Saving Faith

Chapter Seven: A Future with a Past


The sunlight woke her.

A single beam dared to push through the small gap that perpetually hung between the linen shades, tickling across her cheek alongside a random lock of hair. It was gentle and playful, as though it simply sought to coax her out of her sleep without reminding her of the long list of things she'd have to do.

"You forgot to draw the curtains again," she mumbled sleepily, burying her face further in her pillow in hopes the light would catch the hint and make its way elsewhere. Instead, a strong arm snaked around her waist to pull her close, and though the adventurous sunbeam did seem to frolic away from her face, his breath tickling into her ear had just as much the rousing effect.

"But you forgive me." And she did, she always did. There was something about him that made him so affable, so lovable, and it wasn't just the way his calloused hands knew their way across her skin, or that his lips always did the most damage to her resolve when they were stationed at the hollow of her throat. She always forgave him well before things got out of hand, yet they never failed to.

This morning, however, she was at least attempting to keep them on schedule and when his breath whispered its way across her collarbone she opened her eyes…

…only to find herself completely alone.

Beside her, the bed was empty. The other pillowcase was unwrinkled. The curtains still sported that gap and perhaps the sunlight truly had woken her from her dreams for it painted the sheets like striping the amber onto a white tiger. She should replace them, she always told herself, but she never did. She probably never would.

The apartment was the same as it had ever been. Decorated in neutral shades, the only truly personal touch to the place was a worn but comfortable black couch that dominated the too-small living room. As Yuugao wandered through it listlessly – it was still much too early for her debriefing meeting – she only now realized that she'd never noticed the drab décor before. Hayate, he had been the vibrancy in the place. Even now, as she rested a hand on the back of the sofa, she could remember all the times he'd have their friends over, everyone clustered in a tight circle with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces.

And then the coughing had started, and the company had dwindled, and even the furniture began to forget what it was like to be used and loved. If only she could be so lucky.

She needed a shower. It was a calming monotony, the steady stream of the droplets against her skin. Her arm still throbbed when she tried to use it to reach for the soap but she could ignore it better under the soothing onslaught of the steam and hot water. To think, once upon a time bathing would have been another activity infused with laughter, but now as soon as she turned the faucet off the bathroom was cold, lifeless, empty. Two towels still hung from the rack just as two ANBU vests were in the closet, and two pairs of boots were at the door. Some things she couldn't bring herself to put away.

A knock on the door saved her from further misery at the hands of her bittersweet memories. It was Anko, looking just as headstrong and earnest as she had those years ago when they'd been on the same team. She invited herself in and proceeded to make her way straight to the kitchen and the refrigerator. "What, you don't have anything to eat in here?"

Yuugao refrained from pointing out that she'd only just gotten home, instead adopting one of those characteristic smiles and opening a cupboard where a few cups and a tin of teabags resided. "I have tea."

That must have been fine for the other young woman had simply resigned herself to it with a sigh, retreating to the living room and flopping on that couch that had been so neglected of late. "I always loved this thing. I saw it for sale first, you know. But Hayate had to have it, he said, and you know how he was with things like that."

For a split-second Anko seemed chagrined that she might have stepped on her hostess' toes for being nonchalant in using 'was,' but Yuugao simply continued making tea. She didn't begrudge those of her friends who had managed to move on. She envied them, to a certain extent.

"If I remember correctly, you don't like sugar," was all the younger woman said as she joined her guest, handing over one of the cups she'd just brewed.

"Thanks." Anko always seemed to be in a rush, like she was expecting something magnificent to happen in the next minute or so and she had to be ready. Even now she was fidgety, and she downed the contents of her cup in one big swallow. Not to mention, the anxiety made her almost callously blunt. "So Genma was saying you're in a tough spot and I figured I'd come by and check it out. Those guys are worthless when it comes to actually listening."

Yuugao simply smiled. She didn't agree. But then again, Anko's definition of listening was probably far different from her own.

"Don't worry, he wasn't blabbing about it like he usually does when he gets drunk. This time he was all quiet and sullen. It's how I knew something was really up. And my god, Yuugao, what's with you? How can you live like this? I saw Hayate's boots by the door still. Don't you think it's time to clean up a little?"

While not wholly unexpected, this certainly wasn't what she had planned before heading into an inevitably tense and exhaustive debriefing in a matter of hours. Yet Yuugao said nothing, simply donning that same smile and even giving something of a demurring shrug as she clutched her teacup tightly in both hands. "I do need new curtains."

Anko stared in disbelief. "New curtains? You're kidding, right? All you're doing here is wallowing in your memories of a certain somebody. Now, it probably isn't the worst thing you could be doing but it also isn't healthy."

"Memories don't have to be a bad thing, Anko."

"Oh, the cut the bullshit, Yuugao. I know as well as anyone there's a reason you never come home anymore. Whatever you choose to do is your own business, I'm not going to try and be your mother and say you shouldn't take certain missions like those boys might, but you've got to own up to the fact that all of this," she gestured wildly around the apartment, "is why you never come back! Look at this place. It's like some shrine. It's almost creepy. What else am I going to find if I go poking around?"

She said nothing. Whatever she could say certainly wouldn't appease the increasingly-incensed Anko.

"You know what, you're right. Don't answer that. Maybe you just need to get a whole new place altogether. Fresh start, whatever other things they always say. You never know, it could work."

At that, Yuugao finally deemed it time to intervene. "Anko, even if I move somewhere else, Konoha holds memories. And…there are times I don't want to forget." She could be honest, even if she'd never be quite as frank.

"Look, we all have pasts. I'm not saying anything's wrong with it. But dwelling in them? That's where it gets dangerous. Closure, maybe that's what you need. Go after the bastards that did it or something. I'm sure there are still some rotten sand-nin somewhere."

All she did was give Anko a disapproving look. As if this was supposed to be better than hearing the men lecture her on taking dangerous missions.

"Alright, fine. That's probably not the best route, even I can see that. But it's never felt right with any of us, you know. The not knowing what happened or who really killed him and all that, I mean. So you aren't alone in that."

Yuugao wasn't sure if she should be amused by this point. Here Anko was assuming just about everything concerning how she must have felt, and it couldn't have been more wrong. At least it wasn't making her angry, that was a blessing.

"Okay, I get it. You want me to leave. That's fine. I'll come by later. Maybe get you from that debriefing meeting so we can restock your fridge for while you're here at least."

So she'd known about the meeting all along, and still chosen to ambush her this morning? Now Yuugao was slightly annoyed. Of course, none of it showed on her face, which maintained that passive, vacant smile.

"At least let me take the boots, Yuugao. I mean, come on. They're just boots. Standard issue, nothing special about them. Plus they're just in the way here in the hall."

For a moment, she wanted to say no simply to get the other woman out the door, but that wasn't her way. In the end she acquiesced with the slightest hint of a shrug.

Afterward, she sat on the same couch Anko had been praising, staring at the empty spot where the boots had been. Even that slight change made things feel so different—not bad, just different, almost as though coming home would be like entering a strange, new place. For so long she'd been used to seeing two of everything. Perhaps she'd gotten selfish.

When she finally rose to rinse the cups out in the sink, she realized how much easier that had been with Anko's help. Granted, they'd never been the best of friends and barely even understood each other half the time, but removing those boots was one of the best things the woman could have ever done. What Yuugao needed was someone else to have moved on to show her the way.

But that, she chided herself, was simply weakness talking and it was the last thing she had room for in her life right now. She had that debriefing meeting to attend to. At least it would take her mind off things…for a little while.


At three minutes until the hour, Yuugao was already seated inside Tsunade's office, awkwardly testing the grip of her injured arm as Shizune fussed making tea.

"Do we wait?" Shizune could do more than make tea, it seemed.

"Not anymore. If he wanted to be here, he would have been here. This matter supercedes his penchant for tardiness." Tsunade already sounded upset. Yuugao could only imagine what the news she had to deliver would do.

"Whose penchant for tardiness?"

All three women were shocked to see Kakashi shuffling in, with a minute still left on the clock before the meeting time was scheduled. He said nothing to explain his punctuality, dragging the chair beside Yuugao a few paces away so he could be seated in the third point of a triangle, rather than at her side. Detached, as always.

"Yours," Shizune answered simply, apparently thankful to have more opportunity to fuss over tea.

"What a pity the only time you're on time it doesn't count because everyone was here before you, Kakashi," Tsunade commented dryly. "In any case, we're ready to begin. Shizune, close the doors and see to it that no one disturbs us."

The assistant hastened to the doors, quickly securing them and even remaining on the outside to ensure no one would get past her. It seemed even she wasn't to be privy to the information Yuugao would be divulging about her mission. Or maybe the aide already knew, or maybe she'd be listening at the door. Yuugao thought she could see the shadow of two feet looming conspicuously beneath the keyhole.

"Now, Yuugao, please tell me your mission wasn't a complete failure."

Yuugao perched the cup of tea Shizune had prepared on the corner of Tsunade's desk. She wouldn't touch it again. "I was able to find the girl. They call her Suku, but she prefers Retsujo. She is heavily guarded. Orochimaru, however, does not seem to have made his move yet."

"Suku… What is her lineage?"

"I'm not sure. I believe it is a pet name, of sorts. Short for—"

"Sukuinushi," Kakashi finally chimed in. He was clever, even Tsunade had to give him that much. Though with the way the blonde woman glared at him, he'd be wise to keep it to himself from then on.

"Savior. And heroine. It figures. You didn't engage her, correct? Your mission was reconnaissance."

Yuugao shook her head, idly fisting her weakened hand again. "I kept my cover. I was just another civilian, as far as anyone I had contact with was concerned."

"Then why would they send eight men after you, Yuugao? Surely something must have happened. Think. Think very carefully."

Again, she shook her head. There was no easy way to say what came next, and she tightened her fingers lest they tremble. "Nothing happened. But…" Her focus briefly shifted to Kakashi, though he was pointedly looking elsewhere. Leave it to him for that. "I believe I was betrayed."

Even Tsunade was silent, her teacup clattering back to its saucer. Yuugao thought she saw the shadow at the door scuffle back a few paces. Shizune probably had been listening up to that point, possibly more to keep an ear on Tsunade's health than the status of the mission.

Before the Hokage could regain her composure, the raven-haired ANBU continued. "I was quiet leaving. I waited until just before dawn, when only merchants and peddlers enter and leave the village. But as soon as they were upon me, I knew I was more than outmatched, I was—" For a moment she was at a loss for how to explain, but ultimately she pressed on. "They knew how I fought, Tsunade-sama. They knew my jutsu, they knew my training, they knew which hand I used to wield my ninjato…"

Beside her it finally seemed as though Kakashi was paying attention.

Tsunade, on the other hand, remained in shock. "But how?" Yet she kept herself from saying more, instead abruptly rising to her feet and hollering for Shizune to come back inside. The young woman immediately arrived already carrying a stack of scrolls. Yes, she had been listening.

"We'll be getting to the bottom of this. I will personally get to the bottom of this. Yuugao, the hospital staff told me your arm still needs some mending. I expect you to take good care of that limb. You're no good to me at half your strength. Enjoy some time recuperating. Stay off the radar, stay in Konoha."

Yuugao slowly got to her feet, offering nothing but an obliging nod. As much as her heart rebelled at the thought of being holed up with her haunting memories, what she'd said to her former captain at the memorial was true; she wasn't looking for death.

"Kakashi, keep an eye on her."

This time the copy ninja didn't begrudge the order.

"Oh, and both of you, all of you," Tsunade's focus skimmed across Shizune as well, "do not breathe a word of this to anyone. Anyone. Do you hear me?"

Another nod signaled Yuugao's compliance, and she was quickly taking her leave. She could sense the hushed steps of Kakashi behind her, and only once they were out of the corridor, out of the building, turning onto the narrow street did she break the silence.

"I'll be fine, Kakashi-sempai."

"Will you, Yuugao-san?"

She stopped. Would it solve all her problems to tell him the truth? That she was lonely and miserable cooped up in her apartment despite that it was the only place for her to go? No, it wouldn't. Would it make her feel better? Probably not. Somehow she was certain he already knew.

When she continued walking, he matched her stride. Hands pocketed, gaze lazily fixed ahead, he was the picture of tranquil and stoic, while she knew her usually placid façade was beginning to wear thin.

"I don't need a babysitter," she finally opted to say, though this time she didn't even slow her steps. Where she was going was anyone's guess. A niggling thought whispered the impossible notion that maybe he knew.

"Iruka would be better suited for that than me."

"Or a drinking partner."

"Genma."

"Or a listening ear."

A pause. "Kurenai, maybe."

"Then what are you good for, Kakashi-sempai?" She was exasperated. The question came out a bit too harsh for her liking, but she couldn't take it back.

Oddly enough, he smiled. She could only see the way his good eye crinkled, and the crease it cut across his mask, but she knew he was smiling. Or smirking. "Nothing. But if I had asked you, I had a feeling that's what you'd tell me you needed."

It was refreshing, amusing. It was heart-wrenching that he knew her so well and kept such a cold front of formality between them. She wasn't sure how to take it. She wasn't sure she wanted to take it at all.

"Should I laugh?" At least her tone made up for the edge to her earlier snap.

Kakashi shrugged. "I don't care if you laugh. Just don't cry. Iruka would give me hell for making you cry. Genma, too."

Now she did laugh. "I'm lucky to have people who care so much."

But he didn't. "Yes, you are."

She sighed, footsteps coming to a halt again. They were on the corner of the main market street, no doubt where Anko would attempt to drag her later. While she knew she could inadvertently be putting herself in 'harm's' way, Yuugao didn't care.

"Don't lecture me again on how I need to take care of myself."

"Considering your betrayal, I know you're smart enough to see how much caution you need to take in the future, Yuugao-san."

"Oh, don't play that game with me. Just tell me what you think, Kakashi-sempai. I'm too old to be coddled any longer. And I'm not one of your students that you're supposed to guide me to make my own decisions. If you think I should quit, just say it."

Whether he was frowning or not she couldn't tell, but he definitely wasn't smiling. "I think if your position in the unit has been compromised, you need to reevaluate things."

"You think I should quit." Now she was sounding like a child, but she couldn't help it.

"If that's best for your fellow shinobi."

Of course he would make it about everyone else. She could have been mad about it, but instead she was simply defeated. Suddenly, she could remember that moment when she'd been surrounded, matched and overmatched on every front because the enemy was one step ahead. To think it could happen to any of her peers formed a cold pit in her stomach.

"Don't ask me to quit. Even Hayate never did that."

"He would now."

"But he's not here!"

A strong hand had fisted around her uninjured arm, hauling her out of the middle of the road to the shade of a nearby corner. "Yuugao-san, I know this has been hard on you and I can't do a damn thing about that. And even though I'm not your captain any longer, I can advise you to consider the consequences. I'm not about to broadcast what happened to you but if anyone else knew they'd be telling you the same."

He was right. In all the years she'd known him, she'd learned that he usually was. This time she wanted to hate him for it but found that she couldn't. She hated herself instead, for being emotional in the first place. Perhaps Anko had been right; living in her apartment, living among her memories, it had gotten unhealthy.

"Anko came this morning," she suddenly found herself saying, though for what it was worth it did cue the release of his grip on her arm. "She took away his boots."

His gaze darkened before it fell away. "It's been four years."

"As if that makes a difference." He would understand.

"Time does."

"How much time?" There wasn't enough time in the whole world, as far as she was concerned. Even now she ached for Hayate because the first time a man she trusted had touched her since him it was nothing more than a grab and a shove out of the thoroughfare.

"A lot," he conceded, though he looked at her now. There was something akin to apology in his glance, but she felt it wasn't really meant for her.

"A lot of what?" chimed in Anko's voice, and Yuugao sighed. It was an unwelcome but inevitable intrusion. Somehow she hadn't truly thought this moment she was sharing with the silver-haired ninja was ever going to last.

"Yuugao-san needs a lot of rest," Kakashi said simply, backing away so Anko could join the conversation more easily. Only then did Yuugao realize he'd still been standing so close. "Make sure she gets it, will you, Anko?"

"Sure thing, but you're welcome to come along, you know. We're just getting some groceries for her place, there's this stall—" By the time Anko had pointed it out, Kakashi was gone. The woman arched a brow. "What's gotten into him?"

Yuugao sighed again. "I don't know," she lied.


Fin.

A/N: Another grossly overdue update. But my muse has returned, and I fully intend to get this back into gear. Hopefully everyone can bear with me. Again, it lacked a thorough beta reading, so anyone who spots anything please, please, please! Tell me so I can amend it immediately.

I'm not very sure I'm happy with this chapter. But I realized it's more of a segue than anything, despite its length. Fingers crossed I still did the characters justice, especially Anko who plays a much more pivotal role.