Whumptober, Day 29 - Shikmaru/Ino

Prompt:All work and no play (“you’re still not dead”, too weak to move, overworked)
Fandom:Naruto
Pairing:Shikamaru/Ino
Rating:T
Words:738
Notes:Requested by @cinlat

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Dusk faded toward night, falling over the training field like a heavy blanket. Kunai, shuriken, and armor littered the ground. Shikamaru’s head hung down, sweat dripping from his chin and the disheveled hair that had come loose from his normally tight ponytail. Drawing air into his lungs sent sharp stabs of pain through his back. His legs and arms trembled as he pushed himself upright. “Again.”

Ino shook her head, tipping up her water bottle “No, you need to take a break. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Do it again,” Shikamaru hissed, swiping at the bead of sweat running into his eyes.

The pair had been at the training ground since midday, but Shikamaru wasn’t satisfied with the result. Half a dozen wounds riddled his body, a testament to the fact that he still wasn’t good enough. Ino looked better for the wear, but he knew that she hid it well. Shikamaru hadn’t managed to land as many hits as she had, but fighting shadow possession took a toll on the body.

The girl huffed out a breath and tossed the bottle to Shikamaru. He caught it on reflex as Ino sank to the ground. “I’m tired,” she complained. “We’ve been working at this all day.”

“And, I’m going to keep going until we get it right,” Shikamaru growled. “I’m not going to risk another failure in the field because we didn’t work hard enough.”

Ino tipped her head to the side, studying Shikamaru with those aquamarine eyes that seemed too knowing lately. “It wasn’t a failure,” she corrected, voice firm. “It was a death.”

Overwhelming agony swelled in Shikamaru’s chest as Ino scooted toward him without standing. She rested a hand on his thigh, moving until her gaze filled his vision. “Asuma died,” she repeated. “He died, and it wasn’t your fault. Overworking yourself to the point of death won’t change that.”

“If I’d been faster or better, I could have protected him. I should have–” Something swelled in Shikamaru’s throat, cutting off the rest of the words. He squeezed his eyes shut before the tears could start again.

Ino pulled Shikamaru against her, and for a moment he had a disorienting realization of how soft her body was. Then, her hand was rubbing his back as if that could remove the pain that lodged there like a kunai. “He gave his life for yours,” Ino breathed, voice tight with the emotions choking Shikamaru. “It was his choice.”

But, it wasn’t fair, the childish part of Shikamaru cried out, tantruming against the price that being a shinobi exacted. None of it was fair. Why did it have to be Asuma? Why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t things have gone differently?

There were no answers, only more questions that piled on Shikamaru’s chest like a stone. It compressed his lungs, squeezing them until every breath was a physical pain. Something brushed against his lips, breaking the cycle of impossible thoughts. Ino held the water there, tears shining on her cheeks. She offered a tenuous smile that didn’t touch the hurt reflected in her gaze.

Shikamaru raised a hand to take the bottle, but his thumb brushed the tears from Ino’s cheek instead. She exhaled in a jagged, broken breath. The echo of pain in her eyes somehow managed to make him more aware of the ache beneath his breastbone. But, it lessened the sharp prick of abandonment at the same time.

Releasing the tension in a breath, Shikamaru tipped his head forward to catch Ino’s lips in a first kiss that he’d never imagined until that moment. The tentative brush did something warm and explosive along his sternum. Ino squeaked and pulled back, fumbling the water in her haste. Cold splash across Shikamaru’s stomach as he scrambled to the side. He watched the puddle spread in the dirt, embarrassment replacing the pain momentarily.

Ino crouched a couple of feet away, cheeks flaming crimson. Heat crept up Shikamaru’s neck as he rubbed it with a damp hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

When Ino moved closer and raised her hand, Shikamaru tensed for a slap. Her fingers traced his cheek bone instead, triplicating the blush under his skin. Ino’s tongue darted across her lips, then she smiled. “Let’s give it a second try,” she chuckled, “without the surprise, this time.”

Before Shikamaru could answer, Ino’s soft lips were against his, and the world was spinning.