Bonds

Bonds

A dark figure jumped from tree to tree, staying in the shadows and alert for any movement near him. The moon, now just a slight crescent, provided barely enough light to see by, but it was enough. He stopped only to adjust the bandage on his arm, moving at a desperate speed through the forest.

His urgency did not make him careless, and when he sensed a patrol nearing him he stopped immediately. Shadows cloaking him like a blanket, he backed into a secluded corner as the ANBU moved past him unknowingly. The delay had cost him seconds he wasn’t sure he could afford to lose.

Still, he couldn’t help but notice the view as he reached the edge of the forest. He’d forgotten how beautiful Konoha was in autumn. The leaves danced in the moonlight, true colours hidden by the gloom and given a silvery glow. It bathed the village with its strange warmth, and if he had more time, he might have stood there enjoying the view. As it was, however, time wasn’t with him. It never was: such was the life of a missing-nin.

He jumped to the nearest rooftop, sandals making no sound as he whispered across. He was close. He ran unnoticed, the village sleeping as it always did. Quiet. Peaceful. There had been a time when he hated that.

His cloak billowed in a sudden wind, and he almost winced as the clothing brushed against his wound. Almost; however, he had mastered such reactions years ago. A lot of people found this unnerving. Those people rarely survived long.

It was almost over. He found the balcony he was looking for and dropped down noiselessly. Picking the lock, he slipped inside, closing the sliding window behind him.

The room was simple, but comfortable. A white sofa rested against the far wall, along with a chair and a low, wooden table, made up the main living area. The room had a clean, but unlived in, feel. A pile of paperwork covering the table, which told him that the room’s owner was not relaxing. Which meant she was probably fast asleep now. He headed to the single bedroom.

This room was much like the last. White curtains fluttered from the breeze coming through the open window. He ignored the window, with the curtains closed nobody could see in and she was above suspicion, in favour of the figure on the bed.

She was buried in the comforter that was wrapped around her body. Her breathing was even and relaxed, likely the first time she’d relaxed all day, and her pink hair spilled out around her. She had started growing it out again shortly after he’d met her. After Sasuke had almost killed her. Yet another example of the boy’s foolishness. She was far too valuable an ally to attack needlessly.

A sudden wave of agony reminded him why he was here, and that he was running out of time. Walking over to the bed, he gently shook the medic-nin awake. She woke with a start, body tensed to strike down the intruder. Her hand was poised to attack, three needles tucked securely around her fingers, when she realised who he was. She scowled, and the bags under her eyes indicated she was being overworked again.

“How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?” She didn’t wait for a reply. She knew from experience that he wouldn’t. “What’s wrong this time?”

He lifted his arm so she could see it. She took one look at it and sighed. The bandage was completely soaked in blood, almost dripping with the crimson liquid. “I suppose you overused your eyes, too.” Walking to her vanity the 20-year-old medic-nin absently brushed her hair back as she rooted around for the first aid kit she kept for his visits.

She gestured for him to sit and opened the kit. He complied, carefully manoeuvring the arm in front of him. She untied the impromptu bandage, frowning as she got a good look at the wound. It ran from his elbow to his collarbone, a jagged gash that cut straight to the bone. She would have been surprised he’d made it all this way to her house without collapsing from the pain and blood loss, but she’d stopped being surprised at his endurance years ago.

“Hunter-nins?” She inquired, not really expecting an answer. So when he shook his head, she was a bit startled. Nevertheless, she continued cleaning his wound without comment. He’d hate it if she made a fuss. Soon she was completely absorbed in her work, trying hard to aggravate the wound.

The whole time he watched her with that piercing intensity most people found unnerving. She didn’t seem to notice. It amazed him how comfortable she seemed with their unusual routine.

He tensed, as he always did, when he felt her chakra entering his system. He forced himself to relax. She could kill him easily now, if she wanted, and be hailed as a hero. Yet she never did, and he didn’t know why. Anybody else would have jumped at the chance to kill him. He was every shinobi and civilian’s worst fear. When parents told their children not to go out at night, they used his name as a reason. Yet, to her, he was just another patient.

“Turn it off,” Her voice cut through his musing. Knowing exactly what she meant, he reluctantly allowed his eyes to regain their natural ebony hue. “Thank you.”

Having finished his arm without his noticing, in half the time it took even the most skilled of ordinary medic-nins, she was now repairing the nerve damage in his eyes that always resulted when he used his blood limit. This took considerably more time. Performing the chakra surgery on his unusual condition was supposed to be impossible. Yet, she had managed to pull it off time and time again.

It was why he had sought her out. He had dismissed the rumours of her skill as exaggerated at first. But when he had been mortally injured in battle with the Raikage and left for dead, Kisame kept busy with the entire ANBU corps a few miles away and unaware of his condition, it had been her that had healed him. Perhaps it was a medic’s instincts, perhaps it was a final act of defiance toward the one who had betrayed her so completely, but she healed him. Then she left without a word.

When she had healed him, he had felt her power. And for the first time in years, he’d allowed himself to hope. It was foolish, he knew, and yet he had gone anyway. That she hadn’t killed him on sight was shocking. That she had agreed to attempt the surgery was miraculous. Yet she had, and it had succeeded. And, though he would never admit it, he was in her dept. A bond (a strange, tenuous, complicated bond, but a bond) had been established and he found himself returning to her house. They never spoke of it, never gave any outward sign that these meeting were anything but ordinary, that things hadn’t always been like this.

“Can you stay for the night?” The question was unexpected, but he considered it. Her face was turned away from him as she put away her supplies, but he could guess the look in her eyes. She was lonely. Her team had split up: Naruto was the Hokage and always busy. Sasuke was long dead, and the others just didn’t have time. She spent most of her time at the hospital, but she found little companionship among the gravely injured and nurses who were in awe of her. Prodigies were rarely understood. He’d been lucky. He’d found others like him. She hadn’t been so fortunate.

She turned back to him and he realised he hadn’t answered her. “Never mind. It was a silly request.” She picked up her green housecoat and wrapped it around herself. “Will you stay for tea, at least?”

He followed her to the kitchen and sat down as she went about making a pot of tea. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she went to the cupboard. Frowning, she looked up. Naruto had put the tea on the top shelf again. She swore he did it on purpose, flaunting the growth spurt he’d gotten that now put him at 6’3”.

She started to climb onto the counter to get the packets, wondering why she hadn’t gotten that part of the cupboard removed. Sensing pending disaster, he got up and put a hand on her arm to stop her from climbing. Then he got the tea from the cupboard and handed it to her. It wouldn’t do for his medic to get hurt under his watch.

Yes. That was the reason. He certainly wasn’t getting attached to her.

She blushed faintly at his touch, mumbling a thank you. By the time she had dropped the bags in the water and poured the tea he was sitting down again. They drank in silence, but it was a comfortable silence.

“I suppose you’ll be going now.” She commented casually as she put away the cups, and he was reminded of her earlier plea.

“No, I’ll stay.” It was the first thing he’d said all night, and she glanced at him in surprise.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded. He owed her more than she realized, and now she needed him. He was not so cold as to refuse her.

“Thank you.” Her smile was relieved. “Where do you want to sleep? Bed or couch?”

“I don’t care. Where are you sleeping?”

“You’re my guest.” She scowled.

He smiled faintly, which annoyed her even more.

“What’s so funny?”

He didn’t answer, and she gave up. He was being difficult again. “Well, I’m sleeping on the bed. You can sleep beside me if you want.”

He shrugged, removed his cloak and let down his hair while she put the housecoat away.

He waited until she was asleep, her body unconsciously snuggling up to his. He tensed at first, but made himself relax. She was no threat to him.

It was peaceful, and after a while he found he liked it. The constant need to be alert and on guard had taken its toll, and for the first time he realised how tired he was. Perhaps it was time to retire. He’d never given it thought before, but as he reflected back on the past few years, he realised just why he kept coming back to this place. It wasn’t just for the healing, the Akatsuki had some of the best medics around and his eyes were already healed. It was the tranquility. It was the fact that, however brief, when he was here he could forget about the danger that was everywhere.

At first she had accepted him with reluctance, her eyes watched him with suspicion. Then she seemed to become used to his visits and even ventured a smile occasionally. More recently he had noticed how her eyes lit up when she saw him, as if she was happy to see him. The last person who had looked at him like that had been his brother all those years ago. His brother was no longer there, but he found that he didn’t want to let her go as easily as he let his brother slip away.

End