preface:
(g.h./t.b.o.l.t.)
and the old
gypsy woman
with her crinkly old, leather skin
asked me,
"boy, what lies beyond the edge of town?"
and so i said unto her,
"madam, i do not know."
and then, with her leather skin, she smiled
and said,
"boy, you are lying,"
and so that is how i lied to her
June 30.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
Hello. It's Sakura. How have you been? Have the prison guards been treating you correctly? If they aren't, show them this letter and tell them that I will be coming—that'll teach them, right? After all, you're human, right? We—all of us—are only human. Right? You don't deserve this—you deserve better; that, Naruto and I know of.
You need to eat more—Konohagakure isn't trying to poison you, you know; neither is Hi no Kuni. You know the daimyo—and his wife (remember Tora? Her—as quoted by Naruto—fatass cat?)—he's just doing this for the good of his country. I don't think that he means any harm. Besides, you're in a palace—you can complain that you're not getting the proper nourishment, can't you? You can pretend to be a pansy and whine, "I don't have enough space!" and they'll be sure to move you somewhere roomier. Right?
Naruto's been whining about how we "never see your face or your ass" again. It's wasn't Tsunade-shishou's decision to move you to the Royal Prison—it was the Council's. You know how they are—stuffed-shirts with seven-foot poles up their asses. Tsunade-shishou's been trying to veto the decision but there's not much she can do for now. Don't worry—you'll be out soon, okay?
(I'm purposely ignoring the trial—everybody is.)
I'm sorry. For everything. I mean, I didn't know that it would be this bad—it would require some sort of imprisonment, of course, but the Royal Guard? That was just ridiculous, don't you think? Even Tsunade-shishou thought so. Don't tell her this—ever, or I will castrate you—but I think that she has a soft spot for you. Naruto doesn't think so, though. (He's just jealous.)
And there were some tomatoes attached but the Guards are probably afraid that they contained keys or something so I don't know if they're there or not. I don't think that so many tomatoes are too great for your health and all, but you like them, right? I thought about sending you osechi for the New Year but they'd probably throw that away, too, after all my hard work.
Did I mention that that Kakashi-sensei would be visiting you in about two days? On Thursday, I mean. I think that he's going to bring something—maybe rice balls?—for you. There are members of the Hyuuga clan there, right? Don't worry—it's not going to be bad (I know that you're thinking, Who's worrying? but I'm a little worried for you right now), okay? Remember what I said, okay? Eat more, okay? Sleep more, alright? Be please in good health for—
-
July 05.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
There's bad news, and the good news. And since you can't pick, I'll just start with the good news first, okay? Good news is that someone is going to visit you; bad news is that it's not Naruto or me. I guess you're not one for suspense, so I'm not going to leave you hanging. The person? Kakashi-sensei is going to come.
I guess that that counts as bad news—you don't… exactly appreciate him, do you? That's alright—I warned him not to do anything stupid like he usually does, or else he'll have me to come back to and I can almost guarantee you that it won't be a pretty sight if he does anything, okay?
So, how's your life been? Damp? Are the prisons damp, I mean? I guess not—the Royal Palace shouldn't be so drafty, right? Is it moldy? If it is, you know what to do, right? Say in their faces, "Haruno Sakura is going to come and kick your asses to Sunagakure," okay? That way, you'll be in good health—mold isn't exactly the best thing you can do for yourself.
I hope… that you can find it in your heart to forgive us. To forgive everything we've done, and I know that you hate it when I make it sound like we're the ones who packed up and left—or massacred your clan, even—but I'm used to that, you know? I guess I'm used to so many things that you aren't used to, yet. I'm sorry for that, too—I guess we all changed a lot over these two-and-a-half years, right? I apologize for that huge stain—Naruto was splattering ramen all over. We're at Ichiraku's.
Are you eating well? Are you sleeping well? If you're not, then let me know—I'll help you get some sleep. By knocking you out—how much do you sleep, anyways? Four, maybe five? Anyways, I'll be looking forward to—
-
June 22.
Sasuke-kun,
I'm sorry for not writing for so long—it's just that I've been busy over the summer. Did you know that summer is the season where most shinobi get injured? God, I feel perpetually close to fainting all the time. I feel so drained—do you get that feeling a lot?
… And now I remember that you aren't a medic and I feel a little stupid, sorry.
How was Kakashi-sensei? Was he lukewarm? Cold? Unpleasant? And I know that you can't answer back—you know; those stuffed-shirts, sorry excuses for prison guards are idiotic and stupid—but… it's corny, I know, but I feel as if you are here next to me when I write like this. It's strange, though. Usually, everyone is next to me, but there's nobody next to me right now. It feels a little empty. There's no noise, just silence.
So what did Kakashi-sensei say to you? He wouldn't tell us exactly. He just shrugged and said, "It's none of your business," and—
-
June 25.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
It's Sakura again. Just wondering on how you've been doing—there's nothing much happening in Konohagakure right now and even it there was, Tsunade-shishou wouldn't tell me, much less the others. How have you been, anyways? We're still not allowed to visit you, although Kakashi-sensei is. I keep on complaining to Tsunade-shishou but she says that it's the Council's decision, but I don't really think about it that way; I guess it's because I'm pretty biased about that kind of thing—you know, about the Council and… stuff, for the lack of a better word (Naruto's been rubbing off of me)—
-
July 17.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
Sorry about not writing again. It's just that we've been pretty busy, sorting out things with the other Kage. Have you been sleeping well? Have you been eating well? Are they treating you badly? Just sock them in the eyes—and tell them that I told you to do it so that you won't get into much trouble. Kakashi-sensei says that he's going to visit you some time around the week after next week—I'll send some tomatoes with him so that you won't—
-
July 23.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
Happy Birthday to you! Turns out Kakashi-sensei plans on visiting you later today (the Royal Palace isn't very far from Konohagakure, is it?) and he says that—
-
August 29.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
Sorry, again, for—
-
September 03.
Dear Sasuke-kun,
Hey—
-
September 13.
Dear Sasuke-kun—
-
October 30.
Dear—
-
November 9.
—Sasuke-kun—
gingerbread houses.
(the basics of level three.)
the loved birds.
Is it really okay, a thought ran fleetingly through Kakashi's head, to be talking to his former student like this? And his former student, when Kakashi spoke to him, turned his head away—you could tell that he was half listening and half looking out into the empty space to the right of him—and sighed into his sleeves (dirty, dirty white sleeves).
"Sasuke," he said, but Sasuke did not answer. It was raining—the tiny pitter-patter of cat feet. His hair felt oddly damp, a blur of grey sagging, falling into his eyes. The air was muggy, making the silence stretch longer. "Sasuke," Kakashi tried again, placing a tentative hand on his student's shoulders, feeling him violently flinch back. Sasuke turned around to face Kakashi, scowling angrily.
"What the hell do you want?" he snapped, ignoring the four Royal Guards standing in a corner to the right of him. They secretly shuddered at the sound of his deep voice, but Kakashi sighed instead.
"I want to talk to you."
"Talk to—that's the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life." Sasuke gave an unpleasant snort and crossed his arms, his sharingan activating before a sharp jolt of pain ran through his head. The yelp was not controlled—it slipped out of his mouth, shattering the coming silence that had already enveloped his former teacher. The four Guards appeared to be smirking and he mouthed a harsh Fuck off to him. They stopped—both the wheels and the men.
The beret on top of Kakashi's head (given to him by Sakura, of course—he himself wouldn't just go out and randomly buy something like that) slipped, just a little, and Kakashi had to laugh quietly to himself. Sasuke raised an elegant eyebrow at his former teacher. The boy unconsciously ran his tongue over his lips to wet them and opened his mouth to speak.
"What is that thing on your head—"
"You mean the great Uchiha Sasuke just noticed it?" mocked Kakashi, pressing down on the beret. Sasuke gave an ugly scowl. "It's a beret," he continued to belittle the boy. "A hat. Did you know? Sakura-chan gave it to me—" Sasuke raised his eyebrow again at the suffix added to Sakura's name that wasn't there two-and-a-half years ago "—and I think, my boy, that you are just jealous." The scowl turned even uglier and his crossing of his arms turned from a loose hold to a death grip on himself.
What was he saying? Kakashi mentally scolded himself. Did he want to get caught in that fledgling's trap?
"It's silly, isn't it?" The man sighed, waiting for an answer.
"What's silly? You?"
… Count on Sasuke to say something like that.
"No," he drawled in response. "My beret is silly. This place is silly—" Kakashi purposely ignored the annoyed grunts coming from the four Royal Guards "—and yet I'm sitting in your little cell of yours—you're not going to run away again, are you?—and, well, I'm talking to you. Isn't that silly? Isn't that so stupid, for the lack of a better term? Hm…." He fingered his chin idly, watching the Uchiha boy from the corner of his dark grey eyes like a storm brewing in April. Or March. July. Sometime.
"What would Sakura-chan say instead of 'silly,' Sasuke?"
The boy did not answer—he was looking out into space again.
Kakashi frowned and lowered his deep voice deeper until his throat felt oddly funny. "Well, then," he said as he looked around more carefully. There was a wooden tray next to Sasuke will plates filled with steamed rice—it must be very cold by now; dinner was at least three hours ago (it was ten o'clock at night already; little boys breaking their curfew again?)—and a clay mug with cold green tea. His chopsticks were on the tray—black ones; black enough to match Sasuke's eyes.
"… What would Naruto—"
And then he heard a crash, feeling startled like a doe. The chopsticks—or, at least, one of them—flew onto the ground; the other one was stuck into the wall. Cold rice lay beneath Kakashi's feet. The tea had splashed onto flak jacket; his beret dripped with green tea—it was a nice smell, actually, but this was not the time to be criticizing the prison's tea, right?
He would be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised, but what surprised him the most was that the Royal Guard did not do anything about it.
"What—"
"Don't talk to me right now," Sasuke snarled.
"I don't think that—"
"Don't."
The rice crunched beneath Kakashi's feet and he pretended that the guards were not there—just him and his former student sitting in a dark and gloomy and damp place; prison—it's actually quite funny when he thought about it.
"Do you miss the sun?"
"Excuse me?" The way he said it—"Excuse me?"—sounded so aristocratic, so formal. What's formal about this? Kakashi thought, somewhat bitterly. We are in a prison cell, Sasuke. You are sitting here, bored out of your mind—if you had one, of course—and you can say "Excuse me?" like you were the finest thing since life itself. How fake. What a faux persona. Naruto would be ashamed of you.
"I said," Kakashi repeated himself—he really didn't like doing that, "do you miss the sun?" At that, Sasuke snorted; his gaze went from whatever was there in space to him to Kakashi's eyes, piercing him with his stare, pinning him down. He suppressed a threatening shudder from his spine—this was his former student, but if he said that there was absolutely nothing to worry about then he'd be lying to the world, much less himself.
Sasuke tilted his head back, raising his chin, and that horrid excuse for clothes slipped even lower, exposing his pale, slender neck—and Kakashi could see the faint black swirls of the curse seal.
"No," the boy replied after a while, his dark eyes nearly hidden from his thick eyelashes. "I don't."
"You don't?" Kakashi said as he raised his one visible eyebrow. "Really, now…."
The boy uncrossed his arms and his stare grew faint. "I despise the sun, actually," he murmured in what was supposed to be a pleasant manner and a wild pandemonium happened in Kakashi's head. His voice was just like Orochimaru's. "It's quite revolting, waking me up all the time in the morning. What if I don't want to be woken up?" Sasuke's arms resumed to being crossed. "Honestly."
"Revolting?"
He sighed. "It makes me feel… for the lack of a better term, dead."
"Dead." Kakashi stepped until he was directly in front of his former student. "And, may I ask, how do you feel dead?"
"I don't know," replied Sasuke nonchalantly and he shrugged it all off—typical of him to do so. He was now crossing his arms and his legs, his right foot swaying back and forth until it drove Kakashi crazy. Sit still, he wanted to say. "It just makes me feel dead," Sasuke continued to say, either unaware of the tension he was causing or he was doing it on purpose. "I've told you that, haven't I?"
It took a while to reply to him without saying something completely idiotic.
"I think," Kakashi began slowly, dragging out his syllables, "that you have somewhere to go."
"Wh—"
"I think that you have somewhere to go," repeated Kakashi firmly, "but the thing is that you just don't know where your home is. You are walking your path—that is what you know—but what you don't know is where your home is. On your path are holes—holes made from… from everyone—and you just keep on falling down. Do you understand me?"
Sasuke gave him an unreadable look before saying, "Are you mad?"
"What?" he blurted out stupidly, much to his dismay.
"I said, are you mad?" Sasuke's right foot stopped its swaying and Kakashi silently thanked the Gods. "I mean, has Sakura finally punched you to the point of you going mad on me? Have Naruto's verbal bitchslaps—you know, the I'm-not-going-to-give-up thing—eaten your brain or something? He softly snorted and looked away, his coal-black eyes narrowing into slits. "Honestly. I've never liked them."
"You've never liked them but you've always loved them, haven't you?"
The boy stopped dead but hid the surprise in his eyes.
"What did you just say?" he demanded coolly. His eyes were the color that sailors feared—that mixed shade of black, blue, and grey.
"You know, you're not much of a threat when you're confined in here like the cockroach that you are." Kakashi wondered what sort of tantrum he would throw next—no bowls of rice to throw; no clay mug to shatter; no chopsticks. Perhaps a verbal one? Sasuke dared not use his sharingan, but never mind that—Sasuke was full of wit, wasn't he? "If you really want to know, I said that you've never liked them per se but you've always loved them. Haven't you?"
"That," he seethed, his words filled with an uncontrollable rage and laced with wicked venom, "is none of your damn business, Kakashi."
"You're my student," Kakashi answered, "and so it is my damn business. You're only fifteen, Sasuke. I am thirty—fifteen years your senior. Trust me."
"Why should I?"
He took off the beret Sakura gave him, then—the unconscious embarrassment frightened him. What was wrong with this boy in front of him? He gently grasped one of Sasuke's pale, rough hands (the boy flinched at his sudden touch) and placed his beret (it was black because Sakura didn't know what color he liked the best—blue and green) into it and turned around.
The four Royal Guards were no more and Kakashi did not like the look of it.
"Listen to me, Sasuke," he whispered huskily, his breath scraping across Sasuke's neck. The boy shivered in spite of himself but looked as calm as ever. "You have told me that you have never felt alive—"
"No, I've told you that I've always felt dead—"
"It's the same thing, isn't it?" Kakashi's hands were at Sasuke's neck now, ghosting over it. "So, set the rules."
"… Rules," the boy repeated after some difficulty breathing. He started to lean back against the cold stone walls, his former teacher on top of him, slowing pulling down his mask—down the crooked arch of his nose, down his rose-lips, down his chin—and his tongue wetting his lips. He looked chiseled—ruggedly beautiful like a weed against wildflowers—roguish and pale from those years of wearing his mask. The hitai-ate was gone soon after. The Guards were gone.
Why were they gone? Why were they always gone?
(Was that a flush settling on his former student's face? No. No, no—it can't be, right? Maybe the dimly-lit room—candles, for God's sake, candle—was playing tricks on his eyes. His sharingan—Sasuke reminded him of Obito in some random, twisted way.)
"Where do you want me," he explained sensually, playing with Sasuke's hair thick black hair, "to touch you?"
Maybe the boy's breathing quickened (a lot); maybe his beautiful stormy-April eyes darkened (turning them a shade next to black); maybe he flushed to the point of Sakura's hair—whatever; this was not the Sasuke Kakashi thought he had known. When had he turned into—into an acolyte of his former teacher? Kakashi was not God. Kakashi was not even close to God, so who did this boy think he was?
A nasty thought ran through his mind—Maybe he thinks of you as a replacement.
Perhaps.
When Sasuke did not answer, Kakashi frowned slightly—a more of a he-pressed-his-lips-together—and fingered the ends of Sasuke's shirt. The flush ran deeper and Kakashi could've laughed at the sight of the boy—first he was so uptight and now he looked like he was about ready to beg for it—but he didn't. He wasn't that drunk off of his student's face—he wasn't that shallow.
"Fifteen is too young for this, Sasuke," he teased cruelly—what was wrong with him today? "Don't you think so?" The said-boy half shook his head, half agreed with him. They were both out of sync, it seemed. Fifteen was such an alluring age. Sasuke had such an alluring look—Kakashi wanted to say, "Pout for me, baby," but that would've been so out of character. Would he have an alluring body when he took off his shirt? Would he have an alluring voice when he screamed his teacher's name out?
"So where do you want me to touch you?"
A moan accidentally slipped out of Sasuke's mouth.
"You know," continued Kakashi, slightly laughing as he unbuttoned his student's shirt in a painfully slow manner, "I don't think that we should be doing this. Do you?" A choked groan and Kakashi would've been on the floor, laughing if it weren't for his excellent self-control—just a touch here, some dirty words here and Sasuke was still that innocent twelve-year-old boy who packed up all of his ghosts and brought them to Orochimaru.
"Arms."
"What?"
"Raise them," he replied, adding a bored tone and he successfully pulled Sasuke's shirt off, tracing the area above his heart, but the boy underneath him automatically seized Kakashi's wandering hand and winced.
"I don't… have a heart."
"That's what you think, Sasuke."
The dark-eyed boy blinked and a dazed, "What?" fell out of his mouth.
Kakashi fingered the hem of his own shirt and pulled it off, the frail piece of fabric falling onto the ground. "I'll give you mine."
"What?"
"Is that the only thing you say when you're flustered, Sasuke? You're starting to sound like a broken record." He noticed that he had sounded nonchalant when he spoke to his student; he pulled it off, too. "Rules, Sasuke. Set the rules." The boy was withering underneath him and Kakashi had yet to do something to him. Virgin boys were fun to take. Kakashi gently pried his fingers away from Sasuke's death grip.
"No…—"
"Kissing," interrupted the older man.
"Kissing," the younger boy agreed half-heartedly.
"Screaming," Kakashi added huskily.
"Screaming."
"And you, my dear boy," continued Kakashi, "maybe not touch me."
"Touch you?" he echoed like a lost little child. "Touch you, as in—"
"No, you just can't touch me period," said Kakashi sarcastically. "Silly. Like my ber—speaking of berets, what did you do you my beret? Throw it on the floor somewhere?" Sasuke nodded, slightly clenching his jaw and the man sighed. "Ah, well—never liked that one, so it's no loss—"
He stopped talking about his ruined hat when he felt Sasuke's hands on his own.
"Touch me here," he whispered hoarsely as he led Kakashi's hand with his own to his face; "here—" (his chest) "—and here—" (his thighs.) "Touch me until I go crazy."
"That," Kakashi whispered back, "I can do."
It's okay to leave wounds, he recalled Naruto saying to Sakura, because that's what's going to connect us to each other; he had meant Sasuke—how he was always running, how he was always throwing things away, how he was always leaving someone behind.
"… Tell me that I'm useless."
"You're—" began Kakashi before stopped in mid-sentence. "What the hell was that, Sasuke?"
"Tell that I'm useless. I am, aren't I?"
(A silent streak was not healthy for Sasuke but a talking streak was even worse.)
"You're useless." What was he saying to his former student—half-naked and his personality gone?
"Say that to me again," he pleaded.
"No," said Kakashi flatly and let go of his student's hands, pushing himself off of him.
"Kakashi."
"You know that that's not going to work on me."
And suddenly—by stroke of luck or whatever—Sasuke was back to normal (as close as normal as he could get) and said in a faux cold tone that you could tell was wavering, "Then you'll leave me." His voice sounded funny, even to himself. His throat hurt. His eyes stung—why was he crying, dammit? What could go so possibly wrong that it could lead to Uchiha Sasuke crying? Crying was for idiots with real emotions, not just lust and… and whatever he was feeling.
"Yeah. I'll leave you," said Kakashi coolly—what was this anger inside of him? He felt like childish—like Naruto. "I'm going to leave you here to rot and leave the 'saving you' part to Naruto and Sakura instead, alright?" This conversation (or whatever it was—an exchanging of childish words) was childish.
Where were the guards again?
And he saw his former student reach down onto the ground and pull his beret up, soaked with fragrant tea and speckled with dirt from the floor.
"Here's your silly hat back," Sasuke explained snappishly. Kakashi nodded curtly and snatched it back.
"Here's your silly shirt back." He nodded again.
"And… —"
"Is there something else you want to give me or may I leave now?"
"Here's your stupid heart back—I don't want it anymore." The boy held out his hand anyways, even though there was nothing in it—behaved exactly like a child, sounded just like a child. Maybe this place really did suck the souls out of people who strayed far too far from their own paths and had trampled onto others, knocking them into the ground. He turned away from his former student—nothing hurt more than watching him.
"Sasuke?"
"What?"
It took him a while to answer without sounding like a complete idiot.
"I'm going to leave you know."
"I know that."
"Goodbye." His own voice sounded hauntingly chilly to even himself as he watched the Royal Guards suddenly appear and, opening the gates with a dragged-out metallic creak and closing them with a lingering, echoing bang. He would have to do something about his mask. And his clothes. And his beret.
And walking out of there, he wondered if he had done the right thing, leaving that alluring face, leaving that alluring age, leaving Sasuke for the future.
"So, did Kakashi-sensei do anything to you?"
"Do anything, Sakura? Wherever did you get that idea from?"
"Nowhere! It's just that… you seem a little distant."
"Distant?"
"Yeah… sorry—Naruto's better than me at this."
"…Sakura?"
"Yeah?"
"I think you should go now. It's getting late."
"Oh. Oh, okay, then. Goodbye, then."
"Sakura?"
"Mm?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Yeah."
"…You know what, Sasuke-kun?"
"What?"
"I think I'm glad that I finally got to answer you."