The Bloom

1.

When they were at the academy, Ino knew, it didn't really matter to anyone that Sakura was always alone. Sakura was picked by the girls for her forehead. Nobody liked her, nobody hated her. Common civilian girl.

But when Sakura was crying on the front of the academy, Ino saw red. The girls who called Sakura ugly and pulled at her hair wouldn't come to school the next day, Ino had made sure, with red knuckles. She had scratches on her face and a rapid half-moon bite on her wrist. Unlike Sakura she was liked at the academy. She had friends. She had a crowd cheering, fight, fight. But she remembered the saltwater in Sakura's eyes and felt that the bite and scratches are all but victory.

So when Ino finds her, she doesn't hesitate.

"Oi!"

Sakura's shoulders tense as she turns around, nervous. Her green eyes are dark. Her hair are out of place. She pushes on her hands. A wobbly stand. "Y-You shouldn't have fought her." She whispers, it is almost inaudible but Ino can never miss it. She worries her lower lip. Heck no, she's not going to leave her alone.

"Don't cry." A nine year old Ino watches Sakura startle, straighten.

"B-But-"

"Nu-uh," Ino crouches, peers hard at a blinking, confused Sakura. "First. You're really pretty okay?"

"I-I-"

"We need to get you a nice red ribbon."

2.

For Ino, the green scent and the burst of dirt and oleander was second nature to her every morning when only that,rose and jasmine is her morning dance. She liked her old apron. She preferred the blunt little scissors. She liked her mother's flower shop. Very much. When she glanced up at the butterfly shaped, dull pink clock on the white walls and it says that it is seven thirty sharp, she forgets that and dashes.

Ino thinks, no, something else too. With the apron and the gloves shoved at the back of Exclusively Her Tool Box, all immaculate and ruffles, Ino paused in mid-action. Her light eyes trained on a tiny figure coming up on the street outside the flower shop.

Ino is eleven when she feels something unusual. Her thighs, pressed together. Her mouth, slacking. Nervous sweat, and when did she get nervous about Sakura?

The figure morphed into a girl. The girl was Sakura. Sakura is someone Ino used to know. Uchiha Sasuke has her now. But the only thing she thinks of then is, Sakura has lovely hair. The color of soft peach rose petals. Lapping behind her back, long and smooth. A headband glinting on her hair. Pink dress, leafy green nervous eyes. Thin mouth, soft face.

Ino had to look away, her face, hot.

Michaelmas daisies bloom as late as in the orange, dead crumble of October. So Ino kept to be the silent observer. Maybe someday. Maybe someday.

3.

Ino tries not to stare as Sakura ties her hair. Her shirt is a little short and beneath it peeks a smooth expanse of pale skin. Sakura does not notice Ino standing at the doorway as her pale long fingers, dip the cotton in medicine and dab at the screaming little boy's scraped knee.

"Oh." Sakura finally looks up, smirks. "Hey, Ino pig. Need help?"

Ino blinks and regains composure. "Oh sure, Billboard brow, in your dreams."

Sakura just laughs her laugh, which makes Ino's heart twist and expand into her throat. Ino claps her hands behind her back to stop shaking as Sakura frees her hair of the elastic once more as the boy hops down from the stool. "So, what is it then?"

Ino attempts to wrinkle her nose. Then. "It's our day off missions and I am going to jump of a fucking bridge if I see Asuma-sensei and Shikamaru playing shogi again and if I have to take Chouji's to the barbecue again."

"Hm." Sakura taps her fore finger on her lip. "Ichiraku? Then we could go to your place?"

Ino knows that Naruto has been gone for years with Jiraya-sama. Sasuke is a rogue ninja in pursue of revenge. Kakashi sensei is busy, busy, busy. Sakura is alone again. All over again. Ino, in truth, does not mind watching Asuma-sensei and Shikamaru play shogi or Choji taking her to the barbecue. No.

"Sounds good. Come on."

After ramen, Ino is talking rapidly as she enters the Yamanaka flower shop. Sakura follows with the same speed, laughing and snorting when Sakura gasps. Ino turns, questioning.

"So many peach roses?"

Ino snaps back in place. "Uh. Yeah. Kaa-san seems to like them a lot these days."

Sakura isn't really listening, gratefully, as she jumps from one flower to another, fingering petals. "Oh, Ino, there are so many pretty flowers! Which ones do you think is the prettiest?"

Ino points to some, but at some point Sakura became a flower, blooming under the fading sunlight from behind thick windows and sweet smells. And Ino's eyes landed on her, lips parted. Ino doesn't miss how Sakura is blushing as she changes the topic.

4.

Somehow in between years, came war, in which they shared a first kiss in a lone tent. Firsts of embarrassments, fluttering touches. Maybe, maybe not. Fights. Ino hating how Sakura still looked at that damned Uchiha. But then, firsts of confessions. Victory in the great ninja war and love. They are in their twenties and they share a small apartment now. Flowers in thin, battered tin cans on windowsills and Sakura's books all over Ino's dressing table. Ino has an engagement ring, cold on her index finger, glinting. A twin on Sakura's. It's no more just Exclusively Her Tool Box, but Theirs. It's nice to share.

And its's okay, Ino thinks, as she runs a caress against Sakura's lovely pink hair as she sleeps, that some flowers bloom late. It's better than not blooming at all.

A/N : FEEDBACK IS LOVED SO MUCH. SO VERY MUCH. ( you, yeah you. Don't be so cruel as not to tell me what you think yeah?)