The idea for this story popped into my head after reading some of the Naruto manga. I thought what if Sasuke had a chance to kill Itachi, even if it meant killing someone else, would he take it? And playing with the idea that he would, I came up with my story. Please don't flame with comments about Shikamaru should be with Temari. I don't hate that couple. I just have no opinion on it, because Temari hasn't really appeared much where I am in the manga. I do like her. She is one of the strongest female ninja.

Just for reference, this story is in Ino's point of view.

Betrayal

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the characters.

"What are you doing! Sasuke! Ino's still in there!"

I felt a fluid creep up my throat. It was warm and sticky. It swept over my tongue and engulfed my taste buds with its vile flavor. An absolutely sickening flavor. But swallowing it was useless-I would only gag on it- as was spitting it out, for my mouth was pinned shut in my current state of shock. I wasn't able to move once so ever. Soon it filled my mouth and seeped out the small separation between my upper and lower lips in a slow progression. It leaked down my bottom lip and over my chin to where it collected at my chin's edge. The drops fell when heavy enough as crimson tear drops.

An incredible pain filled my stomach and the waves of agony shot through my body, hitting my brain with signals of complete torture. Pain? Agony? Torture? No, those aren't good enough descriptions. This was a state of pain far beyond the denotation of any of those adjectives. I can't begin to describe it. It was a ripping feeling; a stabbing feeling; a feeling that was of such misery that death would have been more desirable. All I felt was pain; my brain was comprehending nothing else. Everything else confused me. Why was the world spinning? Why was the image before me so blurring? And why was my body shaking with such a tremendous tremor? No, something else was hurting too. That's what must have happened. Yes, that made sense. My heart was ripped in half.

I saw him, a quivering image that shook-left, right, up, down-all in a matter of a split second. The face was unclear and the rest of the figure was blurry and unidentifiable. Even so, I could see the glare of hate that was directed toward me. Eyes of the Sharingan they were. They seemed to be a-glow with that animosity. It was terrifying. But I knew my body wasn't shaking because of those eyes nor that satisfied grin of gritted teeth. I knew he wasn't looking at me. He didn't see me. He saw someone else. He saw the man that destroyed his family and left him behind to suffer. And my body was shaking because of the huge gash deep in and wide across my stomach.

Everything was wrong. This wasn't right. I couldn't think. What happened? What should I do? I knew my eyes were wide, but why? What had happened? Why am I so scared? Why is my mind racing with thoughts and commands, yet my body isn't listening? I knew I was trembling. I knew it. And I knew it wasn't anything to do with the cold or fright, but shock. Not shock of the mind, nor to the heart. It was shock to the body. Blood was flowing where it shouldn't and cold was getting inside me where it shouldn't feel such temperatures. Death was knocking on my door and that shock was sending my body-No! this body- through a loophole.

"Sasuke! You bastard!" yelled an angry voice that I knew I recognized, but couldn't quite remember who it was. Was that the side effects of death? Did you lose recognition of things? "Dammit!" I heard the voice say as two loud cracking, bone breaking sounds echoed in the air. In the corner of my eye I saw two dark hands rise and disappear when two forms hit the ground. Then the voice filled the air again, with desperation and anger, and was that sorrow? I knew that was unusual of the owner, even though I couldn't remember who that person was. "Ino! Hurry! Switch back!" I didn't move. I couldn't move. What did he mean? I didn't understand. Then the voice yelled with even more feeling, "Come on! What are you doing? Hurry!"

I heard a rhythmic plodding in the distance. It became louder and louder with each passing second. Something was coming near.

Suddenly some sense seemed to return to me. Not to my brain, no; instead, my body seemed to be thinking on its own. Almost as if my actions were a reflex. My fingers intertwined with each other and I felt my mind separate from this body. For a moment the pain dissipated , but all too soon my soul rejoined with a vessel and the agony enveloped me again. I couldn't move after that. I didn't have the strength too and even if I wanted to delve into the last of my fortitude, I didn't dare. It was too unbearable of a pain to attempt such a feat. The only motion my body preformed was the contracting of my chest muscles and downward pull of my diaphragm to allow my lungs to stretch and expand; so I could breathe. That was a burden too and the only reason I even allowed myself to do such an act was because it was mandatory.

I heard a crush beside me and fluttered my eyes open just enough to see a form crouch down beside me before I shut them again. Arms wrapped around my body and lifted me up carefully. Careful, but still it was incredibly painful. I knew eyes were examining me. I didn't have to look to know that. I heard a voice curse several times. A pause came between each word as his eyes examined another part of the wound and realized the danger and degree it was. I knew of the depth of the wound, too. I felt the blood seeping out of the opening in my stomach and that same liquid filling my mouth to gag me. I felt the pain from it. And I felt the loom of death.

The man say in a as reassuring voice as he could manage, though I heard the doubt in it, "Hold on, Ino! The Hokage will heal you, don't worry." He was worried. He really was. Something so uncharacteristic of his lazy, indifferent, normal attitude. I knew those were his traits but why couldn't my mind remember a name or face? I wanted to tell him not to worry. To say it doesn't suit him, but my lips couldn't manage to move at all and my voice seemed to be caught too far in my throat to be heard at all.

I felt a rough hand grab below my knees and another wrapped around my waist. I felt the ground disappear beneath me as I was lifted into the air. I coughed at the fluid in my mouth and some spilt out past my lips and out onto my face and elsewhere to places I could not be certain. I felt numb. It was so cold. The shaking hadn't resided; it had only increased. I wanted to grab onto the figure that held me to steady myself, but that was much too great an effort.

In a matter of a split second from getting to his feet, the man raced off. He didn't say anything more. I felt the wind rustling past me. It chilled me more. I tried to open my eyes once but all I saw was the blur of dark figures against a dark sky. Or at least that's what I thought I saw. My head was aching and this speed wasn't helping, but I couldn't complain. I knew I usually would, but now I couldn't. I heard crushing and stomping as his feet thundered against ground, grass, and trees. My body lunged up and down. I felt sick every moment. First a forward thrust and then a stomach churning fall; a horrible ride.

Each moment I felt dizzier and dizzier; fainter and fainter. The world was spinning and my eyes weren't even open to see it. The sounds of the night and movement seemed to slowly fade and I could no longer smell the crisp fresh night air. Slowly thoughts began to disappear and it wasn't long before I completely lost all sense.

When I awoke I was laying in a soft bed. The fluffy comfortable felt wonderful against my aching body. My body was cold and weak. I felt I had less strength than before and the pain had only shallowly subsided. I didn't want to open my eyes; at least my eyes didn't want to open. It was a fight against muscle and mind. After several moments I managed to crack them open a small amount. The bright light made me quickly close them. I then forced them open slightly faster this time, where I struggled to keep them open to adjust to the light.

It was early afternoon. The sun shone through a nearby window. I scanned the area. I didn't even take in much before my eyes fell on the figure of a man sitting slouched over in a chair nearby. His head was sloped downwards and his eyes were close. He was sleeping. There was blood staining his green vest that proved his rank. Upon looking at the red liquid I remembered my wound and tried to get up to look at it, but a burst of pain shot through me and I stopped, falling back down to my former position. I didn't need anymore recognition than that. The pain proved enough to me that the wound was real and still in bad condition. At least I was a little more cleaned up with no blood drowning my body and mouth.

But this only confirmed the truth to me. The whole attack flashed before my eyes. And I couldn't help but cry. He had attacked me. He had tried to kill me. He knew it was me, but he didn't care. He only saw the brother he loathed with all his might and didn't care to think that killing my host body would mean he would kill me as well. I had cared about him. Cared about my almost- murderer. I had loved him. Loved him with all my heart. And he had betrayed me. Not just me but all our village. He had betrayed my heart and crumbled it with greed. And so I couldn't help it. The tears flowed freely from my eyes. I couldn't control them. And I didn't try. It was just another thing my body and this time my heart were too weak to do; an action I could not perform. Though I tried not to be heard. I didn't want anyone to see me like this. Hadn't I said countless times how I adored him; how my heart would be his. And now I would rather die than give him my heart. He had shattered it and I wasn't going to pick up the pieces to hand them to him. The tears fell faster and faster. I tried to muffle my moans in the pillow and tried to hold them in, but I only choked and filled my stomach with pain.

"You know," a voice from behind me said. I didn't turn to look, but my cries stopped momentarily. "Crying is just going to reopen your wound."

I turned to him. Shikamaru. I sniffled and felt my eyes continue to leak as the damp water in the corners fell like raindrops, sliding down my cheeks. He looked at me hard. He almost seemed unconcerned as if my tears didn't bother him, but then I saw his eyes scan over my face and then fell to my wound, where they lingered. And I saw a sadness in his expression; a guilt. I wanted to say that it wasn't his fault, but that it was mine; mine for loving someone like that.

And I continued to look at him. The tears had stopped falling from my eyes. I inhaled sharply, trying to catch my breath after all the crying. My breath was short and sharp and pitiful. Why was I feeling this sudden emotion? Something I don't think I had really felt before, but only thought I had. He seemed so different to me. He seemed more caring. He had saved me. I would have died. He had showed me compassion where Sasuke hadn't. He was here now and by the looks of it had been all night long. He had stayed beside me. Maybe he was the one that really cared?

"Oh, Shikamaru," I cried in sad tone and I jumped up from my bed and warped my arms around his shoulders. I ignored the horrible pain. It didn't seem to matter. It was totally insignificant, because at that moment I felt a warmth that seemed to be stronger than that pain. It seemed to destroy it. I felt his body stiffen in shock at my sudden touch. I cried in his arms. I cried and cried. It was sadness from the pain of heartbreak, but also of happiness of a recognition of something more important. The tears seemed to last forever. They wouldn't stop. But he didn't pull away. Instead he wrapped his arms around me lazily and allowed me let out the pain. Maybe I could pick up the pieces of my heart and one day give the complete treasure to Shikamaru.

The End

I hoped you enjoyed my story. I'm sorry if you though the vocabulary was too complex for Ino, but it's just how I write. Please review! I love you all that read my story!