Ino Draws Closer

Early on the second day of the tournament, Ino arrived at the edge of the training grounds earlier than usual.

She wore a neater high ponytail today, and her wrist guards had been tightened again, making her look especially sharp and capable. Yet even so, the moment she saw the matchups for the top eight, she instinctively searched for Ling's match first.

Not because she was worried he would lose.

But because she realized she had grown used to confirming his match first.

"What are you looking at?" Kiba leaned over from the side.

Without changing expression, Ino withdrew her gaze. "I'm looking at how I'll beat you next round."

Kiba clicked his tongue, clearly unconvinced.

Ling happened to walk past them just then, and Ino suddenly called out to him. "Hey."

Ling stopped.

Ino stepped forward and held up the slightly loose bandage around her wrist before him. "Tie this for me."

Kiba's eyes widened at once. "Do you not have hands?"

"I don't feel like moving right now," Ino answered even more matter-of-factly.

Ling looked at her, then ultimately took the end of the bandage and retied it for her. His movements were steady and natural, but the instant her slender wrist rested in his palm, Ino still felt her heartbeat skip faster.

When his thumb pressed down the end of the bandage, it happened to brush over the most prominent pulse on her wrist. The touch could not have been lighter, yet Ino felt as though her entire hand had warmed with it.

She looked up at him and deliberately asked, "You don't think it's troublesome?"

"It's fine." Ling smoothed down the bandage.

Ino's eyes curved slightly. "Then I'll keep coming to you from now on."

Kiba stood there with an expression that said, I'm completely unnecessary here, then turned and left, muttering that women were such a bother.

The matches began soon after.

Ino's opponent was a girl skilled at charging straight ahead. Her style was somewhat like Kiba's, though not as fierce. During the first half, Ino deliberately left an opening, repeatedly leading her opponent around with quick, fragmented footwork and shuriken. Once her opponent's rhythm grew increasingly frantic, Ino abruptly changed direction and cut in, landing a beautiful counterattack.

"Yamanaka Ino, victory."

Cheers rose from the sidelines.

The first thing she did after stepping down was look toward Ling, as though waiting for some kind of response.

Ling nodded. "You fought well."

The corner of Ino's lips immediately lifted, more noticeably than when she had won the match.

"That's all? Just well?"

"Then let me add something." Ling looked at her. "You were steadier than yesterday."

Ino froze for a moment, then the light in her eyes brightened even more.

She suddenly stepped half a pace closer, nearer than usual, and asked with a smile, "Then did you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"How I looked today." Ino looked at him. Her tone sounded like a joke, yet it carried a seriousness that refused to be casually brushed aside. "You're always watching the matches. Sometimes, you should look at me more too, shouldn't you?"

She suddenly realized that a single, not particularly exaggerated compliment from him had already made her so happy.

Ling's match came in the latter half of the morning.

His opponent was a boy with solid skill in using ninja tools. Right from the start, he used a barrage of thrown weapons to seal off Ling's path, making many spectators break into a cold sweat for him. But Ling did not rush to force his way through. With the aid of the Divine Pattern Eye, he quickly judged the trajectories, first evading, then advancing, before using a steady close-range strike to seize control of the entire fight.

His victory was as clean as ever.

Watching him in the arena, Ino suddenly felt that perhaps the most attractive thing about him was this almost excessive steadiness. When others were strong, they were often brilliant and flamboyant; the stronger he was, the more composed he became, like a fire compressed deep within.

During the lunch break, she sat beside Ling as usual and casually handed him a water bottle. "Have some."

Ling glanced at it. It was a new, unopened bottle.

"Yours?"

"What else would it be?" Ino raised a brow. "Or are you afraid I poisoned it?"

Ling took the bottle, drank a mouthful, then handed it back to her.

As Ino took it, she deliberately brushed her fingertips lightly across the back of his hand. The movement was so quick it seemed accidental, but she knew in her heart that it was not.

"You did that on purpose." Ling looked at her.

Ino blinked, smiling innocently. "Did what on purpose?"

Ling did not press the matter further.

But from the fact that he had not avoided her, Ino received an answer that made her happier than any question could have.

Before the afternoon matches ended, the new list of semifinalists was officially announced.

Uchiha Ling.

Sasuke Uchiha.

Inuzuka Kiba.

Yamanaka Ino.

The sidelines immediately became livelier than they had been in the morning.

Because this meant that the upcoming semifinals would likely bring together every matchup people most wanted to see.

Standing by the spectator stands and looking at the list, Ino's eyes held not only excitement at advancing, but also another layer of anticipation that no one else could understand.

Of course she wanted to win.

But at the same time, she increasingly wanted to see what Ling would look like if he fought all the way to the end and stood at the very highest point.