Author's Note: I know it's short and I know it's kind of filler, but… It has been forever since an update and I don't want to rush into things, either… Um, sorry if it's melodramatic, too. So… apologies all around, I guess. Although! Part of the reason I was so reluctant to update is that I got only one review for chapter 3! ONE REVIEW! It's been out for over a month and people are putting it on Alert and stuff, but one review::cries:: Reviews are my inspiration! I neeed them!
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and it is highly doubtful that I ever will. I get no money from this. Just headaches. And reviews, usually!
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to anbu10, the person who reviewed chapter 3. Many thanks! I love all of my reviewers, but special thanks to anbu10 for letting me know what s/he thought of chapter 3 when no one else dared to do so! Especially since I loved chapter 3 lots... whereas I'm kinda iffy about this chapter.
"What happened? What happened? What happened?"
Again and again the question was beaten into the sides of her skull. It came in two varieties: one, the voice of a concerned daughter; the second, a concerned father. His rumbling baritone mingled with her high pitch as it resounded inside her head, echoing in every dark crevice of her mind.
"What happened?"
(…)
Although Sakura's gaze had been focused on the window for about half an hour, she hadn't registered that it was raining. Over and over again, she was re-playing the events of the afternoon as if they were a movie in her head. She had run through the events over a dozen times now, and the sequence of things was starting to get fuzzier and fuzzier.
"What kinds of… problems are you dealing with?"
Someone had said that to her, but she couldn't remember who… either Shikamaru or Kakashi, it was so hard to tell sometimes…
"But you care more than you let on, don't you?"
Again, a tough one: she settled on Shikamaru, because she seemed to associate the quote with the wind rustling through his hair ominously.
"I don't need you!"
She was sure she had said that one, but somehow it came out sounding like Shikamaru.
"I care very much about what happens to you."
She let out a derisive snort; that one had to have been Kakashi. Shikamaru had made it clear to her that he didn't give a rat's ass about what happened to her.
"I've been fifteen years old before, and I was stupid then too—"
Kakashi; he had tried to pull the "I've been there" speech on her, much to her annoyance.
"Will you stop the personal attacks and just look at this situation reasonably—?"
"We've been getting along reasonably well, haven't we?"
"Reasonably well, yes."
"That sounds reasonable, I suppose."
"Or you just don't want to question your own reasoning."
No matter who had said it, it came down to being reasonable. Everything was reasonable— nothing was certain, nothing was perfectly all right. All it was in the end was a compromise that left a sick feeling in Sakura's stomach. And then there was that voice, the one that was almost hers, nagging in a motherly sort of way and trying to pose the other side of the situation to her. Sakura tried her best to shove this voice and its "everyone's human" logic out of her mind; she didn't care what either of the men were. Or, more reasonably (how she hated the word now), she couldn't let herself care. If she were to start wallowing in her own self-loathing and regretting every last word she had spat at either of the pair — Shikamaru, Kakashi, what was the difference in the end? — she'd have no room left to be angry with them, and for Sakura, anger came first. Sure, they had reasons for saying the things they'd said and doing the things they'd done, but she'd had reasons too, hadn't she? She'd had every right to get as angry as she did, hadn't she?
No, the voice was telling her softly. No, you didn't. But Sakura didn't care what that voice had to say about it; reading in between the lines, all the voice was doing was demanding reason, same as the rest of them. Hadn't Tsunade once said something about reason to her? Something about it being subjective? After all, reason was abstract, a concept that can't be strictly defined. It was up to the victims of circumstance to decide what steps to take.
Sakura let out a frustrated scream, muffled by the pillow she was burying her face into and drowned out by the ever-hammering rain. Why did everything have to be so difficult?
(…)
Kakashi collapsed onto his bed, glaring moodily out the window. He shifted onto his side before curling up into a ball, clutching angrily at his forehead.
Why? Why? Why?
The anger coursed through his body like a disease, dredging up every last dirty feeling he had ever had about himself and blaring it into his ears. He screwed his eyes shut but he couldn't block out the images, playing in his mind for him like a bloody montage of anything and everything concerning either Rin or Sakura. Innocent laughter to shrill screams… trivial arguments to bloody battles… heated sex to heart-wrenching sobs… It all blurred together, a never-ending reel of anguish and self-loathing that all seemed to end in a girl with short brown hair or emerald green eyes, crying her heart out and screaming herself hoarse.
He had been trying for three years now, and he thought that he had been doing a pretty damn good job; he cried less often now and it didn't hurt so much to look at Sakura. Sasuke's death had been very, very hard on him; his recovery from that had stunted the more long-term rehabilitation of his mind and his heart. He realized now, with painful clarity, how as he was becoming more and more absorbed in the past again he had lost sight of just how fragile his daughter was becoming. Sakura was strong, of course; she had monstrous strength and a fiery will. But she was a kunoichi of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, and with that title came the inevitable burden of heartbreak. She had been dealt a staggering blow and still, it seemed, didn't trust her own father enough to confide in him at such a difficult time in her life. Indeed, he thought angrily, she had probably confided more in Tsunade than in him.
But was Sakura really to blame? He had never exactly reached out a hand to her, but he had never been cold, had he?
He blinked twice, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his Sharingan with the heel of his hand. Maybe I'm over-thinking things, he thought as he gazed out the window. Those things she said… Sakura's smart, and understanding about this sort of thing… She can't honestly believe that I would want to hurt her… or would have wanted to hurt Rin…
No, he reasoned, Sakura had been primarily angry with Shikamaru. Although the boy was a genius, he could have been a lot more tactful about dumping Sakura. Perhaps it was a sign of his own emotional fatigue that he would sink to insulting what had been the basis of Sakura's very existence for so long… Her infatuation with Sasuke had defined her for years. Sakura was choosing to ignore the very real problems that were facing Shikamaru, too… A lot of things were plaguing the young chuunin and a girlfriend simply wasn't high on his priority list. If Sasuke hadn't passed, they probably could have worked something out, but one man couldn't deal with two women grieving the losses of loved ones. When it came down to it, Shikamaru's loyalties lay with his dead sensei and the family he had left behind— the family he had promised to protect. That, coupled with the death of someone he had failed to save, was weighing heavily on Shikamaru and coping with the added grief of Sakura's distress was too much for him to handle.
But Sakura couldn't allow herself to sympathize with Shikamaru; it simply wasn't an option for her. In her mind, fifteen-year-old boys were just as responsible for their words and actions as men twice their age. Of course, Kakashi knew that it had been wrong of Shikamaru to say those things, but he had a strong feeling of empathy for Asuma's protégé.
And then, of course, he empathized with Sakura on a deep level because he knew painfully well what it was like to lose a loved one at fifteen. The circumstances had been different, but it boiled down to the same gnawing emptiness… Sakura felt responsible for being unable to stop Sasuke from leaving the village in the first place, and there seemed to be nothing anyone could say or do that would alleviate the guilt that was tearing her apart. Kakashi was genuinely afraid for Sakura and wanted to wring his own neck for agreeing to her little pact of disinterest; his job was to protect her, dammit, not to give her equal footing to him! He had half a mind to march into her room and demand her to see reason, but something told him she wouldn't take to kindly to the intrusion. After all, that's how this whole business had started, wasn't it? He was just a father concerned that his daughter came home sobbing. He wondered bitterly just how angry she'd be if he had chosen to ignore her; he'd have ended up in the shouting match of a lifetime and on the receiving end of countless accusations and insults.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He glanced at the mask he had discarded on the floor; the glob of Sakura's spit was glittering in the dim light.
God, how would his father have punished him if he had so much as touched his face? Such a thing had never crossed his mind as a child— he had been bred not to even consider physically retaliating when his father was reprimanding him. He almost laughed at how poor of a father he himself was turning out to be, but somehow he felt more like crying.
(…)
As a little girl, Sakura would often stare at the ceiling and find patterns in the strange shapes the raised paint made. She would find comfort in the little stories that would play out for her; she would see animals and people and flowers, calming down as she imagined the sorts of conversations they would have.
Now, however, she was finding no solace in the images forming in front of her. All she was seeing was Sasuke: somehow every line became a strand of his spiky black hair, an irritated frown, his long neck… her thoughts seemed to have dragged themselves inevitably to her raven-haired lost love. Had Shikamaru just been a replacement for Sasuke? Had she been so desperate to get away from the thought of him that she had distanced herself from anything that served as a reminder of her own failure? Was that why she hardly talked to Naruto anymore, or why feelings of anger and bitterness towards her father had been resurfacing? It made sense, she supposed… It would explain why she would cringe whenever she saw Sai, or why she would feel the urge to crack the glass of Team 7's photograph whenever she saw it on the windowsill.
She blinked once. Wait… I still have the picture on my windowsill? She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted at the window. Yes, it was still there, right where it had been for three years now… She was genuinely surprised that she hadn't, in her anger or anguish, destroyed it. She reached out a hand to grab it; she halted the movement abruptly when her finger was almost touching the glass. Her hand remained frozen in its outstretched position for several agonizingly long moments as she observed the picture; the lighting was poor, but she had memorized it to the last shadow. The day it was taken came immediately to mind, although it was fuzzier than the last time she had thought about it… It really had been a long time ago, when she had stood there, squished in between her two male teammates, her tongue sticking defiantly out of her mouth as she dodged the sparks flying between Sasuke and Naruto.
Her lip trembled as she extended her finger, brushing the side of her own face. How young she had been then… The grinning little girl whose happiness was captured and frozen forever by the photographer… she hadn't suspected that life would ever be difficult, or that her road would be plagued by death and heartbreak. No, at thirteen she had envisioned a perfect world where she grew up to be a successful ninja; marry her sweetheart, Sasuke Uchiha; and live with him happily ever after.
She slid her half-lidded gaze to Sasuke, who was standing to the right of her and scowling something awful. He was glaring shiftily at Naruto, ignoring the pink-haired girl beside him as he always had. Naruto, too, was glaring over the top of her head; his teeth were bared and his arms were folded across his chest as he tried to pour all of his loathing for Sasuke into a single gaze.
If looks could kill… Sakura thought; she would have smiled, but even the fact that Naruto was just reacting to Sasuke's mere presence was heart-breaking. She let out an involuntary whimper as she took it all in: Sasuke's childish frown; Naruto's toothy grimace; and her own happy, oblivious smile. Even Kakashi was smiling in the picture, which was more than could usually be said for him; his hands were placed on Naruto's and Sasuke's heads in a fatherly sort of way and his eye was crinkled into a smile that was almost a laugh.
She sniffled. They were all so happy. And yet… it had all been destroyed. Just like that.
Well… perhaps it hadn't been so sudden. Looking back, Sakura cursed herself for the millionth time; why hadn't they noticed that Sasuke was so power-hungry? Surely they had noticed the signs, for there had been plenty of signs… Wasn't their first clue when he told them straight off that his ambition was to kill a certain man? Why hadn't they done something?
The questions chased each other around Sakura's head but, as always, there was no end in sight. They raced around in circles, mocking her for her own obliviousness… her own naivety.
But she couldn't keep doing this… not now, when she was already so angry. What she needed was some… some interaction. Female interaction, of course; she had had enough of the other half of the population to last her a lifetime.
She slipped off of her bed and into her sandals. She hesitated before tearing a piece of paper out of her unused diary; wasn't it part of the agreement that he shouldn't be bothered if she doesn't tell him where she's going? She pondered this for a moment but quickly decided that his reaction would be worth it. Smirking, she scribbled a note onto the scrap before dropping it onto her bed. She then propped open the window and slid out of it, landing on the roof and shutting the window soundlessly behind her.
(…)
Having already partaken in the customary self-loathing that came after every fight or flashback Kakashi had, he deemed the time elapsed since his argument with Sakura enough for her to vent her anger into some passionate pillow-punching (an act he encouraged much more than Kakashi-punching). Groaning as he always did when made to remove himself from the comfort of his own bed, he shuffled lazily over to his bedroom door. He fumbled with the lock for a moment before pushing the door open and making his way over to Sakura's bedroom. The door was still closed, as was to be expected. He took a deep, readying breath and knocked twice, calling out, "Sakura?"
Unsurprisingly, there was no response. Less predictably, though, he could hear no crying. He pressed his ear against the door but picked up no sound.
"Sakura?"
Concerned, he tried to detect her chakra. Nothing. His eye widened as he realized what had happened.
He kicked open the door angrily to find an empty bed. He strode over to it, snatching up the torn piece of paper lying discarded on top of it.
Kakashi
Ran away from home. If you come after me, it'll only prove my point.
Sakura
Needless to say, the frustrated scream that followed could be heard throughout the entire apartment complex as Kakashi crushed the note in his palm.
Somewhere on a lonely street near the Yamanaka Flower Shop, Hanano Sakura was grinning.
