A/N; This has no Beta.
Disclaimer: All rights belong, and are reserved to Kishimoto, and/or their respective owners. I do not own anything Naruto related.
A lifetime of memories
The house was uncharacteristically full of dust, and he had been confined to sitting on the porch, for the sake of his 'old lungs'.
He smiled.
He knew very well that really, the only reason he had been dismissed was because his 'old bones' kept getting in the way. Well, he didn't blame his children; after all he had only wanted to peruse the keepsakes, the memories, the treasures.
His children and grandchildren were endeavouring to actually 'do something', that was 'clearing out the place' as they had so kindly put it; preparing for the wake in only a days' time.
He flicked a shogi piece with his fingernail, just about. The stiffness of his fingers, his inability to move them, had been becoming more and more apparent these days, and only three days before his wife had nagged him about seeing a Doctor, or a medic.
"They can give you some pain relief, medication, even some healing. There is only so much your familys' old remedies can do to sate it, Dear."
"It fine, it's old age. It's not too painful; I've had worse over the years. You should know that."
He heard her sigh. "You're so stubborn."
"Stubborn, hmm. You're one to talk, Wife."
"Well I would have to be, to have been married to you as long as I have!"
"Troublesome…"
She grumbled, setting the book down she had been reading, and scooting closer to him, pulling her purple shawl tighter around herself in the process. Wordlessly she took his hands, a special light and warmth began to emit from her own.
"Promise me you'll see someone soon, I can't do this every time your hands stiffen up. I'm old too, you know."
He simply nodded, as she placed his hands back in his lap, returning to her book in stoic fashion, as if she had suffered no interruptions. He however moved even closer, placing a reassuring hand at the small of her back. She leaned into him with a contented sigh, and he kissed her temple.
"Thank you."
The elder Nara heard a rattle of something that made him jump, and the screen doors were pushed open, his youngest daughter in law appearing. She had tea. That made him grin wolfishly at her.
"For me, Ami? You shouldn't have."
"I thought you would like some, sitting out here in the cold. It's shizuoka, your favourite blend." She smiled, though he didn't need to be a genius to tell it was forced.
She set the tray down next to him then shifted uncomfortably, not really knowing what to say. With some difficulty Shikamaru lifted the cup without his speckled, wizened hands shaking too much, and spilling any.
"Do not feel pity for me girl, it is quite unbecoming. As a Shinobi I learned long ago that when it is your time to die, it is your time to die."
He hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly. He observed the tears that were beading the corners of her eyes. He also realised his old senile mind hadn't comprehended that she too, would be upset.
"Sorry Ami. What I mean to say is, things being what they are, and what they were. We have lived good long, rich lives."
"You have." She nodded in response, wiping at her eyes. "Actually, I've just found…"
She sprinted back into the house, and Shikamaru watched her enviously. Once, he would have given anything to be one of the clouds he so liked to watch, to drift aimlessly and not have to overexert himself in anything. Now he would give anything to regain the full use of his frail body once again, and do exactly the opposite. The irony was not lost on him; he sipped at his tea bitterly.
She returned moments later with a cardboard box no bigger than his shogi board, one he couldn't recall ever seeing before, it looked far too 'new'.
"We found it under your bed."
He reached for it, recognising the perfect hand of his late wife, the neat writing that even age had never managed to tarnish.
For you Shikamaru, our life time of memories.
He blinked. So the old crone knew all along. He smirked, of course she did.
His trembling hands lifted the lid, and sat on the top staring up at him was a picture, an old one. Cracks like white branches ran through the center, but the two subjects in it, were just about discernible to his aged eyes, bringing a grin to his face.
It was the day he first met Ino Yamanaka...
His Mother tugged mercilessly at his collar. "It just won't lie flat!" She complained loudly.
A disgruntled Shikaku Nara peered over his newspaper. "Try not to strangle the boy Yoshino, he is my only son after all."
She rounded on her husband. "Well, you better hope I don't come over there and strangle you! You haven't made a single move to go and get ready yet!"
"I am ready."
"Oh?"
She raised an eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips, Shikamaru knew his father was in trouble now.
The young Nara boy stared down at his clothes with a scowl. What was she playing at? He was dressed in what she had deemed his 'best', the shirt he liked…it was a new one, with the Nara assemble on, he always liked wearing 'those' shirts…but his brown shorts…they itched from misuse, and that annoyed him. His new sandals squeaked when he walked too, he wanted to change into his old comfortable black pair.
"I want us to all make a favourable impression on the Yamanaka's, and that means looking presentable. And that includes you, Shikaku!"
"I see Inoichi Yamanaka nearly every day, he is well aware of how I present myself."
The look he received back was truly terrifying (at least in Shikamaru's mind) and his Father stiffened, ruffling the newspaper. His Mother on occasion he had noticed, was able to produce a certain kind of 'aura' that the little boy could only describe as, 'demonic'. His Father sighed submissively; it seemed he was finally giving into his harpy of a wife. Shikamaru watched as he began to climb the stairs with his shoulders slumped; Shikaku, completely unaware that he was subconsciously ingraining an intense dis-liking of 'troublesome women' into his son, at an early age.
The boy was suddenly aware of a wet comb being dragged through his locks violently and he cried out in surprise, stumbling backwards.
"Keep still." Commanded his Mother, grabbing at his shoulders to steady him.
The smell of the heady perfume she seldom wore was assaulting his nose; he didn't like it… or her strange painted face. Her lips and eyes were too dark, it made her even more terrifying looking, menacing even.
"Troublesome." He muttered under his breath.
"What was that young man?!"
"Nothing…"
"Hmph."
The hair that now reached his shoulders was pulled roughly and tightly into a pony tail at the back of his head, secured with a leather throng.
"There. You look just like your Dada!" She squealed proudly.
The doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of the much anticipated guests, and his Mother began patting at her hair frantically, in the nearby mirror.
"Shikaku hurry up and get your lazy ass dressed, they're here!" She ushered her young son along into the hallway. "Now be polite, Shikamaru."
The door opened and a tall man stood there.
At his age, and more importantly his height, Shikamaru was used to being an observer of legs. You could tell a lot from a person from the way they walked. Their gender from example, whether they were young and whether they were old, even what kind of profession they worked in. If you really squinted and tried hard enough, you might even be able to see a scar or two, and confirm they were in fact, a shinobi, like his Pa was.
This man's legs though…had a much shorter, skinnier pair that wore knee length brown sandals; wedged between his two longer ones…did this man really have four legs? He stared in disbelief.
"Hello Inoichi, Misaki."
"Hello Yoshino." The two strangers chimed back in unison.
As if caught by some invisible force, his Mother's head spun round to face him in a pretty good impression of a snake. "Stop staring Shikamaru, it's rude!" She barked.
When her back was turned, the young boy wrinkled his nose in irritation. He had learnt long before, that there was just no use in arguing with a woman like her.
"Where is she?"
The man chuckled. "Come out, Princess."
Shikamaru felt the colour rush to his face in an instant, as the skinny pair of legs stepped out from behind her Father. There stood the strangest looking girl he had ever seen… In truth, the only 'girls' he had actually met before (being confined to the Nara compound all his short life) had been his two cousins, and they were dark eyed and dark haired like he was. But…
This one stepped out in a whirl of pink and purple. Her short hair shone, it was almost white, unnatural…and her eyes, they weren't even looking at him, trained on introducing herself to his Mother. Humans... normal people weren't supposed to have eyes like that, were they green or were they blue? They were iridescent.
"Hello! I'm Ino, very pleased to meet you!"
Her voice was musical, and high pitched.
"Oh my god! She's adorable!"
A few more moments of fawning over the new comer, and they had all entered the house.
"Shikaku!"
"Don't worry, we're pretty early Yoshino." Replied the girl's Mother with a smile.
"Hi. You must be Shikamaru. I'm Ino."
She shimmied on her toes innocently, hands behind her back.
"I know."
He still couldn't explain why the colour kept rising and falling from his face whenever she talked.
"Shikamaru, why don't you take Ino and go and play outside in the garden?"
It wasn't a suggestion really, more like an order.
"I bet I know the way! My Dada always says I'm such a clever girl!" She announced loudly.
Shikamaru felt himself being unceremoniously dragged, as her warm soft hand squeezed his. He stared up at the back of her unnaturally pale head, as a chorus of 'awwws' sounded behind them.
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"Troublesome…"
XxX
She was also unfortunately, the most annoying.
"So! I'm going to be the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful kunoichi in the village!"
"Right..." He gave her another half-hearted push on the swing.
"What do you plan to be when you grow up, Shikamaru?"
"A shinobi, like my Pa."
"Is that all?!"
He pushed her again, blushing at the contact this time. What did she mean by all? What else was there to do? He wanted to become a shinobi, that way he could do what he wanted to. He just made a vow with himself never to make the same mistake his Father had made, of marrying a complete nag for a wife.
"Push me higher Shikamaru!" She demanded, kicking her legs out in frustration.
He complied with a put upon sigh.
"Hhhhhiiiigher!"
"I am!" He quipped.
"You're not very good at this, are you?"
He glared at her retreating head, and gave her one last exhaustive push when she swung back towards him, collapsing on the dusty ground behind her. She could push herself now. "What a troublesome girl…" He muttered to himself, leaning back to look up at the clouds. Oh how he envied them at times.
Something suddenly fluttered by in his field of vision; it was a butterfly… a red one.
Hmmm, he frowned as it swam near his nose. He'd never seen a red butterfly in the Nara compound before, there was nothing for them to eat there, his Father had told him so once before. He would occasionally see white butterflies; they fed on the bush clover, but red…
He watched the tiny creature, struggle against some unseen enemy, beating its crimson wings relentlessly as it drifted towards Ino. He was getting tired just watching it; he'd hate to have to be a butterfly, it was far too much like hard work, as lives went.
Ino was slowing down on the swing now, and following what the young Nara was watching, the fragile thing looped, and landed delicately on the rope of the swing, inches from the blond little girls face. He half expected her to grab at it, being the impatient, bossy girl he now knew her to be. But instead she stared at it for a moment; a sweet smile graced her rosy lips.
"My Mama says there are threads of fate connecting us to everyone we meet, but that a special thread, a red one - is connected to the person we'll marry."
"Hn." Girls talked so queerly sometimes, but with her abnormal looks and very white skin, Shikamaru wouldn't have been surprised if she said she were an alien. "So?"
"N-nothing! I'm just saying!" She bit back, blushing furiously.
The butterfly flexed its wings, threatening to take off again. She was such a strange girl, he decided.
"We were born in the same hospital, on nearly the same day, you know."
What did that have to do with anything?
"I think all those flowers you sniff in your shop, have gone to your head."
A hand flew to his mouth in shock; he really hadn't meant to voice what he was thinking out loud…The butterfly took off, outraged.
She turned, and narrowed her unusual eyes at him.
"Don't insult my flowers! I bet you can't name them all by their Latin names, and know what each of them symbolise!"
Why would he want to?
"It's your turn on the swing!"
She hopped off stealthily, and he was dreading the manic glint her eyes now, she was planning some awful pay back. He picked himself off the ground reluctantly, walking round and sliding onto the wooden seat. It was best not to argue with women, he was sure of that. She gripped one side of the rope tight and grinned an evil grin at him, drawing her arms back, when…
Snap!
The picture was taken.
They both looked up blinking, to see his Mother standing ten feet away, a camera held up to her face.
"It's adorable! They were even smiling at each other! I can't wait until we can snap a photo of all three, with the Ackimichi boy too!"
The pair of them rubbed their eyes against the painful flash.
"Say, Shikamaru…?"
"Hn?"
"Will you be my friend?"
He considered the proposal for a second.
"It's troublesome, but ok."
"By the way..."
She reached for him, trailing a finger across his shoulder. Shikamaru burned scarlet in an instant, goosebumps forming where she touched. He'd never been this close to a girl before...
"Your collar needs straightening."
A/N; Another old fic, which I am determined to improve/finish this time around. Review?