Mwahahahaha!!! I'm am writing again! ^^ This is my first real KakaSaku... I say that because the first actual one was only a sentence of two and complete amateur... so, I don't count it. But, anyway... this was written for the 30Kisses community of LJ. My new home. I hope you like!

Special thanks to my betas! Misaki Ami & SecretBox! I love you!

Kuchinashi

by Ereluna

30Kisses #11 Gardenia

It was spring; the day I met him.

He was standing in front of a florist' shop, casually leaning against the window next to a cart full of gardenias. A dark scarf covered his features from his nose down, which was strange, considering it was May. His hair was silver, yet he looked considerably younger than anyone else I'd met with that hair color. He held a book in one hand, his eyes trained on it, his other hand absently touching petals of the fragrant flowers.

With a small laugh, I realized this man was one of the strange ones, a mystery waiting to be solved. But, with a glance at his hidden features, I knew… he wouldn't want to be figured out.

And, I was getting ahead of myself, again.

I was sitting on a bench, across the street, just watching the people stroll by, their voices carrying words that never reached, footstep coming and going in staccato beats that never ceased.

And there he was, standing out amongst the monotony. A startling crimson against shades of grey.

But, as suddenly as I noticed him, he stood to his full height, and walked away, a lone gardenia resting between his fingertips. My eyes followed his feet until he disappeared into a crowd gathered at a crosswalk.

I found myself wishing he hadn't left.

Lowering my gaze, I watched a young woman water the flowers in the window, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder in a smooth cascade, a content smile on her face. I felt my lips lift into a smile as she lightly danced on heels before turning and walking away.

Watching people was one of my favorite hobbies. I loved to sit and watch children play, watch lovers walk, their hands intertwined, and the old men play chess in the park. They were all images I'd seen a million times before, but every time looked so much different than the last.

It was so much better to watch people live, than to watch them die.

I was a nurse. I worked in the city hospital, where men came in with stab wounds, where women hid with fist-shaped bruises, where children coughed and gasped, their bodies fighting against unknown diseases and infections.

I never knew the any person that came through those front doors, but they always became precious to me.

I've seen so many people die. Every time, it broke me.

After every shift, I would come to this bench. To watch the sunset, to watch life go on, even if a few seats were empty in the ride.

I came to be fixed, cleansed of the blood that stained me. The blood of every life I couldn't save.

I remember sitting there, on that same bench, that same day… that same moment when I felt a presence next to me. Glancing over, I was surprised. There he was, the man I had been watching earlier. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed him cross the street.

He sat down, his book still held before his face, yet, he turned, and met my widened eyes. He lowered the scarf covering the lower half of his face. He was handsome, in an average way that set butterflies fluttering around in my chest.

His eyes were two different colors, one charcoal gray, the other a deep brown that appeared almost red. His nose looked to have been broken once, and a slight scar ran down his left eye, just shy of touching his upper lip.

I felt my face heat when his eyebrow rose questioningly, having caught me staring at him blatantly. I drew my gaze away quickly, absently watching the blonde in the florist' shop bundle a handful of roses into a bouquet, while trying to keep from the man sitting next to me.

And yet, from the corner of my eye, I saw him gently tuck the gardenia he still held into the front pocket of his leather jacket. Then he smiled.

My heart jumped into my throat.

I was unprepared for his introduction, as his free hand reached for mine in a firm shake. I was unprepared for his voice; resonant, smooth, and captivating, telling me his name, and asking me mine.

His name was Kakashi.

It took me a moment to remember my name. I stuttered for a full three seconds before I managed to tell him my name was Sakura.

When I've introduced myself to people, there has always been the moment of regret, the feeling of knowing an overused joke is coming my way, and I have to be polite, and laugh like it's the funniest thing I've ever heard. And all of it was because of my hair, a unique shade of strawberry blonde that's actually pink.

He simply told me that it fit, as his eyes glanced briefly at my hair, no doubt messed up from the neat ponytail I'd had it in before I went to work. There was no joke, just a genuine smile.

Reaching forward, he brushed a stray strand from my face, tucking it neatly behind my ear. His hand lingered momentarily on my cheek, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against my skin. I was positive my face was glowing scarlet.

I believe he recognized my flustered expression for what it was, chuckling quietly while snapping his book shut. He asked me what I was doing sitting alone on a bench at sunset, if perhaps there was someone I was waiting for.

Two months ago, I would've told him yes, there was someone I was waiting for. But, he always left me there, waiting alone on a rusted bench, for him to return from wherever he wandered. He was always searching for something… and I knew he hadn't found it in me.

But, today there was no one for me to wait for… and I told him so.

He nodded, turning his attention back to his book –a popular book by the name of Icha Icha-, seemingly content with sitting there with me for the rest of the day.

We both sat there until the sunset illuminated the cloudless sky in tones of gold, red, and the slightest tinge of violet blue. I glanced over at the quiet man beside me, noting the way his hair appeared gold in the light of the setting sun.

He looked up at me then, his lips curving into a small smile. He told me then that he had to leave, pulled himself to his feet, and shoving his book into his back pocket, he came to stand before me.

Without another word, he pulled the gardenia from his pocket, placing it behind my ear with the flower's petals lightly kissing my temples. I stared up at him, only able to smile happily.

"I'll see you around." He told me softly, and then he walked away, his hands pushed into his pants pockets. The remaining sunlight followed his fading footsteps until he disappeared from view, I noticed.

Standing up, I absently held the delicate flower perched on my ear, and walked away from the rusted bench, headed home.

~end