Through The Veil

Introduction: This piece is collaboration between the wonderful Sris and myself. This is kind of a new way to do collaborations, one I like to call ‘the letter method’. In other words, Sris and I are writing chapters, but we’re writing them completely independently of each other. I’m starting off with the first chapter, and then she’ll take the story wherever she wants it to go in her chapter, and then it’s my turn again. Oh the possibilities!

Mindless Disclaimer: Sris and I don’t own any portion of the Naruto fandom, and no money is generated through the distribution of this fan fiction. Also, if you are under the legal age to read erotic material, or if it is prohibited in the area where you live, please bugger off. If yaoi (homosexual) material offends you in any way, again, please bugger off.

Shikamaru was puzzled at the serenity of the corridor outside his classroom as he walked back from having a word with Umino Iruka. He had left specific instructions with his students to sit quietly and solve the questions he had left for them on the blackboard, but he had hardly expected to return with the class quiet like the dead. Especially given their usual obnoxious behavior. This serenity could only mean one of two things. Either his entire class had committed ritual suicide, or they were up to something unsavory.

Several scenarios passed through his mind, and he discarded all but one before stopping in front of the thin layer of wood that separated him from the unnerving silence of his classroom. By his measure there was only one thing they could be up to, and much as he hated to admit it, he would rather have seen them dead than face it.

Shikamaru pressed a firm hand against the sliding door before exhaling a deep, unmotivated breath and silently repeating a familiar mantra. –How troublesome–

When the door came fully open he braced himself, and fought the urge to cringe.

“Happy Birthday Shikamaru Sensei!” his class bellowed up at him.

They all hurried to bunch in and huddle around him, some of them even hung about his legs, completely immobilizing him. The children’s faces were alight with grins and not one of them was without a birthday hat or some cheap dollar store noisemaker. Shikamaru gave himself a little smile as well when he took in the classroom itself. From floor to eaves it had been decorated with streamers, well-wishing posters, and an enormous birthday ribbon. He was really quite pleased with their speed and organization in getting all of it done in such a short time. After all, he had only been gone for a moment.

The room filled itself with a milieu of short bangs as confetti floated down onto Shikamaru’s topknot. One of the students scurried off at a whisper from one of his friends to kill the lights and Shikamaru began to hear the distant melody of someone singing from down the hall. The sound was followed by a warm, glowing light, and he squinted to see that it was Iruka-san, holding a cake. As Iruka stepped into the classroom all of his students enthusiastically chimed in on the song.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…”

This looks like a drag, and it feels like one too, Shikamaru finished silently to himself.

When they were done Iruka leaned forward with his arms outstretched to push the cake under Shikamaru’s nose, and he was beckoned to blow out the number 17 emblazoned upon it. It was best to get this nonsense over and done with as quickly as possible, Shikamaru thought, so he could continue his interrupted lesson. He took a deep breath and blew, only to find the candles unusually resilient.

Great, trick candles, he sighed inwardly.

His students giggled up at him, and Iruka joined them with a hearty laugh.

Iruka, you moron… Why would you undermine the student-teacher relationship I’ve built with this class?

The Shadow Strategist of the Konoha Shinobi had no use at all for this type of foolishness. He had become an instructor to shape the best ninja ever to study at the academy, not to throw parties and eat Gods-forsaken cake. He had just gotten over drilling into his class that he was not their friend, that he was not their mommy or daddy, and that he most certainly was not their babysitter. He was their teacher, and when he said jump they had better make for the ceiling because his teachings meant the difference between life and death on the battlefield. Disobedience and foolhardiness only lead to death in the field. Like so many before…

Shikamaru quickly pulled himself out of that line of thought. There was nothing more he could do for those who had fallen under his command. The most he could offer in recompense was to give up ANBU counter-intelligence in lieu of becoming a full academy instructor. And these were his first students since becoming a full-fledged teacher. He’d be damned if he let his very first batch go bad.

Iruka had probably been in on the whole stupid idea to begin with. That must have been why the baka had pulled him from his lesson on improving kunai trajectories to help decide on which drinks Iruka should provide at his wedding next week.

That’s right. Iruka was getting married… and to a girl no less.

It had only been a day since Shikamaru had found out, and he was still crushed. The baka was getting married to some young tart he’d met outside the villages’ newest bathhouse, and the very idea was enough to melt the cake in Shikamaru’s hands. After all, the man he’d been nursing a crush on for nearly four years was about to be swept away by his impromptu matrimony. There was nothing for it, though. And as long as his friend was content that was enough.

Happy birthday to me, the Shinobi whispered bitterly to himself.

“Shikamaru-sensei… Shikamaru sensei!” One of his students, Youbin, tugged at his sleeve. “What’s wrong Shikamaru sensei? Don’t you know you won’t get your wish if you don’t blow out all the candles?”

“Yeah, don’t you like the cake we made for you Sensei? We made it ourselves, without any help!” another chimed.

Shikamaru blinked. He kept his face stolid to keep his feelings hidden, but he took a deep breath and stretched his shadow into the darkened room to grip the candles with it. Then he blew out sharply for show, strengthened his shadowy grip, and the flames guttered and died out. The student’s whooped for his mock success.

Their shouts redoubled when Shikamaru breathed a sullen, “Class Dismissed.” And by the time the whooping had echoed through the room, he had gone.


~*~*~*

Iruka blinked in surprise a few times when he heard Shikamaru give the command that dismissed his students for the day. They had all just returned from lunch, so there was no way he had concluded his lesson plan. That really wasn’t like him.

Shikamaru hadn’t been the same since he’d invited the new instructor to his wedding to act as his best man. Iruka’s first choice had been Naruto but, well… that simply couldn’t be helped.

Shikamaru had the sharpest mind of any student he had raised in the Academy. True, some of his confidence had been damaged in his last battles as an active duty Shinobi in the war against the enemies of Konoha. Every one of the ANBU counter-intel operatives under his command had been ruthlessly slaughtered. His second in command had been a mole, and even he eventually died by Shikamaru’s own enraged hand, making it a complete loss.

From the Hokage to the most non-descript farmer, no one in Konoha blamed Shikamaru for what had happened, though he still carried on the heavy burden of grief and betrayal. Only time could heal that sort of wound, and as for his redoubled emotional distance... Iruka didn’t believe it hopeless. Even deep seated mistrust could ebb away with time.

The boy was still adept at controlling his emotions, but now he had even less patience to suffer fools. Yet that was one of the things he liked most about the boy. In fact, for years Iruka had seen infinite potential within him.

If only he had been blessed with some ambition to offset his talent! His power over the world of shadows had grown beyond that of any Shinobi from any village recorded in the histories. His genius had even allowed him to develop nearly unparalleled techniques, such as traveling almost instantly over long distances from within the world of shadows. Something he called ‘shadowstepping’. Perhaps shadow was no longer the most fitting word, as he had puzzled out a way to break himself of that limitation. The darkness itself had become his ally, his tool.

Iruka often despaired over the small hurdle of Shikamaru’s lackluster ambition. If only he had been born with a quarter of the burning intent that some of his other students had possessed! He could have easily followed any path he chose. ANBU commander-in-chief… Academy Chancellor… Perhaps even Hokage.

Iruka felt the slight thrill of fear at the thought of Shikamaru with a thirst for power. He could have been far more dangerous than Orochimaru himself if he had possessed that kind of appetite for greatness. Perhaps it was a blessing, a jutsu even, that had bestowed Shikamaru with such a peaceful and unambitious spirit.

Even when he was a boy Iruka had fretted over him above all his other students, worrying about Shikamaru’s unwillingness to assert himself for the things he wanted, or even needed. He remembered the unhappy period in his young life when one of the class toughs had cruelly tormented Shikamaru for befriending a less popular student, Akimichi Chouji. The lowbrow would crush his lunch nearly every day, and taunt him ceaselessly for nothing more than his choice of company. But Shikamaru would only lie there on top of a picnic table, unaffected as he stared up at the clouds in a daze. He sincerely paid no mind to the tormenting, regardless of the fact that he could have ground the bully into dust at a whim. It wasn’t merely discipline that had stayed his hand, it simply wasn’t until one of his friends or comrades had been threatened that the fire within Shikamaru exploded, and someone was severely burned.

He had never been one for celebration, or any true outward expression of his feelings for that matter, but Iruka was beginning to worry about the toll Shikamaru would face by remaining a prisoner of guilt.

As the last of Shikamaru-kun’s students left for home, Iruka offered a silent prayer to bestow his young friend with good karma. Then he stalked down the corridor to see about doing something to restore order in his own little class of miscreants.


~*~*~*

Shikamaru hiccupped into his wooden cup and felt the slight burn of Sake rising from his throat. No better remedy for Sake coming up then to drink some more down, his father had always said. He had left the Academy and shadowstepped straight to the only bar he frequented. It wasn’t a conspicuous bar, but it was the only public place he had come to frequent since the Massacre at Three Points all those months ago. He stared into his cup and was met by the faces of the dead. He honestly couldn’t decide whether the Sake helped drown the memories, or if it only urged them to torment him all the more.

But all of them were… gone. All his comrades murdered simply because he’d been too passive to realize that he had a stinking spy working from within his organization. Konohamaru had been too impatient to find his potential and surpass his hyperactive idol. He had made himself all too ripe to fall into the same trap as the two Uchiha’s.

Some people will do anything for power, he thought disgustedly.

And if you had been just a little more aggressive, a little more on guard, then you could have saved Konohamaru from that path, and no one would have had to suffer because of Three Points.

He heard the truth of it.

And that’s why I fucking hate you, he breathed to himself.

Shikamaru unsteadily got himself to his feet and threw some money down on the bar. No one looked at him disparagingly for his rude behavior, but then no one had to. He came to the Cherry Blossom to drink because he knew that there were no family members here of those who had died under his command, and no off-duty ANBU operatives frequented the establishment. He could stew in his own thoughts without feeling the extra weight of eyes boring into his shoulder blades, or straight into his soul.

The room swam from a mixture of booze and the tears that Shikamaru absolutely refused to shed. Cheer up! He chastised himself. You’re just in a sour mood because of Iruka’s wedding. The past is past. Let’s just go find something relaxing to do.

He dubiously crouched low under the entryway and left the bar, winding his way into the evening streets of eastern Konoha. He walked aimlessly, having no place in particular that he wanted to go. He simply thought that it might be nice for once to go wherever the wind took him. The thought occurred to him that he might have enjoyed a seafaring life, maybe even been a pirate. What could be better than living unbound by the strictures of society, with no one leaning on you for support? Just every man for himself, and the constant exhilaration of the sea.

He began to hum a little ditty as he went along. An old melancholy tune he had heard his father sing on many an occasion when he had been sent to fetch the old man home. He tried to remember the words.

Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?

Below the branches, here about,
Do not you sense my fear and doubt?
Side glistening rivers, sparkling streams,
Do not you sense my stolen dreams?

Shikamaru’s thoughts halted abruptly as he took in his surrounding and realized where his feet had taken him. He was standing directly in front of The Red Mountain, the very premier bathhouse where Iruka had met his bride-to-be.

“Fan-fucking-tabulous!” Shikamaru cursed aloud. Anywhere… why couldn’t he have landed anywhere but here?

He hobbled over to lean against the wall of the bathhouse with a tipsy chuckle, and his nose immediately wrinkled at the smell of his own breath. He could only imagine what the rest of him smelled like, but it was probably something akin to a month old batch of Sake. This was a pretty expensive joint, so he definitely didn’t want to be caught lounging against it smelling like a vagrant.

Even so, Shikamaru thought, it was his birthday, and he really did need a bath, which worked out nicely since he was already there. The situation actually amused him; it was kind of funny, in a karmic sense.

Shikamaru righted himself and stepped through the entryway to find a man snoozing at the finely polished marble reception desk. He didn’t really feel any need to bother him, so he simply dug into his pocket and deposited a fist full of money onto the countertop. However, the old man stirred regardless.

“Oh that’s a hefty sum muh’ boy,” the old man offered sleepily, his eyes lidded. He certainly had quite the ear for money.

“Oh yes, plenty. Now run along and enjoy yourself, you definitely look as though you could use some warm relief. The premium hot springs are just the thing for you. Help yourself to anything you need.” Then the old man picked up where he left off, snoring away.

“Uh… thanks,” Shikamaru muttered as he stumbled away in search of a toothbrush.


~*~*~*


Shikamaru slowly unclothed himself in the dressing room adjacent to the hot springs. He sighed as he lifted his black fishnet shirt over his head, he could already feel a bit of the comforting warmth of the springs soothing his skin. His senses always ripened a bit when he drank, and he truly enjoyed touch the most out of his senses. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped himself, letting his trousers fall in a heap, forgotten. He hooked his thumbs into his jet black low rise underwear and pulled them down as well, releasing his confined member. He really did need to make a point to get larger sized underwear, because although the form fitting ones he wore accentuated him nicely, he was a bit large for them.

Shikamaru stepped out of his shoes and stood in the middle of the room nude, giving himself a moment to stretch out almost catlike and to relax without the confines of clothing. He simply enjoyed being in the nude, and he especially liked the side-long glances he received from people who saw him in the nude. That look that told him ‘I was hungry, and I didn’t even know why until I met you.’ He chuckled to himself again. He felt at ease now, much more at ease than before.

He yawned before stepping up to the bamboo barred viewing window to gaze across the hot springs he’d soon be relaxing in.

What he saw actually surprised him.

..And began a familiar stirring in his loins.

Out amongst the steaming waters and green bamboo spouts sat Inuzuka Kiba, a certain someone that Shikamaru had not seen for over six months since he had left for special training with his clan. That had been even before the massacre at Three Points.

Yet there he was, very wet, very nude, and very much stroking his long, thick member with his eyes squeezed shut and the most adorable look plastered about his face.

Kiba whimpered as his cock wept for release, and the very sound of it drove Shikamaru’s own length to grow deliciously hard…

He took it back. He was beginning to think that sight was his favorite of the five senses.