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It goes like this: Namikaze Minato does not use a seal capable of taking his life. Splitting the Kyuubi into halves, he saves his wife by resealing Yin Kyuubi into her and makes his son the host of Yang Kyuubi. Konoha is left with two jinchuuriki, their Yondaime Hokage, and a completely new future.
Naruto and Shikamaru first meet when they are merely infants. Neither can speak, neither really knows what’s going on at all. Unable to crawl just yet, they are placed side by side in a crib while their fathers discuss something relevant to Konoha, and their mothers go on a girl’s trip with other mothers.
Obviously, they aren’t aware of this.
Naruto is only aware of the fact that he’s in a new place, and there’s another form beside him. The other baby is warm and swaddled in shades of dark green and tan. There are a few dark locks of hair poking from the baby’s skull, and he blinks at Naruto with pretty amber eyes.
They stare at each other for a bit, Naruto’s fist in his mouth and Shikamaru’s eyelids drooping with every second that passes. Naruto isn’t tired yet, so he tries his hand at babbling away to the other baby. He kicks his little feet, grabs hold of them and stuffs his socked toes in his mouth. He flails his arms, smacks the other baby’s chubby limbs. Naruto is a noisy baby even when not crying.
Shikamaru uses him as background noise to fall right to sleep.
Naruto spends a lot of his time playing with Sasuke. The two of them have enough energy to run around for hours, driving their parents crazy. Still, in the moments where he wants to scribble away in a coloring book or do puzzles, it’s Shikamaru he turns to.
Shikamaru likes napping more than he likes talking, likes doing things that stimulate his mind without stimulating him.
Whenever his mother is busy, he’s forced to trail after his father. All the way to the Hokage’s office they go, and his father doesn’t carry him around anymore. He’s four years old and Shikaku is a little vindictive. They’re too alike, really.
Sometimes Naruto will be there, his mother off on a mission or needing a break from the blonde terror. He’ll be messing with the ANBU in his father’s office, doing puzzle books or braiding his distracted father’s hair. Shikamaru doesn’t tell his father, but he likes it when Naruto is there. The blonde always lights up like the sun, glowing with enough force to make Shikamaru squint. Then there are hands in his and a high voice in his ears. Naruto is warm and unafraid to press close, he’s the perfect person to curl against when you want to nap.
Whenever they enter the room, it’s Naruto that Shikamaru seeks out first.
When they enter the Academy, Naruto clings to his father like a leech. There is easy affection between them, two golden figures who draw all eyes. When the sun burns above their heads and glints off their hair, they look ethereal. For the first time, Shikamaru understands why people call others beautiful.
Naruto waddles over when he’s put down, cheeks chubby and eyes bluer than the sky. The bluest blue Shikamaru has ever seen. Naruto isn’t shy or particularly quiet; he has a tendency to be a troublemaker and a habit of speaking before thinking. But he thrives on touch and never fears anything at all. He holds Shikamaru’s hand through the entire ceremony.
His palm is a little sweaty. He leans his head on Shikamaru’s shoulder and falls asleep. Shikamaru throws a rock at the first person to try and approach them.
Sasuke and Naruto are inseparable most days. There’s some connection between them that Shikamaru can’t possibly fathom. He’s not bothered by it, really. It took a few days of intense staring and putting the fear of God into Uchiha Sasuke’s little seven year old body, but Shikamaru finally came to the conclusion that their connection was entirely platonic. Whatever special spark existed between Naruto and Sasuke, Shikamaru couldn’t be jealous of it. He didn’t want it, after all.
He didn’t want to just be Naruto’s friend.
When they’re ten, a battle wages in the streets of Konoha. Almost a decade to the day of the Kyuubi attack. Shikamaru doesn’t know much, just that his father is fighting. Sasuke and Naruto are shuffled into their home, because their parents are at war as well. It’s just them and Shikamaru’s mother, who makes them snacks and distracts the other two boys with the casual ease of a Nara.
Shikamaru knows it’s something big. Maybe something terrible. Something that’s been making his father look more and more exhausted over the past few weeks….and something that has to do with Sasuke’s family.
Naruto shares some of his food and their pinkies brush under the table. Shikamaru thinks that as long as the blonde is smiling, it’ll be okay. He’ll make it so.
When his father comes home later, Shikamaru is the only one awake. Naruto is slumped across his chest, and Sasuke is curled in a ball with his back to the blonde. He meets Shikaku’s haggard expression, one hand splayed on Naruto’s shoulder.
Shikaku smiles, and Shikamaru knows that the world will continue to spin.
Naruto is twelve years old and in the habit of wearing far too much orange. For some odd reason, he manages to make it work against the warm brown tones of his skin and the white-gold of his hair. He glitters, from his white teeth to his eyes to the clear coating of anti-chip polish on his toenails.
They do not get on the same team, but that was expected. Shikamaru’s family has continually paired with an Akimichi and Yamanaka for generations. He’s not disappointed so much as he thinks the whole thing is troublesome; because Naruto needs an eye on him at all times and that’s been Shikamaru’s job for so long, he doesn’t know how to stop.
But every time they see each other, Naruto greets him with a heart-stopping grin and two arms. He wraps Shikamaru up in a hug so tight and violent he thinks the blonde might be trying to squeeze his heart right out of his throat.
How silly, he just needs to ask. Shikamaru would pull it out between his own ribs.
There’s a saying in Konoha: A motivated Nara will be the last thing you ever see.
It’s whispered and joked about, treated like an urban legend. But you see, no one ever actually tries to poke the bear. Innate fear, maybe.
Shikamaru is lazy. He likes laying under the sun to nap or cloudwatch. Sometimes he plays shogi when a willing player comes along. When he becomes interested in something he hyper-fixates on it and wants to know every little detail. He once spent an entire hour counting the freckles on Naruto’s cheeks while the blonde slept. Naruto is the only person able to cling to him for longer than a few minutes.
Shikaku likes to think this was inevitable. Or at least his fault. He’d placed his son in that crib, all those years ago. A Nara flourished best with a personal sun beside them, with a person capable of exuding the energy they could not. Shikamaru and Naruto were each other’s constants in times of quiet. They were the peace the other sought.
Minato faints into his wife’s arms the first time he sees his sixteen year old son kiss Shikamaru on their doorstep.
(Kushina thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.)