A/N: Marigolds mean despair and grief.
You can read this piece as presented (End to Part I) or in chronological order (Part I to End). The reason why I chose to present it backwards is to create the sense of disorientation Inoichi is experiencing.
If you're a reader of Ghost (my other work), this is the fic I mentioned in Ch67 that I was almost finished with.
Enjoy! :)
End
"We're home, Inoichi."
His feet falter and he looks up questioningly, immediately wincing at the sharp lance of pain the movement causes.
But. The war.
Keeping his eyes on the person who had spoken, he backs away warily from the other man's expectant gaze. When the he doesn't try to stop him, Inoichi spares a hasty glance around. Rising apprehension presses its hands tight around his throat, making his breath mist in sharp, pale bursts of condensation. The forests are dense and steeped in the shadow of night — where was he heading? Why is he with this... stranger?
Those white creatures - the ones that steal others' faces and chakra - they appear in forests like these. It's not safe. That man might be one of them.
But there are bright lights in the distance. He must be near one of the camps. Pain twinges lazily through him as he trawls his memory again for a hint that just wouldn't appear.
His mind feels strangely blank. Maybe he should get a medic?
No time, no time. He needs to go back to...
To Headquarters, yes. They still need him. It must be Iwa stirring up trouble again. Or was it Kiri? Inoichi frowns down at his scuffed sandals, confused by the disjointed, leaping logic of his memory and even more frustrated by his inability to make sense of them. He had always prided himself in the lucid organisation of his mind and this... this is more than simply alarming.
He needs Shikaku to brief him again. That'll definitely help, won't it?
Turning on his heel, he starts walking, muttering under his breath as he goes. There is a war with a capital W going on and he's needed. He doesn't get to go home before it is finished or he falls dead.
"—ichi? Ino—" A hand clasps over his wrist and pulls him to a stop. "Inoichi!"
Startled, he whips around, a punch instinctively flying before he can stop himself. His knuckles hit the flat of the other man's palm with a loud clap. They stare at each other, wide-eyed. When the seconds tick on and the other man doesn't retaliate, Inoichi finds his gaze drawn along the two deep scars carved across the other's face.
There's a story here. A familiar shout of shock and pain echoes in his mind and he knows he has heard it before in his nightmares.
"The war is over." The words are heavy with grief despite their glad message. The scarred man's hand closes slowly over Inoichi's fist and gently presses his arm down. "We're back home."
Gaze skipping over the other man's shoulder, Inoichi drinks in the towering double doors and the familiar strokes of the hiragana painted on them.
"Really?" he asks hoarsely. The sight pulls at him like a line and hook lodged right between his ribs, and Inoichi is sure he's bleeding.
A wan smile pulls at that scarred face. "Yes."
Home.
Like a wave bursting through a long-crumbling dam, relief floods Inoichi. It washes away the twisting anxiety that had squeezed his lungs so tightly. His plans, half-made and half-believed, slip his mind and he doesn't care. He clings onto the truth before him.
He's home.
He hopes it's real.
He repeats it to himself as they move towards the golden light spilling through the doors, desperate to not forget. He has someone important to go home to.
Home-home-home.
Someone important.
V.
His throat is parched and every dry swallow makes his throat click, but he feels like he's drowning.
His thoughts fragment and slip away with every grasp he makes towards them, and words elude his tongue. 'Something's wrong.' That much is obvious, but he can't figure out the hows and whys for the life of him. It feels like he's waist deep in quicksand, sinking further with every movement he makes.
Someone looms over where he lies curled up on the ground, shadow over shadow in the blinding darkness of the cave, and Inochi flinches away even as the shadow retreats. The movement stirs the air and the wet-damp-sour of trapped rainwater and bat droppings assaults his nose afresh. Inoichi gags on an inhale, his stomach empty and roiling in protest.
He has been captured.
The realisation pumps adrenaline through his veins and the haze in his mind clears a little. Sensation seeps back into his numb limbs when he turns his attention to them. His feet are free but his hands have been tied before him with sturdy, expert knots, the worn cloth twisted between his fingers to prevent the formation of any hand seals.
Not that he'd be able to remember the proper sequence of any jutsus with how uncooperative his mind is being. Drugged. He has been drugged. Why else would he be so incoherent?
It's only when his captor starts speaking to him, his voice low and smooth, that Inoichi realises he has been panting harshly, his hands twisting hard enough against their bonds to leave red lines on his skin. The unusual familiarity of his captor's voice washes over him, soothing the swelling tide of anxiety in his chest despite the doubts whirling incessantly through his mind. Inoichi reluctantly relaxes against the cold, dirt-speckled cave floor and tries to gather his senses, reeling in the pieces of his shattered self and piecing them together into a semblance of order. He has to fix himself before he can hope to escape.
"Crap," his captor mutters, dragging his hand over his loosely tied hair in an agitated motion. "Tying you up wasn't the best idea, was it?" Distress weighs down the corners of his mouth, deepening lines and pulling at the parallel scars slashing brutally across his face. Inoichi can't imagine why he would be upset, so he stares, trying to understand the thoughts behind those weary, sorrowful brown eyes.
'It should be easy,' comes the thought, but that flash of disappointment feels like a ghost left over from another life.
"Inoichi," the other man sighs, resting his arms against his bent knees. The brightening dawn lights up the entrance of the cave in a panel of colours, sending rays of light skittering over distant treetops and into their dark little space. "I'm sorry. I needed to sleep but you tend to wander off who knows where." He's frowning so hard, his face drawn and his shoulders hunched. It should have been a frightening expression, but under the gentle touch of the morning light, the uncertainty in his gaze chases away the fear that had snared Inoichi earlier.
He doesn't really understand himself anymore, but he trusts the promise of safety in those eyes. Inexplicably.
The scarred man shakes his head and gives Inoichi a smile. It's a faint, emaciated thing, but it makes the tightness in Inoichi's lungs loosen. "Do you remember passing the border? We would have passed the halfway mark to Konoha if not for the rainstorm." He pauses, fingers drumming against his knee when Inoichi hesitates and doesn't reply. "Maybe we'll be able to find an inn soon and brush our teeth, eh?" he jokes weakly.
It sounds nice. Inoichi doesn't know how many days and nights they have spent trudging through the wilderness, but they both sure look and smell it. (Maybe it's not the cave and the bats' fault.) Wrinkling his nose - and making the scarred man chuckle - Inoichi pushes himself up into a sitting position. He holds out his hands, an unknown source of confidence prompting him to speak. "Untie me?"
"Hai, hai," the other man says, his face lighting up like Inoichi has done something wonderful. "I'm going to use a kunai, okay?"
The mention of a weapon makes Inoichi's stomach squeeze uncomfortably, flashes of darkness and fire and burning, blistering, heat sweeping through his mind, but he pushes it away and nods. He trusts this man.
(He doesn't know why — he forgets. But he remembers what he feels and that's all that matters.)
The knots are cut and the bindings loosened with care. When the last of the bonds slip free, Inoichi flexes his sore hands and cracks his knuckles, sighing softly. "You should work in T&I."
Both of them freeze the moment the sentence comes out of his mouth. "Inoichi!" the other man exclaims, leaning forward and taking him by the shoulders, his movements slow and telegraphed as if he's afraid to startle a deer. "Do you recognise me?"
He looks so hopeful that it almost pains Inoichi physically.
He tries to remember, he really tries. But his memories slip through his fingers like sand in the wind, leaving only a few grains in his palm. He clenches his fist tight and hopes he makes the right guess.
"You're my friend," Inoichi murmurs, relieved when it comes out as a statement instead of a question. The moment he says it, though, he has never been so sure of anything as this. "You're my friend," he repeats again, more firmly this time.
The scarred man bows his head, brows drawn tight together once more. "Yeah," he says hoarsely, his shoulders trembling. "I'll get you back to Konoha and everything will be okay. The Yamanaka have the best mind-healers in all Five Nations; they'll know what to do."
Inoichi rubs at the fading ligature marks on his hands absently. "What happened?" Cold air stings the back of his throat. There's really something wrong with him, it seems, for him to have mistaken a friend for an enemy. But to be fair, being tied up didn't really help things.
The scarred man raises his head, his eyes dark with guilt. "You did a large scale Mind Transmission Jutsu to everyone in the Allied Shinobi Forces. A few days ago, you told me that this is probably some kind of side-effect."
"Oh." The matching flak jackets they have on catch his eye for the first time. Where have his observation skills gone? "I'm a Yamanaka." The waterfall of blonde spilling over his shoulder confirms it, but his friend looks incredibly pained by those words. "And we were in a war..."
He suddenly remembers the incredible determination and fear warring in the dizzying thousands of minds he had been connected to. Their voices hover on the edge of his consciousness like whispers heard through a thin wall.
Then there was water, closing over his head like a sea of darkness before the earth shook and a riot of flame and colour exploded before their eyes. They had been saved by someone. A Kiri-nin hauling them through space and water by sheer will and chakra until they were far, far away.
There was scalding vapour in his lungs, then...
The weight on his shoulders draws him back to reality. His friend is calling his name and shaking him lightly.
"Yes?" It comes out a croak. There's a sweet dream tugging on the frayed edges of his soul, begging him to close his eyes and lose himself again.
"Let's get moving."
Nodding, he cards his fingers through his hair as he stands, grimacing at the tangle those long, golden strands have wound themselves into.
Inoichi's struggle elicits a huff of wry amusement from the other man, and Inochi's chest is suddenly tight with crushing sorrow. How he wishes he could make his friend smile like that all the time, instead of the terrible, disappointed expression he had made when Inoichi couldn't answer his questions.
He's failing. Falling.
Losing pieces of himself faster than he can grab them back.
The warm hand closing around his startles him from the meandering paths his mind has taken again, and his head jerks up to meet that same sad gaze. "Don't worry," his friend murmurs, pulling him out into the sunlight with a gentle tug. Dry leaves crunch softly in the silent dawn, a steady sound marking their footsteps. "We're a team, aren't we?"
Inoichi holds on tight, desperate for human connection and just as afraid of losing it. "Thank you." A name comes to him then, like the sudden flicker of shadow striking in battle. "Shikaku."
IV.
It's getting worse and worse.
He know that they had just said farewell to the third member of their party, but he already cannot remember who. It can't be Chouza, because he can't forget Chouza yet remember Shikaku. But maybe he can, because Shikaku is sleeping right before him and Chouza is... somewhere.
Inochi runs his hand through his hair and twists the end of his ponytail between his fingers, a nervous habit that he thought he had left behind with his youth. He has to tell Shikaku before he loses his grip on reality.
Oh Sage. He has to admit that he's frightened, and terribly, terribly bitter.
It's not that he hasn't thought about or prepared for something like this happening. After all, every Yamanaka knows the risks of overdoing their particular brand of jutsu. Mental incapacity and illness is something that lurks quietly in the shadowed peripheries of their lives, little spoken about and even more rarely allowed to be seen, but still an ever tangible presence. And as the Head of the Analysis Team, every contact with a detainee's mind is another chance of him meeting his match. He has encountered jutsus out there which can give Yamanaka jutsus a run for their money. There are times when he had been savaged by those jutsus, nearly ripped apart by cunning and raw mental strength.
And with the number of minds that he has torn asunder on the battlefield and tenderly vivisected in cold interrogation cells, the whisper of his conscience in the dead of night accuses that this is just retribution.
It's just that...
He never expected to survive the Juubi-dama. And now that he has, he can't help but to cling to his life with both hands. This miraculous second chance has made so many things possible again and he wants. He wants, desperately and hopelessly.
He wants to see his lovely daughter smile again. To hear her voice and hold her in his arms.
He wants to share a meal with Chouza and Shikaku again. Celebrate with them another war won. Survived.
Sage, he still can't quite believe it's all over. Ino has to be alive. She has to. If she isn't... he refuses to entertain the thought. The world owes him this mercy if he's going to lose himself to this halfway death. He would have tried to contact Ino if not for the fear that he might lose control of the jutsu. It wouldn't do to accidentally evacuate his body permanently, destroying with it any possibility of recovery, and leave Shikaku with the grim task of hauling a breathing corpse home. But the more he meditates, turning his consciousness inwards to examine the state of his mind, the more starkly reality stares him in the face.
He won't make it home regardless. Not his whole self anyway.
The urge to weep seizes him urgently and he realises that he is grieving for himself. Shikaku and Ao may have saved his body, but no-one can save his mind. 'Not even the Head of the Yamanaka clan,' Inoichi thinks, and he wants to laugh at the hysterical irony. He stifles the sudden fluctuation of his emotions, knowing that this is but another sign of his weakening control over himself. He tries to hold on, using every technique at his disposal to save the pieces of himself he can lash down and secure behind mental barriers and seawalls. (Ino, memories of Ino. Please, don't let him forget.)
It's cruel. In the end, he knows better than anyone else that he'll lose. He is helpless against the rising tide of oblivion that is slowly washing away his very self, sweep by gentle, inexorable sweep. The brightness of the future blinds him just as much as the darkness of the present. Every thought he has is a dream, ready to be scattered to the four winds.
"Shikaku." His mouth is dry as he stares into the flickering flame of their campfire. The shadows are dancing, merry like little yokai celebrating a kill.
His friend turns over in the bed of leaves he has made for himself, an eyebrow lifted questioningly as he props himself up on an elbow. Despite the languidness of his posture and the boredom on his face, his gaze is anything but inattentive. Shikaku is smart — a genius. He knows that something is wrong; he has just been waiting for Inoichi to tell him. "Yeah?"
Lifting his face, Inoichi looks his teammate in the eyes. There are things to say and instructions to pass on, so he steels himself. "I'm losing my mental capacity."
Shikaku's brows draw sharply together and his face tenses in a grimace of sorrow. "Is that so."
Feeling strangely numb, Inoichi continues in the most disinterested voice he can muster. "It's probably because of overuse of the Mind Body Transmission Technique. I connected with too many people over too long a distance and too long a time." He doesn't mince his words even at the self-recriminating slump of Shikaku's shoulders, because if there's anyone who can think of a solution, it'll be Shikaku. What they need now is the bare truth. "My theory is that the strain of maintaining the connections with the Alliance weakened the bonds holding my own mind together. The external pull ended together with the jutsu, but my mind is gradually crumbling apart all the same. I'd tried to... tie things down, so to speak, but I don't know how well it'll hold."
"How long has it been?"
Inoichi hesitates. "At least since the last time I used the jutsu."
In the silence of night, ensconced in the embrace of Lightning Country's thin forests, he can almost hear the cogs of Shikaku's brain whir. When the Nara speaks again, his voice is soft. "How long do you have left?"
The hospital has called him over to help diagnose patients often enough for Inoichi to know the time-frame he's working with. "A few days to a week. It'll accelerate before stalling. My self-awareness and situational awareness is already deteriorating. I'll probably start forgetting people soon, and my memories will be jumbled." In the end, he might even forget himself, but he hopes it wouldn't come to that.
This time, the grief that flashes over Shikaku's face is clear even in the low light. "A few days to a week..." Both of them are injured, if only lightly, and Konoha is still a long way away.
"Shikaku, I'll need your help."
His teammate straightens, his scarred face settling into somber lines. "You can count on me."
Unable to hold back the sudden swell of emotion in his chest, Inochi gives Shikaku a warm, grateful smile. "Tell Ino... that I love her and that I always will, no matter how things may seem. She'll be very hurt if I can't remember her..." Inoichi's smile falters and fades, thoughts of the future twisting like a knife in his gut. Oh his poor daughter. She'll suffer more than he will. He hopes she wouldn't feel ashamed of him if he ends up a mess — but no, he should have more faith in his daughter than that. She's too kind to think that way. In fact... "She'll probably feel too responsible for me. I'm not sure how far my condition will deteriorate, so tell her that it's alright to put me in the hospital or nursing home. I want her to live her life to the fullest, not get stuck taking care of an invalid—"
"Inoichi," Shikaku says reprovingly.
"—or feeling guilty if she can't." Inoichi raises his head, sighing at the sight of the winking stars above. "You know it's true, Shikaku."
His friend doesn't look away. His jaw is set mulishly. "Don't talk about yourself that way, with that kind of tone. You're precious to us all no matter how things turn out."
Inoichi rubs at his aching eyes and has to take a moment to before he can speak without the tightness in his throat affecting him. "Thank you."
When Shikaku just grunts and gives him another narrow-eyed look, Inoichi can't help the chuckle that bubbles out of him. What has he done to be blessed with such good friends?
"Ino will be the next Head of the Clan. She'll do well." He interlocks his fingers and imagines the happy milestones that Ino will have. She'll be a wonderful Head of Clan, for sure. She has the heart for it, and she will have her teammates at her back. Will she marry? Have lovely little children?
Inoichi pushes aside the melancholy and holds onto the simple, beautiful things that he had seen in that genjutsu. How ironic that the result of the enemy's temporary victory is now a source of comfort.
"This is all in my will anyway, so don't worry about it." Shaking his head, Inoichi gives a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I keep on getting distracted."
"Don't worry about it. Ramble all you like," Shikaku assures softly but Inoichi can't help but run his hand anxiously through his hair again.
"Yes... Shikaku, I might wander off on my own or react violently when startled, so don't feel bad if you need to knock me out or tie me up. And make sure to do it properly too. It'll be a disaster if I Mind Body Switch with you."
The corner of Shikaku's mouth lifts but the look in his eyes is heavy with woe. "Yeah. You won't have a clue how to manage this stupid Nara hair."
It startles a laugh out of Inoichi. "Pineapple-head," he teases, and it's like the weight of the earth has been briefly lifted from his shoulders when Shikaku snorts in genuine amusement.
"Blondie."
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Inoichi puts out the campfire with a small Suiton and lies down to sleep, pillowing his head against his arm. There's the rustle of leaves and a sigh as Shikaku settles down as well. The soothing whisper of wind through the trees is a heartening reminder of home.
"Take care of her for me, will you?" he murmurs, the heaviness in his mind weighing down his eyelids as well.
"Troublesome man. Of course I will."
III.
"TOU-CHAAAN!"
There's a muted slam from downstairs and the rapid patter of feet before Ino throws Inoichi's bedroom door open with another bang. "Tou-chan!" she shouts again, not quite as loudly but still enough to make Inoichi wince and bury his face further in his pillow.
"Quiet please, Ino," he groans. His head is killing him after a whole day's interrogations with Ibiki at T&I. Those Kumo-nin had put up a damn good fight.
The mattress dips and Ino giggles as she leans over him, her hands pressing down on either side of his head. Something heavy pools on his face, making him gasp and open his eyes, only to get long blonde hair in his mouth. "Ino," he splutters as he tries to swat the clinging strands away.
"Ew!" Ino yelps as she draws back, grimacing she wipes the end of her long ponytail.
"That's what I should be saying," Inoichi shoots back, flopping back onto the pillows with another groan. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he can't stop himself from smiling at the way Ino huffs and crosses her arms.
"We're going to be late!" she whines. "Do I have to Mind Body Switch you to get you out of bed?"
"Don't you dare..." Inoichi mutters, already half-asleep. "Where are we going?"
"Chouza-jisan's place, remember? Dinner?"
His stomach growls instinctively. "Fine, you've convinced me." With a surprising amount of strength that lights a spark of pride in Inoichi's chest, Ino takes him by the arms and drags him upright into a sitting position.
"Here." A glass of water and a blister pack of pills are pressed into his hands, and that spark of pride blooms. His cute little daughter is growing up so quickly. "Don't take too much, okay?" She gives him a sunshine smile and skips off, closing the door behind her. "I'll go get the flowers!"
He pops a pill and goes to change, sighing in relief when his headache recedes. With a hair-tie between his teeth and his hands caught in his hair, he hurries down the stairs and finds Ino humming as she fusses over a bouquet of champagne-pink roses. She looks up and frowns. "A uniform again, tou-chan?"
Chuckling, he pats her head, taking care not to mess up her hair. "I'll leave being pretty to you, dear."
She hides a smile behind her bouquet and ducks away. The orange glow of dusk paints her face in warm tones as she puts on her sandals, chattering on happily about her day. "Guess who I saw today," she prompts slyly as she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow, pulling him along familiar streets as her footsteps quicken in excitement.
Raising an eyebrow, Inoichi suppresses his sudden apprehension. "Sasuke?"
She groans angrily. "No, tou-chan. Not him. I'm not ten anymore." Relieved, Inoichi refrains from mentioning that she was mad about that boy all the way until twelve. Even though Inoichi has sympathy for the weight of tragedy on that boy's shoulders, Sasuke is much too unstable and gloomy to be a good match for his high-spirited daughter.
"It's someone in the hospital. He works in the physio department." There's a gentle look in her eyes as she says this and Inoichi is a little melancholy, but stronger still is the hope that she'll find someone who adores her back just as much.
"Hmm... should I clear my schedule for an evaluation?" he jokes and Ino gasps.
"Tou-chan!"
"Just doing my job." As a father, not a shinobi.
The Akimichi compound comes into view and Ino lets go of his arm, walking backwards so she can grin back at him. "I'll do my own psych eval of him, thank you very much," she lectures, the glint in her eye teasing.
"That's my girl," he laughs, reaching out for the doorbell as they stop outside the gates. The ground is littered with marigolds, bright yellow with burnt orange hearts — their cheerful colours so incongruous with their meaning that Inoichi pauses.
But whatever had nudged his thoughts slips away when a spike of shadow sneaks beneath his frozen hand and slaps the doorbell. Inoichi turns with a smile and Shikaku lifts his hand in a lazy greeting. Yoshino waves with cheer.
"Hello Shikaku-jisan, Yoshino-basan... And you, you lazy bum!" Ino exclaims as she hurries over to where Yoshino has Shikamaru tied up in her Shadow Jutsu. His feet dig shallow grooves into the dirt road as he is dragged along, and the passersby are shooting them incredulous glances.
"Troublesome," Shikamaru grumbles, though he looks like he's enjoying the fact that he is essentially being carried. Ino cackles and pinches his cheek, hard.
"Oh my," Chouza says as he opens the gate and welcomes them in with a beaming smile. "Long day, Inoichi? And Shikamaru too, I see."
"Yes—" Inoichi begins to answer, only to have Shikaku swing an arm over his shoulders and bear him down with his weight. "Oof."
"Chouza-jisan!" Ino greets loudly as she speeds past them into the house, Shikamaru following at a more sedate pace even as Yoshino's Shadow Jutsu prods him impatiently in the back.
"Long day for everyone," Shikaku chuckles as he releases Inoichi from his pseudo-headlock. Giving Shikaku a baleful glance, Inoichi rubs at the back of his neck. "Mm. If that's Kikue's cooking I smell, we'll be alright in a jiffy."
Inoichi's stomach agrees with another loud growl and heat rises to his face as Chouza claps him on the back. "Well, that says it all, doesn't it?"
They share a laugh as they head towards the warmth of Chouza's house, Yoshino joining in their conversation easily. When they steps inside, the younger generation of Ino-Shika-Chou are already busy helping Kikue arrange the table with mouth-watering delights. Inoichi picks up the bouquet of pink roses Ino had left on the side cabinet, a smile spreading over his face.
Trust, happiness, confidence, the delicate blooms say, and Inoichi wholeheartedly agrees.
II.
Inoichi jerks awake and immediately realises he can't breathe. There's a hand clamped hard over his nose and mouth, but he's too weak and dizzy to even lift his hand, much less struggle out of the tight grip he's being held in.
Just as his stinging eyes adjust to the semi-darkness enveloping them - and he realises that they are underwater - an explosion of light and heat flares above them. Even through the water, Inoichi can feel the violent punch of energy that the explosion sends rippling through his body. The white light is blinding and the water surrounding them heats up alarmingly.
The explosion fades as quickly as it had come. With a low buzz of chakra, the shadows cast by the towering, slender stalks of pond weeds twist and wrap around all three of them, pulling them through the water and upwards with strong, effortless grace.
They break the surface with a great shower of droplets, suspended in the firm grip of Shikaku's Shadow Jutsu. Even as Inoichi gasps for breath and chokes on noxious, thick steam rising around them, the shadows set them down carefully on edge of the pond.
Inoichi must have blacked out for a moment, because when he opens his eyes again, he's bare-chested and both Shikaku and Ao are leaning over him, shouting at each other with something approaching panic. The Kiri-nin has his Byakugan activated, the characteristic veins throbbing with chakra strain and anger both.
"Calm down, you idiots," Inoichi wants to say, just as much as "why am I half-naked", but all that comes out of his mouth is a pathetic wheeze. He doesn't question why he's alive because being alive is always, always a good thing.
"It's working!" Shikaku declares with alarming intensity in his eyes. His hands are searing hot where they are pressed over Inoichi's chest. After several muddled moments where Shikaku and Ao shout at each other some more, Inoichi suddenly realises that Shikaku is the reason why every nerve in his body is screaming.
Shikaku is injecting raw chakra into his tenketsu, and damn, it hurts!
His teammate has never been all that good at medical jutsu, even though this chakra injection technique is taught to every shinobi with enough control. Now that his chakra exhaustion is easing and his mind isn't so murky, it only hurts all the more. Inoichi bites back a howl as Shikaku's chakra goes pulsing through him again, bulldozing against the natural flow of chakra and burning like lava through his veins.
A hand alights on his forehead and Inoichi nearly whimpers at the blessedly cool sensation. "That's enough, Shikaku-dono. He has almost recovered and your chakra levels are dropping too much."
The heat and cold both leave his skin and Inoichi reluctantly opens eyes again, blinking several times to unstick his lashes. Shikaku and Ao are both sopping wet with pond water and there are weeds caught on their hair and clothes. A breathless chuckle escapes Inoichi and Ao glares at Shikaku, the effect of which is ruined because his usual gravity-defying hair is now plastered over his hitai-ate. When Shikaku grins back, the Kiri-nin sighs and shakes his head, muttering about "crazy Konoha-nin" as he eases himself down to lie on the ground with trembling arms.
"Thanks," Inoichi whispers, still hearing his heart pound in his ears. "You should leave the medical jutsus to me next time, though."
Ao snorts into the leaf-litter and Shikaku smooths Inoichi's hair back from his face in a rare gesture of comfort. He looks pale and shaken. "Then make sure you don't faint next time."
Huffing weakly, Inoichi turns to Ao. "How did we escape...?"
"A Suiton teleportation technique," Ao mutters, sounding half-asleep. Inoichi can't see his face, only the tired sprawl of his limbs and the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath his ANBU armour. "Kussaku evacuated Mabui and the others using the same technique."
"Thank you, Ao-dono," Inoichi murmurs and Shikaku echoes his sentiments with a grim nod.
The Kiri-nin turns and fixes them with a tired smile. "You're welcome. You two were staying behind to strategise for the Alliance — I couldn't very well run off like a coward, could I?"
They rest on the still-steaming earth, shrouded by the mist of the evaporating lake, much too exhausted to do anything. Ao's chakra is depleted from hauling them miles away from the headquarters, and most of Shikaku's was wasted during the inefficient chakra injection process. Inoichi slips between consciousness and unconsciousness, reality nothing more than a muddle of half-heard sounds and jabs of pain.
Shikaku and Ao have just barely recovered enough energy to consider searching for food and shelter when a wave of chakra sweeps over them and moon bleeds red. Thick roots burst out of the grounds, reaching for them with lightning speed.
"Shit!" Shikaku curses as he grabs Inoichi on instinct, his arms tight around Inoichi's back and legs as he hauls him away from the roots snaking along the ground. There's a shout of alarm behind them, but when Shikaku turns to look, Ao already being wrapped up in some kind of cocoon. With every layer he cuts away with his kunai, three replace what was lost. He is smothered beneath the layers before Shikaku can even make the hand seals for a Shadow Jutsu. "Sorry," he mutters, his lips pressed thin with guilt.
"Shikaku, just leave me—" Inoichi gasps, despair flooding him as he looks up at the eerie moon. The rings and tomoes are stark. Madara and the others must have succeeded in their plan.
'Ino. Ino, Ino, Ino, please.'
Shikaku just holds him tighter and keeps running, not even bothering to answer. Inoichi would have kicked him if not for the fact that his limbs still felt like water.
"We'll both die," he pants, tears stinging his eyes. His daughter might be dead. Everyone might be dead.
"Then so be it," Shikaku growls, but it's the most resigned Inoichi has ever seen him.
The freakish roots are fast, too fast. Even if Shikaku had left him behind, neither of them would have escaped the writhing vines bursting out of the ground. One manages to snare Shikaku's ankle and suddenly they're hanging in the air, being jerked apart and wrapped up into separate cocoons. "Sorry," Shikaku breathes, his face twisted in pain and grief as he struggles in vain.
"Don't be," Inoichi grits out, clawing desperately at the sticky, silken sheets of plant-matter for one more second, one more rebellious gasp of protest against overwhelming fate. His chakra is draining away and his vision is blurring out of focus, but his heart is still beating a frantic drumbeat in his chest. "Don't ever be."
Then, nothing.
I.
"Shikaku, what now?" His voice trembles faintly with exhaustion.
"I have a strategy to stop the Juubi. It's our last job. Put me through to everyone on the battlefield."
Inoichi's right hand is forming the one-handed Ram seal again even before Shikaku finishes speaking. The headpiece of the transmission device blocks his vision entirely, but after this many years, he can easily imagine the intense look of determination on his teammate's face. Despite their impending death, it makes Inoichi smile as his outstretched left hand touches Shikaku's sweat-damp forehead.
Inhaling deeply, Inoichi clenches his teeth against the sharp throbbing in his skull and extends his chakra. Hanging onto each wisp of energy with iron control, Inoichi begins to mould his chakra. Shikaku may be the one speaking, but Inoichi has to lay the roads and travel the distance in order to relay the message.
It's dizzying, the way the chakra pulls his consciousness down the chakra coils along his arm and into Shikaku's head, before reflecting back the same way and ricocheting through the transmission device's many wires. Miles upon miles are traveled in milliseconds, with nothing but the burn of chakra in his veins and the strength of his will making the impossible possible.
The strain of it is killing him, literally.
He has already overextended himself by conveying the news of Naruto's group's battle at the front lines to the entire Shinobi Alliance. Every nerve burns, pulsing with agony from head to toe, and from the unusual heaviness of his limbs, he's pretty sure there's internal bleeding somewhere important.
But they're going to die anyway, so there's no point holding back. Not when everyone's relying on them.
The distant sensation of warm blood trickling down his lips and chin tickles the edge of his mind, but Inoichi dashes the knowledge aside and concentrates even harder on the jutsu.
There's a beauty to these jutsus that only a Yamanaka will ever know.
It's like being in freefall — he's freed from the petty confines of a physical body, the screaming agony of it shut away and muffled. He can see thousands of pinprick lights, each one a unique colour and voice. Pouring himself into the jutsu, he reaches out and brushes against each one of them with his consciousness.
He connects with them, melds into them, becomes them.
It's dangerous, so very dangerous. He has never spread himself this thin before. He's ignoring every warning he has ever given Ino and breaking every rule a Yamanaka should abide by.
'Fly too far and you won't be able to find your way back.'
Shikaku begins to speak and his voice rings out across the land, steady and assured even in the face of death and despair. His strategy echoes in Inoichi's mind and everyone else's - every single one of them, without fail! - and the corner of Inoichi's mouth twitches with a smile.
Yes, this is how a Yamanaka should die.
He can already feel it — the fraying edges of his consciousness and the unravelling threads of his self.
Ah, he can see her. His lovely daughter, shining the brightest of them all, so far away yet just beside him. Her chakra clings onto the spider-silk thread of his, saturated with such viscous grief and pain that Inoichi can feel his heart shattering into sliver-thin shards.
But there's pride in her silent tears too, and a bottomless well of love.
Shikaku finishes conveying his strategy and Inoichi lets all the others go. He holds onto only Shikamaru and Ino, and he holds on with all his waning strength. "Ino..." he breathes, "you were able to blossom as a beautiful bush clover..." He projects to her every drop of affection he holds for her, hoping that it'll be able to last all the years he won't be there for her.
She's crying, her heart torn open and raw. "Tou-chan..."
His tenuous grip slips.
And the pain bursts anew, flooding through each of his cells and tearing through his throat in a hoarse cry. White light flashes before his eyes like lightning and he can't breathe for the anguish filling his lungs.
The world tilts and blinks out.
A/N: I do terrible things to the characters I love.
My initial idea was to write full-length, Ino-centric story taking place after Inoichi returns, but I don't have much time to write (and Ghost will always be my first priority), so I thought I'd experiment with a short prequel from Inoichi's perspective first before this plot bunny dies. Maybe there will be Part 2 in the future? Hopefully.
I'd love to know what you all think about this non-chronological storytelling I'm experimenting with, or just any Inoichi & friends & family feels ;)