Like two peas in a pod

Asuma licked his thumb, a splinter had sunk in the skin of his pad and he was complaining about it with overly exaggerated grunts that danced in between them, Shikamaru watched the mighty leader of Team 10 and prideful jönin totter from one foot to the other without much amusement.

The spectacle did, however, distract him enough from the figure lingering in his peripheral vision, and he hung whatever attention that remained on him onto the only age-wise adult between them.

Chöji was at his side as well, and when watching Asuma's movements became too shameful, Shikamaru turned to look at his friend. Chöji smiled and arched an eyebrow –he was finding his teacher's predicament funny, worthy of a chuckle. Shikamaru wondered if Asuma was being silly on purpose; the man had lost both his father and –consequentially, his leader, and had been sent away almost immediately after to secure some income for the village; this was the first reunion of his squad in almost two months.

The Hokage's seat was still unoccupied, Shikaku looked restless with the number of reunions he had to attend as the Jönin Commander: The negotiations with Sand were difficult, Orochimaru's origins and Hiruzen's responsibility in letting him escape the first time practically threw away whatever weight Konoha might have had in order to obtain any resources from Wind's village.

'Your own man killed our leader, impersonated him, and then forced us to invade, we are not to blame.'

Suna had lost the battle and was particularly weak, but Konoha had many more enemies, and if they didn't settle this conflict quickly, someone else could insert themselves in the matter, aiding Sunagakure in exchange for Konoha's destruction.

Shikamaru hadn't been to any of those meetings, of course, but he could imagine every argument and each reasoning presented. Shikaku confided nothing in him, but the stress he carried on his shoulders whenever he passed his home's threshold allowed him such deductions.

As for a successor, there had not been a pronunciation yet, Shikaku only assured him that they were working on it and what's gotten into you with this sudden interest? And that was it.

With his mind elsewhere, Shikamaru barely watched her move, she was a melting figure against the background, a moving spot of purple outfit and cream-colored arm warmers, he swallowed the discomfort that his previous discovery brought –she wasn't to blame exactly, but he wasn't kind enough to let her off the hook either. They hadn't talked yet, acknowledging each other with subtle nods.

He glanced up, another gray sky –Shikamaru hated it when the weather behaved like this, stubbornly keeping him away from his cloud gazing, grass too cold to rest his back on. "I wanted to see you," Asuma finally stopped fidgeting and Shikamaru returned his eyes to his teacher. "It has been a long while since we saw each other and last time… it wasn't the best." The man looked at Ino and pursed his lips, eyelids almost completely closed, he didn't have a cigarette on his lips, and therefore, there was no smoke to disguise the significance of the motion for something else: it was sorrow.

He allowed himself to watch her then, it would be strange not to do so when she was the topic of conversation but also Shikamaru refused to become a coward, refused to allow her such power over him. So he looked, and his stomach pulled, twisted, did something against his will that he had never experienced before. He furrowed his eyebrows when she merely blinked at his teacher's unspoken admission, "I survived." She shrugged, like she had actually come out unscathed.

Barely, he had wanted to reply, but then her eyes found him –she had seen him gazing up to her from her window, and with the remembrance so fresh in his mind he was solely unable to swallow, his throat felt like sandpaper.

And yet, no, fuck that, Shikamaru rejected the idea of being defined by her or whatever new appreciation she inspired, and while he was smart enough to see the irony –his distaste for her had also been a determinant in the construction of his character, he wasn't about to yield to the treacherous part of him that suddenly wanted to hold her.

"As I said, I just wanted to see you guys," Asuma said, "as you know, training has been canceled, for now, most of chünin and jönin have to move in order to fulfill missions, and gënin can't actually leave the village without supervision from a superior."

Chöji nodded and smiled kindly, "I'm glad to see you Asuma-sensei," pink color painted his cheeks, his hands were gently pulling his shirt down, he was happy –what for, Shikamaru wasn't sure, but he suspected the reasons.

Asuma's face softened and his lips stretched, his eyes wrinkling at the side by the warmth that spread in his expression, "yeah, me too." He chuckled, cocking his head to the side and stretching his hand to pinch Chöji's cheek playfully.

They talked, jumping around unimportant topics with the grace that only people raised with the knowledge of tragedies were able to achieve. In between soft chuckles and decently faked smiles they moved around the field to sit on the grass or nearby fallen trunks (had they fell naturally or as a consequence of the battle?), they joked –or rather, Asuma and Chöji did as if they weren't four people merely pretending to be at ease. As if they didn't know that everything had changed because they still needed to pretend it hadn't, for their fathers' sake, for Konoha's safety and their own comfort.

And Shikamaru thought he and Ino were the most obvious changes, but Chöji's knuckles were scarred, his usually clean bandages were stained with dried blood –how many times had he changed them before growing tired of repeating the same process and seemingly decided it wasn't worth it anymore? And he was trying, he was louder than he usually was, he was smiling harder –as if to compensate for both his teammates, no bag of chips was near him, his hands picking through the grass underneath while talking like a nervous gesture. His small eyes danced in between Ino and Asuma as if expecting them to suddenly disappear, his shoulders tensed like ready to jump and reach for them should that happen, and Shikamaru thought –not for the first time, that Chöji was the only thing holding this team together because, despite Asuma's best efforts, it was Chöji's kindness that forced him and Ino to interact.

There was a sigh then, and Asuma stood from his seat next to Ino, glancing up at the sky like the pass of time personally offended him, "I should go," he said, his voice low, "I have a mission soon, and I should- there's something I-"

"Oh," Ino's tone seemed to reach a tease, tilting her face sideways and a smirk stretching her lips, her hair fell towards her shoulder and Shikamaru blinked hard to stop noticing how soft it looked. "Is that something actually someone?"

Asuma, surprisingly, blushed and scratched his beard roughly, "n-no, I mean…" he mumbled, "I- I can't, the clan needs a new leader, and… well it's not the best of times and…"

"Ah…" Ino blinked, her mocking tone completely dropped, "I'm sure it'll work out if you want it to… eventually."

"Yes well," Asuma stopped scratching and reached for a cigarette, putting it in between his lips and playing with the lighter's cap, the sound filled the space in between phrases, "it's complicated. Sometimes wanting is not enough."

He closed the cap with sudden force, and after the last click, the silence took over all four of them, three gënins threw concerned looks at their teacher, who twisted his mouth and refused to look at any of his students –in the distance, leaves fell from their branches to the ground with a soft murmur and cicadas singed from their hideouts in the abundant grasslands.

"Sorry, I made it weird." Asuma chuckled, finally lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag out of it.

Shikamaru wasn't an expert in human emotions –hell, he was having trouble coming to terms with his own, and little did he know about Asuma's personal life or how his clan even worked, but it couldn't be as different as his own clan. After all, the Ino-Shika-Chö alliance was under the wing of his teacher's clan, has always been, and if Asuma became the new leader… Shikamaru could imagine the pressure he was under. "He was your dad," he blurted, and slapped his mouth, shocked.

Asuma looked up at him, he even noticed the way Ino tensed and Chöji's mouth became a thin line, silence returned and an unsettling feeling overtook Shikamaru's stomach. "Yes…" Asuma whispered, taking the cigarette from his lips and looking at it, his expression twisted from disgust to anger to something very much like mourn. "I'm just… tired."

"Asuma-sensei," Chöji said then, noticing Asuma's slumped shoulders, "you deserve to rest… and a nice bath, and something pretty. They should allow you some free time-"

"And if she –I mean, that someone, makes you happy, then they should-" Ino added, her legs tensing as if to jump up.

Asuma's eyes became big –huge, looking at the three of them as if he was seeing them for the first time, his mouth twisted in discomfort and his fingers pinched the cigarette to almost complete destruction, "wait –stop, don't say those things. I shouldn't have even mentioned-"

He probably shouldn't have, Shikamaru agreed, it was something too personal from a superior to share with his subordinates, and it wouldn't have happened hadn't been for everything they went through. Grief, stress, concern; too many emotions were probably clouding Asuma's judgment to act according to his position.

"Drop it, sensei," Shikamaru said, standing when noticing their leader's anxiety. "You're next in line to inherit the Sarutobi's leadership, no?" Asuma winced as if physically hurt –at least, Shikamaru could understand his apprehension for the responsibility that was forced on him. "Tell your elders that the three future heirs of the Ino-Shika-Chö clans want them to back off and allow you to be with whoever you want."

Asuma blinked, swallowed, and, just as suddenly, laughed. It was as if he hadn't laughed in a long, long time –he probably hasn't even smiled until this very moment, so he laughed –howled really, paused to cough the last bit of smoke that he had been keeping in his throat, and laughed again. Shikamaru should be offended, Asuma wasn't even bothering to hide what he thought of his idea, but he couldn't make himself annoyed with the man, although he felt somewhat ashamed.

"Make it actual leaders, as well, we'll tell our fathers to back you up," Ino added in between Asuma's coughs to regain some oxygen, nodding towards Shikamaru in acknowledgment of his plan. Asuma choked then, the laughter dying with Ino's addition, he glanced at Chöji –perhaps looking for any sign of them pranking him, but Chöji (who was still picking grass threads nervously), blinked at him and smiled. It wasn't a funny smile, but a reassuring one and Asuma's jaw dropped.

"Kids –don't, you-"

"Actual leaders and future ones," Ino lifted a finger and narrowed her eyes, and added no more to their conversation. Silence settled a third time, but it was almost relaxed –if it wasn't for Asuma's visible stress.

"Ah –well –you," he tried to speak, glancing at the members of his team without being able to utter any coherent phrase. "I should –I mean-"

"You have a mission, right?" Chöji mentioned, his small smile growing wider, palms on his cheeks and elbows relaxed over his legs, his fingers were stained with a greenish color and a small blush covered his cheeks.

"Yes!" Asuma's tone of voice was particularly high when replying, but none of them was deep enough in the teasing to point it out. "I –kids, I…" he paused and bit his upper lip, "when I come back… let's, let's hang out, barbeque as usual alright? My treat."

"Of course," Chöji shrugged, "we were counting on it already."

Asuma blinked, mumbled something Shikamaru couldn't quite catch and left with hurried steps, Shikamaru thought that he could hear a burst of faint laughter in the distance. He hoped it was Asuma's.

When Ino finally stood to leave, Shikamaru tensed, a sudden movement his body made at the realization of her departure. There was no reason for it, Asuma had left and, obviously, Ino was about to follow his example, their meeting had clearly reached its end. The teasing smirk that appeared on her lips at their teacher's expense slowly receded, leaving a hollow expression in her face so similar to the one he witnessed through her window that he was thrown back to the moment –to the exact moment when watching her go forced him to realize...

"Wait, Ino-" Chöji stood, and walked towards her, his hand closing on the fabric of her arm warmer, she paused and watched Chöji's fingers pinching her clothes, glancing at him from behind her long lashes. "I just wanted to say… I'm glad you're okay. We were so worried about you."

Ino raised an eyebrow and a faint blush caressed the tip of her nose, it was difficult to just brush off Chöji's words, not when his tone of voice was so sincere, she pursed her lips and glanced elsewhere, "yeah, I… I'm fine."

"Really?" Chöji asked, "if you ever… well, if you need something-" he paused, his voice dropping, "dad told me about… you know."

Shikamaru swallowed, uncomfortable, his dad had told him –hinted really, Ino's experience during the invasion. It wasn't enough for her to almost dying, no, she had killed –she had been the first one of them to do so, Shikamaru always thought it would be him the first one to succumb to shinobi's nature; had he possessed enough chakra, he would have tried to give a killing blow. Instead, he witnessed Asuma's ferocity when slashing the throats of their enemies, was it that different to watch –unfazed, a killing spree than carrying it out himself?

"How…" he swallowed, pinching his thighs when Ino's eyes fell on him, "how does it feel?" He bit with his molars when there was a pause, the lack of immediate response made the unsettling feeling return to his stomach, Chöji looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

"Easy," she finally answered, Chöji's hands seemed to hold her clothes tighter, "surprisingly easy." Ino blinked, looked suddenly guilty, and dropped her gaze towards Chöji's hand.

"Killing is…" he said and, again, her eyes picked through her lashes to watch him, Shikamaru forced himself to put past his discomfort, "bound to happen."

"Bound to happen…" Ino whispered, but commented no further, and when her eyes finally moved to look around the field, Shikamaru relaxed.

"Whatever you need," Chöji said again, apparently unable to let her go just yet, "just tell us, okay? We are a team, right?"

Ino twisted her mouth, and spared no glance towards him, moving her head as to escape both their stares, "right." She said, then again, "right." With a little more conviction.

Chöji let go of her clothes and took a step back, "let's see each other soon, even without Asuma-sensei, can we? Ino-Shika-Chö and all…" he asked, "please?"

"I…" Ino started, then finally glanced at Shikamaru for a moment, before resting her eyes in Chöji once more, "soon." She nodded, and when Chöji smiled, she faintly, tentatively, smiled back.

Shikaku stepped in with heavy feet, the sun had settled, and it was late enough to question Shikamaru's reason to stay awake, much more after his mother herself had gone to bed already, but Shikaku had never been the best person to set an example on how-to-parenthood, so he merely showed his disapproval with a raised eyebrow.

The room would have been completely dark hadn't been for the candle illuminating Shikamaru's face, an open book rested over his chest, abandoned in favor of receiving his father once the sound of his arrival disrupted the peace in the house. Shikaku went past him, Shikamaru knew better than to follow, and after a moment he returned, holding an empty glass and a bottle of liquor Shikamaru had seen in his office before.

"Mom will kill you if she knows you've been drinking with an empty stomach." He mentioned, sitting a little straighter and lowering his feet from the couch to give his father some room to sit.

"Yeah, well," Shikaku shrugged, "that's why she won't know -like she won't know that someone rested their filthy sandals on the clean sofa."

"Point taken," Shikamaru conceded, watching his father's hands opening the bottle and pouring the liquor inside the glass, his brown skin illuminated by the orange light, he looked at his own hands then, they were so alike, albeit younger and with fewer scars, but the shape were the same, the color identical.

"How's the team?" He asked, taking a long gulp of the coppery-colored liquid, grunting once the drink went through his throat, his tongue licking his upper lip.

"You don't seem to like it," Shikamaru wondered, "so why do you drink it?" He cocked his head to the side, thrumming his fingers on the book's cover.

"One doesn't always like what they crave for." Shikaku shrugged, pouring another glass, the sound interrupting Shikamaru's thrumming, "answer the question, Shikamaru."

He sighed, pausing the incessant movement of his fingers when noticing the way his father was looking at his hands, "they're fine –I guess, not… fine-fine, but…"

"Surviving," Shikaku supplied, drinking a small sip, half his face was swallowed by darkness and harsh shadows clung to his brow.

"Asuma seems distressed-" he added, "-he's going to take over the Sarutobi clan, isn't he?"

Shikaku looked exhausted, he rested the glass on his forehead and leaned back into the couch, "yeah, until his nephew is ready." Shikaku glanced at him, Shikamaru raised an eyebrow and his father rolled his eyes, "Asuma isn't the rightful heir, his older sister was. She died, and after Hiruzen's own death, Asuma is to take over the position until his nephew is deemed worthy."

"I…" Shikamaru paused, "I didn't know Asuma had a sister."

"Don't see why you should," Shikaku dismissed, pressing his lips on the rim of the glass and taking a small sip again, "don't worry about him, he'll be able to handle it."

"They won't let him date who he wants-" Shikamaru pressed, his hands closed tightly in the book, it made a resistance sound that they both ignored, and Shikamaru watched his father exhale forcefully, sinking even lower in the couch.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Shikaku mumbled, his tone dismissive again, and drank what remained of the liquor, he exhaled harshly once more, and his eyes closed slowly, shoulders relaxing.

"What's that supposed-" he stopped, Shikamaru knew perfectly what he meant by that, "we promised him we'll help him." He left the book in the cushion next to him and crossed his arms, a frown reaching his eyebrows when noticing his father's lack of proper reaction.

Shikaku didn't dignify his statement, his eyes remained closed and a small chuckle went past his cracked lips, "of course you did," his voice was low –sleep was taking him over, and Shikamaru felt a sudden spike of resentfulness.

"We promised him-" he repeated, raising slightly his tone of voice to force his father's attention towards him, "-that he'll have our support… and yours." He swallowed, "actual clan heads and future ones."

At that, Shikaku's eyes opened, slowly enough to make Shikamaru feel somewhat ashamed with his childish demeanor, but he couldn't help to try to force his reasoning when confronted with mere dismissals, "it's not up to us to force the Sarutobi elders to-"

"We are not forcing-"

"You child," Shikaku didn't raise his voice, but he pinched the bridge of his nose, "we can't interfere in their affairs."

"Oh, but they can interfere with ours?" He snorted, and Shikaku bolted, sitting straight suddenly, he moved so fast Shikamaru didn't feel the hand against his mouth until his father spoke again and he found himself unable to breathe properly, his nails dug into Shikamaru's skin hard enough to make him wince.

"Shut up, boy." His father warned, and then looked upwards, to the sides, to the floor in frenetic movements; at last, his eyes settled in the curtains covering the street window, and they stayed there for a very long time, following every shadow that moved. After a while, the pressure in his jaw lessened, the hand that forced his mouth to close relaxed and was dropped to the side, Shikamaru quickly brought his own hands to his face to caress the soreness. "I'll see what I can do," he said, looking somewhat apologetic, "I'm sure that if you're asking me to do this, you'll have good reasons to –you're not the type to ask these kinds of things just because."

It wasn't an apology, not exactly, but it was the closest he'll ever get, Shikaku will never pronounce the actual words to him, not now and not ever. His father crouched and stretched his arm, Shikamaru saw him grabbing the glass that had –apparently and without him noticing nor hearing the sound, fallen from his grasp.

Shikamaru didn't reply, he swallowed and looked at his father with his eyes narrowed, but didn't bring up what had happened, Shikaku's gaze was anywhere but his son, he sighed once more, resting his elbows on his knees, and grabbed the bottle. He looked at it as if deciding to drink another glass and, after a moment, he brought the tip of the bottle to his lips and took another sip. "How's Ino?" He asked, still looking at the bottle, his head bowed.

Shikamaru pursed his lips, unsure on how to –or even if to, reply, "hadn't you talked to her father?" He asked, moving slowly to the end of the couch.

Shikaku might have noticed his son moving away from him, but said nothing on the matter, "no, he-" he sighed, "-he's away on a mission, I haven't seen him in a while," his shoulders –if possible, seemed to drop even further down, he took another sip from the bottle. "Did you see her? How is she?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Shikamaru dropped his hands from his face and scowled, glancing away from his father and facing the candle, he was thankful for the low lighting.

"Watch the tone, Shikamaru," his father chastised, but his voice was calm, almost resigned, "just answer the question."

Shikamaru bit his lips and rolled his eyes, he forced himself to focus on the small flame, he watched it move, saw the thin line of black smoke dancing up and away, blinked when some of it went inside his eyelids. "She is…" he cocked his head to the side and sighed, the flame responded to the sudden air rush with a violent jerk, "she is…"

"Shikamaru," Shikaku said and he was thrown out of his reverie, he turned his head to face his father and saw the way he contemplated him with his eyes narrowed, mouth stretched in a thin line. "Don't do it, son."

He blinked, felt his jaw relax in wonder, "don't do what?" He asked, unable to understand the reasoning behind his father's warning.

"Just…" Shikaku started, then pursed his lips and glanced at the window again, "I thought your pride will spare you, I thought you wouldn't-" he gritted his teeth, "Spirits, Shikamaru, isn't it hilarious?" He scoffed, "like father, like fucking son…"

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

Shikaku grunted, took another sip of the bottle, and shook his head, "nothing." He said, exhaling whatever speech he had left, "go to sleep, your mother will kill me if she finds out I allowed you to stay until so late."

"But dad-"

"Don't, Shikamaru," he sighed, "just don't. Do as I say."

Shikamaru knew better than to argue, by now, his father was drunk enough not to measure the consequences of his actions should Shikamaru say the wrong thing. His father wasn't particularly violent, but today he had already threatened to cross that line and the more alcohol was poured inside his system the less effective will be his self-control.

He walked towards his room with slow steps, he was able to hear the swing of the bottle –his father wasn't planning to stop drinking, it seemed, and just when he reached the top of the stairs, there was a grunt and the sound of glass shattering.

He paused, alarmed, wondering if he should go back down to help, but when he started to turn, he heard the swing of the bottle once more and then, "not my boy," followed by a faint whimper, "not my boy."

A/N: The interlude to mark the transition in between the first part and the second has already been written, alongside the first chapter of Part Two! I'm so excited!