Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shikamaru can count the number of times his life has been on the line. Once.  

Right now, to be exact. 

The barrel of a gun is not the nicest thing to stare down; it’s dark and consuming, like an endless void. His eyes are inevitably drawn to it, tunnel vision at its finest. Like every teenager, Shikamaru doesn’t dwell on the thought of death in his casual life. You don’t expect to ever be the victim of crime because it always happens to other people — turns out that kind of thought process is bullshit. Life picks and chooses at random, and no one is safe. 

Shikamaru is sixteen and this is his first job. Being a clerk at a gas station slash convenience store is perhaps the worst thing in the world, but he gets money and that’s really the end goal. Suffering through customer service is just barely worth it if it means he can rely a little less on his parents. (Though….the uniform could do with some improvements.)

He still has two years of high school to finish, a crush on a girl and a crush on a guy — which he’s still coming to terms with — and his entire life ahead of him. A whole life of lazing around staring at clouds or something. He’ll figure it out.

Or he’s supposed to; that might not be the case anymore if he gets shot in the middle of a robbery halfway through his shift. 

This is one of those cases that he saw coming the moment the guy approached the counter but couldn’t exactly do anything about. What do you even do about a gun anyway? Shikamaru is still mid growth spurt and doesn’t consider exercise a necessary aspect of life. All he could do was swallow the sudden tension down when he noted the flinty look, the hand in the guy’s pocket, the obvious outline of a firearm, the high collar and low hat. There was a slight attempt at hiding his features, but the man is clearly inexperienced.

Which makes him more trigger happy than someone who knows how to rob a place.

Shikamaru stays very, very still — playing possum is his hobby, after all — with his hands raised up in the air and his eyes pointed away from the man’s face. In these scenarios, usually anyone who sees the robber’s face gets shot to make sure they keep silent. Shikamaru is a pretty decent liar, so he can probably wiggle his way out of this situation if the guy is inexperienced enough to only resort to threatening. In fact, Shikamaru is hoping that the inexperience means the criminal is less likely to want to pull the trigger. Doesn’t mean he won’t get shot, because the guy is clearly agitated and nervous. 

As Mr. Criminal is rifling through the cash register, the muzzle of the gun still a scant few inches from Shikamaru’s chest, Shikamaru sees a hint of movement in the mirror hanging from the ceiling in the opposite corner. He tries not to make it too obvious that he’s watching something, keeping his eyes half-lidded like he’s frightened — and he is, really, he’s about this close to shitting himself — while focusing more on the figure of a man sneaking through the aisles. 

It’s not the cops, because they would have come in with their lights blaring and sirens howling, no discretion in the slightest. He would have heard Uchiha Shisui’s voice blaring over a speaker in that annoyingly chipper tone of his. The bell attached to the door hadn’t rung either; lucky for Shikamaru, because the criminal would definitely have spooked at the sound and Shikamaru would be one lung short. He likes having two lungs, thanks.

So this must be a customer. 

One smart enough to hide when the criminal started threatening Shikamaru, probably in a blind spot of the store when this whole thing started. Mr. Criminal didn’t seem like the type to want an audience, so he clearly hadn’t noticed the gas station wasn’t as empty as assumed.

Shikamaru looks away from the approaching man, glancing back down at the gun. The man’s hand is wavering slightly with the continued effort of holding it in one place, and probably due to anxiety. Shikamaru is not sympathetic. 

While he doesn’t want to die, he can’t let himself get consumed by fear. He needs to think of a way to make it out here alive, which means putting more effort into survival than he ever really puts into anything.

He doesn’t know the customer’s plan here, or if there’s a plan to help at all. Another glance shows that the man — and it’s a man, with a shock of silver hair that reminds Shikamaru of his English teacher and age lines around his mouth and eyes — is nearing the front of the aisles. It’s a dangerous spot to be. Any moment now, the robber could look up and see him. 

He catches Shikamaru’s eyes and offers a smile that sits kindly on his aged face. With one hand, he points to the robber’s shaking, gun-toting hand, and with the other he mimes knocking it away. 

Shikamaru tries to keep the incredulous expression from his face. Why not just wait it out? It’s not like he gives a shit if this place is robbed or not, as long as he makes it out alive. There’s like...insurance for this kind of thing. Plus, if he makes a sudden movement, who’s to say that the gun won’t just immediately go off?

There’s no safe route planned. He thinks of a few different possibilities that involve different reactions from the criminal, but there’s a layer of risk to all of them. There always is when a gun is involved. People are terribly hard to read in the heat of the moment, because they tend to make split decisions and the results aren’t always the ones you want. 

The robber slams the register shut, stuffing wads of cash into his jacket pocket with one hand. The gun wavers again, bobbing around erratically as the guy moves. His attention on Shikamaru has dropped to 40%. 

60% odds still aren’t great.

But it’s better than 50%.

In a split second, Shikamaru calculates the exact movement with the least amount of potential risk to his person. He twists his entire body to the side, his raised arm smacking the gun away from his body and throwing the man’s arm back. 

What follows is a massive slam as the customer appears out of thin air, grabbing the surprised robber’s face and smashing it down against the register. With very obvious training, the silver-haired man dispatches the robber quickly in the ensuing scuffle. The gun flies out and clatters against the ground, and Shikamaru quickly kicks it far out of everyone's reach. He, for one, doesn’t trust himself with a gun, so picking it up is out of the question.

It’s not even needed, since the robber is basically unconscious within the span of a ten seconds. 

The silver-haired customer glances up at Shikamaru from his perch on the robber’s back. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah.” Shikamaru replies, mouth dry. His hands shake a little as the adrenaline begins to drop. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good. Why don’t you go ahead and call the cops. Tell them Hatake Sakumo is currently at the scene with the detained robber.”

Ah, Shikamaru recognizes that name. The Hatake part, anyway. It’s not farfetched to say that the man before him is his English teacher’s dad. Small world.  

As he goes to do just that, Shikamaru can only hope that this whole event will get him a paid vacation. He definitely deserves it. And maybe he’ll finally ask out one of his crushes. Or both. Who knows? He almost just died, he’s allowed to live a little.