Spring Haze

Certain these clouds go somewhere...

Six months had passed since the Third Ninja War, and Konoha was beginning to rebuild itself. On this particular warm April morning, the citizens of Konoha were out and about. The Hyuuga sisters laid fresh flowers on their cousin Neji's grave; Ino Yamanaka lay with her head in Chouji Akimichi's lap, watching the cherry blossoms dancing in the wind; the Nara clan herders watched fawns take tiny, faltering steps. From her desk, Tsunade could hear children playing in the yard of the Academy.

She wondered how many of those children had lost parents, and replayed the final events of the war in her mind. The Alliance had lost three-quarters of its forces; at least twenty thousand of the dead had been from Konoha. The youngest had been only eleven years old, only a few years younger than the new Jounin Commander, himself barely an adult. She had been reluctant to give him the job at first, but at a post-war conference with the other Kages, both the Kazekage and the Tsuchikage had pointed out how many more lives could have been lost without his ability to plan on his feet.

Speak of the devil! Shikamaru was knocking at the door and calling, "Tsunade-sama, may we come in?"

"Enter," barked the Hokage. Shikamaru prodded the door open with his foot, his arms full of paperwork. Shizune followed, carrying Tonton.

"Just dump that on my desk," said Tsunade. "Are you two finished?"

Shikamaru nodded, and added, "I hope you don't mind, but I was hoping you'd let me go to the hospital. Since, well, I promised Chouji I would, and besides, you probably know what day it is." Seeing the frown on the Hokage's face, he added, "22nd April. Chouza's birthday."

"I don't see why not," said Tsunade. "Off you go." Shikamaru saluted, and walked out, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Once she was certain Shikamaru was out of earshot, Shizune asked, "I don't mean to be rude, Tsunade-sama, but why does he even bother? What does he get out of those visits?"

Tsunade sighed. "What's he supposed to do, just leave Chouza to stare at the wall all day?"

"But he doesn't even talk! Not even to his own son!"

Tsunade was irritated. "Shizune, you're not an idiot. Use your head, girl."

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Shikamaru knocked three times, the signal he and Chouji had come up with between them, and tentatively opened the door.

Chouza Akimichi was sitting on his bed, his immense hands crossed in his lap. He had pulled the curtains of his stark white hospital room open, and beams of light illuminated his scarred face. On seeing Shikamaru, he gave a lopsided smile, and then returned to staring at his hands.

"Happy birthday, Uncle Chouza," said Shikamaru gently. He sat down next to the older shinobi. "I've got a present for you."

If Chouza had been listening, he made no sign. He continued to sit, his head bowed, his wild, unwashed crimson hair falling into his face.

Shikamaru leaned over and pushed Chouza's hair aside. Chouza looked at him.

"I'm going to take you to look at the clouds," Shikamaru said. "I got permission from the medic-nin. They said it's fine as long as I make sure to bring you back. Is that OK with you? If it's not, I'll leave. I understand.

Chouza smiled wanly and made the briefest of head movements. Shikamaru, taking this as his cue, jumped up and grabbed Chouza's hand. He guided the older man out of his room, down the steps and into the sunlight.

They walked through Konoha, Shikamaru guiding Chouza, who was staring down at the ground and kneading his hands. A couple of people stared. Shikamaru gave them his iciest gaze back. He was Jounin Commander, gods damn it, and he wasn't going to have people treating his father's best friend like an outcast.

The two men walked until they were out of the village streets and into the countryside, where various small groups of people were sitting and watching the cherry blossoms, having picnics, chatting, playing football. Leading normal lives.

He found a prime spot, and lay back, his head resting on his hands. Chouza did the same. Shikamaru adjusted his body until he felt comfortable, and then he began to speak.

"Remember when me and Chouji were kids? We used to do this. Watch the clouds. Sometimes we'd play that game where you look for shapes and things. We still do when we get the time, I mean, we're not kids anymore but it's nice to go back, you know? Dad said he used to do it with you and Inoichi, sometimes, though you two always got bored and wandered off."

Chouza said nothing.

"Shizune thinks I'm mad for visiting you," Shikamaru found himself saying. "She thinks there's no point talking to a mute. She thinks I must be bored out of my mind." He laughed shortly. "But it's not like you can't hear me, is it? And anyway, what am I supposed to do? You haven't got Inoichi and Dad anymore. I owe it to Dad. Me, Ino and Chouji. We all do. Asuma-sensei would be furious with us if we didn't."

Chouza's breathing was almost silent, his eyes wide. Shikamaru realised he was listening intensely.

"I still can't believe he's gone," said Shikamaru. His eyes began to fill with tears. "Gods, look at me, being such a miserable sod on your birthday. Fortunes of war, isn't it? Let's look at the clouds. I wish I knew what you could see...hang on, what was that?" as he heard the faintest of sounds coming from Chouza.

The older man rolled onto his side. Shikamaru could see that he, too, was beginning to tear up.

"Why?" Chouza asked. "Why...does...it...always end up like this?"

Shikamaru sat bolt upright.

"You spoke!"

"I can't...I can't...don't think I...Shikaku...Inoichi...we were...the war...the clouds..." Only fragments of sentences, but Chouza was forcing himself to speak. He had been silent for six months, falling into listlessness, a walking ghost of a man who spent his days in a hospital room staring at the walls and only just remembering to eat when nurses brought him food, and having to be washed and taken care of. He had moved out of the Akimichi compound when it was clear that there was only so much Chouji could have done, and the strain of taking care of him was taking its toll on Chouji and his mother.

"Shikaku...Inoichi...Shikaku...Inoichi..." Chouza repeated the names of his dead team mates. He pointed up at the clouds. "They're...watching...watching me..."

Tears dribbled out of Chouza's small dark eyes and down his face.

"You...you look... just like him, Shikamaru," he croaked. "Just like him."

"I know, Uncle Chouza, I know," said Shikamaru gently, squeezing Chouza's hand and wondering what he was going to tell Chouji. The words were not flowing freely, merely trickling out like small droplets of water from a rock, but it was a beginning, at least.