Retail Therapy. I've heard it works wonders on the mind, body and spirit. And right now I could use all three.

I stood in the middle of the department store, hands filled with bags of clothes I'll probably never wear. The store held the oh-so inviting scent of new clothing; I love that smell.

It's so addicting.

Too much so.

The clinking of hangers against the metal of the clothing wracks was music to my ears. It was another addicting aspect of shopping I loved. Some very sultry music played in the background adding to the very nostalgic feel of my favorite store.

The floors were a polished wood, the walls a deep claret color. The uniforms of the employees were very industrial unlike the rest of the store: black bottoms and white tops. Women wore skirts and men wore pants. Women wore their hair back. Men guzzled theirs' with WAY too much moose. I pity their girlfriends when they want to have a special night, wanting to run their slender fingers through their lover's locks but can't because of the gel they piled on their scalp. I silently chuckled at the thought as I stood there, my expert eyes scanning the wracks for anything eye catching.

Bingo.

I spotted a pink, extra long tank. It'll be perfect with a pair of jeans I bought earlier at the thrift store right across the street from my apartment complex.

Expertly weaving through the narrow walkways that divided the different clothing sections, I made it to the blouse. At closer inspection I saw that it had black threading that mingled with the deep pink. It was trimmed in lace, and seemed to be made out of some expensive silk like material. I instantly fell in love with it. I snatched a size small, and then headed towards the purse section.

Some woman looked over her shoulder at me while I passed her. As I did so, my keen sense of smell picked up the smell of cheap perfume. I smirked. I could almost feel her trying to hard to look like she had something to prove to most of the women in these stores.

Feeling her gaze linger at my back, then to the overflowing bags in my hands, I turned, giving her the brightest smile, which was certainly forced, I could muster. She smiled back, flipped her graying hair, which was so obviously dyed, over her shoulder, walking on. I rolled my eyes, turned my head back, walking the opposite way.

Ten minutes later, I was at the register with my tank, a black over-size purse, and a pair of some brand name glasses that had caught my eye.



All together the total was a whopping one thousand two hundred fifty-seven dollars and fifty cents. I whipped out my debit card. The cashier was blue eyed black haired girl of whom I recognized from my old academy days. Her sensei failed her from the chuunin exams, and I hadn't heard from her for the whole nine years since I graduated.

I couldn't quite place her name, but I was shocked when she gave me a bright grin, while eyeing me, and said, "Haruno Sakura? It's been a while."

"Hey there…" I trailed off. I felt bad that she placed me with my name so easily, and I could not put her face with any sort of name. Though, I'm not that easy forget since I do have hair the color of bubble gum and eyes the color of the purest jade. But I still felt bad, nonetheless. Seeming to read my thoughts, she answered my unasked question.

"Rui," She said brightly. I gave her a nod as she handed me back my card.

"I'll see you around, Rui," I chirped as I gathered the new bags in my hands, stuffing my now useless debit card in my pocket. Well, I blew all the spare money I got from my last mission. Tsunade will get a kick out of this. I didn't need the few thousand dollars I got after I returned from the Snow Country. I didn't want it to rot away in my bank account, so I decided to have a simple shopping spree. Although, I have a feeling more than two-thirds of this stuff will go into my closet, forgotten. I almost felt bad for wasting money like that.

Almost.

As I walked through the department store's doors, I felt the cold sting of the outside world. It was in the middle of winter after all. It hadn't snowed yet, but it still gave any ninja a run for her money when she went from suddenly being all warm and toasty to desperately cold in less than ten seconds.

I'm hardcore.

I can handle it.

After all, I am a ninja.

I hate that word – ninja. A fool's game…

But it's so cold. I mean it's like shiver- with -goose -bumps -all -the -while -your -teeth -are –clicking- against -each -other -so -loudly -that -passersby -even -look -your -way cold.

It's horrible. I hate it very much so.

I brace myself, noticing that I can see my breath in the air. When I was little, that whole seeing your breath in the air thing, used to fascinate me. I used to pretend I was sitting in a sheik café with dim lights, holding a cigarette between my forefingers, gazing at the many men who groveled at my round toed high heels. I imagined other men littering me with red roses and wine, while cooing sweet-nothings in my ears. All the while my attire was a simple ruffled white button-up and a sleek pencil skirt. Even my forehead looked normal, and I had a rounded chest, long cat-like legs, and a very slim waist. I was the definition of beauty in my little fantasy.

When I was twelve I had the same fantasy, except Uchiha Sasuke was the star man. He would take my hand and kiss it while holding out a red rose, telling me how much I mean to him and how he wanted to make me his. I would feel a slight flush come to my face and smile demurely, while gazing into his seductive gaze.

A school-girl fantasy. That's all but shattered now. I haven't seen Sasuke since he made way back to destroy the Konohagakure after he killed his brother Itachi Uchiha, the 'murderer' of the Uchiha Clan. Sasuke was hell-bent on destroying the Village Hidden in the Leaves to avenge the meaningless death of his clan and... his dear, dear brother.

But those are times that I try to forget. I have finally reached the level of Jounin, and now I'm moving on with my life, putting the Team 7 days and the patriotism I had for this village behind me.

I even put my dear friendship Hatake Kakashi in the back of my mind.

He promised he wouldn't leave me alone, but he did. It's not really his fault. It's this village's fault that he's not here carrying my shopping bags for me. He's been gone for two years now. The village presumed him dead last year. I don't think he is at all. But no one would listen to my pleas that he was. As a result, his memorial service of death was held six months ago after numerous search teams came back to the Hokage with no news of seeing him. Only his closest friends knew about the service that gloomy day. I was there in the first row, standing solemnly, my hair pulled back, strands escaping the makeshift confinement only to frame my sullen face. I was dressed the black attire that was customary for any... funeral. I cried silently as they chiseled his name into the polished stone of the memorial, while the Hokage went through his list of achievements the whole time. Kakashi was the Copy-Nin, a legend, which saved this village time and time again. But what's the point in risking your life for a village that doesn't value the lives of its own people.

I've realized that I have become a very vain person. The only reason why I do missions is to find Kakashi. They are the only way I can go to the Snow Country, which was where he was last spotted.

Naruto stood there at my side, gripping my hand long after the service was over. The blonde mop on his head drooped over his eyes and hung in messy, uneven tendrils around his neck. I saw stubble on his face when he came to me for the consolation of a breathtaking hug.

It was the first time Naruto held me with desperation. The normally immature loud mouth that I knew was replaced by a man who lost yet another father figure in his life. I felt the hole in his heart deepen. He was lost to the naïve world he once lived in, as was I. We've seen things that many people our age couldn't even begin to fathom.

"Why am I thinking about all this? " I muttered to myself as I made way up the stairs to my apartment. When I stood at my door, I clumsily fumbled with my keys, trying to find the right one. I successfully unlocked the door, kicking it open, walking into my dark, lair. It was warmer in here, but not much. The landlord was stingy with the heat. I dropped my bags on the couch and opened the blinds to let in the evening winter sunlight. Shrugging off my coat, I made way to the kitchen; as I felt the need of hunger suddenly rush upon me.

My apartment was nothing special. My couch was a rich brown leather that had a blanket I crocheted draped neatly over it. I had an arm chair that was over stuffed of the same color facing that window that had a mustard color decoration pillow laid carelessly on it. In the middle of the living room was a small coffee table with my medical books sprawled out on top along with a clear glass vase with a fake lily in it. There was an oak bookshelf that held pictures of my family… Team 7… Kakashi's old team… Ino and me, the graduating Academy students….

And one of Kakashi and I.

The bottom shelf held all of Kakashi's beloved volumes of the Icha Icha Paradise books he always had his nosed buried in. I kept them when they emptied his apartment. I'm sure when the time came that he would return to the village; the first thing he would ask for would be his precious Make-out Paradise novels.

My room and the bathroom were bare with white walls and nothing really decorating them. I had no idea where I would put all these clothes. I stuffed the bags into my already cramped closet. It was overflowing with clothes and not even all of them were mine. I kept a few of Kakashi's, just so he would have them…

I hope he gets here soon…

I miss him…

His companionship was something I never wanted to loose.

I hate myself. I thought I locked that point of my life away in my mind…

I never had.

I think about him every day.

Maybe I just try to ease the pain by trying to forget about him, by telling myself that he'll be here tomorrow.

Maybe that's why I wait at the memorial stone gazing at his name, waiting for him to come tap me on the shoulder. Then I would turn around and see a very ragged Kakashi smiling with his eye crinkle that I used to hate when I was a child but soon grew to adore. He would wrap his strong arms around me and whisper in my strawberry hair, "I'm home." And I would clutch to him, while crying the happiest tears that I ever would in my life. He would rub soothing circles on my back with a hand that was incased in a withered old glove. Then we would go on as if nothing had ever changed.

Oh how I wish that would happen.



But maybe it's another childish dream.

I found myself lying on my bed clutching to the pastel comforter. I want you here…

With me…

Sleep took me away.

And I woke up in a tangled mess of sheets, looking up at the white ceiling trying to make out shapes with the shadows that the morning sun made here and there. One of them looked like Kakashi.

At that thought I dragged my groggy self to the bathroom, striping myself of my clothes, making my way to the shower.

I turned it on with a scolding hot temperature and scrubbed myself viciously, making sure I was tidy for the long day that the hospital would bring me.

Oh yes, I may have not mentioned that I'm also a very established medic-nin here in Konoha. I easily surpassed my master that is none other that the Hokage herself, Tsunade, at the tender age of fifteen. With my superior chakra control and immense passion to heal the injured I was sure to eventually surpass her at some point. Thus, that is the life of one who passes along their skills. The master always secretly hopes that their student will become stronger than they are, so that they know that they have accomplished something. Someday, I hope I can do the same.

Tsunade came to me one day after training, smiling. In a very uncharacteristically way she patted me on the back and said, "I'm very proud of you, Sakura."

I noticed the tinge of sadness in her voice. She told me she had noting left to teach me and that her job was done. Then she snickered a bit adding "It's about time."

That was more like it.

Since then I noticed her drinking more and staying out at bars constantly. She has gotten lonely in her old age. Shizune is not her assistant anymore. She moved on, got married, and started building her own family over in the Sand Country. She occasionally visits Tsunade and is always disappointed at the state she finds her former idol that is always hunched over a toilet with me holding back her golden locks.

She's going to drink herself to death.

Tsunade... She cannot go on the way she is for much longer.

She's been worse after we heard the news of the death of her silent lover Jiraiya, who was a legend in his own right. He trained Naruto in the boy's young ninja career and encouraged him to go on with the goals and plans. It was heartbreaking to see Naruto and the dreariness he exuded when he heard of his master's death.

What happened to the times when things were much simpler?



I know the answer to that.

They went six feet under when I became a ninja.

-

I found my way to the polished stone reading at the many names that grazed its polished surface. All the ninja are KIA – Killed in Action. They are 'revered' as the greatest heroes of the village, as they gave their lives to protect it. I see every life a meaningless waste. They were all brainwashed into believing that their beloved Konoha had always been honest with them. All Konoha is, is just a village of lies. It is a village that commits a silent treason behind its 'valued' shinobis' backs. It's a village with a very jaded past that not even I can comprehend.

Kakashi is missing because he was just doing his 'duty'. They filled his head with frivolous ideas, wanting his skills us just for their own gain.

I clenched my fist.

IF…Kakashi is not in this world any more he just died in vain. He died for this worthless village.

I bit my bottom lip until it bled. Tears stung in my eyes. Just as they did so, rain began to poor around me.

Then…

There was a tap on my shoulder.

I turned…stunned at the sight before me.