The moon, nearly full a week before, had waned to a mere shadow of its former self, the light that remained barely strong enough to illuminate the small clearing Shikamaru was standing in once it filtered down through the branches overhead. At night, the clearing was a much different place than in the daytime. The curling ferns and dainty wildflowers from the sunlit hours had gone to sleep to wait out the darkness, their beauty replaced by the wonder of a myriad of fireflies darting lazily among the closed flower buds and long grasses at the edge of the clearing. The plants were drooping from the heavy rain that had passed through and only stopped a few minutes ago. It had been a cold storm, a coastal rain headed inland from the nearby ocean, heavy with the scent of regret and new beginnings.
Shikamaru had stood in the center of the clearing and let the rain pour over him, cleansing him body and soul. He was tired, so very tired, not even able to gather the energy to solidify himself enough to feel the touch of the rain on his skin. Instead, he had lifted his face to the rain and let it pour through him, remaining motionless even when a drop of water fell directly through his open eye.
Now, with the clouds blown from the sky by a brisk wind, taking the rain with them, Shikamaru was left staring up at the moon with no change in his peacefully troubled expression. A cool breeze swept through the clearing, but Shikamaru barely felt its chill. Slowly, almost immeasurably slowly, Shikamaru raised his right hand towards the moon, reaching out as if he could command it closer. But the moon refused to answer his summons and stayed still in the sky, and a tremble crept into his hand.
He'd been a fool that night, in more ways than one. His exhaustion reeked of it, of the foolish things he'd done. Transporting so many people through his shadows had been the first mistake, then the amount of energy he'd used up in the confrontation with the Akatsuki, then the energy he'd foolishly wasted in his confrontation with… in the game of chess he'd played, and finally, the stupid move of teleporting once again in his exhausted condition. If his spectral power was a cell phone battery, there'd be a blinking red bar in the upper right hand corner and a notification warning him of five percent battery remaining. He'd pass out soon if he wasn't careful.
But he hadn't been careful, had he? He'd boldly crossed every line he'd ever set for himself, except perhaps one. And for what? To impress… him? The idea was laughable. And yet, it was true.
Shikamaru had set out to pry him apart, to learn everything he could about him, to know him so well that he could rip him apart just to put him back together again. But Shikamaru had been the one to get pulled apart at the seems, the one to learn thing about himself that he'd rather have kept hidden. Of course, he'd at least partially succeeded in his goal; Shikamaru had gotten him to open up and broken through the shell surrounding his mind. But at what cost?
Perhaps… perhaps it didn't even matter anymore.
Shikamaru was the Shadowmaster, the puppet master, the one controlling things from the shadows. He shouldn't have entered the fray, shouldn't have gotten his hands dirty. He needed to play games to survive, because warfare left him empty and hollow inside. This had been a glaring example of what would happen if he gave up his games, or even let someone else make the rules.
Slowly, almost immeasurably slowly, Shikamaru lowered his arm down to his side, and his head lowered with it. God, he was tired. He wanted to sleep, but of course even that was denied him in his cursed state.
God, he needed something to take his mind away from him! Booze, drugs, cigarettes, sleep, anything- but nothing would work on him, not now. Jesus, why couldn't the bomb have just taken his legs and left him to destroy his mind on his parent's couch until he killed himself with consumption? Then he wouldn't have this curse of an ever-active mind, even in death. God, he was tired.
As if to mock his sleepless state, Shikamaru's body moved of its own free will, floating down so he hovered horizontally over the soft moss. Above him, the waning moon looked like a reaper's scythe silhouetted against the velvet black sky. Too tired to do anything else, he closed his eyes to block out the sight.
The silence of the clearing was deafening.
The stillness swirled around him like the motion of a boat in rough seas.
The cold burned him alive.
As Shikamaru lay suspended above the moss floor of the clearing, he became aware of someone crashing through the forest. Wrinkling his nose a little, he decided to ignore it. It was probably just a lost tourist or something, and it was impossible to find the clearing without prior knowledge of it anyway. Screwing his eyes shut more tightly, Shikamaru rolled onto his side and tried to avoid focusing on anything.
A few seconds later, Shikamaru sat up in surprise as the person making his way through the woods started on a path that would lead him directly to the clearing. With a frown, the phantom got to his feet. Who could it be? The only other person he'd shown this place to was most likely already on a bus down to Portland to catch a flight back to wherever he came from.
Whoever it was, he was making a beeline for the clearing, and approaching it fast. His eyes widening in surprise, Shikamaru took a few steps back from the center of the clearing as Neji exploded through the edge of the woods, chest heaving from exertion, and pointed the sharp tip of a dripping old fashioned umbrella at him.
"You!" He panted, stabbing the umbrella point in Shikamaru's direction. "I'm not… I'm not done with you!"
"Why… why are you…" Shikamaru gasped out, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
"I'm here because you walked away from our game!" Neji exclaimed angrily. "Wasn't it you who told me to never leave a game of chess unfinished?"
"But it was finished!" Shikamaru said hotly, anger suddenly flashing in his eyes. "You bested me, the first to do so since I was alive and a child playing against my father; isn't that enough for you?"
"No!" Neji cried, grabbing something small and black from his pocket and throwing it at Shikamaru, who caught it reflexively with his telekinesis. "The game isn't over until the king is captured! Didn't you teach me that? Isn't that your motto?"
Glancing down at his open palm, Shikamaru found two halves of a broken black king floating there. The pieces clinked against each other and sank through his palm as the strain on his weakened powers was too great, dropping to the forest floor. Looking back up at Neji, Shikamaru saw that he was still breathing hard, but was also sporting a blush that had nothing to do with exertion.
Immediately, a smug smile found its way onto Shikamaru's face. The distraction was back on in full force. This was his element; this was his game. He could play like this.
Leaning down, Shikamaru made his hand corporeal enough to pick up the two broken halves of the chess piece, then tossed them back to Neji, who fumbled them, dropping the umbrella and almost dropping them in the process of catching them.
"Then consider it captured," he drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Inwardly, he winced at the energy he had expended. Four percent.
Neji's blush expanded, and Shikamaru found it amusing trying to guess the reason behind it. "That's a rather unorthodox way of doing things," he said with a delicate sniff.
"But effective," Shikamaru argued, taking a step closer. "And yet, that's not the reason why you're here."
"Isn't it?" Neji retorted, his eyes flashing with a delight almost indistinguishable from anger. Or an anger almost indistinguishable from delight.
"Of course not." Shikamaru took another step forward, delight seeping through his system when Neji mirrored him. "It's the middle of the night, you're tired and injured, and you're leaving tomorrow. You wouldn't come all the way out here just to toss a broken chess piece back and forth."
"Then what am I here for?" Neji practically hissed with unreadable eyes. "You're the genius; you tell me."
The unreadable nature of Neji's gaze should have given Shikamaru pause, but he was too glad to restart the game to notice, and he took another step forward. The thrill of the chase, the excitement of the game, started to grow in him again, and he smiled a little cruelly.
"You're here because something inside you, some part of you that you don't like to admit exists, spurs you forward- toward me. You're here to satisfy that subconscious urge, the urge to find me and fight me. Because it's the most fun you've had in ages."
"Not quite."
The words were spoken with assurance, but so quietly that Shikamaru almost wasn't sure of what he had heard. "What?"
Neji took another step forward and repeated himself. "That's not quite right. I am here to find you, propelled by the part of me I've hidden all my life, but you're wrong about everything else."
The air around Shikamaru seemed to freeze, sucking the insubstantial breath from his lungs. "That's… that's impossible. I know I'm right! You... you have to be lying!"
"I'm not lying," Neji said steadily, his mood becoming visibly more subdued, almost broken. "You're projecting, Shikamaru. It's you who needs me to fight against. Because it's the most fun you've had in ages."
The frozen air around Shikamaru shattered, impaling him with a thousand tiny shards of ice and leaving him speechless. "That's… You…"
"Tell me I'm wrong!" Neji suddenly cried, his eyes turning frantic. "Tell me I'm crazy, tell me I'm overthinking things, tell me anything! Just… tell me I'm not right. That all this actually meant something, and wasn't just for the sake of your twisted enjoyment."
But Shikamaru couldn't say anything. Because Neji was right.
When no response came from Shikamaru, Neji turned his gaze away from the phantom, a hand coming up to cover his mouth and muffle what sounded like a sob.
"Oh, God," he gasped, his breathing starting to become irregular. "Was any of it real?"
Shikamaru still couldn't say anything. His heart, which hadn't beat in over fifty years, felt like it was trying to escape from the deathly grip squeezing it and make up for all the years of lying still, frozen in time, all at once. After several more stunned, silent moments passed, Neji turned his back to the phantom, picking up his umbrella and laying a hand against the smooth bark of a birch tree at the edge of the clearing.
"Never mind," he said quietly, not bothering to turn back to look at Shikamaru as he spoke. "It… it doesn't matter anymore. I shouldn't have come." A pause, heavily laden with things left unsaid, filled the clearing briefly, as if Neji was still waiting for Shikamaru to say something, anything. When nothing was forthcoming, he hunched his back ever so slightly against an invisible pain and stepped forward, away from the clearing, letting his hand trail away from the creamy bark of the birch tree. "Goodbye, Shikamaru."
As if in slow motion, Shikamaru watched Neji's fingers slip away from the birch tree. The air around him seemed thick, as if he was swimming in a vat of molasses, and he raised one hand up, reaching for Neji as he had reached for the moon. Just before the tips of Neji's fingers broke contact with the pale bark - for forever, the sadistic innermost parts of Shikamaru's mind mocked him - he closed his hand almost instinctively, calling up a lightning fast shadow to bind Neji's hand to the tree.
Neji had taken several steps into denser vegetation at the border between the forest and the clearing, letting his fingers linger on the pale white bark of the slim birch tree, before the shadow bindings cut his movement short. Slowly, he turned back to face Shikamaru, fear and something that might have been hope mixing in equal parts in his eyes. He flicked his gaze pointedly at the shadows holding him to the tree, then back to Shikamaru with an eyebrow raised. The bravado of the move was careful, calculated even, shadowing the raw emotion in his gaze and seeming to ask, Well?
Well, what? Shikamaru's mind growled back at Neji, but the phantom kept his mouth clamped shut and the words caught inside his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he squeezed his fist tighter, and the shadows started to crawl up Neji's arm.
Neji watched the shadows with a mixture of fascination and fear, but fear won over when the shadows crawled past his wrist. A scared warning in his eyes, he swung his gaze up to clash with Shikamaru's unresponsive one.
"Let me go, Shikamaru," he warned, the authority in his voice somewhat belayed by the fear in his eyes. "If you don't have anything to say, let me go."
But I do have something to say. He just didn't know how to say it. Was any of it real? Neji had asked, but Shikamaru didn't understand how it couldn't be. A game was as real as warfare, just had fewer consequences. After all, a game of chess and a battle both ended with a winner and a loser; less people just died during a game of chess. But how could he explain this to the stubborn person in front of him, whose only use for games was meaningless entertainment?
Taking a hesitating step forward, Shikamaru released his iron grip on his voice and opened his mouth, moistening his lips with a dry tongue that seemed to do nothing. For a few seconds, nothing came out, but he tried again and managed to form a full thought. "After… after being dead for as long as I have, you come to… appreciate the… ephemerality of things, especially the human lifespan. And in… appreciating that ephemerality, that brevity, you learn to take what amusement you can before… before it's too late."
The words had the opposite effect from what Shikamaru intended, and Neji tried to jerk his hand free from the tree trunk, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Cut the bullshit metaphors, Shikamaru. They won't work on me anymore. Either tell me straight or just let me leave."
"I wasn't-" Shikamaru started, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. He wouldn't be getting through to Neji in that vein when he was in this kind of mood. Besides, the strain of the shadow was starting to wear on his already depleted stocks of energy. He needed to switch tactics.
Three percent.
Without any warning, Shikamaru dismissed the shadow holding Neji to the tree, leaving him off balance from the unexpected release of the pressure he had been fighting against. Stumbling forward a little, Neji broke eye contact with Shikamaru as he sought to regain his lost balance, which was exactly what the phantom had been waiting for.
When Neji was leaned over, his arms held out in front of him for balance, Shikamaru swept across the clearing to where Neji stood teetering, feeling shadows bleed along the contours of his arms and down the backs of his hands and fingers. They looked, in all their dark fanning glory, like feathers of black flame, transforming his arms into wings. Neji sensed him coming and looked up from his recovering stagger, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the speeding bullet that was Shikamaru.
Shadows dripping from his fingers, Shikamaru slammed into Neji, pinning him to the tree with not his shadows, but with the weight of his semi-corporeal body. Shock and more than a little fear flickered in Neji's eyes as Shikamaru seized his face in his hands, forcing him to look the phantom directly in the eye.
"You speak of reality as if you have no concept of where you stand in it," he hissed, bringing his face in close to Neji's. "And of metaphors as if you don't use them yourself! 'Was any of it real?' You ask. Well, what world have you fucking been living in for it not to be real?"
"I… I…" Neji stuttered, his gaze becoming unfocused due to Shikamaru's closeness, then suddenly snapping back into focus as he tried unsuccessfully to push the phantom away. "I've been living in the world of harsh reality, where people lie to each other for their own sadistic enjoyment!"
"Lie?" Shikamaru asked incredulously, a sudden anger at Neji's rejection prompting him to seize both of his wrists and pin them against the tree above his head. "Everything I told you, every secret I shared, and you have the audacity to accuse me of lying? I have been nothing but open with you, sharing my past, even my death, all the while I've had to pry you open with a hatchet for every scrap of information! And you dare to say that I lied to you? I would have more grounds to accuse you of lying to me!"
The sudden angry tirade had shocked Neji into silence, but the last part of it drew another angry response from him, and he thrashed against Shikamaru's uncompromising grip. "How dare you accuse me of lying! I'm the victim in this situation!"
"By what logic?" Shikamaru cried, pushing the struggling Neji harder against the tree. "You're the one who's been leading me on for a week! If anything, I'm the victim! I'm the one who's going to be left, suffering, when you go riding off into the sunset! Getting you to open up has torn open wounds I'd healed long ago, but you haven't lost anything, have you? You can just leave and live your life happily without ever having to think of me again!"
"Well obviously I fucking can't!" Neji almost screamed, the beginnings of tears starting to prickle in his eyes. "I'm here, aren't I?"
The unexpected confession froze both Shikamaru and Neji as it resounded through the air. The shadows dripping from Shikamaru's hands dissolved into smoke and drifted away on the cool breeze, and his suddenly incorporeal hands passed through Neji's wrists to rest gently outside the bark of the tree. Even though his hands were no longer captive, Neji left them where they were, leaning his head back against the tree trunk with a sigh and unknowingly showing off the ring of bruises around his neck.
"I'm here..." Neji repeated more softly, almost to himself. "I'm here because you fucking messed me up."
"And I… I'm here because you messed me up," Shikamaru countered more gently, all trace of accusation gone from his voice.
Neji gave a sad little smile, his chin lifting the slightest bit in a gesture almost reminiscent of defiance. "Well, who's fault was that?"
"Mostly mine," he admitted.
Shikamaru let his head fall forward until his insubstantial forehead brushed against Neji's solid one. He'd released the shadows and the brief stint of semi-corporeality fairly quickly, but it still had had a fairly sizable impact on his energy reserves. Two percent.
Shifting uncomfortably in the silence, Neji broke it by venturing a question. "If you don't mind me asking, how many… how many people have played games with, like you played with me?"
Shikamaru felt his face close off slightly at the question. He knew Neji wouldn't like the answer, but he wasn't about to lie to him.
"Too many to count," he replied tiredly, and Neji's eyes widened a little, something akin to betrayal hiding deep within the gaze. "But," Shikamaru hastily continued, trying to dispel the new emotion in Neji's eyes, "most people require very different gameplay. They were mostly one-sided games, games of observation or gambling. It's hard to play a game of chess with someone who can't see you." He tried to lighten the confession with a smile, but the hurt still reflected in Neji's eyes.
"So, was I just one of hundreds to you? Thousands, even?"
Shikamaru shook his head, still tracking the shadows of betrayal in the contours of Neji's face. "You were never like the others, the ones whose names I never even bothered to learn. You were and are unique; you, I wanted to play with most of all."
"Please," Neji snorted, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to meet Shikamaru's gaze. "You don't care about me. You just need someone to fight against."
"Do I?" Shikamaru couldn't deny that the accusation sparked a little anger, but it was one easily contained. He made the front of his body corporeal and pressed against Neji without warning, pinning him to the tree.
The move, so unexpected to Neji, made him snap his head back front, only to find his mouth less than an inch away from Shikamaru's and their noses almost touching.
"Don't think I'm so easy," Shikamaru growled huskily.
Red started to flame up Neji's cheekbones and he tried to hide the blush by turning away again, but before he could, Shikamaru caught his chin and gave one last glance into his eyes to determine the potential consequences of his actions before closing the remaining distance between them.
Like before, Neji melted at the touch of Shikamaru's lips, losing control over his body as his eyelids started to flutter to half mast, then closed. His hands, which had been resting against the tree trunk over his head, came trailing down to drag through Shikamaru's hair before settling at the back of his neck. Halfway mirroring his movement, Shikamaru brought one hand up to delve between the damp hair sticking to Neji's neck and his skin, resting his thumb on Neji's blush-stained cheekbone and cradling his jaw in his palm. Pressing his advantage, Shikamaru used that hand to pull Neji closer and angle his face into a better position to deepen the kiss.
The slight chaste hesitation on Neji's part evaporated when Shikamaru tilted his face up with his thumb and urged his mouth open. With a small mewling gasp, Neji complied, opening his mouth and pushing up onto his tiptoes to pull his body closer to Shikamaru's, heating him with a warmth that made the chill breeze all but disappear. Shadows started to wind about the pair without Shikamaru's bidding, but they only served to fan the passionate flames sparking between them.
Deliberately, Shikamaru pulled back with a gasp, breaking contact with Neji almost entirely. Back at the Hokage, this had been the point when his mind had woken up and fought against the phantom, and he was curious to see if the same thing would happen again. It came as a pleasant, but not altogether surprising, development when Neji's eyes snapped open and a sound ripped from his throat more akin to a seductive growl than an angry roar. A confident fire Shikamaru had never seen before flashing in his gaze, Neji came after the retreating phantom, ripping off his suit jacket and throwing it into the low branches of the birch tree before grabbing the back of Shikamaru's neck and pulling him forward into the first kiss he had initiated. The unexpected force with which he pressed against Shikamaru drove him back several steps, and he felt a smirk pull up the corners of his mouth. Now this was fun.
With a sudden fervor, Shikamaru slammed Neji back against the tree with enough force to make him gasp into their conjoined mouths, asserting his dominance over the boy. But Neji was having none of that and pushed back almost violently against the phantom, knocking him off his feet and sending him tumbling to the ground. The move caught Shikamaru off guard slightly and he almost frowned a little in worry that he was being rejected, but Neji wasn't far behind him, following him down in an awkward tangle of limbs. Their mouths rested an inch away from each other's as their eyes connected, a smug confidence radiating out from Neji's eyes into Shikamaru's slightly but pleasantly surprised gaze before he kissed the phantom again, but gentler this time.
Shikamaru allowed the new pace for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of Neji's smoldering lips and letting the slow burn consume him before shaking his mind awake and retaking control of the kiss and Neji. For a few moments, he dominated the kiss from below, making Neji come to him, before he flipped the two of them over, reversing their positions. With the better leverage of his new position, Shikamaru was able to completely dominate Neji, keeping him pinned to the ground even when he made a valiant effort to reverse their positions once more.
Almost gleefully, Shikamaru resumed his attack on Neji's mouth, kissing him with more force and keeping him pinned against the ground with the weight of his now completely corporeal body. He could feel the dampness of the waterlogged moss and knew it had to be soaking through Neji's clothes and making him uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to care, even when he felt the extra strain of full corporeality drain his spectral battery even more dangerously low than it already was.
One percent.
Suddenly, there was a dampness in Neji's face that didn't come from the moss, and he stopped moving, lying still beneath the phantom. Confused, Shikamaru pulled back to look at Neji's expression, and as soon he broke the kiss, Neji turned his head to the side, hiding his eyes but not the tears trailing down his cheeks.
"See? I was right," he whispered quietly, but Shikamaru still heard the catch in his voice. "You don't need me. You just need someone to fight against."
For the first time since landing on the ground, Shikamaru looked down at Neji and realized the position he had trapped him in. Neji was laying flat against the ground, and Shikamaru found himself suspended over the top of him, straddling his hips and holding him down with the weight of his solid body. Like before against the tree, he had trapped Neji's wrists with his hands and forced them above his head, but now, with his head turned to the side because he couldn't hide his face in his hands, it felt indecent to Shikamaru, like he was taking advantage of Neji. Like all he really did need was someone to push against him, no matter the circumstance.
As soon as that thought hit him, Shikamaru jerked away from Neji as if he'd been burned. He landed on his haunches several feet away, far enough that he could no longer touch Neji, but close enough to see the play of emotions across his face, starting with the mounting hurt as Shikamaru's actions provided enough proof to him to prove him right.
You're wrong, something inside Shikamaru yearned to cry out, but he knew it wouldn't make any difference. Neji would only be convinced by actions, and he'd unthinkingly taken exactly the wrong one. The only way to change Neji's mind would be with an even greater action, but he didn't know what or even how to do it. For all he knew, Neji could be right; he could a monster that feasted on the corpses of human emotions now that his own were dead. But, then again, Shikamaru already knew that.
Slowly, avoiding looking Shikamaru in the eye, Neji pushed himself up on his elbows, lifting his face to the sky and letting his loose hair trail down to touch the damp moss. He didn't bother even trying to hide the tears that were falling faster now, and Shikamaru suddenly found himself wondering why. What was driving his fairy-boy's sorrow?
The sudden possessive pet name gave Shikamaru pause, almost freezing his thoughts in place as he remembered the time he'd given Neji that nickname. Though he hadn't realized it then, that had been when his goal had changed, from wanting to open Neji up and learn everything about him to wanting something more tangible: Neji himself. The realization broke the frozen fog that had descended over Shikamaru, and he looked over just in time to see Neji raise one hand to the moon, as if he could command it to his side with only his outstretched fingers.
The unexpected parallel to his own earlier movement made Shikamaru suddenly realize exactly how alike he and Neji were. They were both alone, both yearning, and both confined, Shikamaru by death and Neji by something he had yet to disclose to the phantom. It made Shikamaru suddenly want to hold Neji as he cried and assure him that everything would be alright. The strangely paternal instinct flowed unchecked though Shikamaru's veins, and he found himself reaching for Neji before he knew what he was doing.
With a soft sigh, Neji allowed his arm to drop back to the ground, and Shikamaru froze in his forward movement as his mind caught up to his body. Neji let his eyelids flutter closed as a fresh tear leaked from the corner of each eye and made its way down his already damp cheeks. Recalculating his forward momentum, Shikamaru changed his course slightly, pulling the cuff of his army jacket over the heel of his palm so he could wipe away the tears on Neji's cheeks.
His army jacket?
Pausing in his endeavor, Shikamaru glanced down at himself to discover that his outfit, and indeed his whole body, had reverted to the way it had been when he had died without his direct command. A soft smile pulling up the corners of his lips, Shikamaru resumed reaching forward until the cuff of his jacket brushed against Neji's cheek.
Neji's eyes immediately popped open at the first brush of rough fabric, his eyes focusing on Shikamaru's face through waterlogged eyelashes. He struggled into an upright sitting position, trying to push the phantom away at the same time, but Shikamaru caught his hand and stilled it gently while his other hand kept wiping away Neji's tears. As if giving up once and for all, Neji let his head slump forward, and Shikamaru gently pulled him against his chest, enveloping him in arms that were fast losing corporeality. A sense of urgent dread took over Shikamaru; he didn't have much juice left, so whatever he wanted to happen had to happen fast, before he lost consciousness.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, surprising himself with the ease of the confession.
Neji abruptly stiffened in his arms, and soft but harsh laugh escaped him, muffled against Shikamaru's jacket. "For what?" He asked dully, as if not expecting an answer.
For everything, Shikamaru almost said, but he wasn't about to lie to Neji. He wasn't sorry for everything; in fact, he wasn't sorry for most of what he'd done. Because, as Neji had said, it had been the most fun he'd had in a long time.
"For making you cry," he said instead, surprised with how well it fit with the moment.
Neji gave one more gasping sob before his tears dried up, but he still kept his face hidden in the folds of Shikamaru's jacket. "I'm sure you bloody well are," he sniffed with false distain, his words hard to make out through the fabric covering his face.
But Shikamaru really was sorry, an emotion he didn't often feel. Things he'd done deliberately he never felt sorry for - that was a personal philosophy of his - and he hardly ever did things undeliberately, so apologeticness was a fairly rare emotion in the phantom's heart. But the things he'd done with Neji, especially the things he'd done that night, had all been… well, perhaps 'accidental' wasn't quite the right word for it, but it was a damn sight closer than deliberate.
Drawing in a large, shaky breath, Neji disentangled himself from the folds of Shikamaru's jacket and leaned back, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if he was trying to force the tears back, to deny that they had ever existed. A pang went through Shikamaru's unbeating heart at the sight; to him, it felt like any emotion Neji let him witness was too precious to deny the existence of.
In an explosive burst, Neji released the breath he had been holding, dropping his hands from his eyes at the same time. The skin around his eyes was puffy and tinged with pink, and a bright red spot had started blossoming on the tip of his nose. Projecting an annoyed air to cover up his insecurity, Neji swiped an almost angry hand under his nose to wipe away the liquid dripping there, muttering something about how much of a mess he must look like.
When Neji's hand dropped once again into his lap, Shikamaru found his gaze drawn to the slowly darkening bruises on Neji's throat. They were an unidentifiable color now under the scant moonlight, but Shikamaru knew that by the time the sun rose, its rays would reveal an impressive mass of purple and green stretching the entire way around his throat and passing dangerously close to his Adam's apple. The only reason he was still able to talk now was the fact that Sasuke had grabbed him from behind rather than the front, so most of the pressure had been concentrated at the sides of his neck rather than directly over his vocal chords. In fact, Shikamaru had guessed with his limited knowledge of medical science, the only reason Neji had passed out at all, even though it was only for a few seconds, had been because Sasuke had temporarily cut off the flow of blood to his brain, not the flow of oxygen into his lungs. Shikamaru had enough basic medical knowledge to know that asphyxiation due to choking would have taken a significantly longer time.
But the physical presence of the bruises sparked something more than simple scientific observation in Shikamaru. They reminded him, suddenly, of his own words on the ephemerality of life: After being dead for as long as I have, you come to appreciate the ephemerality of things, especially the human lifespan. And in appreciating that ephemerality, that brevity, you learn to take what amusement you can before it's too late.
Because life could be truly brief… and fragile.
Shikamaru clenched his hands into fists to stop their trembling. He suddenly felt very old and still in the face of Neji's vibrant tears. It was like looking into a mirror reminiscent of his youth and life, while his own unchanging body felt the strain of passing years: a Dorian Grey-esque perversion. Shikamaru felt a sudden sense of responsibility for the lines on Neji's face he hadn't noticed when he'd first met the boy.
Unthinkingly, Shikamaru reached forward again to trace one of those new lines, only to have his hand pass right through Neji's cheek, and he realized that his body, unable to find the energy to hold full corporeality, had let it go without him noticing. The sense of urgency from before retook Shikamaru, but with even greater force this time; he had something to say, and he wasn't going to let himself go to sleep without saying it.
Dragging up the very last scraps of his strength, Shikamaru made his right hand corporeal and grabbed onto Neji's own hand, stilling it from making another coarse swipe across his face.
With a frown carefully placed on his for false bravado, Neji tried to pull his hand away, but Shikamaru refused to relinquish it. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to pull free from the phantom's grip, Neji sighed and used his other hand to perform that final swipe under his nose before sniffing one last time and fixing Shikamaru with his gaze, hurting but proud.
"You've made it clear that you've already gotten what you wanted from me, so why can't you just let me go?"
The gaze piercing into Shikamaru's eyes was the clearest window into Neji's soul he had gotten yet, and a sudden laugh bubbled to the surface of the still lake of his emotions, threatening to spill over into the night air.
"You just wanted to be the one to walk away! That's the reason you came after me tonight!" Shikamaru chuckled lightly, and Neji's eyes widened in astonishment and a slightly affronted fear.
"That's not true at all!" Neji snapped back, affronted by the accusation. He tried even harder to tug his hand away, but Shikamaru kept it caught in a grip as strong as a vice.
"It's true and you know it, Neji," Shikamaru rebuked. "Don't argue with me. I don't have much time left."
Something in Shikamaru's voice must have alerted Neji to his urgency, for he stopped struggling and regarded the phantom more closely.
"Time?" He asked slowly, as if turning the notion over in his mind to determine the definition of the word itself.
Gritting his teeth from the effort he was spending, Shikamaru ignored the single-word question in favor of pursuing his own goal. His hand tightened almost unconsciously over Neji's fingers, squeezing them together in a way that had to be painful, but the young Hyuuga gave no complaint, or even a sign that he felt any pain.
"You may have wanted to be the one to leave, but I won't let you," Shikamaru said abruptly, fixing his gaze squarely on Neji's. "I'm not done with you yet."
"Not done with me?" Neji asked almost incredulously, a little hope masquerading as anger darting through his eyes. "How? Haven't you won your game? Didn't you accomplish your goal?"
"Not quite." Shikamaru leaned forward in a way that had Neji mirroring his movement as if they were magnetized. "I got you to open up, yes, but what I really wanted to do was find out the why behind it all: why you grew your shell, why you outwardly scorn physical contact but inwardly yearn for it, what makes you the man you are today. You see," he added with a soft smile after seeing Neji's shell-shocked expression, "even the most promising set of data is useless to a scientist if he has no equations with which to compute it."
Neji made no visible reaction to being compared to a set of numeric data, only shook his head slightly and dropped his gaze from Shikamaru's in a gesture reminiscent of defeat. Cocking his head to the side, Shikamaru considered this unexpected reaction. What was causing Neji's behavior? Could it be the same thing that had caused his shell in the first place?
As if to prove Shikamaru right in his assumption, Neji sighed and said, "I… I wouldn't hold your breath for that. There are some things I can't ever talk about, and not by my own rules. The Hyuuga family is very strict."
Shikamaru heard a lifetime of hidden hurt and fear ring in those six words, and it made his jaw tighten in anger. No one - no one! - had to right to oppress his fairy-boy! The hand not holding onto Neji's clenched into a fist of its own accord as Shikamaru beheld the shift in Neji's downcast gaze at his silence. At that moment, he made a silent vow to himself: that he would find the source of Neji's hidden pain and eradicate it. He knew it was a foolish vow, but that's why he made it; sometimes, to be human, you had to be a fool.
Spending the last of his already depleted energy, Shikamaru made his left hand corporeal as well and used it to tilt Neji's face up. Locking eyes with him, Shikamaru said, "I will learn everything there is to learn about you, Neji, even if it destroys both of us in the process. Because then, we can rebuild each other."
Neji's breath caught and he made as if to speak, but Shikamaru wasn't done yet. He silenced Neji with a finger across his mouth and continued his declaration.
"I will follow you wherever you go and find out, not just what makes you tick, but why it makes you tick. And," he added with a wry tilt to his lips, "not just because it's the most fun I've had in ages. Because I want to."
Neji, his eyes floating in and out of crystal focus and staring at fantasy, spoke from behind Shikamaru's finger, brushing his lips against the solitary barrier. "But.. But you can't leave Konoha-"
"I will follow you to the ends of the earth and forever," Shikamaru swore.
That was the final straw. Neji, his mouth still open from his interrupted sentence, gave a single gasp, as soft as the cry of a newborn kitten, and leaned in towards Shikamaru. The phantom mirrored his forward movement, and together, they closed the distance between them and let their mouths touch delicately.
This time, Shikamaru was content to let the kiss stay slow and gentle, and he let Neji take the lead. It was nothing like before, all soft edges and warmth rather than hard ridges and blazing heat, full of sweet promises for an uncertain future, and Shikamaru reveled in it. Neji reached a hand up to rest on Shikamaru's cheek, and he smiled, feeling Neji smile back despite his still-puffy eyes.
But suddenly…
The world started swirling around Shikamaru, and an absolute exhaustion overtook him…
His thoughts were disjointed, fractioning, but he didn't - couldn't - care…
And then…
Zero percent. Powering off.
The world around Shikamaru disappeared until it was just him and Neji, and then that was gone too. Slowly, he pitched forward until he hit what he assumed was the ground, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything; his mind was disconnected from his body, and all he knew was that he was tired… Oh, so tired… And the ground, even though he couldn't feel it, even though he couldn't even interact with it, seemed so, so inviting…
And then, for the first time in over fifty years, Shikamaru slept.
It had been with a distinct disconnection from reality that Neji had watched Shikamaru's eyes close and felt whatever soul was left in his insubstantial body flee to a place he couldn't follow. A sound like a soft sigh escaping his lips, he folded forward through Neji, causing a swooping sensation in the depths of his stomach as the phantom passed through his torso and rested, hovering over the ground, in the same space his own body was occupying.
Carefully disentangling himself from the unconscious and incorporeal phantom, Neji stood up, looking down at his hands as he pushed himself to his feet, then cocked his head to the side as he looked back down at Shikamaru. In the time he'd looked away, only the few seconds necessary for him to stand, Shikamaru's form had started to blur, half dissolving in front of his very eyes. The thick army jacket that been conjured up by his distress flaked off into shards of darkness that dispersed into the shadows drawing up around him like a protective blanket. For a few seconds, the shadows covered him entirely, like a shroud for the dead, but they soon cleared, revealing a much younger version of Shikamaru, younger than Neji had ever seen him.
He looked to be about ten or eleven, and a youthful innocence rested about him in place of the thick shadows that seemed to be ever present all around him, particularly in his eyes. Neji settled down onto his haunches to better watch the flickering movement of Shikamaru's eyes behind his eyelids.
This young face of Shikamaru held small recognizable aspects - the sharp angles of his cheek and jawbones, the unmistakably unique arch of his eyebrows - but the peace there was utterly alien to Neji. This was the face Shikamaru had worn before his childhood had flown away on wings of gold, leaving only shadows behind, before he had been forced to live through the horrors that had been the Great Depression and World War 2. This was a Shikamaru Neji didn't know, but this was the Shikamaru he wanted to know.
Before he knew what he was doing, Neji had dropped to his knees and reached forward to brush a soft lock of hair away from Shikamaru's brow, only to have his fingers pass right through it.
Right. Shikamaru was dead. Had been for fifty years.
Neji hastily stood and moved away from the motionless ghost on the ground. How he'd allowed himself to loose control like that, to forget that Shikamaru wasn't a living, breathing human like him, he didn't know, but the slip scared him. He couldn't afford to mess up like that in front of his uncle or any of the other Hyuugas.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Neji made his way to the birch tree he'd tossed his jacket in earlier. As he grabbed it, he spared a few seconds for wry laughter at himself and his situation. His clothes were wet from sitting on the moss, his hair was a mess, he was cold and damp and generally uncomfortable and unkempt, and he didn't even care. It was a far cry from the spotless appearance he'd brought with him to Konoha.
Neji shrugged his jacket on, then gathered his hair into a bundle in preparation for tying it back into his usual ponytail, only to find out that he didn't have an elastic. With another wry laugh, Neji twisted the bundle of hair into a thick rope and pulled it up into a bun at the back of his neck, tucking the ends up under the bun to make it stay. It had been a long time since he'd worn his hair this way, he mused as he picked up the umbrella from where he'd dropped it earlier. This town must be rubbing off on him in more ways than he'd realized.
Just as Neji was about to step from the clearing once and for all, Shikamaru's earlier accusation jumped into his mind: You just wanted to be the one to walk away! That's the reason you came after me tonight!
Abruptly, Neji stilled, his head turned deliberately downwards to avoid looking at Shikamaru's unconscious childlike form. He'd denied it at the time, but it was true; he'd wanted to regain control of the situation, even if only unconsciously, and he'd thought he could do that by being the one to walk away. Well, now he had that chance: he could walk away right now, and Shikamaru wouldn't be able to follow him.
He wasn't sure if the prospect made him glad, or lonelier than he could imagine.
Steeling himself, Neji gripped the handle of the umbrella tighter for balance and started to take another step away from the clearing, but was stopped when the umbrella changed once more into the form of an enchanted sword. It felt heavy in Neji's grip, wet with the blood of the dragon he'd fought but still shining with truth. For a brief second, the clearing disappeared around Neji, and he was on a hill next to the dragon's cave. His jacket was gone, replaced by shining, blood-spattered armor, and the weight at the back of his neck was caused by, not a bun, but a feathered helm. All of this flashed through Neji's senses in the briefest of instants, accompanied by one thought: The dragon is not yet slain.
And then Neji blinked and it all disappeared; he was standing at the edge of a clearing in wet clothes and holding an umbrella. The vision was gone, but the feelings it evoked remained, causing his hand to tremble around the handle of the umbrella. Unwillingly, he found his gaze drawn backwards, to the form of the unconscious ghost in the center of the clearing.
Shikamaru had curled up on his side facing Neji, his small arms pressed up tight to his chest. He looked, with his tiny form dwarfed by the oversized shirt of the size he had worn in his early twenties, like a small angel, come from heaven to lie down on the earth. The look on his face was peaceful, more peaceful than Neji had ever seen it, giving him an aura of serenity and youthful purity.
Unable to help himself, Neji turned completely back and set down his umbrella. With the air of youth and purity he was exuding, Shikamaru reminded Neji a little bit of Hinata. They were both unspoiled by life, but delicate, like a single breath of foul air could turn them sour. Neji had been formed into the creature he was now by the pressures of the Hyuuga family, and he was fighting to let Hinata keep her innocence for as long as possible so she wouldn't grow up to be like him. Likewise, he felt like this tiny creature before him was deserving of protection, of preservation from the horrors he would experience in his life.
But he already had experienced them. Shikamaru had lived and persevered and died already, and no amount of protection Neji could give him now would make any difference. This little angel, this fey-child slumbering on the forest floor, was destined to face hardships Neji could only dream about and shudder, and he couldn't do anything about it. The abject hopelessness of it made Neji's throat clench, and he looked down briefly to prevent a fresh round of tears prickling the corners of his eyes.
Really, what was with him tonight, crying at the slightest provocation? It was a shameful behavior, really, and he'd never get away with it once he was back in the den of inquisition, so to speak. He'd have to be more careful. There was, after all, a reason why he'd grown his shell in the first place.
Wiping his eyes to make sure no rebellious tears lingered there, Neji looked up again, only to find that his feet had taken him, without his direction or consent, to the center of the clearing, where Shikamaru lay. His breath caught on his throat, and Neji was struck again by much Shikamaru reminded him of Hinata. Instinctively, Neji dropped into a crouch and leaned forward to press his lips against Shikamaru's forehead in the same manner he had kissed Hinata earlier that night, forgetting for a moment that Shikamaru was dead and he would pass right through him.
Except he didn't.
The skin on Shikamaru's forehead didn't exactly feel like flesh, but it was more solid than the insubstantial mist his form had taken when Neji had touched him earlier. The closest thing Neji could compare it to was tightly spun spider silk; it was strong, not letting Neji pass through its surface, but delicate at the same time, like a gossamer fabric.
Surprised, Neji leaned back, and Shikamaru shifted in his sleep, uncurling a little bit, tension draining from his limbs. A small hand reached for Neji's, and he froze when Shikamaru laced fingers through his. The fingers were less substantial than his forehead, but they still held enough substance to press lightly against Neji's hand, and when he pulled away, they gave up their corporeality as easily and softly as a sigh, slipping through him to fall gently against the moss.
Neji forced himself to stand up and turn his back to the fey-child sleeping before him. He was leaving, there was no way around that; he had duties and responsibilities that stretched far beyond the bounties of Konoha, to places where Shikamaru couldn't follow. And it was just as well; as Shikamaru had said, if they continued as they had been, they were bound to tear each other apart, something Neji was sure he could recover from - he was still alive, after all, and had a certain degree of emotional flexibility because of that - but Shikamaru, a static creature, wouldn't be able to. Neji felt the biggest difference between himself and Shikamaru was the phantom's sadistic streak; he'd leave a trail of suffering behind him, even going as far as to rip himself apart, whereas Neji operated with a little more care of his surroundings.
Perhaps leaving Shikamaru would also mean leaving the memories of their time together behind, but Neji doubted it. Somehow, he knew the impressions of shadows, of chess and riddles and games, of warm hands and even warmer lips, would never wholly leave him, but perhaps he could become stronger because of it.
With a deep breath, Neji squared his shoulders. He still had a lot to do: travel arrangements to make, both for transportation to the airport and the flight itself, a note to leave for Sasuke so he would know why his and Hinata's rooms would be suspiciously empty the next morning, the work he'd been neglecting for a week- and all of it to be done before sunrise. He probably wouldn't get any sleep that night, but that didn't matter; he doubted if his mind would let him sleep anyway.
Neji rested his hand against the trunk of the birch tree as he surveyed the dark forest ahead of him, half expecting a thin shadow to creep up the bark and pin his hand to the tree again. When nothing happened, he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. He removed his hand from the bark just as Shikamaru's words rose, unbidden, to his mind.
I will follow you to the ends of the earth and forever.
But Neji only shook his head with a smile. "I appreciate the offer, but you've got your own issues to sort out. Goodbye, Shikamaru. I think… I think I'll miss you."
With a stronger spring in his step, Neji strode out from the clearing and away from the ghost sleeping in its center.