Sound
It's his favorite thing about her, really, her laughter. One would expect that with her obvious outward beauty that every laugh that would leave her full lips would be just as beautiful. But no, that's not the case, and that's exactly what he finds so alluring about her. Her laughter is raw, ragged, and overflowing with pain. She doesn't hide how her kunoichi life has affected it, or maybe it's something she hasn't noticed. Maybe she just pretends not to. Either way, the raw fragility of it entrances him. He can navigate the wounds that they seep from, the deep rooted anguish deep inside her. He can hear it; all in her laughter.
He imagines that, one day, it won't be as frayed. He imagines that someday it will be like the peal of bells.
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She tried to tell herself that it was a dream that night. Buries it deep, beneath the memories of fallen comrades, shinobi killed by her own hand, and tears of regret that don't quite extinguish the fire of fury. She forgets about it, doesn't think twice. But every now and again, it claws its way up from the grave.
It's whenever the breeze passes through the wooden wind chimes in front of the flower shop that she does remember. That is a feat in and of itself, considering the chimes have been removed to the farthest corner to prevent this particular memory from reeling its head.
But today has the wind rushing through the village; the shutters slamming violently against the windows and the screaming groans of trees as they are nearly tipped. And Ino cannot help but close her eyes and remember the sound of Karasu's wooden joints as Kankuro left that night.