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On The Cusp	By : Okami-Rayne Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Shikamaru/Neji Views: 2208 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: NARUTO and its respective characters were created and are owned by Masashi Kishimoto. No copyright infringement intended. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
ON THE CUSP

by Okami Rayne

Chapter Sixteen

"Stupid kid. You should talk to someone."

"The last time you concerned me this badly, I never got an answer."

Shikamaru heard the voices as if from far away. They ran together in a warped and overlapping audio, trying to penetrate his 'in-between' state of sleep.

"I wasn't there. For whatever reason. For whatever happened. And I'm sorry."

"You should talk to him."

Neji…

"Dreams don't feel this way, do they?"

Something wet touched his forehead.

Shikamaru startled from his doze, swatting the air above his face. He rubbed at the damp spot on his brow, gazing through heavy lids to find that the late afternoon sky had shredded into sunset. Clouds spread their gauzy wisps in streams, their edges stained pink and red. They looked like bloody cloth.

Shikamaru breathed deep, letting the air out of his lungs a fraction at a time.

Breathe…

A cool breeze fanned the grass around him and brought the scent of loam and leaves. Familiar smells on familiar ground. He flexed his fingers, felt the earth beneath his palms.

Get grounded…

That's why he'd come here. To get his head straight and to focus on the stupid booklet he'd been puzzling out. Falling asleep hadn't entered into his plan.

Great, how many hours did that set me back?

A deer nose descended on him, bussing his brow.

Shikamaru grunted and turned his face aside, reaching up to push gently at the doe's neck, attempting to avoid the inquisitive nose sniffing him out. The hind nibbled at the ends of his hair, earning a grumble from the young Nara.

"Troublesome…"

Chastened, the doe blinked soft liquid brown orbs in what could only be described as the deer equivalent of 'puppy eyes'.

"Tch." Shikamaru reached up to scratch affectionately at a white birthmark on the deer's cheek, smiling a little. "Happy now?"

The doe's ears twitched and angled, drawn to the sound of his voice. She nibbled at the backs of his fingers, sniffing for rice crackers. Damn. He'd left the shika sembei biscuits in his knapsack. In fact, the only thing he'd brought out here with him other than the Akatsuki booklet had been the birthday present Ino had ordered him to open last.

Save the best till last, huh?

Shikamaru swung his arms and sat up, startling the deer. He murmured softly to set her at ease, stroking her elegant neck with one hand, reaching out with the other to pull the gift into his lap. The deer hooked her head over his shoulder, attempting to get at it.

"Oi," Shikamaru drew his shoulder up, nudging her away. "Go bug my old man."

As the shadow-nin worked on opening the box-shaped gift, the deer folded her delicate legs to settle beside him, resting her chin on his thigh. With his lap commandeered, Shikamaru set the box on the ground. He pulled the velvet black ribbon off it and hooked his thumb under the lid, lifting it with the wary caution of a ninja expecting a flashbomb.

No detonation.

Just a big book.

Shikamaru cocked his head, the caution sliding off his face. Only so many ways this thing could be dangerous or humiliating. With brows raised, he reached into the tissue-padded box and pulled out a leather-bound album. The rustle of tissue paper caused the doe to twitch her ears and tuck her nose under Shikamaru's knee, hiding. Taking the opportunity to set the book in his lap, Shikamaru flipped it open, amusement canting his lips at the colourful design on the first page reading:

THE STORY OF YOUR LIFE…so far…

Intrigued, Shikamaru began to turn a few more pages and as he flipped through the scrap book his expression broke into a rare, full-blown smile.

No way…

He traced his fingers over the edges of photographs, annotations and sketches, shaking his head. Ino and Chōji had outdone themselves; Ino especially. She'd crammed the scrapbook full of anything and everything she could associate with the shadow-nin and Team 10. She'd even stuck in a rainbow-coloured menu from Niji and circled the coffee Shikamaru always ordered – she'd even taken the liberty of scribbling next to it what she thought went into the makings of the black sludge.

When did she have time for this?

Seriously, the entire book was like an art project; a detailed and creative record of the better and best times. Even Kiba and Naruto had contributed with crayon sketches and graffiti abuse. Chōji had also included snapshots from the Hanegakure mission. There were some pages left blank with pencilled notes of "PICTURES PENDING, SLACKER".

I'll bet…

He also bet some of those pictures included the stupid bird.

Shikamaru chuckled quietly, drawing the focus of the deer grazing around him. Three more does drifted closer while others continued to forage through the undergrowth, scrounging for the best roots. Further up the slope, Rikumaru surveyed his harem and turned his huge head to study Shikamaru, his sloe eyes sage and soft in the burnt hues of sunset.

Oblivious to his guardian, Shikamaru continued to study the scrapbook, lingering on some pictures and pretending to ignore others that were either too embarrassing or too bizarre to contemplate without someone else to share his amusement or annoyance.

Damn. His whole life in a book.

Well, the abridged and edited version of his life. But one that put things into a whole different perspective; it certainly made the dark side of his past seem further away than it had been for the past few days. That was a story untold, a black and white time fractured and half-forgotten.

I don't want to know…

His mind had omitted more than just colour from those remembrances. His brain had plugged up what he could only imagine was the worst of it…leaving him to deal with the rest, watching it swirl down into the shadows inside him like blood down the plughole.

"Worked just fine for two years. I let it go."

"We don't have nightmares about things we've let go of."

Shutting out Neji's voice and ignoring the questions and fears the Hyūga's words had inspired, Shikamaru turned the next page.

He went very still.

Two pictures dominated the centre of the page, one beneath the other. Both of them were photographs of him and Asuma playing Shogi, taken at different times; one was a grainy shot from three years ago and the other a recent picture that Ino must have snapped from the bushes. Funnily enough, Asuma was wearing the same expression in both shots: exasperation and disbelief. Shikamaru noticed that he too hadn't changed much in his reactions to his sensei. A lazy half-smile with his head turned slightly to the side, feigning boredom.

Shikamaru touched the corner of one picture.

And like an electric shock in the back of his mind, his brain flashed forward the words his sensei had spoken a fortnight ago.

"For two weeks you were a different kid. No one suspected. But even on missions I knew it in my gut…and in the way you played Shogi. Like a stranger. You just weren't there."

That's not true…

Shikamaru swallowed against the sudden ache in his throat. "You're wrong…" he husked at the page, startled by he hoarseness in his voice.

The doe raised her head, blinking at him softly. Shikamaru stared numbly at the page. The sudden burn of emotion in his eyes surprised him, frightened him. He tried to swallow and his breath shook.

"Just let yourself feel angry. Just let yourself feel sad."

His own words, his own voice, his own advice coming back to bite him in the ass. How fucking predictable. How hypocritical. He'd cheated himself for months on end, pretending he was intact and hoping everyone else bought it. Hell, he'd almost managed to convince himself for two fucking years.

Until Neji…

It had all come undone at the seams after that, leaving him scrambling to pull back the common thread of lies. To think he'd preached to Neji about the dangers of avoidance when he himself had completely converted to the dogma of denial. Searching for Neji's truth had shed light on his own lies. On a past he just couldn't face. And Neji knew it as much as Asuma did…

"For all the lies between us, Shikamaru, none are more insulting to me than the truths you've twisted. And I would be angry, if I didn't know you were so afraid."

What tore at Shikamaru worse than the fear was the thought that Asuma felt in any way responsible for it.

"I failed you."

No.

Shikamaru shook his head and closed the scrapbook in his lap, letting out a shivering breath. There were many things he could live with, including the broken half-remembered memories of what had happened to him when he was fifteen. But what he couldn't live with was the understanding that his sensei shouldered a guilt and sense of accountability that Asuma would more than likely take to his grave.

"You must have felt like I just didn't try. Letting it slide. Letting you slide like that."

No. You did try…

Hell, Asuma had been the one to keep Shikamaru from losing himself completely. Every Shogi game with his sensei had felt like he'd gotten a broken piece of himself back. One piece at a time.

You kept me strong…

Shikamaru gazed up at the sky and watched the red-soaked hues begin to deepen.

So now it's my turn…to try…

Four days…

The deadline loomed on the horizon of Neji's mind like a storm, encroaching on his meditation. He found no clarity in the stillness, no silver linings of surety. Doubt blew in and clouded his mind, sinking deeper inside him, hanging heavy over his heart.

"You think you know what it is to be broken, Neji? You can't even begin to imagine all the ways that ANBU will make you redefine that word."

Of all the things Neji could imagine, one of them had been the conflict of forsaking his conscience, in order to escape his cage. But was that not the price of survival? If so, did his own struggle for survival come down to his desperation to face and fight fate or his desire to fly free from it?

"Desire or desperation, Neji? Which is it that drives any Hyūga Branch pet?"

Hitaro's words went around with Shikaku's in his mind, two elemental voices raining down oil on the fire. The rage sputtered and hissed, crackled and burned.

Neji flattened his palm to his solar plexus, breathing deep.

The anger banked to a simmer.

Breathe…

He leaned back into the steady support of the tree, releasing the air through his nose. The calm came in a cool rush…and then something else pinged on his mental radar.

Chakra…

Neji's eyes snapped open, swinging up to settle on the shadowed figure perched in the branches above, observing him from over the top of a thin book.

Neji's lips tightened. "Kakashi-senpai."

Kakashi made a mock show of surprise. "Impressive. I didn't even get to turn a page."

Neji didn't look amused. He'd had about as much as he could take of being watched from the shadows. He still felt chilled from Shikaku's hair-raising demonstration only a few hours before. He was in no mood for company. As if to broadcast this, he kept his stare cool and his expression closed.

Kakashi snapped his book shut, head tipped down in false contrition. "Sorry to disturb you."

No you're not.

Neji almost snorted at the irony. It was all kinds of 'disturbing' to have elite Jōnin creeping up on him left, right and centre. What made it worse was knowing that these 'disturbances' would be the least of his concerns in the upcoming days – which didn't keep him from frowning when Kakashi dropped down to his level.

"Meditating or ruminating?"

Unwilling to suffer disadvantage of height, Neji drew his feet beneath him. "Both."

No point in lying. Kakashi would see through it. Even so, Neji got no appraisal for his honesty, only an indecipherable sideways look. Kakashi seemed to consider something, then turned to face the large Memorial Stone, lashes drawing down over his eye.

"Your father was recruited for ANBU, wasn't he?"

Neji contained his pain better than his anger. His jaw tightened. "Is this some final attempt to manipulate me into bowing out?"

Kakashi shook his head. "It seems you've already decided."

"I decided a long time ago."

The conviction in Neji's voice startled him. Given his earlier doubts, it was like a beam of light lancing through the fog in his mind. A guiding light…and he wasn't even in the tunnel yet.

As if reading his thoughts, Kakashi gave him another sidelong look. "Nothing prepares you for it."

Neji held the copy-nin's gaze, defiance and determination the only buffer he had against the bite of experience in Kakashi's words. "I know."

He waited for the 'no, you think you know what you'll wish you had known' speech to mess up his mind. But it never came. Instead, Kakashi reached into his flak jacket and pulled out a thin scroll, handing it over. Neji eyed the offering sceptically, but took it. Anything was better than a broken ANBU mask. Or a cage of shadows.

Focusing on the matter at hand, he unfurled the scroll with a tip of his wrist, took one look at the script and frowned. "A mission."

"Well, I suppose scepticism is better than surprise," Kakashi said, his voice light, his gaze sharp.

Neji shook his head. "Why am I being assigned?"

"Hmn?" Kakashi hummed with deceptive innocence. "I think you'd agree that volunteering yourself for every A-Rank available tends to up your chances of that. You're making the rest of us look bad."

Neji stared blankly at the mission outline; the kind one didn't sign up for, but rather, got assigned to, no questions asked. "This is an S-Rank."

"With the recent Akatsuki developments, A-Rank missions are no longer the priority of elite Jōnin. And while ANBU may be your priority, it's my understanding that Shikaku-senpai has four days left to squeeze blood out of you…" Kakashi paused here and cocked his head in phony consideration. "Well, that is before you offer it up for free of course."

Neji stiffened and immediately let a long breath seep through his nose, releasing his tension in the same instance. Reacting to Kakashi's double-edged humour would achieve nothing. It's not as if he hadn't expected one or two barbs to come flying his way, casual and innocent as Kakashi always made it seem. It was always hard to tell what the hell Kakashi's motives were, although Neji felt safe to assume that as far as ANBU was concerned the copy-nin, like everyone else, was probably plotting against him.

It occurred to him – belatedly – that no one was rooting for him.

Not his clan, not his comrades, not his superiors…

No one.

The stark sense of loneliness that thought sent through him might have hurt if he wasn't already numb to the feeling.

Liar…

The truth was that being alone had never hurt – until Shikamaru. That made sense. Considering he left pieces of himself with the shadow-nin every time he broke his promise and came close enough to want, to ache, to need…

To feel…

Neji pushed down the rise of emotion and scanned the mission outline again, taking in the details word by word until his focus sharpened. "Do you know when the details of this incident came in, senpai?"

"Golden eagle post about ten minutes ago."

Neji's head came up fast. "Eagle?"

Kakashi let that sink in, nodding. "It would seem your Tsubasa Ambassador came across a ruined site en route. The area was decimated and filled with chakra. Byakugan eyes will be useful in the effort to identify the chakra nature."

"I understand," Neji murmured distractedly, already calculating time and distance. If it was a chakra reading the Hokage wanted, he'd need to move fast, before the energy trails could disperse and dilute.

Lee will halve the journey time.

An understatement, considering Lee's inner clock ran on double-time by default. He'd probably up the ante to defy the laws of physics. Neji was close to admitting that the quality of Lee's endurance and stamina were almost second to none.

Incredible.

While the Hyūga prided himself on his solid constitution, Lee's ability to push beyond the realms of physical endurance was staggering. Whether or not Tenten shared Neji's private admiration was something she'd never, ever admit mid-mission, lest it feed Lee's unending supply of energy. Energy in perpetual motion.

Neji's lip twitched a little at one corner.

Tenten will keep up…

She always did, albeit huffing and groaning for a break. Honestly, Neji had no problem sharing her complete lack of enthusiasm for leapfrogging over ravines or scaling inclines so close to being vertical that Neji still had no idea how Lee managed to do it without channelling chakra.

Ridiculous…yet remarkable…but still ridiculous…

He managed to keep from smiling and slotted the scroll away.

"I'll take my old team," he eventually replied. "I might put in for backup, if this is Akatsuki."

Rather than a nod, Kakashi's head tipped to one side and he followed up his non-verbal 'maybe' with a quiet sigh. "Given the extent of the damage, we might be looking at a Tailed Beast."

Neji's eyes rounded.

Gods…

Well, that was certainly grounds for an 'S-Rank' even if Akatsuki were in no way related to the incident. Though come to think of it, the shark-faced Akatsuki they'd come up against in the past had chakra equal to that of a Jinchūriki. Not to mention the fact that said Jinchūrikis were being targeted.

Naruto's face popped up gopher-like in Neji's mind.

It won't come to that…

"You'd best head out fast to get back in time," Kakashi advised, reaching up to adjust his hitai-ate before tossing in a random afterthought of, "Oh and its best if this mission stays strictly under wraps."

Translation: go quietly and quickly lest someone else goes loudly and recklessly.

Neji contained his amusement, but his suspicion leaked through into the faint narrowing of his eyes. "You didn't happen to put me forward for this mission, did you, senpai?"

Kakashi blinked wide and adopted that pseudo-innocent tone designed to get him answers without him having to give any away. "Now why would I go out of my way to do that?"

"I'm not in Naruto's immediate circle," Neji pointed out. "So it makes sense that you would pass this on to me rather than let any of the others catch wind of it."

A silver brow drew up. "That's your theory?"

Neji didn't buy the act but played along regardless, well aware that he was being tested – again. "I was there when Naruto went after the Kazekage…and I heard the words he spoke over Gaara's body before he was revived. If Naruto learned that another Jinchūriki had come under threat…" he trailed off, not needing to say anything more about that outcome. "I have no problem with lying to Naruto to protect him, or omitting information for the same purpose. Other than Shikamaru, who else would you trust to do that and not feel guilty?"

Kakashi tipped his head, an unseen smile carrying in his voice. "We do what is necessary, don't we?"

Neji's brow knitted, but he detected no sarcasm in Kakashi's words…which was strange, given that the copy-nin had mocked Neji for making 'necessity' a motive. To have Kakashi speaking his language rather than talking in linguistic tongues added to this whole encounter being somewhat…disturbing…but it called for less rigid defences.

Neji's expression softened a little. "How did you know I'd be here?"

Kakashi glanced towards the Memorial Stone. "Because this is the place I came to before I made the decision you made a long time ago." That grey eye pinched for a moment but Kakashi recovered fast. "And according to Pakkun you still smell toxic enough to trace at a moment's notice."

Neji snorted, smoothing out the smile that threatened. He followed the copy-nin's gaze and watched the crimson light wash over the Memorial Stone like blood soaking into the polished rock, liming the edges.

"Do you regret it?" Neji asked, regretting the question the second it left his mouth.

Kakashi kept his eyes on the cenotaph. "Are you afraid that you might?"

"No," Neji returned too sharply, biting back a wince.

Kakashi cut him a look.

Neji held that gaze and his ground, but kicked himself mentally for yet another blunder. His tone had revealed the answer for what it was: a lie. But the copy-nin didn't pull him up on it. Instead, the silver-haired Jōnin stepped closer to the Memorial Stone, his lidded gaze skating over the names etched into the rock.

"Naruto isn't the only reason I'd ask you to take this mission, Neji."

Neji stared at the back of Kakashi's head, taking a moment to consider whether or not he even wanted to venture into this conversation. Curiosity won out. "And the other reason?"

"I wasn't being facetious when I mentioned Shikaku-senpai wanting your blood."

Wonderful…

And this is why curiosity killed more than cats.

Drawing a breath, Neji braved the next step. "What do you mean?"

Kakashi let the moment draw out before he hummed a thoughtful note. "Let's just say that whatever you've done to get on our Jōnin Commander's dark side has earned you a hot seat straight across from Ibiki."

Neji blinked, stunned cold. The shock dazed him for a second. "What?"

Kakashi canted his weight onto his right foot, lazily turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. "Psychological evaluations and endurance tests are standard procedure for potential ANBU operatives. While it's not unusual for Ibiki to conduct them, Shikaku doesn't often have a ringside seat."

Fuck…

Neji felt his heart jackhammer against his ribcage. To his credit, he managed to keep a straight face and steady gaze. Inside, he felt himself vibrating like a tuning fork, a shrill note of alarm deafening him to everything but one thought.

I should have seen this coming.

On the heels of that thought, his mind barked the obvious question.

So why are you surprised?

This shouldn't have come as a shock. He'd been waiting for Shikaku to dish out punishment for what he'd done to Shikamaru. Truth to tell, he really should have expected it to come at exactly the same time Shikaku had lulled him into a false sense of security.

Four days…

He'd assumed that afforded him time to re-evaluate, to reassess and to 'imagine' – as Shikaku had put it – what it would mean to accept this self-chosen fate. But Shikaku hadn't mentioned anything about what he'd do while waiting on Neji's reply. Clearly, 'waiting' didn't enter into it at all.

Far from it.

If Neji was up for figurative 'brain surgery' with Ibiki, then Shikaku had never intended on sitting back and twiddling his thumbs. Gods, he'd probably had his mental fingers in a steeple the second he'd let Neji walk out of the Nara forest unharmed.

He played me…

Neji's eyes rounded with the realisation.

He bided his time…waited for me to come back from Hanegakure…even accounted for the Peace Conference, knowing that he could pull rank at any time…knowing he could manipulate things exactly into position…

Including his own part in it.

Silent as a shadow, Shikaku had taken measures to put himself directly between Neji and ANBU – the one thing completely out of Neji's control. While the Hyūga could fight to withstand whatever Ibiki threw at him, he couldn't influence or control the outcome of Shikaku's decision.

He's taken away my control completely…given me an illusion of it with that deadline…an illusion of choice…when the choice is his completely.

Once again, he'd had his precious value of control used against him; and all because he'd more than underestimated a Nara's premeditative mind.

Again…

Neji let out a weak laugh and shook his head incredulously, marvelling both at the irony and the inevitability.

Kakashi seemed marginally intrigued by this delayed reaction. "Well, they say nervous laughter helps with the fear. I'd certainly be sweating if I were you."

Neji managed a somewhat pained smile. "Is this a sympathy card you're playing, senpai? Why should you care what happens to me? What do you gain?"

"Gain? As I told you from the start, this has absolutely nothing to do with me," Kakashi dismissed, lifting a shoulder in a shrug as unbothered as his expression. "Honestly, I might end up in a hot seat too."

"So why are you doing it?"

The question knocked Kakashi's attention back onto the Memorial Stone and his gaze lingered here long enough that Neji doubted he'd get a reply. But it seemed Fate was in ample supply of surprises – and handed him another one.

"I was inspired by a friend," Kakashi said in an oddly hushed voice. "Inspired to pay forward what I cannot pay back."

The haunted quality of those words struck a sharp chord in Neji's chest, causing his brow to furrow. "And what is that?"

Kakashi blew out a quiet breath and turned his head, a slow, almost reluctant movement. But true to a man familiar with changing faces, an enigmatic smile creased the corner of his charcoal eye, deepening the mystery surrounding his answer. He said nothing else, leaving Neji with the futile option of drawing his own conclusions. The Hyūga doubted he'd even come close to the truth.

"Best to gather your team and leave early," Kakashi advised, turning away from the Memorial Stone to brush past Neji. "I've orders to send one of my ninken for you around noon. I suggest you're off Pakkun's radar long before then. And Ibiki's."

Neji frowned at the abrupt end to this…encounter…having expected a few more smoke and mirrors to be thrown his way, just to keep him guessing. This seemed a little too clear. No strings, no subterfuge, nothing to puzzle out. He'd stepped into a tar pit with Shikaku and now Kakashi was throwing him a rope to pull him out…without tying it into a noose to hang around his neck.

"Kakashi-senpai…"

He sensed Kakashi pause.

Neither of them turned around.

A chill breeze whipped between them, rustling the grass, diluting the thickness of the silence into a whisper. Neji stared hard at the Memorial Stone, trying to infer something from the names, trying to find some hidden message that didn't speak of death and regret and fates carved into the stone long before the names were etched there.

"You survived ANBU," Neji murmured. "Regardless of what I said before…you must have come out of it stronger, if not a better shinobi."

"You're making some pretty strong assumptions about my character, Neji."

"Then tell me you regret the decision you made and I'll recant those assumptions."

A quiet sigh, tainted by a roughness Kakashi's mask couldn't muffle and even his experience couldn't hide. "Would it cause you to doubt your decision if I said yes?"

Neji shook his head, his jaw hardening. "No."

"Then it doesn't matter either way, does it?"

But should it?

He didn't ask…wondered if Kakashi somehow heard it anyway. But again the silence. Longer this time. Leaves rustled, dropped from the trees and furled in on themselves like dead cicadas.

"No," Neji murmured. "It doesn't matter."

A muffled hum.

"Well then…" Kakashi said softly…and then in the same breath, he was gone.

Neji felt the stillness of an old, familiar solitude fall around him, a mantle he'd tucked around the corners of his bruised heart years ago. And in this stillness, he felt the heat of his conviction cool into a chunk of rock as hard and cold as the Memorial Stone turning black beneath the skies.

This is what I must do…this is the choice I make…

Like warm breath at his ear, Shikamaru's words came back to him…

"Don't forget what I told you…about being human…"

Neji gazed sightlessly at the cenotaph, but rather than the names listed, he saw sienna eyes cut sharper than the carved script of the symbols.

I'll never forget…but it's time to go…

Yes. It was time to go…and yet…

And yet Neji relaxed his stance, raised his eyes to the purple ash of twilight…and waited for the stars…wishing on the first one he saw, that one day he'd get one moment more…

Next time around…Shikamaru…

Konoha hadn't seen a red dawn in a while.

But the day bloomed like a bloody rose, clouds unfurling in dark red petals.

Kurenai leaned her head out the window, gazing up at the strange sky. The dark velvet hues of night had begun to drain away, sucked into to a bloody void of crimson and crumbled maroon. Yet the darkness hanging over Konoha still seemed so thick, almost oppressive, bearing down on the village with the weight of a mist too heavy to drift.

Strange…

Kurenai drew back and took up the watering can on the sill. She watched vermillion petals shiver under the gentle spray and tipped her wrist to better angle the shower. The cluster of red flowers danced in appreciation, the deep whorls in the centre staring up at her like dilated pupils.

The poppies had flourished.

Kurenai attributed this to extensive research in how to care for them, rather than possessing a green thumb. She'd never had to care for anything other than her Genin Team. And those kids had flourished with hard work and training. The flowers didn't ask for much; a little water, a little sunlight. But watching these small flowers bloom had caused her to acknowledge that bud of feeling she'd been harbouring in her heart. It had begun to blossom inside her over the past few months, terrifying her.

She'd never thought it would happen.

She'd always been sure that such a thing would never bear fruit and only wither on the vine. Ninja life did not lend itself well to such things. Didn't offer the kind of stability needed to nurture that kind of emotion.

But I've always wanted to know, what this felt like…

Kurenai reached up to tuck a rope of dark hair behind one ear, shifting from one bare foot to the other, feeling the frayed ends of Asuma's old shirt tickle her bare thighs.

Yes, this was still new to her.

The thought of 'being in love' seemed silly and girlish. She didn't believe in 'the magic' that belonged to besotted lovers of star-crossed romances. And yet Asuma had only to flash that wicked smile and the spell stole over her.

A fluttering, giddy sensation tickled her stomach.

She grinned, biting the ruby swell of her lip, at once excited and nervous. Crazy! To think that she still felt those butterflies every time she thought of him. Crazier still to know that he was right behind her, completely oblivious to her thoughts.

Kurenai pulled her head back to catch his reflection in the glass.

Asuma sat hunched over the cherry wood coffee table, papers spread across it in a somewhat coordinated mess. This mess had been under the microscope of his inspection for the past hour. Two lamps burned low in the apartment, casting his profile half in shadow half in light. Frowning intently, he looked rugged and dangerous, the quintessence of a disgruntled male.

He turned a sheet of paper over, scowling.

She resisted the urge to go to him. His heavy silence concerned her, but she'd promised Asuma she wouldn't disturb him. Instead, she'd brewed tea, made the bed and catered to her own crack-of-dawn routine despite his quiet words urging her to sleep.

Sleep had become difficult without him beside her.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

Just as she'd never admit the fact that going about the domestic business with him there had felt so…comfortable. What was even stranger was that she was beginning to enjoy it. It had been a constant worry in the past, the thought of this man ensconcing himself too deeply into her heart and into her comfort zone. It had never felt constant, never felt safe – until he'd said those words…

"You know why I stay. Why I'll keep staying…"

She did know; she knew hopelessly, utterly and head-over-heels-completely.

"Shit…" Asuma growled.

Kurenai turned around.

Asuma sat back with a wince, rolling stiff shoulders. He raked his hands back through the thick muss of his hair, shaking his head. Kurenai set the watering can down on the sill and went to him, skirting around the edges of the table, keeping a wide berth of his work, sensing privacy was of the utmost with regards to whatever he'd gotten himself involved in.

He offered a crooked smile. "You really like that shirt."

Kurenai knelt down beside him, folding her arms in his lap, gazing up at him through soft, strawberry eyes. "You obviously don't," she said, tipping her head down to indicate the numerous cigarette burns in the faded cotton, once the colour of tan leather.

Asuma's brows went up and down, a grin playing at his lips. "I'm so hot I burn holes through my shirts."

Kurenai raised her eyebrows, shoulders quivering, holding in her laughter. "That must have alarmed quite a few ladies back in the day."

Asuma paused in mock consideration. "Not as much as my singing."

Kurenai gave herself over to the giggles. Asuma beamed at the sound, his eyes warming like heated brandy. That irresistible, boyish grin turned up the corners of his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, flopping back on the couch.

"I'm not sure what's more insulting. The fact that you just used the words 'back in the day' or the blatant disrespect towards my vocal talent."

"You have no vocal talent, Asuma," Kurenai chuckled, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"It takes talent to be as terrible as I am."

Kurenai laughed, squeezing his shoulders in an impromptu massage. Asuma closed his eyes and hummed, tipping his head back. Kurenai smiled, gazing at him through her lashes, feeling…

So much…

Almost too much. She felt so much around him it terrified her. Vulnerability was not something she did well – and Asuma tended to avoid it at all costs. But the feelings welled up so hard that it hurt to crush them up and hold them back. Even the fear couldn't water them down, they were deep and warm and sweet as wine. They stole her breath, filling her up to the brim with…

"I love you…" she whispered, the words spilling directly out of her overflowing heart.

Asuma's shoulders drew up and his eyes slipped open.

Kurenai went very still. Fear turned cold and sour in her stomach, curdling worse than the morning sickness. She stared at him, eyes wide, lips pressed tight.

You stupid girl…

For a long moment Asuma just sat there, staring up at her, looking rugged and unreadable in the dim light.

You stupid, STUPID girl…

Kurenai felt her lungs burning, her throat tightening.

And then Asuma smiled. Soft and slow, the expression warmed his eyes and crept into every angle of his face. He sat up, brushing their mouths in an achingly sweet kiss.

"I love you back," he whispered.

Kurenai stared at him, unable to move, unable to speak. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she blinked them back fast, not wanting to take her eyes off his face for a second.

"You don't have to," she said softly.

Asuma smiled, kissed her nose and shook his head. "Thanks for the exit. But I don't need it. Not anymore."

He drew her into the powerful and protective circle of his arms. Gods but she'd never felt safer than when she was with this man. Kurenai settled her cheek against his chest, listening to the strong, steady drum of his heartbeat, purring at the feel of his fingers grazing through her hair, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot.

Head-over-heels…

They held each other, sank into the warmth of the feelings they'd both been terrified to name. Kurenai had thought it would destroy the magic, shatter the dream. But if anything, it made it sure, solid and something she never thought it would be. Safe.

Thank you…

She pressed a kiss to Asuma's chest, her breath misting through the fibres of his top. He kissed her hair and hummed deep enough that she felt the vibration roll through her, shivering.

"How are you feeling?" Asuma murmured and she knew immediately what he was referring to.

Kurenai walked her fingers along his arm. "No more missions for me. I'll have to find a way to tell my team…if they don't figure it out themselves. With Kiba's nose, he'll probably be able to tell."

Asuma grunted. "I don't even wanna know how he'd do that."

"Well, he'll be able to—"

"No. Really. For his safety, don't tell me."

Kurenai chuckled, tilting her head back to gaze up through her lashes. "A good thing that Kiba's 'sensei crush' stage is well and truly over with."

Asuma angled her with a look. "He'll be in a big 'sensei crush' with my fist if he starts sniffing around you."

Kurenai laughed, rolling her eyes. "My caveman hero. How chauvinistic of you to think I couldn't handle myself with one of my kids."

"I know you could," Asuma defended, grumbling.

He sobered from his disgruntled state when Kurenai's hands crept along his sides, threatening a tickle. He trapped her pale fingers between his, lacing them together until Kurenai pressed their palms flat, measuring the span of Asuma's large, callused hand against the slender shape of her own.

"Did you speak to Shikamaru?" she whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled around them – though asking that question was certainly taking a risk.

"Yeah…" Asuma whispered back. He sighed and the sound went through Kurenai like a rush of cold air.

"Does that have something to do with this?" She pointed her toes towards the maps and mess scattered across the table, not willing to move any further from him.

"Yeah."

Kurenai nodded. One word answers were better than silence. Besides, he'd said enough in his drunken ramblings the other night. She could still recall the pain in his eyes, the aggressive, uncoordinated pacing as he cursed his failings. She dropped another kiss above his heart.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Asuma's arms tightened around her in a brief squeeze. "You're already doing it, believe me."

Hurting for him, she tilted her head back, trying to draw his gaze. "Asuma…"

A sharp rap at the door startled them both.

Kurenai frowned, craning her neck back to glance towards the door. "Who on earth could that be at this hour?"

Asuma's mind must have supplied some answer because his breath caught and he jumped up like a dog on point, toppling Kurenai sideways onto the couch. Quicker than a cat she was on her feet, brows knitted in bemusement as she watched Asuma drag his arm across the table, gathering papers. He jerked a duffle back open and swept the documents into it, beating them down with a flat palm.

Kurenai couldn't help but be amused at his unnatural state of panic. "Expecting someone?" she purred teasingly, turning towards the door.

Asuma snorted, his movements becoming more rushed. "I should be asking that question."

Kurenai rolled her eyes, took up a crimson kimono hanging by the door and slipped into the smooth silk, tying the belt securely. She wasn't expecting anyone, which narrowed the mystery knocker down to her neighbour. Her neighbour, a.k.a the sour-faced, violet-eyed old lady living three doors down.

Twice a week, without fail.

It was routine. Ume-san made it her twice a week, early-morning business to keep Kurenai updated on the bowel movements of her prized Akita dog and the latest scandal taking place on their apartment floor. The old woman loathed ninja and absolutely refused to believe that Kurenai was associated with them, never mind the kunoichi's given occupation or romantic interest. The old crow had disowned her own son over his ninja career.

"It's probably my neighbour," Kurenai said with a sense of fatalism. "Unless you've got someone hunting after you and your detective work."

"Hn, Genma might be looking to shoot a few senbons at my ass," Asuma muttered, zipping up the bag.

Genma?

That random statement came from way out in the left field, confusing Kurenai. Why would Genma give him trouble? She didn't have time to ask. The knock came again.

Asuma scowled at the door, took two quick strides towards Kurenai, stole a kiss and turned towards the window. "You'd better get that."

Kurenai nodded, already reaching for the door though she kept her eyes on Asuma, willing him to turn around so she could read his face. "You're leaving?"

Asuma hummed distractedly, opening the window wider. "Oh I'll be back. Just gonna stash the goods."

She watched him heft the duffle bag over one shoulder and not for the first time that night, she wondered at his secrecy with the information. It wasn't curiosity that nagged at her, but rather a deepening concern. This odd switch into detective mode was quite out of character for him. He wasn't the type to indulge in conspiracies or deal with the devil of their details.

What on earth had he gotten involved in?

Or more accurately, what had Shikamaru gotten involved in?

And what does any of it have to do with Genma?

Kurenai shook her head at the jumble of questions. "Be careful, Asuma."

Asuma chuckled, not catching the undercurrents in her voice. "If I fall to my death, tell them I did it with style," he joked, setting his foot on the sill, hunkering down to prepare for his dramatic exit. "I'll be home later."

Her heart skipped a beat at the word 'home'. A flood of warmth banished the dark clouds from her thoughts, spreading joy through her like sunshine. Smiling at his back, Kurenai turned the handle to crack the door open, keeping the chain on.

Deep breaths now…

Kurenai cocked her head and glanced out into the corridor. She prepared herself for violet eyes gone milky with signs of cataract and a misanthropic rant about dogs, scandals and ninja scum.

Coffee-coloured eyes gazed back at her, honey flecks catching the dim light of the corridor. "Kurenai-sensei."

Kurenai's mind staggered in surprise. "Shikamaru…?"

The young Nara's lips quirked a little at one corner, wry and apologetic. He shifted from foot to foot, hands lodged into the pockets of his slacks, a curious mix between a lost puppy and a streetwise stray.

"Hey…" He took a half-step back and freed a hand to rub at his nape. "I'm sorry to drop by unannounced at this hour…I'm looking for Asuma."

Kurenai blinked, her mouth moving wordlessly for a moment.

"Asuma?" she managed, her next question completely unplanned. "Why did you come here?"

Shikamaru arched a brow, but had the decency not to smirk. "Hunch."

The knowing look left Kurenai feeling awkward, amused and a number of other things that didn't allow her to supply an answer.

She didn't have to.

The answer came in a loud crash.

That didn't just happen…

When the world came back into focus, Asuma wondered if it was possible to die from humiliation. He wasn't sure whether to curse the Gods who'd laughed at his plan to high-tail it out the window, or thank them for the massive wedge of bushes that had broken his fall.

How in hell did I manage that…?

He made a mental note never to joke about falling to his death. It was an invitation fate just couldn't refuse. Asuma groaned, shoving away the watering can that was dripping onto his face. That might have explained the slippery sill. He hadn't even thought to bother channelling chakra to his feet.

Talk about a rookie mistake…

Or just an idiotic one. Apparently possessing chakra went hand-in-hand with common sense – or lack thereof.

Shit.

He hoped to God no one had seen that. He hadn't even had time enough to make it look deliberate, not that a swan dive or a fancy free fall would have made it look any cooler to land on his ass. He growled, trying to get purchase in the bushes to shove upright and onto his feet.

A shadow fell across him.

Fuck.

Asuma cringed, colour creeping up his neck. Prepared to defend himself against whoever had witnessed his humiliation, he squinted up towards the staccato flicker of a streetlamp and brought the figure standing just beneath its dying glow into focus. His eyes rounded in surprise, embarrassment fast on the heels of his shock.

Shikamaru gazed at him sideways, one brow scaling up. "Such a cool adult."

Asuma gave a nervous chuckle, shooting a glance every-which-way, half expecting Ino and Chōji to be snickering from the sidelines. "Thanks for the concern. I'm fine by the way."

Shikamaru didn't smile.

Asuma attempted to dislodge his duffle bag from a tangle of branches. "The hell are you doing up this early? It's not even six."

Instead of the usual dry comeback, Shikamaru remained silent. Asuma glanced back at his student, catching the young Nara off-guard. Shikamaru tensed and leaned away from the soupy stream of light, putting himself half in shadow.

Hiding…

But not running.

Not yet.

Asuma recognised the signs. He considered but discarded the idea of using humour; there was something about Shikamaru's silence that screamed at Asuma. He couldn't have logically pinned it down to anything. The set-up carried all the signals that Shikamaru would probably sooner cut and run than say a word.

And then he spoke, or at least he tried to.

"It's troublesome but I can't keep…" Shikamaru trailed off until his breath fogged out in a shaky cloud.

Asuma's expression held as much concern as confusion. "You okay, kid?"

Shikamaru shook his head, pressing his eyes shut. "No…" he breathed out.

Asuma felt like he'd fallen out the window all over again. Stunned by the admission, he stared through wide eyes, never having expected even a hairline crack of breakthrough with his student. Certainly not here; with him stuck in a bush and Shikamaru standing under the proverbial spotlight. And not so soon after the Sarutobi's last failed attempt to reach across. It didn't make sense. It didn't fit Shikamaru's avoidance pattern.

Fuck. What's happened?

Concern sledge-hammered into Asuma's gut. He did a quick mental run-down of the past few hours, trying to account for anything that might have triggered this. In his delay to respond, Shikamaru drew in a ragged breath and turned his head away, body about to follow the movement…about to slip out of reach…

No.

Asuma swung to his feet. "Shikamaru," he called, his voice soft but firm.

Shikamaru stopped as if physically barred, still facing away. At least he didn't look ready to run. Asuma let out a breath and wrestled the duffle bag free bush, his eyes on Shikamaru the entire time. If he let this moment slide, there was no guarantee he'd ever get it back. The fact that Shikamaru had reached out rather than run away said more than Asuma could have responded to in words.

He'd have to find those words.

Don't fuck this up.

Rather than approach Shikamaru from behind he circled around to place himself in front of the shadow-nin. The young Nara stared off down the street, not meeting Asuma's gaze. He worked his throat, frowning hard.

"Hey," Asuma said softly, setting his hand on Shikamaru's shoulder, establishing a physical link to draw his student back from whatever mental road he might be thinking of running down. "Let's get outta the cold and some place I can smoke."

Shikamaru nodded.

That was enough.

Asuma chose Mangetsu. A restaurant situated a stone's throw away from the ostracised rainbow-painted Niji. Mangetsu, meaning 'full moon', lent its name to its tradition. The establishment only ever shut on the night of a full moon; a bizarre superstition that remained the exception to the 24/7 rule. However, one rule that allowed for no exception was the treatment the owner gave Asuma.

"Indulge her," Asuma said, drawing Shikamaru's gaze as they climbed the four wide steps leading up to the restaurant. "Megumi's a little intense but just go with it, alright?"

Shikamaru glanced questioningly at his sensei, but nodded. "Whatever you say."

Stepping into the foyer of the restaurant, they were greeted by an old woman with dark silver-streaked hair pinned up with ivory sticks. She was dressed in a long silk robe, its hues as soft as the iridescent pink of a conch shell. Pretty as a porcelain doll, Megumi Yoi may have looked delicate, but the lines of age about her eyes etched a portrait of strength rather than fragility.

"Obaa-san," Asuma greeted, ignoring Shikamaru's puzzled expression at the term of endearment.

"Sarutobi-sama," Megumi returned, her formality at odds with Asuma's familiarity, pressing her hands together to bow. "It's been a long time."

Asuma winced at the high title and the distance it created between them but he smiled, returning the bow. "Long time, but same old."

'Same old' denoted the routine purpose and unspoken requirements for Asuma's visits; privacy, a little purgatory and a lot of peace. He'd come here often enough in his youth to lick his wounds and escape his father. In that time, Megumi had become somewhat of a surrogate mother. During his self-imposed exile, he'd felt more guilt over leaving her than he had his village. She'd become the maternal figure he'd never truly had, perhaps.

"Same old, he says," Megumi muttered playfully and reached out to take Asuma's hands, squeezing them with fondness, amusement dancing in her ageless eyes. "But old Megumi sees you're not the same, Asuma-kun…"

Instantly, the affectionate title put Asuma at ease and his expression relaxed into a lazy grin. "Amazing what a beard can do."

Megumi chuckled like a little girl, the giggles bubbling up in flurries. Her ability to switch between wisdom and mischief kept most people on their toes. Smiling, Megumi's gaze strayed past Asuma, her dark almond-shaped eyes settling on Shikamaru, inquisitive and innocent as a child.

"Your student, Asuma-kun," she stated rather than guessed.

Asuma nodded. "Shikamaru, meet Megumi-san."

Shikamaru pressed his hands and bowed politely.

Megumi surprised the young Nara by stepping forward to clasp both his hands in hers, forcing him to straighten up. Without permission or hesitation she cupped his face between her long, elegant palms and studied his features. Her sage orbs shone like black tourmaline crystals, sparkling from an inner glow rather than borrowed light.

"Shikaku's boy," she said, tracing out imaginary marks on Shikamaru's face: the scars his father wore. Then she looked deep into eyes, triggering the reflex shuttering of those brown orbs.

Asuma tried not to smile at his student's automatic and defensive reaction, his attention shifting between them. He probably should've given the kid a better forewarning. But maybe this would rattle him enough to shake a few things loose.

Maybe she'll see what I can't…

Megumi tipped Shikamaru's head down, angling his face in an attempt to get a better look at his shuttered eyes. She clucked her tongue. "'Tsk! Open those eyes, child. Let me see you."

Shikamaru's expression pinched but the look was gone before it could settle. Instead, his hooded eyes turned to Asuma for help he wasn't going to get. Resisting a chuckle, Asuma lifted a shoulder and smoothed out his smile with his fingers, nodding towards Megumi. An unspoken reminder to indulge her. Shikamaru's jaw ticked with annoyance and he stubbornly evaded the dark eyes trying to pull him in.

Megumi chuckled, seeming to have expected no less from the young Nara. "Just like your father was. Skittish as a Nara fawn."

Not appreciating the comparison, Shikamaru's gaze cut back to the old woman and he held her stare this time. Asuma smiled behind his hand. Megumi rewarded the kid's mettle with a nod, brushing her thumbs at the corners of his eyes as if following lines of age that weren't there. She shook her head, humming a soft, sympathetic note.

"So much you carry," she said on a breath. "And so much you cannot see. You don't want to see it. It is as it should be. You're not ready."

Shikamaru's eyes rounded and looked away completely. "Ready?" he asked, sounding hoarse and troubled by the word.

Megumi smiled that enigmatic Kwan-Yin smile and patted the Nara's lean cheek, drawing his gaze back to hers. "Nara men. Such veiled creatures. With your shadowed eyes…and your funny hair."

Asuma tried not to laugh. He was long used to Megumi's mystical, maternal and overly tactile tendencies. Unprepared as Shikamaru was, it was amusing to see the ten-steps-head brain stagger over a reaction. The young Nara opened his mouth, shut it and reached up to rub at the back of his head awkwardly.

Megumi clapped her hands with delight, laughed and led them through into the restaurant's haven. "Come, come."

Inside, Mangetsu was dark and warm, all black-lacquered cypress and gold-leaf etchings, dominated by Buddhist undertones and illuminated with delicate paper lanterns that diffused the light into low, intimate hues. Non-oppressive on tired eyes and troubled hearts. Perfect.

The booth they settled on was in a private room at the back.

Asuma took the furthest bench, which gave him a view of the entire restaurant beyond the shoji doors. Shikamaru slid in on the opposite side, moving right down to the inner-end of the booth, bracing his shoulder against the window. The view looked out onto an elegant pond garden, its curvature design rife with slim islets and narrow bridges, the red hues of dawn rippling off the koi pools.

Asuma exchanged a few quiet words with Megumi regarding privacy and ordered a big breakfast. He slipped a cigarette between his lips, watching the shadow-nin with a deceptively relaxed expression.

"Hope you're hungry," he said, flicking out his lighter, the flame sparking in the glass.

Shikamaru looked across without turning his head, chin set in his palm. "So what is she? A soothsayer or something?"

"I told you to indulge her," Asuma said by way of vague explanation, offering nothing more about the woman. "Don't worry, that's the last of it. She understands that whenever I come here it's usually because I want to be left alone."

Shikamaru arched a brow. "Why would you wanna be left alone?"

Asuma avoided the look and the question, searching the table. "We're not here to talk about me."

Shikamaru frowned and gazed out into the garden. A second later he reached to slide a glass ashtray towards his sensei, the delicate bowl whispering across the wood. A cooperative movement. Asuma acknowledged the positive sign and let out the tense breath he'd been holding.

Play this smart…

The Sarutobi took a deep pull on his cigarette and prayed to whatever God had brought them to this moment that he wouldn't fuck it up.

Shikamaru continued to gaze out at the garden, saying nothing.

Probably thinking everything…

Asuma breathed tobacco into the silence, casting up prayers with the smoke. He waited for the meals to be set down and for Megumi to slide the shoji doors shut before finally speaking.

"Alright. I'm listening," he said, crushing out his cigarette. "Talk to me."

Shikamaru was slow to answer and took two bites of tofu before responding. "You said I was like a stranger…"

Asuma looked up from his meal. "What?"

"When we played Shogi two years ago. You said it's like I wasn't there. Funny…" Shikamaru went on quietly, eyes glued to the tofu in his soup. "…that's the only time I ever felt like I came back."

How that was funny Asuma couldn't even begin to fathom. He frowned, scanning Shikamaru's expression. "Came back from where?"

Shikamaru kept his gaze on his meal, poking rice grains around as if trying to sift through his thoughts. The grind of mental wheels turning inside that genius mind had Asuma wanting to jam the gears in Shikamaru's head just to get him to talk instead of think.

Don't. Fuck. This. Up.

Asuma let the ends of his chopsticks hit the china in a soft clink. He forced himself to wait out Shikamaru's silence and was rewarded by a brief flash of eye contact.

"When you joined the elite Twelve Guardian Ninja, were you…" Shikamaru paused, searching for the right words. "Were you head-hunted for the role?"

Asuma blinked, drawing up in his seat. The memory of that time felt like cold shrapnel lodged in his skull, a constant pressure on deeply buried nerves. He really didn't want to talk about that. But, figuring that putting in an answer might get him one, he considered his response.

"I wouldn't say I was head-hunted." He scratched at his throat, adjusting the neck of his top with a grimace. "I wasn't exactly recruited in the…uh…conventional way."

Shikamaru frowned. "How did they find you?"

Asuma grunted, glancing out the window.

How had they found him?

Lost…

Lost on the road to nowhere and nothing. So the Fire Daimyō's men had offered to take him somewhere and give him something. He'd accepted. And he'd got more out of it than he'd bargained for. Not that he'd had much to trade other than muscle and skill. He'd been good at fighting and got even better at protecting. He'd got a taste of the recognition his father had never given him and a misplaced sense of belonging that Konoha hadn't provided until he'd returned years later, disillusioned yet determined to try again.

"It seemed like a good deal at the time," Asuma murmured.

"But how did they get to you?"

"Get to me?" Asuma cocked a brow at the word-choice. "You make it sound like I didn't have a choice…"

"You know what I mean," Shikamaru dismissed, an insistent edge cutting into his voice. "How'd they know you were what they wanted?"

"My reputation preceded me," Asuma joked lamely, pulling back from the memory, digging out a cigarette. "Let's just say I was notorious rather than celebrated. Why are you asking? You had a change of heart – or head – about taking up the feudal lord's offer?"

Shikamaru didn't look amused or willing to answer, his eyes sharpening on Asuma's, searching, calculating. "You went with them because you wanted to."

"Well sure."

"So no one tried to…" Shikamaru trailed off, fixing his gaze on the tabletop.

Asuma frowned. "Tried to what?"

"Nothing…"

My ass nothing…

The Sarutobi took a moment to light his cigarette and took stock of the big fat stonewall his student had pulled up. Great. Now he'd need to create some cracks in those defences in order to get breakthrough. At least Shikamaru had armed him with some information to use as a pick axe.

He watched Shikamaru closely, betting his instinct on the response he'd get to his next words. "Headhunting isn't bounty hunting, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru stopped just short of picking up a square of tofu. He set his chopsticks down and snorted, dodging Asuma's gaze. "I know that."

"Do you?"

Shikamaru's hands tensed and slid off the table. He leaned away. "Yeah."

Asuma took note of the retreat and tapped ash into the tray, frowning. "When you turned down the Fire Daimyō you told me you rejected that offer because you wanted to stay in Konoha to protect your friends. But you also said it wasn't anything that noble either."

Shikamaru looked up sharply, then away.

Bingo.

"So," Asuma blew a lazy stream of smoke. "What's the real reason you turned it down?"

Shikamaru ground his jaw. "I told you…"

"Yeah…" Asuma leaned forward, drawing Shikamaru's focus back to him, trying to strategise the best way to handle this. "And I know you're lying to me. Is that why you came here? To feed me another cock-and-bull story?"

Shikamaru blinked, eyes widening. Asuma steeled himself against the hurt pushing into those dark orbs and kept up an offended front, hoping to corral Shikamaru with guilt.

"Maybe that's not even the worst of it," Asuma went on, watching the smoke spiral from his cigarette to keep from watching his student's expression pinch. "Maybe you want to add insult to injury by not only insulting my intelligence, but insulting the fact that you know I'll hear you out every time in hopes I'll get something even close to the truth."

Shikamaru looked like he'd taken a backhander across the face. He turned his head aside, blinking fast. "That's not true…I…" Then quite unexpectedly, his eyes cut back, narrowing into sharp pin-points. "You have no idea…"

Asuma took note of the flip-switch reaction.

Good. I can work with anger…

Anger was better than avoidance – hell, he should know.

"No idea? You're right about that." Asuma chuckled darkly and leaned back in his seat, easing out of Shikamaru's space, giving the kid room to breathe so he didn't feel trapped. "I just have inklings instead. Lucky for me I always place more on instinct than intellect. Probably makes me a shitty liar. You on the other hand…"

Shikamaru's lips tightened, but a deep and vulnerable pain played just beneath the surface of his eyes. He'd never been able to hide that from Asuma.

So you run…I get that…

Shikamaru shot a quick glance towards the end of the bench, a subconscious search for an exit. "Just say it," he growled. "Go ahead and tell me I'm a coward and a liar. I know it. You know it. So just say it."

Asuma shook his head. "I won't deny that you've got one heck of a silver tongue on you, Shikamaru. But if you were just a liar and a coward then why are we even here?"

The question dropped like an anvil, cracking the anger off Shikamaru's face. Dark eyes widened and whatever answer the shadow-nin might have voiced never made it up his throat. His breath snagged and he looked away.

"Talk to me," Asuma said softly. "I know you want to talk to me."

Silence mocked them both. It rang in Asuma's ears, setting off all kinds of alarms. He closed his eyes, sighing. God, he'd screwed this up. Stupidly lost his chance – perhaps the only one he'd ever get.

And then fate dealt a different hand.

"Why…?"

Asuma's eyes snapped open, locking onto Shikamaru. "What?"

"Why…" The shadow-nin's voice was faint, sounding about as far away as the look in his eyes. "Why the hell did you have to tell me you were sorry?"

Asuma stared for a long second. "Because you deserved to hear it."

"I didn't need to hear it."

"Then I needed you to hear it," he said; the honest to god truth, straight out his mouth without planning or preamble. "I needed you to know that I'm sorry…and that I'll always be sorry for that."

Shikamaru took a ragged breath. "It wasn't your fault."

"This isn't about my guilt, Shikamaru." Asuma crushed out his cigarette, his voice soft and low. "But if that's what's brought you here, then I don't regret laying it on you."

"You don't have to regret anything." Shikamaru looked back at him, his voice stronger, surer. "You weren't there. It wasn't your fault. You need to get that."

"Alright. I get that."

"You're lying."

A faint smile touched Asuma's lips. "Shitty liar by my own admission."

"I don't need you to be sorry."

"You've got a real problem with that word don't you? Why is that?"

"Because it doesn't change anything," Shikamaru ground out, straining to keep his voice flat, not realising that his eyes were already betraying him. "So maybe this was just a bad idea. The past is over. It's done."

Asuma shook his head, knowing as well as his student that the only thing that was done was the lie. Shikamaru had done the lie to death. And yet like a defenceless kid he was still dragging around the tattered remains like a safety blanket, reluctant to let go.

Asuma's eyes softened. "Shikamaru…"

The look caused Shikamaru to go rigid. He struggled to hold his sensei's gaze. "Quit looking at me like that. I don't need your regret."

"Is that why we're having this talk?" Asuma's gaze held fast on his student, a dark brow drawing up. "To make me feel better? That's not your job."

"It's not your job to protect me either. I'm not a Genin anymore," Shikamaru snarled back, blinking fast, latching onto the logic to save him from the emotion Asuma could already see rising in his eyes and roughening his voice. "You're not responsible for me and—"

"Does your father know?" Asuma cut in.

Shikamaru went rigid, leaving Asuma in no doubt of the answer. And the certainty of the answer ate into that knot of guilt Asuma had carried around like a cancer for two years.

"Guess that's a no-brainer, huh? Course he doesn't," Asuma said quietly, his eyes softening into deep wells of sadness. "You wouldn't still be in this state if he did."

A long stare punctuated by a longer silence.

He watched Shikamaru's mouth twist, lips pressed tight while the shadow-nin fought with himself, his breath coming a little harder through his nose.

"He can't change it…" Shikamaru grit out. "Neither can you…so spare me your guilt."

"You're not responsible for how I feel about the mistakes I've made."

"And you're not responsible for how I feel about what I've done."

"What you've done?" Asuma challenged in a deadly quiet voice. "Or what was done to you?"

Shikamaru pulled back in his seat. The flush of anger sucked out of his face, leaving him pale and stricken. "Don't. Don't twist it."

"Twist what?"

Shikamaru struggled to respond, his gaze seeming to bounce off every surface as he searched internally for some defence, eyes cutting back and forth across the table.

Riding on instinct alone, Asuma drew a deep breath and dropped his next question before Shikamaru could recover. "I know that something happened to you during those Chūnin exams two years ago. Did someone get to you before the Fire Daimyō?"

Shikamaru's gaze stopped darting. He sucked a breath through his nose.

Asuma's heart twisted just short of tearing.

Genma, I'm gonna fucking castrate you…

Getting a grip on his anger, Asuma pushed himself to go on, to do what he hadn't had the heart to do before. "Did someone try to—"

"Don't, Asuma…don't go there…"

Asuma set his forearms on the table, bridging distance very slowly. "It's alright."

Panicked, Shikamaru's eyes locked onto Asuma's chest, though the Jōnin sensed he wasn't seeing a thing. He had the look of someone whose systems were shutting down and walls were closing in. Those luminous orbs grew wider, haloed gold in the preternatural light streaking through the room, gazing without focus…staring…staring…

Asuma's stomach double-clutched at the lost expression. "I know you're scared."

Shikamaru's jaw quivered. He husked a shaking laugh, eyes glazed, his voice strained and small. "You don't know what I am…"

Asuma smiled sadly, a tender look. "I know who you are, if that helps."

A sheen of tears glazed Shikamaru's eyes.

There you are, kid.

Asuma had to push down the emotion that slammed into his diaphragm. "Shikamaru. It's alr—"

"It was supposed to be a mission," Shikamaru cut in, his voice hoarse. "A side op."

A chill shot through Asuma. "Supposed to be?"

"Three, there were three…"

Just like the reports had stated. Asuma nodded encouragingly. "And what happened?"

"I failed…"

"You failed?" Asuma frowned. "You mean it was just you on this side-op?"

There was no way that was possible.

Shikamaru didn't acknowledge the question. With a sudden turn of his head, his glazed stare swung out the window. And just as quickly as he'd opened up, the proverbial door slammed shut between them.

Shit!

Refusing to let that thread of truth slide, Asuma tried to configure the best way to reel Shikamaru back. "Okay, this pseudo-mission," he prodded gently. "Did it take place outside of Kusagakure?"

Shikamaru nodded once. No hesitation.

"Where?"

"I don't know…"

Asuma cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't remember."

"How can you not re—"

"Dissociative amnesia," Shikamaru supplied robotically, continuing to stare numbly out the window, his eyes damp and distant. "That's the PTSD textbook definition for it." A brittle, black laugh – almost incredulous. "I researched…"

Dissociative amnesia. PTSD…

The translation shot up on instant recall: Post traumatic stress disorder. Dread dropped like lead into the bottom of Asuma's stomach, leaving him feeling a little dizzy and a little sick.

"Amnesia?" he echoed.

"Dissociative." Shikamaru sniffed and shook his head at his reflection, or maybe at the irony of his next words. "I remember things I wish I could forget…what the hell does that say…about what I can't remember?"

No amount of foreboding could have prepared Asuma for that. He felt like something was shaking inside him. Anger seemed safer than fear and it ignited in the pit of his belly, sending red smoke to his brain, threatening to fog out the clarity he needed to continue with his questions.

Calm down.

Asuma straightened up and set his hands on his thighs, the muscles harder than steel.

Get. A. Name.

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "Does the name Naoki mean anything to you?"

Shikamaru shook his head, a genuine lack of recognition as far as Asuma could tell.

Is that because you don't know…or because you can't remember?

God, what the hell had happened? What the hell had Shikamaru experienced that his subconscious had swallowed most of it into shadow? Asuma searched his student's profile, emotion clawing across his own face, tearing a deep furrow into his brow.

"Shikamaru…" he murmured. "Will you tell me what you do remember?"

Shikamaru said nothing, his moist eyes gaining and losing focus, like some part of him was struggling to minimize the memory while another part was magnifying it in his mind's eye. His breathing began to fray, coming harder through his nose.

Asuma fought not to reach across, his voice soft. "I need you to tell me what you remember."

For a long moment Shikamaru just stared at the condensation of his breath against the glass, watching it fog and fade in ragged puffs. Then he pressed back against the booth, as if drawing away from a dangerous mental edge.

Asuma willed him over it, just a little, just enough to get a name, a clue, a confirmation of the location Genma had given him…something…anything…

"Shikamaru…"

"What I dream…that's what I remember…"

"What do you dream?"

"Pieces...in pieces..." Shikamaru didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't break state for a long moment, almost like he'd slipped into trance. "Faces, voices, noise…an onsen…a baiting cellar…"

"Baiting cellar?"

Nodding slowly, Shikamaru went on in a toneless murmur, the details drifting through his mind and out of his mouth like smoke; obscure, vague. "Sometimes I'm watching it…sometimes I'm in it…I can't get out. I don't know whether that's imagined or remembered. But I remember the noise…"

"Noise?" Asuma pressed quietly.

"Animals…and something else I can't make out. They said I'd proved my mind. Proved I was a strategist…but he wanted to bring out something else."

"He?" Asuma latched onto the pronoun, desperate to attach a name and face to it. He felt his body cramping with restraint, holding back the urge to jerk forward. "Who?"

Shikamaru didn't register that he'd even made the transition from 'they' to 'he' and continued on in the same remote tone, oblivious to Asuma's interruption. "They said it was a different kind of game...a bigger game…the instinct to survive. To understand motive at a base level…" he broke off here to snatch a breath, blinking fast, breathing harder. "It didn't have anything to do with strategy."

Asuma frowned, jaw clenched so hard his molars creaked. He had to focus. He couldn't react. He needed to respond. Get answers. "Then what did it have to do with?"

"Bringing out my instinct…" Shikamaru gave a choked laugh, the sound shaking him like the tremors before a break. His was sweating now, voice trembling. "Bringing out my fear…taking away the board…"

The board?

Asuma struggled to stay in his seat. He could almost see Shikamaru inching towards the mental ledge. He felt like he was standing right there with his student. Unconsciously, the Jōnin reached up to grip the edge of the table.

"Shikamaru…give me a name."

Shikamaru's throat closed up and he strained to swallow, panting through his nose, grimacing at the pain. He reached up to rub at his face, pulled his hands back in shock and stared at his sweating palms and shaking fingers.

"This is…crazy…" he croaked out, trembling. "No. It's not real."

Fuck.

Asuma made to reach across. "Shikamaru…"

Startled, Shikamaru jerked away from the table, staggering in an attempt to bolt up and twist out of the booth, panic tearing at his breath.

Asuma shot forward and grabbed his wrist, yanking him back. "Don't run."

Shikamaru glared at Asuma's hand and his eyes seemed to eclipse like black discs, going dead and cold. Trembling lips parted and his voice came out so chillingly calm that it seemed completely detached from him.

"Get the fuck off me."

That voice washed Asuma cold. His heart dropped into his stomach and he lurched to his feet, getting a rough grip on Shikamaru's nape.

"HEY!" Asuma barked, anchoring their gazes, searching those murky eyes for some hint of recognition. He snapped his fingers in front of Shikamaru's face and shook him hard. "Focus! Come back here. Look at me, Shikamaru!"

Shikamaru's blinked, breaking out of whatever zone he'd slipped into. Dark orbs refocused on Asuma, wide and wet. "Let go, sensei…"

Asuma almost hesitated, almost gave in to the plea. He tightened his grip instead, his voice level and low. "And let you fall? Not happening. You came this far and I'll pull you the rest of the way if I have to. Even if I have to go through your shadows to get to you."

Confusion twisted Shikamaru's expression and the look was all the confirmation Asuma needed; the shadow-nin didn't realise what had just happened. He'd zoned out completely. Frowning, Asuma transferred his grip to Shikamaru's shoulders, keeping a solid hold on his student, cursing the table that restricted his leeway.

"Just tell me," he urged, torn between wanting to pull Shikamaru away from the pain and push him through it all at the same time. "Tell me so I can help you make sense of this. Tell me so I can help you make it stop!"

Shikamaru shook his head violently but he didn't try to break Asuma's grip. He could have, he could have twisted out of it. But he didn't. And the fact that he didn't screamed for help so loud Asuma could almost hear it.

Dammit! I'm RIGHT HERE!

Giving into the frustration rather than the sadness, Asuma seized his anger with both hands, his fingers digging in at Shikamaru's shoulders, wanting the kid's shaking to stop, wanting the questions and lies to stop.

"Stop RUNNING from me!"

"I CAN'T!" Shikamaru snarled, the anger lashing forward, teeth bared. He hunched his shoulders, tried to break that grip. "I can't STOP! I don't know HOW!"

Asuma gripped harder. "Yes you do. You did. You know how. God dammit. You came to me didn't you? You reached out. And now you're ready to cut and run? If you can't find it in yourself to try then try me. Try me if you don't trust me."

"Don't do that…" Shikamaru whispered, the plea snagging in his throat. He reached up with both hands to grip his skull but stopped at shoulder height, warding Asuma off with shaking palms. "Don't mess up my head with words…don't…it's not about trust…"

"And it's not about your head. I'd never play those games with you," Asuma growled back. "The only game we play is Shogi."

"Then consider this checkmate, sensei…" Shikamaru shot back, his voice rough as sandpaper. He wrenched free and made to twist from the booth, disoriented and desperate to escape. "I'm done!"

Done. Finished. Too late.

NO.

"The HELL you are!" Asuma snarled.

In one violent swing, he slammed his fist into the booth before Shikamaru could slip from it, crushing the wood beneath the plush upholstery, barring the shadow-nin's exit.

Shikamaru went rigid, stopped cold.

Asuma leaned in, growling his words directly into Shikamaru's ear. "SIT. DOWN."

The shadow-nin remained paralyzed, eyes fixed on Asuma's arm as if that punch had gone through him instead. Neither said anything for a moment. Asuma had stopped breathing altogether, the tension radiating off him so strong he could have sworn it was the force of his desperation crushing Shikamaru against the side of the booth. As it was, he wasn't touching the kid, but Shikamaru looked like something had a death grip on him.

The fear…

Asuma's eyes softened, his voice trembling hard. "God you stubborn kid. What the hell is it? Why can't you try? If it's over and done with then why are you still so scared?"

Ashen-faced, Shikamaru's stared ahead, eyes blind with fear.

God please…

Asuma let go of his tension by degrees, but didn't lower his arm, keeping his student penned in. "If you can't tell me what happened or who did it…then tell me WHY you can't."

"Stop…" Shikamaru rasped.

"Tell me why."

"I can't."

"WHY, Shikamaru!"

"I CAN'T!"

"DAMMIT!" Asuma shouted, leaning in. "What the hell are you so afraid of!"

"ME!" Shikamaru roared, the word tearing up like a piece of his soul, bloody and raw. The tears sheeted thick across his eyes and he snapped his head around to glare at Asuma. "Because maybe I'm something WORSE than they were! Worse than HE was!"

Asuma stared, numbed by the outburst. "…What?"

"THAT'S WHY!" Shikamaru shouted, his voice starting to break. "Don't ask me to go BACK! No one else did! And I'm GLAD! If I don't remember what those people made me do then I don't have to KNOW! Don't ask me to MAKE IT REAL, Asuma! It's not REAL anymore! It's OVER!"

Feeling something giving way in his chest, Asuma's hands flew up again. He gripped Shikamaru's shoulders and shook the kid so hard his teeth rattled. "It's NOT over!"

"YES it is!"

"It's not OVER until whoever hurt you is in the god damned GROUND!"

"Then it's ALREADY over!"

"WHY!"

"BECAUSE I KILLED HIM!" Shikamaru exploded, screaming the words point-blank into Asuma's face. "He's DEAD! He's in the GROUND because I KILLED HIM!"

The air went out of Asuma's lungs.

He let go of Shikamaru.

The shadow-nin dropped. His knees buckled and his elbows hit the table in a loud crack, head falling into his hands, fingers digging into his skull. "I killed him…" he gasped out.

Shock knocked Asuma's mind one way and then another.

He worked his jaw, unable to work his voice.

Dead…done…over…

"And I'm not sorry…" the shadow-nin husked, throat all but closing on the words. He stared through red, tear-struck eyes at the centre of the table, looking shaken to the core. "I don't care…I stuck that needle in his neck…and dragged him down into that pit…and I'm NOT sorry…"

Asuma stared down at Shikamaru incomprehensively, stunned speechless. If that wasn't enough, the futility of everything he'd been trying to fix hit him broadside and kicked his feet out from under him completely.

God…

Asuma sank down in his seat.

Silence dropped with him, cold and crushing.

A hundred questions swam around his head, instincts circling around the answers like sharks, smelling the rancid stench of blood yet but unable to find the bodies.

Because I'm too late…

Always too late. Asuma grit his teeth. Veins pulsed, blood roared and his fingers balled into fists. But there was no one to kill. No named perpetrator to punish. The body he wanted to destroy was already buried. And all that was left was the gory, psychological mess from the aftermath.

And I've left you alone in this…for two years…

The shock wore off and time snapped back.

Almost peripherally, Asuma noticed that the red hues of dawn had begun to fade into a bowl of buttermilk sky, soft beams slanting through the glass to bathe the surface of the table. The light was both calm and clear, bearing witness to something that was neither.

The pastel glow drew Asuma's eyes to Shikamaru's hands.

Palms pressed against his skull, the shadow-nin's knuckles were bleached white from the strain, sinews paler than chalk against his skin, the lines strung so tight his fingers were shaking…arms trembling…shoulders held rigid in attempt to stop it…

The shock fell away from Asuma completely.

His heart throbbed and a gutting pain tore down the centre of his chest. "Shikamaru…"

No reaction.

Blinking back the moist sting in his eyes, Asuma reached up with both hands, pushed aside the trays of food and took hold of Shikamaru's forearms. The gentle contact triggered a reaction that shook the Chūnin's entire body in one crumbling shudder.

Shikamaru's expression broke like glass, eyes screwing shut. And finally the tears came, scalding and silent, squeezing out of him. "Fuck…what am I…?"

Asuma's breath caught on the knot in his throat. "You're a good kid, that's what you are."

"Then…why…" Shikamaru dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, shaking like a palsy victim. "No one said anything…asked anything…I…couldn't remember…and I didn't even wanna know…I didn't ask…didn't want to…and anything I remembered…I didn't tell anyone…because I…"

"Hey," Asuma whispered, squeezing the shadow-nin's arms, pulling his hands away from his face. "Look at me…"

"Because I can take what he did to me…but what about what I did…?" Shikamaru choked out, staring at his palms, at the bitter salt of his tears. "What if I'm…something worse…?"

"You're not," Asuma growled, pressing Shikamaru's arms again, trying to impress his words into the grip. "I need you to trust me on that."

"How?" Shikamaru screwed his eyes shut, turning his face away. "I'm not sorry…and I don't wanna go back to find out if I should be…that's messed up…" A shattered breath tore out of him, strangling into a sob. "I'm messed up…"

Asuma drew him forward until the Nara's elbows slid across the wood, allowing for Shikamaru to curl down toward the tabletop. The shadow-nin dropped his head between his arms with a rattling breath, the tears leaking out like blood.

"You're not messed up." Asuma laid a hand on Shikamaru's nape, squeezing gently, leaning down until their heads were almost touching. "People don't shed tears over things they don't care about. But let me tell you something. I don't care what you had to do to get out and get home…you're a good kid, Shikamaru…you're not whatever the hell 'they' or he told you that you were…"

Shikamaru shook his head and tried to pull away.

"Don't even think about it," Asuma growled, pulling him back. "You know I'll chase you down. Don't make me. Not now that I've finally caught up."

Shikamaru sank forward at the words, resistance collapsing, muscles trembling, breath snagging in shallow gasps. Asuma hummed quietly and continued to keep contact at the shadow-nin's nape, providing that vital lifeline, that crucial link.

A crucial link that comes too damn late…I should have been there…why didn't I prepare for this…? Why did I let her send you? Why didn't I think ahead? Why didn't I stop it? Why didn't Genma get you help? Why doesn't Shikaku know?

Why. Why. WHY!

It didn't matter that the 'whys' wouldn't change a damn thing. It didn't matter that the 'whys' had no bearing on the past or the people in it. It didn't matter that hindsight made everything seem solvable and reversible when in reality it didn't work that way.

It didn't matter at all.

Because as useless as those 'whys' were now, they cued up in Asuma's mind regardless of their futility. God, just the thought of anyone hurting Shikamaru had been unthinkable…and now to know for sure that someone had…

WHY!

Asuma gritted his teeth, trying to pull his own composure together, taking the opportunity to clench his eyes shut while his student couldn't see his face.

If you hadn't killed him, God knows I would have.

And God knows he'd have made it a slow, painful death to a vile, perpetual hell.

As for what Shikaku would have done…

The fact that Shikaku didn't even know opened up one massive, messy Pandora's Box of dark questions; all of them relating to how the hell this information had been kept from the elder Nara in the first place.

Another web of lies…

And Shikamaru had been caught up in it, struggling to keep all the threads together just to keep himself from coming apart.

God…I'm sorry…

Asuma stroked a hand over Shikamaru's head. "I'd undo it for you if I could."

Shikamaru made a tight, choked sound, his voice rasping out so faintly that Asuma had to cock his head down to hear it. "You're always chasing me down."

The Jōnin swallowed hard. "Keeps me spry," he teased, desperate to alleviate the pressure in his own chest. "But you don't need to run from me now. Or from yourself."

Shikamaru shook his head back and forth, ponytail slashing from side to side. "It's lost…I can't get a grip…"

Asuma ducked his head down, speaking quietly. "When you feel strong enough to remember it, it will come back. And when you're ready to face it and to talk about it, I'll be here. However long it takes. I'm not going anywhere. I won't let you fall. I won't leave you alone in this."

Asuma let the promise in those words settle over the silence. It was all the Jōnin could do to keep from raging, from taking matters into his own hands. But if Shikaku didn't know, then he'd have to play it very carefully. He'd need to get his tactics flawless and bide his time.

But that time would come.

And God help whoever had a role in the cover-up and a hand in the crime.

Because there was still a 'them' to punish if not a 'He'. There would be a line of perpetrators who'd allowed whoever had hurt Shikamaru the power to access him. And Asuma would sniff out those responsible, hunt them down and take them out. He'd dog them one by one if he had to. Wouldn't be the first time he'd exterminated so-called 'untouchables'; players that moved in social circles above suspicion and beyond reproach. He hadn't been an elite protector to one of the most powerful Daimyō's for nothing.

And that was based on principle.

This had nothing to do with duty or principles.

This is personal…

He wasn't a creature of detachment and logic when it came to what mattered. He wasn't Kakashi and he sure as hell wasn't Genma. Maybe he'd never have gotten this close to his students if he had been. And he wouldn't have sacrificed those bonds for anything, even if it would've made life easier.

Team 10 were the unit he'd not only taken on, but taken in.

They'd saved him from a life of aimless drifting.

They'd given him back what the Guardian Twelve had broken.

Those bonds went deeper than blood…and woe to anyone who underestimated how far he'd go to protect them.

I'll go as far as it takes me.

Even if it came too late, even if the blame stopped at whoever Shikamaru had killed, even if dredging it all up two years later seemed senseless and sadistic.

"If you care about that Nara kid, you'll let this go."

Fuck that.

It was because he cared that he couldn't. Wouldn't.

Someone will pay for this…I swear it…

Shikamaru let out a shuddering breath, drawing Asuma's focus back. The shadow-nin turned his head to one side like a diver coming up for air, resting a lean cheek against his arm. He'd stopped shaking, his breathing steadier, softer.

Asuma drew his hand back and pressed the Nara's wrist, checking his pulse at the same time, waiting until the beat began to settle. "I know who you are inside. And nothing and no one can touch that."

Shikamaru swallowed with difficultly, not saying anything for a long moment. "And if there's something else inside me?" he whispered, almost to himself.

Asuma's grip tightened, his voice a low growl that came out fiercer than a shout, rumbling with strength and emotion. "You listen to me and you hear me on this, Shikamaru. I don't give a damn what you needed to do to survive. You get that? Look at me."

With more struggle than Asuma could stand to see, Shikamaru straightened up just enough to raise his eyes, gazing at his sensei like a lost kid, his whisky-brown orbs limed with tears – letting Asuma read it all in his face.

The Sarutobi acknowledged the drop of defences with a gentle nod. "Whatever you had to do, it doesn't matter."

Shikamaru searched his sensei's face for a lie, desperate to believe the words but not daring to allow himself that reassurance. His eyes pinched. "You're wrong. It should matter…"

Asuma blinked, hearing his own voice in Shikamaru's words…and then Kakashi's voice, calm as you please, gliding over both:

"…morality comes with many faces and it changes according to custom, culture and more importantly, according to context, which is often affected by who and what we care about."

Asuma swallowed, feeling like he'd just been force-fed the obvious all over again. He couldn't help but smile a little, knowing Kakashi was – as usual – irritatingly right about objective insight into subjective matters. Not that Asuma would ever admit it…well, not aloud anyway.

"Maybe it should matter…" Asuma said. "To the moral police. But not to me."

Shikamaru's eyes widened. "But—"

"But nothing," Asuma growled. "I don't care how selfish that sounds. I don't care how low you had to crawl in order to make it back onto your feet. It brought you home. It brought you back. That's all I care about."

Another searching look, another rattling breath. "What if I never got back up?"

"You did."

"How do you know?"

Asuma smiled sadly. "Because even running away takes getting back up again. And you've been running a long time. Time to stop. You're safe now."

Shikamaru blinked slowly, the words sinking in. And for the first time since talking about this, he didn't slip away into those subconscious shadows like he had countless times before. For the first time, Asuma saw something lingering behind the pain and fear in those eyes, standing stronger than the shadows. He saw the seven-year-old Nara boy looking back at him, searching for clouds in the smoke. Lost, but not gone.

That kid. God. That's all I needed to see…

Because that kid had survived whatever hell the teenager had been through. Maybe something was broken inside, wrapped up tight in the darkness of Shikamaru's unconscious. But whatever was broken wasn't beyond repair. It was haunted but not hollow, disillusioned but not dead. And now, finally, they could work on bringing Shikamaru out of those shadows. Work on treating those wounds he'd stitched up with the infection still burning under the scars. Those scars would need to be cut open again so the poison could bleed out.

But not today.

Shikamaru wasn't ready yet. But he'd taken the first step. Asuma would meet him at the threshold and pull him the rest of the way if he had to.

I can't change what happened to you…but whatever that bastard and those people did to you, I'm not gonna let you fall because of it.

Asuma planted his hand on Shikamaru's head and rocked him on the spot. "You're going to get through this. And I'm going to be right beside you…booting you up the ass and dragging you by the ear if need's be."

Shikamaru was quiet for a long second before he mumbled a soft "Troublesome…" beneath his breath.

The familiar catchphrase was the signal. The returning grip on the hand Asuma would never stop holding out. It was another step forward, tentative but true.

"You bet," Asuma replied, looking up under his hand to catch Shikamaru's gaze, raising his brows. "So, you hearing me here or what?"

Shikamaru gazed back, processing, absorbing. He nodded beneath the grounding weight of his teacher's hand, lips flicking up at one corner.

"I hear you, sensei."

Asuma returned the smile.

For now, that was all he needed to know.

TBC.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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