War.
Katanas clash overhead; the constant metal on metal sounds becoming one continuous bellow intergrading with the repetitious wisps of shuriken tearing past the engrossed figures, and the insidious crackle of explosions enfolding into columns of destruction and black smoke.
War.
The symphony of reverberations seamlessly morphs into an atrocious melody; one of sorrow and anguish, it's jagged sounds saturating the now barren landscape with a ominous quality.
War.
The soldier's tortured senses protest as their cries of ire become lost amidst the motion of comrades and adversaries; the mind and body sluggishly succumb to the conviction of death. All previous fragments of glory, of heroism-gone; obliterated, incarcerated by the unceasing wailing that is the battlefield.
"War." Shikamaru said softly to himself; hands grasping the fibers of the bleached white sheets covering his lower body.
The word burnt his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth. I caused his mostly healed wounds to sting under the tightly wrapped bandages. Letting out a deep sigh, he rested his head against the cool cement wall and stared out the hospital room window over the dilapidated village. No matter the amount of work; the blood; the sweat; no progress seemed to be made. It was as if the village would remain timeless; a looming reminder of all that had happened.
"We won," Shikamaru thought to himself, "but they sure as hell left their mark."
His jaw clenched.
"Damn them. They knew they stood no chance, so they figured they'd leave behind this chaos. Now we're stuck cleaning up this shitty world. Those bastards!"
Dust escalated as his fist slammed against the wall. He rubbed his eyes to remove the water beginning to pool in them and chocked back the lump in his through. The psychological toll of past events had caught up to him; controlling himself wasn't as easy; he wasn't the same, and therapy wasn't helping. For a month it was required that he talked to a therapist, and for a month he thought it worthless. With the many patients and soldiers needing help, one man was all that was left to take on the job.
Shikamaru shivered at the thought of the man, "Go ahead, ask me how I am, I dare you to." He thought. " Of course I'll tell you I'm fine or I'm okay or fill you in on some insignificant fact about my shitty day that's been nothing short of redundant. "
Stomach muscles clenched beneath his flesh and his ears grew hot.
"He doesn't really care. I can see it on his face; in his eyes. I can hear it in his voice; like an empathetic recording; like he's looking to do no more than check a fucking box on a fucking list of things he has to ask." He concluded.
He knew he needed to calm down; get away from his thoughts, and get out of his desolate room. The longer he stayed frustrated the higher the risk grew that his wounds would open back up. So he stood- legs wobbling and head dizzy. Two days had past since he last left his bed, but the tiles were cool against his feet and acted as a surge of energy. He covered his torso with a dark green tee-shirt; being careful not to strain his weak muscles as he pulled it down to the shorts he already had on, and slowly left the room.
He wasn't allowed to leave his room yet, and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to be wandering around unattended, but he paid no mind to it. He politely dismissed anyone suddenly assigned to watch him, and ignored staff members trying to escort him back to his room.
"Sir!" a deep voice bellowed from behind him, "Sir, you were not permitted to be out of your room yet. For the sake of your health I insist that you go back to your room eminently!"
Shikamaru turned slowly to look over his shoulder. "How troublesome." He thought with a sigh.
"Do you know who I am?" Shikamaru questioned.
He turned his body to fully face the man. He could tell the man was a doctor by his long coat. Shikamaru's eyes glanced back up to meet the gaze of the doctor's in a rather intimidating fashion. There was a pause; Shikamaru waiting for the answer, and the doctor being taken back by his unknown patient's rebel attitude.
"Well if I could see you patient forms then I'd know," the doctor began, "but that would require us going-"
"I'm Shikamaru Nara; as in part of the Nara clan; as in, my parents as well as other relatives supply this hospital and many other medical facilities with stock and knowledge of new break troughs in the world of medicine. I don't mean to be disrespectful but I think I've been taught to know my own body well enough to know that I'm okay walking around for a bit." He countered, cutting the man off.
The doctor stood motionless in the hall. He became flustered; the man in front of him kept his stern stare and the staff around him went from silence to hushed whispers. The doctor straightened his posture and pushed his glasses up his nose and into place.
Shikamaru sighed once more before turning to continue on to his destination.
"You make a good point," the doctor began, "but for the sake of your health I still insist that-"
"For the sake of my health, and inevitably yours, I insist you leave me alone." He announced in an annoyed tone.
He turned the corner. It wouldn't take him to where he wanted to go, but it would get him away from the irritant of the doctor. For the time being, that was good enough for him.