reigning off the beaten path.
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hatake Kakashi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: o26. the sound of waves & cliché: o3. amnesia & o39. beyond the horizon
Word Count: 3235
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Warning: Cliché and overly used theme of amnesia (my excuse being its written for my cliché mi table)
Notes: Written for 30_kisses & mission_insane & 500themes . Prompt tables are here & here & here. This is only part one of several (probably two or three) parts. Enjoy!
-
“We’ll stop at that town for the night,” the commander’s voice buzzed through the earpiece, and behind him, three exhausted bodies nearly sagged with relief. Their fear of showing weakness before their sometimes ruthless, sometimes carefree, and always depressed (he hid it well, but they spent too much time together not to notice) leader forbid them for actually relieving themselves of the motion. But their gratitude to the silver-haired, reinstated ANBU was at its peak, for letting them at least have a bed, crappy as it may be, to sleep on after a mission like this.
“Aren’t we really close to the ocean?” the latest addition to their team questioned nonchalantly as they sped towards the small gate.
“Yeah, which means we’re really far from home,” a disgruntled voice cut in, pumping more chakra into his abused legs. Kakashi’s silhouette was barely still visible on the horizon, and as much as he trusted his old friend on the battlefield, Genma knew that there were far too many wounds still bleeding for that man to be okay.
Already, five springs had come and gone. It was enough time for a child to grow and blossom into a state of almost-maturity, where angelic smiles and toothy laughs lose themselves to time, but Genma knew that Kakashi’s wounds would still be bleeding, even if the five springs had multiplied into thirty.
The war had been harsh on everyone - too many things were lost, and even more were sacrificed. Kakashi’s endless history of outliving everyone around him had manifested again in the worst possible form, and the lives that had joined the immortal memory of Obito and Rin and everyone else were ones he never wished to add.
Sasuke, because he was first - not that Kakashi felt he deserved any amounts of remorse, but it was the simple acknowledgement of failure that kept him in the habit of including a short mention of his name every morning. Naruto, because he was the saviour - like the Fourth that he had always respected, the blonde man had made the ultimate sacrifice to save everything so dear to him. Perhaps it had been destiny, but the trade of his life for the lives of the worst enemies of state was one the optimistic blonde had made without hesitation.
And then there was Sakura. Sakura, because she was the only girl, because there was too much remorse, too much regret and too many apologies to the cerise coloured woman for him to not include her. But there was also too much hope, hope he knew he couldn’t afford to have.
The bodies of Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto had been given a special grave, maybe because of Tsunade’s evident fondness for the blonde, or because of her final trickles of pity for her successor’s endless pool of broken dreams, but stripping the optimistic child of his last wish was something the Godaime was not capable of. It had been no extravagant secret that for the remainder of their life, the two left behind members of Team Seven struggled with all their will to be reunited with their lost counterpart. No matter how many times he tried to take their lives with him, it simply wasn’t enough to kill their relentless hope.
So it was with a bittersweet smile that the Godaime said her parting words to the two best friends, brothers in a sense, as she laid them in the ground. The Team Seven gravesite - it was an honour never heard of before, but they had always been a special threesome. On the plaque, the three names adorned it made anyone’s heart from their generation bleed, but the last one - Haruno Sakura - was but an empty lie on polished marble.
Or so he liked to tell himself - KIA, she had been deemed. The war had been too brimmed with chaos for anyone to be sure of what happened to her, but her body never was found. It had been suspicious, for sure - the Godaime’s precious apprentice, with flamboyant pink hair...surely, finding her amongst the rubble should’ve been an easy task. And so the hope he knew he should never nurture grew inside him. MIA, not KIA, he insisted fervently to himself.
But five years had drifted by, 1826 days of saying his prayers to the people that have left him behind, and no still no sight of coral flavoured hair to wake him from his depression.
“One room,” he said to the clerk, and the young man jerked awake, the drool from his doze still lingering on his chin.
“Sure,” he mumbled, not quite recovered from his dazed sleep.
Behind Kakashi, the three remaining members of ANBU Squad Five trickled in, eyes bleary behind their porcelain masks. They made quite a sight, in the small inn that was the only one of its kind in the small seaside town. In the decor of homely wood, surprisingly decent furniture and no peeling paint, they stuck out more than blotches of pink in an inky mass would.
“364 ryo please,” the clerk muttered lazily, and Kakashi was hard pressed to believe that there was a legitimate pricing scheme behind the 364 he was currently handing over. In his current state of near-unconsciousness, Kakashi was more ready to believe that the young man had pulled the number from the random abyss of his mind. “Thanks. Room 213, to your right.”
But Kakashi said nothing to complain as he took the key in exchange for the small stack of money. His three subordinates had already begun the trudge to their temporary haven, but Kakashi’s sluggish steps were halted by the soprano “Eiji-kun!” that drifted from somewhere behind him.
Five steps in front of him, Genma froze in his trek as well. Both jaded men whipped their heads around to face the source of the voice, and if it weren’t for the senbon falling from Genma’s slack lips, the two remaining, newer members of the team might not have noticed that their seniors had been rendered dumbstruck by something.
“...Sakura?” Genma whispered, voice raspy after such long negligence. He couldn’t help the that legs rushed him forward, towards the emerald eyed woman, his own chocolate orbs drinking her alive image in. “Sakura!”
She blinked her pretty eyes up at him, and tilted it sideways to study him more. It took her a full fifteen seconds to utter anything, but when she did, the disappointment that coursed through both men were like such they had never felt before.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a smile with all her apologies in it. “But do we know each other?”
Do we know each other?
...do we know each other?
Genma staggered backwards at her words, at the heavy implication of her words. Granted, the ANBU mask and uniform somewhat hindered her ability to identify them, but the hitai-ate should’ve been a dead giveaway. But she didn’t know, or didn’t remember. Did it really matter? he wondered momentarily before shooting a wayward glance at the still-silent Kakashi.
“My name is Ayako,” she continued, the smile still flirting with her lips. “You are...?”
“Leaving,” Kakashi’s voice interrupted from behind. Even through the double layer covering his face, Genma could see clearly from his lone eye the disapproving undertone. All the swallowed feelings from the past five years of everything were gulped down with that one word, and like an obedient subordinate, Genma turned away.
Shoulders tense and memories resurfacing, the two men stalked stiffly towards Room 213, leaving in their wake two baffled ANBU and two even more baffled hotel clerks.
-
“Where’s the Captain?” Akio commented lightly, the relaxed grin melting into his boyishly handsome features.
“Out,” Genma replied, with none of the former’s ease in that one word. “We’re going to delay our journey one day here.”
“Really?” the newly inaugurated teen beamed. “So we can go out to the beach? And hit the springs here?”
The two others received his enthusiasm with matching blankness on their contrastingly handsome features. The blonde never failed to exhaust their surprise for his penchant for playfulness, and Genma allowed himself a small laugh, forced as it may have been, for the fifteen year old. “Yeah, but you know the rules, boys.”
Akio’s twin, the polar opposite of the sun-filled blonde still beaming at their unexpected vacation shot Genma a quizzical stare, but dared not voice his thoughts. They had only been working with the two jaded men for two months, and without familiarity to fall back onto, he had no right by protocol to question their decisions or motives. With a sharp nod for the blonde talking excitedly and the brunette ignoring him pointedly, Genma swept out of the room in a flurry of charcoal gear.
“Let’s go to the springs - I saw it last night on our way here!” Akio said in a near yell. The annoyed glare his brother was shooting at him in daggers did nothing to stop the boy from dragging the reluctant latter out, mouth still working a mile a minute.
“Idiot,” Dai muttered. “You do realize that we’re supposed to be undercover?”
“Oh, you heard Genma-senpai!” Akio pouted up at the serious boy. “We’re taking a break today. Don’t act like such a stick in the mud all the time!”
“How is it that you made it into ANBU again?”
“Oh, that’s low, isn’t it?” Akio laughed. “Besides, everyone knows I’m better than you.”
“Not even in your wildest dreams, o-tou-to,” Dai smirked, triumphant. The age card was always the trump card in their childish banters, if the pout Akio was shooting him was any indication.
“Only by one minute and seventeen seconds!”
“Whatever, it’s not like-”
“Wait, shh!” Akio interrupted suddenly, the playfulness in his voice gone. Dai complied wordlessly. If he’d learned anything in the fifteen years of their relationship, it was that when Akio got serious, then you were damn well sure that it was serious. Before he’d had time to react, his brother had pulled him back behind the alley they’d just emerged from. “Look!” he hissed.
Following the discreet finger jabbed in a general north-east direction, Dai’s gaze travelled until it settled finally on the cause of Akio’s sudden mood swing. Sure enough, standing in front of the coffee shop were their two superiors, and the pretty hotel clerk with the oddest hair they’d ever seen. To untrained eyes, it would’ve seemed like two men making harmlessly casual conversation with a woman, but from the twins’ point of view, the tension was so thick in the air that even they felt nearly suffocated.
The hushed baritones were barely discernable over the distance, but with ears perked and strained to their maximum, the curious twins barely made out the basic gist of the conversation. Akio, confused by the double implications of every new line their teammates uttered could understand little else. It was only with the edges of Dai’s slowly enlightening face that Akio could bear to not blurt out a string of questions. If they were doing something perfectly acceptable before, they certainly weren’t now. Being caught spying on one’s superiors was simply something the brothers had no wish of, especially considering just who these men were.
“I’m sorry,” the pretty woman’s soprano drifted over softly, and even under his cool facade, Dai could feel every edge of the alluring quality in her magical voice. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand, I’m Ayako, as I told you before. I live here, and I’ve always lived here.”
“If you could just let us see your right bicep-”
“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” Kakashi cut in. Even with his back facing the two snooping in the alley, they could imagine perfectly well the infamous crinkle of his eye and curve of his lips under his ever-present mask. But the woman, now smiling delicately with a bit of wayward fear for the men did not pick up on the tense battle between the two men with their double standard words. “He’s recently been through a bit of trauma.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she accompanied her words with another smile - a little sad, for the words that had just been bestowed upon her. “If it’ll make you feel better, I see no harm in showing you my arm.”
“Please,” Genma cooed, playing along with the opening that Kakashi had unexpectedly provided him with.
But even with all that had been said and done in the encounter, Kakashi’s anticipation at seeing the coveted arm was higher even than Genma’s. It should’ve been that way - but there had been too much fear, too many broken hopes and the infinite pool of everything in-between for him to want to know. Now that the evidence of what he’d been praying for for years now was right in front of him, he was at a loss for what to do. Waiting the ten seconds it took for the woman to delicately roll her yukata sleeve up were ten of the longest in his lifetime.
What could they do though, even if she was by chance, Sakura? Surely, they were no medic-nin, but even Kakashi knew that amnesia beyond a few years was too far gone to have any hope for salvation. And what right, did they have to pull her away from the shreds of reality that she had formed for herself? The happiness permeating her bright emeralds was a thing that cannot be learned, a happiness he was sure would dissolve should memories of her rightful life return to her.
So when the telltale swirl of one’s blood oath with Konoha’s deadliest branch came into view, Kakashi had none of the relief and happiness to show for her survival. Everything was too complicated now. It was as she said; she was not Sakura, but Ayako now. He could not have hoped for his comrade to come to the same conclusion, blinded he was by the euphoric high that seeing Sakura again had brought. A short “thank you, Ayako-san” was all Kakashi could offer the baffled woman, as he all but dragged Genma away from the scene.
Back in the alley, two identical man, save for their hair colours, stood in absolute shock at what they had witnessed. It had not been deteriorating eyesight that led them to see the ANBU tattoo they both wore proudly mirrored on the hotel clerk’s arm, and suddenly, her odd hair colour wasn’t so odd anymore.
It had been carelessness that brought them to forgetting Kakashi’s old team in the investigation of this matter. And even though they had been mere children back then, no one could forget the fearsome twosome (plus one, missing somewhere in the abyss) that had caught the world by storm.
Bright, optimistic Uzumaki Naruto, the mighty Rokudaime-sama, Kyuubi vessel and only descendant of the loved Yondaime-sama. He had been the light of Konoha, the black horse and brightest jewel all in one. Even in the then eight year old Dai’s war torn memories, visions of the blonde bringing hope back were all too present.
And then there had been Haruno Sakura, the fearsome Godaime-sama’s revered apprentice, labelled as the best known medic in all countries around with the scariest right hook of anyone, anywhere, known by her delicate, unique shade of hair. Her unbreakable love for Konoha was one thing no one could ever forget.
It had been with great grief, remorse, angst and everything caught in-between that the citizens of Konoha, shinobi and civilians alike buried these two great shinobi, saviours of Konoha in different ways. It had not been public knowledge that Sakura’s body had never been found, and had Dai not seen the woman with his own eyes, he would’ve very well never believed it.
But as it were, Haruno Sakura was very much alive.
-
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What about you? That’s Sakura - don’t even try to deny it. As a shinobi of the leaf, you have a duty to bring her back,” Genma said, a little exasperated, and a lot frustrated. The slight pause in his words allowed for his carefully barraged anger to filter through, even if it was minimal. “Don’t you want her back?”
“There are exceptions.”
“Exceptions?” Genma sputtered, disbelief colouring his boyishly handsome features. “Am I talking to Kakashi here?”
“It’s for the best,” Kakashi paused, turning his face away from his long-time comrade. “It’s best for her, like this.”
“Best for her? Best for her? Do you hear yourself?” Genma hissed, nearly losing enough control to want to shake some sense into Kakashi. “She belongs in Konoha.”
“This type of life fits her,” Kakashi replied, twisting himself around completely to face the balcony. The repetitive crashing of waves chorusing in the background nearly drowned out the harsh tones of their conversation, and maybe it was the magical harmony of his words with the melody of the waves, but in that moment, Genma understood what he was saying.
And once it finally dawned on him, it shamed him so completely to remember his complete loss of control just seconds ago. Kakashi, still tracing the movement of the water beneath seemed to be in another world altogether, and paid no heed to his friend’s sudden silence.
“So this is it?” Genma asked, the little bits of hope he had harboured edging away as quickly as they had formed. “You’re sure about this?”
If Kakashi made any reply to the simple question that would decide their entwining fates forever, Genma heard only the crashing of waves down below. But in his mind, the silence could not have screamed yes more if the distant man had said yes in the most extravagant of tones.
It was yet another silent piece of evidence of Kakashi’s selflessness, a virtue he liked to tuck away behind his impenetrable wall of aloof tardiness. But Genma knew better. The last five years, sixty months, one thousand, eight hundred and twenty days of suffering that Kakashi had been forced to wallow in was unlike any other, a sort of pain indescribable and incomparable to any other. And salvation was so close; the smiling face with sparkling emeralds, and a laughter to chime like the wind. She had been right in front of them, within reach, within touching distance.
But it had been exactly that, Genma knew, that caused Kakashi to make the decision he did. Here, without the shackles of war, and the heart break of a broken home, she could be whole and free to love, live and laugh. The pretty smile she wore for her friends here, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes was something Konoha could no longer offer her - at least not now, anyway.
A small wayward sigh, barely perceptible even to his own ears escaped his lips then, and the only sound left to mingle in the room was the soft click of the door swinging shut behind him. Both men needed time to mourn the loss of Haruno Sakura all over again, but even as understanding and bittersweet acceptance crushed the feelings of disappointment within, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being kissed by the unforgiving lips of despair felt like.
Because now, while the blooming hope of Sakura still walking amongst their world had blossomed and flowered, the even more important light of belief of her returning home had extinguished itself forever.
Characters: Hatake Kakashi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: o26. the sound of waves & cliché: o3. amnesia & o39. beyond the horizon
Word Count: 3235
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Warning: Cliché and overly used theme of amnesia (my excuse being its written for my cliché mi table)
Notes: Written for 30_kisses & mission_insane & 500themes . Prompt tables are here & here & here. This is only part one of several (probably two or three) parts. Enjoy!
-
“We’ll stop at that town for the night,” the commander’s voice buzzed through the earpiece, and behind him, three exhausted bodies nearly sagged with relief. Their fear of showing weakness before their sometimes ruthless, sometimes carefree, and always depressed (he hid it well, but they spent too much time together not to notice) leader forbid them for actually relieving themselves of the motion. But their gratitude to the silver-haired, reinstated ANBU was at its peak, for letting them at least have a bed, crappy as it may be, to sleep on after a mission like this.
“Aren’t we really close to the ocean?” the latest addition to their team questioned nonchalantly as they sped towards the small gate.
“Yeah, which means we’re really far from home,” a disgruntled voice cut in, pumping more chakra into his abused legs. Kakashi’s silhouette was barely still visible on the horizon, and as much as he trusted his old friend on the battlefield, Genma knew that there were far too many wounds still bleeding for that man to be okay.
Already, five springs had come and gone. It was enough time for a child to grow and blossom into a state of almost-maturity, where angelic smiles and toothy laughs lose themselves to time, but Genma knew that Kakashi’s wounds would still be bleeding, even if the five springs had multiplied into thirty.
The war had been harsh on everyone - too many things were lost, and even more were sacrificed. Kakashi’s endless history of outliving everyone around him had manifested again in the worst possible form, and the lives that had joined the immortal memory of Obito and Rin and everyone else were ones he never wished to add.
Sasuke, because he was first - not that Kakashi felt he deserved any amounts of remorse, but it was the simple acknowledgement of failure that kept him in the habit of including a short mention of his name every morning. Naruto, because he was the saviour - like the Fourth that he had always respected, the blonde man had made the ultimate sacrifice to save everything so dear to him. Perhaps it had been destiny, but the trade of his life for the lives of the worst enemies of state was one the optimistic blonde had made without hesitation.
And then there was Sakura. Sakura, because she was the only girl, because there was too much remorse, too much regret and too many apologies to the cerise coloured woman for him to not include her. But there was also too much hope, hope he knew he couldn’t afford to have.
The bodies of Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto had been given a special grave, maybe because of Tsunade’s evident fondness for the blonde, or because of her final trickles of pity for her successor’s endless pool of broken dreams, but stripping the optimistic child of his last wish was something the Godaime was not capable of. It had been no extravagant secret that for the remainder of their life, the two left behind members of Team Seven struggled with all their will to be reunited with their lost counterpart. No matter how many times he tried to take their lives with him, it simply wasn’t enough to kill their relentless hope.
So it was with a bittersweet smile that the Godaime said her parting words to the two best friends, brothers in a sense, as she laid them in the ground. The Team Seven gravesite - it was an honour never heard of before, but they had always been a special threesome. On the plaque, the three names adorned it made anyone’s heart from their generation bleed, but the last one - Haruno Sakura - was but an empty lie on polished marble.
Or so he liked to tell himself - KIA, she had been deemed. The war had been too brimmed with chaos for anyone to be sure of what happened to her, but her body never was found. It had been suspicious, for sure - the Godaime’s precious apprentice, with flamboyant pink hair...surely, finding her amongst the rubble should’ve been an easy task. And so the hope he knew he should never nurture grew inside him. MIA, not KIA, he insisted fervently to himself.
But five years had drifted by, 1826 days of saying his prayers to the people that have left him behind, and no still no sight of coral flavoured hair to wake him from his depression.
“One room,” he said to the clerk, and the young man jerked awake, the drool from his doze still lingering on his chin.
“Sure,” he mumbled, not quite recovered from his dazed sleep.
Behind Kakashi, the three remaining members of ANBU Squad Five trickled in, eyes bleary behind their porcelain masks. They made quite a sight, in the small inn that was the only one of its kind in the small seaside town. In the decor of homely wood, surprisingly decent furniture and no peeling paint, they stuck out more than blotches of pink in an inky mass would.
“364 ryo please,” the clerk muttered lazily, and Kakashi was hard pressed to believe that there was a legitimate pricing scheme behind the 364 he was currently handing over. In his current state of near-unconsciousness, Kakashi was more ready to believe that the young man had pulled the number from the random abyss of his mind. “Thanks. Room 213, to your right.”
But Kakashi said nothing to complain as he took the key in exchange for the small stack of money. His three subordinates had already begun the trudge to their temporary haven, but Kakashi’s sluggish steps were halted by the soprano “Eiji-kun!” that drifted from somewhere behind him.
Five steps in front of him, Genma froze in his trek as well. Both jaded men whipped their heads around to face the source of the voice, and if it weren’t for the senbon falling from Genma’s slack lips, the two remaining, newer members of the team might not have noticed that their seniors had been rendered dumbstruck by something.
“...Sakura?” Genma whispered, voice raspy after such long negligence. He couldn’t help the that legs rushed him forward, towards the emerald eyed woman, his own chocolate orbs drinking her alive image in. “Sakura!”
She blinked her pretty eyes up at him, and tilted it sideways to study him more. It took her a full fifteen seconds to utter anything, but when she did, the disappointment that coursed through both men were like such they had never felt before.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a smile with all her apologies in it. “But do we know each other?”
Do we know each other?
...do we know each other?
Genma staggered backwards at her words, at the heavy implication of her words. Granted, the ANBU mask and uniform somewhat hindered her ability to identify them, but the hitai-ate should’ve been a dead giveaway. But she didn’t know, or didn’t remember. Did it really matter? he wondered momentarily before shooting a wayward glance at the still-silent Kakashi.
“My name is Ayako,” she continued, the smile still flirting with her lips. “You are...?”
“Leaving,” Kakashi’s voice interrupted from behind. Even through the double layer covering his face, Genma could see clearly from his lone eye the disapproving undertone. All the swallowed feelings from the past five years of everything were gulped down with that one word, and like an obedient subordinate, Genma turned away.
Shoulders tense and memories resurfacing, the two men stalked stiffly towards Room 213, leaving in their wake two baffled ANBU and two even more baffled hotel clerks.
-
“Where’s the Captain?” Akio commented lightly, the relaxed grin melting into his boyishly handsome features.
“Out,” Genma replied, with none of the former’s ease in that one word. “We’re going to delay our journey one day here.”
“Really?” the newly inaugurated teen beamed. “So we can go out to the beach? And hit the springs here?”
The two others received his enthusiasm with matching blankness on their contrastingly handsome features. The blonde never failed to exhaust their surprise for his penchant for playfulness, and Genma allowed himself a small laugh, forced as it may have been, for the fifteen year old. “Yeah, but you know the rules, boys.”
Akio’s twin, the polar opposite of the sun-filled blonde still beaming at their unexpected vacation shot Genma a quizzical stare, but dared not voice his thoughts. They had only been working with the two jaded men for two months, and without familiarity to fall back onto, he had no right by protocol to question their decisions or motives. With a sharp nod for the blonde talking excitedly and the brunette ignoring him pointedly, Genma swept out of the room in a flurry of charcoal gear.
“Let’s go to the springs - I saw it last night on our way here!” Akio said in a near yell. The annoyed glare his brother was shooting at him in daggers did nothing to stop the boy from dragging the reluctant latter out, mouth still working a mile a minute.
“Idiot,” Dai muttered. “You do realize that we’re supposed to be undercover?”
“Oh, you heard Genma-senpai!” Akio pouted up at the serious boy. “We’re taking a break today. Don’t act like such a stick in the mud all the time!”
“How is it that you made it into ANBU again?”
“Oh, that’s low, isn’t it?” Akio laughed. “Besides, everyone knows I’m better than you.”
“Not even in your wildest dreams, o-tou-to,” Dai smirked, triumphant. The age card was always the trump card in their childish banters, if the pout Akio was shooting him was any indication.
“Only by one minute and seventeen seconds!”
“Whatever, it’s not like-”
“Wait, shh!” Akio interrupted suddenly, the playfulness in his voice gone. Dai complied wordlessly. If he’d learned anything in the fifteen years of their relationship, it was that when Akio got serious, then you were damn well sure that it was serious. Before he’d had time to react, his brother had pulled him back behind the alley they’d just emerged from. “Look!” he hissed.
Following the discreet finger jabbed in a general north-east direction, Dai’s gaze travelled until it settled finally on the cause of Akio’s sudden mood swing. Sure enough, standing in front of the coffee shop were their two superiors, and the pretty hotel clerk with the oddest hair they’d ever seen. To untrained eyes, it would’ve seemed like two men making harmlessly casual conversation with a woman, but from the twins’ point of view, the tension was so thick in the air that even they felt nearly suffocated.
The hushed baritones were barely discernable over the distance, but with ears perked and strained to their maximum, the curious twins barely made out the basic gist of the conversation. Akio, confused by the double implications of every new line their teammates uttered could understand little else. It was only with the edges of Dai’s slowly enlightening face that Akio could bear to not blurt out a string of questions. If they were doing something perfectly acceptable before, they certainly weren’t now. Being caught spying on one’s superiors was simply something the brothers had no wish of, especially considering just who these men were.
“I’m sorry,” the pretty woman’s soprano drifted over softly, and even under his cool facade, Dai could feel every edge of the alluring quality in her magical voice. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand, I’m Ayako, as I told you before. I live here, and I’ve always lived here.”
“If you could just let us see your right bicep-”
“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” Kakashi cut in. Even with his back facing the two snooping in the alley, they could imagine perfectly well the infamous crinkle of his eye and curve of his lips under his ever-present mask. But the woman, now smiling delicately with a bit of wayward fear for the men did not pick up on the tense battle between the two men with their double standard words. “He’s recently been through a bit of trauma.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she accompanied her words with another smile - a little sad, for the words that had just been bestowed upon her. “If it’ll make you feel better, I see no harm in showing you my arm.”
“Please,” Genma cooed, playing along with the opening that Kakashi had unexpectedly provided him with.
But even with all that had been said and done in the encounter, Kakashi’s anticipation at seeing the coveted arm was higher even than Genma’s. It should’ve been that way - but there had been too much fear, too many broken hopes and the infinite pool of everything in-between for him to want to know. Now that the evidence of what he’d been praying for for years now was right in front of him, he was at a loss for what to do. Waiting the ten seconds it took for the woman to delicately roll her yukata sleeve up were ten of the longest in his lifetime.
What could they do though, even if she was by chance, Sakura? Surely, they were no medic-nin, but even Kakashi knew that amnesia beyond a few years was too far gone to have any hope for salvation. And what right, did they have to pull her away from the shreds of reality that she had formed for herself? The happiness permeating her bright emeralds was a thing that cannot be learned, a happiness he was sure would dissolve should memories of her rightful life return to her.
So when the telltale swirl of one’s blood oath with Konoha’s deadliest branch came into view, Kakashi had none of the relief and happiness to show for her survival. Everything was too complicated now. It was as she said; she was not Sakura, but Ayako now. He could not have hoped for his comrade to come to the same conclusion, blinded he was by the euphoric high that seeing Sakura again had brought. A short “thank you, Ayako-san” was all Kakashi could offer the baffled woman, as he all but dragged Genma away from the scene.
Back in the alley, two identical man, save for their hair colours, stood in absolute shock at what they had witnessed. It had not been deteriorating eyesight that led them to see the ANBU tattoo they both wore proudly mirrored on the hotel clerk’s arm, and suddenly, her odd hair colour wasn’t so odd anymore.
It had been carelessness that brought them to forgetting Kakashi’s old team in the investigation of this matter. And even though they had been mere children back then, no one could forget the fearsome twosome (plus one, missing somewhere in the abyss) that had caught the world by storm.
Bright, optimistic Uzumaki Naruto, the mighty Rokudaime-sama, Kyuubi vessel and only descendant of the loved Yondaime-sama. He had been the light of Konoha, the black horse and brightest jewel all in one. Even in the then eight year old Dai’s war torn memories, visions of the blonde bringing hope back were all too present.
And then there had been Haruno Sakura, the fearsome Godaime-sama’s revered apprentice, labelled as the best known medic in all countries around with the scariest right hook of anyone, anywhere, known by her delicate, unique shade of hair. Her unbreakable love for Konoha was one thing no one could ever forget.
It had been with great grief, remorse, angst and everything caught in-between that the citizens of Konoha, shinobi and civilians alike buried these two great shinobi, saviours of Konoha in different ways. It had not been public knowledge that Sakura’s body had never been found, and had Dai not seen the woman with his own eyes, he would’ve very well never believed it.
But as it were, Haruno Sakura was very much alive.
-
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What about you? That’s Sakura - don’t even try to deny it. As a shinobi of the leaf, you have a duty to bring her back,” Genma said, a little exasperated, and a lot frustrated. The slight pause in his words allowed for his carefully barraged anger to filter through, even if it was minimal. “Don’t you want her back?”
“There are exceptions.”
“Exceptions?” Genma sputtered, disbelief colouring his boyishly handsome features. “Am I talking to Kakashi here?”
“It’s for the best,” Kakashi paused, turning his face away from his long-time comrade. “It’s best for her, like this.”
“Best for her? Best for her? Do you hear yourself?” Genma hissed, nearly losing enough control to want to shake some sense into Kakashi. “She belongs in Konoha.”
“This type of life fits her,” Kakashi replied, twisting himself around completely to face the balcony. The repetitive crashing of waves chorusing in the background nearly drowned out the harsh tones of their conversation, and maybe it was the magical harmony of his words with the melody of the waves, but in that moment, Genma understood what he was saying.
And once it finally dawned on him, it shamed him so completely to remember his complete loss of control just seconds ago. Kakashi, still tracing the movement of the water beneath seemed to be in another world altogether, and paid no heed to his friend’s sudden silence.
“So this is it?” Genma asked, the little bits of hope he had harboured edging away as quickly as they had formed. “You’re sure about this?”
If Kakashi made any reply to the simple question that would decide their entwining fates forever, Genma heard only the crashing of waves down below. But in his mind, the silence could not have screamed yes more if the distant man had said yes in the most extravagant of tones.
It was yet another silent piece of evidence of Kakashi’s selflessness, a virtue he liked to tuck away behind his impenetrable wall of aloof tardiness. But Genma knew better. The last five years, sixty months, one thousand, eight hundred and twenty days of suffering that Kakashi had been forced to wallow in was unlike any other, a sort of pain indescribable and incomparable to any other. And salvation was so close; the smiling face with sparkling emeralds, and a laughter to chime like the wind. She had been right in front of them, within reach, within touching distance.
But it had been exactly that, Genma knew, that caused Kakashi to make the decision he did. Here, without the shackles of war, and the heart break of a broken home, she could be whole and free to love, live and laugh. The pretty smile she wore for her friends here, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes was something Konoha could no longer offer her - at least not now, anyway.
A small wayward sigh, barely perceptible even to his own ears escaped his lips then, and the only sound left to mingle in the room was the soft click of the door swinging shut behind him. Both men needed time to mourn the loss of Haruno Sakura all over again, but even as understanding and bittersweet acceptance crushed the feelings of disappointment within, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being kissed by the unforgiving lips of despair felt like.
Because now, while the blooming hope of Sakura still walking amongst their world had blossomed and flowered, the even more important light of belief of her returning home had extinguished itself forever.