Beyond Existing

Yugao

Summary: It was just another one of those unpredictable Ino moments – the ones that made him understand her less and less, but the very ones that drew him near.

Author's Note: So I've been on an Apo Hiking Society-listening spree for the past few days, and this little smidgeon of a story is based on When I Met You, one of their songs. It's Shikamaru x Ino, because I adore them together, for a reason even I'm not quite sure of. Please enjoy – I know I did. It's in Shikamaru's point of view, by the way – his take on their part in Hands. Oh - and it's short.

Disclaimer: I don't own When I Met You, nor do I own Naruto.

"You gave me a reason for my being

And I love what I'm feeling

You gave me a meaning to my life

So I've gone beyond existing

And it all began…

When I met you."

A memory of one of my conversations with my father comes to mind. It was the beginning of a bleak morning, and my mother had woken me up early. My father had a mission that day, she said, and she wanted all of us to be together for as long as we could before he had to leave again.

I remember asking my father something as she turned around to answer the door. "How could you have married such an overbearing woman?" I asked him, annoyed by my mother's constant nagging and by the dark rain-clouds gathering outside the window.

He gave a little, almost inaudible laugh – it was as if meant only for himself. "I guess it's because even a woman like her has her good moments," he answered calmly. I had expected him to say more, but I knew by the finality in his tone that he meant to leave it at that. I gave a huff.

"That's it?" I asked impatiently.

He gave me a knowing smile, as if to say without words, "Someday, Shikamaru, you'll get it."

Palm to palm – our hands are pressed together.

They contrast in every possible way – my palm feels sweaty and cool against the warmth of hers. Her hand, small and slender and pale, seems like a child's against my own large, callused, coarse palm. My brow furrows. Despite all this, she stares with wonder at our hands, one against the other. Her blue-green eyes have a bright, sparkling expression that is hard to explain.

When she first asked me to hold out my hand, I was skeptical. Who wouldn't be? There's no telling what she means to do with it. I remember one time she was asking Chouji the same thing, to hold his hand out to her. He did, but it turned out she was testing a taijutsu move she'd recently learned. Poor, poor Chouji was unable to use that hand for weeks. I raise an eyebrow at her request.

She mirrors my skeptical look, putting her fists to her hips – a position she often takes when people don't do her bidding straightaway. She shoots me a glare as she lifts her hand and tilts her head towards it, meaning for me to do as she asks. I sigh, lift my hand as she did, and press it against hers.

Now, her eyes brighten, and her testy expression disappears. Childlike wonder replaces it as she looks on, at our hands pressed together and bathed in the magnificent daybreak sunlight. Confused, I mirror her gaze, but see nothing that merits that strange, ecstatic quality in her eyes.

I sigh with resignation. It is just another one of those unpredictable Ino moments – the ones that made me understand her less and less. Ever since our childhood, I had given up on trying to understand the intricacies of the female mind, much less Ino's mind. I grew up knowing her – hell, we've known each other since we were in diapers – and yet I could still keep a straight face while I tell you that I know nothing about her.

To some extent, it's true.

And yet, these moments – these unpredictable Ino moments – are the very ones that draw me nearer.

I look back at her whose eyes are still transfixed on our hands pressed one against the other. Vaguely I wonder what other people see when they look at her. Perhaps they see a demanding, bossy little girl who must always have her way. Perhaps they see a flighty, restless young woman eager to experience life to its fullest. Perhaps they only see the kunoichi proficient in mind-manipulating techniques.

But I know none of these can fully encompass the enigma that is Ino.

I may never admit it, but I look forward to these moments – these little segments in time when she comes up to me and does something I couldn't have possibly expected. They give me something to wait for, to watch for – they give me a reason to stay. I don't always know what's on her mind, but she always makes it seem as if it doesn't matter at all. It's these moments that push me beyond just existing, to the borderline of life's meaning.

Everyday, every hour, every minute, every second, she surprises me.

"Your hands are beautiful, Shikamaru," she says, taking both my hands in hers. "Like they can do anything. Like they can save a life lost. Like they can protect what means the world to them. Like they can accomplish the impossible."

See?

I smile sadly as I push myself up off the grass. "If only they can," I say absently as I hold my hand out to her to help her get up. She takes it, and laughs at my pessimistic reply. The brightness in her eyes never leaves.

"I know they can," she answers.

We head home, where Chouji said he would meet us. My father's at the door, and he greets Ino with a cheery smile and a question as to how her parents are. She answers happily, and heads inside, where my mother takes her into the kitchen and away from my sight.

My father bars the door as I move to go in. There's an unspoken question in his eyes: Do you understand now, Shikamaru?

I suppress my laugh, and smile in reply. Yes, I think I do – even they have their good moments.

Author's Note: I'm not sure it makes sense. Does it? I'm sorry, it's just that I've wanted to do as much ShikamaruIno as my systems would allow. How was it? Please tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is very welcome.