Four: Remember
Author's Note: I still feel bad for not having updated in so long. So here's another update. Thanks to hashire for sticking with this story, and for always having the nicest things to say. Let's be friends, hashire!
I'm still unhappy with the way I'm writing right now, but I'll push through anyway. Practice, practice. And if I really need to, I'll do a rewrite. Later, later.
Ino was running again.
Her stride was broken by the pain that plagued her, a pain not reflected by bodily wounds. Her breathing was far more ragged than exhaustion merited, broken by shuddering, half-formed sobs rather than tired lungs and a fiercely beating heart. Ino reached out, running hands along ribs, searching for wounds that should have been there but weren't, desperately seeking the blood that she knew was seeping from her body.
Of course she wouldn't find it. This wasn't her body, after all.
Stumbling through the forest, Ino didn't know where she was going. Unfamiliar hands, far too big, far too heavily calloused, reached out to part the branches as she clawed her way through the undergrowth. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. She was angry, so angry, and beyond reason. She was searching for hurt, for pain, for despair that could match her own. She was searching for a continuity between her mind and this foreign body, for symmetry.
She thought she heard voices calling out to her, and she turned, too suddenly, tripped. She crashed to the ground all in a tangle of limbs, striking her face on the ground, as if she had lost control of this body's arms and legs. She felt too distant from the movement, from sensation and awareness. She was losing control, her own mind slipping away. She tried to focus: left leg, right arm, right leg, stand. Movement became stiff, almost robotic, an unnatural fixation on moving one limb at a time. Then, unbalanced, she was back on her feet and sprinting again.
She could see blood on her hands, knew that it was her own. She tried so hard to ignore it, to look away, but it was all she could think about. Her spectacular failure, that unimaginable pain, the horror of feeling her own skeleton, broken, exposed to the touch of shaking hands. Then, anger. Hot, desperate, unnatural anger, rage, anguish. She was suffering and didn't want to admit it to herself. She was exhausted, but terrified of stopping.
The forest suddenly broke around her and she stumbled free of the undergrowth, feeling the persistent itch of a dozen lacerations through torn clothes, feeling the burning pinpoints of thorns embedded in the cloth. Up ahead she could see that the ground suddenly dropped away; she had managed to make her way back to the ravine somehow, directionless, blind. It was oddly silent as she hurled herself towards the edge, feet skidding on dust as she came to a shuddering halt, brown eyes peering down.
There was nothing below her for about a hundred meters, nothing but sheer cliffs, feather-tufted aeries, climbing vines and exposed root systems, and then there was the riverbed. She remembered how it looked in the spring, the waters swollen, rushing, roaring with the addition of the melting snows. Now, though, at the beginning of the dry season it seemed that the river had dwindled to a mere trickle, barely visible from this height.
Ino would taste that water, she decided. She straightened, placing hands on knees to force herself upright, and then there were voices and footsteps behind her. She turned, slowly.
"Kira!" Someone shouted, a strange face, confused. "Kira, what the hell is going on?"
Ino didn't say anything. She simply turned, shifted her weight, and allowed this body to topple over the edge of the cliff.
Shouts followed her as she fell, quickly drowned out by the sound of rushing winds. She hadn't pushed away far enough, and her legs struck the cliff face as she tumbled, jerking hard on her legs, tearing skin and flesh and tendons, sending her into a helpless cartwheel, plummeting ever downwards. The pain threatened to dislodge her hold on this mind but she held on, wanting to see as much of the end as she could manage. Held on, but struggled ever more.
The ground was rushing up towards her at an alarming speed. She wouldn't hit the water, she knew; she would miss it, would strike the exposed rocks of the dry bed. Of course, it made little difference to her.
She was cutting it close, making it dangerous, but she didn't care. She was more than halfway to the ground when she forced these alien arms in front of her, trying to focus as the world spun around her on an unfamiliar axis, forcing these too-large hands to form the requisite seal. She opened her mouth, felt the rushing winds steal her breath away, waited.
The ground rushed up.
She closed her eyes, screaming to dispel the jutsu.
And she swore she could hear the horrifying crunch of a human body being obliterated by stone.
Startled awake with terrifying ferocity, Ino jolted upright, coming to her feet so fast that she struck her hip hard on the edge of the table. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as a debilitating headrush settled in, blood draining from her face. Her heart felt like it had seized in her chest, and she clutched at her shirt, breathing hard and ragged. For a terrifying moment, she felt distant from her own body, as if her mind were pulling away, was abandoning her. Then, getting ahold of herself, she stopped.
And everything came rushing back.
The store was empty, silent, as was the street beyond. Darkness had fallen already. She didn't remember when she had fallen asleep, resting her head on crossed arms, her weight draped over the counter. All she remembered was noting to herself that she was very, very tired, and how much she wished that she had managed to get even the tiniest amount of rest the night before.
She could hear her own heart beating in the silence. She bit her lip hard, trying not to cry, trying hard to convince herself that it had been a dream and not a memory, forcing her hands to her sides to stop herself from searching for blood, for pain, for wounds that were now scars.
She was shaking.
She reached back to untie her apron before she tore it savagely over her own head, hurling it under the counter, not caring as it slipped free and pooled on the floor. She grabbed at her purse, her keys, and got up to leave the store. It was long past closing time, and though she should have at least straightened up the place a little, she couldn't be bothered. All she wanted to do was go home, regardless of what might be waiting there for her. She didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about anything.
She was suffering, now, and she admitted it to herself. All she wanted to do was give in to her primitive urges to seek comfort, safety, familiarity.
Nearly two streets away from the store, Ino wondered suddenly if she had even locked the store as she left it. A street later, she told herself that she didn't even care. Two streets further along, and her apartment building came into sight. Her tired eyes found her own windows, her own balcony. Her room was dark. She wondered briefly if Sakura was even there anymore.
Wondered, and prayed. She didn't want to be alone tonight.
Sakura was still there.
She had been lying down on Ino's couch, looked as if she had been sleeping before Ino's clumsy entrance startled her upright. She had bedhead, looked adorable, would have made Ino grin in spite of herself if only she weren't quite so upset. She looked confused, out of place, apprehensive at Ino's return; she looked as frightened as the blonde did, her expression twitching from defensive aloofness to selfless concern, coming around the couch when she saw Ino's panic, heard her frantic breathing, saw the trembling of her shoulders. She stopped herself, half-way, as if suddenly remembering that it was not her place to go to Ino anymore.
Ino stared back at her for a long moment, torn. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted. No, that wasn't quite right. She knew what she wanted, but she was unsure of what she should have wanted, of whether or not she could deal with it if she got it, of what would happen if she didn't. She was afraid when she knew she should have been apathetic. She was desperate when she knew she should have been strong. She was suffering when she knew she should feel nothing.
Ino began to cry.
And when Sakura came to her, her heart sang.