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Chapter Text

“Peace is not a matter of learning harmony, it's about unlearning division.”
― Abhijit Naskar

War was… loud.

In a way Sakura never could have anticipated.

The shinobi around her, renowned for being stealthy and cunning and surreptitious, were rallying against echoing battling cries and flinging themselves openly into combat. Amid explosions and large, impressive displays of ninjutsu, these men and women performed more like samurai than ninja. The glint of ready blades flashed as they sprinted, heavy plated armor adapted to resist the Zetsu army attacks limited flexibility, but they compensated with strength and speed.

They adapted, as all shinobi do. The result was a more traditional war strategy, which entailed close combat in numbers to flush the clones out.

It was loud. The cacophony of sound as earth was ripped open in staggering patches, as trees fell with the lingering crackle of fire, as water and wind tore into the glades surrounding their small camp.

And the screams.

Sakura had experience with screams; her time at the hospital had necessitated the familiarity. She had thought herself immune. She came to discover that there was a marked difference between tuning out the scream of a patient (her mind and fingers busy already fixing the problem) and lying awake in her tent forced to listen to the grating, gurgling, screeching screams of the dying. Chakra exhaustion paralyzing her in the rough canvas of her cot, unable to block out the dissident cries.

The quiet of morning was somehow just as damning.

Then, in an effort to cut down on patrols, chakra-laden explosive tags were set up as a make-shift perimeter around their temporary camps. Close enough that when conflicts started and the tags were set off, her ears rang and her stressed, overwrought nerves jerked her limbs unnaturally. Close enough to instigate instant panic.

Sound began to create an anxiety that tore into her sense of security. It traveled down her back and settled into her limbs, tensing muscles and making her chest ache. It made her hands shake, uncharacteristic jitters she could only calm with chakra. It made her startle terribly, afraid to be touched, trapped, torn into- as if the sounds around her had the power to physically tear.

The absence of sound should have been a balm, but instead it felt like a pin about to drop. The eye of the storm. The dead, stale air before the spark in the explosive paper combusted. Something unnatural and anticipatory that spelled death and destruction and doom in the next breath.

When Team 7 finally reunited, Sakura should have been elated. This is what she had been waiting for for years- years. But brash, flamboyant, unpredictable Naruto was too loud. And Sasuke, still broody but humbled (buried underneath the trauma and mistakes of his past) was too quiet.

She couldn’t remain long in their company without flinching.

She pushed past it to end the war.

Sakura forced herself to do a lot of things for that reason. She pushed the very limits of her chakra capacity, chakra exhaustion meticulously (carelessly) delayed through the nauseating over-consumption of soldier pills. She callously cut away the lingering grief and fear of failure from losing so many patients, digging bloody fingernails into her palms and biting her chapped lip until it split to break the tears as she dug mass graves. She pushed herself to stay awake, to remain alert and on guard, long after exhaustion had turned her limbs leaden and burned painfully in her eyes.

And when it came time to rest, to celebrate, to properly grieve…

Her body refused to make the transition.

Post traumatic stress disorder, they eventually told her. At the time, upon reaching the destroyed, crumbling remains of her village, all she knew was that something was wrong. That suspenseful sense of dread lingering in the stillness of dead neighborhoods pulled and tightened and whispered terrible promises. The bustle of shinobi returning to collect belongings, laughter loudly echoing (wrong, inappropriate, out of place) made her blanch and cower away from the crowds.

She wandered towards the edge of the village and into the trees, desperate for security. She didn’t realize she had entered the Aburame compound, as she had never previously visited. She was attracted to the comforting darkness of the thick canopy overhead, the oddly elegant way nature had been allowed to overgrow around grand homes, and the strangely soothing sound of buzzing insects.

They found her there, later. She had passed out in a garden, fairly covered in soil and curious critters, but more deeply asleep than she had managed for what felt like years.

She made a habit of returning during the reconstruction process.

The Aburame tolerated it with obvious puzzlement. Desperate to keep this sense of peace, Sakura was careful to contribute, meticulously maintaining gardens, carefully collecting venom and other organic materials, and then knowledgeably curating both poisons and medicinal brews and balms. Her efforts were appreciated and well-received, albeit met with quiet confusion.

Shino was the first to confront her about her new habits, likely due to their similar age and previous association. She remembers blinking down at him from where she was perched on the large trellis, pruning shears in hand, and taking in his uncharacteristic agitation. Gone was the perpetually unruffled boy she considered a close acquaintance, calm, cool, and collected. This version of Shino- with sleep-deprived dark eyes staring over glasses that slid down his thin, sweaty nose, with hands covered in dirt absentmindedly grasping sticky weeds, with a body tense and stilted- this version of Shino was a young man struggling.

He felt real, suddenly, in a way he had never been for Sakura before. And it was oddly comforting, to know that someone else was having a hard time attempting to cope. It made it easier to smile at his approach and indulge in his questioning.

He was blunt and straightforward in his approach. “Why do you keep coming back here? The Aburame compound does not typically warrant visitation, especially at the rate that you prefer to visit.”

“The insects,” Sakura stated baldly, as though it were obvious.

Shino’s eyebrows furrowed, still peeking out from behind his shaded glasses. “What?”

Sakura frowned too. She thought if anyone could understand her dilemma, it would be an Aburame. But perhaps she should explain a bit more, to clear up any potential misunderstandings?

So, she sat him down at one of the benches lining a flower garden. She let the sweet fragrance of flowers and the buzzing of busy pollinators calm her, and then she took time to describe her predicament. Her overwhelming experiences during the war, and the struggle she still had attempting to cope (with an emphasis on her recent sensitivity to sound in particular). She narrated that sleeping in her apartment was nigh on impossible, as her nightmares drowned the unfamiliar, dusty room in blood and screams, and the silence left in its wake ate away at her nerves.

“Like a colony of ants descending on a honeydew plant,” she stated seriously, having witnessed this very thing recently within the compound. “The pieces of me get smaller and smaller, and there’s nothing to fill the gaps but fear.”

Eating with her team made her anxious and jittery, submerged in their chaotic interplay and the unspoken, unmet expectations. And then their apprehension at her newfound reticence made her feel uncomfortable and vaguely guilty. She could tell they thought this emotional instability on her part, no matter how tightly she tried to keep it under wraps, made her weak in their eyes. And that was just…

Sakura wrapped her arms around her sides in a tight embrace, with tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, as she tried to put all the things she was feeling into choked words. “I’ve tried so hard to be seen as competent and strong. Capable of handling my own. This sudden sensitivity is a weakness, I know this, but I don’t know what to do about it. And knowing that I’ve given them a reason to continue to look down on me is… infuriating.”

She tried to throw herself into work, but came to avoid the hospital, as an instinctual panic clung as she took in the smell of blood and sterilizing agents that lingered in the hospital air. It gave her the impression of mania, which made her patients ill at ease.

“The insects help,” Sakura explained with a small, grateful smile, barely visible over the morose resignation of her own incompetence. “They’re just quiet and constant enough not to startle me, but loud enough to mask the panic. It’s… soothing.”

He hummed in consideration. She wondered if he doubted her motivations. Still, she noted the way her narrative had relaxed the tension in his body and hoped that the small bit of bravery she had acted on to fully disclose her feelings had brought him a sense of inner peace.

She certainly felt the better for it.

Sakura’s sincerity was put to the test soon enough. Her proclivity for falling asleep in or around the gardens was becoming commonplace. Usually the Aburame were kind enough to jostle her awake after she had rested for several hours. This time she woke up in someone’s arms, and realized with a brief panic that she was being carried.

Shino stilled and watched her with obvious apprehension as the girl blinked up at him in bleary alarm, recognized his face with a grumbled mumble, and then curled against his vibrating chest with a contented sigh. He stared down at her with a look of astonishment, both at her easy familiarity with him and for her nonchalance.

Nonchalance was not how his clan was generally regarded in the village. Disdain or disgust, perhaps. Tolerated ambivalence, at best, which still necessitated distance and circumspection. Sakura had displayed none of this. Particularly of late, she had been quietly kind and inconspicuously cooperative.

If there was one thing an Aburame could respect, it was unobtrusive collectivism.

With this in mind, and still considering Sakura’s recent confession, Shino brought her into his home in a fit of compassion. If she needed the sounds of insects to properly sleep, better to provide that in a setting more appropriate for sleeping, with blankets and shelter from the elements.

His father watched him settle her into the cushions of their wicker sofa with curiosity. He continued to observe as Shino settled in the middle of their living room with his legs crossed, and then moved through the familiar exercises necessary to keep the newest batch of kikaichū trained and prepared. His hive swarmed around him in meticulous patterns, buzzing pleasantly.

Even more curious to observe was how the sound obviously relaxed the lightly dozing girl. She uncurled from her fetal position, stretching in an easy, uninhibited way, and drifted more deeply into slumber.

When Sakura woke later, stretching with a sleepy hum, (idly recognizing the familiar smell of flowers and distant buzz of insects) she took in this change of location with stride. She wandered into the kitchen of the dimly lit yet stately home and accepted a cup of steaming jasmine with quiet surprise. She was directed to sit with the house’s occupants in a curiously windowed room, the dying lights of the sun casting the white walls and panes of glass into a dramatic foray of colors.

It was surprisingly intimate. Both Shino and his father had shed their outer layers, complacent to lounge in more comfortable, tight-fitting clothing within the sanctity of their home. Sakura’s attention was drawn to the small array of potted plants thriving in the windowsill, and then to Shibi’s hive which had begun to roam about the room, spilling from the gourd resting against the wall. And then to an odd array of crescent scars barely visible on Shino’s pale, muscled forearm.

Prevailing underneath was a quiet calm.

As twilight settled, the strumming sound of active insects slipped easily into the space, and Sakura let out a pleased hum. This was the most peaceful she could remember feeling in recent memory. Unlike her recent interactions with other people, the lack of conversation here didn’t make her feel awkward and self-conscious. It felt natural and companionable. In a way so little did at the moment.

“May I visit again?”

She asked on the foot of their porch step in a hushed tone, trying to keep her desperation out of the polite inquiry.

The way father and son looked at her, stoic and focused, made her think she wasn’t quite successful. Still, they were gracious enough to agree.

And thus began a new habit. Instead of falling asleep in soil, she would slumber occasionally on their sofa. When no one was home, she would curl up on the bench resting against the side of their home. Many of her evenings were spent in quiet contemplation sipping tea and watching the colors of the sky change, reflected in a mesmerizing display of glass.

At last. A temporary peace.

Chapter Text

“A really important and underestimated part of recovery is allowing yourself to fall apart without rushing in to fix it.”
― Brittany Burgunder

As much as Shino enjoyed the act of fighting, the opportunity to put his skills to the test and give meaning to the short lives that lived inside him, he had hated the war.

It went far beyond the lack of creature comforts. The forced proximity in close quarters that felt inherently heated and stifling and claustrophobic. The lack of fresh meals, as his team was forced to subsist off pills and dehydrated tidbits. The lack of privacy required to properly tend to his kikaichū.

There was something inherently jarring about mass destruction that you could only notice after the adrenaline had time to settle. No longer absorbed in the heat of the battle, no longer preoccupied calculating responses to the many enemies- all he could take in was the senselessness of death and destruction. The upturned earth choking plant’s access to light, underground insect colonies burned or flooded beyond repair, burrows and dens exposing mutilated young, trees askew…

And the shredded remains of his comrades staining the entire scene in a disturbing crimson and filling the air with screams and cries of misery.

War seemed to be the antithesis to life.

Shino knew his contribution was necessary. His purpose was clear. But handling casualties was not something he had much experience in. Uncomfortable with the emotional outbursts of others in the crowded camp, he had taken to pushing everything he was feeling into a dark corner of his mind. His concern for his team and his family, his horror and outrage at the unnecessary slaughter, his own carefully cultivated fear of death, tied to his growing acknowledgment of the fragility of all things… deep, deep down.

Apathy was a welcome balm. The emotional disconnect made him a more useful, efficient shinobi, and he took advantage of these moments of freedom and clarity.

His sudden lack of compassion went largely unnoticed. It might have hurt him, before, to know his village thought so little of him. Someone forgettable, unnatural, lacking humanity… but not now. He felt an odd kind of power at shedding their expectations, his indifference an effective shield and weapon.

Some part of him recognized that this was temporary. It would need to be; truly apathetic, he was unable to take part in the bonds that grounded him to his village. Unlike termite and ant colonies, pheromones alone were not enough to direct his contribution within the collective. The Will of Fire necessitated attachment.

But perhaps he could luxuriate in the insouciance just a bit longer.

The end of the war came. Too soon. Not soon enough. The two impulses waged war inside his chest.

He followed his father back into the crumbled remains of the city central conflicted. By the time they reached their compound, largely untouched from the fighting, he had pushed it away with practiced ease. Instead, he put himself to work cataloging the condition of the clan's various gardens.

He did not need to confront the assuredly overwhelming emotions if he kept busy.

Shino was thus the first one to spot her. Haruno Sakuro sleeping among the lavender, her hair a spot of pink in a otherwise large square of light purple. He thought it an odd coincidence, considering the medicinal effects of lavender on melatonin levels, and peered over at the girl with confusion.

To be fair, this was a common sentiment he held towards his colleague. Sakura had always struck him as insect-like, not for her appearance so much as her propensity for dramatic change. She had started out shy, awkward, and socially isolated- much like himself. Perhaps in another universe the two young, insecure versions of themselves had formed a connection, but in this one they kept to themselves.

Then the first catalyst: Ino.

Suddenly Sakura was bright and vivacious, filled with easy smiles and eager class participation. Sociable, extroverted, accepted. The turnabout was fascinating.

Then the second catalyst: The Uchiha.

At this point Sakura became aggressive and oddly territorial. She knowingly sacrificed social relationships for the sake of securing a potential mate, still remarkably young in her development, which seemed rather shortsighted to him. She also seemed to spend a great deal of time maintaining her appearance to increase her sexual appeal. It was oddly… basic. Biology in its most basic form, but inherently self-absorbed and at the expense of her ability to contribute to the village.

He had no interest in associating himself with such a girl.

Then came the third catalyst: the Fifth Hokage.

Sakura grew more complicated. She invested in herself, focused on developing skills that could ultimately help everyone in Konoha. She rekindled those social relationships and sought to actively encourage the growth of her friends. As his teammate listed among one of the assisted, he distantly remembers his gratitude and general approval.

She was still occasionally loud, abrasive, and prone to random acts of violence- but it was balanced with a studious nature and the odd, contemplative moment she allowed to lie in comfortable silence. He admired her dedication and respected her from a distance.

Beyond the occasional smile in greeting and the odd hospital visit, she did not seek his company and he did the same.

Shino had to wonder, watching the dozing girl sprawled comfortably in the soil, loose clumps of dirt sticking to her bright hair and ants clambering curiously up her dusty clothes, if war had marked a fourth catalyst.

It didn’t take long to confirm his whimsical supposition. Sakura now went out of her way to spend a majority of her time within his family’s compound, for some unfathomable reason. And the change was once again dramatic.

She was quiet in a way she had never been, even as an insecure, lonely girl new to the Academy. She rarely spoke, and even her movements seemed stilted somehow, lacking the easy confidence of before. This wilting was physically performed too; her tired eyes often shadowed by an unhealthy purple, her hair often greasy from lack of washing, her hands jittery.

The dedication was still there. He and his clan watched with bemusement as Sakura tended to their gardens with meticulous diligence. She went on to help them harvest and dry herbs, and eventually even collected insect fluids (her hold on the participating insects and arachnids strangely delicate, almost revering).

Her prominence as a medic within the village became evident when she took this one step further. Obviously familiar with the Aburame’s preferred healing methods (the noninvasive, natural application of homemade products that avoided incorporating some of the more pungent plants or chemical additives that irritated their insects), she proactively concocted medicinal balms and brews. Their stock of medical supplies had never been so full or so well organized.

It wasn’t that they weren’t appreciative. It was just that they didn’t understand her motivation to help, or her sudden attachment to their home.

Shino’s father had even felt the need to lightly interrogate him about the girl. Shino understood his concern, even as the need continued to baffle him, but could offer little insight. He dutifully reported what he could remember of her behavior, as inconsistent as it was, and suggested her recent actions as part of yet another transitory phase following the war. They both recognized their suppositions were largely conjecture, however, and thus with questionable merit.

His father had also used this conversation to briefly mention Shino’s own behavior since the war. While the village inhabitants seemed largely unaware of Shino’s spiraling aloofness, his father knew him better than anyone. He probed lightly. Shino expected sage advice, which was his father’s trademark parenting style. Instead, the older man offered a rare personal anecdote.

“When your mother passed away, I was inconsolable. I continuously under-performed in my duties to my clan and my village, and to you. Afraid of the consequences of this neglect, I decided to lock away the feelings of grief. To wait until I was stronger and better able to handle them.”

His father grimaced harshly. “These sort of emotions don’t just… disappear. It festers below the surface, similar to root rot. If left unattended, symptoms will eventually appear above the surface.”

“I haven’t experienced any issues thus far,” Shino responded quickly, and more defensively than he intended. He couldn’t help it- the knee jerk response. He wasn’t ready.

His father’s gaze was stricken, but compassionate. Empathetic. “You will.”

Shino stubbornly clung to his dispassion. He resolutely ignored the odd bouts of insomnia that started to crop up and the regular headaches. He increased his working hours to ignore how isolating being so disconnected was starting to feel.

Loneliness and disconnect, these were familiar things to Shino, his entire childhood grounded in the feelings as he clumsily attempted to navigate social relationships with his peers. But he had always had his clan and his father, an exceedingly close-knit group that actively looked out for each other. And over the years he had successfully bonded with his Genin team, and still held those relationships close to his chest.

Now though… he could intellectually recognize the bonds as important, but the meaning behind it was slipping. Other things were too. His perception of time. And the detachment had created a void that was starting to include him too- the tethers keeping him in control were snapping. The things that made him Shino disappearing, leaving a sense of unreality in its wake.

There were moments of clarity. It took energy, pushing everything away, and it was inevitable that he would get overwhelmed at some point. But the emotions that swept him away during these moments were ugly and distasteful, and made him feel terrible things. Fear, panic, insecurity, vexation.

It eventually came to a head. The irritated, agitated mood swing hit hard, and with the chronic sleep deprivation and mild pain he was unable to temper it. He lashed out at the person nearest to him, which so happened to be Sakura, an uncharacteristic, surly contentiousness pushing him to confront her.

“Why do you keep coming back here? The Aburame compound does not typically warrant visitation, especially at the rate that you prefer to visit.”

“The insects.”

She stated this like it was obvious. Like it was commonplace. Like insects were something to be appreciated and visited, rather than disliked and reviled, and why didn’t he know this?

It was so at odds with everything he thought he knew about how his clan was perceived that all he could manage in response was a confused, “What?”

Sakura absentmindedly swiped at the sweat painting her forehead, smearing dirt across her skin as she considered him with a frown.  She eventually hopped towards a bench, motioning for him to follow, and then took an obvious breath to find a moment of calm.

He resisted following suit. Inside him was a maelstrom of irritability, a rawness that was almost painful in its intensity, pushing him to dig into her. His kikaichū were responding to the spike in cortisol, the buzzing flaring in his chest with all of the intensity of an angry hive. It spurred him on like a negative feedback loop.

His fingers twitched, flexing. He wanted to hit something.

Then Sakura began speaking and Shino was unprepared to hear the series of confessions. He wasn’t prepared to hear the vulnerability clearly present in her voice as she recounted her own difficulties in the war. He wasn’t prepared for her tears, and the shaking of her hands, and the rough, unfiltered honesty as she freely admitted her struggles.

She was making him her confidante, and this sense of trust wasn’t lost on him.

“Like a colony of ants descending on a honeydew plant,” she had stated with a serious expression as she described the odd effect silence seemed to have for her. “The pieces of me get smaller and smaller, and there’s nothing to fill the gaps but fear.”

This may have been the first time in Shino’s relatively short life that an outsider of his clan had used an insect simile in his presence. For a moment all he could feel was surprise, until the meaning behind her comparison settled uncomfortably in his chest.

He could relate to this feeling. It instigated a brief sense of camaraderie (he wasn’t alone in this, which created a spark of something that may have been connection), but it was at odds with an irrational flash of resentment at her for making him feel anything at all.

But as she began to list the ways these feelings were isolating her from her team, the resentment settled and commiseration began to take its place. And as she confessed struggling with her own sense of self-worth, and the conflict that inevitably arose counteracting perception of the self with feedback from others about your inherent value…

Shino felt closer to her at that moment than he had to anyone else in a long time. He was not in the habit of sharing his feelings, even before when they had been manageable and shareable, especially his potential faults. As these things were usually reciprocal and he was largely considered unapproachable by his colleagues, this may have been the first time anyone had ever shared their burdens with him.

The urge to say something to share his appreciation for this show of trust, for the brief reprieve- she broke the hold that this vexation had taken on his body and for once he couldn’t feel the disassociation creeping- grew the longer she spoke. But he wasn’t sure what to say.

He wasn’t ready to share, so he couldn’t properly reciprocate.

So, he hummed out a note in a similar pitch and vibrancy as his insects. Hoping to contribute to her sense of peace in some small way as he floundered over the fact that words had largely failed him.

The smile she gave him felt special. Quietly enduring, but the glimmer of gratitude gave it a brightness that was almost tangible. Shino couldn’t help but reciprocate under his coat.

Now that Shino had a better understanding of Sakura’s motivations, something he shared readily with his father and clan members wanting them to feel safe, he no longer saw Sakura as a bed bug quietly hitchhiking into their home and making a nest for herself (one of his less charitable thoughts towards the beginning of her stay). Instead, he considered her something closer to a refugee seeking asylum. With this in mind, the next time she passed out on the soil of the gardens he felt comfortable picking her up and carrying her into his home.

She startled awake in his arms as he was walking, and he stilled with bated breath. Would she attack without realizing who he was? Would she jump back in instinctual disgust, a rejection common to those not in his clan? The wash of fear of disappointment down his body was swift and dramatic, and his kikaichū vibrated in displeasure in response.

But she did none of those things. Her first instinct was alarm, which was perfectly natural as a shinobi. And then she seemed to recognize him before she could do something drastic, like punch the glasses off his face. But her next impulse, her eyes still half-lidded from slumber, was to snuggle into his chest with a contented sigh, finding obvious solace in the insects still vibrating madly in his chest.

Shino couldn’t help but stare down at her in astonishment, feeling oddly… accepted? Relieved? Trusted? Perhaps some combination of the three. The positive emotions he felt at that moment made something deep inside of him unclench, ever so slightly. His own brand of unburdening. He couldn’t help but sigh as well, and resisted the odd impulse to stroke her head, as he was in the habit of doing with his insects in the odd moment of contentment.

Shino had originally planned to deposit her on their sofa and then perform his exercises in the sanctity of his bedroom, but now he felt oddly comfortable doing so with her there. He settled her onto his sofa (cozy on a collection of pillows), placed a throw blanket over her body, and then sat on the floor in a meditation pose.

He purposely ignored his father staring curiously from the doorway. This was a practice very rarely seen outside his clan, not specifically for proprietary reasons but that it tended to alarm his colleagues. He had a strong suspicion, though, or rather a hope that Sakura would be different.

He kept one mind on the kikaichū as he moved them through a series of commands that tested their strength, agility, and ability to work together as a unit, and another mind on Sakura slumbering in the couch. He witnessed her relax with an odd feeling of validation that further emboldened him.

After he had finished, he asked his father in a quiet voice if she could join them in the conservatory for tea. This was a special room in their household, designed and crafted by his mother, who had loved his father dearly but had trouble adjusting to the near perpetual dim in their home. This room was created as a compromise, a room specifically designed to let in the light. Too bright for day use, but Shino was fond of sitting there at dusk to watch the sunset.

Shibi had given him a long look that promised future discussion, but acquiesced easily enough.

And Shino found it oddly enjoyable. Relaxing in his mother’s creation with the pink-haired girl as she looked curiously about the room. Taking in her quiet awe and obvious contentment as she absorbed the coloured light and the chattering insects. It was a feeling he shared with few people, but perhaps the war had changed him too. Made him better appreciate the value of company as it helped him manage his chaotic emotions.

There was a sense of peace that prevailed in the space. One without expectation, only patience. A quiet acknowledgment that the trauma of the war and their anticipated recovery could allow for room to breathe. He relished the moment and considered that he wouldn’t mind creating more with her in the future.

She clearly agreed, if her request edged with a grating sense of desperation meant anything. It was jarring after such an evening, even spoken in her newly reticent dulcet tones.

Sakura was still not okay.

But it made Shino feel better in general to know that he was helping. And perhaps it was okay occasionally to not be okay.

Chapter Text

“If you find yourself constantly trying to prove your worth to someone, you have already forgotten your value.” 

-Anonymous

Sakura ran for the forest, hot tears distorting her vision, gasping for air. Her destination was instinctual at this point, as she jumped over tree roots more from memory then visual aid, and she passed the Hydrangeas lining the Aburame property with hidden relief.

It felt selfish to force her misery on someone else, so she found a nearby bench rather than continuing for the family estates. Sakura curled into the seat with a heavy heart, digging her fingers into her thighs until it became uncomfortable- she dug further just to physically feel something. She released a shaky breath and the tears started to pour down more liberally. She was caught between replaying the conversation in her head and listening for insects. She wished she could say the insects were winning.

A presence at her left, just the flickering of a shadow, made panic rush through her body. She shot out of her seat with her fists in front of her, still struggling to breathe and wishing for the cloak of darkness. Sakura blinked through salty tears several more times before she gradually made out Shino’s distinctive hair and glasses and she longed for the relief this boy had granted her during her previous visits. Instead, her body began shaking, stressed, overwhelmed, and she sank to the floor in tremors.

“Can’t….breathe…” she gasped to him with wild fingers clawing nearby dirt.

The boy instantly sank to the floor next to her and began gently rubbing his hands up and down her back. He eventually grabbed one of her shaking hands and started humming in a rhythm that highlighted his breathing.

The action might have surprised her some weeks ago, at the start of reconstruction. Aloof Shino was never very physically or emotionally demonstrative. Sakura has had time to see the ways he’s grown since their Genin days, though, and the startling difference that familiarity could bring. It made her wonder, in an offhand way, how many of Shino’s reticent habits were self-imposed from fear of rejection.

She eventually calmed down enough to manage breathing without hyperventilating, and the panic from earlier was beginning to recede. Shino helped her sit on the bench with a strong grasp on her fingers and easily sat down closely beside her.

“What’s wrong? You don’t usually enter our compound in tears.”

Sakura took another shuddering breath and shot him a watery smile. “I’m sorry for...” she offhandedly gestured to her face, “all of this.”

Shino didn’t bother to acknowledge the apology. Instead he frowned, rubbed against her back with strong fingers, and repeated his question.

Sakura appreciated the pressure. It was grounding. She looked around and took in her surroundings as she tried to find something to say. This corner of the garden seemed to be filled with primarily leafy vegetables; cabbage, beets, celery, chard, lettuce, spinach, and onions carefully surrounded by hyssop, mint, and sage to naturally deter cabbage moths and ants. She only recently learned about the benefits of companion planting, and took in the sharp smell of mint with enjoyment.

Eventually she looked back at him, appreciating his patience. “Sasuke asked me to marry him.”

Shino’s hand stilled, and Sakura could just see the furrowed brow above the line of his glasses. Said boy looked her up and down and stated the obvious. “You’re not happy about this.”

Sakura felt a harsh laugh escape her. It tasted like pain. “He told me love…. love was like… hm. Did you ever pick up rocks as a child? I liked the sparkly quartz, and I used to come home with handfuls in my pocket for my mother to find when she did the laundry. Sasuke equated burdens to rocks, and told me love was like carrying so many shared burdens they weighted you down. That it somehow pinned you in place emotionally and tied you to another person.”

Silence as the Aburame boy took that in. When he eventually spoke it was slowly and with unusual articulation, as if he was tasting every word before it left his mouth. “Burdens. So… the Uchiha wants you to marry him because you have shared trauma and responsibilities.”

“I guess.”

It only took a moment for Shino to narrate what she had been thinking when Sasuke said that. “Then you should be fit to marry any of your comrades.”

Sakura snorted, not at the words so much as the extremely dry delivery. And then another memory rushed to the surface, and she frowned sadly. “He was… pleased. By my recent changes in behavior. He somehow mistook my quietness, which is only there because I’m too anxious to be happy and too afraid to make sound- he somehow mistook this for maturity. And he said he was pleased that I learned to be less annoying.”

She had started crying again, her arms wrapping around herself with a tight desperation. “He was also happy I’ve stopped a lot of my hospital work. And it doesn’t matter that I feel awful for being too weak to help people heal, for not taking up the legacy that shishou left me, because I should be home to take care of the children anyway.”

Sakura shot him a watery glance. “And Naruto was there, happy and smiling and agreeing with everything Sasuke said because he was clearly desperate to keep his teammate in the village. But I’m not convinced Sasuke will stay, even if I agree to marry him. Even if I agree to carry his children. I wouldn’t be enough to deserve that kind of support.”

The conviction in her tone must have caught his attention because he asked, “Do you know that for certain?”

Sakura let out a miserable sound. “I overheard him making plans with Kakashi. He’s actively planning to take up a similar role as Jiraiya had, with the desire to spend minimal time in the village.”

Another long moment filled with her harsh breathing, and then the boy next to her clearly stated, “That is incredibly selfish.”

The validation was incredibly welcoming to hear. “Considering everything that happened with his clan, I can understand why he might not want to stay. But I don’t think he quite understands what he’s asking of me.”

Shino nodded. “If he did that would be worse. Why? Because he would be actively taking advantage of you. Labour, especially in a household with children, should be shared.”

“Ah.”

They lapsed into silence. Shino eventually took her jittery hand again and held it tightly in his. Sakura took several shuddering breaths, feeling spent and pleasantly empty. She gripped his larger hand in appreciation, breathing in the mint in the air and the ever-present hum of insects.

She eventually took a moment to look over at her companion. It was harder to consider Shino a boy in this context, when he sat so close to her, as he was so much taller than her and his features had matured from childhood. His sat on the bench like a young man confident in his abilities, his stance wide and relaxed. Most of his face hidden behind fabric, and Sakura briefly lamented not being able to see more of his expression and the pleasantly shaped curve of his jaw and chin.

That is something Sakura had only recently discovered. The fact that Shino could be quite expressive. The mirth was sadly lacking, chuckles and wide smiles few and far in between, but anger, frustration, and melancholy appeared periodically. She had only begun to notice in his family home when he had shed his outer coat and she was able to take in the turn of his mouth, but now that she had picked up on his tells she could get a good feeling of his mood even with the cover.

He was preoccupied, picking slightly at her callouses in a distracted manner, but generally comfortable. Several of his kikaichū had wandered out of his sleeve and crawled over the ridges of her knuckles in curiosity. She smiled as she saw how Shino gently stroked the beetles with his other hand.

He spoke suddenly, in an almost stilted manner, drawing her attention back to his face. “It’s okay to need time to recover after you’ve been wounded, even if those wounds are harder for other people to see. If returning to the hospital is as important to you as it sounds, I’m sure you’ll be back in due time.”

The next breath was harsh. Hard. She really wanted to believe him, she did, but… “What if I can’t?” she confessed in a whisper. “What if I never go back to normal?”

The young man next to her scoffed. “You don’t need to mold yourself to fit other people’s expectations. You may never return to how you felt before the war, but that’s okay. Other people shouldn’t expect you to.”

Sakura felt a rush of frustration and anger at his easy words, the feelings hot, ill-fitted and awkward despite the familiarity. “But I’m useless now. I was so much better before the war.”

He sighed at her display of temper. “You will have to find a new normal. If you want to push towards being comfortable doing hospital work, go do that, but do it because this means something to you. Not because of something like peer pressure.”

Irritation continued to prickle beneath her skin. He wasn’t okay either. She had witnessed some of his more recent mood swings, his own struggle with irritation and anger mingled with sudden bouts of apathy. Something hateful and terrible prompted her to throw that in his face, surely someone who was so clearly having issues managing their own emotions shouldn’t get to tell her how to own hers.

But…

But he was still holding her hand like it was something precious. Gentle strokes on insect bodies had gradually transitioned into him lightly petting the skin of her hand. And he was sitting so close that the warmth and gentle buzzing of his body bleed into hers in a way that was distantly comforting. And he was here, trying.

He interrupted her thoughts. “Not all change is bad. If… if the war had never happened, would you still be here, holding my hand? Would you still have made friends with my clan, eager to learn about gardening and insects? Would you have found so much pleasure in my family’s conservatory?”

Her feelings settled as she considered him. “No,” she admitted quietly, “probably not.”

Sakura squeezed his hand tightly, to dismiss any thoughts that this confession might be a rejection. “I guess I was so caught up in the disparity with how I used to be and the negative reception that I didn’t fully consider the potential positives. Do you… do you agree with Sasuke? Am I better when I’m quiet?”

There was a strange anxiety in her chest as she considered this. The quietness was new and strange, and perhaps in some ways it was here to stay, but it didn’t make her feel like herself. During those moments in the Aburame household, when the quiet was shared and comfortable Sakura found she enjoyed it, but with friends and at work it made her feel broken. Like she was starring in a play of her life, but she kept missing her cues, and suddenly the story was happening without her and the opportunities for participation kept getting smaller. Her role wasn’t just disappearing, it was changing to conform to the other actors who were suddenly ruling her story, making her sense of self… negligible. Her voice disappearing.

She didn’t want to be quiet. Not all the time. It felt too much like a capitulation.

And just as she had felt when Sasuke admitted she was better without a personality, she was sure that if Shino said anything to the affirmative that her heart might break.

“No,” he eventually stated with carefully measured words. “I have enjoyed sharing time with you when we’re both able to quietly relax and appreciate the moment, this is true. But it’s more important to me that you be yourself. I… struggled a lot with my Genin team at first, but over the years we have gotten to a place where we can all accept and respect each other for who we are, and this acceptance has been one of the most important things to happen in my life. You deserve to experience that too.”

He wasn’t looking at her as he said this, staring down at his sandalled feet with consternation. Sakura felt herself blush as she considered his words. Despite his serious tone, that was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her.

“When did you get so wise?” she asked with a slight tease, feeling relieved and thankful and placidly happy for the fact that he was there.

He shrugged casually, but the slight pull on his cheeks made her think he was smiling. “My dad. He frequently gives me these sorts of encouragements.”

“Lucky you,” Sakura stated with a grin. “And lucky me, that you’re here to give me secondhand Shibi-san advice.”

His eyes were suddenly on hers. “Lucky?”

She nodded. “I am happy to have gotten to know you better, Shino. While I still wish the war hadn’t happened, simply to prevent all that death, I’m glad that it led me here.”

Sakura was fortunate that Shino’s blush trailed so high up his cheeks. She was still able to catch a glimpse of it, even with his head hunched into his coat. His voice when he eventually spoke was quiet and barely perceptible. “I’m happy you’re here too.”

The moment lapsed into a comfortable peace, as they continued to hold hands and stare into the gardens. Sakura had rarely experienced such unadulterated companionship since she was a child, free of drama and adult expectations, and Sakura felt herself put just a bit more faith and trust in the young man beside her.

Chapter Text

“Peace begins with a smile.”
― Mother Teresa

Shino tore into the training grounds with fervor. His negative emotions had coagulated in his chest, into something noxious and inflamed. He felt feverish as he threw his body at obstacles, relishing the pain in his knuckles, the smarting in his shins, the pressure and subsequent burst of materials under his sandalled feet.

He didn’t resist the urge to destroy, ravage, shatter, utterly wreck everything within the vicinity.

His kikaichū protested against his chest as an angry drone, responding to the rush of cortisol and adrenaline and reacting instinctively. Shino kept them contained, not trusting himself at the moment to treat them with the respect he was not currently affording the rest of his body.

The minutes dragged on as the epicenter of his destructive urges grew. Shino threw kunai with perfect precision into decimated pillars, impatiently waiting for the effects of exercise to begin to mitigate the intensity of his feelings. This had worked as a coping mechanism for him so far, but as the minutes stretched and the ache in his overwrought muscles continued to be overshadowed by the choking burn in his chest, Shino was forced to accept that the maelstrom of discontent and irritation was here to stay.

He threw himself away from the training grounds in frustration and headed towards the Aburame compound, easily ignoring the soreness in his calves as he picked up the pace. He had hoped to arrive home calm and collected, and he just knew his father was going to comment on his lack of composure. With the curling tendrils of negativity wrapped tightly around his body, it was easy to feel resentful of his father’s censure and attempted interventions. It fed into the burn, his anger, fear, guilt, and resentment coalescing and blistering as it spread.

By the time he stopped abruptly in front of Sakura, clearly re-potting some herbs in front of his home, his entire body felt scorched and branded and oversensitive. He watched her take him in with a frown, eye lingering on his heavy breathing, his bruised and bleeding knuckles, his twitchy fingers.

His reaction felt combative and his instincts predatory. He couldn’t stop from leaning into her space, his irritation spurring him into action, his hands raised and ready to react.

His tone was contentious. “What are you still doing here?”

She crossed her arms and stared up at him with a raised brow and contemplative pursing of her lips.

Shino pushed just a bit closer, until he could practically feel her chest. To what end, he wasn’t sure, but the simmering agitation demanded instigation and engagement. It necessitated conflict.

It was then that she was able to see his eyes, as his glasses slid forward down his sweaty nose as he looked down at her. As he took in the startling viridian of her irises.

He wasn’t sure what she could have possibly discerned, but one moment she was defiantly opposing his attempts to intimidate her into reacting, and the next she had carefully grabbed his forearm and directed him to sit at one of the stools in his family’s kitchen.

He resisted, his body still thrumming from negative pent-up energy. Instead he began to pace along the space the hallway afforded, shedding his coat and sunglasses with mindless irritation as he went. He distantly heard as she prepared tea, and was surprised to hear her speak.

“What happened?”

Her voice carried and abruptly interrupted his thoughts.

Instinct told him to remain silent. He had little desire to narrate his thoughts. To admit to the extent that he was losing control. To open himself up to potential rejection or shame because of his distinctly un-shinobi-like behavior.

She allowed him to continue pacing, mute except for the soft sound of his footsteps on aged wood, for another minute before she interceded.

“Shino,” she stated softly, standing just ahead of him. He frowned at her insistence. At the vulnerability leaking from her voice as she stated his name with easy familiarity.

Had they really gotten to that point in their friendship?

He stopped abruptly and considered the ease and informality she had demonstrated in his kitchen. Shuffling across the old wood in too-large, borrowed slippers, comfortably and competently making tea and cutting winter melon, well aware of where they kept the food and dishes. Well aware of his preferences. He considered the casual, shared intimacies that had become their norm. Sharing benches holding hands with a quiet, comfortable camaraderie. Reassuring hugs following meet-ups with her team, which continued to be an emotional affair.

He resumed pacing, the irritation biting and restless until he moved. He tensed the muscles in his arms and considered the number of times Sakura had opened up to him. It made sense to return the favor and share his current misgivings, but… the ill feelings still wriggling bitterly didn’t want him to. He wanted to be alone- to brood, to distract himself, or to break something he wasn’t sure.

Sakura was gone by the next time he turned back around. He fought off the swell of irrational resentment, despite the fact that he had just wished her gone. He considered how ridiculous it was that he somehow wanted to be alone and with company at the same time- this train of thought was cut abruptly as he heard a shuffle of feet in his kitchen, a muttered swear, and then a clang. Another set of steps, and then he heard a soothing melody bleed out into the hallway from his departed mother’s assuredly dusty radio.

He resisted it for several minutes, striding to and fro without purpose with heavy, agitated steps. Gradually the music worked to soothe some of the knots inside, and he started to breathe in time with the slow cadences.

Another couple of minutes and he felt relaxed enough to go back into the kitchen and sit beside his friend. He reached for the small fork and ate pieces of melon, enjoying the background noise.

Eventually she spoke again, in a soft tone that was little more than a whisper. As if afraid to set him off. The guilt inside pulled, just as the music continued to soothe.

“Are you okay?”

He frowned as he considered the sweet piece of fruit in front of him. “I… I do not feel okay,” he finally admitted to the fruit. He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder from Sakura’s hand.

“Did something happen?”

There was a long pause as he considered that, before muttering, “Nothing compared to the war.”

She snorted so indelicately that Shino found himself glancing over at her despite himself. He took in the dirt lingering on her sleeves, the dried sweat along the sides of her face, and the awkward ponytail that her hair was barely long enough to be contained in. He carefully didn’t look into her soft eyes and even softer smile.

“The war changed how we respond to things. It’s not ideal, but it does mean that we can be more sensitive to some things than we were before,” she stated, squeezing his shoulder lightly.”And you were the one to tell me that this change isn’t always bad, right? So what’s going on?”

That bit of advice wasn’t appropriate in this context.

“Change isn’t always good, either,” he stated solemnly.

She gave him a look and pointed silence. Shino resisted the urge to sigh loudly.

“I thought the dynamics within my team were well-established. That we were familiar enough with each other to gauge our moods and behaviors, and close enough to offer each other support. But…” Shino recalls the scene from this morning in a series of slow blinks. “Kiba has been impacted by the death of his mother during the war, and his sister seems to be struggling with heading and rebuilding their clan. He was aggressive this morning- more so than usual. He didn’t temper his hits when sparring with Hinata and she was bleeding and bruised by the end. I went to defend her and to offer Kiba my support, which…. did not end well.”

Shino frowned as he remembered Kiba shouting about sticking his nose in other people’s business. His refusal to temper his hits, his irises wide and fists shaking with fear. Akamaru faintly growling from the background, his fur stained with brown. They want Hinata to be strong enough to protect herself, right? She needed to be challenged to survive.

And Hinata, typically submissive and non-confrontational, had agreed with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

She had always been transparent to Shino, masking reticence as subtlety even as she blatantly followed the Uzumaki around, even as her expressive face communicated all of her emotions. She wanted to stand on an even foot with them. Be worthy of her paramour’s interest. He couldn’t fault her for that, but beating on your teammate is not constructive.

Shino did his best to communicate all of this to Sakura while holding the warm cup of tea. Relishing the warmth. He couldn’t quite stop himself from adding at the end, his tone forlorn and quiet, “They also never seemed to notice the aberration in my own behavior. That I might want support too. That I might not be feeling okay.”

It was at this point that Sakura grabbed hold of his chair and dragged it closer to hers. She then reached out and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

Shino didn’t realize he still had tension in his shoulders and his chest until her warmth spread through his body and loosened them. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he savored the heat and pressure of her body, his insects vibrating happily in response. Sakura let out a content hum at the sound, which made Shino smile as he reached up to grab at her forearm.

They stayed in this position for a long while. Long enough for their tea to cool, long enough to see the shadows of the room change as the sun moved across the sky.

Eventually Sakura spoke. “Your teammates have changed because of the war too. You will all have to relearn each other and how best to offer support. In Kiba’s case, it could mean space for him to come to terms with his loss, although you certainly know him better than I do.”

She gave a slight self-deprecating huff.

“In any case, it’s good to remember that it can be easy to be self-absorbed when you’re hurting.” Her face twisted unpleasantly. “It’s still kind of hard for me to consider how other people are feeling, which was my entire purpose at the hospital. It’s terrifyingly easy to slip back into fear, and then I’m so overwhelmed by emotion that there isn’t really space for anything else. Even small acts of compassion seem to take a concentrated effort.”

The smile she shot him was twisted, her eyes somber. His grip on her arm tightened, wanting to help ease her sorrow.

“So don’t feel too bad about their apparent obliviousness. I think everything needs some time to address their pain and their anxiety from the war. And if you feel like you need their support, I encourage you to share with them how you’re feeling- just like you’re doing for me right now. Because they probably don’t know. They can’t read your thoughts, and your body language is usually hidden beneath a coat.”

She shot him a wry look and a smile with significantly more mirth.

Shino considered that as he started absentmindedly stroking Sakura’s forearm. It took courage to share, but he felt the better for it. Lighter. His emotions, once openly addressed and validated, were no longer struggling to choke and burn him from the inside out. The discontent was still there- wiggling in his chest if he thought too much about it. But it wasn’t insistent enough to block everything else out.

Perhaps she was right.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into her hair as he leaned his head down to rest on top of hers.

“Thank you,” she reiterated and squeezed him just a bit tighter.

Shino took another moment to appreciate her, memorizing the smell of her shampoo, the weight of her arms around him, the warmth of her body. He admitted to himself that now that he had a sampling of this easy intimacy, he was already looking forward to experiencing it again with the girl beside him. He had seen the trials and tribulations of his fellow clansman attempting romantic endeavors, and he always considered intimacy as the most challenging aspect to overcome.

He never knew that it could be so… effortless. That it wasn’t something to overcome, but rather cherish.

Shino resisted the impulse to drop a kiss on top of her head, not quite ready to make that overture. And a few moment later, upon hearing his father outside the room, he gave her arm a final squeeze and got up to collect their dishes.

She shot him the sweetest smile he’s ever received and felt his heart skip for a moment. He’s not sure what his returning smile communicates, but he hopes she can pick up on his gratitude, respect, and fondness for her that words alone couldn't ever quite convey.

Chapter Text

“People spend a lifetime searching for happiness; looking for peace. They chase idle dreams, addictions, religions, even other people, hoping to fill the emptiness that plagues them. The irony is the only place they ever needed to search was within.”

-Ramona L. Anderson

Sakura took a deep breath. Then another. And then, with the same nerve that got her through most of her training as a shinobi, she pushed open the hospital doors.

The lobby was busy and Sakura kept counting her breaths, hands kept loose so they couldn’t collect tension, as she made her way further inside. Past the screaming red-faced infant and her visibly panicking mother, past a Genin team huddled around a teenager clutching a clearly broken leg, his expression tense and white from pain. Past an older woman in tears grasping a weathered bag.

The sound was an affront, which Sakura expected, but it was also the physical manifestation of suffering that brought back the trauma. Witnessing their pain and their emotional struggle with handling it. She had a sudden bout of empathy for her deceased shishou and the mocking she had heard from older shinobi about her infamous struggle with blood and the many vices she engaged in to stay in control.

Sakura understood suddenly, on a visceral level, that it probably wasn’t the smell of and appearance of blood alone. It was everything - the sense of panic, for medical staff and patients alike experiencing a medical emergency. The grief of surviving family members, which ranged from a stoic, desolate sense of hollowness to inconsolable tears. The fear and pain- so much pain. 

Sakura’s vision shifted as she thought about it and the room changed. The screaming clamor and distorted faces of suffering from her patients in the war juxtaposed over the scenes in the waiting room. The familiar smell of blood, burnt skin and hair, and ozone permeated the space. The emotional onslaught was intense; her body was flooded with fear, her muscles tensing preparing for the next attacker, preparing to jump into action to shove medical chakra into a mutilated body hoping her intervention would be enough. And the guilt- she should be better than this. Her shishou had been better than this. What good was she if she couldn’t save the people around her?

“Haruno-san?”

Sakura jolted in place, her vision clearing and one of her nurses became visible. 

Fuck. 

She took quick stock of where she was and what she was doing- thankfully nothing obviously incriminating. Her fists were clenched, but no chakra was pooling in her fingertips. She probably looked tense, but this woman wouldn’t know why.

“I’m sorry Mira-san, I had some trouble sleeping last night.”

Sakura forced a smile and willed her fingers to unclench. The nurse gave her a questioning look that Sakura ignored.

“I’ve been called here to provide a medical consultation, is that right?”

The nurse nodded. “Dr. Higa is expecting you in the operating room.”

Sakura smiled again, relieved when it felt less strained and awkward the second time around. “Thank you Mira-san, I will be on my way.” She swept away towards the operating room, marching as assertively as possible to regain a bit of dignity. The whole performance still felt like a facade, beneath the internal broiling of fear. Sakura engaged in more purposeful breathing, particularly as she opened the doors to the operating room and was hit with a strong whiff of blood and sterilizing agents.

Routine. Habit pulled Sakura immediately towards the sinks where she thoroughly washed her hands, donned gloves, put on a face mask and contained her hair. Getting too long again, but she hadn’t had the energy or wherewithal to cut it.

Then it was fairly simple to find the good doctor. Sakura carefully focused on his face without looking at the patient. “Dr. Higa, good morning. What can I do for you today?”

The older man gave her a quick assessing look up and down. One that Sakura had experienced frequently at the beginning of her tenure at the hospital but that had subsided once she had demonstrated her aptitude for surgery and other medical procedures. Some part of Sakura felt indignant that it was back again, after everything she had gone through.

She focused on that feeling. The righteous anger over this perceived slight. It felt more constructive than fear.

Her jaw squared and her eyes steely, Sakura stared and waited. He seemed to sense her nerve and backed down.

Good.

Still holding onto this feeling, Sakura let herself finally look at the patient. The man was intubated and clearly unconscious. Most of his body was covered except for a square patch of skin. He looked more like one of the operating dummies than a real person, and oddly this loss of humanity was what allowed Sakura to clear her head.

There was no fear. No pain. No suffering. This she could do.

The doctor explained that the patient had contracted a bacterial infection that he wanted removed to make the surgery safer. Sakura pressed her fingers into the patient’s skin and felt for the infection. She also uncovered the reason for the surgery- a ruptured appendix. It would certainly be a lot safer to operate once the infection had cleared.

Using chakra to flush out the foreign substance was as easy as breathing. In a regulated environment, accompanied by the hum of machines and the beeping of a heartbeat, Sakura felt in control. There were no explosions to distract her, no screams to guilt her, no enemy to fear… Sakura shoved the thought away before it could do more damage.

“Okay, the infection has been taken care of. Did you want me to take point during the surgery to ensure the surrounding tissue is healing?”

The man acquiesced and began to operate.

Routine. It was habitual again to use healing chakra to ensure the blood flow was stemmed and to encourage the surrounding cells to safely replicate. Sakura watched with satisfaction as even the incision wound was healed with a simple touch.

This sense of pride followed her out of the operation room. Sakura walked back through the lobby where she was accompanied by more pain and misery. A woman profusely vomiting in the corner, sobbing into a bucket in between bouts. A crying toddler his parents couldn’t console, a heavy rash spread throughout his small body. The overstimulation humbled her pride as she scurried through the noise to get past the hospital doors.

She stopped to breathe once she was by a tree that stood beside the property boundary. But breathing could only accomplish so much. Sakura still felt over-sensitized, like a live wire in need of grounding. Restless and on edge and emotionally overwhelmed after everything that had just happened.

She instinctively turned to where she might be grounded. First she checked the training grounds where Team 8 frequented, and then into town. She spotted Shino sitting with his team outside a restaurant with a breath of relief. She automatically fell into the seat beside him and reached for his hand under the table without thinking about it. And then when that wasn’t enough, she leaned her head on his shoulder and listened for his hive.

The insects in his chest hummed pleasantly. 

Shino was quiet and still for several seconds before his fingers reached into her hair. Gentle strokes and the sound of insects created the sense of peace she had been looking for. She squeezed his hand in appreciation and whispered a thank you.

“Uh, Sakura?”

Sakura shifted just enough to peer up at a confused Kiba, his eyes darting between her and his teammate with confusion and speculation. And Sakura suddenly realized how public this demonstration of affection was. She had fallen into the habit of reaching for Shino at his house to the point where doing so outside of it felt natural.

She felt herself turn red and fought the urge to remove herself from Shino’s shoulder for proprietary sake. Knowing how sensitive he was to rejection, and selfishly wanting more comfort. She compromised by enjoying another solid minute of his fingers gently scratching her scalp, of the smell of fresh herbs coming from his clothes, before she sat up beside him.

She decided not to let go of his hand and gave it another squeeze.

“So we’re just not going to talk about this?”

Sakura shot Kiba a look. “What is there to talk about?”

“Well, are you guys together?”

Sakura frowned up at the Inuzuka. Her first instinct was that this was an oversimplification of what she and Shino shared- that this trust and camaraderie and sense of easy intimacy couldn’t be as simple as “they were dating”. That felt too superficial to ascribe to someone who regularly saw the worst parts of yourself, all those ugly tidbits that made you real and tainted and human , and still thought you were worthy of their time and consideration.

And then she had to wonder if that was what she wanted. Something more romantic with the young man gripping her hand beside her. Who immediately attempted to comfort her when he could tell that something was wrong. She peered up into what was visible of Shino’s face as she considered if she had ever been attracted rather than merely comforted by him. 

Her heart had definitely skipped a beat when he smiled at her- Sakura was stunned to discover Shino was rather beautiful when he smiled, as rarely as this happened. And she was rather fond of his nicely defined chin, and he had rather nice eyes, and she definitely liked that he was so tall…

Sakura suddenly realized Shino was glaring daggers at his teammate. 

Oh.

Sakura felt her face fall, the disappointment stronger than she would have suspected. The insinuation that they were romantically involved made him angry ?

She tried to release her hand in his, only for Shino to tighten his grip and look down at her. What little she could see of his expression was complicated. He squeezed her fingers and turned back to his teammate.

“She’s my best friend.”

Sakura felt a part of her heart melt at that- his declaration and his quiet but assertive tone was very sweet. And it felt good to realize that he was her best friend too. To realize that this bond was just as deep and reciprocal for him as it was for her. She would be there whenever and wherever he needed her. No question.

But-

The disappointment still lingered, and that’s when Sakura realized that she would have liked to try something romantic. Still- this friendship was far too important to her to let it go adrift because of mixed expectations.

She gave Kiba a steady nod in solidarity.

“You’re joking, right?”

She frowned at the tattooed man for his skepticism, but it was Shino who responded,  “Why would you think that?”

Kiba turned towards their female counterpart in Team 8, who so far had been quietly assessing. “Hinata, you remember right? Naruto clearly said that the Uchiha was going to propose, and it’s not exactly a secret that Sakura’s been obsessed with the guy since we were kids."

Sakura felt something drop in the pit of her stomach remembering her confrontation with her teammates. 

“I told him no,” she stated as solidly as she could, trying not to think about how close she came to saying yes. Not because of any misplaced crush she had held onto since she was a pre-teen- no, that had solidly disappeared after the first betrayal, and the comradery they had built belonging to Team 7 had vanished the moment he impaled her. No, she felt pressured because of the expectation of people around her. That this was supposed to happen. That Sasuke somehow deserved this for coming back and it was her duty to comply.

Shino was absolutely right when he mentioned how hard it would be, especially if Sasuke spent most of the time out of the village. How lonely and isolating it would feel. How difficult it would be to raise any children alone. But didn’t duty entail sacrifice?

And there was a part of her who longed for the simplicity of earlier times, when an innocent crush on a boy and a friendly rivalry with a friend were the most significant concerns in her life. Sakura wondered if retreating back into the mind-space (back into this prescripted role) when she had thought she loved Sasuke could help her regain the other parts of herself by association. So she could become more normal.

Thank the deities that Shino had been there to help reassert her own worth. That he helped reinforce her belief that she deserved a partner who was invested in her as a person, someone who wanted her to be comfortable being herself while growing in a healthy direction. Someone who was willing to put in the work to overcome relationship difficulties to ensure their marriage was built on a solid foundation of trust and established communication.

“Huh. I guess that would explain why I haven’t seen him around recently.”

That hit a sore point, and Sakura could feel herself pull back from the table. Naruto had already made it clear that he was disappointed in her for “driving Sasuke away”. As if she was personally responsible for his behavior following her rejection.

“So what were you up to if you weren’t with your team?”

Sakura took a deep breath before answering, still feeling on edge from the experience. “I was at the hospital helping a doctor out with a surgery.”

“That’s great Sakura!” Hinata finally interjected with a kind smile, and Sakura was momentarily relieved for the support.

Until Kiba gave her that look again, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Really? I thought you had stopped going to the hospital because you couldn’t handle it.”

She wanted so badly to mouth off at the guy and say something sassy, like ‘I obviously handled it just fine’, but she hadn’t, had she? She had another flashback in the lobby and could barely make her way inside and outside of the building. And then the first thing she needed to do was find her safety net, which at the moment felt less like the support from a good friend and more like a juvenile security blanket. She rocked to her feet feeling ashamed and wanting to leave, but not sure what to say to make that happen naturally.

Thankfully she didn’t have to. Shino had followed her out of her seat and stared down at his teammate, somehow more upset than ever. “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t give you the right to act like a jackass and hurt other people.”

“Hey, I was just stating the facts-”

“The comments were unnecessary and unsupportive-”

“It’s not my fault she can’t handle it-”

“Clearly she did if she went there for an operation-”

“She’s just being overly sensitive-”

“Boys, stop it!” Hinata’s tone was stern and her posture defensive. Miraculously, both young men turned to look at her instead of continuing to verbally spar. Based on their reaction, Sakura understood that this was unusual behavior for Hinata, who stood her ground and glared at both of her teammates.

Hinata eventually turned to Kiba, who was scowling in the distance with his arms crossed against his chest. “Kiba, we are a team. We should be supporting each other. So if Shino connected and found a best friend to provide comfort and encouragement, we should be thankful. We should be celebrating. We should not be trying to make her feel bad.”

Kiba snorted and when he spoke, his tone was waspish. “Comfort? What comfort does Shino need? It’s not like he lost any family in the war. Not like us.”

Sakura’s gaze immediately shot to Shino, who was fairly scowling in discontent, his fists balled and his swarm buzzing aggressively in his chest. She clearly remembered how upset and frustrated he had been some weeks ago when he came home from training. How dismissed and unseen he had felt by the people whose acceptance meant so much to him. She found herself stepping forward next to him and talking back to Kiba without much thought.

“The war wasn’t easy for anyone. I know it can be harder to see other people’s pain when you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean that pain isn’t there.”

Kiba’s expression was mulish. “What pain ?”

And Sakura just about lost it. “Are you being fucking serious right now? The pain of losing our homes. The pain of being forced to watch our comrades die day after day for months. The pain of watching so much senseless destruction, and the pain and misery on all of the survivor’s face etched into their fucking skin like scars. The terror of dying, and losing everyone you care about.”

“We’re shinobi, we should be used to death-”

“No,” Sakura argued, filled with such a sense of self-righteous purpose it was empowering. And Sakura realized that she had never really legitimized her experiences out loud; commiserated about the effects of her trauma with Shino, yes, but never gave voice to how bad things had really been.

She continued with this same tone, reaching out to support Shino’s back while she spoke so he would understand that he was seen. “The missions we conduct for the village as shinobi are temporary and structured. We have direction, we have instructions, and we are generally not assigned more than we can handle. We have support we can reach out to when we return, from medical professionals in regulated environments to the love of friends and family and the security of home.”

Sakura found herself shaking her head. “The war was different. It felt unending. We were kept segregated from friends and family for most of the conflict, as we were cooperating with other villages. We had no structure and comfort and familiarity to return to and reorient ourselves after countless gruesome encounters. We were running out of supplies towards the end and just told to keep pushing . Everything we use to give our lives meaning and to keep ourselves sane was a luxury we couldn’t afford. And yes- we’re all familiar with death. But I realized there’s a big difference between occasionally failing a patient due to circumstances outside of my control, and watching most of my patients die because I didn’t have the supplies or the chakra to help ease their suffering.”

When Shino spoke up next to her, his voice sounded raw and wounded. “I’m sorry your mother passed away, and you’re right that I’m fortunate to still have my father. But I worried every day that he would disappear and I wouldn’t know. I worried that I would end up like so many of our comrades- butchered and burned and drowned. That all our efforts would amount to nothing, and we would all end up dead.”

Kiba’s resentment shone, but Hinata didn’t give him the chance to make this worse. “Go home,” she ordered, “and be thankful for every family member and clan member you still have. We have all lost someone.”

He did as he was told with a snarl, and Hinata turned back to face them. “I’m sorry for the way my teammate behaved,” the shy girl told her with a small bow.

Sakura frowned. “I understand that a lot of people are struggling. I just…” she peeked a look at Shino, not quite sure how to say what she was feeling. She wanted Shino to feel valued and respected.

Hinata gave them a sad smile. “I understand. For what it’s worth, I am genuinely happy that you have each other.”

Sakura smiled at the girl as she felt Shino’s back underneath her fingertips begin to untense.

She grabbed his hand, holding tightly as she guided them back in the direction of his family’s estates. He was quiet, and she could feel his lingering discontent in the strength of his grip and his strident steps. She just slowly and calmly rubbed her thumb along the inside of his wrist as they walked. Then she started to hum, some melody she distantly remembered from the old radio.

They didn’t run into anyone else they knew, which was a relief. Sakura had no more patience for drama today. And she was happy that her actions seemed to have a positive impact. Slowly but surely his steps evened out and he was rubbing along her fingers gently in return.

The retreat into Shino’s house was a relief Sakura didn’t realize she needed. She’s not entirely sure when the soft darkness of familiar walls had started to feel less like a temporary sanctuary and more like the security of home, but it did now.

Shino sighed in obvious relief next to her as well and shucked his jacket off tiredly. Sakura happily took in the entirety of his face, which was indeed rather pleasant to look at. He took off his sunglasses and then gave her a side-eyed look full of speculation.

“Shino?” she asked curiously.

It took a long minute of silence and careful deliberation on his part. Sakura patiently waited for him to speak, recognizing intuitively that this moment was important. 

He stepped towards her lightly, and reached out to place his large hand on the curve of her chin, cradling her face towards his. Sakura felt butterflies from somewhere in her stomach rise up in attempts to join his hive.

“I’m proud of you for going to the hospital today.”

Sakura felt herself blushing slightly, her body flooded with warmth. She didn’t realize how much she wanted this recognition until he gave it. She was trying. She wasn’t where she wanted to be yet, and that produced its own frustrations and internalized inadequacies, but she was trying. It was good to hear that he recognized her effort and that it was as important to him as it was to her. Because of her.

“Thank you,” she eventually whispered between them. 

He nodded. “Also I… regarding what Kiba mentioned earlier, I…” Shino uncharacteristically stumbled on his words as he tried to put his thoughts into some sort of order. He then darted forward and lightly kissed her nose.

Sakura stared at him with wide eyes. “Shino?”

Shino still looked flustered. “I’m not opposed to… more.”

More? It only took a moment for Sakura’s brain to make the connection between the light kiss and ‘more’. “You mean more than being best friends.”

He nodded.

“Okay.” 

Agreeing was one of the easiest things she had ever done. And there was something to that. With Sasuke, especially as a teenager, her desire for physical intimacy felt rooted in jealousy and emotional instability. The high highs of capturing his attention and the low lows of constant rejection. It was… hard. And some part of her convinced herself that love was supposed to be hard. That relationships were hard. That they necessitated pain and perseverance. Strife. 

But this? There was excitement in her chest, but it didn’t feel like drowning. She carried hopes in her heart, but they didn’t feel unreachable. There was fear in her fingertips, but Shino felt safe.

His relief was palpable and Sakura was treated to one of his beautiful smiles, one that transformed his face into something warm and receptive and accepting. She felt herself return it with ease. He grabbed her hand again and led her to the living room, pulling her to sit beside him on a wicker couch. Sakura wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Kisses? Touches? Something more?

Instead he pulled her into his chest, curled his arms around her securely, and happily kissed the brow in her forehead. Sakura almost laughed, that this was the thing he had been wanting to do, but it felt right. She knew that they were still adjusting from the war, and that everything else would come with time. So she snuggled further into him, listened to the calming sound of his hive, and kissed his chest in turn. And she felt cherished at that small moment. And it was enough.