The house had gone unusually quiet.
Not completely silent —never silent with Temari around —but quiet enough that Shikamaru had noticed the absence before he even realized he’d gotten distracted from the paperwork sitting unfinished beside him.
Without wanting to break the silence, he stepped outside quietly —mostly to clear his head, expecting to complain to himself about lost focus. And maybe smoke a cigarette. Maybe.
Yet as he got closer, his steps ceased.
Temari stood in the yard, sunlight catching against her hair while Shikadai darted around her with far too much confidence for someone clearly losing whatever game they’d turned into a competition. There was dust kicked up beneath careless feet, Temari’s voice carrying sharp amusement through the air as she called something out to their son —probably correcting or just teasing him. Hard to tell. With her, it was usually both.
Shikadai groaned dramatically. Temari laughed. And somehow, that sound always made the world feel quieter and at peace. Was this how his father used to feel all those years ago?
Shikamaru leaned against the doorway, arms folding loosely across his chest.
There had been a time when he thought his future would be painfully average. Some ordinary life, no complications, no unnecessary effort. Maybe enough peace to nap whenever he wanted.
Then Naruto had happened. Of course he had.
If Naruto hadn’t spent half their childhood shoving people forward without even realizing what he was doing, Shikamaru doubted he would’ve stepped half as far outside his comfort zone as he had. And during the chunin exams.. he almost smirked to himself.
What a real drag that had been.
Getting pushed to take things seriously. Fighting harder than he actually wanted to. Facing off against a girl who’d looked at him like she could already tell exactly what kind of lazy idiot he was.
The memory still came easy.
Sharp eyes. Sharp mouth. Strong enough to be annoying about it. Strong enough to intrigue him.
He could still remember their fight —how frustratingly capable she’d been, how she’d challenged him without trying to, how she somehow managed to stay in his head afterward despite him pretending she didn’t.
If Naruto hadn’t pushed him back then
If he hadn’t ended up in that arena…
Watching his wife absolutely destroy their son in some yard game while pretending she was “teaching him strategy”?
Would Shikadai even exist?
The thought settled heavier than he expected. A quiet sort of gratitude. He’d never say it out loud. Naruto would make it weird.
Troublesome as the guy was —Shikamaru owed him more than he’d probably ever admit.
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