A/N: Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. As a warning, things get...a little weird in this chapter. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Thirty-nine: Ino Follows Her Heart

When Master Asuma handed her a jar of pickles, Ino realized her sleeplessness caused her to hallucinate. "It's normal," she said, placing the jar in the refrigerator door. "I haven't slept in three days. Hallucinations are normal at this stage."

"Normal, she says. I watched over you three punks for years. I know a thing or two about sleep deprivation and it's far from normal." His stern features softened; he seemed so like the Third Hokage. "Hey, what's with the sad eyes? Aren't you glad to see your master?"

She sat on her knees, surrounded with condiments, veggies, yogurt, milk, dinner leftovers from who-knew-when, and a hodge-podge of other food items. The fridge doors open, a bucket of lemony soap water at her side, and her beloved, slain master casually leaned against her kitchen counter with a cigarette between his lips. He was unchanged: rich olive skin, matte black hair winged backwards from his crown, black trousers and shirt, flak jacket, and the sash at his waist. Hmpf. She blamed the smoke off Shikamaru's clothes. It had lingered in the apartment and since scent had a close association with memory, her mind conjured Master Asuma. He was woven in her heart, with grief and loss and love, and she was so unstable- -a tiny rowboat adrift in a mighty, stormy sea. No small wonder the tears gathered unbidden and stung behind her eyes.

"I miss you," she whispered, bowing her head, stomach tight. She feared he might slip away at any second. He had before. "Every day I wish you were here."

"I hate it when you cry," he said, but he spoke with real affection. How did she remember the timbre and cadence of his voice so well? She smelled another puff of smoke, and she detested her brain, detested the emotional suffocation she couldn't escape. "I've told you a hundred times. Crying doesn't solve anything."

"I'm not crying." She mashed the heels of her hands to her eye sockets, grateful for the familiar reminder. "Thank you for telling me one more time."

Her hold on her high emotion was tenuous at best. At any moment, her little rowboat would capsize under the thrashing waves and she'd sink beneath the dark, violent surface. To further control and calm herself, she arranged the cold foods on the scrubbed shelves, checked expiration dates and trashed anything sentient. Master Asuma let her complete her chore, but she felt him study her, felt him waiting her out. He was better at silent patience; she was more than stubborn. Her movements slow, deliberate, she finished arranging everything inside her refrigerator, and afterward, she put on the kettle for tea. Act normal. You're fine.

"Ready to talk about it?" He meant the blue envelope from Family Life.

"Chouji married Karui," she said instead and set two mugs on the counter, limbs heavy and fingers stiff. "They got back from Kumo yesterday afternoon."

"And Shikamaru married the girl from Suna. Who'd have thought she'd motivate his lazy ass? He swore up and down he'd have nothing to do with women, and if he did, she'd have to be average and quiet. Heh. Didn't turn out how he thought in the slightest." Asuma quirked the corner of his lip, bemused. "How's Sakura? You two seem to be on good terms nowadays."

"Yes, we are. She has her heart set on Sasuke. I think they're slowly settling in to the idea of marriage." Her tone came across harsher than she anticipated because like Shikamaru and Chouji, Sakura was in a relationship with the love of her life. It's unfair. Little Miss Forehead gets the guy of my girlhood dreams.

"Ah, ah. We shouldn't be bitter with our friends' good fortune." Asuma's dark brown eyes danced with his sarcasm. "That blade missed your throat by a fine hair, Ino. Shake it off and discover a better hearth in which to kindle your flame."

Ino smirked. "You are too metaphorical, like your father, but you make a valid point. I've been thinking a lot about love and family recently. Suna and Kumo seem to have strong, talented shinobi. Maybe I should look further afield. Maybe…Kiri?"

"No, not Mist shinobi. Those guys are psychotic freaks." Asuma exhaled plumes of gray smoke out through his nostrils. "Trust me. Stick with Sand or Cloud. They, at least, are loyal to their people and you have a connection to them already through your teammates' wives. But I think you're too hasty. You may have already met your match in our village."

"I have no idea what you mean." Turning from him, she attended the kettle as it boiled and poured the heated water into a teapot to steep and didn't, by some miracle, splash any on her hands. His favored brand of black tea had been stashed in the back of her cabinet where she pretended to forget about it but always kept some stocked. Why? Habit, she'd say, lying. "All the good ones are taken."

"I think what you mean is all the ones you want are taken."

"The good ones are the ones who are taken." She expected him to respond as their conversation clipped along at its usual pace, but when he was silent, she glanced at him (fully expecting him to have disappeared). Asuma watched her, arms crossed and a smile suppressed. "What's so funny?"

"Uchiha Sasuke isn't a good one, and don't argue with me on his account because you won't change my mind. The whole clan is cursed…corrupted." He dragged on the cigarette, and before she could generate a defense for Sasuke, he continued. "Besides, you couldn't stand to be married to either Chouji or Shikamaru. Chouji, because he's fat and eats everything in sight, and Shikamaru, because he's a lazy, sarcastic crybaby. You and Kiba'd argue constantly and neither of you'd get any peace. Naruto wouldn't pay you a lick of attention because of his constant training. Sai's a socially inept machine. Neji's dead and he would've been too much of a cold fish anyway. Lee's weird. So who does that leave?"

"Fine! I get it. I shouldn't focus so much on the Konoha…11…" She trailed off. "You're missing someone."

"Am I?" He had another half-smile up the side of his face. Somehow she had pleased him.

"Yeah. Aburame Shino," whose fluid name had been on her mind, "with the insects."

"Oh, right. One of Kurenai's kiddos." As if he hadn't remembered. "She trained up a good team in them. He seems like a nice fellow. Quiet, patient, controlled…your opposite in almost every way." Her master chuckled at his joke at her expense and accepted the proffered mug of extra caffeinated black tea. Steam curled and mingled with the cigarette smoke. "And opposites do attract."

"While I agree opposites have explosive chemistry, they'll be miserable in the long run. They'll have too few interests to bridge their differences, no common ground. They'd drift apart and find other partners with similar knowledge and hobbies."

"I said opposites in almost every way. Both of you have unsurpassed attention to detail. You both are second-to-none at intelligence retrieval. You both come from a pure lineage of historically loyal clans. You're both brave and smart and good-looking. Sounds like a perfect match."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing." Her protests did nothing to quell the secret thrill inside her heart from Asuma's comparisons. He almost had convinced her. "You're trying to pair me with Aburame Shino?"

"You suggested the good ones are taken, and I'm reminding you one's left. You are so particular about your lovers, and he meets a number of your stringent requirements."

He's right, but I need time to think about it. "We're not talking about this. Should I make a bouquet for Master Kurenai? I can deliver it later today. I haven't seen her in awhile, so it might be nice to catch up."

He sipped from his mug, forcing her unsubtle change of topic to linger between them. Ino kept her concentration on the hot tea in her hand. Asuma may be her master and she often thought about him, but a discussion about her sex life with him was uncomfortable. Also, he was a figment of her imagination. Was the blue envelope also in her imagination? If it wasn't, she was tempted to rip it to shreds, unread, unopened, but she stayed paralyzed in the kitchen, a rowboat tossed from one white-crested wave to another, her balance and heart wobbly in the teeth of the storm.

Asuma heaved a sigh. "You're really going to beat around the bush. That's not very Ino-like."

"And I never knew you to charge forward when feelings were concerned," she snapped. "It took you your entire life to tell Kurenai you loved her. Pardon me if I don't wish to discuss my own feelings with you."

"Your destroyed heart tells a different story. Face this thing you fear. Maybe you'll get some sleep." Open the damned envelope, coward.

At the accusation, she set the mug on the counter, hard enough to slop tea over the rim, and squared up to her dead master, determined to avoid the topic. "A whole month, Master Asuma, a whole month of memories and experiences wiped clean! What could have happened? Why? How?"

"Tch. Stop sidestepping the issue, your highness." Though slow to anger, when Asuma was infuriated, he was magnificent. In her mind, he was the personification of raw power- -physical and energetic. From his broad hands to his broad shoulders, from his head to his heels, he exuded a danger lurking like a tiger in the jungle. "You don't want to discuss the possibility you might have married someone and can't remember any of it. You don't want to discuss how Shino is a marriageable suitor who might be qualified enough to make you happy. What exactly was my purpose in being here?"

Who'd have thought a hallucination could get so worked up?

She faded under his ire, too tired to stand against him and win. A dark cloud passed across her vision. "Tell me what to do. Please. I don't know where to turn."

"Okay," he said, more to comfort her than to calm himself, but his temper simmered beneath the surface. "Okay, but you are intelligent enough to see your options. You don't need me."

Ino grappled with a fist clenched in her heart because she did need him, but Asuma hated clinginess more than he hated tears. She swallowed back a clot in her throat. "You're right. I should gather more intelligence. After work today, I'll visit Shino at the Aburame Square and ask a million questions until I get answers."

"Don't forget the Family Life envelope."

"Yes, of course," she said, lying again. I won't have time to open it before going to the shop. She'd make sure of it- -she excelled at the 'one more thing' game, which she learned from her mother. 'Oh, Ino, one more thing…put the laundry in the dryer, please,' or 'Ino, one more thing before you go…iron your father's vest for me while I get the sheets off the line.' "I should get ready for work. Daddy's pissed at me in the first place, so I shouldn't be late."

His eyebrows crunched over the bridge of his nose. "He should be. Pettiness is beneath you."

"Yeah. I was wrong." She didn't excuse her bad behavior.

"Don't let it happen again," he told her. He pinned a stern glare on her she wouldn't soon forget. "Because if it does, I'll haunt the shit out of you."

With that final rejoinder, he blipped out of her kitchen. There one second; gone the next. As she coped with his abrupt departure, she poured out the tea from the mugs and placed them side-by-side in the sink. Well, a haunting wasn't much of a threat as she would be glad to have his company, and out of the blue, she giggled at how he'd react when his plan backfired. She stood there, laughing like a loon, to disguise the old headache thumping at her brain, the fissure lacerating her soul. Everything felt off-balance. Events and emotions and memories dipped and spun, and they blasted her one minute and scurried away the next. Her mind rubbed a worried thumb across the missing month; what had she lost? Was she insane or becoming insane?

"Dearest? Are you feeling well?"

At Mom's quiet, almost whispery, voice, Ino jerked around. She hadn't heard her mother open the door or heard her call or even her approach. Yamanaka Masami's sudden appearance was overwhelming because she was so beautiful and classy and sophisticated, her presence emanating culture and good breeding: the pressed, deep green dress was well tailored and high quality, her nails sported a perfect manicure, and her glossy, chestnut hair was coiffed in a stylish bun on her crown. Light make-up accentuated radiant, moisturized skin. Not a hair out of place, not a thread loose, no wasted movement, and excellent posture despite a tricky back. Although Mom was a civilian, Ino had a much more difficult time persuading, winning arguments, and generally talking herself out of mischief when her mother confronted her.

Mom watched with pupilless, nut-brown eyes. "Ino? Did you hear me?"

Ino nodded, muddled and numb. Daddy must've sent Mom to ensure her good health and well-being. With a fluidity she didn't think she possessed, Ino switched to her 'everything's normal' mask. "Good morning, Mom. Should I brew coffee for you?"

"No, thank you." She glided (yes, her mother glided) closer and smoothed a stray hair from Ino's face. "You've been standing at the kitchen sink for awhile. I'm surprised you didn't hear me knock or come in."

"I've…had a lot on my mind."

"Your father wondered if you'd be in to work this morning. He said you were sick yesterday and had to leave the shop early." As all mothers tend to do, she cupped her hand against Ino's forehead. "Something about the flu?"

"Maybe. I feel fine today."

"Fine enough to go in to the shop?" The lift of Mom's brow demonstrated heavy skepticism. "You look blotchy and your eyes are glassy red. Did you sleep last night?"

"A little." Liar, liar, pants on fire… "I promise I'm fine."

"I see." Mom shifted away. "Would you like help dressing? It'd be nice to spend a few more minutes with you. I haven't seen you in several days."

I'm fine.

Ugh. Guilt trip, and also, Ino was too tired to fuss; her whole body seemed unable to perform coordinated movement, and her eyes burned scratchy-hot. She agreed to let Mom help her 'dress' for work, which meant hair, make-up, and outfit with matching shoes and accessories. Ino led Mom upstairs into the bedroom where they managed to wash Ino's hair in the bathroom, and after twisting the entirety of it into a towel, they discussed a few sundresses in the closet until choosing a pale blue one with elegant buttons along the spine. Then as Ino sat at her vanity, Mom picked up the mysterious lacquered comb to detangle her daughter's hair and because Ino wore her mask like a second skin, she convinced Mom to braid her voluminous hair into one thick, blonde rope to prevent aggravation to her headache. All the while, Mom sang a soft lullaby in her opera-trained soprano, and as Ino listened, she tried to think where she'd heard the song before.

"Where did you find this lovely pin?" Mom asked as she lifted the clover bush pin from the vanity. She let the sunlight play inside the colorful gems and entranced, Ino watched the deep bursts of color explode inside each jewel. "It's antique and very expensive. The design of it…it could be an heirloom."

"It was a gift." Did she lie? It had felt like the truth when she said it. How could she know? "I…don't remember who gave it to me."

Mom unlatched the pin and affixed it with nimble, careful fingers to Ino's dress front. "There. Doesn't that look pretty?" Mom took her in with a faint smile. "My, my. You look more like your father each day. Shall we do make-up?"

As Ino predicted, she did not have time to open the Family Life envelope, but she did tuck the comb into her hip pouch. She didn't know why. She supposed she couldn't stand to leave it behind without the pin; they'd been together since Wednesday on her vanity- -no sense in separating them, and, her rational side added, should someone recognize the pin or where it came from, they might also be able to tell her more about the comb. Mom tucked her arm into Ino's and linked together, they strolled along the sidewalk in the hot summer morning.

Already the sun cooked the cement and refracted light in the distance into silver shimmers. Ino was glad to have someone beside her because she was vague on the details of where she was. Her brain had stopped creating lucid thoughts, and instead, she was purely reactionary to her environment, unable to shake the fuzz from the edges of her vision and the cotton stuffed inside her head. Insomnia will mess you up, kids.

"This morning feels like a change is coming," Mom murmured beside her, her face tilted upwards to the endless sky. "The air…it's so full of a strange energy."

The best Ino could do was a half-interested "Oh?"

"I can't explain it. Must be getting old."

Afterwards, Ino was never sure how they managed to arrive at the flower shop. One moment she walked beside her mother, listening to the latest village gossip- -and Mom had many reliable sources thanks to the singing lessons she taught to women of all stations- -and the next moment, she stood in front her furious father. He practically had steam shooting out from his ears, and everything on his face had curled and puckered in anger. Chest heaved, cheeks flush, and his chakra pulsed inside him.

"I…" Ino glanced around, blinking, as realization sank in. "What?"

His voice lowered, went cold. "Have you not heard a word I've said?"

Ino hesitated. There was no correct way to respond, and she couldn't think of what to do. Tears threatened but didn't fall, and the sudden dryness in her tear ducts was unusual. A great pressure surged against her skull and chest. Dark everywhere; the sky was iron gray and glowered. Water sprayed her face, her arms, her legs, lapped at her ankles (how? why?)- -her tiny rowboat needed bailing, but she had no bucket. Enraged wind screamed, tore at her clothes and hair, filled her ears. An endless, heaving ocean surrounded her, bounced her up and down in the boat, and she'd drown in it, was drowning in it; no escape, no help for miles and miles. Her heart rate soared. Lungs were starved for air, so she took short, gulping breaths as her limbs tingled and went numb. The sane, medical part of her brain recognized the panic attack.

Daddy's mouth moved, but his face and posture no longer indicated anger. Instead, he leaned forward in concern, one hand on her shoulder.

She heard herself say, gasping, "I can't breathe."

Had she kept on her mask? She wasn't sure. Daddy guided her with a hand between her shoulder blades. As they moved through the back, Ino felt it took them an age to reach the backdoor and when they finally pushed into the open air, the hot sun and the green lawn and the vivacious flowers greeted her like old friends. The rush of fresh air revived her and dissolved the furious ocean, and gladdened, she dropped to her knees in front of a bed of hydrangea, the tight cluster of magenta blooms nodding in a soft breeze. She stared at it until she got a handle on her breathing, and she had gained back the feeling in her hands and feet.

"Talk to me! What happened?" Daddy knelt at her side. "Do you need the hospital?"

"No, I'm okay." Ino shook her head. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I guess I pushed myself to come to work."

"You didn't have to do that. If you need rest, just say so." He tucked a stand of hair behind her ear, reminiscent of Mom. "Will you be okay out here by yourself? I'll see if we can't get someone in to cover your shift."

"Yes, thank you."

Daddy left her after a few more minutes, and Ino sighed in relief. Why hadn't she told her father, or even her mother, about the insomnia? This is bad. I need to tell someone about what's happening, she thought, fondling a silky petal on the hydrangea. But the idea of another few nights spent in the hospital when she had mysteries to solve appalled her. On the bloom she touched, a blue-black beetle crawled. On the beetle's back were white undulating strokes, and curious, Ino leaned closer for a better look. The beetle's legs and feet were delicate spindles, the eyes were a odd, misty blue, and powerful jaws clicked together. Ino had the feeling the beetle was an important female and familiar somehow, but why she had that specific notion, she didn't know.

"Where did you come from?" she asked, and in her fascination, held out a finger to her. The beetle wavered antennae, testing the air. "Maybe one of the Aburame can tell me who you are."

Then the beetle crept onto Ino's fingertip. As soon as the insect touched her skin, a compulsion to visit the Aburame Square resonated through her. Ino was impulsive, yes, but this was not an impulse. This little beetle's command was clear as day. They had to go, and they had to go now. Ino could not fight back; Go to the Aburame was branded inside her head. It was all she could think, all she could hear, and besides, Ino was far too weakened to put up much of a struggle. She stood, nudged the beetle onto the clover bush pin, and strode into the flower shop to inform her father of her plans. They almost collided inside the doorway as Daddy came to find her.

"The Aburame clan has an emergency situation. Shibi's requested my assistance in the matter. I'm closing the shop, so you can go home," he told her as he turned on his heel.

She followed him as he backtracked to his office and began loading up a satchel with vials and unguents and scrolls from a shelf against the wall. "What's happened?"

"I'm not sure I should say."

"Daddy, what's happened?" she asked again, this time with more force. Her heart filled her throat, and she smelled the angry sea as it reached to swallow her whole.

"Shino's gone missing."

"He's…missing." She stood aside as Daddy rushed past her and into the storefront to the till, where he pulled the drawer. Then he hurried back into his office and dropped to a knee at the safe in the corner. "I don't understand. It's Aburame Shino. He's, like, the most reliable one of us."

"Yes, so you can understand why his clan is in an uproar, and I've been requested to help track him." The day's money secured, Daddy stood. She never seen him so harried before. "I'm sorry I can't see you home. Think you'll be okay?"

Go to the Aburame.

"I think I should go with you," she said, and before he could outright reject her, rushed to say, "My sensory ability almost matches your own, and Shino's one of the Konoha 11. Two sensors are better than one." Her father hesitated, so she sandwiched her hands together. "Please, pretty please? I promise to behave myself. And you don't have time to argue with me."

"You come along on the condition that you listen to me, understand? Shibi is a very old, very dear friend, and I'd hate to step on his toes. This matter is extremely delicate and must be treated with the highest confidentiality."

"I understand."

Daddy flipped the sign in the front window to 'Closed' and locked up the shop behind them. Together, they used the high road- -a sprint across the Konoha rooftops to avoid pedestrian traffic in the streets. Somehow, her exhaustion and the permeated smog in her brain had dispelled, so she kept pace with Daddy. She didn't ask further questions even though she bubbled with them. They made it to the Aburame Square in record time, but when they landed on the road beyond the archway indicating the property line of the square, Ino found Daddy's term 'uproar' to be exaggerated. The square seemed deserted since everyone searched for the heir apparent.

"Shibi's waiting for us at the main house," Daddy said. "Follow me."

She didn't need a guide because after her initial reaction to the deserted square, a flood of déjà vu washed over her. It made sense, she told herself, she'd done the work for the Amagawa garden located around here. They hurried around the central park area to a side with a two-storey, main house neighboring a one-storey household, and Ino recognized both houses, with a distinct feeling she'd been inside the one-storey house and knew its intimate secrets.

When they knocked at the main house's door, it slid open a second later to reveal a hunched, older fellow, with a bald head and white eyebrows and a droopy white mustache. The pallor of his skin alerted Ino to his anguished state. In fact, the whole house seemed leached with a thick, tangible malaise. Oof. Things aren't pretty.

"You the ones Shibi requested?" he asked without a greeting. At Daddy's terse affirmation, he stepped aside to let them into the house. "C'mon. He's in the study down the hall."

Ino and Daddy removed their shoes, and as she leaned to unhook her sandal straps, her long braid draped forward over her breast. Daddy led her down the cool, shadowed hallway and rapped at the doorframe. "Shibi? We've arrived."

"Enter."

Daddy slid the shoji open to a traditional study. It was how Ino imagined the Aburame study would look like- -a place for everything and everything in its place. Wood gleamed, polished with regularity, books and scrolls were neat and organized on shelves. Mr. Aburame stood at an antique desk with an enormous piece of parchment unrolled on the desktop. From behind Daddy, she saw the parchment was a map of the Aburame Square. She hovered in the middle distance as Daddy approached Mr. Aburame. To be frank, Ino had never seen an Aburame flustered before, but the shock of Shino's disappearance was obvious in Mr. Aburame's grave features and how he paced at the desk.

"I hope you don't mind. I brought my daughter Ino along." Daddy gestured to her. "She may be of further assistance to us."

"Anyone you can think of to be discrete and conclude this business quickly is welcome," replied Mr. Aburame, his attention on the map. He traced a section with his finger. "He can't be far."

"What's his condition?"

"Thursday morning, his kikaichu abandoned him and returned to their colony inside the insect sanctuary. Because our male kikaichu tracks the females' scents, we are unable to use our own insects to track him without him hosting any females. Shino's queen kikaichu was our next option, but she is nowhere to be found. That, in and of itself, is unprecedented. His chakra levels were so low, we deemed it necessary to put him in the clinic for further observation, but sometime during the night, he…left. We believed he would be found much sooner."

"What does the queen kikaichu look like?" Ino asked. He had reminded her of the blue-black beetle with the strange white marks.

Mr. Aburame noticed her then and though he wore dark sunglasses, she felt his harsh appraisal. Nervously, she flipped her braid back over her shoulder. In a second, his aura switched from frantic to livid and an aggressive, disturbing buzz hummed in the air. Frightened under the sudden change in atmosphere, she took an involuntary step back. All the blood had drained from Mr. Aburame's face. She'd never seen a furious Aburame- -for the second time in as many minutes, she witnessed what few had ever lived to see.

He pointed at her. "What are you wearing?"

She hadn't the faintest idea why she offended him. "A dress…?" What did Mr. Aburame have against dresses? Was it the color?

"The pin," he said, lips tight. His look and tone accused her of an unspeakable crime. "Where did you get it?"

The pin. Throat dry, stomach bottoming out, her confusion left her unmoored. She cupped her hand over the pin, but why she did, she didn't know. It was a gift. But was it? She wasn't sure. She was, once more, asked a question with no correct answer, and under Mr. Aburame's glare, her answer mattered. The pin had activated a fury in him that raked at her, and when her father turned to her, he looked like he didn't recognize her, like he was sickened at the sight of her. Shame and humiliation rose in a hot tide up her chest to her face. What do I do? The familiar headache whammed her forehead and with the pain, she couldn't think.

"Answer the man," Daddy said, quiet and choked.

"I…I don't remember." It was the truth because under her father's astute observation, she could tell no lies, and she was afraid to with Mr. Aburame observing. "It was…on my flak jacket Wednesday morning."

"A thief and a liar," Mr. Aburame intoned, all semblance of control vanishing. A low hiss sizzled from him. Where did the noise come from? His insects? "That pin is a priceless Aburame clan heirloom. You did not come to possess it by accident or coincidence. Hand it to me at once!"

His demand pushed her into a further retreat; had she been more collected, cooler, she'd have responded differently, but the confusion and the awful presence cast a long, cold shadow on her, weakening her until she was powerless. Despite the free-fall of her emotions, she didn't want to surrender the pin. For some reason, she knew it belonged to her, that it had been given to her by someone important. Who? Who would have given it to her?

Hesitating, Ino locked eyes with Daddy, both of them numbed and mortified with Mr. Aburame's accusation, but she saw in an instant her father would not defend her. And then harsh stinging laced the back of her eyes. Damn it. Tears wouldn't solve this problem. She controlled herself, and, straightening her shoulders, decided she wouldn't give these men the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Daddy believed Mr. Aburame over his own daughter, but she had to fight, had to defend herself.

"I'm telling the truth. You know I'm telling the truth!" An infinite ocean tumbled her in her teeny-tiny boat. She couldn't catch her breath. "Daddy, please, you can see it! There's a rational explanation!"

For a moment, Daddy's chakra swept inside her and he accepted her belief in what she remembered, but what she remembered was too fragmented, too abstract. It wasn't enough to change his mind. Apparently, Mr. Aburame had a much more thorough knowledge of the clover bush pin. Daddy was pallid, and she had felt his keen disappointment in her, the humiliation he felt. She gasped at the wound slashed across her tender heart. Water splashed her, wind ripped her, slamming her off-balance in the wrath of the typhoon.

"Give him the pin. Now."

She could do nothing further. Daddy's mind was set against her; Mr. Aburame's, too. With shaking fingers, Ino fumbled at the pin's clasp, but couldn't unlatch it. Daddy loomed in front of her, and pulling her hands from the pin, undid the catch. He didn't quite get it loose, so when he yanked at it, he tore the fabric of her dress a bit. To Ino, it felt as though he tore her beating heart from her chest. Still, she fought the outburst of tears; still, she stood with steel in her spine, and with defiance in the lift of her chin, gazed forward at Mr. Aburame as Daddy handed him the jewelry.

Daddy performed a respectful bow. "A lifetime of apologies, Shibi."

"It is not you who should apologize," Mr. Aburame replied, coldly, holding the pin as if it were something repellent.

Never. Never would she offer an apology to this horrid man. She didn't need his stupid forgiveness anyway, but Daddy twisted and issued her a stare so poignant and furious, she shrank from him. Thwarted, breathless, Ino also bowed, her muscles unwilling. She couldn't stand to be there a second longer. She vowed never to step foot in this house, on this land, again in her life.

"I'm…sorry." The words caught in her throat. "Please forgive me."

"Thank you. We will speak of this no more." He paused. "You are dismissed."

How dare he! She snapped up straight. Just like that, her confusion and powerlessness evaporated. His casual dismissal of her- -as though she posed no threat to him- -sparked her own fury. From a deep well, the sense of injustice which had gathered since Wednesday surged with unstoppable force. Hot fire burned her original fear to ash, and Daddy must've sensed the path of her emotion, because he grabbed her arm and jerked her around to the exit before she could lunge at Mr. Aburame. She was blind in her rage and writhed in his grasp, but Daddy put her into a headlock to force her out the door. Ino struggled in vain. Behind her, Mr. Aburame stood, in total control, and because he repulsed her, she shot him a haughty glare before Daddy shut the door.

"You are out of control. Leave." He squeezed her neck in his elbow crease to be sure she understood. "Go straight home."

"But…"

"No. You have embarrassed and humiliated me enough for one day. Go home. You had better be there when I come for you." Daddy released her from the headlock and as she gasped, scrambling for an argument, he silenced her with one harsh look. "That's enough. Go. Home."

Then he went back into the study and slapped closed the door in a final sort of way. Dizzied, unsteady, water lapping at her ankles, she stared at the door panel. Her boat capsized. Where am I? How do I survive? She staggered along the hall. Water closed in over her head; she flailed to the surface, her lungs starved for air. Darkness, confusion- -she came to a door, opened it and stumbled out into heat and sunlight and sagged to her knees. What's happening?

A horrendous pressure swelled up, and, oh no, she was about to lose her hold on herself. The anger and the helplessness and the emptiness consumed her. Cold, black waves crashed over her, dragging her under the surface. She was hurt, so hurt, bleeding everywhere and in too much pain. Terrified of the power of those emotions, of what would happen once she lost control of them, she climbed to her feet and sprinted along a gravel path, under some tendrils of ivy, and into a back garden. Whose garden, she didn't know, didn't care, and she stopped short at a familiar little koi pond.

Here it came, oh, here came the crush of a tsunami, and with it a massive build-up of chakra, and breathless, heart shattered, she formed signs with her hands, some inner-voice guiding her, and with a terrible scream, she stomped, unleashing the jutsu into the earth through her foot. The force of it ran her network ragged and singed her skin. She held nothing back. Chakra filtered into the ground, deep, deep, deeper still, and rippled outwards to the very edges of the garden and perhaps even beyond, she didn't know. She crumpled to the grass, doubled over, and screamed and screamed, her agony endless and real, and paired with the downpour of tears were wracking sobs- -sobs so hard she might hyperventilate, but she didn't care, she didn't care, no one understood, no one saw through the mask, no one could save her from drowning.

And so from a distance, she was surprised to be gathered up, and her hot, wet face snuggled into the crook of a neck. She thought, Daddy? But, no, the presence wasn't her father's. Her body was limp as a noodle, so whoever carried her was strong enough to handle her dead weight. She didn't question; she couldn't see from her swollen eyes; she allowed everything to happen because she hadn't finished bawling and she needed someone else to deal with her. Nothing was said to her, and she needed no words and couldn't form a coherent sentence anyway. Sobs convulsing her, she floated...floated...

Her floating ended when she was laid out on a soft, solid surface- -she supposed a bed- -and the softness molded to her body. Her outburst wound down not because she was any calmer, but because she had exhausted herself. Tissues found their way into her hand. Gratefully, she blew her nose until she could snuffle and snot didn't drip anymore. She lay back. Time passed. When a straw touched her lips, she sipped cool, sweet water across her parched tongue and tracked the liquid through her abused throat. After a few more sips, she was finished with the water, feeling a touch better. Then a cold compress settled across her burning, gummy eyes and her forehead, where a headache niggled at her, but she didn't pay it attention. The compress felt so good, and she was safe with someone nurturing her, providing everything she needed without her saying anything, and her restless, wired brain started to chill out.

"I'm…so tired," she said to whoever hovered nearby.

"Then sleep," rumbled the voice, which was quiet and soothed her in about a second. At his suggestion, she dropped away into an undisturbed sleep.

A/N: And let the fangirling begin. Some of you were frightened our two main characters would be separated forever. Heh, you should know me by now. Introduced Ino's mom finally as she becomes somewhat integral to the plot later. I've been wanting to write a lengthy interaction between Ino and Asuma for awhile and gave myself an excuse to do it. Hope you don't mind it too much. Leave some love in the comments. Shino chapter coming up. See you then!