AN: A HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! ^_^ I was afraid the interest in the story had diminished, but everyone's lovely comments let me know otherwise.

To ZakuroU - Thank you, your reviews always make my day! Also, Sato-San, that was a very accurate summary, LOL.

And special thank you to everyone for the reviews, favorites, and follows. They're very inspiring! ^_^

One last note: It's probably apparent, but just in case I wasn't too clear Shikaku wrote this right after the failed Sasuke retrieval mission just before the time skip in the manga.

~Shikaku on Being A Shinobi~

Dear Shikamaru,

Being a shinobi isn't a job for the faint of heart.

I didn't think I'd ever have to tell you that, but after that fiasco with Sasuke Uchiha, I now think I do.

Shinobi are tools for their village to use at their disposal. That's the official line most ninja live with.

I've never said a word to you on the subject itself one way or the other, but now I will.

Tools are blunt instruments with no thoughts or feelings of their own, that are only as good as the hands that wield them, and remain completely impartial to anything but the tasks they are set to perform.

Tools don't have to make split-second decisions or think at all to perform their task, because the hand that wields them does it for them.

A new tool is almost always more effective than a older, used tool because of the blunting and wear an old tool carries.

A shinobi is a tool for his or her village to use at their disposal.

No. No, we're not.

We're human.

We have thoughts and feelings and judgments. We're imperfect, with petty grudges and mistakes and faults.

Some of us are more skilled than others, or have completely different sets of skills that may or may not seem important to the tasks we're assigned.

No, we are not tools.

We're people.

We're not tools because we hold grudges and sentiment towards one another, and swear revenge on enemies and fallen comrades and lost battles.

We're not tools because we're expected to think out in the field and come up with strategies and perform tasks without someone else telling us every little detail of what to do.

We're not tools because we make mistakes and we screw up and maybe it's someone else's fault and maybe it's no one's fault but our own.

We're not tools because if we were tools, sitting around doing nothing unless made to and not thinking for ourselves, we wouldn't be of use to our village to begin with.

'Shinobi are tools' - no, I've never agreed with it, but that's because it never made much sense to me.

There was only one time I ever voiced this aloud, though.

As you've more than likely found out by now, there are times in your life when you'll question what it is to be a ninja. I think every ninja probably does at one point or another, though it might be easier pulling their teeth out than getting them to admit it.

Maybe it comes after the death of someone, comrade or enemy. Maybe it comes after a particularly difficult mission. Perhaps it comes after meeting someone, or seeing how someone you used to know has changed.

For me, it came after I found out I was going to be a father.

I had just come back from a mission when Yoshino broke the news.

To clarify, I have absolutely no recollection of the conversation. Yoshino changes my reaction every time she tells the story, and by her word I've done everything from proclaim my undying love for her to sob hysterically.

I'm fairly certain I didn't cry, and I think her story about me fainting is a lie, too.

What I do remember is walking out of the house in a complete daze, wandering around the village for about half an hour, and stopping once to throw up in an alley. (Don't roll your eyes, Inochi hyperventilated when he found out about Ino.)

It took another fifteen minutes or so for me to figure out that I wanted to talk to Choza - who would know what I was going through at the moment, having just gone through with it himself a few months ago. There was only one problem with that, though - he was currently at the hospital, having been injured on the same mission I had been on. In fact, I'd just been to see him before I'd gone home, having been assured that he just needed some time to heal and some sleep.

He'd been pretty alert when I'd left, so I decided to go see him again anyway, hoping that maybe my news would cheer him up a little. When I got there, though, he was fast asleep, snoring away while his wife casually read a book at his bedside.

Now, I know it wasn't anyone's fault he was injured; the enemy had been a lot faster than we had anticipated, and with the way they'd been fighting before, we had no way to know that. But at the time, standing there and seeing him lying there with his pregnant wife keeping watch over him, I felt like worst ninja in the world.

This had been my fault, I'd been team leader. Choza was going to be a father. What if he'd died? What would happen to his child? He or she would grow up without a father, and then what? That child would probably grow up to be a ninja, but who would look out for him? I was going to be father. What if I died, what then? What would Yoshino do? What would my kid do?

I nearly had a panic attack right there in the hospital. I must have looked it, too, because somebody grabbed my arm and carefully guided me to one of the chairs lining the wall. It wasn't until she spoke that I realized who was talking, or that I was even sitting down.

Lady Biwako was the late Lord Third's wife. She was a medical ninja, and had a very...dominating presence. I'm sorry to say she passed not long after you born.

She had her eyebrows raised as she scrutinized me and asked "Better?"

I said the first thing that came to mind, which was "I'm having a baby." (It now occurs to me how that could have been interpreted, but as I obviously wasn't pregnant myself, she figured out what I was trying to convey.)

She frowned, then looked up at the door I'd been standing in front of. "I see," she said softly, a look of understanding crossing her features.

We were both silent for several minutes as she calmly watched me with her arms behind her back, waiting for me to reply.

I'm not sure why I said it, though now I suppose it was her manner, and the knowledge that she was a parent with children, now grown shinobi themselves.

It was the first time I'd ever verbalized my doubts on the topic aloud.

"Are we really just tools?" I finally asked quietly.

I don't know what I expected her to say. Perhaps some words of admonishment, or maybe nothing at all.

What I did not expect is what she said, and for as long as I live I'll never forget it.

"I've never really agreed with that particular line of logic." she snorted. "I've always preferred the one my husband uses. He likens the shinobi of Konoha to family - a large family helping one another. Looking out for one another, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep each other safe. Passing the Will of Fire onto the younger generation."

She shrugged then. "Tools? Tools indeed - no, the shinobi of this village aren't tools. They're the lifeblood. The lifeblood of Konoha. ALL of them, young and old - and perhaps not quite born yet."

She smiled at me when she said the last part, then gave me a matronly pat on the shoulder and walked off, leaving me to my thoughts.

I would like to note that it eased my mind greatly when I found out, over a dozen years later, this woman's son was going to be the one to mentor mine when he became a genin.

I guess now you know where Asuma gets it.

But back to the point of all this: You're a ninja of the Hidden Leaf Village.

I'm not going to go and call you a tool for it to use, because you're not.

You are, however, one of the many shinobi that makes up and breathes life into this village, so I'll expect you to act like one.

So you didn't complete the mission. I'm sorry, you but need to suck it up.

It may sound harsh, but I doubt it will be the first time you screw up. Learn from your mistakes and move on. Remember what I said about doubting yourself?

Remember: there are those that will someday look to you for guidance. A failed mission doesn't mean you aren't cut out to be shinobi.

Because ninja like you are the lifeblood of Konoha, protecting everyone within.

And that's really what being a shinobi is about.

Your Father

AN: I was in a fairly intense mood when I wrote this, so I hope it wasn't too serious. ^_^'

Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think. :)