If Shikamaru would have met Daimaru, this would have probably happened … at some point.
The wind moved lazily across the rooftops of Konoha, warm and dry, carrying the distant sounds of evening traffic and training grounds winding down for the day. Shikamaru stood near the edge of a low wall, hands in his pockets, posture loose like he’d just wandered there by accident. His eyes, however, were sharp —fixed on the man across from him.
Daimaru shifted his weight, clearly trying to look more confident than he felt.
Shikamaru sighed softly, gaze drifting up to the sky for a second before returning to him. “You’ve been hanging around a lot lately,” he said, tone mild, almost bored. “Took me a while to figure out why.”
Daimaru frowned. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Didn’t say you were” Shikamaru replied “Just… inefficient.”
A faint crease formed between Daimaru’s brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Shikamaru tilted his head slightly, studying him the way he would a shogi board midgame. “It means,” he said calmly, “you keep looking at Temari like there’s still a move left to play.”
The name alone made the air feel heavier.
Daimaru’s jaw tightened “And?”
“And,” Shikamaru continued, voice even, “Temari isn’t a position waiting to be filled. She already chose where she stands.” His eyes held Daimaru’s now —not hostile, not heated. Just certain. “You’re putting effort into an outcome that was never possible.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the wind.
“I’m not saying this to start something,” Shikamaru added, shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug. “Just saving you time. Getting attached to someone who is already taken? Troublesome habit.”
Daimaru looked away first.
Shikamaru watched him go, then glanced toward the village gates in the distance, where he knew a certain blonde kunoichi would be returning soon. A small, almost private smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Honestly,” he muttered to himself, “some people never learn to read the board.”
