The afternoon light filtered through the leaves of the small grove, casting long, soft shadows across the ground. A light sea breeze had picked up, carrying with it the distant sounds of the village: rough laughter, the heavy thud of boots on dirt paths, and occasionally a crudely shouted order.
Elian stood motionless at the edge of the trees, his violet eyes fixed on the group advancing toward his house. There were four of them now, clearly visible, walking without haste. Their leader—a tall, broad-shouldered man with an uneven scar running across his left cheek—wore a faded red coat that had seen better days. A rusted cutlass hung at his waist, swaying with each careless step. His three companions looked like typical East Blue thugs: one carried a worn pistol, another dragged along a sack already half-filled with loot, and the last chewed noisily on a piece of dried fish.
They moved as if they owned the island. No rush. No real caution. Just the quiet confidence of men who had done this many times before on calm, defenseless shores.
Shikamaru remained leaning against the tree trunk, his hands still tucked into his pockets. His expression was as lazy as ever, but there was now a quiet assurance in his posture. His half-lidded eyes observed the scene with calm clarity, as if he had already calculated everything and nothing happening could truly surprise him.
"Four in front," he murmured in a low, drawn-out voice, almost detached. "A pathetic crew. Weak. The kind that thinks everything is owed to them just because they've got a sword and a rotten boat. Nothing too dangerous… for someone who knows how to defend themselves."
Elian's fingers tightened around the kunai hidden in his pocket. The metal felt cold against his palm, a sharp contrast to the nervous warmth spreading through his chest—that tiny spark of chakra reacting to his growing tension. He could feel his heart beating faster. The dream of the horizon suddenly felt fragile.
"What do we do?" he whispered, his voice slightly trembling.
Shikamaru let out a long sigh, but it wasn't a sigh of worry. It was the sigh of someone looking at a simple situation and already deciding the best way to handle it.
"We don't do anything… for now," he replied calmly, a hint of almost amused confidence in his tone. "These guys are amateurs. They make noise to give themselves courage. If I wanted, I could neutralize them in seconds without even moving much. But that wouldn't be useful for you."
He turned his head slightly toward Elian, his half-lidded eyes sharpening.
"This is your island. Your first enemies. Your first real steps outside the grove. If I handle everything for you today, you'll always stay the kid who needs to be saved. And that… would be really too troublesome in the long run."
Elian swallowed, his throat dry. Ahead of them, the scarred captain kicked the door of the house open. The sound of wood slamming against the wall echoed through the clearing. One of the pirates burst into loud laughter and disappeared inside, while another was already rummaging through the lean-to.
Shikamaru continued, just as calm:
"Watch them. They're slow, noisy, confident because they've never met real resistance. You've already felt your chakra. You managed to stick a kunai into a tree today. It's not much… but it's a start. I'll guide you. I'll tell you when to throw, how to breathe, where to aim. But you'll be the one acting."
The scarred man stepped back out of the house, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He scanned the surroundings and shouted in a booming voice:
"Hey! Anyone hiding around here? Come out and make yourselves useful. We're collecting 'protection fees' today. Cooperate and no one gets hurt. Well… not too much."
His men snickered. One of them tossed a stone toward the bushes near the house.
Shikamaru didn't move an inch. His tone remained calm and steady:
"Breathe slowly. Feel that little warmth in your chest. Don't force it—let it flow gently into your arm. When they get closer, pick your target. The nearest one, the one without a firearm. A clean throw, with rotation. I'll correct you afterward. But for now… you observe. You learn not to panic in the face of danger. That's the first lesson that really matters."
Elian nodded slowly, even as his pulse quickened. The sea breeze now carried the smell of cheap tobacco from the cigar the captain had just lit. The pirates continued their slow advance toward the grove. The scarred man gestured to his crew, and they moved more directly toward the trees.
They were no more than fifteen meters away.
Shikamaru remained perfectly still, hands in his pockets, as if he were watching a simple training exercise rather than a real threat. His low, confident voice continued:
"They don't expect a thirteen-year-old kid to fight back. That's your advantage. Use it. I'm here, but I won't step in unless you're truly in danger. Show me what you can do with what you've learned today."
The wind moved softly through the leaves. The pirates' footsteps crunched along the stony path. Elian could feel the small flame of chakra pulsing stronger in his chest, as if it were waiting for his signal.
The four men were getting closer. The scarred captain narrowed his eyes, scanning the shadows of the trees. It was clear he had sensed something.
The tension settled, heavy and silent, over the small grove of Crystal Island.
The pirates were now only ten meters away.
The pirates were now only about ten meters away.
The scarred captain came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the grove, one hand resting on the hilt of his rusted saber. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the shadows between the trees. Smoke from his cigar curled lazily into the warm afternoon air.
"I saw something move in there," he growled in a thick voice. "Looks like two kids. Get out here, you little brats. We don't have all day."
His three companions stopped behind him, more cautious now. The one with the pistol cocked the hammer with a sharp click that echoed through the sudden silence of the grove. Another—the one dragging the sack—set it down and pulled out a long, serrated knife.
Elian felt his breath catch in his throat. His legs were heavy, as if rooted to the ground. The small ember of chakra in his chest pulsed stronger, almost painfully, responding to the fear rising inside him. He had never been looked at like prey. Never heard someone speak about him with that mix of contempt and greed.
Shikamaru, meanwhile, didn't move an inch. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, his back still against the trunk. Only his voice, low and steady, broke the silence among the trees.
"Breathe, Elian. Slowly. Through your nose. Don't block your chakra. Let it flow to your shoulder and your wrist. You don't need to be perfect. You just need to take the first step."
The captain took another step under the trees. Leaves crunched beneath his boots.
"What, are you deaf? I told you to come out! If you've got money or valuables, they belong to us now. And if you're cute… we might even find you a place on the ship."
A crude laugh rippled through his men.
Elian clenched his teeth. His fingers trembled slightly around the kunai he had finally pulled from his pocket. The metal was cold, real. He thought of all the times he had thrown at the tree that morning. One out of five. Sometimes with the blade. It wasn't much. But it was all he had.
Shikamaru kept speaking, calm, almost instructional, without a trace of urgency in his tone:
"The tall one with the scar. He's the slowest. He thinks his size protects him. Aim for the right shoulder—the one holding the saber. No need to kill. Just make him step back. A rotating throw. Remember: follow through with your wrist. And channel a bit of chakra into your arm to stabilize. You can do it."
The scarred man stepped forward again. He was now clearly visible between the trunks, less than eight meters away. His eyes locked directly onto Elian. A cruel smile stretched across his scar.
"Well now… a pretty little one with violet hair. You're too good-looking to stay on this rotten island, kid. Come here. We'll show you the real world."
Elian felt a surge of anger mix with his fear. Something warm and resolute rose along his spine. The small flame of chakra reacted, extending slightly toward his right shoulder just as Shikamaru had instructed.
Shikamaru watched without intervening, a faint, almost imperceptible smile at the corner of his lips.
"Good. You feel the difference? That's your chakra responding to your will. Don't waste it in panic. Focus it. Aim. And when you're ready… throw. I'm right here. I won't move until you've tried. This is your first battle, Elian. Show me what you're worth."
The captain gestured impatiently to his men.
"Go on, grab them. The violet one's mine."
Two pirates started advancing between the trees, pushing aside low branches. The pistol was loosely aimed in their direction. The air felt thicker now, heavy with the smell of tobacco, sweat, and sea salt.
Elian slowly raised his arm, the kunai clenched in his hand. His wrist still trembled slightly, but the warmth in his shoulder was becoming steadier. He aimed at the captain's shoulder, just as Shikamaru had advised. His heart pounded, but for the first time, he wasn't thinking only about running.
He took a deep breath, feeling the chakra follow the rhythm of his breathing.
Shikamaru remained perfectly still, confident, his half-lidded eyes watching, waiting for his student's first move.
The wind continued to move softly through the leaves, as if carrying the promise of what was to come.
The pirates were now only six meters away.