So I started Economics at Uni. Looked back at this fanfic, and maybe I'll finish this someday. Soon.

The Cook

Ever since he was young, Choji had a habit of eating a bit too much. His parents never discouraged it, and he never realised that there was anything wrong with it until he started going to school - until the other wealthy children pointed out to him that he was fat, a pig, a slob, a disgrace to his family.

He'd never placed so much stock into appearance until then. Hadn't realised it was so important. But once the label stuck, the bullying followed, and there was no one around him willing to see him for who he was. And because he enjoyed eating a bit too much, he started eating more… until, even he couldn't deny his protruding belly, the fact that he was indeed fat and flabby and not handsome at all. The girls that went to his sister school snickered and laughed at him whenever they had to do ballroom dancing exercises together; no one wanted to be his partner.

Eating was bliss. Sugary food was very tasty, and didn't seem to judge or belittle him. Although there always was that little bit of guilt that followed consumption.

His parents started to take notice of his situation as well, and tried limiting his eating habits. Choji knew they thought he was a pig as well, unworthy of the noble status that he wished he wasn't born with. If only he were a simple peasant, then maybe appearance wouldn't be such a big deal - after all, peasants were dirty and didn't seem to put so much stock into their image. They could've plowed the fields together, dirty and fat, but still as friends.

How could someone as big as him feel so lonely and small?

But Choji was too much of a coward to run away from home (besides, where would he be able to get his cakes if he had no money?) so he stewed in misery and ran away from the school children whenever they had breaks from lessons. And one day in a hidden part of the building, he bumped into Shikamaru.

Choji wasn't expecting anyone to accept him and his abnormal body at that point, but Shikamaru didn't seem to care at all. After they met - he would never tell anyone this - he went back to his relatively small but still a manor house, climbed up the stairs to where his room was, locked himself in and cried. Just a little bit.

Shikamaru and Choji slowly but surely became friends, and Choji stopped relying on comfort eating, slowly but surely. And after a couple of years, Choji grew to be incredibly large in height, and no one dared to insult him to his face unless they wanted to be punched.

Still, he liked to eat. Shikamaru advised that he pursue his culinary interests, and that's what Choji ended up doing. It turned out that apparently he had talents apart from eating, because other people appreciated the food he cooked, and after a couple of years he was promoted to be a cook in the King's castle. And a couple of years after that, he even went on to be the Main Chef.

He owed Shikamaru a lot. It was also through Shikamaru that he was introduced to Ino, one of the first women that befriended him without sniggering (too much) about his weight, someone willing to talk to him. She was so bubbly and bright and it enchanted Choji, allowing him to incorporate a bit more enthusiasm in his own life and cooking as well. Her hair shined like the sun, and her eyes reminded him of the cornflowers she gardened in the castle. She was a bit too thin and if she let him, he'd make her as many meals as she wished, anything that she wanted. And sometimes, even someone as dull and stupid (and fat) as him could see that she was immeasurably sad, and he wished he had all the answers like Shikamaru, wished he knew what he could do to make her feel better.

He wished he had the courage to admit his feelings to her, even though someone as beautiful and wonderful as her would never see him as anything more than a friend. It was honestly amazing that she even saw him as that, and even talked to him. He didn't think he was worth her conversation. But he was a coward, and a coward like him couldn't help remain silent, continuing his monotonous routine of cooking and eating. He also thought that she deserved much better than him - even someone like King Itachi, who was kind and gentle and handsome and smart.

And so he was stuck between wanting to shower her with his affection, and knowing that it was pointless and a burden to her. But talking to her was okay, wasn't it? Especially when Shikamaru was there, acting as a buffer, and actually offering intelligent things to say. Yes, talking was okay. He wouldn't feel guilty over that.

He wondered whether the harsh words from his school years would ever be erased from his subconsciousness. Whether he'd ever stop feeling ashamed after every delicacy he ate. Whether he'd stop feeling the punches and the kicks, even though the physical bruises had faded years ago. Did the bullies ever still think of him, of how much he disgusted them? Or was he just someone unmemorable, an easy target because of his weight. And wasn't he even more worthless for letting something from so long ago affect him even now, even though he was a fully grown man? Almost twice the size of other men. He was laughable, really.

He laughs at himself and his own pitifulness.

Ino had told him that maybe he wouldn't feel as bad if he found himself a wife. Her optimism and good-naturedness amazed him - as if someone like him could find a wife. The women who approached him, few as they were, did it so they would be able to joke to their friends about it later. That's what he amounted to, after all. And even though Ino was wonderful for thinking that he'd be able to find a partner, it still hurt him to know that she was encouraging him to find another. Even though he knew that liking her was hopeless, that she'd never give him a first, let alone second look.

When he thinks about it though, he doesn't think he's had such a miserable life. He loves to cook - feels a sense of accomplishment when he chops the onions just so, or when the bread dough rises to the exact level he expected. When he sees the dishes he's made be polished off, and thoroughly enjoyed. At times like these, he feels proud of what he's done, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he makes a small difference in the world. So he's going to stick with chopping his onions and brewing his stews because after all, that's the only thing someone like him can do.

A case of extremely low self-esteem. I feel like it's relatable to a lot of people, and probably has been both 1000 years ago and now. Tell me what you think, and whether you can relate.

Aurora