Hmm, don't kill me, but an angsty Chouji was too hard to resist. I appreciate any sort of feedback!

Disclaimer: Well, no, I don't own Naruto.


Can I say, Ino, that seeing both of you together is truly a lovely sight? So lovely, in fact, that I cannot seem to redirect my gaze, even as I feel every fraction of my body begin to rot.

I cannot bring myself to be angry at Shikamaru. He has done too much for me in my life, has been my redeemer, my teacher, my best friend, and the sole reason why I have now exceeded what I expected of myself, that even in lifetimes beyond this one I shall still be in debt to him.

But I can transfer all my frustration, my disillusionment, my rage, my misery—all my hatred—to you, Ino.

You, a beautiful delusion, beloved by two men, a sphinx in disguise as you riddled your way into two hearts that both refused to let go of your intoxicating curse once they had a taste of it, are the lone origin of my downfall.

A part of me hopes that you were an innocent bystander to your charms, that the spark in your crystalline eyes, the glint of your tantalizing smile was beyond your realm of consciousness. The more realistic, astute side of me knows you indulged in every strategic manipulation that caused two strong, resilient men to fall helpless at your feet.

I loved you. So much I am ashamed to admit it. You must have known; I did not hide it well. Didn't you see? When I'd smile softly at your overheated temper, your riotous antics, and—through the noise—the glimpses of a softer Ino, one who I knew longed to give all the love she could to anyone who would finally let her. When there was no one—Konoha had inevitably realized the brilliance of Shikamaru by then, and was intent on using it until it broke him—to comfort you while you cried, I was the one willing to hold you close as your tears took refuge on my shoulder.

And there was the time you allowed me once into your heart, when you believed Shikamaru had long forgotten you in his absence. I gently kissed you and you kissed back, and with your dulcet voice whispered, "Just give me time to get over him, Chouji." Those words would torture me with childish hope and miserable anticipation for days to come until this very moment, when I finally see that that sort of demand is impossible for you to fulfill, Ino.

I understand why you chose him. There is hardly an argument as to why you shouldn't have; I am well aware, and agree, that he far surpasses me in every aspect. But why did you have to take me down with you?

Why couldn't you have left me behind in my own idyllic world where I was perfectly content without you? Why did you have to render me defenseless with one look from your sad, tear-stained, deceptive eyes to make me fall in love with you? You knew flawlessly that you weren't intending to end up with me anyhow. I could have been here, instead of tormenting myself with visions of you, congratulating the good fortune of my good friends, joking blithely about how it was bound to happen between the two of you, and wouldn't that have been nice? There were plenty of other men you could have used, had you absolutely needed a soul to crush for your own self-worth, so why me?

Did you think I would not be angry with you? That I, good old Chouji, safe, dependable, agreeable Chouji, would not hate you in the end? Do you expect me to now yield the feelings—however foolish and misguided they are—I have come to maintain for you, to step aside without conflict, to ignore that you betrayed, degraded, and lied to me, and still call you my friend?

I know you do not love me. But I at least thought you would care about me enough to not take advantage of my vulnerability. And yet, I stand here, your forgotten pawn, staring helplessly at you though you are the last person I want to see ever again. You win. I can do nothing now. Who am I to interrupt the bliss of those in love?

So yes, continue your kisses, your touches, your embraces as your eyes caress each other in utter adoration and devotion that puts mine to shame.

While you're at it, rip my heart out from its veins with your brutality, and with your mercilessness watch it bleed, defiled by the grime of your selfish hands, with morbid pleasure and vicious glee until its last beat. It's all the same to me.