To Guest: I sure did try to make it worth your while. ^_^ Thank you for your review! :D To know that you like my story means a lot to me. :)

It was extremely difficult to sit down and finish this for various personal reasons. I'm sorry for the wait, my dears. For most of you, this might be the last time we meet so let's make the best of it, shall we? :) It's a long chapter with a non-linear narrative, so buckle up. More importantly, enjoy my dears! ^_^

-X-

Eating had been her ritual of silent chewing and its weighed implications for too long. Ino Yamanaka had sliced through it, avoided it, calculated it too often. When Dr Morino, Shikamaru or Sakura spoke of her weight, they spoke of victory. Health. Better. Bigger. She still cringed, thinking it was a failure, a loss that she needed to accept. Her father never spoke of it. It was a routine for him, for them. His watchful gaze would slide through her still hesitant, his promises and his actions still mismatching. She let her hands rest against the counter, her fingers drumming beside the plates.

He didn't say a word when she started cooking. Ino pinched her lips, out of habit rearranging the plates so they would align perfectly.

"It smells good," he said, kissing her cheek. "How was your day, honey?"

Inoichi Yamanaka did the same thing yesterday. And the day before. Briskly, she opened the cupboard for the glasses, her hands shaking slightly.

"Good. And yours?"

"Good," Inoichi shouted from the living room.

Every step was still tightly encased in a scenario and all the things Ino had learned to let go would resurface, pulling at her insides whenever she sat in front of her father at the end of the day. Did she cook the meat right? Was it to his liking? Did she forget the pinch of salt? Was it perfect?

She sat in front of him, her questions too polite. Inwardly, she grimaced, nudging herself, calling herself a coward. They were still guarded, unable to read one another. Her fork would follow familiar patterns on her plate whenever the silence would fall back into place. The table seemed longer, pressing against her stomach, her fork heavier. Him barely glancing up. Him barely acknowledging the promises he knew he couldn't keep.

Ino almost wished he would watch her like a hawk, the way Sora Morino or Chouji's mother did to make sure she ate. At least, she would know he cared then. That he also cared about her mother, bony and sick, the garden and how it happened to her too. Living with him was a prolongation of the discussion they had about Sasuke, what she needed to do to make his job easier. As a father, but mainly as a sheriff.

The light flickered above the table, the sounds of cutlery resting against plates, wet gulps and chewing. Ino paused, watching him. It had stopped bothering her without her noticing it, the chorus of chewing sound, the calories she could guess in each plate. She could stomach mouthfuls for both herself and others. She hadn't noticed until now.

She kept watching him like she had watched herself. Inoichi Yamanaka pushed his plate away, briefly smiling to her before reaching for the newspaper on the counter.

Silence engulfed them both, unshakeable, until she couldn't take it anymore.

Her fork clang against her plat and he looked up, startled, blinking at her pinched expression. They had never spoke across a table, she noticed that. There was a gravestone, another garden, years out of touch sitting in the howls of the house. She couldn't only blame him because she had agreed to be part of it. Years ago, she had accepted it, took the silence for granted because it meant she could move away and never look back. She had left him behind when she had yearned for the cries of a crowd, the big city and its lights. When the silence had weighed her down, sorrow and grief unable to tie her to her father's promises. When the same silence that had threatened to break her against the memories of her mother floating out of reach, amidst dolls that were always in order on her vanity. Perfection. All her life she had run from one slice of perfection to the other, holding on to the bits her mother had given her, to the podium she had fallen from and left for her. It had been a mistake. She clenched her teeth, pushing her chair back.

He should have been there. He should have noticed. All her life, she had cared about others, looked after them in ways because she was unworthy of attention. She had forgotten herself in others, support them, never let them go while she had let herself fall, be crushed. She wished she had had someone to look after her when she was too busy looking after everyone else.

She wished she still didn't care too much. She wished her first appointment with Dr Senju had revolved around her and not the friends she had found in Konoha. She wished she was worth of attention, spotlights and applauds. Of him finally looking at her while talking about imperfection and the garden.

"Ino?" Inoichi stammered and she boiled. "Everything alright?"

"Do you miss mom?"

The venom rest against her tongue, cold and unruly. Her knuckles turned white. She could bolt, explode and yell the words that weren't engraved on her mother's tomb. They spun in her mind and she watched him, panting.

Was the garden futile? Did flowers stop blooming for him when her mother died? Did he lose hope? Did he simply give up like she did? Was it what it was about? Hope fissuring and refusing to bloom for both of them? Tears stung at the corner of her eyes, but he still wouldn't move or speak. Frowning, he watched his plate, pushing his food around, refolding his newspaper. His gestures were controlled, her breathing hissing, detonating in her head. His promises sounded hollow to her ears and she inwardly walked back through time. She searched for the clues; when did it shift? When did he stop caring, believing in actions and words he now had to force out? Ino choked on a sob and he had retreated within himself.

He didn't flinch. He blinked, shifting uneasily, unsure how to reconcile her. Unsure how to reconcile them.

Ino had no way of knowing if it were perfect now that the silence was broken, her grief oozing out of her rebuilding body. Now, that she was noticing things outside of her body and he still wouldn't look at what was inside her. She had to believe the chaos of Shikamaru and her family were perfect in their own ways, but she felt like a child. She shouldn't have to. She should be as easy as reading Sora Morino's book and sliding into Shikamaru's arms. It should be easy. If perfection had almost killed her, imperfection should be like breathing, letting go and turning away from the control that had moulded her rigid and bony. After all, how could she believe in rebuilding everything, replanting every flower, if her father didn't bother to say it?

It was important.

It was perfect.

"I missed the garden," Inoichi said finally and she glanced up, tears still spilling, betrayed and angry. Her mother couldn't speak for herself, dead, thin and obsessed with perfection as she was. "Thank you for bringing it back."

Inoichi rubbed his eyes looking out the window at the sprouts titled by the breeze on the darkening sky. He walked past her, his slender form awkward while her body shook. Distantly, Ino felt his hand at the top of her head.

Speaking the truth hadn't brought the words she had expected, but now she knew of desert flowers that bloomed no matter what, chaotic colours that were worth more than perfect organized outfits because they could speak louder. She knew she could rebuild things. Herself. Her family.

More importantly, she now knew of hope and second chances. But she didn't want to be the only one trying.

The stairs creaked under his relief she had expected didn't wash over her; the truth wasn't liberating the way Tenten had mentioned. She pushed her plate away, bile rising to her mouth. There was nothing perfect in imperfection.

For every word they didn't utter, Ino distanced herself a little more from her father. Piles of ruins. Mountains of tears. She was imperfection and tears, gliding, hoping, in the middle of their creaking house of silence. And those words pounded through her. And they died in her.

She didn't want things to end like that.

She flipped her phone open, dialling Shikamaru's number in a petrified daze.

"Hey, it's me, can I come over?"

-X-

Perfect Imperfection

by Clementive

This ending is dedicated to the ones who stood up for me, this story and my minor characters. It is dedicated to the ones who accepted this story as what it was: a multi-pairing angst romance story and didn't try at each turn to have me change it into a ShikaIno centric smutty romance. You deserve my ending this story. You can recognize yourself, I think, so one last time: thank you. Thank you for making me believe this story was worth writing. Without you, I would have abandoned this story long ago. -XXX-

-X-

Ino thought she was still the child who thought the world disappeared whenever she closed her eyes. She bore her tantrums in her bones. She ran away from imperfection, her fists clenched. She felt silly, the trace of her father's cold lips still lingering on her skin. In her family, everything important was in the way they did things. The way they make promises. The way he looked at the garden. The way he carried himself between his sheriff shifts. She wondered how he could walk but then her mother's cadaver wouldn't weigh much. Her memories wouldn't drown him. She would have been easy to let go of.

Ino disappeared under the blanket and Shikamaru painted.

She thought if she lay long enough, she may never have to stand again. She would let her garden whiter until he could say that he missed her. She remembered her mother empty and stiff, bony and edgy whenever she spoke. Her mother had been made of restraints and she wondered if that was her father remembered. What he could never miss. Ino breathed, listening to the hard strokes of his brushes on the canvases. Her warm breath stuck to her face, the woven fabric of the blanket clinging to the curves of her body. She didn't dare move, her heavy limbs spread across the bed, unattended and discarded.

It felt good, freeing, the spotlight entrapped in the tight threads of the blanket. She could rest. She could take her time.

Ino wondered if it would always be like that now that the pit within her was gone; the scent of paint and tobacco hanging in the air, her body heavier yet drifting. She wondered if every day of letting go would feel the same, a prison of blankets and her own breath kissing her mouth and neck.

"I could be watching clouds," she muttered, blinking at the light passing through the threads of the orange blanket. She could be him, years from now just like he could be her, tomorrow. Tonight.

The mind and the voices it bore weren't a choice. They happened. They collided. No one was safe, with or without a wrapped comfortable blanket between them and the world. She shivered.

"But you aren't," came the muffled lazy reply.

They could be anyone as long as they let them go. As long as they let themselves fall, even if they only tumbled for now. It was an art they would learn in time.

"What are you painting?"

"Why don't you take a look?"

"I wouldn't want to be peeking at your private collection."

Her pale eyelashes brushed the fabric and she heard his brush hesitated on the canvas. Ino learned Shikamaru was full of straight lines and lingering shapes. He made them stand with lazy strokes. He made shadows live. She smiled softly, repeating it to herself, weighing the shadow she had once been.

"I guess I will have to paint another portrait of you, troublesome woman, for you to let go of that one. Before you ask, yes, that's genius talk for: I'm sorry but you should seriously consider dropping it."

Ino heard the smirk in his voice and she closed her eyes, drifting still.

"I will consider it, then."

She heard Shikamaru fumbled with a cigarette, the scent thickening in the room.

"Better not destroy it, this time."

"I will let you keep it, troublesome man. I will be hanging your portrait in my dorm room like those old Renaissance egocentric portraits, you know? I'll tell everyone you're an undead creature obsessed with shadows."

He paused again, the rustle of his shirt leaning towards soft chuckles. Ino shifted in the bed, rising under the blanket so it would fall off at her feet. Not yet. She vowed to herself it would be soon, so she didn't move. His hands on her body would be different from his eyes lingering on it, she knew.

She remembered the last look she gave herself when she came back to Konoha, the billboard and the child pointing at her. They both still haunted her.

"Have you told your father you are going back to school?" Shikamaru hesitated, feeling the paint already hardening dry and uncomfortable on his hands.

When things were falling apart spilling her imperfections across the mirrors and her pictures she soon learned to avoid, she had clung to the lacerated hole in her stomach. Now that it was gone, she clung to everything else. Every sliver of the ones that have come to matter. It wasn't as frightening as she had thought. It was as painful but she had discovered she could stomach it. She could eat and accept the pain. She could eat instead of surviving and she could do so without having to add layers to cover the cracks that still showed. She could accept it, take it for what it was: living, her trapped breath beneath a blanket.

She could accept imperfection. Her father's silence changed that.

"Ino?"

His silence, his absence and his promises told her it was her fight and he didn't want to hear her struggle. Maybe he couldn't. It didn't make any difference for her: he was simply never there.

She pushed the blanket away from her face, her hair wildly falling across her naked chest as she rolled on her belly to look at Shikamaru's new painting.

"Did I tell you about the new flowers I planted in my garden?" She asked instead propping herself up on her elbows. "It's full of promises," she added dryly and he slowly turned back towards his painting, the smoke hiding his expression.

"Meaning it patted you on the head?"

"Meaning you better never promise me anything if you can't deliver." She pushed her hair back, her blue eyes hardening, tracing the slump quivering lines of his shoulders as he kept painting. "Meaning I'm sick and tired of hearing words and seeing nothing but passivity."

He had watched her and people in general long enough to know how they drifted and grounded themselves.

"Don't do this to me," her lips quivered and he set his brush down. "I'm very tired, Shikamaru."

"I'm not as lazy as I wouldn't know how to take care of my girlfriend. I don't need tips."

He said it with enough strength that she knew he was talking about them. With enough conviction that she knew she could lay back and float away, drowsy from the smoke and paint. And him. He would join her later on.

"But hey, Ino, things will work with your dad. Give it some time. No one wanders forever."

Because there was no greater imperfection than the shadows that devoured them and set them free.

Because there was no greater perfection than the way they loved, laughed and grew up breeding those shadows.

Because if there were shadows there was light.

He didn't say anything, the words sloppily rising inside him; she would have to figure it out for herself.

"I know. One day, he will be done patting on the head."

He rose his hand back, the nip of the brush dipping. Blue smeary lines snaked down the canvas. He let them just as he let her turn back towards the ceiling, towards painted reddish clouds without distinct shape.

"Actually, what I meant is he loves you."

The strokes of his brush softly added layers to the water, tracing the shadow of a pond.

-X-

6 hours before Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki's wedding

Ino sat on the edge of the scale in Dr. Kurenai Senju's office, rubbing her palms against her thighs. She thought if she kept moving, she wouldn't have to pause and think about ticking clocks and change, how everything blended together, unbalanced. She didn't want to think about the last time she had been here, facing the calculations her psychologist could enunciate with an unwavering gaze.

Because then she wouldn't have to admit being afraid of letting go and letting herself fall.

"Do people die from not talking?" Ino interrupted her rubbing, frowning at the manicured nails she had had made for the wedding.

She had expected them to be ruined from the hour she spent in the garden, but they still gleaming under the artificial light in a soft pink that matched her dress.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking, Ino," Kurenai said slowly, tapping her pen on her notepad. "We haven't met in a long time, why don't you tell me about your work at the hospital? Dr Morino mentioned there was progress in your eating habits. Why don't you tell me about that."

Ino scowled. She wanted to talk about her father. She wanted his life, his silence, dissected until it was a number she could handle, a weight she could understand and fight.

"If I didn't speak of it," Ino said rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, "would I die? That's my question: how much can you hold in before you pop?"

She loudly deflated her cheeks for emphasis and Kurenai's fingers stiffened around her pen. Between the turquoise couch, the scale and her red gaze, Ino could feel her past and present selves simultaneously crossing their legs and waiting over patched scars of skipped meals. The clock still ticked between them. Wether it was about Deidara pointing his objective at her or Shikamaru leaning in to kiss her for the first time, her legs had been crossed, a pleasant smile on her lips. How long she had waited for people to speak up about her perfection, draw her, snap a picture of her? She wanted to talk about that, now that she had decided to stop waiting.

Now that she had taken Tenten's words for granted and told the truth, but still didn't know how to handle it.

Now that she knew things weren't as distinct as perfect and imperfect and that she could try to live in the middle.

"What makes you think I have that kind of answers, Ino?"

"You're the psychologist, you tell me," she shrugged, locking glance with her.

She wanted it all to mean something, now that she had crossed the finish line. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze shifting towards the books aligned on the shelves. There had to be answers.

"I'm flattered, but I'm not God. I'm not full of answers."

"What does your diploma mean, then? You can call me a nut-job and it's all ethical?" She snorted.

"No. No one is calling you a 'nut-job' in this office and psychology means is I can help you find your answers without giving you mine. This is up to you, not up to me," she said slowly, chewing her bottom lip.

"Just fucking great," Ino growled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You have to start somewhere, Ino."

Listening to her inward voices had never ended well. They whispered nothing but calculations of symmetry and weight. How could she trust herself if she had listened and fallen because of it? There was a tempest in her head and everyone around her still insisted she held answers. Shikamaru, Kurenai, Sora, Sakura, Tenten... They all trusted her when she didn't know if she could be trusted. If she ever could. She knew what would happen if she were to be left alone with a scale.

"And where would that be?"

Kurenai tapped her pen more forcibly on her notepad before leaning forward. Her pen pointed at the scale's arrow trembling with each of Ino's shifts.

"Let's start with this then: Are you going to stand on the scale?"

Her chest burnt, her breath caught at the back of her throat. Wherever she looked, there was the dread of going forward. There was the dread of going back. She couldn't trust herself with answers, let alone with change and scales. Numbers jolted around her, circling her thighs, enhancing her fading cheekbones.

They stared at one another, the silence tensed, pulsating between them. Ino was sitting on everything she had dreaded the most for the past four years. Forward, backward. It was all about numbers.

She wanted to talk about family therapy that was supposed to work better. She wanted to talk about her father who was still in denial about her, about her mother and everything else he could erase with misplaced promises. He preferred to let them hang between them, contemplate the garden and call it moving forward. Because in each of his promises, he begged for silence and she couldn't take it anymore. Forward, backward. She wanted it to be about words and action, not about numbers.

"I want to talk about my father."

She could start there, where it really began.

-X-

There had never been a door between them. She floated and Naruto grounded her.

Sakura Haruno leaned her forehead on the door, the brush of the fabric on the other side of the door restless. Her dress pooled at her feet, silk brushing her legs as she shifted and leaned her back against the door instead. Clacks of porcelain echoed in the distance. It was as if they were building their day, their future one plate at the time. They built the rest of what they had already built for themselves, adding layers, removing the cracks that hadn't shown in years. They eased off every piece they ordered into the white wedding she had always dreamed of.

Her gaze fell on the pot of petunias Ino had placed on the vanity when she first arrived.

Sakura wanted to block everything out and sit amidst the chapel, her hand in his. Together and alone. Every flower, plate and piece of silk was meant to reflect their happiness. But they were more than that, she meant to tell him. They would be more than a mere reflection.

"I have the plane tickets, the ring... my cell phone. Did I forget something?" Naruto muttered to himself and she smiled to herself, aware of Tenten slipping out of the room by the other door to give her some privacy. "Sakura, did I forget something?"

"What about the suitcases?" She whispered back even if she knew he had put them in the car before he left last night to his bachelor party.

His breath hitched, his knuckles drumming quietly on the door.

"They are in the car. You took care of the sunscreen, right?"

"Yes."

Sakura smothered her satin skirts, the diamond of her engagement ring shining. Just this once, it was about them.

"And the instant ramen?" He whined and she heard him shifted from one leg to the other.

"I took them out of the bags."

"Sakura!" Naruto shouted but she could hear the grin in his voice.

She flattened her palm on the door, bitting her lip so she wouldn't laugh. There was nothing more reassuring than the way he moved, briskly and incessantly. The loudness of his breath, the hammers of his shouts had brought her to him, out of her room, back to class. When each thought thickened and choked her, he was all she heard.

Before they started dating, Sakura kept going back. She kept retracing in her mind every mistake, every word, that should have made a difference but didn't. He showed her there was nothing but a way forward. He showed her she didn't need to look over her shoulder when what mattered lay in front of her. Because Naruto Uzumaki never believed in a past that should have chained to his parents' graves the way Neji did. The way Sasuke did. Neji turned around. Sasuke didn't.

Then, there had been her.

They had been loud. Together. Over and over, they had shouted each other's name in hallways, laughed broadly, hit harder in their respective sport team, aimed higher. Their joy, pain and anger had echoed loud. Deafening. It had been how they knew they were right where they belonged. In the madness of things that were uttered and forgiven. He made her believe in herself. He made her believe in the present they shared, in the future they were yet to share.

"Everything is going to be all right. Can you believe that, Naruto?"

"Yeah... I'll make you happy. I never go back on my words and-" He replied quickly.

"You should say that in your vows instead, Naruto," she blushed faintly, smiling to herself.

"Okay, okay, so I will see you on the other side, then. Neji is probably and stiff and murderous. He says it's against traditions, but we have never cared about traditions, have we, Sakura?" His tone took a suggestive tone and she blushed a deeper shade of red while Naruto laughed loudly.

"Naruto, you better not tell him that!"

Her heart beat hammered in her chest and warmth worming inside her. She hated the door and everything it kept from her at this instant. Naruto's laugh rolling down his throat, the brush of his fingertips against the strands standing low in his eyes, the heat of his skin and his breath. Sakura sucked in a breath, dizzy from the flowery scent in the changing room.

His cell phone buzzed and she stilled catching a glimpse of herself on the mirror. Ino would return soon to finish her make-up. Lately, she had done things half-way, she had hidden behind half-truths. It wasn't how they did things, she ought to remember. It wasn't how Naruto and her had gotten together.

Between them, there had never been halves, silvers of unsaid things and she didn't want to get married any other way. When Naruto asked her to be his girlfriend he asked her if she were 100% in it. He asked her the same when he dropped on his knee in the fanciest restaurant he could afford; if she wanted to be 100% Sakura Uzumaki.

She said yes. She needed to keep saying yes because that was who they were. Together.

"Ok, I really need to go now, the best man is now calling me. And you would think that Tenten would have removed that stick up his ass. Well, see you on the other side, he's threatening me to come pick me up now."

"Naruto, wait," she clutched her eyes closed. "I know sometimes, you wonder what would have happened between us if Sasuke had stayed-"

"Sakura."

"Let me finish, Naruto," Sakura breathed out picturing him clenching his fists as Naruto always did whenever he worried about something. He had always took everything heads on, fearing pain but ready to shoulder it. "You're my best friend, you always were there for me. I misjudged you so many times... and you didn't," she laughed nervously, she looked up battering her eyelashes so she wouldn't cry. "I love you. I'm not marrying you because you stayed and Sasuke left. I'm marrying you because you were always there for me and I will..." her voice quavered, her stomach knotting. "I mean, if you let me I will do the same for you from now on. Even if sometimes I can't help think of him because he is part of my past, I choose you. Today, I choose you because I will choose you again and again and... I'm marrying you because I love you, not because he left. This is us and that is him. Can you believe me, Naruto?"

Her blood hissed in her ears and her hand fell onto the doorknob. It trembled, the hum of the silence deafening in her head. Maybe she hadn't been clear enough, her babbles, munched and condensed.

"Naruto?" She squeaked out. "Are you still there?"

Then, she felt pressure in the doorknob even if the door didn't budge. Sakura breathed out sharply, relief washing over her. Her head pounded, her knees weakening.

"I wish I could kiss you, right now. I hate traditions."

She imagined him puffing his cheeks, a firm pout on his lips just like the one he had when he left for his bachelor party.

"I will see you on the other side," Sakura smiled, her fingers hesitantly touching the corner of her eyes as not to smear anything.

"Not if I see you first," Naruto chuckled, drumming his knuckles on the door before spinning on his heels.

She heard his loud voice retreating as he spoke with Neji on the phone. Slowly, she approached the vanity, returning to her place in front of the mirror. She was still smiling, the curve of her mouth soft and pink. Loud and liberating. She wrote those words in her vows.

There had never been a door between then and there didn't need to be one. She ought to add as much, she thought, her hand reaching for the pen in the drawer.

-X-

5 hours 40 minutes before Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki's wedding

Ino leaned back against the scale its bar falling uncomfortably in the middle of her back. The sound of the arrow balanced out her hesitation. There was no answer in truth, unlike what Tenten sought. Clenching teeth, she stared at the clock on the wall. She still had a little less of 6 hours before the wedding.

"How old were you when you got married?"

She wanted to talk about that too: Sakura getting married before she did. She wanted to rewind it back to a point in time when they spoke of weddings and princes charming without worrying about the restraints of reality. She was comfortable with the 'then'. The Ino Shikamaru and Chouji looked forward to play with. The Ino who knew more about boys than Sakura. She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at the clock.

"26," Kurenai said, beating her annoyance on her notepad. "Stop glaring at that clock, Ino, it still won't make our hour shorter."

"I think 22 is young."

Ino pressed her lips together, standing up abruptly. Without glancing in the direction of the psychologist, she made her way to the window. Men and women hurried, briefcases, shopping bags swinging by their sides. She could be any of them now. She didn't stand out anymore; too thin, sick, pale.

She was a normal size, part of the wave. Normalcy was erasable. She would lose herself on campus, meet new people with whom she would laugh and study and the past four years of her life wouldn't seem to make a difference. There was no trace left of what she had done to her body. Somehow, she still hoped there was. Somehow, she still hoped for another ending: catwalks, Kin's throaty laughter and pricy dresses she could wear without owning.

Her stomach rumbled and Ino tensed. She had always like to stand out of the crowd, be the centre of the attention, heads whipping in her direction. But what if they had looked at her in disgust instead of admiration? Pity instead of envy? 'What the hell happened to you, troublesome woman?' Ino could tell from pictures, the hollowness of the bones looked more empty than attractive. She hadn't seen before, the illness she carried within the way others had. She had been feeding on glances snuck her way for too long.

"Ino," Kurenai said tightly, her glance searching hers in her reflection. "What is this about? Are you getting married?"

"Remember when I told you about Forehead-girl?" Ino asked flatly, playing with a curly blond strand. "She can't even do her own makeup. She's waiting for me to soften and erase that big forehead of hers."

Her movements seemed surreal spread in a reflection across the movements of the pedestrians below, her mouth rounding around her clipped voice. Ino clenched her jaw, refusing to meet her eyes, instead she looked for the shadows Shikamaru would have painted.

"I thought we were past that," Kurenai said after a moment of silence. "We agreed to name things and people for what and who they are, yes?"

She frowned again, pressing her pen to her right temple. Ino laughed, shaking her blond locks across her shoulders. They bounced back into perfect curls and she thought of Sakura's perfect dress. Perfect wedding. Perfect husband. She finally glanced back at Kurenai, a sad smile tucking her lips. Her growing belly didn't bother her anymore.

Past and present kept crashing. Maybe it was as Shikamaru had said: it was a mad world, and time was unreeling in all directions, chaotically, as shadows and following them. Always. Nothing was as forward and linear as she first had expected.

There was no getting past anything except as a shadow of buried memories. She was done waiting. She was done being a shadow defined by bones.

"Let's talk about it again. Let's talk about Sakura and that wedding of hers."

"Is that necessary?"

Ino sat back on the scale, the needle ringing beneath her weight. She talked about herself when she talked about others. Kurenai ought to know that, by now. If she called Sakura by her old nickname, it was only because she wished she was still Ino-Pig in small ways. In enough ways for her to go on.

"Yes."

She crossed her legs, her pale gaze unflinching and Kurenai turned the page of her notebook, beginning anew.

-X-

Hinata Hyuuga closed the car door softly, the gravel squeaking under her ballet slippers. Kiba had his back to her, his hands in the metallic carcass of an old motorcycle. She bit her lip, watching Kiba's shoulders tensed at the sound of her hesitant steps. His unruly hair shook in the wind and he took out his hands from the motor. Hinata felt the restrained spring building up in his body, she saw his mouth quivering back a snarl that made her nervously twist her car keys between her fingers.

Harsh sounds and smell engulfed her as she stepped in his garage and she nearly choked standing in the middle of the chaos of soiled rags and spread pieces of metal. She didn't know if he were destroying everything or building it, his muscles taunted.

"Hey," she muttered shyly, wincing at the echo of her weak voice. She wished she had his voice, his broad grin. His everything. It had been the only things that hadn't compressed her chest in a long time and she let go of it.

She cast her gaze down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His movements slowed.

"You didn't answer my calls and you ignored my texts. You don't get to say 'hey' to me. Hell, you don't need to be here at all. Unless you have a dying pet and you're here for my sis or mom, walk back to your car. We are done here."

It was the first time she came to him and he didn't feel his heart thudding or skipping a beat. Instead it tugged low in his chest. Kiba felt like spitting acid, his insides boiling. He didn't want to be found by her. Not today. Not when she was wearing mundane clothes instead of a dress. She wasn't ready and he didn't change that. Maybe he had asked too much of her. Maybe he had pushed her too hard, claimed her lips when she still didn't want to let go.

Maybe they weren't meant to be.

He tried not to care. His features remained hardened, rippling with his contained anger. The bitter scent of gasoline couldn't mask her lavender perfume. His greasy hands beating at the pieces of his father's motorcycle couldn't ease the thought of kissing her again. No matter how many screws he unscrewed and re-screwed, there was still something off, broken, inside him, ticking awkwardly in the balance of the other pieces around him.

They didn't vroom loud enough.

They didn't shake in unison.

"I'm not going," Hinata blurted out, the rattles of her car keys biting at her flesh when she clenched her fists. His jaw twitched and he stared hard at his blackened hands. "You think..." she gulped, suppressing the tremors of her body. "You think you know what is right for me, but you don't, Kiba. I don't need to go to watch him marry Sakura. I don't need to be in pain, smile and toast for their happy life together for me to understand that it's over. It has been over before it even started, I know that. They don't need me there. I... I don't need to be there."

'I could have needed you there.'

"I thought I just told you unless you are in need of a vet, you have no business being here." His low controlled voice hit his barred teeth chilling her into place.

Her shoulders dropped, her eyes slightly widening. Hinata had twisted and turned all night in her bed, her bed sheets tangled in her insecurities and worse fears until images of their talk spun out of control. By trying to save herself, she had lost him.

Hinata wished it were raining so that she wouldn't have to stand straight, so that she had an excuse to curve her back. She knew how to fall, how to pick herself off, how to pray for the pieces to fit back together. She didn't know how to stand. Not under his unwavering brown gaze that wouldn't meet hers, his silence amplified by the sound of beating wrecked metal. Not with his arms stiffened, his back turned to her. He wouldn't help her. He wouldn't carry her like everyone else did and she didn't know if she ought to be relived or hurt because she wanted him there.

Because all along it had never been about her standing, holding herself together, signing off the back of Naruto's checks. It had been about letting go, turning away, stepping down, accepting that she wasn't the one atop the cake.

"I'm sorry, Kiba."

She blinked away her tears, staring blankly at the tools spread across the garage. Nuts, screws and bolts covered the cement ground, black stains rose up to his elbows. Kiba rose to his feet, his darkened face. They were wrong for each other, unfitting in both character and spirits but along the way, he had stopped being playful. It had meant something to him, her quietness that could support and rest against his outbursts. He had stopped wanting to spite Neji by calling Hinata beautiful somewhere along the way and she had stopped being the shy cousin of his roommate. Somehow, he had hoped he would be the one to change her mind about herself. About them.

Kiba roughly turned on the tap, the water hitting in jets of black the ceramic below.

"And I'm sorry you're not Sakura today."

She almost dropped her keys. She choked, her chest barely heaving. Kiba winced, hearing the sound of her body wrinkling, closing onto herself. She took a step back. The cold water kept snaking down his arms and he wanted to turn back and erase it all. He wanted to erase Naruto, take his place and pretend past and present didn't have to blend, intertwine and matter.

He rolled his head back, inwardly urging her to go. He waited for the chaotic swinging of her anger, for a quiet reply that would end it all. Slowly, he closed the tap and reached for the towel on his right.

"Then, I'm sorry you're not Naruto," she whispered, her cheeks flaming under the trails of her tears.

He kicked a screw against the wall, the flapped towel slashing back against the pots of oil aligned onto the wall.

Kiba laughed bitterly, his hands grabbing for his helmet. He walked in front of her, their bodies humming in unison. They were tired of trying to make things right, their perspectives filled with unscrewed screws that wouldn't fit into place, that squeaked despite the oil, disproportionnate by the difference between what they wanted and what they had. He straddled his bike without glancing at her. A part of him of wanted to tell her he was glad he wasn't Naruto. He was glad he didn't make her cry and double over a wedding cake that would never be hers. But his blood hissed, jealous and angry that he wasn't her prince charming, her golden boy, her champion. He couldn't even bear looking at her.

"Here's your choice, Hinata, you can't let it all go and stop feeling sorry that you're not Sakura. Because while you are doing that, you aren't celebrating the fact that you are you." She blanched, her hand jerking nervously at her side before it positioned itself in front of her mouth. With a groan a frustration, Kiba brushed wild strands out of his eyes. "People aren't applauding you for standing up and never giving up because you're not applauding yourself. People expect you to fail because you are the first one who expects yourself to fail," he gave in a dry laugh, half-snarling, his eyes gleaming as if to dare her to tell him otherwise. "You, Hinata. This is all you. Stop thinking you're on an isolated island and people aren't reaching you because they are. The way they treat you... it's because they truly see you. Naruto didn't treat you differently, he was just too oblivious to see what you were doing to yourself. He didn't care enough to pay attention or he will be telling you what I'm telling you right now. He would be telling you that you were the first person to let yourself down and after all those years it's still the case."

She still have to fight her body, breaking and shaking when all she wanted was to stand straighter, when all she wanted, just this once, was for her voice not to waver when she spoke her mind.

"That may be true but you're letting me down right now," Hinata replied, her keys nervously rattling at her side.

"What about you?" Kiba shouted, his voice screwed by the echoes in the garage. He held out shakily his helmet towards her to punctuate his words. "You let US down. You let ME down. Fuck! Did you think I would be a puppy wagging my tail at you for the rest of your life? You should have treated me like a fucking human being and not kiss me back if you meant to go back curling in your black hole of Naruto despair. Or you know what? You should have picked up your goddamn phone if you didn't have the guts to tell me face-to-face that you don't want to let Naruto go."

Briskly, he shoved his helmet on his head, snapping the visor down despite his hair uncomfortably tickling his eyelids. He thought if he left her behind, he wouldn't have to think that men like him, who exist only for their past mistakes in the eyes of others, rarely win. Rarely deserve to.

Her hand fell on his bicep before he could kick the engine to life. Kiba stiffened, when the hand rose up his arm in an appeasing gesture until it rested against his visor.

"You're wrong, Kiba," she tried softly again, but her voice died when she saw his unchanging expression.

"Then you would have picked your goddamn phone up," he cut her off, pushing her hand away.

She laughed to herself, quietly, bitterly. She clung to him, gripping his hand. Fool, she pestered herself. She thought she would need only one talk to change everything. Only one talk to change herself.

"Shut up," Hinata pinched her lips to control her stuttering.

"What did you just say to me?" Kiba gaped.

Silently, she slipped on the bike behind him. She yelped when he abruptly turned back towards her. He caught her swiftly before she could slide off the bike. Wide-eyed, breathing hard, he searched her face and she resisted the urge to close onto her body. She bit her below lip, her fingers rubbing the tension in his arms in tentative strokes.

"You can't ride with me in those clothes," he said softly, glancing at her fingers curled around his elbow. They stilled, releasing their hold and her arms flung in front of her chest.

"Ex-excuse m-me?"

"I meant leather, Hinata," Kiba cleared his throat and pointed with his thumb at the equipment hung on the wall, the tip of his ears flushed. "My sister's jacket should fit you."

"Oh, right," Hinata squeaked, turning bright red but she didn't make a movement to hop off the bike.

His hand fell onto her cheek. It grazed it, hesitating, as if she could disappear.

"I'm sorry, Kiba. I just kept imagining how angry you would be... and then angrier and angrier. I guess it scared me. It scares me now in fact because you're right. I..." Hinata straightened her back. Just this once she wanted to say things right; loud and clear. "I was wrong and I didn't treat you right."

He nodded slowly, his hand sinking in her dark locks. Timidly, she leaned forward gripping his sleeve.

"We don't have to go now, you know. There are plenty of days after today." Kiba looked over the top of her head, grimacing inwardly at the thought of babbling about potential dates and plans. He still didn't know if she would stay.

"I think I'd like that. I don't think I can stand right now," she admitted meekly, her blush spreading to her neck, "I've never told anyone to shut up before."

Kiba chuckled softly, leaning back against the handlebars of his motorcycle. The sharpness of his eyes softened and she gave him a wider smile before casting her gaze down. She nudged a screw with the point of her shoe.

"You will need boots too," he said with a grin following the bouncing metallic piece.

"I don't think I thought this through," Hinata bit her bottom lip, frowning slightly.

Yet she still didn't move, her fingers distracted by the tight fabric she kept playing with, by the heat coming off of him.

Hinata imagined herself later whispering her she whispered her arms sneaking slowly around his waist. She would title her head, making sure she had a clear view of the road ahead. Free, the wind crashing against her body.

"Yeah, so didn't I."

Kiba grinned, his eyes sparkling as they drew the contour of her small mouth and he didn't let her go. He had shown her she could stand in the rain, fearless with water pounding on her shoulders filling her eyes and mouth.

She needed to show to herself she could stand in the sun.

-X-

The chants of the chore rose higher, pounding in her chest and she clutched her hands tighter. Ino still searched among the flowers and fabric covering the aisle for a way to rewind and start over. Where did she go wrong? She kept asking to herself. Where did she stop hoping this could be one day be hers?

A gloomy and selfish part of her still thought she had been stripped of her happy ending. She realized numbly, her shoulder grazing Shikamaru's suit, that she was sitting away from the cascade of light at the front of the church. None of those flowers were hers, their scent pressing against the back of her throat.

None of it was meant for her. She looked around, breathing hard. She didn't think she would ever be able to part of a crowd. She was hungry for the front seat, the attention that made her shimmer, the right angle that manipulated the shadows on her features. Others had always shown her the best part of herself, the one mirrors cheated from her.

When they were little, Sakura and Ino had planned their wedding day. They had enacted it, made up fake husbands that were part of a childish view of destined instantaneous romance. Ino exhaled, pinching the fabric of her pink dress. Between curly bangs framing her face, she glanced at the priest talking quietly with Naruto Uzumaki. Light rained down the stained-glass windows quivering with the movements of the branches tapping onto them and the front of the chapel glowed.

She leaned towards Shikamaru, pulling at the mismatching cuffs of his shirt her small nose wrinkled in a growing frown. He smirked, imprisoning her hands in his before she could nudge him, outraged.

"You are doing this on purpose aren't you, troublesome man?"

"My fashion taste has nothing to do with you. I only think black and white go together," Shikamaru answered smoothly, drawing her closer.

"On a cow and a zebra maybe not at a wedding," Ino hissed and the old woman next to her narrowed her eyes at them pressing a firm finger to her vibrant red lips.

The music slowed and she gripped his arm harder, her eyes flickering towards the end of the aisle.

She pressed her body closer to his. Tenten appeared with an easy smile on her face in a long champagne dress. Soon, she locked arms with the best man. When she was near them, Tenten smirked waving teasingly the flower bouquet towards her. Neji stiffened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and his white eyes met Shikamaru's in a silent greeting.

"Oh no, she did not just do that," Ino growled clutching his arm harder. He winced, mumbling to himself. "That bitch! I was going to ask her to be my bridesmaid. Ugh, with Sakura's forehead-"

"Young lady, this isn't your day. Would you please quiet down, the bride is about to walk down the aisle," the woman next to her snapped.

Ino's head snapped in her direction, her eyes narrowed into slits while Shikamaru coughed to mask his amusement. Her husband's hand tapped her arm and she finally turned her head away from them.

"Tenten doesn't even care about being a bridesmaid," she mumbled, her fingers playing with the bracelets encircling her wrist.

"It's a woman thing," Shikamaru yawned stretching his arms over his head. "You all care about that stuff."

Without turning away from the front of the church, she elbowed Shikamaru's in the ribs, drawing a surprised gasp from him. His slender fingers closed around her elbow pulling her body towards his. When it came to them, there was more pulling than pushing. She liked that, she could lean back against knowing as much. He could pull her back against him and she could let him.

"Savagery isn't a woman thing," Shikamaru whispered his lips pressed against her ear, smirking when she shivered lightly.

"I don't want a religious wedding," Ino said straightening her back, her hand falling on his tie. She straightened it, pinching the material at the knot so it would perfect.

He blinked, his fingers stopping their circular motions on her exposed arms.

"What?"

"Are you two done talking?" A disgruntled growl interrupted them.

Ino tapped her chin, mocking a reflexive pose, as she waved the old woman away. She stammered a curse, her husband trying to calm her down but Ino had already blocked it all out. Her breath caught in her chest as Sakura approached the beginning of the red carpet. She clutched her bouquet nervously, her father taking her arm.

"And I don't want white flowers, purple ones will have to do," Ino kept talking, ignoring the woman's hardening eyes on her face and the hammering of her heart.

"Ino..."

"What is it Shikamaru?" She turned towards him, mastering a neutral expression as she turned towards him. Maybe if she didn't look it would come more easily; the thought of her own wedding, the thought of her happy ending. "It's a woman thing to plan a wedding, isn't it?"

"Alright, troublesome woman, no more sexist jokes," Shikamaru held up his hands and Sakura began her progression.

"Thank you," she kissed his cheek breathing in his scent, his heat, "but I wasn't kidding about the flowers. You better never mention that dichotomy crap again when it comes to clothes because I swear I will handpick your clothes for the rest of your life."

"You're making me nervous, troublesome woman," he muttered against her neck.

"Good," Ino smiled teasingly as she laced her fingers with his. Her eyes shifted back to Sakura's timid smile behind her veil. "Very good." She smiled shyly at her friend over his shoulder. "You're perfect," Ino mouthed at her, the back of her eyes stinging.

"You too," Sakura mouthed back.

-X-

Sakura giggled, throwing her head back as Naruto swept her across the dancing floor. They glided and spun, their guests timidly joining them for them first dance together. Tenten Morino turned away when Sakura's father tapped on Naruto's shoulder. Downing her glass of champagne in one gulp, she passed by the buffet leaving the empty glass on the corner of the long table.

The corner of Neji's lips quivered and he crossed his arms obstructing her way when she tried to walk out of the reception room.

"Where are you going, Ten?"

"I'm not trying to pull a Cinderella tale on you, Neji, I just have bleeding feet that need my immediate attention," she huffed, balancing herself by gripping his shoulder. He hesitated before gripping her waist to steady her as she slipped her shoes.

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "It's just..."

"I know," Tenten tiptoed to kiss his cheek, tossing her shoes in the corner of the room. "I do have a tendency to disappear."

He looked over at the dancing floor, cocking his head on the side.

"Kiba and Hinata didn't show. Should I be worried?" He ran his hands up and down her back to draw her closer.

"Nope," Tenten looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think she tamed the beastly womanizer we both love. It's about time those two go on a date."

"Hn. Right now, I hate him," he groaned, his white eyes following the swinging movements of the crowd. He spotted Ino dragging a smirking Shikamaru towards the dancing floor. She rubbed his chest until she reached his shoulders. She watched him carefully,

"You think I'm everyone's mom but you sure are acting like everyone's father."

"I'm not."

"Then, kiss me and stop looking after everyone," she grabbed his chin titling it towards her and he finally looked down. "And I mean that literally." He smirked against her lips, cupping her cheeks so he could have better access to her lips.

He broke apart from her, lacing their fingers. She stumbled slightly onto her train. He heard her curse under her breath as she gathered her skirt, but he kept pulling her towards the dancing floor. Neji's hand fell on the small of her back. Pinching her lips, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"You are just doing this to embarrass me."

"No, I'm not," he smirked kissing her temple.

"It's a psych thing, I'm sure," she frowned slightly, staring down at the way his steps moved smoothly across the dance floor. Her hand fell too high on his shoulder and she didn't let him completely guide her, but he didn't say anything. "You are trying to feel more confident about yourself by watching me miss all those stupid dancing steps," she whined her eyes drifting back to his face.

"I merely think your footwork could use some improvement," he pressed her closer to him so it would be easier to guide her.

"And I think your cockiness could also use some improvement."

Neji let go of her hand for a moment to stroke the side of her face. He gave her a small smile and she pressed her cheek to his hand. For most of her life, she had let herself flow and shift from the directions of others, careful as not to make a ripple as she disappeared back into the crowd. She had always been alone, but for Neji, she kept coming back. She had never been more afraid.

"Are you going to say something creepy and cheesy like that we should get married?" Tenten forced a laugh out, lacing their fingers back into their dancing position.

"No, I'm not ready to ask your father for your hand yet."

He kept looking at her, searching for her eyes but she lay her head on his shoulder.

"You definitely need to improve your video game skills and learn a bit about football before you do that," she added after a moment, chuckling nervously.

"I just need to know that you aren't closed to the possibility."

She closed her eyes, mentally reenacting her knocks on his door months ago. She had gripped the DVD cases so hard, he had to pry her fingers open. They snapped one by one and she thought it was her heart.

There was a price to disappearing, one she didn't want to pay anymore.

"I'm dancing with you, Hyuuga, wearing a puffy dress that I will let you take off later. What more do you need?"

"That you tell me nothing is going to change because your are halfway across the country."

Tenten pulled away slowly, their dance slowing by itself. They were out of the rhythm. They faced each other, their hands barely reaching for the other. His jaw twitched and she hesitantly put her hand on his cheek.

"I know you hate change, but it's not the apocalypse, Neji. It's just... It's just I need to do this. For me. Besides, training only takes three months and then I will be stationed nearer. Dad will probably pull some strings so I don't end up very far. He says he doesn't want mom to be worried, but I don't think-"

"Tenten."

"Yes?"

"Just tell me nothing is going to change and I won't have to come and find you."

She nodded stiffly, closing the distance between them. His breath fell on her neck, his heat radiating off his chest. She kept nodding not trusting her voice as her fingers nimbly steadied his tie.

"You're the one who taught me change wasn't always bad," Neji whispered and the movements slowed around them, another song coming to an end.

"I will come back," she said softly. "I'll always do."

Another song began, humming them back against one another and they danced again.

-X-

5 hours before Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki's wedding

"I'm glad that you have finally understood the therapeutic effect of talking, Ino, but tell me about yourself."

Ino rolled her eyes, rolling one of her locks around her fingers as she pushed herself up on an elbow on the couch. The curls had loosened because of the heat and there was only a few hours left before Sakura's wedding.

"God, can't you just ask a question if you want to know something?"

"Why aren't you sitting on that scale anymore, Ino?"

She snorted loudly, flexing her feet in her sandals. One of hers nails was chirped. She hadn't noticed before. She narrowed her eyes, tapping it with her index.

"Ino?" Kurenai repeated louder, watching her carefully.

"45," she hissed between her clenched jaw, straightening her back. "That's still what I want that scale to tell me. I have been that number for so long that I need to relearn to be anything else. At first I was looking for the perfection in the imperfection, but things don't work like that, you know? There is nothing perfect in the way my boyfriend can't keep his place clean. That's just bullshit."

"How do you think things work now?"

"I don't know... I guess sometimes they work out, other times they just don't."

"And are you alright with that?"

No. She still needed to grip anything that would allow her to be in control, firm on her legs. Steady was reassuring. It was more difficult now that her legs were heavier, her dizziness gone. When Shikamaru called the world mad, she felt it spinning and her stomach clutched painfully.

She would never be all right with ambiguity, secrets and letting go. She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"No, but I need to, right?"

"Yes. I need you to stand on that scale, Ino."

She shifted, standing up, her hands finding their ways on her hips. She looked back one last time, at the turquoise couch and Kurenai's prominent belly. She was ready for the rest, but she was afraid. She knew she would always be because if there was no apparent scar of what she had done to herself, she still wore them inside of her. They snaked beneath her skin, compressing her stomach, circling her throat, dividing her face at its axis of symmetry. She could feel them, slicing through all of her thoughts. Keeping her from being the 'old Ino'.

She was done counting her worth. She was moving forward, letting go one by one of the strings that still kept her from giving her a genuine smile. But she believed in him, waiting. In her, walking to college.

In them.

It sat weightless on her stomach, the thought of Shikamaru in the waiting room. It spread warm and comforting to her chest, the thought of perfect imperfection.

Simply them.

-X-

I will be mingling with other ships for a while. I hope you will forgive me but writing this was both blissful and painful and I need a break. Don't worry though: I'm still here to celebrate.

I'm sad and smiling as I write this. One last thank you, dears. I owe you a lot for all the love and support you have given me. I have grown very fond of you, I hope you know that. This was my favourite story at some point and as I'm writing this, this is all I'm trying to keep in mind: I loved writing The Art of Letting Go. I loved giving you a chapter per week (I'm sorry some people spoiled it for all of us). I love that some of you tried to convert me shamelessly to GaaIno and SasuIno or joined me on the most epic fangirl quest when it came to KibaHina. I love that some of you took the time to help me improve with constructive criticisms and prompts and dares and long PMs late at night. I love how some of you sent me PMs only to tell me you were re-reading some of my chapters (AteASol, I'm definitely looking at you, right now ;)). I loved how some of you drew fanart of this fanfiction (Anna Carina, AteASol and YukiTenVianey Team). You are wonderful people! ^_^

I hope to see you around, my dears! So... Bye for now! :) 3

-Clementive/Liz/Lizzie

P.S.: I'm looking for a beta as the one I got never returned me this chapter. I'm looking for a beta who doesn't mind SasuSaku and my writing style. Oh and fairytales. ;) Anyway, if you are interested send me a PM. I promise that I rarely write 10k word long chapters. ^_^'