Shikamaru is dying.

From his angle, the autumn sky is clear, save for a few fluffy white clouds, the edges of his vision is framed by brilliant bursts of red and yellow maple leaf clusters. He has always loved the contrasting colors when he watches the sky from underneath a tree. The sky peeks through the leaves, never to be seen in its entirety; like the freedom he craves for this life, ever elusive. Everything up above seems to exist in blissful ignorance, even time itself is magically suspended; the trickles of the sand slow to an indiscernible wisp. Strange, that is how he feels now, suspended. He slowly blinks and the sky turns a shade of red, a trickle of blood has seeped from his brow down to his eye, coating his cornea.

This isn't so bad really. Everyone makes such a huge deal out of it, he thinks casually, but I really wish I could enjoy this last moment without all the noise.

"No, damnit! You stay with me, you bastard! You stay with me… stay…" Ino's pained wails drops into a choked whisper as she kneels next to him and clutches his hand desperately to her breast. "Sakura, do something!"

"Hush, Ino. Let me concentrate!" The pink-haired girl wears an intense mask of concentration, beads of sweat forming on her forehead and trickling down her nose, dripping soundlessly onto Shikamaru's gaping wounds, blending in with the bloody mess. It is a sickening sight; his entire left side is crushed, and his stomach is slashed open where pink viscera are visible. Around his body, a puddle of vibrant red slowly forms, sneakily seeping into the fabric of Sakura's pants. An orb of blue chakra forms between her cupped palms, and she gently presses it to Shikamaru's torso. After a few more of such attempts, she looks up at Ino's pleading eyes and helplessly shakes her head.

Ino. The name means something to the rough-haired, knot-browed Shikamaru, but he cannot quite recall who that is. His mind is a chaotic blur, and he feels cold. Sharp pain jabs at his chest, interrupting his thoughts, urging him to remember. It is an important name, the name of the most important person in his life. Suddenly, his line of vision darkens as a pair of pale blue eyes peers into his, eyes so blue they were the sky itself and he could lose himself watching them forever. Ah, I remember now. Ino. He smiles in satisfaction. It all seems so far away now, the years he has spent pretending she didn't mean anything more to him than some troublesome girl. All for this moment. She has never looked more beautiful than she does now, although she would disagree vehemently. Her cheeks crusted with dirt with tear streaks leaving clear tracks that reveal the porcelain skin beneath. Her pale blond hair stained with his blood and her clothes are torn from stumbling through the forest blindly, trying to carry him away from the battleground. Where her shoulder is visible through the rips, he can see a hideous bleeding gash. He frowns and tries to lift his hand to touch her but finds that he couldn't feel his body from the neck down.

"What is it? What…Do you need something? Anything!"

"I'm…dying, aren't I? Mendokusai…don't be so dramatic. It happens to everyone…eventually." His voice is barely above a strained rasp.

"Don't say that! You bastard, you promised we'd…do you still remember…?" Soft and sad, her warm breath gently brushes against his cheek. She uses a corner of her right sleeve to tenderly wipe away the trickle of blood that blinds his right eye.

"I remember…" he gasps and coughs as blood fills his lungs. His eyes are gradually losing their luster to settle into a mute glossy stare.

"No! Shika…stay, you bastard, stay! Sakura, oh my god, Sakura, do something…"

The frenzy around him blurs and fades as his consciousness plummets into a vacuum. In the darkness, he hears Ino's sobs and is momentarily saddened by the thought of not being apart of her world anymore. He welcomes the void with open arms, serene and calm. This is the beginning of the end, he thought; the end of his shackles of which he calls life and of love so intense it tortures his soul. Memories far away, like kites loose from its strings, drift through the skies of his mind as he falls farther and farther into nothingness.

To be continued…


Author's Note: Ahhh! I can't believe I just wrote that. It's so morbid, don't you think? This is not the end, worry not. This story will chronicle all what I imagine should happen to Shika. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I welcome any constructive criticism!