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Four lessons in and Kakashi had finally decided to forego stealth on his way to meet Shikako. It had become—somewhat tiring, to always stealth onto the Nara’s grounds. An excellent way to avoid conversation… and people in general—sure, but. Well. It felt kinda rude to always avoid them, especially so when he was learning their closely guarded clan techniques.
Regardless, he’d warred with his conscience for a bit before giving in on the matter. I can always go back to stealthing… if this goes badly, he consoled himself.
As he ambled through the clan grounds, he was greeted by the occasional nod or wave. They didn’t seek to engage him in conversation, and the reception seemed to be… cautiously optimistic. That was… far better than the hissed aspersions of “Eye-thief!” and “Friend-killer!” that had marked his interactions with many of the now dead Uchiha.
(He’d not dared step foot in their clan compound without his ANBU mask after accepting Obito’s eye. The Uchiha had let him keep it. Grudgingly. After interrogation. After a Yamanaka mindwalk. And after the valiant efforts of Minato-sensei. They weren’t happy about it, but the eye was freely given, and it wouldn’t do to half-blind a prodigy—a jounin—of his skill and show disregard of a teammate’s dying wish. That would have been exceptionally bad for their public relations… (And even then, they couldn’t afford that.))
Catching sight of a couple whispered conversations, he channeled chakra to his ears. They were a ninja clan—the “smart” one even—and it would be logical that they’d guard their tongues regarding this “adoption” until he’d done something more tangible than walking through their grounds (and having Shikako’s shadow) to trigger their unveiled disdain. But still, better to keep on top of the gossip.
Some of the conversations he picked up weren’t about him…
—
“Did you remember to ask Otou-san to collect little Mika-chan on his way home? You know he…”
—
“Why she added snap-dragons to her garden, I’ve no idea. Her Obaa-chan would be appalled—the roses that she replaced had been there…”
—
“No, Emica! If you want that hemmed, I’m not going to be the one to…”
—
… and he quickly tuned them out. But some were about him.
—
“Okaa-san, why’s he here?”
“It’s fine, Riku-kun. He’s Shikako-san’s Kazue. If he’s not collecting her for a mission, he’s probably here for a lesson.”
“Humph.”
—
“Oh—he’s finally visiting! It’s about time. I wonder if Shikako’s expecting him.”
“She probably is—he’s her Kage no Nakama, after all.”
—
Kakashi found himself abruptly cutting the extra chakra from his ears when the young Riku-kun charged up to him. He couldn't be any older than six—barely academy age, if that—and he had the traditional Nara pineapple hairstyle. The boy scowled, like a determined puppy, and set his hands upon his hips. (Kakashi almost expected the boy to start wagging a finger at him, so determined was his mein.) He cocked his head at the kid.
The boy spoke seriously, “You’re Shikako-senpai's Kazue—so youse got to act like it.” He then gave a firm nod before sprinting off before Kakashi could gather the wherewithal to respond.
Kakashi… didn’t actually know what being “Shikako’s Kazue” meant for him, but he knew who he could ask about the matter. He gave himself a nod and quickened his pace through the estate, brushing off the amused or agreeing glances by those Nara who had witnessed the scene.
Kazue, though, that was a decidedly female name… and, well. He wasn’t offended—he was perfectly aware how dangerous the females of his species could be—but knowing the implications of the term, as it applied to their situation, seemed a pragmatic course of action. Riku-kun was young enough that he was probably mirroring a sentiment held by the clan.
He wouldn’t put it past the Nara to use a traditional name to remind him of his obligations to Shikako—the word could mean “harmony, peace,” “one branch,” or “favor, benefit,” depending on its spelling, after all. And each of those could imply a great many things.
(He privately thought that the terms “Kage no Nakama” and “tsunagari”, as Shikaku had been referring to him as, were more intimidating; outright stating a connection to someone—that was risky and terrifying. He’d almost prefer to be referred to by an ambiguous girl’s name.)
The puzzle gnawed at him though, so once he was settled with Shikako in their shadow-training clearing, privacy seals activated, he asked, “Mah, Shikako?” She tilted her head to show she was listening, so he continued, “Why are your clanmates calling me your Kazue?”
Shikako visibly considered for a moment, and instead of answering directly she stated, “Ah—I’ve not told you that story yet, have I? It’s an old one, but it should help with context.” She gave him a quick grin before settling into her seat more firmly. Her voice took on the cadence of a story passed down for generations when she spoke:
“In olden times, when Clans had not yet begun to form, when the spirits of nature, of elements, were more real—more present among the creatures which lived among them—the leopards spoke to the Mountains. The birds spoke to the Wind. The fish spoke to the Waters. And the deer—they spoke to the Forest. It sheltered them, comforted them, and provided them food throughout the seasons.
“Nature would have been sufficient for their survival, but to be also under the protection of the Forest Spirit, the deer thrived. They called the Spirit of the Forest ‘Hiraku,’ and he looked upon them fondly. The fawns would canter under his boughs and the does would rest among his streams. The bucks would scout his trails, and at the end of each day he would hear of their adventures.
“Eventually, the herd grew large enough that the Kazue, the Kami of Deer, came to dwell among them. In those peaceful days, Hiraku and Kazue communed often, for they were of agreeable temperaments and wanted the best for the herd which had grown to depend upon them. Hiraku would provide shelter and Kazue would provide wisdom.
“When the herd was otherwise occupied, Kazue would retreat often into the Forest’s deepest clearings, enticed by his company and willing to entertain him in turn. Theirs was a partnership of great respect.
“But, as with all things, peace would not last. Humans spread out upon the lands, first in the fields, and then in the mountains and forests. The Forest had become too abundant and so proved a temptation too great to settle. Little by little loggers widened Nature’s trails, expanded the Forest’s clearings, and built villages beside its streams.
“The herd, as welcomed as they had been by Hiraku, had never had cause to fight for their territory before, so under Kazue’s guidance, they retreated again… and again… and again… deeper into the Forest.
“But repeatedly, villages arose within the wake of their trails, and humans pushed forward still.
“Eventually they came to reside in the most hidden glen, the most private retreat of Hiraku and Kazue… and yet barely a season passed before they could again hear the approach of man.
“The herd and their Kami had remained in the Forest because they loved him and he was rooted to this land. But it was no longer safe for them to remain so, and the danger they were in weighed heavily upon Hiraku’s heart. He could do naught but act.
“So, from the tallest tree, in his most shadowed glen, he called forth the smallest portion of the Forest’s shadow, the part formed by dew drops, fawns’ stories, and fruit trees—the portion formed of new life and hope—the portion which loved the deer and the Kami who guided them.
“With his heart-shadow in hand he called forth Kazue, and upon her shadow he affixed his own. ‘The whole of me cannot always be with you,’ he gestured to the trees surrounding them, ‘but with this, I will always be with you all. Be swift of feet, and know that I now go wherever you are.’
“The following morning, the village’s scouts came upon an empty clearing. It was dotted with hoof prints that ended abruptly and an ancient tree—one which produced no shadow in the hour just after dawn. It’s said that no deer lived in that forest for generations after that.”
The silence settled gently between Shikako and Kakashi as the story drew to a close.
Eventually though, Shikako hummed, “That’s the story we tell the kids anyways. There may be some truth to it.” She shrugged, as though admitting that a Forest Spirit and Kami bonding story could be real… was no big thing, before she continued.
“Some of the clan historians throughout the years have theorized that shadow-bonding was actually a fait accompli situation; either a mother in the clan wanted to adopt a foundling and was denied, or a Nara was denied an out clan spouse… and they then delved into the shadow arts to force an answer in their favor.”
All the implications there: Kami, Spirits, pre-summons deer, and Nara pragmatism. The world is strange enough that a heart-protecting, Kami-Spirit entanglement, is nearly as possible as a Nara reacting… decisively.
Perhaps the first Nara to shadow-bond took their inspiration from that story? He eyed Shikako speculatively, considering her accomplishments. It was probably spite that created that technique.
Consciously drawing away from that thought, he considered the story in the context of his original question. That was a clan-folktale—not one commonly shared with outsiders. They were Nara, so the meanings of Kazue might still be applicable… but they were also ninja; it would make sense that “Hiraku” and “Kazue” became discrete terms to refer to the two involved in a shadow-bond.
He was relatively sure of this answer, and uninclined to force Shikako to spell out any of the other implications that calling him “Kazue” might have among her clan, so he asked only for the sake of confirmation, “Hiraku and Kazue—they’re terms of discretion then, regarding shadow-bonding?”
“Yup.” She nodded a confirmation. “I am Hiraku to your Kazue.” She’d flashed him a look, part protective, a touch fond, and something that felt like a dare that he not pull away. He looked away instead, suddenly very willing to box up all thoughts regarding the tale she’d just told.
She took mercy on him then, blatantly moving on from the explicit subject of their connection. “You’ve been doing well with meditation and the shadow-twitch, but I’ve been meaning to give you this… um three lessons ago.” Her voice had trailed off a bit at the end, but she passed him a hand written book nonetheless. “It’s the Primer of Shadows.” She explained, “You’ll need to memorize it all. And there’s a ceremonial burning of it once you’ve learned everything within it and are capable of transcribing it from memory yourself.” She shrugged before continuing, “There’s absolutely no rush though; it’s more important to be comfortable with the shadow arts than to brute force the memorization…”
With his initial question answered, the lesson moved forward, and Kakashi continued to learn.