Psychosanity
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Prologue
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The door opened, silently without a single creak, and in the darkness Shikamaru could see a figure slip out from the room. He was stocky, a male probably in his thirties. There was no discernible weapon on him, but it was hard to tell when the hallway was pitch black. Not that blackness was a bad thing, no, Shikamaru would never complain about that. Because it meant he had total – total – control.
"Kagemane is a success," the young jounin whispered into the dark, pitifully easy for his shadows to grab hold of the man in front of the door. Something glowed behind him, lighting the hallway in a dim, blue light. It was Hinata, her hand encased in a circle of blue chakra, brought to the level of her eyes. It revealed the finer details of the man, his body stiff from Shikamaru's Kagemane. "Where is she?" Shikamaru asked, his voice low and dark. The man laughed, sweat dripping down his temple.
"Close enough to touch, but too far to reach," the man mocked, a sickly grin spreading over his face. Shikamaru's face darkened more in the shadows flickering across his face.
"Hinata," he said curtly, but she was a step ahead of him. Her byakugan was already activated; her lips were pursed in a thin line.
"Yamanaka-san is beyond the door," the quiet girl murmured, and Shikamaru stepped forward, his footfalls silent. He cancelled Kagemane just as he came toe-to-toe with the man blocking his path, who was gasping a little from the abrupt release of the jutsu. Shikamaru's arm shot out, his fingers wrapping around the fat column of the pig's neck, squeezing.
"What did you do to her?" His voice was still low; patient. Hinata and his two other teammates, Sakura and Sasuke, waited with hard eyes behind him. The man choked a little from the pressure of the fingers, but smiled toothily.
"What any man would do when confronted with a beautiful girl on a bed—" he was cut off, gasping for breath as Shikamaru squeezed, his dark eyes flashing with something terrible. He could've crushed the little twit's neck so easily if it weren't for the firm hand that fell on his wrist.
"Nara." Sasuke's tone was cold and professional. Shikamaru glared at him for the slightest moment, but eased his grip and flicked his wrist to the side. It sent the man flying into the wall, his head cracking harshly on the drywall. Shikamaru knew the bastard wasn't dead; he didn't exert enough force for that to be an instant kill. But it did knock him out, and while Sasuke bent down to take the care to tie him up, Shikamaru just opened the door and stepped into the room where Ino was held captive.
The first thing he noticed was the smell.
His fingers curled into a fist. (Sweat and sex.) He saw her sprawled on the bed, her beautiful hair tangled into knots. (Blood and urine.) Her skin was littered with bruises, cuts, drying blood, and worst of all—
"Fucking scum," Shikamaru heard Sakura swear. He agreed silently (vehemently) in his head, stepping forward and touching one spot on her naked body that wasn't splattered with semen. It was only the barest graze – a flicker of touch – but it was enough for her to curl her knees further into her chest. A silent whimper escaped from her lips, her boney limbs shaking with fear and her mangled hair covered her face.
"Please… please no more," she pleaded, and Shikamaru flinched, stepping back. Hinata took his spot almost immediately, crouching beside the bed but not touching the blonde.
"Yamanaka-san," she murmured gently, kindly. "We are not here to hurt you. We are here to help." And Shikamaru saw Ino's head shift, her hair falling to the side as she peered at Hinata with a set of glassy eyes.
"H-help?" Ino whispered, and Shikamaru dug his fingers into his palm, willing himself not to reach out and sweep her into his arms where he could hide her for the rest of her life. Hinata nodded, her slim, pale, dainty hand reaching out and hovering in front of Ino's eyes.
"Yes. We are rescuing you," Hinata said softly, and Ino blinked her glassy eyes once.
"He said no one would come," she replied, her throat raspy and hoarse. Shikamaru wasn't sure if it was from a lack of use, or too much of it. He hoped it was not the latter.
Hinata smiled patiently. "He was wrong, Yamanaka-san. We are sorry it took so long, but we are here now." Ino's gaze flickered from the hand to Hinata's eyes. She seemed to be debating something in her mind. A tentative smile spread over her lips, but it was painful and sad and heartbreaking and Shikamaru wanted it to go away and give him back Ino's real smile—
"So does that mean we're going home?" Ino asked, and her voice was so child-like and full of hope that Shikamaru struggled to keep his tears at bay. Hinata nodded, slowly reaching for the bag slung over her shoulder.
"Yes. We are going home, Yamanaka-san. I have some clothes for you to wear—" she was cut off by Ino suddenly sitting up, backing into the headboard with wide, frightened eyes. She was hugging herself, her head shaking from side-to-side.
"No, no, no, no," Ino chanted maniacally. "No clothes, no clothes. He doesn't like it when I wear clothes, no he doesn't. Clothes get in the way, he says, they get in the way." She continued like that, shaking her head and curling further into herself. It stunned everyone in the room, seeing such a strong-willed woman so broken; so shattered. But Hinata was the quickest to recover, and she took a slow step forward.
"He is no longer here, Yamanaka-san. He will not hurt you anymore," Hinata told her, holding the folded clothes in her hands. Ino threw her head back and let out a shrill laugh, a few greasy locks dangling in her face. Her eyes, god her eyes. They were wild and chaotic and maniac, dancing with bitter amusement. It was then, staring into her eyes, that Shikamaru knew the Ino he said good-bye to three weeks ago was not the same one he was looking at now. She was a poor imitation; a shell of shattered, broken pieces.
"Not here? Not here? He will always be here, Hina-chan, yes he will, he will never leave," Ino giggled, running her hands through her disgusting hair, pulling and scrunching and clawing. "Never leave, never leave, never leave—"she continued chanting again, and Shikamaru wanted to look away. He wanted to turn around and forget this night; he wanted to erase Sakura's memory, and Hinata's memory, and Sasuke's memory, and cocoon Ino in his apartment where there would be twenty-four hour surveillance—
But he could not.
"Sakura." The pink-haired kunoichi jumped at the sound of his voice. Everyone heard him except for Ino, rocking back and forth on the bed, pulling and tugging at her hair. "Knock her out." Sakura's eyes widened, but then they turned flat and blank and unreadable and Shikamaru knew she had tapped into her kunoichi persona, the one that forced her to detach her feelings and emotions from her actions. She walked over to the other side of the bed, her hand quick as it laid one firm chop onto Ino's head. The blonde fell over without much fuss, her eyes blissfully closed. Hinata was quick and sure, unflinching as she dressed Ino in a simple pair of pants and shirt. Sakura stepped aside as Shikamaru reached out, lifting the blonde into his arms.
He took that moment to stare at her sleeping face. It was peaceful and serene; the opposite of what it had looked like only seconds before. It was beautiful, he decided, this expression. Beautiful and right.
Sasuke stepped out into the hall, flinging their captive over his shoulder. Sakura was behind him, her gloved hand tightened in a shaking fist as she glared at the unconscious figure. Shikamaru figured it was probably best Sasuke carried the target. Sakura would kill him if she got her hands on him. He, however, was not so merciful.
Hinata took up the rear of the formation as he stepped out of the room with Ino. She was feather-light in his arms, and the shadow-user wished for the umpteenth time that she wasn't. But he did not dwell on it, as he was prone to doing, and fell into step behind Sakura. The four of them were silent as they left the hideout, leaping into the trees; so silent they were nothing but shadows in the night.
TBC