Chapter Text
Shikamaru takes one look at the title of the mission scroll, snaps it closed without reading the rest, and storms into the new Hokage’s office to complain about it.
For him, it’s a familiar ritual - but it’s the first time that he’s bitching to the Sixth instead of the Fifth. Lady Tsunade was a legendary ninja and great Hokage, but patience wasn’t one of her virtues. She usually cut him off after the first few words, chewed him out for daring to bother her, and sent him packing. In this way, Shikamaru found himself saddled with more and more responsibility until, before he knew it, he was one of the Leaf’s top jonin and pseudo-advisor to its Hokage. All because he didn’t dare push back too hard against that fearsome woman.
Kakashi does not cut him off. He hears Shikamaru out, listening intently, his expression beneath the mask absolutely unreadable. His two very normal eyes - a recent development, that - bore into Shikamaru’s own, waiting patiently for the Nara to exhaust his long (albeit accurate) protest.
“I’m too involved,” Shikamaru concludes. As if he’s been writing a persuasive essay, he ticks off the points of his closing argument - summarizing what came before. “I led the mission to retrieve him when he defected - and almost lost my best friend in the process. Then he worked with the group that killed Asuma-sensei. Then his ancestor killed my father. Then he tried to kill the only guy I respect enough to be the Seventh Hokage!”
“Naruto,” Kakashi points out, “is in here every day pleading for Sasuke’s release.”
Shikamaru rolls his eyes at that. They both know Naruto isn’t normal. Nobody Shikamaru has ever met is capable of that much compassion and kindness. Which is exactly why the Nara is so passionate (about something, for once) to see Naruto become the Hokage. He’s exactly what the Leaf needs to finally break through its bloody and close-minded history. To drag the village, kicking and screaming, into the modern age.
“So give Naruto the mission.”
Kakashi just stares at him. Shikamaru’s will breaks first; he groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah yeah, I know the Council and the Clan Heads won’t go for it. He might be the big damn hero who saved the whole damn world, but some of them still think he should be locked up in the adjoining cell.”
“More importantly,” Kakashi says, his tone very serious, “He’s biased. And so am I. So is Sakura.” That’s putting it lightly - the poor woman is still obviously in love with her childhood crush. Shikamaru would pity her if she wouldn’t take it as an insult and punch a hole right through him. “If he’s to be released, I want an objective analysis of his mental state, first.”
“I’m hardly objective, sir. I’ve been trying to tell you-”
“So what? Try and find me a surviving Leaf jonin who didn’t lose someone in this war,” Kakashi says, and the way he gestures at a towering stack of files gives Shikamaru no doubt that it’s a serious threat.
“Point taken,” Shikamaru mutters, because the only thing he hates more than the idea of this mission is more paperwork.
“There’s nobody else,” the new Hokage says. His voice is now soft and earnest, which sends a chill down Shikamaru’s spine - that can’t be good. “You’re the only one I trust to analyze him properly.”
“I don’t even like the guy,” Shikamaru complains. But his tone of voice says he’s giving in, and they both know it.
Kakashi doesn’t lower his mask, but he’s definitely smiling. Shikamaru can tell from the crinkling at the corner of his eyes. “So much the better.”
One day in the cell is so much like the next that even a mind as disciplined as Sasuke’s is starting to lose track of time. The Leaf is treating him surprisingly well, considering - it’s a clean and comfortable cell, and he’s fed regularly and sufficiently - but it is still prison. And there’s been nothing to break up the monotony. No visitors allowed, the guards say.
Part of Sasuke wonders if Kakashi, Naruto, or Sakura have even tried. But it’s that part of himself - self-hating, insecure, angry - that he knows, now, is no good for him. He let it drive him and control him for so long that it’s difficult, at first, to push back against it. But if solitary confinement is good for one thing, it’s self-reflection.
Sasuke doesn’t believe in much, but he believes in Naruto. He knows, intellectually, that Naruto would come to see him if he could. Now it’s just a matter of telling his emotions to catch up with his brain.
Look on the bright side, he tells himself. He might not have any visitors, but he hasn’t been interrogated (tortured), either. He’d been bracing himself for it, but T&I didn’t come. From what little Sasuke can get out of his stone-faced and tight-lipped guards, he gathers that he’s become quite the political headache for the new Hokage (still unnamed, only referred to as the Sixth in his presence) and the advisory Council.
Seeing as it’s the same Council that once condemned his entire clan to death, and sent his brother to do the job, Sasuke doesn’t have much sympathy. It’s petty, but he hopes that worrying about what to do with him is keeping those old men and women up at night.
One day - it’s either five or six weeks since he was locked up, Sasuke isn’t sure - he finally does get a visitor. He watches, eyes narrowed, as Shikamaru Nara stops in front of his cell, slouched over, hands in the pockets of his jacket.
A jonin jacket. Sasuke has evidently missed a lot. From what little he remembers of their Academy days, Shikamaru was almost as dumb as Naruto. Never paid attention in class, slept through every lecture, had the grades to show for it.
“It’s a drag,” Shikamaru says (his voice is deeper, sure, but has the same lazy drawl to it), “but I’ve been assigned to oversee your… situation.”
“Where’s Naruto?” Sasuke asks. He tries not to sound desperate, and isn’t sure he succeeds.
“Still in the hospital,” the Nara says. “I hear Lady Tsunade and Sakura worked one of their medical miracles, grew a whole new arm for him.” He regards Sasuke’s own missing limb, pointedly.
Straight out of the interrogation manuals. Offer the prisoner something if they cooperate, threaten to punish them if they refuse. Sasuke steels himself for the accompanying threat, but it doesn’t come. Shikamaru yawns, scratches the back of his neck, looks around the cell, acting as if he’s perfectly content to wait for Sasuke’s response.
Or maybe he isn’t acting. Maybe he really is just that apathetic.
“He’s still recovering from surgery?” Sasuke asks eventually, just to break the silence.
“Nah. Physical therapy, making sure his body won’t reject the arm. Don’t envy him. Lady Tsunade's a real slave-driver.”
“Hn,” Sasuke grunts.
Shikamaru eyes him for a moment, sighs. “You can ask. It’s written all over your face. ‘Why hasn’t he or Sakura made time to visit me?’”
“I don’t care,” Sasuke says quickly, automatically. The defense mechanism he’s built up for years. He knows it’s not healthy, but he can’t help it.
He also doesn’t fool Shikamaru, who just rolls his eyes. “They tried, believe me. Psych shut it down. Said it wouldn’t be healthy for anyone at the moment.”
“Psych?” Sasuke asks. “Isn’t that just the civilian cover for T&I?”
“It was - when you left. But Lady Tsunade’s put a lot of emphasis on modernizing the village medical program. We have the best hospital in the Elemental Nations now, not to mention actual mental health professionals.” Shikamaru smirks, considering him. “Unfortunately for you, that means a padded couch in your near future.”
“Whatever it takes,” Sasuke says.
“Wow. You sound so earnest. I almost believe you.”
Sasuke doesn’t rise to the bait. “You’re no therapist. What’s your role?”
“Analyst,” Shikamaru says. “Administrator. The guy who’s gonna write the scroll that authorizes your full release. Oh, and the the one whose head they’ll call for when you snap and murder someone. Simply put, I’m the warden and you’re the pain in my ass.”
He looks at Sasuke expectantly. Sasuke counters with another grunt.
“Okay,” Shikamaru says, once the silence stretches to the point of being uncomfortable. “Well, as your warden, I say it’s about time you got out of here. You’re still in custody, mind, but you’ve been cooperative. We can transition to house arrest instead of a cell. Bet a non-communal shower sounds nice right about now, huh?”
If he wants Sasuke to be grateful, he’ll be kept waiting. Sasuke just nods. For all he knows, this is some long con interrogation technique. Set him up with a nicer accommodation, then send in a Yamanaka once his mental defenses are lowered.
He’ll play along. For now.
The guards really don’t like it when Shikamaru orders them to hand over the keys to the chakra dampening cuffs. The way they look at Sasuke, it’s obvious they expect him to attack them the moment he’s physically capable of it. Shikamaru overrides their objections, pulling rank and sending them back into the jail, tails between their legs.
Sasuke watches Shikamaru with narrowed eyes. He isn’t sure what to make of it, either. He actually stops Shikamaru before he can remove the cuffs.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?”
“Like you’re about to make a mistake. The moment I have my chakra back, I’ll be able to kill you where you stand.”
Shikamaru’s lips twitch. “You’re mistaken, on three counts.”
“Oh?”
The Nara lifts three fingers, starts ticking them down. “One - consider our differing combat objectives. You’d have to kill me and get moving in under sixty seconds - the average ANBU response time to a jonin chakra flare signal. Meanwhile, I’d just need to survive that long. Yeah, you’re a lot stronger than me, but my job is a lot easier. That matters.”
Second finger down. “Two - you’re not going to attack me. If you wanted to be a missing-nin, you wouldn’t have come back to the Leaf willingly in the first place. You want to jump through whatever hoops I put up, and come back out the other side a free man.”
Third finger down. A smirk. “Third - Naruto would be very disappointed in you.”
“That’s it?” Sasuke asks, in spite of himself.
“That’s the most important point of all,” Shikamaru says, quite seriously. “I dunno what the two of you have going on, but he’s obviously the only one you respect. You reached some understanding while you were blowing each others’ arms off, and you won’t violate it - Not as long as the Leaf is acting in good faith, ourselves. Which, believe it or not, I intend to do.”
Sasuke nods, conceding the point. He’s been underestimating Shikamaru. The way that his former classmate had broken down the strategic situation, accurately guessed Sasuke’s motivations, and recognized his odd bond with Naruto - that was analysis worthy of a jonin.
“Okay,” he says, quietly. “What now?”
“Like I said, house arrest. More of a shack, really. But it has running water and electricity - and you won’t be disturbed, because it’s right on the edge of the Nara Forest and people know better than to get near that without the Clan Head’s - without my permission.”
Sasuke notes the pause. A new title for Shikamaru, then, one that he wasn’t used to. The Nara clan head when Sasuke defected had been Jonin Commander Shikaku Nara. Shikamaru’s father. No points for guessing what had happened to him. The war has left its scars on all of them - some more visible than others.
He still isn’t sure where Shikamaru stands on the Sasuke Uchiha Issue, and he doesn't like not knowing things. But he eventually holds out his hands and allows the other man to unlock the cuffs.
His chakra control rushes back - a heady feeling, as if he’d suddenly learned to hear again after being deaf for weeks. Even one-armed, he wields such power. His eyes alone could burn Shikamaru to a crisp, reduce him to gibbering madness-
But not today. For Naruto’s sake, if nothing else.
Sasuke watches Shikamaru relax - he’d been confident in his analysis, but hadn’t been able to stop himself from tensing up. The jonin’s hands disappear into his vest, producing a pack of cigarettes and a well-worn lighter. The ritual of lighting one and placing it to his lips seems to calm him down.
“Want one?” Shikamaru says. The offer is clearly an afterthought. He’s already put the pack back into his jacket.
Sasuke’s lip curls. “No. I don’t put poison in my body.”
“Eh, we’re ninja. It won’t be the cancer that kills me,” Shikamaru says. This gloomy piece of fatalism is delivered with such a straight face that Sasuke almost smiles. Almost.
“Hurry up,” he says, instead.
“What’s the rush? If I’d been locked in a cell for six weeks, I’d want to walk around a bit. Breathe the open air.” Shikamaru expels a long stream of smoke into the space between them, as if to deliberately undercut his own advice.
“I’d prefer to be alone,” Sasuke says. Even if it does mean trading one cell for a slightly nicer upgrade.
“Okay. Have it your way.” Shikamaru starts walking, puffing away at the cigarette, his pace insultingly, deliberately slow - as if he’s just out on a casual stroll, not escorting the Leaf’s most dangerous prisoner.
Sasuke grits his teeth - but falls in line behind Shikamaru. What other choice does he have?