Of Water and Ink - VIII

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He was something to watch; a predator that flew like a panther with his sword as his claws. Even without his sharingan he had been fast to dodge the black scroll's attacks, and faster still to plant his own. The black scroll was no pushover, either; though Ino was these days considered near the top tier of Konoha's non-ANBU ninja, watching them fight made her all too aware of just how much more she had to learn to get to that level. She flitted on the edge of their battle radius, just waiting to cast her control over their target, but she was so mesmerized watching them fight she nearly did not notice when Itachi caught the man in his illusion.

"Ino!" Itachi called as the man continued to fight against some hallucination. "You've got maybe a minute before he notices."

"Right!" she called, and with a leap that would have betrayed her ninja training to anyone who hadn't known was beside him. She sat with her back to the remnants of a nearby wall and cast her jutsu, and for a moment the world went dark.

The first thing she noticed in becoming aware of the target's body, a particular sensation that she would probably never get used to, was the pain. It burned through his body, but especially did it bite in his chest, where the tear in his shirt had already revealed the decomposition to them. It was no wonder that he had gone insane, she found herself thinking-but she stopped herself before she could go down that train of thought.

In opening his eyes she found Itachi leaning slightly over her own body, but his eyes were on the target's. She opened his mouth and found it painful to speak—and his voice came out in a growl. "Okay, Itachi," she struggled out. "This is the easy part—stab him."

Itachi straightened again and fixed her with a particular look. "Won't that kill you as well?"

"No, it'll just cancel my jutsu, and I'll be back in my body." She tries to position the man's body better, but the result is a cacophonous cry escaping from his lips at the further pain the movement triggers. "Hurry it up, would you?" She growls to Itachi. "Put this bastard out of his misery."

Itachi nodded, like he didn't trust himself with words—but that was impossible. This was Uchiha Itachi. On orders or no, he had nearly single-handedly wiped out the Uchiha clan while they, for the most part, lay sleeping. There was nothing in the simple ending of a target that would make such a man hesitate. Ino was imagining things. She drew herself back into reality, as he brandished his sword and plunged it into her—

First there was pain, and then the black.

She swam desperately through the darkness, feeling desperation growing in her in leaps and bounds. There was a constriction in her chest, like she was slowly suffocating.

Relax, her father's voice soothed.

Most likely, Sakura's voice hypothesized, an echo of a most distance memory, in the absence of a body your consciousness has nothing to measure time with. It's hardly a second in reality, but I suppose without perception to measure it by, for you the jump could take—

Gasping, she landed firmly in reality. The pain wasn't so bad now that she was back in her own body, already fading away…

"Ino?" came a soft voice.

She blinked the spots out of her eyes. "Is he dead?"

"Yes." Of course he was. Itachi peered down at her. "Are you alright."

"Of course I am." She moved to stand up and the world went sideways, sending her head crashing back into the tree. "Bad jump," she clarified before he could comment, like it was the most natural thing. She pressed her hand to the base of her neck—that must have been where he stabbed the target.

"You felt my sword."

She cocked a brow and looked up at him. "Well, yeah, for a second," she half-way lied. "It's nothing I'm not used to." He didn't reply, but she could practically feel the sudden wave of unreadable emotions coming off the man—was he flaring his nostrils? She could have laughed. "What would your old associates say if they saw you tutting like over a mother hen over a bit of pain?" she says, fixing her face with that smile she thinks might resemble the old Ino—not that he knew the old Ino. She pushes herself away from the tree, and this time she ignores that her vision has gone all spotty and her knees have suddenly disappeared and forces herself—stand!

Apparently her teasing was effective, for the wall of emotions just vanished and she could swear that was a slight tilt in his head—"Tutting?"

She took a step forward and slid her arm into the crook of his elbow. If Itachi noticed the extra weight she was leaning into him, he said nothing. "Yes, tutting!" she said. "Or as close to it as the Great Uchiha will ever get."

"I didn't say anything," he countered, but it was ineffective.

"Exactly. You forget I spent years trying to read your brother. If there's anyone left in the world who can understand what Uchiha mean when they aren't saying anything, it's me."

Sakura had been the one to hold the title of 'Uchiha Translator Extraordinaire'—fat lot of good that had done her. She'd know what it was Itachi was really not saying, because even in his head, Ino couldn't imaging the Great Uchiha tutting. She pushed down the thought and forced herself to release her crutch, turning around. "Can you handle the body? I need to make sure Sai's not dead or anything."

"Right."

But he didn't budge. His eyes her still on her, until she reached the building that Sai had collapsed in his impact. And when she was out of sight behind what was left of a wall—he didn't miss her stumbling or grabbing desperately for what relief support from the structure could provide—he had half a mind to throw the sword still glistening red to the ground. Instead he drew an extra shirt he would hardly miss and wiped the blade clean before slipping it back into the sheath and securing it on his back. The shirt he burned with a blur of hand seals.

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"No," says Itachi, sheathing his sword. "I'm not going to do that again."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ino growls. "Get it over with!"

"No, Ino." He crosses his arms and stares her down. "You are being selfish and immature, and I'm not going to stand by and let you abuse me like that."

"Abuse you?" Ino echoes. "Look, Itachi, I don't know where this is coming from, but whatever this is it is totally unprofessional, which is so not what I'm used to from you. Now let's finish the job, and then you can throw your hissyfit, right?"

"Don't you try to patronize me, Yamanaka," Itachi snaps. "You can try and hide from it all you want, but I'm hardly someone to be fooled in the way of avoiding what is real for the sake of convenience."

"Conven—" Ino is cut off by the shuddering of the body that is the target trying to get through. "Oh, sure," her commandeered raspy voice tries again. "Because dying is convenient. But if you're so opposed to working with me in the most efficient way we can, why don't you just go transfer to another team, hm? But do it after the mission."

"Because I like you," Itachi says, like it is plain as day. "And if you'd ever let me say it without running away, I think we have a chance at love. Which does not involve stabbing each other."

"Right, then, now that you've chosen the most ridiculous time ever to start emoting…" Ino grumbles. She reaches down to find the black scroll's weapons pouch, pulling out a kunai. "I guess I'll just do this the hard way"

Holding the blade out in front of the body, pointing in towards it's chest, she braces herself for the plunge.

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A/N – Well, for now I'll aim to doing the final updates once or twice a week. Unfortunately (for the story, not me!) the last week has been a flurry of activity and readjustment to my new schedule, and so has slowed down my writing/proofing quite a bit, and as I like to be a segment ahead in writing before I post the current one this segment has been stretched out over a long period of time work-wise—ironic when it is two relatively short (in time) scenes. Anyhow, reviews, critiques, and criticisms are always encouraged, and thank you, as always, for reading.