Oasis, Chapter 2: Two's Company
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

It was about mid-morning by the time Kimimaro and Ino made it to a town, or what was left of it. Dilapidated houses—ruins—peppered the landscape. The sun was almost directly above the pair as they slowly made their way down a dirt road. Silence was all that awaited them. Ino repressed the urge to shiver despite the heat.

Things had only become like this a mere five or six weeks ago. It started with a couple of cases here and there. People complained about festering wounds appearing for seemingly no reason. Civilian doctors and healers could do nothing for the ailing. Medical ninja could seal the wounds, but they inevitably opened up again later. Ino remembered how baffled Sakura had been by the first case they saw. Wounds were not supposed to reopen on their own like that. They also weren't supposed to bleed black instead of red. And then those afflicted descended into terrifying madness only to bounce back as something else. That was when they realized they were up against something far more insidious than they'd ever imagined.

"There."

Kimimaro was heading toward a squat stone house down a side street, the only living quarters around that still retained a sturdy structure. She jogged after him but maintained a respectable distance. If there was one thing she'd learned about Kimimaro right away, it was that he liked his personal space. That was just fine with Ino, who was still unsure whether striking up an alliance with him was evidence of her lunacy or genius. She didn't know the first thing about him, other than the fact that he was very clearly a formidable shinobi judging from his chakra levels. He must be A- or S-rank, she thought. And he seemed to have excellent control over his skeleton. She decided she'd have to ask him about that at some point.

After Kimimaro tried the door, which happened to be unlocked, they stepped over the threshold and entered the building. It was nothing to write home about. There was a modest kitchenette with a gas stove and deep basin sink, as well as a small table that folded out of the wall. Kimimaro bypassed all of that in favor of checking a nearby door and disappearing through it. Ino let him go and poked her head around the far wall. The other room was probably a living room at some point, but the couch was slashed as if by a wild animal, and the television set was smashed to pieces. The far wall bore an old blood stain that sank down the wall and puddled on the floor before stretching across the room, as though the victim had been forcibly dragged out. Flies buzzed around the tarnished area. The Infected had already been here. Hopefully they would not be back.

She sensed Kimimaro walking up behind her and turned. He casually surveyed the room without so much as blinking. Okay, so grisly murder rooms and a couple gallons worth of old blood didn't do it for him.

Wonder what does, she thought, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"The basement wasn't affected by what happened here. It should hold at night." He may as well have been commenting on the weather.

Night was when the Infected most active. It was the same for all those afflicted. First came the oozing gashes, then the seizures, and finally the descent into madness. After that, the person who used to be a friend or a loved one turned into a machine with one purpose only: kill the healthy. They were like unfeeling golems, largely crepuscular in their habits and immune to physical pain. They grew dormant during the day and retreated to dark holes, abandoned buildings, anywhere the sun could not reach them, but a loud sound or a whiff downwind roused and attracted them like flies to carrion. Worst of all, the Infected retained all the shinobi skills possessed of them in their healthy states. Ino averted her gaze at the sudden memory flash of the Fifth Hokage decimating their makeshift medical camp and most of the patients in it with her super strength, lost to the fever dreams of illness.

"Good," she said softly, pushing the thought to the darkest recesses of her mind. "I'll just get cleaned up for now. Excuse me."

Kimimaro said nothing as she passed him to make her way downstairs.

The basement of the small house was surprisingly intact given the state of the world. Its walls were made entirely of stone, with one window near the top of a wall barely big enough for a person to squeeze through. Ino decided to remove the screens in case they had to make an impromptu escape. There was only one bedroom and a small connecting bathroom, the latter of which was barely large enough for one person. Ino didn't care at all. She'd lived through far worse running for her life in the woods for the past couple of weeks. Compared to that, this looked like a little bit of heaven.

The water was freezing, but that was to be expected. She barely felt it after the first minute, more concerned with scrubbing herself clean. She was overjoyed to find the bare essentials in the small shower, and didn't even mind that the bar of soap looked like it had been sitting there for months collecting mildew. It was salvageable with a little elbow grease to get rid of the grime. Once finished, Ino dried herself with a spare towel she'd found under the sink, wrapped it around herself, and exited the bathroom. Much to her surprise, Kimimaro was standing directly on the other side of the door. Ino nearly ran into him and gasped. "What— Why the hell are you standing there?"

Kimimaro peered down at her. "You should have sensed that I was here."

Ino frowned. "Well, it's not like I was thinking about you in the shower."

There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down. The seconds ticked by, and Ino felt her usual confidence faltering under his penetrating stare. Maybe it was the way his eyes were the palest shade of green she'd ever seen. More than likely, it was the fact that she was half naked in front of a stranger who could pull pop out his finger bones like Pez (seriously, she really needed to ask him about that). She shivered, her sopping wet hair dripping cold water at her feet.

"Are you finished?" he said, indicating the bathroom.

"It's all yours," she said, stepping aside to let him pass. "There should be another towel under the sink."

He didn't acknowledge her words as he locked himself in the bathroom and left her alone. Ino shuddered. How was it possible to feel terrified and safe around him at the same time? She stared at the closed bathroom door. The man on the other side of it was a total stranger, and yet here they were taking turns with the bathroom like two friends on a road trip. Whatever his deal was, she'd try to find out after she put some clothes on.

Ten minutes later, Ino was dressed in an oversized Jounin shirt and a spare pair of shorts, the only clean clothes she had in her pack. She decided to keep her boots on given the questionable state of cleanliness of the floor and the very real possibility that they might be ambushed and forced to fight for their lives at a moment's notice. The door to the bathroom opened as she was sitting on the bed combing through her long blond hair with her fingers, and Kimimaro emerged with only a towel around his waist. Ino could not help but let her eyes linger on his figure for a moment. Before he'd been travel weary, but now that the thin layer of dirt and dust had been washed away she saw him in a different light.

He was, in a word, masculine despite his soft, pale coloring. Everything about him was the picture of a seasoned warrior, from the subtly defined muscles to the angular cut of his facial features. And yet, he was quite lean, gaunt even, like he'd spent his whole life on the run. His hair was as white as a corpse's, long for a man's, and along with his almost etiolated complexion gave him an air of the moribund, a spectral kind of beauty. Red facial markings stood out in stark contrast to his light coloring. Perhaps a genetic trait? They reminded her of Kiba's facial markings, but as soon as she thought of her old friend she could not escape the image of him slashing at her with bloody claws and fangs, all but deaf to her pleas. She let her eyes fall from Kimimaro, suddenly uncomfortable.

He watched her as she averted her eyes, but he stayed silent and instead focused on fishing out a spare pair of pants from his small pack. Ino, noticing that he was getting ready to change, gave him her back to allow him some privacy. If he was averse to physical proximity, she figured that he'd be the type to value his privacy, too. She busied herself detangling her hair, wishing for an actual comb.

"I want you to do a scan every hour," his voice floated to her.

Ino turned to see that he'd changed into a clean pair of pants but no shirt. She nodded. "Okay."

Silence fell as they continued to look each other over, and Ino wondered why he wasn't putting on a shirt. Suddenly, her eyes caught the wound on his shoulder. It wasn't bleeding and he'd likely cleaned it up in the shower, but even from here she could tell that it was swollen and would become infected without proper treatment. She swallowed.

"I can heal that," she said, indicating the injury.

Kimimaro simply stared at her like he hadn't heard her at all.

"I'm not gonna try anything," she added, realizing that of course he wouldn't trust her to use her chakra on him. "It wouldn't make sense for me attack an ally, obviously."

After a moment's hesitation, he walked to the bed and sat down next to her, leaving a respectable two feet between them. Maybe it was that he honestly believed her words, or maybe he simply saw the logic in them. Ino concluded that it was likely the latter. Judging from what little she knew about him and how hard it had been to get him to agree to this odd partnership, he seemed more the type to think in terms of cold strategy and trust no one. His tense body screamed wariness, and she knew that if she spooked him now it might lead to painful consequences, nevermind that she meant him no harm.

But Ino knew how to deal with people. She wasn't specifically chosen to train with Morino Ibiki in Torture and Interrogation for no reason, after all. Tucking a leg under herself and turning fully toward Kimimaro, Ino was careful to keep her expression neutral and make no sudden movements. "This is what's going to happen," she began softly. "I'll disinfect the wound to ward off infection, and then I'll use chakra to seal it. Depending on the damage, I may have to bandage it, too. Does that sound good?"

He took his time answering. "Fine."

Ino nodded. "I'll just get the disinfectant." She went to retrieve her pack, and rummaged about until she located the desired bottle, some cotton swabs, and fresh bandages. Armed appropriately, she returned to her position on the bed across from Kimimaro, but made sure to scoot closer to him. He watched her like a hawk, most likely bothered by the sudden invasion of his personal space, but they both knew this wasn't going to work unless she had proper access to him. She set to work immediately, wondering what she could say to take his mind off their proximity.

"So, you can manipulate your bones and turn them into weapons. Is that a bloodline limit?"

Ino didn't look up from her work, but she could feel his eyes on her in the ensuing silence. Maybe he didn't want to tell her? She supposed she wouldn't blame him for not wanting to talk about what was clearly his secret weapon, but she was curious. It wasn't every day a guy gunned down a pair of zombies with only his finger bones. Just when she thought he wouldn't respond, he did.

"Yes."

One word answers. I guess that's a start.

"Does it hurt?" She looked up at him. "I mean, when you pull them out."

Ino had always prided herself on her ability to read people. Most were easy, but skilled shinobi had a tendency to keep their emotions in check. It was tempting to initiate a mental connection and get a peek at his thoughts, but she refrained. He wasn't some prisoner to be interrogated.

"Every time."

"Every time," she repeated, the implications dawning on her. What a cruel technique. "Wait a minute, you didn't retain any injury from using it before. Are you able to heal yourself?"

Was that the barest hint of surprise in those frigid eyes? Perhaps he had not been expecting her to make that deduction.

"...Yes, but it's involuntary."

Meaning he can't use it for something like this.

She wondered how that was possible but decided not to pry. He wasn't the talkative type, clearly, and she didn't want to push her luck. "Okay, I'm finished disinfecting it. I'll use my chakra to heal the damage as much as possible now."

He said nothing, so she took that as the okay to proceed. Lifting a glowing green palm to his shoulder, Ino began the meticulous process of sealing the wound. It could have been a lot worse than it was, she mused. The cut had severed a tendon, which would be annoying to stitch back together, but it was a clean cut. He was lucky.

"Can you hear what I'm thinking now?"

Ino focused on her task and didn't look up. "No. I have to instigate a telepathic connection first, and even then I can't necessarily process every thought that passes through your mind." She returned her attention to healing him for a moment before adding, "It's not as though I can steal your thoughts like this."

"Like this," he repeated.

Ino bit the inside of her cheek to hide a smirk. He was sharp. "I was a torture and interrogation specialist before...all this," she said, unsure how to phrase it another way that wasn't gruesome or tragic. "I can forcibly extract information from prisoners."

"I see."

It was amazing to her that he kept his voice virtually free of inflection. It was like he had no opinion about anything at all. Most people found it fascinating or creepy, sometimes downright horrifying when she told them about her clan's special techniques, but he seemed not to care one way or the other. She didn't think much of it, but in the back of her mind a red flag went up. Those types usually had something to hide.

"There, all done," she announced.

Kimimaro took the opportunity to examine his shoulder. All that was left was a tender scar where the spear had stabbed him. Ino reached for the bandages.

"I'll just wrap it up so it's not disturbed. It'll be tender for a couple of days, so be careful about not jerking your arm around too much for now if you want that muscle to heal."

Ino leaned into him a bit to reach around his shoulder and bandage him properly. He smelled of soap, probably the same scent as her since they'd cleaned up in the same place. It reminded her of better days somehow, when she was surrounded by friends and allies. But that was another life, another time. Those people were gone, mere memories now. For all Ino knew, she and Kimimaro may be among the last unaffected people on the continent, maybe even the only ones left. It was a depressing thought, and one she refused to dwell on. There had to be others, there just had to be. If the two of them had survived, then surely others had, too.

She clipped the bandage so that it would stay, and something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. Just below his collarbone lay a mark of some sort. It looked a bit like a triple bladed pinwheel, small but striking, making her wonder why she'd overlooked it before. "What's that?" she asked, reaching out to touch it with her fingertips.

Before she knew what had hit her, Ino found herself pinned roughly to the bed. Kimimaro hovered above her, his hands restraining her wrists in a vice-like grip stronger than any she'd ever felt before, inhuman even. Astonished blue eyes found his, and her fear spiked. Where before his eyes held nothing, now they boiled with anger.

"If you value your life, don't overstep your boundaries," he hissed.

Mind racing, Ino searched for her voice. He was livid, and for seemingly no reason at all. What on earth had she done to set him off? All she did was ask about the tattoo on his chest...

That must be it.

How she was capable of rational thought when Kimimaro's killer intent was rolling off him in nearly palpable waves was beyond her. She was starting to think that allying with him had in fact been an act of desperation that proved her insanity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Unbelievably, his grip on her wrists tightened even more, and Ino had to bite her lip to suppress a yelp of pain. Their faces were mere inches apart and their position would have seemed intimate under any other circumstances, but right now Ino was counting the seconds before he decided to gut her with his clavicle.

"Kimimaro... You're hurting me," she managed.

He didn't seem to find this prospect alarming because he continued to glare her as though she were the incarnation of his vilest nightmares. There was nothing left for it, she decided. If he wasn't going to release her, then she would force him with her jutsu. Just as she was mustering some of her recovering chakra to do just that, Kimimaro's body began to convulse and he grimaced. In a flash he was off her and doubled over on the floor, coughing violently.

Ino was so surprised by the sudden change in position that she remained frozen in place for a full breath before immediately cradling her aching wrists. The sound of Kimimaro's continued coughing drew her attention, and she sat up. Any thoughts that it might be just a passing spasm evaporated when she realized that he wasn't stopping. She watched, transfixed, as his crouched form shook uncontrollably with each ejection. He looked like he was in a great deal of pain. Then, as suddenly as it had come, he wheezed and the coughing ceased. The hand he'd used to cover his mouth was covered in bright red blood, and it was dripping onto the stone floor.

Ino all but forgot the aching pain in her wrists as she watched him. Kimimaro's breathing was labored, almost rattling, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Aside from his breathing, the only other sound in the room was that of the blood dripping off his palm. Finally, he managed to stand. Without bothering to look at her, he grabbed a clean shirt from his pack and swiftly marched upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

Ino stayed like that, petrified on the spot, for several seconds. It was only the nagging pain in her wrists that brought her back to reality. She decided not to heal them for now in case she needed her chakra later, though they would surely bruise black and ugly. There was no telling what might happen when he returned, and she was not about to be unprepared with no chakra. Once again, Ino seriously doubted her decision to travel with him, end of the world or not.