A/N- This is my first fanfic/songfic like ever, so please don't be too harsh okay?? And gomenasai about the crappy name, I
was never good at stuff like naming.
Three Days Earlier-
15-year-old Kiba Inuzuka was doing what any teen boy would do when he didn't have a date or friends around. Sprawled across a couch in front of a tv.
The phone was ringing. He didn't bother to answer it, knowing his mom or someone else that wasn't him would answer it.
"Hello? What. . . Hinata calm down, what's wrong?" Kiba perked up a bit. Hinata was calling? "What?! Hinata. . . Hinata calm down! Y-yes, yes I'll tell him.
Sound of phone being hung up.
"Kiba?" Mrs. Inuzuka called out, hovering in the doorway. "That was Hinata. Ino. . . Ino was in a car accident. Her mom and brother didn't make it."
She was barely finished with that last sentence when Kiba was up and gone, a trail of dust the only evidence that he had been there at all.
Days Later-
Kiba was running, running. Even though his muscles were screaming, even though his lungs were screaming, he couldn't, wouldn't stop. If he did, it would be too late. She might be gone.
It had been ten, no eleven, minutes since a freaking-out Sakura and Hinata had called (again) Ever since Ino had gotten back from the hospital, she had been much, much quieter then she had probably ever been. It didn't help that her dad was pretty much drinking himself to death out of grief, completely neglecting his remaining daughter.
But then it happened. Sakura, Hinata, Shikamaru, and Naruto had gone by to see how Ino had been doing, and had run into her dad (who had been mostly sober) who couldn't find her anywhere! They had searched, and still were searching, but they couldn't find her either and had completely panicked. Assuming the worse, the only thing they could think of was to call Kiba, who might actually know where she was. They were still looking for her, but they were pretty much counting on him.
Ino was counting on him.
He knew she was, he didn't even have to think about it. Ever since they had met years ago, it was like finding a book in a language only he could figure out; the blond was that hard to understand. Like when to stay away (which was usually obvious), when to realize she was hurting, or just plain wanted some one to notice something was wrong. How to make her laugh. Smile. Cry.
Wait, what the hell was he doing spacing out?! He had to find her, now!
A/N- Gah it's too short!! But the timing was perfect, I had to stop there! I guess this might be a two/three-shot after all.