Two Ways

Disclaimer: I don't own anything here. At all.

Warnings: Het and yuri insinuations. Character death.

This was written in the minutes between working out and playing volleyball- consequently, it may not make loads of sense.

800 word drabble/one-shot on Ino, death, and love.


Ino thinks that there are two very simple ways to kill a person.

Two ways that don't involve fists or jutsus or a kunai stabbing up through her stomach, over and over, blood slipping out in a crimson waterfall.

The first way, of course, is to let them love no one. The second, less well-known method, is to let them love everyone.

The first is a slow, quiet death, something you only realize is happening in the awkward silence of a lunch date, when it finally clicks that the other person has nothing to say and wants nothing to do with you. The first is a slow, quiet poison spreading through your heart and mind, something you only discover when you realize that you don't have anything to say or do either.

Then you get up and leave the love of your life, and his silent black eyes watch you all the way out the door.

The second way is so fierce and passionate that the blissful lust filling you leaves no room for anything- not for breath or blood or life, just a mad craving burning you up like fire. The second way is so fierce and passionate, you can't forget it or let go it for a split second, because it is all of you, merciless and consuming.

Then you just want to fall away, to fade, because everyone seems so much more beautiful and perfect than you when you see them through love-struck eyes.

Ino thinks that she may be the first person to die from both and neither all at once, which makes her smile.

The kunai is yanked out of her body once more, splashes of red dancing out with the blade and spraying the rusty yellow grass around her. She waits it for to return, the sharp plunge and twist, but flesh is there instead, two warm hands pressing desperately against the blood.

Sakura.

Her smile trembles and she opens her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of that silky-as-petals hair, those green-as-envy eyes. The only thing she can see, though, is an endless blue sky, wisps of white and grey tangled here and there.

Ino thinks that Shikamaru should lie down beside her, just like they used to, and enjoy such a beautiful, cloudy sight. He probably would, if he wasn't so busy yelling orders and calling for medics and dropping to his knees beside here, whispering through clenched teeth and bright eyes to hold on, please hold on Ino, damnit, don't you give up on me.

Ino thinks that this makes sense; the only time he couldn't appreciate the sky was when troublesome women like her demanded his attention.

Ha- a whore for attention, even to the end, Ino half-teases, half-scolds herself, the same way Big Forehead-Girl should have. But the pink-haired kunoichi doesn't have the time or breath for that, not between the sobs and desperate, half-screamed pleading. Pleading, begging, asking. Now is just the same as then; she still comes back to me, lost, frightened, and in tears.

Ino thinks that people never really change.

The sky shatters, suddenly, little black cracks deepening into emptiness, not a cloud or sun or pink head in sight. She knows she is dying when the world disappears like this; now it's a simple matter of deciding what really finished her off- kunai or love or the lack thereof.

It proved a tricky debate, even in life. She always thought that she loved them, right up until she had backed them/had been backed by them into a wall, onto a bed, behind the table. Always seemed like it (the real thing, this time for sure) until she met their gentle/numb/thin/rugged/moist/smooth/burning/soft as heaven lips that tasted so much like peach/greed/sighs/smoke/chips/supremacy/ramen/doubt it almost made her gag.

Because no matter how much look you a person in the eye, Ino thinks that you can't know shit until their lips have pressed onto yours.

She pauses in her mental consideration of death, life, and love long enough to realize the warmth on her stomach has pulled away. In the cold blackness, Ino hears a familiar voice, softer than it should be.

"Sakura, let go…stop. She's dead, Sakura, let go of her."

Ino thinks that that settles the argument. Because even if she doesn't/does love him, Sasuke-kun is still always right. So she relaxes and lets numbness seep into her, slowly, stretching from lungs to heart to throat to mind. She leaves the death issue unresolved, which is a shame, but a shinigami has no patience for philosophical ponderings.

Ino consoles herself with a last thought- either and any way, she will go to the same place as all ninjas. Ino thinks that hell can't be such a bad place, though, with all her lovers/rivals/friends/teammates there as well.


Pairings: Ino x Everyone? xP In some order- Sasuke, Naruto, Shikamaru, Chouji, Asuma, Neji, Hinata, and Sakura. Whew.

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