[Request: Temaris thoughts on Shikakus death]

The first time she met him, her immediate thought was, "wow, the Nara genes must run strong."

They had the same face; same scowl, same jawline, same nose, same dead-set eyes that seemed eternally condescending, eternally disinterested.

Except his weren't. They were narrowed, livid with fury – an expression she never quite thought would cross the features of a Nara man.

His father's voice was gruffer, angrier – especially as he reprimanded his son, his tone sharp and his words unforgiving.

Temari wasn't one to feel pity. She wasn't even sure if what she was feeling was pity. Emotion swirled through her, a mixture of fascination, bewilderment, and somehow, grudging respect, but she wasn't sure if that also included pity.

The Nara family may look alike, but that was where the similarities ended.

She didn't expect anyone, let alone the head of the Nara clan, to adopt the same disciplinary regiment as Suna. Konoha are too soft, she'd thought during the chuunin exams; they all let their emotions break through. They forget who they are, that they are shinobi, nothing but tools of war who should know how to kill their emotion. But here he was, his son a spitting image, two heavy scars marring his face as he lay down the truth. And for his son to be almost stunned into silence, as opposed to the sharply barbed retorts she was personally used to, well, it only went to show how Shikaku Nara was a man someone as pigheaded as Shikamaru Nara respected.

If it wasn't his son, then Shikaku was definitely the first Konoha nin she truly admired.

Not that she'd ever admit that, of course.

The next time they met, it was in passing –well into the planning stages of the Chuunin exams. Shikamaru was late, but no one was surprised. He wasn't always the most punctual, but that factor often slid by seeing as his brain was invaluable, and with his mere presence came progress that would never have been possible without him.

Although this time, when he sauntered in a mere ten minutes late (as opposed to his usual twenty), his father followed in behind him.

Temari didn't go to Konoha too often, but when she did, she'd always met Shikamaru at the gate. And whilst she stayed in the hidden village for however long her duties demanded, she hadn't seen his father at all. The only time she bothered asking, he merely shrugged. "Busy," Shikamaru said. It was a dismissive tone, so she didn't bother with further inquiries.

He was more or less the same, unchanged in the two years she'd seen him that one time. The same heavy scarring highlighted his face, although the bags under his eyes only had grown more pronounced. Her eyebrow raised as he followed wordlessly after his son, his expression not even apologetic.

Shikamaru shuffled in, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Shikaku lingered only a second longer, his eyes trained on his son.

She watched as he surveyed the rest of the crowd, and they rested on her briefly, before rolling past.

Temari didn't know why she felt a sudden nervousness, a sudden impulse to raise her chin – to make herself feel and appear as powerful as she could. It was childish, perhaps even a stupid and rather rash desire. She shifted uncomfortably as Shikamaru stalked past her.

"You're late," she whispered, if only to state the obvious.

His fingers brushed against hers as he sat down, the familiar notion eliciting familiar sparks down her spine. He sighed and rubbed his neck, a coy smile playing at his lips. But his voice was the usual lazy drawl, careful disinterest as he explained that his dad had taken him to practice his clan techniques.

Teases came as easy as a twist of a faucet, and while they bickered in a slightly-more-than-aggressive whisper. And as the meeting went on, she'd all but forgotten his father's presence.

She didn't have to look around, to know where his father was. The senior Nara was different from his son; he wouldn't hide from responsibility. When his presence was absent from the assembly of Ninja, she didn't have to ask – didn't have to hear Shikamaru's muttered explanation to some of his subordinates – that his father was in the intel department. What did surprise her was the assertion that Shikaku Nara was all but the head strategist for the entire war effort.

Respect.

It was something she'd been starting to feel more strongly, and as much as she respected – had a crush on – the younger Nara, the older she respected through and through. It was a shame the clan was one in Konoha; Shikaku's mentality and cold logic would've fit in Suna.

It's a shame, really, she thought, but as Shikamaru talked to her again, she didn't dwell on that notion once more.

.

As expected of Shikamaru's dad.

Because Shikaku was a genius; because he was the one who executed a near perfect plan. As expected. She'd never had her doubts of his intelligence; it demanded a different kind of respect that Shikamaru's.

It was a thought that crossed her mind rather frequently, and it did so once more.

.

As soon as his voice left her mind, she couldn't help but to whip her head to Shikamaru. Oh god, was he going to cry? Was he going to lose it? What face would he make?

He looked strained, his lips taught and his eyes closed, but no tears slipped from his eyes.

It was thanks to his dad; thanks to Shikaku that he no longer cried. Thanks to Shikaku, who'd he grown close to, that Shikamaru was the man he was today. Braver, motivated, a fully reasoned Nara.

She chewed her lip; she wanted nothing more to be by his side, to put an arm around him, to be the comfort she knew he needed. To be the comfort he now lacked.

But his expression shifted – it matured. When he opened his eyes, he had a new fire in his eyes. Determination.

It he wasn't going to cry, nor was she.

.

"I don't think I ever got to talk to you. Properly."

The flowers she held in her hand rustled with the breeze, a couple petals falling loose and falling with the wind.

"I," she swallowed. "I've always admired you. Always thought – why, how did a country so weak have a man like you? Tough, rational, smart – well, that's not unique to you, I suppose."

Temari felt a smile creep on her lips.

"You know, Shikamaru and I are really alike. Well, aside the glaringly obvious reason now. But he's smart. We have the same train of thought. And he needs someone to look after him. He's a crybaby, but you know that."

She bent down, placing the flowers down.

"I'll look after him. He'd probably tell you he was looking after me, but don't mistake me; I'm the one looking after him. So rest easy... Shikaku."

He was waiting for her outside the cemetery, and as soon as she saw him, the smile on her face was real. He took her hand, their matching silver band a testament to what she'd said.