Disclaimer: the Naruto universe and the characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
The Uchiha District
Excluding the distant chinking of dishes and the quiet rustling of wooden figures being moved across the shogi board, the inner Nara courtyard lay in perfect stillness.
Summer was going on autumn, and the sun might have lost its heat, but the abundance of light was still filling the garden and freely spilled over the wooden porch.
Shielding his eyes from the slanted sunrays, Shikamaru made his move. Pausing for a second, Shikaku countered and the younger Nara frowned.
Father and son exchanged their draws in silence, one of them placing his planks with untensioned calm, the other one following the game with a lazy frown. Shikamaru didn't actually believe he would win this match, just as he never believed he could before. Playing shogi with his father was more of a habit than a real competition.
Sometimes, while Shikamaru would unenthusiastically drag the planks around the board, trying only as hard as it was necessary not to be accused of bluffing, Shikaku would start a conversation. And sometimes, Shikamaru would think the old guy made this talks only so that his wife couldn't accuse him of not spending quality time with his only son.
This occasion wasn't an exception. Shikaku spoke.
„Any news on the Uchiha boy?"
Shikamaru's eyes turned to his father's face. Shikaku's neutral expression matched his nonchalant tone.
„None that I know of. But Naruto's on the lookout, not me."
„Hmm", Shikaku's throat made a deep sound, as he deftly broke the boy's defense. Shikamaru observed the loss of his bishop with boredom.
„Maybe you could get back into it. Your brains would help the search."
Shikamaru frowned, and the grimace had nothing to do with the failure of his attempt to bypass his father's defense.
„They'll do just fine without me. After all, 'my heart' isn't exactly in it."
Shikaku looked up. „What does that mean?"
Shikamaru lazily pushed a rookie forward. „It means I'm not exactly thrilled about wasting my time on running after Sasuke, especially since it would all be futile anyway. Sasuke won't be caught if he doesn't allow it of his own free will. And something tells me that's not gonna happen so soon."
Shikaku made a move without looking at the board. „You don't like Sasuke." It was a statement more than a question.
The course of the conversation was starting to get on Shikamaru's nerves. „No, I don't." He slapped a plank on the board. „I'm not keen on making friends with traitors."
Shikaku gazed at his son's averted face. He examined it for a long time.
„That's good." A move. „I wouldn't expect anything else."
„Then what's with the questioning? Mendokusai", the boy frowned.
Shikaku easily deprived Shikamaru of another figure, and scratched his beard.
„I remember the night of the Uchiha massacre," the man stated.
Shikamaru, who had just been considering whether to give up or keep up the pretense for another move, paused.
„It wasn't just one family. It was a whole miniature village."
Shikamaru went through with his move, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good.
„I wonder what you would have done in Sasuke's place."
Shikaku's son tsked. „Che. I wouldn't run out of the village to seek power from a maniac. You can draw the final move – I see the outcome."
Shikaku didn't budge.
„Even if all of your relatives were killed?"
Shikamaru sighed. „Never. It's a stupid plan. He would have had his chance if he had stayed in Konoha, anyway. This way, he leaves himself open to being used by Orochimaru, and can't count on village's help anymore. A stupid move. Why are you asking, would you like me to follow his example?"
Shikaku closed his eyes and moved the last plank. „Iie, son. I wouldn't."
„Good. Then see you later." The boy stood up, and left his father's cross-armed figure to sit on the porch.
„Shikamaru, go fetch the water. I have to clean this up a bit," Yoshino sighed and ordered.
It was Konoha's Memorial Day, and the men and women of the Leaf Village flocked to the grand graveyard to honour their dead. A heap of wreaths grew on the Hokage's tombstones, and the smell of incense filled the air.
The Nara clan joined in and walked to the resting place of Shikamaru's grandmother. Yoshino impatiently clicked her tongue at the leaves and twigs that the wind scattered over the white marble. She had got to her knees and began wiping the surface off of the nature's litter, before she remembered she had two impassive men to employ in the task.
Shikaku cut the boy's lazy protest short. „Son, do as your mother tells you." Shikamaru frowned at the obvious sucking-up, but dragged himself to the tap anyway, mumbling under his voice along the way.
He bent over the tap, letting the clear water fill the dirt-stained pitcher, and glanced over the vast space.
White marble glittered in the sun, and people slowly walked around the graves, kneeling to pray or replace the last year's flowers with fresh ones. The children chattered and ran around, hushed and shushed by their parents.
It was peak time at Konoha's graveyard and the liveliest it's going to be in a whole year, he smirked.
The water dripped over the edge, and Shikamaru grabbed the pitcher, straightening himself up.
He could see his parents, small in the distance. Shikamaru sighed, and shifted the pitcher's weight to his other hand. Off-days sure were fun.
The young Chuunin slowly set out on a return, deciding to take his time.
He noticed that there weren't many people standing in that part of the grounds. He was, in fact, the only one.
His eye lazily drifted over the messy, unattended gravestones. No flowers, no vases, no incense. Just a bunch of broken twigs and rotting leaves.
'What? Foreign shinobi?" He checked the carved names.
Shikamaru ceased in his tracks, and lowered the pitcher. A few drops escaped and silently landed on the grass. His feet stood still, and his mouth fell a little.
The abandoned graves stretched on as far as the eye could see, and they all had the same family name etched into the stone. The name and the date.
Shikamaru's eyes widened, and raced for his parent's images in the distance.
His mother squatted over grandma's grave, fussing about the mess, and Otousan stood beside her, his hands shoved in his pockets. For a moment, there weren't there.
For the briefest, horrible moment – his parents had been replaced by two tombstones, and Shikamaru's heart-beat doubled its speed.
Shikaku wasn't looking at his wife.
The Jonin stood half-turned towards him. Their eyes met across the field.
'It can't be...!'
Shikaku's calm, unsmiling look assured him that it could.
Shikamaru's feet get going, and they brought him to his family and carried him out of the burial grounds, but the heavy feeling followed and hung onto him for a day.
A/N – I hope this oneshot makes sense. I was pretty tired when I decided to post it.
I would like it to make sense, because the idea behind it is important. Not the idea of vengeance (I firmly believe that the only thing vengeance can achieve is make the situation hundred times worse), but the idea of standing in another's shoes for a moment.
Thanks for reading. :)