#Take a breather! Go drink a smoothie outside! Take a well earned sleep! look after yourself

[kyriolex]

Fog

I wrote this for the "Worst Fear" day of the JuneBug2k17 challenge. I tried to put the fic in the blog’s submit box, but I couldn’t figure out how to place a ‘read more’ line in there, so I’m posting like normal and using tags instead (sorry).

 This takes place in an AU where there is no chakra ghost conspiracy, leaving Shino without an outlet for his existential crisis. Prepare for lots of unnecessary angst.

           Shino Aburame wakes up feeling like the fog outside his window: cold, damp from night sweats, and full of hazy, half-awake thoughts. A light tune rings from his phone, reminding him that he has to be at the Academy in ninety minutes. Shino pushes his bed covers off. He would trade his right hand for another hour of sleep, but he has a job to do. He might not do it well, but he needs to do it all the same.

           "He's not as dependable as the other teachers…"

           "Is there anything someone like him can teach us?"

           "Even his shadow has more presence than him."

           Shino squeezes the sheets between his fists. Yesterday had been a disaster. He'd set up a party for Mitsuki, hoping the festivities would overshadow any ill feelings about the boy's Sound Village heritage.  He'd bought snacks and cake from the grocery store, since no one would have trusted an Aburame's cooking. Then he'd grabbed balloons and stuffed animals in the school supply closet, left over from another class's party.

           The stuffed animals had been his undoing. He'd thought that dancing puppets would be the finishing touch that would win the kids over. But as soon as Shiemi hugged one of the bears, the bugs inside leaked out. The whole field exploded in chaos. The children screamed and swatted at his bugs, who flew in a directionless panic. Even after Shino recovered his hive, the children gave him a wide berth. Some watched him in fear, others in disgust. In the span of five minutes, he'd transformed from a teacher into a freak.

           Shino isn't sure how he'll face his class today. Should he pretend nothing happened? Bow down and apologize? Give a lesson on his kikaichu and why they aren't anything to fear?

           He'll figure it out on the train ride to school. In the meantime, he needs to get dressed. He walks across his bedroom, floor chilling his bare feet. His bugs help him unbutton his nightclothes and carry them to the laundry basket.

           As he slips on his undershirt, Shino catches his reflection in the corner of his eyes. He frowns. He looks like a scarecrow, with bony shoulders, twiggy legs, and hair the texture of straw.

           He used to be fit. When he was a ninja, his body had been lean but muscled. He could run for miles without breaking a sweat. Back then, he'd considered his physique to be merely adequate. He hadn’t known how good he had it.

           After the war, peace came. Hinata got married, Kiba got his own genin team, and Shino got unemployed. It was hard enough for a team of trackers to find work in peacetime – it was impossible for Shino to get hired as a one-man unit. 

           His father approached him, saying that now that Shino wasn't in daily danger of dying, he could dedicate himself to his duties as an heir. Specifically, becoming a host for the clans' more endangered bug species: the water-breathers, the metal-eaters, the web-weavers, and so on. If, say, all the clan's kidaichu wielders suddenly died, the Aburame would use the kidaichu in Shino's body to repopulate the species.

           Every few months, the clan implanted a new species into his body. Each bug had it's own needs regarding how much chakra it ate, when it ate, and so on. Every hour of the day, at least one species of bugs would be feeding off Shino's life force.

           His hard-earned muscles melted off his frame. His stamina dropped in half.  By age 20, a cloak of fatigue pushed his shoulders into a perpetual hunch. His father had never had these problems – he'd been able to host all of the bug species and raise Shino and work as a full-time jonin, all without letting his body wither into a skeleton. But Shino was half the man his father was. He could be a good ninja or a good host, but not both.

           Shino, not willing to admit his failure, wanted to stay on the field. His clan duties were a priority, certainly, but he wanted to be more than a chakra farm for bugs. He wanted to contribute to the village as a person, as Shino. His father, worried for his health, demanded he quit working altogether and rest at home. The two of them came to a compromise in which Shino took on a civilian job at the Academy. It would allow him to prioritize his chakra for the bugs, but also have a life outside the compound.

           After retiring from the field, Shino's body recovered to a manageable weight. However, he never returned to his old strength. He doubts he ever will. Thankfully, his green jacket hides his physique. The material hangs stiffly from his shoulders, making Shino look bigger than he really is. The pants are also intentionally baggy. The only pieces of clothing that genuinely fit him are his shoes.

           He walks to the small kitchen down the hall. His breakfast consists of eggs, vegetarian sausage, toast, and a protein shake. He buys the shakes from the Akimichi clan, who use it for rapid calorie recovery. The protein powder sticks to his tongue, making everything else taste like cement, so Shino always drinks the smoothie last. He'd prefer not to drink it at all, but whenever he skips it, he gets dizzy halfway through the morning.

           Shino slides open the door to his porch and carries his breakfast outside. His cottage is located in his clan's compound on the outskirts of the village. It takes him a forty-minute train ride to get to the Academy, but the long commute is worth it as long as he can come home to nature.

           The fog rolls in through the trees like an ocean tide. Dew settles on the plants in his garden. A dozen ladybugs gather under the tomato leaves, hiding from the damp. Shino breathes in the cold, clean air.

           Most of his colleagues are probably starting their day watching television or reading the news on their phones. But Shino likes to rest his eyes, so instead he admires the ultraviolet patterns on his silverweed and chameleon flowers. The flowers look plain to the average person, but with his clan's special eyesight, he can see their true beauty.

           After breakfast, he ties up his hair and puts on his visor. The colors in his vision immediately dim, and the ultraviolet disappears altogether. It's a pity that he can't look at Konoha in its full glory, but if he went into the city without his visor, the neon signs would give him a migraine within the hour.

           He grabs his book bag, locks his cottage, and walks to the train station. He arrives just as the train pulls in. Shino squeezes his way to a crowded car. An old woman shoves him aside as she grabs the last seat. He barely has time to grab the hand straps before the train shoots forward.

           He sends the woman a pointed stare, but she's already absorbed in her phone. When he was a child, Shino could have walked in here and had two seats to himself - the other patrons would have been too disgusted to sit near him. These days, nobody recognizes the symbols on his jacket. They don't know who he is and they don’t care. Being a nobody feels a little better than being a nightmare, but only a little.

           Nobody talks on the train, but it's still flooded with noise. Shino can hear the rap music leaking through a man's headphones, the tapping fingers on a teenager's phone, the gurgling of a cranky infant. The sounds crisscross through his ears, making it hard to hear his own thoughts. He tells his bugs in his chest to hum at a C sharp. Their buzzing doesn't drown out the noise, but it does give him something to focus on.

           The train runs through a corridor of skyscrapers. Even with the visor on, all the flashing lights disorient him. He closes his eyes. His body was built for a dimmer, quieter world than this. Sometimes he feels like a bug in a storm, flying through winds meant for larger creatures.

           He opens his eyes at the exact wrong time. The train leaps from the shadows of the buildings, and the daylight nearly blinds him. The rails run above the fog, so Shino has a clear view of the village below. Mist floods the streets so that only the colored rooftops show. Courier ninja leap from building to building, disappearing into the fog when they've found their destination.

           One hill rises above the fog. It shows the homes of movie stars, entrepreneurs, and of course, the Hokage's family. Hinata's home sits at the top of that sunny place, glowing with the glory of domesticity. A purple dot moves through the garden, which can only be Hinata herself. She's watering the plants, surely, protecting them against the harsh sun.

           Nostalgia rips through him. When they were children, he and Hinata spent almost every day together, sparring in the fields, tracking down criminals, eating around a campfire. Kurenai said Team 8 was meant to become Konoha's premier tracking team, so Shino and Hinata worked themselves to the bone, preparing for a future that never came. He used to wake up every morning to watch Hinata's eyes flutter open and her nose crinkle as she yawned. Now he would finish the week without seeing her face.

           He didn't resent her. Team 8 would have split apart even if she hadn't left to marry Naruto. All of the old genin teams dissolved in the end. Team Gai fractured due to Neji's death. Team Asuma cracked when Shikamaru became the Hokage's assistant. Even the legendary Team Kakashi fell apart after all the members got married. It was natural for people to go their separate ways as they grew closer to their dreams.  

           Even if Hinata had stayed, Shino could only have delayed his clan duties for so long. What would those extra years on Team 8 have bought him? More experience for a job he wouldn't keep? More memories to miss once he was alone?

           …A chance to confess, maybe. To tell Hinata about his impossible, foolish love for her. Shino had hinted at his feelings through compliments and favors, but she always misunderstood his intentions. His monotone voice and unexpressive face had made even poetry sound dry. But perhaps, given enough time, some of his emotions could have made it through.

           Hinata would have rejected him regardless. But at least she could have acknowledged his feelings, made them real in some way. At least Shino would have been able to banish the 'what ifs' from his head. Instead his attraction faded after her marriage, withering into a vague fondness, until Shino wondered if he truly loved her to begin with.  

           The track curves, and Hinata disappears from his sight. The train rolls into the station, squealing as it jolts to a stop. The car doors open. The passengers pour outside, then disappear into the mist.

           Shino walks under a boulevard of trees. The fog turns his fellow pedestrians into silhouettes. There aren't many people on this road, and the ones who are here do not talk to each other. If he keeps his eyes on the ground, Shino can pretend he is alone. Even the illusion of solitude helps him decompress from the noise of the train.

           He reaches the Academy after a few blocks. There are no office buildings in the area, so sunlight shines on the school unimpeded. The fog rolls out of the shadows, washing in through the large gate. Inside the yard, sunlight burns through the fog. The mist evaporates rapidly, but still it glides forward. By the time it reaches the main doors, the fog has sunk below the children's ankles.

           Shino sees a few of his students sitting in the shadow of the gate. Boruto, Shikadai, and Inojin are playing that ENS game, the one with real people on the cards. Shino hates that game. It teaches the kids to see people as objects, trading their parents and teachers like the daimyo used to trade mercenaries. Even worse is when the cards show martyrs from the last war, such as Neji Hyuuga or Muta Aburame. Perhaps Shino is old-fashioned, but he thinks it's disrespectful to sell photos of the dead for profit. That's why he's banned kids from trading the cards on school grounds.

           Shino is about to scold the boys when he hears his name in the conversation. Boruto tosses a card into a pile by his feet. "Frickin' Shino-sensei. Why's he keep popping up all the time? I've got, like, 30 of him."

           Inojin throws more cards into the pile. "He's a C-rank like Aunt Tenten. They don't call the cards 'common' for nothing."

           Shikadai leans against the brick wall. "Who cares about his rarity level? His stats and his ability suck. He's useless."

           Shino balls his fists. There's no need to get upset. The kids are talking about his card, not him.

           Inojin peers at one of the fallen cards. "But the real Shino-sensei is actually way stronger, right?" Shino feels a rush of affection for the otherwise caustic child.

           Shikadai snorts. "I doubt it. He's probably just like the card says." Boruto and Inojin snicker. Shino's affection disappears.

           Shino's hive buzzes in his chest. His ribs vibrate. A few anxious bugs leave his body, crawling out his collarbones and down his arms. He's grateful for the long sleeves to hide his lapse in self-control.

           Is this really what he spent all those years training for? To have his accomplishments forgotten? His clan's abilities insulted? Shino still has the kidaichu. Even with his diminished chakra, he could kill an opponent with one touch. Had the card company taken THAT into account when they ranked him?

           More bugs skitter up his neck. Shino takes a deep breath and orders the bugs back inside his body. He needs to regain control. It's just a card game, after all. There's no reason to feel…to feel…

           What is he feeling? Anger? Shame? Sadness? He can't put a name to it, but if his bugs are reacting this much, it must be something strong.

           Shino wants nothing more than to turn around and ride the train home. He wants to brew himself some tea, meditate in his garden, and then nap the day away. But he can't run from his own students. He has an important job to do. The children need him.

           …Shino tells himself that, but he knows it isn't true. There are plenty of teachers in Konoha. Most of them could do the job better than him. If he quit tomorrow, the children would likely be relieved to have a competent teacher.

           The truth is, he needs them. If Shino quit his job, he'd lose any reason to leave his house. He'd lounge in his garden every day, letting his bugs drain all the chakra they pleased. His clan members would bring him groceries from the city. They'd probably cook for him if he asked. He wouldn't need to comb his hair or keep in shape – his only responsibility would be to stay alive until his father died.

           Shino doesn't want to spend his life merely existing. He wants to be remembered. He doesn't have the strength to accomplish anything on the battlefield. He doesn't have the charisma to win himself a wife and make a family. And to be honest, he doesn't have enough personality to keep himself in his friends' thoughts – he has to use teaching as an excuse to call them up.

           But he can still throw a kunai. He can do basic algebra. He can read from a textbook. Any adult can do those things, of course, but few are willing to pass on the skills. Even someone like Shino can become vital to a child's education. The kids may not respect him, but they will remember him, if only because of time they spend together.

           That's enough of a legacy for Shino. It has to be enough. He has nothing else.

           Shino strides through the gate. The boys see him and scramble to hide their ENS cards. Shino steps on one of his own cards, crunching his face beneath his sandal. Sunlight blazes down on his face, but he refuses to close his eyes. Like the fog, Shino will keep moving forward until he has nothing left to give.