Chapter Text
Shikamaru wants it on record that he has no intention of putting in any hard work into his plan. In fact, it’s less of a plan, and more of a post-dream vague determination towards the current shinobi way of life in Konoha.
It started with a nap.
Twelve-year-old Shikamaru spends most of his days napping, so it appears to be completely ordinary for him to wake up mid-afternoon on the Nara forest grounds behind his house and lazily blink up at what had woken him.
His father, Nara Shikaku, is perhaps the only person on this earth who could possibly get away with waking Shikamaru up on a Sunday afternoon. Anyone else risks death even trying.
It’s because of the fact it’s his father and no one else, that Shikamaru is kind when he eventually pries open his mouth to speak to him.
“What?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly which he tries to play off as being rough from sleep.
If his father’s eyebrow raise is anything to go by, he fails.
“Your mother has been calling for you for the past twenty minutes,” he says in lieu of greeting.
Shikamaru groans and lays back down on the grass, throwing an arm over his eyes idly. “Troublesome woman. I was dreaming.”
His father makes an audible scoff, and very gently nudges him with a sandaled foot to get him up. But instead of admonishing him for his description of his mother, his father goes off the predetermined script of their usual interactions, and asks him a question.
“What did you dream of?” he prompts, an odd gravity to the question.
Shikamaru removes his arm from his eyes to stare at his father with quizzical interest.
“…I dreamt how much of a drag the genin team assignments are going to be,” Shikamaru replies, still slightly confused but willing to indulge.
His father raises an eyebrow. “You don’t graduate for another month. You have no way of knowing what they are.”
Shikamaru rolls his eyes at that, and his father smiles a little at the gesture. He sits on the grass next to Shikamaru after a moment.
“It’s easy to guess where everyone will be,” Shikamaru replies casually. “Obviously Ino and Chōji will be with me since you, uncle Chōza and uncle Inoichi were on a team together. Hyūga Hinata and Aburame Shino will be put together for a decent offense and Inuzuka Kiba will be shunted to a support role until his dog is grown. That leaves Uchiha Sasuke, Naruto, and most likely Haruno Sakura for the last team. If Naruto passes this year, that is. I don’t really care about the rest of the class, honestly, so wherever they go is unimportant to me. I’m still working on who everyone’s sensei’s will be, but I’m willing to bet money that Sarutobi Asuma is mine.”
His father looks briefly impressed by Shikamaru’s reasoning before he rolls his eyes.
“You went through my office again, didn’t you,” he says, tired.
Shikamaru shrugs. “You left the sensei recommendations on your desk. It was free game.”
His father sighs and gestures with his head to the house behind them. “Soon you’ll be a shinobi, Shikamaru. You won’t be able to get away with reading those without punishment.”
“…I know.”
“And besides, you’re so confident that only those people will pass. I can’t help but be skeptical,” his father continues.
Shikamaru kind of gets it. He’s been stealthily pushing his graduation from the Academy back for years, so he could graduate at the same time as his friends and not be shouldered with too much to do. He’s also sure his parents are the only ones who realise this as well, so his father’s skepticism is mostly a front for his curiosity.
“No one else in my year understands that even if you don’t pass into a genin team, you’ll still get shunted into the divisions anyway. I presume most of my unnamed classmates will go to general reception and bookkeeping roles,” Shikamaru adds with a wave of his hand. “Everyone else will find something to do, and your sensei recommendations didn’t cover more than six positions. It was just a matter of deciding who would go with who.”
His father is silent for a long moment, and Shikamaru takes advantage of that to close his eyes for a second longer. If his father gets distracted enough, maybe he could squeeze in another quick nap…
“And you disagree with the current placements for what reason, Shikamaru?”
Evidently, napping is pointless. Why does no one respect his sleeping habits any more? He’s a growing boy!
Shikamaru makes his disdain heard by groaning loudly. “Do I have to explain? Aren't my objections enough for you?”
His father makes an evidently unhappy noise. “Far from it. Explain.”
Deciding he’s too old to throw tantrums (and with heed to how much effort they take), Shikamaru huffs pissily once more before relenting.
“They aren’t utilising the class the right way. I don’t think it’s Iruka-sensei’s fault, but no one’s paid attention to the particulars of a graduating class in decades, and you can tell,” he begins, voice cracking embarrassingly halfway through as he thinks it through and starts to get frustrated. “Teams are being pushed out for the sake of it, you know? No one cares about recon and defence teams or eventual jōnin specialisation. It’s stupid.”
When he manages to pry his eyes open after having them slip shut without his input at some point during his rant, he finds his father staring at him intently.
It’s not the look of his laidback and slightly useless dad. It’s the look of a commander, a shinobi who has found an interesting piece of intel that they want to hound on. It unnerves Shikamaru the smallest bit.
“So what are you going to do about it?” a familiar voice sounds from right behind them both, interrupting their stare down and startling a yelp out of Shikamaru and a flinch from his father.
They both whirl around and come face-to-knee with his mother, Nara Yoshino.
She’s standing above them both with her arms crossed, dressed in a far more casual outfit than generally expected of such a tough woman, and with another unnerving look on her face.
Shikamaru shuffles around on the grass, suddenly very uncomfortable with the unfamiliar faces his parents are making towards him.
“…I’m not going to do anything,” Shikamaru eventually replies.
His mother raises an eyebrow. “Why not? You sounded very enthusiastic before.”
His father snorts but Shikamaru doesn’t look away from his mother to glare at him, too cowed by her presence.
“It’s troublesome,” he settles for saying. “Things will work fine if they’re left how they are. It’s not like we’re in any danger of another war, or the village falling into chaos.”
“And you’re really okay with doing nothing?” his father prompts.
“Yes.”
“Shikamaru,” his mother warns.
“I’ll talk to Iruka-sensei tomorrow about it,” Shikamaru instantly changes tracks.
“I’ll do you one better,” his father intones heavily. “Come to work with me tomorrow. Draft up some thoughts after dinner, an official mission report. I know the Academy has taught you how to do that.”
“They didn’t actually,” Shikamaru argues, mind whirring with slight panic at the thought of doing work.
“You’ll have to tell the Academy he won’t be coming in, Shikaku,” his mother intones, completely ignoring Shikamaru.
“I said I don’t want to–”
“Eh, how troublesome. I’ll have to find that good ink for the report after dinner, I don’t want to have to deal with those teachers first thing in the morning on top of all this,” his father complains, also ignoring Shikamaru.
“Shikamaru’s a good kid, I’m sure they won’t have any arguments. Send Ichin to let them know if you have to,” his mother continues, waving her hand and turning back towards the house.
“They still didn’t teach me how to write reports,” Shikamaru says loudly, enough that his parents finally look at him with matching puzzled expressions.
“They didn’t? When I was your age, I could write them with my eyes closed,” his father questions, sounding miffed.
His mother leans over and pats her husband on the head, a bit like a dog. “You were a prodigy, dear. The later years learnt when they become genin or bookkeepers.”
“Just what are they teaching you kids these days?” his father says as he gently swipes his wife’s hands off him and levels Shikamaru with an even more confused look.
His mother laughs loudly and Shikamaru flops back onto the grass with a quiet sigh.
“I wish they had taught me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Dad,” Shikamaru grits out the next day, standing beside his father and clenching the report he had written up last night so hard it’s crumpling, “why are we at the Hokage’s office?”
His father makes a non-commital humming sound. “Because this is where I work.”
“No,” Shikamaru says very slowly, “you work down the hallway, with some of the other jōnin and council members. You have your own office. It even has your name on a plaque. This is the door to the Hokage’s office.”
His father pats him on the back encouragingly. “Too late now, I already requested access. You’ll just have to give your report to the Hokage.”
Shikamaru sends a panicked glare in his fathers direction. “You’re kidding.”
The door cracks open as if to prove Shikamaru wrong. He sends a prayer to whatever higher power he can think of instantly.
Of course, that changes nothing, and then he’s being bullied into the Hokage’s office by his father for some lame proposal he had written up in twenty minutes and a dream.
The first thing Shikamaru does when he enters is scan the room, despite the referential bow his father is beginning to pull himself into. The Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, is sitting behind his chair, positively drowning in his robes and various wrinkles. He looks older than Shikamaru had thought, really. He’s only ever seen him from afar at various parades, or one memorable time, at the Academy to talk with Naruto after an incident. There’s a large wall of windows behind him, with the morning light struggling to make its way through the panels (a security risk, in Shikamaru’s opinion), and a set of bookshelves to his right.
Once Shikamaru’s eyes catch on the bookshelves, it’s only a matter of time until he makes eye contact with a figure standing in front of them, as if they had just been perusing the shelf.
A singular cold dark eye meets Shikamaru’s own, and Shikamaru has to fight the urge to flinch at the iciness in the gaze. The formal robes the man is wearing sit stiffly at his shoulders, making him appear broader than he probably is at his age, and the bandage wrapped around his face is certainly a fashion choice.
Or maybe not, Shikamaru supposes. Very few actively choose to wear bandages, not even most shinobi. It’s a sign of weakness most can’t afford to give.
“Shikamaru,” his father whispers from beside him, just slightly louder than a breath of air.
Instantly, Shikamaru snaps his gaze away from the strange man and the uncomfortable feeling he had begun to feel growing in his chest. He bows in greeting beside his father, just a tad lower than he was taught in apology.
“Shikaku,” the Hokage eventually replies, the words serving as a greeting enough for both Shikamaru and his father to stand up straight again. “You brought your son today as well. It’s been many years since I last saw him.”
Shikamaru decidedly doesn’t make eye contact with the old man, instead choosing to stare over his shoulder somewhere in the distance. The overly familiar tone is slightly condescending.
“I have, Hokage-sama. There was a project at the Academy, and Shikamaru’s paper won the attention of his teachers and myself. His prize is being able to show it to you,” his father lies as easily as breathing.
Knowing he can’t exactly send his father an incredulous glare for bullshitting so obviously, Shikamaru instead chooses to clench the report in his hands tighter. The paper crinkles loudly.
In turn, the Hokage gives a genial laugh and gently taps his desk. “Shikamaru, that’s right. The last time I heard any news of you, you were keeping your father awake all night while your mother recovered after birth. When he came to work with his sandals on backwards, I had to tell him to go home and rest.”
His father sighs quietly. “Perhaps my greatest shame was my sloppy appearance in front of you that day.”
At this, Shikamaru does send his father the incredulous look he held back before. Another lie. Nara Shikaku’s greatest shame is probably when he ended up trying to propose to Shikamaru’s aunt instead of his mother, back before his parents were married. Truly, he can’t imagine a world where his mother is his aunt, considering the woman is about as bright as a log.
Mentally, he sends an apology to his aunt. He’s just nervous, is all.
“I don’t think young Shikamaru quite agrees,” the Hokage says with another one of those overly-familiar laughs. “But enough of the past. I’m quite excited to see what this fuss is about.”
He pats his desk, gesturing for Shikamaru to come forward with his free hand.
Hesitantly, Shikamaru does exactly that, and places the paper in front of the Hokage (mentally shaking himself around by the throat over it in the meantime). The man smiles in a very grandpa-like way, before picking up the paper and beginning to read. Shikamaru all but scuttles back to his fathers side.
The man who was by the bookshelf makes his way over to stand by the Hokage’s side and read over his shoulder. There’s an air of fragility about him now that Shikamaru is taking a second look. It seems at odds with the initially frosty reception Shikamaru had received. Rehearsed, or maybe an act?
The Hokage hums noncommittal after a moment, snapping Shikamaru out of his increasingly spiralling thoughts.
“An interesting concept,” he begins.
Shikamaru’s stomach drops. Abruptly, he knows exactly where this is going to go. All signs point towards–
“–But I’m afraid I can’t see much point in such changes,” the Hokage finishes casually.
Shikamaru holds back his sigh, and instead chooses to finally make eye contact with the old man. There’s not a hint of interest in that gaze. It’s filled with carefully crafted politeness and…
He bristles a little, unable to help it.
The Hokage is pitying him. It’s right there, written in ink across those dark pupils.
“I can see the merit to some of your points, young Shikamaru,” he continues, without any thought to Shikamaru’s reaction. “The one about cell organisation is interesting, but is that not why we have our ANBU forces for things like reconnaissance? You should be proud of making it this far, at the very least. Your classmates and teachers are no doubt proud of your thinking.”
Shikamaru battles with himself for a long, long moment. His father is useless beside him. He beats down the humiliated feeling crawling up his neck with clumsiness, never having felt like this before.
“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” he says quietly, bowing his head in thanks so he doesn’t have to look at the man anymore. “I’m grateful to have been given this opportunity.”
The Hokage gives a gentle chuckle, unaware of the blow it gives to Shikamaru’s pride. “You’re still young, there is much to learn. Keep at it, and you’ll make a fine shinobi one day. You’ve got big shoes to fill.”
“He’s nothing if not resilient, my Shikamaru,” his father finally decides to chime in, slapping a hand on the back of Shikamaru’s neck. Instead of feeling heavy, Shikamaru feels all the tension stored there loosen up instantly.
“I’m sure,” the Hokage replies.
His father gives some type of goodbye, using the hand on Shikamaru’s neck to push him to bow in sync, before steering them both out of the office. The door shuts behind them with a resounding click.
Shikamaru barely hears it over the ringing in his ears. He doesn’t lift his head.
“Shikamaru…” his father begins, but hesitates. He probably doesn’t want to say anything inside the building, knowing most people present are high-level shinobi that could instantly pick up on what he’d say.
Mind whirring faster than it’s probably ever done before, Shikamaru gently slides his father’s hand off him. Then, without a word, he turns and begins the long walk to the Nara compound on the other side of Konoha. His father shadows him silently.
There’s an uncomfortable atmosphere between them as Shikamaru walks directly into the compound without even breathing in his fathers direction. He slides open the front door, takes off his sandals and places them neatly next to his mothers, and then slips into his bedroom.
He can hear his fathers heavy footsteps walking down the corridor to where his mother is probably in the living room, fiddling with her wood carvings. The space between the rooms will minimise any chances he has of hearing the ensuing conversation, so Shikamaru pays it no mind, and instead sits himself on his bed silently.
He props his elbows on his knees, and rests his chin on his clasped hands, lost in thought.
Let it be said that Shikamaru is lazy beyond most people’s comprehension.
Active shinobi can’t fathom his family’s lackadaisical attitude towards most things, his classmates never paid much attention to him because of his distinct lack of interest in entertaining them, and the civilian districts of Konoha have always held themselves away from the Nara’s due to their blatant disregard for the exhausting social customs they preach. Shikamaru has been napping in the sun to skip out on tasks before he even knew how to crawl properly because he was practically born with laziness embedded into his gene pool.
But he has never been without pride.
He can live without trying to impress everyone around him, because he doesn’t care enough to try. That goes for the majority of his clansmen. With great intelligence comes an innate boredom with most things regarding humans.
That being said, intelligence is intimately entwined with pride. Shikamaru cannot even comprehend someone else pitying him for his ideas. No one has ever felt sorry for him for something he’s come up with, never given him a pat on the back and a trophy just for participation.
Shikamaru excels, but only ever on his terms. For someone to try and shake the playing field up by doing the exact opposite of being pleasantly surprised by his competency…
Unthinkable.
The thing is, from an outsider's perspective, he can understand why his report got the reception it did. Old Lord Third isn’t just wrinkly for show. He’s old-fashioned, stuck in his ways. Amiable to the masses, but a pushover where it really counts. Or maybe not a pushover. Maybe he’s just lazy, like Shikamaru.
The thought makes him shudder, so he buries it.
“Shikamaru, did you want an early lunch?” his mother calls from outside his door. Her voice reveals absolutely nothing about what his father has no doubt told her.
In the split-second between his mother finishing her sentence and the words registering in his brain, Shikamaru’s mind filters through a million different plans and responses. One response for each path things could go down, one phrase, one breath, one pause.
Just one change will alter the outcome of the rest of his life, he thinks, regardless of how overdramatic and pubescent the thought sounds.
To go down the easy path, or do something insanely troublesome? He makes up his mind.
“Can I eat in the library?” he asks, voice somehow strong despite the brittle feeling lurking beneath his skin.
There’s a long pause from his mother.
“Sure,” she eventually replies.
Shikamaru swallows, closing his eyes to give himself one last moment of peace before he starts planning to do something way past his paygrade. How troublesome.
The next day finds Shikamaru out front of the Academy bright and early (read; ten minutes after the first morning class began), with his usually long-abandoned book bag clutched in one hand and the other wrapped around the sweets his father had shoved in his hand as some kind of apology for yesterday's disaster with the Hokage.
“Shikamaru!” a loud voice yells from behind him, and Shikamaru has about point-five seconds to dodge before Naruto will most likely barrel into him.
Unfortunately, he didn’t sleep last night, meaning he’s extra lazy. So when Naruto launches himself at his back, Shikamaru doesn’t dodge, and instead ragdolls.
“Argh!” Naruto screeches, having to perform a truly impressive looking flip to avoid crushing Shikamaru’s limp body under him.
He lands on his feet, shoulders hunched up around his ears like a frightened kitten. The image makes Shikamaru smile despite the ache behind his eyes. Naruo whips his gaze from Shikamaru, slumped on the dirt, and his own position standing now in front of him with incredulity.
“What the hell, I almost ran you over!” Naruto yells again, cheeks looking a little ruddy from all this yelling. It’s not even lunchtime. Shikamaru envies his energy.
“You did run me over,” he eventually corrects, pulling himself up to sit on his ass, trying to appear a little more dignified. “Why do you think I’m on the ground?”
“You usually dodge!”
“Your taijutsu must be improving or something then,” Shikamaru lies, rolling his eyes.
Naruto makes a pleased humming sound and stretches a hand out to help haul Shikamaru to his feet.
“I’ve been practicing out in the woods near your place after-school!” he explains, smiling practically ear to ear. “It’s peaceful out there, ‘ya know! I can see why you end up napping out there all the time.”
Shikamaru squints at the sudden onslaught of sunshine in his eyes. Ouch, Naruto, tone down the happiness.
“Watch out for the deer and stuff. They bite,” Shikamaru sighs. Then, he hands over half of his sweets to the other boy.
Naruto looks at the offered candy and then back at Shikamaru with delight and confusion warring on his face. It makes his cheek whiskers wrinkle all funny.
“For me?” he asks, hand already halfway to accepting them.
“My dad gave them to me, but I don’t really like sweet things,” Shikamaru replies casually.
“Shouldn’t you give them all to me then?” Naruto tries to cajole sweetly, batting his eyelashes and hugging the offered candies to his chest happily.
“As if. Chōji also likes sweets.”
“Pah, I thought we were friends!”
Shikamaru finally manages to gather the energy to laugh. He shoves Naruto very gently with his shoulder and rolls his eyes at the puppy-dog look on the other kid's face.
“We are friends. I just want to share with others as well,” he settles for saying. “But you better put those away for now. We’re already late.”
At the reminder that he was probably barrelling into the Academy because he once again slept through his alarm (Shikamaru being collateral damage to the whole ordeal), Naruto shrieks loudly and grabs onto Shikamaru’s arm. Using his free hand, he picks up Shikamaru’s book bag that was laying dejectedly on the ground and begins to drag them towards through the front gate of the Academy.
“We’re so late! Iruka-sensei is going to kill us!” he yells, still carrying Shikamaru’s bag and tugging him through the entrance to the school. “Also, why the hell is your bag so heavy? Are you lugging around half the library in this thing?”
Shikamaru once again lets Naruto do whatever he wants, partly because it would be stupid to try and stop Naruto once he puts his mind to something and partly because he can feel his heartbeat in his knees and he isn’t sure sleep deprivation is his thing.
He helpfully doesn’t mention his bag is that heavy because it actually is filled with books.
Naruto might have a heart attack if he finds out Shikamaru’s been studying in his free time. Willingly, too. At least the books aren’t anything as mundane as the stuff they teach them in the Academy. The Nara library works are encoded to hell and back and are filled with treasure troves of information from previous Nara’s who weren’t too lazy to write down their genius. It was entertaining enough that he didn’t sleep a wink last night.
“You’re probably fine, but he might kill me. I ditched school yesterday,” Shikamaru supplies as Naruto drags him down hallway after hallway, ignoring the wide-eyed stares they receive from younger years already in class.
“Oh yeah, your dad sent some deer to the school or something to explain it all. It tried to eat Iruka-sensei’s pants.”
Shikamaru sighs. “That sounds like Ichin alright.”
Finally, Naruto dumps them out front of their classroom door. It’s still loud inside, but Shikamaru can hear Iruka-sensei trying to call for order. Unfortunately, teaching a class full of pre-pubescent clan kids is like trying to govern a lawless land. Their little brains can’t comprehend the words ‘quiet’ or ‘learning’.
Naruto makes a dejected noise as he stares at the door. Probably upset at the thought of upsetting their sensei.
“C’mon Naruto, we’re already late. It can’t get worse than that,” he tries to comfort, but he’s not really used to doing things like that. He’s an only child, and didn’t really hang around with kids that weren’t Ino or Chōji growing up so he doesn’t get how to cajole younger kids.
Naruto turns his blue eyes Shikamaru’s way, something slightly scared in them. “You’ll walk in with me, right?”
Shikamaru holds back his sigh in the face of vulnerability. What a drag.
“I’ll even sit next to you. But you gotta promise not to yell in my ear. I’m on a studying kick,” he agrees tiredly, before pulling open the door and walking in with his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
“Studying what–”
“Sorry we’re late, sensei,” Shikamaru interrupts, probably sounding like he isn’t very sorry at all. “Naruto was helping me find my bag.”
Naruto shoots him a disbelieving look which should have clued Iruka-sensei into the lie, but the man is as oblivious as ever when it comes to Naruto.
Their teacher gives them an understanding but firm smile. “Come sit down then. If you’re late again this week, it’ll be detention.”
Naruto squawks. “You’ve never given anyone detention though!”
Shikamaru groans and steers the loudmouth to a desk in the middle of the rows, left empty for them. “Don’t make us the first then. What a drag.”
Naruto grumbles a little as he’s dragged to his chair, but sits obediently when Shikamaru shakes him a little by the scruff like a kitten. As the other boy pulls out a piece of crumpled paper from his pocket alongside a pencil, Shikamaru slumps forward in his own stiff seat. He wishes he were at home, or napping in the Nara forests. Even dealing with his mother’s nagging would be more ideal than sitting in this classroom full of childish almost-teenagers.
Iruka-sensei finally begins to teach the class again, droning on about something or other that most kids from big clans would have learnt years ago. Instead of tuning in, he hauls his book bag onto his lap and debates whether or not it would be too obvious to start reading in class.
He was planning on slipping away during the lunch hour to continue reading, halfway through decoding his great-grandfather's diary, but if the opportunity is presented to him in class, who is he to say no?
“Psst,” a voice hisses behind him.
Shikamaru holds back another sigh. All this sighing can’t be good for him actually, he might strain the muscle in his neck dedicated to stress-related sighs.
“Yeah?” he says as he swivels around to see Chōji sitting on the desk behind him, Ino crammed in next to him, clearly having moved herself there when she had seen Shikamaru come in late.
“You were late today, what’s up with that?” she whisper-hisses at him, blue eyes staring unnervingly at him. Beside her, Chōji munches quietly on a protein bar he must have had in his pocket judging by the wrinkled wrapper.
How troublesome. In the decade they’ve been friends (mostly just pushed together for clan connections sake), Shikamaru has learnt some things about them both. Number one, never lie to Chōji about the availability of snacks, because he most likely will try to eat you next. And number two? Don’t show weakness in front of Ino. When she sniffs a story, she’s like a wolf drawn to blood. Relentless in her pursuit, until she’s figured out everything.
“Nosey,” he shoots back with a dejected tone. “Like I said, Naruto and I ran into each other on the way in and he helped me find my bag.”
Ino raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “The very same bag your mother gave you four years ago has remained in your cupboard since? The one that is now apparently filled to the brim with books and fished out of whatever dusty hellhole you dumped it in originally? Just what are you hiding, Shikamaru?”
Yeesh. He mentally applauds himself for managing to keep away her nosiness for exactly one day, which is a feat worthy of a medal.
“Maybe he’s starting to take class seriously,” Chōji finally chimes in, face expressionless as he takes another bite out his bar.
There’s a moment silence from them all.
Then, Ino starts giggling loudly, the sound high-pitched and grating. Shikamaru winces at the sound as it increases in volume, and even Chōji cracks a smile at his own joke.
“Quiet please!” Iruka-sensei calls from the front of the classroom, quickly shutting them both up.
Ino’s face quickly turns red and she slumps down a little so she’s slightly hiding behind Chōji’s larger frame. After the teacher begins his lecture again, Ino leans her head around Chōji again to stare suspiciously at Shikamaru.
“Something’s different about you today. Does this have something to do with why you didn’t show up yesterday?”
“Nope,” Shikamaru says, popping the ‘p’ and turning away from the busy bodies behind him as he does. “Now pay attention to Iruka-sensei’s lecture. You don’t want to fail another quiz, right Ino?”
Ino hisses at him like a feral cat. “Low blow, jerk.”
“Meaner than usual,” Chōji agrees with Ino.
Shikamaru digs through his pockets to dump the candies his dad gave him on Chōji’s desk without looking back. “A bribe for your silence.”
Chōji snatches them up instantly. “Your wish is my command.”
“You’re such a suck-up,” Ino scolds.
With a flick of her ponytail and one last suspicious and pissy huff, she slips back into her own chair, two rows behind him and diagonal. Shikamaru can practically feel the holes she’s burning on the back of his head, but he chooses to ignore it, instead pulling out the diary he had been fiddling with last night to continue to try and get through it.
He’s still reading that book during lunch, but he’s made significant progress due to the restrained atmosphere of having no one around him.
The diary, which had originally appeared unassuming, was not only in code to restrict outside view but also written in a type of long-form poetry. It’s a far cry from the usual scrolls he’s seen in the Nara compound, which usually follow more methodical approaches to writing down strategies. This diary however is more story inclined. Shikamaru is constantly having to cross-reference with a historical art book from the Nara library to try and decipher what his great-grandfather was actually writing about. He’s not exactly sure if the dirty chopsticks are a metaphor for child-eating or child-rearing. Something about inner strength of some variety, but it’s still puzzling him.
It continues to tickle his brain as he sits underneath a tree in the yard, mostly hidden away from view. It’s not his usual sitting spot at lunch, considering he likes to cloud-gaze with Chōji and sometimes Shino in the more open fields on the other side of the yard, but he finds himself wanting some peace and quiet today as he nurses a tension headache and a very heavy bag of books worth thousands.
Of course, it’s only because he wants solitude that he finds himself crowded by Naruto, Chōji, Shino, and even Kiba not even ten minutes into lunch.
“Shikamaru! Why are you sitting here all alone with books? Class is over!” Naruto greets enthusiastically, flouncing all over the place and trying to catch a glance at what Shikamaru is reading.
Chōji sits down silently beside Shikamaru and pulls out a large sandwich. Shikamaru’s stomach growls but he knows better than to ask his friend for a bite. It would be a suicide mission. Shino settles down nearby, and Kiba, cuddling Akamaru who is whining quietly from being jostled about by the boy, plops down beside him.
“We still have to go back inside after lunch, idiot,” Kiba snorts, placing Akamaru down on the grass on his back so he can make a face at Naruto.
Naruto of course returns the favour. “Duh. I meant why is he wasting his break doing more studying. What we’re learning isn’t that interesting.”
“Were you even paying attention?” Kiba shoots back
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Knowing Chōji won’t speak up unless necessary and Shino is too shy to say something in front of such a large group, Shikamaru raises his book and waves it between the two to disrupt the tension.
“Shut it, both of you,” he says, voice sounding noticeably hoarser after not having spoken for a few hours. “I’m reading something else, because I want to.”
Naruto sends Shikamaru a panicked look. “…Are you sick or something?”
“No,” he answers.
Kiba makes a disbelieving noise, staring wide-eyed at Shikamaru. “He is looking kinda pale. Like a ghost or something.”
Naruto’s jaw drops. “Do we gotta take him to the hospital? Oi, Shikamaru, you can’t die yet! We haven’t become kick-ass shinobi together yet!”
“I’m not dying. I just want to do something more interesting than schoolwork. Is that a crime?” Shikamaru explains like he’s talking to a toddler.
Kiba has the wits to look miffed at the underlying condescension, but vitriol always rolls off Naruto’s back like water on a duck. He reaches a grubby hand to press against Shikamaru’s forehead, as if trying to tell if he’s got a fever or something.
“I should’ve known something was wrong when you offered me candy this morning,” he mutters almost to himself.
“Naruto…” Shikamaru sighs in response. The kid is too nice for his own good. One would think with all the cruelty he’s faced from all the adults around, that he’d learn to close himself off. Yet here he is, checking if Shikamaru has a temperature despite really only having spoken to each other the barest amount.
“Should we call your mum or something?” Naruto asks, making a frowning face at Shikamaru.
“No,” Chōji mumbles, horrified
“Absolutely not,” Shikamaru says at the exact same time.
Naruto laughs a little. “Whatever you say. But you promise you aren’t gonna die on me?”
“I’ll try my best,” Shikamaru reassures the loudmouth and then gestures back down to his book. “Can I keep reading my book now that we’ve got that out of the way?”
“I dunno,” Kiba chimes in (previously forgotten about). “It’s kinda boring…”
Sending him a half-hearted glare to shut him up, Shikamaru picks his book back up anyway. “Tell me when lunch is over.”
He doesn’t wait for any nods of assent before instantly losing himself to his book, easily ignoring the loud wrestling of Naruto and Kiba from beside him.
The next month is much of the same.
Shikamaru wakes up from the barest amounts of sleep as he can get away with, trudges to the Academy and sits next to Naruto while he valiantly attempts to study the entirety of the Nara compound’s library. Then, he’ll eat whatever he managed to snag on his way out of the door during lunch, usually with Naruto beside him (sometimes Chōji, sometimes Kiba and Shino), and continue to study. When class is finished for the day, Shikamaru packs up his things and heads home to the Nara forests with his head buried in some type of scroll or other, oblivious to the shocked gazes sent his way. There, he’ll continue to study until his mother calls him in for dinner.
Dinner has probably been the most awkward part of his days. He sits at the table, usually so full of life, and can’t seem to think of anything except getting back to his books. Dinner is now a silent affair.
Shikamaru’s smart enough to know when he’s being stupid and unhealthy. Unfortunately he can’t seem to stop.
He’s become obsessed with learning all of these things. Of studying long-forgotten knowledge left by ancestors and tying it together with other pieces of long-forgotten knowledge left by even older ancestors. He has a report to give to the Hokage brewing in the back of his mind, occupying every single thought while he stumbles through his final Academy days before graduation, and even haunting his dreams at night.
Shikamaru can’t escape the all-consuming desire to do something drastic, something intelligent, something that will show the Hokage that he isn’t some little kid who upjumped his station. He’s going to be the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Konoha, he swears.
It’s on a lunch break like any other, except without Chōji (who has been spending more and more time shadowing Ino instead) and the Shino-Kiba pair, that someone finally manages to break through Shikamaru’s insane schedule.
“Hey, Shikamaru?”
Shikamaru only manages to pull himself away from the old sealing scroll manual he was reading because it’s Naruto, who is kinda sensitive beneath his brash exterior, and because the words are said with a kind of vulnerability that sets off alarm bells in his mind.
He turns to face the loudmouth, who is sitting on the swing dejectedly across from him, while Shikamaru sits under the shade of the tree it’s tied to.
“Yeah?” he prompts when Naruto doesn’t say anything else.
Naruto continues to swing, sitting all weirdly on it and not looking at Shikamaru at all.
“Do you think I’ll finally pass this time?” he asks, that vulnerability Shikamaru was afraid of seeping out of every pore. “I’m kinda sick of being looked down on.”
He fights the urge to wince. Comforting others is not his forte.
“…Do you have better chakra control than you did last time you tried the test at least?” he settles for.
Naruto shakes his head. “Can’t tell.”
Now Shikamaru does wince. “Then I’m not sure.”
His gaze settles back onto the scroll he was reading. It’s a recount of a Nara’s time in Uzishio, being taught seals by the Uzumaki’s. Naruto is an Uzumaki, but he’s never shown an ounce of talent towards sealing or anything to do with chakra control.
Shikamaru narrows his eyes, now lost in thought.
Earlier recounts of the Uzumaki’s spoke of red-haired beings that were chakra monsters. Of course, they had the matching control necessary to do such intricate seal work, but their battle prowess was unmatched in pure chakra stores. Fiery red hair was a symbol of their clan as much as the whirlpool or the massive blazes of chakra they’d leak onto the field.
If Naruto is an Uzumaki, does it not stand to reason that he also has insane chakra stores? Just without the control his ancestors had…
“You might have too much chakra, Naruto,” he eventually mumbles to the sad-looking blond in front of him.
Naruto instantly perks up, but Shikamaru is now too busy flipping through the pile of books in his bag. “You think?”
Shikamaru shoots upwards. Naruto stumbles back from where he had leaned in excitedly, clearly caught off guard. Then, he cuts off any attempt for Naruto to voice his surprise by hauling his book bag onto his shoulder with one hand and using his other to grab Naruto’s hand and drag him right out of the Academy grounds.
“What the hell Shikamaru!” Naruto shrieks as Shikamaru pulls him through the streets. “We still have classes to go!”
His head whips back to the Academy and then to Shikamaru.
“I think I just figured out a way to help you pass!” Shikamaru shouts back, mind buzzing faster than it's ever gone before. He feels almost euphoric as he whisks them through the civilian districts straight towards the Nara compound.
Thankfully, Naruto shuts up as Shikamaru gives the Nara guards at the front gate a tight nod and then spirits them into the library inside the main house. Without even bothering to take off his shoes, Shikamaru slams the sliding door to the library shut and then dumps himself at the table he’s been using for research without second thought to begin flipping through books.
“Um, Shikamaru?” Naruto asks, looking very much out of place as he stands in the dusty and dark Nara library.
Shikamaru absently notes that this is the first time he’s taken someone that isn’t Ino or Chōji into his house. In fact, Naruto has probably never been into a compound for a big clan, let alone one as sprawling as the Nara one.
He takes pride in his clan compound, remembering the tightly packed and overly complicated layout of the old Uchiha compound (before it was abandoned). The Yamanaka clan is actually built somewhat stacked on top of each other like ants, and the Akimichi one’s buildings are all communal and too tall, all uncomfortable to him. But the Nara compound, being built on the very edges of Konoha, is perfect. Its buildings are all spaced out to give privacy to every member of the clan, with grassy plains and forests filled with small clearings and lakes sprawled everywhere. Every house is built traditionally with darker wood and clean cream walls, and the main house where Shikamaru and his family resides is no exception.
Shikamaru waves a hand to Naruto to cajole him over to his side. Obediently (and seeming slightly uncomfortable), Naruto does exactly that.
“See this?” Shikamaru begins, pointing to the genealogy book he read last week.
Naruto leans over to squint at it. “Yeah?”
“This book has the clan attributes of every Konohan clan since its founding, alongside many of its external allies. Like the Uzumaki clan from Uzishio,” he continues, emphasising the last half of his sentence pointedly.
Naruto’s eyes widen and his head whips towards Shikamaru. “Me? I have a clan?”
Almost exactly after uttering the words, Naruto’s whole face lights up and lunges towards the book, picking it up and desperately tracing the words inked on it.
Shikamaru shakes his head a little sadly, not wanting to ruin his hopes but knowing what the next page details.
“You did have one,” he says as gently as he can manage. “They were unfortunately wiped out about thirty years ago. The survivors settled here in Konoha.”
Naruto’s whole body sags. “Oh.”
Shikamaru scrunched up his face in sympathy and pats the other boy on the shoulder once in comfort. “But we still have a lot written down about them. I have a bunch of notes I can give you to study instead. They might not be around anymore, but you can still make them proud.”
Naruto’s lip wobbles dangerously, sending Shikamaru into fight-or-flight mode, before he seems to gather up his strength and nod determinedly.
“Yeah! I have a clan, and I can still be a kickass shinobi just like they were!”
Shikamaru smiles, eased. “That’s the spirit. But that’s not why I dragged you here.”
He shuffles through his notes until he pulls out a page dedicated to firsthand accounts of wartime strategies. He had originally written it down in mind for eventual genin team placements, but right now, all he can think of is the Nara entry about witnessing the strength of an Uzumaki on the field.
“The Uzumaki’s were known for like two things,” he starts, lifting a hand to count down two fingers. “Their seals, which required incredible chakra control, and their subsequent massive stores of chakra. They were like monsters on the battlefield according to my ancestors.”
“Awesome,” Naruto whispers, awed.
“Yeah, except I think that’s why you can’t manage to pass the final test for the Academy.”
Naruto’s gaze turns puzzled. “Whaddaya mean?”
“I mean that since you’re an Uzumaki, you have an insane amount of chakra. Most jutsu, including illusions, require good chakra control to make it work the way it’s supposed to.”
“But since I have too much of it…” Naruto trails off.
“You can’t make the technique like I can,” Shikamaru finishes.
Naruto’s blue eyes stare into Shikamaru’s own very intently. “So does this mean I can never do it?”
Shikamaru bites his lip to think, shaking his head.
“I don’t believe that. You just need something different. Maybe we have to exhaust your chakra right before the test and then leave you the barest amounts to complete it with?” he suggests, mind turning over all the different possibilities. “My clan doesn’t have big chakra stores so we don’t have any techniques for something like this.”
“Even if you did, you can’t share them anyway…” Naruto says with a sigh.
Then, he jolts forward and his face grows panicked. Shikamaru steps backwards, surprised.
“What?”
“The final exam is tomorrow! How the hell am I supposed to figure this out by then?!” he yells, eyes bulging out of his skull.
Shikamaru winces and slaps a hand over Naruto’s big mouth. “Shut up! You’ll wake my mother!”
“Your mum’s home?” Naruto muffledly asks, confused.
“She works at night so she’s home during the day to sleep,” Shikamaru explains, eyes jumping to the door with fear. If his mother wakes up… they’re both dead.
“Eurgh,” Naruto says in agreement of some variety, and very slowly, Shikamaru releases him. “So what do I do? I’ve never once felt that chakra exhaustion thing other people complain about. Even if I don’t sleep I don’t get tired!”
Shikamaru shoots him an envious glare. Rub it in, jerk.
“I don’t know… Maybe we can find something that will split up your chakra stores? Maybe multiple clones? But you can’t use it on external people, so maybe on…” Shikamaru mutters to himself, and then whirls back to his table to begin digging through his notes.
“Uh, Shikamaru,” Naruto says hesitatingly.
Shikamaru doesn’t look up from where he’s muttering to himself and sorting through various piles of paper. He probably should put all this in a book or something but he’s found loose leaf in a binding book works better for his constantly shifting note organisation.
“Shikamaru!” Naruto shouts.
Flinching, Shikamaru whirls around with another warning on the tip of his tongue. Then, he freezes.
At the doorway to the library, hands on her hips and sleep-deprived glint in her eyes is his mother. She’s still in her pajamas, but she must’ve had a coat nearby that she uses to swaddle herself with to spare embarrassment.
“Shit,” Shikamaru says with feeling.
“Shikamaru, sweetheart,” his mother begins, voice high-pitched and saccharine. “Care to explain why I’ve only just gotten to sleep from a long shift when two little Academy students have come to shout down my house when they should be in class?”
Naruto gulps loudly. Shikamaru feels the sentiment.
“Sorry mu–”
“Get going! The both of you!” she interrupts, and with a pillow magically procured to be in her hand, herds them out of the house with a manic grin on her face.
Once both he and Naruto have been sufficiently scolded on their way out, Shikamaru sits down with a heavy sigh on the patio while Naruto stares faintly at the closed front door.
“I’ve never been chased out of a house with a pillow before,” he says, slightly miffed.
“My mother takes her sleep very seriously.”
“Clearly,” Naruto agrees before sitting himself down beside Shikamaru. “So what now?”
“We go back to class I guess? Maybe I can get Ichin to distract Iruka-sensei while we sneak in,” Shikamaru suggests.
“I meant about the chakra thing.”
“Right,” Shikamaru clears his throat. “Not much, I don’t think. Maybe if you explain it to Iruka-sensei, he might have another technique to help.”
Naruto puts his hands on his chin and hums as if he’s deep in thought. Shikamaru does the same, except he’s sure that he actually is deep in thought, as opposed to Naruto who’s probably just thinking about ramen.
“Whatever happens, happens,” Naruto says with determination.
Shikamaru sends the blond a small smile. “That’s the spirit. Just don’t drag me into anything too crazy. It’ll be a drag.”
Naruto laughs loudly at that, the sound startling a nearby bird out of a tree. “Don’t hold your breath, Shikamaru.”
He sighs, a little defeated. “I know.”
Shikamaru spends the night digging through anything in the library that could possibly help Naruto out.
It’s only slightly out of the goodness of his own heart that he’s trying so hard. Mostly, it’s because he wants to prove that he can do something, that all this hard work he’s putting in isn’t for nothing. If he can find a way to make even the dead-last Naruto pass the final exam for the Academy, he can probably do anything. It’ll be concrete evidence that Shikamaru’s plans are something that should never be looked down on.
Except, because he’s so focused on trying to figure out a way to help fix the whole ordeal, he almost misses it in the first place.
He falls asleep sometime early in the morning, an old Hyūga chakra blocking technique on the top of his notes that he might be able to convince one of them to perform on Naruto before the test. It was the result of a lot of hard work, and before he knew it, he had already passed out on top of the only thing that might help Naruto pass that damn test.
It’s afternoon when he wakes up, feeling the sun shine through the shuttered library window and onto his face. A cold sweat instantly takes over his body, and ignoring the stiffness in his neck and limbs, he snatches up the technique and hauls ass all the way to the Academy, still in yesterday’s clothes.
By the time he gets there, the majority of the class, including Naruto, have already finished their test. Judging by the devastated look on the usually bright blond’s face, he didn’t do very well.
Iruka-sensei looks at his watch with a disapproving look when Shikamaru bursts into the classroom, but kindly lets him take the test anyway. Shikamaru absently performs his own (flawless) clone technique, gaining his passing grade, and by the time he’s done, Naruto has long fled the scene.
Shit.
“Hey,” Shikamaru says as he slides up to Chōji, “did you see where Naruto went?”
Chōji, grinning quietly to himself and standing beside a boastful Ino, gives him a strange look.
“No,” he answers dutifully despite the expression he’s making. “I heard he failed though.”
Shikamaru sighs and feels himself beginning to get a bit antsy. “I know. I was supposed to give him a technique but I overslept.”
Then, he goes to Iruka-sensei to earnestly plead his case.
“Sensei,” he begins, feeling a bit out of place having not really spoken to the man one-on-one since he had begun at the Academy.
In turn, Iruka spins around from where he had been organising paperwork on the desk in the classroom with a happy smile. His gaze gets a bit confused as he focuses on Shikamaru, definitely knowing it’s out of character for either one of them to approach first. Considering his grades have always been perfectly average on purpose, and the teacher honestly couldn't have anything to teach him that he doesn’t already know, they haven’t exactly had any reason to interact the past six years.
“Shikamaru! You did exceptionally well today, congratulations on making it to genin! What can I help you with?” the man says, his warm eyes regarding Shikamaru with a fondness he has for most of his students. He guesses that being in Iruka-sensei’s care for six years should probably inspire some fondness between them.
Pressing the advantage he probably has because of this, Shikamaru shuffles his feet a bit. “It’s about Naruto.”
Iruka’s smile instantly dims a little bit. He straightens up and stares at Shikamaru with a bit more of a weary glance.
“Is something wrong?”
Shikamaru hides his sigh. How troublesome this is going to be.
“…Not with me, but with him,” he says, plastering on the helpless kind of look that he’s seen other kids use to get what they want from Iruka-sensei. “See, we were doing some research last night and we think that Naruto struggles with the clone jutsu because of his chakra and stuff. I found a technique that might help with him being able to pass the test but by the time I got here today he was already gone…”
He trails off but sneaks a look at his teacher. Iruka looks a bit taken aback, but his surprise quickly morphs into an apologetic and sad one.
“Even if there was, I’m afraid that if Naruto can’t get a good handle on his chakra, there’s little possibility I could let him pass anyway,” he answers Shikamaru’s unspoken question.
Shikamaru tries not to let his frustration show. “I think he might need something like this though. If we had someone with the same high chakra stores as him, they would be able to guide him, but since we don’t, there’s extenuating circumstances! I think he deserves the chance to re-do it.”
Iruka’s face drops a little. His hands unconsciously start to gather up his paper’s, no doubt reports on which students did well and which ones didn’t. Which ones would be given a jōnin sensei and which ones wouldn’t.
“There’s really nothing I can do, Shikamaru. Trust me, I wish Naruto had passed too… but just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean I can make exceptions just for him,” Iruka-sensei states quietly, his free hand coming to rest on Shikamaru’s shoulder comfortingly. “I have to file these tests away now, but if you have any questions that aren’t about Naruto, you can ask tomorrow during your orientation.”
Shikamaru watches him leave with frustration still bubbling under his skin. He tunes out the excited chattering of his classmates, and stares off into space a little as he thinks about ways he can go about this.
He knows he’s a clan kid which affords him a lot more respect than most in his class, like Haruno Sakura who comes from a civilian family, so if he wanted to cause a fuss about it, he probably could. His father is also very high up in the chain of command, so he could also potentially rely on something underhanded and overthrow Iruka-sensei’s decision to fail Naruto. It might even be an option to sneak into Iruka’s office and switch the paperwork around, though he would also have to genjutsu his own teacher which is something he’s not that confident in and would be very immoral.
There’s actually a lot of things he could do to turn this around in his and Naruto’s favour.
But none of them are on his own merit. They’re all things that rely on using his name and connections to squash those underneath him.
He also can’t imagine a world where Naruto would be happy to find out that Shikamaru had to use underhanded tactics to get him a genin placement. The other boy is too good to accept a handout like that.
He sighs and pinches his nose bridge, sneaking a look at the afternoon sun slowly waning outside the classroom. At the very least, he can find Naruto, apologise for not being there when he had promised to do so, and try to brainstorm ways to help the blond.
He’ll be damned now if he gives up. It's no longer just an issue of Shikamaru’s pride. He genuinely wants his friend to do well. He wants to see Naruto succeed, wants to help him and the rest of his class become the very best versions of themselves they can possibly be.
That dream he had just over a month ago… maybe it wasn’t just some stupid dream that’s given him more trouble than it was worth. Maybe it was a push in a direction that would give him something to really fight for.
Shikamaru makes up his mind once again, and turns to march out of the classroom resolutely, intent on finding wherever Naruto ran off to.
A few hours into his search, it proves to be a bigger challenge than he had thought it to be.
He’s searched every park in Konoha (exhausting himself by running around so much in the process), scaled the Hokage mountain to see if he was hiding in a nostril again, and even asked the various civilians from around where Naruto (maybe?) lives. All that last one had made clear to him is that the majority of adults in Konoha treated Naruto less than dirt, and in turn, were snubbed severely by Shikamaru. He’s almost more tired from lecturing old ladies than he is having run across the village all afternoon.
“Honestly, where could that loud-mouthed idiot even hide?” he mutters under his breath raggedly as he hobbles down an alleyway on his way home.
The sun is practically finished setting, the barest rays of light illuminating the thinning streets as he meanders back to the Nara compound. There’s no point looking around in the dark, and he’s sure his parents would actually want to hear from him at some point.
By the time he’s managed to make it back to the main house in the middle of the compound, the nighttime lanterns have long been lit.
“Shikamaru! Where have you been!” his mother is the one to greet him, not even a second into him opening the front door. He wasn’t even able to take off his shoes before he was accosted, only just having slipped the door closed behind him in the first place.
Trying to appear more put together than he feels, Shikamaru smiles wanly at his mother. “Hanging around. Ino and Chōji wanted to celebrate.”
She raises an eyebrow expectantly, crossing her arms. “We have news to celebrate?”
Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “Did you really think I would fail?”
Instantly, his mother’s face bursts into a bright smile. She makes a giddy sounding laugh and then throws her arms around him.
“I knew better than to doubt you! Congratulations, Shikamaru!” she says, tightening her arms around him till he can barely breathe. “My own little genin, so precious.”
Shikamaru lets her affection sweep him up, easing his worries and soothing the various pains from his harsh schedule the past month have inflicted on him. He relaxes into his mothers embrace despite his ribs croaking in protest, and sighs a little.
“Thanks, mum.”
She makes a humming noise and pats his head firmly and with affection. “Now care to tell me where you really were? Because Ino and Chōji dropped by a few hours ago looking for you, saying you ran off without them after the exam.”
Feeling his heart fall out his ass, Shikamaru tenses up in his mothers arms. Caught.
“Uh–” he starts, desperately trying to think of an excuse. She’s definitely suspicious of why he would lie in the first place, so she probably won’t believe him even if he tells the truth. She probably thinks he was up to no good.
It’s at that very second that the front door slides open and his father walks in with a worn frown marring his face. Shikamaru thanks every higher power out there even though he doesn’t believe in any of them.
“I’m home– Oh, hello,” his father says, seeming surprised at seeing them both hugging in the doorway to the house.
His mother spins Shikamaru around forcefully to face his father with a proud grin on her face. “Shikamaru has some news to share with you.”
Shikamaru sends a baleful look his mothers way. What a drag.
His father raises an eyebrow at the display but already his lips are tilting upwards, erasing the wan look on his face. “Oh?”
“I passed the final test today,” Shikamaru shares, cheeks heating up at having to share it with the family like it’s some incredible achievement and not something he could have done six years ago should he have wanted to. “I’m now a genin, I guess.”
His father beams and ruffles his hair to Shikamaru’s chagrin. “Always knew you could do it, son. Good job.”
Clearly without much thought, he takes off the hitai-ate and hands it over to Shikamaru, like this was a completely normal thing and not a massive beacon of responsibility for Shikamaru to not mess up his budding shinobi career.
Staring at it a bit stupidly, it takes Shikamaru a long time to jolt himself into action and pick it up from the outstretched hand. He pockets it with an embarrassed flush, which earns him a short laugh from his father.
His mother, having now fulfilled her duty as town crier, moves to help her husband with his coat, pulling it off his shoulders and giving his cheek a chaste kiss. Shikamaru holds back the urge to gag, knowing he’s not exactly in the clear yet for his earlier white lie.
“What’s got your forehead all wrinkled?” she murmurs as his father begins to slip off his sandals.
His father sighs a loud sigh and gives them both a tired look. “I technically shouldn’t be telling you…”
Shikamaru raises an eyebrow. “But you’re going to anyway, right?”
“It’s for the best if there’s more hands on deck anyway,” his father agrees with a nod. “Uzumaki Naruto has stolen the Scroll of Seals from the Hokage’s residence, just little over an hour ago. Old Lord Third ordered everyone to find him and bring him back…”
His father trails off once again, looking troubled, but Shikamaru barely pays attention. He’s too focused on the words having just been said to the open air of the entranceway, like it was a normal thing and not a devastating betrayal from someone Shikamaru considered a friend.
“Bring him back?” his mother questions rigidly, sound muffled under the roaring of Shikamaru’s ears.
“Dead or alive,” his father confirms. “It was more or less implied.”
Shikamaru lurches forward, and both his parents reach out their hands to steady him. He grips the hand closest to him deathly tight.
“They wanna kill him?” he demands, shock blanking his mind.
“It depends on who finds him,” his father says seriously. “It’s a grave offence. If that scroll gets into the wrong hands then it would spell disaster for Konoha.”
“But Naruto’s harmless!”
His parents share a loaded look, and Shikamaru mentally flinches at the same discomfort in their eyes as every other adult in Konoha.
He had thought they were different, simply because they were his parents and have never shown any kind of cruelty to Naruto like most have. Maybe he was too naive.
“It’s not that we think he’s going to immediately turn against Konoha, or even that he has the ability to hurt anyone anyway,” his mother placates gently, but Shikamaru takes a step away. “But we can’t afford to not take this seriously, especially if it’s under the Hokage’s orders.”
Shaking his head, Shikamaru focuses on the moment. The ringing in his ears dies down as his brain kicks in again.
“You can’t hurt him. I know Naruto. He’s good, better than most people I’ve met,” he argues, edging towards the front door.
His parents give him varying shocked looks, as if him just defending a classmate is more than they expected of him. Shikamaru bristles a little at that. Has he really been so lazy that even his own parents can’t imagine him caring about someone like Naruto?
“Are you going to help the search, then?” his father asks.
There’s seriousness to the words, similar to that afternoon a month ago when his father had practically interrogated him over that stupid dream. Two pairs of dark eyes stare down at him as if trying to catalogue every inch of him, determining his genuineness.
Shikamaru matches the look with his own determined one. He wills them desperately to trust him on this, just this once. To see that Shikamaru knows Naruto, knows he wouldn’t do something like this without a guiding hand. Naruto doesn’t have an evil bone in his little body.
“Let me prove myself,” he almost begs. “I’ll find him, I swear it.”
His parents share a look, and then his father nods.
“I can give you an hour. Can’t relinquish the dead or alive order, but I can draw most forces away from the search in that time,” he says with a heavy hand placed on Shikamaru’s shoulder. “Don’t waste the chance.”
“Do you even know where he’s gone? If the search has been going on for an hour at least, then–” his mother begins but cuts herself off, knowing she’s just stalling him.
Shikamaru rips open the front door with more force than is probably necessary and shoves himself halfway out before he turns around and gives her what he hopes is a confident smirk.
“I’ll be back,” he throws out in lieu of reassuring her, and then starts running.