The Limit Does Exist
Naruto blinked, frowning in stages until his mouth was completely concave. He couldn’t read what was on the screen.
He raised a hand and rubbed his eyes before taking a second look. He could read the words in Shikamaru’s report, just not understand them.
Huh.
Last time he checked, words actually made sense—they meant something. But right this moment, it seemed like his brain had exited the building. How was any of that fair? Much less, how was that even possible?
He sighed.
He had to stop talking to himself when he was alone, tired, smelling of ink, and in desperate need of a full body massage. Maybe Lee would drop by and give him some--
That wasn’t right. He tended to ramble when he wasn’t thinking right.
He returned to his computer. He tried to piece together what he was sure of:
Sunagakure was working on a trade agreement with Konoha on iron ore. The terms of agreement stated that the contract would be enforced for an initial period of three years. Gaara would personally oversee Suna’s cooperation. The Kazekage was coming to Konoha for the official memorandum of agreement to be signed.
Something sounded redundant but he couldn’t be sure what exactly and why.
What else was there? Naruto shook his head in an attempt to clear it.
Everything hurt. He tried to push forward.
No dice. That was as far as he was going to get.
The further down Naruto scanned the document, the more his eyes seemed to want to burn: following the short, snappy sentences caused his vision, which had been turning bad since all of one hour ago, to become completely blurred. That couldn’t be good.
Nothing was sinking in as well. Naruto was sure he read a part about “iron deposits” and “processing plants,” but couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why that was important.
And that was crazy. He had been trying to read everything (it was twenty damn pages long), and he was only at (already) page ten. He was never going to be smart or clever, but damn, Jiraiya-Sensei had taught him enough to be able to understand letters when they were strung together.
Which meant: He was now currently spent.
He took both hands off his keyboard and rubbed his eyes with his palms. He ended up sinking his face into them. The darkness was soothing.
Simple as despair always was, the fury of his temples, which had been only been aching since all of a while back, rode into the scene, pounding with intensity, causing him to hiss.
He felt hollowed out, almost like his chakra had been depleted beyond belief, and with Kurama having had his back for more than ten years, this was not just impossible, but improbable.
A quiet knock brought him back after a few minutes and he looked up into the sharp, sympathetic eyes of Shikamaru.
“Oy.”
“What?”
He hadn’t even noticed that the man had already walked in and was standing less than a meter from his desk. Damn, even a kid could possibly one-up him.
He let out a moan, but stifled it just as he realized what the past owners of his seat might say. He’d bet Tobirama would chew him out for being so soft.
“You should go home. Hinata and the kids are waiting.”
Naruto said nothing. He deliberately avoided his friend’s eyes. Instead, he gave a small, general nod and looked back at his monitor, his frown deepening. He resumed typing, soft clicks punctuating the silence. He kept glancing back at the report he was supposed to have grasped. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered if Shikamaru knew he hadn’t read the entire report yet.
He wished he could angle the screen away from Shikamaru (it was diagonal to where his adviser stood), but decided not to.
That would be too obvious.
“You’ve skipped dinner. Again.”
Patience almost non-existent from fatigue, Naruto did not have the energy to deflect. Or take a verbal beatdown.
“I did eat,” the Hokage muttered, nodding at a few cups of instant ramen. “It’s not Ichiraku, but it does the job.” Trying to look unbothered, he chuckled, still not looking away from the computer. “Don’t look so grim.”
It was Shikamaru’s turn to frown, his voice flat and relentless. “I counted them. There were six.”
Naruto finally looked up. “Huh?”
“Six. Yesterday.”
He looked to his side. There were, indeed, still six cups, heaped one on top of the other, on the side of his table.
“You’re too observant,” Naruto acquiesced lightly, smiling, before going back to work. “I paid the right guy.”
Shikamaru shook his head, but his eyes never left Naruto’s face. He knew how he could pressure him: staring and loads of silence.
Naruto’s smile became wan. “Gaara’s coming tomorrow. I was too preoccupied with other things the last few days.” He swallowed. “My fault. Work’s not going to solve itself. I wish I had two sets of hands---oh wait, I…”
His vision flickered, and he fell silent.
Shikamaru put a hand out and shook his shoulder: “Oy, are you all right?” His eyebrows tightened like thunderbolts.
Naruto responded with a chuckle. “Yeah. I remembered I even have four sets. Of hands. I can even do more, hahaha. But the toll on my body would be unbearable. Even with Kurama, I don’t like it.”
Shikamaru withdrew his arms and folded them over his chest. “Sure.” He volunteered this stiffly, and Naruto knew he was in trouble. Scrolling through the report, he willed himself to forget about what just happened. He squinted at the screen.
And then, on cue, his left eyelid started to shudder, before ultimately spasming.
He blinked. “I can’t face the Kazekage and not know what to talk about. This has been in the pipeline for months. He’ll get on my case. Not to mention, you will too. For looking and sounding like a moron.”
Shikamaru bit down on his lip. “Gaara, you mean.”
To which Naruto nodded. “Isn’t that what I said? What’s this about ‘pipelines’ again?”
It was so hard to be a friend and a political adviser to the same friend.
Some days, Shikamaru dug in his heels and watched the blond spread himself too thin. There were things that had to be done, concerns that had to be taken cared of. But today, he was tired, tired of watching Naruto run himself into the ground.
The last few weeks had been hectic: business ventures, security concerns, training exercises with Iwa and a slew of letters from the Mizukage. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, Shikamaru was scared, and with good reason as well. Jinchuriki or not, even with the Kyuubi to supplement his chakra, and the man’s insane ability to keep pushing until he broke through, Shikamaru was wary that Naruto was driving himself to an early grave.
Naruto wasn’t human in the way most of them were, but Shikamaru knew no one was exempt from needing sleep and having time to recharge; he himself had been feeling crushed after nonstop work, and yet his fatigue was nothing compared to that encountered by a kage. The Uzumakis had tremendous chakra reserves and this was a godsend for someone in his position, but Naruto was flesh and blood like the rest of them. He was playing with fire and close to abusing his limits if he hadn’t already. No, Shikamaru thought, he had long gotten there.
Shikamaru knew the signs of a life falling into shambles. It was clear as day even in his own home: Shikadai was growing a little too distant from him, which was saying something because as a child, Shikamaru liked keeping people at arm’s length. The point was that he had noticed. And he did not like it. Not one bit.
He sighed. It was different now.
The chuunin had all grown up. They were adults. They were parents. They became different people, although in many different aspects, they remained the same people at heart. Naruto could be too closed off now, despite his mile-a-minute mouth in the past. He was developing this nasty habit of not saying anything or not wanting to say anything when he ought to or whenever he wanted to. Whenever he compared Now Naruto to Then Naruto, it was particularly unnerving some days. The only caveat was that maybe that was because Naruto tended to think a lot more these days—he had a village to govern and look out for after all. With responsibility comes tact, and with tact comes silence. Maybe.
The last Shikamaru had seen of Boruto, the kid did not look the least bit happy with his Pop. Little Himawari always seemed to want to spend time with her dad, but chose instead to hide behind her mother’s skirts. Her eyes were as blue as her father’s and they reflected the painful truth: a deep longing to spend time with a parent, promises that were rarely kept, and a raw confusion that she tried very hard but failed to hide.
Shikamaru braced his arms closer to his body, his forehead heavy and creasing with concern. “Your family needs you too, you know. The one you built for yourself. I think Neji would have already had words with you by this point.”
Sensing Naruto had gone stock still, he added, looking away, “Temari gives me flak. It isn’t as bad as yours. Or maybe it’s worse because Hinata never says anything. She understands. She's been so patient, that's been her trademark from the start. But don’t get comfortable with the fact that she accepts the short end of the stick. She wants a part of you. At home. And your kids do, as well.”
Shikamaru turned away. The typing had stopped. He wondered what was going through Naruto’s head.
“There are days I wonder if he would be happy with the life we’ve built for ourselves. I sometimes wish he would have had this opportunity, too. He deserved it more than anyone. I would have wanted that for him.”
Shikamaru kept his eyes on the carpet and nodded. “And he knows that.”
Overlooking the office, the Hokage monument glowed through the panoramic windows, the deeply etched outlines of Sarutobi and Tsunade, Minato and Kakashi standing out starkly against the darkness.
Naruto had had flood lights installed a few months ago. The masons had come to his office to discuss the installation of his own visage at around the same time, but he had been too busy dealing with local and international matters. Or he was just projecting a mixture of minute horror, surprise, and a whole lot of feeling modest.
It was already a given: he was always busy. He had mountains of paperwork to go through and respond to that week, like always. That, and Shikamaru took the hint that almost toppling his computer to the floor and the deep flush across fair cheeks meant that it was a little too soon.
It was a little too soon. Everything was, for all of them. Yet, it was upon them.
Shikamaru looked at the lone cloud in the sky from his vantage point. Azuma, his dad, Ino and Choji's fathers, they had all departed from this earth, and this was his life now.
There were bad days, days when they did not know what they were doing and which made them feel uncertain, but those came and went. There were also good days, although he did not make a habit of counting or remembering them. A political adviser was more used to counting catastrophes and calamities and making sure Konohagakure got past each and every one.
He wasn’t complaining. He knew what he would be in for the moment he entered the hokage’s office. He was prepared. He had excelled at shogi, even if he did not like it. Or said that he didn’t.
It was being a father and husband and friend and adviser all at once that unnerved him. And it was being a father and husband and friend and hokage that pulled at the blond from all sides.
More or less.
“Naruto?”
He looked around. He was surprised to find two, very blue eyes boring into his own. His friend's smile was gentle, but brilliant, as it always was when he was nostalgic about something. “How did that happen?”
“What?”
“You becoming this instant family and child therapist? I’ve been spending all this time with you and I never knew you acquired another skill set. Aren’t you tired yet?” He chuckled. “Being a genius must suck.”
Shikamaru’s eyes narrowed. “If it helps sort you out, then no matter.”
Then, it finally sank in and: “Therapist? Mendokusai, the hell I am—“ He felt hot around the collar. “Don’t you try and change the subject. I am NOT letting your skirt the issue here.”
Naruto had picked the perfect opportunity to turn the tables on him. Now, he was sure he too was badly in need of some time off. Shikamaru tried very hard not to take out a cigarette and smoke on the spot (he still had Asuma’s lighter, and he bought cigarettes out of habit even though he never smoked).
When Shikamaru looked at him closely, he saw that Naruto looked highly amused. The blond pressed “Print,” took the freshly processed paper out, and put it in a folder.
“I hate you.” Shikamaru grumbled.
“I love you too, Shika.”
“Fuck.” Shikamaru rummaged through his pocket and took out the cigarette case and lighter anyway. He turned away and put one stick between his lips.
Naruto leant back in his chair, his chin resting in his palm and closed his eyes, trying to look smug. “I do know how to listen. Hard not to with a pain in the ass for an adviser.”
Shikamaru felt a certain relief blossom in his chest, but it was short-lived. He pulled the cigarette out and slowly turned to face him. “Bigger ass for a boss.” He crumpled the cigarette and pocketed it.
“Like I said, I love you too, hun.”
Shikamaru lowered his chin a fraction to stare at him. “Why’d I ever come work for you. Fuck me.”
“I told you. I don’t swing that way. But well, I guess it depends on the proposition. Maybe when Hinata won’t kill me.”Naruto chuckled again, but the blond’s flimsy bravado collapsed and melted into a grimace of fatigue that Shikamaru could not miss. Those bright eyes closed.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow as the blond tried desperately not to give himself away.
Naruto hurried to regain his composure, laughing like an idiot the way he did back when they were genin.
Shikamaru waited with bated breath.
And was not disappointed.
Those blue eyes opened and met Shikamaru’s brown. A sheepish look stole over his friend’s face.
“You’re right. I mean, you’re rarely ever wrong…" A pause. "I’m working on it.” Naruto fell silent.
He picked up the framed photo of his family, the only one on his desk, and gave it a sad, searching look. “They didn’t sign up for this. I just…I never really had…”
He let out a breath. “Being a parent is hard when you never saw one to learn from at home.” He twisted his features into an awkward reaction that reminded Shikamaru of a baboon: “No one ever said it would be this hard.” He pouted. “I mean Iruka-Sensei and Kakashi-Sensei have been great, but we never lived in the same house or had to put up with who got to hold the remote or draw ground rules concerning who got to eat all of the instant ramen.”
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “I follow, but don’t care, so whatever. You’re evading.”
“I’m the one who doesn’t follow. Must be all those additives in my brain. Damn, while do they make cup ramen so damn good anyway?”
“To leech money from people like you who live off of salt, colorings, and glorified bits of dehydrated fish cake.”
Shikamaru placed his arms on his friend’s desk so that they were holding him up.
He couldn’t hold the blond’s stare on some days, but on others, like today, it was not only going to be a no-brainer, it was going to be deeply necessary.
It made him uncomfortable when Naruto talked like this: it made his friend appear naked and bare to him, exposed, with no place to hide. It was Naruto’s norm to try too hard and to hide behind a veneer of his past buffoonery (which most times, no longer worked, he was too big and tall for that now). But every so often, his past would crop up and it would make Shikamaru regret the things that he had and didn’t think twice about, just expecting those things and people to be there and be that way. His mother and the Fourth had left him to get through life as an orphan. How was that shit easy?
No, he never had it easy. Not since the moment he had been born. And when Naruto talked about it, Shikamaru did not feel pity for him, just a sense of regret and wanting to protect what Naruto would call important in this life. And right now, while that meant the village, it also meant his family. So, his sanity and wellbeing as well.
So today, Shikamaru would have to play the Ultimate Adviser Card. And say it hard and plain. And not take no for an answer.
Even when he understood. Well, sort of. No way was he admitting that out loud. Or maybe, just a bit.
“I know. I’m having a hard time too. Sons are complicated and wives are…tricky.” He shook his head. “Please don’t tell Temari that I said that.”
Naruto’s eyes were warm and soft. “Of course. Until I require blackmail material, we’re all good.”
Clicking his tongue, Shikamaru closed his eyes and listened to the soft, short laughter that came from his friend, the shuffling of papers tickling his ears. A set of wheels moved backward and Naruto got out of his chair.
Something immediately pulled Shikamaru out of that relaxed moment: a heavy thud, something hard colliding with wood, and a low groan.
The atmosphere switched with immediacy to cold and not at all good.
Shikamaru’s eyes snapped open, his heart teleporting to his throat.
Naruto was on his knees, the top of his head emerging from the other side of the table.
Shikamaru swore beneath his breath.
The blond had made to get up and hand him a folder but for some reason, his legs had given way. He looked disoriented.
Naruto was attempting to inspect his right temple; it was bleeding. The blond hair above Naruto’s right ear was stained red, coating his bandaged fingers with each prodding gesture. His eyes were on the carpet. He was breathing heavily.
Shikamaru made to hurry to his side, but Naruto raised his left hand. Stay put. His right hand covering the damage, Naruto gingerly found his footing and got back up. He picked up the folder and offered it to him.
He met Shikamaru’s eyes. “Here. I’ve made a draft for the speech tomorrow. It's trash, but it's all I could come up with. Look through it. I’m not sure it’s passable.”
Shikamaru stared at him, before staring at the folder, then staring back at Naruto. “I don’t think so.”
“Take it. Please. Don’t make me ask.” He sat back in his chair, all the color having drained from his face.
Shikamaru glared at him before snatching the folder with extreme force. The moment his skin came into contact with cardboard however, his grip softened, and a moment later, he set it down on the table.
He gave the Hokage a stern look. “Let me take a look at that.”
Heart thundering in his chest, he inspected the damage. “How are you feeling? What exactly happened?” He swore again. “Damn it, I was right on the money all along. That’s it. No more for tonight. That’s it.” He said it all in one breath, panic rocketing through his blood.
Naruto did not answer, simply closing his eyes, trying to breathe slowly and evenly. Shikamaru crossed over to one of the cabinet and unearthed a first aid kit, appearing thoroughly put out. He gave a small shudder, before walking back where his friend sat. “She’ll have me murdered in my bed, your wife.”
Naruto scoffed at the remark, or rather tried. “She has a name you know. Hinata’ll rip you a new one. Hahaha.”
“Can you stand?”
Naruto gripped Shikamaru’s shoulder and allowed himself to be led to a plush sofa. This piece of furniture was the only couple of square feet in his office where he could rest, and Shikamaru felt marginally better as he helped him lie down.
A gentle sizzling sound erupted and the blond sighed tiredly as the edges of the gash knitted together. “Pain’s gone.” Naruto dared to chance a look at him. “You won’t need that,” referring to the box in his hands.
Shikamaru was different shades of annoyed and terrified out of his wits. “You don’t eat, barely sleep, and you really think you can keep this up? Mendokusai, you're going to be the death of me."
It took Naruto a while to answer. His head was swimming. “I’ve exceeded expectations before.”
“Wise ass.”
“Pain in this wise ass’ butt.”
Shikamaru’s voice darkened. “Naruto, I’ll get Sakura.”
“There’s no need.”
“Tell me how you fell.”
Silence.
Then: “You saw the whole thing. I stumbled getting up."
“You know that’s a lie.”
“What?”
“You passed out for a bit.”
Naruto ran some fingers though his hair. He was looking at the picture on his desk. He then looked at his hands, one of them stained red.
After a beat: “Do you think we can end this now?”
Shikamaru shook his head. “Don’t start. You’re too pale. That tan of yours isn’t doing much to hide it. And,” Shikamaru said, touching the blond’s wrist, “you feel cold. Not to mention your pulse is racing.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been busy. Working. Reading a report seventeen pages too long.” Naruto feigned trying to look disgruntled. “You want me to go home, right? Well, I’m going now.” He extended a foot towards the carpet.
Shikamaru sat on the arm of the sofa near Naruto's feet, frowing, not moving an inch. “I want to see you try that. Try standing and watch me not collect you off the ground.”
“Empty threat, huh?” Naruto turned his head to him and looked apologetic, almost guilty. The leg went back in.
The corners of Shikamaru’s mouth dropped even further. “Naruto…”
“Hinata will worry. And I’m okay, really. I just need a nap. My head is splitting. I didn’t have much—any water today,” he said slowly, the answer dawning on him. “Twenty minutes rest and I’ll be right as rain. Throw in some water, and I'll be ready to go. I'll make a few notes for tomorrow. Then, I’m off.”
Shikamaru sighed. What a bother.
He hated straddling the damn fence, and hated it more when other people did, especially someone who was more or less his boss. Naruto needed a medic, but they both could not afford for word to get out that the Hokage was in bad shape, overworked and aiming for a stroke. Not when the Kazekage was coming over tomorrow, and definitely had to be there to welcome him. The Internal PR Team would skin his hide and wear it like a bandana to warn people of the consequences of shitting with Konohas’ image. Ah, no.
“Twenty minutes then. I’m going to get you some real food. And some medication for that headache. Water, too. Nap. I’ll be back in a bit, then I’ll take you home myself.”
Naruto nodded briefly before settling deep into the sofa to get some rest. In less than two minutes, he was out like a light before Shikamaru could say anything much else.
Shikamaru walked across the room and opened the door.
Black, brooding, and bathed in silence, Sasuke stood in the hallway.