drones and workers all uphold (Naruto OC)
The thing is, shinobi do not look remotely human.
There is something about the awareness they have over their body, about the control ingrained discipline gives them over their facial expressions and the minute twitches of their limbs that has even civilian-raised ninja looking ever so slightly off.
The selective breeding some clans impose on their members takes it to a higher level.
They are too beautiful. Their features so symmetrical it is unnerving and their grace like that of predators rather than fan dancers. Shinobi-raised children have to learn to make sound when they walk before they can be taken to civilian spaces. So used to imitating their parents, they are rarely aware that they move with the gait of a born killer.
To be shinobi is to be a monster with a human face.
They know to hide it of course.
(Despite that, the slightest break to their composure exposes the beast inside for all to see.)
The Yamanaka, Akimichi and Nara are masters at this game, masquerading as affable and approachable when they hide some of the most merciless torturers within their midst. They will smile and bow but never bend, hiding blades, wires and poisons between their teeth and in the crook of their elbows.
The Sarutobi clan conceal themselves between affable masks, their elders seen as wise though whimsical. When they walk through the village smelling like tobacco with a human gait and a human face, no one remembers how dangerous the monkeys can be.
Some clans pride themselves in their monstrosity.
The Uchiha and Hyuuga with their unblinking stares, marble beauties dancing on the battlefield like raptors arching through the sky to descend on their prey.
The wild Inuzuka and Hatake, barely pretending to be more than beasts with sharp fangs and killer instincts, only held back by the metaphorical leash the Hokage keeps around their necks.
And the Aburame.
Constant buzzing under their skins, stilted speech patterns and a hivemind devoted to its queen.
Consuming ceaselessly whether it is chakra or flesh, moving on to the next target like pollinator insects flit from flower to flower.
Civilians never forget what the Aburame are.
For all that they play the game and try to blend in, there are few shinobi in Konoha who scream their otherness quite as loudly as they do.
Shin’ya has never bothered to try.
He flaunts his hive everywhere he goes, forgoing the distinctive Aburame cloak for a forest green cropped shirt and letting his kikaichu creep out of his skin in public, only bothering to hide them via genjutsu on missions that require it. He lets his movements look seamless enough to unnerve the most hardened Konoha-jin civilian and sharpens his kunai like one would do their nails in public if they were bored enough.
Shin’ya is of the opinion that shinobi should be allowed to drop the mask at home.
Putting up a pretence should be kept for seduction or assassination missions, not for buying groceries.
After a few complaints to the KPF made by civilians, Uchiha Fugaku gently told him to keep it to his clan compound. Shin’ya begrudgingly agreed, though he ended up spending less time in the village as a result.
Which makes his predicament all the more inconvenient.
“I am temporarily retired from ANBU and slotted for a long-term civilian surveillance assignment after my three-months recovery period. Why? Because Hokage-sama has decided the results of my last psych evaluation were unsatisfactory.”
He frowns at himself at the use of the language tick so common to his clan and the distinctive Konoha drawl of his accent. He has been training himself to leave both out of his speech patterns so he could avoid recognition during missions. His annoyance must have let them resurface.
“I see. I will inform the queen,” says his cousin. Shibi turns around, pressing a light hand on his wife’s shoulder before leaving the room. Shin’ya watches the intimate gesture with undisguised fascination, his gaze hidden behind heart-shaped sunglasses. Seeing his cousin so content in his relationship never ceases to amaze him.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Why? Because it will leave you time to recuperate from your ordeal,” adds Ibara after her husband is gone.
By ordeal, Ibara is talking about the mildly inconvenient situation he found himself in on his last mission, when his entire ANBU team was held captive and tortured by Iwa-nin for a few days. Shin’ya escaped relatively unscathed save for some damage to his prosthetic arm, but his team leader was skinned alive along with their youngest recruit. He only managed to save one comrade by the skin of his teeth, whom he learnt apparently killed herself while he was tending to his swarm.
She makes it sound like a bigger deal than it is.
“The concern is appreciated but unnecessary. I do not need such a long recovery period.”
“Hokage-sama says otherwise, Shin’ya. You will listen. Why? Because your queen orders it so,” says the Aburame hive’s newly-crowned queen as she enters behind their clan head.
Aburame Shiori is twelve years old. Next to their clan head, she is minuscule. Yet it is she who holds all the power. Shibi might handle the Aburame’s external relations but it is her majesty whom the hive answers to.
“As you wish, your Majesty.”
She nods a little too enthusiastically, betraying her youth.
“Good. Now, come with me, my drones. Kanna made honey cake.”
Shin’ya doesn’t comment on the bounce in her step as she leads them to the main house’s kitchen but he exchanges enchanted smiles with his cousin’s wife.
*