"Two years have passed since the Fourth Great War. Shikamaru, now twenty years old, finds himself contemplating a journey around the world a chance to leave the heavy burdens of the past behind and finally enjoy a life of peace."
Shikamaru was deeply heartbroken after his breakup with Temari. He had truly loved her, but he was beginning to realize that some things—no matter how hard you try—are simply never meant to be.
The late afternoon sun cast long, weary shadows over the village as Shikamaru found his friends gathered at their usual haunt. The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and the familiar, raucous laughter that usually brought him comfort, but today, his heart felt like a stone in his chest.
As the steam rose from the table, Shikamaru set his chopsticks down, the clatter echoing in a sudden silence. He looked at Choji and Ino, his oldest companions, and began to speak.
The Scene at the Yakiniku Q
"I'm leaving," Shikamaru said, his voice barely more than a murmur, yet it cut through the noise of the restaurant.
Choji paused, a piece of succulent beef halfway to his mouth. "Leaving? You mean for a mission? How long will you be gone?"
Shikamaru shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame beneath the grill. "No. Not a mission. I'm just... going. I need to see what's out there, beyond the gates. Two years since the war, and I feel like I'm still standing in the same patch of shadows."
Ino leaned forward, her sharp eyes softening with a rare flash of intuition. "It's about Temari, isn't it?"
Shikamaru winced, the name still a jagged edge in his mind. "Maybe. Partially. We loved each other, Ino, but some things just don't fit, no matter how much you try to force them. I think I've spent too much time being the strategist for everyone else's life. I need to find my own pace for a while."
"But the village," Choji worried, finally setting his food down. "The Hokage needs you. We need you."
"Kakashi understands," Shikamaru replied, a faint, tired smile touching his lips. "He knows that a strategist who's lost his way isn't much use to anyone. I need to find a bit of peace—maybe even see if there's someone else out there who can make the world feel less like a 'troublesome' drag."
Ino reached across the table, resting her hand briefly on his. "You're looking for a fresh start. Just promise us you won't be a stranger, Shikamaru. The world is a big place."
"I know," he exhaled, looking toward the window where the first stars were beginning to peek through the twilight. "And that's exactly why I have to go."
The dawn broke in shades of bruised violet and pale gold, a quiet morning that seemed to respect the weight of his departure. At the Great Gate of Konoha, the air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. His friends had gathered one last time, a small circle of familiar faces that made the act of stepping away feel like tearing a leaf from a branch.
"Five years," Choji said, his voice thick with an emotion he tried to hide behind a half-eaten bag of chips. "That's a long time to go without a proper meal with us, Shikamaru."
Shikamaru adjusted the strap of his pack, feeling the unfamiliar lightness of traveling for himself rather than the village. "I'll return," he promised, his gaze lingering on each of them. "I just need to find where the wind takes me. Five years is enough time to figure out if I'm still the man I think I am."
Ino stepped forward, her eyes shimmering but her posture firm. "Don't you dare come back more 'troublesome' than you already are. And Shikamaru... find what you're looking for. Even if it's not what you expect."
He offered them a final, lazy two-finger salute—a gesture that masked the ache of saying goodbye to the only life he had ever known. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."
With a deep breath, he turned his back on the towering green gates. The path ahead was long and winding, disappearing into the thick canopy of the forest. Every step away from the village felt like a shedding of old skin. He wasn't the shadow of the Hokage today; he wasn't the grieving lover or the weary soldier. He was simply a man walking into the unknown.
As the village disappeared behind the treeline, Shikamaru looked up at the clouds drifting aimlessly across the sky. For the first time in years, he didn't have a plan. And for the first time, that was exactly what he wanted.
The canopy above whispered with the rustle of ancient leaves, filtering the midday sun into shifting patterns of gold and grey across the dirt path. Shikamaru walked with a slow, rhythmic gait, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. For an hour, the only company he kept was the steady beat of his own boots and the occasional cry of a bird deep within the brush. The solitude was a balm, a quiet space where he didn't have to be a strategist or a hero—he could just be a man.
The silence was eventually broken by the rhythmic, heavy thud of hooves and the slow, rhythmic creak of wooden wheels. Curious, Shikamaru followed the sound until he emerged into a small clearing. There, parked in the dappled shade, was a sturdy carriage. An old man sat upon the driver's bench, his face a map of deep wrinkles and sun-weathered skin. He was hunched over a simple wooden bowl, quietly finishing a meal while his horse took a well-earned rest.
The old man looked up, his eyes sharp despite his age, and a slow smile spread across his face.
"A long walk for a young man with such a heavy shadow," the old man remarked, his voice like the rustle of dry parchment. He set his bowl aside and gestured toward the empty seat beside him. "The name is Bana. Tell me, traveler, what brings someone like you so deep into these woods? The spirits of the forest are the only ones who usually walk this path alone."
Shikamaru leaned against a nearby tree, exhaling a long, weary breath. "Just looking for some air, I suppose. And a bit of distance from the things I've left behind."
Bana nodded slowly, as if he had heard that story a thousand times before. "Distance is a fine thing, but the road is long and the sun is unforgiving. I'm heading toward the next town—a place with warm hearths and stories yet untold. It's a few hours yet by foot, but the carriage has plenty of room if you're looking for a change of pace."
Shikamaru looked at the old man, then at the winding road ahead. "I think I've done enough walking for one morning," he admitted, his voice softening. "I'd appreciate the lift, Bana."