Chapter Two:
Half In and Half Out of the Light
Inside the Hokage's office, Naruto absently shuffled papers around his desk, organizing the files of medical ninja that would accompany the 'Shikadai Retrieval Team' as he had begun to call it inside his head. Still inside his office was Sasuke, his stoic gaze almost boring holes into the Hokage's skin, causing Naruto to shiver. More or less, he knew what Sasuke was thinking, and when his gaze met his best friend's, he shrugged. Sasuke wouldn't lecture him, but Naruto did expect to be chastised just a bit. After all, even he was having second thoughts about letting Temari join in on the team. It was risky in more reasons than one, and as he continued to think about it he only thought of more worst case scenarios. Since when had he became such a pessimist?
"Sasuke," Naruto breathed out, leaning back into his chair as he raised his blue eyes to the ceiling. He got no verbal reply from his friend but that was to be expected. "I made a mistake, huh?"
"Only to be expected from a loser," came Sasuke's breezy reply, still standing as still as a statue. Even now as Hokage Naruto couldn't stand that still as if there was something hardwired in him that caused a need to move. Iruka Sensei had figured that out, and knew that sometimes a better punishment than yelling was to just have Naruto stand still; although that stopped once Naruto became skilled in the art of sleeping while standing. "Your heart always controlled you more than your brain."
"Kakashi Sensei would have done the same thing, I think," Naruto murmured, glancing over at the only ninja that could hold a candle to him before standing up and stretching. The soreness never left, it never would as long as Naruto stuck to his ninja-way. The soreness was something that all shinobi become accustomed to until it was a part of them. As Naruto rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck, he released another sigh. "It's not like she's going after her brother or a friend, it's her own son. Who knows if she can hold back."
"You aren't worried about Shikamaru?" Sasuke questioned a bit cryptically.
"Why should I be?"
"He has gone on an assassination mission before with the Anbu," The dark haired male pointed out.
"Yeah but he didn't kill Gengo."
"He was prepared to kill him." Naruto made a face at the statement. Despite Sasuke's point, the blonde couldn't picture Shikamaru killing another person. Not because of his attitude but it seemed that Shikamaru couldn't justify killing another person. They never had deep conversations, mostly because of how dense Naruto still was, but Naruto nevertheless could notice a change in a close partner. When Shikamaru began to keep everything strictly about work, Naruto knew that the man was having some sort of problems at home and didn't have the guts to speak about it. If Shikamaru brought up Temari, which was a rare occurrence, Naruto figured that the two of them were on cloud nine, and couldn't help but smirk at his advisor. Everything Shikamaru did was always subtle, but the only other people that could know Shikamaru better than Naruto was his wife and his old teammates. Other than that, most people thought of Shikamaru as just his accomplishments and mild persona. So how could Sasuke know more about him than Naruto?
"Naruto," Sasuke prompted, "If Boruto had been taken instead, would you have the constraint to only get him back?"
"I would bring them in, not kill them, Sasuke."
"You could. Can they? If Shino is right and they have the forbidden scroll, they might have to kill."
"I don't understand what you're trying to say," Naruto retorted, frowning a bit. What did this have to do with Shikamaru? Shino was the leader, he had no doubt that overall that they would ultimately listen to Shino, and the one most likely to do that was Shikamaru. So how did Shikamaru become the problem and what did the scroll have to do with it?
"All I'm saying is to expect casualties. Shikadai may not be the Hokage's son like Boruto, but he's a very important political piece that physically binds Suna and Konoha together." Sasuke finally tore his obsidian gaze from the Hokage to the window, watching the shadows grow with the setting sun. "If they use him for revenge, I'm sure Shikamaru won't hold back. He has the best technique to kill out of the four of them, surely you've seen how easy he can do it."
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The couple wasted no time as they hurried to their home, only to find that they had left the door to their home wide open. They both stood for a moment at their doorstep, eyes simultaneously going wide as they remembered that Temari had previously been cooking. With an exasperated breath, Temari stepped into their home first, rushing to the kitchen. At the string of curse words that left her mouth, Shikamaru knew that she had left the stove on. It was a miracle that their house didn't burn down. At least there was one blessing for the day.
Moving into his home, the man closed the door behind him and entered the kitchen as well, seeing Temari bent over and wiping frantically at the wooden floor with a cloth. The simmering vegetables had been inside a decent sized pot, and the water had boiled over completely, leaving the vegetables to burn against the bottom. The smell was bad and Shikamaru went over to open a window before getting a kitchen towel and helping his wife clean up the mess. They did quick work of it, with Temari throwing out the vegetables and tying up the bag before scrapping the burnt skin with chopsticks under cold water. They continued to remained silent.
For a moment, Shikamaru watched his wife vigorously scrub the pot clean. He pitied the ninja who were foolish enough to take the son of the scariest woman alive.
She had muscles in her arm still, they were almost as taut as the day they met. Shikamaru never knew how heavy his wife's tessen could be until he had picked it up one day as they both did paperwork for the Allied Shinobi Meeting a dozen years or so ago. The nineteen-year-old him had exclaimed playfully that she was going to get a crooked back if she continued carrying it around, prompting her fiery teal gaze and sharp words that he was half the man she thought he was if he couldn't pick up a small fan.
There had never been anything small about her tessen, being that now it was almost five feet long and could stretch to about nine feet wide when fully opened. Yet, Temari carried it with ease, despite its weight comparing to her own. She could also still float upon it with her light weight, just like the day she obliterated TenTen. Shikamaru knew it only worked due to the sandy blonde's strong wind release, otherwise there was no way she could ride it without falling face first to the ground. She was remarkable, and her skill showed in Shikadai.
A prodigy among the Nara clan, Shikamaru couldn't be more proud of his son. He had worried about not spending enough time to help him train, but Temari seemed to cover that base as best as she could. She had been disappointed when it was obvious that Shikadai's nature had none of her wind-release, but didn't give up with his training. If anything, Shikadai was a prodigy because of Temari. He had her creativity, something that Shikamaru lacked. While Shikamaru focused on a singular point, Shikadai focused on a wide range, something only he could have received from his mother as that was her fighting style. He could go from a singular point or encompass many, without having to truly look and see. Not only did he have that aspect down from his mother, he had the same triumphant look Temari had, yet still asked how he did.
"You aren't going after Shikadai in that, are you?" Temari had turned around to face him, yet with being lost in his thoughts, Shikamaru gave his wife a sheepish look. She merely returned it with one of her signature sarcastic playfulness, although her eyes didn't shine. They were just going through the motions. It was hard to pretend to be happy, to pretend everything was okay. As his woman stepped towards him, Shikamaru instinctively put his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest roughly, holding her in their heavy silence.
In their stillness, something snapped. In their silence, something fell but made no noise. There was tension, but for what? There was no snap, no taut string. There was no broken shelf that had things tumbling down. There was nothing, and that frightened him. It frightened him almost as much as the fact that Temari had yet to shed a single tear.
She was not an emotionless robot. Throughout the years, there was an inward sensitivity that came obvious to him as they worked beside each other. He had been much more open to crying than she ever had when they were young. He only hardened up after the Fourth War, and she had broken down her façade little by little. Yet he was a hypocrite for criticizing her lack of tears.
When she pulled away, his dark eyes searched hers briefly, finding grim determination, anguish, and a hard, dryness to them. She wasn't going to cry. Neither was he. Both were resolute in finding their son, and couldn't waste tears on him. If they did, it was like admitting defeat. Or even worse, it was like seeing the end of the tunnel and finding that there never was any light to begin with. The truth had always been hard for them to swallow.
"We need to get ready," Temari whispered, pausing slightly as if she were going to say more. Instead she squeezed him back for a second and then was out of his arms, heading upstairs to their room. Shikamaru followed her and stopped when she did as she looked at the closed door parallel to theirs: Shikadai's room.
"We're going to get him back," He assured her, placing his two large hands on her shoulders as he gave them a slight squeeze of what he hoped was similar enough to reassurance. Yet the ache he felt in his heart throbbed in tandem with her own, causing the couple to once again pause. Empty. They were both empty. Even with the thought of rescuing Shikadai, they couldn't deny the all-consuming emptiness that sucked the life out of them. "Just focus on the task at hand," Shikamaru added, knowing the only thing that could help them was work. With a stiff nod of her head, she moved forward, her steps heavy.
Shikamaru wasn't sure what hurt most: the loss of his son or seeing his beloved react to their loss.
Quickly shaking his head, Shikamaru vowed to never use the term 'loss' when relating to his son. It only sickened him further at the aspect that he could assume they weren't getting Shikadai back.
However, optimism could only hurt later in the future whereas pessimism allowed him to consider all angles. This was essential, they both didn't know who could have taken Shikadai and for what purpose. If the attackers originally wanted Boruto, was it to use it against Konoha or the Hokage? If they took Shikadai, would they only threaten Konoha or would they discover that he was related to the great Kazekage of Suna?
The couple once again began maneuvering around their room, deftly collecting what they needed and changing into their desired uniform. Shikamaru was putting on the traditional gear of a Konaha ninja while Temari began to put on her layers of clothing. He watched her like he had before in the kitchen although his fingers were moving as they first undressed him and began to clothe him. He finished before her as he only wore a pair of dark pants and shirt, a green flak jacket going on top. Temari was still tying up the back on her lavender, sleeveless kimono-style long shirt that went over a short dark plum dress. A pair of mesh armor shorts went down to her mid thighs and she also supported the same mesh armor shirt beneath the dress. Tying the shirt together with a navy-blue sash, she placed her fan inside of it comfortably as she also swapped out her original sandals for a black pair that went up to her mid-calf.
The blonde slid on a pair of black fingerless gloves and grabbed two small satchels, going over to an area of the room that the couple held their kunai, shuriken and other ninja goods. Shikamaru instead grabbed a knapsack, and went to the bathroom, opening a cabinet and collecting special healing salves and bandages. Once he entered the master bedroom, Temari gave him a nod of her head that said she was ready. He gave her a half grin, catching the dark blue weapon holder she tossed to him; taking a line of bandage wraps from his bag as he sat on the bed. He went through the motions: hands quickly wrapping the bandage and tying it perfectly on his right thigh before clasping the small satchel around it. He stood up and shrugged the small backpack onto his back, scratching the back of his head.
Temari was as prepared as Shikamaru, her weapons case tied around her waist, slightly hidden beneath her sash.
"Ready?" The Nara head asked her.
"I am, but," She said, moving towards Shikamaru with a serious look. "You're going to lose this, y'know." She informed him, pulling his necklace off from his neck, standing on the tips of her toes and she guided the chain in a way so it wouldn't get caught on his hair. The blonde briefly fingered the silver wedding band, a small yet radiant, genuine smile playing upon her lips. She turned her back to Shikamaru as she placed the necklace on top of their shared dresser, still touching the band fondly. "Okay, now, we can go." She said once she had finished her reminiscence, turning towards her husband yet again.
"After you," Shikamaru said with a sweep of his hand to gesture the door out of the room. Temari followed suit with his direction and headed out with her husband behind her, placing both hands in his pockets. This time it was him who paused at the top of the stairs, sad eyes watching the door parallel to his own, wishing that it would open to greet him with a pair of eyes and expression like his mother, but hair and posture that could only mimic his father. When the door didn't open, Shikamaru began to descend the stairs, a few steps behind Temari.