Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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From high above the mortal realm, a figure hovers between worlds. The celestial light of the heavens at his back is warm and though he only just slipped from the Divine Flame’s embrace, it beckons him home already. Beams of pure light filter through the spaces between the feathers of his wings like fingers reaching for him. They curl around the buckles of his armor, the straps keeping the pauldron strapped to his shoulder, the sharp edges of his vambraces and he cannot yet bring himself to pull away from the safety of their touch.

Kakashi opens his hand and lets the light caress the flesh of his palm. The curling lines of the empyrean language inked into his skin glow like pure gold with black veins; a glittering promise written into the very fiber of his being. A promise to always bring him home.

His fingers close into a fist and the beat of his wings shift in front of the light, plunging him into the cold and dark that he faces. Before him, the mortal realm shimmers like oil collected atop a pool of water. He can make no sense of the shapes behind the veil but he knows what awaits him on the other side.

Even here, hovering in the between, he can already feel the static of humanity’s vices. Greed and pride taint the back of his tongue, lust and malice sizzle like flames and he almost glances down at himself to make sure fire isn’t licking at the soles of his feet. 

Ahead of him, two of his brethren have narrowed their wings at their backs. They dive face down toward the twisted shimmer of the mortal world and Kakashi hesitates no longer. In a snap, his wings straighten behind him and he lunges forward, following the sharp tips of his brothers’ wings.

Slipping from the celestial heavens into the between is a cold snap through his life’s blood…but diving into the mortal world is worse. A dreadful ache that grips the essence of his being with gnarled, jagged fingers. Every vice, every sin, washes through him at once.

The sins of humanity.

All of their wickedness eclipses the trace good amongst them.

He feels it all at once after eons of not feeling anything and takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

The sensation of plunging into the mortal realm is sickening and nearly brings him to retch the taste of it off the back of his tongue. Without looking at the faces of his brethren, he knows they experience the same disgust washing through their bodies. They touch down first and as Kakashi’s feet settle on the slick, grimy pavement, disgust curls his pale lip. 

Long gone are the towers of white and lush gardens of their celestial home. Streets paved from marble and veined with rivers of gold as wide as the sword at his back are replaced by blackened, cracked pavement riddled with holes filled with ice and water. The buildings on either side of him press in so tight, the rough surface of the bricks make him jerk his wings closer. 

Feathers drag across the filth around his feet and he pushes between his companions to cast a quick glance out into the street before turning to face them. On one side, Genma quickly ties his tawny hair behind his head, gives him a nod and Neji tilts his face to the sky with a deep breath through his nose.

His eyes may be white as milk and blind to this world, but his other senses are as sharp as the flame-blessed blades at their backs. A hum in Neji’s throat snatches Kakashi’s attention and he waits.

“Sulphur and ash in the air,” Neji warns, taking another breath. What he picks up whips his head toward the east where the retreating storm clouds are still pelting the mortal city beyond the alley with rain. “There. To the east.”

Before Genma takes a step, Kakashi is quick to put a hand to the metal breastplate protecting his chest. 

“Wait.” His eyes meet the blind gaze of his brother. “Can you smell their numbers?”

“More than one.” Neji says with a stretch of his wings. They shudder and shake the droplets of rain from their feathers before settling once again. “No more than three.”

“One for each of us.” 

Genma is young—eager—and though Kakashi is confident that they can banish the small scourge of demons back into the pits, he doesn’t want to return home with injuries. Death is nearly impossible for their kind. They are forged as weapons with the sole purpose of protecting the balance of the Divine Flame. Their flesh is as hard as marble, their strength godlike, and the only thing to rival their ferocity is the core of stars in which their very hearts were forged.

But demons are just as strong, just as relentless. Their claws can strip their flesh, can boil the ichor in their veins. Death is rare. But it can happen. 

It has happened.

Kakashi does not want to witness another of his kind’s death.

“If they’re archdemons, we will send for help,” Genma offers, gold eyes glittering with the anticipation of the fight ahead. The same anticipation that courses through Kakashi. The flame in his blade already trembles with excitement. “You’ve banished one alone. With the three of us, they stand no chance.”

Kakashi scowls. The archdemon Genma speaks of nearly sent Kakashi back into the Flame, a memory he tries hard not to think too long about. 

“We flank them,” he orders. “Neji leads from the west, you to the east, and I will take the sky.”

“They are moving,” their blind brother says with another quick sniff of the air. He pulls the curved daggers from the sheaths at his hips, the flame-forged metal singing as he does so. When he turns his white eyes to Kakashi, his brows furrow with determination. “Quickly.”

“They must have found their target. We move now.”

With a single command, Kakashi’s wings unfold on their own accord and beat once. Droplets of icy mud splatter but the three warriors are out of the alley before the splash hits the pavement. 

Kakashi takes to the sky, spinning between the buildings as his wings steer him after Neji’s lead. A single beat propels him around another of the city’s blocks and he rolls to the left around several towers with blinking lights stretching up to the rain-fat clouds. 

He can smell the sulphur in the air now.

They draw close, but the demons will smell them as well—will hear the nearly silent cut of their feathers through the air. 

They will know they are being hunted.

Neji pivots to the east and from above, Kakashi spots Genma closing the gap on their prey. The buildings grow shorter on this side of the city and fumes from nearby industrial plants taint the air with the smell of chemicals but it does not blot out the sulfurous stench from below.

Kakashi’s wings narrow behind him, the joints nearly touching above his head and he scans the streets and filthy back alleys. Flecks of ash float between the drops of rain and Kakashi focuses his attention, following his senses down to the city street. 

Neji has slowed as he draws near and Genma speeds ahead to position himself past the demons in case they try to run. Three grotesque creatures gather in the putrid darkness behind a stretch of buildings and Kakashi sees their monstrous forms as he hovers overhead. Bony wings, jagged horns jutting out from their misshapen skulls. They’re a mortal’s worst nightmare made flesh.

The creatures smell him in an instant and as they stretch their twisted, bony necks toward the skies with an unholy trio of screeches, he descends upon them. His sword is unleashed like a bolt of lightning, striking without mercy—without hesitation upon the first demon.

Its hot musk is almost suffocating.

A lust demon—an archdemon's feral children sent to feed upon the mortal’s most sickening desires. Judging by the heat wafting from the demon’s jagged maw, Kakashi can tell it recently fed. 

The demon screams as his blade slices right through its black, leathery wing leaving half of it twitching on the ground. A temporary wound, only enough to make it furious. Claws catch the neon glow from a nearby establishment and Kakashi soars back, his heels dragging across the concrete. Another swipe of the demon’s claws pulls his sword up in defense. 

A hot, dagger-sharp tip is cut free and sizzles through the air as it bounces down the alley with a tendril of black smoke trailing it. The demon hisses its disgust and its chest heaves with a breath, blood red eyes swirling to find Neji slamming into its comrade. He pins the creature against the brick wall hard enough to make debris and dust rain down around them and Kakashi spins his sword. The flash of metal catches the demon's eye and it turns back to face him, head cocking to the side as its hunched spine straightens with a sharp crack of bones.

But to Kakashi’s surprise, it does not attack.

Instead…it laughs.

A quiet rumbling in its chest that bubbles out of its mouth with bubbling, black tar. It blinks, making the crimson glow of its eyes darken before they pierce through Kakashi once more.

“Come to help the worthless souls of this realm?”

He doesn’t answer the question with words. His sword strikes fast and swings up this time to the demon’s thigh. The tip slices through flesh and the demon hisses as it leaps back, cracked talons gouging into the pavement. 

And still, it doesn’t fight back, the laughter in its throat nearly bellowing now.

“Pathetic,” he spits. “And too late. We left some marrow in their bones if you’re hungry.”

He was right before—they have fed. 

A rotted, slithering tongue slips from the demon’s mouth and drags across its black teeth. “Their screams were delicious enough, but their souls…the innocent ones are always the most delectable.”

Kakashi’s heard enough. He strikes again and again and on his third blow, the demon’s arm separates from its body, arcing over Genma’s struggle with a younger creature until it hits the corner of a dumpster. Something small and orange hisses its fury as it scurries out of its hiding place and flees down the alley.

The demon laughs harder and Kakashi slams his foot into its chest to send it flying against the building. Bricks crack under the force and he reaches out, gripping its scrawny throat with his fist, sword pointed directly between its eyes. 

From behind him, another shriek pierces the night and Genma jerks his blades from a creature’s skull. Its pus-ridden flesh bubbles into acid that hisses and steams until it disappears. With a glance to his right, Kakashi spots Neji chasing the second demon onto the street and is soon joined by Genma. 

In the alley, there’s no one left but him and his one armed, one winged enemy. A grin stretches the demon’s mouth and he grips the vambrace around Kakashi’s wrist, pushing the heel of his palm harder into its throat. Something crunches beneath his hand and blood thick and dark as tar oozes from its lips. 

“You kill so quickly, brother—”

Kakashi pushes the tip of his sword into the flesh of its forehead, the hiss of pain he receives in return satisfying, but not nearly enough. 

“The children we supped on were simply a snack to appease our aching hunger. But they were not our intended meal.”

Its words sink into Kakashi’s mind and his brows furrow with concentration. Kill it, he hears the divine command and his fingers flex around the hilt of his sword. But he does not yet push the blade past bone. He waits and when it's clear the demon is waiting for him to probe it for information, he almost sends it to hell just to refuse it the satisfaction.

But neither get what they want.

From the building where he has the demon pinned, the back door slams open and light from within pours out onto the back alley. A shadow passes through the doorway and out of the corner of his eye, Kakashi watches the figure bend down to wedge a rock between the frame and the door to keep it from closing completely.

And then they make a strange sound—something akin to pspspsp .

Both he and the demon slowly turn their head toward the back of the alley where the figure finally emerges around the corner. A mortal woman holds a small can that smells of fish and she walks to the dumpster across the alley, bending at the waist to peer behind it. 

“Kitty, kitty,” she calls in a delicate, sing-song voice. “Are you out here? I know you are because I heard you hiss at something. Come get your din-din.”

Though she is not alone in the alley and stands only inches from the severed wing and arm Kakashi had taken from the demon, she sees nothing out of her ordinary. Only an alley littered with trash, puddles of oily grime, and the stench of the nearby chemical plants. She, like all mortals, is blind to anything from the Divine and Infernal realms.

She taps at the can in her palm and moves to the opposite side of the dumpster and peers behind a few bloated bags of trash. When she realizes the cat isn’t going to risk coming out of hiding for its tuna dinner, she turns back to the door with a sigh.

Facing the narrow beam of light shining from the door, Kakashi sees her face and his fingers feel damp around the hilt of his sword. She looks like every other mortal he’s ever seen. Their faces and features blur in his mind, none ever standing out against another. He usually only notices the light of their soul.

Sometimes blue as children, and mostly white as adults, a mortal’s soul contains only slight sparks of the Divine Flame which he and his brethren were created to protect. Each spark glows with its own personal intensity and never so bright it blinds.

And this mortal woman’s spark is the same. A soft, calming glow of green in the center of her being, shining out of the corner of her eyes and the back of her mouth as she takes a deep breath and lets it out. Kakashi can see a thin beam of it surround her like an aura and frowns.

He’s never seen a soul glow like hers. 

The demon’s throat constricts and its lips stretch so wide, the broken skin cracks open and droplets of tar leak out. With a hiss of a breath, knowing it will be its last, the monster grins at the mortal and its claws tighten so tight around the vambrace at Kakashi’s wrist, it dents the metal.

“Her.”

He hesitates no longer.

The sword drives through the demon’s skull and pierces through the brick, cracking bone and splitting it open. Fetid brain matter spills out on the ground and the demon slumps at Kakashi’s feet before its pustulant flesh bubbles and erodes.

Kakashi wrenches his blade from the brick and the sharp ping of the metal rings out in the quiet alley. He starts to turn away, knows he must find his brothers and make sure they eliminate the creature they ran off to chase, but a soft sound stops him. 

The woman stares in his direction, a sharp breath on her lips and he feels his body grow still. Green light ripples around her head like a crown and her eyes narrow as if she’s struggling to see something that might not truly be there. Kakashi takes a step and is surprised by his body moving toward her.

He certainly did not command it to.

But he cannot deny that something draws him closer.

He tilts his head, silver strands of hair falling over his eyes and focuses his senses until he can hear the quickened beats of her pulse. She smells faintly of chemicals—something mortals use to clean wounds—and cherry blossoms. The two scents contrast against one another and yet, the combination almost brings him closer.

Kakashi blinks himself free from the trance and shakes his head. This time, he forces his body to take a step back instead of forward and just as the woman’s eyes seem to widen in surprise as if she caught a glimpse of movement, a single beat of his wings takes him into the air.

He leaves the alley and the woman behind. From above the buildings, it doesn’t take long to spot both Neji and Genma wiping the thick tar from their blades around the block. They peer up at him and in seconds, join him in the sky, rain pelting their faces. 

A pair of blind eyes turn to him. “I thought you would have made quicker work of that hellspawn, brother.”

Genma laughs and sheaths his blades at his hips. “Perhaps you are getting too old for this life.” 

The pair circle Kakashi from above before soaring higher. A call from the Flame beckons them back to their celestial home and the empyrean script inked onto his body hums with the warmth of its glow. But as his brothers near the portal above the rain-thick clouds, he hovers over the city and casts his gaze back down to the alley.

No more light spills from the door at the back of the building and he cannot see the strange, jade glow of the woman’s aura. The physical features of her face shimmer like a blurring image in his head and he’s sure soon, he will not even remember she existed at all.

But as he turns his face up to the sky and lets the cold rain fall on his face, he breathes in the scent of far-away chemicals…and cherry blossoms.

Chapter Text

“You okay?” Shizune looks up from the sink and arches an eyebrow as Sakura leans back against the door. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Has she?

She’s not even sure she saw anything at all.

But, no, there had been…something.

Glancing down at the can still sitting in the center of her palm, Sakura frowns and pushes away from the back door. She sets the can down on the sink and wipes her hand on the side of her scrubs before giving Shizune a shrug. “I thought I heard something out there.”

The woman scoffs and turns the water off. She dries her hands on a paper towel and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. “We’re in a pretty bad side of town. A ghost probably isn’t the scariest thing out there. Did you feed the cat?”

“He didn’t come out.” Another reason why Sakura can’t shake the feeling that something was out there in the alley. She had certainly heard something—a metallic scrape as if someone had stabbed a knife into the brick—and then there was…She shook it from her head and crossed the back room of the clinic. “I guess it was a dog or something.”

“Probably. Maybe we should walk out together.”

Sakura turns her back and winces, hoping the curtain of pink hides the look on her face. She hasn’t decided how she’s going to tell Shizune she’s working late tonight, knowing it’ll only make the woman suspicious, but she can’t leave just yet. Not when they’ll be here in twenty minutes. 

“I have some paperwork to finish.” It’s the truth. She purposefully left the day’s paperwork to do now for an excuse to stay late. She opens a cabinet and slides a box of supplies closer. The tape screeches as she rips it off the cardboard and she plucks several rolls of gauze bandages from within. She stands to stack the rolls on the top shelf and can see Shizune out of the corner of her eye crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I can wait for you.”

This time, Sakura hides the grimace from her face with the flash of an easy smile at the woman. “I’ll be fine. I can lock up.”

“Sakura—”

“It’s just paperwork, Shizune.” The smile fades from her lips but not much and she hopes the woman is reassured by her words. Dark eyes study her for a moment and Sakura holds her breath before turning to stack another row of bandages into the supply closet. 

Shizune lets out a small sigh but relents. “Okay. Just be careful.”

Though her words are sincere, Sakura knows they run deeper than surface level. Guilt stabs like a poisoned blade in her stomach and she swallows down the sick taste on the back of her tongue. Ducking her head, she stares at the boxes of tape stacked in her arms. “I will.”

With a moment of hesitation, Shizune lingers in the supply room at the back of the clinic but whatever she might have wanted to say to her coworker, she decides against it. She stops at her locker in the hallway and Sakura watches out of the corner of her eye as she gathers her things, taking her time shouldering her purse and digging for her car keys. 

“I’ll lock the front door,” the woman calls over her shoulder. She turns the hallway light off and Sakura nods with the flash of another smile across her lips. “Text me when you leave.”

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

One by one, the lights in the tiny clinic turn off and as Shizune pauses at the front door, her hand hovers over the light switch. Sakura keeps herself busy unpacking the box at her feet, face neutral and determined to finish her task, but inside her heart is pounding. 

Just leave, she wants to shout. It’s better for you if you just leave!

Sakura slides a box across the shelf just as the waiting area’s lights click off and she lets out the breath that has been aching her lungs. Keys rattle in the front door for a moment and Shizune steps out into the damp streets. With a twist of the lock, she steps away from the doors and Sakura leans forward to watch through the space between the clinic’s hours and the ‘use other door’ sign. 

Once she’s sure Shizune is in her car and pulling away from the curb, Sakura abandons the box on the floor and kicks it into the corner. She wrenches open the next cabinet and snatches a syringe, antiseptic wipes, needles and sutures, pinning them against her side with one arm as she races to the closest exam room. 

The light flicks on with a quick brush of her elbow and she drops the supplies onto the bed, pulling it all toward the door. She casts a quick glance toward the front doors just to be sure no one is peeking inside and drags the bed into the back supply room. The wheels crunch over a broken down cardboard box and Sakura nearly slips on it as she rushes by.

From the bottom cabinet, she grabs several towels and lays them down around the table. By the time she’s got the supplies situated, she checks at the watch around her wrist and curses beneath her breath. They’ll be there soon.

She races through the clinic to the lockers and finds the dented door that no one uses. No one else can seem to open it but her which makes it the perfect place to hide things. She slams her elbow into the bottom corner that juts out and the metal groans—and then pops open. Inside is a spare box of supplies that aren’t counted in the clinic’s inventory only because it was bought with her money. 

She pulls the extra pair of scrubs over her own and pulls her hair into a messy bun, securing the strands beneath a cap tied behind her head. With a snap of latex gloves around her wrist, she shoves the locker shut and spins toward the supply room as three heavy knocks pound against the back door. 

A sharp breath is sucked from her lungs and for a moment, Sakura stands as still as a statue. She stares at the door with wide eyes. She knows what’s on the other side but a creeping sensation climbs the back of her scalp like icy claws. The sound from earlier, the flash of something in the middle of the alley…it replays in her head only twice before she jerks herself into motion.

In a flash, she’s at the back door and wrenching it open.

The two hulking figures barely give her a chance to jump clear before they carry a third person into the clinic. Mud streaks across the floor as the man’s filthy feet drag behind him and she watches fat, crimson droplets hit the white tile. She should have laid out towels near the door as well.

There’s no time to worry about it before a fourth man steps into the clinic, pale fingers adjusting the grey, silk tie around his throat. He watches his men haul the injured figure onto the exam bed before he turns his gaze toward Sakura. An X-shaped scar sits on his chin and one eye is covered with a white patch. 

“Sakura,” Danzo says, a forced, tight smile on his pale face. “Shall we get started?”

She wants to remind him that there is no we . There’s only her risking her job and future to help him. She keeps her mouth shut and nods, stepping over to where the injured man lays on his back. His face is ashen and dotted with sweat. He’s lost a lot of blood and she waits for the two men to pull the blood-soaked shirt up his chest. 

Two circular wounds have been punched into his side, one deeper than the other. A third wound in his arm is slowly leaking blood but has been wrapped tightly. All bullet wounds—two possibly still in his body and the third ripping right through his forearm. 

Danzo lets the door shut with a heavy thump and stands in the corner to observe. His two enormous guards hover nearby, their arms crossed over their chest as they watch her every move. She knows if she makes a mistake, they’ll be the ones to beat her back into submission.

They’ve done it before.

All it took was a single no spoken right to Danzo’s face and she caught a meaty fist to her jaw. A mistake she won’t make again.

“Put him on his back,” she commands up at one of them. They obey quickly, rolling the injured man onto his back and holding him still despite the low, half-conscious groan slipping from his mouth. She grabs a pair of forceps and steps back to the bed, leaning over the man’s side. 

The wound oozes slowly and either he’s lost so much blood there’s nothing left to leak out, or the bullet hasn’t hit anything major. She hopes it’s the latter. Angling the tip of the forceps against the wound’s hole, she glances up at the man gripping his shoulders.

“Hold him tight. He’s going to try to jerk away from me.”

Fat fingers dig deeper into the man’s shoulders and Sakura pushes the tip of the forceps into the wound. Sure enough, the pain rips the man back into consciousness and his screams cut through the quiet as his legs thrash. His knee slams into her elbow and she stumbles to the side, forceps tugging at the ripped flesh of the wound. 

“I said hold him!”

The other guard steps up and takes the man by the ankles, forcing his knees straight as Sakura rushes back to the exam bed. At her back, the heat of Danzo’s stare nearly scorches right through her scrubs to blister her skin. She wants to reach back and scratch in the center of her spine but keeps her hands steady around the forceps. 

Again, she pushes the metal tips past the jagged hole in the man’s side. Blood pools over the edge and drips onto the crumpled towels beneath him. Sakura’s brows furrow and she pushes deeper, guiding the forceps past layers of torn muscle, waiting for the moment metal hits metal. A drop of sweat rolls down the curve of her nose and she holds her breath, plunging deeper into the wound.

The man writhes in agony and she glances to the two hands gripping his shoulders so tight, they might snap his collar bone. But the scrape of metal snaps her attention back to her task and she sucks in a breath.

Though fear grips her heart and the muscles along her back are tight with tension, her fingers are steady. She opens the forceps and clamps them around the object within the wound. Slowly and oh, so carefully , she eases the slug of metal up and out of the man’s body. 

With a tiny clink as it hits the bottom of the waiting pan, Sakura drops the forceps onto the towel and quickly grabs the sutures from the end of the bed. She makes quick—but accurate—work of stitching up the wound and moves onto the next. The bullet exited the man’s side, slicing at an angle through the muscle and adipose tissue. She isn’t too worried about it, but without proper equipment that a hospital has, it’s hard to tell if the other wound hit anything vital.

It’s dangerously close to his liver and gallbladder and only time will tell if he’ll need more intensive care than she can provide. 

As she pushes the last stitch through the wound on his arm, she glances up at Danzo. “I can give him an antibiotic shot, but he needs—”

“I’m certain that will be sufficient.”

She presses her lips into a line and ties the suture off close to the skin. There’s no arguing with the man and she doesn’t want another bruise on her face that will be impossible to explain to Shizune. As she stands and drops the needle into the biohazard container secured to the wall, she glances at the man still standing by the door.

Danzo watches her every move like a hawk hunting a field mouse and Sakura shakes off the urge to shrug his gaze away. She snaps the gloves from her hands and glances at the two guards lifting the man from the bed. They haul him toward the door and carry him out to a car she’s sure is waiting on the street. In their absence, she turns to their boss and focuses on the tie neatly knotted at his throat.

“He’s not out of harm’s way yet. He needs to rest and wound care. I can spare a box of gauze but I’m not sure what else I can do for him.”

For a moment, Danzo simply stares at her, black eyes void of any emotion or light. Not even the lights of the supply room seem to reflect off their surface and she forces herself to look away. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches a cold, tight smile stretch his thin lips into a line. 

“If we require your assistance in the future, Ms. Haruno, we know where to find you.”

Despite the polite tone of his words, she hears the threat clearly just beneath the surface. Yes, he knows where to find her—whether she wants to help him or not. She has no choice now. 

From the breast pocket of his jacket, he pulls a thick, white envelope out and sets it on the edge of the sink by the door. Without another word, he steps out into the alley as she holds the door open and her breath tight until the sound of the car door shutting echoes between the buildings. The engine comes to life and the red glow of the taillights reflect briefly off the walls before fading into darkness. 

Sakura shuts her eyes and sucks in one shuddering breath after the other. Her fingers dig into the metal of the door and she scrapes her nails across it until the corner of one snaps and breaks away. 

This is the last time, she tells herself, though she knows it’s a lie. I’ll have enough to pay off the loan and I won’t have to do Danzo’s dirty work after tonight.

But even as she lies to herself, she can hear the threat in his words echo in her head. He knows where to find her, knows she can’t leave, can’t run. She’s trapped.

Between her legs, something small and furry bumps against her ankle and meows, snapping her from her misery. She blinks her eyes open to the alley cat who finally made his way out of hiding. He peers up at her for a moment before he stretches up to tap his paws on her knee, green eyes wide in anticipation of his supper. 

“Well, there you are.” The can of tuna still sits on the back of the sink and she reaches for it, ignoring the envelope waiting for her. She leads the cat back into the alley and stoops as he chastises her for having the gall to make him wait. “Don’t get mad at me, mister. You were the one hiding.”

She sets the can down for him near the back step and stands as he makes quick work of the tuna. When she first found him rooting around the trash bags in the alley, he was a skinny, little thing. It didn’t take long before she had fattened him up and after a single, almost disastrous trip to the vet for shots, he and she are almost back on speaking terms.

As long as she keeps the tuna and treat supply streaming steadily, he seems to have forgiven her for stuffing him into a carrier and filling him with vaccines. 

Sakura smiles down at him and scratches the back of his neck as he devours his dinner. She’s considered getting him a collar, but knows that will just be the first step that leads to her bringing him home. The other girls in the clinic call him Sweet Potato but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the name with anything more than an annoyed swish of his tail.

“Where were you tonight?” 

He answers her with a single glance up before returning to his meal. 

Sakura sits back on her heels and glances around the alley. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. The dumpster in the corner is overflowing as always, trash bags piled against the side from the deli next door, and the potholes are filled with sludge and mud. 

Her eyes follow the building to where she had seen the flash of golden light earlier. It had shimmered near the brick just long enough to catch her attention. Like a ghost stretching its hand out of the wall to give her a quick wave. 

Sakura stands and steps over her alley companion. He’s finished the tuna and sits back, licking the remnants from his whiskers but she barely glances back at him. Instead, she tries to recall just where that light had come from.

Across the street, the pawn shop has closed for the night but the neon signs in the front window have been left on. Vibrant pinks and blues cast a glow across the rain-slicked pavement, but nothing flashes or shimmers quite the same as what she’d seen earlier. 

Stepping closer, she puts a hand on the damp bricks and traces the corners, unsure what she’s even looking for. A piece of glass, a broken mirror, hell, even a speck of glitter just to put her mind at ease. Anything to replace the memory of that ghostly brush of light against the building. 

But as she stares up the side of the clinic and squints her eyes against the lingering drops of rain, there’s nothing. She takes a step back on her heel and lets out a breath. Maybe she’s losing her mind. The stress of her job and of hiding her dirty little secret from everyone else is finally getting to her. 

She doesn’t believe in ghosts.

Barely believes in anything anymore.

But she can’t deny what she saw.

She just can’t explain it.

As she turns back to the strip of light stretching from the clinic, her feline friend catches her attention. He’s swatting at something just beneath the dumpster and she sighs playfully. 

“Didn’t you have enough to eat? Leave the mice alone.”

Again, his paw stretches just behind the wheel and his claws hook on their target, pulling something white out from underneath. Sakura stares down at the cat as he stoops to sniff at the sharp quill and the pure white fibers of a feather that doesn’t belong to any bird that might have found its way onto this side of town.

Slowly, Sakura stoops into a crouch and reaches past the cat’s face as he tries to rub his scent across every inch of the feather. She pinches the quill between her fingers and lifts it, turning it over to inspect the back. The barbs almost look iridescent, shimmering ever so slightly as she twists it back and forth. There isn’t even so much as a speck of dust or dirt.  Not even the grimy muck beneath the dumpster stains its pristine color. 

Its massive size would rival any eagle feather—nearly the length of her forearm from her elbow to the tip of her middle finger. And just as she twists the quill to look at the underside, the very tip catches the light from within the clinic and shimmers an almost otherworldly gold. 

Sakura sucks in a breath and stands so quickly, the cat near her feet growls a complaint and darts toward the pile of trashbags. She can barely pull her gaze away from the feather but she looks into the stretch of alley leading to the street. 

Okay, so she isn’t quite losing her mind…but where the hell did this thing come from?

As she runs her fingers over the velvet edge of the feather, Sakura turns back to the door and absently bids the cat goodnight. Not that he notices. He’s far too busy grooming his back legs to pay her any mind and as the door shuts with a heavy thump behind her, she twists the lock and glances around the mess Danzo and his men left behind.

Though it’s the last thing she wants to do, she carefully cleans every drop of blood from the floor, bags the soiled towels in a garbage bag, and pushes the exam bed back into the room she took it from. By the time she’s returned the clinic to its usual state of cleanliness, it’s nearly nine and her exhaustion is starting to take the form of a dull ache at the back of her neck.

Of course, she might have been done sooner if she didn’t stop every so often to glance at the strange feather she had laid on the back counter near the small stack of cat food cans and the envelope of cash. But she can’t help trying to recreate that strange glimmer of light she had seen earlier. No matter which way she glances at it, or how she twirls it in the light, it never quite flashes like it did.

It takes nearly twenty minutes to finish the paperwork she’d neglected through the day and it’s close to ten when she finally locks the doors behind her. The streets are dark and the buses stopped running hours ago. 

Sakura sighs and adjusts her backpack on her shoulders, glancing first toward her apartment a few blocks away and then to the sky. Lights from the industrial plants in the distance wash the leftover clouds out still hanging over the city but she can see the wisps of their dark underbelly. 

She’s not sure what she expects to see and after a few moments of simply standing like a lunatic with her face tilted up to the sky, she shakes her hair from her face and sets off toward home. Though her backpack is stuffed with soiled towels that she’ll have to clean and return tomorrow, there’s an extra weight against her back.

And she’s not sure if it’s the weight of how low she’s sunk since becoming an on-call nurse for Danzo’s crime syndicate…or the mysterious feather she tucked safely in the side of the backpack. Either way, she can safely say that today has been unexpectedly bizarre.

Chapter Text

A familiar clang of metal on metal sings in the air near the training fields and in the distance, a chorus of cherubim voices reaches Kakashi’s ears. He pays attention to the sound only long enough to note that it’s coming from the central rotunda before he diverts his path in the opposite direction. 

The Divine Realm is structured in a gentle, sloping spiral. Though there are marbled streets that wind upward, each level seems to float—suspended in place in the celestial aether. Wisps of clouds and the trailing essence of spirits waft beneath and between the structures towering before and around Kakashi. 

A curious spirit circles his form, combs through his wings, and disperses in a burst of soft, white light and while he usually ignores their antics, Kakashi’s steps falter as he watches the last traces of the essence twinkle into nothing. In an instant, his mind is snapped back to the memory of that mortal’s soul and the strange glow of its aura surrounding her.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Kakashi takes a step but the hissing echo of that demon’s words repeat through his mind.

Her…

The mortal had been their intended victim, but why?

Demons drink upon the souls of the damned and when Kakashi’s kind fail to protect the innocent, they fall prey as well. It’s rare, but it does happen. The beasts don’t typically single one innocent out over another, choosing to take what they can, when they can. 

But something in that demon’s eyes as he looked at the mortal woman still plagues Kakashi’s mind. The hell-flame spark behind the black abyss was unlike their usual lust for mortal flesh and soul. 

It had been sickening.

Like every mortal vice combined into one.

Greed, gluttony, malice.

The demon didn’t want to just drink the mortal woman’s soul…it wanted to devour her.

Ever since returning to the Divine Realm, Kakashi had struggled with the decision to bring it to the Assembly’s attention. The more he thinks about the demon’s lust-sick gaze and the strange glow of the mortal’s soul, the more he tells himself that they must know.

Seven seraphim make up the Assembly and sit on the highest council for all of the divine races. Their judgement is absolute and their guidance is holy and Kakashi is certain they will know what to do.

The Assembly sits in the highest tower in the realm, a structure that stretches so high, the only light to reflect off of the golden façade is the sun. In its highest temple, the Assembly sits on thrones beneath an eternal, cosmic sky, planets and nebula slowly revolving through the universe, comets streaking their brilliant light through the infinite black.

It’s one of Kakashi’s favorite places in the realm and always leaves him with deep reverence. But his heart is too distracted to think about glimpses into the cosmos, still far too preoccupied with the memory of the demon’s words and that mortal’s soul. 

Soft jade flashes through his mind as he comes to a stop near one of the temples in the realm’s central levels. Thick, quartz pillars reflect the warm, pastel glow of a far away sunset behind him and Kakashi looks into the center of the temple. A shallow pool with lilies the size of his head float across the water’s glittering surface. When he turns away and looks up at the thin rivers of gold cutting through the white marble street, he unfolds his wings from where they press against his back.

They beat once and lift him through the clouds. 

Unlike the mortal realm, where gravity is a force that constantly pulls his body weight down, his wings have nothing to fight against here. It takes only one flutter and he can stay afloat for weeks—possibly longer if his duties don’t bring him back down. 

Kakashi closes his eyes as the cool vapors slip across his face. He emerges through the top of the cloud and shakes the droplets clinging to his hair, pushing himself up and around another structure, the barracks, built in a wide block. At one time, in the days of his youth, he spent most of his time in those walls. 

Training for his eternal purpose.

Strengthening not just his body, but his mind.

He rose quickly through the ranks, leading his first battle to victory before the mortal realm had even reached the bronze age. It seems like so long ago to him and yet, time passes for them in the blink of an eye. 

He’s lived eons, watched countless mortals live and die while only a single day passes in the Divine. Their existence means little to him—they’re merely grains of sand slowly pouring onto the eternal scales that balance the universe. Too few mortals on one side means the hellspawn numbers grow. Too many and they find ways to summon demons onto their world and unleash hell. 

Only those born of the Divine Flame can keep the balance and it is their only purpose. 

Kakashi breaks through another cloud and hovers at the edge of the cosmos. Beneath him, the sky is soft hues of blue and gold and pink, and above, ink black infinity stretches. An unfathomable void. A beautiful horror that he can hardly bring himself to look away from. 

“Come,” a voice behind him makes him whirl around and the feathers at the tips of his wings flex, flaring with momentary surprise. Standing at the bottom step of a wide staircase leading up to the Assembly, a figure draped in gold robes stares up at him. Hiruzen doesn’t smile, though there is a glimmer of friendly sentiment behind his eyes. He turns away from Kakashi and climbs the steps. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but feels a flutter in his chest as his feet touch down on the cool, smooth stone. He follows a few steps behind the seraphim and by the time they reach the top of the steps, the sky above them is nothing but black. A comet streaks over the temple’s pediment, its icy tail crackling and spitting dust that rains down upon the temple like snow. 

Though he wants to tilt his head back and count the constellations and planets in orbit overhead, Kakashi keeps his eyes focused on the interior of the temple instead. The pillars tower over him and it would take three of his kind to wrap their arms around each one. Carved into the marble pediment, right at the center is the Divine Flame sitting in its golden cauldron and the seraphim statues surround it on either side.

Around the sides of the temple, depictions of battles that occurred eons before Kakashi was ever pulled from the flame are carved. On the back, facing the endless void of space, is the birth of the hells and all the spawn that had been spat out into the world. 

Kakashi’s only seen it once. 

And that’s enough for him.

Seven thrones sit in a line at the back of the temple, none higher than the other, each forged in the heart of the same star. Each one is equal to the other, just as the seraphims that sit upon them. 

Only six thrones are occupied at the moment but as Hiruzen moves to the empty one to take a seat, Kakashi is left in the center of the temple. A thin layer of water sits on the stone floor but Kakashi easily stands upon its shimmering surface, the bare soles of his feet dry and warm. 

“You bring us news,” one of the seraphim, Tsunade, says as she tents her fingers beneath her chin. 

Kakashi nods. “Yes.”

He’s not sure how to even explain his concerns, but he does his best, recounting the brief scrimmage in the mortal realm. He repeats the demon’s words and when he comes to the mortal woman’s appearance, he hesitates. For some reason, his voice seems to want to hide behind his tongue, as if it’s afraid that by merely mentioning her, he’s committing a sin. 

He swallows his cowardice and pushes on after only a moment’s hesitation. The seraphim sit as still as the statues carved into the temple’s pediment, their eyes the only evidence that they’re alive at all. Tsunade’s gaze narrows as he mentions the glow of the woman’s soul and the color.

“I believe the demons were targeting her soul in particular.”

“Souls can vary in the way our kind perceives them.” Another seraphim speaks from the throne on the far left, making Kakashi turn to look at him. “Did your companions see this mortal as well?”

“No. They were pursuing a demon that fled from the fight.”

A moment of silence passes over the Assembly. Hiruzen taps a single finger against his knee and Tsunade stares past Kakashi, her gaze lost in the abyss beyond the pillars of the temple. 

“Perhaps your senses have become damaged. Your eye—”

“His eye is fine,” Tsunade answers with a biting tone. She pushes herself off her throne, her white robes draping down the length of her body. “I healed it myself. You’re certain the hellspawn were after this mortal?”

Kakashi nods. 

“It looked right at her and I could see its hunger in its eyes. Almost—” He nearly bites back the word, glancing from Tsunade to the other six still sitting behind her. Two lean forward, waiting for him to continue and when his gaze meets Tsunade’s once more, he sees intrigue and something else burning in her stare—something that surprises him. 

Fear.

Kakashi swallows. “Almost like it was driven mad with desire.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Tsunade whirls around to face her equals. “This mortal. She could be Flame-Touched—”

“The Flame has not touched a mortal in thousands of years.” Another voice of reason cuts through before six voices rise up in discord. Kakashi looks at each of their faces, unsure who to listen to. 

“...we do not know if the Flame…”

“...preposterous to even suggest…”

“...the spawn was simply starved for…”

The clamor of the sudden argument swells and Kakashi takes a step back. A sensation he has not felt in centuries washes through him and he hides his grimace. Regret comes fast and sudden in a sickening wave and he wishes now that he had kept this to himself. 

Not just because the mere mention of a Flame-Touched mortal is cause for this kind of strife between the seraphim, but because the look in Tsunade’s eyes as he spoke. If this mortal is touched by the Flame, then she truly is being hunted by the hellspawn. 

He and his brothers banished them back into the Sulphur pits where they crawl from, but they will regenerate their strength. They will try again. Or worse…whoever sent them might take the mortal for themselves. 

No.

The lesser demons are greedy fools. 

If there is a Flame-Touched mortal, they will want her soul to themselves. A gluttonous desire, but one he knows the demons will pursue again. 

Kakashi will just have to cut them into bits next time.

Movement catches his eyes and he looks up to find Hiruzen standing from his throne, one hand raised to quiet the others. It takes a moment for the friction to ease but eventually, each seraphim is turned toward where Hiruzen takes a single step toward Kakashi. “We cannot take the chance of a possible Flame-Touched mortal falling into the hands of the archdemons. Three, hungry spawns do not pose a threat, especially if they have been banished.”

“Three spawns can return with an army if they know what she is.”

“Even we do not know what she is.” Hiruzen turns his head away from Tsunade and levels his gaze on Kakashi. Though the seraphim are ageless, living thousands upon thousands of years has altered his appearance and the deep lines on either side of his eyes hold knowledge that Kakashi can’t even fathom. Everything about the seraphim demands lesser beings to fall to their knees in reverence, but in the present moment, Kakashi senses that he will oppose whatever he plans to say. “Yet.”

Yes, he knows now that he regrets bringing this to their council. 

He should have never lingered in that alley.

He should have plunged his sword into the demon’s skull the moment he had it pinned against the wall.

Again, the memory of the mortal woman staring through him—almost at him—flashes through his mind and he drops his gaze to the ripple of water beneath his feet. 

“Observe this mortal,” Hiruzen commands. Kakashi closes his eyes and nods, unable to even oppose a divine order if he wanted to. “If she is truly Flame-Touched, you will know.”

“How?” He lifts his head and meets Hiruzen’s gaze first and then shifts to Tsunade’s. She takes a step, her robes dragging across the surface of the pool without collecting a single drop of water in the fabric. 

“You say you think her soul is different. We must know for certain. If she is truly Flame-Touched, her soul will respond to you.”

“Reveal myself?” 

“No.” Hiruzen shakes his head, drawing Kakashi’s attention back to him. “If the hellspawn knows you are watching her, they will become suspicious and pursue her soul. Conceal yourself from both mortals and hellspawn.”

Their words feel like riddles that he has no interest in unraveling. Kakashi looks past them, but the other seraphim offer no help. It’s Tsunade that finally speaks again as she steps closer, lifting one hand to grip the pauldron stretched across his shoulder. 

“When a Flame-Touched soul answers, you will know.” Her hand falls away and she takes a step back, that same look from before in her amber gaze once more. She’s worried—about Kakashi or this mortal, he’s not sure. Either way, he won’t be able to forget the look. “Go. Tell no one else about this assignment.”

Kakashi nods again and turns on his heel. Above him, the sky revolves and the rings of a massive, bronze planet come into view. He barely glances up at it as he steps between two of the quartz pillars and takes the stairs. Before he makes it to the bottom, he angles his wings like two blades behind his back and steps off the marble.

His weightless form hovers for a fraction of a second, toes brushing the tops of the clouds and he closes his eyes. A breath expands his lungs and pushes his chest into the inside of his armor. When he lets it out, his eyes open and he dives through the aether and back into the realm between worlds…

Chapter Text

Every day for the next two months, Sakura checks the back alley for more mysterious feathers. After presenting Mr. Sweet Potato with a can of tuna each night, she takes a few moments to look beneath the dumpster, the side alley leading to the street, sometimes even pushing over bloated bags of trash just in case a feather is hidden beneath them.

So far, she’s found a bit of change, a few dead mice, and a couple of pigeon feathers.

Two months and not a single trace of anything remotely similar. 

Maybe it’s time to forget about the feather. Currently, it sits on her nightstand in a small, purple vase she picked up at a thrift store and occupies her thoughts at least once a day, usually before she falls asleep for the night. 

Oh, well. It’ll just be one of life’s mysteries that she’ll forget about eventually.

She scratches the cat beneath his chin and stands, giving one last glance around the alley before heading back into the clinic to wash her hands. A few patients amble about in the waiting area despite the late evening hour. Only twenty more minutes and the doors will be locked for the weekend. 

She’s more than ready to blow half of her paycheck on a night out with her friends and as she passes Shizune in the hallway with their lockers, the woman playfully rolls her eyes. “Guy in room two is begging for pain pills.”

“The one that was in here last week?”

“Yep,” Shizune says with a nod. “Says his ingrown toenail is killing him.”

The guy is a regular clinic hopper in this area and has a file an inch thick with new ailments every two weeks that can only be cured with pain pills. Sakura glances at the second door past the hallway and can hear a video blaring loudly from the guy’s phone. 

“Then he needs antibiotics. Need me to handle it?”

“You go finish your paperwork that I know you’re procrastinating on. We all want to be out of here at six tonight.” To emphasize her words, Shizune smacks Sakura’s elbow with a box of antibiotic ointment she’d retrieved from the supply closet. A twist of guilt clenches her stomach and she hides her discomfort behind a smile.

Paperwork is always her excuse for staying late when her evening visitors come knocking on the door, but she hasn’t heard a peep from Danzo or his men in a month. Which isn’t always a good thing. The more time that passes without hearing from him, the bigger the chance that his goon will show up in her waiting room. 

She nods to Shizune and cuts her gaze to the waiting room over her shoulder. No hulking figures in black suits watching her every move. As soon as her friend moves back to the second exam room, Sakura makes a beeline for the closest computer sitting on the end of a circular counter around the corner from the waiting room. 

The screen is slow to come to life and she impatiently slides the mouse and taps the space bar until it blinks on. She logs in and pulls a stack of neglected files closer. What she wouldn’t give for some money to upgrade their system to be fully electronic. Maybe she can work out a deal with Danzo and claim it’s an anonymous donation from a charitable benefactor. 

Even then, she knows Shizune will be suspicious.

Sakura flips open the first folder and types in the information she’d scribbled down on the first appointment for the day. Forty year old woman with a broken rib and various bruises that she claimed was from a fall. The cut on her bottom lip points toward something more domestic going on. 

After advising her about agencies that help with situations she might be going through, the women had hastily packed her things and left. Sakura chalked it up as a loss, but can’t help but think about her now, hours later. She hopes she’s safe and took the advice to heart. 

One file after another, Sakura types her notes into the system and watches as each patient files out of the clinic. The girls in the front lock the doors, shut their computers down, and talk animatedly about their weekend plans. They get Shizune involved and beg her to come out for a drink, to which she declines. 

They know better than to ask Sakura.

She never agrees.

Not because she doesn’t love to let loose and have fun, but because she knows too many bad people who hang around seedy places on this side of town. The last thing she wants is to catch any more attention than she already has on herself.

As the three younger women leave for the evening, giving Shizune and Sakura one last chance to change their mind, the clinic turns quiet. Sakura’s mentor leans against the counter and blows a strand of black hair from her face. “What a week.”

“Mm,” she grunts, fingers tapping rapidly over the keyboard. “Felt like a month long. Got any plans tonight?”

“Maybe.” Something in her tone sparks a flicker of curiosity and Sakura’s fingers still over the keys. She looks up at the Shizune as a slow smile stretches her lips. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Details, please.”

“It’s nothing serious. Just a guy that I’ve been chatting with online.” Shizune scoops the two files off the counter and turns, though not quick enough to hide the bright pink flush of her cheeks. As she disappears into the file room behind the receptionist area, Sakura leans back in her seat and calls out to her.

“Well be careful and use protection. We’ve got plenty of extra condoms in the supply room.” Around the corner of the file room, Shizune presents her middle finger pointing up to the ceiling and Sakura can just picture how red her face is now. She slides her chair back to the desk with a chuckle and crosses her ankles. The tip of her tennis shoe taps one of the dusty cords leading to the back of the computer and the screen blinks once then goes black. 

“Ugh.”

She slides her chair back once more and reaches down to the plug, wiggling it back and forth in the loose socket. The computer beeps, the lights on the front come back to life, and Sakura raises back up in the chair. She glances at the black screen as it starts to reboot and then at the files laying out beside the keyboard.

It’s only when she reaches for the nearest one does her brain seem to register the fact that her face wasn’t the only reflection she’d seen on the surface of the blank screen. She sucks in a breath, cold realization leaking like ice through her veins. Slowly, her eyes lift back to the screen and she sees the terror in her own face staring back at her.

And just over her left shoulder, there’s something else towering behind her.

No—someone else.

She launches up from the chair and whirls on her heel, scrambling to put the length of the desk between her and the figure as she grips her chest with both hands. The beat of her heart pounds against her palm as she stares at…nothing.

Not a single shadow.

Not a sound.

Nothing but six empty exam rooms.

Every breath aches as she struggles to drag them into her lungs and each thump of her heart shoots another pulse of terror through her veins. It takes several moments for the adrenaline in her body to calm but her fingers still tremble as she peels her hands away from her chest and moves back to the computer. She ignores her chair and reaches for the power button on the now bright monitor.

With a press of her shaking thumb, the screen goes black once again and she ducks down until she can see herself—and only herself—in the reflection. Is she seeing things again? First that weird light in the side alley and now…whatever that was. 

No, whoever . It was clearly a person.

In her mind, she can still see the silhouette of their head staring down at her as if they stood right behind her chair, close enough to reach out and touch her if they wanted. There’s no way they could have ran or hid in the split second it took for her to spin around. 

So, either she is seeing things, or the clinic is haunted.

She’s not sure which she prefers.

Closing the files, she scoops them into her arms and hurries to the file room. The bright light from within is a comfort but as she turns back to look at the desk where she left her chair, she can’t shake the feeling that something is still there, still watching her. She swallows tightly and ducks into the room, rushing past Shizune. Sakura dumps the files into a rolling cart and turns to her friend.

“Let’s get out of here. This shit can wait until Monday.”

“That’s Friday Sakura being lazy. Monday Sakura is going to be furious.” Shizune wedges a space open between two files and pushes another in, the thick papers making the task difficult. 

“No, Friday Sakura just saw a ghost and wants to get the hell out of here.”

This makes the woman whip her head in her direction, brows furrowed in concern and a bit of fear in her eyes. “A what?”

“I saw…something standing right behind me out there. I want to get out of here.” Goosebumps crawl up her arms and over her scalp and she shows them to Shizune. That’s all it takes before they abandon their filing and grab their purses from the lockers. Within three minutes, they’re standing on the sidewalk with the doors locked as they peer into the glass.

“You’re sure you saw something?”

“I’m going to have nightmares tonight, Shizune. I’m positive.”

“What did it look like?” 

Another shiver rolls down her spine and she shudders, turning away from the doors and the dark waiting room within the clinic. Sakura rakes a hand through her hair and shrugs. “I don’t know. Like a person. Tall. They were just kind of standing behind me and I saw like their shadowy figure in the computer screen.”

“Oh, god, that’s creepy. You saw something else too, a few weeks ago.”

Sakura opens her mouth to correct her— two months ago —and snaps it shut again. In her mind, she sees the feather in the vase on her nightstand just as she left it earlier that day. Glancing at Shizune out of the corner of her eye, she’s not sure if she should admit to finding the feather. It’s such a strange thing to bring up and probably means nothing. But she can’t deny that they feel connected.

“Yeah.” Sakura checks over her shoulder but there’s no shadowy figures stalking them from a distance. When she turns back around, Shizune is pulling her car keys from her purse and leading them toward her car parked on the street. “I stayed late that night and when I was feeding Sweet Potato, I found…something.”

Intrigue sparkles through Shizune’s dark gaze and she adjusts her purse on her shoulder as they stand at the corner of the street. Sakura bites her lip and takes a deep breath, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut. But there’s no turning back now. She swallows and faces Shizune, a tinge of sheepish warmth spreading across her face. 

“I found a—a feather under the dumpster.”

“A feather? Like from a bird?”

“No, like from a rhinoceros.” Sakura rolls her eyes and ignores the glare she receives in return. Together, they both step off the curb and cross the street. “Yes, a bird. Except, not like any bird I’ve ever seen. It’s massive, first of all, and so white it…it just looks weird.”

“You know,” Shizune starts, pulling the handle of the driver’s side door. She tosses her purse inside and points a finger at Sakura. “Feathers are supposed to be signs from above. They’re symbols of spiritual guidance and hope.”

She can’t help but scoff. “There’s no hope for someone like me.”

“Oh, hush. All I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign from above.”

“Yeah,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “A sign that I’m either losing my mind or I’m haunted.”

A familiar notification chime pings from her backpack and Sakura pulls it around to fish for her phone. Across the roof of the car, Shizune sighs. “Or someone is watching out for you. Do you want a ride home?”

Before she gives her an answer, she checks the text on her phone and can’t help but smile. Ino seems excited for their night out and honestly, Sakura is as well. It’s been weeks, possibly months, since she’s had a night to just let her hair down and enjoy herself.

“No, that’s okay.” She shakes the hair from her face and steps back on the sidewalk, offering the woman a quick wave. “Text me details from your date.”

“It’s not a date,” Shizune calls out as she drops into her car. She reaches for the door and before it shuts, she calls out. “Have a good weekend! See you Monday.”

Monday feels like a year away and Sakura quickly types a response back to her friend, letting her know she’ll meet her downtown in two hours. Just enough time to take a shower, find something revealing and hot to wear, and pregame with a shot or two. She waves at Shizune’s car as it speeds by and hurries the two and a half blocks to her shitty apartment building, only checking behind her for ghosts once or twice.

By the time she makes her way to her third floor one-bedroom studio, all thoughts of that face in the computer screen have been pushed to the back burner in her mind. She has far more important things to do and luckily, her night out distracts her from work, ghostly apparitions, and slimy crime bosses.

It isn’t until near three in the morning does she find her way back to her apartment, carrying the pair of heels she regretted wearing after only an hour. She’s drunk—drunker than she intended to get—but happy about it.

Or happy enough that the thought of walking into a dark apartment by herself makes her giggle instead of shudder. Sakura slumps against her door frame and cradles the heels against her side as she twists the key in the lock and shoves her way inside. 

“Ah-right, ghost,” she slurs, stomping into the short entry beyond the door. She reaches for the light, misses, and drops her shoes near the fridge as she kicks the door shut and locks both the dead-bolt and chain. Drunk or not, she still has enough sense to do that . “You better not’ve followed me home.”

This time, as she reaches for the lamp sitting on an end table, she manages to flood her apartment in dim light. Casting a glance around at the dark corners and bending to check beneath her bed pushed against the wide expanse of a window, Sakura breathes a sigh of relief and leans against the wall. 

No ghosts.

No shadowy faces peeking at her from the glass of her windows or television screen. The alcohol pumping through her veins almost makes her want to scoff at her foolishness, but her eyes catch sight of the feather on her bedside table and whatever words sat on her tongue get swallowed. 

She takes a breath and shakes her head, way too drunk to deal with her paranoia for the night. Plus, she’s had to pee for the past half hour. Sakura rushes into the bathroom to relieve herself and manages to find a half-damp makeup wipe on her sink. By the time she makes it back into her bedroom with an empty bladder, her eyeliner is nearly gone and whatever remains of her lipstick is smeared.

She slips one tiny strap of her dress down to her elbow and wiggles her arm free, the makeup wipe landing on the corner of the bed as she flops back on the sheets. The room sways and her stomach rolls from the motion and Sakura reaches up to push the heel of her palms into her eyes. 

“I’m nev-er drinkin’ again,” she vows to no one in particular, slapping her hand to the lamp. With a click of the button, her apartment is plunged into darkness and her fingertips brush against the edge of the feather, tipping it and the vase over. Sakura ignores it, too drunk to care. Instead, she shifts onto her side and pulls her sheet up and over her legs. Seconds before sleep pulls her into its depths, she mumbles to what she thinks is an empty apartment. “Please don’t haunt me.”

In the middle of her kitchen, perfectly concealed away from her mortal gaze, a figure tilts his head to the side and watches until her breathing steadies and her quiet snores fill the room.

Chapter Text

In one night, the mortal woman committed a surprising number of sins and Kakashi had no choice but to keep track of them, one right after another. From the moment she met a few of her friends in front of a loud establishment full of drunken people and clouds of smoke, the supposed Flame-Touched woman behaved the complete opposite of what he expected. 

It didn’t take long until she was intoxicated and Kakashi made note of her lack of self-control. Is that a sign that her soul is as unremarkable as every other human? So far, it hadn’t given him a single inkling that it was Touched. 

The hours ticked by and the woman and her friend put on quite a display of immorality and debauchery. 

When two men found the way her body moved intriguing, they joined. Kakashi had watched their bodies grind against one another, her hands moving down their chest, around their backs, through their hair. A few times, she let them put their tongue in her mouth or on her throat. 

Lust.

Impurity.

And to his surprise, when another woman cut in, screaming about her man, Kakashi’s target displayed shocking acts of wrath. She struck the woman in the face, pulled her hair, and screamed several obscenities. 

She and her fair-haired friend were promptly escorted out of the building and after a brief argument with two muscular men, they moved on. The night continued somewhat the same. Over indulgence and intoxication, impurity and lust; the woman with her strange-colored soul seemed perfectly at peace with her immoral ways.

When he followed her back to her apartment and watched her address what she thought was a ghost, he waited. Waited for the moment her soul would answer him. Is it Touched? Is she chosen by the Flame for greatness? 

He’s not so sure after observing her over the last several hours.

His eyes cut to the feather on her nightstand and he takes a deep breath of irritation, letting it out slowly. He moves closer to her bed and peers down at the piece of him he foolishly left behind. Knowing she kept it makes him slide his narrowed gaze back to her sleeping form. 

She saw him today—in that reflection.

The moment her eyes found his, Kakashi thought perhaps that was his answer. The fact that she saw him at all is extraordinary. But something as simple as a glimpse of a reflection seems so trivial. It can’t be the sign he’s been sent to find. 

And so he must continue observing her.

Kakashi reaches out and hovers his palm over her shoulder. The aura surrounding her shimmers like ocean water beneath the sun, but it does not attempt to connect to him and after a moment, he drops his hand at his side with a sigh. 

The woman’s breathing is steady and he can see her dreams unfolding within her mind. A street stretches out before her, three men standing at one end in the darkness. They call to her but she’s already running the opposite direction, her bare feet pounding across broken sections of pavement that fade until a forest springs up around her. 

Kakashi turns away from her dream, not interested in the conjurings of her drunken mind, and scans the rest of her home. A small kitchen takes up the wall just inside the front door and aside from a table that seems to be a catch-all for useless artifacts, there’s only enough space for her bed and the various clothes she has strewn about. 

He moves to the bathroom and peers down at the sink littered with bottles of differing sizes and shapes, brushes with puff balls on the end and pallets of powder in every shade known to man. Before he realizes what he’s doing, his middle finger swipes through one of the squares of powder and he blinks down at the glittering, violet swath. 

It catches the light from the streets streaming in through the wide, multi-pane window taking up most of the wall beside her bed and he rubs the powder with his thumb. The color is the same as what’s smeared across her eyelids. He tilts his head at his fingers and looks back at her figure on the bed.

She’s moved, but only slightly, lying flat on her back with one arm hanging off the mattress and one leg sticking out from under the sheets. As Kakashi draws near, he stares down at her and frowns. 

Her dress has fallen.

The strap hangs loose at her side and the dark material looks almost black in the shadows of her room. Kakashi follows the curve of her clavicle to the center of her chest where the corner of the sheet rests. Just beneath, her nearly bare breast rises and falls with each breath. 

There, right above the steady beat of her heart, the aura surrounding her burns a bit brighter. The color of sea foam at the edges shifting to rich emerald at the center of her chest, it pulses with a peculiar energy, almost calling to him. 

Again, he reaches out and hovers his palm directly over her chest and at first, the glowing aura does nothing but follow the steady thump, thump, thump of her heartbeat. He almost pulls away, fingers curling to close into a fist but just as he pulls back a fraction of an inch, her light flares.

It curls around his wrist, snakes up the metal of his armor, and clenches—tight. 

Kakashi blinks and tries to wrench free but the hold on him is overwhelming and catches him off guard. With a tug, it pulls him closer until his open hand presses into the center of the woman’s chest and he’s completely swallowed into her subconscious.

In the blink of an eye, the walls of her bedroom melt away and Kakashi finds himself blinking at the inside of a narrow hallway. The only light is ahead, momentarily blocked by a figure slowly creeping away from him. He narrows his eyes on the back of the figure’s pink hair and takes a step toward her.

The metal of his armor scrapes against the bricks of the wall pressing tight on either side of him but Kakashi pushes on, following the woman through her dream despite his confusion. Did she pull him into her dream on purpose? No, he doesn’t think she’s aware of his presence despite catching a glimpse of his reflection earlier. If she notices him, she hasn’t reacted to his intrusion into her subconscious, and until she does, he continues his pursuit down the narrowing hallway. 

A single bulb swings back and forth, the light blinking in time with the beat of her heart, and when the hallway finally opens up, he recognizes the scene unfolding around them. The alley he had first encountered her shimmers into existence and he peers around at the bags of trash piled so high they stretch over his head.

Cats dart out from behind them and the woman bends to give each of them a can of food. They thank her with hungry mewls and swishes of their tails and she leads the way around the corner where Kakashi expects to see a door to the clinic. But the alley stretches on and on like a labyrinth, opening to the left and right though she continues straight.

In the distance, someone is shouting for her but she doesn’t notice. Or she doesn’t care to answer them. He’s not too sure.

Finally, she makes a turn and the alley slopes up. The brick buildings on either side level out and at the top of the hill, grass and trees come into view. Droplets or water cling to every surface and Kakashi watches several drip off the quills of the evergreen trees surrounding them. 

Out of the corner of his vision, the woman spins and dances through the trees without a care in the world. He recognizes the emotion pulsing around her in this dream world—nostalgia, warm as sunlight and safe. Perhaps this is a scene from her childhood. 

Light filters through the trees and reflects off the billions of droplets, casting prisms of colors over the mossy ground. The woman spins in front of him, a smile on her face despite the dress she wears nearly slipping off her body. She leaps over a fallen log and when her feet land on the other side, water splashes around her ankles.

Kakashi half expects her to continue dancing through the forest, but she stands motionless on the other side of the log. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath and a ripple pulses through the emotion projected onto her dream.

Stepping closer, he can see that the forest ahead of her is darker. No light is able to penetrate through, though the branches of these trees are splintered and broken and bare. Fog crawls along the ashen ground and Kakashi steps onto the log, towering over the woman as he stares into the forest ahead of them. 

Several bodies of men lay scattered around the ground, some propped against stumps while others are left in puddles of bloody mud. And right in the center, feasting on the entrails of one of the men is a figure he recognizes but doesn’t expect to see here.

A demon.

The moment he realizes what he’s looking at, the confusion of her dream snaps into fear and the woman takes off running. Kakashi doesn’t hesitate and leaps off the log after her. He opens his mouth to shout at her but swallows his voice. He cannot reveal himself to her—not even in a dream.

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the demon stand to its cloven feet. It tilts its head back until the broken tips of its horns scrape their leathery wings and roars. The woman’s fear spikes around him so suddenly, he can feel the sharp sting of it against his face. Kakashi curses beneath his breath and slides to a stop in the rotten leaves on the ground, spinning around to face the wretched creature.

It’s barreling straight toward him, head bent low and breath puffing out of its nose in black clouds of ash and Kakashi braces himself for the impact. 

It never comes.

The demon disburses in a burst of ash and he throws his hands up to block it from covering his face. When he blinks and lowers them, a new sensation blankets the dream. He whirls around and finds the woman standing a few steps from him, eyes wide in bewilderment. Kakashi glances over his shoulder, just to make sure he’s the one she’s staring at, and as he turns back to face her, the confusion in her gaze shifts—into recognition.

She blinks and throws her hand to her mouth, covering it and muffling her words, though he hears her as plainly as if she’s speaking in his own head. 

“It’s you.”

Kakashi wrenches himself out of her dream, stumbling back on his heels and slamming into a foldable screen that separates her bedroom from the rest of her apartment. It scrapes against the floor and the corner of the counter punctures through one of the screens, ripping the fabric and the image of a bird painted on its surface. 

Light pulses out of the corner of his eye and he whips his head back to the woman on the bed. She’s moved, her arm clutching the sheets at her chest while her legs have become tangled in them. Her brows are pinched in concentration and her soul shimmers, hues of sea-green and moss and jade reflecting off the windows and mirror. 

Is this the sign Tsunade warned him about?

Is her soul responding to him?

He’s never, in all of his thousands of years of living, been this close to a mortal. Never has he walked so openly in their dreams. And never has he been seen. 

And now she’s seen him not once, but twice. 

The look on her face flashes through his thoughts again. Her eyes wide with that realization and awe that still has him reeling. She recognized him…but from what? From the reflection she glimpsed on a computer screen…

Or did her soul recognize what he is? 

This must be the sign.

She is what the Assembly feared she was.

But why did they fear a flame-touched soul? 

Kakashi stares past her to the black sky stretching beyond the city. He must return back to the Divine Realm and tell the seraphim what he’s discovered. They will take over his mission and—

“Don’t go.”

His eyes lower to the woman’s face, half expecting her eyes to be open and staring right through him…but she sleeps still despite the frown on her face. She whimpers, the sound small and nearly breathless, and Kakashi watches her roll onto her side and fold her hands beneath her chin. 

Slowly, he steps over a few pieces of clothing on her floor and stands next to her bed, careful not to get too close. But even with an arm’s length away from her, he can still feel the magnetic pull of her soul. It reaches for him, desperate to connect, and he tears his gaze away from her to peer down at his own hand.

The light of her soul slithers across his palm and between his open fingers and Kakashi swallows tightly. He’s felt something this inviting, this pure and blessed, before—in the Divine Realm where he is closest to the Flame. 

Though his body already mourns the touch of its presence, he pulls away and slips between the realms, leaving the woman, her dreams and her soul behind. And though he expects to find the warmth of the Flame reaching him the closer he gets to the Divine Realm, something within him feels…hollow.

Chapter Text

“Hello?” The sound of Ino’s voice pulls Sakura out of the daze she’d fallen into and she blinks, glancing over at the manicured fingers snapping right below her chin. “Earth to Sakura!”

Scowling, she swats her hand away. “I’m here. I’m just…sleepy.”

Even as she says it, she fights back a yawn and turns her attention to the bowl of pasta salad sitting on the patio table in front of her. Usually, lunch at her favorite bistro is enough to keep her focused on delicious food, but after the past few nights of restless sleep and bizarre dreams, she’s finding it difficult to concentrate—on pasta and Ino’s conversation.

Sakura stabs a few pieces of rotini and a cherry tomato before lifting the bite to her mouth. It’s rare that she has a day off from work and she’s thankful that she doesn’t have to hear patients complain about wait times or beg for pain pills. Though she had told Shizune she needed the day off for a bright and early doctor’s appointment, in truth, Sakura’s other boss had called for her early that morning.

Which certainly contributed to her restless, sleepless nights recently. Of course, Ino’s not privy to that particular side of Sakura’s life, but thankfully, she doesn’t ask too many questions. Instead, she’s quick to pull her purse into her lap and unzip it. 

“Oh, I have the perfect oil for that.” There’s a quick tink of glass vials bumping together and as she pulls two out to present them, Ino smiles. “Put two drops of each in your burner and you’ll fall asleep in no time.”

Sakura doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the essential oil burning that Ino got her for her birthday hasn’t been plugged up for the past three months. She offers her a smile and takes the two vials with a smile of appreciation. 

“Chamomile and bergamot” Ino points her spoon to the bottles. “Works like a charm”

“Thanks.” Sakura stashes the oil in her purse and wonders if chamomile and bergamot will keep Danzo at bay. Maybe if she throws the bottles at him, it could deter him for a few minutes, but Sakura is fairly certain that’ll only get her killed. Best not to try it out. “I’ll see if it works tonight.”

“Work stress keeping you awake?”

Saying yes wouldn’t exactly be a lie. Sakura shrugs and pushes some pasta around in her bowl. “That, and some really weird dreams lately.”

“Weird how?”

She didn’t have an immediate answer to Ino’s question and trying to think of one proved harder than she thought it would. A wrinkle of concentration appears between her brows and she shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Just…intense and realistic.”

“Sexy ones?”

The corner of Ino’s lips twist into a smirk as she leans forward to take a bite of her lunch. With a playful roll of her eyes, Sakura scoffs and shakes her head. “Not unless you count someone chasing you as sexy.”

“Definitely not. Do you know who is chasing you?”

It’s probably best to just change the subject. Admitting to anyone that she keeps catching glimpses of a stranger in her dreams that she thinks might be haunting her will make her sound even crazier than she already feels. But Sakura can’t get the figure out of her mind.

They’re not always in her dreams.

But some nights, she’ll catch just a quick glance of the same face she’d seen in the reflection of her computer screen. Just a blur of dark eyes watching her from the corners of her subconscious, a silhouette passing through a beam of light—each glimpse too quick for her to catch the details of their face.

Though the stranger hasn’t visited her dreams, or reflections in dark computer screens, for a couple of weeks, on most nights, Sakura finds herself wondering if they will appear again. 

Sakura blinks herself out of her thoughts and realizes Ino is still waiting for an answer to her question. She clears her throat. “No. I don’t know who it is. Have you ever…seen someone in your dreams? Like, over and over again but you don’t know them?”

“If I have, I don’t recall. Why?”

“I don’t know. I just keep feeling like I see someone in my dreams but when I try to actually look at them, they disappear. Or maybe I just don’t remember them when I wake up.” She pushes a chunk of pasta and tomato around the bottom of her bowl and takes a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I think I might be haunted.”

Across the table, Ino scoffs. “You’re not haunted. You’re just weird and weird people attract weird things.”

“What does that say about you?”

Ino pauses with a bite halfway to her mouth and blinks. “I guess I’m weird too.”

“No shit,” Sakura laughs, abandoning her fork in her bowl. She sits back in the chair. “Want to see a movie?”

“Can’t. It’s an anniversary for Sai and I so I’m going to put together something special for him tonight.”

Sakura frowns. “I thought your anniversary wasn't until next month.”

Ino reaches over and thumps her forehead, a grin stretching her glossy lips. “Different anniversary, babe.” 

“Oh. Ew.”

After sharing a few laughs, Sakura and Ino part ways outside the bistro, but not before the blonde turns to offer her a ride back to her apartment. “No, that’s okay,” Sakura says with a shrug. “I’ve got to stop by the store to pick up a few things anyway.”

And with a final wave from the car, Ino pulls away and leaves Sakura on the sidewalk. Despite the late summer heat, there’s a nice breeze blowing today and a walk will definitely help clear her head. The meeting with Danzo earlier in the day is still circling through her head, and though he only wanted to make her an offer to work for him permanently, again—which she declined, again—she can’t get the amount of money he offered her out of her head.

It was enough to make her pause.

Almost double what he pays her on the side.

But working under the table for a crooked, devious murderer is bad enough. Working for him full-time, being chained not just to his syndicate but to a life she knows is short lived, isn’t what she wants for herself. 

Of course, she’s not too sure what she truly wants for herself, but she knows that’s not it. 

With a sigh, she crosses the street and heads back to her apartment. She hadn’t lied to Ino. She truly did need to pick up a few things before going home and her preferred corner store is only a block away. 

It isn’t the best place, or the cleanest, but the prices are good.

And they’ve got the best strawberry pastries she’s ever eaten. 

Every Thursday, the owner’s wife will bake a dozen trays to sell and Sakura plans to buy at least six for herself. On the way, she makes a quick stop in a used bookstore and picks up a couple of cheesy romance novels and lets the bag swing from her elbow as she crosses into the side of town where she lives.

The clinic is just three or four blocks away, home is two in the opposite direction, and as Sakura comes to a stop at the corner, waiting for traffic to slow enough for her to cross, something creeps across the back of her neck. The breeze blows the loose hair too short to stay in her ponytail at the back of her neck and she folds her arms over her chest.

She almost regrets wearing such short shorts and a tank top. If she knew the wind would be carrying a chill in it, she’d have at least grabbed a light jacket. 

But even after the breeze stops, the creeping sensation lingers at the nape of her neck. Cold tips of phantom fingers walk up her spine and over her scalp, dragging ice and chills across her skin. 

Someone is staring at her.

She can practically feel their gaze sweeping over her.

Cutting her eyes to the side, she glances at the man in a suit and tie beside her. He’s far too occupied with the phone in his hand. A frown pinches his brow and he glances up at the passing cars with an impatient sigh. Behind him, a woman jogs in place, earbuds wedged into her ears. Her black ponytail swings back and forth and she checks the smartwatch on her wrist. 

Sakura turns and glances back over her shoulder.

The sidewalk is empty except for a man reaching into an aging, metal newspaper stand. He wrestles with the door for a moment, finally managing to wrench it free from the rusting hinge to grab a newspaper from within, and when he stands to walk in the opposite direction, Sakura lets out a breath.

It’s just paranoia leftover from her meeting with Danzo.

He always leaves her feeling a bit creeped out.

The corners of her lips start to lift with relief and she turns back to face the street. Just as her gaze sweeps back to the line of cars, she catches a pair of eyes pointed right at her from across the street. 

She whips her head back around and sucks in a breath. 

A man stands at the corner of a building that looks as if it’s been abandoned for the past few years. Dark eyes seem locked onto her and as she stares back, she takes in the rest of the man. 

Older than her by about thirty years, he looks like he’s seen better days. His skin sags as if it doesn’t quite fit his skull and his beard is flecked with grey streaks and bits of lint or trash. He steps out of the stoop and Sakura can’t help but take a step back even though there are enough cars between them to keep her safe for the time being.

Dread, so cold it paralyzes her to the spot, rushes through her veins, its ice spiking like daggers. Every gut instinct is shouting stranger danger in her head but she can barely breathe, let alone move to run. No one else seems to notice the man slowly stumbling closer and for just a brief moment, she fears she’s locked in another dream.

Though this one is definitely the most realistic yet!

From the street behind her, a car horn honks and startles her, nearly making her jump off the curb entirely. She takes her eyes off the man just long enough to see the guy in the business suit screaming at a cab for nearly clipping him. As he and the driver exchange expletives, Sakura wastes no time. She hurries around the cab and takes a detour, crossing over to the block in the opposite direction. She only risks a single glance back to make sure the man is where she left him, and as she does, she lets out a small breath of relief.

He lingers on the curb in the same position, making no attempt to follow her though his gaze does. It stays locked on her as if he can see through every person that passes between them. Another shudder races over her skin and she turns away. Even if it takes ten extra blocks, she’ll walk it just to avoid that creep. 

The more distance she puts between herself and him, the better she feels. By the time she makes it to her favorite corner store a block and a half away from her apartment, she’s already thinking of texting Ino to tell her about the creepy encounter. 

Ino is always a sucker for that kind of thing, currently neck deep in a true crime phase. She pulls out her phone to send a text, reaching for the door handle with one hand while her thumb taps quickly at the keys. 

As the bell above the door chimes, Sakura sends the text and slips her phone back into her pocket. The air inside the bodega smells of fresh pastries and she breathes it deep into her senses. Strawberry and blueberry? It must be her lucky day!

“Hey, Botan,” she calls out, though neither Botan or his wife are visible. They’re most likely in the back, bagging up the pastries. She waltzes to the back corner and grabs a pack of toilet paper, wedging it beneath her arm as she heads to the freezer. 

The glass door creaks as she pulls it open and her eyes fall to the milk cartons lined up on the bottom two shelves. Cold air pours out around her feet and she shivers. Sakura bends at the waist and snatches the first one with a decent expiration date on it, keeping on hand on the door to hold it open. As she stands straight, something catches her attention out of the corner of her eye.

Something that definitely wasn’t there two seconds ago.

A face peers through the glass at her, close enough that their breath fogs the surface, and the ice cold fingers of terror no longer walk up her spine. They shove their way into her chest and clutch her heart tight enough that it feels like it’s going to beat right out of her body. She sees her own reflection and watches her eyes go wide and the blood drain from her face.

The man looks even worse this close.

Thick, red veins make the white of his eyes look crimson and his dry, cracked lips are speckled with drops of blood. He presses closer to the glass until his nose is smushed and his lips are practically kissing it. With a tilt of his head, his gaze lowers from her face…down to her chest.

Before her stomach can even clench with disgust, his hand shoots out and grips the freezer door just below her own fingers. Her eyes cut to his hand and she watches in horror as his thumb brushes the edge of her palm. The feeling of rough, calloused skin and against hers feels as sickening as rubbing sandpaper against her flesh.

She wrenches her hand away and leaps back on her heels, slamming into a wire rack of pre-packaged snacks. A few tumble to the floor but she doesn’t even acknowledge them. She tries to call out for Botan or his wife, but her voice is wedged deep in her throat, far too terrified to make itself known.

The man’s fingers peel away from the door one by one and it slams shut with a deafening creak. He takes a single shuffling step forward, tongue darting out to spread a thick glob of saliva over his lips, and Sakura grips the milk carton hard enough to make the plastic groan in protest. If she has to, she’ll beat the guy with it. 

She’s not afraid of a fight.

But this guy feels…different—sick in a dangerous way. 

Every ounce of her being is desperate to get away from him. 

She knows she should fight, shove him away, scream at him to leave her alone, but she can’t. Every inch he gets closer, his presence seems to steal her breath and leave her frozen to her core—like a flame slowly being snuffed out.

His eyes linger on the center of her chest and he lifts a finger, pointing it directly at her heart. A wicked smile stretches his lips, deepening the cracks until fresh blood beads along their surface. “Oh, that is quite pretty.”

Sakura sucks in a breath at the deep, gravel of his voice scraping out of his mouth, and though she doesn’t blink or look away from the man, his figure blurs before her. Just around the edges of his shape, something else seems to break free. Black haze curls off of him like an aura and something sharp and foul grips through her senses, burning the back of her nose and throat.

Sulfur.

The man’s finger is only a hand’s length away from her chest and she knows if he touches her, he’ll kill her. She grips the milk carton tight in her fist and lifts it above her head. Even if it doesn’t hurt him, it’ll be a distraction so she can run.

Run as fast and as far as she can to get away from him.

Strands of pink blow across her face as the temperature in the bodega dips so suddenly, her breath comes out in a puff of fog. A sharp sound of fury hisses from the man’s throat and he jumps back with an agility she didn’t expect him to possess. 

He stares with hatred boiling the black of his eyes—not at her but to something above her. 

Sakura doesn’t dare tear her eyes away to check behind her and watches the man’s hand curl back toward his own body. He hisses again and spits at the tiles right in front of Sakura’s feet. She jumps back and her shoulder bumps into something solid. Another shelf—except, there is no shelf there.

Before she can glance over her shoulder and find something else to terrify her, the man’s shoulders slump and he grunts and chuffs like an animal. He turns and lumbers to the front of the store, rushing so quickly out of the door, the bell doesn’t even chime. In the silence he leaves behind, Sakura finally feels the ice freezing her to the spot start to melt away and she lets out a trembling breath.

The tension coiled so tight around her unravels and she lowers the milk carton back down at her side. Her fingers tremble around it and she realizes she’s crushed the pack of toilet paper against her side. She stares down at the bag hanging from her elbow, the nearly flattened paper rolls, and then her gaze moves to the spot on her chest the man had been pointing too.

Her stomach clenches and quivers with unease. 

What did he want with her?

His words echo through her head—that is quite pretty—and she gags at the memory of them. 

Another memory pulses forward and she whirls around, remembering that she had felt something behind her. Or someone. She swallows tightly as she stares at a line of glass doors and the neatly arranged packs of beer cans sitting on the shelves. She looks around, standing on her tiptoes to see over the aisles, but there’s no one in the store but her. 

She could have swore she felt something there. Not as solid as a wall, but hard enough that she was certain it had been someone. 

The ghost…

It’s a ridiculous thought.

Ghosts don’t scare away creepy perverts like that guy and they certainly can’t be felt. 

“Sakura?” The voice nearly wrenches a scream from her throat and she whirls around, finding a startled Botan at the end of the aisle. He holds up his hands, an apologetic smile already forming on his face. “My apologies! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” she breathes, reaching up with her free hand to push a damp strand of hair away from her face. “I just thought I was alone.”

“We didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh. I thought you were in the back. I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“We’ve been at the counter bagging pastries the past hour.”

From over his shoulder, his wife, Mei, offers a wave and holds up two cellophane bags. A bit of steam clings to the inside and Sakura can see the warm pastries within. But her mind is far away from sweets.

She blinks at him. No one was behind the counter when she came in. No one even greeted her when she called out to them. What the hell? 

“Did you…see that guy in here? He came in after I did.”

Botan scratches the top of his head and glances around the aisles. “I didn’t see a guy.” 

“Honey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mei lowers the bags and leans over the counter. “Do you need some water?”

Sakura shakes her head. She’s not sure what she needs—possibly some antipsychotics or a big bottle of wine—but she does feel as if she’s seen a ghost. Or felt one. “No,” she forces out, taking a step toward Botan. “I’m okay. It’s just been a weird day.”

“Here, I’ll throw in an extra pastry for you on the house. Blueberry.”

As she heads toward the counter to pay for her things, Botan shuffles to the register and Sakura passes by the last glass door in the refrigerated section. A tall, black bottle of wine catches her eye and she pulls the door open. Her eyes stay on the glass, making sure no one will sneak up on her this time. She grabs the neck of the bottle and lets the door close behind her. 

But she doesn’t turn to the counter just yet. 

Sakura stares at the condensation on the surface of the glass and takes a step forward, eyes narrowing as she studies a strange imprint on the droplets. As wide as her hand and long, the imprint looks as if something had brushed through the condensation—something with long, soft fibers.

Something that she almost instantly recognizes because she’s spent the last several weeks staring at the very thing that fits the imprint perfectly.

A feather. 

Chapter Text

The edges of the mortal realm shimmer like oil in a rain puddle and Kakashi hovers in the aether between worlds. He knows he must report what he’s discovered to the Seraphim Assembly, that if there are demons hunting this woman, this flame-touched mortal, then there might be need for divine intervention. He knows that Tsunade is waiting for him, curious about what he's discovered. 

And yet, he does not soar through the aether and enter that sweet relief only the divine realm can bring. His wings feel too tight across his shoulders, the soles of his feet ache, and his mind is muddled with thoughts he can’t make sense of. All symptoms of lingering too long among the indecisive, corrupt, and morally bankrupt population. 

Kakashi turns away from the mortal realm and tilts his face up into the burning sphere beckoning him back home. The light of the flame burns away the slight pain in his body and touches his face like a kiss of pure sunshine. His wings stretch, then beat, and he draws closer to the portal.

Flames ripple out from the portal, brilliant gold fading and soft blue, flickering violets and pink. His fingers twitch at his side with a longing to reach out and feel their burn. A burn so heavenly, it nearly swells his heart with regret. 

Regret for staying away too long.

Regret that even now, this close to divinity, something tugs at his navel, like a hook around his being urging him backward.

Kakashi doesn’t glance back at the oily edges of the mortal world. He closes his eyes and lets his wings take him upward and through the flames. They burn away the traces of sin clinging to his robes and the feathers of his wings and all at once, that regret fades into nothing. The unease and anxious sensations in his chest that have been plaguing every waking moment in the mortal world sizzles away and the ashes curl through the air.

And he’s home again.

The temple is quiet as he draws near. 

No Seraphim awaits him on the steps and Kakashi slows to a stop before reaching the wide, marble stairway. The columns tower overhead and he follows the length up to the swath of diamond points in the infinite black above them. A universe of forever, stretching out into oblivion and at the center, the Flame bursts forth new worlds and stars.

Up here, Kakashi can feel its presence clearer.

It washes everything he fears away.

So close to its presence, he can scarcely recall what a demon even looks like. The Flame’s nearness is too pure, too good that his mind can’t even fathom something evil birthed from its cauldron. 

“You’ve returned.”

The voice startles him and he turns, recognizing the strength of her tone. Though she stands before him in a simple, silver robe held at the waist by a viridian rope, the memory of her clad in the weight of her heavenly armor flashes through his mind. He hopes he doesn’t see her in battle any time soon, but is thankful her ferocity and strength is on their side.

“I have.”

Tsunade takes a step closer and nods, looking past him to the Flame glowing in the distance. “And what have you uncovered?”

“She is as we feared. The Flame burns within her and—”

Tsunade’s sharp eyes cut to him and he swallows his words. “We do not fear mortals touched by divinity.”

He nods, casting his gaze down to the marble between their feet. “Of course. The mortal is…peculiar.” When she doesn’t ask him to elaborate, Kakashi does anyway. “Her dreams are as vivid as the waking world and her soul reached for me, grabbed me like a physical touch.”

This time, the Seraphim hummed and crossed her arms beneath her chest. The glow of the distant light lit her face and hair like gold. Her face was passive and serene, but there was something in her gaze that Kakashi caught a faint hint of and recognized.

At one time, Tsunade was an angel like himself. Her strength was unmatched and her ferocity unwavering—a warrior angel that led ranks against hordes of demons and devils when the mortal world was new and brutal, cutting through them as easily as cutting through a cloud. She ascended shortly after to Seraphim, her soul soaked in heavenly oil and set ablaze in the cauldron.

Long after she sheds her physical body, her essence will take its place in the heavenly sky, burning for all eternity. 

An honor only deserved by few.

Tsunade turned her head slightly and looked at him. “There’s more.”

Not that he would hide the truth from her—from any Seraphim—but Kakashi is still hesitant to admit the mortal’s brush with the demon in the convenient store. Every fiber of his being had urged him, nearly screamed at him to not intervene, that his interference is strictly forbidden. 

He went against divine orders.

Though he hadn’t revealed himself to her, he had revealed his presence to the demon, and the woman is no fool. She felt him at her back, pressing against his physical form before he could move. The contact had been a shock to him as well.

Kakashi swallows tightly and takes a deep breath.

“She encountered a demon. It saw into her soul.”

Tsunade’s gaze sharpened.  “She survived?”

“I—Yes. I did not reveal myself to her, only to the fiend itself. It fled and I found it trying to shed its human form in an alley. I destroyed it.”

“Which will only send it into the depths and buy us a short amount of time.”

Kakashi’s jaw twitched and he spoke, offering a bit of hope. “They do not always hold onto their experiences in the mortal realm. I did make sure to obliterate it.”

“Good.” Tsunade turns, her robes sweeping over the tops of Kakashi’s feet. He follows as she moves toward the steps leading up to the temple. She ascends the first and turns back to face him. “Return to the mortal realm. Watch the woman—in the waking world and in dreams. Demons will get to a mortal through whatever means necessary and you must be there to intercept.”

It’s the last thing he wants to hear. Even so close to the Divine Flame, he can feel the faint memory of the mortal sins slithering through him. His brows knit as a frown flattens his mouth. “Perhaps if another—”

“No.” Her response is lightning fast and he blinks up at her. “The Assembly only wants to observe the situation for now. There is no need to involve the others. Do not reveal yourself to the woman or your brothers and sisters in the mortal realm.”

“And if she sees me? Her soul is touched and she seems to be aware of a presence.”

Amber eyes flicker with intensity as they burn through Kakashi and though he wants to look away, drop his gaze like a forlorn child, he holds it steady. “She’s seen you.”

“No. Only…glimpses of something in the corner of her eye. She thinks she’s haunted by a spirit.”

He watches the Seraphim’s lips flatten into a line before she leans closer. “Be sure that is all she assumes. Now, go. I worry your absence will bring her closer to danger.”

With a nod, he turns away from her and faces the glow of the Flame in the distance. It beckons him closer like outstretched arms, eager to protect, happy to soothe all of his worry. When he turns from it, a shiver rolls across his flesh, pricking his skin beneath the metal of his armor. Kakashi steps off the edge of the precipice and dives once again toward the mortal realm.

Chapter Text

A pair of hands roam up Sakura’s back to her hair, fingers instantly tangling, as her lips find the man she’d met at the bar half an hour ago. He smelled good, kept decent conversation flowing, and when he gave the slightest hint that she could come home with him for the night, she’d practically shoved him off the bar stool and out the door.

It took half a block before they were kissing.

Three more and he got her jacket off and currently has it draped over one shoulder.

What a gentleman, Sakura thinks with a smile curling her lips.

He drops a hand from her hair to fish a set of keys out of his pocket and just as they jingle, Sakura grips the front of his shirt and pulls him into her. She barely feels the force of her back slamming into the wall, far too preoccupied with the bulge in his pants pressing into her hip. 

An electric tingle slithers through her veins and settles low in her belly. She doesn’t stop kissing him and is quite impressed he manages to slip his key in the lock. As he throws the door open, she decides that she’ll ride him first. Reverse cowgirl. 

She wants him to stare at her ass and wants his hands on her hips as she grinds over him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs as if he can hear her dirty thoughts. “I’m so glad I got up the courage to talk to you.”

“Me too.”

Sakura grips his shirt collar and pulls him into his apartment. It’s more spacious than hers with a designated living area that doesn’t double as a bedroom. It smells like cologne and vanilla with a hint of tobacco. 

A smoker? Good.

He’s going to need a cigarette after she fucks him into oblivion.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Uh,” he stammers in the dark of his living room, his hands settling nervously on her hips. 

No, don’t stop now. This is not the time for pre-sex jitters.

“D-do you want a drink? I have some beer—”

Sakura shakes her head. “I’m just tipsy enough that I want to fuck you in every position known to man. I don’t need a drink.”

“Right.” 

He kisses her again and Sakura lets out an excited shriek as he lifts her off the floor and wraps her legs around his waist. The darkness of the living room fades into a soft, dim light coming from a bedside table lamp. She grins against his mouth and tries to recall his name. 

Lee?

No, that’s his friend who was making heart eyes at her from the other side of the bar. This guy’s name is something that starts with a K…

Kiba?

Shit. She really should have paid better attention when he was introducing himself. If only she knew then that she’d want to fuck him, she might have. 

As her feet touch the carpet near his bed, Sakura puts her hand to his chest and pushes until he falls back onto the mattress. He stares up at her, eyes twinkling with aroused excitement while the tent in his jeans twitches in anticipation.

With two plucks of her fingers beneath the thin straps of her dress, the entire thing lands at her feet and within seconds, her panties sit on top. Her lover for the night lets his gaze linger on her breasts for a moment before they go lower. He leans back and makes quick work of his belt and jeans, pushing them until Sakura can see the fabric of his boxers stretch over his cock.

“Get a condom,” she says, dropping her voice into a sultry whisper.

He obeys instantly, rolling onto his side to wrench the bedside table drawer open. As he digs around inside, Sakura slides a knee onto the bed and sniffs her armpit, just to make sure her deodorant is doing its job.

As he bites the corner of the wrapper and pulls the condom out, a familiar tingle starts at the back of Sakura’s neck. She blinks and reaches back, rubbing at the sudden chill walking icy fingers down her spine. It’s almost the same thing she felt two weeks ago when that total creep followed her into the store.

Not the disgust she felt from the creep, but what she felt when he left.

That unshakable feeling that someone had been there.

Someone she had swore she felt behind her.

Someone that didn’t seem to be there when she turned to look at them.

Kiba shoves his jeans the rest of the way off and wrestles with his t-shirt for a moment and still, the strange sensation remains. 

Sakura scans the room with a frown. A dresser sits across from the bed and aside from the door and a window with a pair of curtains pulled across them, there’s nothing else in the room. No closet, no window with a nosy neighbor watching from across the alley. Nothing to explain the feeling of being watched that didn’t border on the paranormal. 

There’s nothing besides the two of them and the feeling of something that refuses to leave her. 

“I, uh,” Kiba starts, clearing his throat. “I can go down on you if you want.”

Not quite the sexy talk she hoped for, but it does a good job distracting her from whatever it is creeping her out. Sakura glances down at his face and then lets her gaze slide to his waiting cock. 

“Maybe later. I just want to feel you inside me.”

“Oh, fuck. Okay.” 

Sakura swings her leg over his lap and hovers over his cock. She glances one last time to the corner of the room where she can still feel the presence of something. She’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing in this room.

And there’s certainly no ghosts.

It’s just her and her new friend and she’s going to fuck him and forget everything else. But as she eases herself down over his cock, her eyes flutter back to the corner of the room and can’t help but wonder what—or who—might be watching her.

Though she doesn’t usually stick around after one-night stands, Sakura was pleasantly surprised by Kiba’s stamina and found herself far too tired to walk back to her apartment. A couple of orgasms also got her mind off of that creepy feeling of being watched but her post-sex exhaustion didn’t stop the other thing plaguing her lately.

Her dreams are almost instantly chaotic and take her from one bizarre place to the next with no explanation.

She passes by Ino and Danzo having coffee at a bistro, both are giggling about something, and don’t seem to notice Sakura. Before she can even question why they’re together, the scene switches and she’s hurrying up and up and up a flight of stairs. They twist and turn in no discernible order and just when she thinks they’ll stop and she’ll find her destination, they dip down in a spiral.

The floor turns from iron to marble and the soft fabric of a skirt swishes over her bare feet. She doesn’t remember why, but there’s an urgency to her actions.

She’s late for something.

And if she doesn’t find her destination soon—

The stairs end abruptly at a wooden door with an iron ring for a handle. Sakura grips it and twists and the aging, rusted hinges groan with angry protest as it opens. 

Inside, gold and silver streamers hang from the ceiling and crystals the size of her hand cast prisms across the crowd dancing beneath. Faces are obscured by masks. Some are twisted into snarling, angry figures, others sad with a fringe of crystal tears dangling from the eye holes, and some are completely black. 

No mouths.

No eyes.

Just a dome of black covering their faces and they all turn to watch her move through the tightly packed crowd. No one seems to mind her pushing her way onward. They’re far too busy laughing with one another or twirling in elaborate dance moves to care. 

Maybe they’re all drunk.

You’re not supposed to be here, she tells herself, a prick of fear stabbing the center of her chest. You were never invited.

Sakura turns to look behind her but the door she came through is gone. There’s nothing but an endless curtain of glittering streamers swaying against the walls. 

Music plays from somewhere in the room, but there are too many voices, too much laughter and clinking of glasses and clapping, to hear it. Every now and then, she’ll hear snippets of conversations and it doesn’t take her long to realize it’s about her.

“She’s not one of us,” someone says as they leap past her, turning their twisted mask to stare at her through black eye holes.

“Who invited her?”

“She doesn’t have an invitation?”

“Someone needs to make her leave!”

Sakura sucks in a breath and runs, lifting the heavy fabric of her skirt. Her feet move across the dance floor but there’s too much water. It’s filling the ballroom and soaking into her gown and she can’t move as quickly as everyone else. She pushes through the water and grimaces, pulling her skirts along with her. They’re so heavy she can barely move.

Hands swipe at her, some tearing off bits of fabric. Her sleeve falls and another dancer twirls by and rips a necklace away from her throat. Pearls scatter across the surface of the water and Sakura tries to snatch them back up.

She curls her finger around a pearl and sobs, wishing she could just leave. She doesn’t want to be here either! She’s late for something and needs to find—

A hand finds hers and takes hold of her fingers. She gasps, lifting her gaze to the masked figure before her. He stands in the center of the ballroom and the crowd parts around him, masks turning to stare in awe as they pass. Their dancing comes to a stop and they stand in a circle around Sakura and the stranger. 

The music has stopped and the shouts from before have turned to whispers far too low for her to hear. She studies the figure before her and lets him pull her up and out of the water. Her gown is dry as it settles around her feet and she releases the hold on her skirts. 

The stranger’s mask is different from the others. It’s far more simple with only the lower portion of his face obscured by a dark mask. She follows it down the sharp angle of his jaw and the length of his throat and blinks in surprise at his attire.

Unlike the elaborate costume suits and gowns of the other party-goers, the stranger wears plates of metal armor that gleam like gold. The prisms reflect off the surface and Sakura can almost feel their caress as they pass over her face. Her gaze shifts back up to his face and meets his dark eyes.

Eyes she’s seen before.

She frowns.

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is of no importance,” he murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper as soft as the rest still scattering through the crowd.

“Then tell me what you’re doing here.”

“You were afraid before.”

Sakura shakes her head. “Yes, I was. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here and everyone started to attack me…I got scared.”

“They feel your fear and want to fan the flames of it for their masters,” the stranger says, looking away from her to scan the crowd still circled around them. The hum of whispering falls quiet and the silence of the room is disturbing. A shiver falls down her spine as she looks from one black gaze to another. No eyes seem to look out at her from the masks but she can feel their stares, can feel their anticipation and excitement.

Like a string pulled tight and waiting to be plucked.

What are they waiting for?

“Who are they?”

The stranger doesn’t respond. His grip on her hand tightens but not painfully. He takes a step and leads her toward the wall of masked party goers. They part around him like a school of fish around a shark and their hushed voices shift into hisses. 

“Watchers.”

“Are they always here?”

Where even is here?

“For some.”

“Are you a watcher?”

He comes to a stop for just a moment but doesn’t turn to look at her. Without giving her an answer, he continues to lead her through the never-ending crowd. Just when she thinks it will continue on for eternity, two crying masks part and a door appears between the streamers, but it isn’t the same as before. Sakura recognizes it, but only vaguely.

It looks like a bedroom door. 

With a twist of the knob, the stranger pushes it open and releases the hold on her hand. Sakura sucks in a breath and glances back into the ballroom. The crowd watches her from a distance, tension thick and tight as if the moment the stranger disappears, they’ll pounce on her. 

“I’m still afraid,” her voice is strange, warbled as if coming from a broken speaker in another room. She blinks and turns back to face the stranger. He looks back at the crowd behind her and his dark eyes narrow with sharp malice and Sakura wonders if he sees something other than guests attending a strange masquerade. 

“I know. They can smell your fear and will tell their masters where to find you.”

“How do I get rid of them?”

The press of a palm at her back pulls a breath from her throat and she blinks at the warmth spreading up her spine. With a gentle push, the stranger guides her through the door and shuts it behind her, plunging them both into darkness. 

“You only need to wake yourself.”

From somewhere in the room, the glow of a light slowly brightens to life and Sakura can see the outline of a bed. Blankets are twisted around two sleeping figures. A man has his arm wrapped around the other figure’s waist and she faces away from him. Her hands grip her pillow tight and there’s a look of confusion pinching her brows.

“Who is—”

A warm breath passes over her shoulder and her words stick to her tongue. Her eyes flutter close as the stranger leans down from behind her and whispers a single command in her ear. “Wake up.”

Sakura opens her eyes and stares into the darkness for a moment before the plaid pillow cases and navy blanket come into view. Kiba’s arm is draped over her side and despite his body heat pressed against the length of her back, her arms are covered in goosebumps. 

Something lingers from her dream though it’s already fading quickly. She can barely coax it from the fog of her sleep and she frowns, trying harder to remember it. 

Words.

Someone said something to her.

Whispered it.

And something else as well…a touch along the small of her back and—

Sakura sits up and clutches the blanket to her bare chest, eyes scanning the foreign bedroom as the grey light of dawn starts to peek around the curtains. Her eyes instantly cut to the corner near the window. There’s nothing there, of course, but she can’t shake the feeling that there’s an unseen gaze watching her.

It had spoken to her.

It had touched her.

And even now in the fading wake of the dream, she can still feel the warmth of their breath as they bent down and whispered against her ear.

Chapter Text

The blade catches the flickering light of a nearby neon open sign moments before it plunges deep into the demon’s chest. Black rot and blood pour from the wound as Kakashi rips his sword free. With a dying screech, the hellspawn slumps at his feet and his flesh bubbles and festers until all that remains is a puddle of black grease on the pavement.

Behind him, another demon hisses and Kakashi slowly turns his head to stare at the creature from over his shoulder. Red eyes dart from him to the ground where its brethren died and Kakashi faces it just as it backs up on its cloven heels. 

He takes two steps and doesn’t give the beast time to flee.

Claws swipe as Kakashi drives his sword up.

Three sharp talons pierce his elbow between the panels of his armor but his blade strikes true and the demon screeches in agony. Kakashi rips it free and watches its form crumple to the asphalt and wither away.

And though he’d searched the city and sent nearly half a dozen putrid spawns back into the pits they’ll eventually crawl out of all over again, he isn’t satisfied. Something still gnaws at his mind and in the depths of his soul. 

For far too many times, the memory of the Flame-Touched woman reappears in his thoughts and he squeezes his eyes shut against them. It does no good. He can see her as if she suddenly appears on the street before him just as she had looked in her dream. Afraid, lost, drowning. 

He hadn’t meant to take her hand.

Why had he?

His instructions from the Assembly had been clear.

He is to watch her, observe the woman—protect her, yes, but nothing more than that.

Demons pose no threat in a mortal’s dreams. Oftentimes, the taste of a human’s fear is enough to satiate them for the time being but they cannot do harm. 

So why had Kakashi reached for her hand?

Kakashi forces his eyes open at the same moment pain in his elbow flares. He glances down at his arm and watches three shimmering rivulets of ichor race down his vambrace. Wounds in the Divine realm heal instantly. He almost forgot that in the mortal world, he will have to wait for them to close.

He lifts his face to the afternoon sun and takes a step. The Flame calls to his soul, beckons him back home, but he stops himself.

To return is to leave the woman alone for far too long. 

He cannot return until he finds out more about her, about what the demons want with her. Or if they’re even still searching for her at all. 

With another glance at the two puddles that, to any passing mortal, appear like tiny pools of grimy water and oil, Kakashi turns away from the sun and faces the city. Humans pass by him like blurs of light. Their souls shimmer when facing the Flame but fade in the shadows. Their faces are obscured and featureless and their eyes see right through him. 

He’s never cared about them.

They’re simply objects to be protected because their souls emerged from the Flame. They’re nothing but crystals that burst forth and will one day return unless they’re snatched by hellspawn and dragged into the pits of their dark lair. 

And yet…

One mortal face stains his mind.

Green eyes wide as they stare up at him from within her dream.

Lips parted in dazed fascination.

Even in her dreams, she’s too observant, too quick to recognize that he is different. He wonders if she remembered him from when she glimpsed his reflection in the dark computer screen. The fact that she noticed him at all is unheard of.

The moment with the possessed man in the convenient store was a mistake. He should have been more careful. He could have killed the demon without ever intervening and yet…

Kakashi sheaths his sword and wipes the streaks of ichor from his armor. The pain in his arm barely keeps his attention. In a day’s time, it will be healed. 

He turns with the intention of finding her once more. Above all and his worries aside, his duties are clear. She needs to be observed and watched, needs to be protected if her strange soul is Touched. 

The wings at his back unfurl into a languid stretch but before they can beat and push him into the sky, a sound pulls his attention into the shadows of a narrow alley. Kakashi’s hand grips the hilt of his sword but he doesn’t pull it free just yet. A figure is in the shadows, approaching him with slow steps. 

Their head is covered with a black hood and the robes hang from their body like rags. But the sulfur is unmistakable and it sears through Kakashi’s senses and churns his stomach. He pulls at his sword but as the figure steps into the light, they hold their hands out in a surrender, each finger tipped with sleek, black claws. On several of their fingers, pewter rings sit and some contain flecks of rubies and onyx.

“I carry no threat to you, Flame-watcher.” 

Unlike the other demons whose voices are like blades scraping across gravel, this figure speaks clearly, their words carrying an accent Kakashi hasn’t heard for centuries. He bristles instantly, his sword pulling free of its sheath with the song of metal on metal. He stares at the figure whose face is obscured in the shadows of his hood, but his heart already knows what it is.

An archdemon.

Kakashi’s killed them before.

But not alone and not surrounded by mortals.

No matter how oblivious they are to the other realms, a battle between angel and archdemon isn’t so easily ignored.

Can he lure the foul devil into the air and battle there? Convince it to find a less populated spot so their unearthly confrontation will not result in mortal lives lost? 

Again, the creature speaks, its words emerging from the tail end of a devious chuckle. “Lower your weapon. We both know you will not risk a battle here.”

Kakashi’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t release his hold on his sword or sheath it at his side. “Why are you on this plane?”

The archdemon holds his hands out, palms up to catch the sunlight and even then, the devil seems to choke the light until it withers and turns to shadows in its grip. Kakashi glances from its hands to the shadowed face and narrows his eyes. Whichever archdemon it is, has the ability to conceal themselves. The shadows beneath the hood are too dark to be natural. 

“You and I have much in common.”

Kakashi hisses a curse in the Divine language and the archdemon flinches, though only slightly. A mere scratch to its evil existence and it heals instantly. 

“We both seek an answer to the same question.”

The mortal woman. 

Kakashi doesn’t need the archdemon to explain. There’s only one reason a creature of their rank would even risk a step onto the mortal plane. Flame-Touched souls are a delicacy to lesser demons. To archdemons…they’re a ticket out of their eternal torment. If one were to consume a soul touched by the Flame, they would shed their chains and step freely from one plane to the next with all of their strength.

And there’s only one thing they would seek to destroy.

The cauldron.

Kakashi lifts his sword and sets his feet wide, every muscle in his body tensing for the upcoming fight. His soul has trained for this moment and though he has no assistance from his brothers and sisters, he will fight to his death to ensure the Flame is safe. 

Another chuckle gnaws at his insides and he swallows tight against its influence. The archdemon lowers its hands and takes another step into the light, straightening its spine so it stands at its full height. If its face wasn’t obscured by concealment, Kakashi would be looking right into its black, soulless eyes. 

“I wonder which one of us will find her first.”

Her.

Kakashi strikes with his sword, swinging it down at an angle where it will slice right through the archdemon’s neck but as the blade makes contact, shadows unfurl through the air like ink in water. The sword strikes the sidewalk like lightning. Concrete splinters and craters and someone—a human who only sees the results from the blow—shouts.

Without hesitation, Kakashi launches into the air, spiraling over the rooftops. His wings beat hard and fast and he lets them guide him toward the only trace of the Flame in this realm. He can feel her soul flickering in the distance and reaches out to search for any evidence of the archdemon’s foul existence.

There’s nothing but the faint essence of lesser demons but they barely register, each one too far away to be a threat. Kakashi’s wing narrow over his back and he slices the air between the buildings, cutting back and forth, beneath clothes and electric lines. When the Flame soul is within reach, he lands in a crouch in the alley behind the familiar human clinic.

A cat hisses at his sudden arrival but does not flee. 

Kakashi closes his eyes and drags in a deep breath through his nose.

Antiseptic chemicals.

Dried blood.

Paper.

Food containers.

No sulfur, no ash, no hellfire.

When he opens his eyes, he’s inside the clinic and the mortal nurses and patients are obscured, faces blurred and souls nothing but dull lights bobbing through the halls and in the rooms. He takes a step and then another until the Flame connects with him, spinning him around to face the Touched human woman. 

Jade light moves out of one of the exam rooms, pausing as the woman turns back to the patient with a gentle tone in her voice. “I’ll be right back with that steroid shot, Mrs. Tana.”

Like the sun breaking through storm clouds, her voice parts the blur surrounding her form and as the glow of her soul dims, Kakashi stares at the woman’s face. Her eyes are focused on the chart in her hands and she pinches her lips in thought as she scribbles something. She doesn’t look up at him, doesn’t even notice his existence as she passes right by him and he stares down at the lanyard around her neck hanging between her breasts.

Memories of her body flash through his mind and his brows pinch into a frown as he follows her to a small room with charts lining the walls. She lifts her head to say something to one of her coworkers but he barely hears her words. His thoughts returning once more to the night he had stepped into her dream and spoke to her.

He sees her standing in the stranger’s bedroom, her fingers slipping beneath the strap of her dress. The fabric hit the floor and from where he stood in the corner of the room, Kakashi could only see the curve of her right breast. He finds nothing about the mortal body attractive and isn’t even capable of feeling anything toward humans aside from a sense of duty to protect the fragments of the Flame within them.

And yet…

Chapter Text

Three small drops of metallic liquid catch Sakura’s attention as she lifts a hand to the light switch on the back wall of the clinic. She frowns and takes a step to the spots on the white tile, bending at the waist and then lowering into a crouch. The three drops shimmer under the fluorescent lights like black liquid pearls.

At first, she thought they were blood which isn’t too far-fetched. Their last patient of the day had a cut on his arm from a workplace accident that required several stitches and a tetanus shot. But this definitely isn’t blood.

It almost looks like mercury, but the clinic moved to digital a few years ago and tossed all of the old fashioned thermometers. There’d be no reason for a mercury spill to be in the middle of the floor and especially not such a small amount. 

Sakura grabs a box of nitrile gloves from the supply shelf and tugs one on her right hand. She reaches for the drop nearest her and smears it across the floor as she dips her middle finger through it. The smear looks almost violet in the light but the edges of the stain shimmer like iridescent powder. 

She smears the drop across her thumb and it feels slick like oil. 

Though she knows better and knows that if she were to be caught, she’d get a firm talking to by Shizune, Sakura can’t help it. She brings her fingers to her nose and sniffs. Her brows pinch and she pulls her fingers away, staring down at the smear with a frown. 

Was that vanilla?

There’s a hint of something underneath it as well—something similar to salt like a breeze blowing across the ocean. 

“You coming?” A familiar voice startles her and she sees Shizune’s head just over the nurse’s desk in the center of the room. 

“Yeah, just cleaning up.” Sakura wipes the rest of the drops up with a paper towel and disposes of it and her glove. She turns the light off, makes sure the back door is locked, and hurries out to meet Shizune. “They fed the cat today, right?”

“Yes. He got his regular tuna and some salmon that Yuki brought from home. He was fat and sassy about an hour ago.”

As they walk to Shizune’s car, she glances at Sakura and, like most nights, offers her a ride home. This time, thankfully, Sakura doesn’t have to lie about an excuse. She actually has one. 

“I’m heading to Ino’s. Her fiancé has an exhibit at a studio downtown tonight so I’m going to mingle with the art crowd and drink expensive champagne while judging art I know nothing about.” She grins and glances up the street at the bus stop. There’s a few people sitting on the bench and one leaning against the lamp post and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Good.

She hasn’t missed it.

“I’m actually jealous. The only culture I see these days usually comes with bacteria or fungus. Have fun and see you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

An hour and a half later, Sakura and Ino walk into the art studio. The building is in the historic district of Konoha and everything is exposed brick and modern-meets-mid-century, with a dimly lit entrance that leads up a flight of narrow, creaking stairs. As they reach the top, a young man dressed in a black button-up shirt and black slacks greets them with a pewter tray of champagne.

Ino plucks one from the tray and waltzes off. Sakura does the same but pauses long enough to take a small napkin and nod a thanks to the waiter before she catches up to her best friend. Art hangs on the walls in perfectly measured patterns, some in threes, other large pieces taking up an entire space on its own. There are faux walls set up in the center of the room for more wall space and overhead, industrial pipes and silver ducts hang like their own installation. 

There are already a dozen people mingling through the exhibit and a small group off to the side near the windows that look out over the street. A few high-top tables are set up and standing between two of them is a familiar face—one that offers no smile or emotion as both Ino and Sakura step up to him.

Sai slides an arm around his fiance’s waist and lets her kiss him on the cheek, though his gaze is focused on the people walking through the studio. He doesn’t show his emotions well, but Sakura can see he’s somewhat nervous. She glances back at the brighter lit area and offers a smile. “It must be exciting to have so many people here already.”

“Exciting is a strange word to describe it.”

“He’s always like this.” Ino smooths her manicured hand over the lapel of his suit and straightens his tie. “You know your work will be a hit. It always is.”

“Yes, that's because you think it will be. They are a bit more critical.”

“If they don’t like it, I’ll make sure they leave knowing how blind they are. Here, drink.” She hands him her champagne glass and Sakura takes a sip of her own. 

Behind her, the stairs creak and groan as another group of people make their way up to the studio and several voices join the din of conversation. Sakura smiles at her friends and nods toward the floor. “I’m going to take a look around before the crowd gets in the way.”

She doesn’t wait for Ino to join, knowing she’s right where she needs to be. Several people make a bee-line for the high-top tables, all with champagne glasses in their hand and as Sakura ducks away, some greet both Sai and Ino with praise. Though the light is brighter over the actual exhibits, Sakura is thankful to be out of the crowd and alone.

It almost feels normal.

No paranoid dreams keeping her awake.

No criminals pounding on her door and demanding she work for them.

Just a normal night with her friends.

And thankfully, it’s an excuse to wear something nice without the intention of using it to get laid. Her dress, a black, silk cheongsam with red blossoms printed on the skirt, would definitely get her laid, but that’s not her intention tonight. It’s just nice to feel nice for a change. 

The first wall of art is various mediums from oil paints to watercolors and none of them are Sai’s creations. Most seem to be done by a woman and after a few quick glances at the titles, Sakura moves on. She pauses long enough to take in the paintings while she sips her champagne but truthfully, art is a bit beyond her.

She can enjoy a beautiful painting but some are abstract and she doesn’t have the energy to try to determine what it could mean. Especially one of a nude man covering his face with a duck titled Bedside Manner. She hides a smile behind her glass and turns to the interior wall where some photography portraits hang. 

As she steps to the right to give room for a man and a woman to slide through the crowd, she bumps into someone’s elbow and a few drops of champagne spill over the edge of her glass. “Oh, I’m sorry, I—”

Sakura blinks at the empty space beside her and spins, eyes darting to search for whoever she had bumped into. There’s no one on this side of the wall. No one close enough for contact, that is. A woman stands several steps away and is far too engrossed in the conversation she’s having on her phone to even notice Sakura’s existence. 

Weird.

She could have swore she felt someone’s elbow against hers. With a frown, Sakura brushes her hand down her arm and blinks at the feeling of something wet. Had she spilt that much of her drink?

She glances at her arm and then her fingers and nearly drops her glass. Two black, pearlescent streaks shimmer beneath the overhead lighting and she gapes down at the stain, unsure what to do. It’s the same as the mysterious liquid from the clinic. She’s sure of it. 

Glancing around once more to make sure no one had spilled something on her or that nothing had dripped from the thick ducts above her, Sakura wipes the liquid away with her napkin and crumples it tightly in her hand. What the hell? 

Is she truly going crazy?

What is this stuff?

She blinks at the bubbles in the bottom of her glass and debates on pouring it down the drain in the bathroom. Alcohol might be a bad choice for the night if she’s already hallucinating mysterious droplets. 

From across the room, laughter breaks through her thoughts and she glances back to see a small crowd gathered around her friends. Like always, Ino is the socialite and Sai is the quiet shadow at her side. He forces a weak smile as a man nudges him with his elbow as the others laugh and Sakura shakes her head.

All she wants is one night of normal.

Is that too much?

What’s next? Is Danzo going to waltz in and have one of his goons punch her in the face? 

Best not to think that into existence. 

Sakura sighs and tilts her glass up at her lips, swallowing the rest of her champagne. In the back corner of the studio is a narrow door with the word bathroom written on it. She heads toward it and reaches for the knob to twist. Locked.

Someone from within clears their throat and Sakura takes a step back, offering a sheepish smile to a woman passing by. She faces the room and waits for the bathroom to be free, eyes scanning the faces looking at the exhibits. Most of the people are dressed well and those that aren’t don’t linger long. They make a quick round and disappear back down the stairs as if they stumbled onto something they didn’t mean to.

The windows facing the street are tinted but the street lights outside spill streaks of gold across the parquet floor. Ino is as gorgeous as ever in her violet, curve-hugging dress and Sakura smiles watching her and Sai. To anyone else, they look like complete opposites. Night and Day. Introvert and extrovert.

But they play annoyingly well off one another. 

Sakura is only a bit jealous of their love but only because she doesn’t have anything similar. She doesn’t even have anything remotely in the same ballpark. 

She ducks her head and licks her lips, staring into the empty glass in her hands. As she lifts her head and shakes a fallen strip of pink out of her face, her eyes move to the right though…she almost feels as if someone is staring at her in the opposite direction. 

The crowd parts, a couple stepping away from the wall of portraits, and before Sakura can look away, a dark pair of eyes catch her attention. They’re slightly narrowed, almost bored, but focused so intently on her that a tingle of warmth flutters through her midsection. Someone steps in front of the figure and Sakura blinks, leaning to the side to catch the stranger’s gaze once more but…

They’re gone.

There’s nothing but the brick wall and the top of the waiter’s head as he greets someone else near the stairs. But she can still see those eyes in her head as if the stranger stood right before her. Oddly familiar and yet…like none she’d ever seen before. 

And though the brief glimpse had only lasted a few seconds at most, that sliver of warmth still lingers inside her. 

Behind her, the bathroom door opens and she steps aside to let a man slip around her. He doesn’t offer a word to her and she slinks into the bathroom, shutting the door quickly and locking it behind her. She sets her glass down on the sink, tosses the soiled napkin into the trash, and washes her hands. 

For a few minutes, she simply stands in the quiet and stares at her own reflection. Her makeup is smudged only a tiny bit in the corner of her left eye and she wipes away the mascara before making sure the wrinkles in her dress are smoothed. When she meets her gaze once more, she frowns.

She can’t get the dark pair of eyes out of her head.

Like they’ve looked at her before.

But where?

She hadn’t even seen the person’s face. She’d been far too distracted by their eyes to even make note of their hair or what they were wearing. 

Sakura smooths a hand over her hair and gives herself one last glance in the mirror before opening the bathroom door. The breeze of the AC and the door swinging open unfurls that same, stubborn strip of hair from behind her ear and it drapes across her left eye as she takes a step out—and right into a figure.

They’re a head taller than her, possibly more, and their shoulders are broad though their waist is slim. Sakura blinks up at a pale face bent toward her, dark eyes framed by a few strands of silver hair and one has a scar right down the center. Her gaze falls down the line of their nose to pale lips. She reaches out and puts a hand on their arm, her fingers curling around metal.

Wait…metal?

The question leaves her head the moment it forms and her lips part as she sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, shaking her head though her eyes refuse to leave the stranger’s face. His eyes feel infinite, endless and black, and she can’t look away. Her own widen in surprise and she stammers for a moment before finding her voice. “Do I know you?”

He takes a breath as if to answer her but doesn’t speak, letting it out through his nose like a sigh of disappointment. The stranger searches her gaze as if he’s looking for something in particular but whether he finds it or not, Sakura isn’t sure. 

And then, in a whisper of a breath, barely even loud enough for her to hear over the conversation in the studio, he says, “you see me.”

It isn’t a question, but Sakura answers all the same.

“Yes. I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

“No. You must be mistaken.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “No, I’m sure of it. Your eyes—”

“Sakura?” A familiar voice calls from just a short bit away and it's enough to distract her. She tears her eyes away from the stranger and turns away from him, finding Ino standing not too far from her. The blonde finds her seconds later and smiles, though there’s a bit of worry clinging to the edge of the gesture. “There you are.”

“Sorry, I was in the bathroom and I bumped into—” She glances back and the words on her tongue disappear. There’s nothing behind her but the wall and the bathroom door. There isn’t another way out, nowhere for anyone to hide and yet…the stranger is just gone. 

She spins in a complete circle, eyes darting in bewilderment, and she searches through the crowd in the studio. But he’s gone. How did he just…disappear?

“Hey, are you okay?” Ino takes her arm and ducks until her eyes meet Sakura’s, pulling her attention to her. “You look scared.”

She is.

There’s no way she didn’t see him leave.

There’s no way he could hide from her unless he ducked into the bathroom but she would have heard him—would have seen the door open!

“I’m fine, I just…” Sakura takes a step out into the brighter light of the studio and looks at every face and searches for anyone with silver hair. There’s no one. Like a ghost, he simply vanished, leaving her to wonder if she ever even saw him to begin with. “I thought I saw someone I know.”

“Who?” Ino turns and looks into the room as well but there’s no point.

A dull ache starts to pound right behind her forehead and she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Something on the tips of her fingers makes her stop halfway to her face and she blinks down at the black, iridescent smear. The same smear she had washed off…the smear that had been on her opposite hand.

She’d grabbed the stranger’s arm, brushed the cool metal he wore. 

Sakura stares at the pad of her finger and tilts it beneath the light. If this came off the stranger, then he’s who she’d bumped into earlier. Which means…he had been at the clinic as well. 

“No one,” she murmurs, shaking her head as she lowers her hand and slips it behind her back. “I just thought I saw someone.”