He spent the most of his 17th birthday at his best friend's funeral. Ino stood nearby and while she played with the long strands of blonde hair that fell into her face – a childhood habit he was quite familiar with – he stared at the autumn leaves that blew around him. They whispered and shushed and puddled at his feet. He stared at them and counted five. One for Shikamaru, he thought. And another for Asuma Sensei. A third for Kurenai. A fourth for his father. And a fifth for his mother. He studied them and murmured to himself "one dead leaf for each dead soul"
He has dreaded autumn ever since.
Sakura's funeral was a year after Shikamaru's, down to the hour. Ino stood near him, yet again. This time however, she wasn't playing with her hair. Years of pain had taken their toll, and she leaned against him, holding back unshed tears. He let her, trying to ignore the leaves that still whirled around him, whispering their own sad stories, their own black days. They puddle at his feet yet again, and however hard he tried he couldn't ignore the 6th leaf that fell slowly to join the pile.
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At Ino's funeral, he decided the fates were playing games with him. Another autumn funeral. He stood alone this time. There was no Asuma Sensei to lean against, no Shikamaru to whisper to. But still he stood silently, never uttering a syllable. Tsunade Sama uttered the final heart wrenching words, signaling the end of the funeral.
And another sad leaf dropped to join the pile.