17th November 2009
Rating: T
09. Poison
Kakashi was a prime example of a Good Shinobi. He had abstinence down to perfection. He was not interested in gambling, he was not all that interested in sex (outside literature), and he had no predilection for any substance that could harm his health, be it smoking, drug abuse or alcohol consumption.
In all the years Sakura had known her sensei, she'd never known him to dabble in anything even remotely risqué, although she couldn't quite call him a prude. He was simply not interested. The only way to get alcohol down his throat was to tell him it was tangy fruit punch.
"It's tangy fruit punch," Naruto said at the beginning of the evening. "You'll like it."
"It smells suspiciously like alcohol," he replied, sniffing the beverage.
"Yeah, because alcohol is fermented fruit!" Naruto rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, it's completely non-alcoholic. I read the bottle and everything."
Kakashi was far too trusting, or maybe he was just too tired to argue. He started to drink, and his students watched with delight as their sensei became inebriated for the first time in their lives and possibly the first time in his life.
But Naruto and Sasuke soon lost interest. Kakashi was not a fun drunk. He slowed down, and couldn't seem to find the energy to finish sentences or reply to questions.
"Kakashi-sensei! What's under your mask?" they would ask.
"Mask? I wear a mask?" would be his slow, slurred reply.
There was one upside to a drunk Kakashi, though. By the end of the evening he was stretched out snoring on Sasuke's sofa and completely unresponsive to even the hardest of pokes.
"This is it," Naruto said, and they all held their breath as he slowly reached out and began lowering Kakashi's mask.
As one, they released their breath.
"Well," Sakura said.
"Hm," Sasuke grunted.
"He looks a bit like that guy from accounting," Naruto remarked.
"Oh yeah," the other two murmured in agreement. "He does a bit."
The evening wore out and Sasuke eventually kicked them all onto the curb. Naruto and Sakura were left to decide between them who would take Kakashi home, and since Sakura lived closer to him, the responsibility fell on her. He couldn't walk in a straight line very well, so she wound up holding him by hauling his arm over her shoulders, and though he wasn't light, at least they made relatively swift progress.
"No, no," he mumbled, forcing them to stop. "I need to sit down."
"But we're nearly at your apartment," Sakura pointed out. She could see his window from here.
"I'll be sick if I take another step."
So she slipped him down into the shuttered doorway of a shop and sat down beside him as he folded his arms against his knees and hung his head against them. Not knowing quite what to do, she settled for rubbing his back lightly. Perhaps this was why he avoided alcohol? If it made Sakura nauseous like this, she wouldn't find the appeal in the stuff either, and now she felt a little guilty for helping to trick him.
"Will you be ok tonight?" she asked anxiously.
"Eventually," he mumbled into his arms.
She resumed rubbing his back.
"I don't like being drunk," he said at length.
Sakura sighed. "I can see," she murmured. "Are you always like this?"
"Nowadays." He leant back and the back of his head hit the metal grilling over the doorway. "I'm not as young as I used to be."
"The same could be said for anyone."
He inhaled deeply and held his breath. "I think I'm going to throw up, Sakura."
"Oh – h-hold on!" She scrambled away and seized the nearest empty plant pot that was lined up outside the shop and quickly shoved it into Kakashi's arms. He took down his mask, but he didn't wretch… instead he simply sat there, looking ill and unhappy with his eyes closed and his breathing deep. Even in the dim light of the streetlamps, he looked washed out.
"I'm never going to trust you kids again," he grumbled. "Ever."
"Sorry, sensei." She reached up and stroked his hair and in what she hoped was consoling.
She was slightly surprised when his head dropped onto her shoulder and he gave a soft whimper. "Sakura, you're a medic. Make it go away."
There was probably alcohol in his blood stream, like poison, and she could probably, theoretically, extract it in the same manner as poison. But… "I would have to cut your veins open."
He sagged more heavily against her.
"Maybe if you lie down you'll feel better?" she suggested.
Sakura didn't offer her lap, but he took it anyway as a pillow. She blushed slightly as his head settled on her thighs. He looked too pathetic, lying there in the middle of the street at night, clutching a flowerpot to his chest and a pained frown marring his brow to push him off. So instead she smoothed her hand over that brow and felt his hot, clammy skin beneath her cool fingertips, and gradually the frown faded.
"Poor sensei," she sighed softly.
"Poor me," he agreed.
And there he went to sleep.
