Caught You on the Flip Side ch.2 [PART 1]
Title: Caught You on the Flip Side
Chapter: 2 [PART 1]
Genre: Spiritual/General/Romance
Rating: T
Characters: Deidara, Ino
Summary: I knew you once, a long time ago. You were born in a nebula, and I was born in a star, and the spark of our union was enough to ignite a thousand Big Bangs. And though I don't remember you, I've never stopped searching. AU.
Note: Goddamn you LJ. I had to split this damn thing into two parts. Please enjoy. :D
Appeared Here to Vanish There
Ino had never been afraid of dreaming big.
Every opportunity was met with the expectation of leading to something great; every blessing and every lucky break was accompanied by a sense of entitlement; and every day that went by was thought of bringing her closer to some great life-changing event.
It had become a daily occupation to wonder what that first milestone would be.
Did the term only apply to events that literally changed a person? Did it only apply when Ms. became Mrs.? When a name gained an acronym like MD? When you had children?
Whatever it as, she was certain the word ‘milestone’ applied to any event that had a profound effect on one’s life, and it was this belief that one day led her to understand that the single greatest event to affect her life had occurred eleven years ago, when she’d only been in elementary school.
When Ino was twenty-one years old, she realized her first and greatest milestone occurred when she’d met her best friend.
At the age of ten, she was a more seasoned traveller than the majority of adults she knew. Her father’s job as a government official led them across the country and she had developed a fearlessly confident personality as a means of coping with constantly changing faces and atmospheres.
She found appreciation for nature and hard work after their two year stint on a farm, the rural setting imbuing her with cheerful readiness and the desire to help. Those qualities were nearly lost when they spent the following four years in a bustling metropolis. Suddenly there were ten times more people than she was used to and they all walked with their heads down; there were people she was taught to avoid, people who didn’t say ‘hi’ back and instead responded with suspicious wariness, and she coped with the emotional void by finding a sudden, newfound love for clothing and material goods.
Then again, this new juvenile sense of entitlement and arrogance found temperance when they moved from a condo in the middle of downtown to a two-bedroom apartment in a public housing project. Then suddenly it wasn’t safe to wear her diamond earrings or carry that designer purse, and she was forced to take a bitter dose of humility that left her oscillating somewhere between the friendly farm girl, metropolitan fashionista and ghetto youth.
Then came their final move, a year later, to a nice little bungalow on the dividing line between the city and suburbs.
Her father had secured a more steady position and her mother was considering starting a flower shop, and Ino’s new school was only three blocks away.
This time, hopefully, they could stay put.
They settled into their new home in the middle of July and Ino spent the remainder of the summer holidays watching television when she wasn’t at swim practice or helping her mother renovate the new property for their fledgling flower shop.
By this time she was ten years old and had never felt the lack of a friend. She was amiable by nature and got along with everyone, making enough acquaintances to help her get through the one or two years they spent at each location. But unlike the farm or the city, this place felt quiet and boring without someone to occupy time with, and the television didn’t help matters, either.
In retrospect, she could say that much like the women who gained all their expectations about romance and marriage from movies and novels, she’d developed expectations about friendship from television. Besides the occasional prepubescent romance, the majority of teenybopper programming revolved around themes of lifelong camaraderie, meeting your other half, remaining steadfastly loyal, defending friends from harm, and the enrichment of life in general due to finding a best friend.
She became enraptured with the idea of exchanging sacred tokens with someone special like that, something like a locket or a ring or a bracelet, anything that would symbolize the depth of their love and support for one another. And because she was Ino and Ino always got what she wanted, she decided she’d scout out her best friend the very first day she started school.
The wait had been torturous, but September finally came and she waved her mother goodbye at the school gates when the bell rang. Her new teacher, Iruka-sensei, made an immediate impression as an endearing, bumbling sort of man who was kind to a fault. The kids instantly took advantage of his lenient disposition and the class rang with talk and laughter even as they did their work.
In the midst of the clamour, Ino raised her head every so often from her worksheet to scan the classroom for potential candidates. There was one dark-haired girl who seemed promising; the way she cowered and blushed immediately struck Ino with the urge to swoop in and save her, but then her shyness seemed to be a chronic condition and Ino couldn’t see herself lasting with someone that demure.
There were a few other girls, but none made much of an impression within the classroom, and though Ino had resolved not to befriend any of the painfully immature boys, she found her gaze returning repeatedly to the dark-haired boy sitting next to the window at the rear. The more she looked at him, the more she couldn’t look away, and she grew disconcerted with the way her face flushed when he glanced up and caught her staring at him.
Abashed, she ducked her head and didn’t look up again till recess.
The students who knew each other from past grades ran out together and commandeered the playground fixtures in groups, most of the boys taking the basketball court while the girls overtook the swings and hopscotch squares. The rest wandered the yard in pairs or groups of threes or fours, and a few new students like Ino milled around by themselves, hoping for an invitation from the others.
Despite herself, Ino initially couldn’t help but look for the dark-haired boy from her class. She found him walking up the track by himself, followed closely by some of the boys in her class. He seemed disinterested until one of them, a loudmouthed blonde, pointed his finger at him and challenged him to a race.
She settled down at the edge of a sandbox and watched them for the rest of recess, fixated on the dark-haired boy as he easily outran the blonde and anyone else who challenged him. He wasn’t prone to smiling, but when a triumphant smirk crossed his features each time he won, Ino found her heart giving a hard thump.
She was distracted from the races ten minutes later when she heard shrill laughter coming from her left. Ino raised her head, glancing over to the water fountain.
Three girls stood before a fourth, the latter outnumbered and clearly distressed. Though she couldn’t see her face from where she sat, Ino could tell she was close to tears simply from looking at the way her shoulders were hunched and her hands were clasped defensively in front of her.
Without thinking, she stood up and made her way over to them, straying close enough to hear some of the taunts the girls were throwing at her.
Honestly, making fun of someone’s forehead? How lame.
“Hey,” she said loudly once she came to stand behind them. “Quit blocking the fountain. Some of us are thirsty, you know.”
The group turned to look at her, eyes narrowing into suspicious looks. The victim, a pink-haired shrimp, took a step back but couldn’t bring herself to run away. Ino resisted rolling her eyes and put her hands on her hips.
“Thank you,” she said sardonically, shouldering past them and to the fountain. She took her time running the water but didn’t drink any of it, instead listening to the girls to see if they’d continue the bullying.
When no sound was forthcoming, she stepped away from the fountain and regarded them coolly.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” the middle one answered, narrowing her eyes. “Get lost. We’re busy.”
“You first,” Ino replied, returning her hands to her hips. “I’m allergic to losers like you. I mean come on, three against one? That’s just pathetic.”
The girls looked visibly started by this and looked towards their leader who mouthed wordlessly for a few moments before glaring.
“What’s your problem? You don’t even know her.”
“So?”
“So it’s none of your business!”
“I’m making it my business. What are you gonna do about it?”
The girl said nothing but balled her fists. Ino took a step towards them, allowing the pink-haired girl to hide behind her.
“What were you gonna do next, anyway?” Ino asked disdainfully. “Steal her lunch money? Better get to it, then. You’re gonna need a lot to afford plastic surgery on that ugly mug of yours.”
Looks were obviously a sensitive spot for the middle girl, for her face coloured in humiliation and she instantly retreated, her two friends following close behind. Unrepentant, Ino spared them a look of contempt and turned to look at the girl behind her.
“Are you okay?”
The girl stared at her with something akin to awe before slowly nodding. Her tears were already drying against her cheeks.
“What’s your name?” Ino asked.
“Sakura,” the girl replied hesitantly.
Ino considered her, eyeing her head to toe.
Well, she was slightly better in terms of confidence than the dark-haired girl from their class. Kinda weepy, but that could easily be remedied with some tough love. Seemed to have a lot of potential, wouldn’t cramp her style, sounded nice enough...
The girl shuffled her feet awkwardly before giving her a shy smile. “What’s yours?”
Ino wavered only a moment before grinning back. “It’s Ino. Wanna be friends?”
**********
It lasted seven months, and though it was only seven months, Ino could say with easy conviction that she’d met her soul mate. They were like fitting puzzle pieces, compatible in every way, with Sakura’s reserve tempering Ino’s outgoingness and vice versa. They never slept on sleepovers, giggling all night and never running out of things to say when their parents went to bed. They shared lunches. They played together. They defended each other. They comforted each other. And Ino grew proud watching Sakura blossom from someone shy and subdued into an intelligent and assertive girl.
After much contemplation, Ino decided to forgo the use of a bracelet, ring, or locket and instead presented Sakura with a pretty red bow, the one she’d use up until the last weeks of school and when it all fell apart.
No one had to tell her that Sakura also liked the dark-haired boy, Sasuke. Every girl (except maybe Hinata) had a crush on the Uchiha, a fact Ino hadn’t made public about herself save to some other girls when they’d been discussing him. As for Sakura, her infatuation was obvious whenever Sasuke was around her. When he was chosen to hand back graded assignments, her fingernails would curve over the edge of her desk till her knuckles turned white and her chest would still as she ceased to breathe, relishing the moment he spared her a look and dropped her work onto her desk.
Ino observed this and said nothing, unconcerned and content with the belief that nothing, including having a crush on the same boy, could possibly affect their relationship. It was for that reason she never bothered telling Sakura about liking him in the first place, reassuring herself that it would make no difference when in reality an unsettling, cold feeling began lingering in the pit of her stomach as the school year neared an end.
The feeling only worsened when Sakura suddenly started finding excuses to avoid walking home with her, or when her smiles became strained and no longer reached her eyes. Ino continued to ignore her unease, denying it like the terminally ill would their worsening symptoms, as if pretending it wasn’t there would simply make the problem go away.
Ignoring the foreboding feelings no longer became an option one day late in June, when a crumpled note landed on the surface of her desk and rolled onto her schoolwork. Her toes curled within her shoes and her stomach dropped when she unfolded it.
I have to talk to you after school.
After that, she couldn’t remember how the rest of the day had transpired. The rest of the lesson faded into a dull blare in the background as she stared at the board and repeatedly assured herself:
She won’t do this to me. She wouldn’t do this to me. She can’t do this to me.
The bell rang and she automatically gathered her things and headed for the main gate where Sakura usually met up with her after classes.
Surely enough, Sakura was standing there. She was holding the red ribbon in her right hand.
The sight of it and her grim expression was all Ino needed to see. It was like being stabbed in the gut.
Her face must have paled, for Sakura’s expression flickered and for a moment Ino thought she could see regret in those wide green eyes. But then her pride forcefully contorted her features into a sneer even though it felt like she was being rent on the inside. She couldn’t remember what she’d said-probably some bluff about how she’d beat her at her own game or something to that effect. The only thing she could remember afterwards was heading home and finding herself with the red bow clenched in her hand. Her throat was throbbing painfully and it wouldn’t stop, and though she knew the pain would relent if she gave into it and let herself cry, she endured it to the end of the day, refusing to let the tears fall.
What had happened to the idea of being friends forever? She believed it in her heart of hearts to be true and the dissolution of their relationship had left her shaken to her core. How could it be a lie? And if it was a lie, why would the world give her the impression of it being true in the first place?
It hurt to the extent of making her feel sick and she vehemently vowed to never forgive Sakura, viewing her betrayal as a transgression of the highest degree and seething the summer away with the resolution to never attempt making friends again.
It wasn’t a hollow promise, and she stuck to it when the next school year started, even though her new reserved demeanour opened her up to gossip without the fear of reprisal and the rumours ran wild. Suddenly she was the one responsible for their friendship ending. Suddenly she was being accused of trying to steal Sasuke away when it was clear to the entire school that Sakura was in love with him.
Ino bore it with her head held high and a stony expression, even though she crumbled a little inside each time she caught Sakura’s eye on the playground and her heartache overwhelmed her anger.
Then, two months after school started, something happened that made Asuma-sensei disappear for a few days, and they had some tired old substitute sit in for him while they ran amok of the classroom. A week later, the principal walked in and informed them Asuma-sensei would not be returning. Before they could ask any further questions, he introduced their new teacher.
The man, who had been standing silently behind the principal the entire time, stepped forward and raised his hand in a wave.
“Yo.”
The kids stared at him. A few giggled at the off-colour greeting and the rest looked at the principal sceptically.
The principal cleared his throat. “His name is Hatake Kakashi and I expect each and every one of you to treat him with the same respect as you did Asuma-sensei. Do I make myself clear?”
A sonorous “yes” echoed throughout the classroom. Satisfied, the principal murmured a few words to their new teacher in private before patting him on the back and leaving the room.
Kakashi stood in front of the silent class for a moment longer before turning to his desk and setting his briefcase down. They watched warily, trying to gauge whether his laidback demeanour was just a front for a tough disciplinarian. He took his time removing his coat and gloves but didn’t unravel the scarf that covered most of his lower face. He turned towards them and sat on the corner of his desk, surveying them through half-lidded eyes.
No one moved or spoke, recognizing him as the type of teacher who commanded respect and silence without having to ask for it.
“Well then,” he said at last, reaching up to scratch his unruly head. “Which one of you feels like taking a trip to the staff room?”
Silence.
Then a hand rose slowly in the back.
He inclined his head towards it and gestured for the volunteer to stand.
“What’s your name?”
“Ino,” she said promptly.
He rubbed his forehead. “You mind getting me a coffee?”
Ino blinked and nodded and he gestured for her to go ahead.
Then he grabbed the attendance chart off the desk and marked a check next to her name as she hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. She paused outside the class for a moment, listening as he began rattling off names for attendance.
She took a breath and released it slowly in relief, taking her time ambling down the halls and taking the longest route possible to get to the staff room. The longer she could stay out of class, the better.
The halls were empty and they echoed faintly with the voices of teachers muffled behind closed doors. She hurried past the main office and made her way to the staff room, finding it empty. There was a coffee dispenser in the back, along with a stack of paper cups. Again, she took her time, filling the coffee slowly and gazing around the room.
Her eyes stilled on the box of pastries someone had left open on a coffee table. The teacher had seemed a mite peckish to her, and he seemed to be a no-nonsense, non-favouritism type of guy who wouldn’t tolerate any future misbehaviour from the students the way Asuma had. Perhaps if she made a good first impression, he’d grant her permission to do what she’d been bothering Asuma-sensei for since the beginning of the year. Suddenly hopeful, she decided she’d grab a donut for him, too.
By the time she returned to the classroom, the students were sitting hunched over worksheets of multiplication tables while their new teacher wrote some problems up on the blackboard. Ino wordlessly deposited the coffee and donut on his desk and returned to her seat.
By the time the morning recess bell rang, they’d been working on multiplication problems for a straight hour in absolute silence. They looked expectantly over at Kakashi, who didn’t even look up from his book as he waved them away with one hand. The class dispersed and filtered out of the room, breaking into loud voices and laughter in the hall. Eventually the voices faded outside and the classroom was silent, the only sounds emanating from the soft rustle of Kakashi turning the pages of his book.
Then he heard a chair scrape over the tiles and lifted his head to see Ino still sitting at her desk, looking idly out the window.
He blinked before leaning forward to look at his chart of seating arrangements and find her name. “Did you need something…er, Ino?”
“Can I spend recess indoors?” she asked without looking away from the window.
His brow wrinkled slightly. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I won’t bother you,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ll just sit here and read.”
Kakashi tapped a finger against the edge of his book and considered her. It was obvious she didn’t want to discuss it, and for such a young kid, she was impressively skilled at the art of inscrutability. But she was not so skilled that she could conceal the slight waver in her voice and the way she swallowed hard each time before answering.
Eventually, Kakashi set down his book and sighed. Handling social issues was not his forte and he was as qualified for dealing with self-esteem problems as he was performing brain surgery. Uncomfortable with the entire situation, he considered calling in one of the female teachers to deal with her, but then realized he couldn’t leave her alone in the room.
After a while of weighing the pros and cons, he gave up and slumped back in his seat.
“Why don’t you want to go outside?”
She shrugged. “I don’t get along with the other girls.”
“What about the boys?”
“They’re too dumb and immature for me.”
Well, he couldn’t argue that point.
He thought a moment before trying a different tactic. “You need your fresh air and exercise. You should try making up with your friends.”
“When girls fight,” she said slowly and empathically, turning a page in her book, “they never make up.”
Kakashi rubbed his chin. He couldn’t deny that to be true, either.
Typically when boys fought, they punched each other a few times to vent whatever anger and aggression they held toward each other. Then once they’d exhausted themselves and felt satisfied with their respective injuries, they generally forgave and forgot.
And more often than not, girls avoided violence and fought covertly, with vicious tongues and cold shoulders, enabling enough misinterpretations and resentment to ensure a lifetime of enmity.
He really wasn’t qualified to deal with this, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Maybe we can work this out,” he said. “How about you tell me what happened?”
She didn’t reply.
Assuming she needed some time to form an explanation, he leaned back in his chair and waited. But when she remained silent and continued to stare at the same spot in her book, a concerned look crossed his face.
“Ino?”
There was a long silence.
Then she slowly set her book down.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said at last, voice cracking.
Kakashi stared at her, dismayed when her lower lip drew inward to contain the impending sob and tears streaked down her face. After a minute, he sighed and forced himself to get up and go over to her, grabbing the tissue box off his desk along the way.
He had to give her credit for trying to suck it up and save face in front of him, but whatever was hurting her had to have been hurting bad for her to continuously fail and dissolve into muffled weeping. Wordlessly, he sat down next to her and slid the box across her desk, sparing her dignity by looking away when she snatched the tissues and mopped her face.
“It’s okay,” he said after she’d managed to compose herself. “You can stay if you want. I won’t push you anymore.”
Her hands were visibly trembling and she entwined her fingers to still them. “I’m sorry...”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. If anyone asks, I’ll make something up.” He floundered for a moment, trying to think of something that would cheer her up. “I’ll tell them you’re allergic to the sun.”
It was a lame attempt, but she made a muffled noise that might’ve been laughter.
“Sure, people will think you’re a vampire-”
She emitted another watery giggle.
“-but I suppose it’s a sacrifice you’re going to have to make.”
She nodded, smiling through tears even though her chest still hurt, but the feeling ebbed a little when he reached out and patted her comfortingly on top of her head.
“You’ll be okay.”
She nodded again, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the face. He seemed to sense this and circled back to his desk. A few minutes later, the bell rang.
As the children filtered back into the class and Kakashi rose from his chair to begin the next set of lessons, Ino spared him a grateful look and hid her face in her book till the end of the day.
**********
Ino had fervently prayed that night that he wouldn’t change his mind about letting her stay indoors the following day. After all, teachers tended to be dismissive of the social conflicts of children and, more often than not, would let their initial compassion dwindle into apathy.
So when the recess bell rang the next morning, Ino remained at her desk and didn’t dare look up lest he catch her eye and change his mind. The classroom emptied and fell silent, and after a little while she heard a soft thump and turned her head to look at him.
Kakashi had propped his feet on his desk and folded one arm behind his head. He was looking out the window.
Ino chewed on her bottom lip and tried to go back to her reading, but when she found herself rereading the same page over and over again, she set the book down and looked at him again. Her voice started him out of his reverie.
“I really didn’t do anything,” she mumbled.
He stared at her, uncomprehending. Then it dawned on him and his gaze turned thoughtful.
“I don’t doubt that,” he said after a while, shrugging. “Some kids are just jerks.”
Ino blinked in surprise.
“It gets better once you get to college,” he continued, looking idly out the window again. “But then again…you’ll meet jerks in every setting. It’s just one of those facts of life.”
There was something strange and unfamiliar about the way he was speaking to her, and it confused her until she realized, with a wave of awe and uncertainty, that he was speaking to her the way adults spoke to each other.
When she didn’t say anything, he sighed and scratched his head. “I’m not a very good counsellor, am I?”
Ino couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating tone. “It’s okay…” She followed his gaze out the window, the smile gradually fading. “Because I’m never trying to make friends again.”
Kakashi spared her a mildly surprised look. “That’s a pretty heavy decision for an eleven-year-old.”
She fixed him with a defiant look. “It’s not my fault.”
She half-expected him to lecture her about forgiveness and saying things she didn’t mean, but he merely sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you can’t be blamed.”
He looked out the window again. “I was a pretty lousy friend, too.”
She looked at him curiously. He didn’t elaborate and she felt it prudent to keep quiet, especially when she took in the pensiveness that crept into his features. Returning to her book, she forced herself to continue reading until the bell rang again.
**********
The next two weeks passed in the same fashion, the two comfortably tolerating each other in the room while she read and he graded homework. But the monotonous routine was beginning to wear on her and Ino grew restless, hungry for conversation and like-mindedness.
She would disparage herself furiously whenever she found her mind returning to Sakura and she refused to say anything to her teacher about it, knowing he’d probably respond with something along the lines of ‘I told you so.’ But he was far more perceptive than she gave him credit for and he called her out on it when she put her book down to gaze yearningly out the window at the other kids.
“I had to learn some stuff about child psychology before becoming a teacher,” he said offhandedly, not even looking up from his book. “There was a section this big...”
He raised a hand and held his thumb and index finger two inches apart. “...about how important it is for a child to socialize and make friends.”
Ino glared half-heartedly at him. “I’m not a child. And I don’t need friends.”
“Everyone needs friends.”
Her tone became petulant. “Then why don’t you be my friend?”
“Ah, I would, Ino, but sensei would get funny looks from the department of education.”
She sighed and looked out the window again. “This sucks.”
He hummed in agreement.
“Was there anyone else who stayed indoors for recess at your old school?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I taught at a different kind of school before this one. There were no recesses.”
Ino gave him a funny look. “What kind of a school is that?”
She could tell he was smiling, even behind his scarf. “A special school.”
She felt he was being deliberately vague and gave him a sceptical look. He laughed lightly and rubbed the back of his neck, finally setting his book down on the desk. After a moment’s consideration, he gestured for her to take a seat on the desk closest to him.
“Bear with me,” he said as she moved to the seat and looked at him curiously. “I’m going to step up on my soapbox for a minute.”
He folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the desk, eyes trailing thoughtfully over the stack of graded tests.
“I’m not going to sugar coat the truth. I’m sure you can tell by now but I’m not very good at solving these sorts of...problems. So I’m going to go ahead and tell you what I do know.”
He took a deep breath.
“The truth is that you’ll meet lots of friends in your lifetime. Some you’ll only know for a few days, some a few years. There’ll be a couple who hurt you. There’ll be a couple you might end up hating. Most of them will forget you, but if you’re lucky, you’ll meet one or two who’ll remember your name even years after you drift apart.”
Ino stared at him, flummoxed and a little horrified as he calmly and casually demolished her idealistic model of friendship and negated everything the TV or preteen novels had ever taught her. He seemed to anticipate her reaction and regarded her calmly before continuing.
“Knowing this, you have two choices. You either stay indoors and avoid everyone so you don’t get hurt again, or you risk it and give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’ll get hurt again, maybe you won’t. And if it works out, you might get one or two good friends along the way. If you’re one in a lucky million, you’ll find a friend who’d even give his life for you.”
He paused. “But you have to be brave for that. It’s not easy, finding real friends, and sometimes you have to suffer disappointment before you do find them.”
Ino mouthed wordlessly at him before finding her voice, the words coming out stilted. “But that’s not fair. I was...nice to her. I never hurt her feelings. I never did anything wrong.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes it works out that way. You just have to move on.”
Ino curled her fingers into trembling fists. “She really hurt me.”
He was silent for a moment and studied the surface of his desk. “You won’t realize it now, but when you’re older, you’ll learn that the fear of getting hurt is what keeps people so far apart. Even two people who have the potential to become friends never do because they’re afraid. And not just of getting hurt. They’re scared of feeling stupid. Of distraction. Of failure.”
He smiled at her. “It’s why you’re lucky to be a kid while it lasts. Kids don’t worry about that sort of stuff.”
Ino looked torn between bitter resentment and a desperate want to believe him, and after a moment of struggling with herself, lowered her head in acceptance.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Be yourself,” he said simply. “And never be afraid to show how you really feel.”
He was silent for several seconds and though he was staring at the graded stack of tests, his eyes eventually lost their focus and his voice grew quiet. “You might regret it for the rest of your life.”
She watched him, recognizing his expression to be the same pensive one she’d seen the last time he’d talked to her. It was subduing enough to stem her hurt and anger at his nonchalance and she took the time to calm down and consider what he’d said.
“So...” she began unsurely. “I should tell people exactly what’s on my mind?”
“Depends,” he replied. “If it’s a good thing, never hold back.”
“...can I tell you something, then?”
He looked up.
“I think you’re weird,” she stated. Then her lips turned up in a small smile. “But I think you’re really cool, too.”
He blinked at her before chuckling and reaching out to ruffle her hair.
They fell into a comfortable silence once more. Ino studied him, wondering what had him so lost in thought.
“Sensei,” she ventured, looking up at him imploringly. “You know how you said...if you’re lucky, you might meet a friend who’d give their life for you?”
“Mm.”
“Do you have a friend like that?”
The wistful look faded from his eyes and he nodded. “Yes. I did.”
She bit her lip. “Will I ever meet anyone like that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling a little at her crestfallen expression. “Maybe, maybe not. But think of it this way-there are six billion people on earth, and at least one of them should be a perfect match.”
Ino’s eyes widened. “Like...a soul mate?”
He tapped his chin. “Oh, I don’t know about that, but considering the finite range of personalities and the huge base population, you could say it’s a possibility. Logistically speaking, of course.”
Ino made a face at him. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
“Sorry,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m getting old, you know. Forgot I was talking to a nine-year-old.”
“I’m eleven!” she exclaimed.
“What? Really?”
“Kakashi-sensei!”
“Sorry, sorry-”
He was trying to make her laugh and it was working, and though she was still full of hurt and anger at Sakura and confused over the slew of contradicting and sobering information he’d given her, it gave her a sense of relief to know she’d been wrong.
The possibility of finding true friends, though much smaller than she’d anticipated, was still real. It would simply take some time and effort.
“So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “If anyone asks, what should I tell them about this whole indoor recess thing?”
Ino hesitated.
“Tell them...” She looked out the window at her playing classmates.
Slowly, a small, determined smile crossed her face. “Tell them I’m not allergic to the sun anymore.”
**********
Looking back on the experience years later and coming to learn subsequent facts about her teacher, Ino came to realize just how difficult it must have been for Kakashi to make the transition from military school to an elementary school. And not just difficult, but painful to have had to make lessons out of his own mistakes for a child who had no concept of real problems.
Now that she thought about it, his patience with her petulance had been remarkable. He talked to her like an adult because he didn’t know how to talk to children, and that was a fact he’d done nothing to conceal and something she was grateful for.
There were several things he’d done right and several he’d done wrong, as was to be expected from a man who had no place in an elementary school and didn’t know how to deal with prepubescent girls. She still wasn’t sure if his obvious regret and habit of reminiscing over his nameless friend had been an appropriate thing to do in front of her, simply because of the way it had enthralled her at the time. She often found herself wondering if people would remember her the same way if she, too, were to die. It was a romantic, selfish and morbid thought, but it became a coping mechanism each time she foresaw a relationship not working out and each time she felt the disappointment and self-disparagement.
Your first best friend was like your first love, she supposed, and it was for that reason she never did fully overcome her reservation to commitment. She was both brave and afraid, being the first to assimilate into groups of friends and being the first to leave before the newfound friendship had a chance to spoil.
It was a hollow way to live, but she coped by assuring herself she’d stick in their minds because she was beautiful and confident and charming, and that one day she would get what she deserved because she was Ino and Ino always got what she wanted. Like Kakashi-sensei had said, out of the six billion people on earth, she would inevitably meet the one who’d be her perfect match.
And if life was right and fair, he would be tall, dark-haired, and have fine, aristocratic features. His bangs would fall into his eyes a certain way, he would talk a certain way and walk a certain way. They’d meet unexpectedly and recognize each other as their missing halves. They would marry and have children and grow old together. They would die together.
It was a ridiculous pipe dream, but if she was fated to be one of the few brave souls taking the fall in the effort to connect with people, it was only fair. Life owed her that much.
Though it wouldn’t be all bad. She could remember making a few memorable, fleeting connections, recalling the widowed old lady at the Laundromat, the only child in the family living next door, and the world-weary blonde she’d met last year in that nightclub.
At the thought of him, Ino blinked open her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling.
The room was dark and the contours of her furniture gleamed faintly in the night light. The window was open and she listened to the sounds of cars crunching over gravel in the distance, her head turning against her pillow to look out into the dark.
Vague snatches of their conversation floated into memory and she smiled faintly.
He’d been tired, standoffish, and gloomy. And yet...
She hugged her pillow to her chest.
Something that reminded her of herself-something fervid, bright and disarmingly familiar had burned in his eyes like the flame of a candle about to go out, and she’d found herself drawn to it without any real explanation. When their walk had ended, she had been unnervingly sad to see him go and found it imperative to say exactly what she’d felt in that moment.
I really like you.
And because she didn’t want to leave-
Can I take you home with me?
Ino closed her eyes at the memory of his surprised face and smiled ruefully.
Despite the ridiculousness of the question, she wished he would have agreed, not so much for her sake as his.
When she’d walked away from him, leaving him standing there in the dark, he’d looked as though he’d wanted nothing more than to take her up on the offer and leave his world behind.
************
[PART 2] here.
Previous chapters:
Caught You on the Flip Side ch.1
Chapter: 2 [PART 1]
Genre: Spiritual/General/Romance
Rating: T
Characters: Deidara, Ino
Summary: I knew you once, a long time ago. You were born in a nebula, and I was born in a star, and the spark of our union was enough to ignite a thousand Big Bangs. And though I don't remember you, I've never stopped searching. AU.
Note: Goddamn you LJ. I had to split this damn thing into two parts. Please enjoy. :D
Appeared Here to Vanish There
Ino had never been afraid of dreaming big.
Every opportunity was met with the expectation of leading to something great; every blessing and every lucky break was accompanied by a sense of entitlement; and every day that went by was thought of bringing her closer to some great life-changing event.
It had become a daily occupation to wonder what that first milestone would be.
Did the term only apply to events that literally changed a person? Did it only apply when Ms. became Mrs.? When a name gained an acronym like MD? When you had children?
Whatever it as, she was certain the word ‘milestone’ applied to any event that had a profound effect on one’s life, and it was this belief that one day led her to understand that the single greatest event to affect her life had occurred eleven years ago, when she’d only been in elementary school.
When Ino was twenty-one years old, she realized her first and greatest milestone occurred when she’d met her best friend.
At the age of ten, she was a more seasoned traveller than the majority of adults she knew. Her father’s job as a government official led them across the country and she had developed a fearlessly confident personality as a means of coping with constantly changing faces and atmospheres.
She found appreciation for nature and hard work after their two year stint on a farm, the rural setting imbuing her with cheerful readiness and the desire to help. Those qualities were nearly lost when they spent the following four years in a bustling metropolis. Suddenly there were ten times more people than she was used to and they all walked with their heads down; there were people she was taught to avoid, people who didn’t say ‘hi’ back and instead responded with suspicious wariness, and she coped with the emotional void by finding a sudden, newfound love for clothing and material goods.
Then again, this new juvenile sense of entitlement and arrogance found temperance when they moved from a condo in the middle of downtown to a two-bedroom apartment in a public housing project. Then suddenly it wasn’t safe to wear her diamond earrings or carry that designer purse, and she was forced to take a bitter dose of humility that left her oscillating somewhere between the friendly farm girl, metropolitan fashionista and ghetto youth.
Then came their final move, a year later, to a nice little bungalow on the dividing line between the city and suburbs.
Her father had secured a more steady position and her mother was considering starting a flower shop, and Ino’s new school was only three blocks away.
This time, hopefully, they could stay put.
They settled into their new home in the middle of July and Ino spent the remainder of the summer holidays watching television when she wasn’t at swim practice or helping her mother renovate the new property for their fledgling flower shop.
By this time she was ten years old and had never felt the lack of a friend. She was amiable by nature and got along with everyone, making enough acquaintances to help her get through the one or two years they spent at each location. But unlike the farm or the city, this place felt quiet and boring without someone to occupy time with, and the television didn’t help matters, either.
In retrospect, she could say that much like the women who gained all their expectations about romance and marriage from movies and novels, she’d developed expectations about friendship from television. Besides the occasional prepubescent romance, the majority of teenybopper programming revolved around themes of lifelong camaraderie, meeting your other half, remaining steadfastly loyal, defending friends from harm, and the enrichment of life in general due to finding a best friend.
She became enraptured with the idea of exchanging sacred tokens with someone special like that, something like a locket or a ring or a bracelet, anything that would symbolize the depth of their love and support for one another. And because she was Ino and Ino always got what she wanted, she decided she’d scout out her best friend the very first day she started school.
The wait had been torturous, but September finally came and she waved her mother goodbye at the school gates when the bell rang. Her new teacher, Iruka-sensei, made an immediate impression as an endearing, bumbling sort of man who was kind to a fault. The kids instantly took advantage of his lenient disposition and the class rang with talk and laughter even as they did their work.
In the midst of the clamour, Ino raised her head every so often from her worksheet to scan the classroom for potential candidates. There was one dark-haired girl who seemed promising; the way she cowered and blushed immediately struck Ino with the urge to swoop in and save her, but then her shyness seemed to be a chronic condition and Ino couldn’t see herself lasting with someone that demure.
There were a few other girls, but none made much of an impression within the classroom, and though Ino had resolved not to befriend any of the painfully immature boys, she found her gaze returning repeatedly to the dark-haired boy sitting next to the window at the rear. The more she looked at him, the more she couldn’t look away, and she grew disconcerted with the way her face flushed when he glanced up and caught her staring at him.
Abashed, she ducked her head and didn’t look up again till recess.
The students who knew each other from past grades ran out together and commandeered the playground fixtures in groups, most of the boys taking the basketball court while the girls overtook the swings and hopscotch squares. The rest wandered the yard in pairs or groups of threes or fours, and a few new students like Ino milled around by themselves, hoping for an invitation from the others.
Despite herself, Ino initially couldn’t help but look for the dark-haired boy from her class. She found him walking up the track by himself, followed closely by some of the boys in her class. He seemed disinterested until one of them, a loudmouthed blonde, pointed his finger at him and challenged him to a race.
She settled down at the edge of a sandbox and watched them for the rest of recess, fixated on the dark-haired boy as he easily outran the blonde and anyone else who challenged him. He wasn’t prone to smiling, but when a triumphant smirk crossed his features each time he won, Ino found her heart giving a hard thump.
She was distracted from the races ten minutes later when she heard shrill laughter coming from her left. Ino raised her head, glancing over to the water fountain.
Three girls stood before a fourth, the latter outnumbered and clearly distressed. Though she couldn’t see her face from where she sat, Ino could tell she was close to tears simply from looking at the way her shoulders were hunched and her hands were clasped defensively in front of her.
Without thinking, she stood up and made her way over to them, straying close enough to hear some of the taunts the girls were throwing at her.
Honestly, making fun of someone’s forehead? How lame.
“Hey,” she said loudly once she came to stand behind them. “Quit blocking the fountain. Some of us are thirsty, you know.”
The group turned to look at her, eyes narrowing into suspicious looks. The victim, a pink-haired shrimp, took a step back but couldn’t bring herself to run away. Ino resisted rolling her eyes and put her hands on her hips.
“Thank you,” she said sardonically, shouldering past them and to the fountain. She took her time running the water but didn’t drink any of it, instead listening to the girls to see if they’d continue the bullying.
When no sound was forthcoming, she stepped away from the fountain and regarded them coolly.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” the middle one answered, narrowing her eyes. “Get lost. We’re busy.”
“You first,” Ino replied, returning her hands to her hips. “I’m allergic to losers like you. I mean come on, three against one? That’s just pathetic.”
The girls looked visibly started by this and looked towards their leader who mouthed wordlessly for a few moments before glaring.
“What’s your problem? You don’t even know her.”
“So?”
“So it’s none of your business!”
“I’m making it my business. What are you gonna do about it?”
The girl said nothing but balled her fists. Ino took a step towards them, allowing the pink-haired girl to hide behind her.
“What were you gonna do next, anyway?” Ino asked disdainfully. “Steal her lunch money? Better get to it, then. You’re gonna need a lot to afford plastic surgery on that ugly mug of yours.”
Looks were obviously a sensitive spot for the middle girl, for her face coloured in humiliation and she instantly retreated, her two friends following close behind. Unrepentant, Ino spared them a look of contempt and turned to look at the girl behind her.
“Are you okay?”
The girl stared at her with something akin to awe before slowly nodding. Her tears were already drying against her cheeks.
“What’s your name?” Ino asked.
“Sakura,” the girl replied hesitantly.
Ino considered her, eyeing her head to toe.
Well, she was slightly better in terms of confidence than the dark-haired girl from their class. Kinda weepy, but that could easily be remedied with some tough love. Seemed to have a lot of potential, wouldn’t cramp her style, sounded nice enough...
The girl shuffled her feet awkwardly before giving her a shy smile. “What’s yours?”
Ino wavered only a moment before grinning back. “It’s Ino. Wanna be friends?”
**********
It lasted seven months, and though it was only seven months, Ino could say with easy conviction that she’d met her soul mate. They were like fitting puzzle pieces, compatible in every way, with Sakura’s reserve tempering Ino’s outgoingness and vice versa. They never slept on sleepovers, giggling all night and never running out of things to say when their parents went to bed. They shared lunches. They played together. They defended each other. They comforted each other. And Ino grew proud watching Sakura blossom from someone shy and subdued into an intelligent and assertive girl.
After much contemplation, Ino decided to forgo the use of a bracelet, ring, or locket and instead presented Sakura with a pretty red bow, the one she’d use up until the last weeks of school and when it all fell apart.
No one had to tell her that Sakura also liked the dark-haired boy, Sasuke. Every girl (except maybe Hinata) had a crush on the Uchiha, a fact Ino hadn’t made public about herself save to some other girls when they’d been discussing him. As for Sakura, her infatuation was obvious whenever Sasuke was around her. When he was chosen to hand back graded assignments, her fingernails would curve over the edge of her desk till her knuckles turned white and her chest would still as she ceased to breathe, relishing the moment he spared her a look and dropped her work onto her desk.
Ino observed this and said nothing, unconcerned and content with the belief that nothing, including having a crush on the same boy, could possibly affect their relationship. It was for that reason she never bothered telling Sakura about liking him in the first place, reassuring herself that it would make no difference when in reality an unsettling, cold feeling began lingering in the pit of her stomach as the school year neared an end.
The feeling only worsened when Sakura suddenly started finding excuses to avoid walking home with her, or when her smiles became strained and no longer reached her eyes. Ino continued to ignore her unease, denying it like the terminally ill would their worsening symptoms, as if pretending it wasn’t there would simply make the problem go away.
Ignoring the foreboding feelings no longer became an option one day late in June, when a crumpled note landed on the surface of her desk and rolled onto her schoolwork. Her toes curled within her shoes and her stomach dropped when she unfolded it.
I have to talk to you after school.
After that, she couldn’t remember how the rest of the day had transpired. The rest of the lesson faded into a dull blare in the background as she stared at the board and repeatedly assured herself:
She won’t do this to me. She wouldn’t do this to me. She can’t do this to me.
The bell rang and she automatically gathered her things and headed for the main gate where Sakura usually met up with her after classes.
Surely enough, Sakura was standing there. She was holding the red ribbon in her right hand.
The sight of it and her grim expression was all Ino needed to see. It was like being stabbed in the gut.
Her face must have paled, for Sakura’s expression flickered and for a moment Ino thought she could see regret in those wide green eyes. But then her pride forcefully contorted her features into a sneer even though it felt like she was being rent on the inside. She couldn’t remember what she’d said-probably some bluff about how she’d beat her at her own game or something to that effect. The only thing she could remember afterwards was heading home and finding herself with the red bow clenched in her hand. Her throat was throbbing painfully and it wouldn’t stop, and though she knew the pain would relent if she gave into it and let herself cry, she endured it to the end of the day, refusing to let the tears fall.
What had happened to the idea of being friends forever? She believed it in her heart of hearts to be true and the dissolution of their relationship had left her shaken to her core. How could it be a lie? And if it was a lie, why would the world give her the impression of it being true in the first place?
It hurt to the extent of making her feel sick and she vehemently vowed to never forgive Sakura, viewing her betrayal as a transgression of the highest degree and seething the summer away with the resolution to never attempt making friends again.
It wasn’t a hollow promise, and she stuck to it when the next school year started, even though her new reserved demeanour opened her up to gossip without the fear of reprisal and the rumours ran wild. Suddenly she was the one responsible for their friendship ending. Suddenly she was being accused of trying to steal Sasuke away when it was clear to the entire school that Sakura was in love with him.
Ino bore it with her head held high and a stony expression, even though she crumbled a little inside each time she caught Sakura’s eye on the playground and her heartache overwhelmed her anger.
Then, two months after school started, something happened that made Asuma-sensei disappear for a few days, and they had some tired old substitute sit in for him while they ran amok of the classroom. A week later, the principal walked in and informed them Asuma-sensei would not be returning. Before they could ask any further questions, he introduced their new teacher.
The man, who had been standing silently behind the principal the entire time, stepped forward and raised his hand in a wave.
“Yo.”
The kids stared at him. A few giggled at the off-colour greeting and the rest looked at the principal sceptically.
The principal cleared his throat. “His name is Hatake Kakashi and I expect each and every one of you to treat him with the same respect as you did Asuma-sensei. Do I make myself clear?”
A sonorous “yes” echoed throughout the classroom. Satisfied, the principal murmured a few words to their new teacher in private before patting him on the back and leaving the room.
Kakashi stood in front of the silent class for a moment longer before turning to his desk and setting his briefcase down. They watched warily, trying to gauge whether his laidback demeanour was just a front for a tough disciplinarian. He took his time removing his coat and gloves but didn’t unravel the scarf that covered most of his lower face. He turned towards them and sat on the corner of his desk, surveying them through half-lidded eyes.
No one moved or spoke, recognizing him as the type of teacher who commanded respect and silence without having to ask for it.
“Well then,” he said at last, reaching up to scratch his unruly head. “Which one of you feels like taking a trip to the staff room?”
Silence.
Then a hand rose slowly in the back.
He inclined his head towards it and gestured for the volunteer to stand.
“What’s your name?”
“Ino,” she said promptly.
He rubbed his forehead. “You mind getting me a coffee?”
Ino blinked and nodded and he gestured for her to go ahead.
Then he grabbed the attendance chart off the desk and marked a check next to her name as she hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. She paused outside the class for a moment, listening as he began rattling off names for attendance.
She took a breath and released it slowly in relief, taking her time ambling down the halls and taking the longest route possible to get to the staff room. The longer she could stay out of class, the better.
The halls were empty and they echoed faintly with the voices of teachers muffled behind closed doors. She hurried past the main office and made her way to the staff room, finding it empty. There was a coffee dispenser in the back, along with a stack of paper cups. Again, she took her time, filling the coffee slowly and gazing around the room.
Her eyes stilled on the box of pastries someone had left open on a coffee table. The teacher had seemed a mite peckish to her, and he seemed to be a no-nonsense, non-favouritism type of guy who wouldn’t tolerate any future misbehaviour from the students the way Asuma had. Perhaps if she made a good first impression, he’d grant her permission to do what she’d been bothering Asuma-sensei for since the beginning of the year. Suddenly hopeful, she decided she’d grab a donut for him, too.
By the time she returned to the classroom, the students were sitting hunched over worksheets of multiplication tables while their new teacher wrote some problems up on the blackboard. Ino wordlessly deposited the coffee and donut on his desk and returned to her seat.
By the time the morning recess bell rang, they’d been working on multiplication problems for a straight hour in absolute silence. They looked expectantly over at Kakashi, who didn’t even look up from his book as he waved them away with one hand. The class dispersed and filtered out of the room, breaking into loud voices and laughter in the hall. Eventually the voices faded outside and the classroom was silent, the only sounds emanating from the soft rustle of Kakashi turning the pages of his book.
Then he heard a chair scrape over the tiles and lifted his head to see Ino still sitting at her desk, looking idly out the window.
He blinked before leaning forward to look at his chart of seating arrangements and find her name. “Did you need something…er, Ino?”
“Can I spend recess indoors?” she asked without looking away from the window.
His brow wrinkled slightly. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I won’t bother you,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ll just sit here and read.”
Kakashi tapped a finger against the edge of his book and considered her. It was obvious she didn’t want to discuss it, and for such a young kid, she was impressively skilled at the art of inscrutability. But she was not so skilled that she could conceal the slight waver in her voice and the way she swallowed hard each time before answering.
Eventually, Kakashi set down his book and sighed. Handling social issues was not his forte and he was as qualified for dealing with self-esteem problems as he was performing brain surgery. Uncomfortable with the entire situation, he considered calling in one of the female teachers to deal with her, but then realized he couldn’t leave her alone in the room.
After a while of weighing the pros and cons, he gave up and slumped back in his seat.
“Why don’t you want to go outside?”
She shrugged. “I don’t get along with the other girls.”
“What about the boys?”
“They’re too dumb and immature for me.”
Well, he couldn’t argue that point.
He thought a moment before trying a different tactic. “You need your fresh air and exercise. You should try making up with your friends.”
“When girls fight,” she said slowly and empathically, turning a page in her book, “they never make up.”
Kakashi rubbed his chin. He couldn’t deny that to be true, either.
Typically when boys fought, they punched each other a few times to vent whatever anger and aggression they held toward each other. Then once they’d exhausted themselves and felt satisfied with their respective injuries, they generally forgave and forgot.
And more often than not, girls avoided violence and fought covertly, with vicious tongues and cold shoulders, enabling enough misinterpretations and resentment to ensure a lifetime of enmity.
He really wasn’t qualified to deal with this, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Maybe we can work this out,” he said. “How about you tell me what happened?”
She didn’t reply.
Assuming she needed some time to form an explanation, he leaned back in his chair and waited. But when she remained silent and continued to stare at the same spot in her book, a concerned look crossed his face.
“Ino?”
There was a long silence.
Then she slowly set her book down.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said at last, voice cracking.
Kakashi stared at her, dismayed when her lower lip drew inward to contain the impending sob and tears streaked down her face. After a minute, he sighed and forced himself to get up and go over to her, grabbing the tissue box off his desk along the way.
He had to give her credit for trying to suck it up and save face in front of him, but whatever was hurting her had to have been hurting bad for her to continuously fail and dissolve into muffled weeping. Wordlessly, he sat down next to her and slid the box across her desk, sparing her dignity by looking away when she snatched the tissues and mopped her face.
“It’s okay,” he said after she’d managed to compose herself. “You can stay if you want. I won’t push you anymore.”
Her hands were visibly trembling and she entwined her fingers to still them. “I’m sorry...”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. If anyone asks, I’ll make something up.” He floundered for a moment, trying to think of something that would cheer her up. “I’ll tell them you’re allergic to the sun.”
It was a lame attempt, but she made a muffled noise that might’ve been laughter.
“Sure, people will think you’re a vampire-”
She emitted another watery giggle.
“-but I suppose it’s a sacrifice you’re going to have to make.”
She nodded, smiling through tears even though her chest still hurt, but the feeling ebbed a little when he reached out and patted her comfortingly on top of her head.
“You’ll be okay.”
She nodded again, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the face. He seemed to sense this and circled back to his desk. A few minutes later, the bell rang.
As the children filtered back into the class and Kakashi rose from his chair to begin the next set of lessons, Ino spared him a grateful look and hid her face in her book till the end of the day.
**********
Ino had fervently prayed that night that he wouldn’t change his mind about letting her stay indoors the following day. After all, teachers tended to be dismissive of the social conflicts of children and, more often than not, would let their initial compassion dwindle into apathy.
So when the recess bell rang the next morning, Ino remained at her desk and didn’t dare look up lest he catch her eye and change his mind. The classroom emptied and fell silent, and after a little while she heard a soft thump and turned her head to look at him.
Kakashi had propped his feet on his desk and folded one arm behind his head. He was looking out the window.
Ino chewed on her bottom lip and tried to go back to her reading, but when she found herself rereading the same page over and over again, she set the book down and looked at him again. Her voice started him out of his reverie.
“I really didn’t do anything,” she mumbled.
He stared at her, uncomprehending. Then it dawned on him and his gaze turned thoughtful.
“I don’t doubt that,” he said after a while, shrugging. “Some kids are just jerks.”
Ino blinked in surprise.
“It gets better once you get to college,” he continued, looking idly out the window again. “But then again…you’ll meet jerks in every setting. It’s just one of those facts of life.”
There was something strange and unfamiliar about the way he was speaking to her, and it confused her until she realized, with a wave of awe and uncertainty, that he was speaking to her the way adults spoke to each other.
When she didn’t say anything, he sighed and scratched his head. “I’m not a very good counsellor, am I?”
Ino couldn’t help but smile at his self-deprecating tone. “It’s okay…” She followed his gaze out the window, the smile gradually fading. “Because I’m never trying to make friends again.”
Kakashi spared her a mildly surprised look. “That’s a pretty heavy decision for an eleven-year-old.”
She fixed him with a defiant look. “It’s not my fault.”
She half-expected him to lecture her about forgiveness and saying things she didn’t mean, but he merely sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you can’t be blamed.”
He looked out the window again. “I was a pretty lousy friend, too.”
She looked at him curiously. He didn’t elaborate and she felt it prudent to keep quiet, especially when she took in the pensiveness that crept into his features. Returning to her book, she forced herself to continue reading until the bell rang again.
**********
The next two weeks passed in the same fashion, the two comfortably tolerating each other in the room while she read and he graded homework. But the monotonous routine was beginning to wear on her and Ino grew restless, hungry for conversation and like-mindedness.
She would disparage herself furiously whenever she found her mind returning to Sakura and she refused to say anything to her teacher about it, knowing he’d probably respond with something along the lines of ‘I told you so.’ But he was far more perceptive than she gave him credit for and he called her out on it when she put her book down to gaze yearningly out the window at the other kids.
“I had to learn some stuff about child psychology before becoming a teacher,” he said offhandedly, not even looking up from his book. “There was a section this big...”
He raised a hand and held his thumb and index finger two inches apart. “...about how important it is for a child to socialize and make friends.”
Ino glared half-heartedly at him. “I’m not a child. And I don’t need friends.”
“Everyone needs friends.”
Her tone became petulant. “Then why don’t you be my friend?”
“Ah, I would, Ino, but sensei would get funny looks from the department of education.”
She sighed and looked out the window again. “This sucks.”
He hummed in agreement.
“Was there anyone else who stayed indoors for recess at your old school?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I taught at a different kind of school before this one. There were no recesses.”
Ino gave him a funny look. “What kind of a school is that?”
She could tell he was smiling, even behind his scarf. “A special school.”
She felt he was being deliberately vague and gave him a sceptical look. He laughed lightly and rubbed the back of his neck, finally setting his book down on the desk. After a moment’s consideration, he gestured for her to take a seat on the desk closest to him.
“Bear with me,” he said as she moved to the seat and looked at him curiously. “I’m going to step up on my soapbox for a minute.”
He folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the desk, eyes trailing thoughtfully over the stack of graded tests.
“I’m not going to sugar coat the truth. I’m sure you can tell by now but I’m not very good at solving these sorts of...problems. So I’m going to go ahead and tell you what I do know.”
He took a deep breath.
“The truth is that you’ll meet lots of friends in your lifetime. Some you’ll only know for a few days, some a few years. There’ll be a couple who hurt you. There’ll be a couple you might end up hating. Most of them will forget you, but if you’re lucky, you’ll meet one or two who’ll remember your name even years after you drift apart.”
Ino stared at him, flummoxed and a little horrified as he calmly and casually demolished her idealistic model of friendship and negated everything the TV or preteen novels had ever taught her. He seemed to anticipate her reaction and regarded her calmly before continuing.
“Knowing this, you have two choices. You either stay indoors and avoid everyone so you don’t get hurt again, or you risk it and give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’ll get hurt again, maybe you won’t. And if it works out, you might get one or two good friends along the way. If you’re one in a lucky million, you’ll find a friend who’d even give his life for you.”
He paused. “But you have to be brave for that. It’s not easy, finding real friends, and sometimes you have to suffer disappointment before you do find them.”
Ino mouthed wordlessly at him before finding her voice, the words coming out stilted. “But that’s not fair. I was...nice to her. I never hurt her feelings. I never did anything wrong.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes it works out that way. You just have to move on.”
Ino curled her fingers into trembling fists. “She really hurt me.”
He was silent for a moment and studied the surface of his desk. “You won’t realize it now, but when you’re older, you’ll learn that the fear of getting hurt is what keeps people so far apart. Even two people who have the potential to become friends never do because they’re afraid. And not just of getting hurt. They’re scared of feeling stupid. Of distraction. Of failure.”
He smiled at her. “It’s why you’re lucky to be a kid while it lasts. Kids don’t worry about that sort of stuff.”
Ino looked torn between bitter resentment and a desperate want to believe him, and after a moment of struggling with herself, lowered her head in acceptance.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Be yourself,” he said simply. “And never be afraid to show how you really feel.”
He was silent for several seconds and though he was staring at the graded stack of tests, his eyes eventually lost their focus and his voice grew quiet. “You might regret it for the rest of your life.”
She watched him, recognizing his expression to be the same pensive one she’d seen the last time he’d talked to her. It was subduing enough to stem her hurt and anger at his nonchalance and she took the time to calm down and consider what he’d said.
“So...” she began unsurely. “I should tell people exactly what’s on my mind?”
“Depends,” he replied. “If it’s a good thing, never hold back.”
“...can I tell you something, then?”
He looked up.
“I think you’re weird,” she stated. Then her lips turned up in a small smile. “But I think you’re really cool, too.”
He blinked at her before chuckling and reaching out to ruffle her hair.
They fell into a comfortable silence once more. Ino studied him, wondering what had him so lost in thought.
“Sensei,” she ventured, looking up at him imploringly. “You know how you said...if you’re lucky, you might meet a friend who’d give their life for you?”
“Mm.”
“Do you have a friend like that?”
The wistful look faded from his eyes and he nodded. “Yes. I did.”
She bit her lip. “Will I ever meet anyone like that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, smiling a little at her crestfallen expression. “Maybe, maybe not. But think of it this way-there are six billion people on earth, and at least one of them should be a perfect match.”
Ino’s eyes widened. “Like...a soul mate?”
He tapped his chin. “Oh, I don’t know about that, but considering the finite range of personalities and the huge base population, you could say it’s a possibility. Logistically speaking, of course.”
Ino made a face at him. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
“Sorry,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m getting old, you know. Forgot I was talking to a nine-year-old.”
“I’m eleven!” she exclaimed.
“What? Really?”
“Kakashi-sensei!”
“Sorry, sorry-”
He was trying to make her laugh and it was working, and though she was still full of hurt and anger at Sakura and confused over the slew of contradicting and sobering information he’d given her, it gave her a sense of relief to know she’d been wrong.
The possibility of finding true friends, though much smaller than she’d anticipated, was still real. It would simply take some time and effort.
“So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “If anyone asks, what should I tell them about this whole indoor recess thing?”
Ino hesitated.
“Tell them...” She looked out the window at her playing classmates.
Slowly, a small, determined smile crossed her face. “Tell them I’m not allergic to the sun anymore.”
**********
Looking back on the experience years later and coming to learn subsequent facts about her teacher, Ino came to realize just how difficult it must have been for Kakashi to make the transition from military school to an elementary school. And not just difficult, but painful to have had to make lessons out of his own mistakes for a child who had no concept of real problems.
Now that she thought about it, his patience with her petulance had been remarkable. He talked to her like an adult because he didn’t know how to talk to children, and that was a fact he’d done nothing to conceal and something she was grateful for.
There were several things he’d done right and several he’d done wrong, as was to be expected from a man who had no place in an elementary school and didn’t know how to deal with prepubescent girls. She still wasn’t sure if his obvious regret and habit of reminiscing over his nameless friend had been an appropriate thing to do in front of her, simply because of the way it had enthralled her at the time. She often found herself wondering if people would remember her the same way if she, too, were to die. It was a romantic, selfish and morbid thought, but it became a coping mechanism each time she foresaw a relationship not working out and each time she felt the disappointment and self-disparagement.
Your first best friend was like your first love, she supposed, and it was for that reason she never did fully overcome her reservation to commitment. She was both brave and afraid, being the first to assimilate into groups of friends and being the first to leave before the newfound friendship had a chance to spoil.
It was a hollow way to live, but she coped by assuring herself she’d stick in their minds because she was beautiful and confident and charming, and that one day she would get what she deserved because she was Ino and Ino always got what she wanted. Like Kakashi-sensei had said, out of the six billion people on earth, she would inevitably meet the one who’d be her perfect match.
And if life was right and fair, he would be tall, dark-haired, and have fine, aristocratic features. His bangs would fall into his eyes a certain way, he would talk a certain way and walk a certain way. They’d meet unexpectedly and recognize each other as their missing halves. They would marry and have children and grow old together. They would die together.
It was a ridiculous pipe dream, but if she was fated to be one of the few brave souls taking the fall in the effort to connect with people, it was only fair. Life owed her that much.
Though it wouldn’t be all bad. She could remember making a few memorable, fleeting connections, recalling the widowed old lady at the Laundromat, the only child in the family living next door, and the world-weary blonde she’d met last year in that nightclub.
At the thought of him, Ino blinked open her eyes and gazed up at the ceiling.
The room was dark and the contours of her furniture gleamed faintly in the night light. The window was open and she listened to the sounds of cars crunching over gravel in the distance, her head turning against her pillow to look out into the dark.
Vague snatches of their conversation floated into memory and she smiled faintly.
He’d been tired, standoffish, and gloomy. And yet...
She hugged her pillow to her chest.
Something that reminded her of herself-something fervid, bright and disarmingly familiar had burned in his eyes like the flame of a candle about to go out, and she’d found herself drawn to it without any real explanation. When their walk had ended, she had been unnervingly sad to see him go and found it imperative to say exactly what she’d felt in that moment.
I really like you.
And because she didn’t want to leave-
Can I take you home with me?
Ino closed her eyes at the memory of his surprised face and smiled ruefully.
Despite the ridiculousness of the question, she wished he would have agreed, not so much for her sake as his.
When she’d walked away from him, leaving him standing there in the dark, he’d looked as though he’d wanted nothing more than to take her up on the offer and leave his world behind.
************
[PART 2] here.
Previous chapters:
Caught You on the Flip Side ch.1