At first Shikamaru thought Ino was angry at him. There were the same flushed cheeks, the same clenched jaw and fists, the same crease between her brows that made her otherwise pretty face look like that of an old hag, which he had seen far too often for his likings during the past weeks, when she stomped into his room that morning. But she did not shout at him, did not lecture him for something he could barely remember doing. She did not even say good morning, just walked right over to his wardrope, flung the doors open and started stuffing his belongings into the bag she had brought with her.
"Get dressed!", she ordered, and flung some clothes in his direction.
Shikamaru looked at the shirt and the trousers. He rather liked his pyjamas, he thought. They kept him warm and covered him sufficiantly to make him appear appropriatly dressed and most of all they were comfortable. Why would he change them for anything that was mostly designed to look like something shown in some magazine and not at all to just fullfill its purpose?
"I know you don't need my help, so get a move on!", Ino almost pushed him inside the small bathroom and shut the door behind him.

For some time Shikamaru had wanted to get out of hospital, and now that Ino dragged him (there was no other word for it) out of the building he had been confined to for the past year, it felt as if he had finally found a way to escape. He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed this, but was quite sattisfied that everyone – including Ino herself – seemed convinced that he was not escaping at all, but rather taken away from here.
The feeling of satisfaction did not last long, though. Soon enough they joined the hustle and bustle of Konoha's main streets, where signs dangled from every building, demanding to be read. Everywhere around them were people talking, gesturing, shouting, running around. Shikamaru tried to block them out, block out the snippets of conversation that reached him, too many and too fast to follow any of them but all the while too clear and distinguishable to be ignored.
Shikamaru wanted to run away, to hide somewhere, but Ino held him firmly, manoeuvred them both through the crowd without ever getting in anyone's way, while Shikamaru stumbled after her, tripping over his feet, when his eyes had yet again been caught by something. When Ino finally pushed through the flower-shop's door and let go of his hand, it took him less than a second to spot the darkest corner the room had to offer, and – knocking over some vases and buckets holding cut flowers – vanished in its shadows, where he cowered, covered his eyes and ears with his hands and arms and slowly rocked back and forth. He could feel water seeping through his trousers and wondered if it had started to rain. He did not considere it very likely for rain to fall indoors, but then again, this place did not feel very much like indoors. The air was moist and heavy with scents of different flowers. It probably did not rain, he decided after a while, because the water only spread on the floor-tiles, however, if he wanted to be sure he would have to uncover either his ears or eyes or both, and he could hear, even through his hands, the high pitched voices of two women arguing. He wished he was able to fully block them out, but he wasn't. He wished he was still in his hospitalroom. At least it was quiet there, and the floor was dry and not as cold as it was here, and the air was breathable.

Later Shikamaru stood in the room Ino had told him was his now, a new pair of trousers in his hands. They looked exactly like those he was wearing right now, the only difference being that the new trousers were dry and did not smell of chlorophyll. Did chlorophyll smell at all? And if it did not, then what was that green, planty smell that had succesfully embedded itself in his clothes?
Shikamaru changed, did not know where to put his wet clothes, and decided to go and look for Ino to ask her. He found her in the livingroom, where she was sitting on the sofa and crying.
She did not notice him at first, and Shikamaru did not do anything to draw her attention towards him. He just stood in the doorway, the clothes in his hands dripping with chlorophylled water.
"Why are you crying?", he asked after a while.
"I'm not", Ino lied. She motioned him to sit down next to her and Shikamaru followed her invitation. Ino forced herself to smile (he always knew when she forced it, her eyes looked weird when she did) and placed his clothes on the coffee-table, before she wrapped her arms around Shikamaru and pulled him so close to her that, for a second he wondered if she might have forgotten that he too still had to breath.
"We're all that's left", she whispered, while her fingers dug into Shikamaru's arms. At this remark he felt a sense of guilt.
"Because I scared Choji away, that is", he said very quietly. He felt Ino's chest swell as she drew in breath.
"It wasn't your fault", she said and sounded almost as if she herself believed it.
Shikamaru raised his head to look at her, brows furrowed.
"How can it not be my fault", he asked "when I scared him away?"