A/N: Welcome back, dear readers and lurkers. I hope you have had a good week. Work is starting up for me again, so I will do my very best to remain on my posting schedule. Enjoy!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Miyazato's grip was a steel vise on her arm as he guided her out of the current room to the neighboring one, the marriage contract forgotten on the rumpled bed. In the medium-sized suite, the three stylists had constructed stations- -hair and make-up, dress and accessories. Miyazato brought her to a halt at the bathroom door.

"You will allow the attendants to assist with your bath. I'll wait just over there," he said, mouth on the shell of her ear, "and be assured, I'll watch everything."

Ino nodded as she entertained a fantasy in which she castrated him. Miyazato released her into the care of the two ladies in the bathroom. She was not shy by any means, and without prompting, disrobed to give herself over to ladies' care. They scrubbed her with fancy soap from head to toe, and treated her hair to shampoo and conditioner models used before the runway. Normally, Ino would adore the attention and the expensive products, but she was not offered them as a choice; no, she must allow herself to be extorted or sign innocent people's death warrants.

I can be free from the cage with the right plan. But what plan? Ino did not attempt to speak to the women while they hosed her with water and rinsed her of suds. Rather, her mind picked apart different scenarios to gain distance and time. Miyazato had her under his thumb whether or not she was with him because of the marriage contract, but she might be able to find a way to null the contract before Miyazato further ensnared her.

How to gain time, even a few hours' worth? Her best option was to break away while the photographs were taken. It would be easy for her to request a bathroom break or time to solve a manufactured hair or dress emergency. Yet, she felt any excuse she'd give, he'd argue or insinuate himself into accompanying her, so what iron-clad reason would be enough for him to let her go for a while? Shintenshin might work- -possess one of these stylists and go for help, but Miyazato could notice her become unresponsive. It was best to leave under her own volition, with a good excuse.

The best excuse would have to be from an authority figure, someone official with whom Miyazato could not argue. Sakura could call Ino away for health reasons, but notifying her through Mind Transmission of anything amiss might put her and everyone in the hospital at risk, and since Ino did not know Miyazato's capabilities, she ought to find a way to divert attention from innocent people. Shikamaru would expect her for a debriefing, maybe not today, but soon, which was a valid enough reason for her to leave Miyazato's side. She couldn't come out and say she had a debriefing since Miyzato would question her, perhaps ask for names of her teammates, where she would be, the time she'd be back, and she had to evade any controlling factors he may have over her. So how was she to leave Miyazato without him foiling her?

"Miss Ino? You're ready for the hair stylist," said one of the attendants. She held a white robe for Ino to don.

She slipped into it. "Thank you. You've been a big help."

Someone would have to come and collect her, and in disguise no less. Someone with unquestionable authority- -Anbu was a possibility, but they were hard to detect and harder to convince to complete unrelated side quests. Another on-duty shinobi who could transform into Anbu, then. For her plan to work, she had to remain calm and passive to give no indication of any subterfuge. Ino approached the chair positioned at a wonderful mirror with lights along the edges, the kind you might see behind the scenes at a play or television show. The stylist fooled with her hair as he assessed the texture and thickness of it.

"Excellent, excellent, magnificent," he said and with a flourish, he attached the cloth cape around her neck. "Such gorgeous tresses. Are we thinking of an up-do? Or keep it down?"

"Use your discretion," Ino replied. Under the cape, her fingers formed the sensory hand seal. Chakra sensory would give her a direction to aim for in Mind Transmission and also survey who was available to help her. "I'm sure Mr. Miyazato will voice his opinions should the style be one he dislikes."

"Yes...I'm thinking...wisps to frame those big baby blues. Some locks swept into a high knot, the rest in a low braid? Hm," he muttered to himself, comb and scissors in his hands.

Ino ignored him and used the mirror to track Miyazato's movements. He lounged on a comfortable chair in the corner, legs crossed, and as one hand supported his head, the other tapped a bored rhythm on his knee. He leaned with a discontented tilt, and despite his assertion he'd watch the room, his eyes focused on the distance. However, his posture, his gaze, could be an act to lull her into a careless move, but she'd have to risk it.

"I'm a bit sleepy. Do you mind if I close my eyes?" she asked. The stylist hm-hmed as he snipped split ends and flipped her hair to and fro.

Here was her chance. Ino poured her chakra into her sensory jutsu, the energy a menthol tingle under her skin alongside her arteries and veins. The hospital had strong chakra signatures dotted in a sporadic pattern in her radius, but those were doctors and medics or injured shinobi, and none who'd obey her without question. Miyazato's signature was suppressed, still. Shame. With pinpoint chakra control, she spread its spherical range. At the outer circumference, she detected a cool inky signature somewhere above her on the roof, and in her relief to sense him, her control of the jutsu slackened, but not enough to disturb the jutsu. A smooth segue of hand seals, and Mind Transmission was cast toward Sai's chakra signature. She felt like she was in an enormous pitch black arena, arms stretched out in front of her, trying to find him, and when her hands collided with him, she gripped him hard.

Sai?

He startled upright, but he didn't attempt to reject the uncomfortable connection as so many shinobi tended to do. Ino, he thought. I'm waiting for you outside the hospital. Shikamaru asked me to escort you to the mission debrief. Where are you?

A situation is happening, she thought to him, and I need a...soft extraction. Henge an Anbu disguise. Wait a while for me to exit the hospital. The signal is when I bend over to adjust my shoe. When you extract me, say I have an urgent briefing to attend. Don't answer any further questions. Do you copy?

A pause on his end. I copy. I'll come to you if I don't see you exit the hospital.

He didn't ask a single question, and relieved, Ino released the technique. All she could do was wait and try to plan what to do after her 'rescue'. If she were Shikamaru, she'd have the next twenty moves planned out. Oh, to be a genius. She ought to talk to Uncle Ibiki about Miyazato, but his neglectful attitude toward her summons worried her. Was he compromised? And she had to figure out who used her family's hidden technique on Isao. More disturbing was the likelihood the unknown shinobi might have access to other hidden techniques, and was using them against her family or herself. The thought nauseated her.

Many minutes later, the stylist completed Ino's hair. She smiled and agreed it looked amazing, brilliant work, really, but it was not her usual style. Half her hair was knotted in a loose, messy bun, some millions of hair pins kept the strands in place; the rest braided and pulled forward over her shoulder. Black gemstones like shiny insects dotted the strands- -she swore one of them moved. Similarly, the make-up artist did the whole shebang with moisturizer, concealer, foundation, etcetera; and while Ino was no stranger to it, the sheer amount of rubbing, lining, brushing, and dabbing frightened her. Like her hair, Ino thought the make-up was all wrong, but swallowed back her negative comments.

She did not appreciate the sexy black underwear she was told to put on, the spicy-thick perfume Miyazato spritzed on her (which exacerbated the bundle of nerves as they pulsated in her brain), and she tried on a dozen dresses before Miyazato chose a hideous fuchsia one, skin-tight, and barely long enough to cover her goods. The strappy stiletto shoes she'd wear to a club, break an ankle in, and never wear again, but she wore them for him. Not a single article on her person she'd choose for an engagement photo, but that was the idea, wasn't it? Proof she had no choice, no breathing room, no one to save her. To further shackle her, Miyazato had her wear an intricately designed and outrageous jet choker and earrings and bracelets, which did choke her and yank her lobes to her shoulders and weigh her arms to the floor.

"You are fit to greet the gods, dearest pet," Miyazato sang, and had her spin this way and that for a final inspection. "Exquisite. You'll be the talk of town, my magnificent wife-to-be."

Furious, throat tight, Ino asked, "Where is the photographer?"

"Oh, darling. Not one, but several. All the major news publications across the Five Nations will be present for our engagement shoot. I thought you were aware," he said, knowing she'd had no idea, the sadistic dickhead. "Aren't you excited?"

"Thrilled." She hated it. But she plastered a smile on her face (I'm Happy Ino, see?) because innocent people surrounded her and Miyazato might be psychopathic and capable enough to kill everyone in the vicinity. "Shall we? I'm sure they await us with bated breath."

He considered her a moment, but opened the door for her without another word. As she passed him, he slapped her ass. She glared daggers at him, the temper so close to the surface, any more and she'd generate a nimbus and burn off the clothes, the make-up, the jewels. And Miyazato had the dare in his gray eyes, the smirk double-dog daring her to put up a fight, but Ino coolly ignored the assault on her rear and strode with confident, albeit clipped, steps to the hospital entrance.

Miyazato strode beside her, and when they exited the hospital, his hand settled on her lower back. She bit down a hysterical scream and tried to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest. A gaggle of men and women in business-casual clothes were clustered under the hospital's veranda. Their cameras dangled on long straps from their necks, and when they caught sight of Miyazato outside, they rushed over in one body, shouting his name. Ino realized Miyazato had meant photographers and journalists. Shit.

"Mr. Miyazato! Is she the blushing bride you mentioned in your earlier interview with Konoha Daily?" asked one.

"Mr. Miyazato, do you have any remarks for your upcoming nuptials?"

"Miss, can you tell us who you're wearing?"

"Miss, how do you feel about becoming Mrs. Miyazato?"

And on and on. Ino maintained her composure and looped her arm through Miyazato's. She didn't answer any questions. "Darling," she said, false cheer rotten-ripe in her mouth, "our pictures would look best in the flower garden, wouldn't you say?"

Miyazato returned her smile. "You must be able to read my mind. I'd expect nothing less."

Her toes and heels shrieked at her with each step; she circulated medical chakra to take the bite out of the pain. The morning was wet with dew, greens and golds fresh and lush, and a myriad of spring colors splashed the hospital garden she had helped to plant. Several enormous bushes, laden with fragrant white blossoms, swayed in the breeze- -early Konoha spirea, or the bridal wreath shrub. How fitting. The white background wouldn't clash with Ino's dress or Miyazato's teal haori and kimono, and when she gestured to it, Miyazato, shockingly, agreed with her.

Spirea boughs overreached a section of the walkway, so the heels of her shoes wouldn't puncture through the soft earth. She controlled an impulse to leap into the bushes, to sink into the smothering arms of the limbs, burrow to the roots of them and disperse herself so next spring, the white flowers were dyed blood-red. With this morbid thought, she posed on Miyazato's arm and didn't projectile vomit. The time is nearly here. Be patient. Wait.

"Smile for the cameras, dearest pet," he whispered to her. The fingers digging into her hip felt like granite, and she detected no warmth from Miyazato. He was as cold and haughty as the peak of a mountain. "Look happy and in love, for the sake of everyone near us."

As the cameras flashed, a nebulous force condensed in her head, a massive swell on the far horizon.

The whole ordeal took about fifteen minutes, but to Ino, who clung to her sanity, the time was eternal. Her smile wavered towards the end. At last, the flashes ceased- -black spots crawled across her vision- -and Miyazato took questions from the journalist, withdrawing his arm from her as he did so. Ino wobbled, saved her balance with strong core muscles, and recognized an opportunity when it knocked. She bent to inspect a strap on her perfect shoe, hoping Sai was attentive.

She needn't have worried.

One second he wasn't there; the next, he was. That was how Sai arrived at the scene- -without a fuss, efficient and silent. He wore the Anbu gear like she suggested, a hawk mask on his face, katana strapped to his back. He said, "Yamanaka Ino, your presence is required for an urgent meeting. Please come with me."

He held out a hand to her, which wasn't usual Anbu protocol. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. She stepped forward, ready to be gone, but was jerked backwards; Miyazato's steel grip on her elbow held her in place. So close...

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. "You don't have permission to leave."

"I'm-"

Sai seemed to jump through time and space. He was a few meters distant; then in a blink, he was an inch from them, his hand clenched on Miyazato's wrist. The speed of the movement frightened her. Miyazato, taken off guard, released her arm, and his mouth and eyes flip-flopped between fear and fury. When Miyazato let go, so had Sai.

Sai spoke, and unmistakable danger threaded the words together. "Her presence is required for an urgent meeting. You have no authority to detain her."

Nothing more. Sai dipped, and in another blink of an eye, Ino was lifted and carried away. The feeling she had the moment Sai bound a far arc across a breathless expanse of space took her straight backwards in time to when she was six years old clutched to her father's chest as he hurtled over roofs and through trees at top speed for the hell of it. Her arm was around Sai's shoulders for balance; one of his arms under the bend of her knees, the other barred against her back, and dear heavens, how did he have the strength when he was average weight, average height, not a guy with a lot of bulk in his chest and biceps? She thought about Kiba the last time he carried her off; he'd declared his love for her and they had argued. A sick, slimy parasite coiled in her heart. She gasped in discomfort, choosing instead to worry about Kiba when she had time to worry about him, and studied the smooth white neck under the smooth white mask.

But fear was not to be ignored. Miyazato and the marriage contract ever intruded her thoughts, a swift undoing of her efforts to be calm, remain steady, and think ahead. The distant tempest gathered strength above the chop of water. It rushed closer...

Sai was not one to drag his feet. They landed smack in the middle of the Office's roof in record time, near the same spot from which they had lifted off two weeks prior. He had taken her in a whirlwind fashion, so she struggled to find her balance when he set her upright on her shackle-heels. Everything was saturated with color, bright, with black shadow outlines; she knew the panic attack would overcome her soon, but they did not have time for hysterics. Sai released the henge to return himself to normal. She was glad to see him, but his disgust was evident as he took in her fuchsia dress, the jet jewelry, her impeccable face and hair.

"What've they done to you?" he asked. "I hate your new look. It's all wrong for you."

As the panic whooshed along inside her, his frank assessment of her outfit reminded her of her new position as a trophy wife. "I know. I-" didn't have a choice, she was about to add, but the situation with Miyazato stabbed her in the stomach. Good, she thought, giddily, at least it wasn't in my back.

And, if that wasn't enough, the choker constricted her airway, the dress itched like a flea-ridden burlap sack, and the marriage contract...the marriage contract was her permanent locked cage. Queasy, she spun away and staggered to the roof's edges, leaving Sai blended in shadow behind her. Along the perimeter of the roof was a ledge about to her waist, and she planted her hands on the rough, sun-baked cement and bent down, hopefully to prevent a vomiting episode. She could not do it, she could not fake wellness and happiness in front of Shikamaru with her world in the throes of an apocalypse.

I have to. I have to be fine to protect my precious people. Ino stretched up, arching her back so her head was tilted skywards. Inhaled. You are a bird. You have wings and a beak and talons. Space opened for her as she became a forest hawk; she swooped from the Office's roof and flapped into a tailwind from the east as myriad buildings of the village rushed beneath her. At the barrier wall, she hit an updraft, shooting her miles above land, where she wheeled and hovered in balance. Ah, yes, the ecstasy of freedom, pure elation, because no one controlled her mind, and she tucked her wings to dive-bomb the dense Konoha oaks, elms, and cottonwoods. Her speed in the dive increased, edged into uncontrolled territory, before she whistled through a break in the shaded foliage, executing a series of barrel-rolls, pitches and yaws to miss branches and trunks. The forest ended at the silky shores of a black lake, reflective of the dense stream of stars overhead, where she skimmed the mirror surface with wing-tips and talons, and then soared so high she could view miles of nighttime landscape in every direction. Distant thunderheads of the tempest brewed on the horizon. They could be seen, roiling and black, on the opposite side of the cool night from the silver moon.

But she was far enough away that she could breathe, she could convince others she was Happy Ino.

She opened her eyes, a mere earthbound woman, and exhaled. Sunlight was hot on her skin after the refreshing night wind and bright in her eyes after the sublime light the moon cast. The tension in her shoulders eased, her stomach steadied, and the cage didn't exist anymore or had faded so it wasn't as present as much. Her headache receded under the surface. She could think rational thoughts. Ino turned to find Sai and stopped short because he had followed her to the roof's edge. He was shock-still, lids heavy over black, distant eyes, and his hair was more wind-swept than usual. But what stood out to her was the exhilarated grin spread from ear to ear, lighting his whole face, a beacon for others to admire. Ino stored away the moment because she'd never seen him so beautiful and happy.

He dallied at the lake or in the sky among the clouds. By accident, she had taken him along for the flight of fancy; the odd connection to him had happened, and she didn't recall the transition into the cave entrance. When had it happened? Dammit. She should have been more careful to keep her imagination contained- -she'd dragged him into her mind in Sunda Umi, as well. Daddy had warned her as she grew in strength she'd have to subdue her astral self; while she hadn't harmed Sai either time, he could be harmed.

She hated to bring him to reality, but bring him to reality she must. "Sai?" She traced his jaw with a knuckle. "Did I take you along for the ride by mistake? I'm very sorry."

Her touch woke him a little. The smile faded, diminished, became a flat line; his gaze focused on her face, but the look was raw and wondering. "I'm okay. It was…nothing." He'd meant to say something else, but amended it.

They stared at each other for a moment. The unspoken words, thoughts, images churned inside them, the bottom of the cave yawned around them and she was soothed by the dark cool space. Weird. Ino was tempted, and didn't resist, sleeking his bangs between her fingers, a ponderous, gentle physical touch. "We'll have to talk about...whatever this is."

He'd shut his eyes as she stroked his hair, and when she smoothed a few of his flyaways to neaten his appearance, he swallowed thickly. "Not today."

"No." She sighed and dropped her hand, the feel of silken hair burned to her fingertips. "Today everything is fine."

Eyes were open again, pinned to her and astute. "Everything's not fine, though."

"Everything is fine," she repeated with emphasis. "You and I will put on our Everything's Fine masks. As we wear the masks, what happened at the hospital will not enter our minds. Shikamaru can detect the slightest whiff of a conspiracy, so put it out of sight. Not a single thought," she warned when his lips parted. "I'll explain to your satisfaction after the debriefing. We can go talk to Uncle Ibiki if you want."

Sai marinated on it, slow to respond, so she mock-prayed to beg him. "Please, Sai. Don't bring it up in front of Shikamaru."

"Why keep it from him?"

"The whole affair is complicated and none of his business, but he'll ask uncomfortable questions and make it his business," she said. "I'm not in a position to answer him. When I am, I will tell him. Please, let me do it my way."

Lips compressed- -disapproval, but he acquiesced. "Okay."

She henged into her usual appearance, buried Miyazato, the rumbles of a migraine, the issue of her clan's stolen hidden techniques, Kiba's attack, and the weirdness with Sai into a secret chamber inside her mind. A smooth, glossy surface shined out to the world. She would be professional, give an accurate and rational account of their mission, and respond in her normal attitude to Shikamaru. He would suspect nothing, because there was nothing to suspect. Sai led the way into the stairwell, down a couple of floors to the general conference rooms, and along a hall to a closed door. Sai's hand was on the doorknob.

"He may ask why we were late from the hospital," she said, the thought coming to her from out of the blue. "We'll tell him you had to wait for me to get ready. He shouldn't ask any other questions."

"So nothing unusual." He paused and shifted to her, the emotionless smile already fixed into place. "Everything's fine."

Good, he understands. She smiled her own fake smile. "Yes, everything's fine."

Together, they entered the conference room. Shikamaru was slumped in his chair; Kiba was across from him, stretched back as far as the chair would allow him. Both were the picture of boredom, but when they registered her and Sai, they perked up in their seats. Shikamaru retained his bored expression, but Kiba huffed and looked annoyed.

"We've been waitin' for you hours," he said, exaggerating as he did. "Did you take a side trip to Suna?"

Sai ducked his head. "Our apologies for running late. Shall we get started?"

"Ino, you good for it?" Shikamaru asked. He assumed their tardiness had to do with her health. Let him think it.

All three of the men in the room pivoted their attention to her. The mask was flawless. "Hm-hm. Perfectly."

He did not press her for further information, and for that, she was grateful. Once Ino and Sai had sat at the table, Shikamaru thumbed open the dossier to Sai's mission report. He read through it, asked clarifying questions, and was well pleased with their efforts as a team- -he said as much, which surprised Ino, as Shikamaru typically did not praise teams. Excellence was expected. Kiba, the entire time, kept her in his periphery and fidgeted. His mistaken attack on her was not mentioned in the report. Ino kept her hands in her lap, but her skin itched and her throat was constricted behind the henge.

"Regarding Mr. Takeshita's arrest and detainment," Shikamaru said as he closed the file. "I had Intelligence run him through the paces. They could not corroborate Ino's claim of a memory suppression seal in his mind. He will be returned to Hinokoku tomorrow morning." He frowned. "And Sai, you incurred considerable paperwork on the Office for bringing in the Minister of Public Works without prior approval."

Ino glanced at Sai. She had not been aware that Sai had brought in Takeshita for questioning. Sai ignored her glance. "I feared he was in imminent danger. However, I apologize for the amount of paperwork my choice caused. Who performed the scans?"

"Lady Inohime," Shikamaru said without inflection. "Afterwards, Aoba."

Ino bit her tongue to prevent herself from crying out. Grandma had performed the Saiko Denshin on Takeshita Isao? Why, she could have removed the seal or strengthened the memory suppression to prevent Aoba from detecting it himself. Aoba was good- -Daddy had trained him- -but he wasn't Yamanaka. Her hands clenched in her lap. Is Grandma involved in this mess somehow? Her skin itched, a ripple of pricks and flea-bites under the dermis wherever the fuchsia dress clung. She wanted badly to scream.

The mask might have slipped a fraction, and Sai returned her glance with one of his own. Get it together, he seemed to say. "I see."

As Ino grappled for control over the sudden swing in mood she experienced, Kiba shifted in his seat. He'd detected the fluctuation via her chemicals and pheromones and whatever else he could smell. Before long, he'd ask her about it and Shikamaru would pay closer attention to her. Forcefully, she relaxed her hands and favored him with a sweet smile, which calmed him, and to calm herself, she practiced meditative breathing. The itch drove her wild.

"That does it for the mission report. By the way, Lord Kakashi was interested in your team's performance. Based on the success of the mission, you three may be assigned other investigations. One final question before you leave." Shikamaru interlaced his fingers in his lap. "Why were you two so late?"

"A lady has to look her best," Ino said with her habitual smirk. "I took some extra time in the locker room. You can imagine my surprise when Sai walked in on me."

Kiba swiveled in his chair, agog. "Bruh. How are you even alive right now?"

"I'm good at evasive maneuvers." Sai's lie was quite convincing. "Plus she slipped on some soap and was unable to pursue me."

"Tch. I told you not to mention it," Ino said. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and caught Kiba's lecherous grin. "And stop imagining me naked, pervert!"

Shikamaru glanced between them, and said, "I don't need any more. Thank you for coming in. Sai, I'd like to speak to you privately, please. Kiba, Ino, you're dismissed."

"'Bout time," Kiba said and hustled out of his chair and into the hallway. When she exited the conference room, he had waited for her. She knew an ambush when she saw it and she hadn't had a chance to catch her breath after her near miss with Shikamaru. "Ino-girl, can we talk outside?"

"Sure." Whatever attitude he'd had in the debrief had peeled away. He, too, had worn a mask to trick Shikamaru. Kiba's shoulders hunched forward, and his general aura was morose and melancholy. Droopy. A terrible presentiment whispered to her: he wished to rectify the mistake he'd made in Sunda Umi. He was too noble for his own good, and he would sacrifice himself to satisfy his sense of justice. What did it mean?

Sometimes you must let go of the ones you love.

Never. She'd never let go. She itched; she ignored the parasite in her chest, the quiet throb in her head, the close pressure of the air.

They walked to the stairwell, progressed to the ground floor, and exited the Office of the Hokage. They had seen no one else they knew, and Ino was thankful for it. The external door let them out round the back of the building, so they were by themselves without an audience of pedestrians. A wide sidewalk connected various other buildings on the campus across a broad, meticulous lawn, so they meandered to the side where a small patch of shrubs struggled to grow in the shade. Stone benches dotted the area.

He came to a slow standstill, but he was restless, and couldn't decide to keep his hands in his pockets or at his side. Her pulse was in her throat as she stayed silent; Kiba fought with himself, until he laughed humorlessly. "I have to say something, but I don't know if I have the courage to say it."

Ino squared up to him because she'd have to be the brave one, and patted his broad chest. "Don't be afraid." The words were like glass in her mouth. "I can tell whatever it is has bothered you for awhile."

"Yeah." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "The truth is, Ino-girl, you've been right about us since the beginning. You always said we were terrible for one another, we should keep it casual and not romantic, but I'm a bonehead who fell in love with you." Now that he'd gotten a start, he wouldn't stop until the bitter, bitter end. "I hoped I could love us enough for both of us, if that makes sense. And I think...I think it made me a little crazy, how much I loved you, how much I wanted you."

Kiba paused to monitor her reaction. Ino maintained her calm as she'd long since understood his goal. Her silent smile was in place, and encouraged, earnest, Kiba braced his hands on her shoulders. She was thankful he did; she felt like her feet hovered over the ground. The sick parasite in her heart contracted, sucked the organ dry and flaccid. I was slow and stupid, and I've missed my opportunity.

Oblivious, Kiba continued, "You had warned me to give you space, but I couldn't give you what you needed. I came around after we agreed to a break and offered you a marriage of convenience which I thought you'd go for, but you didn't. I was wrong about you again. Then Sunda Umi happened. My grief and love for you when I thought you were-" He broke off, unable to say the word 'dead'. "I couldn't control myself, I couldn't stop it...and I should've been able to. I turned into a monster, and I'll never forget it." His voice cracked, but he trekked onwards, leaving her behind. "I've had some time to think, to really think. And...I realize I've tried too hard to cling to you. I've tried too hard to love us for you'n'me both. It's not what you need, Ino-girl. I should've loosened my grip on you a long time ago." With a conscious effort, he let go of her shoulders and stepped away, and it was like he'd put continents between them and her vision swam and she drowned. "So I'm letting you free. I hope you can understand I...you have a place in my heart, you will always be in my heart, but I think it's time for us to...to just be friends."

I should have married you when I had the chance. Lips numbed, she said, "I understand everything you've said and I think you've...done us both a mercy."

He hesitated, but when she didn't continue, he shrugged. "Heh. I thought you'd argue a bit more."

She needed to sit or she'd collapse, and her grip on the henge was tenuous at best. "An argument would cause us additional pain, and it wouldn't change your mind anyway. So. We had a great time while it lasted, didn't we?"

"We sure did. Hey, I'll see you when I see you, yeah?" Kiba tossed his hand in a careless wave and spun on his heel to walk away. He called out over his shoulder, "Don't get that ponytail caught in any gears."

"Don't get your foot caught in any traps," she said and didn't need to raise her voice to know he'd heard her.

Breathless, she watched him amble the walkway and when he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight, she stumbled to a stone bench, gutted. The henge burst apart, and the agony in her heart superseded any other ache or pang or anxiety; the parasite sucked her dry though she clutched her hand to her chest to stem the flow. He was one more to the list, wasn't he? Sakura, Sasuke, Master Asuma, Daddy, and now Kiba. The ones who left her behind.

Would she forever be left behind?

A/N: More juicy drama to come. Leave some love in the comments, and see you next week!