A/N: Seems like people have been waiting impatiently for this moment. Enter Ino.
Chapter Four
"Remember Chouji and Ino?"
Remember was a difficult word to apply to the situation. Yes, Temari remembered: they had met before. As genin. As enemies. As allies, in small and large fights, all equally important. The trick was to match the adults in front of her with the children she had known. Temari could imagine it was equally hard for the others.
"Hi." She smiled at the smaller woman and the stocky shinobi who answered her greeting guardedly. Her mind drew up the images automatically: these were the blonde, annoying girl in a violet tunic that had fought Sakura during the trials and the chubby boy who had put up an interesting performance but had, ultimately, been defeated by a Sound nin. The girl had grown into a woman – she didn't reach Temari's height but wasn't as small and delicate as Hinata was, either – and seemed to have tuned down on her volume quite a lot. Ino's hair was shoulder-length now and her purple tops and skirts had been exchanged for the similar practical wear Temari liked, as well: a long top and leggings. Her outfit was completed by a flak vest. Chouji, on the other hand, had grown. With the added height, his body proportions seemed to have balanced out. He no longer seemed fat but broad-shouldered and strong. His hair was longer and wasn't pulled up into the two tufts Temari remembered them being in. Both of them eyed her watchfully but didn't seem to object to her presence.
"So how do you like Hidden Leaf, now that you have been able to have a good look at it?" Chouji asked over dinner. The silent chatter of other patrons eating their meals at the other tables provided for a calming background noise. Since Shikamaru didn't talk much (Temari almost caught herself glaring at him while his favorite word ran through her head) it was them who upheld the conversation. Talking to Chouji was alright. He was polite and witty, his humor a lot like Kankurou's but not quite. He managed to eat amazing amounts with amazing speed while keeping up a conversation.
"It's pretty," Temari answered truthfully. "But in a strange way, at least to me. You'd know what I mean if you visited us in Suna. It's houses and people and places like this and yet it's different. Not regarding the people but regarding the overall feeling, I guess."
"How do you deal with the extreme weather conditions? You must be short on water for long stretches of the year."
"They're not extreme if you know how to handle them. And Suna has its water sources."
"Which you can't reveal." Ino's lips curled up.
"I could tell you but then…"
"You'd have to kill us?" The other woman finished her sentence. They exchanged a smile.
"I guess," Chouji said, thoughtfully. "I'd like to see the desert again."
"You're welcome to visit," Temari replied drily and was answered by a chuckle.
"Perhaps one day."
Ino shrugged and smiled. "By the way, what do you do at home, when you're off duty?"
One had to give the blond Leaf nin credit. Ino knew a conversation only worked when both parties made inquiries, even if she barely disclosed any personal information. As it was, there was enough to talk about. It maneuvered them across a few potentially awkward situations, including one when the Hyuuga heiress and bug and dog boy walked into the restaurant and spotted them. Dog boy made a point of asking her loudly whether she and Shikamaru were actually going out while Hinata smiled in greeting and bug boy nodded wordlessly. They found a table out of sight of Temari and disappeared again. All in all, it could have been worse, and the food was good. Chouji left early after dinner, needing to run a few errands for his family. Temari excused herself for a detour to the bathrooms. When she returned, Shikamaru and Ino were conversing in quiet tones.
She did not know why she stopped to watch the two of them. Maybe it was that Shikamaru had barely said a word and now was quietly discussing something, or maybe it was something in Ino's voice.
"…Not the case," she heard him say as she approached. "Naruto already talked to them. They are convinced they did nothing wrong."
Ino laughed. A small, quiet chuckle, different from the polite smile she had shown all evening. "Interpreting standing mission orders that way is a bit far off, but they are essentially right. And they really couldn't get it off for three days?"
"No, I think they still look a bit green, and not only behind the ears…"
Temari stepped up to the table, compelled by her own guilty conscience. Shikamaru glanced up at her and his eyes went soft. "You must be tired."
Some part of her calmed.
They bid Ino good bye in front of the restaurant and walked back to her quarters. The sky was clear and reminded her of Sand but the stars were lined up differently.
"So those are your team mates."
Shikamaru nodded.
"Ino," Temari said, compelled by silence, darkness and a gnawing feeling she couldn't place. "Did the two of you ever hook up?"
He stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, staring at her incredulously. "Ino and me? No! What gave you that idea? We've known each other for ages. We're friends."
At least he hadn't said just.
In a burst of something hot and irrational that she quickly identified as jealousy Temari decided she did not want Shikamaru to be more than just friends with Ino.
…
Desert usually meant aridity.
Which, in short, meant: no water. That, again, meant no clouds. The night sky was crystal clear and the moon shone into Temari's room as bright as a candle, only steadier. That night it was merely a thin sickle that nevertheless managed to illuminate the familiar furniture: the desk, the chair, the cupboard, a picture frame, a few scattered items of her yet-to-be-tidied-up travel gear. Moving out of her father's house years ago Temari had taken most of her belongings with her: not because she never wanted to return but because she felt they were a part of her. A few books and scrolls that had belonged to her mother. The colorful pillows and the many weapons that now were distributed throughout the room. Fans, katana, kunai. Not a typical girl's room but Temari's room alright.
Shikamaru had said her room was very much like her: edges and contradictions and life. She had liked the description.
When her mind had nothing to focus on, the memories returned all the stronger.
The first time he had visited Hidden Leaf on a diplomatic mission was the fourth time they had met as a couple – as lovers, whatever. Temari had taken him on a tour through Sand, had shown him her favorite places. In the evening they had sat in her small kitchen, a glass of wine in front of them, and Shikamaru had watched her cook.
"So what did you like best?" Temari inquired and threw him a quick glance over the vegetables she was cutting. He was looking at her, a steady gaze that she answered equally steady. He was like that: his gaze wouldn't change, would forever be the inquiring, strangely intense glance. But there were layers to it she was only barely learning to read. A softness that made her uneasy because she wasn't used to softness, a question that made her bristle inwardly because she didn't like if someone doubted her word. Patience, something she wasn't exactly familiar with, and a certain hardness that spoke of strength and pain and everything they had experienced during their lives up to now. Now, she could see he was considering the question in the same way he considered everything before giving an answer. An answer that, as she knew, would be his own, honest opinion, shaped by everything he knew and thought-over carefully.
"You." Matter-of-fact.
She almost cut herself. "What?"
"Of everything I've seen, I like you best."
Putting down the knife, she crossed the small expanse and stood before him. He now had to look up to face her. There was only a small distance between them but Temari made no move to cross it.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, still thoughtful and considering, "I like the way you are when you are in a place you know well. It is different from the way you are in Leaf."
"Good different or bad different?" She inquired, laying her hands onto the table behind him, encasing him in a loose cage.
"Black and white? I thought we agreed on the fact that nothing's ever simply good or bad."
"Humor me."
"Good different," he said, a small smile stealing itself onto his face. "Your edges are softer against the backdrop of Hidden Sand. You are brighter. You even move differently – more freely, less self-consciously. I like it. I like your colors against the desert."
Suppressing her own smile, she leaned down towards him. "You realize not every woman would take that as a compliment."
Shikamaru frowned. "Not? I thought I'd made myself sufficiently clear-"
She slipped onto his lap, bringing their bodies together until she could feel his heartbeat.
"I'm not every woman."
He chuckled, low in his throat. "That is true." Their kisses started slowly, hypnotic, and heated up until both of them were out of breath. "Temari," Shikamaru whispered.
"What?" Her voice was hoarse now, too, and the way he was planting feathery kisses on her neck didn't aid her concentration.
"The onions will be burnt."
…
Temari liked colors. Her favorite clothes were a dark-blue, knee-length top, black leggings and a sash of the color of the bright sky at dusk. Her skin was toned from the sun, her hair a color Shikamaru had described as wheat-yellow. Suna's colors always were muted. Dusty stone houses, matted, red-and-brown sandstone walls – the colors of the desert were more brown than golden, less green than ochre. Even the sky seemed washed-out on days, the people protecting themselves from the glaring sun with robes and clothes in muted colors. Konoha, in return, was a world of rich shadows: lush-green forests, sky like a painted canvas and red roofs, stone houses with blue and green and red doors and flowers in the pots in front of the windows. How ironic was it that Temari didn't fit into her own peoples' color scheme but in Hidden Leaf barely registered among the rich colors and hues? If only the Leaf people shared the love for colors their surroundings displayed. Since Naruto had discarded his eye-cancer-inducing orange overall the next people who came close to his former clothing standards were Maito Gai and Lee. Maybe it was a Leaf-thing but most people wore dark clothes of inconspicuous hues. Standing next to Shikamaru, Temari had often felt absurdly out of place regarding her choice of clothes. Ino, in contrast, looked like she belonged at his side: her pale skin and almost-silvery hair, her dark Anbu cloak. Ino always seemed like a study of light and shadows while Temari was simply alive.
Ino had that way of creeping into her thoughts whenever they turned dark.
There never had been a reason why Temari should have mistrusted Shikamaru. Yes, they did not see each other often, yes, there were long stretches of time between them meeting either in Suna or Konoha. But whenever Temari had been in Leaf and had met Ino she had only needed to look at the woman to know there had been nothing between her and Shikamaru. It wasn't that Ino was that transparent – rather the opposite. The Anbu seemed to have built up a wall between herself and the world and as long as it stood Temari was pretty sure nobody – not even Shikamaru – had been able to draw closer to her. Although he did seem closer to her than the others, but the same went for Chouji. And secondly, and more importantly, Temari had never felt any attraction from Shikamaru towards his childhood friend. Of course he was a man and as such she did worry about him sometimes, especially when the time between their reunions grew longer and longer. But it always seemed to resolve itself: he would visit for a weekend, unexpectedly and unofficially, or they would meet in one of the small border villages between Hi no Kuni and Kaze no Kuni. And while they didn't see each other often, and while they fought – because Temari had a temper and Shikamaru was stubborn as hell – they fit together like two puzzle pieces. Sometimes it felt so normal it scared her.
Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe Temari had just been too afraid to make it work. But what had she been afraid of?
They had had five years. Five wonderful years in which Temari had felt cherished, challenged, loved and desired. It had never mattered that Shikamaru was three years and some months younger than her and the better strategist. They had complemented each other in ways she could never have imagined before. And yet there had been stretches of doubt and worry. Not mentioning the distance between their homes – which neither of them was willing to give up – there had been the constant separation, the difficulties of upholding a long-distance-relationship. The loneliness on nights when she'd had a bad day and wanted nothing more than to feel his arms around her. The impossibility of sharing her daily ups and downs with him. Shikamaru, yesterday the ambassador of Iwa and his entourage visited and were attacked by a flock of desert geese that crossed the street, what a diplomatic incident, can you believe it? Shikamaru, Matsuri was asked out on a date and Gaara didn't talk to her for days. Shikamaru, what are you doing right now? It felt like writing letters in her head. Letters she never sent.
And Ino. The blonde Anbu was part of Temari's doubts even though she never did anything to cross the desert shinobi. Her jealousy and dislike mostly swelled when she was in Konoha – of course, otherwise she never saw the other woman and Shikamaru rarely spoke of her. But Shikamaru rarely spoke of any of his friends. Ino was there. It was a small thing, but it was enough.
But he loves you, Hana had argued. He knew her since they were children and yet he chose you.
Did he ever choose, a voice whispered in her mind. It was the voice that planted doubts like seedlings in her heart and fed, watered and groomed them until they blossomed into full-grown plants. If she wanted to blame someone she could blame the voice but it was her own mind that spoke to her either way. Had Shikamaru consciously chosen Temari or had he just taken her because she had been the first to be there?
The full moon shone into the room where Temari laid sleepless, staring at the ceiling. Six nights ago she had broken up with Shikamaru. It felt like it had happened yesterday and she didn't expect the pain to leave her anytime soon. Had it been the right decision? She couldn't say anymore. She wasn't sure of herself, in the same way she hadn't been sure of Shikamaru and his love for her. Maybe she had thought too much. Maybe she had thought too little and her decision had been too hasty. Maybe she should have waited a bit more, but then she would have been awake, nevertheless, wondering if she had done the right thing.
It was Shikamaru's fault. It was Temari's. It was Ino's – but neither of them had done anything wrong. Shikamaru's mistake had been that he was too far away; Temari's mistake had been that she hadn't been able to love him without regarding the people around them and Ino's mistake was that she loved Shikamaru but never had said anything. Temari was pretty sure about that. Everybody seemed to know – why didn't Shikamaru know? And Shikamaru couldn't change the fact that he loved Leaf and Temari was a Suna nin, Temari couldn't change the fact that she couldn't separate herself from the people around her, and Ino couldn't change the fact that she had simply been there. All of this led meant nobody could be blamed and nobody was at fault except perhaps for Temari. She had been the one to end their relationship.
"I love you," she whispered into the darkness. "But I can't see another way." What was she supposed to do? Travel to and fro between Sand and Leaf for the rest of her life, seeing a man she only saw for weeks, loving a person she only knew from short stretches of time? She was a woman, too. She wanted a husband and a home and perhaps even a child. There was nothing like that possible with Shikamaru. They could, of course, both leave their respective homes – but Temari knew leaving Hidden Sand was impossible for her without breaking her heart. She supposed it was the same for Shikamaru.
Nights never had been that long before.