Chapter 1
The midday sun beat down on Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Twelve-year-old Shikamaru Nara, fresh off his promotion to chunin, felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders. Today was his first official duty as Asuma Sarutobi's assistant, and already, trouble lurked.
A commotion echoed near the village gate.
A young girl, no older than him, lay sprawled on the dusty ground. Her clothes were ragged, her face pale, and a crimson stain blossomed on her chest. Shikamaru, ever the pragmatist, pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning the scene. Asuma, ever the mentor, trailed close behind.
Shikamaru knelt beside the girl. He knew a bit about first aid thanks to the Nara clan's affinity for medicine. Relief washed over him as he felt a faint pulse fluttering beneath her cold skin. Then, his gaze snagged on a tell-tale detail – a frayed fragment of Akatsuki fabric knotted around her left arm, the symbol of the notorious criminal organization.
"Get a medic!" Shikamaru barked, a hint of urgency cracking his usual monotone. Asuma, witnessing his former student take charge, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. This wasn't the lazy, cloud-gazing Shikamaru he knew.
The medics arrived with a flurry, whisking the girl away on a stretcher. Shikamaru rose, the weight in his chest shifting to a dull ache. He didn't know who this girl was, how she ended up outside Konoha, or what the Akatsuki had to do with it. But one thing was certain – trouble had awoken from its nap, and Shikamaru, along with Asuma, was about to be dragged into its wake.
"So," Asuma started, a hint of amusement in his voice,
"Looks like your first day got a little more interesting than you bargained for, huh Shikamaru?"
Shikamaru met his sensei's gaze, a flicker of determination sparking within his onyx eyes.
"Troublesome," he muttered, pushing his bangs aside with a sigh. "But hey, at least it's not boring."
Asuma chuckled, his amusement morphing into a wry smile. He could already see the wheels turning in his student's mind. This wasn't just about a wounded girl anymore. This was about unraveling a mystery, a taste of the real world that lay beyond Konoha's walls. Shikamaru Nara, the genius chunin with a knack for trouble, was on the case.
Day 1.
The sterile white walls of Konoha General Hospital felt suffocating to Shikamaru. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound that dared to break the silence as he sat by the girl's bedside. A day had passed since he found her unconscious at the village gate, and the mystery surrounding her only deepened.
The medics had stabilized her, but she remained unconscious. They hadn't been able to find any identification on her, and the fragment of Akatsuki cloth only fueled Shikamaru's suspicions.
Why would a young girl be found near Konoha with a symbol of a dangerous criminal organization?
He ran a hand through his spiky hair, his usual calmness replaced by a nagging worry. Asuma had patted him on the shoulder earlier, a silent reassurance that they'd get to the bottom of this. But for now, Shikamaru was left with his own thoughts, the weight of responsibility settling on him like a heavy cloak.
The girl's face, pale and framed by messy brown hair, held an innocence that tugged at his heart. He couldn't help but wonder about her life, the journey that led her to Konoha in such a state. Was she a target of the Akatsuki? Did they have something to do with her injuries?
The door creaked open, and Asuma entered, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a thoughtful frown. "Any news?" Shikamaru asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Asuma shook his head.
"Nothing yet. The medics are still running tests, but they haven't found any traces of poison or foreign objects. It's strange."
Shikamaru fell silent again, his gaze fixed on the girl's chest that rose and fell with each shallow breath.
"What if she doesn't wake up?" he finally asked, a tremor of fear lacing his voice. He hated showing weakness, but the thought of this young girl fading away without a trace was unsettling.
Asuma placed a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder, a silent reassurance.
"She's a fighter, Shikamaru. Don't give up on her yet."
Shikamaru nodded, a flicker of resolve returning to his eyes. He wouldn't give up. Not until they unraveled the mystery of the girl and the Akatsuki, not until she could tell her own story.
.
.
.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Konoha General as Shikamaru entered the hospital room for the third day in a row. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor had become a familiar, albeit unsettling, lullaby.
The girl, still unnamed and unmoving, lay in the bed, a fragile figure against the stark white sheets.
Shikamaru placed a small vial on the bedside table. It contained a concoction his father, Shikaku Nara, had specially prepared – a potent blend of herbs known for its restorative properties, a secret weapon of the Nara clan.
Shikamaru still couldn't quite understand why his usually stoic father had readily agreed to help a complete stranger. Was it the girl's vulnerability? Or perhaps a flicker of the same curiosity that burned within Shikamaru himself?
He settled into the chair beside the bed, the silence broken only by the rhythmic beeping and the distant hum of the hospital. He replayed the conversation with his father in his head.
"Why, you ask?" Shikaku had said, his voice low and thoughtful. "Sometimes, Shikamaru, the most troublesome paths lead to the most unexpected discoveries. This girl, she's a puzzle, a mystery on Konoha's doorstep. Helping her might unravel something bigger than we can imagine."
Shikamaru pondered his father's words. Was it just Shikamaru's troublesome nature that made him want to solve this mystery, or was there something more to it?
A sense of responsibility, perhaps, a duty to protect those weaker than him. Or maybe, just maybe, a flicker of something akin to empathy for this girl who had fallen from the sky, literally and metaphorically, into his lap.
He sighed, running a hand through his spiky hair. Whatever the reason, he was in this now. He wouldn't abandon her, not until she opened her eyes and they could unravel the tangled threads of her story together. With a renewed determination, Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, prepared for another long vigil by the bedside, hoping that with each passing hour, the girl would finally awaken and break the silence with a whisper of her own.
Day 2.
Shikamaru trudged through the bustling streets of Konohagakure, the weight of unspoken secrets pressing down on him.
Two days had passed since he found the mysterious girl at the village gate, and the silence from the Hokage's office was deafening.
Lady Tsunade had issued a strict order – mum's the word about the whole ordeal. It was frustrating, a tangled mess of unanswered questions Shikamaru was forced to keep bottled up inside.
He spotted Choji Akimichi devouring a mountain of yakitori skewers by a familiar food stall. A small smile played on Shikamaru's lips. Maybe some barbecued distraction was exactly what he needed.
"Hey, Choji," Shikamaru greeted, sliding into the seat opposite his friend.
Choji, his mouth full of skewer, mumbled a greeting through a mouthful of chicken. Shikamaru chuckled, used to his friend's less-than-refined table manners.
"You look like you swallowed a cloud," Choji finally managed, wiping his greasy fingers on his shirt.
Shikamaru sighed, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Troublesome," he muttered, his usual catchphrase taking on a new meaning this time.
He couldn't tell Choji everything, not with the Hokage's orders hanging over his head. But sometimes, just talking, even without revealing the specifics, was a release valve for the pressure building inside him.
"What's got you so worked up?" Choji asked, his concern evident despite his usual carefree demeanor.
Shikamaru hesitated, then launched into a vague description of a complex mission, peppered with enough details to sound plausible without revealing the truth. He spoke of cryptic clues, hidden motives, and the frustration of being kept in the dark.
Choji listened patiently, occasionally nodding or offering a mumbled word of encouragement. As Shikamaru spoke, a sense of calm, albeit temporary, settled over him. Choji might not have all the answers, but his presence, his unwavering loyalty, was a balm to Shikamaru's troubled mind.
"Whatever it is, troublesome or not," Choji said finally, wiping his hands on his pants, "you know you can count on me, right?"
Shikamaru met his friend's gaze, a flicker of gratitude warming his chest.
"Yeah, I know," he said, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Choji. You always know how to lighten the load, even a little bit."
The next few days.
The monotonous hum of the hospital filled the room, a constant drone that Shikamaru had grown accustomed to over the past few days. He sat by the girl's bedside, his gaze fixed on her pale face.
Discouragement gnawed at him. How long could a person stay unconscious? Was there a chance she'd ever wake up?
Just as despair threatened to consume him, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
He blinked, focusing intently. There it was again – a miniscule twitch, a barely perceptible wiggle of the girl's index finger. Hope, a fragile bud, bloomed in Shikamaru's chest.
He wasn't sure if it was a dream, a trick of the light, but he couldn't ignore it. Throwing his usual calmness aside, he scrambled out of his chair, adrenaline jolting him awake.
"Nurse!" he barked, his voice sharp with urgency.
A young nurse bustled into the room, her brow furrowed in response to Shikamaru's uncharacteristic outburst.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Shikamaru pointed to the girl's hand, his voice trembling slightly.
"Her finger, I saw it move. Did you see that?"
The nurse leaned closer, her eyes scanning the girl's hand. A gasp escaped her lips.
"You're right! There is a faint tremor. This is a significant development!"
Shikamaru felt a surge of relief wash over him. It wasn't much, just a tiny twitch, but it was a sign. A sign that the girl was fighting, that she was slowly clawing her way back from the abyss.
The nurse immediately began checking the girl's vitals, her movements brisk and efficient. Shikamaru watched, a flicker of hope rekindled in his onyx eyes. This wasn't over. Not yet. The girl, whoever she was, was showing signs of recovery.
.
.
.
The sterile air of the hospital held a strange familiarity for Shikamaru. Usually, he'd avoid this place like the plague – too much disinfectant, too many beeps, the constant reminder of human frailty.
Yet, the past few days had seen him practically adopt the hospital room as his second home, all thanks to the mystery girl.
Curiosity, an emotion he wouldn't readily admit to, gnawed at him. He yearned to unravel the circumstances that brought her to Konoha, unconscious and with a tell-tale Akatsuki fragment.
So, when the nurse, her face etched with surprise, informed him that the girl was awake, Shikamaru practically sprinted to her bedside.
The girl herself was a stark contrast to the sterile surroundings. Bandages swathed most of her head, and wires snaked across her body, culminating in a clear tube that replaced her voice. Weakness radiated from her, yet her eyes, a startling shade of calming olive, held a flicker of defiance that mirrored his own.
Shikamaru stood awkwardly at the side, unsure how to proceed. He wasn't used to bedside manners, let alone those needed for someone as fragile as her. Finally, he mustered a sheepish wave.
A raspy cough erupted from the girl, followed by a choked word. Blood tinged the white tissues held to her mouth, and a flicker of panic crossed Shikamaru's face.
"Easy there," he said gently, his voice surprisingly soothing. "Don't try to talk yet. Just rest."
The girl's olive eyes held a flicker of understanding, and a faint smile, barely perceptible, played on her lips. Despite the bandages and tubes, Shikamaru could sense a spark of determination in her gaze – a kindred spirit trapped in a broken body.
The girl, still unnamed, remained an enigma. Communication was a slow, arduous process, a series of coughs and gestures painstakingly interpreted. Yet, a silent bond had formed between them. Shikamaru, ever the pragmatist, found himself drawn to her resilience, her quiet strength mirroring his own.
Asuma, ever the observant sensei, noticed the shift in his student. Shikamaru's usual nonchalance was tinged with a newfound urgency. He carried himself with a quiet purpose, his mind working overtime even as he cracked jokes and reassured the girl with gentle pats on her hand.
One afternoon, as Shikamaru snuck a particularly juicy apple past the watchful eye of a stern nurse, Asuma entered the room, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"Looks like your days of napping under the tree are on hold, Shikamaru," he teased.
Shikamaru shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Troublesome," he muttered, his voice laced with a newfound determination. "Because father keep asking me to give her fast recovery medicine everyday.. and I guess, I am starting to pray for the girl"
Asuma chuckled, his amusement genuine. He saw the spark of the Nara clan's loyalty burning bright in Shikamaru's eyes.
The long-awaited day.
Anticipation thrummed in Shikamaru's chest as he entered the hospital room that day. Today was the day they'd remove the breathing tube and some of the other monitoring equipment that had become a constant companion to the mysterious girl. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the silence of her bandaged face had weighed heavily on him.
The doctor, a kind-faced woman with gentle hands, carefully removed the tube. A sigh escaped the girl's lips, a sound almost foreign after weeks of silence.
Then, with a practiced ease, the doctor unwrapped the bandages around her head, revealing a face as strong and determined as Shikamaru had imagined.
Her hair, a vibrant shade of auburn, tumbled down her shoulders like a cascading waterfall. Her eyes, the same captivating olive, met his with a newfound clarity.
"Congratulations," the doctor chirped, her voice brimming with warmth. "You've made incredible progress. However, you'll still need some support while walking." She pointed to a pair of crutches propped against the wall.
Just then, the door creaked open, revealing the imposing figure of Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage. She wore a rare smile, a testament to the girl's recovery.
"Well, well," she boomed, her voice carrying authority. "I hear we have a new visitor in Konoha."
The girl, still a little shaky, tried to rise from the bed with the doctor's help. Tsunade stepped forward, her powerful hand gently guiding the girl back down.
"Don't worry about that just yet," Tsunade said, her voice softening. "You've been through a lot. Consider this place your home for now. We'll take good care of you here."
Tsunade then introduced herself with a wink. "I'm Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage. Now," she turned to Shikamaru, "perhaps you can introduce us properly."
Shikamaru, briefly thrown off guard by the Hokage's presence, cleared his throat. He turned to the girl, a gentle smile warming his features.
"Finally," he said, "a chance to have a proper conversation."
The girl, her voice still raspy but clear, offered a shy smile. "Thank you," she said, her voice like a melody. "For everything."
A warm feeling bloomed in Shikamaru's chest. Now, the silence would finally be broken.
"My name's Shikamaru," he said, "and don't worry. You're safe here."
The girl, her eyes sparkling with a newfound light, finally spoke the name he'd been waiting to hear.
"Hikari," she whispered. "My name is Hikari."
And with that, Shikamaru knew this was just the beginning of their story, a story that promised to be anything but troublesome. It might be filled with challenges and mysteries.
To be continued.