I pulled away from the kiss and looked at the breathless girl in my arms.
Ino's lips were swollen and red, her gloss completely kissed off. Her eyes were half-lidded and dazed, unfocused, like she'd just surfaced from underwater. A thin line of saliva connected our mouths for a moment before breaking. Her chest heaved against mine, breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
"What," I said, voice rough, "was that you were saying about a welcome kiss being stupid?"
Ino breathed hard, her entire body slack against me. If I let go, she'd probably collapse.
"I'm…. I'm sorry," she whispered, then swallowed. "I didn't—I mean, it's not stupid if you—I just—" She shook her head, struggling for coherence. "You're really good at that."
I nodded. Damn right I am.
"Anyway," I licked my lips, her sweet taste in them. "I'm actually going to need your help picking out some flowers."
Ino swallowed again, visibly trying to collect herself. "A-alright. Just... just give me a second. I need to—Eeypp!"
I slapped her fine ass.
The sound was sharp and satisfying, echoing in the quiet shop. Her flesh yielded under my palm, firm and round and perfect, the thin fabric of her skirt doing nothing to dampen the impact.
Ino yelped, jumping, and spun to glare at me over her shoulder. She wiped the saliva from her chin with the back of her hand, her expression caught between indignation and something heated.
"You're such a jerk!" she hissed, but there was no real venom in it. Her glare was more like a kitten trying to look threatening, adorable, and completely ineffective.
"Can't help it," I said, pushing my hips forward just enough to let her feel the hard ridge of my erection against her lower belly.
Her eyes widened, breath hitching.
I leaned in, voice dropping to a husky murmur. "You keep looking this hot, standing this close… I'm afraid if this keeps on, I might not be able to stop myself. And I don't think your parents would approve of what I'd do to you right here on this counter."
Ino stared with wide doe eyes, lips parted, her face going from flushed to burning. She swallowed hard—not from breathlessness this time, but from something deeper, darker. Her gaze dropped, and she nodded, breaking eye contact like she couldn't handle the intensity.
She turned in my arms, and I let her go. She walked behind the counter, grabbing some tissues to wipe her mouth more thoroughly, clearly trying to compose herself.
"So," she said, her voice pitched higher than normal, trying for professional and landing somewhere near flustered. "What kind of flowers are you looking for? We have arrangements for all occasions—birthdays, anniversaries, apologies..." She trailed off, finally making the mistake of glancing down at the obvious bulge in my pants.
Her face went crimson again. She looked away quickly, focusing intently on organizing the tissue box like it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
It occurred to me that this was turning into some kind of routine lately; walking around with a hard-on like some sort of pervert. Well, I wouldn't fault Naruto for calling me exactly that. But I still needed to do something about it. Being labelled a pervert was not good, uh, for business.
But then again, that label was probably the last to worry about; the villagers already has their plates full.
"I need two bouquets," I said, looking around the shop while Ino composed herself. "And I was hoping to get the expert's exceptional opinion on the matter."
The space was smaller than it looked from outside, packed floor to ceiling with organized chaos. Wooden shelves lined the walls, each one holding clay pots bursting with color. Violets in one corner, bright orange marigolds in another. The counter itself was worn smooth from years of use, scattered with pruning shears, twine, and scraps of decorative paper.
Sunlight streamed through the front windows, catching dust motes and making the whole place glow golden. It smelled aggressively floral, yes, but underneath that was the earthier scent of soil and growth. Ino's territory, through and through.
"Okay, well—" Ino's voice shifted into something more confident and professional. This was her element. And admittedly, the compliment, as small as it might be, helped. "We have roses, obviously. Classic choice. They symbolize love and passion, perfect for romantic occasions." She gestured to a display of deep red blooms. "Lilies represent purity and devotion, good for something more... refined." She moved along the shelf, fingers trailing over petals. "Chrysanthemums are for loyalty and friendship. Carnations come in different colors—pink for gratitude, white for remembrance..."
She paused at a cluster of delicate, pale blossoms.
"Forget-me-nots," she said softly, "represent true love. Lasting connection."
Her light green eyes flicked to me, then away. The excited edge in her voice dulled, turning slightly cool.
"So it depends on the occasion, really, and…." she trailed, her tone dropping several degrees in temperature. "who they're for."
Mmh. Here we go.
I'd hoped the kiss would keep her mind in the clouds a little longer, but I'd apparently underestimated her. Ino was still a kunoichi from a renowned clan. And while the show had tried to lump her and Sakura into the same category, they were fundamentally different. Ino had the standards, training, and instincts of a clan shinobi. Sakura had those of a talented civilian. Not even close to the same thing.
I smiled at her. "What's the matter, little flower?"
I braced myself for the confrontation I saw coming. I expected even. I mean, who would ask his girl to choose flowers for his other girl? That must be one of the dumbest mother fucker to walk this earth. Yeah, dumb or crazy.
Ino bit her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. Then she lifted her chin, deciding to bite the bullet.
"Who are they for?" Her voice was quiet but pointed. "The bouquets."
"Well—" I began, a sarcastic reply sprang to my lips, but I thought better of it. It was neither the time nor the place. I started again, gently, "Someone dear and special to me."
Her jaw tightened. "It's a woman, isn't it?" The words came out clipped, sharp-edged. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers digging into her biceps. "I mean, you wouldn't be here buying flowers for—for whoever if it wasn't someone like that."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly known for giving bouquets to men, no." In the end the sarcasm still found its way out.
Ino didn't laugh.
Yeah, it really is not the place for that.
Instead, she turned around sharply, giving me her back, her platinum ponytail whipping through the air like a whip. She grabbed a sheet of decorative paper from under the counter and started folding it with jerky, aggressive movements, creasing edges, and smoothing corners with more force than necessary. The paper crinkled loudly in the quiet shop.
"Dear customer," she said, her voice cold and overly formal, "preparing proper arrangements takes time. You can come back later to pick them up. I'll have them ready."
I raised an eyebrow and walked toward her. "Ino-chan, are you alright?" I said tentatively, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged it off immediately, shoulders hunching. "I'm fine."
Ah. Yes. The universal word for "absolutely not fine."
Despite the hot waters, I found her fucking adorable when she acted like this. It was new territory for us. Usually, our interactions followed a predictable pattern. I fed her vanity with compliments, overwhelmed her sensitive, inexperienced body with sensations she'd never experienced before, building her up till she was wistful and blissful. Those sessions left her buzzing, hungry for more, rewiring her to crave our next encounter.
Leading her to yearn, counting down the days until she could see me again and feel that rush of being wanted, being touched, being handled in ways that made her genin's brain short-circuit with pleasure.
But jealousy? This was uncharted ground.
"Is…. my little flower jealous?"
"I am not!" She spun around, face flushed. She was so cute, I couldn't help chuckling, and she started pounding her fists against my chest. "Stop laughing! It's not funny, Eishin! You're such a—stop it!"
"Sorry, sorry." I caught her wrists gently, holding them still. "You're just really cute when you're pouting like that. Makes me want to kiss you all over again."
And it was true. Jealousy was an annoying emotion. Oddly enough, I wasn't usually on the receiving end of it. It had been a while since I'd had those short flings with random kunoichi. But the women I actually claimed as mine—Anko, Shiho, and recently Tsunami—weren't the jealous types.
Anko was too secure in her own sexuality and too independent to care if I had others. She got what she wanted from me and gave as good as she got. Shiho knew from the start that I wasn't exclusive, and her deep-seated insecurity made her grateful just to have my attention at all. That was not good; I need to give my little nerd more attention. And Tsunami was a widow with a kid, living in a small village. She knew the score and was pragmatic enough to accept reality.
So it was actually refreshing, in a way. Ino, acting like a normal girl with normal feelings.
But jealousy needed a delicate touch. I didn't want any of my girls in pain. I wanted them happy. Happy with me.
Ino's manicured eyebrows trembled. She looked away, staring at the wall of flowers behind me.
"I bet you tell all of them that," she muttered, voice small. "That they're cute. That they're special. All the other girls."
Oh, boy. A delicate touch indeed. But nothing a good lie couldn't fix.
And I should lie. Hence, I prepared to lie. It wasn't hard—I'd lied to her plenty of times before. Lied about her terrible cooking, and hadn't that made her happy? Yes. A lie was the safest route here. The only route, really. No alternative had been invented yet.
I opened my mouth to lie.
"Yes," came out instead. "I do. I praise and compliment them, yes."
What the hell….
Ino, surprisingly, didn't look shocked. She bit her lip and muttered something that sounded like, "Dad was right about you."
She shook her wrists free from my grip and turned back to the counter, grabbing another sheet of paper and resuming her aggressive folding.
"It'll take a while," she repeated, her voice flat and professional. "You should leave and come back later, dear customer."
I almost clicked my tongue in annoyance, but stopped myself, sighing instead.
What was it with people lately and ambushing me with heavy, serious conversations? Shiho I could understand—she was deeply insecure and needed constant reassurance of her worth. But then Kushina had hit me with unexpected emotional depth during what should've been a simple seduction, and now Ino was spiraling into relationship territory.
It was getting exhausting, honestly.
It felt like I was approaching the end of a chapter in my life. The final chapter. If I were superstitious, I'd think the universe was sending me signals to tie up loose ends, to prepare for some kind of ending I couldn't quite see yet.
I just fucking wanted someone to take care of my boner. Dammit.
I looked at Ino as she folded the paper with sharp, angry movements, her jaw clenched tight.
I wondered what Sai would do in this situation—her supposed future husband from the original timeline. Well, Sai was never the type to have multiple women. And two, he probably wouldn't even notice her jealousy with his emotional obliviousness and his tendency to say the worst possible thing at any given moment. He'd probably just act normal until she exploded or buried it deep inside, and either way, it would fester. She'd smile and pretend everything was fine while dying inside, and he'd remain clueless.
Yeah, Sai really wasn't fit for her. He couldn't handle her emotional needs. Sai's approach was the worst possible example if I actually wanted her happy.
I watched her fold the paper with those sharp, angry little movements.
My little flower.
What she needed wasn't lies. What she needed wasn't to be just another bloom in my garden, identical to all the others, interchangeable and forgettable.
She needed to be special. She needed her own soil, her own sunlight, her own particular care that was different from what I gave the others. Ino wasn't a wildflower that could thrive on neglect—she was cultivated, refined, requiring attention and tending.
And maybe that was the trick of it. Each of them needed something different. Anko thrived on freedom and intensity. Shiho needed reassurance and gentle handling. Tsunami needed stability and presence.
And Ino needed to know that when I looked at her, I saw her. Not just another pretty face. Not just soft skin and a willing mouth.
She needed to bloom in her own way, on her own terms, and know that I valued exactly that.
Yeah. I could do that.
I could make my little flower feel special.
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