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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto'n stuff.

Chapter 2: Fare Thee Well!

The "ceremony" had lasted a bit longer than I originally anticipated. My parents had already gone home, Jiraiya's festivities being a bit much for them after a while. I couldn't blame them. I myself had tried to leave early several times prior, only to be caught by the arm for another round of embarrassing stories whilst the crowd drank.

Fortunately, thanks to my abundant intelligence, I managed to escape back into the now quiet streets of the village, taking an even-paced route home. The sun has long since gone down. The streets were lit with string after string of orange paper lanterns that illuminated the streets with the softest of glows. I could almost feel the village itself yawn.

Normally, my own emotions would mirror that of the village's at this state. Utterly tired and completely ready to slip between my sheets and curl into the comforts of my bed. But tonight was different. There was the high possibility that someone else was already occupying said domain. And I, now realizing how uneducated I was in this field, had absolutely no idea what to do about it. For what could possibly be the first time in my life, I was a nervous wreck.

I hadn't noticed how sweaty my palms were until my hand came in contact with the cool, wood door of the entrance of my home. I stopped to take a deep breath, before slowly pushing the door open, doing my best to be quiet for my, most likely, sleeping parents. To calm my nerves a bit, I cleared my throat and announced softly to no one, "I'm home."

To my surprise, I received an answer, "Come hither, Shikamaru." I looked to the left to find my mother in the kitchen, fussing over some dishes. Gulping, I obediently marched into the kitchen, hoping she wasn't going to finish what she started earlier today.

For a while, I stood awkwardly behind her, staring at her back as she thoughtfully scrubbed an already well over-clean frying pan. She had made no move to acknowledge she knew I was here, nor one that had shown she didn't. The silence was overbearing, but this time it was not because I was terrified of her.

No, because if she had wanted to beat the snot out of me, she would have already.

Now I was curious.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when she quickly wheeled around and grasped me firmly by the chin, squinting her eyes in a scrutinizing manner. "Thou looketh pale," she deadpanned, in a suspicious tone, "Did thou drink at ye ceremony?"

I coughed, "Nay, mother, of course not."

"Then why art thee the color of a sickly moon?" she raised her voice only slightly, as to not wake dad up, I supposed.

To answer this honestly, though, could lead to potential homicide. I averted my eyes, now unable to keep them level to hers. How could I have answer her? Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how one looked at it, it turned out I wouldn't have to.

She released my chin, and with surprising softness, she voiced my thoughts for me, "Shikamaru... about that..." she seemed to be fishing for any other word besides 'wench', "Maiden," she settled on, albeit a bit distastefully. "... I know King Jiraiya 'gave her to you' for ... specific festivities,"

I forced myself to look at her again.

This was my mother; the woman whom I have feared and, at times, despised since birth. And she was not yelling at me. Not beating me with her unnaturally sparkly frying pan. Not complaining how much of a pig the king was. No, she was here, attempting to give me a heart-to-heart talk.

I hate to admit it, but my heart broke just the tiniest bit seeing her so... soft. It was as if I wanted her to give me a nice lump on my head.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and pulled her into a hug. I knew what she wanted to say. "Mom," I looked down at her with serious eyes, "By my troth, she will not be forced to do anything she does not wish to do."

As her signature frown returned, I could feel her normal self come back as well. Well, it was sweet while it lasted...

"Son, whether she wishes to do anything or not is unimportant," She took me by the shoulders sternly, "I expect ye to do as I taught thee. Ye are not to dishonor this clan!"

I smiled weakly and repeated, "By my troth." It was only natural that my fear returned along with her normal persona.

She eyed me for the last time, before patting my cheek none too lightly, and muttering, "Good."

Wordlessly she brushed past me, blowing out candles as she went.

"Good night, mother..." I called softly after her, as sarcastic as my fear would allow me.

Not long after she was gone, I followed suit.

I blamed the creaky wooden floors for causing me to be so jumpy, but I knew it was far from the truth. Every step I took felt like a milestone, like I was crossing a bridge and I would never be able to return to the other side. Slowly I made my way to my bedroom door, aided by my blindly searching hands in the dark.

I took another a moment to stop and breath, trying to calm the shaking hand that was currently rattling the knob. With one last breath of courage, I entered.

My room was bathed in the moonlight of an open window. My eyes found her instantly.

She was positioned in between the shadows and the moonbeams, her white dress illuminated to a ghostly glow where the moonlight touched. Her appearance was so much softer in the moonlight, more mysterious, in stark contrast to what it appeared to be in the castle: restless and rough.

I swallowed, realizing I had been rudely staring again, and tried my best to survey the situation, and not her.

A tough feat, but somehow I managed.

My optics, and logic, told me she had been busying herself with something before I had stepped in. Now, though, she had jerked her head up, immediately stopping her progress.

It did not take long for her to recover.

"Do you beasts not even knock?!" she asked in outright fury.

"K-knock?" I stuttered, caught off balance by both her language and her deep voice. I'd never heard a woman with such low vocals before... "My apologies madam, I..." I searched for the words, but my dry mouth was simply telling me to clam up.

She snorted (a very unfeminine thing to do), "Filthy, no-good, spoiled-rotten..." as her insults added to one-another, a shiny object caught my eye. A glint that was terribly close to her hand...

As she cursed away, I, tentatively, stepped closer to inspect further. She looked like she had been tied up (none to delicately) previous to being thrown into my 'chambers'; by the knights from earlier, I'd wager. But what was the silver that had gleamed up at me before?

With sudden realization, I looked to my stained-oak dresser, and back to her hand.

She was holding my razor-sharp letter opener.

"Pig-headed, son of a..." She paused for a moment to look at me with furious teal eyes, "What are you staring at?!"

I opened my mouth dumbly, but nothing came out.

She scowled up at me, before tracing exactly where my eyes were directed.

"Shit," she hissed, discovering her own mistake. She dropped yelling at me instantly to bit her lip. Her eyes darted from side to side, as if searching for escape. No, that's not right. They were searching for escape.

Unfortunately, for all my intelligence, at that moment all I could think about was that she didn't need to bite her lip; I could do it for her.

Swiftly, in three fluid motions, she took my letter opener and sliced through the ropes, sprung up from her place on my bed, and made to bolt for the window.

I nearly gagged; my tongue apparently deciding that now was a good time to work. "Wait, please! Don't go through the window..." I searched my mind for any possibly excuse, "Ye could rip thy dress!"

She whirled around in such I way I swear she had summoned a tornado in my room. Her beautiful teal eyes glowed up at me against the shadows, like a tigress's who was just about to brutally maul her prey.

Why must I be an idiot sometimes?

"You," she snarled, even baring her pearly-whites at me, "You are lucky that this is your territory to fight on..."

I gulped. She wasn't from around here?

For a brief moment she seemed to cool down, even going so far as to purr at me, "But if fate so happens to join us again," she chuckled menacingly, "No such luck will save you a second time."

With a drop of the hat, she was gone.

Weeks had passed, with little to no thought of the spit-fire 'maiden'. When asked, I'd simply give the people the impression that I'd let her go out of pity. I didn't want to make a scene over her escaping like she did... who knows how the king might react?

I don't know where they got her, but it was obvious she did not volunteer for the role Jiraiya assigned her. Wherever she was now, she was probably happy and free...

But now I was much to busy to dwell on such things; I had a trade route to conduct.

Today was the big day; I was off to Kizoku, along with my village's forty-six neatly organized caravans.

I had already said my goodbyes to my parents and my friends, promising them a souvenir or two along the way. While I was sad to leave them for a month, I was thrilled to actually leave my village.

I had been half convinced, before now, that I'd never see beyond the forests outside the kingdom walls unless I was spontaneously knighted. And that definitely wouldn't have happened, ever.

But here I was, almost as free as a bird...

I looked up from my checklist, eyes scrolling over the rows of oxcarts before me. I had insisted on being in back, as, number one, I didn't know the route as well as most of these merchants, and number two, it was a lot more roomy back there.

Of course, I still needed to get used to dodging all the piles of dung that littered the path...

We had traveled quite a ways by the third day. I had given reasonable amounts of time to rest during the day and at night, and had come to know some of the merchants fairly well.

The landscape now was much different from that of home's, I discovered. There were barely any trees, and the ones that stood looked either dead or dying. The terrain was mostly covered with jagged rocks, dirt, and, most of all, sand.

One of the merchants had told me it wouldn't take long until we left this depressing place and moved onto the tropical paradise of Kizoku.

Speaking of the merchants... I resumed my self-assigned sentry post, scanning over the caravans with a keen eye.

It was oddly quiet... too quiet.

Not soon after the thought, I heard the frantic bleating of a distressed ox, followed by startled cries of men.

Without hesitation, I swiped an axe off the cart in front of me and began to trot to the scene, calling out, "What's wrong?"

...

I never made it.

There was a blow to the back of my head, and everything faded to black.

And there's chapter two! Did it turn out like you thought it would? I hope I didn't miss too many mistakes when I was revising.

Also, where Temari comes from, Old English is not spoken. For those of you who caught that earlier, I applaud you.

...

Now riddle me this: Am I making the plot too obvious?