It is another piecemeal sky torn by rainclouds, and as usual Shikamaru is standing under a copse near the graveyard. Each exhalation from his cigarette is a dark shadow that lingers and drifts until it is suddenly dashed away by the torrent of rain three feet from his perch.
As usual, Sakura is standing as far from the smell of smoke as possible. Even if it means standing under the down pour.
"Smoking is bad for you, you know," she says quietly for the millionth time, though not quite as vehemently today. Her back is to him as she stands and stares at the far headstones between her dripping bangs. "You should quit," she adds.
"Too troublesome," Shikamaru replies.
Sakura's derisive snort says much of her opinion on the matter. "I don't understand why people insist on killing themselves," she says flatly.
He exhales another curl of smoke, then looks pointedly at her drenched clothes. "Perhaps I didn't feel like drowning myself today." The glare she throws over her shoulder would have made weaker men cower. Heck, stronger men too. Shikamaru is simply too lazy.
The silence returns, for which Shikamaru is grateful. Girls have a way of ruining a good thing, especially this girl. It has been 5 years since the death of Madara and a relative peace has settled over the Fire Country. Most days, Shikamaru goes about his duties with a sense of easy quiet. It helps that the memory of Asuma is always tucked away in a jacket pocket, ready to simmer and linger in hazy reminiscence. These days, even his daily visit to the graveyard is more habit than reminder, more relief than pain.
Except when she is around. If Sakura isn't trying to curb his smoking addiction, she is lecturing him on his tardiness or the shoddiness of his paperwork or the carelessness of his attitude. Sometimes just the sight of her feels like an omen to a problematic day. Sometimes just the sound of her scolding tone makes him almost wish he had good old, self absorbed Ino as a team mate again.
Which is the absolute worst thing about Sakura. The fact that he is forced to dredge up pasts left better untouched just because she can't leave hers well enough alone.
He would have told her he can't be Sasuke long ago if he didn't know she is very aware of this fact.
Shikamaru takes another drag, watching the shadows flicker and fade. It would be easier if he could blame her, but the truth is that time has not been good to either of them. The world has changed and so have they. Now here they are at a graveyard in a rainstorm, standing as close together as Sakura can allow while they argue about the risks of smoking and she pretends not to cry.
He can no longer pretend he doesn't care.
She makes a very difficult partner, Shikamaru thinks as he drops his cigarette on the ground and stubs it out with his heel. She makes him turn his reports on time, refuses to let him play Shogi during watch, and drags him to the cemetery because he's the only one she trusts to understand. He's not yet at a place where he can say being her partner isn't a burden. But as more time passes these things are starting to matter less and less. He's starting to find that there isn't much this girl can do to to drive him away, even when she is trying.
Not when she stands there half drowned in the rain and it is so obvious that all she really wants is for someone to listen.
Shikamaru sighs.
"Sakura," he says loud enough over the rain. "I'll take you home."
A year ago she would have ignored him and stayed out all night. Now, she gives one last longing glance and discreetly wipes her face before she moves to stand beside him under the copse, so close their elbows touch.
"Shikamaru," she replies, and he catches the small twist of her lips. "I'll take you home."
Troublesome girl.