Enchanted Shadows

Chapter 2 - Natasha's Shadow

POV: Maya

---

Living in Natasha's shadow was like standing in the cold. No matter how hard I pushed, no matter how many hours I trained until my muscles screamed for mercy, it was never enough. Natasha excelled in everything. Every mission, every combat session-she was perfect, a machine that executed every move flawlessly. The instructors watched her with a glint of pride, while their eyes met mine with only a flicker of impatience.

One morning, we were called into the briefing room. Another mission, another task where I would inevitably fall short. I stood behind Natasha as she was handed the primary objective. Of course, she was. I was to support, to be the backup. Again.

"Maya," the instructor's voice was as sharp as a blade, "you'll follow Natasha's lead. This mission requires precision."

I nodded, feeling the familiar sting of being sidelined. Natasha didn't look at me as she received her orders. She didn't need to. She knew her role. And mine.

"You ready?" she asked as we exited the room, her voice calm, focused.

"Yes," I replied, though my voice lacked her confidence. I envied her ease, the way she could face anything without a flicker of doubt.

---

After the mission briefing, we went straight into a training session. Natasha moved across the mat like water, every motion fluid and deadly. I tried to mimic her, to follow her movements, but every time I did, it felt wrong. Too slow, too forced.

"You're hesitating," Natasha called out, her voice cutting through the room. "Don't think, just act."

I gritted my teeth, lunging forward, but she easily sidestepped, countering with a move that sent me sprawling to the ground.

"Again," she commanded.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the bruises forming on my knees. We repeated the sequence over and over. Each time, she read me like an open book. Each time, I hit the mat.

"You're predictable, Maya," she said as I lay there, trying to catch my breath. "You telegraph your moves."

"Easy for you to say," I snapped, frustration boiling over. "You make it look effortless."

Natasha paused, her eyes narrowing. "Do you think this was easy for me?"

I didn't respond. I knew her story-the pain, the hardship. But knowing and feeling were two different things. All I saw was her perfection and my failure.

"You need to stop trying to be me," she continued, her voice softening just a fraction. "Find your own way."

"I don't have my own way," I muttered, pushing myself up. "I'm just... not enough."

She shook her head. "That's where you're wrong."

---

After the session, we sat in the corner of the training hall, both of us nursing our wounds in silence. Finally, Natasha spoke.

"Why do you always compare yourself to me?" she asked.

"Why?" I laughed bitterly. "Because everyone else does. To them, I'm just your shadow. The lesser Romanoff."

Her jaw tightened. "You're not lesser, Maya. You're different."

"Different," I repeated, letting the word hang in the air between us. "That's just a polite way of saying I'm not as good."

"That's not what I meant," she said, her voice losing some of its sharpness. "You have strengths, Maya. You just don't see them yet."

I looked away, unwilling to let her words sink in. "Strengths that don't matter here."

"They matter more than you think," she replied quietly.

---

Over the next few weeks, the resentment within me grew. I watched as Natasha took on mission after mission, her reputation in the Red Room solidifying while mine remained stagnant. Every time she returned, there were whispers-how brilliantly she executed her tasks, how she was becoming the weapon they had always envisioned. And then there was me, trailing behind, the unremarkable shadow.

We were assigned a new training regimen-advanced hand-to-hand combat. Of course, Natasha mastered it within days. I, on the other hand, struggled to keep up. During one session, we were paired together again. As usual, Natasha effortlessly countered my every move.

"You're holding back," she said, irritation creeping into her voice.

"No, I'm not," I retorted, sweat dripping down my face.

"Yes, you are," she insisted. "You're so afraid of failing that you won't take a risk."

"Easy for you to say," I shot back. "You don't know what it's like to always come up short."

"Is that what you think?" Natasha's eyes were icy, her tone matching. "That I've never failed? That this came easy?"

I clenched my fists. "You don't understand. They see you as perfect. They see me as... nothing."

Natasha's expression softened, but it only made me angrier. "You're more than what they see, Maya."

"Stop saying that!" I shouted. "Stop pretending you know what it's like to be me. You've always been what they wanted. I've always been the disappointment."

She took a step back, hurt flashing across her face. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt. But it was quickly swallowed by the bitterness that had taken root in my heart. I turned away, unwilling to let her see the tears that threatened to fall.

"Maybe if I just tried harder," I muttered, more to myself than to her, "they'd see me the way they see you."

Natasha was silent for a long moment before she finally spoke. "Maya... you're more than just what they want you to be."

"Then why can't I feel it?" I whispered.