He had to tear his eyes away from the bowl.

"I told you I am not hungry."

"Come along, then," Ibiki said impatiently. Noticing that Neji was wearing Nara-san's cloak, he added, "Leave that. It doesn't belong to you."

Neji knew he should preserve his pride by tossing the cloak on the floor at Ibiki's feet, but he could not seem to make himself do that. The cloak was the closest thing he had come to comfort in these last hellish couple of weeks.

"Didn't you hear me?" Ibiki barked. "Take it off!"

Neji braced himself, defiant. Now it was a point of pride not to remove the cloak.

"Ibiki…it's okay." The lazy voice of Nara Shikamaru sounded. "It's a cold night." Neji stared at him in astonishment as he walked into the room. Nara-san was barefoot, and like Neji he was wearing only a t-shirt and sleeping pants. His hair was damp and loose around his shoulders. Neji could not fathom what was going on. Ibiki was treating him like an enemy prisoner to be interrogated. That he could understand. But did South Country people make a habit of interrogating prisoners in their pajamas? Or was this a further insult? Was Nara-san mocking him, insinuating that Neji was not to be taken seriously?

"You only make a fool of yourself, not me, dressing like that," he said contemptuously. Nara-san glanced down at his clothes, looking utterly baffled.

Ibiki moved from his post against the wall. "All right, you, let's go," he said to Neji.

Nara-san raised an eyebrow. "Did you give him something to eat?"

"He won't eat," Ibiki said succinctly.

"I'm not surprised," Nara-san said, eying the bowl of cold rice with distaste. "I'm sure we can get something better than this."

"Don't bother," Neji said sharply. "I don't want anything."

"Really, I insist."

Instantly Neji was on high alert. "Why?"

Nara-san was unruffled. "I wouldn't be a very good host if I didn't. And I don't know about your country, but here, it's considered bad manners to refuse hospitality when it's offered."

"Bad manners?" Neji had reached his breaking point. "I suppose it is considered good manners to drug your guests and sell them into slavery!"

Realization dawned on Nara-san's face, and he regarded Neji with an expression that was both pained and thoughtful. "Ahh, I see," he said. "Well, I'm sorry about that. Just a minute..." He picked up the cold rice and left the room.

Neji was left alone with Ibiki, who looked at him as if he were a piece of rotten fish. Neji returned the favor, crossing his arms and giving him a disdainful glare.

"So, they kidnapped and drugged you, eh?" Ibiki said. "Pretty pathetic, if you want to know. Are you really a full-blooded Hyuuga, or from some mongrel line?"

Mongrel line? Neji had to forcibly stop himself from lunging at Ibiki's throat. But the way Ibiki tensed his muscles told Neji that was exactly what he was expecting him to do, and the calculating glint in Ibiki's eyes told him the South Country man was goading him.

"My father is the head of the Hyuuga clan," Neji lied. Well, it should have been true, it would have been true, but for a trick of birth. "If you try to harm me, he will burn this village to the ground!" He chose that threat on purpose; he was pretty sure some of the marks on Ibiki's face were burn scars.

Ibiki looked murderous. He started to growl a reply, but was interrupted by Nara Shikamaru strolling back in.

"We're not going to harm you," Nara-san said in his sleepy drawl. He glanced from Neji to Ibiki. "Ibiki, why don't you go see if they have a room ready?"

Reluctantly, with a piercing look at Neji, Ibiki left the room. Nara-san took a seat at the table. "Please…sit," he said, indicating the seat opposite with a wave of his hand.

Neji's first instinct was to refuse, but he was exhausted. It couldn't hurt to just sit down. Also, he reasoned, he would need to conserve his energy to fight them if they tried anything. Sitting down sent a stab of pain through his ribs and wounded leg, and he could not suppress a wince.

"Are you sure you don't want a doctor?" Nara-san asked. "How badly are you injured?

"That is none of your concern."

Nara-san eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. "What's your name, by the way?"

"That is none of your concern either."

Nara-san rubbed his cheek, looking like he might fall asleep at any moment. He yawned and rested both elbows on the table, which was rather sloppy in Neji's opinion.

The unmistakable aroma of food made them both turn their heads. An elderly woman came in carrying a large tray. From it, she placed several bowls of food and a pot of tea on the table, then set a place in front of both Nara-san and Neji.

Nara-san helped himself to a little of everything. He lifted his chopsticks and bowed his head briefly. "Itadakimasu."

Steam rose from the bowls of food; rice, vegetables, and some sort of stew. It looked and smelled very good. It was going to take a great deal of willpower on Neji's part not to eat it.

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The food looked and smelled very good. Nevertheless, it was taking a great deal of willpower on Shikamaru's part to eat it. For one thing, he had just had a huge meal at Chouji's and he was still stuffed. And then every bite he took was being intensely scrutinized by someone who was obviously very hungry, but pretending not to be. He knew he could not just pick at the food; he would have to eat enough to prove there was nothing wrong with it.

When he had finished most of the plate, he laid the chopsticks down and pushed the bowls of food toward the Hyuuga. "Please, help yourself. As you can see, it's fine."

The fugitive looked at him distrustfully. "Why do you care if I eat or not?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "You look so hungry, I'm afraid you might chew off my arm or something."

The pale eyes flashed. "Are you trying to make a joke?"

"Look, I don't care. After tomorrow I'll probably never see you again. But if you're planning to travel all the way back to the North Country, starving yourself isn't the smartest thing to do."

After a long minute and several dark looks, the Hyuuga relented and took some of the food. He lifted the chopsticks and sat still for a moment, seemingly engaged in some internal struggle. Finally he bowed his head and said quietly, "Itadakimasu." He sat up very straight, taking a couple of small bites of rice and chewing them carefully. Shikamaru was impressed with his good manners; the Hyuuga was not wolfing the food down, even though he had probably not eaten in some time. Quite a change from his friends Chouji, Kiba and Naruto who attacked a plate of food like wild hogs, even if they had eaten just a couple of hours before.

The fugitive took a larger bite of stew, then choked, opening his eyes wide and turning red. He grabbed for his tea and took a long drink, glaring accusingly at Shikamaru.

"What is in that?"

Shikamaru bit his lip to keep from laughing. "I guess you're not used to spicy food, huh? Oh, drinking tea will just make it worse. Eat some plain rice instead. Or try the vegetables…oh no, wait, I guess they're kind of spicy too…"

"Why do you cook like this?" the Hyuuga demanded, as if using a few chili peppers in the curry were some sort of heinous crime.

"Aah…well, it's what we like to eat. What kind of things do you eat in your country?"

"Not this," the fugitive snapped. But despite acting like the food was not fit for dogs, Shikamaru noted, he was still eating it. Eating it slowly, with plenty of rice mixed in, but eating it nonetheless. Shikamaru thought it best not to mention that fact.

He wanted to ask more about what the North Country was like, and the powers of the Hyuugas. He had so many questions! But he knew this was not the time. Perhaps in the morning, after he had eaten and slept well, the fugitive would be willing to talk with him.

He sipped his tea, then, seeing the fugitive watching him, took a large gulp to show him it was not poisoned.

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Neji took a large gulp of tea, then, seeing Nara Shikamaru watching him, took a daintier sip. He was very thirsty and the exceedingly spicy food had not helped, but he was determined to show these barbarians what good breeding looked like.

Nara-san was smirking a little, clearly amused by Neji's adventures with the overly spiced food. To throw him off balance a bit, Neji asked challengingly, "Who is the superior – you or Morino-san?"

Nara-san raised an eyebrow. "On missions, he is. But this is my family's house. He lives next door, with the rest of the Force men." He leaned forward, reaching across the table, and Neji tensed, ready to fight. Now that he had eaten, he felt stronger; he was certain he could disable this loser. But Nara-san was only refilling his cup with tea.

"Relax," Nara-san said, "you don't have anything to fear from me."

"I am not afraid of you!"

"Our clan is not friendly with Orochimaru. I don't believe in keeping slaves or Pets."

Neji wasn't sure what that meant. He could see an orange cat sleeping right over there.

"And anyway," Nara-san said with a little smirk, "I like girls."

How nice for you, Neji thought bitterly. He was really beginning to loathe this smug, slow, sloppy kid.

"So, will you tell me your name?"

Neji would not. The memory of Orochimaru and Kidoumaru saying his name still sent a flame of shame and revulsion through him. He had no desire to hear it on the tongues of these other South Country ruffians.

He knew, realistically, that it did not much matter. They already knew his clan name and, by extension, his fighting abilities and where he was from. But, however small a victory it might be, he intended to hold fast to it.

Everything else had been taken from him. His name was all he had.

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A.N.: Thanks for all the great reviews, guys! They really do encourage me to write more! So please keep them coming – whatever you like, don't like, or if you have a problem or question about something – it's all good :D