Chapter 14

 

The kunai grinded against the whetstone with a soothing scraping sound with each motion.

With every repetition, the edge got a tiny bit more fine.

We were at one of the village's many blacksmiths, The Forge that Ascends to the Heavens—or The Soaring Forge for short— for our second D rank mission, with the intent of us learning proper tool maintenance.

Tools had to be meticulously cared for if you actually wanted your blades to cut, and not break.

The back and forth motion combined with the vibrations that flowed through my hand made for a therapeutic experience. It was calming. Relaxing.

My eyes drooped, just a little.

As my eyes closed, I slipped back to that place. Back to the point where it had flipped. Back to feeling the panic/fear/acceptance of countless many as it reverberated through me. That single moment.

My shoulders shook as my fingers crashed roughly against the slightly damp stone, and it took only a moment for me to reset the blade to the proper angle. Hopefully I wasn't spo—

"—Light pressure I said!"

I sighed. Tool maintenance was too relaxing, which was a problem.

The chief smith, Tamura Sumitani, loomed over me. Watched me like a hawk. He'd taken an interest in me when he noticed that I didn't seem to be affected at all by the sweltering heat of the nearby forges. That interest shifted, however, as I kept falling asleep, which would obviously bring about screw ups. And with each screw up I'd be yelled at, which would definitely jolt me awake.

For some reason, it seemed that I was terrified of the mere notion of falling asleep. Terrified of yet again being there-yet-here. Terrified of what the me-but-not-me would do.

What little unintentional sleep I managed to get came in fits and starts, which wasn't restful.

At all.

So it goes without saying that I was exhausted, in many more ways than one.

I was more than aware that Yamanaka needn't ever fear constructs of the mind; We owned them. We made them ours. That was my family legacy, one that I'd inherited. One I would surely make my own.

But what I'd experienced felt explicitly other. There was no doubt in my mind that what I'd gone through was beyond just the mind. No doubt that it was real.

Very very real.

I couldn't even begin to fathom how to come up with the strange sensations I'd felt. The feeling of the sun's comforting warmth was so much different than the typical flames I'd been accustomed to. So much more.

The very strange emotions that I had trouble categorizing were all so very foreign. So very…

Alien.

I wasn't ignorant to the concept of aliens though. There were legends referring to people living on the moon of all things. Heralds of the fabled Rabbit Goddess. But those… those were just legends. Myths. Fairy Tales. Things old people told children to keep them from misbehaving. This… this was decidedly more real than that.

Things definitely existed on other planets, and I had so many questions.

Were they human? Were they bug people? Were there more of them? Did they have a society? Did they have Chakra? Were they good? Did they even have a concept of good? Did they have a Pure Land of their own? Did they have Gods? Did they have famil—

—I cut myself off with an exhale.

I didn't have answers to any of those questions, and now I never would.

Another point that terrified me was how vast my sensory range was. My very presence spanned a vast distance, farther than my eyes could see. Passing over planets, and great rocks even beyond those.

My current paltry range seemed so insignificant in comparison. So small.

I was just a speck.

If that was what lay at the end of my path… all my complaints meant nothing.

An exasperated huff broke me out of my thoughts, and I resumed my task with gritted teeth.

This wouldn't have been an issue if the task didn't make it so easy for me to drift off.

Somehow, this mission ended up being more rote than our first; The first time around, we'd carried large tiles up walls and set them into place. It was simple strength training, and Chouji and I had no real issue with it.

For every two tiles I lifted, Chouji lifted three. It was surprising at first, seeing the difference in our capabilities brought about by our training. He'd been focused more on strength and physicality, rather than technique.

Shikamaru though, his face was brilliant as he struggled. He'd spent so long trying to figure out better paths, better methods. He'd even tried to get us to set up an overly complicated lever system.

But in the end, simple was best.

Lift the tile, walk up the wall, place it where directed. Rinse, repeat.

Simple.

Of course, he complained every step of the way. Even when he ran out of breath, he complained in his thoughts, where only I could hear.

This task wasn't as simple, but it definitely wasn't as strenuous. I didn't understand most of what the blacksmith had taught us—I knew what grit meant, but he completely lost me when grit became a number— but you didn't have to understand to follow directions.

Angle the blade at the angle it naturally slotted into. Keep the angle consistent. Pressure lightly when you push, and let off when you pull.

Flip it when the blade curves a tiny bit at the pointy end.

Over and over again until it's sharp.

Simple. Simple was good.

It was a simple task, one that gave me free time to think about whatever I pleased. And normally, that'd be great.

The life giving energy from the star flowed into me as warmth dripped—

If only my thoughts weren't the damned problem, that is. Every time my mind slipped, I went back to that experience; It was as if my traitorous brain wanted to replay it over and over. As if it wanted me to see something.

I groaned in frustration; Which of course, the smith standing over me took issue with.

"Lass, you're insulting the craft with your half-assed efforts. Either focus or git."

I glared at the heavyset man with all the menace I could muster, but he wasn't cowed by my gaze. Not one bit. He glared back with a stoic apathy, as if he didn't care one whit if I'd stayed or left.

He probably didn't, to be honest. If I left, he just wouldn't pay us. Simple as that.

With a huff, I broke the stare.

Once again I returned to the task.

Except this time, I tried something new.

Every time I felt my focus slipping, I pressed harder. The deliberate change in pressure helped me refocus. Problem was, my mind was very good at adapting, and I'd quickly get used to the new levels of pressure.

So of course, I went harder and harder.

Naturally, "Damnit!" The knife chipped.

I heard a frustrated grunt to my side, but I could feel the oaf's concern become more pronounced as he carefully yanked the blade from my grasp.

"Take a break," his words represented finality as he turned and left. The brown haired giant's grumbling continued even as he watched over my sweating teammates' precise sharpening efforts.

I exhaled with frustration and set the tools aside. My face found my clammy palms, and I rubbed my lightly burning eyes in frustration.

It was obvious. I couldn't keep going on like this. Only a few days of awful sleep and I could barely operate without being distracted. I had to do something, or my body would do it for me.

I leaned back in my stool, against the wall. As much as I wanted to sleep, even if I'd accepted that I'd just have to take the plunge, I couldn't sleep here. Not in public. There were too many people here; A repeat of that night would be very public, and very not good for anyone involved.

I'll just make some Chamomile tea, and if that didn't work, I'd just ask dad to sedate me.

Speaking of dad, we had a… careful talk about what happened that night. I told him of the dream, and he'd told me about Hinata's experience, but didn't say more. He was… strangely guarded about additional details.

So of course, I pressed. He confessed that he'd been watching the situation for months now, but didn't have anything concrete. He did promise to tell me what he'd discovered when he learned more, though.

So basically, he had a few unsubstantiated guesses, and held them close to his chest.

I could feel a headache forming, so as my head hit the hard wall, I closed my eyes and allowed the tight reins I kept over my focus to loosen.

Just for a little.

Turning my senses off wasn't possible, but I'd grown adept at directing my focus. At just… not looking at everything and everyone. Ignoring it, essentially.

I fell into a trance as I followed the ebbs and flows of the emotional spectrum that I could sense. I quickly noticed that my range was, in fact, a fair fraction smaller than it was before.

I wanted to be happy about it, and treat it like some sort of victory, but I was sure that it was only brought on due to my current exhausted state.

If I had to basically deprive myself of proper sleep for days to enjoy it, was it even worth it at that point?

My fingers draped over my shut eyes, and I rubbed them with force in a painfully weak attempt to reassert control over my focus. To no avail. I was just too tired.

I was too tired to care.

With a drained sigh, I followed the emotional spectrum as it shifted throughout the village like one would view a map, and for the first time in my life, I found it calming. Soothing, even. It helped me prove to myself that I was here.

I was here, in the village. I could feel them. All the people going about their days. The smiths working in with focus, the various merchants running their stores and stalls, the inquisitive would-be shinobi in the Academy. In this moment, I was undoubtedly here and not there.

Emotions stained metaphysical regions as they blurred into each other. It was like the village—or what I could perceive of it—had a set of shifting infections.

The joy one felt passed on—ever so slightly— to everyone they interacted with. I watched as much as I felt as smiles literally brightened up the days of others. Just being a witness was often enough. It spread and spread, and entire regions ended up having a cheery 'imprint' over them.

The opposite was also true, though; The hospital was a particular font of misery, with few motes of determined cheer floating within, braving the torrential waters.

The vigorous unsettling heat that pulsed and thrummed through my body slowly receded into a comforting warmth as I found my calm. With a yawn, the tense muscles in my cheeks loosened; It was as if I uncoiled and unravelled at my very seams.

Too comforting, it seemed.

My eyes stayed shut.

 

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I wasn't embarrassed about falling asleep at all—not even a little— and luckily, nothing happened. My team understood and managed to pick up the slack on their end.

I didn't feel well rested—I needed a lot more than just a scant two hours for that— but it was enough for me to function until I got home.

We sat on a wooden bench near the entrance, and I leaned against Chouji as we ate; A simple light sandwich—I wasn't sure when I started counting this many boiled eggs as light— with eggs and dried meat for myself, an actually simple sandwich for Shikamaru, and I felt myself salivate as I looked on in envy at Chouji's hearty portions of grilled meats. Pork, chicken, and a large portion of rice.

I leaned further towards the delicious scent, which meant I pushed more and more bodily against Chouji. He didn't seem to mind, but he definitely didn't entertain the notion of sharing.

Stingy.

I felt Shikamaru war with himself all morning to say something as I shoveled egg after egg into my mouth.

I closed my eyes as I ate, and the strong smoky smell of meat filled my nose and heated my cheeks. The fragrance must have had something special about it, because I could've sworn that my eggs tasted faintly of meaty barbecue sauce. I didn't mind though. My tongue was overjoyed with the bountiful flavours my lunch seemed to take on. My stomach was also pleased, but yearned for more. The more I ate, the farther and farther I drifted away from being satisfied.

Luckily for my figure's sake, Shikamaru decided to get over himself and take the plunge.

"Never said it earlier, but you really look like shit today, Ino," he ground out in a bored, almost apathetic tone, that belied the jitters that quaked beneath his fingertips.

"Mhmm, just tired. Haven't slept much," I stared at my very empty hands as I spoke.

Despair.

The hunger became more gnawing.

Chouji's worry spiked as he asked, "How come?"

"Bad dreams and such," I stared at a single lonely piece of chicken at the edges of Chouji's lunch as I breathed in its scent, and shrugged with a faux disinterested drawl, "Just some more trauma for the ever growing pile."

Chouji paused in eating his meal—something I'd literally never seen him do— and worry dripped from him like an old worn tap.

"Ah, don't worry so much Chouji, I'm fine. Or, I will be fine. Whichever," I leaned further into him, draping myself over his shoulder. The more I looked at that leg of chicken, the more addled my mind felt.

I felt hyper focused on it, and everything else bled away to the background.

Somehow, the aforementioned piece of chicken found its way to my mouth, much to Chouji's horror and dismay.

Shikamaru looked around in shock.

Luckily for me, as Chouji was about to feebly protest, the door at the entrance slammed open, and in walked a tall, muscular brown haired girl. Her brown eyes glistened with cheer as she strode in, and atop her head were two beautiful intricately wrapped buns that bounced with each energetic step.

"Hey pops! I'm home!" the girl—no, the maiden, for such a specimen couldn't be a simple girl— shouted into the smithy, and walked past us with a pristine trained focus without as much as a greeting.

Her outfit was also an immaculate sleeveless light pink blouse, edged with deep maroon. Behind her trailed a scent that belied exertion, and faint traces of lilies. Black fingerless gloves graced her flawless fingers as she took my breath aw—

—I froze, and shook my head. With that action, I could feel the addled haze clear bit by bit, and I felt more of myself fill in the gaps.

What the hell was that?

I looked to my left, and followed Shikamaru's shocked gaze only to be stunned at the sight of Chouji's mouth frozen mid chew. He was enthralled. I felt his thoughts and emotions as clear as if they were my own. His curiosity, his attraction, his desire to learn more.

Was that what Chouji felt?

I distinctly noted that I felt more full than ever; Which was very strange, given the fact that up until this very moment, I'd wanted—no, needed more.

Was that Chouji's hunger earlier?

I couldn't even tell that something was wrong, I just slipped and suddenly I felt everything that he felt? Thought everything he thought? There was something strangely disconcerting about that.

I blinked.

I could think about that strange experience later. More importantly, I'd never, not once seen Chouji even look at a girl before. Even Shikamaru was equally stunned at the sight.

It took a nudge from me for him to return to himself and to stop bombarding me with all of that.

I looked at Shikamaru and we shared a moment of bewilderment. We turned back to Chouji in tandem, who intently went back to his meal.

Nah.

"Hmmm," I hummed as Chouji seemed to shrink into himself, only fueling my grin, "Why Chouji, I'd never seen this side of you before."

"Please don't," he begged, but I found myself energized with purpose.

"However could I not? My friend is in need!" I turned to Shikamaru who decided to get lost in the crumbs that remained from his sandwich, "Shikamaru! Do your job, be a wingman."

"Far too bothersome," he said with a groan, "Look, Chouji doesn't even want to do anything."

I looked, and looked. Chouji was hunched over as he ate, and outwardly, all I saw was a person who'd given up before he'd even started.

Inwardly, deep under all the anxiety and self confidence issues. Deep under the image issues—that I definitely had a hand in perpetrating when I was younger, dumber, and meaner.

Deep under all of the walls and foggy issues, there was a sliver of hope.

A little mote that seemed to roil and flicker in a fight against his turmoil.

He wasn't in love with this girl—that'd be absolutely absurd— at all. He didn't even know if he could like her. He didn't know a thing about her. But he wanted to learn.

Something he saw, something that spawned as soon as she'd busted open the doors and yelled through the building without a care. Something he saw in her eyes.

That something, that spark. He wanted to learn more.

I couldn't see that something the way he did. Not anymore. I got a glimpse of it, but when I looked at her now all I saw was an energetic daughter of a smith who was also a Konoha shinobi.

But. Chouji was my friend. I couldn't let that hope be snuffed. Not when I could do something.

"Shikamaru. Help," I said and looked at him pleadingly. He looked at me, and then at Chouji, and after much deliberation, mentally decided that Chouji didn't want us to bother.

I couldn't even blame him; For all he saw, he was right. Chouji was the very picture of reluctance and disinterest. I actually seemed like the bully here.

"Women are a drag," he drawled. I knew what he meant. Shikamaru's mouth was particularly dishonest, but I'd had practice in translating his surface thoughts; The entire scenario had higher risk than perceived reward, and he didn't want to push Chouji farther than he was comfortable. All in all, it was generally not worth the effort.

So few words with a myriad of meanings behind it.

I still shoved him, though.

Fine.

I bounced out of my seat, and bound over to the target of my friend's interest with an energy I definitely didn't have.

I thrust a hand out at her, "Hi! I'm Ino," she bewilderedly accepted my hand and I continued, "Yamanaka Ino."

There was recognition there. Good. She knew who I was, then. Names carried weight that couldn't be ignored. That'd help smooth things along maybe.

I was still a bit frayed at the edges, I'd need all the help.

"Tamura Tenten," she shook my hand as if she were afraid it'd shatter, "Not to sound rude but… are you sure you should be in the smithy looking like… well, like death?"

"It's fine," I certainly was not fine, "I feel great," and I most certainly did not. My lie also did not pass unnoticed, as she sniffed it out with graceful ease.

"If you say so…"

I ignored her thinking about how tired my eyes looked, and considered my angle. She was an obviously athletic girl, and took clear pride in that.

"That's a pretty name, for such an obviously active girl like you," she gave me a bewildered, confused look, and briefly wondered if I was hitting on her. Which I was; Kind of, but not really. How was this supposed to work again? "You clearly work out, your muscles are impressive," I didn't even have to lie, as her forearms were an accurate representation of her lifestyle.

She looked like she could bend Shikamaru in half.

Not a shinobi focused on NinJutsu, then.

"A-ah, yeah," her flustered response was a bit surprising, was she not used to praise? "Hard not to, with Guy Sensei as my team's Jounin Sensei," I halted my assault as I froze in recognition. She must have been familiar with the look, as she relaxed slightly, "You know him, then?"

"Yes," both fortunately, and unfortunately, "He prescribed a training regimen for me and a friend," I paused as I remembered his… mannerisms, "He is… eccentric."

She nodded in commiseration, "Eccentric, sure," and gave an exasperated giggle, one that made me feel tired for her, "More like crazy. Sensei and his little clone—" there were more of them!? "—running around the village screaming nonsense about youth." She suppressed a rising shudder, before continuing, "Yeah. Following them around, you get a workout just trying to keep up."

"My condolences," I couldn't imagine having to be around Guy Sensei for an extended period of time. Luckily, my interaction with him was always brief; He'd occasionally check in to see the results of my training, and adjust my regimen accordingly.

And there were two of them!?

I briefly imagined a smaller version of Guy Sensei and shuddered. Hopefully, we'd never meet.

We spoke briefly about our training and compared notes. I'd learned she was a year ahead, partnered with Guy's clone and potential son—they'd both denied it but Tenten herself didn't buy it— and a stuck up pretty-boy Hyuuga.

The only Hyuuga I personally knew was very much the opposite of that—well, she was pretty, so I guess that was just a Hyuuga thing. She was quite shocked to learn of a Hyuuga that didn't, and I quote, have a stick permanently lodged up their ass.

I didn't forget my goal, though.

"Say, if you have some free time, how about we hang out sometime?"

She looked over my shoulder, and eyed my teammates briefly. She was a quick one, as she'd immediately caught on to the fact that I wasn't hitting on her for myself, "So which one is it?"

I laughed lightly, and considered playing dumb, before getting rid of that thought entirely, "The Akimichi. He's pretty shy but I can guarantee he's strong, determined, loyal, and all that."

"He put you up to this?" Her response was… unexpected. We were fine, enjoying the conversation. Friendly. Amicable. But once she'd asked that question, I could feel her irritation spike, and continue to rise.

"No!" I all but yelled quickly, before lowering my volume and continuing, "In fact, he didn't want me to say anything. But I have a hard time leaving my friends alone sometimes," her irritation lessened a fair bit after I threw myself under the proverbial carriage.

Good, it was all me. Blame me.

She took another look at him as he pointedly looked out the window in faux disinterest, "He's kinda chubby ain't he?"

I cringed as I remembered incessantly teasing Chouji about that in our younger years, "Kinda? It's mostly muscle, though."

"Looking kinda round for muscle, blondie," my first instinct was to leap to Chouji's defence, and only the knowledge that she was messing with me pulled me back. By the look of it, she knew that I knew, as well.

Everyone in the village should have had cursory knowledge of the Akimichi Jutsu, and their accompanying lifestyle, at the very least. Chouji was… a bit rounder than most of his clan, but he'd been getting more defined with the exercise Chouza Sensei had been putting him through.

He still ate far too much, though.

I calmed myself down, and considered playing up the importance of him being the Akimichi heir, but I dismissed that. I wouldn't want my friend to be taken with a vixen who only valued him for his name.

"He trains a lot. The Akimichi Jutsu just has benefits for keeping the weight around."

"I know," she laughed lightly, and hummed in thought, "Maybe if he asked me himself, but I'm not a fan of someone who can't fight their own battles."

Ah. I see.

Oops.

Perhaps I miscalculated, "Understandable, I guess," and I clawed for a way to end the conversation amicably, "We could still hang out sometime if you want, it's so hard making friends as a shinobi."

"True that. That sounds fine to me, you seem fun enough," she smiled disarmingly, before wincing, "Gotta get going though. I'd only stopped by to pick up some spare tools."

And off she went with a wave, as quick and energetic as she came in.

I walked back to my team, wracked with guilt. Still, I had to own it, "So, I might have messed up."

Mayhaps I was a bit forceful with the issue. Maybe I was too tired to navigate the conversation properly. There were a lot of maybes here. In the end though, I screwed up.

"Oh really?" I shoved Shikamaru with what little energy I had, but he didn't lose that smug attitude, "Pray tell how?"

That little sliver of hope inside Chouji seemed to roil, stifled under the weight of everything else.

"She… didn't appreciate me playing wingman. She'd much prefer it if he approached her himself," I winced as it shuddered, "Not all is lost though Chouji. I promise. You'll get a proper shot."

He wilted slightly, "It's okay, Ino. Thanks for trying," he didn't believe me.

Damnit.

 

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Finding my so-called center was a lot more difficult these days, with all the distractions both old and new. And by difficult, I really meant that it was impossible.

It could not be done.

Even so, I still found the physical process somewhat relaxing. Just the act of sitting as still as I could, in a deathly silent environment allowed me to think. To just think. Something about the act allowed me to just let the emotions of a sizable portion of the village just pass through me.

I'd still feel them, of course. Someone halfway across the village feeling surprised still took me right out of it, but my calm returned shortly after.

Thought after errant thought passed by me, and I chuckled as I dredged up an amusing memory.

The talk with dad right after Hinata left. His thrumming horror. How stifled and frustrated he felt. How he choked with every other word, as he forced himself to explain the… in his words, "sapphic" aspects of romance.

I'm not sure why I found it so amusing, but I did.

He wasn't surprised that I didn't know much about it, as mom would've… should've been the one to walk me through all that stuff—And the Academy only taught the bare minimum unless one elected into the more… adult courses.

Clan heirs rarely bothered. Never had the need.

I wouldn't have learned of… alternate romance from observation, either; Shinobi were very closed off in terms of their romantic pursuits. Having a partner was very often a liability and a risk.

A risk to their own life. A risk to their lover's life. A risk to their children, both future and present.

And as for civilians, it was abnormal of them to pursue the same sex, for reasons dad refused to elaborate on.

I drew it from his mind though, the efficacy of his mental shields waxed and waned with his mental state, so it was easy—criminally so— to waltz right in at that moment.

Babies. It was babies. Little people.

The little overly complicated bundles of simplicity. The ones that felt that every little thing was /so amazing/—except hunger, which was akin to the end of the world.

With the answer already out there, I pressed, and dad capitulated. He was on his second bottle at that point.

Using unnatural methods to secure progeny was apparently not easy. Or cheap. Or readily available even if one could afford it.

Which meant only the 'affluent' bothered, and the affluent didn't often parade their romantic lives; Because much like shinobi, they understood that partners were a liability.

A risk to their career, a risk to life, a risk to safety.

It all circled back to that. Safety.

Not to mention the logistics issue, exactly how it worked still eluded me. Dad's mind completely locked down once he'd dedicated what little remained of his focus toward his shielding, and he refused to even entertain the idea of elaborating.

He didn't enjoy my joke about using a blunt kunai as a faux insertion tool. He didn't enjoy that at all.

With a chuckle, I let go and the memory receded, back into the recesses of my mind.

I thought of Chouji's crush. How the mere notion of talking to her seemed like such a mountain to him. I thought of my desires to help, and how they'd temporarily backfired.

I thought of Shikamaru. How his guilt and fear towards me seemed to lessen each and every day. My complicated feelings towards that, the fear of losing a friend to nonsense. The fear of growing apart.

I thought of myself—

—A familiar, focused presence entered my range, and I snapped to it like a loosed arrow. I tracked her intently, and traced her path—step by determined step— up until the point where she got to my front door.

She was let in, and she spoke with dad for a while. I could feel the tension between them rise and swell as they spoke. I was only privy to one half of the conversation, though. She wanted to catch up with me. Dad didn't believe her, and I couldn't find it in me to blame him.

She didn't seem to be here under orders. Her desires were apparently pure. Point in her favour.

Still.

Eventually, dad allowed her to see me, and she stepped into my room with steps as light as feathers.

She smelled like blood a hint of mountainous roses, the same perfume she'd always used.

When she played at being a normal shinobi, that is.

She shifted from leg to leg in awkwardness as I 'meditated'; A war occurred between her desires, and her reluctance to interrupt.

Eventually, one side won, and she cleared her throat.

When I spoke, it was in a soft, tightly controlled whisper, "Yes, auntie?"

She was a tiny bit surprised and aggrieved, but pressed on regardless with a tight smile that pulled at the scar on her lip, "Hi, Ino."

"Hi auntie," I let the silence return as she stewed. A frustrated expression marred her pretty face as her eyebrows scrunched together.

"How's life as a genin been?" She eventually pushed through awkward silence with an empty question. Small talk.

I found that… I couldn't quite bring myself to care for it. I didn't have the patience for the back and forth, not today. Not with her.

"What do you really want, auntie?" I asked even though I already knew what she wanted. She wanted to know about me. She wanted to know when I came into being a Sensor Type. She wanted to know if it was painful. She wanted to know how my social life was impacted.

She reeled back as if struck, and took a deep breath to recover, but couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice, "You're upset with me."

I was. I didn't know exactly why I was upset. Perhaps I was feeling betrayed by the secrecy, even though I understood that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Even though I knew I didn't have the right to demand honesty from her.

Even though I kept secrets of my own that even now I had no plans to divulge.

I was a bit of a hypocrite, it seemed.

Regardless, I nodded slowly.

"You know I couldn't tell you."

Again, I nodded.

"I…" she paused, thoughtful, "I'm not under orders or anything. In fact… I don't want you to tell me anything actually secret," I was a bit surprised at her admission, but I felt her genuine feelings slip through, "If our Hokage asks, I won't be able to lie," what was left unsaid was that I should only tell her what I didn't mind our leadership knowing.

I took a steady calming breath and opened my eyes for the first time.

I was being childish.

I gazed at her and pushed back at my petty frustrations.

She was my auntie.

She wasn't always there, but when she was, she showered me with attention and love. She watched me grow. She taught me how to do my hair when all my dad wanted to do was cut it or wrap it. She taught me how to project confidence even when I didn't feel it. She taught me the importance of both duty, and family.

"I'm sorry, auntie," I said with a sigh, "What d'you want to know?"

I felt her relief and happiness cascade, "Just… when did it happen? How are you coping?"

I told her a little bit of what I went through, and briefly brushed over the numerous counts of sensory overload, which resulted in me being wrapped in her powerful arms. I was light on the actual details of the power itself, but she didn't mind.

I continued while wrapped in her comforting grasp, and spoke about my dwindling social life, my training regimen.

Eventually, I felt her mischief rise, "So what's this your old man told me about you and this Hyuuga girl?"

I groaned as flashes of pale stars resounded through my mind, "I don't know what dad told you, but we're just friends."

"Uhuh," and of course, she didn't believe me. Not one bit.

"No, really," I insisted to my deaf audience.

"If you say so, Ino," she stated, and her grin grew, "Tell me how you feel about her though."

"Confused?" I rubbed at my eyes with an exasperated groan to dispel any thoughts before they had the chance to spawn, "I don't know, auntie."

"Not long ago I didn't even know two women could be a thing. Now it's just… it's a lot, you know?"

She nodded, and her mischievous grin fell into a more understanding smile, "And that's fine, don't rush things," and then further dropped into a half-aborted grimace, "A rushed relationship is bad for everyone involved. Trust me on that."

There was a story there, and I was only privy to flashes of it.

Bad indeed.