KakaSaku Fairytale Fic Challenge

[flametwirler]

 

The Music Peddler

~ ~ ~

Kakashi stared up at the large arch covering the gate to Konoha. It had been five years since he’d stood beneath it and he breathed in deep. He stopped, already expecting the approaching guards. After all, they couldn’t just let anyone who wasn’t a leaf shinobi waltz in. He already had his papers in hand, declaring his ex-nin status. Once they saw the name and the scar, though, they’d recognize him and he’d have no trouble getting in.

It had been five years, but still he hadn’t expected to return so soon.

~ ~ ~

The fourth Ninja War had lasted a long, gruesome three years. In the end it was that that was the final straw and did him in. Victory was finally secured, the rebuilding of Konoha was moving along at a steady progress, and suddenly he was more tired than he’d ever been.

After a lifetime of fighting and turmoil he was tired - not least because of what had been revealed about Madara - and he’d simply needed a change of pace and a chance to atone. He’d been a killer his whole life, a good one too, and he’d known that was necessary to keep the peace. In a way he was proud of what he’d done, of how he’d supported his village, but he’d seen too much destruction. He wanted to promote life now, not end it, and he knew he couldn’t do that as the infamous Copy-Nin.

He felt a twinge of regret that he was leaving when everyone was still recovering from the war, but that would be happening for years to come. Besides, a new generation of leaders had grown out of the ranks during the fighting, so he knew he wasn’t really needed.

The only ones he really was sorry to leave were Sakura and Naruto. He trusted both of them in the care of Tsunade, but it was still hard to say goodbye. Naruto had, of course, been the key to ending the war, but his indomitable spirit was somewhat dampened as an after effect. He would need time to recover but he was already going on and on about being hokage again, about showing the world what a host was really capable of - as if he and the eight-tails hadn’t shown that during the last months of the war.

Tsunade was subtly grooming him for the position. The elders didn’t much approve but they wouldn’t be around forever. Besides, Naruto had a way of wearing a person down until they couldn’t help but give in to him. It was one of his better qualities and something that would be invaluable as a hokage.

Sakura, now she was a different story altogether. During the war she’d been almost sequestered, the elders worried about the effects of letting her into the midst of battle. Of course her emotional attachment to Sasuke had been in question, then there was the fact that someone might try to abduct her just because she would be the best threat anyone could use against Naruto. Everyone knew he fought for those he loved.

She’d shown spirit though. Of course at first she’d grumbled and railed about the unfairness of it, of how she wanted to be able to prove herself, but when it was clear her situation wasn’t going to change she made the best of it. She threw herself into her medicine and had grown by leaps and bounds. It was amazing what she’d been able to accomplish in the last three years and she was already something of a medical phenomenon. He was sure he’d only hear great things about her in the coming years.

Still, leaving was something he just had to do. He had to atone and make peace in his own way, and he knew it lay outside the gates of Konoha. So it had been with both a lightness of spirit and a heaviness of heart that he’d handed over his headband, filled out the appropriate paperwork, and shouldered the small pack that held the few possessions he actually cared about.

He traveled for what felt like ages, never staying in any one place for too long, until he came to Bird Country. It was small, nestled as it was between Wind Country and Earth Country, and had few resources. Its militia was poorly informed and their organization was even worse; no one showed even the slightest spark of recognition upon meeting him. But worst of all, it had been caught in the middle of the war, taking the brunt of the force aimed at larger enemies.

It had been decimated. Seeing it, he could understand how Nagato had grown into the monster he’d become.

Here, he thought, here he could finally do some good. Their militia was something of a joke since they didn’t dare to compete with the neighboring superpowers lest one of them take offense and decide to show the small country what true might was. Mostly they were for maintaining the law and protecting against the many roaming wild animals. He could teach these villages good defense instead of tactical killing without his reputation getting in the way and those in power trying to fashion him into a weapon.

He didn’t want power either - he’d had tastes of it and it had sat sour in his mouth. Once he found a town to live in, he simply wanted to help those in charge funnel their resources more efficiently and show them they didn’t have to live in fear. And since Bird Country didn’t border on Fire, he didn’t have to worry that his defensive work could one day undermine a mission from leaf, nor that he’d be recognized and called out by any roving shinobi.

As it was, he wasn’t sure he’d ever expected to go back to Konoha. He had no definitive plans for the future so he hadn’t necessarily expected to stay away either, but five years was a long period of time after which to make a reappearance. But he’d promised to help this village as much as he could, and he’d come to realize that one of their biggest obstacles was that their medical knowledge was sorely lacking.

Before arriving there he’d thought Suna backward, what with the trouble they’d had saving the Kazekage’s older brother. Even considering Sakura’s giftedness in her field, he’d never expected a fifteen year old would’ve been able to whip up an antidote Suna’s top medics couldn’t pull together.

Still, Bird Country was a full step behind even them.

Their simple, daily village medicine was pathetic and their medics and medic-nin only knew the most basic ways to do any healing with chakra, and he’d already shown them everything he knew on the subject - which thankfully was more than the average shinobi, considering the enviable luck of having both a sharingan and a skilled medic on his team back in Konoha.

Now though, as his papers were processed and he walked back into the city, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d heard rumors abut Sakura over the years; just because he’d left didn’t mean he didn’t keep tabs on what was going on in Konohagakure. She’d done great things in the medical field and become one of the top researchers in all the five countries. She’d been making great achievements even when he left though, so with her tenacity he was unsurprised by this turn of events.

No, what troubled him were the reports of her unwillingness to cooperate with any outside requests for assistance. The rumors varied widely, as rumors do, as to why and how she denied the requests, but most of them carried the same underlying current - that she was completely unsympathetic to anything outside her own lab.

As the stories had gotten to be more and more frequent he’d known he’d have to take a trip back soon anyhow, to see for himself what was going on and, if there was any truth to the rumor, what had happened to her. So the timing was fortuitous, in its own way. Somehow he knew that nothing was going to be easy from this point on though.

~ ~ ~

The reception he received was even icier than what he’d expected. There was no friendly banter or solicitous inquiries, just professional courtesy and a businesswoman’s smile.

“Nice to see you Kakashi.” She added no honorific to match the brusque tone. “How long has it been now, about five years?”

“About.”

“So,” she said, folding her hands on her desk, “what is it you want from me?”

“What makes you think I want something?” he replied, eyeing her critically. There was something different about her, about her demeanor, that he suspected had little to do with her merely growing older.

“You’re gone for years with no correspondence - at least not that I know of. And instead of heading to the pub to find out what was new in town or searching out one of our old friends to catch up with, you came straight to me - during office hours no less. Sorry that I’m less than convinced that’s all merely coincidental.”

“Couldn’t you be one of the old friends I want to catch up with?” he asked casually, feeling her out.

She leaned back in her chair and eyed him coolly from across the desk. “You were once my teacher, then my team leader - a leader I saw very little of during the wars, might I remind you - and then you were gone. We were one good enough terms for comrades but we were never friends.”

She sighed heavily, the movement of it seemed to reach inside her and pull something substantial out, leaving her drained. It was that tiredness, Kakashi realized, that made her seem so different, and with the way she wore it around herself like a cloak, he gathered it wasn’t simply the result of a week’s poor sleep.

“So tell me, Kakashi, what it is you want.”

“I need your help.”

She snorted, a mirthless little laugh that made him wonder who this stranger was. “Yes, I know that much,” she said in clipped tones that made him wonder how often she got such a request. “Care to be a little more specific?”

“The village I’ve settled in desperately needs medical help. They were decimated by the war and are now even further behind the times.” He didn’t bother to extrapolate any further. He could already see from the apathetic, shuttered look on her face that it would be nothing more than a waste of time.

“I see. And what do you offer that could induce me to consider your request?”

Kakashi’s mood soured. “How about the gratitude of all those whose lives would be saved? The thanks of an entire village and those surrounding that could learn from their advances?”

With an inelegant one-shoulder shrug she managed to give him the impression she was yawning at him. “That’s it?” she asked, his respect for her dipping lower than he’d ever thought possible.

“As I said, they were decimated by the war. Five years is enough to rebuild their homes but not an entire economy.”

As if she could sense his anger she looked more closely at him, something unfathomable flashing in her eyes.

“Listen, Kakashi. Many places were decimated by the war, this village included, and as of this moment we are the most medically advanced society around. I get requests almost daily for assistance from this town or that lord. Foreign emissaries are now a regular fixture around here. My skills are in high demand and, believe it or not, our economy is still struggling as well. We can’t afford for me to be prancing around from place to place, especially for free. Pro bono is all well and good but not for someone in my position.”

He realized then that it was all business to her; there was nothing personal about healing anymore.

“’We’?” he repeated. “When did you start speaking for a collective?”

“When my skills were finally represented by people who appreciated them.”

Kakashi stood abruptly, his chair squealing loudly against the floor. “I can see we’re done here.”

She gave him that strange, shuttered look again, the one he couldn’t decipher. “Did you expect you’d be a special case because of our mutual past?”

The slight sneer in her words was what clinched it for him. Despite his best attempts to suppress it, to reason out that something must’ve caused this change in her, he couldn’t hold back the disappointment and disgust that welled up at her cavalier attitude.

“No, of course not,” he said coolly, bowing his head in deference to her new status. “And yes, I’d say we are done here. I think I’ll take your lead and visit some of the local pubs and some old friends before leaving.”

Her shoulders tightened but he was beyond caring at that moment. He strode toward the door, only staying himself from flinging it open by sheer strength of will, when her voice called out to him again, making him pause on the threshold.

“You should visit the main receptionist downstairs. We have quite the collection of medical scrolls transcribed for sale now. With your experience I’m sure you’ll find them useful.”

He nodded briefly in acknowledgement and then he was gone.

~ ~ ~

Sakura watched him walk away with a mixture of resigned anger and bitter disappointment. She’d hoped that he, at least, would be different. Apparently he wasn’t.

~ ~ ~

Kakashi was determined, and when he was determined few things could stop him. He was going to figure out what had happened to Sakura, would make her face her own pride and stubbornness.

She valued herself so highly she couldn’t be bothered to stoop so low as to heal the teeming masses, just the powerful elite that seemed to have the pulse on what made her tick. Well, they’d just see about that. Besides, with how proud she’d been of her skills when she first learned, he wondered if she could truly be happy like this. Then again a person could change a lot in five years.

Plus, if he could figure out what had turned her so in the first place he might be able to get the help for his village after all.

So after ‘Kakashi’ left the main gate he returned as a peddler, small push-cart and all. His disguise was perfect. One of the most useful aspects of wearing a mask was that almost no one recognized him without it - least of all Sakura. He’d utilized it for many undercover missions where the Copy-nin might otherwise be recognized but he hadn’t expected to use it back home.

Now he wore the head wrap that was so typical of Wind and Bird Countries, conveniently covering his hair, then tied a piece of cloth across the top half of his face, hiding his eyes and the long scar that cut down his cheek. Fortunately the cloth was light enough to see through. He knew the village well enough that he’d be able to manoeuvre adequately blindly, but he didn’t relish the idea of crashing into any vendor’s stalls.

He staked himself in the forest on the outskirts of training ground seventeen. It had been Sakura’s favorite as long as he’d known her and, despite how she might’ve grown and changed, habit was hard to break. He chuckled to himself as his hand itched to reach for his nonexistent Icha Icha so he could go lounge in one of his favorite trees. If five years and plenty of distance couldn’t break his traditions then it would hold true for her as well.

Still, he didn’t know how long it would take before she finally showed up there, so he occupied his time trying to seem true to his disguise. He traipsed through the market a few times but only for short spurts, as he didn’t want to possibly miss his quarry. Mostly he worked on his pots - those things he was relying on to draw Sakura to him.

They were one of Bird Country’s specialties, these musical novelties. They reflected their surroundings, some playing traditional folk tunes, others with haunting melodies, yet still others that mimicked the calls of particular bird species. They were also created in all forms, from boxes to pots, rattles to birds, and most intriguing of all they functioned solely as their physical object; there was no musical mechanism of any kind in them. The music was bound to them somehow, in a way that was similar to chakra manipulation but not quite.

He’d only had the opportunity to learn how to create the simplest, most basic form possible. His sharingan had always been a tremendous asset to him, but copying jutsu was nothing compared to trying to pick up the intricacies of artistry. In jutsu, one shinobi’s tiger sign was the same as anyone else’s, so all he had to memorize was the sequence, the subtleties of the pattern and timing. When creating something, he could copy the hand movements of his teacher, but there was something about the pressure, the intrinsic feeling of the thing, that could never be mimicked, only learned.

He’d been curious enough to want to learn, but that had been far from his primary objective in the town so precious little of his time went to it. As such he was able to make pots for carrying water, storing items, all the daily little things that went along with such a mundane item - he was simply able to make it sing.

During his time in Konoha he’d never come across one before, something he was sure hadn’t changed given the effect the war had had on every place, country, and village, so he was counting on the newness of it to draw Sakura in. She might have closed off, but he’d hardly met anyone with such a curious streak, and he was sure she wouldn’t have been able to bury it entirely.

Plus, maybe he could sell a couple in the marketplace and have enough money to take some medical supplies back to Bird Country with him.

Even so, it was six days before she finally came. But as she approach her head swiveled to the left and the right, trying to locate the source of the music. When her gaze locked on the pot she made a beeline toward him - even if somewhat cautious and suspicious. Still, he knew from the look on her face that he had her caught.

~ ~ ~

Sakura walked up to the peddler with no little amount of reserve, interest and annoyance warring for dominance. Yes, her quiet break from the hectic pace of the lab was gone, as were her few brief moments of peaceful solitude, but rarely did she come across anything anymore that sparked her curiosity. She’d had entirely too many visitors for that. So when she’d walked close enough to see the source of the melody - a simple, unadorned pot - and that it was empty no less, her eyebrows shot to her hairline.

“What is that?” she asked suspiciously, pointing to the item. It wouldn’t be the first time anyone had tried to fool her either.

The peddler turned his head in her direction, allowing her to see the binding across his eyes for the first time, at which point she dropped her hand sheepishly. He just shrugged, a small, inscrutable smile playing on his lips. “What does it look like?”

She wondered if he asked just to be obnoxious or if he was both blind and stupid, thus unaware of just what, precisely, he sold. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had pushed a disabled family member out the door with instructions simply not to return until everything had been sold.

“Well, it looks like a musical pot.”

He beamed at her. “And that it is. I knew you were an intelligent woman from the moment I sensed you approach.”

She rolled her eyes at his empty, merchant’s flattery.

“But how is that possible? There’s no mechanism I can see. Is it built underneath?” she prodded, already picking it up to look.

“Be careful with that,” he said calmly. “You break it, you bought it.”

Sakura ran her hands over the piece, turning it every which way to examine it, and found nothing. “How…?”

“The music is fused into the pottery itself.”

“Really? Is it chakra based? How do you do it?”

“Trade secret, of course,” he told her with that enigmatic little smile of his. “Even if you know, though, it can take years to master. I admit I was a bit slow in learning but this is still the only item I can regularly make successfully.”

“You made this?” she gaped as he confirmed it, looking at him anew. She never would’ve suspected such talent lay under all those…well they weren’t really rags, but the overlapping mish-mash of textures tended toward that appearance. She supposed mostly that it was the contrast; Konoha residents tended to wear bright colors, as did the majority of the traveling merchants. She’d never given thought to whether that was their normal garb or if they simply changed their dress to fit the location.

So this man with his earth tones, messy head wrap, and especially the fraying cloth covering his eyes, seemed incongruous, almost as if he didn’t seek attention. She glanced back at the pot. With wares like those he wouldn’t really have to though.

“How much?”

“Oh, it’s not for sale.”

“What?!” she screeched. Had he told her about how special it was just to sucker her by pulling it out of her grasp? “But you’re a peddler, aren’t you? What’s the point of showing things you’re not willing to sell?”

“If you’ll recall, we’re not at market. Is it so inconceivable that I’d choose to enjoy my own creation during my lunch?”

True to his word, she glanced down and saw the remains of said lunch on the ground by his feet. That didn’t change things though; she still wanted it and she’d gotten used to getting her way the last couple years.

“What’ll it take to get you to sell it to me?” She could threaten him with banishment from the hidden village - it was a dire enough consequence for any merchant. She could do it too; she was the elders’ pet, after all. Still, she preferred to leave that - or other coercions - as a last resort. Many people were much more amenable when they thought they still had some control in the situation.

“I don’t sell, I barter.”

Her blood chilled and her face turned to stone. Of course that was what he wanted; it was what they all wanted. When would she just learn her lesson already and realize the elders were right - no one would ever want anything from her beyond medical services. Even they themselves weren’t any different.

“I take it you know who I am?” she said coldly.

“I recognize your voice from the marketplace - your chakra too. You didn’t bother to mask it.”

Hiding or disguising your chakra signature is the first thing most shinobi try to truly master. It blows the cover on a mission, especially any of the stealth or undercover varieties, if you’re outed because the wrong person recognizes your chakra. For that reason it’s also mandatory for anyone attempting to join ANBU to be beyond proficient in doing so. And in order to avid any slip ups out in the field, most shinobi make the habit of doing it constantly, even while in town or surrounded by friends.

From this, Kakashi was easily able to infer, “Don’t leave town much?”

Sakura balled her fists. “So let me guess - you’ll give me the pot in exchange for taking a look at your eyes,” she said, a dry brittleness dripping from every word.

He laughed. The man actually had the gall to laugh at her.

“Tell me,” she interjected, “does your pot still play when broken?”

“Depends on how large the pieces are. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, different sections of the song are stuck to different shards. Then you can even arrange them into a different order, though I don’t suggest it - the result is usually quite atrocious.”

He paused for a bit, watching her from behind his thin veil of fabric as she seethed, probably deciding whether or not to smash the bit of pottery.

“And no,” he stated finally, “I have no desire for you to look at my eyes.” That was true enough at least.

“It’s not all that bad, you know. My other senses have adjusted wonderfully and you’d be surprised how wonderful the world sounds when you’re not looking at it in expectation, or how good a fresh pomegranate can smell and taste when you’re not blinded by the same expectation.

“Though I must confess, if you were able to give my eyes back to me fully I might be tempted. What happened to them occurred years ago, though, and I’m given to understand timing is quite important in the world of healing.”

“Yes, it is,” she said dumbly. Her face was locked in an open expression of shock and awe, something he knew she would hide if she knew he could see her, but he found the confusion and vulnerability of it somewhat encouraging, even if somewhat disappointing at the same time. The Sakura he’d known would’ve been the one encouraging her patient with such words, not surprised when someone dared to be so optimistic.

“So, what do you want then?” she asked finally.

He swallowed hard. He couldn’t have just sold it to her, because then he’d just be another merchant. He had to make an impression on her. He’d thought long and hard about what to request of her instead, and the idea still sat slightly uncomfortably in his gut. But it was the only thing he could think of that would work feasibly in this situation.

“A kiss,” he stated baldly.

“What?” she demanded and, as he’d suspected, though there was some amusement in her voice it was easily drowned out by the disgust. He was a ‘stranger’, after all, and one she could see little of at that. “You want me to kiss you? You mean like a full kiss? On the lips?”

“Whatever do you mean? We just met!” he declared, acting thoroughly scandalized. “I meant a kiss on the cheek or something else of the sort, something innocuous. Really, women these days.”

Sakura glared.

“In fact, I think the price has just risen to ten kisses for daring to impugn my honor.”

She snorted. “You do realize what you said makes absolutely no logical sense, right?”

His lips twitched. “An old man is allowed his quirks.”

Suddenly she was studying him intently and he forced himself to stay calm, even while he wondered if she’d just managed to discern something about him through his disguise. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to throw his age.

“You don’t look all that old,” she stated finally. Only his neck, hands, and the bottom half of his face were visible, but conveniently enough the former two were the best indicators of age. The only thing that might be better would be seeing his eyes and how the skin around them creased, but somehow she doubted he was about to show her that.

He sighed a little. “The road has its ways of making us age before our time.”

“Yes,” she agreed softly, “it certainly does.”

They sat in contemplative silence a few moments, the mood soured, before Sakura visibly shook herself and broke the peace.

“So, the pot for ten kisses, is it?”

He was slightly surprised she didn’t call him on how he’d raised his ‘price’ but simply confirmed, “It’s a deal then?”

She nodded once then, remembering he couldn’t see, she sat herself down right in front of him. He forestalled her as she reached for him though.

“Just a minute. Don’t you even want to know the name of the man you’re about to kiss? Or is a lowly peddler too far beneath your notice for you to care?”

She inhaled sharply, not least of all because she hadn’t thought to ask him his name. With a curious mixture of defiance and chagrin - he was just a peddler after all, one she’d probably never see again to boot - she answered, “Yes, and no, respectively. Please, what is your name?”

“Yoshi.” He’d carefully chosen the name as it was common in almost al prefectures, but not so prevalent as to raise suspicion.

“Very well then, Yoshi,” she put special emphasis on the name, “your hands please?”

She looked at them, turning them over and examining them much the way she had his pot. She rubbed her thumb across one very prominent callus. “Looks like you’re a hard worker. Perhaps making music is harder than I originally thought. Well then, in appreciation for the things these hands are able to create…”

She brought his hands up to her lips and carefully kissed each fingertip. Kakashi’s heart lurched somewhat unexpectedly at the tenderness of the gesture. She placed his hands in his lap before releasing them, then grabbed her pot and stood.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said, gratified when she simply looked at him expectantly instead of leaving now that she had what she wanted. “Why were you so upset by the idea of bartering for your healing abilities?”

Cradling the pot she looked over her shoulder, back toward the hospital, and sighed lightly. “Break’s over. Ask me again next time.”

As she walked away Kakashi smiled to himself. His plan had worked; she would be back.

(Part 2)

(Part 3)