Summons
“Go to the darkest part of the woods,” Shikamaru muttered to himself. It was the only thing his father had said before kicking him out of the house, and Shikamaru had spent days wandering around his clan’s forest looking for such a vaguely defined location.
His foot caught on a tree root and he fell on his face. He decided to lay in the dirt for a while.
“This is annoying,” he said, spitting out a leaf. “I bet Naruto doesn’t have to do something stupid like this. I bet he’s doing some actual training. I should have left a shadow clone to check on him…”
Sighing, Shikamaru pushed himself up and moved on, shoving aside tangled shrubs and thin branches that tried to slap his face. If he knew what dark meant that would have helped.
He had never been this deep in the woods. The trees were ancient, gnarled things, growing so dense all sunlight was blocked. He hadn’t seen a deer for hours, maybe even a day or two. There was some light, otherwise he wouldn’t have a shadow at all. It was still beneath him, bleeding into the shadows of the forest of its own volition. He needed to find water. He wasn’t even sure he was in Konoha anymore. He’d been traveling in roughly one direction, and could make it back on his own. He hoped someone would come find him if he was at risk of missing the third exam. He wanted to see Naruto’s matches.
A twig snapped, and Shikamaru reflexively dropped into his shadow to hide.
Being inside of his own shadow came as naturally to Shikamaru as breathing. It was an empty space, a dark void that underlied the world. Inside was nothing, an absence. He couldn’t even feel himself, his only tether to reality the chakra residue he has left in the other world like a smudged fingerprint. It was easy to forget it was there, to stop thinking, to stop being. He had to press his consciousness against it, lest he become lost in the shadows.
It had happened a few times when he was very young, and while others may have feared slipping into the depths of some unknowable realm, Shikamaru found it rather peaceful. He imagined it was what a cloud felt like, drifting aimlessly through the sky and not really feeling anything at all. He could barely remember those incidents, knowing only that Something had gathered him back up and thrust him back into reality.
That Something tugged on his awareness, wishing to draw him deeper and deeper, not down but in.
Shikamaru ignored it. He had things to do, so he pressed that loose collection of thoughts and feelings he called himself to the meager trace of chakra left in the real world, recalling he had things called eyes with which to see, ears with which to hear, and set himself to observing what had disturbed the oppressive hush of the forest.
It was a deer. That in itself wasn’t unusual, had the deer not been the size of a rabbit. Shikamaru wasn’t even sure it could be called a deer, except it had tiny hooves and little antlers, and was probably the cutest thing he had seen in his entire life, barring a certain blond shinobi.
Shikamaru flowed back into the world, as silent as the shadows he dwelt in, not wishing to frighten the poor animal.
The deer moved with disturbing fluidity, his liquid black eyes focusing on Shikamaru unerringly.
“There you are,” the small deer said in a child-like voice. His mouth opened, but did no more than that, as if there was something else inside the deer puppeting him and projecting its voice. “You’re taking too long, so I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
“Ah, sorry,” Shikamaru said, following the strange little deer. “What’s your name?”
The deer looked over his shoulder. “Maitake.”
“Okay,” Shikamaru said. “I’m Nara Shikamaru.”
Maitake snorted. “I know.”
Shikamaru followed Maitake through an increasingly narrow path that twisted through the darkening woods.
“You’re so loud,” Maitake complained, moving so seamlessly through the forest that Shikamaru struggled to sense him at all. “But not as loud as others. That’s why she likes you.”
“She?”
Maitake didn’t answer him, instead stepping into the shadows between two curved trunks. Shikamaru paused, trying to see what was beyond the trees.
It was black, a black so deep it seemed to leech the color, the very substance, of everything around it. The two trees, which he now saw were growing from entwined roots, bent around this strange void. He was staring into an abyss.
Maitake poked his head out, as if coming up for air. The darkness parted around him.
“Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” Shikamaru said, reaching his hand out. His fingertips met with resistance and his entire arm went numb. He snatched it back, the eerie black substance clinging to him like glue. He shook droplets from his hand until his blood rushed painfully back to its place.
Experimentally, he stretched his shadow out. The bizarre portal absorbed it, forcing Shikamaru to stumble forward, chasing after it as his chakra lurched. His body was pulled inexorably through the dark barrier, his heart beating faster than a bird’s. There was an infinite moment of horrendous, incomprehensible pain, and then he remembered nothing.
Awareness came to Shikamaru in fits and starts. His body was immensely cold, and something hard and sharp was working agonizing life back into his limbs.
“The first time is always the hardest,” a deep, melodic voice said.
Shikamaru forced his eyes open, struggling against the bone-deep exhaustion that threatened to drag him back under.
The sight was as breathtaking as it was confusing. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out how he was floating in the night sky when he could feel solid ground beneath him. He was still being insistently prodded, and it hurt, so he knew he was alive and not a cloud as he sometimes wished. And the stars were moving, bright and blurry spots of yellow and green floating around, rotating in some celestial dance he struggled to comprehend.
Shikamaru blinked a few times, clearing his vision, and the stars resolved into fireflies. The dark shapes obscuring them were deer. At least, they were vaguely deer-shaped. Some were small with thin legs and dainty hooves, like Maitake. Others looked like the militant deer his clan tended.
The one nudging him, the one who had spoken, was massive, easily the largest animal Shikamaru had ever seen, with high shoulders and a horse-like face. She had big ears, and dark brown fur with legs that looked dipped in ink.
“Where am I?” Shikamaru asked, trying to sit up. “Who are you?”
“My name is Kameko,” she said. Shikamaru wanted to ask what kind of deer she was, but didn’t want to be rude. “You’re in Tasogare Forest, the realm of the eien no shika.”
“Is there a way to go back?”
Maitake stepped forward. “Obviously, you foolish child. We are in the spirit realm, though the separation of our worlds is far less defined in the part of the forest you were lost in.”
“So oyaji sent me here on purpose,” Shikamaru said. “Are you all summons?”
The huge deer above him nodded. “We have long had a contract with the Nara clan, who have for centuries guarded our forests and our brethren. Though something else has laid claim to you, such things are not mutually exclusive.”
Maitake snorted. “It can have him in the end. See how his shadow moves?”
Kameko tossed her head. “Let’s get you up, little one. There’s someone you’ve kept waiting.”
Shikamaru rose shakily to his feet, supporting himself on Kameko’s flank. “I’m sorry if I’m being rude,” he said, “but what kind of deer are you?”
“I’m a moose,” she said. “We don’t live in your lands. It’s debatable whether we live at all. Maitake is a mouse-deer.”
Shikamaru nodded, walking slowly beside Kameko, relying on her solid presence to guide him. The other deer had disappeared into the trees. They were strange trees, even to someone who had grown up among the remnants of Shodai’s Mokuton. These trees were slender and smooth barked, with leaves of deep emerald green that reflected the glow of the fireflies. He could see the sky through the twisting branches above him, and saw that it was night. The moon was a silver crescent slicing through a field of stars so close Shikamaru felt as if he could reach out and touch them.
The ground was loamy, his steps leaving faint prints in the rich soil. Tall silver-green grasses and white flowers that glowed with moonlight swayed in a gentle breeze. Fireflies gave a soft cast to the darkness, their intermittent glow lighting their path. It was lovely in a quiet, ponderous way. For all of his training, Shikamaru felt rough and ungainly in such an elegant place. The thirst and hunger that had clawed at him were a distant memory. He had been swept into a dream.
The path wound through the trees, unfamiliar constellations swirling in the sky. Shikamaru didn’t know where he was going or why he was here, and when they reached a starlit meadow the frayed ends of his rationality completely unraveled.
The meadow was wider than his mind could process, a field of grass and fragrant flowers on delicate stems. Moths and fireflies fluttered low to the ground, chasing each other in some endless game. These things Shikamaru could give context to. He recognized them. As he did the trees, the deer, the stars and moon.
Then he lifted his eyes and everything stopped. He was speechless, bewildered at what could only be described as an anomaly.
The creature, the being, was huge. Truly gargantuan. At rest, it towered over the trees ringing the meadow His mind latched onto that first coherent thought. The sheer size of the being. His other observations came in piecemeal. Black scales, darker than the deepest shadow. A single, magnificent antler. Red eyes like the burning heart of a fire. A crackling mane of lightning, the same fur arcing down the legs, a tail like a thundercloud. The being yawned, exposing rows of sharp teeth. She raised a massive leg, scratching her side with a cloven hoof.
Kameko and Maitake knelt on their forelegs. Shikamaru dropped to his knees and bowed.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
The voice resounded through him, lilting and musical, a forgotten song that pressed at the folds of his memory.
“Yes, Kirin-sama.”
Shikamaru swallowed drily, chancing a look at the Kirin. She smiled at him, a wolf’s smile. He felt the volcanic heat of her breath caress his cheek.
Shikamaru was terrified.
“It has been too long since a son of the Nara clan has sought us out,” the Kirin said. “Rise, child. We have many things to discuss.”
The thing about being friends with the monster inside of oneself was that it was a very bad idea to let others know. Naruto hadn’t even told Shikamaru, and not because the kyuubi was supposed to be an S-rank secret. It was just hard to explain. He knew Kurama, better than he knew anyone else, and Kurama knew all of him. He knew it wasn’t Kurama’s fault, none of it. He had been forced to attack Konoha. Naruto’s father had killed more people in the Third War than had died in the kyuubi attack. Kurama would have been a hero had he been pointed in any other direction.
Naruto knew Shikamaru wouldn’t care. He would likely find it interesting. He would accept Kurama as an individual, as a victim, as Naruto’s friend. Naruto, however, was just a little worried about what Shikamaru might do to the village should he learn the truth.
He glanced into the forest, frowning thoughtfully.
Rocks were digging into his back, so Naruto wriggled into a more comfortable position. Jiraiya’s idea of training the kyuubi chakra was for Naruto to exhaust himself of his normal chakra, over and over again. He hadn’t taken into account exactly how much chakra Naruto naturally had. He had let Naruto sign the toad contract, but Naruto kept summoning tadpoles. He didn’t trust Jiraiya at all, didn’t trust he would run back and tell the Hokage about any new skills he manifested. Hearing Jiraiya pull quotes out of his file had reminded Naruto how closely he was watched. How interested Konoha was in how her tool performed.
Naruto sat up and stumbled to the river. He lowered himself into the cool, shallow water and sighed. It had been a week, and he knew he needed to start showing progress. He knew his mother hadn’t gone through training to control the kyuubi. Why it was so important for Naruto to learn how was information he wasn’t privy to. In any case, he was capable of channeling Kurama’s chakra. He didn’t need to force it out. He simply needed to ask.
The good thing about this kind of training was he could leave shadow clones to do it while he meditated. Inside of his seal he could talk to Kurama and do some actual training. Training in pure chakra manipulation. Training his Adamantine Chains.
“Your boredom bores me,” Kurama said.
Naruto sat down in front of his cage, patting one of his massive claws in consolation. There had been few changes in Kurama’s environment over the years. Naruto couldn’t do much with the seal in place, and he had been far too scared to mess with it. It was insanely complicated, and while Kurama knew how it worked—Kushina had known it, after all—there was little either could do without the key. He was still behind bars, still in a dim basement, but at least it wasn’t wet.
“Sorry,” Naruto said. “I wish he would teach me some other techniques. He’d rather do research.”
Kurama snorted, ruffling Naruto’s hair. “Your parents named you after a character in his first book.”
“They did not,” Naruto said, sitting up.
“They did.”
Naruto grabbed his head. “They had shitty taste in friends. Were my parents actually stupid?”
“About some things,” Kurama said. “Yondaime wanted you to be treated like a hero.”
Naruto snorted. “Yeah. Great fucking job, everyone, honoring tou-chan’s last wishes.”
“Start practicing, kid,” Kurama said, setting his huge head on his paws. “Shape manipulation requires visualization. Start thinking about chains.”
He tapped Naruto in the chest with his claw. “It comes from here, the Gate of Pain.”
“I know.”
“Kushina mastered this before I was sealed in her.”
“I know!” Naruto growled.
“Chains are not just for restraint,” Kurama said.
Naruto flinched. He knew part of his struggle with the technique was that Kurama had been sealed inside of his mother using it, had chains stabbed through him for over a decade. Naruto knew they could be used for other, less torturous things. He could walk around like a spider. That would be fun.
Something heavy dropped to the floor behind him. Startled, Naruto turned around and saw a few thick links of a golden-yellow chain piled on the ground.
“I did it,” he whispered. “I actually did it!”
Kurama opened one eye. “Good job, Naruto. That’s the first step, probably. Now try moving it around.”
Naruto was barely listening, dancing around so he could hear the satisfying click of chain links being knocked together. He could actually do it!
He was an Uzumaki, after all.
After hours of practicing with his chain—one was his self-assigned limit for now, and it took all of his concentration to flop it around—Naruto was ejected from his sealspace when he was unceremoniously dumped onto a pile of rocks.
“Are you an idiot?” Jiraiya demanded, looking down at him with disappointment. “You passed out in the water!”
“Heh, sorry,” Naruto said, rubbing the back of his neck. He decided to throw Jiraiya a bone and make an actual attempt at summoning. He bit his thumb and performed the hand signs. “Check this out. Kuchiyose no jutsu!”
He slammed his hand to the ground, and when he pulled it back there was a small, dark orange toad. He had purple markings around his mouth and eyes, and a little blue coat.
“Yo,” the toad said.
“Hey, I’m Naruto. What’s your name?”
“Gamakichi. You’re the new summoner?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” Gamakichi said, jumping onto Naruto’s head. “You got any snacks?”
Jiraiya gaped at the two of them.
“What?” Naruto asked. “You wanted me to summon a toad. He’s a toad. And he wants snacks.”
“I was expecting something bigger,” Jiraiya said. “You need to use more chakra than that.”
“He’s pretty big for a toad,” Naruto said, crossing his arms. “Don’t insult him.”
Gamakichi patted his head. “You’re a good kid. I like you. I’d like you more if you gave me snacks. I might even play with you.”
“It’s training,” Naruto said, walking away from Jiraiya. “We need to go to town to get food. Ero-sennin’s paying.”
“You really call him that? I can’t wait to tell oyaji.”
Naruto smiled. “You’re from Mount Myoboku, right? What’s it like?”