Ino had been on countless delivery runs for the last few days, bundling bouquets in her arms and running across the village. The work wasn’t particularly tiring and it certainly didn’t stimulate her enough to take her mind off things—but it kept her busy and busy was good.

She climbed down yet another roof and gave herself a once-over—the bouquet was fine, her clothes weren’t wrinkled, and she wasn’t a mess.

Good.

Raising her fist, she knocked on the door and waited five seconds. She was going to knock again but it clicked open, revealing an old woman standing a head shorter than herself.

“Oh, are those the flowers?” she smiled.

Ino returned the smile, but it felt hollow. “Are you Mrs Miyazaki?”

“I am, young miss.”

“Then they’re yours.”

Ino offered the bouquet. The old woman stretched her hands out but stiffened. “Wait one moment. I left the money upstairs.”

“But, ma’am, you’ve already paid—” Mrs Miyazaki was gone before Ino could say another word. Basic decorum stopped her from crossing the threshold and following the old woman upstairs. She sighed. “... already paid for them.”

There was nothing she could do except wait for her to return. Thankfully, she wasn’t left waiting long and Mrs Miyazaki happily took the bouquet before fishing through a thick, weathered purse. She retrieved a single 1,000 ryo note so fresh that Ino could probably smell the ink off it.

“Here.”

“Oh, no, ma’am.” Ino clutched her hands to her chest. “I couldn’t take it—besides, you’ve already paid for the flowers.”

Mrs Miyazaki smiled and pressed the note into Ino’s hands. “I insist, my dear. It’s for the trouble.”

“What trouble?”

Instead of answering, the elderly woman closed the door, singing her goodbyes from behind it.

“Honestly.” Ino put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily—but she was smiling.

Her cheeks dimpled with an ease that she’d sorely been missing the last few days but after a few, blissful moments, the memory came back—the oppressive hatred returned—and wiped it off her face.

“Dear?” Mrs Miyazaki’s voice came from behind the door. “You’ve been standing there for quite a while now. Is everything alright?”

“Oh!” Ino flinched, her mind returning to the present. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, ma’am. Have a nice day!”

In two jumps, she was back on the rooftops, the village splaying out across her field of vision. It was only midday when she returned from the delivery and the village was busy at work as lunchtime approached.

Yamanaka Flowers only got busy in the mornings and the evenings. Between then, the shop went undisturbed, save for the frequent order run from previous days. Usually, her parents hired genin to do it, but Ino volunteered. It was tough work and was hard on her body but she needed to feel something.

The joint training events had left her numb after the fallout. The things she learned, the promise she’d made, it was too much but Ino refused to shut down. If she shut down and stopped moving, that monster would be the only thing she’d think about. She bit her lip and fiddled with her arm warmers, flicking her eyes around the various display plants.

“You’re back?” her mother walked to the front till. “How was the delivery, honey?”

She shrugged. “The same as usual. Mrs Miyazaki gave me a 1,000 ryo tip.”

“She gave me one as well,” said her father, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know what for—I’ve got nothing to spend it on—so here.”

Her mother took it and slipped it into the front of her apron. “I’ll be having that.”

The two of them agreed to Ino doing the deliveries on the condition that her father accompany her and while she would have preferred the solitude, her father was a comforting presence. He didn’t poke or prod—and she loved him for it. He humoured her requests to spar her every night, letting her tire herself out enough that the nightmares stayed at bay.

They caught up just before sunrise sometimes and when she opened her eyes, those demonic red eyes would linger.

“Take all my money, why don’t you.” Her father huffed and folded his arms. “You money-grubbing thing.”

Her mother smiled and tilted her head without disturbing the brown locks tied into a bun sitting atop her head. “Now, honey, don’t pout. It’ll wrinkle your forehead.”

“It’s fine. I wear my forehead protector all the time so no one will notice.”

Ino rolled her eyes but couldn’t help her smile.

They’d been like this since she could remember. When she was younger and they’d go out on family dates more often, she remembered seeing husbands and wives arguing and talking over each other. It was strange to her because her parents had never raised their voices at one another—not in her presence anyway, and if they had a problem, they talked it out calmly.

She was nothing like them.

If she had a problem she made it known, often by raising her voice. Her mother said it was unladylike and her father pretended to cower in fear of her rage. Her temper was a running joke in their household and that was another reason why she loved her parents so much.

But it was also something that she was incredibly self-conscious of and she hated the slight shrill to her voice whenever she lost her composure.

“Come on, you two,” said Ino, folding her arms. “We have more orders, don’t we?”

Her parents looked at each other, not managing to hide the concern in their shared gaze. It wasn’t the first time they’d looked at her like that—and Ino wasn’t surprised that they were. She knew she wasn’t okay at the moment and maybe she never would be. Perhaps returning to how she was before meeting the Nine-Tails was an impossibility, a daydream, and she’d continue with her life carrying that experience forever.

Right now, that thought scared her.

“We don’t have any more orders for today, honey,” said her mother. “We’ve got to prepare the rest.”

Her father patted his chest. “This is my last day off, so let’s make the most of it—how about a bit of familial competition?”

Ino blinked and, all of a sudden, she realised that it had been three days. Lord Third had been kind enough to give her father three days off—and while it wasn’t as long as the week afforded to Team 8, she was grateful to have him around when he’d otherwise be out till late.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Those three days were over now and he’d be leaving soon.

“Chin up, firecracker.” Her father placed a hand on her head. “Don’t look so down.”

“You know I hate that nickname,” she mumbled.

He sighed and Ino felt the vibrations of his exhale down his arm.

She closed her eyes and moulded just a little bit of chakra to comfort herself in his vast chakra reserves. It was like receiving a hug that encompassed her entire being. When the nightmares became too much, Ino extended her sense of perception to the room across from hers and touched her father’s reserves.

Like her, he was a sensor-type shinobi and did his best to extend her the comfort she desired when she reached out—like now—and didn’t push her for more. Because she’d extended her sensory range, Ino picked up on a familiar chakra that couldn’t be mistaken just by its sheer size—let alone the usual calm flow.

The ringing door slowly opened but Ino didn’t turn around, unsure of what expression she was wearing, but knew exactly who had stepped foot into the shop.

“Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Yamanaka?”

“Naruto. It’s lovely to see you again.” Her father stepped around her. “Look, honey—it’s our little hero. You didn’t get to see him before but he’s here now.”

“Indeed. Quite the handsome young man, isn’t he?” Her mother's smile was a little too smug for Ino’s liking. “We have a lot of thanking to do, don’t we? How about you stay for lunch?”

“Oh no. I couldn’t impose on you like that during working hours,” said Naruto. “I’ve come to talk to Ino, you see.”

“Ah.”

Ino felt the atmosphere shift.

“In that case, feel free to go up to my daughter’s room,” her mother said. “Come here, behind the till.”

Ino went on first and from the sound of it, Naruto followed her. They walked up the stairs to the building’s upper floors, where she and her family lived, realising with a start that Naruto was the first boy to see her room.

She stopped halfway down the carpeted corridor and without turning around, said, “Wait one sec. I’ll be right back.”

“Uh… okay?”

Her pace was brisk, but unsuspicious and, once inside, she took a moment to stare at her slightly flushed face in the wardrobe mirror before kicking up a storm. She cleaned up her cluttered desk, dashed her childhood stuffed teddy bear under the bed, and eyed the room for anything else before sticking her head into the corridor.

“You can come in now.”

Naruto came into the light spilling out of her room and now that they were out of the dark corridor. He’d taken off his shoes at the foot of the stairs but was dressed in combat gear for the most part. The light glimmered off the long-sleeved mail shirt underneath his plain t-shirt and she noticed his bandaged cargo pants were holstered on the sides of both legs.

Knowing him, he probably had two weapons pouches at his back as well.

“Did you come straight from a D-rank?” she asked, closing the door behind him.

He let her pass and she sat at the foot of her bed. “No. I came straight from training.”

“You train in mission-wear?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “if you get used to moving in gear, you’ll be more comfortable during combat.”

Nodding silently, she decided to start doing the same. Her sensei was pretty strict but even she hadn’t informed Ino of a particular dress code. Maybe it was one of Naruto’s unique quirks, like wearing weights. She looked at his wrists and ankles and, sure enough, he had a velcro band wrapped around each limb.

Before running into the Nine-Tails, she would have thought that doing things like training in mission gear and wearing wrist and ankle weights was too much. Being so helpless had made her painfully aware of one thing, though.

Ino never wanted to be that helpless ever again.

“Do you want to sit down?” she said with a sigh. “You’ve been standing at the door for a while now.”

He blinked and pulled a chair from her desk, positioning it in front of her. “...Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“So…”

“So,” he wrung his hands, “where do we start this?”

“I’ll start with a question. How long have you known?”

He sat up. “My whole life.”

“...How?” Ino asked, her stomach turning. “Did… did you meet the Nine-Tails?”

His face darkened. “No—I know what I am because of the villagers. Let’s just say my childhood wasn’t very fun and leave it at that.”

“Oh.”

Ino remembered the way people used to look at Naruto—they still did, but it was less hate and more fear even since he graduated. She didn’t know why they looked at him like that but never bothered to learn either. Knowing the reason why made her feel a lot more guilty and she managed to look at Naruto’s face long enough for it to gnaw at her.

“Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. “I don’t need pity. It sucked, but I’ve moved past it.”

She swallowed. “I… uh. Okay.”

“Any more questions?”

Ino shook her head.

“Then it’s my turn. How are you?”

She squashed the reflexive, “I’m fine”, forming on her tongue and looked into her lap. In the few minutes that they’d been in each other’s company, Ino had looked at Naruto’s face for all of five seconds. After finding out what he was, she saw things in his face that—quite frankly—terrified her.

His canines were sharper than normal people’s and when he smiled—he did that a lot when he was nervous—they looked like fangs.

Until a few days ago, she hadn’t known what the Nine-Tails looked like. There weren’t any pictures or paintings—just the memories of everyone who’d survived that night, including her parents. She once dismissed the whiskers on his as cute birthmarks—but what if they weren’t? What if the fangs and the whiskers and his freakishly strong body were all signs of the monster’s influence on him from early on?

The worst thing was that Ino liked him—his face, the whiskers, the way his sharper canines made his usually harmless smiles look mischievous. She liked him but was terrified of the monster inside him.

“I’m… not okay, Naruto. You have the monster that killed the strongest Hokage inside of you. It managed to somehow get through the seal the strongest Hokage made and...” She breathed in deeply, settling down with a quick, rattling breath. “...So, no. I’m not okay.”

“I understand,” said Naruto, his voice heavy with… with something she couldn’t recognise. Hatred? Guilt? Sorrow? She didn’t know. “Not being okay is fine, you know?”

“Feeling like this is okay?”

Naruto paused halfway through a nod. “Not exactly. It’s not a good thing, but it’s not bad that you feel the way you do.”

“I’m surprised you’re not worse,” said Ino. “You’ve had that thing in you since you were born. Everyone who lost anyone to it hates you for it—and that’s not fair.”

“Who said I’m not?” He levelled her with a gaze so… dead that it stopped her in her tracks. “Worse, that is. When I’m alone and I don’t have Choji or Hinata to prod at me,” he snorted softly, “or Shikamaru to bug me, I won’t lie, it gets to me. Do you know how terrifying it is? The idea that the thing responsible for killing my parents and so many innocents could smother my own free will if it breaks free?”

Ino pulled her lips into a thin line. “I’ve got some idea now.”

“Yeah.” He snorted. She looked up and he tilted his head, making the sadness in his eyes swim around. “I suppose you do, don’t you? So, what now? Where do we go from here? If you want, I can give you some space, and let you sort things out. I want to help, but my being here might make things worse…”

“No!” She nearly stood up and looked him right in the eye before averting her gaze—she couldn’t look at him without… without seeing it.

Admitting that to herself made her burn. He saved her from it and stood against the monster that even the Fourth Hokage couldn’t beat and she couldn’t look him in the eye?

“I…” She grabbed fistfuls of her skirt and squeezed until she could feel her palms through the fabric, tears pricking her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Naruto stretched his hand out.

Ino jerked back and then whipped her head up and widened her eyes so fast that the tears slipped down her face. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly as she tried to push the apology up her throat and out her mouth.

It wasn’t working.

The hurt on Naruto’s face lasted for an instant—just an instant—but she saw it.

“...Ino, I think some time away from me might do you some good,” he said, putting on a false smile—like the ones he wore during the first year of the Academy—and the pain in her chest almost made her stop breathing for a second. “Just for a little while, okay?”

He walked away, growing smaller in her vision and closed the door. She could hear her father’s voice from behind it but neither he nor Naruto were speaking loud enough to make out any words. Their footsteps grew distant so she drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins, and hiding her face from the world.

No tears fell from her eyes; instead, the frustration—the pain in her chest—grew and grew with no outlet for minutes. Ino’s breathing turned short and she scrambled out of bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror. It could have been seconds or hours, but she stayed still, staring at herself, unblinking and unmoving.

She was completely and utterly empty.