A lazy, slow morning was unfurling in the Abruame main house, dawning with the rare promise of no obligations. As was his custom, he rose before dawn, quietly padding down to the washroom to wash his face. He looked himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and idly pondering shaving before giving it up as more trouble than it was worth. The stubble on his chin itched something awful, but who knows? Perhaps Kintsugi would find it appealing. She was so easily taken in sometimes when he would return from a long mission, running her soft hands over the unfamiliar growth on his chin, the tightness in his muscles, his scars—new and old.
After wiping his face with a towel, he shrugged a cotton robe on over his lose green jinbei, and swept out of the washroom, feet silent on the tatami. Shibi had put in his five-week leave request four months prior, and last he’d seen in, the approved paperwork was sitting stamped on the Hokage’s desk—the man himself affording him a rare smile, aged eyes crinkling at the edges as he mused.
“I remember when my Biwako was about to give birth… ha, right up until the pivotal moment, she just kept yelling at me to stop fussing.”
Shibi hadn’t been quite sure what to make of this statement. The sentiment was apparent, but the honored Hokage’s tone was almost more regretful than nostalgic. Shibi respectfully inclined his head behind his high collar, the charm hanging from his glasses swaying.
“She was a very strong woman,” he acknowledged.
“Don’t I know it…” the Hokage said gently, taking a moment to light his pipe. In seconds, the office was suffused with the scent of warm tobacco. “Ah, it’s young Kintsugi-chan, correct? Don’t let her bully you too much, now.”
As Shibi exited the house, sliding the shoji screen back behind him, he wondered if his wife ought not to bully him a little more. She had been so surprised to hear that his time off from had been approved. Though he would still have council duties and clan matters to attend to, there would be no more missions until well after she had given birth. He rather suspected that she still didn’t quite believe he truly intended to share these five weeks with her, and if he was honest with himself about it, that stung.
Have I really been so distant, he wondered, lowering himself onto the wood of the deck. He entered a meditative posture, facing east, so that the sun might rouse him from his contemplation when it rose. He breathed in, chest rising, holding it for thirty seconds, before exhaling slowly. Several minutes passed in silence. For the moment, Shibi let it go—his stress over Kintsugi’s doubts, his concern for their unborn child, his own inadequacies as a partner, his lingering regrets over his father relationship with his father, his worry he would make those same mistakes—
Breathe.
After half an hour of this, he began chakra circulating exercises, which served the dual purpose of keeping him sharp during his leave of absence and awakening and feeding his hive. The constant churn of inner life, the movement of his kikaichu, were of infinite comfort to him. He thought back to his early awkward courtship of Kintsugi, when she had had just a little too much to drink, and her questions were bolder than he was used to, and so much more deeply personal than she could have known.
“What is… what is it like? To have them inside you all of the time?” she asks, red curls falling over porcelain skin flushed red.
He had considered carefully before answering, perhaps just grateful she sounded curious instead of revolted.
And certainly he could have described to her the smooth slide of nearly imperceptible bodies, at times like the flow of blood through one’s veins, at times vibrating through him like chills as they were abuzz in activity, or bursting somewhat painfully from his pores as they obeyed his commands, tickling over the surface of his skin with a the swift reassurance not unlike a mother’s embrace—
But what if she thought him disgusting?
What could an outsider possibly think of it…?
His heart had beat in his chest in a fear he couldn’t quite put a name to. So, instead—
“It is a difficult question to answer. Why…? Because they are simply a part of me.”
Kintsugi shifted uneasily, dissatisfied by his response, before suddenly becoming shy.
“If you had the choice… if you were born again, would you choose to live without them? I mean… live a normal life?” she asked, not quite meeting his eye. He had the distinct impression that she was actually asking about something else. What, he couldn’t fathom.
Would he choose another path? One without the unity with his kikaichu, without his team and comrades, his duty to the village? Give up all the work it had taken to achieve his prowess in battle… Live without the pressure of the clan bearing down on him, or their unwavering support as his family buoyed him up?
Never. Absolutely not.
As deeply as he respected her, it was a very… civilian line of thinking.
“Would you choose to be born without fingers?” he said, almost snapping at her.
“N-no, certainly not.”
“And so it is.”
Shibi opens his eyes as he hears Kintsugi slide the door open behind him. The sun was up, and it was well into the morning. The garden was alight with dew, shinning beads adorning the foliage and casting spider webs to crystal in the sun’s glow. He hadn’t meant to take this much time. Where had his discipline run off to…?
“You forgot your glasses,” Kintsugi says, voice scratchy from sleep, before she walks up behind him and places the shades on his face. He turns back to her, and the sight of her—silk pajamas, mouth wrenched open in a silent yawn, red hair mussed, face free of cosmetics, and her stomach swollen with pregnancy—has him awash in an ecstasy of love.
She smiles at him, as though she’s just happy he is here, like he promised.
“Come inside. You can help me slice some fruit up for breakfast… and you look like a hobo.”
Shibi’s on his feet in an instant, and he wraps his arms around her. For a moment she’s surprised, but she quickly returns his embrace.
“The Hokage said you aren’t allowed to bully me,” he says quietly, a grin pulling at his face.
“He said no such thing!” Her nose wrinkles in mirth, and he kisses the tip of it.
As the sun rose over the Aburame compound and the couple entered their home, arguing good naturedly about whether an idle quip from the village’s leader counts as an official decree, they both felt for that no matter what was broken between them… even if it had been broken from the start… it would not be enough to break them.
And maybe it was naive, but for the moment, that belief was enough.
5.4 ft. (Genin), 5.8 ft. (Chuunin), 6.1 ft. (Jounin)
Zodiac:
Rooster
Ethnicity:
Japanese-Analogous
Chakra Type:
Primary Earth, Secondary Fire
Specializations:
Kikaichu no Jutsu, Advanced Insect Clones, Taijutsu
Residence:
Konohagakure no Sato
Occupation:
Shinobi, Amateur Photographer
BIOGRAPHY
"Yesterday, I had the rare opportunity to witness the cicadas emerge. They're a full year earlier than anticipated, so I thought to document the event... and while I readied my camera, one of the freshly-moulted adults was caught by a wasp. The struggle went on and on. It was all quite natural, but for some reason, I just can’t stop thinking about it…"
Ill-tempered and argumentative, Fumio’s default mood is a kind of contemplative irritation. While generally respectful to strangers, it doesn’t take much for a conversation with her to turn to from polite to formally-worded-but-quietly-furious. Not at all loud by nature, the best warning you’ll get that a squabble is about to escalate into a brawl is her expression: when she reaches critical yankī, you’re about to get punched. While her demeanor is just a stone’s throw from Aburame standard chill, she doesn’t quite have the inner calm to pull it off, and her stillness and quiet comes across as tense rather than tranquil.
Peel away the chitinous outer shell, and you’re left with a core of vulnerability. While Fumio’s poor social skills serve to isolate her, she stews in loneliness and often craves companionship. Agonizingly self-sabotaging, she scares away potential acquaintances, alienates family, and back talks her superiors. Understandably, this behavior hasn’t left her with many friends. Once you’ve braved the worst of her attitude and gotten to know her, however, her fumbling attempts to keep your friendship will land somewhere between pitiful and heartwarming. Expect gifts of home-cooked food, teary existentialist talks that last long into the night, and routine offers to rough up your enemies.
A surprisingly sensitive person, Fumio spends her down time practicing photography with her late mother’s camera, trying out new recipes, and tending to the hoard of potted plants she keeps inside her tiny apartment. As though trying to recapture the abundance of nature she lost when she moved out of the Aburame clan compound, she plasters the walls of her room with nature shots taken throughout the Land of Fire. In contrast to the haphazard décor, she fastidiously keeps the rest of her space tidy and organized, an inclination that also applies to her increasingly desperate attempts to tame her unruly hair. If she could smooth back the issues in her life with the same ease that she gels her hair into submission, she’d still have a mess on her hands, but at least there’d be the comforting illusion of control.
Fumio’s life has largely been defined by two factors: loss, and abuses of power from authority figures. Often, she’s found, the two are intertwined. Her adoptive brother Tatsuma and cousin Torune, two children from a noble clan who ought to have been untouchable, were stolen away by ROOT. Her team placement and assigned Jounin instructor were sabotaged by a bitter teacher who was recovering from the death of his Uchiha fiancé. Her first Chuunin exam was punctuated by a near-death experience in which a medic attempted to force Fumio overdose on anesthesia, in revenge for having killed the medic’s brother in a traumatic struggle during the course of the third exam. These experiences have made Fumio suspicious, prickly, and defensive, but underneath the aggressive exterior is someone still trying to repair the damage.
Trying, however, is not always adequate.
OTHERS
ABURAME HISAYO - Fumio’s late mother, an accomplished photographer who specialized in portraiture. Fumio wears a pair of her old glasses until they’re broken during her first Chuunin exam. Elegant but sickly, Hisayo draped her thin body in layers, and fluttered around the clan compound like a fabric ghost. After conceiving Fumio out of wedlock, her mental state began to gently deteriorate as she developed unhealthy fixations on both her ex-lover
"that awful man left us, he left us, babydoll"
and daughter.
"let mama brush your pretty hair, oh, hopeless child, what would you ever do without me?"
Fumio prefers to remember Hisayo as nurturing and kind. For the most part, that's even true.
YUTA - Assigned to the same Genin team as Fumio and fully expected to flunk out of the program, Yuta is only marginally more competent at physical feats than the average civilian. What he lacks in strength, size, courage, and ability, however, he makes up in being extremely ornery… and also by being the user of a vestigial bloodline limit. Brought over as an infant from Hidden Mist by his father during the Bloodline purges, Yuta has little to no sense of patriotic loyalty to Konoha, believing strongly that the village used up his father as an expendable asset, leading to his death. He may not be wrong.
MAEDA RYUTO - Unlike Fumio and Yuta, the village had high hopes for Ryuto. Lauded as a genius, sponsored by the Yamanaka, Ryuto spent his early years apprenticing under a little-known perfumer and ended up inventing a chakra-effused genjutsu perfume. Believing his skills would be largely wasted in the field, his instructors planned for his failure (and subsequent induction into R&D) by placing him on Team Loser. As fate would have it, however, they tragically succeeded, ruining his career. Ryuto was cool with that, though. Ryuto, the sole serene team member, is honestly cool with most things.
ABURAME SHIASE - Probably one of the oldest people in the village, Shiase is one of those rare few individuals who might be called sages. Eyeless, grumpy, and wise, she rarely leaves the clan compound, electing to send one of the various youngsters she raises as a hobby to do her dark bidding. Typical kids would probably find her creepy—to the Aburame, she’s just Obaa-sama. After the death of Hisayo, Fumio and a handful of other Aburame orphans (or kids whose parents were on long-term missions) were taken under her wing. There are three things Shiase won’t abide: whining, messy hands, and poor kikaichu control. Obey her, or perish.
ABURAME KAZUE - Born in secret to Oda Noriko outside of the clan’s knowledge, Kazue spent much of her childhood as Oda Kazue. When her father Aburame Asahi died in battle against the Kyuubi, her mother elected to not inform his clan of her pregnancy. Perhaps after Asahi's death, she wanted a normal life for Kazue, or she simply couldn’t stand the idea of Kazue being given kikaichu. Regardless, when the Aburame found out, they immediately made Kazue their ward. Safe in Shiase’s care, Kazue looked on her hived cousins not with revulsion, but a consuming jealousy—this resentment eventually poisoned her relationship with Fumio, who once considered Kazue an elder sister, to Kazue's great shame. She now apprentices with Aburame florists.
this post is meant to be a directory of every resource I come across for Japanese. It will be a continuous work in progress so thank you for your patience! if you have any issues or things to add, please reply to this post!
apps
hiragana hero
book recommendations
read real japanese fiction - michael emmerich
courses
bliubliu
book2
colloquial (2nd edition) [pdf]
japanesepod101
making sense of japanese: what the textbooks don’t tell you - jay rubin [pdf]
She did as she was asked and kept her head down as it was obvious of all that was going on around them. Though she couldn’t help but take quick looks about her surroundings.
‘The village is under attack,and there’s fighting going on in the stands.’
Small blurred passings of armed people facing off one another.
‘The enemy used a genjutsu.’
Which explained the slight pounding in her head.
‘he’s evacuated already.’
Her son evacuating? No, no her son in his petty ways, much like how she herself could be, will have wanted to take any chance he could to take down the Suna Nin- after all they owed him a match. She trusted him he could but…this wasn’t the time to be petty and it certainly wasn’t the time to have a light hearted duel.
Fumio might have wanted to take her away to safety but Kintsugi was slightly torn. She needed to know the boy was safe, which she was sure he was but-
A quick head turn as the kunai pierced through the wooden seat, eyes widen in shock at the noticeable depth it went through. Oh that had most certainly been a close call. It took a second for what was happening to really process within her mind-which was reasonable, she was a civilian so something like this was the last thing on her mind more often then not.
A quick inhale of breath and a nod was the first answer she gave, she wasn’t sure exactly how they wouldn’t get out but she trusted Fumio to do as she said. “Yes that will do.” She needed another breath though to help steady her nerves a bit more.
She would have to see about keeping an eye out for him, she needed to trust her son was as capable as she knew he was. Possibly keep an eye out for her husband as well and request he find their boy.
Fumio took a few seconds to breathe, so she could begin her task with a clear head. Just another mission. Typical fare. ‘Escort a vulnerable target through a combat zone,’ but with home-terrain advantage. All told, it was hardly a cause for panic.
When she put it like that, she was almost convinced.
“With your permission,” she said, sliding out of her flak jacket and placing it around the Matriarch's shoulders. As far as armor went, the wire mesh in the weave and padding of the standard issue jackets could be counted on to stop or dampen a wide range of projectiles... up to a point.
Better than nothing.
Once that was secure, Fumio scooped Kintsugi into her arms, taking care that most of the woman’s body would be shielded by her own larger profile.
“Brace yourself,” she said, by way of warning, before body flickering several times in quick succession through the stands. Briefly, they acquired a pursuer—a Suna nin with a wicked-looking serrated blade—but he was quickly intercepted by a jounin of Konoha wielding a doton-forged hammer. Collateral to their fight, the area she and Kintsugi had just evacuated exploded into wood chips and chunks of cement. Fumio felt a few of them embed themselves in her right shoulder as she hopped into a lower section of the stadium, avoiding stray shuriken.
As was discussed, Fumio made a bee-line for one of the doors. To discourage enemy nin from engaging her, she shrouded herself and Kintsugi with a cloud of kikaichu, all buzzing threateningly. In the cramped space of the corridor, they made for a superb deterrent. But although the path forward was clear, the lights inside the building flickered ominously, before finally going dark. Blackout.
Still, the passage was thick with beetles, and navigating it with their assistance took only marginally more effort than it would have with sight. Swallowed up by the darkness of the hall, there was nothing but the slap of her sandals on tile, the muffled noise of distant battles, and the chittering of insects. Then, as they turned a corner, sunlight. A window, large enough it could serve as their exit.
Fumio sent her swarm ahead to shatter the glass, and leaped through it, out into the open air, perhaps five stories above ground level. She pumped her legs with chakra and braced her ankles for impact. As she landed on one of the red clay roofs below, it erupted into terracotta shards. Whoops. Well, she was sure they could chalk the damage up to an enemy shinobi. What was one more rooftop?
As smooth as their egress had been, however, it was overshadowed by the stunning appearance of a gigantic snake in the commercial district.
“Fumio.” Stepping into the ring of light illuminated by a lone street lamp, Shino approaches her outside the bar where – judging from the riot she’d left behind – Fumio had probably started yet another brawl. “You did not attend the family dinner last night. Your presence was missed.”
Fumio bit back the retort that sprang, unbidden, to her lips (I doubt that) and squared her shoulders. She knew her cousin wasn’t mocking her, but still the bitterness lingered, pressing against the back of her teeth. Or maybe that was just the nausea.
She pushed herself off of the wall, and to her credit, didn’t buckle or sway.
“I got as far as the front gate before an Elder accosted me,” she said, trying to make a joke of it all. “And somewhere between the lecture and the smell, I found I’d lost my appetite.”
‘ That’s why they go on and on about their dreams. That’s why they never give up. ‘
“They’re the lucky ones. If I ever had dreams like those rookies, I think mine must have faded away at some point without my realizing. Not to say I am without ambition. I have many goals–pages and pages of them, broken down into easily attainable steps, chartered over the next five years. But that isn’t inspirational, it’s pragmatic. I can’t just… shout my speed training timeline from a rooftop. It’s just numbers, almost meaningless. There’s no feeling there.”
Fumio repressed a weary sigh. “Shino-sama, that Uzumaki, and all of their friends… I envy them. I’m happy with my progress, and I’m proud to number among Konoha’s shinobi… butsometimes I feel I’m closer in temperament to the last generation than these up-and-comers. I don’t share their optimism.”
Yharnam is a festering wound. Unknowingly encouraged by the practice of Blood Ministration, the beast plague is rampant, spreading through the populace like fire through kindling. Men and women, yet untouched by the scourge, follow in the footsteps of the First Hunter by taking up arms in defense of their city. At night, they rove the streets, seeking prey. Seeking blood. The hunters, divided by infighting among various factions, barely suppress the onslaught. Only pockets of organized resistance remain.
One such hunter, a natural philosopher hailing from the east, has taken up residence in a crumbling mansion. From what was once one of the wealthiest districts of Yharnam, she conducts her increasingly esoteric experiments, all in the spirit of discovery and healing. She believes, with a surety that borders on faith, that she will be the one to find the answers to Yharnam’s dilemma. In the belly of her laboratory, chemicals bubble. Samples glisten. Bodies are heaped upon the table, waiting their turn for necropsy. Though she has said much the same in the past, she is certain she is close to a breakthrough. Soon. Soon.
I treat roleplay as a collaborative writing project betweenmultiple writers. Each writer (mun) begins the event with a list of charactersthey are solely responsible for. In an example, I’d be responsible for Fugaku and the other mun would beresponsible for, oh…let’s say Naruto.I would not be in charge of writing Naruto’s feelings, actions, or what hedoes. The other writer would do that, but would not write Fugaku’s parts. I would.
Next, we create a set of shared characters. For example, let’ssay this is an RP where little Naruto breaks a minor law and gets pulled into theKMPF station. We may both decide to create some Uchiha officer side-charactersto fill the story. We could continue to split (with my taking over the ones Iintroduced and the other writer taking over the ones they introduced), or wemay decide to share those characters. We’d communicate which method we’dprefer.
I prefer to plan my plots in advance via instant messengerwith the other writer(s) so we at least have a general idea of what we want toaccomplish. That way we’re generally on the same page and sort of have a scopefor where the story’s going to go. However, some people are perfectly fine withad libs and write their replies organically (as they appear).
The short version isthis: if you’re going to roleplay online, treat it like a story you’re writingalongside other writers. You’re all banding together to tell a story, so havefun with it—but be respectful to each other out-of-character!
Summary: Shino fights both Torune and his mother during the Edo Tensei event, and it is incredibly traumatizing.
Word Count: 2507
Shino Aburame prided himself on his adaptability. A ninja battlefield was a mad eruption of deadly, constantly shifting conditions even at the best of times. The abilities that shinobi could bring to bear were often strange and ubiquitously dangerous. One of his very best friends, a quiet and unassuming girl to the average observer, had a vision technique that could pierce solid matter and had a range that numbered in kilometers. Combined with a dexterity that boggled the mind, she and those of her family line used their kekkei genkai to attack the very chakra network of their enemies. The ease with which they could shut down their opponent’s bodies was, frankly, frightening.
And that was simply one jutsu, of an innumerable count. Shino was well aware that at any moment, even seemingly feeble opponents might pull a trump card and swing the flow of battle in their favor. It needn’t be something as dramatic as a flashy technique, either—there were hardened professionals who built their careers on nothing but the mastery of the basics, who nevertheless came out on top, despite deviating little from what might be considered “academy level”. In the right hands, a well-placed kunai was just as treacherous as a fireball. His was a volatile, unpredictable profession. Even the best laid plans must account for that fact.
Shinobi that couldn’t adjust to the situation as required simply weren’t suited to the career. He believed this firmly, and without malice. Just as he believed that with his temperament and intellect, he was well-suited.
But this…
Only his reflexes were saving him now.
“Losing focus? I know I taught you better than that, Rolypoly,” the woman said, launching herself forward. He dodged backwards, out of her range, and found his back planted against a large outcropping of stone, nowhere to go. Sloppy.
His environmental awareness had taken a toll. No, that was inaccurate. He was devastated… on all fronts.
In an instant, his assailant was upon him. Her heel came down with a crack like lightening, and Shino substituted himself for an insect clone he’d placed at the start of the confrontation. The woman’s kick passed through the clone’s throat, and a black spatter of kikaichū erupted from his double’s wound. Even though it wasn’t really his body, the image was like something from out of a nightmare. The entire situation was.
“You cannot win if you do not even try, Shino. You must fight back.” She drew a knife from a pouch, and twirled it in her hand, just as he’d seen her do a thousand times. His heart seized. Once, when he was just four or five, Shino had gotten into her weapons pouch and accidentally cut himself trying to replicate that trick. Kintsugi, seeing how he had managed to gouge his foot, kept her weapons sealed away at all times from then on—and continued to do so, well past the point where such precautions were necessary, long into his academy years.
Such a foolish child he had been. Shino still had the scar.
“Eyes forward, now. You will beat this,” she said.
He wasn’t so certain.
On those long nights where he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling and stew in the memories of Kintsugi’s death, he tried to imagine her at peace. That his mother was happy and whole, in some distant place. It was a thought that brought him some modicum of comfort. But there was no sense in avoiding the reality of the situation. This really was his mother, resurrected by the foul crime against nature that was Edo Tensei. She should be at rest, not dragged into a war by a traitorous psychopath.
And yet here she stood, revived, enslaved. A tool in the arsenal of a megalomaniac, forced to fight against the very nation she had lost her life defending. It was a despicable tactic, but he couldn’t fault its effectiveness.
He was falling all to pieces. This was agony.
She was almost exactly as he remembered. Beautiful, and so, so strong. He hadn’t seen her since he was a child, and… and he was grown now. She had always towered in his memories of her, but now she seemed so small.
“Mother,” he choked out, before his vision went white. Someone had struck a blow to his head from behind. Shino avoided the following blow, which might well have proved fatal.
It was Torune. Kintsugi had cloaked the sound of his approach with genjutsu.
“You must be more careful, Shino. My rinkaichū can make even a glancing blow deadly.”
Shino was well aware of that—had always been, even before his attempts to interbreed the rinkaichū with his own kikaichū, a task he had approached with the utmost care. Before his brother was taken—before Shino had a brother—when father first came home with a boy in a strange mask and declared that cousin Torune would be living with them from now on, the announcement had come with a great many warnings. Be careful not to touch his bare skin, Shino. Be careful not to handle his clothes or toys—not until he learns better control. He could recall how mother’s face would tense when he and Torune stood too closely for her liking, how father would gently separate them. But Torune had won them all over in the end, with his endless patience and gentle spirit.
Those precious few years where they had all been together, as a family, were his very happiest.
Shino whirled around, deflecting a knife thrown by his mother as he weaved through Torune’s guard, delivering a half-hearted blow with the blunt end of his kunai. He disengaged as quickly as possible, back on the defensive, and continued his retreat. It was like a parody of the spars they had done in the past—play-fighting, really. His mother always knew how to make a game of training.
A fire jutsu cut off Shino’s exit, and he body flickered up the rock face, taking a handful shuriken in the back as he ran—the metal mesh woven into his thick jacket absorbed most of the damage.
It wasn’t fair. He knew how pathetic that sounded, but this absolutely wasn’t fair. Bad enough to have lost them both once already—now he was to take their lives a second time, by his own hand?
This was too much to ask of anyone.
…and he only had one seal.
Shino cleared the ledge, vaulting over the rocks at the top and breaking into a sprint. Distance, he needed distance. As it was, the two of them were keeping him in the middle as they attacked, blocked his exits, and whittled away at him. His mother had been a jounin, and Torune, part of a branch of ANBU. In a way, it was impressive he had survived this long. If he didn’t know better, Shino would think they were holding back… but that simply wasn’t possible.
A wall of rinkaichū rose up in front of Shino, herding him to the left, into an obvious ambush. The rocky plateau seemed to warp under his feet, becoming the path leading up to their home, and the scent of some delicious home-cooked meal was in the air no no it was an illusion—
The kikaichū shocked him out of the genjutsu before it could take, but even that short glimpse had him hesitating long enough for Kintsugi to close the distance between them. She slashed up at his cheek, going for his eyes, and out of surprise from the sheer viciousness of her strike, he retaliated with an absolutely brutal kick. He could feel her ribs snapping. She smiled proudly at him even as she slid backwards. Had she been trying to goad him into such a counterattack?
“A few more blows like that, and this will be over. I know you can do it, Rolypoly.”
Why did she keep saying that? Didn’t she see that he couldn’t?
Then Torune approached from behind, and Shino was trapped all over again. At least until a bright yellow flash appeared, grabbed him under the arm, and hauled him away—just as Kintsugi and Torune’s attacks converged, where he had been standing a moment before. Shino peered at the figure, glowing with a familiar chakra.
“Naruto?” he asked. The boy shook his head before setting him down.
“A shadow clone,” his classmate explained.
Shino came shakily to his feet.
“I sensed your chakra and it felt like you were in trouble, so I came running,” the clone of Naruto said, grinning. “Looks like I came just in time, huh?”
Shino grimaced. He was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Still, some part of him wanted to smile—Naruto coming to his rescue, remembering his chakra signature… it was a far cry from the boy who didn’t even remember his name, let alone the prankster he’d been in the academy. Shino was glad his friend was here, even if it was only a shadow clone.
“Those reanimated guys… they looked a little like you,” the clone said. Shino nodded grimly.
“It would be odd if they did not. Why, you ask? Because they are my family.”
The shadow’s clone’s slight smile faded. The look he gave Shino then was sad and understanding, full of empathy.
“The woman… my mother, is a jounin level combatant, specializing in ninjutsu and genjutsu. The other is Torune. The jutsu he’s preparing, a poisonous cloud of insects, will devastate our forces if it is allowed to trigger—these same insects cover his body as well, so you must be careful not to touch him.”
The clone rubbed the back of his head, as if pondering the situation.
“Well, I go poof if I get hit anyway, so all I have to do is not get hit, ya know? Not too different from normal. And, hey, Shino. How about I distract the purple one for a while? Buy you a little time?”
Shino would never admit this out loud, but Naruto had developed some measure of… emotional perceptiveness. He was deeply grateful.
“Thank you,” he said, and Naruto flashed him a grin and a thumbs up before taking off in Torune’s direction.
He was alone for only a short while before Kintsugi appeared.
“Was that the Uzumaki boy? It is good to see he made something of himself.”
Shino almost laughed at her conversational tone. She sounded as if— as if they just happened to not have seen each other in a while, and she had stopped by to catch up on gossip.
“He is surprisingly formidable,” he replied. It wasn’t quite as convincing. There was too much pain in his voice.
“Then he should have no trouble holding Torune off, for a time,” she said, running through a blindingly quick series of hand seals. “You must finish this now.”
She was right, he knew.
Shino took a deep breath, and steeled himself. His kikaichū were an ineffective countermeasure against Torune, but his allies would have no such trouble facing Kintsugi.
The fire jutsu his mother unleashed, a white-hot whip that snaked along the ground, found no target but the open air. Shino practically flew past her, scattering kikai to dampen his chakra signature, utilizing every stealth technique he had ever learned as he hid himself among the rocks and crevices of the uneven terrain. As he darted through cover, insect clone after insect clone emerged, forming a rough circle around Kintsugi. Her fire whip crackled, slicing through two of his clones, then three, leaving the air stinking of burnt chitin. The beetles unharmed by her attack swarmed her, draining her chakra in tiny increments even as she fled faster than they could follow.
Fled, right into his hastily constructed traps. Most of them she managed to avoid. Some misfired, sending their projectiles sailing harmlessly into the distance. But a handful successfully ensnared her, and that was enough.
Here, a length of razor wire cut into the flesh of her calf. There, a kunai buried itself deep into her shoulder. She seemed to be trying to suppress her cries of pain, all for his sake. It was astonishingly difficult to watch.
Not as difficult as it would be to inflict such damage with his own hands, however. And as his supplies rapidly depleted, he knew he would soon have to do just that. He only had the single sealing tag, and it must be applied manually.
But first, he had to disable her.
His chance came when his mother stumbled, the injury to her leg finally catching up with her. He tossed his last knife at her uninjured leg, giving away his position to hopefully immobilize her.
“Please forgive me,” he muttered, as his remaining clones burst, sending their payload of destruction beetles ripping and tearing their way into Kintsugi’s limp form.
“Oh, Rolypoly,” she said, right behind his ear.
She had substituted away—
A knife buried itself in his gut, and twisted.
“There is nothing at all to forgive. Do what you must to this resurrected body. But no matter what, you must live, Shino. Do you understand?”
He only had a moment.
There was no time to say any of what he wanted. No time to tell her how much she meant to him. No time to tell her about his team, about his accomplishments, about how Father was faring, about the state of her jewelry store. There was so much he wanted to say. So much to discuss, from petty little topics, to the most profound.
But he only had a moment.
He turned and wrapped his arms around her, pressing the red seal into the small of her back. He could feel blood oozing from his wound, but didn’t let go of her, not even to apply pressure to it. For a moment, Kintsugi grappled with him, and Shino could almost trick himself into believing she was returning his embrace.
Almost.
Then, travelling outwards from the seal, white script began to rapidly cover his mother’s body, and she went limp his arms. Suddenly, he couldn’t support her weight. When he released her, she crumpled, and was still.
There was nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing.
He clutched at his jacket.
His mother didn’t move. She— she wasn’t moving anymore. He was shaking.
Shino fell to his knees and let out a low, distressed noise—even to his own ears, he sounded like a wounded animal. Gently, he touched his mother’s face.
“Mother?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
She was unresponsive, her eyes glassy as she stared through him.
“M-mother?” he repeated. “Can you hear me?”
…
There was no time for this now, he knew.
Sparing Kintsugi one last glance, Shino Aburame ran—either he would help his friends put an end to this war and succeed, or he would join Torune and his mother.
No matter how it ended, there was no room in his hearts for regrets.
Reblog if you’re alright with creating new verses or AU’s to interact with other RPer’s!
While your muses might not be from the same universe or be able to interact easily, things can always be worked out if the muns collaborate and talk with each other!
alternatively send ‘ + ‘ after the symbol for the roles to be reversed where possible !
✘ = hugging them .
Δ = playing with their hair .
❤ = kissing them .
₪ = asking them out for dinner .
☀ = giving them a gift of ___ ( asker’s choice ) .
♘ = stabbing them .
♕ = bowing down before them .
♒ = lying to them .
✿ = buying them flowers .
☾ = being found shirtless .
♢ = reading them a story .
☂ = giving them their jumper to keep warm .
✎ = speaking in a different language .
✏ = teaching them a different language .
▄ = telling them a joke .
♬ = singing to them .
☹ = insulting a loved one .
ஐ = slapping them .
✂ = threatening them .
❃ = dancing with them .
▤ = falling asleep on them .
☮ = waking them up after a nightmare .
♣ = discovering them crying .
回 = patching a wound .
✮ = stargazing .
▓ = caught stealing their belongings .
☽ = wandering alone at night .
♡ = complimenting them .
≡ = offering a place to stay overnight .
☢ = falling over .
✦ = being well-dressed .
❂ = wiping blood off their face .
◎ = taking care of them while ill .
☁ = being caught in the middle a storm with them .
⇕ = holding their hand .
↱ = being lost with them .
☠ = pushing them against a wall .
“Fwa, I will be fine Shibi!” Hand swatting in a dismissive manner towards her husband’s concerns. She’d be fine on her own, there would surely be other clan members about and not only that there would be other ninja there who’s agenda would most likely be there to protect civilians in case of something actually taking place. Or so she hoped they would, as time went on it started to feel like Civilians weren’t actually important to the system or economy even though they fiercely were. (They were usually the job providers after all for the Shinobi, and how else would most these ninja have supplements if not for the farmers.)
Feelings aside on the subject, a gentle hand squeezed and a quick brush of lips before he went off on patrol to show she meant well. A loving hug to her son prior to their separate departures, he needed to be there a little earlier and she needed to do a quick check up on the shop.
To see everything was setup before the spectacular began, not that see was really interested in seeing the younger generation fight- but she did want to see her boy and support him as much as she could. It would have to be twice as hard since only one parent would technically be there. Never fully knew if Shibi had an extra eye on it all or not. (He was upset though he’d miss it.) They would probably all discuss the events over dinner though so not all was lost.
Once all was checked, she found a comfortable enough seat with a well enough view in the bleachers, waited for it to start and bared witness to the fights.
First round Uzumaki Naruto vs Hyūga Neji, the blond could most certainly raddle on and the Hyūga was well enough verse in his clans techniques. Otherwise uninteresting, felt she could have brought some commissions with her and worked throughout the so called fight.
Second round Uchiha Sasuke vs Gaara of the Sand, a disappointed few for many when the Uchiha never showed- though they were to postpon it until he arrived. What battle is placed on hold just because one side never showed? None that she ever heard of. People must have really wanted to see these two fight even though…the Suna nin seemed…off.
Third round Aburame Shino vs Kankuro of the Sand, the round she was more interested in seeing. A scream of cheers held back deep within her, forcefully trying not to make a scene even though the desire was strong in showing her favor. That was until they forfeited, Kankuro forfeited- like as if it hadn’t actually mattered towards him. Going from ecstatic to heartbroken within a matter of seconds.
This fight mattered so much to her boy, if he had at least won in a fair fight he could feel he proved himself worthy as an heir- get even more into his father’s graces though he needed not too.
Fourth round in and she had lost interest in any of it. More concerned with how Shino was doing, even though he’d fight in his next match- it must certainly be bothering him, ergo it was bothering her as well. She wanted to find a way down there before his next match and comfort him.
Then the Uchiha appeared and- sometime around then Kintsugi fell asleep.
“Hai!” Jolted awake by a sudden pulse, stirring and shocking herself wide and aware. She sat up, a sharp breath inhailed as she looked about her surroundings quickly- stopping only when she sees the semi familiar face of Fumio. (It’s the glasses and scarf that tip her off, all the Aburame’s had small and intricate details about them- just had to remember them.)
Blinking to reassure her guess was correct, only speaking when she was sure. “Fumio?” Her voice hushed as the sounds of kunai sparked in contact to one another help fill the air with noise. “Fumio, what is happening?” Ring covered hands quickly go to grasp at Fumio’s shoulders.
Fumio, vaguely pleased at being recognized by name, gently pried the matriarch’s hands off her shoulders. If they were discovered, she’d need full mobility.
“Kintsugi-sama, please keep your head down. The village is under attack, and there’s fighting going on in the stands. The enemy used a genjutsu to knock most of the spectators unconscious, and I’ve just woken you up.” She didn’t want to frighten the woman, but there was no sugar-coating it. This was a shinobi village. Everyone knew the risks of living here. She just hoped the civilians knew where the shelters were—really, they ought to be drilled on this sort of scenario.
That was something to bring up with a superior, provided the village was still standing at the end of all this.
And here she was, ready to avoid her duty to the village to protect a single woman.
She was a jounin now. By field promotion and circumstances beyond her control, fresh blood and untried, but still. Evacuating civilians was chuunin work at best, and she knew she was needed elsewhere. But abandoning Kintsugi—abandoning the clan—was absolutely out of the question. Fumio was torn, her body rigid and tense, her kikaichu churning nervously beneath. She looked at Kintsugi, still the very picture of noble elegance despite what terror she was surely feeling, the Aburame clan sigil dangling in gold from a chain around her neck. Their eyes met behind dark and rose glass, and Fumio made her choice. She would get Kintsugi to safety, so she could join the defenses as soon as possible. The resulting calm was immediate. She had an objective now—there was no room for hesitance.
The mission parameters thusly defined, she raised her head a fraction so she could gather intel while she debriefed Kintsugi. Most of the skirmishes were too far away for her to get a good look at the invaders, but what she could see was consistent with Suna’s uniform. It certainly explained the oddness of Shino’s opponent’s behavior, if the boy was aware of what was going to happen. Even now, supposed merchants were shedding their garb and revealing themselves as enemy shinobi. Was Konoha really so careless? Or had those Suna dullards just become clever?
“We suspected that someone might make trouble while we were stretched thin for the exams. It would seem Suna betrayed us. There are contingencies in place for such an occurrence, so please try not to worry.” Fumio hoped this information was reassuring. She was using the voice she normally reserved for scared and difficult clients. They tended not to act in their own best interests, to put it lightly. What she knew of Kintsugi’s character didn’t suggest she was given to fits of panic, but she needed the woman to trust her.
Across the stadium, the Kage’s box was empty… had the Kazekage attacked? It was brazen, but the Hokage wasn’t called the God of Shinobi for nothing. The old man could hold his own, even against the likes of Subaku no Rasa. Ah, there was ANBU now, flitting over the roof! This area was about to become even more dangerous in short order.
“I’ve sent a beetle after your son. He doesn’t seem to be in the immediate vicinity, so it’s probable he’s evacuated already. As it isn’t safe to linger here, I suggest we head into the building and out the nearest window, avoiding enemy engagement. If we’re spotted, I promise I will defend you with my life.”
As if to illustrate the immense risk of the endeavor, an errant kunai plunged into the seat where Kintsugi had been sitting a minute before, and embedded itself so deeply that an inch of the blade was visible from their side of the wood.
Fumio held out her hand and tried to project… if not confidence, then at least resolve. Fumio’s death, before any harm came to the Aburame matriarch. Her life was all she had to offer.
Niju here with a lack of self control-i mean-remade Kiba blog. I’m semi selective and very oc friendly. If you’d be interested in rping with a slightly canon divergent and slightly headcanon based kiba inuzuka-feel free to give this a like or reblog so I can check you out!
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