A shadow's claim

Shikamaru wasn't an emotional person.

He prided himself on his rationality, his ability to look at things from a distance. He never got caught up in troublesome emotions like attachment, jealousy, or possessiveness.

At least, that's what he had always believed.

Until now.

Until Sakura.

And he hated it.

Because now, even as he sat in class, eyes half-lidded and seemingly disinterested, his entire focus was on her.

And the boy sitting beside her.

Daichi again.

Shikamaru had thought he had ended this already. He had made it clear that Sakura wasn't available for distractions.

Yet there Daichi was, leaning slightly in her direction, his expression easy, confident.

Sakura wasn't encouraging him.

But she wasn't pushing him away either.

And that fact burned like a slow, insidious fire in Shikamaru's chest.

---

The Breaking Point

Sakura, of course, had noticed.

She could feel the weight of Shikamaru's gaze, the quiet tension in the air. He wasn't looking at her directly, but his presence loomed at her back like a storm cloud waiting to break.

Perfect.

She allowed herself a slow inhale, keeping her expression neutral as Daichi spoke.

"So, I was thinking," the older boy said, voice light with confidence. "You and I should spar again. You're probably the only one here who can keep up with me."

Shikamaru's fingers twitched against the edge of his desk.

Sakura tilted her head slightly, pretending to consider. She could practically hear the way Shikamaru's breathing had changed. Slower. Deeper.

He was waiting for her answer.

She let the silence stretch.

Then—

"Hm." She hummed, noncommittal. "Maybe."

It was a dismissive answer. Not a yes, but not a rejection either.

And it was enough.

Shikamaru moved.

Not overtly. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.

But suddenly, his chair scraped against the floor just slightly as he leaned forward. His presence wrapped around her like a shadow, dark and heavy.

Daichi blinked, glancing at him. "Uh, Nara? You need something?"

Shikamaru didn't even look at him.

"Sakura."

Her name, spoken low and calm, yet carrying weight. A quiet demand.

She turned her head just enough to meet his gaze.

Dark brown eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unrelenting.

"We're sparring after class," he said simply.

Not a request. A statement.

A claim.

Sakura felt a thrill curl in her spine.

"Oh?" she murmured, tilting her head. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

Shikamaru's eyes never left hers.

"You did."

A single breath of silence stretched between them.

Then, without another word, Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking lazily toward Daichi.

"You should find someone else to bother."

The dismissal was absolute.

Daichi frowned but didn't argue. There was something in Shikamaru's expression—something dark, dangerous, that made it clear this wasn't up for debate.

Daichi muttered something under his breath and turned away.

Sakura, meanwhile, suppressed a smirk.

Perfect.

---

The Edge of Control

The training grounds were empty by the time they arrived.

Shikamaru had barely spoken on the way there, his usual laziness replaced with something taut, simmering just beneath the surface.

Sakura stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders as she faced him.

"So," she said, amusement lacing her tone. "What exactly are we sparring for, Nara?"

Shikamaru's gaze was unreadable.

"Because I said so."

She arched a brow. "Bossy, aren't we?"

No response.

He moved.

Faster than usual, no warning.

Sakura barely had time to react before he was in her space, shadow stretching, body shifting with the efficiency of a strategist who had already planned three moves ahead.

But she wasn't caught off guard.

She thrived on this.

She countered his attack smoothly, fluidly, forcing him back. Their dance was sharper than usual, more precise. Every movement was intentional.

Shikamaru was testing her.

No.

He was challenging her.

And she loved it.

Their battle stretched longer than it should have. Normally, Shikamaru fought with minimal effort, dragging out time until he could trap his opponent in a checkmate.

But today?

Today, he wasn't holding back.

For the first time, he was fighting her with the intent to win.

The moment she realized it, a thrill shot through her veins.

She allowed herself a small grin, twisting out of the way of his shadow at the last second. "Aggressive today, aren't we?"

Shikamaru didn't answer.

He was focused.

Sakura pushed harder. Faster. Testing him the same way he was testing her.

And then—

He caught her wrist.

Not with his jutsu. Not with some clever trick.

But with sheer, physical force.

She stilled.

His grip was firm, fingers curled around her wrist just tight enough to make her aware of his strength.

Sakura lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes head-on.

Dark. Intense.

Possessive.

A slow smirk curved her lips.

"Well," she murmured, voice low. "Aren't you full of surprises?"

Shikamaru didn't let go.

Didn't move.

His breathing was even, but she could feel the tension coiling beneath his skin.

He was fighting something.

Something he didn't want to name yet.

Sakura tilted her head, stepping closer deliberately. Their bodies were a breath apart now, her wrist still captured in his grip.

She felt his fingers flex. Just slightly.

"Careful, Nara," she whispered, voice barely audible. "Someone might think you're jealous."

The words were a spark in dry kindling.

Shikamaru exhaled, slow and deliberate, before releasing her wrist.

His expression was unreadable.

But she had felt it.

The hesitation. The temptation.

He turned away.

"We're done here."

Sakura watched as he walked off, hands in his pockets.

But she noticed the way his posture was tense. The way his steps weren't as lazy as usual.

He was running.

Not from her.

But from what she was making him feel.

She smiled.

Good.

Let him fight it.

Let him struggle.

Because the longer he resisted—

The harder he would fall.

And by the time he realized it?

He wouldn't be able to escape.