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Severed Fates: Hyuga SI Ch.23
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 15:42:48 +0000 UTCChapter 23
SHIKAMARU NARA
Until this day, Shikamaru had spent his time sauntering through life. Doing the bare minimum, as he tried to live life to the fullest. He was smart. He knew that, and so did everyone else around him, and so they hardly bothered him when they saw him lazing around.
But for the first time in his life, Shikamaru could hardly find it in himself to sit down. Because of the circumstances of their last mission, their team had been given a week off, and no one was willing to rush them out of this rest.
Before, he would have simply stayed in bed or stared at the clouds. Yet, for some reason, he found himself reaching out to their sensei, asking for training.
The bearded man came as per his request, yet as he sat there staring at the board of shogi in front of him, he complained quickly, for this was not the kind of training he was expecting.
“Why?” he asked, as he pushed his pawn further up, and the Sarutobi man raised a brow.
“Why what?” the jounin asked, as Shikamaru questioned.
“Why did they kill her?” and that was the question that continued to bother him. Rationally, it did not make sense at all.
They had her as a captive. Trading her for the ship builder was the smarter choice, and yet despite that choice, those men chose to kill her. And for what?
Sport? Entertainment?
Did they not understand the consequences of what they were doing? That despite her rank, she was a kunoichi of Konohagakure? That no matter what, Konoha would exact its revenge if they harmed her, and yet still they killed her?
“I could give you a dozen answers and all of them can be true, and none of them can be true,” the man whispered as Shikamaru frowned, as he made his own move, offering up a bishop for a knight.
He took the exchange, as the man moved up his queen, offering another trade, for his rook and pawn, which favored him numerically.
“So let me ask you a question of your own?” and at that he looked up, as the Sarutobi jounin took out his cigarette.
“Why did you stop, Kiba and Choji?” and he frowned, as he remembered his actions from that day.
“Because they were injured,” he had said, hadn’t he? But the jounin simply looked him in the eye.
“Not so much that they could not take on some rogue bandits,” and perhaps he was right.
“I did not wish to take a risk,” he argued, and the man shook his head.
“No,” he denied his words again, and Shikamaru could not help but think back to that moment and what he had done.
“You did that because you made a decision to end their lives, and then in an instant, you chose the best option available to you,” and he lowered his gaze to the board again, and took the stage.
“You knew of Hikari’s experience as an ANBU. Knew that Kiba and Choji had never taken another life. Knew that if given the command, Hikari would not hesitate for a second in slaughtering those men,” and had he thought as much. Was he capable of such cold measures, and a voice came from a pit of darkness that he had long chosen to ignore.
Yes. He was entirely capable of such things.
He was guilty of the things his sensei spoke of. Guilty of perpetuating and ensuring a slaughter that had seen the entire river turn scarlet as the blood of Gato’s men tainted the water.
“But not all men think like that,” and suddenly he saw his position crumbling, as he began a pawn break on the other side, and with his rook gone, he rushed to defend it with the Queen, yet with that one move, the coordination of his pieces all broke.
“We are emotional beings, and those emotions often make us do irrational things. Killing Sakura was a result of one such irrational thought,” and so there was no grand motive behind it. No grand plot.
The realization hit him hard.
“Is that the worth of our lives?” he asked angrily, as his position crumbled in front of his eyes.
“In this world, yes,” and the answer was sobering and raging as Shikamaru crushed his king’s piece in his fingers, as he lost the game and a friend.
He did not know much about Sakura. She was their classmate and was a bit of a menace. Her rivalry with Ino was interesting, and her crush on Sasuke was troubling. But she was kind, bright, and filled with so much potential.
She was a first-generation shinobi, yet despite that, she was at the top of their class.
And now she was gone, all because of one mistake. Would he suffer the same fate? Would Ino? Would Choji? Would all of them simply die like this?
No. He refused to accept it. Refused to accept that their lives were so meaningless that they could end upon the irrational whims of a man.
“No,” he declared as he looked him in the eye.
“I won’t accept that,” he argued, and he had noticed that he was almost heaving.
“Then become strong. Become so strong that you have the power to alter the very fate of your lives,” and in the end, that was what this world relied on. But he had limitations, for as smart as he was, Shikamaru was not blind to his own limitations as a shinobi.
He did not have the mettle to become a Hokage. He was too cold, and calculating for that. A Hokage needed to be inspirational. He needed to be a visionary, someone willing to defy the odds, while Shikamaru was the kind to count the odds.
But that did not mean that he would give up. He would simply have to make someone else wear the hat. Someone who could complement his chilling nature with immeasurable talent and defiance.
“I am going to change it all…”
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INO YAMANAKA
The funeral had ended hours ago, yet her feet refused to move as she found herself rooted to Sakura’s grave. Memories of their time together, of their fights, of their competitions and games all ran like a loop in her mind, as she found herself contemplating all of her actions.
She wondered if she could have done something different, could have done something more, so that her friend might still be with her today. But it was too late now. Too damn late.
The rain continued to come down, and yet her clothes were still dry, for she was not the only one who still stood there in front of the grave. A boy stood beside her, staring at the same grave as her, with a sorrowful gaze.
“Why?” she finally gathered the courage to ask, as she glanced at Hikari, who stood there holding an umbrella over them.
“Why do you stand here? You didn’t even know her,” she asked, her voice raspy and broken from the crying.
“I know that she was your friend,” he answered, not minding her scathing words.
“I know that she was a dear comrade and a kind, gentle soul. Is that not enough?” and what was she to say to that?
“What friend?” she scoffed, recalling their last meeting and how they had continued to argue over that Uchiha boy. In truth, Ino did not even like him, but hated the fact that Sakura was so interested in someone else except her.
“The last time we met, I told her that I never wanted to see her face again, and all because of that stupid bastard,” and Hikari did not say anything, nor did he rebuke her for being a bad friend.
“That just means that you cared too much for her,” and the words chilled her to the core, for he saw through her.
“How?” she asked with a gasp, and there was a hint of a smile on his face as he answered with a single line,
“You know what I am. What I was,” he asked, and it was hard to remember that behind that kind and gentle face was a stone-cold killer of the ANBU. She had even gotten a chance to see that killer once now, when she had watched him tear into Gato’s men with no care.
Everyone knew that ANBU recruited a special kind of people, and the reason for their choice had never been more obvious to her than in the moment when she had watched him standing there covered from head to toe in the blood of Gato’s men with not a single expression on his face.
He had not even known much about Sakura, beyond perhaps her associating with her or a simple file. Yet he had killed those men with no care, all because he had been ordered to.
In that desperate moment, he had looked so alone, and she began to remember all that she could about him and realized that in many ways his life was as much a tragedy as any.
His parents had both died when he was young, and at three, he had lost his greatest gift of doujutsu. The Hyuga’s archaic system had then robbed him of any future or freedom, and now, as he stood here offering her a shoulder to lean on, he himself stood all alone against the machinations of his old clan.
“Why didn’t you join the academy?” she asked, as she rubbed her eyes, and he frowned.
“What brought this on?” he asked, still standing there with his umbrella.
“Just answer me,” she added, promising to herself that she would not repeat the mistakes she had made with Sakura.
“Because I couldn’t,” he answered without any anger or frustration as if it was entirely normal, while it was anything but that.
“Because of your clan,” he said, turning away from her and nodding, which confirmed her suspicions.
“I had to be a ninja, that much I knew. So, I took whatever option was left for me,” he added, and no young shinobi would ever choose the life of an ANBU for himself.
Not as long as they were sane and not suicidal.
“Was it hard?” and from their very first day, she had judged him without knowing anything about him. She knew that he was an ANBU and that he was a very powerful shinobi. But never once had he wondered about the price he had paid for that strength.
She had now caught a glimpse of that price and felt herself guilty for being too harsh on him.
“It made me what I am,” his answer was cryptic enough, but who was she kidding? Of course, it must have been hard, for what eleven-year-old would ever wish to be a part of the ANBU?
“Don’t feel bad for me, Yamanaka,” he chuckled, and she had missed how her feet had begun to move and how they were halfway to her house, as he gently led her down the streets.
“I needed power, and that always comes with a cost,” and if only Ino had been insightful enough to know that. If all of them had paid that price as well, then perhaps Sakura might have been alive today.
If they had been a bit faster and stronger, her friend would still be alive. She might have been more useful to him in that fight against that masked ninja?
She had been nothing but a burden, leaving him to avenge her friend while she could do nothing but watch as he continued to save her from that masked monster.
“We are here,” he said, as they stood outside their flower shop, and Ino glanced up at him as he handed her the umbrella.
“Take care, Yamanaka,” and with that, he pushed the umbrella into her hands and was about to walk away when she reached for it without a second thought, stopping him.
“I want to be strong,” she declared, as she looked into those pale orbs.
“You are strong,” he replied, and that was a lie.
“No. I want to be as strong as you, stronger even,” she told him, as he nodded.
“You can be. You are a Yamanaka after all,” and indeed she was. Her father was a strong enough shinobi, and she could probably ask him to teach her more of their clan’s kinjutsus, but she wanted to be more than just a Yamanaka.
She wanted to have the same strength as him. The speed. The power. The ability to protect. The ability to kill.
She wanted that for herself, and her clan’s kinjutsus could not offer her that.
“Train me,” she asked, and given what she had seen, Hikari was equal to at least a Tokubetsu jounin, if not a proper jounin, which meant that he had only shown her and Shikamaru a fraction of his true powers.
“Sensei will be happy to help you…”
“No,” she shook her head again.
“I wish to learn the ways of an ANBU,” and only he could teach her that.
“I want to learn from you,” and he was silent for a second before he answered.
“I don’t think that I am skilled enough to teach….”
“You are,” she assured him, her mind already made.
“Sure then, I will see you tomorrow, Yamanaka…”
“Ino,” she corrected, and let go of his sleeve.
“And thanks for staying with me,” she offered him a gentle smile.
“…and for protecting me from that masked nin,” for if not for him, she would not be standing here today. He had been nothing but kind to her, while Ino had treated him rather horribly ever since they had first met.
“You don’t have to thank me for any of this. Never ever….”
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