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

Part 1: Nara Shikari

"He's a mass of contradictions. Unfortunately, that only seems to enhance his appeal. I'm one sick bitch, that's for sure."

Siobhan Davis, Finding Kyler

Staring, that was what everyone did.

At his braided hair – not by his own volition, at his flower-patterned yukata – a piece of clothing which Hitoshi made him wear, and he did not care enough to oppose because it was too bothersome to argue over something superficial, at his soft fingers – there were no calluses on them, at his small and delicate frame – a frame which belonged to someone who did not understand hard work and never broke a sweat throughout their life.

He was completely out of place.

Shikamaru walked few steps behind a bulky man who acted as his tour guide, an Akimichi, who Shikamaru deducted from the way the trainees treated him with respect was one of the teachers in the barrack, as the man led him through some sort of mess hall that were filled shinobi and trainees alike, who were enjoying breaks after training, missions or whatever it was that they were doing.

He was completely out of place.

Shikamaru could practically see the gears in their heads turning, pondering just what a girl – a woman – who obviously was not one of the servants, was doing inside a barrack filled with shinobi. While the answer might be obvious, there was no denying that the notion of him being here alone was already quite ridiculous, thus Shikamaru had pretty much resigned himself into being ogled and scrutinized during his seven days stay at the settlement.

They walked past a big door and descended through long rows of stairs towards somewhere underground. During their silent outing, they took various twists and turns into other sets of stairs that intersected with the main staircase. Shikamaru inwardly made a mental map of those stairs whilst commending the sophistication of the Dōton user that had built the underground maze. Intruders that had no knowledge of this place would be unable to navigate through the vast expenses of stairs, and knowing his clansmen, probably ended up triggering hidden traps that they had surely laid, never to be seen again.

The stair brought them to a dimly lit corridor which led into three other directions. Shikamaru followed his tour guide as the man headed towards the left corridor. They stopped in front of the last door in the hallway.

The man turned around to face him, his face impassive. "This room will be your accommodation during your stay here, the washroom is over there." He pointed towards the door that was located a few meters away from his assigned room. "Training will continue at noon, so you still have a few hours to settle yourself." The man's brown eyes then briefly flickered into his attire, his lips curled in distaste. "Do change your clothes, will you? We're not pampering princesses and practicing tea ceremonies here. We don't want your pretty dress to get ruined, do we?" he asked flatly.

Shikamaru only gave the teacher a polite smile, inwardly imagining how it would feel like to stab Hitoshi repeatedly in the stomach. "Yes sir."

The Akimichi was unmoved by his charm. "Any question?"

Shikamaru nodded in affirmative and made a conscious effort to radiate nervousness from his posture. It was an appropriate response for a girl who was standing in a deserted hallway with a stranger. "Uh, yes... where exactly are we, sir? Earlier I saw a boy coming from the corridor a few levels above us. Is he not a student too?"

"At least you're not a complete retard," the man muttered under his breath. He did not even bother to put any effort to make sure Shikamaru did not hear it. The insult was quite new though. He was certain that the only one who ever called him stupid was his mother and Etsuko – sweet blasted Etsuko.

"For your information, this hallway hosts the servants' quarters. We both know that you won't be here for long, so there's no point in giving you a real room. You will give up just like others before you," he answered blandly.

"There are other girls?" Shikamaru asked, honestly surprised.

"Were. They all failed, obviously, and they did not even have a time limit like you."

Shikamaru paid no heed to the man's offhand remark, wanting to gather more information instead. "What happens?"

The man shrugged. "They were simply unable to keep up with the training." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Although there was that one girl…"

Shikamaru perked up in interest. "What about her?"

"She was a war salvage from a dead clan," he recounted. "Only taken in out of pity. Quite an adept student, but…"

"What?" Shikamaru urged, his mask momentarily slipping.

"You sure ask a lot of questions," the man commented.

"You offered," Shikamaru countered. Hopefully his curiosity would be dismissed as a harmless interest towards his fellow female ninja wannabe.

"That's true." The man smiled thinly. "You know, you really remind me of your father, always so curious…"

Shikamaru would be honored if the man was talking about Shikaku, but he knew that he wasn't. To be perfectly honest, he really had no trouble with Hitoshi, but the man had grown more troublesome as the time passed, and Shikamaru had considered if it would not have been easier if he simply replaced him with a clone. There was something about the man that was just… off. Shikamaru had not determined what, but something about the man really rubbed him the wrong way.

Shikamaru inwardly shrugged the thought away, it was most likely just his annoyance speaking.

"So…?" Shikamaru trailed off.

The man sighed. "I don't know what really happened. At the time she almost finished her training, but…" A troubled look crossed his expression. "That girl, she hung herself."

Shikamaru felt his eyebrows rise into his hairline. "Did she…"

"No, she didn't die." The Akimichi waved away his concern. "Another student saved her just in time. It was your father actually," he said with a hint of pride.

That did sound like the kind of thing that Hitoshi would do, but what was the man even doing in there?

"Where is she now?" he asked. "Do I know her?"

Perhaps once all of this hassle was over Shikamaru could pay her a visit. If all of his efforts turned out to be a failure, the woman could be a valuable tool that could help him escape this place. That was, if the Yamanaka had not wiped her memories first, because Shikamaru would not believe even for a second that these people would let a loose end roam around with the information of their military base.

"Of course you know her, you've met her before. Not in the best circumstance though." The man grimaced.

When exactly? As far as Shikamaru was concerned, his transmigration into the past was a complete and utter nightmare, thus every second that he spent here would all be classified as an awful circumstance.

The man took note of his confused expression. "Didn't your father ever tell you?"

Tell me what? Loathe as he was to say it, Shikamaru had to admit that Hitoshi was one of the most tight-lipped bastards he had ever met, a really fine trait for a shinobi.

"You really don't know, do you?" the man muttered lowly, a hint of wonder tinted his voice.

That statement threw Shikamaru off a bit.

"Know what?" Shikamaru disguised his building trepidation under a calm mask.

The man shook his head. "If your own father never tells you about it, then I don't think that it is my place to say it."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Shikamaru stated without hesitation.

He could give two shits about such idealistic principles. Information was information; it could be a difference between life and death. It was not like the woman's identity would kill Hitoshi.

The man grinned, his smile knowing, as if they had just shared a dirty secret. "You really are your mother's daughter, are you?"

Shikamaru would have shuddered in horror if the fact that the man seemed to know everyone and everything that happened around this place did not pique his interest first.

"So…?" he echoed his earlier question.

The man scrutinized him, as if he still was not sure whether he should tell him the information.

Moment passed, and Shikamaru barely suppressed a smirk when the man finally opened his mouth.

"That girl... she was your mother's lover."

Shikamaru felt his brows arched.

"She was Hotaru."

Shikamaru loosened the collar of his yukata to allow his skin a bit more perspiration.

The heat from the sun pressed in on him. It was high noon and the sun shone with unrestrained brutality, few trees cast patches of half-hearted shade onto the baked courtyard. Sweat trickled down from his forehead to his neck and back in steady flow, his tied hair clung to his head in a pathetic bun. Shikamaru pushed a few strands of hair that clung into his face like a leech, inwardly wondering how he could get away with shaving his hair bald without having Hitoshi bitching at him.

He had been following his tour guide – the man finally introduced himself as Daisuke – for the last five minutes as the man marched under the glaring sun towards what Shikamaru suspected was the dojo on top of the hill. By amplifying his senses with chakra, he could hear the sharp clang of woods and metals; smell the rancid male sweats that permeated the air. Shikamaru felt tingles run down his fingers at the prospect of holding weapons again – the real one at least, not the kitchen knife and the frying pan that he had been using for practice.

By any means, Shikamaru was not a bloodthirsty shinobi, nor was he a sadist. Fighting was not something that he enjoyed – he even only enrolled into the academy out of boredom – he thought it was troublesome, pointless even. But he knew it was not because he was a pacifist, he simply never met opponents that could challenge him and force him to actually fight. Whilst his fight with Hidan was quite enjoyable, the immortal underestimated too much, and burying the man in his backyard became too easy. It was anticlimactic, and all of his battles onwards only felt like a disappointment. He became a Hokage, a miserable bastard who was chained to his damned desk, trying to do the impossible task of upholding the status quo, dealing with morons who refused to compromise, and having diplomatic meetings which produced no actual results whilst the world slowly burnt around him. He only fought out of obligation, not for a cause that he actually believed in.

Shikamaru had come into this barrack with the hope of having an opportunity to meet someone who was both unpredictable and challenging, someone he could beat the shit out of without his conscience constantly nagging at him – he had accumulated quite a significant amount of frustration and loathing towards life in general that sometimes he wondered if he was experiencing a premature case of midlife crisis – thus he was a bit disappointed when Daisuke walked past the foot of the hill into the direction of…

He squinted his eyes,

Of a bunch of children practicing chakra control.

Shikamaru knew why they went there, learning how to utilize one's chakra was the first step in one's training as shinobi. However, despite all of that, he still could not help the wave of indignation that coursed through of his being. As laid-back as he was, he was not that much of a shitty shinobi, and to have all of his efforts dismissed – no matter how little they were – simply because he was stuck inside a little girl was both infuriating and insulting.

"We're going there?"

Daisuke turned his head. "Of course." He then raised his brow, his expression turned condescending. "You don't honestly expect that you can be suddenly adept at shinobi art just because you want to be one, do you?"

Shikamaru did not rise to the bait, his polite smile impeccable. "Of course not. But I think you," he paused, "no, everyone misunderstood my intention. I'm not here to learn, I'm here to prove my qualification and be a shinobi."

Shikamaru watched as the corners of Daisuke's lips curled involuntarily. The man fought hard to suppress his mirth as his tattooed cheeks swelled momentarily with pressure, but it was no use. His laughter erupted, booming across the spacious clearing as he bent over, slapping his knee repeatedly.

Shikamaru on the other hand could only suppress the unbearable urge to roll his eyes in vexation. The man tried too hard to provoke him that it had started to become pathetic. It might have worked if he was an actual immature child, but since he was not, it only caused his annoyance to multiply tenfold. Was this a personality test? Did the man see through his bashful and well-mannered girl persona? Shikamaru was not sure.

"Oy, you're done?" he asked, his tone cold. He might as well give what the man wanted and stop wasting their time.

In a manner akin to a drunken man who suddenly gained sobriety, Daisuke's rambunctious laugh immediately stopped. The man straightened up, his seven-feet high figure towered over him like a parody of David and Goliath, a smug smile stretched over his scarred feature.

"Ah… I was wondering just how long you would keep that ridiculous charade on."

Shikamaru shrugged, he already saw this coming. "I just want to make the best impression. Since it doesn't work, there's no need to keep it up anymore."

Daisuke hummed and tapped his fingers against his chin, as if he was seriously contemplating his theatrical act. "I have to admit, your performance is rather astounding. You almost convince me that you're as dumb as you look." Ouch. "Others may not notice it, but I've been teaching for years and met students with various characters. I can see how uncomfortable you are with keeping that smile on your face."

Shikamaru decided to play it dumb, playing the card of an innocent little girl. "That's what my mother taught me."

"Well she's dead, isn't she?" Shikamaru faked a flinch. "First lesson, you'll go nowhere if you only follow others' direction. You have to be your own person, then and only then that you can bloom into a butterfly."

At least the man had some redeemable qualities. Despite being a bit of a jerk, from the passion in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes alone, Shikamaru could see that the man took his profession as teacher seriously and genuinely cared about his students.

"Do you really think that you have what it takes to be a shinobi?" Daisuke's eyes for once were perfectly neutral. There was no judgment or incredulity in those brown orbs, only a simple curiosity.

"I do," Shikamaru answered resolutely.

Daisuke nodded. "Then we'll go to the dojo. We're having a small tournament there. If you win, I'll allow you to participate in training. But if not," the Akimichi's expression hardened, "you'll pack your things, go home, and never set your foot in here again, ever. Do we have a deal?"

Shikamaru clasped his hand with the man's offered hand, his grip strong. "Deal."

"Then it's settled," he announced. "Follow me."

Shikamaru smirked towards the man's back, gladly.

"Boys, this is Nara-chan," Daisuke's large hand roughly patted his shoulder. "Nara-chan, meet the boys."

Shikamaru inclined his head, "Pleased to meet you."

"She will join us for our sparring session this week." Cued, staring. "As usual, the winner will get a reward. On this occasion, the winner will join our guest, Shikadai-kun," Daisuke motioned his hand towards a black haired boy who was leaning in the corner of the room; a sword was strapped at the belt in his waist. Shikadai Nara, the current Nara Clan heir and his future great-grandfather. The boy's resemblance with his descendants was uncanny. It almost felt like he was seeing his old face in the mirror, "with his team on their mission. The field experience will be very valuable for the upcoming evaluation, so make sure to do your best."

"Yes sensei," they chorused.

"This time we will do a Battle Royale. You will work in a team of three. If one of the team members is knocked out, the team will be automatically disqualified." Murmurs and groans broke inside the room, notwithstanding his. Now he could not pretend to pass out and attack when there was only one team left. What a drag.

"Be quiet!" Daisuke spiked his chakra. His eyes narrowed. "You are allowed to use taijutsu and bukijutsu, but no lethal attacks. The last team standing will be the winner. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Now scram!"

As the boys scrambled to form teams, Shikamaru surveyed the weapon pouches that his would-be-opponents had and addressed the man beside him. "Do you have any weapon that I can borrow?"

Daisuke did not spare him a glance. "No. Everyone here makes their own weapon, and you're not an exception."

Shikamaru nodded his head in understanding. It would be for the best not to show any bias, he did not want others to think that he was an inadequate brat who was taken in only out of sheer whining. Though taijutsu was not his main preference, it did not mean that his skill at it was abysmal.

"Alright then. Who will be on my team?"

Daisuke's mouth twitched. "No one. Their numbers are already even, which make you on your own team." Of course they are, and that was why one of the team only had two members. What a load of shit. He redacted his earlier thought. The man was a petty bastard through and through. "It is my sacred duty as a teacher to make sure that everyone under my tutelage reaches their best potential," Daisuke said sagely. "You seem to be very eager to prove your skill, so this could be the chance for you to shine."

It was not the matter of winning. He could kill everyone in this room within ten seconds if he wished to – he was not chosen as Hokage for nothing – and he could be a vicious monster if he preferred to, but he wouldn't. Shikamaru was many things, but the thought of beating children just left a sour taste in his mouth, more than killing people in general. He had been hoping that Daisuke would give him needles that he could use to hit those children's pressure points and send them into a painless sleep, or at least a team member that would fight them in his stead. However, he had neither, and now he had to go against something that he believed in and beat those children just to gain a little freedom. He could not even make Daisuke fight him instead, attracting more attention was the last thing that he needed right now. After six years of consecutive waiting – only able to scheme inside his head with no actual chance of escape – he really could not afford to lose. Such a priceless opportunity might not come again.

Shikamaru spared Daisuke one last glance – he would deal with his conscience later, it was now or never – before he walked past the pillars that held the two-story building together into the center of the dojo, where the sparring was being hosted.

Shikamaru avidly observed every twitch of movements his opponents made. The way their eyes darted over each other, scanning for threats. The way their hands hovered over their weapon pouches and the way their muscles tensed in anticipation. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed how Daisuke lifted his right hand into the air.

Shikamaru clenched his hands.

"Begin!"

Shikamaru jumped back and landed into a halt, his stolen kunai firmly poised in front of him.

This was troublesome. He had been waiting in the corner for most of the time. But as the competitors started thinning, some of them no longer ignored him and decided to attack. They were quite hesitant at first, but after consecutive failures in landing any hit on him, what was left of them started to gang up on him. He had been stalling for a while to tire them up, he'd rather not attack them unless necessary.

Shikamaru noticed the almost indiscernible nod of one of the team leaders before two opponents came at him from different directions, aiming for a punch. He smoothly ducked and slid on the wooden dojo floor, letting them collide with each other. The boss came at him. He jumped when the boy swept under his feet and deflected a kunai that was aimed at his cheek. He kneed the boy's abdomen to reduce their height difference and struck his jaw, knocking him out and effectively disqualifying his team.

Shikamaru rolled away at the last minute to avoid barracks of shuriken that were aimed at him towards a grinning brunette who thought he would not see through his team ploy. Shikamaru evaded his punch, then a kick, and a punch again. When the boy slashed forward with his kunai, Shikamaru crouched low to evade the strike and used his hands as a spring before landing a firm kick onto the boy's chest, sending him tumbling into the floor. He breathed out a relieved sigh when he noticed him breathing. He did not hit too hard then.

Shikamaru wiped the dust and sweat that glistened his palms as he walked towards Daisuke's direction, ignoring the butthurt boys who were not-so-secretly glaring at him. His nonchalant expression and slouched posture only managed to aggravate them even more, good. To be able to survive in the shinobi world, one had to understand humility and know when it was the time to make tactical retreat, regardless of what one's pride might dictate.

He kind of understood their feelings. They already trained since they could walk, but here he was, an oddball who suddenly came out of nowhere with abilities already on par with them if not more, and he was only using taijutsu and bukijutsu. It was not even his fault, it was not like it was an everyday occurrence for some random ninja to suddenly be sent into the past and trapped inside a baby's body, and he needed to flaunt some skills to sway Daisuke to put in good words about him to the Clan Head – no matter how unlikely it was since the man was such an ass. So if they wanted to vent their anger at someone, they were welcomed to complain to whatever person or thing that had placed him here – or just kicked Hitoshi in the balls, since the man helped to conceive Shikari.

Shikamaru stopped in front Daisuke's line of sight. The man was leaning against the railing on the second floor with Shikadai lounging beside him. The man's expression was unreadable, the light that had filtered through the window only managed to highlight the scar that ran from his cheek to his jaw even more, making him look more intimidating. But there was this teeny-tiny smile that graced his lips, it was barely visible, but it was there.

It made him wary. He did not like it at all.

"Good performance Nara-chan. I know my trust in you is not mistaken."

Trust my ass, he scoffed inwardly. But still, Shikamaru respectfully bowed his head in mandatory gratitude. "Thank you sir."

The man gave a tiny acknowledgment and averted his eyes to the other trainees. "Do you know what you did wrong?"

An auburn haired boy, one of the last trainees to be eliminated stepped forward. "We underestimated her, sensei."

"Very." Daisuke gave them a stern look. "Everyone is potentially dangerous, everyone. No matter how frail looking your opponent may be, remember to always face them seriously. Is that clear?"

"Yes sensei!" they chorused.

"Good. Now make the seal of reconciliation."

Shikamaru smiled and offered his hand to a boy nearest to him. "Peace?"

After a small hesitation, the Yamanaka locked his fingers against him and replied with a smile of his own, "Peace."

Shikamaru continued to do so with the others. Some were reluctant whilst some were indifferent; some refused and glared at him as if he had a particularly contagious case of leprosy. Oh well, at least he did not accidentally kill anyone.

"Nara-chan, as promised, you can join us for the next seven days. I will not go easy on you, so prepare yourself," Daisuke ordered. "Be ready for your mission at six. Shikadai-kun will meet you at the mess hall. Remember not to be late and make a fool out of yourself."

"Yes sir." The girl bowed and walked out of the dojo.

Once the girl slid the door closed, Daisuke averted his gaze towards his students and straightened.

"The rest of you, go to the courtyard and practice your katas, barefoot. Whilst doing so, reflect on how and why you can lose to a scrawny little girl. You're an embarrassment not only to yourself, but to me and your family."

"I expect you to be better. I want you to be better. I don't ask much of you, I simply want you to survive. And to be able to survive, you have to be strong. I have had enough of my former students' deaths weighing down on me, and I don't need yours too." Daisuke paused to let his words sunken in. "Now go," he dismissed, his tone deathly soft.

They quietly shuffled and walked out of the dojo, their shame was palpable and clogging the air. Daisuke on the other hand allowed himself a liberty of a smile at sight. It appeared he still had not lost his touch.

"Ne… sensei, aren't you too harsh on them?" the voice beside him chimed.

Daisuke scoffed. "You're the one to talk, as if you weren't the one who suggested a Battle Royale in the first place."

Shikadai shrugged. "We need to test just how far they would go to follow their order, how far their loyalty runs with their comrades. Granted, we can't exactly have accurate data without making them kill each other, but they are obedient enough. They work together pretty well despite being tasked to eliminate each other."

"That's mostly because they all have a common enemy." His gaze fixed on the now deserted dojo.

"That may be true, but my point still stands nonetheless." Shikadai rested his chin on top of his folded hands. "You're going to use her as a bait, aren't you? 'Favor one person to motivate the others', that's why you compliment her in such a public manner. You do know that the others are going to give her a hard time, right?"

"She will handle it. She has to if she wants to stay here. Although her movements are a bit stiff and shaky, she has potential. It will be beneficial for everyone. Plus, the isolation should tone down her arrogance and make her stronger." Or lead into a mental breakdown, was left unsaid.

Shikadai grunted noncommittally.

The girl is good. She fought well and knew how to take advantage of her situation. She stayed calm even though she was surrounded from all sides. And that gait of her, he did not think of it as arrogance, she was simply confident in what she was doing. The girl was smart, her movements were calculated, and she acknowledged her weakness. What she lacked in strength, she complimented it with her agility. However, the girl had one fatal shortcoming. It was obvious from the way she always pulled her punches back at the last second that she was hesitant in hurting her opponents, that was why her movements were spasmodic. She did not want to hurt others, as expected from a woman.

Then why bother?

Why did she want to be a shinobi when she was unwilling to do the dirty deeds that came with it?

Such an odd girl.

…

Unbeknownst to them, the topic of their conversation was standing outside the building, hearing their whole conversation with chakra enhanced ears.

Solitude of silence hung around him. Only the beats of his heart could be heard amongst the hooting of owls and the chirping of crickets. The moon was a ghostly-silver orb hanging in the lonely sky. Its beams were slightly obscured by drifting clouds, alternately casting lights and shadows over the land. His eyes flickered down from his position on the thick, dark branch of the tall tree that he perched on, towards the interlocking branches of trees below him. The trees were densely packed together, a perfect place for ninja to travel.

Shikamaru should have been doing patrols with Shikadai and his lackeys, but naturally, he bailed out and wandered a few miles away from their settlement's border. He had tasked one of his clones to do the patrol in his stead whilst the other one explored the terrain and mapped it. He himself was stargazing, or at least he was going to until he remembered that today was a full moon. If its bright light had not washed out all but the brightest stars already, those grey-white clouds surely would have.

Shikamaru had intended to do something productive as an alternative, but then the moon reminded him of Kaguya, and Kaguya reminded him about Konoha, which in turn reminded him of his unborn comrades and his peculiar situation. Thus, for the last two hours, he had been sitting here, contemplating about his existence and whether he had any purpose by being here – Was he being punished? Was this a second chance? Was he a mistake? What was he even doing? Shikamaru had planned many scenarios inside his head, from something perfectly innocuous into something that was completely outrageous. He had so many things that he wanted to do but at the same time don't, because doing things required investing one's time, thoughts, and efforts into them – he really did not feel like it – and he could only spam so many clones from his average chakra reserve to run his errands before he finally dropped dead from chakra exhaustion.

Shikamaru stopped his line of thoughts and groaned. This just proved it, he was having a midlife crisis – or was it a quarter-life? – He still would not reach that age for another two decades or so, but he felt so tired and old and bored already, absolutely bored. And in his boredom, he would have started another round of meaningless debate with himself if not for the influx of chakra and memories that suddenly entered him. He almost fell out of the tree if not for his quick reflex.

Shikamaru frowned. His scouting clone had been dispelled. Its last memory was that it was harmlessly mapping an area and minding its own business, before it was roughly shoved into the tree bark and met its demise. But who killed it?

His mind flickered to the area that it had been scouting. He racked his brain for the map that Shikadai had shown him before the mission and recreated it inside his head. He remembered that there were dots with clans' insignias scribbled under them scattered on it, Shikadai explained that they were the general location of other clans' hideouts and guard posts in relation with their border, a.k.a. the places that they should avoid during their patrol if they did not want to be dragged into a fight. He mentally calculated the distance that his clone would have reached with its average speed – taking into account the limited visibility of the forest and the various stops that it would certainly take to fulfill its duty – and came to the conclusion that it would have trespassed someone else's territory by now.

But where?

Shikamaru hopped and balanced himself at the top of the tree to search for the Polaris. He traced his finger against the dark sky and imagined the connecting lines from the Big Dipper. There! If he were facing the north, that would mean that he had come from the south, which meant his clone had gone to the north-east, and the north-east was…

Uchiha hideout?

Shikamaru pressed his palm against his face in a mixture of chronic embarrassment and exasperation.

That moron! What was it doing there? Had he not given it an explicit instruction to stay away from other clans? The only plausible explanation that Shikamaru could come up with was that the clone had stumbled upon something very worthwhile, so much that it was willing to disobey its creator order and travel that far to explore the area. But what?

Shikamaru inspected his clone's memories again. The terrains it mapped looked relatively average for Land of Fire. There was a river that he recognized as one that connected it to the Land of Rivers. However, other than that, there was nothing distinctive.

What then? What did it find?

Technically speaking, he still had four hours before his shift was over, and theoretically, that should be enough time for him to travel there and return to the border again. However, so many things could go wrong within the span of a few hours, and Shikamaru was not sure if he was willing to disturb the temporary balance and tranquility that he had worked so hard to achieve for something that might not actually be worth the effort. On the other hand, there was this nagging voice inside his head, claiming about how he would get nowhere with his unwillingness to take what he opinionated as an unnecessarily dumb risk, about how he was avoiding his maximum potential and missed an opportunity to grow.

He snorted. I can't grow if I'm dead, am I?

But what if I don't? He thought again. What if he actually found something important, an important piece of puzzle that could make some sense into his situation? Besides, loitering around someone else's territory was not exactly a crime as long as one did not get caught, and sneaking around was something that had become one of his best specialties.

Shikamaru sighed, the hell with it. He had nothing else to do anyway. He tightened the clasps of his too-big armor and jumped into the lower tree branch, before he broke into a run towards his clone's latest location.

Whatever happens, happens.

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