Needle in the Hay

You say you know what he did

But you idiot kid, you don't have a clue

Sometimes they just get caught in the eye

you're pulling him through

- Elliot Smith -

Shikamaru Nara's day was like any other as far as the people around him were concerned. He woke up, went to work, ate lunch at the usual dumpling hut and didn't say a word to anyone. The only visible signs of the day's significance went unnoticed. It was only in the slight tension of his movements and the way he looked up at the clock tower at exactly three o'clock before going back to work with grim determination. No one in town knew him well enough to notice and they didn't like him enough to care.

That was alright in Nara's book. He preferred to be anonymous; in fact, he was known to the people here as Isamu Sato. A necessary precaution if he was planning on staying here in peace, the name was something he'd pulled out of thin air. Now he'd been here in the Land of Waves for three weeks, and he was finally starting to feel safe.

Unlike most people, boredom agreed with Shikamaru. He had what he needed to live and not a lot more than that. Not really caring where he wound up, he'd decided to rent a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. The long trek home after work each day, down the deserted trail to his temporary home, was often the highlight of his day.

The building he lived in for the past weeks housed exactly six and a half others: an elderly couple and their middle-aged son and a young, expecting couple. So far, the only tenant Shikamaru had spent any real time with was the young mother, Amaya. Her husband was always away, working, and Shikamaru was constantly getting roped into helping her with things around the house.

Tonight, for instance, he'd stopped by the market to pick up ingredients for some sort of soup. Now he was obligated to carry the heavy bags inside and help her put everything away, though he would have much preferred to be alone. Especially on a day like this, his instincts were compelling him to run, hide, be alone somewhere, to brood himself into a furious sleep so tense he'd wake up with his back hurting.

"Another month on top of that, if you can believe it," Amaya was saying airily, "Just because that incompetent foreman can't get his act together." Her words were lilting and it might have seemed like she was speaking causally, but the way she slammed the box of rice onto the counter gave her away. If Shikamaru hadn't been so lost in his own worries he might have taken comfort in the fact that Amaya, like him, wasn't having the best of days.

The water hissed and spat as she pitched cups of rice into the pot. With a satisfying bang, Shikamaru closed the cupboard which he'd just finished loading with stock, potatoes and other standard fare. It all looked delicious to him, but he'd been living off dumplings and instant ramen far too long. "Well, if there isn't anything else you need…" Shikamaru stared at Amaya's slender, tensed back and realized for the first time that she was shaking very slightly.

"I'm fine," she sniffed, "I'm just a little emotional, right now."

"I can see that," Shikamaru muttered, earning himself a scowl. It was a ridiculous sight – a tiny girl who wasn't much older than him sticking her hands on her hips and glaring. With her wispy blonde hair and screwed-up face she looked more like a bloated toddler pitching a fit than a young woman. "I mean, I can see you're upset," he amended quickly. "Anyway, I was just about to…"

Amaya launched herself at the younger boy, burying her face in his chest. He felt the wind get knocked out of him in a ragged gasp as he collided with her pregnant belly. He held her shyly for a few minutes, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words. Hell, it wasn't really his style, but what was he going to do, let this poor knocked-up girl work herself into hysterics?

"Look at me," wailed Amaya and Shikamaru felt the wetness of her tears, seeping through the fabric of his shirt. "I never used to be this pathetic. I wish you could have met me before I had this thing."

Shikamaru pulled her back to arm's length and looked her determinedly in the eye as he repeated, "This thing?"

"This baby," she clarified, hiccupping slightly. Thankfully, Shikamaru could tell that her tears were already beginning to subside. Amaya gave him a tiny, wistful smile and rubbed her stomach. "I hope you're still around when it's born."

"Don't say that," Shikamaru groaned, backing away and picking his knapsack off the floor. "I might not be around much longer."

"At least stay for dinner," Amaya joked, blocking the door with her belly, "Then we'll see from there. I'll convince you to stick around, just you wait. It's no good for a boy to be wandering around without a mother."

"I already have a mother," Shikamaru said without thinking. When he realized that he'd actually given something away about himself, he almost bit his tongue. They stared at each other in silence, Amaya's expression thoughtful. Then she hmm'd and walked back to the stove, giving the rice an overdue stir with her wooden spoon. "Of course you do," she said over her shoulder. Shikamaru slumped into a chair, hoping that by allowing her to feed him he could get her to drop the subject. "I know I'm not old enough to be a mother to you anyway," she continued, "but I wish I could be because I'm here and she's not."

"I'm going to be a good one, you just wait and see," she told him firmly when he didn't say anything.

He sighed, "I know you will be. I don't need to stay around to see that."

Conversation turned to lighter topics over dinner. They discussed Shikamaru's construction job, which launched Amaya into a long-winded tirade about reasons her husband, Nobu, should work construction instead of being a fisherman who was "always running off and leaving his wife and unborn child to fend for themselves."

Shikamaru nodded and agreed with as few words as possible as he wolfed down the stir-fry Amaya had prepared. Hysterics aside, she was a really good cook. Better than his mother, anyway. Although there had been this one dish she used to make when he was sick – chicken and dumpling soup. It was nothing like the sweetly synthetic ones he ate everyday for the sake of convenience. Thinking of that soup, especially on the anniversary of his departure from home, Shikamaru felt more homesick than he ever had in his life.

He almost considered telling Amaya that it was his birthday today. He knew that she was only 22 and it would be fun to tease her about being only two years her junior. But she would probably make a fuss or, God forbid, some sort of cake that he would be expected to eat. He shuddered at the thought of her singing happy birthday to him as they sat alone in her apartment. She already knew enough about him. She was the only one who knew his real name, for instance, because he'd foolishly let that slip as well.

"Your hair's getting awfully long," Amaya commented, interrupting his thoughts, "When's the last time you had it cut?"

"I don't know," he ducked as she grabbed his ponytail, "Hey, let go!"

Amaya gasped as the twine snapped and broke, allowing his hair to fall. It really had gotten long, Shikamaru noticed with surprise. Cutting his hair was just one of those things that had fallen to the wayside since he left the Leaf.

"Sorry!" Amaya pressed the broken twine into Shikamaru's motionless hand. "But since I've got you here…" She got up and grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer in the small kitchen area of the apartment, moving with relative grace for a girl four months pregnant. Shikamaru knew exactly how far along she was, of course, because she was always telling him every last detail of her pregnancy whether he wanted to know or not. He almost never wanted to know, but she continued to tell him even after he began dropping hints that she should find some nice, female friends to discuss these things with.

Before he knew it, she was snipping away at his hair, which had grown past his shoulders, and he was letting her. He put on a show of hating it, but the truth was it felt good to be taken care of after so long. And his hair was beginning to look a little ridiculous.

"Done," she announced after about fifteen minutes. At one point during the haircut, she had turned the radio on and it now played lightly in the background. It made the place seem a little less isolated. "Was that so bad?"

Shikamaru glanced at himself in the mirror appraisingly. He rarely, if ever, wore his hair down and he didn't like it. His hair was always getting in the way and getting in his eyes. Back when he'd first left the Leaf he'd considered wearing it down on a daily basis, to disguise himself a little better, but it was too much of a hassle to be worth it.

"I'll have to make a new hair tie," Shikamaru grumbled, looking at his profile in the mirror. Behind him, Amaya giggled.

"You really are vain, aren't you?"

"Thanks for the haircut," Shikamaru smiled genuinely and turned to the tiny girl who wanted so much to take care of him, "and dinner too. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

As he finally trudged up the stairs a few minutes later, thinking longingly of his bed, Shikamaru realized that today was one of those rare days when he would see one of the other tenants out in the common area of their building. Mr. Suzuki, the only son of the elderly couple on the second floor, was walking down the stairs, muttering dully to himself. When he saw Shikamaru he looked startled for a second and paused as if to speak.

"Hi Mr. Suzuki," Shikamaru said tentatively, "Did you want something?"

"Oh hello, Isamu. I didn't think I'd run into you."

Shikamaru nodded. It was a fair enough prediction. They'd only seen each other a handful of times since Shikamaru moved in and, even then, it was usually in the morning when they were both leaving for work.

"It's a good thing I did," Mr. Suzuki added, "A young man asked me to give you a message if I saw you."

"A young man?" Shikamaru repeated, his mouth going dry.

"Yes," Suzuki told him indifferently, "He said had something to discuss with you and he'll be waiting upstairs."

Shikamaru's eyes darted up the stairwell to his third floor apartment. He briefly considered making a run for it. It being, quite possibly, his life.

"Is something wrong, Isamu?"

"No, nothing," Shikamaru said weakly, making his way up the stairs, "Thanks for giving me the message. I'll see you around."

His interest piqued by the boy's elusive manner, Mr. Suzuki lingered on the second floor landing a few more moments and as he watched the youth trudge up the last flight of stairs, he couldn't help but think he looked like a man headed for the gauntlet.