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Shino's heart dropped. The playground was cordoned off with large warning signs.
FIRE ANT INFESTATION
CLOSED FOR PUBLIC SAFETY
Mirai stood beside him, gripping the tail of his long jacket. After taking in the large "X" on the signs, she looked up at him with furrowed brows. She had her mother's brilliant, ruby eyes. "No play?"
He hiked the strap of Mirai's little backpack securely up his shoulder. He deemed it too heavy for her. Mirai was barely a toddler and Kurenai had filled the bag with drinks, snacks, extra clothes, wet wipes, and even a compact first-aid kit.
"Do not worry. We will play," Shino stated, handing off the plastic bucket. A miniature shovel rattled around inside as Mirai received it obediently.
Kurenai had entrusted her daughter to him for a few hours in order to run some overdue errands. After years under his teacher's wing, he was determined not to disappoint her or her doe-eyed bundle of joy. Apparently, Mirai had babbled non-stop all morning about going to the playground with her Uncle Shino.
Their day would not be ruined by fire ants.
Shino scooped little Mirai into his arms and approached the edge of the playground. She cried in alarm when the plastic shovel slid out of her bucket, falling past the yellow caution tape and into the sand. She wriggled, wanting to be put back down, but Shino refused.
He endured the kicking at his ribs. Her frustration was made even clearer by ear-piercing squeals. Of course she'd be upset. She couldn't read.
"Mirai," he said patiently, "in the sand, there are ants that will sting us. It isn't safe to play here. Can you wait two more minutes?" Perhaps she'd understand. Kurenai had remarked how Mirai was becoming as clever as her late father, even at her tender young age.
She grew quiet in his arms. The pigtail atop her head bobbed back and forth as she stared into his tinted glasses and nodded.
Then, a troop of jet black beetles marched out of Shino's jacket, descending onto the ground. Bright-eyed with curiosity, Mirai observed from above. In mere moments, countless fire ants surfaced from the sand and scattered into the grass, driven out of the playground's bounds by his pugnacious partners.
When only his beetles remained, he ducked beneath the tape with her. He knelt down, pressing a hand into the sand.
Mirai gasped, yanking his sleeve urgently. "No, Shino! Not safe!"
Shino couldn't help but smile. She was protective like her mother. "It's alright. I'm a grown-up. I'm allowed to check if it's okay to play." He retrieved her shovel, returning it to her. "Go ahead. It's safe now."
Tentative, she slid out of his arms. She grasped whatever she could of his jacket, wanting him to stand by. Dutifully, he remained in a crouch, watching her scan over the sand with her lips pursed in concentration.
Soon after, Mirai sat in the playground, humming made-up songs while filling her bucket. She paid no mind to the beetles patrolling over and around her. Whenever Shino came to visit, Kurenai had always encouraged Mirai to meet his helpful insect friends.
He thought she might be interested in going down the slide or riding the swing, but her heart was set on making sandcastles. At her insistence, he put down her backpack and sat beside her. She wanted to play with him. Only, when he tried to join in her activities, she protested. Sometimes, she made him hold her shovel, but then whined when he tried to use it himself.
He ignored the pang of rejection in his gut. Kurenai had forewarned him that Mirai didn't quite understand what "playing with others" meant yet. There was plenty of time to learn, for she was still so young. Shino could hardly remember what he was like at her age.
Watching her shape small mounds in the sand with her hands, he asked, "Mirai, what are you making?"
Deeply focused in her work, she neglected to look at him when she answered. "I make house."
"It seems you're making more than one house. Who are you making all these houses for?"
She held a hand out to show him. Sand poured out from between her fingers, revealing one of his beetles. Intact and unharmed by her gentle handling, it circled her palm as if to thank her before dropping back to the ground.
"I make houses for friends. My friends," she said, adding another pile to her expanding residential complex.
Shino nodded slowly. "I see."
Mirai was unlikely aware that his insects already had a home. His body was the safest place for them to be. In comparison, her sand "houses" provided nothing in the way of nutrients or protection from the elements. When she was older, he would teach her more about them if she wished.
Then, Shino caught a glimmer of determination in those familiar eyes. "Have to keep friends safe," she added.
"How very kind of you." Unsure exactly what compelled him, he stroked her head.
Unfortunately, the pass of his hand knocked Mirai's pigtail loose. As soon as she noticed the imbalance at the top of her head, her mouth twisted into a frown and tears welled in her eyes.
A touch of panic washed over him as he attempted to remediate the situation. Gathering a perfectly centred pigtail was easy. However, securing it in place with a single strand of ribbon was proving impossible. As his efforts continued, Mirai began grabbing at his hands, growing impatient.
Desperate for reinforcements, Shino drew her attention to his open palm. A beetle the length of his thumb emerged from inside his sleeve.
He'd never presented an insect this large, or charismatic, for her yet. Its smooth, caramel carapace matched her hair, hair which was sure to darken in time like her parents'. He pointed out its elongated mandibles, curved and pronged like antlers of a stag, protruding forward from its head. He hoped it'd provide a sufficient distraction until he fixed her hair.
With the beetle's aid, Shino narrowly averted a meltdown from Mirai. She returned to play, singing about her new insect friend.
---
Admittedly, Kurenai had been a bit anxious. She'd never entrusted Mirai to any of her former students, especially not alone, but she really had no choice. Now that Mirai had been returned to her safe and unharmed, she was mistaken to have ever worried.
Mirai had dozed off on the living room floor in the middle of recounting her big trip to the playground with Uncle Shino. A little smile lingered on her face. Kurenai had invited Shino to stay for a meal in order to repay him, but he had declined politely on account of being quite exhausted himself.
Kurenai returned with a blanket, draping it over her daughter. Taking a seat next to Mirai, she reached to undo her hair.
Where was her ribbon?
Leaning in closer, she stifled a gasp. At the top of Mirai's head sat a stag beetle, holding her pigtail in its jaws.