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There had been nothing but silence for hours. The moon was high in the sky, surrounded by stars, and the village lay largely in darkness, most people asleep for the night. The hustle and bustle of the streets had ceased, the sounds of life had stopped and been replaced with gentle silence, and the occasional hoot of an owl.
“I’m calling it a night,” Shikamaru said. “It’s late. I’m going home.”
“Okay,” Naruto said, not looking up from his desk.
Shikamaru didn’t move. He stayed where he was, standing just in front of the Hokage, hands in his pockets. “Naruto.”
It wasn’t a question, but Naruto looked up.
“Go home.”
“I’ve got a lot to finish up here, still. You can go, I won’t be long.”
Shikamaru accepted that. He left the office, making the walk home in the cool dark night.
Ordinarily, falling asleep was easy once he was home, once he’d kissed Shikadai good night, once Temari was lying beside him. But tonight, he found himself still awake, staring at the ceiling. Unable to fall into sleep, because his mind was churning, with questions and thoughts and things he couldn’t control.
He wanted a cigarette. Since Shikadai had been born, he had only smoked on occasion, very rarely. He was proud of the fact, but still, it was something he needed. Something he craved. As silently as he could, he eased the drawer next to his bed open. The wood didn’t even creak, but even so, a voice broke the silence.
“Don’t.”
“I thought you were asleep.” Shikamaru let his arm fall back onto the bed.
Temari rolled over to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“Naruto.”
“That could mean anything.”
Shikamaru smiled softly, against his will. He eased a bit closer to her, pulling her against his chest, leaning a cheek into her wild hair. “Worried about him. He’s working late all the time. I think he’s still in the office now.”
Temari leaned heavily into him, obviously tired. Still, she murmured, “Gonna do anything about it?”
“I’m thinking.” He glanced over his shoulder at the drawer. Maybe once she was asleep again, he could sneak out, have a smoke, finish thinking.
“I threw them out,” she mumbled, eyes closed. “So don’t bother looking.”
“Woman, why? They are one of three things in this house that bring me any sort of happiness.”
“So occupy yourself with the other two.”
He ran a hand through her hair. “They’re sleeping . . .”
“You should be, too.”
“Yeah . . .” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Good night.”
“G’night.”
He didn’t fall asleep though. He was too busy thinking.
Once he was certain Temari was asleep, Shikamaru eased out of bed, wandering silently through the house to Shikadai’s room. He paused along the way to stare at one of the photos framed on the wall. It was little Shikadai, held upon Shikamaru’s hip, leaning an arm out towards a curious deer. His tiny fingertips just barely touched against the deer’s nose.
Shikamaru went into his son’s room.
Shikadai liked to keep everything neat. There were papers stacked into separate piles on his desk, his school bag on the chair, already packed for the next day. And he was sleeping soundly, sprawled on his back with his hair in a wild dark wave across his pillow, one foot dangling over the edge of the bed.
Shikamaru lifted his leg and put it back on the bed, pulling the blankets to cover him more fully.
He thought about Naruto, still holed up in his office, and wondered, Who would want to miss this?
Why would anyone give up moments like this?
He had been staring at Naruto for twenty minutes without moving. Just standing, hands in pockets, face set in a frown. Naruto seemed not to have noticed. He slumped in his chair, moving papers around listlessly.
“Living the dream, huh?” Shikamaru said suddenly.
That got Naruto’s attention. He looked up with tired blue eyes. “What?”
“Living the dream. Being the Hokage. Everything you ever wanted, right here at your fingertips.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Naruto just looked confused.
“I didn’t get what I wanted.” Shikamaru moved to the window, looking out at the village spread below. Streetlights dotted the view; windows glowed. “I wanted to live an average life. Marry a girl who wasn’t anything special. Have two kids, and just work on things that weren’t too important. I didn’t get any of that.”
Naruto blinked. “Okay . . .?”
“I didn’t get my average life. I now have a position at the Hokage’s side. I certainly didn’t get a wife who was nothing special. Temari’s always been more than I deserved, and usually more than I can handle. I got one kid, so that’s good. But I’m still working what is one of the more important jobs in the village. And you know what?” He turned around, catching Naruto’s eye. “I’m happy. I’m happy with my life. I’m glad I have what I’ve got, and I’m glad it didn’t work out any differently.”
“That’s great, man,” Naruto said, forcing a smile. “You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you,” Shikamaru said softly. “But for some reason, you aren’t. You’re here all the time, miserable. You’re never home, and I want to know why?”
“Why what?”
“Why don’t you go home? Isn’t there anything there you want to go home to at the end of the day?”
Naruto broke eye contact, staring down at his desk.
“Three nights this week I’ve gotten home after Shikadai went to bed,” Shikamaru continued. “You know what I miss? Hearing him say ‘Good night, Dad’. And every day that passes by that I don’t hear it, it’s another day closer to when he stops saying it. Because he’s gonna grow up too fast, and I refuse to miss it. And that is why I’m going home,” Shikamaru said firmly. “And you’re going, too. Go home. Go to your family. Because before you can blink they won’t be young and eager to see you anymore.”
“You know this can’t wait,” Naruto gestured wearily to the stack of papers to his left. “I’ll start these in a minute, but these mission reports need to be seen first.”
“You don’t have to do those. I can check them.”
“But if there’s anything that needs attention-“
“That’s why I’m here. I’ll let you know if you need to double check anything. But you can’t manage it all alone.”
Naruto blinked at him, expression slightly despairing.
“I’ll help you,” Shikamaru sighed. “We’ll get it done.”
Temari was still up when he got home, and Shikamaru wished he could ignore the little pang in his chest when it was only her waiting on the couch. What he wouldn’t have given to have Shikadai come running up to him.
She glanced up at him, and wordlessly threw him a small box.
He caught it, instantly recognising the sound. He turned the cigarettes over in his hand a few times. He spoke softly, “When did he go to bed?”
“About an hour ago. You can wake him.”
“Nothing can wake him.” Shikamaru pocketed the cigarettes, and made his way to Shikadai’s bedroom. “He could sleep through an earthquake.”
The door was half open already, and Shikamaru eased it the rest of the way open, slipping soundlessly inside.
Shikadai was sleeping deeply, snuggled up under his blankets, hair falling every direction, as it always did when loose. It may have been dark like Shikamaru’s hair, but left to its own devices it was as wild and unmanageable as Temari’s.
Shikamaru bent down, smoothing some hair back from Shikadai’s face. As he expected, there was no response. Shikadai slept like the dead.
Shikamaru straightened up, and left the room quietly.
Lying in bed later, fidgeting with the cigarettes but not opening them, he asked Temari what Shikadai had done that day. He felt like he was missing it. He was missing out on his son’s life. Sure, he was there for the big things, but . . . the small days counted too. They counted just as much.
“He passed his biology test. Barely.” Temari didn’t look up from her book. “He’s lazy at school. You should talk to him. And he spent the afternoon with Boruto instead of coming home for chores.”
“That makes sense.”
“He’s been working on his Shadow Possession jutsu. He asked when you could help. I said the weekend.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Shikamaru mused. “I’ll try get home before it’s too dark.” When Temari didn’t add anything, he urged, “Tell me more.”
“There isn’t much more to tell.”
“What did he have for dinner? Did he sing in the shower? How many excuses did he have for not doing his homework?”
“Why the sudden interest?” Temari closed her book, turning her full attention to Shikamaru. “Are you okay?”
“I just . . . I feel like I’m missing too much. And Naruto is, too, and it’s making me anxious.”
“You’ve never missed anything important,” Temari said softly, far softer than he was used to.
“I know. But his life isn’t just restricted to ‘important’ days. I want to experience the unimportant ones too. I don’t want to look back on my life and wish I was in his life more. I don’t want to regret not spending time with him. Every mission could be the last, and I don’t want him growing up without me being there.”
“This is more about Naruto than you, isn’t it? Because you know you’re talking crap; you’re always there when he needs you.”
“Am I . . . doing okay? With Shikadai? Since Naruto became Hokage I’ve been working longer hours trying to help him. It was okay the first few months, but it’s starting to become years. I just . . . I don’t know what the future is going to bring. How much time we’re going to have. I just want to know that I’m doing okay as a father . . .”
Temari laid a hand on his chest. “You’re doing fine.”
“My father was a really good man,” Shikamaru said quietly. “That’s what I have to compare myself to. And I don’t know if I’m as good as he was, as a person, or a shinobi, or a father.”
“Well, my father was shit,” Temari leaned up to kiss him softly on the cheek. “So, from my point of view? You’re perfect. And Shikadai thinks so as well.”
“Really?”
“Of course he does. He likes you more than he likes me.”
Shikamaru chuckled. “Well, that’s just common sense. He’s a smart kid.” He laughed when she slapped his chest. “I’m kidding. You’re great, too.”
“Whatever Naruto is doing,” Temari said, “Is not your problem. Your kid is. And he’s perfectly happy. That’s what counts. Stop comparing yourself to Naruto, or anyone else. You’re smarter than that.”
Shikamaru fell silent then. He knew there was no point in dwelling on the past, or on things he couldn’t change. But he could change the time he got home every day.
And he wanted to be home in time to hear Shikadai say good night.
It was late afternoon, and the village was busy below them. Shikamaru stared out the window, craning his head to the path he knew Shikadai took to get home, hoping to get a glimpse of him. Had he passed already? Had Shikamaru missed him?
He turned back to Naruto, who was shuffling papers around in a listless and uninspired fashion. He didn’t seem to be getting any work done.
“Are you happy?” Shikamaru asked, breaking the silence that had been between them for hours.
Naruto looked startled. “Of course I am.”
“I’m finding that hard to believe.” Shikamaru sighed. “You spend every waking moment here. Working. And it’s gotten to the point where I think you’re just making excuses so you don’t have to go home.”
Naruto looked at him, blank and uncomprehending. He took a moment to think, before venturing cautiously, “I’m just trying to do my job well. Everyone depends on me, ya know? The entire village. I need to be there for everyone.”
“Yes, but you also need to be there for your family,” Shikamaru said quietly.
Naruto lowered his gaze, seemingly out of arguments. He said softly, “The entire village is my family.”
Shikamaru felt a buzz in his pocket. He checked his phone. Video message from Temari? Suitably intrigued, he opened it.
The first thing he heard was his son, sounding immensely proud. Then the video focused, and he could see Shikadai, patented grin in place. “Mom? Are you getting it? Both of them.”
“Yeah, kid, both of them.” The video moved, tracking from Shikadai to the left, where two deer stood statue still. A thin black shadow connected them to Shikadai.
Shikamaru couldn’t help the slow smile that spread across his face. He knew Shikadai had been practicing – they had plans this weekend to train together – and he knew the poor deer had been subject to most of the practicing. He hadn’t realised Shikadai was good enough to hold more than one at a time. He was still smiling when the video moved back to Shikadai, who was crowing triumphantly.
“There’s a third one there. I’m gonna get it-“ The next moment Shikamaru saw his son hurtling backwards from a full on charge from a stag. He flew dramatically out of frame, and Temari snorted. “Learning curve, kid. Shouldn’t have looked away.”
Shikamaru chuckled.
“What?” Naruto asked, sounding slightly suspicious.
“Shikadai,” he replied, as though that was sufficient information. “He’s training hard. Temari just let me know how it was going.”
Naruto’s face softened. “You’re really proud of him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Shikamaru put his phone back into his pocket. “How is Boruto’s training going?”
“I don’t know,” Naruto admitted. “He never asks me for help. I don’t think he wants me to help.”
“Have you offered?”
“Yeah. I mean, not in a while. I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for your family.” It was an observation, but Shikamaru couldn’t help but feel an edge of judgement had leaked into his tone.
“The whole village is my family,” Naruto repeated stubbornly.
“That doesn’t mean your real family is any less important,” Shikamaru replied swiftly. “I understand that the village is important. I’ve been at this longer than you. I know how it all works. But I have a son at home, and I want to see him. I want to hear about his day, I want to help him learn ninjutsu, I want to watch him grow.”
Naruto didn’t answer.
“You need to decide where your priorities lie,” Shikamaru said. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left without further argument.
The sun was setting, casting long shadows. There wouldn’t be much time to train with Shikadai when he got home, if any time at all. Maybe Shikadai could just show him what he’d been doing, and they could spend more time working together on the weekend.
He finished the journey home brooding and planning, his mind churning with thoughts and ideas. It was almost a surprise when he was faced with his house; he had made the walk entirely on auto-pilot.
“I’m home,” Shikamaru announced.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Temari shouted.
He went into the house, taking in the sight of his son sitting on the counter with an ice pack held to his head, clothing rumpled and expression sour. There was a scuff on the elbow Shikamaru could see.
“I got charged,” Shikadai said in a weary voice. “By the stag. The one with the dark spot on his knee?”
“Well,” Shikamaru came closer. “He needed to protect his herd. There was a very skilled ninja catching his does.”
“You saw?” Shikadai perked up a bit. “It was a drag catching two of them at once. They kept moving out the way.” There was a dark spot of blood on Shikadai’s shirt.
“Temari?” Shikamaru pulled his son’s collar aside, peering in to see what damage had been done. “How deep did this go?”
“He’s fine,” Temari replied breezily. “Your mom gave him something for it.”
“Deer antlers are good for injuries,” Shikadai informed him.
“Yes, but not when they’re still attached to the deer and are impaled through your chest.”
“He’s fine,” Temari repeated, not taking her attention off dishing up dinner. “A couple of scrapes are normal when training. Didn’t you ever get trampled by a deer?”
Shikamaru half-shrugged. “Once or twice.”
Shikadai seemed somewhat proud of his war wounds (“Boys,” Temari rolled her eyes) and came triumphantly out from his shower after dinner flaunting them. Topless, and decorated in three round punctures, he presented himself in front of Shikamaru while he sat on the back porch, watching the stars and having a drink.
“Dad,” Shikadai held his arms out to the side to better display his injuries, pajama shirt clutched in one hand. “He got me.”
Shikamaru peered at the holes in his son’s flesh. None looked very deep. “Why didn’t you use your shadow to trap him when he charged?”
“I wasn’t ready for that. Will you help me?” Shikadai sent a wary look over his shoulder as Temari approached them, a small jar in her hand.
Shikamaru recognised it as the ointment his mother liked to use on cuts, and he winced on Shikadai’s behalf. It stung like a bitch, but it worked incredibly well.
“I’m fine,” Shikadai said defensively. “They don’t need any more treatment.”
“Sit your whiny ass down and shut up,” Temari said firmly.
Shikadai plopped to his knees with a frown. He huffed, jaw set stubbornly to one side, as Temari knelt in front of him.
“Go easy on him,” Shikamaru said. “That stuff hurts.”
“You’re too easy on him,” Temari grumbled, giving Shikadai a warning look as he leant away from her. Shikadai squirmed as Temari applied the ointment, biting his lip and clenching his hands. “Okay, you’re done,” she said, sitting back and inspecting him. “Go to bed.”
Shikadai stood up, pulling his shirt over his head. “Night,” he said sullenly.
“Good night,” Shikamaru replied, grinning as his son side stepped Temari’s attempt to grab him in a hug and stomped irritably back into the house. He turned back to the stars, grin still in place.
“Happy now?” Temari asked, coming to sit next to him.
He put an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah.” He squeezed her lightly. “I wish Naruto could have this too.”
“Nothing is stopping him. Why are you blaming yourself for his choices?”
“I’m not, but . . .” Shikamaru sighed. “When was the last time his kids said good night to him?”
And didn’t he crave that the way Shikamaru did?
“This is a priority!” Naruto insisted.
“Your family is a priority!” Shikamaru snapped back.
Rare were the times either of them raised their voices with each other, and even rarer were the times they disagreed. But the clock had passed nine, and Shikamaru was fed up.
“They’ll be there no matter what time I get home, but this needs to be done now.”
“Just because you know they’ll always be there doesn’t mean you can just neglect them,” Shikamaru retorted. “What kind of man does that make you? You have to actually be there. Not just assume that because it’s your family you can sweep them under the rug and only pay attention to them when it’s convenient.”
“We have a job to do,” Naruto argued. “One that affects an entire village.”
“Maybe you can convince yourself that the entire village is more important than any one person, but to me my son is the most important person in my life, and nothing in the world is going to change my mind.” Shikamaru spoke stiffly. He paused, gathering his thoughts. “If this job – if supporting you – means Shikadai drops out of my life, then I quit. I got you this far; do the rest alone.”
For the first time, Naruto looked genuinely worried. “You . . . wouldn’t quit . . .”
“Ask me to choose between my son and my job, and I would.”
Naruto paused. There was a tense silence between them. Finally, the Hokage nodded. “Okay. You win. Go home.”
Shikamaru stayed stubbornly where he was. “You too.”
“Someone has to work,” Naruto said wearily.
Shikamaru studied him. He looked at the lines on his face, and the hopelessness at all he had to do. Overwhelmed and overworked, and he wondered when last Naruto had spent an entire day with his family. “When last did you spend time with Boruto and Himawari?”
Naruto shrugged.
“Go home. I’ve got this.”
“No, don’t be dumb, I can-“
“Go,” Shikamaru repeated. “You need it more.”
Naruto didn’t argue further. He paused on his way out, though, looking back at Shikamaru. “Thanks.”
“Say good night to the kids,” Shikamaru said, looking at the stacks of paper around him and reaching for the nearest one. “Tell Hinata something nice. Just . . . go be a dad for a bit and not just Hokage.”
“What about you?”
“It’s troublesome, but Temari won’t mind if I’m late home.” And neither would Shikadai, because he understood. And they had said good night yesterday. Shikamaru could wait another day to hear it, especially if it gave Naruto a chance to experience the same thing.
Temari was sitting on the couch, looking over some papers when Shikamaru got home. Shikadai was next to her, lying haphazardly, eyes closed, breathing steadily.
“He tried to stay awake,” Temari said, not looking up. “But apparently he takes after you, and once he closed his eyes, he was out.”
Shikamaru sighed. “Yeah. Sounds like me.”
Wordlessly, he gathered Shikadai up into his arms to carry him to bed. Shikadai was light but gangly, all long, skinny limbs and bony joints. He would fill out in a few years; Shikamaru had looked the same.
“He’s getting too tall to carry,” Shikamaru said. He put Shikadai down carefully. It didn’t matter how Shikadai was lying, he would sleep any way and in any position. Still Shikamaru took his time trying to arrange his son into a normal-looking position.
Temari snorted. “He’s not ‘too tall’. He’s never going to be too tall. If he needs to be carried, you’ll carry him.”
“Too tall,” Shikamaru repeated, leaving the room and closing Shikadai’s door softly. ‘Too tall’ really just meant ‘too growing up’, ‘too not a baby anymore’, ‘too much time running out for Shikadai to be his little boy before the responsibility of a life dragged him away from the childish innocence that Shikamaru wanted to savour’. He noticed a slight glint in Temari’s eyes which drew him from his melancholy introspection. “. . . What?”
“If he’s ‘too tall’,” she said mockingly, “Then so am I.”
“I don’t carry you.” Shikamaru had barely finished the sentence when Temari jumped at him. He staggered back one step before finding his balance, wrapping his arms around her automatically. “Woman, shout a warning first!”
She laughed, legs tightening around his waist, arms around his neck. “Why?”
“You’re so troublesome.” Suitably balanced now, he walked to their bedroom. Part of him wanted to slam her into a wall, just to show her who was in charge (Not him. Never.) but he didn’t. “I could have dropped you.”
“But you wouldn’t.” She poked his nose with her own.
“Hm. I might.” He didn’t put her down on the bed, just flopped forward so she was underneath him, catching his weight with his arms. He took a moment to just look at her. At thick blonde hair, a smirk always playing on her lips, stunning green eyes. She was his, and he was hers, and he didn’t know how he ended up with so much in his life.
She gazed back at him. “You’ve been very introspective the last few days. Is Naruto still bothering you?”
“Forget about him,” Shikamaru mumbled, leaning down, resting his face against her neck. “I’ve got you, now, and Shikadai, and nothing else matters.”
Worked mattered. Being late mattered. Missing Shikadai’s life mattered.
Uncannily in tune with his thoughts, as always, Temari held him close to her. “Everything is fine. You’ve got the weekend to spend time with Shikadai.”
He breathed against her skin, heavy and defeated and just weighed down by too much.
“He loves you very much. And he wants to show you what he’s been doing.”
“Tell me about his day.” He spoke into her skin, slightly muffled, but she understood him.
She eased out from under him, arranging them both more comfortably, because Shikamaru was liable to nod off to the sound of her voice. “His wounds are much better. He says they itch. And he’s used them as an excuse not to train – said he needed the time off to recover, even though he’s fine and he knows it.”
She pulled her fingers gently through Shikamaru’s hair. He was almost asleep. It didn’t take much; let him lie still for a minute and he would be out. “He got in trouble in class today for falling asleep. Because he’s your son, and he’s just like you, and nothing will ever change that. And tomorrow, you can say good night to him. I’ll make sure he’s waiting.”
Shikadai always ate breakfast like he was being tortured. Pulling faces, pouting, glaring, he rested his cheek on one palm, poking at his food with the other hand. “It’s too early to eat.”
“You say that every morning,” Shikamaru pointed out.
“Because we wake up too early.” Shikadai sighed theatrically. He was all Nara laziness, but his flair for the dramatic came straight from the desert.
“I’ll try get home in time for us to train together today,” Shikamaru said. “I know I’ve been late most of this week.”
“S’okay,” Shikadai shrugged. “You have an important job. I get it.”
“I know you understand, but I should still be able to give you attention. It’s also my job to raise you right.” He paused. “And I want to say good night to you every day.”
“Sounds like a drag.”
“Maybe, but it’s something I want to do.”
Shikadai poked at his food some more. He shrugged one shoulder again. “Maybe you shouldn’t worry too much about saying good night. I mean, you’re always here to say good morning. That’s good enough for me. I don’t see why it’s a big deal.” He yawned.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.” And there it was, just like his father used to say. That role was now Shikamaru’s, and sometimes it ended too soon and sometimes it was snatched away before you were ready, and Shikamaru just wanted time to stop for a moment.
Shikadai flicked his eyes up to his father, then back down to his food. “Okay.”
“It’s something that’s important to me,” Shikamaru said. “That’s all you need to know for now.”
Shikadai looked thoughtful then. He chewed his food slowly, exotic green eyes considering and analysing. He didn’t add anything more to the conversation, but when he looked at Shikamaru, it was differently.
Like he was seeing his father for the first time.
“Are you mad at me?” Naruto asked, sounding oddly subdued, and very unlike himself.
“Are you mad at yourself?” Shikamaru asked back, not looking up. He was working through a back log of Naruto’s work, his own long finished.
“Yeah, a little.” The confession surprised Shikamaru.
He paused for a fraction of a second, then continued working undeterred. “I’m not mad at you, exactly. Frustrated, I think. Because you’re missing out on the life you always wanted, and I keep trying to bail you out and help you the best I can. I know I’m happy with my life. I worry that you aren’t.”
“There have been a lot of changes to the Leaf,” Naruto said. “Things will settle down. We won’t be working this hard forever.”
“And when it settles,” Shikamaru looked up, meeting Naruto’s eyes. “Will your family still be there, or will Boruto have grown up and moved out, and Himawari be engrossed in work and boys and not have time for you, and Hinata realised she’s wasted a life waiting at home for a husband who never arrived?”
Maybe it was harsh, but it was exactly how Shikamaru felt. Frustrated at Naruto’s priorities, even though he knew there was no way around it. The village had to come first, the safety, happiness and security of the people was their main concern but . . . but did family have to fall by the wayside for that?
Was there really no way out, no way to have it all?
Oftentimes when dreams became real, they brought with them a terrible sense of reality, and disappointment that the dream was the best version of life, and the truth, the actuality of it, would never measure up.
Maybe Shikamaru was lucky none of his dreams came true. His reality was so much better.
“I used to admire you,” he said.
Naruto’s blue eyes dropped down to his desk.
“I respected everything you did, and everything you had done. You are a hero in this village, and across all five nations. You have an uncanny ability to bring people together, to heal any wound in a person’s heart. And I helped you achieve your dream because I thought it was the best thing for you, and the village, and the world. It probably was. You’re still exceptional. However,” Shikamaru sighed. “Now I find you’re the goal to avoid.”
“Because I’m never home, and it bothers you,” Naruto finished quietly.
“You didn’t have a family growing up. You don’t know what it’s like, and what you’re missing. But I do. And I’m your advisor – so take my advice. Go home more. Don’t waste your life behind a desk. The dreams you wanted to come true – being acknowledged and accepted, and loved - that’s all waiting at home for you.”
“I know.”
“You haven’t been yourself, lately. You’re worrying me, and I don’t know how to make you see sense. You’re bull-headed and troublesome, and . . . and if you drag me down, I’ll walk away.”
Somewhat tentatively, Naruto reached for an envelope in his desk, and held it out towards Shikamaru.
“What’s this?” Shikamaru looked suspiciously at the envelope Naruto handed him.
“Amended working hours.” Naruto elaborated at Shikamaru’s quizzical expression, “You scared me senseless talking about quitting. I figured if the only way to keep you as my advisor was to give you more time off, then I would do it. Because you’re the best, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. So, if you want more time with your family, you should get it.”
“What brought this about?” Shikamaru asked, opening the envelope and skimming the letter inside.
Naruto laughed sheepishly. “Boruto. We talked a bit last night. And . . . he said good night, for the first time in a while. And you’re right. I should be hearing that more. And wanting that more. So I’m gonna do what you said and try to be there for him, more. And you should be there for Shikadai.”
Shikamaru stared at him.
Naruto rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “I’ve been doing a pretty bad job as a father. And probably as Hokage. And you’ve had to suffer for that, because I’ve needed you to help me more. So . . . sorry, ‘ttebayo.”
“You’re doing fine as Hokage. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be here working all the time.” Shikamaru folded the letter again. “You’re still here, though.”
“We’ll have this finished soon,” Naruto promised. “And then we can both go home, and say good night to our kids.”
Shikamaru knew Naruto was trying. He was trying to make amends, and sort out his life, and find his role as father and Hokage. But trying didn’t make the work any less, and Shikamaru already knew they wouldn’t be finished in time, and tonight would be yet another night he didn’t make it home in time.
He didn’t say anything, though. Naruto was trying, and Shikamaru didn’t want to discourage him. He continued to work, pretending not to notice the clock ticking away.
He got home defeated, late, and exhausted. His first stop was Shikadai’s room. It was, unsurprisingly, dark and silent.
Shikadai was sleeping in a tangle of blankets, his pillow half under his head and half under his shoulder. There was a strand of dark hair in his mouth, one hand flung up over his head.
Shikamaru stared at him for a while. “Sorry, kid,” he said softly. “Didn’t make it home in time. Tomorrow, okay?” He reached a hand out, brushing the hair from Shikadai’s mouth. “Good night, Shikadai.”
Temari was leaning against the door frame, arms folded, watching him. “He’s not upset.”
“I am.” Shikamaru came up to her. He glanced back at Shikadai once more.
The boy snorted, shifting in his sleep. He turned his head the other way, squirming into a more comfortable position.
“I’m going to work less,” Shikamaru announced softly, so as not to disturb his son. “Naruto’s given me permission.”
“Starting when?”
“As soon as I get him caught up. Few days, maybe. Hopefully not more.”
“What brought that about?”
“Threatened to quit,” Shikamaru admitted. “Hoping that gave him the reality check he needs to spend more time with his family, too. He’s a bit dense, though, and might need a few more reminders.”
“You are not responsible for his decisions,” Temari reminded him. “If Naruto won’t take your advice and go home, that is not your problem. If he won’t streamline his work the way you tell him to, that is not your problem. But what you do is, and how you handle everything. That, right there,” she indicated to Shikadai. “That’s your problem. But Naruto isn’t.”
“I know.”
“So don’t blame yourself for his decisions and his behaviour.”
He sighed. “What would I do without you to talk some sense into me?”
He expected some sort of snarky answer. That was what he usually got. But clearly his melancholy was worrying her, and she laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’d still figure it out. You always do.”
The office was eerily silent as they worked. Naruto usually babbled on about nonsense, but he had spent most of the evening sending Shikamaru anxious looks, which Shikamaru was studiously trying to ignore.
“Sorry,” Naruto blurted out suddenly.
Shikamaru glanced up. “For what?”
“It’s past six. You should be home.”
“So should you.” He turned his gaze downwards again. “You can stop panicking. I’m not going to quit the moment the clock hits six thirty. We’re in this together, and I need to get you on the right track.”
“You’re missing time with Shikadai.”
“I find it alarming that you’re more concerned with me being with my child than with you being with yours.”
Naruto flushed. “I just . . . It’s not fair for me to screw up your life too, ya know?”
“So you admit there’s a problem in your life?”
“You said you used to admire me,” Naruto said quietly. So unlike himself, and something needed to change. “Used to. But not anymore. Now I’m the person you try not to be like, because I’m not what you want in life.”
Shikamaru looked at him. “You’re a busy father, but you’re not a bad one. All I want is to be as good as my father was to me . . . And he was there for me, often.”
Naruto had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but Shikamaru knew he wasn’t willing to let go of his current work system just yet. Naruto was holding tightly to his Hokage dream, but it meant something else had to give, and so far, it was family time.
But Shikamaru wasn’t Hokage, and didn’t have his dreams in this very office. His were at home, and he intended to live them just as much as Naruto was living his. “Something has to change.”
A worried frown flickered across Naruto’s face.
“I’m not leaving,” Shikamaru added quickly. “But the number of nights you’ve got me here late are running out. I’m not holding your hand through this forever. You need to step up your paperwork skills, and I’m stepping up as a father.” He glanced at the clock again. “It’s your choice if you change your routine or stay the same. But every hour you’re in here alone, well, you know where I am.”
They fell into silence after that. Shikamaru hoped Naruto was digesting his words and reassessing his priorities. But even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t going to change anything Shikamaru did. The minutes crawled past, and Shikamaru was acutely aware of the time passing by. The sky was dark and there was a sense of urgency to everything he did, because he wanted to get it done, get it caught up, get Naruto on the right track and finally say ‘no’ to being here all hours of the damn day.
He stood up suddenly, and Naruto startled in his seat.
“I need some air. I won’t be long,” Shikamaru explained.
“Okay,” Naruto murmured.
Shikamaru left the office, wandering into the hall. He leant against the wall, breathing out heavily.
Remember the days of watching clouds, he mused to himself. When life had no worries and no responsibility, and all I had to think about was myself.
But now there was someone else dogging his every thought, someone else who weighed into every decision. The ‘King’ he needed to protect. The responsibility, the pressure, of being a shinobi paled in comparison to what he felt as a father.
For the first time in his life he wanted to step up and be better, and do better. Here was a task he yearned to not only succeed at, but to excel at. And at its core were the simple things – hearing Shikadai say ‘hello’, listening to him sigh and go on about what a drag school was, watching him outgrow clothes, watching him slowly perfect his Shadow techniques.
Shikamaru wanted nothing more than the simple things – and maybe that was what Naruto couldn’t understand. He was big and extravagant in everything he did. He was flamboyant and eccentric, and everything he did commanded attention.
That was the difference between them, and that was why Shikamaru was feeling the pressure now, because he wanted the simple life back. The simplicity of his ideal family.
He checked his phone. He had missed a call from Shikadai. He was instantly worried; had something happened? To him, or to Temari, or to anyone?
There was a voice message waiting. The fact that it hadn’t been Temari calling was comforting, because it probably meant she had everything handled. He checked the hallway for any people, and, finding it empty, listened to the message.
And once he heard it, he smiled, and slumped against the wall, and all his tension just drained away.
“Hey, Dad, just me. Uh, this is a drag, but Mom said I should call you so I . . . I just wanted to say, um, good night, Dad.”
“Thanks,” he spoke into the darkness, tossing the cigarette box from hand to hand as he lay on his back. It was still unopened.
“Hm?” Temari stayed snuggled into the blankets.
“For telling Shikadai to call.”
“What?” She turned around, propped up on one elbow. “I didn’t tell him anything. What did he do?”
Huh. That was an interesting development. He felt a smile spread across his face. “Never mind. Nothing important.”
“You’re so troublesome,” she mocked.
“Yeah, so are you,” he put the cigarette box down next to his bed. “How late is it?”
“Ugh, about midnight. Why?”
“I’ll be back soon.” Shikamaru pulled the covers back and got out of bed.
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Temari mumbled, but she didn’t try to call him back or follow him. “You never leave bed voluntarily.”
“Everything is fine,” he assured her. He made his way to Shikadai’s room, entering silently.
Shikadai had his back to the door, his face cushioned on one hand, a stubborn curl of hair over his forehead. Shikamaru sat down gently on the bed.
“Thank you,” he said softly, smoothing back the wayward lock of hair. “For calling.”
Shikadai made no outward signs of being awake, but Shikamaru saw him flinch ever so slightly.
There was a lot Shikamaru wanted to say – Don’t be embarrassed by it. I really needed it. I really wanted it. You made the whole shitty day better.
But Shikadai didn’t want to hear that – he didn’t want to hear any of it, if the furrow between his closed eyes was anything to go by, and he was studiously attempting to look asleep. His body was tense lines, caught in a lie and ridiculously ashamed of his uncharacteristic display of affection earlier.
If there was one thing that had Shikadai squirming it was any sort of outward manifestation of affection, and Shikamaru assumed that was why he tried to pass it off as Temari’s idea. It was so like him that it made Shikamaru smile. It was like both of them; Shikamaru was no different. It warmed his heart to know his son was like him in so many endearing ways.
Shikadai was his shadow in several senses of the word, and not even Naruto’s poor attempts at time management could change that.
“Good night, Shikadai. Sleep well,” he said, patting him on the shoulder absently, and rising to leave.
The world wasn’t magically better. All of Shikamaru’s problems and worries were not magically solved. There would still be late nights, there would still be days missed and disappointment and too much work and not enough family time. There would be days when he would come home miserable, and days when he would question if it was worth it. There would be days he would miss his simple life, and days he would miss his family, and days he would question himself.
And Naruto took an eternity to learn anything new; Shikamaru wasn’t optimistic that he would miraculously change his ways and desire time at home the way Shikamaru did. Naruto would always be at the back of his mind, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that would drive Shikamaru in the right direction.
But it didn’t matter what Naruto did (Temari was always right, and he sighed internally) because Shikamaru had his own life and his own choices, and he was going to take his life the way he wanted.
And he wanted to be here. This moment in time, this was just right.
Peace across all five nations.
A village under Naruto’s watchful eye, burgeoning and developing and opening new doors for the future.
A low-risk (If tedious) job.
And his family, always ready and waiting.
He paused at the door when Shikadai moved ever so slightly. Just a little shift, a lowering of one shoulder, a very small tilt of his head. And a small voice, coloured with awkwardness, acknowledging through the darkness, “. . . Good night, Dad . . .”