Playing with tenses
I was going to try to post this at tumblr as I felt like I should contribute there. People are doing so many beautiful kakasaku things there, but for some reason my tumblr version on my surface doesn't give me cut codes so yeah. I gave up. This little half chapter has been eating my mind. I go to sleep thinking about it. I tapped it out quickly to make some space in my brain and let me sleep. I did it in present tense which is new for me but it fit nicer than my usual. I need to retitle that story. I need to commit to making that a story.
I posted two chapters of that story here already - but this is a far future chapter for it. I probably shouldn't post it... If you don't want to spoil yourself, skip it.
“Kakashi?” Sakura’s tired voice drifts in from the office doorway accompanied by the whine of the door hinges.
For the last hour, Kakashi had been staring out his office window, tracing the orange-pink clouds and clenching his fists against the chair arms while he waited for her. Against his will, Sakura had been tasked by hospital administration with couriering over the financial reports after whatever meeting she’d been dragged into earlier in the day.
It's dark out before she finally appears.
In his head, Kakashi imagines himself asking her about her day in the simple small talk in which normal people engage - just like they used to. But normalcy is a dream for them.
“I guess I’m late.”
Her lovely voice makes his jaw clench.
He considers just gesturing to the desk without looking at her, hoping she'll drop the bundle and be on her merry way. But he owes her at least some semblance of courtesy as they aren’t full out enemies after all. Their convoluted and difficult history isn’t entirely her fault. Actually, down to the minutia of it, he knows the blame was really his from the very beginning.
Maybe the universe was just working against them back then, he supposes.
But why isn’t he able to get past it all? In seven long years, he can’t let it go.
When he finally finds the meagre resolve to face her, he spins the leather chair around lazily as his eyes rove the floor and the desk before they find her lovely legs. It takes a great amount of inner encouragement to trail his gaze up to her face. Lately, and often in her presence, he experiences such bitter anger - though this is also not her fault.
“The papers you wanted, Kakashi,” she strains slightly, a hint of effort in her thin voice. Her tone isn’t really an unusual affectation in his proximity. He doesn’t hate that she's affected by him as well.
Suddenly, Kakashi's brow uncontrollably dips as he grows aware of a change in her today. Her bright eyes are heavy and half-lidded, her cheeks mottled with a rouge tinge. “Are you all right?” his long forgotten voice of concern for her asks. He hasn’t used that particular tone in years.
With no ability to stop himself, Kakashi is on his feet, shifting around the desk toward her - old attachment driving him.
She stiffens slightly at the change in their usual false pleasantries as he approaches. A single tense nod greets him as her unfocused eyes rise to follow his face. She always looks like she has so many things she wants to say to him. He probably deserves most of them but they no longer have the ability for honesty with each other. What are those words and sentiments now but wasteful pain?
“Your papers,” she urges again, motioning the large envelope toward him with an awkward jerk. Her fingers shake as she pushes some hair off her forehead where it sticks to the light dusting of perspiration that glistens there. A sheen graces the top of her perfect mouth and Kakashi’s dark eyes linger on it.
He takes the shaking envelope and tosses it on the desk behind him. “What’s the matter?”
Sakura’s eyes drift closed momentarily as she presses the back of her hand against her mouth. She lacks the energy to rise to their animosity which is also out of the ordinary. “Just overdid it at work. I need to get home. Sarada’s waiting.”
“Ah,” Kakashi breathes out, taking a step back. “You probably should.”
Another heavy nod later, Sakura turns and moves back to the door. “Goodnight,” she mumbles quietly as she slips out.
Kakashi finds himself immediately at the window again. He watches her from the moment she emerges from the Hokage tower all the way to where she turns the corner at the end of the road and is gone.
“Goodnight,” he says quietly.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s at least eleven-thirty when Kakashi washes down his last jigger of whiskey with the next. Warmth swirls in his stomach like tame fire and eases through his limbs. He isn’t drunk, but he is pleasantly on his way. The speed with which he’s built his tolerance since becoming Hokage doesn’t make him proud.
Seven years in the post has ruined him, turned him to a blank machine that makes decisions rapidly and does not deviate from routine. The day is coming to give it up finally and he believes it won’t be soon enough.
Kakashi takes another unnecessary shot of rye, knowing it's because he saw her today.
He tips his head back on his sofa and closes his heavy eyes. A few more and he’ll possibly sleep without dreaming about her. “Wouldn’t that be a nice change,” he muses to himself.
But Hatake Kakashi has never been in the good graces of Karma or Fate and so it’s hardly a surprise when he hears a weak knock on the door. It’s in his head to ignore it but the next knock is accompanied by some soft sobbing.
He’s at the door and opening it before his head has realized his body has taken him there.
“What are you doing, Sarada?” he asks, puzzled by her presence as he crouches to her height.
Sarada pushes her small fingers under her glasses and rubs her forearm across her wet eyes as she whimpers, “Sixth. You have to come…”
“Come where?” Kakashi asks, but it sounds ridiculous. He knows where.
“She keeps saying your name. I can’t get her to answer me,” Sarada huffs and slurs as hot tears race to her chin and drop on her shoes. “Please…”
“Okay,” he relents. Her small desperate voice is ruining him. “Okay…”
He’s fully clothed and wearing his vest still, and he grabs the white robe hanging by the door to slip it on and follow the distraught young girl who keeps looking back at him nervously with Sasuke’s eyes. He likes Sarada as she’s a very pleasant little girl of six, but there’s always that resemblance to her absent father which pulls him out of the many conversations she tries to have with him. Her desperation for a male figure in her life is balanced poorly with his need to keep women out of his own.
It only takes three minutes to get to Sakura’s house as it’s not far from Kakashi’s own home. In all these years, he has never set foot in it.
Sarada’s cool fingers grab his hand and she expertly rushes him through the darkened rooms until she finds the one for which she is aiming.
There’s pale light from the lamp on the wooden end table, and there’s a book splayed on the floor beside the bed. Sakura’s long legs are twisted in the cream coloured sheets and the thin white cotton nightgown she wears is soaked in places. Her head jerks slightly as her breathy voice mumbles nonsense.
“Mama…?” Sarada whimpers, clasping her hands together against her lips.
“Sarada,” Kakashi crouches again and takes the young frantic girl by the shoulders. Calmly, he says, “Get Shizune and tell her to meet me at the hospital.” His words are tinted with whiskey and he regrets that she can probably smell it.
“Okay,” she says so sadly that Kakashi feels the desire to comfort her, but she is not his child. Sarada turns, still wiping at her face with shaking fingers, and darts from the room.
Kakashi looks down at Sakura, her pale skin sweat-beaded and her face flush with fever. The front door clicks shut before he’s willing to go near her.
Finally, he sits down on the bed beside her and uses two fingers to brush away the damp pink curl of hair sticking to her cheek. Her skin is like fire. “Sakura,” he whispers.
“Kakashi,” she groans, breathing fast as her eyes search him before rolling to the nightstand. “Tell Kakashi.”
“I’m here,” he says a little louder, caressing her hot throat with uncooperative fingers. “It’s okay now.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Sarada,” she says softly, her weak fingers twisting desperately in the edge of his white robe.
“She’s okay,” he forces out. Overcome with the idea that he is touching her, Kakashi slides his hand under her neck and lifts her up against him, cradling her head with his arm. “You’re sick, Sakura. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Kakashi,” she sobs softly, her trembling hand reaching up to brush his face. “I made a mistake.”
“Don’t talk about it now.” He pulls her closer and speaks into her hair as he closes his eyes. He’s trembling too.
“It was too late when I figured it out,” she whimpers against his chest.
“Sakura, enough now.” He feels the anger at their situation swelling a little inside him.
“I want to go back to tell him…”
Kakashi’s curiosity wars with his desire to get away from her. “Tell him what, Sakura?”
“That I chose him. I chose him too late… Kakashi, I’m sorry.”
Kakashi pushes his hand roughly against his eyes. He knows he's always wanted to hear it from her, but to what end? It's just too damn late. She’s married with a child. And he is Hokage. He couldn’t be part of any scandal that stealing the wife of the last Uchiha could bring, even if he wanted nothing more than to do just that.
Didn’t they hate each other anyway?
He's always loved her so selfishly, so poorly - right from the beginning.
He slides his other arm under her slender legs to lift her limp body from the bed. She is hot and trembling in his arms. He never imagined he would ever hold her again and it feels so good and bad at the same time.
Her head sinks against his chest as she huffs out feverish breaths.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Sakura,” he allows in a cracked whisper because she won’t remember.
But he will.
I posted two chapters of that story here already - but this is a far future chapter for it. I probably shouldn't post it... If you don't want to spoil yourself, skip it.
“Kakashi?” Sakura’s tired voice drifts in from the office doorway accompanied by the whine of the door hinges.
For the last hour, Kakashi had been staring out his office window, tracing the orange-pink clouds and clenching his fists against the chair arms while he waited for her. Against his will, Sakura had been tasked by hospital administration with couriering over the financial reports after whatever meeting she’d been dragged into earlier in the day.
It's dark out before she finally appears.
In his head, Kakashi imagines himself asking her about her day in the simple small talk in which normal people engage - just like they used to. But normalcy is a dream for them.
“I guess I’m late.”
Her lovely voice makes his jaw clench.
He considers just gesturing to the desk without looking at her, hoping she'll drop the bundle and be on her merry way. But he owes her at least some semblance of courtesy as they aren’t full out enemies after all. Their convoluted and difficult history isn’t entirely her fault. Actually, down to the minutia of it, he knows the blame was really his from the very beginning.
Maybe the universe was just working against them back then, he supposes.
But why isn’t he able to get past it all? In seven long years, he can’t let it go.
When he finally finds the meagre resolve to face her, he spins the leather chair around lazily as his eyes rove the floor and the desk before they find her lovely legs. It takes a great amount of inner encouragement to trail his gaze up to her face. Lately, and often in her presence, he experiences such bitter anger - though this is also not her fault.
“The papers you wanted, Kakashi,” she strains slightly, a hint of effort in her thin voice. Her tone isn’t really an unusual affectation in his proximity. He doesn’t hate that she's affected by him as well.
Suddenly, Kakashi's brow uncontrollably dips as he grows aware of a change in her today. Her bright eyes are heavy and half-lidded, her cheeks mottled with a rouge tinge. “Are you all right?” his long forgotten voice of concern for her asks. He hasn’t used that particular tone in years.
With no ability to stop himself, Kakashi is on his feet, shifting around the desk toward her - old attachment driving him.
She stiffens slightly at the change in their usual false pleasantries as he approaches. A single tense nod greets him as her unfocused eyes rise to follow his face. She always looks like she has so many things she wants to say to him. He probably deserves most of them but they no longer have the ability for honesty with each other. What are those words and sentiments now but wasteful pain?
“Your papers,” she urges again, motioning the large envelope toward him with an awkward jerk. Her fingers shake as she pushes some hair off her forehead where it sticks to the light dusting of perspiration that glistens there. A sheen graces the top of her perfect mouth and Kakashi’s dark eyes linger on it.
He takes the shaking envelope and tosses it on the desk behind him. “What’s the matter?”
Sakura’s eyes drift closed momentarily as she presses the back of her hand against her mouth. She lacks the energy to rise to their animosity which is also out of the ordinary. “Just overdid it at work. I need to get home. Sarada’s waiting.”
“Ah,” Kakashi breathes out, taking a step back. “You probably should.”
Another heavy nod later, Sakura turns and moves back to the door. “Goodnight,” she mumbles quietly as she slips out.
Kakashi finds himself immediately at the window again. He watches her from the moment she emerges from the Hokage tower all the way to where she turns the corner at the end of the road and is gone.
“Goodnight,” he says quietly.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s at least eleven-thirty when Kakashi washes down his last jigger of whiskey with the next. Warmth swirls in his stomach like tame fire and eases through his limbs. He isn’t drunk, but he is pleasantly on his way. The speed with which he’s built his tolerance since becoming Hokage doesn’t make him proud.
Seven years in the post has ruined him, turned him to a blank machine that makes decisions rapidly and does not deviate from routine. The day is coming to give it up finally and he believes it won’t be soon enough.
Kakashi takes another unnecessary shot of rye, knowing it's because he saw her today.
He tips his head back on his sofa and closes his heavy eyes. A few more and he’ll possibly sleep without dreaming about her. “Wouldn’t that be a nice change,” he muses to himself.
But Hatake Kakashi has never been in the good graces of Karma or Fate and so it’s hardly a surprise when he hears a weak knock on the door. It’s in his head to ignore it but the next knock is accompanied by some soft sobbing.
He’s at the door and opening it before his head has realized his body has taken him there.
“What are you doing, Sarada?” he asks, puzzled by her presence as he crouches to her height.
Sarada pushes her small fingers under her glasses and rubs her forearm across her wet eyes as she whimpers, “Sixth. You have to come…”
“Come where?” Kakashi asks, but it sounds ridiculous. He knows where.
“She keeps saying your name. I can’t get her to answer me,” Sarada huffs and slurs as hot tears race to her chin and drop on her shoes. “Please…”
“Okay,” he relents. Her small desperate voice is ruining him. “Okay…”
He’s fully clothed and wearing his vest still, and he grabs the white robe hanging by the door to slip it on and follow the distraught young girl who keeps looking back at him nervously with Sasuke’s eyes. He likes Sarada as she’s a very pleasant little girl of six, but there’s always that resemblance to her absent father which pulls him out of the many conversations she tries to have with him. Her desperation for a male figure in her life is balanced poorly with his need to keep women out of his own.
It only takes three minutes to get to Sakura’s house as it’s not far from Kakashi’s own home. In all these years, he has never set foot in it.
Sarada’s cool fingers grab his hand and she expertly rushes him through the darkened rooms until she finds the one for which she is aiming.
There’s pale light from the lamp on the wooden end table, and there’s a book splayed on the floor beside the bed. Sakura’s long legs are twisted in the cream coloured sheets and the thin white cotton nightgown she wears is soaked in places. Her head jerks slightly as her breathy voice mumbles nonsense.
“Mama…?” Sarada whimpers, clasping her hands together against her lips.
“Sarada,” Kakashi crouches again and takes the young frantic girl by the shoulders. Calmly, he says, “Get Shizune and tell her to meet me at the hospital.” His words are tinted with whiskey and he regrets that she can probably smell it.
“Okay,” she says so sadly that Kakashi feels the desire to comfort her, but she is not his child. Sarada turns, still wiping at her face with shaking fingers, and darts from the room.
Kakashi looks down at Sakura, her pale skin sweat-beaded and her face flush with fever. The front door clicks shut before he’s willing to go near her.
Finally, he sits down on the bed beside her and uses two fingers to brush away the damp pink curl of hair sticking to her cheek. Her skin is like fire. “Sakura,” he whispers.
“Kakashi,” she groans, breathing fast as her eyes search him before rolling to the nightstand. “Tell Kakashi.”
“I’m here,” he says a little louder, caressing her hot throat with uncooperative fingers. “It’s okay now.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Sarada,” she says softly, her weak fingers twisting desperately in the edge of his white robe.
“She’s okay,” he forces out. Overcome with the idea that he is touching her, Kakashi slides his hand under her neck and lifts her up against him, cradling her head with his arm. “You’re sick, Sakura. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Kakashi,” she sobs softly, her trembling hand reaching up to brush his face. “I made a mistake.”
“Don’t talk about it now.” He pulls her closer and speaks into her hair as he closes his eyes. He’s trembling too.
“It was too late when I figured it out,” she whimpers against his chest.
“Sakura, enough now.” He feels the anger at their situation swelling a little inside him.
“I want to go back to tell him…”
Kakashi’s curiosity wars with his desire to get away from her. “Tell him what, Sakura?”
“That I chose him. I chose him too late… Kakashi, I’m sorry.”
Kakashi pushes his hand roughly against his eyes. He knows he's always wanted to hear it from her, but to what end? It's just too damn late. She’s married with a child. And he is Hokage. He couldn’t be part of any scandal that stealing the wife of the last Uchiha could bring, even if he wanted nothing more than to do just that.
Didn’t they hate each other anyway?
He's always loved her so selfishly, so poorly - right from the beginning.
He slides his other arm under her slender legs to lift her limp body from the bed. She is hot and trembling in his arms. He never imagined he would ever hold her again and it feels so good and bad at the same time.
Her head sinks against his chest as she huffs out feverish breaths.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Sakura,” he allows in a cracked whisper because she won’t remember.
But he will.