Chapter 26: Masked

A/N: Sorry for the delay. January is a ridiculously busy month for me. Thanks to lulu42 for supporting me through this chapter!

It had been a few days.

It was now the beginning of the week, and Sakura had just left for her class. Right before she left, as per the usual since this mission really began, she had come to caress his face and cover his scar with concealer.

What wasn't part of the routine, and was just recently introduced, were the daily pecks that signaled her departure.

And here Kakashi stood, peering at himself in the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink, taking in his image through dark eyes, realizing that he wasn't sure if he recognized himself… externally and internally.

As he ran a thumb over his freshly-shaven skin, he observed his features. He admitted to himself that he was certainly attractive; he had not aged as ungracefully as Iruka or Anko had, yet his skin was losing the elasticity of his youth. His pointed jaw had squared over the years, and it seemed that his eyes were much more deep-set than they had been 20 years ago. His scar was hidden, he was getting increasingly comfortable without his mask, his neck was exposed, his hair was getting longer and was easier to part and keep styled and parted.

But despite the physical changes in his character, the most obvious change was in his person.

This was not to say that Kakashi felt he was fundamentally changing as a person, but his normal behaviors and mannerisms were shifting. His general sluggishness was absent in Sakura's presence, perhaps his eyes were a little more open and attentive for her. She would come home with a smile, and he couldn't help but return the expression. He found himself truthfully yearning for their interactions-he missed her every day and looked forward to seeing her at home.

And most importantly, he recognized that his ironclad will and previously acclaimed genius was rendered ultimately defenseless around Sakura. Kakashi was utterly confused; he was turning into putty in her hands.

He wondered if Sakura had been aware of her effect on him, or if she was even aware of herself. One day she was crying and distancing herself from him. The next day, she would be baring her soul on his lap, kissing him sweetly and implying they'd move slowly in their relationship-or whatever this was. And then the next day, she was playful, happy, and sexually forward.

Or was it him? When Sakura made her statement-that they'd move at her pace-he'd made the decision that he would allow her to take the lead. He would follow her cues, not make them; yet the moment she leaned her body over his, the moment she had the look in her eyes, signaled- even promised-something he knew he couldn't resist.

Even if he knew he should stop, his body would disobey his logic. Her teasing smile and the taunting tone to her voice almost seemed like an invitation, and his body foolishly accepted it. He told himself that all he really wanted was a kiss, and maybe for a moment it was true, yet the second their lips made contact, it wasn't enough.

And just like every other time that they'd started something even remotely flirtatious, they'd almost crossed every line imaginable. In fact, it was arguable that even though Kakashi hadn't yet slept with Sakura, every line had already been crossed. They'd both essentially promised each other that the day would come, and at this point, he couldn't trust his body to withstand it.

With hands gripping tightly onto the cool porcelain sink, Kakashi sighed heavily and looked away from the mirror, head swaying down, and then to the left where the edge of the tub was located.

It was right there where his eye fell-he had clutched the edge of the bathtub stroking himself after Sakura's declaration that she wanted him. It was right there that he induced an orgasm while imagining the scenario he had described to her not even moments before that.

Kakashi closed his eyes and couldn't help but grit his teeth a little. Kakashi was a 46 year old man… losing himself to something as silly as love.

And the strangest part about all of this was that after that encounter, even after they had openly masturbated to each other in separate rooms, they had returned to the bed, smiling, almost purring as they cuddled. It was as if nothing had just happened between them. It was as if they were a couple that had been doing this for ages. It was as if there was nothing abnormal about it.

He desperately wanted to understand the volatility of this relationship. Was she doing all of this because she felt something for Kakashi? Because she felt comfortable enough with him to explore new things? He figured that should be a compliment…

But the dismissal in her approach to this affair, the speed in which she went from being upset to total acceptance was jarring.

And although he tried to fight it, doubt festered in his mind.

In the midst of their passion, he had taunted her with the prospect of playing her game. At the time, he hadn't thought much more of it than a sexual escapade. Now, however, he wondered if the game pervaded more than just sexual tension.

Instead, he wondered if everything about this mission and their relationship were simply part of a fantasy world to her…

And if it were, what did that mean for Kakashi?

Kakashi felt a physical tightness knotting in his chest at the idea of Sakura's feelings being insincere. The idea that Sakura didn't really feel anything for him, just the idea of being in her ideal relationship.

As he gripped the sink a little tighter, he heard his skin audibly pulling as he tightened his fist. Kakashi raised his head to face the mirror and receive his reflection. In it, he saw his bare, scarless face-yet the internal scars were screaming louder than anything he could physically see.

Behind his aging face, the seemingly stoic expression, the once-famous-and-now-black eyes, the slightly furrowed eyebrows, the tightly pulled lip, was the visage of a man who once felt that he never deserved love. It was the broken mask of a man who had never allowed himself to feel something like this in order to protect himself from further pain. It was the expression of worry from a man who let himself experience something he had been denying himself from, and was now afraid that it would be taken away.

With a great sigh, Kakashi pushed himself away from the sink and turned to swipe the work uniform he had hung on the towel rack. He pulled the black butcher shirt over his over his head, then ran his fingers through his messy silver hair to smooth it.

Pain would come for him again, wouldn't it? He'd gone too far into the game to protect himself this time.

He couldn't help but feel that Sakura didn't love him. Not the way that she thought, at least.

"Yuriiiii-san!" Itsuki called out melodically as he rose from his work station to rush to Sayuri's side.

"Let's be partners," he requested enthusiastically. His eyes were closed in a smile and his grin was wide and welcoming. His red fuzzy hair bounced as he energetically hopped over and leaned on her work table.

Sayuri smiled warmly and nodded, her long lilac hair braided neatly and swung over the shoulder.

As Sakura watched them interact, she couldn't help but giggle at the duo's strange dynamic. They seemed close; despite Itsuki's loud thrashing, Sakura could feel Sayuri's happiness in pleasing her friend, even if she her only expression of that happiness came in the form of faint murmuring.

"Well, I guess that leaves us, doesn't it?" Yuuto's cool and soothing voice said from her left. He sat on his stool with a leg resting over his knee and crossed arms. His chestnut wavy hair was parted just enough to reveal his vibrant blue eyes.

Sakura turned to him with a conceding chuckle, "Yeah, I guess it does." She stood up then, and picked up her things to relocate to Yuuto's workstation, dragging her stool behind her as she moved. "Not that I mind."

Once each pair had settled in beside their partners and the canvases were in front of their table, Imada-sensei clapped her hands together and offered a contented look. "Okay," she began. "Remember, the goal here is to compliment each other's strengths and weaknesses. Ideally, by working with someone else, you can consider which parts of your partner's style that you might like adapt to your own, or at the very least, improve on that weakness through the guidance of someone else. You may choose your own subject, but I'd like to see you collaborating."

She paused and looked at her four pupils with an expectant awareness, waiting for potential questions that never came.

"Begin."

Yuuto leaned forward on the wooden workspace, propping himself onto his elbow as his chin rested on his palm.

"So," he asked, continuing to display his very characteristic sense of nonchalance. "What are you interested in painting?"

Sakura's hands were tucked between her legs as she clasped her thighs together. Her feet began to rattle on the bar of her stool, fidgeting as she hummed beside him.

"Mmm... I'm not sure." Her eyes wandered to the ceiling as she thought. As she considered possibilities, the only thing that flashed through her mind were people. Sarada. Kakashi. Sasuke. Naruto. Kakashi. Sarada. And as she fidgeted, uncomfortable with her inability to think of something she felt like painting, or at least, something that she could paint without suspicion or giving away her identity-she noticed Yuuto's unmoving figure from her peripheral vision.

"You're not really much of an artist are you?" he asked almost dismissively.

Sakura's head snapped forward with wide eyes. Her defenses were immediately in place.

How rude, she thought inwardly, then realizing that perhaps she wasn't good enough at painting to fool anyone. Maybe he could sense that she wasn't among them. Or maybe he was just a jerk. But she couldn't risk it.

With eyebrows furrowed, Sakura countered his question with feigned confidence: "Well, I've always wanted to learn. Isn't that what this school is for?"

"Quite an expensive hobby to start learning," he added, finally tilting his head away from hers to face the canvas in front of him.

If he could be rude, then perhaps she didn't have to try being too cordial about his comments.

"I'm already insecure about it," she quipped, attempting to make him feel as though he wounded her confidence. "Way to add salt to an open wound. I know I'm not very good."

He shrugged, completely unaffected by her attempt as appealing to his emotion, attention shooting in the direction of Itsuki, who was thrashing enthusiastically about painting a family at a dinner table.

Itsuki liked to paint inanimate objects, particularly related to food. Sayuri was good at facial expressions.

"What do you feel like you're good at?" Yuuto asked, still looking elsewhere and resting lazily on his palm.

"I don't know," Sakura replied truthfully. She supposed that if he wouldn't respond to emotional appeals, there was no use in pretending like she was good at this. "I guess I have to find my style."

With his free hand, Yuuto raised an arm to comb through his wavy hair, ruffling it to ensure it wasn't sitting flat above his head.

"Well, if you don't have a particular preference, then I'd like to suggest a darker piece."

He finally gave her a side-glance, waiting for an approval on the matter.

"Explain," she suggested. "What are you thinking?"

Yuuto picked up a paint brush and began to tap the end of it on the wooden table.

"Well, that's just my style. I don't really like rainbows and hearts."

And then he tilted his head, as if he were waiting to read her response.

"Besides, you seem like you've been brooding about something lately."

Sakura's head jerked back in surprise. Have I been making it obvious? She wondered about the change in her demeanor. She had always considered herself to be a passionate angry type-never really the kind of woman to hold in her feelings.

She supposed it made sense after all. Sakura probably wore her emotions on her sleeve.

"Oh," she replied in surprise. "I didn't realize."

She removed her hands from the space between her thighs and slid both hands down to rest on her knees. "Well, I don't have any objections. I'm willing to try anything, I guess."

"Good," he responded. His reply was a little more energetic and powerful than she was used to hearing from him. "If you haven't been able to tell, I'm more of an abstract artist. I don't really like lines. I like things to blend, especially dark colors. You, on the other hand, seem to be pretty straight forward."

Sakura sighed inwardly. She was starting to feel like this was another session with Sai and she wasn't sure if he was intentionally trying to insult her.

"You are pretty technical, to be honest. You like lines. And you always have a clear subject."

Yes. Quite like Sai after all. She squirmed in her seat.

Yuuto smirked before giving a short chuckle. "Relax, I didn't say that was a bad thing. I'm just listing out our preferences."

She felt a blush of embarrassment tint her cheeks.

"Name an emotion," he commanded somewhat passively.

"Love."

"Too emotional. I don't like rainbows and hearts."

"Loneliness."

"Better."

Yet following his approval came a raise of an eyebrow and a further tilt of his head. She felt like he was reading her, and she wondered if this was just some inherent skill of an artist. Sayuri could do it, and she was wondering if he was attempting to do the same.

"Loneliness," Yuuto parroted, the paint brush still strumming against the table as he thought aloud. "Okay, so we'll have a solitary focal point... What's something you dislike?"

Sakura thought about this for a moment. The first thing that came to mind as a response was loneliness itself, but that wouldn't do. Sakura's eye wandered out the window to take in the sight of barren winter trees and gray winter skies. Her mind wandered to the image of the next season. Spring.

"Flowers," she responded suddenly, still staring at the trees outside of the window.

Yuuto looked surprised. "Really? I've never really met a woman who disliked flowers."

"It's not that," she said as she returned her attention to Yuuto. "I don't actually hate them, but I'm always associated with them. My hair."

She didn't quite enjoy the flowery pet names that came with her hair color or the name Sakura. She didn't know how many times in her life that someone in thought it was clever to draw Sakura trees and flowers on her papers, or had in some way incorporated it into any gifts.

"I can work with that," he said, weighing their options. "How about this, you'll be in charge of the line work. I'll oversee it and I'll be in charge of the color."

This made sense after all. She was apparently fixated on her lines anyway.

"Okay," she agreed, scooting closer and reaching out to pull the canvas in front of her.

"Irasshaimase!" Kakashi greeted cordially yet relatively impassive, turning towards the sound of bell ringing above the disturbed doorway.

Kakashi was wiping his hands with a fresh damp cloth to remove any of the residual blood from cleaning the counters. He smiled in the direction of the visiting customer.

"Good morning, Akiyama-san," greeted the older woman.

"Hello, Tokugawa-san," replied Kakashi. She was a regular who loved to pick up meat to feed her grandchildren. "Please, call me Takashi. No need for formality."

"Ah, you can't change an old woman's ways, Akiyama-san. That Zenhichi have you working alone this morning?" she asked, waving off his suggestion with her hand and pairing it with a warm smile. Kakashi had found it was very characteristic of her to ask about his wellbeing. She was quite the matronly elder.

"Yes, Zenhichi-san prepared all of the cuts this morning and has left to pick up some supplies for the store."

And that was all the better; despite Kakashi's pleasant demeanor towards customers, he was distracted and his mind had been wandering all morning.

"Well," Tokugawa chuckled. "I'm sure the shop is in good hands. You've never done much to show otherwise! But are you resting well, son? You do look a little tired is all."

"Ahh…" Kakashi hummed dismissively. Was it that obvious that he was upset by something? "Well, Haruna and I have got to pay the bills somehow, don't we?"

"That's all very well. You're a good husband, supporting the two of you to go to that school." Her smile grew and her eyes closed. "It's a good school. Although, I'll be sad to see you go, I know that many have left Takumi Village to be successful. It'll be worth it."

"I hope so," Kakashi replied softly, indicating a gratefulness in his tone. "What can I prepare for you today?"

"The boys are craving chicken," Tokugawa chuckled. "Can't deny my growing boys their cravings! The bones will make them strong."

"Got it." Kakashi dropped the wet towel onto the hanger and made his way to the refrigerated display. He slipped on a new pair of gloves and grabbed a freshly plucked and beheaded chicken, swiftly wrapping it into wax paper before securing it into a bag for Tokugawa. Then he walked around the counter to offer it to her.

"Here you are," Kakashi greeted as Tokugawa accepted the purchase. Kakashi bowed slightly as the exchange was made.

"Thank you, Akiyama-san. Put it on my weekly bill. Give my thanks to Zenhichi as well, and you rest well tonight once you close up shop, you hear? And have that pretty wife of yours paint something up to decorate this grim shop!"

"Hai," he called out, watching Tokugawa waddle away as the bell of the door jingled upon her exit.

The moment she had left, the pleasant expression he had been wearing on his face dropped. Customers served as a momentary distraction from his thoughts, but his mind would instantly be assaulted by the doubts that had been festering since morning.

Kakashi walked back behind the counter, pulling off his gloves and depositing them into a bin before leaning against the preparation area. All he could hear was the constant electrical hum of the refrigerated display; it was like white noise which offered no assistance in clearing his mind.

Instead, the memory of Sakura's voice filled the silent void of his mind.

You were the first person to look at me in the eye and confront me with my own demons, she had said. You brought me clarity when I couldn't see it myself.

Kakashi didn't think it was possible for him to fulfill that role for her now. He was much too conflicted about their relationship himself; too much about their affair made little sense to him, violated so many principles he thought he upheld.

For the first time in a long time, Kakashi considered his own demons, the same demons he had released from his conscience since the fourth war. The demons of his childhood had clung to him even in early adulthood. Those past traumas had established a long-standing image of a Hatake Kakashi that the shinobi world had come to know, accept, and respect.

He was a solitary shinobi and he always had been. Once upon a time, solitude had been his preferred state of being; it was a form of protection. It was a way to prevent himself from experiencing more heart wrenching loss in his life.

And although he had long moved on from the demons that once held him captive, he'd simply sustained the image of himself that had been created. It had been his image for so long that he'd just accepted it.

But it was love that had allowed him to release those demons. The love of his comrades had pulled him out of the darkness, and Kakashi couldn't help but wonder: what would have happened to him in not for those that loved him? For those whose bonds of friendship reached out and saved him from his emptiness?

Kakashi didn't choose what happened to him, and he didn't choose how to deal with it.

Love had saved him. But had they not have happened in that way… would he have ended up like Sasuke?

Gripping onto the edge of the counter, Kakashi stared absently into the glass of the display. For a moment, Kakashi saw his reflection illuminated by the glare of the sun, and he could have sworn he saw the phantom sight of the Sharingan overlaid in his eyes.

Sakura's words registered in his memory once more: Lost in the legacy of his name.

Sasuke was a victim too. He didn't ask to be born as an Uchiha. He didn't ask to be the lone survivor. He didn't ask for the attention, it just happened to him. And it destroyed his childhood and his adulthood in the same way that Kakashi's could have been destroyed.

And most importantly, Sasuke didn't ask for this… although it would not justify his behavior, Sasuke didn't intentionally try to misunderstand Sakura's needs. It occurred to Kakashi that Sasuke just couldn't understand her because of his fucked up childhood. And he didn't ask for his failure-of-a-sensei to steal his wife…

What was he doing snatching away one of the few people that could have been Sasuke's salvation? Sakura and Naruto had loved him unconditionally, and although Sasuke had returned—though perhaps more so metaphorically than physically—he had ultimately maintained his distance from those that loved and he loved in return.

Looking at his faint reflection, Kakashi realized he could understand Sasuke. Kakashi had been alone all this time; Kakashi had never attempted to love someone romantically because… it had never occurred to him before that he could. That simply wasn't part of the role he'd been playing—it wasn't part of that established image of Hatake Kakashi. He'd lived alone for so long, closed himself away from others for so long—how could anyone expect him to connect with someone in that way?

...and that applied to Sasuke too, didn't it?

Sasuke was an uncontrolled entity driven by his loneliness. He was misguided, truly feeling that he had nothing in this world, set out to destroy anything that had caused him that pain. And even if there was a beautiful woman waiting to accept him with open arms, after a decade of searing sadness and isolation, could anyone truly expect him to seamlessly fit into the role of a conventional husband?

Kakashi wondered if Sakura had considered this about her own husband. It was likely that she had not; Sakura had always been surrounded by companionship and people ready to receive her.

It occurred to him that maybe Sakura was in love with the idea of a proper husband. Maybe she'd always been in love with ideas.

After all, she'd held on to her love for Sasuke even after he'd been gone for years… even after he'd done so many horrible things. Thinking back at it, he wondered how someone could love someone who wasn't there, someone who had clearly changed from the person she knew when she loved him. And even then, did Sakura truly even understand romantic love for Sasuke at 12 years old?

He convinced himself that it had to have been the idea of Sasuke—of who he could be—but not Sasuke himself.

He loved Sakura and Sasuke both. Dearly. But it was clear to him that the two of them, no matter what they'd tried, would be incompatible as husband and wife.

Yet it wasn't his place to decide that for them.

But despite this fucked up situation, Kakashi knew he had fallen for Sakura. He understood that the right thing to do would be to end it—all of it—but that currently wasn't a viable option. Cutting romantic ties with Sakura would severely impact the mission. It'd impact Sakura. And they had an indefinite amount of time to go before completing it.

For a moment, Kakashi imagined how Sakura would react if he tried to walk away. The thought of her twisted expression pained him. He didn't want her to hurt more than she already had been… at least one person could be happy for now, even if it stemmed from denial.

Kakashi had really fucked up. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. In recognizing Sakura's denial, he also had to recognize the possibility that she was projecting her idea of a proper husband onto him. And that—perhaps—her sudden dismissal of the concept of an affair wasn't because she was falling in love with Kakashi: instead, it was because he wasn't Sasuke; because she could pretend that this was her fantasy marriage; because she was getting everything from this fantasy that she wanted from Sasuke.

But she would smile and she would laugh and she would look so free.

Putty. He was absolute putty.

The vision of her smile called to him.

In the midst of his conflicted emotions, Kakashi only felt that he wanted to give her what Sasuke couldn't—and while Sasuke could have sex with her, he couldn't fulfill her emotionally. Kakashi would do that and had been doing that instead. And she would smile like she never had with Sasuke.

Maybe he could use a good dose of denial himself… He'd seen it time and time again in his profession: Smart men had often used denial as a tool if it allowed them to do the very thing that intelligence would deny them.

Sighing again, and reaching for the cleaning rag, Kakashi knew that he understood too much, yet again and again, he also understood that he didn't have the resolve to stop himself. He would clean the counter for the fifth time that day, even if there had been no more blood or grime to scrub off.

In his mind, he heard the call of a very familiar mantra: those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.

He'd lived by that mantra for years; and wondered if pilfering the contents of a condemned comrade's heart could be the same thing as leaving him out for dead. He couldn't save him once, now he wanted to steal away the one woman who had the best chance of saving him instead.

As he scrubbed and worked the imaginary grime away, he inwardly apologized to Sasuke for his betrayal…

Not that it would mean anything anyway. His silent apology meant nothing if he couldn't do anything about it.

Sakura was approximately two feet away from Yuuto, yet she couldn't help but lean forward until she was hovering over his shoulder to see him work. He had been slathering the canvas with broad, seemingly sloppy strokes of a dark charcoal color.

It was the same kind of sloppy control that Sakura felt she'd never be able to master.

Yuuto was calm in his madness as he painted the edges the darkest color, blending lighter grays toward the center before reaching their focal point: a white Japanese Anemone.

When Sakura was sketching out the line work, she could almost feel a seething annoyance coming from Yuuto. She couldn't quite figure out why until Yuuto impatiently stopped her from continuing a piece viewed at eye-level. He muttered again that she was not much of an artist and instructed her to try drawing things from an angle.

Eventually, Sakura found small pleasure in irritating Yuuto. She didn't know any better anyway, and so to combat his rudeness, she figured she may as well find enjoyment in what she could. And when she couldn't produce line work at an angle from imagination, he gave a heaving sigh and left to find a small spouted vase to place in front of Sakura as a model.

That worked better. He had made her stand as she scribbled the lines of the vase; meanwhile, he had gone to collect a picture book of flowers for her, and had even gone to splatter the table with drops of water away from the vase. She hadn't quite understood why, but he instructed her to include it in her sketch.

"You're so technical," he murmured begrudgingly as an image that he was finally pleased with formed on the canvas.

And once the image was done, Yuuto had taken over. The resulting scene was a clear glass vase filled with slightly murky old water to indicate the passage of time. Within the vase was a lone Japanese Anemone.

Yuuto had joked about choosing a pink anemone as the flower only grew in pink or white, knowing that the insistence would strike her annoyance. Sakura huffed and had demanded they choose white.

During the sketch phase, as Sakura began to draw out the stem from the opening of the vase, the two of them discussed how they could portray the feeling of loneliness from this one flower.

Sakura had the distinct feeling that he already knew the answer and had an image in his mind of what he wanted to do, but he seemed to be nice enough to guide her rather than to instruct her. He had begun to ask her questions in the way a teacher might lead a student.

Eventually, he had skillfully led her to conclude that the flower should be partially wilting, the base of the flower tilting slightly to the side with petals that were beginning to wilt. It had two earthen leaves sprouting from the stem. He had explained that the stray leaf on table and the water droplets moving away from the vase would portray a sense of loneliness.

"How?" Sakura had asked him.

"Just wait til I fill in the colors," he'd urged, his voice sounding a little more lively and excited than his typical brusqueness. "When I start painting, it'll change the mood. Just watch."

And here he was, swiping his paintbrush, transferring a mix of blended grays around the focal subject-Sakura noticed a gentle expression on his face.

Artists just had some quality about them. If there was any reason that an artist could tell that she wasn't one of them, it was due to that expression.

An artist had a tenderness about their work that they gave to nothing else, and Sakura had seen it in both Sayuri and Yuuto.

Somehow, even though Yuuto had been swiping over Sakura's fine lines, his abstract strokes seemed to exude emotion. The white flower with it's golden inner ring and shadowy gray edges seemed to glow against the contrast of the darkness surrounding it. But the glow seemed to emanate a hopelessness, like the dark was closing in, and the light would disappear forever.

"It feels so sad..." Sakura murmured, watching Yuuto's movement in awe.

"That's the point," he said delicately, his typical curtness still absent from his words.

He paused for a moment, stretching away from the canvas to get a wider look at his work. And then he shifted his glance to Sakura, whose eyebrows seemed to be raised in awe.

"Too sad for you?" he asked sarcastically.

"N-no..." Sakura muttered, looking away from Yuuto and back to the dark canvas.

"Here," he offered, handing her the painting palette with a glob of dark gray and a separate section of white. "White changes everything for the idealistic ones like you."

Sakura took the palette and looked up at Yuuto with a questioning glance.

"Take a little bit of that white and mix it with the dark gray. And just a little bit!"

Sakura did as she was told quietly, accepting his instructions.

"We're going to use it to radiate a little bit of white from the focal point. This is our work, after all, not just mine... so I'll give in to a little bit of hope."

Sakura slowly approached the vase with the brush, focusing intently, her voice low in concentration: "How do I do this?"

"Swipe across and around the vase... yeah, just like that. Make sure you don't stroke downward. One fluid motion."

Sakura didn't want to disappoint him. And she didn't want to ruin the beautiful work that Yuuto had started. She held her breath as she concentrated.

"Good."

Now Sakura stopped, held the brush back and took a moment to notice the change.

Yuuto was right. A little bit of white changed everything. Now it seemed as though the moon was shining on it, like it was bathing in a light of silver.

Although it were the last flower, it seemed as though it was still beautiful enough for someone to appreciate it.

As the class session had ended, Yuuto had praised her for trying her best. He had promised to finish the rest and bring it back to class on Wednesday.

Admittedly, Sakura was excited to see how Yuuto would finish it, and she felt a little bit of pride for having some part it in, even if Yuuto had made most of the major decisions.

Sakura tried to catch Sayuri on the way out, but instead, Itsuki held her attention and was grabbing her arm, shuffling her out as she looked behind her and lightly called out "Tomorrow!" in Sakura's direction.

As Sakura slung her school bag over her shoulder and made her way outside, she found Kakashi waiting on the courtyard bench, wrapped in a his dark gray winter coat, and his chin tightly hidden beneath the burnt orange scarf that Sakura had bought for him.

She couldn't help but smile and feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach as she approached him.

This feeling would never get old-having a man that she felt something for waiting for her as if she were a princess.

"Takashi," she called out lightly, watching the puff of her hot breath turn into smoke in the winter air.

"Haruna," he responded coolly. She could tell that he was smirking beneath the scarf.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had to go watch..." Sakura stopped herself from saying Sayuri's name out loud.

"I have the dogs out on our behalf," he said softly, reaching to displace the front of his scarf, revealing his gentle smirk. "I want to take somewhere."

Sakura couldn't help herself. She brought herself even nearer so that she could embrace him. She slid her arm around his fluffy coat and held him tightly.

Kakashi looked down at her sweetly with his eyes set low, his chin just above her forehead.

"That's quite unlike you," she teased softly. "You always been more of the mission-completion type."

"Maybe you've changed me," he responded, lowering his head just a little.

Sakura pushed herself up onto her tip-toes.

"I've missed you," she whispered, sliding a hand on the loose end of his scarf to pull his face down.

And then she gave him one small peck on the lips, smile never fading from her mouth.

"Why do you think I'm here?" he joked, taking her bag from her, swinging it over his shoulder, and then grasping her hand to lead her away.

"Mmm," Sakura mewled happily as they exited the curtain-flaps of the udon shack.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Kakashi said amusedly, watching Sakura pat her stomach in satisfaction. "How was class today?"

"I enjoyed it actually. Sensei had us partner up with someone and paint together. My partner taught me a lot."

Sakura's eyes were closed in bliss, both from one of her favorite meals and in remembering the progress she made today.

"Sayuri?"

"No, another classmate. His name is Yuuto."

"Oh?" Kakashi asked with a raised eyebrow, reaching for her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "Should I be concerned by the look of happiness on your face?"

"Oh hush," she dismissed with a smirk, squeezing his palm in hers as he led the way. "Who was it that that I kissed after class again?"

"Hmm, I don't know. I might need a reminder."

Sakura giggled and lightly shoved his arm with her shoulder.

"Maybe later," she promised, sticking her tongue out as she winked. "How was work today?"

Kakashi paused and stared silently. Sakura peered up at him. Kakashi's expression hadn't changed; he seemed relatively content. A few moments of quiet passed before he decided to respond.

"Uneventful." He continued to look ahead as they walked.

"Have you gathered any new information from Zenhichi?"

"Not at all. Every time I try to talk about his son, he figures out a way to redirect the attention to you."

"Me?" Sakura asked with surprise.

Finally, Kakashi looked down to see her astonished face then leaned in to whisper playfully. "Zenhichi is heavily invested in our future offspring."

Sakura instantly felt her cheeks flare as he pried his fingers from hers and slid his arm around her waist. She couldn't help but imagine a tiny silver-haired child overlapped onto Kakashi's face. And then she considered what they'd have to do to get one.

Kakashi laughed, and Sakura felt like he seemed to know what she was thinking.

Maybe she really did wear all of her emotions on her sleeve.

"And speaking of children," he continued to whisper, tugging on her sweater to stop her from walking further. "We've got a request to fulfill."

"Kaka-!" Sakura almost yelped. Kakashi's hand was almost instantly smothering her mouth to stop her from exclaiming his name in public. Her hands flew up to remove his hand. As she turned to face him, she realizing her mistake, she proceeded to whisper her intended message: "We're not just going to fulfill a request like that!"

Kakashi laughed again, hand still clutching onto her waist and pulling her closer. When her chest hit his, he turned her to embrace her from behind. "No, not that request."

If Kakashi wasn't suggesting that they try for children, what was he suggesting? And suddenly, Sakura felt silly for even thinking that Kakashi would suggest that.

And then Kakashi peeled himself away and stepped back, hand still on her side. Sakura, who was facing the trees, tried to face him, but he held her firmly and asked her to wait.

Sakura felt anticipation in her chest, and a little bit of giddiness. What was he trying to do? Kakashi's fingers lightly grazed across the base of her neck, swiping her pink hair up and over her shoulder and then he was suddenly reaching over with both hands.

She caught the glint of gold in the sun as his arms set over her shoulders.

"I bought this for you…" he spoke softly. Sakura felt the distinct coolness of a necklace wrapping around her neck.

"Kakashi," she cooed quietly and sweetly. Her hand instantly reached up to pick up the pendant attached to the gold chain.

"Takashi," he reminded quietly, smiling behind her as he tucked the chain under her hair and clasped the ends together.

Once it was on, she felt free to swivel around and face him. She didn't look up; instead, she peered down at the necklace he had given her.

It was a small, dainty, white and pink opal pendant on a delicate gold setting. The opal was oval shaped and set horizontally; and on each side was a tiny shimmering diamond to accent it.

Sakura was speechless. She tilted her head up to gaze into his eyes. He was regarding her affectionately-a light smile spreading across his lips. Sakura knew that she couldn't give him any other look but surprise and wonder… and of adoration. As she stared back at him, feeling full of giddiness and warmth, she couldn't help but grin and give a little giggle. It just slipped out. Kakashi just made her so happy.

"Keep that look," he suggested warmly. "You'll need it."

Kakashi stepped aside and lifted an arm to motion at the storefront behind him. The signage read Takumi's Photography Studio.

Sakura instantly gasped and understood. That request—Sarada's request for a picture!

Sakura felt happiness bubbling up within her. Kakashi was so sweet, even in thinking about her daughter. She felt the light sting of joyous tears pricking at the time of her eyes. She grinned brightly in Kakashi's direction.

"We don't want to keep her waiting for too long, do we?"

Sakura happily shook her head and quickly grasped his hands, leading him in through the door, listening to the welcoming bell jingle as they passed the entrance.

"It looks nice up there," Sakura called from behind him.

Kakashi had just finished hanging up their portrait on the wall. While they waited for the photographer to develop the picture, Sakura had suggested that they go back into the marketplace to pick up a picture frame. Kakashi agreed without hesitation, and together they had chosen a simple golden wire frame to hang on the wall.

"It fits right in," Kakashi responded, not turning away from the growing collection of memorabilia gathering atop of the dresser. "Seems more like a home every day."

With his hands on his hips, right hand clutching onto the blunt-ended kunai that he used as a hammer, Kakashi stood back to take in the scene.

He had moved the painting of Sakura over to the right to allow the frame to hang in the adjacent spot. They had made sure to pick up a frame that matched the dimensions of the canvas in order to achieve some symmetry. Beneath them, resting on the top of the dresser, were the pink teddy bear, Sarada's letter, and the Uchiha keychain. Additionally, Sakura had placed the little velvet blue jewelry box there so that she could place the necklace there while she slept.

Despite all of Kakashi's turmoil for the day, he couldn't help but feel like the denial trick was sort of working. He stared long and intensely at the photograph.

That smile… it was there, immortalized. Captured forever for with the gift he had given her upon her neck. He had achieved exactly what he was hoping for. It was the grateful smile that he saw for the first time following Naruto's dinner; it was the affectionate smile she had given him when he urged her not to give up on the mission; it was the smile that she only seemed to offer him.

But this time, her smile was more radiant than it had ever been. She was not crying. She was not doubting. She was not considering Sasuke or any of her problems. This smile had been for him and because of him—it was pure. One could not look at this photo and think her smile was ingenuine.

Sakura looked so intensely happy and he had been the cause of it.

The memory burned into his heart. Even after this mission, he knew he'd keep it forever.

With a natural smile under his mask, Kakashi turned to see Sakura biting the end of her marker, intently focusing on the letter she must have just finished writing.

He walked towards the table, pulled out a chair, and sat across from her with his elbows resting on the edge.

"Done?" he asked, noticing that a wallet-sized copy of their portrait was just beside the new blue stationery Sakura had purchased for this next letter.

"Mhmm," she replied cheerily, not looking up as she continued to re-read her words.

"Read it to me?"

Sakura looked up, smiled warmly, and nodded as she picked up the stationery.

"Dear Sarada,

You guessed right. That's exactly what we are doing here, but so far, it hasn't been too dangerous. Hopefully, it stays that way, and even if it doesn't, you're right in believing that Kakashi-sama and I can handle it.

I do see Papa a little more often than I did before. He'll be gone again for awhile until we make more progress. I think Sai-ojisan will be delivering my letters to you in the meantime. I'm grateful that he's willing to do this for us.

You know me. I'm your mother, after all, and so worrying comes naturally to me. I'm happy to hear that you are doing well and that you aren't feeling lonely. Please give Hinata-obasan and Naruto-ojisan a hug for me. I owe them so much. I'll even bring something home for Himawari-chan for keeping you company.

And an internship at the Hokage Tower?I'll bet you were so excited to get that offer! And I'm so proud of you. Kakashi-sama even said that you'd probably be Hokage in no time. Sarada, I'm already so proud to be your mother, and I know that someday, I'll see you in that white coat. Perhaps as the Kyuudaime.

Well, it won't be much of a surprise, but Kakashi-sama and I decided to go and take that photo that you asked for. It makes me happy that you miss me enough to keep it beside you. I can't take your keychain with me while I'm in public, but it will always be near to me in enclosed quarters.

Keep me updated on your adventures. Until we see each other again, I'm dying to hear about it.

I love you.

Mama."

Sakura leaned back in her chair looking incredibly pleased and reminiscent as she placed the letter back on the table.

"It's a great letter," Kakashi complimented, and the reached out and leaned forward to peer over the contents spread out in front of Sakura. "But something is a little off."

Sakura tilted her head in curiosity. Kakashi had swiftly swiped Sakura's marker, uncapped it and reached for the photo, drawing a mask over his face in black before Sakura could protest.

"Hey!" she called out, the chair beneath her screeching across the floor as she jerked out of her seat. "Why would you do that?"

As Sakura attempted to reach for the photo, Kakashi held it behind him and just out of her reach, but dropped the marker on the table.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Kakashi warned playfully. "Don't forget that you have special privileges on this mission. Most people in Konoha have yet to be graced by this beautiful face of mine."

Sakura huffed and aggressively grabbed the marker, grumbling about ruining a good picture as she went to write something further at the bottom of the letter.

"Don't be mad, Sakura-chan," Kakashi whined as he leaned forward. "I just don't want Sarada to show all of her friends. I have an image to maintain at home, you know."

"Hmph!"

And that was all the response he could get from her. Although she feigned anger, he could see the twitch of a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Out of curiosity, Kakashi leaned forward to watch her scribble on the paper.

It read: "P.S. Kakashi stole the picture to draw over his face before I could seal it in the envelope. I'm sure you wanted to see it. I'm sorry! Our Rokudaime is a sneaky one…"

"Huh," Kakashi joked as he held out the picture for her to take. "I guess I am pretty sneaky."

As she grabbed it and stuffed it into the envelope, he considered his own words.

He did have an image to maintain in Konoha, but he wasn't certain of his identity any longer.

Who was the real Hatake Kakashi?

Had he always been the man he'd been in Konoha? Or was that just a mask, literally and figuratively?

Kakashi leaned back as he watched Sakura's hardened face soften into a pleased smile. She had so easily forgotten what upset her as she prepared her love note for Sarada.

He felt warmth in his chest and a contentedness like no other he'd ever experienced before.

What this the real Kakashi? The one who was right here with Sakura?

He didn't know. Not anymore, at least.

A/N: Okay, this is probably the last introspective/relationship-based chapter I'll have for awhile. Some of Sakura's flaws were revealed through Kakashi here, and a lot of Kakashi's conflicts/flaws were also revealed here. Neither of them can be perfect in this situation. It's messy! The mission is going to take the spotlight a little more, especially now that Kakashi and Sakura are freely engaging in their affair. I need to make more progress in the mission whereas I'm made a lot of moves in their relationship, so bear with me. For once, I'm excited to get to the mission stuff. Ultimately, the mission and the relationship are inseparable, but yeah. Here we go!

Thanks for reading, and thanks for your patience!