Saving Faith

Chapter Ten: Value to Survival

Kakashi surprised her the next morning. When she arrived to the training grounds at six, he was already waiting.

He was dressed in ANBU blacks, as they'd all grown to call them. They fit him well; she reasoned that he must have stopped by headquarters to pick up a new pair, considering he was hardly the same build as he had been at twenty-one.

Of course, he'd still seemed incredibly intimidating back then.

Now that nearly ten years had passed, she had a much better perspective on things. He was still tall, still lean, even if he had filled out quite a bit around his shoulders. He was still handsome, though he still had that mask staunchly in place while he'd shirked his vest. She caught him in the process of tugging on his gloves, fingertips still missing. She'd always wondered why that was but never thought it her place to ask.

"Early today," was all she commented as she dropped her bag to the ground.

"I wanted to make sure we had time."

As if the entire day wouldn't be enough time without an added thirty minutes. She chose not to say that. "I'm ready when you are."

"Another spar." This time it wasn't a question.

She was more than happy to oblige.

"Without your sword."

It was spoken with enough authority that she shrugged out of the strap that held the sheath in place without a second thought, albeit she did hesitate slightly. It was the first key in realizing he wanted her to be wholly outmatched in this fight.

The second was his fist connecting with her side, sending her skidding back several paces, slowed only by the dig of her boot into the soft soil. He'd taken the offensive and chosen to keep things simple with taijutsu. Perhaps she should have thanked him. While she was nowhere near a specialist it was by far her area of expertise.

She was still pathetically outmatched.

Part of the problem was his speed. Before she'd managed to catch her breath he was there, a swift kick sweeping for her ankle while a twist caught it even when she attempted to dodge. With a soft thud she was on her back, rolling out of the way just as his fist crashed down to bury where her shoulder would have been.

Only as she regained her footing did she realize it wasn't where her shoulder had been at all.

He'd missed.

On purpose.

"Stop playing with me," she growled, insulted and incensed as a result. That he would trifle with her even if he was her superior was an affront.

The reply she received was a bolt of lightning charring through a rivet in the ground just inches from her feet. Finally.

Lightning. Wind. Fire. Water. Earth. Lightning. The cycle continued. He could match her every elemental jutsu, devastating her attacks, supplanting her footing, pushing her back when she was admittedly weak in an area. At least her years in ANBU hadn't come to nothing; she kept her own for twenty minutes.

And then an hour. And then two.

He was still holding back. It infuriated her. Unfortunately, everything she used to goad him into hitting her full force was easily deflected. Her only success was the swipe of a shuriken across his bicep during a series of tricky maneuvers when he'd been laying his traps for her and made half of a misstep.

Now, three hours in, her chakra reserves were all but depleted by her latest ploy, Kage Bunshin no Jutsu. All she was hoping for was the means to divert and distract, to land one hard blow before she'd be forced to fold her hand and the fight.

But as she formed the seals for her last technique, she saw him peeling away the cloth from his sharingan and knew she'd lost.

It was all she could do to close her eyes before he was upon her, one hand pinning her favored right arm behind her back, while the other held a kunai gently to her throat. Her shadow clones melted away. "You'd use that on me," was all she could murmur in disbelief.

"The enemy would never have hesitated."

He was sweating, that was her only consolation. She could feel the slight stickiness of his skin with every panting breath she took, their chests pressed against one another.

"What do you want from me?" They both had known she'd never win the fight and now she didn't dare open her eyes. Years ago she'd seen the tomoe spinning and it still had the ability to send a chill down her spine.

"I want you to give a damn about yourself because I do."

The last three words pounded in the silence between them. It was a heated statement, but not nearly as hot as the breath that tickled her lips through the fabric of his mask. For the first time she realized how close he really was. So close she could feel his heart thudding in his chest, she could feel his arm flex as his fingers tangled even further in her hair, she could feel his anger abating before the cold point of the knife relented from her flushed skin.

Without looking she knew his gaze was following the blade, across the erratic shift of a shadow across the hollow of her throat as she breathed, burning its way onto her mouth. It settled there and now she didn't even dare to move.

He cared. He cared whether she lived or died. He wanted her alive.

He wanted her.

Her free hand instinctively rose to the side of his face. One fingertip found the scar on his cheekbone and followed it to the edge of his mask.

"I know what I'm doing," she whispered before she knew she'd said anything at all.

But even the trees mocked her. No, Yuugao, you have no idea, they said as they shook with a passing breeze. They continued to shake, more and more violently, as if they were laughing.

The kunai was but a memory now, replaced by calloused fingertips tracing the curve of her neck. His hand in her hair was still tangled, anticipating. As she gave the cloth a slow tug, she felt his entire figure tense…

And when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Yuugao, Yuugao, you've done it this time, the trees seemed to say, echoing the voice in her heart. She could feel the tears in the lump she swallowed.

"I know what I'm doing," she said louder, only for it to get stolen away by the wind.

The trees still laughed.

The next morning she trained alone. That night she ate alone. She nursed her wounds alone. She figured it was for the best. If she was going on this mission alone, it would just hurt having to say goodbye.

Shinobi of every level were trickling back home. There were happy reunions, some not-so-happy outbursts over aborted missions, and plenty of business to keep the restaurant district booming. Yuugao steered clear. To her, it was more of a façade than anything. Even her friends' repeated requests that she join them for dinner again went unheeded.

It wasn't until five days later that Genma caught up with her at ANBU headquarters.

She'd brought Hayate's vest, intent on turning it in, letting it be reused, letting it save someone else's life like it had his a time or two before it was relegated to a spot in their closet. He'd want it that way, she knew. It had just taken some time for her to come to terms with it.

"That's my girl," Genma had said when she set it on the table and finally let go.

"When I come back, things will be different," she offered, with one of her small smiles.

Genma grinned. "Sure they will." He'd slipped an arm around her again as they walked, ignoring the murmurs it sent through the crowd milling about. "I don't suppose Kakashi let you know we'll be there to make sure you do come back, huh?"

She tensed. "No," was all she said. Had he known that morning they fought? Certainly he would have told her if he had…wouldn't he? She hadn't seen him since. "When was that decided?"

"Oh, that night after you told me you were going. Didn't sit right with me. Took me a few days to get Tsunade to see reason, though."

So he had known, and just kept it to himself. She was annoyed. "Just the two of you?"

"More than three would be too suspicious sneaking into Sound, don't you think?" His senbon quivered as if part of some inside joke.

She knew she should be relieved. Grateful, even. Happy that at least they cared enough to take her wellbeing so seriously. It was that knowledge that allowed her flare of anger to simmer and dissipate entirely. "I'm glad."

"Now I doubt that. But maybe you'll realize we're not trying to steal your thunder."

Her smile following that comment was genuine.

"So, will you forgive me enough to come to a celebration dinner tomorrow night before we all leave?"

She kept her smile in place. "I don't know…"

"Oh come on," he said with a squeeze, yet he shrugged his arm back to his side after that. "Everyone will be there. It'll be like old times." Except for one glaring difference, and even he could acknowledge that. He did so with a scratch at his chin and an amended, "More like the beginning of some new, great times."

"How could I ever refuse?"

He flashed her a crooked grin. "You can't. Trust me, you'll have a good time. It won't be anything too big. I know you don't like crowds."

"I don't mind crowds." But it was a wasted effort trying to deny it.

"Sure, sure. Oh, make sure you get dolled up. Last night on the town, you deserve to be wearing something other than your blacks."

Thus, the next evening she was tucking the comb Hayate had given her all those years ago into her hair when a knock sounded on the door. By the whistle that sounded as she opened the door, she already knew who to expect.

"Good evening, Genma," she said with her staple smile as she let him in while she returned to her room and, more particularly, her mirror. Her locks had already been rolled into a neat bun, but the comb was the finishing touch that held it all in place. It was an elegant addition to her otherwise simple ensemble of a dark violet kimono, white tabi, and black vinyl zōri.

"Figured I should come by and make sure you were going to make it to the party," he supplied nonchalantly, opting to stand near the door while he waited for her to finish getting ready. "That, and of course, I had to be the first one to say how nice you look before the rest of the guys got to it."

That sounded more like the friend she knew and loved, and as she made her way to the entry again, she was smiling. "You look quite nice yourself. Are you sure this isn't all a ruse to charm some otherwise unattainable young lady?"

He did look the part, in a black buttoned shirt layered beneath a grey vest that matched his slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he still had that senbon in his mouth, however. For once, his blonde hair wasn't hidden beneath his forehead protector. If he wasn't already wildly popular with the ladies, perhaps she'd see him clean up this nicely more often.

"I promise, no funny stuff. At least at first. After a few drinks, who knows." He gave her a wink and offered his arm. "But don't worry, not everyone's a drinker."

But they could have fooled Yuugao.

By everyone, Genma had meant just about everyone. Considering how restless the whole force had been being called back to Konoha, Yuugao imagined that more came to the Karai sushi restaurant than were truly invited. There were plenty of familiar faces not at their table in the back, including Tenzo, who she naturally gravitated toward for a brief chat. He was well, it seemed, although Yuugao noticed he was also like a fish out of water amid his more boisterous companions. She didn't see him again after she joined her friends in the back.

Anko had already been knocking back drinks like sake was going out of style, as she was twirling her fingers in Genma's hair and commenting, her words just a tad slurred, that he should wear it like that more often. The blonde shinobi had a crooked grin on his face all the while, but Yuugao noticed he was keeping a careful measure of how many drinks he had. Prudent. Admirable.

Iruka was another who wasn't drinking much, if at all. He was sullen, despite Genma's repeated jabs in his side for him to loosen up. Truthfully, he seemed as if he needed it. Even his jacket and tie seemed just a bit too tight for the occasion.

A glass smashed in the front of house and a loud cheer went up. At least they all knew how to pay well for the ruckus they'd caused, or the owner never would have agreed to be overrun by rambunctious men and women acting like teenagers.

"At least try and enjoy yourself for my sake," Yuugao had finally ended up saying to Iruka, with one of her small smiles. She thought she'd set an example by having a sip of the glass Genma had insisted on pouring for her, but to no avail.

"Where's Kakashi? I wanted to wring his neck, too," was Iruka's only sour comment.

"Who knows. Probably at the memorial. Like always. I did invite him." That from Genma, who had finally succeeded in pawning Anko off on the nearest also too-drunk young man who stumbled by. From the looks of it, they'd managed to find their way into one of the supply closets around the corner in the very back of the establishment.

"Thinking of Obito," she concluded softly, a hint of bittersweet in the assumption.

"Nah. Not tonight. Tonight he's thinking about Rin."

Iruka merely shook his head disapprovingly, crouched forward with his elbows on the table. Yuugao on the other hand was curious. "Why tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know," Genma said, throwing his arms back and folding his hands behind his head. "Maybe because he loved her once and he thinks you're just doing this to get away from how much you still love Hayate."

Another smash sounded in the front and Yuugao was glad it could cover the sound of her heart dropping out of her chest.

"Now that was completely out of line, Genma," Iruka immediately was defending her, about to launch into more when her hand on his arm stopped him.

"You're right. I do love Hayate still. I probably always will. But… it's not like that," she said quietly, having since retreated her touch to fold her hands tentatively in her lap under the table. "Not anymore, at least. I'm not doing this to get away from something."

Except even as she said it she knew it was only a half-truth. She was still getting away from something. Now, it was just a different something than she'd first imagined.

Before that something could come waltzing through the door in one of his less-than-fashionably late entrances, she figured it was time to cut her losses and take her leave. Both men rose to their feet as she did.

"Yuugao, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. I've just— Well, forget it. There's no excusing it." Genma seemed stricken. Chances were he'd start drinking now even if he hadn't been keen on it before.

"Don't apologize," she reassured him. And Iruka, too, when she saw the concern written on his face. "Thank you. For always telling me the truth. That's what friends are for, isn't that right?"

As she headed through the shoji screen, she could hear Iruka's angry, "Why did you say that? Damn it, Genma, you're practically heartless."

"Shit, I'm sorry. She's got thick skin, that girl... Go after her and walk her home, will you? You can wring my neck later."

Iruka caught up to her just as she was stepping out into the crisp evening air. Compared to the suffocating humidity of the room full of too much testosterone, it was almost chilling. "Mind if I walk you home?"

"I don't need an escort, Iruka," she told him simply, but she tried to spare his feelings by adding a vague smile.

"I know you don't." A pause, and he blurted out, "I don't get to go with you on the mission, Yuugao. I would have, but, well, there are the students, and…" He shook his head, giving his tie a tug as if he finally realized it was too tight. "Let me at least walk you home. I won't see you again for awhile."

The look he gave her was endearing. "Very well."

Like Genma had before, he offered his arm and she gently slipped her hand through it. It was a shame that only now, on the eve of her departure, could she truly appreciate how much they all did care about her. But it did make her all the more determined to do one last thing before she left.

"Yuugao, I should—"

She stopped him with a squeeze of her hand on his arm. "Don't ruin the moment, Iruka. Let's just enjoy it, shall we? Besides, I have a favor to ask you when we get there."

He nodded and drew his arm a bit closer to his side. She knew again that he needed the closeness more than she did.

Companionable silences with the people she held so dear. Perhaps that's what she would miss most.

When they reached her apartment she let them both in and asked him to take a seat. He obliged without a word, and she retreated to the bedroom, opening the closet to give the box inside one last loving gaze. It was finally time. She was finally ready.

She perched it on the corner of the coffee table and sent Iruka a slightly apologetic smile. "Do you think you could get rid of this for me?"

Apparently his curiosity got the best of him occasionally as well, as his hand moved to the flap and when he pulled it aside he recoiled. "Hayate's…? No, Yuugao, I can't."

She took a seat beside him, plucking the hand that had retreated as if burned and cradling it in both of hers. "Yes, you can. It needs to be you, Iruka."

His fingers were cold. It was a minute before they curled around hers in return. "But why? I barely even knew him…"

"That's exactly why. You won't be tempted to keep anything 'for old time's sake.' It won't be as hard for you." She gave his hand a squeeze. "You've always been my friend first, unlike some of the others."

"Since we were kids."

He understood. He would do her the favor. She was relieved and it showed in her smile. But as she attempted to pull her hand away, he held on tightly, finally meeting her gaze.

"Yuugao, I've never asked you this, but do you… Did you… Have you ever thought of…?" And even though he couldn't finish the thought, she knew what he was saying without words.

"Oh, Iruka, don't—"

"I know it's not my place, but I just thought, I don't know… If you had someone to come back to, maybe…"

Tears were stinging her eyes again, but this time she didn't fight them. "I do have someone to come back to. I love you like a brother, Iruka. I love you all so dearly. I couldn't do this if it wasn't for all of you."

His emotions warred across his countenance and for a split-second she expected he might leave like someone else had so many times in the past. But he didn't. Instead, his arms were around her for a warm hug that expected nothing but gave everything.

"You just better come back," he said when he carried that box out the door with him a few minutes later.

"I will."

It was a promise.

Fin.

A/N: Okay, this chapter was especially hard to write. Hopefully it was worth it. Anyone who can guess the origin of the title gets a cookie. Also, please forgive me for the epic lameness of their fight. There are just too many jutsu for me to research through them all and create something cohesive and plausible—at least for now. Expect some of that in future chapters, fingers crossed.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.