Because, no-one really cared how Ino felt. Sort-of canon. Kinda.
Summary: Ino cries in the rain and Konohamaru with her.
It isn't easy.
No, it isn't easy. Having a hole in your heart; because there's no other way to describe it. The hole is small but it stings and no matter how many times you go to the hospital they say, no sweetheart you aren't sick that's heartache you're feeling. There's no cure, except for time they say, but they don't know, they don't know what it's like.
We're taught in school that next to the brain, the heart is the most important organ in your body. It pumps blood around your entire body and keeps every other organ running. Without a heart you can't function; you die.
But then why does having a heart hurt so much?
I know a guy who really didn't have a heart before; well anyway he had no emotion. Name's Sai. He used to be a part of this fucked up emotion-killing organization. When he hears about what happened, he doesn't smile or say I'm so sorry, or He was such a great man. All he says is "Well at least he wasn't tortured". Sakura looks like she's about to punch him, but I respect him for his words. I respect the fact that he didn't try to understand or fake a smile.
He smiled as he died. It was just a smile; not sad, not sorry. A smile that said 'thanks for the trip'. When I saw him smiling I think, how can he do it? How can you smile knowing you're dying, that you'll never get home, have a family, never live again?
I wouldn't be able to do it. I'd fight I know. Past the point of no return; because I'm just a generally selfish person you see. I wouldn't be able to smile as I died; I'd cry, scream, saying 'why is this happening to me?' And Chouji and Shikamaru and Sakura would live on, having to hear my screams in their ears for the rest of their lives.
I think about all these things, and more until the day before the funeral has snuck up on me and Shikamaru is standing at my door.
I ask him why he came, but he doesn't answer, just grunts. It feels strange seeing Shikamaru now; as if he's from a different world. Shikamaru, who used to be so lazy I had to drag him out of bed, now has a fire in his eyes, liquid steel. It is bright, hot, fiery; dangerous. It scares me, and it does Chouji too. But we can't say anything about it. It won't be doused until Shikamaru has the blood on his hands of the man who killed our sensei.
Shikamaru takes me to the hill; our hill. Team Asuma's hill, where we watched the clouds and had picnics and a million other things. In the sky, storm clouds gather, dark and grey; ominous. I hope they'll clear by tomorrow, because he deserves a clear, send-off with a beautiful clear sky.
"don't" says Shikamaru.
Don't what?
x
The day of the funeral is clear, but I can feel the storm in my bones. Smell it; sense it. After I drag myself up, I dress in my normal clothes, because why would I dress up? Why put on my fancy dress at the back of my cupboard for something like this? Like I'm celebrating? So I put on my purple midriff shirt, and my cut-off skirt. It's obscene I know. People are whispering as I approach: What is she doing? Has she no respect? Such a trashy girl.
It's a sea of black murmuring voices, but Sakura looks at me and nods. I see Shikamaru and Chouji at the front of the crowd; they're dressed appropriately in black pants and button-up shirts. I wonder for a second if they will degrade me for my choice, but Shikamaru shakes his head, and Chouji gives me a small smile. They get it. They know how I work with clothes; why I wouldn't dress up.
As the casket passes, a thick feeling rises in my throat. Choking; restricting. I feel as if a snake is winding its way around my windpipe, squeezing until there's nothing left. Chouji dips his head, supposedly in reverence, but tears are burning in his eyes. Shikamaru stares straight ahead with hard, unseeing eyes, his face blank.
I have to stay strong. Can't let anyone see past proud, confident Ino. Ino Yamanaka, who walks around town with boys trailing after, who can nourish a flower into beauty. Ino Yamanaka who doesn't have a care in the world; nope she's perfect.
Ino Yamanaka, who has spent hours at her sensei's house crying and telling him why life is so hard, who stays with Kurenai when she is told about what happened to the father of her child.
I swallow thickly, trying to force the tears back. I can't let myself go, can't let it overwhelm me. But Shikamaru takes one hand and Chouji the other, and I see Konohamaru standing at the front, kneeling by his casket as tears stream down his face, and I think screw it all.
A thousand, million memories are whirling through me. The smoke on his cigarette, his casualness, our first mission, barbeques, walking together, talking together, dreaming together.
The tears come then, warm and fast and with them a trail of snot down my nose. I fall to my knees, wailing, and the guy reading up front looks at me, scandalised by my behaviour. Konohamaru looks back at me and our eyes connect and he starts wailing too until our cries drown out the speaker. The crowd murmurs, restless. And then the rain comes.
Small droplets at first and then a cascade of them. The pitter-patter of the rain drowns out our cries, and washes the street clean. The rain drips down my face, until it's the only sound I hear, the constant drip-drip of the rain.
I look up and there is no-one there. How long I have been here, I wonder. Who knows? Who cares?
The rain has cleansed everything I realize: The dirty streets, the food vendor doors, and the grimy Hokage monument. I think of Asuma, and evenings spent at his house watching rainfall as I complained about the weather. I realize he never really said he minded. Everything gives off a sense of purity and cleanliness and I realize what Shikamaru was trying to say.
("don't")
Perhaps this is the send-off he would've wanted.
x
I get up in the rain, with my muscles sore. Still wondering, still aching still hurting. Struggling, and slipping. Falling down again and again.
Suddenly I realize that Konohamaru is watching me; he still hasn't left. Snot is still trailing down his face, mixing with rainwater. We eye each other. Then I smile.
And say "Isn't the weather nice?"
Based on an event in my life.