Day 15:

There's a fine layer of dust coating every one of their belongings. Not for the first time, Sakura wishes they could've stayed somewhere even slightly more comfortable than this, but this "hotel" is closest to the parties, and it's also the least suspicious place for Ino to return to at night. At least their makeshift bed is a reasonable size. Sort of. They both manage to fit on it without touching each other, at least.

"It's like everything is just more," Ino tries to explain, yet again, the sensation of the Rapture in her blood. It's not easy – the feeling is really beyond description. Just good. The best. Dangerously so. "Being connected to everyone around you, and each person is like a being, but I don't mean just a person, and – hey! Quit laughing at me, Forehead!"

Sakura tries and fails to stifle her giggles. "Sorry, Pig, but you sound like… well, like you're high."

"Go figure."

"Sorry," she smiles sheepishly. "Go on."

When she's sure that Sakura's laughter has subsided, Ino continues. "Being at the parties, it's like every single person there is a kindred spirit – and I know that sounds cheesy," she preempts Sakura's impending remark, "but somehow, I know those people, even though I don't, like we're all drops of water in an ocean. Do you know what I mean?"

"Nope."

Sakura has no idea what she means. As far as she knows, she's a human in a human body with a human mind. Whatever Ino is feeling isn't something she's experienced. It sounds nice though, honestly; Sakura has never had such a connection with anyone that wasn't painful and one-sided, let alone a room full of people, which brings her full circle back to what she originally meant when she'd asked Ino to tell her what it's like.

It's embarrassing though. It makes her feel like they're two preteens at a sleepover again, with Ino in her infinite experience and wisdom, and Sakura with all her shy curiosity. She tries to keep the question hidden, but Ino, in her hyper-attuned state, can practically feel the trepidation emanating from the other girl.

"Something wrong?"

"Not – not exactly…"

Ino raises an eyebrow. "So what isn't exactly wrong, then?" She asks teasingly, and Sakura blushes, her fingers curling around the tarp anxiously.

"I just, I was wondering… what about the, uh, the other stuff?"

"Other stuff?"

Sakura's eyes drifts to the mattress, the careful, calculated distance between their bodies. A very necessary one.

In any other moment, Ino might've made fun of her for her naivety, but as it is, the drugs in her system squash any malicious or hostile feelings, even the harmless ones so characteristic of their friendship. She can only find the question endearing.

"You mean the physical things?" Ino asks outright, much to Sakura's increasing bashfulness.

"Well, yeah, I mean… you know, I've never… felt anything like that, so…"

Ino suppresses her smile. "It feels good," she says simply, but Sakura's face falls slightly at the short description.

"That's it? Just good?"

"It feels great. Amazing, actually. But, I mean," she grins, "how explicit do you want me to be here?"

"How – I just want to know the answer, so…"

It's hard to think about anything. Ino's mind keeps drifting into places she doesn't want it to go, and she finds herself in a constant battle to yank it back in place. It's easier here, outside of the party, but only in some ways. In others, it's harder, and she considers sidestepping the question entirely. Girl talk or not, the drugs make this a precarious situation.

It'll be nice to be sober again when the mission is over, she thinks, even though some part of her brain is singing a refrain, will it? Are you sure? Ino clamps down on it as best she can. If Sakura knew, she'd probably try and keep her from going back to Satoshi and the Rapture. Their mission would be blown. So, in the meantime, she's stuck this way for now, drugged up and soaring higher than the hokage monument.

It's not like it's unpleasant or anything; the problem is that it's quite the opposite. Even though Sakura rather adorably finds the physical effects of the Rapture the most intriguing - and not just in the name of science, as she might claim - the truth is that the emotional ones are far more intense. The interconnectedness of all living things. The partyers, joyous and celebratory, happy just to be together, dancing and kissing and laughing. She doesn't miss it when she's here, though, and that's another thing that Sakura probably doesn't need to know about.

"Pig?" Sakura ventures nervously.

Ino isn't sure how to answer yet. The drugs are skewing her perception. The fact of the matter is that, when Sakura touches her during check-ups and chakra scans, her hands are warm and soft and electrifying in a way that not even Satoshi's are – and Ino isn't stupid. Intensity of emotion is an effect of the Rapture, and it's because they know each other that this is happening. Satoshi is a stranger, but she and Sakura have had an emotionally charged relationship right from the time they met. They've forged a place in each other's hearts and struggled, bled and hurt to keep it there. They've worried for each other, cried and fought and feared together, so it makes sense, then, that the drug is exponentially expanding those emotions, that closeness, turning the feelings into something vaster.

If being at the party with strangers feels like being in a room full of people with whom she's incredibly close, than being with Sakura, someone she's actually close with, feels like…

Well. There's a reason they're not touching.

Even now, watching Sakura's curious, anxious face, Ino's heart is slow and steady and sure of the things she's feeling, the sensations like hot sake on a cold day, that overtake her. Like she could lie here and listen to Sakura speak and answer her questions forever, and be happy – forever. But it's drugs. Hormones. Chemicals. It's not real. She knows this because she'd never felt his way before the Rapture, and she wants to laugh at herself for the idiocy of it, only, it's getting harder to do that.

It doesn't seem as absurdly funny as it did when she'd first realized what was happening a little over a week ago. It feels serious, and absolute, and wondrous, like the first time she'd seen snow as a child – but, see, that's a high thought. Not a real one.

But what is "real"? Her brain asks her. If it feels real, then isn't it?

No, wait, does that make sense…?

And more importantly, is there a way to find out? Sakura is watching her with wide, curious eyes, all anxious and vulnerable at having her ignorance exposed, and Ino remembers the days when Sakura would look at her like that all the time, when every question was laced with self-conscious fear and admiration. When Sakura looked up to her and Ino looked at her, even if Sakura never thought they stood on equal ground. Back then, she saw someone whose emotions were too big for her body. A little girl starved for love with her heart wide open, so badly in need of armor that Ino wrapped herself around it like a suit of iron to keep her safe.

She's proud of that now. Not for what she'd done so much as what she'd helped to create. The affection is syrupy sweet, and urgent, and it warms her in a few – drug induced, she reminds herself – ways that she probably shouldn't mention.

Sakura's hardly a little girl anymore.

And she's so damn curious. So inexperienced and naïve. And Ino is a pretty good teacher, you know.

"Drugs," Ino mutters aloud, because her vocal chords work even if her mind is mushy as pudding. "God damn drugs…"

Sakura blinks. "What?"

They're so close. They could be even closer. Their relationship is feather soft and strong as Kiba's favorite liquor, and it hits Ino all at once that she's actually, genuinely never been closer to anyone in her entire life. Her friendship with Sakura is the most meaningful relationship she has, and has ever had.

Is that a real thought? The drugs?

…What's the difference, again?

Ino reaches blindly into her thoughts for the sober part of her brain and finds her grasping fingers filled with nothing but more of the same. Looking into her mind's eye is like looking into a kaleidoscope inside a kaleidoscope inside a kaleidoscope. The drug is peaking. Maybe she should've waited longer for the last dose to wear off before putting on another patch.

"Have you ever touched yourself?"

"I – what?!" Sakura flinches. Her hands come up to her reddened face as if to hide herself. "Why the hell would you ask me that?!"

Ino once again fights back her smile. She doesn't want to make her feel worse, after all. "I'm not going to ask for a demonstration, Sakura. Jeez. I'm just wondering if you have any context whatsoever."

This seems to convince her. Slowly, Sakura lowers her hands, though her face is still the color of a hot pepper.

"Well – yeah, I mean, a few times…"

A bleacher full of miniature Inos has filled Ino's mind, their pink flags waving as they cheer, touch her! Come on, she'll like it!

She ignores them.

"It feels like that, only all over your body," Ino says calmly as if there isn't a chorus of voices in her head demanding she get naked and just show her, because actions speak louder than words, after all, and what better way to explain something to someone than to show them? And then she could complete this connection, her body like a lit fuse waiting to be grounded in something solid, as if she and Sakura are cosmic forces… two particles floating in an abyss of vibrating atoms, diaphanous and ethereal but somehow existing in this strange, intergalactic motion of centripetal force, as two people trying to speak over the susurrate whispers of a million voices, just to hear, to feel each other, anything tangible and meaningful in the constant struggle of this Sisyphean task called life – !

High thoughts.

Damn drugs. God. Damn. Drugs.

Touch her! The Inos scream.

"Oh…" Sakura perceptibly swallows, shifting nervously against the noisy plastic covered mattress.

Do it now! Don't you want to feel good?!

"Uh? Ino? What are you –"

"Hush," Ino demands gently. She scoots forward until they're close, so close, facing each other.

"Pig, I don't think –"

Neither does Ino. She kisses Sakura's forehead and it feels like the first dip into a hot spring after a long workout. Her lips tingle.

So does everywhere else.

The emotions weave seamlessly into the physical sensation, and it's not at all like the throng of bodies at the parties, or Satoshi. It's deeper and wider and bigger than that. Her heart flutters and she sighs, satisfied in a sense that she hadn't known needed satiating, or maybe that it even existed. Ducking her chin down, she nuzzles her face into Sakura's, and the girl freezes at the touch, confused and unsure but still so damn trusting.

The added skin contact expands the emotions from where they'd been coiled and condensed in Ino's stomach like a led ball. Their noses bump together and Ino's lips part, and she can feel Sakura's breath on her face, and whatever is happening in her head is bigger and more important than anything else has ever been. Her chest tightens at the excruciating emotions wrapping around her heart and squeezing, strong enough to make her eyes water and her stomach drop as if someone has stolen the ground out from beneath her.

Sakura just looks confused.

Which means she can't feel it.

Ino pulls away and laughs so hard she snorts.

"Uh…?"

"Just checking something," Ino promises.

It's definitely just the drugs.