This story takes place right after the war. I always wondered how Shikamaru and Yoshino handled Shikaku's death, and I think this might've been one way.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Shikamaru took a deep, shaky breath as he stepped into the village. It was the first time he, or any of the other Leaf shinobi, had stepped into the village since the war had ended. It took several days for them to clean the battlefield, identifying and sorting the dead to their proper villages, and it took a toll on everyone.

Shikamaru was a bit surprised at the little damage that the village received, just a few remnants of the tree roots that bound everyone in the infinite tsukuyomi. It probably helped that the village was so far from the battlefield.

Shikamaru felt a hand on his shoulder and saw the sad look on Choji's face. "You going to be ok to face her alone?" the cubby boy asked.

Shikamaru took in another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I'll be ok."

Choji didn't look too convinced, but he nodded and headed towards his home with his father.

Shikamaru frowned as he watched the father and son duo, knowing that he would never have a chance to walk with his old man ever again. He closed his eyes as he felt tears try to well up in his eyes and took another slow, deep breath. He hadn't shed a tear for his father yet. He had to stay strong for his mother.

He made his way slowly towards his home, but when he saw it, he froze. Memories of his father teaching him in the yard, or just sitting there talking sprang to the front of his mind. His breathing shook again as he had to take several deep breaths to calm himself down, before he finally took the steps towards his house.

When he stepped through the door, he saw his mother round the corner, holding a large frying pan in the air, but when she saw him, she dropped the pan, smiled widely, and ran up to him.

"Oh, Shikamaru," she cried out as she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're alright." She took a step back and held him at arm's length, looking him up and down to assess how he looked. "Are you hurt anywhere? Did you get any severe injuries?"

"No. I'm alright," Shikamaru replied. He wasn't going to tell her that he had almost died because he wasn't fast enough to dodge a root. He'd wait until things had calmed down a bit.

"Good," she said as she smiled back at him, then looked over his shoulder. "Where's your father? Is he still with the Hokage and the other commanders?"

Shikamaru's breath hitched at the mention of his father, and the tears threatened to well up again. It took all of his willpower to hold them back.

When Shikamaru didn't answer her, Yoshino looked back at her son, a frown crossing her face. "Shikamaru?"

Shikamaru swallowed and gave her a heartbroken look.

Yoshino took a step back, a hand over her mouth, and shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "No," she begged quietly.

"I'm sorry, mom. The enemy attacked the headquarters where dad was. As far as I know, there were no survivors."

"No," Yoshino said again, and the tears fell down her face. "No. It can't be."

Shikamaru rushed to catch his mother as her legs gave out on her, and he gently lowered them to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his shoulder. He was struggling badly to keep the tears at bay, but he knew his mother needed him, so he closed his eyes and held the tears back.

He wasn't sure how long they sat in the hallway, but eventually, Yoshino had cried herself to sleep in his arms, so he carefully picked her up and carried her to her room.

He watched as another tear slipped down his mother's face, but the woman's eyes remained closed. He grabbed a blanket that was on the end of the bed and covered her before he made his way out.

He took another deep breath as he leaned back on the closed door, eyes closed and head tilted up so that he would be looking at the ceiling if his eyes were open. The tears were still threatening to well up, but he took another deep, shaky breath to keep them at bay, and after a few more seconds, headed towards the bathroom.

He turned on the water to warm, then peeled off the clothes he wore, seriously debating whether he wanted to throw them in the laundry basket, or burn them in a fire. He was covered in dirt, grim, and other stuff he didn't even want to identify, and he felt absolutely disgusting.

He piled the clothes on the ground for now, opting to decide later what he would do with them, then stepped under the warm spray of the shower. He closed his eyes and let the water run over his face, then grappled a rag and lathered it up with soap. He scrubbed his body hard, trying to get rid of all the reminders of what he went through in the war. His skin felt like it was permanently stained with the sweat and blood of his fallen comrades.

After a good half hour of scrubbing, he finally felt satisfied enough to get out, then made his way to his room to get dressed. After that, he laid on his bed and just stared at the ceiling. All the memories of what he went through was racing through his mind, and he kept tossing and turning to try and get away from them.

Finally, he decided to get up and head to the back porch, and sat down next to one of the support beams and stared at the small pond area they had there. He didn't want to think anymore, just wanted all of it to go away.

He heard something fall behind him, and when he looked back, his eyes went wide. Sitting there, inside the room he and his dad usually played shogi, was the forgotten game. He frowned as he stood up and walked over to it, and the tears did well up this time.

The pieces were still scattered over the board, stuck mid-game, and the memory of the last game he played with his father hit him. They never finished that game. They had been called to Tsunade's office in the middle of the game, then preparation for the war took priority.

He sat down in his seat and he reached out to move one of the pieces, a single tear running down his cheek. He remembered it was his turn. The small clack of the piece as he placed it was like a jolt to his system, and another tear fell.

"Let it out, boy."

Shikamaru's eyes went wide as he looked up. He saw a ghost of his father sitting there, arms crossed, and the tears fell freely now. "D-dad."

Shikaku smiled at him. "Just let it out. It's ok to cry."

Shikamaru's face twisted and the tears fell harder. "I-I can't do this. I... We still need you."

Shikaku's smile fell. "I will always be with you and your mother, Son."

"It's not the same!" Shikamaru yelled as the tears continued to fall. "You were supposed to be here to teach me how to be the next head, to show me how to lead, to..."

Shikaku was suddenly beside him, hugging the boy. "I'm sorry that I can't be there for you. I wanted to be. I wanted to see you become the fine man I know you will be. To see you find love, and to see my grandchild. To watch you lead our clan proudly."

Shikamaru clung to his father's ghost, burying his face in the man's shoulder. "I didn't want to take over the clan like this."

"I know, but you have to be strong now. Strong for your mother, and strong for your clan. I know you can do this."

Shikamaru's grip tightened.

Shikaku stayed quiet as Shikamaru cried. The last time he had done this, when Asuma had died, he had left the boy alone, but this time, he wouldn't do that. This time he would be there for him.

It wasn't long before Shikamaru had cried himself to sleep, and Shikaku gently laid Shikamaru's head on the cushion the boy had previously been sitting on. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair gently. "I'll always be there when you need me," he said before he disappeared.

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I hope you guys enjoyed it. I know it wasn't that long, but I don't think it needed to be. Let me know what you thought in a comment below.