A/N: I posted this to my tumblr and forgot to share it here. Part one in a series of role switching ficlets. This is the teacher/student wherein the student saves the teacher instead AU that no one asked for.

Stars. Everywhere. Even beyond the glimmer of the city lights above him – all he could see was the ocean of stars. The wind had pushed around his whole body, like he was flying hell, wasn't that why I got it in the first place, until he slowed his prized Kawasaki – finally – and followed the bend of the road. His heart was pounding, adrenaline lacing his veins, and it was all because of her. Her arm was tight no, secure, around his waist.

Her voice rose over the growl of his motorbike. "Turn left at the next street."

And it was odd how mature she sounded to his ears. He gave a faint nod before following her directions. The garage door of the house at the middle of the cul de sac opened as he pulled into the driveway she pointed to him. They could finally stop!

The garage was closing before he could even turn the engine off. She swiftly removed herself from the bike, suggesting he follow her as she made way to the door. He ripped the helmet from his head, sending his cinereal locks askew. Of course he would follow her; he didn't really have a choice.

"Why did-" he began, but the words escaped him. "What just -"

She kicked the door close behind him and rested her hands over his shoulders as she pulled him toward a chair and guided him to sit. "I know you have questions, but while you soak it all in, I need to take a look at your wound."

My... He glanced down, alarmed at the crimson staining his shirt (his favorite one at that). That's right...

His head swam. It all felt suddenly so surreal.

It had started out as any other typical day: waking at precisely 4:30 am for his run, then a warm shower and a bottle of water with whatever fruit was in season (currently apples, and Honeycrisp were his favorite). And then, he hadn't meant to, but he still arrived at University half an hour late to first class.

And each class that followed was a variation of the last. And by the third one he had settled comfortably into the routine, and was actually looking forward to lunch. His friend Asuma had brought in a meal, homemade at that, by his wife Kurenai and he was certain he could persuade him into sharing a bite or two, or four.

His life had been so ordinary and simple up until that point. He was just Hatake Kakashi, an ordinary teacher after all.

Or, he supposed, at least he had been up until today. He doubted he could go back to the University after what happened. He didn't think he wanted to return. Not after his colleague barged into his class and tried to remove his head from the rest of him. With a knife. He managed to evade his full blow, but the blade still landed a passing glance his side. And that was when she got involved.

She had hurdled over her desk, running toward him as other students scurried away in horror. And one moment Hayate-san was raising his weapon and the next he was sent flying back into the whiteboard before crumpling to the floor. She turned to regard him and her emerald eyes had been so full of light, of a ferocity he hadn't seen in a person since... god, how long ago was that?

Her gaze tore from his as she looked out the window. For a moment her expression had changed, and she sputtered a curse as she offered her hand to him.

"We kind of need to hurry," she'd said, and he wasn't sure why he had taken her hand. But he did. She was a lot stronger than she'd looked, and had no difficulty helping him to his feet. He snatched up his pack before bolting out the door. He hadn't ever run through the University campus before, but he did this time.

A random voice called out to him. "Hatake-san?"

But the girl (what was her name again?) kept pushing him, urging him to pick up the pace. As they turned through the hall, he was jerked back by his bag and his student (Undercover agent? Assassin? His vivid imagination ran wild with thoughts) darted in front of him, catching the incoming knife.

"Get to the parking lot!" she had barked at him.

But he couldn't move; he felt heavy and his feet weren't obeying his orders no matter how much he told himself to run. She traded blows with the mysterious young man, before knocking his feet from under him and sheathing the knife into his chest.

There was blood on her cheek when she turned to him, and though she had just killed someone right in front of his very eyes, he found that he wasn't afraid of her. She mumbled about him being an idiot just standing there, and grabbed his hand again before pulling him along.

The double doors to the university banged open as they burst through them. There were a trio of men waiting there, and he had been surprised when this petite woman stepped in front of him like a shield. The man heading the trio smirked and twirled the baton in his hand before charging at them and swinging. He had squeezed his eyes shut, but nothing ever came. There was the sound of a scuffle and when he cracked open his eyes, he found the girl swinging under the railing, he feet taking out one of the attacker's knees. The other two were motionless on the ground. When did she...?

She grabbed his arm and they were off again. Rushing down the steps that followed, he nearly tripped and fell over the last few, but her grip was strong on his arm and she steadied him. "Come on, to your bike!"

He didn't ask how she knew what he rode to school, or where he was parked as she lead the way once again. He didn't ask what was going on, why someone he thought was a friend tried to kill him, or who those men were, or just where the hell are we going? He just understood that getting away was what was important and questions could come later. And did he have questions...

God, he sounded like such a moron trying to get those questions out, too.

She pulled out the adjacent chair and sat, a medical kit in her hands. Her rosette locks were pulled back into a ponytail as her eyes set on him, all business. How many times had he seen her walk into his room before? She had always liked chatting with the girls before class began. But she had always been studious once in session. Her grades had been top notch, and she had seemed so... normal. Besides her hair color, and her intelligence, not much stood out about her. Come on, remember her name. He thought he had her pegged, but he had been so wrong.

He flinched when she went for the buttons on his shirt, and she held up her hands as she sat back. "Oh come on. I've seen plenty of male bodies!" His brow arched at her remark, and then he could've sworn he saw her gaze narrow in offense. "I'm a medic. It's what I do," she elaborated.

"I thought you were an arts major," he huffed with an exasperated laugh.

"Well..." Her lips quirked a little. "If it's worth anything, I did enjoy your class, Kakashi-sensei."

"All things considered, you could probably drop the sensei," he remarked and then winced as a tremor of burning pain danced over his side. Simply reacting, he jerked away from her outreaching hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she assured him. "But you've got to let me take a look at you before you risk infection."

He knew she wasn't out to hurt him; she'd saved his life after all. He was just... unsure of her motives and he'd always been a cautious person – at least when it came to other people. Trust was something hard earned, and here he was now, thrust into a situation where all he could do was trust this girl. It made him uneasy. But she had a point, and perhaps she had already earned it after today, and so he began to unbutton his shirt.

Kakashi didn't bother to look as he peeled the clothing away; instead, he focused on a patch of flyaway hair by her ear as she bent down to work on cleaning and treating him. A sense of sadness came over him then as gauze patted over his skin. "Hayate... really meant to kill me. And I have no idea why. Do you?"

It was only briefly, but she paused. "Not really," she supplied as she got back to work.

His gaze didn't leave her hair. "You wouldn't tell me even if you did know, would you?"

Her reply was simple. "I have my orders."

He was beginning to feel quite frantic and his gaze slipped away from her and to the refrigerator quietly humming. What the hell was going on in his life? But he didn't let his voice didn't give his frustration away. "From who?"

"You'll find out soon enough. We're not staying here longer than we have to so..." She sat back and he glanced at the small pile of bloody gauze. She retrieved some antiseptic from the kit and then turned her eyes to meet his. She looked genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry that we don't have much time to talk. But I promise you, you'll get all of your answers."

He took in a deep breath and nodded. It was quiet as she bandaged him, her touch clinical and well-practiced. And he had no doubt that she had done this a time or two before, and he accepted then that she wasn't just a student. He slid his eyes to her; she was so focused on her task, her brow lightly creased. And it hit him then, her name.

Just as he went to speak she got up from the chair and began to clean up. "I should have a shirt that you can wear. It may be a little small, but it'll be better than what you have now."

"Thank you... Sakura."

She smiled, it was soft even in its briefness, and she nodded before walking through the open doorway. She emerged a moment later and tossed him a balled up shirt. With a last farewell look at his most comfortable dress shirt, he shrugged it from his other shoulder and let it lay across the chair, and then slipped into the one she provided.

Sakura picked up his torn button-down and tossed it in the trashcan. "So, Kakashi, before we go I need to ask you something."

And for some reason – her tone of voice, or her expression or body manners – her question made him wary. "What's that?"

"Do you know how to use a gun?"