It shouldn't be this easy.
It should hurt; the rough, unfamiliar hands holding her down, the heavy body pressing her into the mattress. The inconsiderate, purposeful thrusts.
By all means it should hurt, but all she seems to feel is numbness. Shikamaru would argue with her, of course, say that numbness is a lack of feeling and you can't possibly feel what's not there. Not that it matters. They never talk about work. She doesn't ask about the bloodstains on his clothes, she just washes them. He knows what she does in theory and she would never burden him with the details. She doubts he would ever understand, anyway.
Once upon a time, there was a fire inside of her - she would feel the pain, but there would be pride afterwards. Pride and triumph, because she once again excelled at her job. Once again proved that she would do whatever it took to protect her village, her lover, her Hokage - everything she held dear to her heart.
But that was then. Now, she has a daimyo to put to sleep and a scroll to steal.
For now, nothing else matters.
--
It's late by the time she passes through the gates. Kiba just waves at her from his post in acknowledgement, his smile as sharp as ever in the dark. She can't help smiling back at him. The feeling of homecoming - the one emotion that never seems to change - washes over her, leftover traces of adrenaline draining from her body as her light jog gradually changes into relaxed steps.
Shikamaru's away on a mission until the weekend and it's too late to disturb the sleeping, but the thought of an empty apartment is enough to make her shudder.
She doesn't want to be alone, not tonight.
--
Hinata opens the door on the second knock. She smiles in that gentle way she has and she doesn't ask anything - she never does - only traces Ino's body with those strange, luminous eyes for any sign of injury.
"You must be tired," she says at last, quietly, and Ino wonders if she means this night or life in general.
Whichever it might be, her answer is the same.
"Sorry for intruding. I hope I didn't wake Minato."
The cool autumn breeze she's been unaware of until now caresses her bare arms, offering little comfort against the cold seeping through her from the inside out.
Hinata smiles again, fondly. "No, you didn't. You know he could sleep through an earthquake. And you could never intrude." She opens the door wider and places a light hand in the crook of Ino's elbow, her fingers warm and dry on chilled skin. It's a touch that promises as much as it seeks, because beneath that quiet smile lies a widow who'll never stop grieving, a tired mother who'll never turn down an offer of companionship. "Please come inside."
And Ino does, because she doesn't want to be cold, not anymore.