Hoshigaki

Be Wary

"Wait."

Shino stopped in the threshold of the house with his hand hovered over the door knob when he looked over his shoulder, and Shibi sighed. His son had started looking so... tired lately and wasn't home as often as he used to. When he came home after meetings or fulfilling his duties as clan head, his boy wouldn't be home until the following afternoon after that day's practice in clothes he was starting to recognize more easily as both Sakura's and Kiba's. And even then, Shino would be gone two days in a row. Sometimes three. It would only be right for him to grow concerned with each instance. "Come here for a moment, please."

Shino shucked off his sandals and approached his father. Shibi inspected him like he expected to find some sort of wound or physical discomfort that caused his son to be so exhausted, but nothing. Just a the slight steep to his shoulders and something he couldn't quite understand lurking behind dark lenses. 

"How much have you excelled in your training?"

Shino's brow furrowed at the question. "We're getting better an an appropriate rate," he answered. "There have been no fallbacks as far as I'm concerned, and Kurenai-sensei is a commendable teacher."

Shibi peered closer at him. "And your teammates? Are they treating you well?"

"Of course," Shino replied instantly, affronted his father would suggest otherwise. Shibi blinked at the offense taken—protectiveness? Of others outside the clan? Amazing! "Sakura, Kiba, and Akamaru are remarkable in their own rights."

The clan head was pretty sure that was Shino-speak for 'they're my friends and I love them'. Perhaps he was worried over nothing and his friends were as good as he believed them to be. True they'd only been over to the house once, but it also had been to help Shino to his room when he couldn't walk. 

At least they were helping him out of his shell and getting him to be happier, especially after Torune.

But even then, why did he still look so tired?

He was curious to know. So he asked.

"Because training's been quite... arduous. Nothing to be concerned of, Father, I assure you," Shino said.

"If you're sure," he relented. Still, he found his son's words hard to believe, but he let it go. His eyes drifted to the kitchen counter and to the package residing on it, and suddenly, he remembered the other reason he called his son over. "Something came for you earlier, no sender. My insects haven't detected anything malicious."

He watched apprehension and a sliver of fear enter Shino's face, and he saddened. Fear? For what? From whom? And why wouldn't Shino talk to him about it?

Shino carefully made his way to the box and, with slightly shaking hands, untied the string around it and unwrapped the parcel.

Inside was a glass box peppered with small holes with three live butterflies inside, each with crystal clear wings lined with burnt orange.

"The Greto Oto. Can carry nearly forty times its own weight and travel thirteen kilometers an hour for short intervals," Shibi noted with interest. "A splendid gift, and a rare one at that. Have you an idea who sent it?"

Shino stared at the butterflies for a few distrustful seconds before meeting his father's eyes. "I... have absolutely no idea."

::

Kiba stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. It was Tuesday, a chakra training day, four days since that fucker—

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it for a few seconds. He breathed out, bracing himself against the sink as he looked back in the mirror. Opening his mouth wide, he stuck his tongue out and looked at the jet black seal that glared mockingly back at him. It was ridiculous and far enough back that people who didn't know of its existence wouldn't notice it if he talked.