The day had come.
Lady Fifth Hokage had given in to Temari's demands and the Leaf's captive – the young prince, Gaara – would be released back to the Sand Village in return for Shikamaru's safe return to Konoha. It was agreed that the rival forces would meet in neutral territory, in the Land of Rivers to exchange hostages. The Land of Rivers had agreed to send a pair of Valley Shinobi as neutral escorts and the respective Kage would be attending to overlook proceedings: Rasa to receive his youngest son and Tsunade to receive her chief advisor.
Temari's mission was finally almost complete; her little brother was almost home. The tension in the air, however, was palpable. There was no trust between these nations. No one would be able to relax until it was over.
For Shikamaru's part, he was largely looking forward to all this being a distant memory. He was looking forward to seeing Ino and Chouji again, and Mirai and Kurenai, even Naruto. He was looking forward to seeing his family alive and well and being back in his home, under his trees. He hoped the Village would forgive him for putting everyone to so much trouble, both personally from worrying for his well-being and politically from forcing them to give up a valuable asset. The embarrassment of his capture still left him a little sore, but time would heal that. He had other things to focus on.
The group left the desert heading East – Shikamaru and Temari, her father and brother, and a party of security escorts. There were horses again but, much to Shikamaru's relief, he wasn't expected to ride. This time, they were taking the most direct route, where the heat was still oppressive but the ground was solid enough that the Sand-nin were able to use a cart to transport their hostage. If things could ever be peaceful between their nations, this would have been their trade route. If war broke, this was the route the troops would take.
The cart was small and covered, just large enough for him to sit on an uncomfortable leather seat facing forwards while his guard sat opposite him. He couldn't see outside but had a sense of the energy of the group from what they were singing. The songs today were more aggressive than those he had heard on his way to the Village; fight songs. Someone had a drum.
The Princess sat opposite him, dressed in her combat gear again: the brown Suna flack jacket over her black clothing, hitai-ate bearing the Suna symbol across her forehead. They rode in silence as the wheels beneath them turned, the bumps in the road making them both shudder. In a few hours, this cart would be headed in the opposite direction, and Gaara would be sat where Shikamaru was now. The rhythm of hoofbeats and the rolling of the wheels pulsed through him steady as the drum beat.
He didn't realise he was staring at her until she began staring back. Studying her face, he wondered if she was facing the same turmoil he was. She hadn't killed him that night in the Nara clan home, but the version of Shikamaru Nara he used to be was dead and buried. Who he was now was a different man. The old Shikamaru had thought of the Sand as nothing but dust and blood. This man knew that the Sand was indeed dust and blood, but also music and laughter and stars and spice and pleasure. What must she think of Konoha now? Prudence and cruelty, yes, but also kindness, devotion.
He didn't trust his own feelings, so warped he must be by the trauma and the distance and the heat. He was scared he might return home and fall back into his routine and forget all about his time with her, as though she were a dream that might slip away as soon as he awoke, remembered only in fragments and flashes of memory when he heard singing or smelled sweet chestnuts or felt cool water against his skin. He wasn't in love with her, he knew that. A hostage couldn't be in love with his captor. Still, he wondered if there might have been a world somewhere far away that things were different.
But not this world. In this world, he would never again return to the Sand.
He would never see her again after today.
The air cooled as the party crossed into the Land of Rivers. By the time it was mid-afternoon, they were at the meeting place. The road met a broad river, a red wooden bridge spanning the breadth of it: Sand ninja to gather on one side, Leaf ninja on the other.
When the cart stopped, Temari lifted a corner of the curtain door to see outside. It was bright, and Shikamaru could see a pair of Valley shinobi by the bridge. Rasa – in his ceremonial Kage robes - and Baki had dismounted from their horses and were approaching the neutral escorts on foot. The party were silent now: no one sang. A horse snorted.
Temari let the curtain fall again and looked across to her prisoner. Shikamaru knew little about women and a lot about political etiquette but there was no protocol for this situation.
She didn't say anything, so he did.
"You know where to find me if you need me."
"Don't," she cut off his thought.
She was right, of course: it couldn't happen. She would never again be stalking through the Nara district, hidden behind her gutrah, looking for him. They would never again be as close as they were right now.
After today, it would all be over. This was the end. They'd be back not only to being alone but to being enemies, giving orders to kill each others' people and, if there was war, to kill each other. He wondered – if it came to it – if she'd want to kill him herself. He wondered if he'd stop her from doing so.
It was Kankurou who announced to them that it was time. He offered his sister his hand to help her step out of the cart and Shikamaru followed. Immediately, his attention was on the other side of the river, across the bridge, where the Leaf-nin were already waiting along the tree line. His heart was strong in his chest. He could taste his freedom.
The Valley Shinobi called to them, beckoning for Temari to bring her prisoner down to the bridge. On the other side of the river, Shikamaru saw some figures begin to step forward. Tsunade was there, flanked by some of his dearest colleagues and oldest friends. There was no sign of Ino or Chouji, however, which provoked a little hurt deep in Shikamaru's gut. He had been looking forward to seeing them. He thought they would have wanted to be here.
The Leaf hostage was escorted by Naruto. Shikamaru had expected someone of a little higher standing to have been given such a job and wondered if Naruto, the ninja who had been initially responsible for bringing Gaara home to the Leaf instead of killing him, had also been responsible for attending him this whole time. He heard his name being shamelessly shouted from across the river and Naruto was waving broadly in his direction. It warmed him. Naruto had that effect on people. He was so nearly home... The worst was over – maybe everything really was going to be okay. He just needed to keep his head down and follow the plan.
Shikamaru heard Temari inhale sharply when she saw her brother and her hand gripped into his upper arm like it had done when she was guiding him to the hold all those days ago. Her fingers were tense for a moment, squeezing at him, until she remembered herself and let him go.
"I think it's time," he said to her, lowly.
"Wait." Her hand went to the pocket of her jacket and lifted out something shiny. She presented it to him. It was his lighter. He reached out to take it from her, his fingertips brushing her palm as he did so. He felt the familiar weight of it in his hand, running his thumb over the gentle impression of the engraving. He hadn't thought he would ever see it again.
"Why did you keep this?"
She shrugged, but the smile she was attempting to hide spoke of how her nonchalance was feigned. "It's important to you."
If war came and she had to organise his destruction, he hoped she would send Kankurou to do it, or maybe Baki. If she came for him herself, he'd be a dead man.
"Good luck, Shikamaru." This was goodbye.
"Good luck, Temari."
Good luck in life. Good luck in the battles to come. Good luck standing up to her father. He wanted to hold her, but there were people nearby. By the time he realised that he would regret missing this final opportunity for the rest of his life, the moment was already gone.
It was time.
The pair walked side by side, observed by the Kazekage and the Sand-nin, down a gentle slope towards the bridge. The Valley shinobi escort on this side wore a cloak with a heavy hood, their face shrouded. They looked towards their counterpart on the Leaf-nin's side of the bridge where Naruto waited with Gaara, and gave a signal.
"You may go," they said. A quiver of strangeness flickered in Shikamaru's body. He wondered if he recognised the voice… but he didn't know any Valley shinobi. It must have been his imagination. He was under a lot of stress at the moment.
The red wooden floor of the bridge creaked under their steps as they walked across, the current strong below them. How beautiful it was to see Naruto coming towards him, a familiar face at last. Gaara was smaller in stature than Shikamaru remembered, not that he had had much to do with him. His hair was bright, his eyes dark and he had been allowed to wear the deep red robes that he had been wearing at the time of his capture. He winked at Shikamaru.
Shikamaru stopped walking, not yet in the centre of the bridge, still some distance from the safety of Naruto's company. His back straightened and his mouth felt dry. Something was wrong.
He knew that wink.
Not Gaara. Yamanaka.
The clouds in Shikamaru's head cleared.
"Temari, that's not your brother."
The puzzle pieces clicked together in his mind. The Leaf shinobi had taken out the Valley escorts and Ino was controlling Gaara's body as he was to be passed back to Temari. Tsunade had no intention of giving up her hostage quietly, no intention of letting Temari get away with her infiltration unpunished. They were going to show how dangerous it was to fuck around Leaf Village security, to make an example out of it. They were using this as an opportunity to take out Sand-nin, to take out Temari.
She stopped walking at his words and cocked her head at him, questioningly. Her eyes were wide, frightened.
"Tha ribe a' feitheamh," he told her. It's a trap.
So, the original plan was no longer feasible. He would not be simply handed over and sent home. But Shikamaru was nothing if not adaptable to shifting sands, able to strategise his way through changing situations. His mind was clear, counting the pieces on each side of the board, anticipating moves, minimising casualties. If he could end this now, there was still a chance of everyone getting away alive.
"Ino," he said towards Gaara's body. "Get out of him. Don't do this."
Gaara's body shook its head. Next to it, Naruto spoke out. "We're avenging you, Shikamaru!"
"I don't want this," he told Naruto. "Tsunade has to call this off." They weren't just avenging him, he knew. They were avenging everyone the Leaf had lost to the Sand over the years. The weight of Asuma's lighter in his pocket burned. This is what he had wanted once, but he had been wrong. The whole thing was wrong.
Temari's hand was on her tessen now. Shikamaru watched the Leaf ninja tense. He daren't look behind him to check the Sand-nin but could feel Rasa's chakra radiating. His friends were still far enough away from him to be out of range, they were all on the safe side of the bridge.
Except for…
Shikamaru threw a shadow behind himself, to the Valley shinobi who was not a Valley shinobi. As swiftly as he could manage, his shadow wrapped around their middle like a rope, and he pulled. It felt good to flex his chakra. Outside of the suppression field, he was strong.
"Shikamaru, what are you-"
He was certain he recognised the voice this time. He yanked Kakashi along the bridge and let go in time for him to skid along the wooden floor, just past Naruto and Gaara, to the safe side of the bridge. The assault dislodged the hood of his cloak, revealing their deception, and the other imposter from Leaf's side of the bridge came forward to help Kakashi to his feet. It was Yamato.
"Let us deal with this, Shikamaru!" Naruto meant well. He always meant well, but he was wrong. Shikamaru saw his friend's gaze switch from himself to Temari as he began to focus sharp, clean chakra into his palm.
Shikamaru crouched in front of his Princess, protecting her, and sent his shadow possession forward to catch Naruto. If there was anyone in the Leaf strong enough to fight against the possession, it was him, but Shikamaru held fast, just buying time until he could think his way out of this, watching the chakra ball that would have become a rasengan dissipating. He mustn't let them touch her.
Cover blown, the rest of the Leaf shinobi had come out of hiding to rain down upon the Sand Ninja. Everything became a blur of bodies. Tsunade held her position defensively but Kakashi and Yamato were ready for combat, flanked by a number of other ninja. Somewhere, Ino's body would be limp, protected by Chouji, while her mind was transferred into the Prince.
"Let him go, Ino," he said towards Gaara again. He could feel Temari staring at him, watching him protecting her from his own people, not understanding what was wrong with her brother.
"We looked for you, Shikamaru," came Ino's words through the rasp of Gaara's voice, through the prisoner's chapped lips. Even through the wrong body, he could hear the emotion in her meaning, pleading with him to believe that they hadn't abandoned him, that they were fighting for him.
"I know, Ino." He kept his voice steady despite the prickling behind his eyes. "I trust you. Trust me now. Let him go."
He heard Temari gasp as she watched Gaara's body suddenly slump to its knees, thinking him hurt, but Shikamaru knew the truth: Ino had let him free of her jutsu. He finally loosened the grip of his darkness from Naruto and went to Gaara, lifting the prince to his feet. His eyes grew wild now that he was regaining control of his body; the warm, knowing gaze of Ino replaced by the tormented, vicious look of Gaara.
Holding him steady by the shoulders, hoping he had made the right move, Shikamaru spoke his native language to him. Help your sister.
Temari had her tessen open to two moons, ready to swing as Naruto prepared to meet her Wind Style with his own. Gaara exploded out of Shikamaru's grip and swept himself into Naruto, throwing both of them over the edge of the bridge and crashing down into the sand of the riverbank beneath. Naruto had held his own against Gaara without killing him before and Shikamaru could only trust that he might be able do it again. Perhaps Naruto had been good to Gaara, just as Temari had been good to him.
Shikamaru looked around himself to recalculate his next steps. He needed to talk with Tsunade, he needed to find Ino and Chouji. But – more pressing - Temari was no longer behind him on the bridge.
His priority had to be on keeping his own people safe, it had to be, but he wouldn't help them take out the Sand ninja. They didn't know how hard Temari worked for her people, they didn't know how devoted Baki was to his students. He wouldn't let Shigazane die here today without ever having the chance to raise a child. There would be no more blood spilt over him.
And in the mess of it all, Rasa's anger was on his daughter. He wore the long white cape and green hat symbolic of his status and was raised up on a cloud of golden sand, throwing blades of the shining metal in her direction as she deflected them with her tessen, smashing them back into the glistening dust from which they were made. Shikamaru tried to focus on what the Kazekage was shouting: he was accusing her of planning this with Shikamaru, of being a traitor to her Village.
Kankurou was trying to get to her but Kiba and Akamaru had him occupied. Baki and Isago were taking on Kakashi and Yamato's assault while the young Konohamaru was headed to where Hakuto was waiting, Shino backing him up when Shigazane went to his partner's aid. Gaara was busy exploding on the other side of the river, a glowing Naruto trying to talk him down. Now Shikamaru had two battles to account for – the Leaf on the Sand and Rasa on Temari. He recalculated. Even if his pleading with Tsunade made her pull her forces back, that wouldn't calm Rasa's anger. From where he stood on the bridge, he caught Tsunade watching him. She shouted towards him, the authoritarian voice of his boss urging him to return to safety but he turned his back on her to head towards the Sand's side of the river. He did not, however, get very far.
His eyes never leaving his daughter, the Kazekage's hand swept an arc towards Shikamaru, blasting him and all of the shinobi around him indiscriminately with golden sand. The hit forced him backwards through the air, his body helplessly being flung to the opposite river bank. Shikamaru clenched his stinging eyes closed and protected his head with his forearms as he landed and rolled, his grey linens staining with grass and mud. It hadn't been a killing blow, Rasa had just been making space, but it had been enough to pause most of the individual battles, Shikamaru noted, while everyone got back to their feet in the wake of the blast.
On the Leaf's side of the river, Shikamaru was greeted by some very familiar voices.
"Don't you dare go getting yourself kidnapped again, you hear me?" Ino had thrown herself onto the ground and flung her arms around him before he could even think about getting up. He squeezed her tightly back, long enough for a third to join the hug.
"It's good to see you, Shikamaru." How Shikamaru had longed to hear Chouji's voice again. "We were all so scared. Your mom has been worried sick."
"Don't worry about that now," he told them both, shuffling free and letting them help him to his feet. The love in their embrace gave him strength but there was no time for a nostalgic reunion. "We have bigger problems."
He looked across the river to where Rasa was still on Temari. She was defending well against him but he wasn't backing down.
"Chouji – do you think you could get me back across the river? North of him, near the treeline?"
Shikamaru saw his friends' expressions drop. He was only just back in their arms and was already about to leave again. But he knew that they would both would back him up, no matter what. Even if it meant such a risk.
"You'll be out of range," Chouji warned.
"Not if you let me use your shadow."
"Right."
Ino interjected: "You'll need these." She handed him his trench knives.
When the stories were told of Shikamaru Nara's battle with Lord Rasa the Fourth Kazekage, certain aspects of the tale would naturally be exaggerated or completely made up, crucial details missed or forgotten entirely with time, as the years would pass and the tale would be told over and over by voices who weren't there, who hadn't seen, who didn't experience it. Only the person telling the tale decided what happened, decided who was a monster and who was a hero. Each listener and raconteur decided for themselves whether the battle was won or lost.
What actually happened, was this:
The Princess Temari was deflecting her father's blows with the steel of her tessen. He was aiming right at her from where he floated on his golden cloud, but reservedly so – he could have overpowered her had he chosen, but he was just lashing out. His real onslaught was in his words: accusing her of purposefully betraying her people and then, when she screamed up at him to argue her case, of being reckless in allowing such a deception, of being a failed shinobi, a failed daughter.
Her fan raised in front of her again, the colour on the face of it chipped from repeated impact and flecked with dirt and blood. But this time, nothing hit it. She was braced for impact, but none came. Cautiously, she lowered the tessen to see her father, still above her, still looking furious with the dark eyes he had been looking down on her with all of her life – frozen to stillness. Possessed. Her gaze followed the dark trail of shadow from her father along the broken ground on this side of the river, to where Shikamaru crouched, his hands in their sign in front of him, keeping her safe.
That's just what I do, he had told her the last time they had been in the Land of Rivers. That's how it works.
She was too far away to see that he was shaking. He had started strong: Chouji had used his expansion jutsu to aid him in two ways. The first was to take Shikamaru in a huge hand and extend him back across the river on a gigantic arm. The second was to remain enlarged under the bright, late summer afternoon sun. Shikamaru's strength was based on his chakra, but his range relied on the shadows he was able to manipulate and an expanded Chouji cast an expanded shadow, giving him an extended range. It was enough that Shikamaru could catch Lord Rasa in his possession with the stealth of distance, from near the treeline upriver.
Catching him, however, was only the first part of the problem. When he was a child and was still building his skills, he wasn't able to hold his shadow possession for very long or against strong opponents. This hadn't been an issue for years but now, the Kazekage was testing him. He was only incapacitating him to get his attention, but already her father was pulling against the possession. Shikamaru held on, but he didn't want to waste all of his chakra on this, not yet.
Rasa let the hot, choking feeling of his chakra radiate across the land, showing off again and, slowly, began to move. Shikamaru gritted his teeth, unable to paralyse him completely, watching him turn around to face his new opponent and close the distance between them, just as he suspected he would. Shikamaru's fingertips were white where they pushed together with tension as he focused, trying to brace against Rasa's strength. The Kazekage was close enough that Shikamaru could see a sick smile creeping onto his face as he was able to raise a hand towards him, just as he had done that day on the tower's balcony in the Sand, as casual as swatting a fly.
But Shikamaru had bought enough time.
By the time the attack was headed through the air towards him, there was a steel tessen shielding him from the hit. The sound of metal on metal made his ears ring, but the noise wasn't nearly as disorienting as the sight of Temari crouched with him behind their protection. Her chest was heaving with effort, her hair messed up and her expression vibrant with adrenalin.
"Why did you come back for me?"
One of her hands was braced against the tessen they crouched behind, the other was on his chest.
The truth was simple. "I gave you my word."
Her fist gripped his shirt and pulled him against her until their lips met. On his knees in the dirt, the sounds of fighting all around, he pulled away for just a moment - enough to see her mouth slightly open and blushed pink, enough to see the beautiful viridian eyes that he loved scanning his face – before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again, deeper this time, warm and urgent. Overwhelmed and unsatisfied, their lips parted and he rested his forehead against hers, touching her heat, breathing her air.
"I'm gonna go and do something stupid," he told her.
She called after him, but he was already gone.
Behind the privacy of her tessen, Shikamaru had slipped down the bank of the river, out of view, never moving into Rasa's line of sight. He took a moment to recalibrate his chakra and run his tongue over his lips, before moving a little way up the river. When he re-emerged a short distance away, Temari had come out from behind her tessen and her father was facing her, his arms crossed. Shikamaru couldn't hear what they were saying, but could guess the theme hadn't changed.
He flexed his fingers through his trench knives and let some chakra flow through them, feeling powerful in the familiarity of his favourite weapons. He threw one at Rasa. His aim was strong and true but it didn't matter: Rasa's sand formed a barrier in front of him and the blade clashed off it and fell to the ground. But that was okay. Shikamaru hadn't expected to injure him: he had expected to lure him.
And sure enough, Rasa was taking the bait and began gliding in his direction. His arms were still crossed over his chest when he got within spitting distance of his enemy.
"I'm insulted you think I'd waste my energy on a shadow clone," said the Kazekage.
Shikamaru – the real Shikamaru - laughed. "Alright, you got me."
The real Shikamaru had been waiting under cover of the riverbank. When he came out of hiding, Rasa was finally positioned between him and the tree line, just a shogi piece moving across the board, thinking itself in a position of power and unaware of the trap it had been manipulated into. He let the clone in front of Rasa puff into obscurity and retrieved both of the chakra blades with his shadows. Tall, sturdy beech trees gave tall, sturdy shadows. He braced his feet against the solidness of the earth below, his fists strong through his trench knives, letting chakra flutter through the blades.
"Those are some interesting weapons." Rasa looked down on him. "It's a shame you can't cast that shadow jutsu of yours while you're brandishing them."
It was true, Shikamaru couldn't weave handsigns and hold Asuma's trench knives at the same time. But Shikamaru knew something that Rasa didn't know: that he had recently spent a lot of time very quietly, very subtly, training under a chakra suppression field.
"Incorrect."
The shadows at Shikamaru's feet twitched. There were only a few elite shinobi in the Great Nations who were able to cast jutsu without weaving handsigns. And now, Shikamaru Nara was one of them.
The first shadow stretched a little way along the ground to where it hit that of the trees, giving Shikamaru all of the darkness he would need, with some to spare. The rest, he sent through the air. Four, eight, twelve, black snake-like tendrils of his jutsu shot upwards towards the Kazekage. Shikamaru saw the man flinch, his sand shuddering as though he were about to use it to protect himself – but the shadows simply shot past him: above, below, to his left and right… The sand stilled and Rasa relaxed again, dropping his arms to his sides.
"Impressive. But you missed."
A flicker of a smile curled onto the corner of Shikamaru's mouth. "Are you sure?"
Sand ninja weren't used to fighting amongst the trees. His shadows reached past the Kazekage, to the thickest bough of the biggest beech tree behind him, and anchored around it. There was a new technique he'd been working on that he was itching to try. With ample ammunition from the trees, he began his blackout. The slithering lengths of his shadows broadened, flattening into long sheets of darkness, expanding until they met each other where they circled around the Kazekage. In no time at all, the rest of the battlefield was obscured and there existed only Shikamaru and Rasa in a tunnel of blackness together. There was no way the Kazekage could see anything except the iridescent glow of Shikamaru's chakra as it pulsed through his knives.
Normally, when he retracted a shadow, it returned to his feet. But this time, the far ends were anchored securely around the bough of the tree, so when Shikamaru pulled, the ends of his shadows wouldn't come back to him: he would go to them. He was used to rationing his chakra so as to avoid exhaustion, but it didn't matter this time - he would only get one shot at this. Shikamaru focused all of the chakra he had left into the blades he held in his fists. Silently, he thanked Asuma, and thanked his father. He thought of the Leaf Village, the next generations, he thought of Temari. And pulled.
There was nowhere for Rasa to go. Shikamaru was catapulted upwards and hit the Kazekage square in the chest with both of his chakra blades, and his shadows continued to recoil, pulling the pair of them upwards towards where the shadows were wrapped around the tree. Shikamaru could feel himself bruise from the impact but the delicious adrenalin and clarity of combat meant that he was focused not on the pain, but on the sound of Temari's father's breath being beaten out of his lungs by the hit. The trench knives crackled with chakra and Shikamaru could smell cooked meat against blood.
When the pair of them reached the end of the shadows, it was the Kazekage's spine that made contact with the thick bough of the tree. That was all Shikamaru had bet on, and he was surprised to hear the cracking of wood as the their momentum sent them smashing through the tree and further back into the forest. Without his darkness to protect him, he shut his eyes tightly closed against the splintering of wood as they crashed through branches and branches until gravity began to take them and, at last, Rasa's body hit the ground. Shikamaru was above him, his blades still deeply lodged in the Kazekage's chest. Blood gushed from the wounds and over Shikamaru's fists, warm and sticky as mango juice.
The Kazekage was still alive, though beaten from the onslaught. Blood was pooling in his mouth and he coughed and spluttered through it so that it flecked up onto Shikamaru's face. Shikamaru had no more chakra left. His body was empty, drained, only the tiniest flickers of energy still tracing through his blades. But it had been enough. There couldn't possibly be a way the Kazekage could get up from this. Still, the King of the Wind held his killer's gaze, with rage in his eyes. He had just enough golden sand to form a pair of metal blades, and Shikamaru had just enough energy to tuck his head out of the way, so that instead of piercing his eyes, they struck him along the side of his face.
Asuma-sensei had once, over a game of shogi on his engawa on a beautiful evening in the Leaf Village, compared Shikamaru to a knight. Shikamaru didn't feel very much like a knight these days, but as he leaned over Temari's dying father, watching the life drain from Lord Fourth Kazekage's eyes, he remembered that a knight isn't always only a knight. In shogi, if a knight survives entry into the opponent's side of board, it was promoted to a Golden General – the second most powerful piece in the game, behind the King.
Covered in gold and blood, Shikamaru realised that perhaps he hadn't felt very much like a knight recently because that wasn't who he was any more. He was no longer the son who couldn't fill his father's shoes or the student who couldn't save his sensei from death. He was Shikamaru Nara. He was darkness and cunning and flame and ferocity and he was strong enough to protect whichever King – or Queen – he chose to serve.
"There'll be war for this," Rasa spluttered with what was left of his breath.
"Ceàrr a-rithist," he told him. Wrong again.
Shikamaru had no chakra left to use his shadows, but he didn't need them. Rasa seemed so much smaller now than he had done just a few days ago, so much more pathetic. Just some dumb kid who never outgrew fighting over castles made of sand. Perhaps this was a mercy killing - sending a bitter old man to be with his long-dead wife. He thought of the bruises on Temari's backside that she would wear in her soul for as along as she lived, and gripped his hands around Lord Rasa's neck until he felt a snap.
"Shika…" Her voice trembled.
Rasa's body was still warm under Shikamaru's hands but the dead man's eyes stared up blankly at nothing. His face was pale, the blood that had coloured it throughout his life now congealing on the earth below.
Her voice was stronger now, breaking with anger as well as with hurt. "What have you done?"
Slowly, he looked back over one shoulder to acknowledge her presence.
She had followed them between the trees. They weren't deep into the forest but he could hear nothing of the fighting that had been going on just a few short moments ago, nothing but the steady rumble of the river as it flowed nearby but out of sight. The battles had paused in the wake of Shikamaru's actions.
He didn't know what to say. He had just killed her father and he wasn't sorry. There was nothing he could say. Two deep lacerations on his face began to sting. Shakily, he got to his feet and turned to face her, leaving his blades still in the body of the Kazekage on the ground. There was no point in taking them. He had no chakra left anyway.
Kankurou was the first to catch up to Temari, shouting when he saw what had happened. He made a move to run past her, towards what was about to be a pair of corpses, but she lifted her folded tessen to block his way.
Shikamaru couldn't hear her whisper but saw the words on her lips. This one is mine.
He could only wait where he stood as she opened her steel to the full three moons. The edge of it gleamed under the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves - the edge he had seen her decapitate a man with the last time they had been in the Land of Rivers. He let himself be warmed by the memory of being in Ino and Chouji's arms one final time. It looked like he wouldn't be coming home after all.
Temari flew at him.
She was stronger than him, both physically and in chakra reserves, but she was blurry with grief. Nothing but instinct allowed Shikamaru's body to move in ways which deflected her blows, knowing that he was dead if she landed anything. Together they were a storm, his bloodied prison linens offering little protection against her wind, her tessen, her knuckles, as she powered after him through the trees.
"I trusted you, Nara!" she screamed at him.
He slipped away from her again and again as she swung for him, bracing his forearms against her attacks to save himself. Why was he alive? He shouldn't still be alive. He had made his choice, he was ready. She was holding back.
"I will never forgive you for this!" Her words seemed far away - a dream or a memory, buffeted by the pounding of her wind and his own heartbeat in his ears.
He gained a little distance from her, but that was of no benefit with an attack range like hers. She swung her tessen in his direction and it forced him forwards through the trees until his face hit bark. The whole front of his body stung from the impact of the wood and he stumbled, just able to avoid falling to his knees by turning and letting his back rest against the broad trunk of the tree.
She was upon him immediately. Her tessen was on the ground and instead, she held a kunai. They had been here before. One moment, had been falling asleep as he did every night – alone in his quarters of the Nara clan compound. Now, in the blink of an eye, he stood with blood on his hands and a blade against his throat. That night in his home, he had just been a foreign stranger to her, just another target, and she had been nothing but an anonymous enemy behind and ANBU veil. Now, her face was red with anguish, her eyes wet. She had one forearm pushing him back against the tree while her free hand pressed the edge of her kunai hard against his jugular. Her hand was shaking, but she hadn't slit his throat. She should have done, but she hadn't.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't slaughter you right now," she snarled at him. Her face was close to his and he could smell something earthy and botanical over the familiar tang of blood. The wounds on his face bled onto her arm, his blood contaminated with her dead father's gold dust.
"Give me a reason, Shikamaru!"
Of course, there wasn't one. He deserved to die for what he had done, they both knew it. But she was looking for a way out, a reason to let him live. She didn't want him dead, not yet. He had no words for her but watched her grit her teeth and clench her eyes closed, determined not to cry but failing to stop it from happening. Her chest heaved as she pushed him against the tree, not letting up her hold against him.
She was still waiting for an answer but he didn't have one to give.
"He was all I had left," she told him.
Shikamaru would have cocked his head at her questioningly if the edge of her kunai wasn't forcing him to keep his chin exactly where it was. She was wrong. He had seen how many people were on her side, and Rasa hadn't been one of them. She was wrong, she wasn't alone. He never would have left her on her own.
"You just made me an orphan, Shikamaru." There were little trails of clean, golden skin down her face where her tears had cut through the dirt.
"No," he finally found his voice. "I just made you Kazekage."
He watched her expression change as the pieces fell together in her mind. It wasn't a gift; it wasn't what she had wanted. But now, it was an unavoidable truth.
The blade against his throat relaxed. He allowed himself to swallow and stretched his jaw as she stepped back, letting him take his weight back onto his own feet. He couldn't read her face.
Figures were catching up to them now, coming through the trees. Her eyes never strayed from Shikamaru's face but she must have been reading the chakra that approached, knowing exactly what support she had.
"Gaara," she called to her brother.
The young prince in the red robes came forwards. His eyes were dark and he was thinner than he should have been.
Hold him. Non-fatal.
Shikamaru saw Gaara raise a hand in his direction and waited for the jutsu to take him at Temari's command.
Her youngest brother's voice was raspy but filled with power. "Sand Prison."
Sand began to rise around Shikamaru – a prisoner once more. The son of Fire and the daughter of the Wind stood there, eyes only on each other, her shoulders square but her lips quivering. Shikamaru put up no resistance as Gaara's sand slowly rose up to enclose him.
Well, fuck. That did not go to plan at all. By a technicality, Temari had successfully achieved all parts of the mission she had set out to do: Gaara was safe, they were back together. That was what this was all about. But how could she possibly report a successful mission when the person she was supposed to give report to was dead because of her? Her father was right: she had been reckless, she had trusted a Leaf shinobi and a death was the price of her sentimentality. In a moment, everyone important would know and in a couple of days, everyone in the Sand Village would know. Everyone in all the great nations would know that her father was dead because of her failure.
It was too much to think about, too much to focus on. It couldn't be real, it was too much. She was a mess over her father, a mess over Gaara, a mess over Shikamaru. She stared at the wall of sand that had consumed her prisoner until her vision blurred. Temari would not let her emotions rule her. How absurd it was to think she could ever have had feelings for an enemy ninja. How frustrating it was to have resented him so bitterly while in the same moment to have desired him so carnally. She was used to being treated differently for her status – men constantly either trying to beat her or fuck her because she was a Princess. But Shikamaru was different – her status didn't matter to him. In fact, he should have hated her as an enemy ninja, but he had been good to her anyway.
Leaf ninja were supposed to be soft and dishonourable, but Shikamaru had shown her kindness when she had been cruel to him, and tenderness when she had thought there was none left in the world. They had wanted the same things. He had made her feel like she wasn't alone. She had trusted him, let herself open up to him, and now her father was dead because of it. He had wanted to take her away from Rasa, to get her out of her Village, and since she had refused, he had condemned her to being committed to it until the end of her days. In his own stupid way, he had kept his word. She could still taste his warmth on her tongue.
She blinked her eyes clear, the tears that had grown there running down her face. They would be the last tears she would shed today, she promised herself. There was still work to do before she could worry about dealing with these feelings. Now, she just needed to refocus.
Temari took a breath. She turned to Gaara who held a blank expression as he ensured his sand prison was effective. Her Gaara… her youngest brother, her little Prince. Her beloved, troubled little weirdo. She had grown up trying to protect him whilst fearing him, trying to guide him whilst having no clue what she was doing herself. She was just a kid, she hadn't known what to do. They still had a lot of problems, but he was free and they would soon be home. She would have moved the heavens themselves to bring him home.
"Gaara," she spoke his name softly and he looked to her. He was powerful, volatile, hurting. "Please don't crush him."
She watched him look between her and the sand prison which held the Leaf ninja, the murderer she loved. "I know he's just killed our father but I need you not to destroy this man without my say so."
There was never any guarantee that Gaara would obey her wishes. Shikamaru would have to be dealt with for what he had done, but she couldn't stand the idea of having him eliminated. A part of her felt weak for crying over him. A part of her knew that love was the only thing that could ever make anyone truly strong. But Gaara didn't know this man, he was just another Leaf ninja to him, just another enemy. All it would take would be a flick of his wrist for him to override her instruction and destroy him. He looked between the two of them as though he were considering doing just that.
And then back through the forest to where their dead father lay with Shikamaru's blades still lodged in his chest.
"If he hadn't done it," Gaara told her, "I would have."
Oh, Gaara. She would never let anything take him away from her again. His sand flinched as she hugged him. There had been a time when they were young and it wouldn't let her touch him at all. They had outgrown that distrust now but being taken had clearly allowed some of the fear inside him to regrow. She squeezed him in her arms, holding him until he squirmed.
"I'm never letting you go ever again," she told him.
"Please, let me go."
He was using his manners. He was so grown up.
She refused until he hugged her back. They only parted when Kankurou found them. He didn't seem to know which one of them to go to first. He narrowed his eyes slightly at his sister, questioning her state. She gave him a little nod, and he let his shoulders relax, accepting that she was okay and that he could focus on Gaara instead, who was swiftly subjected to another hug.
"Good to have you back, kid," he said to the young man who was only a few years younger than himself. "I hope those Leafy bastards weren't too bad to you."
"One of them protected me." His words were muffled slightly against Kankurou's shoulder.
"Really?"
"Yes. The blonde one. He stopped them from fisting me."
Kankurou pulled away from the embrace. "From what?"
"They wanted to fist me in the face. Give me a bloody nose and a black eye."
Poor Gaara didn't get out as much as his siblings when they were growing up. He was so close to being fluent in the Common Tongue.
"Punch," Kankurou sighed. "The word is punch."
"Yes. But the Uzumaki… he wouldn't let them. He taught me how to give them all a good fingering." Gaara flipped his middle finger in Kankurou's general direction to illustrate his point.
"Gaara," Kankurou embraced his brother again. "I'm glad you're safe but I really need you to stop talking."
Temari was so wrapped up in the beauty of seeing her brothers finally back together that she almost didn't notice the rest of the Sand ninja slowly, respectfully, coming through the forest to be with them. Rasa's body lay back the way they had come, just out of sight, between where they were in the forest and where the Leaf ninja waited by the river. Someone would be cleaning him up, performing the ritual. She was glad she wouldn't be expected to do it herself. She grieved for him – he was her father, after all, and they had loved each other once - but their relationship had been... complicated. She might not have been able to control herself from beating what was left of him into the dirt.
A final figure came forward through the trees and approached the siblings. It was Baki. He was holding the bloodied Kage hat in his hands. Temari thought he'd be furious with her, but he was smiling in a way that might have been as close as he ever got to a warm expression.
"Is that him?" He nodded towards the sand prison.
"I didn't know, Baki," Temari pleaded with him. "I didn't know. I'd never betray the Sand, you know that. I didn't plan any of this."
"Didn't plan what?" he said. "Successfully negotiating the release of our beloved second Prince? Rasa losing his life was a tragic accident – he gave up his life to protect us all. We're just lucky you were here to avenge him so swiftly, we all saw it." He spoke the last part loudly. Behind him, Shigazane was nodding, Hakuto under his arm.
"We all saw it," he agreed.
Isago caught on, too. "We all saw it."
That was the story they would stick to. Temari looked at the ground, humbled. Those close to her trusted she would never have betrayed the Sand, and they were going to make sure that there was no question of that amongst the civilians either.
"You should take this, Lady Fifth."
Her sensei held out the Kazekage hat to her, still dripping with her father's blood.
"I'm not named yet," she protested. "The Elders might not name me."
"They will," Baki spoke assuredly. "I've been working on them for a while."
Her sensei was, first and foremost, loyal to the Kazekage. She was exhausted on every possible level but he would continue to hold her up, just as he had aspired to do all her life. She took the hat from him. It didn't feel like it belonged to her, and didn't feel right to wear it. A part of her wanted to rip it to shreds for all it symbolised but she held it in her hands, running her fingers over the embroidery, feeling the weight of it.
When she looked up, Baki had taken a knee in front of her. He began to sing Gold in the Blood, the song of the Kage. Except now… it wasn't about the Lord Kazekage, but the Lady Kazekage. Shigazane took a knee behind him and joined in, and Hakuto, and Isago. Shivers ran up her spine as she listened to her favourite voices singing that well known melody, with brand new verses. She looked across to her brothers where Gaara was watching the spectacle, his expression hard to read, but Kankurou's eyes were fixed on her. He looked proud. It was weird.
They would have to go back to the bridge, all of them. The battlefield had been holding its breath, waiting, and all eyes would be on her when they stepped back out of the woods. The Leaf shinobi wanted her dead for her actions and now the Kazekage was gone, the Sand were in a uniquely vulnerable position. She would have to play this carefully, she would have to be strong.
The song wound down and the ninja got to their feet again. Baki came forward and placed both of his hands on her shoulders.
"You're ready," he told her. If it had been a question, she would have told him that she was certainly not, in fact, ready. But she had him on her side, and both of her brothers, and a decent selection of the most skilled and devoted ninja she had ever known. And, perhaps, an ally in the Leaf. "Now what to you say we go and do what we came here to do? Our Prince is coming home. We should give theirs back to them, too."
It surprised her that even Baki agreed that Shikamaru might not need to be killed. She wondered if that was his own preference, or if it was for her sake. Surely, if anyone had picked up on her fondness for him, it was Baki.
"They wanted a massacre today," she spoke lowly, keeping her voice as steady as she could.
"Yes," he admitted. "And they didn't get one. Thanks to you ally here."
Her eyes prickled again, but she wouldn't let tears fall. There was too much to do, too many troubles to fix. "They think my infiltration of their security to take him was an act of war."
"One shinobi's act of war is another's act of love. The Hokage will understand that. The ferocity of the Sand does not come from hatred of the Leaf." Baki looked back over his shoulder towards where the previous Kage lay dead, before turning back to Temari. "Not anymore."
Temari strapped her tessen to her back and came out of the woods.
The Leaf ninja were waiting, retreated to their own side of the river again now. As Temari approached the bridge for the second time that day, she was flanked by her brothers and the floating sand prison containing the Hokage's advisor, as well as the rest of her party observing from a little way behind. The people were silent, but the air was loud with the flow of the river and the wind in the tree canopies and birdsong.
The Hokage Lady Tsunade, the woman who had tried to take out Temari and instigate a massacre between the nations, the woman whose plan had been foiled by her own trusted advisor, came forward towards the bridge. A masked man with silver hair tried to follow her but she waved him back. She was fair-haired and looking younger than Temari knew she really was. She was a leader, her voice and presence firm like Temari's father's had been, except this woman's heart was not truly that of a warrior - it was that of a healer. The counterparts stood facing each other. The Queen of Fire and the Queen of the Wind. Temari was a Queen now. She knew what to do.
So, holding the Kazekage hat soaked with her father's blood in one hand, and her youngest brother's hand with the other, she addressed the Hokage.
"Lady Tsunade," Temari said, loud enough for both of their parties to hear. "Do you have any little brothers?"
Author's note:
Sorry this took so long - I got lost on the path of life.
The next chapter will be the final installment of Of Sand and Shadow. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.
Cinder x