The Last Hirameki

Chapter 3 – The Bitter Taste of a Cherry Blossom


"No, no! If it's a four man team. Only one medic is needed. Six or more should include two medics but one must be jounin level. Geez. How do you not know this after six weeks?" Sakura growled, leaning over Naruto's shoulder and practically breaking her finger off as she snapped it repeatedly down on the roster he had been working on for over an hour.

Naruto just huffed out a laugh. "Don't stress out. I have two years to learn it all."

"You only have about twenty two months."

He jutted his eyebrows up and tightened his lips. "Oh... I guess when you put it that way…"

Sakura snorted. They'd been mentally labouring too long and too hard lately. Ten hours a day was spent dragging Naruto around and getting him acquainted with all the workings and day to day operations in Hokage tower and the Headquarters. Up to now, Sakura felt immersing him completely was better than sporadic training, but it was taking a toll on her own mental state. They hadn't even been near the hospital yet. Sakura couldn't have fathomed exactly how much the Hokage had to grasp and master until she started delving into the core of it with Naruto. The impetus of Tsunade's decision to quit was becoming quite crystalline and quite understandable.

Thank goodness Naruto had enough stamina for everyone because Sakura was fading rapidly. It was eight o'clock at night and they'd been at it for nine hours straight. There was no way she could managed a tenth.

"I need to stop," Sakura finally sighed, brushing her messy hair from her tired eyes. She straightened up and her spine objected.

"Let's get dinner." Naruto bent back and stretched over his chair, grinning like his twelve year old self at Sakura as he looked up at her. She could only nod.


There were a total of five people in the small restaurant when Naruto escorted Sakura in with a strong hand on her elbow. He led them to a booth under the window and they slid in, Naruto dropping on one side happily, and Sakura slumping like a ragdoll on the other.

The thick scent of cinnamon and coffee filled the air and made her feel hungry. The lights were just a little dim and the heat was thankfully on. It was almost as comfortable as being in her own apartment.

"How do you have so much energy?" Sakura grumbled and found a comfortable recline against the wall, her arm crooked on the thick sill. She blinked slowly, realizing she was exceedingly more fatigued than originally thought.

Naruto shrugged diffidently. "Lucky I guess." He snatched up the menu from beside the sugar container at the end of the booth and began to peruse it.

Because she had the same thing every time they came there, Sakura lay down against her arm and stared at Naruto. How long had it been since she properly looked at him; he really had become a man. His large, strong hands gripped the plastic menu as his lucent blue eyes scanned it slowly. His hair still had a hint of that childish mess, but somehow he looked more mature. Perhaps the sunshine mane was a bit longer or perhaps it was because it framed a face which had lost all the boyish roundness from their youth. He was handsome, no doubt. Quite a few young women in the village had already made their interest in him known.

Being Hokage would just ignite the appeal and he'd have a throng of candidates at his door. Sakura was happy for him, even if he was fairly oblivious to their advances at the present time. If there was one thing about Naruto, it was that he kept an eye on the prize.

"So what are you going to have?" she prodded as he scratched his cheek absently and glanced up.

"A large order of tanuki soba, I think. You?"

"Salad."

Naruto's eyes narrowed with disapproval. He sat back and slotted the menu in its leaning perch among the condiments.

"You should eat something else," he chided. "You're looking thinner."

"Am I?" Her voice lacked surprise.

"A little." Naruto scooched up against the wall as well and eased a leg up on the booth seat. Sakura loved it when they got lazy and relaxed and had an intimate dinner in a peaceful place. They'd had so many opportunities to hang out lately that it was becoming an ingrained need to be together for the quiet breaks. She adored spending time with him. In the last few weeks, she couldn't have imagined how difficult things would have been without their daily work sessions. Tsunade was quite crafty.

"So it's been weeks…" Naruto half mumbled, prompting Sakura's eyebrows to rise in question. "Have you uh… have you heard from anyone?"

"Anyone?" she breathed out, as her stomach clenched.

"I mean…him. Tsunade said he had to go and take care of some obligations and that he'd be gone a long time. I just wondered if he had sent word of where he's at or what he's doing."

Sakura closed her eyes for a moment. She would have liked to say that she didn't care or that she hadn't thought about Kakashi for the long six weeks they'd been working their asses off, but it wasn't the truth. She thought of him everyday. It was wearying to talk about him, although she had to give credit to Naruto for being perceptive enough not to use his name.

"No, Naruto. Absolutely nothing. Not even word of mouth."

"Hm."

Sakura opened her eyes again and watched Naruto purposefully looking around the restaurant at the other patrons, the chairs, the walls – anywhere but at her.

She laughed softly, thinking of that last goodbye. "You know…he kissed me before he left."

Naruto's double take was laughable.

Sakura straightened up and lazily tilted her head, a long breath escaping her. She smiled just a little sentimentally, filled with the ubiquitous mixture of loss and affection that came with Kakashi related things. "He pulled down his mask and he kissed me."

Naruto's face was screwed up so hard, he looked like he was about to break. "Wh—what do you—like a peck—k-kiss—like what…?"

"No… He really planted one on me - like a girlfriend. He was drunk and stupid and he hadn't bothered to come and say goodbye at all like he said he would. So I found him after he'd been drinking at the dirty pub, and before he walked away from me, he grabbed me and kissed me."

Seemingly lost for words, Naruto stared, his mouth agape.

"Then he walked away. He just walked away. He just left, Naruto. For good, I think." It was probably because she was so tired and hadn't properly examined that night for a long time, but heat began to fill her eyes.

"You think he's not coming back?"

With a shake of her head, the first tears dropped. "He said he was going home."

"What the Hell does that mean?" Naruto grumbled, crossing his arms. But his intensity quickly faded at the emotional site of his companion. "Sorry. I know you two were really close. But…why a kiss?"

Just as puzzled as Naruto, Sakura shrugged absently and stared out the window.

"That was sort of a douche-bag thing to do, don't you think?" he mumbled, mimicking her languid gaze out onto the streets.

She nodded a short dip of her chin, her glassy green eyes focused on the grassy crack in the sidewalk. "Can I ask you something?" she calmly queried as her head fell listlessly against the back of the booth. She didn't wait for his answer, didn't even look at him. "Do you think it's possible to fall for someone after they are gone?"


"I've looked the books over and all your corrections to the lower company accounts were impeccable. I'm pleased. You've learned that incredibly quickly."

Kakashi's head bobbed up from the ledger on the desk to see Hirameki Sato standing like a crooked tree in the doorway of the study. His dark brown yukata hung on his frail body appearing much like what a scarecrow made of sticks might look like.

"Thank you, Ojiisan," Kakashi replied respectfully and then let his dark eye drop back to the house accounts under his fingers. But when he sensed his grandfather still hovering in the doorframe, he looked back up.

"Kakashi, join me for tea in the garden. I need to speak with you." More of a demand than a request.

"Of course," Kakashi responded, immediately getting up from the ancient wooden chair that creaked and groaned with the shift in weight. The house was so quiet that each step he took whispered against the buttery soft floors, each brush of his blue yukata against his legs swished softly. His days were filled with silence. Ink stained his fingers now. And his joints ached with inactivity.

Reticently, he followed Sato out of the terrace doors and along the white gravel path in the garden to a small iron table under the largest cherry tree. Pink blossoms were flourishing on all the trees, and a few littered the tabletop like luxurious raindrops. The colour was stunning, as were the gardens upon gardens of flowers blooming all around them. The intensity of the different smells rattled Kakashi's extraordinary olfactory senses and he sniffed twice as he sat down, trying to keep from sneezing.

"Ah, the Sakura trees are finally blooming," Sato said heavily as he took a great deal of time lowering his frail body to the garden chair. "Such a late spring this year."

An elderly servant Kakashi knew as Isao scurried out from the terrace door with a tray and bowed as he set the porcelain tea set down. Before it had even reached the table, Kakashi could smell the sweetness of Gyokuro tea. Though Kakashi had come to understand his maternal grandfather was a refined man with simple elegant tastes, he could see that everything was the very best quality – the food, the garden, the furniture and of course, the tea.

Carefully, the servant poured out a small amount in Sato's tiny, sky blue cup, and then repeated the slow process with Kakashi.

"I have some news," Sato began while lifting the hot cup to his nose with his boney fingertips. He breathed in the sweet sent of the Gyokuro and then he locked his old gray eyes onto Kakashi. "I have announced you finally to the Daimyo and we are expected to dine with him tomorrow at the blossom viewing at his palace."

Kakashi bowed his head respectfully, and then picked up his own cup. He wasn't a fan of Gyokuro. Simple black tea would have been enough.

"There is one important thing that we must do first though," Sato continued, used to not waiting for Kakashi to make a response. "We must choose a name for you. You must go by Hirameki in public circles so there is no question of your heritage. I understand that you are somewhat known through the Five Countries for your skills. You must not be known as a shinobi here. Is this clear?"

Kakashi's dark gaze rose above Sato's head to watch a few pink blossoms fall from the tree rustling above them. One landed in his tea and Kakashi brought it to his lips and drank it slowly until the cup was empty. After choosing his words thoughtfully, he said, "I've had previous dealings with the Lightning Country's ninja. It's possible that some may suspect who I am."

"My barber will cut your hair and I've already commissioned an opaque contact lens for your odd eye. It's being delivered this morning. The scar is easily explained away. Many men have scars," Sato rambled off and then had a brief sip of his hot tea. "When I am gone, you will be the only Hirameki. You will be expected to advise the Daimyo in affairs of the Country and state. There are only a small handful of noble houses with that honour. It is better for all of us if you put that old life behind you and act as a gentleman now."

"I understand," Kakashi said, and even to himself his voice was hollow and false. He closed his eyes to quell his inner misgivings.

Six weeks had already passed and he was growing into his role quite easily on the outside, but his body craved the woods, craved the grip of chakra under his feet against the tree limbs. He hadn't used chakra once since he'd arrived. He'd virtually forgotten how reassuring it felt to have the trustworthy weight of a steel kunai in his hand.

"Kazuo," Sato breathed out.

"Pardon?"

"You'll be Kazuo now. Hirameki Kazuo. This is fitting."

Kakashi's eye turned to the gardener and his grandson trimming the hedge near the house as he thought on his new name. The young boy lifted his fingers up to catch some cherry blossoms as they floated and fell around everything. It was such a peaceful scene.

Paperwork and orders and servants and yukata had become a daily routine for Kakashi. If he could, he would trade places with that boy snipping away at the wayward greenery. He would trade places with any of the multitude that served him breakfast and tea and changed his sheets and raked the paths. Soon there would be nothing left of Hatake Kakashi.

In his lifetime, the whole story of his mother and father had never been told to him. All he knew was the sadness of the end of their story, and it seemed that he was writing new chapters in the same vein. His mother, Hana, had been a veritable princess in her circles, born as a distant relative of the Imperial family, and the only daughter to Sato. Sakumo was a son of Konoha and an extremely powerful and faithful ninja. How the two ever met was a mystery. Hana had not lived long enough to tell Kakashi of their meeting, and Sakumo was too entwined with his grief from her death to speak of her. All Kakashi knew was that she was a master at violin and that she had long black hair. Everything else was just dog-eared pictures in a tattered box.

From what he understood by the letter from his grandfather and the explanation that Tsunade gave him, Sakumo and Hana had fled her father's disapproving family to marry and were protected in Konoha. Sato tried to extradite her back through his political power, but the Third Hokage said that if Hana wanted, they would allow her to stay. The Raikage at the time did not want to get involved so the rest is just depressing history.

Sato's letter explained that Kakashi (even though a child of Hatake Sakumo) was the last Hirameki. And it was Kakashi's curiosity about the old man and about his mother's family that drew him there. The idea that Sato would die alone also plagued him after reading the unexpected correspondence. He owed nothing to the Hirameki family, but when there were no blood ties left, even distant unknown relatives seemed important.

"I should return to the accounts," Kakashi said evenly, absently day-dreaming about wandering to the waterfall and drowning himself quietly.

"Of course, Kazuo," Sato replied and then sipped his tea. It was obviously going to be seamless for the old man to supplant his name. For Kakashi, it was going to take a hell of a long time to get used to it – if he ever did.

The former ninja slowly got up and fought breathing in the cloying, aromatic air too deeply. The black eyepatch over his sharingan itched and felt tight. He hated wearing it. Somewhere deep in that trunk, among the orange books and spell scrolls was that faithful silver headband he wished he could still don.

"Oh, and Kazuo. Isao will escort you to town to the tailor. You will need a montsuki kimono for the party. The tailor will have one prepared." Sato didn't look at Kakashi as he spoke, rather he held his cup under his lips and closed his eyes.

This time, Kakashi didn't answer. He just drifted back inside, sat down at the desk and stared at the ledger until it blurred into nothingness.


The nearby village was rather large and the shops were all high class and good quality. Kakashi supposed that the wealthier section of the Lightning Country was so close that the shops had to be of an upper level to attract the lucrative clientele.

Isao trailed behind Kakashi who dallied and trekked glacially, taking in the wears in the store windows and stopping once or twice to stare at his reflection. He had to admit that the opaque eye contact matched the other eye perfectly and was a great deal more comfortable than the patch. How long had it been since that face stared back at him from anything other than a bathroom mirror? And complete with matching eyes, no less. Such an incredible novelty.

Again he stopped, this time at a jewellery store window.

"Are you married, Isao-san?" Kakashi asked casually, bending forward to look at some charms in a blue velvet case.

"P—pardon, Hirameki-dono?"

Kakashi's eyes rose slightly and caught Isao looking shocked. "Let's drop the dono. And the Hirameki. What do you say?"

Isao was a short man, and almost as old as Sato. But he still had a full head of hair and a bit more life in his step than most men his age. When he smiled, Kakashi found it very genuine, crinkling his bright hazel eyes. He'd yet to see Sato smile – if the man was capable. It was becoming harder and harder to reconcile the living embodiment of his grandfather with the person who wrote that heartfelt letter that lured him there.

Kakashi raised his eyebrows, trying to prompt his escort.

Unfortunately, Isao wasn't quite ready to give up the formalities and he shook his head just a little.

"In time, Isao, in time." Kakashi tilted his head and stared at the rows of unique handmade charms. One in particular was a sakura blossom made of silver with some pink details painted around the petals. It was quite elegant. "Come and look at this, Isao. What do you think?"

A little awkwardly, Isao shuffled up beside Kakashi and looked at the charms. "I think it's something you would give a child, Sir."

Kakashi turned his head and gave Isao a pleading look. "Sir is worse. Just call me Ka… Shit. Kazuo."

Isao's jaw tightened. "Is—is it for someone in particular?"

Kakashi looked back and shook his head. "No. It just reminded me of someone."

"Ah." Isao reluctantly pointed to the tailor across the street. "We'd better get to your appointment, Kazuo-dono."

Kakashi sighed. "I suppose that's a bit better…"


"You're here late again," Tsunade chided from the doorway of Sakura's office. "That's eight times this month I've caught you sitting at this desk after the sun has gone down."

Sakura lifted her tired eyes to the Hokage and blinked slowly. "I'm with Naruto all day. I need to stay caught up on my work here. It's fine. I'll take a day off soon." She looked back down at her paperwork but could easily hear Tsunade's heels clicking their way along the oak hardwood to the chair in front of the large desk.

"Sakura…" Tsunade said quietly as she sat down. "I gave you two years. I want you both to ease into it. A day or two a week have him shadow people to learn the areas. You two can work maybe a day or two together, but short days. I didn't ask you to give up your life. In fact, this is precisely why I gave you both two years to grow into your roles."

Sakura was stunned. Her eyes grew wide in disbelief. "I can't let my own work drop and there's so much for him to learn, Shishou."

"He has a lifetime to learn it all. He just needs a solid base to stand on as he slips into the role. I want you both to enjoy some freedom before you take on such demanding positions. Being Medical Director won't be easy either. Do you understand?"

A sense of loss swept over Sakura as she rubbed at her forehead. "I-I just wanted to keep busy."

"I know…"

"Do you?"

Tsunade smiled gently. "Yes. I do." Calmly she lifted herself from the chair and walked to the doorway. "Go find some friends and have a little fun. I think you could use it. Maybe get out of the city for a little bit."

"But I need to…"

"That's an order, Sakura. If you don't take the next day or two off and have a little fun, I'll ban you from the office for a month."

Even though Tsunade's voice was motherly and a little playful, Sakura knew that it wasn't a joke. Twice before, her Shishou had security keep her from entering the building for work purposes. A month was way too long. Having that much time to herself would probably be the end of her sanity.

"Yes, Shishou."

"Good," Tsunade huffed with finality and walked easily from the room.

Sakura slumped back in her chair and made a blatant noise of exasperation, slapping her hands on the chair arms. She couldn't remember ever being ordered to go and have fun. Seemed fairly redundant.

She spun her chair to gaze out of the dark, second story window. A bird was defiantly chirping away, sitting in the top of the tree directly outside as it swayed with the warm spring breeze. The moon hung like a beacon in the dark night sky. And the open window allowed the conversations of the passersby to reach her, prompting jealousy for their carefree occupation on such a perfect night.

Damn it, Tsunade was always right.

Maybe getting out of the city for a while would do her good.


The Daimyo's palace was almost twice as big as the Hirameki estate, but less elegant if Kakashi was any judge. It was Japanese style and surrounded by outbuildings and a stone wall. Inside, some things were garish and overdone, while some areas needed a slight bit of upkeep to bring them back to any former lustre they may have held. But the gardens were like that of his new home – lush and palatial. The entire back area was filled with flowers, viewing terraces and rowed with cherry trees – far more than Kakashi had ever seen before. It was a small version of paradise.

As they had walked there, Sato had calmly explained that the cherry blossom viewing was one of the biggest events of the year. The Sakura trees in the area grew the boldest because of the moisture in the air.

The entirety of the Feudal Lords from the Five Countries would attend, as would all the advisors to the Daimyo and any important people from miles around. He also said it would be a good place for Kakashi to start making new circles of acquaintances for business. Lastly he'd remarked (to Kakashi's great chagrin) that it would be a good start to work on a match for him to continue the family – something about a good woman for many children.

Reflexively, Kakashi drowned him out by concentrating on the sound of the tree leaves rustling, and the quiet thunder of the waterfall in the distance. The mist hung like patches of opulent gauze under some of the momiji trees along the pathways and the air was still brisk and clean. This was the thing that Kakashi loved most – the smell of the pine from the forest and the fresh, moist air. Up to now it had been his saving grace.

They continued through the palace and out toward the gardens where they were greeted warmly by a servant. Kakashi rubbed his hand through his hair, feeling the unnerving shortness of the back of it. Already he missed the scruffy coiffure he'd neglected since he was a young teen. Often he'd imagine himself with a ridiculous ponytail hanging down his back in his later years like the one his father had treasured, but now it was less than half an inch long. The barber had thankfully been kind enough to leave it lengthier around the front to help hide the scar. It fell a little over his lens covered sharingan and diminished the silver line of the mended skin.

Looking around as they reached main garden and gathering area, Kakashi could tell there were already at least a hundred people – all dressed in their most formal attire.

Kakashi's own kimono was well fitted, black; the lining and white juban were made of the best silk. It bore the five traditional crests of the Hirameki which looked like ivy leaves around a wolf head. Kakashi liked the black on black and found the whole ensemble comfortable, right down to the hakama pants and silvery gray haori himo which he had managed to tie himself quite expertly.

"The trees are astonishingly beautiful this year," Sato remarked quietly to Kakashi, effortlessly leading him toward the circle of people around the Daimyo by his elbow. It was immediately obvious whom the Daimyo was by the high fan-like formal hat and the throng of kiss-ups hanging on his every word. But the pierce of the Daimyo's half-lidded eyes through his thin glasses, and the confidence he exuded told Kakashi that he was a discerning man.

"Come, Kazuo. You must be introduced. I see that there are many dignitaries from other countries here so we will need to make the rounds."

Sato's grip tightened and Kakashi allowed himself to be led to the group who were currently cooing over the beauty of the cherry blossoms. When they approached, the Daimyo himself held his arms out to them and said more congenially than would have been expected, "Sato-kun!"

So many more things became clear about the Hirameki family in that instant.

"This must be your grandson back from abroad. Kazuo isn't it?" the Daimyo continued, taking two steps forward and breaking through the circle of people chattering on about insignificant things.

Sato bowed, and when he straightened back up, Kakashi saw the first smile in six weeks transform his wrinkled face. He also understood that Kazuo was to be his name long before it was ever spoken aloud to him. This didn't sit well.

"Indeed, Katsura-dono," Sato replied happily to the Daimyo. "He's been traveling and working abroad for many years, and I am happy to have him home."

"How do you like it here, Kazuo?" the Daimyo asked, his dark eyes squarely fixed on Kakashi.

"I'm settling in quite well. This is a beautiful country." Kakashi bowed respectfully and smiled.

"He looks like his mother, Sato," Katsura remarked intimately, leaning in closer. "He has her eyes."

Kakashi's jaw abruptly clenched as he thought to himself, "Well one eye, anyway."

Sato's mouth threatened a frown, but managed to remain in a tight line when Hana was mentioned. "Yes. He does..."

A slight awkward pause strained the conversation, but the Daimyo finally turned to Kakashi and nodded. "Please enjoy your viewing. We can speak more at dinner. I have some people I would love for you to meet."

"Thank you." Kakashi bowed again and took a step back to free himself of any conversational obligation. Sato and Katsura continued to chat, staring around at the crowd and nodding. It was rare to see anything other than staunch self-righteousness from Sato so the change gave Kakashi a rare glimpse of what his grandfather might have been when he was happy – if that were ever the case.

Slipping away with ninja-like stealth, Kakashi made a bee line for the small bar in the corner of the back terrace, which strangely no one was making use of. He ordered sake and leaned on the edge of the bar, staring at the pink and white leaves drowning everyone in their spiralling rainfall. The murmur of the crowd grew into laughter and animated conversation and soon it sounded like a dull roar.

After his third sake, Kakashi started to feel more at ease. They'd be having dinner soon, making connections, meeting people and solidifying his place as the Hirameki heir. It wasn't exactly how he'd wanted his life to turn out – but what was life without variety he thought unconvincingly. Could he have just kept going as before, reading smut in trees and going on the odd mission? Didn't sound so bad, really - especially compared to the idea of arranged marriage.

Collectedly, he watched as a crowd of young women strolled by, their brilliantly decorated kimono looking more like a feast for the eye instead of fabric. And then something grabbed him, clutched at his insides like a tight, burning fist.

A woman stood with her back to him. She was slender and elegant, her long white obi dotted with tiny flowers, nearly reached the floor; her black silk kimono was so long it made her look statuesque. But the outfit wasn't the striking thing about her.

It was her hair.

Like every geisha fantasy Kakashi had ever had, this woman had a brilliantly intricate knot of curls with woven flowers atop her head. It probably took hours to do and even the ornaments she had were perfectly set. But his rare astonishment was actually because her hair was pink. Pink!

What were the odds of another woman with pink hair being there at that very moment? There were no ninja invited save for perhaps the Raikage and some guards – which Kakashi had not laid eyes on yet. Most civilian women had fairly regular hair colours or an obvious dye job. He'd never seen anyone else with naturally pink hair-ever.

Could she possibly have been assigned to escort the Fire Daimyo? What could her purpose be for being in Kumo?

Kakashi pounded down the last cup of sake in his hand and nearly rushed over to her. Anyone watching would have seen his haste, but he cared little about that at the moment.

When he reached the circle of giggling young women, he carefully put his hand around her arm just below her shoulder and leaned close. "What are you doing here?" He wondered if he was holding her too tightly in his anticipation.

"I'm sorry?!" The young woman swiftly spun around to feel an unexpected hand on her arm.

Immediately, Kakashi let go. "I'm so sorry… I thought you were someone else… Pardon me."

The girl's shocked blue eyes ran up and down his clothes and over his face before a smile eased out and brimmed widely. The other women in the group had all grown quiet and Kakashi looked around to see a great deal of grins as some leaned together and whispered.

"You know someone else with this colour hair?" she laughed sweetly, obviously supposing him a liar.

Kakashi smiled as politely as he could to the tune of more giggling and whispers. "I do, actually. I apologize for grabbing you." He should have known it wasn't her. She didn't smell the same or sound the same. The sake was playing with him, as was Fate.

The girl tilted her head and softly caressed her long swan-like throat with the tip of her black fan. "I'll accept your apology if you introduce yourself."

"Ah…" Kakashi rubbed at the back of his head, rueing that his hair was gone and he was this exposed man for everyone to see. "I'm Hirameki Ka…Kazuo."

"Hirameki? You're the grandson of Hirameki-san whom everyone has been talking about? It's very nice to finally meet you. I am Maruyama Aiko. I look forward to seeing more of you at these gatherings, Hirameki-san." She snapped open her fan and covered her red lips as she smiled again – attempting to be demure.

"Thank you," Kakashi said pleasantly, ignoring the inference in her tone, and then bowed away his departure. "Please excuse me."

"Of course," she breathed out almost inaudibly. "I'm sure we'll see each other again very soon."

Any other man might have had a difficult time hearing her last words, but his ears easily picked them up. He turned and trudged his way back to the bar, lifting his fingers to oblige the bartender for two more sake.

What was he thinking? There would be no way that Sakura was there. She was probably leaning over her work desk and scribbling furiously on boring reports.

He drank the small cup of sake placed in front of him while the next was poured. He was more than sure that he was probably radiating disappointment.

Perhaps he looked more like a Hirameki now.


Sometimes I don't realize how gloomy I make stories. Sorry. It'll get happier. As usual, more very soon.

And again, thanks for the sweet reviews. I'm having a hayday seeing all the familiar names and all the new ones.