Chapter 1: The seed
Chapter Text
The mission had started in an unmemorable, almost repetitive way. Shikamaru had been summoned to the Hokage Tower, where he was given a quick rundown of the situation while he stifled a couple of yawns. It was midday, but the tiredness still weighed on him as if he had just woken up and was trying to chase away sleep.
The problem seemed simple: one of the nomadic clans of the Land of Fire had been sighted in a settlement near a civilian village, causing disturbances to the non-ninja citizens.
Nomadic clans, renegades, exiles... to Shikamaru, they were all one and the same. Groups of ninja who had refused to submit to the control of a central government and now roamed the fringes of hidden villages, taking menial jobs for nobles or anyone who could pay them for their skills in espionage, infiltration, and assassination.
Of course, if the Akatsuki were a real pain in the ass, these nomadic clans were little more than a minor nuisance. They barely managed to attract the attention of the larger villages; they were like a swarm of annoying insects that had to be dealt with only when they started to become too much of a problem.
The team Shikamaru had assembled this time included Shino and Kiba, who hadn’t had a decent mission since their teacher retired and Hinata left the village a couple of months ago for some “special training” with her father—probably something dull and elitist related to her future as the leader of the Hyuga clan. Honestly, he didn’t care.
On the way, Naruto joined them unannounced, clearly bored out of his mind. His team was on indefinite hiatus: Tsunade was still busy training Sakura in senjutsu, and Kakashi and Yamato were engaged in some high-level mission—probably something Shikamaru didn’t want to know about either.
Before he left Konoha, he had recruited Rock Lee and Neji. Well, Neji, rather, because the Byakugan was always useful on any mission, no matter what kind. But, as was typical of Lee, he decided to show up and join without even asking, with all his endless energy and talk of youth. Shikamaru had neither the time nor the inclination to argue, so he just let it be.
The six youths advanced stealthily through the forest, the air filled with calm. The tall, leafy trees of the Land of Fire provided natural cover but also concealed dangers.
And as usual, Shikamaru led the team. His strategic mind had been crucial for both high-risk and low-stakes missions like this one, but he still considered it all a monumental bother. Beside him, Neji advanced with his usual elegant bearing, his serious gaze, and his ocular technique activated to detect threats.
The best decision would have been to place Neji Hyuga at the back of the line or in the center, where he could use his Byakugan to detect traps or dangers others might overlook and ensure no one was following them. Shikamaru knew this perfectly well. It was the most logical, efficient strategy.
However, since the disaster of the Sasuke rescue mission, in which Neji and Chouji were on the brink of death, Shikamaru couldn’t help but feel the need to keep them as close as possible whenever they shared a mission. It was as if keeping them far away was equivalent to signing their death warrant—one they had narrowly escaped through sheer luck against the Sound Four.
Over time, that fear began to fade in Chouji’s case. After all, they had been companions forever, and the Akimichi demonstrated in every mission that he could perfectly fend for himself. Shikamaru knew the same applied to Neji: he was an exceptional ninja—strong, calculated, and capable. But that didn’t make the unease disappear entirely. Every time he saw Neji join his team, something inside him remained tense. Fortunately, these situations were not very frequent.
That fear wasn’t irrational—or at least not entirely. It was fueled by a memory that still refused to fade: the sight of Neji years ago, lying on the battlefield with his chest brutally pierced, his long dark hair disheveled and partially covering his pale face. That image remained vivid in his memory, like a persistent shadow that haunted him from time to time.
It wasn’t just the fear of seeing Neji die. It was the terror of losing any of his teammates while they were under his command. Shikamaru didn’t want to admit it, but those memories haunted him more than they should.
He sighed. Every mission was the same. He needed to stop thinking about those impractical nonsense that only hindered his leadership.
“Neji, make sure you check the perimeter before we set up camp,” Shikamaru ordered in a low, almost lazy tone.
Hyuga nodded silently, stepping away from the group to fulfill his assigned task. The others began preparing an area to rest since it had been at least three hours since they left the village and they still hadn't seen anything unusual, though none of them let their guard down.
As Neji walked away, Kiba slumped down onto a nearby rock and sighed heavily.
“Boring missions like this always make me tense.”
“It was either being bored here or being bored back at the village. Besides, you’ve been tense lately anyway,” Shino replied in his monotone voice.
The Inuzuka, who had already begun throwing small stones at the trees in annoyance, let out a laugh.
“Sure, sure, you're right. It's one of the drawbacks of coming from a clan so closely related to animals, huh? Lately I feel like I'm going through a second puberty and it sucks” he finally said “Can't we talk about something interesting?”
"Something interesting?" Naruto asked with a yawn. "Like what?"
"I don't know, girls, for example. What kind of girls do you like?" Kiba suggested, with a smile that showed his barely visible fangs.
Shikamaru, sitting against a tree with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. Great. Now he’s going to start with this. As usual, always attentive to details, he knew exactly what Kiba meant by that absurd phrase “going through a second puberty.” He was aware of the changes and oddities in the behavior of all his generation mates; after all, as a strategist, he always kept an eye on the bigger picture.
In Kiba's case, the strange behavior had begun shortly after his 17th birthday. The dog ninja was noticeably restless, especially around women. It wasn't long before Shikamaru put the pieces of the puzzle together. Shino's complaints, who mentioned it with an evident tone of annoyance every time they met in the Hokage Tower, finished giving him all the necessary information: Kiba had reached canine maturity. Or what was the same, he was now almost permanently horny.
“Ah, that’s an excellent idea, Kiba!” exclaimed Rock Lee, who was sitting cross-legged, his posture so upright that it seemed impossible for him to be relaxed. “Talking about the flowers of youth always cheers the spirit!”
Naruto laughed. “Well, I guess I like strong girls, you know, like Sakura.”
Kiba snorted. “Sakura? Please. She yells at you all the time. I like girls with more… how do I put it? More energy, but not hitting you every five minutes.”
"Like Hinata?" Naruto said, tilting his head with a knowing expression.
Kiba stared at him for a moment before turning red and laughing. “Hinata doesn’t count, she’s like my best friend. Besides, I don’t think she’s interested in anyone but you, idiot.”
Naruto blinked a few times before looking away, uncomfortable. “Huh? What?”
Shikamaru let out an inaudible sigh.
Shino remained silent, as always, watching the conversation from behind his dark glasses. But when it was his turn to respond, there was a brief pause before he spoke.
"My preferences are none of your business," he finally said, his tone sharper than usual, causing Kiba to raise an eyebrow.
"Come on, Shino, don't be boring. I'm sure there's someone out there you like," Kiba insisted, mockingly.
Shino straightened his posture and added firmly, “If there was someone, I wouldn’t share it with you guys. Much less with you.”
Naruto blinked in confusion, but the dog ninja laughed. “Oh, come on, man, it’s not that serious! We’re just chatting.”
“I have nothing more to say,” Shino concluded, crossing his arms, though he must have anticipated that his teammate wouldn’t back off so easily. Finally, he added, “But if I had to choose, I suppose someone who isn’t afraid of insects.”
Kiba laughed so hard that Akamaru, who was lying nearby, raised his head. “Good luck with that, Shino! What are you going to do, search through the Aburame girls?”
“Not necessarily,” Shino replied.
Lee, for his part, put a hand to his chest and said enthusiastically, “My heart belongs only to Sakura! Her fiery spirit and determination inspire me to be a better ninja every day!”
Naruto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Because that’s going to happen.”
Meanwhile, Shikamaru kept his eyes half-closed, more attentive to the sound of the wind through the leaves than to the conversation that, somehow, kept evolving into more absurd debates about who had the best "type."
Do they really have nothing more useful to talk about? he thought, though he couldn't deny that the exchange helped alleviate some of the boredom accumulated by the mission. Still, he preferred to stay out of it. Conversations about girls always seemed more problematic to him than any battle strategy.
With a lazy movement, he leaned back against the tree trunk. As long as they didn’t involve him, they could continue their little theater.
And then, Naruto, as if he had read it, turned to him with a mischievous smile. “Hey, Shikamaru, what about you? What kind of girl do you like?”
Shikamaru opened one eye, irritated, and shrugged. “I don’t have time for that stuff.”
Kiba laughed. “That’s a definite no! Come on, Shikamaru, no one can be that cold all the time.”
Shikamaru let out a long sigh. “Girls are troublesome. And besides, aren’t we supposed to be on a mission?”
That seemed to calm things down a bit, at least enough for Shino, his voice unwavering, to close the topic. “Shikamaru is right. We should rest.”
Thanks, Shino, Shikamaru thought as he closed his eyes again. But of course, Kiba couldn’t help but let out one last mocking comment. “Rest? Or just avoid admitting that no girl can put up with you?”
Shikamaru decided not to dignify that with a response.
They stayed silent for a while, during which Kiba didn’t stop moving restlessly, probably complaining in his head about something like the heat, the lack of action, hunger, the grass itching his skin, or some other stupidity. It wasn’t until a couple of minutes passed without anyone saying anything that Kiba decided to speak again.
“I hope there are pretty girls in that civilian village we're going to. At least it's not one of those infiltration and spy missions where we have to stay in the same spot watching for weeks. Although, well… I'm not saying that the lack of women can really be a problem…”
“What the hell are you talking about now? What does the lack of girls have to do with any mission? Are you trying to say that you miss Hinata? “ Naruto asked confused.
Kiba laughed mischievously. “Come on, don’t play dumb. Days without girls... haven’t you ever thought about something like... you know, between guys?”
The silence that followed was as uncomfortable as it was explosive.
“That’s disgusting!” Naruto shouted, while Rock Lee seconded him enthusiastically.
"Don't be ridiculous," Shikamaru intervened.
Shino made no comment.
“Wait, wait, listen! I swear this is a true story,” Kiba said with a grin that was equal parts amused and challenging before launching into his tale. “My mom told me that years ago, a all-male squad got trapped in a remote place for weeks. No supplies, no nothing. When they were rescued, it turned out they had... you know... done things with each other. Things came up; a couple of them are even together to this day. Really, it’s more common than it seems, just open secrets.”
"What?" Shino asked, visibly moving away from his teammate.
“It’s true!” Kiba insisted, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And I mean, if you were in a really desperate situation, what would you do?”
"Not that!" Naruto protested, horrified.
"Oh, sure,” Kiba replied. “But if it were Sasuke, I bet you wouldn’t mind, huh?”
Naruto turned as red as a tomato, but before he could retort, Shino intervened.
“Enough,” he said, his tone firmer than usual. His posture, always calm, now seemed rigid. “Such comments are inappropriate.”
Kiba laughed, enjoying the others' reactions. "Look, I'm not saying I'd like to, but to be honest, it wouldn't be the end of the world, right? Especially if we're talking about someone like… I don't know… Neji."
The name fell like a bomb in the middle of the conversation.
“He’s as pretty as a girl, isn’t he?” Kiba added nonchalantly. He raised an eyebrow and let out a mocking laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never noticed how beautiful he is. If I had to pick someone from the group... well, I wouldn’t mind if it were him.”
Naruto blinked, puzzled, while Rock Lee seemed to be trying to formulate a response. Shino, on the other hand, visibly tensed, his brow furrowed in disapproval.
But after a moment Naruto, though clearly uncomfortable, couldn't help but nod awkwardly.
“Well… I guess so… I mean, he has long hair and that face and those eyes and lashes… Many times I even confused him with Hinata from behind…
Rock Lee, who had been listening silently until then, slammed his fist on the ground, as if declaring something important. “Neji isn’t just beautiful! He’s the epitome of elegance and discipline! But that has nothing to do with that absurd story, Kiba.”
“See? Even Lee agrees with me,” Kiba scoffed, turning to Shino. “What do you say, Shino? I’m sure you have an opinion on this.”
"I think you talk too much, Kiba," he snapped coldly.
The Inuzuka raised his hands, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just saying what everyone is thinking.”
Shikamaru watched with an expression bordering on absolute irritation. It was incredible how, even in seemingly simple situations, Kiba managed to turn everything into a hassle.
“Look, I'm not saying it's going to happen, but admit that Neji is...”
Shino stood up abruptly.
“Enough!” he warned, his tone low but loaded with a dangerous tension that made even Kiba blink in surprise.
Shikamaru watched from his position, analyzing every reaction. Kiba, as always, was being an absolute nuisance, crossing every possible line just to see how far he could go. Naruto, predictably easy to provoke, kept falling for his games. But Shino's reaction was unusual. His posture, his tone… He had never seen him so angry.
Interesting, Shikamaru thought, as his gaze slid to Rock Lee, who seemed completely oblivious to the implications of the conversation. Lee, as if he had suddenly remembered something important, also turned to him.
“And you, Shikamaru? “ he asked in a conspiratorial tone, as if they shared a secret ”Don't you think Neji is beautiful?”
The question caught him off guard, completely pulling him out of his analysis. All eyes turned to him, and for the first time in the entire conversation, Shikamaru felt thrown off balance.
“Do I think what?” he asked.
“About Neji,” Lee repeated, with the same intensity as if he were interrogating him during a training session.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, his mind carefully analyzing the words. The truth was, he had never stopped to think about Neji in that way. Sure, he was aware that the Hyuga possessed a unique, almost ethereal beauty—it would be blind to deny it—but that didn’t mean he had associated it with anything physical or romantic. Still, his mind, always quicker than his intentions, couldn’t help but conclude: Well... yes, Neji is very beautiful. Too much so for a guy, even.
Before the conversation could go any further, the atmosphere shifted.
"There's something approaching," Shino exclaimed, becoming alert.
Shikamaru reacted immediately, his mind going into tactical mode.
“Take positions. Where’s Neji?”
“He was checking the perimeter,” Naruto replied, alarmed.
A figure emerged from the trees, its movements agile and unearthly. Its appearance was unsettling: a thin, unnaturally tall, almost insectoid man with glowing black eyes and limbs that moved with precision.
“Bad day to be here,” the figure said, his voice echoing.
Shikamaru cursed under his breath.
“Kiba, Shino, protect the flank. Lee, Naruto, with me. We need to find Neji.”
The enemy gave him no time to plan further. With a quick movement, he launched a net of black chakra that trapped Rock Lee and Kiba.
Shikamaru tried to analyze the situation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Neji. Something in his intuition told him this wasn’t an ordinary enemy, and the fact that Neji was alone unsettled him even more. Perhaps it was déjà vu from having fought an opponent whose appearance disturbed him—a figure that dangerously evoked the formidable presence of an insect. The man before them reminded him perilously of Kidomaru, which only heightened the tension.
The cracking of branches alerted Shikamaru before the rest of the enemies emerged from the foliage. Just seconds later, a shower of shuriken cut through the air, forcing the remaining members of the team to scatter.
“Watch out!” Kiba shouted, as his dog Akamaru jumped up beside him, ready to fight.
Shikamaru dodged the shuriken with a speed that was not his usual attitude, while observing the situation. In the blink of an eye, six more figures materialized between the trees, dressed in dark clothing, their eyes shining with an intensity and blackness that was not normal.
"They said that Konoha ninja weren't that weak," he heard one say.
" You’re mistaken if you think this will be easy,” Kiba replied confidently, though his position suggested otherwise. His gaze shifted to Akamaru, already in attack mode.
Suddenly, Shino stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding behind his glasses. Insects swarmed out from his body, spreading rapidly and encircling the enemies.
The ninjas retreated, but they had no time to react. A booming sound echoed as Naruto, with his characteristic overflowing energy, appeared, leaping toward the group with his fist wrapped in chakra.
“Rasengan!” Naruto shouted, striking one of the enemies with a violent spiral that hurled him several meters away.
Shikamaru watched the scene with a hint of irritation as he saw Naruto’s impulsiveness. At this rate, it’ll only make things worse... he thought, analyzing the movements of the other enemies.
One of them, the leader who had attacked them first, observed as his companions fell and locked eyes with Shikamaru.
“What are you waiting for? Attack him!” the leader ordered, and three of his men charged toward Shikamaru at full speed.
Shikamaru didn’t move. When they were close enough, he made a simple hand gesture. Immediately, the shadows beneath his feet stretched like invisible threads, immobilizing the attackers in an instant.
Too predictable, he thought with a faint smile as the shadows held them in place.
The enemies struggled against the shadows to no avail while Akamaru charged forward with a series of bites that disarmed the three.
With the leader now isolated, Shino advanced, his gaze icy. Before the leader could react, Shino’s insects surrounded him completely, leaving him paralyzed. Shikamaru simply watched, exhausted but relieved. His mind was already calculating how long it would take to regain the mission’s pace after this small setback.
“I can’t locate Neji,” Shino suddenly said.
“What do you mean? He couldn’t have gone far,” Shikamaru muttered.
“That’s not what he means,” Kiba said, trying unsuccessfully to free himself and Lee from the sticky black chakra web. Then he and Akamaru began sniffing the air. “It’s... his essence, his scent. It changed suddenly. Something is blocking it.”
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Meanwhile, in a nearby clearing, Neji found himself face to face with one of the nomadic clan’s members. He immediately recognized her by the tattoo that ran along her left arm, with patterns resembling spider legs, extending up to cover her shoulder and part of her face. Her appearance was tribal, adorned with rustic jewelry made of bones and teeth, as if she aimed to embody the ferocity of a beast.
Neji had detected the ambush the moment one of them appeared within the field of vision of his Byakugan. He was ready to activate his defensive and offensive techniques, convinced he could dispose of them without support. His clan had already provided all the necessary information about these nomadic clans: pathetic renegades who relied on attacking in large numbers to compensate for their mediocrity.
Inferior ninjas, the Hyuga clan leader had told him. Weaklings.
Disdain flashed through his mind. Cowards, he thought, preparing to show them just how insignificant they were compared to the power of the Hyuga clan. But his arrogance didn’t have time to translate into action.
The attack was as swift as it was precise. A senbon needle sliced through the air and struck the weak point of his Byakugan, the back of his neck. The pain was sharp, but the real impact came with the horror of understanding what it meant. Not only had they caught him off guard, but they also knew one of his clan’s most closely guarded weaknesses.
Fear seeped into him like poison. Who were these individuals capable of uncovering one of the Hyuga clan’s deepest secrets? The confidence that had accompanied him seconds ago crumbled, leaving a void of uncertainty and... terror.
A name crossed his mind like a shadow. Kidomaru. The only person who had managed to exploit that vulnerability in the past. But Kidomaru was dead. Wasn’t he? That thought, which should have been comforting, twisted in his mind, unable to dispel the panic taking hold.
If he was dead, how could anyone else have this information?
There would be time to reflect later—if he made it out of this. For now, he was in a position of complete disadvantage. The senbon needle, coated in some unknown substance, had left him paralyzed, unable to move a single muscle. By sheer luck—or perhaps a cruel coincidence—although it had pierced his neck, it hadn’t hit any vital points.
The venom, or whatever it was, coursed through his body. He could feel the liquid spreading through his veins like a river of molten lava, and his Byakugan confirmed his worst fears: a toxic green substance was rapidly dispersing through his bloodstream and chakra network, contaminating everything in its path.
However, something didn’t add up. Given the alarming rate at which the substance was spreading, he should already be dead. But he wasn’t. His heart continued to beat strongly, pumping the threat through his system.
This isn’t just poison, he thought, horror sinking deeper than the needle itself.
His attackers had left him alone, scattering into the forest. Only the woman, whom Neji suspected had launched the attack, remained in the clearing, looking at him with a cruel yet childlike curiosity—the kind of look one gives when pulling the wings off a butterfly, watching it writhe in agony.
“The seed has been planted,” the woman said with a smile before turning and calmly walking away. “You’ll bloom soon, my dear.”
Neji collapsed, paralyzed, a strange sensation spreading through his body, while the distant shouts of his teammates filled the air. He hadn’t even had the chance to warn them about the ambush. All because of his damned arrogance—he should have fled the moment he spotted them. He should never have underestimated the enemy, thinking he could handle them alone.
The world seemed to spin at a strange speed. The toxin, whatever it was, was beginning to take effect, and although his Byakugan clearly captured what was happening around him, his mind and body seemed disconnected.
“What… what’s happening to me…?” he murmured, barely bringing a trembling hand to his chest. A wave of intense heat washed over him. His breathing became irregular, and an unfamiliar sensation began to invade him: a mixture of vulnerability and an instinctive impulse that he couldn’t understand.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman's figure disappear into the shadows, leaving behind an eerie laugh that vanished into thin air
Neji tried to calm his mind, but the heat spreading from his abdomen to his chest continued to grow, along with a strange pulsing in his chakra that felt out of place, invasive.
The sound of hurried footsteps brought him back to reality. It was Shikamaru, followed by Naruto and Shino, who had split from the rest to search for him.
“Neji!” Shino called out upon spotting him lying on the ground. He rushed to his side, trying to help him up.
“Neji, what happened?” Naruto asked, alarmed, while Shikamaru moved forward.
“I was... attacked,” Neji managed to say, his voice barely a whisper. “Something was injected into me... I don’t know what it is.”
Shikamaru frowned, carefully analyzing the scene. Neji looked pale, but there was something else. His typically stoic features showed an unusual vulnerability, and his labored, uneven breathing didn’t go unnoticed.
“We need to get him out of here,” the squad leader decided, taking control.
Shino knelt beside Neji, abandoning his futile attempt to help him stand. His eyes, hidden behind his glasses, betrayed visible tension. “This isn’t just a simple wound. Something is affecting his chakra system, just as Kiba said—something is blocking it.”
“Great. What now?” Naruto asked, clearly agitated. “If more of those guys show up...”
“Shino, carry Neji. Let’s regroup with the others and reorganize,” Shikamaru ordered.
“That’s not necessary,” Neji interrupted, making an effort to stand. Although his legs trembled, his pride forced him to straighten, even though he could barely move. “I can walk.”
Shino looked like he wanted to argue, but a glance from Neji stopped him. Shikamaru observed him for a moment before nodding.
The group began to retreat toward the camp, but the atmosphere was tense. Neji said nothing more, but inside, he knew something was terribly wrong. Each step amplified the strange pulsing sensation in his body, as if something inside him was stirring.
Back at the camp, Rock Lee and Kiba had finally managed to free themselves from the sticky chakra web, though both looked exhausted.
“Neji, are you okay?” Lee exclaimed as he saw him arrive. “We were worried about you.”
“What happened?” Kiba asked, instinctively sniffing the air. His nose wrinkled slightly, but he didn’t comment further.
“An enemy attacked him with some kind of substance,” Shikamaru explained. “We need to figure out what it is before it gets worse.”
Neji sat on the grass, feeling the stares of his teammates on him. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he knew he couldn’t hide the effects manifesting within him for much longer. Gods, he felt an uncontrollable urge to cry and didn’t know why.
“Oh man, why does he smell like that?” Kiba muttered, no longer bothering to cover his nose with his hands. His sensitive sense of smell was picking up something strange.
“Smell like what?” Naruto asked, frowning, probably thinking it was another of Kiba’s jokes.
“I don’t know... it’s a smell so...” Kiba leaned slightly toward Neji. “Damn it!” he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him as if trying to dispel something.
“Stop being an annoying dog,” Shino growled, stepping between Kiba and Neji. His tone was colder than usual, making Kiba back off with a snort.
“Can’t you smell it? Don’t your insects smell it? It’s so strange, so... sickeningly sweet. Dude, I’m getting dizzy. I feel nauseous.”
“I don’t smell anything,” Lee said, puzzled.
Shino seemed about to strike Kiba.
“Enough!” Shikamaru interrupted, exasperated. “We could be surrounded by potential enemies, and you’re worried about smells. We need to focus.”
Neji closed his eyes, trying to ignore the conversation. Great, as if he needed someone to tell him now that he stank. At that point, the idea of crying didn’t seem so far-fetched. But the heat remained, growing from his abdomen to his chest, accompanied by a sensation he couldn’t describe. His breathing was labored, each inhalation a piercing reminder of the invader coursing through his body, consuming him from within.
He clenched his teeth tightly, his face impassive—or so he hoped. He could barely hear the instructions Shikamaru was giving. Pain was an enemy he was familiar with, one he had faced countless times, but this... this was different. It was liquid fire burning more fiercely than the cursed seal ever had, spreading through his chakra network like invisible blades.
Proud as he was, he refused to utter a sound. He couldn’t afford to appear weak in front of the others. He was a Hyuga, a prodigy, and Hyuga didn’t give up, didn’t beg, didn’t break. But that resilience, cultivated over years, began to crack under the unbearable oppression of the pain.
The heat grew with each passing second, soaking his forehead with sweat. His eyes burned, and his throat felt as if it were closing, as though the toxin were suffocating him from within. His body trembled slightly—a betrayal he despised but couldn’t control. Despite his efforts, his body gave out once more.
He collapsed again with a dull thud, his knees hitting the damp earth. He heard the concerned reactions of his teammates, voices rising in the dim light, but the words came distorted, as if echoing from the bottom of a dark lake. Pride pushed him to try standing again, but his body didn’t respond.
For the first time in years, Neji felt fear. A deep, primal terror that froze his determination. What’s happening to me? he thought as the stabbing pain in his chest made him want to scream. He wanted to cry from the agony, but even that, he couldn’t allow himself. Tears weren’t worthy of a Hyuga.
And yet there they were. Along with his agonized cries.
“Neji!” Rock Lee rushed to him, wrapping him in an embrace when he noticed that, in his desperation, Neji had begun scratching his arms.
“He’s burning up with fever,” Naruto commented after touching Neji’s forehead.
“Rock Lee, Naruto,” Shikamaru ordered quickly. “Take him back to Konoha. You’re the fastest. Lady Tsunade needs to see him immediately.”
“Understood,” Lee said, carefully lifting Neji. “Don’t worry, Neji! We’ll get you to Lady Hokage. She’ll know what to do.”
Naruto nodded firmly, and both disappeared into the trees in the blink of an eye, carrying Neji to the only place where they could get answers.
Meanwhile, Kiba, Shino, and Shikamaru stayed behind, their eyes scanning for any sign of the enemy.
“We need to finish this mission,” their leader informed them. “Move south. According to the map, we’re a couple of hours from our objetive. Let’s quickly finish what we came here to do, and then, with some luck, we’ll find the bastards who hurt Neji and figure out what they injected him with.”
“There are still traces of their presence nearby,” Kiba said, sniffing the air again.
Shino adjusted his glasses. “Whatever they did to Neji could be irreversible if we don’t find the source of the toxin. That should be our priority.”
Shikamaru shook his head.
“You’re forgetting that Lady Hokage is an expert in all kinds of poisons and toxins, surpassed only by Sasori of the Red Sand and Orochimaru—both of whom are dead. If there’s anyone who can keep Neji alive, it’s her. As for us, even though it’s a pain, we still have work to do. We’ll investigate our attackers afterward.”
No one objected.
The three began moving, following the path they had been on before the interruption by the rogue ninjas.
Despite the calm, calculated way Shikamaru gave his orders, he couldn’t ignore the weight in his chest—a familiar, unwelcome heaviness. Of course, he didn’t show it. It wasn’t his style to let others see him lose his composure, but the remorse was there, relentless, digging into him like a deep thorn.
Again.
The word echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain. It was as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, determined to make him relive his worst failures repeatedly. He had let Neji go alone. He had miscalculated, and now this. How hard could it be to break this damned curse?
The image of Neji collapsing, fighting through pain so intense he couldn’t hide it, lingered in his thoughts. The muffled cries, the tears—those damned tears—were burned into his memory. Shikamaru knew it would take a long time to forget them, if he ever could.
The idea that someone like Neji—always composed, always in control—had been reduced to such a state hit him harder than he cared to admit. Perhaps because he valued Neji more than he allowed himself to consider.
If he survives...
The thought was a meager comfort, but if Neji managed to pull through, Shikamaru knew one thing for sure: he would never let something like this happen again. He would never leave him alone on a mission. Not while he could prevent it.
Of course, that would mean more work for him, more problems, more responsibility. What a drag, he thought, but the irony of his own complaint made him crack a bitter smile. In the end, no matter how tedious it was, if Neji lived, it would be worth it.
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The sound of voices was the first thing Neji heard as he opened his eyes. Everything around him was blurry, but he recognized the familiar lighting of the village hospital. His body felt heavy, and a shiver ran down his spine as he realized he still couldn’t move easily.
What’s happening...? he thought, struggling to focus on the voices coming from the other side of the curtain.
“Neji’s condition is serious,” Tsunade’s firm, authoritative voice said. “The initial analysis shows that his chakra system is undergoing a radical alteration. It’s as if his body is adapting to something... but we don’t know exactly what.”
“Adapting?” Naruto asked incredulously. “Be clearer, Grandma.”
“You see, his entire physical structure is changing,” the Hokage continued. “His hormone levels are completely altered, and his chakra is reacting as if trying to balance the imbalance, but...”
“But what, Lady Tsunade?” Rock Lee pressed anxiously.
The medical ninja sighed. “I don’t know how to explain this to you. I’ve never seen anything like it, at least not in this way. But... well, it’s subtle for now, but there are... clear signs of feminization. The human body isn’t designed to withstand a change of this magnitude. If we don’t find the cause and solution, the effects could be permanent... or even fatal.”
“Feminization? You mean Neji is turning into a... a...”
“That can’t be!” Naruto shouted. “There has to be something we can do. What about the enemy? Can’t we track them down?”
“Shino informed me via his insects that they’re handling it,” Tsunade replied. “But until we have something concrete, the only thing we can do is stabilize him. Delay the effects, but not stop them.”
Neji listened in silence, his eyes fixed on an indeterminate point in the room. The fragments of conversation that reached his ears were like sharp kunai, each one piercing deeper than the last. ‘Feminization’... ‘permanent’... Those words seemed to hover in the air.
He clenched the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. It was a reflexive act, a futile attempt to hold onto something—anything—while everything he took for granted about himself seemed to crumble. He had believed, perhaps naively, that at least his body belonged to him. That even though his fate was marked from childhood, even though the cursed seal on his forehead was a constant reminder of his place as a tool of the Hyuga, there was something no one could take away: his control, his discipline.
But now, even his own body was betraying him.
Despair swirled inside him like a storm, and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to scream, break something—anything to release that suffocating sense of helplessness. But he didn’t. He couldn’t allow himself to. Hyuga didn’t cry, didn’t show weakness. That lesson had been drilled into his mind since he could remember.
Suddenly, the curtain was pulled slightly, and Rock Lee noticed. “Neji, you’re awake!”
Naruto quickly approached, his face full of relief but also worry. “How are you feeling?”
Neji clutched the sheets even tighter, closing his eyes. If he was going to fall apart, he would do it silently, where no one could see. Because even now that his body was betraying him, there was still something left to protect: his pride.
Neji attempted to sit up, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Don’t strain yourself. You need to rest,” Tsunade said in a tone that left no room for argument.
Neji looked up at her, his eyes still faintly glowing from the residual activation of his Byakugan.
“What... what did they do to me?” he asked, and although he tried to keep his voice steady, a tremor slipped through his words—a detail that filled him with both anger and shame.
He, Neji Hyuga, should never allow something as insignificant as fear to seep into his voice. It was bad enough that his closest comrades had seen him succumb to panic and pain hours earlier.
Tsunade looked him straight in the eye, her gaze devoid of softness but not harsh either. It was a look laden with responsibility.
“You’ve been affected by a toxin designed to alter your body and chakra. We don’t yet know its exact purpose or how to reverse it, but I promise we will do everything possible to help you.”
Neji’s grip on the sheets tightened. The idea of some unknown force twisting his body and chakra—the core of his existence as a ninja, as a Hyuga—was unbearable.
He nodded slowly. The motion was slight, almost imperceptible, but it cost him more willpower than he was willing to admit. His mind was flooded with questions, yes, but also with a fear he could barely contain. Behind that fear, something darker loomed—a growing intuition that this was only the beginning.
However, in the midst of all that mental chaos, an image unexpectedly appeared in his mind. He didn't understand why, but he wished Shikamaru was there.
It was not like him to seek refuge in anyone else, much less in a companion, and although he would never admit it, not even to himself, the mere idea that the strategist was nearby calmed him in some way.
But Shikamaru wasn't there. He was alone, surrounded by doctors and colleagues who, although they tried to help him, couldn't. And that made him feel more vulnerable than ever.
Chapter 2: The guilt
Summary:
Shikamaru, Kiba and Shino begin to put the pieces together in recent events, realizing that everything is connected and starting to find answers. Neji begins to suffer the consequences of his own arrogance and the toxin (or what is the same, he seeks to get fucked) suffering a horrible emotional breakdown that, little by little, begins to ruin him. Thus, Neji has his first kiss and first sexual relationship (Please, read the hashtags)
Long chapters, guys.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 2: The guilt
The trees stood like columns of shadow under the twilight, wrapping the path to Yufuin, the civilian village, in an unsettling gloom. Shikamaru leapt from branch to branch with a slight frown, while Kiba and Shino followed silently behind him. Kiba's unusual silence—so talkative and annoying just a few hours earlier—was an unexpected blessing, but it didn’t improve Shikamaru's mood. His mind remained stuck on what had happened with Neji, an image he couldn't shake off even with his ability to rationalize everything, to convince himself it wasn’t entirely his fault.
Ah, guilt was such a shit. Thinking that only made him feel worse, but it also made him angry. At himself. At everything.
The first lights of Yufuin began to flicker through the trees: faint, scattered, insufficient for a village just beginning to sink into the night. Something didn’t add up. It was a small town, but not so small as to be this dim.
"I’ll go ahead," Shino suddenly announced, pausing for a moment. "I’ll scout the perimeter first using my insects," he added. His tone was cold, distant, and most importantly, laden with reproach.
Shino wasn’t even bothering to hide his disdain.
Shikamaru understood immediately. The message was clear: “We should have done this earlier, instead of sending Neji alone.”
The squad leader clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to fire back a sharp retort. For hours, he’d been mulling over Shino’s behavior—that protective air every time someone, especially Kiba, mentioned Neji. Since when were they so close? Shino wasn’t the type to form tight bonds easily.
"Sure, go ahead," he finally replied, his tone carefully neutral.
As he watched Shino vanish into the shadows, a fleeting thought crossed his mind: How much of Shino’s resentment was professional, and how much of it was personal?
Kiba, for his part, wasted no time letting out a huff.
"Shino didn’t like your decision," he muttered, breaking the awkward silence. "About not going after Neji’s attackers, I mean. He’s too good a soldier to say it out loud, but... he’s been sending his insects off to who-knows-where this whole trip."
"Fantastic," Shikamaru replied dryly, his patience hanging by a thread. He had always liked Shino: quiet, efficient, never complained about his assignments, and definitely not the type to be a nuisance. It hadn’t been part of his plan to have him as an antagonist, but Shino’s odd behavior since the attack on Neji was grating on his nerves. Besides, he knew just how infuriatingly resentful the bug ninja could be. If he wanted to keep the mission functional, he needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
He turned to Kiba.
"Shino was acting weird even before," Shikamaru said, nodding toward the forest where the Aburame had disappeared. "I mean, Shino’s always weird, but this time I think you were purposely pushing his buttons to annoy him. What the hell’s going on between you two?"
Kiba let out a short laugh, as if he hadn’t expected the confrontation.
"Ah, that," he replied with a half-smile. "You’re right—what I said earlier? It was on purpose."
"And what was the point?" Shikamaru asked, more irritated than curious.
"I wanted Shino to admit something. I have a hunch he likes someone."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than he cared to admit.
"And your brilliant strategy is to annoy him until he confesses something that’s none of your business? Very mature."
"Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I just wanted to know."
"Why do you care?" Shikamaru pressed.
Kiba shrugged.
"Because I’m curious, I guess. And because it’s Shino—he’s my best friend. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little curious about who someone as... peculiar as Shino might like."
Shikamaru gave him a skeptical look.
"And that’s why you brought up Neji? Because, honestly, that was a strange choice, even for you."
Kiba let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well... there’s the thing. I think Shino likes Neji."
Shikamaru blinked, processing the statement.
"And your plan to prove it was to make sexually inappropriate comments about Neji?" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "Yeah, truly a brilliant strategy."
"It was to see how he’d react!" Kiba defended himself. "And I’m not gonna lie, he reacted exactly how I expected. He got mad. Really mad."
"Anyone would’ve gotten mad."
Kiba chuckled briefly, but the laughter died quickly.
"Yeah, well... for the record, I don’t actually think those things about Neji. Sure, he’s got a pretty face and all, but to be honest, I don’t particularly like him."
"You don’t?" Shikamaru asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, aside from you three"—he gestured toward Shikamaru, Shino, and some imaginary point where Lee might be—"almost everyone thinks Neji is uptight, unpleasant, and arrogant. And I’m no exception."
Shikamaru did stop to frown at him this time, but he didn't say anything and continued walking. Kiba took that as an invitation to continue.
"Listen, don’t get me wrong. Neji’s strong and all, but the guy’s a sourpuss. Uptight, pretentious, always looking down his nose at everyone. Did you know I once tried to invite him to a party with the rest of the guys?" Kiba let out a dry laugh. "He looked at me like I’d just suggested he join a circus. He literally said, ‘I don’t have time for such trivial activities.’ What kind of response is that?"
The Nara snorted, more at the story than at Kiba’s words. While he couldn’t deny it sounded like something Neji would say, the way Kiba was talking about him was starting to rub him the wrong way.
"And I’m not the only one who thinks this, you know? Ask around," Kiba continued, his tone rising slightly, as if he’d been waiting a long time to vent all of this. "Aside from you, Shino, Lee, and maybe Naruto, no one really wants much to do with Neji. And sometimes, I think not even you guys do."
Shikamaru shot him a warning glance, but Kiba plowed on as if he hadn’t noticed.
"Lee’s too much of an idiot to realize Neji sees him as worse than garbage. Naruto—well, he just feels guilty about the Chūnin Exams. Shino’s weird, so who knows what’s going on with him. And you? You like anyone who follows your orders without question."
Shikamaru clenched his fists but let the other continue.
"Chouji and Ino don’t even say hi to him when they see him. Even Tenten, his own teammate, only tolerates him because she has to, but you can tell she finds him insufferable. And don’t even get me started on Hinata. Did you know she’s still afraid of him? Afraid, Shikamaru! Of her own cousin! And you know what the worst part is?" Kiba huffed, crossing his arms as he walked. "Neji doesn’t care. He acts like it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of him."
Shikamaru finally cut in, unable to take any more. Now he understood Shino and his anger a little better.
"You know, it’s funny," he said. "Everything you’re saying sounds like you’re pretty obsessed with someone you claim not to like."
Kiba blinked, confused.
"What?"
"I’m saying," Shikamaru continued, stopping to turn and look at him directly, "that if you spend all day talking about Neji—and on top of that, making sexually inappropriate comments about him—doesn’t that make you look bad too? Because now anyone might think you’re homo... or that you’re into Neji."
Kiba’s eyes widened before he burst out laughing, his laughter echoing through the trees.
"Me? Gay? For Neji? Please! He’s the one wearing a skirt!"
"That’s not how it sounded when you said you wouldn’t mind fucking him if you didn’t have another option," Shikamaru shot back with a sarcastic smile.
Kiba raised his hands, still laughing.
"Alright, alright. Listen. I don’t care what other people think. I know exactly who I am and what I like, and I can assure you—I like girls."
"Uh-huh. And what if someone starts thinking otherwise?"
Kiba shrugged, his expression turning, surprisingly, a bit more serious.
"Then let them think what they want. I know who I am. And I know that... well, lately I’ve been acting a little... weird."
"Weird, he says," Shikamaru muttered, raising an eyebrow.
Kiba sighed.
"Look, it’s complicated. You know about the whole Inuzuka coming-of-age thing, right?"
"Of course I do. I looked into it years ago, back when Akamaru got bigger, and you started acting even dumber than usual."
"Thanks for the compliment, genius," Kiba retorted with a hint of sarcasm. "But yeah, it’s that. It’s part of the Inuzuka clan’s beast mimicry technique. We do it to work side by side with our dogs, but there’s a cost. Around this age, the guys go through something like a second puberty. More hormones, more energy, more... you know, impulses."
"Ah, yes, impulses," Shikamaru replied, waving a hand impatiently. "Nice way of saying you feel like humping the leg of any girl who walks by, like a lapdog. Go on."
Kiba looked visibly uncomfortable.
"Don’t put it like that! But yeah, once it’s over, we’re supposed to be stronger, faster, more in sync with our dogs. We gain access to better techniques. But while it’s happening... it’s like I’m constantly fighting with myself! Those first few weeks, I could barely keep my hands out of my pants! And the worst part is..."
"Let me guess," Shikamaru cut him off in a monotone. "You feel guilty because you’ve got these ‘impulses’ while trying to be the good, loyal guy Hinata thinks you are."
Kiba looked surprised but then grinned.
"How do you know about...? Wow. You’re good, you know that? But yeah, that’s it. I want to be a good guy for Hinata, even though she doesn’t even see me that way. But with this second puberty thing, I feel like I can’t control what I do. It’s frustrating."
Shikamaru sighed, rubbing his temples.
"So, in summary, not only are you fighting your hormones, but you also decided to use Shino and Neji as targets for your jokes to distract yourself. Nice."
Kiba raised his hands, smiling nervously.
"Hey, don’t put it like that. I just wanted to check something out, that’s all."
Shikamaru shook his head and kept walking.
"You know, with allies like you, we don’t need enemies." Then he added, "I don’t know if Shino likes Neji or not, and it shouldn’t matter to you either. What I do know is that you need to learn to shut up when you have nothing useful to say."
Kiba laughed, though something in his tone hinted that he’d caught the reproach.
"Come on, Shikamaru. I’m not that bad."
"That’s debatable," the strategist replied, not even bothering to look at him. Yet, despite his sarcasm, a small part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for Kiba.
"Fine, whatever you say, leader." Kiba huffed, half-offended, but didn’t press the matter.
Silence settled between them again, broken only by the crunch of leaves underfoot. Kiba seemed to have learned his lesson—for the moment—and Shikamaru used the reprieve to organize his thoughts. Some of Kiba’s ridiculous comments lingered in his mind, unwilling to be dismissed.
What did he mean by Naruto feeling guilty about the Chūnin Exams? How was it that Hinata was still afraid of her cousin? And then there was that idiotic claim that Shikamaru only wanted people to follow his orders without question. Ridiculous.
But a more peculiar thought crossed his mind.
Shino and Neji? It seemed absurd, but considering how much Shino had been rattled, he couldn’t completely rule it out.
Was it really possible? He recalled their earlier confrontation, when Kiba had thrown out those inappropriate comments and how Shino had reacted with uncharacteristic intensity. It was true that Shino almost never lost his composure, let alone to the point of raising his voice. But then again, it was Neji—his personality alone could provoke the worst in anyone. On that point, Shikamaru had to admit Kiba wasn’t entirely wrong.
Still, this wasn’t the time to get distracted, and there was no useful reason to dwell on it. The village lights were closer now, bringing more immediate problems. Yet, as he advanced, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable thought of Neji—wounded, vulnerable—and the uneasy notion that Shino might have a personal stake in all of this.
The air in Yufuin was heavy, as though the atmosphere itself knew something they didn’t. Shikamaru and Kiba walked cautiously through the empty streets, following the subtle trail Shino had left when he went ahead. The lights were sparse, and the silence was unnatural. There were no laughs, no bustling sounds of a village’s nighttime activity. Only faint, muffled voices and the echo of their own footsteps.
"This doesn’t feel right," Kiba muttered, clenching his fists at his sides. Akamaru, silent at his side, let out a low growl, as though sharing his unease.
"Don’t state the obvious," Shikamaru replied quietly, though this time there was no sarcasm in his tone.
The central square of Yufuin had been transformed into a makeshift shrine under the moonlight. The stretchers holding bodies were arranged in a circular pattern, all facing east, where the moon was slowly rising in the sky. Around them, locals knelt in silence, their hands joined in a gesture of prayer, while singing a low, melancholy chant.
In the center of the circle, an old man dressed in a dark gray robe held a ceramic vessel that gave off a sweet, white smoke. The aroma filled the air, a mixture of burning herbs that Shikamaru didn't recognize, but which seemed to have a sacred purpose.
“They say the moon guides spirits to their rest,” Shino murmured, appearing out of nowhere beside him. His tone was neutral, but there was a hint of respect in his voice. “For them, dying under its light is a blessing.”
He appeared from the shadows, walking towards them with an expression Shikamaru didn't remember seeing before: worry and anger contained beneath his usual mask of calm.
“What’s going on here?” Shikamaru asked, his eyes quickly scanning the scene. Taking in every detail, there were at least 15 bodies, all covered with blankets.
“A joint funeral,” Shino responded, his voice low but tense. He gestured briefly toward the stretchers. “All the dead are male.”
Tension in Shikamaru’s body rose immediately. Kiba muttered a curse under his breath, his face hardening while Akamaru let out a low bark.
“What the hell happened here?!” Kiba gritted his teeth.
Before Shino could answer, an elderly woman approached them, her face lined with wrinkles and weighed down by sorrow. She wore humble clothing, her hands trembling as she bowed briefly in a gesture of respect, as though unsure how to address them.
“You’re the shinobi sent by the Hidden Village, right? From the Leaf?” she asked in a hoarse voice, likely strained by grief.
Shikamaru didn’t miss the fear in her tone.
“Yes. I’m Shikamaru Nara, the leader of this squad. What happened here?” he asked, more formal than usual.
The woman took a deep breath before speaking, as though each word was a struggle. It seemed she might break into tears at any moment.
“Two weeks ago, a nomadic group arrived without warning. They didn’t say anything, didn’t ask for anything. We don’t have much, but we could have worked something out if they’d demanded something! But instead, they just… just attacked. They chose several men at random, regardless of age or condition—even children! They injected something into their bodies. One by one, they started to get sick and…” her voice broke, “they died.”
The woman brought her trembling fist to her mouth, perhaps to hold back sobs or the urge to vomit—maybe both.
Shikamaru felt a knot form in his stomach. The methodology was the same as the attack on Neji. The connection was undeniable, and with it came a sense of panic he couldn’t afford to show.
“Why didn’t you report this to the Hokage immediately?!” Kiba demanded, clearly shaken by what he was hearing.
The woman lowered her gaze, ashamed. Tears ran down the wrinkles around her eyes.
“We don’t have the resources to afford a higher-ranking mission. If we’d asked for a more detailed investigation, we would’ve been ignored or charged more than this village can pay. We couldn’t take the risk, so… we lied. We said it was just minor vandalism problems.” Then, as if afraid they might turn back and leave, she grabbed Shikamaru’s arm. “But please, I beg you to help us! We want justice for our dead! Our sons, fathers, husbands!”
Shikamaru clenched his fists. He couldn’t blame the woman for prioritizing her village’s survival, but that didn’t make the situation any less frustrating. He glanced at Shino, whose face was an impenetrable mask, and at Kiba, who was barely containing his anger.
“This isn’t vandalism,” the dog ninja finally said, his voice low but heavy with gravity. “This is murder.”
“Do we know anything about the culprits?” Shino asked.
“They’d been here before. They come back every few years. About ten minutes from here, they have an improvised settlement. When they came, they’d buy provisions and then continue on their way. They didn’t bother anyone, and no one bothered them—we didn’t even ask questions! But now… they… they…” the woman stammered. “They moved quickly, like demons, attacked, and left before we could react.”
Shikamaru took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. He looked again at the covered bodies.
“We’ll take care of this,” he said finally, meeting the woman’s eyes directly. “But we’ll need all the information you have, even the smallest details.”
She nodded quickly, her relief evident.
As they began to question some of the locals, the tension between the three shinobi of the leaf was palpable. Shikamaru could feel the weight of responsibility increasing with each word he heard, in the face of what the villagers described as a terrorist attack without reason. However, no one could say anything really useful for the investigation, so they decided to go directly to the place where the lady had told them that this clan met when they were passing through.
The settlement appeared like a vestige of the past, hidden in the heart of the clearing, where the undergrowth seemed to have reluctantly receded. The huts, built of untreated wood and thatched roofs, were arranged in an irregular circle. Around them, abandoned tools and extinguished fires marked the recent passage of their inhabitants. The air was heavy with an earthy, sweet smell, as if something more than time had rotted away in the place.
“Ten minutes on foot from the village, huh?” Kiba said from behind. “I don’t understand how they could live so close without causing trouble until now.”
Shikamaru scanned the area with his eyes, capturing every detail.
“They didn’t until now,” Shikamaru replied distractedly. “Something changed, and I don’t think it was because they suddenly wanted to be more noticeable.”
There was a logic to how everything was arranged: the smaller huts seemed to be meant for sleeping, while the larger ones might have been common areas. But what stood out wasn’t the layout—it was the symbols.
In almost every corner, various types of spiders carved into wood or painted on rudimentary walls seemed to watch them with unmoving eyes. Some were small, while others were so large they spanned entire planks. The details were crude but evoked a ritualistic purpose, as if these figures were more than mere decorations.
“They definitely had a fixation with spiders,” Shikamaru murmured, approaching a central post carved with a massive spider that seemed to envelop it. The spiral pattern of its legs gave a strange sensation, as if it trapped more than just its prey.
Shikamaru walked toward one of the huts, glancing at the remnants left behind: bowls, woven baskets, and a dagger with a worn handle. Everything had a primitive, functional air—nothing to suggest a group with sophisticated resources.
“This feels more like a tribe than any kind of ninja clan,” Kiba commented, crouching to pick up a necklace made of small stones and animal teeth.
Shino, who had remained silent, crouched near one of the larger huts, inspecting something on the ground: a series of marks that looked like they had been made by insects. Shikamaru watched him from where he stood, recognizing the deliberate movements of his teammate.
“Spiders…” Shino said, standing up and walking toward a tattered banner hanging inside the main structure. The design was similar, but here, the spider was surrounded by chained human figures, as if they were part of the web. Shino touched the fabric carefully, as if doing so could unearth the secrets it held.
“They seem to have an obsession,” Shikamaru commented, crossing his arms while following the bug-handler’s gaze. “Do they mean anything specific, or were they just overly enthusiastic entomologists?”
“It’s not just a fixation. It’s a symbol of the Kimushimaru clan,” Shino finally replied, his tone neutral but loaded with meaning.
“Kimushimaru?” Kiba interjected, frowning as he held up the necklace with fangs he’d found near a hut and showed it to Akamaru.
Shino turned to them, his gaze fixed on the banner as if it were a missing piece of a puzzle.
“A long time ago, before the founding of Konoha, there was a single clan that mastered insect-based techniques. It was called Aburamushi.”
“Aburamushi? Never heard of it,” Kiba said, clearly confused.
“That’s because it’s not a name the Aburame use now,” Shino continued, his voice grave and controlled. He gestured toward the banner. “The Aburamushi clan split into two. The Aburame—my ancestors—chose to join Konoha and abandon certain practices. But others didn’t agree. The Kimushimaru chose to wander as nomads, preserving more extreme traditions involving insects, including experiments to genetically merge humans with them.”
Shikamaru looked at the banner again, noticing details he hadn’t considered before: the web patterns around the human figures and how the spider’s legs seemed to connect to their bodies. It was more than a design—it was a statement.
“That would explain the attack on Yufuin and Neji,” Shikamaru said thoughtfully. He walked to one of the huts and picked up an empty jar with remnants of a dark liquid. Holding it up to the light, he observed the particles suspended in the small amount that remained. “If this clan has been working on genetic manipulation for generations, injecting that substance into the villagers makes sense. They’re testing something.”
“And failing,” Shino added, pointing to the marks on the ground. “These tracks show a hasty retreat. If they had succeeded, they wouldn’t have abandoned the settlement so quickly.”
Kiba frowned, looking at the decorations and remnants scattered around. “Why didn’t they teach us about this in the academy? Seems like every clan has some hidden history that could kill us.”
“Because every clan has its secrets,” Shikamaru replied with a shrug. “You should know that by now, dog boy.”
Shikamaru began planning his next move, noticing how the shadows seemed to shift with the shapes of the drawings, as if the spiders were alive.
“Now that we know what we’re dealing with, we don’t have time to waste,” declared the Nara. “We’re returning to Konoha immediately. Shino, as the future heir of the Aburame, I need you to talk to your clan leaders and gather all the information you can about the Kimushimaru. Kiba, make sure to report this to the ANBU. Take this banner with you and gather several Inuzuka to track this clan. I’ll speak to Lady Hokage and bring her this toxin sample.”
They both nodded, and the team set off back to the village.
But as he said it, he couldn't help but feel a weight on his chest. Clan secrets always came with consequences, and now Neji was caught up in one that seemed more twisted than any of them could have imagined.
----------------------------
The room was shrouded in dim light, with the sound of medical machines filling the air. Neji lay in silence, staring at the ceiling as he tried, in vain, to ignore the strange situation he found himself in. It was as if every cell in his body was awake, vibrating with an unfamiliar energy.
Two endless hours had passed in the operating room of the Shinobi Hospital. Lady Tsunade and Shizune moved around him with surgical precision, but Neji was only conscious enough to register fragments of the process. He had been given just enough anesthesia to prevent his screams from interrupting the containment of the toxin eating away at him. The Hokage had explained that she couldn’t completely remove the substance but could slow its progression and reduce the pain. To Neji, those words felt like hollow comfort; all he wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.
During the first hour, the torture had been unbearable. Writhing like a wounded animal, they had strapped him to the bed with belts—a humiliation that seemed to add to a never-ending list. Only when Tsunade used a jutsu involving water bubbles infused with a special serum, inserting them with chakra into Neji’s abdomen, did the burning begin to subside—at least enough for him to breathe. But that relief was fleeting.
Only another hour had passed since then. Since the war and shinobi missions had dwindled, along with injuries, the hospital was empty enough for the Hyuga to be assigned a private luxury room. What a privilege, he thought bitterly. If the pain returned, at least he could drown in his own screams without anyone hearing.
As if his thoughts had summoned the storm, the burning sensation flared up again, this time radiating from a place Neji preferred not to name—not even in his mind. There, in his... manhood. The place he had protected more fiercely than any other. The sensation made him tremble with pure shame. Of course, Tsunade had noticed during the procedure, but he had refused to mention it. Admitting it out loud would have been the ultimate humiliation.
Tears of fury and helplessness began to stream down his cheeks. Why him? Why precisely there? He had spent his entire life repressing any impulse he deemed impure, molding himself to the puritanical and rigid norms of his clan. Not just out of duty, but by his own choice. He had avoided touching himself beyond what was strictly necessary while showering, endured countless nights in meditation to suppress the natural urges of youth, even avoided his own reflection when he was naked. And now, everything seemed to revolve around that part of himself he had always ignored.
It was a cruel joke of fate, designed to break him down to the lowest level, to mock his efforts to remain untainted and untouchable.
“Damn it...” he whispered, barely recognizing the tremor in his own voice, biting his lips nearly to the point of drawing blood in a futile attempt to hold back both the tears and the scream threatening to escape his throat.
That part of him was hard, standing shamelessly and creating a bulge under his hospital gown as if mocking him and his utter lack of control. Alright, alright, he thought, as if repeating it could stop the tide of chaos inside him. It wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t so bad, after all. It was natural for men for that to happen every now and then, right? He could handle it.
With an effort that felt monumental, he tried meditating, focusing his mind on his chakra as he did in battle. He visualized the flow of energy coursing through his fingers, like when he performed the 64 Palms. But his chakra, his precious and ever-reliable life force, didn’t respond. Nothing. Just a void that made him feel as though he’d been stripped of a limb. A cold wave of fear traveled down his spine.
No. He wasn’t going to give in. He couldn’t. Forcing himself to stay calm, he reasoned that it must be a side effect of the toxin or Lady Tsunade’s jutsu. Something temporary. Something manageable. Yes, that was it. By tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.
Even if he couldn’t access his life energy, he could still regulate his breathing the conventional way. He placed a trembling hand over his chest, counting silently. One, two, three. He took a deep breath. One, two, three. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that almost managed to stabilize, though his thoughts still spun like an uncontrollable whirlwind. He was close—so close to ignoring the burning heat radiating from his body and focusing on resting.
But then his hand, in an unconscious gesture, slid beneath the fabric of his gown, trailing from his collarbones to his chest. That was when it brushed against another area, burning as if it were on fire. The contact with his nipples, red and swollen, was a catalyst.
The panic attack hit him like an explosion.
His breathing became erratic—short, desperate gasps that failed to fill his lungs. The heat intensified, a suffocating sensation mingling with visceral anguish. His entire body trembled, muscles contracting uncontrollably, as cold sweat drenched his skin. It felt as if he were being invaded by something unseen, something incomprehensible, stripping his mind of all rationality.
“No… no…” he whispered, his voice cracked with fear and shame. Each word was a desperate plea, an attempt to deny what was happening, to reclaim the control that had always defined his existence. His hands gripped the edges of the bed, knuckles white from the force.
Tears began to fall freely, unbidden, trailing down his face with an ease that made him feel even more defenseless. His chest heaved in a futile attempt to steady his breathing, and his vision darkened at the edges. It was too much. Everything was too much.
He touched his nipples again in a hurried assessment: they felt hard, erect, and despite the dim light in the room, he could see their reddish hue, contrasting starkly against his pale skin. They were swollen, almost plump.
As his fingers grazed them, Neji couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping his lips, followed by a deep flush spreading across his face in utter embarrassment. He silently thanked all the gods that he was alone.
“I don’t… want this…” he whispered in a broken voice, his mind sinking further into an abyss of panic and despair. Why? Why him? Why now? He had spent his entire life training, perfecting himself, being the model of obedience and discipline, and now it was all unraveling in the face of a sensation he didn’t understand, couldn’t stop.
Finally, his body gave in, a violent spasm coursing through him before leaving him motionless. His breathing was still ragged, but he no longer struggled; he simply floated in a sea of confusion, terror, and shame.
He felt so lost, defeated. What was he supposed to do? His body was so sensitive that even the touch of the soft hospital gown or the sheets beneath him sparked uncomfortable, pleasurable sensations—a need he had never felt before… touch himself.
Maybe that was it. Maybe if he ended it, all this heat, all this discomfort, would finally go away. But the problem was that Neji had never done it before. He had always considered it disgusting and immoral to play with his body in such a way. He didn't know how to make himself finish.
Still biting his lip, he awkwardly touched his member over the fabric. A loud gasp took over his voice and he quickly brought a hand to his mouth to silence himself. Okay, being so sensitive had one advantage: this wouldn't take too long. He lay down on the bed, hugging the pillow as if it gave him some kind of comfort, parted his legs a little and pulled off the robe. There was that thing, which Neji swore used to be bigger but he hadn't looked at it long enough to check either. And it was wet, with a clear, slimy liquid around it that was beginning to stain both the robe and the bed. Neji felt nothing but disgust when he had to hold it in his hand, first holding it from the middle and then figuring that it would be better from the base. He had it all in his palm, so he got into action, moving his hand up and down.
At first he did it too clumsily, thinking that his lack of experience would hurt him, but he quickly found a way, increasing the pace to frenetic thrusts where he didn't even realize that he had started to move his hips.
His mind was in utter chaos, a battlefield where guilt and desire clashed with heartbreaking intensity. He knew that what he was doing was wrong—sinful even—an unworthy act. But his body had a will of its own, sweating and sending electric jolts that made him crave more and more. Every fiber of his being vibrated with an almost unbearable intensity, and no matter how loudly his mind screamed at him to stop, the relief he felt was overwhelming. It had been so long since he had experienced something like this—a release that left him both utterly empty and yet filled with an insidious longing.
And yet, it was so, so wrong. A knot of disgust formed in his stomach, slowly rising to his throat, as though he might vomit. He hated himself with a burning fury—hated his weakness, hated the way his body betrayed him, reducing him to something so primitive, so vile, like an animal succumbing to its basest impulses. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.
The moans and screams that wanted to escape from his mouth Neji had silenced by biting the pillow hard. He was close, just a little more… But he could do better, so he brought his free hand to his breasts, pinching them as his back curved in pleasure. Almost there…
The sound of the door opening interrupted his climax. A healer entered, carrying a tray of medicines.
"Young Hyuga," he said in a soft voice, placing the tray on the table next to the door. "The Hokage has sent me to check on you. How are you feeling?"
Neji froze completely as the healer's eyes looked at him and widened in understanding of what was happening. He knew exactly what the man was seeing: a thin young man, pale to the point of transparency, sweaty, a mess on the bed with his long hair disheveled in all directions, one hand pulling at his left nipple and his legs spread, suggestive, inviting to be taken and offering himself like a slut. Trying to satisfy himself by touching his small penis, but knowing that it wasn't enough.
Wait a minute, where did all that come from?
He hadn't managed to reach orgasm, but in all his ways his mind felt heavy, foggy. As if he were being trapped by a genjutsu that anesthetized him and put him in a reality where nothing beyond his pleasure mattered. He was outside his body, as if his real self, the authentic Neji, had managed to escape because he couldn't bear the horror and pain of seeing himself defiled in this way.
Anyway, what did it matter, that frigid bitch was missing out.
Neji didn't take his eyes off the healer. He was an older man, what was he, 40 or 50 years old? He had a few gray hairs peeking out from his brown hair, as if to remind everyone that he was no longer in the mood to play at being young. But hey, he looked pretty fit for his age. Burly as a bear and with a height that easily surpassed him by a good 20 centimeters, he expected another 20 centimeters down there as well. Plus, he had a face that, although it wasn't anything special, had its charm. In other words, a guy who wouldn't stand out in a crowd, but if you meet him twice, you remember him.
Neji smiled, letting the tip of his tongue peek out from between his teeth, with a provocative look that made the healer very, very nervous.
“I-I-I-I’m sorry!” the man said. He made a gesture as if he wanted to leave, turn around and slam the door behind him, fleeing down the hallway. But he didn’t, remaining stuck in that same position that had a privileged view of Neji’s naked body.
“Do you like what you see?” the Hyuga asked. His own voice sounded strange, purring. “How about this? Do you like it too, doctor?”
The younger man changed position, turning around, leaning on his elbows and exposing his rear to the man, like a kitten in heat. The hospital gown fell delicately over his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination, and his penis hung between his thin thighs, still oozing that clear, obscene liquid.
He heard the man swallow, a sound as low as it was tense, but he didn't move yet.
For the love of the gods, was he just going to stay there all day? If the bastard didn't act soon, Neji was going to lose interest. With a theatrical sigh and a hint of ill-concealed weariness, the Hyuga got out of bed and walked towards the healer with a subtle, flirtatious swagger. When he was in front of him, he smiled at him with a perfectly rehearsed innocence, all the while gently tugging at the man's white robe, like a cat playing with a ball of thread.
The doctor blinked, clearly stunned, but he didn't back down. For a moment he seemed to be considering his next move, until finally he removed the garment with a slow, almost ritualistic gesture, never taking his eyes off Neji. The Hyuga licked his lips, preparing to take the next step, when suddenly he felt the man's firm hands on his face, holding him with a mix of urgency and determination. Before he could process it, the healer's lips were on his.
Wait, wait a minute, this is not…
The air seemed to stop at that moment. They both breathed in unison, a shared gasp as if the entire world had blurred into a thick mist. It was as if the genjutsu that clouded and entangled Neji's thoughts had come to life, expanding and enveloping them both in a palpable atmosphere, charged with something unknown, but irresistible.
It was then that the man completely changed his attitude.
That was my first…Can’t allow this…
He continued to eat Neji's mouth, as if there was nothing else he wanted to do in the world, until Neji was about to lose his breath. The doctor caressed his neck, while with his other hand he grabbed the Hyuga's wrist and brought it to his crotch. He seemed to be in a hurry, as he frantically moved Neji's already sticky hand over the fabric, until that didn't seem to be enough and he changed his actions, moving his own hand up Neji's thigh, lifting his robe. Neji reacted by breaking the kiss and separating his legs, giving him free access to do whatever he wanted to do.
The doctor caressed his butt, his fingers feeling the area he was probably dying to try.
"Take off your clothes, let me see you," the man whispered in his ear in a deep voice. Neji felt as if his legs were jelly.
No… I don’t wanna…
Obediently, Neji slid the only garment he was wearing off his shoulders, revealing his delicious white skin, without a trace of stain or disgrace, until the robe fell to the floor and his breasts, still erect, dominated the scene. The areolas were shiny due to the sweat of their wearer, which made them look juicy and appetizing. The doctor brought his mouth to them and began to play with them, moistening them with his tongue and caressing them, then sucking them until he finally made Neji's entire body shudder by giving them a small blow. At no time had the Hyuga stopped his moans.
“You're quite outrageous. Make it worth it.”
The man leaned over the younger man, forcing him to lie down on the bed, while the moisture between Neji's legs only increased, totally aroused. The doctor lifted one of the boy's legs and placed it on his shoulder, having his virgin hole at his disposal.
“Your temperature is still high. Let me adjust this for you.”
From his pocket the man pulled out a thermometer, only slightly thicker than a normal pen. Neji's cavity was already quite wet from the unknown fluid, so the object slipped into his body with ease.
“Ah!” he cried out at the intrusion. No matter how wet it was, it was still a foreign object in his tight ass that had never been used by anyone else. “Wait, slower, slower…”
His pleas were silenced by another slimy kiss, as the doctor twisted the thing inside Neji, stretching his anus. They stayed that way for a couple of minutes until the man began to slide one of his digits inside, holding it there along with the instrument. It hurt like hell, but that pain sent spasms of electricity through Nej’s entire body.
No, stop. Stop. This is wrong. Horribly wrong.
When the second finger came, Neji arched his back. The doctor moved both fingers as if he were stimulating a woman's genitals and the humiliation of that thought almost made the Hyuga cum. The thermometer was forgotten. There was a third finger, which along with the arousal of his body made his anal cavity make a sucking noise that sounded very, very obscene. He couldn't believe that his own body, pure until recently, was capable of making such lewd sounds. He closed his eyes, a little embarrassed.
The whole room was filled with nothing but the Hyuga's high-pitched moans and the watery sound of his ass being repeatedly invaded. Maybe that was what made the man get so excited like an animal in heat, because filled with blind rage, he suddenly grabbed Neji's hair very hard and forced him to bend even more, making him watch as he fucked him, as he ruined his entrance with his hand. Then Neji noticed that it was no longer just three fingers, but five.
“You like it, whore?! You like watching me destroy your pussy?! You offered it to me, slut, look what I do with it!”
The pace was unbearable. Neji could only bite his lips to keep from screaming, but it was useless. A pathetic, pitiful voice came out of his mouth, only answering “yes” to all the healer’s humiliating words. Inside, he felt like his brain was melting, consumed by an overload of stimuli that he didn’t know how to handle. It was an overwhelming current that dragged him along, leaving him lost in an ocean of shame and pleasure.
Surely, Neji thought in a lucid corner of his mind, his face must look like that of a stupid bitch right now, with his eyes rolled back and his mouth half open.
This is my first time.
The phrase resonated from somewhere deep inside him, like an echo he couldn’t ignore. It was enough to bring his world, momentarily drowned in chaos, to a standstill. A chilly sensation ran down his spine, snuffing out any remaining glimmer of warmth. It was true. His first kiss, his first sexual encounter, he had given everything to…a complete stranger.
The tears came hot and stinging, a reminder of how human he still was, despite trying for years to be something more: perfect, unbreakable, blameless. How could he have…? How was he able to…? What the hell was he thinking?
The orgasm violently broke through any line of thought he was having. Every corner of his body tensed, a whitish liquid began to gush from his penis, staining his face and the doctor's. When the delicious sensation ran through every part of him like a discharge and then disappeared, he felt his body weak and trembling.
He had cum without touching his dick, just from the stimulation of his ass. His cheeks turned red just thinking about it, but the doctor licked his face, taking some of his seed away.
"Let's get started," he said.
"What?" Neji was surprised.
He made him lie down again, positioning himself between his legs, which by this point already felt sore and numb. The man joined tongue with tongue again, in a disgusting and impure parody of a kiss that drove Neji crazy. The doctor took his cock out of his pants and rubbed the glans against the younger's ruined ass, dragging a large amount of flow, between the unknown liquid that the Hyuga's body emanated and his semen. Neji moved trying to realize the penetration, but a spank on his butt made him jump.
“If you want something, just ask please”
Of course, he should have imagined it. How could he waste the opportunity to make an arrogant Hyuga beg.
“P-please” he said in a barely audible whisper.
“Please what?”
Neji sighed.
“Please deflower me. Fuck me. “
The penetration came in one fell swoop and deep, eliciting multiple gasps from an already battered Neji, who was barely aware of anything beyond how hard he was being fucked. The doctor wet his fingers, beginning to stimulate the young man's nipples with his thumbs again.
"No..." the Hyuga complained in a weak voice.
A spank on his bottom made his wince.
“Shut your mouth, bitch. I'll do whatever I want.”
The man continued pumping hard, as if he were stabbing inside his body and had both hands on Neji’s nipples. The young man was getting closer and closer to a second orgasm, as his breathing began to become more restless and his body contracted, squeezing deliciously around the doctor's penis, who caught his breasts between his fingers like clamps and squeezed, making Neji arch his back violently and let out a shrill cry of pleasure. At that moment the doctor could not contain himself either and ejaculated inside Neji, losing his erection as he left that sweet body that had just stopped being a virgin and gave him another kiss on the lips.
Neji's mind was a shapeless mess, a seething mass of tangled thoughts and emotions, like a trembling jelly on the verge of spilling over. And that was for the best. As long as that confusion kept him away from clarity, he wouldn’t have to face what he had just done. He wouldn’t have to accept that now he was broken, tainted, profaned.
His chest rose and fell with a desperation that made him tremble. He had never felt anything so intense, anything that made him feel so good. But alongside that pleasure was a dark shadow devouring him from within: guilt, disgust, shame. He felt dirty, as if every fiber of his being was coated with an invisible grime he couldn’t scrub away.
Minutes passed, or perhaps hours, as he remained there, motionless, trying to grasp a fragment of control that slipped through his fingers like sand. In the end, it was the sound of movement that pulled him out of his trance.
The healer had stood up and was beginning to dress, hurriedly gathering clothes from the floor. There was something frantic in his movements, as if he wanted to erase all traces of what had just happened.
“Forgive me…” the man murmured, not daring to meet his gaze, before turning toward the door.
But before he could take another step, Neji stopped him.
It was a reflex, desperate and senseless. His hand closed around the healer’s arm, his fingers trembling and weak, barely able to hold on. His breathing was still erratic, his eyes half-closed from exhaustion and confusion.
“Wait…” he murmured, his voice broken, almost unrecognizable, a pitch higher than usual.
The healer froze, surprised, and the air in the room grew heavy, thick with unbearable tension. Neji felt a painful throbbing in his body, radiating from his lower back down to his thighs.
He didn’t know why. He didn’t know what he was searching for. But something deep within him—something primal, terrifying—drove him to repeat the same mistakes over and over, as if punishment were the only path to redemption.
The healer looked at him, his expression a mix of bewilderment and something else, something Neji didn’t want to decipher. But he didn’t let go of his arm, even as every passing second dragged him deeper into his own madness.
“Please…” he whispered, and in those two words was concentrated all the weight of his desperation, his need to extinguish the guilt within him—even if it meant drowning in more guilt. “Fuck me again, please”.
The healer hesitated, unmoving. The world seemed to have shrunk to the small space between them, to the labored breaths and the void.
Neji didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel. He just wanted to lose himself, once more, in something that made him forget, if only for an instant, the irreversibility of his actions.
Notes:
And that's how I ruined my favorite character's life by having him fucked by a complete stranger who will never show up again. I promise there's a reason why Neji has a deep aversion to sex, it'll be part of the plot later on. Kiba is an idiot and will continue to be an idiot, but he's kind of right in everything he says (but I'm still going to make him fuck Neji because it's my story and I do what I want). Shino is hopelessly in love with the gorgeous pearl-eyed Hyuga while the latter is being stuffed like a turkey (LOL they cuckolded him, sorry Shino. I love you). Shikamaru still isn't in love with Neji, although he appreciates him very much as a friend, but in the next chapter there will be a breakthrough for both of them. I hope Shika is coming off as smart as I'm trying to make him out to be. Oh, yes, here, the Otsutsuki are not ninjas or aliens or anything like that, but they are treated as mythological deities, hence the mortuary ritual that the villagers were doing and Neji saying the phrase "Gods!" so much. See you in the next chapter and Happy New Year.
Chapter 3: The promise
Summary:
Chapter focused on Shikamaru. The shadow ninja gives the news to Tsunade while, thanks to Lee, he discovers something about Neji that will change his entire perception of the mission. However, when he wants to confront him, Neji seems reluctant to listen or talk. What is happening to him?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was midnight when Shikamaru, Kiba, and Shino crossed the gates of the Hidden Leaf Village. Despite the late hour, the nighttime hustle showed no signs of quieting down. It was Saturday, and the village seemed determined to stay awake. Neon signs flickered in pink and blue hues, bathing the streets in a pulsating light that mingled with the laughter and shouts of drunken villagers stumbling between bars and alleys. The contrast with Yufuin was striking. The three ninjas agreed to carry out their task, each heading in a different direction.
Shikamaru turned toward the Hokage Tower, his footsteps echoing on the rooftops. From a distance, the tower's windows remained lit. He sighed, feeling the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. It was a relief to think that soon he could report to Tsunade and, with any luck, sneak into bed for a few hours before anything else arose in this chaotic day.
As he climbed the tower stairs, he couldn’t help but ponder Tsunade’s work pace. Lately, the Hokage seemed to spend every night buried in piles of scrolls and meetings. The light he saw from outside was a testament to her constant dedication.
But why?
They were supposed to be in an era of peace. They had defeated Akatsuki, Madara, and survived the Fourth Great Ninja War. In theory, those days of endless planning and sleepless nights should have been behind them. So, what could have Tsunade so occupied?
Crossing the threshold of her office, Shikamaru found Tsunade engrossed in a conversation with Shizune. The voices stopped instantly when they saw him enter. He caught a fragment before the silence: Hiashi Hyuga's name.
Were they talking about Neji?
He swallowed, feeling a slight tension in his chest.
Tsunade looked up, and the sternness on her face softened into a slight smile, mirrored by Shizune.
“Well, if it isn’t the famous Knot Weaver,” the Hokage greeted him with a playful tone.
Shikamaru immediately rolled his eyes. That nickname, born from the exaggerations during the Fourth Great Ninja War, still followed him like a curse. Foreign shinobi had coined it after witnessing his tactics: using his Shadow Possession Jutsu to create intricate webs that trapped his enemies and crafting elaborate strategies likened to a spider weaving an immense web for its prey. Despite the recognition it implied, he deeply loathed it, just like the other moniker, Shadow Strategist of the Leaf. At least with the latter, he wasn’t compared to a disgusting spider.
Spiders.
The memory of the Kimushimaru camp rushed back. The images of the arachnid symbols intertwined with his irritation at the nickname, further tensing his shoulders. However, focusing on Tsunade, he noticed something that brought a hint of calm: her light tone and the lack of gravity in her words.
If the Hokage was in a joking mood, at least it meant there were no immediate bad news.
“Are you done with the jokes, or would you like to waste more of my time?” he retorted with his usual sarcasm, though with a faint trace of relief he tried to conceal.
“Alright, alright. I can’t believe you can’t take a joke,” said the Hokage, still smiling but with a hint of curiosity. “What do you have for me?”
He swallowed hard and stepped forward deliberately, placing the scroll with the written report on her desk. His voice came out tenser than he had intended.
“The mission was more complicated than we thought.”
Tsunade raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
“The villagers of Yufuin lied about the mission’s rank. They claimed it was minor vandalism, but in reality, they were terrified. A group of nomadic ninjas attacked the village and... murdered part of the male population. All of them died after being injected with a substance we believe is similar to the one that affected Neji.”
The room seemed to grow colder, and Tsunade put the scroll aside. She crossed her arms, leaning slightly toward him.
“Do you have proof of this substance?”
Shikamaru nodded, pulling something from his pocket. He had placed the remnants of the toxin in a sealed test tube.
“We recovered a sample from the makeshift camp where the attackers had settled. It’s deteriorated, but it might still be useful.”
The Hokage narrowed her eyes, considering his words.
“And the group? What do you know about them?”
“Shino identified them as the Kimushimaru clan,” he quickly replied, trying to maintain his composure. “They’re a nomadic branch of the Aburame clan. According to him, they refused to join Konoha before the village’s founding. They wanted to continue their peculiar practices: experiments with human and insectoid DNA, as depraved as Orochimaru’s.”
The woman’s expression tightened. Her fingers drummed against her forearm—a sign she was deep in thought.
“Kimushimaru...” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I’ve read that name in old records, but there wasn’t much information.”
Shikamaru ran a hand through his hair, his usual gesture when trying to connect dots that didn’t quite fit.
“That’s what we don’t know. I sent Shino to gather more information from his clan. If anyone can find something, it’s him. I also sent Kiba to track the group’s movements.”
Tsunade nodded in approval before returning her attention to the map spread across her desk.
“Curious... I recently sent Kakashi and Yamato on an ANBU-level mission in this same region,” she said, pointing to a vast area of the Land of Fire. “We’ve received reports of dry corpses, as if all their blood had been drained, and individuals with monstrous appearances—half insect.”
Shikamaru felt a chill run down his spine. Half insect... The term felt too literal to be a coincidence.
“Do you think it could be related to the Kimushimaru clan?” he asked, though the answer already seemed evident.
“It’s likely,” she replied, pensive. “But if they’ve lived apart all this time, why act now? What are they after?”
The question hung in the air, and Shikamaru had no answer. Instinctively, he felt the urge to reach for his cigarette case, a bad habit he indulged in when he was worried. His thoughts drifted to Neji, to the image of his comrade trapped by the same toxin that now seemed to be at the center of everything. He wanted to ask about him, but something held him back—perhaps the weight of the moment.
Tsunade interrupted his thoughts.
“Keep track of Kiba and Shino’s movements. I want regular updates. If this is as serious as it seems, it might just be the beginning of something worse.”
“Understood,” he said firmly, though the knot in his stomach remained.
As he was about to turn to leave, he stopped. Taking a deep breath to maintain his composure, he turned back to her.
“Lady Hokage...” His tone was slower, more serious. “How is Neji?”
Tsunade raised her gaze, a mix of understanding and weariness reflected in her eyes. She took a moment before responding, as if carefully choosing her words.
"He's stable. His condition is critical, but he won't die."
The relief Shikamaru felt was immediate but fleeting. There was something in the way Tsunade looked at him—a gravity in her tone that made him tense up again.
"What exactly does that mean?" he asked, frowning.
The Hokage sighed, intertwining her fingers in front of her.
"The toxin he was injected with is causing both chemical and physical changes in his body from within. It's something completely unknown to us, but if we don't find a way to counteract it soon, those changes could..." She paused, as if gauging Shikamaru's reaction before continuing. "They could transform his body into that of a woman."
Shikamaru blinked, struggling to process what he had just heard.
"What...?" was all he could manage at first. Then he shook his head, forcing himself to gather his thoughts. "How is that even possible?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Tsunade replied, leaning slightly toward him. Her tone remained professional, though not devoid of empathy. "The toxin is designed to alter the biological structure of whoever it infects, but we don't know to what end. The sample you brought will be sent to the lab immediately. We need to understand why someone would develop something like this."
Shikamaru's mind raced, trying to connect dots that made no sense. Why would a nomadic clan create a toxin with such a bizarre effect? Was it some form of punishment? An experiment? For what purpose?
Despite the confusion, he forced himself to nod.
"Understood. Thank you for taking care of him, Lady Tsunade."
She looked at him, slightly surprised by the genuine gratitude in his tone. Shikamaru rarely expressed any sort of kindness so directly, but she made no comment on it.
With a small bow of respect, he turned and left the office. As he descended the tower stairs, his mind remained trapped by what he had just learned. Transforming someone's body... what possible purpose could lie behind such a thing?
The exhaustion still weighed on his shoulders, but now there was a more urgent matter pushing him forward. He changed direction, heading straight for the hospital. He needed to see Neji. Even if he couldn't help much, he felt he had to be there—at least for a moment.
The hospital was quiet, reflecting the peace that had reigned in the village for months, with no emergencies or waves of severe injuries disrupting its routine. Shikamaru walked through the doors unchallenged; his position and reputation afforded him the freedom to move without question.
The waiting room was eerily silent, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Shikamaru walked with his hands in his pockets, his expression one of weariness. It had been a long day, and visiting Neji at the hospital was the last task on his list, but also the most important.
As he turned a corner, the first thing he noticed was Rock Lee, slumped over one of the uncomfortable couches in the waiting room, sound asleep. Lee’s mouth was slightly open, and he snored softly—something entirely uncharacteristic of his usual boundless energy. His posture was so disciplined it seemed he could spring to attention at the slightest command. It must have been exhausting.
Shikamaru sighed and approached him.
"Hey, Lee," he called, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. "Wake up. If you're this tired, you should go home."
Lee jolted awake, blinking frantically as if he'd just emerged from a nightmare.
"How did Neji's operation go?!"
Shikamaru stepped back, startled.
"Operation? What operation?" he asked, both concerned and confused. "The Hokage didn’t mention anything about that when I spoke to her."
Rock Lee paused, scratching his head awkwardly as he tried to gather his thoughts.
"Ah... no, wait. It wasn’t an operation," he said, stretching and rubbing his eyes. "The Hokage said they were just stabilizing him, so he’d feel better. So he wouldn’t be in so much pain anymore."
Shikamaru exhaled heavily, though the fear gripping him didn’t entirely subside.
"Man, you almost gave me a heart attack. Things aren’t exactly calm enough for jokes like that."
Lee lowered his gaze, his voice trembling as he responded.
"It was horrible, Shikamaru. I’ve never seen Neji like that in all the time I’ve known him."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, a sign that he was listening, though his expression remained neutral.
"Like what?"
"Screaming! So loud!" Lee exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. "He was screaming and crying... he looked desperate. It was like he couldn’t bear the pain—or whatever was happening to him." His voice broke. "Shizune and Lady Tsunade had to tie him to the bed to keep him from hurting himself. I’ve never seen him like that, and honestly, I don’t know if I can take seeing it again."
Shikamaru’s gaze darkened. He tried to maintain his composure, but the lump in his throat tightened. Neji screaming and crying—again and again, an image he wouldn’t be able to forget.
"You saw all that?"
"Yes. At first, they let me stay with him, but after a while… Shizune asked me to leave. I think she couldn’t stand seeing me crying too. She asked me to leave because... because I couldn’t do anything to calm him. I felt so useless, so... guilty. I stayed out here waiting, and... well, you see how I ended up." Lee gestured toward the couch with a sad smile.
Shikamaru raised a hand, trying to calm him.
"Hey, take it easy. It wasn’t your fault."
"But it was!" Lee insisted, hitting his forehead with his hand—a gesture he often made when deeply distressed. "If I’d been more alert, if I’d gone with him, if I’d done something..."
Shikamaru shook his head, his expression now more serious.
"It wasn’t your fault, Lee. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. If anything, it was mine."
Lee looked at him, surprised, his eyes still glistening.
"Yours?"
The Nara sighed, diverting his gaze.
"Yes, my fault. I should have been more alert. But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that he’s okay."
Lee nodded slowly, though he still bit his lip, clearly fighting back more tears. He sank heavily onto the waiting room sofa.
"It’s just..." he began, his voice trembling. He bent forward, running his hands through his hair in desperation. "Neji is much more fragile than everyone thinks, Shikamaru. He always pretends to be strong, but..."
The comment caught Shikamaru off guard. He watched silently, letting Lee’s words sink in. There was something in his voice, in the way he spoke about Neji, that made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t just guilt that he sensed; there was a hint of admiration and deep concern. He glanced sideways at Lee, trying to understand what he was implying.
Before he could ask anything, Lee straightened up as if a thought had suddenly crossed his mind.
"You have to help him, Shikamaru!" Lee exclaimed, his eyes shining with a mix of urgency and hope. "Please, you have to find a solution."
Shikamaru frowned, but his voice came out softer than he expected.
"I will help him, of course. It’s my responsibility. But why me? Don’t you think the entire team, even the Hokage, is doing everything they can?"
"No, you don’t understand," Lee insisted, gesturing with his hands as if trying to give weight to his words. "You have to help him. It’s something… special. Neji asked me not to say anything, but I think you need to know."
Shikamaru felt something tighten in his stomach.
"Know what?" he asked, leaning slightly forward, sensing that something important was about to be revealed.
Lee swallowed hard and looked at him with a mixture of fear and determination.
"Neji is…" Lee took a deep breath, as if speaking was physically draining. "Neji is in love with you, Shikamaru."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The words hung in the air like a precisely thrown kunai, aimed straight at his mind. Shikamaru felt the silence around him grow so thick he could almost touch it. He shook his head once, twice, as if trying to shake off the words now buzzing in his mind like annoying mosquitoes.
It was as if someone had just solved a complex problem with an answer that made no sense. He remained frozen, as if moving might make reality wobble even more.
Okay, Shikamaru, think.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, an automatic gesture he did whenever the world became more complicated than it should.
"What?"
"Neji is in love with you," Lee repeated, as if he hadn’t just said something capable of causing an emotional earthquake.
If this is a joke, it’s not funny.
Shikamaru opened his mouth to say something but found no words. He was a strategic genius, but this... This wasn’t in any equation he’d ever considered. Never, in all the scenarios he could calculate, had he imagined something like this.
He frowned. It couldn’t be. Neji was... Neji. A serious, almost distant guy, but incredibly capable, intelligent, like him. Even in the most tense moments, Neji wasn’t annoying, unlike most others. In fact, Shikamaru respected him more than many others. And, to be honest, though it was hard to admit, sometimes he even found him... attractive. That intense gaze, the serenity that seemed to surround him. And that rare smile, so beautiful and genuine, that seemed to light up his face.
He remained motionless, staring at the floor as if trying to solve a particularly complex riddle, feeling his brain stuck on this single thought, so absurd that for a second he almost laughed. But Lee’s serious expression kept him from finding it amusing.
No matter how much he analyzed it, he couldn’t make it all fit.
Wait. If this is true, why would Lee tell me now? Why at this exact moment? What does he expect me to do with this information? Write a poem? Make a confession in return? For heaven’s sake… let’s be realistic, I’m not exactly the type of person who inspires… romance.
His expression must have been giving away how lost he felt because Lee tilted his head, looking at him as if afraid he’d said too much.
"Why are you telling me this?" Shikamaru finally asked, his voice a little quieter than usual.
"I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought you needed to know. Neji told me a while ago, but he also said he didn’t want you to see him as weak. However, now… now I think you need to know because maybe you’re the only one who can really help him."
Shikamaru took a deep breath, his mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. Finally, he straightened up and looked Lee in the eye.
"I didn’t see this coming, Lee. Not at all."
Lee raised his gaze, his eyes wider than usual, as if he’d been waiting for Shikamaru to say something much wiser and less confused.
"Did you really not notice?"
"How was I supposed to notice?" Shikamaru replied, somewhat defensive. Then he paused for a moment, as if trying to analyze his own memories. "We barely talk! And only when we’re on missions together, which happens every… what? A thousand years?"
Lee shrugged, with a smile that seemed to say, “I knew you’d say that.”
Shikamaru, for his part, fell silent for a moment, as if opening a mental file labeled Neji Memories. But the file felt empty—or at least, that’s how it seemed.
"Were there signs?" Shikamaru thought, his mind replaying memories of missions and conversations in slow motion. Nothing. Nothing that could have been considered “a clue.” It was like looking for an elephant hidden in an empty room.
Inside his mind, a miniature Shikamaru was frantically shuffling through filing cabinets, looking lost as ever.
"Seriously, Lee. I didn’t see anything." Then, after a moment of reflection, he added, "Well, maybe those times Neji gave me strange looks... No! No, that doesn’t count."
Lee chuckled slightly, as if he were the only one on the planet who understood what was happening. Meanwhile, Shikamaru rubbed his forehead, visibly annoyed with himself. This makes no sense. What the hell have I been doing all this time?
"But are you sure about this?" he asked again, not looking at Lee. "I mean, aren’t you exaggerating?"
Lee shook his head, his face completely serious.
"I’m not exaggerating, Shikamaru. I know because he told me himself. His exact words were, ‘I’m in love with Shikamaru.’"
The Nara exhaled a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight begin to build on his shoulders.
"This is... complicated."
"Why?" Lee asked, leaning slightly toward him as if trying to read his thoughts. "Is it because Neji’s a man?"
Yes, exactly because of that, thought the shadow ninja. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t hesitate to dive right in. I mean, have you seen his ass?
"No," Shikamaru replied quickly, frowning. "I don’t care about that. It’s just that I never would’ve imagined something like this. That Neji liked men."
Then he let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"And to top it off, he likes me."
Lee tilted his head, as if he didn’t understand his confusion.
"Why not? You’re smart, reliable... and attractive in a, well, peculiar way."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
"Peculiar?"
Lee nodded energetically, as if that were a compliment.
"Yes. You’re not like everyone else. You don’t need to do much to stand out, and I think that’s what Neji likes about you."
Shikamaru scoffed, crossing his arms.
"I never thought my apathy could be a plus. Look, it’s not that I don’t consider myself attractive," he finally said, without a hint of arrogance, just as if he were stating a fact. "But… what does Neji like about me? I’ve never felt like we get along particularly well."
Lee tilted his head, pondering.
"Maybe that’s precisely it. You’re someone who doesn’t try to impress him or please him. You’re… authentic. Neji respects that a lot in a person."
Shikamaru scoffed again, though he couldn’t deny that something about Lee’s words gave him an odd feeling.
"Authentic, huh? Never thought that word would be used to describe me."
Lee smiled faintly, but his expression quickly turned serious again.
"Look, Shikamaru, I’ve already said too much. I shouldn’t have told you this, but… I had to."
Shikamaru lifted his gaze, meeting Lee’s earnest eyes.
"Why?"
"Because I know you can help him." Lee clenched his fists, his tone full of emotion. "Neji always tries so hard to be strong, to keep up that façade… But now he needs someone who can see him for who he really is and help him. And I think that person is you."
Shikamaru felt a knot in his stomach. It was too much responsibility, but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the weight in Lee’s voice or the image of Neji in such a critical state. Not again.
"What exactly do you want me to do?" he asked.
Lee looked him directly in the eyes, and his answer was simple but forceful.
"Promise me you’ll help him."
Shikamaru hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.
"Alright. I promise."
Lee let out a sigh of relief and smiled, though tears still shimmered in his eyes.
"Thank you, Shikamaru. Neji trusts you more than I ever could’ve imagined."
And apparently more than I could imagine too, Shikamaru thought, rolling his eyes, though a small smile played on his lips.
"Yeah, yeah. But don’t tell anyone. This is already troublesome enough without half of Konoha finding out."
As Lee walked away, Shikamaru was left alone in the hallway, the echoes of the conversation still resonating in his mind. Lee’s confession had left him utterly bewildered, even feeling somewhat dizzy, like when he stayed up late analyzing reports, strategizing, and deciding the best course of action. It felt like that but multiplied by a thousand—his brain had worked harder in the last 15 minutes than it had all month. He just wanted to sleep.
He went to the reception desk, asking the nurse on duty about Neji Hyuga’s condition. When she told him he was stable and resting in his room, he found himself smiling with relief and headed home to rest. He didn’t feel ready to face the Hyuga after what he now knew.
The next morning, Shikamaru arrived at the hospital shortly after noon. On the way, he passed by the Yamanaka flower shop, something he rarely did unless absolutely necessary. Ino wasn’t there, but his eyes lingered on a corner filled with sunflowers. There was something about those flowers that made him stop, something that stirred a memory in his mind.
He remembered that Neji had always liked sunflowers. He didn’t know why and had never bothered to ask before, but now it seemed like an important detail. Without overthinking it, he bought a bouquet. It felt like the right thing to do, though the act made him feel a little ridiculous.
It’s not because of yesterday’s confession, he told himself, pressing his lips into a tight line as he tried to ignore the echo of Lee’s words. It was simply something Neji would appreciate, and Shikamaru had the strange urge to do something right for once, without ulterior motives.
He walked through the hospital grounds, still chewing on the last pieces of the puzzle his mind refused to complete, when he saw Kiba approaching. He stopped, expecting the usual animated greeting or the typical joke about him being awake at noon, but this time, the dog ninja seemed more serious.
"How’s Neji?" Kiba asked, his voice laden with a concern Shikamaru hadn’t anticipated.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, giving Kiba an inquisitive look.
"Didn’t you go with the rest of the Inuzuka clan to track down the Kimushimaru clan?" he asked.
Kiba waved dismissively.
"My mom insisted she could handle everything and told me to stay back and rest…" he said, and Shikamaru didn’t need further explanation. Tsume, Kiba’s mother, knew perfectly well how massacres and bloodshed affected her son, likely deciding that the young Inuzuka should avoid confronting more traumatic scenes. It wasn’t something Kiba could escape—not after everything he had endured during the Fourth War. Shikamaru didn’t voice any of this aloud.
They entered the hospital, and as they walked through the silent corridors, the calm atmosphere enveloped them.
"So, what are you doing here?" Shikamaru asked, not without a hint of sarcasm. "Didn’t you say yesterday that you hated Neji?"
Kiba snorted, staring straight ahead with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah, I hate him," he admitted with a shrug. "But that doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to him or for him to die. After seeing those corpses in Yufuin Village, I can’t just sit around, you know? I just want to make sure Neji’s okay. Even if he’s like an annoying cat to me, I don’t want him stuck in a bed, unable to do anything."
Shikamaru nodded, understanding his point. The scars of war weren’t only on the bodies of the fallen but also in those who survived, left bedridden in hospitals forever.
"Well, well… are those flowers for him?" Kiba said, smirking as he pointed to the bouquet of sunflowers Shikamaru seemed barely aware of holding. "Didn’t know you two had something so special. Is he your boyfriend or what?"
Shikamaru let out a weary sigh, tensing slightly, though he wasn’t about to give Kiba an ounce of material to tease him with.
"Don’t be an idiot," he quickly replied, shooting him a look meant to be indifferent but barely hiding his irritation.
Kiba narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly forward.
"Oh, I see…" he said, drawing out the words with a tone bordering on theatrical. "He’s not your boyfriend… yet."
"What part of ‘don’t be an idiot’ didn’t you understand?" Shikamaru retorted, fixing him with a look of utter exhaustion, as if seriously considering whether faking his own death would be a better alternative to continuing this conversation.
Kiba burst out laughing, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Relax, man. I was just kidding. Although…" he added, sniffing the air like a hound on the hunt, "now that I think about it, that bouquet is an interesting choice. Do you really think he’ll like them?"
"He’ll like them," Shikamaru replied, drier than the desert. "And if not, at least he can use them to smack you on the head, which would probably brighten his day too."
Kiba laughed so loudly that a nurse gave him a disapproving look from down the hallway.
"Wow, Shikamaru, didn’t know you had such a romantic side! Maybe I should tell Ino to watch over her flower shop better. You’re a prime customer."
Suddenly, Kiba’s expression grew more serious, and he wrinkled his nose as if something in the air bothered him.
"Ugh, there’s that damn smell again! Do you smell it?" he said, gesturing with his hand as if trying to wave away something invisible. "The one from Neji yesterday. That sweet, sickly scent… it’s nauseating, like my sister’s perfume in buckets."
Shikamaru frowned and paused for a moment, thoughtful. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual the night before, but he found it curious that Kiba brought it up again.
"I don’t smell anything," he replied flatly, shrugging. "You’re probably exaggerating. It’s likely the stress getting to you."
Kiba gave him an incredulous look but didn’t press further. The matter of smells and the acute noses of the Inuzuka clan had never been one of Shikamaru’s strong points.
The hospital corridor was quiet as they stopped outside Neji’s room. Shikamaru took a deep breath, trying to dispel the knot in his chest. With a gentle push, he opened the door.
The atmosphere shifted as soon as Shikamaru and Kiba entered the room. The lighthearted teasing and sunlight from moments ago were replaced by a heavy, oppressive stillness. Neji lay in bed, turned away from them, curled up under the blankets. His hair, usually immaculate, fell messily over the pillow—something Shikamaru immediately noticed.
"I don’t want to see anyone," Neji said, his voice low and barely a whisper.
Shikamaru froze, a sharp pang of concern cutting through him. Something was very wrong, and it put him on high alert.
Kiba, however, didn’t seem to pick up on the shift in tone. He stepped forward, snatching the bouquet from Shikamaru’s hands and grinning mischievously.
"What’s wrong, princess? Too tired to greet your admirers?"
The comment hung in the air like a bomb about to go off. Shikamaru felt the tension in the room spike instantly. He shot Kiba a glare, and before Neji could respond—if he even had the energy to—he spoke firmly:
"Shut up, Kiba."
The tone brooked no argument. Kiba, surprised, raised his hands in surrender, but the unease had already settled in.
Shikamaru stepped closer to the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words.
"Neji…" he began cautiously. "We just wanted to see how you’re doing."
The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Shikamaru noticed Neji tense slightly under the blankets, but there was no response.
The concern in Shikamaru’s chest grew stronger. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Shikamaru glanced at Kiba, who was still standing awkwardly by the door, a hint of guilt flickering in his expression. Shikamaru made a quick decision.
"Kiba, can you give us a moment?" he asked, his tone softer but resolute.
Kiba raised an eyebrow, visibly confused.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I won’t take long.”
Kiba hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to argue, but finally sighed and set the bouquet of sunflowers on a nearby chair.
Shikamaru turned toward the bed, his eyes fixed on Neji’s figure, still motionless beneath the sheets. He stepped forward carefully, as though any sudden movement might shatter something fragile.
“Neji...” he called softly, his voice low and full of intent. “I know you don’t want to talk, but I’m here.”
For a moment, there was no response. Then, a barely audible sound escaped from Neji, like a broken sigh. Shikamaru felt something tighten inside him.
“Leave me alone,” Neji muttered, but his voice betrayed his attempt at harshness. It trembled, and Shikamaru recognized it immediately—he’d been crying.
Ignoring the request, Shikamaru sat in the chair beside the bed, leaning slightly toward him.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong,” he insisted calmly, though his heart pounded. “If you’re in pain, I can ask Shizune to…”
“It’s not...” Neji paused, his voice breaking with emotion. “It’s not that. Not anymore.”
Shikamaru frowned, processing the response. His first assumption had been physical discomfort caused by the toxins.
“Then what is it?” he asked gently.
Neji didn’t respond immediately. His shoulders rose and fell in an almost imperceptible motion, as if he were fighting an internal battle.
He shifted slightly, just enough for Shikamaru to see a fraction of his face. His eyes were red, and there was a fragility in his expression that made him look completely different from the proud Hyuga everyone knew.
“Why... do you care?” Neji asked, his voice filled with skepticism and something else—something Shikamaru couldn’t quite identify.
Shikamaru held his gaze, his own heart beating faster than he cared to admit.
“Because I don’t want to see you like this,” he replied honestly, the words coming more easily than he expected.
Neji said nothing, but his eyes softened slightly. Shikamaru remained silent, giving him the space he needed, while a strange feeling settled in his chest.
The silence between them stretched, but Shikamaru had no intention of breaking it. Neji wasn’t someone who shared his thoughts easily, and pushing him would only make him retreat further. However, the instability in the Hyuga’s eyes and the tremor in his voice were like a muted cry that Shikamaru couldn’t ignore.
Suddenly, a memory crossed his mind: the conversation he’d had with Tsunade. She mentioned that the toxin poisoning Neji didn’t just weaken the body—it caused changes, biological ones. Her exact words echoed in his memory.
Shikamaru observed Neji with renewed focus. Was that what was troubling him? If his body was changing—turning into that of a woman—it could be devastating for anyone. He knew that, even before he admitted it during the Chunin Exams, identity was something deeply rooted in Neji, and any alteration must feel like a direct blow to his core.
“Is it what Tsunade said?” Shikamaru ventured cautiously.
Neji immediately tensed. He didn’t fully turn to Shikamaru, but his shoulders tightened as if he’d been struck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied coldly, though his voice wavered just enough to betray him.
Shikamaru leaned in a little closer, trying to maintain the eye contact Neji was avoiding.
“I’m serious, Neji. You can trust me. I’m not going to judge you, no matter what it is.”
The Hyuga let out a bitter, almost inaudible laugh.
“You have no idea what you’re saying, Shikamaru. If you knew what I…” He trailed off suddenly.
Shikamaru frowned, resisting the urge to press further. There was more to this, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Neji wasn’t just dealing with the toxin’s effects; that much was clear. There was a darkness in his words, something that seemed to consume him from within.
But what?
Neji took a deep breath, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Shikamaru watched every small detail, every microgesture: the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided his gaze, and the slight tremble in his fingers. It wasn’t just pride holding him back—it couldn’t be. There was something deeper, darker, blocking his words, and Shikamaru knew it with the instinctive certainty of someone who’d spent years analyzing people to predict their moves.
He wants to talk, Shikamaru thought, but he doesn’t know how.
He couldn’t stand seeing him like this, so broken and unlike the image he always projected. But he also knew this wasn’t a moment to act with emotional clumsiness. Neji wasn’t someone who responded well to pity. If he wanted to help, if he wanted to earn his trust, he’d have to be careful. Calculated.
Shikamaru took a deep breath and let it out slowly, loud enough for Neji to hear. Not overly dramatic, but just audible enough to convey patience mixed with a touch of exasperation. He wanted Neji to know he was there to stay but that he was also human, tired but resolute.
“Listen, Neji,” he finally said, his tone casual, almost indifferent, as if commenting on the weather. “I have no idea what you’re going through. I’m not going to pretend to understand or ask questions you don’t want to answer.”
He extended a hand toward the bed, placing it close enough for Neji to notice but without touching him. It was a calculated gesture, balancing closeness and respect. He wanted Neji to feel in control, to decide whether or not to accept the contact.
“But I’m not going to let you go through this alone,” he continued, his words careful, placed like pieces on a board. “Not out of obligation, and not because someone asked me to. It’s because I want to.”
Neji remained silent, but Shikamaru caught the subtle tremor in his shoulders, the fleeting blink that let a tear fall before he could stop it. There it is, Shikamaru thought. A breaking point.
"Take your time, Neji," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Days, weeks if you need. But when you're ready... I'll be here."
Shikamaru withdrew his hand with the same gentleness with which he had placed it, giving Neji space. Deep down, he knew the seed was planted. He didn’t need an immediate confession; he just needed Neji to start believing in him. This is a long game, he thought. And I've always been good at playing with time.
The Hyuga turned his face slightly, just enough to glance at Shikamaru from the corner of his eye. His eyes were shining, but he didn’t let the tears fall. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t reject him either, and for now, that was enough.
Neji made a slight movement, trying to turn away from Shikamaru again, as if that could create the distance he so desperately needed. However, the moment Neji tried to turn fully, a sudden, sharp pain shot through his body. It felt like a stabbing sensation in his lower back, stopping him instantly. A grimace of pain crossed his face, and his fingers, which had been barely tense on the sheets before, now clenched so tightly that their tips turned white.
Shikamaru immediately realized something was wrong.
He observed the scene with calculated speed. The anxiety he had seen in Neji's eyes... it wasn’t just physical pain. There was something more to that reaction.
Don’t let him slip away, he thought. Not now that he’s taken a step. Not now that he’s close.
"Neji, are you okay?" Shikamaru asked, his tone shifting, shedding its calmness to convey something beyond concern—something urgent. Neji’s gesture, however, was that of someone who had been trying to hide the uncontrollable for far too long.
But he didn’t answer. Tears began to pool in his eyes, unstoppable, and with them came a fierce anger, not directed at Shikamaru, but at himself.
He bit his lip hard, trying to calm the storm within him, but it was useless. The mix of physical and emotional pain was too much to bear.
"Get out!" he suddenly shouted, his voice raspy and broken, a sound he hadn’t expected to come from himself. The scream filled the room.
Shikamaru took a step back, more out of surprise than fear. It wasn’t the scream that had caught him off guard. What had left him momentarily stunned was the intensity of the pain in Neji’s voice. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t hatred. There was something else in it, something almost pleading, as if Neji were begging him to leave because he couldn’t stand being seen like this.
"Get lost!" Neji insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. His hands trembled as they clung to the sheets, his breathing growing increasingly labored, as if he were fighting with every fiber of his being not to completely collapse.
Shikamaru stood there, motionless for a moment, caught between what his instincts told him and what the situation required. He wanted to stay, wanted to keep trying to get Neji to open up, to trust him. But something inside him also understood that, in that moment, the only thing Neji wanted was solitude.
Just a moment of respite, he thought. Just a moment where he doesn’t have to face the storm inside.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shikamaru nodded softly, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t force anything.
"Alright," he said, his voice warm and low but with a calm firmness. He rose slowly from the chair, and before leaving, he placed the bouquet of sunflowers on the table beside the bed, close enough for Neji to see if he wanted to. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was something.
"No matter how much you want me to leave... you know where to find me." The words were simple, but they carried a subtle, almost imperceptible promise.
Shikamaru took a few steps toward the door, feeling a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. As he glanced one last time at Neji, he noticed that the Hyuga had turned his face, hiding his pain once more, while tears continued to silently stream down. He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t. Shikamaru knew Neji needed time, and all he could do for now was give him that space.
When he finally left, the door closing softly behind him, Shikamaru let the fresh air wash over him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he could do. Something he didn’t yet know how, but would figure out sooner or later.
Neji wouldn’t leave him behind. He wouldn’t let it happen.
Notes:
Another sexless episode, sorry :( but from here on everything was set up correctly to advance the story. Neji is depressed for his actions in the previous chapter. The Kimushimaru are planning creepy things with their experiments. Shino hasn't had much of a role but she will in the next chapter as well as the rest of the boys, who will be very important because of Neji's Harem. If you're wondering who will fuck the Hyuga in the next chapter, it will be Kiba lol And I hope the scene between Lee and Shikamaru was funny enough, I tried hard on it. See you in the next chapter.
Chapter 4: The instinct
Summary:
After discussing the progress of the investigation about the Kimushimaru Clan, Shikamaru and Shino finally confront each other. Meanwhile, Kiba decides to investigate the origin of Neji's strange scent and ends up in an unexpected situation where he is forced to bring out his most primitive instincts.
Notes:
Extremely long chapter, almost 12,000 words in 25 pages, but I had to publish it like this or have to cut the laboratory scenes or KibaNeji's sex scene and I didn't want to do any, so I hope you enjoy reading it and don't find it heavy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 4: The instinct
Shino Aburame wasn’t the type of child who enjoyed the bustling noise of parks or the loud company of other children. At six years old, he was already an observer, someone who preferred quiet corners where he could watch the world from a distance. That day, like many others, he had gone to Konoha’s park—not because he wanted to, but because his mentor insisted he needed to socialize more with other children.
He didn’t understand. His insects were more than enough company.
Sitting under a tree, Shino observed the movement in the park with a calmness almost inhuman for a child his age. The children ran, shouted, and played while he simply listened to the constant buzzing of his insect companions within him. It was a sound that comforted him, a reminder that he was never truly alone.
Then his attention drifted to a more distant figure. A boy, just a little older than him, sat under another tree holding a piece of sweet bread in his hands. Even from afar, Shino noticed something unusual about him: his rigid posture, his tense gaze, as if he were expecting someone to scold him at any moment. Something about the boy intrigued him, though he couldn’t understand why.
“I knew I shouldn’t have taken it…” Shino heard the boy murmur to himself, his voice barely audible, as if afraid someone might hear and reprimand him.
Then he saw the bees.
The familiar hum of the creatures filled the air as the swarm approached the boy. At first, Shino only watched. It didn’t seem like the other boy was in danger; bees weren’t aggressive unless they felt threatened. But something in the boy’s expression gave him pause. He was tense, yes, but there wasn’t fear in his eyes—not the kind Shino was used to seeing in people when confronted with insects. There was something else. Something… sad.
“Ah! No, please!” the boy exclaimed, his face tensing as he noticed them. “Little bugs… I don’t want to hurt you. But please, go away. Don’t harm me.”
The boy’s voice reached Shino again, soft but clear enough for him to hear. The tone was strange, a mix of plea and resignation. He didn’t want to harm the bees? Really? Shino frowned behind his glasses. Most children would have screamed or tried to swat at the insects. But this boy didn’t. It puzzled him more than he was willing to admit.
Slowly, Shino stood up and walked toward him. He didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, but something compelled him to approach. Perhaps it was curiosity, or maybe the strange resemblance he saw between the boy and himself: two solitary figures in a park full of noise.
“If you let go of the bread, they’ll leave.”
The boy quickly looked up, startled. His pearly, almost translucent eyes met Shino’s with a mix of surprise and distrust. Shino noticed the slight tremble in his hands, though it wasn’t entirely fear that made him shake. Not completely.
“It’s just…” The boy lowered his gaze to the bread he held, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s the first time I’ve had something like this. I took it from the clan kitchens… I stole it.”
Shino stood still, processing his words. There was something about the way he said it—a sincerity that seemed too raw for someone so small. He said nothing, waiting for the boy to continue.
“They always say this isn’t for me, that I shouldn’t eat it. But I wanted it so much!… Now I think it wasn’t my destiny to try it.”
The last sentence, spoken with such sadness and resignation, struck Shino in a way he didn’t understand. The word “destiny” echoed in his mind, accompanied by the image of that pale-eyed boy holding the bread as if it were the last piece of something he could never truly have. Shino, even at his young age, was familiar with coldness. He knew what it was to be rejected, avoided. But this rejection the boy described felt different. It was deeper, crueler.
“You don’t have to let go of the bread,” Shino finally said, his voice as calm as ever. He raised a hand, letting a small group of his insects emerge from his sleeve. “I can make the bees go away.”
The boy looked at him, his pale eyes widening slightly with surprise. “How?”
“My insects can guide them away,” Shino explained, already focusing on the task. He watched as his companions dispersed, creating a path for the bees to follow. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before the swarm began to move away, their buzzing fading into the distance.
When it was over, Shino lowered his hand, ready to return to his spot under the tree. But before he could move, he felt an unexpected weight against him.
“Thank you!”
The boy had hugged him. It was an impulsive gesture, filled with a warmth Shino didn’t know how to handle. His body tensed instantly, his arms remaining rigid at his sides. He could feel the other boy’s quick heartbeat against his chest, the warmth of his small hands clinging to his back. He didn’t know what to do. No one hugged him. Ever.
When the boy pulled away, he looked at him with a radiant smile, as if that simple act had changed something inside him.
“Your insects are amazing!” he said, his tone full of admiration. “And so are you.”
Shino stared at him, unable to respond. Most people described his insects as “disgusting,” “creepy,” something to be avoided. But this boy… this boy had used the word “amazing.” And not just that. He had said that Shino, Shino Aburame, was amazing too.
That was the first time someone made him feel seen.
Years later, whenever Shino recalled that moment, his mind always returned to that phrase. To that smile. It had been a simple encounter, a fleeting instant in time. Yet, somehow, that Hyuga boy had left a mark on him that never faded. And every time he saw Neji, even as he maintained his calm and reserved exterior, Shino couldn’t stop his heart from beating just a little faster.
Because, in the end, Neji Hyuga had been the first to see beyond the insects. He had been the first to truly see Shino.
-----------------
The air inside "The Hive" carried a particular weight, a controlled humidity mixed with the faint aroma of aged wood and fertile soil. This space was more than a laboratory; it was a sanctuary, an ecosystem his father had built ten years ago when his room in the main house became insufficient to contain everything he had collected. Three dome-like structures, joined by hexagonal panels, stood at the edge of the village, like a living extension of the surrounding forest. Despite Shino's efforts to correct them, Naruto and the others insisted on calling it "The Hive." Technically, it was incorrect—if they were referring to the hexagonal cells, the proper term was "honeycomb." But, as with many things, explaining the difference seemed pointless.
Inside, the three domes served distinct purposes. The first was a scientific laboratory, with long tables covered in microscopes, test tubes, and precision tools. Even Kiba had a designated space for his own peculiar Inuzuka clan experiments. The second was a living museum, filled with terrariums, breeding chambers, and display cases housing rare insect and plant species. The third, more personal, served as a bedroom, with a narrow bed and a desk cluttered with scrolls and ancient books. To Shino, these three parts formed a whole, reflecting not just his interest in entomology but his way of seeing the world: interconnected, structured, yet also alive and organic.
He had spent the entire night awake—uncommon but not particularly bothersome. His father, Shibi, along with some other clan members, had agreed to speak with him about the Kimushimaru, but the information they provided echoed what he already knew. Frustrated, Shino found a small comfort in his mentor, Chitose Aburame. She was different: efficient, direct, someone who didn’t waste unnecessary words. It was she who suggested he search the sacred scrolls in the clan’s temple.
"The information is there," Chitose had said with her characteristic unshakable confidence. Shino inclined his head in gratitude. He appreciated Chitose, though he didn’t always know how to express it. She was one of the few people who understood his nature without requiring lengthy explanations.
At three in the morning, he had found the scrolls and books she referred to. They were old, their pages as fragile as moth wings but brimming with knowledge. Shino sat at his desk, letting the artificial light bathe the texts in a cold, clinical glow.
As his hands carefully turned the pages, his insects joined in the work. Some buzzed around the edges of the sheets, while others perched on lines of text, reading alongside him. It was a slow but effective process. And as he progressed, he began to uncover information that was, at the very least, questionable.
By eight in the morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the hexagonal panels, a knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Shino blinked, adjusting his glasses as he stood. Opening the door, he found Ino Yamanaka holding a small case. Her expression, as always, hovered between enthusiasm and impatience.
"Lady Hokage sent me here," Ino said, lifting the case slightly to emphasize her presence. "Apparently, you brought in a sample of a substance that was already analyzed, but it contains some unusual plants and flowers. You know, my area of expertise."
Shino nodded, stepping aside to let her in. It wasn’t the first time Ino had visited his laboratory, and, as always, her reaction was the same: a whirlwind of contradictory comments he listened to silently.
First came the complaints about the insects in the display frames, her tone ironic and exaggerated:
"Shino, these preserved bugs are just as creepy as they were last time. Do you really need to keep them in frames? Ugh, it’s like walking into a haunted house."
Then, almost without pause, her mood shifted to unbridled enthusiasm as her eyes landed on the terrariums filled with exotic flowers and plants:
"Oh, but these orchids are stunning! And those violets? The flowers in your terrariums are so gorgeous," she added, leaning closer to one of the glass displays. Her tone changed immediately, as if the compliment could balance out the earlier critique. "How do you keep them looking so perfect?"
"By maintaining the necessary conditions," Shino replied simply, returning to his desk.
After her initial comments, he didn’t respond again. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he couldn’t understand why Ino showed such disproportionate fascination for flowers while ignoring everything else. Sometimes, he simply didn’t understand people. But he had to admit, Ino had a unique talent for filling the air with words, and in her case, it made conversation easy. Even if he spoke little, she always knew how to fill the gaps.
As Ino leaned over a table to inspect the contents of the case and moved her swivel chair as if she instinctively knew where each instrument was, Shino returned to his thoughts. Watching her prepare the compounds for analysis, he couldn’t help but think of Neji.
It was nearly lunchtime when he heard the knocks at his laboratory door. The sound echoed through the hexagonal domes, momentarily disturbing the constant hum of his insects, which seemed to respond to the noise like a faint warning. Adjusting his glasses, Shino went to open the door, leaving behind the scattered scrolls on his desk, where he had spent hours analyzing the complex relationships between the Aburame clan and the enigmatic Kimushimaru clan.
When he opened the door a second time, he found a group that made it impossible to ignore the tension now hanging in the air: Shikamaru Nara, Kiba Inuzuka, and Naruto Uzumaki.
Naruto had a habit of filling any space with his nonsensical chatter, something Shino found exhausting, while Kiba, with Akamaru by his side, had a presence that, even if he stayed quietly in a corner, still took up a lot of mental space. Shikamaru, on the other hand, maintained his usual neutral expression, as if nothing that had happened affected him and there was no urgency to resolve anything. Shino couldn’t help but feel a latent resentment about it.
“You’re late,” he said curtly, stepping aside to let them in. He didn’t bother to hide the coldness in his voice as he fixed his gaze on Shikamaru.
The Nara raised an eyebrow at the remark but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, it was Kiba who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Our fault. We had to stop by the hospital for a visit… to an irritable and annoying cat. He’s fine, in case you were wondering.”
“Wow, Shino! Every time I come here, I feel like I’ve stepped into the house of a giant bee. The Hive never ceases to amaze me!” Naruto commented.
“Honeycomb,” Shino corrected in an almost inaudible whisper, though he knew it would go ignored. It seemed it had been, but Kiba’s words did serve to ease the tension.
“It seems like you’ve discovered something useful. What is it?” Shikamaru asked seriously. The tension between them had been palpable since the previous day.
Shino stopped, turning slowly toward him. His gaze was as fixed and calculating as the movement of a predatory insect. Then, as if he hadn’t heard him, he turned to Kiba and Naruto.
“Very well,” he said, pointing to the scattered notes and scrolls. “I’ve uncovered some information about the Kimushimaru clan. You might not know this, Naruto, but they were a nomadic branch of the Aburame clan that split off due to their obsession with genetic experiments.”
“Oh yeah, Granny mentioned something about that.”
“Well, their main goal was to create hybrids between humans and insects, aiming to replicate the extreme resilience of certain species. Specifically, they focused on a rare insect species capable of surviving in adverse conditions, such as fire, radiation, and even Amaterasu, the black flames that never extinguish.”
“What? That sounds like something out of a horror story!” Naruto exclaimed, while Kiba frowned.
“They succeeded—partially,” Shino continued, ignoring the interruption. “But here’s what I discovered last night: the cost was high. Their female population was significantly reduced due to the side effects of their experiments. They were on the brink of extinction, and even then, procreating with regular females wasn’t an option for them. In their desperation to preserve their lineage, they began creating plant-based toxins to alter and control living organisms, both human and insect.”
“Well, that makes sense,” Ino said from a corner, where she had been working silently. She turned to the group, holding a test tube in one hand and a notebook in the other. “The toxin I analyzed has traces of a carnivorous plant that induces dizziness in its prey. Which is already rare, considering it’s been considered extinct for centuries. But there’s something more: it’s infused with chakra and mixed with an element I can’t identify. It seems to be venom from another flower, but I’ve never seen anything like it. And the sample was exposed to the elements for too long, so it’s altered.”
“That’s likely a specific combination created by the Kimushimaru,” Shikamaru said. “From what you’ve described, they fit a specific profile: a millennia-old clan of lunatics who resist any change that isn’t on their terms. They weren’t just trying to alter organisms; they wanted to control them completely. All of this aligns with an obsession to create something superior, something that could transcend human limitations.”
“That explains the effect it had on Neji!” Naruto suddenly exclaimed. “Granny Tsunade mentioned something about feminization, that Neji was turning… well, into a…”
“A what?” Ino asked.
Shikamaru grew serious, standing with his arms crossed in a corner of the room.
“Now that we’re officially the Kimushimaru investigation team, let’s keep this professional. Nothing leaves this room,” he said warningly. “Yes, it’s true. If the effects of the substance progress, Neji will end up transformed into a woman. That makes perfect sense with what Shino said about the Kimushimaru’s dwindling female population. It’s likely they created the toxin to reverse that and turn the members of their own clan into females. It also explains why all the victims have been male. But there’s still one mystery: none of the victims in Yufuin survived. Neji did.”
“Well… Neji is a shinobi. The men in Yufuin were all civilians. I think that might make a difference,” Naruto said.
“Sure, but why him? In Yufuin, they didn’t hesitate to attack any man. Why didn’t they use us for their repulsive experiments too? Why only one?”
“Are you saying they specifically targeted Neji? Why?” Kiba asked.
“Because he was alone. They had him at their mercy,” Shino said, his voice loaded with anger.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily it,” Shikamaru replied, sounding somewhat defensive. “Those guys posed no real threat to anyone. We defeated them too easily. I’d even say they were a distraction, considering how quickly they retreated afterward. If it weren’t for the poison, they wouldn’t have stood a chance against Neji. After Naruto, he’s the strongest among us.”
“Do you tell yourself that to keep your conscience clear?”
Everyone turned to look at Shino in astonishment—not for what he had said, but for how he had said it.
Shikamaru, who had been visibly tense since the beginning of the conversation, let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor.
“What exactly are you insinuating, Shino?” he asked, his tone icy.
“That it was your decision to send him alone to check the perimeter” Shino said bluntly, adjusting his glasses with a deliberate gesture “ And it was also your decision not to pursue the attackers. Now Neji is in this state”
“Wait, wait” interjected Kiba, raising his hands. “It wasn’t exactly like that. From the start, our roles are assigned for the mission, remember? I know the area and defend, you track, Neji scans for potential dangers with his Byakugan... Shikamaru couldn’t have foreseen what would happen.”
“That doesn’t change the fact” Shino retorted, keeping his gaze fixed on Shikamaru ”that those were reckless decisions.”
The lab, usually a haven of order, science, and calm, now felt like a tense space, charged with suppressed emotions. Naruto and Kiba stood off to the side, caught in an awkward silence, a rare occurrence for them. Kiba, who had arrived with his usual carefree energy, now fidgeted, pacing back and forth with Akamaru at his side, while Naruto kept his arms crossed, glancing between the two, as if waiting for someone to break the ice.
But the true tension lay between Shino and Shikamaru. The two stared at each other from opposite sides of the lab’s main table, each maintaining an outwardly calm demeanor, though cracks in their facades were gradually showing.
Shikamaru let out a long sigh and crossed his arms. He had expected that comment, but it didn’t make it any less irritating.
“Shino” said Shikamaru, his voice steady, though tinged with weariness “I understand what you’re saying, but wasting time blaming me won’t help anything. Besides, Kiba is right, I’m not a damn fortune teller.”
“You don’t need to be a fortune teller to plan better strategies” Shino replied, adjusting his glasses again with a deliberate motion “Strategies that don’t put someone like him at risk.”
“Someone like him?” Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, his tone bordering on ironic “What does that mean to you?”
“You know exactly what it means” Shino replied, leaning forward slightly, his words slow and controlled “Neji is too valuable, as a shinobi, as a member of the Hyuga clan’s branch house, and as a person. We don’t know what his clan will do to him once they find out about his condition, but I suppose that doesn’t matter to you.”
The room fell silent. Even Naruto, who had opened his mouth to interrupt, decided to shut it again. Kiba, for his part, pressed his lips together and glanced at Akamaru, uneasy.
Shikamaru let out a short laugh, his jaw tightening as he spoke.
“Doesn’t matter to me?” he said, his words laced with restrained fury “Is that what you think of me? That I care so little and that you want me to treat him like he’s weak, like he can’t handle himself? If anyone here has the skills to deal with something like this, it’s Neji. I don’t need to spell it out for you, because I know it better than anyone. But you...” he leaned forward slightly “You talk as if he can’t handle this, like he’s some kind of fragile porcelain that needs to be protected all the time. And that, Shino, isn’t respect. It’s underestimating him.”
Shino visibly tensed but didn’t back down. His voice came out lower, almost a whisper, but sharp as a blade.
“Maybe you’re the one who has the wrong view of him, Shikamaru. You see him as an unstoppable warrior, but you’re not there to pick up the pieces when he breaks. You don’t have to face what his family does to him or what his own mind tells him when he fails.”
“And you do? I saw him this morning. I saw him, and I couldn’t do anything to help. And now you’re here spouting all this crap as if it’s going to change anything.”
“Maybe you can’t do anything because you lose interest the moment you realize he’s someone you can’t control like your personal puppet” Shino said, his voice quieter but more cutting.
Shikamaru straightened, his gaze now fixed on Shino. There was a spark of something dangerous in his eyes, something he rarely showed.
Ino made a move as if she wanted to rush toward Shikamaru, but instead, she stayed rooted in place, a worried expression on her face.
The room’s lights began to dim, the shadows growing larger despite the illumination. A distant sound, like the buzzing of a thousand insects, began to fill the air.
“Are you trying to insinuate something?!” Shikamaru asked, his tone icy “Since this happened, all you’ve done is lash out every time someone mentions it. You talk as if you’re the only one who cares, but you don’t even know what you’re feeling. You’re just looking for someone to blame so you don’t have to face what’s really happening.”
Shino’s breathing quickened slightly, a detail so subtle it was barely noticeable. But it was enough for Shikamaru to pick up on.
“I don’t care what you think you know” Shino responded, his voice still controlled, but with a sharp edge of anger he couldn’t completely hide “This isn’t about me. This is about what happened because of your decisions. It wouldn’t be the first time he ends up in critical condition under your command.”
“Stop this!” Kiba suddenly interrupted, raising his hands. He looked at Shino with a mix of concern and frustration “Listen, Shino, you’re my best friend, but this isn’t going anywhere. I... I don’t want to get involved in this. I’m out of here.”
Akamaru barked softly in agreement, and Kiba, after an awkward glance between the two of them, hurriedly left the lab. Naruto, however, stayed in place, though it was clear he wished to be anywhere else.
Shikamaru seized the moment to step closer to Shino.
"Do you know what?" he said with a calmness that was almost more dangerous than if he had yelled. "It's easy to point fingers when you don't have to make split-second decisions. But if you were in my place, would you have done anything differently? Or are you just upset because you don't know how to handle what you feel for him?"
"You have no idea what I feel. And you have no right to assume."
Shikamaru stared at him for a long moment, as if evaluating his next move. Finally, he let out a long, heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm not here to fight with you, Shino. We're here to fix this, to figure out what's happening and stop those psychopaths from hurting more innocent people. So, if you want to keep blaming me, fine. But we're not wasting any more time on this."
He turned to the others, his face a mask of seriousness and composure, as if the last few minutes hadn't happened.
"Lady Tsunade mentioned something concerning last night," he began. "Strange attacks have been happening in villages around the Land of Fire and neighboring regions. The bodies found... are mummified, as if someone drained all their blood and life energy."
He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing.
"The most unsettling part is that these attacks coincide with sightings of humanoid figures with insect-like features. Very similar to what we faced. Everything points to the Kimushimaru being involved. If they're experimenting with their toxin, it's logical they'll return to evaluate the results. And if they find out Neji is a successful case..."
Shikamaru didn’t finish the sentence, but the silence that followed spoke volumes.
"Drained of blood?" Naruto broke the silence, frowning. "Like... vampires or something?"
"It's a reasonable, if simplistic, comparison," Shino replied. "There are insect species that do something similar. Hemipterans, to be precise. Their mouthparts allow them to pierce tissues and suck blood, or vital fluids, from small mammals like rats and moles."
He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts before continuing. Ino shuddered.
"However, even a swarm of thousands of them couldn't fully drain a human so quickly. If the Kimushimaru have managed to replicate that mechanism and adapt it... then we're talking about a significant advancement in their experiments. Another success case, like Neji."
"I’ll speak to Kakashi as soon as he returns from his mission. In the meantime, we need all the information on the clan you can gather, and you, Ino, focus on obtaining a better sample—no matter how," Shikamaru announced.
Ino nodded, her gaze firm but reflective.
"A clean sample would be ideal but not indispensable. If Neji can describe in detail what he felt during the attack—the type of pain, its duration, any physical or sensory reactions—I can correlate those symptoms with the known properties of certain plant toxins. I could identify the plants involved much faster. Do you think I could talk to him? I could even... you know... use my jutsu to get more precise information."
Her companion shook his head.
"Not for now. He's too affected and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. But as soon as he’s ready, you’ll be the first to know."
Everyone nodded. Shikamaru and Naruto left, but Shino noticed the young strategist giving him a look that was hard to interpret before walking out the door. He didn’t like feeling like a pawn in the Shadow Strategist’s game, but he was still the mission leader, and things couldn’t be any other way.
The lab fell back into thick silence, interrupted only by the low hum of insects buzzing around Shino. He said nothing as he returned to his work with the ancient books.
Ino continued working on the other side of the room, but Shino could feel her gaze—light yet persistent, like a breeze that makes you turn your head even if you don’t want to.
Finally, she spoke, her tone soft, almost casual, as if she didn’t want to impose.
"Do you remember that time, years ago, when you were working on a mission to classify types of poisons, and I offered to help?"
Shino slightly lifted his head, without looking at her directly.
"Yes," he replied after a pause, his voice neutral.
"You were so methodical. Everything had to be in its place, every sample precisely labeled. And when I showed you a faster method, you didn’t even consider it because it didn’t fit your system."
Shino pressed his lips together. He didn’t understand where she was going with this, but Ino continued, maintaining that nonchalant tone.
"It wasn’t that you were wrong. Your way was effective, but you didn’t realize there were other ways to achieve the same result."
She paused, letting her words settle. Then, she lowered her voice slightly, making it more intimate.
"Shino, I understand that you want to take care of Neji. I really do. But the way you’re looking at it... don’t you think it might be a little too limited?"
He didn't respond, but the stiffness in his shoulders told Ino he was listening.
"Neji isn’t just what you see in him or what the Hyuga clan expects him to be. He’s more than that. And I’m sure he wouldn’t like being treated as if he’s weak and can’t handle things on his own."
Shino placed the scroll he was holding on the table, with a movement sharper than usual.
"I’m not limiting him," he finally said, his tone lower, as though speaking to himself as much as to her. "I just want... to protect him."
Ino stepped closer but kept some distance, respecting his space.
"I know. But sometimes, protecting someone also means trusting that they can face their own problems. It doesn’t mean abandoning them, Shino. It just means giving them the chance to prove they can handle it."
Her words were simple, but they carried a weight even Shino couldn’t ignore. He lowered his head slightly, looking at his gloved hands resting on the table.
"It’s complicated..." he murmured, almost inaudibly. But then, in a barely perceptible tone, he added, "I don’t want him to get hurt."
Ino smiled, sweet yet somber.
"Important things are always complicated, aren’t they?" Ino continued, her tone light but laden with empathy. "And when someone truly matters to us—in the same way you want to protect Neji—it makes us feel a little lost. It’s normal, Shino."
She waited a moment before adding, in a softer tone:
"And about Shikamaru... I know you’re upset with him. Maybe you even think he was reckless. But let me tell you something. Shikamaru would never do anything to deliberately endanger a friend. No matter how calculating he seems, or what you think you know about him."
Shino didn’t look up, but Ino noticed his hands tense slightly.
"Shikamaru isn’t perfect; I know that," she continued. "He can be stubborn, he can seem cold, but he feels. I promise you. Every decision he makes, he carries its weight. Even if he won’t admit it, what happened to Neji now and what happened years ago… it affects him more than he lets on."
Shino raised his head slightly, but still said nothing. Ino took another step closer.
"I know you and he don’t always get along, but... he’s not your enemy, Shino. Nor Neji’s."
He pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to snap back. Deep down, he knew she was right, but admitting it was something he wasn’t ready to do.
Ino sighed, as if reaching the limit of what she could say for now.
"Well, don’t worry. I’m here if you need someone to talk to. And I promise not to use my quick organization method this time."
Shino didn’t respond, but she caught the slight movement of his head, barely a nod. It was enough.
She returned to her table, leaving the silence to settle over the lab once more. And although Shino remained lost in thought, something about him seemed less tense, less adrift.
----------
The afternoon sun was at its peak, bathing the village in a warm, blinding light. The streets were relatively quiet, with few villagers in sight, busy with their chores, while Kiba walked silently with Akamaru by his side. The dog glanced at him sideways, as if sensing his companion was lost in thought. Kiba shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, kicking a small stone along the path.
"You know, Akamaru, I think I messed up this time, on the mission," he finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was lower than usual, almost as if he were talking to himself. "I kept pushing Shino to admit he can feel things for beings other than those disgusting bugs—hell, to act like a normal person for once—that I thought I was helping him, but maybe... maybe this is all going to blow up in his face."
Akamaru let out a soft bark, either in agreement or just to show he was listening.
"It’s just, you know how he is," Kiba continued, frowning. "Always so reserved, keeping everything to himself. He’s never been good at handling emotions. And now it seems like he’s taking it out on Shikamaru."
Akamaru gave another quiet bark, as if offering his opinion.
"Yeah, yeah, I know I always say what I think," he said with a sigh, "but maybe this time I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Now I think Shino’s acting crazy, even by his standards."
And taking it out on Shikamaru wasn’t a great idea, he thought. Not that he thought poorly of his friend—of course not—but he knew how relentless the Nara could be when he thought something was off. If Shikamaru suddenly started considering that Shino’s personal feelings might become a potential obstacle, well... Kiba didn’t know what would happen.
After all, the shadow ninja was a Tokubetsu Jōnin and, before that, an ANBU candidate. He’d been a key figure in the war, and from the neighboring countries to the hidden villages, his feats were well known. That nickname he hated so much—“The Knot Weaver”—wasn’t meant as mockery, far from it. It was because of the way he could take any situation and turn it into a vast web, with threads only he could see and manipulate to bring anyone down. Kiba wouldn’t lie: that skill was impressive, but it was also terrifying.
Shino, for his part, wasn’t much less terrifying in his own way.
Kiba snorted, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. He had no reason to be thinking those things about his friends.
Talking with his canine companion seemed to help a little, but not for long. Suddenly, that fragrance appeared again. Sweet, dense, as if the air itself was saturated with something intangible yet unsettling. It was like a soft but forceful blow that left him paralyzed for a second.
He stopped in his tracks, senses on high alert.
His body tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up immediately.
“There it is again…” Kiba muttered, glancing around with a frown.
The scent was a mix of flowers and sugar and something else… something indescribable that made his skin prickle and his breathing quicken. It invaded him in an almost uncomfortable way, as if it wanted to take over his thoughts. It was… appetizing, like prey he needed to hunt.
Akamaru growled in response, though he didn’t seem uneasy, just curious. That his canine partner didn’t detect the same thing as him only worried Kiba more.
“Stay here,” he said, crouching down to look Akamaru straight in the eyes. “I need to figure out what the hell this is. Don’t move, got it?”
Akamaru tilted his head but obeyed, calmly sitting in the middle of the street.
Kiba glanced up at the nearby building, recognizing the window to Neji’s room. Without wasting another moment, he leaped up and began climbing the wall. His hands easily found holds, and his feet made barely any noise as he moved. With every step closer, the scent grew stronger, more intense, to the point of making him dizzy.
“What the fuck is going on with you, Neji?” he murmured to himself as he finally reached the level of the window.
There was something about that fragrance he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t natural, of that he was certain. Even though Ino had claimed it was made of flowers, plants, and their toxins, Kiba didn’t believe her. It was deeper, almost sinister, and somehow, it stirred something within him he didn’t fully understand.
A strange desire, as if he were suddenly ravenous and willing to tear and rip for a piece of meat.
When he reached the window, he paused, hanging from the ledge with one hand while the other braced against the frame. From there, he could peek inside.
The room was dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the curtains. And at the center of it all was Neji. His figure appeared to be asleep, but the air around him felt almost… charged. The scent was stronger than ever here, and Kiba couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
He hung by the window, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, and once again, as had been happening for months, his body seemed to want to betray him.
“This isn’t right,” he murmured, looking away toward the sky for a moment as if seeking solace in the fresh air. “What the hell am I doing here…?”
He was about to climb down and tell his dog they were leaving when he noticed Neji stir. At first, it was a slow shift, but then he started to move restlessly, as if something were bothering him in his sleep. That froze Kiba in place.
Neji lay on the bed, covered by a thin sheet barely clinging to him. His hair, always perfect and neatly styled, was now a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat. Kiba frowned—it was unusual to see him like this, as if he were uneasy. And for a second, Kiba thought it wasn’t just unusual… it was damn unsettling. The beads of sweat on his forehead glistened, sliding down his temples and disappearing into the shadows of his sharp jawline.
The Hyuga was breathing fast, his slender chest rising and falling as if he were running in his dreams. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, as if consumed by fever. Even in his obvious discomfort, his face retained that characteristic perfection, but now he seemed human in a way that was rarely seen.
Kiba felt a knot in his stomach.
“Shit, does he have something serious…?” he whispered.
He wanted to leave, to climb down at once and find a nurse, but something held him back. It wasn’t just that sweet scent that kept invading his head like a genjutsu, making him dizzy to the point of losing focus. It was Neji. Damn, it was him. Something about how he looked left Kiba paralyzed, and he didn’t know if it was because of how vulnerable Neji seemed or because of something else he preferred not to name.
He swallowed hard, feeling a strange heat that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. His eyes drifted back to Neji. He was there, breathing softly, his hair disheveled, with those lips that… Kiba closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake the image from his head. But when he opened them, it was still there, and for some reason, it made him feel… strange.
“Damn… He looks so fuckin’ beautiful like this…” he muttered without thinking, and instantly felt like an idiot for saying it aloud.
His foggy mind betrayed him with absurd thoughts, like noticing how gorgeous that smug Hyuga bastard looked, his relaxed face framed by those long lashes that barely moved as his eyes darted beneath his eyelids.
Immediately, he blamed the Inuzuka coming-of-age hormones. If not for that damned hormonal cocktail, he wouldn’t be here having weird thoughts about Neji Hyuga— like imagining him doing a blowjob on Kiba, for example…
Oh, he’d admitted it…
But what the fucking shit had he just thought?!
He was too caught up in that strange trance to notice Neji moving again, this time abruptly, as if he’d woken from a nightmare.
“What are you doing here?” Neji’s voice was low, sharp, and filled with alarm. His eyes flew open, wide and startled, as they took in Kiba perched on the windowsill like a damn thief.
The dog ninja blinked, shaken by the other's voice, but the effect of the scent—or should he call it genjutsu?—still held him tight. Everything felt blurry, as though he were underwater. His logical mind told him he needed to explain himself, to get out of there, but his body refused to obey. He could only observe.
Neji was now sitting, his tangled hair falling over his shoulders, his chest rising and falling faster than before. His lips were pursed in a mix of irritation and confusion, and his eyes pierced through him like kunai. Yet, even annoyed and disheveled, Kiba could only think about how damn good he looked.
“Are you planning to answer?” Neji’s frown deepened as he pushed the sheets aside to rise from the bed.
Kiba tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, glued to the roof of his mouth. His entire body felt strangely relaxed, almost as if he were floating. And then he heard it. A voice in his head, soft yet insistent, like a whisper emanating from the scent, from the illusion that was consuming him. And he could do nothing—he didn’t want to resist.
The voice sounded just like Neji’s.
"It’s yours. It’s always been yours. Just touch it. He knows it, he wants it. Fuck him. Do it before it’s too late."
Kiba closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the heat spread from his chest to his neck and cheeks. Whether it was the Inuzuka puberty or Neji’s scent-based genjutsu, it didn’t matter—the reality was that an erection was beginning to form in his pants, the sensation almost painful in its suddenness.
He swallowed hard, his heart beating slowly but heavily in his ears. The numbness was so intense it almost kept him from thinking. He shook his head as if trying to dispel the damnable urge to… but the voice persisted.
"Look at him. So perfect, so fragile. Just your worship—that’s all. Give him what he needs. It’s your right. It’s what he’s earned for being so arrogant."
Completely unaware of what was happening in Kiba’s mind, Neji grew increasingly irritated.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me like an idiot, or are you done?!”
Kiba cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. But instead of his usual teasing attitude, he blurted out something that made the older boy freeze.
“You know, Neji, you’re as pretty as Hinata... maybe even more.”
Neji’s eyes widened as if Kiba had just announced he was replacing the Hokage.
“What?”
The dog ninja didn’t stop. Something in him was out of control, and the words just flowed.
“It’s just… you’ve got this thing, you know? That natural elegance. You’re like… a lily. Or a panther. Or a lily-panther, you get me?”
“No, I don’t get you,” Neji said in a dangerously low tone, though a faint blush began to creep across his cheeks again.
Kiba, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to the danger. He leaned closer, nearing the edge of the bed, as if the sweet scent were pushing him forward.
“I’m not just saying this. I mean it. You should smile more. I bet even the Akatsuki would surrender to you.”
Neji opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find words. His brain was too busy processing the horror of what was happening.
“Kiba,” he said finally, his voice forcibly calm, “if you don’t step back right now, I swear I will get out of this bed and make you regret every word.”
The younger ninja tried to compose himself, to force himself to step back, but every breath only made the sweet scent in the room more intense, as if it were seeping under his skin. He swallowed hard and looked at Neji again, who now seemed more tense than ever, like a cornered deer.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but stop it,” Neji said, his tone firm but slightly shaky. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to hate me?”
That made Kiba blink, and for a brief moment, his mind regained some clarity.
“It’s not like I hate you…” he began, but Neji interrupted with a snort of disbelief.
“Really? Because the last time we talked, you called me a ‘spoiled princess who’s never touched dirt with her hands.’”
Kiba had the decency to blush at the memory. Yes, he’d said that, and in his defense, Neji had been particularly condescending during a mission where they’d ended up covered in mud. But now, looking at him there, lying in the hospital bed with his gown slipping off his shoulder and his collarbones exposed, he felt like the biggest idiot in the world for saying it.
“Okay, fine, I said it. And… maybe I meant it. You’re insufferable, Neji. You have a personality that drives me crazy. But that doesn’t change the fact that…”—his voice lowered slightly, as if confessing something shameful—“you’re beautiful.”
Neji looked at him with a mix of disbelief and alarm. He had no idea what was happening, but the Kiba Inuzuka he knew would never have said something like that.
“This is ridiculous,” Neji said, pressing his lips together. “You’re not doing me any favors by acting like this.”
Kiba trembled slightly, like an animal trapped between its instincts and a spark of humanity that refused to extinguish. His eyes, usually full of confidence and a certain arrogance, were now dark, almost feral. His hands began to rise slowly to his head, fingers digging into his scalp as if trying to claw out something that wasn’t there.
“Acting?” he repeated, a strange, coarse laugh escaping his throat. “You think I’m acting? If I were…”—he stopped, his voice breaking on the last breath—“it would be so much easier.”
The laughter faded, and for a moment, silence was absolute. Then, like lightning illuminating the sky in an endless storm, a flash of clarity crossed his mind.
What am I doing here?
Fleeting, but enough to stop him. It was as if, for a moment, the fog keeping him sedated parted just enough for him to see.
Hinata. Her image formed in his mind, clear and warm, like a beacon in the darkness. Yes, he liked Hinata, and that was complicated enough on its own. But there was something more. Something that clenched his chest and chilled his blood.
"Shino," he murmured, barely a whisper, almost inaudible.
Neji frowned, leaning slightly toward him.
"What?"
Inuzuka stepped back, as if the mere sound of his own voice had unleashed something he’d rather not face. His hand slid over his face, now pressing against his forehead with a force that bordered on painful. It was as if he were trying to erase a thought, a memory that refused to stay buried. As if the person thinking all those dirty things about Neji wasn’t himself.
"Shino... my best friend. He..." The words spilled from his lips, confused, halting, almost alien.
Neji blinked, baffled, as if the statement made no sense at all in that moment.
"What are you talking about?"
Kiba swayed, caught between lucidity and the madness of the heat, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Shino is in love with you."
The phrase echoed in the room. He didn’t say it as a reproach, not even as a revelation meant for Neji. He said it as if he were talking to himself, as if that knowledge were a lifeline he was trying to cling to, to avoid sinking deeper into the nonsense he was caught in. It should have been enough. That truth, so simple and devastating, should have drawn an impossible line to cross.
But it wasn’t.
The scent, the... genjutsu... was still there. Thick, suffocating, wrapping around him like a mantle he couldn’t shake off. It was a presence that seeped into every corner of his mind, extinguishing logic, ripping out the roots of his will.
Neji watched him, unmoving, his expression wavering between confusion and something closer to fear.
"Wait a second," Neji said, now visibly uncomfortable. "Are you saying that Shino... what...?"
He didn’t finish the sentence because Kiba took another step toward him. The distance between them became so small that Neji could feel the heat of Kiba’s body, and his instinct was to retreat, but he was trapped against the bed.
Inuzuka’s shoulders trembled, and for a moment, it seemed he had won. That the flash of clarity would hold.
But then he looked up, and Neji knew it wouldn’t.
"Damn it," Kiba murmured, his eyes shining with an intensity that frightened the Hyuga. "I can’t fight this anymore."
And before he could react, Kiba leaned in and kissed him.
It was a desperate, wild kiss. Neji’s mouth tasted like something sweet, and he hated sweets, but now it seemed like the most delicious thing in the world.
Neji shoved him away forcefully, breaking the kiss as if his life depended on it, and shouted, his voice rough and charged with fury:
"What the hell are you doing?!"
And out of nowhere, something changed.
Kiba saw it clearly, as if he had been waiting for that moment. The shift was immediate, making it impossible to ignore. The anger in Neji’s eyes disappeared, transforming into something more dangerous, more unsettling. The Hyuga, always rigid like a statue carved from ice, seemed to relax in a way that wasn’t natural for him. His shoulders dropped slightly, his posture leaned forward, and a smile curled his lips.
It wasn’t the usual smile of someone calm. It was something twisted, a gesture filled with an unfamiliar coquettishness that had nothing to do with the Neji Kiba knew.
The Inuzuka felt a shiver run down his spine, but it wasn’t entirely fear. It was something closer to ecstasy, to the adrenaline of tasting something forbidden. Like the feeling of standing before something that shouldn’t exist.
"What are you doing?" Neji asked, but his tone had changed. There was no fury this time, only a playful, dangerous curiosity. His eyes, normally hard and calculating, which looked at him with disgust and annoyance, now gleamed with something different.
Neji tilted his head slightly, and the smile on his face widened. Even the way he moved was different: smoother, almost feline, as if the rigid posture he always held had completely disappeared.
He crawled over the bed toward Kiba, moving his hips as he did so. Slowly, sensually.
Inuzuka opened his mouth, bewildered. Since when did Neji have that kind of figure?
"What’s the matter, Kiba?" he asked, his voice now lower, with a cadence it had never had before. "Are you scared of what you see? Or is it... that you like it?"
The question hit him like a punch. It wasn’t just what he saw, but what he felt.
“Neji, damn it… I want to push you against the wall and fuck you so hard…”
Neji laughed softly, a sound that was so foreign to him that it made Kiba’s skin crawl.
Kiba took another step back, but Neji moved forward, closing the distance between them. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper laden with an intent the dog ninja recognized immediately.
“Cut the crap…” he said, his smile now almost predatory. “Really do it.”
Kiba felt something inside him break. It was as if he was fighting two beasts: one inside him and one in front of him, both ready to devour him.
And Neji—or whatever he was now—just waited, enjoying the show.
“You heard me,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. And then, in a gesture that had none of the coldness that usually characterized him, he took Kiba’s wrist and placed it on his own cheek, a contact so gentle that it made the Inuzuka shiver.
The heat inside them both became unbearable, an electric current that united them and at the same time seemed to consume them. Kiba, dominated by that animal instinct that boiled in his blood, leaned in again, this time with less haste but with more intention.
His lips found their way against the older man's neck, that delicate skin that felt so warm. He felt like a predator nibbling on his delicious prey, playing with it before sinking his teeth in completely. Kiba scattered kisses from behind Neji's ear, pulling at his earlobe with his teeth until he lowered his nose to the junction of his neck and shoulders, tasting the bones of his collarbones.
The Hyuga, surprisingly, didn't stop him. Instead, he let out small moans that only motivated the other. Kiba didn't want to think about what this meant, or how he had gotten to this point.
His hands moved instinctively, resting on the older's ass with a firmness that made him shudder. Kiba breathed against his mouth.
"I want you to suck me off," he whispered as he kissed the corner of Neji's lips. Neji just giggled and then licked the younger's lips.
He threw off his hospital gown as the dog ninja stared enthralled at those hips, thinking about how they would move on top of him. The garment was the only thing Neji was wearing, however, Kiba still had all his clothes on. The Hyuga got on his knees to unbutton his pants and lower the zipper. When his long fingers pulled at the elastic of the younger's boxers, his penis sprang out, earning another mischievous smile from Neji. He began to slowly masturbate him with one hand while caressing his testicles with the other, to first moisten the glans with his tongue and then move it up and down following the same rhythm as his hand at the base.
When Neji finally took it all in his mouth, Kiba started with a shiver.
He looked down. Only with the pleasure that his mouth and hands were giving him, added to the totally slutty face that the Hyuga had at that moment, he would have been able to cum. The idea was too exciting because although Neji was putting his soul into it, the inexperience was noticeable, there was some clumsiness in the act and that seemed much more exciting to him, making him harder.
To think that Neji Hyuga, his highness, his majesty, who until then seemed so frigid and undoubtedly a virgin, was now sucking a guy's cock for the first time in his life. That Kiba was the lucky one. The person Neji could least stand and with whom he constantly argued. The voice was right, he could finally give that haughty bitch what he deserved.
“It’s what he’s earned for being so arrogant.", he heard again somewhere.
It was right.
He grabbed the Hyuga's head and pulled it towards him, beginning to fuck his mouth as if his life depended on it, to the point that Neji's hands gripped Kiba's legs trying to free himself and pitiful sounds came from him as he almost suffocated, but his tongue and lips never stopped providing pleasure.
The cumshot was sensational, a powerful orgasm that spilled right down the back of the older man's throat; the Inuzuka then released him and Neji fell back, leaning on his elbows, with a red face, covered in sweat and swollen lips, a trail of saliva and semen fell all over his chin and down his chest, and that was when Kiba realized how bulging his pectorals were, they looked like a girl's A-cup breasts.
All combined made him look like a freshly fucked whore.
His penis, now flaccid, slowly took shape again.
"For someone who says so much shit the few times you deign to speak, your mouth is magical," he commented, catching his breath.
“T-thank you” Neji answered, surprising the younger boy greatly by not receiving a scathing comment in return “It was incredible for me too but…”
“But?”
“I was hoping…you know…my ass…”
“Ah, you expected me to fuck you in the ass?”
Neji nodded as if embarrassed, his gaze wilting as if trying to imitate Hinata's innocence, but Kiba knew deep down it was all acting.
Doing it in the ass had never been his favorite thing to do, it took a lot of work and the girls he was usually with, paid or not, didn't usually ask for it, but he would have to be a consummate idiot to waste Neji's hot body that, looking at it again and remembering the multiple times he saw it in the hot springs, he didn't have before. He didn't know at what time his ass had gotten fatter, his hips had widened and his chest had changed shape, but he wouldn't deny that it made him drool and think dirty things that he never imagined thinking about Neji Hyuga.
Almost as if reading her mind, Neji, who was already on the carpeted floor, turned around, got on all fours, rested his head on the floor and spread his buttocks with his hands.
“Please… I need it. I want it” he said.
Kiba blinked, overwhelmed by the wave of heat that coursed through his body and fully awakened his second erection. It was as if all his senses were awakened at once, amplified, sharpened, almost painful. Something inside him snapped. The control he had managed to maintain over his canine biology for weeks, months, crumbled in an instant.
His nails lengthened into claws as his hands shook, his skin beginning to darken with thick hair spreading across his arms and back. His jaw widened, revealing protruding, razor-sharp fangs. His eyes, usually warm, now glowed a wild amber, the pupil reduced to a thin slit.
All Kiba could think about was Neji. Her round, inviting ass, the deep blush on his cheeks, the line of his neck that was perfect for biting.
Kiba growled again, louder this time, and took a step towards the Hyuga, who was looking down at him with a mix of surprise and desire. Kiba couldn't speak, couldn't think, there was only an instinct inside him that told him to claim him, to mark him, as if Neji belonged to him.
He cupped Neji’s ass with both of his monstrous hands, kneading it. He started by kissing his ass and worked his way up to running his long dog-like tongue over his anus. Neji squirmed and let out a sigh that sounded like “Gods!” Kiba held him tighter to prevent any unwanted movements, focusing on spitting first before forcing the tip of his tongue into his entrance.
Neji wasn't a virgin as Kiba had initially thought, in fact, judging by the scent that only his dog-like nose could detect and by the state of his anu, it hadn't been long since he was fucked, maybe a day, and they had also cumming inside him. Neji had cleaned the area, but only Kiba could tell.
“Who would have thought that the righteous prince, the ninja with the impeccable attitude and example for everyone, would turn out to be a slut who lets them finish inside him.”
As he said this, Kiba shoved a whole finger into Neji's ass, which was easily received, causing the Hyuga to gasp. Well, if he was already open and used, he wouldn't have to waste time with bullshit. He positioned himself behind Neji and slammed it in hot, tearing a scream from Neji's throat, which he immediately silenced by putting his hand over his mouth.
He pushed inside him, dizzy from ecstasy and how delicious Neji's inner walls were squeezing his cock. When the older man's screams turned into moans, he removed his hand and held him by the hips, in a more comfortable position to penetrate him, staying like that for several minutes where he kept the Hyuga's head on the floor and his ass high in the air to get it in all the way.
The second orgasm came with force, causing the Inuzuka to fuck him even faster if possible. His penis swelled inside Neji's cavity, to prevent even a drop of his seed from spilling out.
And Neji, his face still pressed to the ground, full of tears, had his own cum, causing his body to tremble in ecstasy and pitiful moans to come out of his mouth. His semen fell onto the carpet.
“Oh, you cum without touching yourself. What a talent” Kiba said simply, still without leaving the Hyuga's body. In fact, his penis was hardening again.
That was the bad thing about Inuzuka puberty, his sexual libido was uncontrollable once it was released.
"Are you going to fuck me again?" Neji asked, barely able to speak due to his throat being torn apart from his previous screams.
“Do you want me to? Once I start I won't be able to stop, it could last hours. Days. I could hurt you very, very much.”
Neji didn't move or try to separate himself from Kiba, who was still inside him. His hips were bruised where he had been held, as well as small claw marks scattered across his chest. He looked in pain, but turned to look at him with a feline look, something dangerous that made his usually white pupils seem tinged with a slight pink.
Something feline…A pesky cat.
“Use me all you want” he said.
The next few hours were crazy, especially since despite being in a hospital there was no one to interrupt, to arrive unexpectedly. Kiba fucked Neji on the bed, on the floor, against the wall and on the few pieces of furniture there were. There came a point where it seemed that the Hyuga seemed to be no longer conscious and then Kiba had to lightly tap him on the cheeks to make sure he hadn't killed him. He knew he was a monster, an animal, who in that state didn't see Neji as anything more than a hole to crawl into. The Hyuga didn't seem to care, apart from moaning like a whore he never complained or asked him to stop, quite the opposite, at times Kiba would pull out suddenly and Neji would pout and beg to have it inside him again.
He completely lost track of time and himself, his head was in chaos, only for brief moments he remembered how much he hated the Hyuga and that only inspired him to be more cruel, to say dirty things to him. But another part of him, more closely linked to his animal instinct, looked at Neji with a certain affection and fascination.
------------------
Kiba woke up with a start, as if someone had thrown cold water in his face. His breathing was erratic, his heart beating so fast he could almost feel it pounding in his ears. The unfamiliar ceiling of the room stared back at him in the darkness, and it didn’t take long for him to realize where he was. The sweet and intoxicating scent of Neji still lingered in the air, though now it was faint, mixed with sweat and a repugnant smell that Kiba was certain, once again, only he could detect.
The smell of sex.
When he turned his head, he saw him. Neji lay sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep, his hair spread like a dark stain across the pillow. His breathing was steady, but his face was still slightly flushed, just as before. Kiba swallowed hard, a pang of guilt hitting him like a sledgehammer to the chest.
He blinked several times, trying to focus, and noticed that the room was a complete mess. The bed was torn apart, the sheets crumpled and thrown onto the floor. A broken vase lay near the window, and papers were scattered everywhere.
“Shit… What did I do?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper that dissolved into the room.
He remembered nothing.
It was a damn black hole in his mind, as if someone had flipped a switch in his memory. The last thing he recalled was seeing Neji, and then… nothing. His body felt strange, exhausted, as if he’d been fighting for hours, but the strongest sensation was fear. A fear that was tearing him apart from the inside.
He sat up abruptly, almost tripping over his own legs as he tried to back away, to organize his thoughts. He couldn’t believe it, but the state of the room didn’t lie: something had happened. Something that filled him with an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame.
“This is wrong… This is so fucking wrong…” he whispered, running his hands through his hair.
He tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths, but the knot in his throat wouldn’t go away. He needed to leave, to get out of there as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t just leave everything like this. He couldn’t let Neji wake up to this mess without any explanation.
With quick, shaky movements, he began picking up the scattered papers, stacking them clumsily on the dresser. Then he gathered the broken pieces of the vase, feeling the weight of each shard as if it were evidence of something he couldn’t remember. Seeing the morning sunflowers on the vase only made him feel worse. He placed the sheets over Neji on the bed, not bothering to arrange them neatly, but at least they were no longer on the floor.
He glanced at Neji one last time, at his peaceful face, his steady breathing. How could he look so calm after… whatever had happened? Had he done something? Crossed a line? The very thought churned Kiba’s stomach.
Kiba moved toward the door, his steps clumsy and rushed, but something stopped him. He turned to look at Neji, feeling that he should at least say something, even if the Hyūga couldn’t hear him.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know what I did, but… I’m really sorry.” The words came out with difficulty, rough, but he left them there, as if they could somehow erase the damage.
Without waiting for a response, he fled through the window, into the outside world.
The fresh air hit his face, but it didn’t help him calm down. His mind kept racing, filling with thoughts he didn’t want to hear.
The only thing he knew was that he had to get away, and fast.
Notes:
Soon, I’ll be returning from vacation to the university, so it’s very likely that posts will be reduced to one per week, on Saturdays or Sundays. I’ll try to make as much progress as I can on Chapter Five over these next two days.
Please feel free to leave any opinions, suggestions, theories, or death threats in the comments :) Each and every one of them motivates me to continue this story and write more Shikaneji. We’re a small fandom, but from what I’ve seen, a close-knit one.
Also, I have an account on X [@XerLovesNeji](https://x.com/XerLovesNeji) where I’ve been posting and will continue to post my drawings of Neji, Shikaneji, and maybe some other pairings with him :) I hope you’ll follow me there too.
Until next time!
Chapter 5: The despair
Summary:
Neji's retellings of recent events. Something evil is growing inside him, something that is slowly stealing his identity as he tries to hold on to his old self and morals through the teachings that the Hyuga clan have implanted in his mind. Neji collapses without anyone else noticing, with Shikamaru as his only ally, but fearing that this "thing", these unbridled sexual impulses, will alienate the only person he really cares about.
Notes:
A chapter that could be a little confusing. Almost a character study of Neji. A little more of the Hyuga lore before they make their appearance in the plot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 5: The Despair
The words carved into the stone were clear:
"Precepts of the Hyūga Clan's Branch Family:
My existence is not my own; it belongs to those who dictate my destiny. I will seek no glory, demand no justice, and know no freedom. I will not love, possess, or desire, and no protest will pass my lips, for the Hyūga do not yield, do not beg, do not break.
I am the shadow that protects their light. I am the eyes that never close. I am the wall that absorbs the blows, the dagger that rises in their defense, the tool that preserves their lineage.
I relinquish my life, my name, and all that I might become, to serve without rest or end, for the Hyūga do not show emotion, do not display weakness.
I offer my body, my soul, and my future to the service of the Main Branch. Everything I am and everything I will be belongs to them, from this day until my final breath."
Neji was only five years old, but his small body already bore the weight of a fury too great to contain. In front of him stood the imposing stone tablet where the Precepts of the Branch Family were engraved. It seemed to mock his small stature and his existence. The words carved into its surface were precise, cruel, eternal.
They were a cage.
The wind blew strongly in the courtyard where the stone stood, kicking up small clouds of dust. Neji felt the cold against his cheeks, but barely registered it. His small hands were clenched into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.
"My existence is not my own..."
The first line of the precept echoed in his head like an endless refrain. It was the line he hated the most because it told him everything he needed to know. Nothing about who he was, nothing about who he would become, belonged to him.
“It’s not fair…” he whispered, his voice breaking with anger.
He had heard the adults repeat those words as if they were sacred, as if the stone was an altar before which they must bow. But to Neji, it was just a damn rock—cold, hard, imposing. A constant reminder of everything he could never be.
He looked at the words again, their perfect shapes, their deep grooves, like open scars in the stone. Why did he have to learn them? Recite them daily with the other children? Why did he have to live by them?
“This isn’t fair…” he repeated, louder this time, as he felt the anger rise in his chest, suffocating him.
He bent down and picked up a stone from the ground. It was rough and small, but in his hands, it felt heavy, as if it carried the weight of all his frustration. Without thinking twice, he hurled it at the tablet.
The dull sound of impact was unsatisfying. The stone tablet remained undamaged, not even a scratch marring its perfectly polished surface where the words seemed to whisper from the shadows.
“Those words mean nothing!” he shouted, grabbing another stone.
This time, he threw it harder, but the result was the same. The rock stood there, indifferent, unyielding, while Neji felt something inside him fracture a little more.
"I will not love, I will not possess, I will not desire..."
How could they demand that? How could they force them to give up everything while asking them to be unyielding, strong, indomitable, like the Hyūga they were supposed to be?
The contradiction enraged him as much as the words themselves. If everything about him belonged to them, why did he need to be strong? If he was just a tool, why did it matter if he was broken?
How could they expect him to want nothing? How could they tell him he couldn’t love when he still remembered the warmth of his father’s hands before they took him away?
The thought of his father made his fury morph into something darker.
“You too!” he shouted, as if his father could hear him from beyond death. “You gave in too! You let them take you!”
Why had his father accepted all of this? Why had he allowed himself to be led to his death, as if it were just another extension of those damn precepts? Why had he left Neji alone, with a destiny he hadn’t chosen and a burden he couldn’t bear?
Tears began to fill his eyes, hot and treacherous, but Neji ignored them. He grabbed another stone and another, throwing them at the tablet again and again until his arms began to ache.
“I hate you!” he finally screamed, his voice echoing in the empty courtyard.
But he wasn’t sure who he hated more: his father, for leaving him, or himself, for being unable to stop any of it.
When his hands finally fell limp, exhausted, he looked at the stone tablet one more time. The wind had blown away the dust from the stones he had thrown, and the words glistened in the sunlight as if mocking him.
"I relinquish my life, my name, and all that I might become..."
Neji let out a sob, a wrenching sound he barely allowed himself to hear. He turned and ran toward the house, carrying a silent promise that, one day, he would make that damn rock disappear.
A few years later, he asked Shino Aburame to use his insects to erode the rock.
The tablet split in two, right down the middle, and for a week it was removed from the courtyard of the estate where the Branch Family lived. For that brief time, he felt a glimmer of peace, no longer having to see that thing every day—the thing he had memorized and was forced to engrave in his mind as deeply as the cursed seal itself.
But the words returned. A metal plaque, even larger, was erected on a wall in the main temple.
Neji realized then that he was fighting a battle he could not win.
----
The night Neji lay in bed with the doctor, everything that followed became a void of time his mind could neither process nor wanted to fill.
He didn’t know when the man left; he wasn’t even sure if he saw him go. What he remembered with absolute clarity was the suffocating sensation of his own skin, as if it no longer belonged to him.
He woke abruptly at five in the morning, a conditioned reflex that, though no longer necessary, still persisted. For a fleeting moment, he clung to the hope that it had all been a nightmare: the toxin invading and altering his body, the medical treatment with Tsunade to stop its progress, and most of all, that sexual encounter with the stranger.
Then the pain hit him. A sharp, burning pain in his lower back, as if his body were punishing him for something he couldn’t comprehend. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore it, trying to convince himself it was just temporary discomfort—that the searing ache wasn’t because he had let a man take him for hours, stealing his chastity. But when he opened his eyes and took in the state of the room, his world crumbled.
The mess was the first thing he noticed. The air was heavy, rank with a lingering stench, as though the room itself retained the echo of something that should never have happened. The sheets were disheveled, wrinkled, and stained with traces of blood and other fluids he refused to name.
Blood. Because it had been his first time.
He could have vomited on the spot. He bit his lower lip hard, trying to suppress a scream, a sob, the trembling in his hands. It had been his first time… and it had been with a complete stranger… with a man.
He tried to stand, but his legs, numb and weak, refused to respond. A flash of panic coursed through him as he forced himself to move, dragging himself toward the bathroom in clumsy, desperate motions. Every step sent a searing reminder through him, a burning sensation he couldn’t ignore.
Gods, his lower body ached.
He made his way directly to the shower. The water poured over him, as if it could wash away more than just the sweat and exhaustion. It was scalding hot, hitting his skin, but Neji barely felt it. He had turned the temperature up to the edge of burning, as if that might purge whatever was inside him, as if it could cleanse him somehow. Yet the heat only reddened his skin while his mind swirled with fragmented, incoherent thoughts.
He remembered snippets—words he had spoken, things he had done—but they didn’t feel like his own. Or at least, he didn’t feel like himself. The images were blurry, as though he had observed them from a distance, trapped behind an invisible barrier while someone else took control of his body.
The door to the room opening. The doctor kissing him. His own low laughter, as if he were enjoying it. His hands clutching the sheets, while he moaned, while he begged the man to do unspeakable things to him, while the man touched him. On his chest, his legs, his groin, everywhere. He could still feel those hands all over him.
He scrubbed his arms furiously, as if he could peel something off his own body, but the fear and disgust remained.
Every movement was a reminder of the pain in his hips, but he kept scrubbing desperately. As he bent to wash his legs, he felt it: a sticky, whitish substance sliding slowly down his thighs, tracing a path from his groin to the back of his knee. Someone else’s semen.
His eyes widened, and the world seemed to stop. His mind rejected what he was seeing, unable to process it. That sticky substance—it was too much. Gods, it was too much.
His hands trembled as he tried to clean himself frantically, but the touch of his own skin only made it worse. His vision blurred, and a choked sob escaped his throat. That bastard had finished inside him. That filth was inside his body.
The Hyūga do not show emotion, do not display weakness, he repeated to himself desperately, over and over, clinging to each word as he scrubbed away the remnants of the man’s seed.
Every fiber of his being wanted to scream, but no sound came out. His body shook like a leaf, battered by an internal chaos he couldn’t control.
He collapsed onto the cold floor, ignoring the pain of sitting down. For a moment, he wished he wasn’t conscious, wished he could be the empty tool the Hyūga clan wanted him to be. Because being anything else—someone who could feel this level of revulsion and anguish—was too much to bear.
Nausea rose in his throat, a visceral response to the disgust he felt for himself.
What have you done?
The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. He didn’t want one. Because admitting what had happened, what he had allowed, meant facing something he wasn’t ready to confront.
Avoiding it his entire life. Everything he had always been, everything he had believed himself to be, felt tainted, ruined.
I will not love, possess, or desire, and no protest will pass my lips, dictated the Precepts of the Branch Family of his clan. Everything I am belongs to them.
And now, those words felt more like a condemnation than ever before. He had allowed his body, his purity, his control, to be taken from him. What remained now was emptiness. A void that hurt more than any wound ever could.
He let himself collapse to the bathroom floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as tremors coursed through his body. He wanted to disappear, to tear off his skin, to erase every trace of what had happened. But he couldn’t. And that powerlessness dragged him deeper into the darkness.
For the Hyūga do not yield, do not beg, do not break…
Neji stayed on the bathroom floor for a long time, his back pressed against the cold ceramic tiles, his legs drawn up to his chest. His hands kept trembling, and each breath felt like a monumental effort.
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could block out the memories, but it was useless. The words he had whispered into the doctor’s ear, the heat he had felt on his skin, the actions he would never have allowed in his right mind… all of it returned to him with cruel clarity.
"No!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small bathroom.
The echo hit him like a whip. Furious, he stood up abruptly, staggering as he braced a hand against the wall for balance.
"Enough!" he shouted again, this time slamming his fist against the wall.
The impact was dull, a soft thud that reverberated in the enclosed space. But the pain was immediate, sharp, shooting through his hand like an electric shock. He looked down at his knuckles, already reddened and starting to swell.
Without his chakra, his punches had no real strength. It was as if even his body had abandoned him, leaving him adrift—weak, defenseless. That lack of power consumed him.
Neji punched the wall again, harder this time. The pain intensified, but he didn’t care. It was better to feel that than the suffocating disgust overwhelming him.
"Everything I fought for…!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
His purity, his discipline, his self-control—all that had defined his identity now felt like a distant memory, something stolen from him. But the worst part wasn’t that someone else had taken it. The worst part was knowing, deep down, that it had been him.
Or at least, a part of him he didn’t understand. A part that terrified him.
He punched the wall once more, ignoring the pain now radiating up his arm.
Stumbling out of the shower, he made his way to the sink, barely able to stand. He lifted his gaze to the mirror, expecting to see the reflection he knew: flawless, with not a hair out of place, his face clean and serene. But what stared back at him was a stranger, a creature he didn’t recognize.
His hair was disheveled, his face pale and gaunt, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His white irises seemed to fade, barely visible. He looked… filthy.
He stared down at his bruised hands, trembling even more now, and a low sob escaped him. He couldn’t recognize himself—not in his actions, not in his thoughts, not in his reflection.
Running a hand through his hair, he tangled his fingers in it, gripping his head. The pain began to throb, a dull ache at his temples.
"You’re disgusting, Hyūga," he muttered in a broken voice.
The words were little more than a whisper in the silence, but in his mind, something seemed to respond. A chill ran down his spine.
At last, you say something true.
The thought struck him like a slap. It was his own voice, yet it wasn’t. Sharper, more precise, cutting through his defenses.
He clenched his eyes shut, gripping the edges of the sink with trembling hands. Of course, this was what he deserved. This was his conscience, punishing him for what he had done. Judgment, creeping in and unrelenting.
"I brought this on myself," he murmured, not entirely sure why it was his fault—but knowing deep down that it was.
Of course you did, the voice in his mind replied, clearer now, more defined. What did you expect? Your whole life, they told you what to feel, how to act, who to be. They filled you with rules, chains, pills…
Neji gritted his teeth, frozen in place, struggling to catch his breath with each passing second.
And the moment they let you loose, even for a second, what did you do? You gave yourself. Because, in the end, that’s what you are. A broken toy that doesn’t know what to do with itself without an owner.
Admit it, Neji. What happened made you feel something. Something you’ve always denied.
His stomach churned, and the nausea surged again, stronger this time.
"That’s not true!"
Oh, but it is. You felt it. And that’s your biggest fear, isn’t it? That it wasn’t the toxin. That it wasn’t someone else. That it was you. That everything that happened was already inside you, waiting to come out.
Neji let out a strangled cry, slamming his open palm against the mirror. The sound reverberated in the bathroom, but the reflection didn’t change. He turned toward the shattered pieces of the mirror, his eyes wild, searching for answers in his own reflection, some sign that he still had control over something. But the mirror stared back at him with a blank, merciless gaze, as if the truth had finally been laid bare.
"I’m not like that!"
They trained you to obey, to feel nothing. And look at you now: dirty, tainted, dishonored and worst of all… happy for just a moment to be that way.
The word happy struck him like a dagger, a concept so foreign, so undeserving, that his body rejected it entirely. A dry heave overtook him, twisting his abdomen as though something dark within him wanted to escape. He leaned over the sink, a harsh sound escaping his throat, as though he were tearing pieces of himself out.
There was nothing in his stomach, but that didn’t stop him from vomiting. What came out was clear, bitter, a liquid that burned as much as the words that had provoked it. He staggered, his hands gripping the edge of the sink as if that piece of porcelain was the only thing anchoring him to the real world.
He coughed, once, twice, the dry, painful sound filling the bathroom. The acidic taste lingered in his mouth, but he didn’t dare lift his gaze to the mirror. He didn’t want to see those dead, white eyes again.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The shadow in the mirror, the one that shouldn’t have been there but could only be him. It was smiling.
Neji squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to forget. But the image was already seared into his mind, and the words kept echoing, louder and louder, truer and truer.
Happy for a moment, Neji. You felt it. You wanted it. You enjoyed it. And that’s what you hate the most, isn’t it?
He sank to his knees on the cold bathroom floor, his nails scraping against the tiles as he tried to hold onto something—anything—while his body shook with a terror he couldn’t control.
"I didn’t… I didn’t want this" he murmured, his voice barely a broken whisper.
And then, he woke up. Again.
The hospital room was wrapped in heavy silence, the curtains carelessly drawn. A halo of morning light seeped through a small gap, casting a golden line on the polished floor. But that light, far from comforting, made him feel out of place—trapped between day and night, between dream and reality.
How much time had passed?
Was this a dream? Reality?
The room was spotless. Too clean. The suffocating smell of disinfectant and ammonia filled every corner. The sheets had been changed—white, pristine, devoid of any traces of fluids, stains, or evidence of what had happened. Even the gown he wore was immaculate, as though someone had tried to erase everything. And that’s exactly what this was about—the doctor had sent a nurse to clean, to erase incriminating evidence.
He glanced down at his hands, wrapped in bandages with surgical precision. Yes, that’s what had happened.
He turned slightly toward the bathroom corner. The mirror was gone. They had removed the broken pieces, cleaned every trace of his outburst.
Neji closed his eyes, clinging to the idea that maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he would wake up again, and everything would be fine.
The world felt unreal, as though he were seeing everything through fogged glass. The hospital sounds, distant and muffled, seemed like echoes from a place that no longer existed for him.
Is this happening now? he thought. Am I dreaming? Or am I just falling apart?
Time in the room felt frozen, as though the clock had stopped moving at some point he couldn’t remember. The sun climbed higher in the sky, marking noon, but he remained lying there, motionless beneath the pristine sheets that felt like a cruel mockery. The energy to move, to think, to exist simply wasn’t there.
His body felt heavy, but his mind… his mind was a whirlwind of uncontrollable thoughts. Every image, every whispered word in his head, piled up like an unbearable weight on his chest. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to think.
The sound of footsteps snapped him out of his stupor, followed by a soft knock on the door. Shikamaru’s voice broke the silence, calm yet firm, and a part of him tensed instantly. Why did it have to be him?
Shikamaru entered with Kiba trailing behind, but Neji didn’t look up. He only muttered, “I don’t want to see anyone” before turning to face the wall, as though that could push them away from his world. And it was true. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing him like this, especially him. Shikamaru had always been someone he admired, someone who seemed to see beyond the obvious, someone who… No, don’t think about that.
The Nara made Kiba leave, shutting the door behind him. The air grew heavier as Neji found himself alone with him. The scrape of a chair being pulled closer to the bed made him grip the sheets tightly.
At first, Shikamaru said nothing. He didn’t have to. There was something about his presence—calm but probing—that made Neji feel exposed. The silence felt deliberate, like it was meant to wait him out, to draw him into speaking.
Neji couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the idea of Shikamaru seeing him like this, so weak, so broken. But there was something in the tone of his voice when he finally spoke—something different. It wasn’t pity, nor judgment. It was… steady.
That steadiness felt like both a curse and a lifeline, as though, for a fleeting moment, he could be safe.
Heat rose to his throat, and for a brief moment, he thought that maybe—just maybe—he could speak. That he could tell Shikamaru about the storm raging inside him, the chaos he didn’t understand. But then, the pain in his lower back shot through him—a cruel reminder of what had happened.
“Neji, are you okay?” Shikamaru’s voice broke through the silence.
Everything came rushing back: the images, the disgust, the despair. Dirty. Stained. Dishonored. The words hammered in his mind relentlessly, and before he could stop himself, the tears began to fall.
“Get out!” he suddenly shouted, his voice cracked, almost hysterical.
Shikamaru’s face remained impassive, but Neji couldn’t bring himself to look at him directly. He knew that if he did—if he saw that mix of concern and disappointment—he wouldn’t be able to bear it.
When he was finally left alone, Tsunade appeared, informing him that he’d only need to stay under observation for one more day before being discharged. He nodded without really listening, his thoughts still ensnared by the tangle of images and sensations he couldn’t erase.
He tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, past and present blurred together in ways he couldn’t untangle. When exhaustion finally claimed him, he awoke hours later to the sound of the window being opened.
This time, it was Kiba.
The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow that sharply contrasted with the discomfort saturating the air. Kiba spoke, his tone casual, but Neji barely registered his words. Something about Shino. Something about Neji’s beauty that made his stomach churn.
And then, something shifted.
Kiba moved too close, invading the fragile space Neji had been desperately trying to maintain. Before he could react, he felt Kiba’s lips press against his.
Disgust surged through him like a torrent, mingled with a blinding fury. Another mockery? Another way to humiliate me?
And then… nothing.
Fragments. Tiny flashes. The metallic taste of rage, the heat of his own quickened breaths. Words he didn’t remember saying. An incomprehensible mixture of sensations that he couldn't put together, but that made his body feel very good.
Kiba fuck him like an animal—the same person who had always insulted him, who mocked his every move, who Neji didn’t even deem worthy of his disdain. That same fool now had his lips close to Neji’s ear, whispering obscene things while one arm wrapped tightly around his torso, the other yanking his hair violently, forcing his neck to arch back and expose his throat.
“Hey, princess! Look at you, so perfect, so unattainable, always looking down on us all. But now… now you are here, right where you belong. On your knees sucking my cock, begging me to fuck you from behind.”
Neji should have been furious, but anger, that spark that normally sustained him, felt far away. Instead, he felt sick pleasure in Kiba's every word.
“What happened to that ‘I'm better than all of you’ attitude?” he continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because now you look like nothing more than a prostitute. That's it! Even whores are better than you because they at least ask for money in return. But do you know what the best thing about this is?” Kiba pulled her hair a little harder, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “That you are enjoying it. You always wanted someone to put you in your place, right? But of course, you would never admit it. I see it in your face, in the way you're moving your hips, rubbing against my cock.”
Neji felt the heat rise up his neck, shame blending with something else—something he couldn’t identify, something that made him feel less like himself and more like… a thing. He responded almost shouting "yes" to everything Kiba said, behaved submissively even though it hurt him at the brutal way in which the other was skewering him with his dick.
But there was nothing wrong with that, was there? He was merely following the precepts of his clan, wasn’t he? “And no protest will pass my lips.” He didn’t protest the pain in his ass when Kiba's cock swelled inside him as he came, impregnating him like a bitch, from his lips only came moans and words of gratitude.
“Gods, it feels so good! Thank you, thank you! Fill me, please! You’ve always wanted to see me like this, haven’t you?! Break me! Tear me apart!”
When he came back to reality, he was alone again. Kiba was gone. His mind kept repeating the same questions:
Why am I doing these things? Why am I acting like this?
The chaos within him grew, expanding like a shadow he couldn’t stop. It felt as though something inside was breaking—like a crack that widened with each passing second.
It reminded him of the time as a child when he had begged Shino to make his insects break the Stone of the Precepts. The cursed thing had started to corrode, and then it finally split in two, all from a small crack in the middle.
Just like Neji’s head right now—a crack threatening to split him apart.
“This can’t be happening…” he murmured, hugging his legs as his breathing quickened.
The room felt smaller, more oppressive. And then he saw it.
In the reflection of the window, his face stared back at him. But it wasn’t his face. Or it was. There was something different—something dark and mocking in those eyes that didn’t belong to him. But they were his.
And although it said nothing, Neji felt it watching him, waiting.
Exhaustion enveloped him like an inescapable wave, pulling him down. The air grew dense, heavy, as though someone had reached into his brain and scrambled everything. His thoughts were chaotic, disconnected, and the pain in his back melded with the confusion until everything blurred together.
Finally, his eyelids fell. His body, unable to endure any more, surrendered to sleep—a void with no promises of rest.
---
The hospital room was quiet, bathed in soft light. Shikamaru entered soundlessly, his measured steps as if afraid of breaking something fragile. Neji was asleep, but the sound of the door opening made his eyes flutter open. Slowly, very slowly, he sat up in bed, his posture perfect as always but with a stillness that seemed too rigid to be comfortable.
Silence.
He had no idea what day it was, what time it was, or how long had passed since… Since what?
“I didn’t expect you to greet me with a ‘hello,’ but a gesture would suffice.”
Neji pressed his lips together, remaining motionless. He knew that if he moved even a little, he would lose the fragile control he was barely holding on to.
“What do you want, Shikamaru?” Neji murmured, his voice tense, focusing on keeping his mind blank.
“Just to talk,” Shikamaru replied, his tone so casual it almost sounded sincere. But Neji knew better. Shikamaru always had a purpose, even when he pretended otherwise.
“Have you gotten used to the hospital food yet?” Shikamaru asked lightly.
Neji glanced up, startled at first, but quickly returned to his mask of indifference.
“It could be worse,” he lied. In truth, he hadn’t eaten anything yet, though the nurses left trays for him. He simply wasn’t hungry.
Shikamaru sat in the chair next to the bed, letting himself drop into it with that lazy elegance that seemed so natural to him.
“At least you’re not eating mission rations. That would be torture,” he joked, trying to break the ice.
A faint curve appeared on Neji’s lips.
“I suppose you’re right.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Shikamaru let it linger, knowing Neji wasn’t the type to respond well to pressure. Finally, it was the Hyūga who spoke first.
“Why are you here again?”
"Because I can," Shikamaru replied, shrugging. "I figured I'd be better company than the ceiling."
Neji stared at him for a moment, evaluating him, trying to discern if there was more behind those words. But this time, as he looked at the Nara, something inside him felt different. His gaze lingered on Shikamaru’s collarbones, which peeked out slightly from beneath his shirt. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: They look so perfect.
The Hyūga blinked, alarmed by the direction of his thoughts. Why am I thinking about something so… absurd? He turned his gaze to the edge of the bed, trying to push the image away, but the thought persisted, like a shadow refusing to disappear.
Can you imagine touching them?
Neji pressed his lips together.
"I’m sorry for yelling at you," he said suddenly. "I think… I think it was yesterday, or I don’t know, but it wasn’t right, and I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to… just… Forgive me."
The words came out rushed, clumsy, as if he were relearning how to speak. Talking about emotions had never been his strength, but at that moment, it was especially difficult. He felt as though there were two people inside him, and only one was trying to maintain composure.
Shikamaru looked at him in silence, with an expression that wasn’t judgmental or pitying, but somehow managed to disarm him. It had always been like that with Shikamaru—that gaze that seemed to see beyond, as if he could strip him bare with just a look.
Finally, the Nara spoke, his expression shifting to one of deliberately exaggerated confusion.
"I understand and forgive you, but… yesterday? Neji, what are you talking about? I wasn’t here yesterday. What you’re referring to happened three days ago."
"Three days?" Neji repeated, his voice trembling slightly. It couldn’t be true. Just last night… Kiba…
The name in his mind made him shudder, but he tried to cling to something, anything.
"Really?" he asked quietly, now unsure of everything.
But then Shikamaru smiled, a gesture so rare it was unsettling.
"It was a joke. Sorry, you looked so lost I couldn’t help it."
Neji’s initial relief was quickly replaced by a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
"That’s not funny," he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away.
"It’s a little funny," Shikamaru said with a lopsided smile. "Though I admit it was a bit cruel."
The Hyūga pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face. He wanted to be more upset, but there was something about Shikamaru’s tone that made it impossible to stay genuinely angry with him.
"Seriously though," Shikamaru continued, his tone softening. "How are you feeling, Neji?"
Neji hesitated for a moment, his eyes lowering to the floor. He wanted to lie, to say he was fine, but he knew Shikamaru wouldn’t believe him. Not after his outburst the previous day.
"I’m… confused. This… I think it’s changing me, in ways I don’t know how to explain," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That’s normal, considering what this means," Shikamaru responded calmly. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you’d make a beautiful kunoichi, but we’re not going to let it get to that point. We're doing what we can, you know?"
Neji looked up, his eyes searching Shikamaru's face for some kind of clue.
"'We'?" he repeated, his voice carrying a mix of incredulity and skepticism.
"Ino’s been studying the toxin they injected you with," Shikamaru continued, ignoring the implicit question in Neji's tone. "She says its components come from rare flowers, even ones she’s not familiar with—and you know how good she is with botany."
Neji nodded slightly, though his thoughts were already drifting. Why are they doing this for me? he wondered. But before he could delve too deeply into that question, Shikamaru kept talking.
"Shino’s been investigating the clan that attacked us. Those Kimushimaru aren’t just some group of vagabonds; they have ancient, dangerous connections. Tsunade’s studying similar toxins and how to counteract their effects. She’s been poring over Sasori’s notes—the ones the Sand Village gifted her—but she hasn’t had much luck."
Hearing this, Neji felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest. All these efforts, all these people working… for him. But then Shikamaru added something that turned that warmth into a cold, hard knot.
"Even Kiba’s involved."
The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Oh. Right. Kiba.
Immediately, the memories of the previous night flooded his mind: the chaos, the confusion, the raw emotions. And then… what had happened.
Neji felt his breathing grow uneven.
If Shikamaru knew…
What would he think if he found out? If he knew how dirty, how impure, how… disgusting you can be?
The Hyūga turned his gaze away, clenching his fists against the sheets. He couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about Kiba, or the guilt, or the shame that burned inside him like fire.
"Neji, are you still with me?"
Shikamaru’s voice brought him back to the present, but it didn’t calm him. If anything, it only made the storm inside him worse.
But amidst the guilt and shame, something else stirred—something hotter, more demanding, something he couldn’t ignore. Shikamaru was there, so close, looking at him with those eyes that always seemed to know everything.
You want him. Why not just beg him to take you, to fuck you, like the others? His lips, his hands… Everything about him screams that he wants to be with you. Can’t you see it?
Neji gritted his teeth, fighting against himself, but it was no use. His gaze betrayed him, drifting to Shikamaru’s hands. They were large, strong, with long fingers that moved with an almost elegant precision.
How would they feel if they touched me?
The Hyūga shut his eyes tightly, trying to smother the thoughts, but they poured in relentlessly.
It’s not just his mind you want. It’s everything. You want all of him. Why not admit it?
"Not… with him. Not him." The words slipped out in a barely audible whisper, too quiet for Shikamaru to hear.
"Neji."
Shikamaru called his name again, his tone firmer this time. Neji looked at him, struggling to keep his composure.
"I’m… fine" he said, though both of them knew it was a lie.
Shikamaru didn’t respond immediately. He studied Neji carefully, his gaze steady and evaluating.
"Are you? Because it seems like there’s something else on your mind."
Tell him, tell him, tell him. You want him.
Look at how he watches you. Don’t you think he already knows?
Neji felt the heat rise to his face.
"I’m just tired" he said at last, looking away.
"Sure. Tired."
The sarcasm in Shikamaru’s voice was subtle, almost imperceptible, but to Neji, it felt like a blow.
He must have made some kind of gesture or expression that gave him away because Shikamaru shifted tactics, softening his tone.
"Neji, we’re all here to help you. You know that, right?"
Neji looked at him, and for a moment, his eyes filled with something akin to hope. But his thoughts quickly intruded.
Of course. Because you're his responsibility. That’s all it is. Just like last time.
Neji looked away again, gripping the sheets tightly. The contradiction inside him was unbearable. He wanted to believe in Shikamaru, in his words, in his intentions. But something wouldn’t let him.
And amidst it all, that burning desire, that uncontrollable longing, remained. He wanted Shikamaru to touch him, kiss him, tell him everything would be okay.
Pathetic, he thought, getting so worked up over a little attention.
Neji closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind, but the chaos inside him was relentless, unyielding.
That was when the door burst open, and Naruto’s unmistakable voice filled the room.
"Shikamaru! I’ve been looking for you!" he shouted. "Have you seen Kiba? That idiot said we were going to train, and he’s been missing since yesterday!"
"Did you seriously come all the way here just to ask me something that stupid?"
Naruto opened his mouth to protest, but before he could reply, his attention shifted to Neji. Suddenly, all his energy dissipated, and he froze for a second before recovering in his usual clumsy and rushed way.
"Oh! H-hey, Neji. How are you today? Better?" he asked awkwardly, his eyes darting around as if searching for an answer in the air. "Yeah, better, of course! Actually, you look very… very manly, I’d say. Yes, very manly. Those broad shoulders, that square jaw… Are you growing a beard? Looks like it. Oh, yeah, Neji, my buddy, the man."
He blurted it all out in one breath, nearly running out of air. He tried to strike a casual pose, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his chin up slightly, but the effect was more comedic than convincing.
Shikamaru let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead with his palm.
Neji watched the scene, unsure whether to laugh or feel concerned. He knew Naruto was lying—or at least exaggerating—to avoid making him feel bad. The truth was quite the opposite. He had seen himself in the mirror: his shoulders, far from broad, had narrowed; his jaw wasn’t square but finer than ever; his skin was soft and hairless, and his chest… Well, he didn’t want to think about that now.
And yet, he laughed. It was an abrupt, out-of-place laugh that even he found a bit psychotic. But he couldn’t help it, and seeing the bewildered faces of Shikamaru and Naruto only made him want to laugh more.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Naruto," he said between chuckles, pretending to believe him. "Of course, I’d say I’ve been feeling quite manly lately."
Naruto, in his usual clueless way, joined in the laughter, though it was clear he didn’t understand what was so funny.
Shikamaru, on the other hand, observed the scene with a small smile on his lips, though his eyes gleamed with a spark of analysis. Something in his mind seemed to be working, as always.
For a moment, Neji allowed himself to relax. There was something about Shikamaru’s presence that made him feel… okay. He remembered the time he had confessed to Lee that he was in love with the Nara—a confession made more to sort out his own mind than with any intention of acting on it. What had drawn him to Shikamaru had never been physical, though he knew the Nara was considered attractive. It was his kindness, his intelligence, his sarcastic humor, even that streak of cruelty that occasionally surfaced. But now…
Shikamaru’s smile—relaxed and natural—made him feel things he had never experienced before. His eyes, his hands, the way he tilted his head when observing him… By the gods, Neji thought, feeling heat rise to his face. He’s like one of those romantic interests in Hanabi’s romance comics.
"I’m glad to hear that," Naruto said, interrupting his thoughts. "Oh, right, Neji! Granny sent me to remind you that they’re discharging you this afternoon. Just a few more tests, and you’ll be free. Oh, and she said your clan wants to see you as soon as you’re out. Apparently, Lord Hiashi’s back with Hinata."
The mention of his uncle made Neji tense instantly. It was almost an automatic reflex, a reaction his body had before his mind even processed the words. He swallowed, lowering his gaze.
"Thank you, Naruto," he replied firmly, though his voice carried a hint of nervousness he couldn’t entirely hide.
Suddenly, he felt something. A touch, barely perceptible, but enough to catch his attention. Shikamaru’s hand had slid across the bed, lightly brushing against his leg. It was a casual gesture, probably unintentional, but for some reason, it comforted him more than any words could.
"It’s great that Hinata’s back! Kiba will be thrilled. And that’s not all," Naruto added excitedly. "Sasuke sent me a hawk this morning! He’s coming back too, and Kakashi’s with him."
That caught Shikamaru’s attention, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Kakashi?" Shikamaru asked, showing mild interest. "He came back earlier than I was told."
But Neji barely listened. His focus was trapped by something ridiculously insignificant: Shikamaru's hand, which had been close to his moments ago. Just a few centimeters away.
"Sasuke said they ran into the same problem," Naruto continued as if nothing unusual were happening. "He’s bringing something interesting for us and our mission. I told him what happened, and he said he had dealt with something similar…"
Shikamaru's tone changed instantly, turning cold and sharp.
"What? You told him? Using the hawk? Naruto, why the hell would you do that?!"
Naruto immediately went on the defensive.
"Don’t tell me you still don’t trust Sasuke! I thought we already talked about—"
"I don’t give a damn about Sasuke," Shikamaru interrupted, "but a hawk is ridiculously easy to intercept. The last thing we need is for the Kimushimaru to find out we’re onto them and how we plan to move."
"Oh, come on, Shikamaru. Sasuke’s hawks are super reliable. They’re Garuda’s offspring, so—"
They went back and forth for a few more minutes. Neji couldn’t say for sure; he wasn’t really listening. His mind was spiraling with delirious thoughts, as though he wasn’t even in his own body. He kept debating whether to touch Shikamaru’s hand or not. At the same time, he wondered what it would feel like to have Shikamaru over him—to have had the Nara walk in that night instead of the unknown healer. If Shikamaru had been his first time, his first kiss, as it always should have been.
It still could be. What did the other two—Kiba and that other man—matter? They didn’t count. If Naruto left now, maybe he could... stay alone with Shikamaru. Have some fun.
He was about to reach for his hand when Shikamaru abruptly stood up.
"Whatever! I want to be informed as soon as they both arrive. And go find Kiba—I need to know what he’s learned about the Inuzuka search and whether he’s had contact with his clan."
Naruto, less energetic after Shikamaru’s final comment, nodded brusquely and mumbled a quick, "Got it," before hurrying out of the room. Shikamaru watched the door close behind him and let out a sigh.
"That idiot…" he muttered, more to himself than to Neji. "His feelings for Sasuke make him a little dumb. One day, it’s going to cost him."
Neji looked at him but wasn’t entirely processing his words. His attention was fixated on something closer: Shikamaru’s hands, casually resting on the window frame, relaxed yet brimming with strength.
Look at that frown. How serious he looks. But those arms—did you notice? They look so strong. And his hands... so big. So powerful. How would they feel against my skin?
Neji blinked quickly, trying to push the thoughts away.
How would they feel around my neck?
What the hell, Neji.
But his gaze lingered, moving from Shikamaru’s hands to his neck, noting the curve of his Adam’s apple. It drifted down further, over the flat planes of Shikamaru’s stomach, surely firm as a rock, and then lower. His crotch. Neji swallowed hard. A bolder, unexpected, and unsettling thought surfaced: Gods, I want him inside me right now.
Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out, soft and almost playful:
"You have big hands, Shikamaru."
The Nara froze for a second, his expression shifting from confusion to mild surprise.
"What?"
Neji felt his cheeks heat up instantly. The bubble of intrusive thoughts popped, and he was snapped back to reality.
"Oh…" He brought a hand to his face, mortified. "Sorry, that… wasn’t what I meant to say."
"It’s fine, don’t worry," Shikamaru replied, brushing it off with a casual wave, though the intensity of his gaze made it clear he was analyzing what had just happened.
As always, Shikamaru smoothly shifted the subject, dissolving the tension.
"Anyway, about what Naruto said…" He began, leaning against the edge of Neji’s bed with his arms crossed. "I think it’s rude that your clan wants to demand you visit them when they couldn’t even bother to come here to check on you."
Neji shrugged, looking down.
"It wouldn’t be the first time."
The phrase came out more bitter than he had planned, and Shikamaru noticed it instantly.
“What do you mean by that?”
Neji looked up. His thoughts drifted back to that time when he was barely a preteen.
“Back then, when I almost died at Kidomaru’s hands. No one from my clan came to see me. Of course, I can’t blame Hinata, but the rest…” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “They scolded me for leaving the village without permission, even for almost dying and being out of commission for a month… but that was it. They didn’t even show up at the hospital.”
He paused for a moment, his words heavy, filling the room with an unspoken weight.
“I remember you came too,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.
“Ah…” Shikamaru let out a brief, dry laugh. “Yeah, I think I did.”
Neji nodded, his thoughts traveling back to those days in the hospital.
“You came every day, with the most absurd excuses. Saying you had to deliver a report to Tsunade and that her office just happened to be near my room, or that the noise in the hallways bothered you and my room was quieter…”
Shikamaru chuckled, this time genuinely.
“Did I really use those excuses?”
“Yes.” Neji looked at him, his eyes shimmering with something akin to nostalgia. “And the worst part is that I believed them.”
The Nara shrugged, his expression turning into a carefree smile.
“Not bad excuses, considering I was 13.”
“They weren’t necessary.”
Neji’s words were direct, and Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, curious.
“Oh, no?”
“No.” Neji averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Your visits were… important to me. I didn’t understand it at the time. I thought you were just there to annoy me, but now I know they… they meant a lot.”
Shikamaru observed him, his eyes studying every expression, every subtle movement.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he finally said, with a softness that surprised even him.
“No one besides you came to see me. Not even my team.”
Shikamaru tilted his head slightly, feigning indifference.
“They were busy with another mission. You knew that.”
“I know. But still…” Neji hesitated, as if unsure how to continue. Finally, he looked up, meeting Shikamaru’s gaze. “You were the only one.”
For a moment, there was something tender in his expression, something that made Shikamaru’s heart beat a little faster.
“I couldn’t leave you alone in such a boring place,” Shikamaru said, smiling with that lightness he often used to hide what he truly felt. “Besides, someone had to make sure you didn’t do something stupid, like trying to train from your hospital bed.”
Neji let out a small laugh, one that barely lasted a second but seemed to brighten the room more than any ray of sunlight.
He wanted to ask why. Why had Shikamaru gone to such lengths just to have an excuse to visit him? To talk with him, play shogi, or read books aloud like he was a child, especially since the injury had left him unable to move his arm for months.
But he didn’t want Shikamaru to answer with something like: It was my duty. I was the squad leader then and wanted to make sure you came out of it okay. I didn’t want a death on my conscience. That’s all.
Because then he’d know. He didn’t matter to him.
“Do you remember how you used to complain about the weather every time you came to the hospital?” Neji asked, trying to sound casual while his hands remained tense on the sheets.
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint curve to his lips, as if recalling something amusing.
“How could I forget?” he replied. “It was summer, and the heat in that place was unbearable.”
“You always complained, yet you kept coming,” Neji said, with a tone that tried to stay neutral but carried a clear emotional weight.
“Because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Shikamaru replied simply. Then he added, “You were terrible at shogi.”
Neji raised an eyebrow, trying to hide the faint blush on his cheeks.
“I wasn’t terrible; I just wasn’t interested.”
“Sure, sure. That’s why you tried to make illegal moves when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
Neji couldn’t help it; a short, abrupt laugh escaped his lips.
“It’s… nice to remember those things,” he murmured.
At that moment, with his guard completely down, Shikamaru suddenly leaned closer, his eyes fixed on something on Neji’s chest.
“What’s that?”
“Where?” Neji asked, confused.
“In the neck.”
Shikamaru moved a little closer, motioning with a tilt of his head. Instinctively, Neji raised his hand to the spot indicated, brushing his fingers over the sensitive skin.
“Oh,” he said, trying to stay calm. “It’s… just a scratch.”
But Shikamaru had already seen more than Neji would have liked. His gaze lingered on the marks peeking out from the edge of the hospital gown, and his frown deepened.
“That doesn’t look like a scratch. There’s more. What happened? You didn’t have those yesterday.”
Neji felt the heat rise to his face. He knew he had to think fast. He couldn’t let Shikamaru suspect anything.
“I bumped into the nightstand last night,” he said, keeping his tone neutral even as his mind raced. “It was an accident, nothing serious.”
Shikamaru didn’t look convinced.
“You bumped into the nightstand? And that left… claw marks?”
Neji cursed internally. He hadn’t considered that detail.
“I’m not sure,” he replied, averting his gaze. “Maybe I fell trying to get up. It’s not important. Or maybe I scratched myself in my sleep.”
Shikamaru crossed his arms, his expression darkening.
“Neji, did someone do this to you?”
The question caught him off guard, but he managed to keep his composure.
“No. No one did anything to me.”
The tension in the room grew heavier. Shikamaru stared at him, as if trying to unravel the truth through sheer observation. Finally, he let out a long sigh and stepped back.
“Fine, I’ll believe you. But… if I find out someone hurt you…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The weight of his words hung in the air, an unspoken promise of retaliation.
Neji watched silently as Shikamaru straightened and headed toward the door.
“See you later.”
The door closed, and silence returned to the room. Neji let out a shaky sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But the peace was fleeting.
You’re not as convincing as you think, ‘Hyuga genius.’ But wasn’t he charming? So protective. Almost as if he actually cares about you.
If only he knew what you've been doing... If he knew that little Neji has been playing adult games, you have been naughty...
“Shut up…” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.
Neji remained motionless, his face impassive. He knew he hadn’t convinced him. Shikamaru was far too perceptive to swallow such a crude lie, and yet Neji had tried to maintain his composure, to seem unshaken.
But now that he was alone, everything was falling apart.
He almost figured it out.
The tension started as a tingling at the base of his neck, a knot spreading to his shoulders and crawling down his spine. He couldn’t stay still. His hands moved restlessly to his forehead, his fingers pressing against his temples as if he could squeeze out the thoughts haunting him. What if he finds out? What if Kiba tells him?
Anxiety was a ravenous beast, tearing at him from the inside, turning his mind into a whirlwind of uncontrollable scenarios. He got up from the bed, pacing back and forth, as if the movement could release some of the energy trapped in his chest. But with every step, the pressure only grew.
He needed to calm down, and he needed it fast.
Then came the thought. Insidious, barely a whisper at first.
Shikamaru isn’t here anymore... You need to find someone else. Another man. Relieve the tension, Neji. He’ll never have to know.
Neji froze in place, his body rigid, as though the weight of those words had fallen directly onto his shoulders. The air around him seemed to grow denser, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, fighting against the strange urge now slithering through his mind. But it wasn’t just a thought. It was something more. Something alive, something writhing in the depths of his consciousness that he couldn’t suppress.
When he opened his eyes again, they weren’t the same. There was something different about them, a glint that didn’t belong to him, a spark that wasn’t his. His lips, once tight with nervousness, curved into a lazy smile, a gesture full of an inexplicable confidence that made no sense in that moment.
This is what you need, a voice whispered in his mind, one that sounded like his own but distorted.
Neji turned his head slowly toward the door, as if he could see through it. He wasn’t thinking about Shikamaru anymore. That spark the Nara had ignited with his mere presence had transformed into a flame, a need for sex he couldn’t ignore. The tension in his body didn’t disappear, but it changed nature, becoming something that pushed him forward instead of holding him back.
He stepped into the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the tiles. It didn’t take long to find someone: a nurse, busy inspecting a tray of supplies at the end of the corridor.
Neji observed him for a moment, his eyes scanning the man with unsettling precision.
When he finally approached, moving with a grace that made him seem as if he were floating, his smile widened, a gesture so unlike his usual self that it would have been enough to alert anyone who truly knew him. But the nurse didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
“Excuse me,” Neji said, his voice soft, innocent, as he tilted his head slightly. “Could you help me with something?”
The man looked up, puzzled, but before he could respond, Neji had already closed the distance between them. He didn’t need to wait any longer.
They ended up in the cleaning closet, where the next hour and a half was spent with Neji being penetrated by the young nurse. He wasn’t even half as good as Kiba, but he wasn’t bad either. The guy seemed especially interested in his chest, so now, in addition to the claw marks from the dog ninja, Neji had to deal with bite marks around his nipples.
This wasn’t Neji—not really. This was something else, someone else in the same body, driven by a need that had eclipsed any remorse or rationality. That Other part of him had taken control once again, and she wouldn’t stop until it extinguished the fire burning inside.
Notes:
Could I call this torture porn? Neji's slow descent into schizophrenia? Well, I don't know, but I hope I've left all the clues out there that all this trauma has its origins in something deeper. And I still hope that what is happening has been well stated, right? Sometimes the only survival mechanism our brain has to deal with what it doesn't understand is -fragmenting-. Fragment the memories you don't want to keep and delete them. And if Neji doesn't want to accept that it is himself who is doing all these dirty things... well, fragment, right? Do you understand? HAHAHA maybe not, but we'll get to that. I didn't want to give too much explanation in this chapter, just let Neji experience the change. Maybe not much happened here, but we got to know Neji more as a character and since the story revolves around him, I find it valuable. Oh, by the way, if you want to choose Neji's next sexual partner, I'm open to ideas. We'll see you in the next episode.
Chapter 6: The devotion
Summary:
Shino visits Neji in his final moments in the hospital, while he is fervently trying to fight with his own thoughts, both current and past. Lee and Tenten return from a mission. Kiba is confronted by Shikamaru as some lucky news reaches them. The Hyuga clan is up to something. What is Neji's role in all this?
Notes:
I probably don’t even need to warn you anymore that the chapters are long as hell. I hope you enjoy this chapter, which is practically all religious lore, politics, and backstory on various matters. I also hope you enjoy the argument scene between Shino and Neji—it took me three whole days to write that one scene. My god, they’re such complicated characters!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 6: The devotion
Now he remembered.
It was one of those golden autumn afternoons when the sky seemed painted in warm hues of orange and pink. They were sitting at the edge of a small clearing in the forest, far from the Hyūga estate, where the adults never came looking for them. Neji, with his arms crossed over his bruised knees, stared up at the massive trees surrounding them while Shino, beside him, was absorbed in something he held in his hands: a dry leaf with a small colony of ants crawling across it.
Back then, Neji was obsessed with death. He couldn’t help it. The shadow of his father still loomed over him, and every corner of his mind was plagued with questions no one wanted to answer. But Shino was different; he didn’t shy away from those topics. Instead, he spoke about them with a calmness Neji found fascinating.
Shino, with his measured tone and strange, somber air, spoke with fascination about carrion fauna, explaining how bodies decomposed after death.
“When a body dies, insects and microorganisms find it. Flies lay eggs, and their larvae start feeding on the flesh. Then other bugs join the feast… everything becomes part of something bigger,” he explained.
Neji listened intently, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
“My father didn’t have that opportunity,” he said suddenly, his voice soft. “They cremated him in the Hidden Cloud Village”
Shino turned his head toward him, surprised by the directness of the comment.
“Then there was no carrion fauna,” he murmured, as if it were a technical fact he needed to record.
Neji shook his head.
“Nope. None.”
For a moment, both remained silent, letting the cold afternoon wind fill the space between them. Then Shino spoke again, his tone more reflective:
“That’s wrong. Humans take so much from nature—trees for wood, animals for food, soil for crops. The least we could do is give something back when we’re no longer here.”
The statement was as grim as it was logical, but Shino paused when he noticed Neji staring at him.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean to make you think of your father that way.”
To his surprise, Neji laughed—a soft, short sound.
“It’s fine. Honestly, I would’ve preferred if they had buried him. Especially here, in our village.”
“The last time I talked about this with someone, it was a girl at the academy. She started crying,” Shino said, still focused on the leaf with the ants.
Neji tilted his head, a small smile crossing his face.
“That’s normal. People don’t like thinking about these things. Death, decay… they don’t like to be reminded that it’s what makes us human. But you should be more careful and tactful when talking about death with others.”
The Aburame nodded, as if he had been given valuable advice.
“Alright. I’ll listen to you. You, Chitose, and Torune always know what to tell me. I trust you to teach me how to act.”
Neji glanced at him from the corner of his eye, a warmth in his gaze that he rarely showed.
“You’re very strange, you know? But I think that’s exactly what I like about you. You’re strange, you know so many weird things, you speak in weird ways, you react in weird ways… It’s like you were sent here just to make me feel better.”
Shino blinked behind his glasses, but the glow on his face was unmistakable. Neji had spoken those words with such sincerity that an unfamiliar warmth settled in his chest.
“Make you feel better… Yes, that’s what I always want to do.”
Neji lowered his head, unwilling to respond to that.
At some point, Shino noticed the marks on Neji’s arms—large bruises that seemed too recent, too obvious. But he said nothing.
“I think carrion fauna is fascinating,” the Hyūga said suddenly when he felt Shino staring at him for too long. His tone was casual, but his words carried sincerity.
Shino turned his head toward him, his glasses reflecting the last light of the sun.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Neji played with a strand of his hair between his fingers. “It’s amazing how they can transform something as sad as death into life. It’s like… magic.”
Shino nodded slowly, his expression serious but his lips curving slightly, as if that statement had brought him a strange happiness.
“It is,” he replied. Then, after a few seconds of silence, he added, “Do you have a favorite insect?”
Neji thought for a moment, his mind wandering to the sky, where a few birds still soared before nightfall.
“I’m not sure I can pick one. I like all the ones that fly. Butterflies, dragonflies, fireflies… even wasps. There’s something about them, the way they move so freely.”
Shino nodded again, this time more firmly.
“That makes sense.”
Neji chuckled softly.
“Why?”
“Because you want to be free, too.”
Neji’s laughter faded, replaced by a heavy but not uncomfortable silence. Shino always managed to say something that left him thinking, that sank deep into his being like an undeniable truth.
Standing now, Shino raised a hand and murmured something to his insects, words Neji didn’t understand. The Hyūga frowned, confused, but before he could ask, something happened that left him breathless.
From among the trees, butterflies began to appear, their wings glowing in the last rays of the sun. Emerald green beetles flew alongside them, filling the air with soft buzzing. And as the twilight deepened, a group of fireflies lit up the space between them with their soft, flickering light.
The space above them filled more and more with flying insects.
“I just learned how to communicate with lepidopterans,” Shino commented.
“Shino…?” Neji whispered, his eyes wide as he watched the spectacle before him.
Shino didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, he tensed, thinking Neji would be scared and leave. But his rigid posture relaxed slightly when he saw the look of wonder on Neji’s face.
“Did you do this for me?” Neji finally asked, his voice trembling.
“Yes,” Shino nodded.
Neji felt a lump form in his throat, but this time it wasn’t sadness that overwhelmed him. It was something warmer, something that made his chest feel lighter.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Shino lowered his gaze for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what he had just done. Then, with his usual seriousness, he murmured,
“When we’re older, I’m going to marry you.”
Neji looked at him, surprised, but he couldn’t help smiling. There was something so pure and direct about his words that it was impossible to take them the wrong way.
“Oh, really?” he said, his tone teasing but without malice.
Shino nodded firmly.
“Yes. I’ll make sure you’re happy every day. Whatever is in my power to do, I’ll do it.”
The older boy laughed and gave him a friendly shove, enough to make him stumble slightly.
“You’re weird, you know that?”
“Yes.” Shino’s response was immediate, as if it didn’t bother him at all.
Before he could say anything else, Neji leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. It was an innocent gesture, but one so warm that it left Shino completely frozen.
“Thank you for being my friend, Shino Aburame,” Neji said, almost in a whisper.
Shino, still stunned, extended his hand toward Neji. When Neji took it, Shino gripped it with a protective firmness, as if that simple gesture could convey everything he didn’t know how to say.
They stood there, amidst the dancing lights of the fireflies, feeling that, at least in that moment, the world was a little more bearable because they were together.
Now he remembered. The silent devotion of that strange boy for him. How had he forgotten something so important?
Why do you try so hard to erase these memories, Neji?
----
Neji was seated in what he presumed was Shizune’s office, although her name didn’t appear anywhere.
On the adjoining door hung a plaque that read Sakura Haruno, but in the three days he’d spent in the hospital, he hadn’t seen even a trace of the legendary kunoichi. Perhaps being one of the Three Great Heroes of the village came with responsibilities too grand to allow her to return to her not-so-heroic former duties.
After the Fourth Shinobi War, many names had been etched in stone and immortalized in songs. Entire clans were celebrated, families proud of their fallen members. Epithets became famous alongside the names of the shinobi who bore them: The Knot Weaver, The Guardian of a Thousand Eyes, The Heroes of the Shinobi World, The Mind Breaker, The Green Lightning, The Hyūga Lioness. The war had been long and cruel, devouring months and lives alike, but it had ended thanks to the combined efforts of all, crowned by the final feats of Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura, who had faced and defeated Madara and Obito Uchiha. It was a triumph that marked the end of conflict and the beginning of a new world... for some.
Neji had fought too. Of course, no songs or praises remembered them, but there he was, along with his clan, assigned to a division made up exclusively of secondary branch members. High-risk missions no one else would accept voluntarily, where casualties didn’t matter because no one cared who died. They infiltrated enemy lines, distracted the foe, contained threats until they were devoured by them.
They were Division 444, an already ill-fated name, better known among the Hyūga as the Suicide Division—a name the main branch repeated almost mockingly.
His team, small, interchangeable, but relentless, had been vital in buying time and gathering the information that eventually led to victory. But it was the Hyūga of the main branch who received the applause. The secondary branch, with their broken and worn-out bodies, simply fulfilled the duty they had been born for. And no one applauds a dagger for stabbing into an enemy’s chest; the blade is wiped clean and stored away until it’s needed again.
Neji should have died too on one of those suicide missions, like so many others from his clan who never returned. Not for lack of skill, of course, but because the odds were stacked against them by design. He had been trained to accept that reality, to face it with his head held high and without a shred of doubt.
But Neji survived. Thanks to Shikamaru.
Of course, those were the grand circumstances of war. However, for a Hyūga from the secondary branch, there was no difference between the extraordinary and the trivial. He was expected to serve in every situation, no matter how insignificant or humiliating it seemed.
And tonight, the clan meeting would be a perfect demonstration of that reality. They didn’t need him there. His presence wouldn’t change anything, but he had to attend. Because the rules said so.
Shizune worked with methodical efficiency, extracting just under half a liter of blood from his arm for laboratory tests. The needle barely hurt, but the sensation of blood leaving his body reminded Neji that something inside him was tainted. Tsunade had explained earlier that without her purifying jutsu, the effects of the toxin would likely have been immediate, taking over in just a day or two.
He had thanked her appropriately, bowing halfway, which Tsunade dismissed as unnecessary. But Neji knew her words were nothing more than courtesy. What she didn’t know, what no one knew, was how he had interpreted her warning.
If the toxin had progressed unchecked, if Tsunade’s intervention hadn’t slowed its advance, Neji would now be completely lost—a shameless whore, a slave to his most base and repulsive desires.
At least in this intermediate state, somewhere between his normal self and the toxin’s impulses, he could still feel regret. He could look back in disgust, hate what he had done, and punish himself for it. There was a twisted solace in that penitence, in the act of flogging his own conscience.
He would never admit it, but he was eager to return to Nevernight, the Hyūga estate, especially to the Great Temple. Of course, he didn’t expect forgiveness; the gods didn’t offer indulgences to people like him. But maybe—just maybe—he would find fleeting solace in seeking their protection.
“All done. You can go now,” Shizune said, breaking the thread of his thoughts as she withdrew the needle with precision. “A nurse will bring your things shortly so you can get changed.”
She turned away, jotting something down on a clipboard.
Neji inclined his head in thanks, but before he could respond, the door to the room creaked open. He looked up, and there stood Shino Aburame. His rigid posture, his serene bearing. He wasn’t wearing his hooded jacket, which made him look different, almost like another person. Despite the dark glasses, Neji could see the shadows on his skin, the exhaustion hanging from his shoulders.
“Shino, what are you doing here?”
The Aburame walked toward him, his steps measured.
“I wanted to check if you were fine” he replied.
The declaration, so simple and direct, made Neji avert his gaze, evaluating the situation for a moment and recalling Kiba’s words from the night before.
“Shino is in love with you.”
Don’t you feel flattered, Neji? Responsible? What are you going to do about it? Nothing, I suppose.
Neji swallowed hard, ignoring his thoughts. A memory flashed through his mind like lightning: his eight-year-old self, his voice trembling as he told the boy he once called his best friend to leave, that he didn’t want to see him again. That their friendship was pointless. Everything had been simpler before the clan got in the way.
It was for the best, he told himself, but the thought was hollow, lacking conviction.
“Well, you see me now,” he said, summoning the coldest tone he could muster. “I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I was just about to leave. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”
The Aburame tilted his head slightly, evaluating him with those analytical gestures that always made him so nervous. It was something he had also felt with Shikamaru hours earlier. What was it with everyone wanting to know how he was? I’m not fine. I’m never be. Leave me alone.
“I apologize for not visiting you earlier,” Shino said at last, bowing slightly. “I’ve been focused on solving the enigma of what happened to you to find the right solution as quickly as possible. But Ino told me that efficiency isn’t the only way to show concern, and she suggested I visit before you were discharged. She also told me to bring you this.”
The master of insects pulled a crystal orb from his pocket, small enough to fit in his palm, containing three purple petunias inside.
"Oh, they're beautiful!" exclaimed Shizune, startling Neji. He had almost forgotten she was there.
"Thank you," he murmured, taking the gift. His gaze slid back to Shino. The grayish skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint hum of his insects—everything about him indicated he hadn’t rested. "But it wasn’t necessary. You don’t need to come all the way here or exhaust yourself so much. Go home. Take other missions. I’m sure your skills would be better used elsewhere."
Forget about me, he wanted to say.
The younger man shook his head.
"You say that because you don’t understand the extent of the risk, Neji," said Shino simply, as though Neji were foolish. "I’ve been fully informed about the condition of your body. It is imperative that we continue until a cure is found."
The mention of his condition made Neji blush. He disliked the idea of too many people knowing, but Shino had witnessed it and was still part of the investigative team—of course, he had to know.
"You’re doing this because you’re a dedicated shinobi. It’s admirable," Neji replied, trying to rationalize the situation.
Shino shook his head without hesitation.
"I’m doing this for you."
Neji clenched his fists.
"That’s very sweet," Shizune commented absentmindedly as she labeled the vials of Neji’s blood.
How dare you feel uncomfortable because he has feelings for you?
"And what have you discovered?"
"Several relevant points." Shino tilted his head slightly, as if mentally reviewing his notes. "Shikamaru believes you were targeted specifically for a reason. I found records that could support his theory: the Kimushimaru and the Hyūga have a history of conflict. The most recent one occurred fourteen years ago, during the War of the Lost Islands."
Neji frowned, a sharp sensation stirring at the back of his mind.
"I remember hearing about that. It was a year before Hiashi took… control of me."
The word slipped out before he could stop it, and Shino noticed, though he said nothing.
"Your clan led the operations in that conflict. Your uncle and your father killed the leader of the Kimushimaru. According to the records, the body was never recovered—a detail that seems to have been conveniently omitted from official accounts."
Neji placed the orb on the table.
"And how does that matter now?"
"I’ve also discovered that the women of their clan are scarce," Shino continued. "We know their experiments with the toxin are related to this, and it’s likely they’ll return to observe the results. In other words, they may come for you. There may be a hidden motive, or it could be part of a broader vengeance against the Hyūga clan. After all, they attacked you at your blind spot—it’s obvious they know how to counter a Byakugan."
Shino knew about the blind spot because Neji, in his naivety, had told him about it when they were children. Furthermore, as Hinata’s teammate, Shino must have been aware of her weaknesses as well.
Neji wasn’t surprised that Shino remembered that information, but he was startled by how he had correlated it with the attack.
Thank him properly. Don’t be ungrateful. Let me kiss him… touch him… Just one kiss. What harm could it do? It will make him happy. You’ll make him happy.
"That’s absurd," Neji said, more to himself than to Shino. "My father has been dead for years, so it’s Hiashi’s problem. I have nothing to do with the clan’s conflicts."
"That’s what you think," Shino replied. "But you can’t ignore the context. The Kimushimaru experiment on humans. They’ve decimated their own female population for reasons I don’t fully understand. They’re a ruined clan. They’re desperate. And you…"
Neji looked up, seeing his own reflection in Shino’s glasses.
"Me?"
"You’re a Hyūga. A prodigy considered a genius, disciplined, and strong. You’ve been drawing attention since the Chūnin Exams. But you’re also… manageable."
Neji’s breath caught for a second, and his hand instinctively moved to his forehead.
"Don’t overestimate yourself," Shino continued, ignoring—or choosing to ignore—Neji’s discomfort. "I’m not saying you were their target because they see you as a threat. I’m saying they see you as a means, an opportunity. They’ve developed a toxin to turn men into women because they lack women to continue their bloodline. Can you imagine what comes next?"
Of course, he knew what it meant, but it wasn’t something he wanted to say aloud.
"So I should stay in the village?" Neji asked, trying to regain some control over the conversation, though the heat in his neck and the pressure in his chest betrayed him.
"Yes."
Shino’s assertion left no room for discussion.
“It is not wise to expose yourself, not when they might return. I theorize that their interest does not lie in just any Hyūga. If that were the case, they could have simply abducted a secondary branch Hyūga girl, but instead, they targeted you. Once we capture one of them, we will confirm whether Shikamaru and I are correct.”
Neji clenched his jaw, wanting to divert the conversation, but Shino was relentless.
“The Hokage is aware,” Shino added. “And ANBU has reported no signs of them for now. But I am not convinced.”
Neji wanted to protest, to say something.
Of course he’s not convinced. Nothing will satisfy him until he locks you in a box and seals it shut.
“I will keep that in mind,” he finally said, his voice firm but subdued.
“I hope you do,” Shino replied. Then he added something that sent a chill down Neji’s spine: “Because I will not stop until I am certain that no one ever touches you like they did. No matter what it takes.”
Neji did not respond. He couldn’t.
That need to protect you, to care for you… You could use it. Play with it a little. Come on, Neji, just a touch. Just one. What harm could it do? It would make him happy. You would make him happy.
By the Gods and the Thousand Abysses, shut up. Don’t you dare mock him like that.
“Do you remember… when we were friends?”
The question fell like a stone thrown against glass, shattering the atmosphere and pulling Neji’s thoughts elsewhere. He pressed his lips together and glanced briefly at Shizune, but she was preoccupied, transcribing something at her desk on the other side of the room.
“Yes, I remember.”
Shino stepped closer, his hands buried in his pockets.
“Why did you end our friendship?” he asked, his calm tone bordering on glacial.
Neji closed his eyes for a moment, as though searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.
“It was an order. You know that.”
“An order,” Shino repeated, as if tasting the words. His jaw tightened, and his voice grew more intense. “Then it wasn’t your will.”
“No, but I accepted it,” Neji replied without hesitation. “It was the right thing for someone like me.”
Shino took another step closer, narrowing the distance between them.
“Do you believe that?” he asked, leaning slightly toward him. “That ending our friendship was the best choice for both of us?”
Neji remained outwardly composed, but inside, a storm raged.
Don’t worry. I can handle it. Just… let me take control for a moment. I’ll make him feel so good he won’t even notice you’re trembling inside.
“What I believed back then doesn’t matter,” he said.
“And now?” Shino interrupted, his tone charged with an intensity he rarely showed. “Do you believe I shouldn’t involve myself with you now? Is that what you want?”
Neji met his gaze.
“Yes, Shino. I don’t want you to get too involved with me.”
“I can’t do that.”
Neji was startled by the firmness in his response.
“I know you don’t know me as well as you once did, so I see no reason to obey you,” Shino said.
Neji blinked, taken aback—not so much by the words themselves, but by how they seemed to echo a distant memory. From a time when they were children, when he had taught Shino how to choose his words carefully, to avoid unintentionally hurting others.
“What are you saying?” Neji asked, his tone low and restrained.
“Exactly what you heard.” Shino held his gaze, stubborn. “I’m not going to leave.”
“Thank you for your concern. Truly,” Neji finally said, his tone attempting to close the conversation. “But it’s unnecessary.”
Shino studied him for a few seconds, as though considering saying more, but eventually, he stepped back.
“It is necessary, whether you accept it or not.”
That strange boy who fascinated you so much still cares for you. Perhaps even more than Shikamaru ever could.
The name Shikamaru felt like a blow to the chest. Neji’s eyes widened, his gaze dropping to his hands in his lap.
“Don’t compare them,” he said softly.
“Pardon?”
He sighed. “I didn’t say anything.”
“NEJI!”
The door burst open with a loud crash, and a whirlwind of energy in the form of Tenten and Rock Lee stormed into the room. Before he could even raise a hand to stop them, both launched themselves at him, wrapping him in an embrace so enthusiastic it could have been mistaken for an attack.
“We missed you so much!” Tenten exclaimed, squeezing him with disproportionate strength.
“So much!” Lee echoed, nearly in tears. “My heart burned with fire during every battle, but I couldn’t stop thinking about your well-being, dear brother!”
“And now my neck is starting to burn,” Neji grumbled, trapped between the two. “Please, tone down the enthusiasm… and your arms.”
“Never!” Lee shouted, tightening the embrace even more. “How could I let you go after everything you’ve been through? It’s unforgivable that I wasn’t here! Unforgivable, I say!”
“They sent us on that mission right after you were admitted!” Tenten added, still holding onto him. “Lee told me what happened to you. Do you know how hard it was for me to focus while he gave motivational speeches about you in the middle of the forest?”
“It was important that you knew my spirit was with you!” Lee retorted, offended. “And besides, our enemies deserved to know the greatness of my best friend!”
“I’m sure they appreciated it…” Neji muttered, trying and failing to free himself.
Shino, who had remained standing on the sidelines, observed the scene in silence, his glasses concealing any reaction.
"Really, I’m fine," Neji insisted, his patience stretched to its limit. "Now, please, let me breathe."
Tenten was the first to relent, releasing him with a soft laugh.
"Sorry, Neji. But honestly, for someone who was at death’s door, you look pretty alive!"
Neji wasn’t entirely sure what Lee had told their teammate, but he trusted that he hadn’t mentioned anything as humiliating as his progressive transformation into a woman.
"Really?" Lee asked, leaning in to examine him like an improvised physician. "Yes, I can see it! Your youthful aura is shining brightly!"
"I think it’s just the reflection of the hospital lights," Neji muttered, massaging his shoulders where they had squeezed too hard.
"It doesn’t matter!" proclaimed Lee, raising a fist into the air. "Tonight, we shall celebrate that our dear friend is well!"
"Celebrate?" Neji repeated incredulously. "You’ve just arrived, and you’re already planning something."
"What can I say?" Tenten replied, crossing her arms with a smile. "It’s our way of making up for leaving you alone."
"I swear I will never leave your side again while you are in trouble, Neji!"
Neji sighed, half resigned and half amused.
"There will be no celebration! Tenten, can you get him out of here before he makes another lifelong vow?"
"I can’t promise anything," Tenten replied, laughing as she dragged Lee toward the door, though he protested with declarations about his "eternal commitment" and his "brother of the soul."
"Do they always treat you like this?" asked the Aburame in a neutral tone.
"What do you think?" Neji replied, letting his shoulders drop in relief.
"It must be nice for them. No one ever told them that keeping you close was a mistake."
The Hyūga froze.
"No..." he began, but his voice trailed off.
Shino didn’t wait for an answer. He took a step toward the door, his posture as firm as ever, though there was a stiffness in his movements that betrayed his unease.
Lee and Tenten also bid their farewells, mentioning they had to deliver their report to Tsunade and loudly announcing that they would return later to celebrate. But just before leaving, Lee, uncharacteristically nervous and lacking his usual energetic demeanor, hesitated for a moment.
"By the way, Neji..." he said, almost stammering. "You... You look very beautiful."
Neji tensed. The comment was so strange coming from Lee that his brain took a moment to process it. But what truly unsettled him was Shino’s reaction.
The Aburame turned his head slightly toward Lee, and though his dark glasses concealed his eyes, the frown that appeared on his face was enough to cut through the air.
"Unnecessary," he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, but loud enough for Neji to hear. Without waiting for a reply, he left the room, his insects buzzing louder than usual.
----
Kiba leaned against the cold fence of the Forest of Death, though not by conscious choice. It was the only place he knew no one would bother him—not even Akamaru. Since last night, his dog had been avoiding him, sniffing at him with a look of almost accusatory confusion, as if urging Kiba to confess. But how could he confess when he didn’t even know what the fuck he’d done?
His mind was a mess. There were fragments, memories that didn’t quite fit together, like pieces of a broken puzzle. Neji—his lips, his bare body, his skin... his A-cup boobs. Each image hit him like a slap, a sharp reminder that something had happened, something Kiba didn’t want to accept. It had to be a genjutsu. Of course it was. There was no way in the fucking Thousand Abysses that he, Kiba Inuzuka, had done that willingly.
Right?
He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly, as if the physical pain might cut through the fog in his mind. But it didn’t. The only thing clear was the crushing weight of guilt, the regret that made him want to sink into the ground and disappear. If only he could remember…
“Damn it!” he muttered through gritted teeth, slamming his fist against the fence.
Because if he had done it, if he really had… been with Neji, then what did that mean? That he was a monster? That he’d betrayed someone who, even if he couldn’t stand, didn’t deserve this?
And then there was Shino.
By the fucking Lunar Gods.
Shino.
How could he ever look him in the eye again? Shino, who had been obsessed with Neji for as long as Kiba could remember, even if he never outright admitted it. Shino, his best friend—the one who always listened, even when Kiba didn’t make sense. How could he tell him?
Hey, man, remember the guy you like? Yeah, well… I did something terrible with him. Or to him. I’m not exactly sure what I did, but I’m pretty sure I ruined everything.
The air felt heavier, harder to breathe. Kiba closed his eyes tightly, as if that could erase the images forming in his mind. Was that the worst part? Shino finding out? Or was it the thought that Neji… that Neji might actually be his victim?
“No, no, no…” he murmured, shaking his head.
The word rapist drilled into his brain, piercing through any excuse, any attempt to justify the unjustifiable. Had it been him? Had he been conscious? Or was there something else, something he couldn’t remember? But if it had been him, if he had done something so vile, then he deserved every punishment that came his way.
He couldn’t face Shino, or Neji, or even his mother when she got back—or Akamaru.
Kiba took a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling in his hands. He failed. Because no matter how many questions he asked himself, no matter how many possibilities he explored, he always ended up in the same place.
He couldn’t remember what he had done, but he knew it was unforgivable.
His breathing was unsteady, his mind racing in circles around the same tormenting questions that had plagued him all night. He’d punched the fence so many times that his knuckles were starting to hurt, but he couldn’t stop. Because if he stopped, he’d have to confront the chaos in his head. And he wasn’t ready for that.
The smell of cigarette smoke reached him suddenly, cutting through his spiral of thoughts like a slap.
“You alright?”
Kiba nearly jumped at the sound of Shikamaru’s voice. The Nara stood a few meters behind him, a cigarette dangling from his lips and that damn neutral expression that made it seem like he knew exactly what was going on.
“Damn it, Nara!” Kiba spun around quickly, trying to compose himself. “Do you always have to show up like a fucking ghost?”
Shikamaru took a drag from his cigarette before replying, his tone so casual it made Kiba’s nerves tighten even more.
“Not my fault you’re so distracted.” Shikamaru stepped forward, flicking ash to the ground. “Though I suppose there are reasons for that, aren’t there?”
“Reasons?” Kiba tried to sound casual, leaning an arm against the fence like nothing was wrong. “What are you talking about?”
Shikamaru stared at him for a long moment, letting the silence stretch just enough to make him uncomfortable. Then, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with his foot.
“Where were you last night?” he asked, his tone light, almost curious—though Kiba knew it was anything but.
Kiba felt anger and fear rising in his chest.
“And since when do you care about my schedule?” he snapped defensively.
“It matters,” Shikamaru said calmly. “Because Sakura told me you skipped your session. Naruto’s been looking for you all morning. And Shino… well, he doesn’t even know where you are because the message you left him was so poorly written it’s barely legible.”
Kiba gritted his teeth.
“Well, next time you’re looking for me, I’d appreciate it if you left my psychologist out of it, Knot Weaver. What are you, my damn babysitter now?”
“No.” Shikamaru shrugged, his tone still relaxed, though his gaze was sharp as a blade. “But when someone like you starts avoiding everyone, it makes me think. And when I visit a friend in the hospital and see claw marks on his body, it makes me think even more.”
Kiba’s heart nearly stopped. He felt the air leave his lungs, and his mouth opened to respond, but no words came out.
Shikamaru stepped closer, his posture relaxed yet imposing, as though he held absolute control over the conversation.
“Tell me, Kiba,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper, but sharp enough to cut. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Kiba snapped, his voice too loud, too defensive.
“Nothing?” Shikamaru repeated, tilting his head with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Because it doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you’re hiding.”
Kiba felt as if his skin were burning under Shikamaru’s gaze. Every movement, every word, felt like it was being dissected and analyzed.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Kiba growled, trying to sound confident.
“You don’t, huh?” Shikamaru began to circle him slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “Funny, though. The marks on Neji’s body just happen to match the claws of someone. And you, Kiba—you’re the only one with a dog who seems to be avoiding his own master.”
Akamaru, sitting a few meters away, let out a low bark, almost as if confirming Shikamaru’s words.
“I don’t know anything about that!” Kiba shouted, turning to Akamaru as if expecting his companion to defend him. But the dog stayed still, watching him with a gaze that made him feel even guiltier.
Shikamaru stopped in front of him, crossing his arms.
“Kiba,” he said softly, his voice nearly a whisper. “If there’s something you want to confess, now would be a good time.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Kiba snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ever since Neji ended up in the hospital, you two treat him like he’s your damn boyfriend!”
Shikamaru froze at those words, and for a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath. Kiba had been throwing that little jab around before, but this was definitely not the time for it.
Shikamaru turned to face him slowly, his neutral expression melting away to reveal a sharp, dangerous glare.
“What did you say?” Shikamaru’s tone was so low and controlled that it was more menacing than a shout.
Kiba, already regretting opening his mouth, tried to recover, but his nerves betrayed him.
“I said…” he faltered, glancing at Akamaru as if looking for support, but the dog simply stared at him, unmoving. “Forget it. I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? It was a stupid comment.”
“No, let’s not forget it.” Shikamaru stepped closer, closing the distance with a chilling calm. “Repeat what you just said.”
Kiba felt his muscles tense, and his palms began to sweat.
“Look, I was just talking nonsense, okay? I don’t even mean it!” he tried to explain, raising his hands defensively. “It’s just… everything’s about him lately. Yesterday, you were fighting over him like he was a trophy, like you were competing.”
Shikamaru’s jaw tightened, and though his posture remained casual, the air around him felt like it was on the verge of exploding.
“Competing?” he repeated, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kiba, don’t confuse concern for something else. We’re talking about a group of deranged fanatics—people who could have killed him and already have killed civilians. And here you are, saying… this?”
Kiba swallowed hard, knowing he had crossed a line he shouldn’t have.
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, but his mind was a whirlwind. “Damn it, Nara, I’m a mess, okay?”
“That’s obvious,” Shikamaru said, his tone colder than ever.
Kiba clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up alongside his guilt.
“Yeah, I’m a damn mess!” he shouted, looking Shikamaru in the eyes for the first time. “Because something happened, and I can’t remember! I don’t know what the fuck I did, but I know it was wrong!”
Shikamaru didn’t respond immediately. He simply observed Kiba—every word, every gesture, every breath—like he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind. Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if dealing with a particularly troublesome child.
“Kiba… what do you think you did?” he asked.
Kiba lowered his gaze, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt.
“I don’t know… But if I did something horrible, something that hurt Neji… then I’m a damn monster.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Akamaru stayed perfectly still, as if he understood the gravity of the moment.
Shikamaru stepped closer, his voice now a cold whisper.
“Then you’d better figure it out,” he said, his tone icy and laced with menace. “Because if it turns out you did something you shouldn’t have… it won’t just be Shino coming for you.”
Kiba felt his throat tighten, the weight of the threat pressing down on him like a heavy stone. Before he could respond, a shadowy arm rose behind Shikamaru, rippling in the air like a predator ready to strike. The shape was unmistakable—a manifestation of his jutsu, a silent reminder that Shikamaru didn’t just talk; he was more than capable of acting on his words.
The shadow didn’t move, but its presence alone made Kiba take a step back. Memories he had tried to bury surfaced in his mind: the Fourth Shinobi War, the moment he had seen Shikamaru kill an enemy soldier who had fallen to his knees, begging for his life. The man had struck Ino, leaving her unconscious, and Shikamaru, without hesitation, had strangled him with his shadows before he could utter another word.
And then there was another memory. An ambush. Two dozen enemy shinobi trapped in a web of shadows Shikamaru had carefully set up in minutes. There had been no screams, no chaos—just silence and an oppressive darkness that consumed everything.
A Leaf ninja wouldn’t do that—not to a comrade. Kiba tried to convince himself, but doubt gnawed at his thoughts.
The tense atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by the soft sound of a small yellow toad appearing on Shikamaru’s shoulder. It shook itself slightly before extending its tongue. Resting on the pink, sticky surface was a note, completely out of place in the charged confrontation.
Shikamaru took the note without a word, reading it silently as his eyes narrowed. Once he finished, he crushed it in his fist and disintegrated it with a flick of chakra.
“Sasuke and Kakashi are here,” he announced in his usual tone, as if nothing that had just happened mattered. “They brought a gift.”
Kiba raised an eyebrow, struggling to maintain his composure.
“A gift?”
“Two Kimushimaru prisoners and a few corpses,” Shikamaru replied, turning his head toward the toad. “Call Naruto.”
The small amphibian let out a croak of acknowledgment before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Barely a few seconds later, Naruto appeared in a flash, tugging at his pants with a bewildered expression.
“Damn it, Shikamaru! I was in the bathroom!” he growled, finishing buttoning up his pants as he glanced around. “Where the shit are we?”
His eyes landed on Kiba, and his expression immediately shifted.
“You!” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at the Inuzuka. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“Let it go, Naruto.” Shikamaru raised a hand, calm but cutting. “This isn’t the time.”
Naruto glared at him, crossing his arms with a frustrated pout.
“But he—!”
“I said let it go.” Shikamaru’s gaze sharpened, and Naruto, reluctantly, shut his mouth.
Kiba, who had remained silent during the brief exchange, finally spoke, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
“I’m going to need Ino to dig into my head… maybe Sakura, too.” His eyes dropped to the ground, unable to meet either of their gazes. “But whatever they find… it has to stay secret.”
Shikamaru let out a short snort, as if the request was almost ironic to him.
“When I know what it is, I’ll decide whether it stays secret or not.”
The yellow toad returned just then, letting out a soft croak before vanishing again in another cloud of smoke.
Shikamaru turned on his heel, heading toward the village without a glance back.
“Let’s go. We need to interrogate the prisoners and start tying up loose ends.” He paused briefly, casting one final look at Kiba. “After that, I’ll deal with you.”
Naruto, now confused but too irritated to question it, simply followed Shikamaru, muttering under his breath,
“Lately, he’s in such a bad mood, even he can’t stand himself.”
Kiba remained where he was, feeling as though every word, every look, wrapped around him like a trap with no escape. Akamaru let out a soft whine by his side, and Kiba crouched down to run a hand along the dog’s back, seeking some form of comfort. But there was no comfort for someone who couldn’t remember whether or not he was a monster.
-----
After Rock Lee and Tenten returned to fetch him, Neji barely managed to free himself from them. Though his face remained serene, the tension in his shoulders was evident. The company of his team had always been a blessing after the death of Gai-sensei; his loss had forged them together like steel tempered by fire, an unbreakable bond sealed by his legacy. Yet this time, Lee’s closeness unsettled him in a way he didn’t know how to handle. The guilt he saw in his friend’s eyes, as if he had abandoned him by not visiting him in the hospital, only heightened the weight of those intrusive thoughts that refused to leave him.
With Shikamaru, even with Shino, those desires had some semblance of logic—they were attractive, appealing, and Neji couldn’t help but feel a certain inclination toward them. But Kiba, who hated him, whose very presence was an irritation? Lee, his brother-in-arms, his chosen family?
The mere thought made him nauseous.
He could not accept that something so filthy and alien had tainted him in such a way, especially not when Lee’s arms surrounded him with such pure affection, such devotion that deserved someone better than him.
As he walked toward Nevernight, he ran a hand over his face, trying to erase the traces of his disgust before anyone could notice. Would he ever be able to relate to someone again without those intrusive fantasies getting in the way, without them corrupting everything?
Why do you even bother fighting, Neji? You’ve always been so rigid, so pure. But you’re not anymore. And they’ll know. They’ll know soon enough.
He shook his head, as if he could dispel the voice and the images that accompanied it. But the sensation lingered.
The Hyūga estate loomed before Neji as he passed under the white stone paifang that bore its name carved in bold characters, painted with a gleaming enamel as pristine as the place itself. Nevernight, built over what had once been a swamp, was now a display of opulence that seamlessly blended nature and architecture. Pavilions with curved white and violet roofs stood beside ponds reflecting the sunlight, the water murmuring softly as it flowed through meticulously maintained gardens. Beyond them, the Great Lunar Temple of the family rose like a silent guardian, its imposing gray torii gates visible even from the entrance—a constant reminder that this place was not merely a residence but a monument to the pride of the main branch.
Since childhood, Neji had known every corner of this estate, though he had never lived in it. He made his way directly to the Temple, encountering only a few other Hyūga—servants like himself—who barely acknowledged his presence.
The white wooden towers and dark roofs glowed under the pale light of the crescent moon, a sight that had always filled Neji with a contradictory sense of reverence and fear. The place was consecrated to the lunar gods, the Otsutsuki—beings whose mythical history intertwined with the very roots of the Hyūga clan. From a young age, he had been taught that the Otsutsuki had not only granted them their bloodline but had also dictated the rules they must follow: purity of body, absolute devotion, unquestioning righteousness.
Neji approached the altar with stiff steps, as though the mere presence of the gods judged him at every moment. The twelve statues of the Otsutsuki stood tall and imposing, their features idealized and inhuman, making them appear as superior and fearsome entities. Their white eyes, carved from milky jade, seemed to pierce through him. He did not seek mercy in them; he knew he was unworthy of their gaze. Not after what he had done.
He knelt on the tatami, pressing his forehead firmly to the ground. His hands trembled, but he did not allow himself to lift his head.
“Gods of the Moon, fathers of our blood, forgive me”, he whispered. “I have fallen into the sin of the flesh, into the weakness of my thoughts. My body has been taken and used, but my spirit remains yours. Help me purify myself, to erase the stain I carry within me.”
The scent of incense filled his lungs, heavy and suffocating, as if guilt itself had materialized in the air. Within his mind, the whispers grew louder, more insistent.
Repent if you must, but don’t lie to yourself, Neji. You weren’t taken—not completely. There were parts of you that surrendered, that enjoyed it. Accept that.
Neji clenched his teeth. Gods, help me silence these impurities, he prayed fervently, cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck.
For the next hour, he recited the Getsushidō, the sacred dogma of his faith, from memory. His knees began to ache, and his body grew numb from the penitential posture, a physical manifestation of both his plea for forgiveness and his act of devotion.
When he finally lifted his head, he felt a mixture of relief and emptiness. The altar remained unmoved, impassive. His heart raced, his mind was clouded, but his resolve remained firm. Rising with mechanical movements, he made his way to the private baths.
Under the steaming water, Neji scrubbed his skin with obsessive meticulousness. Every inch, every fold of his body was scrubbed until it turned red. I will be pure again; he told himself over and over. I will be worthy to walk beneath the moon. But he knew it wasn’t true. He knew the gods wouldn’t answer. Not soon.
When he entered the main pavilion for the gathering, the contrast between the temple’s darkness and chill and the warmth of the hall struck him immediately. The walls were adorned with painted screens depicting past battles of the Hyūga, and the polished wooden floors reflected the soft glow of the lamps. The members of the main branch were already seated in places of honor, their silk garments impeccably tailored, their controlled murmurs filling the air with a pretense of cordiality.
Neji moved with practiced precision, carrying a tea tray with calculated, silent movements. As he served the members of the main branch, he used each slight bow to observe them discreetly.
Lady Haruka, the wrinkled leader of the Council, occupied a central seat, her hands clasped in her lap, her eagle-like gaze fixed on anyone who dared stray from protocol. Neji remembered all too well how, in his childhood, she had made him carry wood under the rain while reciting the Precepts of the Secondary Branch as if they were sacred hymns.
Further back in the hall, Lord Sogen, the General of the clan’s forces, was speaking in hushed tones with Lord Heiji, a man whose mere presence always made Neji grit his teeth. Heiji was the one who, when Neji was a child, had suggested that Hiashi impose harsher punishments to ensure he did not “stray.” More than once, he had openly remarked, with barely concealed disdain, that expulsion from the clan would be an effective solution.
Then Neji’s eyes moved to the center of the room.
Hiashi Hyūga, the patriarch, sat in the seat of highest honor. His posture was impeccable, his expression stoic. Beside him sat Hinata, her usual air of insecurity mingled with a serene determination that seemed new. Their return from a diplomatic mission had filled the hall with a tense atmosphere, as though something significant was about to be revealed.
But the silence was broken by a voice that rang out like a crow’s caw among hawks.
“Is this the best we have to drink? Fifth-rate liquor? Or are you punishing me for some sin I’ve forgotten to commit?”
Neji looked up, and there he was: Lord Hirokazu Hyūga, his great-uncle, entering with slow but firm steps, leaning on his cane. His loose robe barely concealed his portly figure, but his eyes shone with the cunning of a predator.
“Aoi, boy, bring me cushions. Haruka, dear, every time I see you, you’re closer to the grave. And you, Hiroshi, stop grinning like an idiot—I’m not in the mood to endure flatterers!”
The old man sank into a seat, waving his hand as if the weight of his words alone could move everyone in the room. Neji couldn’t help a small smile as he saw how Lord Hirokazu’s presence made everyone else shift uncomfortably in their seats.
“Ah, Neji Hyūga.” His sharp eyes settled on Neji with an intensity that was almost unsettling. “At last, someone here who isn’t a complete fool.”
Neji stepped forward, bowing slightly as he offered a cup of tea.
“My lord.”
“Raise your head, boy.” Hirokazu waved his cane. “Hawks do not bow to anyone, and you’re more of a hawk than the jesters surrounding us.”
Neji straightened immediately, regarding the man with reserved respect. Hirokazu was one of the few members of the main branch who didn’t inspire resentment in him. It was hard to hate someone who distributed criticism so evenly, even toward his own family.
“How are you, Neji?” Hirokazu asked as he took a sip of tea. “Ah, wait, don’t answer. You’ll probably say something boring like ‘well’ or ‘in shape.’”
“I am healthy, thanks to Lady Tsunade and the ninja healers,” Neji replied, his tone remaining polite, though it was a partial truth.
“Ah, yes, the healers. Always keeping us alive just long enough to remain useful, isn’t that right?” Hirokazu took another sip before fixing Neji with a shrewd gaze. “Though you, boy, seem far too useful for your own good.”
Neji kept his expression neutral, though a slight chill ran down his spine.
“Do you think so, my lord?”
“I’ve always said so.” Hirokazu set the cup back on the tray with a soft thud. “In this clan, being talented can be as much a curse as it is a blessing. And lately, I’ve been hearing whispers about how certain matters are being decided. Whispers I don’t like.”
“Matters?” Neji asked cautiously, though curiosity crept into his voice.
Hirokazu studied him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Matters of alliances, of changes that most here don’t even comprehend but that will affect us all.” He leaned closer to Neji, lowering his voice so only he could hear. “Changes that benefit neither the branches… nor the roots.”
Neji remained still, Hirokazu’s words echoing in his mind like a distant drumbeat. The old man had said nothing concrete, but his insinuations were unmistakable.
“You should speak to the patriarch if you have concerns,” Neji said carefully.
Hirokazu leaned back with a short laugh.
“Speak to Hiashi?” he asked with mockery. “Oh, boy, your uncle lacks the imagination—and perhaps another Byakugan stuck up his nose—to see beyond it. What truly matters here is how you’ll stand when the ground shifts beneath your feet.”
A faint shiver ran through Neji, though his face remained composed.
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“Oh, nothing in particular.” The old man waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing off the question. Then he lowered his voice again. “Lately, I’ve seen far too many spiders in the air. I can feel them weaving their webs around us, hoping to catch a hawk that doesn’t realize it’s flying straight into their trap.”
Neji hesitated.
“Are you referring to… any specific clan?”
Hirokazu let out a brief, dry laugh, like brittle autumn leaves.
“Oh, no, no. I speak of no one, of course. Who would speak ill of clans who live as vagabonds and whose ‘laws’ shift with the wind?” He paused, his sharp eyes locking onto Neji. “Hawks have claws, nephew. But spiders don’t fight with claws. They fight with poison.”
“What are you implying?”
“Implying, suggesting…” Hirokazu smiled, leaning on his cane. “Call it what you will, dear. Just make sure that when the time comes, you remember that a hawk should never fly low, no matter what the silk-clad jesters might say.”
The old man rose with some effort, gesturing brusquely toward the hall.
"But don’t listen to me. After all, what does an old hawk know about poison?"
Neji watched Hirokazu walk away, his mind swirling with questions he knew the old man would never answer directly. But one thing was clear: something was being woven around the Hyūga clan, and it was not something he could ignore.
He thought of Shino, of his urgency to uncover the truth. His determination to keep Neji away from the approaching enemy.
The murmurs in the hall fell silent as Hiashi Hyūga rose from his seat. The patriarch’s figure radiated authority, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the room with eyes that seemed to pierce beyond what lay on the surface.
"Members of the Council, allies, and guardians of the Hyūga legacy," he began, his tone solemn yet cold, "today I have the privilege of presenting two important guests."
Neji, still standing in place with the tea tray in his hands, kept his gaze lowered as protocol demanded. Yet his thoughts lingered on Hirokazu’s words. Spiders don’t fight with claws. They fight with poison.
"These men represent a clan that has offered a strategic alliance, one that will benefit our family and secure our supremacy in these uncertain times," Hiashi continued, his tone unyielding. "I present to you Renjiro Kimushimaru, ‘Blackleg,’ and his Bloodmoon Priest, Ryoya Tsuchigumo."
The silence in the hall was so absolute that the name Kimushimaru seemed to echo against the walls. Neji, unable to stop himself, lifted his gaze slightly.
Beside Hiashi stood two men, their presence immediately setting him on edge. Their clothing was rough, dyed in dark, earthy tones that starkly contrasted with the elegant white robes of the Hyūga. There was something about them that radiated danger—perhaps it was their weathered faces, lined with scars and sunburns, or their eyes, the eyes of soldiers who had survived countless battles. But what drew Neji’s attention most were the tattoos.
Intricate black patterns snaked across the visible skin of both men, trailing over their necks and hands like spider legs. A shiver ran down Neji’s spine as he recognized the design. He had seen similar markings on those who had attacked him days ago, during the encounter that had changed his life for the worse.
"Servants of the branch," Hiashi announced, breaking Neji’s trance, "you may leave."
Neji bowed slightly, concealing his unease, and began moving toward the exit along with the other servants. Yet his mind was far from obedient. His eyes couldn’t help but drift back to the two men, studying every detail: the tattoos that seemed to shift with each breath, the calculated glances they exchanged, and the faint, knowing smile that Blackleg gave, as if he were privy to a secret no one else understood.
They may come for you.
Shino’s voice echoed in his memory, as though the Aburame were standing right beside him.
Neji gripped the tray tightly, feeling his muscles tense. His breathing grew heavier, but he managed to steady it before anyone could notice his agitation. He knew he needed to leave the hall, but his feet moved with deliberate slowness, as though his body refused to leave without first making sense of what was unfolding.
At the last moment, just as he crossed the threshold, he turned his head slightly, catching one final glimpse. Blackleg inclined his head toward Hiashi, while the Priest remained utterly still, his posture as calculated as it was unsettling. Hanzo, Hiashi’s personal bodyguard, stood firm behind the patriarch, but even the imposing man seemed unusually stiff.
Once Neji finally stepped into the corridor, his heart was pounding in his chest. Hirokazu and Shino’s words wove together in his mind like a sticky thread of silk.
What was his clan planning? And what role did he play in it all?
Your uncle and your father killed the leader of the Kimushimaru.
The hallway felt darker than usual, and Neji couldn’t shake the sensation that every shadow was an echo of the invisible webs being spun around him. He knew this alliance would bring nothing good to the Hyūga. And for him, perhaps even less.
Notes:
I'm debating whether I should keep the format of having two points of view per chapter or switch to having a single character narrate each chapter. That way, there would be a chapter from Shikamaru's POV, another from Neji's, Shino's, Kiba's, and so on. Although having multiple POVs in a single chapter is relaxing—especially when Neji narrates, since I feel like he talks like an old man, haha, and he's a bit dramatic—switching to a POV like Kiba's, whose thoughts are simpler, feels like a breather. I'll see what works best for the story.
Speaking of Kiba, please don't judge my man Shikamaru too harshly. He's a good guy, but war changes people, and he's under a lot of pressure right now. Also, don't judge Shino either; his feelings make him act a bit extreme. As you can see, I've come up with a ton of ideas for the Hyuga clan's religion, reworked how the Fourth War happened, added more political conflicts and secondary characters—I want to create a solid story. 😊 And I want it to be clear that I'm a huge Game of Thrones fan, haha, so I hope you'll continue to join me on this adventure.
Chapter 7: The cage
Summary:
Shikamaru interrogates the prisoner and uncovers darker things than he bargained for. Kiba breaks down in front of Shino. Neji has a mental spiral that leads him to fantasize about Shino and Shikamaru, driving him to some terrible conclusions in the process. Whatever’s living in his head is getting stronger and stronger.
Notes:
We’re back with the regularly scheduled programming... with a touch of obscenity—or something like that. But first, a little lore.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 7: The cage
Kiba walked as if heading toward his own execution, silently praying that it wasn’t the case. The dark hallways of the Intelligence Division seemed to close in with every step, as if the walls themselves knew what he had done—or what he couldn’t remember doing. Shikamaru led the way, his stride firm, hands buried in his pockets, radiating that unbearable air of calm that always made him seem like the most dangerous man in any room.
Naruto, on the other hand, seemed to be battling his own emotions. His usual spark of energy had dimmed, replaced with an obvious unease.
"Why the hell do they have to interrogate them here?" Kiba grumbled, breaking the silence. "It’s like everything in this place screams, ‘Confess or die.’"
"Because they do things here that can’t be done anywhere else. Remember the war? This place is terrifying because it’s supposed to be," Naruto replied grudgingly.
"Oh, great. That makes it so much better," Kiba scoffed.
They passed an open door, and for an instant, Kiba caught sight of Ibiki Morino, with his unmistakable scar and a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through one’s soul. The man gave them an almost imperceptible nod when their eyes met, but it was enough to make Kiba quicken his pace, as if trying to escape the feeling of being dissected.
"Nice guy, huh?" he murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Ibiki or Shikamaru?" Naruto asked.
Kiba frowned, deciding not to say anything else. Naruto, usually his companion in jokes and absurd chatter, looked as unsettled as a dog whose favorite toy had been taken away. He fidgeted constantly, his eyes fixed on Shikamaru’s back, as though waiting for permission to speak. Seeing the Hero and Savior of the Ninja World like this was both amusing and unnerving.
"So… Sasuke’s here too, right?" Naruto asked.
Shikamaru didn’t stop or change his expression.
"Yes, Naruto. He’s in a meeting with Kakashi and Tsunade."
Naruto frowned but stayed quiet for a moment. Kiba glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noticing how Naruto seemed to be struggling internally. Then he broke the silence again, this time more awkwardly.
"And the prisoners? Are you going to interrogate them now?"
"That’s the plan," Shikamaru said, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Tsunade made it clear that these things are strictly Intelligence Division matters, but since I’ve led this mission from the start, I’m allowed to conduct the interrogation myself. It’s obvious, but you keep asking questions that make no sense."
Naruto clenched his fists and exhaled, trying to stay calm.
"I was just asking."
Walking beside him, Naruto swallowed hard, his usual lack of tact evident even in his unease.
"It’s just that… Neji." The name came out clumsily, as if it were a weight he had been carrying. "This morning, when we saw him, I noticed something… different."
Kiba felt a stone sink to the pit of his stomach, sending ripples through every corner of his mind. His body tensed, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. Damn it, Naruto. Don’t bring this up now.
Shikamaru stopped abruptly, turning just enough to glance at Naruto over his shoulder. His gaze was serious, but there was something else there—something Kiba couldn’t quite identify. Was it discomfort? Embarrassment?
"What do you mean?"
Naruto avoided his eyes, scratching the back of his neck as though searching for the right words.
"It’s just that… I don’t know, Shikamaru. His body… his chest. You saw it too."
Shikamaru let out a long sigh, closing his eyes briefly before resuming his walk, his steps now faster.
"Yeah, I saw it. And before you say anything, I’m not going to discuss it with you here."
Naruto and Kiba had to pick up their pace to keep up with him. Kiba noticed, with a mix of surprise and discomfort, that Shikamaru avoided looking back. Was that a faint blush on his face? Well, that was unexpected.
"I’m not saying anything," Naruto insisted, though his tone betrayed him. "It’s just that… he’s changing too quickly, when Grandma said it wouldn’t happen like this. It’s weird, don’t you think?"
Kiba gritted his teeth. “Weird” is an understatement. Flashbacks kept surfacing at moments like this: Neji with wider hips, a slimmer waist, legs seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves, and that smile… coy, angelic, with soft lips that seemed to invite…
Damn it.
"Weird? Everything about Neji right now is weird. We don’t have answers, only theories."
The jinchūriki nodded, though he still didn’t seem convinced. He swallowed but didn’t back down.
"It’s not just that," he murmured. "What if we can’t stop it? What if he loses his identity? I… I know what that’s like, Shikamaru. Losing control of your body. Becoming something you’re not. It’s…"
He trailed off, staring at the ground as if the words had escaped on their own.
Kiba felt something twist inside him. He had tried not to think about it, but Naruto’s words hit like a punch to the face, reminding him exactly why he was there. “Becoming something you’re not.” The Inuzuka puberty. What it had done to Neji. Why they had brought him here, too: not just to wait his turn after Shikamaru finished with the prisoners, but because he knew his situation would be worse. They wouldn’t stop at interrogation.
They would dig into his mind.
The thought made him shudder. He would be exposed, vulnerable, under the scrutiny of Ino, Naruto, Sakura… and most of all, Shikamaru. Every corner of his mind laid bare, every memory, every fear, every mistake. Kiba swallowed hard.
On the other hand, the strategist’s expression softened. Just a little.
"He won’t lose it. I won’t let that happen."
Naruto looked up, searching for reassurance.
"Are you sure?"
Shikamaru nodded.
"I’d better be."
Naruto fell silent, but the unease remained etched on his face.
"And you?" Shikamaru asked, turning to Kiba for the first time since they’d started walking.
He stopped, startled, his heart pounding as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.
"Do you have anything to add, Kiba?" the mission leader pressed.
He shook his head, swallowing hard.
"Nothing."
Shikamaru studied him for a long moment. Finally, he nodded to himself and resumed walking.
"Good."
Naruto fell silent, and the hallway plunged back into silence, but Kiba couldn’t stop thinking about what had been said. Neji was losing control—that much was clear. But what really gnawed at him was another question, one that churned in his mind like a trapped animal and that he didn’t dare voice aloud: What if I lost control too?
And worse: Why? Why with him?
He had handled everything so well until now. The Inuzuka puberty—that unique hormonal disaster of his clan—had come late for him, after the war, when he turned seventeen. Thank the gods for that. The hormones were a problem, sure, but not a serious one. Nothing he couldn’t manage. He knew he was attractive, even with the slightly scruffy air he always carried; his reputation as a war participant and a shinobi hero made him irresistible to many village girls, and if none were available, well… there were always alternatives. Quick, discreet solutions that cost money.
It had never been out of control. Never a situation where someone could get hurt.
Until now.
Kiba clenched his fists. The memory of Neji, fragmented as it was, still lingered. His body, his smile, his voice moaning, and the way he’d looked at him that night... He forced himself to shake his head.
Hyūga could be a jerk, sure—arrogant and exasperating like no one else. But that didn’t matter. No one, not even him, deserved something like that. No shinobi did.
And yet, something had happened.
As they approached Interrogation Room 26, where they would wait, watching everything through a two-way mirror, Kiba looked up at Shikamaru’s back. That figure that had become cold and inaccessible after the war, the man everyone followed because he always seemed to have a plan.
If what Naruto says is true, I hope you have one now, Nara. Because I’ve got nothing.
Shikamaru entered the interrogation room with deliberate steps. Naruto and Kiba waited outside with two ANBU members overseeing the operation.
Inside, a woman sitting across the table looked up as Shikamaru stepped through the door. She was no beauty: older, at least in her mid-thirties, with long, reddish-brown hair that was frizzy and tangled like moss, a face covered in freckles and sunspots, and a body marked with strange tattoos. Her dark, shrewd eyes darted around as though the plain gray interrogation room was a place of endless fascination to her.
When Shikamaru closed the door and took a seat, the woman gave him a courteous, almost warm smile, as if they were having a casual chat in a tea room.
“Ah, the Lord Knot-Weaver himself. Truly an honor and a pleasure.” She rose gracefully and offered a bow. Her voice was soft but firm, clear enough to be heard even through the glass. “My name is Saeka Kimushimaru. I was brought here to discuss matters that may interest you.”
Kiba clenched his teeth to hold back a snicker. He had always found it amusing how much Shikamaru hated his war nickname, though this wasn’t the time to laugh.
“I don’t respond to that name,” Shikamaru said without a hint of humor.
“A thousand apologies, my lord.” Saeka tilted her head in apparent humility, taking her seat again. “Among my people, it’s customary and respectful to address shinobi by the titles they earned in battle. I see that here in the Leaf, traditions are different. I meant no offense.”
“You also don’t need to call me ‘my lord.’ I’m not lord of anything.”
For the first time, Saeka raised her head fully, her eyes locking on him as if evaluating his statement.
“Oh, really? But it’s such an appropriate title for someone like you. We nomads own nothing and never use such elegant titles, but I understood that leaders of a clan and their kin are to be treated with respect. Is the Young Deer not set to inherit his father’s forest?”
Kiba and Naruto exchanged glances. Shikamaru’s expression tightened for just a second before he composed himself, deliberately ignoring her question.
“Did you know my father?”
“Oh, yes. We fought on opposite sides during the War of Lost Islands. What a formidable strategist the Nara Stag was. He knew how to move his men like pieces on a shōgi board, and every move was a masterpiece. Even from the opposing side, I couldn’t help but admire him. How is he?”
“Dead.”
Saeka’s smile faded, and she bowed her head in respectful acknowledgment.
“My deepest condolences. A great loss for the shinobi world. But you… you are his echo, Young Deer. Beyond the physical.”
“If you’ve come only to offer your condolences, I think both you and I are wasting our time,” Shikamaru replied, cold as a leaf on the wind. “I’m not the type for these courtesies. Consider yourself lucky it isn’t Ibiki sitting here. So start talking. What do you know about the Kimushimaru experiments?”
Saeka let out a small sigh, as though his impatience were a minor inconvenience.
"I understand your urgency, my lord. But you must understand that I, too, have my precautions. I like to know who I’m speaking with before sharing... delicate information."
"You’re not in a position for precautions." Shikamaru leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Saeka’s. "If you truly want our protection, start talking."
She held his gaze for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Very well, my lord. As you wish." She leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "What happened in Yufuin was an experiment, as you rightly mention. But it wasn’t an experiment to win a war. It was something else... something far more ambitious."
"Define 'ambitious.'"
"The Kimushimaru seek something that will change the balance of the shinobi world forever. Yufuin was merely a test, a rehearsal to perfect our tools. The innocents who died..." She paused, as though searching for the right word. "Were nothing more than a sacrifice."
"Tools? What kind of tools?"
"Human tools, my lord. Living weapons, shaped to fulfill our leader’s purposes."
"And what is that purpose?"
Saeka smiled, but this time her expression carried a darker edge.
"Perhaps we should ask, Young Deer, what it is that the Kimushimaru fear. That is where you’ll truly find your answers."
Kiba had already read the report stating that this woman intended to ally with the Leaf after revealing information about her own clan, but he didn’t like the idea of considering someone who smiled during a conversation about innocent deaths as a potential ally.
Shikamaru seemed to search for a hidden meaning in her words. Finding none, he replied:
"Alright, tell me. What do the Kimushimaru fear?"
The woman straightened in her chair.
"To disappear. To lose everything they’ve built. And perhaps something more primitive: irrelevance." She paused, letting her words hang in the air before continuing. "But that, my lord, depends on you. Will you be able to understand their fears before it’s too late?"
Shikamaru didn’t look away, his face an unflinching mask.
"That’s something I’ll decide when you have something more useful to tell me. Now, tell me about the bodies. Why were all the victims men?"
Saeka sighed, as if the question were far too simple.
"Because men are more receptive to the hormonal alterations required by our research. That’s what that man from the Leaf taught our leader when he worked with him."
"What man?"
Saeka allowed a wider smile to spread across her face.
"I heard he died long ago at the hands of that handsome red-eyed boy who captured me. You must know him too. We called him the White Snake of the Leaf. You... Orochimaru."
Kiba caught a glimpse of Naruto clenching his fists out of the corner of his eye.
"That bastard... Not even death stops him from screwing things up," Naruto muttered.
"So your leader, the person behind this entire disaster, was Orochimaru’s student," Shikamaru said, his words deliberate and loaded with meaning. "I wouldn’t be wrong to assume that the toxins you’ve been creating, the research you’ve been conducting, are a direct continuation of his work. Am I correct?"
Saeka tilted her head slightly, a small courtesy to her interlocutor.
"I see you don’t miss the details, my lord." Her voice was soft, almost melodic, but her words carried a weight that couldn’t be ignored. "The White Snake had ambitions... grand ones, without a doubt, but also fragmented. My leader, Seima Kimushimaru, has taken those fragments and shaped them, weaving them with the methods of our ancestors. What were once mere sparks of genius are now tangible realities."
"Tangible realities?" Shikamaru repeated, with an edge of skepticism he made no effort to hide. "That sounds like an elegant way to describe experiments that crossed lines that should never have been crossed."
"Elegant, yes, but also accurate." Saeka didn’t avert her gaze from the Nara. "Science, after all, rarely pauses to consider morality, don’t you think?"
Kiba frowned behind the mirror.
"Then let’s talk about one of those experiments." Shikamaru shifted slightly, leaning further forward. "The substance that transforms a man’s body into a woman’s. Tell me about it."
The woman appeared surprised, though her hands, clasped on the table, tensed ever so slightly.
"You’re referring to the Jasei Toxin, my lord."
She inclined her head again, as if deliberating how much to reveal.
"That is undoubtedly one of the most ambitious advances of my clan. Its creation began long before I was born, under the previous clan leader. However, the new leader has refined it. The visible effects, like feminization, are merely the surface. In truth, it’s a catalyst."
"A catalyst for what?" Shikamaru asked.
Saeka smiled faintly, a gesture that seemed more for herself than for her interlocutor.
"To unlock the potential lying dormant in the genetic limits of humans. The human body, Young Deer, is full of barriers. Genetic, mental, emotional barriers... The Jasei Toxin seeks to dismantle them, allowing the body and mind to reach a state that would normally take years of training, discipline, and sacrifice."
Kiba shuddered at her words. He couldn’t imagine someone like Neji, who already seemed to have achieved perfection, being pushed even further.
"And yet, that state comes at a price, doesn’t it?" Shikamaru asked, his gaze making it clear this wasn’t a guess. "Every strength has a breaking point."
"It is a high price, yes, the very sacrifice of the body and mind. But perfection, as you know, always demands it. And not everyone is willing to pay."
"And those who aren’t?" he pressed.
"They are irrelevant." Saeka’s words were cold enough to make even Kiba shiver. "As for the Jasei Toxin itself—its components, dosage, reaction time, or whether it can be reversed—I’m afraid I have no way of knowing that information. I’m no scientist, and we were never told exact details about the experiments we carried out. We were merely sent to spread them."
"Infecting random people. Killing them when it didn’t work."
"Exactly."
The Nara didn’t react, though his eyes narrowed slightly, as if storing every word for later scrutiny.
"Tell me something, Saeka." He crossed his hands on the table, adopting an even more intimidating posture. "You’re here, cooperating, asking for our protection. But what makes you think you can trust us?"
"Because you, my Lord Deer, have something my clan has never had: honor." Her words were delicate, almost like a confession. "And because I have nothing left to lose. If it’s not you who kills me, it will be them. But before that moment comes, I want to make the attempt, however futile, to stop Seima."
"And why stop him now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "The Kimushimaru have been vile since their founding. What changed for you?"
Saeka let out a long sigh, her gaze drifting momentarily toward the table, as if reluctant to reveal what she knew. Finally, she looked up, and Kiba, from the other side of the glass, felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Years ago, our clan harbored a cult within it. We are no strangers to genetic modification, my lord. It has always been our belief. The idea of transcending the limits of the human body is our doctrine, our raison d'être. But that cult... they took our beliefs to an extreme that still haunts me at night."
"What kind of extreme?" Shikamaru pressed.
"They worshiped only one of the 12 Lunar Gods—Momoshiki, the lord of flesh and blood. They believed that to achieve perfection, we needed to rid ourselves of everything that made us human. Not just the physical, but also the emotional, the spiritual. And for them, the first step was to eliminate the ability to procreate."
Kiba frowned from behind the mirror, but he didn’t look away. Naruto gritted his teeth.
"Eliminate the ability to procreate?"
"They claimed that procreation was an inherent flaw of humanity. That reproduction, and the impure, carnal desires that come with it, were chains binding us to the cycle of weakness. So they began their experiments... on the women of the clan."
Kiba felt the air in the room grow heavier. The leader remained unflinching.
"They sacrificed them, my lord," Saeka continued, her voice laden with cold resignation. "Not just their bodies, but because they believed that within them resided the 'original flaw.' They wanted to extract it, dissect it, eradicate it. They called it 'the impure seed.'"
"This is madness," Naruto muttered.
"The experiments went beyond what anyone could imagine." Saeka lowered her gaze for a moment, as if recalling something too horrible to voice aloud. "They didn’t just mutilate them. They tried to fuse their bodies with insect DNA, aiming to create a perfect being that wouldn’t need reproduction to perpetuate its lineage."
"And what did they achieve?" Shikamaru asked, though his tone made it clear he already knew the answer.
Saeka raised her eyes.
"Monsters, my lord. That’s what they achieved. Twisted, deformed, trapped between the human and the inhuman. Beings that couldn’t live, couldn’t die, and couldn’t stop suffering."
"Monsters..." Naruto repeated, as if the mere word offended him.
"The leader of that cult was Seima’s father. He’s the one who started all of this. And now I fear his son is following in his footsteps. You are the living proof that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Young Deer."
"That’s an interesting story," Shikamaru commented coldly. "But I need more than a story. Do you have proof of what you’re saying? That the massacre you speak of happened? That it could happen again, and that you’re in danger?"
Saeka stared at him, her expression a mix of defiance and plea.
Shikamaru didn’t change his expression, but Kiba noticed the slight clench of his hands on the table—a gesture so subtle that probably no one else would have caught it. That coldness was starting to exasperate him; it was as if nothing this poor woman said, no matter how horrific, could affect him. Knot Weaver, Shadow Strategist of the Leaf—right, Kiba thought bitterly. They should call him Ice Shadow or King of the Zombies, because he didn’t seem to have a shred of empathy in his body.
"N-no, I have no proof, my lord. Only what I’ve seen with my own eyes. And that should be enough."
The genius studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he tilted his head slightly, as if weighing something.
"You say you have no proof. But you’re not here out of altruism. You want to stop Seima, but not because you care about the lives he destroys."
For the first time in the entire conversation, Saeka seemed to tense.
"What do you think I want, my lord?"
Shikamaru barely smiled—a gesture so faint that Kiba almost missed it.
"Survival. That’s all. You’ve seen what happens to those who oppose Seima. You know there’s no place for you in his vision of the future. So you’ve come here, seeking refuge, hoping we can protect you. Am I wrong?"
Saeka held his gaze, but Kiba noticed the slight tightening of her jaw.
"Perhaps you’re not wrong, my lord. But even a cornered spider can be useful if it has information others don’t."
"Then prove it to me. Tell me something worthwhile." Shikamaru’s voice was low and measured, his words deliberately slow. "The other bodies—the ones that looked as if they’d been... drained. What happened to them?"
Saeka frowned slightly, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face.
"For all this 'scientific advancement,' for all the experiments with forbidden jutsu and the teachings Orochimaru passed on to my leader, we’re still a nomadic clan with limited resources. Some experiments got out of control. Those attacks you mention were caused by beasts..." She made a slight gesture with her hands, as if searching for the right words. "Half-human, half-bloodsucking insect. They escaped from our facilities and, as far as we know, they’re reproducing at an alarming rate. I have a sample among the belongings that were confiscated when I arrived—a small insect in a jar, the same species that transformed them into monsters."
Shikamaru nodded slowly.
"And Neji Hyūga?" he asked.
Saeka blinked, as if the name had taken her by surprise.
"Excuse me, my lord? A Hyūga?"
"You said they experimented on anyone—civilians or not. But one of my comrades, a Leaf shinobi, was infected with the Jasei Toxin." Shikamaru leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a kunai. "And I don’t believe that was a coincidence."
"I can’t say for certain if it was a deliberate target... but I wouldn’t be surprised." Saeka met Shikamaru’s gaze cautiously. "The Byakugan is a legendary dōjutsu, isn’t it? Any ambitious leader would see such power as either an invaluable asset or an intolerable threat."
She paused, as though ensuring Shikamaru followed her, though Kiba knew the Nara was already two steps ahead.
"It’s possible Neji Hyūga was an experiment to determine how far the Jasei Toxin could go in someone with such a powerful kekkei genkai. But there’s more." Saeka frowned slightly, as if recalling something that didn’t quite fit. "Seima... seems fascinated by the Hyūga. Almost obsessed, I’d say. Perhaps he saw Neji as the perfect canvas for his experiments. Or perhaps it was simply bad luck."
Shikamaru didn’t react immediately, but his expression grew darker, as if he could tear the truth from Saeka's guts. Like he was really thinking about ripping out guts. She seemed to sense it, because she continued, her tone lower now, as if entrusting him with a secret.
"I’ll tell you this: if Neji was targeted deliberately, it means Seima considers him important. Why? I can’t say for sure. But there’s something that might help you understand better." She paused, letting her words linger in the air before continuing. "In the past, his father, Saigo Kimushimaru, made secret dealings with the Hyūga. If this Neji was a target, it could be related to those old agreements."
"Dealings?"
"I don’t know the details." Saeka shrugged. "But I know those agreements were... complex. Political, peaceful, who knows? Perhaps Seima believes he can manipulate him. Or perhaps he’s simply trying to claim something he thinks is rightfully his."
Shikamaru remained silent, but Kiba could see his fingers drumming softly on the table—an almost imperceptible gesture that betrayed how fast his mind was working. Finally, the Nara leaned back in his chair, letting the silence stretch, heavy and uncomfortable.
"If you're lying, I'll know."
Saeka nodded slowly.
"I don't doubt that, Young Deer."
Shikamaru stood up.
"That's enough. Take her back to her cell," he ordered, and two ANBU operatives entered immediately to escort Saeka out of the room.
"How can he stay so calm?" Kiba muttered, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the interrogation room.
"Calm? Nah." Naruto paused. "That’s not calm. I bet the gears in his head are turning like crazy. He always knows what he’s doing."
Kiba let out a snort.
"Yeah, because killing a guy on his knees begging for mercy is a great example of knowing what he’s doing, right?"
Naruto froze in his tracks, a defensive air about him.
"That was during the war, Kiba," he said, annoyed. "And yeah, it was awful, but we all did things we didn’t want to do. You and me included."
Kiba dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment, his words catching in his throat. Of course, he understood that. He, too, had done things he didn’t want to remember, and the mere thought made his chest tighten.
"It’s just that..." Kiba began, struggling to find the words. "Look at him. Look how he evaluates her, how he stays emotionless, like a face carved from stone. Shikamaru hasn’t been the same since the war. Something changed, man. It’s like... I don’t know, like he doesn’t have brakes anymore."
Naruto didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on Shikamaru through the glass.
"Maybe because he doesn’t. But he’s still our Shikamaru. He just understands now that sometimes you have to do horrible things to protect the people you care about—dirty your hands."
"And what if those hands end up around my neck next?" Kiba said with a nervous laugh, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a joke.
Uzumaki let out a small laugh.
"Then you’d better not give him a reason, huh?"
As the door closed behind the Nara, Kiba let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He looked at Naruto, who seemed just as tense, then back at Shikamaru, standing in front of the mirror with his arms crossed.
"That was... revealing," Naruto said.
"And it’s not over. I’m sure that woman knows more than she’s letting on. If it’s all true, we’re in a much bigger mess than we initially thought—especially with the Hyūga," Shikamaru replied. Kiba was certain he had drawn several conclusions from the interrogation, but he didn’t seem inclined to share them just yet.
"We just wanted to help Neji... and now the shadow of that bastard Orochimaru is looming over us again."
Shikamaru stood deep in thought for a moment, his thumb resting on his chin. For a brief instant, Kiba hoped the matter with him had been forgotten, that everything happening with Neji and the Kimushimaru clan would be enough to distract the Nara. But then, as if he had read Kiba’s mind, Shikamaru turned his head toward him.
"Your turn. We’re going to find Ino and Sakura right now. We need to get into your head and recover those memories."
The words hit like a bomb. Kiba felt his stomach churn.
Before he could come up with an excuse, two figures appeared at the end of the hallway: Shino and Chōji. Shino walked with that calm, methodical gait that always made him seem like a damned specter. Chōji, on the other hand, had a more relaxed expression, but something in his eyes betrayed that he wasn’t entirely comfortable.
"Ino’s not in the village," Shino said directly, as was his way. "Lady Hokage sent her on a retrieval mission an hour ago."
Kiba felt a small spark of relief at that. He wasn’t going to endure that damned mental interrogation—not yet, at least.
"Without Ino, it’s impossible," he said quickly, trying to sound more casual than he felt. "I’m not letting just any Yamanaka mess around in my head. Ino’s my friend. I trust her, but no one else."
"And what are you doing here, Shino?" Naruto asked, clearly puzzled.
The Aburame stopped in front of them, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze hidden behind his dark glasses. Even so, Kiba felt their eyes meet.
"The Intelligence Division summoned me. Kakashi and Sasuke brought in some corpses. I was asked to perform autopsies." Shino’s tone was so monotonous it sounded like he was commenting on the weather.
"Perfect," Shikamaru said with a nod, as if just deciding something. "In addition to the autopsies, I need you to analyze something else."
Shino tilted his head, a slight nod that seemed more like a gesture of courtesy than acceptance.
Kiba, however, was barely listening. The words came and went like a distant echo as his mind sank into that cursed whirlwind of guilt and fear.
How did I get here?
Every time he thought the situation couldn’t get worse, something new came along to push his head further underwater. First, the mission—his stupid jokes, his senseless teasing just to annoy Shino. Then, the blurry fragments of that night—the images of Neji he couldn’t push away. And now Shino, right here, just before he was interrogated. He silently thanked every god that Ino wasn’t around.
Traitor.
That word pounded in his head like a war drum. It was all he could hear. Traitor to his team, to his clan, to Neji—but most of all, to Shino. He had failed at the most basic thing: being a good friend.
Neji.
The name brought with it a surge of images: long legs, a smile that wasn’t his, words he couldn’t believe had come out of his own mouth. And then, the shadow of Shino behind it all—his best friend’s devotion to someone Kiba despised.
The lump in his throat grew until it was unbearable. His heart pounded fiercely, not from anger, but from the sheer fear of facing what he had done, even if he couldn’t fully remember it.
I’m an idiot. I’m a damned beast.
Before he could stop himself, his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees on the floor. The sound of the impact made everyone turn to look at him, but Kiba barely noticed. He lowered his head, bowing until his forehead touched the cold hallway floor.
“Kiba, what the hell is wrong with you?” Naruto took a step toward him, his voice more concerned than angry.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, broken. Barely a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m so sorry.”
“Buddy, what are you talking about?” Chōji asked, confused.
“I don’t deserve to be called that—I’ve been a terrible friend.” Kiba squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears burning his cheeks as they streamed uncontrollably. “I can’t... I can’t believe what I did.”
The hallway fell silent, except for the sound of his ragged breathing and sobs. He didn’t dare look at Shino, knowing it would only make things worse. How could he explain? How could he even begin to try?
I slept with Neji. I got involved with the person Shino... the person Shino cares about the most.
The weight of that betrayal crushed him. He had been an idiot, a damned animal following his instincts. And even though he didn’t remember the details, he knew there was no excuse for what had happened. How was he supposed to face this?
“Please, forgive me.” Kiba’s voice trembled, and so did his body. “Forgive me, Shino, for... for everything.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Naruto glanced at Shino, clearly expecting him to say something, but the Aburame remained motionless, as if he didn’t know how to respond.
Finally, it was Shino who broke the silence.
“Get up, Kiba.” His voice was calm, as always, but there was a firmness in it that left no room for argument. “Stop.”
At first, Kiba didn’t move. He couldn’t. But Shino’s command was like a whip, and eventually, he managed to lift his head just enough to look at him.
Shino’s expression was unreadable, hidden behind those damn glasses he never took off. But something in his posture, in the way he kept his hands clasped behind his back, made Kiba feel the weight on his shoulders increase even more.
“Please... forgive me,” Kiba repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
Shino didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. And for Kiba, that was the worst part of all.
----
The candle in the corner of the room had begun to wane, its flame struggling against the shadows that stretched along the walls like elongated fingers. Neji sat on the floor, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, trying to meditate. But his mind was far from calm.
The message had arrived minutes after the meeting ended. A messenger from the branch family, Aoi, without lifting his gaze from the scroll he held, had said:
“Lord Hyūga orders you to remain in your room until further notice. Do not leave under any circumstances until summoned.”
The words echoed in his mind like the distant toll of a bell. As though he were a rebellious child needing punishment, or a dog that had misbehaved. He didn’t even know if he had done something wrong, though it shouldn’t surprise him—not after so many years. But the wounded pride still felt like a thorn lodged deep in his chest.
He closed his eyes, trying to recite passages from the Getsushidō in his mind, as if that could calm the chaos stirring within him. “If, beneath the light of your lunar gods, any fragment of your being casts shadows of betrayal…” But the memories of the meeting returned like waves, pulling his concentration away with them.
He had been there, standing, serving tea and carrying plates of food as his place in the meeting dictated. Invisible, as always. The murmurs, the occasional glances—he had recorded it all with precision, searching for a detail, a clue, something to explain why Hiashi had summoned these men. Yet he had found nothing. Only gossip and evasive glances, as though every word was wrapped in a veil of secrets he was not allowed to touch.
Except for him.
They had called him Blackleg. He was a strange man, tall and slender, with weathered skin and a leg covered by a black metal prosthesis that resonated faintly against the floor with each step. His hair was long and dark, tied into a braid that fell over his shoulder, and his smile... his smile was like a knife.
Neji had felt his gaze even before stumbling into him. It was an unforgivable lapse, one that made him silently curse himself as the tea sloshed slightly over the edge of the tray. He immediately lowered his head, bowing deeply.
"My apologies, my lord. It was not my intention..."
But Blackleg raised a hand, stopping him before he could finish.
“Ah, the little bird trapped in a golden cage,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “Do not apologize, young one. Stumbling is inevitable when one walks blindfolded.”
Neji gritted his teeth but did not raise his gaze. It was forbidden to look guests in the eye or respond to their words beyond what was strictly necessary. Still, his words unsettled him. "Little bird trapped." What did this man know about him?
“It’s a beautiful cage, of course,” Blackleg continued. “But even the most magnificent cage is still a prison, don’t you think?”
Neji was about to murmur some generic apology when a figure appeared at his side.
“Neji.” Hiashi’s voice was firm. “Stop bothering our guests and do your duty.”
Neji bowed even deeper, biting his tongue. Bothering. It was a simple word, but one laden with intent. It wasn’t a correction; it was a public declaration of his place.
Hiashi turned toward Blackleg, his smile diplomatic, but his eyes as cold as winter.
“My apologies, Lord Kimushimaru. This is Neji, a servant of the branch family. He tends to be clumsy and overly inquisitive, but we’ve yet to rid ourselves of him. I hope he hasn’t caused you any inconvenience.”
Neji felt something inside him break. It wasn’t the first time Hiashi had humiliated him, but each time felt like a dagger thrust into the same wound. A servant. Not a shinobi, not a member of the clan, much less “my nephew.”
Blackleg, however, didn’t seem offended. His smile widened, but he did not respond to Hiashi. Instead, his attention remained fixed on Neji, as though Hiashi weren’t even there.
“A servant, you say?” he murmured, almost to himself. “Among the nomads, we don’t draw such sharp lines between lords and servants. After all, a single pawn, well-placed, can alter the course of an entire game.”
Lord Hyūga ignored the comment, though the tension in his face was evident. Neji didn’t need to look up to see it.
“Neji, leave,” Hiashi commanded, his tone making it clear there was no room for questions.
Neji bowed once more and withdrew, the weight of Blackleg’s words following him like a shadow.
Now, in the solitude of his room, those words still echoed in his mind. Had they been a warning? A provocation?
He looked toward the small window that faced the inner courtyard. The stars were hidden behind thick clouds, but the moonlight filtered faintly through. A cage. Blackleg didn’t need to remind him; he had lived in one his entire life.
He brought his hands to his face, exhaling slowly. He had tried to pray, but the words wouldn’t come. Even the gods seemed unwilling to listen.
Though the meeting continued in Nevernight, the Cadge—the estate where the branch family resided—was steeped in an unsettling silence, broken only by the whisper of the wind slipping through the pavilions. Shino’s words still rang in his mind: “They will come for you.” At the time, he had thought Shino was exaggerating, but now he knew he was right. The Kimushimaru were here, and though the Hyūga clan insisted that everything was under control, paranoia lingered, stalking him like a shadow he could not ignore. They had done something to him, and now they were back to finish what they had started—for reasons only they understood.
He looked at his reflection in a hand mirror that Hanabi had given him for his birthday. There was something deeply unsettling about his own image. His skin, pale and pearlescent under the faint light of the candle, seemed weird, as if it belonged to someone else. The bandage around his chest, which he had wrapped after bathing, felt suffocating, leaving deep lines in his skin. He gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breathing.
The gods were watching him—he was certain of that. And if the gods were watching, they were also judging.
Poor thing, whispered the voice, shattering the silence of his mind like splintered glass. Clinging to your faith as if it were a shield. All of this for the insects of a cursed clan. But look at what it has done to you. Look at what you are now.
“I am not that,” he murmured, his tone calm but his fingers tightening against the tatami mat.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to quiet his own thoughts. If he could not pray, then at the very least, he could try to meditate, to find a way to access his chakra again and protect himself. For three days now, he had not felt his vital energy flow through his body, and he was convinced that this disconnection was the root of his sickly appearance.
Closing his eyes, he focused, gathering his chakra as he had done countless times before. At first, it seemed impossible; something within him felt broken, severed, as though an invisible barrier blocked his way. But with tremendous effort, he finally felt the faint flow of energy responding to his call—a fragile thread weaving through his limbs. Slowly, the chakra began to move through his body, warm and comforting, filling the voids left by the poison.
He concentrated on his hands, directing the chakra toward the scratches on his wrists, arms, and neck—marks left courtesy of Kiba. The cuts began to close, the skin mending under the gentle glow of his energy. Relief washed over him, like regaining something he thought had been lost forever.
But along with that relief came something else, something he had not expected. The warmth of the chakra intensified, spreading from his abdomen to the tips of his nipples and further downward. It was a sensation all too familiar, one he had struggled to suppress, yet it returned now with a searing force. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the mantra he repeated in his mind, but the sacred words dissolved, replaced by seductive whispers that were not his own.
Look at how your own body betrays you. It knows what you truly want, Neji. It isn’t forgiveness from the gods. It isn’t purity. It’s hearing Shino promise to stay by your side. It’s feeling Shikamaru near, calling out to you. It’s that wretched hunger to be seen, loved, approved of.
He shut his eyes tightly. His breathing became erratic as the warmth grew, and with it, the images. The air around him seemed to grow hotter. Behind his closed eyelids, the images began to take shape—at first blurry, then sharper, until he felt as if he were transported elsewhere.
He was no longer in his room, nor in the temple. He was in an unfamiliar yet welcoming place, a room bathed in soft golden light, with the murmur of a distant breeze.
Shikamaru was there, sitting beside him, his posture relaxed and his gaze fixed on him. Gods, he was so handsome. But this time, there was no weariness in his eyes, no casual sarcasm in his tone. This time, his words were soft, intimate, like a shared secret.
“Neji, why do you keep carrying everything alone?” Shikamaru asked, leaning toward him. His voice was low, so close that Neji could feel the warmth of his breath. His fingers, firm yet careful, touched Neji’s chin, lifting it gently. “You know you can trust me, don’t you?”
Neji’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to respond, but his voice caught in his throat.
This is what you always wanted, isn’t it? For him to look at you the way he’s looking at you now.
He felt another presence at his side. Shino was there, standing silently. But in this vision, his glasses were gone, revealing dark eyes that gazed at Neji with a devotion that sent shivers through him. There was an intensity in those eyes that left him defenseless. Shino stepped closer, his movements deliberate, and knelt before him.
“I always knew you were more than what they wanted you to believe,” Shino said, his voice low but steady, as though each word was a declaration. “Even when you pushed me away, even when you obeyed their orders. I always knew who you really were.”
Neji wanted to pull away, to deny everything, but Shino’s words felt like a caress.
He was always there. He always wanted to protect you, even when you didn’t think you deserved it. Even when you pushed him away.
Shikamaru took Neji’s hand gently, intertwining their fingers. Neji trembled at the contact.
“Do you know your greatest weakness?” Shikamaru asked, his tone serious yet filled with a tenderness Neji had never heard before. “You think you don’t deserve anything. And that’s a damn lie. Stop punishing yourself for everything.”
Neji wanted to pull away, to deny it all, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t face that truth, not when they were both there, looking at him in a way that made him feel more exposed than ever.
“You don’t have to try so hard to be loved,” Shikamaru continued.
“And you don’t have to be perfect for me to love you,” Shino added, lifting a hand to brush against his cheek.
Neji felt tears welling up in his eyes. The warmth of their hands, the softness of their words, the weight of their gazes filled with adoration—it was all too much. It was everything he had ever wanted.
In this dream, Shikamaru leaned closer, his lips mere inches from Neji’s, while Shino stayed near, his other hand resting on Neji’s shoulder.
“Neji, let us take care of you. Let us help you,” Shikamaru murmured.
“Let us protect you,” Shino said, his tone so sincere it felt like a blade cutting through Neji’s chest.
“Let us love you,” they whispered in unison, their voices intertwining like a melody that shattered him completely.
His heart raced, and before he could process it, Shikamaru’s lips captured his in a kiss—direct, raw, stripped of all delicacy. It was firm, assured, as though claiming what was rightfully his, and yet, it felt perfect. Warmth consumed him at once, spreading from his lips to every corner of his being, leaving him suspended in a moment he never wanted to end. There was something hypnotic in the way Shikamaru commanded even in this dream, moving with a precision that bordered on divine. And Neji, for once, did not want to resist.
This is how it should be, murmured the voice in his mind. This is how it always should have been. You, loved. You, protected.
When the kiss ended, Shino leaned closer to him, his fingers still grazing his skin.
"I don't ever want you to feel alone again, Neji."
Before he could reply, Shino's lips found his. This kiss was unlike Shikamaru’s; it was deeper, charged with a passion that had been suppressed for far too long. Shino grabbed him by the collar of his tunic, pulling him closer with a roughness that felt almost desperate, as though he feared Neji might vanish if he let go.
He felt hands—hands everywhere—but this time, it was different. There was no disgust, no rejection. The hands of Shikamaru and Shino, calloused and hardened by years of war and combat, touched him with unexpected care. Each touch, though firm, carried a tenderness that made his breath hitch.
Neji was blind, intoxicated by the delicious sensations. One of them was behind him, stimulating the tips of his nipples with his thumb and forefinger, rubbing his member between Neji's ass. At some point he had been completely naked, naked between them, but he didn't care. Someone was kissing his neck, while another continued gently kissing his face, while caressing her legs, her sex, her waist. At some point he began to feel light bites near his throat going down to his collarbones and chest.
He wanted more. When it came to them, he wanted everything.
He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Shikamaru’s face, watching him with that familiar expression: calm interest and a faint, ironic smile that never failed to disarm him. Neji adored that face.
Shikamaru, too, was stripped of his clothing, and his body, firm and strong, was a sight that Neji allowed himself to admire freely for the first time. He reached out to touch him—something he had never done before, though he had secretly longed to, countless times. The Nara’s strong arms had been a recurring sin in Neji’s thoughts, a forbidden desire that haunted him every time they shared missions.
When Shikamaru wandered around wearing nothing but that cursed mesh shirt, Neji always tried, in vain, not to stare. But the temptation always won, leading to guilty, fleeting glances. Now, in this moment, there was no need to look away—but he no longer wanted to stop at just looking.
Neji began to go down slowly, passing his hands over Shikamaru’s rock-strong stomach, over his belly, to his thick, hard penis, taking it with both hands and beginning to masturbate it from head to base with some shyness. He wanted to do it right for the Nara. After rubbing his cock for a few minutes - during which time Shino had started a series of kisses from shoulders to lower back - Neji put the whole thing in his mouth, covering it with saliva and savoring that large piece of meat that went deep inside from his throat. Every time he reached the bell, the involuntary feeling of nausea was present, a reflex that, instead of deterring him, encouraged him to try to go even deeper. He let out his tongue, licked it with desire using the tip, tried to devour it from the testicles to the glans.
He continued to masturbate Shikamaru rapidly, determined to make him cum.
Meanwhile, Shino gripped his hair while his other hand traced along Neji’s chest, teasing his nipples with delicate precision, sending shivers of desire coursing through his body. Neji barely managed to stifle a cry when Shino bit into the base of his neck, teetering on the edge of release at the mere thought of being marked, claimed by him.
Neji was trapped between them, cornered. It was too much, and yet he didn’t want it to end.
Shikamaru’s hands pressed firmly against his shoulders, grounding him, reminding him of his place.
"That’s it, good boy. Do what you need to do."
Neji’s knees nearly buckled, his body trembling. The weight of those words, those touches—it was overwhelming. He had spent his entire life seeking approval, fighting to be the perfect son, the perfect shinobi, the perfect weapon. And now, the two people who mattered most were giving him everything he had never allowed himself to accept.
Without thinking much, he bent his knees to better raise his hips towards the Aburame. It was then that Neji realized how soaked he was between his legs, a strange, clear liquid dripping down his thighs. He let out a moan as Shino brought the tip of his cock closer to Neji’s wet hole, Neji was going crazy from the contact, trying to force himself to make it happen but Shino continued to tease him, barely entering him.
Shikamaru leaned down and kissed Neji again. The Hyuga wrapped a hug around his neck and kissed him back as best he could. He felt Shino move between his thighs and then there was something forceful and hot between his anal cavity. Before he knew it, Shino was already breaking him in two. Neji broke the kiss and screamed, clawing at Shikamaru's back, arching his body.
Gods, having Shino inside him felt so good. It was everything Neji never knew he wanted.
The Aburame loomed over him and Neji thought he would die if he didn't move. And then Shino did it. He pulled out halfway, but before Neji could beg him not to pull it out, he thrust in again, deeper this time. The Hyuga could feel a rush of sensations in every inch of his body.
He continued to scratch Shikamaru's back as Shino take him harder and harder. Neji used his legs and hands to hold on as best as possible, moving his body automatically, crying and spouting nonsense as his friend possessed him.
“You’re doing so well, Neji. So well,” said Shikamaru, his voice far from the disinterested tone that was so typical of him.
Something stirred deep within Neji, a hunger he had always kept buried. He was enjoying this—the pleasure was undeniable—but a darker, more primal part of him craved more. This wasn’t enough. He wanted it all.
He wanted them both—by his side, above him, with him, inside him—both of them devouring every part of his existence.
And yet, how could he want two men at once? How could he desire to have them both, knowing it was so impossible, so wrong? It was a double sin, a transgression the gods could never forgive. And yet, here he was, wanting them with every fiber of his being, as though the emptiness in his soul could only be filled by having them both, by claiming what could never be his.
It was a greed that consumed him, a love he wasn’t sure he could even call love, because there was nothing pure about it. It was desire, need, hunger. And he knew: to want them both like this was his damnation.
"Please..." he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was begging them to stop or to keep going.
“Please what?” Shino asked, his voice calm, patient.
“Just say it, Neji. Say it, and it’s yours,” Shikamaru added.
Tears burned in his eyes, a storm of desire and shame raging inside him. He wanted to resist, wanted to be strong. But in this moment, he only wanted to be what they wanted him to be: perfect, obedient whore, worthy of their praise.
The desire to please, to hear more of those words, was stronger. Shino raised a hand, gently tracing the line of his jaw as though it were something fragile and precious.
'I need you both...inside' he finally whispered, his voice broken.
The need within Neji was like a black hole, devouring him from the core. He wanted to hear it again, louder, firmer. He wanted to hear Shikamaru say he longed for him, that no one else could be more trustworthy, more deserving. He wanted to feel Shino's hand on his face, telling him he was beautiful, that he deserved love, that he would be protected.
At last, you're accepting it. You will never be pure again, Neji, the voice said suddenly. And the worst part is that a part of you doesn’t want to be.
You’re giving in, surrendering to your indecent desires. You’re a disgrace.
Suddenly, clarity returned. He remembered where he was, who he was.
'No!' he shouted, shattering the fragile veil of fantasy like a mirror breaking into pieces.
Neji’s eyes snapped open with a shuddering gasp. His breath was ragged, as though he’d been running for hours, and his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Heat still burned through his body, sticky and uncontrollable, drenching him in sweat he couldn’t shake off. The words and images remained, lodged in his mind like needles. His hands clenched into fists, but even that gesture trembled with weakness.
Something cold and familiar brushed against his fingers. He looked down and felt his stomach sink. In his hand was a kunai, the handle slick with a transparent liquid that trailed down the blade. He threw it away in horror as he realized that all this time, while he had been moaning and begging, fantasizing about Shino fucking him, he had actually been masturbating with the hilt of the weapon.
He couldn’t fall any lower.
Revulsion washed over him like a wave. Not just for what he’d done but for himself. His body shook uncontrollably, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the abrupt, filthy pleasure he had just interrupted or the sheer agony of seeing himself so out of control once again. Breathing was difficult; his chest felt tight, as though he were trapped, bound.
He was on the floor of his room, but he could hardly recognize himself in that space. It was as though everything had changed. He brought a trembling hand to his chest, feeling the tightly wrapped bandages beneath his clothing. He was suffocating—physically and emotionally.
He had put the bandages on hours ago, after bathing, in a desperate attempt to hide the feminine curves that had begun to emerge on his body. But now the bindings felt tighter, almost alive, as if they sought to crush him—as though the gods themselves were punishing him for his thoughts, for the sins his body had committed without his consent. His fingers fumbled over the knot of the bandages, loosening them.
The pressure eased, and for a brief moment, he felt a fleeting relief. But when he looked down at his chest, he didn’t see just flesh; he saw betrayal. He saw everything he had been taught to hate, to reject: lust, obscenity. His chest was swollen, deformed, the tissue growing unnaturally beneath his skin, becoming more pronounced with each passing day. Those cursed women’s breasts, growing larger with time.
It was grotesque, aberrant. He bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to scream.
His appearance was no longer his own; it was that of a stranger. A creature that had no place in this world.
Neji staggered back, his trembling body colliding with the wall. His hands quivered, unsure whether to cover his chest or tear away the skin that betrayed him.
A little bird trapped in a golden cage, the voice whispered. Isn’t that how they described you? How poetic. How tragic, when it seems that the beautiful cage is this cursed body.
'Shut up!' he murmured, pressing his temples with both hands as if he could crush the voice that seeped into every corner of his mind. 'Shut up, shut up for once!'
The laughter that followed wasn’t mocking. It was soft, calculated, like the brush of a dagger across his skin.
This is all leading you to the same place. Think of your father. Remember what they did to him, what you allowed them to do to you, too. Isn’t this justice? Isn’t this the punishment you always knew you deserved for your weakness?
Neji nearly stumbled, gripping the wall for support to keep himself upright. His stomach churned with nausea.
'No... that’s not true... I didn’t...'
Tears of rage began to fall before he could stop them. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, but he didn’t care. He had to do something—anything—to silence his mind.
'I’m not weak...' he whispered, his voice fractured.
Of course, you’re not. You never were. You’re strong, Neji. So strong that you allowed your strength to feed them. You’re their most perfect tool, don’t you see? That’s why they’re obsessed with you. That’s why even your enemies hunt you. You’ve always been what they wanted, and now your body—oh, your body—finally reflects what you’ve always been to them: an object. Something to mold. Something everyone can look at, use, and discard.
Neji trembled, the words breaking through his defenses. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block them out, but it only made them louder.
And what about them? Do you think Shikamaru and Shino would see you any differently if they knew what you are now? If they saw you like this? Because, darling, there’s nothing but pity in their eyes. If they look at you, it’s because they can’t help but wonder how someone so strong could fall so low.
'That’s not true!' he shouted, burning with anger.
The echo of his cry filled the room, but there was no response, only silence. Except for the voice. Always the voice.
Go and look them in the eyes. What do you think you’ll see, Neji? Respect? Admiration? No. You’ll see what you’ve always seen: a reminder of how insignificant you are. Because you’re not a hawk in a cage, Neji. You’re nothing. Just a little bird with its wings ripped apart.
He clutched himself tightly, his nails digging into his skin as though the pain could anchor him to something real. His breathing remained erratic, each inhale a monumental effort. He wanted to scream, to run, to disappear.
But he didn’t. Because, though he wouldn’t admit it, there was something about the voice’s words that terrified him more than anything else: part of them rang true.
Panic consumed him.
The voice spoke again, cold and mocking.
Look at you, Neji. A prodigy, a genius... reduced to this. You’re pathetic. What happened to the boy who defied the clan? The one who demanded they activate his seal and kill him because he’d rather die than live as a slave? What happened to him? He disappeared, didn’t he? Just like everything else. Now you’re nothing but a coward.
Neji clenched his teeth, his body trembling with rage and despair. I am not a coward. I am not a coward. It was a futile mantra, a whisper against the deafening roar of the voice in his mind. His body moved before he could stop it, hurling itself against the wall with a dull thud. The pain was immediate, sharp, spreading through his back and shoulder, but it didn’t matter. It has to stop. It has to end.
The impact did nothing. The voice was still there, laughing softly.
Suddenly, he let himself go entirely. His body folded forward, his hand clutching a fistful of his own hair, pulling it back with such force that it felt as if his scalp might tear. But it wasn’t him doing it.
“Leave me alone!” he screamed.
His gaze flickered to the kunai, gleaming and cold, still lying on the floor. Trembling, he picked it up, his fingers wrapping tightly around the handle. He raised it, pressing it toward his own neck. End this. End this now.
Neji lifted his eyes to the wall mirror in front of him. What he saw nearly made the weapon slip from his hand.
The reflection showed a pale, frightening figure, with skin as white as the moon, dark, disheveled hair falling over its face, and white robes that made it resemble an onryō, a vengeful spirit. The eyes in the mirror weren’t his; they gleamed with something dark, something horrendous. The pale irises of the Hyūga clan were gone. In their place was a void, blank and lifeless.
And then, the reflection smiled.
“What... what are you?” Neji whispered, his voice broken and barely audible. But the reflection heard him.
The figure in the mirror tilted its head, as though considering the question. Then, it smiled wider.
I am you, it finally answered, its tone dripping with contempt. I am everything you never wanted to be. I am what they have forced you to become and what you always feared you were. But it doesn’t matter how much you deny me. I am here. I am in you.
The voice seemed to rise from the depths of his mind, a dark echo that reverberated through his bones. The lips of the reflection moved, but Neji couldn’t feel them—because it wasn’t him speaking.
The edge of the kunai drew closer to his skin, reflecting the faint light of the lamp in a flash that almost blinded him. A single tear rolled down his cheek, hitting the floor with a sound that echoed in the silence like a war drum. The burning in his chest intensified, an unbearable pressure pushing him to the edge. Everything he had tried to suppress—the hatred for his body, the guilt, the shame—exploded in that moment, a flood he could no longer contain.
What a beautiful disaster, the other whispered, caressing the cracks in his sanity. What do you think your beloved Shikamaru will say when he sees you like this? Or Shino, with his ridiculous affection for you? Do you think they’ll feel pity? Or will it be disgust that you see in their eyes?
“They don’t matter,” Neji murmured, though his voice lacked conviction. The gods judge me, not men.
Oh, but men judge too. And you know what they’ll say, don’t you? That you’re a monster. That you’re an abomination. Even Hiashi will regret not killing you alongside your father. Maybe that’s why he never looked at you as anything more than a broken pawn.
The hatred rose in his throat like bile. But it wasn’t hatred for Hiashi or the Kimushimaru. It was hatred for himself, for this body that wasn’t his, this treacherous flesh that refused to obey his will. His hands trembled as he gripped the kunai tighter, the cold metal giving him an immediate sense of purpose.
His lips moved without his permission, reciting a fragment of the sacred Getsushidō texts:
"If beneath the light of your lunar god, any fragment of your being reveals shadows of betrayal, cut it out. It is better to purify yourself under the cold light than to be devoured by the darkness within you."
The words flowed from his mouth like a mantra, his mind caught between religious fervor and delirium. This is right. This is what I must do. Cut out the dishonor.
If he removed those grotesque mounds from his chest, if he severed what hung between his legs, if he disfigured that cursed face everyone called beautiful, maybe… maybe he could reclaim a piece of himself. Wasn’t that what the clan wanted? For him to stop being a problem, to stop drawing attention, to stop existing. Perhaps if he removed it all, he could finally disappear.
The reflection in the mirror watched him, pale and distorted, as if it were already gazing at a corpse. His hair fell in chaotic strands, framing a face he no longer recognized, a face that now only mirrored misery and madness. That face, so praised by others, so admired… what had it brought him? Nothing but unwanted gazes, words laced with hidden intentions, desires he didn’t understand and never wanted. He’s beautiful, they said. So perfect, they said.
Fucking liars.
Do it, the Other urged, thrilled by his desperation. Purify yourself. Perhaps the gods will have mercy if you offer them a sacrifice. Perhaps you can be worthy again.
Or do you prefer to remain this filthy, stained thing that no one will ever want?
For a moment, he imagined the cold blade of the kunai sliding over his skin, cutting deep. He imagined tearing apart the flesh that didn’t feel like his, breaking the mask everyone else called beauty. Blood. Pain. Yes, it would be unbearable, but at least it would be real. Pain is purification. That’s what the sacred texts say.
His fingers brushed the edge of the kunai, feeling the cold metal against his skin. It was almost comforting, a reminder that he still had control over something. If he could rid himself of everything that marked him as an aberration, perhaps the gods would forgive him. Perhaps he could even forgive himself.
Cut yourself? Disfigure yourself? Do it and prove to them that you were always right to hate yourself. Prove that you never deserved more than the contempt they gave you.
You are nothing, Neji Hyūga. Just an empty shell. A bird without wings, incapable of flying again. And the worst part is, you know it.
The weight of those words crushed him, sinking him deeper into the darkness of his own mind. For a fleeting moment, he wished the voice would consume him entirely, erase him from existence, release him from his own misery.
Neji clenched his teeth, his entire body trembling. He was on the verge of doing it, of ending everything, of tearing that abomination from himself, when a sharp knock at the door thundered through the room.
“Neji!”
Shikamaru’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The door swung open with force, and before Neji could react, the Nara was there, striding across the room with determined steps. His eyes locked onto Neji’s, then onto the kunai in his hand. In one swift movement, Shikamaru disarmed him.
The kunai fell to the floor with a dull thud, and Neji froze, his body stiff as Shikamaru gripped him firmly by the shoulders.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” demanded Shikamaru, his tone firm but laced with worry.
Neji didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His gaze was fixed on the mirror, where his reflection was still smiling.
Notes:
Alright, first of all, thank you all so much for your comments! :)
Second and most importantly: HAVE YOU ALL REALIZED THAT "BLUE BIRD" IS THE ULTIMATE SHIKANEJI REFERENCE??? Like, it's the song for the arc where even the anime itself jokes about Shikamaru stealing Naruto's spotlight—it's literally HIS arc. But the opening lyrics say something like, "if I could fly, I’d never return," and the whole symbolism of the opening and the song is about this blue bird that would escape as soon as its cage was opened. SOUND FAMILIAR?
Which character, since their very first appearance, has been associated with caged birds and the color blue? (Even though I personally prefer to link him with lilac or purple.) EXACTLY—NEJI HYUGA. So, why a blue bird? If we’re talking about Shikamaru, wouldn’t it make more sense to reference a green deer? OPEN YOUR EYES, PEOPLE. WE CAN’T KEEP LIVING IN DENIAL. THE GOVERNMENT MUST KNOW. SHIKANEJI MUST PROSPER.
Anyway, moving on to the fanfic—has anyone noticed that this whole "Shikamaru is cold, intimidating, and cruel" narrative only comes from Kiba and Shino? Shikamaru, in his own narration, is actually kind of a dork—sarcastic and throwing in funny little observations. His POV and Kiba’s are my absolute favorites to write.
And well, Neji finally realized that the thing talking in his head isn’t him... but at the same time, it is. It’s going to be a messy situation, especially since we’re already in a messy situation where the Leaf seems to be in danger. But from what exactly? Well, we’ll see.
By the way, not sure if it’s been super clear yet, but Sakura is a psychologist here. Just planting the seed that Neji isn’t the only one with head issues in this story.
Alright, see you in the next chapter—stay beautiful!
Chapter 8: The Other
Summary:
Shikamaru goes to the Hyuga family's residence in search of Neji, only to uncover more secrets and riddles than he expected, along with an unexpected ally. After finding the way to reach Neji, a disturbing scene unfolds before his eyes—something so deranged that it pushes him past his own limits, making him believe it is already too late to save him.
Meanwhile, Kiba and Shino argue over the former’s actions and their own relationship. With Ino’s arrival, the truth about what happened that night between Kiba and Neji comes to light, deeply infuriating Shino.
Notes:
It took me longer than expected to finish and publish this chapter. What happened was that I had already made a lot of progress, but then I decided to take things in a different direction and had to delete more than half of it.
Originally, the scene between Shikamaru and Neji was meant to be an intellectual confrontation between Nara and Neji’s other personality, but after thinking it over, I decided to go with the version you see here.
I want to give you all a heads-up because the scene might be a bit uncomfortable for some readers—I even felt a little uneasy writing it myself, so consider this a fair warning.
Also, I think this is the chapter with the most dialogue so far, and I’m slow when it comes to writing conversations, so that also took longer than expected.
Anyway, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Metamorphosis
Chapter 8: The Other
The last few days had been a damn nightmare.
And it wasn’t just because of the fight with Shino or because his investigation had him trapped in a dead end—after combing through every dusty scroll, every record on nomadic clans and communities outside the Leaf, the Kimushimaru remained little more than a footnote in history, with barely any prominence in a minor war—but because what truly had him on edge was Neji.
Neji, who should have been the key piece of this damn puzzle. Neji, who refused to cooperate, to get involved, to be useful.
Shikamaru hated thinking of him in those terms. It disgusted him. But that was how his mind worked—pragmatic, logical, ruthless. And logic told him that Neji was acting like a problem instead of a solution.
The Hyūga seemed like a ghost of himself. There was something… fractured about him. Shikamaru didn’t recognize him. Not in the way he lost track of conversations, how his gaze got stuck on dead points as if he were seeing something no one else could. Not in the way he tensed at the slightest touch, as if his own skin felt foreign. He had gone from being the most composed man he knew—the disciplined genius who executed every order with precision, without unnecessary questions or complaints—to a bundle of unpredictable outbursts.
He had thrown him out of his room, shouting. Out of nowhere. He had yelled at him.
As if everything else wasn’t unpredictable enough, there was also the other matter of Neji—who, according to Lee, was in love with Shikamaru.
As if it wasn’t enough that his investigation was eating him alive. As if it wasn’t enough that something terrible was about to happen and that Neji—damn it—was falling apart at the worst possible moment. No, he also had to deal with the idea of treating him more gently, of being more considerate, of making this mission more than just a duty—something personal. Because now, it was.
He had to deal with the fact that he wanted Neji to trust him, with every fiber of his being, and, more than anything, with the damn irony of finding out about his feelings just now—when his life was in danger, when others threatened to take him away.
At any other time, after Lee’s confession, maybe he would have tried something. Maybe he would have sought Neji out, tried to get closer, to understand him better, to see where it all led. Maybe, just maybe, they could have become something.
The fact that Neji was a boy wasn’t what worried him most. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but it didn’t scare him either. He was open to trying.
Neji was a boy.
Was.
There lay another of his many problems.
The toxin—the Jasei, as he now knew its name—was mutating Neji’s body faster than any of them would have liked. Naruto had been right. Shikamaru had noticed it that very morning, when, unintentionally, he had seen Neji’s breasts. In just one night, they had grown to match Temari’s in size. A detail hard to ignore, ridiculous as it seemed amid the greater disaster.
Saeka had mentioned that the Jasei Toxin didn’t just change the body but also the mind, pushing its victim beyond genetic, psychological, and emotional barriers…
The sacrifice of both body and mind.
And now, he was here, trying to understand what these changes truly meant, what this supposed state of perfection the substance sought to drag Neji into was. And, more than anything, how the fuck to stop it.
When he finished speaking with Saeka Kimushimaru, Shikamaru acted immediately; he ordered the ninjas under his command to spread across the Land of Fire. There was no room for mistakes. He sent Naruto to inform Sasuke, and together, they would consult his old team about Orochimaru’s experiments. Perhaps among the remnants of his sick science, something useful remained. He didn’t have much hope, but ruling out the useless was as valuable as finding the necessary.
Chūnin and Jōnin were sent to the most vulnerable civilian villages, like Yufuin. He couldn’t allow those bloodsucking creatures to become a bigger problem. The priority was to contain them—and if they couldn’t, to exterminate them. He didn’t like surprises, especially when they involved dried-up corpses with bite marks on their necks.
Shikamaru hadn’t had time to interrogate the other prisoner. That task fell to Ibiki, who, before leaving, handed him a brief report: the girl, younger than Saeka, hadn’t provided anything useful. She only cried and babbled, repeating over and over that Lord Seima would be furious, that she had failed him, that she was unworthy of her clan, and other nonsense typical of a fanatic.
But the real problem was closer, right at the core of the village’s politics. He needed to infiltrate the Hyūga clan, uncover what secrets they were hiding, and what those old agreements Saeka mentioned actually stipulated. Shikamaru didn’t believe in coincidences, especially not when they involved an enemy leader’s obsession and dusty documents written by elders too accustomed to playing with people’s lives.
Shino had been clear: during the War of the Lost Islands, Hiashi and Hizashi Hyūga had killed the former leader of the Kimushimaru. Now, his heir had returned with an excessive interest in the clan. Coincidence? Hardly.
No, the attack on Neji hadn’t been random. Everything pointed to a well-orchestrated plan. The only thing left was to uncover the reason. And that, like everything in this damn game, came down to patience, intelligence, and finding the right way to make people talk.
He was sure Saeka knew more than she let on. If she was smart, she would ration the information carefully, handing it out in small doses to make herself indispensable. Today’s interrogation had likely just been a taste.
And lastly, as the least of his problems—but no less annoying—there was that idiot Kiba.
The problem with Kiba was that he himself didn’t seem to know what the fuck he had done.
He had said it outright, but with absolute nervousness: “I don’t remember.”
And Shikamaru had believed him. Not because he blindly trusted Kiba (though he did), but because he knew him well enough to be sure that if he had wanted to lie, he would have done it in a much clumsier way. But that didn’t solve the real mystery—Kiba didn’t remember what he had done, but something had happened to Neji.
Shikamaru had seen the claw marks.
He hadn’t wanted to look. He had tried, damn it. But they were there, fresh, reddish against Neji’s pale skin, a reminder that everything they were facing—the toxin, the experiments, the damn Kimushimaru—was spiraling out of control.
Was that what had happened with Kiba? Had he been himself when he attacked Neji, or had something inside him—something altered, something messed up—taken over? Or was it just Inuzuka Puberty?
The thought didn’t reassure him in the slightest.
Because, damn it, if Kiba had done something sexually inappropriate to Neji—if he had crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, if he had done something that couldn’t be excused with a simple “I don’t remember”—then it wouldn’t matter how many years of friendship they had. He would lock him up.
The moon hung high and pale over the Leaf as Shikamaru made his way toward the Hyūga residence. The night air carried an unsettling silence, as if the village itself were holding its breath.
If what Saeka had said was true, then trusting the Hyūga was becoming too much of a gamble. At least for now. It didn’t surprise him. It wouldn’t be the first time a centuries-old clan hid secrets behind a façade of honor and discipline.
He didn’t like the idea of limiting Neji’s movements. He knew he would get a murderous glare the moment he suggested he should remain under watch, but he didn’t care. Let him growl all he wanted, as long as he was safe.
But as he approached the Hyūga residence, the bad feeling he had carried since the interrogation solidified into certainty.
The entrance to Nevernight was heavily guarded. This wasn’t the usual pair of sentinels with perfect posture and vacant stares who guarded any clan leader’s home. There were additional patrols, stationed in strategic points with a discretion too well-practiced to be mere coincidence.
Shikamaru stopped in the shadow of a tree, crossing his arms as he analyzed the scene.
This was not a usual security measure.
He had been here many times before, even at such late hours, to speak with Hinata or summon Hiashi to a last-minute meeting on the Hokage’s orders. The Hyūga did not require such displays. With their Byakugan, they could see through walls, detect movement beyond their own residence. If the guards were stationed outside, it could only mean they needed to keep watch over something beyond their walls.
What had them so on edge?
Or, more importantly, what in the world were they hiding?
He did not need to get too close to observe them clearly. If anyone asked, he could feign a simple nighttime stroll through the village, like any civilian. Naruto had taught him Jiraiya’s Transparency Jutsu, but Shikamaru had taken it further, combining it with his shadows. Even for a Byakugan, detecting him was no simple feat. To see him, one first had to know he was there. And no one knew he was there.
He lingered for a while, hoping to catch a conversation, some news, or some way to infiltrate—whether by presenting himself at the door with an excuse or finding a way to evade the guards and slip over the walls. Yet he heard nothing. No complaints, no remarks from the Hyūga guards, who, notably, were all from the branch family. Not a single grumble, nor idle chatter. Information-wise, he was at a disadvantage.
He pressed two fingers to his temple for a moment.
He simply wanted to see Neji, to inform him of what he had uncovered in the interrogation and make it clear that his safety now hung by an even thinner thread than they had imagined. And, knowing him, Neji would take it as a personal offense, despite the fact that all he wanted was to prevent him from ending up dead.
With luck, his first real fight of the night would be with him and not with those damned sentinels of his clan.
“Well, well… It’s not every day a Nara wanders so close to these gates.”
The voice came from his right—rough, drawling, carrying the tone of someone who had drunk just enough to lose caution but not his tongue.
Shikamaru turned calmly, unhurried.
First, he saw the long pipe, held between knotted fingers that smelled of tobacco and stale sake. Then, the overly loose robe, the graying hair tied back carelessly. Finally, the face—wrinkled, mocking, wearing a crooked smile that did not match those Byakugan eyes.
Hirokazu Hyūga.
Shikamaru had not had the pleasure of meeting him in person until now, but he knew of him. Not because he had any particular interest in the clan’s genealogy—something he could not care less about—but because a good strategist always knew who was who. Hiashi’s uncle. Great-uncle to Neji, Hinata, and Hanabi. A Hyūga of the old guard, once the clan’s High Priest, though long removed from the spheres of power—far enough to speak too freely without consequence.
And, from the looks of it, drunk enough to do so without even thinking.
“How observant, my Lord. As expected of a Hyūga,” Shikamaru replied with a slight bow.
The old man chuckled under his breath, taking a slow drag from his pipe.
“And such manners… very uncommon for a Nara. Shikaku would have called me ‘damned old man’ as his way of saying good evening and, perhaps, brought some of his finest sake. That man was truly clever.”
“My father knew how to win people over.”
“Indeed. And I am quite certain that your ‘stroll’ is not just a simple stroll. Am I wrong?”
Shikamaru measured him with his gaze. There was no hostility in his voice, only sharp curiosity, wrapped in a haze of sake and smoke. But that did not mean he was not a problem. He was, after all, a high-ranking Hyūga.
“I suppose that depends on how much you saw before I saw you.”
Hirokazu let out a brief, dry laugh, tapping the ash from his pipe with a light flick.
“Ah, now I like you. But not enough to let you wander about without asking questions.”
Shikamaru sighed. If he wanted to get rid of the old man quickly, the best course was to offer a bit of truth—enough to satisfy him, but not enough to compromise himself.
“I came to see Neji.”
The elder did not seem surprised, which in itself was concerning. He merely nodded, as if he had already known.
“I see. And you are in a hurry, are you not?”
“Me? Always in a hurry, my Lord. Not all of us have the luxury of retirement and fine sake.”
“Oh, believe me, boy, retirement is an invention of those who believe time will not catch up to bite their throats. But do not sweeten my ears with trivialities. I do not like being taken for a fool.”
Shikamaru offered a small, calculated smile.
“I would say those who do so do not live long enough to regret it.”
“Look at that, the deer is showing its antlers.”
Hirokazu took one last drag from his pipe before pointing it at him.
“The fledglings whispered it to me, you know? A certain young deer has been poking his barely developed antlers where he shouldn’t.”
Shikamaru felt the weight of those words like a kunai against his skin. He did not look away. He made no movement to betray himself. But he knew—he knew—that this man understood more than he let on.
Danger.
He attempted to steer the conversation away.
“I would hope the fledglings know when to keep silent. Not all ears are kind.”
Hirokazu chuckled softly, but something sharp gleamed in his expression.
“Oh, hawks do not fear fledglings. They fear spiders, beetles, dogs. And other creatures that, though they may not harm them, can steal their prey. Even deer could.”
The air between them grew heavier.
Shikamaru understood the warning instantly. Not only was he being watched, but there were other players on this board that he had yet to see clearly. He did not need to decipher the old man’s words to understand that he was in trouble.
“Curious. I would say hawks should only fear hunters.”
“Ah, Childe Nara… how simple you are. I do not doubt your intelligence,” Hirokazu continued, “but you are still precisely that. A child.”
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
“Is that a compliment or a warning?”
“It is a fact. You have seen war, yes. Death, violence, blood. But you still trust. You trust your village, your government, the very structure of this little world you believe you understand. You still believe in the rules of the game without questioning them.”
Shikamaru felt a slight tension in his jaw, but he did not let it show in his voice.
“And I suppose you, my Lord, have found a way to play without rules.”
“Oh, no. The rules exist. They are simply not where you think they are.”
Hirokazu leaned in slightly, like a hawk measuring the distance before diving.
“Tell me, boy… what is it that you are truly looking for?”
Shikamaru did not respond. It was not worth the effort. The old Hyūga already knew, and so he nodded, satisfied.
“Well, well. You know when to hold your tongue. You are not entirely lost.”
He let out a long sigh, as if the subject bored him.
“You have delved into the old records. Unearthed names that more than one would have preferred remained forgotten. And you did so clumsily… though the other boy, the one from the insect clan, has not fared much better. He, too, has been prowling. Asking questions.”
Shikamaru did not flinch. Of course, he knew. If anyone had uncovered more in this search, it was Shino.
But Hirokazu was not saying that. He was not informing him.
He was testing him.
“I would not call it clumsiness,” he answered calmly. “Merely a difference in methods.”
Hirokazu smirked, with the patience of one who enjoys watching the young stumble over their own mistakes.
“You both believe your curiosity and desperation are of no consequence. But the Hyūga do not only have eyes, boy. We have ears throughout the village. And anyone who seeks to see without listening and without understanding… is lost.”
Shikamaru met the old man’s gaze. It was a warning, of course. But also a lesson.
“So, how many doors do you think you have knocked on without realizing it?”
Shikamaru did not answer immediately. His mind worked swiftly, recalling every record he had consulted, every document he had read. He had not sought information on Konoha’s power structure, nor anything concrete about the most influential clans. He had focused on the Kimushimaru, on Neji, on something useful for both matters alone.
But Hirokazu was not speaking only of the Kimushimaru.
“Ah, there it is,” the old man murmured, amused. “The realization that you have been prowling through a minefield without even noticing the gunpowder beneath your feet.”
Shikamaru remained impassive.
“I do not usually prowl without purpose.”
“No, of course not. But a deer that only looks at what is before its eyes rarely notices the predators lying in wait.”
The air between them grew heavier.
“Tell me, fawn, when you searched for the Kimushimaru, when you ran your fingers over dusty scrolls and asked old archives for the secrets of the past… did you ever wonder why you found nothing?”
Shikamaru’s jaw tightened slightly.
No. No, he had not.
He had assumed the information was scarce because the Kimushimaru were a nomadic clan, a shadow in the history of the Leaf Village, a forgotten remnant. He had assumed he found nothing because there was nothing to find.
But that was not true, was it?
If Hirokazu knew what he had been searching for, then the information existed.
Someone had simply ensured he would not find it.
The old man smiled as he saw the understanding in his eyes.
“Late, but you arrive.”
Shikamaru took a deep breath.
“Am I in trouble?”
Hirokazu let out a brief chuckle.
“That depends on whom you speak to.”
The Nara held his gaze.
“And what do you say, my Lord?”
The elder regarded him with a sharp glint in his eye before taking one last drag from his pipe.
“I say you should be grateful that it was I who found you first. That my fledglings are faster than theirs.”
Shikamaru’s stomach clenched.
Not out of fear.
Out of the certainty that he had gravely misjudged the board, realizing he had just lost a game he did not even know he was playing.
“You seem troubled, Childe Nara,” the old man said carelessly, though there was a studied sharpness in his voice. “Or am I mistaken?”
Shikamaru exhaled through his nose, a brief huff, as if he found the question amusing.
“Why would I be, my Lord? I am having a most enlightening conversation.”
“Oh? How fortunate. I cannot stand dull conversations. And dull deer are the first to be hunted.”
The Nara tilted his head in what might pass for deference, though in truth, he was merely suppressing the urge to curse.
“I suppose that also depends on what kind of hunter is lying in wait.”
Hirokazu smirked wickedly, pipe held between his lips.
“Oh, boy… there are deer that hunt hawks. Dogs that bite deer. Spiders that weave traps for dogs. And beetles, those poor fools, that do nothing but crawl over the carrion left by the rest.”
He held his gaze.
“Tell me, Shikamaru Nara, what are you?”
The irritation in his chest flared like a flame fed with oxygen.
This was a damn interrogation.
The old man was not conversing. He was testing him.
Shikamaru allowed himself a moment of silence. Then, he tilted his head, as if he were truly considering it.
“I would say an observer. Someone who ensures he does not end up in the wrong mouth.”
“Interesting. Though a bit disappointing.”
“Disappointing?”
“Indeed. I had hoped you were something more than that.”
Shikamaru did not take the bait. Not so easily.
“Well, one cannot please everyone, my Lord.”
Hirokazu chuckled under his breath but did not respond immediately.
He was not trying to mock him. He was not trying to humiliate him.
He was searching for something, circling around the matter, waiting for him to slip, to say something that revealed more than he intended.
Shikamaru shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms, appearing relaxed.
“A pity. I suppose I shall have to content myself with watching what you do rather than listening to what you say…” Hirokazu murmured, his tone almost amused.
Shikamaru did not respond.
The old man measured him with the pale eyes of the Byakugan, seeing beyond skin, beyond flesh.
"Whatever it is you're looking for now, you won’t find it here. This is a minefield."
Shikamaru narrowed his eyes.
“Really?"
"Yeah" the old man confirmed calmly. "But… if your deer legs take you near the southeast tower, you might find something more useful."
Nara didn't move, but every fiber of his body tensed in alert.
"What’s in the southeast tower?"
Hirokazu smiled, almost sweetly.
"A hatch in the ground. Old, rusted, hidden from those who don’t know it's there. It connects Nevernight with the Cadge. You’ll have to find hut 1919. No one will see you there. No one will bother you. I give you my word as a Hyūga, though it means nothing. It’s just an old underground storage. Years ago, they used it when the clan was more… how should I put it? More savage. They didn’t want to see servants walking through their gardens, so they made them move below."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.
"Charming."
"Isn’t it? Beautiful traditions. You would love to belong to this noble family."
"I’d be honored."
Hirokazu smiled, but his gaze turned serious.
"If you're going to use it, move quickly and silently. Because if you came all the way here wondering whether you can trust the Hyūga, son… the answer is no."
Shikamaru held his gaze for a moment, thinking that this man was also a Hyūga, then nodded.
"I appreciate the advice."
The old man turned his pipe slightly between his fingers, as if none of it mattered.
"A certain little hawk was sent to bed without dinner. Perhaps the company of a deer will help him fly again."
Neji.
He’s talking about Neji.
Shikamaru didn't let it show on his face, but in his mind, everything was fitting into a different pattern.
Why was he telling him this? Why, after all the wordplay and double meanings, was he suddenly dropping something so direct?
Could he trust him?
No.
Could he ignore it?
Also no.
Shikamaru took a slow breath, controlling the surge of questions flooding his mind. He would take it. Questioning it, analyzing it, but he would take it.
And for the first time in the entire conversation, he felt the ground tilt slightly in his favor.
Not completely. Not entirely. But enough.
Hirokazu held his gaze a few seconds longer. Then, he took one last drag from his pipe and, as he exhaled the smoke, let three more words slip out, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
"Take him away."
Shikamaru didn’t respond. It wasn’t necessary.
He gave a slight nod, a brief, silent bow, before turning on his heels and vanishing into the darkness.
The Hyūga had eyes all over the village, but Hirokazu was right: near the southeast tower, no one was watching. It was easy. Just shadows and silence.
He found the hatch effortlessly, a wooden panel barely distinguishable in the dark. He opened it and descended.
A storage room. Stone walls, the air thick with the scent of dust and stored grain. Barrels lined up like sleeping soldiers, shelves filled with sealed crates. He didn’t stop to look. He crossed the hallway and climbed a narrow staircase.
When he pushed open the hatch on the other side, the humidity of the night air greeted him, along with the sight of a narrow courtyard.
The Cadge.
The complex of the Hyūga’s branch family was discreet, austere, lacking the grandeur of Nevernight, but Shikamaru recognized it. Neji lived here.
It didn’t take long to find hut 1919. He took two steps toward the door, and then he saw it.
The wall shuddered. As if something had struck it from the inside.
Shikamaru froze, sharpening his hearing. Nothing. Not a single sound, but it must have been the way the walls were built.
He frowned and tested the doorknob. Stuck.
He pulled out a kunai and slid it into the latch, forcing it quickly, but it wouldn’t budge. He broke it with a swift motion.
The door swung open.
For an instant, everything stopped.
He lost everything. The cold head. The caution. The stealth. The conversation with Hirokazu, the interrogation, the urgency of the mission, the composure he had cultivated meticulously all his life.
Shikamaru felt his heart skip a beat. His stomach clenched as if he had been punched. A chilling shiver ran down his spine, a primal warning of danger, of something his mind hadn’t yet fully processed.
"Neji!" he shouted.
He didn’t care where he was. He didn’t care about keeping quiet. Or risking his life. Nothing mattered.
He burst inside like a lightning strike, slamming the door wide open.
His eyes absorbed the scene in seconds, reconstructing the disaster with the brutal precision of his analytical mind.
Neji.
The kunai in his hand.
The sharp blade dangerously close to his carotid artery.
The air in the room reeked of blood and fear.
And Neji…
Neji looked like a corpse that hadn’t yet realized it was dead.
His skin, more gray than pale, had a sickly quality, almost translucent under the dim light. His dark circles were deep, sunken, like shadows hollowing out his angular face. His eyes were wide open, but unfocused. The pupils almost imperceptible in the vast whiteness of the Byakugan.
But the worst was his body.
The white robe hung in tatters around his waist, useless. The rest was bare.
And what his skin revealed made something in Shikamaru break.
His breast was strangely pointed, the nipples reddened and erect. The bruises spread in irregular patterns, blue and violet where the skin was still fresh, greenish and yellow where the blood had already started to rot beneath the epidermis. There were claw marks. Nails. Fingers. All fresh, all from today.
Some still red. Others nearly black.
It was violence.
Violence imprinted on every inch of his beautiful body.
Shikamaru felt a raw burn in his throat. Fury stirred inside his chest, dense, uncontrollable, visceral.
And then, he saw the kunai.
The blade pressing against the thin skin of the throat.
He moved.
There was no thought, only action.
He disarmed him in an instant—a simple, almost mechanical gesture. Neji offered no resistance. He didn’t even have the strength to hold the weapon.
The kunai fell with a dull sound onto the wooden floor.
Shikamaru barely heard it.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"
His voice came out louder than he intended. More broken. More terrified. He grabbed Neji by the shoulders, shaking him, but the other didn’t react.
He wouldn’t look at him. His eyes darted erratically, unfocused, as if searching for something they couldn’t find. He wasn’t there.
Shikamaru knew that look.
He had seen it before.
In war. In soldiers who had lost more than they could bear. In comrades delirious from the agony of poison. In shinobi who had watched others die in atrocious ways. In those who, though still breathing, were no longer alive.
"Neji, look at me."
Nothing. Only trembling.
"Shi-Shikamaru—" Neji’s voice was shattered, as if he had been screaming.
Shikamaru felt a wave of relief when he saw him blink a couple of times, focusing on his surroundings. His shadows slid discreetly across the floor and shut the door. He was not a religious man, but he placed all his faith in the Twelve Gods and the Thousand Abysses that no one had heard any of this.
"Shhh… It’s fine, I’m here," he whispered. Neji clung to him. Too tightly. Shikamaru let himself be held. He wasn’t someone who felt comfortable with physical contact, but the Hyuga was shaking. And that was enough.
Still, there was something unsettling in the intimacy of the moment.
A memory. A battlefield.
A young shinobi he didn’t even know, dying in his arms. Legless. No way to stop the bleeding, her eyes wide with pain, her voice growing weaker as she called for her mother, saying she wanted to leave, until she simply stopped speaking. Until she was gone.
And he, powerless to do anything but stay with her until her last breath.
Shikamaru held Neji tighter.
"Shikamaru Nara…" the Hyuga repeated, but his tone carried a note he had never heard before. "Visiting me at this hour…"
The shiver didn’t come until he felt the bite on his earlobe. His mind reacted before his body. Something was wrong.
He tried to push him away gently, but Neji clung even tighter, his grip suddenly firm when it had been weak just moments ago. Shikamaru felt the brush of his skin, the warmth of his breath against his ear, the pressure of his body against his own, the soft touch of newly formed breasts against his arm. A deliberate touch.
Shikamaru shuddered, and it had nothing to do with fear.
The only thing he could think was that Neji would never do something like this.
He didn’t know much about him personally, but he knew his nature. He was reserved, stoic, meticulous. He wasn’t someone who sought physical contact—he avoided it like the plague. He was the kind of person who seemed destined to die without ever letting anyone touch him with true intimacy. Brushing against someone, much less in this way, simply wasn’t something he did.
This didn’t feel like Neji.
"What do you think you’re doing?" he asked, his voice steady.
Neji laughed—a light, elegant laugh. A laugh Shikamaru had never heard before.
And he kept rubbing against him.
"What’s wrong? Are you afraid you’ll like it?"
This was definitely not Neji.
Shikamaru didn’t pull away. He didn’t frown, didn’t show his confusion. He didn’t reveal his arousal, nor his anger, though he could feel both burning beneath his skin.
Neji’s hand trailed along his jawline with calculated slowness, tracing down his neck to his chest. His fingertip drew slow circles over his collarbone, as if marking territory. Shikamaru felt his warm breath against his skin—first at his ear, then his cheek. A low, sultry chuckle vibrated between them, accompanied by the faint glisten of slightly parted lips, red under the dim light.
In his years as a shinobi, he had faced women trained in the art of seduction—kunoichi who used their beauty as a weapon, their velvet voices as bait, and their bodies as a lethal distraction. Shikamaru had always known how to neutralize them without even breaking a sweat. Without hesitation. Without feeling anything that could betray him—nothing that anyone would blame him for feeling. After all, he was a man. Only indifference. Only acting. Letting them believe they had him caught in their web until, in the end, they were the ones ensnared.
This was different. This did stir something in him, and that something annoyed him.
"Neji, stop. I don't know what you're trying to do, but enough. Now." His voice was not as firm or convincing as he had intended.
"What I'm trying to do?" Neji's voice was unrecognizable. It was not the expressionless tone of the Hyūga he knew, nor the contained tremor of someone broken. It was something playful, almost mocking. "I don't know, Shikamaru. What do you think?"
Before the Nara could answer, Neji closed the distance between them with an agile, almost predatory movement. Shikamaru froze for an instant, and that instant was all Neji needed to take his face between his hands and kiss him.
Desperately. Hungrily. And, as if that weren't enough, he lifted a leg to wrap it around Shikamaru’s, a gesture more fitting for a prostitute from the Trench—the Hidden Leaf’s red-light district—than for a noble Hyūga.
Neji was not well. Neji had not been well since the first day Shikamaru visited him in the hospital. Distant. Distracted. Hiding something. Suppressing something. Shikamaru had already reached that conclusion long before tonight.
Saeka had confirmed that the Jasei Toxin was not only changing his body—this much was now clear. But if he had wondered how it was affecting his mind, he now had an answer.
He was starting to connect the dots.
The shame on Neji’s face, his refusal to see anyone. The way he avoided certain looks, his eyes lost in something remembered with horror, his distracted demeanor, what he had left unsaid that time. Kiba’s evasiveness and that infamous “I don’t remember.” The marks on his body. The signs had all been there, and now everything made sense.
Somehow… Neji was initiating himself into sex. And, from the looks of it, not very well.
It wasn’t that he cared, nor was it jealousy—Perhaps a little. Maybe. But the fact that all of this was happening just as an external agent was mutating him from within, altering not just his body but his behavior, making it something so lascivious, so… needy... No. It wasn’t right.
For a second, Shikamaru didn’t know how to react. An electric heat ran down his spine, pooling in his abdomen and tightening in his groin. A damn erection—just what he needed. A treacherous, involuntary, physical reflex. But the voice of reason shouted louder.
This was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Even though he knew Neji liked him, and he himself didn’t entirely mind the situation, giving in to this would be a mistake from which there would be no turning back. A mistake that would make him hate himself and, worse, make Neji hate him.
However, his ability to adapt quickly took control. His need for information was stronger, driving him to take the reins of the situation, to move his opponent onto terrain that gave him the advantage.
Instead of pulling away, he tilted his head slightly, returning the kiss with a calm he did not feel. In his mind, the evaluation continued—the movements, the pressure, the slight tremor in the other’s body. It was all Neji. No doubt about it. But it was also all wrong.
It was strange, even uncomfortable. But… not unpleasant.
Finally, Shikamaru moved his tongue against Neji’s, slowly, as if testing the waters. It wasn’t a gesture of passion but a calculated move, a deliberate action to see how Neji would react. And as he had expected, Neji unraveled.
They parted just a fraction, enough to look into each other’s eyes. The confidence Neji had displayed moments before seemed to waver, his pupils dilated, his breath unsteady. Shikamaru held him by the shoulders, studying his face with an intensity that would have intimidated anyone. But not the person before him.
"You know," Shikamaru began with his usual sarcasm, "if you wanted to kiss me, there are less dramatic ways to do it. A suicide attempt as a prologue isn’t necessary."
"What... are you doing?" Neji asked, but his voice no longer held the teasing tone it had before.
"That should be my question. Is this some kind of joke, or are you just getting carried away?"
Neji smiled. He took the piece of cloth still hanging around his waist and removed it slowly, now standing completely bare. As if offering himself.
"Is that what you’d like?"
"What I’d like is to understand what, in the Thousand Abysses, you were trying to accomplish with that kiss."
"Should I write 'Fuck me' on my forehead? Is it really that hard for you to pick up on simple flirting?" Neji said with a mocking laugh, placing a hand on his hip. His breast moved with the gesture.
Shikamaru forced himself to ignore the first comment with all his might.
"I don’t know." He met Neji’s gaze. It was a game—if he looked at his body, he lost. "Maybe it is, coming from someone who has always treated physical contact like an unwanted curse."
Neji’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Oh, come on, Nara. Look at me, I’m becoming a beautiful woman. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting you to touch me a little~"
"No, you don’t want that," Shikamaru said, smiling—but not kindly.
Neji didn’t react immediately, but his jaw tensed just slightly.
"Tell me, did you expect me to play along and grope you? Or to freeze up like some impressionable fool?"
"I expected you to be a man," Neji answered, still wearing that smug little smirk.
Shikamaru let out a brief, emotionless chuckle. It was like arguing with Ino and her childish provocations.
"Did that work with the others?"
The silence lasted only a second. But that was enough.
The way Neji looked at him, that sharp gleam in his eyes, something that resembled contempt far too closely—it was all the confirmation he needed.
It had been a risky gamble to say "the others" since he was only certain about Kiba.
And yet, there it was—the crack. Good. He had something. Who were the others? He would find out.
Shikamaru narrowed his eyes, almost amused.
"Ah, I see. So it did work."
Neji lifted his chin, defiant.
"Does that bother you?"
"No. It intrigues me." Shikamaru tilted his head, feigning genuine curiosity. "I wonder how many there were. And, more importantly, why you want me to fall just like they did."
More silence. Neji was like a cat watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
However, the seductive smile and defiant eyes from a moment ago vanished, replaced by something else—something that looked almost… sad. Vulnerable.
It was such a sudden change that even for someone like him, used to reading people as if they were an open book, it was disconcerting.
"Shikamaru..." Neji said, his tone losing its sharpness. It was soft, almost trembling. "Forgive me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me."
Shikamaru said nothing, his dark eyes fixed on Neji, trying to dissect every word, every movement.
"It’s just that..." Neji continued, lowering his gaze and playing with his hair—a gesture entirely uncharacteristic of him. "Sometimes I feel like I’m alone. So alone. I have no one, and... you’ve always been so smart, so sure of yourself. Always so... attractive."
It was an act. He knew it. He had learned to recognize those small cracks in people, those moments when they tried to turn the board in their favor. But this time, it wasn’t just that; there was something darker, something deeper at play.
"And now you expect me to pity you?" he asked.
He didn’t like speaking to Neji this way, not at all, but he had no other choice.
Neji lifted his gaze toward him, and for an instant, it seemed as if a tear would slip down his cheek. He would be lying if he said it did nothing to him, but he had to stay cold. He still didn’t know what kind of ground he was stepping into.
"I don’t want your pity, Shikamaru. I just want you to see me."
"I do," he finally said, his voice low, almost soft. "But am I sure of whom I’m seeing? What’s wrong, Neji? How can I help you?"
The question seemed to strike him, his eyes widening slightly, his breath quickening. And that was when it happened.
That was when everything went to hell.
And for the first time in a long while, Shikamaru didn’t know what to do.
Neji tensed all of a sudden, as if something inside him had snapped with a dry, invisible crack. His body convulsed in a violent spasm, and the mask he had worn until that moment crumbled in the blink of an eye. His face twisted in pure anguish, his skin grew even paler, and for a fleeting instant, Shikamaru saw something in his expression—a shadow, a reflection of something he couldn’t identify, but which made his skin crawl.
"Stop it! Please, stop!" Neji suddenly screamed. The hands that had once tried to touch him with provocation now clutched desperately at his own hair, pulling as if trying to tear something from his head.
"Neji…" Shikamaru took a step forward, his heart pounding at the unexpected outburst.
"Shut up!" Neji screamed again, though it wasn’t clear to whom he was speaking. His eyes were unfocused, as if he were seeing something else, something Shikamaru couldn’t perceive. "Don’t do it, you can’t, you mustn’t!"
Suddenly, he lost his balance, stumbling backward and crashing against the wall as though something had pushed him. His hands trembled, clawing at his own skin, trying to rid himself of something invisible that tormented him.
Shikamaru felt his own breath grow erratic. Every fiber of his being told him to do something, to stop him, but his mind was still trying to process what he had just witnessed.
"Who are you talking to?" he asked cautiously, searching for a way into the delirium.
But then Neji began to murmur, barely a whisper, his voice fractured by panic.
"This isn’t happening. No… it can’t be. No… it mustn’t, it can’t… it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…"
Shikamaru frowned, his mind piecing things together, but what emerged made no sense. He stepped forward, raising a hand carefully, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal.
"Neji, please, calm down. You need to breathe."
"Don’t touch me!" Neji screamed, slamming himself against the wall again, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. His breathing was erratic, one gasp after another, his chest rising and falling at an alarming pace. "—This is immoral. It’s… it’s wrong. It’s a sin. A filthy, damned thing!"
Shikamaru couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine. This was something like that time Neji had yelled at him in the hospital, but this was different. This was worse. This wasn’t bottled-up rage or accumulated frustration—it was something broken, something that had suddenly shattered.
"She’s taking it from me." Neji’s voice broke at the end of the sentence, his nails digging into the skin of his arms as if trying to erase something only he could feel. "Shikamaru… you shouldn’t… you never should have…"
He stepped closer, trying to anchor Neji to reality with all the gentleness he could muster.
"Shouldn’t have what, Neji? Can you explain it to me?"
The white eyes shut tightly, his grip on his arms tightening, his skin reddening under the pressure of his own nails.
"You were never supposed to see this part of me," he whispered. His voice was laden with shame, with self-loathing. "What I feel for you… it wasn’t supposed to be tainted. That… she… she made it dirty."
Shikamaru felt something cold seep into his bones, but he didn’t let any of it show—the alarm that was beginning to rise within him.
"Neji, I don’t know who you’re talking about, but this… what you’re feeling right now… it’s not your fault."
"It is!" Neji screamed. "She was faster… She… The shadows let her in, the beetles saw her, the stone covered her, but she’s still here. She… she kissed you. I saw it! From inside! And I couldn’t stop her!"
Shikamaru felt the air in the room grow heavier, while everything around him started to lose sense. It felt like a nightmare. He observed every detail—every tremor in Neji’s fingers, every involuntary spasm in his body.
The Hyuga slowly collapsed onto the floor, his trembling hands clutching his knees to his chest.
Shikamaru remained still, knowing that any sudden movement could make things worse.
"She… she’s taking everything from me. My mind, my body… even you."
She.
Not Neji.
She.
Shikamaru recalled Saeka’s words, her enigmatic tone as she spoke of the sacrifice of mind and body. The connection struck him like lightning.
Was this what the Kimushimaru wanted? To implant something inside Neji, something that would slowly replace him?
To begin with, what in Thousand Abysses did she mean by "erasing the barriers of the human mind"? The emotional ones, the mental ones… What’s left of a person when those barriers are removed? How does someone act when stripped of their own limits?
Shikamaru could no longer ignore it. He wasn’t qualified to deal with this.
Neji wasn’t talking about a crisis, or a hallucination, or a genjutsu.
He was talking about an invasion. A possession.
Was there something else inside him? A "she"?
He wasn’t sure what was more terrifying—the idea that something was slowly taking over Neji’s mind… or the possibility that, if that were the case, it was already too late to stop it.
"Neji… who is she?"
"An Amanojaku."
Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. The term sounded familiar, but only vaguely.
"A demon?" he ventured.
Neji shook his head, frantically enough that his disheveled hair flailed over his face.
"… spirit… parasite… liar. She corrupts me. She hides in the skin… rotten… in the bones… the insects of carrion… the old blood. She hides in breath, in the tongue. She whispers, she drags me, she pushes me away from them… far, far… far from myself."
His voice trembled, rising and falling in tone, murmuring, completely incoherent.
"Them?"
"The Twelve," he murmured, knocking his forehead against his knees. "They see me. They know, they know I have failed."
“The Twelve… “ Shikamaru repeated, as if saying it aloud might make sense of it. “The Lunar Gods?”
Neji nodded so forcefully that he swayed and collapsed to one side.
“It’s a trial” he whispered, his nails digging into the tatami. “Like dead flesh beneath the sun… insects in an open belly. I should have resisted. I should have been strong. What they did to my body. What they did to my mind. The pills… the corruption, the impurity… And her… she’s pulling me away… away from the house… from the stone…”
“The stone house?”
Neji swayed slightly.
“Not the house… the Stone. The Clan’s Stone, the one that weighs upon us all, the one that crushes us, molds us, buries us.”
His body trembled, his words spilling out in senseless waves, as if his mind were shattering into pieces and each was speaking separately.
“It’s a judgment, a test. It’s for the blood of bastards and broken sons. I shouldn’t have said yes. I shouldn’t have touched, shouldn’t have felt, but I couldn’t stop myself… And it felt so good! It felt so good!”
He began to sob, loudly, as if the most horrible thing in the world had happened. He shook his head in regret. Then, still curled up on the floor, naked, Neji spread his legs and…
He began to touch himself, right in front of Shikamaru.
“By the Gods, Neji” the Nara murmured, frozen in place.
Neji gasped as he continued to mutter incoherently. His breast rose and fell with his ragged breathing, and in that position, Shikamaru could see the various scars and cuts between his legs. On his thighs, on the skin around his penis.
He swallowed hard. He had never felt so… terrified.
“Ah… The shadows of the deer. The… Ngh… The shadows of those who watch from above and think they won’t be devoured. The beetles knew, but I told them to be quiet! The dogs smelled it… Aaah… they smelled the flower… they smelled the flesh…! Nhh…!”
“Stop, please.”
But Neji wasn’t listening.
Shikamaru was on the verge of collapse. His legs trembled, his mind worked at a frantic pace, desperately searching for a way to pull Neji out of his trance, to find a strategy, to do something. He just had to think… think, damn it. But nothing came. And the frustration of his own helplessness was the worst of it.
Neji’s moans and gasps filtered into his ears like poison, drilling into his brain, igniting a fire, a stirring deep inside him that, now more than ever, he had to suppress. But he was just a man. Just a boy, as Hirokazu had said. And he still had those damned impulses.
Neji was giving him a pitiful spectacle. And Shikamaru felt repulsive for himself because, despite everything, his body was reacting.
He shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself to regain control. To use his damned genius mind to do the right thing.
He barely had time to process the second kiss. The Hyuga gave him no chance. His grip was firm, almost demanding, his fingers clutching at the fabric of his clothes as if afraid he might slip away. His lips moved against his with a desperation that bordered on frantic, searching, demanding, as if in that kiss he could find something he had been losing.
The kiss was neither soft nor measured; it was chaotic, burning, almost violent, as if Neji were both searching for something in him and trying to lose himself at the same time. Every movement was a pressing demand, every breath hitched with the friction of their lips, and his fingers clutched at his clothes and tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, wanting more.
“Please, Shikamaru… I need you… I want you…” Neji began to murmur as he pulled away just enough, gripping his bruised wrists “ I want all of you… I want you inside, I want you over me, I want you in the shadows, I want it among the beetles.”
“Don’t do this to me, Neji, for the Gods…”
They kept struggling, with Neji persistently trying to resume the kisses, as if he wanted to consume him.
They both ended up on the floor again.
“Give me everything, down to the bones. Until only remains are left” the Hyuga continued to rave as he straddled Shikamaru’s lap, grinding against him.
His hands were pressed against the Nara’s chest, using it as leverage to move his hips faster.
The Gods knew that, under different circumstances, at another time, he would never refuse a naked, sex-hungry Neji Hyuga.
He knew he could end this with a simple hand seal or a well-placed strike to an important nerve; in truth, he was torn between his desire not to harm Neji in any way and the undeniable fact that Shikamaru was enjoying this.
How disgusting. How sick he felt.
Neji’s fingers trailed up to his jaw, brushing his lips with his thumb, pressing gently against the skin beneath them.
“The deer rot in the forest, the larvae devour them from the inside, leaving only empty skin and clean bones… that’s what the beetles do, what the insects do, what Shino does.”
The name of his fellow shinobi hit him like a bucket of cold water. He remembered Shino, the investigation, the Kimushimaru, and everything suddenly snapped into place, as if something in his brain reassembled itself, reawakening his survival instincts.
Then he stopped holding Neji’s waist (when had he even placed his hands there?) and formed hand seals to activate his Shadow–Neck Binding Technique. Not to hurt him, of course, but to restrain his arms and push him away.
Neji didn’t seem to notice. His gaze remained vacant, his murmurs disjointed, barely audible.
“Shino saw it first. He saw the rotting flesh, made the crack in the stone, saw what the clan hides in the tunnels… and the bodies they never buried.”
Shikamaru took a deep breath, regaining his composure. He had been dangerously close to falling, to giving in to his lowest impulses.
“The Hyūga are stone, but stone crumbles. The beetles know. They chew it. They bury it…”
The Nara exhaled slowly. He couldn’t keep this up any longer.
He stepped forward, moving slowly, almost cautiously, and approached Neji. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to comfort him with empty words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around him and held him against his chest, feeling the tremors running through his body.
The Hyuga tensed at first, as if about to push him away, but he didn’t. He stayed.
“The shadows… the shadows… they tangle around weak bodies, trap them, squeeze them, rot them…” he whispered, but this time his voice sounded sadder, more frightened. As if he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, as if he were trying to tell him something else.
Shikamaru closed his eyes for a second. Then, with a subtle movement of his shadows, he let his chakra flow gently, invading the other’s body with the precision of someone who knew exactly which threads to pull to make everything go dark.
Neji tried to give him one last kiss, moving close to his face, their noses brushing together.
“…Split me open…”he murmured. Shikamaru felt his breath against his own. He saw his eyes, glassy like a doll’s, but completely white, as if someone had forgotten to paint the iris and the pupil.
He couldn’t bring himself to return the kiss.
“…and tell me what you see inside…”
He felt it when Neji gave in, when his breathing slowed, when his body finally lost its tension and fell into unconsciousness.
There was no other way.
With a quiet sigh, he adjusted him in his arms and lifted him with ease.
He didn’t know how many times Neji had fallen.
But this time, it wasn’t just his body that collapsed.
And Shikamaru wasn’t sure he could lift him.
----
Fucking Shikamaru. Of all the ways he could have handled this, he had to choose the most humiliating one.
Kiba snorted, moving his wrists only to remember—again—that yes, he was still chained to the damn aluminum table. The thick, cold metal pressed against his skin, a pair of shackles securing his arms and legs as if he were a war criminal and not an elite shinobi. As if he were going to escape. Because he could. If he really wanted to, he could have broken free ages ago. A simple substitution jutsu and goodbye to this "custody" bullshit.
But he hadn’t done it because running would have been cowardly.
And he had already tried, in the first place.
The worst part wasn’t the chains.
The worst part was knowing they weren’t really there to restrain him.
They were there to mess with him.
Because that was just how twisted Shikamaru Nara was. And he hadn’t just cuffed him—he had also left Akamaru as his personal guard, as if he needed anyone else to remind him that he had fucked up.
The dog sat beside him, posture firm, back straight, chest puffed out as if he were a soldier on duty. Ultimate betrayal. Kiba clicked his tongue and frowned at him.
"Seriously?"
Akamaru didn’t even look at him.
"First, you lead Shikamaru straight to my hideout! Then, you follow his orders like he’s your new master! And now this! What’s next, huh? Are you gonna bring me a water bowl every time the Nara asks you to?"
The dog let out a low growl—not a warning, but a reproach. Kiba got the message.
"Oh, of course! Now I’m the bad guy!"
Akamaru stared at him, and Kiba felt a shiver of indignation because, of course, he could read that damn look.
"You are."
"You’ve got to be kidding me…" he muttered, running a hand down his face, but Akamaru just huffed and turned his back on him with disdain, as if the discussion wasn’t even worth his time.
A pang hit Kiba’s chest.
"Hey…" he tried, his voice losing some of its anger. "Are you really that mad at me?"
Absolute silence. Akamaru didn’t even flick an ear in his direction.
"Are you going to ignore me all night?"
Nothing.
"Even if I promise I won’t do anything stupid again?"
The dog turned his head slightly and looked at him with pure skepticism, as if evaluating just how much of an idiot his owner was. Kiba felt his eye twitch when he recognized the same look Shikamaru gave him whenever he asked stupid questions.
"For fuck’s sake, Akamaru, at least give me a chance to lie!"
The growl he got in response was short, dry, irritated.
Kiba let his head fall back against the wall and sighed, frustration building in his chest.
"Alright, alright, I admit it! Yeah, I fucked up! But it’s not like I knew what I was doing!"
Akamaru growled again, lower this time, with a note of disappointment that felt worse than any words.
Kiba looked away.
"…You knew, didn’t you?"
He wasn’t expecting an answer. But he didn’t need one.
Because Kiba already knew the truth. He had known from the moment he saw Akamaru lower his ears when Shikamaru stared him down, from the instant his dog, instead of hiding him, had given him away. From the moment he stopped licking his face when he was trying to comfort himself and instead just looked at him with something that resembled sadness.
"So that’s how it is…" he let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You won’t forgive me until I get what I deserve, huh?"
Akamaru didn’t bark, didn’t growl, didn’t move.
But Kiba understood the answer anyway.
"Not until you do the right thing."
"Some best friend of man you are," he muttered, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes, with the sinking feeling that Akamaru wasn’t watching him just because Shikamaru had ordered him to, but because he knew someone had to.
"This is just to humiliate me, isn’t it?" Kiba asked aloud, not directing the question at anyone in particular.
From the other end of the room, amid scalpels, preservative jars, and the metallic stench of coagulated blood, Shino didn’t lift his gaze from the corpse laid open on the autopsy table.
"Yes," he answered neutrally, without malice, without mockery—just stating a fact.
Kiba clenched his teeth.
"Fuck…"
"Shikamaru knows you’re honorable enough not to escape," Shino continued, with the same surgical calm with which he pressed a scalpel into the exposed flesh of the dead. "So yes, he did it to humiliate you."
Kiba let out a brief, sarcastic laugh and leaned his head back against the chair. Of course he did. The only comfort was that soon he’d be out of here—he just had to wait for Ino to come and dig through his head. An unpleasant thought, but a necessary one. He couldn’t keep dealing with uncertainty.
He glanced at the body on the table. Pale skin, almost translucent. Withered. As if it had been drained from the inside out. One of the corpses attacked by those things. If that heap of flesh still resembled a human being and not a dried-out sack of taut skin over bones, maybe he would have vomited or frozen in fear. Luckily, that wasn’t the case. It barely had a shape.
Still, it made his stomach turn, so he looked away.
"Hey…" he murmured, not moving much. "You haven’t asked me what I did."
Shino continued his work.
"No."
Kiba swallowed.
"You don’t care?"
The sound of the scalpel being placed on the metal tray was clean, surgical.
"I do."
Just two words. Cold. Sharp.
Kiba felt a knot tightening in his chest. But Shino wasn’t finished.
'The very idea that you might have done something to Neji infuriates me,' he said, without raising his voice, without drama, with the same serenity he would use to explain a biological phenomenon. 'In fact, I want to hit you.'
The knot in his chest tightened further. Kiba remained silent. Because a part of him expected Shino to say something like, 'I know you didn’t do it,' 'There must be an explanation,' or at least, 'I’ll wait to hear your side.' But no. Shino believed him capable. And that hurt more than the shackles around his wrists.
'Then…' he murmured. 'Why don’t you?'
For the first time in the entire conversation, Shino looked at him. His glasses reflected the operating room light, making it impossible to see his eyes.
'Because giving in to impulses is primitive.'
He picked up a syringe, extracting fluid from the corpse’s lungs as if the conversation didn’t affect him in the slightest.
'I’d rather wait for Ino to dig through your head,' he continued. 'And let an impartial perspective tell us, in detail and with objectivity, what really happened.'
Kiba looked away. His throat burned, because if Shino was already this angry without knowing the truth, what would he do when he found out?
'Damn, you can be such a bastard sometimes,' he muttered, letting out a humorless laugh. 'You don’t even try to hide it.'
'Why should I?' Shino picked up a pair of forceps, examining the texture of the corpse’s lung. 'I don’t trust what you might tell me right now. You said it yourself, you don’t remember anything.'
Kiba felt the weight of the air between them, as if the room itself knew there was something inside him about to break.
'So what? Is this how it’s going to be?' he snapped. 'If it turns out I did something really fucked up, are you just going to erase me from your life like I never existed? Or are you going to beat the shit out of me?'
Shino, as always, took his time before answering.
'I don’t know.'
That was it. I don’t know.
'That’s all?' Kiba pressed, his disbelief bordering on anger. 'You don’t know? After everything we’ve been through?'
'I don’t make decisions without information,' Shino replied, without a shred of doubt.
Kiba felt an immediate urge to punch something, anything. Shino and his damn way of seeing the world, like everything was a mathematical equation where feelings had no place.
'Shit, Shino, sometimes it’s like you don’t care about anything.'
'Incorrect.'
The response was quick, direct, without the slightest hesitation.
'I care about many things.'
'Oh yeah? Like what?' Kiba clenched his teeth.
Shino didn’t flinch.
'My clan. My insects.'
Silence.
'Neji.'
Kiba felt the name like a punch to the gut.
'And me?'
Silence. Dense. Unbearable. Sharper than any insult Shino could have thrown at him. Kiba’s stomach twisted with a feeling he didn’t want to name. Frustration, anger, disappointment, pain. Something close to sadness, though he’d never admit it out loud.
He let out a dry, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.
'Damn, you really are a bastard, you know that?'
'Yes,' Shino replied, unbothered. 'And you’re an idiot.'
'I don’t need you to tell me twice.' He shook his head, rubbing his face with both hands.
'Then why do you keep expecting me to say something different?'
Kiba let his head fall against the back of the chair.
'Because I want you to see me as your friend, damn it.'
Shino tilted his head slightly, almost as if he were considering his words, but when he finally responded, he did so without emotion.
'You are my teammate.'
Not friend.
Teammate.
Kiba felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.
'Fuck…' he murmured, lowering his head. 'Honestly, I’d rather you just hit me and get it over with.'
Shino didn’t respond immediately. Then, with the same precision he applied to every movement, he said:
'If I find out you hurt Neji, I will.'
It wasn’t a threat, nor a warning—it was a statement. A fact. Shino didn’t raise his voice, didn’t get angry, didn’t show the restrained fury anyone else would have. He simply said it, with that cold logic that made him more terrifying than anyone else.
Kiba felt fear coil around his spine because he knew his teammate.
And Shino never said anything he wasn’t willing to do.
He forced himself to swallow, his throat dry as the damn desert.
'Is he really that important to you?'
Shino blinked, just barely perceptible.
'Yes.'
Kiba felt something burn in his chest. He couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t just guilt. It wasn’t just the fear of what Ino might find in his head. It was the bitterness of knowing that after all these years by Shino’s side—after missions, wars, nearly dying together more times than he could count—Shino had never considered him as important as he considered Neji.
And the worst part was that Kiba didn’t understand why.
Because Neji was an asshole.
An arrogant, stuck-up bastard. A Hyūga from the branch family who thought he was better than everyone else, with his noble manners and the way he looked at people like they were ants beneath his feet.
Kiba despised him. But Shino didn’t. He protected him, defended him, loved him. That made it all so much worse.
Kiba felt a hollow pit in his stomach, like he was about to be sick.
'I hope, with every fucking fiber of my being, that when Ino looks into my head… she finds nothing.'
There was an awkward silence before Kiba decided to break it the only way he knew how—by being an asshole.
'You know what’s the most fucked-up part of all this?'
He didn’t expect an answer. But he got one.
'Enlighten me.'
"I've been pestering you for months to admit that you like Neji," he blurted out with a bitter smile. "And when you finally show it, it's because you want to kill me."
Shino didn’t flinch. He didn’t react, didn’t change his expression, didn’t say a word. But Kiba knew how to read him; even though his face remained impassive, his hands were tense on the table, gripping the scalpel tighter than necessary. And that was the only answer Kiba needed.
After half an hour of uncomfortable silence, the doors of the operating room burst open.
"I'm here, damn it! It's midnight, and I'm exhausted, so this better be important!" Ino stormed in, her steps firm, still covered in dust and traces of her recent mission, adrenaline flickering in her eyes.
Sakura followed behind with a sigh, less agitated but visibly tired.
"Calm down," she murmured. "Just lower your voice."
Ino shot her a sharp look.
"Lower my voice? Do you have any idea what it took for me to get here on time? And I can't even talk about my mission because it's classified. This better be just as serious."
Kiba let out a dry laugh from his chair.
"Depends on who you ask."
The autopsy room reeked of coagulated blood and chemicals. The air was thick and heavy, and the corpse on the table made the scene even more macabre than it already was. Ino frowned, uncomfortable.
"For the Twelve Gods, I hate this place…" Sakura muttered, covering her nose with her sleeve.
"There’s no worse place to get inside someone’s head than one where they're cutting open a dead body," Ino complained, making no effort to hide her irritation. "Is that it? You want me to use my jutsu on a corpse?"
Shino placed the scalpel down on the tray of instruments without lifting his gaze.
"No. We're finished here. We can leave."
Ino narrowed her eyes and scanned the room. She wasn’t particularly empathetic—at least not without using her jutsu—but even she could feel that something was off. Her gaze moved from Kiba, who looked as tense as a cornered animal, to Shino, whose posture was as composed as ever… but there was something in the way his hands remained at his sides, fingers slightly curled.
Sakura, who was always quicker at picking up these things, was more direct.
"What's going on?"
Kiba scoffed, slumping further into his chair.
"What's going on is that they’re about to dig through my head, and the only one excited about it is Shikamaru."
"And where is Shikamaru?" Ino asked with a frown.
"I don’t know, and I don’t care," Kiba answered immediately. "We can do this without him."
Ino gave him a sidelong glance, sizing him up.
"Are you sure you want to do this now?"
"Yes. I don’t need Shikamaru’s approval." His gaze flickered briefly toward Shino. "The only opinion that matters to me is his."
Shino didn’t react. He made no gesture, no expression, not even the slightest change in his blinking. But Kiba knew he had heard him.
Sakura and Ino exchanged one of those glances women shared far too often—a silent dialogue that meant a thousand things Kiba would never understand.
"Alright," Ino sighed, turning on her heel. "Let’s move to an interrogation room."
They left the room one after the other, Kiba following behind them. Shino was the last to move, lingering in the doorway for a second longer.
The interrogation room was narrow, its gray, cold walls absorbing the sound. The metallic table at the center reflected the overhead light, creating a clinical, impersonal atmosphere.
Sakura took the lead, exuding the calm professionalism she always had when dealing with a patient.
"If at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, just say so," she said, her tone firm but kind. "We're here to help, not to judge."
Kiba shifted in his chair, uneasy.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."
Shino remained standing in a corner, arms crossed, his glasses as opaque as ever. Ino, on the other hand, was right beside him and turned to look at him.
"Shino, what, in Thousand Abysses, happened?"
Kiba scoffed, cutting in before the bug master could open his mouth.
"The same thing I already said: I woke up without remembering anything, and I have the awful feeling that I did something I shouldn’t have with someone I shouldn’t have. Now you’re going to get into my head and see how big of a mess it is. End of story."
Ino raised an eyebrow, and Sakura sighed, but neither argued.
"Alright, then let's begin," Ino said.
She placed two fingers on Kiba's forehead, and after extending her jutsu, Sakura did the same.
"Remember, if anything feels wrong, let us know," Sakura repeated.
"Yeah, yeah, just do it."
Chakra flowed between them, and in an instant, the room disappeared from Kiba’s sight.
His memories, unreadable as if a pink haze had settled over them, began to stir wildly.
The memory hit like a shard of glass driven under his nails.
The scent came first.
Thick, musky, soaked in something sickeningly sweet. Honey boiling in his throat, that cloying sweetness seeping into every crack of his consciousness, tangling in his brain like thorny vines. He didn’t just smell it. He felt it. Clinging to his skin, burrowing into his veins, pressing against his chest as if someone had cracked open his ribcage and poured molten honey into the empty space. He could smell it from outside the hospital, through the concrete walls, calling him with invisible, sticky fingers.
It wasn’t his will that led him there—it was instinct.
His body moved before his mind, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, like a dog drawn to the scent of fresh blood.
The hospital.
White, cold walls. The sterile scent of antiseptic failing to mask the intoxicating fragrance that lured him in.
And Neji.
He found him there, asleep on the bed like a broken doll, wrapped in a gown far too thin, his long hair spilling over his shoulders. His skin was pale—too pale. His lips had a damp sheen, as if he had just drunk something. His breathing was uneven, but not like someone who was sick.
More like someone… waiting.
Like he had been waiting for him.
Or at least, that’s what Kiba thought at the time.
What am I doing here?
That thought got lost somewhere in his skull as the scent overwhelmed him, hit him with the force of a perfectly dosed poison, seeping into the folds of his brain, winding through every cell, suffocating everything that wasn’t heat, heat, heat.
And Kiba said something.
Something nice.
They were not insults or provocations. They were not sharp-edged taunts, like the ones he had always used when speaking to him. His words were soft, sweet. Words that, in any other scenario, would have never left his mouth for Neji Hyūga.
Neji frowned. Pure discomfort. But he did not run. He did not move. And in that lack of reaction, Kiba found his sentence.
Then he kissed him.
And it was like falling into a bottomless pit.
His mouth parted without resistance, his skin burned at the touch. Neji gasped against his lips, and the sound was gasoline on a fire Kiba hadn’t even known was burning inside him. Something exploded in his chest, his skin prickled, his jaw clenched with a desire so violent it hurt.
And Neji did not stop him.
And Kiba did not stop.
Clothes became an obstacle. Hands roamed over flesh, nails scraped skin until they left marks. Something between them roared—an animalistic instinct he did not recognize nor wanted to recognize. At some point, his mind screamed, begged him to stop, showed him the face of Shino—his best friend, the only one who had always been there, the only one who would understand.
But the scent… That infernal scent drowned out everything, and Kiba let himself go.
It was the last crack in the barrier his mind had been struggling to hold. Something in Neji gave way, too, because suddenly, they were no longer just kissing. Their bodies intertwined, biting, clawing at each other like beasts trapped in a primal frenzy. There were gasps, growls, nails digging into flesh, movements that were rhythmic, brutal—something that made no sense, something that should not be happening, something that could not be happening.
His memory spat out images in chaotic bursts, each one more brutal than the last. The wet echo of a desperate gasp, broken at the edges like a barely-contained sob. The dense stench of sweaty skin, the scent of raw flesh, of bodies fitting together in a way that should not feel like this. A pale neck, tense, the vein pulsing at a frantic rhythm, as if it knew what was coming, as if it knew he was going to bite.
And his own voice.
Fuck.
He heard it with the disgusting clarity of a needle piercing soft flesh. Vile, brutal words, spat out as if they belonged to another mouth, another mind. Phrases so filthy, so raw, they made his own stomach churn. Insults disguised as desire, degradation between ragged breaths, orders he did not remember giving but that still poured from his throat.
And Neji, who never answered, who never fought back. Neji, who did not resist.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The moans that had seemed like a symphony now were something else. Something broken. Something wrong. They sounded like distorted screams in a nightmare. The hands that had gripped him so tightly, that had clawed at him and held him as if wanting to keep him forever, now, in his memory, trembled. As if unsure whether to hold onto him or push him away.
His own breath was no longer that of a man. It was a rough, guttural growl. The sound of a beast.
And the worst part… The worst part was not the sickening desire that had overtaken him.
The worst part was that Neji never stopped him.
He had tried. He knew that. In some corner of his mind, amidst the suffocating stench of sweat and the oppressive heat of skin against skin, a spark of awareness had flickered—small and useless. He remembered the blurred image of Hinata, her face appearing like a lighthouse in the darkness, the echo of his own voice drowning beneath the roar of his pulse: This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.
But it was useless.
Instincts devoured thought like fire consuming an old house. There was no logic, no restraint. Only hunger, only the primal roar in his blood, commands carved into his muscles before he could even form them.
And the worst—the most disgusting, the most abominable thing of all—was that he had enjoyed it.
Now, seeing it from the outside, through the cold clarity of his own judgment, he felt sick, nauseous. A visceral disgust clawed its way up his throat like bile.
And then, as if someone had shattered a glass display with a brick, the scene broke apart.
He screamed.
He hadn’t meant to, but his throat tore it out, raw and ragged. The world crashed into him with a violence that nearly made him vomit. His lungs could not pull in air, his skin burned as if he were still trapped in that suffocating heat.
Ino had a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. Sakura had stepped back sharply, her face tense, her jaw clenched as though her stomach had turned.
The most unsettling thing, however, was the way Shino looked at him. It was not anger. It was not disgust. It was something cold, like an insect watching its prey caught in a web.
"And?" he asked calmly, as if the fact that three of his friends looked like they had just woken from a horrifying nightmare meant nothing to him.
Ino did not answer. She was still staring into space, struggling to steady her breathing. Shino, in an unusually gentle gesture, placed a hand on her shoulder—a brief, calculated touch. It was enough. The blonde closed her eyes for a moment, swallowed, and after nearly two minutes of thick silence, placed her own hand over his, as if grounding herself back to reality.
Sakura recovered faster. She shook her head, exhaled sharply, and looked at Kiba. Her expression was… compassionate. As if she were looking at a wounded animal, as if at any moment she might place a hand on his head and tell him everything was going to be okay. And that… that was what truly humiliated him.
"I don’t understand what happened," Sakura said, her voice lower than usual. "It… it doesn’t make sense."
"Of course it does," Ino muttered, though her tone lacked conviction. She ran a hand over her face, still pale. "We just don’t want to admit it."
Ino wet her lips. She looked at Sakura, then at Kiba. Finally, her gaze settled on Shino, but she said nothing. Kiba felt the tension coil around his spine like a snake, squeezing his bones.
The Inuzuka wished someone would speak, that someone would defend him, that someone would say, "This isn’t as fucked up as it seems."
But no one did.
Because they knew it was.
"Look, we’re not going to jump to conclusions," Sakura intervened firmly. "Not yet."
"There’s no jumping to anything," Ino murmured, her gaze flicking back to Kiba, carrying that strange mix of pity and understanding.
"Oh, enough with the fucking suspense!" Kiba snapped, feeling his patience wear thin. "Just say whatever it is you have to say."
Shino turned his gaze toward Ino and Sakura.
"Explain," he said.
Ino swallowed, uneasy, and glanced at Sakura as if seeking support. The other kunoichi crossed her arms, weighing her words carefully.
"Shino, what we saw in Kiba’s mind wasn’t just a memory," Sakura finally said. "It was… interference."
"From Neji," Ino completed, her tone lower than usual.
Kiba clenched his eyes shut. He knew what was coming.
"Interference," Shino repeated, not moving a single muscle. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Neither of them answered immediately. Kiba felt the tension becoming unbearable. Ino shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Sakura sighed in frustration, as if she would rather be anywhere else.
"Look, Shino…" Ino began, hesitant. "What happened… what Kiba did… It wasn’t his choice."
Shino slowly turned his head toward Kiba, his posture unchanging, but the way his glasses reflected the light made him look more intimidating.
"You’ve already said that," he pointed out. "What you haven’t said is what exactly happened."
Kiba felt a shiver run down his spine.
Ino closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to find a more diplomatic way to say it. There was none.
"There was... an encounter between them."
Shino did not react.
"What kind of encounter?"
Kiba’s stomach twisted. Ino and Sakura exchanged glances.
"It wasn’t violent, I mean, it’s not like Kiba and he fought," Ino said quickly. "But it was an encounter… physical."
Kiba felt the urge to get the hell out of there.
"Yes, physical contact," Sakura added, her tone making it clear she didn’t want to say more than necessary.
"Physical contact?"
Shino’s tone remained neutral, but Kiba knew him well enough to recognize that he was holding back something that shouldn’t come out.
"It was an olfactory genjutsu," he suddenly interjected, his voice rougher than he intended. "I don’t know what the hell happened, but it trapped me."
Ino nodded quickly.
"It was chemistry. Something in Neji… in his chakra, in his body, affected Kiba directly."
Shino narrowed his eyes behind his dark lenses.
"To what degree?"
Kiba felt the air grow heavier.
"To a degree that…" Ino hesitated, then shook her head. "To a degree that it wasn’t his fault."
Shino remained silent for a long moment. His normally logical, calculating mind seemed to have completely halted, as if his system were processing corrupted data, impossible to digest. Then, in a tone so low it was barely a whisper, he said:
"You’re telling me that Kiba and Neji… had sex."
Ino squeezed her eyes shut, Sakura sighed, and Kiba felt himself sink further into his chair, wishing he could disappear.
"It wasn’t like that!" Ino exclaimed, rushing to intervene before the words took on more weight. "Well, yes! But not in the way you’re thinking! It was the genjutsu. It was…"
"It wasn’t his fault!" Sakura insisted firmly. "Kiba wasn’t in control!"
Shino slowly turned his head toward Kiba, and what he saw in his expression made the air feel even heavier. Kiba had never seen Shino like that before.
It wasn’t the meticulous coldness with which he analyzed his enemies on a mission, nor was it the emotional detachment with which he treated the rest of the world. It was something deeper. Darker.
It was rage.
"You weren’t in control," Shino repeated, his tone almost mocking, but without a trace of humor.
"I wasn’t!" Kiba burst out, feeling his own desperation grow. "I swear to you, Shino! Shit, I would never have…!"
But Aburame wasn’t listening anymore. In a movement so quick it was barely perceptible, he shifted.
It was just the flicker of a raised fist, but Kiba saw it coming. His body reacted before his brain, and he threw himself backward, slamming his chair against the wall.
It didn’t give him any more time.
Ino and Sakura’s hands closed around Shino before he could take another step.
"Shino, stop!" Sakura shouted, using her strength to hold him back.
"You can’t do this!" Ino exclaimed, gripping him tightly.
Kiba swallowed hard. He saw Shino’s heavy breathing, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers seemed to want to wrap around his throat. And for the first time in his life, he was afraid of the person he had called his best friend just hours ago. He could feel the sharp edge of his fury, like a knife about to sink into his throat.
"Do you know what you did, Kiba?" Shino asked, his voice low, dangerous.
Kiba clenched his fists.
"Fuck, Shino, I already told you it wasn’t my fault! I wasn’t in my right mind, I wasn’t in control!"
"It doesn’t matter whether you were in control or not," Shino whispered. "Neji wasn’t."
"What…?"
Shino jerked free from Ino with a sharp movement, though Sakura still had him by the arm. His lenses reflected the dim light of the interrogation room, but Kiba knew that behind them, something was boiling. Something dangerous.
"Do you have any idea what you did?" Shino continued, his tone so lethally calm that Kiba would have preferred him to yell. "The slightest idea?"
"You have me cornered here like I’m some goddamn criminal when I’m the fucking victim!"
"Neji is, too."
Kiba opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"You think this is about you, about your stupid guilt and your fucking remorse," Shino took a step forward, stopping only when Sakura tightened her grip on him. "But this isn’t about you."
"Then tell me what the hell it’s about, because I don’t understand anything."
"Of course, you don’t understand anything."
There was something in Shino’s tone, in the certainty with which he said it, that made Kiba feel smaller than ever.
"You don’t know what Neji has lived through," Shino whispered, a trace of contempt in his voice. "You don’t know what touch means to him. What it means to be touched by someone. What this means to him."
"What are you talking about?"
Shino let out a brief, bitter laugh.
"It doesn’t surprise me that you don’t know. You’ve always hated Neji; you never cared to know him."
"Because he’s a fucking arrogant bastard!"
"Arrogant?"
Shino tilted his head slightly, as if the word were an especially cruel joke.
"That’s what you think? That he’s arrogant?"
"He always has been!"
"And you think he doesn’t have the right to be?"
Shino stepped forward again.
"You look at him and think he’s haughty, proud. That he believes himself better than everyone else. But tell me, Kiba… did you ever stop to think why?"
Kiba felt a lump form in his throat.
"Neji isn’t arrogant," Shino continued, his voice lower, sharper. "Neji is someone who learned to rise above others because if he didn’t, they would destroy him."
"What…?"
"Neji grew up in a cage. Literally and figuratively. He grew up being less than nothing to the people who were supposed to protect him. He grew up knowing his life would never belong to him. That his body didn’t belong to him. That if someone wanted, they could kill him with a simple hand sign."
Kiba felt the world tilt beneath his feet.
"That’s…"
"That’s what you never bothered to see."
Shino no longer needed to raise his voice. Every word was like a needle sinking into Kiba’s skin.
"And now tell me, Kiba… if someone who has spent his entire life fighting to keep others from touching him, from getting close to him, from claiming his body as their own… if he was dragged into this… tell me how the fuck you think he feels."
Kiba felt the blood drain from his face.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
He did not want to think about it. He did not want to imagine it. But the image was already there.
Neji, trapped in his own body, unable to stop what was happening.
Neji—damned Neji Hyuga—the man who never let anyone touch him, reduced to… to…
He could not finish the thought.
Shino was looking at him with such icy contempt that Kiba felt as though he were drowning.
"And you ask me not to want to kill you."
Ino let out a deep sigh, as if the weight of the entire room had settled on her shoulders.
"Enough." Her voice sliced through the air like a scalpel—cold and precise.
Kiba, still with a lump in his throat, lowered his gaze. Shino tensed but said nothing. Ino rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, looking at both of them with a mixture of exasperation and understanding.
"Look, I get that you’re angry. That this is too much. That nothing we saw in there makes sense. But if all we do is yell at each other, we're going to lose sight of what actually matters."
"Ino…" Shino attempted, but she raised a hand, silencing him.
"Shino, I know," she said, her tone softer, more understanding. "I know you want to protect Neji. I know how much he means to you. But this isn’t just about what happened between him and Kiba anymore."
Shino clenched his teeth but did not respond.
"Something is wrong," Ino continued. "Something in Neji, in his mind, in his body. We don’t understand how the genjutsu that trapped him and Kiba works. We don’t know its limits, we don’t know what triggers it, we don’t know if it can happen again."
Sakura nodded.
"We’re not dealing with just any jutsu," she added, crossing her arms. "What we saw inside Kiba’s mind wasn’t simple manipulation. It was something… deeper. Something that altered his perception and instincts in ways I’ve never seen before."
"What if it happens again?" Ino asked. "What if someone else is affected by it?"
A heavy silence fell over them. The thought was too disturbing.
"Neji needs to be under observation," Ino finally said. "Before this happens again. Before he—or someone else—gets hurt."
Shino frowned but did not argue.
Kiba, still feeling sick over everything they had just uncovered, ran a trembling hand over his face. And then, he remembered.
The air in the room turned frigid.
Shikamaru. He had gone to the Hyuga estate. Alone.
Kiba leaned back in his chair, already bracing himself for the next few hours of torture when the door burst open.
The sound echoed through the room. Akamaru leapt in, barking wildly, and Kiba tensed before his mind even had time to process what was happening. His dog stiffened, ears perked, and Kiba felt a shiver creep up his spine.
Then Genma Shiranui entered, the usual senbon in his mouth—but without his usual laid-back demeanor.
Kiba immediately knew something was wrong.
Genma was not someone who was easily shaken. The man had been through war, had seen and done things that would leave others plagued with nightmares for life, and yet there he was, pale under the cold light of the room, jaw tight, wearing an expression Kiba had never seen before.
"Shikamaru is here. He wants to see the three of you—Aburame, Yamanaka, and Haruno."
The air shifted.
Ino raised an eyebrow, visibly irritated.
"What now?"
"What now is that I’ve never seen him like this," Genma said, spitting out the words with urgency, his tone sharp. "He carried Neji Hyuga in his arms and told us to tie him up."
The room went still.
"When we asked why," Genma continued, "he said it was confidential and that he could only discuss it with you three."
Sakura and Shino left immediately. No questions asked.
Kiba felt a hollow pit in his stomach.
Ino narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the jōnin.
"But… what do you mean by 'like this'?"
"He wasn’t blinking. He didn’t react when we spoke to him, he just gave us orders. Like he was still there, trapped in whatever the hell happened."
Kiba felt another shiver crawl up his spine, because if Shikamaru—the cold-blooded strategist—had come back looking that fucked up… He did not even want to imagine what the hell had happened to Neji. What had happened between them.
Ino frowned but did not argue. She simply stood up, her expression hardened and followed the others out.
The sound of their footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving him alone. Or almost.
Kiba had barely exhaled when Genma spoke again.
"You’re not going anywhere."
"Excuse me?"
Genma turned to him, his expression carved from stone. He was no longer just a messenger.
"The Hokage has summoned you."
A sickening chill crawled down Kiba’s spine, and something tightened in his chest. He did not ask questions. He did not need to. The Inuzuka team—his family—was on a mission outside the village. If they were calling him instead… it meant something had gone terribly wrong.
Akamaru let out a low growl, going rigid at his side.
Kiba did not want to ask. But he had to.
"… What happened?"
Genma did not answer.
Because he did not need to.
Notes:
This chapter was also supposed to include an "interrogation" where Shino and Shikamaru question Neji, but Kiba’s part ended up taking too much space, so that will have to wait for later.
I hope you all enjoyed it, and that Kiba and Akamaru’s scene was funny! I couldn’t think of a better way to lighten the mood after everything that happened with Shikamaru and Neji.
Did you guys notice the PTSD symptoms in Shikamaru, or was I too subtle? Hahaha.
Before I go, I just want to say that Neji’s ramblings aren’t random nonsense—his mind is just scrambled, and he’s confusing different events. That whole thing about "the stone, the beetles, and Shino" is a direct reference to what happened in previous chapters with the Branch Family’s Precepts Stone.
And yes, Shino knows more than he lets on. "Shino saw it first" and "The beetles knew, but I told them to be quiet! " are tied to something from their childhood that eventually led to the fallout of their friendship. We’ll get into that later…
Also, I love Shikamaru so, so, SO much, but writing scenes like his conversation with Hirokazu is really tough. Still, I’ll keep doing my best!
Stay amazing, everyone!
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