Shikamaru had always considered the sandy-haired Nin to be a bit of a nuisance. Loud, brash, and generally disruptive, he was the antithesis of everything the young Nara found acceptable in an acquaintance. It was all Shikamaru could do to tolerate his presence on some days.
He had a habit of ruining things. Throwing delicately laid plans to the wind and sending entire missions awry with his childish antics and hard-headedness, he was the bane of any squad leader that liked to command even an ounce of authority. Attempting to give him orders was a battle no man could win, for he'd stared down even the Hokage and had his way. Expecting him to practice self-restraint was fool-hardy, and stealth was out of the question. From his blaring orange jumpsuit, to the mouth that never knew a decibel below full-blast, he was the photographic negative of what a ninja should be.
And yet…there was just something about the lone Uzumaki that drew everyone to him. What was it that he possessed that made him so hard to avoid, so impossible to ignore?
Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably, resting his weight on his left leg, his right having gone to sleep while he had been lost in thought. The masked grey-haired Nin that stood before him had been speaking for quite some time—a curious thing, as the man in question was the type that spoke only seldomly. Today he was speaking on a myriad of topics…life, the price of being a Shinobi, loyalty, kindness, self-sacrifice… it wasn't a bad lecture by any means, most of the ninja around him were quite moved in fact…the lazy Nara however, was taking the time to blow the dust off old memories.
He'd always been so infuriating… So why was it that even Shikamaru—who couldn't be bothered to do much of anything—would have followed him unquestioningly if he'd asked? He'd always been such a fool. A failure of epic proportions, without an ounce of natural talent in him… and yet even with every swing life took at him, all the letdowns, all the heartbreak; nothing could wipe that silly grin from his face. He was doggedly persistent, and what he lacked in poise and intellect, he made up for in a kind of deep, burning inner strength that seemed to come from the land itself.
The dead last ninja. That was his nickname. A fool and a first-grade failure… So why did it feel so empty here without him now? Why, on this crowded rooftop, surrounded by so many fellow Ninja of the Leaf...why did it feel so incredibly lonely? He looked around, and noted with a small, sad smile the looks on so many of his comrade's faces as they quietly asked themselves the same question.
As he gazed upon the rough image that was the unfinished likeness of the Seventh—a title awarded posthumously—it dawned on him. Naruto really could have been Hokage. He could have realized his lifelong dream, become everything he'd ever wanted to be, and done a damned fine job of it too. But he didn't. When a startled Shikamaru had questioned him about his declination, he stated simply that he had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Only then could he be Hokage and feel right about it.
…And that was just how he was. It was that very quality that made him who he was, a brief, bright light shining upon the Village hidden in the Leaves. Honest, upfront, and with uncompromising values, he had grown in no time from a foolish brat to a young man the entirety of Konoha could be proud of. Asking nothing, he'd given everything and more for his friends, and when the time came, without a second thought, he laid down his life to fulfill the promise he'd made so long ago. The Promise of a Lifetime, he'd called it, and indeed it was, as he stood one last time at the great gates of his home, battered, bleeding, but proud, his silhouette forever etched in the minds of all who gazed upon him as a lasting testament to unconditional love.
Nara Shikamaru's shoulders shook. He was embarrassed but couldn't help himself; those damned bothersome tears came anyway. Had it been anyone else, had he been less of a hard-head, less of an impossibly stubborn idiot, this congregation wouldn't be necessary. He would have given up like any right-minded person would, and this hollow, numbing ache wouldn't be hanging in the air over Konoha…
Shikamaru's eyes found the picture seated atop the lonely little memorial. Two bright blue eyes beamed out above a familiar Cheshire grin.
…But had it been anybody else…had he not been all those things…He wouldn't have been Uzumaki Naruto. To make good on his promises no matter the cost…well…that was his Ninja way. In a time of betrayal and mistrust, he had been whole-hearted and honest, refusing to back down no matter what.
The irony of the situation hit Shikamaru full force, and though his heart was still heavy, he couldn't help but chuckle. That big idiot really had gotten the last laugh. After all, it had once been all Nara Shikamaru could do to tolerate his presence. The truth of the matter was… now he couldn't imagine the Hidden Leaf without him.