A week of nothing sounded like heaven on paper.

No homework to do, no jutsu to learn; just him and the massive clouds rolling overhead, but no matter how long he lazed about, Shikamaru didn’t feel better. Nothing he did dislodged the weight in his chest. It was still heaven on paper, though. Every day after school, he came home and immediately switched out of his outdoor clothes. The house was his to rule for the few hours it took for his mother to get back from her day job as a ranger.

Today, though, his father was the first to arrive. Seeing him walk through the door when it was still light out was… weird. His job was a drag, but there was no one smart enough in the village to do it—or so he said.

“You might as well give up.”

Shikamaru frowned over the board. “No.”

His father laughed. “If you were this focused on your training, you know how much headache you’d save me?”

“Don’t you start too,” he replied. “I’m already up to my neck thanks to Ma’s nagging.”

“Your report card said that you’re close to failing the physical side of the Academy. We’ve had to come to two parent-teacher meetings since your first year and it’s starting to sound like a third’s on the way.”

“This again?” He threw his head back and groaned. “I’m taking part in the spars and beating every single person I come up against!”

The silence forced him to remember the events of the day he lost against Sasuke and the argument that followed. The weight in his chest tugged down to the pit of his stomach.

“Listen, you goddamn sloth, you’re no idiot, even if I find myself doubting that sometimes.” He smiled when Shikamaru glared. “If you beat your opponent with the Shadow Possession Jutsu, what the heck are you leaving your teachers to grade you on? And I know you know there’s more to the marking criteria than winning.”

The weight edged closer to the pit in his stomach, dangling painfully close to it. He swallowed. “But I don’t need to use anything else. A win’s a win, and if Iruka-sensei can’t see it, that’s his problem, not mine.”

He looked down at the shogi board, intentionally breaking eye contact.

His father’s stare remained a presence in the back of his mind while he moved his attention away from their discussion and onto the match at hand. Despite the leech on his focus, he managed to find an opening to exploit and ease back into the game. It was no ticket to victory, but it stayed the executioner’s blade for the next couple of moves.

Before Shikamaru was forced to admit defeat, the bedroom door clicked open.

“Honestly, Shikamaru, I knew you’d be in her—” His mother stopped and, almost exactly like a deer would, stood still and stared.

His father grinned. “Surprise?”

“You’re home? Early, at that… right, we’re making tonight special, come on.” She surged towards them, ranger gear and all, and took them by the arms.

They trudged close behind and grumbled about the disturbance to the game. Truthfully, neither of them cared; a game was, at the end of the day, a game, but it was the song and dance they played at home. Shikamaru found himself trying not to smile when she sat them down on the sofa, threw on a film tape, and ran off to roast some venison. With nothing else to do, he stared at the screen, watching the film but not really watching it at the same time.

He was never the type of guy to force his focus to stay, so he let his mind wander to other things, like the report card that had come home earlier this week. On some level, he understood why he ended up with the grade he got. Iruka’s warnings had fallen on deaf ears time and time again, but he didn’t care about failure. The things Shikamaru wanted out of life had nothing to do with grades or winning fights.

Being a shinobi was a dangerous job. Their life expectancy was a quarter of the average Leaf Village civilian’s. That was a wartime statistic, but wars happened all the time in the Elemental Nations. It was world wars that weren’t likely to be a thing anymore. Those were costly, and after the almost back-to-back second and third ones, he doubted any village was keen on starting a fourth.

The problem, ironically, wasn’t war. Shikamaru, despite being practically dropped onto the Academy’s doorstep, didn’t care much for becoming a shinobi. As the Nara heir, it was his lot in life to become one—that, he understood. But S-ranked jonin or bagging himself a flee-on-sight order in every single enemy bingo book?

That kind of exhausting ambition was better served by people like Sasuke and Naruto. All he wanted was to live an ordinary life. In his case, doing so required a certain level of strength, but that was the way the cookie crumbled. He couldn’t control being born as the heir to the Nara clan any more than he could control there being a clear sky on a summer’s day.

He’d like it if he could but reality was often disappointing. What he could control was how much of himself he sacrificed. Shikamaru would do his duty and nothing more, but nobody seemed to understand that—or ask if being a shinobi was something he even wanted.

When he blinked, the end credits were rolling and he flexed his fingers and toes, overwhelmed by the warmth shuddering down his body. He pressed the mute button on the remote control, making his father’s light snores the only noise left as he exited.

“Oh, it’s finished?” asked his mother as she laid down the tablecloth in the dining room.

He nodded and smothered a yawn. “The old man’s still sleeping.”

“He is getting up there in age. Sleep’s a precious thing when you're old.” She shot him a matching smirk. “Though, you’re looking pretty tired yourself.”

“Nah,” He smothered another yawn, “just hungry.”

“In that case, help me out here and then go wake your father up.”

“What’s for dinner?” asked Shikamaru as he set down the cutlery.

“Venison steak and mushroom miso ramen.”

“From Ramen Ichiraku?”

“What? No.” She looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “From the market—are you okay?”

“...Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll go wake up the old man. Don’t croak till then.”

He bolted out of the door before she could find something to throw at him and returned to see full bowls and two jugs at the centre of the table. The meal was good, but by the looks, his parents were exchanging, it was clear there was more to the special day than he’d initially thought.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

His mother blinked. “What?”

“I told you he’d realise.” said his father.

That only made him even more suspicious so he set down the spoon he was using to sip the broth and sat up straight. “Alright, what’s going on? Is this some kind of intervention?”

“Not exactly. We’re only touching base with you. The report card’s one thing, but it’s just a piece of paper.” His father cleared his throat. “It’s… clear that something’s happened. You’ve been at home every afternoon this week—not that it’s a bad thing, but…”

“What your father’s trying to say is that we’re worried.” His mother took over. “You haven’t told us about meeting up with friends, or your plans, or any of the things you usually do. Is… is everything okay?”

Shikamaru sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the weird looks his parents had been shooting him all week; he pretended not to while a small part of him hoped that they wouldn’t bring up the change to his schedule. There was no sense in lying to them either. His old man was way too smart and his mother just knew.

“...No. No, it’s not.” He clenched his jaw and sat back so that he could keep both their faces firmly in his field of vision. “Naruto and I had a fight— he’s just so irritating sometimes, you know?”

“How so?” asked his father.

“Well, he always goes on about how I’m too lazy and that I can work harder than I do.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

His mother tilted her head. “But can’t you?”

“See?” Shikamaru raised his eyebrows. “There you go now. He pushes his insane expectations on everyone else and then locks himself away when he doesn’t meet them. Is it so bad that I don’t want to be like that?”

“...Okay. So, what’s the problem? Because I’m lost here.” His father clasped his hands together and looked at his mother. “Your friend wants you to work harder than you do now, but you don’t want to?”

His mother pursed her lips. Shikamaru saw the apprehension in her brown eyes and swallowed the betrayal tickling the back of his throat. He should have expected their reaction. At the end of the day, hard work was troublesome, and his parents—especially his mother—didn’t seem to care about anything he thought on the matter.

“I think that Shikamaru needs a friend like that, honey. I love Choji, but he cares too much about people’s feelings to push back against our son.”

“Wait, you’re taking his side now?” Shikamaru lurched forward, propping his hands on the table.

“Now hold on, kid,” said his father. “We’re just trying to make sense of all this—I haven’t even met him so what side is there to take? What is it about him asking you to work hard that annoys you so much?”

“I get not wanting to be constantly on the ball, but all your friend seems to be asking you to do is apply yourself,” said his mother. “I’ve been asking you to do the same for years. You have so much potential, but until you start to work hard, it’ll only be potential.”

“But I am winning!”

Their faces remained the same: set in their ways, and as hard and unmoving as granite. The only thing that ever mattered was hard work. If he didn’t come home exhausted with all his muscles screaming in pain, he failed some kind of test they laid out for him.

“The Shadow Bind Jutsu is all I need to win,” said Shikamaru. “Why do I need to run myself into the ground every day when I can do just enough? Why is enough never enough, mum?”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re not mad at Naruto for saying what he did. You’re mad that, unlike Choji, he isn’t willing to let you waste away. Do you want him to lie and tell you the Shadow Possession Jutsu is enough to get you through your entire life?”

Shikamaru’s breathing turned short and he felt his face grow impossibly hot. Why did it surprise him that they, of all people, didn’t understand him? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d heard them rant about his laziness. But a part of him expected at least his father to be in his corner. He looked at him over the plates and jugs, appetite completely gone, and waited for his reply.

His father hummed, traced the scars lining his face, and looked him dead in the eye. “If you want me to tell you that Naruto was wrong, I can’t do that, but that doesn't mean I'm saying you're wrong either. You don’t like to work hard? That’s perfectly fine—I’m the same way. We choose how we live and deal with the consequences, good or bad.”

As Shikamaru's father spoke, he felt a mix of relief and frustration swirling within him. On one hand, it was a relief to hear his father acknowledge his perspective, yet on the other hand, it only served to highlight the growing chasm between them in understanding. The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable resonating with the weight of their expectations and his internal turmoil.

Shikamaru's grip on the spoon tightened, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain the rising tide of emotions threatening to consume him. “But it's not that simple,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper yet laden with a simmering intensity. He could feel the frustration beneath the surface of his skin, threatening to burst out at any moment. “It's never been that simple.”

His mother's brow furrowed in concern, her confusion-covered eyes searching his face for answers that he didn't have. She would never understand him in the way he wished and he was beginning to believe that not even his father could. Shikamaru met her gaze briefly before turning back to his father.

"You don't understand," Shikamaru said, his voice gaining strength with each word. "Neither of you do. It's not just about working hard or not. It's about..." The strength vanished and he trailed off, unable to articulate the complex web of emotions and expectations that had ensnared him for so long.

His father's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "I know it's not easy, son," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with regret. “But sometimes, we have to make difficult choices, even if they go against what we want out of life.”

Shikamaru's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to contain the storm raging within him. His father's words echoed in his mind, a stark reminder of the weight of responsibility that had been thrust upon him from birth.

"I can't do this right now," Shikamaru said, his voice barely a whisper yet carrying the weight of a lifetime of frustration and resentment. Without another word, he pushed himself away from the table, the scrape of his chair against the floor echoing through the room.

His parents watched in silence as he made his way to the door, each step heavy with the burden of expectation and the crushing weight of duty. As he stepped out into the cool air, Shikamaru knew that he was finally free. He cast his gaze skyward to the clouds rolling overhead. If only for a moment, that’s exactly how he felt: free from the suffocating grip of expectation.

It didn’t last though.

Leaving the Nara compound, he wandered down the hill to join the village proper. Civilians roamed about all around him, but just over the noise, he could hear and see shinobi taking to the roofs over everyone on the street. He didn’t like it. Seeing them was a sign of where his life was headed and what he had to become. Not that he feared the shinobi life, but the kind of life Shikamaru desired was the one where he walked the streets as he did now.

Naruto was the opposite. They’d had many debates that came to mind. His blond friend was always rushing to get to places, rushing to get stronger, like he had a bomb strapped to his chest. Shikamaru, on the other hand, wasn’t in any kind of rush at all. He was under no illusion that he’d be able to avoid the shinobi life, but neither did he want to jump headfirst into it.

That landed him in a bit of an odd spot. His friends, everyone from Hinata to Choji, had something they wanted from the shinobi life. He wasn’t as close with Hinata as he was with Choji, but if he had to hazard a guess, it had something to do with clan pride and matching up against her prodigy of an older cousin in the year above. Choji was a lot simpler: he wanted to reimagine himself. He was always awfully self-conscious, but it nosedived at the start of the Academy.

Now that he thought about it, both his friends only became so work-oriented after they met Naruto and Shikamaru found himself frowning. He wondered where his friends were now, more than a week on from the incident. Probably with Naruto having the time of their lives without a thought for him. Out of his three friends, he was the only one not so crazy about training.

It used to be him and Choji, but Choji was starting to take taijutsu more seriously, throwing off the dynamic of the friend group. Naruto and Hinata’s more exhausting pursuits were always balanced out by him and Choji, but when he started to go on runs with Naruto, the three of them grew closer together—leaving Shikamaru as the friend they rarely called when they wanted to have fun.

If they asked him to train, he wouldn’t do it, but the idea of them doing things without him didn’t sit right either. They hadn’t even made the effort to contact him. Did they even care? Did Naruto’s feelings and friendship matter more to them than his? With how much the group had changed this year, Shikamaru wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

“Shikamaru? What are you doing here?”

He stopped and turned back, too surprised to say anything for a few moments. Hinata and Choji met him at the junction separating the road to and from the Nara compound, and the market street running across it. He looked around briefly for any sign of Naruto, only turning around fully when he didn’t see him.

“I’m on a walk. You?”

Choji looked at Hinata. “We’re on a walk too.”

If there was one thing Choji was not, it was a good liar. He and Hinata were the least likely to hang out together. Usually, he only hung out with either himself or Naruto. Then again, given the current state of the group, it wasn’t like he had much choice in companionship.

“No Naruto?” Shikamaru asked, nodding at Hinata.

She glared. “We haven’t seen him since that day.”

“You haven’t seen me since that day either,” he replied. “Are you upset about that too?”

Hinata opened her mouth to reply, but Choji cut her off. “Actually, we were headed to your place.”

“I noticed.” Shikamaru let the embarrassed flush on his face settle. “So… you two are on a walk, huh? I guess that dinner really was an intervention, after all.”

“Despite what you think, we’re all worried about you,” said Hinata. “Especially since you’re clearly not worried about yourself nearly as much.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Hinata?” He was already walking away before she even got the chance to reply. “Know what? I’ve already seen where this goes so I think I’ll pass on the argument. See you guys around.”

She sniffed. “I thought you were smart enough not to be a jerk, but—”

“Hinata!”

They both flinched at the intensity of the shout—a shout that had come from Choji of all people; he’d never had that kind of steel to him before.

“We’re here to fix a fight, not start another one.” Choji stared at her until she muttered an apology before jogging up to him. “It’s been a while, man.”

“...It has.” Admitting that did something to Shikamaru. He gulped as a hollowness seeped into him down to the bones.

Choji smiled and rubbed the back of his head nervously. “Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place again. Just like before.”

“Why?” Shikamaru frowned. “You guys waited for so long before coming to me. Why? Was it because you went to Naruto first? Does he matter more to you than me? If so, I don’t see any reason to agree—” He cut himself off at Choji’s frown. “What?”

“Stop it. He's our friend and you're our friend too. Neither of you made any effort to contact us. What the heck did we do to you? Nothing, but did you care?” He huffed. “Both you and Naruto have been avoiding us, so don’t act as if we’re bad friends because of it.” He ran a hand through his long hair and winced. “I’m sorry for being so… you know…”

“Aggressive?” Shikamaru offered.

“Assertive,” Hinata replied. “Don’t apologise for it, Choji. It'll ruin the effect.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Choji hung his head low and they shared a snort before reality hit him and Shikamaru looked away.

“So… will you come?” Choji shuffled between them and looked up almost desperately at him.

Shikamaru didn't know why, but he smiled. “I’ll come as long as it’s us.” He started to walk away, slowing down when Choji and Hinata pulled up beside him. “Now that I definitely know that the dinner was an intervention, do you guys want to go on a real walk?”

“Wait a sec.” Choji rummaged through his pockets and pulled out three bags of roasted peanuts. He gave one to Shikamaru before passing one to Hinata. “Here.”

Despite taking it, Shikamaru raised his eyebrow. ”...Why are you giving this to me?”

He smiled. “Do I need a reason to give you a snack?”

Shikamaru supposed he didn't and happily threw a bunch into his mouth, enjoying the saltiness on his tongue.