Disclaimer: Keigai is a spur-of-the-moment creation. No one and nothing else belongs to me.
Warnings: Character death, angst, etc.
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The kunoichi drawled out a lazy sigh, stretching across the empty bed. The ticking hands on the clock told her it was far too late to be awake, especially for a weeknight. No matter how many hours of sleep she lacked, the dawn would greet her with a class full of rowdy, wanna-be ninjas- and with the academy students would undoubtedly come all their chaos, pranks, and drama. (She was beginning to rethink her assumption that only her ninja class had been filled with tragedy and unrequited love; yesterday alone, she had been stalked by at least a dozen girls all pleading for advice on romance.)
The woman sat up slowly, rubbing her tired eyes. She let a yawn widen her mouth, breathing out heavily in the silence of her house. It's always so quiet when he's on missions, she thought, glancing back to her husband's pillow. Even when he slept, there was that certain amount of presence, of life, that he brought to their home.
Swinging her feet around the edge of the bed, the sensei slid her feet into the soft, fuzzy pair of slippers – a gift from her husband, of course. With a soft smile, she tottered stiffly out of the bedroom. Moving through the hallway to the next room, she found her work desk with uncanny easiness, even in the twilight of early morning. She clicked on the lamp, illuminating the piles of paperwork occupying the desk- essays, quizzes, notes, lessons… sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if it might be easier to skip a month or two of training kids and go on a real ninja mission for once.
Her musing was interrupted by the muffled clunk of the door opening, along with a few shuffled steps. She leapt up from the desk immediately, face brightening with a smile; that could only be him, returning home from the latest mission. This assignment, like almost all ANBU assignments, had been sudden and secretive, giving the man almost no time to warn her before he left.
She hurried into the hallway, catching her lover by surprise as she threw her arms around his neck in greeting.
"You're home early- I thought you said this mission might take another week!" she crooned happily, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. He half-heartedly returned the embrace in silence, patting her back with one hand before pulling away.
"Is…something wrong?" she asked. "Did the mission-"
"Accomplished," he answered flatly. He moved away, slowly, sinking into the chair she had recently vacated. "If we had failed…I wouldn't be here."
The woman nodded, slowly, knowing this to be the truth. ANBU missions were never safe, but…the way he was speaking, something must have happened. Even after difficult missions, he could usually muster at least a smile for her.
"Do you want to tell me about it? Or is it still too confidential to discuss?" she asked quietly.
Those assignments to which the most secrecy applied were the most torturous, for both of them. She could understand the confidentiality before the mission happened, but when he couldn't tell her the details even after it was finished, she felt helpless.
"It's…not confidential…" he said, struggling tone implying that he might wish it was. "But…I don't know if-"
"You don't have to tell me," she said quickly. "If you don't want to, it's fine!"
She smiled cheerfully, effortlessly, with the same brightness that had caught his eye (and heart) years ago. Nodding to herself, she added, "You look exhausted, though. Do you want tea or anything? I think I have some leftovers from dinner…or maybe just a bit of rice?"
She drifted out of the room, towards the kitchen, wide awake and nearly sparkling with energy even at the three in the morning. He watched her, not wanting to break the beauty of her endless cheer. He had to tell her, though…the whole village would probably know the next morning.
Halfway through the doorway, he finally spoke- just two sudden, rough words that halted her in midstep.
"He's dead."
She turned back quickly, eyes wide. The first question that leapt into her thoughts – who?! – caught in her throat, constricted for fear of the answer; her second question – how? – fell away from her lips as unimportant, useless; the third squeezed out almost too quietly for the ninja to hear.
"What?"
She bit down hard on her lip, trying to chase away the threads of panic tightening around her heart.
"We were sent on a simple assassination mission. Simple- find and eliminate," his gaze drifted to the floor, away from her anxious eyes. "I thought it might take longer- I told you so, because the search should have taken weeks. But…"
He looked up slowly, the shadows falling over him and deepening his black eyes. "But the target found us first."
"A-and…?" she leaned back into the wall, fingers digging tiny holes. That look…it has to be someone I- we- know…some we both care for… She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest felt too heavy to allow it, and her heart smacked against her ribs too wildly. "Is…was it…Neji?"
The ANBU shook his head, just once, drawing a shaky sigh of relief from the woman.
"A missing-nin," he said shortly. "That was the target. A missing-nin…a traitor to his village. He had left alone until now…but when reports of destruction and murder started, we had to hunt him down. Hokage-sama…she thought that maybe he had gone insane…after all these years…"
The woman's eyes narrowed in confusion. She drew closer, taking short, careful steps toward the grieving man.
"So, this missing-nin attacked…and then…" she led him on anxiously. A rock-hard lump of dread had settled to the bottom of her stomach and every moment spent waiting only made it grow.
"And then we fought. You should have seen it…should have seen him…it was amazing. All four of us against just one person- one man- and for hours we could only parry him, just match him, move for move for move…" a ghost of a smile spread on his face. Now, as he looked up at her, the faint lamplight glinted in his onyx eyes, making them glow with something that seemed like pride. Pride, honor, and the same battle lust that claimed him every time he spoke of fighting in his personal mission reports.
"Amazing," he repeated. For the second time that night, she wondered if it wouldn't be so terrible to accompany him at least once on a mission.
She settled herself onto the corner of the desk, leaning in close to him. Silence stretched on for a long minute and she finally put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to pull him out of the memory and back to her nervous eyes.
"Keep going…please," she said softly. "What about Shikamaru- is he alright?"
The strategy specialist usually didn't attend missions, so she had reason to worry. This time, though, the squad had needed another member on short notice. Their other ninja had been called by the Kazekage to Wind Country a month ago and had not yet returned. (Naruto once jokingly admitted that he could nearly be considered an honorary Sand-nin, as he spent nearly a third of his time in that village rather than at home.)
"He's fine," he answered. "It was shadow jutsu that finally caught him, actually. Held him just long enough for Keigai to… made him hesitate just enough so that Keigai could… kill him."
He closed his eyes, jaw tight, taking a slow, deep breath for control.
"Then if Keigai managed to kill the target, he's alive as well…right? And if Neji and Shikamaru- and you- are all alive, then…" she fell into silence, confusion drawing her lips into a tight frown. "He's dead- Lee, who is he?"
"Haven't you been listening?" the man said tiredly, opening his black eyes to gaze at her in desperation.
"Of course! But I don't see wh-"
"Our mission – the mission- was to find and eliminate the missing-nin…Uchiha Sasuke. And I told you- we didn't fail."
Everything came together in one split second, the entire situation snapping into place like a simple, childish puzzle. Hokage-sama thought he had gone insane…you should have seen him- so amazing…after all those years…a missing-nin, a traitor to his village…Uchiha Sasuke.
"Sakura-chan…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His wide black eyes were filled with regret, sorrow, and irony, with the bitter knowledge that it had to be done, and the sharp tang of an age-old hurt that was never cured: a betrayal that no one could quite accept. "If Keigai hadn't been in our squad…I don't know who would have killed him."
Her hand, still laying on his shoulder, was trembling; he covered it with one of his own and used the other to wipe away the tear that fled down her pale cheek.
"He's dead," Lee repeated once more, reaching out to pull the stunned woman against his chest. She remained silent, even though her body shook against his with years of restrained sobs and tears, and of sleepless nights thinking, hoping, praying that one day he would return and set everything back to the way it should have been. She didn't make a sound, not for the entire night as Lee held her in his strong arms. Nothing, except for the softest whimper- an echo of his own words.
"Sasuke-kun's dead."