Light and thunder

Bright light emerged from the candle beside her, the warmth of the flame was rough against her skin and lashes, her body shook with lack of strength. She was wet with sweat, tired, airless.

The sheets were too tight around her, almost trapping her to the bed. Her skin burned from the heat. She wiggled her arms off the sheet to free them and knocked over the candle and its intolerable heat. Alas, the darkness brought no coolness, the only window in the room was behind translucent curtains that allowed her to see the storm ravaging the night. Wind whistled against the glass in delightful invite and Ino bit her lips with longing.

Bursts of light from lightning bolts and its thunder aftereffect were her only source of light around the otherwise black chamber, they lasted mere blinks of her weak eyes and she gasped at the blurry vision of her limbs. Both her pale arms were pierced with needles on her dark green-colored veins, IV bags attached to each of them through tubes.

Tears hung on Ino's eyes at the pitiful picture before her, just imagining how weak she looked made her stomach revolt with repulsion and untamed fear. Quick breaths through her mouth were unable to fill her lungs, and tears ran through her cheeks. With a quick painful motion, she took the needles out, digging her nails in the soft skin in haste, and liquid wet her forearms, deliciously soothing her.

It wasn't enough. It was not. Ino moved her legs and felt the sheet tear by her frenetic, uncoordinated, movements, the sound was muffled by a new passing thunder. Down she fell, her legs unable to hold her weight, her knees crashed against the cold tile of the floor and she welcomed the pain with open arms, pain was good, pain was a distraction, she was used to be hurt now.

She rested her forehead on the floor and let the cold soothe her burning skin, drops of sweat pulled around her vision and she breathed through her mouth. Harsh, shallow breaths were everything she managed. Panic blossomed on her chest and tangled its branches around her lungs as bindweed. Control. She needed to regain control of herself, everything that led to this point as a consequence of her lack of rule.

Resolute, she hit her head against the tile. Pain was good. Pain was something she knew. Pain forced her to focus.

Breathe, Ino. She thought and smashed her head against the floor. Breathe, Ino. She gritted her teeth when the collision came. Fucking breathe, Ino. Her forehead throbbed painfully when it connected again with the tile. Breathe, fucking breathe you useless scum! She exhaled the remaining air in her lungs and froze, horrified at the prospect that, now, she was completely deprived of oxygen. She dug her nails in her cheeks and smashed her forehead once, twice, quick, painful motions to regain her wits. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Her chest was heavy, it burned, it compressed. Black dots appeared at the corner of her eyes and were quick to eat away her vision. No sound came out of her vocal cords. Help was not coming.

She shut her eyes and hit her head once more and the pain, finally, broke her barriers. She took a mouthful of cold, precious air, then other and other, until she was able to breathe somewhat normally.

She kept there until the pool of sweat under her reached a shameful proportion, and shutting her eyes forcefully and opening them again, she dragged herself until she was under the window of the room and stood slowly.

Her knees wobbled and opening the window was a painful task that she carried out with weak, trembling fingers, clinging to the frame to give her legs some rest. Wind was unforgiving today, the glass trembled with the force of the blast that hit, and droplets of water caressed harshly her skin. The cold of the rain appeased her, helped her, she closed her eyes to protect them from Mother Nature. The air smelled of grass and wet wood.

She heard the door opening but could not find the strength to turn, she rested more of her weight on the frame. "INO!" Warm (too warm) hands grabbed her shoulders and took her away from the window that comforted her. She wanted to complain and return to her previous position but turquoise eyes much like her own interrupted her line of vision, and the plea died in her throat. "You're burning up! Why isn't a doctor here?!"

"Inoichi-sama, nurses and medics are tending to critical patients, they're our priority after the inv-"

Inoichi's skin turned red, veins popped out of his neck and he bared his teeth, he looked feral, dangerous, so much like when she last saw him. "Get a doctor. Now." He roared but caressed gently her cheek. There was no response, Ino thought that whoever was with him went to comply with the demand. "Oh, Ino…" he whispered, "I'm so sorry I left you, they called me –I –I won't leave you again, I promise. If they try to make me again I swear…"

But the sentence was left without completion, a soft huff went past his lips and nothing more. He picked her up with the slowness of an old man carrying a fragile thing, and gently put her on the bed.

Lantern lights made their way to the room from the hallway, joining thunders and lightning bolts on preventing the darkness from creeping in. Inoichi's fingers touched the patches of skin where she had ripped the needles off, his eyes –and almost immediately, his thumb made its way to her forehead and his brows furrowed deeper, his mouth flattening on a thin line. "You hurt yourself." He whispered, there was anger bubbling under the surface, but his touch was soft.

Even in her feverish state, Ino noticed that he did not speak in the past tense.

She provided no response, it wasn't expected. The dryness of her throat, the itching of her skin, and the pain she was under allowed her silence. Even when dying, she thought, there was comfort. Now, just pain and shame.

Inoichi kept talking, mumbling, whispering as if praying to a God that, now, Ino thought non-existent. Should she think like that when so close to the gates of death? It would be smarter to pretend her faith while the Shinigami breathed so close to her neck, but she was never sharp like that.

"You need to rest," Inoichi mumbled, his lips pressed gently on her forehead, "but with that, I know the doctor will advise to keep you awake now."

Darkness? No, there will be no rest for her, the voices will come back if she slept, the only comfort that consciousness brought was the silence in her mind.

"Please talk to me Ino, say something." Inoichi pleaded, "it has been two weeks my love, you should have been up days ago, we gave you the blood you needed, they assured me that you weren't in danger anymore but you didn't wake up," his hands trembled on top of hers but his voice carried a calmness too noticeable to be real. Ino wished he would go away to relieve a little bit of the unbearable warmth his closeness brought.

Ino blinked, there was an urgency in Inoichi's stance that she was not able to appease, she still could speak no words, could bring no comfort, her throat constricted with dryness, she felt too weak to even try to comply with his request.

Inoichi planted another kiss on her forehead and tensed at the sound of somebody entering the room, Ino moved her eyes and felt her head pulsate with the effort it took. "Took you long enough," Inoichi said, finally retreating enough and giving her breathing space.

"I apologize Inoichi-sama, with so many casualties and injured we-"

"Check on Ino, she has a fever and probably a concussion, she took the tubes out as well." The medic did not justify himself further and walked towards her to check her, he clicked his tongue with his front teeth –he was clearly displeased with her behavior-, but held his tongue. Inoichi was looking at him like a hawk.

A faint green aura decorated his palms and when he touched her forehead a huge wave of relief made her open her mouth and a weak sigh escaped her dry lips. "Yes, she has a fever," he said -and Inoichi scoffed-, "an infection perhaps."

"Aren't her wounds healed? You told me-"

"Please, Inoichi-sama, I'm just trying to think of the cause, perhaps her chakra depletion has to do with it as well, I wouldn't put past it."

Inoichi pursed his lips but spoke no further, after a moment of glow, the medic stopped his ministrations on her head, and moved her hands to her forearms and her torso, "no signs of infection." He said, turning off the technique.

"Check again-"

"Inoichi-sama, please, I have been checking on her every single day, I know how to do my job." The doctor replied, he glanced at her for a moment, and then looked at Inoichi once more, "keep her awake for now, we'll bring some water for her to take, small sips only until her stomach can process more."

"Bring me a blackboard as well."

"Inoichi-sama, she's too weak to-"

"Do you have any better ideas to keep her awake?" Inoichi deadpanned, "I just want to know if my daughter is fine. Mentally. It's not your field of expertise, is it?" He asked, and the man remained silent, blush creeping up his neck.

"As you wish, Inoichi-sama." The man bowed with contempt and followed the nurse out of the room. With the help of his Jutsu, Ino's fever receded, but her head still hurt. Inoichi's attention was on her once more, his presence as close as before the medic's entrance.

Ino was in between blinks when the blackboard arrived, forced to write on a black base with white chalk-like during Academy days, the chalk was dry on her fingers, white particles fell and stained her robes.

"Now, Ino, dear. I need to know how are you feeling, can you write it down for me? Can you try?"

Ino did not want to engage in any type of conversation, looking at her father now brought her sadness, she did not –could not, forget the remembrance of the him with which she went under darkness. The wind flew forcefully in between the curtains of the room, a thunder broke the silence. Still, she nodded and saw Inoichi relax his features.

It was harder for her to move the chalk across the board than to open a window without urgency and desperation fueling her movements, and yet, she moved, her writing was inadequate, childish, it lacked its usual finesse.

It hurts.

"Oh, my baby girl." Inoichi sighed and caressed her cheek, his eyes softening. "I'm so glad you're awake." He seemed so old now that she was able to see without the heat burning her insides, her heart throbbed painfully on her chest. "Ino, my love, you need to tell me, who hurt you? What do you remember before passing out?"

Ino swallowed, her hand trembled and she almost drops the chalk, she looked at her father's eyes, so soft for her and yet, so cautious, what should she tell him? Her mind wandered in between memories that brought pain and confusion but in the end, she settled for one that, she knew, was the least compromising.

I killed Suna ninja.

Inoichi looked at the writing on the blackboard and pursed his lips, he took a step back and scratched the skin under his lips. "Oh Ino…" he whispered, and looked at her, "I have lost you now."

Water drops fell relentlessly on the grass and started their decedent journey to the roots, the constant flow of water formed pools around the places where the ground could drink no longer, rain had yet to stop.

His hand found a tree that he used to keep himself balanced on the slippery branch, rain had made a wonderful work in delaying them, its texture was rough and cold, bindweed had found its way around the cortex like choking the life out of it.

His Sharingan pulsated around the forest, he used his free hand to signal a full stop and his partner halted his jumping, around some places ahead lingered –still- chakra residues that the rain had yet to wash. Their owners could be close to them, hiding in the rain.

He blinked and his eyes returned to their original color, there was no noise that was not engulfed by the sound of the rain cascading down on them, he needed some rest after using his doujutsu for hours, years of service had taken its toll on him and he was far away from his prime.

Turning around he raised an eyebrow and his partner nodded. Slowly, he approached him while watching the branch where now, both stood. It seemed to hold them momentarily. Suddenly, his palm was on his forehead, his skin was cold, wet, and rough against his, he narrowed his eyes at the contact, distaste clung to his face.

'What is it, Fugaku'

Inoichi Yamanaka's thoughts rumbled on his brain as if he had just spoken, even surrounded by nothing but the storm, his voice was as clear as if he had just whispered it on his hear.

'There're residual chakra signatures ahead, the rain washed most of them and, therefore, I can't tell if there're recent or not.'

He saw Inoichi bite his upper lip and glanced past him, never dropping his hand from their mental connection, Fugaku thought the action to be foolish, what could the Yamanaka clan leader see that his Sharingan couldn't?

'I could try to sense them.'

'With the rain? Useless. Besides, with the weather and how long we have been on the move, you can't have a better range with your sensing than me with my Sharingan. Let's retreat for now.'

With swift motions Inoichi dropped his hand and jumped back, moving in between branches with practiced ease, Fugaku watched him go and halted his departure enough time to glance back again, turn his Sharingan on and scan the area once more. It will not do, their infiltration will have to wait.

Rain still plastered his clothes to his skin in torturous continuity, the leaves of the tree they hid on provided no appease. His back rested on the trunk of the tree, his legs were stretched on the branch he had sat on. Silence passed in between them, Inoichi was in front of him, his feet dangled in the air, he could see the skin of his fingers wrinkled. It couldn't be a comfortable position, cold shook their bones.

Around them was no one, Inoichi allowed his eyesight to rest by using his sensing, but it will be a comfort short-lived, they couldn't rely on a technique easy to fool.

"Two weeks tomorrow." Inoichi broke their mutual quietness, water falling down of his chin, his hair glued to his face.

Fugaku was tempted to give no further recognition than an annoyed glance, but Inoichi was not looking at him, his eyes were closed while his hands performed the seal necessary to sense.

"Missions like these tend to go long," Fugaku replied neutrally, "you should know."

Inoichi opened his eyes then but otherwise didn't move further, he maintained the same pose, his eyes fixed in the forest around them, never glancing at Fugaku's way.

"That's the root of the problem, isn't it?"

For a moment, the sound of the storm was enough to wash away from his ears Inoichi's voice, he spoke in such a disinterest manner, in such an uncaring tone that if not for the otherwise silent nature of their relationship, Fugaku would have ignored it completely.

"What did you say?"

Inoichi did not reply his question nor did he speak further, Fugaku swallowed his discomfort and shook his head to regain composure. The cold and dampness started to affect his reasoning, it seemed, so he decided not to pursue that line of thought.

Mercenaries were not the type of mission Fugaku liked, using his natural talents to track down a group of people slightly more competent than common burglars felt degrading. He was the head of his clan, the leader of a mighty police force –he gritted his teeth at the thought-, not the babysitter of a human lie detector.

Finding their camp took them almost two weeks, for all that they lacked in finesse, they seemed to compensate with adamancy not to get caught. His Sharingan provided them with information of their movements inside their chosen cave to hide, and after three days of studying them as to get a slight picture of their techniques, both Konoha ninja set their plan in motion.

Inoichi was a great liar, great enough for the savages to eat his character up while Fugaku watched him over from the shadows, none of them was a sensor, Inoichi had said, and they used that fact to their advantage. Fugaku saw Inoichi kick a trinket away from him from a pile their leader had been offering to sell them, and while that seemed a stupid thing to do because it tensed the atmosphere, it did –eventually- paid off, the mercenaries were offering their best material now.

When the scroll came up and with Inoichi's imperceptible signal, Fugaku moved, casting genjutsu with his eyes was a child's play, moving around their camp, jumping above the bonfire and disposing of them like flies, overall, effortless. The surprise effect had a lot to do with the easiness. Inoichi depleted their leader of information that might be of use and they left as quickly as they came. In a few hours, all of them will wake, none of them with the knowledge of what had happened.

"Hokage-sama will be pleased," Inoichi grasped out of his vocal cords, his knuckles playing with the end of the scroll, his eyes reading the document with a merely contained curiosity.

The fire in front of them burned with low intensity, the wood broke when the heat eat up its resistances. Around them, the faint smell of humidity had vanished, allowed them space to breathe. Fugaku looked at the way Inoichi's lashes cast a noticeable shadow on the corner of his eyes, making it look like a wrinkle, "I take it that's it was what we were looking for, then."

"Kiri's report about survivors of Yogura's regime." Inoichi nodded. "I bet there's an entire portion of militia trying to get this back. I fear for those who allowed it to be stolen by such pathetic group."

"Is Hokage-sama trying to use it as leverage during negotiations?" Fugaku wondered, not expecting an answer from the man who worked (and led) Konoha's most important information cell.

For a moment Inoichi did not speak, he folded the scroll carefully and gently put it on his internal vest pocket, apparently deciding that further security wasn't necessary. "Either that or he will try to track the survivors and make a deal with them." He said, and took out a flask from his pouch, "most of the information is sealed, I sensed chakra tampering with the scroll, so that's a task for the sealing team. Ours is done."

Fugaku noticed the way Inoichi didn't ask him to check on the scroll they have stolen, everyone knew that the Sharingan was superior when it came to see the design of a sealing technique that was made of chakra alone and not chakra-enhanced-ink, but if the T&I leader wanted him nowhere near the scroll, then it was fine (not fine, but what good will do to think of it) by him.

"If you say so," Fugaku said and looked elsewhere.

"Funny," Inoichi kept speaking, as if his rudeness hadn't ended their conversation, "to think I haven't been on a mission for so long. I asked for less of them when Ino was born. They gave me none until now."

Fugaku barely contained his desire to roll his eyes, was Inoichi sulking to him of all people? He had to be on a mission with him for more than three weeks, Sasuke's first birthday came and went while he stood under the rain to steal a scroll from a group of nothing but burglars, was he crying over it?

"Someone wanted me out I reckon," Inoichi laughed and took a sip from his flask, his lips licking the drop that made it past his lips, Fugaku didn't find the joke funny.

But he should have laughed because, in the end, it was. Truths are always funnier than lies, aren't they?

Somebody did want him out.