Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

As you walk down the stairs, the wooden staircase creaks slightly.

Sakura Haruno came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of congee. When she saw you, a bright smile immediately appeared on her face. "Nagi, you're awake? Perfect timing. Eat something to warm your stomach. Congee is the most comforting thing after drinking."

You silently took the warm bowl of porridge and began to drink it in small sips.

The warmth of the rice porridge slid down my esophagus, effectively relieving my stomach discomfort and the chill in my body.

“Um… Nagi,” Sakura looked at you, her tone curious, “Mom said that a boy brought you home yesterday, but it was too dark for her to see his face clearly. He just walked you to the door and left. Do you know who it was?”

Your hand holding the spoon paused slightly. The last blurry image that lingered in your mind seemed to be Nara Shikamaru patting your shoulder and his soft chuckle.

But this is uncertain; you don't like to jump to conclusions about uncertain things.

You shook your head. "I'm not sure."

"Is that so?" Sakura blinked, seemingly a little disappointed, but quickly cheered up and remembered the important matter.

"By the way, Nagi, you really have to write your weekly journal entry this time! He'll be grading everyone's next week, so you can't just hand in a blank paper or scribble a few words like before." As the class's top student and class representative, Sakura dutifully reminded her.

"Hmm." You did have a plan to write one, but never mind, you should ask your deskmate about the specific requirements for the weekly journal before deciding what to write or whether to write it at all.

A while later, the doorbell rang at the Nara residence.

They had just finished lunch, and the aroma of the food still lingered in the air.

Shikamaru was sprawled out on the tatami mat in the living room, staring at the ceiling and pondering philosophical questions like why the clouds were so white today.

Nara Shikaku glanced at his wife Yoshino, who was sitting upright beside him, and then at his son, who was sitting rudely. He sighed helplessly, resignedly stood up, and usually it was his job to open the door.

He walked to the entrance, opened the door, and when he saw the girl standing outside, Lu Jiu was stunned for a moment, even wondering if he was hallucinating.

"You... came to see Shikamaru?" Shikaku asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You nodded.

Shikaku coughed twice to suppress his surprise, then turned and called out loudly into the house, "Shikamaru! A classmate is here to see you!"

His voice carried a mischievous glint in it, as if he were watching a good show.

Shikamaru, sprawled out, looked utterly bewildered. A classmate? Besides Choji and the occasionally boisterous Ino, which classmate would specifically come looking for him? And why did his father use that tone...?

Chapter 327 Summer Festival Dance (1)

When Shikamaru slowly sat up, his gaze passed over his father's figure and fell on you standing quietly outside the door, he froze instantly.

His body, which had been sluggish as if it had no bones, sat up almost reflexively, and the expression on his face was instantly replaced by astonishment and panic.

Seeing her son's rather dramatic reaction, Nara Yoshino, who was sitting to the side, looked over curiously.

Her gaze was first drawn to the girl's outstanding appearance and unique temperament, and she was slightly taken aback. Then, her keen senses as the matriarch of the Nara clan immediately allowed her to guess the girl's identity.

The iconic black hair and black eyes could probably only have been conceived by the extinct Uchiha clan.

"You are...Uchiha Nagi?" Yoshino's voice held more of an understanding and a hint of surprise. The name Nagi was not unfamiliar in Konoha, and it was associated with a great deal of attention.

You calmly met Yoshino's scrutiny.

Yoshino's face immediately lit up with a warm smile, and her tone became incredibly gentle, "Have you had lunch? Would you like something else?"

"I've already eaten, thank you," you replied politely, your voice cool yet respectful.

This polite refusal caused Yoshino's smile to vanish instantly. She turned sharply to look at Shikamaru, who was still sitting there in a daze, her eyes sharpening and her tone becoming authoritative.

"Shikamaru! What are you sitting there for? Hurry up and entertain your classmates! Don't you know any hospitality?"

Shikamaru was startled by his mother's sudden change of expression. He instinctively stood up, walked quickly to the door, and without thinking, grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room.

With a soft "bang," Shikamaru slammed the door shut behind him, even instinctively locking it.

After doing all this, he finally let go of your wrist, leaned against the door, and let out a long sigh of relief.

He looked up at you standing in the middle of the room, his face filled with disbelief. "You... how did you get into my house?"

You didn't understand why he was so surprised, and simply asked in return, "Aren't you welcome?"

His tone was unreadable, yet it made Shikamaru's heart skip a beat.

"No! I mean... it was too sudden." Shikamaru quickly explained, afraid that you would misunderstand.

"I came to ask if you write a weekly journal?" You looked at him, your dark eyes revealing no ambiguity, only pure purpose.

Shikamaru's lips twitched involuntarily. "You came all the way to my house just for this?"

He felt as if his intelligence and emotions had been insulted in a strange way by the girl in front of him, but strangely, he wasn't really angry.

You nodded honestly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Shikamaru was speechless for a moment, feeling a sense of powerlessness, as if he had punched cotton.

He rubbed his hair, sighed, and resignedly replied, "This week's journal entry... seems to be quite important to Teacher Iruka. She emphasized it several times in class. I think I should still write it."

He offered rational advice, but his gaze involuntarily fell on your expressionless face, trying to catch the slightest change in your emotions.

You don't actually want to write anything, whether it's reviewing the past week or expressing your feelings; it's meaningless and a waste of time.

It seems I can only ask Kakashi for help to fool him, just like before. You thought to yourself, and then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Shikamaru saw that you were really going to leave and almost instinctively tried to stop you. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that they were a bit abrupt. He cleared his throat and tried to make his tone sound more casual.

"...Not staying a little longer?" Even he himself found the question a bit strange, as Nara Shikamaru was the most averse to trouble.

"No," you said, stopping at the door without turning your head, "I need to find someone to help me write my weekly journal."

Ask someone for help? Several possible candidates flashed through Shikamaru's mind instantly. The urge to ask someone else made him blurt out, "Ahem... well, actually... I can do it too..."

Your hand, which was about to pull the door open, stopped. You turned your gaze back to Shikamaru with a hint of inquiry, as if assessing the credibility of his words.

Shikamaru felt his ears burning under your gaze, but he still managed to remain calm and pointed to the desk. "I'm going to write anyway, so writing an extra copy won't be a problem."

He tried to mask his unusual initiative by saying it was not troublesome.

And so, the time that followed passed in a strange harmony.

Shikamaru sat at his desk, resignedly spread out two scrolls, and began to conceive and write two weekly journals.

You focused your attention on the shogi set displayed in the center of the room.

The chess pieces on the board are arranged in a neat and orderly manner, and the battle seems to be in a delicate balance.

You stand quietly by the chessboard, observing the progress of the game.

After a while, you suddenly looked up at Shikamaru, who was engrossed in writing, and asked, "Are you troubled by something?"

Shikamaru paused, then looked up at you with some surprise. "Why do you ask that?" He thought he had hidden it well.

You point to a spot on the chessboard, "Judging from the initial moves, the strategy was meticulous and the calculations were far-reaching, but these last few moves..."

You trace the placement of several pieces. "The defense seems solid, but it reveals an impatience and eagerness to succeed. The attack routes also appear somewhat chaotic. Your mind is in turmoil."

Upon hearing this, Shikamaru coughed violently, as if he had choked on his own saliva, and an unnatural blush appeared on his cheeks.

He didn't expect you to have such a deep understanding of shogi, and he certainly didn't expect you to be able to so accurately see through the game to the subtle turmoil in his heart that even he himself didn't want to delve into.

The annoyance seemed to become increasingly clear from the moment you poked his cheek.

"Is that so..." Shikamaru lowered his head somewhat awkwardly, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I didn't expect you to know shogi too."

"I know a little," you replied casually, then your gaze returned to the chessboard. "May I touch the board?"

“Of course,” Shikamaru waved his hand, his tone carrying a hint of indulgence that he himself was unaware of, “Touch me however you like.”

In his presence, you seem to be able to break many of the troublesome boundaries he sets.

The room fell silent again, with only the scratching sound of Shikamaru's pen writing on the scroll and the clattering sound of you moving the chess pieces.

Shikamaru would occasionally glance up at the girl standing in front of the chessboard. Her decisive and swift movements when placing a piece were like a still image, quietly imprinted in his mind.

Surprisingly, he didn't dislike this undisturbed time together; in fact, he felt a strange sense of peace.

When the situation on the board settled into a delicate and balanced draw, Shikamaru put down his pen and let out a long sigh of relief.

"It's finished." He rubbed his slightly sore wrists and pushed the two scrolls to the other side of the table.

You walked over at the sound, picked up one of your own weekly journals, and quickly skimmed through it.

Shikamaru's writing is fluent and logically clear. He not only fulfilled the assignment requirements but also cleverly avoided content that might touch on privacy or cause offense, demonstrating excellent tact.

"Well written." You put down the scroll and gave a fair evaluation. The praise was simple, but it made Shikamaru feel a little proud.

“However,” Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, looking at your calm profile, and suddenly felt an urge to tease you. He deliberately dragged out his words, speaking with a hint of mockery.

"I'm helping you write your weekly journal, but it's not free; there's a price to pay."

"What?" You turned to look at him.

The distance between the two of you instantly shortened because you turned around.

In this close encounter, Shikamaru keenly noticed details that had been overlooked.

Your lips, which usually appear somewhat pale, now have an unnatural, slightly swollen look.

Last night's blurry fragments of memory flooded my mind: your quiet drunkenness, being taken away by Sasuke... A bad feeling crept into my head.

The teasing smile on Shikamaru's face vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp scrutiny.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on your lips, his voice unconsciously deepening, "Your lips... what's wrong?"

You subconsciously raised your hand and touched your lower lip. "...I don't know."

You really don't know that the memory gap caused by a hangover leaves you with no recollection of what happened after you left the barbecue restaurant last night.

Seeing Shikamaru's serious expression, she suddenly remembered Sakura's question from that morning, so she followed up by asking, "Did you take me home last night?"

Shikamaru shook his head, his tone tinged with coldness, "No, I was giving Choji a ride. According to the route, Sasuke should have been giving you a ride home on his way."

He stared intently into your eyes and pressed, "What did he do to you last night?"

He was almost certain that the abnormality of your lips was definitely related to Uchiha Sasuke.

You try hard to recall, but your mind remains blank, with only a lingering headache reminding you of the consequences of your indulgence. "I can't remember."

Seeing your completely unguarded appearance, Shikamaru's anger and resentment towards Sasuke grew wildly.

That guy actually took advantage of someone in distress? Shikamaru could imagine the scene. He clenched his fists, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. There was no point in confronting him now. You have no memory, and Sasuke would never admit it.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his turbulent emotions, knowing he couldn't keep you any longer.

He knew his parents were curious, and if he stayed any longer, he would probably be questioned even more harshly.

"Alright, the journal is finished," Shikamaru stood up, his tone returning to its usual lazy manner, yet carrying a hint of barely perceptible concern.

"Go home early. My parents are too curious about you. If you stay any longer, I'm afraid they'll start interrogating you."

Recalling Shikaku's surprised look and Yoshino's overly eager attitude, you nodded with deep understanding.

You're definitely not good at handling this kind of overly enthusiastic attention.

Shikamaru escorted you to the courtyard. The afternoon sun was just right, and the herbs planted in the courtyard emitted a faint fragrance.

Standing at the doorway, watching your departing figure, Shikamaru suddenly called out in an affectionate tone, "See you tomorrow, classmate!"

You stopped, turned around, and looked at Shikamaru, nodding slightly in response to his farewell, "See you tomorrow."

Nara Shikamaru remained standing in the same spot, his gaze somewhat unfocused, seemingly still lingering in the direction the girl had gone.

Just then, a mocking tsk-like sound came from behind. Shikamaru froze and slowly turned his head.

Sure enough, his parents, Nara Shikaku and Nara Yoshino, were standing under the eaves. They had secretly followed him there at some point, and their faces wore identical smiles.

Yoshino crossed her arms, her eyes sharp enough to see right through people, while Shikaku stroked his chin, looking on with amusement.

Shikamaru sighed heavily in his heart, feeling even more exhausted than if he had played chess for three days straight. Resigned, he dragged his feet to his parents.

"Tell me, Shikamaru," Yoshino spoke first, her tone carrying an unquestionable interrogation, "How far have things progressed between you and that Uchiha Nagi..."

Shikamaru felt a headache coming on; he knew this would happen. "Mom, what is all this nonsense?"

He rubbed his temples helplessly. "She and I are just ordinary classmates."

"Just a deskmate?" Yoshino raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing it. "I saw her stay in her room for quite a while, didn't I? You even helped her with her homework? Shikamaru, you used to find it troublesome even when Choji asked you to play shogi."

“That is…” Shikamaru was speechless, unable to find a suitable reason to refute.

Are you suggesting he said he inexplicably didn't want you to ask someone else for help?

"Just deskmates?" Yoshino shook her head, her face showing a look of disappointment. "Shikamaru, it's not that I'm criticizing you, but when it comes to chasing girls, you haven't learned a single thing from your father back in the day!"