Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the horrifying truth of the human nature

What is the nature of a person? Human nature is a bundle of characteristics, including the way of thinking, feeling, acting, since birth. It refers mostly to the everyday habits that don't change until we want to.

The dark side of our nature is our mysterious and fragile underbelly — our negative, but all too human side. It may be easier to simply avoid looking into the darker aspects of ourselves and our world — the suffering we see everywhere around us, from real world events to the entertainment we consume.

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

It should've ended. It was supposed to. It was written in the stars, all over their bodies and minds. The War should be over by now — except that it wasn't. 

Day after day after day during what must be one month they fought. Underneath the bloody moon, trying to blind them, trying to chain them, they fought. 

But, day after day after day, they fell. One after another, they got caught in the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Until all that was left was nine people. From all the Great Five Nations, only nine people were left. 

In their guts, they felt it was the end. That was it, they tried, they battled in and with their blood, hands turned into claws and despair turned into strength only for it to fucking end there — except that it didn't. 

It was the turning point, the event that changed their lives, that changed the course of history: Madara vanished from the battlefield. 

After a month claiming to be the God of Shinobi, he disappeared, leading them to a different War that would be their demise. 

At the moment, they didn't know that. They couldn't have. No one could see it coming. The pandemonium that was about to rain on them. The War that no one wanted to fight, but had to. 

It was a downfall. 

And, like every fall, you shouldn't be afraid of the fall itself, but of the ground you're going to hit. 

And, man, this ground was 'bout to shatter their bones. 

WHEN THE WAR KEEPS roaring do you dare to live or do you content on surviving?

When it all began, it was a fight for justice and peace. By now, is there anything that is remotely taken as justice? We fight believing in our own justice. But if the enemy is doing the same, who's right? Who's wrong?

Are there any sides left for us to take, to be grounded, to place our feet upon? Because only the dead have seen the end of war. They're ready to die since the day they swore over it when they tied themselves to serving their village, so that's no surprise. But we're all misled to believe in our own pain, our only and pure pain and sorrow.

But aren't we all human?

What are we fighting for? 

"I don't know, Naruto. I guess none of us ever knew." Minato said, leaning on the big rock they were sitting on, Kakashi at his right side, sending smoke to the sky. "But if we're to die, we're to die kicking and screaming, bathed in blood and tears, just as we came to the world."

Naruto tried to smile as his father messed up his hair, that was longer now, tied in a low ponytail at the back of his neck. It wasn't per choice to let it grow. Where they went he didn't have the benefit of scissors and it was dark to try it with a kunai without putting your neck in line, so he gave up. He liked it now.

Even with the dark circles beneath, his eyes were as blue as the sky above, just like his father's — before the sky was filled with smoke. From that far they couldn’t hear any screams, but the smoke was so dense they recognized who was probably behind it.

Birds flew in their direction, coming from the West. 

“They arrived earlier than we expected.” Kakashi said, looking at the sky, probably measuring the time by the position of the sun in it. “Fuckers.”

They rose to their feet, ready to fight. Naruto cracked his knuckles. 

Kakashi stepped on his cigarette. It left a black trait.

"Just like the old times." He smiled beneath his mask and vanished as fast as lightning, only a swirl of leaves behind.

Minato shot a smile at his direction that made Naruto want to ask, for the thousandth time, what memory was that it evoked. Kakashi and Minato always had their own jokes — they had it with Obito before he died, too. Naruto didn’t feel out of place or jealous, he just wanted to be part of the family before he lost them.

Earlier that day, when Kakashi was taking a piss, talking to his summons, catching an apple, jerking off, whatever it was; when his father decided he was far enough not to hear them, he told Naruto that it was in that very rock he told Obito about Sakumo Hatake, Kakashi's father and why he was so restrict and snob.

(Naruto couldn't picture Kakashi being that way. Rude, arrogant, cold and not even twitching his eyes in another's direction, not caring if someone fell lump at his side. His eyes focused on the blood he was about to gather is his screaming loudly hand, counting the enemies one by one, as a prisoner counts the day that passes. That just proved that Naruto knew nothing at all. Minato would never tell him otherwise.)

It was in that rock they were sitting the whole afternoon, setting traps in a 10 km range, positioning mesh, noose, decoy, genjutsu, illusions, snares, pitfalls, scuttle, watchman, trackers, alarms, signals, everything; it was in that same rock that Obito learnt that Kakashi was nothing but the product of a disgrace.

"Naruto?" A sweet voice called from a branch over his head and when he turned around, he saw Hinata, a deep cut in her cheek. She smiled at him, her arm covered in bandages, leaves in her hair and some parts of it were plastered with blood. Nothing new for none of them. “Sakura told you to come North and Lord Forth," she bowed in respect "please, if you may, head East.”

“You can call me just Minato, Lady Hinata.”

She gave him a shy smile, but didn’t blush like she would’ve three years ago. “I can try to work on that.” 

Minato shot them both with his big, warm smile and was gone in a flash of yellow.

“What about you, Hinata? Coming with me?” She shook her head, simply basking for something at her belt. 

“This.” She put a scroll in his hand. “Lady Tsunade sent this. And a knuckle in your head, but I am tired.”

He beamed and scratched the back of his neck, the way he did when was nervous about something — a quirk he inherited from both Kakashi and his father.

"Well, won't lie and say I'm not happy about it, but I really hope you're not chakra depleted tired." He said, eyes wild, always afraid of saying something wrong. "Just, you know, tired."

Hinata laughed a bit. "You really don't change, do you, Naruto?"

He couldn’t help but think how wrong she was. 

He thought about Sakura. About how people used to think about her, how people saw her — the giggles and Sasuke, like she had nothing better to think or to do. How Sakura had her knees, thighs, forearms, hands and face splattered with blood and the shake of her hands. How she tried to whip her forehead with her arm and how the blood just spread instead of cleaning. Even Sasuke looked at her that day — saw her that day. 

He thought about the bridge and how much the bridge changed everything. How much Tazuna, Zabuza, Haku and Gato changed everything. The team of cute genin, blind to the hatred and bloodlust of the world and how one day flipped that world. 

Sasuke and Naruto were too busy fighting Haku and Kakashi was too busy fighting Zabuza, but they all saw when Sakura ripped the throat of that man. And the other man. They saw the tears streaming down her face, but the gleam of her green eyes looked more like a warning than an invitation.

(Naruto always saw Sakura smile like a small star collision, impossible to tear your eyes away and beautiful in all its charm, the strongest weapon of her arsenal, until that day when he saw that her will to live screamed like a child ripped from its mother’s arms — he knew the sound way too well, ‘cause he had to do it more often than he liked to admit.) 

All the blood they shed after the bridge was their downfall. 

Everyone still saw them from what they tried to be: children. Sakura tried, Naruto tried, hell, even Sasuke tried. They laughed and fighted and bickered and Kakashi rolled his eyes and they painted fences and rescued cats and assassinated. There were days they felt worse than ANBU and days they felt like what they were: fucking children. 

With the burden of blood on their shoulders, they finally understood how Itachi and Obito did what they did at such a young age — they were doing the same.

And Hinata, like that, crouched in a branch, ignorant of their past, her clothes torn, her hair fucked up, some scars now for play, she looked much more like the Princess of the Byakugan then she looked when she was calm and collected.

Naruto wished he could say that to her, but he couldn't find the words.

So he just smiled at her the best of his smiles, the one that always screamed Naruto and could brighten the day.

The ground shook beneath their feet and, with a last smile, Hinata sunshined away in a swirl of lilac.

Naruto, too, looked different (his exterior). The War was weighing its toll on him. He didn't wear orange clothes most of the time now. Orange clothes were too much Naruto and Naruto was too much of a target — even though, they all were too much of a target lately.

He learnt to control his temper and to turn Kurama's mode into something that didn't resemble neon, because neon doesn't serve well in battlefields.

His eyes were brighter now because his skin was darker from standing so much in the sun and not always in the Leaf — they spent a shocking amount of time at the Sand and the weather there was a bitch.

The curtain of smoke was growing thicker, so he jumped from the rock. He liked that rock. Too bad it would be nothing but crumbs in the matter of minutes.

When Naruto read the scroll he couldn’t help but smile. 

With one last look he took the view in. It all looked peaceful. It was a shame the last thing he thought before disappearing in the same lighting speed as his father, was that a beautiful moment happened there.

He could hear the screams then. And see the gigantic blue and purple figures rise to fight each other — Susanoo'os (Sasuke’s and Madara’s). It was about time, already.

He knew Sasuke was only there for personal reasons. He wasn't fighting for his Village or for his friends. Sasuke doesn't do feelings. Naruto just didn't know what he was after and if the guy was willing to help in the fight, then fuck it.

Naruto was used by now to the back of Sasuke, having memorized its details. He couldn't, although, remember his smile without a blur replacing it. Guess that's what happens when someone leaves more than stays. 

But Madara finally returned — after fucking vanishing like the fucker he was. And so did Sasuke — who was supposed to be dead, actually. But, then again, he was supposed to be dead time and time again, wasn't he? You just can't never tell with the Uchiha's. 

From afar, when you see a Susanoo'o, you think you're out of the game, that that's out of your league, they are too powerful, much more powerful than you, too much. But, here's the thing: Uchihas don't own the world. 

(Girls do, I read it somewhere.)

So despiste the immensity of their power and their fucking toys, no men, no women, cowered beneath them. They drove their fists, courage and fire and fought — always trying not to let the blood in their lashes fall over their eyes.

(That's what Sakura always did. She always had so, so much blood in her. She shined in her on way, blood turned into ruby to give her the crow she deserved for growing up so fast and 

surviving.

Not only to tell the story, but to teach you how to be as tough as she is and to never fall when others still need you to stand. There are days — weeks, months, years, this whole war and what was yet to come — they wouldn't have the luxury to fall. You don't have the luxury to fail. Not now. And Team 7 was good at this. At the blood dripping. And, surprisingly enough — not that anyone besides Sakura herself and some bits and pieces of Kurenai knew about it — so was Hinata. When she blushed, it was for over extersion, not shyness. That girl died somewhere along the way when someone tried to burn her teammates alive — and so many, many years later when they succeeded to burn alive those two and she wasn't even in the Village for the funeral. Not even Naruto knew the truth about her. Just the tip of the iceberg. He never knew the fire burnt her insecurity and mumbling along with a great fair of skin of her left arm, that nowadays she wears like a trophy of her survival. He never knew the fire was the ignition for her as the bridge was for Sakura. Those women were no longer bent to be broken, they were made to break. Hinata was just a murderer as she was a Hyuga. It was stained in her, now.)

No one could ever dare to imagine that soon, very soon a new Susanoo'o would rise to fight among these two. A Susanoo'o of a man that, supposedly, didn't have the eyes to. But people would come to realise: Susanoo'os are just gigantic manifestations of Uchiha's egos. 

Well, at least, this time, Sasuke was at their side. 

Naruto felt Kurama moving inside him and a smile formed in his lips — a smile only war can forge, rough around the edges where it can strike and rip your skin in the places that hurt the most. 

"Naruto?" Kurama asked inside his mind "Do you miss him?"

The smile faltered, but not entirely. He was no longer that boy and for a long time now. 

"You can miss something and not want it back, Kurama."

So it all fell into muteness — destroy what destroys you.

(Bukowski was wrong. Don't just find what you love and let it destroy you. When you least expect, your thoughts are killing you and there's no escape from within, you cannot run from yourself.

Hilda Haist was right.

“Where do the trains go, father?”

“For Mahal, Tamí, for Camirí, spaces on the map, and then the father laughed: also nowhere, my son, thou can go and even if the train moves, thou doesn’t move from thyself”.

You're trapped and this is both beautiful and terrifying. We're only layers of skin hiding bones and those are too fragile. 

Kakashi sat with him by the fire three nights ago; his father was running the perimeter along Shikamaru and he was with Sakura and a bottle of something strong. 

"I wish I could tell you time heals all wounds," he began, taking a last sip before passing it to him "but we both know the more time you have, the longer the list grows."

It was about time to put an end to it, whatever it means.)

No more beautiful moments to happen there.

Chapter Text

We all have a bit of "I want to save the world" in us, that's why we're here, in the shinobi world; that we were there, in the Academy. I want you to know that's ok if you only save one person and if that person is you.

Part of me died in order to survive. I may grow again, but never will be the same.

Now, we're just strangers with the same memories. 

November 3031, 2 years after the begging of the 4th Great Ninja War

"I thought you were dead." 

"Well, didn't everyone?" 

"You were supposed to be dead." 

"Well, didn't every one too?" 

"What?" 

"What?" 

"What does this mean?" 

"What?" 

"The “everyone should be dead” part." 

"Oh." 

"Oh?" Kakashi asked with his brows raised, his face twisted with annoyance. 

"I heard we were kind of extinct." 

"You sure as fuck were. Then” He stopped himself just as he as about to say “Madara” and tilted his head to the side, searching for something in the man — something he didn’t find. So he continued as if he never stopped. “Madara came out of nowhere, then Obito climbed through the gutter, then even fucking Itachi appears to me—" 

"Itachi appeared to you?" 

"Then you —" He was cut mid sentence. 

"What do you mean by Itachi appeared to you?" 

"Really?” His voice was the perfect mix between annoyance, disbelief and total blankness — the latter winning as all good interrogators have to. “That's the part that caught your attention?" 

"Kinda." 

"Fuck you." Kakashi said pointedly, stating with the same emotion he uses to go please, excuse me, thank you at the market. He then exhaled, shaking his head, lighting the cigarette in one fluid motion. 

Recovering from showing one speckle of emotion, his fist covered in energy met the man’s jaw straight, making two teeth fly out. With a loud sigh that could be mistaken by a course, a weak green chakra checked him and let him in a situation stable enough to continue the interrogatotion.

“Shit fuck, that hurt.” The man said and spit blood to the side.

“That’s what you get when you try to fuck around.”

“I wasn’t!”

“I am the one that does the questioning!” The voice reverberated through the walls with the same strength his lightening used to do. He was made of electricity. The man in the chair didn’t budge. 

“I just wanted — you know me —”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come on, for the old times.” 

Two teeth missing didn’t stop the man from shooting a blinding smile that didn’t carry all the brightness that Gai’s do, but it had some sheepish glee that makes your lips quirk up immediately. 

“Give me something. Now.” The sound of chirping birds began to tweet in the room. An exasperated gasp was heard in front of the man and his smile fell.

“You’re not going to Chidori me.” His voice was way too cracky and desperate to be nonchalant. Chidori was well known. Only the sound of the birds fighting to be the one chirping the loudest answered him. “Are you?” Louder. “Ta—"

“Don’t.” His voice was as dead as all those who met the end of the ball of electricity in his hand. “Don’t call me that. Tell me what do you know. Now. This is the last chance.”

“He wouldn’t like it if you did that.”

The man didn’t even finish the sentence before Kakashi was over him. He flew straight to the ceiling due the way he aimed and his chair broke leaving his body to fall lump on the floor, just one of his ankles still tied and his left arm with the chains, but the wooden arm of the chair gone. 

“What the fuck, Hatake? I thought you were going to Chidori him!” The third person in the interrogation room screamed, exasperated. 

“You thought I would murder a fucking man that surrounded himself peacefully offering intel and information without asking nothing in exchange?” 

He had only one eyebrow raised and gave just an eye corner glare. He smiled reassuring anyway. “We will get there.” 

He turned his eyes to his forever present book. Except that the book that was open in his hand had none of the letters of Jiraya’s, but the infos they gathered the last months. As he had an infinite collection and very much the same copy, not even the special edition or anything like that, he sacrificed the books, turning them into endless pages of data, info they could obtain. 

Since Madara fled the battlefield over a year ago, they had to deal with what was left: nothing. 

Their only connection to Madara was Obito and he was now dead. Kabuto and Orochimaru were out of the picture as well, so the Allied Forces dug the whole Great Nations over anything useful. They dug up ghosts, ditched out rivalries, scooped every single inch of everything. All scrolls they could lay hands onto, all bandits they could snitch, all underground labs, hide outs, every fucking thing. Still, they always came back empty handed. They had dozens of undercover missions ongoing, but what were they really undercovering in? The allies? Once they were all in the same boat, that seemed to make everything harder. 

Working together was faster. It wasn’t easy, though. The tension between the nations was building up again. Day in, day out they found rogue ninjas attacking each other’s lands. One year may not seem longer, but in a world used to be with a kunai at its embrace into sleep, every feather seems a threat. One year ago, the only threat was Madara and all the puppets; now he was out of the picture and everyday he was looking more and more like a faded nightmare, so it was easy to see enemies in the ones that were right in front of you. 

The distrust was rising, mostly, because of the random attacks — that always seemed to leave a mark behind that sounded too close to comfort like the signature of another one of the nations. The kages had been in touch with each other almost every week to make sure the peace would remain.

Everyday the attacks didn't seem to be so random anymore nor reckless. They seemed to have a purpose, to have targets. To have knowledge — of them, of what they did, how they fought, who they were. It sounded way too much like a déjà vu for anyone to be at ease.

Nothing happened yet, but everyone felt in the air it could happen at any minute. 

And Sasuke disappeared so timed in perfection with Madara that even the man himself might’ve suspicious. The Five Nations were beyond suspicion about Sasuke for ages now; they wanted to feast on Sasuke like wild beasts. They were fucking wrathful — if they wanted Sasuke’s head before, now they wanted it toasted and shappened into little flamingos. 

The Uchiha should be extinct. 

A groan made Kakashi take his eyes out of his annotations and the sound of two bottles put down on a table, a pair of eyes turning its attention to the man on the floor.

“Mornin’.” Kakashi said with his forever eye crease. A snort was heard. 

“That really hurt. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I don’t kill and tell.”

Despite the blood coming from his nose and mouth he laughed and if his arm wasn’t broken and hurting so much he could’ve even point at him and say “I saw what you did there, I don't kill and tell, I dont kiss and tell, haha Hatake”. But it was hard to breathe. 

Kakashi was leaning onto one chair in the fair middle of the room and brought it to the middle, while the healer sat the man in it while the green chakra made sure he wasn’t to die. Relieving the pain, however, wasn’t part of the deal (yet).

"Yeah, Itachi appeared to me." Kakashi said out of nowhere while the man was finishing being tied to the chair. 

(The healer was making a ridiculous purposeful amount of strength to tie the man to the chair when Kakashi said that. At his words — a gap, a crack into his armor, the shock was such that by turning the head so fast a twirl of hair hit the man square in his face and the locks became heavy with the amount of blood. It was completely washed in blood in the mere seconds it nested in the prisoner's face. Some people would add some relief of pain, would be shaken in the face of the raw nature of interrogation. But in that room, there were no innocents. They all had seen their amount of interrogations and seen their amount of collateral damage when they don’t cooperate. The healer didn’t take pity — his arm was pressed harder and his eyebrow bled more.)

"When I died." Kakashi was looking at his book, his finger running over some words — for once, he was actually reading. 

"What?" The man still had the vocal chords to sound loud.

Kakashi just kept examining the dossier, making a mental note here and there. 

"Really, I mean it." The prisoner was suddenly very serious. 

("Oh, that you want to talk about?" The third voice raised, the anger in those words poisonous enough to melt the floor. That was sushed with the wave of a hand. Kakashi didn’t miss the way those eyes widened at him and how he wasn’t yelled at because the mouth was too busy gaping. The man didn't see it.) 

"You died too?" The man almost whispered. 

Kakashi said nothing, and the room was filled with nothing but the angry breathing and the blood trickling in the floor. 

One step was taken in the direction of the man, a fist closed, knuckles already smudged. He wasn't in that beat up condition for nothing. Shit, no Kakashi whispered so low it was a doubt someone besides him heard. 

"How?" He asked in a zippy tone.

The man seemed eager to know, like a puppy waving its tail when his owner comes home. ("I am going to rip his head" Kakashi made another shush hand and "I am going to rip your head—" 

He hissed under his breath. Calm down he said, it seemed. The fuck I will, something akin was said. The man laughed. He was signing his death sentence and didn't even know.) 

Kakashi decided it was for the best just to say it already.

"Yes, I did. I died."

The confession didn't seem to ease his eagerness. 

"I got it, but how?" 

"Why do you care?" 

"Why not?" 

"You haven't spoke shit since you've come here. Why should I say something?" 

"Dunno." He just shrugged. 

His nose was broken and his voice was a bit nasal, some blood dripping down his chin. His left eye was a deep purple with black on the corners and two of his fingers were broken. He was fighting against the pain, breathing hard, but was still humorous. It was amusing to watch.

Kakashi got fucking tired of it. 

Before another threat came from over his shoulder he punched the man. And again. And again. He punched him about nineteen times before he passed out. The main focus were his nose, his chin, his stomach and a prod just for good on the crotch. 

A whistle followed by a “Oh my” and Kakashi thought it was Anko in the room. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Hatake.”

“You sound like Anko.” That seemed to be an insult good enough for him to be left alone.

He went to check in his book and they stayed in silence. He was trying to see if he missed somehow, somewhere how that man was alive, how they would have underseen something like that, something that big.

When his eyes were losing focus over the letters on his book, he looked over at the man splattered on the floor, the strong green chakra into his chest, he decided it was time enough of an interrogator-break — if such a thing existed. He just didn't want to do this.

“How is he?” This time he was hand shushed and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. After a few seconds he felt his patience wearing thin. “Are we really —” 

The hand came up again to shush him. 

“Don't be a child there, Hatake. Be quiet.” He lighted a cigarette. “Oh, and light one for me too.” 

With one cigarette in his hand and the other in his mouth, the woman came to sit by his side at a table. 

“Why did you shush me?”

“His chakra paths.” She took a deep drag and went silent. 

“That is fucking magnificent. What about it?”

“They are working in perfect condition, but I noticed I was the first one to touch them, heal them in ages.”

“How long would “ages” be?”

“Over ten years.”

Both his eyebrows rose until they were lost in his hairline. 

“That is downright impossible."

"Uhum. In a ninja world, with ninja fights, with ninja healers."

“How long is he here?” 

“Six days, Kakashi. You told us to only call you if we couldn’t get nothing.” Her voice was much more soft now.

He ran his hand over his face and took a drag and a sip. A ton of papers were all over the table. All the notes they took of what the prisoner said. The things they got were in the line of:

"I heard old man Teuchi is ‘bout to get some concorrence”;

"When I was four, we had a swing that the older men, just imagine, set on fire when they had a fight. If they fought a lot? You tell me.”;

“My dog died when I was on a mission”;

“I hate spicy food most of the time”;

"Land of Water fucking sucks at winter”;

“I once met a man with ginger hair that had his own punk band and he was good on mosh pits. You don’t know what a mosh pit is? What kind of interrogator are you?”; “

"My mom was a kunoichi, thank you very much, we used to get takeouts or to get food from my cousin”;

"Yeah, I had a girlfriend once. How is that not what you asked me? You asked me to tell you something.”; 

With both hands on the table, he leaned into it, looking at all the papers scattered, sparse, aplenty papers. They took notes on all the official things he said (that were mostly bullshit), his state, his body heat, his weight, his condition, his diet, his reflexes, his official record when he popped in. Everything. All they had on him on the past, all they gathered now. They were trying to make sense of a puzzle with missing parts. This prisoner was the missing part of a grand picture.

He was sadly set aside, because right after him a firework show exploded and he went straight to a locker that had tons of dust when they looked into it now.

“It has to be something here.” 

“You are the genius.”

He gave her a dark look, which she just shrugged off, but he saw the thin lines in her lips. 

“Kakashi,” She called over from her place in the table after a while, he just hummed, not even lifting his head, “we are gonna laugh of this stupid shit one day.”

“I know. I just wish I was fucking laughing now.”

“Well," she began reading

“When I lost my virginity, you see, it was with a civilian girl, fuck clan shit, but she actually said another man’s name. Yeah, that hurt.”

or

“Once my team captain had gonorrhea."

She pointely looked at him and he just gave her the middle finger, which made her laugh. “Really, I want to make him swallow his teeth, but when he’s unconscious I feel less murderous and, come on,” she grabbed a piece of paper, looking rather proud of herself, “I remember vividly having a nightmare of a wood-faced terrifying man.”. I bet Tenzo would be proud of himself. And if he knows Tenzo —”

“Yamato.”

“Oh, fuck off. If he knows Tenzo and knows his creepy face we’re just…” she sighed, putting the papers back, but Kakashi understood. He was looking at paper after paper and searching over his book. 

“Something is missing.”

“My teeth.” The man said from the floor.

“Ready to talk?”

“Can'try.” The man was obviously now struggling with speaking, so the woman healed him superficially, making sure no vital points were affected and helping with his teeth. He tried to mouth a thank you, but didn’t quite manage with the amount of blood coming out of his mouth. 

Kakashi had a pained expression on his face. None of them could see, both had their backs to him. She was healing and sitting him more properly and Kakashi was left looking at them, his arms crossed in front of him, his back to the wall, the table with the man's life at his side. Maybe one day he could describe to someone how much it was for him to conduct this interrogation. 

Once the man was sitting in the chair, his features now recognizable and less swallowed, but still bruised, Kakashi, again, just blurted, his voice as impassive as ever. 

"Pain, from the Akatsuki. He killed me when he invaded the village." 

"And how are you alive?" 

"I could ask you the same." 

The man hissed a bit when he tried to take a deep breath — his rib was broken, and the rest of him sure as hell wasn't okay. With just a look Kakashi signaled for the man to be partially out of pain — he looked about to enter in shock.

(When she kneeled to heal him, she didn't care anymore. Her hair was still plastered with blood and she could feel it tickle her face. Looking at him, for the thousandth time, never lost the same effect. Not having eyes to look back at her was worse than being stared at.)

With a sound of relief and the sound of a cigarette being smashed into the floor he simply said: "How did Itachi appear to you? Was he still alive?" 

Clearing his throat, Kakashi fled the question. 

"You were right on "everyone should be dead", but apparently no one really dies, do they?" 

"They kinda do." The man said matter of fact, lifting just one shoulder, his face telling them he oughta be really helpful stating that.

"Who died?" 

"Do you want to do this in chronological order?" 

It was the limit.

Tsunade hit the table with her hand so roughly it broke the thing in two, leaving some dust up (and messing up completely all the papers). All Kakashi could do was sigh.  

This time Kakashi's hand couldn't shush her and she seemed ready to rip his hand off. Tsunade didn't like to be shushed. She only agreed on staying in silence and not letting all of her healing chakra take place because Kakashi thought it was better for her to remain unknown as much as possible. The man didn't seem to know she was once the Hokage so he could be kept in the dark a while longer. 

"Stop shitting me, you brat. Start talking or you won't be able to feel the relief of a healed wound until another one is made." 

"So, it really is the Slug Princess. It is an honour to finally meet you." 

Tsunade didn't seem flattered as she pulled the man in her direction with enough strength to dislocate his shoulder to which he howled with the knockdown pain. 

"Tsunade!" Kakashi hissed, again, now saying her name, when he took her hands out of him and she let go of him, letting him fall as a piece of pudim. He was still holding her hands and even though he was much taller than her, she was looking him in the eye and what seemed to be the beginning of a I’ve told you already discussion the man said, for the first time in almost one week, something worthy:

“He used to always talk about you.” He said in a relaxed tone, even though he had now one more bone in his body causing him pain. 

“Who? Who, boy? Who talked about me?” Tsunade was over him, grabbing him by his shirt again, but not so violently. 

He smiled, toothless, but his eyes turned to her, as if he was happy. “Orochimaru.”

Her hands glowed green without him saying anything. In a heartbeat all his injuries were healed, but she didn't give him the benefit of the pain release. Just bones mending and bruises leaving without the numbness they could put with their chakra. 

“So, I take you still care for your old team mate?”

“Do you?” Kakashi asked back and the man, for the first time, retracted into himself. Tsunade lifted one eyebrow. 

Orochimaru wasn’t a taboo between them, but it wasn’t discussed without the presence of everyone. It was for the best, they decided.

When it came to Orochimaru, the discussion always pointed to everywhere and nowhere. He was always in the middle of something and in nothing at all. There were times Orochimaru seemed the best shit ever, the man that was everywhere and knew everyone, managed to get into every hole, but the truth was that he was trying to survive and he was just half good at it. None of them feared him like they used to when they were young. He was just another rogue ninja. 

But, an interrogation seemed to be the very exception to explore the topic and he was so talkative out of nowhere, but Orochimaru had betrayed them so many times they wouldn't risk it. It could be just him throwing a bait after he didn’t have anything else. Orochimaru was always an ace upon the sleeve.

Tsunade made a point to heal him terribly slowly, mostly making pressure over his wounds and causing more pain before the healing ended. 

"Tsunade..." Kakashi said, asked tiredly and, after a few seconds, she gave in and the man was ready to go. She left a bruise with the shape of her hand over his arm, though. 

"Okay!" The man raised his hands, bruise in place, in not-so mocked surrender. "Okay. I will collaborate." 

"You don't have to "collaborate", kid. That word we use to war prisoners, nice war prisoners. You came for yourself. Even though I'm beginning to think we should've thought of something a bit worse for — Oh, finally!" She interrupted herself and turned to the door. 

Ibiki marched in, just shooting a look at the broken table and placed a few tools at the floor, just where Kakashi had stepped on his cigarette. 

(It's funny how it always left black traces. Asuma's didn't.) He then handed a small bottle to each Hokage-ish in the room and left a bigger one beside the tools. Tsunade whispered something that sounded a lot like "set the boy on fire for a show" to which Kakashi regarded her with a hard look over his drink. On the top of her magnitude Tsunade stuck her tongue out and Kakashi was left wondering if Sakura and Tsunade hadn't crossed the limit of time one can spend with another. 

The door closed with a click and Ibiki stepped to the middle of the room, his hitai-ate hiding his bald battle scars. His face was as dangerous as always. 

He looked at the man from head to toe. Took in his disheveled hair, his riven clothes, the way the dry blood was all over him, his dry lips with fresh scars — the fresh scars all over him from the interrogation, the old scars from his life, the way his smile was boyish under the layers of pain and hours of torture, the absence of his eyes, two shallow spots regarding him back, his hands with bones in awkward positions. Everything in him screamed homeless plus interrogated and that image never was pretty. The smile, still, was out of the picture, escaping the frame.

"So it is true. You're alive." 

"Pretty much, uhum." 

"And you came back with an attitude." 

"Wouldn't say I did—" 

"I wasn't asking." 

"Oh" 

"Okay." 

He double checked the boy again and turned to Tsunade. 

"What do we have?" 

The eye exchange between her and Kakashi wasn’t missed by Ibiki. 

"We have a lot of my patience lost in here. I swear to God I didn't throw a chair at his face 'cause there isn't any here beyond the one he's sitting on." 

"Yeah, I know," Kakashi said, rolling his cigarette in his fingers "I asked them to remove anything that could be thrown.” 

"What? Why the fuck? I could've — this could've gone a lot faster if I — how dare you?" 

"Tsunade!" The woman fixated her gaze at his face, her face flushed and looking like she could throw him. "Calm down. You're not good at the whole information gathering." 

"What?" 

“You need to keep your cool." The prisoner answered instead of Kakashi, flashing a smile, like he was being truly helpful. 

"Oh, you brat!" 

Apparently, both men forgot how fast Tsunade could be because in a blink of an eye the man was punched to the wall that cracked minimally (interrogation rooms have to have the strongest walls for obvious reasons, but of course Tsunade would be able to crack it).

Kakashi sighed with a hand in his temple and felt he was again dealing with a team of gennin. 

"Tsunade! Jesus Christ, calm down.”

“Why the fuck would I calm down? We’re walking in circles. This fucker probably came here just to seek shelter.”

“We’re still at peace.” Ibiki said flatly and still with his face resembling a doberman ready to jump and drool between his teeth. 

“For the moment.”

“You ruined the chair, Tsunade.” Kakashi pointed. 

“Fuck the chair.” She was fumbling, tidying up her clothes, dusting them off. They looked at the man laying at the floor — for the third time of the day. He wasn’t moving. “Oh fuck, don’t tell me I killed him.”

“You didn’t.” Kakashi waved with his hand while he was handed a chair by the door. He raised the man off the ground with one hand and set him with another. This chair didn’t have arms, just a seat and a backboard. He was slipping out and Kakashi had to hold him to avoid him from falling face flat to the ground.

“He’s out again.” 

“Why are you giving me this look, boy? Every punch this boy took was well deserved. Now wake him up.”

“You’re the medic.”

“Enough with this bullshit.” Tsunade hit the ground with her feet and it made a whole on the concrete. The floor was also harder than the regular ones. “Enough! I am not going to be shushed anymore nor suppress my chakra.” She marched in the direction of Kakashi. “Get the fuck out of my way.” He rose up carefully, eyeing her strangely. She put both hands in the man’s temple. “Wake the fuck up, boy!”

The man jolted awake and his not-eyes (his sock balls) widened, his back straight. 

“I’ve had enough of this. I am the Fifth Hokage and you all will treat me as such. You included, Hatake. I don’t care if you wear the hat now. I will bow to no one, kid.” 

Knowing better than trying to placate her, Kakashi just shook his head in understanding and let her. 

“Ok, kid, I am sick tired of this. You haven’t proved being valuable to us so far. We can feed you to the wolves in the blink of an eye. If you just marched here thinking your name would protect you, you were dead wrong. You are lucky you are alive, because your name is almost a curse here and you should've known better.”

“I do know.” His voice was throttled, but serious. “I know about my name.”

“Why did you use it then?”

“Would you hear me otherwise?” 

His voice was tired and broken, his gleefulness lost in the cracks of the wall. 

(It clicked inside Tsunade. She had a jumpstart based on her descendance. How serious would she be treated without being a Senju? At her time, during the Second War, women were nothing but medic-nin. She became a Legendary Sannin. But would’ve she even have had the chance to try to prove her worth without this backup? She was just a girl like many others. She would have remained the same. People were now threatened by her intelligence and her strength, but would the Third Hokage take her under his wing if she was just a blonde temperamental girl? Would he value her? Or would she be what Sakura was to Kakashi?)

“In the end, all you have is your name.” He said, low, in a voice so soft only Tsunade could hear and smiled and she could fucking see her little brother there, in that smile. Not all the ninja had to say they wanted to be Hokage to shatter her with her grief. That man managed. 

In the silence that stretched, Tsunade kept eyeing him, until she gave him her back and drank with drops falling over her chin. 

“What did he tell you?" Ibiki asked, massaging his temple. 

Ibiki was a very collected and closed man. Very few people managed to get on his nerves and Tsunade was one of those. 

"Nothing!” The moment passed. The man smiled. “He didn't tell me anything! Not one useful thing. And then Hatake decided it was better if he didn't know it was me." 

"Hatake was right." 

"I fucking know Hatake was right." If she could throw something or slam her hands at something, she would've. Instead, she just waved her hands and her hair was falling loose. "It didn't fucking work. The boy knew it was me." 

"What did he know?" 

"About the village?" Kakashi answered leaning into one pillar. "Not much. He was alien to most news, so he didn't know about me being the Hokage and knew mostly about whispers about Tsunade, nothing concrete." 

"The War?" Ibiki raised his eyebrows. 

The I&T usually (never) discuss anything in front of the prisoners, but this one was different. There was no need to hide these things from him. It wasn’t like they were discussing the nothingness he gave them so far.

"Didn't fight in it." Ibiki wrigled a eyebrow but Kakashi waved him off, taking another sip. "Was at a civilian village, but protected them through Madara's." 

"The whole month?" His voice was cruel and dead as ever despite the surprise.

"Uhum." The three of them turned to him. "I was very helpful. Not completely useless." 

In a flare of chakra that seemed to heat the whole room, Ibiki summoned The Cage. Tsunade's lips quirked in a cruel smile. Kakashi drank. 

Apparently, the man’s good humour was the last thing people wanted from him. On the other hand, he was perfect at pushing people’s strings.

Immediately, he was out of his chair and pressed against the iron cell, straps closed over his wrists and ankles.

"Why aren't you cooperating?" Ibiki said marching in front of him.

"I am!" It was impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

"You aren't." Kakashi reminded him in a way that sounded a lot the way he talked to Naruto when he said something stupid. 

"What do you know about Madara Uchiha?" 

"Almost nothing." 

"Almost?" 

The man cringed. 

"I know what everybody knows. Legendary shinobi, founder of The Leaf, came back from the dead and started a war." 

"And that's all?" 

"That's all." 

"Why should we believe in you?" 

"Why not?" He asked in a tone akin to defiance. Morino hated defiance. 

Ibiki's summon glued to one of his arms and, keeping his whole body in place, pulled it to a point it almost fell off the junt. 

"Fuck! What's the need of doing that? I am telling —" 

"I am going to ask again. What do you know about Madara Uchiha?" Ibiki leaned, his hands crossed over his back, his face dangerously close even if the man couldn’t see, he could feel the hot breath on his face. 

"I fucking told you already!" The smile was gone. A grimace of pain took its place. "I know shit about him." 

“You seemed to know a lot just two seconds ago.”

“A lot?” A harder push. “Fuck shit. I don’t know shit about him.”

“How do you know about the War?”

“Is there someone that doesn’t?”

Morino straightened his back and knee kicked him in the stomach. The man spit blood. 

His arm was so straight and pulled to the side it made him look like half a puppet.

“Do you like the pain, boy?” Ibiki almost barked at his face. He didn't like when people didn't get scared right away. He hated Pain's summon and, out of the part of being just an empty vessel, that man reminded him of that. 

He didn't seem close to breaking.

Kakashi could see the retort coming (you’re the one that jerks off on it) and stepped in.

“How do you know about it? How do you know about the war?”

“Everyone knew.” He was panting. “Even the civilians. They took a lot of —” he was having a hard time breathing, sweat falling from his temple and his face was growing pale. “Many, many were killed. They didn’t know who Madara was.”

“Then how did you know the war was against him?”

“People talk.” 

He went silent and it couldn’t be said if it was due to the pain or stubbornness. 

“Morino.” Tsunade ordered with a shake of her head. His arm was pulled harder and the skin was ripped. His baw filled the room and seemed to enter their minds like a woodworm. “Unlike you.” She finished with a strong voice.

The man was looking at them, laboured breath and his empty eye balls were producing tears.

“Shinobi.” He said finally. 

Tsunade healed his wound, making it stop the bleeding and at the moment his face was about to contort to relief, she pressed with enough strength to crush his bones.

“Fuck! Fuck woman!”

“Talk.” Ibiki ordered, low and deliberated.

“You," He spat, as a course "you shinobi, you talk. Every village you walk in, you leave whispers behind. (You leave bodies behind) I only managed to pull all the pieces together in time to protect them.” 

That was enough of an answer for the day.

"Where have you been in the last ten years?" 

"Around?" He said as in a question, no humor, but with humor still. The string pulled even more. He didn't say anything else. 

"Around?" He was quiet. "Just around?" Another pull. Ibiki was growing impatient.

The bone falling out of place was heard among the howls, the guttural sound. If he screamed when Tsunade hurt him, that was a whole new level of Dante’s Inferno. Tsunade wasn't smiling anymore. 

"Tell us about it." Kakashi's voice came down like a thunderstorm over the place. Yet, over the screams, a storm is always welcome. 

He was screaming over the pain, but it was nothing more than they already knew — been around, alien to the world, small villages, knew things, heard things over the decades. Nothing concrete.

Ibiki looked at them, asking for quiet permission. 

He proceeded. 

The summoned cage was in the process of attaching his whole body to the golden iron chains (not even Kakashi had seen what they do, just the results) when he said:

"An old lady!" He all but shouted.

Ibiki didn't stop his ministrations, but raised one eyebrow — minimally — Tsunade tilted her head to the side and Kakashi could feel how his eyes were burning holes through the man.

"An old — old lady once told me that when a dog bites the worse is —" He had to catch his breath before proceeding "the amount of blood than the momentary pain. Did you know that?" He looked at Ibiki. He looked so much like the goddamned fucking doll, all tied up and ready to die in pain, but smiling, talking about fucking dogs. "The stitches only hurt later, when they open —" 

(Something flickered in the air. Not outside, not something Kakashi even recognized at the moment. Something flickered out of the man’s body. A body’s flicker under his eyes would go through only the sharingan and then: 

"Fucking changed my mind." Kakashi pushed himself off the wall, his eyes dark. "Tsune, please, leave." 

"Hatake, what are you—" 

"Just leave.” 

The summoned cage disappeared, leaving the man to fall half to his feet beside the chair. He didn’t have the strength to pull himself up.

Ibiki didn't need an order. 

"Lord Hokage." He bowed as he left. Kakashi's cut this bullshit was said to the closed door. 

“Fix him.”

"You don't talk to me like that, boy!" Tsunade was with her finger pointed so closely to his face it was a surprise she didn’t pull out his eyes as well. 

“Tsunade, the man is bleeding on the floor and he will get into shock before I can say “suflair”.” Her chest was expanding and her hand was raising and he didn’t know if it was to slap him or lecture him. “Please, Tsune?”

“You take this.” She put a pill down the man’s throat, sitting him up. Kakashi raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Jesus fuck, don’t you listen to her rambling?” 

“Oh.”

“Hum, would you two mind telling me what she just shoved down my throat? It would be anticlimactic to die poisoned after a week of torture.” The man's voice was raspy, and he was laying on the floor, his mouth full of blood, his whole frame looked so minimal. 

"Oh man." Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And, well, be glad she doesn’t rip your eyes off. It sucks to live without them.”

Even Tsunade’s finger stopped in the air. 

He had to be fucking kidding.

Questions like “How does he know her finger is at his face?” or “Did he hit his head so hard he doesn’t know when to stop joking?” or, the one they kept asking, “Is he really blind?”, but at the stupid joke Kakashi felt the urge to burst into laughter. 

That was it, the joke was funny, he wanted to laugh, but he wasn't allowed to. He nevertheless chuckled a bit to himself and the six eyes drove into him instantly. Tsunade's forehead vein throbbed and the man just fell into a little chuckle himself — six eyes because the last pair of eyes were from Sakura that was perched just out of the window, prying. A second later she was caught by Morino and almost fell off. Kakashi laughed a little more. No one asked why. The few pros of being the Hokage. 

Still smiling, Kakashi turned to him, and punched him punctually in the face. It was clear as the day that Tsunade wanted to do the same. Her eyes were frantically rushing through the whole room and at every second her face grew redder. She was still searching for something to break or to throw or some shit like that. The woman was fumbling and heat along with chakra was circling her. A fair man would probably back off, but Kakashi didn't give a single removably shit.

"You sound like a teenager. Please, leave and break some things outside." 

She didn't move an inch and the murderous stare was now directed to him. She really looked like a rebellious teenager, with such a young face and temper. He really wasn't up to put with any of this — the interrogation, Tsunade, the war, the way his stomach roared, the smiling man with an already growing slowly bruise at his cheek. He just was fucking thirsty and he wanted nothing but drink himself 'till he choke on his vomit and die. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the weight of being Hokage, being a prodigy ninja, being a drunk, everything. He held back a sigh.  

"I let you pick the tool I'll use." Kakashi said, defeated. 

It was like offering a candy to a small child in exchange of its goddamn silence — except it was so twisted it was like buying a ticket straight to hell or something like that. 

The woman just gave a sinister grin and even his blood ran cold. She eyed thoughtfully the tools at the floor: a small axe, a sharp little knife, a really big scissor, a thumbscrew, a whip, an electroshock weapon (his favourite. He would always put his own electricity), a instep borer, a tanto, (for fuck's sake) a katana, a boot (used to crash injuries, don't be fooled. One type was made of four pieces of narrow wooden board nailed together. The boards were measured to fit the victim's leg. Once the leg was enclosed, wedges would be hammered between the boards, creating pressure. The pressure would be increased until the victim confessed or lost consciousness. Newer variants have included iron vises—sometimes armed with spikes—that squeezed feet and metal frames employed red-hot), a hammer, a nipper, a saw and a switchblade.

He remembered an article he read ages ago about torture methods some sick preachers would use on heretics. 

"While the accused heretics were on strappado or the rack, inquisitors often applied other torture devices to their bodies. These included heated metal pincers, thumbscrews, boots, or other devices designed to burn, pinch or otherwise mutilate their hands, feet or bodily orifices (...)" 

He was good at torture, just as he was good at everything. He didn't have any hesitation to retrieve information. He often killed the victims after the suffering that made them sell their souls — no use on keeping someone who might speak someday — leaving no trace of his actions. But now he couldn't actually kill him afterwards. He didn't even know if he would kill him at any time. 

But, right now, he resigned to punch and poke him with sharp objects, hot metal burns, hang him upside down by the hands till it resulted on a dislocated shoulder, boil a soup under the fire underneath his seat, pull all his limbs each way stretching the skin, slit his ankles and ask him to run, cut little fingers, make so much noise he would throw up and pass out, expose him to exaggerated light and then let him meet darkness for what would seem eternity, not letting him sleep, starve him, whip his legs and arms, puncture nails at his hands, poke slowly under his fingernails just for then rip it away, he would rip off the new eyes he had, hit him on the spots that would hurt for days, tie and smash his balls, burn his tongue, rip his teeth; the list went on: blinding with light, bone breaking, branding, castration, water torture, cold cell, combing, crushing, cutting, dehydration, drowning, dry-boarding, dunking, flagellation, foot roasting, foot whipping, hamstringing, hypothermia, impalement, keelhauling, kneecapping, noise, oxygen deprivation, pressure points, sawing, scalping, sensory overload, shinbone crusher, sound (extremely high volumes, dynamic range, low frequency, high pitched noise, intended to interfere with rest, cognition and concentration), strappado (also known as "reverse hanging"), stress positions, thumbscrew, waterboarding... 

Without counting the psychological torture — if he had the will to do it today.

But he wouldn't kill him. 

And the best was that he could heal him to perfection and then do it all again. 

Kakashi felt her chakra signature in front of the window that showed the interrogation room — she managed to pass by Ibiki and return to the window. 

Sakura had not only seem, but inflicted a lot of torture methods, some she learnt from watching him. She knew he was looking directly and precisely where she was. She shifted her leg from one leg to another. She wasn't sure what she was waiting to see, but she felt compelled. When Tsunade closed the door, she eyed her skeptically, but her face dropped when she saw the look on Sakura's face: Determination. Anger. Outrage. Chagrin. Madness. Displeasure. But the most shocking one was the familiarity her eyes leaked. 

Tsunade knew from that moment that Sakura wasn't not even remotely the girl she once knew.

War changes everyone. 

(She just didn't expect Sakura to change so much.) 

The girl panicked at a genjutsu of her childish crush impaled and, now, she was just staring as she was about to predict his movements. Sakura now knew as much (too much) about torture as the next guy down at the T&I complex, poking someone's eye out. She accompanied Kakashi in many, many mission where torture was part of the game. She wouldn't faint over a genjutsu even if she wanted to.

But all that everyone outside the room could see departed, vanished when the whole room went black. He had placed a jutsu that wouldn't allow any of them to see or hear what was going on.

Few had the privilege to use that seal, berate an interrogation room. Even amongst interrogators, even amongst ANBU it was rare. Hell, even amongst the Hokages. 

Sakura was pure ire at this moment. Kakashi could sense it, but he had more pressing matters in hand. The man was their best lead to anywhere as they had nowhere else to go and everyone wanted to take a look at it, but Kakashi just now realised the man would open up to him only. 

And that made perfect sense. 

Kakashi dragged a chair (he caught when he got Tsunade out of the door) into the room and put it directly in front of the interrogated. He lifted his head slowly, his face stoic and his eyes betraying nothing. 

"You know me. You know me. You know what I am capable of. You've seen me do it enough times already, but you were never at the end of it.” He put one foot over the seat of an iron chair, leaning both of his arms into his leg, the other one on the floor. He lit another cigarette. “You are today. And I suggest you talk."

The silence stretched until he hit his left hand with an enormous strength with the hammer and the sound of broken bone filled the room. The boy spat blood from trying to bite his own tongue so as not to scream. Kakashi slapped his face. 

“Don’t fucking do it.” 

The man was breathing hard, blood already dripping from his chin and his hand.

"I can't see why you don't talk. Shit." 

Taking a deep drag, running his hand over his overly messy gray hair, nails meeting the scalp, Kakashi closed his eyes and did his best to copy Kakuzu’s jutsu and turned his hand into something earthy — and hit the man’s side with full strength. The cracking bones filled the room.

Kakashi immediately healed the worst damage — he always did that in interrogations. 

"Why aren't you talking?" 

When the man didn't say anything, barely opened his eyes, he sighed and lifted the hammer again only to smash it at the wood of where his arms were tied. At the shock of not being attacked combined with the pain of actually being attacked, he opened his eyes. What was left of his eyes as all the man had was two hollow balls. 

His sight was a bit terrifying. His hair was long, a beard tickled his chin, his face and visible body were full of nasty scars and he had no eyes. His whole body was covered in blood at one point or another, his face was pointing in strange angles from being badly healed. He was bone and flesh, his skin pale. Children would have nightmares about him forever. 

Kakashi kept taking drags on his cigarette while the eyeless eyed him. With a loud sigh he smashed his cigarette at the man's left hand. He hissed and contorted his face, breath ragged.

"That," Kakashi pointed with his thumb to the door "that, what you said, it was about my father." 

The man just kept breathing and hissing, looking like a caged animal left in the open wild. 

"Talk." 

It was an order. Not an interrogation one, but a fielding one. One you don't disobey. 

Sighing a deep sigh, the man finally spoke, none of the boyish bubbled through him this time.

"They can't hear us." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Kakashi didn't answer. "Yes. It was about him. The White Fang."

Kakashi stood in silence, shaking his head and taking drags from his cigarette. He had so many questions, about that, about how he knew that, so many things, that he remained silent, locked up in his own head. 

Clearing his throat and then grunting in pain, the man said. "Okay. What do you want to know?" 

"How are you alive?" 

"I wasn't supposed to. I was ready to die, it was my intent.” He stopped, considering his words. “I just ended lying in pain, with a twisted wrist and an ankle, shoulder broken, another one dislocated, just a inch of a broken spine — tough luck — a broken arm, the femur was terribly fucking exposed fracture. There was no point in trying to distinguish broken bones from scratches from what could’ve been burns in other lives. It just hurt like hell. Blood was coating me everywhere and I have never wished death so much.” It was like he was seeing all of that again, all his body completely unusable, lying waiting for dead. “But death didn't come. A farmer did." He skirmishes on the chair. Kakashi placed his hand above his and he shrunk further in the chair. His hand began to glow green. 

"I am shitty at healing, but I can try enough so it stops hurting so much." He muttered below his breath, his voice as detached as ever while he was trying to piece everything together, but nothing made sense still. "Go on." 

"The farmer took me to his house and rolled me up in bandages. He wanted to take me to a hospital, but I didn't let him. I told him I wanted to die and, well, I couldn't see it, but I am pretty sure he looked exasperated. He just shoved me further in the bed and said he was still bringing wood to the house and he would be back in a few hours. Before he left he gave me water and I drank like a golden fish that got back to the ocean." He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head a bit. "I didn't want to die. I had to." After swallowing hard, he dropped his head and Kakashi was sure he would be leaning his arms to his knees if he could, so he untied the man after finishing poorly fixing his other hand. 

"Do you smoke?" Was blurted abruptly. 

"Well, not really. And I am almost sure you didn't as well, taic—" 

"I didn't, but I do now." That being said he shoved the cigarette onto the man's mouth and lit it. He didn't complain and didn't choke. Sure as hell he had smoked before, but who didn't? At some point in life everyone smokes, even if just a drag. Human curiosity was something else. And, if not by curiosity, someone always shoved a cigarette down their throat just for 'Give it a try'. 

That was how he smoked for the first time. He was eleven and an older guy on a mission just tucked the cigarette to his mouth and he coughed all the way long. He only smoked again two years later, the day Obito died. The day Obito died changed absolutely every aspect of his life. Was the first time he got drunk too, despite his small frame walking into the bar. Probably bar owner's don't give a shit about how old you are, as long as you pay. Which wasn't the case as he shunshied away. So Kakashi made the man smoke and smoke he did. Even people that didn't smoke took long, blissful drags, the nicotine always calm them down and that was what was needed. To calm down. Calm down and feel some sense of faux protection. Calm down and pretend he felt at home. Calm down and stop his shaking hands as he was sure the story of the farmer didn't end well. 

“He left a bottle of water.” Was spurred out as the way the smoking question did. “A few hours later, I guess, I was a bit relieved from the pain, so I guess he put something on my glass. If it was poison, I didn't care at all, but it was just painkillers. Even though 'just painkillers' developed into something much bigger. Something I never would’ve seen. I never thought someday I'd — well, no one ever thinks this kind of shit for their life, specially shinobi, when we depend so much on chakra healers. But... it was painkillers for me.” 

Kakashi's eye darted to the window he knew Sakura was behind. The blind man obviously didn't see it, but he sensed his abrupt movement. He was still in pretty good shape to someone without eyes. 

“Know someone that went through the same drug problem?” His question was met with silence, as the interrogator was interrogated with a simple question, he stiffened. Kakashi forced his heart to beat into an ordinary rhythm. There was no way he knew, he could’ve known. 

The man kept talking as if he didn’t notice he said something that turned the tables.

“His wife came home less than half an hour later than her husband. I heard their whispers in what I assumed was the kitchen, but couldn't make out what they were saying, but only in that moment I realised their accent was odd. Apparently, I was carried long away from the village and was at a civilian one. In a moment she popped at my side and placed her hand on my forehead. Burning, was what she said and after that I passed out from the pain as she set the first bone back to its place. I must have been really drugged as I just woke up several hours later. Then the healing process began. It took three months before I could even walk again. Not having chakra healing is shit. Even as I sensed little waves of my own chakra, it didn't really help that much. Only after two more months I could begin training again. As I was alive, I might as well be useful. I didn't know if I should head back, but it was my original plan, but then, god knows how long after, I heard about the massacre. And I threw up. And again and again. The thought that Itachi slaughtered the whole clan made the hair on the back of my neck stiff. It wasn't like him, he was the most pacifist person I've ever known. You know that too." It wasn't an accusation, but it sure felt like one. 'I can't believe you believed he was a cold blooded murderer when you should've known better' was what was left unsaid. "Anyway, unlike you, I knew about the coup, so it all clicked in place. And I felt like an utter piece of shit. I was a coward. I could've stayed and fought, but I decided it was better to run away. To chicken out and let someone bare alone such a responsibility." 

"You shouldn't be ashamed of that." 

"Of being a coward?" The bitter note wasn’t missed by a beat.

"Sacrificing." When the man sneered, Kakashi blew a full mouth of smoke into his face which made him cough. Kakashi smiled deviously. "Don't be a martyr and don't be dramatic. It doesn't suit you." 

They smoked in silence for some time, the only sound was their own breaths and heartbeats. All around was quiet. He flared his chakra to let them know it was alright and they didn't need to worry. Not that they were worried, the two women. They were probably just pure ire. 

"I know about it." 

The man said in a soft voice, his not-eyes turned to the floor, something akin affection in his voice. Kakashi's head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening and he's never been so happy for one's blindness.

“About...?” Kakashi’s voice was barely a whisper, it could be taken as a mountain claiming the morning sun. You can’t hear unless you are paying attention. He uttered so low, hoping the topic would die. 

Did he know about Sakura? His comment about "just painkillers" felt too close to comfort. If he did, all he said until now was utter and pure bullshit. He was nothing but a traitor. There was no salvation here. There was nothing for him here.

"I know about the two of you. I've always had." Kakashi decided in that moment that he preferred when he was being judged than being pitied. 

Because that’s what it was: pity. And it wasn’t about Sakura. 

It was worse. It was about a ghost. A ghost that laid untouched for so, so long.

So he said "Hum." 

"I couldn't not know.” The man went on, the small smile forming in his lips. The tiniest of it, the blood still on his tongue. “I was his best friend, after all." He lifted his head and looked at Kakashi.

"Sasuke is dead." 

The change of subject could be interpreted as him running from the primer matter, but it wasn't. He just felt he needed to voice it. 

"So I've heard. But I got to say I thought it was just a rumor. And... did he really kill Itachi?"

Kakashi nodded before even realise he was talking to a blind man. Again. He really wasn't used to blind people at all. He was used at people's stare, mostly the stare of those who died by his hand. 

"I see." No, you don't, his mind filled in and he almost felt bad for the poor joke. Almost. "Ta—"

"Don't." He was cut harshly. "Don't call me that." 

"Why not? You were my captain, after all." 

Silence. 

"You think you don't deserve it? The respect?" 

Silence. 

"Why?" 

He asked again and again silence it was. 

"Is it because of him?" 

Silence. 

"She doesn't know about it, does she?" Shit, what? How did the kid even know about her. He was staring intently at his direction with such a scrutinizing way he wondered, not for the first time, if the man was really blind. "I am really blind" Fucking mind reader as well? "And I don't read minds. I'm just used to it. Without sight, I had to learn to handle myself.” 

"Why didn't you want to speak?" 

"Would you, Kakashi? Be honest with me? If you vanished and was declared dead for over a decade would you be happy to open up to people that easily?" 

He deflected. 

"We're not just people, we're comrades." The words sounded empty even to him. Kakashi cringed, but tried not to show — yeah, yeah, he was fucking blind, but he seemed to see every fucking thing anyway.

"No. You aren't. You are strangers. You can take me as a traitor any second and send me to death." 

There was a clock ticking in the wall and for the first time Kakashi noticed that. Probably the clock alone was torture. He stood there in silence just staring at the man, wondering what he should do. He was not a traitor, but he had over a decade to come back and didn't. 

"Why?" 

It was all he said. He didn't elaborate. Didn't press or ask further. Just why. Just understand and answer why. 

"Because." 

Fucking great. 

He sighed. Kakashi took from his pocket a small bottle he always carries with him. 

"Do you drink?" 

The man tilted his head as if giving it a thought for the first time ever. "I guess." He shrugged. 

Kakashi took a big gulp and passed it to him that hissed. 

"Strong shit." Kakashi fulfilled before he spoke. The man smiled. 

"Everyone says that?" 

"I said that the first time I drank it." 

"It's not sake. Is it vodka?" 

A silver eyebrow raised so high it disappeared over his hairline. 

"How do you —" 

"I traveled East. I didn't settle down as a farmer raising goats. I've been everywhere. That's why I didn't return." 

"Why did you take all this time to say it to me? Tsunade could've killed you. She wanted to. She was willing to, even." 

Again, he shrugged. 

"How do I know if I can trust you?" 

"Kid, I'm the Hokage." 

The man laughed and he sounded the same as he did when he was sixteen. 

"You do sound the same as you did all those years ago, taichou." 

"Don't call me that." Kakashi said in a heartbeat, always that harsh voice at his given titles. 

"Lord Hokage is better?" 

He just rolled his eyes and offered the bottle again. 

"So." 

"So." 

Kakashi rolled the chair in front of him and sat on it, his usual slouch even if all of his senses were completely tuned. 

"Ready to talk, Shisui?"

Chapter Text

I was born with glass bones and paper skin. every morning I break my legs, and every afternoon I break my arms. at night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep.

---

October 3030, the begging of the 4th Great Ninja War

NARUTO DIDN'T KNOW THE order things happened anymore. He didn’t know ever since his father appeared, his cloak ruffling in the air, the kanji showing who he was, his blond hair and his presence so reconforting he wished he could just hug him. But he couldn’t. He was a leader now, just like his father once was. And, now, he would die for the sake of his people, just like his father did.

He wondered what crossed his father’s mind the day he died. If he considered fleeing, all those years ago, Kurama destroying it all — if he considered just for one second. Looked at his wife (his mother) and no matter how much Kushina, his mother, his mother, might protest, clamor, struggle, yell — just look into her eyes, their huge purple eyes, he got the chance to see it, just once and says “Run.” and that’s that. Run. Naruto wishes he had said that. He could see that Kakashi-sensei thought about it a lot when he went to visit their graves. Everytime it was like he was closing his eyes and coming back in time, grabbing them by the collar, shaking some good sense onto them and saying “Run!”. But Kakashi wasn't there and his parents were dead.

(Naruto wondered what Kakashi would say to his father if he could. He never could even fathom. What would you — what can you say? How do you ask your father not to kill himself? Naruto used to cry when he thought of that. 

Kakashi’s chakra was steady as always, not shaking in fear. He was there, leading them all, his life lying at his feet, but his chest taking the fire to protect those behind him. Naruto would never live up to coming eye to eye to this man. 

Maybe that's what he could say to Kakashi’s father, if he ever got the chance.)

The air was biting and the huge whitish stone monster was there, showing them how pathetically small they were. He was scared of the fucking huge Bijudama, Menacing Ball, Tailed Beast Bomb — you choose. So many names and just one purpose: dilacered. They built all the walls they could think of, all the strategy. But they would die. The giant purple thing he used to see with Kurama, he used to train with, he used to fear, but that, that was much more menacing and the killing intent was in the hair in his body, every single capillary, dominating all his cells and all his mind could think of was “How am I going to save them? I made a promise. I never go back on my word.” But never going back on his word could be forgiven if he died, right? But if they all died there, two questions arose:

Who would be left to take them home?

Who would Madara feed dreams to then?

Then, he felt his father and his heart felt relief. He could feel the prayers around him, his comrades swallowing and everything wondering how would they survive, if they would and how would they fight afterwards. A line opened in the horizont and the ball vanished and he was never so happy to see what a thunderstorm mixed with all the natural catastrophes encapsulated in purple coming in one at their direction. If you put the world into a blender and shove it thunderstorms, hurricanes making peace and love with volcanos, tsunamis, cyclones, floods, landslides, hurricanes, typhoons, forest fire, meteor falls, storms of ice, hail and lightning then you would have a Bijudama. And that his father made it vanish.

But the Fourth Hokage arrived — and he never wished so badly his father (his father, not the Fourth Hokage) never died. He wished to see his mother’s hair, red, vibrant, screaming just as loud as the Blast. He knew his mother would scare it all away. He never wished with all his might his parents were alive. They would brush his hair, they would hug him and thank the Heavens he was alive. His mother would scold him for not being too careful and being on the front lines, would like to meet his friends and would all but Chakra Chain everyone. His father would look at her lovely and put a hand on her waist. She would choke at the sight of Obito and probably she would be the one that would succeed in beating him down. 

The Red-Hot Habanero would come in all covered in her red hair and hold his hand. The Yellow Flash of the Leaf would put his hand on his shoulder. In the middle of the scrubs they would find each other's eyes and their personality would leak, there, in the battlefield, smiling, smirking, grinning to one another and he would know he belonged, he existed. He wasn’t just the monster, the Number One Hyperactive, Knucklehead Ninja, Naruto, idiot, dobe, good for nothing. He belonged.  

But that was for him to dream of if he survived. Maybe he could steal a smile from his father in the middle of the madness. (Maybe he could surrender to the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Save them all and let it wrap himself. Would that really be selfish when you think about it? Try to have a decent life?)

He barely began and he was already tired of fighting. Already tired of having the burden of the whole Shinobi World — the same World that despised him through his entire life.

Don’t mistake Naruto for ungrateful. He was finally being recognized. That was his dream. But he wasn’t stupid, as everyone took him for. He was naïve, at the very best. He could feel he was being used and he was afraid like hell to be disposable. And, the worst part was, his father would be gone as soon as the War was over.

The only time Naruto Uzumaki saw his parents was when the World was about to end and he was about to die. He didn’t have the time to memorize their features.

Things happened in a blur. Naruto didn’t know the order of the things that happened no more. His father lost both arms, but he gave it back. He wondered if with his new power he could see his mother again. 

(He knew he couldn’t)

There was fire everywhere. It was all Fire. Be the Will of it or the fucking Uchiha. Everyone was dropping dead and who was to blame? The mad man? That Kaguya fairy tale the Sage told him? Mankind?

The insane pursuit for power?

Do you kill War?

Or it simply kills you and keeps on killing until there is nothing left but sand?

Gaara would live through sand.

Would he? Or was that just another escape route so Naruto would feel better for pretending that not every single person would die in his hands like Neji did? And Neji was literally the one that died in his arms. How many others were dying and were about to die?

They kept on fighting. All of them. They were still fighting Obito, Madara and the Ten Tails – that fucking thing doesn’t die, for Heaven’s sake. It is like the most powerful thing ever, but it really should die. Right? Nothing is immortal. Truly immortal. Nothing. Not truly immortal. The Universe needs balance and that’s why the Sage of the Six Paths created the Tailed Beasts, to balance the power. That’s why they were scattered around the shinobi world – to maintain the balance.

Nothing is immortal, nothing lasts forever. 

And with Madara it has to be the same. 

“Is this the power of a God?” Gaara said. Yes, but Georg Hengel also spoke about the great pain of knowing that God is dead. “Nature is such that it marks everywhere, both in and outside of man, a lost God, purely as a phase, but also as no more than just a phase, of the highest idea.” Max Stirner wrote about the death of God and about the killing of God by humans.

I've read it once. 

So, yes, Gaara. It is the power of a God. 

And he is going down — eventually

Yet, there it was: Madara yelling and yelling about dancing, and the Infinity Deceit, the Red Moon made of an enormous Sharingan, dancing, fucking dancing (like to watch me dance, go to my ballet performance) and God, please, couldn’t it just stop? What does it bring to Madara? Why does he want that? To have the peaceful shinobi world he wanted from the beginning? This wasn’t peace! Nobody told him that?

“Oi! You!” Madara didn’t hear. Jesus. “Creep, annoying, don’t know when to shut it, you!” He was yelling some annoying shit the other direction. 

Naruto had to scream from the top of his lungs. The battlefield was so loud he couldn’t barely make his own words.

“You, old coconut!”  He heard this time. “Didn’t anyone tell you that casting a genjutsu over the entire world isn’t the same thing as "peace?" It is just decisiveness. You’re being stupid!”

It isn’t Naruto’s regular approach. He convinced bad guys talking about ramen and stuff, sad pass and swings, but he was told Madara wasn’t that kind of guy, but trying wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“You’re just fucking dumb, kid.” His polite and thoughtful answer was followed by the biggest fire dragon Naruto ever saw. He decided approaching Madara wasn’t a good idea.

“I told you, you can’t beat him with talk no jutsu.” Kakashi said, smirking, his chest was open, but wasn't profusely bleeding anymore. 

“Fuck off, would ya?”

His sensei just smiled more, his eye creasing further and Naruto wondered if the man had fallen into madness or if facing death so close was enough to loosen him and rip a true smile from what seemed like a painful motion. 

He looked around and Sakura was scolding Kakashi at the same time she was healing what seemed to be an open fracture in his leg and he was still smiling. Maybe he was high. But seeing everything from where he was brought the world from a new perspective.

Naruto was standing in a pile of rocks that gave him better access to the battlefield, he could see almost everyone. He didn’t have the time to dwell or admire how beautiful the scattered innocence, untidy faces, traces of tears, spatter of blood can make the bat of eyelids sound magnificent and how alive you can feel with the gush of wind; live is only precious because it ends — you realise one day. It often does when you’re about to lose it. 

He truly didn’t know how they managed to stay alive for that long, because the man was a God and he was immortal. Naruto had his amount of immortals as well, but Madara was a level up. And Obito was fucking crazy, fucking delusional and everytime it seemed they finally got him they didn’t. He tried as hard as he could not to see who else was dying. If he saw, if he acknowledged he would break and he couldn’t break there, not now, not ever — not in front of them, not when the entire shinobi world was counting on him.

Now he understood Kakashi, but sideways. He always said he was too old for that shit, but Naruto felt too young.

“Hey!” his closest clone yelled. “Kakashi-sensei!” his teacher spared him a glance and he was so covered in blood and he looked like a veteran, like an expert, like power and fury — like a legend. Like a broken mas that needs to kill his best friend. He looked like his father, the ghost of the White Fang pouring over them, even if Naruto never saw the man, he knew that, he just knew. So he decided to tell him nothing. “Thank you.” Was his only statement and also covered in blood he smiled at his mentor whose eyes crinkled with a real smile and no words were needed any more. 

Naruto didn’t say anything because when Kakashi was his age he had already lost everything he had and he had so many ANBU missions over his belt then Naruto had been punched by Sakura and said “believe it!”.

And, then, Neji died.

In the middle of his disconsolateness, something happened and Kurama’s chakra died. He wasn’t glowing orange anymore. No one was. (He wanted to be worried, worried sick, but he couldn't)

In a moment, it was Neji’s body over his, telling him he sacrificed himself from being called a genius. He saved him, saved Hinata — who had had sacrificed herself (“I love you” he remembered her saying on the day Pain almost killed her — but he hugged Sakura instead). The next moment he convinced Obito, all white, gray and green, after Black Zetsu tried to eat him, to come to their side, that Rin wouldn’t ever love that version of him. It wasn’t Obito, that was Tobi and Tobi was no one – neither Obito nor Madara. Tobi was Tobi. (Tobi wasn’t real, Obito) The next moment the Sage of the Six Paths shared Indra and Ashura story — how Madara and Hashirama were born to fight, how he and Sasuke were born, were made, were meant to fight. From the moment of their birth to the moment of their death, their faith was to fight and put an end to it, either for the Good or for the Bad. He started glowing, the six black balls around him, fluing, Sasuke had the Rinnegan, Kakashi-sensei almost lost an eye (again) and when Sakura put her hands to try to help him, fix him, something, he came and gave him a new eye. Just like that. Because now he could, he can.

He was now some sort of God.

The fight was no longer for the mortals.

Yet, it didn’t stop Madara.

All his generation knew about war was what they read in books, learnt in the Academy or heard by the fire eating canned food. And reading about something and living are two completely different dimensions.

Everywhere he looked there were screams, there was blood. Water, fire, wind, lightning, earth. It was all collapsing and all in fusion. It was all part of one another, it was impossible to distinguish.

It was Madara against the World, but that was enough. It was scary how much one man alone could hold so much power.

The former wars were between shinobi. It was man against man. Eye for eye. It was fair, almost. There were some freakishly strong people against standard man, but it was fair. This, this thing, right now, was anything but fair.

The fight went on and on and on. It lasted for days. Days and days and days. 

At one point, the flower blossomed. Some were caught the second it opened. Yamato was one of those. He just got released from White Zetsu and he barely blinked. C followed him, along with Suigetsu — for what they could tell. They kept fighting to find ways to stay in the shadows, small caves, bury themselves in ground, mud walls, everything. 

By the day, they fought back, with all they had. Everyday more fellows fell. The caves were being blasted, exploded, the rocks they had at their back were shattered so they were losing the shadows it would cast during the night, the holes they entered and closed with wood and vices were  bombed. 

So, those who managed to survive the day, died at night. Madara was especially cruel to destroy their shells and havens preferentially at night, when they were hiding. 

Sasuke would appear here and there. He wasn't the savior when things got really ugly and it seemed there was no escape — when those moments came, they themselves managed. Sasuke was there like a visitor, like he was there just because he had nothing better to do — like his fucking rinnegan had nothing better to do, like it wouldn’t basically save them. He would show up out of the blue, help, because he was as much as a God as Naruto and puff, vanish in the air. Trying to hold onto him was like trying to catch smoke with your hands. 

After a particularly nasty night where Sakura lost her wits on her anger because of him, as soon as the moon began to sat, she left the cave they were in and sent a rock bigger than a tree in the direction of Madara that was caught in surprise — and, for the first time, in a long, long time, he spat blood and lost his breath. Sakura didn’t waste time celebrating. She sent what was supposed to be a tree and it didn’t hit him fully, but he still got hit. He planted his feet in a rock, crouching, trying to access where it was all coming from, once they barely took the offensive anymore and she punched the ground in uttermost strength, the ground exploded, just like it did at the bells test, a nature force

(She would never know, but Kakashi was smiling)

and sent a good 5 km range open. It all trembled as if an earthquake hit them straight in the gut. Madara had his eyes wild, staring at the disheveled pink girl, her eyes, even at a distance, glowed and, for a moment, he calculated that a punch from her would be worse than from The Beast. It crashed all the soil all the way to where he was seated and further. The place looked like a desert, all the vegetation gone and now it looked like the backwoods. 

Madara fought back, but something was odd, and was beginning to feel odd. Or they were all too used to his fighting style or they were going freakishly strong out of nowhere or Madara was having a bad day or Sakura hit him too hard, but he wasn’t that over powerful. 

See, the man was a monster. He was a fucking God and just being is his presence ma de the air cold, and people were dropping day after day after day. The tree was huge. Bigger than anything they ever saw. And everyone was there. 

It was just them. 

They had the former Hokages by their side, (but all the living Kages fell, leaving only Tsunade), Naruto and Sasuke overpowered, Kakashi-sensei, overpowered Obito, Sakura and her Strength of a Hundred Seal, but they were facing the wrath of a God. An immortal God.

Everyone else has fallen already.

It was just them against Madara. It might seem easy. Ten against one, but the bastard refused to die. If was fucking annoying. Every time they managed to hit him, he rose to his feet.

"Something is wrong with this fucker." Tsunade said in between her breaths. Her pigtails wew a long lost fantasy and she still had her stomach uncovered.

The Hokage looked older. Not just as old as she was, not like the henge fell, but older as in tired, as in almost scared. Tsunade was never scared (She was, Naruto, she was). She was tough. She was scary, not scared. Naruto wondered what actually happened to them when he had to leave the five of them to fight Madara.

                                                                (Later on he found out she was strong enough to make a Susanoo'o crack, but he put five of those on each of them. He found out too that she used all her med-nin power to heal them all while she was pretty much cut in half. Looking like that, the woman seemed immortal. She wasn't.)

"I know." Was all Tobirama said, his Hitai-ate nowhere to be seen, his shoulders absent of anything but a flak jacket that was ready to fall. His deep voice was deeper and his eyes were harder and angrier than Naruto thought it was possible. He was reincarnated, so he looked scary enough anyway. But, black orbs apart, it seemed that his gaze alone would be enough to tear all pieces of Madara apart.

"What do you mean?" Sakura yelled from where she was. Her face was so dirty her eyes seemed to jump off — she wasn't scared, though. Naruto didn’t know if that was good or not. Kakashi used to have that expression.

Madara chose a new fight instance. He was divided between two limbo and four kinds of Susanoo'o that weren't all that tall and imponent. The crazy bastard was yelling crazy shit they all were tired of listening to — that shit he kept saying about dance and shit. Dance in hell, you fucker. But he only divided into two limbo clones and the small versions of the blue annoying things.

Which was odd enough in itself. His Susanoo’o, the shit he was so proud about, was smaller. It was almost half of its normal size and it wasn’t so fast – but it was fast enough, though.

It was odd indeed.

For a man that released twenty five Susanoo'o and was playing with six limbo clones using just this was weird as fuck.

Even his voice seemed odd. Naruto shrugged it off, at first, thinking that maybe it was because he spent an entire month yelling, but his lungs didn’t seem to be giving him all the oxygen he needed. 

"He is weak." Minato said, his cape didn’t have either sleeves and was ripped in diverse places. "Before, he was fighting like a madman, using everything, throwing things with his infinite chakra. Now, it almost seems like he is holding up."

"Why would he do tha—"

Naruto's phrase was cut when the Susanoo (smaller, but annoying) almost crushed him with his still big ass sword.

They divided themselves in teams that kept in rotation so the man couldn't read and interpret their pattern of fight. It was risky, but it was their best shot. You need to get familiar with each others fight style, that’s what teams are for, but they were good, they were fucking tremendous – and even though Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke (when he gave 'em the grave of his presence) weren’t elite shinobi (yet) they were doing a fucking great job, thank you very much.

The real Madara was using a distance fighting style, using fire style jutsu more than approaching. He had a huge arsenal, but they had a copy nin — every time the man decided to throw a new jutsu at them, Kakashi assessed his mental arsenal and counterattacked. He didn't have the same strength, but it was fun enough to see Madara burn with rage to see someone a thousand years younger using his own jutsus back at him.

Their fighting style was settled as a defensive one, jumping from here to there and attacking once in a while, more in the goal to distract than cause damage.

The limbo clones were the real issue. But Minato managed to mark them with seals and share it with every single one of them, so every strike of the clones in their direction was a millisecond dodgeable — they almost lost their arms, heads, stomach, lives, but they were doing fine.

Naruto just couldn’t wrap his mind on why that was happening. On how it was all happening. For a whole month all he did was survive. He barely fought back. Kakashi-sensei was in a limbo between using some of his Mangekyou power’s without the eye itself (the man adapts), but he didn’t have the Sharingan anymore. Sakura was monstrous and he didn’t have to say anything about the Hokages. And Sasuke. 

Fucking Sasuke Uchiha. 

All his brother was, he could tell Sasuke would never be. He barely knew Itachi Uchiha, but he could tell the man would never flee even less when he had power enough to help them to win. Yet, his foolish little brother wasn’t consumed only by vengeance. He was fucking selfless. People were dying, because no, they weren’t just getting caught in the genjutsu. Every now and then, Madara would kill someone just for the sake of it. 

The battles in daylight were always the worst. They didn’t have to hide and to fight with eyes closed, but Madara could see them and seeing them he could do as he pleased. They were running out of  everything. The summons were having a hard time bringing supplies. It wasn’t like they had soldiers to send home and bring them supplies. No. They had to deal with what they had. And that meant losing several pounds. 

They moved the battlefield the best they could. They began retrieting, trying not to show. It was a silent agreement, but they decided to retreat to the Leaf. Of fucking course Madara noticed, but he didn’t care. You could run and run and no matter how far, the moon would catch you. Yet, he wouldn’t let anyone rest.  

He kept attacking, they kept defending, they kept trying to survive. All and any kind of summon was to be sent to the Leaf, do its best to seal food and medical supplies and drop them. The amount of soldier pills they had to consume would probably leave permanent damage to their gastrointestinal system, but who gives a ratsass. The amount of pills they had to consume would probably leave permanent damage — just as so many other things they had to use. 

Naruto's anger grew everyday, just as hunger grew in everyone’s bellies and just as much the tree seemed to grow with any new person it held captive. 

Every new comrade taken was another drop of hatred in the Uzumaki cup of hatred — and it was about to spill.

Everyone was using their abilities, but they wouldn't last that long.

As if reading everyone's mind, Kakashi said. "We can handle this just for a while longer.” He was panting. Him, Obito and Sasuke were the ones that fell on the celebration of Madara’s hit the bull's-eye. “There is indeed something wrong with him. He is fighting from distance and his clones aren't powerful enough —" His trail of thought was brutally interrupted when the Susanoo'o foot hit Tsunade straight in her gut and sent her flying for 70 meters at least, hitting a big rock that almost fell all over her.

Kakashi's soul made a double twist and bile rose to his mouth, but he thought fast (a genius) and sent a big ass shuriken embedded with a purple fire and lightning in the direction of the rock making it explode. His mind was spiraling in the fact that if Tsunade was crushed that there would be no Madara with Hashirama cells to save her. He wished, once again, it was him.

Despite blowing the rock small pieces hit her and an annoyingly still big one hit her in her head and she fell to the ground like a heavy potato sack, completely still. Her black adornment vanished from her skin and that, that meant one thing.

(Why, oh fuck, oh why things only mean one thing, one fucking bad thing when it happens? Why couldn’t it just mean something like hitting rocks offending the ink so it leaves? Why does the absence of chakra mean that the people are dead? Why do things ever mean one thing? Why is it ever the worst thing? Why is always

death)

The Strength of a Hundred Seal only vanishes when the owner decides to or when it is forced out of them. Naruto's stomach tightened.

Sakura's scream filled the air and it was what they could hear for what seemed miles and miles away and the time seemed to freeze. 

Until she ignored the limbo clone to run in the direction of her shishou, she received a hit straight in her face that probably broke her chin and she fell to the floor as well, like a heavy potato sack, but she was still conscious. She spit blood and her face glowed green within seconds and she was again on her feet. When she reached again to run, Kakashi held her by her waist and threw both of them to the ground, building an earth wall moving his hands so fast it wasn't possible to follow with the eyes just in time to hide them from a fireball the size of the rock Tsunade hit.

In one heartbeat Naruto tucked Tsunade over his shoulder and formed, again, what seemed to be a thousand shadow clones. The real Naruto took Tsunade out of the frontline. His Kurama chakra returned to him and all his clones formed different shaped and colored Rasengan and sent them in the direction of all the threats — the real Madara included.

The moment his strongest clone touched the real man, the moon glowed a pale red and he was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Nice dreams, kid. I am sorry about your Hokage. Quite waspish, she was. Pretty, but death comes to you all.”

With that, Madara kicked the bucket and Naruto was torn into rage and grief — he couldn’t tell which was screaming louder and it was deafening. 

It was the end, he thought. It was the end because Tsunade died and he didn’t know how they would escape the genjutsu again. It was night, they couldn’t hide like they did for the past month. All their hiding spots, all their plans were gone already. That was it.

The end.

Naruto braced himself, not knowing what to do, grief and anger eating him — but, for once, Sasuke wasn’t so selfish and his Susasoo’o appeared out of nowhere and took them all under its wing, shielding them. Sasuke wasn’t nowhere to be seen during the whole fight, over all these last days, but now he showed up. And Naruto wanted to punch him just as much as he wanted to thank him — but mostly punch him.

“You fucker!” Tobirama was pointing a finger at him, a blue energy rising from his fingers and Sasuke faltered. It was Tobirama and it wasn’t surprising that he was scolding an Uchiha, but the boy was two hundred years younger and Naruto couldn’t care in the slightest.

“Tobirama…” Hashirama put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, that was glowing blue, his chakra so strong that it filled the space of the Susanoo’o wing. The elder brother seemed to be walking in the direction of the Uchiha, but was forced to halt, in shock.  “Don’t yell at a kid.”

“A kid? A kid, Hashirama? By his age everyone here had seen wars and fought them already. He is just an —”

“Inconsequent brat.” Kakashi voiced. 

They all were killers, assassins. There was no reason to deny it. Maybe, for the first time since Sasuke decided to go rebel angst avenger he felt the weight of his true actions. He didn’t have any escape route here. There was no Madara, no Zetsu, Orochimaru, distractions. He was caged. He was caged and Kakashi barked at him, a hungry wolf, drooling on his chin and no one wanted to stop him.

Naruto’s head was spinning and no matter how much he seemed to enjoy people finally telling Sasuke that he was a spoiled little petty sucker, he broke.

He broke in a way no one ever predicted.

“Why the fuck Madara is even so fucking obsessed with this Infinite Tsukuyomi?”

Even after controlling Kurama’s chakra, now Naruto wasn’t burning that ugly orange that made him look like a toy that shines neon light in the dark. The neon light made him look more like a candle, a spinning toy, an amusement park. No. Naruto was Pain, right now. Skeleton bones and red noise. He was pure what he was when he didn’t have control — he seemed like a beast, an animal, a treat.

It was pure red rage in the air, so strong it hit them as if they stuck their heads in an oven and let it burn them. The ground shook with the impact and the first thing that came to mind was to treat him in a way to take him out of this anger and put him anywhere else. (It didn’t fucking work, I spoiler it to you.)

“Hey, boy, watch your language around your father.” Tobirama said, that dark tone of his, his arms forever crossed in front of him, but he was now only in a black shirt with shreds of his armour still clung to him, all his uniform was half disintegrated.

“Yes, Naruto, please,” Minato began, his voice soft, but strong. “This isn’t how – this isn’t – isn’t how –” his voice dropped and in the screams it was barely audible.

“How you raised him?” A snarled mocked laugh left Sasuke’s lips, the closest thing to a smile playing in the corners. “That you wanted to say, Namikaze, uh?” contemptuous, insolent. “You didn’t fucking raised him at all. You died before you could clean the drool from his chin.”

“Fuck you.” Kakashi’s voice was low, so low it sounded pure bass, fuck the baritone, he could touch the ground (only 5% has bass voice) and could raise dust and gold and sand and swallow Sasuke. He turned to him and in that moment the killer all of them never actually truly saw — they were beside him in the battlefield, not standing there and appreciating, the murderer in his eyes, the metalic taste of blood danced on the tongue of them all — shined in his direction and it appeared as everyone hold their breath and took a minimal step back. This wasn’t a sensei and his student. This was the legend and the traitor.

(He wouldn’t ever know, but there were two pairs of eyes sitting on Sasuke with the same intensity, but Kakashi had his burden in that moment. He couldn’t spare glances, his eyes were daggers filling the floor with Sasuke blood. He wasn’t alone though. Blue and green were with him. Sasuke lost them longer than he thought.)

“And yeah, Kakashi, you would know that. Wasn’t like your father was there to raise you either.” Sasuke said again, but the mockery wasn’t so loud. Kakashi might not have his sharingan, but his eyes turned red.

“Hey, you don’t have to throw him into this. It wasn't him that made it happen to you.” Was it Obito? Obito defended Kakashi – to save Sasuke’s skin (no) or to spare Kakashi’s pain? 

(“Throw it at me, it seemed that Obito was saying. Throw it all at me. I helped to slaughter your clan, kid. I might’ve not killed your parents, but I did helped to give the street a nice red wash.”)

Either way, it just made Naruto turn to him, anger boiling.

“Obito, oh, yeah, I should throw this at you. You were the one that killed my father. You were the reason he died.”

“Naruto, you should control your anger. Throwing it at everyone –” Kakashi tried. Kakashi, the pacifist — at heart, because in action he kills more than breathes. Why does Kakashi still try? Why doesn’t he rip Sasuke’s throat?

“I am not throwing it at everyone, I am throwing it at you! You” Did he point to Sasuke or to Kakashi? Why is he mad at Kakashi? “and this fucking psycho.” He pointed to Obito, almost closing the space between them and shoving a finger in his chest that would break his rib cage. “Why the fuck is he still here?”

“Why the fuck are you still upset with this?” Sasuke, bitter. Sasuke never understands.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Naruto bit back at Sasuke, red, orange and blue, the air cutting deep like a kunai.

“Naruto, calm down. This is not the time to be freaking about whomever is — this is exactly what he wants, what Madara —” This time, it was Hashirama, the pacifist. No wood, just a fireplace in the summer. Useless.

“This is not what he wants!” Red is scary, Naruto. “What he wants is to control the fucking world! And we don’t even know why he is so obsessed with this. I can even understand Obito, ya’ know.” he turned to the man, mocking him. No one knew Naruto could be cruel, but he could and a lot. He just never, ever showed. He knew how much it hurted, but he wanted to hurt now. Really, really badly. “He couldn’t even stand that the girl he loved didn’t love him back. She loved someone better than him and Obito was a parasite.” his gaze fixed on Obito again, just slits of pure wrath, his eyes red. “You needed Madara to tell you what to do ‘cause you couldn’t even think, uh?”

“That’s the brightest conclusion that brain of yours have managed, Naruto?” Obito was falling apart, white, green, black, no heart, no future. Just a thin Rin-line and Kakashi’s pardon. Minato would hug him too and that made Naruto's skeleton shake even harder and his red vibrating form just boiled them.  

“Is that what you think, kiddo? That’s what I wanted? You think that I was so self-centered, so stupid? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Yes! That’s what I want — that I am telling you! I want to fucking spit in your face, fucking Uchiha. You killed my mother, you killed my father, you fucking destroyed all for me, for Kakashi, you made a monster out of me, people hated me, I had to live with this.” tears, so hot, streaming down, but evaporating in the anger rolling out of his skin. “Now I have to kill people, I have to kill because of you, I have to kill a bastard that came out alive, came back from the dead just to fucking absorb mortal people and get — get a fucking entire tree? Just to put everyone to dream so he can — what the fuck does he even want with this?”

“I don’t —” Obito, confused, defeated.

“Oh, no. No, no, excuse me, I’m sorry. No, no, no! You don’t know it, you don’t know anything about this. He never told you! He kept like — like training you, for what, Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto waved his arms to catch Kakashi attention “how long it was that Obito died?” he didn’t wait for an answer “Oh, yeah, something like eighteen years, with this twisted fantasy, fucking around and messing with people’s heads and he didn’t ever tell you why he wanna come up with —”

“Naruto, calm down!” Kakashi ordered, didn’t plead.

“I won’t cal— ”

“Stop!” Sakura, all pink, all red, all black, fused in blood and tiredness, her sensei at her feet, a thousand strengths worth in her skin.

“You weren’t there!!” Naruto yelled at Kakashi, accusing him, finally, not knowing who was who, whom to blame, who abandoned him and his parents, his life.

“It was not his fault.” Minato tried again, his own anger there. Kakashi never saw him angry before.

“Oh, oh-ho!” Naruto half shouted, half laughed it off with no humour at all. He was fucking losing it.

“Shut up!” Sasuke, all black and purple, in the deity of his red and black spirals, interrupted the discussion not about him because he couldn’t stand being in the shadows.

“You shut the fuck up!” Sakura, all pink and anger.

“Show some respect.” Sa-su-ke, slippery, thinking he still owned her, tried. Show me some respect, Sakura.

Kakashi threw a kunai with explosive tags at him, one he barely dodged, oh so arrogant he was. His eyes, purple and red, widened, like he was betrayed even if he was the traitor to them all. His black hair framed his face like a framework of a medieval painting lost in time: beautiful, trying too hard to be terrifying, but the time ate it out. His sword was in his hand and Kakashi’s tanto shined white in the air — White Fang, Chio yelled while he tried to explain himself, his chest probably aching as much as Naruto’s did all the times he thought about his father. He didn’t know Kakashi used his tanto again. Obito moved too, wounded, nevertheless his spinning wheel's eye was alive and angry. If a fight took place there it wouldn’t be friendly.

“Stop this!" A thunderstorm yelled.

Tobirama Senju was a quiet man, but right there, only two words, only a finger raised and Sasuke remembered his grandeur back when he brought the four back.

His figure was surrounded by blue and power. The Third Hokage shrunk — the man was his sensei once. Not even Hashirama moved this time. Now they weren’t the Hokages disputing. No. It was the older and wiser of them. Tobirama was the older brother, the sensei, the Second Hokage. He was someone worth bowing to.

Through his blind hatred for the Uchiha many took him for just obsessed and forgot his raw power — but in that moment only two words was all it took for all to shut. Still, he looked at Naruto less than a minute later giving him his blessing — clean your soul, kid it said. Naruto deserved it, after all.

“Drop this, Naruto. Please.” Sakura turned her eyes, that no longer looked all that green and naïve — she didn’t look like the girl he once loved. Green tea looked too much like honey bums now. She looked too much like Tsunade like that, bearing too much in her shoulders, him himself included, trying to save him, stop him.

“Stop it, Sakura.” Naruto couldn’t bear being saved by them.

“Naruto —” neither being pitied by Kakashi.

“Shut the fuck —” he turned to his sensei, hot tears in eyes again and they were as red as the sharingan that drowned them to this mess.

“Naruto! Enough! Show him some fucking respect! He was your sensei and —”

“And? Why should I show some respect, dad? He wasn’t there.” his voice was hoarse, but the fight wouldn’t die soon.

(there 

\ ˈt͟her  \ is an adverb. learn to pronounce:  in the UK is /ðeər/ in the US is /ðer/ and who the fuck cares. 

"there" to Naruto meant the day his parents died. Where, maybe, someone could've done something. Not just them; not just his mom and dad. There is no way to know if that would've changed something. It would forever be a butterfly flapping its wings. But Naruto couldn't stand the idea that no one was there, because, if someone was indeed there, the only thing they did was watch his parents die. And that was unforgivable.)  

“He was there.” This time it was Hiruzen who spoke, his voice so raucous as if he forgot how to speak even before his death.

“Who the fuck are you to tell this, God of Shinobi? You weren’t there.”

“He was there.” Kakashi insisted on that, but there was venom in his voice. The way charcoal looked down the whole gray man made Naruto shiver — Kakashi was a man of strict following rules and that included respect, but his eyes showed he despised the former Hokage. For some reason it comforted Naruto.

“He wasn’t there.” Naruto denied, talking about Hiruzen. His voice was shaky.

Being confronted with the fact that people just watched his parents die was as painful as looking at Obito in the eye.

“He was there.” His father confirmed.

Naruto mouthed “no”, perplexed and angry.

How many times can one person fail you and stand in front of you as if nothing happened, without apologizing? He didn’t know whom he should ask first, but his eyes flew to Sasuke.

“He was there, then. Good. And did precisely what he did throughout my whole life: nothing.”

Sometimes the silence is deafening.

Hiruzen lowered his head and prayed for losing his tongue, biting it out and bleeding his entire past. He was to blame for so much of that. He knew from the beginning and never did anything. He could feel his sensei’s eyes all over him, but he couldn’t face him. Tobirama’s disappointment tears your worse than a thousand daggers and suffocates you to a point of no return until you can no longer separate what once was your dignity from the reproach you turned into.

Danzo once suffered from it.

He didn’t do anything then either.

Naruto didn’t have to know that.

He mouthed again, “no”.

A person can’t disappoint you that much and not blast into dust.

(Sasuke was still standing, wasn’t he? But the Third Hokage would disappear into dust as soon as the jutsu broke so technically he built a roster of delusion in Naruto’s chest herein so many others. People sometimes turn to clay, powder and you just don’t see. [Sometimes, too, what the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t feel. At least, that’s what his heart hold onto despairingly)

“He wasn’t there.” Naruto accused again.

Silence.

So the anger boiled, like soup to the sniffing nose in the winter.

“He came in with troops to watch your death and that’s it?” Once again, Tobirama was blue and Hiruzen was nothing but a hole in space — a hole Naruto went to punch. He turned to Kakashi instead.

“You were there.”

It was a charge.

The silence meant guilt.

This time, Naruto punched him. 

“Naruto, don’t!” Minato began to run to his side, but Kakashi already hit the wall/Susanoo’o and taking deep breaths, cleaning the blood from his mouth, only lifted his hand laying on his side trying to get up. He didn’t refuse Obito’s hand when he offered nor Sakura’s glowing hand.

“I didn’t do anything either.” Kakashi said, resigned. As always; as always, carrying the blame for all that happens in the world.

“Stop it.” It was Sakura's turn to hiss.

It is incredible how easily a woman can be forgotten, even when she was healing a comrade just seconds ago.

All eyes turned to her.

She was no longer a liability.

“Drop it, Kashi. Just fucking stop it. Stop this pity party.”

The world slowed its pace around them, her eyes hard, mad and his eyes between defiance and assuming it. It didn’t have to be spoken to be understandable.

It was like the bottom of a giant puzzle finally trying to fit, finally trying to show an image and that small, tiny shit seemed too bright. For Minato, Obito and Naruto seeing someone that was always held so fragile to be so hard and settled, with enough resolve to put Kakashi to at least think to stop would be lifting a burden.

But Tsunade was still at their feet and Tsunade was the one that healed Kakashi from Itachi’s Tsukuyomi and Kakashi and Sakura understood that, no words needed, when they looked at his eyes. One burden, half one, a huge one new.

And then

“What the fuck is going on here?” for once, Sasuke asked something worth listening to.

(What the fuck is going on here?

Here

was too much happening all at once. All the conflicts were meeting tere. Naruto with his father, Naruto with Obito, with Kakashi, with the Hokages, with his whole life. Sakura with Sasuke, Sasuke with Naruto, Kakashi and Sakura. Sakura and Naruto. Hiruzen and Tobirama. Tobirama over everyone. Kakashi and Obito. Fights for power, over fairness, friendship, arrogance, loss, everything was meeting here and here was a fucking terrible place to have this discussion.)

“Shut the fuck up, Sasuke!” Sakura pointed a finger at him, her eyes so wild he recoiled but stepped in front again.

“I ain’t even talking to you —”

“Drop dead.” was all Kakashi said and turned his back to him. Honestly, even if the line sounded like teenager-esque, it wasn’t the time to bicker with him like a twelve year old. Sasuke looked so much like Madara when Hashirama arrived at the field and didn’t have time to play warfare with him.

Sasuke is a fucking crybaby and everyone is sick of it.

Sasuke would never see Sakura as a person, leave it alone as an opponent, so she took it in her favour and feasted on her favourite genjutsu — a particularly nasty one. See it as a payment for all the times he tried to end her life and then just turned her back as if she was dust.

In six quick hand signs, Sakura turned to him in one swift motion he didn’t notice because he never noticed her and never would think of her as a menace. Even after everything. He dropped to the floor — caught in a genjutsu. If it was the proper time, Kakashi would have smiled.

Tsunade was pale, Kakashi was broken, his father dead.

“You!" Naruto pointed again at Obito, hissing like the snake Orochimaru is.

“Enough, Naruto.” Kakashi sensei’s voice dripped all around and the truth was that Naruto looked just like in his first day: yellow, orange, loud and dying to prove his worth, wanting nothing more than help, save, but he was lost. That Naruto long ago was lost and so was this one.

“No! Not enough. No fucking enough. You were there, Kakashi-sensei. You were there and you did nothing!”

Caught in surprise, this time Obito was the one to take a blow. He flew some meters and came to a halt, sand in his eyes, his knees scraped, the punches Kakashi threw at his stomach still hurting.

The punches he threw because he didn’t want to kill him.

That boy with the red eyes and tails trying to find someone to blame sounded too much like himself. He sounded too much like sunken in blood as he was the night he found Rin. When everything went off.

(Naruto wasn’t one to lose his nerve. Tobirama wasn’t one to intervene in fights, Hiruzen wasn’t one to shrink, Minato wasn’t to get angry, Kakashi wasn’t to threaten, Sasuke wasn’t to let be  put on menace over a kunai, Sakura wasn’t to impose herself – not against Sasuke, Hashirama wasn’t to let Tobirama’s temper win.   The only thing in place was Obito now. When Naruto offended him, he defended himself. When he was yelled at, he yelled back. When Naruto hurt him, he

bled.

Naruto was already losing his shit over his responsibility for the dead ones. If he kept like that, he wouldn’t survive. Obito always wondered how Kakashi made it that far. He wondered, more than often than he liked to admit, how he could make survival of a raw, awful thing be so

beautiful.)

“It wasn’t that simple —” Hopelessness swam in Minato’s eyes.

“Fuck it. He was there and he did jack shit —”

That seemed to be the eternal motif: the hangman.

Not one, but all that caused his parents death. Therefore, the ones that, even with his new powers, still stole him the chance to see his mother and his sensei. Thus, the ones that stole him all he always envied. Yet, he did not see what was right in front of his eyes: one of the headsmen was one of the hanged and he was poking him with sticks made of flame. (And Kakashi was letting him, as he always does. Stop this pity party, was what she said. Maybe, someday he will be able to.)

Naruto couldn't fathom how his accusations were the nails in the coffin of Kakashi's father floating mindlessly in his mind; how much it hurt. He couldn't know he wasn't allowed to do anything, but to watch Minato and Kushina die.

The first Hokage cut the air like a blade cutting through crunched leaf: easily but too loud.

“Madara’s still here?”

There was an urge in his words that was lost to only Naruto and his father. The air went full with static and small, teeny rays ran from the ground to the skin (which should be impossible, once the earth doesn’t convey lightning. This was no ordinary shit.) making uncomfortable goosebumps raise.

“Did you, the First God of Shinobi?” What the fuck is he even talking about, Hashirama thought.

“Stop talking to people like that, Naruto!” Minato hissed, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“WHY SHOULD I?” As much as his voice sounded like a thunderstorm it couldn’t be comparable to his elders — Naruto’s was made of nature’s energy, like the Earth itself was giving him some piece of its power to roar, to make the ground tremble.

At the same time there was another thunderstorm, just as potent. Only Naruto didn’t notice, but his covered the whole sound outside his bubble. His eyes appeared to never have been blue at all and would never be again. His hair was wild and couldn’t be tamed, like Kakashi’s, but he didn’t carry that safe sensation like that. No. He just looked like the dangerous whisper he was as a kid.

(As a second thought, for a fly of second, it occurred to Sakura that Kakashi also was once a dangerous whisper. When she looked at his profile her chest was filled with peace and safety, like a harbor. Being with him was like being in the security of home, of a port and yet she knew that ships weren’t made for that. And even with that being recognized she knew very well he could be a powder keg or barrel beer and sail with hair. Just as a dangerous whisper.)

The air outside, the impending danger went quiet.

That was a mistake.

“This is not you at all…” Sakura was pleading. She hated to plead.

“Shut up, you — you — all. Shut up, shut up!”

“Naruto, stop! You are not this kind of person.”

“Why not?” a twelve year old boy. “Why not, why not, why not?” lost, tied, without lunch, his eternal rival and his crush by his side. “I’ve been Naruto,”the kunai tucked in his hand, a promise made in blood. “the good,” calling Sasuke a scary cat, holding a giant snake at his back, smiling not for revenge but for relief. “smiling boy all the time.” mastering the Rasengan, at the cost of almost killing Sakura. “Why do I have to keep going like that when people are dying?” saving Sakura from Sasuke’s hands. “When they are continuing to die?” being saved by Sakura’s hands. 

“Naruto, stop! This isn’t you.”

To Kakashi, every word of Naruto’s was splintered with imagery — pure torture inside his own head.

“This isn’t a fairytale, Sakura, this isn’t like fighting in the Academy to train.”

His mother, a face he didn’t really remember. But the howls of his father over her bed were as loud as the screams of birth and death.

“This is real life.”

The first time he killed. It was a man. He was three. He didn’t mean to, it was an accident. His father told him they should bury the body, but there was no time. Another enemy appeared and Kakashi gained his first scar. But the true terror was his father’s blood covering his eyes and fogging his sight.

“This is fucking more.”

How cold and stiff his father’s body felt at his feet. He had just come back from the Academy, after a short mission. It was supposed to take three days, but with him it only took half. Kakashi made dinner and called for his father. The soup was completely cold when Minato found him.

“People will die.”

He was pretty sure he lost his eyesight, but when he saw Obito’s eyes in a red turmoil he felt no pain and just relief. He finally came to terms with the boy he's known for all these years. They didn’t need to speak to know they recognized themselves as what they were denying all along – best friends. They’ve been in so many situations already and camaraderie grows whether you like it or not. So when the rock removed the light of his body and the eye of his life, he felt like a blade through his torso, cutting him in two.

“They will and will and will continue to die — and, and their — all — theirs — there is their blood in my hands.”

Rin. Rin, Rin, Rin. She haunted him for so long. He lost the count of the nightmares. He decided that going into a work that dealt with no feelings at all was the best and only thing left for him. He would not only never forgive himself, but never forget. The feeling, the sickening feeling. He was way too young to know that feeling way too well. Her body, her blood, her bones, her eyes, her last word, his name never let sleep. The pills and the alcohol helped, but time never heals, it just replaces memories — but some never leave.

“and even worse this is your hands and you’re continuing not to talk about this.”

Minato. Kushina. Small Naruto in the middle. He couldn’t see, but he knew Minato summoned the Shinigami. His sensei was sacrificing himself for the better good. For his child, his wife, his village. Kakashi never hated the land he was born in so much as that day. He saw the long claw of the fox through the chest of the only family he came to know, to see the life leaving their eyes, see them talking to their son for the first and last time in their lives. He could never talk to the boy. There were days he sat in a tree near to the kid’s apartment and would repeat what they said, as if he could hear it. Everytime that yellow hair walked around the streets his heart clenched and his sensei was all he saw. His death. The splash of yellow, red and orange. For once, the Yellow Flash of the Leaf was not fast enough to save the love of his life and his son. He jumped in front of the claw, but they both died together.

(Kakashi wished that if he ever came to love anyone that he had to die with them or it would kill him slowly. Be it a fang in his heart, but to find what he loves and let it kill him slowly — but never before him.)

“All of this is bullshit and I am tired to talk and to talk and to talk just to see if I can put some fucking sense in their minds.”

Itachi and the massacre. Itachi and his thirteen years, his ANBU mask over his head and a smile on his face. Itachi and the smile he wished he could touch under the white porcelain that day in the treetops after they tricked Shisui’s crow. Itachi and the hair ruffle he gave the boy to soothe him from the world he so pretended to not be afraid of Itachi.

Looking at Sasuke the only resemblance he could see was the hair and the pointy, elegant, womanly pale face. But not only a cell held any similarity. Itachi was the man Sasuke wouldn’t even be able to dream of reaching.

“I am tired of being the one that has to do everything.” Naruto finished.

As he stopped speaking the whole electricity came back in a jolt, throwing them out of their feet.

“Fuck.” Kakashi inveigled as Tsunade’s unconscious body flew to an open space and was about to hit a massive rock that would finish killing her, if she wasn’t already dead. Tobirama was faster (because he truly was) and caught her midair.

He turned to them smiling. Sakura was on fire, ready to burn him for smiling over her dead shishou but then she smiled on her own and none of them ever saw such a big smile on her face.

“She is alive.” she nothing but whispered, turning her face to look at Naruto and Kakashi, tears in her eyes and that huge smile. They were smiling back, relief washing their faces, their hearts back on their usual rhythm.

And then Madara simply fucking vanished.

(Three seconds later, so did Sasuke.)

Chapter Text

cope 

kōp/

verb

gerund or present participle: coping

(of a person) deal effectively with something difficult.

"his ability to cope with stress"

October 3032, 3 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"You see," SHIKAMARU SAID FROM WHERE he stood looking down at Hidan "you and I believe in different things. You wanna know what I believe in? The Will of Fire." Hidan had his mouth open and his eyes wide. "Right now, the only god you should be worried about isn't your stupid Jashin, because I'm the one who's about to pass judgement." He had the last kunai with the paper bomb attached to it. 

"You fool!" the mad man yelled from the scrubs. "Don't say I didn't warn you! The day of retribution will come, and the way of Jashin will punish you! And then I'll be the one passing judgement!" His entire chin was soaked in blood and one of his feet was propped at his right side. "My teeth! That's all I'll need! You'll see!" the intensity of his glare burned. "And I'll tear you to pieces."

Shikamaru fled the lighter open and finished the job. 

Now, there was no maniac laugh. Just the bothered ground and the deers.

Right now, there was the sound of bombs and yelling, people howling in pain and other shouting insults. The place was a mess. 

What once was built up mountains, resumed to be just a few tiny rocks swallowed in mud. The few trees that rested in the place, dead branches looking more like claws were set on fire. Only one tree was still standing, poorly, until the ground was shaken and waves of water clashed against each other, provoking a small cyclone that turned into blazed fire that roared so high it set half of the tree on fire and dusted the water off. The tree was millennial and just as it was ready to burn to the ground, becoming a dead piece of history, killed by man and for the man to kill, just as everything around them, a snake of water turned it all into a huge cloud of dark. 

The ninjas kept jumping from branch to branch, from surface to surface, unleashing their elements until facing their imminent deaths. They knew it. From the moment they put their feet out in the battlefield, they knew all they were doing was dance with death, for as long as you can.

There is a thing about war. If you look from up above, far, far away, up in the clouds, as if you are an angel or a god, you won't be able to distinguish who's whom. They are only black spots attacking each other. There is no right or wrong. No good nor bad. Just fighting. You don't know who's your side, who's your enemy. Is like watching ants carrying leaves in middle of a hurricane — as you don't give a fuck about the ants, it is hard to know who is the target you are supposed to give a fuck about. It's just war and war is just death. Lots of blood, lots of life. Innocent people always die. Always. It is unfair with them. They had nothing to do with any of this mess and yet they are ever the first to perish.

When you don't know which side is yours, you can't celebrate nor be worried. You can only watch, observe. Calculate — and that's what Shikamaru was doing. 

He managed to stay in the tree and he managed to make the dark cloud his ally of a great source of shadows. He thought he would burn to death or he'd drown, but in the end it all came to dust and fire and water rose up and blinded him, just to leave him in the branches smelling like the charcoal barbecue Choji so loved.

He was up above watching the battle field. It was a mess of fire, water, wind, earth and big ass lightening. There was smoke everywhere, where the fire fought against the water, wind fed the fire, earth lost to lighting. Most of the time, they didn't have the time to say which jutsu they were using to attack. It was just hand signals and praying for your life.

Kakashi was an easy spot and, yet, hard to follow. The man moved in a blur. It looked impossible to be that fast, yet he was. Minato was placed in another battlefield, leader of the 3rd Company, and Tobirama in another one, leader of the 5th Company. They never placed the three companies in the same fight, unless it was a massive attack — as it had been. To put the three fastest ninjas in one combat, the enemy had to be a fucked up tough one. 

Lately, at least they have been out of these. But not for long, and they knew.

The field Minato was, was still at full potential, showing no signs of flattening. His men were suffering big losses and the strategies changed almost on a daily basis. They sent Shisui and Bee with him, but they were still unsure if Bee would turn against them, so it was proving to be a bad, bad decision. Their fight here, with Kakashi as leader of the 2nd Company, needed to end within two days to send some of theirs to support. 

Tobirama's front was holding well enough and had to keep it that way. He was the one holding the gates at this point. Hinata and Hiashi were crucial there to lead the Bird and Gateau Squad, respectively, and sooner than later they would have to ship Tsunade back. 

(No one ever thought the head of the Hyuga clan would be back in the field. Much less under his daughter's orders. Even less that Hinata would be one of the best ANBU captains and that her eyes still shone when she smiled, despite the dry blood on her chin. Her father seemed mesmerized every time she took a killing blow or barked an order in his direction, mask in or out, when the conditions were bad. Hinata's hair was past her hips now and she wore it like a crown, now known as the Princess of the Demon Eagle, even though her hands turned into lions. She turned out to be the best sensor in history, able to see for over 20km. She also wore the title like a crown, her cheeks nowadays only having time to blush when she was taking her mask out to breathe or when she was opening her eyes in front of Sakura. She still stuttered something, though — but her voice never came out shaking.)

Their own fort was built to resist for two months, which was their plan to stay there so the rotation of squads should've begun already, but the battles turned out to be much worse than they thought. Every day was one less day for them to build the proper defense and one more to add to their theory that they were back.

Kakashi and Shikamaru were the ones that planned the attack and defense boards, that dealt with strategy for this front. But they couldn't sit back and watch, see if their plans were working. Their minds had to be at its best, because you never can predict the other's instability. You can be a hundred percent sure an enemy will act in a x way and when it comes to the battle, they go for a y you never thought about. So you have to plan it all again. 

That's war: playing full time. And you cannot take your time to rest. Your mind can't take its time to rest. 

Shikamaru was at the top of the tree, trying to cover as much ground as possible. InoShikaCho broke apart a few hours ago. The enemy wasn't dumb and found a way to separate them. He found Choji already, who was at this precise moment crushing five men between his huge hands and stepping in another god knows how much with his right foot, but he wouldn't last more than one hour at best. He couldn't find Ino. Still, he kept on dancing in the shadows. Just at this tree he was able to kill almost thirty men. It casted a big shadow that was only about to grow, but he needed Ino.

Then a puff of smoke showed on his right side. He barely had the time to look from the corner of his eye and raise an eyebrow. The men right in front of him, seven of them, fell to their feet. Death by shadow strangulation complete.

"Found the girl." Pakkun said with his bored voice and ugly face. Shikamaru was about to ask just how he knew he needed to find Ino, but the dog raised a paw and shut him. "Kakashi knew."

And that just explained everything. Of course Kakashi knew. The man sees it all. He rivaled Shikamaru in terms of geniuses. 

"Where?"

"Five o'clock. Can your shadow catch her in this range?"

"I can't see her."

The pug sighed and it never ceased to surprise any of them how much the dog looked and sounded like a human. 

"I will catch her."

And he disappeared. Shikamaru trapped more enemies and crushed them. The faster, the better. The army seemed infinite, but not his chakra.

This war is going to last years, he and Kakashi knew. Everybody knew, probably, but it was better to think it'd end soon enough for them to return home to eat turkey for Thanksgiving. But it was January 21st and there was no turkey for them. 

As soon as Ino entered his eyesight, he had to stop himself from gag. Her right arm was utterly smashed and half of her head had been scalped. Sakura was right behind her, making the last arrangements just for her to be able to perform the jutsu. Once the medic let go, Ino fell to her feet, a big ass dog by her side. He knew Ino just looked worse than she felt, otherwise Sakura wouldn't let her stay in the field — not for long. But Ino states and then, they worked as one. 

He stopped, Ino possessed, Choji smashed. They kept it for hours. As the moon rose, he knew he was of poor use, so he retrieved it. 

In long wars, no one can stand fighting non stop for days and days. It is like going on patrol. Some rest while others take care. And it goes on and people die and new arrive and more die. There was no time for proper burials. They had to burn the dead. It was heartless, but they didn't had how or the time. 

It was a clean death and a dirty destiny. No one deserves to be set on fire. Much less alive, even though it's been happening more and more. 

(Although, it has always been. It seems war just puts things in a new light. When you train in the academy or see Itachi training in one go his Fireball jutsu, all it looks like to you is how to make someone jump to a tree or to be impressed by the hole it makes on the ground. But no. Fire jutsu aren't just to make the enemy jump out of the way. They melt to the floor and the smell of human skin burnt sticks in your nose and in the depths of your brain forever, to whisper behind your ears at night.)

The day Shikamaru's stomach turned was when Ohnoki used his particle dismantling to annihilate enemies in the same go the get rid of the corpses. In one strike, he ended comrades and enemies and there was no time to be shocked. 

(Except Shikamaru saw Ino vomit and Naruto's mouth fall open. It isn't that big of a deal, but it was. It was like running a sword through your comrade's chest to reach the enemy's one. 

It was fucked up, but everything at that place was.)

When he entered the HQ, he had to lean against the wall in order to stand on his feet. His legs shaked and his head felt dizzy. Chakra depletion, he knew. But these days, everyone suffered from it the whole time. Sakura produced new soldier pills that tasted worse than cow's shit, but kept them alive. Thank God they had the best medic at their side and not against them.

But there was no God to thank when he looked at her face. She was pale and yet her cheeks were rosy as if she just got burned. Kakashi was planted by her side, his hand by her hip and if he wasn't so tired, he might've even raise a brow at this.

There was no room for gossip. There was no room for gossip in their lives. The truth is, ever since they were seventeen and the War stuck on them like a glue, like a bubblegum that refuses to leave your shoe, like the piece of chicken stuck on your throat ready to choke you to your death there was no room for mundane things. What if Sakura slept with Hinata or if Ino slept with that nameless girl before his house exploded or if Shikamaru himself slept with Temari and let her cry on his shoulder every time afterwards just as she let him cry and curse sometimes? What if, what if, what if? Sakura loved sleeping in Naruto's lap and only when you're 12 and immature you laugh about it.

When they still had a home, half of Konoha moved into the Hyuga compound as it fit them all and they needed the vicious tongues they loved to say they were the kings and queen of orgy — every.goddamn.night. Probably, not even Naruto has this much stamina. 

And after a while it became normal. Just normal. If Sakura slept with Kakashi he wouldn't be a pedophile because she wasn't 16 anymore and she didn't give a fuck about his title of sensei/professor ever since 13 when she joined ANBU. Ino could sleep with Genma if she wanted to — some people even liked to say she did. People liked to say Kakashi and Sakura fucked because they were close. But who the fuck cares? Boi, fuck, he looks asexual and too pure for this world but people could fuck Yamato. Or Iruka. Sai. Anyone. And the funniest and most important fact: saying this doesn't mean they do.

Maybe people liked to talk about this shit to have a sense of normalcy in their lives. Maybe they were just fuckers with nothing better to do. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't mean it's real and wrong just because everyone loves to say so.

It just means that when you can die or see your friends, the ones you love the most on the Earth die by your arms or in your arms, gossip and taboo are shit.

But in his mind when he took in the thin line her mouth was and how old Kakashi looked. The man didn't look a day past 20, but right now, all his years weighed him down, just like it used to happen with Tsunade when her henge would drop. His mouth felt suddenly dry and no amount of water would take the sour taste away.

Sakura was leaning on a pillar, in a human body, before she shattered face on the floor because just like Kakashi, she couldn't.

Shit happened. 

Shit has been happening, as per they were lost in two theories: the Akatsuki was back or a fake Akatsuki was back. 

When Madara vanished for the second time, he had the courtesy of un-sealing every single member of the affiliation, as far as they knew by now. They didn't meet all of them, not even when the Allied Forces ended the Fourth War — or what should have been the end. 

The attacks didn't stop. The war didn't stop.

It was small, just random attacks, that grew. It started from the bottom and now, we're here. And now, no one knows the truth anymore — except that they saw Sasori and Sasori was the reason for their fort. 

Yet, they didn't get a nice look at Sasori, a pat in the back, sit here, my friend, let's drink some, let me look in your eyes.  

There was no fucking way to know if he was reanimated or if he was back. Even worse: there was no way to know for sure he was the Sasori.

That's what the fort is about.

It could be a copycat, though. Many reanimations literally exploded when the war ended, so it was plausible if those were borrowed, homemade cloaks of a bunch of thugs relying on the moment to make their move. 

The whole thing was troublesome and most nights were spent awake, trying to make sense off of this mess. They were all broken, barely functional shinobi in the battlefield and that was growing too dangerous. 

Someone, something was back or was new, it doesn't matter, the result is the same: there are fights going on and off, retreat, attack, withdraw, advance, recoil, charge in. This battle has been going for over three weeks, twenty two days, a goddamn month it would be, non stop, the longest they faced yet. The past five conflicts never passed fifteen days, but now they were at full force and they were attacking a particularly difficult spot to allies to reach (and it seemed everyday some weren't trying any more, but they didn't had the time or the strength to dwell on that at the moment), so it was basically the Leaf getting kicked in the ass and fucked mercilessly. 

Sasuke, as the good traitor he was, wasn't by their side — but also as the dramatic angst teenager, he wasn't their enemy. He just was somewhere hunting peace of spirit or god knows what. The fucker could have at least the decency of showing up, but then again it was Sasuke. The last they knew about him, he was dead. At this rate, they couldn't find the energy to care — as well for the fact, he turned out to be alive twice.

(There is this story about the boy that cries wolf. The tale concerns a shepherd boy who repeatedly tricks nearby villagers into thinking a wolf is attacking his town's flock. When a wolf actually does appear and the boy again calls for help, the villagers believe that it is another false alarm and the sheep are eaten by the wolf. Is what John Hookman and Louis Untermeyer said, I've read once. The moral stated in the Greek version is "this shows how liars are rewarded: even if they tell the truth, no one believes them", it echoes by Diogenes Laërtius.

Sasuke's life and death were the wolf and the tale itself. They couldn't spare time to care about him anymore — not even Naruto at the moment. Sasuke was a bridge to be crossed as they got there. Maybe they'll find only bones at the meeting point, but then again, Sasuke is his own wolf and they can't save him from himself. He chose his path.)

"The fight is dying. I'd give only a few more hours." Sakura told Shikamaru as she walked away, in the direction of the private conference room. She was barefoot. 

"What are the numbers?"

"They're outnumbered now, by four to one. But they aren't retreating fast enough, which makes me concerned."

"Are we fighting empty shells again?" His voice was tired and he almost burned his finger when lighting the cigarette. Kakashi took one for himself without asking and said with the fag between his lips, his voice muffled. 

"That's what we are concerned about." He gave back Shikamaru's lighter (he didn't notice the man drew it from him) with a loud click of the metal closing. 

The Hokage opened the door to the conference room and in the blinding light he could see just how whacked Kakashi actually was. His hair was its usual mayhem, but some were even more disheveled, some locks really dark shades of black, red, dark grey, crimson red. His left eye scar was like fresh, like some tried to rip his eye out of his face again, along with a nasty deep cut in his cheek, that began in the line of his eyebrow and ended near his chin, his hitai-ate was gone, his clothes were torn and blood soaked its way through all of his entire uniform and the was a gaze drenched in red. His left arm was still in raw flesh with Sakura's glowing hand healing it while they walked. Both of his hands had just remains of his gloves, the palms burned due the Raikiri, purple lightning, only god knows.

Sakura was all fucked up as well. The tiny scar in the tip of her right eyebrow now had a twin much bigger; not bigger as Kakashi's, but it ripped from three quarters down her forehead and ended at the side of her eye — if it was a bit more to the left, she would have lost it. As it was, her face was soaked in dry blood, slashed in different directions as she clearly sipped her face many times and it was smeared with dirt too. Her pants were torn, almost her whole left leg trouser was ripped off — he assumed she used it to make Ino's tourniquet — showing a skin full of scars and new healing battle wounds. There was a huge gap in her right leg, a hole that spread over all her inner thigh. It was an ugly shade of purple as if it was a big bruise, but Shikamaru knew better: if she wasn't as skill medic as she was, she would've lost that leg. Probably, someone hit her with enough strength to almost burn a hole through it.

Sakura's jounin uniform had seen better days, as it didn't exist anymore. All she had left was a dark shirt, ripped here and there, but with her left side to the middle of her back completely ripped, her skin was still pink, but the healing process was still visible. Sakura had been skinned. 

Unlike Ino, Sakura and Kakashi always felt worse than they looked. Temari once caught Kakashi stitching his shoulder hidden behind a tree in the middle of the battle because it was "just a scratch" and he "couldn't waste time with such silly things". When she forcefully took a look at it, he had nearly romped a tendon and was shrugging it off. But that was regular Kakashi. He's been this way ever since he learnt to walk and would be until his burial, but for Sakura, no one saw it coming.

Being a medic, it was her duty and a sense of responsibility to heal herself properly to then heal the others. Except that she threw this rule into the trash and forgot it forever. Her wounds were always the worst and she was the last on the line for her own recovery. Usually, Sakura just healed herself enough to keep good in battle and don't collapse while taking care of others. She never stayed behind, too. It was an order for the medic nin stay behind to heal, but Sakura was always in the front lines and no one would ever take her from there. 

They'd seen better days.

"We have a new Intel." 

Kakashi said as they reached the table, popping his feet up, crossing his ankles in it and his chair was sustained by only one leg. Looking at him like that he didn't look like the Hokage or a living legend or known by his brutal murders. 

"How do we know it isn't a lie?" Shikamaru's voice was so dragged it could be a slug.

"Well, Kakashi took care of it." 

Nothing else had to be said. Ibiki was still the god of torture, but ten years in ANBU changes people. Forever. 

(It was somehow important that people never know how good Sakura was at interrogation. She learnt it all from Kakashi, all his quirks, all his methods, every thing she could put her hands on. Yet, people didn't know. It was important for the balance of the world that Sakura still remained as a hot headed. It saved them more than once when the enemy fell at her hand and thought they would mess with her with a few words here and there and, mostly, when they took her for helpless. 

There will always be remarkable the day she made a guy split his guts and the truth with a branch and then proceeded to impale his partner as a way of warning. It was a no one's land, where they were. It was the time they still had Sai and Yamato. It was one of the times no one knew where to look, but at her. It was one of those moments they forgot she had pink hair and soft breasts. It was at times like this that she remembered that Kakashi's hair was soft as a plume even if his words could still slash through like a sword, as his voice always vibrate when she buried her face in his chest and asked him if "it was normal to kill, torture, make the other feel pain and don't feel guilt for it." There, at a cabin, with his gloves off, as he was trying to dismantle the knots in her hair, that she learnt his calluses were the smoothest thing than any silk she could dress herself with — even covered in sins of all the lifes he'd taken and there is not enough gods to forgive it — and he learnt that her bloodied fingernails were the most beautiful shade of pink he'd ever seen — even covered in sins of all the lives she was taking, everyday more and more and there is not enough salvation from being a medic to redeem her.

"You don't see pain when you inflict pain. The only shocking part of it is the fact that they overlooked you for so long in need to see you sully them with blood as you clean your hands when passing by them." As she laughed and asked him if Jiraya wrote poetry instead of just porn, Sakura swallowed star collisions and would burn a supernova just to see his smile. 

They learned, through and through, about each other's loneliness and the fear of being forgotten for who they were, not just what they did. It took Kakashi a long time to see Sakura for who she really was — and for a long, long time, he was her only friend when it came to be her real self. 

Her hair was tied in a braid with no more knots now and her hands were clean.)

"He wasn't just a rogue ninja, as we thought. The man had much more than he let it show. He gave me a little bit of trouble." Kakashi pointed at his eye, his voice was darker than the night, even though he managed to keep it casual, as if he was talking about the furniture that didn't match his apartment. 

Sakura, on the other hand, was almost gleaming in anger. Her chakra was unstable and it was flaring, not in the green light, but in an orange. Her aura wasn't of a medic, it was of a warrior. 

"The piece of shit," she spat on the floor. Wow. "thought he was fucking smarter than us. I ain't that good in interrogation 'cause sometimes I lose my temper, y'know," (yeah, Sakura, everyone knows.) "but this time, Kakashi snapped." That seemed to make her angrier.

"Sakura, I'm right fucking here. Don't talk about me as if I'm not in the room." He had something in his speech that Shikamaru knew only both of them would understand and no one else. 

"Let's say" her words were punctuate in pure ire "this fucker said some shit he really, really shouldn't." 

She walked past him at the table and grabbed a bottle and threw it at Shikamaru. 

He was about to say they drank too much — because they did, but Kakashi cut him off, taking a sip of his own bottle.

"Don't be a baby and drink it. We got it from one of their men. It tastes like mint."

As he took a sip and it burned down to his gut, Shikamaru noticed how ungrateful he was a step about to be. They always had booze. Always. Sakura informed them once that one of the most important things to soldiers is their feeding and then she proceeded to put on the table the strongest shit he ever drank in his life. It had 70% of alcohol and was green. Sakura said she would give it to them in three cases and those three only: that day, as it was the beginning of a war none of them knew how much it would last; the day it ends, so they would celebrate. When she didn't speak for a while and didn't say what was the third occasion, it hit them without words: the third occasion it is of we are to die for sure.

So, they had booze and good food. The alcohol was optional and exceptionally no one could ever go to the field drunk. It was suicide. They had ninjas that were alcoholics, that's per sure, so their amount was 55ml/day, so they could keep control on how much they were drinking — and if they were trying to get their fellas shots, they had little control. 

It might sound reckless to offer alcohol to soldiers, but it is precisely at times like these that men need it. Kakashi always says that if it was that way at his time, everything would be different. 

The way he speaks about this matter leaves no room for confrontation. "Everything would be different. So much would've been spared." He said to every one and to no one in particular. "It would be. It should be."

Albeit nodding, no one seemed to catch the glistening in his eye. No one, but Tsunade. (And Shikamaru, that was smoking at a corner, watching Sakura pop three pills down without water)

Shikamaru wasn't the biggest fan of alcohol, but they always saved him the best and he was about to complain because they always drank strong shit. Not only tired and unaware, he was beginning to be an asshole.

As he passed the bottle back to Sakura he realised what his sharp mind should've deduced much, much earlier: she hadn't changed clothes in days. She and Kakashi had been there, fighting and interrogating, without a break, with all but booze and cigarettes.

(Sakura, taking pills, as she always as and Shikamaru wanted to kick himself because he didn't know, didn't notice, didn't see when it began to happen. When he laid eyes on the situation, it was already too late.)

Shikamaru made up his mind and decided that when they passed a city, he would buy them a beer and a chocolate — and pepper to Kakashi pour over his chocolate, something like this.

Sakura took the last sip of her bottle and sighed, looking so much like her mentor it was scary. Clapping her hands, she said. "Up, up, we go. Things to do, intel to gather, motherfucker to spank, shit like that." and left the room.

Shikamaru would've asked something, as her tone was forcefully light and strained, but the gaze in Kakashi's eyes made him remember her statement from earlier about the guy saying something he really shouldn't have. 

They were now descending down a corridor, with moss in the walls, a ugly green tone and the walls were drowned in humidity, the bottle back and forth between the two.

The hall was narrowed and they took several turns. It was a maze, good enough to rival the ANBU HQ. When they finally reached what seemed to be a plain wall, Kakashi cut his hand and smeared the blood on the stone. It squinted and opened with a loud thum. Two more sets of stairs and then, they reached a big room, with sparse cabinets on it. Five cabinets in total. It could've been a big room with other rooms, but it was almost like tents. Except they had chakra lines around them. Anyone without permission that'd try to run would have a really painful death. 

The shit was serious. 

They had to build four more bunkers in the past months, used mostly to interrogate and sometimes, to put those unable to fight out of the line until they recovered. 

They had five rooms, each with five cabinets. These rooms were at Section C, saved to interrogation. They were divided in 15 sections, that were nothing but small rooms saved to keep prisoners at dark, but that were used as markers to orientation. 

The Section A was saved for the strategists. It wasn't nearly as big as the C and not as complex to find and was divided in four rooms: one to plan the attacks, one to the defense, one to all the info they gathered and could be used and, the most important one: flee. 

They had over 200 ninja with them and they knew that something could go terribly wrong and they might need to vanish within hours, so it was the room full of fuinjutsu, escape routes, disperse techniques, ample range of forbidden genjutsus. Only eight people had access to this section. It wasn't as big as session C, but it's walls were gigantic, with so many papers it was hard to know each was each. Only Kakashi, Shikamaru, Minato, Naruto, Tsunade, Sakura, Hinata and Temari had the permission to enter. (Temari was a goddamn fucking great strategist and, being the only one outside the Leaf, she always had new incomes they could use.) Anyone else that tried to enter, would meet the same chakra lines and die. 

The Section B was the one with the dorms. Was the normal one, without much thought. It was just bed rolls and bedrolls side by side, but one could request one proper bedroom. They had, actually, ten rooms with multiple bed rolls, as in shared rooms. People didn't complain, as there was no much use. When they wanted to fuck, no one gave a damn and there was so rooms no one used or some that were free at certain times.

Almost no one did request the private rooms, but the biggest in hierarchy had theirs. Hierarchy is a bitch when you're not in it, but Shikamaru had his bedroom (a sad tent, but big enough to have a small, old, weird table and a place to place his chogi board.

Kakashi was the only one that didn't sleep in section B. No one knew where he slept, actually. 

Kakashi commanded the biggest troop in history. In military terms, XXXXXX, what he did. 

In the military hierarchy, he couldn't go any higher. In the field, he was higher than the Hokage and now, he was both. 

He explained to Naruto the hierarchy, once, if he really wanted to be a Hokage and the shinobi world always would face new wars. As Kakashi spoke, no one in the room dared to think of besting him. There was no way. He could be the War and Peace walking, as I read it once. 

It all depends on the numbers that are under your command. Kakashi commanded a Region, that goes from the strength 10,000,000-100,000,000 men, constituent units 4+ army groups, as 1 army group is 2+ armies, that's 400,000–1,000,000.

That was more than 100 million under him, but that can't go any higher. He was called General, but could be Field Marshal, Colonel General or Big Ass Bitch. 

Down him, was XXXXX, aforementioned, a Front, in which his 2+ armies go from 

2–4 corps, the strength of 100,000–200,000, the XXXX, called the Army. The corps, a formation, 20,000–50,000, are the equivalency of 2+ divisions or legions, another formation, that are XX, 2–4 brigades or regiments, 6,000–20,000. The lone X, the brigade, 3,000–5,000 the constituent units of 2+ regiments, 3–6 battalions, that were 1,000–3,000 yadda, yadda, yadda. By each means, Naruto always fainted and had instant ramen with sake. 

He looked up at Kakashi and said nothing but "How can this hat be white?". Shikamaru never thought Naruto could say something so deep.

The Section D was the kitchen and canteen. Sometimes they had food, sometimes they had pills. Sakura always worked her best for them to eat real food, because they needed to eat . Ration bars and food pills aren't food, they are to help you, not go sustain you. People used to complain about the quality of the food instead of being thankful for it. Instead of anger, Shikamaru saw tears in Sakura's eyes and then she disappeared among Kakashi — three bottles of sake with them. 

One day, it was Minato that stormed over them. He spoke about the wars he faced and told them how "bitch fuckers" they were being for complaining about Sakura's attempt to make 'em real, quality food. He also said "if you wanna go to the battlefield full to the ass in ration bars, don't come crying when you lose some piece of your body because you weren't feeling strong enough. It is on you being fucking ungrateful. It is not a third of her responsibility to give a fuck about it. She is  medic nin, not a cook. She does it because she cares. And that's how you thank her? I would be ashamed." No one else complained after that. Most shinobi were perplexed by Minato swearing, but with time and circumstances, no one can keep their cool forever. And Sakura was almost a daughter to him. 

Everyone seemed to be out of who they were. No one would be chocked if Tobirama yelled and swore, but Minato was all smiles and his face was a stone in the field, paralyzing the enemies with fear, but no one would ever imagine he even knew the word "fuck" out Kakashi's or Kushina's mouth (she did actually had an amazing repertoire). War changes us all. 

The last session, the Section E, was their made up hospital. Was the cleanest place. It was separated into five rooms: the huge UIC that took the place of two rooms, the beds — an infinite row of white sheets, two operations rooms and PS.

Tsunade was in the tent they entered, where it read "2241B Section 12 330076 C session", her body supported only by the wall while she was panting and her henge dropped a bit, along with nasty cuts and burns. 

In the middle of the room, was the prisoner. He looked at them, smug in his features and had a toothless smile. 

"Oh, oh, if it isn't my dear pink—"

His voice died with blood filling his mouth as Kakashi punched him hard enough to break a few ribs and cut his oxygen supply. The man's features changed abruptly. There was no smirk, just fear. 

He looked at Kakashi with his eyes low and blood spilling from the left corner of his mouth and an ugly purple pattern rose through his chest. Kakashi used a lightning punch and this was fucking amazing. No drag right now.

"Give us what we want." And we let you go, is what usually is said after this phrase, but there wouldn't be no mercy for the man. Yuo, he learnt.

"But what do you want? Didn't I give enough information for that brain of yours to work with?"

In a flash, his whole body was shaken in electricity and he began to convulse, white bubbles growing out of his mouth. And just as soon as it began it stopped. Yuo dropped his head in his chest and was having a hard time breathing. Tsunade was smiling. That was more terrifying than anything and, as Yuo lifted his head, he must've come to the same conclusion. 

She walked in his direction, crippling a little in her right leg and her older face was a hell of a sight. 

"So, our pretty brains worked out more than you think. But we still want more.

"We want the location."

"As I said you stupid bitch, I don't know where they are."

Oh, no. No one calls Tsunade "stupid bitch". The man didn't have time to register his mistake, because, in a heartbeat, she broke his neck. 

Kakashi only sighed. 

"Tsuna, you so have to work on your temper."

"Fuck off, brat."

Shikamaru rearranged all the notes on the table and began to read them, circling here and there, humming to himself while Kakashi made coffee. Sakura was attending to Tsunade and Lady Katsuyu simply popped in and crawled on all their shoulders. 

When he was finished and the coffee was over, Tsunade was already attending to other injuries and Sakura moved to another tent.

"He really gave us a lot to work with. Why kill him?" Shikamaru asked lazily behind his cigarette, his plastic cup of coffee in his hands.

"He was a dead end already. No time to waste."

Finishing the sentence, he withdrew his tanto and decapitated the Yuo. Kakashi picked it off the floor and put it over a table, setting black flames in the body, that vanished from existence in seconds.

Shikamaru's brows finally lifted.

"Tsunade asked me to stick his head in a high metal steak. As a warning."

When Kakashi was already out of the door, Shikamaru said in a low voice. 

"What did he say?"

There was a long pause. He thought Kakashi wouldn't answer. 

And he didn't. 

Shikamaru stood there, staring at the pool that once was the corpse headless and blood coating the floor. 

"What a drag."

six years before

August of 3027, 2 years before the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

“She can't go.”

IT WAS SAID IN such a deadpanned tone it sounded like introducing yourself for the tenth time at the day, at the same time it sounded like a take out deal when your shift just ended: deprived of life, settled and unarguable. The tone itself was enough to raise both Tsunade’s eyebrows even before it was conscious to her.

Kakashi had already got on his feet and Tsunade regretted letting him up. Probably, he'd be less cocky if he was still staring at the floor as a reminder. 

Kakashi was standing in the middle of her office, his hands on his pockets, with a look in his face that made him look bored with a characteristic sleepiness in his eye, as if he was ordering a coffee just for the sake of doing something to get out of boredom. 

(In his defense, he booked an appointment, got only two and a half hours late, knocked on the door, bowed and then spoke. Not much, but it is something.)

He was ordering her around, giving her the look you give your wall when you run out of things to do — like she was something between a caterpillar and a grocery store’s shelf.

Tsunade lifted her eyes from the paperwork she was giving a bored look and looked at him like he had forbidden sake production for life. A bigot could fall over his head and she’d be pretty much pleased right now.

“Excuse me?"

He kept his gaze low — the same you give when you eye a small child that just started crying, but you know you can still get away with it, so you don’t even bother before turning your back — and spoke like she was a child that had asked him the same question ten times.

“Sakura. She can't go." He stated. And that’s all.

“What are you talking about?" A thunder roared in the back of her mind and she wondered if it was the itch to break the table in two or the start of a very nasty headache.

He just said: "Sakura."

"Sakura Haruno."

"Sakura Haruno."

"Sakura, my apprentice?"

"Sakura, your apprentice."

Jesus fuck.

"Hatake, I may have not seen much of you in action, but I know how you got your nickname. You don't need to keep repeating everything I say."

He just stood there staring at her, his dead fish expression betrayed nothing, one hand probably already holding his damned book, one eye behind that fucking Hitai-ate and he could be fucking sleeping for all she was concerned. The man was a fucking nightmare. 

He just stood there. Tsunade considered how harmful it would be to the village to snap his neck — financially speaking, the rest is another demerit for another time.

She looked back at him.

Dead air only.

It only lasted about two seconds before she started yelling.

"Hatake, I don't have all day. That was your fucking cue to speak."

She threw the pen she was using to blindly sign her papers into the table causing a little crack in it that didn’t go unnoticed by him, but the word was true that he had a death wish, then. She was annoyed and annoyed was just a sneeze from angry and angry is never good.

"Sakura can't go on this mission." Kakashi said it like he was saying "sit" to a dog.

Tsunade doesn't like to be ordered around. 

She got angry.

"You do realise you're talking to your Hokage, right, you brat?"

"Yes." Kakashi said simply, on the verge of indifference, not yet hitting insolence or disrespect, but, nonetheless, she arched a brow.

He got the message: he fucked up. Kakashi was a field man, not an autocrat. Dealing with the kids was his worst nightmare and he wondered every night how he survived it. They decided it was a good idea to take a S-rank close-to-be sociopath to take care of 12 year old kids. How they decided upon that was beyond him and would always be. He was used to state orders, to say "kill", "leave no survivors", no "focus the chakra on your feet", "try not to rip your eye off with this shuriken". And men from the field are assholes and not used to women in power. 

Kakashi was the fucking living legend, among few others in the Village, so he used to be the Captain in missions, not usually taking orders from women. At least, he wasn't used to it. People poured too much into Hatake's bowl and that led him precisely to where he was standing now. 

So it wasn't just because he was a sexist that he still didn't know how to properly treat Tsunade, but it came with years of conditioning. 

The same was true for Sakura. That's why she's weak: she's a woman.

“Yes, Lady Tsunade.” He added with a bow. The woman didn’t blink. 

“Lady Hokage.” He tried again and she arched her eyebrow even further — he bowed further. It shouldn't be physically possible for an eyebrow to go even higher, but yet it did.

“Lady Hokage?" again — and he was with his upper body halfway down, but he still could see her over his hair.

She seemed to be having fucking fun with him not being fucking able to know how to refer to his own leader. He indeed needed to get out a bit more not just for killing. Maybe go to a bar with company not just after targets or to get blind drunk. Leave the house a little more, not only for the Memorial Stone, but to, well, bars and maybe some restaurants and try not to fall into pattern with Genma when he was up to "women houses". He wasn't the biggest fan of prostitutes, because, once again, he was used of this places for mission. It is easier to get people in your bed in bars or the street market, the hospital, the library, the ANBU HQ, the Hokage Tower, the civil district — you just need to know how to talk to them. He didn't do "women houses". He didn't do well with prostituion. He's seen his fair amount in life.

Tsunade put her hands on the table and leaned her chin on it, brow still arched, the evil shadow of a smile.

Kakashi was feeling the bead of sweat on his forehead. How the fuck do you call the Hokage nowadays? He only reported yes, no, dead, understood. 

"Lady Hokage Tsunade?" 

Nothing. 

Ok, the woman can hold a stare, apparently for hours if you piss her off. Kakashi was growing self conscious. Were they playing some "stare your subordinate to death because he came in like a cunt” contest? Did he really offended her that much? 

"Huh, Lad—"

"Sit, Hatake."

He threw himself in the chair in the most respectful way he could. Yet, he sat on it as if it was his armchair and he was about to open his dirty books or just a cooking book and put his beautiful feet on the living room table, his ankles crossed and a hot mug of tea resting beside. 

“Take that fucking smug look off of your face.” Tsunade smiled to herself behind one pigtail that fell on her face when she downed to open the device on the middle of the table.

The Hokage liked to lie to herself that she had her “Special Occasion Drinks”, but that was bullshit. It was just some expensive shit in some hardly different spot just as a disguise for others and for herself. It was an everyday thing.

When Naruto found her in that shithole to drag her back, which was supposed to be a Special Occasion — because Orochimaru crossed her path, bled in front of her, promised her Dan and her little brother back. It was just alcohol. She could lie all she wanted, but it was just an addiction anyway.

That's a common thing you do when you don't want to admit you don't have control anymore. Tsunade has many bottles disguised around the office, her home, the Hospital even, everywhere. She calls these bottles the "Special Occasion" ones. You know that really expensive wine your uncle you don't even remember the name gave you as a birthday gift five years ago and you keep telling yourself you will open it on a special occasion, when you finally get a promotion, married or killed? Yeah, that kind of bottle. Except that people like Tsunade have plenty of those and they are just a decoy. They are a lie she tells to herself — Kakashi tells similar lies to himself too. 

You can keep bottles wherever you want, call and label them whatever you want, but it won't change the fact you are delaying something you know it's coming and you are avid for it. There is no denial when you look expectantly at the bottle every time you close the cabinet door, just expecting which day it'll be the excuse. Until you run off excuses someday and they will be just bottles.

And she knew Hatake knew — he suffered the same, even though it seemed it would take him some years to realise his trips to the bar would become more and more frequent and he would realise way too late. And there’s nothing worse than too late.

(Years later, he told her that a poet named Bukowski once wrote that

"there are worse things

than being alone

but it often takes

decades to realize this

and most often when you do

it's too late

and there's nothing worse

than too late”

And the drunk womanizer — was it Kakashi or Bukowski who could tell — was goddamn right. And that's fucking sad.)

With her not-so-special bottle she picked one not-so-special cup and watched as his posture changed. Men aren’t used to women in power. Hatake was one of those and, honestly, she couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t used to women like her, even though he had Anko as an acquaintance. And doubting Sakura was more than expected. She would be disappointed if he really trusted her to be a good shinobi. The girl was a fucking disaster, caring more about her hair and the Uchiha boy than dodging kunais. But that girl fled the village among the annoying piece of “avenger.” That Sakura was as dead as the Third Hokage and, some days, Tsunade wondered if it wasn't Orochimaru who murdered her as well, the day he killed the remains of a normal teen on Sasuke.

That Sakura didn't exist for so long and Kakashi was at the front seats when it happened, he saw it all, the blood splatters covered his eyes as well — yet, first impressions matter. And Sakura still showed herself as a motherfucking shame and for women to be taken seriously, it was a ridiculous amount of trouble. But getting back on track and proving yourself after falling, well, some people never made it.

Tsunade sat in front of him and filled her glass three times and by the fourth, he cleared his throat, eyed the bottle, eyed the woman, eyed the distance to the window and to the door as much as he could without moving his head and was about to speak when she pointed a finger at him. 

“I won't allow this kind of behaviour. The Third was very complacent in a lot of ways I'm not.” She put the bottle in the middle of the table, her glass with it.

(He looked at it and remembered the page he stopped in Violence. It involved a bottle and an office. The precise moment was about to count how many cups were left of the beverage for the protagonists get drunk enough to have what was known as "blameless sex", the "drunk sex". It is a way to put sex in a scene when there is unresolved tension, but you just wanted to see them fuck so you get them drunk.

The truth is, it is very hard to count how many cups it takes to end a bottle. Bottles don’t come with “You can’t swipe me on six glasses, watch out!” tags. People just guess or are just really used to it. This bottle was one of 750 ml. By his experience it would take six glasses of wine, five tall glasses of water, eight cups of sake and you can down it without any glasses in a record time of ten to twelve minutes without getting really nauseous or obstructing your nasal way by covering your mouth for too long. So he had four cups of sake.  

Looking back at Tsunade, he remembered how in love with her Jiraiya had to be, as all the protagonists of all the editions had her characteristics. Looking back at the bottle, he thought how much of a fool he was for trying to intervene on a mission of his ex student, whom he had barely seen in the past years. But just as Jiraiya and his protagonists and his bottles and drunk sexes excuses, it all just pointed at how much he still cared.)

Kakashi held her gaze because looking away seemed the wrong thing to do. 

It was like she was daring him to drink it and he couldn’t read in between the lines on why she would want it, like she knew something he didn't or if it would be offensive not to drink it. So he just fucking did anyway. Free booze from the Hokage.

Kakashi took it in his gloved fingers, filling the cup to the top and seeing his calculations failed him by little — he had a little bit more than two and a half cups left — and didn't wait for an order. Strong shit. It hit the back of his throat in a burning way that left a hot sensation and some part of him thanked the woman. Though, special thanks wouldn’t take a place by the way she was looking at him and if her fame made her justice, he better just drink himself numb before she smashed him. 

He didn't fill it again. 

“She can't go.” It came out smoother, not an order anymore, but not pleading neither.

Not treating her like a subordinate, but not understanding she was the Hokage. For a genius, Hatake can be pretty stupid. 

Tsunade's been Hokage for years now, but he never engaged in any conversation apart from the scroll delivering and the same old, same old scolds. They talked a bit when they ran into each other at the same bar, but it was rare as Kakashi didn't like to drink at known places and much less engage in conversations. He didn't know much about her. Just the rumours, because everyone knows the rumours about everyone and that's all he had, the he said, she said. Kakashi was a difficult man. An impetuous one. Arrogant, sometimes. Even after Obito's death and life lessons, he still had in him his name and, after all, at the end of the day, end of the life, all ninjas had was their name, their dog tags. They were numbers, soldiers, pawns. Just their names and their glory, nothing else. 

Kakashi knew more about Jiraiya and Orochimaru's as Sannins, but he seemed to forget Tsunade.

All men did. 

Tsunade rose from her seat and grabbed two other bottles and placed them on the table, putting the first bottle and the first cup aside and replacing the latter with two water glasses.

“Pick one.”

Her voice wasn’t harsh nor soft. It was a command, but as rigid as you talk to a bird escaping its cage. Kakashi pointed to the one adorned with blue patterns. She opened the other one.

Men like him don’t understand how it is to women like her to live in this world. It is an ugly world. It is such a wilderness. Every second you’re caught under life and death and not just yours. Your decisions can cost your life or others. It is not just about training, just about being good. It is about knowing. And knowledge doesn’t come in a textbook.

She filled both glasses and sat again. The lift of one eyebrow was all she gave as a stimulus for him to drink.

“She can't go,” He repeated, repeated repeated repeated (as he did in the mirror, convincing himself he had to say it, that the girl needed someone to point that out, that he needed to save her life, that she was useless and weak and he was strong and had to protect her because that’s what he does: protect, because he is so good at it, ain't him?) punctuating the words, with all respect he could put on them. “Lady Hokage." He finished, with a bow and a sip.

The Hokage's eyes were sharp. They were honey coloured, just as Orochimaru's skin was too white like a rice ball and Jiraiya's adornment beneath his eyes were red like pepper. It might look innocent, but it isn't. Tsunade isn't innocent because she was a medic. From time to time, people forgot it, and that was a fatal mistake. 

The same works for Sakura. Her hair was bubblegum, her eyes, mint sweet, but she was as much of an assassin as Kakashi. 

(He was the one who taught her that. Why did he seem to forget that so often?)

“Two questions for you, boy." Tsunade began, finishing filling her class. "One: Why? And two: What makes you think you can order me around?” It was simple and it was like acid corroding wood, not iron. It was faster and the effect was far more devastating.

All the words that left Tsunade's mouth felt like acid to him, bubbling his skin, burning it, cirrhosis full. He wished he had never spoken. But now it was being thrown at his face. 

He was swallowing his words and they were acid.

Tsunade was much more than they all took her for, he himself included. Two sentences and she suffocated him. He always heard the whispers. Voices echoing that he was a man of few words, but they always had great impact. Tsunade said nothing, really nothing, but that was like a punch on the gut. 

(Once, many, many years ago, before Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei, a Mist nin used an acid jutsu that hit him. He was able to escape in one piece, but he had the scar and would always have it. It was a great bubble at his torso, right above his left lung. He never forgot how much it burnt and how long it took to heal. Rin never scolded him for that. She treated that wound with care, as they all felt responsible because he only got hit to save them all. And, right now, Tsunade's words were just as acidic as the one that etched his skin.)

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her eyes, maybe it was the fact that he realised he walked into the Hokage’s office — fuck.

“With all due respect” too late for that, fucker “I apologize for my behavior,” he sighed the slightest and propped himself up properly in the chair “but she can't go.”

She just clicked her tongue.

“Either you suck at arguments or I am missing something.” Folic acid. “Why is that?”

Acetylsalicylic acid.

2/3 of the bottle was gone already. He didn’t notice.

“She won't be able to take it.” She is weak.

“Hum.” Hydrochloridric acid. “What makes you think that?" Nitric acid.

“I was her sensei.” She opened the blue bottle. It was dripping phosphoric acid all over the table. She poured them both. Why was he afraid of drinking he couldn’t tell. Was she drugging him? Why was it affecting so much? Wasn't he supposed to be a brick wall? Bricks don't melt.

Do they?

“I am pretty much aware.” The words behind her cup and down her tongue tasted like acetic acid, the one you use to remove nail polish just like the one she had on her hand. Did Sakura use nail polish at all? 

He drank and it tasted like poison, like snakes. Like hemlock — a poison that came from a flower, it paralyzes you and you stop breathing.

(Many years ahead he would mistake sakura's from hemlocks and think that maybe they mistaken her birth name, cause he could feel that was the death he was facing in between, one deep breath among the other. He couldn’t move away, even when it burned traces amid, constricting, asphyxiating, choking — as he did more than once with an enemy and more than twice with a lover — like a moth is drawn to the flame  and if he had the guts to he’d ask to be buried surrounded by hemlocks, sakuras and fire, ‘cause that was all he felt since that first sip on blue acid on that tower a lifetime ago.)

Kakashi had many things to say about Sakura but when he was faced with the indifference bordering despise of the Hokage it seemed his words glued to his palate. One more sip, one less tooth, one more nail.

“She… She can’t handle this. Not this kind of stuff. She’s not a good ninja.” He said in a hurry, the words fighting to be on top of each other and he was getting drunk and so was she and she was explosive and strong and he was suicidal and careless.

"It is not her first mission as ANBU, Hatake." Those words should end the conversation. He should bow and turn away, thank her for her time, try not to trip over his feet and leave. 

He did none of those. 

"Sakura is weak." He said it again, biting the words out like it was his time to spit venom. 

"You were her teacher."

"I taught her nothing."

"You know you did." 

("The princess."

what

what

"Princess?"

"From fucking Make Out Techniques."

Oh, yes. Yes. He nodded to himself as if he knew what she was talking about. 

He had no idea what she was talking about. 

"What about her?"

"What do you think of her?"

"What do I think of her?" He looked at her expecting an explanation. Something. An explanation on why she was dropping fucks as if they were simple pronouns, on why she was smoking, on she took his book, on why she was asking about characters from his perverted book. 

"Hu" He stopped, considering his answer, giving it a thought. Putting his hand on his chin and looking up. There was a cloud that looked like a snail. It was the Nara kid that liked clouds, right? He could see why. They had a very calming effect. She wouldn't want to know that. But it was a nice cloud. Very nice cloud. It was oddly well shaped and he had to wonder if he was smoking the right cigarettes and how much he had to drink already. Considering the sun, it was pretty early already, but that meant shit to him. He was beginning to feel thirsty, but not yet. (He wasn't there yet.) The cloud was moving and the snail was growing fat. If he pointed at the cloud would she calm down? 

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and she looked like a spoiled child that didn’t get her favourite flavor of ice cream. He wasn’t wrong when he said she couldn’t take the mission.

Sakura had crossed her arms in front of her chest, a foot tapping in the floor, one brow raised, a murderous look on her green eyes. Her eyes weren't a grass green or a leaf of a pine tree or a cactus green. They were a nice green. Nice cloud and nice green. 

They were green like good pot, truth be told. But Kakashi didn’t like pot.

His mind was slurring around irrelevant things. It used to work like that when he was trying not to think about something.

He wanted to be an asshole, but he wasn’t about to tell her he jerked off a thousand times over the years to the princess. Nor that not always it was the princess’ description in his mind — well, mostly, the princess looked like Tsunade and he was forced to admit that when she became the Hokage and despite liking strong women, masturbating to her just seemed wrong to say the least. He changed her hair color, her face features, her body, her voice, based on the women he slept with — as much as he killed that much he fucked as well and, hey, a man has needs. So, yeah, he had a pretty vast repertoire.

That train of thought drove him dangerously to Sakura — he never pictured pink hair with green eyes before and he wasn’t going to. That wouldn’t make him a pervert. That would make him a pedophile and he definitely was a bunch of bad things, but that wasn’t one. If he took pleasure in killing someone, pedophiles were always the top ones. 

Kakashi read a lot and he knew he would eventually come across psychology books that would defend paedophile as a disease and there are plenty of those. He read them and then set them on fire. You can't cover it with such an excuse. Some things are just inexcusable and pedophilia is one of those — Orochimaru was one of these and he could never forgive The Third for his complacency of letting him slip through his fingers. Even among the villagers, some people would deny it and say that he wasn't a pedophile, that he was a fucking disturbed scientist, but after so many years of chase and learning about the guy, he brainwashed children and it was clear they developed Stockholm Syndrome and that his relationship with the children wasn't purely and uniquely "experimental". It would be a privilege to kill him. And Kakashi didn't know whose hands Sakura would run to. He was sure as hell he didn't want her to face his same destiny. Some days, he questioned how far his blind loyalty for the village was worth losing his innocence so young. 

But then again, she was no longer with her arms crossed in front of her or tapping her feet and deciding he wasn’t going to tell her he masturbated a lot to the princess, he just set up on saying “What did you ask again?” and that seemed to be the very, very wrong answer.

He could’ve just said “I like her.” but that wouldn’t be enough.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped just a tiny, tiny bit and then anger filled her. 

He could see Tsunade in her. 

Thank God she didn't have paper clips. 

She did not but take one more drag and smashed the cigarette right beside his head, maybe burning one strand of hair. Poor tree. Poor strand. It was a lemon tree. It was a baby strand.

“You are fucking kidding me.”

He looked down at her, a deep curtain of smoke between them. Kakashi said nothing, just smelt the small hole in the tree and his strands, reclining a bit more in the trunk, another drag and she grew angrier. Fuck that.

"You are impossible." Sakura shook her head, looking beyond surprise "You fucking asshole." 

She knew she shouldn't talk to him like that. He was her superior; a feared and legendary ninja; her former sensei; and a fucking asshole. 

“I am your superior, Sakura.” His tone was hard now, the tone he used on them when they misbehaved. “Treat me like one.” There it was. The pang of hurt. Anger and hurt were friends. She was angry about what she heard someone saying. Now, he had to say and she would leave.

“You’re pissing the shit out of me, Sakura.”

At that, her anger died a little. Kakashi never spoke to them like that. She knew he swore with the magnitude of a drunk gambler — worse than Tsunade, even — but he didn’t talk to them like that. That felt like being an equal, but it also felt painful. For the first time ever, she wished he would just mess with her hair and give her an eye crease.

She would doubt herself later, but she stood her ground.

“What do you think about the princess from Make Out?” Voice hard, chin up, her whole posture said she wasn’t a scared kitten. She was a woman, a kunoichi.

He didn’t believe.

"Well" he started in a really bored tone, as if explaining to Naruto why he couldn't eat ramen three times a day "I think she is pretty much amazing." There. Easy to understand. In a few words. Just like he did with Naruto.

"She is pretty much amazing?" Her tone, on the other hand, was like she was questioning Naruto some stupid answer he gave to a serious question. 

"Yep." In a tone like he was ending a conversation with Naruto when he started to talk too much and he wasn't even listening anymore.

"She's a damsel in distress." It was an affirmation as if she was telling Naruto he wouldn't get a date with her, for the twelfth time a day — not so angry, but really impatient.

"That's the idea." He said in a tone as if he was telling Sasuke to fuck off and drop being an insufferable asshole — bored and cutting short the conversation. 

She tried to take the book back when he opened it in some random page to tune her off.

She buffed. 

"The princess needs Taiko to protect her." As if she was retort the Yamanaka girl when she said something that made Sakura livid, but she didn't want to show, so just called her Pig — bloody angry, but trying to keep cool to avoid beating the crap out of anything in her path.

"It is the plot." As if telling Naruto some really obvious thing, like 'ninja need stealth to survive, not just jump in making orange shadows' — bored and annoyed.

"But he falls in love with her because she is a strong woman and not just a hot piece of meat." As if defying something someone said sometime somewhere that it is dumb and she was right when she did indeed actually was right — arrogant with growing impatience.

"Did you read it?" As if surprised when Sasuke managed to say a full sentence instead of just 'hun' — with disbelief and distrust.

"Yes, I did read it." As if yelling at him because he was late.

"You're underage." As if reprimanding Sasuke for thinking he was the best shit ever lived — matter of fact, obviously "It has a clear "18 warning" on the cover." 

"Do I look like I care?" As if telling Naruto for the first time she wouldn't go in a date with him — very, very, very pissed. Very. 

"Ok, but you should." As if giving a lecture about them being unable to catch a cat — bored, faking disappointment, stating it as the final word.

She just waved him off — yeah, she did look like Tsunade if you tip your head to the right and place sake in front of her. 

"You know very damn well we stop being considered children under aged the moment we graduate the Academy." She said as if Inner Sakura took control — on the borderline to angry yelling "I am not a child anymore. I haven't been one since I saw Sasuke " the word hurts "bleeding all over in your genjutsu, the very first day."

The very first day, where Sakura was the weakest. All he had to do was cast an idiot image and she fainted. She was just a girl playing ninja — didn't she realize that? Girl's play wouldn't keep her alive out there. Strong will — the Will of Fire wouldn't. The Will of Fire is a pretty nice speech, but it doesn't save you if you are incompetent. And that's what Sakura was all that time. 

He could blame himself, but he could also blame her.

Kakashi didn't know what to say. He still didn't know where she was trying to go. 

"Oh, the very first day, you say? With bells, no lunch, tree trunks and stepping on Sasuke's face, throwing Naruto high into the sky and you passing out just because you saw a face Sasuke with some cuts?" He scratched his chin. A rubble was starting to grow and God bless masks. "I remember it like it was yesterday." Kakashi looked condescending at her, a bloody smirk on his face. 

"Iam goingto slapyourface out ofyourface." She gritted out of her teeth. 

He smiled a bit more. 

"Come again?"

"It was — it wasn't yesterday. It was years ago, before they left."

"You can only use the expression "years ago" when you mean it."

Kakashi was fucking with her and serious at the same time. One and a half, almost two years ago is not enough. Even with the life they ended up living.

"I am not a child! I am not stupid, I-am-on-a-diet Sakura, I am not Sasuke's puppy and lackey for him to kick me for years, I am not some brainless fucked up concept! And I actually can handle fucked up missions."

"That's what all this was about?" All the yelling and life lessons? He could feel his body tense up and he sure as fuck wanted to punch a whole in the ground. In about two hours he had to leave to assassinate and retreat unimaginably important documents to the security of the whole Fire Nation and he was trapped with this? He was making her pay for his meals for the next ten years. "Your missions? Your ANBU missions you are clearly not ready to take? I am not signing the papers for your admission, Sakura."

"And why not?" 

Almost a month before leaving, Sasuke and Naruto posed him the same question, the latter precisely nine days before leaving with Jiraiya: why can't I be in Anbu? Why am I not suited for it? What is lacking for me to be suited for it, then? 

Kakashi said no to both, but for different reasons, just as he would say it to Sasuke. Naruto didn't have the control over the Nine Tails and even though it was very effective against enemies when the time came, it was also too dangerous around comrades. And would be even more dangerous around people Naruto barely knew for his feelings to settle down and distinguish.

Sasuke wouldn't come in because the darkness would overcome him and he already had too much of it in him, he didn't need more. He didn't need all the dirty jobs regular shinobi couldn't do handled to him so he could be swallowed more deeply into the void Kakashi knew too well.

As for Sakura it was pretty simple: she was too weak and inadequate. Sakura wouldn't last a day. She would quiver and beg to be sent back after her first mission, it didn't even need to be a tough one. 

"For starters, you are a spoiled little brat that's just as bad as Sasuke for thinking the whole world revolves around you. And don't even try to begin criticizing Naruto because he might be loud and Hokage repetitive, but why do you even want to get into ANBU? Respect, just as Naruto? Power, just as Sasuke?"

Sakura was shaking, he could see that. He was called a spoiled little brat too and it was by Minato-sensei. The cut that ripped off his eye was a massage compared to that. But he needed to hear that. Sakura needs to hear this.

"And that's all?"

Kakashi also learnt through the years two methods to avoid crying.

One is producing saliva. Lots of it. Keep watering your mouth and try to focus on it. Just keep doing it and control your breath. Try not to listen so intently to what people are saying. It helps. 

The second is one that sometimes is more effective. Grit your teeth. With all the strength you have. Just do it. Creak them, really, really hard. It's a really bad advice, but sometimes you just can't cry so you will have to bite your own teeth and breathe. Focus on your lungs and teeth. Crack them, but fuck don't break them. If you feel you are taking this too long, stop it. 

But these are two methods that work and Kakashi didn't know which Sakura was using. He was the one that taught her that, after all. 

"You couldn't bear it."

"Wouldn't I? What do you even know about me?"

"I kn—"

"You know shit. Stop that! That's what it is all about. How pissed off and angry and, and, and offended — 'cause it is just Team Seven all over again: Sakura can't take care of herself so let just keep her in shadows 'cause we have to be a four people team, otherwise she wouldn't even be here!" She yelled the last words and took a breath. Those words alone could swallow them both as a hurricane, a seaquake and bury them alive. "Do you remember when you taught us tree walking?" Her voice was quieter now, softer, but her eyes were a whole field devastated by war. 

"Of course." His voice was softer and he dropped all his demeanours. You can't hurt what is already bleeding. There is no point in sharpening an open wound. Is there?

"I managed on my first try. I know how rare it is, I know how much control that demands. I checked later, you know. In our generation, after the Third War, only five people did it before me." you were one of them "And what did you say to me?" Her voice was minimal, a whisper. He just shook his head. "You said nothing." 

She let it weigh on the air. A gush of wind passed over them and her hair splashed over her eyes as did his. 

She was a nice colorful picture, full of hurt and splashed in the background, over people's eyes, but always shoved out of the way. Always there, but not there enough. Sakura was background noise. And the worst was that she knew. 

"You said nothing. You just used it to rub it at the boy's faces, to make them more competitive. Did you even notice that I did on my first try or you were just expecting something to throw at them? Because you were there for them, not for me."

"That's not how it was." He blinked, serious, trying to convince her —convince himself. 

"Yes, Kakashi—" a brief pause, filling her lungs with air "—sensei. It was literally like that. I was always staring at the back of your three and I felt useless and disregarded. But no more. Man, no more at all. I can take care of myself."

"Stop lying to yourself, Sakura."

Her eyes flared in anger and she prep her fist back, filled with all the chakra she could master at it, feeling all of it running to her joints, white knuckles and aimed to his face. She was sure to break something. 

The tree fell, even though she punched at one of the highest branches. Her strength wasn't up to that level so she was the silver line at the bottle of the tree — Kakashi's raikiri making fun of her. He cut the bottle of the tree to make it fall, even though, when she looked closely, she could see she ripped a bit of its roots. She smiled. She wasn't weak anymore. Not anymore. 

Kakashi was gone in a flash of light. She was breathing as hard as a bull, dangerous as if he was provoking her with a red flag.

(Bulls are colorblind. It isn't the color that makes them attack. They are hurt and go to the arena bleeding. Bulls aren't sanguine creatures alone. They won't attack you on the street if you have a red shirt — as Sakura always has. It isn't how cartoons show to entertain. For a bull to be wild and dangerous enough to make it a show, they are hurt very, very badly, because the man has no limits. 

So Sakura wasn't angry just because or due Kakashi's words. It was way deeper than just that. Bulls are colorblind and so is Sakura's anger.)

As the tree fell, his chakra vanished. She didn't care if he was under the ground, she was going to break it anyway.

Sakura charged her fist again before even trying to sense him but he beat her to it. His fingers closed on her wrist and she barely had the time to turn around before he got her arm behind her back and shoved her face down the ground, yet, it seemed that his face was just an inch away from hers — his breath trickling her skin.

She was one knee at the ground, the other supporting her weight the best she could without falling, the fallen tree beside them, one wrist trapped in Kakashi's hand, the other stuck between her knee and her stomach, her mouth about to taste dirt and grass. He was crouching, just half of his body turned to her — just his left side. She could only see cloth. 

His breath was just as hot as her cheeks, but his fingers were just as cold as her chakra. She could feel the grass tickle her skin and smell the earth under her face, everything around them mute and she recognized a genjutsu when she saw one.

"Why did you cast a genjutsu?" She didn't have to speak over a whisper, trying not to snap, her voice was breathy and shaky. Her lungs were constricted and he could feel her heart under his fingers. It was rushing. 

She was facing forwards and Kakashi had only half of his body turned to her. She couldn't see his face. Nothing. His eyes could be turned anywhere. He could be ignoring her as she was there, right in front of him, as he did so many times. 

She tried to jerk free only for him to hold tighter.

"Why cast genjutsu?" It was over a whisper now, angrier. He didn't give anything away. His chakra wasn't flaring, his breath wasn't shaking. He just moved out of the way of her punch and was now holding her by the wrist the same way he held and threw the boys by the rooftop.

He voiced the resemblance.

"When the boys aimed at each other all I had to do was hold them by the wrist" he tightened the grip to show it "and threw each in separate ways. They were going to kill you." His voice was as detached as ever. He could be with his book open for all that matters. 

"I know." 

"You always had the ability to genjutsu." She thought about thanking him, just mentally, but he amended "That doesn't make you good at it."

"You —"

Red red redredred 

Her kipao was red. She always wore it that way. She liked that color, it is a pretty color. It speaks volumes by itself. It is a color that is alive. It is pretty much like her. She always wore her heart on her sleeve. 

All she could see was red now.

She never hated one color so much.

Kakashi was speaking again, right into her brain and there was no difference between whisper or scream. 

"So you think you can undergo assassination, torture, killing children, killing any and everything that gets in your way, innocent civilian, betraying the others, mistaken their loyalties, being tortured, deprived of food, water, daylight, friends, your own identity, knowing that at any moment you may have to turn around and kill the one that is sleeping right next to you?"

She didn't recognize that tone in his voice. It wasn't detached, it was closer to the way he spoke to then when he was to teach a suffering boring lesson, but not quite there. It was not his teaching voice, annoyed but at least trying a tiny, minuscule bit drop of faux patience because he was talking to people that didn't know how to walk on water when he was used to giving orders on how many they would kill in one blow. But it was not his deadpan voice. 

It was somehow close to an order, but soft, like the first time he told her she had to kill that woman. She cried — and when he sighed and went to kill the woman himself, the whole world screaming "Sakura is weak", she drove the kunai into an artery at woman's jugular in the middle of her desperation to be useful, to be a ninja, washing both of them in blood.

Sakura had her first panic attack that day. 

She stayed glued to the ground on her knees in front of the woman, blood thick even in her eyelids, trying not to blink too much because she was afraid her eyes could turn red. Kakashi touched her shoulder and she tried to attack him with the kunai that was still embedded at the woman's neck (she never learnt her name. It was easier that way) and failed. The kunai was stuck and she would drop the woman's body on top of hers if Kakashi wasn't fast enough to put her up and out of the way of the corpse. She was twelve. 

("Why?" she asked him when they reached a river. She wouldn't make it all the way back that bathed in blood. "Why did you make me do it?" At first he didn't answer and his gaze was far, far away, like it always was. "Why did I have to do it?"

"Because you had to. As a ninja, you had to." His tone was final with his one eye staring at her. He gave her room for more questioning. But she would never know the answers and she never asked them.)

She had so many more questions, but when she looked around herself and saw the clean water turn dark, all she could see was the woman's body. That was the only time she knew she cried and Kakashi didn't take her as weak. She entered the river fully clothed. He asked her where her clothes were and he carefully folded them besides the river with a soft towel that wasn't hers. Sakura cried until her body began to shiver from the cold air and her fingers were crunched. When she came back to the camp, Kakashi put real shrimps in her can and said nothing. She said nothing in return, but she understood. They never talked about it.

He had that tone again, but it wasn't that nameless body that she was going to kill in her mission. She had all the names in her scroll.

"You are a very emotional person." And that is a flaw, it goes without saying. "Have you pictured you might have to sleep with someone? Months of being undercover, growing attached, fucking him and then killing him, cold and dirty, as you take a bandaid off. Seduction isn't about sucking lollipops and looking naughty. Is much more raw." She felt a shiver running down her spine. Her skin was still burning and so was his breath, but every syllable made the air hit her cold. His hand was still holding her wrist with the same strength. He gave away nothing and she knew she gave away everything. "You are not suited for a Black Ops, Sakura".

With her head in such a bad angle she could feel all the discomfort of the position again and looking into his eyes was the same as being blinded by the sunlight — you can't see anything because you see too much.

She was too young indeed. 

The genjutsu was dispelled.

He let go of her and she stayed at the ground for a few moments, hating the motherfucking grass and red and Kakashi and genjutsu and the fact he knew fucking nothing, but thought he did because he did just as everyone: looked past her, instead of at her.

Standing, she looked at Kakashi, with his head a bit tilted to the side (like a dog) he thought she was going to throw a tree at his face or something. He was expecting yelling and more fucks coming his way. Or maybe that she'd run away. 

He just wanted to finish his book — and jerk off in the shower thinking about anything but her, not just because it was wrong supposedly but because.

She sighed, sounding impatient but with an afrontous look — like she knew something he didn't. 

"Well, sensei," Her voice didn't waver, but it would as soon as she left. She came back at him with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and a smug look on her face "you are right."

He was right, as in really right about it and she couldn't handle it? It was that easy go convince her, about her own incompetence, just by putting raw the true nature of the mission — plain as the daylight and cold as mornings when the sun doesn't shine. It was their life, after all. And he was right.

"You're right." Her smile grew wider, her legs began to shake. "That is precisely the job description and I knew the nature of it when I applied for it. Also, that is precisely what I have to do and probably how I'll feel." Stupid girl. "But you are also wrong." He was leaning against a tree opposite to her where she was standing in the middle of the clearing, now full of sound. When she spoke, her voice was cold and she sounded so much like Haku he regretted deep down letting her listen to him talk. That didn't fit the girl he knew.

(But did he ever know her at all? Do shinobi know each other? They're always so buried trying to keep away from each other the burden of their traumas that you will never know someone truly, you will never understand their nightmares or what makes them sweat cold at night. Their hands will shake now and there and you won't know what to say because they don't tell you what you need to know and you do the same. Shinobi never truly know each other. He didn't know Sakura and she didn't know him. It was the façade that was broken and he should've known that.)

"I won't budge and cry my way home nor let guilt swallow me, not really, 'cause that is what we do for a living. We kill to protect our village, we kill to protect each other. This feeling overcomes all the others." 

Her smile was dead, pink hair falling at her left side of her face, her words cold. From his place Kakashi didn't budge, didn't blink. Didn't know particularly what to do with her words.

"You taught me that, Kakashi-sensei. You taught me about loyalty and bravery."

"I hated teaching."

"We all know."

His words weren't mean and neither were hers. Just the truth.

"To teach someone how to be a ninja is to teach how to be a bad person." 

With that, she sent daggers to his chest. But he didn't believe she actually believed what she was saying.

"I didn't teach you that." He said too fast to be nonchalant. He didn't care. 

That was the sweet, annoying, love sick, cry baby Sakura. The Sakura that did nothing but make a fool of herself for a boy that only treated her like garbage and she kept coming back like an obedient pup. The Sakura that wouldn't kill a chicken, a bird, a squirrel to survive, 'cause she hadn't that in her, in her heart.

The Sakura that actually killed a woman.

(Just like Naruto cried when he killed a bunny he cried when he killed for the first time. He then lifted his chin and moved on. Sasuke didn't cry — in front of them. Killing isn't the same as hurting or incapacitating someone. Nothing can prepare you for that.)

to be a ninja is to be a bad person)

Tsunade held her cup, closing one of her eyes, aiming. When she threw it, he dodged. When she threw a paper clip, he caught it with his hand. When she threw a small book — about orange cakes — he caught again and placed it on the table. Bottle — dodge; scroll — catch; fucking kunai with a paper bomb (not a strong one, at least) — dodge (poor wall); case — catch; ink case — catch; when it came to the chair, he had to raise and his chair took the blow and now there was two broken chairs. However, she laughed.

Turning her back to him and leaning on her desk, she rolled the cup on her hand as she spoke and she was all lysergic acid — (6aR,9R) — N,N — diethyl — 7 —methyl — 4,6,6a,7,8,9 — hexahydro indolo — [4,3-fg] quinoline — 9-carboxamide¹.

“During the Second War you were a toddler, too small to comprehend, but already too smart to miss the seriousness of the magnitude unraveling under your small feet. Do you remember your mother?” And that was it.

Fluoroantimonic.

The strongest of acids. It’s a mix whose acidity surpasses the highest found in nature: 100% sulfuric acid. The mixture of hydrofluoric and antimony pentafluoride is considered the strongest among superacids and was created to react with materials that others cannot handle. However it is not able to corrode everything - since corrosion does not depend on strength. One thing, nevertheless, is certain:

when corrosion occurs, the damage is irreversible.

He filled his cup to the top, spilling drops – fucking melt the fucking table he doesn’t care – and the alcohol burned him and he wished his curp burned her as well.

“No.”

“Hum.”

And they fell in silence.

It was almost midday.

Men like Kakashi don’t know what to do with women in power and Tsunade doesn’t know what to do with an orphan traumatized by war that by a miracle didn’t turn into a sociopath. Or she knew exactly what she was doing. Maybe it was a gamble. Maybe she was drunk.

“Enemies have a tendency to name the surviving, like it is their duty, like they can, like they own it. Hanzo named me, Jiraiya and Orochimaru (oxyuranus microlepidotus; bitter, bitter) the Three Legendary Sannin. And that’s how the world sees us. Legendary. With our summons, with our power, with our past. The "Flee on sight" on us. We’re legends!” Despite the cheer the word cared, the seven letters were sour like a dying lemon over your grilled fish.

Tsunade turned around to look at him and he didn’t know if that was a tear on her eye or the sun making myriads. She was drunk and so was he. She pointed with her chin and he grabbed another bottle, a smaller one. With her chin, again, she invited him to sit aside her on the table, looking at the city. 

Kakashi filled his glass and she said in a hurry 'drink it up, drink it up, boy' and he did. As soon as he finished, she threw both cups out of the window, the glass shattering the beautiful view. The remains of liquid were not enough to form any rainbow, but undoing is a form of breeding and the splintered, shattered pane window on the carpet looked more like melody than acid, for once.

“I didn’t want to be legendary. Nor Hokage. I wanted to be a drunk gambler.” She took a swing from the bottle and passed it to him. “Your father deserved his title, however.” Tsunade was facing her grandfather, the God of Shinobi and his brother, the Creator; Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Professor; the Yellow Flash of the Leaf, his sensei; and herself. “You know, he was adored. I admired him. So much. He was up to be Hokage.” At that, Kakashi swallowed harder, the beverage was stronger, the subject was hell, her words sting in various parts he didn’t know could sting. "He was greater than the three of us, that's the truth and everybody knows. It is just… spiteful they don't talk about it. Seeing him in battle was a sight, one that scarred most. He made it look like art, he made it look easy. In his hands, it looked like justice."

Wide-eyed, he didn’t turn to her, but stared to her face in the mountain, as if the stone could give him the answer to all the question he had yet to formulate. “The White Fang of the Leaf.”

She didn’t say anything else. They just kept exchanging the bottle, until it was over. 

They were drunk. 

Her cheeks were rose and so was his. Both were tipsy and they had the whole day to face. Two remaining chairs in the office, opposite to one another, and the lighter was thrown between them, the light smoke of the cigarette dancing in the sun.

“Do you know how old Sakura is now?”

He didn’t mind the change of the subject.

“No.”

“There is a bottle at your right, a small one, the liquid is a bit brownish. It’s yours. At your left there’s another one. Hand me that.”

They had no cups anymore and they were drunk.

The alcohol still worked.

“She’s not fifteen.” He didn’t look up. He knew what she meant. At fifteen you were an ANBU captain. You killed more cruelly then I got drunk in the past two years as Hokage. “She can fucking handle this." Tsunade took a long swing, knowing what his next reaction would be. "She did already.” 

He barely lifted his head when he asked, but his voice was strained — he was angry.

“How did I never know about it?”

“Classified.”

“A mission like this classified?”

“You’re ANBU, brat, not the King of the fucking World.”

"I am no longer an ANBU captain, Lady Tsunade." It was hard to swallow. He'd seen her ANBU mask already and her paychecks, but not that. "I am the Lieutenant. These kinds of things dopass through my jurisdiction."

"No, they don't. If I don't want to, they don't. You know she's been placed in T&I."

"Which is and always has been my jurisdiction and I am the captain of most missions of this division."

"She doesn't go for captains, Hatake. She works solo when it comes to this."

Just as he did.

He hated being placed into teams and teams hated to be placed with him or under his command. He never ceased to be the cold blooded murdered he gained his fame for and some people just couldn't deal with it. Some people just couldn't place his stained books properly with the eye creases. 

Kakashi liked working alone. He always did, but he remembered when he had to take Naruto with him to an ANBU mission — without Sakura. 

It was in the middle of his training. He just popped out of thin air, just like he liked to. Jiraiya rolled his eyes, but Naruto still thought he was amazing, so it was worth it. He needed them to help him in an assassination. To Jiraiya's utter and complete surprise Naruto just said "Yes, sure. Is it infiltration or quicker?" the very same tone someone asks if they could help to cut some hortaliças from their garden. Naruto was used by now to having his hands dirtied with blood and just Sasuke too — as well as Sakura, but for some reason he managed to forget that. 

Their mission was a success. It was pretty simple, he just needed to update the Hokage about Naruto's development and if it was being fruitful. It was. Naruto's Rasengan was much more accurate and he wasn't the dumb piece of orange shit he was when they left. He was quick not only to follow orders without running to the front lines just to prove he was good, but coming up with small strategies along the way. He wasn't the loud brat anymore. Well, he was still and probably would always be. People might change, but their essence will never. But he was "less worse" because a "bit better". His obsession with Sasuke was just as alive as the three of them and trying to persuade him was the same as trying to convince him that ramen was shit.

But on all the occasions, he forgot about Sakura. Looking back, he managed to forget about her somehow. 

When she asked to be in ANBU he knew they would decline her. 

And they did. 

Just for a fucking month later take her in. 

Team 7 became a kind of specialized assassination group. They killed much more than any of the Rookie 9. Maybe — but just maybe — Kurenai's team had some resemblance, but they acted more in trailing the victims than actually killing them; either way, their hands were dirty even though Kurenai always closed their eyes, specially Hinata's. Perhaps, that's why she was so awkward around people. Everyone has their own way to cope and hers was denied to the highest level. 

Kakashi's team, on the other hand, learnt (after panic attacks, missions they put themselves on the suicide brink, quietly crying during the night) to finally facing that's what's being a shinobi is about. 

The Academy doesn't teach you that.

And Sakura proved to be the best of them all. She learnt to swallow the bile and carry own, even when she cried and threw up when she thought no one was seeing. But that's why she could never be a Black Ops. You don't have time for it. You don't have enough room for feelings like it.

But they took her in despite all that.

She was working developing poisons and any kind of chemical solution to be used in interrogations. She was still the temp in the scheme and Kakashi stopped paying attention to her. He had a lot in his hands and every night when he finally got home he had too much blood to wash out his uniform and body to think about Sakura and if she was taking care of herself or if she got the Naruto Syndrome and decided she could take on the world and died. 

Somehow, being a high level authority, he knew she was still there. The name of the deceased always went to him, so he would designate the right ones to deliver the news to the families. You can't send Naruto or Sasuke to this kind of shit. 

It continued this way, then. Sakura was alive, he was always almost dead and he always had much more dangerous missions to run, attend, order or throw himself into. Sakura was at her usual place performing her role of background noise.

One of these days her name could come to him as deceased and he wouldn't even know when or how it happened and why he let it happen.

He just drank. 

That he knew, that he was used to. That was no surprise. Getting drunk to swallow feelings and worries he knew how to do. But to understand Tsunade sent Sakura on this type of mission, he didn't know how. So he just drank.

Fuck Sakura then. Let her sleep with whoever the Hokage wanted her to. He had no obligation there.

Tsunade’s words weren’t acid anymore. It was just rage, but it wasn’t the stupid explosive rage everyone took her for — an unstable woman. No. She was fucking cruel when she wanted to be.

And she was succeeding.

The woman was angry at him, furious, maybe, because even after years he marched in trying to tell her what to do and demanding to know what happened, when happened and why, as if it still was his to tell. But, as once he told Iruka that Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura weren't his students anymore, but his, Kakashi's, now Sakura was Tsunade's. He had no business there.

He knew what she was going to say next before she lifted her eyes to bore into his that were already staring into hers – not defiance, no boredom, no indifference. He wasn’t an open book, but somehow a loyal soldier, but still one that stood his ground, even if it cost his head. He still cared about Sakura. He promised everything would be okay and he wasn’t about to let some dirt old fuck lay his hands on her just for the sake of the mission.

People die because of blindness of following strict rules. And she wasn’t dying either getting hurt. She was his responsibility.

(you are forever responsible for what you have tamed, said a little prince)

“No.”

“No what?” Tsunade was acidic no more. She was corrosive at the moment.

Corrosive substances pose serious risks to people's health, including damage to the eyes, skin and other tissues, and inhalation or ingestion may affect the respiratory tract or gastrointestinal tract.                                                                                                                                                                                      Chemical burns are often fatal.

One of the methods that can be applied in the field to reduce hazards is to neutralize the spilled product. This technique consists of adding a chemical – drink the pain away, Kakashi.

“Sakura.”

“Sakura what, Hatake?!”

She lost it.

They say pregnant women “glow” (Sakura later told him that the idea that pregnant women experience a “pregnancy glow” is real. The “glow” comes from an increase in blood volume, estrogen, and progesterone. More blood flow to the skin gives a rosy appearance, and makes the face appear fuller as well. It still freaks the shit out of him), but he was sure Tsunade was glowing on pure rage resonating out of her.

“Sakura cannot go. I already lost too many to allow —” He was cut short when the bottle reached the wall milliliters behind where his face was and he was kinda sure that it could be fatal.

“You can not allow it? You, Hatake? You never gave a fuck about her!”

“That’s n–”

“Shut your fucking mouth before I rip off your tongue!” She threw the chair out of the window.

A woman with a brown hair and a pig started opening the door and – “Shizune, get the fuck outta here!” – was welcome with this. “Hatake, you… you… You piece of shit! You march into my office to order me to cut off a mission because you think you can, uh?” A vein on her forehead was pulsing. She was a warrior. “You are a fucking legendary battlefield asshole, jack head with your nicknames, but guess the fuck what? I am your boss, your HOKAGE and if I fucking tell you to jump the only thing you say is h o w – h i g h.”

She was pacing the office, throwing the things off of her table and she looked like a puma concolor in a human body, in all its rage for losing its prey — losing its job for the neighbor next door and deciding to tear some of the wildlife, furniture to ease the adrenaline. One wrong step and you’re the next. 

The thing is, Kakashi wasn’t afraid of dying.

“Where were you?” He said, not in his bored, detached tone, but full of brazenness.

“What?” A higher pitch. Mortal feline, pray not noticing boundaries.

“Where were you when Naruto needed you?” The prey caught the eye of the predator and decided to face it. Sometimes, lions think they can kill any mammal they see; what they don't see is that sometimes the mammal can be a gnu and it killed Mufasa, didn't it?

“How dare you—” 

“I bet my lung, kidneys, my fucking whole life you knew how he was." Kakashi stepped on the glass on the floor, shattering it, like teeth crackling, nails that scratch the blackboard. "Everyone knew.” He is your blood, he should've said.

Her brain was screaming, tearing him aparting, but she lost her voice. She wanted to kill him, but he was saving her the trouble and killing them both in one blow.

Every word was true and that hurt her to a deeper level. It was like throwing a bucket of blood to her face a few years ago: it terrified her.

“You just said: you wanted to be a drunk gambler. Where the fuck were you?”

“I am your Hok—”

“My Hokage, yeah, I got that part the day you came into the village.” He bowed, mocking, insane. “It doesn’t take the burden out of your shoulders. Nor Jiraiya’s. Neither from Hiruzen.”

“You can’t call him like that, you twisted fuck ass dick —” 

“I FUCKING CAN! I WAS THE ONE HERE! The one that saw him grow up alone and miserable, the parents never letting their kids even look at him. And the “God of Shinobi”, the Professor, your sensei — he thought you both right, uh, Tsunade? — never let me even talk to the kid. I did it anyway because he was a child and all of you let them all treat him be treated like a monster. You washed your hands and walked away. All of you. You ran –”

His breath was cut short from his lungs.

Tsunade was known for her inhuman strength, for her temperament, drinking habit and gambling addiction. She was showing none of those at that moment. She didn’t punch him through the wall. She didn’t throw a chair or a table in his direction. Her face was flushed and her pigtails were loose, some of her hair sticking to her temple, her breath hasty, her eyes hatched, her anger in tears — her five fingers imprinted in his cheek.

She slapped him across the cheek instead of doing all she usually would do. That meant she wasn’t acid anymore. It would sting and bruise, but it wouldn’t kill. Dying isn’t always a punition. She knew it way too well when her hands were covered in blood, but hearts were no longer bumping it.)

She hit a black spot that hurt like hell, he did the same. They were both in dangerous territory, but she had the upper hand.

His cheek burned like the sun touched it for too long, however he couldn’t help but smile.

“You never ever again dare to talk to me like that, you piece of shit of a brat.” Her words were low, but her pupils were dilated and he tasted the tears in her voice. They both knew he was right. She left Naruto.

Even being much shorter her eyes were even with his, honey dripping on still, sweetened much to the point of nauseating.

“You know you can kill me, but it won’t cease to be true.” He could taste the blood on his mouth already. She grabbed him by his shirt and leveled their faces.

“You know nothing, boy.”

Her grip was much too strong and the day wasn’t playing as it should. He never thought he would end up in this position, almost kneeling to be on her eye level after yelling on her face how much she failed of one the purest person he ever crossed paths with and left him to rot in misery. He never thought he’d voice it, much less to face, much less today, much less on Sakura’s behavior.

The day seemed to pass and a whole year seemed to grow while their eyes locked in one another before she let him go – he kept his eyes down and she kept her mouth full. They didn’t move. He grabbed his bottle and finished its content and so did she. They froze in space, minds too far to share. If time really passed they didn’t notice and they didn’t care. Why be in such a hurry if the destiny is death?

His mouth was dry when he gathered his thoughts and tried for the very last time. He didn’t know why he was still trying. If it was really worth it.

“Sakur—” 

“Your father, Hatake.” A cannonball, straight to his guts. The alcohol burned all his organs. “He was something.” shut up. “He would’ve been…” Her voice seemed to care affection and longing. Shut up. “But, the sad part is about your... mother” Kakashi’s grip on the bottle made it shatter, but if she heard the glass exploding she didn’t give a fuck as she didn’t turn around. Shut up. “It’s a pity you don’t remember your mother, though. She was much like Sakura.” Shut up, shut it shut it shut it just shut it

“Shut up” Was it a whisper or not, he didn’t care anymore. You can’t poke someone with hot iron and not expect them to hiss.

(In the years to come, Kakashi's habits had him out of his mind as a coping mechanism. It usually leaded to slaughters, hours or days in a roll he couldn't remember what he did, where or why, it had him hallucinating and he knew that day by day he was putting another pin in the coffin of his mind — but his mouth was dry, he was thirsty and it was too little, too late to stop him. Kakashi was a train wreck, but he wouldn't survive if he didn't. It was the last refuge his mind found for him to escape when it hurt too much. And that's where he was now.)

The vixen (he was seeing double) turned around, glee and mischief (she was concerned) in her eyes, as if his pain was a parade (no, Kakashi). “What?” her voice was mocking him (she wasn't).²

“Don’t talk about her.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

“I am trying to explain to you why Sakura can and should go –”

“If that’s your fucking brilliance than you’re just making it all worse.”

She showed her backstory, then. Tsunade slapped her hand so hard in the table it crashed in multiple parts, bringing it all to the floor.

“How the fuck” one step closer “dare you” two steps closer “keep talking to me” three steps closer “like that?” and she was almost in his personal space.

He was snarling.

This was a lost battle and he lost his mind long ago.

“I fucking know how and where she died” one step closer “and you are trying to convince me” two steps closer “that it’s save for Sakura to go and face” into her personal space “the same destiny?”

He was doomed. This is Armageddon.

Kakashi could swear the Slug Princess opened her mouth to speak about his father again and he was pretty sure he was about to yell to her never to talk about him ever again, but her fist met some part of him and the last thing he saw was a trait of blue sky with a gray cloud and soft tears of rain.

seven years later

May 3034, 5 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"Oi? Hey... You awake?" 

She didn't even flinch. Her breath was even and her face was peaceful. The night was clear, there were almost no clouds in the sky, making it look more of a deep ocean blue than navy blue. 

"Sometimes" He began, speaking no louder than a whisper, not sure if to himself or if to her. He was running his fingers through her hair, just the way she liked, from her first memories of when she was a child and to ease panic attacks and he just liked to run his fingers through her hair ignorant to all the meaning behind it — Sakura never told him —, an unconscious simple that would thank her for all she did for him, for them "about those who are gone. I don't know whom, precisely, I am thinking about, some days. I just think of them. When I was much younger, my father told me that all the stars in the sky were the souls of the ones that died for us. I was sad because so many died, but today, looking outside, they are resting somewhere. But, I don't think about them in a sad way. Well, it is always sad, but you understand."

Actually, she didn't, because she was sleeping. He almost thought he could be losing his mind, talking to someone that wasn't listening. But she was just asleep and not dead, and that was such a development. 

"As a doctor, you know that we bury shallow people. The organs are removed, the fat, everything. They're just" he gestured with his big arms, trying not to move her so much, as she was laying in her bicep and he didn't want to knock anything and scare Hinata that was on watch (the same way Hinata never moved too much when Sakura was sleeping on her bicep and Sakura would do the same. It was the small things, really), sighing because he couldn't find the word that would describe so perfectly to her what the people were. "huge empty potato sacks. They're even all tied up, lines seizing their mouths shut and their chests, sewn. We bury just a shallow vessel of those we love. I didn't know it when I was just a chit, when I buried my mother and my father."

The night was silent, just an owl howling and a dog barking. The boys were sleeping in the living room. He wondered if they could hear him.

"I don't remember my mother's funeral, actually. And I've never found her name at the cemetery to pay her a visit. There are just so many graves there that someday I think we will run out of space. Run out of space to bury ours. I can't even — as a Hokage, I could send them to turn the cemetery upside down to find her, so I could give her a proper goodbye — a proper hello. All I remember of her is her hair. It was as soft as yours, but it wasn't pink." He buried his face in his hand. "I guess. I don't remember."

He tried to read, but he didn't want to read about romance and sex — they were at enemy territory and anywhere could be their deathbed. And he didn't want to read Jiraiya's words, as every time he read, a place inside him reminded him there would never be a new edition. Jiraiya was dead. 

Kakashi needed a distraction, but that wasn't it. 

He counted all the freckles Sakura had in her face (twenty three and that one that looked like a star at the bridge of her nose). He ran for the twentieth time the new Intel they got just a couple hours back and kept making mental notes. He kept checking the place for enemy chakra approaching and that probably was extremely rude to Hinata. Hinata — that saved their lives two days ago. 

They became sloppy. Kakashi was used to fighting with numb limbs and so was Sakura, but when it turned out to be 20 against 2 they asked for any God for forgiveness of their sins and launched to their certain death. There was so much fire. Sakura grew to hate fire — how bright it is, how it can locate you from miles away, how it is too hot even when you are freezing, how it takes too long to scar, how it hurts. She hated "The Will of Fire". It was just psychological bullshit for you to die thinking you did something for a greater good. You die smiling, but you didn't save anything nor anyone. 

Kakashi was throwing and roaring the sky with lightning, ready to finally unleash his triumph card when the Demon Eagle, the once shy and stuttering Hinata appeared and the three of them worked in perfect unison. 

When the enemy was dead, they retrieved the Intel and the bitches knew too much — and now, Hinata knew too much, but she didn't react with any kind of shock or surprise, even if it was somehow old news. She just smiled and patted Sakura's cheek and smiled at him. 

(Hinata's hair was so long now it hit her rear, but she never tied it. She didn't have a fringe anymore so her sister, Hanabi looked a lot like her now. Hinata was wearing the Anbu gear just as Sakura was before the past days fights ended up fucking all they had for clothes. It was raining the whole time, so it was hard to say when Hinata turned around to look at them, a minimal smile on her face, before putting on her mask, if she was crying or if it was just the rain.

Maybe it is something inherited by Itachi. Let the rain wash away any trait of weaknesses or the rules you are breaking. And only Hinata knew how much Sakura was carrying in her shoulders now, having more blood of another's in her hands and clothes and skin than her own in her system. Sakura was way past traumatised and that, solo, was sad.

And for Sakura, she would cry. She would destroy an army for her, she would bury a country for her, she would build a city for her, she would catch stars with her bare hands. She would begin and end wars for her.

"I will keep watch this night" and she vanished.)

The rogue ninja had precise intel about how bad their addiction was and how and when they were more vulnerable. The other page was an essay about Minato and Kakashi remembered he was the one that burned that.

He watched as the lights on the outside glistened in her diamond and how much their skin was alike and, yet, completely different. They were both pale, but she looked more healthy, even if she'd lost a couple of pounds in the past years. 

Her cheeks weren't hollow anymore, at least. Neither his. He didn't know for sure. He had already drunk the flask he kept in a secret part of the mattress — the one she didn't find yet. There was still the one he kept at the hole in his backpack, the one no one found, where he kept scrolls, supplies and his drinks. Certain things you hide your best, certain things you just don't give a fuck. 

He still had a report Naruto wrote six years ago about a house arrest he had with Sakura, Sai and Yamato, the Team 7 recycled. It was pathetic, but he kept it. 

Nevertheless, Sakura and Kakashi, after all those years, they stopped hiding each other's drugs. 

When an addict wants something, he will get it, no matter how much you try to hide it or if you tie them to the bed. Addiction acts on itself. You're not you anymore. 

They had their really, really bad days. They sell objects of the house, clothes, jewelry, books, even committed burglary. Three months ago, they decided they would do it. 

Stop.  

It is the strongest word in the world.

And by stopping, they would have to go through detoxification.

It is the process of letting the body remove the drugs in it. The purpose is to safely manage withdrawal symptoms when someone stops taking substances of all kinds. It often includes medications that mimic the effects to reduce withdrawal symptoms. Medications may also target co-occurring disorders or general discomfort.

Detox can be dangerous, so amedically assisted detox can reduce withdrawal symptoms and ensure safety. Shit is when the medic is the one going through the detox process. Sakura couldn't act as a doctor to herself, regulating and monitoring her conditions. She could take care of Kakashi, she would take care of Kakashi, but —

When the substances are gradually reduced and removed, the brain will have to adjust to the sudden drop in these chemicals. It can take days or months to get through. 

The length of withdrawal depends on a number of factors, including type of substance the user is addicted to, duration an addiction has lasted, the severity of the addiction, the amount of a substance the user takes at one time, underlying mental health conditions. They filled all the conditions and badly. They were royalty fucked up. Their recovery would take months. They've been abusing for four years at least (Kakashi lost the account of years; maybe ten). The symptoms of detox were nervousness or anxiety, insomnia, nausea, body discomfort, mood swings, poor sleep and difficulty concentrating. 

It involves managing initial cravings and anxiety. But alcohol withdrawal includes physical symptoms that can cause seizures or death in some cases. 

In rapid detox, which was what they needed, the addicted person is sedated with anesthesia and given medications that replace the drugs in the body. The risks of rapid detox often outweigh the benefits. Heart attack, paranoia, high body temperature, infection, nausea, vomiting, aspiration, choking, death.

They had no choice. 

Either they'd die trying to stop or they'd die fighting. What would be worse: die fighting for yourself or fighting for your people? The logical answer would be the first one, but they were suicidal martyrs, bathed in selflessness. They would go down with blood on their hands and necks, not with dry vomit on their chins — they hoped so.

The pain was too much. They knew what they were doing. Knew the shit hole they dug themselves in and escaping now was a distant dream. As long as they could fight, their snacking hands and doubled vision, slurred words and dilated pupils, were there to serve their purpose. If your life has no meaning, is the same as being dead, and, for them, locking themselves to emerge sane and clean while the world went down was stepping in their life purpose and they'd be better dead. 

Truth was they didn't have time. Detoxification takes months. They didn't have it. They were needed, every day, every time. Theyr were losing numbers and they couldn't send kids to the war — even though they were. Every time Kakashi came across a child's body, he took his time to give it a proper burial. He always tried his best to never let Sakura see them. She cried, when she thought no one was seeing.

Biscuit just had puppies. Kakashi tried to order him to stay at home with his pups, but he refused. Not even a direct order changed his mind. Their babies are being born. Hinata had her small son — and she was in the frontlines. Sakura spent months arguing with her, but the child looked so much like Naruto that defending him was the biggest and better ode she could give him. 

Every time they managed to visit the boy, it was like seeing Naruto and it was a pang too great in their chest and they couldn't even begin to blame Hinata for that.

"It is fucked up. How we cry over people that aren't there anymore. They are just a vessel. A vessel that holds what we once loved. So that's what we bury and raise stones for. For nothing. For no one. Once, when I was Hokage and I was drunk, I thought about just blowing up the Memorial Stone. Genma found me in time. He also punched me oblivious. The next morning, I puked three times consecutive and cut myself with pieces of the box I broke when I fell. It didn't help shit to make me feel less off an ass, a stupid, selfish ass."

The Summer Festival was arriving. Probably. The last Festival was bombed and the previous one served, for both sides, as a kidnapping session, so they weren't sure if they would go on with this on. Maybe change the date and mislead outsiders. Maybe just don't do anything. Maybe blow the Sun. Maybe, maybe. These days were all about maybe. And, even this, was the best they had. 

According to their data Kakuzu had two hearts again after almost an year into hiding and losing both arms again wasn't stopping Deidara on blowing shit up, even though his fight with Kakashi all those years ago left him in such a bad shape he only survived because Orochimaru helped him. Konan was now dead. She became their ally and her death was bearing its weight. Hidan — well, the fucker was immortal, but they fucking lost track of him again. 

A was furious beyond repair and Onoki would die within weeks. Not even Sakura could save him. Mei turned against them — again and left a pretty nasty scar on both Sakura and Naruto as doing so. Ao betrayed her and came to the village, and this time there was no way to tell if she was going to change her mind. Gaara was their savior and they owned him so much they would happily concede half of the Fire Nation to the boy. For five years, he endured and even had to go into hiding, but he was the best person Naruto could've found in the world in so many senses. 

Kakashi would bow to his loyalty to his dying day and would do it with pleasure. 

So much more was still going on. Yet, all their data could be wrong, as it's been so many times. They had everything and nothing at the same time.

That's why they dispersed in four groups, leaving Minato solo. Tsunade went with Yamato to the border of the Grass, Temari and Tobirama went to the west of the Rock, Ino and Shikamaru to the Sand and Minato to the Mist, leaving Kakashi and Sakura to the Rain, awhile Hinata was travelling with Tenten that was now a sealing jutsu master that rivaled Naruto. They were few to cover so much ground, so they kept switching. Kakashi's next partner would be Ino, while Sakura's would be Tobirama's and Temari would've been already dropped to Shisui, that was solo. Gaara was acting where he could, as much as he could. But they all knew that at the moment Onoki died, it would burst sky high and then, hell would break loose and there would be no stopping until they all drowned in blood.

No shit he couldn't sleep.

The old apartment they found was in enemy territory, but they managed to hide it well with genjutsu and set enough traps to turn it into a medieval castle with its crocodiles. Unfortunately, they couldn't stay for much longer. It was a small place, half blown, half still. The kitchen didn't exist anymore, so they had to deal with fresh food and cook using fires. The bathroom was enough for them to clean themselves, but there was no hot water and they were deep in the Rain in the middle of the winter. Sakura had to take all preventative methods for them not to get any disease in the trashed place or catch a cold — at this pace, colds kill. 

She shivered and he held her thigher. Their clothes were torn and the spares were still drying, if they had any luck. Tobirama and Temari were supposed to meet them in four days to check another suspect shit. The last one turned out to be lava. Things were getting worse and he missed the Leaf everyday with all his being, but there was nothing he could do now. Not after what happened. 

Bull farted at the living room and Pakkun called him so many names, Ikibi was competing — until Hahab told them to shut the fuck up. No doubt he was Sakura's favourite. They were so much alike he was surprised he wasn't her originally. 

"I couldn't stand burying you, Sakura." His voice sounded strained and he felt what could be the beginning of tears. He didn't shake them off. 'Shinobi don't cry', he once told Obito, he once told so many people, a lifetime ago. But they do.

And for Sakura, he would cry. He would destroy an army for her, he would bury a country for her, he would build a city for her, he would catch stars with his bare hands. He would begin and end wars for her. "I couldn't — fuck — not you too, not again."

The owl cried into the night and some dogs howled, the moon full. The sky was starting to lighten up and they would have to leave in three days. 

He didn't want to. He wanted to hide himself, and her, mostly her, from the world. Find some island and live in a cave, eat coconuts and fish big fishes. They could even live naked. They could disappear. 

But they wouldn't. Cause where there's smoke, there is fire. And they were fire. They were born of it and would die of it. 

"I love you." 

I love you 

The three words everyone is so afraid to speak were said at the end of the night for no one to hear it or catch it. 

Someone said, was it Kakashi, Sakura or Hinata, it was already impossible to tell. 

Who has place for love in the shinobi world? — was what Hinata was thinking when she jumped off the window, three men 37 km from them. Love is also destruction to construct. 

He kissed her forehead and finally drifted off.

Love is less terrifying than life.

A fat tear was rolling out of her eye.

She wasn't asleep.

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.

Chapter Text

"Wait. You knew her? Personally?"

"I knew all of them." They murmured. "At least, I thought I did. Once. A long time ago." 

"What were they like?"

Some crumpled copy of a smile crossed their face.

"They were going to change the world."

And around them, the world burned.

July 3039, 9 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

IT WAS CHAOS.

In all the years living at the Village Hidden in the Leaves, he ever saw such an image. He knew, when he woke up that morning, that it was over. The Leaf was over. 

The streets were turning slowly into desert, leaving a sour taste in the mouth, as the weather was humid, but the sidewalk was cracked. People either died or moved away. It became a battlefield. 

Ever since they deposed Kakashi, it all turned into shit. It was the beginning of a civil war. 

Danzo's puppets remained, even after that long of his death. It was almost 15 years ago, but still, the Foundation never ceased to exist. Kakashi knew, but he never managed to extinguish it. They cut and threw Sai off, cutting their only reliable source of information. All Sai was able to tell them ended up in dead ends, mostly. They didn't manage to make most of the hide outs. The only thing they were capable of doing was avoid the Foundation members to infiltrate the ANBU — at least, just as much as they could. And, watching as things unraveled, it proved not to be efficient enough. 

The new leader of the organization was an abominable woman, worse than Danzo himself. If the fucker had stayed alive, it would've been better. 

The girl was born and raised in the Foundation. The only truth she knew was Danzo's. She never knew anything good, anything decent. It should be comparable with what Sai was when they met him, but she was evil, not emotionless. She was, along with two others, Danzo's pets. He raised three children under his wing to be his predecessors, if the day came, or his assistants, his right arm. Two boys and a girl. One of the boys perished in the War. He was a remarkable fighter, absolute, but died in Madara's own hands. His name was Raru and, from the three of them, he was the only one that, maybe with a lot, a lot of effort could possibly see the light someday. But that day would never come and Raru was dead and so was their hope of "befriending" an enemy. The other boy was a black man (that no one had the faintest idea where Danzo found him, because there were no black people in the Leaf) and he could go on a one on one with Jugo. He had a kekkei genkai that resembled Mei's — oh, that bitch (even though, now Mei was being held captive and the New Regiment was to blame. They wanted precisely this: her kekkei genkai once Ao's was already the Leaf's ally. Mei had turned against them time to time again, never knowing which side to pick. When they found out she was managing to break free from genjutsu after genjutsu it was too late. They had her for 9 months already) — not even near that powerful, but powerful enough to be troublesome. And then, there she was, the bloody prodigy. 

It was hard to describe her. If some liked to joke that Tobirama hated the Uchiha and wanted to control them, she was the very opposite and the very same. She held the same obsession as Danzo, but the same desire to keep them in check, to mistrust them. And now that Kakashi has fallen, she had access to the fact that they had currently two active Uchiha working with them and for them, for many, many years now. Two Uchiha that were supposedly dead and one that was considered a criminal, even after all his crimes were proved to be the Council's fault, but she seemed to find it funny. 'Oh, what a good soldier, killed them all, no questions, no hesitation, the perfect puppet. Such a shame he wasn't mine.' He could hear her saying in Madara's voice 'I'd like to see him dance.'

Kayq was a despot. She was in her early thirties, if much, probably at the end of her twenties, just a bit older than Sakura. As expected, she had Hashirama cells transplanted to her, but who the fuck doesn't have it this days? The poor man became a lab rat, basically.

During the War they had to do all it took to protect him — just as far as you can protect the God of Shinobi. Everyone wanted a taste of his cells, every country, every enemy. It became popular belief how many Leaf ninja had his cells implanted and how it made them more powerful and their healing process much more advanced, among other things. Even though it wasn't true. Not everyone was compatible with his cells. Orochimaru experimented on 60 children and only one, Yamato, survived. Although, they managed to perfect it and that was enough. If it fell into enemies hands they would have a nasty, nasty problem. 

But Kayq was a Leaf ninja and had his cells in her body. She had a long black hair that hit her waist with black eyes that looked like an endless tunnel at night (but there were times they turned a crimson red — but they weren't a sharingan, Kakashi ran all tests he could on that — just like blood spilling in a white carpet and a pale skin, although not as pale as Sai's, because hers looked healthy. She had a resemblance to Sasuke and, somehow, Kakashi wondered if it was Danzo's intention to boil this pupil so well to counterattack the village with one of its most gifted shinobi — until, of course, he deflected and became a rogue ninja, a criminal and someone everyone hated, etcetera. Her body was sculptural and her voice was smooth, always on the border to gentle or sully. She had everyone at her feet, anytime she wanted to, in any possible way. 

Danzo raised her to be his image and semblance, in all possible ways. She had a strict vision on how the Fire Nation should be led, how the children should be raised, how the laws should work. It was a dictatorship. It was a nightmare.

So, ever since Kakashi fell, the Leaf turned into something between a battlefield and a military dictatorship. 

Everyone contrary to the new politic was to be arrested and tortured to sell out his comrades, their hideouts, their plans. 

They arrested children, pregnant women, old people, those who dared to manifest against or even be seen nearby the places the Resistance used to be seen. They arrested civilians. They killed openly in the day, they didn't hide the brutality when they went to arrest someone, when they separated parents for their children. It was always shocking to know that one more kid disappeared. That more and more people were declared dead. And it didn't stop in the Leaf. It included the whole Nation as well as the other men they captured. It was a witch hunt. But mostly, they were killing their own people.

The media was censored, as all the things passed through the new regiment's scrutinizing approval. The material taught at the Academy also changed as well as the educational method. They were raising soldiers, emotionless soldiers. Truth was, the Academy was turning into the Foundation in broad daylight. 

But they attacked. The Resistance attacked. Danzo's (Kayq's) new regiment wouldn't take over so easily. They would fight back with all they had. 

Now Kakashi was their leader, they counted on him to lead them to the right path, to the restoration they deserved. The most fucked part was that the War wasn't over yet. Everyone was resigned that it wouldn't ever be truly over. The Allied Shinobi Forces were no more for many, many years. The Kages turned against each other more times than they could count, making and breaking alliances as one changed underwear. The Akatsuki (if you still can call them "Akatsuki") was still on the run and causing all the damage it once did. And now they were facing a bloody Civil War and outsiders attacks and they didn't have enough men and Kakashi feared a slaughter. But today, specifically today, it was over —

because Kayq made a speech. 

"All citizens, I would like to have your attention." Her strong voice riverbed from the Hokage Tower, her slim form covered in the Hokage attire, the hat in place and, even if the distance didn't allow him to see, Kakashi knew she was smiling. "Our beloved Village is under attack. We have been suffering from War for almost ten years!" A few people began to gather around the Tower, most of them were Foundation members disguised as civilians or regular shinobi, just to spread a false peaceful feeling. And, also, some people were "kindly" taken out of the few restaurants and stores to go to the street to listen. It was a rule: every one must stop all they were doing to listen to the speeches. 

"We used to be a powerful, feared nation, but we are not a shameless joke. We let ourselves fall, we let ourselves become that ghost of our glorious days because of our" oh, Kakashi could taste the word Hokage in her mouth "new fame of 'peaceful land with peaceful leaders that think that engaging in battles are not a way to solve conflicts'!" To his horror, some people began to hum in agreement — and those people weren't her Foundation members nor her guards. "We have to stand for who we are! We have to remind them that the Hidden Leaf does not back down! The Hidden Leaf is not ruled by cowards, our people are not cowards! Remind them we are a powerful nation, a nation they should respect, a nation they should fear!" 

The crowd was wild at this point. What was once fear for her, was now some sort of sick admiration. Her words had the effect they needed, she was saying what they wanted to hear, what they thought they needed to hear. They were devastated by war, they were dying like ants and here she was, telling them they were powerful and now they were the kid with the lamp888 burning the ants with the sun and not the other way round. 

Quietly, it began. "Konoha! Konoha! Konoha!"

"We are proud of our nation!"

"Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha!"

"We shall march into war with our heads high and our hands ready to fight, ready to show them what we are made of!"

"Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha!"

"They are the ones that should fear ours! They will never forget what the Leaf is made of! They will never forget who is the one that shall rule them all!" 

"Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha!"

"We are the foundation that holds this shinobi world together, we are the founders, we are the gods of this new world!"

"Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha! KO-NO-HA!"

Whatever she said next, Kakashi couldn't hear because the crowd was too loud.

six years before

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

The double doors of the Conference Room were thrown open with such strength one of the nails fell off. Naruto paused mid sentence, pointing at somewhere in the huge map they had glued to the wall.

"Everyone," Sakura called out the door, storming in, her cheeks flushed and her fists crumbling a series of papers. She crossed the room in a beeline direction of the Tactical Board "leave!" She shouted as she was approaching, her feet stomping so hard on the floor it left marks.

The whole room turned to look at her, slamming her hand into the desk so hard it made a hole in the middle of it, making it sunk towards the ground, the table crumbling over itself, but not falling yet. Shikamaru fought to hold the extremities together as they placed the papers on the nearest desk, before all its contents splashed on the floor. 

Sakura turned to the small crowd "Everybody," She repeated "leave!" 

The air was filled with the unspoken 'who is the Haruno girl to boss around?' mixed with 'oh, yeah, she is a mini Tsunade', but they didn't respect her quite yet. She had no time for that bullshit today.

Sakura took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. 

"Kakashi, Naruto, Shikamaru, Tsunade and Yamato, you stay. Contact Minato and get him here as soon as possible. And —" She eyed the room and her whole body glewed a pale green as her chakra took all over and the air was thick at just how angry she was.

"Eve-ry-one else, get the fuck out." Her tone didn't leave room for discussion. Most of the crowd dispersed without even needing Kakashi's nod of concordance.

While the few left eyed each other, Sakura kept her gaze glued to the door 'til the last person left and closed it. She then performed a hand seal and smeared her palm on the ground, activating the sound proof jutsu. "Contact Shisui as well and — just Hashirama this time." She finished without looking at them, yet, checking the room. The War was turning Sakura slightly more paranoid and she was perfecting the jutsu, to make sure not one vibration of voice could leak.

"Are you sure about Shisui? I feel like you are going to say some really, really top secret deep shit." Shikamaru asked. He still didn't trust the man completely. Sakura also didn't have time for that bullshit. If she pressed the papers in her hands harder, they would become unreadable. 

"I take full responsibility for him." Kakashi said, his voice even and that was that.

Naruto had already summoned three frogs to each get the respective man Sakura required.

"You won't need Ino on this?" He asked as he sent the last frog.

"No interrogation this time."

When she turned her eyes to them, they could feel what she was feeling even if they didn't know what it was, just that it was bad. 

Kakashi was the one that spoke, his voice calm and controlled as always. Kakashi was always calm and controlled, more than any of them and it always inspired safety. Without him as a leader, this situation would've turned into shit and even Tsunade admitted.

"Sakura, what happened?"

Sakura smeared the papers across the extended new table, the older one kicked aside. It hit a corner and made a hole in it. The papers were a variety that went from scrolls of mission reports, mission requests, autopsies, official documents, dribbles, medical files, numbers, old strategies (even the ones they discarded) and profiles. After she placed the papers on the table, she laid her index finger on one specific page, the one with the medical report.

"There is a mule." She said darkly. 

They all stared at each other and back to her, that also eyed every one of them. For a few seconds nothing was said, until Shikamaru, rubbing his temples, his eyes closed and brow furrowed, broke it.

"Are you sure of it?"

She breadth fire.

"Yes, I am sure of it."

"Shit." Kakashi said. Shikamaru and him exchanged glances. 

"We were suspecting that as well." The latter said.

"Why didn't anyone say anything then?" Naruto demanded, his voice loud. His temper explosion was the closest to the Naruto they've known and it was almost a relief to see he was still there; some days it was just scary how business-like he got, even to Sakura and Kakashi that got used to him being cold when he needed to. "It is a mule we're talking about! It's not the fucking weather!" He motioned with his hands, throwing them up and glaring "This can jeopardize the whole—"

"We know." Kakashi cut him mid sentence and his voice was so serious even Yamato had to contain a shiver. "We just couldn't bring this up without proof or even a clear idea. It would just raise panic — and your voice."

Naruto opened his mouth, but Tsunade was the one that spoke.

"What did you find, Sakura?" As always, in these moments, despite the henge, the former Hokage's eyes showed her true age. Kakashi and her had that in common — their eyes sometimes betrayed them.

"I knew something wasn't right, something was off. I felt it since the first attempt, the one against Kaka and Obito. The attack was just... too good. Too good for comfort. We were only able to stop it in time due luck. Otherwise..." Everyone knew what that meant. "So, since that day, I was suspicious, but I shoved it off as paranoia, but then it became too frequent to ignore. 

This mule isn't stupid. He or she isn't obvious. Not all the attacks or attempts are perfect, so it made it harder to see. It was subtle. The hour shifting of guarding, the schedule, the mission schedule itself, the shinobi that were and weren't in the village at the moment, where the missions were and how good the ambushes were turning in. Even then it wasn't obvious. The first four times it could've been pure luck or just observation. But it scaled and the attacks became all too precise to ignore it." Sakura lifted her eyes from the papers and some accusation spilled from her mouth. "You two noticed it too?"

Both men nodded, stern looks on their faces. 

"We followed your same line of thought, that all the attacks were too perfectly timed. Always the right place, at the right time, to the right people. We kept a low profile 'cause, as we said, we couldn't accuse or raise panic without proof."

"But now you have it." Kakashi finished and pointed with his chin to the papers.

"Yes, I do." Sakura looked them all in the eye before beginning to explain, one corner of her mouth lifting in a wicked grin. Shisui arrived at that precise moment.

"Ok, ok, someone fill me in." He said jumping through the broken table and leaning by the window. 

"We have a mule." Naruto offered with a pout. 

"We have a what?! Really?" They all nodded and he looked around the papers on the table and then up to Kakashi. "Why isn't he here?" 

"In the papers or in the room?"

"Well, maybe both."

They all exchanged glances between themselves, not seeming to follow the line of thought. Shisui seemed furious at something. 

"He couldn't make it."

"Who are we talking about?" Naruto demanded. 

"No one." Tsunade said at the same time Shisui said:

"Itachi."

"Itachi?" Shikamaru repeated. "What does this have to do with this?"

"Yeah, Shisui, what does he have to do with this?" Kakashi asked in a harsh tone and his eyes were stony. Shisui dropped the subject. 

"Sorry. It would be just logical. But how did we get to the point of locating a mule?"

"The attack patterns." Sakura answered, patient, as she ran all the facts over her head a thousand times. 

"It first happened in the first attack, the one directed to Obito and Kakashi," she began, smearing one of the papers on the top for them to see it. "it was just too perfectly timed and placed. They got the right room number. I don't know how we overlooked it." she sighed "Anyway, it was the first sign. The attackers knew all too much and way too much. The attack was precisely on the turn shifting, the last before dawn. They came in a straight line to the destination, despite the genjutsu set in the whole village. They came to his room specifically knowing that Kakashi would be there. What they didn't count on was the fact the Obito was indeed trained by Madara fucking annoying pain in the ass die hard Uchiha and the boy sensed the movement before they touched the window. We all know what happened then." 

They nodded, thoughtful expressions on their faces. Naruto had his arms crossed in front of him as did Kakashi — which could only mean this was really serious cause he wasn't with his hands on his pockets. Tsunade had her balls turning into fists, but it was noticeable she was trying to hold her temper. Shikamaru, the only one that sat on the table beside her, crossed his hands in front of his face, arms on his knees and he seemed to be doing ten thousand of maths at the moment. Shisui was still leaning at the window, staring at the papers, his brow furrowed in deep thought, his eyes running up and down trying to read it all. Yamato was midway surprised, still, which made Sakura unnerved. Kakashi noticed it all too and just in a speck of a second his eyes met Sakura's and both of them read each other's mind. Odd, was their shared word.

Minato flashed in the middle of the room, a yellow thunder. 

"What did I miss?" 

He had that warm smile of his with those hard eyes of his, never forgetting the situation. 

"We have a mule, sensei."

"A mule? I thought so."

"Oh, fuck me. Everyone knew, but me?!" Naruto yelled, indignant washed over him. 

His father walked over to him and said, while messing his hair. "What else? Fill me in, son."

As Naruto explained the situation to his father, Kakashi took a swing from the canteen Sakura gave him the last Christmas they spent in the field and read one of the files, his eyebrows knitting together. Tsunade asked for a swing too and so did Sakura, swallowing a pill. Shikamaru watched, but his heart was in the mule. Either way, he probably knew already.

Sakura looked at Minato and Naruto over her shoulder and when they nodded, she resumed talking.

"And so it kept happening," she continued "but, as I said, it wasn't explicit. Either chance or choice, it retarded us. Taking in all the 37 attacks, 12 had intel."

"12?!" Minato repeated, alarmed.

Sakura only nodded.

"That's way too much." Kakashi said. He was doing his own maths, as it seemed. Having him, Shikamaru and Minato in the same tactical team was such a win. That's why Itachi was in a pressing manner. "It's way too close to half of it and we could've been damned for quite a while now. I don't think they're such a dumb group to lose all this opportunities, unless it was in purpose. It's a cover. The mule itself is a cover."

Shikamaru nodded slowly. 

"Here," he pointed "the ambush in Rice. Naruto and Ino were in henge. They were, officially, quoted as here, on an inside mission. And here" he pointed to another scroll "Tsunade was running the tests just in the adjutational lab they broke into and we thought they'd mistaken it, but no. Their intent wasn't to attack Lady Tsunade, but to retrieve very, very specific documents on the counter effects of the Izanagi. It was punctual. It's classified info."

"And, yet, they knew it." Tsunade for once spoke, her voice trembling with all that could be anger. She was almost glowing, just as Sakura was, but she was feeling deep in her bones the anger of letting these things happen under her nose. She wasn't Hokage anymore, but she was far from retired. She was very much on active duty.

Shikamaru nodded, but it was Kakashi that spoke.

"And, yet" the way he repeated the words had a hidden meaning "they were mistaken here and here."

"The Caravan to Sand?" Sakura asked, "I looked over it. It was a double trap: it was leaked that Gaara was in the caravan which led people to believe he actually was and that it was a false lead, but they attacked even then. It is on the roll of classified."

"Yes, it is. But, as you said, it was a double trap, it was a bluff over a bluff. The saying was that Gaara was in the caravan that was supposed to led people to think they said it so everyone would assume he wasn't when he actually was. But you know it was a triple bluff. He wasn't at the caravan and they attacked." He explained "The same happened with the Nara ground invasion. Just a small circle knows that's where Hidan is, but the location was transcriptase. They charged in the right place, but at the wrong spot."

"Which means?" Naruto asked, with his dumb expression of his face, the one he always had when he lost himself in the middle of the way. Kakashi sighed, but Yamato was the one who spoke, for the first time.

"They only have access to a certain depth. Even in the trusted ones' hall, there are precise infos that aren't entirely true and accurate, as was the case in both. That's good and bad news."

"Aham, so?" Naruto returned. Tsunade smacked him in the head. 

"The mule has access to classified information, but it considerably reduces the number of suspects, given the exceptions. It is bad that one of us is a traitor, but it is good that we can narrow the number."

"Not only narrow, but risk a few names, ours included."

"No." Yamato said, his face blank staring at the mess of sheets. 

"What?" Sakura asked in a non violent way, but still demanded under confusion.

"It doesn't risk all of us. Of all, I am the biggest suspect." 

Sakura gasped and her hands covered her mouth. Tsunade shook her head and took a step back, looking at the floor. Kakashi and Shikamaru remained. Shisui hissed, shaking his head. Minato looked like someone had slapped him.

"Oi! Is it too hard to explain? Why do you always keep me in the dark?" Naruto shrieked.

"Naruto," Minato's voice rolled like thunder and in the pale moonlight his impotence was tall "this is not about you."

"'K, sorry." He mumbled under his breath 

"It is far worse." The Hokage pitched the brick of his nose. Thirsty. "It is the Foundation."

"The Foundation? But aren't they supposed to not exist anymore? And to be on our side? And what does this have to do with Yamato-sensei?"

"Because, Naruto, all this mission ran through the Foundation HQ. And worse" he took a breath before saying it "I was the one in charge of all of them."

eight months later

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

"I'm gonna break your jaw if you keep talking."

"But, you see —" the man delivered a blow that cut off the sentence.

"Or just cut off your tongue."

"You asked, I answered."

"Your ass you answered." A second man said. "You just kept babbling about meaningless shit. No wonder nobody likes you."

Ok, that hurt. That hurt and it showed. They took advantage of it. 

"What more do you want?" It was hard to talk with so much blood in your mouth and there was some obstructing his nose where he was punched. 

"The truth!" He yelled and the walls felt like shaking. "And I can break your nose if I want to. Or if you do want to. You seem into this shit."

"You're the one mentioning." He spat blood at his face, but the man had already taken a step back and it only hit his stomach. His face was swallowed and blood was dripping from his temple to his chin. Yet, he was baring his teeth under a cool demeanor.

"The girl seemed to like it."

It only took a second.

"Shut the fuck up!"

A bolt of electricity jolted through his entire body, making every cell in body shrink and burn. Although, he smiled. His teeth were covered in blood. 

It all happened in a blur, those you have when you stand up too fast and all you see is a blur with black spots. In a heartbeat all the tugs were at floor, his bodies melting into pulls of blood and black fire. The interrogator was now with both legs broken, so he couldn't run. As for his hands, this time was his time to set electricity. Years watching the Hyugas fight, you learn where the chakra points are. And while they used the Gentle Fists this was more of a Crushing-Your-Chakra-Paths-in-a-Way-That-Seems-You're-Going-to-Die-from-Pain. 

The tug just screamed, looking around like a scared child looks for his parents in the supermarket when they get lost. And he was lost, indeed, but no one was coming for him, now. 

"That hurt, h-hurt, you son of a bitch." He spat blood and two teeth, his upper lip was stretched to a point it was open in flesh. 

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realise the interrogation should be gentle."

"Yeah, I don't have your girlfriend here to heal me." 

He was kicked in his ribs, lying on the floor in a fetal position and rolled a few meters, groaning. 

"Maa, maa, all you do is whine. Was that what your mate said to my, what did you call her?, girlfriend when he tried to get his luck with her?"

The man just spit in his direction. 

"Oh, come on, Copy Ninja. You know how these things work. You're quite known in our sub world here, did you know that? You're not just a living legend fighting, you are a living legend of cruelty. But come on, tell me." The man began to cough blood and his face was turning green. "Tell me, how did that feel?"

Kakashi didn't say anything. He just walked, crippling a little, since his left knee was basically open, to a metal table at the right corner and inspected the tools. He was thinking with great care what he would choose. 

"How does it feel to be such a murderer?" 

"Look who's asking." Was all Kakashi said, still going through the objects. He picked an axe, some senborn, a whip, a small bucket and a plastic bag.

"Where are they?"

"Wrong question." The man smiled, toothless in the front and those that remained were yellow. 

"Wrong answer."

In one move he stuck five senbor into the man's nails and while he screamed he taped him to a chair — the very same one he was tied to, boiling the metal. He took all the senbon at once and asked 

"Why the fuck do you even keep salt in here?"

It was a small room, the walls were probably white once, but now they were an ugly shade of brown, yellow and crimson red, full of dry blood. Same with the floor. You could see the white tiles if you tried hard enough, but most of it was covered in pools of blood and some boot steps. Five chairs were scattered around, the men on the floor, his bodies already unrecognized and a metal table full of tools — and more blood, obviously. 

When the man was too busy trying to adjust to the heat of the seat, Kakashi took his hand in his and deliberately dropped salt in his hand. The man did his best not to yell and Kakashi had to recognize that. 

"Can see why you were the leader. You almost seem tough."

"You're a coward." He spat on Kakashi's face, blood and saliva just a bit above his mouth — he hadn't his mask for a while. Two days maybe. 

"Oh, am I?" He heated the needles and pushed them in again, slower. "Says the man that raped over 20 women, 20 civilian women that stood no chance even against the ones like you, that at least know what chakra is." Pushed it a bit further, his nail had just cracked in the middle, bleeding now over the salt. Kakashi was just as serene as a sunday morning. 

When he reached the end of the man's nails, he broke the first joint of his finger. This time the man let out a loud grunt. 

"Do you really, really think that if you don't scream you'll be decent?"

"So that's all this is about, isn't it?" The man began to laugh. Before he could continue, Kakashi asked sincerely what his name was again and that seemed just to fuel. "You think you're so much better, an elite assassin. Does that make you better to God?"

"I don't believe in God." The middle finger and the pinky at the same time, while the index finger was broken completely in half, the bone propping. 

"He wouldn't believe in you either."

Kakashi just shrugged, not taking his eyes off of the man. 

"Do you always do that?" Cold sweat was dripping from his temple to his chin, an imitation of Kakashi's blood. Kakashi only cocked an eyebrow. "Ask your victims' names"

"You're not a victim."

"My sister was."

Oh, so that's what this is all about. 

"Yeah, you're thinking this is the only reason I've come after you." 

The man had a maniac smile on his face that faded the moment Kakashi cut his finger off with the axe. He screamed. Kakashi smiled. Twisted fuck. 

"Then why are you after me, ....?"

"Takeshi." He bit it out. 

"Takeshi. Nice name, indeed. Ever read "Make-Out Tactics"? One of the main characters has a very similar name."

"That's how you work, uh? Boring us to give you information?"

"You don't seem bored." He not only broke the man's (Takeshi) foot, turning it 180 degrees, but whipped it, chakra strength added. Another scream, throwing his head back. Kakashi was so unfazed he could've been watching a cat bathing. 

"Motherfucker!"

"Been called worse."

"Tell me how it was." 

Kakashi descended the bulb into the man's eyes. It must've hurt like hell, considering he put salt in his orbs right before the light hit. Takeshi tried to close his eyes, but it would stink even more. 

"Open your eyes."

Another whip, another cry. No eyes opened. Kakashi dropped his foot on the cold floor, his leg twisted in a strange angle and one of his hands with his fingers broken — so he blew totally the other one, opening its palm, the fingers dripping, hanging, his arm's bones showing. The man screamed, but Kakashi left the room.

He searched through the hideout to find out it was hidden beneath a genjutsu he broke free as soon as he felt it. Being captured to extract information is always, as Shikamaru would say, such a drag. 

But those rogued nin were much more of a lead they had within weeks, so the best had to be sent (which was Sakura, but as soon as Kakashi got the word of who was going to be there, he distracted her — more like put her on a complete false lead at the opposite direction; she was going to be mad, but it wouldn't be that fucked up, nothing he couldn't live without, like a liver), then he came. Finding them was easy enough, they were a big group of twelve. The intelligence of the new Akatsuki was remarkable. They hide S-rank shinobi with poor genin that can barely walk in water. Their only mistake was to leave a survivor. And that survivor was Sakura. 

He had to put on a henge, hide his chakra and get into a bar fight. After almost two weeks tracking them in a way they wouldn't notice him and would take him for granted. All in while the War was happening. It was like the Akatsuki had little toys paws and were destroying paper cities in whichever order they wanted to. Their movements were being too haphazard, there were no loose ends. 

Until they attacked the Northern Border Village. And Sakura. Who the fuck attacks Sakura is a good question and that, just that was their mistake. The chances were 50/50: either they attacked her 'cause they were dumb enough to do not know her or they thought they could catch her, once she was alone in a mission with three or four princesses. The princesses died as did their ladies — and almost Sakura. She almost died because she was trying to save their lives — particularly, the life of the six year old princess. That's where the twisted part gets in how the little girl died: she was raped by over three men, more than the princesses. 

When Kakashi rescued her, she told him his name, but he didn't remember. He just remembers how low her heartbeat was and her breath, shallow. She managed to take down seven and hurt other two, but the rest got away. The true mistake was this. You do not leave survivors. No matter if you have to die for it, you don't leave survivors. Never. Unless, you don't care about what you're fighting for. Unless you're just in it for being into it. Unless you believe they were dead. Unless you killed them and you're sure of it. That's why.

After a good ten minutes, Kakashi returned to the room to see Takeshi lying on the floor, a big, big pull of blood around him. Kakashi was a bad boy and when he dropped Takeshi's feet, he made sure to glue it (more like attaching minuscule paper bombs that glued to his skin) to the floor. So, when he tried to escape, the paper blew and he lost the skin of his feet. Now, the man was crying. Good.

"Oh, no, no. What d'you do, Takeshi, my man?" He lifted up the shaking man and sat him back in the burning chair. He could smell his skin burning. Cause he was getting too white (and Sakura was an evil genius for showing him this technique) he healed some of his injuries, making the pain bearable and the body functioning. Just to wreck it all again. 

"Tell me, Hatake. Tell me how it felt."

"I have no fucking idea of what you're talking about." He said while dragging the table to the front of the chair and then putting the bucket in it. "But I do wanna know where they are."

"Why the fuck would I tell you? You would kill me anyway."

He shrugged. "I can be merciful."

"My niece disagrees."

Fuck.

"Sure she will get over it." He was filling the bucket.

"She's dead."

"She got over it already then." 

He dragged the chair and sat the man up, tying his hands.

"She was eight months old." 

To that, he stopped.

Judging by the man aspect and accent, he was a Mist — no, Grass nin. He remembered the ugly mission he'd done there. There and all the Five Nations. He was an Anbu for ten years, he fought two wars. He killed too many people. 

"You don't even remember her, do you?" His voice sounded pained and hurt. Just for the sake of doing something to not even begin to dwell on guilt, he healed his exploded hand, but shattered all the bones. Takeshi screamed. 

"Last chance."

"You fucker don't —" Kakashi never heard the end of the sentence as he drowned the man's head onto the bucket and held him there. He counted to thirty and let him back. Takeshi was gasping for air like a reverse fish. 

"Anything?"

"Don't recall —"

More water and more time. He counted to forty. Takeshi was shaking his whole body, trying desperately to escape the tight embrace, but there was no prayer for the wicked. Kakashi's forearm was strongly pressed against his neck, above his back and his other hand was holding Takeshi's hand.

Another deep breath. 

"I can play this all day."

He just spit and was about to curse some more, but he was on the water again. Fifty. He wouldn't last much longer. 

Before Kakashi could open his mouth, the man yelled in between gasps.

"Tell me!" Gasping for breath, his whole body shaking. Takeshi was crying already. The water was too cold and his seat too hot. He was red faced and his lungs were burning. 

"Tell me how it feels to kill the only thing in a man's life!"

"I cannot —"

"She was blonde. She was blonde, blonde. She had dark eyes and brown skin. Her name was Ari. Her daughter was Ryh. You didn't ask for their names. You just pulled their hearts out."

He remembered.

He was 18 at the time. In all the glory of his anger, all the glory of being heartless. They broke into a civilian shop and they needed to find a man — apparently, Takeshi comes from a bad family. 

(But, then again, what is bad? What is bad for Takeshi isn't bad for Kakashi. Pain once said we couldn't understand true pain. That the Leaf nin killed his family, destroyed his life, his country, but we were the only ones that thought that had the right to be angry. They were all casualties in a power game. Their lives didn't matter. Pains, Narutos, Kakashis, Obitos. Who gets to decide who's bad and who's not? Who's the bad guy? How is this settled? Because the pain of loss Kakashi felt is the same pain Nagato felt and was the same Obito felt and was the same to Takeshi. Aren't they all to blame, then? He slaughtered his whole family.)

They couldn't find his father right away, so they had to play with the cards they had, which meant torture. 

Torture goes way beyond physical and, truth be told, Kakashi would get his balls ripped off for eternity than suffering with more loss. Psychological torture should be a sin on itself. It does play the trick, although. 

Please, not my baby were the words that would echo in his mind to his dying day. And now he knew the baby's name. And knew he was the one that inflicted pain and loss at a family. 

"War" seems to be the perfect word, the perfect excuse. War, by definition, is pathetic. Nothing more than "a state of armed conflict between different nations or states or different groups within a nation or state." Just that. Just petty fights, that excuse it all and cause it all and no one has nothing to say, because war is war and that's all it was about. 

The definition of war lacked the depth of the loss, pain, grief, bloodshed, insanity and self loath that comes attached to it. Who cares about feelings, anyway? Shinobi don't.

"So, you've come for revenge? Why did you attack Sakura? Target Kurenai's daughter, a child? An eye for an eye?" Kakashi stated in a low voice, burying all and every emotion. Takeshi laughed. 

"Oh, oh, the infamous Copy nin thinks the world spills around him, uh?" The man had a crazy twitch to his face now. He looked completely insane. All his fake composure was lost. It was a sight of a lost person, left on the Earth to rot in loneliness. That's how Kakashi sees himself in his worst days. "No, no, no, no. I am not here because of you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Not gonna tell." He just shrugged and just like that he was drowning again. Sixty five. 

"Where are they, Takeshi?"

"Where is her body?"

"Answer me!"

"How did it feel to murder a child?"

He snapped. He hit the man's head on the table so harshly a gush cut his face and began to bleed profusely. He was alive still. Kakashi didn't know. He kicked buckets, punched the walls, broke the chairs. "It felt like fucking suffocating! " He all but shouted "That's what you wanted to hear?" He jerked Takeshi's body up again and shook him. The man was out. He dropped him on the floor. "It feels like dying, but fucking worse. It feels like... It feels like I lost my fucking soul!"

He jerked Takeshi up when he sent a bolt of lightning through the water — enough to hurt him badly, but not to kill him. His body convulsed on the floor and all Kakashi felt was disgust.

"That's what you wanted?" He lifted Takeshi's destroyed face from the ground by his hair. His face was swollen, ugly bruises forming, bleeding and stuffed. He was nothing like the man he was at the beginning of the interrogation. "A part of my fucking soul dies every time, even when I kill scum like you. But you know the difference between two murderers?" He dropped the face, that fell with a thump and was all ragged breath and began to pace around again. He lighted a cigarette and pointed at him with the fag between his fingers. "None of us has an excuse. We are the same kind of monster, Takeshi." He crouched to look at the man that was barely holding his head up to look at him. "But the difference is there I am willing to die for them and not just kill. That's what separates us."

He put the cigarette between his fingers and walked away again, grabbing the plastic bag and lifting a chair, sitting the man in, not even bothering on tying his hands. 

"And now, my man, you will tell me," he pushed another chair for himself, sitting with the back of the chair to his chest, and put them back to back, sitting with his front to the back of both chairs, while Takeshi was held in tradicional position. All that separated them was two metal bars, yet the electricity from Kakashi's body was echoing in the air, making all the hair's in the ninja's body raise. He took another breath and swallowed, the cigarettes glued to his lips. "Now you will tell me where they are."

Leaving no time for him to think, Kakashi put the bag over the man's head and pushed it, closing it at the back of his neck, provoking a vacuum. The bag was all blood and Takeshi's features, his screams muffled by himself and his own thickness. His hands raised to try to rip Kakashi's from his, but it was for no use. He was too weak. 

"Tell me." Was a command too far away, the cigarette following up and down the words in his lips. The man took all the air in the world once the bag was off and his hands went straight to his throat, trying to soothe the pain and absorb oxygen.

"Takeshi," He tipped the cigarette away. "my patience is running thin." He flexed his fingers and his neck. Takeshi didn't dare to look back. Kakashi lowered his face and spoke to his ear. "You will talk, so save us both the trouble." 

When Kakashi straightened his back and Takeshi didn't move an inch, in one swift motion, he put his head back in the bag and held it stronger this time, to the point his face turned purple and he almost died.

He took off the plastic and the man fell to his feet. He had passed out. Kakashi kicked him and hit the bucket along. He strolled around the room, cursing. Still low on chakra, he had yet to rest to perform a good enough genjutsu. 

Lightening another smoke he felt a dull pain on his right thigh and looked down to see a lot of blood coming out of it, but no cut. He looked back wide eyed and the sight made his blood run cold. 

Takeshi was on one knee, a knife deep in his right tight, his clothes ripped off and all the previous damage inflicted to him was gone. It was replaced by a new set of skin. 

He was all black with white stripes. He was a skeleton, but not a bone one, just a painted one. At his feet, a pentagrama was drawn in blood and he had that maniac look on his face. He looked just like...

"You... You... You're dead!"

He laughed, that maniac high pitched laugh. 

"It is an honour, but I am not him. Lord Jashin took me as his follower and as my display of gratitude you will be my offering, Kakashi Hatake!"

Takeshi smiled and abruptly removed the knife from his tight, that had reached all the way to the other side, to what made Kakashi fall to the ground in pain, and lifted it slowly and ritualistically to his heart and sank it at once.

"Now die!"

The dagger was long and crossed all the way through his heart and out of his back, breaking through his ribcage and spine, coming out two thirds. Blood fled from Kakashi's mouth and pain shot through his entire system, all his cells into shock, all his synapses shooting too slow, his ending frying, his insides burning, his heart pumping vivacious blood. His head hit the ground and all went unfocused, but he felt too much pain still. 

Fighting to keep his eyes open he looked at Takeshi and saw that the man was too at the ground and not standing victorious. He was gaping like a fish and cursing. 

"This shouldn't happen..." his hoarse voice said. 

Kakashi couldn't make sense out of these words before the man stopped babbling and died. He had the strength to stretch his fingers to his porch and retrieve a scroll that he got back when he went to check the place. It was for emergencies only and it required blood, which Kakashi had all too much.

With the last blink of an eye, he opened it and pressed his palm. The next second he was out — and at the Hokage Tower's floor, bleeding profusely.

36 hours later, Kakashi was laying in a bed, his face a scowl that seemed permanent and was rising to his feet to walk to the window. No one stopped him.

Two hours ago he finished the report, from being purposely abducted to being stabbed on the heart for death and the whole Tatic's Board was being summoned. 

They never used the same location for meetings, but the hospital room was a first. And, as a first as well, Kakashi didn't complain they were there. It was Obito's room. 

"Is everyone here already?" Naruto chanted, entering the room with much more grace and quietude one could ever expect from him.

"No." Kakashi said simply from the window. 

The news hadn't yet been properly delivered, but the rumors were enough. They all knew, but it just needed to be officialized. And that's why they were still waiting for the one person that never was late. 

After five minutes, Shikamaru opened the door and Tsunade slammed the scroll to seal the room completely. No one got in or out, all sound locked inside with them. 

A circle informally formed and they were all staring at Kakashi's back, still looking through the window. 

"Everyone knows why we are here. The rumors are true. I am only alive 'cause Takeshi wasn't well versed and trained on what he did. Apparently, the contract one takes with a God has a lot of trials, limitations, training and diverse offerings. By the research, Takeshi was too new to the business to try to kill in such a poor condition, but it could've been fatal." The thought of Kakashi dying in such a simple mission would be laughable, if not for the scar in his chest. "We were wrong. It is not a fake." Even knowing, everyone's breath got caught.

"Are you sure of that, Kakashi? You said yourself he was just a copycat —"

"He wasn't a copycat, sensei. He was a new adept of the religion. It is not how we thought." Kakashi sighed and massaged his temple. 

The birds were flying East and the weather was changing, the winter was near and the nights were to become longer. The room was cold and silent, heavy with the unspoken truth. 

"It is true." Kakashi sighed and turned around. His eyes met Shikamaru's instantaneously. 

"Hidan is back."

Chapter Text

"The only way to break a good man is to take everything they valued most and degrade it.

The problem is you end up creating a monster, for as long as you live you will regret creating that man because he will be your greatest horror."

April 3035, 6 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War  

"Fuck! fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!"

A FIST SLAMMED THE wall and it ran a crack to its top and for a moment there was a contemplation that could just fall over their heads. 

Hyugo finally spoke. After almost three weeks of interrogation, he finally cracked. Literally, as well. He's been kept alive for the past few days after he gave the first noticeable info, they knew they just had to keep pushing and he would go from a broken dam for a trickle of water. 

But they had no time to celebrate. The fucker sent them straight to a bloody fucking trap. Fifty men died because of him. The ambush was stopped in time to leave few collateral damage, but deaths are deaths still. But in time of war, unfortunately, they couldn't even properly bury them. They just splashed some water on the ground around them, made only one cross, said a few empty prayers and they had to deal with it. Which meant spank Hyugo to death. 

"YOU FUCKER!" Was how he marched into the room, slamming the door after him in a way that the wood cracked. All the eyes turned and the blood dripping on the floor was enough already to tell them "serious shit happened". Every word was punctured with a punch and every punch was punctured with so much blood the fists were goners and the pale hands were just red.

"You" a punch "killed" another punch "fifty" one more "men!" The last punch sent his teeth out of his mouth and sent him into the floor, forming a hole in the ground. 

The shackles that held Hyugo trashed to the floor with the heavy locker hitting the back of the man and they would worry he might try to escape if he wasn't so beaten up. His face was quickly swallowing like a balloon a happy kid would blow on summer days — except four kids were caught in the explosion. 

All the eyes were wide, confused and growing angry — even though they did know what had happened. Their eyes darted from the man on the floor and up again. No one moved. No one tried to pick Hyugo up. 

So, he was lifted up from the ground by his collar and slammed into the wall (that this time crashed, a round hole in it, but now wasn't the time to the building to bury them. That fucking cockroach deserved pain at the very least.) 

"How dare you?" It was a roar, it was an animal, it wasn't humane. "How dare you do that? Did you really think you'd escape?" Hyugo was now choking, his face growing a beetle red, his eyes popping from his eyeballs and his legs were kicking aimlessly in the air. He was choking in the pleas he was trying to say. The more he tried the more the bloodied hand suffocated him, the arm's veins popping with the strength.

"Stop." A voice pleaded. "Stop! You're going to kill him!"

"And doesn't he deserve it?" He roared back to whomever spoke to him. "Death would be a relief to you, buddy." Hyugo was growing more and more slack, like a rag doll, his hands losing its grip on the arms holding him. 

"Stop!" Another voice demanded. 

"No!"

"It is an order."

"I don't give a fuck." Hyugo's eyes were never left, being drawn into the ire roaring, flaring. The red aura was strong enough to cast wind through the whole room — and it hasn't any windows. It was a spiral of orange and black, suffocating, too hot, so full of malicious intent it actually hurt.

A hand came to his shoulder and immediately Hyugo fell to the ground, whining like a scared animal. The hands were still clenched, looking at the prisoner. The grip on the shoulder tightened and he was forced to look away, look to the hand that was planted in him, keeping him rotted. He made a move to kick the man in the floor, but probably his shoulder had some broken bone. 

"Naruto, stop!"

Everyone was shocked to see the ever so positive and smiling man in such a fury was like seeing a chicken kill a shark. It wasn't something that sounded even possible, let alone real. But Naruto marched as a mad man and almost killed a man, punching him with such strength Sakura would be pleased. 

Every time Naruto goes guttural it is like unleashing a beast and letting it run amok. Few survive to tell its tale.

Naruto was boiling with anger when he turned around, the broken bones in his shoulder where the hand had grounded and stopped him already healed.

"How can you — you — you ask me to not kill him? He —"

"I know what he did."

"How would —" Naruto's eyes narrowed and Kakashi grew over him, his height not being the threat, but his presence. The room was engulfed by his presence and the legendary murderer showed his claws. 

"If you, for even a second, think that I would betray the Village, I will make sure to show you how much of a traitor I am."

The quiet was suffocating. 

Until it broke, like glass shattering.

"Don't you see that's precisely what he wants? To make us turn on one another. Of fucking course Kakashi knew, but when it was too late. How do you think back up came? Kakashi sent them. He wanted to go. He was adamant about it, but the ambush was so good, it misled all of us. Each of you went alone to the location. Both of you could've fucking died! Just because you think you are better than anyone, because you are legends. But here comes a thing: legends aren't immortal, they're just words and a title. In the field, you die like a paw too." 

That was definitely the biggest sentence Tsunade has ever said in her entire life without breaking or throwing someone. 

Hyugo set things up perfectly: Naruto doubted that Kakashi knew about the ambush and still sent him there. Things were boiling up to the pressure point where everyone would explode and how many would get caught in the middle of it, it couldn't even begin to imagine. 

When Hyugo gave true intel, but fake locations, four teams left and only one returned. Kakashi wanted to leave on his own team, but he was held back. He would've died too, there would be no doubt about it. Naruto survived due Kurama and good timing. More than 50 men died, but they wouldn't tell Naruto that right at that moment. 

Never in his life would he doubt Kakashi, but they were playing with them, using them like toys. They've been away for almost two months now, with Kakashi travelling once in a week back to the Village to rest and reset the shadow clones and give more specific orders to Naruto's transformation into him. He couldn't keep shadow clones for that long. Because of that, at least once in the week the true Kakashi had to take the robe even if he did so to ignore pointless papers and memos and pay attention to strategies and visit T&I obsessively. 

(And drink.

Heavily.

Without needing to hide so hard.

But no one needed to know this.)

So when they captured Hyugo and he was the only one they didn't kill (but liked to maintain him in the same cell they kept the other five bodies — they were immune to the smell, but the prisoners weren't. It was effective) he began to mess with their head. 

They were keeping a low profile ever since Itachi and, actually, placing Tsunade with Kakashi was a strondous mistake that only served well to rinse the tension — and Hyugo picked that up. Even though both Tsunade and Kakashi were actual geniuses, they could only think straight to a certain extent and they made a mistake. 

Two nights ago Tsunade asked Sakura to replace her and Shikamaru was somehow always attached to them or to the other side of the world, no in between. This time, he got there too late: they had just left for the ambush and he was the one that noticed the inconsistency. If it wasn't for him Kakashi would find a way to rebel and run straight to his death and wouldn't be able to call Naruto in time.

Tsunade crouched and whispered to Hyugo, her velvet voice when she had an upper hand in gambling.

"You are less than scum. You are a fucking fly in a dog's shit. I even pity you." And then she kicked his stomach with such force that the ribs being broken was loud and echoed through the room. 

Kakashi signalled to Naruto with his hand for them to talk outside. They could hear Naruto's loud voice exasperated and ashamed "I'm losing it, Kakashi sensei" but the prying was broken when Hyugo began to laugh uncontrollably.

Blood coughed out of his mouth. Sakura kneed and healed him, without the plus of making it painless, her face as blank as a sheet of paper yet to be touched, the diamond shining in her forehead. He stopped laughing when she pushed back one broken arm in one swift motion and the bone popped up ripping his skin.

Tsunade and Shikamaru watched. 

"We will need a tracker." Sakura said while watching Hyugo scream. 

Hyugo, with his black hair covering his pale face, his whole features contorted in a scream reminded her of Sasuke. She put a strand of hair behind his ears and when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and drool in his chin she punched him with so much strength his brains exploded and covered her and not even a crack was made in the wall. Her chakra control was indeed perfectly mastered.

Shikamaru tilted his head. Geniuses get confused sometimes. 

"And you called me here to...?"

"Not to be a tracker, brat." Tsunade spit. "You need to pick four shinobi and send them in all the directions, north, south, west and east."

Sakura wasn't even looking at him and Tsunade was leaning on the wall opposite to him, her brow furrowed. 

Hyugo's body was already at a makeshift crippler and Sakura was already using her chakra scalpel to open his chest, what was left of his head already separated from his body at his side. She had yet to place the jutsu over his body because Shikamaru wanted to throw up already, but that thought was around in the background of his mind. But the smell would always hit him hard in the face. 

"This was our very last chance of an alliance with the Mist." Tsunade said to no one or nowhere in particular.

"How so? He was caught in their territory?"

"Territory is no more when we catch war prisoners." Sakura's voice was dark and her hand was deep into the man's chest. Several bones were broken. She had a small notebook by her side where she was taking notes. 

"Why are you performing an autopsy here?" Shikamaru asked out of the blue only for four eyes to meet him deadly. 

"There is a lot a body can tell." Was all Tsunade said.

"We can't even fucking tell if they weren't the responsible for this."

Shikamaru lighted a cigarette, not even thinking twice before lighting one to Tsunade, but questioning Sakura with his gaze — she only looked over her shoulder and he wanted more than ever for Sasuke to be there and see the woman she had become — and she only nodded.

"That's why we need the trackers." Sakura said with a piece of cloth between her lips and then pointing with the fingers of one hand, before picking up the cigarette and tying her hair, without looking away from the body. "North, south, east, west." 

"Only four?"

"Yes and you have to pick the best."

Kakashi seemed to pop from thin air. No one even heard him open the door or walk on them. "You have to pick those who will survive. They have to survive, to send us info, detailed info, but I wanted them all alive. So you will pick the best of the best. I want more than the elite. If we say the Black Ops are the best, scratch that, find me better. Check the Anbu commanders, the Jounin Elite commanders, fuck, candidates to Hokage. Go through all the ANBU files, The Foundation's, anything."

"But these are —"

"Confidential? What are you now, Shikamaru? Stupid?" He winced at Kakashi's tone. He never discounted his frustration on his subordinates as he always took everything on himself. 'That's what being a Hokage is. Taking and bearing the burden.' But right now he seemed beyond angry. The clouds outside were getting darker and, yes, Sakura and Naruto used to forget how he created a storm at the bell test. "What do you want to hear, Nara? That I rent you permission? Because that is pretty fucking obvious and needless to be said." 

With one fist Kakashi hit the table Shikamaru was leaning and one of the legs broke and the table was shaking. That's when Sakura noticed Kakashi's dark circles under his eyes: he hadn't been drinking. 

Fuck.

"What else, General?" Tsunade sputtered. Somehow, Sakura expected a reprimand. He wasn't giving the orders to her and he felt his gaze changing and she could already taste the stick to your work, the rudeness he rarely spared, but they had to take in. They all had. 

"How many bodies?" 

"Sixty two."

"Retrieve them. All."

"Why?"

Naruto's voice came from the door and all eyes followed it — three pairs pitied him for walking in such a time. 

Until his eyes turned dark when he saw Hyugo's corpse.

"Why is he dead?" The rumble of the Nine Tails was behind the anger of his voice. Naruto wasn't done with Hyugo. He still had information he would beat out of him.

"He wouldn't say shit anymore." Sakura spoke around her cigarette, her hands back inside the body.

"He would —"

"He wouldn't say shit anymore." Sakura's voice was stronger, like a tornado ready to decapitate those who won't move out of her way. Naruto wanted to say more, but she was indeed a T&I specialist. Still, his anger didn't subside. It only grew.

"This is no time for teaching, Naruto. Either you know what to do or people die." 

Naruto had seen Kakashi worked up plenty of times, considering he was in Team 7, but seeing him worked up out of the battlefield was always quite a scene. His voice was deep and resonated through the room, no matter how low or high he came to speak — at the moment, he wasn't talking low at all. His voice was always strong and rumbled, just throwing right back at your face he was the Sixth Hokage and it takes a lot not to shrink in his presence. Yet, you didn't bow out of fear, but out of respect.

"What got you so riled up from a second to another, uh?" 

The thing is: Naruto doesn't learn to respect someone that earned its place as his superior. 

"We were just talking —"

"Because people are dying!" Kakashi yelled and finished breaking the table. Sakura rose to her feet, leaving the corpse. Both Tsunade and Shikamaru took a step back. Kakashi and Naruto weren't facing one another — yet — and Tsunade, honestly, wanted to slap some sense into Naruto for being reckless and childish. "Just today, in one miscalculated ambush, over 50 people died, Naruto! And you think you can solve things just barking in and spanking the man, uh? Just make tons of shadow clones and spam Rasengan until you win? I'm not even — And now I have less than one day to track them and have a minimal chance of something, anything because we've been stuck for months and you, you… you're still naive enough to care about Sasuke! At this rate!"

"Of fucking course I still care about him! I —"

"Made a promise? Stop that. Grow up. For fuck's sake. You've grown, Naruto, you did. But sometimes you are so fucking naive. It is the first lead in months and you still have it in you to —"

"I won't turn my back on a —"

"He was never your friend!" Shikamaru for once yelled. 

Shikamaru never yelled.

There was no time for anyone to turn his eyes to him as Naruto made the greatest mistake people always kept on making:

"You did it. You turned your back and that's why this is happening. If you, Kakashi-sensei, hadn't turned your back on Rin none of this would've ever happened."

It happened in a blur. In a moment Naruto was standing tall, barking with no teeth, just out of his dippers to hurt Kakashi, calling him in into pain even though he knew how much it hurt to be the one to blame for the big picture, principalmente when it comes to the end of the world. The next moment Kakashi's hand was yelling, birds and death promises, and Naruto was glued to the wall and even though everyone knew he was stronger there was nothing there to fight when it came to this. 

There were four things people shouldn't touch about Kakashi: his father, Rin, Obito and — Sakura. 

(Because he killed Sakura. 

And no one but the both of them and those who died that day could know about it.)

Kakashi's hands were shaking and his breath was ragged. He probably wasn't able to write his own name without messing up the whole paper, his head must be killing him and his mood was all fucked up, making him temperamental in a way that left Tsunade in the shadows. He was indeed an alcoholic and he was trying to detox. It wasn't working as well as they planned. They had it already laid in front of them: just use the minimum; you put yourself there; deal with it and don't harm anyone in the way there.

"Hatake!" Tsunade stormed out from her place, but stopped dead in her tracks with the way he looked at her. It wasn't a comrade or a friend. It was her superior. Goddamn fuck. It took him a second to drop Naruto and turn his gaze away from everybody. 

"Shikamaru!"

"Yes, sir!"

"As said, find me four men and I will arrange to get them here in a second." He ran his shaking hands through his face. Sakura wondered if he had really thrown away the last bottle. 

"You will have to prepare three battle strategies and a plus escape route for each. Each man and each battle. Offensive only if we can get there in five minutes. You have until tomorrow. Everything depends on it." 

Now Shikamaru understood why he was there. Kakashi probably already had some sketches, some skeleton of plans, but he had so much in his hands he was surprised the man hadn't fallen asleep while standing (which he did, a lot) or confused everyone's names and called Kiba, Hinata (he also did it, a lot. Especially confusing Shino with Ino, but that's expected, except when he manages to confuse faces as well after spending five days without sleeping — that once caused him to call Shizune Shino and ask Ino to help him with stacking poisonous kunais and earned a black eye as stabbed her ass with a senbom thinking he was messing with Genma. On the same day he also proceeded to crash at Gai's place and steal all of Lee's food, also calling him Akamaru. He apologised and said he never quite learnt the name of the new generation, but Anko bit him for all the times he called her not only Yugao but Tenzo as well).

Living off soldier pills keeps you alive for a certain period of time, even that shit Sakura cooked, that tasted like vomit and horse's shit, but was effective. No one dared to question it after months. It tasted like every nightmare they ever had, but even Tsunade praised her.

Although, given their location, Sakura's pills would turn to be more and more aggressive to their system. She would be running out of plants and her herbs were in enemy territory and stacked back at home. They couldn't leave just now, they needed something. Shikamaru needed to give them something.

It made perfect sense: if they ambushed them they knew where they were; if they knew where they were, they just needed to trace them back. Three times harder, but possible. Although, as Kakashi said, it had to be done as fast as possible. They had a day at maximum until they lost the faintest trait. The ideal would be to deal with them within hours, but that might not be possible.

That was going to be troublesome.

"I am losing it. I don't know if I can deal with all this shit. Being a Hokage wasn't supposed to be like this."

"It is supposed to be exactly just like that, Naruto." The wide blue eyes looked at his professor with a painful plea. "This is the world we live in. This is the world we fight for. You give orders, you send people on missions — sometimes you send them knowing they will die. Most of the time it is about death and despair and there will come the day you will come to realise it."

"But Kakashi-sensei—"

Kakashi stopped him with just his hand. 

"Don't call me that no more. I am not your sensei anymore, Naruto. You are not a child, a gennin. You are a ninja."

"Sometimes I fucking wish I wasn't."

"What happened to being the greatest ninja of all time?"

"It isn't that. It definitely isn't that. Not killing. Not... not burying my comrades without even knowing their proper names. Not just realising someone is dead in the aftermath, when you call 'em and they don't answer."

"We've been doing this for years now, Naruto. Why is this bothering you now? Was it because you were the Captain?" 

Kakashi was tired. His voice was much more dragged than usual and he kept flexing his hands. 

"How do you do it?" Naruto's voice was nothing but a whisper.

"I don't know." He leaned into the wall, one feet propped, his head touching the wall, looking up. "I guess you bury it all, pretend you don't see it and you do it as far as you can. You take this with you for as long as possible. This is the usual lie everybody says, isn't it? The usual Foundation bullshit. It is easy for me, I grew up in this world. Now for you?"

Naruto was looking even more at loss than before. 

"I do bury it." He answered like it was the right thing to say. Like there was the right thing to say. "It is the only way, isn't it? Ever since. We learnt. We all did. But still… I guess I had dreams."

"We are assassins. Your dreams can only go so far."

"I thought the hat had some, some magic to it. Like it had the power to make it better. But when we had to knee in front of the old man with dry blood on my eyebrows, that fucking hat was a joke." He hadn't dry blood on his eyebrows today because the sweat wiped it off. But the blood from yesterday was still to come out. "A shame I couldn't burn it."

Kakashi lifted one eyebrow and snorted. It was hard to get Kakashi to laugh when he was sober. He didn't even read all that much, not as he did when they were kids. But then again nothing was as when they were kids. 

"It is only a hat. And it only casts a shadow over your face."

Only casts a shadow over your face. 

"After all," he began to roll the cigarette, "the only difference between a shinobi and a criminal is that the former is loyal to a hidden village and the latter isn't."

Naruto wondered if Sasuke just didn't get it before they all did. He was a ninja, a rogue one. But he was a criminal, wasn't he? Although, the only difference between Naruto and Sasuke was that Naruto's hitai-ate didn't have any scratch on it. They did the same things, ever since they were kids to now.

Well, did. 

"So, I bottle it up. Like… like Sasuke did."

Kakashi's sigh was something palpable in the air.

"And then" he looked at Naruto and shrugged the same way he did when he was five "you cry."

"You cry?" Naruto repeated, as he didn't trust his ears.

"Yes, you cry." As Sasuke did. "And don't come with the bullshit that ninja don't cry. We're human, before everything. So yes, Naruto, we go home and we cry then we pick ourselves up again and keep going. We are immoral."

"That much I've been thinking recently. I don't think Pain's words will ever leave me." 

Kakashi didn't ask why Naruto didn't  call him Nagato. Pain was Pain and certain things Pain said and Pain did. Pain was a God and Nagato was a scared child. You can't have both. 

"We killed his family so he hated us. He killed Jiraiya so I hated him. He killed you" the word was heavy like a bar crushing them into the ground "and he destroyed the entire village and killed so, so many people and I hated him. But Yahiko was killed and so were his parents and many others. Who was wrong and who was right? Shisui told me we fight seeking justice, but is there anything remotely taken as justice now? We fight for our own, but so do they. We are terrorists too. That wasn't a slaughter. That was divine punishment."

Naruto had grown taller and his whiskers were now scars. Kakashi hadn't grown a centimeter, but had now multiple new scars. They all had. Minato had new scars now and he and Naruto were so much alike, with their Rasengan promising death and now Naruto wasn't that child anymore. 

Life had killed Naruto Uzumaki. 

"One may commit necessary evil and be praised for what he had to do so, what had to be done, but in essence, they might be regarded as cruel and inhumane. Perhaps it all boils down to the intentions of the people committing morally conflicting acts." Kakashi said with all the years his appearance didn't tell. "No matter how many times we wash our hands, the blood won't come out. Do you think shinobi deserve forgiveness?"

Naruto gave him a dry, small laugh. 

"Don't I?" He looked up at Kakashi, his blue eyes no more tearful or sunny. He was a man ruined and that was okay. "I am the Naruto, the boy that forgives and forgets, am I not?"

"I don't know, Naruto. You have to tell me that. How low can you sink? How much can you take?"

How a person can be a hero in one eye and a villain in another. The very contrast between heroism and villainy. How much a single person can endure before breaking.

How much death and despair by succumbing to the cycle of vengeance can truly cause.

The breaking point of shinobi.

What will they decide once their hopes and will are crushed by dirt, will they continue to fight in the name of rectitude or will they stray from their path for one of despair?

They stood in silence in the corridor for a while, listening afar what was said behind the door — it shouldn't be supposed to, as it was an interrogation room, but apparently cracking the wall breaks a bit of the sound proof. 

"How do I do it? Just — how? I don't know if I can bottle up, not really. I am not like you or like Tsunade or like my father."

Kakashi offered Naruto a cigarette quietly which the boy took without a word. 

"Have you ever smoked before?" He asked plainly. 

"Yes and you were there."

Kakashi nodded, passing his lighter to Naruto after the puffs of smoke he made. 

The boy started to fidget and was about to speak, demand, beg. 

"You are, Naruto. You've done it so far."

"Sasuke died."

He stated. Deadpanned, emotionless, like a soldier. 

"Sasuke died." Kakashi repeated, nodding, his tone a bit lighter. 

"How does that make me, make me anything but garbage if I couldn't save the only person I kept swearing I would bring home?" 

Naruto's speech was shallow. He was no longer Sasuke's puppy, but he still couldn't let go. Everyday, more and more, they had to bite their tongues every time they even considered calling Sasuke a criminal. 

It was about loyalty. 

What was Naruto loyal to, in the end? The Village or his friends? What was Sasuke? Himself, revenge, any psychotic excuse he found to travel so far? 

Sasuke died a pathetic death and it was hard to mourn. In the late years, Sasuke became the boy who cried wolf and he had died too many times and they saved him, only to get backstabbed again. Until all he had left was Naruto. 

Then he left and Naruto stayed. 

And now it was over.

Naruto still had tears in his big blue eyes, but seemed adamant on not letting them fall this time. His eyes sparkled, as they always did. His hair was too long now, tied at a ponytail at his neck, a few strands falling loose, burn marks around his face and the tear marks were stained into his dusted cheeks. From time to time, Kakashi looked at him and saw those tears, but he never saw Naruto cry anymore and it didn't seem like he was posing as a macho man. It was a resemblance to Sakura, as if he cried his vision could get blurred and someone might die for his fault. The two of them never cried. 

Sometimes he wishes they did.

Naruto was such a copy of Obito. The fucking crybaby Obito. The late and loud I-am-going-to-be-Hokage Obito. The dead Obito. The Obito, who declared war on the Shinobi world and died in Kakashi's arms, just like Rin did. Fucking Obito and his two-times death.

Fuck the Uchiha clan and their two times death. 

And now there was Sasuke. 

Naruto wanted to cry about him, but he probably couldn't. Not now. He probably just did it anyway, but it was not like they had time to mourn. One day, Sasuke was dead. The other, they were under attack. Their autopsies were never finished. And that left room for doubts. Sasuke died too many times, but that time, it felt real. And yet, his files were now a pile of dead fire — probably. They don't know. They didn't set foot into that part of their own territory ever since the last attack. Sasuke could be alive, for all they knew. But they knew it was too much to hope for. 

They didn't even know if there was someone out there to hope for.

Kakashi sighed.

"Have I ever told you about Rin?"

Naruto took a drag, his eyes burning, but tears retreating. Not just because he didn't want to cry, but because he couldn't. He didn't have the time. Not now. He just had to wait for Sakura or Tsunade to finish mending Hyugo so they could beat up his ass to his chin until he spoke. 

He just shook his head. 

Kakashi sat on the floor and set his head on the wall again, his eyes forever glued to the ceiling, the cigarette shaking, the ashes dropping in his lap.

"When Obito died I promised him, as his death wish, his last wish on earth, I would take care of her. Then, she died by my hands. We were ambushed. It was all Madara's plan, but couldn’t have known back there, none of us. He made her the jinchuriki of the Three Tails and planned on turning her against the village. She decided to sacrifice herself. She didn't communicate that to me. I would never allow it, I would go back and forth through hell if it meant keeping her alive. But she jumped in front of me and died by my hands." There was a pregnant pause where Naruto thought it was the end of the story and he assumed Kakashi only wanted to outburst. "I will never be able to erase from my mind her face, Naruto." His grey eyes fell upon him and the boy saw so many things there he couldn't put a finger in none of them. It was too much. He wondered how much that man had cried in his life. He wondered how he never had the same marks Itachi had. "And I couldn't come to peace because I promised to Obito I would protect her and I fucking killed her." 

He lit another cigarette on the dying tip of his own and offered Naruto another which he took without knowing he wanted. When the nicotine hit the back of his throat again, he understood why so many smoked. Nicotine has its charm on calming you while dragging you. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered to the cigarette. 

He knew about Obito's death. How Kakashi still counted himself responsible for. But that sounded like grief and guilt decided to attach themselves to his sensei and watch him perish.

"Don't be. It was her choice. And I was selfish enough to make it about myself instead of making it about her." His chest rumbled in a short dying laugh Naruto never heard before.

"I mourned over my loss more than over her death."

They heard a very loud cracking noise coming from the room they left and Naruto wondered how they would heal the man if they kept breaking his bones. He shrugged. The more he suffered, the better. 

"You promised Sakura you would bring Sasuke back, right?"

"That's not the same as" promising to keep someone alive and then killing the "what happened to you."

"No, it isn't. But I also promised Sakura, on the rooftop, everything would be back to the way it was. And it never did. It just got worse. And I used to torture myself over it."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Naruto said, heartedly, almost burning Kakashi's face with his cigarette with his ample movement. "You can't take upon your shoulders such a promise —"

His voice died and Kakashi smiled. 

He rose to his feet and tried to dust it off his pants.

"You've grown, Naruto."

"Being a Hokage… is not just how I thought it was due to the innocence a kid has, but about the true nature of it. It is not shaking hands and just signing papers. When I look at you — sometimes, even looking at Tsunade I saw those immense papers and thought that was a bitch and I would be revolutionary, but there is no revolution. Even though, I guess I like the papers."

"You? Liking papers? Are you feeling alright?" Kakashi laughed his fake laugh Naruto grew to recognise. 

"Papers mean you are behind the desk and if you are behind the desk things are "good" enough for you to be there. Now I see how you are so good as a Hokage."

"And why is that?"

"You, my father and Tsunade. You all — you all are good at killing." He gave an unnamused chuckle. "It makes me think of our very first days, when I couldn't even hit the targets because my hands were shaking so much. And I couldn't wrap my mind about the concept that being a ninja means killing. That's what ninja are. That's what we are. That's what Hokages are. In the end, we are just military camps full with child soldiers trying to make out to see only the good part."

"Don't you think you're a little too pessimistic?"

"Am I wrong?"

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his chin. He had a light beard now. He liked it. It was nice to stretch it when he was alone, it was good to have one part of his face bloodless no matter what the day was like. 

"No."

"I tried to forge my own path, my ninja way. And it works, it is real. I never go back on my word, no matter what. But… I can no longer keep the promise I made to myself and to Zabuza that I wouldn't be a reckless, heartless killer. Look at me now! I kill, what?, at least, when we're at really good days, 50 people per day and will do the same tomorrow and the day after that." He laughed and crushed the cigarette between his thumb and indicator88. "When people would tell me about War I thought it was just a word. A big word that meant bad things, but now… I wish I could have foreseen it."

"You cannot see the future nor change the past, Naruto." Kakashi messed up his hair. "The answer is as simple as two plus two: Growing up and moving on, learning to live with the pain of betrayal and loss, learning to let go of the past and accepting nothing will ever be the same."

"So that's it for us, uh?"

"That's it. Sasuke is dead. And so is Rin and Obito and a whole bunch of people and so many more can die. We can die. We could've died today."

He began to walk away and entered the room.

Naruto realised a few weeks later it was the first time he called Tsunade by her name and not "Granny". And it felt right, for once.

seven years before

Naruto.

Was his first thought as he woke up that morning. He had to check the clock to make sure it was morning or not as the sky was a dark gray resembling the end of the day or the dawn. 0705 it read. The sun should've risen already, but it seemed the clouds wouldn't allow it. 

He kept staring at his ceiling for an hour, questioning if this was real or not. For the past month, every time he opened his eyes, he questioned whether it was reality he was seeing in front of him. He couldn't tell the difference sometimes and he knew his panic attacks were beginning to show.

His back hurt and his neck was stiff. He was lying in such an uncomfortable position, but he didn't want to move at all. Despite the sour mood of the weather, the wind was blowing sweetly and he was tired. He wished he could drift off to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. All that was making him sleep lately was the pills Tsunade gave him. And all that was making him get of the bed was the pills Tsunade gave him. And all that was made him do so many things were her pills. 

Putting his feet on the cold floor, he settled his mind in reality. So this was real. He was home and he was alone, no blood on the walls and no screams in his ears. 

Naruto.

His mind kept backtracking to him no matter what. 

He was the first one to notice. 

It was a stupid practice, just a warm up, when he hit Sakura's shoulder and an arteries, accidentally. His aim was perfect, so how he mistaken Sakura for a trunk was afar him. 

To his surprise, she didn't cry. Sakura sighed and summoned green chakra to her hand, making the blood spill a little less intensely, but, still, it hit Naruto's face and Kakashi's flak jacket, as well as soaked her hand. 

"You did good," Kakashi said impressed "but I will take you to —"

"No." Sakura said with hard eyes, but her voice wasn't squeaky as always or spoiled. She sounded like a real kunoichi and that was making it all worse — but it was astonishing all at the same. "No need for infirmary or shit. Stitch it for me."

Kakashi stopped for a second, about to argue, but then stitched her arm and she just closed her eyes. 

The blood was still much more than any of them would expect for a simple warm up stupid practice, but she shrugged off and righted her posture, back to her target. He could have sworn he saw Kakashi smile, but his vision was cloudy. 

He could feel the blood that left Sakura's arm leaving his face as well just as the air was leaving his lungs. Seeing Naruto's face covered in blood, Kakashi's hands and clothes as well as Sakura's seemed to send a straight message to his brain that was filled with blood on the walls, floor, bodies and people falling dead at his feet.

The air wasn't entering his lungs and he felt he was going to die. He threw a kunai far into the woods and went to pick it without uttering a word. Kakashi's eye followed his every move so he tried to walk with all the calm in the world when all he wanted to do was scream. 

He didn't notice when Naruto's hand touched his shoulder. 

"Sasuke," he was ready to launch at him, call him names, beat the shit out of him, run away, Chidori him, anything, but "I brought you some water. You seem dehydrated." 

And he just smiled. 

"Didn't think you knew such a long word." Sasuke uttered under his breath, drinking the water like a man lost in the desert his whole life. 

"Oi, asshole. Of course I know this word. Sakura taught me like two days ago when I thought I was dying. And you are such an ungrateful bitch —"

"Thank you, Naruto."

Naruto's face should be framed for eternity as Sasuke never saw him so shocked and wordless. Before he could say anything else, he walked away, breathing in and out as a woman from the hospital taught him when he would have panic attacks. 

So, Naruto, from all people in the world, was the one that noticed he was broken after what Itachi did to him. Again. 

He thought he could stay in the Village. He could learn in the Village, with his friends, he could overcome his revenge or, at least, don't chase it by himself like a stupid maniac. He created bonds. Team 7 was his family, after all those years of loneliness. Even Sakura was, because today Sakura wasn't day one Sakura. Today Sakura was as much of a killer as he was. Even Sakura understood the world now. Even Sakura received several abuses in the Forest of Death, to protect them. 

But now his mind was wrecked, broken, shattered. Tsunade woke him up, brought him back, but he was nothing but a shell now. 

After four sleepless nights, he had to knock on the Hokage's door and ask if she had anything to help him. She gave him his pills and now he could sleep without the nightmares, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. He knew killing Itachi wouldn't kill the nightmares either. A part of him knew vengeance wouldn't change a thing, because his parents were dead and killing his brother wouldn't bring them back, but he had to do it. Most of the time, he couldn't reason with himself the true reason why. 

Death would be too good for Itachi. Death brings shit. But that was his duty, he lived his life with this goal. It didn't matter what came after. It didn't matter if he died in the same fight. He only wanted to destroy Itachi, rip him apart. Because that was what he was supposed to do.

That's what he lived his whole life for, so if he ever took it out of him, what would be left? 

Maybe Naruto. Maybe even Sakura and Kakashi. Maybe even his pack that he had to admit he was fond of, even if they hated him at first sight and it was mutual. Maybe even the Hidden Leaf 11, the Rookie 9, the Village, park banks and the smell of food. 

(Maybe even the blood Sakura had in her hands, dry and covered in mud to disguise it when she hugged Hinata after a mission. 

Sakura was made of blood herself. Her hair was the water running through the drain when your body was being washed out after a rough mission, when you were covered in blood. Her clothes were the gore itself that escaped all the lifeless bodies they left behind. Her skin was the very pale skin of their victims, dead, too pale after Sakura's clothes ran off them, too stiff, too dead. The scraps on her knees were the remains of those who dared trying to run, the trees marked with despair, the explosive tags they caught in the way. But her eyes, her eyes should be the opposite, her eyes should hold some life. 

Sasuke always thought that Sakura's eyes were the strongest weapon in her arsenal, shining bright under the sky, reflecting the flowers above the grass and under the trees she learnt to pick and turn into beautiful gifts and love promises, exploding like fireworks and better days. Until he saw the contrast of green and gore and the white of a smile underneath, the fog of being caught in a genjutsu turning into the victory of breaking free and the malice of enjoying the enemies' pain turning his weapon against him. 

Every time Sakura looked deep into his eyes he couldn't help but see that the very chakra that came from her healing hands was the same that focused on her killing and ripping throats like she usually peels apples when he's in the hospital. 

Maybe Sakura is dead and maybe that's why he wants to stay. 

Naruto was the equivalent with his blue eyes that matched his Rasengan that completely destroyed and turned people into dust — or just left holes the size of a growing tree trunk. Naruto's hair was the sun that always shined upon them and showed what they'd done, the mess they left behind, the trait to follow, the red trait that led precisely to them. If someone's eye follows the trait of blood they would find them at the end, all glory and gore, like animals — but aren't people animals? Yes, they are.

His orange jumpsuit was nothing but a reminder of when he peeled oranges under the trees after training with his kunais, imagining Itachi, but never quite realizing how much the blood sticks in your hands and if you grab an orange it will only taste like cover and you will be eating death. Naruto's eyes used to be annoying to look at, always too bright and happy, too naive, chanting he would never be a ninja because he would never be able to kill. Some days, Sasuke felt like he was the one truly soft and naive at all.

Seeing your clan slaughtered at your feet when you're seven should make you much tougher, but those two just proved him wrong time and time again. They threw themselves into danger, they didn't hesitate anymore in the face of brutal kill, they weren't mere children any more. None of them. 

The day they introduced themselves, Sasuke Uchiha was cold and calculated, Naruto Uzumaki was loud and pathetic and Sakura Haruno was insane and annoying. Their sensei, Kakashi Hatake was slop and incompetent to be his mentor in his path to his dream. 

The very next day, Kakashi began to prove him wrong when he stepped in his head, making him taste grass. In their very first mission, Kakashi proved him wrong in all the possible senses as he felt the need to kill himself when he felt the intensity of his power. His fucking sensei wasn't only a legend, he owned his title. Seeing him fight made the hairs of his neck rise and his clothes ticking his skin. Staring at his back, he wondered how dangerous his sharingan would look compared to Itachi's. Sasuke wasn't sure if he wanted to see it — he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to look into Itachi's eyes again. But he had to. And for someone at such a young age, Sasuke shouldn't have so many burdens on his shoulders — he should know how much Kakashi had in his at his very same age just as Itachi. But Itachi was a murderer and he didn't know shit about Kakashi, so the world kept spinning around him.

He was able to fight in harmony with Naruto and the next day Naruto came in later to the fight because he had to kill two enemies that held hostage their host, his whiskers already reddish, his knuckles already hurt. They fought Haku like savages, like lions trapped in a cage, biting and tearing apart their tamer as he poked them. Haku was much better than they were and Sasuke thought he was the very best, the cream at the top, the cut above, but he was shit compared to the boy. He was nothing but a voodoo doll, his eyes and body too slow. 

Naruto was loud, but not as loud as he usually was. As death whispers in your ears, you learn to talk lower so maybe it can't hear you anymore. 

Naruto wasn't playing, wasn't asking for attention, wasn't playing a role for the Hokage title. He was fighting. His eyes that held sapphire to weigh him down focused, trying to read through Haku, maybe even trying to think about Kakashi-sensei and Sakura. 

For a speck of a second, Sasuke dared to look outside to see them and he would have it imprinted in his mind forever. Supposedly, Kakashi was to be fighting, gracious and dangerous, almost roaring, snarling, all teeth and all bite — and he was. Bleeding, but smiling. Zabuza didn't look quite so happy, bleeding as well, his eyes set on fire. There was too much fog to see anything properly, but it was impossible to miss crimson red. 

The same way Kakashi was able to be recognizable due red, blue-gray in his hand and his dark jonin uniform, Sakura was recognizable due red, as well. She wore a red outfit, after all. And she had red splashed all over her. 

The bridge builder had eyes wide and couldn't quite believe the tiny girl, with pink hair and blushing cheeks was now with a kunai deep into a man's eye, his hands choking her while she managed to pull another kunai from her pocket and this time embed it through his trachea. A second later, he couldn't see much of her, as she had to run to the side of the bridge, chakra control on her feet, to protect the man from another assault. 

Sasuke had to bring his attention back when Haku hit him with seven senbon. 

And as he thought he was to face death, he awakened his sharingan; he awakened his sharingan for Naruto, Kakashi, Sakura, Haku and Zabuza. As he lay there dying he told Naruto about his revenge, about his brother — about his dream that would never be fulfilled because he decided to die for his teammates and he couldn't find it in himself to regret. 

When he woke up with Sakura crying over him, staining him with too much blood, when he opened his eyes to face hers — her weapon has still there, the sound of a thousand fireworks ripping the sky and his skin apart, shining too bright and so loud, like an aurora borealis and he could see himself, his souls, all of them, his staggered breathes, singing like leaves that trap you when you fall face to the floor in a genjutsu — and she wasn't looking at him admiringly, that was only relief. She turned around and smiled at Naruto, who was still at his feet, bright despite it all and she extended her hand and the three of them stood there for a moment before raising to their feet to face the reality of their actions and what their life was to be from now on.)

Yet, he had to avoid the Southern part of the Village, near the Uchiha Compound. 

At first, he began to avoid his house, for obvious reasons, but it began to grow with time. It was so long from the last time he'd been there, he wouldn't remember which closet he left his toys or if his parents bed really had a stain or if he dreamt about it. But, with time, he had to avoid it more and more, until he couldn't enter the Compound without feeling haunted by the ghosts. Now, he couldn't even be in that part of the Village, the part the Uchiha Compound and former Police Force once were. In all honesty, he tried to avoid a quarter of the Village. 

He wondered, some days, if it would come the day he would feel the need to avoid the whole Village because it was too painful — but he was tired of running. He was tired of running away from his memories and running away from his fear.  

No matter how much he claimed, he lived his life in fear, not revenge. He had to be good enough to kill a man that killed his whole clan. That killed his father, that was their leader, the strongest Uchiha of the clan. He had to be that strong, and he didn't know if he was ready or if he would ever be. 

He not only hated Itachi, but feared him. And he hated himself for it. 

Shinobi shouldn't be afraid, it made them weak. He remembered how that almost got him killed at the Forest of Death, when Naruto and his eyes saved him.

"You're not hurt, are you, scary cat?"

He should fucking hate Naruto for that, but he couldn't. Because Naruto saved his life and Sakura's and he knew that Naruto knew about the Curse Mark because something inside Naruto could smell it on him and he didn't know if that made Naruto earn his respect or just made him scared — again. Because matter, not Orochimaru or Itachi, the red cloud over Naruto, the one he'd seen at Zabuza's fight and at the Forest was much more evil, much more raw than both of them combined. Yet, Naruto never turned against him. He just saved him again and again and again. 

And when he tried to fucking save Naruto he came face to face with Itachi and all he did, all he trained had gone to waste. His Chidori was nothing but a lonely bird at five in the morning, before the sunrise, while Itachi's flames were the sun trying to combust the entire Earth. 

Now, what was the Village? What was there left for him? He couldn't keep playing with them, he couldn't keep them there, while Itachi was getting stronger eveyday and he was just a child. At his age, his brother had killed everyone and all he did was ruin a wall and had his bones broken. 

The most pathetic part is that he wanted to stay. He was, for the first time in seven years, happy. Just as happy as he could be, but he was. He fucking loved them, not that he would ever admit, but he did. Every time he looked at the Team 7 picture he wanted to throw it at the wall at the same time he wanted to sunk his feet into that fucking leaves and s t a y. 

He wouldn't, though. He couldn't.

Sasuke was about to pack his stuff, when he stepped on a glass and it sunk deep into his feet and, once again, the blood on the carpet made him want to scream.

He didn't notice he was screaming until Sakura slapped his face, her green eyes so close to his and her voice was saying "Snap out of it!" with tears in it. 

When he finally broke free from it, she had both hands on his shoulders and, even though she was crying, her short hair made her look like someone else. Not like Sakura, but like someone else. Maybe they should find another flower to name her after. She didn't look 13; nor did he or Naruto for that cost. None of them. When he looked at the Rookie 9, they looked so much younger than the three of them and he couldn't put his finger on whether this was good or bad. They had so much blood in their hands already, didn't they?

"What are you doing here?" He listened to his own voice saying, his voice strained. 

"I came by to drop some other pills. Lady Hokage is working on them so they don't make you dependent on them."

"How do you know about my pills?" 

Sasuke rose from his feet, anger already creeping to his skin. 

"I don't know what they are for." Sakura stood up as well, not shaken at all at his harsh tone. Sasuke was rude 90% of the time so it was no surprise. "She just asked me to drop these for you when I went there to grab mine. I was going just to leave them, but" her green eyes always seemed to know so much about him nowadays, even if he knew she didn't know anything. From the four of them, Sakura was the one that knew less "you were" screaming "not ok, so I got in and had to see how you were."

Sasuke didn't know if he was grateful or not for Sakura not voicing the fact he was having a panic attack that shook him out of reality. 

"How did you manage to get in? The house is well guarded?"

She scrunched her nose before answering. 

"Sometimes I can bribe Kakashi-sensei enough for him to teach me fuinjutsu. Your seals are good, but you have to work on them." Sakura smirked. "But you have our chakra signature on certain points, so we can come in depending on how good we are or the momentum. I just happen to manage both." 

Sasuke was in the kitchen and Sakura was running her fingers through the furniture, lost more in its shapes than trying to pry on his life. 

"When did you turn out to be good at something?"

Even if her back turned to him he could hear her jaw settle and her teeth grit. 

(Little did he know that once he left the Village, Sakura would fully become Tsunade's apprentice, developing her potential in record time, granting her the title of chunin just in a spackle of months and her leadership and success rate in missions caused her good fame. Sakura was more intelligent than Sasuke and he seemed to like to forget that, but some people didn't — like Genma, that once was her captain in a mission and noticed how good she was for someone in a such a young age "this days, at least", he said and when he covered his face again with his Anbu mask, she had to try to get in. 

At first, the Black Ops looked down on her like she was insane, they knew she was Hatake senpai former student and she didn't shake that fame off completely, so she had to work harder. Much harder. And it was then that she found out that fixing bones wasn't what would get her in — it was the very opposite. 

"Despite being medic-nin, we don’t know any jutsu that could take pain away. People think there is one, because when we start to heal them, the pain always subsides. That’s not a painkiller. It’s just the aftereffect of healing something. When you have a broken bone it hurts like hell, so when you fix it, when you put it back in place, it feels like you are taking the pain away. It isn’t like that. You are just fixing things, putting them back into their place. That doesn’t mean you are taking the actual pain away. That’s why we do have medicine, we do have painkillers, we do have morphine, we do have chemicals that are specifically for pain. Ninja are just stupid. They think we are goddesses. We’re not. We are medic. We don’t perform miracles. You can’t just glow your hand into a dying patient that has cancer and just make the pain go away. You have to keep this in mind. We are human beings. We need to feel pain. It’s natural.”

Tsunade said this to her after two months of training. She gave Sakura a broken finger and told her to fix it. 

One boy was complaining about pain and Sakura said “It will go away as soon as I’m done here”. To these words Tsunade gave her a very, very nasty glance. She gulped. She said some wrong shit. She was just thirteen, for heaven’s sake. All the knowledge she had of Medicine was the basic they taught at the Academy. They give you the basics for emergency cases. Truth be told, it was completely useless, just to give them a false sense of comfort. But when she was training under Tsunade, she realised she knew nothing at all. 

She showed her how to amend bones, how to subside pain, how to take poison out of a patient's body and the most important: how to break bones, how to cause pain and how to insert poison.

So Sakura used her medical knowledge on the field, not only to heal, but to incapacitate as well. She was proving she was worthy, she wasn't Kakashi's little girl anymore, but Tsunade's apprentice if that was what it would take to get her in. 

After countless missions the ANBU would take her in, as Tsunade's protegé, into their labs to develop chemical weapons, until she became jounin, only one and a half year later she became chunin. A title that, at the time, she shared with Neji alone. 

They started as Black Ops the same day and had their first mission together. He was the first one to see her crying under that mask, but the first one of the Konoha 12 to see how easy it was for her to kill, as well. 

She was so much more than they told her she was.)

Sakura didn't turn to Sasuke when she answered. 

"It's been quite awhile already."

"Hn."

She fought her urge to roll her eyes. 

"Here are your pills. The blue ones are to take at night and the white ones are just for when you need them. And these" she took huge green balls from a purse and put them at the table "are for you to take once a day."

He frowned. 

"I didn't take those" he pointed with his chin to the big green balls "before."

Sakura shrugged. "I don't know what you were taking before, as I said already. But those are some vitamin complexes among other hormones and some plants as far as I can tell."

They both fell into silence after that and Sakura bit her lip so hard it began to bleed. She just noticed when she felt it dripping to her chin. 

"Shit."

"Here, take this." He threw a sheet to her and she thanked with her head even though she was going to fix it with the basic chakra healing she learnt. 

"When did you learn that —"

"We can help you." Sakura cut his attempt to small talk that was only making her uncomfortable. Sasuke doesn't do small talk. He doesn't do talk at all. She could tell he was ashamed she found him screaming. 

When the silence stretched and he got a dumb expression in his face (oh, she wanted a camera. That photo would pay rent for years) she answered his original question. "After the chunin exams, when Ino knocked me down. I decided to learn something useful and then Lady Hokage kind of helps me, even though, well, I wouldn't call it really help, but, yeah."

He kept his dumbfounded expression in his face and Sakura had to fight a blush or the urge to run away, but she settled it in her mind that she would tell him that and wouldn't leave until he listened to her. 

(Two years later when he woke up from a nightmare full of orange and black blood and he couldn't scream because Orochimaru couldn't hear, he wished he had listened.)

Sakura waited. She leaned against the sink, almost sitting at the top of it, the tip of her toes at the floor, folded her hands at her lap and waited for him, who was looking somewhere behind her head. 

"What?" He said after quite a while.

"I said I learnt after the chunin exams and that" she spoke very slowly, in the tone Kakashi used with them when he was really trying to explain something they didn't understand quite yet, so he had to take his time and choose his words, speak with pauses and intonation in every word "we want to help you." As we want to help you it was the most complicated thing to understand in the world. And, for Sasuke, it was. 

He kept staring at her, his dark eyes held so much intensity she wanted to recoil and shrink into herself, just roll herself to a fetal position and stay there. But she wouldn't do that anymore, she wouldn't be afraid of Sasuke or let him walk over her. She was as much of a shinobi as him — and she didn't need a clan and a dojutsu to be a good one; she was going to work her way there.

"What even is there to help?" Was what he said eventually, his tone bored as ever, arrogance always dripping from his tongue — Sakura found herself wanting to cut his tongue off in times like this. He shrugged and turned to his oven to boil some water. "You know nothing, Sakura."

The tone he used was the same time he always used when it came to her: like he was talking to an inferior animal. Like she couldn't comprehend simple matters, like she was a nuisance (and she was, but she was doing all she could to change that), like she was stupid, annoying, like he oh so liked to call her, like she was so much inferior to him, the heir of the Uchiha Clan while she was no one but Sakurs Haruno, no heiress, no nothing. Like she was stupid, dumb and those were things Sakura most definitely weren't. 

She did fucking wanted to cut his tongue.

"Your revenge." His back stiffed, but he snorted. 

"Like you could understand any of it." He turned to her and she never saw so much hate and despise turned to her and a shiver ran down her spine and she took an unconscious step back. "It was just like you said, Sakura. You don't understand one fucking little thing about being alone. How could you understand anything about it?" He scrunched his nose and took advantage of all his height, all his centimeters above her to look her down and shot her a cruel short laugh. "You're pathetic."

"Am I or are you?" She could feel the air around them thick and cold, the hairs on the back of her neck standing. "Or is Itachi?"

At the mention of the name his whole demeanour dropped and the kettle yelled, the water boiled, calling for attention. 

Sasuke stood there, for the second time that night, staring at her, no words in his mouth, no idea what to say. 

("Kakashi-sensei!" It was impossible for her voice to echo, but for poetic licence, it will be said that it did.

"Hey, Sakura. Don't know if you notice but I am right in front of you so no need to shout my name so people at Ground 10 can hear." He didn't mean as an offense, as Kakashi rarely did (and when he did, it stung much, much more) and his eye crinkle could be honest from where she was standing. 

"Sorry, sensei. It was that I was just looking for you the whole day and goddamn, do you hide or 

"Anything to keep my beloved students training."

She just rolled her eyes at his excuse. 

"Anyway, I need to talk to you." She looked around and saw they were completely alone there, not a single soul in God knows how far, but she was afraid someone might listen. Before she could voice her fears, Kakashi spoke. 

"I know what you want to talk about."

"Do you really?" She asked, both skeptical and shocked. 

Kakashi closed his book and sighed. "Is about Sasuke, isn't it?"

Sakura just nodded. Without saying anything further he bit his lip and slapped his hand at the floor.

"Summoning jutsu!" A curtain of smoke emerged and covered her sight until a pug — that pug! — appeared, his ugly face as bored as ever.

"Yo, Kakashi. What's the matter?"

"Make sure the perimeter is safe. I am going to have a conversation and I don't want anyone to pry."

"Your word is law boss." As he turned to leave, he looked at Sakura and tilted his head — Kakashi does that a lot too; it is borderline adorable if you're in a good mood. "Oh, pink girl!"

Sakura's fists closed by her side because she fucking hated when people called her Pinkie. 

"I am not pink. My hair is pink! I have perfectly normal skin coloured!" 

The pug laughed. For real, he laughed. 

"Calm down, girl. I was going to say that sharing the same shampoo is a compliment!" And then he vanished, remembering her she smelled like a dog. 

"Pakkun  is just messing with you." Kakashi said as he formed hand seals too fast for her eyes to follow, but as soon as he was done she recognized he casted a genjutsu over the place. "It is not the same shampoo and even if it was I only use the best on my dogs." And then the fucker smiled as that would ease things. Sakura still smelled like a dog. Damn Kakashi and their brand of shampoo. "But that's not what you came here to talk about, am I right?" 

Sakura's shoulders slumped and her head lowered in defeat as she nodded. 

"Sasuke, uh?" He said without any carry in the world, but even Sakura could pick up the hit of worry in his tone. He wasn't as laid back as he wish right now. 

"Who does he want to kill?" Sakura asked in a hard voice, without flattering, her posture now straight and her eyes more mature and alive than Kakashi had seen since the time she shopped off a dick of a man they accidentally found out in a mission that was abusing a child. It would take ages for him to get used to who Sakura had become. 

His visible eye widened, nevertheless, at how straightforward she was. 

Kakashi began to walk and she followed him until they reached, just some feet above, a deep shadow cast from a tree and a place where the grass seemed to be a place already marked for being used way too many times — probably one of the not so hidden Kakashi's hidden places. 

"What do you really know about Sasuke?" He asked as he sat in his usual way — back to the tree trunk, a leg bent and the other stretched, one of his arms under his head, just with the difference that the other one wasn't with his always present book; he was lighting a cigarette. 

She wanted to make a remark about it, but just let it be. 

"Just that I fucked up big time once." Kakashi lifted one eyebrow as he blew off the smoke. He did look better than Asuma-sensei. She would have to tease Ino about it someday — and Ino would do everything to prove her wrong. 

(She missed Ino more than she thought she loved Sasuke) 

"Just as Team 7 was put together I said some shit about Naruto… some really stupid and reckless and spoiled little brat, brainless shit." She was pickling the grass with her hands, chopping big parts of it while she spoke, the regret clear on her voice mixed with anger. 

"What did you say, Sakura?" 

By her pause, he thought she wouldn't meet his eyes or would blush and just whisper, but she looked so deep into his single eye he almost winced. 

"I said Naruto was stupid because he didn't have parents and he had no one to teach him good manners and he was always alone and that's why he was a dead useless least." Yeah, Kakashi winced. "I kept saying shit about Naruto that applied directly to Sasuke, right at his face. And that was when he turned to me with, with those eyes… and said I would never understand what it meant to be alone and told me to fuck off." She sighed and ran her hand over her face. 

"Well, I have to agree you fucked up big time. Weren't you kind of obsessed with him?" She avoided his gaze and nodded. "How did you not know about that? Sasuke is known for three things: insufferable brat, prodigy and the last of the Uchiha." 

"Ok, ok, Kaka-sensei, I got it. I guess my stupid mind managed to forget the last. All fangirls ignore the last. Everyone ignores the last ever since he was eight or so. I went asking around and no, none of us even know about this. It was a fucking gossip that died. It is only known for the grown ups."

Kakashi sighed, but then remembered that Naruto's scandal was pretty much the same. Children don't care if you are a fucked up orphan. They don't give a fuck about it. 

"What do you mean you've been asking around?" Kakashi lifted one eyebrow again, wondering if Sakura wasn't digging shit that would just fuck Sasuke even more. 

"Relax." She waved him off. "I am not stupid. I just asked things like "Hey, are you friends with another Uchiha besides Sasuke?" or "Are all the Uchiha assholes?" and the guys were kind of confused, just saying they didn't know many of them. So I did my own research." 

Sakura said that with such intensity, Kakashi was sure she found out about everything. Almost everything or she wouldn't be talking to him — or she just needed confirmation. 

"And what did you find?" he crushed his cigarette between his fingers. 

"His whole clan was slaughtered," there was a pregnant pause. "by Itachi Uchiha." 

Kakashi nodded and the wind blew her hair all over her face and she didn't bother to take it out, just letting the wind go and then just sneaking her hair under her ear. Long gone were the days Sakura Haruno cared more about her looks than anything else. 

"And what you really want to know is who really is Itachi Uchiha, right?" Sakura only nodded in response. Kakashi looked up to the sky. A storm was coming. "Itachi Uchiha is Sasuke's older brother."

Her gasp was swallowed by the loud blow of the wind over the leaves.)

Sasuke still didn't seem to know what to say, staring at Sakura wide eyed, like he was seeing a ghost, like Itachi had bargained into his life once again without his permission, without his strength yet to be complete. 

"What the fuck does someone like you even know about him, Sakura?" 

She didn't seem shaken by his attempt to harm her.

"I know he is the older brother that killed your family and your whole clan cold blooded."

Sasuke went as pale as his tilted floor and took a step back like Sakura's words could physically inflict pain. 

And that was not what she wanted.

"Sasuke, stop. Stop trying to run away. What we want is to help you, not scare you away."

"You don't scare me." He didn't miss a heartbeat, his face had gone cold and stony, his eyes too dark for a child — she wondered what Itachi Uchiha's eyes looked like. 

"That's not what I meant." Sakura began to plead but either she stepped on the wrong toe or her battle was lost all the time — or maybe both. 

"I don't need your help."

He turned his back to her and back to his room, only a fair whisper of "Now, you can leave." only to be met with a book at his back. Sakura was holding that book and she had just hit him with it. 

"Stop! Stop this nonsense and this bullshit. Just stop it. Stop running, stop being a coward."

In one shift motion, Sasuke grabbed the book from her hands and threw it at the wall then proceeded to grab her by the throat and put her up against the wall. It was hard to fight the feeling of redoing what his brother did to him, but he was not a coward and Sakura had to stop and leave.

Before he could open his mouth the body he was holding poorer out of existence and he was holding the book back again just as Sakura tossed a poisoned senbo at his direction. She looked fierce and she missed by a centimeter. He turned his sharingan on and she knew she would lose, but she had to try.

He launched against her, but she managed to block every punch and every kick, but was unable to launch any attack. She couldn't stay on defensive forever or she would look into his eyes eventually. For a speak of second, he retreated and Sakura formed two shadow clones, both performing the jutsu that would open up the ground and sneak him in — Kakashi's own jutsu — because she would need both hands to accomplish this feat, as her real self threw a set of shuriken and two kunai aiming at his knees, which he dodged with his own and threw back at her (except he aimed at her head and chest) and just as she was about to grab her feat she heard it. 

Too many birds.

Too many at the same time. 

Lightning beats Earth. 

Sasuke beats Sakura. 

Sasuke was about to kill her without a care in the world, attacking her like an enemy, like he attacked Gaara, like Naruto told her he attacked his brother. 

She wouldn't be able to dodge in time. 

She would die by the hands of the man she loved.

Chapter Text

In the battlefield there are five things that cross your mind like a toy spinning top:

Do I care if I survive this? 

A beautiful moment happened here. 

To live is to devour others. 

Hell is not a place. Hell is other people. 

The things we crave the most are the things that kill us.

But mostly and more frequently: I've seen the future, and I'm not going.

March 3018, 13 years before the beginning of the Fourth Ninja War

HIS KNEES WERE SCRAPPED and his tiny feet were tired. His left side was still hurting from the punches he took yesterday and he twisted his ankle when he tried to defend himself with a kick, but it wasn't really hurting. He was also hungry and didn't know if there was anything to eat at home. Probably not. He never had. He lived off junk food and take outs, not even washing dishes as he had few and most were plastic he threw away. He had only two mugs, one bowl and one plate. It wasn't like he would be getting any visitors soon. He also didn't have extra blankets or pillows as he also didn't have a place for anyone to sleep if a friend wanted to stop by. But he had no friends anyway, so that wouldn't be a problem.

It was getting dark, but he didn't want to go home, because that was no home. It was just the place he lived. He was too young to feel that way, but he was feeling really blue today. Maybe it was the fact that someone literally threw him three feet away into the ground out of a store. And he didn't have it in him to shake it off as usual. To be honest, he was fucking pissed and The Will of Fire that was always in and about the whole village, he wish he could use to set fire to it all. Maybe he should, he thought at his worst days. 

The outskirts of the village were behind his feet before he noticed. Looking up and to the right, he could see a bit of the gates. 

What would it be like to escape? To go away? He could grab his clothes and blankets and vanish when no one was looking, at night. He could even start a fire somewhere. People would blame him anyway, but this time, he would be far, far away when the curses came to burn his ears.

Two days ago he had to go to the hospital to fix a broken finger. He tried to set it by himself as he saw other people doing. When he managed to put the bone back into place he bit his lip in regret for the pain he caused. It's always easier and better said than done — and it looked much more painless when other people did it themselves. He muffled the scream anyway. It was just a bone. He was a ninja, wasn't he? Broken bones are a job description. 

Usually, his wounds would heal much faster and he had barely time to realise them, so he knew that when he still had time to notice it meant they were worse than it looked like. If his knees were scrapped, it probably meant they were almost at raw flesh at some point. 

People used to punch him to the ground with a constant pattern that was worrying. Kids used to punch him senseless almost everyday and he was still too small to fight back, even though he tried and never ran. He would never run. Naruto Uzumaki doesn't run. He faces them even when his eyes are so swallowed it is hard to see.

But it all heals quicker than expected and it should be weird, but he was beyond used to it by now. 

If he was hurt all the time, he needed to recover, otherwise where would people hurt him? How altruistic of him. Healing to be hurt. 

Some days when people hurt him with words, too many words he felt another kind of pain. His stomach would burn — burn, burn, burn as if someone had set it on fire. He wondered if someone had casted a ninja-spell over him among the words, as if destroying him in one way wasn't enough.

And, these days, he wanted to hurt back. He wanted oh so, so badly to hurt them back because he was alone and scared and hurt and he didn't deserve that. One thing his childish mind could wrap on was that he didn't deserve that. 

He didn't really know fully the meaning of the word, but he knew what it meant to him and it meant he was tired and he was angry. 

("This is for this month's living expenses. Spend it wisely now."

"Hey… Why don't I have a mom and dad?"

"Didn't I tell you before? Although it was quite some time ago…"

"That's not what I want to hear! You're talking about when the beast called the Nine Tailed Fox ran amok, right? Well, that's not what I'm asking about! I just want to know… Who were my parents? What kind of people were they?"

"There's no use asking about that. It won't bring the dead back."

With his back turned, Hiruzen Sarutobi would never see Naruto's bruises in his chin on the deep cut on his cheek because he didn't even look at the kid's face. And would never know how much he cried under the rain that very night in the middle of the cemetery not knowing which grave to look at.)

"How do you do it?"

"What do you mean —"

"How, just how do you walk out on a child asking about his dead parents saying that? And still call yourself a righteous man? A good man? An example, a Hokage? How do you wear that hat? How the fuck do you sleep at night?" 

"HATAKE! I allowed your unacceptable behaviour due your loss and your connection to the boy, as well as the period all these consequential losses happened, but you gotta understand I am the ultimate authority in this Village."

Hiruzen wondered how fast Kakashi was on his feet, the sharingan spinning. He didn't spar with the boy since he was a child under 10 and he was good already at the time. He could beat him — for fuck's sake, he was a Hokage and Hatake didn't have the credentials. Maybe his father did, but he didn't — but he could cause exponential damage. Hatake was Minato's pupil and Jiraya trained him as well, after all. 

"You don't act like one, Hokage-sama."

Oh, fuck, he would launch against the boy if he wasn't Orochimaru's sensei. 

"What happens to the boy is under my jurisdiction."

"Even worse." He could feel his killing intent beginning to leak, just a blow of a candle of a whole forest in flames. "How?"

Hiruzen's lines looked even deeper at the dawning light and his voice wasn't the controlled grandad mark of his. 

"How what, boy? What do you want to know? How do I deal with Minato's child —"

"Naruto."

"What?"

"He has a name. He is not the "Demon Fox", "That child", "Minato's child" as you said. He is Naruto Uzumaki, son of Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki — whose last words, as I recall perfectly as I was there to hold her body — weren't just "His name is Naruto", were also "Take care of the child". There isn't a day I don't remember her words. Did you forget them? Because I just reminded you."

Hiruzen took a second too long looking at him and Kakashi knew he struck him with his words. He would probably die for that as no one can talk to a Hokage like that and he knew that, but he was tired. He swallowed his words for five years now. But he had seen very few interactions from the two of them and seeing this broke him. 

He was about to leave for a mission the next morning. A S-rank class mission. One man only. All the way to the Rock to infiltrate among the Feudal Lord inner circle and murder his younger brother before he could take the title as it didn't seem fit to their interests. Wars never end, they're just hidden, imitating their villages. From there he was supposed to find the scroll only the dead man could lead him to — if he did. 

If they found out about him before he finished his mission, he would die. If they found out about it before he found the scroll, they would kill him. And his death was imminent at the hideout (they believed) the scroll was at. It was a suicide mission. He would die anyway. So why keep quiet?

"Don't bother putting any price over my head. We know I won't be coming back from this mission."

He then vanished in his usual swirl of leaves. 

The last thing he did before leaving was leave a note over Naruto's milk — he would never know if Naruto would find that note, as probably Hiruzen had some scout following Naruto closely.

"They were amazing."

(Kakashi succeeded at the mission and came back, just as he always did.)

two years later

"Kakashi," the Third's voice rolled beside him. What made him look was the fact that barely no one called him by his birth name. He looked over his shoulder to the man with his pipe "you know you can't intervene. You can't be a part of the boy's life."

Kakashi's knuckles turned white. He stood up straight and turned to the Hokage. He was back for about four days. 

"Hum?" The old man sighed.

"We've been through this before." The man said in a solemn tone.

"Yeah, we had." Hiruzen was about to sign in relief, but Kakashi followed. "And I never once agreed. This isn't fair. Lord Fourth gave his life to save the boy, save the village, keep everyone safe. And that's how we pay back? Leaving the boy to fate?"

"He is being watched." Sarutobi began. Again. This was the hundredth time they were discussing it. Usually Kakashi would get mad and then shake it off 'cause one can't just go against the Hokage. But he was drunk today. Or he was, two days ago, but he hadn't slept so it was pretty much the same. He was feeling specially lightheaded and out of control of his anger. He did nothing but hate the man in front of him. He was a coward. Their Hokage was a coward and that's it. 

No matter how many water bills he paid for Naruto, he was still sending the boy to an uncertain path only filled with rage and despair. 

The boy would break eventually. 

Kakashi knew all too well how it was to be alone and hated. Even though his father got the worst of the village, his son wasn't spared. He lost the count on how many times people would point and whisper about him. That treatment only made him lose it more. Now all the family he had died and the last remaining was this seven year old boy walking home. 

"And you assume that's good enough? Watch him? Where were you the times he got beaten? Or daydreaming on the market about food and ANBU masks?"

"We can't intervene."

"Why? Why not? Why leave the boy alone, like this? With the whole village hating him."

The Third Hokage looked very old in that light when he said "It would make things complicated."

"Complicated?" He snorted in disbelief "Complicated for who? You and your council or the child?"

Hiruzen's tone was harsh and mandatory when he spoke again.

"I must remind you who you are talking to."

"I know who I am talking to." Kakashi said and turned around. "I know pretty well who I am talking to. What I am talking to."

He disappeared into the night but Hiruzen heard clean and loud in his ears: coward. 

If Kakashi only knew what lay in front of him, the plans the Hokage had he wouldn't mind going rogue ninja if that saved all those lives. If it saved Itachi's fate. He wouldn't allow the massacre. He wouldn't. No matter what he had to do, he would stop it. 

A shame no one ever told him that. One of the highest considered ANBU wasn't to trust, not with something pretty clear he repudiated. 

Kakashi would only find out about the 'mission's they laid upon Itachi when Hiruzen died. He was one of the few who were allowed to clean the office. He didn't mean to, but when a scroll about the night of the massacre fell to the floor, he had to know. Because who would write a report about it? He surely didn't and he was with the research team. He walked the Uchiha Compound with blood on his feet and counting the corpses. Only seven years later he found out the truth. And when he did he knew it was too late. 

He was watching Sasuke train the same jutsu of his brother: the fireball by the lake at the Compound. The boy exhaled anger and bitterness. He carried the promise of avenging his clan. And, once again, Kakashi couldn't intervene in the kid's destiny. 

He was indeed scum. Obito was right all along. He was worse than scum.

The day the Third designated the kids to him he was taken aback. He wanted to laugh at his face and yell "Now you let me intervene? All these years later?" But he just said "Are you sure you want to entrust them to me?" He should've added he was a drunk with a suicide intent all along. 

He wasn't supposed to even be a teacher. He hated children and all he could see in Team 7 was the shadow of his own team. 

Sasuke was just as arrogant as he was, Naruto was loud and hopeful like Obito and the girl, Sakura, wasn't even a ghost of what Rin was. She was the one that kept him low key sane. She was the reminder they weren't the same, their future wouldn't be the same. She was there, everyday, yelling at how late he was, punching Naruto and falling over Sasuke like an idiot. 

(But that was just the beginning, wasn't it? It was just the tiniest scratch on the surface he could ever see, he could ever fathom. Team 7 was nothing like his own team because people are not the same. Those kids were broken in so many different ways from him, Obito and Rin and, yet, they were all bloody knuckled and sharp teeth, ready to take you down and make you scream and beg for mercy. 

They were a parade in a ghost town and Kakashi was too homesick to say goodbye. 

What Kakashi failed to notice, from the beginning to the end, was that he never had the emotional structure to build well those children that Minato sensei had to hold them together. To hold Kakashi together, even after his father comited suicide and he turned into that. Kakashi didn't have the proper bones to support Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke when they sold their souls for their village the same way Kakashi sold his. 

The shit is, he never saw it coming. Not with Naruto-ray-of-sunshine or Sakura-useless-fangirl. For him, they weren't shaped to be killers. Oh God, how wrong he had been.)

Kakashi hated Sasuke, contrary to popular belief. 

The boy was a walking nightmare. He was all the things Kakashi hated and wished he could change. The boy tried too hard to be like Itachi. He tried to be serious and alof, but he just came out as an arrogant prick. Always thinking he was so much better than everyone else — his genuineness was far to be paired by the Nara boy. The boy could've been the genius of his generation, be much better than Sasuke, but he was humble and, above all, lazy. Fate was such a bitch. If the Nara kid stood his ground Sasuke would have to swallow his egocentric ass. The Uchiha boy looked so much like Itachi but couldn't, not even in a million years, be even a shadow of what Itachi was. 

The kid was too arrogant and snob for someone that was trying to prove its worth. Trying to prove to his brother he would surpass him and achieve revenge. If Sasuke was less of an idiot punk he would've allowed Kakashi to help him. But no. The boy was too good even for the copy nin. And definitely better than Naruto. 

Naruto was an idiot. Knucklehead, loud and completely lacking any talent. It was hard to believe that that kid was Minato's son. Minato's and Kushina's. He could see Kushina's traits in him when he was passionate about something and even the way he treated Sakura. He had a resemblance of Minato with his fierce personality, always willing to help people and to be better than he was. He was far from the genius both his parents were, but they were still there, a living part of them. 

Kakashi loved them. He loved Minato like a father and Kushina like a mother. He wouldn't say it, as he was so proud, but they knew. When Minato designed him to watch over Kushina he knew his sensei was only trying to win him by heart, since he was so long gone.

But watching over her took some of his armour back. She was lovely, there was no way to describe her. She knew all about him and his past, but she never brought it up. He knew she knew he was following her, but she let him. She was too much of a ninja to be fooled like that. Some days she would give Minato a hard look and he couldn't figure out if she was mad at him for making Kakashi follow her or if she was mad at making Kakashi follow her. Those were completely opposite things. At 1 she could just hate being followed around like a child or 2 she hated that he designated Kakashi to such a thing — not because she didn't like him or that he was incapable of doing it. The second was enveloped on how much she cared about him and just wished they could sit and talk, or that he talked to someone or anything. He was scarred and trying to make him soft wouldn't cure him. He wanted to ask her about that when he went to visit her in the hospital, the day Naruto was born.

The day never came.

He could understand the logic in hating Naruto because he caused the Hokage's death. But it was completely illogical all the same. If the man willing gave his life he knew what he was doing. He asked him to be taken care of. But the Third decided it was better if the boy knew nothing about his past or who he was. Some could try to pinpoint the hatred and try to justify it 'cause the boy couldn't know about his parents to keep him safe; but it wasn't a bunch of stupid people who could offer that. It was amazing how far the boy came, on his own. He was just completely alone in the world and Kakashi could do nothing but watch. 

When he finally got to train the boy he was over it. Ten years after Minato's death he just couldn't keep himself hovering. It was wearing him down. And that's why he wanted to punch Hiruzen on the throat. With a table. He lost Kakashi's respect the first time he held him down by the shoulder when he intended to help Naruto. From the shadows, he watched Naruto. He watched Itachi as well and with that watched Sasuke that helped him watch over Naruto. It was an intricate line of Chinese whispers. He just worked with what was given to him.

And then Itachi massacred the whole clan.

And fled.

And the worst part was that, after he killed them all, he went to Kakashi's and said nothing, just bent over and cried. When the ANBU came to inform Kakashi the Hokage wanted him, Itachi was already gone. All he left behind was a crow feather. 

Crow was Shisui's animal. 

When he saw that feather he assumed that Itachi indeed killed his friend and faked his death. All over power. 

Except this was not like Itachi at all. 

And he brought that on to the council and that was the moment 'Itachi Uchiha' became a taboo. 

Kakashi couldn't openly explain why he wanted to pursue it because he knew Itachi too well. No lie could cover that up. And the council dismissed it with anger and resentment, sending ANBU after Kakashi for months. Which made it even harder to watch Naruto — or watch Sasuke whatsoever.

When he finally, finally met Sasuke he wanted to punch him in the throat with a table as well.

He said to Sarutobi he didn't want the job, that he would take any team but that, he would switch with anyone, someone, but he just couldn't with that specific team.

And that's precisely where Sakura's existence glued it all together. She was the reminder, everyday, it wasn't his sensei son (a reincarnation of Obito) or his lover brother (a reincarnation of himself at his worst). But Sakura was nothing like Rin. And with that, everyday, the experience became less painful. He could finally tell those worlds apart. He could finally know where one ended and the other began.

But what ruined it all was the fact she 'loved' the Uchiha brat — as Rin loved him. The day Obito died, she confessed her love. He shook it off, not just because it wouldn't be fair to Obito but also because he couldn't feel love anymore. He was 13 but he knew already all it brought was pain. 

But he loved Rin. In a romantic or platonic way he could never tell. He didn't think about her too much. It hurt. He couldn't wash the blood out of his hands for weeks every time he went to talk to her, and yet he kept going at least twice a month. He couldn't wash the blood from his hands and probably never could. 

But Sakura loved Sasuke who had the emotional depth of a teaspoon and was a wannabe rebel. And there was Naruto, who loved Sakura. And the Hyuga girl that loved him and the line was extended. With her foolish love she reminded him of Rin. They were absolutely nothing alike at all, at any aspect, given any circumstance. Her crush on him was pathetic and loud, a way Rin never was. But the goddamn spark on those huge eyes, everything went down. 

He kept a safe distance so he couldn't ever find any more similarities.

But if there was a thing War taught them all was about Love. And you can call me cheesy here. You can say I'm manipulating facts just to reach certain ends. But the truth is the hospital walls have heard more sincere prayers than the walls of any church and the Gates of when you're leaving for a mission, any point of departure for a War have seen more honest sincere kisses than any marriage. (I've read it once.)

During times of War, many, many people get married for the simple fact that they don't know if they will live long enough to make these vows after the War ends — because some Wars never do. 

So, this incessant state of killing and dying teaches you, above everything, about love. And, man, you didn't see it coming. It hits you like a cannonball straight to the guts, makes you dizzy and you fall to your knees, squishing your heart on your hands, the damn thing obstructing your throat. Love can kill and can make you die, sometimes, much more than it can get you to live. 

So, in the gore, mud, blood, desperation, yells, death, torture, tears that obscure your eyes as much as the nightmares you'be given yourself this too tiny word pops up and you want to punch it, at the same time it feels like coming home even when you have home no more — the Akatsuki blew it into pieces, among so many of your comrades. 

You don't even care about crossing the line about romantic love or platonic love or a motherly kind of love. You just know there are some people that make you jump in front of too big fireball jutsus for you to survive, but you'd do it anyway, was it for them. 

In the middle of it all, you find out you're not fighting solely for your country or your cause. You realise you never fought to stay alive for yourself. You are your least concern. That explains all your scars and all the near death experiences. 

No. 

There is always something bigger.

When Nagato said there would never be such a thing as peace, he failed to tell Naruto that Yahiko also died for him and Konan for Love, not just peace or a bigger cause. 

Ideals don't die. 

Once the seed has been planted, it will grow, no matter the weather. 

The Akatsuki ideology would survive, Konan, Yahiko or Nagato had died to Hanzo that fateful day. 

Ideals never die. 

Naruto died and what he was, what he meant would carry on for eternity, as much as Yahiko. 

No. No. They died for fucking Love.

And that shit is a blessing as much as it's a curse. 

Well then — now (now? I can't tell when 

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.

Janes Austin once said 

I can't tell when it began. When the admiration, friendship, camaraderie turned into more or if, somehow, it has always been.)

— now, we fight and die and rise once, twice and a thousand times to protect and secure what we Love. From the Village from the cause from the 

people.

It is too long ago now for me to tell you when the War shaped pure loyalty into something more. Something akin beautiful. 

Shinobi were not meant to feel, not even fucking meant to let a tear fall, Heaven forbid they see you cry, but ain't life twisted. What kept 'em going all this time, all these eras, all these Wars were feelings. 

It ain't cheesy at all. It is raw. It is painful and it leaves you sore. 

Love doesn't equal sex either and vice versa. Sex in the middle of the war is a form of survival. A reminder you are alive. You need those, from time to time. You need to hear yourself and other human beings to know you are still here. Still fighting. Still breathing. Still feeling. Still alive. 

We will die for those we love. 

And, even harder. Much, much, much harder:

We will live for those we love.

twenty one years later

"Sakura?"

She lifted her head that was smashed against two pillows, her right leg swinging from the bed. 

"Hm." Was the only answer she gave. 

They were currently at one of the small apartments just outside the Hyuga compound, where Sakura would go hiding and no landlord actually owned the place — he died in one of the many invasions. It was close to break the law, living in an apartment owned by no one because the true owner of the building was fucking dead, but the place began an ANBU stationary dorm room. 

The building had three floors and six apartments each floor, making 18 apartments in total. The one they were at the moment was somehow a mix between Kakashi's, Sakura's, Shisui's and Genma's. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a good enough kitchen and a nice living room. It didn't matter, though, because the four of them were never at the place at the same time. Even though both Shisui (and Itachi) had their own place at the Uchiha compound, they also had their things spread around, just as much as Hinata had her shit at her own small place at her clan's fucking huge compound, but had a load of shit at Sakura's and (former) Naruto's other apartment just by the side of the hospital. 

It was easier for all of them, this way. The enemies couldn't pinpoint where they lived — that when they had a place to live at all. They all had the gut feeling they would kiss goodbye to their sparse homes around the Village, but they didn't want to think about it. 

Sakura had her eyes unfocused staring at a black spot on the wall, the tip of her cigarette completely burned by now, but she didn't seem to have taken notice of. 

Hinata sighed and scratched the scar just below her chin, a habit she picked up when she was nervous. Maybe a reminder she almost died and was saved by the woman with the lost gaze. 

That was going to be fucking hard. 

Hinata was sitting at the end of the bed, running through old papers of Kakashi's days as Hokage, looking for a document that probably was tossed into the fire the night he was deposed.

Half of the papers were burnt that night, along with the office curtain. Half of Tsunade's sake was drunk during the act of setting fire and the other half fed the fire. Half of the shinobi disagreed vehemently and the other half whispered about how the Sixth Hokage was a worse drunk than the Fifth — which cost some collateral damage when it hit Tsunade's ears.

(People love to watch it from far away and judge your 24 hours of sending your men to certain death to keep the rest alive through the bottle you're drinking from.

The alcohol doesn't numb the pain like it used to do. But it burns, just as it all burnt that day and when it burns down your throat, it is better than the feeling of years weighting in your back and your mouth is always too dry and you're always too thirsty. The alcohol doesn't numb the pain like it used to, but if tries. And Kakashi tried, still.)

Half of the Hokage manor went completely wrecked and the other half was saved — at the cost of all the rage Kakashi kept to himself for 30 years in each and every person that crossed his way. Half of the guards were sent to the ICU and the other half to the PS. None stayed. 

He never aimed to kill. He just aimed.

The conference room that held his last meeting with the Elders was nothing but a memory — an unpleasant one, a discouraged, twisted, roasted one. Kakashi didn't set fire to everything in there. He mostly just broke the whole place. They would need from new furniture to new windows to new board members to a new ceiling. 

No one stayed. Until they arrived. It could be just her, just Sakura, but Tsunade's presence spoke volumes and it made him see red, just like the colour people tend to believe it is the only dog can see. And the Elders always liked to call him Rabid Dog, so be it. 

Obviously, he would never win a taijutsu fight against any of the women, so he used his a thousand jutsu arsenal.

It was time to show what he was made of — even though they knew. Sakura and Tsunade knew. He didn't have to show. But, at that very moment, everyone was an enemy, a target, a piece of wood for him to hit and show how good his aim is. He wouldn't kill them as much as they wouldn't kill him, but there wouldn't be no holding back. 

They were after his bells. 

The fucked up part was facing Hinata and she knew that, even after all those years, Kakashi's heart was at her Chunnin exam, almost dying at Neji's hands. And that made her see red.

(Three weeks later, he apologized and actually complimented her for the fucking new scar she gave him. He was wasted beyond repair and his speech was slurred. She just sat by his side and drank until she blacked out. She never told him about the new scar he gave her that day. The guilt would eat him up. No matter how much she grew, people always saw the weak, helpless, shaky Hinata. And she was fucking tired of it, but wasn't about to dump it into the man that lost everything because — she knew — he was way too familiar of seeing someone dying with a fist through the chest.)

Half of the village saw the Tower be destroyed and the other half was too scared to go near it. Half of the village had no idea what was going on and why the fuck two of the Hokages were fighting and destroying a symbolic monument. The worse half, was the half that knew.

But what did they really know?

"What do you know about PTSD?"

This time Sakura pulled her body up, eyeing the other woman angrily. 

"I know enough to know that you have it." not noticing, she sat on the bed, grabbed a bottle of pills and popped one down "You're not escaping your treatment, ma'am." Sakura announced between yawning.

"I am not talking about me."

She tilted her head in a confused look "Who are we talking about?"

Sakura sat behind her and inclined her neck over Hinata's shoulder, getting on her knees, sustaining her body up, trying to find the answer on the papers — she looked like a suricato. "Oh, my. Who is it now? You," she hit her in the arm in pure reflex and she didn't even flinch any more, even though it hurt. Sometimes Sakura would hit her just like she used to hit Naruto or Kakashi. It was almost adorable, as far as a punch can go. "bloody shinobi —"

"You are a shinobi." Hinata intervened softly and she just glared and ignored. 

"— are so arrogant and selfish, bragging about pride and shit, but don't see what's right under their noses. You keep running from hospitals as if being home alone suffering and keeping it to yourself would heal things." She was sitting cross legged now, facing Hinata. From what she saw in the papers, she probably thought this was about Kakashi. "Really, man, this is pathetic." 

With shaking fingers she accepted the cigarette was handed to her. "This shit kills." Sakura mumbled under her breath, lightening it. 

"Wouldn't you know? You're the doctor." She said laidback, resting her back against the wall, one knee up with his hand resting upon it, her hair up in a messy bun, just an old pajama t-shirt, no pants, no titles, that very note of sarcasm no one would ever recognize in fucking Hinata Hyuga because they all grew thinking she was a doll, not a soldier. 

Taking the eye color off, she could be somebody else.

"I don't understand why you maggots —"

"Jeez, you sound like Anko. Stop going out with her so much."

"Fuck you, Hin." Sakura pointed a finger with a cigarette in it to her face. "She is fucking insane and a great company." She was toying with a bottle of pills while Hinata was drinking a bottle of beer. All they had in that goddamn apartment was booze. "I don't understand why it is so hard to seek help. It is obvious we can't fix ourselves. We want to be strong, but we all have limits. We can deceive ourselves and fool us and others, but in the end, it will eat us alive."

"So why do we keep running away from the problem? Trying to hide from it, as if it would disappear if we keep trying to kill it by ourselves?" Hinata offered between a sip. 

"Exactly!" Sakura smiled. "Going after help doesn't make us weak. Killing ourselves for stubbornness does." She took a breath and shook her head, clearly annoyed at whom Hinata even spoke about. "Who is the little shit that has PTSD and refuses treatment?"

Hinaya stared at her, giving her nothing.

Some of her hair was falling from the bun in a mess over her face. It was about time she decided to get back to her fringe or not. Without even realising, Sakura cleared her temple off the hair, messing it more, just taking more strands off, but taking it from her eyes. Without the hair, she was even more serious. The pale lights from the street gave her a stern look and Sakura suddenly was afraid of what she was going to say. 

She could feel her breath picking up and her chest constricting. Her heartbeat was way too fast and she closed her eyes trying to control her body, but only seeing things she wanted to forget behind her eyelids. So much death. 

Her ragged breathing didn't escape Hinata and, in a second, she had a hand on her shoulder — something he always did when she was falling apart. It wasn't too intimate but neither cold. It always felt like she was holding her up and down at the same time. Up 'cause she always felt like she was about to be swallowed by her monsters, that she was about to fall on the ground and cry her heart out, as she did so many times. And down 'cause she never let her go too far from the situation, keeping her head on the ground and not on the clouds — all she could see through the clouds was pure disgrace, so she was thankful. 

She opened her eyes and her expression had changed. It wasn't pity. She couldn't take pity. She knew the other woman couldn't stand that either. They didn't need pity. They needed their brains blown up for good. No. It wasn't pity. It was sadness. 

Hinata looked at her as she always did: like she was an open book urging to be read; that book that everyone opened but never read; she had so much to say and nobody to listen. Hinata looked at her through her soul, deep in her bones, underneath her flesh. Always the underneath of the underneath. She read her all too well for comfort. 

"Hin, who is it this time?" She said in barely a whisper.

She looked at her with such sadness that her heart clenched on her chest. She was way beyond repair, but she didn't need to keep on being broken due all the war took from her. 

Who is it?

"It is you, Sakura."

"What?!" She shirewequed. "The fuck are you talking about, Hinata?"

She just held up a flask full of pills. Sakura's eyes widened and her expression was of pure horror. 

"Where did you find it?" She demanded, hands shaking as she tried to reach for the bottle "Hinata," breath in, breath out "give it to me."

The heiress didn't say anything, just held the flask above her head and Sakura was basically climbing on her to retrieve it. 

"Hinata! Give it to me!" She yelled, frustrated that she was too high to get a proper hold of it. She stood on her feet and almost got it. "Give it back, dammit!" Breath in, breathe out. Her chest was constructing again. "I am gonna break every bone of your body if you don't give it back!"

Hinata stood up and her legs weren't wobbly despite the beer, she noticed with annoyance. She was looking at her and that sadness was still there, but there was a bit of anger — and worse: disappointment. 

Sakura swallowed hard. 

"Give me the bottle."

"No." Hinata finally spoke. And spoke so matter-of-fact her heart skipped a bit and she came to a stop, staring at the woman wild eyed and confused. Her hair had fallen completely from the bun now and she looked much more threatening than Sakura.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

"These are mine. Give them back." 

Hinata looked at her, stoic, not polite, lovely, sweet or whatever the fuck as usual. Her pale, pale eyes — they were almost white, almost transparent, Sakura could almost see herself there, pathetic — were burning holes in her very soul and she wanted to punch her, to smash her, beat her, break her, ruin, twist, hurt, shatter. But all these thoughts died on the beach the moment she threw the bottle out of the open window. 

Sakura felt the air leave her lungs, a sucker punch leaving her wide eyed, surprised, taken aback, shocked, disbelief rubbing in her veins. 

She wanted to kill her.

As soon as the bottle disappeared into the night she faced herself with two options: hurrying down the building and retrieve the pills or beat the shit out of Hinata. 

They never fought before. Their relationship wasn't based on silly banter and push and pull like hers with Naruto or Kakashi. 

Yet, it was incredible for her to choose the first. 

It just wasn't truly shocking. 

She could do anything after she retrieved her pills.

In a flash she was out of the window and searching the floor. The damp street light wasn't helping and the option that it vanished in the garbage truck was too much. 

She snapped.

With all the chakra she could gather, she punched the floor. A decision she would regret in the years to come by, but in that very moment, she wanted to smash everything to pieces. Tiny sand pieces. So she proceeded to punch the nearest tree. Then the other. Then the ground again, forming an earthquake that took trees down and shook some houses. She was seeing red. 

When she punched the door of a civilian abandoned house she finally came to a stop. As she gathered her surroundings, she couldn't believe it. With a few punches she ruined three blocks. Some houses were tripping and the families were looking out of the windows terrified. The ground was open and cracked for about a mile or so.

Her building — Kakashi's building was crooked, tending to the right. She could've killed a three worth blocks of, what, a hundred people? 

Her knees failed and someone held her up. She knew who it was. She was angry, so angry, but she couldn't help crying into her shirt. And she let her. She didn't even put on fucking pants. With an arm around her shoulders and the other at the small of her back, Hinata held her. She clung her shirt in her fist, ever so slightly punching her chest, with no raw strength or chakra filled. It was light like a feather. It was more like she wanted to do something, anything, but she only learnt her way through her fists. 

She was just giving small hits, her hands balled into fists and the air caught in her throat. 

"Breathe." Hinata whispered to her ear. Just the sound of her voice calmed her a bit. Her voice was even and strong, she could feel it under her hands, even if it was still sweet, even if it still held the innocence that would always just be hers. Her heart was beating fast and she was breathing a little out of pace. 

"Breathe in, breathe out." She murmured and Sakura complied. It was hard to breathe when everything felt like it was falling apart and it would crash into her — but there it was Hin's hair, covering her view and her arms, holding her. Up and down. In and out. 

She dismantled herself from her in an urge and Hinata didn't have any time to react when she smacked her lips on hers. She let go of her shirt and ran a hand through her neck, stretching the skin, pulling slightly the hair. 

Hinata's lips were soft and warm.

(Hinata's lips were chapped and cold when Sakura smacked hers onto the girl's, without any warning. It was raining. She was soaked to the core, her clothes clinging to her body in a way that made her frame appear so fragile it wasn't recognizable as Sakura, but as a branch that was about to snap when the wind would blow too strong. 

It wasn't their first kiss and it wouldn't be their last. 

But, this time, there was something different. Something frantic. Almost maniac. Sakura was shaking like the tree branches that held Neji's fate once and Hinata recognized the feeling way too well. 

They were trapped. 

They had been ambushed, seven days ago or so — Hinata couldn't tell. The dark she was being kept was too dark to actually make out the difference between day and night and the "meals" they would get her didn't come in even intervals of time, so she was mostly assuming. 

Everything inside her was aching and she was keeping it all locked at some dark corner in her mind to be accessed later because now all she could think about was survival. 

Unfortunately, in times like this, you have to push your trauma down your throat in order to live to suffer from it another day. 

That wasn't supposed to happen. It just fucking wasn't. 

How did they manage to capture not only her, but Sakura as well? 

In the end, the only thing she could take from that experience so far was that their fears were, indeed, well placed: they were back.  

At this point, with so many indications, it should be obvious, but it shouldn't be possible . But if both Sakura and Hinata managed to be captured, it was just one more proof to the pile they were trying to make any other sense of. 

And not only them. They weren't alone. They brought some friends — and those friends have some twisted ideas of what they could do with the power that came from being under their cloaks. 

But judging by Sakura's state, she hadn't been captured just seven days ago. She had lost weight already and her wounds were getting infected. 

"Hin —" her voice broke, hoarse, like she had been yelling so much her vocal chords didn't want to cooperate anymore. "Hin, Hin, please, please." It was all she said between kisses while she tried to climb over Hinata. 

Hinata's eyesight was blurry and she felt weak to the bone, so Sakura's weight brought both of them to the floor. But there wasn't one resemblance of lust amongst those kisses. It was just desperation and Hinata understood. 

"Sakura," she put both her hands on the woman's face. "I need you to focus, I need you to stop."

"No, Hin, please." She'd sob. 

Hinata couldn't tell how long it took for her to be able to just evolve her arms around Sakura's shoulders and let her cry. She couldn't tell how long she just cried, but she could tell — and it would always hunt her — when the croak of Sakura's voice whispered something too close to 'kill me' to comfort.  

So of course she knew and understood and felt in her very bones, in her own heart, cursing through her veins. She was still able to lock the trauma away in some corner in her mind to deal with it later, but Sakura's dark corner spilled all the black ink on the canvas and she had the trauma all over her now. The survival instincts were being shut off, one by one, until all it was left was the unmistakable dread, the will to give up because fighting is hurting too much. 

Eventually, Sakura fell asleep, so it was just Hinata and her thoughts. The thoughts that could go the very same path as her fellow carcerer partner. 

All her teammates for the mission were already dead and of that she was sure. Not everyone was able to withstand this kind of "treatment". And none were assets as precious as the both of them. Hinata had to watch as one of the girls she was responsible for, a girl that was only 15 was murdered in front of her, in a way to make her speak. That made her shake and scream so much they had to knock her off — but the pain she felt left pretty clear they didn't bring her back to her cell after that.

But, when the doors opened and it was her time to be dragged out by her hair, the men laughed at her trashing or how the wounds on her back would bleed all over the floor again. But when it was her time — 

They always had her hands tied and it always had a chakra suppressor. They never covered her mouth because they liked to hear her scream — and, of course, they were interrogating her, after all. 

She didn't have her blouse on her anymore when she made her decision. Today, there were only three guys. She couldn't keep it going forever. They could never be found. They could die there. They could wish to die there.  

They'd take all their secrets to the grave,

yeah. 

But she didn't want to die.

Not just yet, not there, not like that.

"I'll need a pen." She tried to say with a voice as stable as possible, but it still came out shaky and weak. Tears were already pooling on her eyelids. It was hurting already. 

"What do you need a pen for, doll?" One of the men asked, his pants at his ankles already. She swallowed the bile. The day she threw up, they shoved her face on it. 

"To give you the location." Don't fucking cry, it'll be alright. Either you die trying or you don't die at all. "That's what you want, isn't it? To know where they're hiding?"

One of the men, a tall one, with ruby eyes and dark skin smiled, his teeth sharp and looked at the one with his pants now off, his dick hanging. "I told you she'd break if she saw her friend."

The third one — and he was the worse, he was the one that actually took pleasure on inflicting pain, fuck the sex — have the gauge to chuckle, low on his throat. 

"Whores are always easy to break." He walked in her direction and picked her up by the base of her hair, no doubt taking a chunk of it. "Princesses are always the weakest sluts." 

Hinata locked her jaw with such strength she was sure she cracked some teeth. 

He pushed her in the direction of a table where they laid a map and the dark skinned asshole was holding a pen, smiling like a shark that just got a hold of a cargo full of writhing bleeding humans. 

"I have one condition." 

"You're not in place to make any demands —"

"Just heal some of her wounds. I will spill the whole fucking tea for you once she's okay." Her voice didn't shake this time even if her hands were trembling so much she could barely hold the pen. 

The man tsched, but agreed, mumbling something about whores, as it seemed it was all he could do. 

It all happened in one second. 

As soon as she got the pen, she turned and stabbed the eye of Shark Teeth with all the strength she still had, using her weight as a propeller. The man barely had the time to lift his hand to cover his eye and she was already sticking the bloody pen in his throat, where it got stuck weirdly, but showered her in blood. 

Taking advantage of this, she snagged the kunai he had in his belt and, just for safety, sliced his throat. 

Her whole ordeal with Shark Teeth lasted barely seconds, so when Pantless came in her direction she kicked the table at him and maneuvered herself in a position to get behind him, but Asshole grabbed her and, in a flash, she was on her knees, the kunai gone and that thing was being shoved at her face. 

So she did what she'd been dying to do since day one: she bit it. She fucking tore it apart. There was so much blood she almost got sick, but listening to his screams made it worth it. 

Spitting the damn thing off, she took advantage of their shock once again and grabbed the kunai on the floor and embedded it on Asshole's thigh, with all the strength her position could muster. 

He let go of her and she turned around, taking a kunai from his porch this time and cutting a clean line straight on his abdomen. His eyes were huge and she was shocked when she realised she was —

Hinata felt rather than see Pantless coming to her direction, so she ducked his attack and used her tied hands to choke him, pulling him towards her with such brutality that the ropes even cut through the skin.

The only one left was Asshole, still kneeling on the floor, one hand on his thigh, the other in his stomach. Just at that moment it occurred to her they didn't use any kind of jutsu. Was it for luck, was it from their shock, was it because they were the branch of affiliates that were shitty ninja she didn't know and she didn't care.

And then she grinned, white teeth gleaming in the dark, torn lips revealing bloodied teeth electricity. He almost expected to smell ozone, the doors from Hell opening behind her, when she exhaled quietly, yet too loud in the now dead silent room.

"I know." She whispered, getting rid off the ropes on her wrists. They were bleeding. "Whores are the easiest to break, right?" Then, she exploded his head between her hands.)

She didn't waste any time pulling out her tongue and into Hinata's mouth. She didn't offer any resistance and wrapped her sly arms around her shaking form. They kissed with all the possible intensity one could put on a kiss. Their teeth did meet, but they didn't care. Their tongues were playing around, dancing on their own compasso and the ritmo became frenetic. When Hinata bit her lower lip she muffled a moan against her lips and held her tighter, pulling her hair to get herself closer. The kiss was passionate and Hinata's hand found his way to her lower back while the other hand tucked into her hair. Hinata was holding onto her as if her life depended on it — like she would be consumed by fire if he didn't keep kissing her, touching, smelling, feeling her. (Like she would still find the half dead Sakura in the middle of nowhere in the Wind Country, the rain so cold it felt like snow, she thought they'd both die there. There was no rescue team coming for them. 

After Hinata demolished their kidnappers, she downed a canteen of water in a matter of seconds, almost gagging, but it felt like Heaven, even with all the blood still plastered around her and her clothes torn. 

She knew it was just a matter of time until more men showed up. The clock was against her, just like everything seemed to be in that situation. 

Not giving a single fuck about mugging corpses, she took to herself their much warmer coats and dozens of weapons and brought the same to Sakura. 

Her blood ran totally cold when she went back to the cell she was being kept in: she could see the shadow of two more men. 

Her chakra was pathetically low at the moment, but all it took was the taste for revenge to fuel her. 

They didn't stand a chance.

She let 'em come. When they rounded the corner to enter the room she was about to be raped as a form of interrogation (again) she jumped on them. Even though she wasn't as well versed in weaponry as Sakura was, slashing a man in half with a tanto embedded in chakra shouldn't be so satisfying. But when his body parted in two, a silent scream falling from his mouth, Hinata remembered why she was called a Demon nowadays. 

Bringing Twin Lions, she smashed the other man's chakra pathways (and bones) before he could even make any sense of the situation and demanded to know where they were. 

In the men's eyes she could see herself: her hair was a mess of knots, full of blood and dirt, but still cascading over her. Under the massive brown winter coat that was too big to her, the shell of her breasts was still visible, but completely covered in blood, just as her face. Her eyes shone in a dizzying white in contrast to her hair and all the gore that now made the man try to whisper

"Th-the the Demon Eagle—"

His voice was strangled and she grinned, the water didn't wash all the blood from her mouth, her teeth glistening like a predator ready to strike and the rapist at her feet was her prey — and she was more than ready for a banquet. 

With a hand covered in chakra, just at his throat — that hand that, if touched, would obliterate him. Hinata planned to cut his airways along every remaining chakra pathway and the result would be his head hanging from his shoulders. 

She recognized him, too. He was the one that liked to choke her until she saw black spots. How the tables have turned, uh? 

The coward was shaking like a leaf and as soon as he finished informing her where they were, the "Please. Have mercy." was cut down in a burst of light. He was left on the floor. Smashed bones and his head hanging from his neck, just some tendons holding it. 

After packing all the supplements she could and dressing up Sakura too, she healed her the best she could with the few chakra left and her own abilities as a healer. In the middle of her fever, Sakura gave her a peck on the lips and whispered a barely there "Thank you.". This time, she could notice the taste of copper coming from Sakura's mouth. 

As they left, Hinata left four heads impaled as a warning and a goodbye gift, along with a message carved outside the cabin's wall:

"Whores are always the easiest to break."

As the remaining men stepped inside the cabin, it blew sky high. She only had one regret: she didn't get to kill the man that embedded whore on her arm with his kunai. The wound was too deep to heal. She still has it to this day as a reminder:

She won't break.)

But when Sakura's hand brushed down her stomach and made its way to her shorts, she stopped and held her wrist. She looked wide eyed at her, brows knit together, an expression of pure confusion that quickly turned into anger and hurt. She let go of her hair and meant to either push her away or draw her back to the kiss, but Hinata's light, yet firm hand stopped her again, holding both wrists in one hand. She could've blown her hand off, but she didn't. She was tired. 

(Sakura was tired. Just as tired as the day, something similar happened with Kakashi. It was after they spent 200 days as captives. A month later, she had the last of her pills and crashed into him. She had pulled down his mask with such strength, she heard the material rip. 

It all followed in the same pace it did with Hinata and it all stopped at the same way it did with Hinata. But she was tired. So tired that she didn't enjoy his bare face. She couldn't see much on the weak damp light of just outside the inn she met him for trade information about a mission, but it was enough. Even without seeing properly she felt a warmth grow in her, one of those that spread without you even realising, like when you drink hot cocoa and you just notice you're warmer when you are. 

He could've pulled the mask up within a second, but he didn't. He allowed her to see his face. He was stripped bare in front of her, and even if it wasn't the first intention when he held her, he let her see him, read him.

The sadness was still there, but, if she could be mistaken, she could see love there, when the light of the lamp broke above their heads and only the moonlight and weak light from the other lamp post were illuminating his face. She didn't need anything but that. She didn't need to study and memorize all of his features. Maybe she should. Maybe he would never again let her see his face. Maybe he would shut down even more now that he opened a little. But she couldn't find such a selfish thought. She was fixated on the simple act of allowance.

When he motioned to put his mask back she held his hand. He looked at her puzzled, brows furrowed. The simple answer to the silent question was that Sakura put the mask back into place. That act alone was much more intimate than any kiss they could share.)

"Let's go back?" Hinata's voice was quiet and comforting, barely above a whisper. She was like the calm after the storm. And Sakura was always the storm.

They were into each other's skin and they didn't care. 

Life was too short and dangerous to care about who you're kissing; it hurt much more than finding something missing and not being able to bring it back. She would rather kiss any comfort back into her life than just live above the whisper her past experience were. Hinata knew it too and silently they agreed that much more urgent questions waited for them in the apartment

Once they were in, Hinata closed the door carefully and turned to face her. 

She had her face in both hands, elbows resting in her knees, her back arched forward and she looked like a broken shell found in the middle of the wet sand of a remote beach. She looked like a broken soul trying to survive. She understood all too well, because she was too torn to pieces of a soul.

He sat at the small table in front of her and put her elbows on her knees, but rested her chin on crossed fingers. Sakura almost wanted to laugh at that. For her, Tsunade scarred everyone that ever rested their chins on their locked fingers. Yet, it always gave her a sense of grounding. Tsunade gave her a sense of grounding like no other and she'd have to say it to the woman before she — Sakura shivered only at the thought. She couldn't lose another mother. 

They sat there in silence for a while, only the sound of the neighbours talking or the wind against the window or the low hum of the refrigerator.

"How long."

Silence. 

The sound of crickets somewhere, someone laughing on the street, a cat meowing loudly, a door opening and closing two floors down. 

"Do you have a cigarette? One of those you do it yourself?"

Hinata lifted an eyebrow. Sakura rolled her eyes. 

"I know Shikamaru taught you how to do those. We used to smoke them back in the day."

"Yeah. At sleepovers, before everything blew sky high so hard —" Hinata's throat closed. Fuck, she was the one to be offering support. 

"I miss those days."

"Me too." Hinata's beautiful face was adorned with a sincere sad smile. "We should've enjoyed 'em more."

"I think we enjoyed it a lot." Sakura retorted with an eyebrow raised and a provocative tone. 

Hinata blushed on the slightest and rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant, you dork."

Sakura gave her a small laugh, so tinged with sadness it shouldn't even be called a laugh. 

"Yeah, I do." With a small, but honest smile she said: "Those are probably my favourite memories."

Hinata's smile was sad — lately, everyone's was — but it was bright, anyway. 

"Mine too. Even when Ino spilled wine all over the carpet of my father's bedroom. I am still ashamed to this day that I told him it was menstruation."

Sakura giggled.

"D'ya think he bought it?"

"Not one single bit." Hinata said with a goofy smile, that shortly died. She lifted an eyebrow and looked confused at her "I thought you didn't smoke those."

"I don't."

"I thought you hated those cigarettes. That they remind you of your old uncle and grandfather."

"They do."

"Have you ever even smoked one?"

"I did."

"Really? But don't —"

"Are you going to run a whole psychological test or fuck me?"

"Hum, I'd go for the second, but weren't we still on the cigarette basis?"

"Fuck off, just give me the fucking cigarette." Her hands were shaking.

Sakura gave a tiny smile at Hinata’s poor wannabe joke. She knew what she was doing. 

“Shouldn’t it be more shocking that you have fags, Hin?”

She tapped the back pocket of her jacket, which lay in the middle of the bed, and emerged with two cigarettes and a lighter. She finally lifted her head from her hands and she was a blur of red and pink. 

“Really, Haruno?” Oh, fucking god, everytime Hinata called her by her last name was because she was doing what Hinata hated the most: still short living her by her past steriotype. Truth is: Hinata was the first one (even before fucking Shikamaru Nara) to show up with a cigarette. No one owned any bet, because not one single soul bet Hinata would be the first one to smoke. Apparently, being a Hyuga was that fucking stressful. And when everyone thought Neji would flip his shit, he was caught smoking three weeks later (but Shikamaru and Ino had smoked already, so Hinata had the title already). 

(As for Sakura… As for fucking Team 7… None of them knew the first time they put their hands on a cigarette or alcohol. Their mission often involved older ninjas mocking them and bullying them with “Oh, too scared to smoke?” and like the stupid fucks kids can be, they always took the bait. Sakura at least took pride in the fact that Sasuke coughed like a motherfucker. As for Naruto, well, Kurama probably thanked some deity because he looked like a thirteen year old pro. Team 7 was fucked bottom to the top. It was no surprise what they turned out to be — or their coping mechanisms. 

Sakura was the only one that knew that sweet naive Hinata was in for the kill as much as Team 7. Kurenai took her under her wing, seeing how weak her own clan let her be, so Hin turned into a class A gennin in the shadows. Her persona was a very own genjutsu. Kurenai did her justice and did it well. The boys  — Shino and Kiba — never noticed. Everyone looked over Hinata the same way they looked over Sakura. What was left for them was to deal with the consequences of their arrogance.)     

Sakura picked the cigarette and motioned to the lighter when Hinata lit it for her. A second passed where their faces were illuminated by the fire and then it was gone. A second later, Hinata put her left hand in a shell around the cigarette and lit it, the flame now glowing in her face, showing nothing. From that close, you can see the small scars she has. 

"How long?"

She sighed, closed her eyes and took a deep drag.

"Don't know. Long enough?" She offered 

"Before or after —" Hinata was unsure of asking about her mother, so "Shizune?"

Sakura flinched in her seat and took another deep drag. She exhaled four times before answering and her voice was nothing but a whisper, a confession to a priest, forgive me father for I have sinned."Before." She said blowing the smoke. 

Hinata nodded, thoughtfully. They kept smoking in silence for a while. 

"How?"

"I had an accident in the field about six weeks before. It looked really bad and I didn't have enough chakra to heal it properly, so I popped one of the emergency pills for pain. It helps so you can at least walk without being paralysed by the pain. When we hit the gates, the effect had already worked off and my mind was blurry because of the pain. It was an exposed fracture. I lost a lot of blood and passed out. When I woke up I was in the hospital and the broken bone was halfway healed. I was taking morphine. There’s a thing about morphine: the high it gives you…” Sakura’s eyes unfocused for a moment and Hinata never wanted to slap her so badly. 

“They kept my dose stable so I could move around without wincing. Everyday we... we, uh,” she cleared her throat and took a drag. The name still hurts. “Shizune and I worked in the goddamn bone. It was the femur, you know? The biggest bone of our body and that hurts like hell when you break it? Anyway I was able to leave and come home after a few days. They gave me painkillers 'cause I wasn't able to take the pain away with chakra. The bone was half fixing itself naturally and half induced by chakra, so I couldn't keep bumping more and more into it, cause I could damage some tissue or organ or something. 

“When I got the news" her eyes stopped and stared at Hinata’s pale ones. There was so much she wanted to say about that day, but would never. Some wounds will never heal if you poke them. "I was almost off the pills already, just taking it as a precaution. But then..." She trailed off and he could see a tear rolling from her eye when she looked away and swiped the other eye with as much dignity she could pull off sitting on a couch as old as she, smoking hand made cigarettes and staring at the street she blew "that very day, before... Before recognizing her body... and... and working on the causa mortis, I went home and sat under the shower until the water ran cold. Sitting there, freezing, the flask fell off my clothes and I decided why not and took four pills in one go. It scratched my throat due to the absence of water. I got light headed in minutes. Everything was distant. The pain. The sorrow. The grief. It went to the back of my mind. It was like I was floating. It was all there, but I was numb. I even burnt a finger making coffee 'cause I didn't register how hot the water was. 

“When it came time to go to the funeral, the effect was almost gone. That's when I felt all the pain crippling back. So I took more pills. And more and more. Every time I hurt, I take a pill. It wasn't long before I became addicted to it. As a medic, I could go over the stat of painkillers as much as I wanted, but even then I could raise superstitions, so I brewed my own pills. I just keep the flasks 'cause I like to see my name and the date when Shizune was still alive. Like taking the pills erased the day."

There was nothing Hinata could say. 

That’s the truth. 

She could call Sakura an addict, a junkie, tell her to stop, tell her how sorry she was, so, so many things. But what’s the use? 

(Hinata entered the Hyuga compound at three in the morning completely drained. The Hyugas were coming to an end and some part of her was feasting on it, if she was to be honest. That fucking family was pure poison, but she didn't want people to actually die. She just wanted the Hyugas to stop. But the War was showing them that the royalty wasn't better on the battlefield as they believed they were in the street. 

Oh, my. She was turning into a sociopath.

She sensed, then, movement in the house, but there wasn't supposed to be anyone there, besides other three members that were in the houses opposed to hers. Hinata activated her Byakugan just in time —

"Fuck."

Time taught her how to be fast, but she thought she wouldn't be fast enough to grab Sakura in her arms and roll her to her side so she wouldn't choke in her own vomit. Sakura OD'd. That was when Hinata found out she was using too many pills. Her mother died an year ago, but, then again, they fucking hated each other. Maybe not enough for Sakura to be okay with it. 

"Fuck, Sakura, what are you doing? What the fuck do you think — how do you — you fucking" 

Hinata thought about a lot of things. Calling Tsunade. Calling Kakashi. Naruto. Maybe even Ino. But what would they do besides what she was doing herself? Tsunade probably (surely) knew much more medical ninjutsu to this situation, but how would she react? Shizune was in a fucking coma, getting tinier and tinier as the days passed by — and somehow, deep down, they blamed it on Sakura. So Hinata sat down to take care of herself. She knew enough to keep her safe and if her vitals became unstable, she'd have time to reach the hospital. 

They were in the middle of a War. A War. Hinata never weighed this word till now. She never thought about how it could possibly just kick the air out of her lungs much more efficiently than any good punch. Just the thought of it was enough. And everyone copes as best as it can. But, oh fuck, really? 

She just wasn't ready. 

She just wasn't. 

Nor for losing Sakura nor for fighting a War, leave alone both. 

Just as she bit her fist to hold the tears that were threatening to tear her throat, the baby kicked.)

So they just sat there in silence, smoking. 

The air that was entering from the window smelled just like rain and neither woman jumped when Pakkun showed up in the middle of the living room. He didn’t even have to say anything. 

Hinata gave him a treat and asked if he could pass up a message to Shikamaru  — they had a meeting in a few hours. Pakkun always had a soft side for Hinata and her belly rubs.  

Sakura was staring at the cigarette basically dead in her fingers and as she took the last drag, she crushed the thing between her fingers. She didn’t feel the pain of burning down a cigarette anymore.

Now at her feet, Hinata tilted her head to the side, a smile on her face and held her hand out for Sakura just as thunder rolled outside the window.

"Shall we?" 

Sakura smiled when she took her hand and the next they knew, they were at the Hokage monument, the rain already pouring. 

It was their thing. They didn't master the flying raijin, but they were as good as they could be, Minato teaching them in his spare time — which wasn't much. It was a luxury they were spending some time at home, able to just be and breath for a second. Sakura’s patrol will start in five days, so they should do their best to enjoy these last few days. 

When they got there, before Sakura could say anything, Hinata turned to her and told her she was leaving. Kakashi arrived in a heartbeat and smiled at them. It was hard to say if it was honest. 

“Hinata!” He started, his eyes crinkling “Will you —”

“Oh, no.” She smiled. Honest and not so sad. She wasn’t close to Kakashi, but in all those years, they could almost be called friends. “I have to meet Shikamaru. Tactical border meeting and shit. You know how the Hyugas are always dragged at least five times there.” Her voice was light in an inexplicable way, like she found some inner peace in the moments they came from the apartment to the monument.

Sakura could guess what this was about. And could guess who was waiting for Hinata at home. 

“Can I go over to your place, uh, later?” 

Hinata kissed her forehead and just whispered ‘fucking always’ before disappearing in a swirl of lilac flowers. 

Before turning his back to her, Sakura spotted a true smile on Kakashi’s face. He’d probably like to pass by before they have to leave.  

Then, Kakashi was already walking in front of her. Her feet were light under her and she knew she was high and he was drunk and things were getting out of their control and fuck.

His shoulders were tense and she knew shit was ‘bout to go down, somehow. They were going to enjoy their spare time with their masochist game of:

"I'm gonna be Hokage, you know?" It was Kakashi’s first imitation. It sucked ass, but it stung, even if she laughed, 

Naruto with his ridiculous orange jumpsuit, that blonde hair that was so, but so similar to Minato's that if you caught a side glance you could pretend it was him, with his huge, sparkling blue eyes and that tantalizing smile. It was contagious. Sour mood didn't exist around Naruto. He was the very description of a sun beam. The boy was annoying and obnoxious and loud as fuck, but to restrain a smile around him was downright impossible. 

They began their stupid shit of a game that only served to put spikes deep in their hearts, but it was a way to pretend, because it was all they fucking had. 

"There's no way I'm gonna day before I become Hokage."

"A Hokage must always walk in front of others."

"There is no shortcut to becoming Hokage."

"I'll be Hokage and then everyone will recognize me".

Take a shot every time Naruto says "Hokage" was the game they were playing. 

Sitting inside his own ear, Kakashi had already an empty bottle of whisky, liquor and gin. To hell with the sake. Sake just reminded them of things they didn't want to think about. 

"Kakashi..." Her voice came loud, echoing with the rain pouring outside.

"Uh."

"How many bottles —"

"To go?" He cut her before she'd get to speak about that. "Eight. That... went?, five."

"How long —"

"Until the booze ends and I go out to buy some? Or summon more?” He scratched the back of his neck, scrunching his nose. “I don't know." He waved his hand dismissively at her. 

"You can't summon booze." She laughed, a small bottle of fuck knows what in her hand.  

"You can always try, can't you?" He took a big gulp from the bottle in his hand — cognac — and played with the lighter in his left hand. The pile of cigarettes was being rearranged by him to look like a fire. 

"You're wasted, Kashi."

"Nope." He held a finger and shook it negatively. "Not yet."

"How wasted do you have to be to get you out of the rain?"

"How high do you have to be to not care about the rain anymore?"

"Wha — You —”

"Sakura, I know. No. Don't." She tried to interrupt and this time he locked his eyes with hers. "I know about it."

"Yes, I told you —"

"I've always known, Sakura."

"Bullshit."

"Explain it to me." He ignored her completely. "Why?"

"Why what?" She was on the defensive, looking like a wounded wolf that was nevertheless ready to bite his hand off. 

"Why painkillers?"

She looked about to deny it, but it would only prolong the inevitable. 

"Do you want one?"

"Are you dealing drugs?" He lifted a mocking eyebrow at the top of the bottle he was drawing. Seven to go.

"Bite me, you bitch." She huffed and took a swing of the booze — cognac. "What the fuc — why do we even drink sake? This is far better." Another big swing. "And stronger." One more and she felt it burn its way down, making her cof.

"Which is it?"

"Vicodin."

"Uh." He eyed the pill and then swallowed it with all but his saliva. "Does that make you a bad influence or a drug dealer giving samples?"

"You're pathetic, you know?" She stole the lighter from his hand and settled on burning her hand just to heal it immediately and burn it again.

"Do you know I almost don't feel it anymore?" She whispered, like a girl telling her friends about her school crush. Fuck, how she wish it was about a stupid school crush. 

"Feel what?"

"Pain."

"Pain." He echoed, eyeing the horizon, his gaze off. 

"Yeah. My body got on automatic when it comes to any body reaction I can control. Breaking poison, alcohol, pain, broken bones, burns, everything. I can't feel pain anymore."

"So why do you take painkillers?"

"So then I don't have to face reality without it."

She fell quiet and they drank in silence. A lightening cut the sky, all its sharp blue and bright grey marching they way down the earth, striking with full force, making the ground shake. 

She saw Kakashi as a lightning bolt. A nature's force, unstoppable, dangerous, unique. Frightening. 

"When you feel pain, your body releases some hormones immediately. That's why self harm exists — that and the mutilation part intrinsic related to self hatred. And that's why it's addictive. We, ninja, don't dwell on pain that much. Living as a civilian is far more fucked up. If you cut your arm, the cut will stay there, bleeding until it naturally pauses and it takes days to heal and sometimes it scars. If you break your leg, it takes months to heal back. We don't. We can't. We have to heal our bones and go back to the fight." She took the bottle he was handing her. His gaze was still far away and she wasn't sure if he was listening. She didn't care. "So without pain the brain doesn't release those hormones. The sinapsis simply understand you're fine. It won't release hormones haphazardly. We need those so we can endure pain. It's the way our body finds to balance itself. From a scientific point of view, our body is marvellous and perfect. My mom used to say that a lot. She believed in God. She always said God made us perfect." She gave a dry chuckle, shaking her head, lost in her memories. 

"You don't?"

She didn't have to ask what

"Not anymore."

"When?"

when did you stop

when did you stop believing in God

"The day Asuma died."

"Asuma?" He turned his dark gaze to her and all she saw in his eyes made the turmoil in it get her dizzy. She was with her gaze unfocused, as if she was looking at him from a fogged glass.

But she knew it was just the drugs. 

"I remember when I had to peel Ino off her bathroom floor. She cried, Kakashi. But she cried in a way I've never seen before. She was like — feral." She turned to look at him. His eyes looked feral. "It was..." She was at a loss of words. 

"Animalistic."

"Yes."

"Surreal."

"Yes."

"The way a mother howls for their child. Have you ever heard of these?" She just nodded, lighting the cigarette he just popped in his mouth. She heard too many mothers howling for their children — and they caused many of that. Maybe that was their karma. 

“I remember." He said, after a while. 

"What?" When he was silent, she tried again. "What do you remember?"

"Ino." He didn't further elaborate. By the look in his eyes he was either gathering his thoughts or just lost in it. The former would lead to a new sentence, the former would lead to utter silence. She didn't want the latter. She hated the latter. 

"What about Ino?"

"How she was. I went to check on her. And Shikamaru and Choji. I know Asuma would do the same for me. To look after you." He looked at her and he just seemed so small right there. So fragile, so human. Not a force of nature, but a victim of it. Wild and afraid. She wishes she could say she's never seen him like this, but she had. Way too many times. After a few years, she realised she wasn't chasing Kakashi's "human" side anymore. She was chasing his lack of emotion, the death in his eyes. He looked too alive right now. Too alive without his own accord. She rather when he buried himself, cause when he did, he found a way to hurt less. "The three of you." He said, after a few heartbeats. "And I heard Shikamaru. I heard his... his scream. And that sound haunts me, everyday. At every dark corner, I can hear it. It was like someone was tearing him apart from inside out. It was desperate. I found too much of myself in it."

They finished the bottle. She wasn't drunk. Just high. He wasn't high. Just drunk. They were pathetic. 

"What do you think Asuma would find in your place?"

He paused opening the bottle and gave it real thought. Agonising was what she could read in his eyes. She just couldn't place why or for whom. 

"What I found." The day they died — was left unsaid. 

That day. 

That sunny day that ended in a morgue's cold table, with its lights too bright, revealing too much, remembering her all too well — remembering her they were dead, at her feet. 

She OD'd that day. Kakashi was the one who found her, after the ceremony. 

"You looked like a caged animal chewing its own leg in order to escape in between the bars. You looked just like my grandma's pot plant — white, pale, colourish here and there, but mostly broken. Smattered. Pure smithereens laid on the hard floor." He took a big gulp and laughed without any humour. "Poetic much, uh?" Another gulp, a deep sigh, a deep drag. "I saw Ino."

They returned to the beginning of the conversation. 

"I saw Ino." She repeated. 

And that was it. 

I saw Ino — and underneath was her ire towards God.

Was her repulse for the thought alone of believing in some higher force, some benevolente omniscient being, watching over them. The point wasn't that God has forsaken them. That he had left them. Left the human race to perish by their own hands. It wasn't the cliche of ‘If God exists, then how he allows such disgrace? The war He brings, the babies He drowns.’ Those are man's fault. God has nothing to do with the cruelty of man. It is up to them to take responsibility for their actions. To pursue forgiveness, to be better, to try as he might to fix their mess. God has no business in humanity horrifying ugly faces. 

God has nothing to do with it. There is no God on the battlefield. In the ache, the gravity, yearning, thirst, craving for blood — blood and disgrace and death. God has no business in Asuma's death, no business in Hidan's wicked ravenous taste for death. No. God has forbidden. Forbidden in fucking in the bushes, growing long hair, kissing in between the alleyways, rebelling, dishonoring your parents, crashing skulls and burning the holy word to ashes. God has forbidden. 

But God has forsaken. There is no God in the field, in the front lines. But God is love, isn't it? Isn't war born from love?

You might think that war was born by hatred — yet, hatred is only born through love. Watching love, those you love perish, brings you hatred. And you can't swallow it once it's settled. 

War will exist forever, as long as love, pain — that came from love — and hatred — that was bred from love — there will always be death, there will always be revenge, there will always be bloodshed. 

The human being doesn't know life without love therefore and because they don't know life without war. 

Love, love will always and forever break your heart. 

(And everything attached to it.)

So, no, Sakura doesn't hate God for the usual excuses. She hates God invented love and all the heartache that came with it, that's what drives you towards suicide and slits your throat in the middle of the night. The blind faith was their doom. And where was God when she was burning her lungs out, learning more about him by swallowing pills? You found God in between the cracks of the wall you are puking your lungs of — but He isn't there. He isn't. It is you and your addiction and your hallucinations alone, running shaking hands through cracks of the alley's bare wall. 

So she saw Ino. Kakashi saw Ino. And seeing Ino was the only thing they needed to tell each other.

And, if seeing Ino wasn't enough, seeing Naruto was. 

"You?"

"I saw my father."

I saw my father was heavier than seeing Ino, but it held the same sour taste in your mouth.  Blood tastes divine when compared to the bile of facing grief. 

He bit his tongue so hard that blood filled his mouth and he was grateful for it. The iron taste was what kept him from throwing up his father figure on the floor. His small feet never felt so tiny and he, he never felt so small. It was like the shadows were consuming him and swallowing his body and mind and he would succumb to its spiral of madness.

(He doesn't know anymore how many times he sat on the stained floor, his father's tanto in his hand and contemplated the same destiny. Maybe it was Destiny, indeed. Depression is hereditary, so how can someone fathom him as secure, as safe, as sane? He was none. So many times he sat at the stained floor, his father's tanto in his hands and wished the blood that was soaking through him was his own. Not Rin's. That he crumbled his own heart, burnt it, ripped his ribcage. He was supposed to be dead, not all of them. And yet, here he was. Drinking for the dead. Cheering his disgrace at the clink of glasses and fireworks that marked every new year — every new year he was and they weren't. Alcohol never made him forget, but it made things foggy enough for him to breathe.)

Just as Sakura was to reach for him to get him out of his transe, a black hair fell in front of them, the drops of rain so heavy it soaked the ground making the sand-ish soil sink. Her hair was now reaching past her bottom and it seemed to be pulling her down to the ground, all that black curtain covering her eyes. When she lifted her head, Kakashi saw for the first time the scar over her left eye — so alike his own. It was already over six years, but he never got to see it so clearly as now. The rain washed the sky clear and her pale eyes seemed to shine, making the scar pop up, daring him to look away. He knew his own scar always seemed vivid on days like this. For some reason, it seemed almost right seeing her like this. 

"Hinata?" Sakura called lowly beside him. "What's wrong?"

Apparently, to Kakashi, seeing Hinata was the last drop to overflow his already too full glass. 

"Naruto should be here." He said between his teeth, a maniac edge on his voice. "He should be here. The fucker should be here. Wasn't he the one that claimed at the top of his lungs he wouldn't die before becoming Hokage?" He was at his feet, all the anger bubbling around him, just as Kurama's chakra did when Naruto was younger. A ugly shade of bright red bubbling and feverish. "Why the fuck isn't he here? Why the fuck did he made stupid promises he couldn't keep?" Kakashi threw one bottle at the stone wall with such strength it cracked, forming a hole. 

Sakura wanted to scream at the top of her fucking lungs. She was going to talk to Kakashi about his fucking addiction today, but he was too fucking wasted when she arrived. 

That stupid silly "game" of theirs usually didn't end well. They had destroyed an absurdity of Training Grounds and picked up numerous fights — especially outside the Village. They liked to let go of their frustrations on rogue ninjas when it came to their bottled up feelings about Naruto's death. In the middle of a fucking War, that was way too reckless. 

Now, looking at Hinata in front of her, her thoughts were all over the place. 

No matter how much you change, you can't never strip from your bones. Hinata would always have her big eyes and sweet voice, all wrapped up in a doll face and angelic image was a killing force no one ever thought she would be, but now she was. Her bones remained, but her flesh burnt and built up again so many times she was like raw meat in a morgue and you just can't distinguish. 

It's pure biology. The genotype doesn't change, as it is your DNA, but the phenotype does, freely. You can be born white as a canvas and die at 92 looking like Choji's barbecue depending on where you live. You adapt and that's what they did, the soldier child. They were born sweet little white babies and died roasted breads that were forgotten in the stove. 

Sakura once wondered how Hinata would see her and Naruto if she knew the truth about who and how they were in Team 7. Until she found out she was just as much an assassin as she or Kakashi. 

The exterior changes and Hinata's eyes were cold, cold like the rain pouring over their heads. Cold like the realisation that probably everyone alive had slept with everyone at this rate — or would. 

"Hin," Sakura started approaching her carefully. What could've happened in such short notice to change Hinata's demeanour like that? "what's wrong?" 

Hinata turned her back to her, but she could see her activating her Byakugan before. For a few moments, the woman just escorted their surroundings. She didn't ask about Kakashi's breakdown or anything. Hinata always knew the moment to talk about things or if talk about them at all. 

When she turned to Sakura, her gaze was pure stone, her lips set on a tense line. 

And all she offered was a word:

"Naruto."

three years before

Kakashi was out of sake.

That was his first thought as he woke up on the couch. His back hurt and his eyes burned. He sat down to a flask on his fist. He ain't been sober since maybe October of last year. 

The day was way too hot and he was already late. Really late. The fucking elders bothered him for what seemed months —it had been six days — for a meeting. a meeting at 9 A.M. 

Really?

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 

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

It was 12:37 P.M.

He had to take a shower and eat something and find some clean vests and search for something with alcohol in his fridge. That would take, at least, an hour. but, well, he was already late. 

He decided to go for a shower first. He opened it, tossed his clothes haphazardly and stepped into it, the water way too hot, but he didn't have it in him to change it. It would have grown colder anyway. He had almost a beard now. Pale, gray beard. He didn't look old, though. He looked just the same for almost ten years. Some days he stared at the mirror, hoping something would change, hoping he could become someone else. It was dramatic, but he couldn't face himself anymore. He couldn't stare too long at his reflection, truth be told. 

The longer he stared, the blurrier his eyes grew and then in his mind his facial expression would change, always a flashback, always a déjà vu, always the same scowl, hot traces of tears, the tan line of his mask and all but covered in blood. 

Naruto 's blood. 

12.08.09 – 8:03 PM

When he first walked into his bathroom, three years ago, covered in blood, dirty, grass, vomit, he had to hold himself still at the sink or he would fall — fall apart, fall away, fall fatly on the cold floor. He looked up at the mirror and that was an action he regretted. He looked in the mirror and that was what he regretted the most. 

He was a mess. Beneath all the mud, blood, grass, dirt and sweat, the most recognizable point was the gray hair that was tossed in every possible direction; even the well known scar was covered. His hands were shaking so much that when he tried to remove his gloves he realised it was a futile effort and he resumed his ritual from so many years that it seemed as it if were centuries as it seemed as if it were the first time: he turned on the tap to the maximum and tried to wipe the blood off his hands. The water came out almost black, but the blood didn't come out. Perhaps the problem was that the blood was in the tissue and not in the skin. He ripped off one of the gloves with his teeth and his hand was as covered in blood as his glove was and no matter how much he rubbed his hands, the blood wouldn't come out. It was just like the nightmares he used to have after Rin's death. 

Too many people died either by his hands or in his hands. 

At some point, a part of his brain realised that the water that fell in the sink was no longer black or red, but a faint shade of pink, but for him it was the same as having his hands drenched in blood, the consistency so sticky it was difficult to flex your fingers, as if the blood would turn into a gum that melts in your hand and sticks perpetually.

The sight of himself in the mirror would hunt him for eternity. 

The sun was about to set. They had just brought their bodies back. 

When he finally managed to pull Sakura's body from theirs, his knees weakened and he had to use all of his years of composure not to fall right there without knowing when or if he would be able to get up. He couldn't pass out there like he did when he his own hand lacerating Rin's organs, his hands piercing her chest, the smell of burning flesh, the slimy blood that wouldn't, just wouldn't go away, the blood slipping from the corner of her mouth to the worst sound he had ever heard in his life: "Kakashi—"

("Sakura, you have to let go." He put his hand over hers, squeezing, but with minimal strength, just enough to show her he was there, even if it meant basically nothing. Her sobs were tearing her throat, as they were dry and tearing his too, as there was nothing he could do. "Sakura —" she just shook her head, her eyes closed, the tears froze in her eyelids, but the cascade still left black traces in her face. He whipped them all with his thumbs, wanting to whip the pain away from her, anything. "Sak, you have to let go."

"I can't." She managed, after sometime, where the quiet made itself at home. Her voice was just a dry leaf being stepped on. "If I let go, I will fall and — won't want to get up."

He knew the feeling oh so very well. They lost too many in the past years, but losing those who are close to you, those whom you consider family, shatters the ground at your feet and it's a free fall.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked up, his eyes stung at the sight in front of him: with a gash on her forehead and swollen red eyes, striking against the pale, almost white ones, was Hinata Hyuga. Kneed on the ground, trying to hold on to and hold Sakura, Kakashi felt the first tears finally sting his eyes. He still remembered the day Neji almost stopped her heart at the Chunnin exams, one lifetime ago. Now, she was asking him to take a step back so she could talk to Sakura, so she could comfort her, even if her heart was supposed to be even more broken. 

The blood from the ugly wound on her forehead was dripping to her eyes, making it look like she was crying blood — and maybe she was. And, yet, Hinata was cool enough to go through this, go through their bodies, through his body on the floor and stand still. 

Just like he missed Sakura, he failed to recognize how much Hinata had grown, had changed. How much of a Warrior she was. They weren't mere humans anymore. 

He took a step back and the girl immediately knelt at Sakura's side, like she actually belonged there, like it wasn't the first time they stopped each other's panic attacks.

Hinata's voice was small, but strong when she spoke. It was like a mother caressing its child's hair: soothing.

"I am here to catch you. I know I'm not much, but —"

Sakura let go of them and threw herself onto her, almost dropping both of them on the floor. 

Life (war) taught Sakura not to keep her heart on her sleeve. She was not the girl Kakashi once met, so she wasn't one of public displays of affection. But a situation like that required kicking buckets and throwing all the fucks you don't give. 

Her face was hurried in the other woman's neck, her hands fisting her torn shirt, spreading blood in both of them. She wasn't actually crying anymore, the tears spilling from her eyes were muscle memory and her breath was too ragged, too unsteady. 

"Breathe." Hinata whispered to her hair, as she seemed to be losing control quickly. "Sakura," she commanded, "breathe."

Her breaths were coming out too fast, too unsteady and she was hyperventilating, her chest too fast and the air wasn't getting properly to her lungs.

Hinata grabbed her face with both hands and she was forced to look at her. She saw so much pain in there, she wanted to wipe her memory clean, make her forget any of them ever existed, give her a new life. But, the truth is, she wouldn't survive doing so and she was selfish to this level. (Sakura was her fucking best friend, after and before it all. They fell into this life together.)

So she just brought their lips together.

It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.

It fit perfectly. Sakura's mouth tasted like salt and regret and Hinata tasted like sorrow and begged for forgiveness. And when she responded, Hinata knew she did. 

It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. 

It was messy. Her face was plastered in sweat and blood, pink hair turned into red, as her hands and it spread around them, as the other's mud, grass, dirt and own blood spread into her. It was a passionate kiss. It was a desperate kiss. It could barely be called a kiss. It was two souls colliding in the best way they found in order not to explode themselves into hopelessness.

Hinata was worshipping her for all she was, trying to tell her to stay, stay with her, to know she wouldn't let go, no matter what. Asking her to forgive her for being too late.

Even through the frantic desperation and bloodied chapped lips, she tasted like the devil and all the sins were worthy for being with her.

When they parted for air, their foreheads touching she said a weak 'thank you' and there was no time to ask her what she was thanking her for as Sakura rose to her feet and walked away, barking her orders just as the Hyuga heiress did the same.

It all only lasted seconds, but it was enough to dawn on Kakashi, for his part, to be glad to know that she was not alone, even though one of the biggest parts of their lives just had been ripped from their very hands. As this thought crossed his mind, he yelled louder.)

For one that grew in a battlefield, death shouldn't shake him this much, but it did nevertheless. His mind was blank like a canvas and just like a canvas red dots and spreads were appearing all over. He wasn't a blank canvas anymore. You couldn't see the whiteness of the canvas anymore under all those layers of red, layers of blood. 

But he was the leader, not just their Team Leader, their Captain, but the leader of the Rescue Party. Dozens of people were counting on his actions in the moment. 

So he lifted himself up and ordered someone to deliver the word to Tsunade. He found out it was Lady Katsuyu, but at that moment he couldn't care less. He swallowed the bile that was threatening to spill. He couldn't throw up like the Hyuga boy. Fucking Hinata Hyuga found it on her not to throw up, even though she looked like she detached herself from reality just enough. He took a few seconds to recompose and gathered Naruto's body from the floor. 

"We need the emergency scroll."

There were dozens of emergency scrolls, each with its own level of emergency. Yellow, pale green, orange, green, red, purple and black. They handed him the black one and rolled it open at his feat. He positioned in the right mark and gave another command. He and Naruto were the ones that developed those scrolls.

"I need three people to come with me. N—" he choked and took a calming breath "Naruto is with me. Someone else—" he didn't have to finish the order: Someone else should pick Sasuke's body. 

Despite being shaken to the core, his voice was firm and they obeyed within seconds, despite their own chock. 

In a dazzling swirl they were at the gates.

Popping from the tin air, that was it. They just brought their bodies back. No one knew. The village lay untouched and ignorant of the ocean of their deaths. The shinobi and the civilians were cooking dinner or napping, unaware of the shake the world just received. They were oblivious and ignorant in their bless. Kakashi never wished so hard to be albeit, to be immune, to be blissfully blind to this shred of life, to be a regular man, troubled on bills and not bile. 

He wasn't. 

He carried his body to the Hokage tower and when he finally reached the door of the office, Tsunade was staring already at the door and her eyes were glassy and bloodshot red, her honey coloured irises spilling on her face as a crackling leaf in the autumn. Her cheeks were hollow and she looked older — older that she was. It was a sixty year old woman, not the beauty queen in her twenties, staring at him, at the body in his arms. 

In the dim light of just a few lights up, she looked like she belonged there, at the Hokage's Office, tall and imposing, even at all the glory of her disgrace, standing with her arms crossed in front of her chest, one of her fingers being powdered by the way she was chewing on it. She looked like she belonged there, in the hat and robe, beside the desk, giving orders and making decisions. He didn't. But, even then, she was a cover. She was playing his part as he slipped out. 

The rescue patrol was a low key mission he went, for the Hokage couldn't just leave the city to go on missions — missions to back up his former students, not drag their dead bodies back. 

The mission was supposed to be as simple as it could get. He should've been out for just a week top, but there'd been over a month already. The rescue took longer than expected and, apparently, too long. Too late. 

Somehow, the village didn't notice he was gone. He was an introvert for as long as people could remember. It was like he was born under the shadow of a cave and remained there.

About a month ago he tricked the Slug Princess. He asked her to check something up at the Hokage table he wasn’t used to managing since it was her personal drawer and he didn’t have to look there for the past years. It was 8 o'clock when she showed up. Kakashi was sitting at the end of the chair with fingers intertwined and chin resting over them, in a way that Tsunade herself used to do. His eyes burned into hers and she raised one eyebrow, the honey melting exactly as Descartes once described: you boil it with water and carefully handle it not to splash heated, boiling, bubbling water into yourself; if you boil the water too much (if you rile Tsunade too much) it will lose its good benelovents property;  once in the water, don't put too much pressure on the lid because if you do you can generate a pressure that will crack the glass. But, most importantly, don't let a drop fall in any place of your body — it will burn like hell and it will stink. Her eyes were Descartes: melted honey turning to crystallize — hard to break and almost unrecognizable. 

She knew something was off. He stood up and gesticulated in the most chavarious way for her to sit down and leaned on the opposed end of the table as she opened the drawer. A bunch of hand seals finally opened the wood dispositive; she only had to stock sake and some info regarding possible mules in the village. When she saw a small scroll inside the drawer, which should have at least 5 sake bottles and 20 fillers, it was when it hit her. She looked up and was about to yell at him when he disappeared in a poof of smoke. 

Only a scroll rested with a box neatly packed with a green ribbon attached to it and a note. She crumpled the parchment in her hands until it practically fell apart. 

“You can kill me later. Out for the boys. You’re better than me at this”

He was asking her to cover up to him ‘cause he went on a rampage to look for Naruto and Sasuke, just for backup. He shouldn’t and wouldn’t need to do that, but his fingers were always tingling to go back in the field. She felt the same. 

Somehow, the village didn't notice he was gone. He was an introvert. It was more usual and expected to don’t see him than actually seeing him. The elders realised two weeks ago, Pakkun told him. It took them long enough, even though he would be fine and extremely happy if they never noticed or just choked on their tea. They demanded him to come back immediately. He told them to go fuck themselves — that was what Pakkun told Tsunade and he had no idea what she said to them. He hopped she quoted. Those two were as good as dead and he was dying to say it straight to their faces for many, many years now. He was cool. He didn't get riled up easily. But, when he crossed the gates, and Izumo ran in his direction saying the Council wanted to meet him, he saw red. His killer intent never spoke so loudly. In all those year as an assassin he never felt the will to kill someone just as he was itching on it at the moment. He couldn’t believe they were so cold. 

The boys were dead. Naruto's lifeless body was in his arms. The Elder choked to silence when he noticed his words cut short. Looking everywhere but his eyes.

Naruto's lifeless body was in his arms and they knew it and they wanted to meet him. They had to be fucking kidding. 

If they dared to open their mouths at the moment, Hokage or not, he would rip off their tongues and make them choke on it. 

He probably looked like hell, as he entered the office and they just stood in silence in a corner, just as spiteful and old as always. Shizune was openly crying, short sobs leaving her shaking body. 

He didn't know who had Sasuke's body, he realised at that moment. He didn't know who was there with him, who was his scout team. He didn't care. He couldn't look down at Naruto just as much as he couldn't look at Sasuke. 

They used a scroll to come back. They popped three yards away from the Hokage tower and he made his way up there without noticing. his mind was twirling. his eyes didn't see anything but that scene in front of him. He didn't see anything. It was like he was stuck in a genjutsu — a genjutsu that would make Tsukuyomi jealous. 

Fuck. Itachi. 

What would Itachi say — what was he going to say to Itachi? He was on an undercover mission at the Stone for the past three months and just now they retrieved his brother. Dead.

All he could see was that

Their bodies at the floor –

He couldn't dwell on that. Even if it seemed it was he could, would see forever, his mind kept hiding, making him think about anything else. 

It shouldn't shake him that much. It wasn't like he didn't see his loved ones dead before, but that was something else. 

They were under his tutelage. 

Minato-sensei trusted him. Itachi trusted him. Sakura trusted him. They trusted him. 

He swore he wouldn't let them die. Any of his comrades would not die under his watch anymore. 

Where did it go wrong? 

When

Why

His mind was telling him that the office wasn't the right place to dump a body, but he couldn't walk to the morgue. He vowed that the only time he came back there was when he himself was dead. He couldn't, just, stare at someone he loved under those cold, way too bright lights. 

Slowly, he kneed and put the body carefully on the ground. Someone beside him did the same with Sasuke. He saw the elders stiffen and, there, he knew the destiny of his body already. 

A traitor

A disgrace

A criminal

He wouldn't have a funeral or a grave or anything. He was going to meet his father's destiny: somewhere outside the village, hushed and quiet, where no one would look for him, no one would know where his body lay. (Naruto wouldn't let this happen. He would fight like hell. He'd make a grave for himself. He would try to, but they were going to eat him down somehow. And he wasn't the legend Naruto was. He was the Hokage but, right there, it didn't seem to matter.)

He rose up very, very quietly, unable to lift his head and meet Tsunade's eyes. Then, he backed out. He walked away without turning around, face to the ground, but eyeing Naruto — and now Sasuke. 

He gave short slow paces the direction of the door, not turning around until he met the wall, not being able to rip his eyes from the scene in front of him — Naruto, not glowing, not smiling, not loud talking, not hyperactive; Naruto, motionless, laid flat on the floor, all splashed out cause he was that torn, quiet, even his orange clothing hard to see in middle of dirt and blood, blood, blood, his blonde hair damp and red, almost as red as Gaara's, but darker, sadier, nauseating crimson red. Sasuke, not snorting, not averting his eyes, not glowing in anger and revenge, no madness in his dark orbs, no Itachi, no destruction; Sasuke, motionless, skin darker with degree burnt, ripped clothing, his darker than the darkness itself, his face, for once, showing emotion, but the emotion was raw, pure pain and he wished with all his mighty that if he closed his eyes for long enough, he would be back at his blank expression. Kakashi wished with all he had in him that if he closed his eyes for long enough, if he repeated enough times to himself that that was impossible, that hasn't happened, that it was all a twisted nightmare, when he opened his eyes again he would be staring at his blank ceiling, dwelling on the relief of a terrible nightmare. He could close his eyes forever, but nothing would change. They would just rot and turn into dust and worm's food. 

When his back met the wall, he ran.

Kakashi Hatake ran. He ran like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

When he made it home he hurried to the bathroom, just in time to throw up in the sink — he wouldn't reach the toilet in time. And there, 

there, in the dust mirror, he saw the next thing that glued on the back of his eyelids for what seemed forever: him, panting, hot, sweaty face glimmering in the dim light, an unknown scowl, hot traces of tears, the tan line of his mask and all but covered in blood. 

Naruto's blood

He was covered in his blood. God. He was covered in his blood. His mind kept echoing, like a mantra, a prayer, a broken record.

His brain couldn't hide anymore. He couldn't dodge the thoughts, pretend, run away. 

He was covered in Naruto's blood because Naruto was dead

Naruto was dead

The world swallowed him as he fell on the shadows. Somewhere inside him his brain registered that he hit the wall too hard and he had a concussion, he knew that. The pain in his head wasn't acknowledged. Anything was foreign to him. All but the fact that Naruto was dead.

And it was his fault.

eight years before

"Ok, that's—"

"Trouble."

"Fucked up." said Naruto and Tsunade at the same time, respectively.

"Woah, Granny, save us a piece of your mind."

"Shut it, brat." The ex Hokage leaned on the railing of the wall. "This is complicated. The mule really isn't stupid and it's using everything in its power to cause us trouble. Unfortunately..." she sighed and looked at Kakashi "I can't call it, it's not my position anymore, but you know what I would do, Kakashi."

Kakashi nodded and filled his glass, leaving other glasses and the bottle at the table, for everyone that wanted to pour it themselves. Kakashi drank and set his glass back on the table and filled it again. Everyone had their own glasses full and another bottle popped up already.

"Tenzo," he began, putting down his empty cup again "we will have to take you off duty and have you checked as well as followed." 

Yamato nodded, his eyes down, and drank eagerly, the strong drink cutting its way down his throat. 

"I understand." He said solemnly. 

"I don't!" Naruto blurted out. "If we take him away and spy on him, aren't we giving them exactly what they want? Make us suspicious of each other, as you said, sensei?"

"Naruto," Sakura began gently "we trust Captain Yamato, but it is something we have to do. It's protocol. As soon as we finish, he will be able to come back. But we need to have proof to anyone that might want to interfere that he is innocent."

Just as she finished, an ANBU girl knocked on the door. She stepped in and took the mask off. It was Hanabi, Hinata's sister. She was an almost undercover operative. As her sister took the front lines, Hanabi did the dirty job underneath the covers. She grew up to be quite a great soldier, but they also needed good people off the field and Hanabi fit the job description perfectly. Nowadays, although, it wasn't discussed anymore who would be the heiress of the clan. That shit wasn't important. There wouldn't be the need of any heiress if there wasn't any land left for the clan to live. Truth is, all eyes were back on Hinata but neither sister gave a fuck about the politic.

Yet, Hanabi wasn't due to show up to make a full report in yet four other days. If she was there, something happened.

"What is it, Hanabi?" Kakashi calmly demanded, not using her ANBU codename, once she took off her mask. Only those who knew him well could see the stress on him, like the way he was holding his glass so tight it might break at any second or how eyebrows were scrunched so tight it would only that a curl of his lips for him to snarl.

"There's been an attack. Not an ambush this time. The civilian village nearby was attacked. Twelve deaths were already confirmed, but the odd part is that six women went missing."

"How do you know it is six specifically?"

Hanabi hesitated and looked around the room. It wasn't that she didn't trust the people in the room, it was that she didn't want to deliver the news at all. 

Hanabi was no coward. She had to kneel in front of her Hokage and talk about deaths of babies and entire mission failures, where she escaped barely alive and was the only survivor. She has delivered bad news already, but she knew what those meant. Some part inside her wishes she didn't.

"There was a path from the door of each victim in the direction of the center of the village. They were carved in the ground, as if something heavy was dragged to make them, except it was on fire. The" she hesitated again and then swallowed it "six paths were marked in fire, each of them with one letter written in blood right at the middle forming a sentence."

The room grew cold and all the booze in their system did shit to warm them. Sakura's hands were shaking when she clenched them into fists and Naruto's jaw was locked so tightly his teeth hurt. Tsunade was trying to take deep breaths to control her temper and Yamato was doing his best to keep his blood on his face. Kakashi, as the Hokage, was the one that wasn't showing any external reaction, but there was a storm forming outside.

So, they left a message carved in fire. 

"Which was?"

"Miss me?"

Kakashi's glass broke. 

Hanabi didn't even flinch. She, herself, basically melted a kunai when saw the message on the floor, the fire licking her face. 

Six people were dragged, making a path — no, making six paths. Six paths that probably hurt like hell to make. Six paths of pain to leave the message "Miss me?" to them.

"Six paths." He whispered to himself and then voiced the very same thing they were all thinking. "They're back."

Outside, a thunder rolled and struck a tree, setting it on fire. 

'Cause that's how you do it: you fight fire with fire and, in the end, everyone will get burned.

Tsunade was known ever since her birth by all, behind the granddaughter of the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju. She was known for many things other than that, craving, through years, a reputation for herself. 

One of the things that Tsunade wasn't known for was a liar. 

And, yet…

She was a genius. There is a tendency in remembering only the genius in the male perspective, so, people tend to overlook things like how young she was when she graduated, how incredibly well valued she was in her data or her feats other than drink, gamble and be freakishly strong. She had Uzumaki blood in her veins and Uzumaki are a fucking respectable clan that died within Naruto's mother, Kushina Uzumaki, and there's no bigger shame than that — except that, yes, that are much bigger shames than Tsunade herself never had made an effort to remember society of the blood running in her veins was from one of the most powerful clans from the Leaf, other than just the Senju. Tsunade also never made an effort on being there for Naruto, despite knowing his parents and, as above mentioned, being blood family with the Jinchuriki that suffered through a shit life and could've turned into a demon monster like Gaara did, but she never did nothing about it. As she did nothing about Orochimaru, leaving Jiraiya to chase him, leaving the man she knew that loved her to feel like an utter failure and just running away. Because that's what Tsunade did: she ran away. 

Tsunade, the Slug Princess, the granddaughter of the First Hokage, the Fifth Hokage herself, all the titles you might give her, ran away. 

One may call her a coward, one may defend her. One may call her on simply never doing shit about Jiraiya, who obviously loved her and she obviously had feelings for him too, but it was easy to run away from him than engage something, then trying, compromising, staying. Jiraiya ran just as much as Tsunade did, so both were to blame, but she never once tried to make him stay. Never once considered how the fuck he felt in the middle of all that.

Just as she didn't consider how Kakashi felt. 

Tsunade didn't change much from when she ran away from the Village, 18 years ago, from how, rescued by Naruto and ready to play by the Have Faith, Don't Give Up, Fight for It Book. 

One may call Tsunade a coward — and they wouldn't be wrong.

six years before

"Does he know?"

The Slug Princess sighed from behind her pile of papers, massaging her temple. 

"About what specifically?"

The silence that came after her question almost made her wince, when his answer came all dressed up in politeness. 

"About the entire situation, milady."

"I believe not."

"May I ask why?"

"You did ask already, didn't you?" Her retort didn't come out as rude as she planned and, even if it did, he was impassable. 

"Would you answer?"

"Drop that shit." She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't want to meet his gaze. Not now, not ever. Those eyes wouldn't lie. They would be like a clean, shiny mirror and she would choke on her guilt. 

"Why haven't you told him yet, Tsunade?" He finally lifted himself from the floor, where he was still leaning respectfully. Maybe that fact was one that stung the most: he treated her with respect, despite all else. 

"Do you drink?" 

Tsunade started to rummage under her desk, looking for her glasses and that bottle of some weird strong shit he brought her from the Land of Iron. 

"You told me to "drop that shit", so I would be very much pleased if you did the same." Even still, he had a polite tone. How the fuck? Do they teach that shit at the Academy? How to be polite with someone that screwed up big time? 

"I — why should I?"

"Because if you don't, I will." That made her eyes snap straight to his face and oh, fuck, she regretted. His black eyes locked into hers with so much strength she felt her belly being pulled at. She would fear a genjutsu trap, if his sharingan was on (some deep part inside her wanted him to just trap her under a genjutsu and take the wheels, make her spill her guts, so she wouldn't have to deal with this burden. Though, she knew he would ever do that. Was it for loyalty or, now, for anger, she would never be able to tell). There was so much to read in his eyes, so much she has been avoiding for almost a year now. 

"I forbid you." 

His lip quivered up in a phantom of a smile, just the right corner lifting, making his handsome face look even more handsome and making her guts shrug. 

"You do not own me." He said, yet oh so polite.

"Do not do that. You know what's in the line." 

She all but shoved the glass into his hands while she walked past him in the direction of the window, desperate to get away from his gaze, only to remember that her Anbu office had a window that faced a genjutsu wall, casting the shadow of what the real day, thirty feet above, was like. And it was raining and she felt like shit looking at a brick wall with fake rain and bad decisions. 

"Your tongue is sealed." He said, barely above a whisper, just the way his voice was, into the end of the glass he had just finished. Tsunade turned around so abruptly to look at him that her booze spilled out on her blouse, but she didn't feel. 

"How —"

"The risk was too big. I know you would never, ever sell out a comrade, but anyone could invade your mind and take hold of that information, so it had to be done."

"How the fuck do you know about it?"

"I was the one that gave the idea."

"You insolent brat —"

"That's what Danzo did." He cut her in the middle of her attempt to raise a fit. "It is close to inhuman, but you know very well that absolutely nothing could leak out."

"Yeah, I do know very fucking well. I was the Hokage."

"No, Tsunade." He sighed in defeat, putting his glass on the desk he was leaning to. When he lifted his eyes again, she wished he didn't. Fucking eyes. "If our encounter leaked it could be used as a weapon in many forms, because in the right hands it could trig memories and I know that in my hands or in his, we have chakra blockers that would destroy our brains before it ever came to that, but if someone ever got to the knowledge of what you read about the Afterlife of the Pain's attack report, I have no fucking idea how big the mess would become."

"Boy, I have lived a war you weren't even born —"

"But you are a straight woman." He cut her, amidst she keeping on talking 

"And I —" then, she stopped. Stopped and really thought about that day and what she read. "You're not… you're not… I mean, are you —"

"I am gay, Lady Tsunade. It is okay, it won't bite you." His face broke into a sincere smile, that turned into a sad one in the next second and then died, leaving a sour taste in the mouth. "But in the wrong hands it would cause much more damage than we would be able to counterattack, despite my connections with the Village currently. It would fuck up all the past activities, deals, trades, missions… People don't know what to do with a gay man working with them or for them. A lot of my missions of that time could be revisited and many deaths, abductions and unthinkable things could be connected to me. Especially, considering how strict my clan had always been."

Tsunade swallowed a hard pill. She knew it was true. People don't have to hide their sexual orientation anymore, yet it is still something the enemy uses. They still distort completely what happened to their advantage. And if they knew he was gay and at such an young age.

"And you know the heaviest burden would fall upon him, because of my —"

"Because of your age." Tsunade finished his sentence and massaged her temple, sending some chakra into her nervous system, trying to ease the migraine that was clawing into her brain. "Gimme the bottle — nah, pour some for yourself, now give me." They drank in silence for a while. "It would fuck him up completely. Shit." 

"We couldn't let that happen. My reputation was already gone and they could dig some shit up, but nothing would be worse than" he swallowed, disgusted by the word and clearly disgusted by some memory attached to it. "being accused of being a pedophile."

"I gave you my reason, Lady Tsunade. I would appreciate it if you gave me yours."

"He thinks you're another one that was brought back and sent back-back —you know, that was sealed, like they all were in the beginning of this mess."

"What?" 

This time, Tsunade did wince and crawled a bit inside herself.

Shit fuck damn fuckfuck

That's why she didn't want to become Hokage. The politics involved in between were a punishment for all the shit she's done. She couldn't even begin to picture what Sakura would think of her, hiding this, hiding something of this magnitude. Something that directly influenced the life of the whole Team 7 and could change the dynamics of the War itself. Yet, it was too risky for her to put her ass in the line and just trash about it. 

"He thinks I'm dead?"

"I… I am afraid so."

"Why the f—"

"I don't know why you are so upset about it. Everyone thought Shisui was dead too."

"It was because Shisui commited suicide. Openly. He committed suicide, leaving a suicide letter explaining the reasons behind his suicide's reason to commit suicide." 

"But he didn't come out as alive for ten years."

"He didn't want to. I didn't choose this. I… I didn't know he thought I was dead. I just thought… I just thought he decided not to talk to me anymore." He gave a humorless laugh that made Tsunade's blood go cold. "He told me once that he met a guy that told him this story about his boyfriend. They were young and reckless, fighting all the time like kids, always breaking up and coming back together. Until one day they had a fight and he just disappeared. Years later, this guy went after him and met his family, who told him he had died three years ago. As he was still in the closet, his family didn't know him, didn't know about them. He just assumed the guy decided not to talk to him anymore."

Tsunade felt a wave of guilt so grave overcoming her chest she felt just like a teenager again. She couldn't even imagine how something like that could be. How someone feels in this type of situation.

Her throat felt like it was closing up, just like when the news that Jiraya was dead hit her.

The kid thought he didn't want to talk to him again. Him and the guy from the story she was just told about. How fucking tragic love can be, wrecking your soul with all the unspoken things you always think there will be a better opportunity for.

"I am sorry, but…" he lifted his hand and cut her off.

"Why didn't Obito tell him?"

"Obito thought you were dead too."

"Why?"

"I told him that."

His eyes met hers, the black looked like dying charcoal reflecting the fake light outside. A thunder rolled and his expressions were accentuated, making him look dangerous. She knew he would never do anything against her, but still her fists closed.

"So, you're the only one that knows I'm alive?"

"I was… no. No. Someone else knows."

"Who?"

"Shisui Uchiha."

"I figured so. How and why did you lie to him? Obito wasn't fooled during the War, was he?"

"Itachi, I am sorry. I can't tell Kakashi now that you are alive. You need to operate from the shadows. At least, until I recover your full sight."

"Is this something you are sure of?"

"Sakura is running tests with me."

"How so?"

"Shisui —"

"Ain't she Sakura as Sasuke's team mate?"

Tsunade felt like slapping herself in the face. She was digging her grave more and more. 

"Yes."

"You're lying to her too?"

The bottle was already over, too soon. She should drink less and do the right thing more often. 

"Yes."

He nodded, looking at the floor. 

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't a woman to show vulnerability or to lower her head, but she knew when to admit she was wrong and she was so very fucking wrong in this situation she could feel the guilt swallowing her.

Itachi showed up at her doorstep (literally) seven weeks ago, covered in mud and blood, smelling like the Hell he probably escaped from. The men who were able to overwhelm Itachi Uchiha better put this in their curriculum, because oh boy. From what he told her, he was captured during the War and fell under the Tsukuyomi, which gave his opponents the upper hand, even if barely. He was blind already and extremely weak from fighting Sasuke, escaping with barely a trick Kisame helped him pull off. 

He did die. For five hours. 

He pulled off the same thing Haku did with Zabuza, piercing his vital points, making it seem he was dead. Then, he exchanged his body with a simple copy of his own and, well, fuck Obito. Apparently, he didn't make out the difference from his own body to the fake, just as the Rock nin didn't make out Hiashi was Hizashi Hyuga all those years ago. When Obito did notice, he was too busy with a War under his hands to chase Itachi and, apparently Tsunade told him he had died and for Kakashi and the rest he was brought back with the Reanimation jutsu and then sealed away — which he fucking wasn't. He was the one that found Kabuto, though. And that's precisely when he got caught.

So when he knocked on Tsunade's door he wasn't only regularly blind, as he had used Izanami and had lost some pounds. She thought she was just too drunk, but when he refused to disappear for hours, Tsunade admitted he was real and alive. And she had no idea what to do.

"Do you want some tea?" Was all she could come up with.

"Hum, yes, sure. Thank you."

Tsunade doesn't know how to make tea. She chose some leaves she assumed were chamomile or something like this and made them two cups. 

"How do you like your tea?"

"It can be just… I don't know. It's been quite a while since I last drank one." He said with a smile and her heart clenched. Probably, Akatsuki doesn't go for tea regularly.

"What do you eat in Akatsuki?"

"Pardon?"

"Hm, what do you eat? You cook your meals? Or, I don't know…" she laughed "I have no idea why I am asking. You never seem too skinny, any of you, so you probably have a healthy diet."

Itachi was frowning in his seat in the middle of her living room, his calm demeanor never leaving the guy, even when he was close to dying.

"Ah, well, we actually just ate at restaurants or the food we found at the places we've been through. I don't know if any of us cooked, but if we did, no one offered me."

"You know how to cook?" She asked when she gave him the tea, sitting in front of him, running a careful chakra exam of his injuries and the question was the same old, same old: how was he still alive?

"I do, actually. I even like to, but I couldn't practice that much. Sometimes, I did when we decided to stay in one house or another. It is weird, not that you asked."

"How so?" Tsunade wanted to keep the small talk during her check up as she always did. Ninja don't like when people invade their bodies. 

"It is not something I paid really attention to on a daily basis. We were always on the move, so there was always one place or another to eat, illegally or not."

He drank a sip of the tea and she knew he used all his years of training to show no emotions to suppress the face at the bad taste. She took a small sip because it couldn't be that — yep, it was that bad. 

"Are you hungry? I probably have some leftovers in the fridge."

"I'd appreciate it." 

He gave her a small smile again and it was disturbing to look into his eyes. He was blind. That much she could tell. His black eyes were now grey and his left eye was even paler, due the Izanami. 

Tsunade fished inside her fridge and she found a sad looking ramen, some miso soup and vodca.

"Do you drink, Itachi?" She yelled, with her head still inside the fridge, staring at it and thinking how a med nin could be so reckless when it came to her nutrition. 

"Not really, but yes."

After the ramen and miso were heated, she sat down with a glass of vodca and a plate she made for him.

"It's just, uh, miso and ramen." Itachi truly smiled, a small smile but that turned his face really beautiful. "And vodca."

"Vodca?"

Tsunade waved her hand and then remembered he was blind (she had just get used to Shisui), then said 

"It is like sake, but much stronger."

To his own feat, he didn't cough when he drank. 

He ate in silence and she couldn't delay the inevitable anymore. 

"Why are you here, Itachi? I know the truth about you or you'd be dead by now, so what do you want? And why did you look for me, of all people?"

He cleared his throat and placed his empty place perfectly on the table.

"I need medical aid. I am sick. Very, very sick. I thought it was incurable, but, very recently, I found out it isn't, but I think it can kill me very quickly if I do nothing about it. The thing is that it slowed down when I stopped using my sharingan, so I think it is strictly connected to the Uchiha bloodline."

"How long do you know about it?"

"About a year or two."

"Why do you think it has something to do with the Uchihas?"

Some crickets fulfilled the silence for a beat as he sat with his posture more straight and looked, blindly, straight into her eyes.

"Because I know that Madara has it." Itachi Uchiha said with all seriousness in the world, despite the smirk on his face.

Chapter Text

"Today the day was gray, just like the wet asphalt gets after a heavy rain. The orange of the blue sky makes me want to see beyond loneliness, but the red is so strong in my eyes I see nothing but vibrant blue. The emptiness of the land makes me want to forget the past, makes me want to remember the yearning. The pills, they make me better than I really am. The bad memories and fights make me see the labyrinth I am. The anger takes over me, shows me the path I’m following, but I do not want this path no more. I want to go to the pink days and to the dead flowers of a just finished wedding party.  I want to be myself. Just like black in white, purple. I don’t want to be your tone of green anymore. Because I don’t like green. This is me, yellow-blue-orange. Scratches the throat counting to ten to make me stop crying for remembering what it was like. 

Better days shall come. 

 

And they are arriving."

 

33 days after the beginning of the Great Ninja War

"Did the fucker just retreat?" 

(Except for Kakashi and Obito, everyone looked shocked out of their minds. They just exchanged a tired, all knowing glance. The two (and Rin) lost the count of how many times they ended up drunk with the “Take a Shot Everytime Sensei Says Fuck or Whatsoever”. Kushina, contrary to popular belief, always lost this game, as she was a lightweight.)

Everyone looked around because Minato didn't swear. It was something like Sasuke being nice at his own free will or Tobirama liking Uchihas: downright impossible and weird as fuck. 

Sakura, though, was the first to shake it off and speak. 

"Yes."

Nicely said, Sakura. 

They all stood there, staring at the spot Madara was for minutes, each with so many thoughts in their heads they didn't notice Tsunade was awake until she grumbled "piece of a fucking horse shit of a cock" and Naruto ran towards her, all grumbles of Granny, you're alive and you're not dead and bits and pieces muffled by his face in her neck that had her rolling her eyes.

"Alive and not dead are kind of the same thing, knucklehead." Her voice was hoarse, but she was smiling, not all the bees in the world could produce the honey dripping in her eyes and forming the tears her armour couldn't contain. 

"I know." Naruto said, rather proudly, but barely finished the word as Sakura tossed him aside with so much violence Kakashi put his feet to stop him.

"I'm not a fucking ball!" He grumbled, massaging his side, trying to knit his eyebrows together, but his smile was brighter than any sun in any sky in the Galaxy. "You could've picked me, instead of kicked me."

"Where would be the fun in that?" Kakashi was smiling. His eyes were just tiny cracks. 

You only value something when you lose it, I didn't have to read it somewhere to know how truthful it is. 

They didn't realise how much they loved Tsunade until that very moment. 

Sakura was hugging her like a vice, her whole body glowing green, her skin adorned with the black and purple traces from her forehead to her arms and her legs, showing a bit on her back, where her shirt was torn. 

She did and undid the seal periodically in the past month. Sakura was signing her death sentence, but no one could stop her. She wouldn't let 'em. She saved their lives so many times. She took so much damage to her heart, her limbs, her face and stoop — Madara hated her. Every time she took a killing blow, Sakura raised to her feet and spat blood, cleaning her mouth with her dirty hands, making her look fierce, like an animal that has been kept captive for too long and now all he had was a killing intent. 

The Mitotic Regeneration: The Hundred Healings Technique, the fucking Creation Rebirth, has a continuous, automatic effect that will heal any damage that the user sustains instantly without the need to make hand seals or even a conscious effort to activate the healing process as long as they have chakra left. The enhanced regeneration granted by this technique is so rapid that even the wounds are completely healed in mere moments. You seem immortal. Though, even the simple Mitotic Regeneration, by releasing a large amount of chakra at once, the body's cell division is forcibly stimulated. Whenever the body's tissues are damaged or an organ is destroyed, the injury will instantly heal regardless of the severity. So long as Creation Rebirth remains active, the user cannot die, as well. Although, immortality doesn't exist because it is a curse. The jutsu does not repair the old cells, instead hastening the creation of new ones through division. Because a body's cells can only split a certain number of times, the user shortens their natural lifespan whenever this technique is used. In other words, this shit takes out years of your life. 

The Byakugou, no matter how powerful and how much chakra it has restored, will run off. Sakura has a scary amount of chakra that no one saw coming, but she would die sooner than later. Was it by chakra depletion or losing so many years of her life, she wouldn't be able to keep up. 

Even if she didn't use it all the time, it was a whole month saving everyone's life. Trying to, because the Hokages would, as much as they could, shove her out of the way. They were immortal, but there was too much ground to cover and Madara was as immortal as they and much more powerful. 

It became a matter of when instead of if to all of them.

Until now.

Until Madara disappeared.

And they had no idea what to do with it. 

"And the fucking Uchiha boy went along?" This time it was Tobirama who said it, so things went back to normal — as normal as they could be. 

"What is going on?" Tsunade was now on her feet, her clothes as torn as they were when she was thrown against the rock and taken as dead, among all of them 

(Until Sasuke and his Susanoo'o landing and shielding them all. Until Naruto pointed so many fingers and not knowing anything anymore, not knowing who was to blame, whose responsibility it was when his parents' death was watched in a cabin. Until it all unraveled in a matter of minutes or hours and so much emotion was poured in those hours-minutes after months of holding back and fighting to the literal death. They dealt with so much, even the veterans, dancing just like a madman had asked them to, surviving on daily rations portions that should be eaten for a day making it last for three or four — they were all at their limits. Especially Naruto, who always thought the War would be something fancy to march on and save the day. Not seeing your comrades share their blood and die at your feet while you can do nothing because you might be next. )

her injuries now just faint scars. Tsunade didn't look like the remains of the Senju clan, because just lingering of glory didn't suit her. Hashirama was a God and Tobirama was an undeniable force of Nature and thunderstorms, but Tsunade was more than a Princess, more than just her name, her past, her descende. 

She looked like a Queen, like a heroine, even if that didn't truly contemplate her.

heroine

[ her-oh-in ]

noun brave woman

actress celebrity female 

idol leading lady

legend martyr protagonist

She was Tsunade first, the Fifth Hokage first, one of The Legendary Sannin, the Slug Princess and, then, she was the granddaughter of Hashirama. Just then she was Tsunade Senju. 

And there, in the crumbs, standing, looking half dead still, having fought with Sakura, both of them with the Creation Rebirth off, just their Byakogou in their foreheads, she could be the King of the World and Naruto would let her. All fucked up as she was, when she spoke, she was the Fifth Hokage and the others were her priors. The drunk gambler was the authority and it suited her.

"You've been out for a couple of hours, Tsune." Hashirama spoke, now having the time to look at her, trying to link the blonde babe in his arms with the woman in front of him. "We thought it was the end, but then Sasuke —"

"Sasuke?" She all, but hissed the word.

Sasuke had a fucking fan club.

"Yes, shishou, Sasuke. He showed up and covered us with his Susanoo'o. There was an…" Sakura looked around herself. 

Naruto still had bloodshot eyes and his voice was hoarse from screaming, his mind still trying to fight in order not to crumble; Minato looked defeated and weary, with a shade of fire in his eyes, making they look a deep ocean blue, full of emotions inscrutable; Hashirama had the expression of a man who seen too many wars in his lifetime and now in his death — and his best friend was in all of them; Tobirama was radiating anger still, but when looking at his eyes, he felt sympathy for Naruto and now hating Sasuke wasn't just as any other Uchiha. It was a personal matter; the Third Hokage looked small, like he wanted to swallow himself, the cover of regrets of decades pulling him down and Sakura couldn't find in herself to feel sorry for him; Obito was the one that was worse. He wasn't looking at any of them. He was staring around, as still as a rock, his eyes dead. She didn't need to be a mind reader to know that every drop of blood in his body wanted to bleed to take it all back — but he couldn't; Kakashi had a cigarette and she wondered when he actually began to smoke. He looked just as bad as Obito and Sakura wanted to punch him for that. If Obito blamed himself, Kakashi did even more. When she looked at his direction, he looked back at her and his eyes were the same charcoal as ever, but they was still burning in the fire at the camp and you try to put your hands in it — it burns and your skin doesn't melt, because it is not hot enough, but the burn will be there forever. 

"We had a situation while you were off." Sakura finished. 

Tsunade was about to pressure in the matter, but Sakura felt limp to the ground, trying to hold onto something, taking five steps in a direction she wasn't seeing, trying to grab Naruto, almost grabbing Minato and in the end tearing Kakashi's flack jacket when she fell to the floor.

"What is wrong with her?" Kakashi hasn't put this much emotion in his words for too long to keep up the facade he was unbreakable. 

"She has a fever."

"A fever?"

"Yes, a fever."

"Just a —" Naruto began, but was cut short.

"Kakashi, snap out of it." He lifted his eye to her face and Tsunade was so deadly serious he felt a limp form in his throat. 

He took off his jacket and placed it under Sakura's head. 

Tsunade kept giving him orders to find this and that, because there wasn't much he could do and as a fly in the back of his mind someone was explaining to Naruto what was happening. 

Naruto couldn't bear to lose Sakura. Neither could Kakashi.

"Despite how useful it is in battle, it is a double-edged sword: the body's cells can only divide and be created a set amount of times, so whenever they use the technique, it shortens their lifespan. Because of this, they only use it in very desperate situations."

"You're fucking kidding with me." Naruto said in a voice that showed more awe than when he learnt he could walk on water. 

"No, I am not." Tobirama answered with such hardness it could crack a rock. 

"We fucking let her kill herself slowly for the entire month?"

"We didn't let her, Naruto." Kakashi's voice came from Sakura's side. He was deadly serious and he was casting a shadow to half of his face. "We don't let her do shit. She chose this."

"She chose? She fucking chose? This is pathet—"

"Pathetic much? Aren't you the one that never listens to anyone and does as you please?" Tsunade spat in his direction, not even looking at him.

"It is different."

"No, it is not." Minato's voice carried much more sharpness than any would have thought. 

(Funny they all needed to be locked in a war to realise how strong all the leaders were. Until then, they were legends, and those alive were acquaintances. But there, in fire and gore, taking their lives to save yours, the blood dripping into their eyelashes, obscuring their vision, you finally see them for who they are. They're not what you've taken them for. None of them. Nothing is. They're not stick dango fingers, lazy smiles, pats on the back, bottles of sake, bad jokes and rainy summer days. They are assassins, leaders, weapons, murder machines, inhuman. When you're side to side fighting for your life, is when you truly know someone.

[Sometimes, you're gonna wish you didn’t. But War listens to no one.)

"It's not different just because she is a woman. She has the same rights as you and I do, Naruto. Kushina was a kunoichi and so is Sakura. They are not fragile. They are soldiers and they know what they are doing."

The mention of Kushina silenced them all. 

The past month came in like a train that hit them all in the gut as soon as they went quiet.

Everyone began to fall. One by one. No matter what they did, they couldn't stop Madara and his madness. 

When Obito stepped to their side, they thought they finally had a chance. When Sasuke stepped to their side, they thought they finally had a chance. 

But what the fuck was wrong with Madara?

He didn't fucking die. He got weak and then, it was like nothing happened. So they kept trying. Kept striking. 

Once, twice, thrice, until they lost count. 

They managed to slow the rising of the moon for three days. For these three days, they had the hope they could stop him. 

They didn't.

When the jutsu was finally completed, it was their downfall. 

On the first day, half of the army fell — disregarding those who fell while the tree was growing. 

They had to set strategies. They had to find shelters, had to find a way to shield themselves from the moonlight. It was unbelievably hard, but not impossible. 

Not even Madara could be out at night, unless on a few occasions he managed to go out — they were still trying to figure out how . How some days he could and lots of them, he couldn't.

So, at night, they hid. During the day, they fought. 

They fought with all they had. All the strength, all the blood, the belief, the loyalty, the bravery, the pure survival instinct. They fought. 

It was a beautiful battle. If still is. 

No one knew how long it would last, but way too soon, luggage was empty. A soldier's luggage is based on weapons, defense equipment and battlefield survival. But the condiments were running low and then, one day, they were over. 

Dehydrated fruits, milk, corn bread, coffee, sugar, salt and their ration bars; medicine bags (extreme urgency medications, including powerful injectable anesthetics — most other first aid supplies go with the paramedic); clothes, socks; his camelbaks were empty (carried on the back, stores almost 5 liters and has a plastic tube to the soldier's mouth, which now carries only a flask on his waist); completely torn ponchos (waterproof camouflage fabric, used in the rain, as a light sweater or shelter for sleeping at night, with its side openings that allow sudden and quick movements and can handle weapons with ease). 

They looked more like hobos than shinobis. But they couldn't flee or retreat. The Leaf was closer, so they tried to move in that direction without showing, just taking the defensive in the Leaf’s direction.. They barely made 1 km. The summons had to do all the dirty work and the chakra was more and more drained. 

Every summonable animal was doing its job, bringing them supplies. But how many animals can you summon to be enough for a whole army? If Madara noticed anyone “escaping”, his eyes always found a way to pulverize this person, so it wasn’t a choice.

Everyday they were faced with new questions: are we to die in the hands of Madara, to be caught in the genjutsu, chakra depletion or hunger? 

No one knew anymore, but salvation seemed more and more distant every passing day.

And then came the Surrenders, as they began to be called. 

In the quiet of the night, some would just leave their caves and embrace the Tsukuyomi, as it was the right thing to do — wasn’t it?

When the moon bleeds red and all your hope is lost, giving in must be the right thing to do and fighting restlessly is just a waste of your time. 

More than once, Naruto quietly cried about that. 

People were giving up. They were giving their lives up and embracing the fate of feeding a gigantic tree, because they had little faith in their leader — they had no more faith in Naruto. 

It could be almost egocentric to think this way, but in the end, it was not. 

Naruto, who everyday covered them with his cloak, to protect them better. Naruto, who everyday exhausted himself to the point of almost dying, for giving too much, giving all he had to fight Madara. Naruto, who put himself in the line of fire again and again and again for those people. Naruto, who was going to go down fighting for them.  

Yet, they all fell. 

"They're all gone." Naruto said, barely above a whisper. God fucking knows where Madara was at that precisely moment, as he took the view in front of him. 

It was a desert. 

Kakashi and Minato were there with him, both putting a hand on Naruto's shoulder. They didn't say anything for a long time.

There was the ground uneven, cracked, rocks were there should be any, dead vegetation where it should be alive, the earth dry, chapped, the remains of what once were trees now ghosts with only branches. The whole soil was dry, like Naruto's mouth. It looked like they were back in the Sand, but they weren't there. They were staring at the aftermath. 

There were bodies everywhere. Vultures, even. Fresh ones, the pale ghost of life just leaving their flesh, others with the vigor mortis so strong their skin would crack like bones and other putrefied. The blood was staining the terrain, like a twisted up painting with a warm pallet. 

"They are all dead."

It wasn't a plea, a mourning, a vengeance call. It was just a statement. A fact. 

"They are."

"How long will it take for us to join them?"

Neither Kakashi nor Minato wanted to answer that. Kakashi didn't want to die and Minato didn't want his son dead. The silence stretched so much as the horizon.

It was Kakashi who broke it. 

"We've made it this far. There's no use for us to guess how long we still have. Let's keep making it as far as we can."

"What if only one of us is left?"

There was the question none of them wanted to address: what if they all died, leaving only one survivor? How long would it take for them to give up?

When Naruto turned around to look at them, there wasn't Naruto they were looking at. There was no glee, no smile, no sparking eyes. There was a man. Not a boy anymore. 

He was a blond, young man, his face features were still to be permanently defined, but he still had some round cheekbones, but it would vanish within months. He had a pointy chin and a slim nose. His face wasn't one to hold arrogance, as the Uchihas had it in their blood. He looked mature, but not quite there yet. His eyes were blue, the type of blue you catch yourself drawn to and immersed on it until you drown. His face was once serene, but now all you could see was sheer determination. He had kindness in him, but his jaw was set strong. His shoulders were broad and his hair framed his face in what once was an angelic way, but now, with all the dust in it, the whiskers still in sight, he wasn't a boy. He wasn't Naruto.

That man was a stranger with such familiar features.

Looking at him and Minato was something that made him laugh. 

Kakashi didn't know how to laugh anymore, so he would never tell the pack that it sounded like a bark. 

"Are you okay, Kaka-sensei?" 

And like that, just like that, with concern in his voice, reaching for Kakashi's arm, his brows knit together, there was Naruto and, notwithstanding hearing an explosion, Kakashi's eyes wrinkled sincerely. Minato had a huge smile of his own and Naruto seemed lost looking at both of them. 

His sensei barking laughs and his father smiling after such a concerning problem. It was good to see him again. 

"What? What did I miss?"

"Nothing, my son." Minato ruffled his hair. "You didn't miss anything."

"It does look like rocks covered in dust — Tsunade, what in hell are you —"

"Grandpa," Tsunade said harshly to Hashirama, like she was scowling her son. Who would ever think of seeing the most respected shinobi in the world being scolded by someone at least 50 years younger than him. "Don't worry. I know what I am doing."

Tsunade had both her hands in Sakura's chest, her fever now low, her lips and cheeks colored again and even though he didn't let it show, Kakashi was breathing more evenly, following Sakura's lungs. Naruto had it easier now, seeing her looking more alive, like she was just taking a nap, and not having exhausted herself to almost to death. 

"You just died!" The man urged, one of his arms still clunking at his side where he still had his armour, the other just skin against skin, as his sleeve was torn. 

"I didn't die, grandpa. I was just out — moreover, how long was I out?"

"Hard to say, Tsuna." Sarutobi answered, flashing a shy smile in her direction. "Time inside the Tsukuyomi doesn't work the same. This night seemed to go faster than usual."

"Indeed." Tobirama was leaning against a rock, his arms crossed in front of him, his gaze distant, as he was only part of the conversation, but not the whole of it. "It didn't last the full hours of the night, only half of it at best."

"Naruto?" A rough voice called, coughing a bit, the sound of hands and knees trying to get up on the sand and dirt that covered the rocks.

"Gaara!" Naruto ran towards his friends with his arms open and embraced the man in such a thigh hug they almost fell to the floor. "You're alive! Oh my — I thought I wouldn't — ever…"

"Calm down, my friend." Gaara smiled kindly, putting his hand on Naruto's shoulder. "I am back here." 

"Are you okay, though?" Kakashi asked with a brow raised. 

"Why— what do you mean?" Gaara furrowed his invisible eyebrows, looking concerned and a little put off. 

"You look weird."

"He's always weird, Kaka-sensei." Naruto laughed, throwing his arm around his friend's shoulder. Gaara met Kakashi's eyes. 

"Kazekage!" Tsunade greeted from where she was on the floor. "Good to see you back, boy!" She could only flash him a smile, still hovering over Sakura.

The other Hokages greeted him as well, until they reached Obito. Gaara's sand and chakra changed immediately. Obito didn't seem surprised. 

"Hey, Gaara, relax." Naruto intervened. "He's at our side, remember? Look, he's not flying and green and weird anymore." He said with a smile, but he seemed years older saying all of that, as if every feature he described of Obito reminded him of all they've been through the past month. All they've seen, been and lost. 

"He's got a black eye." Gaara said, nonetheless. 

"Naruto gave me one." Obito smirked, leaning on a rock. "I think it matches the whole "I am an asshole"  thing." He said with humour and lightness in his tone, but his eyes were hard when Gaara said: 

"It sure does."

Kakashi leaned by Obito's side and lit a cigarette. 

"Do you smoke, Gaara?"

The boy stared at the cigarette for such a long time Kakashi considered asking again. 

"No."

And that was that.

Kakashi shrugged and lit his one. How the man had so many cigarettes for that whole month was a mystery and when he began, was a bigger one. 

(Even though, Naruto could recall missions where Kakashi-sensei would smoke and others where he would make fun of Asuma-sensei for smoking. Now, he just smoked like fuck. Like the world was ending.) 

"My dad smoked." Gaara offered. Kakashi just nodded, Obito tried to find something in himself to be polite and amicable and Naruto smiled widely saying something Kakashi turned off. 

Gaara was acting weird. 

"The boy's off, isn't he?" Obito poked him with his elbow.

"Mind to share why?" He only looked at his friend by the side of his eye, keeping his slouch posture. When Obito didn't answer and he turned to look up, as he always did when he wanted to think, it hit him like a rock. "The genjutsu." He said with finality. Obito nodded and stared at Kakashi's cigarette.  

The genjutsu. 

Gaara was a tough one to catch, he was only caught a week or so before. Now, how long was his life inside the genjutsu? Did it matter? Did he get to live an entire life there or just a while?

"Don't know the answers to any of your questions." Obito said as he pushed himself off the rock and walked in the direction of Hiruzen.

Soon, more people were to wake up and Kakashi had a hitch. It would be one of the most powerful ones he ever had before. 

"Yo, Gaara." The redhead turned to look at him. "Come sit with me." 

The boy sighed, but complied. 

"Hello, General." He said in that weird, shy, kind, polite, respectful way of his.

"Maa, no use calling me that anymore." Kakashi clicked his tongue.

"If what Naruto told me is true, you will be called General for far longer." 

"Well…" He just lit a cigarette to both of them. "He is right."

"I don't smoke." Gaara said in a voice that sounded as confused as Sai's used to be.

"Give it a try, stare at it, make a sand cigarette, I don't know." He said between puffs of smoke, sighs and taking his hitai-ate off to rub his left eye. 

"Your eye." Gaara stated.

"My eye." Kakashi agreed.

"You lost it."

"Technically, I didn't." He smirked. "I lost the sharingan. What did you dream about?" 

Kakashi decided it was better to ask it out of the blue, without beating around the bush too much. Gaara dreamed about something, about a reality he hadn't quite shaken off of him yet.

The silence extended like the horizon they were staring at. This time, it was the direction of the goddamn tree. It was huge and loathsome.

“My life.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

That’s what you see inside the Infinite Tsukuyomi, after all. Your life. Your perfect life. But Gaara didn’t seem happy. Was he pissed ‘cause he was back to reality or because of what he saw there?

“What I saw there.” What the fuck? Was Kakashi mumbling? “What I saw there — what I lived there made me realise many things I wasn’t so sure about before. I lived until my late 90’s.  And it wasn’t a… lonely life.”

Kakashi didn’t need to make the boy any more uncomfortable by saying the words. 

All his “my friend” and “fellow jinchuuriki” speeches didn’t fool Kakashi at all. Naruto was Gaara’s first friend. And was Gaara’s first something else as well. Somewhere along the way, Gaara’s feelings grew to a new direction Naruto had no idea of. Probably not even the Kazekage knew about them until that very moment he got caught in the Infinite Tsukuyomi and lived his ideal life. 

He lived a life with Naruto.

“Hin!”

Hinata woke up. The sun was shining way brighter than the night she was waking up her second child, a sweet girl named Himawari. 

Naruto had just come back home for her sixteenth birthday from his Hokage’s duties. Her elder son, Boruto, was already setting the table for them. Himawari had fallen asleep while waiting for her father, after spending the day training new jutsus with her aunt, Hanabi. 

Himawari was already a spectacular jounin and would’ve applied to the ANBU, if they still existed. But as soon as the War finished and Naruto defeated Madara, Kakashi taking place as Hokage, the Black Ops ceased to exist. The peace between the Five Nations lasted so they weren’t needed anymore. 

It was almost boring to be a ninja nowadays. 

But now the sun was shining too bright and there was no Himawari and no Boruto and, as Hinata came to realise slowly, no peace. 

“My children!” Hinata screamed in horror. 

Where were her children? She didn’t give a fuck about the peace, about the Nations, about Hokages and all this bullshit. She wanted her children. She wanted her son and her daughter. She didn’t raise them for almost twenty years to lose them in the blink of an eye. 

“Sakura, where are my children?” She had tears in her eyes and was scanning the area desperately, but they were nowhere to be seen. Actually, everything around her was dead. Dead bodies and dead vegetation. 

Don’t tell her — 

“Are my children dead?”

Hinata was hyperventilating. Her hands opening and closing, her breath uneven, her eyes insane even without the Byakugan anymore, tears streaming down her face. 

“Hin. Hin! Listen to me. You were dreaming. You were caught under the genjutsu. You were caught —”

“No! My child—”

“Hinata! Listen to me!”

“No, no, no! You can’t tell me that. You can’t tell me they weren’t real, Sakura! You just — can’t.”

Well, fuck. If you can’t tell the truth, what do you do? 

Naruto noticed the commotion and started to come to their direction.

“Hinata, what happened?”

“Naruto! Where are our children?” She yelled, still blind by her tears. 

“Our… our what?”

In a speck of a second, she realised her mistake. Hinata blinked a couple of times and looked at Naruto closer. He was over twenty years younger. She looked down at her hands and her hair — it was as long as it’s always been. The truth of the situation drowned her. 

Her children weren’t dead ‘cause they were never real. What was worse, after all?

“Hin?” Sakura asked in a soft voice, her hand hovering in the air, afraid to touch her and scare her. 

Hinata just threw herself over her, mourning the loss of something she never had, when an overwhelming reality hit her even stronger than before.

She looked over at Naruto again. 

Even though she lived her ideal life with him, that was it. She loved her children more than she loved him. They didn’t have sex in years and she was certain he was having an affair with a certain someone. A someone from his past that would never die or leave his life. She didn’t love him anymore in that reality. Her life was perfect because they were the goodest friends and she had Sakura — who was married to Sasuke, but also cheated on him the same way they all knew he cheated on her. 

Sometimes perfection doesn’t come in the straight, right pieces you think it would come. 

Sakura had two lovers, Hinata had one, Naruto and Sasuke had one another. It should be a mess, but it worked. Everyone closed their eyes at night and pretended they couldn’t smell the others in their clothes, couldn’t see hickies they didn’t leave or scratch marks on their backs they didn’t make. 

So it hit her, clear as the day that was blinding her: Hinata didn’t love Naruto anymore.

five years later

February 3034, 5 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

His eyes were shut and his mouth was open. He was laying there exactly the same way he was four hours ago, except now he was much colder and stirred. His face was pale and his hair damp, although, as the temperature was close to zero, it was almost frozen. The blanket they put over him wasn't as white as some dirt, somehow, got kicked into it. Yet, he was perfectly still, not one finger out of the way. His hands weren't crossed in front of his chest, instead just lying beneath his sides, the tip of his fingers with gnawed nails in his fingerless gloves. The scar was darker than it's ever been, a contrast to his face. They didn't remove the mask, as they knew he wouldn't like it if they did it. If he hadn't shown his face before, it wouldn't be up to them to show it now. 

The wooden floor cracked and it echoed as a baby's screams echoes through a church when all its sins are washed away before being commuted, reflecting in the vitrals, with all its blues, greens and reds, descending forgiveness, but there, over the body laid in the middle of the room there was no water to wash the blood away and the only bless was the poor light coming from the small window. 

Kakashi laid there, immobile, immovable, on the floor, ignorant to ever sound, scream or plead. He laid there, with his eyes closed, the fog outside making his hair glow. 

Sakura was sitting on her knees by his side and Naruto was at the door. The snowstorm wasn't supposed to happen. Now, they were surrounded by snow and she was crumbling a paper in her hands, her eyes closed.

"Shit." Sakura whispered to herself. "This can't be happening."

If the room wasn't so small and quiet, Naruto wouldn't've heard her. 

"But it is, Sakura. It already happened, there's nothing we can do now."

"Of course there's something we can do." She bit it back to him in such a way she looked like the Sakura with 12 years old — her voice, her way of saying it, the way she looked at him, the way she looked at Kakashi. The way they all, the three of them looked at him: for help. They joked around, but they never ceased to look up to the man and admire him. "We were lucky you were able to put your hands on it." Her voice was shaking.

"But he escaped."

"Fuck him." She was crumbling the paper and the paper was the reason for all of that, so Naruto stepped closer to take it out of her hand when another hand closed around his wrist. With wide eyes, he looked at Kakashi's stormy ones. 

He remembered the first time he was afraid of him, the very first training of Team 7, the bell test, when he changed the weather and looked like a force of nature ready to kill three stupid children. His eyes held the same intensity now, but Naruto's grin was so wide it could break his face. Kakashi shook his head and gave him a smile of his own.

"Wh's goin' on?" He said slurry and sleepy to Sakura. 

She was a mess. Just out of the night patrol, attended to a hospital emergency and then the fucking paper — the fucking file.

"Kashi," she took his freezing hand in hers and sent chakra immediately to his system, warming his whole body. "Naruto found something," her words were careful and her thumb was running circles over his knuckles "and you are not gonna like it."

His eyes became alert in the moment and he sat and got out the bed so fast the eyes couldn't follow, but Sakura seemed used to it. Naruto didn't notice that the bed had two pillows. 

Kakashi went down to the kitchen to make some tea and found the tea ready waiting for him, two empty cups sitting on the sink. Taking a calming breath, he just turned around and waited for it. 

Naruto was the first to speak.

"Kakashi-sensei, why were you sleeping in a freezing room? You looked dead."

"You see," he began, his eye crinkle, his bad excuse "there's this small seahor —"

"Cut the bullshit." He was cut by Naruto, who now looked feroz. Sakura was leaning on the wall, empathy in her eyes more than anything. Naruto threw the file in his direction. "Could it be because of this? Because of how much you've been drinking, sensei? So much you and" he looked angrily at her, more than ever "Sakura decided it could be a way to help to have your cells kept in the cold, like a constant cold shower to help you sober up, but with chakra healing giving a hand, uh? And where do your pills enter, Sakura? Mind to shar—"

He didn't have the chance to finish the sentence, as Kakashi sent him flying through the wall of the kitchen to the living room. 

Now that it was out in the open, Kakashi didn't have to hold his bad fucking alcoholic mood in — and Naruto draw the last straw. There's always some lines you shouldn't cross.

"Don't your fucking dare to talk to her like that, you little shit! Nor to me, Naruto." 

Kakashi aligned his spine and took a sip of his tea, returning to his usual slouch, but his eyes held the promise of a wolfhound just waiting for the leash to slip, the eyes of a hurricane swallowing all the life going to the sky nearby, floating to the air and round and round and round again until you break your neck from twisting your head for looking into it for too long. 

When he spoke again, it sounded as it always had, albeit with his hair falling to his face, obscuring it, making just the right places darker than a forest in a storm.

"You have not the faintest idea of what we've been through this past few years, you have no idea of how much we sacrificed —"

"And you think I didn't?" Naruto snapped from the floor, his hand touching his lips.

"Oh, did you? Leaving the Village with Jiraya? Making a mess out of the whole shinobi world, crashing in a Kage summit to ask them to forgive Sasuke for being a traitor and a murderer? Running away and making us go after you, putting you and everything and everyone in danger because you are a spoiled little brat? Neglected everyone just to go after Sasuke, doing everything just for Sasuke, giving no shit that the world was marching into War because your element was Wind and it fed Sasuke's element?"

Sakura gasped at the corner. 

"You have to be fucking kidding me."

For once in his life, Naruto was quiet. 

"You put all of us in danger, Naruto. All of us. And we followed you. We risked everything because of you and now you think you can throw things at me and Sakura's face? Because that's how we cope?" Kakashi's fist met the kitchen counter and it splintered in two. Sakura's knuckles were white. Naruto was slowly getting up of the floor. 

The air was so dense, so thick, the killing intent between a family that it would spread by miles and no one would dare to touch it. No one would dare to disturb such a dark, obscure, intimate and intense moment. That wasn't just about the three of them. It was about the four of them. It was about Team 7. Sasuke could run away as far as he wanted, but he would hunt them forever. 

"Cope? You call this coping? Doing… doing — this?"

"You shut the fuck up, Naruto. You shut your goddamn mouth up!" Sakura yelled. Sakura always loses her temper, Sakura does not ever look at him with ferocity. Not like that "Not in your wildest dreams you will begin to fathom what it is like." The tear that fell from her eye burned all the way to her chin and never met the ground.

Sakura didn't cry anymore.

Not because she was a ninja and ninja don't cry, but because tears make your vision go blurry and she has to see everything in front of her, so she destroys it in order to protect and rebuild.

Sakura doesn't cry anymore, because that's a luxury she can't afford herself. She can't and won't cry, because it burns and the third degree burn scar she had on her hip when she saved Naruto from a building three years ago is a reminder that burning alive is the worst way to die — until now.

"What about me?" Naruto is always so loud. He wants the world to listen to him and it does. He wanted Sakura to notice him and she did; he wanted Kakashi's approval and he got it; he wanted Sasuke's respect and had it; he wanted to be acknowledged by the shinobi world and he was. What else does he want when he screams in your face? They can hear him already. 

Kakashi opened the file.

Name: Kakashi Hatake 

Also known as: Copy nin; Friend Killer Kakashi; Kakashi of the Sharingan; Cold Blooded Kakashi; The Man who Copied Over a Thousand Jutsu; Son of the White Fang; Leader of Team 7; General; Sixth Hokage 

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 15 of September 

Age: 26 - 40

Blood Type: O

Features: White hair, grey eyes, scar over his left eye, elongated canines, beauty mark under his lip, sharp cheekbones, slim chin. 

Height: 5'9" | 181 cm

Weight: 148 lbs | 67,5 kg

Kekkei Genkai: Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan 

Clan: Hatake Clan

Affiliation: Konohagakure

Status: Alive

Rank: S++

Uses mostly: Ninjutsus, Fuuinjutsu, Kinjutsu e Kuchyose.

Reward: $900.000 (and a Bonus)

Weakness: Alcohol, pride, guilt, forceful coldness and detachment, albeit caring way too much and very much about his friends.

Past to use against: Rin Nohara, Obito Uchiha, Sakumo Hatake, Kushina Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha

Present to use against: Sakura Haruno, Naruto Uzumaki, Tenzo, Tsunade Senju, Minato Namikaze, Itachi Uchiha

Sleep Schedule: Sleeps through most part of the day, more active during the night. not easier to catch in the day, tough — except in long term missions that surpass two weeks travel.

Unable to Forgive/Holding Onto Something in the Past: oh yea boy, can't forgive himself nor the Third for Naruto's childhood and Itachi, Danzo, Sasuke, Rin's death still weights on him easier to provoke with women death when using chidori/raikiri, moved past Obito well enough after his death, but the Fourth War still shakes him. 

House: Neat and organised, well conserved, bigger than one would imagine, his decoration simple, furniture kind of matching, not all are worn out things, huge spot for the dogs, a big bathroom with a bathtub and a shower, nice enough bedroom, books everywhere, scrolls, nothing emotional but the three pictures. sometimes he was so fucking incredibly pissed he ruined much of his furniture, that's why he had some new and nice, but still didn't care all that much about the living room but for the sake of reading or be with the dogs, never has visitors, doesn't even have guest room or spare clothes.

Hobbies: Reading, staring at dead people's grave and talking to them, smoking, drinking, training, eating at hidden rooftops, walking the dogs at civilian random villages, fucking around eventually, killing people — He's used to kill like it was a hobby, even Icha Icha losing to it.

Break completely: keep on losing people, but mostly failing hard on saving them or causing their death. His ninken's death on the field, Itachi 

Want from partner/how feel about sex: don't really care about a partner and not just because is self depreciating, but just cause this life makes having a partner dangerous and even painful, but probably wants someone quiet and not naive, intelligent and even skilled. Sex is just sex, but is the type 8 or 80 when giving/having pleasure, sometimes really selfishly, sometimes really generous. Good fuck

What do when can't sleep: Read, get drunk, train, when in missions engaging fights, study scrolls and summoning, self harm 

Insignificant Memories: the colour his house walls, his first tea made by himself, the first time he as an adult successfully cooked, the hair colour the first children he saved and the same for the first he killed, Kushina's lasagna, his three year old birthday where all he could recall was the fair's taste.

Reluctant on telling people: Every and any thing about himself, his past, his feelings. The particular episodes he drunk killed innocents; picked up bars fights; failed suicide attempts at 11, at 17, at 24 and at 31: the time he woke up naked near the Kazekage's tower, handcuffed; the time his ninken, Pakkun, walked in while he was having sex ; when he killed the man that raped Rin with his bare hands; all the murders committed without chakra; vast experience with torture; Sakura;

How many friends he wants vs how many he has: Hatake has more friends than he wants, 10 when he wanted to have none — that's what he said to himself. But he wanted all the friends he had and maybe more. He did, but somehow in the middle of it all, he convinced himself he didn't want any of them. Until Asuma died. And then his superiors, Shikaku and Inoichi, and what he had as friends, just after they died, Gai was in a wheelchair and then Kurenai died. The ninkens would fill the hole, but not even them deserved it. He just wished he said that earlier. Not even Jiraya fully knew. But he deserves to die alone.

Kakashi was holding the file with his gaze low, unreadable. The air was thick and Naruto seemed to remember what was written there. How they wrote his sensei should die alone, how he was still haunted by ghosts of 20 years ago, how he tried to kill himself four times, his loneliness, how further he went on pushing people away. This stranger knew so much about him, it was scary. But having it shoved into your face was scarier. Naruto wished he hadn't read any of that and remained ignorant to Kakashi's life and suffering. 

But he wasn't. 

Not anymore.

Maybe that's why he was so angry. 

(Why didn't they trust him? Why didn't Sakura trust him with her dependence? Why didn't Kakashi-sensei ever open up to him all those times they drunk around fires and night scoops? He was the son of his sensei. They should have some kind of — of bond. He sure as fuck felt they had. He trusted them. Both of them. And they didn't trust him back. He had every right to be angry. To be fucking furious. They were the most important people in his life and they left him the fuck out.)

"This is —" he began, and his voice was light, just as when he asked for another bottle in the bar after they finished a long mission. 

"Too personal." Sakura finished for him. Naruto didn't know what to say. 

When Kakashi lifted his eyes, he could be as good as dead. All the emotions he managed to break through over all those years were gone. There wasn't even a sparkle. He was back to their very first day, the soft white dust in his hair, the complete detachment in his face. That file killed him. 

"Way too personal." he packed the file in his right pocket. "This didn't take just months to build, it takes proximity. And, I assure you," Naruto shivered. He could've been talking to an enemy with that tone. "I didn't rent that kind of info to no one."

Sakura held her chin higher and for a second their eyes met with such intensity the room grew warmer. In the next second, it was gone. Like it never happened, it was gone. 

That's when Naruto realised.

That's why Sakura was in the file so many times. Before he could open his mouth to say it, a thought crossed his mind and he had to balance on his feet. 

"Kakashi-sensei, let me look at it again." 

Kakashi didn't even look at him, packing his things with such a speed one could take his actions for determination in a competition. 

"I mean it. I think I just —"

"Naruto." His voice was colder than the air outside, his eyes were hidden beneath the curtain of his hair and his posture was tense, like he was ready to lunch on Naruto again if he spoke shit. "You have noth—"

"Mah, fuck it!" Naruto threw his hands in the air, not in an aggressive way, but in a manner that said he quit, he didn't want to fight, he wanted to help. "Let me look at it again. I think I noticed something."

He looked at Sakura for a support that never came, her body forcefully relaxed leaning on the door, but the scroll was in his hands a moment later, after she and Kakashi shared a glance again. 

"Look,"He said, his finger pointing to a name in the paper. "look at it."

For a second, Naruto let 'em look at it, knowing they would figure it out, but for once, he wanted to break it before them.

"Itachi Uchiha's name isn't in the past, but in the present. And I know people like to take me for dense as fuck, but I kind interpreted that the people to use against Kakashi" no sensei "are the living people." Naruto's blue eyes were full of all the feelings that couldn't be put into words. 

"Kakashi," Sakura turned to him in a blur. "Shisui!" she said, as it made up the whole deal, but the man was lost in his own world, making his own calculus, connecting all his dots. "How Shisui was so shocked —" Sakura was cut short by Kakashi, who was still not looking at any of them, his hand in his chin, his eyes low, the grey hair obscuring his face. Kakashi looked like a rainstorm.

"Shocked that Itachi appeared to me. And he was so eager about that unlike he was about anything else." 

Outside the window, a bird chirped and took flight, his wings so loud it was deafening. "He was shocked that Itachi appeared to me in the…"

Sakura closed one of her hands in a fist and took a deep breath. He never told her about that. About what happened. She knew as much as Shisui, if not less, as there were parts of their conversation that were simply blank.

"But he had to be dead for that to happen…" Kakashi concluded, talking back to himself, leaning his back against the wall, but his head was still low. He kept mumbling to himself, as he always did when he was trying to break something too complicated they ran into. 

Naruto and Sakura gave their backs to him, Sakura fumbling a bit. 

"Itachi is alive, Sakura." Naruto said with confidence.

"But how? Not only did he fight Sasuke, but he was sick."

"You are still studying Uchiha's disease, aren't you?" 

Sakura sighed and ran her hand through her hair — a habit she got from Kakashi. Looking from that angle, Naruto couldn't believe how blind he'd been.

"I am, I am, but it's hard. I don't even know if it is a disease. And they're all dead!" She threw her hands to the air and ran it through her hair again, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Or they were. They should be. We thought they were."

"Yea, in the shinobi world, people just keep coming back to life, don't they?"

Sakura didn't miss the beat of bitterness in Naruto's speech. Everyone comes back, but his mother wouldn't. Ever. It was like history didn't care about her. His father came back as a war tool — and by the hands of Sasuke, of all people. 

Sasuke. Sasuke, that should've killed Itachi. Sasuke, that was dead. Sasuke, that was a Uchiha and Uchihas never die — but Uzumaki and Hatakes do, because Kakashi's father wouldn't come back either. 

As if listening, Kakashi loudly and abruptly spoke.

"He is alive. Itachi is really alive. I had to seal Tsunade's tongue for her to never be able to discuss the rapport about the Pain invasion, because I didn't meet just my father, but Itachi as well." It was the first time he was talking about it. Sakura popped a pill and massaged her temple, but her eyes never left him altogether and she had more concern than any negative emotion. "So, I assumed he had to be dead. But he knew Shisui was still alive. And who the fuck sealed him in the first part of the war? I know a lot of people sealed a lot of people —”

"And we didn't keep an agenda of who sealed whom, but now, looking back at it, I don't know who was responsible for Itachi." Sakura finished for him. They had that look in their eyes again. 

(Like they were about to drown an entire civilization — and, in the middle of this mess, the truth is, they would do it for one another. The files just proved that. They just didn't put it in words. But maybe the scrubs of the civilization could spell for them.)

"If he is alive, why haven't he shown? Is he a piece of ass shit like his brother?" 

Naruto said, bitter all over, pouring salt all over wounds. 

Sakura felt it before she saw it.

The kunai now embedded in the tile wall behind Naruto's head left a cut — not a scratch — in his cheek. When Naruto looked back at Kakashi, who still had his hand up, he was surprised to see his eyes were not red with black tomoes swirling. 

"Why the fuck was that for?" Naruto hit the wall behind him with his closed fist making it crack — the crack was just a little bigger than the one the kunai created.

"Don't say shit about things you don't know." Kakashi's tone was light and detached, his eyes wrinkling.

"What the f—"

"Naruto's question is valid." Sakura interrupted, looking from one man to another, ready to jump in and send them flying out of the place. "Why hasn't he shown —" she stopped mid sentence, her mouth opened in a tiny 'o'.

"Sakura," Kakashi took one step ahead, concern in his voice "what's wrong?"

"Sasuke." She simply said.

"Sasuke." He repeated slowly, with an eyebrow raised, a question in his tone.

They fell silent. 

Kakashi, his hand touching Sakura's forearm; Sakura, her mouth still open, looking at his chest with her gaze unfocused. 

And Naruto.

Confused as fuck.

"Ok, the hell does this mean?" He asked in that tone that would never let them forget he was Naruto — he still had innocence in his voice, he was still cheerful somehow, even when he didn't mean it. And, every time he was confused, Naruto enveloped them in the comfort of his existence imploding in the hope of better days, with his difficulty to understand literally anything. There was a certain comfort in that. It was easier to pretend things were easier and people were still alive and the world wasn't burning underneath their feet.

"Sasuke, Naruto!" Sakura said, happily, gesturing with her hands. 

"Cool, you said both our names, but didn't say anything. What about Sasuke? Is he alive too?" His last sentence leaked much more hope than he'd like to admit and to feel. 

As the years passed by, it was getting tiring to save Sasuke, especially when he kept trying to kill them. It reached a point Sakura was full of him for all the times he tried to kill Naruto and Naruto was full of it for all the times he tried to kill Sakura. Kakashi was fucking angry for a long, long time.

In the war, Sasuke proved to be a traitor. He didn't ally with Madara because the man kicked him, 'cause sure as hell he would. 

And he left them. 

He left his people, his home, his friends to die. Having the Rinnegan, he left them all, anyway. With this visual prowess he could've saved so many lives, he could've contained so much disaster, so much pain. But he didn't. Sasuke just walked away again and Naruto was beginning to know by heart the details of Sasuke's back. 

(But they all knew about Naruto, even though no one ever spoke about it. He had platonic feelings for Sasuke, had he had the knowledge of it or not. All his life was about him, from the moment his eyes laid on him for the first time to the very last. Sasuke was once just an obstacle, just his rival, but they became best friends and somewhere it all blurred up and they lost the right path, following blindfolded. 

One of the times Sasuke showed up in the War, Naruto ran straight towards him and punched him with so much strength it broke two of his fingers and spawned his wrist. Sasuke just laid there, in the dirt floor, dust rising all around him, a hand to his mouth, feeling the blood pooling, his mismatched eyes staring at the so sunshine lovely boy. Naruto's eyes were red — that day Gaara had taken a wound to his chest that if Sakura wasn't by his side, he would've died in seconds and Shikamaru, Temari, Hinata and Konohamaru fell to the fucking tree that day. 

The very moment Sasuke's feet landed, Naruto could feel his presence and the demon in him, his demon launched. The purple eye looked back at him and Naruto's claws wanted nothing but to rip it off and give 'em to someone that deserved it. 

"How dare you?" His voice was low, raw and strained. "How dare you show up here, as if nothing is happening? As if we're in survival training? You could help, but you ran like a scary cat, you coward !" 

Sasuke snarled and was ready to engage when Sakura popped by his side. "Bee and Yamato are having difficulties. Go to them." 

Before Naruto turned around and left, Sasuke was standing already and they were so close, they could feel each other's breaths in their skins, the hot emanando from one body to the other pipipi. Naruto spat blood on his face and left. 

Sakura didn't understand why, but, as Sasuke cleaned the blood with his sleeve and stared at it, he seemed to know pretty well what it was all about. And then, as Sakura was about to say something, he punched his hand through her heart.)

"Sasuke came time and time again to the field, didn't he, Naruto?" Kakashi said, calmly, as if he was about to step on a mine. 

"Yeah, yeah, I think his consciousness was ringing and he noticed he was turning his back to his home." His tone was cheerful, but not real . It was like a dry sunflower trying to follow the sun hiding behind the clouds, its soil too dry to be blessed by the rain. "I just never understood why he left again." His voice and cheerfulness died. 

Sakura and Kakashi exchanged glances, as they always do nowadays (ever since Sakura found out about that about Kakashi and Kakashi found out about that regarding Sakura), and she sighed before telling him the truth. 

"Sasuke never came to help us, Naruto. He was looking for Itachi."

"He was… how… did he… but… no one knew he was alive."

"No, no. He didn't know he was alive. He knew he was brought back by the Edo Tensei and was looking for him."

"So all that time he was just looking for his brother?” His voice was all sharp around the edges, rough for trying not to scream. “The whole month? The whole time we spent there fighting and dying he was — was selfish enough to wander around?" 

Sakura swallowed, her mouth dry. All the pieces finally fit together. All the pieces, but one.

"Did you know, Kakashi?" She didn't have to ask, because she knew the answer, but she did it anyway. Did you know Sasuke never cared about any of us and was just looking for his brother? And Kakashi didn't have to answer as both of them knew it already. "Fuck."

The three fell silent, lost in thought or too uncomfortable to talk, it didn't matter. There was too much to process.

Itachi was alive.

And they had the feeling it wasn't any news. 

"Fucking Tsunade." Kakashi said between his teeth, so low it wouldn't be audible they hadn't been so quiet.

"Shishou? What does she have to do with this?"

"She knew. All this time, Tsunade knew." 

Outside, a big snowball fell from a tree branch. They were up to their feet immediately. 

Signalling with his hand, Kakashi gave the orders to pack and leave no trail behind. One of Naruto's clones packed the food left in the cabinets, the other one arranged all the scrolls and put it in his backpack while the third rolled the bed rolls. 

Kakashi was checking their weapons and dismantling the ones that would be of no more use. An air jutsu dispersed the dirt on the floor, not leaving their footprints for show. Running to the bathroom, he got all he could to clear their presence, setting ablaze anything useless or unable to carry. 

Sakura was checking any medical kit she could find lost in the house and gathering her stuff, from her medicine to her scalpel. Checked her poison vials, her herbs and her pills, setting it neatly. All the clothing, she and Naruto packed. As they had very few, it took almost no time. 

In less than two minutes it was all packed and ready to go, the place as clean as possible, no evidence they've ever been there. It was enemy territory, almost a week away from the Village so if they engaged in a fight there would be no back up. They shunshied to the top of a canopy tree 20 meters away and waited. 

Five minutes later, seven men walked into the small cabin, kicking down the door. They were looking for them. Kakashi's head was up to a prize the last few months and they were hiding, even though they knew it wouldn't last. This state of War/non-War kept changing allies and the persecution was insanely inconsistent. Whoever was behind the game of power, had no idea which side to choose. 

As the seventh man stepped into the house, it blew up. The explosion hit some trees, in a twelve meter diameter. They set enough explosive tags and traps to take down a castle. No one could know they were there. 

"Kakashi?" Sakura raised a brow and he closed his eyes, concentrating. After a few seconds, he said

"I can't feel any chakra. They're dead."

Both Naruto and Sakura nodded and they took off, heading to the desert where they would meet Tsunade and Gaara. The expression on Kakashi's face was unreadable. 

As none of them went to check if the annihilation was successful, they never saw the Leaf hitai-ate in the scrubs, burning slowly. 

The Kazekage tower was as imponentes as ever — and hot as fuck too. Tsunade whipped her temple clean so many times her arm was already sticky. 

"Gaara," she said slowly, in a tone that could be hunting the young boy. He just looked at her with a bored gaze as if she was a fly. Too much like Kakashi for her taste. Is that the Hokage material nowadays? If it is, Naruto was fucked.  "how do you survive under those white robes?"

"I never wear them."

"How do you survive regular clothing?"

"You get used to it."

She was about to engage in a long stalled conversation about politics when the door all but exploded from its hinges, showing two swirling tomoes staring straight at her soul, pink hair and hard green eyes and so much hurt and betrayal in blue skies. 

Gaara barely beated an eyelash. Tsunade got pissed. 

“What the fuck was th—”

Kakashi beats her words and breathes to a pulp. 

“How long have you been hiding from me that Itachi is alive?”

six years later

October 3040, 10 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

“So, Kakashi really left.”

“Yeah. And he left a little gift for these fuckers.”

Sakura had that maniac gleam in her eyes as she stared at the black smoke rising through the sky. 

Kakashi had set fire to the Gates, making two black crows fly through the sky, swirling around each other in a dance of fire and smoke. The crows were the symbol of The Resistance, the symbol they were still there, up and ready to fight. 

In an area of 6 km all the guards were hit with a genjutsu. Probably some  already broke free, but until they reached the Gates, Kakashi Hatake was long gone. The farthest could be heard running in that direction and Ino choked a laugh. They would never catch him. 

The man made many clones of himself to run in many directions to trick them and, if they ever managed to catch the right one, they wouldn’t last a second against him in a fight. He was the Former Hokage and the General of The War after all. 

Oh yeah, and one of the clones, the one that had the most possibility of being truly chased down and caught was his well known Lightning Clone. Someone was turning into toast today. 

“Does the plan remain the same?” Ino asked soberly.

Sakura only nodded, setting aside her binoculars. 

“You and  Shikamaru have to leave soon, while the mess is still on. Itachi will leave a bit later with his 15 children along Shisui. We’re the only ones left. I’ll be the last one.”

“You know I hate this fucking plan.”

“Besties leave with besties.”

“Then why do you have to be the one to go alone?”

“My bestie is dead.”

Sakura just talked about Naruto’s death like that, like it was the weather, not one of the reasons they were in this mess. Ino wanted to comfort her, but there is no comfort in death. Only the truth. 

“And Hin?”

With an eyebrow raised and folding a shirt, she simply said: 

“She left already.”

“And don’t I know?” Ino rolled her eyes “I mean, why didn’t you leave with her?”

She sighed and turned to her best friend of many years, her emerald eyes as hard as the stone they looked like. 

“Ino, if someone stays back and gets caught, the one that can take better their torture is me.”

The Yamanaka rivalry really wanted to say she could take any amount of torture those voltures could throw at her, but she read the scrolls Itachi brought. She would never break, but the cyanide inside her mouth, behind her teeth, would. 

Sakura’s wouldn’t. 

Probably neither would Itachi’s, Shisui’s, Kakashi’s, but she understood. On the battlefield, they were needed more urgently than her. 

And she would make  it out alive. She wouldn’t get caught. 

"You still blame yourself, don't you?"

"Well I fucking hate this question, but it's better than the bullshit that he still lives in our hearts." Sakura mumbled and snorted. 

"You didn't answer me."

"Of fucking course I blame myself for it, Ino!" She yelled. "If only I have been faster —"

"No one was being able to track them down for months —"

"Not just on that mission." There were tears in her eyes. Tears in Sakura's eyes were so rare nowadays. "In life. If I have been faster and fixed them. Made them sit and talk. Hug. Wear a 'we get along' t-shirt. Therapy. Do drugs and go to a party together. Anything. But no. I didn't."

Ino sighed. They had that conversation dozens of times, when Sakura would get high enough to speak her true mind and her barriers would crumble down. 

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Sakura turned to her, like she'd forgotten she was talking to someone else. 

"You can't fix other people. Their problems come a long way road. Since they were children. You can't change the past."

Sakura bit out a bitter laugh. 

"You know something Shishou told me, after they left the Village? After Sasuke and Naruto left me behind, for the first time?"

For the first time, just for one day it will come for the last time. Just like an omen. 

Ino only shook her head. 

"She told me: You were alone before they left you." 

The words hang heavy on the air. 

"So I realized I was so much more than they told me I was. Then they all told me. You included. We weren't friends again yet at the time. We were rivals over fucking Sasuke. That now —"

“That now is dead too.” Ino finished, just so she didn’t have to. It might seem cruel to say it, but to have Sakura saying it, again —  having to say out loud that her team was now dead was way more cruel. 

“Yes. That. Now he’s not here either. Just like Naruto. So that’s why I’m leaving alone. I can take the torture. I can leave alone. I can do it. I am more than I thought I was. I had to learn that the hard way.”

There was nothing left for Ino to say. She knew it from the beginning. 

Sakura was finishing packing up. It was midnight already, so the turns were about to change. She was going to take that chance to leave. When the guards were changing the watch, she was going to knock some out with a genjutsu. The west side of the Village had the weakest ones — there was still trouble, but she wasn’t Sakura Haruno for nothing. She wasn’t a War legend out of nowhere. 

They had months to study the movements of the guards and their watch. She was ready.

“Well, going anywhere?”

That voice made all the hairs in her body stand and her blood froze still. It couldn’t be possible. How — how did he — how could he find her?

Lifting her head slowly, Sakura almost throwed up the few things she had for  lunch. 

Leaning on her door, his head leaning on his raised arm, was Naruto. 

Chapter Text

"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now.

We will never be here again."

- Homer, The Iliad.

 

October 3040, 10 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"How — how are you —" Sakura choked on the words. The shock was too big for her to process.

It's been years. Years. And now he was leaning at her doorstep like it was yesterday, like he'd just come back from a mission.

She tucked down the mask she was wearing, a very Kakashi style one, that covered her face up to her nose, her hair hidden under a hood. 

Her shock turned into anger. 

"How you fucking dare?" And that was the first punch to his arm, that turned into dozens. "We mourned your death like — like we lost a piece of ourselves and now —  now here you are with this stupid smile of yours like nothing happened?"

Naruto, by his turn, was smiling and almost laughing. 

The man was glad to finally, finally, be back. And he knew Sakura was too, even though she was furious right now. 

“Hey, Sakura, calm down. I’m sorry, okay? But no one could know.”

“No one could know?!” She yelled, then lowered her voice. She still was trying to escape. “No one could know, Uzumaki? You had to keep a secret from us for 6 years that you were alive?”

“Yes. I’ve been working in the meantime.”

“Oh, so you went all Shisui on us.”

He began to give a little smile to her joke, but thought better of it. His arm was already hurting like hell. 

“Look —”

“No, I don’t want one hell of an excuse. Wait. No. I do. Do you know what happened during your absence? Kakashi was deposed because of your death.”

“The coup d’état was going to happen anyway.”

Sakura’s eyes went as big  as saucers. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Remember that file about him we found years ago?”

“Yes, I do. Before we even knew Itachi was alive. The one that had way too much information about him.”

“Precisely. Funny we never found anything like that about us.”

“No. We just never had the same luck.”

“Wrong, Sakura. It wasn’t about luck. They just didn’t want us. They wanted to bring Kakashi-sensei down.”

“What do you mean?”

“That coup d’etat was going to happen anyway. You know the council never liked the way Kaka-sensei did things. Hell, they didn’t like the way Tsunade did things.”

Sakura stared at him in silence for a few moments. 

“What?” He frowned at her silence. 

“You didn’t call her ‘Granny’.”

“Well, I’m 28 already. Guess I grew out of it.”

“Wait, you’re 28?”

“How old are you, Sakura?” He said with an easy smile.

She stood quietly. She was 28. But she was alive for the past five years as well. Celebrating birthdays the best way they could, in the quiet of the night, with small smiles and bottles of liquor. Naruto, on the other hand, was dead. He was forever 23. 

“What have you been doing in the past 5 years and so?”

“Same thing Shisui did in his 10. Except I had two eyes, so it helped a lot. I collected info. Laid low. Learned a lot about Kayq and her regiment. I wanted to come back before, but I got hold back.”

“You got into a fight?”

Naruto laughed again.

“I got into countless fights in those years. But shouldn’t you get going?”

Sakura sighed and looked at her clock.

“Already lost my timing. I’ll have to fight now. It won’t be as quiet as we wanted.”

“You have back up now. We can do it quietly.”

They both smiled wickedly.

Team 7 was back.

No one warned them. No one said it'd be easy. No. But no one said it'd be that hard. 

To bury their loved ones. To see the Memorial Stone get fuller everyday. The sleepless nights. The endless days. The fights that never get them any sense of closure, even when they won. 

And they won a lot. They were the winners. Coming home with flags above coffins singing "We won, yeah, we won" — but at what cost? 

They already lost so much that some days losing was what it felt like. Killing an enemy wasn't winning anymore, like it was in the past. It was just taking another life. It was just dirtying your hands with more blood, a blood you can't never wash out, no matter how hard you scrub it. 

They were animals fighting for territory and dominance. 

They weren't people anymore. 

People have dreams and joy and love and smiles and happiness and families. They lost it all along the way. 

What were they now, but puppets of the War? 

In the end, broken shells fighting for God knows what coming to their tends to eat ration just to be able to stand and repeat. Day after day. 

That's where the only thing that kept their humanity came in. 

The Thank-God-We're-Not-Dead Sex started and never really stopped. For some, it's been weeks. For others, months. Years, even. It was proof they were still alive. And being alive was all that mattered in that moment. 

For some, it's been weeks. For others, months. Years, even, they've come to this realization. Being alive is all that matters now. And they'd do anything to survive. 

Anything. 

And to feel alive. 

Even fuck. 

As if fucking is such a dirty thing. 

Maybe it was for some of them at some point in the narrative of their lives. Fucking, not making love. Fucking, not sharing a real connection. Fucking, like animals, not like real human beings. But they slaughtered like animals. What else was there to lose, in all honesty?

So it all began with a kiss. Or with simply tearing clothes out of the way, no kiss, no romance. Simply pulling each other against a tree and making the pounding sounds shake the ground above while they tried to remind each other in each other's arms they were still alive. And alive is all that matters now. 

"So, how are we gonna do it? You're dead and all, so no one's looking for you, so you have this advantage, but I'm pretty much alive and have a bounty on my head which means I'm pretty fucked and already lost the guards shift."

"Calm down, Sakura." He dismissed it all with a hand, like it was just a flea bugging him while he was trying to fall asleep. "Everything is going to work out."

A vein popped in her forehead. 

"Just — like that? We're not Gennin anymore, Naruto. We're not playing Catch the Cat. Where we can fail and be caught and try again. This is War —"

"You think I've forgotten?" His voice took a somber tone, one she was way too used to, unfortunately. One she wishes she never knew. But that same War introduced that tone to her, to his vocal chords. That dark, cold tone of voice that suited Naruto at all. "I might've vanished, but I was not on vacation. The things I did while I was gone… They will never stop haunting me."

Sakura almost felt ashamed. 

Of course he kept on fighting. Like Shisui did. Of course he kept on killing, torturing, ripping nails and eyeballs. Of course the War didn't stop for him just because he had to play dead. Maybe it intensified because he had to do it. One never knows another's reality. Not until being slapped in the face with it. 

"I — I know. It's just… what the fuck are we gonna do now? The plan is out. We calculated this for weeks. The distractions, their schedules, everything, so we all could escape without danger."

"But Sakura," he smiled, devilish "what is life without a little danger?"

Sakura huffed. This was turning into a moo point. Discussing with Naruto was useless. Her plan went to shit already, so she could at least listen to what he had to say. If he had something at all to say. She sure as fuck hoped he had. 

"How good is your genjutsu?"

She puffed her chest. "Fucking perfect."

"Then we're settled."

She snorted. 

"You want to use genjutsu against Kayq's trained men? They are, as I said, trained."

"And your genjutsu is, as you said, perfect."

An intricate hand sign later and they were invisible to the trained eye, even. Sakura had talent to genjutsu even since she was a Gennin. As years passed by, she only trained harder and perfect her skills especially to her I&T specialty.  She’d never be able to hit a level of dojutsu’s ability like the Tsukuyomi, but her genjutsu were intricate at best. They wouldn’t need torture, though. They’d need to change reality e

enough to escape. 

Kill and escape. 

Nothing good ever comes with leaving Kayq’s men alive, not from their experience and point of view. They were soulless soldiers, just like their master. 

So kill and escape they did. 

Sakura cast the genjutsu and Naruto did the first two killings, Sakura following suit killing the remaining five men with such precise ability of a medical scalpel Tsunade was proud of. 

It would be at least an hour for anyone to notice, but an hour running is nothing when you’re on the run. Is too close to comfort. They shunshied away to as far as they could possibly go. And started to run — for their lives. 

No one said it was easy. 

No one said it was going to be that hard. 

No one said it was going to be so heart fulfilling to run through the trees with Naruto again, after six long years. 

After all the mourning, after believing so hard she’d lost a part of herself. Naruto’s death took a toll on all of them. It was a hard pill to swallow. 

She remembered how Tsunade couldn’t sleep for weeks, seeing as — again — her hopes were murdered in front of her eyes. As, once again, she placed a bet and lost. How, once again, the dream of becoming Hokage didn’t come true. 

But now — now that dream was there, by her side. 

Now that dream was just as alive as the rest of them. With new scars, new nightmares, more blood than his hands should sustain (more blood than any of them should sustain), new stories, new jutsus, new coping mechanisms on how to survive in that hell of a world they now lived in for the past ten years but now — they had hope once again.

‘Cause that’s what Naruto always was and always would be to them: Hope. 

He had missed this. 

Those six years had been lonely, at best. 

What you have  to remember is that what you become to survive is not always who you really are. But, 

being against evil doesn’t always make you good — Ernest Hemingway once said. 

What Naruto did in order to survive had made him, in one’s eye, evil. What they all did made ‘em evil. Made ‘em monsters. 

You do what you have to do. You become who you have to. Surviving is what matters. Your past becomes an armor you cannot take off no matter how many times one says the war is over. And the War wasn’t. The one against themselves and the one against the World. 

When they finally landed, it was Kakashi waiting for them. No fireplace waiting along. Just some tents scattered around the place and some foreign nins talking lowly to each other. 

“Who are they?” Naruto asked in a low voice.

“Allies.” Was all Sakura said. She wasn’t wearing the mask anymore and her hair was pink again. 

They were walking in the direction of their General. 

Kakashi’s eyes went huge as he saw who was accompanying Sakura, who had a small smirk in her lips, but her posture was stiff. 

Naruto was hope, indeed, but he had so much explaining to do. And Kakashi wasn’t smiling at all. 

“Naruto?” His voice was shaking. 

“Hey, sensei.” He said, scratching the back of his head. 

For a moment, there was only silence. 

The two men stood there staring at each other. Sakura thought she might have to intervene as Kakashi’s eyes only grew darker with each passing second and Naruto's little smile died dry on his lips. 

The static was so thick you could feel it with your hands. 

And then — 

Kakashi hugged him.

“Fuck, boy, I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.”

Naruto was in an awkward position, with his arms stuck between the two of them, his eyes wide and looking at Sakura for an explanation. Kakashi never hugged him before. Sakura, on the other hand, seemed just as lost, but had a warm smile on her lips. 

The hug lasted about ten seconds and it was gone as fast as it came. 

Kakashi was composed again when he spoke. 

“You better explain why you vanished for almost six years.”

“It was too risky for me to come back earlier. But when I saw what the Village turned into, I saw I had no choice. Although, I gathered a lot while I was gone.”

“You better.” Sakura said, trying to sound menacing, but the smile was still there. 

The truth is everyone was just too happy he was alive. 

“Believe it!” Naruto said with a fake smile and a thumbs up. 

It put up the hard weight of the War on their shoulders once again. 

They were fugitives of their own Village. 

“You don’t have to put up a facade, you know.” Sakura said as softly as she could. 

“I know. It’s just… I saw a lot. Outside.” Alone. He didn’t have to say. 

No matter how tough it was on everyone, they had each other. Naruto saw the horrors of War alone for half a decade. 

“We…” Sakura sighed. “We are all broken. That’s how light gets in.”

Naruto could feel Kurama chuckle in amusement at that statement. 

She isn't wrong, you know, brat? You did well. 

It’s been quite a while since he manifested. He took that as a good sign. He did well. He was alive. He was back. 

Kakashi whistled. 

“Everyone!” The ten people turned to him. “Assemble. Time to rest. We’ll take the night shift. Tomorrow is a new day and we’re far from the rendezvous point. So rest well.”

Everyone set into their tents, three of them, while the three ninjas stood talking not above whispers. 

“You two need to rest as well. I’ll take the first shift, then Sakura and you, Naruto. If I recall, your stamina is to be envied, so I guess you’ll be alright.”

“I will. But —”

“What?” Kakashi asked, true concern in his voice. 

“I can’t sleep just yet.”

“Nightmares?” He asked as if he was discussing the weather. 

Nightmares are job description in the field.

“Not really. Yes, but no. It’s just —”

He sighed deeply. 

"Maybe Nagato was right when he said there would never be such a thing as true peace." Naruto mumbled, just as a bomb hit the camp they were on, taking half of the sight of Sakura's right eye with it and someone's left side body.

There was smoke all over. 

He couldn’t hear properly, his senses blurred as the bomb was extremely loud. 

‘Deidara’, he thought. ‘It’s probably one of Deidara’s explosions’. 

He couldn’t see and getting into his feet was hard when he was feeling so dizzy from the buzzing in his ears. But he managed to get into fours and started patting his way, until he felt a leg dismembered from its body. Nausea hit him, regardless of not being the first time he encountered a comrade with missing body parts, but it never became easier. He swallowed hard and fought to get into his feet, struggling a bit less now that the buzzing was going away. 

“Sakura! Kakashi!” He yelled into the smoke. “Where are you?” 

A scream cut through it and his blood froze. It was Sakura. He never heard her scream in the past ten years or so. 

He ran in the direction of the scream, stumbling a little.

“Sakura!”

“My — my eye!” She was yelling frantically. “MY EYE!”

He could see her face now. 

It was all covered in blood, from top to bottom, the entire right side completely unrecognizable amidst the blood and she was holding her eye with bloodied hands, her visible eye completely frantic. 

“I CAN’T SEE!”

Naruto swallowed harder. 

She was pouring chakra into her eye, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect. In less than a second, another bomb shook the ground to their left. 

Sakura left her own face and got to her feet, groaning. 

“We have to fight.” She stated with a weak, tremulous voice. “Where is Kakas—”

They didn’t need an answer to that question, as they heard the sound of a thousand birds cutting the air in the direction the last explosion came from.   

The destroyed place turned into a battlefield in the blink of an eye. It seemed they were the only survivors, their makeshift comrades from other villages being too unlucky to be in the exact location the bomb fell. 

Sakura “healed” her eye just enough to stop the bleeding and got into her feet, her previous panic locked away somewhere else in order to attend to the question in hand. 

(Naruto would never cease to be amazed by the woman she grew into.)

He couldn’t lose them. Not now. Not after just getting them back so shortly. 

Kurama?

There was nothing else he needed to say. 

In a second, he was one with the Tailed Beast. 

In a second, Sakura was breaking the ground beside him and he had a split second reaction to jump out of its way. 

Team 7 was back.

eight years earlier

August 3032, 2 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

"Your hair."

"What?"

"Your hair." He coughed and wiped the blood from his mouth with his torn fingerless glove 

"Your hair, it isn't short." 

"Well, it happens when you let it grow and don't cut it." She raised an eyebrow and said it in a no shit, Sherlock kind of way. She crouched in front of him and her fingers twitched to pull his mask down — she didn't do it. 

After all these years, there was still that stupid bet in the air. The bet rised to a few thousand ryo, but she suspected highly that Genma and Iruka were fucking with her, because it is downright impossible to befriend the man for decades and don’t see his face. 

So she made her own bet with the Rookie 9 that 1. He had dimples 2. Genma saw his first before Iruka; then her bet with the senseis that 1. Iruka saw his face before Genma did 2. He had prominent canines; his bet with Tsunade and Shizune was that 1 – Well, actually, Tsunade refused to make a bet with her, until the first two bottles of sake, so Sakura waited for her to make the first move then gambled 1. he looked like an averaged guy and 2. He had dimples.

The dimples were a certainty she didn’t want to let go.

(He doesn’t have dimples.)

While she scanned his body there was a silence comfortable enough that was broken only by his hiss as she cleaned the nasty cut in his eyebrow with alcohol — it was sake, actually. Her hospital alcohol ran off days ago, so she regaled on the sake. The only question was where the fuck the sake came from. It wasn’t from her shisou once she knew every single brand Tsunade liked and disliked (but drank anyways) and this one had a foreign alphabet. She'd have to ask around and maybe scowl the owner for having alcohol out in the battlefield. She hadn't had her pills with her, after all. 

(a lie. she had. not even close to half of her stock, maybe not even a quarter, but enough for a couple days. she was just rationalizing. hypocrite)

She turned her thoughts out of her decay. Kakashi was a mess. He had first degree burns in his left arm and some spreading at his chest. There was blood in his hair, making it heavy and kinda less disheveled due the dampness of the dry blood, making it look almost black instead of crimson, as it should — his gray hair was still in sight, despite the blood, full with dirt and a few tufts were also burnt. He looked like an odd sheep — not him, his hair. 

He looked like a portrait of what a war looks like. Scarred yet cicatrized, soaked in blood, smelling of cover, iron, gore, cruor. His eyes were sharp like a falcon, always watching, not a single move was missed, even when his gaze seemed so unfocused like he was drifting off.

She learnt years ago that most of the time despite his eyes being buried in his books he was watching everything like an eagle, not even a drop of water falling from a leaf escaping his eyes. 

He also looked tired, worn out. Traumatized, but that was buried so deep you can only catch a glance when his hands embed into someone’s chest — especially someone young and female — and then it is gone like a blow of wind. 

He looked like a tiger ready to launch towards its prey. He looked like a wolf circling its kill, playing with it for a single moment, giving it a breath of hope of escaping, thinking this game will last a few more seconds, thinking it will be able to break free with a distraction, just to be lacerated in a blink of an eye. Like a fox, a panther, a lion. A fucking crocodile — embedded in mud, hiding behind the moss, until it is too late and you lose your leg. A bloody hippo — that shit is the most dangerous animal on the planet. And it is just like Kakashi. It looks cute if you look at it from a certain angle. When he gives you his eye crinkle, when he is eating without taking his mask off, when he peels oranges with all the patience in the world, when he doesn’t murder three annoying gennin, when he ruffles your hair, when he has a hell of an ass, when he rubs his necks and comes out with lies so, so bad you can’t help smiling, you can’t imagine the murder machine he is — when you look at a hippo with his missing teeth, huge head and big belly you don’t imagine that thing would kill you brutally, that can crush, squelch you, rip you apart.

Sakura swallows and breaks free from her revelry.

"So is yours."

Her mouth is dry.

“What?" He parroted.

Like a dog.  

"Your hair is longer too." She wrinkled her nose.

Dogs are man's best friend, right? thing twice. Rabid dogs are responsible for the death of 25 thousand people around the world. You don’t want to be around a rabid dog when he wants to bite. 

Sakura heard what the Elders call Kakashi. They call him Rabid Dog as his father was the White Fang. She doesn’t have nor want to wonder why — even though they’ve been in enough missions in the past five years for her to know. She wonders what they call her. 

"Though... Did you cut it on your own?"

He barked a muffled laugh that died in seconds as he pressed his side — broken limbs (people tend to think only ribs break on the torso) and nearly a pierced lung. She had to go there once she was over here. The poison was almost out of his deep cut in his silver — was it still silver? there was way too much blood to tell — eyebrow. She furrowed her pink — not so pink no more. She had her own scars now too — eyebrows a bit. He'd up to have a new scar. 

"It was falling all over my eyes, and, well, I've been out for a while, but I still think that fashion wouldn't appreciate how it looked like." Even in pain he was in a slouched pose that had to hurt.

"So you cut it yourself with a kunai?"

He lifted one finger, breathing hard with his pierced left lung, and told her in his best sensei voice. “It was a tanto.”

“It still looks like shit.” She offered sweetly.

He just shrugged lightly, not wanting to move too much, but she saw his mask contort into a smile. 

“I bet five ryo that being in that lazy lag pose of yours hurts.” She closed her eyes and worked her way through his chakra pathways again with more precision this time. His lungs were beginning to receive blood and that would be fatal if she lost a single second.

“Years of practicing.”

She couldn’t deny it. The man sat at the base of the tree like he owned it, like it was his couch.

A small twitch of her lips and she opened one eye with mirth dancing in it, but closed it just as fast as it could've never been open in the first place — he was watching her intently. 

Silence fell upon them.

She had her eyes closed tight, brow furrowed in concentration and the tiredness was wearing down his body plus her chakra was just like chamomile tea with honey, comforting him into a lullaby unspoken. He just wanted to sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept more than three hours. Insomnia drives people mad, he heard it once. 

And he was thirsty. 

His mouth was dry and he could feel his hands shaking lightly. He shook his head, banning the thoughts that would eventually fall upon him.

abstinence

Sakura opened one of her eyes, the green was so intense he could swear to himself that the colour alone could trap the whole world in a genjutsu that would leave the Infinite Tsukuyomi crying under the bed. She could see his soul and he could see hers. Her chakra touched him far too deeply and strong and he shivered. So did she. Sakura closed her eyes in a millisecond. It could’ve been all in his head. Insomnie drives people mad, he heard it once. 

He pretended to close his eyes and felt the sun leaving. 

"Did it hurt?" 

It was like a lullaby. Like a too colorful lollipop forbidden by his parents, slapped gently out of his hand, prohibited until he finished his dinner and washed his plate. It was like hot chocolate dripping from strawberry you look through the window of a candy shop, but you have a sweet tooth and diabetes. Like a bee in a flower and you are allergic. Like taboo, a book you’re too young to read, but you open it anyway. 

Her eyes were closed still and he could tell that she probably hadn't slept any more than he did. Her lips were cracked. 

"It always does." He slowly cracked one eye open to see her mirroring it, but with no humor at all — but she wasn't mad either. She could taste the saccharine dripping in between the red in the sky, leaving their fingers like cane molasses, sloppy with whitish gum, milky closed in amidst two fingers. She could indeed see inside his soul. 

It didn’t matter. Her face didn’t betray a heart beat, even though he could feel it against his gloved finger over her pulse — he didn’t know when or why he put it there. And she could feel his, her hand over his heart, his lung painfully recovered. It didn’t matter. After all, it seemed she mastered looking just as emotionless as he managed. He licked his lips, even though she couldn’t see it. The mask writhed. "Yes, it did sting a bit." He lied.

"Hm." She didn't believe it. He just closed his eyes.

Maybe he drifted off, 'cause when his eyes opened again it was because she was lifting his eyelids, pointing an annoying light at them. When he tried to move, her hands were already out his face and she was already up, stretching. He averted his eyes.

Damn, he was thirsty. 

She gave her back to him and he tried to sit more comfortably on the hard floor. 

If he ever needed proof she was fighting nearby, the cracked floor was the proof. The tree he was leaning was somewhat in its way to fall, half of the roots out. That made sitting comfortably there a little bit harder. The ground was full of small cracks and some miles north there was a massive hole — just where her fist met soil for the last time. There were only bits and pieces of the man she crashed (literally), right in front of his eyes, saving him what could've been his death. The enemy was able to almost sink the kunai over his eye, embed in purple poison that rolled over his eye and he'd thought he'd go blind. He didn't.

Lately, all of his guesses and bets just kept coming out wrong. Tsunade would've been proud. 

Tsunade would've been proud of her, as well. The girl was indeed strong and rather good— great — as a medic. 

And as a person, actually. She’s grown. And he wouldn’t loathe himself and low his head by assuming he had nothing to do with it. He gathered through his life that every single misstep has its importance. 

The Butterfly Effect is precise. 

You could not remove a single grain of sand from its place without thereby changing something throughout all parts of the immeasurable whole. 

The butterfly flapped its wings every time he looked at her, he encouraged her or reprimanded, the times he smiled or skipped the bill, every time he sneezed or escaped the hospital, when he would pretend he was aloof to the world, when he wanted to punch gennin-Sasuke for treating her like shit — all of it shaped, molded her into the woman she was this day. It might seem ridiculous, but maybe if he didn’t offer her apple juice instead of grape juice that Wednesday three years ago some trait of her personality could’ve changed. The thing about the Butterfly Effect is that you will never know what would’ve changed if you turned into the wrong — or right — direction. You’re blindfolded and will be forever. Maybe that’s the beauty of it. Maybe that’s the curse. He would never know if there was something he should’ve done to make it all easier. 

Small events can serve as catalysts that act on starting conditions.

Die instead of Obito? He’d go through this one a lot. Save Rin? Been there to save Minato? Or at least Kushina? Or both? Be there for Naruto? Gluing Sasuke into a tree so he wouldn't flee and go rogue? Tell Naruto his father was The Fourth Hokage? Don’t gamble with Tsunade? Don’t drunk gamble with Tsunade? Look after Asuma more carefully? Look after his team? — see, it’s impossible to know if that’s about Asuma’s team or Kakashi’s. In the end, he didn’t look after none. 

Father , he would think some days, there is a growing queue of things I’d like to ask your help for and I don’t know where to put it.  

Other days he would just do what he did at best — shut himself off from the world. Scratch the itch until it bled, quench his hankering, the world forgetting, by the world forgot, to drown and become deaf, mute, blind — except 

He didn’t go blind. 

"Get ready to move in 10."

(It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world – it was Chaos Theory, he read once.)

Sakura was possibly a good leader as well. Maybe she'd be a good teacher, a good sensei, even. She didn't have a flick of patience but neither did he or Tsunade and she turned out okay — as far as “okay” is concerned in its definition. The kids would be lucky. She could be sweet when she wanted to. She also could pulverize your brains within seconds — that'd be even more effective to control brats. Yeah. She should give it a try, someday. If the three of them, unstable and unbalanced, survived under his tutelage, well, she could pull it off too. They were still alive. He was a good teacher. He almost snarled to himself.

He was dead tired and didn't wanna move for the next few days, but he could smell something in the air — something off. They'd better move fast then. He craved a seal into the almost fallen tree. The seal would activate and send a warning to him if certain chakra-like signatures passed by. It was the best he could do by now. He was barely skin and bones, most of his weapons, scrolls, seals and shit were done. They had to refill his stock quickly.

He was doing mental notes when she came to stand in front of him again as he put himself up, still leaning against the falling tree, cleaning his hands in his pants, as if it would do any help. It didn’t. It was a chestnut tree. 

Her eyes were dead serious now. None of the sweetness was there. She looked older like that. She was older. But, how old was she, again? 

She threw a bottle at his feet and the glass exploded as if there was an explosive tag attached to it. Explosive tags too , he made a mental note to stock those too, his supplies were lower than he thought. 

"Your sake stock ran out.” Her voice was like platinum cutting on iron. It was like watching a tanto going against a sword, the sound cutting the air as much as it could cut a hand a head off. It made his teeth clench, but the mask didn’t budge. “I had to use it in the injuries. Yours” — she pointed a finger with gnawed nails “included.” She dropped her hand and her eyes stared at him, so fiercely he knew he should be scared. She was mad. Angry. Livid. Wrathful. Disappointed, even. It should hurt. He didn't flinch. 

"Next time, before I see it" She spoke even lower, as if she was telling him a secret. Even standing taller than her, she held a posture that made it look like she was the mother scolding her son that burnt the bread and dug his finger in the cake. Or the son that strangled a rabbit. He was a bad kid. "Burn. that. shit."

Lower and slower. She could be scary when she was like that — no hands into fists, no arms crossed in front of her. No, no. She didn’t look like a teenager pissed at her boyfriend. She looked like a tall empress in all her glory and hatred giving her plebs another chance to breathe. She was really fucking dead serious, her back stiffened. Her green, green eyes were a shade darker, due the light. They looked brown. A greenish brown.

“It’s not sake.”

If she was an empress, he was a fucking tall mountain, touched by the hurricane, but never bowing to it. He didn’t mean to disrespect her or to stand against her. He didn’t want to prove a point. He wanted to fucking sleep. To this war to be over. But he wasn’t about to bow. Bow to no one, was what he learnt — he didn’t hear or read that; he learnt. He wasn’t about to bow to Sakura, even if it was out of gratitude or to make the mission easier. The tension would be a dark, stormy cloud over their heads, no rest for the wicked, making their shoulders heavy and their eyes sting. Either you bow or you don’t. Two people can’t be right in the same discussion. 

He wouldn’t bow.

“Wha— what?” Her voice hit a higher pitch, her green eyes all but burned. The clouds were already there, at their backs, pulling them to the ground, gravity lulling it, against them. He was a level higher than she was, the ground uneven due her punch and she stepped in, one step to his right and one in front of him. She was still much smaller, but her eyes — 

“It’s not sake.” He pointed, calmly, as that was important somehow “It is, hum, vodka. Is stronger than sake.” 

Her mouth opened infinitesimally and then closed with a click of her teeth. She looked like a warrior, her hair in the wind and her eyes as hard as his tightened pants in summer mornings. She could be merciful, but wouldn’t. 

(She didn’t have nails to break when she ran them over his back but her teeth dug onto his shoulder to compensate. If his howl was either from pain or pleasure, it didn’t matter. It was muffled and reality was nothing but a dream, high on amphetamines and poisoned by absinthe. Truth and existence were background noise when she came for the second time and he threw his head back five point two seconds later while she was riding him; in the middle of the act, nothing can be that timed out, and he smiled — his mask was still on and he didn’t know yet that Kurenai —)

She eyed him skeptically and there was an inner struggle on beat the fuck out of him or just let it pass. He thought, he bet on, she would beat the life out of him. 

She just stared at him a little longer.

"It's flammable, anyway." She spitted out.

Acid on his eyes would've been better. She spat blood on the ground with her back turned to him, ten feet away.

He looked at the remains of what was a bottle. 

He blinked.

She was walking away. 

He didn't go blind. 

six years later

October 3038, 8 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

“Your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair.” She coughed and whipped the blood from her mouth with the gloves still on, also smeared with blood. 

“What’s with it?”

“It’s too long.”

He barked a way too honest laugh for the moment. Sakura wasn’t sure of what was so funny about his hair being long, but the bangs were getting into his eyes. She got a kunai from her pouch and took off her gloves. 

They were in the aftermath of a quick battle. The two of them against fifteen rogue nin. Or not-rogue. It didn’t matter anymore. They were enemies . The word “rogue” didn’t mean much of a thing these days as it did a lifetime ago. 

“Close your eyes.”

He did as told and she began to work in his hair. Her own hair was too long for her liking, but she didn’t give a fuck to be honest. It was past her mid back, and it was too easy for enemies to grab — like it happened another lifetime ago, at the Chunnin Exams. She killed the sound nin that did that to her. 

(”If you worried less about wearing shampoo and more about your ninja training, this wouldn’t be happening.” The older woman towering over her said, sarcasm and mockery in her tone as she held Sakura by the hair. She could feel her hair being pulled from her skull and it hurt . She knew it was an exam and they were supposed to handle it by themselves, but she never once in her life wished so much for Kakashi-sensei to be there to tell them at least what to do, where to go from there. 

With Naruto and Sasuke knocked unconscious, it was all by herself — again. And, as usual, she’d have to handle it.

She pulled the kunai from her pouch and the ninja mocked her. The words didn’t ever strike when she cut her hair in one swift motion. Sakura took advantage of their shock and embedded the kunai in the woman’s thigh and ripped the skin.

There are  few places in the body that can cause a clean hemorrhage that can kill you slowly. The artery between the thighs is one of them. 

Blood painted her face once more and she could feel a devilish grin spreading through her lips.)

As she finished her handwork, her fingers didn’t twitch to pull down the mask. She’d seen his face so many times she’s lost count. 

She lost her previous bets, at least, the one she remembered of: Kakashi didn’t have dimples. 

He had a mole, though. 

She licked her way through that mole to his mouth countless times. That mole traveled its way through her body countless times. 

(“Why do you like thunderstorms?”
“‘Cause even nature needs to scream sometimes.”)

The very first times Kakashi held Sakura, he held her as if she was something fragile. 

And she was indeed.

But she wasn’t fragile like a flower. 

She was fragile like a bomb. 

The very first times Sakura held Kakashi, she held him like he would break.

Break her down. 

But you can’t break a broken person further than it allows you to.

She was torn — after all, we are made of those who built and broken us. 

And Sakura was already too broken to be ripped apart to a greater extent.

So they swallowed each other altogether. 

Broken souls dancing together in a dance in a frantic rhythm, that broke beds and pounded into her mercilessly. 

Her moans were swallowed by his mouth, mask off, his face in full display only for her to see and bask on it. She ripped it apart with gnawed nails, tearing apart the fabric, tearing apart his defenses, putting him in the spotlight of her too bright eyes that devoured him whole. 

And he devoured her in return. 

(Their very first time he didn’t take the mask off. They didn’t know yet that Kurenai died in an attack that burned her alive along with her child. They mourned her death by getting high and drunk. It was their best defense — to run away from reality.

Their second time, Sakura tried to take off the mask, but he pinned her arms above her head and when he swallowed a full breast into his covered mouth, the wet fabric causing friction, she forgot about it. 

She didn’t know when he finally opened up enough to let her see it. Too high on vicodin and hormones, his face was the most beautiful blur she ever saw.  All the angels fitted her small deadly hands perfectly, hurting her in all the ways she learnt to love to survive. It was the sweet relief of giving in to destruction. 

Sakura wears strength and darkness equally well, the girl has always been half goddess, half hell — is what Kakashi always thought of her, seeing her in the battlefield or lying naked, basking in the afterglow in his bed. Naked both baring her soul and her body.)

They ripped one another apart just to piece each other together afterwards. 

It was what made them feel alive . ‘Cause they couldn’t just sit still and stare at their wounds forever. And it they couldn’t heal it, was it by chakra or by time, they could at least do whatever it took to 

survive. 

Survival of the fittest, Darwin wrote. 

Natural Selection, Darwin wrote. 

Only those apt to survive would survive. 

Only those who would do anything to survive, would. 

He didn’t theorized about War, though. Just Natural Selection, it is. 

Just the bigger animal eating the smaller. Just lions hunting. Just the smarter beating the dumbest. 

But that didn’t work forever. 

Shikamaru beat Hidan, yet he returned. 

They killed the entire Akatsuki, yet they returned. 

Hashirama beat Madara, yet he used Izanami. Yet, he returned.

Yet, they kept coming back. 

One by one. 

Their ghosts kept coming back to haunt them. 

Their loved ones kept falling on their feet and they were powerless. 

All they could do was mourn. 

Mourn and

And

Survive. 

Like Darwin once said. 

“I’m done with your hair. You can open your eyes.”

Kakashi opened his eyes slowly, like he was waking up from a dream. A pleasant one, for a change.

“How do I look?” He asked, his voice low. 

“Like you.”

“Is that good?”

She pulled his mask down. 

He let her. 

Survive. 

From their position, Sakura was taller, as she was standing and he was sitting in a tree trunk. She squatted in front of him, just a bit. Their lips met, calm and gentle at the beginning until it turned frantic. 

Their teeth clinked, but they couldn’t care less.
Their clothes were torn and they were dirtied with blood. The smell didn’t bother them anymore for years now. The only smell they would feel in moments would be the one of sex. 

She opened her mouth to give room to his tongue, exploring every corner possible. She moaned low into his mouth, which he followed suit. They wouldn’t last long and both knew it, but that didn’t matter. 

Nothing really mattered. 

As their bodies began to move in unison, the same question arose: were they in love? 

After so many years, you begin to question yourself. 

You also begin to question what love really is. 

What love really means.

And if the answer to the question is really important at all. 

(The answer is no, it doesn’t matter. It’s not important. They would demolish entire civilizations for each other and build entire countries for each other. They would drown and save. They would tear down, raze to the ground and pull it up again. They’d do anything and everything. That should answer it, but it never did. Because, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. No one will ever know the violence it took for them to be this gentle with one another.)

It’s strange. 

Strange how they learnt to decorate pain. 

three years later

May 3040, 10 years after the beginning of the 4th Great Ninja War

Shit fuck piece of a flying cock was the well versed sentence rolling inside Itachi's head. He could feel his insides turning because not again . He slaughtered his entire clan to avoid precisely what was happening: a fucking coup d'êtat. Except this time they had their fucking hands tied. 

Somehow, they saw it coming at the same time they didn't. They didn't really have the time to keep an eye on the pettiness of the Council and that was a terrible mistake that Kakashi never forgave himself for, even though no one blamed him for it. 

Things were bad. Pretty, pretty bad. 

The coup d'êtat of the Uchiha Clan was to be at a peaceful time, not in the middle of the worst war the shinobi world has ever faced. At that time the Hokage and his advisories noticed what was going on and were able to counteract — even if it meant send a 13 year old to annihilate his entire family. 

At the moment, they couldn't look to the left, right, up, under, back and ahead at the same time. Even with some of the brightest ninja in strategy, everyday was a struggle. There were multiplies attacks everyday and the Leaf was supposed to be a safe house, not a fucking threat. 

But, of course, the Foundation never understood this. 

So, instead of helping or any fucking decent thing in times of war, they used the weakness as an opportunity and took Kakashi out. 

And then hell took the wheels. 

They didn't have a spy — not anymore. They managed to plant two of them, which lasted less than two months, so their intel was pathetically shallow. And, then, they died, the two of them. And the fuckers executed one of their own, a fucking kid from the Foundation and a woman that was just a sympathizer of the rebellions' cause. The message was clear: send someone they even considered a threat and they would erase them. Literally erase. They vanished with all the bodies. No burial, no grave, no nothing. It was like they never existed. 

Without the spies they were relying on their old infos and picking up things as they went. As Shikamaru would say, it was a drag not having the upper hand or, in their case, not even a hand. All the old spies could send them only enlightened certain aspects, but it was hard to predict the next government's move or how aware they were of the Resistance.

What they could kept sending were summons, like Sai's or even fucking Pakkun, small frogs, Lady Katsuyu and, still, it wasn't enough.

But they couldn't keep sending spies because they all would end up dead. 

Except —

One night, one spy sent himself in. And that spy was no other than the very first double agent from the Leaf: Itachi Uchiha. 

He went after the coup this time, so there was nothing for him to stop, but he went nonetheless. 

If someone could manage to infiltrate, that would be him. 

The next morning, the HQ was to wake with a note from Itachi saying "let the big guy handle it" and Kakashi was probably going to fucking kill him, but shinobis die in battle, die for noble causes. And fucking Kayq was a hell of a noble cause.

He used a passage to the Anbu Headquarters that was long forgotten, but he knew that was still there. It was almost like a broom closet, at a far corner in one of the old dresser rooms. No one used that route anymore because no one remembered it, once it was impractical and useless. It was more useful to skip school, but Anbu didn't skip school. Kakashi showed it to him a lifetime ago. The memory brought a smile to his lips, but then he felt how his mouth was dry. 

He counted only five guards in that level and he did the math into disposing them or just circling them — he chose the latter. The higher he went, more and more guards he found and the harder it was just to find a way to go unnoticed. 

When he was, finally, on the first floor, there were seventeen guards and there was no way to just go over them, so he just stepped in the middle of the corridor. They all looked at him at the same time and their eyes barely blinked and they were under the genjutsu. He decided to ask, right there. Who knows? Maybe paws know shit sometimes. 

Each and every of them were floating in an orange sky, the crows flapping their wings.

"Tell me, what is the next move the New Regiment is going to pull?"

The man frowned, "I do not know, sir."

"What do you know about Kayq's plans?"

"I don't know anything about this matter, sir."

"What does she know about the Resistance?"

"When do they plan to attack?"

"What are their alliances?"

"Do they have any solid lead?"

And so went on. Yeah, they didn't know shit. He just erased their memory and did a trick to try to make his chakra familiar to them, so if he ever came around them, he would just pass through as a regular, not as an intruder.

Itachi kept walking through the corridor, thanking all the stealth both Anbu and the Akatsuki had taught him. 

Kayq had the Tower guarded way more than Hanzo ever had. Hell, even more than any human being had. 

Kakashi had taught him a jutsu he learnt from the men of the Stone that attacked him, Obito and Rin all those years ago. Only an Uchiha would be able to see through it and as the last remaining Uchiha were himself and Shisui, he didn't have to worry. He wasn't nearly as good as Kakashi at it, but it would do, just for a little. He just needed to get to the ceiling. 

When he finally made his way to the second floor, he noticed a lot of the guards were under a genjutsu, so he decided to disperse it to see the chaos. Nothing works better than chaos when you are trying to be invisible. 

"Release." He whispered with a grin in his voice. When did he learn to be so wicked? He blames Kakashi and Shisui for it. And, mostly, Naruto — it hurts to think about him, so it just made him try even harder. 

Itachi knew Kayq wasn't dumb, so her most important papers wouldn't be at the Hokage Office, as that would be the first place any intruder would go for. No. It was under the carpet of the Children Isle in the Hospital. Well, at least, it was where it was two months ago. However, he had to get to the Elders rooms to get the transportation scroll to get there. 

And then he had to reach the ceiling and his infiltration would be complete.

It was chaos.

Itachi had no idea why she placed them all under a genjutsu, but she did. And now that they were free, all the four floors were chaotic and fun along perfect. He was almost unnoticed and he could just walk right in the middle of the corridor, but it was best not to try his luck — especially when he was suddenly recognized.

"You — he's here! Itach—"

His name died in the man's mouth, as Itachi placed a kunai straight in his heart. All that was left was blood dripping from the very same mouth. Itachi pulled a genjutsu over the body and moved on into the shadows.

He looked at the man one last time and confirmed his suspicion: a Hyuga. They were right: only Hyugas and Uchihas. As all the Uchihas were dead, now they had to work with the Hyuga problem. 

Holy fuck, why isn't everyone blind?  

He made it. Shisui made it. The enemy could go blind just for a while. He thought, but, as the enemy wasn't blind and, even if it was, he concealed his chakra too, pulling up the jutsu the best he could. If he fucked up, he would die. And he was not happy with the prospect of dying for the third time. 

Itachi had his sharingan on the whole time because he couldn't afford to be surprised by absolutely nothing and in the chaos he had to listen to even the faintest whisper. And then he fucking saw it: children. 

Behind one of the doors was a bunch of children. 

That was the genjutsu for. Both for the guards and the kids. 

It was common knowledge how kids were being trained now — become a robot, kill, don't ask, don't feel. That's why they say you have to end the bad by the roots, but they just chopped the trees. And now there was a room filled with children. 

Itachi opened the door and as soon as their eyes turned to him, lifted his finger and placed them in the most pleasant genjutsu he could think of: a desert. 

"There is no use for panic or rage. Once you're under my genjutsu, you'll only break free when I let you. But I assure you, I mean no harm."

The children just looked at him, one older girl putting her body in front of the others. She looked like a mix of Sakura and Naruto. 

"What do you want here then, Itachi of the Sharingan?"

Itachi lifted an eyebrow, surprised his name was still known nowadays. He just wondered how the tale of the bad guy that slaughtered his clan was at this new point of view now that Sasuke was a psychopath too. 

And there, there it was. She had a sparkle of sentiment. It was a rarity these days, especially here, especially right under Kayq's nose. 

"How old are you?"

By her attitude, Itachi thought she wouldn't answer, but after a few seconds looking around the desert she said a barely audible "Twelve."

"So, you're not under the new regiment for long."

The girl snorted. 

"Of course not. I've been to the field already."

"So you know all of this is—" Itachi had to be very cautious with his next words. She didn't yet demonstrate which side she was with. 

"Pure and utterly bullshit? Yes, I know. But at the same time, it might bring justice. My parents died in the War."

"I killed my parents to stop a Civil War — and a War."

"You— how old were you?"

"Thirteen."

She mumbled something under her breath, lost in thought, something that sounded like "Itachi of the Sharingan" or "another Civil War" or "oh my I am trapped in a genjutsu with a guy that killed his family".

"Ain't you a sociopath or something akin?"

"I killed because of orders. The Elders, Danzo — Kayq's mentor — and the Third Hokage."

"Ya telling me they told you to kill your parents?"

"No." She let out a breath that sounded like oh "but I killed my whole clan." 

If she was drinking something, she would've choked on it. 

"You slaughtered your whole clan?" 

Itachi just remained silent. "They ordered you to? Or what?"

"Or this" he just waved around, even though they were in a desert "would’ve happened. Killing people in the street, kidnapping children and pregnant women to torture them, break families apart, transform the entire Land of Fire into a battlefield, censorship, having to go into hiding, people disappearing more and more each day…"

"But this time…"

"This time they just took Kakashi out without any of us seeing it coming. It's the middle of a War."

"But I hear the Sixth was a drunk, irresponsible person that never cared about ‘bout his duties, never committing to anything and brought us to disgrace."

Itachi isn't a violent man, but right now he wanted to punch Kayq's, the Elders or whoever's guts who made it this fucking lie and make them choke on their own intestinal system. And poke their eyes —

"No, he wasn't any of this. What's your name?" 

"Akinos Shora."

Her personality was slowly showing. She was, definitely, a hybrid of Sakura and Naruto. There was that cheerfulness, but at the same time there was this amicable and analyzing, I-know-where-I-am-stepping way. 

"So, Akinos, I am not a sociopath because I was doing what I was told, I was following orders. That's what shinobi do, right?"

"Do we just blindly follow orders? Even when it means… that? I mean, no offense Itachi of the Sharingan, but that is hardly just an order to follow."

Itachi felt his face contort in a sincere smile. 

"Kakashi would've liked you."

Her face went pale. "Kakashi? You mean as in Kakashi —"

"The Copy Ninja?, of the Sharingan?, thousand jutsus, Sixth Hokage? etc, Akinos?" She just shook her head. "Yes. That one. He praises the rules very highly, but he also knows when to leave it behind to do what is actually right, not just taken as correct."

"But…"

"There's no 'but' in this, Akinos. Kakashi would rather die than leave a comrade behind. I don't know what are these fucking stories they are telling nowadays, just that they are not true."

Once again, she seemed lost in thought and Itachi looked around the room to see what he could find. He and Akinos were talking inside his Tsukuyomi so not merely a second had passed already. The other children were also at the genjutsu, each talking to its Itachi on its own desert world. He brought Akinos back and she jumped in surprise at the view of the actual room.

"What's going on?"

"I can defend Kakashi's virtues later. I am here for a purpose —"

"A mission." She smiled sweetly. Itachi would've scratched the back of his neck if he had ever used the action more than thrice in his life.

"Actually, I ran off and came here on my own."

"That's even better." Now, her grin was wicked and for a moment he thought he had misled himself for a child. "What can I do to help?" Jesus fuck, that was close.

"I'll get you all out of here." Akinos opened her mouth to speak, but Itachi beat her on it. "And I would dearly advise you to not call Kakashi, hm, things when you meet him, especially if a girl with pink hair is around."

"Pink hair? I know her! She is awesome! Me and the girls want to be like her and the big boobs blondes! She was my team captain once. Well, not mine because I wasn't even in — nevermind. But why?"

Itachi smiled his own wicked smile and Akinos probably fell in love with him.

"Let's just say she doesn't take it very well when people offend him."

"Oh." Her face crumbled a bit and she was probably remembering Sakura's fists. 

"Hm, Akinos," Itachi did scratch the back of his neck this time, not knowing why or how to ask this "you mentioned, hm, big breasted blondes, in plural. You didn't mean only Lady Tsunade?"

"Ah, no!" Her face lit up again, like a Christmas tree. Definitely Sakura + Naruto. "The other blonde, the one from I&T. She always wears a high ponytail and it's around the guy that's always bored and the one that lost one eye."

"Ah, that's Ino Yamanaka. She's from the Yamanaka clan. And the guys that are always with her are Shikamaru Nara and Choji Akimichi, respectively."

"Oh, that's nice. I also like the other big breasted one."

"Hinata?"

"Gotta ya!" She pointed happily at Itachi's face that frowned. 

"What did you g—"

"You notice their breasts." Akinos crossed her arms in front of her chest, a proud smile on her lips and Itachi felt himself blush. That girl better never say a word of this to Shisui or he would never let it die. 

"Well, it's kind of hard not to notice." 

Akinos half laughed and half giggled. She was mature for her age and Itachi couldn't decide if it was good or bad. "But how do you know so much about them?"

"We used to go on missions with them. And Kayq…" 

She stopped speaking and Itachi didn't need to add: Kayq made the children spy on them. 

"How much do you know?" He asked softly and she blushed when she met his eyes, shaking her head viciously.

"Not much, I swear. We never got to learn enough for Kayq to be satisfied so she punished us. We just know their fighting styles, sleeping schedules and pattern of rotation patrol."

Itachi had to suppress his anger when Akinos said Kayq punished them for not knowing enough. 

"Look, kid," he began while adding some symbols in a scroll "you and your friends will get to this location and will call through Morse Code— do you know Morse?"

"Of course I do." She rolled her eyes.

"Ok." He kept on writing "You will call 'Crow sent burnt eggs'. Understood?"

"'Crow sent burnt eggs'? What does this mean? Will they understand? Won't they just kill us?" She was between incredulous and desperate.

"No. They will understand. Now, gather around the middle of the scroll and when I say so smack your palm in the middle of it. Getting there, do not move or go anywhere, no matter where you may land. Just say what I told you, ok?"

Akinos simply nodded, her face pale. 

Itachi nodded too, setting the scroll on the floor. When all the children were linked and posed at it he nodded and Akinos smacked her palm and disappeared. Now, he could only hope Kakashi wouldn't kill them on sight or just kill him because out of the blue Itachi decided to adopt 5 children. 

When he finally reached the fourth floor and was turning the door knob, the building came to silence. 

" Fuck ."

He had seconds to get in, find the goddamned scroll and get away. 

"Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu." 

Itachi only produced three, as his chakra reserves weren't nearly a sneeze to Naruto's and he had used his sharingan already. He was trying as fast as he could to search the scroll, grabbing a few as well, knowing he would have to wait at least two weeks to return to the Tower. Just as he finally found it, the door knob turned. 

Kayq entered the room just in time to see the puff of smoke. 

Minutes later, dozens of fire crows flew across the sky, lighting it up, you could almost hear their croak, loud and threatening, ready to eat your flesh. Then, just a black flamed crow flew higher and bigger in the middle of all of them until they went in the direction of the Hokage Office and exploded.

The crows were the Resistance signature. It served the purpose of a reminder: We are still here — and we will set you aflame.