The distinct howl of metal shearing through air pierced the silence of the forest, forcing a sprinting figure into evasive action. Rolling away from the projectile's path, the spectacled teen flung a chakra coated blade at the offending kunai's owner, catching the grey clad nin's forearm. Ignoring the yelp of surprise, the hooded figure dashed forward, pressing his advance on his now wounded enemy.
There was no choice for the Oto chuunin but to hastily draw the kunai embedded in her arm to deflect the quick strike from her opponent. Her panic was accentuated by her sloppy attempts at blocking the enemy's attacks, and her erratic breathing. Needless to say, this was not what she had been expecting from an Aburame clansmen. Most of their kind preferred to use melee as a last defense, rather than a direct action.
Dodging a quick jab to her throat, the black haired kunoichi regained her wits. She flexed the mess of flesh and blades that was her right hand, swinging at the Aburame in a wide, deadly arc. Her frustration at not feeling hot blood on her hand was evident when her attack was met with empty air rather than flesh, and it took all of her month long experience on the front lines to avoid the sudden, and surprising, kick from behind. 'How did he…?' Turning, her unnatural eyes saw through the darkness, shining with a malicious hunger of a cornered animal.
"I" She began, her voice thick with animosity. "Have not come this far, survived all of those experiments" Her bladed hand flexed under the moonlight, "Passed all of those tests" Her left hand gripped tightly around the blooded kunai, "And killed all of those damn Taki nin, just to be thwarted by you!" Her scream echoed within the forest, the once lively scenery frightened away by the months of fighting in the area, leaving only silence.
Her opponent merely watched her from beneath his coverings, his round spectacles gleaming under the moonlit night. He gave no motion to retort, his stillness almost appearing to be aloofness. However eerie his silence was, he only succeeded in angering the Oto chuunin.
Gritting her unnatural fangs, the woman lashed out with her mutated hand, or rather, claw. The glistening blades of her augmented arm shone in the wan light of the moon, sending fiery sparks flying as it struck the goggled man's own blade. Her slitted eyes widened in her haste to stab at the Aburame's core, her blood rushing with adrenaline as she lashed out. However, her wrist was halted by the pale hand of her enemy, and she was caught in a short grapple before a distinctive SNAP came from below.
Her scream was of utter agony. The Oto nin could only afford enough time to glance at the crushed form of her leg, sundered by the Aburame's precise footwork. The distraction had cost her, and her yellow eyes were met by the sight of a rapidly approaching fist, before her vision was visited by the moon's pale glow.
It was a moment of serenity, her adrenaline briefly ceasing the pain of her broken leg. However, said serenity crashed when she met the ground, her wound erupting in a bloom of pain unlike anything she had experienced before. Darkness crept at the corners of her vision, even the massive body of the moon was indiscernible from the blur of her sight. The pain was too much to see, but she refused to lose consciousness. She would live, she would survive.
It took all of her willpower not to give in to the pain, and all of her devotion to even make an attempt to rise against her foe. But when she was met with another wall of screaming agony, the grey camouflaged kunoichi collapsed into a heap once more. It took only a second more for the bright light of the moon to be stolen from her sight, instead replaced by the tower of her hooded opponent.
She had heard tales, many interpretations of the Shinigami. From the white robed Oni of Souls, to the onyx scaled Daemon of Styx. But, even in the tremors of her flight instinct, the mutant could only comprehend one image of the God of Death. The image which burned into her soul as two gleaming lenses peered down on her, from beneath a veil of darkness.
In her hysteria, the Sound ninja gaped at the Aburame, feebly sputtering incoherent strings of unintelligible babblings. Yet, she could not move from her prone position, her body refusing to move a single inch. It seemed like an eternity, fearfully peering up to the looming orbs of the Aburame's goggles. The night had fallen quiet again, yet the sounds of nocturnal life were still absent. It was as if the entire world watched in bated breath, for this very moment.
The pressure was suffocating, the young woman never realizing it was the intense amount of killing intent being released from her opponent that had brought her to this near catatonic state. But, after so long, a glimmer of hope sprung from beneath her despair. Perhaps the Konoha nin would spare her? They always were the softest of the five major nations. However, it seemed that thought was premature, for the Aburame never intended mercy upon his enemy.
Quite the opposite, actually.
It was at that moment that a crucial thought invaded the Oto shinobi's mind, one that she was too fraught with fear to ask before. 'Where are his bugs?'
A moment later, and she could finally register the thousand burning blades of the Aburame's newest and darkest accomplishment. The crimson beetles had swarmed her body, flaying her skin like searing knives. Her scream was muffled by a cloud of crimson insects, flooding her mouth and tearing into the soft flesh of her esophagus, invading her entrails like a seeping flow of burning venom.
Her whole form writhed in shock, too overridden in an unmatched agony for her to even think clearly. Her lungs filled with a bloody ichor, making her coughing fits horrendously abrasive, as if they were shredding from the effort to even breathe. Holes and gashes streamed with rivers of those evil creatures, opened both from the outside and from within.
After a while, the pain began to cease, and she felt her very essence leeching away. She looked from the churning turmoil of her body to the enemy who had so ruthlessly dispatched her. And there he was, unmoving as he observed her from above. It was almost as if he was surveying her demise like she wasn't even a person. Like this was some sort of test, experiment. It was just as she had experienced from her own master, but far worse. That was the last thought that ran though her mind, before her vision turned to red, then to inky blackness. Her eyes consumed by the carnivorous insects.
Then, she was no more.
Shino awoke with a gasp, his body heaving in strained breaths. Out of pure habit, he reached out to grab his shaded glasses, finding them exactly where he had placed them for the last eighteen years. Sliding the pair of metal rimmed glasses over his nose, Shino noted how warm he was, an uncommon feeling to the Aburame. The many tangled tunnels within the man's body helped his kikachu regulated his body temperature, as with all Aburame. It took a great amount of vigorous activity, or a great amount of stress to bring his body temperature so feverish.
Suppressing a tired growl, the eighteen year old flung his wool blanket to the side of his sleeping mat. He stared up at his ceiling, a sight he was all too familiar with, yet, now it seemed alien to him. Memories of idle reminiscing, subdued meditation, and even a single slumber party he had once hosted for his teammates, drifted into his mind. Each memory found himself staring up at the same, wooden lattice, draped with winy growths of medicinal and spiritual value. Every time, a slight niggling of doubt, or of pain, thrummed in his chest as he thought of his comrades.
Shino frowned slightly, an expression he had long become prone to, as even in the days where Team Eight was closest, he would not be sure if they could consider him to be someone beyond a comrade. His discussion with Torune, before his sealing, charged into the forefront of his mind. Torune had once been his greatest and only friend, teaching him techniques and lore far before he was meant to learn. However, it was the fact that his older cousin was not only willing, but genuinely pleased to speak and play and train with him that strengthened his bond with Torune. This had given young Aburame Shino a massive amount of admiration for him.
It was also that same friendship that caused Shino the sorrow he felt when Shimura Danzo had come to the Aburame clan, eager to exercise his nigh unlimited power of recruitment. The secretive insect users of the Aburame had not put forth a substantial amount of recruits for the ROOT, or the shinobi village at large, since the plague that had wracked their clan at the end of the Third Great War. Of course, this massed weakening of the Aburame had been hidden, but the effects of such a crippling blight had been seen not just within their compound, but among the council of Konoha's clans.
It was they, the council of clans, which brought the Aburame's considerable voice to heel. While allies and comrades, most of the clans of Konoha were ever power hungry, and the constant neutrality and unwavering logic of the insect-nin leaders had always made them the last, and usually most important, vote in the four noble clans during a vital convening. Countless times, they had balanced the scales of power between fractious and ever shifting divides in the shinobi council, putting a swift end to any one clan too ambitious for their own good.
Yet, when their numbers had waned, so too did their political sway. Their status as one of Konoha's four noble clans had disappeared in all but name, due to their political rivals in the Uchiha, Akimichi, and Hyuuga clans desire to end the Aburame's intrusions. They reasoned, since the clan had lacked a sufficient number of able bodied shinobi, the Aburame clan should have their Noble Clan vote diminished to a mere Fledgling Clan vote. It was all Sarutobi Hiruzen could do to mitigate the political shifts against the Aburame, but even the Hokage could not deny the other clans for the sake of one.
It was a sentiment of the greater good, the Will of Fire, which Hiruzen appealed to. It kept the Aburame from inflicting rash judgment upon the village, but just that. The withdrawn and concealed clan retracted further within itself, only trusting in their closest allies outside of their own clan. Those allies were few, and their strength lacking compared to the other entities of Konoha, but there was one ally they had gained from this debacle; ANBU
Or more specifically, ROOT.
Shino's frown deepened further as the shadowy organization entered his mind. Had Torune not intervened when the ROOT leader had come… would it have for been the better? Sighing, Shino rose from his mat, neatly folded his blanket and grabbed a towel. No one would be at the bathhouse at this early hour, when the carabid beetles and shyer lepidopterans still roamed and thrived in the dark.
Sliding the wooden panel of his door aside, Shino soundlessly traversed the clan compound, passing his father's chambers as he left his home and stepped out to the gardens of his compound. He gave a slight pause to admire the moonlight, and how it softly illuminated the myriad of moths and night flowers. The moon was full, and the garden was a perfect image of soft, pure serenity.
The scent of lavender pedals ghosted under his nose, just barely registered in his mind as he approached the flat, roofless building of the bathhouse. As his pale form slipped into the moonlit pool, Shino released his kikaichu, letting their restless forms skitter and swim in the scented water. For once in a very long time, he let his mind truly relax, his thoughts dulling into a mesmerized slur of tired bliss. The constant drills of the ANBU training, coupled with his already weary condition, put the heir's mental and physical fortitude to a vicious test.
A small tug of amusement ghosted on the edge of Shino's lips, the thought that he had, yet again, surpassed his peers stoking his pride. This, however, was short-lived. The all too familiar thought of his achievements being overshadowed by some ludicrous, spontaneous, and outright stupid event crossed his mind. Always, his successes had either been sidelined or even derailed by allies and enemies alike. Like the time of his first chuunin exams, and the whole military invasion that followed his match. An. Invasion.
Or, his accomplishments were outright ignored by his comrades, per nothing unusual manifested. Thinking back, Shino remembered that on one particular occasion at a reunion of their rookie teams, that he had been overshadowed and outright ignored at every turn. He had honestly been looking forward to that particular event, as he had been away on a series of consecutive solo missions for quite a long while, and had not seen any of his old comrades. At the end of the night, his frustration had festered to the point where he had considered the use of his kikaichu as a viable way to get any sort of recognition beyond a "Hello, Shino-kun", or "Oi, Bug boy, it's been a while" from two out of the other eleven members of their party.
It was when Naruto, the one who so flippantly preached about inclusiveness and camaraderie at all times, had failed to notice the new Jounin's presence until the very end of the night. That, had enraged the Aburame to illogical levels of emotion. There is a reason why Aburame uniformly keep a calm and professional composure, and why they should never be trifled with. They are in harmony with their Kikaichu allies, complete symbiosis. When the host grows frustrated, the swarm grows restless. When the vessel turns to anger, the horde turns to frenzy.
He was honestly surprised when it had been Lee, of all people, to have taken the time to look at the insect user's attire, noticing the dark collar of a Jounin flak jacket under Shino's hood. The ever exuberant taijutsu expert made a… rather strange… commotion on Shino's behalf, raining congratulations and praises of 'youth' to him, in full view of the other members of their celebration.
He felt his muscles loosen, and his mind drift on the moonlight. The frustrating memories of silent condemnation faded to a dull buzz of relaxation, and his heartbeat slowed to the rhythm of the gentle swirl of the pool around him. It was all Shino could do not to drift off into sleep, but rather, a dull state of meditation. He felt the connection between himself and his beetles, whom had been exploring the water, adapting to the new environment. He felt the chakra he had released into the water, put there to coax his kikaichu to leave the host. He could feel the morning air around him, and how the many nocturnal creatures were preparing to rest for the coming day.
His brow furrowed ever so slightly, as his feeling stretched to the grass beyond the tiled wooden floors of the bath. He could feel the insects and critters that scurried and hunted within the short sea of green blades, and the arachnids that wove their nets and homes in the trees above. Moths fluttered in the cool air, letting the soft breeze of the morning carry them to their nests. Centipedes sifted through the dirt and gravel, seeking their next meal or reprieve.
The feeling was peaceful, yet invigorating; Exciting, yet serine. It had been some time since he had last had the opportunity to fully connect with nature, and tune out all of the conflict and business of a shinobi life. It was not an easy life, and there was always too much work to be done. Such is the way of the Elemental Nations, such is the way of the shinobi…
A single twitch of annoyance was all Shino would allow as he observed one of his teammates foolishly charge for their target. The plain masked individual leapt, his standard issue tanto in mid-swing as he attempted to decapitate the instructor. Shino did not have to look when he heard the crack of bone to assume he was down one team member.
From his vantage point, Shino could already see the enemy team capitalizing on the fool's haste. He felt their signatures, although impressively suppressed, mobilize to the perfect position to take on the target. One on the street corner, behind a cloth divider; another on the rooftop two building down, across the street. The last was a bit harder to pinpoint, something he had anticipated since their last encounter. This shinobi specialized in defensive genjutsu, and was a master at evasion.
Shino grinned a ghost of a smile behind his plain porcelain mask, it felt nice to be someone's perfect counter.
His kikaichu had no trouble locating this one, she had placed herself closest to the target, disguised as one of the porcelain mannequins acting as civilian bystanders. 'To think this kunoichi could manipulate such strong genjutsu, to afford the risk of using such a noticeable jutsu as substitution… Most impressive.' He noted how their formation formed a spearhead assault with the genjutsu user at the head… no, it was a reverse pincer movement. Once the other two spring into action, she would wait for a reaction, and take the instructor by surprise.
Seeing this, Shino spared precious seconds to communicate with his last remaining team member. It was interesting, working with an actually competent Yamanaka. It made for a rather silent communication, and a perfect mode of stealth. He had no need to signal and risk revealing his position to either his target or his enemies, just to relay info, as vital as it may be, to his allies. The mind link was not intrusive in the way that it would read every thought that crossed the subject's mind, but rather those they would actively send to the caster of the jutsu, making for an astonishingly efficient transfer of information.
He felt the link close, informing the Aburame of his teammate's acknowledgment. They needed to act fast, before the target was taken out by the enemy. Scattering his kikaichu, Shino began to set traps and rally points for his insects to wait, effectively increasing their team's number from an unfortunate two to a competent six.
Things were about to get a lot faster…