Bandages
Shikamaru had never liked blood, not the sight of it, not the smell of it, not the feel of it. He supposed the aversion stemmed from an unfortunate event in his early childhood, when he had woken in the middle of the night to find his sheets soaked in it. Later, after the shock wore off, he discovered he'd cut himself somehow and hadn't noticed before he went to bed.
It's been proven that kids who experience trauma tend to carry the memory with them into adulthood whether they wish to or not. Shikamaru fit the bill down to the last letter, and it hadn't yet ceased to irritate the crap out of him. Knowing his flighty luck, that wouldn't change, either.
"God damn it," he swore in a tight voice, throat painfully constricted. "What the hell were you thinking, Ino?"
She didn't answer, but he wasn't expecting her to, not unless she had some sort of superhuman ability to will herself out of unconsciousness after she had already succumbed. When it came down to it, though, he preferred things this way. Bereft of the ability to abuse him verbally, his blonde charge was much easier to handle.
Patching her up required all of his concentration now, anyway. Doing two things at once was bad enough even without the blood, and he currently lacked for nothing in that department.
"Okay." He took a long, deep breath and let it out slow, urging his body to a state of calm. This was all in the mind, an irrational fear he had no choice but to ignore. He couldn't run, nor pretend the wound wasn't serious and could wait until they were back at the village. Granted, he hadn't the training of a medic, but everyone learned the basics, and he knew enough to at least cut off the blood flow. "I can do this. It's no big deal."
Gritting his teeth, he tore away the fabric that clung to her side like it had been glued there, exposing a gash that was about equal in length as his forearm, and just as wide. It bled sluggishly, as though it were being milked by each beat of her heart.
Shikamaru paused, squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
It was worse than he anticipated. The coppery odor seemed to linger in his nostrils, and it was all he could do to keep from heaving his guts into the dirt like someone who'd witnessed the detritus of a brutal slaughter.
"Stop. Stop, stop, stop." He shook his head, forced his lids back open. Breathe, you asshole. You're a Jounin. You've gotta do this. It's your responsibility. She's under your command, so you owe it to her to save her life.
But it was more than that.
If she died here...
No.
Another time, he'd think about their relationship, about what she was, about what they were.
She wouldn't die. He wasn't about to let her.
A grim determination seemed to settle over him as he pressed one hand over as much of the wound as it would cover, blood seeping between his fingers, and looked around for something he could use as a bandage.
He'd never realized how very little clothing Ino wore. Her skirt was too short; he'd need the whole thing to make a proper binding, and she'd run the risk of catching cold. Her sleeveless top--or what was left of it--presented a similar problem.
"Oh screw it."
Knowing his mother would give him hell later, Shikamaru quickly removed his hand from the gash and yanked both sleeves off his shirt, ripping them into strips. A few of the sections he folded into a pad and put it where his hand had been; the rest he wound about her torso to keep the pad in place.
Only after he'd finished did he remember to gulp some air.
"Well...that wasn't so bad," he lied, mopping his sweat-soaked brow. He felt the wet streak left behind on his forehead, but there was no point trying to get rid of it when blood was everywhere.
Allowing himself a brief reprieve to recover some of his sensibilities, Shikamaru gently gathered Ino's form into his arms and held her close, feeling rather protective all of a sudden.
"You scared me shitless," he murmured into her hair as he set a steady pace. "Don't ever do that again, you hear me?"
"Mmm."
Startled, he glanced sharply down at her face.
Her smile was wan.
"It wasn't on purpose, you jerk," she whispered.
In spite of himself, Shikamaru chuckled.
"Of course not. Nothing you do is ever on purpose."
If she had more energy, she would have smacked him playfully. Instead, she rested her head against his chest.
"Smart boy," she complimented before drifting off once more.
For some reason, those words made him grin the entire way home.
Holy cow. A Shika/Ino...I haven't written one 'o these in ages...(it's LJ's fault. XD This was for Alena S. Anigor, using the keyword "blood"). Hope y'all enjoyed!