#autistic inojin

[lumiesian]

" the ink pot "

pairing: shikadai nara x  inojin yamanaka

warnings: autistic!inojin, mentions of struggles with autistic traits (e.g. social isolation, difficulty communicating and making friends, bullying, sensory overload), non-harmful stimming, poorly translated Arabic lol

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: inojin felt like a pot of spilt ink. (can be read as either mutual crushing or an established relationship!)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45974221

Inojin felt like a pot of spilt ink. Messy, dark, staining everything it touches, waiting in a puddle untouched because everyone knows that cleaning it up will only make more of a mess than the spill already caused. ‘Let’s just wait for it to dry on its own!’ people would say, ‘I’m sure someone else will wipe it up later!’ they’d think, or ‘If I touch it’ll stain my hands!’, and they’d be right. Inojin knew this.

It was always inevitable that the ink would spill, the painter was a mess after all, always trying to create bigger and better but never upgrading his tools. Inojin had been trying his best with what he already had, but with constant reminders that his best would never be good enough, he had to aspire to be better.

It started with his voice, it wasn’t good enough. So he tried better, he enunciated his words clearer, he altered his tone to be more high pitched, he’d speak faster when others did, or he remembered to be quiet when the room was small. Eventually, he got the hang of it, every conversation feeling like a game of Karaoke- make sure to hit the notes, don't forget the words, remember to take the breath here, but not there. 

But it wasn’t enough, what about his face? It was all wrong and broken. He didn’t smile when he was supposed to, his eyebrows didn't move enough, and his eyes were creepy and unnatural. ‘Smile, Inojin!’ he heard it often enough, but once he got the hang of it… ‘Stop smiling all the time, it’s creepy!’, so he reeled it back in. It was strange, his eye contact was too intense, but then it was too avoidant, his eyebrows were too stiff, but then they were too animated, everything his face did was always wrong.

His Mother wasn’t any help; ‘Just be yourself baby!’, was easier said than done when no one liked ‘himself’. Inojin was blunt and to the point, he got excited over Art, Fashion, Flowers, and Video Games, but couldn't share a conversation with others- always needing to talk about his interest, confused when others didn’t share them. Inojin was a problem, rebranded over and over again; He talks too much in class, he doesn't share enough in class, he doesn't play well with others, he spends too much time playing alone, he’s too blunt, he’s too vague, he’s too loud, he’s too quiet, he moves around too much, he won’t pay attention- Inojin was exhausted.

And his exhaustion turned to anger, and his anger turned to sadness, and his sadness turned to nothing. His parents didn’t know how to help him as he fell into a simple routine of ‘eat, sleep, repeat’ rejecting his father's offers to go outside and paint together, and ignoring his mother's requests to go shopping together- activities he used to love more than anything. He used to be such a happy kid. Back when it was just him and his parents, there were no expectations for how he should or shouldn't look, there was no wrong and right tone, and it didn’t matter if he swung his feet during mealtimes, or twirled his hair during conversations, or shook his hands watching TV- everything was good back then. His Dad assured him nothing he was doing was ever wrong, and his Mama encouraged him to just be himself- back when being himself didn’t make everyone hate him.

“What should we do?” Inojin heard his Mother, Ino, whisper from the kitchen, it’d been 3 weeks of Inojin refusing to attend the Academy or see his friends, and he knew it upset his parents. Still, he didn’t particularly know what to do about that.

“I asked Sakura but she said there’s nothing they can do for him if it’s psychological…” Sai, Inojin’s father, concurred. He stopped listening after that, pulling his knees up to his chest and gently tapping on his earlobes rhythmically to distract himself from it all. His phone buzzed on his bedside table and he checked it reluctantly.

Shikadai: Hey what was that old designer you told me about, from Sunagakure? With that Purple line?

Inojin let out a sigh and contemplated leaving his best friend on read, before replying anyway;

Inojin: I know what you're doing. You don’t need to pretend to be interested.

The blond pulled his quilt cover-up over his body and tried to ignore the semi-frequent buzzes of his phone next to him. He didn’t need to know that that’s what Shikadai was doing, the past had taught him well enough; when girls at the Academy asked him about a flower he liked and then giggled and side-eyed one another when he’d give them answers. When boys said they liked his new sneakers he took the opportunity to explain why he picked them- the looks they gave him… It hurt.

‘Go away,’ he thought, ‘Just go away… Stop pretending…’ Inojin grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tried to ignore the ever-increasing noise; Bz…Bzz… Bzzzz… BZZZZZ… BUZZ!!

“Ugh!” Whined the boy, picking up his phone and throwing it across his room. It was followed by something shattering, as Inojin sat up quickly to glance at his desk. The black ink pot had broken and leaked all over his desk. He sucked in a sharp breath and bit down on his bottom lip as he slowly got up and walked towards it. The ink had splattered out onto everything; it had soaked into the wood of the desk, desecrated artworks he'd worked on with his father, stained fabric scraps his mother was helping him sew together, wrecked the band of his hitai-ate and splattered over photo frames of him and his loved ones.

It wasn’t a big deal, really, he could get a new desk, he could make new artworks with his Dad, start new projects with his Mama, could get a new forehead protector, could wipe down the photo frames, it could all be fixed easily enough. But it didn’t feel like it, it felt like the final straw in a never-ending series of failures and disappointments. His knees gave way under him as his eyes began to feel heavy. Thick tears streamed down his cheeks as he hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face into them.

The noise was too loud, telling him he wasn’t good enough, that he never would be. The pot would stay broken and the ink would stay spilt, and anyone who tried to fix it would just make a mess. It felt like forever had passed on the cold hard floor, and the sky had turned from mid-afternoon to early dusk, tears just as hot and heavy as they were when they first began to fall.

A soft knock fell on his door, followed by a gentle voice, “Inojin? Can I come in?” It was Shikadai, there was no mistaking the familiar voice. Inojin had half a mind to turn him away, yell ‘Go away!’, or ‘I don’t want to talk!’, but no words came out and he continued his silent grieving, “I’m coming in…” Shikadai whispered before slowly opening the door, being sure to shut it behind him before turning to look around.

It was getting dark, the lilac sky outside giving the room a soft glow, illuminating Inojin’s pale face and watery eyes. Shikadai had a large duffle bag in one hand and gently placed it down on the floor before approaching Inojin, crouching down beside him, “Inojin? It’s okay…”

“No, it’s not!” Inojin sobbed out, “Go away! You don’t need to pretend to be my friend anymore! I know you're only here ‘cause our parents are friends!” The blond choked out, causing Shikdai to furrow his brows and sit down on the floor beside his friend, slowly stretching out a hand to rest on Inojin’s shoulder. “I talk too much about stupid things, my face is all messed up and nobody likes me! I can’t be good enough!”

“Hey… that’s not true…” Shikadai whispered, bringing his other hand around to hold Inojin’s. “I’m here because I’m your best friend and I love and care about you, and so does Chocho, she loves and cares about you so much, we’re both really worried…” Shikadai comforted, “I love listening to you talk about things, and I think your face is the nicest in the world… I’m sorry you’ve felt so awful…”

“It’s not your fault I ruin everything…” Inojin whispered, squeezing onto Shikadais hand and using his free hand to push his hair behind his ear- it’d begun to stick to his face from all the wet tears, “I can’t be what you guys need, I can’t be a good friend, I can't be normal… I spilt ink everywhere Shikadai- and if we try and clean it up it’ll just get on you too…”

“Yeah?” Shikadai glanced at Inojin’s desk before shooting the blond a lopsided smile and pulling his hand away to wipe the tears off of Inojin’s face, Shikadai knew this wasn’t about the ink, “Well… it might be a drag, but I think it’s easy enough to clean up if you ask for help… It’s just ink…” Shikadai’s thumb lingered on the skin below Inojin’s eye, admiring the boy's smooth skin and feeling his heart break at the purple eye bags that tugged on his red and teary eyes.

Inojin’s bottom lip began to tremble and the blond was sobbing again- his whole body wracked with shakes as his nose began to run, before Shikadai even had time to react Inojin had thrown himself into Shikadai’s arms. Letting out a heavy sigh Shikadai wrapped his arms around Inojin and began gently petting his blond hair; “Rajul jamil…” Shikadai softly whispered as Inojin’s sobs began to quiet down, “Ana mahzuz jidana bik…” 

Inojin loved it when Shikadai spoke Sunan, he spoke it with an air of elegance and maturity that made Inojin’s cheeks heat in an unfamiliar way, and his chest flutter with something akin to butterflies- it made Inojin want to jump up and down and dance. Inojin allowed himself to be held for a few moments longer before finally breaking the silence, “What’s in the bag?” he asked as he slowly sat up, looking into Shikadai's kind eyes and gently tapping his kneecaps with his fingers, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the green-eyed genius. Shikadai had the action memorised, the way Inojin’s pointer finger had to make contact and lift before his middle finger could, then his ring finger, and finally his little finger- a structured pattern repeating on a loop.

“I love when you do that…” Shikadai mused, he thought it was cute, “Well I was telling Ma about that designer you liked, I figured she might know them since she would've been in her teens when they were popular and she was still living in Suna back then… and not only did she know them, apparently she loved ‘em…” Shikadai smiled gently and reached over, sliding the bag across the floor between the two boys and unzipping it, “None of these fit her anymore, and she’s not planning on having any more kids… We both thought maybe you’d like these?”

Inojin sniffled loudly, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve before finally allowing his face to relax into what felt like content happiness, “Did you know the designer had a whole line inspired by Kazekage Gaara? She incorporated textures into the line, which skyrocketed Sunagakure’s popularity around the Land of Wind!”

“Yeah? Isn’t that so cool!” Shikadai agreed, wiping another stray tear from Inojin’s face, “Did you know that my Mother commissioned the designer for a Kimono once? This was after she’d had me though, it still fits her but I’m sure she’d show it to you sometime!” 

Inojin’s face lit up even brighter as his hands shot up in fists beside his face, seemingly shaking with pure joy, “Really?”

“Mmhm, it incorporated black Higanbana into the design, to represent the Nara Clan too…” Shikadai grinned at the cute way Inojin’s arms moved, the plan to cheer up his favourite blond had been a success, “Oh! Speaking of flowers… What did you say your favourite was?”

“Oh! Easily the Calla Lily! They kinda look like little ink pots!” Inojin gushed, reaching up onto his desk to grab the vase of fresh Calla Lillies that had somehow managed to avoid any splatters of ink. They were the same colour purple as Inojin’s shirt, and they smelt of cleanliness and elegance, “Mama got some ink pots custom-made for Dad one Anniversary, they’re shaped like them!”

“Oh really? That’s awesome… What time of year do they bloom?” Shikadai inquired, and Inojin knew what Shikadai was doing, but he funnily didn’t seem to mind anymore. Maybe Shikadai was right, other people are a ‘drag’, maybe it is just ink. Maybe it’s easier to clean up with the help of others, and maybe it didn’t matter if everyone liked him; Shikadai did, and right now, it felt like that could be enough.

Translation Notes: "Beautiful man..." "I am so shaken by your existence/lucky to have you…"

[cartoonrival]

fujoshi: inojin

transgender allegory: boruto

autistic individual: mitsuki

struggler: sarada

[hesmiledlikeaweatherman]

Prompt: Inojin's first word.

am I going to project my Sai and Inojin are autistic hc on this? yes, yes I am.

As far as Ino was concerned, her son was perfect.

His pale skin was unblemished and unmarked. It flushed delightfully when he was happy, and practically glowed whenever he smiled or laughed, filling the room with happiness and serenity.

His blonde hair fell in soft, wispy bangs, which she often carded her fingers through, pulling it back into their clan's signature ponytail -- even though she kept it short for now, for the ease of management.

He had the tiniest of dimples, which always sprung up in his expressions when she least expected it, and often caused her to pause and smile indulgently at him, completely enthralled by this little person that she grew inside her.

Inojin was absolutely perfect. Which is why, when, at his two-year-old checkup, she was shocked when Sakura asked if he was saying any words yet, a concerned pout upon her face.

"Well," Ino hesitated, looking between her friend and her son, "no -- but,"

Sakura took some notes in a physical file before turning back to Ino with an encouraging smile.

***

"Hey, Sai?" Ino was still perched on the couch when her husband got home, leafing through one of her mother's old books about their typical winter flowers.

"Yes?" Instead of getting himself whatever leftovers she'd put aside, Sai joined his wife and wrapped an arm around her.

"Were you late to speak?"

Sai paused, and watched his wife. Her eyes flickered between the pages of the book and him, her lips paused nervously.

"Not that I know... although I'm not privy to a lot of that information,"

Ino nodded sagely, and folded the book closed, settling her head into Sai's chest and sighing. "Sakura is worried about him," She admitted after a few minutes, "all the other kids his age are talking now -- in sentences. And he hasn't even said a word yet,"

It wasn't that Inojin was developmentally delayed in any other ways, that they could think of or that the staff at the hospital could pinpoint.

He could walk. Even being unable to name them, he could obviously recognise colours and animals. He socialised well, and played well with other children.

And yet, nobody had ever heard him speak a single word.

"I think," Sai said carefully, knowing that Ino would be placing all of the blame and worry on herself, "that we shouldn't worry about it. Not yet,"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," He flashed her his characteristic grin, and withdrew his arm from around her before stalking off to get his food. "Speech can come later. For now, we let him be a child."

***

And that they did.

Ino kept taking him to play with his friends -- or at least, the children of her friends.

Sai continued to play with him and train him, teaching him the intricacies of their inks and brushes, and proudly showing off Inojin's drawings to his wife.

They took him out to pick flowers, and involved him in cooking, and Ino read to him every night before bed, stories about ninja, and princesses, and talking cats, and telling him stories of her own youth.

And one day, when she was laying him down to sleep, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, and wished him goodnight.

And in return, she heard the murmur "Goodnight, Mama,"

[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.

[chaotic-saturne]

Boruto, so far, in a nutshell

Ok

So I am watching Boruto, I stopped tonight at the Episode 6 of season 1

So far:

1. Metal Lee has anxiety please protecc this babi at all cost

2. Shikedai has??? His mother’s eyes??? He is so precious???

3. Inojin is the Basic BitchTM of this show, that’s all I have to say about him

4. Could they stop making all of Chocho’s personality around food and boys, just because she is a fat girl??? Go get your fatphobia and sexism out of this show for fuck’s sake.

5. Boruto has ADHD like his dad and Mitsuki is autistic

6. Mitsuki is clearly gay for his Golden Boy

7. Also, Denki and Boruto are what Naruto and Sasuke would have been if it went healthier, that Sasuke wasn’t an Emo BitchTM and that Naruto cared for the others from the very start

8. Ok, Boruto is gonna date Denki and Metsuki, please don’t make him straight

9. Why Shikedai has to be the smart kid??? Is it a Nara thing???

10. Shino as a teacher...what a surprise???

11. Anko is so freaking cute please let’s go on a date together (my gay ass is showing)

12. Naruto, also known as “I love being a bad dad and a bad husband”

13. My gf explained (she has almost finished Boruto) that it would have been very good that they could have shown that Naruto, in the end, didn’t like being Hokage, and that it is ok to change plans through life

14. Shikamaru stop being a sexist twat with your wife???

15. How does he not know how to cook he is in his 30s???

16. I am President of the “Temari and Hinata should break up with their exhausting husband and marry each other” (yeah I am very serious)

17. How does some of the kids don’t know each other???Their parents are best friends???

18. Inojin is Ino but looking like an Aspirine (Yeah, I know, I am mean to this boy)

19. The one who repeated twice the class (don’t remember his name, sorry), I know he is supposed at first to look imposing, but, like, I am an adult, how am I supposed to be scared of a “14 y.o boy who bullies 12 y.o kids”???

20. Also, how funny is that he is a “thug” and also that it happens that he is a person of color...Ahaha...How funny is that...(but I am white so perhaps my assumptions about it are wrong? Sorry if it is, tell me if I need to delete this part)

21. I learnt that Gaara has a kid??? Hell no, my babi is ace, he adopted the kid, he doesn’t have a spouse.

22. My theory on how Sasuke and Sakura had a kid because it still looks very unlikely: Sasuke was sad because Naruto didn’t like him back, so he had sex with Sakura, oupsie she got pregnant, oupsie Sasuke’s gone.

23. Same for Ino and Sai, don’t make any sense to me??? Yeah, Ino understood she could never have either Sakura or Sasuke (Ino is our Bi Queen ok) so she slept with Sai, oupsie she got pregnant, oupsie none of them understand what birth control means???

24. Me: How did they all have kids the same year

Gf: they did an orgy

Me: Mmm...Plausible

25. Ino stays with Sai because she likes to roleplay Sai as Sasuke (this idea is shared for you by my lovely gf)

[narutokinaesthetics-blog]

aesthetic for an autistic inojin who loves painting, shikadai, and his dad, with a specific request for no black & white images (including manga caps!) with pastels too! - mod Naruto