"You married a demon?"
The occupants of the room all shared disturbed looks. As unlikely as it was, if he didn't have their attention before, he certainly had it now.
Naruto's eyes widened—in shock? In pain? Boruto couldn't tell.
"Wha...?" Dad said, heartache in his voice immediately answering that question.
Boruto looked back and forth between his dad and Gramps. Their relationship had been nothing but cordial and supportive on Boruto's end, so where did this... disapproval stem from?
He had an inkling that this wasn't going be the typical family gathering. His mom stood back with eyes on the tiled wooden floor, refusing to witness the altercation she knew would thrive in front of her. She looked unsettled, her chest heaving visibly and her lips strained from quivering. He wanted to approach her, embrace her, to ask her who did this to her. But he wasn't a fool. He knew.
Boruto had already noticed that his dad's treatment among his peers alone was a little… strange. Absent was the title "Lord," instead often substituted for "idiot." That was a given, considering Dad still had a long way to go until he was where he was at in the future, but still… his treatment, the lack of respect, it was insulting. Sickening. And as he stared into his grandad's eyes, inexpressive and yet still somehow so emotionally-fueled, he knew this had to have been over much more than trivial things like status or rankings.
"Many of our people fallen, defending this village from this… this monster, and you welcome it with open arms? Into our home?"
Monster? Fallen people? Boruto's eyes searched frantically round the room, landing on his mom, on Uncle Neji, wanting somebody, anybody to just clarify already. Dad? A monster? A scoff almost erupted from Boruto. How could one possible use that of all words to acknowledge his dad? He wasn't the one pushing the other into a corner, antagonizing and slandering and treating them as someone lesser. Somebody worse than lesser.
"I was there, at the Chūnin Exams a few years ago. I saw what it was capable of. I saw its powers in use. The power that slaughtered many of our own 16 years ago. Potential, that much is unquestionable. A great weapon for the village, perhaps, never amounting to anything more."
Never amounting to anything more? Boruto pursed his lips and held his breath, fighting hard internally to restrain a growl. His dad had certainly amounted to something far, far more valuable than just some destructive weapon—so much more. And how convenient that that little tidbit hadn't made the rounds yet. He looked up at his dad, wanting him to let it be known, to roar and scream from the top of his lungs, quickly disproving Grandad's confident statement with the blunt, hard-hitting truth.
But he didn't. He didn't do any of that. His dad instead took a step a back and looked away from Grandad's overwhelming gaze, staring at his feet and slowly shaking his head. With his face rumpled in hurt and disbelief, he opened his mouth and croaked, "No, that… that's not true…"
His dad stood stiff, like a deer in the headlights. He'd always struck him as someone who'd challenge others beliefs, someone who'd raise his head high and middle finger even higher. Someone who'd never go back on his word. And yet he just stood there, frozen, every bit of confidence ejected from him, as if he, of all people, needed to be convinced of his own words. Past, future, didn't matter, this was not the dad that he knew. Where was the dad that would shout from the rooftops insisting that he'd become Hokage, not accepting refusal? Not giving a damn what others thought? Why? Why had Grandad's words managed to elicit such an uncharacteristic response? As if those words had managed to pierce deep into Dad's heart, deeper than any kunai could.
"Lord Hiashi," Neji stepped in, "this isn't necessary at all—"
"Silence," he interrupted, snapping his head around and firing a finger at Neji, prompting him to recoil. "Do you not understand the barrage of comments I've had to endure listening to prior to coming here? Comments, like how the Hyūga name had tarnished and been made into a joke?"
Was it wrong to want to sock your own grandad in the mouth? It was probably wrong to want to sock your own grandad in the mouth. But Boruto really wanted to sock his own grandad in the mouth.
"I so hope that I had already fallen in combat long before then, if this is what's to represent the Hyūga."
Repeatedly. He wanted to sock his grandad's mouth repeatedly. He wanted those false teeth to come much sooner.
"Never mind combat. Perhaps a self-inflicted wound would be a more suitable escape from this fate."
Boruto's fist trembled by his side, a throbbing vein making itself visible on his temple. He pulled his lips back and snarled, brows furrowed as far as they could go, eyes narrowed and flashing red, vision obscured by an unruly fire. He refused to just stand idly by on the side, watching his dad stand in front of a train track of hurling abuse like that. If Dad was content with not saying anything and defending himself, then he could do whatever the hell he damn pleased. He on the other hand intended to step forward and unclench his jaw and separate his lips and unleash a devastating verbal onslaught, debunking every single nonsensical comment and daring his grandad, challenging him to make another.
But he'd already been beaten to the punch.
"That's enough, Father."
Hinata stood in front of him, both of them, shielding the two with her commanding presence. She spoke in that low tone she often did with, and yet the disdain, the pure, uncontrollable frustration still laced in her voice.
Her demeanor visibly flustered and discomposed, her own hands now trembling by her sides and balled up into fists. Significant, as fists were absent from the Hyūga's fighting style; it was looked upon as something rude, something insulting and distasteful, a poor representation of the clan. The Hyūga were always taught about composure and self-control, but the way her piercing gaze possessed an intensity with more weight to it than her own father's, it was clear to Boruto that years worth of training had long been abandoned.
This was it. This was what he wanted to see from her.
This was Mom.
The atmosphere was ripe with overbearing tension. Pale eyes staring through each others and deep into voids.
Hiashi broke eye contact first, turning away, slowly, yet still forcing everyone to stifle gasps and restrain the surprise on their faces. Everyone but Mom that is, who stood her ground and maintained her hostile stare. He walked towards the door in his usual unhurried pace, her head turning with him, watching him closely. He stopped in front of the door and clutched on to the handle, then turned his head and met her gaze once more.
"I didn't think you could disgrace the family name any more than you already have."
Hinata abruptly undid her stiff posture and lost the strength in her fists keeping them clenched, her face settling into a pained expression. Her head fell forward as Hiashi stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Once they heard the click, Naruto instantly let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, just as Boruto put his good hand on his knee, almost collapsing to the floor. Had he really come that close to threatening his gramps? He threw off the jacket draped over his shoulders and pressed a hand to his chest, taking slow, deep breaths to calm his nerves. He glanced up at Hinata between breaths, her entire body shivering and her head sinking even lower.
"Mom?"
His voice acted as a trigger for her retreat, engaging in a full-blown sprint to the door of the room Boruto wasn't familiar with.
"Wait, Hinata," Naruto pleaded, taking a step forward and jabbing a hand in her direction, "wait!"
Even his dad's cries fell on deaf eyes. She burst through the door and quickly locked it shut, leaving behind a trail of scarce droplets that only Boruto had noticed.
He lowered his head in defeat. Dad occasionally snuck a glance over at the door, as if struggling internally to decide if he should approach her or not. With a sigh, Boruto looked away, knowing she probably wouldn't open the door anyway, and deciding that he just didn't have any more energy left in him to keep scrutinizing his dad. Or stay standing up. He crouched down, careful not to undo Aunt Sakura's work on his arm as he crossed his legs. Neji rushed to his aid once more, but Boruto tuned him out completely.
"I give up," he muttered to himself.
Shikadai sat out in the porch reclined against a wooden pillar. One of his legs was folded and being used to support the weight of his arm, the other stretch out in front of him. His dad, wherever he was right now, would've insisted that today was an ideal day to watch the clouds, so Shikadai thought he'd sit back, look up and give it another shot, and hell, who knows? Perhaps today would finally be the day he recognizes the appeal of Dad's one favorite pastime and adopts it as one of his own.
He didn't. Once again, his eyes wondered off to something more interesting to look at somewhere over on the exterior of the house or the garden to his right. Nevertheless, he took advantage of the silence around him and went on to fulfilling his main purpose for coming out here: getting the gears in his brain turning. He thought about a lot things.
He thought of Boruto, and wondered how he was doing after the incident yesterday. He was probably going to give him a visit later on in the day to check up on him, seeing as there wasn't much to do here. He'd probe his arm and bug him for a little bit before the two began piecing together a strategy—for him.
The mysterious, hooded man. He thought hard about his strengths. He thought about their strengths and how they would fair against his. He tried to make sense of his abilities, to not a whole lot of avail, before his thoughts drifted off onto something else.
He thought about Inojin and Chōchō, and how much he missed them. He'd like to think they were pretty worried about him, too.
He thought about his mom, and how she'd finally gotten around to having that meeting with the Hokage, the one that was oh-so important an ambassador slash jōnin of her caliber just had to be sent to do it. Never mind the major role she played in the country's military forces, or, more importantly, the fact that the contents of the scrolls she needed to deliver weren't even really all that valuable, bordering on worthless, arguably, and if they did somehow end up being defiled by enemy hands, he questioned if there'd even be any real negative consequences brought about as a result. Yup. She definitely had no other ulterior motive. None at all.
Shikadai laughed. His mom wouldn't be her if she wasn't her usual stubborn, brash, troublesome self.
He thought back to when she was on the verge of tears during that incident, and how sleep completely eluded him that same night, unsettled, no, haunted by the imagery. How overwhelmed and deteriorated and broken his dad was, a shell of his former self, and was at a point where even she couldn't do anything to help.
He ran a regretful hand through his hair, hoping to soothe the headache he should've suspected would develop the pace of a raging inferno.
"Yo."
He cast his eyes upwards. It was his dad, leaning against the door, a hand stuffed in his pocket and the other holding a shogi board by his side. He then pushed off from the door and walked towards him, stopping a distance, well, about the size of a shogi board plus some leg room, then drew out a small red bag from out his pocket, presumably containing the pieces, and gave it a shake.
Shikadai looked at him, stunned, in complete disbelief, as if he couldn't for the love of him figure out his dad's intentions despite how painfully obvious they were. It's just that, Dad had already given him more attention in this one minute alone than he had practically all of yesterday. He then tossed the bag of tiles right onto his lap. Shikadai looked at it, then back at his dad's usual blank expression, then back down at the bag, repeating this a few more times.
"Know how to play?" Dad asked eventually, probably in response to his dumbstruck expression. He wasn't quite sure why that successfully broke him from his dazed state, or why he nodded as fast as he did, or especially why the corner of his lips quirked up like that.
"I can keep up."
Shikadai folded his other leg and brushed both hands over his thighs as Shikamaru placed the board down between them. He arranged his own legs into a similar stance while Shikadai poured the pieces out from the bag onto the center of the board. The two then retrieved their respective pieces from the small pile and began assembling their armies.
They did this in silence, which dragged on even into the first couple minutes of their match. No pieces of real value had been lost from either side yet. For a brief moment only, Shikadai allowed his paranoia to dial up and the conspiracy theorist in him to take over, wondering to himself if this was another one of the hooded man's tricks. Nothing as of yet seemed too out of the ordinary, but he kept alert. That is, until he lost a worthy piece this time, the Knight, and grunted involuntarily. Careless of him and shouldn't have happened, but in his defense he had much bigger threats to be concerned about.
"That hurt," said Shikadai.
Dad smirked. "That was warm-up."
Never mind. A shogi match where he'd been led into a false sense of complacency followed by an unintentional back-handed remark. Yeah, definitely Dad alright.
They continued playing in silence again. He wasn't expecting much else other than the usual result, but that hadn't calmed his growing desire to demonstrate to his dad that he was no push-over at the game. Which was odd, considering he never really cared all that much about "proving himself" to his dad on any other occasion prior this one, and played entirely for the thrill of it. But something about Younger Dad ignited that in him.
"How are Chōji and Ino in the future?" Dad asked, prompting Shikadai to look up from the board. "Good?"
Shikadai nodded. "Yeah," he said belatedly, only after he'd made a play he was happy with. He didn't have much else to add on to that.
Shikamaru put a tile down, making a loud tick sound, then said, "You mentioned Chōji's wife before, didn't you?" Shikadai nodded, just noticing the hint of a smile on his dad's lips. "Who is she?"
"Does a 'Karui' sound familiar?" Shikadai asked. Dad shook his head in response, unsurprisingly. "She's from Kumogakure," he clarified.
"The Cloud?" Shikamaru repeated, now stunned himself. "How did that come about?" Shikadai shrugged. As bluntly said as it was, he had to wonder this himself.
"Well, alright then," said Shikamaru, re-positioning another tile. "Ino and Sai?"
"Mm-hm."
"At least that one makes a little more sense." The two snorted, neither taking their eyes off the board. "Inojin, was it? He get his looks from his mom or Dad?"
"Hmm, I'd say probably more from Aunt Ino," said Shikadai. "He has her blonde hair, at least…"
"Ah…"
"…and Uncle Sai's pale skin."
Shikamaru recoiled away from the board and pulled his lips back. "Ouch."
Shikadai snickered under his breath. In defense of Inojin, he made it work.
"And Chōchō? She a gentle one like her old man?"
A scoff threatened to erupt from Shikadai. "If only." Actually, that was a lie. He hoped Chōchō would never change for a damn person. "The only thing they really even have in common with each other is… well, uh…"
"Love for potato of chips?" Shikamaru answered for him.
Shikadai laughed hard at that. "Right," he said, "let's go with that." His dad laughed hard at that. He'd forgotten how much he missed seeing him like this.
"How about you?" Shikamaru asked after eventually composing himself. "Chūnin yet?"
Shikadai shook his head. "I did take the exams once, but I lost in the semis." Or robbed. Robbed was probably a better word.
"Well, you at least got one win under your belt, right? That has to count for something."
"I guess. What about you?"
Shikamaru cast his head back, an eyebrow slightly higher than the other. "What about me?"
"How many matches did you win?" Drats. He hadn't meant to let the smirk slip so soon.
Shikamaru frowned. "She told you about that, didn't she?"
Shikadai confirmed with a nod. "She's not all that happy about it either."
"Trust me, I know," Shikamaru groaned, running a hand through his hair. "She's made that very clear plenty of times already."
"I think she wants a rematch."
"She's made that clear a bunch of times too," he said, eliciting a laugh from both of them. He then captured another of Shikadai's pawns. "How's Asuma Sensei?"
The tile slipped from Shikadai's grasp just as he was putting it down, disrupting nearby pieces. He froze. His heart rate soared. He tried his best to recover and pretend that nothing had happened, but he knew it was only a matter of seconds before his dad commented on his trembling hand, struggling to grab a hold of the piece.
"Oh."
Both Naras looked over to the garden where the familiar voice came from. There they saw the familiar blonde pigtails, the familiar teal eyes, and the familiar iron tessen.
God, did he love his mom. Or her timing. Whichever was responsible for the giant wave of relief that he felt.
She looked stunned, perhaps even more stunned than he did when approached earlier by his dad, and presumably for that exact reason, as evident from the way she observed the scene before her so attentively, as if she couldn't for the love of her figure out Dad's intentions, which, again, should be absurd given how painfully obvious they were.
"Meeting's over?" Shikamaru asked.
"Yeah…" That's it. She stopped to stare again, completely forgetting to close her mouth shut. "Yeah, we… we finished a little while ago."
The corners of her lips then raised into… a smile? Why on earth was she standing there smiling like that for? Well, not that either of them minded. But still.
"Sorry, don't let me interrupt," she said, hurriedly making her way towards the door before even finishing off her sentence.
"Oi, Temari."
Shikadai whipped his head toward Shikamaru just as Temari stopped in her tracks and did the same, slight confusion clearly written on her face. "What is it?"
He stroked the back of his neck out of habit, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Do you… want to join us?"
"What?" Shikadai and Temari both said in unison, mistakable for a gasp almost due to the intensity of disbelief in their voices.
"Well, you said you wanted a rematch after out last shogi match together, didn't you?" he clarified, still looking away from her.
Her dumbfounded expression was much, much more exaggerated now, completely abandoning all attempts to appear nonchalant. She stared at his profile and watched his eyes scan the board only briefly before finally glancing up at hers. Then, as if on cue, she spoke. "Yeah… I'd… I'd like that." She then awkwardly jabbed a thumb behind her, indicating to the door. "Let me… let me go wash up real quick and get into something more comfortable, and I'll… be right back, alright?"
Shikamaru smiled, and nodded once. "Sounds good."
She slowly nodded back, unable to help the broadening grin that spread across her face. She then quickly turned around once clear to her that biting on her lower lip wouldn't be enough to restrain it, and walked straight through the door of the house, dare say it, eagerly. Shikadai had a feeling that his mom wouldn't take very long. He caught his dad staring in her direction with that unsettling smile on his face again, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently in a compromised position in the game.
It was unquestionable. They were both still so gross. But… he didn't mind it so much this time. Just like he didn't mind that his dad had somehow managed to get the checkmate just three moves later anyway, nor did he mind that there was probably an equally as ridiculous looking smile on his own face.
"Don't buy it."
"Me neither."
"I'm serious," Temari gargled through a large mouthful of egg, "on my way back from the meeting, I saw it."
Both Naras looked skeptically at each other, then back at her.
"Don't buy it," repeated Shikamaru.
"Me neither," Shikadai followed quickly.
She harshly gulped down the food in her mouth. "I'm telling the truth! Ino had her arms round the pale guy's and held on for dear life, practically dragging him into some fancy restaurant." She stabbed another boiled egg with her chopsticks and took an inelegant bite from it. "He had that disturbing smile on his face the entire time, too."
Shikamaru looked at her, still somewhat unconvinced. "So Ino and Sai."
"Mh-hm."
"On a date."
"Unless you have any other suggestions as to what they were doing."
"No, no, I'm not doubting that, it's just… that was fast. Too fast."
She shrugged. "Didn't look as if he had much say in it."
"I'm skeptical if he even knows what a date is."
The two laughed briefly. Shikadai must've missed his cue though. He quite liked Uncle Sai. Blunt at times, but his heart was in the right place. Probably just another example of how drastically times had changed.
At moments like this though, where he was out of the loop, he'd just sit back and silently watch his parents interact. To put it simply, the dynamic of their relationship was just utterly absurd. Nonsensical. Now, Shikadai's experience in this sort of stuff was limited, or more accurately non-existent, but even he knew no relationship should consist of this amount of teasing and mocking and sometimes downright insulting. Even now, as she recovered traces of dinner from between her teeth and flicked them in his general direction despite his protests, he knew the way Mom's face lit up as she continued to rile him on was sincere, just as he knew Dad's frustration as he swatted her away with his chopsticks... well, wasn't.
The two should be incompatible, like oil and water, and yet still, they mixed effortlessly. As generic as that sounds.
Mom had joined the two of them not long after she'd left to change. Too soon, perhaps even. Nevertheless, the three went on to engage in wars of shogi. There were rematches and grudge matches and handicap matches. Harsh rules were enforced to favor Shikadai and his mom, such as limiting the time to make a move to just 5 seconds, and despite that, every single time, there was always one constant victor. They hadn't just played shogi while out here. The three had talked, for hours and hours and hours, distributing whatever stories came to mind. They had lunch here. They had dinner here. They laughed. A lot. Maybe even too much. Shikadai feared the consequences he'd have to suffer the morning after, already feeling his jaw stiffening and an irritating, stinging sensation every time he swayed it side-to-side.
And if he could go back in time again, he'd do it all over.
"Shikadai, be a dear and take my plate back inside for me," Temari said, dropping her plate onto his own empty one before he could even think about protesting.
"Mine too," Shikamaru said, doing the same. "Oh, and this cup."
Alright, he took it back; maybe he wouldn't do it all over. Shikadai carefully stood and trudged back into the house, making sure the stack in his hands didn't topple over.
The two briefly exchanged devious smirks at each other. He looked away and up at the sky, trying to locate the moon or any familiar constellations. Temari put her chin on her palm and bit on to the nail of her pinky finger, settling with staring at him. He glanced back at her, giving a quick once-over of her face.
"What?"
"You really impressed me today," she admitted.
"Thanks," he said. "Been meaning to try that move for a while now."
"I wasn't talking about shogi," she deadpanned.
"Then?"
She sighed and got up, straightening out her clothes slightly. "I'll tell you about it later."
"It's pretty late, in case you haven't already noticed," he said, extending his hand out and slowly gesturing to the dark environment. "When exactly is later?"
She rolled her eyes. "Later in bed of course, genius."
Oh. Right. Sharing the bed. He'd completely forgotten about that.
She stopped by the door and looked back. "Are you... are you coming?" she asked, almost... hesitantly.
His hand wondered over to the same spot on the back of his neck again, looking down to where his other hand was fidgeting in his lap. "Yeah," he said, just as hesitantly, "I'll... be there in a couple minutes."
He missed the radiating smile on her face in response.
He looked back up and, almost involuntarily, smiled to himself also, watching her figure retreating into the house.
And then he heard a clearing throat in acknowledgement. Shikamaru quickly thrust his head round in panic.
"S-Sensei?"
He too was smiling, as much as his mouth would allow with a cigarette in it.
"The two of you sharing a bed, huh?"
He was relieved the darkness had obscured most of his flustered state. "Wh... what are you, no, when did you even get here?"
"About two minutes ago. I even called your name, but you both just kept staring at each other, lost in each others eyes and—"
"Alright, I get it. Why are you here?" Shikamaru all but growled.
Asuma chuckled. "Relax. Just came here to remind you about the briefing tomorrow."
"Early start, I know, I know," said Shikamaru, raising his hands in defense.
He nodded, and said, "That's right. There's going to be lots of important people there." He then took the cigarette out his mouth and exhaled. "So make sure you don't oversleep again or anything."
"Geez, let it go already; that was one time," Shikamaru mumbled with his head inclined forward.
"Twice, actually," Asuma clarified, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and shoving his hands in his pockets. He walked towards the shogi board and took a step onto the porch. "Onigoroshi?"
Shikamaru proudly smirked, shoving his own hands in his pockets. "Glad someone appreciates it."
"I remember your dad using it on me one time before," said Asuma, crouching down to closer inspect the board.
"You too, huh?"
Asuma chuckled as he picked up a piece and let it rest in his palm. "Have you… figured out who the 'King' is yet?" He stood back up and tossed it at Shikamaru, who then caught it and began inspecting it himself. It read: King.
He shook his head slow. "Guessing you still aren't going to tell me?"
"You'll get it in time," Asuma reassured, already leaping off the porch and walking away from the property. He then stopping and turned his head to the side. "Perhaps even sooner than you think."
Shikamaru tried again to interpret his words as he absently watched Asuma drop the cigarette to the floor, putting it out with the heel of his footwear. And then his eyes widened.
"Oi, Mom'll lose it if she sees that."
"Right, my bad." He punted the flattened cigarette into the grass. "Get some rest, Shikamaru."
With a half-hearted wave, he responded, "Later, Sensei," and began walking towards the door.
"I mean it, by the way," Asuma hollered with a hand by his mouth, turning around and treading backwards. "Don't stay up all night with her!"
Alright. Last straw.
"Tell Kurenai Sensei I said, 'hey,'" Shikamaru hollered back, a hint of smugness for the occasion.
"Wh-wh—, I, h-h-how did you—?!"
The door had already slammed shut. With a ruffle of his hair and a groan in confusion, Asuma turned back around, searching himself frantically for his cigarette pack and lighter.
A/N: Been a little while, eh? Went to back to uni just a couple weeks ago, so I've been struggling to find both the time and brain power to even think about this fic, let alone getting to writing it. I'll try and update as soon as I can, but please forgive me if they're pretty late from here on. It's gonna be a pretty hectic year. :|
Quick explanation for the first scene. When I first thought of the fic, one of the main things I really wanted to focus on was Naruto's treatment before the Pain invasion. And Hiashi sort of came across as a bit of an asshole in Part I, so I thought, meh, he'd be a decent person to help highlight that. Also wanted to highlight the apparent weak relationship both Hiashi and Hinata had, at least early on in the series.
ShikaTemaDai fluff was a given. Come on now.
Anyway, hope you like it! Review! :D