Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Pairing(s): ShikaTen
Warning(s): Rated T for some vague sexual innuendo. Also this is my first fic in years, and my first of the pairing.
Inevitable
by: Purple Rabbit's Foot
The Godaime is not happy. She just finished reading Shikamaru's report on his previous mission. Zero casualties.. so far. She could still remember Genma bursting into her office, announcing Team Shikamaru's return, and their severe condition: Kurenai found the Nara bloody and staggering at the gates of Konoha, on the verge of passing out, with both his unconscious comrades slumped on his shoulders.
Tsunade's caramel eyes flicked to the Chuunin in front of her, and they softened at the sight. The Nara's clothes hid most of the bandages, except for the one around his right palm, and the other around his left wrist. On his face are a myriad of scattered scratches and different colored bruises. Despite her sympathy, the Hokage strongly approved of the quickness of his recovery and his determination in accomplishing his pending responsibilities. Seven hours after regaining consciousness, Shikamaru limped to her office, handing her the report. She wants nothing more than to dismiss the child and let him rest, but business is business. "Let's make this quick."
He nods solemnly, understanding the sentiment, "Yes milady." He did not bother to hide the wariness in his eyes and the weariness in his posture. Even if he tried, he knew he could fool no one, especially not the woman before him.
"Lee and Ino's cases have stabilized." Nara sighs in relief, his wariness easing a tad bit, "But they're still unconscious. We are trying our very best."
He tries to smile, but it never quite reached his eyes, "I understand, milady. Thank you. And," He looks down, voice filled with remorse, "I am.. sorry."
"No, Shikamaru. You've done more than what was expected of you." She smiles, more warmly than what he managed, "Thanks to you, the Memorial Stone stayed untouched on that day." Her face grew serious once more, "These cases of misranked missions are escalating at an alarming rate. It's not just costing us revenue, but also our shinobi's safety. Once you've recovered, I'll be needing you to discuss strategies regarding this."
He couldn't agree more, "I'll be available tomorrow.."
"Nonsense." She waves him off, "Report to me at 1PM on Wednesday. Take tomorrow off, I insist."
He nods, "I'll start drafting ideas tomorrow. Thank you, milady."
"Now go home and rest."
The cool Monday night air pranced around the moderately busy streets of Konoha. The buzz is created mostly by the closing of stores. The sound of people bidding each other good bye and/or good night, the staff's complaint on how tired they are, the clanking of ceramics and utensils as they are being cleaned up, and the blaring sound of water surging through different faucets. It's the soothing hubbub that embodies all that is menial.
The Nara thinks it's all he's ever wanted. Maybe he's right, maybe he isn't. But in this moment of desolation and helplessness, it's all he could wish for. How long has it been since he last had this feeling? Asuma? Probably, but that was definitely worse. Way worse. His hand made its way to one of his pockets, absent-mindedly searching for something.. Ah there it is. A customary sense of comfort sets in as he feels its sleek surface against his bandaged hand. He clenches his fist around it, feeding on the steady, dull ache, and squeezes tighter.
The building's stairs seemed endless, even longer than his walk from the Hokage's office to his current destination. The silence was deafening, suffocating. His thoughts are all twisted together, reverberating in his head, but none the least bit coherent. It's all too direly familiar, and the protocol beckons to be followed. That mission marked it, and now that the situation allows it, the inevitable will be brought upon. He stops on the third floor, enters the 4th door to the right, and comes back out. He trudges back to the stairs, clutching something with his left hand; up he goes, silent and sluggish.
Three steps from the rooftop door, he draws a stick from the pack he was holding.
Two steps, he puts it between his lips.
One step, he lights it.
Swift and fluid, like he's done it before. Of course he's done it before. He basks in comforting familiarity. This scent of burning paper and tobacco accompanied his growth in maturity as a shinobi. It had always been understanding and smart, easy going and fierce. It produced excellent shinobi out of the most unmotivated Genin team in their generation. Ino, whose only motivation was boys; Chouji, whose only motivation was food; And him, who has no motivation, period.
Shikamaru exhales and forms small Os with the smoke, eyeing each one as they all slowly deform into nothing. He was so engrossed in his current activity that he barely missed someone else's presence in the vicinity. Keyword is missed, though. He did not turn right away, although he could tell that the stranger is already aware of his presence. He watched the figure in his peripherals, unsurprised to find it curiously staring at him. Before he could turn to its direction, it spoke, "You still smoke, huh?"
It was definitely female: rich, thick, vaguely sultry, and of course, familiar. "Tenten?" He knew what she meant. Everyone else knew about Hidan.
"Rough couple of days, huh?" She utters as she reduced the gap between them, smiling sort of wistfully as she skillfully snatched the stick in between his index and middle finger, with her own two. He half expected her to throw it out, but she didn't. Quick and smooth, he notes as he watches her. Unfaltering from the moment she thieved the cigarette from his hand, to releasing it from her lips. The show isn't over yet, Shikamaru scolds himself, and observed as she formed an O with her lips, and started her own parade of tiny Os.
Her eyes cracked his glass ball world, as they made a sharp turn from the night sky to his own, but they never fully shattered the trance. He's stuck between two worlds, his coherency waiting for him at the other side. The problem was, although it's breaking, it's definitely taking its time. Slowly, gradually, steadily.. he was motionless, and all he could do was wait. Out of nowhere, a kunai pierces the sphere. Thick and heavy, rich and vaguely sultry. Familiar. "I'm glad you're fine."
The thoughts came rushing in, and he felt like the receiving end of a waterfall. "Thank you." He notes the slight moisture in the filter as he draws another waft of smoke. Quite sheepishly, he starts, "I'm sorry.." It was his time to make a turn from the sky to her eyes, those warm, chocolate brown eyes, "For Lee."
They inevitably grew lonelier, but harbored none of the contempt he expected, "Shouldn't I be thanking you for that?" She offers a sincere, yet tentative smile. "There is more than one way to look at things, Shikamaru." Her smile widens, "And I'm telling you, no worries. We are shinobi, and we know the code. Trust Lady Tsunade. Do not mourn for the living just yet. Trust in Lee and Ino." Her eyes shifted to his hand, and he knew just what to do.
He flicks the discarded cigarette butt before lightly thumping the bottom of the pack with his lower palm repetitively, until two cigarettes stuck out. She grabs one, and he pulled the other with his mouth. He flicks the lighter open, jerking the wheel to create a small flame. He offers, and she bends her head down in acknowledgement, replenishing the the air with the scent of burning. He figured she wasn't the type who filled in every silence with needless chatter. He would have been grateful, and simply basked in the solemnity of the situation, if not for the few things he wanted to know, "Do you live here?"
She blinks, as if surprised at his initiative, and nods, "Apparently we're neighbors now." The tiny twitch in the Nara's eyebrows nudged her to explain, "I moved in a few days ago," She pauses, half berating herself for hinting on an already closed subject, "I asked the landlady if there are other shinobi in the building. A few names rang a bell, but yours were the loudest." She winks. "I take it this is your spot?"
"I don't smoke regularly." She caught him, so might as well spill, right? "Just when.." His eyes drifted to the moon, unable to find the words that would best fit the situation. A sudden weight on his arm halted his search for the right words. It was her hand, supple and precise, always knowing when and where to strike. Always hitting its target. Bullseye. He knew it was unnecessary to continue what he started, for she understood. "How about you?"
She smiles, "Just about a year after our first Chuunin exam. I was young, dense and dispirited." She chuckles to herself, absentmindedly withdrawing her hand, "It was supposed to be my outlet. A way to help me focus and think. A secret that housed all my other undisclosed thoughts and emotions." Her smile dims significantly, "But over time it evolved into a habit." She paused and stared at him. He doesn't say anything, knowing she's not done explaining yet, "It didn't always mean anything anymore. Most of the time it's just to satisfy the craving. Nothing more."
"At least tonight's not wasted." She glares at him half-heartedly, chuckling lightly as she shook her head. It was a bad joke, he gets it, but something he doesn't entirely regret. "More than one way to look at things, remember?" He winks at her, as he raises the burning stick to his mouth.
"My, my, you're a fast learner, aren't you?" He discerns something different in her voice-something else mixed in. "You are a genius, so I shouldn't be surprised." Melodic. That's it. Vaguely sultry and melodic. But when? Shikamaru contemplates, When she's amused? No. He figures he needs more information to prove his inference, and he wouldn't mind seeing more of the brunette in order to come up with an acceptable conclusion.
They fall into comfortable silence once more. It wasn't long, though. Just two or three more puffs before they reached their last. Noticing this, Shikamaru raises his hand to eye level, slightly angled to the woman beside him, "For Lee and Ino."
She smiles approvingly at the gesture, "For Lee and Ino." She draws the stick closer to her mouth, then stops, "And for you." Time slowed down for the Nara as he watched the kunoichi seal her toast with a light suck on the cigarette's filter, burning what's left of the paper and tobacco. His eyes fixated on her lips as he anticipated her release. The smoke seamlessly flowed from her mouth, and he examined each detail, each curve, with such vigor. It danced with the wind with such grace, as if knowing that it's the final act, that such performance for the sake of art and beauty will lead to its demise.
He could've gone on and on in his glass ball, if not for that darting kunai once more. "We better go." She drops what's left of the cigarette, and crushed it with her foot. "Cheer up, alright? We already have enough sulky geniuses in Konoha." And she started walking to the direction of the door, but stops when she hears deep and resonant chuckling from behind her. Looking back, she beams, Mission accomplished.
Author's Notes: Wow I actually made it. Tell me what you think, alright? I'm weighing on making this a two-shot, or maybe more. I've been having a few ideas in my head lately, so we'll see. I'll mark it as Complete for now, since it can more or less stand on its own. Til next time, folks. Cheers!