Kurenai opened the door, her heart stopping at the sight of Shikamaru. His face was shadowed with grief.

"Asuma... didn't make it," he said, voice heavy.

The world around her blurred. She clutched her stomach, where their unborn child—his child—grew. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she held herself together. For their daughter.

Years Later

The wind carried the faint scent of cigarettes, though no one was smoking. {{user}} knelt before the memorial stone, fingers tracing the name Sarutobi Asuma. She had never met him, yet she felt his presence in the stories Shikamaru told, in her mother’s soft smiles, in the strength she carried within her.

Kurenai watched her daughter from a short distance, pride swelling in her chest. {{user}} had grown into a strong, determined young kunoichi—one Asuma would have been proud of.

"You always come here," Kurenai said gently, stepping beside her.

{{user}} nodded. "I just… feel close to him here."

A breeze rustled the trees. It almost felt like a response.

Kurenai placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling. "He’s always with you, you know."

And deep down, {{user}} believed it.