Shikamaru didn’t notice the deer. Not at first.
He walked the forest path with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, sandals scuffing leaves and soil in a lazy rhythm that didn’t match the tension coiled under his skin. The woods were familiar—too familiar. Yet every bend, every root, every place where the light broke through the canopy didnt feel grounding.
Instead, it felt… crowded. Like his own thiughts had started breeding.
He exhaled and followed the trail until it opened into a small clearing, half forgotten, where an old wooden bench sat beneath the trees. He stopped there, as if pulled by gravity rather than intention, then dropped onto it without ceremony.
Shikamaru leaned back, spreading his arms along the bench’s backrest, shoulders loose, posture careless. He threw his head back until the sky filled his vision. Clouds drifted by. Slow. Predictable —at least something still made sense.
“…This is getting annoying,” he murmured under his breath, voice low, almost swallowed by the forest.
Thoughts kept surfacing uninvited —images that didn’t belong to him, emotions that hit too sharp, too fast. Moments where his shadow lingered a second too long. Where silence felt like it was listening back.
He clicked his tongue softly. Since when do I think and fe—..? And suddenly he stiffened. The word ‘traitor’ cut through his thoughts like a snapped wire.
It wasn’t loud —barely more than a breath— but it didn’t belong to the forest. His eyes sharpened instantly, the haze in his head clearing like smoke yanked away by wind. He lowered his chin from the sky, gaze flicking sideways first, then upward, scanning shadows and branches.
His arms stayed draped along the bench, relaxed on the surface —but his fingers flexed once, slow and deliberate.
the forest had gone quiet in that way it only did when something aware was nearby. No birds. No rustling leaves. Just the faint creak of wood and the steady rhythm of his own breathing.
“Tch” He clicked his tongue, voice carrying just enough to test the air. “Great. Now im hearing accusations from trees.”
Shikamaru shifted at last, rolling one shoulder as he leaned forward slightly, elbows still hooked over the bench’s back. His tone stayed lazy, almost bored, but there was a sharp edge underneath.
“Y’know” he said aloud, gaze lifting toward the branches where the light broke unevenly “if you’re gonna call someone a traitor, it’s kinda bad manners not to show your face.”