Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. However, the OCs do belong to me.

Prologue: A Ghost in the Shell

"Speech"

A note, emphasis on the word, thought, or flashback

"This man suffered too much. He hated all this, and somehow he couldn't get away. When I had a chance I begged him to try and leave while there was time; I offered to go back with him. And he would say yes, and then he would remain..."

Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Pain, all he felt was pain in his whole body.

He took a shallow breath and winced.

Damn, it hurt.

He glanced at his left leg, where white bone protruded itself from what was left of his severed knee – painted by the crimson beauty that was his own blood – the token of his approaching end.

Wasn't it such a burlesque, that the one that others perceived as weak ended up to be the one who died the last?

Even Naruto, the troublesome blond who had grown to be so powerful, the one who had finally won everyone's respect, died in the final battle against Sasuke to erase the latter's so called 'Curse of Hatred' – ironically after both of them teamed up to protect the Shinobi World from total destruction, signaling the new era of peace and all of that idealistic rubbish.

What a joke.

But still, they moved on. The deaths were buried or cremated. They rebuilt the village and they returned to their usual lives.

The same thing could not be said for him though.

Tsunade, the former Fifth Hokage, who had lost her mind in the midst of grieving for Naruto, had abandoned Konoha and fled into a place that only she knew of, causing a vacuum of power in Konoha.

Thus, came the Hokage appointment.

Every great village needed its leader after all, a.k.a. the sacrificial lamb that would have to die first in case something horrible endangered the village. Naturally, Kakashi was offered the position; however, the man was too drowned in self-pity, believing himself to be a disgrace and unworthy of the title as he had failed to protect his comrades, or so he said.

Things continued like that, bickering over who would be the next Hokage. Then one day, he, Nara Shikamaru, for a reason that even he was not sure of, was inaugurated as the Sixth Fire Shadow.

Although he did not want it, he acted professionally and fulfilled his Hokage's duty to the best of his ability. The least that he could do to honor the death was making sure that Konoha was in a good hand. Admittedly he felt quite lost at the beginning. There were too many problems to fix and too little manpower to use. It was by no mean an easy process, but slowly all of his efforts began to pay out as things went back to normal. Konoha was functioning again and the political climate of the Elemental Nation finally had a somewhat amiable atmosphere.

Shikamaru let himself be lulled into a false sense of security. He believed that the peace that each village kept on fighting for might not be so far-fetched after all.

For all of his geniuses, Shikamaru was still a fool. A naive fool.

Peace, after all, was a fragile thing. It was something that was hard to maintain without a powerhouse like Naruto keeping other villages in check. He could spy on his allies and kept a tight leash on his enemies if he wanted to; however, Shikamaru could not control human greed. He could not control that black bottomless pit that exhausted one's soul in an endless effort to satisfy one's need without ever reaching satisfaction. It was human nature to want more, to desire more, to seek more.

Thus, skirmishes at the borders happened again. A race to create military weapons followed them, causing the growing tension in the political atmosphere of the Elemental Nation.

Then the Fifth Shinobi War broke out. It was an all-out war between the Five Great Shinobi Villages.

Did not want to be left out, the Daimyōs and their allies, who were fed up with the shinobi, believing them to be the source of problems in Elemental Nation, formed another faction and joined the murder party where chaos and hell that was war ensued, causing poverty and economic collapse.

It was not the first time that Shikamaru thought that Madara and Obito, despite their rather misguided methods, were right after all. Man sought peace, yet at the same time yearned for war. The selfish desire of wanting to maintain said peace would cause wars, and in turn hatred would be born to protect love. It was an unending cycle of misery and death.

The war went on and on. There was no winner. What's there to win when people keep on dying left and right? What's there to win when villages and cities alike are razed to the ground?

It was as society began to crumble and people started to kill each other for food and survival that everyone realized what they had done.

They had destroyed themselves.

What was once a dignified and civilized race was reduced to a mere animal. Killing others became a daily occurrence, a somewhat normal routine even. It was to kill or be killed. There was no place for morals or compassion.

You wake up. You hunt. You sleep. Repeat.

How far the mighty have fallen.

Pathetic.

Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki – widely known as the Sage of Six Paths – stared at the place that was once called Elemental Nation. His expression was pensive.

Hagoromo had thought that one Uzumaki Naruto would finally bring peace into the world, succeeding where others had failed. However, the reality was very far from expectation, as the young Uzumaki was dead and the world was in the state of anarchy.

He wondered that if things had been different, would there have been peace in the world?

Could peace even exist?

Had his mother always been right after all?

His powerful gaze shifted to the floating spirit of the last Hokage.

Hagoromo felt pity for the man. The man's soul felt sad, lonely – empty. He had lost his faith in life and humanity. He had lost his belief in peace. He had given the world his best, he deserved a final rest. However, Hagoromo could not let that happen – not yet. Someone still had to fix the future.

Hagoromo had many things that he regretted in life. He had failed his duty as a father, he had failed his duty as a leader, and he had failed to bring peace that he had promised the world.

Hagoromo was already at the end of his wit and this man was his best gamble to make things right.

After all,it was only someone who was thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that could thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.

Shikamaru glared at the mirror with unrestrained hatred.

Why did Kami do this to him? Did the gods above hate him so much? What the hell did they want?!

He just wanted to die! Was that too much to ask?

Not only was he a weak and helpless toddler who lived in the Warring State period – a miserable time where the mortality-rate was so high that children were taught how to kill once they knew how to walk and speak – someone who shoved him into this containment did not even have the decency to give him a male body. Apparently the dunderhead that bestowed him this curse had decided that it was funny to watch the puny human squirmed and writhed and decided out of the blue to put him inside a baby girl, because why the fuck not?!

He was shoved and forced into this… this prison without his own permission. He felt trapped and suffocated.

Every time he looked into the mirror, all that he could see was a foreign face staring back at him.

It was still the same black eyes and the same black hair. However, the eyes were too big and the hair was too long. The cheeks were too soft and the lips were too full.

She was such a pretty little girl.

He wanted to kill her.

He gripped the mirror tighter, as if choking it, hoping that the ghost inside would be choked too.

The glass started to crack under the pressure of his hands. He watched as the girl kept on staring at him with those dark murderous eyes, taunting and mocking him.

What? You're going to kill me? It won't happen, honey. I am YOU, and you are ME!

No, she was not him. That abomination could not be him.

Yes I am, the high-pitched voice gloated.

She was not Nara Shikamaru. She was Nara Shikari.

We're the same person, she said.

No, they were not.

You're in denial, the girl whispered sweetly.

Feeling fed up, he harshly punched the mirror and broke it into hundreds little pieces.

He watched as blood descended from the girl's bloody knuckles into her unmarred soft palm with no small amount of satisfaction.

Now the girl won't be so pretty anymore.

Shikamaru clenched his fist and chuckled hollowly.

Who was he kidding?

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