Author's Note: This came out of nowhere, I swear to God.

Forgetting Tomorrow
Prologue

Shinichi Nara rests silently on top of a large branch, balancing himself just well enough as he focuses silently to his breathing. Things were peaceful today, he makes a note mentally, never straining his eyes too much while he gazes on the scenery of the field before him, where a couple of some genins were practising—loud noises skims through the air, alerting possibly anyone who's nearby of their presence.

Shinichi doesn't make much of it.

"Hey." A voice behinds him comes, soft-sounding and familiar, and Shinichi quietly estimates where exactly his sister is without turning to find out. "Stalking much?"

A grin can't help itself from breaking out to be plastered on his usually cool face, finally craning his neck to face no other than Shikamai Nara herself. Half of her darkening pink hair tied behind in a braid, revealing the darker shade of brownish pink hue undercut she harboured underneath while her dark eyes gleam mischievously in greeting. Shinichi were, for a moment, tempted to roll his eyes—but have decided against it. "You wish."

"Creep."

"Jerk-face."

Shikamai snickers again, light and easy, before jumping over to stand on the branch that he's occupied—knowing full well he doesn't have to scream at her since she already probably has calculated and determined that judging from the size of the branch, it would have been able to withstand both Shinichi and her weights at the same time. She's smart like that. Always has been.

"No news?" He tries to not make it sound as gravely as it actually is—he's the eldest one here, he's supposed to keep his cool—trying to bite onto his lips when he notices Shikamai flinching, even though they both know it's coming.

Shikamai looks solemn, no longer the look of the usual happy child she's so typically known for, eyes darkening. "No."

It's been a month, Shinichi could almost hear what they're not saying. No. It's been over a month. Fifty seven days. And the last they've heard of their parents were about thirty two days ago. They've come out with lots of scenarios why such things could be happening. They're smart kids, of course they would. Yet none of their theories were confirmed nor denied, not by a friend and certainly not by any of the high ranked officials. In addition, it can't helped that no matter their ranks—him, in the middle of partaking his jounin exams, and Shikamai, having only just passed her chunin exams two weeks ago (she'd have taken it sooner given if she wasn't easily distracted by possibly everything else in the world)—they were still seen as just kids. Children.

They've also been told to not cause any trouble than necessary (meaning, really: don't snoop and poke your genius little noses where they're not meant to be), straightly from the Hokage himself, and who were Shinichi or his siblings to rebel against such orders?

They refuse to tell them anything, only reassuring that their parents were—most likely—still alive.

At this point, Shinichi doesn't know what or who to believe.

"I miss them," Shikamai interrupts his thought sadly, looks onto the sky as though it would open up perhaps, and rain them the answers they sorely need.

"They're okay," Shinichi has to tell his sister—his little sister—and maybe convincing himself along the process, never dwelling too much on the fact that they're still pretty much children. He's only a few months shy from officially aged to be seventeen, and she's only fifteen years old. And—sad it may be—they could be orphans. "They're mom and dad. They're okay."

Shikamai does this smile like she's trying to believe him—he hates that smile—and looks up ahead again without breaking the expression, not even once. Her optimism is rebuilding itself, he could feel it, and what once a hopeless smile a few seconds ago gradually turns gentler, kinder. Like mom's. God, she looks like mom so much. Except those eyes. Or when she sneers. That's something even Shinichi and their little brother, Asuma, share.

"Come on." Shikamai stands up then, looking smug, hands steady on her hips—eyes hardening in a raw determination that she could always find in dire situations, facing up against the wind like it's her natural enemy. "Let's go get Asuma, and then we can—"

"Go home?"

"Yeah." Shikamai huffs. "We'll make it clean, so mom doesn't have to nag about it when they come home."

He doesn't remind her that they've been cleaning the house—or have kept it clean since— the day mom and dad were supposed to arrive in the village, but didn't. Shinichi stands up, and, maybe, he's trying to comfort her again. Or himself. He's not very sure at this point. "They will come home, you know."

"Of course I know that." Shikamai rolls her eyes, and starts jumping on another branch. "They're mom and dad, stupid."

Shinichi scoffs, offended. "Jerk-face."

"Asshole."

"Race you to the village."

"The last one takes deer-feeding duty for the week!"

Shinichi wins.

End Note: As of August 20 2015, 7:19 PM—due to deeper investigation, Sayuri Nara (the second child of Shikamaru and Sakura) has been changed to Shikamai Nara.