Unbiased, a naruto fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Author's Notes: I've been feeling the need for some drabbles lately, so forgive me if this is a little half-axed. It was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a mini-fic. Go figure.

Unbiased

His love was unending, uncompromisable, and unbiased.

The morning was cool and fresh, the chilled air flowing through her open window and prying her eyes apart with a start. The young kunoichi yawned, stretching languidly and gazing from her bed into the brilliant sunrise right outside her window. The colors danced kaleidoscopically on her walls and through her hair, turning her golden locks a brilliant shade of orange. She placed both feet on the wooden floor and shuffled unhurriedly into her attached bathroom. She left the door open so she could still see the sunrise.

Team Ten had a mission today, bright and early, and she didn't want to be late.

"Morning." To her intense surprise, the laziest shinobi in all of Konoha (a.k.a. Nara Shikamaru) was already up and about and lounging on her open windowsill. The blonde turned quickly, blue eyes wide with surprise upon his arrival.

"Well… morning to you, too," she murmured amusedly, clutching her favorite brush to her chest. Then the girl turned, still clad in her pajama pants and purple tank top, and began brushing her long hair.

She made several swipes of the brush through her locks and grunted at the force she had to exert. Her hair was disgusting—ratted and tangly, and her roots looked greasy. She had been too tired to wash it last night (there wasn't enough time left to wash it this morning), and now she was paying the price. The curse of being a blonde, she mused.

Ino only spared the briefest of glances into the mirror when she felt Shikamaru sidle up behind her and lean against the doorframe. The blonde picked out a bottle of detangler in the hopes of harnessing its miraculous powers. She sprayed it multiple times into her hair until it was almost soaking wet and ran her brush through it again, but still, she felt the tug of tangles irritating her scalp. She winced. "Ow. I hate my hair."

Shikamaru simply looked on in amusement, occasionally catching her gaze in the mirror, as she did her best to destroy the rats' nests that entangled her locks together. After twenty minutes of torture, she threw the brush down in disgust. "I hate my hair!" she declared again, more vehemently. "I freaking hate it, and it's so stupid and ugly! I wish it would just FALL OUT so I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore!"

Then Ino turned and pouted, leaning against the sink for support and glaring at Shikamaru who still stood in the doorway. Cautiously, the shadow shinobi moved from his position and stood in front of her, sharp brown eyes sweeping over her figure before coming to rest on her platinum blonde locks of hair. For reasons unknown to her, Ino found herself miraculously unable to breathe and unable to move. All she could do was watch Shikamaru with wide eyes as his hand slowly hovered forward.

This was a foreign feeling to her. Never had Shikamaru appeared so forward with her, and it almost made her want to… blush.

Dark fingers gently ran their course through her soft hair. "I like your hair," he muttered quietly; such an observation was so uncharacteristic of him, and Ino absently wondered if he was ill or crazy or simply… different… today. For some reason, she hoped it was the last.

"I like your hair," he repeated. "But that doesn't matter. If it all fell out, well… I'd still like you, anyway."

Ino's face turned red (once again, due to unknown reasons), and she quickly shoved him out of her bathroom with the excuse that she had to get changed. And even though he was gone, his scent and his presence (and her pink cheeks) still remained.

It was just another day of rest and relaxation for Yamanaka Ino. She was clad only in her sports bra and running shorts, and her limbs were spread out on the grass beneath her so she could adequately sunbathe. The day was hot and sunny—perfect for allowing her to work on her tan—and she wasn't about to let it go. Softly, she sighed and looked around. There were a few other women hanging around the park; it was the perfect spot (besides the beach, of course), for bronzing one's skin, and the numerous females of the village had apparently gotten the same idea she had. Everywhere she looked, the Yamanaka saw perfection. Perfectly sculpted legs, tight rears, curvaceous hips. Ino always took pride in her appearance. She had to be better than these women.

She flipped over in a huff and returned to her sunbathing.

Her partner, who was lying beside her, muttered something unintelligible from under his breath. Ino frowned. "Don't pout, Shikamaru. I know it's too sunny to sleep or watch the clouds, but I asked you to come out here with me, and you better not break your promise." Her words held an underlying threatening tone that the young Nara beside her was all too familiar with. "Only an hour or two more, and I'll have the perfect complexion."

Skin was important to Ino—almost as much as her hair and her body. She hated the fact that she was naturally pale and did everything within her power to change herself. Because she was so white, her skin was nearly transparent; some might've found this trait attractive, but Ino herself found it disgusting. She could see every slight discoloration of her skin, she took notice of every white scar, and she could clearly see each individual vein pumping blood beneath her skin. She hated it. It made her look… fragile. Breakable. Tanned women were beautiful and fierce, like Temari. She was like that.

Not that she wanted to be like Temari. She was just an example.

Besides being pale and transparent… she also thought her skin was too ugly. She was extremely white and therefore susceptible to a gag-inducing genetic defect called keratosis pylaris, which clogged up her pores and formed unsightly red splotches all across the backs of her arms and thighs. She hated her skin with a passion, and she hated her stupid skin condition, and she hated the way it made her look white and red instead of the perfect tan she was SUPPOSED to be.

She hated herself.

Pouting, Ino placed her chin over her folded hands and came face-to-face with her teammate, Nara Shikamaru. He was only looking at her because there was simply nothing else to do. He couldn't watch the clouds because the sun was too bright, he couldn't nap because… well, the sun was too bright, and he couldn't find any peace to reasonably daydream because of the striking blonde lying on her stomach beside him. The young Nara noticed her angry expression and followed her gaze to the plastic women walking before them.

He really didn't like women like that. They called themselves "golden brown"; he called them "burnt to a crisp." Women didn't go around lying under the X-ray machine to get breast cancer. So why on earth would they lie under the sun to get skin cancer? It made no sense to him. Stupid women and their stupid logic.

Back to Ino. He knew what she was thinking. She was jealous because all the other women in Suna and Konoha and the other villages of the world were "perfect" in their… burntness… with their UV-induced skin cancer and their wrinkles-at-the-age-of-thirty.

Personally, he enjoyed his women better when they looked young, not old.

"I hate my skin," the blonde mumbled angrily. "I hate how it's red and splotchy and turns purple when it's cold outside."

"Ino, the purple is a discoloration of the skin that signifies the presence of increased blood flow to a particularly temperature-stricken area of the body; it means you have good circul—" One well-placed glare and Shikamaru knew he should've kept his mouth shut. He sighed, muttering his trademark phrase, and crossed his arms over his chest. Women.

She was still pouting, pink lips jutting out cutely and hands propped beneath her chin. Shikamaru's eyes traveled down her body and noticed with a bit of disgust that her skin was already turning pink due to heat irritation. The redness always showed up about an hour or two later than the actual damage inflicted. Ino would be sunburnt tomorrow.

Sighing, the shadow nin sat up and traced careful fingers along the back of her arm. It was rough to the touch due to the bumps, but for some reason, Shikamaru found this extremely pleasing. Ino looked up, surprised and a bit shocked. Shikamaru felt her questioning eyes on him but kept his gaze glued to her skin—her rough, not perfect, not pretty but so darn beautiful for some reason skin.

"I love your skin," he stated simply, "because it's different and not perfect. It's nice."

And then his hand was gone, just like that, to support the weight of his head as he lay back in the grass once again. Ino was left with her mouth hanging open, breathing just a little bit haggard. She closed her eyes and could sense his fingers still gently brushing against her skin, and the ghost of his touch sent shivers up her spine. She smelt his scent as the breeze carried over the both of them.

And then the moment was gone, leaving Ino to clear her head and Shikamaru to shake his in irritation. "Stupid women, always thinking that men want what's perfect. Perfection's a little boring, don't you think?" Now he was frowning, but his words betrayed how he truly felt. What he had just stated moments before. "Kami, Ino, you're such a pain."

The blonde kunoichi blinked and gazed at the emerald blades of grass before her, all thoughts of the other "perfect" women around her forgotten. Why did she do what she did, anyway? For Sasuke? Ha, that was a joke. He was dismissed from her mind the moment he had betrayed his own village. So why then? For recognition? From whom? Or perfection, which was unobtainable for humans anyway?

Ino shifted, her forearm softly brushing against Shikamaru's. For some reason, she didn't feel like sunbathing anymore.

Yamanaka Ino sniffled pitifully, popping another chocolate candy into her mouth. She was moody, she was irritable, and if so much as one other person commented about her choice of clothing, then she would surely punch him in the face. So what, it was illegal to wear sweatpants around Konoha now? There were times in a girl's life where she simply needed to be irritable, needed chocolate to calm her nerves, and needed sweatpants to make her feel comfy instead of gorgeous. What was so wrong with that?

One week of Hell a month. Ha. She'd like to see any man grow a pair enough to try THAT for a lifetime.

Akimichi Choji and Nara Shikamaru, her two best friends and teammates, had hopped over to her house for a little team meeting earlier that day. They had talked for a while, but since there wasn't really all that much to talk about, the meeting had dispersed shortly and all had gone their different ways. Ino had gone upstairs to break into her secret stash of chocolate, Choji had wandered into the kitchen in search of food, and Shikamaru had meandered outside to put Inoichi's old shogi board to good use. The only time he ever used it was when Shikaku came over, anyway.

Sighing and wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Ino carefully made her way down the steps and out to the back patio, trying to hide her inexplicable irritation and general feeling of ickiness. The last thing she needed was sympathy from either of her teammates.

As promised, Shikamaru was seated in a patio chair playing a rousing, one-sided game of shogi. Ino found it amusing how he could wean so much pleasure from playing a game with himself. Of course, she would have offered to play with him, but she hadn't the slightest clue how to move the pieces or what the rules of the game were. She didn't even know how to win. And even if she knew how, it's not like she could; in challenging Shikamaru, she would always lose.

Her mind curbed back toward herself again. Her hair, tied into a quick ponytail. Her face without any makeup. Her sweatpants. Her general feeling of ickiness. "I feel fat today," Ino announced randomly (and quite pitifully), pausing only to shove another chocolate in her mouth as she held the box tightly against her midsection.

Brown eyes disentangled themselves from the shogi set and glanced at the blonde. Shikamaru almost made the mistake of pointing out the obvious—maybe the fact that she was eating so much chocolate was what was making her feel so fat—but he bit his tongue violently and stopped himself just in time. The boy may have been socially challenged, but he wasn't suicidal.

Shikamaru was always careful around Ino, especially when she was in moods like this one. He knew she could be unpredictable and dangerous sometimes. But for some reason, that didn't bother him so much. He could handle it when she was angry at him; he knew how to take care of bruises, he knew what to do when she hit him, and he knew how to respond when she yelled at him. The only thing Shikamaru couldn't handle was when she started crying. When Ino was like this, she would just as soon break down as bite his head off, and that was what terrified him the most. When she was angry, she was strong and therefore impenetrable. But when she began to cry, she was weak, and it scared him to death because he wasn't sure what to do with her. It felt like one touch would shatter her into a million pieces.

It was with this same cautiousness that Shikamaru rose from his game and approached the Yamanaka girl. Ino sniffled again, hoping for some sort of sympathy from him, and closed the box regretfully before placing it on the table.

Shikamaru knew she only wanted to capture his attention, so he let her whine and pretend like she was the only woman on the planet.

Which, for him, wasn't so far from the truth.

It was also with this same cautiousness that Shikamaru placed two gentle hands on Ino's slim shoulders and pulled her close against his chest. Sighing, Ino could nearly bob her head in time to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Shikamaru's musky scent was all around her, and his warmth spread through her body. Curse that lazy bum for coloring her cheeks and provoking her heart to race for him.

For him.

Curse that lazy bum.

Shikamaru knew he had to say something careful. Something truthful that told her how he really felt, but he couldn't sugar-coat it for her. That wasn't fair. After a moment of planning, he opened his big mouth.

"Ino, I'd love you even if you were fat."

The kunoichi threw her arms around her stupid, lazy bum of a shinobi and cried pitifully into his shoulder.

Hey.

She was a woman. She was entitled to her moody moments, and becoming emotional was no exemption.

It was only later that Ino realized just how lucky she was.

Haruno Sakura came knocking on her door late one night, and Ino was shocked to see her best friend slash rival on the verge of a complete breakdown.

Sasuke had used her for his own means. It was harsh and cruel and disgusting considering how much Sakura freaking loved Sasuke with all of her heart. She had let him do whatever he wanted with her, and he had taken advantage of her love and her kindness and her affection, and he had shattered her into a million pieces. Ino felt her heart break as Sakura sobbed relentlessly onto both her shoulders. The blonde and the rosette sat together, embraced on Ino's bed as the young Haruno mourned the loss of her virginity and the only man whom she had ever loved.

It was in that moment that Ino had an epiphany.

She was so, so lucky.

Shikamaru loved her when her hair was greasy.

Shikamaru loved her when her skin was white and red instead of tan.

Shikamaru loved her, and would ALWAYS love her, even if she became fat and ugly and the most physically unattractive woman in all of Konohagakure.

Shikamaru loved her with all of his heart and with all of his soul and with all of his mind, and he would not let her go. His love was unending, uncompromisable, and unbiased.

As Sakura's tears stopped, Ino's began, and with a quivering voice, she declared that she was so, so happy. Eternally grateful to the universe for allowing her to rest in the arms of a man who wouldn't dare break her heart.

She was glad she hadn't fallen in love with Sasuke.