An experimental piece from me. I'm very weak at expressing emotions in my writings, and this is just a try outs. xD Thanks for your time reading this. I really appreciate it. :3 Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. (._.)


The skies are painted in bright red mixed with dim yellowish orange sun as it found its way down across the horizon. Sitting on top of the roof was Shikamaru, silhouetted by the fading light. There he is, thinking to himself, reminiscence all the memories that he tried to forget. All of it. The good and mostly the bad ones. It's not as easy as he thought. Hell, nobody tell it was easy. It was meant to be this way, the hard way. A great shinobi life they said. That just eating his heart out, in a slow and painful way. He has been declining a lot of missions after the war, his popular nickname sticks around whether he wants it or not. It's not that he care if people called him lazy. He is lazy. Lazy to face another battle, lazy to feel all this sorrow, lazy to see another lost soul. But lazy isn't the right word. He knew it better.

His face cringed to his thoughts. He used to be a laid back person, the ones who couldn't care less for the world. He just wanted a simple life. A happy and peaceful life. But then, troubles, always finding their way into his way, snatching few souls of his beloved as times passed by. He's afraid to see more of his loss than gain in his future, but that's what he's got to see. He have to. It doesn't really give him much of a choice, isn't it?

"Unfair."he uttered, puffing smokes from his mouth as he briefly took out his cigarette before putting it back in.

He has been sitting there for a while now. Chilly night winds wrapped up on his skins. The Konoha streets are still busy at this hours, with people hustling down, passing by each other. Thinking of all the damage caused by the war, these people manage to live this life as if yesterday was nothing for them. What if it's really is something for each one of them? And they're just good at shrugging it off and moving on. Shikamaru curled his lips, nodding to his own agreement.

He lit up another cigarette, puffing it few times on his mouth. Smoking is the only way he could think straight. He's aware that it's killing him slowly, but he has no intention to live longer, even if he wanted to. Pulling the cigarette out, his let out the smokes slowly, letting the burning sensation seep into his mind. He close his eyes tightly, feeling all the energy surrounding him, diving deep into the valley of his flooding emotions. He didn't even bother to take another puff of his cigarette. Instead, he just let it melt away into ashes in his hand. He stayed like that for almost 15 minutes.

Lazily opening his eyes, he noticed two figures, leaping from one rooftop to another, far from the distant. The dark figures gone as quick as it appear right before his eyes. He smile to the view, he used to be so eager going on a mission. It was not until Asuma-Sensei died. He changed a lot. Like, a lot. He don't want to say he's losing his passion in his Shinobi life, no. It's not that.

It's just something that he failed to figure out and here he is, waiting for something to happen. Something better. There has got to be something nice for him in this world, right? It's supposed to. His inner-self angered without any obvious reason.

"I should just sleep" he took a deep breath, putting off his cigarette by squishing it under his shoes. He took a short leap, landed on his balcony, taking the last look of the village that he would gladly die for. He somehow has got himself an inspiration to see another light, to breathe another day. Maybe one day, he could see the good things in everything that happened in the past. Maybe there is. What he needed to do is to clear up his head from feeling sorry for everyone else in this village, and he knew it very well that he should stop feeling sorry for himself.