The tree leaves swayed gently as the warm summer breeze sighed through the forest, nudging the foliage tenderly as it made its way onwards, further into the village known as Konoha. The deer grazed serenely, and the birds and bugs chirped cheerfully as they went about their lives, creating a calming background music that pervaded the clearing. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, and on the springy grass, a small child could be found sleeping in the shade.
It was peaceful.
And then, the content atmosphere of the forest was disturbed. The deer twitched their ears as they glanced around warily, the birds suddenly quieted, and the bugs scurried away.
Dark eyes sprang open and stared unseeingly for several moments, before clarity appeared in a rush. The nearest deer shifted, sensing…something, although they could not pinpoint what it was that had disturbed the forest so. Those dark eyes took in their surroundings swiftly, sweeping back and forth in an automatic movement so quick, that the appraisal in those irises was gone as soon as it appeared. The young boy registered that he was alone, and then allowed himself to look down upon his hands.
Unmarred, un-calloused skin that covered a small palm; clearly the hands belonging to a child that had lived a life free of hardship.
The boy gazed at his hands a moment longer, before he stood up and brushed the grass off of his damp clothes. He looked around the clearing that he found himself in, running a hand almost longingly over the rough bark of the trees, eyes filled with nostalgia as he looked upon the deer, and heart uplifted by the warm summer sunshine that caressed his face as he glanced upwards.
Tears appeared, and the child released a choked sound – a laugh – before that laugh extended and it bubbled, unbidden, out of his lungs. His head was thrown back as he rejoiced freely, tears of happiness swimming in his eyes.
The wildlife was disturbed, but the deer could sense that this child of the forest meant them no harm, as he had always done, and so they returned to their grazing. The birds were less intelligent and flew from the trees, but the dark-haired boy paid them no mind as he caressed several low-hanging, green leaves, as if they were the most precious things in the world. His fingers brushed over them like they were made of glass, and should he touch them too hard, they would shatter into a thousand fragile pieces.
Glancing once again through the forest canopy, the child smiled up at the sun.
He had done it. He was back.
As the leader of the last survivors of the great elemental nations wept tears of joy and relief, he simultaneously felt fierce, ferocious triumph burn through his veins; the sensation so strong it was like his blood had lit itself aflame.
Nara Shikamaru had succeeded.
And now – he would win.
Victory at any cost, to prevent the tragedy that would befall the future, Shikamaru was prepared to do anything.
Anything
His tears and laughter wound down, and a frightening darkness stirred in the pit of those eyes, replacing the joy that had existed before it. Had anyone been there to look upon the young Nara, they would have been disturbed. It was an unnatural look upon a child so young, an expression that didn't belong upon such a youthful face.
A look of pure hatred. The savage desire to kill.
He would kill them all. Every last one.
Hidan, Kakuzu, Sasori, Deidara, Kisame, Konan, Nagato.
Obito. Zetsu.
Itachi too – if he got in his way, regardless of his loyalties.
Shikamaru was not Naruto. He could not talk anyone into giving up their lifetime view of the world and work together with former enemies. Shikamaru could only destroy them methodically, with merciless logic and brutal tactics.
Maybe that was why – in the end – Naruto was dead, and Shikamaru was alive.
Despite the cruelty Naruto had faced his whole life, he was a kind person, had always been a kind person.
Shikamaru was not.
Five and a half years after the Kyuubi attacked Konoha, in a clearing with only nature as his witness, Nara Shikamaru vowed to destroy his enemies.
To hunt them unceasingly. To stop for nothing.
To never rest until he had purged every trace of them from the world.
As a young child, the son and heir of the Nara clan head, Shikamaru had been very sheltered. He hadn't had any friends before the academy, the only things he'd done was suffer through the lessons his mother had forced on him and lost at shogi to his father, all the while wasting his days away as he lazed about.
These habits were useful to him now, since it wasn't unexpected for him to disappear into the Nara clan forest for the whole day, before dragging himself back in time for dinner, lest his mother come and hunt him down.
There were no more lazy naps in the shade.
Instead, Shikamaru spent his time improving his aim, increasing his stamina and working on his chakra control. There was so much to do; his body was practically untrained, his chakra reserves pitiful, and his reflexes near non-existent.
Dinner was had with his mother – his father normally worked late – and Shikamaru would nap until his father did come home. His body was still young and needed the rest after he pushed it beyond its limits each day in the forest. After Shikaku had eaten, they would play shogi, Shikamaru careful to show 'improvements' every time they played. Frightening improvements, but Shikamaru was a genius. His father wasn't expecting normal.
Still, after each game, Shikaku would eye him with that dark, penetrating stare, so similar to his own, and Shikamaru would wonder just how much his father saw.
But Shikaku said nothing, and so Shikamaru kept his silence too.
Night came and Shikamaru lay awake, a small nightlight that he had dug out of the attic shining dimly in his room. He hadn't had a nightlight since he was a baby still in his crib; Nara do not fear the darkness – they lived in it, thrived in it.
But it was useful now for the shadows that it cast about his room, the dark shapes familiar and comforting. Shikamaru formed his hand seal – he hadn't needed hand seals to form his shadow for years, but now they were necessary – the already black shadow at his feet darkened further, and he moved it through increasingly complicated patterns.
With his small chakra reserves – his spiritual energy was brimming, but the physical energy of his tiny body was miniscule – his jutsu didn't last long. While the Nara clan jutsu relied more upon Yin chakra, it still needed Yang to manifest in the world and latch onto people. He would need to find a way to harness his spare Yin energy, it was a resource too useful to waste. Genjutsu came to mind first, but amongst his enemies were the Uchiha, and so he would have to consider what he would learn carefully.
But for the moment, Shikamaru exhausted himself quickly, and drained of most of his chakra, he laid down on the unfamiliar softness that was his unfamiliar bed that he hadn't slept in for years.
His muscles ached, his chakra was gone, but his mind was wide awake, whirring through plans and contingencies. Things he had to do, information that he didn't have but desperately needed, schemes to get his hands on that information running through his brain as he tried and failed to empty it. His coded notebook sat on his bedside table, and he inevitably gave in and wrote everything down.
It was habit by now to have a notebook beside him.
After Kaguya was defeated, Zetsu went mad, living for nothing but killing everyone who'd had a hand in his 'mothers' death. He reactivated the edo-tensei and sent all the ninja he could summon after them.
In those desperate days, when the survivors were being chased by reanimated ninja, and Shikamaru was the only one who could out-think the kage-class shinobi that hunted them, the notebook had lived by his bedroll. His every waking moment was devoted to tactics to evade and escape. The remaining shinobi revealed all the information they could, about every ninja they had ever heard of, hoping that the next one that came after them was someone they already knew the capabilities of. Shikamaru made plan after plan, contingency after contingency, and if those failed, he made new ones to gather information on their latest attackers.
Every jutsu had a weakness. Every person had something that made them tic.
Even if they were a Kage, they could fall.
And fall they did, one after another, every ninja sent after them was sealed permanently away.
But it cost them. It cost them dearly.
Shikamaru needed information to create a plan, and that information always came at a steep price. Zetsu chipped away at them, a couple dying here and there, two more to the next ninja, and their numbers slowly dropped. No matter how hard Shikamaru planned, how ingenious his plots were, how many S-ranked ninja he outsmarted – he could not save everyone.
And so, when it looked like the wave of shinobi would not end until they had all been killed, Shikamaru turned to seals for a solution. He had been the only seal-user of their group. Shikamaru's first seal that he created was the seal he used in conjunction with Asuma's chakra blades to simulate the shadow paralysis jutsu.
His second was to banish the souls of the dead permanently by sealing them forever into the world of the dead – preventing reincarnation – of either the natural or unnatural sort.
His third seal was the one he used to travel back in time.
They didn't have any sealing manuals, none of the materials had survived from Konoha after Nagato had decimated the village. They spent two years scavenging the ruins of all the other villages for anything they could get their hands on about sealing in order to increase Shikamaru's abilities.
But the biggest help he had was Naruto and Killer B's seals. Both were complex, intricate pieces of work, and Naruto's was a true masterpiece, utilizing the famed Uzumaki sealing techniques.
Ever since they had decided to go through with Naruto's desperate stray thought to go back in time, Shikamaru had thought about seals every moment he had. It had gotten to the point that he even dreamed of designing the seal, and so each time he woke he would reach for his journal and write down what his mind had come up with during the night.
The notebook was a comfort to have beside him, familiar where his childhood room was not.
Eventually, inevitably, his child body's needs would win out and Shikamaru would sleep, dreaming once again of seals.
They were so young. All of them.
Shikamaru stood watching the youthful faces of his former comrades and friends as they in turn watched the third Hokage give the opening speech for this year's incoming Academy students, and he had never felt more alone.
They were innocent. Unmarred by the horrors of the world, unknowing of the dangers that lived outside of Konoha's walls.
He had known that they would be.
It was just – seeing it in person was –
Shikamaru had entertained the thought of befriending them, of helping Naruto grow into an S-class shinobi faster than before because his strength would be needed. But looking at Ino's cheerful and bubbly smile, Chouji's painfully cautious hope and Naruto's uncharacteristic shyness, Shikamaru could barely keep himself from throwing up.
It's not like he wanted them to be the war-hardened, broken people that they had become, but looking at them now, so innocent and hopeful for the future –
No.
Shikamaru could barely bring himself to look at them, much less talk to them.
So when they filed into Daikoku-sensei's classroom – the teacher they'd had before Iruka – Shikamaru made his way to the back, completely ignoring the introductions and greetings between his classmates. Sitting down in the seat next to the window, Shikamaru pulled out the book he had taken on medical techniques from the clan library and purposefully focused on it, not looking up at all.
Even as a real child, Shikamaru hadn't paid any attention in class, so it was unsurprising that when he next looked up, it was break time already. Lunch passed in much the same way, he blocked out the foreign and unnerving sounds of children playing and laughing; he didn't look at the light blonde hair amongst the crowd of girls, the brown-haired child eating a massive bento, or the golden-blonde sitting alone on the swings.
Afternoon classes were the physical subjects, and after a demonstration, Daikoku had each child throw five kunai and would correct their form after every throw. The children from civilian families were painfully obvious to spot when compared to the children of ninjas, the difference in their throws plain to see. But even the ones with previous training were not that impressive, none of them hitting the bullseyes.
Again, Shikamaru had known of the huge difference between him and real children his age. To see it like this – it still felt like a punch to the gut.
When they came to the N's and Shikamaru was called up, he slouched forwards unenthusiastically. He eyed the five blunted kunai resting on the stump in front of him and picked them up, the blades far too large for a single hand, so he took three in one and two in the other. He turned towards the targets, five flimsy wooden boards lined up in a row.
"Ah, Shikamaru-kun, one at a –"
Daikoku cut himself off as the five kunai Shikamaru had thrown punctured their way through the thin pieces of wood, leaving holes straight through each bullseye.
"W-well done Shikamaru-kun."
The Nara glanced the academy teacher through half-lidded eyes, nodded and walked to the back of the line, ignoring the childish gazes all fixed upon him and the feeling of their disbelief and awe. The muttering and chatter started up, but by then, Shikamaru had made his way back to his spot where he picked up his book and continued to read.
When Shikaku came home for the day and asked him how the Academy was, Shikamaru had simply replied, "Troublesome." His father had laughed and patted him on the shoulder, eyes gleaming knowingly as he said Shikamaru would get used to it.
Shikamaru had rolled his eyes – because it was expected of him – but there was no annoyance inside; he was just fond, and sad. It was wonderful to see his father alive again, to spend time with him once more. But it was also terribly sad, because Shikamaru wasn't his innocent six-year old son. That child was long gone. And the peaceful days of sleeping through classes or skipping lessons while sharing chips with Chouji would never happen again.
The days fell into a routine. Shikamaru sped his way through the clan library – medical jutsu, genjutsu, official sealing guides – and dominated the weapons classes and their taijutsu fights.
Sasuke, the future traitor, hated him. Shikamaru couldn't say he cared.
Naruto may have forgiven Sasuke when he came back and fought against Obito, Madara and Kaguya, but Shikamaru hadn't. He had never cared much for him in the beginning, and should Sasuke defect again this time, Shikamaru would kill him.
But right now, Sasuke was just an annoying six-year-old who tried so hard but failed to beat him at anything. This Sasuke was so inconsequential, he wasn't even an ant compared to the enemies Shikamaru had to contend with, that he barely spared him a thought. Sasuke could sense his attitude, knew that he had been utterly dismissed and it made him try even harder.
It didn't help that Daikoku had taught Itachi as well, and rained loud praises upon the both of them, saying that he had been so sure Itachi was greatest student he would teach. To have another of the same caliber was a miracle, he proclaimed.
Inevitably, their first class test came, and Shikamaru handed his back not even five minutes after they'd started. Daikoku beamed, and after grading it – 'perfect Shikamaru-kun, one hundred percent as expected' – handed him another test to work on. Scanning over the first page, Shikamaru recognized from the content that it was the graduation test. The one meant for students becoming gennin.
He nodded to Daikoku and made his way back to his desk, ignoring the by-now-usual glances towards him and started filling it out. He finished swiftly once again, around the same time as the others had finished their test, and when he handed over his paper – one hundred percent, Shikamaru knew – to Daikoku, he felt a mix of satisfaction, relief and regret.
Shikamaru needed to become a gennin. He needed to advance in the ranks for access to information on Akatsuki, for the clearance to leave the village, and to eventually join ANBU. There was no time to lose. Every moment he wasted, Obito was carrying out Zetsu's dirty work, advancing their plans while he was stuck retraining his child-body.
It was just - happenstance that becoming a gennin meant he would be leaving the Academy behind. Leaving Chouji and Ino and Naruto behind.
He wasn't running away, he wasn't.
Graduating in a single year had only happened twice before since Konoha's founding. Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Itachi, both genii so far from the regular shinobi that they couldn't be compared.
The Sandaime had approved both of those graduations when their teachers came to him, singing their praises and saying that they would only be wasting their time if they remained with the rest of their peers.
And while that may be true when considering their ninja skills, Hiruzen felt that more time in the academy would have helped them as people.
Hatake Kakashi was a loner with no friends and was currently drowning himself in ANBU missions.
Uchiha Itachi was a reserved young man with one friend – his cousin and fellow prodigy, Uchiha Shisui.
Both came with more than their fair share of headaches, and as Hiruzen looked upon the Academy instructor raving about this latest genius, the Sandaime wondered how many headaches Nara Shikamaru would cause him.
"I see you feel very strongly about this." Hiruzen said diplomatically, in what could be the understatement of the century. He lit his pipe, puffing on the familiar wood and contemplated on what he had heard.
He wanted to deny this latest prodigy a fast-track graduation. He wanted Shikamaru to grow up with his peers and have friends – true friends – the ones that you've known since childhood and can always revel in that familiarity and trust with them.
But he was the Hokage of Konoha.
And the village came first, always.
They were still recovering from the Kyuubi attack even after all these years, and he could not say no to another genius shinobi in his ranks.
And so the Sandaime turned to one of the chuunin messengers and ordered, "Bring me Nara Shikaku."
His jounin commander, when he arrived, listened silently to young Shikamaru's teacher, dark eyes keen and watchful, in sharp contrast to his lazy slouch.
Shikaku said nothing as the academy instructor raved about his son's skill with weapons, said nothing as he retold them about Shikamaru winning every taijutsu match, and said nothing as his son's genius intelligence was praised and his perfect exam results broadcasted.
When the teacher finally wound down, Shikaku gave a sharp nod to the man, before turning to Hiruzen.
"I will speak with my son, and my wife, then let you know my answer tomorrow."
There was no doubt in Hiruzen's mind that Shikaku was telling him how things would be. And while he needed soldiers, he wasn't in any hurry to push more children out of the academy so soon. So he simply ignored his jounin commander's rudeness and gave his assent.
As the Nara clan head swept from the office, the Sandaime could only think on how different all three fathers of the genii reacted when they were here in this very same spot.
Hatake Sakumo had been relieved. He was an S-class ninja in high demand and had been worried about leaving his son alone for long periods of time. Having a sensei to look out for him put his mind greatly at ease.
Uchiha Fugaku had been ecstatic. Proud, excited and keen, he had agreed at once to let Itachi graduate that year.
Nara Shikaku – Hiruzen had known the man for years. From the time he handed his young team their first mission all the way until this very day; but even with his years of experience reading the man, Hiruzen couldn't say that he knew for certain what the Nara had been thinking.
Shikamaru knew the instant that he returned home what had happened that day. He shucked off his blue standard ninja sandals and put on his indoor slippers, making his way to the kitchen where both of his parents sat, his father quiet, while his mother beamed at him.
On the table in front of them was a slip of paper.
Shikamaru sat down opposite them and waited.
The three of them sat in silence for a while, his mother growing more and more impatient while the other two Nara sat impassively. Just as Shikamaru was sure Yoshino was going to speak, Shikaku opened his mouth.
"Why?"
Why do you want to graduate early?
Shikaku had taught his son from an early age that there was no rush in life. Things would happen as they did, and there was no point in charging forwards so fast that you didn't enjoy the moment you lived in now. He had told him that childhood is fleeting, and to enjoy it while it lasted. It had been implied that Shikamaru should stay in the Academy with his peers. And with Shikamaru's previous laziness, it hadn't been an issue.
For him to ignore all of that? To suddenly work so hard and gain the skills to graduate so early? There had to be a reason.
Shikamaru knew this, knew his father would ask him, but he hadn't looked forward to this conversation.
"I-I'm not normal dad."
Shikaku's eyebrows furrowed while Yoshino jerked upright.
"Has someone said something?" She demanded. "Called you names?"
"No, no." Shikamaru was quick to deny, his lip quirking up slightly. People calling him names was the last thing on his mind.
"I mean, that I'm different. From the other kids. I don't fit in."
This time his words were actually painful, because he had, once. He had been one of them, and with this, he was permanently giving that up. He wouldn't share the familiarity born over years of spending time together.
He would be no one. Just that kid who had been in their class for all of a month.
They might even forget him entirely.
His eyes stung.
"I want to be a ninja." Shikamaru met the gazes of his parents straight on, trying to convey his sincerity. He did want to be a ninja. He needed to be a ninja.
"I don't want to stay in the Academy."
Yoshino got up from her seat and walked around the table to wrap her arms around him tenderly.
"Is the Academy that bad?" She asked, voice thick with concern.
Shikamaru shook his head even as his small arms reached out and returned her hug. When was the last time he had hugged his mother?
He didn't remember.
"No, it's not bad. It's just – lonely."
And it was. To see the faces of his friends, to know the amazing people they would one day be but weren't right now, it was agonizing. To be stuck in a crowd and still be all alone – it was horrible.
No wonder Naruto had been so terribly lonely.
"Please don't make me stay there."
His voice was desperate, because he was desperate. If he had to stay for six years and watch them grow up, to see them slowly become closer to the people that he knew but still not be the same; he would go mad. He had only been there a month, and he could already feel the strain of having to remain around those unfamiliar, familiar faces.
Shikamaru eyed his father because he knew Shikaku would have the deciding vote between the two of them. For all that his mother was loud and shouted and tried to 'motivate' her husband, when it came to the serious matters, she said her piece, but in the end, left it to Shikaku to decide.
And his father – Shikaku looked devastated. Not on his face or in his body language, but in his eyes, there was something there that looked a lot like defeat.
He signed the paper.
That night, Shikamaru laid awake feeling hollow. There was no triumph at having manipulated his father into allowing him to graduate early. There was no guilt either. He just felt – empty.
Sending chakra to his ears, he listened to his parents speak in hushed tones downstairs.
"–not the end of the world if Shikamaru graduates early." His mother was saying. "With people older than him and more mature, he may even make some friends."
Her tone was purposefully optimistic, she was trying to remain positive in the face of his father's miserable mood. There was a long silence as his mother searched fruitlessly for something else to say.
"I wanted Shikamaru to grow up happy." Shikaku eventually confessed, voice so low Shikamaru could scarcely hear it, even with chakra enhancing his hearing. "To have a normal childhood, like I did. Yes, it was war-time, but I still grew up with Inoichi and Chouza, and we were friends. It didn't matter that I was smarter than them, we were just kids. And when we were put on a team, I knewI could trust them with my life, with everything. It's been that way ever since. And Shikamaru – Shikamaru won't have that."
The Nara heir closed his eyes.
"I should have helped him. Socialized more, I should have taught him –"
"Shikaku." His mother cut him off, her voice terribly gentle. "You said it yourself, that Shikamaru is even smarter than you were at his age. This isn't your fault, Shikamaru is just –" she searched for a word, settling on the one Shikamaru himself had used "–different. But even so, he'll be fine. He has you, and he has me. He will be fine."
It was a long time before anyone in the Nara household fell asleep that night.
In a stroke of irony, the class that Shikamaru was moved to was the class that Itachi had left. To say his new classmates weren't pleased with the reminder was an understatement. It was hard to know that some people are just so much more talented than you are, to know that in this world, no matter how hard you worked, some people were just better.
They were just kids, still insecure and maturing, and it was difficult to have someone six years younger come along and surpass your years of work like it was nothing.
Shikamaru knew this. He knew it when he defeated the best fighter of the class, Hyuuga Takao, at taijutsu; he knew it when he surpassed the extremely-hard working and clever civilian child – who had previously beaten even the clan kids – at academics with his perfect scores on the rankings.
But he couldn't stop. Not for anything.
He sat there in the classroom, nine months after he had started at the Academy, his newly-earned forehead protector once again around his arm.
"Team 7: Hidetaka Nao, Hyuuga Takao, and Nara Shikamaru."
Hidetaka Nao was the class dead-last, generally the position belonged to a boy, but this time it was a girl. So instead of the rookie of the year and top kunoichi, they had put the top two students with her. Onto team seven, the team meant for frontline combatants.
That was good. Shikamaru would never specialize in frontline combat, but those were the skills he needed to work on most now, so it suited him well to be on this team. His new teammate – the Hyuuga – was already throwing him disgruntled looks, but he said nothing. It would be a problem, Shikamaru knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care. In three months, there would be a chuunin exam in Iwa, in which Konoha would most certainly not be participating in. But the one in six months after that was taking place in Grass, and he could bear nine months with them.
He would have to.
Shikamaru didn't recognize the jounin who came for them. She cheerfully told them to call her Hana-sensei, and they all walked to a training ground in the western part of the village that Shikamaru had never been to before.
Hana clapped her hands together cheerfully as she sat cross-legged on the grass, the three of them joining her shortly after.
"So, tell me a bit about yourselves. I've been a jounin for three years now, and I specialize in kenjutsu and earth techniques. My main job is guarding people of various importance, or people who are expecting an attempt on their life, and my mission success rate is pretty damn good, if I say so myself." The cheery 20-something woman winked at them mischievously. "Your turn kiddies."
"Hyuuga Takao." The brown-haired boy spoke his name with pride and more than a little arrogance. "I specialize in my clan's techniques and hope to one day be the greatest taijutsu user in the world."
Sorry Takao, but Might Gai has you and everyone beat there
Nao shot a look towards the youngest member amongst them, and the Nara nodded that she could go first.
"I'm Hidetaka Nao. I don't have a specialty, but I hope to one day become a good ninja." She spoke a little shyly, clearly aware that amongst the four of them, her skills were by far the worst.
Hana smiled at the young kunoichi encouragingly before turning to him.
Shikamaru sighed. "Nara Shikamaru. My specialty is tactics, and I will become the greatest assassin there has ever been."
There was no change in his tone when he spoke. He simply stated the facts as he saw them.
His three new teammates stared at him, more than a little taken aback.
"Your dream… is to become an assassin?" Hana asked with disbelief, more than a little skeptical.
Shikamaru snorted. "No, that's my goal."
The jounin eyed him curiously. "So, what is your dream?"
The Nara broke eye contact and looked up at the clouds, nostalgia and longing filling him as he thought back to the good days, when he had actually believed his dream was attainable.
"To become a ninja who is not too good or too bad, marry an ordinary woman who's neither beautiful or ugly, have two kids, a girl and then a boy. I would retire when my daughter marries, and my son becomes a ninja, playing shogi until I die of old age before my wife."
"Your dream is to be an average person!? And then an old man?" Takao burst out, looking incredibly offended. "You can't be serious!"
"Then why do you want to be an assassin? And the greatest assassin? That's not very ordinary." Nao was the one to speak this time, shooting him a bewildered look.
Shikamaru softened a little at her naivety - he didn't want to be an assassin, but she didn't seem to see it - and when he spoke it was with a gentle tone.
"Dreams are nothing more than wishes. They're unattainable. That's why they're called dreams."
No one was quite sure what to say to that.
Hana looked a bit sad but said nothing and stood up, before motioning for them to do the same.
"Right then kiddies. We'll take missions and do training together for a week, and if I don't think you guys can cut it, then you'll all be going back to the Academy. If you can work together fine, then I'll keep you on as my students."
The three newly-minted gennin nodded, the elder two straightening their backs, determined to prove themselves to their new teacher, while the younger watched on with keen, dark eyes.
D-ranks were troublesome. They had been the first time around, and they hadn't gotten any better now.
Interspersed between painting fences, babysitting children older than Shikamaru himself (what had possessed Hana to pick that mission?) and delivering groceries, they worked on chakra control and polishing up their basics.
Well, Nao and Takao did. After Shikamaru demonstrated he could already climb trees and walk on water with a high level of proficiency, Hana had been a bit stumped, her lesson plans suddenly made redundant. So Shikamaru had asked her if she could help him train his elemental affinity.
Much to Ino's surprise, when they tested their affinities, Shikamaru's had been fire. She'd thought fire – the element of passion – didn't suit such a lazy, laid-back individual like him.
Personally, Shikamaru thought it suited him very well.
Before, he had been an ember. Smoldering slowly, but with the potential to be more.
Now – now he burned.
Purpose burned through his body, the flames of war lived within him and he stoked it every day, building it bigger and brighter, so that one day it would be fierce enough to scorch his enemies to ashes.
Perhaps, one day, he would burn out, like all fires do. But not today, not anytime soon. He still had things to do.
For people without an army of clones and demon in their gut helping them with the mental strain of the shadow clone technique, elemental training was tedious and took years.
Oh, any person could shoot off a fireball or create an earth wall with hand seals, but true elemental manipulation of the raw element took time, although it paid off in the end. Kakashi had been able to block Kakuzu's enormous A-rank lightning jutsu with his bare hands, and Naruto could infuse the wind with his rasengan without hand seals; that was mastery over an element.
Shikamaru had begrudgingly learned a few fire techniques from Asuma over the years, but he hadn't had the motivation to do the elemental training. He did now.
Time passed as it was wont to do, and soon enough they moved from taking D-ranks to C-ranks outside the village. Their first two passed unremarked, and it was on the third that they finally ran into trouble.
A common caravan-guarding mission, they were guarding silk traders and their merchandise. The bandits weren't unexpected, and Shikamaru had known of their presence long before they sprung their ambush.
Bursting from the trees on either side of the road, swords brandished and howling battle cries for intimidation, they would have fallen on the merchants like a pack of wolves. Instead, they were the ones to fall with a gurgle and a spray of blood as shuriken thrown by Shikamaru lodged themselves in their throats, falling like puppets suddenly deprived of their controller.
The ones to the front of the carriage and to the side were efficiently dispatched, while the ones attacking from behind were stopped by Takao who tore gracefully through them, fingers tapping and causing them to drop like flies. The last few were felled with kunai thrown by Nao, and just as suddenly as the violence started, it stopped, and the post-battle silence befell the group.
Hana spoke softly to their clients before gently taking her students aside, comforting the sickened kunoichi, sympathetic but not overly-so to Takao who was trying not to show how disturbed he was, and guiding Shikamaru to sit down and drink some water so that his hands could stop shaking.
His inexperienced body wasn't used to the adrenalin of a life or death fight and betrayed him by breaking out in cold sweat and going into shock. But while his fingers trembled and his heart thumped painfully in his chest, his eyes remained calm.
Shikamaru was a shinobi, and this?
This was just business as usual.
The team got along much better after that, surviving violent fights and sharing traumatic experiences worked wonders for bringing people together. They successfully completed C-rank after C-rank, and by the time the chuunin exams in Grass approached, Shikamaru felt that they were ready.
He and Takao were definitely chuunin-level, and Nao, while still unable to find a niche area which suited her, was a competent kunoichi, well-versed in all the basics a ninja needed and not hindered by the arrogance that generally plagues young would-be chuunin.
So when Hana proudly presented them with three slips of paper nominating them for the chuunin exams, Shikamaru was pleased, but not surprised.
His parents were torn between pride and worry, wishing that he would remain a gennin for a little longer, but still tried to be happy for him. The rest of the clan was extremely pleased at his progress. While generally a laid-back bunch, the Nara were still a ninja clan and their heir was a symbol for all of them.
They were proud of him, proud in a way that went beyond the general pride they had for all family members. It was different from before. He had been respected as the one-day clan head, everyone aware of his intelligence, and he had generally been regarded as Shikaku 2.0. But this, this was pride for him, for Nara Shikamaru. Now, he was their symbol, the representation of the Nara clan.
It wasn't a bad different. He just wasn't sure what to think of it, and so generally tried not to pay it much mind.
When the Konoha chuunin candidates arrived in Kusa, it was, as expected, grassy.
Shikamaru had been here before, several times for missions when the village was still standing and once after it had been razed to the ground. They'd found several useful seals stashed away in nooks and crannies, before they had to flee when Zetsu found them again.
Naruto had died here, chakra exhausted, Kurama's energy all spent and bleeding from where he was missing several limbs.
He had been their greatest fighter, and as a result had fought the most. Years of running and non-stop fighting had worn even him down, and it was here, in the ruins of what had once been Kusa, that Naruto had died.
Now, Grass was once again bustling with life, buildings standing tall and proud, the village rife with color and people from all walks of life.
Shikamaru was incredibly glad that it was so different. There was no resemblance whatsoever between this lively place and the drab, desolate destruction that Naruto had died in.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
The first phase of the exam was, once again, information gathering. They had to crack an old Iwa cipher that had been used during the Second Shinobi War by following the clues hidden about the village. Takao wanted to instantly start searching, while Shikamaru insisted there was no need, since he knew the cipher. To both their surprise, it was Nao who solved the issue by reading out the answer. The both of them stared at her for a moment, shocked, before the Hyuuga demanded how she knew what it said.
Shikamaru sent a piercing look her way.
"You've never seen this before?" He asked, voice intent.
Nao looked flustered under both of their undivided attention, shaking her head with flushed cheeks.
Shikamaru regarded her for a moment longer before he asked, "Have you considered a career in cryptography?"
Nao looked surprised before shaking her head once more.
"Um, no, I was told it was for really smart people." She said self-depreciatingly.
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "It's for people good at cracking codes. You solved this in five minutes, having never seen it before. That's really impressive."
"Really!?" Nao burst out, looking incredibly flattered. He had never complimented her before, Shikamaru realized belatedly. "But it's just recognizing patterns."
"Recognizing patterns is what other people call code breaking." He drawled. "If you want to join the cryptoanalysis unit, my dad will give you a recommendation."
The kunoichi was looking overwhelmed now, and very ruffled. "A recommendation from the jounin commander!?" She squeaked out.
He nodded firmly. "You'll have to meet him and answer a couple of questions, but you'll definitely earn one. You have talent. Think about it."
"Wow." The thirteen-year-old looked dazed. "O-okay."
And thus, team seven passed the information gathering stage without actually gathering any information.
The second phase was a hunting simulation.
They were released into a cordoned-off area, told to hunt a certain team, and that another would be hunting them in turn. They were to protect the medallions they had been given and to retrieve the other team's one at all costs.
With Takao's byakugan, it was far too easy, and the three of them obtained their goal within the first two hours. The rest of the time they had to remain in the area was spent ambushing other teams and stealing their medallions, cutting down the competition.
By sunset, there were only three teams that passed.
One from Cloud, one from Sand and their team from the Leaf.
This tournament was far more peaceful than the one Shikamaru had experienced before in Konoha. There was no invasion, no giant snakes, no rogue jinchuuriki to chase down. Instead, it was just kids beating on each other in front of a massive audience.
The hardest fight for Shikamaru was actually against Takao, his byakugan and familiarity with him proving an invaluable tool. But in the end, it wasn't too difficult to trick him. In a rather nostalgic mood, he used his floating jacket, a discrete tunnel and – to add something new – a couple of well-timed explosive tags that set the shrubbery alight and elongated his shadow. Sending the shadowy tendrils to creep up his paralyzed legs had the Hyuuga resigning, and the subsequent tournament was a breeze. He got to see everyone's abilities against other opponents, and when it came to his turn, outsmarting these children was literally child's play.
He only used one technique – his clan jutsu – the entire tournament.
The runner-up, a boy from Kumo, commented on it after Shikamaru had won.
"You know, they tell us in the Academy that it's not how many jutsu you know, but how you use it that counts. I didn't really believe them until today."
Shikamaru eyed the boy, his face vaguely familiar and realized he had been a Kumo jounin during the war. He nodded his thanks.
"I'll keep an eye out for you." The boy promised the Nara. "I'm sure we'll be hearing of you soon enough."
"You will." Shikamaru promised.
That earned him a penetrating look, not just from the newly-promoted chuunin, but also from the Raikage, A. Sarutobi Hiruzen smiled cheerfully while puffing on his pipe, not showing his reaction to the new chuunin's bold statement, but it was the Mizukage, Yagura, that Shikamaru was looking for. He didn't know if Obito could see through his puppet's eyes, and he didn't really care. Let Obito and Zetsu know about him. Let them see how much of a threat he could be.
One day, when the Akatsuki started disappearing and the traces all led back to Shikamaru, let them come after him.
He would be ready. He would be waiting.
And when they tried to kill him, he would kill them first, his most elusive prey having oh-so-helpfully come straight to him.
Nao came over for dinner the night after they returned to Konoha. She was from a civilian family and was incredibly nervous about turning up to a Clan head's house, and essentially asking for a recommendation. But Yoshino was extremely pleased to have his teammate over and did her best to be welcoming, sharing that she, too, came from a civilian family and how pleased she was to meet her.
Shikaku was relaxed like he always was when at home, and Yoshino coaxed stories about their missions out of the young kunoichi, some she'd heard about, other she hadn't.
Shikamaru had neglected to tell his parents of the disastrous babysitting mission, and his mother laughed until she cried and his father smirked at him when Nao related the catastrophe it had been.
When dinner had gone, Shikaku gave Nao a few ciphers, asking how she would go about solving them. She did well, just as Shikamaru had known she would, and by the end of the short interview, his father agreed to give her a recommendation for her application to the cryptoanalysis team.
With a recommendation from the jounin commander, the application was a mere formality. No one would turn her away with that on her file.
When it looked like Nao would start kowtowing out of gratefulness, Yoshino bombarded her with desserts and shared with her several hard-learned facts that civilian-born children aren't aware of when they begin to work in the shinobi workplace. By the time they finished, it was late, and Yoshino sent Shikamaru to walk her home.
There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of them as they strolled out of the Nara compound and back into the village. They had a good working relationship, but they didn't spend time together outside of their team and weren't really that close.
"Your parents are really nice." Nao broke the silence.
"Yeah." Shikamaru nodded. "They're great." He said truthfully.
"You know, it's kind of funny, normally the thirteen-year old would be the one to walk the eight-year old back home, not the other way around."
A laugh startled its way out of him. He hadn't even thought of that, not used to thinking of himself as an eight-year-old.
By the time they arrived at her house, the atmosphere was much more relaxed and the kunoichi smiled at him when he handed her the leftover dessert his mother had packed as they stood on her doorstep.
"I know, you're a chuunin now, and I'll be working in the village, but –" she hesitated for a moment and shuffled her feet awkwardly, "– will you stop by cryptoanalysis once in a while?" She blurted out, not looking at him.
Shikamaru's eyebrows rose, and he felt warm, fondness form in the pit of his stomach that took him by surprise.
"Yeah, I'll drop by."
Nao beamed, her previous shyness forgotten. She was so young and unscarred, so happy at finding something she could be good at, and with a new opportunity lined up to look forward to.
A fierce emotion surged through him, momentarily stealing his breath and catching him off guard.
It was – protectiveness. He wanted Nao to remain as she was, just as innocent and happy and kind. This was what he had wanted to protect so long ago.
Konoha's 'king'. The most precious piece on the board – the youth of their village.
He had forgotten. How had he forgotten this?
When Shikamaru arrived home, his mother was putting the dishes away, but instantly turned her attention to him.
"She was a lovely girl." Yoshino commented 'casually'.
"She's nice. I like her." Shikamaru said truthfully. And then, because he knew it would make his parents happy, he added:
"She asked me to drop by the tower when she starts working there."
His mother beamed at him, the happiness lighting up her face. "That's wonderful news!" She exclaimed.
A part of Shikamaru was bemused, he found it somewhat amusing that his parents thought of him as some sort of social cripple. And yeah, it was kind of true, he was eight years old and had never had any friends this time around.
Shikamaru wasn't used to being inept at anything, wasn't used to his parents thinking him incapable of anything, and so his mother's ecstatic happiness and the relieved glimmer in his father's eyes made him want to roll his own eyes at their over-reaction.
But his parents were both happy, and Shikamaru – he was too. For the first time since he came back, he felt contentment bubble through him, felt something other than hollowing grief, vicious determination or unrelenting hatred.
He was happy.
The three of them basked in each other's contentment, the mood amongst the Nara family light-hearted and cheery.
For years, I've been searching for a Shikamaru story where he reaches his full potential. Since I couldn't find one, I wrote one instead.
In this, Shikamaru will be the ninja he would have been if he held nothing back, if he used every scrap of his talent and intelligence and turned himself into the greatest ninja he could. So yeah, expect a major badass, especially in the later chapters when he starts hunting down the Akatsuki.
So please, read and enjoy!