![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jul. 7th, 2020 12:00 am mailbox Leave all mail for Shikamaru here. |
did i sail through or drop my anchor down
Feb. 28th, 2015 10:05 amSooner or later, he'll probably have to kick the habit. It's a thought that crosses Shikamaru's mind every time he steps out for a cigarette. It's an expensive habit to keep up in a city that isn't half as accepting as Konoha was, though he can't say that he disagrees with the social attitude towards tobacco. He's read plenty of literature on the topic, plenty of studies on how negatively smoking can impact one's respiratory system, even when only picking up lingering smoke from a neighbor or friend. There are plenty of reasons to stop smoking, and far few to continue, but the one reason why he picked up cigarettes in the first place remains the reason why he continues to smoke today.
Because it's the only connection he keeps with his late mentor.
"Couldn't you have had some other habit?" Shikamaru asks absentmindedly, tapping his cigarette until the hanging ash falls to the ground. "Something like long walks on the beach, or a couple of beers... something less troublesome than this."
He grins as he exhales, because he knows it was never Asuma's intent to drive Shikamaru to smoke to begin with. Were Asuma still alive, he'd tell Shikamaru to cut it out.
But he's not.
It's not a bad day, all things considered. And so Shikamaru hangs outside of the building a little longer than he probably should, knowing that he'll have paperwork to fill out and file late into the night. It's not like he has a family to return to, anyway.
His brow raises when he notices Jerry coming out for his own break, and that's when Shikamaru knows he must have been hanging outside for hours already.
"Yo," he greets, raising a hand.
Because it's the only connection he keeps with his late mentor.
"Couldn't you have had some other habit?" Shikamaru asks absentmindedly, tapping his cigarette until the hanging ash falls to the ground. "Something like long walks on the beach, or a couple of beers... something less troublesome than this."
He grins as he exhales, because he knows it was never Asuma's intent to drive Shikamaru to smoke to begin with. Were Asuma still alive, he'd tell Shikamaru to cut it out.
But he's not.
It's not a bad day, all things considered. And so Shikamaru hangs outside of the building a little longer than he probably should, knowing that he'll have paperwork to fill out and file late into the night. It's not like he has a family to return to, anyway.
His brow raises when he notices Jerry coming out for his own break, and that's when Shikamaru knows he must have been hanging outside for hours already.
"Yo," he greets, raising a hand.
It's been a while since Shikamaru's felt quite as exhausted as he does today.
The morning had consisted of quite a bit of paper pushing and tugging on connections in order to help smooth over Korra's outburst upon learning of Naruto's disappearance from the city. The sort of afterthought that Shikamaru wouldn't normally bother with. What does it matter to him, after all, if someone gets a mark on their record for destruction of property? Provided no lives are in danger, provided the maliciousness isn't ongoing, he could care less about the cleanup in the aftermath of an elevated temper tantrum.
But this time, it's different. It's different, because he's helping out the woman he's pretty sure his good friend had every intention of marrying, of settling down with and starting a family. And because he knows the destruction wasn't out of carelessness so much as it was grief.
Shikamaru's learned a lot about grief these past few years.
When his exhaustion has finally worked to the point of being unable to stare at a page for any longer, Shikamaru reaches for a pack of his cigarettes, slings his messenger bag of important case files over his shoulder, and pushes the front doors of the department open.
A flash of red is the first thing he sees, and he can't help but think of the Kazekage.
"Yo," he greets, raising a hand as he makes his way towards the woman. "Grace, right? Think Jerry's still a little buried under paperwork today."
He knocks against the bottom of his cigarette pack, one of the sticks popping up above the rest, and holds it out to Grace in offering.
The morning had consisted of quite a bit of paper pushing and tugging on connections in order to help smooth over Korra's outburst upon learning of Naruto's disappearance from the city. The sort of afterthought that Shikamaru wouldn't normally bother with. What does it matter to him, after all, if someone gets a mark on their record for destruction of property? Provided no lives are in danger, provided the maliciousness isn't ongoing, he could care less about the cleanup in the aftermath of an elevated temper tantrum.
But this time, it's different. It's different, because he's helping out the woman he's pretty sure his good friend had every intention of marrying, of settling down with and starting a family. And because he knows the destruction wasn't out of carelessness so much as it was grief.
Shikamaru's learned a lot about grief these past few years.
When his exhaustion has finally worked to the point of being unable to stare at a page for any longer, Shikamaru reaches for a pack of his cigarettes, slings his messenger bag of important case files over his shoulder, and pushes the front doors of the department open.
A flash of red is the first thing he sees, and he can't help but think of the Kazekage.
"Yo," he greets, raising a hand as he makes his way towards the woman. "Grace, right? Think Jerry's still a little buried under paperwork today."
He knocks against the bottom of his cigarette pack, one of the sticks popping up above the rest, and holds it out to Grace in offering.
In some ways, Shikamaru feels a sense of disappointment whenever summer comes to a close. There's nothing that he likes more than to spend an afternoon out in the field, letting the sun cast warm rays over his skin, lulling him to sleep. But with the waning of summer also comes the longer span of night, longer shadows cast through the day, and it's those shadows which Shikamaru benefits from most. Not only for the cover they give him as he quickly darts through the buildings, the chakra on his feet allowing him to cling to the brick and concrete walls, but also for the traps that they help him lay.
Although he was hired for detective work, Shikamaru often brings in as many criminals as the officers assigned to patrol the city. He does so with the help of his shadow manipulation, able to take any shadow and manipulate the shape of it to his will, and to create tangible binds that he can cast around his target. Ropes, needles, smoke — if he can picture it, Shikamaru can form it from shadow.
Better still, linking his own shadow with other people's gives Shikamaru the ability to force them to move in tandem with him. For five minutes, the target remains at his mercy, even if it means reaching into their pocket for a gun, and pulling the trigger on themselves.
Shikamaru hasn't needed to take his power that far very often in Darrow, but it's a weapon he keeps in his back pocket, ready to spring if the occasion calls for it.
Today, as the sun starts to dip towards the horizon, his goal isn't to spill blood. Instead, he's about to test his abilities against a good friend, eager to see how far either of them can take their physical game of chess.
He winds a the shadow of a large maple tree, sending it through the branches, and holding every leaf completely still as a rush of wind passes by. Even though his expression remains even, Shikamaru's excited for this.
He loves learning new games, after all.
Although he was hired for detective work, Shikamaru often brings in as many criminals as the officers assigned to patrol the city. He does so with the help of his shadow manipulation, able to take any shadow and manipulate the shape of it to his will, and to create tangible binds that he can cast around his target. Ropes, needles, smoke — if he can picture it, Shikamaru can form it from shadow.
Better still, linking his own shadow with other people's gives Shikamaru the ability to force them to move in tandem with him. For five minutes, the target remains at his mercy, even if it means reaching into their pocket for a gun, and pulling the trigger on themselves.
Shikamaru hasn't needed to take his power that far very often in Darrow, but it's a weapon he keeps in his back pocket, ready to spring if the occasion calls for it.
Today, as the sun starts to dip towards the horizon, his goal isn't to spill blood. Instead, he's about to test his abilities against a good friend, eager to see how far either of them can take their physical game of chess.
He winds a the shadow of a large maple tree, sending it through the branches, and holding every leaf completely still as a rush of wind passes by. Even though his expression remains even, Shikamaru's excited for this.
He loves learning new games, after all.
Ever since showing up in Darrow, Shikamaru has done a lot of thinking about his place in the greater social structure of the city. In all of the vague thoughts and plans that he's had for the future, Shikamaru's place has been very much grounded and rooted in the village, always needing to bear in mind the responsibility that he's taken it upon himself to support and protect its people with the unique gifts that he has. What he wanted and how he was comfortable fell further and further back behind what was practical for Konoha, and it made choices easier in certain respects. Finding the practical choice isn't hard.
One only needs an understanding of the community.
Now that he's been completely shaken from that construct, the possibilities have widened. Not unpleasantly so. Shikamaru doesn't mind the hours that he now puts towards imagining different outcomes, or trying to guess at the gray spaces where he doesn't know the city well enough, particularly about their potential attitudes towards him. It makes things interesting.
He's at Temari's apartment again, where it's not unusual for him to spend a quarter of his day, brow knit as he helps to wash up the dishes after dinner. Just a simple meal of rice and curry, hearty and filling. In the middle of loading the drying rack with their plates and chopsticks, Shikamaru turns, pressing the small of his back against the rounded edge of the counter.
"Should we be living together?"
One only needs an understanding of the community.
Now that he's been completely shaken from that construct, the possibilities have widened. Not unpleasantly so. Shikamaru doesn't mind the hours that he now puts towards imagining different outcomes, or trying to guess at the gray spaces where he doesn't know the city well enough, particularly about their potential attitudes towards him. It makes things interesting.
He's at Temari's apartment again, where it's not unusual for him to spend a quarter of his day, brow knit as he helps to wash up the dishes after dinner. Just a simple meal of rice and curry, hearty and filling. In the middle of loading the drying rack with their plates and chopsticks, Shikamaru turns, pressing the small of his back against the rounded edge of the counter.
"Should we be living together?"
As much as Darrow and Konoha differ on the surface, finding a common thread between the two of them hasn't been too difficult. As long as humans are still the dominant force in a population, there's a commonality that can be drawn between the motivations of government, and in the votes and sway of the people. Shikamaru's days have been filled not with the question of what drives the population, but instead in memorizing laws, regulations, and all the minutiae imaginable.
It's not an unpleasant task in of itself, but there are only so many hours that Shikamaru can put into the effort before he grows weary, and lazy, and entirely unwilling to lift his chin for a second longer.
The scent of cigarette smoke still clings to his clothing as he heads back to the apartment, massaging the bridge of his nose as he walks quietly up the stairwell. He's ridden the elevators on occasion when speed and discretion alike are needed, but prefers the quiet steadiness of step after step.
Passing by the fourth floor, Shikamaru pauses, giving it a lingering glance before deciding to make a detour. It hits him belatedly that he's not even sure if Temari will be in at this hour. On the bright side, it's too late for Naruto to come stopping by and nosing around.
One hand in his pocket, Shikamaru raps sharply on her door, waiting until it opens to rub at the back of his neck with a weary look.
"The twelfth floor is too far up," he declares.
It's not an unpleasant task in of itself, but there are only so many hours that Shikamaru can put into the effort before he grows weary, and lazy, and entirely unwilling to lift his chin for a second longer.
The scent of cigarette smoke still clings to his clothing as he heads back to the apartment, massaging the bridge of his nose as he walks quietly up the stairwell. He's ridden the elevators on occasion when speed and discretion alike are needed, but prefers the quiet steadiness of step after step.
Passing by the fourth floor, Shikamaru pauses, giving it a lingering glance before deciding to make a detour. It hits him belatedly that he's not even sure if Temari will be in at this hour. On the bright side, it's too late for Naruto to come stopping by and nosing around.
One hand in his pocket, Shikamaru raps sharply on her door, waiting until it opens to rub at the back of his neck with a weary look.
"The twelfth floor is too far up," he declares.
A man who would attack a civilian woman is, in Shikamaru's view, one of the worst possible types of scum that walk the earth. Quiet and insidious, those who would at least entertain the idea walk around aplenty in Darrow, their eyes lingering and jaws set as the examine the women who pass them by. Shikamaru isn't much of a drinker, but if he has a night free of all other obligations, he's been known to head into a bar just for the sake of keeping an eye on the crowd. Hoping to keep them safe.
He's not sure when he became a man fairly devoted and constantly on the lookout, in spite of his inherent laziness, but there he is. Keeping a watch on everyone.
Doing his best to protect the people, in ways that not many are prepared to. They're outnumbered by here, in this busy urban civilian city, striking a sharp contrast with the military life he's known at home.
When he watches a man with a heavy flush stagger to his feet as a woman leaves the bar, Shikamaru drains the rest of his ale, leaving a significant tip in the glass before quietly sliding his hands into his pockets and stalking out into the night. He is dressed no different than most people on the street, in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, always the type to hide in plain sight. Not like the man would notice, anyway.
But the woman does, and for some reason, she turns sharply as though to cut through an alley that she must know as a shortcut back to her home. Damn. The man picks up pace behind her, not necessarily the most accurate with his direction, but fast enough on his feet to follow. It means Shikamaru has to hasten his own gait, shivering to cover the change in his speed, as though he were only rushing home to escape the cold.
He stops as he gets into the alley, brows furrowing as he finds the man trying to force the woman against a wall. Forming a seal with his hands, Shikamaru's job isn't too difficult; the lamp by the street gives him ample shadow to work with, stretching his own until it meets with the outstretched shadow under the man's feet, freezing him in place. Shikamaru adopts the man's pose, his hands tight and raised in the air, before he deliberately releases his own. And the man obediently releases his as well from around the woman's wrists.
"The fuck," he mutters, eyes wide.
The woman meets Shikamaru's gaze warily, and he tilts his head, raising his chin in the direction she was originally headed in. "I wouldn't recommend walking somewhere secluded. Take the main road. It's early enough that it should keep you safe," he recommends, and the woman nods quickly, not saying a word as she rushes back to the main street, her heels tapping as she goes.
"Now, for you," Shikamaru murmurs with a concerned look, lowering his arms and stepping towards the man.
Four minutes, thirteen seconds remaining.
"I don't suppose I could convince you to go home peacefully and never try that again?"
The man growls, struggling against the restraint of Shikamaru's shadow.
Shikamaru sighs. "I didn't think so."
He's not sure when he became a man fairly devoted and constantly on the lookout, in spite of his inherent laziness, but there he is. Keeping a watch on everyone.
Doing his best to protect the people, in ways that not many are prepared to. They're outnumbered by here, in this busy urban civilian city, striking a sharp contrast with the military life he's known at home.
When he watches a man with a heavy flush stagger to his feet as a woman leaves the bar, Shikamaru drains the rest of his ale, leaving a significant tip in the glass before quietly sliding his hands into his pockets and stalking out into the night. He is dressed no different than most people on the street, in jeans and a turtleneck sweater, always the type to hide in plain sight. Not like the man would notice, anyway.
But the woman does, and for some reason, she turns sharply as though to cut through an alley that she must know as a shortcut back to her home. Damn. The man picks up pace behind her, not necessarily the most accurate with his direction, but fast enough on his feet to follow. It means Shikamaru has to hasten his own gait, shivering to cover the change in his speed, as though he were only rushing home to escape the cold.
He stops as he gets into the alley, brows furrowing as he finds the man trying to force the woman against a wall. Forming a seal with his hands, Shikamaru's job isn't too difficult; the lamp by the street gives him ample shadow to work with, stretching his own until it meets with the outstretched shadow under the man's feet, freezing him in place. Shikamaru adopts the man's pose, his hands tight and raised in the air, before he deliberately releases his own. And the man obediently releases his as well from around the woman's wrists.
"The fuck," he mutters, eyes wide.
The woman meets Shikamaru's gaze warily, and he tilts his head, raising his chin in the direction she was originally headed in. "I wouldn't recommend walking somewhere secluded. Take the main road. It's early enough that it should keep you safe," he recommends, and the woman nods quickly, not saying a word as she rushes back to the main street, her heels tapping as she goes.
"Now, for you," Shikamaru murmurs with a concerned look, lowering his arms and stepping towards the man.
Four minutes, thirteen seconds remaining.
"I don't suppose I could convince you to go home peacefully and never try that again?"
The man growls, struggling against the restraint of Shikamaru's shadow.
Shikamaru sighs. "I didn't think so."
Within days of settling into Darrow, Shikamaru somehow managed to get himself a job as a detective in the police department. It shouldn't have been so easy, but it was — as though the city were an ocean that parted easily for the arrivals it brought into its streets, not questioning, but letting people settle first where they may. Although Shikamaru had done his best to bring himself up to speed on all the technology and societal differences between Darrow and Konoha, he knew that there were certain situations he could not observe until he had been given more time to settle. Interactions that only showed up once in a blue moon, for which he hasn't been around long enough to catch a glimpse of.
But if they're willing to give him the job earlier, he's not complaining. Instead, he comes in day by day to check in, get a sense for all the open questions that are sitting somewhere in that pile of paperwork that ends up on his desk.
And then he heads out. Because he's never been a nine to five, desk job kind of fellow. It means that he isn't head detective, but that's fine. He'd rather be out in the field anyway.
It's what lets him catch a band of thugs who have gone around, targeting the upper middle class businessmen who leave their offices late at night. The evening makes his job a more difficult one, needing to work only with the shadows within shadows, and not the overall blanket of night, but there are enough street lights in the area that he manages to loop all of the shadows together, as though given a swath of black paint to work with.
There are four men working together. And tonight, Shikamaru manages to get all of them under his control without throwing a single punch. His shadow links with theirs, stretched out like black bands on the asphalt in the otherwise soft, ambient light of the street light. All four are frozen in the same pose as Shikamaru, facing him.
"What's going on?" one asks. "I can't move. What the fuck did you do?"
"Holy shit, I swear, I'm trying my hardest to move, but he's. It's like he's hypnotized us."
Shikamaru starts walking towards the four, and with each step he takes, so they take a similar step in his direction. "Not hypnosis. That would be too much effort," Shikamaru says quietly, his brown eyes scanning over all of them.
It feels like there's a fifth person watching, but he doesn't know from where just yet.
But if they're willing to give him the job earlier, he's not complaining. Instead, he comes in day by day to check in, get a sense for all the open questions that are sitting somewhere in that pile of paperwork that ends up on his desk.
And then he heads out. Because he's never been a nine to five, desk job kind of fellow. It means that he isn't head detective, but that's fine. He'd rather be out in the field anyway.
It's what lets him catch a band of thugs who have gone around, targeting the upper middle class businessmen who leave their offices late at night. The evening makes his job a more difficult one, needing to work only with the shadows within shadows, and not the overall blanket of night, but there are enough street lights in the area that he manages to loop all of the shadows together, as though given a swath of black paint to work with.
There are four men working together. And tonight, Shikamaru manages to get all of them under his control without throwing a single punch. His shadow links with theirs, stretched out like black bands on the asphalt in the otherwise soft, ambient light of the street light. All four are frozen in the same pose as Shikamaru, facing him.
"What's going on?" one asks. "I can't move. What the fuck did you do?"
"Holy shit, I swear, I'm trying my hardest to move, but he's. It's like he's hypnotized us."
Shikamaru starts walking towards the four, and with each step he takes, so they take a similar step in his direction. "Not hypnosis. That would be too much effort," Shikamaru says quietly, his brown eyes scanning over all of them.
It feels like there's a fifth person watching, but he doesn't know from where just yet.