When Time Forgot
The Konohagakure sun cast a warm glow on the bustling village, a stark contrast to the chilling memory Hikari held of collapsing near the very same gates years ago. A younger Shikamaru, burdened with worry yet surprisingly gentle, had been the first face she saw when she regained consciousness.
Their bond blossomed despite the unusual circumstances. Because of the mysteries surrounding Hikari's past, she was entrusted to the legendary Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage.
While Shikamaru was thrust into the demanding world of missions, honing his skills to become a Jonin, Hikari underwent a different kind of training under Tsunade's watchful eye.
Years flowed like the river. Tsunade, ever-observant, felt Hikari was ready to spread her wings.
"You've proven your loyalty, little sparrow," Tsunade said with a sly smile.
"Now, about Shikamaru..." Tsunade trailed off, expecting questions about her childhood friend.
But Hikari surprised her.
"I wouldn't want to be a bother," she said softly. "Besides, he hasn't asked about me either, has he?"
Tsunade sighed. Was this stubbornness or something deeper? Perhaps both.
"Here," she said, handing Hikari a key.
"A gift for your dedication." Before Hikari could question, Tsunade continued, "This little apartment isn't much, but it's yours. Officially, you're a resident now."
Hikari's eyes welled up. The years of isolation, the relentless training, all culminated in this moment. Overwhelmed, she pulled Tsunade and even the ever-stoic Shizune into a tight hug. Relief and a spark of hope flickered in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, a new chapter could begin.
"Just don't be late for your first patient rounds, 'resident' Hikari," Tsunade chuckled, nudging her with a smile. "We still need a capable nurse around here, you know."
Hikari straightened, a determined glint in her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, Hokage-sama!" she said, her voice, though still soft, held a newfound strength.
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The news crashed into Konohagakure like a rogue jutsu, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Asuma Sarutobi, beloved Jonin, mentor to Shikamaru and countless others, was confirmed dead. The mission to neutralize the Akatsuki members, Hidan and Kakuzu, had turned into a tragedy for the village, especially for the Sarutobi clan.
Hikari, having just finished her rounds as the newly-minted Konoha nurse, felt a pang of grief pierce through the bubble of happiness she'd built.
Asuma-sensei, she remembered, the kind man who'd occasionally spar with Shikamaru while she was still recuperating under Tsunade's care. He’d always had a gentle smile and a way of putting even the most anxious patients at ease.
Driven by a sense of duty and a simmering anger she couldn't quite explain, Hikari sought out Tsunade.
"Hokage-sama," Hikari began, her voice tight, "I heard about Asuma-sensei. I wanted to…" she trailed off, struggling to articulate the jumble of emotions within her.
"Pay your respects?" Tsunade finished, her gaze filled with understanding. "Of course, Hikari. Asuma would have appreciated it."
The weight of Tsunade's words settled on Hikari. A sense of urgency gnawed at her. She didn't just want to pay respects; she needed to.
At the funeral, the air hung heavy with grief. Ino and Choji, their eyes red-rimmed, exchanged worried glances.
Shikamaru, Asuma's closest student, was conspicuously absent. As the ceremony progressed and the sun began its descent, casting long shadows on the mourners,
Hikari's unease morphed into a potent mix of anger and concern.
"Where is he?" she thought, her fists clenching. "How could he not be here?"
Tsunade and Shizune exchanged a silent look, sensing the turmoil brewing within Hikari. They knew better than to intervene. Hikari needed her own way to deal with this – with whatever connection she felt to Asuma and, perhaps more importantly, to the missing Shikamaru.
The ceremony ended, leaving behind a desolate silence. Hikari stood there, her gaze fixed on the freshly turned earth, a silent promise hanging in the air. She would find Shikamaru. And when she did, she'd have some very pointed questions.
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Despair gnawed at Hikari as night descended upon Konohagakure. Hours had bled into one another as she scoured the village, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Just when she was about to give up, a flicker of movement in the distance caught her eye.
Under a lamppost, casting a long, lonely shadow, walked a figure hunched over in defeat. As she drew closer, the familiar mop of spiky hair confirmed her suspicions – it was Shikamaru. His shoulders slumped, every step heavy with grief, he looked like a lost soul.
Tears welled up in Hikari's eyes, a mix of relief and frustration. Relief that she had finally found him, frustration at his self-imposed isolation. She wanted to rush to him, to envelop him in a hug and chase away the pain.
But logic held her back. Years had passed, and Shikamaru might not even recognize her. This wasn't a hospital room, and she wasn't the same shy girl with auburn hair. She was a young woman, a shinobi with a purpose.
Taking a deep breath, she called out, "Finally decided to crawl out of your shell?"
Her voice, though laced with forced calmness, startled Shikamaru. He whirled around, his eyes blazing with anger.
"Did you just.. talk to me?" Hikari didn't answer his question "Who are you?" he growled, his voice hoarse from unshed tears. "And how dare you speak to me like that!"
Even in his rage, a flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes. It was the inflection, the underlying concern. Hikari felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps...
She didn't move closer, maintaining a safe distance.
"You must be hurting," she said softly. "But hiding won't bring Asuma-sensei back."
The anger subsided, replaced by a dull ache in his eyes.
"Easy for you to say," he said, his voice low. "You don't know anything about it."
"Maybe not everything," Hikari replied, her voice a quiet murmur. "But I do know that Asuma-sensei wouldn't want you to be like this."
Shikamaru squinted at her, a spark of curiosity replacing the anger.
"And who are you," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "to tell me what Asuma-sensei would have wanted?"
There it was. The chance she was waiting for. Hikari took another deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Someone who cares," she said simply.
"Someone who understands loss, even if the circumstances are different."
Shikamaru approached her slowly, scrutinizing her face in the dim light.
"You're wrong," he said, his voice emotionless. "That's why I never liked girls. They just don't get it."
Hikari's heart sank. He truly didn't remember. But she wouldn't give up.
"Perhaps you're right," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
"But maybe… maybe one day you'll understand. And when that day comes, I hope you'll remember to live, to honor Asuma-sensei's memory the way he would have wanted you to."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Shikamaru standing alone, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. As she disappeared into the night, a tear escaped her eye, tracing a warm path down her cheek.
She had planted a seed of hope, a reminder of the past, and a silent plea for the boy who held a piece of her heart to one day remember. The road to Shikamaru's acceptance would be long and arduous, but Hikari, fueled by a love that transcended time and circumstance, was determined to walk it with him, one step at a time.
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Exhaustion clung to Shikamaru like a second skin. His victory against Hidan and Kakuzu was a bittersweet symphony – revenge for Asuma finally served, tinged with the sorrow of his mentor's absence. Yet, as he surveyed the weary faces of his comrades, a new fire ignited within him.
The young faces, kids, they were the future of Konoha, the precious king pieces on the shogi board Asuma had patiently taught him. His mentor's life may have been cruelly cut short, but Shikamaru wouldn't let his purpose die.
He would become the guardian rook, protecting the new generation with the same unwavering strategy Asuma had instilled in him.
Shikamaru returned to Konoha a hero, but the accolades held little weight. He spent his days meticulously analyzing potential threats, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and contingency plans.
He pushed himself to new heights, mastering advanced shadow manipulation techniques that would allow him to shield not just himself, but his entire team.
He took Naruto under his wing, recognizing the raw potential that mirrored Asuma's boisterous spirit. Shikamaru instilled in Naruto the importance of strategy, of thinking several moves ahead like a seasoned shogi player. He saw the fire in Naruto's eyes, the same burning desire to protect the village that Asuma had nurtured.
He observed Choji and Ino, his teammates since they were genins, understanding their strengths and weaknesses.
He developed a silent communication system, a series of hand signals that allowed them to coordinate attacks and maneuvers with fluid precision.
Their unwavering loyalty and teamwork reminded him of the camaraderie he shared with Asuma and his old team.
Shikamaru's leadership wasn't flashy. He didn't bellow orders or demand blind obedience. He inspired through quiet confidence and strategic brilliance. He understood that trust and clear communication were the cornerstones of a successful team, just like the well-coordinated moves of a winning shogi game.
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Years passed, and the new generation blossomed.
Naruto became Hokage, a testament to Shikamaru's guidance. Looking at him, Shikamaru saw not just his comrade, but the embodiment of Asuma's legacy.
One day, while contemplating a shogi board under the shade of his favorite tree, a familiar laugh echoed in the air. Asuma's warm smile materialized before him, a ghost of a smile, yet full of pride.
"Troublesome, Shikamaru," he chuckled, "but not bad. You did well."
Shikamaru, tears blurring his vision, nodded. He had protected the king pieces, honored Asuma's memory, and secured the future of Konoha. And in that quiet moment, under the shade of the tree, he finally felt a flicker of peace.
He had played the game flawlessly, a worthy successor to the man who taught him everything he knew.
The king was safe.
To be continued.