Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters are owned by Masashi Kishimoto. No copyright infringement intended.
Timeline: This is considered Canon-Adjacent. It follows most of the Canon timeline with a few key differences. The fourth Shinobi war did not happen, most of the Akatsuki members are alive. All gaps and changes are explained during the story.
A piercingly immediate, excruciating, unrelenting ache seared through Shikamaru's body, jolting him straight up from his contrived slumber. It was blinding, electric and even though he wanted to scream his throat was too dry. Dry like a desert. His tongue tasted of salt and felt akin to sandpaper scraping along the roof of his mouth, urgently attempting to spread moisture. Numbness began to creep up his legs which he so desperately longed to lift, yet found them to be far too heavy. Shikamaru gave another futile attempt at moving, this time his eyelids, and found no success. Where was he? What had happened?
Shikamaru's brows furrowed for half a second, even such a simple action caused him immense discomfort. A warm sensation at his temples told the shadow wielder he wasn't alone but did little to ease his steadily growing concern about what had put him in such a vulnerable position. Were it not for the steady flow of chakra his presumed comrade was sending through his body in an attempt to lessen his agony, Shikamaru wouldn't have known anyone was there. Years of training should've made it laughably easy to sense someone sitting directly beside him. Certainly not a good sign that he couldn't.
He gradually relaxed, due wholly to the fingers pressed to his temples which had finally allowed him to stop scrunching his face, soothing the burning crackle in his body. Without his blood booming in his eardrums any longer, Shikamaru could finally hear a flood of noise in the distance. Shrill screams, indignant war cries, kunais clanking, bodies colliding, blasts of various chakra and jutsus ricocheting. That's right. He was on the battlefield. At least he had been, that much he could remember. Shikamaru needed to get up; he needed to move, to help the others in any way he could. The fingers at his temple pressed harder upon sensing his sudden urgency and forced him to remain still.
When he tried to ignore those fingers, Shikamaru's legs screeched from a thudding, pounding sensation which confirmed he had several broken bones. The word troublesome came to mind. He couldn't get up no matter how badly he wanted to. Shikamaru licked his brittle lips and gave his voice a shot- all he could manage was a hoarse groan. Wonderful. Either he had crushed his windpipe somehow or was extremely dehydrated. Not that he had an inkling one way or the other seeing as how every inch of him prickled with pain. The hand on the right side of his head disappeared momentarily, then Shikamaru felt something cool pressed to his lips.
His brain had scarcely registered it as water, lips parting easily to accept the cup held out for him. It occurred to Shikamaru that he couldn't possibly be laying on his back- generally one ought to be able to tell what position their body was in, but the only feeling he could identify seemed to be the pain. What he had assumed to be a pillow shifted beneath his head, and the shadow ninja knew he was laying in someone's lap, on someone's legs. Once again, Shikamaru found himself grappling with his body by flinching his eyes hoping sheer willpower would force them open.
Shikamaru's efforts were thwarted when he heard the shuffling of a heavy canvas flung out of the way, probably a tent flap opening. The presence of another made itself known, although Shikamaru still couldn't get a read on chakra to tell who it might be. Haggard, strained breaths puffed from the newcomer and made Shikamaru wonder what sort of horrific travesty the stranger had faced.
"We have to move." Came a surprisingly calm, albeit gruff voice.
Sasuke. It made sense that the Uchiha hadn't fallen in the line of duty, he was after all a member of one of Konoha's four noble clans. Shikamaru felt multitudes of relief. Someone from his village was confirmed to be alive, insinuating they hadn't lost the war as of that very moment. Another shift as the ninja lifted Shikamaru's head, the legs beneath him disappeared and was replaced by a cushiony pillow. A bottle of water was then pressed into Shikamaru's hand before the unknown shinobi prepared to leave. He couldn't say for sure if his comrade's chakra had something to do with it or if his body was utterly exhausted, but sleep was starting to plague Shikamaru's mind like cancer. After what felt like an eternity of struggle, Shikamaru managed to inch an eye open, observing the blurry sight of two ANBU clad ninja ducking out of the tent. Long brown hair was the last thing he saw, and his final conscious thought echoed the familiar man's name.
Neji Hyūga.