Disclaimer: This is not necessarily connected to chapter one. Just a series of ShikaIno stories, related or not as you, the reader, choose to see it.


"Don't." Ino commanded irritably. "Just don't even start."

The statement was followed by a hacking cough. Shikamaru didn't bother to respond, just grimaced slightly. There was no use in reiterating what he had already told her a thousand times before.

Choji, not wanting to draw her ire any further, fished in his pocket, retrieving a slightly rumpled handkerchief. He held it out to her tentatively.

Ino looked at it, her eyes glassy. For a moment, she didn't move to take it just stared. Only when Choji held it out more insistently did she finally concede and take the proffered piece of fabric, blowing her nose into it rather unceremoniously.

Choji and Shikamaru exchanged a glance of slight disgust and more than a little amusement, but they held their silence as they tramped through the forest.

The weather had been growing increasingly inclement over the course of their mission. The first day started with a light rain that quickly turned into an outright downpour. By the second day, there was a constant drizzle that left them all miserable and cold to the bone. Ino had insisted, however, that she would be perfectly fine without using one of the regulation jackets they had been given for the mission, and after some half-hearted coaxing, Choji and Shikamaru eventually just gave up on her. When the third day rolled around with a low lying fog, Ino had begun to complain of an itching throat, and the cold had not been far behind.

Now, as they made their way on the last stretch of road toward Konoha, she was getting unbearable. Despite the fact that she claimed her throat felt like someone had rammed a porcupine down it, she continued to persist in occasionally sighing and remarking on how long the journey was taking and how terrible she was feeling. Shikamaru, for his part, had taken to ignoring her.

The sight of the gates was a welcome relief for all three. Even as exhausted as they were, a spring came into their gaits as they took those last few steps.

"I can go notify Tsunade-sama that we've arrived." Choji suggested, looking to his teammates for confirmation. "We can always meet up this afternoon and give her the full report."

Ino heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I feel awful. I'm not sure I could make it to the Hokage's office."

Shikamaru remained quiet, but he had to admit that he was relieved too. He could almost see the clear blue sky from where he reclined on his hill, broken occasionally by a thin wisp of a cloud, could practically feel the sensation of grass beneath his back in the warmth of summer, as he was lulled to sleep by the silence of an empty training field. Just to relax and have time to himself for a few hours… he smiled to himself at the thought.

As their paths split, Shikamaru reveled in the sensation of the sunlight on his face. It may have been a miserable, troublesome mission, but nothing could possibly ruin this day now.

"Oi, Shikamaru."

Shikamaru raised himself sleepily, still caught in the warm embrace of his afternoon nap. He barely even remembered stretching out in front of the tree before he had drifted off.

Choji was standing in front of him, blocking the sun from his view. Glancing at the sky, he realized that it was already a fading orange, tinged with pink. Apparently, he had slept longer than he intended.

"Troublesome…" he muttered.

Choji remained standing, and slowly it occurred to Shikamaru that there was a tinge of worry in his face.

"What's wrong, Choji?"

Choji grimaced. His was one of those strange faces that was not aged by an expression of concern; rather, it tended to make him look even more childlike.

He stumbled over his words for a few moments before finally getting to the root of the problem. "Well, we were supposed to deliver the report to Tsunade-sama this afternoon, and I knew you'd probably fallen asleep here, but I went to look for Ino when she didn't show up, and well…" He wrung his hands nervously. "I can't find her anywhere."

Shikamaru had to control the sigh that threatened to slip from his lips. That troublesome woman was forever causing problems where team meetings were concerned – even when they were genin, she had always been at least ten minutes late to training sessions, insisting that she had to make herself "presentable" in case "Sasuke-kun" ever decided to show his face around the training ground. Not that he ever had – not that he had even ever given Ino a second glance, Shikamaru considered wryly – but she had always sworn that it was necessary.

But when even Choji couldn't find her…

Reluctantly, Shikamaru pulled himself to his feet. He discussed with Choji all the likely places they might find her, many of which Choji had already checked, but he suggested that they do a sweep of them again. Choji would start at her parents' house and work his way through the city to Sakura's. Shikamaru opted to check the more unlikely places – her parents' flower shop, the graveyard where Asuma was buried. If nothing else, having a strategy assuaged Choji's fears, and they agreed to meet back at the tree in an hour if they couldn't find her, and from there, they would develop a new plan.

The flower shop was the nearest location, and while Shikamaru had no idea what would compel Ino to visit the shop on the one day of the week it was closed, he knew that it was one of her more familiar haunts.

When he arrived, the front door was locked, something he had anticipated, but a strange feeling pressed at the back of his mind, insisting that perhaps he should check inside just in case. Thus, he trudged around to the back of the shop and wandered through the rows of blooming buds to get to the back door. It, as Shikamaru had also anticipated, was not locked. The Yamanakas rarely locked the back door, because it required navigation through the labyrinth of plants to even reach it, deterring any would-be thieves.

The back room was cluttered with vases, ribbons and stems, with orders piled high on the desks, some filled, many still waiting to be delivered. Most of them were dictated in Inoichi Yamanaka's precise script, but here and there, he noticed papers that were covered in Ino's curving hand. He noticed one that was a personal order, placed by Ino herself, flowers for a grave. It shouldn't have surprised him – the anniversary of their sensei's death was quickly approaching – but it still managed to produce a pang of guilt in him. He noticed watermarks on the order, and it vaguely occurred to him that perhaps that wasn't dew from some stray stems, but rather stray tears that had made their way to the page.

Drawing his eyes away from the paper with considerable effort, he turned to the door that led to the main display room, which was, strangely, open. As he peered around the sill, he realized why.

A lone figure stood, frozen like a statue in front of a bouquet of lilies. Even from the door, he could see the glassy reflection of her eyes and the red tinges around her nose. She stared fixedly at the plant, but without really seeing it, and she swayed slightly on her feet, as though her center of gravity would not quite solidify.

"Ino?"

She turned to him only slightly when he called her name, her gaze roving over him with little recognition before turning back to the plant.

"Hey, Shika. Isn't this plant pretty?" She murmured, the sleepy words of a child.

He slowly walked to stand next to her. Even being this close to her, he could feel heat emanating from her, and when he reached out a tentative hand to touch her arm, it felt as though her skin were on fire.

"Ino, what are you doing here?"

"I needed to come." She said matter-of-factly. "Asuma-sensei needs flowers."

The simplicity of those words shattered something in Shikamaru. It was almost as though they were still genin, and Ino was filling an order for Asuma to bring to Kurenai for one of their dates. Making a great effort to keep his hands from shaking, Shikamaru put a hand on her shoulder.

"Ino, you need to go back home. You have a fever."

She didn't protest. She simply turned toward him, her gaze still vacant, and leaned her head against his shoulder, as though her previous thoughts were all but lost. By the time he got her to the front door, she was practically unconscious – when she took the first few stumbling steps into the street, he realized that this would be a much simpler process if he just carried her. Wrapping one arm around her torso and using the other to sweep her knees up, he lifted her with little trouble. She was lighter than she seemed, and it worried him slightly – had she always been this thin?

She made no protest, too addled by the fever, and he took the back routes to her apartment, not wanting to answer the question of why he was having to carry Ino back home. Her front door was, fortunately, unlocked, so he simply had to twist the handle rather than set her down long enough to search for the key.

Her apartment was mostly empty, save for one bowl and glass that sat in the sink, which he guessed must have been from earlier in the day. He passed the kitchen and carried her down the hall, to the very back of the apartment where her bedroom was situated. It was the only room that even looked vaguely lived-in. The sheets were rumpled, and clothes were thrown over one of the chairs. Various perfumes and make-up containers littered the bureau, and Shikamaru suddenly got a better idea of why it had always taken her so long to get ready for training. With that many options, you could probably spend a year going through them all and still not come to a decision.

With as much care as he could, he leaned over to deposit her on the bed, doing his best not to wake her, but it proved to be in vain. The sensation of falling apparently awakened something in her half-conscious mind. An arm reached up to latch around his neck, burning into his skin.

"Shika?" She murmured, and he paused, afraid to let her go for fear that her death-grip on his neck would dislocate or break something.

"What is it, Ino?"

Her eyes flickered open for a moment, and she smiled at him, a genuine smile, not teasing, or sarcastic, or any of the countless other emotions he saw played out on her face every other day.

She lifted her other hand to his cheek, and despite the fact that it must have been scorching against his skin, he couldn't feel it. He was only aware of that beguiling, sweet smile, the one directed specifically at him.

"You've always taken such good care of me." She muttered quietly, and before he was aware of what she was doing, she leaned forward, pressing her lips gently against his jawline. It was only an instant, and then she was once again slumped in his arms, pulled back into sleep by the fever. She likely wouldn't even remember the occurrence the next time she saw him.

But Shikamaru would. He finished lowering her down onto the bed and turned to leave, his mind whirring in too many directions at once.

He gave her one last glance before he left the room – he would have to go tell Choji to stop the search – glancing over her familiar form in the half-light of the sunset.

"And if I can," he muttered quietly, though he knew she couldn't hear. "I always will, troublesome as it is."


A/N: So I've decided to turn Perchance into a oneshot series. I just couldn't help myself.

I've been suffering with a cold myself recently, so I figured, why not channel my suffering into something that can at least be appreciated?

Hope you enjoy this second installment, and I'll be updating sporadically as different ideas pop into my head. If you have any ideas, feel free to suggest them in reviews and I might just write them!