Tears bristled in the small boy's eyes and he screamed, "I wish you weren't my Dad!"

Shikamaru froze. He'd expect that kind of outburst from Boruto, but certainly not from his own son. It felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest with a poisoned kunai. Six little words had managed to completely immobilize him, and for the first time since he could remember, he'd been rendered speechless.

Unlike Boruto, Shikadai didn't settle his problems by picking a fight. After all, senseless violence rarely solved anything, unless it was in one of his video games. Shikadai found fighting to be troublesome, and, more often than not, not a worthwhile use of his energy. So for him to come right out and instigate a fight with his father...

"Well, Shikadai..." Shikamaru stuffed his hands into his pockets, before slowly approaching the eleven-year-old. "I'm sorry that you feel that way. But I'm always going to be your Dad, whether you like it or not."

Shikadai frowned, clearly not pleased with his father's answer. "Well, you're a fucking shitty Dad! Why'd I have to get stuck with you?"

Shikamaru's eyes widened. He'd never heard his son use that type of language before, and he didn't like it. "Now, listen. I understand that you're upset. But I will not tolerate you taking that tone with me and speaking to me that way, do you understand?"

Silence. Certainly an improvement from the nasty back-and-forth they'd been having, but it still made Shikamaru uncomfortable. For the first time since Shikadai was a baby, Shikamaru couldn't read what was going on inside the boy's head. He didn't know what was hurting him and making him act out, and because of that, he couldn't make it better. This whole time, he'd been on the defensive.

The only problem with that was that he and Shikadai were almost painfully alike, so much so that Shikadai knew just the right buttons to push and when to really get under his father's skin and hurt him. He'd taught his son to analyze his opponents to discover their weaknesses, and to use that to his advantage during battle. He just never thought that he'd have his own techniques used against him.

"You know what? I fucking hate you, old man!" And then Shikadai turned around and ran upstairs, slamming the door to his room closed behind him.

Shikamaru thought about following him, but then decided against it. Perhaps it would be better to let both parties cool off a bit before confronting the issue again. The last thing he wanted to do was further alienate his son.

Grabbing his cigarettes off the counter, he stuffed them into his pocket and grabbed half of the stack of paperwork from his desk. He took both of these out onto the back porch with him, hoping that the crisp, clean fall air would help him to clear his head - and perhaps ease a bit of the pain in his chest.

"I'm home!" Temari paused in the doorway, surprised to find the house seemingly deserted. "Shikamaru?" She checked his usual haunts, including his office, the bedroom, and the living room - no luck. "Shikadai?" She stopped outside of her son's room.

She knocked on the door, but received no answer. A quick check of the doorknob revealed that the door was locked. That was unusual. Normally, if Shikadai were merely taking a nap, he'd leave the door cracked slightly so that he'd hear when Temari called him for dinner. The boy never locked his door.

"Shikadai, are you in there?" She knocked again, this time a little bit louder.

"I just want to be alone, mom." Shikadai said softly. The knob turned and he poked his head out halfway, concealing the rest of his body in darkness. "Can you call me for dinner?"

Temari frowned, "Did something happen?"

Shikadai shook his head, retreating a bit further into his room. "I don't want to talk about it."

He tried to shut the door, but not before Temari saw. She grabbed the door and forced it open, silently hoping that her eyes had deceived her. No such luck. On Shikadai's forearm was a nasty looking cut, deep enough to be able to see bone, that had been hastily and poorly bandaged by the boy.

Shikadai stumbled back, flinching when Temari turned on his bedroom light. In the light, it was plain to see that Shikadai had gotten his ass handed to him - badly. Dark, nasty-looking bruises covered his arms and much of his upper-torso, and small, angry cuts littered his chest and abdominal region. Most of the wounds would have been covered by his clothing, but the few that would've been easily seen had been covered with what appeared to be make-up.

"Shikadai..." he flinched again at the concerned note in her voice. "What the hell happened to you?"

Shikadai stared at the ground, "Didn't I say I didn't want to talk about it?"

Temari grabbed him by the ear and tugged slightly, "Don't think that you can talk to me like that and get away with it, young man." Her eyes fell to his bloodied forearm. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, at least."

She took him over to the bed and had him sit down, before getting a better look at the wound. Whoever was responsible for this had certainly done a number on her son, and her blood boiled as she retrieved a wet washcloth to clean out the wound. What could it be that Shikadai was hiding from her?

The wound was far from fresh. Perhaps a week old, maybe older. Much too old for stitches, at any rate. Temari assumed that the wound had never been properly cleaned out and he was lucky he hadn't gotten an infection. It made her sick to her stomach to know that the wound was that old and she hadn't noticed a thing. Shikadai must've been in so much pain...

Once he was bandaged up, Temari took a seat beside him on the bed. He stared at the door, which she'd thankfully shut behind her, trying to ignore the tears that were streaking down his cheeks. Obviously something incredibly unpleasant had happened, something the boy wasn't too anxious to relive. She didn't want to continue to push, but knew there was no other way she'd get an answer out of her son.

Finally, Shikadai sighed. "It's because of the Chunin exams."

The Chunin exams? But that had been over a month ago. Temari frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Some of the other kids at the Academy picked a fight with me because they said I didn't win 'honestly' at the exams." Shikadai stared at his hands, "They said that the only reason I was promoted to Chunin was because my father had influence with the Hokage."

Temari was silent for a moment, before shaking her head, "But that doesn't even make sense. Why would the Hokage sacrifice his own son's promotion to Chunin on behalf of someone else?"

"They're ten-year-old kids with intellect equivalent to a goldfish - they're immune to logical argument." Shikadai said.

The kids had caught him while he was training, after he'd drained most of his chakra. He'd been exhausted and had to surrender almost immediately, but they'd ignored the white flag. The biggest of the boys had cracked him on the back of the neck so hard that he blacked out, and when he woke up his arm was bleeding heavily and his chest felt like there was an elephant seated on top of it.

He'd gotten the make-up from Sarada, who'd stolen it from her mother. He'd been doing his best to hide what had happened because he didn't want his parents to think that he was weak and couldn't defend himself. And then, the other day, everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

"They started to insult Dad, and his position in the Hokage's office. They said that he was just a lackey, a lap-dog, even. Clearly, he didn't have as much influence as they thought, because a father that really cared wouldn't let their son get beaten within an inch of his life without getting payback." Shikadai finished softly.

"Shikadai..." Temari trailed off, unsure of what exactly she could say that would comfort her son.

"And while I know that I hid what happened from him because I didn't want him to worry... I don't know, I guess that I wish he was around enough to have noticed? We got in a fight and I said some pretty crappy things..." Shikadai sounded resentful, but also uncertain.

"First of all, little fawn... you shouldn't have hid something like this from us. Admittedly, we're at fault too for not being able to see the signs, but..." Temari pulled him close, hugging him as tightly as she dared, "If anything were to happen to you, I don't know what we'd do."

"I just... I didn't want to disappoint you." Shikadai finished softly. Now, he wouldn't even meet his mother's eyes.

Temari gently took hold of his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I won't have any of that now, little fawn. We could never be disappointed in you. You might frustrate us to no end, and we might get angry every now and then - but at the end of the day, you're still our son and we love you."

Shikadai smiled softly, "I love you too, mom."

But the time for talking was over. Carefully, Temari helped her son to adjust himself on the bed, pulling the blankets over his small body and tucking him in. She pulled the hairband from his ebony locks and brushed them back from his face, before gently kissing his forehead. Normally, Shikadai would've complained about being treated like a little kid. But he'd been on such an emotional rollercoaster in the last couple of hours, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Rest now." Temari ordered softly. "I'll call you when dinner is ready."

And Shikadai did just that.

Shikamaru shuffled past his wife, attempting to make it past her before she became aware of his presence. Temari started scrubbing an ornate white bowl, shouting over her shoulder, "Don't think that you can sneak by and avoid talking to me, Shikamaru. We will discuss what happened."

"Tch, troublesome woman." But he stopped, favoring her with a tired, dispassionate look. "What is there to talk about?"

Temari frowned, abandoning the dishes to favor her husband with her undivided attention. "I had the most fascinating conversation with Shikadai this afternoon. He said that the two of you had had a fight - let's start there."

"We had a... verbal altercation, sure. For a 'fight', it was rather one-sided. I told him that I wouldn't tolerate him talking to me that way, he told me he hated me and stormed off to his room." Shikamaru said, attempting to keep his tone indifferent.

Temari raised an eyebrow, "So you decided to go out on the back porch and sulk for three hours? How many packs of cigarettes did you go through? One? Two?"

"I did not sulk." He rebutted her sharply. "And I only went through half a pack."

If looks could kill, Shikamaru would be gone. She was calling his bull and he couldn't blame her, he didn't even believe himself. He'd actually been attempting to sneak by her so that he could go and get himself another pack, but that idea had been shot to hell the minute she insisted on having this lovely conversation. Three hours of not-sulking on the back porch had not mentally prepared him for reliving the events of that afternoon.

Temari sighed, "Do you know why he said those things?"

"Because he thinks that I'm a shitty excuse for a father?" His attempt at humor fell painfully flat, especially considering that he was only half-joking. Temari watched him for a moment, eerily silent, before she seemed to make up her mind.

She told him everything that Shikadai had told her - how the other kids from the Academy had attacked him after training because they were upset about the final decision in Shikadai and Bolt's match at the Chunin exams. How they had beaten him within an inch of his life, but he was more worried about his parents being disappointed in him than the actual wounds. Shikamaru's expression gradually shifted from hurt to anger as he continued to listen to what his wife had to say.

"He could have died, and all he was worried about was that we would be disappointed in him?" And then, his anger turned inward. "How could I have not seen how hurt he was? What if his wounds had been more serious and -,"

Temari cut him off. "But he didn't die. And his wounds aren't more serious." She said firmly. "Now isn't the time to be dwelling in what-ifs."

"No wonder he thinks I'm such a shitty excuse for a father. What kind of father doesn't even notice that their son is mortally wounded?"

"The kind that taught their son that no matter what happens, he can come to him and talk and trust that he will be there to help him. You trusted Shikadai that he would come to you if anything was wrong. This time, he didn't." Temari said. "That doesn't make you a bad father, and that doesn't make him a bad son."

Shikamaru took a second to allow her words to sink in, before asking, "So what does it make us?"

"Human." Temari answered gently. "You're both human and apt to make mistakes. You planned for all possible scenarios except for the one where Shikadai loves and respects you so much, he's afraid to disappoint you by being weak sometimes."

His wife had a valid point. She wasn't saying that they weren't at fault for what had happened, but rather that the blame was universal. While they'd always had a laid-back approach to parenting, perhaps it was time to step up and become more hands-on, to give their son that security blanket for a little while. It was all well and good to tell him that he could come to them with anything and everything, maybe they needed to show him as well.

And then, Shikamaru's face darkened as he thought of all the horrible things he'd like to do to the ones who'd thought it would be a good idea to put their hands on his son. He'd ensure that each of them paid dearly for their actions... but it wasn't his punishment to dole out. As much as he wanted to be the one to personally teach them a lesson, he had a feeling that someone else would enjoy it even more - and Shikamaru would still get to reap the benefits.

"I have to make a phone call..."

Contrary to what he had told Temari, Shikadai did not come down for dinner. Temari wasn't too terribly upset about it, understanding that the boy needed his rest in order to recover from his injuries. Still, she put aside some leftovers just in case he got hungry in the middle of the night.

Shikamaru stood outside his son's room, hand poised to knock on the door. He knocked softly, not wanting to wake the boy if he was sleeping, and received no answer. When he tried the doorknob, he found it to be unlocked and let himself inside. Shikadai was not asleep, but rather, sitting up in bed and picking at the fraying gauze that had been secured around his arm. Shikamaru frowned.

"You shouldn't pick at that." Much to his credit, Shikadai didn't startle. He cast a side-long glance at his father, before dropping his arms to his sides obediently. "I heard what happened, Shikadai. Why didn't you tell me? We could have handled it together."

Shikadai frowned, "I shouldn't have had to tell you! If you weren't away from home so much, you would have noticed it on your own!"

There was a pause, then, "I wish that I could be home more, Shikadai. You know that." And this wasn't the first time his job had caused issues in their relationship, either. "I hate that I can't be with you all of the time. I know that I've failed you, son. And I'm sorry."

At that, Shikadai practically deflated. "I know that I should have told you, I just..." he swallowed hard, the tears in his eyes threatening to pour over. "I... I didn't want you to think less of me because I couldn't defend myself. I'm a Chunin now... I shouldn't have to run to my Dad for protection all the time."

Shikamaru placed a hand on his son's shoulder, "You know, little fawn, one of the greatest signs of strength is being able to admit your weaknesses."

Shikamaru took a seat at the edge of his son's bed and Shikadai practically fell into his arms, burying his tear-stained face in his father's chest and squeezing him tight with his non-injured arm. He could feel the sobs that racked his son's tiny body, but didn't comment on them. Tears, after all, were not always a sign of weakness. Sometimes, they simply meant that you were trying to be strong for too long.

"I'm sorry that I said those things to you. You're not a shitty Dad." Shikadai stuttered brokenly. Shikamaru rubbed soothing circles onto the boy's back, attempting to quiet him.

"I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you were all alone, little fawn." Shikamaru said, before kissing the crown of his son's head.

When Shikadai finally managed to calm himself down and get a lid on his emotions, he whispered, "I don't want a different Dad. I'm kinda glad that I got stuck with you, old man." And then, so softly that Shikamaru almost couldn't hear him, "I love you."

"I love you too, little fawn." He assured, before tucking him back into bed. When he moved away, his son keened. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, "Really? Don't you think that you're getting a little old for this?"

"No." Shikadai answered immediately, before patting the bed beside him with his good arm. "Please?"

Shikamaru sighed, "Just for a little while, alright?" He shifted so that he was laying down at his son's side, "Damn, if you get any bigger, we're gonna need a bigger bed for this." Shikadai giggled, before resting his head on his father's chest and closing his eyes. "Goodnight, son."

Needless to say, Aburame-Sensei took an almost fiendish delight in dishing out a disturbing punishment that those boys would not soon forget.