he’s stultified within the crowd, hands dug deep within his trouser pockets, a thin line formed at his mouth. he’s never been one for crowds—why the station is this crowded is beyond him—yet he deals with it for the sake of his nephew, a boy set to arrive at any moment, now…
the clearing of a throat garners the clan patriarch’s attention; his nephew sticks out like a sore thumb with his red face-paint. soon enough, that thin line curves upward at the corners, and shikamaru places his hand on shinki’s shoulder. “hello, shinki,” he greets the boy. “your oba-san is at work, and your itoko is at school, so you’ll be stuck with me for the day. i hope that’s alright.”
At times, the young shinobi was not a people person. They could be too loud, and too obstructive for Shinki to process. His uncle however, was one of the few that knew how to be quiet. There were little quirks that could get on Shinki’s nerves, but for the most part Shikamaru gave effort, and he was not about to say no to that. Especially when he remembered people wanted him to try harder with people.
Shinki felt as if Shikamaru understood. With how high his father praises him, Shinki has no doubt. Not that he would say it -- he was not the sentimental kind. A small nod followed as he tried not to stand as stiff as a board following the touch. “That is fine... As long as I am not keeping you from work with Hokage-sama? I know you can become quite busy.”
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