Union

It's in the span of seconds that she settles and whatever remained dies. It's there, in the space where the water drops fall and echoes through the empty halls, the sound reaching her through the crack of the door and with her soul as her sole companion, that her panic becomes one with her spirit, and Ino understands that whoever she was before will never be again. Fear entwines and merges with her soul, strings of her spirit forever tainted with apprehension so much so that it becomes her new reality, and in doing so, she tames it, embraces it, becomes used to it, and thrives.

Ino thought it to be morning, tricked her mind to embrace her new reality as to make it far more bearable, imagining the sun yawning awake while emerging from the horizon. She blinked, felt the weight of her eyelashes, and sighed her exhaustion, scratching her dry tears off of her cheeks, dirt had collected itself under her fingernails, and it only made the itching worse.

Breathing only brought pain to her chest and the remembrance of past nightmares, a figure that lurked at the corner of her mind and that set everything on fire, red gleaming eyes luring her to join the roast. It was a coincidence, she decided, for thinking that their destinies were somehow intertwined was a breeze of despair.

Natsuo, her mind provided alongside the image of Ino –not months ago, gently caressing his orange locks while he wept. He was crying a disappearance, for there was no body to bury, a yellow chrysanthemum took his father's place on the ground and the incense burned at each side of the stone, the smoke reaching Ino's eyes that watered in discomfort. They had thought it was sympathy and concern what provoked the single tear that fell, and Ino did nothing to dispute the notion, a political move where her humanity used to be; and still, Ino comforted the child –out of guilt, out of love, Ino didn't think they were much different from each other.

She thought about his small frame, about his fragile body that will see a few more summers before entering a world that will eat him whole, he was weak –Ino knew from the way he lost his entire world and decided to fall alongside it, his chakra pool small, the council would never approve him to learn the secret technique.

A shame that she hadn't hugged him when she could.

And yet, weak and sick and mourning, his father loved -loves him deeply; the memory of his beloved child that morphed onto his last barrier of defense, a Guardian. It was poetic, truly, the last image a dying father concocted and it was of his beloved boy.

Knowledge, such a powerful thing, it was mostly out of luck that she knew the muse of the canvas, but there's no shame in lucky achievements, Ino made peace with the fact that it will always be a part of her life during her first chünin exams –fortune was either good or bad, it had been a blessing to know Natsuo, to meet the monster that roamed the halls of her prison… not so much.

In the distance, the sound of a cough rumbled through the stones and danced in between the flames of the single torch that picked through the crack, Ino has heard it at least six times since waking, each time worse than the last one. So there, in between the echoes of the steps the monster took towards her confinement, she kissed goodbye to whatever trace of her lingered, hugged the departure of those she loved and became what the beast wanted.

Ino swore to rebuild herself anew every time he brought her down, which will be forever and with every breath he took, with every glance at her direction; she wasn't strong enough to not break, but her stubbornness to survive compensated her failures.

She acknowledge his presence with a gulp, his silhouette wonderfully hanging from the open frame, cold air passed through her lips and with it part of her soul, and she stood to obey. He cocked his head to the side, and left the door open before disappearing, a shadow that guided her to the turmoil.

Once again, behind her, Yokai stood with his chest against her back, hot breath tickling her neck and his energy morphing to something more monstrous; she tensed when her spirit came crashing down and pooled by her feet, but with a quick look at her toes she forced it up again to wear it as a veil. Crack, and rebuild, crack and rebuild and repeat to infinity, just in the slight hope that there was an opening.

With a new Saiko Denshin coming out of her fingertips she forced her way in, and the world before her melted while mirrors emerged from the ground in perfect form only to break –the remains of a mind that was far gone. Far beyond saving.

Vibrations and mirrors cracking, the sound of destruction echoing through the maze, "I told you not to come back."

"Natsuo," she called –her voice was a mix of fear and hopefulness, feelings so interlaced that there'll never be one without the other.

The figure formed itself in front of her, orange hair and gray eyes like his father's, his eyes were narrowed and his frame small, "how do you know that name?" Suspicions tinted his words, Ino could feel his skepticism climbing through her bones.

"He's safe," she assured –for this was not really the boy but his father's love reflected, shall she say the wrong thing, the man will collapse the skeleton of his landscape and take her with him, "in Konoha. Safe."

Echoes of the outside world rumbled through the space, the clear of a throat, coughing, Ino knew her body was shaking where Itachi was pressed against her.

The figure looked at her as if he wanted to murder her on the spot, it became translucent –a rain of color against the mirrors and then returned to its normal consistency, it took more than a few gulps of waiting, and Ino entertained the possibility of him not believing her and what it would mean to her survival. Could she be gone before he went down? What difference would it make to die here or outside? At least here, she'll fall alongside someone who shared her same bad luck, outside, the monster will take her life for failing. "Which means, we are not."

His response take the air out of her lungs, and she pursed her lips while trembling, her eyes itched with sadness, yet she forced the tears to return to the source without falling, "no. We're not."

It was hard to see a man reflecting his sadness through the eyes of a small boy countenance, Natsuo looked down and his mouth went downwards, he glanced at his hands as if afraid of not seeing them again. "How do I know you're not one of her tricks?"

"Do I feel ethereal?" She asked, "we're inside your mind."

"It could still be a genjutsu," he defended, his eyebrows knitting together. "This could be a fake scenario."

"Not of a place Yua has never seen."

"Yua?" He asked, Ino bit her upper lip, "is that the woman's name? How do you know? Are you with her?"

"Natsuo," Ino's voice was shaking, desperation crept up through her spine when seeing his resolve morphing to suicide, "Yua is the woman that lured us here, she's the one who -she's one of the responsible for this. Try to think, please, did you tell her in any of her genjutsu how your landscape looked like?"-

His eyebrows did not part ways, but his eyes looked down, the mirror floor reflected back a boy not six years old quite yet, with an adult expression and older concerns, "I can't remember if I did." He said, finally, the vibrations so subtle that it passed as a whisper. Then he glanced up, more conviction in his tone, "Maybe I didn't, maybe this isn't even my true landscape and she's making me believe it is," he paused, and Ino couldn't dispute his theory other than with begging, she felt her resolve to weaken, yet he spoke again, "But I didn't tell her that name."

So sure he was that Ino believed him and clutched to that safe spot with her teeth, "Natsuo…" she breathed out, and the small boy pursed his lips.

"I truly love that name," he cocked his head to the side and looked to the mirror beyond her, it reflected most of the boy's countenance but it cracked down the middle, morphing his body to something cartoonish. "Is he truly safe?"

"He is," she gulped, "he's a really kind boy." Natsuo –his father, smiled so gently it was like summer breeze against sweaty nape, the meaning of his name never more present than at this moment; and Ino hated herself for what she was about to do, "I want to bring us back," spurious hope was something out of a ghost story, yet if the man wasn't aware of his own condition –it was the only thing she could do to trick him to tell his truths, if he knew everything was lost, he'll have nothing to hold onto, and will surely leave and take her life with him.

The echoes returned, more coughing against her ear, Ino brought a hand to it but felt nothing –the real she was separated from her projection.

"Back?" The boy asked like he heard nothing, his small hands tightening on the collar of his kimono. Wasn't he able to notice the reverberations of Itachi's presence?

She nodded, "we're prisoners, they have you under heavy sedatives so you can't wake up." The lie came so easy out of her lips, so fast, she had been brewing her speech on the solitude of her cell, for he couldn't be saved, but she could. "I was forced to enter your mind to look for something." Half-truths or half-lies, it didn't matter.

Natsuo narrowed his eyes again, "something?"

"I don't know what." She confessed, "maybe if you show me around I could–"

"No." He shook his head, he was suddenly so calm when everything on Ino was on edge –hope brought fear and fear brought hope. "I don't think I will."

"Natsuo, for Spirits above—"

"You don't know my name, do you?" His smile turned wicked, he had completed a puzzle she didn't know he was trying to solve, "you liar, how did you know about Natsuo? Tell me! Why would I trust a woman that doesn't know my real name! You are truly—"

Cold minds were better under pressure, but Ino had no time to resolve this step by step, "my name is Ino Yamanaka," she rambled, "I am the only daughter of Inoichi Yamanaka and Himari Yamanaka, future clan head of our family, I'm part of the Ino-Shika-Chö new unit under the command of Sarutobi Asuma and I held your boy while he wept because you weren't there and we had to bury a chrysanthemum in your stead."

Her voice broke under the agony. In the silence that was born after her outburst and that settled in between the infinite distance that kept them apart, she saw his figure vanishing and returning; purple, red, and yellow hues reflecting in the mirrors before coming back to birth his chosen Guardian. The figure's face was of sorrow and despair, of agony and sickness, Ino saw the chrysanthemum, saw the real Natsuo around the smoke of the incense, and felt his soft hair against her fingers, her nails dug on her palms.

"You weren't supposed to know about Himari," was what he said, his voice small, he truly sounded like his child. Ino was sure that he not bringing up the flower and the funeral was on purpose. "Inoichi forbade us to tell you. She wasn't even written on the hospital's records."

Ino sighed, for there was nothing better to do, "you look like her." She said, wandering in this territory that she was never able to explore before, "the hair at least. Not your eyes."

Natsuo took a step towards her, and Ino forced herself not to move, "I'm her cousin, it runs in the family," he cocked his head to the side, "my brother and nephew they did look… exactly like her…" he pursed his lips as if repenting his words. "You do look like Inoichi the most, but your eyes' shape…"

"I know." Ino interrupted, quickly glancing away before her distaste could show, it was childish, but even now at the face of death she resented the woman that gave birth to her only to abandon her with a smile.

Natsuo, surprisingly, smiled kindly. "I wasn't sure if you were truly our heir, as a political figure, everyone can have access to a picture of you." He paused, looked mournful, "to think that you are as trapped as me…"

It was like a lightning bolt stroke her through her scalp, she felt the pressure increase and her eyes almost roll to the back of her skull, a water drop fell from her forehead to her cheek, but when she tried to touch it, her fingers came back dry. Real-life, then. She didn't notice she was screaming until cold hands were on her hips, she glanced down and saw Natsuo's face painted in pale worry.

"Ino-sama," he pursed his lips, "what is it?"

It was hard not to treat him like a true boy, not to crouch and hug the petite frame. Ino had to force herself to kill the reassurance before it went through her mouth and turned to whispers –now it wasn't the time to show mercy, it was the time to found an ally, "the Jutsu –it takes… my chakra, it's so much…"

"Leave. If you stay, it'll kill you –I've seen it happen." He didn't ask why she knew to perform a Jutsu only people inside a specific group were authorized to learn –Ino would have wondered further about it, had it not been for the piercing pain. "Please, don't tell them about Natsuo. I beg you." He sounded as terrified as Ino felt.

"I won't. Ever."

He nodded, "My name is Kosuke." His revelation was made while she dissipated, a small boy's smile on his lips –now that she was blinking out of his mind, she noticed the similarities, Natsuo was truly a mirror of his father's visage, orange hair, and gray eyes –so full of hope.

Ino returned, she was quick to notice the blood coming down her forehead, she felt the creature's fingers against her skin –how he cleaned the crimson trail it left in its wake with his thumb, but she forced her attention on the body displayed on the bed. When she turned to look at him, his eyes black and forgiving, she saw the curiosity in within, the expectancy in his shoulders.

"You're truly vile." She told him, and he leaned towards her, his lips brushing her forehead.

"Well done."

Around corridors of the stone maze he guided her, the fog clouding her eyes and the exhaustion that fed it abated by the pill he put in between her lips –his fingers brushing her teeth; whether it was the supplement that tasted like salt or him, she wasn't eager to find out, taking his truce with enough interest. The pulse on her skull dissipated while her muscles rumbled in acceptance of the new energy provided, it must have been a really powerful one, the kind of Hyōrōgan pills that were tricky to find and incredibly expensive, Ino didn't question much how Itachi was able to take hold of them, concentrating instead on how her body will finally react to taking so many of them as sustenance.

Of course, the devil didn't care of such details –because he wasn't expecting her to live much further. Whatever it takes to keep her whole enough to perform.

A door opened, it looked exactly like the one on her cell, yet she knew it not to be, for they have walked far more than necessary to reach her quarters. When entering, a cold –icy feeling made her stop in her tracks by the door, his presence looming in front of her, his hand displaying what was before her.

A bed of neat, dark sheets –a room that, hasn't been for being encompassed by the ever-present gloom, could even pass as pleasant. She gasped, looking at the devil's eyes (still of soulless black color) with a question mark in her forehead embedded with fear, yet she moved not, it was her panic that allowed no movement. If he mistook it for bravery, it was his own undoing.

She tried not to allow it, but her mind went there anyway, in her head, she was already contemplating the humiliation: to be forced down on a mattress and be stripped of her virtue. Tears made their way through her eyelashes, and she picked them up with her fingers –brushing softly her sadness. Crack, and rebuild anew –forever, a vicious cycle.

He broke the silence when the drops subdued, not a moment before nor after, how cruel he was, allowing her to brew on her torturous imagination. "I shall ask another thing from you." He didn't look particularly uneasy, but his fingers drummed on his thigh enough to make Ino store the image in her mind. "You've noticed the coughs."

Everything was put into place, for there was no other outcome –he was asking her to fix him, to cure him; surely the possibility of her killing him had crossed his mind because it was their reality –now that they were forced to acknowledge each other's presence, there will not be a moment when one of them wouldn't be trying to kill the other.

Ino blinked, thinking that maybe if she moistened her eyes enough, the illusion will fall, surely she hadn't heard right, surely there was a trick or a trap for her to fall into. She danced around her response, perhaps if she replied too soon or too eagerly he will backpedal in his offer, taking away the possibility.

But before she could word her answer, he continued, silky voice lingering in her eardrums, "it's unbecoming of an heir to entertain such stupidity." He turned, deemed her no threat by giving his back to her, and went further inside the room, "you know I won't give you the chance to."

Her swallow was bitter, "what more?" She took no step to follow him, watching him strip off his haori and reveal a pale back and lean figure -Ino was quick to avert her eyes before remembering he deserved no privacy, but she couldn't watch regardless. His fingers drummed again, this time, over the nightstand wood that his body hid from view, "I'll have no chakra enough for both."

The drumming stopped and the silence forced her attention upon him, he was watching her from above his shoulder, his brows close together –it was the most expressive she had seen him, "hence, Hyōrōgan pills." Was his sole response on the matter. "Come." Ino obeyed, heart in her mouth and trembling fingers, "I should not tell you how to do your job, shouldn't I?"

It was, again, his twisted idea of a joke and a degradation –Ino was sure his sense of humor was forever intertwined with malice; she glanced down at her hands and broken nails and Natsuo's weeping image returned, broken down by the loneliness the devil in front of her and his accomplice had brought upon him, Inoichi's own face took Natsuo's place –and Ino could see clearly his mourning over a dead child of which he will have no corpse to bury.

Turquoise glow enveloped her fingers, and she picked up her gaze to look at the perpetrator of infinite anguish, moving to stand behind him; a resolution was on her mind that she was careful not to reflect on her eyes' gleam in case he turned to look, perhaps a shock –a quick attack with scalpel precision, Yua wouldn't be as difficult as the man in front of her, Ino decided not to think of the impossibility of the matter—

"I truly didn't want to waste this on you," he breathed when her hands were a hair's space away from touching his skin –the warmth of her Jutsu awakening goosebumps on his nape; in the span of her eyes widening in shock, he had trapped her left wrist in his right hand while his left dug its nails on her forearm.

There were suddenly figures and drawings of black color that dripped from his blackened fingers and intruded in her own skin, painting themselves on the entirety of her forearm –then the burning came and with it the screaming, for she didn't know what it was but she was sure what it meant, and it was nothing but doom and agony.

He released her just as quickly as he had grabbed her and without his touch, the ache dissipated –yet not the pattern on her skin. A seal. There was no way of mistaking it for something else, "w-what?" Worry made her face tremor.

"It was a gift for me," Itachi explained, "and an insurance from you." His tone of voice was almost the same, but there was a hint of annoyance in between his layers that Ino almost doesn't notice. "I'm sure you're smart enough for the implications."

Ino brought her hand up, it was trembling and blurry –tears fell down towards the pattern; there was always a trick, always a guarantee. Yua wasn't his against Ino, the seal was. She was no expert, but she didn't need to in order to understand its meaning.

If Itachi died –so did she. A medic, forever trapped with their patient.

He cleared his throat as if the revelation hadn't left her shaking, "let's begin now."