The liquor rolled down his throat like a fiery liquid, burning his throat, as if the heat of the drink could extinguish the flame deep inside of him, if not fuel it.
A large hand landed on his shoulder with a reassuring pat, no words, just a pat.
Asuma drank from his glass. "You gotta do what a man's gotta do."
Shikamaru said nothing in return, signaling the bartender for another glass of whiskey.
The day passed normally for Shikamaru, until that moment he saw on Neji's phone, lying innocently on his desk as he passed by with a bundle in his hand.
A message from Temari.
Knowing that Neji was at the toilet, he did not think twice before picking up the device from his desk.
You left one of your cufflinks that night, I kept it for you.
Pick it up the next time you come to Suna. :)
Shikamaru tightened his empty fist as he lowered the phone back to its place, and walked quickly back to his seat.
For the whole afternoon, he said nothing, not when Chouji asked him whether he wanted to hang out after work, not when Kakashi Hatake came over to ask for the files – he simply shoved it in his hands.
"Shikamaru?" He raised his head irritated, only to see his supervisor, the dark haired, bearded man hovering above his desk.
"Yes?" He asked, annoyance laced his voice.
Asuma smiled at him. "Let's get a drink together after work."
He stared at him with his warm brown eyes. The same brown eyes that used to look at him affectionately when he got into trouble with Chouji, and decided to go to Asuma's place to hide from their parents.
Asuma was his life mentor – someone who would give him fatherly advice when he encountered problems.
More importantly, this man watched him grow up to be the man he is today, although wretched and fucked up; he tried his best to guide him.
Shikamaru nodded.
It has been a long time since they had a good talk.
And he knew that he needed it.
And that was why they ended up at nearest bar to the office.
"How is Kurenai-san doing?" He remembered Asuma's wife, the dark haired, red-eyed woman who was always kind to Chouji and him.
"Perfectly fine," the older man chuckled.
"Good to hear that." He sipped from his glass – he had returned to his old friend, scotch on the rocks, something that could numb his mind, not too much, just enough for him to ease up a little.
"You know, it had not always been rainbows and butterflies for me and Kurenai," he smiled. "The thing you need to know is, you have to do what you got to do."
He said nothing, dangling the ice cubes inside of his half-empty drink.
"Your mind should be able to tell you which is the right way." His mentor finished his glass, putting it back on the bar counter. "After all, you are a smart guy."
He stood up and headed to the bathroom.
Shikamaru stared at his glass of whiskey, the brown liquid swirled as he spun the glass, the ice cubes clashing into the glass walls.
Something burned inside of him when he saw that message.
He knew he had no right to be angry, not after Temari had been so generous with her forgiveness, her acceptance.
But not even his brilliant mind could decipher this complicated emotions he had in his mind.
Think. Nara Shikamaru. Think.
"Look who's here?" He heard a voice, strangely familiar, but definitely not the voice he wanted to hear right now.
He turned around and saw a tall man, his silver hair slicked back, eyeing him from head to toe with his angry violet eyes.
"Hidan." He said in his cold monotone.
"So you can't keep her too, can you?" He slumped his shirtless self next to him, banging on the bar counter for a shot of vodka. He threw his head back in a feverish laugh.
Shikamaru looked away and took another sip from his glass.
"I told you, you are just another boy toy for her…"
"Shut up." He snapped, coldly.
"What if I don't?" He leaned forward, glaring back at Shikamaru's dark eyes.
He raised his hand and pointed at Shikamaru's chest, with a daring smirk on his face. "You will never have her, just like me." He ended his statement with another wave of frantic laughter, retracting his finger from his chest.
Shikamaru frowned. "Back off."
He does not want to deal with this maniac, not at this time. He had enough problems himself.
"Make me." Hidan snarled, with a daring, provoking glance.
The next second, Shikamaru only knew that somehow his fist swung its way at Hidan's face.
The silver-haired man landed on the floor as the crowd dispersed around them.
"You little bitch!" Hidan yelled, lunging forward and seizing Shikamaru by the collar, raising his fist at him.
Shikamaru blocked the incoming fist, countering with his own only to be blocked by Hidan's arm.
His leg swung towards Shikamaru, and he dodged.
"Oi, stop it or I call the police." The bartender whipped out his phone and began talking.
Out of nowhere, Asuma jumped out and stopped the silver-haired man from throwing another punch. "That's enough." He said, calmly. "Keep your problems to yourself pal."
He put a few bills on the table, and patted Shikamaru on the shoulder.
As they walked out of the bar, Shikamaru heard a few hurried steps behind.
He paid no attention, until he suddenly got shoved out of the way.
As he flew, images flew past his mind.
Before he could process it, he crashed into the wall and fell to the ground.
Colour drained from his face as he saw Hidan's hand dug deep into Asuma's abdomen, his other hand pulling him close as if he was pulling him in for a hug.
A bewildered expression sprawled across Hidan's face; he had that frantic grin on his face of a maniac, the face bore into his mind like a mark scorched with a red hot iron piece.
Everything happened in a split second.
The next thing he knew was the ringing police sirens from a distance – their office was conveniently located closely to a police station.
He heard the bartender's voice. "Get an ambulance here quickly." It was shaking, coated with fear.
Hidan moved away from Asuma, who collapsed onto the ground like a flaccid balloon.
In his hand was a bloodied knife, he grinned and glared at Shikamaru.
"Tough luck for the old guy," he smirked, wiping the blood onto his trousers.
"I will get you next time," he laughed coldly before disappearing into the crowd.
Shikamaru wanted to go after him, but no, he had to help Asuma.
He rushed over and pressed his hand onto the deep wound on his abdomen.
"Hang in there, Asuma."
"Shikamaru…" he said, coughing. "You only live once, don't waste it."
"Save your breath," he said, focusing his pressure onto his wound.
The paramedics approached and took over; Shikamaru stared down at his hands, covered in Asuma's warm blood, as the pressure he exerted disappear, blood welled out from the wound.
His mind was boggling when he saw the paramedics, pressing onto the wound on his abdomen, another hovering over him with an oxygen mask.
His mind was cloudy, as Asuma was rushed into the operation theatre; he slumped into the chair outside, his face buried in his hand.
He did not know how long he had sat until a delicate hand rested on his shoulder.
"Shikamaru." He heard the trembling voice of a woman.
He looked up and saw Kurenai Yuhi, no, Kurenai Sarutobi.
"Where is Asuma?"
"Inside." He looked down at his feet. "I didn't know, the guy wasn't aiming for him, but me, he…"
"Shh." Kurenai sat down next to him; he could see her visibly trembling, her eyes brimming with worry.
The only thing that he noticed about her was the rose gold wedding band on her left ring finger, and her slightly swollen abdomen.
"Kurenai-san, you…"
"I was planning to tell him today." She lost it at that moment, covering her face with her hands. "I was planning to tell him that he is going to be a daddy."
Shikamaru could not find any other words except for that he was sorry.
"It's not your fault," she said. Kurenai had always been a rational woman; even at the verge of breakdown she was relatively composed.
Any other woman would have lost it already.
Each word of her teary voice stabbed deeply into his heart.
Come on Asuma, please don't die.
He crossed his fingers in front of his lowered head.
Kurenai raised her head, leaning against the wall behind her back; her hand resting on the bump of her abdomen.
They waited for hours; not knowing how long time had passed.
He felt like something burning in his mind, all he could think of were prayers.
Praying that Asuma would survive the ordeal.
He shot up from his seat as the doctor walked out of the operation theatre – it was a familiar face.
Her name was Haruno Sakura, one of his classmates back then.
"Hi," she said calmly. "Shikamaru, Kurenai-san."
"How is he, Sakura?" Shikamaru demanded, anxiousness burning his mind.
Sakura sighed softly and shook her head, her short pink hair covering bit of her saddened teal eyes.
"I am very sorry, Kurenai-san."
Each word that came out of her mouth felt like a bomb dropped right behind them.
Kurenai opened her mouth, her eyes staring into the void in front of her as she began to lose her balance, only to be caught by Shikamaru before the impact of the fall.
Sakura patted him on the shoulder, biting her lip. "The knife severed one of the major arteries, he lost too much blood."
Kurenai said nothing, as tears flowed from her red eyes, her hand gripping Shikamaru's hand tightly.
He wanted to scream, letting go of all his pain, his frustration…
But he found his mouth to be just as dry as his eyes.
He opened his mouth and the only sound he could make was a dry croak.
He gathered what was left of his strength, and took Kurenai home.
Their apartment seemed awfully warm, apart from Kurenai, whose colours were drained from her face, the coldness of her face, the sadness dripping in form of soundless tears.
"Are you sure I don't need to ask someone to stay here with you tonight?" He asked, frowning in concern.
Kurenai dismissed him with a weak wave of her hand, she sat on the couch soundlessly.
Shikamaru left the apartment, his eyes boring into his slumped back.
Don't waste it. He said. Those were his last words to him.
A man who sacrificed his own life, his own promising, warm life for his own fucked up, wretched life.
No.
He smacked himself on the cheek.
His life was nothing miserable. Miserable was Kurenai's face when Sakura broke the news to them; miserable was the silent tears that rolled down her cheeks;
miserable was the realization that Asuma died not knowing he was to be a father, that his daughter would grow up fatherless.
He got lucky. Very lucky.
He dragged himself out and walked, somehow he managed to balance himself, out of his semi-drunkenness and hollowness; he trudged forward.
His car was just in front of him at the side of the road, pressing on the car keys, the car blinked at him, shining its lights.
He went in and sat in front of the wheel, slumping himself into the leather seats.
Meanwhile, he took out his phone.
22 missed calls from home.
The digital clock flashed 04:12.
He sat and stared at his own reflection on the windscreen.
He looked tired, annoyed, and defeated.
What the fuck have you done to yourself?
He never thought of it this way. All he ever thought was how his crooked relationship with the people around him, with the world had shaped him.
He never really had the time to sit down and think how he, Nara Shikamaru had fucked himself up.
He just accepted that he would not be able to get that girl he always dreamed of having, he let himself sunk to where he is right now.
And when he had the chance, when that perfect someone came along to pull him out of this trench he himself dug, he waved her away – he screwed up.
The only vivid image in his mind right now was what flashed in front of him when he flew across the bar just now, as Asuma shoved him out of the way.
You are pathetic. Indecisive, fucking irresolute bastard.
In front of him was a familiar face, her blonde hair tied in the four pigtails, brilliant teal green eyes glaring down at him across her folded arms.
I won't wait, Shikamaru. I am not going to be another you.
Her voice rang, plaguing his mind like a brainwashing melody.
They say you become the people you love, partly, completely.
Each word that came out of her soft, painted lips pierced him like an arrow to the heart.
I waited.
The final two words he heard before he crashed into the wall.
He swore he could hear the sound of a heart breaking into pieces, shattering into a million shards.
He tried to straighten his thoughts, but all he could think of was bits and pieces of her.
Her cheeky smirk when they first met in the conference room after their intimate encounter.
Her sarcastic remarks, her proud beautiful self…
And more importantly - her gentle, vulnerable side that he had seen in front of his very own eyes.
There had to be a reason why Ino had not appear in his trail of thoughts.
There had to be a reason why she had been on his mind, haunting him, reminding him all the time.
Something clicked in his mind.
Temari was sitting on her bed, her long fingers flipping pages of a book.
She arched an eyebrow as a familiar name popped up on the screen of her phone.
Nara Shikamaru.
She looked at it hesitantly for a second, and then decided to pick it up.
"Shikamaru?" She said, her confusion mixed with traces of excitement.
"Temari." His voice was his usual monotone, only this time, he was agitated to some extent.
"It's pretty late." She said, softly.
"I know," at that moment she realized that apart from agitation, there was desperation in his voice. "Listen, something really, really awful happened to me."
"Are you-" She was cut off by him, who almost shouted through the phone.
"Hear me out." He took a deep breath, so loud that she could hear on the other end.
"I am listening."
"I…"
The next second, a loud crashing sound tore its way through the phone and into her ear.
The other end of the phone died down, as she heard the sound of burning tyres speeding away.
"Shikamaru?" Her emerald eyes widened, mouth trembling, she asked again. "Shikamaru?"
The eerie silence filled the other end of the phone.
Emptiness.
It was all Temari felt as she immediately walked into living room, and calling the only person she could think of.
"Neji? Please call the Konoha Police, I think Shikamaru had a car crash."
It was until that moment, she realized tears were rolling down her face.
"Hurry." She said weakly. "Before it's too late."
She collapsed onto the floor as she hung up, and let out a broken-hearted cry.
Her brothers were woken by her cry, rushing out of their bedrooms, they saw their bewildered sister, crouching down, pulling at her own hair and screaming.
Temari did not recall what happened.
Everything was a haze, a fading picture. She could barely recall Gaara and Kankuro asking her to change her clothes, to get her things…
She felt nothing, emptiness.
The only thing she knew now was that she was slumping against the leather seat of their private jet, heading to their destination in full speed.
Konoha.
Author's note:
I am having a great rush, think I am going to complete this story soon! :D
Dear DaX0315: your idea is great! I am probably going to adapt it a little, thanks so much!
(I hope my exaggerated drama suits you guys well) :P
Enjoy! Blessed to have all the awesome reviews and love from you guys!
V.S.V xoxo
