"The fourth match is between Nara Shikamaru and Hoshigaki Kisame!"
"Next contestant, please come to the stage!"
The announcement echoed from the loudspeakers. In the preparation room, Nara Shikamaru slowly sat up from the couch. He blinked lazily, rubbed the back of his neck, stretched a little, glanced up at the ceiling, and then placed both hands behind his head. With a reluctant sigh, he began his slow walk down the passage to the arena.
Hoshigaki Kisame, Shikamaru's opponent, had already been waiting by the arena entrance even before the previous match—between Sasuke and Samui—had ended. He had been itching for his turn to fight.
Now, both contestants had made it to the field early.
Gekkō, acting as the proctor, tapped the microphone again with a hint of helplessness in his voice.
"Contestant Nara Shikamaru, please don't doze off. It's your turn to fight."
"Kindly come to the stage immediately."
Right on cue, Shikamaru's laid-back figure emerged from the corridor.
Shikamaru looked up at the stands.
Great… so many people watching. All eyes on me for this fight?
What a drag. I just want to go home and take a nap… Can I surrender right away, per tournament rules?
Then, his gaze shifted to the front-row seating reserved for family members.
Wait… why is Mom here?
Nara Yoshino was standing up, waving enthusiastically at her son.
Though the crowd was noisy, Shikamaru could clearly see the movements of her lips.
She was smiling gently—but there was something terrifying behind that smile.
"You know what I mean."
"If you dare to surrender, you're dead when you get home."
Shikamaru froze.
Ah. Crap.
His shoulders slumped as if the weight of fate itself had landed on them. With a sigh of resignation, he trudged toward Kisame and Gekkō Hayate.
Looking at Shikamaru's utterly lifeless expression, Hayate muted the mic and asked in a lowered voice, clearly concerned.
"Shikamaru, are you okay? If you're feeling unwell, you can forfeit."
Shikamaru gave a weak chuckle and waved dismissively, his face bleak as death.
"I'm fine. Proceed as planned."
"I just remembered something unpleasant."
Hayate scratched his head, still unsure if he understood—but decided to move on.
"Alright then."
He reactivated the mic and had both combatants form the standard fighting seal before stepping back.
Kisame eyed Shikamaru's expression and assumed the kid was scared of him.
And understandably so. Over the years, his tall, shark-faced figure had frightened more than a few Genin into tears.
"Hey… don't be scared by my face. I swear I'm actually a nice guy."
Kisame tried smiling, but on his face it only looked more deranged—like a predatory grin gone mad.
Shikamaru gave a strained smile back.
"Thank you for the concern, Senior. I've heard of your name. I'm like this because of something my mother said."
"It's fine. Let's begin."
Kisame lowered his battle seal and took a few steps back.
This kid's really using his mom as an excuse to cover up his nerves, huh?
Well, if he's scared, maybe I should go easy on him. Help him get off the field without trauma.
Gekkō fired the signal gun.
"Bang!"
Shikamaru pressed his hands together, forming the familiar Nara clan hand sign. His tone was still lazy, but slightly louder now thanks to the chakra beginning to circulate.
"Shadow Imitation Technique."
His shadow extended forward like a sentient being, slithering out from beneath his feet into a long, thin line, racing toward Kisame.
Kisame's eyes narrowed.
So that's the Nara clan's famous shadow jutsu. Better not take him lightly.
As a seasoned shinobi, Kisame had studied the strengths of various Konoha clans—especially the Ino-Shika-Chō trio, the Inuzuka clan, and the Aburame. He knew their unique styles well.
The shadow inched closer to his feet, and Kisame kept backing up slowly.
Then, the shadow line straightened suddenly, halting just inches away from him.
Kisame immediately swung his massive blade, Samehada, dragging it into the ground and carving a deep trench.
"Hmph. Looks like your range is around fifty meters."
Shikamaru clicked his tongue, withdrawing the shadow.
"Thought so. I was hoping to wrap this up fast."
He plopped down cross-legged, hands forming a circle on his knees, his fingers touching at the tips. Then, he did nothing.
Kisame stared at him in confusion.
Is he… thinking? Strategizing?
Back in the day, I'd have just blasted him with Water Style: Water Shark Bomb and walked off.
But this was Konoha—and it wouldn't hurt to earn some favor with Nara Shikaku, the Jonin Commander. After following Uchiha Hikaru's lead for so long, Kisame had learned the political ropes well enough.
Sometimes, diplomacy was more dangerous than any jutsu.
So, Kisame just stood there, pretending to be tense, playing along as if this was some fierce mental battle.
Minutes passed. One minute. Two.
The crowd began to grumble.
"What the hell?! Is this a joke?"
"I paid good money to come to Konoha! Is this kid seriously napping on the battlefield?"
"Is he even awake?"
Boos started echoing throughout the arena.
But in the front row, Nara Yoshino had already anticipated this. She pulled out a megaphone from her cloak, shocking even her husband Shikaku.
"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!"
"That's my son out there! You got a problem with that?! You can leave!"
"Nobody forced you to come watch!"
Even through the noise, Shikamaru clearly heard his mother's voice from across the arena.
Still yelling like that even now, huh… Mom never changes.
He cracked a grin mid-thought.
After that thunderous maternal outburst, most of the audience fell silent—some out of guilt, others out of sheer respect for that kind of fierce parental love.
And more than a few people found themselves… a little envious.
Shikamaru, still sitting calmly on the field, took a deep breath.
Now that he had the crowd off his back and Kisame off guard, his real strategy could begin.