Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night;
Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night...
—Romeo and Juliet Act III scene ii

I leaned against the wall, peeking through the door, looking inside the room.

It was daybreak, the sky painted with the slightest red and orange, the traces of the war leaving with the summer wind.

Her hair had grown, I observed. Maybe to, as it always had been, prove a statement. Such statement remained a mystery to me. The pink locks were tied in a frail ponytail, resting against her shoulder.

Her body and face were filled with cuts, her right arm and left leg in casts, and I could notice the heavy bandages all over her torso. I knew they were there. I had put them in her myself. Her hands and arms had IV's all over it.

Her breathing was calm and gentle. She was sleeping. Her vivid green eyes wouldn't see the secret visitor.

He clashed against the calm of the room.

Hiding where the morning light that didn't hit through the half-opened bamboo binds, his fingers reached out, longing written all over his face as he ran them through her hand. He remained wounded, perhaps the last trace of the war that existed up until last night, along with the bodies of their friends and foes, yet to be disposed of. Blood ran down his arms and chest and his jaw had a bruise in it.

Softly, she opened her eyes. They shone like emeralds against the sun. Her reaction to him surprised me. She wasn't startled or horrified. Instead, she breathed a sigh of relief, and her eyes warmed immediately. Turning her hand up to grasp his fingers, ignoring the bruises and living flesh on her knuckles, she smiled at him.

"You're okay." She whispered. Her honey voice seemed fitting to the scene in the air.

It surprised me how hid did too.

"I told you." He murmured, unmoving, still standing on the farthest side of the bed, hiding from the light.

She seemed to notice it too, seen as she frowned, and then pouted childishly, tugging his arm closer to the light.

"Let me take a look at you." He gave up eventually, and let her see his wounds. After a few seconds of gentle touches and prying glances to each other, she leaned back again.

"You need to go to someone, and ask for them to heal you. I know you're mister tough-guy and all that, but you need to heal." Seeing the blank look he sent her, she rolled her eyes.

"Just henge or something. If you don't do it, I'll heal you myself." Already straightening up, he sighed her and gently pulled her down.

"You're insufferable. Fine. I'll go." He slid himself closer to her, wrapping his arms against her waist, and rested his head against her shoulder.

"I'm so relieved." She breather after a few minutes of silence. I seriously doubted she meant his promise. Hearing his silent urge for her to go on, she continued.

"You came back to me. You're mine again. For that, I'm relieved."

He didn't answer. I tightened my fists. The bastard. How dare her still hurt her when she still opens her heart to him after he twisted and sliced it so many times?

I misread the signs.

Reaching under her hospital clothes, he gently reached to her chest, right in the middle of her breasts. None of them seemed unused to the touch. It also didn't seem like they had any sex in mind in that moment.

I was proven corrected when he pulled his hand out, and something shone in the sun.

I squinted my eyes, and then I resisted the urge to gasp, afraid that I might have been found.

There, in his hand, hanging on a silver chain, was a traditional Uchiha wedding ring. Her eyes softened as she looked at it, the same way a mother looked at her child. She then looked into his eyes, and on his other hand was another identical ring, coming from a chain hidden underneath his blood caked clothes.

"Alive or dead, I'm always yours."

As much of a gossiper, I knew I had no business here. This was the moment two secret lovers reunited after they both survived a historical war, both fighting in the front line. As I glanced with worry to the door at the end of the hall, I bit my lip, finally remembering what I came here for. They were lucky, but maybe some of them, weren't.

I took a step back.

As a loyal ninja to the village, I should report it immediately. Uchiha Sasuke, missing-nin, who had a change of heart in mid-war and helped Naruto kill Pein and the rest of the Akatsuki, was in the village, wounded, and had a romantic involvement with the Hokage's apprentice, Haruno Sakura.

My jaw tightened. That would be the case, if I were a loyal ninja to my village.

I turned my back to the door. Shikamaru, my husband, lying in the hospital bed, fighting for his life, needed me. My hand went to my womb. My baby, who had yet to be introduced to her dad, needed me. Sakura, who fould happiness at last and only needed for her to keep shut, needed me. Sasuke, who wanted to peace in his life at last, and who deep down, really deep down, was her friend, needed her.

So, for sakura's sake, for sasuke's sake, and for my sake, I, Yamanaka Ino, stood proud and walked away, always a loyal ninja to my village.

"In the world of the ninja those who violate the rules and laws are called trash
However... those who don't take care of their comrades are worse than trash"

The Elders could go kiss my ass.