these ghosts just might be mine
Shikamaru has been in the past a little over four months before he finally steps foot in the Nara compound.
The Clan Head is already outside the main house to meet him, a lazy slouch to her but her eyes are calculating in a familiar way, taking everything about him in. It feels like an eternity before she turns, beckoning him forward. It feels like coming home, even if he is some hundred odd years in the past on some insane mission to save the world.
He follows, head tilted up to the sky and thinks, he’s not a hero, why him?
Naruto was the light during the war, the light that guided Obito to them, that banded together all the Shinobi Villages, that gave a Goddess pause.
But that light was snuffed out two years into the war, and after that, it was easy for the Goddess to pick them off one by one.
Amongst an entire world, only a handful of people were left alive, on the run, too tired for hope but too stubborn to just lay down and die.
Shikamaru vividly remembers Tsunade clocking Kaguya in the face before the forest of Fire Country went up in flames.
He’d held both Ino and Sakura as they cried for their Hokage, their mentor, as they escaped on the backs of Sai’s ink birds, watching the mad Goddess laugh as she decimated Hashirama’s trees and the remnants of Konoha.
Sakura had become almost manic after that, working tirelessly to find a way to fix everything. The deaths of Naruto and Tsunade hit her hard, but it was with Ino’s death she shattered.
Shikamaru, admittedly, didn’t handle it all that well either.
He breathes, low, pushing thoughts of a destroyed future away as he follows his something-great-grandmother into the room. She sits, curling her fingers around her chin as she watches him. He settles himself down in front of her, easily under the weight of her gaze, and keeps his eyes to the floor.
“You’re a Nara,” she begins, a statement rather than a question.
“My name is Shikamaru,” he replies, turning his head to stare at the Clan symbol painted on the wall. She turns with him.
“Your hair's a little on the long side for a main house member.”
Shikamaru grins, and if it's a bit pained she doesn’t say anything. He turns, just slightly, to look at her, and she’s already watching him, something resigned in her eyes as she catches his gaze.
“This is troublesome.”
“Not as troublesome as the future is going to be, Nara-sama.”
She snorts, slouching further, and waves him off. “Might as well start calling me Shikako-kaa-san, boy. It’s about time I named my Heir, anyways.” Shikamaru blinks, long and slow, before--
“Man, what a drag. If I knew I was going to become clan head again while on my mission to save the world I’d have just stayed away.”
Shikako laughs as Shikamaru sighs, wrly, but doesn’t hesitate to bow. “Thank you, for everything.”
Shikako grins, something soft but steele-like. The Nara have always been intelligent, even if they’d rather be lazing in the sun than putting themselves in the middle of conflict. Perhaps that’s why they’ve always needed a Yamanaka to balance them out, and that hurts something fierce, but Shikamaru carefully places that in a box reserved to deal with later.
“Tell me about this mission of yours. I know you didn’t expect us all to sit here quietly while one of our own is in trouble.”
Shikamaru spends three days cooped up with Shikako, three days of reliving the hell he’s gone through, his plans, his goals. Shikako listens, never interrupts, but Shikamaru can see her mind working, planning and discarding ideas as fast as his own brain does.
Talking about Konoha gets him a raised brow, but it’s not one of disapprovement, rather intrigment, and Shikamaru wonders if when Madara and Hashirama come together to make their dream reality, if the Nara will be at the gates asking to join first thing.
It’s a nice thought, admittedly, Konoha is home as much as the Nara and Akimichi and Yamanaka Clans are.
Something like longing settles between his ribs, twists his heart painfully as he remembers, and it's only when Shikako startles him by placing her hand on his shoulder that he remembers to breath.
Shikamaru spends the next year in the compound amongst the clan members, tending the dear, helping Shikako with Clan matters. He even was introduced as Heir to the Akimichi and Yamanaka Heads.
Inoue Yamanaka and Chosai Akimichi greet him warmly, and Shikamaru vaguely wonders if Shikako mentioned anything to them.
From her sly wink across the table, he can safely say yes to that, and that the two Clans are all in for helping Shikamaru stop the end of the world.
He hasn’t met their own Heirs yet, nor has any mention of Hashirama or Madara cropped up, but the Yamanaka love to gossip, even now, and mentions of the clans rivalry reaching a crescendo have started to swell.
Shikako and him have gone over contingency plan after contingency plan, have thought up every possible scenario imaginable and though Shikamaru knows that not even a Nara’s plan can go perfectly every time, knows he at least will manage to change something during his time here.
Hopefully for the better.
Which is why when a young Yamanaka girl by the name of Aika starts talking about a possible treaty between the two rivaling Clans, Shikamaru cuts his eyes to Shikako, watches as she narrows her eyes in return, and nods.
Shikamaru is slipping through the shadows and out of the compound before anyone notices he’s gone.
One of the reasons Shikamaru had survived so long under Kaguya’s reign was due to his affinity for shadows. Especially when Karin was with him, masking their chakra signatures while he hide them from view. Necessity had him creating jutsu to help with concealment, travel, a bastardized version of the Hiraishin created between him and Kakashi had him learning how to transport between shadows.
A skill he now used as he slipped along the forest, heading towards where the Uchiha and Senju compounds rest.
It was late in the afternoon when he left, and Shikamaru slipped between the ever growing shadows quickly, something unfolding in his chest as he stuck to the trees, breathing in the smell of the forest. They might not be Hashirama’s tree’s but Shikamaru loves them anyways. He’s a Konoha shinobi, even if the village hasn’t been founded yet. Even if it never will.
(On the chance Hashirama and Madara don’t build the village, Shikamaru is wholly planning on doing it himself. Shikako has already nominated him for Hokage, much to his displeasure and the rest of the Clans amusement.)
It’s late when Shikamaru manages to land somewhere between the two clans. He may not be a natural sensor, but he can feel the bare flickers of the Clans in opposite directions, and Shikamaru allows himself to slip down the trunk of the tree, folding his hands behind his head.
He doesn’t mean to do it, but Shikamaru has gotten use to sleeping full nights, no longer needing to stay constantly on the run, only taking short naps between chases from the Rabbit Goddess.
He sighs, closes his eyes, and sleeps.
He wakes up to the feeling of Chakra signatures moving in on him, but he doesn’t get up, only rolls over. He recognizes Hashirama and Tobirama from their Edo Tensei resurrection, recognizes Madara even if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Shikamaru wasn’t planning on integrating himself with the two right off the bet, well--
Something that suspiciously sounds like Naruto whispers for him to not worry so much and go with the flow.
Shikamaru would snort if the two clans hadn’t stepped into the clearing the moment they did.
“Hashirama--”
“Shh!”
There's the sound of shuffling, a rather offended sounding squawk, and hushed whispers before four bodies hover over him.
Shikamaru can’t see it, but Madara is all puffed up, like a cat who isn’t sure how offended it should be yet at the sight of the sleeping Nara.
“Get up.”
Shikamaru lets out a loud snore instead.
Madara bristles, even as Hashirama grins, sliding his eyes between his once friend and the Nara. “Ah--”
“I said get up! This is a fight between the Senju and Uchiha!”
Shikamaru opens one eye, unimpressed, and leans up enough to level a look at Madara. “No.”
Hashirama watches as the man thunks his head back onto the grass, closing his eyes.
Madara looks two seconds away from setting him on fire.
“Madara! My friend, surely we can--”
Madara makes a furious noise, and Shikamaru watches as Hashirama nearly makes a panicked grab for his old friend.
(for all they are rivals, they’re best friends, and Hashirama knows that noise is means Madara is about to light someone on fire. A certain long, dark haired, sleeping someone.)
But Shikamaru is unconcerned, and before Madara can shape his fingers into a sign, a tendril of shadow slips up between them in warning. Madara stills, narrowing his eyes.
“Nara,” Madara hisses, after a moment.
“Troublesome,” Shikamaru decides, still not opening his eyes. Perhaps he’s enjoying this more than he should. “I’m not moving, this is the perfect place for cloud watching and i’m not going to let your stupid fight destroy it before I can fully enjoy it.”
Madara snarls, stepping forward only for the shadow to expand, making a large circle around the man, and Izuna pulls his brother back before he can step into the trap.
He hisses at his brother, but its Tobirama that speaks.
“You’re the Heir,” he says, and everyone turns to look at him, and Hashirama catches the interest lurking in his eyes. “They call you the Genius amongst Geniuses.”
Shikamaru opens an eye, warily. “It’s a stupid name.”
“Surely not. One of our members returned from a mission cursing that Shadow Walk Jutsu you’ve created. I’ve only been described it, but it's clearly a work of art.”
Shikamaru is absolutely certain Tobirama would desect him if he could, just from seeing the look in his eyes. From the way Madara is glaring, he’s sure that he wouldn’t mind catching him, so long as Tobirama promises it will hurt.
Shikamaru sighs, and wisely decides it's time to make a escape.