Chapter Text
Things had been weird since the Chuunin exams. There was something off about everything.
Shikadai couldn’t pinpoint why everything felt different, but there was some unsettling, unspoken tension between him and Inojin. He didn’t know if he was supposed to talk about it or not.
He didn’t like talking about feelings, and Inojin had been unusually prickly lately. He didn’t seem himself, but Shikadai’s curious attempts to get things back to neutral ground had been rebuffed.
Instead of hanging out after missions and training, Inojin went straight home. Instead of playing games on their days off, Inojin did everything he could to avoid Shikadai’s invitations, and the last four times their friends had gone out for burgers, Inojin had declined to join.
Shikadai leant on the railing of the bridge, staring down at the river running through the village, trying to figure out if he had done anything wrong lately. Obviously, there had been a lot going on since the Chuunin exams, and Shikadai had thought he was the only one disappointed by the outcome.
Losing to Boruto still stung, and Shikadai hadn’t forgiven him for cheating, but why was Inojin so stand-offish? It didn’t make sense.
And Shikadai was missing spending time with him. He didn’t feel this way about spending time away from Boruto or Chocho, but whenever Inojin wasn’t around, Shikadai felt it keenly. They were going to have to talk soon, because Shikadai couldn’t bear to spend more time away from his best friend.
They could figure everything out together. They always did.
The thought made Shikadai smile. There would always be a solution to whatever Inojin was worrying about. And Shikadai would always be there to help him. They were made to be together, after all.
“Hey,” he heard Chocho call out, and he turned to face her. His expression fell slightly when he saw she was alone.
“Where’s Inojin?” he asked.
Chocho shrugged. “I thought he was with you.” It was unspoken, but Shikadai heard the added He always is.
He always was, Shikadai corrected grimly. “No. I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”
“Well, maybe he’s ahead of us and he’s already waiting with Moegi-sensei,” Chocho suggested.
Shikadai wanted to believe her, but it seemed unlikely. Inojin was acting strangely, and Shikadai wanted to know why. He respected Inojin’s need for privacy, but if something was upsetting him, Shikadai wanted to help.
And, more than anything, he wanted his best friend at his side again.
Inojin didn’t want to get out of bed.
Summoning up the energy seemed impossible, and he buried his face in his pillow and hoped no one would wonder where he was.
Shikadai would. Shikadai always wondered where he was.
Inojin let out a frustrated, muffled groan.
Shikadai was the main problem Inojin was trying to avoid. Because since the Chuunin exams, everything had felt different. There had been a near imperceptible shift in the way Inojin saw him, and it had hit home in the moment he lost his match against Araya.
Shikadai was talented, and skilled, and was going to go far, and Inojin had been the first of their friends to lose a fight. There was no way Shikadai could ever return Inojin’s budding feelings, when Inojin wasn’t good enough for him. Shikadai deserved the best, and would get it, but Inojin knew he was nothing compared to Shikadai.
And on the massive, million-to-one, off-chance that Shikadai didn’t laugh in Inojin’s face for the mere suggestion that the two of them pursue a relationship, well . . . Inojin had yet another thing working against him.
His clan name.
He hadn’t asked, but he didn’t think it was allowed to even consider dating Shikadai. Dating Shikadai. The phrase sent an unhealthy thrill through him, which morphed almost instantly into nausea because there was no chance of things working out the way Inojin wanted.
So his plan had been simple – ignore Shikadai, push him away, until Inojin’s feelings faded or Shikadai found someone else and Inojin could stop pretending he had a chance.
It would be easy for Shikadai to find someone else, Inojin thought, and pressed his face deeper into his pillow to stifle the start of tears. That’s why Shikadai will never like you back, he thought viciously. Because you’re a baby.
And these feelings had come out of nowhere, taking Inojin completely by surprise, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt of his own mind. Shikadai was his friend, his best friend, that was all, so why was Inojin pining like he had lost the love of his life?
“Inojin!” His mother’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you awake?”
“I’m not feeling well!” He turned his head to yell back. “I’m staying in bed today.”
There a was short silence, before Inojin heard Ino’s footsteps, and he hid his face again as she entered his room.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Ino asked, weight settling on the bed next to him. He felt her hand in his hair.
He shrugged, mumbling, “Just don’t feel good. It’s nothing.”
How could he tell her that he was sick with the worry that Shikadai would find out what Inojin was thinking, and things would change between them forever, and Shikadai wouldn’t talk to him ever again? It was easier to be the one to push Shikadai away, instead of Shikadai leaving him. And they had never, ever talked about things like dating and relationships, and Inojin didn’t even know if Shikadai liked boys – just one boy, just him, that’s all Inojin needed – and he was terrified to ask.
“You’ve seemed a bit down lately,” Ino continued. “Is something on your mind?”
He squirmed uncomfortably, turning over to face her. “Um . . . If I ask you something . . . Can you promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Of course,” Ino frowned. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I just . . .” He took a moment to think. He didn’t want to give anything away, and wanted to be as vague as possible.
“Mom,” Inojin began hesitantly. “What would happen if . . .” He trailed off, not sure how to phrase his thoughts. He tried again, “If two people from our three clans wanted to date each other . . .?”
“Oh, baby,” Ino sighed. “That’s not something that can be done, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Inojin pursed his lips. He looked up into Ino’s blue eyes. “And, um, if . . . so like if I really liked Shikadai or Chocho, uh, I couldn’t . . . Couldn’t be with them . . .?”
“No, you can’t. I know you love Shikadai and Chocho,” Ino said, smiling somewhat sadly at him. “You just have to love them a little differently.”
He nodded. That helped, actually. He wasn’t allowed to date Shikadai, so it didn’t matter that he couldn’t. All he needed now was to avoid his best friend until his feelings faded – probably a crush, anyway, and those were meaningless. They were thirteen; it was just hormones and nothing important.
“I know feelings are confusing at this age,” Ino continued. “But it’ll all work out.”
How long would that take? Inojin wondered. He couldn’t avoid Shikadai for much longer, and the thought of Shikadai showing up and demanding answers and wanting to help and doing his little worried frown nearly burnt a hole through Inojin’s chest.
His other idea was distraction. And that, luckily, was already underway.
“Mom,” he started slowly, feeling his cheeks heat up. He sat up, gripping the blankets nervously. “Um, there is something else . . .”
“Yes?” Ino waited patiently.
Inojin swallowed hard. He had wanted to keep this a secret for as long as possible, but the possibility of Ino finding out and confronting him first seemed more terrifying than blurting it out and letting the chips fall where they may.
“A boy asked me out,” Inojin said quietly. He didn’t dare look at her.
Ino laid a hand over his. “That’s great.”
“It is?” He jerked his head up, surprised.
“Yes. You’re a lovely boy; people are going to show interest in you.”
“And, uh,” he trailed off. “It’s okay that it’s a boy . . .?”
“Whatever makes you happy is okay,” Ino said reassuringly.
Well, that went better than he had hoped. Inojin nodded, pressing his lips together firmly, looking down again. “Thanks . . .”
“Is that why you aren’t feeling well?” Ino asked, smoothing a hand over his forehead again. “Because you were worried about what I’d say?”
“A little bit . . .” He hadn’t told Shikadai and Chocho yet. He didn’t want to tell them, ever.
“Baby,” Ino said sympathetically. “It’s alright.”
She stood up, giving him a brief look over. “You can stay home today if you want. But tomorrow, it’s back to normal training and missions.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, sinking back down into bed.
One more day to figure out how to talk to Shikadai. Inojin would take what he could get.