Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tell me, father,
which to ask forgiveness for:

what I am or what I'm not?

Tell me, mother,
which should I regret:

what I became or what I didn't?

May 3031, 2 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"Kakashi, this is the last time." 

"You say that every time, but you always come back." 

"I am not coming back this time. This shouldn't happen." 

"Maybe not, but it did and it does and is it really that bad?" 

"It is the last time." 

"You always come back, Sakura. You know that." 

"Not anymore. I won't do this anymore. This isn't... we shouldn't have ever begun with this, in the first place." 

"But we did and the harm is already done." 

"Kakashi." She sighed. "I am not coming back. I am final." 

"Why? Sakura, come one. It... it isn't bad. You know it." 

"Isn't it?" 

"I know and I am — hum, actually, I'm not really sorry, but if I say I am would make you feel better?" 

"No, it wouldn't. And no —" She put her finger over his masked lips, a hard look in her eyes. "It wouldn't change my mind either.” Sakura took a deep breath, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have done it in the first place" 

"Ei," Kakashi reached for her hand and squeezed it, his eyes creasing on a true smile beneath and it was warm as the sun bathed them in the early morning. "I convinced you. If there's anyone to blame, it would be me. But you did it 'cause you care about me and that's why you always come back." 

She finally gave him half smile, half smirk, but her voice sounded much less grump then she intended. 

"Jerk."

He smiled brighter. 

Those smiles were so rare that she didn't wanna miss a single second of it. Maybe it was worth it, after all. Maybe. 

"But it's true!" She knew that even beneath the mask there was a bloody smirk, full of smugness and she rolled her eyes because she wasn't to lose her battle just because he was smiling.

"You always tell people you manipulated them into something?" 

"Sometimes." 

"Cocky smartass." 

He shrugged. "What can I do if my charms are irresistible?" 

"Yep, that's it. I'm not coming back." 

"Sakura, come on. It isn't that bad. It isn't wrong. You know that." 

"But you are literally using me!" 

"No, I am not. I would never. I just directed you here." 

"Kakashi, I mean it. I am not doing this any more" 

"Sakura- a" he sang, the bastard "You know how much I hate hospitals." 

"Then you should be more careful." 

"Hm, ninja?" He pointed at himself as he was (as always) explaining something to a five year kid. A dumb five year kid. 

"I really hate when you use that tone" 

"Which tone?" Kakashi asked with all the innocence in the world. Sakura just rolled her eyes 

"Your days with a private doctor are over, Hatake." 

"You still didn't tell me which tone." He had those puppy eyes and she didn't know if the pack taught him that or if it was the other way round. 

"The “I am trying to explain something obvious to a dumb piece of shit of a human being”."

"That's harsh. How can you accuse your sensei of treating you like that?" 

"You get off annoying me." She stood up from the tip of his bed and started to pack her medi kit. "And, as a punishment, you will do your physicals in the hospital next time." 

"Sakura!" He stood up as well, too fast 'cause he hissed in pain. "Don't be so mean. I won't do my physicals ever again if I have to go a-aaall" he stretched the word begging "the way there." He really looked like a puppy. "And why am I still in pain?" 

"You live closer to the hospital than me!" She yelled from over her shoulder, washing her hands in the bathroom sink. 

(One day her heart wouldn't threaten to choke her every time she saw that amount of blood over him. She couldn't break down. It was not an option.) 

"And you came back in a really fucked up condition. I can't take the pain away and you should know that by now." He knew she should've been giving him the look now. "As I told you a thousand times." 

"See?, that's another reason for you to come back." He just plain ignored what she said. The voice of her wiping her hands in the towel became louder. "You don't have to go aaa ll the way to the hospital. You can just stop and check on me! It is a clear win/win situation." 

"I am not coming back." Sakura said leaning on the door, her stained blouse hanging on her arm that was crossed in front of her chest. 

"Yes, you are." He said, barely audible, a cocky tone in his smug smile. 

She stepped into the room, her hair falling into her face hardly from the braid 

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing." He threw himself back again in the bed, stretching (a low hiss of pain), a hand under his head, his ankles crossed and opened Make Out however-volume-it-was. 

"Do you really have to read your porn while I am still here?" 

"It is not porn." 

"Yes, it is." 

"Nope." 

"You're such an idiot." 

Sakura shook her head and walked away, tossing her blouse into his face. He almost choked on that. A smile crossed her face. It was supposed to be grim, but it only came out affectionate. 

"What is wrong with reading a masterpiece while your friend is roasting you and threatening you to die alone in his apartment?" He shouted, seeming truly hurt. 

"God. How do I manage to have so much patience with you?" 

"You don't really have a lot of patience. You punch me and then heal me. You punch really hard, did I ever tell you that? An old man like me could die." 

“Thought you said just last week you weren’t out when Genma tried to beat you at a drink contest.”

She rolled her eyes again and went straight to the kitchen, leaving her bag on the counter.

“And did he beat me?” He sounded like was rolling to be at his stomach, to read like a teenager. Old man her ass, indeed. 

“Score.” 

She could hear his laugh coming from the other room and all that bullshit she pulled through was worthy. How many years that man was left there, at this very apartment, only with his pack, laughing at nothing but Jiraya’s books only to his laugh die seconds later when he realised how alone he was? 

(Sakura would never know how many times he lay there at night, at the very kitchen floor, unable to be at his feet to make it to the bathroom, the whole spinning and he was sick of feeling sick for the tenth time in the night. He considered not turning to the side the next time another wave of nausea came and just choked in his vomit. 

Bull turned him to the side and he didn’t choke. 

He wish he did.)

Sakura would pull through his attitude any day, any time, for how long it was necessary if that meant he would be better. Even if it was at her expense.

Taking a melodramatic, too high sigh. “But I am too young to die for the hands of your fridge, Hatake.”

“Fridges don’t have hands, dear Sakura.”

She breathed out fuck you and entered the kitchen. The fridge didn’t have hands, but it really competed with Naruto’s. As a medic and a normal human being, she didn’t know how they were alive. And they kept the stupid bullshit about her soldier pills. 

Ungrateful radioactive ninjas. 

She leaned in front of the fridge and decided to open it, hoping it wasn’t that bad. 

"Ok, you bitch, what are we gonna have for lunch today?" She said while inspecting his fridge in record time and closed it within two seconds, covering her nose. “Holy Baby Jesus on a stick.” It was worse than she thought. She yelled over the porch. “How are you still alive? There's food that's been here before I was even born." (She ignored how many bottles were there and how they were the only thing organized.)

"That's not true!" He shouted evenly from the bedroom and she could see his sensei finger correcting her. "I had to buy a new fridge after the last time you tried to punch me and I dodged — so you murdered” she rolled her eyes so hard she thought they would never come back. “cold blooded my fridge. And the wall. And my bathroom sink." 

"Your bathroom sink?” She shrieked. “I broke your bathroom sink because I broke the fridge?" She was already at the cabinets, looking for something in the expiration date or not canned beans because she had the theory that after a while your body simply rejects the canned beans the moment it sees it. “We” we “have to fix these cabinets. I swear to God this whole place is just going to fall over your head when you walk through the door.”

"Yep. When you shattered my beloved kitchen wall and you made a lot of dust and cement fall all over my sink." His voice was between undisturbed and humorous. “And I only come through the window.”

Of course he only came through the window. 

(The flip of pages was background noise, which is something he never thought he’d experience in his own house. Walking down the street, teaching those diabolical things and even at small fights, the rest was background noise, not his book. But with Sakura teasing him about his fridge and wanting to fix things to make it more comfortable for it, it was something he thought he’d die without.  

He was used to laughing among Jiraya and himself, the boys at his feet, a bottle or another. Those laughs die painfully in your chest when they echo in the empty room and you choke back on tears that haven't fallen for years. Depression, despite what people say, doesn't hit you in the face like a brick straight in the face only at 2 AM when you’re alone thinking too much. It hit him harder so many times when he laughed to himself in the middle of the village and he looked up and realised all those people, all those lives he saved didn’t need him. In his group of friends he could leave, turn into shadows and no one would notice. That’s what he did the whole time. So the flip of pages was louder than anything else, but now it was background noise.)  

"You're saying I ruined your sink because dust fell over it? Dust, Kakashi? Gaara would be hurt.” She prayed he would never tell Gaara she compared sand and dust. He would forever tease her about that. “And you need new glasses and dishes ‘n shit like that. These are probably The First’s Era — or even before." 

"Gaara’s dust” The fucker said “and probably half of the content in the fridge, all splashed over my poor sink. And if they're that old, aren’t they relics and untouchable and holy?" 

"Kakashi," She turned around and leaned on the kitchen sink, making mental notes to buy new dishes. "all the content on that fridge could've been radioactive, but since, as you say, I shattered the thing, I probably saved your bathroom cause you were obliged to reform it.” She crouched to look at the lower cabinets. “And no, they’re not holy. It seems rats moved nests around here." 

"Do you know how expensive it was to fix a fridge, a wall and a bathroom? All of them with poisoned radioactive food?" His voice was aiming into deadpan, but he was failing so badly, because she could almost taste the smile in it. She smiled back to the cobwebs decorating the cupboard.

"I do know, cause I was the one that paid for the reform!" 

"But the landlord yelled at me only for almost ruining the building and killing everyone inside 'cause the walls fell due the impact of this beautifully mortal small hand." 

"Are you trying to flatter me by complimenting my hands?" She looked at her hands, turning them around and gave them a proud look. 

"You're checking your hands right now, aren't you?" 

"Wa — how did you know?" 

"I was bluffing." 

"Smartass." She said under her breath, her head almost inside the cupboard trying to see if there was anything worth saving. (There wasn’t.)

"I heard it." He sang.

"What, how — " She got to her feet, cleaning her hands on her pants, dust rising in the air. "And the landlord yelled at me 'cause you vanished as soon as you heard footsteps. And get out of the fucking bed, already. You’re helping me with — whatever we’re gonna do for lunch." 

She was pouring glasses of water to both of them, eyeing the sake and wondering if it was really that early to drink. She had a rough week and it was past midday already.

"Well, you see, there was a poor pigeon being harassed by an evil fat cat and I had-" 

"Yeah, yeah. Any of your excuses involve something else, not animals?" 

"Well, next time I can say I was late 'cause I was having a nice rough sex and lost tracking of time." 

Sakura choked on the water she was drinking in a small glass she was sure one was home of some pickles. A second later he was leaving on the kitchen door, the book open in his hands, but he was staring at her with a devilish grin. 

She didn't need to see his face to know he was giving the "flirting look" that made everyone turn into a pool. A look that said explicitly you and would always cause shivers on the spine of those caught by surprise. Sakura, at this point, rolled her eyes. 

Sakura was way too used to that look. She knew how to use hers — even though Kakashi was much, much better, the fucker. Kunoichi learns to pick flowers, throw shuriken, never be stronger than boys and seduce. Yeah, they teach that shit in school.

She saw him giving that look dozens of times. Was it to seduce/convince a client, an enemy, anyone to fall over his feet and give them whatever they needed; was it to pick girls at bars; was it to her in an infiltration mission. 

(There was a particular infiltration mission that was standard protocol. They didn’t have to pose much as husband and wife, share the bed, fall in love. But he gave her that look. He held on more time than it was necessary and Sakura understood there why it was all that women and men fell. She felt the urge to laugh, but it would ruin the disguise — even ruin the moment, some would say, but there was no moment, not with them, not in their life. Not for Sakura. Not after that. They were as close as two bodies can be, inside a broom closet, just for the cliche, his eyes so deep into hers and hers drinking out of him. The warmth of his body was what kept the temperature of hers rising, like a fever that gives you hallucinations, but you (should) get off of it, you (supposedly) don’t take a cold shower —Sakura couldn't move. She couldn't take the cold shower. The temperature was rising. Rising too much. It was afire.

She 

was

going

to

fucking

die

It was Kakashi, she knew it was him, that his hand wouldn't waver or she wouldn't feel him against her thigh, but her heart was beating too fast. She wanted to explode the closet and burn from inside out just for it to cease.

She hadn't been close another man ever since —

So, she did what she did best: deflect.

Sakura asked herself if she was attracted to him. Sakura asked herself if she was attracted to men because she didn't give much thought — she just once had an obsession over Sasuke and casual sex. Sakura remembered all the porn she read and asked if she wanted to: 

"pull him even more closer, to taste him, 

in the first two seconds, her reverie lost Kakashi's form — or didn't. Sakura had already her pills and they were taking its toll. She was just straight porn thinking in the middle of the mission

"run her hands over every part of that body she could manage. Slam the person into a wall and leave traces with her nails, claiming, feeling under her clutch all she could take from him. Rip him apart, to destroy him, to leave no traces behind. Taste every swell of tongue and skin, bath on sweat and raw flesh. Knees get weak, tear you apart. Shred any trait of clothes and admire the sight with her bare hands."

At the end of the fantasy she knew she wanted to, but not necessarily with Kakashi or with a man or with a woman.

Remembering all the porn movies, she saw:

them (man, woman, Kakashi, that guy in the library, that girl from the pub, is she even straight?) moving towards each other. Saw that any surface, the walls, trees, tables, snow, would be enough for that. There would be no dirt, guilty feeling afterwards. It would all be washed in tremors of hands and rolls of eyes.

But the Black Ops crashed the door and finished the mission.

Fucking ANBU)

She handed him another glass of water — probably once a small eggs' home. 

"You look sexy like that, ya know?" 

This time it was Kakashi that choked on the water and was shaken by harsh coughs. Openly laughing Sakura patted him in the back to help the swallowing process and just for the sake of hitting him. 

"Ok, ok, thank you, you are kind of cutting my reserves of oxygen, thank you." 

"I can't cut your oxygen by patting you in the back." 

"You were trying.” He coughed once more, his hand on his chest as if he was just saved from being drowned. Typical. “You were spanking my back. I swear to God I've fallen on floors that hurt less." 

"Where did you learn how to be so dramatic?"

“They used to have classes about it in the Academy?”

“Oh, during the War?”

He just gave her the middle finger. She just laughed going back to the oven, deciding that the eggs in his fridge wouldn't kill them. If they were that bad, she was still a medic and she could save their lives. Although it was no surprise he had the equivalent of the fuck's he give to everything in life in his cabinets for flavoring, she tried her luck. 

Kakashi cleared his throat, trying to regain her attention, looking her dead in the eye, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing at her, putting on his best scary stare. Sakura just lifted an eyebrow looking at him over her shoulder while she was busy toasting bread (she hoped that was actual bread, but it looked okay enough) and cracking eggs. 

She held back the stare and started to giggle. At first he was as impassive as a door, but slowly he laughed a little and she knew his eye crease was sincere. 

"Didn't know you could get embarrassed by such a silly thing." 

"I wasn't embarrassed, I was shocked and I thought you didn't have the good taste to notice how incredibly handsome I am." Kakashi stated, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"All the handsomeness left any room for ego control?" 

Even with her back to him, he knew she was rolling her eyes.

"Nope, not even a single bit." 

Sakura laughed again, shaking her head. 

"You are impossible." Was her favourite line.

"So I heard almost everyday from a marvellous, incredibly beautiful, unbelievably pretty, sexy —" she threw a wet towel at him "and hot" she threw a small empty sugar pot "ninja from the Sand." He finished the sentence in the best of his teasing voice.

This time she threw the toaster — that was still on and smacked some place into his living room. 

"Oh, a ninja from the Sand, uh? Let's hope she doesn't have any poison on her fighting arsenal. Or sand murder as Gaara's. Or wind that can cut you in two." 

"You're really mean." 

Sakura shrugged and turned to the oven. 

"Hey, I was just teasing. You wouldn't let me put "hot" and "sexy" in a sentence that involves you." 

Sakura felt the floor beneath her feet popple and closing her eyes would bring all the memories back — but the words still hurt.

"I wouldn't let it 'cause you wouldn't fucking mean it, Ka-ka-shi and my — my —" my very fucking raped core can't deal with faking flirting right now unless I kill you "self esteem is really fucked up right now, I am tired of this little stupid games, so thank you very much." Every word of hers was punctured with a stab with the fork in the frying eggs.

"Sakura," Kakashi said easily, she didn't look at him. "Sakura," He repeated with something almost sweet in his voice. Almost. "Sakura, look at me." 

She turned around and he could see the phantom of tears in her eyes even if she held her head high. "Sakura, you are going to make a hole in the oven if you keep torturing the eggs like that." 

Tsunade passed on a ferocity to her apprentice, that glowed pale blue in Sakura, being able to taste her chakra when she was mad — and she became furious. Sakura turned around and shut the fire off (actually, she kinda broke the button), storming to the living room, grabbing her spare medical kit on the way, not caring that she forgot her bag and was just taking the med kit. Kakashi stood in front of her, at the free expense of losing his limbs.

"Woah, calm down. I was kidding." Kakashi gave her his signature eye crinkle, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Sakura was staring at the floor trying to burn holes in his carpet since she had to stop stabbing the eggs. Her stomach didn't know what to do: feel threatened or angry? Rip him apart or punch him? Run and hide or crack his door on the way out?

"I was joking, ok? You really wouldn't like a compliment like that 'cause I know you value way more your hard work and achievements over something as vain as looks." He put both of his hands in her shoulders and didn't miss the way she flinched — his eyes grew darker in understanding, but the light came instantly making it look like stormy clouds and not the eye of a tornado — and almost crouched in front of her, taking one step back, and just ghosting his hands over her shoulder, lightly, to meet her eyesight.

Kakashi had to breathe in order to recompose his feelings. This shit was about Sakura, not about him. He couldn't just throw a joke at her face at the same time he couldn't force her to speak. It wasn't his place. It never had been. 

For a few seconds, he understood why Tsunade and Sakura always destroyed everything in their tantrums. He wanted to wipe out a whole country in his anger. 

"Come on, look at me, I think I will have cramps forever if I have to crouch in front of you for you to look at me." 

Kakashi knew.

"What a pity it would be." She said bitterly, still not looking at him 

"Well, it wouldn't be so bad. I know a medic nin that, man, she is the very best in her field and she would probably punch the cramp out of me." 

Sakura gave a small laugh and looked at him. 

"I can't really punch cramps away, but I would be willing to try." 

"Well, the next time I upset you I will let you try." 

"You wouldn't go that far just to make me feel good." 

Kakashi knew.

Sakura was raped. 

"Yes, I would. I would go lengths you can’t imagine for you to feel good." 

With that, silence made itself at home and they just stood staring at each other. 

It was funny how everything unravelled the last few years. The bonds that were created between people, even when the alliance broke. But it turned out to be dangerous the past few months. Everywhere was enemy territory. Every time you set foot on the road, you had to be on guard, because people were dying like flies. The number of casualties was hard to keep. 

Sakura's ANBU mask was pressing in her hip between herself and the door and it reminded her of the truth of the world outside: while they were joking and teasing each other, some seven year old child was dying, leaving his mother at home to wait for a son that would never return. She sighed and Kakashi gave her an understanding smile. It was crazy how much she learnt to read even with his mask on.

"I wonder where Naruto is."

"Wanna punch him?"

She just rolled her eyes.

"No, you twat. He just should've returned. His idiotic infiltration at Stone was… idiotic."

"He wouldn't let anyone take his place, Sakura. A is a personal matter now."

Oh, yeah, A. That man was a fucking nightmare. She was the one that was able to rip two more fingers off his hands almost two years ago when he turned around to kill Ino — and when Killer Bee turned his back against his own brother. He was now in protection, near the Uzumaki shrine.

Everything was out of place ever since Naruto left almost five months ago. Ao betrayed Mei and came to their side. She went on a rampage and almost destroyed the Village. Having me I as an ally is good thing; as an enemy is a fucking nightmare. And now Naruto was trying to clean the mess from the outside and they were trying to clean it from the inside. Sakura knew she would be the next one to leave as soon as Shizune returned. She was in the same platoon as Naruto's, even though hers followed East and Naruto kept on North. 

Shizune had to pick medicinal herbs  — that's what was on her scroll. She was gone to assassinate a diplomat and collect the poison of an almost extinguished clan that lived secluded in the mountains. They were being accused of siding with Madara in the War. Not even Kakashi gave her the details. 

They were at a very delicate time that could solve the entire War. As soon as Shizune and Naruto planted their feet inside the gates, they would analyse the outcome of their missions and run the possible strategies and propose a deal.

Madara was still out there. It seemed he would always be out there, now.

The attacks didn't cease and were harder and harder to predict. When they were convinced they were random, they found the pattern; when they found the pattern, it would go back to follow its own gourd. It was impossible to be 100% prepared. They covered all the fronts, keeping their highest shinobi always near, but they kept leaving in missions, never being able just to stay patrolling the borders and case scenarios like Naruto being gone happened just as well as Tobirama, Sakura, Tsunade, Hinata, Minato, Shikamaru, Kakashi himself and the list goes on. They didn't have the luxury to sit down and let the others do the dirty job.

Some places were better than others, some were at peace and some would be randomly attacked and they would lose many. That was their life now. 

"When will Minato come back? It is fucking terrible when both of them are gone.

And it was indeed. They controlled Kurama's chakra, so they were essential when enemies attacked, being their strongest weapon. They almost never went on missions simultaneously. 

Shit was going down the hole.

If they just killed the fucker from that clan — Tsunade had a particular distaste for them — maybe a peace offering would be considerable and they could ally again against Madara. They were all doomed if they kept fighting among themselves. 

Sakura looked around Kakashi's apartment and couldn't contain the smile when she took the view in: his minuscule bachelor apartment wasn't his for quite a while. Now, they all gathered there even if it was too crowded. It was the place to get smashed, tell stories, be their own princes in white horses, gamble all night, sing out tune, to get caught in the smoke of Shikamaru's smoke and Kakashi's cigarette, until you finally admit you smoke too — forget. Nicotine calms you down and you don't give a fuck anymore. After awhile, you are fucking your friends in the bathroom.

It happens. 

(Your brain is fried and you're looking down at your feet, seeing all the blood pooled around you, questioning how you are still alive. You cry but it feels dry and hurts your throat. You're alive to die again. The next moment you are fucking against a tree. When it is over, no one will call you back or ask for a date — even if you are that good of a fuck (sometimes of happens, and how deny it? A glass of water and a good fucking you deny nobody). It was adrenaline and the praise for being alive. You laugh out of despair. Sometimes you kiss, but mostly you don't — if you do, it is to devour others, just as life is. Some people fall in love, but most don't. It is a good exercise to get to know your comrades. And to know how crude life is. 

No one talks about it, though. A great part probably don't remember as they were drunk, high or just rather pretend they don't — and at some point everyone is okay with it. 

They don't talk about it, because if you don't it is like it never happened. 

What happened on the battlefield remains in the battlefield.)

"Sasuke."

Sakura turned around so abruptly she hit herself in the face with her own face. 

"What?!"

Did he knew she was thinking about people fucking each other in the battle field — and one (thrice) in the tent they shared. 

"Sasuke." Was all the man said, as always. If someone was to right a play about Kakashi, that focus on dialogue, that shit would have fucking 8 pages, if they were fucking lucky. 

"Sasuke?!"

Sasuke was filling his tea with his canteen, which she smashed with some lion, paperclip, candle.

"Sasuke what, fuck?"

And one about rage control wouldn't feat Sakura, not even as the girl that typed the words. 

"Sasuke tried to kiss me once."

"Sasuke did what?"

Sighing, Kakashi just went back to the kitchen to poke the tried eggs he had extinguished earlier, but they were already black circles with brown centers. That's sad. It was all he had. 

"When I was training him for the Chunnin Exams."

Sakura felt her eyes would pop out her eyebrows at any moment. 

"And what did you do?"

"Kissed him back." He turned back at her, and his eyes never seemed that hard and intended when directed at her. "I think I dislocated his shoulder when I pushed him." He sighed again, running his hand through his face. "I never had the courage to ask him why he did that."

"Well," Sakura was standing beside him, looking sully at the red, trying to cover the shim. "he never seemed to have any feelings for you." She shrugged. "Then again, he never seemed to have feelings at all — not deep ones, beside revenge and obsession with power."

"Sometimes I think he was trying to validate his existence. He never had feelings for me, that's for sure." Kakashi threw the egg in the trash bin.

"How so?"

Kakashi shrugged slowly, not turning back to face her, still holding the frying pan. "I don't know. Trying to prove something to himself, trying to be important, necessary, carry a secret, to leave a mark, to find a place in the world."

"You think… Sasuke was… gay?"

He turned around, blank and crowing at the same time. 

"No. Not really. He is more of an ameba. But he was a 13 year old alone, angry and confused and I managed to push him away even more."

"Kashi," Sakura Walker over him and put the frying pan in the kitchen sink, sitting on its clean and dry part "you can't kiss 13 year old boys so they can feel less lonely.

Kakashi rolled his eyes and leaned into the kitchen table, now eye-to-eye with Sakura.

"I know that." His oh so bored tone informed her. "I just — I should've done something for him, just as I should've done for Naruto. Both of them, I was too late. Always too late. For Sasuke, it's the least I could do something."

Sakura frowned. Kakashi was worse than a rock. Rocks cracked with her fists.  

Kakashi didn't crack, didn't break. Not for real. She couldn't blame him. 

With that, silence made itself at home and they just stood staring at each other.

"Your eyes look like Christmas lights."

Time stand still.

It was supposed to be a joke, but no one was laughing. 

The knocks became bangs in the door that threatened the wood to split. There were only four ninjas in that village with this strength: Sakura, Tsunade, Guy and Lee. When they read the chakra signature, Sakura thought she would faint. Tsunade herself was knocking on the door. 

He opened and the woman looked inside, her true age on her shoulders and a gaze of nothing but pain. Tsunade looked past him and stared at Sakura. 

"You weren't at your apartment, so I knew the only place you could've been was here." she clarified, her voice weak. 

It didn't sound like Tsunade at all. She was broken. Broken right in front of them. Broken, showing them that side she never showed anyone. Even Sakura hasn't seen her so haggard. 

"Shisou." Sakura started with a small voice, taking a step further in the direction of the door. 

Whatever Tsunade was about to say wasn't good. It was bad. Sakura went closer to Kakashi without even realising. In her unconscious mind she knew she would need him for support. He was always there to catch her when she fell. She could feel she was about to fall hard when she felt his chest on her back, both of them moved without realizing. 

"Shisou." Sakura tried again. She was terrified. It had to be something big if the woman herself was there to deliver the news. "What happened? Why are you here? What — what happened?" She pleaded. 

Once Tsunade said it, she wished she hadn't. She wished it was a terrible nightmare or a cruel prank or a dark ridiculous joke. She wished Tsunade didn't say it. She wished she was dead. 

Tsunade took a sigh and said the words that would haunt Sakura to her dying day. 

The Fifth Hokage said: "Sakura, it’s about Shizune” Sakura’s blood ran cold. No. No. Things were too bad already, she couldn't deal with losing Shizune. “and your mother.”

She saw her lips forming the dreaded words, sealing their fate, two new graves — the rest was white noise.

three years later

December 3035, 5 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

Kakashi was out of sake. That was his first thought as he woke up on the couch. His back hurt and his eyes burned, red sea and a grey stone sitting in the middle. He rubbed them, trying to rush the sleepiness away. Looking around his room he made a decision: it looked like shit. He, then made another: he was going to arrange some poor Gennin on a D class mission to fix his apartment. 

(He wished with all his might he could keep in giving everyone D rank missions. Even the elite shinobi. Go hunt cats and pick up fences, clean the Memorial Stone, fix the chairs he broke in the bar he went to last night. But the truth was he was going to send this Gennin to clean up his apartment and then to go to the perimeter to get used to it, then a small retrieve mission, then bigger, then to the battlefield. He was sacrificing children. They were. Again. It is an endless cycle and he hated himself with every single drop of himself for it. He tried to give them the best of training before they left, designing ANBU that were resting to take off strength and good will out of their asses to help those children. Not even once an ANBU said no. Not because it was an order, but because they knew what it was to die at 12. From the moment they were released from the hospital they picked up as much brats they could and did all they could to train them. There wasn't room for impatience or disliking kids anymore. Either you save lives or you stain your hands and tell their families you could've done something and didn't.) 

Running a hand over his face, feeling all the traits of his scar, he sat down to a flask on his fist. He ain't been sober since maybe October of last year. 

Looking all out of the window he wondered what would happen if he vanished for a while. The day was way too hot and he was already late. Really late. Considerably late. The elders bothered him to no end for what seemed months and months — it had been only six days — for a meeting. 

A meeting at 8 A.M. 

Really? 

It was 11:37 A.M. 

Who were they taking him for? 

a genius 

gen · ius / ˈ Jēnyəs / 

noun

1. exceptional intellectual or creative power or other natural ability. 

Similar: brilliance; great intelligence; great intellect; great ability; cleverness; brains; erudition; wisdom; sagacity; fine mind; wit; artistry; flair; creative power; precocity; precociousness; talent; gift; aptitude; facility; expertise capacity power faculty endowment strength strong point strong dexterity adroitness skill virtuosity 

Opposite: stupidity 

2. a person who is exceptionally intelligent or creative, either generally or in some particular respect. 

This word followed him his whole life, even when he failed everyone, everything. Even when he was called Friend-Killer Kakashi, Cold-Blooded Kakashi, even then, even thence. Kakashi Hatake, the prodigy, the genius. 

Where was that boy, that man now? He was sitting in his own vomit, at the feet of his students, whom he failed, with his best friend anchored, his death imminent. 

(and that was just the be·gin·ning 

/bəˈɡiniNG/ 

noun 

the point in time or space at which something starts.) 

Kakashi tried to get on his feet and regain his dignity, but it was all in vain. He just let Sakura drag him to the hospital. 

The first time of many. 

he was thirsty 

He thought about making some coffee, but decided against it. He went for a tea. 

Walking around the house to look for something clean to wear is always a hard task. Maybe he should call Sakura — nah. She would yell at him and say stuff about food and, and, and — a fucking shit load of thing he didn't want to hear at the moment. If he had the strength he could pop up at her place and steal some of his clothes he kept there, but he didn't remember her schedule for today and yeah. Not worth all the mess. He just went for another one of his standard clothes that it might seem that was all he had (it kinda was). 

The kettle buzzed and he made his tea with all the patience in the world. Making tea is something that always calms his nerves. 

His father taught him that and it was one of the few things connected to his father that didn't hurt. 

Despite all of this, when he tried his tea it tasted like shit so he just decided to mix it with some alcohol (3⁄4 alcohol, 1⁄4 tea) and that's it, life isn't fair, tea was worse than Naruto's soldier pills (he decided to improve Sakura's receipt and they went from tasting like shit and misery to taste like what would be cat's shit [it stink worse] with all your dreams being crashed right in front of your eyes). The alcohol didn't make it taste better, just gave him an excuse to drink it. 

After making his tea/booze ritual as slow as possible, he took a shower taking all the time in the world to appreciate how the soap works on the human body, how the water particles hit your skin, how the water evaporates, the way you go all goosebumps once you leave the warmth to grab your toil, how soft or raw it can feel. He looked at his face, at the gray beard trying to fight its way out his face, barely a stumble. He knew it was barely noticeable and it wasn't bothering him, but for the elders he decided he would shave it, to leave them to bathe in his aftershave cream. 

His clean face in the fogged mirror had a smirk that showed his crown feet. 

08.03.14 13:42 PM 

At precisely 13:42 PM he arrived at the Tower to meet up with the elders, his Hokage cloak in place, the hat obscuring his face. 

They had cancelled all of his meetings for the day. You see, being a Hokage sucks completely. You have tons of papers to sign, people keep appearing with petty excuses to fight, you have to travel for diplomatic reunions, you have meetings everyday about everything. 

As soon as Madara vanished, Tsunade almost woke him up with the hat shoved at his face followed by a festivity. A small celebration — what were they celebrating no one knew, but it was more an excuse to get drunk and have one night stands without guilt. He did the same. That night, no one was the real them. Naruto wasn't Naruto, Kakashi wasn't Kakashi, Hinata wasn't Hinata, Ino wasn't Ino, Tsunade wasn't Tsunade, Kurenai wasn't Kurenai, Genma wasn't Genma, Shikamaru wasn't Shikamaru and so on. Civilians were there. The Allied Forces were there. Everyone was there.

All they were could be summed up as soldiers, nameless people, bodies, tired bones, scarred people, trying to find something to hold onto, just for one night. 

It wasn't just about sex. It was about intimacy, about holding someone close when you were seconds away from death just a blink of an eye before. It was about loneliness, fear, gripping tight into something real before you suffocate. 

What happened that night stayed there. No one ever talked about that. It was like putting on a mask. (For Kakashi, it was like lowering the mask for a night.) 

He hadn't slept at the Hokage Tower for months. He could feel the dead crippling over the walls and it only made the nightmares worse. 

He made his decision and, in the dead of the night, left. It wasn't hard to move out, once he didn't have that many things to pack. He left his bed and most of his things there. He just brought decoration stuff, which barely filled one bag. His whole apartment was smaller than the single bedroom at his Hokage made up home. 

He hated it from the first moment to the last. The place was a reminder that people trusted him and he had to make them justice. It was a place that reminded him about Minato-sensei and every time he looked at the robe he felt like he was a child stealing things from his father — and those thoughts always stung in a way that made the air hard to breathe. Everything there was just a reminder. It wasn't home. It seemed more of a cage just like the office. The obedient monkey jumps from cage to cage. 

(Kakashi always hated monkeys. They're loud, tricky and it feels like they're always laughing at your expense and planning their next move. One could say it is the resemblance with humans that makes him hate them, but it is the eyes. They have eyes that watch you in that way that makes you feel naked in front of a crowd and they are the bullies. They are always jumping and always too fast and always clever. Kakashi is clever. So are the monkeys. Both live in cages. Both hate it. Now it is just a competition to see who escapes first. Kakashi doesn't like the odds.) 

When Obito died he considered fleeing the room for good, but was scrambled back (unconscious) a few days later. He woke up at the couch of the living room in a very uncomfortable position with one of the worst hangovers of his entire life. It took him a long time to gather his surroundings and that was to waste. The room was still spinning and he puked out of the window — he didn't have the time (nor remembered the direction) to reach the toilet, so out it was. He had no idea where that window led, he just hoped it wasn't to the main street. He cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand and went to the bathroom where he spent most of the day. 

He woke up when the day had set. His arm was tingling due him sleeping over it the whole day, over the open toilet seat, the clear water waving at him, after being washed many times. His legs and back hurt from being sat in that position the whole day and his neck was stiff from his head resting over his arm for all those hours. He had drools dripping out his mouth, vomit over his shirt and his pants, he reeked, his lips were dry and his head banged miserably at him. 

That was the picture that would become the signature of Kakashi along with the scarecrow: a grown man, silver hair, a mask pooling his neck, chin dirty with vomit, among any part of his torso and eventually his pants, his head always leaned over one arm that seemed to embrace the open toilet seat, the other arm dead at his lap, his legs sustaining his against the wall. 

Every time he walked to the kitchen he saw the bottle he nearly finished with Obito the day before he died. It was a strong whisky from somewhere that someone sent as a Welcome-on-being-Hokage-we-own-you-cause-we-got-the-money-and-we-like-to-see-you-dance. He wanted to toss it into the fire, but Obito stopped him and pleaded for him to keep the bottle for his last day. Kakashi tried to drive the day further and further, but that Wednesday he knew it was his last day. He probably shouldn't be drinking on his deathbed, but what harm could it cause? 

It was that day, four years, eight months and three days that Obito told him he never got drunk before and wanted to before he died. Kakashi applied. 

That was when it began. 

(At least, that’s what Kakashi says to himself. It’s easier this way.)

Kakashi had gotten drunk before. Plenty of times. Being a shinobi means risking your neck every beating heart out of it and, sometimes, getting drunk was all that could save them from going insane. Many men cracked before their brain told them "either you go drunk or you go crazy". Many men stayed gennin forever. Many men would quit after the first corpse, their first death. More than often, Kakashi wanted to be that kind of man. He wished he snapped all those years ago when he went on his first mission and found himself covered in blood two days before his seventh birthday. 

He hated his birthday since then. 

While he grew up he gathered more and more reasons to hate the day. It was a reminder of how many perished and him, well, a year away from death, was his actual thought every year. He wasn't suicidal, he kept repeating, he just had a natural death wish. With the life he had, it would be surprising not to have one. No one would question. 

It became a tradition. He spent a part of the day (by that you could take top two to three hours, when they were lucky) with his friends — they offered lunch and he accepted, then he would go home and take the coldest shower possible to keep the tears at bay, then he would dress up in anything and head to the bar. Each year he chose a different bar, trying to run away from undivided attention, but, in the end, his friends always found him and offered to pay the bill and he'd let them. By the end of the night he would always find a way to slip and go to the Hokage monument. He sat over the Third's stone and drank up more. Sometimes he drank bottles up there, watching the city lights and people as small as ants and quieted by the distance. When morning was coming, he went to the cenotaph and talked to Obito. 

After so many years with this routine when Obito was finally back there, he changed his tradition. Instead he took Obito out for lunch and then to the bar and to the Hokage monument, but not at the cenotaph. He didn't want to go there and let Obito see his own name craved. But when it was the supposed-to-be-the-last-one-of-the-Uchiha's birthday he asked to go to the centopath. Kakashi brought booze and they stood there for hours to no end, just talking. 

When his best friend died, again, Kakashi broke. He wouldn't ever tell anyone, he kept them all at arm's length. He was closed up already ever since his youth, but he still showed up eventually, for the birthday lunch or when people managed to get him to eat or drink with them.

But since that day he was invisible. 

He was only seen at the Hokage Office. He wasn't seen even at the cenotaph or at the many graves that had well known names. All of his said friends didn't know shit about him or his day.

He had the new routine: wake up, take a shower, feel sorry for himself, head to the Office, eat something only when obliged, light a cigarette by the end of the day (ok, he didn’t smoke as much as Asuma, but it wasn’t just one at the end of the day, but nah — poetic license), watch the sunset, sign blindly more and more papers and scrolls and go back to his room. 

His days as a regular shinobi were pretty much the same, except the whole cenotaph part and not having to sing tons of useless things as his life was before he was a Hokage. He was still late as usual, leader or not, but no one knew the reason behind it. 

With time, he began to show up later and later, sometimes he slept over his table, sometimes at some bar and headed straight to the Tower, he lit too many cigarettes, signed too many or too little papers. The circles under his eyes just weren’t that noticeable due the mask. Still, given all the factors, no one seemed to understand why Kakashi was showing up later than usual.

It wasn't the cenotaph. It wasn't the distance, since he lived four minute from the office. It wasn't a compromise once all he got was in the office. It wasn't women, 'cause they never stayed the night. Not long after, people started betting the reason the new Hokage was always late. Countless options hang on, from the mistress to cults to gambling to finding a way to go to the cenotaph without being seen to being literally allergic to mornings. 

But no one saw what was right there, in their faces. Underneath the underneath, except it was in plain sight. 

The only thing that really changed in his routine was how many bottles he emptied per day. He usually got blind drunk on his birthday and after a very rough mission (to his caliber), which could be considered, top, thirty days a year. Regularly drinking was a common thing among shinobi, so it goes unsaid. But with Obito's urge to get drunk, alcohol became a natural part of his day. And after Obito's death it became an essential part of his day. 

He was drunk the whole time. 

Every day, every single second, every time someone would beat an eyelash. 

Kakashi Hatake, the General, the feared Copy Nin, the Sixth Hokage, the Legend of the Sharingan was 

an alcoholic.

When Kakashi walked into the room, he couldn't contain a sneeze — the incense lit by the elders dominated the small room. 

(When Kakashi looks back to that day he notices that the incenses had a clear message: chamomile for soothing and sedative properties; eucalyptus stimulates and refreshes the mind, increases concentration, causes a reassessment of concepts and values, which means big decisions; lily of the valley promotes spiritual peace, calms nerves and reduces fits of rage; but the strongest smell was of frankincense: Known as "luxurious incense", it acts on the breath, relaxing and harmonizing. It was considered that it served to appease the gods. It meant only one thing:

bad news.) 

That day, all he could do was sneeze and curse under his breath from the smoke and from the look in the Elders' face. The whole Board was there too — even the daymo, that was hidden behind something that must’ve been a bodyguard.

The Council exists to help the Hokage govern the village and to make sure all decisions are made with the best interest of the Leaf and its inhabitants in mind.

Although the Hokage always has the final say in the matter, the councillors are there to give their opinions and advice, thus making sure the decisions made are fair and take into account all possibilities and viewpoints. Both have decades' worth of experience and knowledge and hold a social position similar to that of the Hokage. They exert great influence over the governing of the Leaf and have garnered wide support from the village's shinobi and are regarded with the same respect as that of the Hokage. 

The Board was a larger part of the Council that consisted of the two Elders, Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado. Koharu liked to pretend to be a lovely woman when given the chance, giving small smiles that were as fake as Kakashi's lies. She never held it too far, but you never knew when she would throw it, only that it often was before bad news, so she could pretend to have given it in the best way. She was stiff, rude, too old, already an extra hour on Earth, but was humble and always had the best interest of the village in mind — never thinking about the individuals, but always in a group, which made her train of thought to follow Danzo's. As for Homura, in his early days, thanks to his prudence and efficiency, Homura especially has gained the absolute faith of the Leaf shinobi.

Both fought in the Kurama attack.

The rest of the Board consisted in the most influential heads of the Fire Country, that the representatives of the most influential clans as the Hyuga, the Sarutobi, the Senju, the Uzumaki the feudal lord, the representative of the samurais, the wealthy names, one civilian and one chunnin.

After Inoichi and Shikaku passed, Ino and Shikamaru took on as Head of the Clan, but couldn’t maintain the post, as they couldn’t act as diplomats when they were on the field. Hiashi, as well, made the decision that no one would see coming in a thousand years: he stepped off as Head of the Clan to be in the field, back to his ANBU roots of so many years ago. Unfortunately, those who took the leadership for the most traditional and influential clans were assholes that didn’t give a fuck about lives being spent in the war. They were parasites, sucking off all they could from the status this position held. And, just as any old hag in the village, they hated Kakashi. Fuck, they hated even his father for what happened decades ago and their hatred extended to him due his ideals as well. 

His arm hairs stand on end. Bad news indeed. 

“If you may, I’d ask you to sit down.” The old hag said. He raised one of his eyebrows and even with the mask the disdain was clear. 

“I’m fine standing, thank you.”

“You really should sit down.” It was one of the board members that said, the Sarutobi. Both of his pale eyebrows rose, but he didn’t sit down, just leaning on a pilaster in the middle of the room. They were all eyeing him suspiciously, a hint of fear even coming from the Uzumaki. 

“Lord Hokage,” Hamuro began, “the past few months have been complicated for all of us."

Kakashi snorted. 

“Complicated? That’s how you define a war?”

The Elder kept his mouth shut and it was the time of one of the bastards’ board to speak, the wealthy civilian.

“We clearly can’t truly understand how it is on the battlefield,” no shit “but we have to keep an eye on the inside.” He finished, his old voice a higher pitch, his sentence followed by a dry cough.

Kakashi’s face went from disgust to curiosity — and anger. They "truly can’t understand", oh, fuck off.  

“I am aware. I rule the battlefield as much as I rule the bureaucracy. I can’t seem to find a reason for this meeting at all. The battlefield gets worse everyday and more and more papers come in. Useless papers, some of them. These are the ones you” He pointed with his chin to the board, his hands still in his pockets “that send and I might say that it just gets in the way of truly important documents.”

“That’s precisely why we’re having this meeting.”

“So you can tell me that I should care about your shameless requests other than about the mission I sign my men to go so you can stay in the safety of the village?” He wrinkled his nose, in obvious washiness and apathy.

“No, Lord Hokage, that is not why we are here." The old woman insisted. "Please, sit down.” Her eyes widened a bit, as if she was giving him a warning.

“I am fine standing." Kakashi dropped the tone of his voice. He would break the damn chair if he had to, so they'd stop to tell him to sit down.  

He hated council meetings. They hated him and he hated them. He only kept the old hags because of they knowledge of the Village and of the past Three Wars, because they were that old. Every time he dropped more and more their absurd demands and focused on things useful to his people and positive data he could use in the strategy and even to organize the mess of scrolls with a bit of tradition — the governments work in the basis of traditions. New laws are created based on the previous laws that worked; new decisions are taken based on the ones that were successful in the past. Helm is nothing but repeat old costumes and mold them into better shapes. The history doesn't change, it just molds itself. That's why wars never cease and the world don't change. The humanity doesn't know what to do from its own wellspring. 

And Kakashi tries and changes all he can, but he still lives in the shadows in his antecedents. Worse. He lives in the shadows the Elders imprinted as well. It was like a vice, a disease, the very roots of society — they've always been there. 

Kakashi was cutting them out bit by bit, because the village would be scandalized if they left in one go and he would, he admitted, lose some covered ground. But they would be out, oh, the fuckers would be out. He wouldn't let this burden to Naruto and certainly wouldn't let this burden himself until the end.

“You should sit.” The woman said again.

“I am fine standing.” And it would be better if she stopped talking. 

“You really should—" She tried to sound nice and that was pathetic and offensive to all he put through until now, swallowing so many frogs to keep the wheels turning for her to try to sound nice to him in the middle of a council board, as if she didn't make his life a living, walking, damming hell.

“Ok, fuck off. I have more important matters to attend to.” He turned to leave, not even waving his hand goodbye, his tone still neutral, a little less aloof when the next sentence stopped him dead to his feet. He could feel the wood floor splitter a little as he poured too much chakra to his feet. 

“Like a bottle of sake?” The daymo said in the corner. Kakashi turned his back with fire in his eyes.

“Come again?”

“We are aware of your… drinking problem.” The elder woman said. She had more balls than the daymo “And we are also aware of how much this is affecting the village's political stance.” 

Kakashi ran a hand on his hair, annoyance and anger boiling up his insides, but he just exhaled loudly. 

His always dropped eyes were sharp as the kunai in his pocket and could cut any of them at any given moment. They all were too aware of it. He wondered how far they would go without trembling their voices. 

“Ok, what is the board going to do?" Such a sarcastic tone for someone that showed so little emotion. His hands in his pockets had already cut the palm when he finally got them out. "Confiscate my booze? Accuse me of not being a sufficient leader?”

The silence stretched ‘til another of the old man’s board spoke.

“Precisely”.

“What?”

“We filled a request and voted upon it. You’re not leading the village correctly.” 

“What is that even supposed to mean?” 

“You are being exonerated from your position”.

The silence was only broken by the birds tweeting outside. The autumn weather was still pleasant so he could tell why his interiors felt cold as he was hit with a violent snow ball right in the face.

“You can’t do it.” He said adamantly, his general voice putting them where they were supposed to be, his chin lifted. “You can’t just impeachment me.” His voice was too nonchalant to be truly relaxed. 

“Fortunately, yes, we can." The elder woman spoke. Much more balls than the whole council, but she clearly didn’t have a way with words or understood when to shut up. “We already signed the petition and the votes were unanimous.” She could be smirking for all he could say “You are officially deposed.” 

Kakashi gave a little nausal laugh, inhaled, exhaled, looked at them with a little smile, tilted his head to the side, like a good boy. With a smile still on his voice, but that was so cold, so fierce, so brutal it would be wise to stay miles away from him he loudly said:

"Am I what?!" 

"You are being deposed from your position as the Hokage." The old hag said. 

Kakashi just couldn't believe her words. It wasn't that they were taking a dream away from him, it was just they were taking his job, his responsibility, his life from him. 

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." His voice was a low, dangerous tone. One that carried many hidden messages under it, but that were screaming out loud. You are completely fucked, his tone implied. If not for years dealing with people in stray feelings, the Old Hag might've felt a shiver run down her spine. She maintained her face depleted from any emotion, but the actual fear was bubbling inside all of them. After all, he was the Hokage and he was one of the most powerful ninja alive. He didn't win his fame for nothing. The man was a living legend. And the living legend was furious. 

"We are not kidding, Hatake." The feudal lord said, from behind his guards, making an effort for his voice not to shake. It was useless. He could smell their fear. It was on display for anyone to see it. They were afraid of him and for a good damn reason.

"What gives you the right?"

"The council deliberated and we reached this conclusion. You can no longer represent our country, you aren't apt anymore."

"And based on what was this council deliberation without my knowledge?" Every word that came out of his mouth was a quiet threat. Now they understood why the enemies feared him so much. The look in his eyes was pure evil. It carried years and years of battlefields and blood on his hands. A man whose nickname once was "Friend-killer Kakashi" didn't inspire much easiness when he was giving them his death glare. 

They should've sent a letter. And fled the country as long as his rage lasted. But it wasn't like the man was going to destroy the entire building. 

"Your issue with alcohol." The old rat that now stood for the Hyuga said. 

His. Issue. With. Alcohol. 

They were deposing him because he was an alcoholic. 

Kakashi shook on his next words, not knowing what to say. He brought this to himself. And, yet, he couldn't believe he fucked up that big. 

"That's not the only reason." He was staring at each of them dead in the eye and, fuck, maybe their death sentence laid there, in this man. Without the sharingan, was he still able to dispose of all the guards? 

"What are you trying to imply?"

"Alcoholism is a disease, not children's play. If you really cared about this, you'd sent me to treatment. You wouldn't spread rumors about me. No. I know what this is about. I was not that good of a pawn, was I?"

This time, it was the person he last thought that spoke. It was Tsunade. She'd kept herself hidden from his sight till now, she was stepping into the light, her face solene. "I am afraid that is one of the reasons, Kakashi."

"Tsunade?" He was perplexed. "What are you even doing here?"

"I am part of the council, a small part. So small they didn't consider my vote on this because they didn't even tell me they were going to deliberate. So, no" She looked in the eyes of every single person in that room and said with a voice as strong as a thunder "there wasn't unanimity."

"How dare you?” The Iamanaka piece of shit shriquered “The Princess is trying to step on our toes, when even you couldn't—"

"Shut it!" Kakashi spoke. If Tsunade's voice was a thunder, his was a whole storm into a hurricane. "Tsunade, leave." He didn't even look in her direction, just pointing minimally in the direction of the door.

"Why would I—" The woman began to plead, not angry at all. If he didn't know better, her eyes could betray fear. 

"Tsunade, please, leave. I am not officially out, so this still is an order."

"You are officially—" The feudal lord began and was promptly turned into a shaking mess under his bodyguard.

"Shut that fucking mouth of yours while you still have it." Tsunade yelled at the man's face.

"Is this a threat?" The Old Hag said, full of defiance, the ones that carry important positions think they have nothing to fear, they are politically untouchable. Such a mistake. 

"Is it?" The Sharingan spinning swept them off their feet.

“Hatake, when did you —” Nara tried to speak, but the charcoal was on fire — and it was convinced to take them all in the incendiary mess. 

"Tsunade." A word, her name, an order. As soon as she closed the door, Kakashi performed a few hand seals and slapped the wall, showing a seal that made the room soundproof.

Where is the untouchable certain?

“If you paid actual attention to the War, you’d know it already.”

"Hatake, what do you think—"

"SHUT IT!" His voice rumbled all over the small room and that was it: the end. The captain sank with his ship. And they were mere tripulantes. "How dare you? How dare you act behind my back? How dare you think you have a voice, a thought, the right to tell me how to run my country? Before you say anything, feudal lord, choke on it. Your money doesn't buy the life and death decisions I make everyday. That's the whole fucking problem, yes? 'The Hatake kid is too troublesome, let's take him down. Let's make him look like a mess, out of control' isn't it?" no one dared to answer. 

Kakashi shook his head, looking down and laughing with no amusement and pure bitterness. 

"This" He pointed to a chair in the middle of the room, a dark wood chair, with red pillow, a detailed back, legs bent in a purposeful style "that's the chair you told me to sit on, hu?" He was smiling, his voice light, bright, as if he was talking to a child. When no one answered he took it as a yes. "That's my chair then. Hum. Good" He was with his hand on his chin, nodding, a not bad expression. "Good"

Then he grabbed the chair and threw it to the wall, shattering it in thousands of small wooden pieces and foam. He laughed, amused, with all the eyes wild and trying to get as much distance as they could from him, leaning on the walls and over their chairs. 

"Hatak —"

"This one here, what's even doing here? Did someone from the council not come today?" The same light, happy tone. "I asked if someone couldn't come. Answer me!" Hr yelled-spat and when one of the bodyguards, bravely, shook his head. "Oh, is it just a spare chair? Then it won't be missed" he lifted it and threw it against the wall again. "Woah, and this?" He pointed at a small statute "Is this, huh, Buda?" Some of the rats nodded. He admired the piece again, before throwing it out of the window, shattering the entire glass with one strike. The glass fell all over the floor and onto some of them. 

Kakashi was having a good time. Now it was clear why Tsunade liked to throw things around. It helps you discharge some of the will to kill. 

"Control yourself! See?" One of the members, the civilian said. "That's why you can't —"

"That's why?" Kakashi's glaze froze the man. "This? Because I've never done this before. Maybe there's something to do with, I don't know, Itachi?"

The air went still. Kakashi grinned. Oh, he wanted a camera to register this moment forever. Homura looked a little pale, even. The feudal lord swallowed. 

"Oh, then it is? The fact I've known, all those years, was it your fault?" He pointed with his chin to the Elders, his voice calm, just like the calm before the storm. At least three people looked at them, their eyes wild. "Oh!" He covered his hand with his mouth and said with all the innocence in the world. "Sorry. They didn't know? They didn't know you and Hiruzen were the ones behind the massacre?" That made him angrier. He was leaning his elbow in the pillar and punched the wall. "Didn't they?"

"You brought this to yourself, Hatake. Don't try to blame it on us. You didn't take your role as Hokage seriously. You vanished for almost a month —"

"To rescue my students —"

"Rescue the traitor —"

"You fucking wanted him."

"You weren't even able to keep the boy safe."

"Do you think I didn't fucking try? I 'didn't take my role as Hokage seriously' to rescue him, to make sure he would make it out alive."

"But he didn't."

"And what could I do?" This time he punched a hole in the pillar through the other side. 

"It is not up to us to —"

"You wanted a meeting when I was dropping their dead bodies in the floor!"

"And you denied."

"You can't be serious." He put his head in his hands and shook it, not believing what he was hearing. "You fucking hated him."

"But he was good for political relation—"

Homura didn't finish his sentence as Kakashi did what Tsunade always did: he threw a heavy vase in his direction. The man broke it into pieces with a kunai.

The room fell silent, just a mosquito giving in that they didn't go deaf.

"You brought a War Criminal in and let him stay, let him get treatment."

"He redeemed himself by giving us information on all the Akatsuki had done, all they left behind, he gave us everything he had on Madara. What he rented was crucial to us."

"You only allowed him back due to your emotions."

"Does it matter? He's dead now."

"You put your people in danger."

"I monitored him 24/7."

"While drunk."

He felt it stir in his eyes again. He felt like a dog whose leash slipped its owner's hand and his bite was harsher than the bark. 

"You didn't take down the Uchiha traitor when he showed up at the battlefield."

Kakashi felt his throat close. "How could I take him down when he was the one that gave us shelter and as soon as the sun touched the earth, he vanished?"

"You and the Haruno girl —"

"That was proven to be fake years ago. This argument is invalid."

"You allowed another War Criminal in our grounds. Another Akatsuki member."

The woman lifted his hand and looked at the civilian, urging him to shut up.

"Oh, Itachi?" It was funny to see how they flinched. "Do we have to go around all the facts you were the ones to —"

"Not about his crime against his clan. He was a War Criminal, an associate of a Criminal Organization S-ranked."

"As far as I recall, I wasn't the one that kept him hidden for years."

Kakashi took their moment of disorientation and decided he wanted to ruin that room as much as they ruined him.

"Come on guys!" Kakashi said, his arms open, looking at everyone else, smiling wildly. "Let's keep up with our game." 'The game' being to pick things to break and throw around. "What about this one? And this? And these? And that?" 

He kept asking and kept throwing. Out of the window, at all the walls, at the floor, smashing it with his feet or his hands, crushing things with his fists, punching the pictures from the wall — making holes on the wall or just shattering the paint. When one of the members went for the door, all he had was a "oh, no, you don't" followed by a really heavy book that broke part of the wood of the door. 

"You wanted to paint me as insane, didn't you?!" He kicked another small table, smashing it under his feet when it fell to the ground. "Didn't you?"

He looked insane.

His voice was mild and sometimes took his secluded tone — yet, he looked fucking insane. He snapped. 

"Well, thank me later for making it easier on you." He punched a wall and a cleft started to run from the bottom to the middle of the ceiling. He tilted his head, amused with the possibility of the roof falling over. 

"Hatake, let us explain this better." It was the new representative of the oh so lovely ROOT, but they described him as 'wise, old friend of the Village with the common interest for the best'.

"Better? How?" A small blue vase to the ground. "How would you enlighten me about the situation?" A paperweight in a dog shape made a hole on the wall "How can you explain this to me, if I already understood?" A bottle of water splashed at their feet.

"We should talk it over..."

"Talk it over?" His orbs were dancing, his pupils dilated, his head spinning and a maniac laugh roaring through his lips. "Talk what over? There is nothing" he marked the word with another loud crash of something metallic "we need to clarify".

As the room was now soundproof, no one would hear them in the Tower and come running asking what the fuck was going on. 

Kakashi wasn't a man to go on rampant. He never was. He usually sweat it off training, killing, drinking. But now it seemed he couldn't drink. He lost his job because of this, didn't he? So he better destroy the entire room, then the entire Tower, then keep on destroying shit until he couldn't anymore. 

"Hatake!" Homuru yelled from a corner. The Elders were ninja. They were old as fuck, but they could take him down, probably, especially if they worked together, so why weren't they trying? "Stop this insanity!"

"Why should I, Homuru-sama? I thought I lost it and that was the reason you decided to take me off."

"You know pretty much it isn't —"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Kakashi rolled his eyes and threw a small cat-like statuette in his direction. "CATCH!" He yelled with a big smile, as if he was playing with the boys. 

Maybe he really lost it. He never, ever lost his cool. Not like that, not in public. But after all he'd been through for the past almost thirty years for this village to end like this? 

His disappointment was sincere when someone managed to work off one of the seals and manage some sound out. He sighed and shook his head. 

"May I assist you with it." He walked in the direction of the man — a wealthy retired chunnin that held a personal grudge against him and his father — and decided to go for a Rasengan to put a hole in the wall and break the seal. The man didn't look happy at that, but Kakashi grinned. He lowered himself to the point of being face to face with the man and whispered in his ear. "You're welcome." And then he kicked the small table that was adjacent to the wall and made a bigger hole, sending the splinters of wood to the corridor. 

It was just a matter of time now.

He stopped throwing things around with the same energy as he was running low on objects, but as he saw the feudal lord leaving through the hole, he felt it. He felt it burn. He would have to talk with Sakura about this. Well, if there would be any remains of Kakashi to be talked to. He honestly hoped it didn't. 

Kakashi performed the Chidori chain to send the brick blocks that held the Elders' chairs atop out of the hole that now was the whole wall fallen. He smirked. If it is to go down, may it be making a goddamn pathetic show. 

(The last hit that crumbled the remaining of the wall to the floor, made the cracks to the ceiling intensify and, for a moment, Kakashi just stood there, looking above and thinking, about that unfaithful day, 20 years ago. The day he would've been smashed by a rock, but Obito took his place. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He could still hear the rocks cracking and falling all over each other. When he learnt that Sakura's fight with Sasori cost the whole ceiling of the cave, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't stop, but he had to, but he couldn't. He kept repeating to himself that Sakura would be fine, that she fucking had to be fine, that there was no other possibility other than be okay. Every step he took and every rock he heard, it was like a vice squeezing his heart and puncturing his lungs. He wouldn't be able to make it out if something like that happened again. 

It wasn't a matter of play hard what if he died that day instead of Obito, because why the fuck would Madara take interest on him? He was just a prodigy arrogant brat and that was that. Madara wouldn't recruit him, no sharingan, no Uchiha, no nothing. He would've died an honourable death. 

But he didn't. 

And now he was here. 

Shitting in Obito's dream, just as he did with Rin and everything else.

Looking at the ceiling, he closed his eyes and wondered if if it fell it would be enough to kill him.)

"Lord Hokage!" 

Kakashi opened his eyes and was dragged back to reality. One of his ANBU guards was staring at him, his fear and concern mixed and Kakashi took pity on the man. Lord Hokage. He wasn't Hokage anymore and he really, really took pity on the man. 

"What is going on?" 

The boy looked concerned, not judgemental. 

"The news hasn't reached out yet?"

"News?" The boy with a turtle mask tilted his head to the side, confused. "Which news?" He turned alert in the blink of an eye. "Are we under attack?" 

Incredibly, in the middle of all that, Kakashi smiled. The boy couldn't be more than 16. The present standards for ANBU didn't drop, but the kids had to train much, much harder because they were soldiers and had to be sent to the field every time. He really took pity on him. 

"Look, kid," Turtle immediately looked at him and that was a keen admiration in his eyes. "take the day off."

"But s—"

"It's an order." 

The boy nodded and shunshied away, just as more ANBU appeared — and they were eyeing him meticulously, studying him. Yeah, the news leaked.  

Kakashi sighed. He knew ANBU. He trained them, he was one of them, these men were his men, he would still go on short term missions with them. He knew their protocol and how they operated. It is a cardinal sin to attack your Hokage, but he was Hokage no more. So…

Kakashi launched. They were a group of four — and they were young. Kakashi always tried the best he could to not send kids to the field, even though the Village was proving to be more and more dangerous every passing day. He took the four of them in less than a minute and kept going. Ten meters ahead, another group. And then another, and another, and another, and another. 

The place was a mess. He had already fucked up two floors. He didn't care the least. But he needed to reach his office, that would've been easier if the rumours and gossip and, well, the fact he blew an entire room didn't draw attention to him, he could've just gone straight there. 

Kakashi was leaving traits of bodies and ruined furniture, digging holes in the walls, in the floor, electrifying patterns in the carpets, in the wood floor, drenching, leaving burn holes, dragging his fist through the wall like Sasuke did when he tried to kill Itachi. (Of fucking course he didn't fucking kill anyone, but it wasn't rock, paper, scissors to see who'd win. It was a mini battle, but a battle nonetheless. And he was leaving people in a pretty fucking bad shape).

When he reached his Office, the tower was made of hot water crying, causing curtains of smoke, broken, broken pieces of everything everywhere, mud and earth, dry earth and fire, just as the world came to existence; just as it would disappear. 

He knew what he needed, so he didn't miss a bit on taking it. And then he felt her. And, by her, he was doomed. 

It was the beginning of a Civil War. He knew, she knew, they all did. Yet, it was out of their hands. All they could do was destroy everything in their way — she would try to stop him. But it was just the beginning of the fall.

Turning around to face the door, he was ready to meet his destiny, in his fight instance, the adrenaline making his blood pump so loud in his ears he couldn't hear all the voices trying to drown him in self depreciation. They would have to wait.

It was the beginning of a Civil War.

five years before

July 3033, 3 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"Have you ever thought about dying?"

He lifted an eyebrow and she took another bite of the now damp dango, just to spit it. "Suicide."

Never had a word hang so heavy on the air.

"You know, just... ending it all."

"My father did."

"I know. Depression is genetic."

"Are your parents depressed?"

"Not really."

"Then why are you?"

"Genetics is only a part. Life is another."

"So, have you?"

"I asked first." He shrugged. "Yes."

Some bells in the distance rang, the breeze sang a song and filled the empty space they were in. It was the Hatake compound. 

No ghosts, but full of spider webs.

She didn't enter Kakashi's room. She didn't want to. She was afraid to step on Sakumo's blood or Kakashi's toys and that would tear out her skin and no chakra would ever heal it. She'd rather just live with his dark eyes matching the carpet, but never going far enough to find the curtains to match his hair.

"Why?"

Sakura laughed. "Is there a right answer to it?"

"No."

Some birds chipped, the crickets were about to take their place. 

The whole room was pink and orange. It made him look like sin, it made her look like an angel. 

"I've thought about it." A pregnant pause. He was staring out of a closed window, his mind far, far away. "Plenty of times."

"How many of us, uh?" Kakashi wiggled an eyebrow. "It's not our privilege to think about it. It might be for us to be alive."

"Kisame killed himself."

"So did Deidara."

"Yahiko, Neji, Shisui, your father, Haku… Haku died the same way as —"

"I used to think that I should've died instead of Rin and Obito. They would've gotten married. Have cute kids."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

She didn't look at him and he didn't look at her. 

"Maybe Obito died in the next mission or maybe the cave collapsed over Rin. Maybe she didn't love him. Maybe he cheated on her. I don't think their hair colour would match. There is no place more distant in the world than yesterday."

"There would be no war."

"But there was and they didn't, and you dying wouldn't make sure they wouldn't."

"I should've died instead of Minato."

"And seal Naruto?"

"If Rin didn't —"

"Rin was not your fault."

"Yes, she was."

"Was she? You kidnapped her, Kakashi?"

He didn't answer. She looked at the ceiling. There were water pools and it was staining in yellow. 

"I was the one that delayed her rescue."

"I read the file."

Sakura felt his eyes burning her cheek, but she made sure to keep any tears at bay. She shouldn't want to cry. 

When she fell under Tsunade's tutelage, she had to read about Kakashi's transplant — she had to read about the day Obito died. It was supposed to stop on the medical file, but she broke through and read his. There were days she wished she didn't. He opened up at tiny bits, just like a pregnant woman dilated to give birth. Instead, she cut with a hot knife and now she caused the infection.

He nodded, scratching his wrist. He does that when he wants to drink. He also cracked all his bones, but mostly his hands. Over and over, until the bones wouldn't crack anymore. She scratched her veins, or just bit her finger, hard. 

(She used to crack her fingers too, but after she broke four just as an excuse to pop pills, she stopped.)

"Rin was not your fault. You didn't kill her. She killed herself."

"She died by my hands." Sakura didn't say anything. "I know you read the file."

"Rin's I didn't." He lifted a pale eyebrow. "Obito told me." Sakura started to pick under her fingernails with a kunai and just stopped when Kakashi put his hand over hers — she didn't notice it was bleeding. "She was a war weapon. It was all a war plot. She was a tool, you were a tool."

"I used to think suicide was cowardice."

"Don't we all?"

He sighed, something akin lungs deflating defeat.

"I used to hate him. People think they understand, but they don't. There is something else about suicide. Attempt is something. People hug you and pat you in the back. Some worry, some don't. We're all suicidal. We, shinobi. How else do you explain our life?" He lit a cigarette. 

He said he would try to stop smoking. She called it bullshit and he knew she was right. Everyone knew what would kill Asuma and Sarutobi — and what killed them. They knew what would kill Shikamaru. Kakashi would be no different. 

Sakura liked to share cigarettes with him. Sharing bottles and smoke makes you feel like creating a bond. Is ridiculous, but it does. 

She was taking a drag and watching the smoke around him, how it made him look like a golden god, something that came out of books to kill in all possible ways. To kill and to get killed. To perish and to conquer. With the smoke around him, caught him in a swirl, the sun making it dance, so fragile, she wanted to cry.

"We don't die shallow deaths."

"Taking your own life is shallow?"

His eyes locked with hers, the wheels spinning, recording her, accusing her, his voice a submersible jump in a frozen lake.

It could've been a whip, a hot metal pressed against her tights, an eye ripped out, her heart out of her chest still beating and it would've hurt less. Taking your own life is shallow?

"When I learnt about my father and the way he died, I realised that ending your life is the most difficult thing to do."

Would my hands shake?, could've been a question but the smoke swallowed it.

"Sometimes, I wonder who'd go to my funeral." Sakura's voice was light as a plume, but hit the air as iron. Even in death, maybe no one cared. Would it matter? (Yes) Her fingers touched his when she handed him the cigarette, the tip of it could be as hot as the Sun but nothing could burn as the palm of his hand when it touched her breasts over his gloves.

"I wouldn't." She just turned to look at him, a small frown in her face. Her fingers were numb. "I have to die before you."

"No. You don't."

"It's nature's law. I am older, I die first."

"This doesn't apply to us." Us.  We, shinobi.

"I... just wouldn't."

He left unsaid the I couldn't stand if you died you're  my best friend; can my best friends do me the favour to stop fucking dying?, and she left unsaid the same. They didn't have to share these words.

Death is the cruelest kind of torture.

The sun walked in the sky and the cigarette died in her last drag as she asked before spelling the smoke.

"What do you do when you feel like a failure?"

"Am I that much of a failure for you to come to me for advice?"

"Fuck off." Sakura laughed and it just felt right because things felt right with him around. "It's just... I still feel left behind. I still live in their shadows. I am not "Sakura Haruno", I am the Hokage's apprentice, Naruto's teammate, Kakashi Hatake's —" she cut herself mid sentence. There was already a lot they were referring her to when connected to him, there was a lot to be, to not be. "t-teammate." She laughed with a dark humour that made the sky look crystal clear. "They like to call me your whore. I am not even not even a fucking person. You know? It's never, "oh, hey, you're Sakura!", it's always "you're the girl that's related to someone bigger than you". Friend, teammate, apprentice, whore." The bitterness in her tone was almost sweet. It was like she considered a lost cause, but still worth fighting for, even not believing it. "Sasuke overcame this." 

Kakashi wasn't expecting her to say this when he had the answer already on the tip of his tongue, so she could see the confusion there when he looked at her. "He used to be "the last of the Uchiha", but now he is Sasuke. When will I be Sakura?"

A gust of wind too strong to be natural crossed the street and they looked at how it distorted the trees and she thought about how much she wished she could mold the air around her. People oversee Wind just as they oversee Earth. But Wind can swipe entire civilizations and that's what Sakura wanted to do. Maybe if she wiped the world clean she could be reborn with her own name.

"When will you let them know?" Kakashi said, looking at the leaves. 

He could use Wind as much as he could use Earth. They could battle and see if a hurricane can surpass an earthquake.

"About?"

"About you."

Pretty vague, but she knew what he was about. 

(She found out about Naruto less than a month ago. She found out that she wasn't the only one that assassinated just as she learnt tree climbing. The biggest surprise of all was that Sasuke was the one that took the most. Not because Kakashi was trying to preserve him, but because he couldn't. Sakura really shouldn't think of this word, but it was because he was weak.

She remembered the mission. It was a big man, bigger than any of them would like. Kakashi got rid of him in the blink of an eye and they all breathed easier, even smiled until it happened — it wasn't one, it was two. In the shinobi world, twins are rare. Identical twins even more. Identical twins that the fucking client forgot to tell you about and you're in the middle of enemy territory, surrounded by cows and mountains, are even more rare and worse, much worse. Kakashi didn't sense him because he wasn't a ninja. He was just a man and that made him even more dangerous. He looked at his brother's body on the floor and without any chakra flaring he attacked. He looked like a giant, not a man. His brother was easier to summit precisely because he was a shinobi and he was caught in his own traps, his own jutsus, his own arrogance. This man was just ire and his eyes gleaned red so vividly she'd say he was an Uchiha. His name was Hanari, she never forgot. 

Kakashi was the first to fall followed by Naruto. It left her and Sasuke. Dear Sasuke, so full of himself, so powerful, such a prodigy, perfect and crafted by angels — but Sakura learnt that there are no angels in a battlefield and there was no glory when Sasuke pissed himself. 

The smell hit her nose like a punch. It was just the two of them and they were cornered in a kitchen. Kakashi had a nasty gash in his head and he bled so much that Sakura's fingers trembled when she tried to wake him, afraid he had choked in his own blood. Naruto made his thousands of shadow clones, but when Hanari lifted him by the neck, choking him, there was no use. Naruto had such a deep bruise Sakura was afraid he would mingle with the soil. 

They were chakra depleted, basically. Fighting Hanari's brother (she never caught his name) was out of the plans, because he wasn't supposed to pull up so much of a fight. He wasn't supposed to be there. They just stopped by the goddamn house because Naruto needed to wrap his leg properly and Sakura wasn't a medic at the time. She was 13. They were genin. Kakashi was supposed to be on his feet and Hanari on the floor, not the other way round. 

But it was Sasuke in front of her, the wooden door at her back cracking, the knob poking at her ribs in a way that left a purple bruise, her hair glued to her forehead and he had a kunai pointed to the man. It was what they had. It was a stupid, stupid mission. A C-ranked shit that, as always, turned against them. With his kunai at his face, Hanari laughed because he was easily thrice their size. Sasuke's aim was perfect and when the shuriken embedded in Hanari's forearm and he just looked angrier it was the moment he peed himself. It might look fucking pathetic considering all they've been through, but they were children in the middle of nowhere, with a sharingan that did shit, with a civilian that was so angry that shrugged off shurikens. 

He threw Sasuke around the room and broke a table. Sakura knew what he was to do to her before he even looked at her. She felt the the cold air that entered through the cracks of the door and tickled her shins. He had a predatory look on his face. She was petite. She looked like a prey and he looked like a lion drooling. There was no Kakashi sensei for god knows how long. 

She was about to be raped. 

She was never kissed, she never held hands, no one brushed her hair past her ears or told her how beautiful she was and that troglodyte was about to take off her virginity in the worst way possible. (And it wasn't up to be the last time) 

When his ugly, huge hands yanked her down by her long, soft hair and opened his pants, shoving her face in, she did the thing he deserved: she bit it out. 

Her face was full of blood when he slapped her with enough strength to break a chair. But when he tried to jump on her again, she stuck a kitchen knife into his eye and his scream fills the void of her nightmare till the present. She didn't need to stab him, but she did. She didn't need to cut his throat, but she did. And when Kakashi woke up she didn't want to be scared of him, but she was. 

With that amount of blood all around her, her skin and her clothes, Kakashi took his time boiling water and giving her a cloth. When he gave her his spare shirt, she cried and he let her. That was when Sakura knew she could trust him — and that she could take care of herself in the shadows because as much as she would never forget Hanari's face when he was dying she would never forget the look on his face and how afraid of herself she was)

"I still don't feel like I am enough."

"I know. I feel the same."

"You?!" Sakura turned to him, incredulous. Kakashi Hatake not being enough is laughable. 

Isn't it?

"Yeah." He laughed, humourless. "No matter what people say, what I accomplish, the price over my head in Bingo books, I will always and forever feel like I am not enough." He shrugged and kicked a rock. His shoulders were too tense, but his eyes were too heavy. It was like he was just thinking out loud. "And before you get started, it's not because of the deaths. It's not just the guilt, just the certainty of failure. I just feel like... like I once had potential and I explored it and overcame it, but it isn't enough. I think it will never be."

"Why? Just — why? Will it ever be enough?"

"Which are the parameters?"

"We're human." Sakura said with a frown, her eyebrows knitted together. "We shouldn't be soldier kids."

Yet, we are. Yet, we chose.

"Once I read that we are like the moon, crafted with imperfections and noted just when convenient. The moon understands how it is to be like us."

"Did you know that when you die your brain gives you a strong shot of hormones that gets you high, so high that it is the best feeling you will ever experience? Some days, I think we made that oath keeping in mind that dying would be our happier moment."

"We seek happiness till our dying day. We won't ever be satisfied. Never. We keep climbing a mountain that never ends, that surpasses the clouds and the atmosphere. We will keep on climbing —"

"But we will never reach."

"I like it when you complete my sentences."

She smiled and it was contagious, because his mask moved too. If you can't laugh, then smile. 

"We won't ever be enough."

"Nope."

"And we have to be fine with it."

"Precisely."

She nodded and looked away, seeming content, just to look back at him with all the fire in hell in her eyes. Why did he always have to do that to himself?

"What about failure, then? What about feeling fucking useless, no matter what people say?" She spat his words against him like it was poison; and, like poison, it always got in her bloodstream as well. She wanted to hurt to see if something would leak, but she knew what would hit her.

"Sakura." Her eyes burned holes into his soul and his eyes drowned her lungs. "We only listen to what we want to hear. We only see what we want to see. We are not failures. We just haven't accepted ourselves. Accept we are humans."

"And being human hurts." A single tear fell from her eye, stopping at her chin. 

He cleaned it and travelled his hand to her cheek. His mask was now pooled at his neck, and fuck his smile could bright the whole country. But he never smiled and the lamp posts were broken.

"I fucking hate crying." 

"You look pretty when you cry."

She did indeed look beautiful crying. Beauty is a concept we live inside, and she was her own kind of beautiful. Her eyes would ever get more green and the way her cheeks and nose went red made her look like a — deer. But in a good way. It made her cute, but it made her furious. The tears she was shedding could be acid, if touched by the wrong person.

"There is nothing wrong with crying. Ever since we're born, it's been a sign we are alive."

Sakura captured his head with both hands, forcing him to look at her. For a moment, that was all it was. Her eyes didn't waver from his, even if his mask was around his neck, his pretty, pretty face for show. She already memorized every detail about it. Knew every curve, every imperfection and little scar, every melody the years imprinted and the ones he was born with. But she focused on his eyes. 

He knew what was bound to happen. They knew. They always knew.

But it never happened. They also never needed it. 

In the world, there is passion, lust, love, desperation. 

In their world, it wasn't different, apart from love that was much rarer — at least to work out. They die too young and too afraid. 

If I tell you Kakashi and Sakura fucked, you will turn around and leave. If I tell you they didn't, you might as well, because only those in their skin knows what it is like. Maybe not even them. Sex is sex and always has been and always will be. Nothing can change that. No fairytales or utopias. Sex is raw and the nature proves it all along. 

We don't need sex here to make a statement — but maybe you do need to think and break free and realize that between life and death, they'd rather die knowing they gave something to each other. 

That's not the matter. 

The only matter in hand is that they were no longer alone in the shinobi world. The useless Sakura no one gave a shit about and the distant Kakashi. For a fleeting moment, she had her hands in his face and he saw himself, tiny, tiny

(INEZ: Suppose I try to be your mirror? Sit down. Come closer. Closer. 

Look into my eyes. What do you see? 

ESTELLE: Oh, I'm there! But so tiny I can't see myself properly. 

INEZ: Don't worry about him. As I said, he doesn't count. We're by ourselves. .. Ask away. 

ESTELLE: Are my lips all right? 

INEZ: Show! No, they're a bit smudgy. 

ESTELLE: I thought as much. Luckily no one's seen me. I'll try again. 

INEZ: That's better. No. Follow the line of your lips. Wait! ! I'll guide your hand. There. That's quite good. 

ESTELLE: As good as when I came in? 

INEZ: Far better. Cruder. Your mouth looks quite diabolical that way. 

ESTELLE: Good gracious! And you say you like it! How maddening, not being able to see for myself! You're quite sure, Miss Serrano, that it's all right now? 

INEZ: Won't you call me Inez? 

ESTELLE: Are you sure it looks all right? 

INEZ: You're lovely, Estelle. 

ESTELLE: But how can I rely upon your taste? Is it the same as my taste? Oh, how sickening it all is, enough to drive one crazy! 

INEZ: I have your taste, my dear, because I like you so much. Look at me. No, straight. Now smile. I'm not so ugly, either. Am I not nicer than your glass? 

ESTELLE: Oh, I don't know. You scare me rather. My reflection in the glass never did that; of course, I knew it so well. Like something I had tamed… I'm going to smile, and my smile will sink down into your pupils, and heaven knows what it will become. 

And that's how they become. Kakashi wouldn't let anyone be his mirror, because the cracks he had in his wall were tamed, even if into pieces. It took them four months in the dark, for him to say something more than a pathetic excuse. From Ms Serrano/Kakashi-sensei to finally Inez/Kakashi was a fight. To survive looking into each other's eyes, they needed to be held captive for over 200 days, so the lipstick smudge was fixed and, when the smile dunked on other's pupil, it was alright. They didn't know how their smiles tasted any more, beside the same blur as the lipstick. It was alright.)

"Don't kill yourself, Kakashi." 

(Her voice held such a tone of finality, a deep sadness that he only heard once, when a mother was burying her fifth son, her other three in tow and a baby in her arms. The woman told him that life is only precious because it ends and at the time he didn't understand.)

"What made you think I ever would, Sakura?" He said with an eye crease, pinching the point of her nose, giving a fake half hearted laugh. 

She didn't budge. 

(At the time, he was suicidal at best, throwing himself at so many dangerous missions he didn't know how he made it alive. When the woman said that, the dirt still warm and fresh in front of her, other fours crosses by its side, he understood as a sign — go, kill yourself, kid. When the message was exactly the opposite. 

There is a poem, by Carlos Drummond de Andrade that goes 

"Don't kill yourself, Carlos

Carlos, keep calm, love

is what you're seeing now;

today a kiss, tomorrow no kiss,

day after day tomorrow's Sunday

and nobody knows what will happen

Monday.

It's useless to resist

or to commit suicide.

Don't kill yourself. Don't kill yourself!"

And what the weary woman said to Kakashi was live while you can.)

She didn't have to say that he didn't fool her as it was written all over her face.

"I read once that — it was when I was fanning all over Sasuke and had had a fight with Ino — I read "will it matter 30 years from now?" and if the answer is no, then you already know how to deal with the problem."

"And if the answer was yes?"

"Killing yourself isn't an option. From all the tests I've taken and all I've read and studied, I've never come across it as an answer." She said with a soft voice.

Sakura smiled and put her hand on his cheek, the way a proud mother would do after telling her son ghosts aren't real. 

Ghosts aren't real, Kakashi.

In the silence that followed, the wind blew too strong to be natural and they heard the sound of trees falling, even in their eyesight they could see them burning. 

"Fuck, they're here."

In a swirl of leaves Kakashi was out and the sound of Sakura adjusting her gloves echoed in the Hatake compound.

six years later

March 3036, 6 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

It was a friday. He knew it was a friday ‘cause Gai's been there. His wheelchair trait was still on the wet grass. Gai only came at fridays. He came everyday — but, today, it was a friday. It was raining. It was a downpour. It was cold. It was almost winter. (according to the Weather Forecast, the situation was about: 

temperature: 4º

rain: 100% 

humidity: 93% 

wind: 34 km/h

Maybe it should be snowing. He wasn’t all fond of snow. Sakura was. It froze his fingers and that was never good on the battlefield. He wasn’t on the battlefield right now, even though he wished he was. He always wanted to die, didn’t he? At least, that’s what everyone said. (They were due to leave tomorrow, anyway. Head South. It wasn’t over, he wondered if it ever would be. His fingertips would be frozen and his eyes would bleed red, but he would stay. Not leaving a comrade behind also, and mostly, means not letting them die. At least, that’s what it means; unfortunately, not what he does. Sakura always tried to convince him otherwise, just like she tries to make him like the snow: it never worked, but always made him smile, sneaking her frozen fingertips underneath his back)

It was late. The sun had set hours ago, shining gold and beautiful, twisted in the marble stone. The sunset always looked beautiful everywhere, no matter the circumstances. Mother nature is really nice and kind, isn’t she? But the sun had set and now it was just the moon. 

They didn’t put lamp streets that far in the middle of training grounds. That never stopped Kakashi from going there and just staring at the stone.

His muscles stiffen from standing still for so long. They burned like marshmallows forgotten on the fire due a too good bedtime story. He wasn’t used to bedtime stories. He wondered if he ever had a child he probably should — he could just tell the kid about how good of an assassin he was. The kid wouldn't understand anyway, so he mentally shuggered. His whole body ached, from head to toe telling him that he shouldn’t fucking stand in the cold immobile. He let 'em burn. Maybe it could waver off like a marshmallow and he would leave feeling like something good came out of him — like he was the good story in the background instead of the villain. 

Does it make any sense?

When you stare at the abyss, it stares back at you —

The stone was meeting him dead in the eye, in a contest to see who'd look away first. 

He was fucking angry, truth be told. No matter how many times you've experienced the death of your loved ones, it never gets easier. It’s not like training. After a while, the punches don’t hurt you like they used to. Your body responds differently. Your muscles, tendoes, brain, bones don’t feel the impact the same way. You do get used to it. It is your carcace, your vessel, not but flesh and bones. That you can train so it hurts less. 

But psychological pain is not the same. It’s not that easy. You can’t train. Kakashi tried. He drowned himself in ANBU. If ROOT wasn’t coup d’êtat part II, he probably would be blissfully brainwashed. 

Grief is a bitch. 

Grief shatters you. Have you ever experienced grief? I hope you never do. Not in the wrong order. 

(An oldy lady — a civilian, in a Village far, far deep inearthed in mountains, fortunately oblivious to any and each war — in the splendor of her 90’s, told him that was no pain bigger to a mother to bury her own kids. That the natural order it’s always the kids to bury the parents. Kakashi’s tongue itched for him to tell her that not even knowing his mother and finding his father's suicidal corpse wasn’t that natural, but she picked it in the air before he said anything and poured liquor in his coffee (and in hers). Kakashi doesn’t like to be touched, but when her corrugated hand touched his, her fingers cold and her eyes understandable, not with pity, he knew she knew. To her, the old lady named Aimeé, he pulled the mask off. She smiled. She’s dead, nowadays.)

But, truth is, what is this order, anyway? In the shinobi world, everyone just dies, everyday. Nevertheless, Kakashi feels and always will that he should be the one to die first. So far, all this war has shown is that the dead come back and those who should stay leave — and Kakashi stays as if he is a root, attached and unwavering. He wonders if that's how Akatsuki sees him. He wonders if that's how his Susanoo'o looks like. 

When does self loath begin and where does it end? Does it even end someday? Does this war ever end?

(Ask the bottles.)

They used to joke that "Does Madara will ever fucking die?" They laughed and passed the wine bottle to one another, just like they will pass the canteen with sake during the trip; but now they will ask "does this shit will ever fucking end?" but is there anyone who ever knows the answer? It seems war is more of a state than a matter of who, what, where, when. It is like water. Liquid, gaseous, solid. It is there, you just need to look closely. 

You learn to live with it, after a while. We all do. 

He was born into War. Kakashi was a child soldier and now a war veteran. Still, the word tasted wrong in his mouth. It always did. Itachi told him he was a pacifist and he laughed. Shisui was a pacifist; Itachi was a pacifist; Naruto was a pacifist. Him? He was akin to immortal because God wouldn't let him die and it wasn't out of kindness of his heart. No. Kakashi couldn't take himself as a pacifist. He told Itachi he was such a monster as Madara — Itachi broke his nose and Sakura refused to heal it. 

Kakashi was also dramatic.

His eyes just kept looking at the kanji in front of him. Over and over and over and over. No matter how hard he stared nor how much he prayed to a God he didn’t believe, the words didn't vanish. They didn't rust. They didn’t drop and ran away. They wouldn't let him alone. They wouldn't become lies. 

(Because, try to follow before calling me dense: when something becomes lies it isn’t true anymore. And truth means everything , as much as lies means the same. They say the word isn’t a dichotomy, but when it comes to this it is. Truths and lies are different to everyone, but that’s not the point. There’s only two sides of the coin here: either you’re dead or you’re alive. When your name is at the Memorial Stone you’re are a truth: you are fucking dead. But if your name slip, if you vanish, if someone taps you in the shoulder and says “sorry, kid, wrong name” it turns into a lie, which means you are fucking alive. That’s how much your name vanishing means. It sounds pathetic, but desperation will always and forever make you look piteous — which is just another word for paltry.)

He wouldn't scratch them, he wouldn’t grow claws and rip them away, and smile because it wasn't true — it was a fake grave and, actually, none of these names were supposed to be there. It was just a joke, a prank — one out of a thousand. None of them were dead. Bring the champanhe in.

It could be just another one of Naruto's pranks. Or even Kushina's,  even though he didn't live to see it. Just any fucking prank would do it. The Memorial Stone was such a shame to exist. Didn't the Sage of the Sixth Paths want peace? Why the fuck they needed a stone to the soldiers with no bodies? 

It did fucking worked with Obito, right? 

He went there everyday and then the bastard wasn’t dead. He was batshit insane and wanted to destroy the whole world, that’s true, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. He popped out of nowhere, mask ruined, shared vision and Kakashi was so, so angry and he loathed himself in so many ways but he fucker was alive and Heaven or something heard his unspoken prays and brought the man back — insane, twisted, filled with anger, malice and ready to destroy all living forms, but Kakashi could swallow his tears and thank you, thank you, danke, gracias, merci, arigato, fuck. 

Why not now? 

(Because Obito died again, after all.)

Even — and hence — after all he's done in The War, (in the end of it, when he actually did help) some wanted his name removed from the stone. Kakashi stood adamantly. If they erased — do you erase something whittled in stone? — he'd just pick a fucking hammer, a kunai, a knife, a wooden stick, anything, and put his name there again. He would crave it, kanji after kanji, until Obito Uchiha was there again. 

But when people refused to, when they declared him unworthy Kakashi did it, didn't he? Craved the damn signs where they belonged. Another Uchiha no one wanted in there. But, Hokage or not, he did it by himself. He felt that was the minimum he could do. It took almost a whole day. Craving words wasn't easy. Craving knives in flesh is. He couldn’t banish the thought the whole day. 

(His father's name wasn't at the cenotaph either. They thought, indeed, that the name didn't belong there — he did, indeed, indeed, indeed, indeed, killed himself, he didn't die in the action, he died due to it, so — but, the consensus was that it didn't belong anywhere. The name wasn't carved in any stone; he was buried as a disgrace, outside of town, south of the gates. There wasn't anything but a pile, a small mount of dirt. His father's name was nowhere to be seen. 

He couldn’t find his mother’s grave, either. After his father died, he didn’t visit either of them. Kakashi decided to visit his mother when he became sensei. It was 20 years later. He never said a proper goodbye to his mother. Maybe that’s why he kept coming here. Just one, one, has to forgive him. Minato-sensei, Kushina, Itachi — please)

Kakashi was tired. Tired of all the self loathing that followed him for all his life. He didn't have energy, time or space for this anymore. They had a war to fight — to fight, not to win — and looming wasn't going to save them. 

("It should be easier by now." He told Minato, one day, when they were packing up the camp. "It should be easier to forgive myself. To feel useful. We defeat big guys, we bring some sort of peace. Why isn't it easier?" 

"It won't ever be easy, Kakashi. It might never be possible." Minato sighed, knowing his words were harsh, but it was the truth. Kakashi knew why he was so mad. "You brought this upon yourself." 

That left Kakashi with a sour taste in his mouth; one he killed emptying his canteen. "Fuck it all, then."

Minato apologized two days later, but the truth was laid before his feet.)

He stared at the cenotaph and it stared back at him. 

("He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." It was what Nietzsche said, he read it once. When does one’s humanity ends and its monstrosity begans? Shinobi forgot.)

The sixth day of the week, (undermentioned) the twenty-fourth day of the month. 

People love fridays: that means booze, getting shit faced, ignoring responsibilities, sleeping ‘till noon, going to bed at 5 AM, partying hard, unattached sex, one night only, using pills (they rely on painkillers, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t lowkey junkies among ninja), party rock, jump into pools, have the time of your life — things Jiraiya wrote here and there. Civilian’s lives and weekends. Their fridays.

But not for Kakashi. Not for shinobi. There ain’t no festivities and weekends. There’s alcohol and sex, sweat, dirty talk, fogged windows, pills make you get hasty, make you stand for at least 15 hours without breaking a sweat of tiredness, hypersensitivity to touch, doing what’s in hand to decrease the sensitivity to pain, relax the muscles, sleeping late and going to bed with the sun rising — but they’re covered in blood during all of this.¹ 

There — there 

was friday.

It is funny that when it happened he didn’t know it was a friday. When you are covered in blood, fighting for other’s lives (because you don’t fight for yours, don’t even try to comes with this lie), when you see how blood looks when the sun is up and when it is down and you don’t know its proper colour anymore, you don’t really know how the enemy looks anymore because they are just covered as you; when you are jumping in front of fire to give it more time to medic nin to save a life, when you are carrying someone over your shoulder, when you took your last soldier pill, you don’t know it’s friday.

But when you have the time to mourn, you know. And that should be pathetic, because life and death aren’t about calendars. 

When the Fourth Great Ninja War was declared at the Kage Summit, Obito didn’t state “Evening, ladies and gentleman, today, Thursday, eight PM, a war begins.” No, war just takes place and takes lives away. That simple — that painful.

When Madara came back, he didn’t know which day it was. When Neji died, Naruto didn’t mark in his calendar if it was a Sunday. When hell broke loose, again, when Akatsuki took their sleep again, no one was taking notes. When his blood froze at the sight of Sakura splashed, not moving; when they found the bodies, when hawks knock at your window, when they rescue more ANBU masks then their bodies, when Hiddan tried to rip his heart off (again), when he saw Itachi in the middle of the hallway, when Konoha fell, when his eyes bled again, when Hiruzen died (again), when Jiraya was brought back to be taken down, when Hinata kissed her son goodbye to return to the frontlines, when Choujiro was killed by Karui inside the Leaf's Hospital, when Kakashi flushed her pills down the toilet, when their camp exploded from the inside, making Sai lose his right arm — not one of then was marking the days.

They didn’t even know when it was Christmas for the past two years. It is pathetic, Kakashi.

Even though he knew it was Friday — the third of the month. 

There were so many other kanji he visited everyday, but today he went there to speak with them, just the two of them. He wasn’t alone for the first two hours, but the rain washed away the traces of smell. (Hinata placed her hands on his shoulder, told him she was going to pack and Sakura ruffled his hair. Deep in his soul, he smiled). He was alone now, his fingers touching the names. They were so different, in life and in death, written there, even side by side. 

One was neat, perfect, sculpted with such a delicacy that it was a crime that this handjob was the name of a deceased. The person that craved it, knew what was doing. (Maybe he was the one that carved the Hokage’s faces? That’s probably arrogance by thinking that there’s only one civilian that’s able to do such, as if they have expertise only. One fisherman, one baker, one street market — while there are dozens of shinobis with fire style jutsus. 

It’s not everyday you have a new Hokage, but everyday you have a new death.) This person had done it before. The pattern was just like all the others. It was like the name belonged there. (It fucking didn't). He gained his acknowledgment in life and now had praises in death. 

The other name was completely messy. It was barely readable. It was a slouch, distorted, asymmetrical, totally not perfectly aligned, not like someone knew what was doing. It was done in a desperate attempt by calloused hands, by someone that managed some fucking way on how to crave it on the stone. 

It wasn't raining anymore for quite a while, wasn’t it? The stone was already dry. (he must be fucking freezing, scantily-clad beneath the clear night sky, and don't stop in the winter, no. And they said it changes when the sun goes down, around here. It doesn’t. His clothes were less soaked, but ice cold. Just like South where he would bleed and die to save other’s lives from being written by their side.)  There was a breeze that played with the soggy hair and blew the leaves of a nearby tree at it and at the marble (shit) stone. It was an apple tree.

He looked at Obito's name. It was smoothly craved too. 

With a last look, he held timidly his hand and barely waved. 

“Bye, boys. See you tomorrow.” His voice was strangled and his throat and mouth dry — 

he was thirsty

He reached for the canteen in his pocket — empty. It was a gift from Sasuke. ‘Till the day of his death he would wonder if Sasuke hit his head or was compelled by a death threat, but the thing is he gave him a gift at Christmas. It belonged to an Uchiha, the clan crest was there. It has been almost ten years, but Kakashi never understood why Sasuke gave it to him. (He had the courage to pick it just yesterday, as they were to leave tomorrow. It felt too heavy in his pocket. He decided to leave it in his safe box. Sasuke was too heavy, just as Itachi was. He wondered, not for the first time, if Itachi would ever forgive him. If he would ever come back —

It could've been poetic. It wasn't. There was nothing poetic in death and, even less, in those that were left behind. Those you love never die, as long as you never stopped loving them, they will live in your heart, through you. Bullshit. Those you love die and it hurts like hell. Not-poetically he swallowed hard and walked away. 

The stone was wet with his fingerprints — it was that kind of wetness that fogs your mirror after a hot shower; it was almost delicate. Three fingers caressed the rude, rough, yet slim kanji; caressed the dead, as if tucking their hair behind their ear, moving it from their faces; like the deliberated care you have of handling something that might break and fall apart if you ran your fingers roughly. Death isn’t fragile; 

(Bless you friday and how fucking special your are. Fuck you friday and how vertiginous sore you are.)  

Everything was wet today, and not just because of the rain. His face was wet beneath the mask, was it from the drinks or from the tears. Just soaked, dripping, wet. 

Not the good kind of wet, that soaks your panties, that makes you rub your thighs to release some of tightness in your low abdomen when you can’t soak your fingers, not that wet after the summer rain you dance under, not the wet rain Itachi used to cry or the one you used to smile at when you were young with hot cocoa in your small hands, no bathtub wet. 

Bitter wet. 

There are things that simply don't belong — the names didn't belong to the cenotaph, just as much peace doesn't belong in a war. These words didn't belong there. 

And, there, at the meticulously carved stone like an artist, like a sculptor turned white stone into an angel, a man, a rat, anything he wanted. It was like an artist put the words there, shining, glowing, glowing so hard it should make him blind — if he was blind, he would never ever again see the light leaving someone's eyes. There, at this twisted piece of art, were the words, side by side. Just as they died, side by side. They could've been holding hands. 

It didn't belong there. God forbid.

The moon shone and they waved back from the bodiless graveyard.

Naruto Uzumaki    Sasuke Uchiha

"See you later, sensei." A man whispered in a rich, husky voice just a low branch away. Kakashi was already too far away to hear it.