Ocean of Shadows
Summary: Ino joins Anbu to keep an eye on Shikamaru. Drabble- Ino Yamanaka. Sequel to "Forest of Glass".
Warning: Rated for angst and dark themes.
Set: Sequel to "Forest of Glass". Tamuril2 asked for something from Ino's perspective, which made me think. A third installment should follow sometime in the future.
Disclaimer: Standards apply.
Happy Easter Holidays! (2017)
Is is a fundamental truth that children, once more or less conscious of the idea of a future, strive to become exactly as they think their role models to be.
Ramen stall vendors.
Farmers.
Hokage.
Florists.
In Konoha-Gakure, village hidden behind the leaves, this applies in the same way as it applies to any other village one might know. The only difference is the fact that shinobi is a legal profession here, and that more than half of the population works in aforementioned field. Shinobi fall in love with each other as a healer might fall in love with another healer. Children are born to ninja on active duty, or have relatives that are shinobi. Parents by blood or heart pass along their experiences, their dreams and their wishes. And children dream of things they know, or have heard of, of people they know and want to be like, of futures they wish to shape. Civilian children grow up dreaming of being firefighters, or librarians, or construction site workers, or accountants.
And shinobi children – shinobi children grow up dreaming of becoming shinobi.
"Did you see Shikamaru?"
Chouji's voice was calm, but something flickered in his eyes. Ino took one last look at the wreath she was finished winding and set it aside.
"Not since he came back. Sakura said he just needed some rest."
(That was not what Sakura had said.)
"We had lunch yesterday."
The something in Chouji's eyes filtered into his voice, made her heart beat pick up. The worry she had carried around like a leaden weight for the past three months threatened to suffocate her again. It felt as if, since he had left months ago, she had been struggling to breathe. And then he had come back – and there still was no oxygen left, a world empty and hollow and transparent. The sound of her heartbeat was like the distant sound of an ocean, of waves crashing onto the shore. Sometimes, it woke her up at night.
"He's joining ANBU."
Ino's hands grasped for the next task automatically, a bridal bouquet, white roses and gerbera. "Really?"
"He's going to get himself killed," Chouji said, terror and resignation both equally present in his voice. His eyes were desperate.
Sakura: I didn't recognize him, Ino.
The sensation of emptiness that threatened to choke her whenever she stretched out to sense him. It had been there for the past five years, but now it felt cold.
Rumor had it that Team Ten worked together as if they could read each other's minds.
For a hundreds of reasons, it was hard not to pick up on each other's thoughts without needing to speak them out loud. Ino was a member of the Yamanaka clan, but even more: they knew each other. They had fought and had bled for each other; there was no way they could separate themselves from each other anymore. Nowadays, it was hard to be apart for thousands of reasons; they were a team, they were friends, they were better together. (Take care of them, Ino, swear to me.) And at the same time it was even harder to be together; for a million reasons she did not want to think about too closely. They did not avoid each other, just went forward: Chouji trained a genin team, and Shikamaru acted as advisor and diplomat, and Ino went on missions. And if they did not see each other for weeks on end, who would find that strange? Who would guess there was more to it? Nobody would ask even the simplest of all questions, three letters like cold ice in her throat. But no matter what Shikamaru did to shut her out: to Ino, he would forever be important. And Ino was very bad at letting go of what was precious to her.
Chouji knew. It was why he had come.
"It's Shikamaru," she said lightly, carefully winding a wire around a long-stemmed gerbera. It was beautiful, white with pink and violet shadows. She finished wrapping the wire around the stem and pierced its bud, stabilizing its head. "He won't die that easily. I'll have an eye on him."
Chouji had, at least, the grace to look guilty.
"You pass."
"Just like that?"
The dark-haired woman in front of her smirked.
"What do you think? We have records of your jounin exam, your psych evaluation, your mission files, your health records, your academy grades and what color your underwear is. What else would we need?"
"Maybe you would like to observe my abilities yourself." Test me. Do I have what it needs to become one of you?
"Kid, if you wanna kill yourself and others in the most noble service to your village, nobody's gonna stop you."
The chest armor weighted more than the standard flak vest, but just so. The twin blades, short and lethal, would take some time getting used to. And the mask – it felt like a foreign entity on her face, suffocating her.
Ino clenched her teeth and breathed through it until it became bearable.
Almost.
That was, in effect, how Ino Yamanaka became ANBU.
"Are you doing this for Chouji or for Shikamaru?"
Sakura's eyes always had the ability to look right though her – part of the reason Ino could not stay close to her; part of the reason they had spent so much of their childhood as rivals. And possibly, it was also part of why Ino had wanted to be close to Sakura, had wanted it for so long and so desperately.
(Few things ever change.)
The way she stood there, Ino's old enemy and now friend, her hands clasped carefully, her shoulders straight, she looked like she knew the answer but did not want to accept it. It was so much like her, so Sakura. Always wanting to save everybody –
The memory of a sunny afternoon, a playground at the forest's edge. Two girls meeting, same age, different families. Playing. A root, a fall, a scraped knee and tears, and then, a resolution.
"I won't cry! I am going to be a kunoichi as strong and beautiful as Tsunade-Hime!"
Sometimes Ino wondered whether Sakura remembered that day. She hoped not. There was too much that had come between them since then, and it had taken too much to rebuild their fragile friendship since then. (You are holding in your hands everything I -) Gratefully, she smiled at her friend, shaking her head.
"I am doing this for me."
Sakura did not look like she believed her, but then, Ino knew she did not. She also knew Sakura would not understand, but she loved her, regardless.
She had been slotted for the Torture & Interrogation squad.
Both her father as well as Ibiki-San had mentioned it to her before, making it subtly clear that it was not only what they thought was best for the village but also what she was best suited for.
Ino had imagined her future: training under the grizzled, hardened interrogation specialist and spymaster. Learning how to interrogate suspects and question prisoners. Gaining information, willing or not, extracting their secrets without them realizing; adding the power that was knowledge to the stores of Hidden Leaf. She knew the game. It was so easy reading human expressions. The tiny spasms of muscles and skin, quick glances, the minuscule twitch of a brow: giving away things, pointing out others. It was so easy, invading a person's mind, even without his consent. If Ibiki-San thought she would be an asset for his department she would be; she had been taught by the best, after all. She could just as well take over from the ageing chief one day.
The thought made her skin crawl.
Six people have shaped Yamanaka Ino's life.
Asuma-sensei. Sakura. Chouji.
Her father.
Her mother.
Every person carries an ocean within himself.
Her mother's voice, remembered, a song in her father's mind. A song they shared; the Yamanaka clan kept no secrets. Riku Yamanaka might have died when her daughter was only four years old, but in Ino's memories, she was very much alive.
And Shikamaru.
Shikamaru Nara: the first person, aside from her parents, that she got to know in her life. Her companion, her confidante (before they turned ten, and she discovered that girls were not expected to have a boy best friend), her moral compass. Her inner voice, nagging at her, telling her to breathe, to calm down. To stop being troublesome. Granted, she did not always listen to him – but she listened to him. He was the person her eyes flew to when she entered a room. The one person who could rile her up more than anything.
The only person she could forgive for leaving, even if the sensation of betrayal would forever remain.
Maybe it was because Shikamaru saw her just for what she was, or maybe because she could not change it. Ino really never had been good when it came to letting go of what was important to her, even when it broke her.
Cool forest nights, starry skies over endless planes. Desert, mountains.
Death.
So this was what ANBU saw.
But then, ANBU were not sent on the kind of missions that were turned into tales of heroic deeds and bravery, to tell to children of future generations. ANBU were no heroes, no soldiers like the usual shinobi. ANBU were dispatched in the shadows, to carry out missions that had to be done and did not involve light and a neat report that could be filed for all the world to see. ANBU were not mentioned in Bingo books. ANBU were the Hokage's tools.
She had not expected anything else.
The shadows around Shikamaru extended and scattered, as if chased away by the light. They surrounded him constantly, nowadays, and he had to consciously let go of them in order not to give away his clan alliance. It was easy to see, for her, even though he never once let go of the walls around his mind.
Ino watched, quietly, and shielded her own thoughts.
The Yamanaka kept no secrets from each other.
Growing up in a house full of people who were able to look into your mind was a tricky affair. It was why the clan, first and foremost, taught its children how to shield. Ino's shield was exceptionally strong, result of years of training as well as of natural ability, but not even she could escape the scrutiny of a whole family of quasi-mind readers.
(She tried to explain it once: it was not mind-reading per say but a sort of probing; thoughts that were broadcasted clearly were caught, like microwave transmissions were picked up by radio antennae. Mental shields were only as strong as those who built them and were constantly battered by errant transmissions; it was enough to have the strongest clan member seek out solitude and silence once in a while. Ironically, Shikamaru was the only one who understood her, then.)
(the beginning of the end)
In a family of mind readers, hiding anything was a task that took more effort than was comfortable. If someone had secrets, they would have needed to remain hidden, buried under layers and layers of diversions, boisterous words and wheedling tones. It took time, and energy, and undermined the other's trust.
The Yamanaka clan kept no secrets.
Ino had two.
The night smelled like blood.
There was a dead body somewhere in the dark mansion behind them. Her hands felt stick and warm, as if coated in blood of which she knew nothing had spilled onto her. She felt it, nevertheless, the phantom sensation burrowing under her skin and into her bones.
"Do you feel guilty for not feeling guilty?"
Shikamaru had not wanted her as a partner, but he did follow orders. It was, she reflected, perhaps the one thing that distinguished the Ancient Clans from shinobi like the Uchiha and the Uzumaki: they took their orders seriously, even if they did not like them.
"I killed before."
He did not look at her.
"I know."
Sometimes she wondered what had made him fall into the shadows so deeply, almost desperately. It was as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity for large parts of his life, waiting for them to swallow him completely. It went beyond the Nara clan's techniques, their propensity to hide in the pockets of darkness created by light. Something in him had broken. She never had asked what happened; had only watched – she regretted it now, but she could not change it anymore. Maybe it had been the mission to retrieve Sasuke, all those years ago. Or their fights with Hanzo, and Asuma-Sensei's death. Or the war. Or the mission to Iwa, after which he had joined ANBU. Ino could not ask, not anymore. She had lost her right to it a long time ago.
In return, Shikamaru never asked why she was there.
Ino had always known it would be worth protecting, one day.
"Kill him."
"I'm not killing a defenseless child."
"His life is forfeited, anyway."
But Wolf did not say anything else, and did not stop Stag from carrying the baby out of the room. He followed when she made her way to the small monastery along their path, and carefully set down the child on the doorstep.
Ino leaned down and whispered something in the baby's ear. The infant did not wake, but whined in its sleep. Wolf observed them with dark eyes, the blood-red lines on the white porcelain seamlessly merging into the shadows below the hood of his cloak. She could feel his eyes on her back.
She would not kill children. Lines, lines. Some she would not cross.
"You won't have a choice."
"I'll fight it. You know that."
He did not say anything else, just left, as usual expecting her to follow. Sometimes Ino was not sure whether she was supposed to be insulted or take it as a compliment.
Children.
All those children of Hidden Leaf, dreaming of a future.
So many children, all sharing one dream:
Neji and Hinata, though divided by their family. Lee, Tenten, Kiba and Shino, Chouji and Shikamaru. Sasuke, second heir to an old shinobi clan, hell, even Sakura, born to a civilian family, and Naruto, who had been an orphan for all his life: they were connected by what they wished to be, what they wished of the future. And, though they would take different paths in the future – Sakura becoming a healer, Sasuke defecting, Tenten, Kiba, Chouji and Lee becoming jounin instructors, Neji and Hinata leading the Hyuuga clan, Shino traveling and Shikamaru serving the Hokage as assistant: their initial dream had been identical; their first steps on the road leading into the same direction that would, eventually, bring them together.
It was ironic, really: Only Ino never had wanted to be a shinobi.
"What are you doing?"
The mask changed his voice and obscured his features. Sometimes, Ino wondered whether it still was her childhood friend behind the painted porcelain, or someone else entirely. Then she felt the echo of his presence: he would forever be Shikamaru, even if he was not the boy anymore she had once loved. His ocean, dark and silent, whispered in her mind. The light-filled place he had always represented in her past had fallen into shadows a long time ago, but it still was achingly familiar.
"Nothing."
As always, he left without looking back.
As always, Ino followed.