Work Text:
The smoke curls, a stream of haze twisting up into the space between them. He waits for the sting in his eyes to come but there is none, and the air feels oddly bereft without its usual sharp bite of tobacco burning.
"Are you real?"
There is no answer, and he can't quite bring himself to blink.
"Kurenai misses you," he says.
A tear slips down the side of his face, and Shikamaru thinks maybe he can smell the bitter tang of cigarette smoke after all.
We miss you, he wants to say.