This was one of the most difficult chapters to write, as it was the only one I added to make people happy. The original version was much shorter, totaling a little over 2200 words, but I felt that people might be dissatisfied if some sort of reaction from Kakashi were excluded. For this reason, I discarded my plan to include this in the final chapter and gave it its own. Hopefully, people won't be disappointed by its contents! Personally, I still don't like it much... oh well. I'm publishing this early because I want to wash my hands of the affair... this one has been giving me trouble for quite some time! There will be one more chapter after this and an epilogue. Aah! (Oh, and the surprise is the main character of the chapter!)

Kakashi was walking with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Having worked maintaining outward calm down to a science he cast the illusion of tranquil indifference via his droopy eye and face, masked both literally and figuratively. Only the slump of his shoulders was not staged (although they did add nicely to the overall effect). He chanced a glance at the sky: overcast, but without snow. Is that normal? He struggled to remember the date. It must be December, he decided, although a more specific answer was beyond him.

He sighed, counting backwards in his head. He hadn't been to Kurenai's apartment in a long time. In truth, he kind of avoided the place. Kurenai was one of his closest friends and he was welcome in her home without appointment, but all of the memories gathered and festered in the seemingly stagnant air of her apartment. Even though there was evidence of her single parenthood strewn everywhere, for some reason he still felt almost… claustrophobic in there, surrounded on all sides by the past. Upon reflection, this seemed absurd because Kurenai was much more grounded than he, but… Details aside, she was sadly a person he could experience only in small doses.

As he took a left turn, he sighed again. He really wasn't sure what to make of how Sakura had been acting recently. Occasionally he would see hints of the old Sakura, playful and sarcastic, but for the most part, she was becoming so… well, disenchanted, as if her heart was not in it. She left after having sex — sex lacking the spark and mutual passion of their first encounter — as disinterested and distracted as if they had just had a dull conversation over lunch. (Which, incidentally, up until a few weeks ago, they never, ever had.) Interacting with someone as sharp and charmingly emotional as Sakura had been the highlight of his day and a guaranteed way to cheery him up, but that had stopped.

At first he thought she was sick or that there was some anniversary he had missed (which normally wouldn't happen, given his talent at remembering unhappy occasions). Slowly, however, during his infrequent reprieves from missions, it became clear that Sakura wasn't going to get over this bout of melancholy in a matter of days. Naturally, Kakashi had started developing other suspicions.

After hours spent crouched in the limbs of a tree in some obscure country, lending one half of his attention to keeping an eye out for enemies and the other for working out the complications of his personal life, Kakashi finally made a tentative link between Sakura's increasing interest with his personal history (as it seemed to be all she could talk about these days) and the slow deterioration of their relationship— for no matter which angle Kakashi looked at the situation from, it was painfully clear that something was wrong. It was a pretty grand speculation, but the way she was acting — rarely raising her voice above a bored monotone and frowning all the time — she couldn't honestly be happy, and Kakashi was almost certain he knew why.

He couldn't remember the first time she asked about the movies— maybe not asked at all, but hey had come up and he had let the chance discussion slip from his mind. It held little relevance at first, but it kept coming up, and she was always asking him questions, focusing more on what had happened to him before than what was happening to him — to them — now. It wasn't as if he resented the questions; it was only natural that she should be curious, as he was a fairly enigmatic person and they were starting a relationship together. It was just that they started to build up, and he wasn't always comfortable answering about certain things. He intended to fill her in at his own pace, on his own terms— and the Sakura he knew, the Sakura he cared so much about and regarded with an affectionate adoration, would have accepted this, not calculated questions as a careful interrogator does, an eye always out for some new snippet, trying to disguise her disappointment when his answers were less than satisfactory.

Even after making the connection, Kakashi spent a lot of his energy trying to deny it. He had mocked himself, presenting logical alternatives as means of a counterargument. Despite the possible options, gut instinct led him to believe that this was the problem: Sakura's insatiable thirst for knowledge about him seemed to trump her desire to be with him. He wasn't sure if the movies had been directly involved. Although at Ichiraku he pretended to be confident that they had been taken out of the picture long ago, he had actually been questioning their survival for some time. On the other hand, they could just be a topic of conversation so attuned to Sakura's obsession that she loved scrounging for every detail of those, too.

And truly, he still had some doubts about his theory until she came over for dinner the night before. She was by far the worst he had ever seen her. While they were eating, he found himself actually struggling to make conversation with Sakura, grasping at straws before lapsing into awkward silences, something he hadn't experienced with her since she was in her early teens. And when they had sex, he knew she faked— if not her orgasm, then more than a few of those moans, which made his pumps all the harder and his kisses all the messier because, he realized (as they lay beside each other and he observed her almost bored expression with his Sharingan eye— the eye that was supposed to reveal all the answers to him), he was terribly, desperately, achingly afraid of losing her. And of all things, she had chosen to punctuate his mounting worries with a question — another motherfucking question — about Rin. Despite his misgivings, his shock, and his fear, he answered her— and then she had politely said her good-byes, gathered her clothes, and left. Never had that happened to Kakashi, and after mulling it over (while his body, on autopilot, experienced difficulties figuring out where he was supposed to stick his legs into the pants), he decided that she had gotten what she came there for and saw no further use for him at the moment.

As he navigated through the winding roads of Konoha, however, he grew irritated with himself for jumping to that conclusion. This could be bigger than you, Kakashi, he argued with himself. Don't get conceited.

Another piece of him countered. Why else would she have given you such a less-than-cordial good-bye?

He shook his head (imperceptibly to passerby, but monumentally inside his head, where it shook up all of his contradictory and unhappy thoughts). This, he reminded himself, is exactly why I'm going to Kurenai's. Sitting and talking with Kurenai could be hard— he always felt like they formed an incomplete triangle, the hypotenuse that once bonded the two legs with a common purpose (a common friendship) having been disconnected. Still, she was someone he could confide in and had developed quite the skill set when it came to dealing with relationships.

Besides, he thought as he rounded a final turn, she's the one with the tapes.

(…)

Kakashi stood in the entryway to Kurenai's apartment. He had just been informed that Kurenai was not at home and was now looking at Akio, surveying the child's bored features. Kakashi was reminded strongly of Asuma; Akio was the spitting image of him, from the spiky black hair to the extra appendage hanging idly from between his lips.

He glanced around the apartment behind Akio; it was actually pretty clean. Applauding Kurenai mentally, he returned his gaze to the boy. Leaning forward a bit, he squinted. "How old are you now?"

Akio sighed exasperatedly. "Uncle Kakashi," he said, "you ask me that every time you see me… couldn't you bother to keep track?"

Kakashi smiled, leaning back into his usual slouch. He watched Akio as an expectant pause hung in the air. Finally, Akio gave in.

"Nine."

Grinning, Kakashi said, "Now, that wasn't too hard, was it, Aki-kun?"

Akio scowled, eliciting a chuckle out of Kakashi. "So… how's the Academy going?"

Shrugging, Akio answered, "It's okay, but some of my teachers are really annoying. They don't" — here, his expression hardened and his lollipop bounced in time with his agitated words — "allow candy."

Kakashi nodded. "It just serves as a distraction."

Akio rolled his eyes. "You sound exactly like my mom," he said. He raised his voice and imitated his mother: "In my day, we were lucky enough to get candy once a year on Christmas!" (Privately, Kakashi felt that the shrill voice Akio had adopted was hardly accurate; he had always thought that Kurenai had a nice, deep voice.)

Mocking a pout, Kakashi said, "I hope my voice isn't that effeminate."

"Uncle Kakashi, you always use such big words." He rolled his eyes again. "I don't even know what that means."

Kakashi shook his head. "You're mother's right, though," he said. "I went years at a time without candy and hadn't even tasted a lollipop until I was ten."

Mortified, Akio accidentally let the lollipop fall from his gaping mouth where it landed on the carpet. Kakashi was sure he heard a primal, mournful moan as Akio crouched to pick up his fallen treasure. The boy straightened up, holding his wounded friend in front of his nose; Kakashi watched his eyebrows curl up on the insides in despair as he noticed all of the filth contaminating the lollipop's shiny red head.

As the boy dejectedly discarded the ruined candy into a nearby wastebasket, Kakashi sighed, hoping to sound sympathetic. "That's a shame."

"Yeah," Akio grumbled. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, staring glumly at the ground. "It was my last one."

"Ah…" Kakashi thought for a moment. "If you're good, Uncle Kakashi just might get you some more."

Akio's head snapped up, a spark of hope gleaming in his eye. Seeing this, Kakashi feigned reconsideration. "Well… Then again, candy is a real treat; I wouldn't want to spoil you…"

Face falling briefly, Akio quickly schooled his features into a cocky sort of mischief. Kakashi raised an eyebrow, intrigued; he had been expecting anger or despair. Akio crossed his arms. "How about a deal?"

Typical of a Sarutobi, Kakashi thought with a hint of nostalgia. Wants to make a compromise out of everything… or at least flaunt his own assets.

Kakashi mimicked his actions, folding his arms across his chest. His demeanor served as an invitation for Akio to present his proposition.

"Well, you know," Akio began, "my mother has one or two girlfriends you might be acquainted with…" He pretended to think. Snapping his fingers, he said, "That pink-haired girl, Sakura."

Kakashi kept himself from stiffening, but his muscles did tense a little. His expression remained smooth, however, prompting Akio to continue.

Casual as you please, Akio said, "Sakura's been coming around more lately, wanting to borrow some of my mother's movies." Kakashi did not like the emphasis he put on this word. He did not betray any outward feelings of excitement, but he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as his heart began beating a tattoo against his chest.

Akio continued, "I thought it was awfully suspicious how she was digging around in the closet like that… and she how she pretended she wasn't when she heard me coming." It was becoming harder and harder for Kakashi to keep a straight face— he was sure this was what he had been suspecting. "And I just had to go see what she was searching for— and I was very surprised when I came across some videos labeled with some very familiar names."

He finished, looking expectantly at Kakashi with his mouth twitching in a poorly concealed smirk. Kakashi did not usually like to stoop to bribery, but this was beyond the level most of his encounters of this kind went; this was far more than just idle gossip. He cupped his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking for a moment before offering, "I'll buy you four entire bags of lollipops."

Akio's lip curled in a triumphant smile. "I carry no obligations to a party that did not upkeep its end of a bargain, so you've got yourself a deal." He held out his hand and shook Kakashi's firmly before returning his hands to his pockets.

They exhaled simultaneously— Kakashi in anticipation and Akio in preparation. "Okay," he said, "Sakura had been in my mom's closet digging around for videos— I got suspicious, searched Mom's closet myself, and found some old tapes of my dad's… and some of them had your name on them."

Kakashi felt something like a deadened bolt shift inside of him, clicking into place as his suspicions were confirmed. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't just imagining the metallic click— behind him, someone was opening the door. He stepped out of the way and Kurenai was revealed, her eyebrows slightly raised.

"Hey Akitchan," she said, smiling at her son. "Hello, Kakashi." She nodded at the latter and closed the door behind herself. "Excuse me." She walked past Kakashi and into her kitchen to put her grocery bags down. Akio disappeared into his own room as Kakashi followed Kurenai.

"To what do I owe this surprise visit?" she asked.

Quietly, Kakashi said, "We need to discuss your movie collection."

Kurenai blinked but was otherwise unfazed, hands on her hips; she was a professional, after all. There was a very long moment of silence, during which the kitchen clock's ticks were conspicuously loud. Kakashi could see that Kurenai was doing what she did best: calculating.

Finally, after staring into his black eye for what could have been an eternity in Kakashi's uncharacteristic impatience, Kurenai spoke.

"What happened?"

Sighing heavily, Kakashi slumped into her kitchen chair, pushing up his headband to massage his scarred eye. Kurenai pulled up a chair next to him, waiting patiently for him to speak. "So she has seen them."

"Mm-hm."

Shit.

After a moment of stillness he sighed, leaning back in his chair and pushing his bangs out of his face. "Akio told me as much," he said, "but I guess that part of me hoped…" His voice trailed off. He could tell that Kurenai wanted to instinctively put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she refrained from doing so.

"So," Kakashi exhaled, "he didn't burn them?"

"Did you think he had?"

Kakashi shrugged. "I always thought it didn't matter," he explained. "I assumed I'd never see or hear of them again, as Asuma's bluff would be called if they were to resurface."

Kurenai ran a hand through her hair. "Asuma wasn't able to bring himself to do it."

Kakashi nodded. "I'm not surprised."

There was silence while Kakashi struggled to remember what Asuma caught on film. It had all been so long ago… twenty years, at least. His most distinct memory was Asuma coming to his apartment after Rin died, trying to employ some sort of "cinema therapy", as he later described it. Rather than helpful, Kakashi had found the experience invasive and even painful. He couldn't remember exactly what had been said, but whatever it was would have given Sakura insight to a much darker side of him.

Is that contributing to her cold shoulder? he wondered. Is she wary that the teenager in a deep state of depression is still lurking beneath the surface? He was, of course, because Kakashi retained pieces of every person he had been, but there was no danger of that Kakashi emerging. No, Kakashi had moved on— he was dating Sakura now, wasn't he? Didn't that serve as evidence that he had at least come to terms with Rin's death? He shook his head, returning his attention to Kurenai.

"So what has she seen?" He posed the question in a way meant to encourage conversation. He hoped his efforts to be casual about this weren't too transparent to a trained eye like Kurenai's, but he was fairly confident he was more practiced than she. "There's the 'therapy' tape," he said, casting his gaze around the room. "And one where I'm with Rin…"

His voice fell with his mouth into a frown. He remembered, now, the time when Asuma barged into his apartment uninvited while he and Rin were making out on the couch. He had been very angry that Asuma had interrupted because it had almost been a very important step in his and Rin's relationship; they had almost had sex, coming closer than they ever had (or ever would again). His frown deepened as he considered the possible effect this could have had on Sakura. Would seeing him passionately entangled with another woman somehow trigger jealousy?

No, he argued with himself. That is absurd. Sakura was simply not that juvenile. Befuddled by all of these variables, he redirected his frown to Kurenai.

"Other than that," he said, "and maybe a lazy afternoon or two with the guys, there's nothing else, right?"

He watched Kurenai's reaction, waiting for her nod of confirmation, but was surprised and disturbed to see a flicker of contradiction in her crimson eyes. She immediately rearranged her features into passive acceptance, but while she was a kunoichi, she was not as accomplished an actress as Kakashi was an actor, and he knew the signs of a lie when he saw them.

Kurenai nodded. "Yeah, that's it." Seeing through her façade of innocence, Kakashi leaned forward and fixed her with a hard stare. Kurenai seemed to realize that trying to lie was a waste of their time, so she bit her lip, appearing to be thinking hard. Perched on the edge of his seat, Kakashi waited while she chewed on her words.

Eventually, she said, "Asuma… added films that were not his own to his collection." Kakashi's eyes narrowed fractionally. Hesitantly, she continued. "He may have taken a tape he thought would answer some of his questions…"

Growing agitated in his impatience and mounting sense of dread, he growled, "What, Kurenai, what did he take?"

There was a pause as the atmosphere teetered dangerously on a paper-thin line, to be tipped either way by Kurenai's next words. She let out a deep, shuddering breath. "He stole from the hospital, Kakashi— he took Rin's death."

Shit.

The ticking of the clock, so loud in his ears as he waited for Kurenai's answer, seemed to stop. An image of Rin lying on the hospital bed, drenched with sweat as her body tried to flush out its toxins, flashed into his mind. Sakura saw that, he thought. Sakura watched Rin die. She had seen one of the most horrific moments of his life captured on film.

What the hell was Asuma thinking?!

Kurenai tried to soften the harsh blow of the truth. Reaching out an arm, she said his name softly. "Kakashi."

Kakashi drew his hand back; it hovered over hers as he wondered, at a loss, what to do with it, before he stood up and slid it into his pocket. Fighting the tremble threatening to tear his words into pieces, he asked, "When did Sakura get her hands on those tapes?" How long has Sakura been in my presence and compared me to the hysterical teenager depicted in that tape? How long as she been learning bits and pieces of my life by which all further encounters are affected?

Kurenai swallowed back the shake in her voice. "I think Sakura got the first in early November and has been 'borrowing' them since."

"I've seen some very… enlightening presentations." Sakura's words from the night before rang in his ears. Mentally, he traced Sakura's behavior back to early November— and, with an unpleasant lurch of the stomach, he realized that mid-November was when they started dating. She had come on Rin's birthday (God, how bad is it?) to the Memorial Stone—

He rose to his feet in one unsteady movement, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum. He moved to leave very quickly, but as he was about to reach for the doorknob, he stopped and turned to face Kurenai again. She was still sitting at the table, watching him glumly.

"Thank you," he said quietly, but it was enough; she managed a small smile in return, and he left.

(…)

Darting from rooftop to rooftop, he tried to keep his thoughts from racing.

I shouldn't be that surprised she's seen the tapes, he tried to tell himself. After all, hadn't I already come to that conclusion?

This feeble argument was cast angrily aside as a bigger part of him retorted, It's not Asuma's tapes that have me so shaken up— it's the documentation of Rin's death, and the fact that Sakura has seen it. He was having a hard time blocking out the sound of birds chirping— the noise he already associated with death because of the Chidori, but especially so with Rin's because of the last thing he said to her.

"Look, Rin… Can't you see the birds?"

He tried to imagine Sakura sitting on her couch, watching the scene from the angle of the security camera. A shiver ran through his body, but he steadied himself so as not to slip and fall off the roof.

Landing catlike in a familiar clearing, he straightened up and walked towards the dark stone monument. Crouching in front of the Memorial, he ran his fingers along two carved names: Uchiha Obito and Namikaze Minato. Although he knew it was not there, he couldn't help but scan the surface for "Kurumi Rin" out of habit. With the usual angry clench of his stomach, he did not find it there.

Sighing, he stood up, ignoring the cracking of his joints. He untied the knot of his headband, taking it by the metal protector and stuffing it into his pocket. He blinked both eyes open so that Obito could see, too, allowing the Sharingan to swirl with excitement.

As his eye calmed down, he sighed again. "What am I going to do about this one?"

He remembered when he was sitting here eating breakfast, celebrating Rin's birthday at the place her name ought to have been etched. Sakura had come to him then looking horrible, her eyes red and puffy. He had wondered what was wrong; had she seen one of the tapes? What if she hadn't been crying for herself? What if she had been crying for him?

"Does she pity me?" he asked the Stone. Is our relationship built on pity love? An angry gust of wind blew past him; at first, he felt it was echoing his own anger with the idea, but then he wondered if, perhaps, Obito and Sensei and Rin were trying to tell him something?

After a moment of thought he discarded his earlier speculation. Even if pity was what brought her to the Memorial Stone, he knew that something had started developing between them long before the tapes came into play. Their connection was incontrovertibly genuine, regardless of her recent actions.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Can we fix it, Rin?" he asked. "Can Sakura and I go back to the way we were?"

"Well, what do you want to happen?" He could almost hear Obito asking him the question, see him crossing his arms and staring pointedly at Kakashi.

"Ah…" Kakashi searched his mind for the answer. What did he want to happen?

The ache from before crept into his chest, gripping his heart and squeezing unpleasantly. Reminding him of what he was risking, it impelled him to answer. "I don't want to lose her."

"What are you going to do?" He heard his sensei throw his own question back at him; it reminded him of being a child faced with a difficult training scenario. Minato would only deflect his questions, forcing Kakashi to make his own decisions.

He sighed, considering the possible courses of action. He could confront her immediately, taking an aggressive approach to contrast her frustratingly aloof attitude. But no, anger and intimidation were not the right ways to handle this. Perhaps I should give her some time?

Time, another side of him argued, is what is part of the problem. The two of you hardly see each other, and the infrequency probably contributes significantly to her craving of information.

But spending time with her doesn't seem to help, he defended. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes in an effort to think clearly. He had to be pragmatic; he couldn't afford to get caught up in fights with himself. Through the cacophony of his thoughts, a clear, calm voice asked, "Do you love her?"

He opened his eyes and looked at the trees, their bare limbs caught in the wind's slow dance, and contemplated Rin's question. He did not think of the new Sakura, who only showed up with her icy indifference from time to time. Instead he focused on the Sakura he had been attracted to for months and known for years, her cheeks flushed with laughter, punching him lightly on the shoulder and stealing a kiss.

"Mmm…" he said, "I think I do."

He cocked his head to the side and observed the position of the sun. Sakura and I will have to talk later, he decided. He had just remembered that he was supposed to have reported to Tsunade's office three hours earlier. As usual, he had let time get away from him. He granted the Sharingan one more look around before he tied his headband, tilting it to conceal the red eye. Yawning, he formed the right hand seals and disappeared in a cloud of leaves and smoke.