[Dropped] Too Smart For My Own Good (Shikamaru Love Story)

Missing

When she regained consciousness, she couldn’t open her eyes. Half of it was her desire to remain floating in her peaceful dreamland. The other half was the fear that when she opened her eyes, she’d see all the hatred of the villagers around her.

What had happened? She remembered feeling angry…but why? There was the fight, and the Kazekage, and then…Shika? Shika…

“Shikamaru!” She bolted upright with frenzied panting, drenched in a cold sweat that clung the sticky substance to her clothes. She mistook her worry for rage as the previous day’s events floated into her with a sudden rush. The muddled haze that enclosed her dispersed, and she ground her teeth in irritation. “Baka! I’ll kill you!”

Her sweltering fury submersed to confusion when she realized the room around her was neither the arena nor her apartment. She didn’t recognize the dreary stone walls, dimly flickering oil lamps, strangely cool temperature, and lonely aura of the unfurnished chamber. Nor did she wish to. Nothing but the lighted lamps that offered no heat and Naomi’s panicked heartbeat showed any signs of life. So where was she?

For a brief moment, she wondered if Shika had taken her to his home after she lost consciousness. The icy, dull surroundings fit him perfectly. She wouldn’t hold it against him to do that. She could hear his smug voice taunting in that lazy drawl of his, “I saved your life. Now you owe me.” Growling, she lifted her hand to mask her yawn, and heard faint clinking.

“What the—” One look at the gleaming cuff encasing her wrist and her voice failed. This definitely wasn’t Shika’s house. A sudden pressure on her throat as she snarled made her retrained hands fly to it in reflex. Another shackle. What was she, a dog? Delivering a sharp jerk to the collar, she received an intense pierce through her body. A bloody scream tore and ripped through her raw throat. Its parched condition made her question how long she’d really been asleep. The electric jolt flowed easily, leaving her numb and tingling.

When it finally ended, she felt sore and exhausted, her delicate muscles straining, trembling, aching, demanding she succumb to her own weakness, to be encased by the darkness that enticed her so.

That would make you no better than Shikamaru.

 

That’s right, she noticed. In the end, he gave up, too. She couldn’t stoop to his level. She wouldn’t. Breathe, she told herself, breathe!

The door rendered a loud click. Well, it would have been inaudible had it been under normal circumstances, but the thick silence had magnified it tenfold. But whether it was earsplitting or not, it still displayed a sign of life. As the metal barricade creaked open, even the tiniest bit of light it yielded blinded Naomi. She underwent a burst of hope.

“Shikamar—” This time she cut herself off. It wasn’t him.

“Ahh,” the white-haired boy mused, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Was the precious little princess expecting her prince to rescue her?” He crossed the room swiftly before tugging her chin upwards. “Give it up, girl, nobody’s coming to save you.” He leaned closer to her ear. “Nobody cares.”

Rapidly ignited, her speeding fist was swallowed in the boy’s larger one. His smirk deteriorated to a nasty sneer while Naomi’s wrath bordered on insanity.