The Last Hirameki
Chapter 2 – The Longest Kiss Goodbye
Kakashi's apartment was dark when he got back from stumbling and trudging through the streets in almost blissful intoxication. The large bag he was going to use for travel sat on the kitchen table, empty and glaring at him as he inexpertly fumbled on the light. Sober reality hit him like a fist.
A travel trunk filled with the rest of his life was sitting next to the apartment door; it would be following him later. Sadly, there wasn't much of a life to take so the trunk was only half-full. Books, expectedly, were stacked in the trunk, as well as some civilian clothing and photos – but there wasn't much else worth taking. He'd been a man of little sentimentality and tended to live in the moment. He never collected anything worthwhile and he was never one for trinkets. If it was useful, he owned it. If it wasn't, he didn't.
And because they were no longer needed, his occupational belongings would be staying.
After all the packing was done, the shelves empty, drawers cleaned out and the bed stripped, only one picture remained in the apartment: his young and naive only gennin team. He decided he was going to leave it there on the windowsill where it belonged. They would not be coming. It would be far better for him if they faded into memory like everyone else who'd passed through his life.
As he stared at the empty bag on the table, the room tilted and spun. But Kakashi dutifully refrained from being engulfed in the sleepy haze of his current state. Instead he stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower. In moments, he was working hard to sober up under the burning hot spray that bit at his skin and made his muscles loosen. It felt better than almost anything had in days.
After he dried off and wandered his apartment in only a towel, Kakashi flicked on the kettle and dropped a teabag into a mug.
The room was too quiet. Normally he loved the silence, but not tonight.
His mind, though he'd managed up to now not to think about it, was turning back down the pathway to where Sakura had stood crying when he trudged away. Any other day, he would be sick with regret for drawing her into his self-deprecation. But oddly enough, he wasn't regretting it one bit. Perhaps it was the raw spite he had for being obligated to strangers and having to give up his entire life for a man he wasn't too thrilled about, or maybe it was just some well earned selfishness, but Kakashi believed there was nothing wrong with what he did.
He'd wanted to kiss her for ages, and alcohol was fantastic for impulsivity.
It all started about the time she had turned nineteen. More than a few of his friends and underlings had remarked on her exponentially increasing incandescent sexuality. Sakura was a complete package with looks, brains, personality, and those damn sexy boots. She'd learned to use flirtation expertly, he might add. But Kakashi saw more in her. Since Sasuke's death and the year she dedicated herself to coddling and steering Naruto back to the right path as well as becoming the best in her field, she had grown into an incredible person.
But that wasn't why he wanted to kiss her. Yes, he had become attracted to her like a moth to a candle – he was older, not dead. And he grew tired of arguing with his friends that she was too young to look at 'like that', because she really wasn't anymore. She was an adult in every sense of the word.
But the thing that drew Kakashi was the vulnerability that she showed only him. There wasn't any part of her she would hide from him. It made him weak at the thought of what a few years might have brought to them. It made him bemoan the thought that he would miss her brilliant metamorphosis as she aged. At thirty, he believed she would be the ultimate force to be reckoned with. Oh what he would do to her if she were thirty…
She was born a decade too late.
And as she aged, he aged. He was thirty three, and starting to feel the abusive years of being a ninja in his cracking joints and creaking bones. In his wildest dreams, he never imagined he would act on any inner impulses when it came to seducing her because of that age difference – though he believed himself more than adequately skilled to do so should that have changed.
Instead, he promised himself that he would watch over her and be happy when she finally set her sights on another man. Sasuke had been unfortunate to die before he could know the grown up Sakura. They were all unfortunate that way, he supposed.
Uchiha's were morons though, as he could attest to from unpleasant personal experience.
The clock was ticking loudly now and brought Kakashi back to the inevitability of the task at hand. He slowly drank the tea as he dropped sundries, snacks, a few maps and a couple of books into his travel sack. He packed a few incidentals like a watch, compass and two kunai even though he wasn't going to need anything sharp where he was going. But it was a long five days to get there and it wouldn't hurt to have some insurance.
Lastly, when the bag was sealed and ready, Kakashi sat down with a piece of paper and a pen to obligingly write the letter that he didn't really want to write.
It was poorly worded and wouldn't get his point across, but she deserved a little closure. He'd opened a squeaky, hidden door tonight with that kiss so at least he could give her a hand to lock it back up. Sakura would endlessly dwell on what he'd done with that kiss. This, he knew about her.
No matter what though, in the days and years to come, he couldn't imagine finding her equal - especially in his impending civilian life.
Morning came to Konoha with the ubiquitous warm breezes and bustling keeners on the streets outside the window, but Sakura couldn't even drag herself out of bed. The mixture of feelings and thoughts and changes that happened in only a few startling moments the night prior kept her tossing and turning into the wee hours and now her puffy eyes fought opening.
It was around six AM and the sun was beginning to peek over the wall in the most perfect of ways, making its path to her window. The dull blue-gray rays cast new shadows which intruded on the old ones as she lay still and stared at the shifting light through half lidded eyes.
Kakashi had kissed her. He had really kissed her.
And not just a peck, not a touch of lips to hers – he knocked her socks off with a toe-curler. She would have expected a pack of enemy ninja to jump out of the shadows in evening gowns before she ever expected him to kiss her. Sure they were close, inseparable even, but she never dreamt that he'd have some sexual attraction to her.
And it wasn't horrible. She kept reliving the moment over and over. It was...sort of amazing. Even intoxicated, the man could kiss.
But he had diminished capacity in his alcohol stupor and he was leaving them. Maybe it meant nothing and he was just too drunk to know what he was doing. Maybe he was leaving in a blaze of glory by burning all his important bridges with long fantastic kisses goodbye.
Last night her synapses seized as her hand clamped over her mouth, watching him walk away from her for maybe the last time. Honestly, she was just too flustered to chase him. And if she did, what could she say after something like that?
By now, he was probably gone. She had wanted to run to his apartment, maybe even walk him to the edge of the Fire Country to get some answers to the ten million questions forming a typhoon in her mind, but what good would it have done? She didn't want to hear that he regretted it. She didn't want to hear that he maybe didn't even remember it.
That sad, last goodbye was so imperfect but she wouldn't change it. He'd kissed her, and she understood in some recess of her awakened mind that it made her briefly happy.
And with that thought, she began to cry again.
The clack-clack of the train through the Fire Country was hypnotic and Kakashi fought the drowsiness the rocking brought over him. He sat comfortably on the top of a train car, eating a banana and rueing every single drink he'd had the night before. Twice he'd been sick, and the sway of the train wasn't doing anything to help.
At least now, outside the stuffy car, he was able to breathe in the fresh air and get his bearings. He still wore his jounin greens and his mask hung around his throat. In all the years he'd worn that soft piece of lycra over his face, it never occurred to him that he would one day forswear it. It was like a second skin.
The train whistle rang out, rattling Kakashi's aching head, and indicating they were almost to the far edge of the Fire Country. After this, he would have at least four more days of travel on foot unless he could hitch a fortuitous ride with someone – though not likely while dressed as a ninja.
In four days he would be out of place. In four days, he would become someone else entirely. There was no rush to get there.
The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, its pink orange rays casting shapes through the trees on each side of the track. Kakashi would try to remember what the Fire Country looked like when he was gone. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, working to memorize the earthy perfume of the mossy forest he knew like his own hands.
He thought of the grass crushed under his back as he read in the park across from his apartment. He thought of the welcome scent of the Ichiraku ramen stand and sweet vanilla smell of his favourite bakery. He recalled the sound of the metal on metal clangs in the training fields and the leaden, yet enjoyable scent of weapon oil that used to fill his apartment, just like it filled his father's home years before.
And lastly, he would remember the sweet scent of Sakura's hair, and the cream she used on her skin. He would remember how she made a soft sound of pleasure as he kissed her, and how hot her fingers were when they pressed into his back.
She would have the letter now, he believed. He hoped in years to come she would forgive him.
Not that he would ever know.
"Sakura, why are you are still here?" Tsunade asked from Sakura's office door, her eyes going from the darkness behind the windows to the clock reading ten fifty-six.
Sakura glanced up. "I actually just got in. I need to catch up on what I missed today."
Tsunade fell against the doorframe lightly and sighed. "Don't work yourself to an early grave like me, Sakura. I'm so tired of work. I'm too old to keep on like this."
Sakura's eyes snapped back up from her work to see the Hokage staring out the window. She was in her usual green jacket, her blond hair tied in two long ponytails and a wistful look on her face that Sakura had never seen before.
"Of course you aren't. Don't talk like that," Sakura mumbled, wanting to get back to work, but unable to look away from the forlorn Hokage. "Why are you still here?"
"I've been thinking pretty hard about a few things. That's why I came to look for you." Tsunade strolled into the room and sat down in the soft leather chair on the other side of Sakura's desk. She lifted her heels onto the desk edge and crossed her feet, reclining comfortably. Yet her face was solemn.
"I'm sorry, Shishou. Can we talk tomorrow? I'm having sort of a rough day," Sakura managed, rubbing away at the headache that was growing sharply at her forehead. She imagined that her red-rimmed eyes were a dead giveaway of how her day had been up to then.
"Nope. I want to talk now," Tsunade demanded gently. "This is incredibly important and it concerns you and Naruto."
Sakura's pen dropped to the desk and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. Tsunade was unusually serious and the possible reasons started to seep into Sakura's thoughts a little deeper than Kakashi for the moment. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Whenever it came to Naruto, Sakura always found that ingrained concern leaping forward.
The Hokage's grin widened in obvious victory. Why the woman enjoyed distracting Sakura from paperwork was a mystery.
"Well, I'm ready to enjoy some rest, Sakura. I've been thinking on this for a matter of months and I think its time for me to pass on the reigns. I'm going to give up being Hokage."
Sakura's mouth reactively dropped open. What shouldn't have been a bombshell was the most unexpected thing in such a roller coaster of a day.
"I can't believe you're saying this. You have so many years ahead of you and the village will fall apart without your leadership…" Sakura's fingers rubbed ferociously at her temples. "Why today of all days, Shishou? Why now? Your timing is…"
Tsunade's smile turned to something very genuine and understanding, and Sakura felt her insides twisting. She was completely serious.
"Naruto will be my successor. But he's not quite ready."
Sakura nodded slowly. Naruto wasn't the unexpected choice but she supposed they all expected Kakashi to be next for a while until Naruto was in his later twenties.
"Yes, Shishou."
"That's where you come in. I want you to work with him and get him acquainted with the operations at the Hokage tower. I want you to familiarize him with all the processes and responsibilities right down to ANBU rosters and Jounin selection. I'll give him two years."
"Two- two years? Is that enough time?"
Tsunade laughed softly. "I was dropped in it in a day, Sakura. If it came down to it, I think he could handle it now, but I don't want him to have to do that. I want him ease into it and still enjoy being young. And I want this to be your project. Keep him involved and see that he's fit. I'm counting on you."
Sakura nodded again. In two years, Naruto would realize his dream and she would be able to help him. "Of course. Thank you for your trust, Shishou. When will you tell him?"
Tsunade eased up from the chair and brushed her bangs back from her eyes. "I'll tell him in the morning. I'd like you to be here." The Hokage then stepped a little closer to the desk and slid a hand into her pocket.
"I will. He'll be so excited, I can hardly wait to see his reaction," Sakura said, feeling some minor excitement bursting in her chest. It was so welcome after such an emotionally difficult day.
"There's something else," Tsunade said, pulling a letter out of her pocket and placing it on the desk. She pushed it toward Sakura with one long finger, but held it there. "When Naruto is ready to take over Hokage, I want you to take over as Medical Director."
Tsunade's words drifted into Sakura's ears, but she didn't really hear them. Had she listened, she would have understood that her own dreams were going to be realized as well. But the letter on the desk, the one with her name scratched out in Kakashi's familiar handwriting, stole all awareness. She couldn't look away.
"Did you hear me?" Tsunade asked, finally relinquishing her hold on the letter.
"Naruto…tomorrow," she parroted incorrectly. "I'll see you then, Shishou."
Her fingers hastily scrambled around the letter and she looked up one last time to see Tsunade turning the corner out of the office doorway. Did she say goodbye?
"Why a letter?" she wondered aloud, her shaking fingers tearing gently at the sealed flap. When she opened it, she found one awkwardly folded piece of paper inside. Carefully, nervously, she pulled it out and laid it flat on the desk.
Her heart was dropping into her stomach.
Sakura,
I should start by saying that I'm sorry for not coming to see you while sober. I am a coward in some important ways. I didn't want to make you cry.
I haven't told everyone that I am going so there will most likely be some talk before I'm forgotten. I'm sorry if this burdens you as well. It wasn't my intention.
I'm not worried about you because you have grown into such a strong person. I can hardly reconcile you with the girl you once were. I'm proud to have been a part of your development, if only a small one. What I am sorry for is that I won't see you come into your full potential, which possibly has no limit. I wasn't lying when I said you were my favourite.
For what happened tonight in the park, it was unintentional. I'm a poor drunk. I regret that I can't take it back.
I hope you'll forgive me in time.
Kakashi
Sakura crumpled the letter up in her fist. Getting kicked in the stomach was so much less painful than the sensation that sat there now. Such a cold, easy letter; she wondered why the hell he would bother to write it? It left more things unsaid and open than had he just walked away out of her life.
"You stupid bastard…"
He regretted kissing her. He's blaming it on the alcohol. He really was a fucking coward.
After a second of fighting tears, she placed the rumpled paper on the desk and smoothed it out with her palm. She read it over six more times before folding it up and placing it in her desk, tucked away in her top drawer where she wouldn't see it behind the thick plastic pencil tray.
When it came to the kiss, she didn't feel she needed to forgive him – just understand his motivation. But now, because he'd left this letter, she would find a measurable bit of hate and hold onto it because he had torn out that piece of her heart reserved just for him.
Four days passed in a flash, and Kakashi arrived at the edge of the Lightning Country. A fine mist shrouded the dense trees, and it was damp. The air was clean though, and the roads were paved. It could be worse, he imagined. He could have been heading to Sand and a lifetime of dry skin.
It was only another hour or so to the house. A map had been sent in the original letter he received, which was also tucked in his pocket. Kakashi had been to Lightning before, but never to the outlying estates near where the Daimyo lived so he would need the map eventually.
For a long time, he stood there at the border between the countries staring into the foggy lands. He pulled his mask down and slowly removed his headband from his eye. The sharingan pulsed with chakra, searching the area in vain for other chakra. Then Kakashi crouched and dug in his pack to find the old black eyepatch he always owned and hated to wear.
With a long breath out, he stripped off his vest and put the eyepatch over his eye. It felt so wrong for so many reasons, but he had to give it up, didn't he? Just like he gave up being a shinobi, gave up his apartment, and gave up his life.
The day the letter arrived was the beginning of the end. But how could he say no when he had but one person blood related to him left in the entire world? How could he refuse that sort of innate responsibility?
He was a Hirameki now. He would have to be his mother's son instead of his father's for the next part of his life. He was expected to become a gentleman, to do taxes, run servants, keep the grounds and affairs in order. He was expected to continue the bloodline – but not the bloodline limits.
Would his mother have approved of such a demanding return to her family? In the few short years he knew her, she never mentioned them even once.
Now there were none left but Kakashi and that old man.
Finally giving in to obligation, he stuffed his vest into the pack and started walking.
Within an hour, he was at the edge of the village and another twenty minutes brought him to a large wrought iron gate with thick stone balusters. Beyond it was a massive western style mansion where the trees were cut into unnatural shapes and the pathways snaked perfectly through the manicured grass. He could already smell the garden that was assuredly behind it. A waterfall plummeted from a short cliff face far beyond the house, and wilder looking trees were far, far in the distance.
At least there was a forest nearby. One solace perhaps.
After being announced at the gate, Kakashi was escorted by an elderly gardener to the front door where he was left alone. The door was unlocked and opened almost silently.
Kakashi stepped through the threshold of the massive dwelling to be immediately assaulted by the scent of must and wet concrete. It smelled of forgotten lives, ghosts of people he'd never known and maybe never cared to know. Who were the Hirameki but a name to him?
An oak wood floor stretched through the foyer. Beyond that entrance hall were open doorways to other various rooms – great room, dining room. The place was too big, too empty, desolate even. It almost smelled and tasted of sadness. Kakashi could feel it all the way down into his aching bones, feel it knotting through his ribs like rough twine.
He was standing in a foreign country in the house of a family he never knew save for the one woman who gave him life. And even she was dust. Her face was now just a muddle of what he thought she looked like. All the pictures of her were faded, drifting away to pretend memories of a mother he almost knew.
"Hatake Kakashi," a sour voice called from another room. The tone was filled with distaste for that name. Hatake. Dirty word.
The man who had called out stepped into the dim light of the first hallway, his spindly old legs carrying him very slowly toward Kakashi. He was dressed in a blue yukata and his thin hair was silver and gray. "You're late."
Kakashi bowed respectfully. "I apologize, Ojiisan."
The elderly Hirameki's face darkened and his steps halted. "You look like your father." He bent forward slightly and clasped his hands behind his curved back. "You're a shinobi as well." His lip curled unnaturally.
Kakashi responded to neither comment from his only grandfather. The skeleton of a man looked like rags and bones and Kakashi wasn't one to allow insult to get to him anymore. He'd heard all sorts of bad things about his father over the years so comments from a man who didn't know him mattered not. How could this fading relic possibly know what sort of man Sakumo was?
Time doesn't heal all wounds. And some people can hold anger for life. These were truths Kakashi understood well and accepted.
"Bring your things and I'll show you to your rooms." A thin, pale hand waved at him abruptly to come, and Kakashi quietly obeyed.
As he passed the dusty pictures on the walls and the closed doors of that unhappy place, he thought of his own home, his old life, and in particular, Sakura.
She probably hated him now. He'd said goodbye so cruelly and realized he couldn't leave her with lingering hope of a return. But he couldn't leave without one kiss. She was young and beautiful and deserved better than a rapidly aging jounin with family issues. He didn't think she was right for him either…
But it was nice to have a person know him again for a little while.
Thanks to everyone for your kind reviews. I've really missed being involved and you reminded me just how much. More very very soon.
