Ino's Invitation

After special training entered its third week, the relentless pace showed no sign of easing.

The closer they got to the public sparring day, the more obvious the sense of everyone in the top ten watching one another became. After training, Kiba always liked to shout about who he was going to crush next time. Shikamaru grumbled about how troublesome it was while memorizing everyone's habits more and more clearly. Hinata remained quietly diligent, but her strikes were far more resolute than they had been at the beginning.

As for Ino, she had recently taken to deliberately waiting for Ling after training.

Not occasionally.

Openly.

That evening, the moment Iruka announced that practice was over, Ino stood beside the exit with a water bottle in her arms, waiting for Ling to finish packing up his ninja tools and come over.

"Are you free today?"

Ling glanced at her. "For what?"

"Come buy new bandages with me." Ino shook her wrist. "We've been training so much lately that I've used up all the old ones."

That reason sounded perfectly normal.

But Kiba rolled his eyes at once. "You need to drag him along just to buy bandages?"

Ino lifted her chin. "Is there a problem with that?"

Kiba choked on his words, cursed under his breath, and left. When Shikamaru passed by, he even wore a lazy expression that said, "I knew it," with no intention of getting involved in something like this.

Ling did not agree right away.

But as though she had expected that, Ino immediately added, "It's only a short walk. And haven't your arms been getting tight lately too? We can pick up some medicine while we're at it."

This time, Ling did not refuse.

When they walked out of the academy side by side, the setting sun slanted across Konoha's streets. The shops along the road were bustling, utterly unlike the high-pressure atmosphere of the training grounds. Ino did not talk much about rankings today. Instead, she casually chatted about who Izumo had scolded into tears at school again, how badly Kiba had fallen today, and why Shikamaru always looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Ling only replied once or twice now and then, but Ino was already quite satisfied.

When they reached the pharmacy entrance, she suddenly stopped and turned to look at him. "Have you noticed that you're much easier to talk to now than you were at the start of school?"

Ling thought about it. "Am I?"

"Of course." Ino counted on her fingers. "At first, you couldn't say ten sentences a day. Now, you'll at least give me twenty."

Ling said flatly, "That's because you ask too many questions."

Ino burst out laughing, her eyes curving into lovely crescents. "Then I'll keep working hard and try to get you to say thirty sentences a day someday."

By the time they came out after buying bandages and medicated oil, the sky had grown darker. Ino held the paper bag and deliberately walked slowly, as if she were in no hurry to go home. At the corner of an alley, her steps suddenly faltered, and she let out a soft hiss.

Ling immediately looked over. "What happened?"

"I think I twisted my ankle."

Ino braced herself against the wall, her brows slightly furrowed. She did not seem to be faking it. Ling crouched down to take a look. It was nothing serious; she had merely stepped on a pebble and lightly twisted it.

"Can you walk?"

"I can, but..." Ino looked up at him, a clear hint of mischief in her eyes. "If you're willing to support me, I'd be even more grateful."

The breeze drifted gently past the mouth of the alley.

Ling looked at her for several seconds before finally extending his arm for her to hold onto.

Ino moved close at once, nearly half her weight resting against him. The girl's warmth and faint floral scent suddenly pressed close, close enough that Ling's steps paused almost imperceptibly.

As if that were not enough, her fingers lightly curled around his forearm, and her whole body was nearly pressed against his side. There was not much wind at the alley entrance, but the warm breath she carried when she spoke still fell distinctly against his ear.

"Your ears are red," Ino suddenly said in a low voice.

"They aren't."

"A little bit."

There was obvious amusement in her voice, as though she had finally caught a rare weakness he would reveal.

Ling did not turn to look at her. He only steadied his arm a little more. "Walk."

"So fierce," Ino said, but her body relaxed even further. She even deliberately brushed her fingertips lightly against the edge of his sleeve.

After taking two steps, she suddenly added with a smile, "Uchiha Ling, if you really didn't like me being this close, you would've pushed me away already."

This was no longer simply "interesting."

She knew that herself.

But the more she knew, the more she wanted to probe deeper—to see when this Uchiha, who always wore such a cold expression, would truly reveal a different reaction.

When they reached the area near the Yamanaka family home, Ino finally released him slowly.

"Thanks for today." Looking at Ling, she suddenly took a bottle of medicated oil from the one in her hands and stuffed it into his palm. "This is for you. Don't stubbornly insist you aren't hurt again."

Ling lowered his head and looked at the little bottle that had been forcibly placed in his hand.

"I'll use it."

"That's more like it." Ino smiled. "And on the day of the public sparring, don't think I'll go easy on you just because you came with me to buy medicine."

Ling raised his eyes to look at her. "Get into the top ranks first."

Ino froze for a moment, then laughed in exasperation. She raised her hand as if to smack him, but in the end only lightly tapped his shoulder.

Before withdrawing her hand, she deliberately straightened the slightly rumpled fabric at his collar. Her movements were slow, as if she were taking the opportunity to linger for one more moment.

"Someone really ought to see how annoying you are in private."

Though she said that, there was not the slightest trace of displeasure in her eyes.

As Ling turned and left, Ino stood before her home and watched his retreating back. The smile at the corner of her lips gradually faded, eventually becoming a seriousness even she found difficult to deny.

She was becoming more and more certain.

What she felt for this person was no longer just a desire to tease him.