Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.


The river coursed quietly through Konoha on a late afternoon. The sun was descending as puffs of white drifted across a warm sky. A flock of birds passed through on their way home, singing. Underneath a cherry blossom tree, a girl leaned her head against the base and watched the beautiful menagerie of colors above. How did she never notice how alluring the heavens looked from the ground? Undisturbed. Completely at peace.

A boy lay sprawled out on the ground beside her, his head nested cozily in her lap. Her fingers took amusement in twirling the ends of his ponytail. Now and then he would doze off; the light snore no longer bothered her. Little did she know, it was an act. Through peaked lids, he watched as she remained captivated by his favorite spot in the village. The rare sparkle of awe in her green eyes was one of the world's many wonders. And here he had the perfect view.

The last of the sun began to flee and they resolved to head home. As he got up, he yawned. She offered to carry him if he was too "tired to walk." He rolled his eyes. She never missed a chance, did she?

She led the charge home as if she'd lived there her whole life. It was a straight path from the river for four blocks: past the flower shop, past the restaurant where they had their first date. Three blocks right, a left by the cemetery. Two more blocks, past this wide, yet modest house with a "For Sale" sign tacked on the front lawn to which her attention would drift sometimes.

Her apartment was concealed by shadows at the edge of the village. Decorative fans and ornaments lined the hallway. A shogi board leaned against the coffee table for when a frequent visitor wanted to play, and a pot of sunflowers sat on the window sill. It was small, but it was hers. She cooked her own meals, did her own laundry. No siblings to hassle over, though she had come to love when Kurenai stopped by with her daughter. How excited the child was to clasp onto her leg and be paraded around the apartment. The mother would chuckle, exasperated: Mirai was quite the handful. The girl did not mind.

Aside from visitors, the girl was on her own, and she relished the freedom. That evening, the boy would stay the night as he promised her. Their one-year anniversary.

A forceful breeze swept a dozen cherry blossom leaves clean off the tree; they swirled around each other in a pleasant evening dance. She glanced at her side. The boy had fallen behind. Such a slowpoke. He should have let her carry him like she offered! She turned around to tell him just that.

He was kneeling. Left knee bent, right knee kissing pavement. The leaves continued their dance in the space between them. They were in the final rays of sunlight.

He stared at her feet. A violent twitch overtook his nose. Still, he kept his position. Her own knees began trembling like a newborn fawn as she approached him, slowly.

She made a joke to lighten the mood. He responded with a nervous chuckle, but he must have looked sick because she asked if he was alright. His tongue short-circuited.

This wasn't the right time. Everyone had sworn it was the right time, but what did they know? He should've waited and let the two of them enjoy the time they had together without the threat of the future hanging over them. Why did he have to push things?

He knew why, though it pained him to think about. Her appointment in the village wasn't permanent. Anything could take her away: family emergency, sudden military shortage. The future was a grey, stormy cloud. Lingering, threatening to ruin their peaceful days. It hung over them whether they liked it or not. The thought of her leaving this time, without her knowing how he felt...he couldn't fathom it.

They often poked around the topic. Marriage. How silly it was. Most couples didn't even like each other.

"Why would anyone marry a damn stranger? Ridiculous. What a waste of time."

"Alright, alright, I get it. Message received. I won't ask then." It was an innocent joke he thought, but one in which she replied without a hint of insincerity.

"You're not a stranger."

He blinked. Was she...?

In his younger years, he would often tell his Sensei that he didn't care who he grew old with, how pretty she was, what house they'd live in together. None of it mattered. As long as she didn't nag him. All he wanted after a long day of work was to watch the sky, undisturbed. Alone.

The teacher would laugh. "Take it easy. You may change your mind." The student was sure he wouldn't.

But he was also sure when the time came that his easygoing teacher would be around to help him. Pick out the ring, handle all the incidentals. And if not him, then certainly his enigmatic father. Neither of these things turned out to be true.

The number of times the boy was forced to say goodbye to others, permanently, was cruel. Every time he walked the girl home, past the cemetery, he was reminded of this. This was the thought that propelled him forward, allowing his hand to move while the rest of him stayed frozen.

The next move he made would either be the bravest or stupidest thing he had ever done.


That night, Temari was a mouse.

Shikamaru could only imagine what had transpired between her and Gaara. After the others had left, Temari reapproached him with dim, foreboding energy. She forced a smile, and they continued planning. Ultimately, they settled on the white camellias with the advisor. Something to bring a "cool, bliss merriment" as it was so put to them.

In the waning hours of light, the two of them parted with the advisor and trekked back to her room, Temari without a single word. Shikamaru might as well have been invisible beside her.

"I hope that kid is okay. Your brother was really worried about him."

No reply.

"Well, your village Anbu is some of the best so I'm sure they'll find the intruder." He nudged her for consensus. When she did not acknowledge him, he concluded it was best to continue in silence.

The walk was made longer by his growing suspicion that they were being followed. He turned his head over his shoulder, stealing a glimpse at an empty hallway. No one was trailing them from what he saw. Unease was at an all-time high around the house; it must have been rubbing off on him.

Now the clock on her bedside read 12:40 A.M. She laid with her back towards him. Her wavy blonde hair fell past her shoulders, smelling of fresh lilacs. Absently, Shikamaru noted how much it had grown since their first date. Her complexion had lost some of its color and her skin felt cold through her nightshirt. This current side of her was unfamiliar to him, almost detached in a way that scared him.

He recalled how affectionate she'd been when they arrived that first evening, back when his biggest worry was getting to dinner on time. What he would give now for even half of that attention. It was 12:58 AM, and he was going back and forth in his head一wishing for attention, cursing himself for being selfish and needy, wishing for attention, cursing himself. He never had this much trouble falling asleep. If anything, she was typically the restless sleeper. The first night he ever stayed over, her body claimed most of the bed; she woke up, red in the face, to see three-quarters of him lying on the floor, the other quarter hanging onto the mattress for dear life.

It helped when he held her. One arm around her waist, feet nudged together. From this position, she would not move and they both would find rest.

He tried this maneuver now, hoping the familiarity would help him sleep. But he could not stop fidgeting. At some point, it must have become utterly unbearable because she rolled over to face him. Her stare was as blank as ice.

"Sorry. I'll stop moving," he mumbled. If he kept this up, he would be demoted to sleep on the floor. Or, so he thought. For without warning, she leaned forward and kissed him on the bridge of his nose.

His skin tingled at the sudden, lingering contact. Blood rushed his face; he was glowing tomato red. Was it possible she was reading him, sensing what it was he wanted through his muddle of midnight thoughts? She paused, took his chin in her hand, and kissed him again. Locks of her bangs fell over his temples. The lilac aroma flooded his senses. The resurgence of familiarity between them was comforting. He closed his eyes as her lips made their way to his. There was no better feeling. She whispered something near his ear, so faint he almost missed it.

"Thank you for being here."

"Huh? I mean, sure." He paused to tug at the collar of his tee which was now supremely sweatier than when he went to bed. Ultimately, it was good to hear her voice again. She looked down, weirdly ashamed all of sudden.

"I know this trip didn't go as planned. Things could be different," she said.

"Really? All things considered, I'm having a good time. Great food. I don't have to keep my own schedule. Or do my own laundry. It never rains—that's a plus."

That icy stare returned to her.

"You can stop pretending now."

"Pretending?"

She sat up. "That's what I mean. You're acting so nonchalant, but everything feels...wrong. Do either of us even like camellias? Why not daisies? Or tulips?"

"I thought you didn't care about the flowers."

"I don't."

Shikamaru propped himself up on his forearm so that they were level. This wasn't about decorations.

She grumbled, "This is exactly why I didn't want the ceremony here. Everyone's making it such a big deal..."

"Are you sure something else isn't bothering you?"

She did not reply.

"Temari, if this is about the attacks..."

"Of course not!"

"...if it is, then I think it would be best to let him handle it."

She tensed. It was clear to her who "him" was referring to, one of the only people who could cause her this much vexation and concern. Her head dropped causing her bangs to fall over most of her face. She was a different person, hiding behind her hair like this. He nudged her gently.

"All I'm saying is you should trust him more."

"It's not that simple. It's never been that simple. He overworks himself. He doesn't sleep. He can never drop his defenses. It's not fair."

Her voice was low, her fist clenched.

"It's because of what they did to him. Because of them, he'll be resented for the rest of his life. I hate them for that." The more she talked, the more the words came out freely and unprompted.

"He tries so hard to make up for the past. He would give his life for this place. It doesn't matter. Someone will always be after him. They won't stop until he's gone, or dead. That's all this is about." She fisted the pillow next to her: it felt good. She hit it again. And again, each subsequent punch losing power.

"That's all this has ever been about!"

She was shaking. Her lungs felt heavy in her chest. Everything she'd been suppressing was coming out without her permission. Shikamaru grabbed hold of her hands and steadied her towards him, cradling her head on his shoulder. In the back of her mind, it hit her: I must be a wreck right now. Despite all this, her ego was too big to let her cry on anyone's shoulder, even on that of the person she trusted most.

"It'll be okay," he whispered into the top of her head. "Things will work out. I promise."

He would not let go. She was the most worrisome she'd ever been—punching inanimate objects, trembling and heaving—and he would not let her go. She nodded slowly, sinking into him again to form a cocoon. She was completely beside herself. Scared, vulnerable, all things she hated to see in herself. She had maintained more composure in the height of battle than she was able to do now. How was it that he was seeing the worst side of her and choosing to stay?

From her mouth came a sigh of release. She didn't question it. Whatever the reason, she was grateful. For once in her life, she let things be.

"You know, if you want to cry, you can cry. No one will shame you." His voice was soft and earnest. The clock read 1:36 AM as the crickets clicked steadily in the night.

"That's alright. You make enough tears for the both of us."

"...I walked into that one."

"Seriously. You'd be perfect during drought season."

He groaned. "Why do I even try with you?" She could feel the pressure in her chest relieving as she nestled herself closer.

"There's nothing wrong with being a crybaby; I like that you're so honest. We could never cry as kids—it was a sign of weakness. Over time, we learned to keep things to ourselves."

He listened, patiently. She was naturally brave, but it must've taken her a lot of courage to share that with him.

"Well, it's just me around. Cry, if you want. If anyone asks—I didn't see a thing." She genuinely laughed. It was exactly the impartial, yet caring response she needed.

"Thank you."


The sun had barely risen when she emerged from the bathroom in a soft, lavender apron dress. Stretching out his limbs and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he surveyed the person in front of him. She had replaced her shinobi sandals with a pair of flats. Her two ponytails were placed further down on her head so that they fell below her ears. He did a double-take: she sure looked a lot like Temari. He recognized the lilac scent from a few feet away. Then again, he could've been dreaming—

"UP!" A pair of pants were launched his way, landing lop-sided across his face. "There's no sleeping in."

It was confirmed: definitely not a dream.

As he passed her on his way to the bathroom, he noticed she was fixated by something in her bedside drawer. From it gleaned a tiny, shiny ornament.

"That's a nice pin," he yawned. "Is it for your hair or something?"

Temari swiftly stuffed it away and shut the drawer.

"It's not important," she muttered. Odd. He paused, one arm bent on the bathroom threshold. His pants hung on the crook like a clothing hanger.

"You look different today. The gentle look suits you."

"I, well—uh—d-damn you! Just get dressed already!" Her ears were burning: a shameless giveaway. A self-satisfied smile crept on his face as he was brushing his teeth. He loved messing with her.

Later that morning, outside a pair of mysterious doors, the advisor introduced the two of them to their new bodyguard.

"Bodyguard?" Temari asked. No one seemed to tell her anything these days; it was getting on her nerves.

"Don't worry, he's highly skilled. Straight from special services. Hand-selected by Lord Kazekage himself."

It could have been his imagination, but Shikamaru detected a hint of glee in the advisor's words, which felt severely out-of-place given the circumstances. Things must have been worse than what Gaara was letting on. Why was she so giddy then? From the shadows, he made his entrance. They saw him before they could hear him.

Shikamaru stuffed his hands in his pockets. Oh.

Shira was a human giant. A fearsome tower. His chiseled face, broad chest, and wide, sturdy shoulders cast a lengthy shadow over the group. His mop of gray hair complemented his rugged brown eyes. Bandages lined his right arm, preceded by an elaborate dragon tattoo on his bicep. Shikamaru faintly remembered him from an exam he'd proctored a while back; Shira was built like a boulder then, but his stint in special services had made him put on more muscle. If that was even possible. Ultimately, the bodyguard looked like one of those guys in magazines that the Academy girls would gush over before class.

Shikamaru hated those guys. It was damn near impossible to snooze with "He's so hot!" and "This one looks like Sasuke!" ringing in his ears. In the present, he could feel himself shrinking in his black clan sweater. He looked away defiantly. If only he took taijutsu more seriously.

Shira bowed before them. "It is my honor to guard the princess, and her company."

The advisor was nearly squealing. Temari glanced away, neither acknowledging nor denying the gesture. Was it just his imagination, or did she look a tad flushed? He found comfort in the familiar clicking of his lighter deep in his pocket.

Sparing further introduction, Hibiki knocked on the ancient-looking doors in a stilted, offbeat pattern. Then waited. Silence. He glanced around. The guard was standing behind them, arms crossed, with a stoic mask.

Just pretend he's not here. Suddenly, the doors creaked open and Shikamaru stumbled back in surprise. For his sake, he avoided the looks of pitiful concern aimed his way.

Behind the heavy doors stood a long, lowly lit room. A red walkway linked the door to the far end. Two sets of tables lined the sides, mirroring each other. On the far end sat a modest shrine with a bell laid across the front. In front of the shrine sat three flat round cups. The aroma of aged sake stained the air.

"Welcome to your ceremony venue. Don't be shy."

Temari was frozen. How crazy was it that after all these years she had never entered this room? The last known wedding in this house was that of her own parents, four months before she was born. It wasn't lost on her that the council planned both ceremonies for April, over twenty years apart. She'd come to expect that brand of twisted humor from those old men.

Her stomach was churning. Her legs were somewhere off on another planet because they refused to walk forward. Welcome to your ceremony venue.

Shikamaru tapped her shoulder. "Hey, you're not sick, are you?" She shook her head fiercely but was mute. His fingers found themselves intertwined with hers.

"Let's go in together," he said. She took a huge breath as if she were diving into deep waters.

They walked down the aisle at a measured pace. The room was ridiculously warm; no one had cracked a window in two decades. If Shikamaru wasn't there keeping her steady, she'd probably faint, face-first, on the walkway. She cursed herself for being this visibly weak.

"Lord Kazekage and Lord Kankuro will sit over here. The elders...here. The daimyo and friends...maybe here." The advisor had everything mapped to a tee.

The pair reached the end, just before the shrine. They stood and faced each other. She pondered the soft expression on his face. What was he feeling? Scared? Regretful? Was this all too much too fast? He took her face in his hand, his fingers grazing the back of her ear. For a moment, they said nothing.

"You look really pretty today."

She did a double-take. Me?

"Me?"

"Well...yeah. I know, earlier I said 'different'. But that's not what I meant. What I meant was, today you look especially nice."

He was hardcore blushing now. There was no hiding it in this very closed, intimate setting.

"B-but it's not just today! When you're in battle, I think you look super...scary, but also really...nice? B-but you also have so many other amazing traits so..." He took such a huge gulp his throat throbbed.

I ruined it, he thought.

"I like your sweater一it suits you. You look very handsome today."

He blinked. She had to be kidding.

His face must have telegraphed this because she insisted, "It does! You look nice in black. Give yourself more credit."

"Don't flatter me, woman."

She slapped his arm with the least amount of strength. This whole thing wasn't nearly as scary as she thought.

Shira came forth, scanning the area around the shrine with great intensity. He ran his palms over several spots on the wall, lifted the bell to see underneath. Shikamaru tried to keep his eyes trained on Temari, realizing how important this moment was for them. But the guard's random activity was way too prominent in his periphery for him not to notice. Finally, Temari asked the question:

"Shira...what are you doing?"

"Checking for traps. Weapons. Signs of danger. We can't be too careful."

Shikamaru faked a cough. "Yeah, but you saw for yourself: the door opened with a code. A particular sequence of knocks. How would someone know the way in without the code?"

The guard nodded. "Fair point. Still, I must check."

"Okay. But we were kind of in the middle of something."

"My apologies. You may continue when I've finished."

"Well, it's ruined now."

Hibiki stepped forward, chuckling nervously, and ushering them all away. "Let's not argue in front of the shrine! Come along..."

Exiting the room, the guard trailed behind at a fair distance. Under his breath, Shikamaru was vehemently whispering things he couldn't say in his mother's house. It was getting increasingly hard to ignore the guard's presence. At least this explained the weird chill he got yesterday when the two were walking back to her room: it was Shira following his assignment.

As if Temari even needs protection, Shikamaru thought. She could handle a hundred enemies easily with one swing of her fan. Which begged the question: what was Gaara's true purpose for sending Shira to them? On their left side, the advisor was babbling about cake or something. It was hard to listen. His mind was continually bombarded by those stupid magazines. The memories haunted him, refusing to let him rest.

One time, he recalled, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Ugh, would you all just shut up already? They're not even that great! I swear girls drool over anything..."

Choji paused from his morning snack to evaluate his friend. What had gotten into him? To the rest of them, he may as well have been a gnat, the way they waved off his outburst and flipped to the next page.

"Don't mind him. He's just jealous," Ino said.


The rest of the day was a downward spiral from which Shikamaru could not recover.

The mailroom was a disaster. The tall, arched chamber was buzzing with activity as paper flew angrily in every direction. A line of messenger birds sat ready to go on the outside perch. Hibiki handed them both a stack of card invitations with elaborately garnished borders on slightly faded stationery. The word "RSVP," printed in ultra-curly text, was viewable from space. A laced bow topped each one.

"Damn it all," Temari grumbled. She addressed the only two people she knew to invite and tucked them away in her arms.

Shikamaru, on the other hand, had a few more friends and family to address (the Nara Clan was quite sizable). By the time he got to his own mother's card, his hand was cramped. Leaning against the perch, he made the mistake of cracking his knuckles next to a startled bird, causing a torrent of irate squawking. Several mailroom staff turned their heads from inside.

"Not again! Who was it this time?"

"Who else? It was the new guy..."

"The one with the funny-looking ponytail?"

Shikamaru covered his ears from the alarming noise. Finally, Shira stepped forward with a palmful of seeds from his vest pocket. The bird paused mid-squawk, surveyed him, then began pecking eagerly from his hand.

"They're quite peaceful creatures. But they hate being taken by surprise," the guard said.

Damn it all. Shikamaru addressed his last invite, mailed it off, and hightailed it out of the mailroom. The staff eyed the group closely on their way out.

He wished that was the height of his humiliation.

The photographer forgot his name (or rather never bothered to learn it) every other sentence. More than once he called him by Shira's name rather than his own. Temari was adamant in correcting the error, which made him feel ten times worse.

Then there was the dance instructor, who told him candidly that he had two left feet, making it impossible for him to properly lead the wedding dance. It didn't help that Temari was pissy over being assigned the "follower" role in the dance. Several passersby stopped and stared in awe at the troubling scene: what looked to be a gangly deer struggling, and failing, to tame a wild bull. It was unnatural. Disturbing. The advisor could only stomach so much second-hand embarrassment.

"W-we should attempt this another time. Please, stop." It was much more a plea than a request.

From the corner, the bodyguard gave a short nod in agreement. Never had a deer looked so homicidal.

By the time they reached the kitchen, the pair was exhausted from being paraded about like zoo animals. Hibiki circled around to speak with the chef. The guard was somewhere, scouring the scene for traps or whatever he called it. Shikamaru had no additional energy to care. He collapsed on a seat near a silver table at which a giant, five-tiered cake stood proudly. It towered over both of them. Temari took in the delicacy. Strawberry filling oozed from the side. White icing swirled around the edge of each tier. A vine of roses made of batter spiraled intricately from top to bottom. Perhaps, it was because of the busy day but her mouth was salivating at the sight.

"Woah."

He looked up. "Huh. They really outdid themselves."

"I suppose...they want us to sample it. It's only right that we try a little." She made a rabid grab for a spoon to which he raised an eyebrow.

"What? Don't look at me like that."

"Have you never had cake before?"

She shrugged. "We couldn't have it much growing up. Anything sweet was off-limits, especially before dinner."

"Tough break."

She scooped a tiny chunk off the bottom tier and dangled it near his face.

"You first. C'mon, it'll cheer you up."

"I don't know, Temari."

Her face was devilish. "I'll feed it to you."

"You're nothing but trouble..." he grumbled. But, ultimately he obliged and was pleasantly surprised.

The fresh strawberry taste could only be described as paradise on a spoon. It was like every misstepーevery humiliation, every botched momentーhad evaporated into nothing. All was right in the world. She smirked at him, pleased with his reaction. Not content with her having the last laugh, he swiped the spoon from her and scooped another chunk.

"Your turn," he said.

"Hmmm, I don't know..."

He leaned closer. "If I get in trouble for this, then so do you."

"Whatever," she chuckled, coming closer.

The horror scene unraveled in slow motion: the spoon less than a centimeter from her mouth; the lightning flash of a six-foot blur darting across the room, edging itself between the two like a massive blockade. No sound preceded him; he was that quick. Shikamaru flew back from his chair, colliding with the wall of silver utensils behind him. A fork plucked him on the head. Thankfully, the knives were not out. On the other side, Temari fumbled against the table, her arm grazing the side of the cake and sending batter flying. Everywhere.

"Sh-Shira?"

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" Shikamaru struggled to get up amid all the fallen items. The guard plucked the spoon for which the couple was about to share off the floor.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance. But I haven't authorized this cake for consumption."

The Leaf shinobi was fuming, steam whistling out the ears. He didn't know he could be so mad at someone who was (supposedly) not his enemy. The bodyguard had made him look like a complete idiot for the umpteenth time that day. This was the last straw.

Shira maintained his dignified exterior as he explained himself. "The enemy has already infiltrated the nursing staff and there may be others lurking. We know they use poison. If they've tampered with this cake, I will be the first one to verify."

Shikamaru grunted. "Fine. But I did try some first. If it was poisoned, don't you think I'd be dead by now?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"My primary task is to guard the princess. If anyone will die for her safety, it will be me."

Shikamaru gritted his teeth.

"Relax, both of you!" She might as well have been refereeing two dogs in a ring.

Shira bowed, apologetically. "I meant you all no offense. When I received my task this morning, Lord Gaara instructed me not to trust anyone."

"What? Does that include me?" Shikamaru asked.

When the guard offered him no reply, it only confirmed his suspicions: that he himself was under suspicion. Temari tugged his sleeve.

"Shikamaru, quit it. That's not what he meant."

They stood ten paces from the other, neither ego willing to concede. Temari stood in the middle, peeved. It seemed like everything Gaara did lately was purposefully designed to worry or piss her off. She might as well have been dealing with her father. When the chef and advisor walked in, horrified, she instantly felt like a little kid again, waiting for the hammer to fall.

The chef looked like he was near tears. His masterpieceーscattered across the kitchen like a crime scene. She came forward immediately, lowering her head.

"This is my fault. I went to try your cake without your permission, and things, uh...anyway, this is my fault. I'm so sorry."

The chef sighed but ultimately accepted this coming from her. The other two stood behind her, the guilt kicking in. Neither wanted to cause her further shame. The three cleaned up the mess themselves: scrubbed the counter, put every utensil back where it belonged. Despite the messy blow, the cake remained intact (for the most part). Because of this the chef relinquished all hard feelings and gave her a tall bottle of sake as a peace offering. It now sat expectantly on the table. No one made a grab for it.

Shira was the first to break the silence.

"Lady Temari, I'm truly sorry for causing you trouble. Shikamaru, sir, I believe I've overstepped the bounds on my assignment. I will ask Lord Gaara to assign you another guard, if that's what you both wish."

Temari hesitated. Slapping on a temporary bandage wouldn't fix the bigger issue. Shikamaru crossed his arms; he knew a trick question when he saw it.

Gaara already suspected him or, at least, didn't trust him. If he said yes to the switch, Gaara would only grow wearier of him. He realized that it was his own fault for never reporting back what he found in the elder's office. At the time, he thought he owed it to Temari to inform her first, but he paid for his disobedience. The trust between the Kazekage and himself had been irrevocably wounded. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Then again, if he said no...he'd have to deal with Shira for the rest of the trip. A real stalemate.

"What will it be?"

Shikamaru lowered his head, dejected. "I'm going to get some air. Temari, you should decide."

"Butー"

He left before she could finish.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the advisor chatting with the chef about rescheduling the sampling for a later date. The guard apologized again, but Temari barely heard. Somewhere along the way, things had fallen off course. And she wasn't certain what, if anything, could bring them back to normal.


She found him on a nearby balcony, smoking a cigarette he'd stash on the side of his left sock. His lighter sat on the ledge. Rings of grey smoke puffed from his lips. He could see the entire north side of the village cast in a smoldering orange glow. In full view like this, the landscape was quite enchanting. He could've been watching a movie.

Why did I think I could fit in here?

She tapped him on his shoulder. When he saw who it was he nearly tossed himself over the side. In a desperate act, he tried to stomp out the cigarette and blow the evidence away.

"It's not what it looks like!"

The cloud of smoke lingered in the still desert air. Even the environment was against him. She rolled her eyes.

"I know you smoke when no one's around, genius. You do a pretty shit job of trying to hide it." She flicked a speck of ash off his collar.

"Oh."

"So smart, yet so…"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't remind me. I know I messed up."

She said nothing. They both looked like they survived a stampede. Her dress was all smudged; his sweater suffered a hole through the shoulder. And after they had insisted how nice the other looked today. She would not admit it, but she imagined today would be one they would look back on fondly. Holding hands down the aisle for the first time. Trying their wedding cake together. All the things she would scoff at seeing other couples do, but which she thought would be a bit nice to do herself, with the right person. How badly she wanted this day to work, to not worry about any intruders or where she stood with her brothers.

"I told Shira it'd be best to switch guards."

"Really?"

Her green eyes softened. "Of course. You're my guest. You should feel at home here."

He was taken aback by Temari's sincerity. Secretly, there was another reason Shikamaru couldn't agree to the switch himself. If he did, everyone would know how insecure the bodyguard made him feel. Shira was everything he wasn't, everything she probably deserved. He resented the thought: but if she ended up with someone like Shira, she wouldn't have to worry about being labeled a traitor, among other false, spiteful things. And then there were the many "suitors" Tojuro said she had over dinner, all the men ready to take his place should he fail to meet the challenge. What then made Shikamaru so special?

Suddenly, she pulled something from her dress pocket. A shiny pin.

The one from this morning. She brought it along? He thought she said it was unimportant.

"I was considering wearing this today. It's a welcome-home gift from an old friend. But when you asked about it, I got kinda guilty because...I didn't tell her that I wasn't staying."

"I see."

"I was going to tell her at the festival." She whipped her head left and right, cupped her hand over her mouth, and leaned forward. "But between you and me, she's always had this huge crush on her teammate. That would be Shira."

He nodded slowly, recalling how red Temari looked when the guard made his entrance. Oh...

"When I saw he was our guard, I panicked. What if he tells her the truth? I guess that's what I get for lying. Gah, I'm such an idiot!"

His laugh was sour as he stuffed the lighter away. "You and I both. All I do is act like an idiot. And embarrass you."

"You don't embarrass me."

"Look who's pretending now."

"You do not embarrass me."

He raised his fingers and started counting. "Let's see. There was the mailroom, the photographer. I can't lead the dance, I messed up the kitchenー"

"None of that was your fault, Shikamaru! Why do you insist on making yourself out to be this big burden?"

"Because. You wouldn't have all these problems if you just told me 'no'!"

She stepped back, baffled.

"Why would I tell you 'no'?"

He did not reply. He had messed up. Again. Her face grew dark.

"I don't know what you're getting at. But if you're implying I said 'yes' because I thought this would be easy, then you must not know me. At all! Yeah, this is stressful. And I wish we could spend more time together, just the two of us. But I didn't say 'yes' to you on a whim. How could you think that?"

With wide eyes, he was not sure to trust what he was seeing.

"Do you think I'd go through this with anyone? Why would I pack up and leave everything I know to be with someone who didn't make me feel completely safe and at home and...and…"

She jutted her chin away, rebuking the water welling in the corner of her eyes. The dam had finally cracked.

"Damn you and your stupid smoke."

He wiped a tear off her cheek. "I'm sorry. For the smoke."

"You should be."

"And for everything else. Whether it was my fault or not. I let some things get to me. It won't happen anymore."

"I don't care about all that. Just don't leave me stranded like that again. Okay?"

The sun sat low in the sky. They took a moment to bask in its orange glow, pinkies linked over the ledge of the balcony. She let the heat dry her face. There were still things she wasn't ready to say aloud. She wished she was better with words. She wished she could express just how much she thought of him, how much he'd grown as a person. She wished she wasn't afraid to cry. The last of the sun began to set, sinking the landscape into dusk.

"Dinner will be soon," she said.

"I'm not all that hungry."

"Me neither." They traded knowing grins.

Returning inside, they headed straight for the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of sake off the table, and called it a night. The advisor cocked her head in bewilderment. This wasn't part of the schedule. They did not care. Off to the side, the bodyguard stood with his arms crossed, eyes closed. He let them go undisturbed.

That night, no one came to their door with a concern, burden, or tragic report. They were two clouds floating in total bliss. All was right in the world.

All was right, except for one thing that confounded Shikamaru:

But when I received my task this morning...That's what Shira had told them in the kitchen.

There was no reason to lie about this detail. Which was puzzling. Because if he was telling the truth, then what was that chilly, unsettling feeling Shikamaru felt yesterday walking back to the room? That feeling of being pursued. Of being watched.

If not the bodyguard, then who? Who the hell was following them?


A small case sat on his knee. He ran his thumb against the edges.

"Shikamaru?" She was clutching her elbow, feeling her defenses exposed.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

"I don't want to marry a stranger, either. I don't want to wake up to someone I don't know, or can't talk to, or can't sit together and do nothing with. That would be a bother."

She kept listening.

"But if I had to do it, wake up every morning to someone, and that person happened to be you, Temari, then…"

"Then?" She'd close the distance between them, peering down at him with the most knowing expression like she understood everything he was struggling to say. He bit the bullet and met her gaze.

"...then...I guess it would be worth it."

His teeth stopped clattering leaving them in total silence. The stray cherry blossom leaves began to settle as the wind subsided. Slowly, a grin the size of the moon emerged on her face. He exhaled in relief.

Apparently, she thought it was worth it, too.


5/17/22 A/N: Sorry for the hiatus. Hope to update this summer.