Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. However, the OCs do belong to me.

Part 1: Nara Shikari

"My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm."

Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Dinner time, suffice to say, was tense.

Shikamaru's new mother was seated in the middle of the table, farthest from the entrance, as the most honored person. Shikamaru himself was seated near the entrance, as the least important person. Even during the most mediocre activity the woman never ceased to send a jab towards his person. Not that it offended him, it was rather amusing to watch her try so hard to make him feel unwanted.

Shikamaru quietly munched the rice in his mouth whilst discreetly glancing at the blond man who was seated somewhere between him and the bitch queen. The man looked tired; understandably, since he had only returned from his mission a few hours ago. However, that was not the thing that piqued his interest.

Shikamaru watched with aberrant – almost cruel – delight as the man gathered his wits and moved the gears in his brain, trying to say something but always holding his tongue when his wife's eyes swiveled onto his direction.

The man reminded Shikamaru of young Chōji, shy and afraid to utter his mind, afraid of chastisement and judgment from his peers. The only difference was the fact that the man was afraid of his own wife.

During the Warring State period, Akimichi Clan, Nara Clan, and Yamanaka Clan lived together as allies. They used their respective strengths to complement each other's weaknesses. That was how they survived from clans with a strong military front, such as the Uchiha and the Senju. More often than not, the members of these three clans would have intermarriage with the other clans' members to strengthen their ties, for example Shikamaru's new mother and father.

Unfortunately, their arranged marriage was not a healthy or a working one, let alone a happy one. The man had a low self-esteem, whilst the woman was volatile and conceited. One did not have to be a genius to figure out how an argument between the two of them would end. They did not make a good match, but their parents did not care. It was for a political gain after all, they needed to uphold their families' power within their respective clan. How society judged a relationship was also not helping the man either, as the man was expected to 'man up' and deal with his own wife. However, the way Shikamaru saw it, abusive relationships were abusive, regardless of the gender. Thus, Shikamaru decided to cut the man some slack and help him.

"How's your mission father?"

The man smiled at him like he was the long awaited salvation that he had been waiting for all of his life. Shikamaru felt awful for inwardly laughing at him before.

"It went well, thank you for asking. There are no casualties from our side and the mission is a success."

"Good." Shikamaru nodded his head.

"Yes, good," the man mumbled.

Shikamaru was not expecting the man to come home tonight; however, his appearance had given Shikamaru a sudden idea that could either result in utter disaster or give him an advantage that would be useful for him in the long run.

What to do? What to choose?

Shikamaru made up his mind in a split-second and decided to carry out his plan. It was a good opportunity to test the man's boundary – a social study of sorts.

"Father?" he called.

The man glanced up. "Yes?"

"Do you, by any chance, want to say something to mother?"

The man seemed to freeze whilst his spouse perked up at the mention of her title.

"N-no," he stammered.

Shikamaru frowned. From his peripheral vision he could see how the woman raised her chin in mockery towards her husband.

That would not do. Shikamaru had to give the man more incentive.

Shikamaru snarled inside the man's mind, "Are you kidding me?! How long are you going to be her plaything? You hate her! I hate her! Stand up for yourself! If not for your sake, then do it for mine!"

The man's eyes widened, but he quickly recovered and kept his cool. The only sign of his distress was the slight clenching of his fist around his chopsticks.

"You can use Yamanaka Clan telepathy?"

"I'm speaking to you, aren't I?" Shikamaru deadpanned.

"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question." The man sounded so dejected that Shikamaru felt like he was kicking a puppy.

Troublesome. Too much, then.

"No, I am sorry. I was insensitive and rude. But you need to stop blaming yourself for everything." Shikamaru inwardly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Despite the horrible things mother said to you – which are completely wrong in my opinion – you are a good father. So don't you ever forget that."

The man was silent after that. Shikamaru gave him some space and continued to eat his food as if nothing had happened, lest bitch queen began to suspect something. He was not in the mood to deal with her tirade and he did not want to accidentally snap her neck in two.

Shikamaru was halfway done with his food when the man began to speak inside his mind again.

"Shikari?"

"Yes?" he responded after a slight hesitation. Sometimes he forgot the new name that was given to him.

"Is the bruise on your cheek…?" the man trailed off, unsure how to word his question.

"Yes." Yes, it was from my mother.

"Oh."

".…"

"I'm so–"

Shikamaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. "Stop apologizing. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," the man insisted, firmer for the first time since Shikamaru could remember. "I'm too afraid to stand up to her and now you receive the brunt from my lack of action. I am sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it," he assured.

That answer was like a slap on the man's face, just like how Shikamaru intended it to be.

The man faltered for a second, his chopsticks almost fell from his grip. When his wife's sharp eyes turned to his direction, he immediately composed himself and resumed to eat.

"Shikari?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you... for what you have said earlier. It means a lot."

"It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing!" Shikamaru pretended to wince at the harsh tone. The man's tone turned apologetic afterwards. "It's just that… My father used to belittle me when I was a child and my… my mother," he spat out the word, "she only watched him. She never defended me, not even once. And just like her, I never interfere with your mother," he finished bitterly.

Shikamaru hoisted more rice into his chopsticks, attentively listening to the man's explanation whilst keeping an eye on the woman in front of him. She was watching him too.

"As pathetic as it sounds, you, my daughter, are the first person who ever encourages me to fight back."

Shikamaru glanced at the subtle shift in the man's posture. It was as if a new resolve had taken over him.

"I won't let her touch you again, ever. I will make sure that you have a better – happier – life than me. You'll have a bright future ahead of you, I swear it."

How touching. Shikamaru would have believed him had he not experienced first-hand just how dark and disappointing life could have become.

"Thank you," he replied nonetheless.

"No. Thank you."

Etsuko Nara sat inside her bedroom, a simple room with one futon, a small dresser and a low table. On top of the small table was candlelight to accompany her in the darkness. Once in a while she would glance at the translucent shoji door that overlooked her courtyard, checking if the person she was waiting for had finally arrived.

Yesterday, one week after the family dinner that had left her feeling unsettled, Etsuko had received a letter from her former friend, Hotaru, who requested for an audience with her. She said that it was an important matter.

Etsuko, of course, only felt indignation at the other woman's audacity to want to meet her when she had all but abandoned Etsuko after her marriage. Although Etsuko would not admit it, Hotaru was the only one who knew the woman behind the polite façade she wore. Hotaru was the only one who accepted her as she was and the only one who would stay beside her even after Etsuko had cursed her to the deepest pit of hell when she lost herself to her anger.

However, after her marriage, the woman had simply cut all contacts with her and pretended as if their friendship never existed, as if they were strangers. Their interactions became strictly professional and business-like, as if they had not known each other for more than a decade. Etsuko would not admit it to anyone, but the treatment hurt. It hurt more than anything.

Etsuko could lament however she wanted to about how Hotaru would be nothing without her, how if Etsuko did not take a pity on the girl and plead for her father to spare her, Hotaru would be killed or be sold as a slave, but it would never change the fact that Hotaru's abandonment had made Etsuko felt truly alone. Her mother and her brothers were gone, they were all dead. Hotaru was the only one that she had left, but the woman had left her too.

It's for your own good, she said.

Etsuko knew it was bullshit.

She just has had enough of you, the voice inside her head supplied. It would not be strange, considering the fact that her own family hated her, not that she cared much.

Etsuko was aware of the fact that her good-for-nothing husband despised her (even though he was too scared to say it); he had been since their uneventful arranged marriage where he was forced to take her last name. Even though her family was not all that influential within her clan, the man was just a mere bastard – sure, a Yamanaka's clan head's bastard, but abastard nonetheless – and she was way better than what he actually deserved. It aggravated her that she was being wedded to someone who was born out of wedlock, but at least now she could use the inheritance her father – who fortunately had been killed in his mission six months ago – had left her.

That coward always let her get away with her whims, be it humiliating him, putting him down, criticizing him, using their money however she wanted – even though he was the one who was supposed to control them since he was technically the adopted heir of her family – or treating his daughter like a servant.

The latest was her favorite pastime activity.

Etsuko remembered how her own mother had explained to her – how her warm brown eyes were directed at her – that a mother's duty was to love their children, no matter what. Her own mother's marriage was arranged, but she loved her children anyway.

However, Etsuko could not love this child. She could not and would not love the one who had taken her real baby girl away, ever.

Etsuko knew that something was wrong with the baby the moment she felt the baby's chakra after she birthed it. Etsuko was no shinobi, but she could feel its chakra with extreme clarity – not that she ever told anyone – and that thing had an uncontrollable chakra of a grown man, full of anger and volatile, like an evil spirit.

For months Etsuko had tried to convince herself that there was nothing wrong with the baby, that she was only hallucinating and that soon everything would be back to normal. However, no matter how much she tried to drown herself in denial, her instinct kept screaming at her that the thing that she called her daughter was not her baby.

Etsuko trusted her instincts, they never lied.

Her suspicion was confirmed during one evening when her husband was on a mission. The rain was pouring heavily outside, it looked like it would evolve into a thunderstorm. When Etsuko heard her baby crying, she had thought that the eight months old was afraid of the storm, thus she immediately headed to the nursery to comfort her. What she saw was the opposite.

Etsuko saw what was supposed to be her baby crying whilst laughing like a maniac, her chakra lashed out at her surrounding, making the nursery look like it had been hit by a typhoon. Shards of glass were embedded in the walls, and blood pooled at the futon from where the girl had cut herself. Thinking quickly, Etsuko simply grabbed scissors, a bandage, an alcohol, and a water-filled basin. She put the items near the door and let the thing dress its wound itself.

With the revelation, Etsuko felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She did not know and did not care what it was, be it evil spirit, demon, or yōkai – perhaps even a birth monster. Etsuko simply stopped caring about the thing entirely.

Since that incident the thing pretended as if nothing had happened. It behaved like a normal human being, like the child its appearance suggested. Although the thing had not made an attempt against her life, yet, Etsuko never let her guard down, and she would be lying if she said that she had not considered various plans to kill it.

Etsuko herself even began to dare to test her boundary, to see how far it would stand her action. It accepted her insults and harsh words, it was willing to do the chores she assigned to it, and it took her abuse and seemed not to care about what Etsuko did to it. If it was its plan to lull her into a false sense of security, it almost succeeded, but Etsuko would never believe its act.

Etsuko also found a peculiar fact about the thing. It hated mirrors, or any kind of reflective surface which showed it her baby girl's face. The thing especially loathed her when Etsuko mentioned anything about its appearance. Thus, when she attended to its basic needs, Etsuko would never forget to praise its appearance, telling how beautiful it was and how it would make a fine wife for a lucky man.

Etsuko relished the way it would tightly clench its hands until they bleed and pretend as if her words did not affect it at all. Etsuko knew she should have known better than to tempt that thing, but she could not help it, she wanted the monster who took away her daughter to suffer. If only no one would notice its disappearance, Etsuko would have–

The sounds of the door being knocked broke Etsuko from her musing.

Etsuko moved to stand and smoothed her face into a polite smile. She would show Hotaru that she was not affected by the woman's (lack of) appearance. Etsuko was not sure why her heartbeat was thundering inside her rib cage, as if she was anticipating Hotaru's arrival. She definitely was not.

At all.

Etsuko slid the door open,

And her smile slipped abruptly from her lips.

Shikamaru was not sure what exactly he had expected when he decided to do his spur-of-the-moment plan.

It certainly was not this.

Not that he was complaining or anything, but it seemed he had severely underestimated Hitoshi Nara, né Yamanaka's, dauntlessness. The sight before him certainly did not match any kind of pattern he had seen on the man.

Shikamaru heaved an annoyed sigh.

He only had come home from visiting his new paternal grandparents in the Yamanaka Clan's settlement, where the clan head's wife and children treated him and Hitoshi like a second-class citizen – which they technically were, in the term of social status – even though it was unnecessary since Hitoshi was no longer in the running to be Yamanaka's Clan Head.

Three days of staying there had put a massive strain in his patience limit, and Shikamaru had come home with the intention of sleeping for one whole day without interruption. However, it seemed the universe was not content by simply letting him rest peacefully in his uncomfortable bed, because once he walked inside the house, he was greeted with a smell that was all too familiar to him,

The smell of rotting corpses.

He, of course, had followed the source to investigate, even though it was already obvious who the corpse was.

Turned out it was not a corpse, but corpses, corpses which also happened to be bitch queen and bitch sensei. He felt somewhat sorry, but even in their deaths he still could not find it in him to address them with proper titles and respect.

The corpses were wrapped in an embrace, a lewd one considering their position. Judging from the empty sleeping pills' container, the four empty sake bottles that were strewn on the tatami mat, and the fact that there was no sign of forced entry nor anomaly in the corpses that suggested that they were forced to take the pills and the alcohol, it was logical to assume that the cause of their deaths were suicide by drug's poisoning.

However, Shikamaru knew better. It was too perfect, too coincidental – and who else could commit such a clean and traceless murder better than someone who was proficient in mind techniques? It was most likely Hitoshi. Yes, it could be someone else, but it was unlikely. Until new evidence provided itself, Shikamaru would have to withhold any judgment.

Well… no matter.

Shikamaru glanced at the rotting corpses. He supposed he should do something about them, else their stenches became too hard to be removed.

Shikamaru sighed. Now he had to pretend to be sad and cried for at least two days.

Troublesome.

"Nii-san, should we kill them?"

The elder of the two glanced at his little brother, then to the two women who were slumped at the base of the tree, drugged unconscious.

They had just returned from their mission when he sensed presences near the tree which he previously intended to use as a temporary resting place. He felt quite tired and his chakra was quite spent, thus he would appreciate a little bit of rest.

"Well... we have no use for them. Based on their chakra level they are civilian, so leaving them here in the open will only increase the risk of them being taken by bandits or being eaten by wild animals."

"So, do we kill them or not?" the younger boy asked impatiently.

The older boy folded his hands and observed the two women, trying to find a clue about their value.

They were clothed in a nondescript, dull kimono. There were no insignia of their clan in their respective clothes. Their features were also average enough. One of them had black hair whilst the other had brown. The black haired one though, she had a distinct smell of a flower, a Camellia if he was not wrong.

Then there were red marks in their neck, most likely from a kunai. But for whatever reason their supposed killer decided not to kill them in the last second, only leaving red marks in their throats.

Odd.

"I think we should keep them," he declared.

"Why?" The confusion was palpable in the other boy's voice.

"Well… you know father. He likes," he made a vague motion with his hand, showing how uncomfortable he was to speak about the topic with the younger boy, "…pretty women."

Those women were quite beautiful – personally he thought they looked boring, he couldn't care less about their faces; he simply wanted to go home and get some sleep – certainly matched their father's usual type. If the man did not like them he could always kill them, sell them, or made them the clan's servants, whichever their father preferred.

"But why? He has mother, mother is pretty too."

"That, Izuna, is a question that I will answer once you are older."

"But nii-san!" the boy whined.

"Now, now, don't be like that." He smiled and ruffled his brother's hair. "Come on, you need to rest, I'll do the first watch."

Madara ignored his brother's pout and ushered him aside, making sure he was really resting instead of just feigning sleep.

Meanwhile, somewhere in another part of the Land of Fire, two corpses inside the coffins that were being cremated dissolved into muds, leaving no trace of the deception as the coffins were consumed by blazing fire.

Thank you for reading this chapter. Thank you for favoriting and following my story. Your reviews, especially, really make my day.

I sincerely want to improve my writing, so all critics are welcomed. If it is possible, please tell me which part you like best and which part you hate, and why.

Check out my other story, "The Black Parade".