Summary: By helping a terrified stranger, Shino finds himself again.
Multi Kiba Month day 2: KibaShino
The end of the world wipes out most of the earth's life. It wipes out every piece of normality, every ounce of safety, and Shino's hope in Humanity along with it.
He's sitting on a rock, staring up at the sky. Stars flood the darkness, now not dulled out by the immense light pollution.
He closes his eyes, letting his head flop back listlessly.
There's a bag of medical supplies slung over his shoulder that even now, just resting, he can't bring himself to part with. Irrational thoughts flooding his mind the second it's out of sight, worried that someone would steal it, that he'd lose it, that something would come and take away his only purpose in life.
With his previous job as a paramedic before the world chewed up Humanity and spat them all out again to pick up the shattered pieces, he had invaluable skills.
There wasn't anything else to do, and Shino needed more of a goal then don't die.
But now, the bag at his hip was like a burden, a heavy reminder that people were fucking assholes, and mother nature had every right to wipe out the human race if that's what she wished for. He'd helped the wrong person, got involved in the wrong crowd and now all Shino had left to show for his efforts of helping strangers was a burning paranoia, a reason to carry a gun, and more blood on his hands than he ever wished for.
All Shino wanted to do was to help, and now he was a murderer. He supposes that drunk, hallucinating and violent people exist no matter the state of the world.
He opens his eyes, willing something to change, something to happen to give him some sort of idea what to do next. A part of him - a worryingly large part - knows he didn't have a choice. He acted in self-defence because that man was going to kill him. But that doesn't change the fact that Shino held a gun to that man's head and pulled the trigger.
The palms of Shino's hands dig into the rock so hard he's sure he's popped the blister on his right hand if the liquid dripping down his fingers is anything to go by.
Humans are so angry. And he wishes this tragedy would unite people, rather than tear them apart even further.
Shino slowly eases himself off the rock, muscles stiff, and heart heavy.
He just wants to help, to do something in this ruined world that's not death and hatred.
Shino's walks only a few meters from the rock he was perched on to find a place to sleep, when his foot collides with something that yelps and suddenly Shino is pinned to the ground, the cold metal of a gun pressed to his temple.
Shino notices the red triangle tattoos on each cheek, then he notices the blood covering the man's face, and then he notices that he looks terrified. His breaths coming out short stunted and useless. His eyes are wide, struggling to look directly at Shino, instead flittering around the area trying to make out anyone through the darkness.
"Easy, easy," Shino says. "It's just me here. I'm sorry for startling you," and isn't ironic that Shino's natural response to this is never violence even when it would save him a lot of pain in the long run if just shot first and asked questions never.
Yet, here he is.
The man's hands are shaking, and even in the dark Shino can make out the splatter of bruises stretching around his neck like someone tried to strangle him. Shino can't help the sheer anger that bubbles inside of him. Like he said, people are fucking assholes.
"Sorry," the man says, barely above a whisper, and he actually does look genuinely sorry, but he doesn't remove himself from where he's pinned Shino to the ground, nor does he remove the gun from Shino's temple. He wonders if the man even realises the position he has Shino in, if whatever it was he was running from scared him that much.
"I'm alone," Shino adds. "I'm not going to hurt you. I can clean up those cuts if you want?" Shino nods at the sluggishly bleeding cuts littering practically every surface of his visible skin. He keeps the question light, open. He's not demanding the other man to do anything.
There's a soft bark from somewhere behind the man, and that seems to startle him out of whatever particular hell his mind had pulled him into. Shino can pick the exact second when he comes to his senses. He finally makes eye contact with Shino, then looks at his hand that's holding the gun, then turning slightly to face the dog that's behind him.
Another long second passes before the man scrambles off of him, terror still etched in his features. He frantically shuffles backwards, bumping into the dog that leans in, cautiously rubbing his nose against the man's face. He doesn't take his eyes off Shino.
"Sorry," he gasps out again, one hand gripping the dog's fur like it's the only thing keeping him alive.
"It's okay," Shino says, slowly moving onto his knees. "I can help?" Shino gestures to the bag at his side. "Used to be a paramedic."
The man eventually, after a little too long of deliberation, nods. Shino begins to move, being careful not to stand or move too fast. That dog looks like it could tear out Shino's throat with ease if the man becomes more frightened.
"I'm Shino, what's your name?" he asks as he pulls out some antiseptic wipes.
"Kiba," he whispers. He looks like he's desperately trying to calm himself, so Shino pats his leg gently in comfort.
Shino wipes at Kiba's wounds, starting at the worst ones on his face, pausing when Kiba tenses too much, allowing to the pain to subside.
Just recently, Shino had been forced to abandon a person he was trying to save, and shoot another who'd taken a personal offence to Shino even attempting to help. Not that long ago, Shino had killed a man. Just a few minutes ago he was questioning why he kept doing this to himself.
But, as he watches Kiba's face as he carefully begins to clean his wounds and slowly but surely Kiba relaxes, unconsciously leaning into Shino's touches… this is why Shino does it.