𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝒀𝑶𝑼 | 𝑲.𝑰𝑵𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑨 [2]

The Demon of Konoha

At night, under the silver glow of the moon, Ruka stood outside the Nara clan estate. The air was cool, carrying the whispers of leaves rustling in the wind. She stood before Shikamaru, her posture straight but her heart heavy with sorrow. The young ninja had an air of calm determination, but her eyes betrayed the turmoil within. Shikamaru's expression was a mixture of disbelief and simmering anger as he faced her.

Ruka took a deep breath, her voice steady but soft. "Look," she began, her gaze locking with Shikamaru's. "You looked up to him more than a mentor... you deserve to avenge him."

Shikamaru scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. "Why are you talking like Asuma is nothing to you?" His voice rose with each word, frustration evident. "I've lost my teacher, but you've lost your father. You should be the one avenging him."

Ruka's gaze fell to the ground, her eyes clouded with sorrow. "I don't have the right... I took his life after all." Her voice was barely above a whisper, weighed down by the guilt that gnawed at her soul. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet Shikamaru's once more, a faint smile playing on her lips. "It's up to you. I'll be going after them. If you're coming, grab Kakashi."

Shikamaru's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing. Before he could respond, Ruka vanished in a poof of smoke, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her presence. The suddenness of her departure left Shikamaru staring at the empty spot where she had stood, his emotions a tumultuous blend of anger, confusion, and a growing sense of resolve.

The journey to the Nara estate had been long and arduous for Ruka, both physically and emotionally. She had replayed the events of her father's death countless times in her mind, each memory a dagger to her heart. As she stood before Shikamaru, the weight of her guilt pressed down on her like a physical burden, but she knew she couldn't let it paralyze her. The mission ahead was too important.

Shikamaru watched the spot where Ruka had disappeared, his fists clenched at his sides. The calm demeanor she had displayed felt like a betrayal, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within him. He couldn't understand how she could be so composed, so detached. But as her words sank in, he realized the depth of her pain. She wasn't detached; she was drowning in her guilt.

"Her mind is exactly like a shogi board, always thinking several moves ahead," Shikamaru muttered to himself, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and sorrow. He reached into his pocket and took out a lighter, the cold metal comforting in his hand. Flipping its lid open, he stared at the spark wheel, the tiny flame that would ignite a reminder of his sensei.

"Asuma-sensei," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze. "It feels like she's trapped in a game she can't win, and I'm powerless to change the outcome."

The lighter clicked shut with a finality that echoed the heaviness in Shikamaru's heart. He was acutely aware of the burden Ruka carried, the immense guilt and sorrow that weighed her down. Her calm demeanor earlier had been a mask, one that hid the turmoil and pain she was experiencing. The thought of her enduring this alone, facing the demons of her actions, was almost too much to bear.

Shikamaru sighed deeply, his breath visible in the cool night air. He knew Ruka's determination was born from the same place as his own—a fierce loyalty to Asuma and a desire to see justice served. But the path she had chosen was fraught with danger and uncertainty. She was willing to risk everything, even her own life, to make things right.

-

-

Ruka's breath came in ragged gasps as she faced Hidan, Kakuzu, and Keiko. The morning sun cast long shadows over the battlefield, painting the scene in a surreal blend of light and darkness. Sweat dripped down her forehead, mingling with the dirt and blood smeared across her face. Her body screamed in protest with every movement, exhaustion gnawing at her muscles, but she couldn't afford to stop. Not now.