After weeks of deliberation, I’ve decided to ignore you guys completely and do what I planned in the first place. :D

It had been months since she’d heard from him. Ino had to admit; she was worried. There wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t have been a lonely invalid who went looking for some action before disappearing again. There also wasn’t any reason why he would still be alive after all these months. But Ino waited and hoped. He had told her that he’d come looking for her, and she believed him.

But knowing was always better than hoping, and Ino fully intended to take the edge off her fears sooner than later. It would’ve been much simpler with the Gondaime; Tsunade had always been an easy bribe if you knew what to bring. Still, Ino thought as she lugged a bottle of sake through the halls of the Hokage tower, it’s not like the Sixth is a teetotaler.

The Rokudaime peered around a towering pile of paperwork as she opened the door, his visible eye looking particularly dark and forlorn.

“You’re looking put out this afternoon, Kakashi-sama,” Ino said, resting an arm against his desk. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

He set down his pen and rubbed at a crick in his neck with one hand. “I am always happy to see one of Tsunade’s protégés in my office,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”

She placed the sake on his desk.

“I come bearing gifts.”

The Kage’s eye crinkled into a mischievous smile. “I see that,” he said, reaching for the bottle. “What sort of disreputable activities are you bribing me for this time?”

“I want you to look up an operative for me.”

The Hokage straightened up in his chair and gave her a serious look. “Ino…” he warned in ponderous tones. Everyone hated it when the Copy Nin used the sensei voice, especially Naruto. “I’m fucking next in line!” he’d shout. “Quit lecturing me like a genin!” And then Kakashi would ruffle his hair and get him even more worked up.

Ino cut the Hokage off before he could launch into the routine confidentiality speech. “I don’t want to look at the file myself or even know who he is,” she explained. “I just want to know his status.”

Kakashi settled back into a more comfortable slouch. “You mean, whether he’s alive or not.”

She shrugged. “Basically.”

The Rokudaime scratched his mop of silver hair, then gave her a cheery wink. “Well, I’m feeling particularly benevolent this afternoon, so I guess I could check up on your ANBU boy toy for you.”

“Thanks.”

He rifled through a drawer for a moment before glancing back at her. “You do know his identification number, right?”

“3984.”

The Hokage nodded and turned back to the cabinet. Minutes later, he surfaced with a classified file. He flipped it open carelessly and leaned back in his chair, his visible eye widening slightly as he read the contents. Finally, he glanced up at Ino.

“ANBU Operative No. 3984 is currently away on a mission,” he said, closing the file. “I don’t need to tell you that black ops missions are typically S-class or unranked with high mortality rates.”

“So, you’re saying that you have no idea whether he’s alive or not.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Ino rose from her chair and bowed to her Hokage. “If he does get back alive, would you tell him to come and find me?” she asked with a smile.

The Copy Nin nodded. “Sure.”

Kakashi watched her walk slowly out of his office and close the door behind her with a quiet click. He shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself as he put away the file.

Ino had stopped by one of the local bars for a bit of 'fortification' before heading home. It wasn't an establishment she visited on a regular basis, and she didn't expect to see anyone she knew. She was surprised when Kiba and Shikamaru came marching in with Neji in tow.

“What are you guys doing here?” she said, smiling in delight.

Shikamaru patted his old teammate on the back in greeting and took a drag from the cigarette that dangled from his lips. “We’re on a mission.”

“Yeah,” laughed Kiba, pointing a thumb at the Hyuuga. “To get this stiff drunk. This is a regular haunt of ours and the nearest bar we could find.”

Ino hopped off her barstool and went to captive shinobi. “You ok, Neji?” she asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He frowned at her. “What do you think?”

She laughed at his sour expression and patted him on the back in sympathy. “Come on,” she said to the other two. “Let me buy you guys a round for old time’s sake.”

“Hey thanks, Ino,” Kiba said with a smile.

She grinned back. “Anything to get Neji drunk.”

Smoke came shooting out of Shikamaru’s nostrils in a snort of amusement, and all three ninja followed her to the bar.

Kiba leaned against the counter as the bartender set down the fourth round. “So,” he said, squinting slightly and pointing a claw at Ino, “what’s a beautiful kunoichi doing alone on a night like this?” Shikamaru blew a thin stream of smoke into the air.

Ino threw an arm around both their shoulders and laughed. “Actually, I’ve got a question for you boys.”

Kiba fangs glinted as he smiled. “Shoot.”

She released Shikamaru temporarily to take a casual sip of her drink. “Do ANBU come to this bar frequently?”

Neji gave her a drunkenly leery glance over the top of his glass. “Why d’you ask?” he slurred, slumping against the bar.

“Just curious.”

"Ino,” said Shikamaru, snuffing his cig against the countertop and lighting another one, “you do realize that most Konoha jounin are ANBU, right?”

She raised an eyebrow and removed her arms. “Are you?”

All three men rolled up their right sleeves simultaneously, each showcasing his own spiraled tattoo.

Ino’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

Shikamaru pulled his sleeve down again and returned to his drink. “Exactly.”

“Have you ever had missions together?” she asked, intrigued.

Kiba rolled his eyes. “Ino, you can’t ask us that.” He glanced at the Hyuuga, who was currently melting into a drunken puddle against the bar, then leaned in with a confidential air. “I can say for sure I’ve never been on a team with Neji,” he muttered. “I’d recognize his holier-than-thou attitude anywhere.”

Ino laughed. “And what about Shikamaru?” she asked. “It’d be hard to mistake that ponytail.”

Shikamaru gave her an arch grin. “Who says I keep my hair up all the time?”

There was a chuckle and the scraping of a chair being pushed back from the other side of the room. “Being a little cavalier with secret identities, aren’t we, gentlemen?” said a mellow voice.

Kiba glanced over his shoulder to see who was speaking, and, suddenly, his face broke into a cheery grin. “I’ll be damned!” he laughed.

Genma approached them from the other end of the bar, smirking and weaving slightly, his senbon in its customary place of honor, and his own spiral tattoo just visible in the dim lighting of the room.

Shikamaru saluted him with his cigarette. “Well, if it isn’t Genma Shiranui, our very own Tokubetsu assassin.”

The special jounin bowed and swept off his hitae-ate in mock formality. “Konoha’s finest,” he said with a smirk. “Mind if I join you in your drunken revelry?”

Kiba gestured towards the empty barstools. “Take a seat. Next round is on you.”

Genma shrugged and pulled out a few bills. “Inuzukas are a clan of cheap bastards,” he said, handing the money to the bartender. Kiba growled at the insult, but he was too drunk to do anything about it.

Shikamaru did a lazy once over of Genma’s condition and took a drag at his cigarette. “Got into a bit of a scuffle, old man?” he said, blowing out the smoke in a small cloud.

Genma fingered his bandages absently and grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he retorted. His smile widened as he caught sight of Ino sitting on the other side of Shikamaru. “Hey, Nara,” he said, nudging the strategist in the ribs. “I was sure that you and the mutt would have scared all the beautiful women away by now.”

Shikamaru shrugged. “Women have a high tolerance for their old genin teammates. Don’t ask me why.”

Ino leaned back and smiled at the newcomer, her blonde hair dangling behind her.

“Hey, Genma.”

He smiled and leaned towards her. “Hello, Beautiful.”

Shikamaru shoved him backwards. “Shiranui, wait until I’m drunk before you start putting the moves on anybody.”

A few hours later, Neji and Kiba were asleep on the floor, Shikamaru had settled into a pleasant, impenetrable haze of alcohol and beer nuts, Genma was nursing what might have been his sixth pint, as sober as when he started, and Ino was rolling her unconscious friends onto their sides so they wouldn’t choke to death if they vomited.

“Hey,” she said, climbing onto an empty stool.

He turned and gave her a sloppy, seductive grin. “Yes, Gorgeous?”

“Your hair is falling into your drink.”

He looked down in surprise. “So it is,” he said, producing a hair tie out of some hidden pocket and pulling the errant strands into a wispy knot at the base of his neck. Ino reached up and hesitantly brushed the stray hairs from his face. He caught her fingers and kissed the tips flirtatiously.

“Genma,” she said, pulling her hand away, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“Anything for a beautiful lady,” he replied.

“I’m looking for somebody; an ANBU operative.”

The shinobi raised an eyebrow. “Why ask me?”

“Why not? Other than the bartender, you’re the only coherent person in this place. Plus, you’ve got that,” she said, pointing to his tattoo.

“Point taken,” he laughed. “Ask away. What sort of guy are you looking for?”

“Well, he isn’t a captain, but I’d guess that he’s been with black ops for a while, judging by the condition of his tattoo. I think he might be a specialist of some sort, like you.”

The assassin nodded. “There’s quite a few of us in the ranks. What does he look like?”

“Average measurements. Usual array of scars and such.” She paused when she noticed her companion’s amused expression. “This isn’t really helping at all, is it?” she asked.

He gave her a wry smile. “No, no, it definitely is. I’ve got it narrowed down a pool of about sixty guys.”

She folded her arms and hunched over the countertop. “Looks like I’ll have to track down each one, man by man.”

Genma laughed and raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and swallowed the rest of the beer in one gulp. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and brought the glass back down with a clink. “Do you remember any other particulars? Voice, hair, eyes?”

Ino waved a hand in the air. “His eyes were dark, like the other three-quarters of the population. And he had a voice distortion jutsu, so I couldn’t tell you what he sounded like. His hair was…” She raised her hand again and gently brushed away a few of the strands around Genma’s face, frowning slightly.

“What about his hair?” he asked.

“It was drawn into a ponytail.” She reached out and grabbed the knot of hair at the base of his neck. “Like this.”

“Hm,” he said, studying his empty glass.

Ino twisted one of the strands around her finger. “It was a lot like yours.”

The corner of Genma’s mouth quirked a little. “Was it now?” he said quietly.

“It was exactly like yours.” She dropped the ponytail and withdrew her hand.

Genma watched her out of the corner of a dark eye. She was staring at him, her eyes searching his face desperately.

“Ino,” he said, turning to her and frowning, “why are trying so hard to find this guy?”

“He said he’d find me again…” she replied, looking away and fingering the rim of her glass. “What if he’s dead? Or what if he lied?”

"He didn't lie," Genma muttered, starting on his seventh beer.

She pressed a hand to her eyelids. “I have no way of knowing."

"You certainly are taken with this guy," Genma said to his glass. "What if he comes back and he's not what you thought he was?"

Ino shook her head. "He will be," she said firmly. Her companion blinked in suprise, then set down his drink and rose silently from his stool. She didn't notice him come up behind her. "He was so…loving and…perfect when he touched me—”

There was a sudden, heavy pressure as the assassin laid a hand against her hip.

“Go on,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her ear. Ino gave a small yelp of surprise, then a sigh of pleasure as he pressed himself against her. He nuzzled her shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and nips all the way along her neck and collarbone. “Describe him for me,” he said, kissing the pulse in her neck.

“Genma…” she breathed, resting her head against his cheek.

He held her closer to him. “Let me help you remember, Ino,” he whispered and kissed the shell of her ear. “Start from the moment he touched you. Did he have good hands?” He ran his own possessively across her abdomen.

“Yes,” she sighed, leaning her head back against his shoulder as he caressed her.

“And what about his lips?” he murmured, pressing his to her jaw line.

“H-he…” she whispered.

He kissed the corner of her mouth to tease her. “What was that, Ino?” he asked.

She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. “He never gave me a real kiss.”

His lips were on hers in an instant.

Genma finally broke the embrace to pull Ino into his lap. He held her face in his hands, showering her eyelids, nose and cheekbones with kisses before finally bringing his mouth back to hers.

“I told you I’d come back,” he said breathlessly, resting his forehead against the crook of her neck. “I wanted to kiss you without my mask on. I wanted to see you.”

Ino ran her fingers through his hair and over his broad chest, feeling him to make sure he was really there. She rubbed a thumb across his lips before capturing them with her own, putting her hands behind his neck and pulling him to her. He smiled against her lips, amused by her boldness, then stood up and leaned her against the counter, positioning himself between her legs and deepening the kiss.

“Besides, I need a medic,” he murmured when they broke for air again, “That katana really fucked up my back. It’s still sore.” His arms wrapped around her and held her close. “Think you can help me?”

Ino pressed herself into his stronger, solid frame, burying her face in the front of his clothes. “You…” she whispered, and clung to him desperately.

He pulled back and gave her a crooked smile.

A/N: The end!

Writing that kissing scene was one of the most awkward experiences of my life.