Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What happens now?” she whispers in the dark, the strong thud of his heartbeat pounding against her ear.

“Well,” he says lightly, after a moment of contemplation, and the weight of their situation feels more real than ever. “Now we wait.”

Wait? Wait for what? Wait for the inevitable call of doom?

Sakura is a little feverish, still trying to work the poison out of her system. She can feel it slowly work through her bloodstream like a plague, eroding her chakra pathways and fighting her healing.

She shivers again, and Kakashi presses her closer to him. “You’re alright,” he murmurs when a breeze drifting from the outside makes her flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, “I shouldn’t have gotten hit.”

He sweeps a thumb over her cheekbone, the motion trailing heat and an intimacy she’s yet to fathom. 

There’s blood soaking the bandages on his ribs beneath her hand, a wet warmth that permeates the cracks of her palm. It leaves a roiling swell of emotions in the pit of her stomach, not quite nausea but something just as dreadful.

“You couldn’t have seen it coming,” he soothes, his voice rough with thirst. It’s a sound that buries into the nooks of her ears, fills her with hope and despair and a myriad of other conflicting emotions. A red skein fettered with all the things she promised she would never feel for this man. 

And yet, she lost sight of that promise, and now it sits coiled with all the other words fighting to burst out of her lips, clawing out her throat, demanding that she surrender, that she give up this hopeless fight.

Sink into him, sink into him, sink into him.

Her face presses into his throat, unabashedly inhaling his scent of cedar, woodsy masculinity and the undertones of iron, rust and ozone. 

Lightheaded as she is from the fever and loss of blood, Kakashi’s scent momentarily carries her somewhere far, far away. Sakura sinks into the languorous haze of a dream that only exists within his arms. 

It would have been nice, the thought worms its way through the pleasant fog of dreamland, along with a poignant reminder of why none of it is possible.

Suddenly, she forgets where she is, forgets that she’s with him, forgets the history of a thousand encounters that slowly stitched their lives together. A moment later, she’s standing in the dark, in a world where she’d never known him. 

How could she have ever imagined that a world without him would feel this cold? Had he not left … had he not existed, she would have lived the rest of her life unaware, unburdened, by the absence of him. 

But then he would have taken all of his warmth with him. All his secret smiles, and comforting lies—the very beat of her heart that shakes and quivers for him as though he is the only thing that makes her feel alive. 

The cold that submerges her chills to the bone, and the ever-present lump in her chest suddenly feels razor-sharp and raw. Of course. She’s afraid of losing him. What if she wakes up and finds that he was nothing but a memory; a dream, a mirage she chased her entire adult life?

Sakura jerks back into her body, and finds it soaking with sweat and fear. The presence of someone hot as a furnace against her skin has her peeling heavy eyelids open and gazing into the dusky depths of Kakashi’s eyes.  

“Hi,” she croaks, noticing the way the blended blackness of the cave is now a muted purple and orange, soaked with the first rays of sunshine filtering through. She must have fallen asleep.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he brushes locks of damp hair out of her face. “You alright?”

“I thought I dreamt you up,” she suddenly chokes, mortified by the emotionally-charged words coming out of her mouth—as if she wasn’t wearing them on her sleeve all this time, hurt and anger and love screaming for him with every breath. 

He’s silent for a beat; an eternity packed into a moment, and she thinks she hears the stumble of his heart in his chest. He smiles then, the corners of his lips—lips that are bare, and chapped and still the thing she wants most in the world—lifting up in a self-deprecating smile. “You would have to be half mad to dream me up.”

And there it is. It’s a damning urge; an itch that’s been simmering under her skin for years and can’t be ignored. It may be a poison or a drug, she’s not sure she can tell the difference anymore. 

Sakura’s neck cranes back, and she loses all the air in her lungs just looking at him; this tired mess of a man with a subdued lustre in his eyes, passion in his scarce words, and hurt embedded into every crack of his broken heart. He deserves the world, she thinks dazedly, and so much better than she could ever offer him. 

But is it her feverish brain that makes her conjure up images of what she so desperately yearns for ... or does he really look at her like that? With an unbridled sort of intensity, like an unspoken dare: I want you too, his eyes seem to say ... 

I want you, too.

“I am mad,” she proclaims, more to herself than to him. After all, only a mind spiralling down a path of insanity could make someone believe Hatake Kakashi might be in love with them.

And only someone with an unrivalled penchant for crazy would summon the courage to act on those thoughts. 

Leaning in feels like the tug of a magnet, the shorter the distance the stronger the pull. What felt like a spontaneous decision suddenly feels like helpless surrender. Want trumping rationality. Longing trumping everything else.

Sakura remembers a time she kissed Naruto when she was sixteen, curiosity a niggling voice at the back of her mind and the strange subsequent feeling of ‘I’m different’. She remembers another time at nineteen when she’d kissed Ino, and she thought, a little hysterically, that she might be a little aroused. 

And then she remembers kissing Sasuke, who she thought was the love of her life, and being swamped with a feeling that was more like a profound ache than fulfilment. 

Kissing Kakashi feels like crashing waves overturning a mountain, sudden and unexpected. It feels inevitable that she’d sink under him. 

It’s a never-ending vicious cycle of ‘this is everything I need’ and ‘still it’s not enough’. A satiation to an addiction that’s so quick to demand more. 

He doesn’t pull back, like a part of her expects him to; like he had all those years ago. Instead, he kisses her back, and the raw uncurbed passion of his mouth slowly moving with hers is the kind of damning spell that’s enough to topple someone off their feet. 

The hot swipe of his tongue and the hyper-focused, rapid build-up of his kiss brings on an unexpected bout of desire. He kisses her with a wanton need that cords heat into her body. 

For a few coalescing, breathless moments they’re two beings in the dark ardently kissing to release all their rampant emotions; clutching onto each other and sinking into an abyss of comfort and pleasure.

And for a few suffocating moments afterwards, they’re lovers who come home after being stranded for years. 

Kakashi kisses her like he needs her to breathe, and Sakura kisses him with the one thing she can’t bring herself to admit to him.

When they part she feels a little drunk; the taste and smell of him so acute on her skin, in her mouth, in the heat trapped between them, leaving her delirious.

She watches his throat undulate as he swallows, his jaw working to say something. 

Eventually, he settles on: “Wow.”

Sakura is too afraid to look him in the eyes yet, so she stares at those thin lips, at that clean-cut jawline and presses her thumb against the beauty mark on his chin. 

Narrowing her field of vision to this irresistible part of him is risky. Sakura still feels like she’s teetering a dangerous line and there are memories and sensations now where there weren’t before. 

Now she knows what he tastes like, knows the feeling of his tongue against her own, knows exactly what she’s missing. She wants to kiss him again, more than anything; she thinks she could spend eternity in this godforsaken cave if it meant kissing him again and again.

Her fingers are trembling—but she presses her palms over his cheeks to steady them, and slowly lifts her eyes to meet his. 

“Wow,” she agrees quietly, wondering if those dusky eyes could dissolve her. They’re framed by a mess of silver lashes, long and tangling in some places. He’s ridiculously and unfairly pretty.

He works his mouth into an unsure smile, his usually inscrutable eyes like irate waves lapping against the shore, brimming with thoughts and emotions that battle to burst out. 

Staring at him, now, like this, takes her back to how it all started.

Under the pouring rain, like a cheap cliche. There was a time when Sakura didn’t know how to be close to Kakashi; when he didn’t want anyone close to him, either. Back then she danced around him like he was a trap-wire bound to fire at the slightest misstep.

Back then Kakashi had been an enigma, one she ached to unravel with all the tact of a nineteen-year-old crushing on her team leader. In retrospect, it was hopeless however she looked at it—Kakashi didn’t want anyone’s affections, let alone anyone’s comfort.

He simply wanted to be left alone. She understood, or at least a part of her had—in a distant and detached sort of way—that after Sasuke’s death, a very integral part of Kakashi died along with him. 

He was one loss too many on an already long list of losses. And Kakashi would not—could not—bear it.

So like a dramatic soap opera, under sheets of rain that hasn’t stopped for days, he told her to just go. To let him be. 

Because he was done. 

Of course, he said it with a healthy dose of self-loathing and anger that left Sakura with no delusions about who he thought was at fault there. Of course Kakashi thought he’d failed them. Of course he thought they deserved better. And no amount of trying to convince him otherwise worked.

Kakashi became an elusive mirage, drifting in the distance with the promising taunt of being caught. In the days following his cold dismissal, Sakura’s world tilted on its axis, the colours tinged with grey. It seemed hardly fair that the way he chose to punish himself for his failure to protect his comrades was something she, Naruto and Sai needed to endure as well.

And then he ceased being found completely, no matter what the time or day. Considering how little time Team Seven spent together, it shouldn’t have been glaringly obvious how missed his presence was ... except it was all Sakura thought about day and night for months. 

‘He’s gone’ danced around her mindscape like poison, like Sasuke. 

He’s gone. 

And Sakura missed him more than she ever dared let on, more than she ever thought she’d miss someone, more than he deserved to be missed. She missed him with the desperation of a woman drowning. She missed him until it made her sick, until her heart grew weary and her mind felt drained.

Of course Haruno Sakura would discover the full scope of her feelings for Hatake Kakashi once he was as good as gone. It was the story of her life lately, what with everything she ever wanted slipping between her fingers. 

After months of radio silence, Sakura started feeling desperate. Naruto was too crushed by the loss of a teammate that he’d chased for the better part of five years to be any help. And Sai was more reclusive than ever, and slowly but surely slipping back into ANBU.

Sakura felt like she lost her entire team. Again.

But she wasn’t about to take that without a fight. Haunting various Jounin circles seemed promising at first, until she realised Kakashi wasn’t speaking to anyone, not even Gai. And when six months passed without having seen hide or hair of him, Sakura began incessantly pestering Shizune and Tsunade.

He was apparently on a mission; long term and undercover. They didn’t know how long he’d be gone, nor did they have an estimated time for this return.  

Summer came and went, and the following winter was one of the coldest in the history of Konoha. One year passed, Sakura turned twenty, and Kakashi still hadn’t returned home. 

She’d given up cajoling Tsunade and Shizune for information she was clearly not going to get. One year was a long time, and the hurt and despair she felt at his abandonment was now a fit of burning anger roiling her gut.

Fuck Kakashi and his stupid orange book and his stupid mask and his stupid eye crease. Fuck him to his first-generation ancestor. How dare he leave them to face the death of their teammate on their own? How dare he turn his back on them like that?!

And so, incandescent with equal parts anguish and rage, Sakura set out to gather and heal the remaining shards of Team Seven. 

Kakashi wasn’t there to do it anymore, so it was her job now. 

And what a team they made: an enraged Sakura, the broken apparition that was Naruto, a dejected Yamato, and a clamped up and pessimistic Sai. 

“Listen,” she demanded of her grim and gaunt-looking posse. “You’re my team whether you like it or not. We’re still a team even if some of us are missing or gone. Weekly meetings at Ichiraku are a sacred tradition. And I’m making weekly dinners at my house mandatory. If you don’t show up I will hunt you down and I will kick your ass. Are we clear? Are we clear, Naruto?”

Naruto’s dimmed blue eyes, veering between apathetic torpor and wretched sadness, hesitantly rose to meet her own. “Yes, Sakura-chan,” he eventually mumbled, desolate as ever.

As for Sai, all her hard work and long nights fixing his broken social skills and severe emotional constipation had gone down the drain the moment he slipped back into Black Ops. She frequently found herself looking at him, wondering if she was actually seeing a real person … or the empty vessel of a china doll. 

Team Seven had given Sai a goal, a dream; they’d given him something to fight for and the prospect of saving a person; a happy ending. But that went up in flames the moment Sasuke’s heart stopped beating. Sai may not have known or understood what he was feeling, but Sakura could see that he was depressed. 

It took her two weeks of begging before the Hokage agreed to pull him out of ANBU. And she was so relieved she cried herself hoarse that night.

At first, it stung to watch Sai moping around in his apartment, staring at walls, drawing until ink stains took permanent residence under his nails, images of fire and thunder and howling wolves. 

But slowly, he began to spend time with her again, and his smiles became a little less contrived. 

Naruto was an entirely different story. He was frayed at the seams, completely hollowed out and broken beyond repair. More often than not she’d just hold him close and try to will it all away.

She wanted her best friend back, but there was no denying that his trademark brightness was overshadowed by what seemed like a bottomless well of grief.

For the first few months, Team Seven’s meetings were heavy with desolation. Sakura knew it wouldn’t be easy. She swallowed her hurt at her teammates’ clear dislike of her bullying them into meetings, and smiled twice as big when they were together until eventually, they began to feel more genuine.

The seasons changed, and just when she thought maybe things were beginning to look up with her team, Kakashi returned home, one year and ten months after his disappearance. 

He looked the same; as ageless as ever. He still had that familiar crop of silver hair, the same orange book in his hand, and the same eye crease. 

Sakura spent months fantasizing about what their reunion would be like. But her influx of words dissipated, leaving her with nothing to say when she finally saw him.

The only thing she found herself doing was punching her former captain squarely in the face, leaving a bewildered Kakashi staring at her as he rubbed his sore jaw. In the end, Sakura left him with a shiner in the middle of the corridor at Hokage Tower and hurried home to bury herself under her pillow and sob her heart out.

Sakura bit her pillow to keep from screaming. The only thing more difficult than losing Kakashi to death, was losing him while he was still among the living. And that’s what he’d subjected them to. 

It was cruel… so unspeakably cruel. Did he really think he could untangle himself from them like that? The members of Team Seven were irrevocably entwined. They fought and laughed and cried and bled together. Even if he physically left them, didn’t he know that his shadow would still cling to every surface inch of their being? Just like Sasuke’s had lingered in their peripheral from the moment he defected until he was buried six feet under. 

Kakashi was delusional if he believed that. 

And Sakura was furious. 

She’d make him regret the day he thought he could live without them. She’d make him rue the moment he made the decision to subject them to his willful absence. 

In the months that followed, Sakura found herself wondering how she could possibly love and hate someone in equal measure. Her heart twisted under the strain of these warring emotions until they left her bereft and exhausted.

Sitting with Kakashi in Jounin meetings like they didn’t recognise each other didn’t help, and Sakura had to work hard to reign in her emotions and refrain from grabbing Kakashi and shaking him unconscious.

I hate him. I fucking hate him. 

I. fucking. hate. him. 

She was tired of crying over Kakashi. Not even Sasuke made her cry this much.

The traitorous part of her brain wondered if it was because she loved Kakashi in ways she never loved Sasuke. 

… No, she wouldn’t allow it. She’d never fall for a man who didn’t want her again. 

She told herself she did not love Kakashi… that she never would.

The first time Kakashi properly addressed Sakura since that rainy summer day on his soaked porch, was in Tsunade’s office.

“You’re late,” his eye crease gave away a hidden smile; the first friendly gesture he’d given her in over two years. Sakura hated how she had to squash down the flutter in her stomach at that familiar look. Pathetic.

She ignored him, turning to Tsunade instead. “Hokage-sama. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tsunade’s unimpressed stare did not phase her in the slightest, but she did take satisfaction in the way Kakashi’s frame stiffened next to hers. 

“Sakura,” the Godaime acknowledged with a nod.

Kakashi ever so slightly shuffled at the next words that left Tsunade’s mouth: “I’m sending you two on a mission.”

She suspected as much but it didn’t make digesting Tsunade’s words any easier.

“I hope you’ve acclimated to the cold because you’ll be spending time in Mizugakure.” 

Great, Sakura thought sourly. 

“I need you to track down a group of rogue nin. They’re known as The Red Sand. They’ve been targeting medic-nin around the shinobi world for less than obscure reasons,” Tsunade continued, unphased by their lack of response and the clear tension between them. “Tracking them has been a complete pain in the ass, which is why I’m sending you,” she motioned to Kakashi, “and I’m sending you, Sakura, to see if you can lure them out. You’re no normal medic, and I want you to teach them that the hard way.”

Now this… This improved Sakura’s mood just a little. She couldn’t deny that the prospect of kicking ass was seriously appealing. Even if her bitterness was telling her Kakashi was the one who needed a sound beating.

Given that that wasn’t possible, perhaps her pent up aggression could be channelled into something more productive.

She nodded at Tsunade with a determined look in her eyes. 

“The Red Sand was last seen on Mizugakure’s north shore, and they left behind quite the wreckage according to their Kage. They killed two medics in training and kidnapped their mentor, one of the Mizukage’s personal physicians. The only reason we are getting involved is to use you as bait, Sakura. Only you or I can subdue these bastards.”  Tsunade steepled her fingers under her chin and glared at her two subordinates.

“I need you to tread carefully. If the Red Sand catches wind of our deliberate involvement, if they even so much as suspect  that we’re planning something, they will vanish. And we’ll be back to square one. You need to make it look like you’re there by chance, so figure out a cover story for yourselves.” When she finished her brief, Tsunade tossed Kakashi the mission scroll, clearly identifying him as the team leader, to Sakura’s dismay. “Questions?”

When both shinobi shook their heads, Tsunade dismissed them with orders to depart in an hour.

Kakashi and Sakura shuffled outside, tension still thick between them. He cleared his throat softly, and minutely flinched when Sakura’s eyes cut to him with the sharpness of a kunai. 

“What?” she demanded, unable to hold back the bitterness in her tone.

Did it give him satisfaction, seeing how hung up she was on his departure even two years later? Did it make him feel better to know he was so sorely missed? 

Whatever. Sakura would never admit to any of it. She would never give him the satisfaction.  

His eye creased in a familiar expression, and there was something subtly hesitant yet so potently unsure in his bearing that Sakura couldn’t turn around and stalk away like she so badly wanted to. Instead, she settled on watching him fumble for a minute, clearly grasping for words. 

Finally, he said: “I’m sorry.”

She gaped, stunned by his audacity and more than a little angry.

“I’ve been meaning to apologise for a while now… about —  about that night. I’ve had some time to reflect on it and what I did was …” he trailed off, unable to continue.

So she did it for him.

“Cruel?” She spat, tone unforgiving. “Disgusting? Like the very trash you cautioned us against being from the start?”

Kakashi visibly flinched this time. “Yes,” he agreed, after a tense beat of silence. “I broke my nindo, and you have every right to call me trash for that, and worse. I’m sorry, Sakura.”

A part of her that had been strung up and bleeding for this man for so long seemed to loosen a little at that, but Sakura was far from forgiving him. “Whatever,” she muttered, hating the way her traitorous heart squeezed at his words. “Let’s meet at the gate soon and get this over with.”

This time she was the one who turned her back on him and walked away.

Hating Kakashi when he looked like a miserable kicked puppy was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated. It was easy to hate him in his absence, but now... 

Sakura swallowed and looked away from him as they trekked in silence to Fire Country’s harbour. From there, they planned on hitching a ride on one of the merchant cargo ships heading to Mizu. The trip would last roughly four days, and then the hike from the harbour to the Red Sand’s last known location would take another day or two.

Sakura knew being constrained on a ship with Kakashi would be challenging, but she resolved to do her best to ignore him. 

She kept a healthy but not imprudent distance between then, and walked to their destination in silence. Eventually, the thick trees of Fire Country thinned as they got closer to the harbour; the smell of brine saturated the atmosphere, and the distant sound of sailors shouting filled the air. When they arrived at the dock, they were greeted by a greying man who introduced himself as Fu, and ushered them onto one of the ships.

Kakashi immediately began scanning the area, taking cursory looks into some of the crates and subtly checking the sturdiness of the wood.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged, climbed up onto the dock and laid his backpack down. He let out a soft and rather morose sigh before leaning back against the captain’s compartment wall.

Unwilling to initiate conversation (and demand answers) yet, Sakura inched towards the railing and got comfortable against it. She could hear the men preparing to depart soon and tried to center herself for the long days to come.

This mission was going to suck.

It took Kakashi two solid days to work up the nerve to talk to her again. Sakura took perverse pleasure in watching him squirm, clearly with words on the tip of his tongue only to watch him swallow them again and again.

“Sakura,” he called out the evening of the second day.

They’d just finished having supper and Sakura was lounging lazily by the rail, the rhythmic motion of the ship and the fading light nearly rocking her to sleep. 

She glanced at him, demanding that he get on with it with her eyes alone.

“Can we talk?” He shuffled unsurely, before lowering himself close to her, but just out of reach. 

He looked at her expectantly, shoulders curved and back hunched. He looked so … fragile. There was a bone-deep weariness in his eyes; an ache that she felt in her marrow, too. 

She sighed, so tired. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Except that was a lie, because there was everything to talk about.

Kakashi’s mask dimpled like he might be biting his lip. “Would you just try and let me explain?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but couldn’t deny her own curiosity. Sakura was desperate for some kind of closure; it didn’t mean she was going to forgive him, but at least she’d have answers. 

“Well, you better have a good damn explanation.”

That was as much consent as he was going to get.

He exhaled slowly, eyes flitting away to stare into the approaching night. He crossed his legs, posture still tense and he began to quietly murmur, “Let’s call it history … It started when my genin teammate Obito died. I ... I promised him I’d protect Rin … but then Rin died— because of me, and - and I ... I thought it would be me and Minato-sensei forever ... and you know what? After a while, I was willing to live with that, I was content with that … but then Minato-sensei died too, and my world went dark.”

Sakura couldn’t bring herself to interrupt him. Kakashi was never one to open up about his past, and the fact that he was broaching that topic of his own accord astounded her.

“I can’t begin to explain what that was like. I spent thirteen years in ANBU trying to forget it. I thought I’d die there in service of my village and I was more than okay with that, too. I convinced myself it was a good way to go. Not heroic, but good. Worthy. I never wanted to know the loss of a teammate again …” he trailed off, scratching at his wrist just inside his glove. 

He still wasn’t meeting her eyes. “But then Sandaime-sama gave me a genin team; all but tossed me out of ANBU. I had been living, breathing, sleeping ANBU for half my life... it was just easier. There are no personalities in ANBU; your teammates are masks and not people, and your missions are just numbers on your file. No one saw you in ANBU, and there’s no purpose beyond completing your mission.”

Sakura bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her emotions guarded. She tried to imagine him, the infamous Hound. The monster in the dark, a legend of the shadows. Cold, ruthless and deadly. She could barely reconcile it with this fidgeting, vulnerable man sitting beside her.

“I failed fourteen teams,” he revealed, tugging his glove off to properly scratch his wrist, where a red line was beginning to form.

Sakura tried to ignore how her hand was itching to slap his away, before the skin tore from the abuse.

“I’d almost forgotten how society functioned, and I had no idea what made a good ninja or a bad one anymore. All I knew was I wasn’t one of the good ones and I’d taint those children. So I followed Obito’s nindo, the only thing I could trust and the only thing that made sense.” Kakashi scruffed his wrist against his knee, like that might stifle his untamable itch.

Sakura debated soothing it with her medical chakra, but didn’t want to do anything that might make him stop talking.

“Those who break the rules are trash,” he quoted before motioning at himself and laughing derisively, “and those who abandon their friends are worse than trash.” 

He slumped and pinched the bridge of his nose before leaning back against the cold metal of the rail. The sky was a deep indigo now, the stars glimmering softly in the distance and semi-obscuring his features in darkness.

Moonlight graced one side of his face, highlighting every emotion in his eye and plunging the other into shadows. “Team Seven passed. I hadn’t planned anything beyond that. I didn’t know what I was doing ninety-percent of the time. I signed you up for the chuunin exams to show you how outmatched you were while secretly hoping and praying you’d quit being ninja so I’d never have to bury you, too.”

She couldn’t look at him then, because her heart was already dangerously close to being an open wound for him, and he didn’t deserve the pity.

But when he looked barely held together like that, and bravely traipsed through those painful memories for her sake… 

“I didn’t want to care but I did. You were just children, still green and naive and you thought the whole world bowed to your whims and that being a ninja was fun and honourable.” His nails were scratching at his other wrist now and Sakura couldn’t understand this new tick; just where did he pick up this annoying habit? “I thought maybe, just maybe, I could do it. I could try to give you a chance at survival. But you know how that went. I failed spectacularly— and who didn’t see that coming? Did you know that when Sandaime-sama handed me a genin team Genma and Raido went to him and demanded that he reconsider? They tried to fight it for weeks.

So. My first students. One turned traitor and left the village, one sought another mentor, and the last one lost his sanity the moment his teammate left and made it his life goal—the entire world be damned—to bring him back,” Kakashi took a long breath, but somehow Sakura knew it wasn’t enough. “I wanted to give up so badly. Every step of the way … but I couldn’t breathe thinking about Sasuke with Orochimaru ... I had to get him back even if I died trying.”

He paused, clearly needing a few moments to compose himself. “I was going to get Sasuke back and then I was going to do it right. We would be a team, a proper one, and I’d have— a legacy, a reason to live, whatever. It didn’t matter, I just wanted you all back.”

Sakura bit her lip as she furiously tried to hold back her tears; she hastily wiped away one that managed to escape, hoping and praying he wouldn’t notice. 

If she dared to look at him, she would have seen that he was close to tears himself. “And when Sasuke died,” he eventually managed, voice thick and choking on his words, “I knew I’d really, finally failed.”

“Fuck,” Sakura hissed as her temper finally snapped. She grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, no longer caring if he saw her tears. “You didn’t think I felt like that too?! You didn’t think Naruto felt that way, too?!”

Kakashi’s eyes were stubbornly fixed to the side, refusing to meet her gaze. His posture was limp and defeated. “God fucking dammit, if you’d gotten your head out of your ass you might have noticed that you still had us! And that we needed you! And that we’d already lost one fucking teammate! ” She shoved him hard as she let him go, leaving him to tumble back bonelessly.

It was too much. She couldn’t take this. She couldn’t take his pain and misery when she was drowning in her own. She couldn’t soothe his wounds when he’d poured salt and shards of glass on hers.

She wanted to forgive him but she couldn’t fucking breathe when she remembered how he’d abandoned them.

Sakura straightened back up to her full height, her entire body heaving from a tsunami of tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. “I’m sorry that you lost your first team,” a sob wretched from her throat, through her locked teeth. “But you don’t get to receive pity for giving up on your second one.”

Sakura rose the next day feeling wrecked. There was a stubborn knot in her shoulder that wouldn’t give no matter how much she kneaded it, and a pulsing headache that brutalized the right side of her head. 

She sighed, burying her face in her hands and let out a shaky breath. It didn’t ease the weight in her heart, or the roiling in her stomach but she struggled to her feet and stretched.

Captain Fu was standing on the dock when she exited her sleeping compartment, one she had to share with four other fishermen with just a draped fishnet for privacy. He gave her a fleeting look, dark grey hair billowing in the wind.

In the yellow light of the morning, his face looked less harsh, age-lines less severe. He reminded her vaguely of Iruka-sensei, and if he had Naruto’s eyes it would have given her the impression that he could have been very handsome in his youth.

“Morning!” He called politely before turning back to survey the glittering expanse of the sea. 

Sakura approached him slowly, still trying to work the tension out of her frame. He was smiling when she finally came to a stop beside him. 

“Morning,” She replied a bit sullenly, and arched a curious eyebrow when he chuckled.

“Hatake-san still giving you trouble?” 

Sakura tried to blink away her surprise, but he saw it before she could rearrange her face into something more neutral.

“I saw you storming off yesterday,” He elaborated, prompting heat to rise in her cheeks. “Not that it’s any of my business, but young women shouldn’t waste their tears. Not over some man.”

Sakura wasn’t sure what prompted her to respond, but she found herself admitting, “He’s not just some man.”

Fu hummed noncommittally, hands burrowed in the pockets of his dark blue coat. He had a strong and sure posture, almost ramrod straight, but there was a quiet and subtle tranquillity to his bearing that gave Sakura the same vibe as the sea; a vast expanse of calm that belied dangerous depths. 

Again, Sakura wasn’t sure what made her elaborate. “He’s my … he was, my team leader.”

Fu glanced at her, gauging. “What happened?”

Sakura grudgingly pushed down a string of bitterness and hurt. “He just left,” she said numbly. 

Fu’s eyebrows shot up. “Left?”

“Yes,” Sakura sighed softly, clenching her palms together behind her back and turning her gaze to the water. The sight of her element had always been comforting. “My teammate died, and he left us because he couldn’t handle another loss.”

“But he's back now?” It was just a question, asked without any connotation or inflexion.

“For better or for worse. I - I … want to forgive him. But every time I see his face, I feel like it takes everything in me not to break.”

Fu was silent for a long moment, the only sound between them the loud howling of the wind. “... you love him, don't you?”

Sakura stuttered, not at his boldness - but because this was the first person to ever suspect her true feelings. The next breath she took burned from the salt in the air, but at the very least it was grounding.

“What does it matter in the grand scheme of things?” she shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. Loving Kakashi was wrong, and above all, masochistic. She swore when he left her soaking cold on his doorstep that she wasn’t going to love him anymore. 

“Do you think you are angry at him for abandoning your team... or abandoning you?” There was no accusation at all in his voice, but Sakura had to stop herself from bristling. 

“No. This isn’t about me. We were grieving the loss of one teammate and then he went ahead and made us grieve the loss of him, too. He was supposed to be there. It was a failure on all our parts and he was supposed to be there and bear it with us. But he left. He left for two years .”

When she turned to Fu again, her breath caught under the intensity of his all-knowing gaze.

Eventually, he rested a friendly hand on her shoulder, a strong gust of wind barrelling into them with the same force of the words he imparted. “My advice for you is … Whatever it is you decide to do,” he said slowly, eyes roaming her face. “Don’t let bitterness steal away what happiness you could have had.”

Mizugakure was cold, somber and blue. Indigo skies and azure seas enclosed the land on all sides. Her pack sat heavily on her shoulders, filled with weapons, clothes, ration bars and scrolls. 

They smelled strongly of brine and fish, and the damp air made the scent that much more prominent. But this wasn’t insurmountable; Sakura had smelled like worse things in her life.

She and Kakashi hadn’t so much as exchanged a glance since their confrontation two days ago, and the tension was near palpable when paired with their dreary surroundings. Unlike Konoha, which was pretty in the winter with a coat of white and festive lights, Mizu was somnolent and dark, its chill biting and bone-deep. 

Their dock was bare at four in the morning, the heavens still interlaced with the receding night. Twenty-something ships sat moored to the wharf, their metal bodies coated with perspiration and their windows foggy from the cold. 

Sakura bit her lip and came to a decision. If they were going to work together they needed to talk. 

“Let’s find an inn,” she managed through gritted teeth. 

She didn’t wait for his response before swiftly heading towards the buildings in the distance. 

The dirt road gave way to a paved path, sleek with ice that glimmered dangerously in the dim light of dawn. The winds grew stronger the further into town they walked, as the narrower spaces between buildings seemed to amplify its strength.

Eventually, they had to stop and stand silently under an awning as the skies split open. Hail as big as ice cubes rained down viciously, shattering on the ground upon impact.

“There’s a storm coming.” His voice, low and raspy from disuse, startled her.

Wide green eyes moved to regard him cautiously. “What?”

“There’s a storm coming,” he reiterated, jerking his chin at the onslaught of hail. “I can smell it.”

Of course. Kakashi’s nose was terrifying. Sakura suppressed a shudder. She should have guessed from the biting cold and ominous clouds in the distance, but she didn’t think it’d arrive this soon.

“Should we go?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she cursed herself for initiating a conversation with him. 

“Unless you fancy rain and thunder …” he trailed off.

She studied the hail pounding the pavement and sighed miserably. “I’ll take my chances with the hail,” she announced, more to herself.

He simply nodded.

The hail wasn’t friendly, to put it mildly. When Sakura and Kakashi finally found an open inn, Sakura was sure she had red welts all over her scalp and she was dripping water on the carpet covering the entrance.

The receptionist looked at them with a constipated expression, as if she was holding back laughter.

As she was still firmly upset with Kakashi, she left him to deal with her. 

They needed to establish a cover story for later. They weren’t openly posing as shinobi, even if they weren’t hiding it either. If someone saw them they’d think they were on vacation (although Sakura wondered who in their right mind would visit Mizu in early winter and call it a holiday). 

When Kakashi returned, eye faintly twitching with a key in hand, Sakura had to repress a smile.

“Let’s go.”

The receptionist was not-very-subtly eyeing his rear as they walked away, a dreamy look on her face. Sakura almost snickered at Kakashi’s discomfort.

When he ushered them into room sixteen and shut the door, his expression settled into something desperate and annoyed. “Listen, I know you hate my guts. But this is a mission where we’re using you as bait. If our communication is this compromised it could potentially get us killed. So how about you just— treat me like you’d treat any random team captain you’re assigned to for the duration of this mission? No withholding information or suspicions, and absolutely no wandering around on your own, unless I know your whereabouts.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes and gathered as much dignity as she could muster. It was tempting to throw a tantrum and snap at him, but she was aware of how unprofessional that would be (would Kakashi ever write her up for insubordination? Would it be worth finding out?). The worst part was that he was being completely reasonable about it. They were mission partners, and that required a certain amount of interaction and dual planning. 

Taking a moment to soften the severity of her tone, Sakura very slowly said, “I guess that’s … alright.”

Kakashi’s face suffused with relief. “Good. Thank you.”

Desperate to escape the tension, Sakura dropped her bag on the couch—entirely ignoring the king-sized bed and all its implications—and announced: “Well, I’m going to scout this place. How long do you think we’ll stay here?”

“We’ll wait for the storm to pass and then we’ll see if those trails can be salvaged. We’ll take it from there.” His reply was crisp and monotoned. 

Good. A somewhat strained and professionally distant relationship shouldn’t be too hard for her then. Sakura nodded to let him know she understood, and got out of there soon after.

“Mission report?”

Sakura huffed. “A squirrel tried to attack me for accidentally stepping on its tail but otherwise, nothing seems amiss.” 

She was dealing with her (frankly inappropriate) emotions with equally inappropriate humour that seemed to startle Kakashi at first. But now, it was apparent this was the only method of communication they could both stand. 

That, and scathing sarcasm. 

They’d traversed Mizu’s towns and harbours under the guise of collecting medicinal herbs and studying the effects of a heat jutsu on civilians for the past two weeks.

The latter was a risky bargain that was initially treated with suspicion. But when it became apparent that this could change winter for civilians (especially the ailing elderly), their efforts were met with increasing awe. 

Still, after scouting four towns, Sakura was growing skeptical of their wild goose chase. The scent at the abduction location did not seem to carry anywhere specific, but with the help of Pakkun they were able to determine the general direction that their targets were headed in.

And the further east they went, the colder it became. 

“We’ll stop here,” Kakashi announced, glaring at the snow-covered mountains in the distance. “We need a new plan.”

“No shit,” Sakura muttered as she followed him to yet another inn. 

If Kakashi was dismayed by her behaviour (which technically did border on insubordination), he didn’t show it, nor did she expect him to. She knew her words wounded him, but it was the least he could sustain, in her humble opinion. 

She had shouldered the burden of Team Seven single-handedly when he should have been there bearing the weight with her. She wouldn’t have held it against him if he’d fallen apart. After all, she frequently did herself in the first few months following Sasuke’s death. The problem was that he chose to remove himself from the picture, leaving another gaping hole in their team. 

Naruto was too weakened to a shadow of his former self to care. And Sai was too used to being abandoned and discarded for it to truly phase him. 

Sakura wondered if maybe she was the odd one out here. How many times had Kakashi let her down in the past? Favouring Naruto and Sasuke, leaving her to her own devices. At times she used to comfort herself with the knowledge that he knew she didn’t need his guidance as much; that she was mature and level-headed and didn’t require him to babysit her. And then she was apprenticed to Tsunade and Sakura stopped caring altogether what the men on her team thought of her.

Kakashi letting her down became a trend in her teenage years. In hindsight, Sakura knew Kakashi was just trying to protect them in his own way (no matter how misguided that was), and that he tried altering his behaviour in the following years. But she still wondered if she was at fault for believing she deserved more from him in the first place… if that’s what led them down this path.

(And she vehemently silenced her inner voice insisting that as always, it was her own misplaced feelings that were at fault; that they drove Kakashi away the same way they did Sasuke before him. 

That it was her. Always her, that sent the people she loved running).

Inside the inn again, Kakashi unfolded a table-sized map of Mizugakure. It was mostly blue, with a cluster of small islands. Their destination was a mountain range in the east. The medic in her had already mentally mapped out a travel plan that would account for oxygen levels, calculating how long it would take them to naturally acclimate to the weather so they could conserve their chakra for body heat.

She wasn’t excited at the prospect of spending weeks in the freezing wilderness with only Kakashi and howling winds for company. 

Kakashi, who’d been quietly studying the map while Sakura was lost in her thoughts, cleared his throat. 

She took a step closer, lifting a brow as her gaze dropped to the map.

He was pointing at a region on the left side of the mountainous area. “There’s a small village located, roughly ... somewhere around here.” He tapped his fingers on the parchment twice. “It’s a secluded little place and they’re averse to outsiders but they had a suspicious network growing there years ago. I believe they used the guise of trading to sell illegal drugs ... or at least that’s what I understood from Genma. It wouldn’t be far fetched to scout it in case our cute little doctor-haters stopped there for some sightseeing.” 

Sakura shrugged—her customary response to anything Kakashi said. “Wouldn’t hurt, I suppose.”

“We better stock up in the meantime,” Kakashi continued, like she hadn’t spoken at all. “This is our last stop until then. It’s snow and nothing from here on out.”

This was something Sakura was dreading, despite the fact that her body was able to cope with the cold better than anyone. Her fine chakra control allowed her to pump blood closer to the surface of her skin and more easily trap heat, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“I’ll get the food,” she announced, not waiting for his response before she stalked out of the room once more. 

Sakura let out a weary sigh once she was out of sight. She was so tired of this. It might’ve been the result of her own doing, but anger and gnawing guilt began to solidify in her chest in equal measure as Kakashi continued to quietly and determinedly carry her resentment. 

It was hard to be angry at someone who accepted what they did was wrong, and was actively seeking atonement. And a part of her hated him for that, too. 

Sakura momentarily put her thoughts of Kakashi to rest as she browsed the sparse market for food. She ended up with a multitude of canned and dry goods and splurged on a few chocolate bars (which she didn't regret in the least).

She may or may not have also wasted an hour window shopping, although the only clothes on display were heavy winter coats, and not even the practical ones she might have found good use for later.

But eventually, she had to make her way back to him (and wasn’t that how it always was? How she stayed even when everyone chose to leave; how she’d go crawling back even if it scraped her knees raw along the way?)

She didn’t know what was worse: the anger still choking her throat despite her outburst a fortnight ago, or the ever-growing urge to forgive him and move on. 

Because hell if she didn’t love him, even the worst parts of him ...

Sakura still had so much she wanted to say to him. She wondered if she could ever let go without getting it all out of the way first.

Spending nights with Kakashi under the cover of a roof or a cave or the sky was familiar, except now there was an ever present tension of resentment, unfulfilled desires and words left unsaid clouding the spaces between them. 

Sakura felt exhausted all of a sudden. So exhausted, in fact, that when she stepped into their shared room that night she leaned heavily against the door and wondered if her knees would give way if she let them.

Kakashi was sitting in one of the armchairs with his Icha Icha, looking up at her. And she saw it all—how he struggled to comfort her without offending her; how he wanted to be there for her but didn’t think he had the ability to do so anymore.

“Fuck,” Sakura muttered to herself, aware that his eyebrows were steadily crawling up his forehead. 

She met his quietly expectant gaze, and didn’t know what compelled her to say: “Do you know how much I want to forgive you, but not, at the same time?”

Kakashi’s mystified blink was enough to convey his answer. It was that one stupid, guileless look that broke her.  

And as always in her case, words better left unsaid came rushing out. 

She scrubbed her face and tried not to tremble in frustration. “I’m tired. All I think about is you. For the last year, every night, every day, I hated you, and I missed you, and I hated myself for missing you, and it’s a vicious cycle that still hasn’t stopped.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened a fraction, and the book in his hand went slack.

“You know, I want to be able to look at you and not want to cry. How pathetic is that? You probably hadn’t even thought of me once while you were gone. Do you know how you make me feel? It’s like I’m twelve again, with Sasuke ignoring me, and feeling constantly helpless and disregarded. It’s not fair. You get to leave whenever you bloody well please, and you just— wreck everything on your way out.” 

Sakura knew shame and embarrassment would come later, but right then it felt so good to just let it out . 

Out of her system and off her chest so she could finally breathe for once.

“You’re unbearable. I want to … I want— t-to just be okay again.”

And then there was silence. And the worst part? Her heart still felt heavy with the million other things she couldn’t bear to tell him, especially those three heavy words that had been lodged in her throat forever. 

Kakashi carefully set down his book and leaned down to rub his palms across his clothed thighs in a surprisingly vulnerable display of uncertainty. “Listen, I …” his words came out strangely thick, and he paused to clear his throat. “I’m not very good at this whole talking about my feelings thing,” he grimaced, probably remembering the disaster that was their last confrontation.

He looked at her from beneath his unruly silver hair with those dark eyes that made her heart lurch. “I …” he made a vague motion with his hand, “say things and they come out wrong.” He sighed then, soft and tired. “Listen, Sakura … it hurt me too. Being away from you guys. I missed you, too ... I thought about you, too. I’m not heartless ... I didn’t spend years risking my life for all of you out of some obligation. I did it because living without any of you would be— is... unbearable.”

His jaw clicked shut, and she watched as he struggled to work out his words.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he eventually managed, quietly, sincerely. “I was blinded by my own pain. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Does that make it better? Sakura asked herself. Does his pain bring you closure?

A familiar sting was building behind her eyes, and it made her want to claw them out before any tears dared to escape.

“I would do anything to take it back.” His nails dug into his thighs, the material of his jounin pants bunching and crinkling. “And anything to get you to forgive me. Because I truly am sorry.”

“If that’s true, why didn’t you come back sooner?” Sakura tried to keep her voice level, even as she felt the first tears fall. 

“My mission held me back but I swear I wanted to return the moment I left. The last thing I wanted was to lose you, too.”

Damn him.

Sakura’s fingernails dug into her palms, hoping it would keep her from hitting or hugging him. But that didn’t stop her feet from taking a step to close their distance—which she swiftly aborted the moment she realized what she’d done.

Kakashi stood up abruptly too, but stopped. He was like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to proceed, but recognizing the need to do something. 

He made up his mind in the next second. He took three long strides to enter her space, and cupped her face with his large palms.

Sakura ceased breathing with that simple gesture. Her heart faltered and all at once, she was his eyes’ captive.

“Please,” he begged, his tone so soft, “let me make this right.”

She ducked to try and hide her tears, and buried her face in his chest.

Her heartache didn’t exactly go away, but it abated in some ways and unfurled in others, especially when his arms wrapped around to bring her even closer. 

Here, in his embrace, against the heat of his broad, solid chest, Sakura heard his heartbeat… and it was racing and faltering just like her own.

And the fight fled from her.

She stayed in that spot until the frantic rhythm of his heart quelled the pain in her chest; until his presence settled back into her being where it belonged; until she started to feel whole again instead of a mess of battered and broken pieces.

She stayed until the heat fanning her face turned her cheeks red, and pulled away when his solid masculinity against her curves threatened to arouse a need in her she usually kept locked away.

Kakashi let her go, slowly, and still a tad unsure. “Okay?” he asked hesitantly.

Sakura gulped down a torrent of emotion and want. “Okay,” she decided.

They left early in the morning, before daybreak. It was freezing cold, despite the coats they donned and their artificial circulation of chakra. 

They traveled in companionable silence for once. 

Perhaps they would be okay, eventually. When all was said and done, and when something put an end to this one-sided love she felt for him.

They crested up the sides of mountains, winding up curved roads and soon snow covered up all visible signs of trails, the dirt roads disappearing under inches of crunching white. 

In hindsight, this mission was extremely stupid. A wild goose chase in Mizu, tracking an unknown enemy with obscure trails. 

And Sakura thought that perhaps sending Kakashi and her on this mission wasn’t Tsunade’s brightest decision to date. In so many ways, this had been a complete disaster, work-wise at least. 

They’d spent weeks being too stubborn, and uncooperative; Kakashi unresponsive and Sakura, essentially insubordinate.

If Tsunade had seen the way they interacted with each other, she might have suspended both of them. Regardless of the fact that they kind of, sort of, maybe, made up.  

However, none of that changed the fact that they’d spent two weeks in Mizugakure and hadn’t made much progress to show for it. 

It was frankly embarrassing for ninja of their calibre, but Sakura was going to count her blessings. 

They hadn’t murdered each other, and they’d kind of, sort of, maybe, made up.

Surely that counted for something, right?

Sakura was so lost in her thoughts, she only heard the whizzing of a senbon with a second to spare. She immediately ducked as her well-honed reflexes kicked in.

A part of her brain she didn’t care to focus too much on noted that perhaps this was why lovers weren’t allowed to work together, and relationships were discouraged between teammates—because feelings were stupid, and distracting and conflicts could be damning—while the other part of her brain urged her to assess their danger, Kakashi hot on her heels. 

“Where are they?” she hissed, trusting Kakashi’s nose to be more accurate than her senses.

“Your six o’clock,” Kakashi’s hands were shaping seals, way too fast for her eyes to follow. “Two—no, three ninja, definitely jounin.”

The world around her lost some of its sharpness. “Concealment genjutsu?”

“No. Redirection. So we can retreat and set up some traps. We want them alive right? This far out they have to be our target,” Kakashi explained in a rush and sprinted up. 

Sakura followed him, eyes darting anxiously from side to side.

She still didn’t see the enemy that blurred her way.

A vicious elbow to the side knocked the air out of her and sent her tumbling. Sakura tried to re-orient herself mid-tumble but the second her feet found stable ground the same ninja landed too close for comfort. 

Sakura whirled aside, ungracefully, and managed to knock his feet out from under him. She kicked him hard, and he went flying a few feet ahead. 

If the force of her kick didn’t kill him, she didn’t know what would.

Before Sakura could find out, a more seasoned looking nin whipped out a sword and charged.

“Kuro, you idiot! She’s the Hokage’s student!” The man battling Kakashi howled after his teammate. His second of inattention cost him his life. He went down with a gurgle, a kunai buried in his throat and his blood spraying Kakashi’s side.

“Fuck!” Kuro redirected and fell back. Sakura wasn’t about to let him get away, but something strange happened.

The ice trembled. She looked up, saw a potential avalanche in the making and blanched.

The man grinned at her from afar. “Still think it’s a good idea to punch your way out of this, pinkie?”

Sakura bared her teeth. “Eager to find out how many other ways I could kill you?” 

The man scowled, and in a second he was joined by three more ninjas. 

Sakura met Kakashi’s eyes. It had been so long since they fought together, but that couldn’t undo years of being on the same team, watching each other’s backs.

Kuro retreated, glinting senbons between his knuckles while his comrades closed in. That could be problematic. The senbon might be poisoned, so she had to avoid getting hit at all costs.

Kakashi and one of the men clashed, sword against kunai. Sakura spared a moment to worry about his reach compared to the sword-wielder, but ultimately had to focus on her own opponents. 

At first glance, the three ninjas were bland and unremarkable. No haiti-ate, single swords clasped to their backs and hips, and a white cloth covering their mouths. They either favoured kenjutsu or the swords were to distract from something more sinister. 

Sakura’s fingers curled. If they thought her monstrous strength was all she had going for her, they were sorely mistaken. “Alright, boys, who wants to go first? Kuro?”

He snarled at her, his senbon gleaming ominously from the light reflecting off the snow. The man standing to his right gave them a single look before all three dispersed. 

Her only warning was the sudden shadow looming in her peripheral. Sakura ducked, the sword shearing off a few strands of pink hair and sprinkling them across white. The man moved to evade her reach, but Sakura was faster, her chakra coated hand striking fragile tendons.

He stumbled, knee buckling, and hastily caught himself by jamming the tip of his sword in the snow. He went skidding, and tumbled just outside her range, abandoning his weapon. 

His teammate was quick to grab him by the collar and haul him back before Sakura could cause any more damage. She got the impression he was the weakest link, but she found herself too busy engaging Kuro’s senbon and angry glare to investigate further.

His fighting style was vicious and unrefined, not something she expected from a senbon wielder.  They were usually controlled and calculating; every strike aimed for maximum efficiency. Kuro had a lot of senbon with seemingly no aim, and it was setting off all of Sakura’s alarm bells.  

His two teammates were circling now, staying out of range, entirely too secure in the knowledge that she couldn’t punch an avalanche down on their heads. It was so tempting to throw caution to the wind and bury them under a ton of snow.

Kuro’s healthy teammate did a rapid in and out dance armed with kunai and speed, moving just within her reach. He backed out just as quickly, causing enough of a distraction to split her attention. 

Kuro’s aim was still way off. 

Sakura’s eyes tracked the stray senbon. They littered her surroundings in a seemingly random pattern, surrounding her on all sides. 

The back of her neck started itching. 

Kakashi’s opponent let out a guttural noise and dropped. Kakashi was immediately at Kuro’s teammates, electricity in his fist sending wild sparks everywhere. 

The injured man snarled, “Jin, catch!”

Jin whipped something out of the air, too fast for Sakura to see, especially as Kuro moved in too close and took up all her attention. This was her chance!

Chakra roared in her veins, her fist glowing deadly green as she took aim. 

Then something very wrong happened. Pain lanced up her foot, jolting her, and for a moment her vision blacked out. Sakura dodged a fist at the very last moment, twisting hard as she tried to strike back. Her fist found purchase but there was no chakra behind the punch. No chakra in her veins. 

Kuro merely let out a hiss at the contact and brought his elbow down in what was sure to be a bruising hit. Sakura tried to move out of the way but her neurons were misfiring, and she stumbled. 

His elbow only lanced her shoulder, but the pain was stabbing and throbbed everywhere. A surprised cry wrenched from her throat as she fell down on one knee. Kuro could’ve killed her this close. 

“Sakura!” Kakashi’s scream was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the ringing in her ears from the rush.

Sakura’s next move was thoughtless. She threw her head back and butted Kuro in the stomach with all her might.

He grunted, but used the opportunity to grab hold of her hair and yank.

Now Sakura was furious. Her seal unfolded, consequences be damned. She was going to bring this bastard down. 

Kakashi made a noise of alarm; Sakura wished she could see what took him by surprise, and was anxious to know what caused his distress …  But all that mattered was the clean surge of chakra that shook off the bothersome effects of the foreign jutsu and snapped them to tatters. 

Blood trickled out of her nose, as she aimed her chakra, wild and unrestrained, and blasted Kuro off. 

What followed was a silent moment of blissful nothing before the pain of what she just did took hold and dropped her down on all fours, her chakra system frayed at the edges.

Black and white spots fielded her vision, leaving the world in a blur. It only sharpened back to clarity with the excruciating agony that exploded in her shoulder. 

Kuro’s weakened teammate used her moment of weakness to strike, but Sakura wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t evade. She rolled aside, fighting waves of pain, before his kunai could come down again and lashed out with a chakra charged foot to his chest. 

She felt his heart stop before pain numbed all her senses as chakra scorched through her charred pathways. 

She barely felt Kakashi’s sudden presence by her side before he grabbed her and scaled them both down the side of the mountain.

Biting winds were enough to distract Sakura from the pain, and Kakashi’s profuse bleeding.  Dark red soaked through his shirt and stained her coat. They landed roughly, jarring her insides and eliciting a hiss out of Kakashi. 

But his steps didn’t falter. He raced and skidded against snow, tightened his grip around her and launched them up the side of a rock. 

It was apparent something was very wrong with Sakura, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to the foreign chakra in her system, the shock of experiencing chakra overload, or both. 

She felt dizzy, nauseated and faint. 

The next hour was a blur. White, silver and cold blended into one fuzzy memory and the next thing she knew she was in a cave, on her back, with a small fire crackling in the corner and Kakashi sitting shirtless trying to bandage his bleeding side. 

She tried to talk, but his name strangely stuck in her throat and she shivered, hard. 

Kakashi tied the bandage and rose with a wince, “It’s okay, don’t move... I barely managed to bandage that shoulder.”

He lowered himself by her side, hissing between his teeth and his brows drawn in pain. Sakura watched him through the bleary haze of fever and tried to remember her train of thought. “W-what …” she dissolved into coughs, “... happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is if you’re okay. I sent for back-up, so just rest for a while. They’ll be here soon. Do you know what hit you?”

Sakura shook her head dazedly. “Something disoriented my chakra—I couldn't aim it where I wanted it to go.”

Kakashi sighed. She shivered again, so hard she was afraid her teeth would shatter. 

She was already covered in her coat and Kakashi’s, and felt guilty watching him endure the elements shirtless. “C’mere,” she breathed out, raising the makeshift blanket an inch.

He hesitated, glanced towards the entrance of the cave, her eyes, and then finally at the empty space next to her. “Are you sure?”

“Come. Here.” He didn’t ignore the demand. He stiffly repositioned himself until he was lying next to her, side pressed against her side.

He was warm, hot even, cradling her body until the goosebumps abated. She curled into him, uncaring of what he might think of it. “Did he escape?”

“Hm,” Kakashi grunted.

He shifted, and to her surprise, fit her against him. 

It took Sakura a tentative moment to relax into his hold, and she rested her palm on his hip. When he mirrored the action, she closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath. 

Her head throbbed, her nerves were frayed, and everything hurt everywhere as Sakura lost her fight against consciousness.  

She dreamt of dark eyes and warm hands and all the things she wished she could say.

It all came down to this moment, trapped together in a cave in Mizugakure, so cold and so warm at the same time, with so much heartbreak and want between them. Fear of the jumbled chakra in her veins and the warmth of his blood soaking through his bandages, and nowhere to go until back-up arrived.

Sakura watched his dark eyes, his lashes fluttering slowly as if tentatively nudging him towards sleep.

“You’re braver than me,” he eventually confessed, to the thickening silence between them.

His words grasped her remaining fears and effectively dissolved them. Suddenly, it was all Sakura needed to hear. All the affirmation she’d looked for to try and convince herself it wasn’t all in her head. That the overwhelming feelings in her chest sat trapped in his as well.

“Perhaps,” she agreed, her heart racing. “What’s stopping you from being brave, too?”

The wind outside picked up in a sudden crescendo that drowned out the sound of his breathing, as if to warn her against the fragility of the moment they dared to share. 

Kakashi faltered.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, with his voice breaking in strange places, a stuttering orchestra that strummed along her heartstrings until they threatened to snap. “I don’t want to hurt you ... but I like you … Gods, I like you so much,” he murmured with his head bowed, “I can’t believe you thought I didn’t think of you once when I was gone ...”

It took him a moment to muster the courage to face her again with his next words. “Sakura... you were all I thought about, all the time.”

The clench in her heart was sudden and agonising, beating so hard against her ribcage she thought it might cave under the pressure. “... You say things like that, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

Kakashi’s half-lidded gaze slid lower in shame, but she’d dealt him enough pain already. It was enough now. Not because her hurt was gone, but because his pain only aggravated hers instead.

“I just wanted to be with you,” she carefully traced the line of his chin, “I wanted to be with you so badly it made me heartsick.”

The blood under her palm felt thick now, drying. She hoped the pressure would hold; that he would stop bleeding.

In some ways, with this gushing dam of words unleashed between them, they were both bleeding the same.

“Maybe we’re not so good for each other ...”

Sakura blinked at him, suddenly alert.

“Don’t make me hit you when everything hurts,” she warned, “how would you know that if you won’t even give us a chance?”

“Sakura, you saw first hand what happens to the things I love.”

It was true… she had. And if this cutting feeling in her gut was what it felt like to be loved by him, she swore she was ready to die by it. It would be worth it. If he could just love her back it would be worth it; all the anguish and all the anger and all the hurt and betrayal. Sakura would push it down, bury it in her heart and take whatever he was willing to give, take whatever he was willing to share.

“You’re so dramatic,” she murmured a little wetly.

She leaned closer to him and touched her forehead against his. “You’ve seen first hand too, what happens to the things I love.”

What has already happened to them. Because Sakura loved her broken things. She loved men with their sad, dark eyes, and bleeding hearts and weeping scars. She loved Kakashi, this — this mess of a person who didn't know how to let himself be loved, who never learned to forgive himself.

“I can’t believe you’re convincing me by letting me know we’re both walking into this with expectations to die,” Kakashi chuckled hoarsely, and Sakura got that same overwhelming need to just crawl under his skin and never untangle herself from him again.

“We’re not going to be a tragedy,” she decided, with a sudden conviction that startled even herself. “We’re angst with a happy ending.”

The coalescing seconds stretch into minutes, as heavy with tension as that cold night on his doorstep. 

Kakashi leaned closer into her, with a move that felt like finality. Sakura breathed him in a little deeper, until she felt him in her lungs.

“... I can live with that.” he smiled weakly under her imploring gaze.

“We’ll write a book,” she grinned, wondering if she was sinking back under the jumbled haze of chemicals in her body. “It’ll be great.”

“It would be great if our back up decided to walk in right now.” Kakashi shifted uneasily under her touch. “Before we turn into ice.”

“Hey, at least we killed two of those bastards… wish we got that last one.”

"That last one would kill us if he found us," Kakashi reminded her grimly.

The sudden shift of shadows made them freeze and Sakura's breath caught at the thought that this might be it. That they would be over before they even started. A tragic end to a tragic beginning of a love story that never got the chance to live and grow and heal.

But the looming shadows crept closer slowly and steadily, and when the figure came into view it wasn’t the man with the bandaged face and sharp shark-like teeth. It was Sai, who approached them like he was afraid of setting them off.

"Honeymooning in Mizukagure is a poor choice of a destination," he said by way of greeting, and Sakura had an abrupt and profound urge to hug him tightly and never let go.

"Sai," she croaked, just as Naruto and Yamato came into view. Sakura felt so faint with relief she worried she might pass out. "You're here."

"Not like you gave us much choice, Sakura-chan," Yamato-taicho's tone was laced with disapproval, but the pinch of his brows reflected his underlying concern.

Naruto came to their side without hesitation, kneeling behind Sakura and gently untangling her from Kakashi, who covered his face with his hand.

She allowed herself to shamelessly bury her face in Naruto's sturdy chest. His big palm sifted through her pink tresses. "I gotta agree with Sai, Sakura-chan."

"Shut up," she mumbled tiredly, "and just take me home already."

"So demanding," Naruto admonished gently, but his arm slipped under her knees in a firm bridal hold before he got back on his feet. "... You know I love you Kakashi-sensei, but I'm mad at you so I’ll let Sai carry you."

"... fair enough," Kakashi wheezed from somewhere on the left.

Sakura's vision dimmed, she felt so light-headed, like her brain was made of cotton, and Naruto's intoxicating warmth lulled her to sleep.

Sakura didn’t awake again until a familiar chakra sank under her skin.

“Mhngh,” her unintelligible noise earned her a snort.  

“Great, you’re awake,” Tsunade’s voice still seemed a little distant, “stay that way.”

Feeling slowly returned, starting with her eyes which she forced open to near-instant regret. “ Ow .”

“You know, I distinctly remember asking you to kick ass, not get your ass kicked,” she said blithely, with no real bite. 

Tsunade had a fair point. “I missed you too, shishou …”

Sakura tried flexing her fingers, and as soon as she achieved basic motor functions, she tried sitting up. 

Being vertical came with an abrupt wave of nausea which Sakura swallowed tightly against. “Please tell me they killed the third bastard,” she asked through clenched teeth.   

“Fried him,” Sai quipped from his perch on a chair in the corner. He had a bandage covering one cheek and another peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. 

Sakura hesitated, but only for a moment. “... What about Kakashi?”

Tsunade scoffed. “Recovering in a bed of his own. And he better be in that bed, or my foot will be getting intimately acquainted with his ass.” 

The Godaime stepped back with a satisfied nod. “Your body is already recovering by itself, so I just soothed your frayed pathways. You should take it easy though. Go home, shower and get some sleep. I can debrief you in the morning.”

What followed was some shuffling, and wheeling out of equipment before Tsunade left, pronouncing her discharged. 

Sai followed her out but not before turning to give Sakura a bland smile. “Glad you’re okay, hag.”

Sakura rolled her eyes fondly in exasperation. “Thanks, Sai.”

When Sai left and shut the door, Sakura eased off the bed with a wavering breath and went hunting for her clothes. They were filthy, but she wasn’t about to head home in a hospital gown no matter what anyone had to say about it.

The receptionist kindly directed her towards Kakashi’s room after some prodding, which found Sakura at the end of the hall on the first floor.

Of course, he was already fully dressed and looking to make a departure of his own.

“Making an escape?”

He glanced at her nonplussed, likely having sensed her from down the hall. “Going home,” he corrected, neatly folding his hospital gown.

“Have they discharged you?” 

“... No. But I’m fine. Just a little sore. A good night's sleep will do the job.”

Sakura sighed. “It’s your ass on the line,” she declared with a shrug. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully and opened the window.

Sakura followed him out, and noted the slight wince as he landed, likely from his recently-healed hip. 

“Heading home?” he asked with a strained breath.

“Well, that was the plan. Now I’m thinking maybe I should escort you home lest you fall into a ditch,” Sakura deadpanned.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “If you insist.”

They walked in silence, even when Sakura had a million things she wanted to say, starting with what happens now …

Kakashi was a steady, silent shadow at her side that didn’t falter even when they reached his apartment.

She had the feeling he was stewing silently before he finally reached a decision. “Want to come in for tea?”

Sakura wanted to, but … “I’m afraid of poisoning your couch. I desperately need a shower.”

“... you’re free to use my shower.”

Sakura swallowed. “And borrow your clothes?”

“Unless you’re opposed to black everything …” Kakashi trailed off, leaving the invitation open.

Well, to hell with it.

“Alright then,” she announced somewhat stiffly, and kicked her sandals off. 

Somewhere between her fourth and fifth step, she realized she’d never been in his apartment before. Sakura stopped walking and stood between his kitchen and living room with growing apprehension.

He had a small TV in the corner, a shelf full of books, scrolls hanging on the wall, green couches and a rug.

“It’s … neater than I expected.” 

“Why does everyone think I’m a slob?” Kakashi rubbed his face with a sigh and turned to the kitchen.

Sakura began to wonder if she should say something to break the ice. The tension between them now was different from the kind they shared for so many months before. It was brought forth by a confession uttered in the darkness of a cave, under circumstances that had left both of them vulnerable. It echoed now in the silence.

She suddenly felt weary again, and not just a little tired. Kakashi looked to her with inquiring eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m … confused,” she admitted after an uncertain pause. “About … where we go from here.”

He turned to face her as he waited for the kettle to whistle, settling the full weight of his gaze on her. “Well … Where do you want to go?”

Sakura inhaled a breath to try and temper her nerves. “Somewhere. With you.”

She got the impression that he was smiling a little, which eased something inexplicable inside of her. 

“Even if you find me fifty-percent insufferable?” 

“I find you eighty -percent insufferable. You probably find me at least twenty-percent annoying. I think we’ve both established we have no self-preservation skills. I still want to try.” Sakura was saying a lot of words she could barely hear over the blood pounding in her ears.

“Twenty-percent is an exaggeration. Maybe eighteen-percent.” His eyes squeezed into a long-forgotten, hidden smile.

Sakura had the sudden urge to rip his mask off.

One minute they were staring at each other in silence over the sound of the tap.

Drip…drip…drip.

And the next minute, the kettle shrieked loudly—but neither of them cared about the tea anymore.

Sakura’s body moved of its own accord as she closed the distance between them.

Kakashi met her in the middle, turning off the stove with one hand and grabbing her hip with the other. He spun her against the side counter as her hands clutched his shirt and then his mask.

And she finally gave in to temptation. His bare mouth met hers, wet and wanting. Her hands sunk into his mop of silver hair and tugged. He pressed her closer, chest to chest, tongue slick against her own and it was like she’d forgotten how to think or breathe. She stopped caring about everything that happened and everything that was bound to happen.

There was only the here and now, his stuttering pulse and the taste and feel of him…

“Kakashi,” she managed between fervent kisses. “Kakashi, wait - just… wait …”

Kakashi ripped himself away only to speak in a thick, gravelly voice that curled her toes. “No more overthinking.”

Sakura sucked in a realising breath.

This was it. He wasn't running anymore. They were really here - in his kitchen, with his face bare and his taste on her tongue and his body flush against hers... She had him, she realised… all of him.

Sakura leaned into him. “Take me somewhere we can’t go.”

An edge of something foreign darkened his gaze.

Kakashi ducked to capture her mouth as she rose on her tiptoes. They met in the middle again.

It stripped the breath from her lungs the way his head tilted this way and that, leading her in an unfamiliar dance that started with their lips and ended with his hands on her hips pulling her up onto the counter. 

His heat against her body and his smell was overpowering; leaving her dizzy and wanting in more ways than one. Her hands boldly pressed against his lower back as she parted her legs further to pull him in closer.

A growl rose in his throat, a sound she felt in her stomach.

His lips found her neck, licking and sucking, earning him breathless protests, "D-do—hah—don't, I need to shower."

Without a word, Kakashi’s arm spanned her waist and he deftly picked her up and maneuvered them out of the kitchen on muscle memory alone.

They hit a wall, and then a lamp, lost in desperate kisses. They briefly stumbled over a discarded slipper in his bedroom, and then a towel on the bathroom floor. 

Until finally, Sakura’s back met cold bathroom tiles and her hands sank under his pants to grip his ass. His hands slipped under her shirt in retaliation, mapping her torso before pulling it over her head.

They only broke apart long enough to rid her of it, leaving her hair a mess. Her chest was bound with dirty bandages, her stomach marred with faint white scars. 

Kakashi pressed against the hard muscles of her abdomen, relishing in the feel of her skin. But he didn’t have long before Sakura fumbled with the hem of his shirt, and yanked it up until he was left equally topless with his own mess of shaggy hair.

Sakura didn’t get to act on whatever she’d planned next, because he sank to his knees immediately thereafter, gripped the edges of her skirt and shorts and tugged down hard. The force of his pull made her lean back against the wall for support. She was grateful to have something to lean on, because the feel of his mouth on her hip sucking hard enough to bruise left her reeling.

Sakura choked down a noise, shyness and arousal warring for dominance. The vision of him kneeling at her feet with that wicked mouth on display promising things she wasn’t sure she'd survive left her lightheaded.

She'd lost count of the many fantasies she’d entertained about this man, but none of them held a torch to this. 

None of them left her so raw, aching, hot and wanting.

Sakura wanted to combust. 

And she nearly did, when his mouth finally found her clothed core.

She arched, fingers clutching his hair as she tried to hold herself together while her sensitive nerves flared under the press of his broad tongue.

"Shower," she grit out, but that only earned her a smoldering look as he leaned back and slowly peeled off her panties.

Kakashi tossed that final barrier aside, but Sakura pulled him up before he could think to place his mouth on her again.

He wound strong arms around her and held her close with another bruising kiss, while his fingers loosened her bindings just enough to yank them off.

Naked as she suddenly was, Sakura didn’t appreciate that Kakashi was still half dressed and instantly went to remedy that.

And what she found made her blush even brighter, if that was at all possible. His boxers fell away to reveal his growing erection, and she had an overwhelming urge to take him into her mouth.

Sakura guided them towards the shower again, desperate to get a little cleaner before they went any further (and Gods, did she want to reach her end with him). Kakashi followed, allowing her to lead them where she wanted.

The shock of cool water made them both jump a little, and Sakura couldn’t help squealing under the spray.

Kakashi stared at her… and had the audacity to chuckle.

"Don't laugh at me," she huffed, swiping damp hair out of her eyes. But the effect of her glare was lost when she was looking more like a wet kitten than anything else.

"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled again, gentler this time, as his palm curled over her cheek. "... I'm sorry," he repeated, more genuine this time.

The air between them misted and warmed.

"Less apologizing, more kissing," she demanded, when his gaze nearly dissolved her.

Kakashi appeased her, and it made Sakura's heart quiver to feel his smile against her lips.

She lost her train of thought in the moments that followed, too taken with sensations of wet and heat and taste to focus on anything else. Kakashi was a muscular, solid weight against her softer edges; every shared breath brought them closer together and his finely sculpted torso shivered under her wandering touch. 

Standing under the warming spray, naked and burning with a desire for something they’d both been ignoring for so long—was unravelling.  A heady part of her brain didn’t want to stop or leave. There were still things that would probably never be resolved; scarred parts of her that would likely never heal having festered in heartbreak for so long…

But Sakura could not bring herself to step away from this... step away from him. 

She realised the force of her grip had her nails leaving grooves on his pale skin and red trails marking up his sides. She loosened her hold. Because he wasn’t running anymore. 

His hands clutched the back of her thighs and hoisted her up and against the wall. Sakura shuddered from the cold tiles on her back, and her open heat against his hard front had her thrumming with anticipation. 

Her fingers found his hair and tangled within their strands. “Promise me you won’t leave again,” she begged against his mouth; kissing him with equal parts passion and desperation. “Promise me you’re here to stay …”

Kakashi let out a grunt, letting go of her lips with a sharp tug of teeth. He looked at her, face flushed, out of breath and so clearly reduced to his most primal self. “ Fuck Sakura, I’m not going anywhere after this.”

His words lit something demanding and impatient in her, but Sakura knew the fragility of the hope that blossomed in her chest. So she needed to ask him again. “Promise me,” she repeated, arousal and desperation in equal measure making her voice thick and unrecognizable. “Please, Kakashi …”

He kissed her long and hard, until air became a distant memory and only their heat remained. “I promise .”

Sakura blinked away tears she hoped the water would conceal. “Good…  Now make love to me.”

There’s a saying, somewhere, about the way people could make or break you. He touches her and she dissolves, and nothing else matters. He kisses her and it feels like a dying star igniting in one final inferno.

“I love you,” she tells him at last, while her breath is still ragged, and her body feels heavy and light and her soul is aching not because of scars earned but because of feeling too much. “I love you so much, it fucking hurts.”

When Kakashi turns to look at her, panting and flushed in the aftermath of his release, he is at once the most beautiful and vulnerable thing she’s ever seen. He says one last confession and it’s like the stars aligned. 

“I love you, too.”

In the end, he’s just a scarred man who’d left his heart in her hands. Sakura cradles it gently, because she knows what a shattered one feels like.

 It heals under her touch the way everything does, slowly but surely, until he's whole again. There were moments at first, where she’d thought she’d lost him, where everything was so broken and frayed, but Sakura held on with an iron grip until she pulled him to the surface.

Until she had him firmly by her side.

Under the cherry blossoms one spring, so many years later, he takes her hands in his and tells her he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, if she wants to. 

She smiles back and says, “I do.”