DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Naruto. Except this story.
P R O L O G U E
Three times did she take from the hard lessons life taught her and integrate them unto herself.
Like a hard calcium deposit hardening layer after layer, Yamanaka Ino's person grew harder as layer upon layer of protection covered her soul. This happened three times.
She didn't even notice when the first layer had begun. She was so young, too young to realize it. The moment Sakura handed her back that red ribbon, the waters of her sea of her soul drew forth with it grains of caution upon the banks of her lively spirit. And little by little they collected. She still loved just as passionately as she did before, but her love was no longer as free or wild as it was before.
She learned to support Sakura at a distance.
It was hardly a year that went by before the second layer was born. Upon return, she was so thankful and grateful that Shikamaru was a little worse for wear, but in one piece. However, her vast sea of compassion raged and stormed as she was greeted with the heart wrenching sight of Chouji carried back unconscious, caked with blood, bruised, and much much thinner than she remembered. Then came Kiba, muddied, and a red hollow flower in his abdomen that had thankfully long stopped blooming. Akamaru, looking tiny and fragile was sprawled across his chest. Then there was Neji with his with smooth porcelain complexion broken with cuts, tangled mess of hair, and two oozing black holes on his shoulder and torso that called silently for help. Then, then, there was Naruto. Naruto unconscious, with his pink, raw shiny skin, and a fist sized hole in his jacket, so close to his heart, her perceptive eyes drank it all in and Ino numbly thought it odd how it was only the jacket that was damaged, as Naruto passed by her in Kakashi's arms.
She found her answer right when his unconscious form passed her by. Like a blast of scorching air, Ino was assaulted by Naruto's turbulent memories and emotions, so powerful and raw that they managed to reach her even when he was unawares. She did not know how it was only his jacket that had a hole, but she knew that that hole so close to his heart was undoubtedly caused by Sasuke's fist. To top it off like bile rising in her throat was Sakura with her eyes as red as her broken heart, following them ever so slowly.
As each person passed her by, a mere spectator, they each brought a tide, flooding higher and higher, till it grew into a huge tidal wave that cast it's dreaded shadow on her small stature. After it swept her away, Ino could barely walk on her shaky knees to follow her fallen comrades as she fought to break the violent turbulence inside. Numb and tingling from the sharp pricks received from her fallen comrades' shards of memory.
This was the day where her heart cracked and hardened. This was the day where she cursed Uchiha Sasuke in the dead of the night in the foulest language she knew possible through a veil of tears. These following days are of a heavy contemplative silence in sterile white rooms with shallow breathing and mechanical beeping as her company.
This was where a week later, Ino went screaming and pleading to the Hokage to include her in Sakura's medical studies. Let her have the power to weave those broken bones together. Let her have the power to sew those cracked sinews and torn skin together. Let Ino Yamanaka have the power to heal the physical pains of those she cares for, never to look on helplessly again.
But really, most of all, she wished she had the power to weave a broken heart.
Three years later, the most devastating tidal came at her with achingly slow pace, dawning upon her and cloaking her in the darkest and coldest shadow she'd ever known. It crashed down on her in weighted tons and she hit the hard floor with a violent force before she tossed and turned violently in the current, only then to have vertigo seize her senses till gravity finally pulled her down. She found the strength to push up, but it'd be a long while before she could break the angry surface. Soaked to bone, inside and out, this monster of a wave threw her to and fro as she gaped, stunned, at the warm blood mixing with cold rain on her hands.
Asuma's last dying breath haunted her day and night.
The day after they returned from that mission, Ino was suddenly found on her knees, her voice quiet, laced with pain, and eyes dark with the depths of the ocean in front of the Hokage, wordlessly begging her to teach her strength. Never again was she to stand on the sidelines and see a loved one die. Not if she could help it.
Never again.
So this is how it happened.
The three layers cocooning her heart and soul, Yamanaka Ino walked around with this protective shell about her. Eyes the texture of glass and a tongue quick to deliver wit. She was ready to give hell to anyone who even dared lay a finger on those that she loved.
This was who she was when she met him.
Just finishing a solo assassination mission that took a grueling three weeks, Ino was off in a small neighboring country of the Sand, perched tiredly in a small discreet food stand, ironically drinking warm sake after she forced her target to drink himself to death; eventually choking in a pool of his own vomit. And if that wasn't it, then alcohol poisoning definitely did the job. It was bound to happen; the man drank himself silly till he was a roaring drunk every night. It looked like a mere accident, no one would ever suspect foul play. Recalling the repulsive smell of alcohol and vomit, Ino wrinkled her nose and took a sip of the hot tea in her hands. Oh, the bitter irony. She gave a small shiver at the cool night air.
Looking at her plate of grilled meat, she gingerly took a piece and took a small bite. Chouji. A small sound of jingling came from the metal on her ears and she almost smiled. Shikamaru's present to her on her 17th birthday. The scent of cigarettes in the night air. She was never just one out of three of Team Asuma, right now, as she sat here in a distant foreign country she had her closet friends right here with her. The earrings she wore, the scent she smelled and the food that she ate. Her mind wandered aimlessy for a few moments before returning to the fresh putrid memories of her mission.
Just as her lips grew thin and tight from distaste, a stranger came up two chairs away from her and ordered a bowl of a sort of soup. She instinctively eyed him up and down, sizing him up and decided that he was definitely a shinobi. Her animal instinct also whispered that he was a powerful one. His relatively small frame did not fool her. His soft footsteps were careful, and not a fraction of energy was wasted with his efficient movements. Her glazed mind slowed its normal sharp calculative process as the sake warmed her insides. Her sharp hearing heard his stomach emit a soft gurgle, and she saw his head hang a degree lower in wanting of nourishment. Sleek and feathery hair covered his face but she could tell by his hands that he bore a rather fair complexion.
Growing apathetic and losing curiosity with the stranger, Ino's attention fell back to her own entrée and ate. Soon she felt his eyes on her, and was thankful that she looked worn for worse with her plain and disheveled clothing and stringy hair. It would lessen her chances of having to fending of annoying male troubles. She thought about the shitty times in live of being a shinobi, the dark unspeakable things that occurred in the dead of the night, and the sound of her target's retching, and the vomit splattering over the floor but brushed it off. There are dark things in the world and there are still things worth living for. Be positive, she reminded herself; she had just finished her mission, and she would be going home in few hours time.
His unaffected gaze quickly turned away as a steaming bowl of soup arrived, and he ate with surprising composure despite his obvious hunger and injury.
She stood up groggily to leaving after slapping down a few bills for the owner and glanced one last time at the dark stranger's smooth silhouette, who turned to glance at her at the exact same time.
A stunning dark shade of silver assaulted her and a strong sense of familiarity trickled down her spine. Her long legs moved automatically forward and she continued on, suddenly wondering why she kept seeing the color red even though it was silver that stunned her. It was a handsome face that turned to her, very handsome indeed even under the grips of injury, but Ino knew better than to fall for a pretty face now, she learned that what was shown on the outside rarely matched what was on the inside. It was very handsome though, and probably one of the most handsome faces she'd ever seen.
Shaking her head, Ino waved off her vain superficial thoughts and plodded on her way to her hotel, and thought of her stranger no more.
Little did she know that soon he would soon cease to be a stranger.