In the darkness, something sluggish stirred. He could almost lift a finger, and his ears were ringing with a familiar voice. Something shrill and irritating, but definitely familiar. A panel in front of him flashed, the warm, steady glow of a candle. For a moment, something like recollection touched him, like a hand pressed to his temple.

Ino sat with her head against her knees, staring at the floor beneath her. She'd forgotten how long she'd been sitting there – in this strange half-reality, time seemed irrelevant.

And she was trapped.

She had been foolish, she realized, to ever think that she was capable enough for this mission. To think that after only a few months of training, she was prepared to take on the mind of a genius.

But then again, she had been so sure. So sure, that even with her disadvantage, there was one thing she could be absolutely certain of, and that was her ability to understand her teammate.

She had known Shikamaru since they were children; born only one day apart, it had been a running joke between the Nara and Yamanaka clans for years that Shikamaru couldn't have gotten rid of Ino if he'd tried. He had been easy enough to understand as a child; sleepy, disgruntled, yes, but ultimately compliant, he'd often been a reluctant participant in Ino's childhood games.

Even during their first year at the Academy, they'd been relatively close. Sure, Shikamaru had found a new friend in Choji, and Ino had become increasingly obsessed with things Shikamaru deemed girly, but Ino still knew where to go to seek out a playmate when she needed one.

Then, Sasuke had happened.

That was the worst part. She knew, deep in her gut, that this wasn't just Shikamaru's stubborn mind keeping her out. If anything, she had facilitated the divide between them. It had been her fault that they'd grown apart – in her sudden obsession with a different dark-haired genius, she'd let her childhood friendship slip into the shadows.

Sasuke was motivated, intriguing, cool – everything that Shikamaru had never been. For his part, Shikamaru had never really done anything to save their friendship either. When Ino had been redirected, he hardly seemed to have noticed, more content to stay with their quieter, calmer teammate.

Sure, Ino had seen him in the intervening years. Family dinners and Academy functions were enough to at least keep them within one another's sights. But when she'd been assigned to his team, it hadn't been a happy reunion with an old friend: it was just another hindrance in her quest to win Sasuke over.

But she'd been forced to work with her team, forced to know them even when she was reluctant. She had learned that Chouji's eating wasn't just compulsive, it was also an effort to store chakra. She had learned that behind Shikamaru's laziness lay some sort of loyalty, some sort of protective instinct.

At least, she thought she had been learning.

Drowning in the myriad of missteps, one memory sprang unbidden to the forefront of Ino's mind. It was the first time they'd really seen Shikamaru's potential, sitting in the stands during their first Chuunin exams, watching him fight Temari. She had been so sure she had seen motivation in him then, so sure he was going to win, because he just had to, had to prove that he wasn't just the lazy boy she'd always known him to be.

But then, of course, he'd forfeited. Choji was quick to point out that Ino, who had been boasting during the entire match about how well she knew her teammate, had been entirely wrong. Admittedly, in the chaos that had shortly followed, there hadn't been much time to think it over, but she had thought about it later, after he had broken the news to them that he had been the only one promoted during the entire ordeal.

She had been wrong, very wrong. And it made her nervous. Shikamaru was the one who had always caught her up to that point, cared for her when she was unconscious. If she didn't know him then… who was to say she ever knew him?

She'd tried to keep the concern inside, but as usual, it bubbled over and spilled out in the midst of one of their mission, when she'd yelled at Shikamaru for being too lazy to perform some simple task in setting up camp, and it had simply devolved from there. Suddenly, she had descended into yelling at him for never following through, while he sat in front of her, with the vaguely bemused look on his face as the only sign he was even listening.

When she finished, he had taken a moment to respond.

"Ino…" If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was a hint of concern in his voice. "It's not like I wanted to lose. If I'd thought it was possible to win, I would have. But when you're out of resources, sometimes you have to give up."

That was all he ever said on the matter. Within a few moments, it was like the outburst had never even happened, and Ino had lapsed back into uncomfortable silence. She'd wanted to say something more, but she'd found herself without anything else to say.

Lifting her head from her knees, Ino tried to clear her head and consider her current situation. Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought, but she did know one thing.

Unlike her teammate, she was not one to just give up.

Mrs. Yamanaka was a thin woman, with a severe mouth that folded down just slightly at the corners. Where Ino was loud and brash, the elder Yamanaka played her cards close to her chest, not even expressing the barest hint of surprise when the Hokage herself showed up on her doorstep. As Tsunade met her gaze, she marveled at how two such stoic people as Inoichi and his wife could possibly have produced a daughter who was so bold and outspoken.

"May I help you, Tsunade-sama?" Mrs. Yamanaka gestured her inside, directing her to a seat in the parlor. A tray of freshly made tea was already sitting out, as if she had been expecting Tsunade's visit.

"I've come to ask you about your husband." Tsunade thought it best to cut straight to the chase. Mrs. Yamanaka was not a woman easily fooled, and she knew when she someone was dancing around a subject.

A raised eyebrow and a slight tightening of the mouth were the only signs of discomfort from the stoic woman. She cleared her throat.

"I will help as much as I am able, Tsunade-sama, but I'm afraid if it is mission information you are seeking, much of my husband's work was quite confidential."

Tsunade clucked dismissively.

"Be that as it may, I doubt you allowed your husband to keep secrets about his health from you."

That remark elicited a small smile from Mrs. Yamanaka. She took a quick sip of tea before she responded, her hands shaking slightly as she set the cup and saucer back on the table.

"True." Her mouth folded back into a thin line. "This has to do with my daughter, does it not?"

Tsunade frowned.

"We would have informed you sooner…"

"…but as a civilian, I am to be kept in the dark as much as possible." Mrs. Yamanaka shrugged lightly. "That is the way of things, after all. Even when my daughter is endangering her life."

Tsunade felt her temper rise, and she almost began to explain how important it was that this particular mission be kept as quiet as possible, but then she watched the woman in front of her for a moment. Mrs. Yamanaka's movements were stiff, and she did not let much slip past her calm façade, but there was pain in her gestures. Her husband had been gone no more than a year.

Tsunade swallowed.

"When your husband returned from interrogation missions, did he ever report physical injuries associated with the interrogations?"

Mrs. Yamanaka tilted her head slightly.

"That's a rather strange question."

"I'm aware," Tsunade grumbled.

"Well, he did…" Mrs. Yamanaka's gaze was distant, as if she were calculating. "But no, I'm not sure that's exactly right."

"What is it?"

"Well," she continued, "he didn't ever complain of it after we were married, but when he once told me that when he was younger, he occasionally got some rather severe headaches. There was one incident in particular…"

She paused, her brow furrowing.

"Yes?" Tsunade urged, trying not to sound as desperate as she was.

"He used to say that it only happened when he was dealing with a particular powerful mind. People who…" She made an indistinct gesture with her hands. "…pushed back. Tried to push him out of their minds, that is. Apparently, the worst experience he ever had trying to use his jutsu…"

Mrs. Yamanaka stopped and fixed Tsunade with a flat stare.

"…involved Shikaku Nara."

Tsunade crossed her arms, attempting not to look annoyed.

Mrs. Yamanaka sipped at her tea.

"Now, do you care to tell me what's happening to my daughter?"

Ino did a full circuit around the mirror – or, at the very least, what she assumed was a full circuit. The mirror seemed to move with her, always facing her. The reflections flickered, changing every few minutes. She had all but given up on trying to interpret the various iterations of herself, choosing instead to focus on what the mirror was, and how she could get past it.

She put a finger to the glass again. It didn't yield. She continued trying to shatter the glass, but that seemed like a thoroughly terrible idea. Considering the state of her right hand, she was not about to put it through more pain, and injuring the hand that was still intact was just stupid.

"I just have to get the right frame of mind." She reassured herself. "With Shikamaru, it will be something simple, but so simple it seems difficult."

As she mulled it over, she stared at the mirror, letting the images passing her by without really looking at them.

Until she saw something strange.

She watched for a few minutes, not really focusing on her own reflection, but on the one unwavering object in the image: the dark shadow, stretching across the floor.

Doesn't it ever bother you, working with something that changes so easily? Ino had asked him, watching her own shadow as it preceded her in the road.

Shikamaru had shrugged.

Shadows aren't that changeable. It's the people who change. The shadows just reflect what's going on within them.

Ino had made a face.

If that was your attempt at being profound, it was really lame.

But she'd thought about it later, wondered if it was true. Sometimes she felt like little more than a shadow, small and insignificant, barely more than a blurry outline of herself…

She crouched down and moved closer to the mirror, blinking as the reflection changed again. Still, the shadow hadn't changed.

Along the white floor, it stretched far back into a corner, receding until it was little more than a thin sliver.

But it was pointing somewhere.

Ino whirled around, looking for place it pointed, but the landscape was as blank as ever. In the light of her reality, there were no shadows.

She frowned slightly, turning back to the mirror. The shadow was still there, stretching obstinately into the distant.

Within a few moments, Ino knew what she needed to do.

Keeping her gaze locked firmly on the shadow in the mirror, she took a tentative step backward toward where the shadow should have been.

In the mirror, the shadow shrunk just the slightest bit.

Walking at an angle, Ino continued to travel backwards, watching as the shadow slowly shrunk.

The further away she got, the more the mirror seemed to focus. When she was no more than ten paces away, the reflections in the mirror had stopped changing, and a blurry figure stood on the shadow, her blonde hair framing her face messily, her temple sporting a red and brown blotch.

She allowed just the slightest hint of a smile to cross her face.

As she progressed, she got bolder, moving faster and faster, following the shadow. In the mirror, it was becoming little more than a sliver; a few more steps and it would be nothing at all.

She took one step, then another, and the shadow was gone, but there was something solid behind her.

Ino ran her hands along the surface of the wall, trying to suppress her excitement, lest this be nothing more than another trap.

But her hand closed around a knob, and she heard a creak.

She could have screamed with joy.

However, in her haste to back through the door, she failed to notice the lip at the bottom of the doorframe. Her heel caught, and she tumbled backward. Acting on pure instinct, she stuck her hands out behind her.

There was a sickening crack, and then darkness.

Shizune had almost finished her notes when she heard the crack. She had been circling the hospital room for the better part of an hour, making observations to report to Lady Tsunade when she returned. Despite the fact that she had covered every inch of the room, it took her a moment to recognize the source of the sound.

She had noted the swelling in the wrist, but at the time, it hadn't seemed like anything particularly severe. However, the purpling bruises that were now appearing, coupled with the lump that looked distinctly like a bone doing its best to break through the skin, were definitely cause for concern.

Abandoning her notes, Shizune rushed out the door, hoping Tsunade had not gone too far.

The feeling of a reassuring hand receded just as quickly as it had appeared. In the semi-darkness, he put his head down, and watched the candlelight flicker.

A/N: Well hello there! I hadn't forgotten about this, I swear. Just had to get my thoughts in order. I'm glad that I'm back to it now. It really is fun to write.

Today's chapter is brought to you by a couple episodes from the original Naruto. They, along with a few other things, inspired me to get myself back in gear and get the next chapter out.

Also! I'm working on cover art for this story! I posted the lineart to my dA account today, and also to my fanwork tumblr, both of which can be found on my profile. If you're interested, please feel free to go check it out.

Thank you to my diligent reviewers: scarlet letters in the snow, untouchable hexing witch, FFNRocks, Airi Shirokuro, Otowa Nekozawa, The Clawed Butterfly, Sayaka M, SultanaV, Guest, Ann, and Medelie. You all rock, and I really apologize for not getting this out sooner. And to all the fav/alert adders that I haven't heard from, thank you all as well! It always brightens my day to see a notification.

Well, I guess that's it! Until next time, please tell me what you think! I always like hearing from you all.