.
The sharp thorn often produces delicate roses.
Something warm impacted with Shikaku's back.
There he was, minding his own business, trying to take a nap on the mats in his own damn living room, when a small child—whom he was certain wasn't his own—ripped him from his slumber.
How troublesome.
He grunted and cracked an eye open to watch the little girl clamber up and over his back. She landed with a thump in front of his stomach, her face flushed and her breathing laboured.
"Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?" he asked.
Her hair was half-done, with a chunk of her long auburn locks pulled up into a bun, while the rest hung down her back in knots. She hadn't gotten dressed yet, either; she was still wearing the set of panda pyjamas that she had entered the house in rather than the traditional kimono that she had brought with her.
The girl shook her head. "Yeah," she breathed, "but Yoshino's scary."
Shikaku barked out a laugh—he wouldn't deny that. "Would you rather Maen do your hair and help you get in your kimono?"
He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted. "That… that's worse."
"I mean, I could try."
"No."
"Your loss—I'm good with hair."
"I don't believe you."
"I am," he drawled, his lips pulling up into a smirk. "I've had long hair all my life, and I do Shikamaru's hair."
"Your hair's not that great, though."
He flicked her on the forehead. She squawked, reeling back.
"Don't be rude."
"I'm not," she grumbled.
"That was rude."
"Why? I was being honest."
Shikaku stretched out on the floor like a cat, a sleepy smirk on his face. He drawled, "Honesty is rude."
Her face set itself into a pout, her arms crossed over her chest with a huff, and she turned away from him.
Shikaku found it interesting how much one kid could change in a matter of months with enough time and effort. When he saw Kasumi like this, full of life and attitude, he could hardly reconcile her with the sullen child Maen first dragged through the village gates. He never doubted that she would improve—if he had, he wouldn't have pushed Maen to take her in. Setting his cousin up with a lost cause would've been cruel. This much improvement this fast, though, went beyond his expectations, and it was one of the few times Shikaku was glad to be surprised.
Kasumi opened her mouth, ready to rebut his words, when footsteps thundered down the hall. Shikaku's entire body went cold—Kasumi wasn't the only person who hadn't gotten dressed yet.
Yoshino had asked him an hour ago to get dressed. He said he would. He lied. He knew his wife would be too occupied to nag him, so he took the opportunity to catch a bit more sleep before the festivities for the evening kicked off. They'd be up for most of the night, after all, and he wanted to be well rested. Nothing wrong with that.
He cursed his sleep-addled mind. He should have known better than to stick around after realizing the kid had escaped his wife—she led Yoshino right to him. Now, instead of only Kasumi dying a premature death at the hands of his wife, they were both going to be crushed like gnats.
He went to get up but a hand grabbed at his shirt.
Kasumi had a fistful of the fabric in her hands, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on the hallway from which her impending doom would emerge.
"If I go down," she whispered, "you're going down with me."
Before he could slip from her grasp Yoshino rounded the corner, wearing an expression that promised eternal damnation to those who had wronged her. Her eyes first went to the girl, then flicked up to what the girl was holding onto—him.
The destructive aura swirling around Yoshino increased tenfold.
He let out a resigned sigh, his posture drooping into an exaggerated slouch.
Damn it.
.
.
Shikamaru pulled on the sleeve of her kimono, lifted it up to eye level and stared at it. "That looks troublesome."
It was bright pink and flowery and long, the sleeves draping down so low that they almost dragged along the ground when her hands were at her sides. She didn't look particularly thrilled to be wearing it, in Shikamaru's opinion. She kept yanking at it and tugging at it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
He had never seen her in a kimono before. He didn't think it suited her.
Kasumi snorted. "It is."
"Don't say that!" Ino snapped. "Your kimono is pretty!"
Ino, on the other hand, looked plenty comfortable in her lavender and white kimono.
"It's itchy," Kasumi muttered, fidgeting in place and grimacing. "It's really tight, too."
Kasumi pulled at the fabric and tried to loosen the obi, but Ino smacked her hand away. "You're gonna wreck it."
"Are you cold?" Choji asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
She shrugged. "Kinda," she admitted. "But it's got layers. So it's not too bad."
Shikamaru could see her shivering despite her words. It was the end of December, the middle of winter—it was cold outside. He was cold, and he was pretty confident his kimono was made of a thicker material than hers.
As if his thoughts were in the same vein, Choji ambled forward and wrapped his arms around Kasumi. He squeezed her to his chest like she was a teddy bear. In response, Kasumi wheezed out a breath and patted Choji's arm, nearly swallowed up by Choji.
"Not so tight—you're gonna break her!" Ino cried.
"Yeah," Kasumi choked out, wiggling in his grip, "a little."
Choji let out a sheepish laugh and lightened his grip. "Better?"
Kasumi grinned. "Better." She turned her eyes to Shikamaru and jerked her head in his direction. "C'mere."
She stared at him, her eyes wide and her head tilted, the same look the fawn always gave Shikamaru when he had food with him. He saw no reason to try and argue with her—he never won. His life was easier when he just did what she wanted.
He walked over and hugged her free side, opposite of Choji.
Kasumi hummed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "So warm."
Ino huffed. "You guys are weird. I'm gonna go bug daddy."
"Awh, Ino," Kasumi said, her voice coated with false sweetness. "Come on—don't you wanna hug?"
"Nu-uh. I don't wanna get my hair or kimono messed up."
"Your loss."
Ino walked off in search of their parents, and the three of them stayed like that, cuddled up in the middle of the street as people walked past them.
Shikamaru went to break away from the group when Kasumi's hand latched onto the back of his kimono and held him in place. He let out a sigh of resignation and his shoulders slumped into a slouch. He was stuck there until she was ready to let go.
Troublesome.
.
.
"Bite."
Shikamaru stuck his dango stick out to his left, in the general direction of her face. He saw her shift in his peripheral as she ducked down to take a bite of the sweet-tasting snack.
"Bite," he said.
Kasumi held out her mochi as she chewed and Shikamaru pulled off a chunk of it and popped the cake into his mouth.
The festival was in full swing around them; the night was still in its infancy. Most people were returning to the streets from their trip to the shrine, the bells having rung and their udon having been consumed, the first day of the New Year upon them. Games were being played, drinks were being drunk, and laughter was being had.
Shikamaru was ready to go home, though—he was tired.
He and Kasumi snuck away when the adults began talking.
Shikamaru didn't know who any of those people were, Ino's family aside, but both his parents and his uncle had been familiar with them; his father had introduced them as 'work friends'. Or, he thought that was what his father had said. Shikamaru hadn't paid much attention as he was too busy fantasizing about being curled up under his covers at home.
"If we're quick, we can probably sleep for a couple of minutes before they come wake us up."
"Mom said she'd ground me if she caught me sleeping."
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
He threw a frown at her. "You don't have to do the dishes for a week if you get caught sleeping—Maen won't be mad if you nap."
She shrugged. "Then I'll sleep and you can watch me do it."
She took another bite of her mochi, passed the rest of it to him, and placed herself up against his side. It felt like mere seconds passed when she started snoring.
Shikamaru groaned. How troublesome.
His eyes shifted back to where the adults were and honed in on Ino, who clung to her father like he might disappear if she let go, and then he looked back to Kasumi.
He supposed she wasn't that troublesome.
.
.
Shikaku watched the interaction with a small, amused grin.
Maen and Kasumi sat on one of the benches a ways off. She was settled on his lap, her back leant into his chest and her head tipped into the crook of his neck. His chin skimmed the top of her head. His arms were behind him, palms pressed into the grass to brace their combined weight.
Above them, the fireworks were in full effect. That was the reason their little group gathered in one of Konoha's largest civilian parks, taking a short break from the rest of the New Years festivities.
Kasumi's attention was glued to the sky above her. Shikaku knew it was her first time seeing fireworks, having overheard their conversation. Her violet eyes were stretched wide as she gazed up in wonderment, enraptured by the litany of colours sparking to life against the obsidian backdrop.
Maen wasn't watching the show. His eyes were cast down to stare at the tiny thing in his lap. His expression was tender, with the lines around his eyes soft and his lips pulled up into a smile.
Had somebody told Shikaku a year ago that this was what would become of his cousin, he'd have called them a dirty liar. A doting familial figure to a four-year-old girl who had him wrapped around her pinky finger? No, he would have asked them what genjutsu they were under, and then subsequently told them to fuck off.
He would admit, however, with no small amount of smugness, that he had been right all those months ago when he guessed that the kid would be good for Maen. Orchestrating their coming together had been a pain, as had been the subsequent efforts to keep Maen around the village whenever possible, but Shikaku knew it was worth it.
His baby cousin deserved the dose of happiness, as did the child in his lap.
They were damn good for each other.
He heard a stifled laugh off to his right. He turned to see that Yoshino had caught sight of the two as well and had lifted a hand to cover her mouth, the tips of her lips peeking out from behind it to reveal her smile. Shikamaru had fallen asleep in much the same position Kasumi was in, cradled in Yoshino's arms with his face buried in her neck.
"I told you we should have brought the camera," she murmured.
"Yeah," Shikaku drawled. "Next year."
She nodded, turning her gaze back to Shikamaru and running a hand through his hair.
Shikaku pushed his shoulder against hers and wrapped an arm around her waist. Together, their group watched the rest of the fireworks, a happy ending to a happy evening.