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The grass is built of millions of fibres and Ino can see the water moving inside it, shifting along a network that connects with the roots buried in the ground and she can see them, the roots spreading far and deep in search of water and she can taste where the soil shifts from moist to moderate to hard and dry, and there are families of insects among so many of the layers. The ants have a network as extensive as the roots, the tunnels neat and free of debris and food as they take it deeper for their queen –
“Ino!”
Her name is a clang of pots right against her ears, echoing and persisting even when Shikamaru closes his mouth. She can see the blood on his face and it’s drying already and if she stares she can make out the individual clots and the longer she looks the clearer the dark dots of clustered platelets and red blood cells become –
Black covers her vision. There’s a cloth on her skin, its material mildly abrasive but getting more uncomfortable by the second. Its pressure goes from mild to persistent to burning and she can smell it belongs to Chōji from the sweat and memory of spices. The heat of it means it must be his hitai-ate, and if he’s taken it off to cover her eyes then it means she’s lost her focus which means she’s focusing on everything.
Again.
“Sakura’s coming,” Chōji says softly from behind her, but if he’d whispered across a crowded room she’s certain she still would’ve heard it. The buzz of insects means Shino is close and the buzz presses in around her like a physical barrier, compressing her smaller and smaller until she disappears –
Warm hands touch her thighs and it’s like she’s shoved her head into cold water. Ino gasps from the suddenness and leans forward blindly, endlessly relieved to feel familiar arms wrap around her and press her face into Sakura’s neck. Ino takes several deep breaths, forcing instinctive panic at bay as her mind starts to wind down.
“We’ll keep the perimeter,” Shikamaru says, and then they’re gone. Their voices don’t echo and Ino can’t sense them once they’re more than a few metres away, though she’s grateful Chōji left her blindfolded for a little longer.
Sakura doesn’t speak, just sits still and lets Ino breathe against her until the world narrows to just the two of them.
She isn’t sure how much time passes. When she thinks she can see without hyperfixating on anything and everything, Ino straightens up. Sakura peers at her with worry clear on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” Ino tries to laugh off, her hands still trembling from overstimulation.
“It’s never happened that fast before,” Sakura muses. “How strange. Has anything changed?”
Ino tries to keep her face neutral. Nothing has changed, except her realisation her rapid boredom with boys is due to being irrevocably in love with her best friend. A romantic Sentinel-Guide relationship is far from uncommon, but Sakura is… Sakura. Too busy fighting to keep up with her teammates for love.
“Not that I know of!” Ino says instead.
She can keep her secret hidden for a little longer.