Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this one out! I've had some real life stuff come up this week that put a strain on my writing time, but things seem to have settled down for now. I should have the next one up by late Monday night, but no guarantees. Anyway, let me know what you think.
Prompt: Hold - Superchick (Kakashi's P.O.V)
Word Count: 1855
Warnings: some language, possible spoilers up to chapter 636
The title is in reference to one of the objects in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. The item allows the user to see things not visible to the naked eye.
A special thank you to my impromptu sort-of-beta, Naeryna! She has not seen the written chapters - so any mistakes you see are mine! - but she helped talk me through my outline to make sure I wasn't working some plot-hole-no-jutsu.
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto. I am merely playing in the sandbox he has created. I am most definitely not receiving any monetary compensation for my child's play.
ooOoo
Tell me that You'll help me fight this fight
Tell me that You won't leave me alone in this
- Superchick –
ooOoo
He never really got used to it, the all-consuming void. Pitch black, the shade of oblivion, so negated his physical senses – sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch – that it became a sense in its own right, heavy and pervasive. Sense of self was the one thing he had left, his only recourse against the darkness. So the man had retreated further and further into his own psyche, reliving memories and trying his best to hope for a future. But there was only so much an imagination could do with a total lack of stimuli and Kakashi was amazed that he had managed to survive the monotony.
Perhaps that had been Obito's intent.
Retribution.
Kakashi found it a bit poetic. Regardless of the outcome of the war, whether the tides of battle favored the alliance or the Uchiha madmen, the result for him would be the same. If the infinite tsukiyomi had worked, Obito would have left him to rot, a preserved relic of another time and place. His former teammate may have even came back to the kamui dimension periodically, to gloat over his victories and rub salt in the ever-open wounds. But the cruel beauty of the situation was that even if Obito lost, even if the united shinobi prevailed, Kakashi would still meet the same fate.
Unending years to dwell on his mistakes.
The man wasn't sure he deserved anything less, but he was thankful that rescue was coming. In fact, it came every evening - a petite, pink package – to chase away the tedium.
ooOoo
A flood of cheerful color rushed into his mind, bombarding his weakened eyes, and he winced as his sight adjusted. Sakura came bounding in shortly thereafter, all beaming smiles and excess energy. Her quick strides spoke of success and her posture, squared shoulders and relaxed hands, was charged with confidence. The girl looked at him, unwavering, and Kakashi knew before she even opened her mouth to speak.
"I did it!" she exclaimed with a fist to the air. "I activated that damn sharigan."
"I knew you would," he replied simply, his pleased smirk hidden in fabric.
Her reaction to his affirmation took him by surprise. The girl didn't speak at first. Instead she looped an arm around her middle, grasping fingers curled over her forearm opposite, while she drew abstract shapes into the carpet with the toe-edge of her sandal. Reclining against the now-present desk, his lips fell into a thin line and he buried his hands within his pockets, appraising the conflictions in her expression. The corners of her mouth had increased their curve, stretching her cheeks to bursting with pride and pleasure, but her eyes shifted to take in the ground at her feet. After a couple beats, Sakura raised her head just a bit, cocked at an unsure angle, and met his gaze. Irises, open and innocent, were dilated with lingering doubt.
"Really?"
The man nodded, sharp and sure, and he crossed his arms. "Yeah."
She let out a breath, deep and sustained, and seemed to deflate along with her lungs. There was no longer any trace of melancholy or reservation in her features though, rather a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Sakura turned her back to him, pulling aside the quilt to expose the sheets, and then rearranged the mass of pillows. Before plonking down and burying herself into the padded coziness of the bed, the girl stretched her arms over her head and twisted her neck to and fro, vertebrate snapping back into place with disturbingly loud pops, to relieve the pressure that had transferred from body to subconscious. Once comfortably nestled, she propped her head up on her elbow and gave him a grin.
"Good."
Tension left his body. He hadn't even been aware of the contraction of his muscles - the tightness running through his back, neck, and biceps - until her smile cut the cord of stress. Habit had him reaching for the back of his neck, scratching his fingers absently through the hairs on his nape as if the action could tear away his discomfort. Kakashi didn't like it, seeing firsthand the fruit of his former neglect. Now that the man was truly observing Sakura, the qualities that he found sometimes present in her countenance gnawed at him. And he knew, felt the truth boil in his blood, that he was the one who planted the seeds of insecurities that she did not deserve to have.
His mistakes had hurt her.
Guilt could turn thoughts morbid with a horrifying ease and Kakashi had no desire to return to the near-craziness that marred his time before her radiance infiltrated in mind. It was not something he needed to dwell on, not when the dark would be soon returning. A change in direction – highlighting her successes rather than his failures - was in order.
"So, are you going to give me the details?"
Sakura's face contorted into something between anger and disgust, but the intensity of feeling in her voice was fairly mild. "Sasuke was a complete ass. He literally insulted everything about me, all in that damn monotone voice of his. I mean, I know he had a purpose and that purpose was ultimately to help me, but–" the girl cut herself off with a fierce growl, "he didn't have to do it so thoroughly."
"It takes intense emotion–"
"Yeah, yeah," Sakura waved off his rebuttal, "I know. But the funny thing was that most of what he said didn't really matter to me. Not anymore. Sure, I got a little angry and that helped me bottle up some of energy I required. He was damn cruel, after all. But after living through the war and everything, all those things he brought up just didn't carry much weight."
Kakashi inclined his head in understanding. "Facing death puts life into perspective."
"Exactly. All those things, that crap that used to bother me so much, just seemed so trivial in comparison."
"So then, from one sharigan user to another, what was your trigger?"
"Uh-uh, Sensei, that's a secret," she chided with a coy lilt in her voice and half-drawn lids. His cheeks flushed under his mask, surprised by her unexpected retort, and he had to turn away to keep her from catching on. In the small moment he took to compose himself, Sakura had slumped fully into her pillow and serious lines had begun to burrow into her forehead. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Kakashi drawled.
"What changed?"
"What do you mean?"
She eyed him carefully, only allowing herself a slight hesitation before clarifying. "Why do you believe in me now?"
Air bit into his teeth as his lungs expelled the oxygen from his body and his heart rate increased exponentially, flooding his head with the rush of blood. It took a few long seconds for him to get his bearings. That was not a question that Kakashi was expecting. Not from Sakura. The man reached for the chair at his side, twisting it in a quarter circle which would enable him to sit facing her, and hung his head in his hands.
So much for escaping his failures.
After composing himself for a second time, this instance being much less agreeable than the first, Kakashi set his obsidian gaze on her own. "Honestly?"
"Yes."
"I knew you'd be a good kunoichi," he took a deep breath, adjusting his limbs in the chair, and continued. "Your chakra control has always been above average and you're very intelligent. I figured after a few years, you'd pass your chuunin exam with flying colors. But that's all I really expected."
"I see." The sound trembled, muted with emotion, as the girl forced it over her lips.
"I don't think you do," his voice mimicked her soft tones. "When I looked at you, I could see that you didn't have the physicality or genetic make-up to get you further than chuunin. But I knew that what you did have would get you every bit as far as I could get you. You didn't need my guidance to become a strong shinobi – you were more than capable of doing it on your own – and that was something I immediately understood when I met you. It's never been about belief, Sakura. I've always believed in you. The real issue was that for all my abilities, I was blind to your true potential. I failed you, not the other way around.
"And it's only been during the past couple years that I've been able to see my mistake. That is what changed."
Sakura sat up, dangling her legs off the side of the bed, and her hands clutched tightly to the hem of her shirt. Glossy eyes studied him while her nose wrinkled up with her bewilderment. "Oh. That wasn't what I was expecting."
"Sakura, I am sorry." His head drooped, heavy with regret. "And I'm glad you were able to find a sensei that could see the latent talent I missed."
The creak of mattress springs and the padding of feet across the small span of distance between her and him had barely registered in Kakashi's ears before her arms were around his neck, earnest and accepting in their embrace. "Thank you, Sensei."
"Please don't call me that," he mumbled into the hair that shrouded his face. "I don't deserve it."
Sakura tightened her hold. Exhalations brushed against his jawline as she adjusted her head, bringing her mouth close to his ear, and a few stray drops of saline dampened his collar. She gently cleared her throat – once, twice, and then thrice – and the vibrations travelled the length of his spine, causing him to shiver.
"I will call you Kakashi from now on," she whispered, "if you'll accept my forgiveness."
The man pulled her close, folding his arms around her slim shape in a non-verbal signal of his assent, and secreted his face into the feather-soft abundance of her hair. "Okay."
"And you haven't failed me, Kakashi," the girl breathed, pressing her forehead to his. "You were my trigger."
Sakura drew her legs up, relaxing into his larger frame, and let the fatigue of the day take her into a deeper rest. Her scent, feminine and sweet, filled his nostrils like calming incense. The chill of a long-held burden seeped out of his pores and the fire of release took its place, lending strength his bones. Kakashi clung to her, lighter than he had been in years, until her awakening to reality left him in the darkness.
But the when the oblivion came, it no longer bothered the man. The void had lost its stifling power, released from the weight of his own darkness, because he had received her absolution.
Sakura had become his salvation, the necessary curative for the ailments of his mind and the tool of redemption for his body. And in the absence of the blinding regret, a realization – new and unsought awareness – was able to filter through.
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Kakashi never wanted to let her go.
