Neither Minato nor Guy-sensei said much after that. Infuriatingly enough, the Hokage got his verbal report and left, Guy-sensei trailing behind him with some ominous parting words about letting me recover quickly for our inevitable clash.
That was not ideal. Not ideal at fucking all.
Now I was left hanging in the wind with absolutely no clue how Konoha would react to my little Mizukage-killing stunt.
Would they cave to whatever demands the other Kages made? Would they throw me to the wolves to maintain diplomatic relations? Minato's carefully neutral expression had given me exactly nothing to work with.
Maybe he saw it as something I shouldn't worry my pretty little head about. Or maybe he wanted to keep me in the dark so the blade in the night could find my throat more easily.
It might seem paranoid to constantly think like this, but I'd seen enough of the shinobi world to know that idealism was a luxury that got you killed. Trust was a commodity more precious than gold and twice as dangerous to spend carelessly.
I flopped down onto the bed, yanking the sheets up to my chest and closing my eyes. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been put through a blender, then reassembled by someone who'd only seen a human anatomy chart once.
The most probable scenario was that Minato hadn't decided anything yet and wanted me recovered before giving his orders. It was painfully optimistic, but also the most logical conclusion.
Another thought crossed my mind—something I'd wanted to ask but had decided against. Tsunami was still back in the Land of Waves with her son, and I'd made her a promise.
But asking Minato to handle that seemed foolish beyond measure. I didn't trust whoever he might send, assuming he'd even listen to such a request. Worse, there was always the chance that someone like Danzo—someone Minato didn't distrust nearly as much as he should—might decide to use her as leverage.
No, better to handle that myself or send someone I trusted. And of those were so few and far between.
I sighed. The Yellow Flash might be a terrifying bastard on the battlefield, but as a leader—whether of a genin team or an entire village—he left something to be desired. Leaving an injured and potentially dangerous shinobi like yours truly to stew in uncertainty was practically begging for treason.
Lucky for him, I wasn't that type.
Though….. I would definitely be seeking some form of compensation for the emotional distress and psychological trauma I was currently enduring.
And who better to provide such relief than his lovely wife, Kushina? After all, I had saved their precious golden child. Surely that warranted some gratitude, and perhaps a replacement for that lost trophy...
My lips suddenly felt dry.
Of course, there were some tactical considerations in my interest in visiting the redheaded MILF. Though they weren't entirely or even primarily just that.
If I were being honest with myself, and I tried to be when no one else was around to judge, most of it was pure, base desire to spend time with the most gorgeous woman in the village.
But that as it may, there was a legitimate strategic reason buried beneath all that lust.
The Eight Trigrams Sealing Style.
It was the most advanced sealing technique I knew of, completely absent from any library or scroll collection I'd ever encountered. For whatever reason, it seemed to have been conveniently skipped over in Minato's various reforms and educational initiatives. The only way I could think of to study it was on its host.
Which had seemed nearly impossible now that Kushina had her guard up.
Not that would deter my spirit, especially now that I had a valid excuse beyond just wanting to fuck the best MILF in the world.
This last fight had made me realize how much I'd been coasting, letting myself get comfortable when I should have been pushing forward. The residual traces of Nature Energy still flowing through my system and the chance to study the Eight Trigrams seal would be an excellent starting point for serious power development.
The sealing technique was especially important now that Yagura was dead. The Three-Tails would reform eventually, and when it did, it'd need a reliable host to keep it contained and under friendly control.
And who was better than little old me?
That said, the more pressing matter was still providing for Tsunami and her kid, for my Shiho and our child. I need to—
I opened an eye, and the door slowly slid open just enough for a head of lustrous blonde hair to peek through hesitantly. Familiar teal eyes scanning the room like a cautious deer checking for predators before venturing into a clearing.
If deer wore purple skirts and pouted when they thought no one was watching.
"Well, well, look what the wind blew in." I grinned despite myself. "Sneaking around like a cat burglar. What are you doing here, Ino?"
The Yamanaka girl didn't answer immediately, instead giving the room another thorough sweep to confirm I was alone. Satisfied, she scurried inside and quickly slid the door closed behind her, staying pressed against it for a moment as if catching her breath.
And then—lightning. She beamed, all teeth and sunshine. A smile that could put the sun to shame and practically bounced to my bedside, clutching some kind of package in her hands.
Before I could react, she launched herself at me in an enthusiastic hug, arms flung around my neck, nearly squeezing the air from my lungs.
"Idiot! You—you had me so worried! Sakura came running her big mouth about you being in the hospital, and I didn't sleep all night, and—and you're supposed to be strong, aren't you? You're supposed to be a genius! What good is being a genius if you end up here all bandaged up? Do you have any idea how stupid I felt, crying into my pillow because you—because you might—" Her voice cracked, tripped, tried to pick itself back up and keep running, but the sniffle gave her away.
The impact sent a sharp spike of pain through my injured ribs and shoulder, but I bit back the groan. But damn, her scent was everywhere. Jasmine and the faint trace of lilac oil she lately taken to wearing filled my senses, her soft body pressed against mine in all the right ways.
Pain had a way of retreating when something better demanded attention.
I placed a gentle hand on her back, patting soothingly. "Did I make my little flower worry that much?"
"Yes!" She jerked back enough to glare at me, eyes bright and wet. "Yes, you did! What was I supposed to do if you died, huh? You're not supposed to die, not you! And don't smile like that, it's not funny—"
I felt pretty damn stupid for being disappointed earlier when no one had come to visit. Here was my little flower, worried sick about me.
Her voice kept tumbling, but all I felt was her warmth under my palm, so I let my hand slide down, tracing the curve of her back until I found the bare skin of her waist. She was so incredibly soft, like silk beneath my fingertips. She jumped, a little twitch at the touch, but she didn't move away.
"Shh," I murmured, my voice low and soothing as I continued caressing her exposed lower back. "I'm not going anywhere, little flower. I would never leave you unattended in this world. Who else would tend to your garden? Who else would make sure you bloom as beautifully as you're meant to?" My thumb traced gentle circles on her skin. "I could never accept an ending where my precious flower withers without proper care. No storm, no blade, no damned kage gets to take that from me. Not even death."
Admittedly, that was cheesy as fuck, but it was Ino's medicine and it worked wonderfully. She melted against me like honey in the sun, her breathing becoming deeper and more relaxed.
She truly was the most sensitive girl I'd ever had the pleasure of touching. Sakura had been responsive during our mission together, her body quick to react, but Ino was on an entirely different level. Her mind was as sensitive as her skin, every word of mine sinking in like rain to thirsty roots. No wonder she was mine already, even if her father still barred the garden gate.
After a few moments, she pulled back slightly and fixed me with a fierce look, though her cheeks were still flushed. "Y-you better be! If you die, I'll—I'll kill you myself!"
I raised an eyebrow, my hand still resting on her waist. "Now, now. That's hardly the way for a proper young lady to speak, is it? Pretty lips aren't made for threats."
Her expression immediately softened, and she ducked her head. "Sorry, I just—"
"Worried," I said, cutting her off gently. "I know you were. And I'm sorry for putting you through that." The pain in my ribs was getting harder to ignore, and my cock was already hard, straining against bandages and sheets, aching from the feel of her against me. I patted her back and tried to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. "Now then… what did you bring me? I'm dying to see what my thoughtful little flower prepared."
That immediately got her off my abused ribs, and more importantly, it lit up her entire face with excitement. She practically bounced as she placed her bag on the small table, pushing aside Shiho's orange juice.
"Of course! I made soup. And rice balls. And, um, sweet omelet! The soup's miso—I think? Well, it's a little salty, but that's good for recovery, right? And the omelet's kinda… well, it broke in the pan, but it still tastes fine! And I brought fruit, because vitamins, and I had to sneak out of the kitchen before mom noticed, so the rice balls might be a little… big, but they're still edible!" She kept going, every sentence tumbling over the next as she dug into the bag, pulling out mismatched containers that smelled vaguely edible and very much like panic-cooking.
As she chattered away, I took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her. Ino really did have one of the best figures—hell, among kunoichi period.
Starting from the top, that platinum blonde hair caught the light streaming through the window, making it shine like spun gold. Her face was perfectly heart-shaped, with those striking teal eyes framed by long lashes that any girl would kill for. The way her lips moved as she talked, pink and naturally glossy, made me want to taste them. Her neck was slender and graceful, leading down to those delicate collarbones that disappeared beneath her purple top.
That top of hers was a work of art in itself—sleeveless and cropped enough to showcase her flat, toned midriff. The fabric clinging to her breasts, high, firm, and perky to push against the cloth. The exposed skin of her stomach was pale and smooth, her small navel drawing my attention like a magnet. Her waist curved in beautifully before flaring out to hips that were still developing but already promising.
The mini skirt she wore hugged those curves perfectly, and those long, lean legs were a masterpiece that went on for days before disappearing into her standard shinobi sandals.
A sculpture of vanity and sweetness. How was a man to remain sane and indifferent to this?
— — — — — — — —
A/N: Indeed, Ino's physique wasn't fair play. A divine intervention.
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem (PS. A blonde with whiskers is making some mischievous stuff there)