What's left unspoken

It was a storm followed by warm breezes, the heat of the ambiance gave birth to bluish-gray clouds that lightning bolts crossed through, the pouring did little to alleviate the heaviness that hung in the air. Ino still shivered from the drops caressing her skin, but she did not return to her quarters, keeping her eyes focused on the road beyond the land's limits, looking for the faintest of shadows.

Howard had not spoken to her about her behavior, perhaps Yua had spared her the humiliation or merely kept the information to obtain a future benefit –it wouldn't do to dwell on the possibilities, the reason she came arrived today –or so she hoped, the rain fell over Kaze no Kuni diligently, giving no space to recover. Ino absentmindedly reached for the nearest flower and pinched a leaf with her fingers, pursing her lips at the state of the plant –the water, essence of its life, will soon kill it.

In her chakra net, raindrops disturbed its calmness, sensing always weakened during storms, it couldn't be helped when water cleaned surrounding chakra signatures, yet it was better to have a weak sense of her surroundings than having none –she felt the way a rose withered, a shame.

"They won't come," Howard's voice came from her back, when she turned he was under an umbrella held by Botan –who was drenched. "I have been informed."

"How?" Ino's eyebrows rose before facing him fully, frustration managing to tint her voice. She hadn't sense any animal arriving –least of all a messenger.

Howard pushed his glasses up, preventing them to reach the tip of his nose, the sleeve of his blue haori down to his elbow. "So things do get past you," he said, adding no further. When he turned, Botan almost missed him –a drop of water fell from the umbrella to Howard's shoulder, the entrepreneur paused and glanced at it, the drop was absorbed by the cloth, then, he watched Botan over his glasses, and the man swallowed.

"I apologize Howard-sama," he said. It was the first time Ino heard him speak, and it was an apology.

"Make sure not to do it again," Howard said and started walking, Botan followed, Ino saw the servant's hand trembling.

When they disappeared out of sight, Ino breathed again and gently moved her net once more –like she has done these past days, and again, she found nothing –no new signature, no new figure lurking around. The lack of proofs diminished the answers to none but two, one put her at hospital's doors to be treated, dismantling her from her heritage and nature, the other one sank her into despair: what kind of leader abandoned one of their own?

Yet, she knew not where to start, she pressed her palms to her brow, shivering once more –her kimono was flush against her skin, goosebumps over her paleness. She bit her upper lip and drew blood, Ino pressed both lips together and spread her essence through the cracks. Her panic subdued at the taste of pain.

Inside her, her spirit wandered around her mind, a white figure looking through the vast ocean –Inoichi had been shocked when learning her landscape was an endless sea, she knew by the way he still looked around as if expecting an island to appear suddenly. Ino created it when first realizing her mother did not love her and cemented it after Sakura left her –feeling disposable for the very first time, but never the last. She did not confide her reasoning on him, she didn't want to make him think he wasn't enough.

"This is… interesting," he had said, his voice echoing through space.

"Is it bad?" She asked, looking up and grasping Inoichi's hand harder, her toes digging through the surface of the water.

Inoichi had smiled at her, it was genuine, "I was just… no, of course it isn't bad… it's just… this isn't much like you."

Ino glanced at the emptiness then and was quiet for a moment, "I think it is." She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips.

"Well," Inochi smiled again, and moved his gaze in the same manner Ino did, watching the desolation of his daughter's mind, "let's hope it changes."

(It hadn't. Nothing had disturbed its emptiness).

But Ino did not mind the ocean, as much as it worried Inoichi, it kept safe what was precious: an empty surface concealing a full depth. Whenever she wanted a memory, she simply touched the water with the tip of her fingers and a pearl will rise towards her, it kept a neat order in her mind that her own life lacked.

Now, the pearl that floated in front of her was of a yellowish shining color, she gently grabbed it and kissed it, pressing it gently on her lips and hearing it whisper its secrets: there it was, the Music Box –playing the music gently for her baby self. Ino allowed the remembrance to wash over her and when she opened her eyes to the real world, she saw Howard watching her from one of the windows before he closed the curtains.

("You never called for me.")

Shikamaru landed softly on the grass and tapped each sandal twice against the floor, threads of grass tickling his toes. Asuma was beside him, crouching to put out his cigarette against the dirt, his knees cracked, Shikamaru made a face of distress at the sound, but Asuma continued as if it was nothing –he wasn't a young man anymore, and he possessed scars that ran deep in his skin.

Shikamaru was still young, however, age sixteen without scars deep enough for him not to recover from –yet the weight on his shoulders was becoming a little too unbearable to handle, he once asked Asuma if a war was close, and his mentor simply said,

"There's always one going on. You'll find it eventually."

"I don't want to find it."

Asuma had laughed, and that had been the end of it.

Chöji was there waiting for him, half of his body already inside the restaurant, Asuma clapped him on the back and Shikamaru squeezed his shoulder, smiling tightly, watching his knuckles against Chöji's shirt. "How are you feeling?" Was Chöji's welcoming words, while he forced him into a hug. Shikamaru complied despite Asuma's teasing smile.

He had written him while on the mission, a quick letter to tell him about his new developments: he had killed –squeezed the life of a poor bastard with his own shadow, he wasn't proud of it, he wasn't broken either; yet, he envied Chöji's clean record, it wasn't often that a man found himself with his hands still pristine. He supposed he should consider himself lucky, after three years of being chünin –soon to be jönin, he just had met the harsh part of being a shinobi, until then, he had merely witnessed the slaughter, never taking part in it. Perhaps watching blood dripping from lifeless bodies had hardened his resolve.

"Like I want to eat a horse," he offered, Chöji smiled and dropped his hold on him, this was the only thing he will say about the subject –he was expecting to understand more about Ino's rupture once he shared hands as murderous as hers, but life was as unkind to him as it always has been, and the realization that he felt nothing and was relieved for it made him reach conclusion: he was born broken while she was forced to shatter. "Where is Ino?"

"Out on a mission," Chöji replied quickly –sitting and waving a hand to the waitress, Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, he knew both Chöji and the girl had kissed before, he considered asking him about her. "A couple of weeks long mission."

Asuma hummed, "good for her." He said, scratching his beard. They had just returned and Shikamaru knew how desperate he was to go home and do whatever, but Chöji was to leave the next day on a mission of his own with Chöza, and pass on an opportunity to be together was something frowned upon in shinobi culture. Shikamaru crossed his arms and pinched his skin not to think about it.

"Hopefully she'll be good and get the promotion she wants," Chöji said, combing his hair with his fingers, and smiling gently at the waitress that blushed at his softness –Shikamaru frowned, saw Asuma nod in agreement. "Maybe then her Council will stop giving her a hard time, she didn't tell me much but she was upset about them—"

("Why would I? There was nothing you could do to make him stay.")

Ino had just almost died.

And then Sasuke just… left.

He hadn't thought of her at first, a second spent on her seemed a waste of precious seconds they couldn't afford losing, when Tsunade told him to bring back Sasuke and made him take Naruto with him only Chöji's name was able to reach his mind. It wasn't until he was fighting the woman with the flute –Tayuya, that he wondered what Ino would feel if he died. Would she cry for him or for her precious Sasuke-kun? The thought, so old now that it made no sense for him to react to it, made him grit his teeth.

And he had killed now, he had used his secret technique to cut off a person's air intake, and he didn't even think about it until the body plummeted to the ground without a heartbeat, Asuma even offered him a cigarette for his troubles, yet he declined. A life had been ended, there was no reason to start to take another one (his own) as well.

Killing, he thought, was a better word than murdering –he liked to think that the Hitai Ate hidden in between the robes of the dead man allowed him to fall inside the first category, murdering meant that the other one was a victim –innocent, he could handle the killing yet couldn't handle the murder. It made no logical sense, but Shikamaru had made his peace with the lack of logic in his life.

"-okay?"

Shikamaru winced when Asuma punched him softly in the arm, he was able to notice Chöji's concerned expression, how he looked back and forth in between him and Asuma, "what? Sorry I was just… thinking."

(You don't know that, Sasuke-")

Chöji narrowed his eyes, "thinking what?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, and then –because he couldn't help himself, "are you sure you're okay?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, "of course I'm okay Chöji, so just drop it okay?" Chöji bit his lips, "and I was thinking about this mission Ino was sent to, do you know anything about it?"

"You and I know that you're not really invested in Ino's mission."

"Oh, come on-" Chöji didn't usually start any argument, particularly with Shikamaru –he just possessed such a calm nature that not many things were able to disturb it, Shikamaru and Ino were capable just once to shake Chöji's foundations and it almost cost them his life. The remembrance of that moment was what in the end forced them to be closer to each other.

Chöji leaned forward, his expression serious, he invaded Shikamaru's space in a way that made him move backward and press his back on the seat, "don't lie to me Shikamaru, you know how much I hate it when you-"

"-boys stop," Asuma interrupted, putting his hand in Chöji's shoulder and forcing him back, Chöji looked slightly pained at his teacher's reaction, "don't force him into a conversation he doesn't want to have, Chöji-" he admonished "-and I don't know about Shikamaru, but I do want to know about Ino's mission."

Chöji huffed and rested his elbows on the table, throwing a last look at Shikamaru that promised more to come, "I said everything I knew already, it isn't my fault that Shikamaru wasn't paying attention."

Asuma sighed, "Chöji…"

"All I know is that it has to do with her clan-specific techniques."

Shikamaru swallowed and glanced at the waitress –perhaps if she came to the table, Chöji would be distracted enough not to try to push the subject again. He glanced in her direction and saw her move around the vapor coming out of the kitchen, cheeks and the tip of her nose pink, her brown eyes saw him gazing at her and she smiled gently –Shikamaru thought Chöji to be a lucky man to be kissing such a pretty and well-mannered girl.

("He didn't want you, Ino, just fucking get over it—")

The return to home was quiet, Chöji was beside him kicking the path's stones and filling the silence with the sound of his sandals –Asuma had left them to their own devices, as a mentor, he knew they were demons they both needed to free in order to embrace their friendship; as a commander, he was aware that not spoken issues will affect their teamwork, so there was no reason to keep mending in between them. As long as he didn't have to witness it, Asuma didn't care enough.

Chöji sighed and scratched his neck –or maybe just posed his hand on it, Shikamaru saw the movement through his friend's shadow and suddenly thought 'I could make it strangle him', and felt his lungs run out of air. He stopped –because why not, if he couldn't trust Chöji he might as well be dead already. Chöji paused just a couple of steps after him and turned, his expression was relaxed at first –but something in his eyes, brown and big and shinning made Shikamaru feel exhausted, so he rested his hands on his knees, trying to breathe more evenly, suddenly his throat had closed.

Chöji's figure loomed above him –he had been taller than Shikamaru since puberty, it wasn't surprising giving his clan's dependence on physique, but Shikamaru couldn't help but being a little jealous, men's pride, or something of sorts. "Shikamaru?" Worry shaded his voice, but instead of reassurance it only made Shikamaru feel worse.

I thought about how easy would be for me to kill you was what he choked on, swallowing the bile down alongside enough air to make his lungs collapse –yet it was as if no oxygen made it to his chest, so he took another intake, he didn't realize he was crying until he saw small drops of water against the road. Chöji was slowly and carefully caressing his back, not saying a word –after Ino he became even better at giving comfort, no wonder team ten depended on him so irrevocably. He was broken –honest to spirits broken, to think about –to even phantom that he could –Chöji was so precious and yet… and yet he knew that this was exactly what made him a good candidate for promotion, because he was able to fight for his best friend and against him should he have to. Fuck. He had never understood Naruto's predicament so much until now. He dug his nails on his knees to ground himself and tilted his head backward to prevent more tears from falling, hoping they'll get absorbed inside his body once more.

Chöji's hand still lingered in his lower back, reluctant to let go and Shikamaru took a step back, making it press harder against him, seeking for comfort like a child, "I just don't want you to crumble," Chöji whispered, stepping closer and forcing Shikamaru's forehead on his shoulder, "but I should have never tried to force you to speak about it."

"Please don't—" he whispered, trying to stop the apology that his friend was surely trying to concoct, his voice muffled by Chöji's clothes. Shikamaru couldn't tell him –couldn't possibly confide the actual reason of his predicament, he couldn't care less for the man already buried five feet under, yet it was as good of a scapegoat as any other. "Thank you, Chöji." He said, rubbing his teary eyes against his friend's collarbone before stepping back, he didn't smile –there was no point in concealing already displayed emotions.

Chöji's eyebrows drew closer, his mouth in a thin line, "you know you can tell me anything, right? It won't bother me."

Shikamaru sighed, he knew –they both did. Their friendship felt as old as past lives so words were, most of the time, unnecessary. The fact that Chöji reminded him of such an old proverb of their relationship meant that he didn't think Shikamaru was himself anymore. "I know," he whispered and resumed his walking, Chöji followed –he thought of asking about the waitress at the barbeque place, but it would drop for what it was, a decoy, and Shikamaru refused to allow Chöji to think of his life as that.

"I'm compromised," he said. He didn't bother knocking, his father had a strange connection with the earth under and around his feet, he lacked sensing skills –yet, he was perceptive of any disturbance on the ground closest to him, and with the way Shikamaru walked inside the house without bothering taking his sandals off –he was sure the man was expecting the disruption. At least, Shikamaru thought, he had given him seconds of notice.

Yet Shikaku had not interrupted his duties, his eyes raised above the scroll on his hands to glance at his heir without concealing his boredom. It was a lucky thing that Shikaku had decided to skip the office and work from home, as if the Spirits hadn't known how to make this conversation happen otherwise –it was either his fortune or their lack of imagination, Shikamaru was thankful regardless.

Shikaku's eyes dropped to the scroll again before laying it on the desk, one of his arms stretching and fingers wrapping the pen in the inkwell, he tapped it gently against the surface before crossing some of the writing. His father sighed, and Shikamaru hated him for it: he knew what he meant, he was always a step ahead –yet, he decided Shikamaru needed no warning on future crisis, he allowed his son to go through it all without any sense of direction. "We all are, in a way-" he said, resting his cheek on his knuckles, eyes still glued to his task, "friendship often—"

"I'm in love with Ino."

Oh.

Oh.

He just said that –he didn't even know the extent of his feelings… Shikamaru closed his mouth and was left speechless by his own admission, focusing his gaze on Shikaku's hand, he saw the way it paused its movements suddenly, how the veins popped out like wanting to jump out of the skin.

His father exhaled through his mouth, and gently placed the pen down. A single drop of ink fell to the floor –dying unnoticed by the clan head, at least now Shikamaru was able to have Shikaku's undivided attention. "I know."

There was silence around them, an invisible veil covering them and sheltering them from outside forces that threatened the intimacy of this moment, Shikamaru wished his body didn't feel as ethereal as it did. There were so many questions, so many emotions passing through –he felt suddenly dizzy, how long had he known? Was it wrong to feel like this? Why he was so conflicted about caring for her and not being able to stop regardless? Yet, in the shock, Shikamaru was able to ask just one thing, the most important; "then why didn't you end it?" How much silence was he willing to go through before breaking? Why allowing this to evolve if it was destined to burn?

Shikaku never asked for forgiveness.

But, in the softness of his voice, there was an apology enveloped around his vocal cords. "I needed to ensure your loyalty."

"Ah." And in the break of truthfulness, it was everything he was able to say –this man had seen the path he was taking, perhaps from the very beginning, and had allowed him to move forward for the sake of union –but not the kind that Shikamaru will crave: to ensure obedience above everything else.

"If I could kill her to lift your burden I would," he admitted, looking guilty for talking in such manner of the girl he used to play with when she was a toddler, "but you wouldn't let me would you?"

"No." He replied, the immediateness of the answer colliding with the anger bubbling to the surface of his tongue.

Shikaku blinked and nodded once as if that was the only right answer. Shikamaru realized he hated this man –this shinobi. "Would you kill me for her?" He then asked, and Shikamaru was taken aback because one second he was speaking with his leader, his commander, and the next his father materialized.

It was a dance in between orders and soft laughter, the man willing to sacrifice his son's sanity and the one who taught him to play Shögi. "I don't know," he replied truthfully and glanced at the floor in shame and sudden sadness.

Shikaku didn't seem content, he pressed harder where it bleeds, "would you kill Chöji for her?"

Shikamaru swallowed and felt the ghost of Chöji's embrace in his back, "I don't know." He paused, "but he wouldn't let me doubt it." He added because it was true –Chöji would never choose himself over any of them, it made his early thought burn deeper in the pit of his stomach, compacting both shame and self-loathing.

"Sons shouldn't carry the burdens of their fathers," Shikaku breathed, his eyes closing gently. He pressed the tip of his fingers to his lips, and Shikamaru was able –just for a second, to see the unspoken truth.

Shikamaru opened his eyes widely, "you…"

His father smiled, lightly, stressfully, it wasn't a soft stretch of lips nor a fake one, it simply existed as a chaotic truth –it held so much sadness Shikamaru could see himself reflected in that reality: he was to grow to become a man with an equal burden. "Him above all else?" He asked, and it shouldn't surprise him that his father's marriage and his own existence were meanings to an end, each and every one of those conforming Konoha's lines shared the same excruciating reason to be.

"Never above you-" Shikaku replied, "but I couldn't bear to think of both of you so far apart." That's why I never stopped you, went unspoken –Shikaku saw an opportunity and allowed a reality where both entities he loved the most coexisted, shattering Shikamaru's heart in the process.

"Have you ever learned to care for her at least?" He wasn't' speaking about Ino anymore –she had been the detonator of a bomb already in existence, had he never cared for her this would still be the outcome.

"There's no woman I have ever loved more." His father's face softened, "still." He reassured, and Shikamaru exhaled a shallow breath that alleviated nothing of his sadness.

"Good." He said and watched his father nod again, they stayed in their silent veil for a few more blinks before Shikaku decided this was all his son would get and glanced at the scroll again to resume his early task –Shikamaru wondered if Shikaku had ever told Inoichi, but thinking about it just made his insides twist with repulsion, either because it was another man or because he was a child loyal to his mother, perhaps both.

He decided that he could live with that doubt hanging above him, he minded to uncover no more truths, there had been enough for him to discover in a swept of dawn to the next morning –he suspected calmness has departed his life altogether.

He just wished he could be able to stop knowing.

A/N: Sometimes I start a chapter without knowing where the writing will take me, this is one of those times. I'm both surprised, slightly mad at me not to be able to keep a straight line with Ino's turmoil -yet pleased with Shikaku's sudden (and frankly, unplanned to be disclosed this early) situation.