621Second Chance
Summary: Shikamaru, Gaara and Naruto go back in time. Only Shikamaru and Gaara make it to the past.
Chapter 30
Sachi was having a bad day. A bad, horrible, borderline sadistic day – or week, or maybe, if he wanted to be melodramatic, month. (Yes. He was definitely in the mood for some dramatism.)
Danzō-sama had been forced to flee the village to avoid arrest – which, okay, admittedly hadn't come as that big of a surprise. Theirs was a thankless job, destined to be scorned by the village they'd vowed to protect. They all knew that. Danzō-sama made sure of it every other morning by reminding them why they did what they did.
(He gave the best speeches. Sachi had tried copying him once, but the words had tumbled from his mouth like bricks off of an overloaded cart, not flown over his lips smoothly like Danzō-sama's did. Maybe he just didn't have the talent for it.)
They'd always known that eventually, their worldview would clash with the naive peace-mongering the village was striving for.
Missing the jinchūriki ritual in favor of guard duty wasn't a very big loss for Sachi. He was fine with it. More than fine. (Not relieved! Of course he wasn't relieved. Definitely not scared. Danzō-sama knew what he was doing. Obviously.)
(Sachi definitely wasn't thinking of the distinct lack of jinchūriki attacks since the Nine-Tails. He absolutely was not wondering how Danzō-sama could have possibly learned to control a Tailed-Beast without a test subject to practice on.)
No, Sachi wasn't mad in the slightest about missing out on all the action. He more than approved of the distribution of tasks. He didn't dislike the spotlight – he just preferred to watch from afar over being blinded by looking at it too closely.
When the kid showed up, Sachi was rightfully surprised. Wasn't he the one Danzō-sama had ordered to keep an eye on? Was he looking for them? Didn't he know it wasn't safe in the forest?
Sachi shared an uneasy look with his fellow Root shinobi. At least he assumed they were uneasy. Lots of personal interpretation went into reading a masked shinobi's body language.
Imari gave a miniscule twitch of her shoulder that translated to either Hell if I know or There's mosquitos in this forest.
Danzō-sama would know what to do. It was still early: there was no way he'd already started the ritual. He'd still be busy setting it all up, so there was plenty of time to–
Oh. Okay. The ritual was in full progress. That was... well.
Danzō-sama's eyes twitched their way. His expression did not require any deeper interpretation. It was his standard 'We'll be talking about this later' scowl of disapproval.
Toichi snapped an accusing twig underneath his boot. Imari expressed a sigh by huffing out a breath through her nose.
Whatever. It wasn't the end of the world. They'd deal with the demon, then with the kid, and then–
The kid's father had followed them into the forest. Sachi was screwed.
Yashamaru followed Yoshino for only as long as he needed to catch sight of Gaara. All of the Konoha nin were swept from his mind. What did he care about who was fighting who and for what reason? What did he care about Konoha's affairs and whatever mess they'd gotten themselves wrapped up in?
He was seeing Gaara for the first time in weeks, and it was to watch him fight for control over the sand demon that had almost gotten him assassinated by his father.
"Gaara!" he called once he was close enough, diving in to block a hit from... a child? What was a kid doing on a battlefield? What was a kid doing, fighting against Gaara?
Yashamaru frowned. If he was trying to hurt Gaara, it didn't matter how old he was. "Don't do that again."
The kid's eyes widened. They darted downwards and took in his uniform. "You're from Suna."
"And you're a child."
Gaara lashed out with a sand whip and sliced Yashamaru's skin. He wished he could pretend they were engulfed in a simple, regular training session. There was no recognition in Gaara's eyes. Nothing to suggest he'd even noticed Yashamaru's presence.
"I'm Gaara's friend," the kid said, ducking underneath an attack and warding off another with a kunai. "And you're..."
"His uncle."
Yashamaru had no time to contemplate the inanity of the kid's claim. He seemed to be able to handle himself in a fight. Even if he wasn't, Yashamaru hadn't come to safeguard some foreign child who'd gotten himself involved in things far beyond him.
Gaara – no, the thing inside of him – snarled in frustration, and Yashamaru clenched his teeth at the pang it sent through his chest. He would give anything to never have to hear the demon's voice leave Gaara's mouth ever again.
Yashamaru's wrist stung. Blood ran downwards in droplets, trickling out of the wound Gaara's sand had left behind.
Yashamaru tensed, whirled around and deflected a kunai aimed at Gaara's throat.
Yoshino's kunai fell to the ground harmlessly. The Suna nin – Yashamaru – glared at her. "Don't."
Yoshino bristled. Her eyes darted past him – where was Shikamaru? Was he alright? There. Close, far too close to the demon container, but holding his own. How was he holding his own? It didn't matter. Yoshino didn't care, as long as it stayed that way.
"The demon's out of control!" she yelled, already drawing her next kunai.
Yashamaru's gaze darkened. "My nephew's still fighting." He turned around, facing down the demon with a grim expression on his face. "I'll take care of it. Don't touch him."
Yoshino's grip around her kunai tightened. What right did some ANBU from Suna have, telling her she couldn't defend her son when he was in danger? What right did he have, determining that a monster on par with the Nine-Tails posed no threat to her family?
She charged back in, uncaring whether there would be one opponent to fight or two. She'd take on Danzō all by herself if it meant keeping Shikamaru safe.
"Mom!"
Yoshino turned in time to catch a quick, fleeting hug from Shikamaru. She melted at the contact, closing her eyes and reveling in her son's warmth. He was alright. At least for now, all three of them were okay.
"What are you doing here?" He jerked his head, cutting himself off. He slipped out from Yoshino's grip, and Yoshino fought the urge to cling onto him. "Sorry. Dumb question."
It wasn't funny. Nothing about the situation was funny. Yoshino felt laughter bubbling up in her throat regardless, and she buried her nails into her palm to keep it at bay. Shikamaru hadn't been gone for longer than a few weeks, yet Yoshino felt like an eternity had gone by. Like the son standing in front of her was a different person than the one who'd run from home and left her behind.
Her relief was short-lived. Weeks worth of stress and fear for her child's life made splendid fuel for one's temper. "Where have you been?" she snapped, pressure and tension wrapped up in the sentence.
Shikamaru startled. "What?"
"You're grounded." Yoshino's voice sounded shrill. She didn't know what to do to make it stop doing that. "If you even think about going anywhere but home once this is all over–"
"I'm not– Mom, look, I'm–"
"– straight to your bedroom, and if I hear you stepping out even a foot before I say so–"
"I wasn't going to– Mom, just listen–" Shikamaru cut off his stuttering attempts at an explanation and tensed.
He leaped in between the demon and a Root shinobi's attack – just like Yashamaru had stopped hers. Just like he'd stopped her own attempt to stop the demon's rampage before it started.
The Root agent froze. They looked as startled as Yoshino felt.
She looked at Shikamaru incredulously. "What are you doing?!"
"He's my friend." Shikamaru's gaze was hard and unforgiving. "I'm not letting him get hurt."
Yoshino swallowed down some more hysterical laughter. Two of the demon's four appendages were now sand-colored and enormous.
Her day couldn't possibly get any weirder. Yoshino reluctantly started blocking attacks from Root shinobi when in other circumstances – in any other circumstances – she'd have attacked the demon right alongside them.
She so hoped Shikamaru knew what he was doing.
They could salvage this. They could still salvage this. Sachi kept telling himself that again and again so he could hopefully start believing it.
The power in a shinobi village was constantly fluctuating. Disappearances happened all the time. They would just have to take care of the kid's father (Konoha's jōnin commander) , his entire family, and also... the Uchiha matriarch...
Okay. So maybe it wasn't so fine. It was definitely, tragically far from fine when the demon kid started to freak out. Sachi had been wondering what would happen when one interrupted a ritual to brainwash a jinchūriki to do their bidding.
Sachi considered this closer and decided that he would rather go without the answer.
They'd just have to take down the little urchin before it caused a repeat of the Nine-Tails attack. Nothing easier than that. It wasn't even fully transformed and hadn't managed to attack them seriously yet. One well-aimed kunai ought to take care of–
The kid jumped in between Sachi's attack and his target. His mother followed suit.
Well, screw Sachi then. He hadn't planned to live another day anyway.
Danzō navigated around his subordinates as though they were props in an elaborate stage play. He ducked behind them when it suited him and used their numbers to keep Shikaku and Mikoto on their toes.
Shikaku darted another glance beyond their fight and paid for it with a kunai to the upper back. Mikoto took out the opponent and Shikaku ignored the sharp pain. He deserved that and more if he didn't manage to keep his emotions under wraps.
Both his wife and his son were now on the battlefield. Both of them were fighting. Both of them were in danger. Shikaku didn't have the capacity to help them, and if the fight wasn't over soon–
A Root shinobi taking aim dropped dead from a kunai to the back. At least Yoshino was keeping her promise to stay on the edge of the conflict.
"Concentrate," Mikoto murmured the next time she was close enough. Shikaku gritted his teeth, heeding the warning.
He wouldn't be of use to his family – or anyone – if he was distracted enough to allow Danzō and his goons to pick him off.
Danzō was beginning to lose track over who it was they were fighting. The Naras must have followed their brat and brought along the Uchiha. There was another shinobi, looking foreign with a uniform that was neither ANBU nor any other rank from Konoha.
He wasn't sure why they'd started fighting. Everybody acted as though he'd dragged the kid into the forest and planned on gruesomely torturing him.
If he'd known the brat would cause him this much trouble, he wouldn't have spared him a single glance. So much time and so many resources were wasted – and for what? To be painted the villain by a pair of vengeful parents who had no clue of what he was trying to achieve?
The kid had gotten him into this mess. In the unlikely event that he survived, it would be only right for Danzō to retaliate.
But first – Danzō dodged the Nara's attack and averted his eyes from the Uchiha's paralysing gaze – first, he'd have to finish this pointless, uncalled for squabble.
Shukaku gave a growl of warning. The humans ignored it, just like they had all the ones before it. Either they didn't fear his claws, or they knew that vessel-human-friend did not allow him to use them. He growled, again – growled, not groaned, because a groan was an expression of pain and weakness, and Shukaku wasn't weak.
The headache was killing him. He could no longer tell whether it was his human's or his own.
Evil-red eyes flashed before his inner mind (warping their thoughts and tugging at their strings), humans leaped around them (nimble and irritating like mice), kunai blades gleamed – Shukaku dodged and roared and lashed out. He needed to protect himself. He needed to protect his human. His human, who kept getting them into trouble.
He still refused to let him out fully. Silly, stubborn human. The mice hated them, and still he would rather let them both die than harm even one of them. Just like he hadn't allowed Shukaku to kill even a single little insignificant mouse back in their sand prison. These ones weren't even from there. They were strangers – worthless little strangers who would not be missed by anyone.
Shukaku squinted out of eyes that weren't yet his. (How did his human get by with a sight this poor? Could he not see even half the colors Shukaku did? Could he not see the chakra flowing through the earth, into the trees, in every single branch and leaf and the air around them?)
One of the mice looked familiar. They all looked similar to him (all the same chakra cooped up in squishy prisons of flesh and bone, how did they stand it–) but this one…
Shukaku reeled back. A kunai nicked their shoulder and drew blood. Shukaku snarled – vengeful, violent mice, calling them the monster when they were the ones out for blood. He didn't understand why his human was holding them back.
Shukaku could end this. He could end all of it, take care of the mice, snatch up his human and bring them far away. Some place where no one knew their face. A place where his human did not have to hide. A place where they weren't hunted – where no red-eyes could tear down their defense and wrench away their control. Where nobody could make them do anything they didn't want to do.
Shukaku.
Shukaku perked up. The mice around them stiffened. So nervous, so easily frightened. Of course they were – Shukaku would be, if his life was so awfully short and fragile.
Shukaku.
That aura... Shukaku felt it. Faint, but coming closer, old, so much older than the mice and the trees and the rivers around them. An aura as familiar as Shukaku's own.
That's... His human's voice felt distant and weak. Fragile little human, exhausting himself by keeping Shukaku at bay.
The aura swelled and a word appeared at the back of his mind. Not Shukaku's, but his human's. A word in his silly, vulnerable human brain. Family. Both of them felt it. Both of them ached for it.
Shukaku's voice built up at the back of their throat, forming a vibrating, restless rumble. Their muscles strained in their place, pushed in one direction by Shukaku but held in place by his human. Still so stubborn. Still so infuriating.
Hurry!
Shukaku ached so much that it hurt. A snarl tore free from their chest, born of frustration and longing. His human wanted the same he did, so why didn't he let go? Why didn't he let Shukaku free?
You'll kill them, his human muttered, sounding seconds away from falling asleep.
I won't. Shukaku could hold himself at bay if he needed to. The mice didn't deserve his mercy, but if his human insisted...
... Alright, his human whispered, tension slipping free as though he'd been holding on with the last of his strength. I trust you.
Shukaku was so startled, he didn't immediately realize that his defenses had fallen. There was nothing to hold him back.
Shukaku howled. His limbs – no longer theirs, but his – grew in size as his chakra unfolded. He was finally free. He was finally whole. He was finally himself – if only for a little while. The mice skittered around and attacked and Shukaku hoped that they weren't as fragile as they appeared. That blow with his tail had to hurt, but he'd given a promise.
Except that one. Shukaku growled, recognizing the red-eyed vermin that had tried pushing itself into their head. He lashed out with his tail, squishing the vermin without caring for his human's disappointment. This one did not deserve to live. It did not deserve the chance to do to one of his siblings what it had almost done to Shukaku.
No matter now. Shukaku had dealt with it, and his human would get over it.
His sibling called to him.
Shukaku paused. Among the mice was his human's friend. The smallest of them, close to his human's height: the one who'd been with them for weeks. The mice were ever so quick with their weapons. They'd attacked his human – why would they not attack the little one, too?
His human would be disappointed if something happened to him. Shukaku snatched him up and raced out into the forest.
He was faster and larger and stronger than the mice, and soon the forest swallowed them up and led them closer towards the voice calling for them.
Kurama had always been impatient.
The demon had broken out. Its host had lost the fight for control at last.
If Shikaku wasn't so busy craning his neck for Shikamaru and thinking up strategies to keep the beast away from the village, he might have spared a moment to feel sorry for its child-sized vessel.
The village was near. Old memories – old, terrible memories – writhed their way into Shikaku's mind, bringing back pictures of destruction and death. The demon's aura was oppressive and vile. More than one shinobi stumbled back from its force.
The beast stilled. So did Shikaku. How was he supposed to analyze his opponent when it was a demon made from pure chakra? They had no sealmasters who would sacrifice their lives a second time. Konoha would be ripped to pieces, and it would be their fault for not stopping it. It would be Danzō's fault for unleashing it.
Root was no longer fighting them. They held their collective breaths as the demon looked into the far distance.
It whipped around, crushed a uniformed figure that was too slow to dodge, wrapped Shikamaru into its giant tail and leaped into the forest.
Shikaku almost missed Yoshino's strangled gasp, already taking on the pursuit. Shikaku wasn't far behind.
They lost sight of it almost immediately. It left a trail of broken trees in its wake, and they kept following it – trying not to wonder how far away it was headed. Trying not to wonder how long until it tired.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to. For the second time in his life, Shikaku felt completely helpless.
A/N: Only a few more chapters! We're closer to the end than you might think. :)
My betas are Igornerd, To Mockingbird and PyrothTenka! Go check them out, they're all wonderful writers!
~Gwen
