Cap4:)

I will give myself the benefit of the doubt and say that I was not finishing quickly on purpose for the sake of proving my own superiority to my classmates, as most children would do, but rather, to prove my own ego to myself – and to my parents. I liked games, and so to me, every test was like a game, and my score was determined by how much time I had left. Besides, the more time I had left, the more time I would have to go outside to the Academy playground and train by myself. I knew that sitting for a few more minutes to check my work would not help me any more than not checking my work, whereas exercising my muscles would. One of my father's many philosophies, after all, had been those born blessed with a superior mind must still work like anyone else to develop a superior body. And, as my mother's work ethic always taught me, take advantage of every second you've got – and so I did.

My raw strength had been just the same as all the other students', but when it came to things like technique – how to most efficiently distribute power – I had an edge. I was a fast learner, a fast mover, and highly coordinated, and so physically I could deal out more damage than the rest of my friends even though we all were more or less on the same level strength-wise. And so no matter how many shuriken Sasuke Uchiha, the runner-up, threw, no matter how many ANBU Naruto Uzumaki, the dead-last, outran, the Academy teachers soon pronounced that it would be impossible for anyone to catch up to me.

Which wasn't true. I knew I was smart now, but if there was one thing my father warned me against it was arrogance, because no man can control the future perfectly.

But never mind that. Despite being Shikamaru Nara, I was still just a regular six-year-old, and whatever words of wisdom my father came up with, they would surely be ignored in favor of so-calledexperience when they passed through my lips.

And therein came the source of my parents' first – and, luckily, their last – argument.

It had started innocently enough. At around the end of the first semester marking period, the Academy instructors and some other Konoha officials had analyzed my scores, and, after realizing that they were leaps and bounds ahead of anyone else they had ever seen, including all of the child prodigies that had come before me, considered bumping me up a few classes.

I was still young and naïve then, for all of my intelligence. I had had no opinion on the matter at the time. I was just a kid. As long as I could still have my friends and praise from my parents and teachers I was happy. Vaguely I knew that I was a smart and special kid, since everyone always told me that, but I couldn't exactly tell just how far apart I was from my classmates. When you're six years old, you areyou and they are them. So what if I had more gold stars than everyone else? Ino was Ino and Choji was Choji and Sasuke was Sasuke and Naruto was Naruto and biologically speaking, your brain takes a while to fully develop its own sense of self.

My mother, on the other hand, had been all for it.

That was when my father stepped in and rescued me.

"No," he had said, and put down his foot firmly, and so even the Hokage, who had been wholly in favor of the idea, backed down. "Just – no."

The nice thing about being a Nara was that no matter how quietly you talked, when you talked (and I mean actually speaking, not just complaining), people listened.

But my mother was a Nara, too, by name if not by birth, and she had had different ideas. A headstrong woman, she could not fathom why anyone wouldn't take such a grand opportunity when it was right in his face like so. That night, she had asked – well, demanded was a more appropriate word, seeing as this was my mother – to know just exactly why my father was halting my education.

Of course, he had anticipated this question, and had had an entire list prepared.

And so we come back to me – six years old, huddled up against the wall, hidden in the shadows, finally getting a glimpse of what the fate of a child like me might be.

"No child genius has ever had a nice life. Not in the shinobi world. Shikamaru can have fame and glory if he likes, but it will not be as a child prodigy. His life will be hard enough as an adult, in this line of work. Let him be happy while he can."

My mother might be considered by many to be a bossy and overbearing woman, but never let it be said that she didn't know reason when she heard it.

When the next day finally arrived, there was no more of that "ridiculous talk" (my father's words, not mine) of me graduating early. I would stay put where I was, with children my age, and grow up normally – or, I suppose, as normally as anyone could, being bombarded with all this war and desensitization propaganda at the age of six moving forward.

Still, my mother managed to convince my father that he should help fuel my talent before it died out completely, since it was clear that I was becoming bored at school. That, my father could agree on – he didn't particularly care how far I advanced between ages six and twelve, as long as I didn't put on the Konoha hitai-ate any earlier than that. I think in the ideal world, for him, children wouldn't formally complete their education until they were at least eighteen, but when they finally did, we'd be pumping out students no less than jonin level. For him, one did not become a Chunin after one passed the Chunin Exams – one should already be high-Chunin level walking into that thing. No point in taking a potentially lethal test only to fail, or worse, die.

I suppose this arrangement ended up being all the better for me. I had friends in my class – Choji and Ino from before the Academy days (though more Choji than Ino, who liked to play with the other girls, too) – and I didn't want to leave them. Even if Sasuke had a habit of sulking and being moody for no apparent reason, and Naruto and Kiba were a bit on the boisterous side. They were still my friends. Anyway, my teachers were knowledgeable of my situation, too (as they were the ones who had brought up the whole "skip six grades" idea to my father and the Hokage in the first place), and usually let me do my own work while they helped the rest of the class on a concept that I had mastered a long time ago. Plus, at night, unlike the rest of my friends, I got to stay up late, sometimes even past twelve, sitting around a bonfire with my father and watching the light and shadow flicker around on the ground.

My childhood was a quite pleasant one, apart from the regular trials and tribulations of children.

But time flies so quickly, and soon I was looking at my own reflection on my polished forehead protector, wondering when I turned twelve.

Maybe that was why my father liked to take things so slowly.

(But I never forgot my father's boogeyman, and all throughout my life, his words – words that he didn't even know I had heard – would haunt me.)

("Those who walk the shadows may very well become one with them.")