Chapter 11: fragrant

Maki was led away by three elderly men, each dressed in ceremonial Aburame garb, walking in the direction of the clan's headquarters.

They walked silently in front, with Maki following close behind. She didn't speak—still dazed, her mind hadn't caught up to what was happening. But silence was normal in the Aburame clan.

What wasn't normal was how striking the old man's armor was—black and deep violet, styled like a warrior from the Warring Clans era.

It looked… awesome. Just maybe a bit stiff for walking.

Noticing her frequent glances, the old man turned and said, "You're staring, Kurohime."

"Yes," she replied without much thought.

"Do you like it?"

"...A little."

"Don't worry. It'll be yours after I'm gone. Won't be more than a few years."

"...What am I supposed to say to that?"

"Then hurry up and die," Maki answered coolly.

The old man burst out laughing. "That's my girl! You've got fire. The new ones in the clan are all too quiet. Not like us old war dogs!"

His younger brother chuckled. "Times have changed, old man. Kids don't get sent to the battlefield at age five anymore. No wonder they're softer."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," the elder—Zetsugan—grunted, throwing a glance at his brother before turning back to Maki.

"This armor's made from the carapace of a colossal hive-beetle. Strong as steel and channels chakra beautifully. Handles ninjutsu better than most flak vests."

Maki remembered her father's old notes. He'd written with obvious envy about those rare insects.

These hive-beetles were titanic symbiotes—chakra beasts bred by the Aburame in ancient times. Their biology was closely tied to the Yang Release arts, like the Akazuki clan's growth techniques.

Once they grew, they didn't shrink.

Their attack was brutal—invade the opponent's body, drain their chakra, then detonate from within. A walking nightmare for most shinobi.

"Why don't I have one of those?" she asked, plainly hinting.

"Fourth," Zetsugan ordered.

Another elder stepped forward, opened a leather pouch, and handed her a sealed case of insect eggs. "I'm your Grandfather Kaigan."

"Thank you, Grandpa," Maki replied sweetly. Then she looked at the third elder.

The man cleared his throat. "My bugs are… a bit more dangerous. We should check with your uncle—"

"Give it to her," Zetsugan interrupted.

With a sigh, the old man nodded and pulled out a violet-tinted crystal, handing it over. "I'm your Grandfather Kurozane."

"Kaigan's bugs are giants. Mine are tiny," Kurozane said proudly. "They're called 'parasitoids.' Most think they're poisonous—but they're not. They're just too small to see. They destroy cells directly, like a living version of the micro-shrink technique."

"They fall under Yang Release. Super Shrinking applied to living organisms. Nasty stuff."

Maki nodded and carefully placed the crystal into her pocket.

Totally worth inheriting a new name.

Then she looked at Zetsugan again.

"Hmph. My parasites are nothing fancy like theirs—just the originals. The base strain."

"But that's what makes them strong. Parasites evolve. The more battles they survive, the more refined they become. My swarm's reached a state where they can counter nearly any type of jutsu."

"When I was younger, I fought the Uchiha often. My bugs adapted—interfering with genjutsu, even blocking it. They're excellent insulators, too. You should already know the clan's greatest secret."

"Swarm tactics."

Maki nodded again.

"Ha! My jade swarm—igniting someone's insides is easier than drinking tea."

He stood tall, arms crossed with pride.

Was this the Aburame's Kage-level?

She loved it.

Absolutely loved it.

It was a pity, Maki thought. There were only two real powerhouses in the Warring States Era—and both of them were enemies.

"Grandpa is amazing," she said, clapping politely. Then, without missing a beat, she changed the subject. "So? What are you giving me?"

"Hahaha! That attitude—you really are like me," the old man laughed, reaching into his cloak. "Not like that coward you call a father."

With a grin, he handed her a small pouch of insect eggs.

Maki accepted it without reacting to the jab. After all, the gift made up for it. She knew her father had frozen when facing Madara and Hashirama… but there was no need to bring it up now.

She looked down at the eggs. Unlike the usual pale white of Aburame broodlings, these were deep crimson—gleaming like rubies in the sunlight.

Gorgeous.

Absolutely useless, though.

With a blank expression, she tucked them into her pocket.

"I've given you the eggs. Whether they accept you or not… that's your burden," said Grandpa Zhiyou, his tone suddenly heavy. "If they don't, you might die."

"...Huh?" Maki blinked. "These can kill me?"

"What do you think the Aburame parasites are?" he asked.

"Weapons?" Maki guessed. Then she added dryly, "Or very convenient cleaning tools. My floor's never been cleaner."

Zhiyou nodded approvingly. "She is indeed my granddaughter. You're right. Parasites are tools—nothing more. But lately, thanks to all this 'Will of Fire' nonsense, kids in the clan are starting to treat bugs like… companions."

"Remember, Maki: these insects are not friends. They are beasts—obedient when you're strong, vicious when you're weak. If you slip up, they will turn on you."

"Our real companions," he said, pointing to his chest, "have always been our kin. Nothing else."

His voice rang with finality.

"Brother, that might have been true in the past," said Old Man Shiho gently. "But we're no longer in the Warring States. Things are different now. In Konoha, we must at least pretend we're all comrades."

He gave Maki a soft look.

"Little one… I know you're strong-willed. But while you live in this village, remember this: even if you hate it, you must pretend to love it. And if you see things you shouldn't? Pretend you didn't."

"I understand, Grandpa," Maki replied quietly.

"Hmph. You trust Konoha too easily," grumbled Old Man Zhiyou. "Madara's fate should be enough of a warning! And that damn monkey—the Third Hokage—he's got his eye on you already."

He waved his hand dismissively. "You haven't even mastered wrist-level ninjutsu yet, but that man's cunning. Stay wary."

Maki didn't respond.

"Bah! Shinobi today don't train properly. All they care about is politics and power struggles—it's pathetic!"

Zhiyou took a breath and looked her in the eyes.

"Listen, Insect Princess. If one day you rise to the level of Madara or Hashirama, you won't need anyone's approval. You'll live free. And crush everything in your way."

"Can parasites do that?" Maki asked, genuinely curious where this old man got his confidence from.

"I can't. You can."

"...Huh?"

"That brat of a Hokage only sees your abilities in terms of bloodline tricks. He's a fool. He doesn't see what I see."

"Which is?"

"I don't know what you're truly capable of," Zhiyou admitted, without shame.

Maki blinked.

...She almost thought her cheat ability was made in this village.

"But I do know this," said Shiho, stepping forward. "Your control over the swarm… your ability to reshape them… it's unique."

He reached out expectantly. "Now, let's see those flavored ones. The milky-spiced batch. Let Grandpa try."

As expected—only connoisseurs knew what to ask for.

"The God of Ninjutsu? Please," Maki muttered.

She held out her hand.

A swarm of thick, round insects emerged from her sleeve, crawling into her palm. One by one, they burst—cleanly separating their rear segments, which hardened into candy-like jellybeans. Their headless bodies, still twitching, crawled to the side and curled up obediently, returning to their host's sleeve.

The jellybeans glistened with sweet aroma.

"What beautiful parasites," all three elders murmured in unison.

They knew. They understood the elegance behind such simplicity.

Each elder picked a jellybean and bit down with a loud crunch.

"Mm. Not bad."

"Delicious."

"Better than Shiho's grilled rice," Zhiyou added.

"Still not as juicy as giant worm thigh meat," Shiho countered.

They were, truly, from the same bloodline.

Maki smiled under her mask.

She popped a jelly into her mouth and crunched. It was sweet and satisfying.

"Hmph~ You finally have taste," she said, pleased. "Next time, I'm roasting the bugs."

Because in this life—if you're going to be strange, be proudly strange.

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