Hatake Kakashi

Kakashi stands in front of the target, kunai in hand, frowning. His thoughts are racing through his mind.

Gai could have been killed, but he wasn't. He could still be killed every day, just like all his friends, just like Kakashi himself. It's a fact of life, something they all live with until they inevitably die. It's no reason to be thrown off balance.

And yet Kakashi knows he is off balance and it irritates him. He's not going to lie to himself about it and pretend nothing is different. His routine has been upset, he can admit that.

Without looking he flings the kunai at the target. There's the thump of it striking, striking true he sees, dead center. He shakes his head at himself and sighs.

The fault is his own. He has allowed himself to settle into this strangely cozy mindset; he has started to take things for granted. Maybe it's the missions he's been doing – A and B-ranks of no great relevance or difficulty – maybe it's the missions Gai's been doing with his little team of still-genin – mostly Cs with the odd B-rank thrown in. Although it's only been about six months since the Third was killed in the attack during the chūnin exams, although Kakashi knows there will be more trouble – it's only a question of time – he has been lulled into this absurd feeling of calm and safety by his uneventful day to day life. And Gai. Gai has been playing a major role. Kakashi can't deny that.

He makes me happy.

It's weird and disturbing to spell it out like that even if it's just in the privacy of his own thoughts, sure, but not a great revelation or anything. Gai has been his friend for almost as long as Kakashi can remember. Gai can make him smile; Gai can make him feel better, Kakashi has known this for years now.

The previous night, though, that was different. When he sat in Gai's hospital room with Gai lying there helpless, inert, hurting, Kakashi felt like—

He felt exactly the way he does every time he stands in front of the cenotaph.

He already knows that his life is one of regret; it's a fact he has accepted. He will walk the path of regret, forever looking back over his shoulder at the things he couldn't keep. Only, he's not walking alone anymore, hasn't been for a while.

It's not just Gai. There's his team, too. They may have other teachers now, but they are still in his heart. He's given them his promise and that made it official.

Thinking about them… well, it brings back a certain memory of Sasuke.

Sasuke bitterly asking him what he would do if everyone he cared about was killed and his own reply.

They are all already dead.

Liar, he thinks to himself, all pretense of training forgotten.


Sarutobi Asuma

There's always the gentle fragrance of flowers in Kurenai's bedroom. It's something Asuma has yet to get used to. His own apartment is suffused with smoke most of the time as he is usually too lazy to go outside for a cigarette. Despite his landlord's disapproval, he likes lying on the couch or the bed and watch the blue wisps of smoke rise to the ceiling. It's something he can't do when he's with his girlfriend, of course. Kurenai won't tolerate indoor smoking.

She's lying next to him, her beautiful body wrapped in a cocoon of pastel colored blankets. Asleep, she might as well be miles away.

He looks at her face, so peaceful and relaxed, her long lashes fanned out against the pale skin of her cheeks, as delicate as flower petals.

What drew her to him from the beginning: how familiar she is; how it feels like they have known each other forever and how, despite that, she still manages to surprise him every day.

Asuma sighs and reaches for her, but his hand stops inches from her skin. He doesn't want to wake her. He doesn't want to have to watch the softness of sleep drain from her features to be replaced by last night's guarded look.

Asuma… she said and he couldn't read her expression, something hard underneath the shock. Something distant.

I should have been faster, I should have…protected him, he said, honestly just because it seemed like what he was supposed to say. The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, insincere like a slight of hand, as if he was hoping to impress by deception.

The truth is that he can't see himself protecting Gai because Gai doesn't need protection. With Gai and him, with him and all the other guys it's like this: they have each other's backs; it's a give and take; it's-. He said something like that when Kurenai told him it wasn't his fault and he can still see the way her expression shifted. A tiny lift of the eyebrows, her eyes widening for a split second, then narrowing again.

They're different to you, kunoichi and shinobi. You don't look at us the same way.

Her voice had been cool, clinical, no accusation, no hurt. She showed him nothing, but he could feel that her perception of him had changed. Maybe just a tiny bit, but still.

Anyway, he couldn't really deny it and he respected her too much to try.