Ino/Chouji follows, followed by slight hints of NaruSaku and ShikaTema (only the slightest. Nothing concrete)

Disclaimer: Characters mentioned in this piece of fiction is borrowed and not claimed as mine own, sadly enough.

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It was a well-known fact in Konohagakure that the women of the Akimichi households were incomparable masters in the kitchen. Norika’s mother was no exception, though she was told that it hadn’t always been that way. Somehow, she couldn’t quite believe it, since she never remembered her mother producing anything but culinary masterpieces.

‘Oh it’s quite true,’ Auntie Sakura had once whispered to her conspiratorially. ‘When Ino married Chouji, she could barely boil water, much less make your daily five course dinner.’ And then mother had sharply rapped Auntie’s forehead and muttered something about at least learning how eventually, instead of relying on that yellow mongrel of a husband everyday.

‘Don’t listen to her, Rika-chan,’ Ino’d sniffed. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Mommy has always been the best cook in Konohagakure, right?’

‘Right!’ she’d chirruped back, and had received in return a cookie.

Later, when she was older, others told her of her parent’s first year as newlyweds. They said her father had lost twenty pounds all together during those initial twelve months, but her mother soon made sure he’d gained it all back within the following year. And now, no one could best Ino in the kitchen. When she retired from being shinobi, she took on cooking to compensate, but it became much more than that. For Norika’s blunt, unsentimental mother, the preparation of food became a representation of her love.

All of Norika’s family except Ino was tall and plump, a trait that she herself had inherited to some degree. During family reunions, her mother stuck out like a sore thumb. Despite having been an Akimichi for all of sixteen years, time plenty enough to catch up with her new family, Ino remained as trim and fit as the day she’d married Chouji.

‘It isn’t me that’s too thin,’ her mother often said crankily after a day of being petted and pinched and clucked over by the various Akimichi ladies. ‘It’s me being just the size I want. If anyone needs change, it’s Chouji. Your father would certainly be more handsome and much healthier, if only he would stop eating those potato chips so much.’

Her father, big and comforting, would only smile indulgently and slip out the door to finish his snacks while his wife glowered exasperatedly after him.

However, no matter how much Norika and her brother Yuji heard their mother harp on their father, never once had they seen her do anything about it. As Norika grew older, she realized it wasn’t that her mother was really angry and unhappy about father’s weight, but just another way of her showing affection in an unconventional way. It was like how every time Lee-san began rambling about youth and Tenten-san would whack him across the back of the head; some sort of old, familiar habit that only the two involved would tolerate. And no matter how much Norika or Yuji ate, their mother never chastised them like she did their father, though she did make them go for extra laps with Lee-san the following morning.

It was true though, that neither Norika nor Yuji were at the normal Akimichi weight. Even so, Norika was always the biggest girl in class, and that was always an excuse for being teased by the bullies. She was a patient child by nature, but only so much can be tolerated with patience. Her father discovered her one afternoon in her first year at the genin academy, curled up among her mother’s beautiful gardenias, tear-streaked. That night, she’d refused to eat dinner. Her mother had been furious, demanding what was wrong with her food, and seeing Norika burst into tears again, had stopped dead, looking bewildered and frantic.

‘It’s the other children,’ Yuji explained quietly. ‘They were teasing Rika-chan and calling her fat.’

Her parents had exchanged looks, and then her mother had stormed away from the table, whisking her dinner and plates away, which made her cry even harder.

That night, the kitchen door was shut tight. Norika fell asleep in her father’s arms, listening to the banging and clangs coming from the kitchen.

The next morning, her mother was waiting for her when she came down, and spread over the dining table was a minimalist’s fantasy breakfast. When Norika looked at Ino, round-eyed with astonishment, the tall blonde only dusted her hands off and smiled smugly.

‘From today,’ Ino announced grandly, ‘We will be eating healthy.’ Her father had turned pale, and both she and Yuji’s mouth dropped. Here, Ino’s eyes took on a fanatical gleam. ‘If my daughter wants to diet, then the entire family will. And for that matter, we will only eat soy products.’

Horrified, Norika had quickly assured her mother she felt no such need. Ino had taken a few more moments sadistically urging her family to dig in, before smiling and returning to the kitchen to bring out the real food. After breakfast, she took Norika aside and sat her down.

‘You aren’t ugly, or fat, or stupid,’ Ino said plainly, staring directly into her eyes. ‘You are the most beautiful little girl I know, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. And if anyone ever bullies you again, you do this to them and tell Iruka-sensei he still owes mommy that favor from that summer four years ago.’

Norika learned a mean sucker-punch that day.

And Iruka-sensei never seemed to notice.

It happened one day in Norika’s thirteenth year that her father came back from a week-long, A-class mission unconscious and bleeding heavily from a deep slice across his abdomen. Almost as soon as he was instated into the hospital, a fever added itself to his list of injuries.

For two days he slipped in and out of consciousness. On the third, he stabilized, but was told to stay on a nearly all-liquid diet and keep to his hospital bed.

When Uncle Naruto brought him back home, he seemed like a different person. Norika was astonished at the change wrought in her father. In the hospital, she hadn’t really noticed, but now, standing in the doorway, wearing his usual clothes that for once seemed miles too large, and a smile on his thin, tired face, she realized just how awful he looked. She wondered how her mother could ever want a skinny, lean father. He wasn’t handsome at all; he looked like a skeleton.

There was a clatter from behind her, and she turned to see Ino white as a ghost, her apron around her waist, the spatula on the floor. For a long time, the housewife only stared at her husband in complete silence, prompting Uncle Naruto to cough nervously and make some silly joke about hospital food. Tight-lipped, Ino had spun around and wordlessly entered the kitchen, slamming the door hard enough for the impact to reverberate through the floor. Chouji had sighed heavily and wobbled slightly, enough that Yuji and Norika rushed forward to help him to a seat.

Dinner was announced; the sounds in the kitchen abruptly went silent. When they were finally called to the table, it was to be greeted by a vast array of Chouji’s favorite foods.

‘You have to eat to regain your strength,’ Ino said matter-of-factly, twisting her hands nervously at the kitchen door. ‘How can you work if you can barely support your own weight?’ Chouji stared at the table, then at his wife, and was speechless.

‘Eat,’ she ordered brusquely, pulling out her chair erratically and sitting down. ‘Hurry up, before it gets cold.’

No one obeyed, but their father walked over to his wife, pulled her out of her chair, and embraced her tightly. Yuji and Norika quietly left the dining room, just as their mother began crying softly.

It wasn’t long after that Ino began teaching Norika her recipes and methods. Like in all other aspects, she did not go easy on her training. A number of times, Norika wondered how her father and Uncle Shika had been able to put up with her mother’s nagging. The only difference was that while Uncle Shikamaru moved to Sunagakure, Chouji had married her.

Even so, Norika worked hard at her mother’s instructions, slowly learning an entire sixteen years worth of cooking skills.

‘Even though our ingredients may not be perfect,’ Ino tells her nearly every day, ‘we need to make the best of it. You’ll learn soon that though this begins with simple, indifferent elements, you can make what you want with it. The end result will be a reflection of the care and dedication you give to it; sometimes, you might be surprised by the sweetest taste that comes from the most ordinary of vegetables.’

By then, Norika wonders if her mother was still talking about food, but then, her father would return from work, and Ino would turn to him, smiling brilliantly and demanding he throw away his bag of chips.

END