Twilight was slowly settling over Crystal Island. The sky, earlier tinged with orange and pink, now deepened into a rich violet, almost matching Elian's hair and eyes. The air was still warm, carrying the salty scent of the nearby sea and the resin of the pines lining the small grove.
Elian stood still in front of the tree, his gaze fixed on the kunai protruding from the trunk, slightly tilted but clearly embedded by the blade. His heart was still pounding, a mix of exertion and simple joy. Sweat stuck his light shirt to his skin, and his arms trembled slightly after all those repeated attempts. Yet, he smiled.
Shikamaru, leaning against the same tree since the beginning of the session, observed the result in silence. His half-closed eyes betrayed almost nothing, but the very slight raising of his eyebrow was already a form of approval from him.
"…Not bad," he finally murmured, in a dragging voice, almost too low to carry. "For a first day, it's… acceptable."
Elian turned toward him, his smile widening despite his fatigue.
"Acceptable? I hit with the blade! It wasn't perfect, but… it went into the wood."
Shikamaru let out a long sigh, his hands still buried in his pockets. He slowly straightened, as if even this simple movement cost him energy.
"You still aim like you're throwing a stone at a bird in flight. Your wrist snaps at the last moment, and your shoulder rises too high. But… yes. The blade hit. It's a start. A very small start."
He approached the tree, removed the kunai with a calm, precise motion, then twirled it once between his fingers before handing it to Elian.
"Keep it in your hand. Feel its weight. It's not a blind throwing weapon. It's an extension of you. Tomorrow, we'll work on rotation. If you can make the kunai spin correctly, it will fly straighter, even with poor aim."
Elian took the weapon, gripping it a little too tightly at first, then tried to relax his fingers as Shikamaru had shown him earlier. The metal was still warm from being embedded in the wood.
Around them, the grove darkened. Leaves rustled softly in a gentle breeze from the sea. In the distance, the barely audible sound of waves breaking against the coastal rocks could be heard, and occasionally the distant cry of a seagull returning to its nest.
Shikamaru looked up at the darkening sky.
"We'll stop here for today. It's almost night, and you're already exhausted. Pushing now wouldn't help. The chakra you felt earlier… it's still tiny. If you expend it too quickly, you'll just drain yourself and make yourself sick."
Elian nodded, even though a part of him wanted to continue. He stored the kunai in the small leather pouch hanging from his belt. The weight of the five kunai and shuriken already felt more familiar than it had at the start of the day.
They walked back toward the house in silence. Shikamaru walked ahead, shoulders relaxed, steps slow and measured. Elian followed a meter behind, observing the young ninja's back. Despite his nonchalant attitude, Shikamaru radiated something reassuring. A calm presence, almost heavy, as if nothing could truly surprise him.
Arriving at the small wooden house, Elian pushed open the door. Inside, it was dark; only the faint glow of twilight entered through the single window. He lit an oil lamp on the table, and a warm, flickering light filled the modest room.
"Do you… want something to eat?" Elian asked hesitantly. "I don't have much, but there's some dried fish and bread from this morning. And fresh water."
Shikamaru sat on one of the two chairs without waiting for the invitation, arms crossed on the table. He looked around: the bare walls, the narrow bed in the corner, the small shelf holding a few everyday objects.
"…I'll be fine," he replied simply. "I'm not very hungry. But I'll take water."
Elian filled two clay cups and placed one in front of Shikamaru. He sat across from him, his violet eyes still bright with the excitement of the day, even though fatigue was beginning to set in.
A long silence settled, broken only by the soft crackling of the lamp's wick.
Shikamaru took a sip, then set the cup down.
"This world… East Blue," he finally said, in a low, thoughtful voice. "It's really calm. No chakra in the air, no perceptible hostile presence. No barriers, no sentinels. Just… fishermen and the sea."
He turned his head toward the window, as if he could see beyond the darkness.
"In my world, even a village like this would have walls, lookouts, and at least one or two genin on patrol. Here… nothing. It's almost too peaceful. It makes me wary."
Elian followed his gaze, then looked back at him.
"Is that why you agreed to train me? Because you think it won't stay calm for long?"
Shikamaru shrugged slightly.
"Partly. But mostly because if you get killed by some idiot with a rusty knife just because you don't even know how to hold a kunai properly… that would be really stupid. And I hate stupid variables."
A very slight smile brushed his lips, almost invisible in the dim light.
"And… you're not completely useless. You listen. You don't complain. You even managed to move a bit of your chakra on your first try. Most kids would take several days just to feel it."
Elian lowered his gaze to his hands, a little embarrassed by the indirect compliment.
"Thanks… I know I'm slow. But I really want to learn. Not just to defend myself. To… be able to leave one day. See what's beyond the horizon."
Shikamaru watched him in silence for a moment. The lamp's glow made violet highlights dance in Elian's hair.
"The horizon, huh…" he murmured. "It's often farther than you think. And sometimes, when you reach it, you realize there's another one just beyond it."
He finished his water and stood up slowly.
"Tomorrow morning, just after sunrise. Same place. We'll resume throwing practice, then work a bit more on chakra. Try to sleep well. If you're tired, you won't feel anything."
Elian nodded.
"Okay. Good night, Shikamaru."
The young Nara headed for the door, then paused for a moment on the threshold. He cast one last glance over his shoulder.
"…Good night, kid."
He left silently, closing the door behind him.
Elian remained alone in the small room lit by the lamp. He heard Shikamaru's footsteps fade softly toward the grove, likely to find a quiet spot to spend the night.
He lay on his narrow bed, eyes open in the darkness. For the first time in a long while, the horizon didn't feel so far away. He could still feel that little warmth, that tiny ember of chakra in his chest. It was there. Real.
Outside, night had fully fallen over Crystal Island. The sea whispered against the rocks, calm and steady. And somewhere in the darkness, a young ninja from another world was watching the stars, hands in his pockets, wondering how long this peace would last.
***
The sun was just rising above the sea, tinting the horizon a soft, pale pink. Crystal Island was waking slowly, as it did every morning: the distant sound of nets being folded, the creaking of wooden hulls against the small dock, the muffled voices of fishermen greeting each other.
Elian was already up. He hadn't slept well, but not because of fatigue. The small warmth in his chest—this still tiny chakra—had kept him awake for part of the night. He felt it stir slightly when he focused, like a glowing ember you breathe on gently. That morning, he had eaten a piece of dry bread and drunk some fresh water before stepping outside.
Shikamaru was already waiting in the small grove behind the house. Leaning against the same tree as the day before, hands in his pockets, he stared at the sky without really seeing it. His hair, tied into two buns, looked barely tousled by the night spent under the stars.
"You're early," Shikamaru remarked in a drawling voice, without turning his head.
Elian gave a slight smile as he approached, the small leather pouch bumping against his hip.
"I couldn't sleep anymore. I tried to feel the chakra a bit… it's still there. More stable than yesterday, I think."
Shikamaru let out an almost inaudible sigh.
"Good. Let's start with that, then. Sit down. Breathe slowly. Don't force it."
They resumed training where they had left off. Kunai throws came afterward, more methodical this time. Elian would throw, retrieve, and listen to Shikamaru's minimal corrections. The young Nara spoke little, but each remark was precise: wrist position, shoulder rotation, the way to let chakra brush along the arm to stabilize the motion. Elian still missed most of the time, but now one in five throws hit the trunk, even if far from the center.
The sun climbed slowly. The warmth grew stronger, but a sea breeze kept the air bearable. Around them, birds sang, and the rustling of leaves seemed to pace their efforts.
By mid-morning, something changed.
An unusual sound came from the village, carried by the wind: distant cries, not the cheerful calls of the fishermen, but higher-pitched, panicked voices. Then silence fell again, too sudden.
Shikamaru straightened slightly, his eyes half-closed. He turned his head toward the direction of the harbor.
"…Trouble," he murmured simply.
Elian frowned, still out of breath from his last throw.
"Trouble? Here? Maybe it's just a quarrel over today's catch…"
But Shikamaru didn't answer right away. He listened. His lazy demeanor remained on the surface; beneath, his attention had sharpened.
A few minutes passed in relative calm. Then they heard hurried footsteps on the path running along the house. A young fisherman from the village, barely older than Elian, appeared running, his face pale and sweaty.
"Elian!" he panted, stopping abruptly at the edge of the grove. His eyes flicked over Shikamaru with brief surprise, but he had no time for questions. "Pirates… A small ship just docked. There are about ten of them, maybe more. They say they want to 'help protect' the island. They're already taking the dried fish and water supplies. Old Marin tried to protest… they hit him."
Elian felt his stomach tighten. Crystal Island had never faced a real threat. Drunken sailors passing through, yes. But organized pirates?
"They… they're asking for money? Supplies?"
The fisherman nodded, still out of breath.
"Everything we have. Their captain is a big guy with a scar on his cheek and a rusty sword at his waist. He laughs loudly, but his men look nervous. They say if we cooperate, they'll leave quickly. Otherwise…"
He didn't finish the sentence. The look he gave Elian was clear: no one here was prepared to resist.
Shikamaru hadn't moved. He was watching the village in the distance, hands still in his pockets. His voice remained calm, almost detached.
"East Blue… Even here, rats come out when they smell weakness. Ten men, a small boat. Not a big fleet. But enough to trash an unprotected village."
Elian swallowed hard. His hand instinctively went to the pocket holding the kunai. The cold metal under his fingers suddenly reminded him how much of a beginner he still was.
"What do we do?" he asked, his voice lower than he intended.
Shikamaru shrugged slightly.
"Observe first. Running in blindly would be stupid. But if these guys decide to go through the houses…"
He left the sentence hanging. Then the wind carried a new sound: boisterous laughter, shouted orders, and the distinct thud of heavy boots on wooden planks. The pirates were moving. They were heading toward the village, probably to "visit" the more distant homes.
The young fisherman took a step back, visibly terrified.
"I… I'll warn the others. Hide, or… do something."
He ran off.
The grove became silent again, but it was no longer the same calm. The air felt heavier. Elian felt his heart pounding faster. The small flame of chakra in his chest pulsed, as if reacting to his nervousness.
Shikamaru finally turned to him. His expression was still nonchalant, but his eyes were sharper.
"Breathe. Panicking won't help. These guys are probably just small-time thugs looking for easy prey. But if one of them notices you… you, the kid with violet hair and the pretty face wandering near the isolated house… they might find that interesting."
Elian clenched his fists. He thought of his nearby home, the few belongings he had, the horizon he still dreamed of reaching. For the first time, that dream felt fragile.
In the distance, the pirates' voices grew closer. Words could now be distinguished: crude jokes, half-serious threats, and the clinking of poorly maintained weapons. A group of three or four silhouettes appeared at the end of the path, walking casually toward the houses along the edge, including Elian's.
Shikamaru didn't move, but his stance changed imperceptibly. He drew a hand from his pocket, as if readying himself.
Elian felt sweat run down his back. The pirates were advancing. The tallest among them, the one with the scar, laughed, pointing at the small wooden house.
They were still about twenty meters away.
Elian placed his hand on the kunai in his pocket. His throat was dry.
The threat was here, tangible, and coming straight at them.