~ Shikaku Nara's POV ~
The Nara woods were silent.
Too silent.
Not the quiet of dusk or the hush of contemplative thought. No—this was the silence of something missing. Something that belonged here.
Shikamaru.
Shikaku stood alone at the heart of the grove, the familiar clearing where father and son had played shogi on the old stone stump. The pieces were gone now. Just like him.
No ransom note. No reports. No body.
And that made Shikaku's blood run cold. He would rather know grief than walk in the fog of not knowing. Grief, at least, gave direction.
He inhaled through his nose, slow and steady. The smell of damp moss and pine clung to the air. It felt wrong now. Like it mocked him.
"Shikamaru," he whispered, the name carried away by a breeze that didn't answer.
~
The next morning, he stood before the Hokage.
"I'm leaving," Shikaku said. His voice was calm, but his shoulders were tight with strain. "I'm taking time from active duty to search for my son."
Hiruzen regarded him quietly, fingers steepled under his chin.
But the elders didn't let him answer.
"You're the Jounin commander," one of them snapped. "Your duty is to this village. Let the patrol teams handle the search."
"You would abandon your post?" Koharu added sharply. "You think your grief gives you the right to ignore protocol?"
Shikaku's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not asking for permission."
Before anyone could speak, he turned on his heel and left the tower.
Back at the compound, he called the clan together in the meeting hall, a room of low light and heavy scrolls. The elders lined the perimeter. His own mother stood at his left, her expression unreadable.
He held up a mission scroll, sealed in blood red.
"I'm commissioning an S-rank mission," he said. "I will serve as the client. The mission: escort and aid me as I search across the nations for my son."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"You're talking about a million Ryo in costs," Elder Matsu hissed. "With the clan debt, how can we—?"
"I'm not asking," Shikaku snapped, slamming his hand onto the table so hard the wood cracked. "This is my son. The heir to this clan. I will find him."
The room fell quiet.
Then, his mother spoke.
"Money is nothing if we fail to protect our blood," she said coolly. "We all know what Kumo planned for the Hyuuga heiress. We will not let them take our future again."
Shikaku bowed his head. "Thank you, Mother."
A voice piped up near the back. "Then I'll go with you."
Shikaku turned. Ensui stepped forward, arms crossed, determination in his sharp eyes.
"You shouldn't go alone."
A breath shuddered out of Shikaku. "Thank you, cousin."
The next morning, the scroll was delivered to the Hokage personally.
Hiruzen read it with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Getting around the elders by hiring Konoha's finest through a private commission? Clever."
"I'd say don't tell them," Shikaku replied, "but I don't care if they know."
The Hokage approved the three-month mission with a simple, "Go bring your son home."
~
Back home, the sun was just setting when Shikaku entered Shikamaru's room.
The scent hit him first—something faint and warm, sandalwood and ink. The boy's shogi board was still out, mid-game. Shikamaru had been white. He'd been waiting for his father to make his move.
But duty had called, as it always did.
Shikaku's throat tightened. He reached out, fingers trembling slightly as he picked up a white piece.
"Should've made the move that night," he muttered. "Should've stayed home."
"You think I don't agree with that?"
The voice was sharp and bitter.
Yoshino stood in the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her tone was venomous.
"This never would've happened if you were here."
Shikaku turned, already exhausted.
"Where were you, then?" he snapped back. "He left the compound without anyone noticing."
"I'm not his jailer!" she shouted. "Unlike you, I have a life outside this dreary clan!"
"Then maybe you should've lived that life far away from us."
Her eyes blazed. "Don't turn this around. You're the incompetent fool. My father should have demanded more for me, putting up with your useless self all these years."
Shikaku laughed bitterly. "Your father manipulated mine into this marriage, used my father's illness to get the contract signed. You think I wanted this?"
"You think I did?!" she screeched. "Marrying into the Nara clan was supposed to raise my status! Instead, I get a cold, distant freak with no ambitions and unnatural urges! A clan that shows no respect to me! A son who's just as lazy as his father!"
Shikaku stilled.
His voice, when it came, was ice.
"You want your dowry back? Take it. You want your freedom? You're welcome to it. I don't care what you think of me. The only good thing that came out of this cursed arrangement was Shikamaru. And you don't even care that he's missing."
She laughed cruelly. "And you'll never find him. He left you too."
He walked past her.
As he reached the doorway, he turned.
"My mother will be running the clan in my absence. I suggest staying out of her way."
He slammed the door behind him.
He didn't see the vicious and victorious smirk that painted Yoshino's face.
~
Later that night, as the fireflies flickered through the darkened groves, Shikaku sat on the porch, staring out into the woods.
Ensui joined him quietly. "Kakashi and Shibi accepted."
Shikaku nodded. "Good."
Ensui glanced sideways. "You okay?"
"No," Shikaku said, voice hollow. "But I will be when I bring him home."
He leaned his head back and whispered to the stars above.
"Just stay alive, Shikamaru. Wherever you are."
~
By the sixth day of searching, exhaustion had become a second skin.
The world had shrunk to tracks in the mud, chakra residue barely clinging to soil, and the whispers of dogs with noses keener than a shinobi's sixth sense.
They were nearing the southern fringes of Earth Country when Pakkun's low bark halted them.
"Found something."
The little pug's snout was buried in the undergrowth near a weather-worn tree. Shikaku stepped forward as Kakashi crouched beside his summon, brushing away tangled roots and fallen branches.
There—etched into the bark, rough and uneven—was a symbol that made Shikaku's breath catch in his throat.
The Nara clan crest.
A shallow arrow carved beneath it pointed due north.
The lines were jagged, hurried. Faint specks of blood darkened the grooves.
"His blood," Pakkun confirmed. "Barely a trace. He must've used his fingers to carve it."
Shikaku's hand trembled as it hovered over the marking. He pressed his palm to the tree, grounding himself.
"He's still alive." His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
The tears threatened, clawing at his throat but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not until his son was safe in his arms.
Ensui, standing just behind, put a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, cousin. We've got your brat to find."
Shikaku let out a shaky breath and nodded.
Shibi stepped forward, silent as always. He extended a hand, letting a swirl of kikaichu crawl toward the bloodstained bark. The beetles lingered for a moment before scattering outward in quiet pulses.
"They've sampled his chakra," Shibi said. "If we pass within half a mile of his trail again, they'll respond."
Kakashi lifted his hitai-ate slightly to reveal his Sharingan, glancing to the northern path. "The scent's not fresh. Couple of days old. Still… it's heading toward the coast. Maybe the ports."
"Aisu Bay," Shikaku murmured. "It's a smaller trade line for low-traffic vessels… perfect for someone trying to disappear."
With a renewed sense of purpose, they moved.
It took three more days of hard travel, crossing harsh terrain and evading patrols. Twice they doubled back when chakra signatures led to burned-out camps. Once, they found a clearing littered with corpses—three civilians, likely travellers, and a missing-nin with a scorched arm.
But there were no children among the dead.
Not Shikamaru, so Shikaku pressed on.
Eventually, the scent trail and beetles led them to a forest near Aisu Bay.
Another tree. Another crude carving of the Nara symbol.
"He's guiding us," Shikaku whispered. "He knows we're coming."
Kakashi glanced toward the bustling port in the distance. "If he got onto a boat here, he could be anywhere."
Shikaku scowled. "Then we start asking."
~
The town was cagier than expected.
People slammed doors in their faces the moment they caught sight of flak vests or headbands. Others lied outright or pretended not to hear them. Fear clung to every alleyway. Earth Country was no friend to Hidden Leaf shinobi.
Even the always collected Shibi seemed on edge.
Eventually, they found a sailor just outside the dockyard, grizzled and weather-worn, leaning against a stack of crates.
When Shikaku held up a worn photograph of Shikamaru, the man's eyes narrowed.
"I saw him," he said, voice low. "Three men. Looked like ninja. Kid was sleeping on one of their shoulders."
Shikaku's blood ran cold. "And then?"
"They rented a boat. Small, single-sail craft. Left before the storm hit."
"And?"
The man glanced nervously out toward the sea. "Three bodies were fished out of the water the next day. Encased in ice. It was unnatural—like the water froze around them before they sank. They popped up like dead fish out of nowhere, scared a few fishermen stupid."
"Show us," Kakashi said.
The corpses had been pulled onto a sheltered pier and covered with thick tarps.
When the sailor unveiled them, Shikaku's breath hitched.
The three men were frozen solid, their faces twisted in terror. One bore the insignia of Kirigakure. The other two had Iwagakure headbands scratched through.
"All missing-nin," Kakashi confirmed, eyes narrowed.
Shikaku stepped closer, examining the ice. It was seamless, unnatural—too perfect not to be chakra-moulded by a human. Was there another missing-nin with them?
"Someone fought them," he said. "He could have escaped."
"No sign of the boy's chakra," Shibi murmured. "But that doesn't mean he wasn't here."
"Storm rolled in that night," the sailor added. "Sea was wild. But the bodies were found under the waves, frozen through. Then they just popped up like a carnival game out of nowhere."
Shikaku grit his teeth. "He's not here. He got away." Trying to keep that mantra in his head, the other option was unacceptable.
Ensui spoke up. "If those bastards were trying to take him… someone could have protected him. Or he protected himself, as unlikely as that is."
Kakashi's gaze lingered on the edge of the dock. "The direction they sailed?"
"Northeast," the sailor said. "Past the reefs. Most don't go that way."
"Will you sail it?" Shikaku asked. "We'll pay double."
The sailor hesitated. "None of the others will deal with ninja anymore. But… I owe the kid something, I think. A gut feeling." He rubbed his chin. "You protect me and my boat, and I'll get you as far as I can."
Shikaku nodded once, firmly.
"Then we sail at first light."
~
The boat creaked underfoot as they pulled away from Aisu port, the grey waters of the sea stretching ahead like the edge of the world.
Shikaku stood near the prow, his arms crossed, wind tugging at his cloak, his mind a storm of thoughts far colder than the sea breeze. He hadn't spoken much since the sailor agreed to take them out at dawn. There was nothing left to say. Not really.
Each minute spent idle made his stomach twist tighter. Each wave felt like it was pushing him further from Shikamaru, not closer.
Kakashi stood beside him, one hand resting on Pakkun's small head while the other lazily flipped through a book that Shikaku suspected he wasn't actually reading.
Shibi was still and silent at the stern, his insects drifting lazily in the air. Every now and then, one would buzz near the railing before veering off as if intoxicated.
Strange.
Ensui, always moving, checked over their supplies. Rations, chakra reserves, weapons—they were as prepared as they could be for what lay ahead. But Shikaku still felt the creeping dread of what they might find.
It didn't take long.
By midday, Pakkun gave a sudden bark, standing at the bow with his nose in the wind. "Something's up ahead. Cold. Strange. You'll want to see this."
Shikaku narrowed his eyes. The sailor adjusted the sail, veering slightly to port.
A ship. Wooden, modest, but unmistakably weathered from recent days at sea.
But more alarming than the derelict craft was the massive sheet of ice that jutted from the sea itself, anchoring the ship to the water like nature had tried to claim it mid-escape.
Splintered wood showed where the tide had battered the hull. Frost covered the mast, sails tattered like forgotten flags.
"What the hell..." Ensui muttered, brows furrowing.
"Did someone from Snow Country intervene?" he added.
"No," Shibi said flatly. "No other chakra signatures. Only four residues. Three... aggressive. Foul. The other is faint. Exhausted. Young. That one's his."
Shikaku exhaled sharply, his pulse roaring in his ears. "He was here."
"Recently," Pakkun added. "Smells like blood, an underlayer of wolf and something tingly, something I can't identify. Summon, maybe. Snake? Lizard?" He sniffed again. "No… bigger. A lot bigger."
Shikaku and the others leapt from the boat, feet hitting the ice with practiced grace. The platform was wide, unnatural in shape.
The air around it shimmered with residual energy, not chakra exactly, but something kin to it. And it made Shikaku's skin prickle.
Shibi winced. "My kikaichu… they're drunk. Whatever energy was used here, it wasn't chakra. It doesn't conform."
Shikaku crouched, studying the surface. Then he saw them.
Two massive indentations melted just barely into the ice, impossibly large, talon-like.
"Kakashi."
The silver-haired Jounin crouched beside him, Sharingan whirring to life. "Claws," he confirmed. "Heavy. Deep set. Four toes."
"Front limbs?"
"I see two more smaller impressions. Lighter. Wider. Could be wings. This thing was massive."
"Not Orochimaru then," Shikaku murmured in relief.
"Snakes don't fly," Ensui added.
Shikaku took a deep breath and turned toward the cabin on the ship, his boots crunching against frost-covered boards. Pakkun dashed ahead, tail straight, nose low.
"The smell's stronger here," he barked.
Shikaku's heart thudded as he stepped to the door, pushing it open.
The small room was overturned, its contents scattered by weather or struggle. Mouldy rations, broken kunai, an empty water jug—but something more valuable caught his eye.
A map. Unfolded and worn.
"Ensui!" he barked.
His cousin ducked inside. "What is it?"
"Their route."
They bent over the parchment. A line of ink stretched from Fire Country's outer edges, through Earth's western coast, stopping briefly at the Land of Iron's eastern ports.
Another arrow led eastwards again to Gaikotsu Bay.
"They were heading to Kumo," Shikaku growled. "That was their endgame."
"Looks like they planned to stock up in Iron first," Ensui added grimly.
Shikaku searched again. No mission scroll. No identifying name. Whoever hired them covered their tracks. Still...
"How'd they get him out of the clan compound?" he muttered. "You'd need insider help."
"Maybe he was taken from the village districts first," Ensui offered. "Remember, the scent trail ended in Nara Forest."
Pakkun whined then and nudged something toward Shikaku's feet.
A piece of cloth, damp and torn.
Shikaku knelt, hands shaking as he picked it up.
One of Shikamaru's shirts. His favourite with the Nara clan symbol on the front. The one with the little ink stains near the sleeve from the time he tried to practice calligraphy.
His hand clenched around it and he didn't speak. Couldn't.
Ensui didn't push. He only placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "There's no blood on it," he said gently. "No sign of death. They were interrupted. Something—someone—took Shikamaru from them."
Shikaku nodded, swallowing hard.
"He was rescued maybe."
Kakashi stepped onto the deck, eyes narrowing. "There was a fight here. Scorch marks. Some of the railing's shattered. One of the Iwa-nin's weapons is still embedded in the mast."
"The fourth presence," Shibi said. "The unknown energy. It fought them."
"Maybe a partner? Wanted a bigger part of the profit?" Kakashi suggested. "Summoned something? Whatever it was, it wasn't subtle."
Shikaku shook his head, still holding the cloth. "Maybe. It would explain how they were caught off guard."
"So what now?" Ensui asked.
Shikaku straightened, resolve hardening.
"We follow their planned route. We head to Iron Country."
"Mifune may not like ninja," Kakashi said, "but he doesn't tolerate child trafficking. If we explain what we found…"
"He'll help," Shikaku said firmly. "His Code doesn't allow this kind of thing. Not in his lands."
Shibi nodded. "We can investigate the ports first. Someone must have seen a massive summon—no one forgets a summon this size."
"What could it be though? A bird?" Shikaku repeated, almost to himself. "Makes no sense with the scent of reptile."
They turned back toward their boat, the ice groaning beneath them. The sea wind had grown colder, but inside, Shikaku felt a spark of warmth.
They were close.
He could feel it in his bones.
"Hold on, Shikamaru," he whispered. "We're coming."
~
The sailor wasn't one for words. After guiding them back through the frigid waters toward the Land of Iron, he docked with a grunt and eyed Shikaku as he handed over a heavy pouch of Ryo.
"Thanks," Shikaku said sincerely, meeting the older man's eyes.
The sailor scratched his beard. "Hope you find your boy. No parent should go through what you're goin' through."
"Neither should any child," Shikaku replied. They exchanged a silent nod, and then the shinobi group was gone, boots crunching against the snow-packed streets of the port.
They fanned out, questioning merchants, dockhands, and locals with Shikamaru's photo in hand, but most offered only shrugs or suspicious glances. It seemed no one wanted to get involved—until a group of children came tearing down the street.
"It was huge!" one boy shouted. "Black as night! It flew right over us!"
"Its wings were like blankets in the sky!"
"We thought it was gonna eat our goats!"
The children tugged them eagerly toward a row of old shops, pointing to an elderly woman sitting outside on a woven mat. The moment the boy mentioned the word "dragon," her eyes lit with something distant and wistful.
"I saw it," she said dreamily. "Never thought I would in this life, but I saw it. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was one of the old dragons from the stories my mother used to tell me."
The team exchanged glances.
"A dragon..." Ensui murmured.
"The ice platform had claw marks and wing impressions," Kakashi added quietly. "We thought it impossible."
"It is impossible," Shikaku muttered. "If there were real dragons flying around, the entire continent would know."
The old woman chuckled. "It flew northeast, toward the capital. Graceful as a whisper."
That was all the confirmation they needed.
It took the rest of the day and most of the next to reach the edge of the Three Wolves—the towering peaks that stood sentinel over the capital of Iron. The cold bit into their lungs, the incline unforgiving.
Ensui nudged Shikaku with an elbow. "Out of shape, old man?"
Shikaku swatted him across the back of the head. "Watch it, brat. I'm not above tossing you off the ridge."
"Only if you could catch me."
Kakashi snorted. "Children, please."
They entered the capital that evening, and unsurprisingly, their arrival was not unnoticed. A squad of samurai met them before they even reached the gates, silent and imposing.
"State your purpose," one said.
Shikaku stepped forward. "We request audience with Mifune-sama. Urgent matter."
Within the hour, they stood in the grand chamber of the general himself.
Mifune, tall and calm as ever, studied them beneath his brow. "The Jounin Commander of Konoha himself. Your presence here does not go unnoticed. What brings such shinobi into my borders?"
Shikaku bowed. "We're following a trail. My son was taken by missing-nin fourteen days ago. We tracked him to Aisu Bay. There were signs of a massive summon—perhaps a dragon. Local reports say it flew toward your capital."
Mifune stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So the stories were true. There were whispers of a black-winged creature soaring over the Fire Capital."
Shikaku looked up sharply. "You heard of it?"
"Indeed. It lingered in the capital for eight days before vanishing into the night. Rumour has it, the summoner saved one of the Fire Daimyo's sons during a feast. As thanks, the Daimyo was going to offer his illegitimate daughter's hand."
"He refused?" Kakashi asked.
"Apparently so," Mifune said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Some say the prince helped him escape when the nobles plotted to seize his summon."
"Why haven't we heard any of this?" Ensui demanded.
Mifune smirked. "Perhaps our intelligence network is superior."
Shikaku grit his teeth. "The villagers we spoke to say the creature flew in this direction."
Mifune shook his head. "No such report has reached us. If it entered our borders, it may have vanished at the edge—unsummoned, perhaps."
"Is there any way we can ask around? Any signs of new faces, children, strange energy?"
Mifune considered him for a moment, then nodded. "You may investigate, but under my rules. You will be assigned escorts. You are not to draw weapons. You will not interrogate through force."
"Understood," Shikaku said, bowing. "Thank you."
~
The next few days passed in a haze of questions, dead ends, and faint hope.
Samurai guided them through the winding capital, stoic and alert. They asked innkeepers, merchants, performers, and guards. Many glanced at the photo of Shikamaru with hesitant eyes before shaking their heads.
The only useful tidbit came from one of the samurai themselves.
"There was a festival last week," he explained. "Many travellers. Loud music, masks, dancing. If they were here, unless someone met them directly, no one would notice."
It was a needle in a haystack. But it was something.
Shikaku stared at the photo of his son that night, seated on the floor of the rented room.
Shikamaru's tired little smirk. His bright eyes.
"We'll find you," Shikaku whispered. "Whatever it takes."
~
The needle moved like a blade of grass in the wind, precise and delicate. Shikaku barely noticed it, however, as his eyes were fixed on the old woman at the seamstress' counter. She squinted at the photograph in her hands, her gaze moving over the worn edges and the little boy in the centre.
"Hmm..."
Every ninja in the shop froze. Even Kakashi tensed.
"Yes! Yes, I remember this one!"
Shikaku surged forward, his voice trembling despite himself. "You saw him?"
The woman peered at him over her spectacles. "Course I did. Came in here the first day of the festival. Little boy just like this one in the picture, though he looked a bit sad. He perked up when his guardian started fussing over him, though."
"Guardian?" Ensui asked, eyes narrowing. "Who was he with?"
The woman chuckled, as though recalling a pleasant memory. "A beautiful young man—too pretty for his own good, really. Looked barely eighteen, but there was something old in his eyes. And a baby, too. Not a year old, I'd wager. Looked a lot like him."
Shikaku blinked. "He had a baby?"
"Mmhmm. Carried him everywhere. You should've seen the way he looked at those boys. Like they were his whole world. Kept speaking in this strange language to the baby and the boy, and the boy seemed to understand it, even if he didn't speak it himself. Very exotic accent too. Didn't speak our tongue well, but he understood everything we said."
Kakashi frowned. "Strange language, stilted speech... but fluent comprehension."
"Exactly," the old woman nodded. "They bought clothes here. The older boy was excited for the festival, said something about grilled meat skewers and the fish game. And oh, when I dressed the guardian… I nearly swooned. Emerald green robes, gold embroidery, brought out those gorgeous eyes of his."
Ensui coughed into his sleeve.
"And," she added dramatically, rustling through a nearby basket of papers, "I was curious. Wanted to know who he was—his bearing, his rings, they all screamed nobility. So I drew one of the symbols on his ring. Was going to ask my niece at the registry to look into it."
She handed them a paper with a carefully drawn triangle enclosing a circle, bisected by a line.
Shikaku's hand trembled as he took it. A lead. A real one.
"Thank you," he said, voice thick.
"Don't thank me yet. Heard he exchanged gold at the pawn shop just up the road. A pure gold bar, even. He must be some lord."
Kakashi and Shikaku exchanged glances. "Can you take us there?"
One of the samurai escorts cut in, arms folded. "That shop's been shut for now. You're better off speaking to Morita. He's the samurai who broke up the ambush that pawn shop owner orchestrated."
~
Morita was mid-lunch when they found him, a lacquered bento box half-opened in his lap, the scent of grilled mackerel thick in the air.
"Sorry to interrupt," Shikaku said, bowing. "We were told you might be able to help us."
Morita looked up, his dark brows arching. "Depends on the question."
Kakashi stepped forward. "This boy. Have you seen him?"
He handed the picture over.
Morita's expression changed immediately. He straightened. "Yes. I followed him and his guardian for a day when they were being trailed by some thugs. The pawn shop owner's men, no doubt. I was assigned to keep an eye on the area."
Shikaku could barely contain his urgency. "Can you describe them?"
"The man was young. Polite. Protective. Carried the baby like he was made of crystal. And the boy—the one in the picture—he stuck close to him. I remember thinking the boy looked frightened sometimes and always went to the man for comfort, but that man... he never let them out of arm's reach. I think he knew they were being followed."
"Did he give a name?"
Morita frowned. "He must have. I remember asking for papers when I intervened. But..."
He winced suddenly, hand going to his temple.
"I can't recall the name. It's strange. I know I saw it. I read it. But now it's just… blank."
Kakashi narrowed his eye, forming a seal. "Kai."
Nothing changed.
"No genjutsu," he muttered.
Shibi stepped forward. "A memory block, perhaps. Induced by something non-chakra based."
Morita looked uncomfortable. "All I remember is how much he cared for the boys. And he cloud-watched with the boy. They laughed. The boy fell asleep against him. I didn't think anything was wrong."
Shikaku gave a shaky laugh, hand covering his eyes briefly. "Cloud-watching," he whispered. "Still the same. My son's still the same."
Ensui squeezed his shoulder.
Morita looked apologetic. "I know the man also exchanged gold at the bank. They would've needed proper identification to clear that amount."
"Then someone in the bank might know," Shibi said.
Kakashi nodded. "We should follow this trail."
Shikaku tucked the paper with the symbol away. His fingers lingered over it, as though it was sacred.
His son was alive.
And someone was protecting him.
Later, under the shade of an inn roof, Shikaku took a moment to breathe. The warmth of the day could not push away the chill of worry clinging to his bones. But today… today, he had hope.
He reached into his pouch and drew out the drawing again. Triangle. Circle. Line.
"Who are you?" he muttered.
Kakashi looked over his shoulder. "It's not any clan I recognise. But that doesn't mean much. There are older secrets in this world than any of us know."
Shikaku nodded slowly. "Whoever this man is… he's earned my son's trust. And Shikamaru is anything but stupid, this man would have had to gain his trust."
Ensui smirked. "And that's no small feat."
They sat in silence for a long while, until the sun began to dip beyond the roofs. The journey wasn't over.
But Shikaku had a direction.
He had a name to search for. Tomorrow they would go to the bank and question the manager, get his son's saviour's name.
And when he found it?
He'd thank the man who protected his son.
Even if he had to cross every nation to do it.
~
The early morning air was crisp with the sharp chill of Iron Country's lingering frost as Shikaku and his team stood outside the merchant's bank. The building, squat and fortified in traditional Iron architecture, loomed over the cobbled square. A pair of samurai guards flanked the ornate door, eyeing the foreign ninja party with practiced caution. They gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, already informed of the team's presence and escorted them in.
The bank's interior was surprisingly luxurious; dark-polished wood, deep red silks, and the faint scent of ink and wax. The manager, a balding, short man named Gohara, greeted them with a nervous smile, bowing slightly deeper than usual upon seeing the Leaf insignia.
"You've come regarding the transaction," Gohara said, motioning them to a low table. "Please, sit. I'll tell you what I can."
Shikaku settled on the cushion, eyes sharp. "We were told a man came through here, exchanging gold."
"Yes, yes," Gohara said quickly, adjusting his spectacles. "Lord Harrison. Exchanged fifteen gold bars — incredibly pure, the highest we've ever seen."
At that, several of the Leaf shinobi choked.
"Nearly worth two hundred million ryo," Gohara added with a touch of reverence.
Ensui whistled low. "Two. Hundred. Million?"
Shikaku stared, mind already calculating what that kind of wealth could do. The debt accrued by the clan during the wars was nowhere near that, but the sum could pay off nearly a quarter of the village debt. Even the Nara, with their medicinal sales, had felt more of a strain since the nine-tails attack. That kind of gold wasn't just rare — it was suspicious.
"Did you ask where he got the gold?" Ensui asked.
"He said it was part of his family's fortune. Though... perhaps I misunderstood. His accent was extremely thick."
Part of… Shikaku thought a bit stunned.
"What clan is he from?" Shikaku pressed.
Gohara shook his head. "He never said. I... I simply assumed he was nobility from over the seas. His bearing, his rings — he had the sort of calm, collected power of someone important."
"Rings?" Kakashi asked, raising a brow.
"Oh yes," Gohara said, leaning forward slightly. "There were many, all stood out to me. A silver band with a strange triangular symbol etched onto an obsidian stone. One was a ring of emerald jade; I think it had a carved serpent. Another with a gem of sapphire, and the last I saw was a band of gold shaped like a dragon with rubies for eyes."
It was definitely the same man, the dragon head ring alone was enough of a clue.
Shikaku's expression darkened. "And his full name?"
"Harrison," Gohara repeated. "He only ever gave that name. I'm sure the paperwork has the rest, I can't quite remember what it was."
Shibi, quiet until then, spoke evenly. "May we see the paperwork?"
Gohara nodded. "Of course. I had it prepared."
He returned moments later with a scroll, unrolling it across the table. Shikaku bent to study it but his eyes narrowed. The signature line was blank. So was the origin box.
"You didn't fill this out?"
"I did!" Gohara said, genuinely baffled. "I never process transactions without full detail. This is a violation of protocol!"
Kakashi raised a hand and tried a basic genjutsu dispelling technique. Nothing.
"He did something to you," he muttered. "Like Morita."
Gohara paled. "I don't understand... I remember it all clearly."
"We believe he used some sort of memory-altering technique," Shikaku said, rolling up the scroll. "Or genjutsu beyond our detection."
"That will be... investigated," said one of the samurai escorting them, clearly disturbed.
Kakashi ran a hand through his hair. "If he used something to erase identification, he likely didn't want to be tracked. Which means he's on the move again."
"Has there been any snowfall?" Shibi asked, fingers twitching as some of his kikaichu crawled from beneath his sleeve.
The samurai nodded. "Yes. The mountain passes have seen snow for the past few nights. If the beast was spotted, we'd know by now."
Shikaku exhaled slowly. "They're likely on foot now."
He tapped his fingers against his hip, thinking.
"If this Harrison truly helped Shikamaru, perhaps Shikamaru told him who he was. Best case scenario he's trying to bring him home."
Kakashi shrugged. "Or... he already tried. We have to check."
Shibi adjusted his glasses. "Fire Country. It's the closest destination, and the trail is stale here."
"Right," Shikaku agreed. "We go through the southern pass and head toward the Fire Capital."
Shibi added quietly, "If he passed through the capital before, they might know something more."
Kakashi gave a sharp nod. "We should try to contact Asuma. He won't like it, but he knows the area better than anyone."
The decision made, they left Iron Country's borders the next morning. It took them just over three days to reach the capital's outskirts. The days were long and uneventful, with Pakkun and Shibi's insects struggling to detect even a trace of chakra along the route. Shibi admitted the kikaichu were still sluggish, the lingering effects of Harrison's energy had them acting drunk.
It was a strange name, not one he's ever heard before.
By the time they reached the capital, it was deep into the night.
The group booked a small, inconspicuous inn. It was quiet, save for the crackling of oil lamps and the soft breathing of weary men.
Shikaku sat in the corner of their shared room, staring out the window into the darkness. His hand absently moved over the photo of Shikamaru.
Nearly three weeks.
Three weeks of silence.
Of empty rooms. Of half-played Shogi boards and unopened lunches. Of a boy whose sharp mind and tired eyes were now only a ghost in his memory.
He clenched the photo, trying to steady his breath.
How many times had he been too tired to sit down and talk?
Too buried in clan reports to play one more game?
Too busy avoiding his wife to be present at home?
A failure. That's what he felt like now.
But not anymore.
"I'll find you," he whispered to the photo, voice low. "No matter where you are. I'll make this right."
Ensui turned over from his spot by the window. "Talking to ghosts again?"
Shikaku chuckled faintly. "Something like that."
Kakashi, half-asleep, grumbled, "We better not be chasing a myth."
Shibi murmured, "Even if it's not a dragon, it's still a lead."
They slept lightly that night, hearts heavy with hope and fear. Tomorrow, they'd try again. Because they had to.
They owed it to Shikamaru.
~
The morning light broke softly over the Fire Capital as Shikaku sat at the desk of their modest inn, ink staining his fingers as he scratched out the final words of a note to Asuma Sarutobi. The paper was crisp and the words firm: they had learned of a dragon sighting and a foreign man with immense power—and they suspected he had information about Shikamaru. The note was brief but urgent.
By afternoon, a sealed scroll arrived in response, carried by a palace messenger.
"On the orders of the royal family, I cannot speak freely in writing. But you may join me and Prince Shinji in the palace for a formal audience. Come tomorrow morning."
The following day, Shikaku, Kakashi, Shibi, and Ensui were escorted through the wide iron gates and polished stone halls of the palace. Their guide, a stern-faced samurai, led them through twisting halls until they reached a set of lacquered double doors. Inside, Prince Shinji stood with a small entourage—Asuma included, dressed in the royal guard's crimson and black uniform.
"Shikaku," Asuma greeted with a tight smile, clasping arms. "You're a sight for sore eyes."
"Wish I could say the same under better circumstances," Shikaku murmured.
Asuma nodded, then glanced to Shinji. "Let me be clear. While I am of Konoha, at this moment I am a guard of the Royal Family, I speak only under Prince Shinji's authority. What is shared here remains here."
Prince Shinji, young and composed in an embroidered navy robe, nodded gravely. "We have your word of discretion?"
The Konoha ninja nodded in unison. Shikaku stepped forward. "We're following a trail. My son, Shikamaru Nara, was taken over three weeks ago. We believe the man with the dragon may have saved him. We're only looking for the boy, we don't seek to harm this man."
At that, Asuma's eyes widened. "Shikamaru…? Damn. I'm sorry, Shikaku. Hari never mentioned a second child—just his infant son."
Prince Shinji shot Asuma a quick glance of censure, then sighed.
"We will speak freely," Shinji said, "but this information does not leave your lips or touch any report. The Daimyo himself has forbidden public knowledge of what occurred here."
The team nodded again.
"Hari," Shinji began slowly, "is not from the Elemental Nations. He arrived in Fire country with his child and dragon, but he doesn't come from any Hidden Village. He came from beyond the sea. Further than any map has ever dared stretch."
Kakashi blinked, leaning forward and scoffed. "That's impossible. The journey is too perilous, even for ninja."
Tanaka, one of Shinji's guards, stepped forward sharply. "Watch your tone."
But Shinji raised a calming hand. "It sounds fantastical, yes. But Hari arrived the night a comet fell. Do you remember it?"
Shikaku's breath caught.
He remembered. The very night Shikamaru vanished, he saw that comet blaze across the heavens. He had prayed on it. Begged.
"That comet was Hari's arrival," Shinji continued. "And with him came another man, an enemy. They battled each other. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. Hari called fire, water, lightning, earth—without hand seals. Without pause."
"Elemental manipulation without seals?" Shibi murmured.
"We thought it was bloodline limit. But then he summoned a dragon," Asuma said. "A massive black beast. Beautiful and terrible. He used himself to restrain the enemy, too drained to do much else and…" he glanced to Shinji.
"Ordered the dragon to burn them both, he came out unscathed but collapsed not long after," the prince said.
The room fell into silence.
"He spent eight days with us," Shinji added, quieter now. "He saved my life three times. Once from an assassin's blade, and once from poison and the day he arrived. He even left us a tool to detect toxins."
Kakashi whistled softly.
"He was a lord back in his homeland," Shinji added. "But he didn't seem to care much for titles."
"He was a good father," Asuma said. "The baby never cried for long. He was always with him. His dragon, too. Like a summon. No, more than that. Family."
"Why did he leave?" Shikaku asked.
"Because my father and Concubine Mei wished to chain him," Shinji said bitterly. "They plotted to marry him to one of her daughters. To tie him to our line. His dragon. His power. Hari wouldn't let that happen and he certainly wasn't going to let his son stay in a nest of vipers. So, he left."
Asuma picked up the thread. "The night he fled, he took his child, the dragon, and disappeared northeast."
Shikaku laughed.
A strange, sharp hysterical sound that made them all freeze.
"The night that comet fell," Shikaku said, voice cracking, "I begged for it to help me find my son. And now you're telling me the man who fell with the stars is the one holding him?"
He pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes.
"Maybe there are kami after all."
Ensui grinned beside him. Kakashi chuckled. Even Shibi cracked a faint smile.
"He wouldn't harm him?" Shikaku asked finally.
"Never," Asuma said firmly. "If anything, he'll protect him with his life."
Shikaku exhaled.
"Is there anything more you can tell us?"
Shinji hesitated. For just a moment, Shikaku saw his hand move to his robes, gripping something underneath. But then he dropped it.
"Only that the Daimyo has issued a bounty. Hari is to be captured alive. I don't know if the Dragon is included in that bounty, but I would assume so."
Shikaku nodded. "If you hear anything—sightings, rumours, anything—you'll send word?"
Shinji nodded. "Of course. For the boy's sake."
With that, the meeting was over.
Outside the palace, the sky had begun to darken.
Shibi turned to the group. "We received no trace of their chakra trail within Fire Country."
"Which means he didn't come this way," Kakashi said. "Probably looped back toward the Iron borders. Or went into the forests."
Shikaku nodded. "We'll head back. Check for tracks along the border. Hari wouldn't go near Lightning. Not so close to Kumo, Shikamaru would have told him not to."
He felt lighter.
Shikamaru was alive. He was safe. And he was with someone who would die before letting him be harmed if he believed Asuma's words.
For now, that was enough.
But they would find him, and he would bring his son home.
~
Shikaku had spent the week travelling the borderlands between Iron, Fire, and Grass Country with his team. The grind of the mission was beginning to wear on them all, but their determination never faltered. Each night brought more uncertainty, but on the thirty-first day since Shikamaru's disappearance, something changed.
That evening, as they rested beside a quiet stream in the hills edging toward Takigakure, Shikaku caught a glimpse of something black against the sky. It was vast, almost graceful in how it seemed to swim through the clouds. But the instant he blinked, it was gone. He stared upward, heart pounding.
"Shikaku?" Kakashi's voice cut through the silence. "You alright?"
"I... thought I saw something. A shadow, maybe." He shook his head, rubbing tired eyes. "Doesn't matter. Let's focus on tomorrow."
Pakkun led them onward the next day, his nose twitching as he sniffed the ground and trees. "Scent's faint, but it's here. Boy passed through, more than eight days ago."
They came across a small band of merchants a day's travel from Takigakure. Weathered faces, travel-worn and tired. One of the men mentioned, off-handedly, that the village had been attacked just days ago.
"But they were lucky," another chimed in. "Maashah-sama saved them. Fixed the damage, healed the wounded. Like a kami among mortals."
"Maashah-sama?" Ensui blinked.
One of the younger merchants nodded fervently. "Yes! He rode upon a dragon! Huge thing, black as night, wings that covered the sky! And with him—two sons. A baby, and a dark-haired boy, a little older."
Shikaku immediately produced the picture of Shikamaru. The merchant examined it and gasped. "Yes! That's him! He was with Maashah-sama! Looked a little sad the last time I saw him, poor thing, but his guardian was good to him. Kind. Protective."
Shikaku's hands shook as he lowered the image.
"Thank you," he managed. "Truly."
They took off at a sprint after that, the pace brutal but energised by hope. Ensui whooped in celebration, and even Kakashi cracked a grin.
By the time they reached Takigakure's concealed entrance, the sun was beginning to dip behind the trees. They didn't get far before being intercepted by sharp-eyed shinobi in green vests and stone-grey armour.
"State your business," the lead ninja barked. "We weren't informed of Konoha's presence."
"We heard about the attack from merchants," Shikaku said evenly. "We need to speak to your village head. Hisen-sama."
"Hisen-sama is away on urgent business in the capital," the ninja replied, clearly suspicious. "You will come with us."
Flanked by at least ten Taki-nin, they were escorted through the winding tunnels and waterways that made up the heart of Takigakure. Shikaku noted the signs of recent reconstruction, scorched stone, and burnt foliage, and faint traces of residual chakra in the air. A battle had definitely been fought here.
They were taken to a spartan chamber with bamboo mats and a long low table. Moments later, an older man entered with sharp eyes and a spine like steel.
"I am Senji," he said, voice gravelly. "Advisor to Hisen-sama. I will be your point of contact until he returns."
Shikaku bowed his head respectfully. "We appreciate your time."
Senji studied them for a long moment. "It is awfully convenient that Konoha arrives mere days after our village was attacked."
Shikaku narrowed his eyes. "We only learned of the attack yesterday."
"Convenient," Senji repeated, eyes gleaming. "Especially since our investigation revealed a traitor among our own. A traitor who admitted being promised sanctuary by a Konoha official—if he provided the secrets of our village."
The room went still.
Kakashi tensed. Ensui muttered a curse.
"That's a serious accusation," Shikaku said, voice like ice. "If you have a name, I want it. I am the Jounin Commander of Konoha. I did not authorise such a mission."
"Then take it up with Hisen-sama when he returns," Senji snapped. "Until then, I will not reveal more. I have no interest in sparking a war over baseless denials. Now—why are you here?"
Shikaku exhaled slowly, then reached into his cloak and retrieved the worn picture of Shikamaru.
"My son was kidnapped a month ago," he said. "We traced his trail across Earth Country, through Iron, and into your territory. Witnesses spoke of a man named Hari—or Maashah-sama, as your people seem to call him. We're not here to cause trouble. We know he was with this man. We only want to speak with him. I want my son back."
Senji went still, eyes narrowing, and a murmur passed among the Taki-nin standing guard behind him.
Finally, Senji said, voice lower, more thoughtful. "I should have noticed it sooner. He looks just like you. But we believed the boy's father was dead."
"He's not," Shikaku said. "I'm right here."
Senji was silent for a long time. Then his face hardened again.
"Tell me this, Jounin Commander. Why should we hand him back?" he asked, voice bitter now. "Why return a child to the village that sold him like cattle?"
A wave of fury surged through Shikaku.
The air in the room dropped.
A pressure rolled off him like thunderclouds over a battlefield.
"Watch your tongue," Shikaku said, voice dangerously quiet. "This kidnapping was orchestrated by Kumo. I've torn this continent apart for my son. I will get to the bottom of who did what. But you will not imply that I had anything to do with that betrayal."
Shikaku's killing intent hung in the air like a drawn blade—silent, heavy, and razor-sharp. The Taki-nin in the room had tensed the instant the oppressive pressure rolled out, some clutching at the hilts of their blades. But Senji, the aging advisor, stood unflinching.
It was a long moment before Senji finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "So. You claim no knowledge of what your village did. Of what your son endured."
Shikaku's hands clenched into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. "I don't claim. I swear it. I would never—my son is everything to me."
Senji studied him with a gaze that could have belonged to a thousand-year-old mountain. Slowly, he gave a measured nod.
"Then perhaps… you should know that Maashah-sama is no longer in Takigakure. He left the night after the battle."
The room froze.
"What?" Ensui asked, voice cracking with disbelief. "He left?"
Senji inclined his head solemnly. "After the attack, he feared the bounty on his head would bring more danger to the village. Especially with a dragon and two children in his care. He left under the cover of darkness."
Shikaku's stomach plummeted.
"We were so close," Ensui whispered, devastated. "So damn close…"
Shikaku's voice trembled. "Did he say where? Where he was going?"
"I'm afraid not," Senji replied. "He only spoke with Hisen-sama before leaving. Not even I was privy to all the details."
Shikaku swore quietly under his breath, the words bitter in his mouth. Desperation welled up in his chest, as his fingers shook slightly.
Senji sighed, eyes still searching their faces. "You truly had nothing to do with his kidnapping, then?"
A fresh wave of fury surged in Shikaku's veins. "Of course not! He's my son!"
Senji held up a hand, forestalling the shout. "I believe you. Or rather… I believe now that your intentions are genuine. Hisen told me something. Something Hari-sama shared with him that may… offer some context."
The advisor's expression softened, just slightly.
"Maashah-sama—Hari, I suppose—confided in Hisen that he had no idea the boy in his care was of the Nara clan. When Hisen told him that he could recognise a Nara anywhere, Hari didn't understand. The boy… your son, never told him his surname."
Kakashi raised a brow. "That's strange. I thought they were close?"
Senji nodded. "They are. Very much so. But even in safety, a child can carry deep scars. He had made a good friend here, and Hisen overheard your boy saying he always wanted his mother to be like Hari-sama. And yes," he added, seeing the shock on their faces, "he used the word mother, not father."
Shikaku sat down slowly, as if his knees could no longer hold his weight.
Senji continued. "Hari said he was flying over the Aisu Sea when he heard a child's cry. He saw a boy leap from a ship—a child willing to drown rather than remain captive. Hari saved him. Killed the three missing-nin who meant to sell him to Kumo. But what broke him… was learning the boy's own mother orchestrated it all."
A heavy silence fell. The kind that suffocated.
Shikaku stared ahead, blankly. "You lie," he whispered. "She may hate me. Hate the clan. But she would never… never sell her son. Not for…"
He trailed off, and Ensui's jaw tightened.
"Yes, she would," his cousin said bluntly. "And you know it. She's never been a mother to him. That woman made your life, and his, hell. She only ever wanted the status. When she didn't get what she thought she deserved, she made you both pay."
Shikaku closed his eyes. "There was a clause in the contract…"
He swallowed thickly, remembering.
"If the bride bore an heir and that heir was declared deceased. The bride would only bear one heir… she could annul the marriage. Reclaim her dowry. Take half the clan's monetary holdings."
His voice trembled. "That bitch…"
A beat of silence. Then softly, "I'm going to kill her."
Nobody argued.
Senji folded his hands. "According to Hari-sama, the boy was told by the missing-nin that his clan no longer wanted him. That he had been sold to be bred. And from what little Shikamaru has said, Hari-sama believes it."
Shikaku's voice broke. "But we didn't. I didn't…"
Senji's voice was quiet but firm. "It doesn't matter. He thinks you did. Hari thinks he was saving a child who had been betrayed by both family and country. Who believed his father was dead. Hari has taken him in, claimed him, and would protect him with his life."
Kakashi's eye narrowed. "That may be true, but Shikamaru Nara is a citizen of Konoha. An heir to a noble clan. If this… Hari took him in knowingly or not, he's still in possession of a child that belongs to the village."
Senji frowned. "Perhaps. But the boy believes he has no home to return to. That his mother sold him, and his father is dead. You cannot blame him for accepting care from another."
Shikaku met Senji's gaze head-on. "You swear to me—on whatever honour this village holds—that he loves my son?"
Senji nodded without hesitation. "He loves him."
Shikaku took a deep breath. "Then… fine."
"What?" Ensui, Kakashi, and even Shibi turned to him in shock.
"He's my son. But right now, his safety matters more than where he sleeps. If this Hari is who you say he is, then Shikamaru is safe. And I'll never stop searching. I'll find him. There's still two months left of the mission, you three will carry on searching. But I need to fix things first. I need to make Konoha safe for him again."
His voice lowered. "Because there is no way in hell he'll come back to a place where that woman walks free. And if he believes I'm dead… then it's on me to correct that."
Senji seemed to accept this answer. "We'll offer you quarters for the night. Okada will escort you."
The man named Okada nodded from where he stood, then quietly stepped closer as the others began to file out.
"I've seen them together," he said quietly to Shikaku. "Your son and Hari. I've seen them laugh. Sleep in a tangled pile with the baby on Hari's chest. Cloud watch on the rooftops, wrapped in blankets. Your son smiles more now than I ever thought a child with such weight on his shoulders could."
Shikaku swallowed.
Okada continued. "The people call him Maashah. Hari told me it means mother in his language. I've never seen someone more deserving of the title, man or not. Your son is in good hands."
Shikaku could only nod, eyes stinging.
Then the door shut, and he collapsed against it, sliding down the wall with a soft, broken gasp.
Ensui was there in an instant, arms around him.
"I failed him," Shikaku whispered hoarsely. "I let that woman… I failed him, Ensui."
Ensui gripped him tightly. "No. You didn't. You're here now. You're fighting for him now."
But Shikaku couldn't stop the sobs that ripped from his chest, each one deeper than the last. Rage, guilt, despair—they all poured out of him.
Through it all, one promise anchored him.
I will find you, Shikamaru. I swear it.
~
If only any of them had thought to ask Fu.
In her room, nestled safely in her blankets, she was staring at a silver-edged mirror in her hands. She'd been told not to use it until tomorrow.
Beside her on the nightstand sat the note in clumsy handwriting, barely legible but written with care. And on her neck, the pendant gleamed faintly in the candlelight.
She hugged the mirror close, smiling tearfully.
"Wait till Papa sees this," she whispered to herself, imagining Hisen's surprise.
Tomorrow, she would call her Maashah and pineapple-head.
But tonight… she dreamt of dragons.
And Shikaku and his team will be long gone by the time she shares what the mirror actually does to the others.