Chapter 4: The Shadow's Gambit

**Chapter 4: The Shadow's Gambit**

The night was alive with a serene, almost otherworldly beauty. The full moon hung high in the sky, its silver light spilling over the Nara estate, casting long, intricate shadows across the grassy fields. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Crickets chirped in the distance, their rhythmic song blending with the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. The world seemed peaceful, untouched—until the sound of splintering wood and crashing debris shattered the stillness.

Inside Shikamaru's room, chaos reigned. The once-tidy space was now a wreckage of broken furniture and shattered wood. The samurai stood in the center of the room, his black armor gleaming under the moonlight that streamed through the gaping hole in the wall. His glowing red eyes locked onto Shikamaru, who was crouched low, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The samurai's katana, still unsheathed, shimmered with an ominous aura, the blade humming faintly as if alive.

Shikamaru's mind raced, his usual laziness replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. *This guy's not playing around,* he thought, his dark eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. *He's faster, stronger, and that sword… it's not just a weapon. It's an extension of his will. I can't win in a straight fight. I need to outthink him.*

The samurai took a step forward, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew Shikamaru had nowhere to run. Shikamaru's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything he could use to his advantage. His shadow stretched long across the floor, distorted by the moonlight streaming through the broken wall.

Suddenly, the samurai raised his sword, the blade glowing faintly as a swirling aura of wind began to form around it. Shikamaru's eyes widened. *That's not good.*

With a swift, fluid motion, the samurai swung the blade horizontally. A crescent-shaped wave of cutting wind erupted from the sword, slicing through the air with a deafening roar. Shikamaru dropped to the ground just in time, the wave passing inches above his head. The force of the attack tore through the room, shredding the wooden walls and sending debris flying in all directions. The ceiling groaned ominously, and with a loud crack, it began to collapse.

From elsewhere in the house, Shikamaru's family stirred, awakened by the noise. Yoshino's voice rang out, sharp and alarmed. "What is that lazy boy doing in his room?!"

Shikamaru barely had time to process her words before the samurai was on him again. The armored figure closed the distance in an instant, delivering a powerful kick to Shikamaru's midsection. The force of the blow sent him flying backward, his body crashing through the already damaged wall and landing hard on the grassy ground outside.

The moonlight bathed the scene in an eerie glow as Shikamaru groaned, clutching his stomach. His uniform was torn, and his body ached from the impact. He pushed himself to his feet, his expression a mix of pain and frustration. For the first time in a long while, his usual calm demeanor cracked, replaced by a flicker of anger.

"What kind of penalty is this?!" he shouted, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The samurai emerged from the wreckage of the room, his red eyes glowing brighter as he stepped into the moonlight. He moved with a predatory grace, his sword raised and ready. Shikamaru's mind raced again. *I can't beat him head-on. I need to use my Quirk. But how?*

As the samurai charged, Shikamaru's shadow stretched across the grass, elongated by the full moon's light. With a sharp intake of breath, he focused his energy, and his shadow sprang to life, darting across the ground toward the samurai. It connected with the shadow cast by the armored figure, and instantly, the samurai froze in place, his body locked in mid-motion.

Shikamaru exhaled, his chest heaving. *Lucky the moon's full tonight,* he thought, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. *But what now? I can't hold him forever. I need a plan.*

For a few tense moments, the samurai remained immobilized, his glowing eyes fixed on Shikamaru. But then, something unexpected happened. The blade of the samurai's sword began to shimmer, and flames erupted along its edge, burning with an intense, otherworldly heat. Shikamaru's eyes widened as he felt the weight of the samurai's will pressing against his own.

*He's fighting back,* Shikamaru realized, his heart pounding. *Even immobilized, his determination is overwhelming. I can't keep this up.*

Just as the strain became unbearable, a second shadow darted across the ground, moving with unnatural speed. It wasn't Shikamaru's shadow—it was someone else's. The shadow shot forward like a spear, piercing the samurai's chest with pinpoint precision. The armored figure let out a guttural roar, his body convulsing as the shadow tore through him.

Shikamaru stared in shock, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. The samurai's form began to dissolve, his body breaking apart into fragments of light that scattered into the night air. Within seconds, he was gone, as if he had never existed.

A familiar voice broke the silence. "Planning to spend your life on the defensive? You'd have died if I hadn't stepped in."

Shikamaru turned to see his father, Shikaku, standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and his expression calm but serious. The older man's shadow slowly retracted, returning to its natural state.

Shikamaru's shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, weary sigh. "Thanks," he muttered, though his tone was more annoyed than grateful.

Shikaku stepped closer, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the room and the scorched grass where the samurai had stood. "So," he said, his voice low and measured, "who was our friend?"

Shikamaru didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the holographic screen that had reappeared before him.

**[ENEMY ELIMINATED.]

[PHYSICAL, MENTAL, AND QUIRK ABILITIES UPGRADED TO LEVEL 2.]**

He dismissed the screen with a flick of his hand, his expression unreadable. "Just another troublesome thing," he said finally, his voice quiet.

Shikaku studied his son for a moment, then nodded. "Well, whatever it was, it's gone now. But don't think this is over. You've got a lot to explain."

Shikamaru didn't respond. He simply turned his gaze back to the moonlit sky, his mind already racing with questions—and a growing sense of unease. The night was quiet once more, but the shadows around him seemed darker, deeper, and far more dangerous than before.

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