Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Lemonade Apocalypse
July 9th, 10:03 AM, Saturday
The couch groaned in sympathy as Sakura dropped into it like she’d just finished saving the world.
Which, to be fair, she hadn’t. She’d just jogged a modest five kilometers around the park and done twenty minutes of stretching in her living room like a very responsible adult. But the level of satisfaction in her bones was very post-world-saving, and she wasn’t about to question it.
Her skin was still warm from the shower, damp at the temples and behind her knees, and a single bead of water slid down her collarbone, disappearing beneath the thin strap of her black tank top. Her hair clung in lazy curls to the nape of her neck, slightly frizzy from humidity. She reached for her drink, the glass slick with condensation, and took a long, slow sip.
Tart. Ice-cold. A slap of lemon right to the tastebuds, with just enough sugar to keep it from veering into masochism. Her eyes fluttered shut.
This was the dream.
This was the dream.
No shifts at the hospital. No missions. No paperwork. No Naruto. No Sasuke. No Sai. No phone. No bra. No anything.
Just her couch. Her lemonade. The whisper of a breeze through the cracked window and the soft, soporific hum of the ceiling fan circling lazily above her like it had nowhere to be.
She tucked her legs up beneath her and wriggled into the cushions. Her bare feet found the familiar texture of the ugly but beloved throw blanket she refused to fold, and her muscles, still loose from stretching, sank gratefully into the cotton upholstery. The TV was off. Her hair was damp. The sunlit apartment felt alive with silence.
A breeze nudged the curtains. And then her phone buzzed. Not politely. Not inquisitively. Aggressively.
A small jackhammer on the wooden end table, loud enough to slice through the quiet like a kunai through rice paper.
Sakura did not open her eyes.
It buzzed again. Still she did not move.
It buzzed a third time — fourth, fifth, sixth — until it sounded like her end table had developed a neurological condition. She cracked one eye open.
“No,” she muttered. “No. You don’t get to do this to me.”
Another buzz.
Sighing like a woman being dragged to her own execution, she reached over and snatched the phone up, thumb already arched in menace.
Seven messages.
One sender.
Sakura blinked.
Then blinked again.
“…Kakashi?”
The screen read:
Kakashi (10:04 AM):
i hate this
Kakashi (10:06 AM):
can I take it back
Kakashi (10:08 AM):
what if i just step on it
Kakashi (10:10 AM):
naruto is going to use his phone now exclusively to harass me
Kakashi (10:15 AM):
this is sakura right
Kakashi (10:16 AM):
i hope it is
Kakashi (10:16 AM):
if i just texted some random person like a lunatic
Kakashi (10:18 AM):
seriously do they take phones back
Kakashi (10:18 AM):
i am digging a grave for genma right now
She stared.
A smile started small — just a curl of her lips, slow and almost sneaky. Then it spread. Her shoulders shook. She snorted once, loud and entirely unladylike.
“Oh my god.”
Because of course. Of course this was how Kakashi getting a phone would go.
She didn’t know who finally wore him down — Naruto with relentless enthusiasm, Genma with a badly thought-out dare, or Yamato with a lecture about mission coordination — but someone had clearly pushed the uncontactable cryptid into joining the digital age.
And this was the aftermath.
A panicked spiral of lowercase despair. Sent at intervals that implied deep reflection between each message, as if he’d paced the room, stared into space, and then flinched at the keyboard before continuing. It was — gloriously, perfectly — a technological meltdown in real time.
She stared at the screen a moment longer. Thought about replying. She could tease him. Reassure him. Play dumb. Quote his own texts back at him with increasing dramatic flair.
Instead, she set the phone down. Face-up this time. Took another sip of her lemonade. Smirked.
She was going to enjoy this. She was going to drag it out.
Kakashi (10:20 AM):
ok but really is this sakura
Kakashi (10:21 AM):
you haven’t said anything
Kakashi (10:21 AM):
i’m having a minor crisis here
That did it.
She burst out laughing. Not a snort, not a soft exhale — a real, full-bodied laugh that pushed out of her chest and filled the living room with its ringing, delighted sound.
Her body curled forward with it. She clutched her stomach. Her glass clinked against her teeth. She had to set it down before she choked.
“Oh, Kakashi,” she gasped, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. “You poor, stupid man.”
Another buzz.
Kakashi (10:21 AM):
i’m serious. if this isn’t you, stranger, please just delete these messages and pretend i’m a cryptid
She howled.
Actually howled.
This was better than a day off. Better than lemon. Better than naps. This was art. And possibly the best gift the universe had ever given her.
She propped the phone on her thigh, the glass of lemonade balanced in one hand, and let her thumbs fly.
Sakura (10:22 AM):
too late, you're already a cryptid
There was a pause. A full fifteen seconds of stillness — no buzzing, no replies — and for a moment she pictured Kakashi just… staring at his phone like it had betrayed him.
Then, finally:
Kakashi (10:22 AM):
fuck
Another message immediately followed:
Kakashi (10:23 AM):
i knew it
i felt it in my bones
genma probably sold my soul to a phone demon
Sakura grinned so hard her cheeks hurt.
Sakura (10:24 AM):
i mean
that does sound like something genma would do
but i think it’s more likely you’re just bad at technology
She took another sip of lemonade, leaned back, and glanced out the window. The wind pushed the curtain lazily to one side, revealing a slice of bright summer sky. Birds were chirping somewhere out there. Somewhere far away, unbothered. Unlike her, who was now hopelessly sucked into watching a 35-year-old elite shinobi unravel over autocorrect and touchscreen anxiety.
Her phone buzzed again.
Kakashi (10:25 AM):
bad is generous
i tried to answer a call earlier and accidentally took 17 screenshots
my entire gallery is now just photos of my own thumb
is that normal
Sakura wheezed. She didn’t mean to, it just happened. A full-body wheeze, followed by a helpless laugh that made her neighbors' cat outside scamper off in terror.
She wiped a tear from her eye, cracked her knuckles, and wrote:
Sakura (10:25 AM):
i’m crying
please send them
i need to see your thumb gallery
There was a longer pause this time. She imagined him just staring at the screen in horror. Probably mouthing “no” at the phone like it was a living being. She could see it — Kakashi, hair a mess, probably still wearing his jōnin uniform even on his day off because he refused to own loungewear, hunched over the screen like it might explode.
Another message pinged.
Kakashi (10:28 AM):
no
i would rather eat a live squirrel
and not the small cute kind
the big ones
the weird ones with rage in their eyes
Sakura let out a slow breath. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until this exact moment, sipping lemonade and watching Kakashi lose his entire will to live over a smartphone.
This was exactly what she’d needed today.
Not silence. Not solitude. Not even peace.
She needed this. This idiocy. This unexpected serotonin. This cryptid-texting, squirrel-hating, emotional car crash of a man.
She curled her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek on them, thumbs still moving.
Sakura (10:29 AM):
ok fine
no thumb pics
but tell me — who broke you down?
genma? naruto? yamato?
which menace finally made you cave
Kakashi replied almost instantly.
Kakashi (10:30 AM):
all three
like a coordinated assassination mission
they tricked me into lunch
yamato brought a folder
naruto brought dramatic speeches
genma brought gin
Sakura cackled. Loudly. She was going to owe her neighbors cookies at this rate.
Kakashi (10:31 AM):
anyway now i have this abomination
and it beeps
and vibrates
and somehow knows where i am at all times
i think it’s sentient
Sakura (10:32 AM):
the gps
that’s just the gps
Kakashi (10:33 AM):
it watched me walk into the bathroom and updated a map
i don’t like that
i don’t want a map of my bathroom experience locations
that should never be digital
Sakura dropped the phone on her stomach and laughed so hard she felt her abs twinge.
“Why is he like this?” she whispered, eyes wet.
She was never deleting this conversation.
After catching her breath, she typed:
Sakura (10:34 AM):
you can turn that off
also stop bringing your phone into the bathroom
that’s how people end up with cracked screens and trauma
Kakashi (10:35 AM):
too late
it’s already seen things
i think it blinked
She made a wounded little noise and rolled onto her side, curled around the phone like it was something precious. Because suddenly it was. This stupid day off had become her favorite one in weeks.
After a few minutes of quiet, she sent:
Sakura (10:35 AM):
i’m really glad you texted me first, you know
even if it was because you were spiraling
She meant it, but it felt too sincere. Too honest. She’d opened the door to real emotion by accident and immediately panicked. Her fingers darted to follow it up:
Sakura (10:36 AM):
cryptids don’t usually socialize
you must be going through something
There. Balance restored.
Kakashi didn’t respond right away. She could practically feel the beat of quiet coming through the silence — like he’d read the first message and paused a little longer than usual. Maybe he was squinting at it, unsure what to say. Or maybe he was just scrolling through his camera roll, deleting 17 cursed thumb portraits.
But then, finally:
Kakashi (10:40 AM):
i didn’t want to text genma
he’d gloat
and naruto would call
i figured you’d just laugh at me in peace
and maybe help me figure out how to make it stop buzzing every time someone breathes near me
Her chest warmed.
Sakura (10:41 AM):
that’s what friends are for
quiet ridicule and tech support
you called the right cryptid handler
Kakashi (10:41 AM):
handler??
i’m not a beast
Sakura (10:42 AM):
i’ve seen the way you fold laundry
you’re not not a beast
There was a pause. Then:
Kakashi (10:44 AM):
i fold it in battle order
that’s organization
Sakura (10:45 AM):
that’s a war crime
Another pause. Then three dots appeared and vanished. Then again. Then finally:
Kakashi (10:49 AM):
…do you wanna come over and help me set it up
like how do i turn off the news notifications
it yelled at me about bees this morning
it was 6am
Sakura blinked.
Something unspooled in her chest. Not romantic, not quite. Just...warm. Familiar. Like being chosen first for a mission. Or hearing someone say “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Sakura (10:50 AM):
i’ll come by tomorrow
bring snacks
prepare your thumbs
Kakashi (10:51 AM):
i’ll prepare the left over gin
She laughed, set her phone down, and picked up her lemonade again. The condensation dripped onto her tank top, and the breeze nudged the curtain against her foot.
It had started out as a day of quiet isolation.
But now, it had turned into something even better:
A perfect storm of stupid.
And she wouldn’t have traded it for anything.