Disclaimer: I don't own no Naruto.

Pairings: Slight ChouShika

Hello there! After, what... two years? I've come back bearing new fanfiction. My fandoms now spread far and wide across the manga spectrum, and this is the first Naruto fanfiction that I've posted here. Albeit a very odd pairing. Whichreallyshouldbecanon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Onwards!

Chasing Sunshine

Prologue

Mnemonic

Chouji and Shikamaru were sat on a steep grassy hill overlooking the village, watching the day draw to a gradual close. The sun glanced off the many windows, making the tight cluster of pastel-coloured houses sparkle like an abstract piece of jewellery. The sky stretched, fathomless, far beyond the black peaks of the mountains, clouds bursting out of the blue like stuffing through a ripped mattress.

The contemplative silence between the two was broken only by the slow, rhythmic noises of Chouji chewing, repeatedly cramming fistfuls of chips into his already overstuffed mouth. Shikamaru, as always, was laid on his back, gazing at the sky in a state between sleep and wakefulness.

The evening had reached that brilliant moment of gold and amber before the day sinks to meet the black horizon. The clouds meandered their gentle way into infinity, fading where the sun blazed too brightly. The air itself smelt soft and warm, of rich red flowers in full bloom, mown grass and wet paint. The insects hummed in the dainty green cloisters of tangled grass and twigs.

They were younger then, indulging in the pure happiness and innocence of their lives, lost in endless days of play and laziness. Shikamaru was smaller, rounder, his face and body having yet to acquire the leanness and sharp contours of manhood. Chouji, however, was as plump as ever, as if his body was bursting with the luxurious cream and sugar he consumed daily. They were opposites, it was fair to say. But, as in all conflicts in nature, one would never be whole without the other.

'It's getting late,' Chouji sighed. He drew his finger across the bottom of his empty chip packet, gathering the last of the crumbs and salt onto his sticky finger.

'Yeah,' answered Shikamaru slowly, making no sign of moving from his soft pillow of trampled grass.

Chouji crumpled the packet into one hand, examining it with brow furrowed in disappointment.

Looking up, he surveyed the village, the clustered buildings like brightly wrapped boxes of delicious candy, the walls the colour of sugared almonds. In the distance, the warmth petered out into the dark forest beyond, where crows argued menacingly. The mountains cast deep shadows over the spiny treetops, a cold, all-consuming gloom. Chouji shivered despite himself.

'I wish that every day could be as nice as this one,' he remarked suddenly.

Shikamaru's head lolled to one side, peering at his friend with one half-lidded eye.

'D'you think that every day will be like summer?' he continued, addressing the question to no-one in particular. The birdsong began to die away, leaving only the sad sigh of the trees as they shivered in the breeze.

Shikamaru stretched, joints popping with the effort to sit up.

'Ow. I'm so stiff,' he yawned plaintively, rubbing his neck. Chouji liked the salt from the corners of his mouth. He shook his head and got to his feet, helping Shikamaru as he did so.

'You've got grass all over your back,' Chouji remarked, smoothing the stray flecks of green and brown from his friend's shirt with the palm of his hand. He felt with one brush the rigid blade of his shoulder, with another, the large, undulating beads of bone that made up his spine. He touched the graceful arc of his neck, the nape converging with the first sweep of inky hair. Shikamaru laughed and squirmed away.

'Cut it out Chouji, that tickles!'

Chouji's clutched his wayward palm to his chest, grinning awkwardly. He wondered if beneath his own skin, pale and too soft and unattractive, his body could be so faultlessly crafted. He felt like a bulging, lethargic caterpillar next to such natural and effortless perfection.

Shikamaru crept closer and peered inquisitively at his friends face.

'You're thinking too much again. I can tell.'

Chouji shook his head vigorously, feeling distinctly embarrassed.

The last of the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and the moon emerged amongst the stars like a blot of white on a page of black ink.

They edged gingerly down the hill in the darkness, clutching at each other when they stumbled on patches of loose, sun-blanched earth. The hill levelled where a tight thicket began, leading into the gardens and shadowy back alleys of Konoha. They scrambled through it, up and over a tall wire fence (Chouji managed this with surprising agility), and into a tiny, endlessly winding street that replied to each footstep they made with redoubled volume. At last, they emerged onto a colourful boulevard crammed with restaurants. Each venue was brimming with patrons, the tang of meat and beer and smoke emanating from each brightly-lit doorway. The open kitchens, blazing with fiery light in the darkness, sent noise and steam billowing into the night like some sort of bizarre dragon.

'I can see my dad over there!' yelled Chouji over the clamour, pointing to a gigantic red-headed man sat astride a sagging stool, surrounded by a jostling crowd of friends and colleagues. They approached him, buffeted by the adults reeling about the street.

'Dad! Hey, dad!'

The large man turned, and upon seeing his son, opened his arms with a booming shout of joy, seizing each of them in turn in a crushing, all-enveloping hug.

'There you are, my little soldiers!' he gushed, beaming with alcohol-warmed affection. His colleagues laughed and smiled appreciatively.

'You see?' he roared, turning to them, 'isn't Chouji here turning into a perfect reflection of his old man? Built like a fortress, just how a real fighter should be!'

'Y'got that right,' giggled one man, face masked and outlandish silver hair spilling over one side of his face. A smaller, gangly young man with a pained expression and a faded scratch across his nose nudged him warningly. Chouji flushed and stared hard at the ground.

'And young Shikamaru Nara! How is your father, my lad?' the man blustered, unaware of the jibe, throwing back his head to take another hearty swallow of his drink.

'He's very well, sir,' replied Shikamaru politely, with a small bow, 'at least, well enough to cope with my mother.'

The huge man's bulk rippled with laughter, and the company followed suit. He wagged a finger playfully in Shikamaru's direction.

'Now, now, young Nara. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! Be mindful of you say that sort of thing to!'

'Yes, sir,' smiled Shikamaru, bowing again.

'Now, then,' shouted the man, turning back to his friends, 'how about we move on for another drink?'

The collective cheered and got to their feet with a cacophony of scraping stools.

'Farewell my lads,' the man smiled, embracing them again, 'get home safely tonight!'

With that, Chouji's father rose and disappeared amongst the jostling crowd.

'C'mon,' said Shikamaru, tugging at Chouji's shirt, 'let's go back before it gets any later.'

Little more than ten minutes passed before they arrived at Shikamaru's doorstep. The house was huge and old, a lantern-lit veranda overlooking a sweeping meadow. Beyond lay the dark forest, where the moon peered over the trees like a strange, milky eyeball.

Shikamaru crouched as he removed his shoes, while Chouji rubbed his arms vigorously, warming himself up from the onset of night-time chill.

With a sudden slide and crack of the door, a pale, hard-faced woman materialised with a broom in one hand, sporting a dirty apron and a sour expression.

'Honestly, child, you'll be the death of me! I was worried sick about you being out so late at night!'

'Yeah, yeah,' pouted Shikamaru, tugging at his other shoe without looking up.

'Don't take that attitude with me, Shikamaru!' squawked the woman, smacking his back with the broom, 'you're as bad as your father!'

Shikamaru rolled his eyes at Chouji, who smiled apologetically in return.

'Shouldn't you be off now, Akimichi?' enquired Shikamaru's mother sharply.

'Y-yes, m'am!' he replied hurriedly, and turned to make a quick exit down the path. A delicate hand caught him by the shoulder.

'See you tomorrow. Say, how about we go some place different?'

Shikamaru's mother had stalked back into the house. Chouji glanced warily at the door, then smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

'Maybe… the lake?' he suggested in a conspiratory whisper.

Shikamaru smiled.

'Yeah, the lake. Bring some swimming clothes, OK?'

Chouji paled slightly, but nodded again.

'Right. 10am, lake. Got it?'

'Got it.'

Shikamaru smiled again. Chouji noticed how his teeth were very straight, and white, and slightly transparent like clouded glass. The dark haired boy stepped inside the door, and gave a little wave, accompanied by a mouthed 'bye!'. Chouji waved back, and waited until the last slither of light vanished as the door closed softly.

Beaming to himself, he took one look back at the house before bounding down the hill and across the shadowy meadows.

Well, that's the end of the prologue folks. Hope it was a good one!