A/N: The fascinating characters of Naruto do not belong to me. The pairings in this story are past, one-sided Uchiha Sasuke x Haruno Sakura (SasuSaku) and eventual Hatake Kakashi x Haruno Sakura (KakaSaku).
Info:
Jutsu - Loosely translated to "technique" or "skill".
Chakra - It is a moulding of two different types of energy within the body: the physical energy present in the cells of the body and the spiritual energy gained from exercise and training.
Kunai - A commonly used shinobi weapon. The standard kunai is a steel, black dagger designed for thrusting and stabbing. Different types of kunai have different designs, which suit different functions.
The Academy - The school that shinobi children or shinobi-in-training attend before they are promoted to the rank of Genin.
Genin - The lowest shinobi rank directly above academy students. Usually assigned to teams of three accompanied by a Jounin teacher. They usually carry out the lowest ranking missions, such as D-Rank and C-Rank missions.
Tokubetsu Jounin - Shinobi who are below Jounin rank, but have specialized skills that are Jounin-ranked. As an example, Ibiki Morino is a Tokubetsu Jounin because of his Jounin-level skills in interrogation.
Jounin - The highest shinobi rank of the regular shinobi force after Chuunin. They usually carry out A-Rank and S-Rank missions as well as the occasional Unranked mission.
ANBU - An acronym that stands for "Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai" which can be translated into "Special Assassination and Tactical Squad". ANBU members are considered the elite of elite, and often wear an animal mask and a cloak to hide their identities. They perform high level missions, such as assassinations, torture and guarding the Hokage.
Hokage - The leader of Konoha Gakure also known as the Hidden Leaf Village.
Rokudaime - Loosely translated to "The Sixth Hokage". In the context of this story, Shimura Danzou is only considered to be the interim Rokudaime, who passed away before he could officially inherit the title.
Sharingan no Kakashi - Loosely translated to "Kakashi of the Sharingan". It is one of the nicknames given to Hatake Kakashi along with his other moniker, the Copy Ninja.
"Shishou" - Loosely translated to "master". It is what Sakura calls Tsunade.
"Sensei" - Loosely translated to teacher.
"Taichou" - Loosely translated to captain.
With that, ENJOY~ :D
Don't Break Her Heart
A new life; a new heart beat.
A cry filled the air as a tiny body, swaddled in cloth, was cuddled to Haruno Mebuki's chest, tiny eyes bleary and blinking, revealing unfocused green orbs that looked up at her.
'My precious baby,' she whispered, her husband hugging the both of them close as he reached out to grab a tiny hand, 'Welcome to the world, my Sakura-chan.'
The bundle – Sakura – yawned, curling up further into the warmth of her mother's arms, and Mebuki's heart was full – so overwhelmingly full – of love for her tiny, innocent little daughter.
She would love this little being; she would protect her with all her heart. One day, Mebuki hoped that her daughter would grow up and find the same happiness that she had, but for now, the little girl was hers to hold, hers to guard.
Sakura was her daughter; Sakura was hers.
And, for the first time, though she knew not to whom it was meant, Mebuki hoped and she pleaded.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, love her with all your heart.
Like how I'll love her.
Now and always, no matter what.
The plea was forgotten – or, at least, it wasn't thought about – until her daughter came home from the Academy one day, her eyes flashing a brilliant green, her fair cheeks flushed pink much like the colour of her hair. 'There's this boy, mum,' she had said, bouncing and gesturing wildly, her enthusiasm making Mebuki smile, 'His name is Sasuke-kun. He's so cool.'
Sasuke-kun, Mebuki would come to learn, was actually Uchiha Sasuke, the last living member of the once prestigious Uchiha clan. He was an incredibly good looking child – dark hair, dark eyes with the fairest skin that was complemented by his choice of clothing, which were often shades of blue and black – his skills as a shinobi were heads-and-shoulders above his peers, and the darkness that swirled within him, occasionally breaking through the calm exterior, though it was frowned upon and regarded with suspicion by adults, clung to the boy in the way that attracted girls to him like moths to a bright and brilliant flame, attractive but no less dangerous.
Her daughter, predictably, was one of those girls.
Mebuki hadn't thought much about it then; a girl wouldn't be a girl if she didn't have little crush, and the way her daughter flushed all over, stomping her foot and pouting as her mother teased her about her darling Sasuke-kun was really adorable.
Then, her daughter had grown up, and her feelings – her naïve childish crush – had become more. Sakura's cheeks still flushed pink when Mebuki teased her about the boy, and her reactions were no less amusing than when she had been a child, but along with the sparkle in her eyes came a deeper look, along with blushes came a smile that just glowed with happiness, along with the admiration came anxiety and along with every rejection, perceived or otherwise – tiny gestures ignored, words that had fallen into silence – came a spell of depression before her daughter would bounce back again when rejection was countered with acceptance – unlikely gestures earning acknowledgement, casual words actually connecting in the way that previous calculated attempts at conversations had not.
Mebuki had taken note then, realizing that the naïve childish crush was swiftly taking on the shape of innocent first love.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, let her enjoy her first experience of being in love.
Because Mebuki had seen how Sakura's heart had pumped with ferocity as she fought to prove herself, to her peers, to the one she loved, and how she had kept fighting despite her insecurities and her tears.
Her daughter was a spirited child, and she was too young to have that spirit broken.
But, it was not meant to be. Unlike fairytales where the beauty tames the beast, where love conquers even the most evil of jutsu, this was life, real life, and more than that, it was the life of a shinobi.
There was no place for fairytales.
The boy Sakura loved had become a man she didn't recognize; the girl who had been in love had become a woman whose love had died.
But, that love didn't completely burn to ash; instead, the flames of separation, war and death had melted it and moulded it into a love that was entirely different and just as strong – friendship, true friendship, and the love for a comrade.
Despite Mebuki's own anger and horror at what the Uchiha had put her daughter through – he had tried to kill Sakura – she could, deep down, understand the longing that Sakura had to have him home. Mebuki might not have been field-active – most of her shinobi duties lay within the walls of the village – and she might not have been through as many life-or-death situations with her Genin team as other shinobi had been, but her bond with her teammates was just as strong, just as enduring. One of her teammates had died – had given his life during the Third Shinobi War – and the other was a Jounin – whose schedule was fickle and erratic – but the three of them still met up whenever they could; sharing sake and a good conversation at the Memorial Stone whenever the time was right.
She could only imagine what it was like for Sakura, who was one of the field-active shinobi, who had been through life-or-death situations with her teammates, always in the thick of everything when everything was going wrong.
For that alone, Mebuki prayed as hard as her daughter, probably harder, that somehow the Uchiha could be redeemed, that he could be saved, forgiven.
That he could come home.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, know that you have her to come back to.
Because Mebuki had seen how Sakura had devoted, promised, her heart to the other.
Her daughter was too young to know that promises could be broken; that hearts could be broken.
Things had worked out; it had actually worked out. Through betrayals and invasions, through devastation and war, Konoha had remained standing.
And, Mebuki had sobbed in unrepentant relief that both her husband and her daughter had lived, lived where so many had died, and would continue to be by her side where so many had lost people precious to them.
As she hugged her daughter, for the first time in days, weeks, months, she filled her senses with the sight – bedraggled and exhausted, and more than a little injured with an arm in a sling and bandages curling protectively around her legs – sound – Sakura's voice, hoarse and harsh, as she sobbed, equally as relieved as her mother that her own precious people had survived, had lived – and scent – because even the weeks spent drenched in mud and blood, Sakura still smelt like Sakura – of her daughter. It took days, a week or more, before Mebuki allowed her daughter to return to her designated lodging; insisting that she stayed with her mother, stayed at home – because home wasn't just a building, it was family – and maybe, just maybe, Sakura had felt the same desperate fear because she had consented, returning to her mother every night after a day of work and restoration.
But, though the village had been flattened, the lull brought about by destruction hadn't lasted for long. Soon, everyone had found a routine, had found a way to live even as they worked at building back their lives. The shinobi had always been a resilient bunch, and under a new shared leadership – because, everyone whispered, he had proven himself to be worthy in every way and Tsunade-sama had plans for him – Konoha was on its way to a future that shone brighter than ever before.
Sakura, herself, despite the utter whirlwind that had swept through her life and swept everything up into a chaotic mess, seemed happier than ever before. Her daughter had gone back to living on her own, and despite being busy with both their duties to the village and their own daily obligations in rebuilding their lives, they spoke often enough that Mebuki knew exactly why.
Her team was back together.
She had not lost her new team.
She had not lost her old one either.
And, Sakura was back to babbling about her teammates, light-heartedly grumbling about their antics that drove her crazy, pondering the changes in their dynamics that had come with new teammates and surviving a war.
Especially one Uchiha.
It was also then that Mebuki decided to take action; her thoughts were decidedly civilian, but with all the sacrifice, the costs of fighting and surviving the war, Mebuki decided it was time that Sakura turned her mind to decidedly less life-threatening pursuits.
When Mebuki and her daughter had met Asao-kun at the marketplace – he was a civilian boy, only a year or two older than her own daughter, his mousy brown hair and warm eyes were rather ordinary, but still attractive, and he had always been all gentlemanly charm – Mebuki had casually pointed out the potential between them for something more.
Something not quite as emotionally intense as her previous love, but one more safe, secure, even if it was going to be no less complicated.
Something not quite as insane as the love Sakura would find in shinobi life – because insanity was part and parcel of being a shinobi – but one more sheltered, more ordinary, even if it was going to be just as much work.
Asao-kun would be the first of many that Mebuki would recommend her daughter – though Mebuki preferred civilians, she still took note of lower-ranked shinobi – always hoping that it still wasn't too late to protect Sakura from a love that could be as fulfilling as it was destructive.
She had wanted to recommend her daughter a love that could heal her from the bond that Sakura still held close to her heart.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, let her go.
Because Mebuki had seen how her Sakura's heart had clung on, refusing to release the hope it had even when there had been nothing left.
Her daughter was too young to learn of true loneliness; too young to shy away, too young to miss out on what love was, and could, be like.
No matter how much her daughter protested – railed and rebel against even – Mebuki didn't stop in her well-meaning attempts at matchmaking. Sometimes Sakura would humour her and actually take a chance with a boy who seemed rather nice, if only to get her mother to stop fussing – worrying – over her. Most of the time, however, her strong-willed daughter would have none of it; her thoughts filled with her work and duties, her time engaged with her fellow shinobi, her attention entirely too taken up by her teammates.
Though Mebuki was relieved to realize that Sakura's attention tended to be taken up by all her teammates, and not just one Uchiha.
On hindsight, she should've seen that the change could have been because of a change, in her daughter, in her daughter's heart, but at that point, Mebuki was just happy that Sakura had started to heal from a first love she had never been able to truly experience; that she was finally letting go.
Then, on one stormy night, Mebuki had awoken with a start, her senses tingling, alarm bells echoing in her head.
Something was wrong.
Kunai in hand and a ready burst of chakra at the tips of her fingers, Mebuki had crept out of her room – her husband had stayed over with a friend after their affairs had run late into the night – but as she approached the door, she was beginning to realize that the wards around the house – though still working – had not been set off. A little closer, and she realized the reason behind it.
Standing in under the protection of their tiny porch, form standing, but huddled, curled so tightly into herself as if she just wanted to disappear, chakra so tainted by emotional turmoil that even Mebuki had not recognized it – painANGUISHdespair – was her daughter.
'Sakura?'
Green eyes, glowing with unshed tears, vacant, empty, dead, stared back at her even as Sakura stood unmoving. Not knowing what had caused her daughter such agony, but every motherly instinct reacting to the distress that radiated off her daughter in waves, Mebuki reached out to gently tug at her daughter's cold hand, 'You're soaked. Let's get you inside and dried off-'
Sakura just swayed on the spot, but something, her mother's touch, her mother's words, her mother's voice, seemed to have broken something in her. Tears – mixed in the rain drops that dripped from her daughter's hair – rolled down chilled cheeks even as Sakura was entirely overtaken by shivering, a minute trembling became more and more vicious as the tidal wave of her emotions washed over her.
And, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, her daughter snapped.
It was all Mebuki could do as she pulled her daughter tightly, desperately into her arms, her own heart aching, her own heart breaking as Sakura wept, her entire body heaving with the force of her cries.
'I thought we'd been through the worst of it,' her daughter had sobbed, wrists pressed hard into the balls of her eyes, slender silver chains falling, glimmering in the silver rain, held tight in clenched fists, 'I-I thought it was over, that we'd survived, that he'd survived. I-I thought that, thought that-'
Dog tags. The silver chains were dog tags.
And, dog tags meant that the owner had been sent on a mission; a mission he had yet to return from.
A mission where he had, in all likelihood, been killed in action.
Heedless to the rain – because the icy pain of raindrops on her body was nothing compared to the icy claws that tore into her heart – Mebuki just held her daughter.
She had been too late.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, come home.
Because Mebuki had already recognized the signs that Sakura's own mind, own heart, had yet to grasp.
Her daughter's heart was no longer her own.
The days following the appearance of her daughter on her doorstep, looking like a bedraggled ghostly spectral – in washed out shades of pink and white rather than a ghastly grey – were cycles of clockwork routine. Mebuki still went about her daily activities and shinobi duties – because they may have lived on the fringes of shinobi life, but she and her husband were still very much active-duty shinobi of Konoha – and Sakura still left for her own shinobi duties. But, rather than return to her own apartment in the shinobi district, closer to the administration building and the hospital, Sakura had instead taken to coming home to her family; home where she could stop being Haruno Sakura, the Hokage's apprentice and skilled Tokubetsu Jounin, where she could be just Sakura, the pink-haired girl who still thought that her forehead was a little too big, who cried herself to sleep at night because she was scared of the dark, of the monster in her closet, of nightmares.
Even if her nightmare this time was a little too real to be comforted by her father's gentle hand and her mother's special chocolate.
Two weeks after this despairing routine – because Mebuki always loved having her daughter home, with her, but this was not something she ever wanted her daughter to experience, this sense of overwhelming loss that seemed unbearable; her daughter was dying before her very eyes, and Mebuki could only help her cope, with unconditional love – the Haruno family were interrupted by a knock at the door in the dead of the night. Mebuki felt her heart leap to her throat at the sight of an ANBU member at the door. She was sure that her daughter's heart must have done the same, though for a completely different reason, as Sakura all but grabbed at the ANBU's cloak, her green eyes wide and verdant, glimmering with a growing ember even in the dim light.
'They brought back your dog tags,' she had whispered hoarsely, 'I saw them give your dog tags to shishou along with his…'
Sakura fell silent, but her voiceless anguish rang in Mebuki's ears, her heart aching, breaking for her.
The ANBU hadn't stop her daughter's actions – Sakura knew the ANBU, Mebuki thought dazedly – though he held himself still – he was, after all, still ANBU.
'He's not out of the woods yet,' the ANBU had answered, his voice muffled, 'but he does need his dog tags back.'
And, as if those words were a spell, Sakura had burst into a flurry of action; immediately dashing up the stairs and racing back down in a matter of minutes completely dressed to head out, her medic pack slung on one shoulder, silver dog tags clutched in one hand. Mebuki had expected her daughter to take off after the ANBU without a backward glance – wouldn't have blamed her even if she did – but Sakura surprised her when she stopped at the door and looked at her mother, her eyes desperate, pleading.
How could Mebuki have refused her when she had been willing to let her little girl vanish into the night without even sparing her mother a single thought?
'Come back tomorrow morning. You still need to eat, and I'll prepare a little extra for you to bring for him. Any shinobi worth their salt hate hospital food, and I'm sure he's no different from the lot of them.'
The grateful glow in Sakura's eyes, the love that infused her with a radiance from within was all the promise Mebuki needed as she hugged her daughter briefly, but tightly, before nudging her off, watching as pink winked out, leaving nothing but inky black.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, continue to live.
Because Mebuki knew that Sakura's heart now beat for the life of another.
Her daughter would not survive – a piece of her would be forever dead – if he did not.
As promised, Sakura had indeed come home the next morning – pink hair sticking out at all angles, face pale and eyes dark from a night spent in terrifying worry, but a lightness in her step and a glow about her that made her less of a spectral and more, simply more, beautiful in her joyous relief – and she had kissed her mother lightly on the cheek as she left, a packed breakfast in hand and the promise to call or visit as soon as she could.
Never had Mebuki been so happy to see her daughter out of the house.
Life fell back into routine after that; the normal humdrum that filled Mebuki with a certain sense of contentment. Her days were peppered by short phone calls from Sakura when she could squeeze time in between missions, hospital rounds and training, and occasionally, she would even drop by; sometimes, she would sulk about a new hoop her shishou made her jump through or she would complain about Sai's new heights of social inability and Naruto's new heights of just being infuriatingly Naruto.
Though, she grudgingly admitted, her blond teammate was well on his way to becoming the Hokage he had always wanted to be.
More interesting – at least in Mebuki's eyes – were the times when Sakura would speak with fond exasperation, grumble with familiar, habitual, routine annoyance of a certain silver-haired shinobi.
Whose name, Mebuki later found out, had been inscribed on the dog tags her daughter had brought home that fateful night.
This was punctuated with moments where Sakura would talk of her squad leader with slight awe as she recounted certain battle feats or new discovery that gave new insight to his reputation as one of the strongest shinobi around, and other moments where she would just trail off, her face glowing pinker than her hair as she became flustered and stammered about things that Mebuki would innocently point out – because it made sense that Hatake-san would have an amazing body as he was an active-duty shinobi who trained long hours every day.
Every new conversation, every new development that happened – whether Sakura was aware or not that said development had happened – left Mebuki feeling both happy, incredibly happy for her daughter, and just a little sad.
Unlike the first time, this time, things were different. Her daughter was no longer a child, not even an impressionable teen. Sure she was young by the reckoning of civilians, but at the age of 18, her daughter had fought wars, had experienced death, had dealt death, had experienced the pain of loss, had experience the depth of comradeship; she was young, but she was no longer innocent the way she had been, naïve in the way she had been when she first understood and pursued love.
Mebuki's recommendations no longer stood a chance.
This was the reason why she had raised her daughter amongst civilians, the reason why she had hesitated in enrolling her daughter in the Academy.
But, in the end, she hadn't been able to bring herself to keep depriving Sakura of the experiences she herself had had as a kunoichi; it was a bittersweet moment for Mebuki when she realized that her daughter had indeed found her rightful place in the shinobi world, something Sakura had fought long and hard for.
Finding her place in the shinobi world, especially for someone of her caliber, her breadth of experience and her set of skills, which had clinched her spot as someone vital to the world she had chosen, it also meant that Sakura no longer had a place in the civilian world.
That she would no longer have the chance of having a sheltered life, of finding a safe, ordinary love – because love was always complex, always complicated, always risky, but Mebuki had selfishly wanted her daughter to experience the normal rollercoaster complexities of romance, had selfishly wanted to protect her from the emotional intensity and insanity that came with loving a shinobi, especially a shinobi who was a battle-hardened mission veteran.
But, Sakura herself was a battle-hardened mission veteran, and it was no slight to say that no civilian, who had only ever lived a sheltered life, who could only offer her a safe, ordinary love would ever be worthy in her eyes.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, see that she is worthy, that she is worth it.
Because Mebuki knew that Sakura's heart had found someone that was worth keeping, worth holding, worth loving.
Her daughter had fallen, fallen hard, and would find anything, anyone else wanting, now that she had found someone she knew was worthy of her, worth it all, worth her all.
Years would pass without any significant change. Her daughter was content to remain as a Tokubetsu Jounin, but she was also promoted to the position of Hokage's aide, training under Shizune-san even as the elder woman moved on with Tsunade-sama becoming the Head of the General Hospital. Mebuki knew that with her new position, which had brought her one step closer to her love interest, they would only become closer.
So, Mebuki couldn't say that she was surprised when the Hokage turned up on her doorstep one day, serious and solemn. What had surprise her was that he was alone – not with her daughter or any of his ANBU guards – and he was dressed in the standard Jounin uniform, lacking the cloak or any other article of clothing that pronounced his rank.
'Hokage-sama,' she greeted, bowing respectfully, 'how may I be of service to you?'
The Hokage looked her straight in the eye as he answered, 'Haruno-san, my name is Hatake Kakashi. It is truly a pleasure to meet you.'
It was then that Mebuki realized the significance their meeting; the fact that he was alone, dressed in the standard garb of a shinobi, not quite hiding the slight anxiety that seemed to flicker in the air between them.
He was not here as the Hokage; he was here simply because he was the man her daughter had chosen.
The man her daughter loved.
'He's just so different, mum,' Sakura had said, her green eyes unusually thoughtful as they shared a hot pot of tea between them, 'Every other shinobi I know have always had something to prove, have always had to prove that they stood out; that they were stronger, better, than their peers. Even those who don't, those who were already legendary, who had already risen above everyone else and were acknowledged for it, they just accepted it as a part of their life. But, he… He always seems so uncomfortable that people think he's better, and even though he is different, even though he stands out in every way, there are times when he seems like he just wants to blend in with everyone else.'
Her daughter's eyes had softened; her next words a near whisper, 'He always seems to think that he's never quite as good as everyone else makes him out to be; that he's really no different, no better, than everyone else. I certainly think that he thinks of himself as less than anyone else if his stupid, self-sacrificing stunts are anything to go by; he always puts everyone before himself.'
Mebuki could understand her daughter's words better now that she had the man sitting in her kitchen. Of course she had known who he was – there was precious little who hadn't known about Sharingan no Kakashi even before he had been appointed Hokage – but now, because of her daughter, through her daughter, she knew him.
Not as Hatake Kakashi, the man much talked about because of his father, his past, his reputation, his battle feats, but as Kakashi-sensei, the teacher her daughter had talked about even from her early days when she was just discovering her first love, who had stunned her with his abilities as a shinobi – though Sakura admitted that it would take her a few more years before she begun to truly realize just how capable her teacher actually was – and had given her the foundation – the first building block that had helped her build her own Ninja Way, which was the most important thing of a shinobi – to pursue further interests and horizons.
Not as Hatake Kakashi, Commander of the Third Division of the Shinobi Alliance during the Fourth War, war hero, who was whispered to have played a significant part in the ending of the said war, but as Kakashi-taichou, the squad leader and captain who had protected her daughter, who had guided her and pushed her yet had sheltered her and shielded her, whom she had come to look upon with admiration and respect, yet whom she chided because of his carelessness with his own health, and whom she too had come to want to protect and shelter, even if he was still the more powerful one of the both of them.
Not as Hatake Kakashi the Rokudaime Hokage, their newest leader who had become a beacon of hope in the midst of restoration, who had been tasked by Tsunade-sama as the one to lead Konoha to a new tomorrow, but as Kakashi, the man her daughter had come to see as hers; hers to protect and defend, hers to fight with, hers to laugh with, hers to challenge, hers to understand, hers to heal, hers to die for, hers to live for.
Hers to love.
And, Mebuki had to know.
'Hatake-sama-'
'Kakashi, call me Kakashi,' the man cleared his throat, sounding a little discomfited by the title she had called him.
Mebuki hid a small smile. 'Kakashi-kun,' she said pointedly, and when there were no further protests – not even to the '-kun' she had tacked on rather than the '-san' she should probably have used – she continued, 'does Sakura know that you're here?'
Because there could only be one reason why her daughter had not tagged along.
'She will,' Kakashi answered, his hand rubbing the back of his head, a sheepish gesture, 'soon enough anyway.'
The older Haruno woman couldn't help the little laugh that escaped her. 'Why didn't you tell her you were coming?'
And, Kakashi dropped his nonchalance, his voice entirely serious, 'There are so many ways in which this can go wrong.'
Really, this man would never stop surprising her.
'You think I would disapprove?' Mebuki questioned, keeping her tone light.
The silver-haired shinobi shrugged. There was a hint of hesitancy in the gesture, a hint of helplessness, defenselessness, vulnerability. Mebuki knew that he was anything but – he was the Hokage, after all, and even now, she could feel the power that was coiled within that lean frame, the oppressive power that would've been overwhelming if it weren't for his astounding sense of control – and that he was only open, honest, unguarded now because he was allowing her beyond his barriers.
It was a gift he was giving her freely simply because she was Haruno Mebuki, because she was Sakura's mother.
'Sakura is lucky that she has parents who love her, parents who would be there for her.'
The way he spoke of her, it was as if he knew exactly what she was like, who she was, and it dawned upon her that her own discoveries really worked both ways.
Just as she knew Kakashi, in the same way, Kakashi did know her.
Because Sakura had told him about her.
'You know,' she said, now certain at the reason for her daughter's ignorance and absence, 'she's a strong, independent girl. Sakura wouldn't like it if she knew you were fighting her battles for her.'
Because there could only be one reason why Kakashi had come alone, why he had not come with Sakura.
He had known how much she loved her daughter, and more importantly, how much her daughter loved her.
How much it would hurt if everything went south, if painful hopes were dashed and shattered.
'I won't take your daughter away from you; I refuse to do that to Sakura.'
Really, Mebuki could see why her daughter had fallen so hard for this man; her own heart was turning into mush in the face of his disarming understanding and acceptance, his genuine resolve and affection.
But, what she was also looking for something different, something more.
'So, if something does go wrong,' Mebuki asked, her tone hard, serious, testing, 'you would let her go?'
Because what was love without a little trouble? What was love without a little pain? And, though Kakashi might want to protect Sakura from that pain, to make a choice that would spare her the pain, sometimes, there was no avoiding it.
Especially when it was worth the pain.
Because the reward was happiness.
And, Mebuki needed to know.
Kakashi's visible eye had darkened at her question, piercing her with its intensity. 'I love your daughter, Haruno-san,' he said, quietly, his voice thrumming with an undercurrent of emotion, 'I will not let her go unless I have to, unless she wants me to.'
There. That was what Mebuki had wanted to hear.
Because love was not only about giving in, about being self-sacrificial and about thinking solely about one's partner.
It was also about being willing to fight it out, about being selfish – about wanting, desiring, needing one's partner so much that one would put those wants, desires, needs above all else, that everyone else's expectations and interests paled in comparison – and about thinking also about one's own wishes, dreams and expectations – because love meant that one could truly be oneself, without the need for bluff or pretense, in the presence of one's partner.
When both struck a balance, when both learnt to compromise between the two contradictory facets of being in a relationship, being in love, that was when the pain became worth it.
There was no way Mebuki wasn't going to support her daughter, support Kakashi, support them both in this.
'Make her happy,' Mebuki had said, her tone a mixture of honest pleading with the threat that Kakashi may have been Hokage, but not even he could escape the wrath of an angry mother.
Please, please don't break her heart.
'I'll try,' Kakashi promised, and once again, Mebuki could see why her daughter had chosen this man. Brutal honesty, pragmatic, realistic; no empty promises.
Simply a promise that he would do his best to keep.
Please, please, fight for her.
As he left, his entire expression had softened, a look of awe melded into utter contentment and appreciation. With a bow, he whispered, hoarse yet full of emotion, 'Thank you for trusting me with your daughter.'
It was then that Mebuki knew.
Sakura couldn't have chosen a better partner; she was going to live a very, very happy life.
Because Mebuki knew that Sakura's heart held the strength of another, her heartbeat strong and steady because it danced to the same tune as the heart of the other, utterly in sync with each other.
He had returned her daughter's love, and would be her strength even as she was his, would be her healer and protector even as she was his; he would be hers as she belonged to him.
Two days had passed before her daughter turned up at her doorstep, serious and nervous, and not quite managing to hide the determination that curled in a circle of lazy chakra – it was a battle stance, Mebuki noted, biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing, her daughter looked like she was preparing for a fight. The timing of her daughter's appearance and her daughter's overall disposition dispelled all notions that this was unrelated to Mebuki's previous little rendezvous.
Taking pity on her daughter, Mebuki decided to cut straight to the chase, pausing only to pour tea and give her daughter time to settle at the table before giving Sakura the opening she needed, 'Kakashi-kun dropped by for a visit the other day.'
Her casual address of Kakashi that had spoken clearly of acceptance and familiarity seemed to undo her daughter, who slumped over her tea cup in relief. 'You're not going tell me that I might be doing the wrong thing?' Sakura asked softly.
'There are so many ways in which this can go wrong.'
'Sakura is lucky that she has parents who love her, parents who would be there for her.'
'I won't take your daughter away from you; I refuse to do that to Sakura.'
'I love your daughter, Haruno-san.'
'I will not let her go unless I have to, unless she wants me to.'
'I'll try.'
'Thank you for trusting me with your daughter.'
'No,' Mebuki answered, equally softly as she placed a hand over her daughter's, which had been placed on the table, her fingers curling comfortingly, protectively, 'As long as you're happy…'
Sakura curled her own fingers, interlinking them with her mother's. 'I am, mum, I definitely am.'
The conversation then took a lighter turn. This was, after all, the first real conversation she had with her daughter about the man she had chosen, the man she loved.
The man who loved her in return.
Sakura's cheeks still flushed pink when Mebuki teased her about Kakashi, and her heart sang with joy that Sakura's reactions – for all the bitterness of war and loss, for all the heartache, heartbreak that she had been through – were no less amusing than when she had been when she was but a child with a crush, a teenager who had innocently fallen in love for the first time.
But, the sparkle in her eyes was more brilliant than before, deeper, much deeper, and more multifaceted in its beauty. The blush that stained her cheeks glowed, not only with shy embarrassment, but also with contentment and a fulfilling joy, the smile tugging at her lips fond and a touch teasing – the smile of a woman who had found a person who accepted her entirely, who desired her utterly; a woman who had found a person she accepted entirely, whom she utterly desired. Along with the admiration came anxiety – the kind of tension that hummed with electrifying chemistry – and affection, a bond that spoke of mutual trust and understanding. There was no longer rejection – at least, not the type that drove her daughter into depression – but there were still misunderstandings and arguments – because what was love without a little trouble – and rather than simply give in, trading her views and opinions for acknowledgment, her daughter had fought to keep herself, her own identity, alive even as she fought to keep the bond alive, safe and secure in the knowledge that, just as she would never reject him, her partner would never reject her because, just as she loved him, he loved her in return.
And, Mebuki knew that the time for recommendations had passed.
'Take care of yourself,' Mebuki murmured softly as she embraced her daughter, holding on just a little tighter than usual as she said goodbye for the day, 'Don't break his heart.'
Please, please, don't break his heart.
And, though Sakura would've normally brushed off such excessive displays of affection – she and her daughter were so close that overt gestures of affection never seemed to sit quite right between them – something in Mebuki's voice must've caught Sakura's attention because her daughter only hugged her back just as tightly, her head buried in her mother's neck, her voice muffled as she whispered, 'I love him, mum. I really, really love him.'
There was awe in her daughter's voice melded into utter bliss – an expression that was familiar though it had been worn by a different person – as she looked her mother in the eye – her gaze so deep, so full – and said, 'And, he loves me back.'
Please, please, understand that by doing so, you would be breaking your own.
With tear-filled eyes and a heart so full, Mebuki knew that it was time to let her daughter go. She would still watch over her daughter, because Sakura would never stop being her baby, but for now – and hopefully, for the rest of her daughter's life – Sakura was no longer hers to hold.
Because Mebuki knew that Sakura now held the heart of another within her chest; the heart that made up a half of her own heart.
Her daughter was bound to the one she loved, the one who loved her in return; they had truly become one, and no heart could beat if it was only half a heart.
A new life; a new heart beat.
Sakura was her daughter; Sakura was no longer hers.
And so, Mebuki hoped and she pleaded.
Please, please, don't break her heart.
Please, please, love her with all your heart.
Like how I've loved her.
And, how I always will.