The Surprise, a naruto fanfic

This is a piece that I wrote for enjoyment - my own and that of my readers. It was not my intention for it to seem realistic, nor is the text in any small manner related to the genuine plotline of 'Naruto/Shippuuden'.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of 'Naruto'. That is a privilege that belongs solely to Masashi Kishimoto.

Tagline: Hinata loves surprises. They're supposed to be fun, aren't they?

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The fact that she is pregnant comes to Hinata as a surprise.

First of all, she's surprised because, well, she's pregnant, and then, even more galling, she's surprised because she was actually naive enough to expect anything less. How many times had they had sex without protection? She can't even remember.

This is how it is:

Sometimes, he will barely bother to shower after training; he'll find her, he'll strip her, he'll perform that little trick with his tongue that is uniquely his and that would be it, her legs would be wrapped around his back. Sometimes, it is even less than that; his pants will be pushed to his knees and hers to the floor before she can blink. His visits, naturally, are varied; she'll see him day in, day out, when she's menstruating, when she's training, when she's crying over Naruto, or when she's crying over Temari, who is always suspended between them, invisible yet painfully there.

When they're alone together she doesn't think that he imagines himself with her, for he says Hinata's name and looks into her eyes directly. When he slips into her he doesn't turn his gaze away, or focus into the nothingness of white-washed walls, but stares pointedly at her as though he wishes her to know exactly who is doing this to her, who it is who pleasures her. All of this, and he's never told her that he loves her. She doesn't know what to think anymore.

And now this, this surprise, of which she must tell him - he deserves to know, she can't keep it a secret forever - just as Temari has returned and he is finally smiling again.

She wonders where to start. Really, she's stumped, even though she's already told her father, which is probably why she is here right now, camping beside Sakura, who forsakes the warmth of her bed to comfort her friend, whose own has been cold for weeks. Sakura does a good job of concealing her shock. Together, they each crisps and sweets and all manner of pointless things once Hinata is hurried inside from the drizzle, things the she, specifically, shouldn't be eating. That doesn't stop her, though, because she thinks of him and what he's doing with someone else and dissolves into tears again. To clear her mind of all the hurt, she recalls precisely what he'd said:

This isn't serious, you know.

It shouldn't have been, and wasn't, at least for a while. But then he'd kissed her, and touched her, and it had become impossible not to take it seriously. Unfortnately for her. Hinata supposes that this is just how he is, although it may not be obvious. She'll lie awake at night and wonder what he'll be doing, if he's remembering her as she remembers the faint smell of cigarettes about him, the silver rings through his ears which she fiddles with when they sleep together. She doubts it.

She'd tried to express herself to Naruto, she still hasn't stopped loving him. Yet it has dwindled, somewhat, into a constant affection that is there, but not there. Nothing has ever occurred between them.

She doesn't protest when Sakura puts her to bed, as though she were a little girl again; instead she pulls the sheets up beneath her chin and falls asleep without a sound. There is nothing else for her to do, nowhere else for her to go.

Even Naruto isn't here anymore.

"Do you ever want to have children?" Hinata said, as they sat beside one another and did nothing but talk. She loved moments like these - just the two of them alone, and the still air of the night. She loved that she could speak of such things to him and that he would answer her.

"Of course I do," Shikamaru replied, exasperated. "You know that. One girl and one boy."

She did know that; she wanted to bear them for him. Did he know that?

Again, the evening had been hot - so hot that the flannel of her shirt adhered to her skin, dampening by her breasts, emphasising them. She hadn't worn her brassiere, leaving herself as naked as she could be to him, hoping that he'd notice her.

And Shikamaru was not an idiot. If he had been an idiot, like Naruto, he would not have noticed her tiny nipples as they pebbled, rising before his very eyes, and nor would he have noticed the long swathes of cream-white skin leading toward them. If he had been an idiot, he would not have slept with her during their last meeting. As it was, he was not an idiot. He intended to sleep with her again.

He watched her lips as they quivered against the rim of the tall-glass, remembered them moist and hesitant against his own, or against other parts of himself. Each memory was equally pleasant. She truly was quite lovely; different from Temari, yet beautiful nonetheless. Especially her eyes. The Hyuuga eyes. They were intimidating on Neji; nothing short of astonishing on her, glittering behind their thick curling frames. At that moment, they stared into the dregs of what she was drinking.

"I want to have them, too."

"Hmm?"

"Twins."

"You have twins, alright."

"Shika-"

He silenced her with a kiss.

Hinata eats an ice-cream one afternoon a week later, all alone and still terribly hot. She hasn't seen him yet. She hopes that she won't vomit what she's eaten, because the heat is overwhelming and she doesn't think that she'll be able to stand it if she does. If she is sick, she knows that she won't be able to visit him today.

She has Sakura's place to herself now, for an assignment has taken Hinata's medic-nin friend into Kirigakure with Kakashi. Hinata likes to spend her time there reading, or showering when the day becomes too warm. Sometimes she cooks for herself, applying effort to her meals, listing ingredients from a pregnancy booklet that Sakura has given her to help her. This is quite pointless; she is able to maintain nothing, has steadily lost weight. Usually, she passes the mornings sleeping, upon Sakura's futon, and once, in the bathtub. It is a choice between that or retching.

But today Hinata wants to be outside. Hinata needs to be outside. She takes care to avoid the Hyuuga settlement, a fair distance from where Hinata herself resides; she doesn't want to risk crossing Hanabi, or, far worse, Neji, who know by now that she is expecting a child. Hinata can imagine what they will say if they were to see her, large and round and unable to conceal herself - if not immediately, then soon; You don't deserve to be one of us anymore. It doesn't bother her as much as it should.

She finishes her ice-cream and leaves, walking to the library where she has asked for a particular book to be set aside for her. There are children everywhere as she arrives, sitting before a woman who is perched onto a stool, reading aloud from a story-book with coloured pictures. She asks for her request, a visual guide throughout her trimester, equipped with disc, pausing to smile at a little boy who is fat and soft and utterly adorable, who holds the hand of his mother, clutching within the other a purple plush toy. The woman's hand displays a silver band - a wedding ring.

At home, Hinata cries. She bleeds herself dry of tears before she washes her face and decides to spend her evening cooking. To save her friend the trouble, Sakura has arranged to have groceries delivered to the unit daily; a box of fresh milk and bread, of fruits, rice, vegetables and nuts, of fish fillet and eggs is placed outside of her door every morning, with the delivery man instructed to collect the empty packages every evening.

She boils water to pour herself a cup of tea, which is just about the only thing that she can drink without heaving into the sink. Hinata butters a pan to fry the fish, steams carrots, peas, and broccoli to accompany the rice, prepares eggs to combine everything into a stir-fry. She has an appointment scheduled with an obstretrician for the following afternoon, and is unwilling to forgo both her dinner and her breakfast.

She is eating when somebody, insistent, unhesitant, knocks upon the door, disrupting the quietude that has settled, that she has come to enjoy. "Wait, please," she says, to still the thudding - of her own heart and of the other person's fist. She hurries to the door, opens it.

Temari is waiting at the other side.

"But won't she be upset?" Hinata asked, quite upset herself. The weather was terrible - unbearably cold. It is almost too cold to stop them making love. Almost. But now that the lingering afterglow had faded, Hinata felt the guilt come flooding.

Shikamaru sighed. "Look. Temari knows not to let something like this hurt her." He reclined against the bed, watching her clip her underclothes into place, draw her panties to her hips, inwardly wanting to burst into tears (probably). Shikamaru knew this; she'd done it before. He lit a cigarette as she fussed about her hair - which looked perfectly fine to him - fussed about her dress - which, when it wasn't clinging to her shoulders and hiding her breasts, looked perfectly fine to him - and fussed about her odour, which, frankly, was enough to knock him flat; sweat, smoke, sex, and vanilla cream.

The tiny shape draped with the brown coat heaved a waterlogged sob. Shikamaru remembered the heat between her thighs, the heat from her mouth; there was heat everywhere. "I'm sorry, Shikamaru-san. I should never have come here."

Now, that was a lie. He'd been forging a friendship with her for months, meeting her for coffee, meeting her for the first time as a young woman at the bookstore where his father had ordered a medicinal dictionary; Shikamaru would be lying if he'd said that he hadn't wanted to be with her. And, if he recalled correctly, she'd never denied him. This was their first time together. Well, actually together. He certainly had no regrets.

"Why the hell not? We're sleeping together, not getting married," Shikamaru replied, and it was true. "This has nothing to do with Temari."

"How can you say that?"

"It doesn't. She and I aren't together when she's not in Konoha."

She stopped for a moment, breathing. And then she said to him:

"What about me?"

"What?"

"What about me? What am I going to do when Temari is here?"

"We'll deal with that later. Now, come here."

She came.

She wastes no time to greet Hinata. "May I come inside?" Her voice is brusque, sharp.

Hinata's stomach clenches, her mouth dry. "O-of course. Please, do come in." She knows.

"Well, I think it's obvious that I'm not here to chat," Temari begins, although her features soften, the grimness loosens, as Hinata's eyes begin to cloud. "I'm going to ask you one question, and then I'll leave."

Another surprise. This one, not so welcome. The Sand Nin's fan is set aside with a click, her throat moistened with a swallow. Temari is beautiful - she has never been anything less. Hinata cannot - she does not - blame him for loving her. She has eyes that are so large and deeply green, a pallor to her skin that is flawless. She wants to prod her to see if she is real, and not a statue.

Then,

"Did you and Shikamaru sleep together?"

There is no point to lying. "Yes. We did."

Temari sighs dejectedly. Whether her eyes water, or whether they glimmer as a result of the glowing light, Hinata cannot tell.

A long moment passes, where neither of them speaks, where Hinata is content to merely draw air into her lungs. "Who told you?"

"He did. Shikamaru doesn't lie to me, Hinata. He's never lied to you, either." Temari is reproachful, scolding.

"I know that. Th-that wasn't what I meant," Hinata replies. "I'm surprised that you're here."

"Why is that?" Temari asks.

"I thought that you'd hate me."

"I can't say that I'm happy."

"We both love him, then," Hinata says.

"Yes," Temari agrees. "I do. As to Shikamaru himself, I cannot say."

"There is something else that I need to tell you," Hinata says, wincing. She breathes deeply. "I'm pregnant."

Silence, choking her, choking her baby.

"Have you told him?" Temari says finally.

"No. I haven't."

"Then you must. As soon as you can. I know how much he cares for you. I won't let you keep his child away from him," Temari says, so angry that Hinata is shocked.

"Do you honestly think that I would do that?" Hinata cries. "I would never keep him out of his baby's life!"

"I wouldn't know. But I'm telling you this; I won't have you hurting him, or hurting his family, Hinata. If you won't tell him, then I will do it for you," Temari hisses, and there is an earnestness to her voice that corrodes the threat and replaces it, instead, with the love that she harbours for him.

"I will tell him. I will," Hinata says. "I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow; I'll tell him then."

"Yes, you will, because if you don't, I will."

The gel is deliciously cool against Hinata's skin, but her bladder is fit to explode. Timidly, she asks the nurse for a bathroom break, and is courteously rejected - just a little while longer, please. She curses the water that she was told to drink.

The entire debacle lasts no more than fifteen minutes, during which she is gently prodded, rubbed, touched, and firmly ordered to relax so that an accurate ultrasound may be taken. Hinata thinks that this is easier said than done, and says so. The doctor chuckles, and asks her if she wishes to know the gender of the child.

"Isn't it a little early?" Hinata asks, perplexed.

The doctor, a woman who is perhaps thirty, and whose name is Yukie, raises her eyebrows. "Early? You're four months pregnant."

"What?"

"Didn't you know?" Dr. Yukie says. "I would've thought that your period, or lack thereof, would have been a somewhat straightforward sign."

Hinata blushes as realisation dawns. "It's always late; especially with training..."

"Ah. You're a kunoichi," Dr. Yukie replies. "Well, that explains it, I'd say. However, I would strongly advise against further training until you've delivered the baby."

"Of course. I haven't even lifted a kunai since I found out," Hinata assures. "To be honest, I haven't even noticed a bump."

"Naturally. The child is quite small," Yukie says. "When did you find out, may I ask?"

"Six weeks ago." Small?

"Six weeks," the doctor says. "That, I admit, is truly odd. Be that as it may, I'll schedule another appointment for you, just to be sure. I don't like that you've progressed so far without medical attention."

Dr. Yukie shifts through the papers upon her desk, producing a pen. "How does Thursday sound? Nine o'clock?"

"That is fine," Hinata says, "I'll be here."

"Excellent," Yukie replies. "Now, as to the child's gender. I could tell you, if you'd like."

"Yes, please." Hinata has never truly believed that knowing the nature of a baby truly robbed motherhood of any of its sweetness; no, she would much prefer to know, and to prepare. Pink mittens for a girl, a green cap for a boy, white socks and yellow shirts.

"It's a boy."

Her eyes brim with tears. "A boy?"

"Oh, yes. Ten fingers, ten toes, and everything else that a girl wouldn't have. It's a boy, all right. Congratulations."

"Thank you." Hinata is already thinking of potential names. Hiroshi? Hiroshi had been the Hanabi's toy bear. It was a pretty name for a child; a perfect name for a man.

A perfect name for a son.

"Shit. A baby?"

Hinata presses a hand to her belly. "Uh huh. A baby."

"You mean...our baby?"

"Yes, our baby! Who else's!" Immediately, she regrets her tone.

"Right." He scratches an ear. "Sorry. So..."

"So?" Hinata echoes.

"When did you find out?" Shikamaru finally sighs, eying her midriff as if to gouge the size of the child nestled there. Or, as if to see if there actually is a child.

"Not too long ago," Hinata answers him. "A few weeks."

"A few weeks!" The smoke from his cigarette streams from his nostrils; he hastily stubs the remainder of it into the concrete bowl of the fountain beside them. He is angry, Hinata can see. "A few weeks," he repeats, "And you tell me this now?"

"I'm sorry."

He groans loudly, attracting stares from passersby. She'd called him that morning to arrange this - now that he is here, she does not wish to permanently sever her relationship with him.

"Shikamaru, please! This isn't easy for me," Hinata says, refusing to cry.

"And it is for me?" Shikamaru replied dryly. "It's never supposed to be easy, Hinata, when you're going to be a parent at nineteen. It doesn't work that way."

"I know that, and I resent it. But there's nothing I can do about it now."

Shikamaru begins to look extremely uncomfortable.

"Well? Say something," Hinata says. The sun shines into her eyes, and she lifts a hand to shield them. If she sits very still, she is able to feel the faintest tickle of watery movement at the base of her abdomen, behind the hard curve that it has become. It reminds her strangely of the bees that land upon the bright flowers of spring, drawing nutrients from their pollen, just as her son draws nutrients to sustain him from her. My son.

For a long time, Shikamaru is silent, just staring at her. She wears a shirt that is pale green and loose, billowing outward by her stomach. He can guess why she chose it. Her shorts are white, her sandals oatmeal-coloured. The rosiness to Hinata's cheeks is deeper, her hair silkier and down by her shoulders. She's even painted her toenails a soft shell pink.

"Do you know what it is?" He asks finally, curious.

"Yes."

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"Oh." Hinata flushes. "It's a boy. A baby boy - four months old."

"A boy. That's - hey! Four months!" Shikamaru exclaims, his eyes wide.

"I couldn't believe it either. He's very small, though. But don't worry. He's perfectly healthy." Her face brightens immediately as she speaks of him. She shows Shikamaru the picture from the ultrasound, pulling it out of her bag, pointing unabashedly to the baby's privates. She's already bought clothes and socks, she says, and ordered a crib. All that's left is for her to find a place to live. There's a vacant spot above Sakura's apartment. Hinata is thinking about it.

"Have you thought of a name?" Shikamaru says.

"I have, actually. Hiroshi," Hinata tells him, speaking openly.

"'Generous'. I like it." Shikamaru smiles at her. "So, can I feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The kicking. Your arm's been across your lap for ten minutes."

She laughs, grasping his hand to mould against the bump that has steadily begun to form. She can eat now; the noodle vendor across the street from the park where they sit is beginning to look more and more alluring. She is gaining weight. Two weeks have passed since Temari's first visit. The Sand Nin had been to see her a second time - to remind her to tell Shikamaru - before she leaving the village.

When he walks her home that evening, after he's bought her an ice-cream and a stick of dango with mitarashi, he kisses her lightly and she tells him that Temari knows as they stand outside her door.

"She knows," Hinata explains. "She wanted me to tell you. Actually, if it hadn't have been for her, I probably wouldn't have told you at all."

He isn't shocked, as Hinata had expected him to be. Instead, he grins. "You would have waited until I'd returned from a mission and seen you fat as a little piglet at Ichiraku's?" He doesn't mention Temari once, but she knows that he is grateful. He jokes with her, before holding her close.

"I want you to be there, Shikamaru. I want you to be a part of this baby's life," Hinata says.

"What makes you think that you can stop me?"

Exeunt.