Chapter Text
Shikamaru had stomped out of the house in the biggest sulk since he was five years old, and Yoshino had yelled after him to eat something with his team if he was going to storm off like a moody teen, and Shikaku just sat quietly and tried not to smile too much.
“What is the matter with that boy?” Yoshino grumbled, and without a recalcitrant son to take her irritation out on, she viciously scrubbed the breakfast dishes instead.
“He doesn’t want to be Chuunin,” Shikaku replied easily.
“What did he think was going to happen by taking the Chuunin exams?”
“Asuma made him do it.”
“Because he’s a smart boy, and the village needs people like him in charge. He can stop whining about his promotion and be proud of himself – he was the only one to pass, and that means something.”
Yoshino grumbled on, and Shikaku just nodded and agreed with her, because that was the easiest. She snipped about Shikamaru, and he would finish his breakfast and prepare for the day, and probably get yelled at for being lazy, and that was how life went.
“And what time are you coming home tonight?” Yoshino asked after muttering about Shikamaru for a while longer. “Are you missing dinner, again, or bothering to show up for it?”
Shikaku shrugged lazily. “No idea.”
“Be home for dinner, or I’m locking you out the house and you can sleep in the forest.”
“Leave a blanket out, then.”
She sent him a swift glare, and he replied with a slow grin. After a moment of staring at him and deciding if it was worth it to continue arguing, she shook her head.
Since the Sand and Sound villages had launched their attack on Konoha, there had been a lot for Shikaku to do. A lot of thinking, a lot of planning, a lot of deflecting the less than subtle hints that he become Hokage (As much as Shikamaru was baulking at his Chuunin promotion, Shikaku was defending his own position as Jounin. Hokage was too much work. Too much pressure. And not the kind of job for a Nara.)
His stag was waiting for him at the front door, and Yoshino yelled out her final parting shot of, “You cannot take that deer to work with you!”
Shikaku ignored her. He tapped his fingers under the stag’s chin affectionately, and began his stroll into the centre of the village.
“Jani,” he said leisurely, and the deer kept pace at his side and cocked an ear at the sound of his name, “Shikamaru got promoted. And he’s been sulking about it since it happened.”
The stag snorted softly.
“Yeah, he’s not pleased with it. And we still don’t have a new Hokage.” Shikaku shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked through a wrecked village, and glanced at the deer. “You wanna do it? I’m sure you’d be a good leader.”
The stag did not reply, and Shikaku smiled softly to himself as he walked. He left Jani outside the Hokage building, helpfully nibbling the hedges, and prepared himself for another day of verbal jousting, and thought maybe he should put Asuma’s name forward as Hokage if only to see how Shikamaru reacted to the suggestion. The boy was in a foul mood as it was, grumbling over change, and it might be amusing to prod him a bit with the idea that his sensei was going to change as well.
Might as well have some fun.
The village might be in disrepair, and the council might be nagging him about being Hokage, and Shikaku might have been helpfully deflecting them onto Jiraiya, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t meet his team for a drink after work.
A drink, snacks courtesy of Chouza, and a chuckle over Shikamaru’s continued disdain for his new position.
“Is Shikamaru still complaining over his promotion?” Inoichi asked, peering into his glass as though something suspect might be hiding in his beer.
“Yes. You know him.” Shikaku didn’t bother to hide his smirk around his team.
“Ino’s says he’s infuriating,” Inoichi grinned.
“Shikamaru needed this promotion,” Chouza said. “He needed something to motivate him.”
“True,” Inoichi sent Shikaku a sidelong glance. “He doesn’t have a nagging wife to get him in line. Perhaps more responsibility will help.”
“He’s doing fine,” Shikaku said mildly, ignoring the implication that Yoshino was the only reason Shikaku got out of bed in the mornings. (She was.) He held out a chip for Jani, and the stag reached his head through the window of the pub and took it delicately between his lips.
“Why do you waste chips on a deer?” Chouza asked despairingly.
“It’s not just a deer,” Shikaku replied. “It’s Jani.”
“He’s still a deer,” Inoichi raised an eyebrow.
“He’s more than that,” Shikaku smiled fondly at the animal. Jani stretched his neck out again, and Chouza reluctantly handed over a second chip. It was normal to have the stag hanging around when Shikaku was in the pub, and not unusual for other patrons to spoil him occasionally. He didn’t come inside as often as he used to as a youngster, since nowadays he had an impressive set of widely spanning antlers on his head, but wherever Shikaku was, the deer was never far behind.
“Is Ino working in the shop today?” Shikaku asked.
“Yes.” Inoichi eyed him. “Why?”
“Need some flowers.”
“For what?”
“Yesterday was Jani’s birthday,” Shikaku answered cryptically.
“Ah, of course,” Chouza chuckled. “And you’re going to give him flowers as a gift?”
“Something like that,” Shikaku tossed back the rest of his beer, and after a few more minutes of chatting to his team, he made his way off to the flower shop.
They walked home side by side, as they always did, and Shikaku let Jani into the house.
“No deer in the kitchen,” Yoshino said, the instant she caught sight of him.
“It’s Jani; he doesn’t count.” Shikaku kept the flowers behind his back. “It was his birthday yesterday.”
“I remember,” Yoshino said mildly, moving away to fuss around the kitchen.
Shikaku followed her. “Are you pretending not to know why I’m bringing it up?”
Yoshino turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Shikaku, this village was falling apart. Things have been chaos. In times like this, personal matters get pushed aside.”
He shrugged one shoulder, and pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back, holding them out. “Happy anniversary.”
Yoshino’s exasperated sigh was punctuated with a fond smile.
“Just because the village is falling apart doesn’t mean I don’t know what day it is.” He smiled at her. “And you survived another year with me; that deserves celebration.”
She took the flowers from him, feeling her bad mood melt away.
“I still love you,” he said. “Even when things are going wrong. You mean more to me than the village, so I wouldn’t forget something like this just because I’ve been busy and trying to get everything back on track.”
“And because you never forget Jani’s birthday, which is a handy reminder about our anniversary,” she pointed out.
“It’s a helpful hint, yes.”
“Do you love me more than you love Jani?”
He pretended to think. “Hm . . . Can it be a tie?”
Yoshino laughed, shaking her head and moving forward to thunk against his chest. “You big goof.”
He closed his arms around her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Thank you for putting up with me.”
Shikaku was out the village when Shikamaru left on his first Chuunin mission, but he made it back at roughly the same time, and got the summary of events from Kakashi before seeking out his son at the hospital.
He took a moment to wait in the shadows and listen, because Shikamaru was talking to that girl from Suna who had been such a challenge during his exam, and he was fascinated by the way they interacted. It almost made him reluctant to break up their conversation to give Shikamaru a hard life lesson, but he knew Shikamaru was listening to him and taking him seriously, and moments to motivate Shikamaru were few and far between.
Shikaku went home to let Yoshino know everything was going to be fine eventually – it wasn’t fine yet, and when Shikamaru stomped home he went straight onto the roof and refused to talk to anyone.
“He did great,” Shikaku said later that evening, sitting on the porch with Yoshino beside him. “It was just an unlucky mission.”
He gazed out at the forest, and whistled sharply. There was a pause of nothingness, then Jani came bounding through the brush. He folded himself onto his knees and lay down, resting his head on Shikaku’s lap.
“Is he going to come down?” Yoshino asked, glancing at the roof where Shikamaru had situated himself.
“I’ll get him down in a minute.” Shikaku pulled lightly on Jani’s ears. He and Yoshino sat in companionable silence until the sun had faded, then she rose up and turned on the outside light, predicting his next move. Before he could ask, she brought the Shogi board out and set it in front of him.
“Go easy on him,” she said. “I’ll be in bed when you’re done.”
Shikaku kissed her goodnight, and walked around the house, peering up at the roof. Shikamaru knew he was there, but remained stubbornly silent.
“Come and play,” Shikaku said.
“You can’t solve every problem playing Shogi,” Shikamaru replied sharply, and Shikaku had to fight down a grin at the acerbic response. Oh, Shikamaru was in an awful mood, and now that he knew everyone on the mission would be fine, Shikaku was finding it amusing.
“You can solve a lot of them, though.”
Eventually, Shikamaru climbed down from the roof and sat down in a grumpy slouch.
Jani lay down against Shikaku’s back as he set the board. He didn’t say anything, as Shikamaru had heard it all already. He just needed time.
Shikaku moved the first tile, then rested his hand on Jani’s neck while Shikamaru stared at the board as though it held all the answers. Slowly, he was working his way through the mission, in a calmer frame of mind, and figuring out where his mistakes were, where he could improve, where he could change strategies so that no one was harmed next time.
Shikaku almost thought of letting him win the game.
Shikamaru’s hand shook slightly when he moved the tiles, but Shikaku didn’t point it out.
He just leant against Jani, and watched Shikamaru with a critical gaze.
Shikamaru stayed quiet. Shikaku didn’t like that. His son had a tendency to bottle things up, and needed help getting talking.
“So,” he started, and Shikamaru flinched at the sound of his voice. “That girl from the Sand . . .”
Shikamaru met his eyes warily. “What about her?”
“Seems like a nice girl.”
“She’s horrible.”
Jani snorted, and Shikaku rubbed the stag’s ears. “Really? I thought she seemed nice.”
Shikamaru huffed out a breath. “She’s troublesome.”
Shikaku fought down a grin. He just nodded. “Best stay away from her, then.”
“That’s the plan,” Shikamaru muttered.
Shikaku scratched at Jani’s forehead. “Yes, wouldn’t want to deviate from the plan . . .”
“Oh my god, I completely forgot about the Suna ambassador arriving today,” Tsunade threw her hands in the air, sending a flurry of papers awry. “Why the fuck is everything happening all at once?”
“If you need someone to meet her,” Shikaku began innocently. “Shikamaru isn’t on a mission today.”
“Shikamaru,” Tsunade repeated slowly. “. . . Attempting to be diplomatic? Are you trying to start a war?”
“He’s on the Chuunin exam committee anyway,” Shikaku said reasonably. “Why use two people for a job when one will do?”
Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “You do know Temari is coming?”
“Is she?” he cocked his head to the side. “I had no idea. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Tsunade shrugged. “Okay, whatever. He can have the mission. But if they kill each other, I’m blaming you.”
The office door chose that moment to open, and Shikamaru himself poked his head in with an annoyed frown. “Hey, so, the mission I was meant to do today got cancelled, so can I go home and-“
“You’re needed at the village gates,” Tsunade said flatly. “New mission. Don’t screw it up.”
Shikaku patted his son on the shoulder as he walked past him out of the office. “Pity about that mission being cancelled. Don’t be late for dinner.”
Shikaku leafed through a few Jounin reports absently, strolling through the Hokage building with Jani at his side. It was after hours, and no one objected to the presence of a deer inside.
Shikaku was stalling, wondering how much time he could waste in order to see how late Shikamaru and Temari stayed in the decryption rooms ‘discussing things’, as Shikamaru had put it. Shikaku knew they were just talking – and had been for the Suna shinobi’s last several visits - but it was amusing to see how long Shikamaru could talk for when the other half of the conversation was Temari. They could spend hours chatting idly.
“He thinks we think he’s working,” Shikaku said conversationally, and Jani huffed agreeably. “But we both know that they just like being around each other. He’s just too stubborn to admit that he enjoys time with her.”
Jani butted his head into Shikaku’s elbow, and he absently raised an arm for the deer to nuzzle under.
When it was past eight o’clock, Shikaku and Jani went home, to be greeted by instant yelling.
“Where have you been?” Yoshino asked. “Where is Shikamaru? What on earth is he doing that takes so long? Why is Jani in the house again?”
“Shikamaru got caught up at work,” Shikaku said, scratching Jani behind the ears. “He might be a while longer. Things were more complicated than he thought.”
“Again?” Yoshino growled. “I’m starting to think Suna needs better management, because Shikamaru is always home late when he’s working with that village on projects.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Shikaku said. “What a strange coincidence.”
After dinner, Jani lay flat out on the grass outside, and Shikaku lay against the deer’s stomach and watched the stars and mused his way through the village’s plans and expectations for the week. It was creeping in on eleven o’clock when Jani lifted his head, ears swiveling forwards.
Shikaku watched his son sneak along the side of the house and hop in his bedroom window.
He snorted. “Like we didn’t know he was still out. I’m not sure how long he thinks he can keep the fact that he likes that Sand Princess hidden, but he better start coming up with better excuses for staying out so late.”
Jani lay his head down again.
Shikaku patted the deer firmly, and stood up, stretching leisurely.
“Goodnight, Jani,” he said, and the stag replied with a soft snort, watching him as he wandered into the house.