Disclaimer: Naruto is written and illustrated by Masashi Kishimoto and is published in Weekly Shonen Jump. All rights to the material belong to them and any other related parties, not me.

A Lazy Bird

"Chirp. Chirp."

Daylight came to the Land of Fire, awakening the people of Konoha. Early risers began to leave their homes, putting on shoes and reaching for their keys. Shops switched their signs from closed, to open, and the sounds of life could be heard. Yawning ninjas switched places with others more bright-eyed, signaling the end of the night shift. A new day had begun.

Yet in a village which ran like clockwork, whose residents took pride in seizing the new day from beginning to end, there were those who preferred to sleep just a few minutes longer.

Morning sunlight streamed in through an open window, falling gently upon a young man's sleeping visage*. Loose black hair framed a relaxed, angular face. Content to remain there, neither sound nor movement ushered from the bed save for soft sounds of breath.

If left undisturbed, the young man would most likely have remained in such a position for several hours. Alas, such a thing was not fated.

"Oi, Shikamaru," came the soft, whispered voice of a woman. "It's time to greet the new day." The shape within the bed stayed still. "Honey, it's time to wake up and join your team. The early bird catches the worm while the lazy bird misses out, and I have a feeling that today is going to be a great day for you," the feminine voice continued.

"Mmmff," was the young man's reply. Whatever he said was lost in translation, for it was in the tongue of men, the morning grunt.

Dissatisfied with this reaction, the voice came again. "Oh Shikamaru... if you don't wake up for me, I'll ask Ino and Choji to do it in my stead." The sleeping form failed to even twitch at this motivational threat. "Do you really want Ino to see your inner fantasies again?"

"Mwa."

Displeased by the lack of response her warning had received, the woman's voice came again, no longer soft and gentle. Instead, the voice now sounded as sharp as a kunai and as hard as a rock. "Shikamaru, if you really want to do this the hard way, I'll just get my scissors and chop off your ridiculous hair. You'll look just like you did when back when you were little and were too lazy to put the lid back on the toilet."

Hearing this, the sleeping form began to gasp and thrash around in bed. Yet despite this even more dire threat, the sleeping man still refused to wake. It was only when the young man felt something metallic brush through his hair that he finally awoke. "Here I come my little darling..."

"Fwa! No! Devil mother, get away!"

With a startled yell, Shikamaru's eyes flashed open as his upper body shot up in his bed. What was I dreaming about? Something about clouds, the soft smell of loam... and scissor wielding, mind flaying Inos? While Choji sat on top of him and laughed? Oh, shit. Those jumbled thoughts led to one of two conclusion. Either Ino was still angry at him... or Mother.

Peeking at his mother through half lidded eyes as he held his hair with both hands, Shikamaru studied the situation. Was Ino present? No. Was his mother present? Yes. Did she currently possess a pair of scissors? Inconclusive. Shrugging, Shikamaru let out a yawn – and promptly got smacked across the head.

"Eh, mom..." he said while flopping back down, "why do you have to wake me up this way every time I spend the night at home?" Shikamaru covered his eyes with an arm and groaned in frustration. And why do I have the urge to kiss a rabbit?

A black scowl he could hear in her voice greeted him in reply. "Because you're as lazy as your father!Now get up out of that bed and take a shower. You didn't clean yourself up after that last mission of yours and I refuse to allow your smelly body into my kitchen."

Shikamaru groaned. What did I do to deserve this?

Bustling about his room, Shikamaru's mother fully opened the blinds of his three windows, letting the sun shine into the room in all of its early morning glory. Shikamaru's lidded eyes followed out of habit. In the dawn's light she glowed, appearing calm and serene. If only it were true, Shikamaru thought to himself. Then my life would be so much easier. Irksome women and their menstrual cycles

Shaking his head and muttering, Shikamaru stretched his body out and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. That last mission had been a difficult one, and the exhaustion that had overtaken him the night before still clung to his brain.

Closing his eyes while yawning again, Shikamaru prepared to stand up. When he fully opened his eyes, though, all he saw was his mother's face. Except this time she looked positively furious. Shit. One second calm, the next second furious. Why?

She smiled at him, and in a voice coated with honey, said, "If I ever catch you making another sexist remark like that in my presence, I won't just whisper threats into your ear while you sleep. I'll find little Ino, that Sand girl Temari, and them loose on your entire wardrobe while I personally shave you bald. Got it? Now get up and do your stuff. I'm off to wake up your slack eyed father."

Smiling, Shikamaru's mother then patted her son on the head and walked off with a new spring to her step. Shikamaru followed her with his eyes.

Clouds, my loved ones, and my life. I would miss you all.

Paralyzed by the mental image of his head without hair, Shikamaru watched her leave. It a full minute before Shikamaru finally felt strength begin to return to his limbs.

Groaning yet again, Shikamaru finally stood up and cracked his back. "If that's going to happen, mother, I'll be taking dad down with me."

He stripped his vest off, and as it fell to the floor, intoned "That which is visited upon one male member is visited upon all male members." Thump. His mesh shirt hit next. "The Nara man code."

And with that thought held firmly within his mind, Shikamaru unzipped his pants and prepared to greet the bright day in front of him.

End

A/N: I hope that you enjoyed reading. It is intended to be the first of multiple one-shots, possibly leading up to or interweaving with a greater story some later date in the future.

Until later.