Second Chance
Summary: Shikamaru, Gaara and Naruto go back in time. Only Shikamaru and Gaara make it to the past.
Chapter 29
They'd sat together in Mikoto and Fugaku's living room long enough that Itachi had stopped trembling and Sasuke had begun dozing.
Yoshino watched the brothers – Itachi taking care not to move an inch while Sasuke was slumped against him, and Sasuke looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen him – and wished that she could undo whatever had caused Itachi's eyes to change.
She'd press Mikoto for answers later. Later, once the imminent threat to her family wasn't quite so dire – preferably when Yoshino's husband had returned with Shikamaru.
She scowled, hating the fact that nobody had told her that her son was in the village before it had been too late. She hated doing nothing. She hated feeling useless.
Now she was with Mikoto and her family, and she wasn't able to do anything to help here either.
Yoshino wasn't sure how much time had passed before the ANBU showed up.
"Nara-san," the kunoichi said, stepping into Mikoto's living space without asking. "A word, if you please."
Yoshino was already on her feet. She stalked forward and pushed the ANBU out into the hallway, incredulous at the sheer lack of manners and tact. "Is now really the time?" she hissed, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't disturb Mikoto's family in the other room.
Faced with her open animosity, the ANBU faltered. "Please, Nara-san. It's important." Her voice was as tense as the line of her body. Sweat collected on her neck – the one part of her head uncovered by her mask. "A delegate of the Kazekage has arrived in the village."
"What do you expect me to do about it?" Yoshino let out an incredulous laugh. "I'm a chūnin. And retired. If you want something to be done, Shikaku is–" Not currently in the village. Yoshino paused, realizing why the ANBU had come to her. "What about the Hokage?"
"Occupied."
"Chōza, then. Or Ibiki-san. Whoever is in charge when Shikaku isn't."
"They're patrolling the village or aiding in the search."
Yoshino scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't tell me there's no jōnin left in the village capable of–"
"There are," the ANBU whispered, stepping closer to Yoshino. "But Nara-taichō has ordered that all new information regarding the jinchūriki be treated with extreme discretion."
Yoshino fell silent. A delegate of the Kazekage, she'd said. They must have come to investigate their missing jinchūriki. The very same one who was their only link to Shikamaru's disappearance. No wonder Shikaku had ordered his ANBU to inform him first.
"I'll take care of it," she said, not bothering to try and come up with someone she found trustworthy enough to interview the Suna nin in Shikaku's stead.
This was about Shikamaru. If anyone was going to take responsibility, it was going to be Yoshino.
Yashamaru was fairly certain that the woman who followed in the ANBU's wake was not a high-ranking shinobi. He knew not to judge a book by its cover, but she simply did not have the presence of one. Her expression hid none of the reservations she felt. Yashamaru was tempted to decline this part in whatever political games Konaha thought they were playing and continue his search without their blessing.
The woman marched up to him, a scowl painted on her face.
"You're from Suna?" she asked, skipping over all forms of courtesy or politeness.
Yashamaru doubted she'd ever taken part in a diplomatic meeting in her life. If she had, she'd conveniently forgotten all about it. "My name's Yashamaru. I'm Gaara's uncle," he said, because being the Kazekage's delegate had gotten him nowhere so far.
"When have you last seen him?" the woman demanded. She didn't offer Yashamaru her name.
"Several weeks ago," Yashamaru answered promptly, taken aback by her bluntness. "He'd taken part in a mission to escort the Kazekage. They were attacked, and Gaara was separated from the rest of our shinobi."
"Have you heard from him since?"
"Not once." Yashamaru pressed his lips together. "I set out to look for him immediately after the rest of our shinobi returned."
"What is your connection to Konoha?" the woman asked, and the sharpness of her voice made Yashamaru pause.
"Are you interrogating me?" He stared at the woman who could not possibly be ranked higher than a chūnin.
"I want to know where your kid went as much as you do," the woman told him curtly. "You're going to make it difficult for the both of us if you decide to clam up now."
Yashamaru's brows dropped into a frown. "What are your intentions regarding my nephew?"
"There are none. But my son disappeared at the same time he did."
"Disappeared? What do you mean, disappeared?"
The woman rubbed her eyes as though warding off a persistent headache. Dark rings were painted underneath her eyes and suggested she hadn't slept in days. "Your kid showed up in the village, caused a huge comotion and made a run for it not a day later. That same day we realized my son was gone too."
'Made a run for it'? That didn't sound like Gaara. "Did he say or do anything before he... disappeared?"
"I'm not the right person to ask," the woman muttered, directing her scowl in Yashamaru's vague vicinity. "I can only tell you what I've heard from others."
"It's still more than I know."
The woman sighed. She paused. "One of our shinobi brought him to the village. Said they'd picked him up off the side of the road and agreed to escort him to safety so we could send a message home for him."
Gaara would have been smart enough to accept the offer, Yashamaru knew. He'd have known to take the opportunity to let them all know he was still alive.
"So did you?" Yashamaru asked, pressing down a new wave of bitterness. Gaara had been here and the shinobi from before had known. They'd had his nephew – they'd hosted Gaara – and lost him. It had taken this long to finally get the truth out of them. "Did you send a message?"
"And what? Let you know that we've housed your nephew for a grand total of one day before he decided to take off?" The woman's voice was scathing. "I'm sure that would have gone over wonderfully."
"It doesn't sound like Gaara," Yashamaru insisted. "He wouldn't act like this."
"Well, neither would my son," the woman snapped. "Yet, here we are."
Yashamaru's frown deepened. "Listen, ma'am–"
"It's Yoshino."
"Listen, Yoshino-san."
Yashamaru paused, taking care to keep his voice level. "My nephew has never been to Konoha before. He couldn't have known any of your people, much less a child from here. If you truly think there's a connection–"
Yashamaru trailed off when an ANBU stepped up to Yoshino as though he wasn't there – a different one from before.
Yoshino closed her eyes and took a deep – unprofessionally exasperated – breath. "What now?" she muttered, and she went back to massaging her temples regardless of whether Yashamaru and the ANBU were watching.
"Nara-san," the ANBU started, but he was cut off almost immediately.
"I'm in the middle of something." Yoshino's voice was clipped, her brows furrowed in annoyance. "Can't it wait until Shikaku is back?"
"He is." The ANBU rushed to get the words out before Yoshino could interrupt him again. "A shadow clone of his just arrived. He's looking for you."
Yoshino's back went rigid. Her scowl melted into a grim frown. "Where?"
The ANBU leapt away to show her the way, and Yoshino followed.
Yashamaru hesitated a split second before following along. This was the first real connection to Gaara he'd managed to find. He wasn't going to let anything come between him and it.
Shikaku's shadow clone met them halfway. His expression was neutral and no less serious than Yoshino's, and a woman with hair as dark as her eyes followed in his wake. Both of them gave off the air of career shinobi in a way that Yoshino didn't.
Yashamaru blended into the background alongside the ANBU. It wasn't difficult, considering the Konoha nin's single-minded focus.
"It was Danzō," Shikaku said as soon as they were close enough. "I know where they are."
Yoshino's lips were white, her eyes widened in fury. "I'm coming."
"So am I," the nameless woman said. "So is Fugaku."
Shikaku gave a curt nod towards her, but hesitated when looking at Yoshino. "Keep in the background," he said eventually, giving up on a pointless fight.
Yoshino pressed her lips together even tighter. She returned the nod stiffly, her eyes showing all the emotions the other two took great care to keep locked away.
Yashamaru had no clue what was going on, but Yoshino's insistence to join two far higher-ranked shinobi in battle matched the shallowly buried fury she'd shown while talking about her missing son. Her son, who was somehow connected to Gaara. The one who had supposedly disappeared alongside Gaara.
Yashamaru didn't know what was happening, but he did know that he was about to see his only lead march off into a likely dangerous battle. If there was nothing else he knew, there was at least this: Yashamaru wasn't going to lose his one and only clue because he stayed behind and waited for them to sort out their mess by themselves.
Yashamaru broke out into a sprint and followed after the Konoha nin before he could second-guess himself longer.
The Root agents didn't try especially hard to keep Shikamaru obedient. They hadn't tried restraining him and did nothing to make him think they were planning to – if he decided to make a run for it right this instant, Shikamaru wasn't sure whether they'd even try to stop him.
Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. Gaara would definitely chide him once he found out the risks Shikamaru had taken. But Gaara wasn't here and that, in the end, was the source of Shikamaru's bout of recklessness, wasn't it?
The Root agents slowed and Shikamaru almost stumbled over his feet. There was a sensation – faint, almost impossible to pick up – a feeling that pierced his skin and sunk deep into his bones like lead. Something about it reminded him of Naruto.
"How much further?" he asked, unable to bear the silence for longer. None of the shinobi had spoken a single word to him.
One of them jerked their head and slipped through a narrow opening in between the trees. The others followed, and – shoving his hesitance aside – so did Shikamaru.
They entered a small clearing with several Root shinobi already present. Those who'd brought Shikamaru stilled, and two of them shared a glance and a small shrug.
Danzō was there, his back toward Shikamaru. In front of him, hunched over at the center of the clearing, trembling...
"What did you do to him?" Shikamaru whispered, going rigid at the sight.
Danzō loomed over Gaara, but he turned at the sound of Shikamaru's voice. The bandages around his head were loosened, and his no-longer covered eye swirled a nauseating red.
Shikamaru recoiled.
"... It's you." Danzō's stolen eye seemed to pierce straight through him.
Gaara let out a horrible keening sound, jammed in between heaved breaths and painful shudders. His eyes were dull, void of recognition. He didn't seem to have noticed Shikamaru.
"What did you do?" Shikamaru tried to take a step forward, but was intercepted by Root agents. Once again, they made no move to hold him. They merely planted themselves in front of him to keep him away.
Shikamaru realized that the sensation he'd felt was that of a Tailed Beast.
An inhuman growl tore out of Gaara's throat and snapped Shikamaru into action. He leaped forward to capture Danzō in his shadow – whatever he was doing to mess with Gaara, he needed to stop. Danzō fell back as more Root agents fell into place between them.
"You truly are something else," Danzō muttered, mustering him out of mismatched eyes. "What a wasted opportunity."
"You've done enough." Shikamaru's fist was clenched at his side. "Let him go."
"You know him." Danzō didn't spare a glance at Gaara. "As always, you are full of surprises."
"You should have paid more attention."
Danzō hummed. "A shame."
There was a pause. Danzō sounded like he meant it, and Shikamaru wondered how things would have turned out, had they gone Danzō's way.
"It is regrettable that you've exceeded your usefulness." Danzō looked up. "Now, you're getting in my way."
His frame flickered and disappeared from sight.
Shikamaru's heart skipped a beat. His eyes twitched to Gaara – his back arched painfully sharp, sweat collecting on his brow – and he forgot how to breathe.
A weight around his waist and the world jolted, thrown out of its axis and moving in a nauseating swirl of colors.
"Not one step," someone muttered in front of him. Shikamaru fought to bring his world back into focus.
He was back on his feet and on the other side of the clearing. Something was blocking his view on Danzō and Gaara, something – someone?
"Dad," Shikamaru whispered. This time, his dread was replaced with pure, childish relief.
His father's grip around his arm was too tight and bordered on painful – Shikamaru winced, unable to tug himself free if he tried.
His father kept himself in front of Danzō and his subordinates, combing a calm gaze over the clearing. Analyzing the odds. (Too many of them. There were far too many.)
Danzō's eyes gained a calculating glint that made Shikamaru want to carve them out with a kunai. "You weren't supposed to be part of this," he said.
His father's grip tightened. "You should have considered that when you made Shikamaru a part of your plans."
Danzō jerked his head and his Root agents attacked.
Shikamaru's father shoved and Shikamaru flew backwards, barely managing to catch himself before he crashed into the surrounding trees. Now a good distance away, he had a perfect view of his father fighting back against Root as they tried to pin him down.
He swallowed down a shout and paused. He needed to help, but... Shikamaru's eyes swayed to the side. Gaara was no longer moving.
Shikamaru's lips tightened. He circled around the fight and ran up to his friend. His father would be fine. He had to be. But Gaara?
The Sharingan was infamous for the effect it had on a Tailed Beast. Danzō didn't seem to have managed to brainwash the One-Tailed – yet. But whatever he'd done, it had clearly messed with Gaara.
"Gaara," Shikamaru called, sliding to a halt next to him. He reached out to grip Gaara's shoulders.
Gaara lashed out as soon as Shikamaru was close enough. Shikamaru leaped back – his cheek stung from a gash sliced into it by a sand whip – and watched as Gaara's gaze twitched around unseeing. His lips were pulled into a snarl, his eyes wild and desperate.
"Don't," he growled with a voice that no longer sounded like Gaara's.
He straightened up, gaze wild and muscles tense, looking into the surrounding forest as though– as though he was going to–
Shikamaru's eyes widened. He threw himself at Gaara just as he tried to make a run for it. Sand cushioned the impact and served as a barrier between them, but Shikamaru had accomplished his goal. Instead of trying to run, Gaara (or the thing that was half-Gaara, half-something else) snarled and turned on Shikamaru.
The demon's chakra leaked through and sent a shiver along Shikamaru's spine. He couldn't see Konoha's gates from here, but they weren't far. Gaara was struggling to stay in control – the color of his eyes flickering from teal to yellow, his skin crumbling away to reveal sand-colored patches underneath. Shikamaru couldn't allow him to get any nearer to Konoha.
It would be the Nine-Tail's rampage all over again.
"Alright," Shikamaru muttered, drawing a kunai and setting his stance as though they were simply preparing for a light sparring match. He tried to ignore the glimpses of the sand demon shimmering through. "Just focus on me."
Shikamaru clutched his weapon, set his brows in a firm line and charged at his friend.
Shikaku's jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. It was either that or letting out the scream building up in his throat – desperate instead of angry, born of fear rather than fury.
He took his eyes off of his opponents and paid for it with a kunai to his shoulder. It was worth it. He caught a glimpse of Shikamaru – on the other side of the clearing, rather than running like he'd told him to do. The urge to scream swelled and lodged itself painfully in his throat.
He created another clone, but it was swarmed immediately. There were too many of them. He couldn't fight all of them at once. He couldn't protect his son.
Help was on the way, but what if by the time they arrived, it was already too late? What if the next time he stole a glance at Shikamaru, it would be to find him lying limp on the ground?
"I wish you hadn't gotten involved," Danzō told him, watching his underlings as they tried to keep Shikaku down. Perhaps he was waiting for them to tire him out.
At least his attention was on Shikaku.
As soon as both Shikaku and Shikamaru had gotten out of this in one piece, Shikaku would get his answers. Currently, he knew next to nothing – nothing other than the fact that whatever had happened to his son, whatever had caused his erratic behavior, Danzō had to be behind it.
Had Danzō tried – and failed – to brainwash Shikamaru like those silent, broken puppets now fighting for him? Had Shikamaru stumbled over his plans and Danzō had attempted to silence him?
No matter which it was, Danzō would pay.
"How did you know where to find us?" Danzō asked, casual as though they were sitting together with a cup of tea. "Who else does?"
Shikaku didn't need to answer. The kunai Danzō was forced to dodge did it for him.
Shikaku's shadow clone disintegrated with its task done, its memories merging with Shikaku's own. He set his brows at the realization that Yoshino had come along but didn't say anything. Fugaku was on his way – notifying the rest of the village. Mikoto had already thrown herself into battle beside him, and a person Shikaku didn't recognize zeroed in on the jinchūriki.
"Don't let him lose control," Shikaku called. Whoever they were, they'd come with Mikoto and Yoshino – an ANBU perhaps, missing their mask.
The ANBU stiffened and darted a glance at Shikaku, but followed the order.
Shikaku breathed easier, knowing that Shikamaru was no longer all on his own.
Danzō had a Sharingan. He looked at Mikoto from a red-tinted iris, wielding her clan's ability. He'd gotten his hands on one of Mikoto's deceased clan members, mutilated their body and taken one of their eyes. And now he had a Sharingan.
Had Mikoto any less control over herself, she would be shaking with rage.
One of Danzō's mindless puppets tried to attack from behind, and Mikoto swatted them away like an irritating fly.
She wondered how old they'd been when Danzō'd snatched them up out of the village. How old were they now? How long had they served the man who'd ripped them out of their old lives? Had none of them had family who'd tried looking for them?
Mikoto knew the answer from the lack of missing people reports they'd found.
She dodged another attack and wove her way towards Danzō. Now that Shikaku was no longer on his own, he didn't have the option to simply watch.
Mikoto didn't have the luxury of caring what would happen to the Root shinobi. Shikaku and Yoshino – and Fugaku, once he'd finished calling in their backup – would take care of them as they saw fit.
Danzō was hers.
A/N: I've low-key hated my old summary for ages. I might pick something more permanent later, but for now this'll do.
My betas are Igornerd, To Mockingbird and PyrothTenka! Go check them out, they're all wonderful writers!
~Gwen
