Shikamaru was losing control.
Not all at once. Not in some dramatic, reckless way.
It was slow. Insidious. Like a trap he had never seen coming—one he had unknowingly walked into.
And Sakura?
She was winning.
He had always prided himself on predicting movements before they happened, on knowing the outcome before a game even began. Yet somehow, she had slipped past his defenses.
Now, whenever he saw her—whenever someone else dared to stand too close—his instincts roared.
And today?
Today, he was done pretending.
---
A Game of Power
Lunch break. The academy courtyard buzzed with life, students scattered across the field, eating, training, chatting.
Shikamaru sat beneath his usual tree, half-lidded eyes feigning indifference.
But he wasn't indifferent.
Because Daichi was back.
Again.
Standing too close, speaking too easily, smiling too much. And worst of all—
Sakura was letting him.
Shikamaru watched, jaw tight, as she tilted her head just slightly, lips curving into that faint, teasing smile she used so often on him.
Something inside him snapped.
He didn't think. Didn't plan.
He moved.
One moment, Daichi was speaking. The next, Shikamaru was there, stepping into the space between them, his back to Daichi, his body angled toward Sakura in a way that was unmistakable.
Sakura blinked up at him, amusement flickering in her gaze.
"Oh?" she murmured, voice silk-smooth. "Something wrong, Nara?"
He ignored her.
His focus shifted to Daichi instead. His voice came quiet. Flat. Final.
"Leave."
Daichi frowned. "What the hell is your problem?"
Shikamaru's face remained neutral, his hands still shoved in his pockets. But his eyes—dark, unrelenting—held something sharp.
Something dangerous.
"Now," he said.
Silence.
Then, after a beat, Daichi scoffed under his breath and turned away.
Smart choice.
As Daichi disappeared into the crowd, Sakura exhaled slowly, tilting her head as she studied him.
"My, my," she purred. "How possessive of you."
Shikamaru didn't move.
Didn't speak.
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his focus—never wavered from hers.
Sakura took a step forward. Deliberate. Measured.
Testing him.
She lifted a hand, her fingertips grazing the fabric of his sleeve. Light. Teasing.
"I didn't realize you cared so much," she mused.
His fingers twitched.
Her lips curved.
Good.
She had him.
---
A Lesson in Control
Shikamaru didn't answer. Not right away.
Then—slowly—he shifted.
Not much. Just a single step closer. A slight angle to his posture.
But suddenly, the air between them felt thicker.
"I don't," he said at last, voice low. Steady.
"But I don't like sharing what's mine."
Silence.
Sakura's breath hitched.
Not in shock.
Not in surprise.
But in pure, delighted satisfaction.
She had pushed.
And now, finally, he was pushing back.
She could feel it in the tautness of his stance, in the way his shadow stretched toward hers, curling like a predator testing its prey.
He hadn't fallen completely.
Not yet.
But he was dangling over the edge.
And next time?
She would make sure he drowned.