ana ° logue

Although the library was filled with numerous wooden tables and endless rows of heavily laden bookshelves, it was easy enough to spot the young Yamanaka. For despite her still small stature, her long fair hair stood out against their more muted surroundings. Unlike himself, but again, quite unlike him, she also did not possess the need to immediately fall silent and keep to hushed tones at all times in the library.

He offered her a wave, slightly amused, just after the scolding she had received from a neighbouring table.

“Careful,” he said, once he reached her. “We don’t want Madam Pince throwing you out of the library, do we?”

There was a lightness to his voice that suggested he had spoken in jest. But it was true. Madam Pince wasn’t exactly known for her patience when it came to those who did not respect the sanctity of her territory. Never mind if their only sin was speaking a touch higher than the acceptable volume she had set.

“So what will we be studying today?”

Ino grinned at his slight jab, raising a finger to her lips to signal her understanding. It still made her giddy, that he was there at her request. The flickering candlelights made his eyes darker, like liquid obsidian and secrets, and she had to duck to hide her reddening cheek.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Ino gestured at the accumulated books and parchments before her with a flourish. She sat on one side of the table, careful not to scrape the legs of the chair as she pushed it back. Itachi's reminder about Madam Pince's iron grip on the library was spot-on. "I'm having trouble deciphering some advanced spells originating in duels during the fifteenth century. There's one reference to a dark wizard who could use a spell for spontaneous combustion, but I only found a small passage about him in the reading material."

It was one of the more complicated assignments she'd attempted to carry out, surprising even her professor, but Ino liked complicated. And a challenge.

Just like Itachi.

They always come at such odd hours.

It helps now that her schedule is beyond repair, and she sleeps when she wants to, not on any particular timetable.

And it helps that she has the backdrop of Ryozen’s bar, a familiar enough place for those interesting enough to find themselves in it.

“Is this where I say ‘depends’ and lean back against the chair?” She does scoot aside, giving ample room to be joined at the table. “What do you have to offer?”

Anko grins, and shrugs, leaning closer to her guest. “Yes, that’s me. But what could I have that the goddess of love doesn’t?”

She decides that she likes this one — not a god, but carries herself with the arrogance of one. Some immortals are just a plain waste of eternity. The details of Anko's deal with Yashamaru are sketchy at best, even with the network of informants at Ino's disposal, and she wonders if she would hear the story one of these days. Might even get to make fun of Yasha for another century or two. 

"You flatter me,” she laughs, taking the vacated space in a flourish of gold and glitter. The bar pulsates gently around them and Ino signals at the young man behind the bar; the usual. “Sometimes even love needs a bit of nudging here and there. And I can’t nudge if I don’t have all the particulars.”

Her drink comes with a smile and a lovestruck note.