A/N: Welcome, dear readers and lurkers! I'm so pleased you've journeyed with me through this story. I present to you the final installment of "Behind the Cat's Mask". Enjoy. =)

Chapter Thirty-two: Epilogue

Ino sat on the porch overlooking the southern sea, an expanse of azure and turquoise green meeting the horizon of the afternoon skies in splintered sparkles. Waves crashed and seagulls cawed as they wheeled in the air. Salt and sunshine and fish wafted in the wind.

The house she'd been using as her residence and studio was built on the edge of a cliff, a short way through a forest from a small touristy town that claimed the best view of the Cat's Tail constellation on the entire coast. At her feet, a bulky, rangy dog with a chestnut coat by the name of Poppet sprawled out. He was a mutt, adoring and protective, and her eyes and ears when she needed them.

She was due in a little under a month and a half. Would he, her selfish desire, make it in time for the birth? Her rocking chair soothed her impatience and also that of the life growing inside her. Sighing, she rubbed her hand on the crest of her swollen belly. Her confidence in him had not waned. He would show up, but what would delay him? And for how long? Lady Hokage had more than likely punished him for not picking her right away. When Ino had begged Lady Hokage to allow her to handle him her way, Lady Hokage had scoffed and resisted, but finally relented with a slight glint of vengeance in her brown eyes.

That argument seemed so long ago. So trite in the grand scheme of things. Or, as Dad would say, in the grand scheme of Ino. She chuckled at the accuracy of his accusation. Well, Dad, she thought, I've cast my hand. Here's hoping for the jackpot…the man behind the cat's mask.

After awhile of reminiscing, Ino arose and walked across the porch barefoot, the wood creaking in welcome, and entered the house, stepping to the side to allow Poppet to slip in behind her. She'd transformed the entire back room into her art studio, and her various art supplies, of which she was sure Sai would approve, plus dozens of canvasses were organized and stored here. The room had plenty of natural light coming in from the porch windows and she could gaze out at the ocean if she desired for her inspiration.

Her midwife, Rosa, didn't approve of her working while pregnant because of the fumes from the paint, but Ino painted with nontoxic ingredients. To please Rosa (and lessen the nagging- -she, Yamanaka Ino, out-nagged!- -unheard of), she'd cut back on the amount of time she spent in the studio anyway. She moved through the short hallway to the front half of her 'home', the left dedicated to the open kitchen with the quaint dining room table and the right dedicated to an inside sitting room- -where Poppet had curled on the rug in front of the fireplace- -with two small bedrooms to the back right corner with a bathroom between. All of it was rustic and had beach knickknacks in niches. A seaside cottage, Lord Third had told her, the perfect size for a small family, and it was hidden in plain sight.

The Third. She missed him. When she'd been a determined six year-old girl, he'd listened attentively to her explanation, skimmed his fingertips over her drawings, and had smiled at her in agreement. He'd been a wonderful old man, agreeing to her demands that she know this boy'sname and how she could wrangle him into her life to be hers forever.

People aren't pets, young lady, he'd said with a chuckle. No, she replied, but this boy needs someone to care and guard him. He's precious. He's mine.

He is very precious, the dear boy, the Third had said, clamping his teeth on the mouthpiece of his pipe. How did you know?

Ino remembered that moment like it happened yesterday. Six year-old Ino had sat up straight and gazed across to the man who protected and ruled the village. Honesty was her best policy, and honestly, when she saw that boy in the library with beautiful dark eyes, she'd known what she had to do. Then she said, When I look at him, I see what he can become. When we shared a glance, everything opened up inside me.

That statement had held true from the moment Yamato and she had crossed gazes, when they'd reconnected when she was sixteen and again when she'd met him for ANBU training. His dark and soulful eyes opened all her closed doors, and she felt stripped to the bones, to her soul, when he gazed at her. He'd never understood the power he held over her, even try as she might to show him, but she hoped the man he'd become, the man who'd turn up at her doorstep any day now, would.

Her seaside cottage darkened with evening shadows as she fixed up a small dinner, and considered the coolness inherent between the walls. Not coolness, but maybe…a feeling of being without. Of missing his presence, the timbre of his voice. Times like these, she thought, were no times for moping about. And she wasn't alone. She had Junior below her heart. Her dinner was a quiet affair, as was the dishwashing and drying, and she bathed and went to bed, staying up to read a bit to stave off being without. Poppet came back and she allowed him to jump up to occupy the foot of her bed.

A couple layers of blankets warded off the comfortable nighttime cool and Ino quickly succumbed to sleep, but she awoke in the deep heart of the night. Someone had crossed over the telepathic protective border she'd set up as an alarm system. Quietly, she sat upright. Poppet perked his ears. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming from the window. Ino surged chakra into the correct forms and performed Mind-Body Switch, darkness like liquid over her senses, the feeling of flying and perching, and then finally, settling into a new mind.

As Poppet, she hurried through the sepia-toned house, her scent and the scent of the beach pouring over a million buds in her nose. Through the open front door and down a couple steps onto the path that led into the teeming forest she trotted. Night sounds were harsh to Poppet's ears, but familiar, and Ino kept low to the ground and to the shadows as she entered the forest towards the entry point of the intruder. Almost immediately, a scent blared out to her, a shocking smell in the damp, growing vegetation, and Ino used Poppet's night-eyes as she crept forward.

Man. A single one. He was close, coming towards the house in the trees, and he tripped the second alarm system. She froze, watching the boughs through Poppet's eyes, hearing the light taptap that indicated a shinobi's light footfall. A shadow among shadows. She tracked him as he landed on a branch, high up, cloaked, but he turned his face to the house and a glint of mask shone from the moon. A cat's mask.

He'd arrived!

A dog cannot gasp, but Ino did inside Poppet's mind, startled and tremulous with happy surprise.

Caution quibbled that she should check to make sure it really was him and not an enemy in disguise, but in her heart of hearts, she already knew it was her selfish desire. He'd might've known she'd put up a protective barrier around the property but had tripped it purposely. A careful enemy would've seen or felt it, and would've tried to avoid tripping it off.

Ignoring the caution, she released her jutsu, plunged through cold darkness like an arrow into the warmth of her own body. She sat bolt upright and flipped off the covers so she could race through the house to him, but at the last second, she held her excitement in check. No. She would allow him to do this his way. She'd done everything her way since the very beginning…he'd earned the right to approach her how he chose.

Her heart pounded in her chest; Junior kicked as if he, too, overflowed with excitement. Minutes crawled by. Her fingers curled tightly in the covers. What was keeping him? Then she heard his tread on the front porch, the springs' quiet creak as he opened the screen door…Poppet's nails across the tile at the entrance. Poppet seemed to understand the measure of the man who entered the house; he was good at sensing harmful intent. She tracked time with the rapid beating of her heart, her jagged breathing, the unbearable need to see him, touch him.

Did he cross the living room? No…her ears picked up the faintest of shuffling. Despite her impatience for him to get his ass into the bedroom, she recognized his need to check out the homestead. Patience. Patience. She kept her eyes closed as she strained her ears.

Minutes or hours crawled by as she waited, and without warning, a presence flooded the room, flooded her, and the slight rustling of cloth- -the cloak, perhaps- -as he rounded the bed. What would he do? She was dying to find out. Patience, she told herself, be patient.

"Ino?" he whispered. "Ino, wake up."

He touched the side of her face, and she turned her cheek into the warmth of his gloved hand, opening her eyes to see him at last. He'd removed the mask and had unbuttoned the cloak, and she recognized the attempt to soften her awakening. His features were shadowed and darkened, but she didn't need light to know what he looked like.

She smiled, trying for sleepy, but she felt her mouth widen to a grin. "You're late."

"Sorry," he said, amiably, his fingers running under her jaw. She was in the middle of the bed, so he sat on the edge. "I didn't mean to take so long to figure things out."

"You're worth the wait." His proximity had jolted heat through her, and she wondered if he was too weary for what she was thinking of. If he was, too bad. "Say hi to your son."

His hand languidly moved from the crook of her neck, taking a detour around the outside of her breast, to her large belly, fingers spreading and gently pressing through the satin nightgown, and her reaction was a slow burn, a tightening of womanly muscles; he breathed, not quite a sigh but close, and almost right on cue, Junior kicked, a bulls-eye on his father's palm.

"Junior says hello," she said with a chuckle. Her want, her love, for him reared up, a sparking rush, and unable to deny it, she pushed herself to sitting. "We missed you."

Her intent was to pull him in for a hello kiss to rev him up a bit. Before she could lean forward, Yamato's free hand found her nape- -the shiver of sex down her spine- -and then his mouth was on hers, hard, demanding, and the kiss was an injection of pure eroticism into her system, something that she'd wanted from him but he'd been unable to give before. He'd always sidestepped her intensity, taking what she gave as a mere glancing blow, but inside this kiss, he pushed her under the flow of his maleness, of his control, and matched her stride for stride.

This was the man she'd cultivated and prodded for and hauled unwillingly to the forefront. She groaned when his hands made contact with her bare thighs and hips under her gown, her nerves leaping, heat soaking through her, her nipples hard and sensitive to the fabric that shifted across them, and blindly, she peeled back that annoying cloak and attacked his uniform.

Through the searing kisses he wrought from her, she wrested off the body armor and because she was in a rush to have him in her, contented herself with the skin-tight shirt and shoving her hand down his pants to caress his tumescence. She could smell him, all sweat and earth and that sensuous male-musk, and he elicited a surprised cry when he skimmed teeth on her throat. In the middle of this, he'd removed her nightgown, and with a low growl- -oh, yes, his voice was sexy- -flipped her to bend her over the bed. Somehow her legs held her and everything matched and there was a brief break in action when one strong hand curved under her, following the dome of her stomach.

And then…smooth connection. Her mind went blank; she could only feel. The man who plunged into her molten core was nothing like the man she'd left behind a few months ago. The man she'd left behind would've hesitated and spoken to her to assure himself that she was willing; this man had no such qualms. He accepted the power she'd left in his hands and used it. She didn't need the mind-link to see it happen.

Ino said things, but she wasn't hearing herself, so focused on her filled space and the tempo with which he thrust. So long. Too long, she'd been without him. Quick thunder gathered deep inside her, rolling forward so aggressively she barely understood it, and shortly after, she was coming hard, the force of it shaking her, wiping clean the without-ness that had carved the ache in her, releasing her from gravity and earth. She finished with tears in her eyes and her arm muscles strained from how she clenched her fingers in the sheets.

Was he, or was he not, a god? Yes. Yes, he was.

Both of them panted. A hot hand swept over the field of her back. She resisted the urge to purr and arch into his touch. Her insides positively glowed- -would probably pulse with low, murmuring tides for the next day or so as it had when they'd first 'connected'. He pulled free of her and collapsed on the bed to her side, limbs sprawled out and half-dressed.

Leaning forward, she murmured, "Welcome home," then she kissed him gently, which he accepted. "I'll get your bath drawn. Rest here."

If he disagreed, he didn't indicate it, and Ino wouldn't have listened anyway. She drew her nightgown over her head and her new, voluptuous cleavage- -a pregnancy perk, she considered it- -and went into the bathroom to fill the bathtub with steaming hot water and salts to tame his sore muscles. As she waited for the tub to fill, she helped her man out of the rest of his clothes and his weariness seemed to have overcome him. He sagged against her, allowed her to manipulate his limbs, and accepted all guidance into the bath.

Ino considered him magnificent. She adored the shape of his jaw and chin, the breadth of his shoulders, the tendons and muscles of his neck and chest and arms and back, his strong and hardened stomach, the lean lines of his hips and thighs. Even though love softened his flaws, she noticed his weight-loss. Before she'd left, he'd been slim, but healthily so, with subcutaneous fat dulling the shape of his bones. He'd lost enough that his skin seemed shrink-wrapped to his ribcage and his cheeks had fallen into hollows.

And then there was the slate that had formed over the majority of his physique. Her heart turned in her chest. Hardened grey plating covered solidly his torso, legs, and back. Some of his face, a patch here and there, and his genitals were free and clear of his psychosomatic disorder. He'd suffered the consequences of an upheaval, and she was to blame for it. Her selfishness was to blame.

He sighed as he sank down into the hot water. His eyes closed, two bruised and tired lids meeting purpling bags above his cheeks. Quietly, she poured water over his head and down his back a few times, and then shampooed his hair, using a hand to shield his eyes when she rinsed out the suds. She lathered up a washcloth, running it over his body with care and efficiency bred from medical training. He didn't fight her; he accepted what she gave.

Once he was clean of soap, she molded chakra through her fingers and her clan's signs and cradled his head in the palms of her hands. A soul-opening, was what she named the sensation, the unlocking and shining of light into shadowed cervices and hidden secrets inside her. Her body came alive, different from a physical connection, because she could hear the quiet pitter-patter of his thoughts against the pane of his mind, the slow inhale/exhale of breath from his body, and the sound and pulse of a beating heart. Activating the mind-link had a profound effect on him, as though the connection was a powerful, psychological sedative.

His breathing changed; she recognized a serious release of serotonin into his blood stream, an inadvertent result of her being on the inside of him. And then there was a small clink. She sat back to look at him as another clink occurred. Then another. And another. It sounded like tiles dropping off the wall into the tub and breaking apart, but as a piece of slate cracked and popped off his shoulder, she understood what was happening. Without delay, tears stung her eyes in hot, dripping streaks down her cheeks.

Quite literally, he was breaking out of his cocoon. He'd irrevocably changed and shed his old self to be with her. He'd picked her. Everything she'd dreamed, had wished for, had waited for, had come. After a couple seconds, all the grey stone had chipped from his skin and had piled on the bottom of the tub. A strong hand reached up to wipe away her tears. His eyes were dark and so loving and she loved him so much she wanted to scream to alleviate the push of it.

"Ino," he said, his voice a murmur, "don't fall apart on me."

She laughed at his joke, half-sniffling, as she smoothed the palm of her hand down his chest. "You ready to dry off?"

Together they stood him up, maneuvered him to the toilet seat, and Ino dried him with a huge fluffy towel. She left him a second to grab some pajamas she stocked for him; a pair of flannel pants and a plain white t-shirt. Once he was dressed, into the bed they fell, the darkness shrouding them with the quiet nighttime sounds and thud of the ocean. Both of them rolled toward the middle of the bed, and face-to-face, they linked their fingers together and intertwined their legs. They needed the physical contact; it was natural and unstated.

"I'll make you breakfast tomorrow," she said, unable to help herself from speaking aloud to him. "I can tell you haven't been eating."

His eyes slowly blinked. "Food didn't taste as good without you there to sweeten it up."

The generous compliment, the truth that shone in those words, preyed on her desire to please him. Tears leaked out again. Could she help it if she was overjoyed at having him with her, finally?

"Don't cry," he said. He wasn't commanding her, but trying to persuade her. "Please, don't cry."

"I can't help it. I'm so happy you're here."

She felt him breathe. "I know," he replied. "Me, too."

A long pause elapsed, where Ino controlled the tears and decided what to say next. "I'm sorry for putting you through that suffering."

"I deserved it for not noticing your efforts sooner. I resisted too hard." She thought she saw him smile. "I still can't believe you conceived all of this when you were six years old. How did it feel?" he asked, suddenly. "How did it feel knowing and believing and being so sure?"

Ino took care to craft accurate words. "When you looked over at me all those years ago, I felt like a light had turned on inside, a light that only you could turn on. I loved the feeling of being full of light, where everything I was was visible. You hooked me that day," she said. "I couldn't stop myself from pursuing you."

"But you were a child. Did you ever question it?"

Within the realm of their connection, she heard the back thought he had. He wanted to know about Chou. She swallowed because that whole part of her life had tracked her heart with wounds. To Yamato, though, she'd be ruthlessly honest.

"I…I did. I let what my father and others said affect me. They were able to turn my blind faith into a sort of…fanaticism, an obsession." She hesitated, but she'd promised herself to tell him everything he wanted to know. "I put how I felt about you to the side and allowed myself to make a regrettable mistake. Breaking Chou's heart was…the whole thing was a stupid waste of emotion. I've never been sorrier and sadder than when I realized I couldn't stop loving you and had to tell that to one of my best friends."

"Are you and Chouji okay now?" Before she could answer, there was a forceful pulse of thought as his brain connected to something. "I must've had you running scared for you to go to Kakashi like you did," he said.

She laughed- -he referred to the whole choke-out episode. When he'd left her behind, she'd tracked down Kakashi for help. "Yeah. I was terrified I'd screwed everything up…like I did with Chouji. I couldn't afford to lose you."

"How'd you guess that I'd see your painting and remember what the Third had said?"

"It was easy to see how you stored every tidbit of information the Third gave you," she replied. "You worshipped the man."

His chuckle was low and acted the rain to her desert-dry heart. "True." Then his turn to the serious overcame her through the mind-link. "And information wasn't the only thing he gave me."

In the dark, he leaned in closer, whispering now, an intimate exchange of words from his mouth to her cheek. The dark waters of his mind stirred, swirling with quiet dignity. "He was the one who gave me a name, gave me myself." He was so close to her, his breath was a hot sweep over face. She reveled in it. "You gave me yourself, and so much more. I can't give you much, but I can give you me. Do you understand?"

Was he…? God, yes, she understood. The world as she knew it shrank back; she couldn't breathe for the anticipation. His movement rustled the sheets and he positioned his mouth at her ear, his lips brushing and tickling. Ino closed her eyes, savored it, because though he hadn't told her he loved her in words, everything he did spoke of it, and she knew that with what he told her, the secret he'd harbored for years, so entrenched in his heart that not even Kakashi knew of it, was going to be hers, and just hers. The moment felt like forever but it was a second, a second that she would keep to her death and nothing would tear it from her.

He whispered his true name to her.

A/N: And so it ends. I intentionally left a few loose ends dangling, ie: Shikamaru & Chouji, plus the Konoha leak and the danger from Orochimaru's forces. I was thinking that there should be a sequel. Do you agree? Thanks to all those who've read and shared their thoughts and comments! You made writing the story well worth it. =)