Chapter 69 - Tarantella Acciaccatura

Inou felt a great deal better after a glass of water and a few, good, deep breaths.

His grandfather wouldn't stop talking. "I mean, I only got a taste of whatever memory you found, but you really grabbed him where it hurt, Inou! That's… definitely a way to get him to talk."

"Didn't find the information we were looking for," Inou grumbled.

"Yes, but it looks like we'll get that all the same. I mean, seriously, after what you did…! I was struggling to stay upright, myself."

"Grandpa."

"I'm just saying." He paused, looking over his shoulder. Orochimaru was being tended to by some lesser interrogators, who were removing the equipment from his body. Prolonged exposure to that stuff wasn't good for anyone. "Could you tell me what you did find, at any rate?"

"Yeah, I guess," Inou said. He sat up a little more on the bench they were sharing. "Gimme some paper."

They gave him some paper. And in a star-like scribble he began jotting things down.

When he came to the faces, he drew them, in bare, vague likenesses. "There were eight of them," he said. "I didn't recognize most of them, but one of them was the Sannin Jiraiya, another was… Itachi, an' another was the First Hokage. I figured he was just giving me a handful of faces to confuse me and keep me off the trail 'cos I couldn't find any more."

"Eight is eight more than our other interrogators were able to manage." Moegi had arrived, her arms severely folded behind her back. "That reaction you were able to induce, however. What sort of method did you use?"

Inou did not like bragging. Even though this wasn't, really. "I just… well, the faces—the information, I guess—manifested as dressing room doors, so I forced one of the doors open with the intent of being shown something hidden. I guess."

"You just… opened the door," Moegi said. Her face might have been sour, or perhaps just curious. "With… intent."

"Well, yeah." Inou locked his eyes on his notes. "I figure I just… wanted it enough."

"I see," Moegi said.

Behind her, the door opened. "Yamanaka-san, Uchiha-san," a junior interrogator said. "Orochimaru said he's willing to continue, under a few conditions."

"Conditions?"

"He said he'd elaborate further if you came in."

"Might as well go see what he wants, then," Inoichi said. He stood, stiffly, hands on his thighs as he went.

Inou left his notes on the bench, for whomever.

"I'll be watching," Moegi said, when they went in together. She took the notes once the door was closed.

Orochimaru—or whoever it was—sat weakly in the chair, hands restrained with normal cuffs. His skin was smudged slightly gray in some areas, where the ink sutras hadn't come off fully.

Chairs were produced for Inoichi and Inou. Inou sat far less confidently than his grandfather.

"So I heard you're willing to give us information?" Inoichi said.

"…under conditions, you understand," Orochimaru replied. He didn't lift his head, his bangs falling low over his face. There was a bandage on his left cheek, though a deep purple bruise bled out from underneath it.

"Of course. And what are these conditions?" Inoichi said.

"…please never do that to me again."

"Never do what?"

"That… what you did with my head. Please, never again, please…"

Inoichi's face creased with something resembling concern or simply sternness. "I can't make any promises."

Orochimaru's shoulders tensed. "Then at least tell me if she's okay or not… I can't… shake the feeling that she isn't."

"'She'?" Inoichi said.

"Karin." He looked up, and his bangs parted slightly to reveal a swollen, terrified right eye. "My… my mother. Please, is she all right? I have to know, please…! She's not dying, is she? Is she okay…? Did she get her medicine?"

"I'm… afraid I can't answer that," Inoichi said, looking toward the two-sided glass in a gesture that meant, "I need this information now."

(Behind the glass, there was a flurry of movement and a request for a phone call.)

The eye and its battered face filled with irrational fear. "Please, you, you have to tell me…"

"We'll figure that out as soon as we can," Inoichi said. "In the meantime, we have some questions of our own."

"What do you want to know…?" Orochimaru said.

"So this Karin woman is your… mother?" Inoichi said.

A nod, slow and almost regretful.

"Do you call her that because she took care of your body 'til you transferred your mind into it?" Inou, who remembered everything he read, said.

(That aspect had almost excited him, wondering what anomalies existed in a consciousness that had been transferred into another body.)

But Orochimaru just shook his head, his hair falling in his face again. "No, no, no, she's... she's really just my mother, honest..."

The calmness of the statement, as well as the sincerity, brought with it a very long and uncomfortable pause.

"…so you're truly not Orochimaru?" Inoichi said.

"No," Orochimaru replied, "I'm not. I'm just his…" He sighed. "I'm just his copy. My name is Ooda."

"Ooda?"

"Yes. That's… my name. I'm not Orochimaru, and I… I never have been. I'm sorry." His chin touched his chest. "I don't want to hurt any of you, I just want to protect her, I'm sorry…"

"Protect who?" Inoichi said.

"…do I really need to say…?" Orochimaru said, looking up slightly.

"You told us you would answer our questions," said Inou, stiffly.

He did not answer for a while.

Then, finally: "…please, just tell me if she's okay, that's all I ask…"

It clicked for Inou, first. "You mean Karin."

Orochimaru looked up, further. "Yes! Please, please…"

Inoichi glanced at the two-sided glass again. There was nothing.

"We'll tell you when we get that information," he replied. "In the meantime, whoever you are, how is impersonating Orochimaru helping Karin in any way? How do we know you're not just trying to fool us again?"

"I'm not fooling you! Honest!" He jerked forward a little in his chair with the force of his desperation. "I'm not Orochimaru! I'm not him…!"

"And what can you do to convince us of this?" Inoichi said.

"I, well, I…" And he breathed very deeply as he tried to think. Useless possibilities flickered in and out of existence, behind the subtle motions of his head. "…you could bring her—bring my mo—Karin to me, let me talk to her, she knows who I am."

"I don't see how that's a good idea," Inoichi said. "You've admitted to Karin being complicit with your activities. Who's to say you just want her to cover for you?"

"I would never! She's… she's my mom, I would never…!"

"Regardless, we can't allow that," Inoichi said.

"Then what can I do? Please, you have to believe me!" His mouth opened wide, lips sliding past white teeth.

"Let me see your memories," Inou said.

"What?" the two old men said.

"Let me into your head and let me look at your memories. If you're really not Orochimaru, I'll be able to tell," he continued.

Inou could not see Orochimaru's eyes, behind his hair, but he knew that fear was creeping into them from his body language alone. "You… you won't, that thing with my head, oh, please, don't, don't make me live through that again…!"

"If you have nothing to hide then I won't have to force anything and it won't hurt." Inou stood. "I honestly don't think you have a choice."

Orochimaru almost seemed to grow smaller, as he considered this. "…if it means it'll convince you then I'll do it. I'm honestly not Orochimaru, honestly, please believe me."

"We'll see." Inou began approaching him, his hand outstretched.

"Inou, maybe I should—"

"Let me do this, Grandpa. Alone. I can do this."

(Inoichi wished he could hear such confidence in his grandson's voice more often.)

(But it almost scared him, here.)

"…I trust you," Inoichi said.

And Inou put his hand on Orochimaru's lukewarm forehead and began to read.

A stage was not even bothered with. Inou didn't allow it.

He'd get his proof.

And what Orochimaru gave him was a memory of a large, hard, kind woman with red hair (the same woman on the floor with the bones in her belly but Inou wasn't thinking of that now because it made the memory shake at the edges). And she reached forward with a smile on her face, asking, "So how was work today?"

"It was fine."

Ah, so what was this? Inou was experiencing the memory from Orochimaru's perspective.

He was being cooperative.

For now.

The memory continued.

"Well how so?" The woman—Karin, Inou knew, just knew, and also Mom—was writing on a yellow pad of paper at a kitchen table. "You left early, did you make it in time for the performance?"

"Yeah. Oh my goodness, it was wonderful, Mom, you have no idea…"

The woman laughed and Inou felt a suggestion of blushing. "I'm glad you're having so much fun."

"Yeah, well, I'd still rather prefer staying home…" White feet that weren't his shuffled on the wooden floor. "…anyways, what do you want for dinner, Mom?"

Inou crossed his arms with impatience, ripping himself out of the perspective.

Too simple.

He shoved the images aside in blurs of blue and yellow and cream-red-black.

"Stop trying to distract me," he said, in words from his mind (and from his mouth). "You told me you'd cooperate."

He stared out into a hesitant blackness.

You want to prove to me that you aren't Orochimaru. And right now, I don't believe you.

A suggestion of aching resistance.

Show me what you're hiding.

Images flashed before him, of that woman with the glasses, with the red hair, with the comforting warm mother smile and the absolute and utter need to protect.

STOP IT with HER.

With both hands he pulled himself beyond the blackness and he took his incredible will with him.

Show me what you're hiding.

Inou thought and thought and thought for concrete proof to the humming drone of urgency that was a mind-full of hands groping for memories.

Inou remembered everything he had ever read.

Show me proof of who you are. Something you would never forget.

Show me the day you killed your sensei.

Nothing.

Sarutobi Hiruzen, our honored Third Hokage, you murderer, surely you remember THAT day?

The nothingness and its cold persistence was infuriating.

There was nothing.

There was nothing.

There was nothing.

WHY ARE YOU HIDING YOURSELF! SHOW ME!

Flashes of attempts of appeals of that woman of mother of no I'm not I can't be I'm no I'm not I'm not I'm not I.

QUIT FOOLING AROUND AND SHOW ME, OROCHIMARU!

Because Inou couldn't fail here if he failed here it was all over he had to prove without a doubt that he was or he wasn't or he was because if he couldn't tell then he was a failure and it wasn't a success and it wasn't a real failure either but it was still not a success and that meant it was a failure and going home a failure he couldn't deal with that he had to know he had to know he had to KNOW.

He couldn't fail here, especially not here, not.

HERE!

SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE HIDING!

There was a profound feeling of something.

Tearing.

Breaking.

And Inou got the sudden impression that he was in somebody's bed, hiding under the blankets. A door opened somewhere.

"Ooda…" That Karin mother-woman's voice. It was very soft and it made Inou's stomach flip to hear it for reasons he could not articulate.

"Mom, leave me alone…" A voice that was not Inou's. It was very young.

"What happened at school today, Ooda?" There was a weight on the end of the bed

White hands tightened around blanket edges. "I don't want to go back to school."

"Why, Ooda?"

"…because I'm a freak."

There was an echo of an emotion there, one that Inou had.

Experienced before.

In some projected space.

It was not his own emotion but it was.

"Ooda, you are not a… freak."

"Yes I am. You told me it would be okay at school. Because nobody knows him. But they still." A gulp, a sniffle. "…they still hate me, Mom..."

A hand on his back, over the blankets.

"I don't want to go back to school, Mom, I don't want to."

A long pause. "It'll be okay, Ooda. We'll talk this over when you're feeling better. It'll be okay, okay?"

A longer pause. "I hate this body. I hate him."

Something tore.

Something fell.

A film reel rattle-screamed in a darkened room.

Inou knew that film reel.

He knew that feeling and that room and that voice.

"Kabuto, dear, is the anesthesia ready?"

His knees—boy's knees—were drawn to his chest, attention fully granted to the celluloid vision of a not-father-man, a despised man.

"Should be."

"Then fetch my scalpel, if you would."

Sudden, strange tears.

An opening door. "Ooda…? It's late, what are you doing?"

Sudden, lost tears. "Just… watching surgery records. I want to help more with the next little one so I'm reviewing procedure…"

"You should get your sleep, okay? And I know how you get when you throw yourself into this too much…"

"I know, I'll… go to bed soon, Mom."

"You're such a good boy, Ooda."

But he wasn't a good man.

Why did he have to have his face?"

Did that make him a not good person too?

But Inou was a good person, wasn't he?

That face did not belong to a good person.

He hated that face.

He hated that body. Every thing about it.

Looking in the mirror and having to face those awful yellow eyes on that disgusting white skin that he knew belonged to someone else.

Knowing they were his but also his.

He hated.

Not his mother he would never blame his mother because he loved her so much so so much he hated.

Orochimaru.

For this.

For giving him this face for being so disgusting so reprehensible so awful so brilliant so utterly and completely

Wrong.

And he, Ooda, was wrong as a result.

He hated himself and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except tell himself, every day.

I am myself, and nobody else.

It was what his mother told him to say, when things got bad.

When even she noticed.

I am myself, and nobody else.

I am not him.

I will never be him.

Even though I look like him, even though I am ugly and vile and disgusting.

I am not him.

I am not Orochimaru.

But he was him here he had to be him to protect her oh Mom please be okay.

I am myself, and nobody else.

I am not Orochimaru.

I am Ooda.

"I am myself, and nobody else."

Water was leaking out of Inou's face and his hand was off of his forehead and was clamped over his mouth.

"I am myself, and nobody else…!"

"Inou, what's wrong…?" Inoichi was reaching for him.

Inou was shaking. "I am myself and nobody… oh, I'm, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…!"

"Inou…?"

He managed to choke down some composure. "He's telling the truth. He's not Orochimaru. He's… your name is Ooda."

Ooda didn't say anything, just tightening further into himself, like a drying worm.

Inoichi had his thin arms securely around Inou's weakening shoulders. He managed to get the boy back into a chair.

"He's not our guy. Oh, man, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Behind the glass, Moegi's eyebrows were almost pleasantly raised.

A junior staff member tapped her on the shoulder. "Ma'am, we have Chief Medical Officer Haruno on the phone."

There was a thing in mind-reading called the Rule of Balanced Reactions.

"Ma'am?"

If, following an interrogation, the interrogator had lost more composure than the target, then that meant that a stronger interrogator was needed. In the most extreme reactions, likewise, that the target had booby-trapped their mind with genjutsu.

"Ma'am, we have Haruno-sama on hold."

If the target had lost more composure than the interrogator then that meant progress. It was the most desired effect.

But, ah, if both target and interrogator had been reduced to shivering wrecks…?

"I'm sorry for that. Ooda. I'm sorry." Inou's voice, through the speaker on the wall, was full of uncontainable tears.

The strong, highly-empathetic reaction—especially the repeated mantra at the end, that was a deep thought, to be so verbally persistent—suggested not a genjutsu trap but a reading gone so deep that memories and consciousnesses had been briefly shared as one.

Especially the so-sudden familiarity of names. A genjutsu used a target's own brain against them, which was a strength in its capacity for creativity, but also a serious weakness. Things like honorifics and unfamiliarity remained, no matter how much a friendship might try to be forged.

(At least, not with something this quick.)

What happened with Inou suggested utter trust, and it was dangerous and very difficult to attain but it was also the most undeniable.

"The phone, please," Moegi said, and it was handed to her. "Hello, Sakura-sensei? Yes, yes, we merely have some requests and an update on our current situation here."

"Well, what is it?" Sakura said.

"I'd like to know the condition of the subject Karin as soon as possible."

"Karin…? She's, well, last time I checked, she was entirely stable and not in very much pain… Why?"

"Meeting a condition. Having said that, have a space prepared as quickly as you can, we'll be transferring an individual to your hospital for treatment very shortly."

"Huh? Who?"

"A young man named Ooda. He has many injuries that were never or have not yet been fully treated. Beyond that, he's exhausted and I doubt he'd be able to answer the questions I have for him in his state."

A pause. "…Ooda? Who?"

"We've been formerly, falsely calling him Orochimaru, I believe," Moegi said.

"…formerly? Moegi-san-"

"It's a strange situation, to say the least. But at any rate, we need him in your hospital. And," she added, glancing sideways through the glass again, "I have a feeling that Karin might want to see him. Let her know he's on his way."

She could hear Sakura opening and closing her mouth as she processed the information. And, finally, she said, "Do you still want a more accurate relay of her condition?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Moegi said. "We'll get back to you soon." She hung up without a further word, and opened the door to the interrogation room. "Uchiha-san, are you all right?"

"Fine, fine, m'fine," Inou sputtered. He was rocking in place, slightly, in his chair, holding his peach-pale, naked arms with his hands. "I just need to…"

"Go home and rest, you did an excellent job. I trust you'll be able to escort him properly, Inoichi-sama?"

"I think we'll be fine, Moegi-chan," Inoichi said. His hands tightened their grip in Inou's arms and back. "Think you can stand?"

"What are you going to do to him? He's… he's hurt," Inou said, with a very, very quiet voice, looking up, looking at Ooda.

Ooda, in his chair, had slumped over as far as the restraints could allow him, and he was breathing very shallowly.

"Ooda-san, we still have many questions for you, but we're going to be taking you to the hospital to treat you." Moegi folded her hands behind her back again. "We won't attempt anything further until you've recovered."

There wasn't any response, just a sideways tilt of the head that might have been a drop from sheer exhaustion.

"Likewise," she continued, "if things go as planned we may allow you to see your mother again."

"Karin," Inou said, managing to sit up.

Ooda's white-streaked-gray chest shook and tightened suddenly.

"I've been informed that she's in good condition and is not in any pain."

Another sudden tightening. He tried to swallow.

"Is there anything else you want to know before we move you?"

He couldn't even lift his head to speak to her. A tear, then another, and another fell into his lap, darkening the fabric. He breathed in through his nose, loudly.

"…please, can I… can I have a shirt or a… blanket or something… I'm cold…"

Inou, trying to stand, had to lean against his grandfather as a wave of shared hatred for that body and the shaking terror that everyone was looking at it and all the fear of further judgment targeted his knees.

Moegi noticed.

As soon as they had Ooda unshackled he hid his face in his hands and did not remove them, except to put on a tunic-shirt that had been brought for him and to wrap a blanket around his shoulders.

A staff member left to go inform the Hokage.

Inoichi took his grandson home, walking too close together, for fear that the boy would collapse and melt away.

He had never seen such a strong reaction—and gently probing Inou's mind out of worry filled him with a rippling mental nausea of dysmorphic thoughts, echoes and aftershocks of a once-shared consciousness.

It just confirmed what he already knew.

Inou had more than surpassed him. His youth and his masked confidence made him reckless, but it also made him fearless.

Even Inoichi would never had dared to go that deep. But Inou had.

And it had hurt him, certainly. Inoichi had no idea how long it would take for him to recover—though he undeniably would recover. His mind would sort itself out into "my thoughts" and "other/his/target/not-my thoughts" and whatever had shaken him so would fade.

(Undoubtedly, the target, that Ooda boy, would recover likewise. Though Inoichi doubted that he had the mental resilience that Inou possessed.)

He tried to give his daughter a little forewarning.

Ino, Ino, are you home?

Her reply was quick, and baffled. Daddy? What is it?

I'm bringing Inou home. He's not feeling very well, so please don't be upset.

Inou…? Daddy, what happened?

Side-effect of a mind-reading. I'll explain everything when I get to your house, but please don't be alarmed. He's not feeling very well.

Mind-reading? What exactly was he doing…?

I told you I'd explain when I got there. Just be ready for us.

There was a cautious pause.

Of course, Daddy. I'll be waiting.

They walked on.

"You feeling all right, Inou?" Inoichi asked, after a while.

"…want my mom…" Inou mumbled.

"We'll be home before you know it, champ. Just hang on."

("What are you doing?" Sasuke, the great house-pacer, asked Ino, who was waiting by the stairway with the nail of her thumb in her mouth. "Are you waiting for someone? What are you doing?")

She was not there when Inoichi and Inou arrived.

Sasuke greeted them, attracted by the sound of the opening door. Inoichi was setting Inou down on the foyer step.

"What are you doing back home? Aren't you supposed to be training?"

Inou looked up and over his right shoulder with an uncomfortable mixed expression of hopelessness, anger, and utter fear.

"Inou's been on a mission, I'm just bringing him home," Inoichi said, his expression shifted into the default, neutral worry that came with dealing with his son-in-law.

"I didn't hear about any mission."

"It was recent and it was classified. Where's my daughter?"

"What sort of mission?" Sasuke's glare sniper-shot its way between the old man and the boy. "This had better be justified."

Grandpa please don't tell him don't tell him don't tell him he'll hurt me.

"Trust me," Inoichi said, trying not to betray his disturbance, "it's more than justified." He looked beyond Sasuke's shoulder. "Ino! I'm here!"

Ino, hurry, please, your husband got here before you.

"I'd still like an explanation," Sasuke said.

Ino was coming down the hall. Inou, in hearing her, began to get up. It was a difficulty, his hands slipping off of his knees. He fell forward, and was caught by Inoichi.

"I mean really," Sasuke continued, after scoffing.

"Daddy, what's going on?" Ino said. She pushed her way past Sasuke (receiving her own glare in miniature for the sacrilegious act of touching him) and toward them. "Inou, honey, what's the matter?"

"He's just a little exhausted and needs to rest, nothing more," Inoichi explained.

"Exhausted from what, exactly? I don't see any injuries, and your clothes are spotless," Sasuke said, crossing his arms. "If this is from some frivolous Yamanaka technique then I swear."

"Sasuke, does it even matter?" Ino rolled her eyes over her shoulder before reaching for Inou's back.

"…don't insult that, you don't know anything…" Inou's voice was half-closed, like his eyes.

Sasuke's only movement was a further narrowing of his eyes. "What did you just say."

"…completed an S-rank mission with mind-reading, don't say it's fuh-frivolous, Dad…"

Ino sucked her breath in, quickly.

"You do not lie to me," Sasuke said. "You can hardly finish C-ranked missions."

"…m'not lying…"

"He is not lying. I assisted him," Inoichi added. "I witnessed it."

"Then you must have done most of the work. Which isn't saying much."

"Sasuke, do not insult my father!" Ino said.

"Ino, let it go, it's all right," Inoichi said, though he was far less used to it than she was.

"Really, what was this mission in the first place? I'm reserving judgment until I hear that," Sasuke said. He was tapping his foot.

(Yakata was in Hajime's room with its original owner, awkwardly learning about ink and shape.)

"…I hurt Ooda, I'm sorry…"

The wrinkles around Sasuke's mouth creased intensely. "…what did you say."

Inou didn't say anything, just trying to slip further out of his grandfather's and his mother's approaching embrace, to hold his knees on the foyer step again.

"Inou, I told you to speak up, is that really so hard?"

"Sasuke, he's very exhausted right now, be a little more understanding," Inoichi said. Ino was bending down to Inou's level.

"I asked him a question, he can surely answer that, can't he?"

Inou, now sitting, had begun to rock back and forth, head bowed forward. "…I'm sorry…" he said.

"Inou, what did you say about someone named Ooda? You will answer me!"

"Sasuke!" Ino snapped, softly.

Inoichi breathed in deeply, considering. And he said, "Ooda is the name of a man that's been impersonating Orochimaru. And Inou was the one to unmask him, which is a very-"

"Impersonating?" Sasuke stumbled back, slightly. "What do you mean, impersonating?"

"…he's not Orochimaru, he's Ooda…" Inou said. "He's not Orochimaru, he's not, he's not, he's not…"

Ino began stroking her son's back.

"It's a complicated situation," Inoichi said.

"Don't mock me," said Sasuke. "What do you mean by impersonating?"

"From what we understand, it was for the sake of some woman named Karin. We don't know why, exactly, yet, but-"

Inou curled tighter into himself at the name and moaned, softly.

"Then who the hell is he, exactly? AND STOP DOING THAT!" he added, to the floor, to Inou's curling body. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sasuke, be quiet!" Ino said. She held her son just that little bit more tightly, feeling him tense up beneath her arms.

"Sasuke, Inou's honestly worn out from the effort, you shouldn't yell at him," Inoichi said, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

"You do not tell me how to treat my children," Sasuke hissed, before scoffing, again. "So even his little mind-games are wearing him out, now? I should just give up on you."

Inou stood with a surprising quickness and strength, forcing his body out of his mother's arms.

And he faced his father with his feet wide apart, breathing heavily, trying to gather anger in the eyes that looked like his.

Sasuke's face remained thin and condescending.

"M'not gonna give up," Inou said.

"Then work harder," Sasuke replied.

Inou's pressed his lips together, tightly, his only defense against a likely-fatal case of tears.

He ran down the hallway and into the kitchen when he knew he was losing.

Ino followed. Sasuke didn't.

"Pathetic," he sighed, shaking his head.

Inoichi said nothing.

"So, really," Sasuke continued, "this impersonator, who is he and where are they keeping him."

"I'm not the one to ask," Inoichi said.

"Bullshit, you just said-"

"What I did was give my grandson his proper due. If you want to know more, you can ask Moegi the Head Interrogator or the Hokage," Inoichi said. He crossed his arms.

"You said he was an impersonator and it was for Karin's sake, you can't just say that much," Sasuke said. "Tell me more."

"That," Inoichi replied, "was a breach in conduct and it will not happen again. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to return to my shop."

"You won't-"

"If you want to know more there are other people you can ask. But not me. Excuse me."

Sasuke was too frustrated to follow.

(Though Inoichi got a suggestion of dark movement as he rounded the corner and back onto the street that led to his shop.)

(If it hadn't been for that man he would have freely told Ino everything, but.)

In the house, Ino couldn't find her son. Not in the kitchen, anyway.

It was when she heard someone gasping outside that she discovered him, bent over himself on the outdoor walkway, shivering despite the late August heat.

"Inou, honey, are you okay?" She approached him carefully and quietly, stepping down onto the courtyard and moving around to face him.

He almost leaped forward in clinging to her.

This surprised Ino, even with her arms wrapping around his back on instinct.

She hadn't rightly hugged him since he was maybe five or six years old.

It was around that age he started to learn that boys were not allowed to hug their mothers.

("It's weakness and it encourages him to depend on others. You can't coddle him.")

But here he was, depending on her, and very, very weak.

"…Mom, don't go anywhere, please…"

She put her hand on the back of his head, rising barely above her shoulder, and she did not let go of his back. He was the smallest of her sons, smaller than her other two had been, at fourteen.

"It's okay, honey, I'm here."

"…please, can't let anything happen to you… Mom, I'm sorry…"

And she hushed and shushed and ran her hand along the back of his head and his black hair.

"It's okay, Inou. Nothing's going to happen to me."

She held him for as long as he needed to.

It was a very long time.

(Ino was never so grateful for Sasuke to be away.)