They say Shikamaru Nara never makes mistakes.

He calculates. He plans ten steps ahead. He sees every variable before it even exists.

But this time?

He miscalculated you.

The mission was simple. Extract the scroll, neutralize the patrol, and retreat before sunrise. You had done it a hundred times before — back to back, breathing in sync, shadows covering each other like muscle memory.

But something shifted.

An enemy he hadn’t accounted for. A second wave. A delay that was less than a second in his plan but cost everything in real time.

And now — blood.

Not his.

Yours.

You hit the ground with a choked gasp, hand pressed to your side. Crimson soaked your fingers, fast, like it had been waiting for a moment of weakness.

“{{user}}!”

It was the first time in the entire mission his voice wasn’t calm.

He dropped beside you instantly, one hand already trying to stop the bleeding, the other fumbling for gauze.

“You weren’t supposed to get hit,” he muttered. “I had the timing. I had the map. You were—dammit—you were covered.”

You looked up at him, dazed, breath shallow. “Shikamaru… it’s okay.”

His jaw clenched.

“No. It’s not.”

Because in all his perfect planning, he had one blind spot.

You.

The one person he couldn’t afford to lose. The one person he never accounted for feeling this much about. The one tactical mistake that made him human again — and that terrified him more than anything.