#aburame

Shino, with someone who likes bugs as much as him, would...soften.

He might not really show it the way his heart jumps every time, but his voice would become less stoic, softer when talking about insects, especially if they show interest in his clan or the kikaichū he would definitely invite them over to his compound or bug watching walks while talking.

He would definitely initiate conversations more, seek them out, and just be eager to share knowledge because after all this time, he finally felt seen, someone that understands him, so long quiet talks are definitely a thing, both about bugs and eventually about him, about them.

He would be grateful, because now, he didn't had the need to hide parts of himself, everyone knows he likes bugs but, who could say with certainty what's his favorite type of butterfly?, no one, not until them.

The things he shows are his job, because it's his technique, it's his duty to do missions, to explain the basics to his teammates so they could work together, but now?, he would open on completely.

Expect things like being gifted rare insects or pupae in glass terrariums, being shown his kikaichū nest, something deeply private, and intimate, and of course handle or feed his bugs, wich besides his dad there is no one else that can do that.

Also, he would be completely loyal, both as a person and to protect them, he could manage people making fun of him, they weren't relevant, but them?, he would step in, quietly, serene, but intense.

The sun filters gently through the trees, casting light over a mossy stone path. Shino kneels beside a low bush, gloved fingers carefully guiding a leaf aside to reveal a beetle with iridescent wings. "You see?" he murmurs, barely louder than the wind. "A Chrysochroa fulgidissima. Jewel beetle. Very rare this time of year." They crouch beside him, eyes wide with wonder. “It’s beautiful. Look how its carapace reflects green and gold.” Shino is silent for a long moment. Then, without looking at you, he speaks again. “…Most people wouldn't notice that.” . “Then most people are missing out.” He turns just slightly, gaze hidden behind dark glasses, but his voice is softer—warm. “I’m glad you're not like most people.” And next to him, nestled between the roots of an old tree, one of his kikaichū crawls up your sleeve. Neither of you flinch.

"He trusts you because i trust you... thank you", he whispered, eyes looking away, but the smallest of smiles ghosts over his lips.

This is a chrysochroa fulgidissima ♡

When you got home, the first thing you did was take a long, hot shower. Only when you changed into a fresh set of loungewear—reinvigorated by the clean clothes and the steam wafting out of your bathroom—did you turn your sights to unpacking your mission pack. 

It sat on a tattered mat by your door. The dye on the thick, hardy fabric had faded early in your career, and the dense threads were caked with dirt and other stains that would never come out. Sweat had probably penetrated every stitch. You hauled it by the top strap into your workshop, and from there, you began unpacking. 

The dirty clothes were tossed into your laundry basket. Your unused kunai and shuriken were placed in a pile on your workbench to be repacked into your smaller bag for patrols. You’d inspect them later. 

With you and Shino home again, you knew it would take no time for the both of you to be incorporated back into the schedule for patrols, guard duty, and other routine responsibilities for experienced shinobi. The leftover equipment and tools used for your installation went back into their proper places in your organization system (or at least what you called “organized”). 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You perked up at the sound, instinctively turning in the direction of the window between your lounge area and your kitchen. You padded out of your workshop, and before you sat a messenger hawk on its outside perch. It pecked again, although gently, at the glass. The surface was still scratched and weathered. A neat little card sat in its beak.

You unlatched the window, sliding it open to take your message from the bird. You took the card from the messenger hawk, which let out a delighted shriek, flaring its wings. It motioned with its head, and upon further inspection, it appeared that the hawk carried several messages. All of them were crammed into the message canister so tightly that you thought you would have to take the whole harness off, but with a bit of effort, you managed to retrieve your cylinder of communications. You sent the bird off with a small treat before closing the window again. 

You read the first of the bird’s communications. You started with a lilac-colored note as you rinsed your hand off in the sink. The square-shaped envelope carried a letter written on quality, heavy-duty paper. You studied your name written at the top in neat penmanship. 

“We would like to formally extend an invitation to our wedding rehearsal…” the first line read. You skimmed the rest, quickly absorbing the time and location details before flipping the card over in acute confusion. 

You didn’t think people usually sent out invitations to wedding rehearsals, but you had, after all, been unreachable as of late. You had also never planned a wedding before, so you decided that perhaps you weren’t one to judge a couple’s abundance of communication with their wedding guests. 

You flipped past a few bills and other documents you deemed ignorable for the time being. You were late on a few annual trainings and had to renew some certification or another. Deadlines for various menial tasks were approaching somewhere off in the near-distant future, although it wasn’t something you were remotely worried about. 

The documents were so crammed together that they were hard to separate. But amongst the curled notices, you instantly recognized a formal insignia. Your fingers fumbled, quickly separating it from the rest, only to find that there were two official messages. Your name was printed sternly at the top of both, and together they read,

“I am pleased to offer you the position of Senior Commanding Jōnin at…”

— “Fort Azuma, the eastern base affiliated with Konohagakure…”

— “Fort Nantou, the southeastern base affiliated with Konohagakure…”

That was… horribly fast. However, you weren’t too surprised that the satellite bases were hurting to acquire some experienced leadership. So much had changed after the war, including the mass of shinobi who decided to retire and those lost on the field. 

It was a good thing. It was what you wanted. And yet, you couldn’t help the beat of hesitancy that wracked your body. 

You stood, holding both offers in your hands. You traced the letters with your eyes; their shape served as an oddly harsh and surreal reminder of reality. You had taken the steps to transfer out of the central village. You dreamed about the opportunity to escape your routine, to become someone new somewhere else. And yet… perhaps you didn’t consider you’d get this far.

A single, curled note floated to the floor from somewhere behind your offer notices. It was printed on intricately official paper directly from the Hokage’s office. Only one word was printed on it.

“Drinks?” It read. 

You let out a heavy sigh.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed.

***

 Shikamaru had a usual place that he liked to escape to both after and during hours when it came to lulls on busy afternoons. It allowed for smoking and wasn’t too far from the Hokage building. You arrived shortly after receiving his note, knowing that it was more likely than not that he was still there. If Shikamaru wasn’t at work, he was at home with Temari; if he wasn’t at home with Temari, he was here. 

The sun still shone light in the sky, but its orientation was slowly sinking as if trying to slink off behind the horizon without anyone noticing. It wasn’t too dissimilar to the way Shikamaru had slinked off to his corner bar seat. 

The bar sat half inside and half outside, with the outside part coiling around an unfortunately placed pillar near one of the outer walls of the building. But the awkward orientation made for a quiet, out-of-sight nook for Shikamaru, his drink, and his ashtray.

“You’re hiding,” you frowned, sliding onto the seat next to him. You plucked a little rectangular menu out from under Shikamaru’s ashtray.  

His back pressed against the wall behind him as he sat sideways on his chair, lounging laxly with a cigarette between his fingers. He took a drag on it with a shrug.

“You found me anyway,” he hummed. You didn’t humor his sarcastic reply; you already engaged with the bartender who took your drink order. Shikamaru couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to what you asked for. He slumped a little farther down against the wall, letting his knees spread on his seat. His free hand rested on the back of his chair. 

You turned to Shikamaru, “Food and drinks are on you, right?”

Shikamaru exhaled a puff of smoke, brow cocked. 

“Who said anything about food?” he huffed, but you were already handing your little menu off, and the bartender went on his way. After eating nothing but boring base food and field snacks, you were itching for something with a little flavor. A little something that would surely clog your arteries didn’t sound too bad, either. 

Shikamaru sighed, extinguishing the butt of his cigarette in his ashtray. He was planning on charging the tab to Old Man Kakashi anyway…

“How was the install?” he asked. You didn’t notice the delayed drag of his words as Shikamaru tried a little too hard to remain casual. His eyes flickered toward you, then down as he brought his drink to his lips. 

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you pulled the offer letters out of your pocket and gently threw them on the table. They fell perfectly, the pages sailing to a spot on the counter between you, where they sat overlayed with each other. 

Shikamaru nearly choked, taking little more than a second to recover as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“Oh shit,” he coughed, “You really went through with it.”

In his state of shock, neither you nor Shikamaru knew if his words were a question or a flabbergasted statement. The bottom of his glass was quickly placed back on the countertop. It hit the surface with a tiny splatter, his cup sweating far too much condensation from the time he’d been sitting there and nursing it. 

Shikamaru tugged the top letter down just enough to see the contents of the paper underneath, even though he already knew what it said. 

“I mean…” he trailed. Fuck, he needed another cigarette for this. Shikamaru dug around in his pockets. “Congrats.” 

He took his pack from his pocket, summoning a cigarette upward with a sharp flick of his wrist. Immediately, he took it into his mouth, lighting the end with an acute sigh of relief. 

Shikamaru had an inkling this would happen. You mentioned a transfer in passing a few times, and no matter how often he made grunts to the contrary, you seemed to always have it in your mind that condemning yourself to a satellite base would make you feel accomplished. 

Kiba also did a stint at the southern base when he was having a quarter-life crisis. He called it a tour of the boonies before he came back to the village with his tail between his legs to finally buck up and settle down with Tamaki. 

You frowned, quickly shuffling the offer letters away. 

“I wasn’t expecting a big reaction out of you, but jeez,” you huffed. You waved your hand in the air to try to dissipate the smoke that seemed to pour from Shikamaru. 

“What?” he said with crinkled brows. “I said congrats.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed. Try to be less excited. Please, Shikamaru, this is embarrassing.” Your drink was delivered sometime between mockeries, and you wasted no time bringing it to your lips. The appetizer you ordered followed closely behind. 

Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

“No one’s gonna jizz their pants because you got a position you’re overqualified for.”

“Thanks for that.”

While the satellite bases were nothing to look down upon, they hardly got much action after the war. Armed with skilled shinobi as they already were, having you there would be like fortifying an anthill with a bazooka. 

The generation most responsible for the Leaf’s successes during the war was the most accomplished class in a long while, with each and every one of you being a powerhouse in your own right.

Shikamaru shook his head, putting the butt of his cigarette out with a bit more force than necessary. It wasn’t an angry action but one of laziness as he let his wrist almost drop down amongst the ashes.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

“You don’t gotta prove shit,” he muttered, but not lowly enough for you to be able to ignore him. You frowned, crossing your legs as you continued to nurse your drink. He reached for a bite of your food with a shadow he didn’t think you’d notice, slowly inching the basket closer. 

“You don’t get restless?” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. Shikamaru shrugged.

“Only the ambitious get restless,” he sighed, pressing his cheek into the palm of his hand. “I’m gonna live here, die here, and that’s plenty for me.” 

“You’re in a mood today.”

“You’re starting to sound like my wife,” Shikamaru mused with a grumble before letting silence wash over the two of you. Idle chatter from around you melded together into white noise along with the low music that played from somewhere. He took a shallow breath in.

”Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Breathing like that.” You swiveled slightly on your seat to face him. Your eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even ask.” 

Shikamaru’s eyebrows bounced as he dug a bit deeper into the food. The basket appeared to have grown just slightly closer to him. You didn’t like the self-assured dip of his lip. 

“So it’s about him after all,” Shikamaru sighed, reaching for another bite. You pulled the basket away before he could, much to Shikamaru’s visible dismay.

“Don’t even go there,” you warned, glaring. “It’s not.”

“But it’s at least a part of it.” He appeared otherwise unbothered. “Can’t you two just kiss and make up already? This has been going on long enough—”

—“I’m not the one who brought it up—”

“Talk about emotionally constipated…” 

“I’m not talking about this because there’s nothing to talk about. It’s not about him, okay? It would be stupid if it was.” You slapped his hand away from the last bite of your food, meeting his gaze as you shoved the last of it into your mouth. Shikamaru’s posture visibly deflated. 

“Now that’s just uncalled for.”

“Get your own.” You swiveled back around to face the counter, still guarding the now-empty snack basket. You slumped back against the back of your seat, arms crossed. “Besides… We talked about it plenty. Probably too much. It’s just…” Shikamaru’s intent stare made it easy for him to catch your eye. It made it even easier to see through the slight smile you tried to offer him. “… time to move on, isn’t it?”

Shikamaru tore his gaze away from yours, already digging for another cigarette. 

“It seems like you’ve already got your mind made up…”

***

“Is everything… okay?” Kakashi’s eyes narrowed. He clasped his hands together, leaning the tip of his chin on his folded fingers. 

A vein in Shino’s forehead twitched in confusion.

“Yes…?” He spoke slowly, thrown off by the intense stare that bore into him. Kakashi sat unmoving despite Shino’s answer. He gazed straight ahead, almost as if he were expecting more. “Why?”

“I thought I’d have better luck getting an answer out of you than—” Kakashi motioned to the empty space next to Shino where you had just been standing. You dashed out of his office after delivering your report quickly. It would be a few more hours until you met Shikamaru for drinks. —“That one. Nearly ripped my doors off the hinges coming in and out of here.”

“I can’t say I have anything else to report,” Shino said, the corner of his lips pulling slightly downward. He buried his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t need any other information about the installation, I’ll be going—”

Kakashi waved his hand in the air with a sigh.

“I’ve heard all I need to about that,” he said with another huff. “I wanted to know what was going on with that weird chakra between you two.” Kakashi raised a lazy finger, gesturing between Shino and the empty space again. 

Shino’s frown only deepened. 

“You can’t possibly be this bored.”

“It’s not like you to be getting into fistfights.” Kakashi shrugged, sitting back in his chair with his arms coiled over his chest. His words weren't scolding as much as they almost sounded mocking. He was getting at something; if Shino was good at anything, it was picking up on subtleties. 

“Fair enough, you’ve made your point,” Shino was quick to speak, his words spitting out with more force than he intended. 

It caused Kakashi a slight pause, not so much taken aback as silently self-satisfied in an unspoken hunch. Perhaps he was bored after all. He sat up just a bit taller. Kakashi’s arms remained crossed over his chest, his elbows now resting on his desk as he leaned forward. 

He didn’t say anything else, simply staring at Shino with an unsettlingly unreadable expression under his mask. And then, without warning, he rose, slapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.

“A personal matter then… None of my business.”

“Am I dismissed then?” 

Kakashi hummed affirmatively, and Shino paid little mind as Kakashi slowly meandered around to the front of his desk. Rather, Shino turned quickly, eager to get home and shed his gear. 

“But if I could give you one piece of advice before you go…” Shino had just reached the door, his hand hovering over the handle as Kakashi spoke. He cringed, eyes pinching closed just slightly as his head ticked to the side. 

He ironed his expression back out before he turned around, eyeing Kakashi with a little less restraint for his annoyance. Although, his demeanor wasn’t too far from his regular appearance. 

Kakashi leaned his hip against the front of his desk, a few papers in his hand. He didn’t look at Shino when he spoke, shuffling through the same three pages.

“If you’re going to make a decision, I would do it sooner rather than later,” he said. Shino didn’t have time to respond. Kakashi lowered the pages, finally making lazy eye contact. “I’ve been getting quite a few base transfer requests lately. I suppose a change of scenery is in high demand right now.” 

Shino eyed him warily from behind his darkened shades. 

“I suppose it is.”

***

Kiba was apparently looking for him. He had been banging at Shino’s door a few times a day, much to the dismay of Shino’s neighbors and the rest of the Aburames at the family compound. But if Kiba was anything more than a nuisance, he was thorough. Several different people reported Kiba’s ruckus to Shino but also carried a message: Kiba wanted to meet and soon.

Even so, Shino took his sweet time meeting his fellow squad member. The whole change of scenery thing stuck with Shino more than he would’ve liked, but he thought that with all the bustle about the wedding, there would be plenty to distract himself with. Konohamaru had apparently been working on some grand video in Shino’s absence, and everyone in their class was brainstorming creative ideas and gifts to bring to the celebration. At least, that’s what his beetles were reporting back to him.

“Ew! A bug!”

“Catch it! Catch it!”

Shino’s head snapped to the side just in time to catch a small group of children rapidly closing in on one of his beetles. Shino lunged forward with a yell, with a bit more urgency than was necessary if he were actually thinking, startling the group as the beetle swiftly escaped to its host. But with his bug safe and his 194cm form now hovering menacingly over a group of small children, Shino considered damage control.

“That bug’s my… friend.” He cringed as the words spilled off his lips. The sheepish crinkle of his brows was well hidden behind his hood and dark shades. To Shino, the statement made sense. Still, he was aware enough to understand how his words could potentially come off as absolutely insane. 

“You’re a bug summoner!” one of the kids exclaimed in recognition. Shino let out a subtle breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding. Great, he couldn’t even talk to Genin in a coherent way without help.

“Yeah,” Shino affirmed, and what little control he had over the interaction vanished as the group of kids swarmed him. And being the sucker he was (Mirai’s made him soft in recent years), Shino was commanding his beetles to do tricks before he knew it. He contorted them into different shapes, answering questions and entertaining chatter about the children’s various shinobi ambitions. 

“I’ve never seen a bug-user in person before!” Well, now you have.

“Do you have to summon them one at a time?” No.

“Are you popular at parties?” No.

“Do you want to become an insect summoner?” Shino asked a boy whose hands were just about saturated with beetles. The boy glinted up at him with wild eyes, hands poised up in the air like a surgeon ready for a procedure. 

“No way!” he exclaimed with certainty. A thick layer of bugs crawled over his palms and fingers. “I’m gonna become Hokage one day and surpass Naruto Uzumaki as a ninja.” 

“The Hokage, huh?” Shino hummed with seriousness. (He could ignore the implication that an insect summoner can’t be Hokage.) “Well, if you want to surpass Naruto, you’ll have to become Hokage, right?”

“You get it!” One of the other children chirped. 

Shino nodded, memories of Kiba and his bragging prevalent in his mind. It almost made Shino crack a smile. A group of two boys and one girl… They even looked a little like Team 8. 

“Yeah, I know someone else who wants to be Hokage. And if you ask me, you’ve got him beat already.”

The boy’s eyes glittered. 

“Really?”

Shino didn’t have it in him to stifle the way the corners of his mouth turned upward. 

“Really,” he said, “I can’t say I know anyone who says they want to become Hokage as an afterthought. You’ve got a serious dream, alright.”

“Was your dream to become an insect user?” The little girl asked. 

Shino faltered. His logical side wanted to say no, that the Aburame clan established their hives at very young ages as part of a long-held tradition. However, he was reluctant to say that what amounted to upholding his birthright wasn’t his dream. But no one had asked him outright what he wanted out of life before…

Once again, Shino didn’t get the opportunity to speak. 

“Oh,” one of the little boys asked, seeming to sense Shino’s hesitation, “Are you one of those shinobi that just want a wife and kids?”

The other little boy smacked the back of the boy’s head. 

“Not everyone wants a wife, stupid.” He turned to Shino. “He can have a husband,” he said with assertive certainty. He nodded profusely. “Or like, I dunno, something like my parents!”

“I really have to be going,” Shino cleared his throat. Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, he was already late for his meeting with Kiba, and his conversation with this genin group was beginning to sound like an Aburame family gathering.

So, when Shino and Kiba gathered to discuss wedding presents, Shino thought that the lightness of the topic could keep him well-distracted. 

He thought wrong.

“It’s our final mission as Team 8,” Kiba said, glancing over his shoulder at Shino with a wide grin. “Once Hinata gets married, we won’t get to work together the way we used to, right?” He was too lost in his grand proclamations to see the visible tension in Shino’s figure.

“Yeah…” Shino muttered. “That’s true.” 

Shino knew— yes, the thought had crossed his mind— that Hinata getting married would mean the end of Team 8. Hinata was hardly enthusiastic about mission work anyway. Despite all she did to do her part in stepping up during reconstruction, the donations of her time and efforts were more out of the goodness of her heart rather than a passion for late-night patrols. 

Her wedding would mark a perfect opportunity for her to retire. Shino knew Hinata had always wanted to be a mother, so retiring and having a baby or two would be a well-deserved dream realized. Shino was more than happy for her, but it was another thing he had never heard spoken out loud before. 

Kiba had even said it lightly. We won’t get to work together the way we used to, as opposed to Team 8 will never fight together again. (Unless Hinata grew restless for a bit of field action, Shino couldn’t recount the last time he witnessed Hinata restless.)

And so, despite Kiba’s abundance of excitement to set out on a quest, Shino quickly took the lead. They both set off quickly, searching for the perfect gift for Naruto and Hinata.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Hi hi hi I'm sorry for the... 2 year delay 🥲 I finally figured out what I want to do with this story and I guess it took this long. No timeline at the moment, sorry!