#thirdstartokonoha

temari lifts her head from her hands, disappointment filling the surfaces of her face to find that it’s chouji in front of her and not the man she really wants to see. she had known that it wasn’t shikamaru from the sound of his footsteps, the pattern of his breathing, the way the other had hesitated slightly before asking the question, but she’s still upset. she stares at chouji, feeling somewhat DESOLATE and void of the emotional space required to discuss her emotions. shikamaru usually didn’t require words from her, and she’s at a loss trying to force some out to give to chouji, to let him know what happened.

suddenly, temari realizes something significant: maybe shikamaru had sent chouji to talk to her. for whatever reason, her boyfriend feels like he is not capable of discussing this with her anymore.

him not sharing his feelings openly is what had landed them in this mess in the first place, if you asked temari. she felt forced to coax his emotions out of him, and when that hadn’t worked too well, she had yanked them out. it’s understandable that he hadn’t liked it, but it was not understandable to temari that he had kept them from her in the first place, lied to her about them, and tried to insist that it didn’t even bother him that she didn’t want to move here.

“did he tell you?” temari croaks. her voice lacks strength and clarity, causing her to almost sound like someone else. “did he tell you that i said no?”

she COULDN’T DO IT. she can’t leave behind everything that she has ever known, abandoning her village, desecrating her family line, leaving her brothers to fend for themselves because she fell in love. she can’t subject shikamaru to a lifetime of stares, muttering about how the nara clan has CHANGED, how they never would have allowed this just a few years ago. she can’t cause irreparable damage to both his reputation and her own; she can’t move here not being able to run missions, having to sit in that house all day and pretend it isn’t eating her away inside, hide from her husband how miserable she is.

it has NOTHING to do with not loving him. she wasn’t previously aware of how much love she had to GIVE until she fell for shikamaru. it has nothing to do with her not wanting to; if it were just about her, if she, the person, was the only factor, she would have said yes in half a heartbeat. but the issue, if you asked temari, wasn’t even that she had said NO, it was that shikamaru insisted he understood. he insisted that it didn’t bother him, that they could go on like this, that they could get de facto married or whatever, the most official thing that didn’t involve any changing of citizenship.

you’re lying to me. temari had accused him. it bothers you. i know it does.

it rockets through her memory with the same ferocity that everything has been for the last forty-five minutes. it hurts, maybe from the strength of shikamaru’s denial or from the potency of her own words, asking him to leave her alone so she could think. definitely–not maybe–the look on his face when he had agreed and left her alone. there’s a storm coming in, and it isn’t even helping. the torment in the sky offers no soothing balm for the torment in temari’s heart.

she’s staring at chouji, the way she has been since he got onto the roof, and she wants, more than anything, for him to get it. “if it were just about me, i would marry him tomorrow.” she needs chouji to believe that, as shikamaru’s best friend. “but he can’t see the damage it would do to have me here. i can’t ruin his life like that.”

the wind picks up, almost violent, and thunder claps in the distance, far from them, but approaching. maybe chouji will invite her over; she doesn’t think she can go home.

“please.” she asks. “tell me i’m not wrong.”

“He didn’t tell me directly.  But it’s Taiyaki Tuesday ’nd he didn’t show up. I kinda figured out the rest just from knowin’ how Shikamaru is.”  And Temari had just confirmed his hypothesis.

Despite the windy weather looking as if it could sour at any minute, Chouji plops himself down next to Temari after hearing all she has to say.  The Akimichi is silent for awhile, digesting all the things Temari said both verbally and through body language.  Holding silence was something Chouji was good at; A silence that wasn’t judgemental or tense, but a silence that gave a chance to just be. 

Though all she said was that she didn’t want to ruin Shikamaru’s life, Chouji wonders if there was more to the story.  No, there had to be.  He digs into his pocket to retrieve the wrapper of a protein bar.  He fidgets with it while he thinks.  It had to be more than about what changes she’d bring for his best buddy.  It had to also be the potential changes for her.  Leaving her two younger siblings behind, the village she was so proud of.  The love and respect she’d gained from Suna’s civillians. It was a lot.  In the last few years, he’d gained a lot of love and respect from Konoha.  The idea of leaving that behind tugs at his heart strings.   

But he knows Shikamaru saw things differenly. Shikamaru acted with his mind rather than his heart. 

“Shikamaru sees everything like a puzzle, yanno?” Of course she knows.  He continues on.  He realizes he’s avoided her question, but he wasn’t sure if she wanted an actual answer.  “Somethin’ to be solved.  He uses his head instead of his heart.  When things aren’t goin’ the way his brain’s calculated, especially when it comes t’feelings ‘nd wants n’desires, he doesn’t use his heart t’figure things out.  He uses his brain.  It’s frustrating sometimes.” 

There’s a sigh. “Rather than thinking about how he should talk to you about this, he’s probably trying to calculate how likely it’d be that you’d change yer mind with how your interactions have gone thus far.  Or tryin’ to determine what his mistake was.”  He turns his attention to her, giving her a weak smile.  “Unfortunately, it’s something we gotta call him out on sometimes.”  We.  Of course Chouji sees Temari as important and someone that will be in his life for a long time.  “Not everything’s a puzzle— ‘Specially people.” 

perhaps nara yoshino had a reputation amongst the kunoichi of konoha as someone they could turn to should they require assistance, and perhaps all the children her son’s age knew that she was not often willing to lend a hand. the truth of the matter is, temari does not know. other than raising a person very precious to her, she has nothing to go on. temari has no knowledge of her accolades as a kunoichi, and neither does she possess any word-of-mouth knowledge from others who may know her. being from suna is not usually such a disadvantage, especially not in battle, but it has left her with nothing to prepare herself with for meeting shikamaru’s mother. the only thing to do was to handle it like a mission.

she had suited up, resisting the urge to steam her yukata, had given herself a pep talk in the mirror, and had subsequently spent nearly ten minutes trying in vain to tame her hair (it did not like konoha’s humidity). raising her hand to knock on the door shouldn’t feel this important–it’s not even as if she’s never been in this house–and it shouldn’t feel like so much could go wrong if this did not go well, if shikamaru’s mother decided she didn’t like her. but her opinion MATTERS! if she doesn’t like temari… who knew what that might mean? what if she had a grudge against sunagakure for the invsasion? what if she lost someone important that night? what if she would prefer that her son date someone he could see every day? temari had wrestled with these questions all last night, and the only small comfort she had found this morning was in not knowing. she could not know, she would not know until she met the woman.

rather than knocking, like temari raises her fist to do, shikamaru drags them inside and then announces their arrival. (it is his house, too…)

“shikamaru…” she protests weakly, swallowing an admonishment, glancing at him and then away. his mother is there, and while her eyes do look kind, temari sees something else in her expression–something she is not close to being able to identify.

nara yoshino is intimidating, but in a way that temari is not familiar with. “hi, er, hello!” she gives a gracious bow, clasping her hands in front of her. “it’s very nice to meet you, nara-san. i… can i help with dinner, or anything? i can run to the store for you, if you need something. shikamaru would have to walk me, though, i’d get lost… unless you need him! i can figure it out, too.” she nods three times, (hopefully) driving home the truth of her dependability.

today, yoshino decides, is a good day. shikamaru has given her little to no notice – typical – of temari's visit, but she is determined to make a decent impression on her son's girlfriend. the nara compound has been quiet and somber ever since the war. grief clings to its walls. but it is one step, and a giant one at that, towards new beginnings.

so she gets up that morning, ready to present herself as yoshino, shikamaru's mother and matriarch to the nara clan, not as a widow for the first time in weeks. it isn't an official matter, it is a simple dinner where she will get to meet who exactly had managed to make shikamaru blush and stumble over his words.

yoshino is working on cutting up a few ingredients when shikamaru's voice rings from the entrance. she wipes her hands on her apron before stepping into the hallway. "you're early!" she smiles, before walking towards the two of them and is welcomed by a bow. she reciprocates, allowing herself to look at temari just for a second.

she is beautiful, that's yoshino's first thought. the kind of beautiful that doesn't linger in the lines of a face or in the color of hair, the kind of beauty that just radiates off a person. she also seems extremely nervous. yoshino can only relate; once upon a time, meeting her mother-in-law had been the most nerve-wracking experience.

"oh, please," she shakes her head gently, never losing her smile. "you can call me yoshino. it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!"

she waves a hand. "nonsense, you're a guest! i'm almost done anyways."

                                        tw : written symptoms of panic / anxiety attack

reality exists a splash of cold water away , yet he’s urged by violent impulses & boiling blood that rages ‘neath his vessel . his mind is an internal battle as part of him screams for him to stop , that this is no longer who he is , that he needs to cry for help . he doesn’t at first , choking back compulsion as he grips the clothes against his chest , sinking into himself , trying to stable his breathing . this isn’t real . he’s stronger than this . 

his fingers tighten & grip the air , restraint causing him to be nauseated to the point of gagging . he struggles , as if his heart is in so much seething agony , & he knows there’s no way he can do this alone . perhaps if he sees her , someone who knows what he goes through , someone who has seen his worst & still loves him regardless  --  perhaps she might tame the demon that possesses him at his most catastrophic . 

limbs shake as he wills himself to her quarters , gripping his hair , totally disheveled & entirely worrisome . it takes everything in him to open the door to her room & when he does , he catches a glimpse of her widened eyes . 

he looks to her with terror & vulnerability .

                                                some meme i lost | @thirdstartokonoha

                 ------    ❛    AH,  SORRY  TO   bother  you  then,    ❜     shikadai  was  out  in  the  fields  with  his  father  ---  a  mystery  that  the  older  man  even  had  time  for  that  with  his  constant  watch  over  the  hokage   (  ALTHOUGH,  BORUTO  FOUND  THIS  TO  BE  MORE  LIKE  BABYSITTING  ...   ).     deflating  slightly,  the  boy  turned  on  his  heel  &  gave  a  short  wave.