Author's Note: Spur-of-the-moment thing. I like these the best. I was actually trying to envision a scene for a story I'll probably never write when I suddenly really understood Shikamaru here. So here's a short little vignette for you. Problem was, I always called this Shikamaru 235. Guess I'll think of a mediocre title after I write this note. R&R'ing would be loved. Standard disclaimers apply. (Draft 2: Slightly edited.)

I don't want to do it anymore. I am afraid.

I am afraid that one day, I'll be out there in the heat of battle, and I won't be able to protect them, no matter how hard I try. That I'll be responsible for their lives, and I will fail. I'm not stupid; I don't think that I can do everything.

"You are also not a man. You're just a regular coward," I hear my father say.

What the hell does he know?

I feel stiff, and I don't turn around to face him, but I already know what he looks like. He should be leaning against the wall, too lazy to support his own weight, his arms crossed in front of his jounin flak jacket. The two slender scars that run on the right side of his furrowed face. I am not stupid; I know he knows far more than I want to give him credit for.

"Even if you quit being a shinobi, missions will still occur. Your friends will just go out there under a new leader. So then, maybe your friends will die… something that might not have happened had you been their leader."

I can't help it--I clench my fists as I envision this. My friends risking everything all the while I'm safe at home. My friends being in danger and I'm not there to help.

"Become greater for your companions," my father continues. I feel myself tremble. I want him to shut up and stop tearing into my wounds, telling me things I already see coming. "That's what it means to be a real friend! You coward!"

Shut up, shut up. I don't know how many times I've been called that before, but now is when it stings the most.

I know he's right. Damnit. I am a coward.

I vaguely hear myself being told that Neji's condition has stabilized, and that my mission has failed.

Damnit. Tears pour out of my unmanly eyes when I can't hold it in anymore.

"Next time," I shout, to myself more than to anyone else, "I will show that I can do it without mistakes!" My friends will not die if I can help it. And I plan to do my best to help it.

I breathe out slowly and try to calm my shaking shoulders. I will do my best, I remind myself.

It will be troublesome.