Ino wasn't really the squeamish type, but that still didn't stop her from jerking away from him, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Just because she'd dealt with blood and vomit and other gross bodily fluids before didn't mean she wanted to. Sakura was the doctor wannabe.
Besides, this top was one of her favorites.
"You're so--" she began, then cut herself off with a huffing sound, too irritated (or flustered) to come up with the appropriate adjective to encompass everything that Suigetsu was.
Instead, some kind of autopilot suddenly took her over, and she wrapped a hand around his (bare) arm, guiding him away from the ring and the crowd and towards what she hoped was a bathroom or some sort of back room for the fighters before and after their matches.
"Come on, idiot." Maybe it was the part of her that couldn't stand idly by while someone was hurt, or maybe the part that couldn't resist helping someone much more pathetic than her (she was going with this option), or maybe it was something else, but either way, the reaction was unthinking.
"Let's get you cleaned up." That came out a little more gently than she'd intended. Or just exasperated.
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