Me: What's your cure for writer's block?
Me: I recently came down with a case of it.
Me: Thankfully, I'm all better now.
Me: *sneezes*
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
The sun was bright as Shikamaru emerged from the hideout. He squinted uncomfortably.
Since when had it been so warm outside? Maybe it was just because his body felt so cold. It was probably because he'd been underground for so long. He shivered.
Yukan noticed Shikamaru's pale face. He put a hand to Shikamaru's forehead, gauging the temperature with his palm. He felt his own forehead.
"You're burning up."
"I no-noticed that," Shikamaru muttered. His teeth were chattering. A bead of sweat dripped off of his forehead as his hands dropped to his knees.
Yukan stared at him, horrified. Had he done something wrong? Made the wrong seals? Did he not use enough chakra?
His head whipped back to the entrance of the hideout. They were taking too long.
He bent down so that his eyes were level with Shikamaru's. "Can you make it to the forest line?"
Shikamaru nodded slowly. "Help me."
Yukan took Shikamaru's arm, slung it around his shoulders, and began to run.
What was taking the boy so long?
Maybe he was busy vomiting over the man he'd killed. Maybe he'd fainted on the stairs.
The bandit rolled his eyes and groaned in exasperation. It wouldn't be the first time. He'd seen Yukan faint over things like a dead squirrel that Leader, his big brother, had killed for dinner. Yukan had taken one look at the rodent, with a kunai stuck in its tiny heart and red viscera spilling out of its torn-open abdominal cavity, and had fallen over backwards. The bandit could still see his eyes rolling back into his head. Yukan had been seven years old, and disgraced in the eyes of everyone he knew. The bandit sneered to himself. A weak mind and a faint heart. He would never make a successful bandit, like his brother.
But what about the man he'd killed downstairs?
Maybe Yukan was just a late bloomer. Maybe he had an inner ruthless hidden until now. Maybe Yukan would prove him wrong.