It was quiet in the streets of Konoha, the dead quiet that comes halfway the night, just before dawn lingers behind the horizon. Sakura walked down the streets, cold and shivering from tiredness after an extra long shift in the hospital. Her muscles ached and her mind was reeling with impressions of the hospital. She couldn't bring her mind into the same quietness as the city around her. She listened to her hollow footsteps on the stones, sounding as hollow as she felt.
Her restlessness didn't take her to her tiny appartment, but to the outskirts of the city to the memorial stone. When the buildings receded, the air around her became more humid, influencing her view, almost fog-like. When the memorial stone appeared on top of the hill, she saw a faint shadow next to it.
Closing in, the shadow materialised into the shape of a man. At this time of night it could be only one person: Hatake Kakashi. He didn't move when she approached, seemingly into thought, head bend. There was no acknowledgment of her presence until he finally said: "Rough night?".
She sighed: "The usual."
They were silent for some time. Sakura felt like she interupted something. "Kakashi-sensei..., gomen, I didn't mean to interrupt your contemplation..."
Kakashi sighed: "Don't apologize, this place is for everybody. I don't own the dead. Maybe it is a good thing to be interrupted by someone alive". He turned his head towards her and gave her his charateristic eye-crinckle.
Sakura sighed again: "the living are demanding, keeping them alive keeps my mind reeling tonight. I was hoping to find some peace here with the dead."
She was quiet for some time and then added reluctantly: "I miss them Kakashi...how do you keep on being a shinobi?" She felt some emotion stirring in the back of her throat.
He just looked at her for some time. Weighing her question, looking down on her. She rubbed her arms with her hands, shivering. He looked at the memorial again, deep in thought, then he said: "they died because they believed in this shinobi life, and were prepared to give their lives to protect Konoha and they gave it without any hestiation. I would do them a dishonour to grieve and retire. Instead I grieve and still help fulfilling their dream, transferring it to the next generations. That is why I keep going."
She felt a lump in her throat, hot tears behind her eys. She felt ashamed of her grief and apathic feelings of just missing them. But then Kakashi added: "But Sakura, this resolve took a long time to take shape. It is ok to miss them. Everytime you come here and grief, the pain will become a little less."
He stepped towards her and raised his hand to her face, with his thumbs he wiped a tear from her cheek, lifted her chin and gave a comforting nod as well as the eye-crinckle. She took a deep breath and let it out shaking.
"Youre cold".
"Yes."
"Come on. Let's get you somewhere warm, who leaves the hospital at three in the morning in only that skimpy outfit?"
She looked down at her regular outfit, red tank, black shorts, pink skirt, knee high boots. Then it dawned on her that he made a joke and she punched his shoulder. "Auch! be gentle with this old man!"
She felt herself getting warm with emotion. He was once her teacher, and these last years, after the war this teacher student relationship seemed slowly to reach a level of friendship. They shared common grief and scars, still went sometimes on missions together and still they trained. Her insane strength due to her training with Tsunade, made her a good trainingpartner for the copycat nin. There weren't many shinobi that formed a challenge to his skills. He quite enjoyed their sparring sessions and felt always a bit apprehensive before starting. He had his reputation to uphold. The truth was, that he admired her skills and strenght. She changed into a highly skilled kunoichi, highly intelligent and inventive in her profession as a medic, but also in battle. Only his experience gave his some advantage over her during training, he must admit with a sigh. He looked down at her, noticing her shivering while she walked quietly next to him.
She felt completely at ease with him, knowing all his strange habits, like these nightly excusions to the memorial stone. Somehow she copied this last habit, the war leaving scars in her mind, causing restlessness in her mind at the quiet hours of the night, when there was no more work to distract her. Having the same scars, he knew exactly how she felt and was glad to be able to share this feeling with somebody, especially her. She was trying to fill the emptiness with endless work, exhausting her body so that there was nothing left than tiredness and in the end sleep. He knew the drill and mutilated his body to distract himself in a completely different manner during the years. Thank god she was always there to fix him up. Never questioning him or asking why he did it to himself, why he took every mission there was, even suicidal ones. He liked that she didn't question the obvious. Because she recognized the same routine in herself.
They reached his appartment, which was close to the outskirts of the city. "Come up for some tea?" She nodded and followed him on the stairs. Closing the door behind them, he turned on the central heating. She looked around curiously, she never saw his appartment from the inside. It was minimalistic. A small low table, cushions around it, a small couch, modern design. On the wall two wooden planks with his books. There was a small kitchen in the living room and a small bar to eat at. In the adjorning room she saw a glimpse of a two person bed.
"Tea?"
She nodded yes and he threw his flack jacket in a corner in the hallway, took of his sandals and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
"There is a blanket under the couch".
She wrapped herself in the blanket.
'Thanks" she mumbled, letting herself sink into the warmth of it. While putting on a kettle he chanced a look at her, seeing pink hair sticking out of the white blanket. She was dozing off on his couch. He smiled to himself. Pouring hot water on the tealeaves. After seeping for a while, he filled two mugs with the green tea and padded towards the couch. Softly sitting next to her, he took off his long sleeve t shirt with a sigh. Leaving on his tanktop with mask attached. He put his headband on the table, ruffling his fingers through his hair. His body was sore, his arms full of cuts and bruises from a mission. Cluttered blood coverd his lower arm on the right.
"I never saw you without that headband". She was awake and watching him, smiling softly. "You look different."
He pulled up his eyebrows in mocked suprise: "Good different or bad different?"
She sat up straight looking him over again: "I think good." He chuckled, feeling an itching in his stomach that surprised him. Why did he find her comment so pleasing?
She took the cup of tea from his hands, brushing his fingers in the process. He felt himself get warm and confused. Where was this feeling coming from? This was his former student for christ's sake!
She frowned at the touch. But took her tea and sipped from it. "I can feel my feet again" she said. "But inside I'm still cold."
He grunted: "that will take more than tea to warm".
He felt the low hum of healing chakra on his lower arm all of a sudden. He leaned back to the couch with a sigh, relishing the feeling of her featherlight touch. He heard her breahting change and he glanced at her. Her face was white.
"Stop it Sakura, you are exhausted as it is. It can wait until the morning".
"But...".
"No buts, you just rest."
Her fingers left his skin, which he regretted, but her fragile face was worrying him, she was exhausting herself even more than he suspected.
"Drink some more tea".
She sipped shakingly. He thought some time and then asked her:"Do you want to sleep here? My bed is big enough to sleep decently next to each other..." He fell silent, scared for her reaction. He felt like he overstepped some invisible rule that formed the fabric of their friendship: "you are in no shape to walk home".
She mumbeld inaudible and dozed off again. He made a quick decision and scooped her up in his arms, blanket and all. She squeeled, a girly high pitched one. He chuckled. Effortlessly carried her to his bed and tucked her in, as if she was an infant. She pouted. But not long after her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep.
He padded back to the couch, sipping his tea thoughtfully. She was exhausting herself on purpose, to fight the emptiness and pain. He felt a sharp pang at this thought. He wished for her to heal. Maybe they could heal together, since they also grieved together. She reminded him of Rin, except for the rage that she had in her. Rin was all soft and kind. Sakura matched his present day self better, a fierce kunoichi, scarred by battle and pain, her softness a sharp edge. Quickly laughing and quick to anger. He liked the fire in her eyes and the sudden moodswings. Suddenly he felt himself getting warm again with emotion. What was this feeling and would he dare to act on it?
Finishing his cup he turned off the lights and slipped into his bed, carefull not to wake her. He listened to her breath, and mimicked with his body her quiet form, sleeping on her side in the bed. Suddenly he didn't want to think any longer about anything. He reached under the covers, pressed himself into her back, holding her belly, revelling in her warmth. She kept on sleeping. And after a while he felt his own senses give up and drifted off, in complete peace.
He woke with a start. Her soothing warmth still present but different. She was turned towards him and stared at him, quietly, mesmerized, he realised with a start that she had removed his mask.
His instinct was to clasp his hands to his face immediately. But within the blink of an eye he felt her lips on his. He froze. She kissed him! Every fibre in his body screamed! This was his former student! She was just a child! He pushed here back, startled, held her at arms lenght. She didn't flinch, but sat up next to him, the blankets slowly falling away, revealing her perk breasts, moisture shone on her bottom lip. She slowly caressed his cheek, tracing the line of his cheek to his chin. Mesmerized. He found himself full with crazy butterflies and the emptyness in his mind filled up like a cup with a warm flood of emotions. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him and he returned the kiss. First hesitant, then darker feelings took over. She moaned in his mouth. His heartrate speeded up with each moan, while he cupped her breast and stroked the hard nipples with his thumb. "Kakashi...": she moaned, "please...".