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Ino is perhaps more aware of the different factions that make up Konoha’s power structure than most ninja will ever be across their entire career. It comes with being the heir of a clan that has made information collection its bread and butter. There are some questions that can’t be asked. Except with every conspicuous gap and unjustified formality she notices, biting her tongue gets just a little bit harder.
Sai is a good match for her. He’s attractive, skilled and has an above average chakra pool besides. He’s also not socially able enough to undermine her authority as a clan head, even if he wished to, and his strength is free from any commitments to a clan. His techniques are unique, but not a bloodline, reducing the chance of potential genetic backlash. Any children they might have would be raised as true scions of the Yamanaka clan and would be able to lead the clan after her without her having to compromise her own status as an heir to get there.
It’s why the slight purse of her father’s lips while he’s (“coincidentally”) manning the flower shop’s till when Sai drops by incenses her. The tilt of his head says maybe, but the tightness of his mouth says it’s not such a good idea. She’s not blind-there’s socially awkward (Shikako’s sensei being a prime example) and then there’s socially ignorant (Sai is a blank slate-likely little to no interaction outside a heavily regulated environment has left him no resources to draw on in his own clumsy attempts to connect). People don’t just spring up like that. It has ‘special program’ stamped all over it. One of Konoha’s many initiatives-poorly hidden because of the marks they tended to leave on the participants, but whose details remained forever lost-an urban myth that had sprouted over the years and, because of the slow but steady influx of potential proof, had refused to die. They came in a variety of goals, from ‘new and improved’ prosthetics testing to social conditioning experiments-it’s almost funny to think that some people will assume the shape of her pupils is the result of one of those. Her father probably has a clearer idea of what it is specifically, but he had still deemed him acceptable. She likes him as he is and his progression with a little socialisation is clear in her mind’s eye. But it’s undeniable that it, whatever it may be, is ongoing.
Routine should be easy. The more you do something, the less you have to struggle to get through it every new time, as your brain gets used to a new habit. So logic dictates that this should get easier. But every time, it gets a little harder. Because every two weeks, like clockwork, something happens. And Sai comes back colder, blanker, thinner-not physically, but like there’s less substance to him. An invisible eraser is slowly rubbing him away and she feels powerless to stop it. She likes it best right after long-term missions: his smile worn enough to catch a glimpse of the human inside. By the following day, he will have gone back into the paper suit that hides everything that could qualify as essential to personhood. The resignation borne out of seeing it happen over and over again is slowly taking over the visceral horror that she feels every time she witnesses someone’s personality be wiped off overnight. It’s the anticipation that keeps her up at night the night before she’s predicted it will happen. The anxiety, the hope that maybe there’ll be just a slightly longer respite this time, that has her sitting on needles.
Ino knows what she wants. She can and she will fight for it. There’s something close to resentment for her own feelings when she considers her targets. A workaholic with seemingly no regard for her own health or safety, lacking both the time and interest to invest in a romantic relationship (but Ino has long passed the point of no return here, regardless of whether anything would come of it). A deeply traumatised boy affiliated with a shadowy master that will hardly be willing to release him from his influence (she could pull back, she’s not yet so invested. But you will never gain anything worthwhile if you don’t take a chance). She still can’t stop the warmth in her chest when she thinks of all three of them together. Because Shikako will always struggle to find time for her, but will doubtlessly offer her full unconditional support: from watching her back in a fight to offering an extra set of hand to care for a wound or a shoulder to cry on, before actually coming back swinging with a solution to her problem. She’s brilliant in a selfless way- the changes she has brought to their world will have repercussions that will outlive her (her improved storage scrolls have already allowed them a logistical advantage that will not die with her. The kunoichi club has the markings of longevity, and a club of women for empowering women is both so desired and so rare that membership will never want for numbers). She’s good for Sai-she doesn’t lose her patience and smiles at his flat jokes. In return, she affords him a special sort of trust. Ino isn’t quite sure of the story behind it, but Shikako trusts Sai with her life-in a sea of people who meet Sai’s oddities with scorn or mistrust, she stands out.
And he’s a boy who will not notice, let alone be held back, by her eyes. Sai, who speaks strangely and offends without a care, but always listens and pays close attention to the people around him. She can see how good they could be for each other and she doesn’t want to let go of that half-imagined dream. She’s been keeping an eye on her options over the years: Kurokawa Taro is only a couple years older than them, an orphan, but already a proficient medic; the son of a first-generation chuunin, Taiko Kagami had been in the year bellow but his name was already making rounds for his ingenuity with genjutsu. There are easier paths to tread. But no other journey seems quite as exhilarating to enjoy, nor does the view at the end appear as promising.