The Silk Flower
Part 1
Whispered touches
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He had always known that he was different from others before he had entered the academy. His father had always warned him not to get too close to people, physically or emotionally, because someone will always get hurt, and that would probably always be him.
His parents' marriage was arranged, and was not by any means a love match. Although his mother now is happy, she wasn't before and neither was his father. Being so quiet since he was a child had allowed him to see their sadness. He remembered too much of his mother's home sickness and tears, and his father's soft sighs and miserable expressions.
It was a very obvious thing among the Aburames to be very indulging to their spouses, as if they were unconsciously trying to make up for something… imperfect and wanting.
But it was fortunate for him to have such a kind mother, kinder than most at the least. She raised him herself, which is more than he can say for the other women who had married into their clan, who preferred to not touch their children longer than necessary and flinch at every innocent, playful contact of skin.
He thought that maybe because he was her son, her own, that she felt unable to reject him as the other's have, that he was different than his father. He was told that she adapted very quickly after his birth as if she was finally ready to settle after years of trying to find her home in a foreign village.
As he started to grow older and met his peers, he had discovered that what his father had told him was true. People tend to avoid them, politely keep their distance, and ignore the simplest of courtesies as the hand shaking of equals, preferring to bow as if they were showing respect to their superiors when they weren't.
Their sensitive skin and eyes weren't helping either, forcing to them be dressed so extremely modest, which gave them the facade of aloofness.
At the academy, it was not different. Although some would be engrossed with the high quality sophisticated shades, as soon as they know the reasons for them, they draw themselves away.
There are those who never bothered with him to begin with, like his current teammates, who never gave him hope then abandoned him with his childish plans of trust bonds.
He later discovered that those two weren't like the rest. That Kiba was a bit preoccupied with his little growing dog and making troubles everywhere, and that Hinata was shy as shy could get and a grand Heiress that was too busy to bother with someone who looked so intimidating.
"Tsk," newly graduated Kiba said as soon as they arrived at the training grounds for the first time together, "Not my first pick of a team, but at least you're with me, Akamaru."
He turned to grin at them, a wolfish mischievous wide one, and extended his hand to the other boy, while the girl just eyed them both then smiled shyly at them as they shook hands.
She also, never bothered with him before.
Not that he remembered her much from back then, He only remembered by her, name, Yamanaka Ino, the girl who sat at the front of the class, while he sat at the back, The girl who always fought loudly with her friend about something or the other. Also the girl from the local flower shop that often called for some assistant from his clan regarding some insect or the other.
It wasn't until later, much later, when their teams became closers, when they got promoted, when they became actual comrades that he noticed that she never treated him as most others did. She never recoiled from him, she even slapped his back encouragingly at a time, and she doesn't seem notice the things that people, especially women, deemed repulsive.
It was then that he started to feel uneasy around her. Her bizarre reaction made him uncomfortable. He started to go to great pains to avoid her, or actually, make it simpler for him to pay him no heed since he never deliberately spoke to her.
He was thankful that she started to her special training, which required her to be away for long periods of time. It made it easier for him to go to her family's green house, do his work and leave without worrying that she might show up, and ruin his disposition by acting familiar and sociable as if she could see through his everything.
He felt as if he was a child again that was holding a little hope in his hands and debating with himself if it was better to let it go now before it was taken away by force.
He hated his name.
Why does it have to sound so much like hers?
TBC…