Postscript

It's dark.

Of course that doesn't really bother him as someone who's spent the majority of his life bending shadows to his will. It's dark, vaguely empty and eerily silent but somehow it feels like home because he's not alone; she is sitting just a small distance away from him, waiting. Already, he can feel his tense muscles easing into a more comfortable slouch. He takes a step towards her and the movement catches her attention. They lock eyes for what feels like the first time in forever and she gives a soft, gentle smile.

"You're on time, even now. You could've been late just this once, you know I'd have forgiven you."

He feels the familiar tug at his own lips as he returns a lazy smile. It feels just like always, nothing's changed. He doesn't know why he ever thought it could be otherwise. He shrugs his shoulders and in slow, deliberate strides comes to sit beside her. He leans his forearms on his thighs and crooks his neck to look at her. There are questions dancing in her eyes, or maybe they're just reflecting his, he can't tell. It's been so long, so long since they've sat together like this and he just wants to look at her. Drink in her features and paint a mural behind his eyelids.

"You look good."

Another smile, then she sweeps a stray lock of hair behind her ear like he's seen her do a thousand times over. He'd forgotten how graceful her hands were, how all of her movements were always so poised and effeminate.

"You don't look so bad yourself. Someone must've been taking care of you, I know you can't look that good on your own, lazy bum."

She's right of course. She usually is when it comes to him. He rarely is when it comes to her; she's too unpredictable for even his strategic planning.

He nods.

"Someone has. Someone was. She tried."

"Was it Temari?"

She asks casually enough, but it makes his heart clench all the same.

"...Yeah."

"Good! Someone like that would do you some good. Tell me you were smart enough to marry her?"

He winces. She's so keen at times it's painful. And the fact that she's so candid about it only makes it hurt more.

"I did."

Marry someone who is not too ugly and not too pretty.

Temari had been happy enough, despite the difficulty of negotiating a dual-citizenship marriage. She accepted him, genius or bum. Successes and failures. It was enough for her.

"Kids?"

"Ino..."

"Oh come on. You couldn't be too lazy to give her some kids?"

He breaks eye contact with her, staring at the inky blackness at his feet. He doesn't want to talk about his children, not right now. Not with her. But he knows she isn't going to let it rest.

"A boy and a girl."

Have two children, first a girl, then a boy.

"Names."

His eyes snap back to her, eyebrows knitting unhappily as he searches her face for something - sadness, bitterness, anything - to give him a clue of what she's thinking. There's nothing. She was the one who was good at reading minds; he could always only guess.

"Ino, I always-"

"Tell me their names, Shika."

She'd always wanted children, always. He could still remember a twelve year old Ino enthusiastically telling him all about how she had just thought up the perfect names for the kids she and her Sasuke-kun would have when they got married.

He sighs, gives in. He doesn't remember her being this much of a masochist.

"Shikako and Yoshimaru."

Her poker face cracks ever so slightly, a fat tear running down her cheek before she can blink it away. He knew she would cry. She'd told him it was okay to move on, that she wanted him to move on, but he knew she'd cry when she found out he actually had. She's happy for him, and wistful, and probably angry at him too. He's envious she can feel so much at once, that she can have that much polarity in her emotions. He can only feel guilt.

And grief.

No more tears follow the first but he knows she's still crying on the inside, if that's possible. Her pain only magnifies his, and he feels the need to redeem himself. To make things right, even if that isn't possible anymore.

"Ino, about that day-"

"Don't."

"If I could do it over again-"

"Don't!"

"...I'm sorry. I've never been sorrier in my life. I never should have-"

He's pouring his heart out, words tumbling out and falling over each other, and all it takes is her small hand over his mouth to hold it in. He notices offhandedly that she still wears the glittering ring he got her. She blinks back some more unshed tears and smiles bittersweetly.

"It wasn't your fault, Shika. I never blamed you."

.

...

.

"No! Ino, hold on! I'm sorry. I didn't know that they- I didn't know! Please, hang on! Please."

She peeked at him through hooded eyes, a strange calm smoothed over her delicate face. An acceptance of the inevitable.

"Chouji?" she whispers, and it's almost lost to the sounds of battle all around them.

"He's helping set up for the ambush. He's okay. Just hold on. I'll call for Shizune or-"

"You're babbling."

He shuts up, face contorted by fear and desperation. She reaches and wipes a smear of blood from his cheek.

"You were right, we should have just eloped. An autumn wedding...what was I thinking? Half a year away..."

"Ino..."

"It's okay, Shika."

"No it's not. It's not! Don't go. I can't do this without you."

"You can. You will."

"No."

The moment is too fresh, too raw. He doesn't know how she can manage such peace and certainty in her words.

"You'll make it. You have to, you still have a dream to fulfill. Marry a nice girl. Have kids. Be happy."

"Don't say that! Don't give up. Fight it, Ino! Stay."

"It's okay, Shika."

.

...

.

Die before my wife.

He blames himself. He can never make it up to her; she was always too good for him but she had loved him anyway. He can never make it up to her.

He takes her hand away from his mouth and holds it in his, gripping lightly. There are so many things he never said; so many things he should have said, and it all just jumbles into a simple sentence.

"I missed you."

It's an understatement. Fourty years is a long time to miss someone. He's positive he would've gone insane if he'd been alone.

"And now you'll miss her."

The statement is so typically Ino he almost laughs. Maybe it's because she spent her life trying to prove herself that she always thinks people see her as second-best. He holds her hand a little tighter and they stand up and start to walk. She leads, he follows. As always.

"Do you have any regrets?"

"No. I'd do it all again. Stylishly."

She doesn't have to ask him the same question, his answer is obvious to both of them. The distance ahead of them grows bright with light as they walk on.

"Ino."

"Hmm?"

"...You really were the love of my life."

She walks a little closer to him, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

"And you were the love of mine."

And with those words, for the first time since he saw her last, Shikamaru feels at peace.

Fin

A / N : Fail. I'm losing my touch with ShikaIno.