Final Treatment
It was now about midday on that same beautiful, sunny day in Konoha, and Nara Shikamaru was running for his life.
Where's the ANBU when I need them? Man, talk about troublesome…I don't know how long I can keep up this pace…
Wishing he had worked more on his stamina, Konoha's most brilliant strategist began thinking furiously.
Where can I go? Where can I go? Is anywhere safe? My house? No, mum and dad aren't home, no one to hear my screams. My office? Too predictable. Chouji's house? Damn, he's on a mission with Asuma-sensei. Or maybe Kuren-no. Or Ino-no. CRAP!
Heart pounding, he skidded around a corner into a busy market street, hoping to lose the girls in the morning shopping crowds. A burly man carrying a box of sweet potatoes yelled with indignation as the young jounin shot past him, nearly jolting the box out of his arms. The man's yells were abruptly cut short as he dived for cover from the swarm of girls who came thundering past seconds later.
Shikamaru quickly realised that although the morning shopping crowds would certainly slow down ordinary pursuers, there was little short of a natural disaster that would be able to slow down the banshees behind him, and he was only bringing unnecessary danger to innocent civilians. Up ahead, a huge billboard advertising the latest Icha Icha Paradise movie (with special cameo performance by the novel's author, Jiraya-sama himself) gave the shadow user an idea. Hands working quickly, he formed a bunshin, which ostentatiously took to the rooftops, allowing the girls to see him, while Shikamaru himself sprinted for the back entrance of the Konoha Megaplex cinema.
The emergency exit door shut behind him, leaving the young shinobi in a comforting environment of darkness and quiet, broken only by the hum of air-conditioning. Even the sound of his footsteps was muffled into silence by the thick carpeting of the corridor. Ever since he was a child, the lazy jounin had never been afraid of the dark; as a member of the Nara clan, shadows were his natural element after all. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Shikamaru froze at the sight of a faint circle of torchlight bobbing towards him.
Only an usher, probably heading out for a break. Still, it'd be troublesome to explain why I snuck in here…I'll just duck into a movie until he's gone, he thought, sidling along to the nearest door and slipping inside with a stealth comparable to that of Ebisu peeping on Tsunade (1).
The theatre Shikamaru had entered was clearly about to screen its feature picture, as all the lights had been turned off, and the only free seat he could find was one near the back, close to the exit. The mandatory rustling of lolly wrappers, crunching of popcorn, and murmuring of viewers died away as the curtains pulled back, revealing the full width of the large screen. A muffled feminine squeal in the front row was quickly hushed as the sound of rushing water filled the theatre.
Oddly, the screen remained dark, but the sound of water continued, punctuated by splashing noises and the occasional squeak of what sounded just like…taps. What movie have I walked into? Shikamaru's brow furrowed in thought as he tried to recall any titles he had seen advertised; unfortunately, due to the recent upheavals in his life, the last thing on his mind had been checking out the latest flicks.
Maybe it's some kind of weird avant-garde film, who cares; it looks like it'll be easy to sleep through, he thought, just as the sound of someone whistling a tune came from the screen. Excited whispering burst out from different spots in the audience, along with one muffled feminine voice exclaiming "Get to the good stuff already!" only to be shushed by other, more patient viewers.
The dark screen gradually began to get lighter, as a message in white letters wreathed in red roses appeared like the commentary at the beginning of a historical movie.
"He was an unknown. His talents were unappreciated. He was always overshadowed."
There was a pause. Another squeal came from Shikamaru's row, over to the left, "Hurry up! The suspense is killing me!"
"But one day, he was recognized. This man's worth was acknowledged. He rose from obscurity, and has now received the love and attention he deserves. This film is a tribute to him."
The buzz of excitement in the theatre began to increase in volume. A few girls shrieked. The atmosphere was becoming agitated and Shikamaru was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't the best place he could have picked to hide. There seemed to be an awful lot of girls in here…
Without warning, the screen turned completely white, momentarily illuminating the faces of the people around him, and a cold chill of fear trickled down the lazy jounin's back.
In the whole crowded theatre, there was not another man in sight.
Shikamaru gulped. Coming here was a really bad…his train of thought was left hanging like washing forgotten on the line as his gaze turned back to the screen, only to be faced with…
…well, with his face.
His face and his neck, his shoulders, his chest, in fact, his whole upper body.
His whole naked upper body.
His whole naked wet upper body.
It made perfect sense, really. Nara Shikamaru was usually naked and wet when he was taking a shower, after all.
Right about the moment that not only warning bells, but red flags, fire alarms, smoke signals and fog horns began to go off in the shadow user's head, the title of the film appeared on the screen in huge black letters wreathed with flowers: " 'Shikamaru-sama's Bathroom Adventure: UNCUT!' presented by ANBU Sneak Peek Productions".
And the audience went wild.
Suddenly all around him shrieking girls were standing up in their seats, throwing flowers, various pieces of underwear and plushies with suspiciously familiar pineapple-shaped hairstyles at the screen. The shot zoomed in and followed a trickle of water as it trailed down the shadow user's sun-browned, muscular neck, magnified hugely on the big screen. Throughout the theatre, banners and posters had sprung up from nowhere, waving as the girls holding them began to chant and sing.
A lesser man, finding himself in such a situation might have had a nervous breakdown on the spot and let loose with a fuuma shuriken. Luckily, members of the Nara clan were made of sterner stuff, and Shikamaru still had a hold on his sanity, tenuous though it was. Although the maniacal train wreck that had been his life for the past few weeks seemed to have reached its climax and Armageddon had come, he would be calm, he would be cool, he would be collected, he would make it out of here ALIVE if NOBODY notices me –
In such a state of mind, the lazy jounin could not be blamed for failing to avoid the girl beside him, who had been recklessly jumping up and down on her seat while screaming "Damn censoring! This is supposed to be UNCUT!" in a most unbecoming fashion. One badly executed jump resulted in a heavy tumble, landing her straight into Shikamaru's lap. She stared up at him; he stared back, too shocked to react; she blinked, the light of recognition dawning ominously in her eyes; he gulped; she jumped off him and screamed at the top of her lungs,
"He's here! It's him! It's Shikamaru-sama! He's right here! Look!"
With frightening response speed, the audience reacted in a manner reminiscent of bloodhounds when presented with their first real fox. Shikamaru's kawarimi, which he had formed as the light of recognition had begun to dawn, didn't last long under the onslaught, but it was enough to give Konoha's greatest strategist a 15 second head-start on the horde.
Feeling horrified and violated at the terrible display of the true extent of female pervertedness he had just witnessed, and firmly resolved never to shower again, Shikamaru burst out of the doors of the cinema, with a hundred shrieking women hot on his trail. Ducking into the first alleyway on the left, he overturned boxes and rubbish bins behind him, hoping to slow down his pursuers. A padlocked metal link gate at the end of the alley faced him; without a moment's hesitation the young jounin released a spurt of chakra and bounded over, coming out into a dingy courtyard.
Crap, a dead end! Shikamaru spun around, looking for an exit. There was an arched doorway on the right wall, but it had been cemented up long ago. Inexplicably, the fleeting image of a green-eyed kunoichi, black-gloved fists glowing, pink hair swirling around her face as she punched through a brick wall as if it were a soggy cookie flashed through the pony-tailed boy's mind. She'd come in handy right about now, but since I can't go out, he leaped to the top of the fence again, then gathered chakra in his feet, I'll have to go up.
Once on the rooftops, Shikamaru headed back to the busy marketplace. Too bad for the innocent civilians; he had his own innocence to protect. Leaping down from windowsill to windowsill, he hit the ground running, slid around a corner and launched himself forward into a roll, just in time to avoid two men carrying a sheet of glass between them down the street. The men sighed with relief at the aversion of an accident, looked down the street where Shikamaru had appeared from, then quickly flattened themselves against a wall, successfully dodging the crowd of hormone-driven she-wolves that stampeded past.
Unfortunately, the sheet of glass was broken a few minutes later when a certain perverted hermit, camera in hand, jostled one of the men as he shot past, hot on the trail of what was promising to be prime material for his next book.
Rapidly approaching the village square, apples spilled suddenly from a pile in front of a stall across Shikamaru's path, but he cleared them with a well-timed leap, only to fly straight into a confectionary cart which seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Sweet rice cakes and sticky dango scattered on the ground as the old woman pushing the cart began screeching furiously.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The pony-tailed jounin leapt to his feet, knowing the horde of rabid females was only seconds behind him. He stopped, feeling unbalanced. Why is everything fuzzy? My glasses!
He looked around frantically, hearing the screeches of the girls drawing closer. Then a sudden flash of reflected light caught Shikamaru's eye, and there were his glasses, gleaming cheerfully on the ground a few feet away. It was a tough call; but with a strangled groan he lunged for them. After all, how would he be able to evade the girls if he were half blind?
Grasping the sleek metal frames, Shikamaru slipped them back onto his face, but as he turned to run, bony fingers clutched at his arm, digging into his bicep. He looked down into the wrinkled, angry face of the old hag whose cart he had just overturned.
"My cart!" she shrieked, shaking him viciously, "Who's going to pay for my cart! It's all ruined!"
"I'm sorry! I'll pay you back later! Just let me go Granny, please!" The panicking young jounin tried to twist away from her grip then stopped, recognizing the touch of desperation in the old face. That cart was probably the woman's only livelihood, which he had just ruined for the day. He gazed at the wreckage, feeling suddenly guilty.
Now being a highly skilled jounin, of course Shikamaru knew at least a hundred ways to release himself from someone's grasp, but all of them involved pain. The shadow user could hardly bring himself to strike a female ninja in battle, let alone manhandle an old woman of his own village. He stilled then, an icy calm settling over him as he looked at the feminine mob thundering toward him.
It's over.
The old cart owner finally noticed the human plague approaching and, releasing Shikamaru's arm, took cover beneath her over-turned cart. Now freed, the young man made no move to flee. It was too late, there was nowhere to go, and somehow, he didn't feel like running anymore. His glasses had slipped down a little; one sun-browned hand reached up and pushed them back into place, fingertips brushing the bridge of his nose.
No more running.
The pony-tailed shinobi wiped the sweat from his palms onto his khaki pants then shook his hands, loosening his wrists. He flexed his fingers, then brought his hands slowly up in front of his stomach, pressing his palms together firmly. The screeching of the girls was only a few seconds away now.
It's time to end this.
And as Nara Shikamaru stood, watching his doom draw ever closer, a small smile appeared on his face.
(1)see, Ebisu's so stealthy even YOU didn't know he peeped on her!
AN: Believe me, when it came to naming this chapter, I was thinking of titles along the lines of: "Finally updated", "Thankyou for hanging on so long everyone", "Please don't kill me!" etc. That said, I won't bore you all with pitiful excuses and "reasons" as to why it's taken so long to update. Better late than never I always say…argh.
By the way, I derived considerable amusement from the barrage of comments and questions regarding Sasuke's intended sexual orientation in the last chapter. Because I so hate to take away the joys of imagination, I will leave it open to each readers' own interpretation. Thankyou so much for reading and reviewing, I can't think of anything else that made me finish this chapter...damn fillers...when will they ever cease?