.

.

.

A House With No Faces

Each night you hear the drums of war: Awaken. Awaken. Awaken.

Minato looked at Sakura thoughtfully.

There was dirt smudged on his jounin vest and his chin, blood that belonged to someone else clung to his skin. Kakashi had once believed that there was such a thing as an invincible shinobi. His father always regaled him with the stories of his missions upon return. To his young, malleable mind, the Great White Fang had seemed like a force larger than life itself. It took finding the cold, dead body of his father, laying on a pool of blood and disgrace, for Kakashi to learn that no one was invulnerable. Now, he knew better than to take his sensei's safe return from what certainly were S-rank missions for granted.

"Cousin, huh? I thought you were the last of your clan, Kakashi."

"I am."

"I'm from his mother's side!" Sakura hastily added.

"Didn't realize you were still in touch with that part of your family," Minato said dubiously, arms crossed over his front.

"I'm not," Kakashi said. "She just showed up, and now she's following me around."

Sakura cleared her throat, and slapped his back playfully. "What Kakashi is trying to say is that it's been a long time since we've seen each other. Such a weird sense of humor on this guy."

"Sure." Kakashi shrugged.

Minato took a couple of moments to mull over this.

"Welcome, Sakura," He said finally, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Konoha."

Sakura looked flabbergasted for a second. Her eyes nervously flew back and forth between Minato and Kakashi, until the latter raised a querying brow at her.

"Thank you, Yon–, Minato-san," Sakura said, bowing deeply for a long moment.

Minato smiled brightly. He exuded such a genuine warmth in his dealings in everyday life that many people found it difficult to believe he was the famous Yellow Flash of Konoha—ruthless destroyer of entire armies. Sakura seemed to be experiencing this dissonance. She stared at him with awe, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Later, after Kakashi took Sakura back home, he had left her to clean up and gone to find his sensei.

Unsurprisingly, Minato was at Kushina's apartment helping her pack the last of her things. The two were set to marry in a ceremony next week, so Kushina was preparing for her move to Minato's house. They'd already been living together anyway, so Kakashi didn't understand why they were renting two places. He brushed it off as one of those rare adult things that he didn't care to understand.

As absurd as Sakura's story sounded when he was retelling it to Minato, it only reaffirmed Kakashi's sense that there was no way she could be lying. Minato listened to him intently. Kakashi could tell that he was not outright dismissing the possibility.

"You met this girl too, right?" Minato asked, looking at Kushina. She was standing by the media console in the living room, haphazardly emptying the contents of one of its drawers into a large brown box. It looked like she had built up a fort of sorts around herself—boxes big and small were stacked in various arrangements around the room. Minato was on the outskirts taping up the boxes that had already been stuffed with things.

"Yeah, she seemed very shaken when I saw her yesterday," She said, trying to close shut the flaps of the overfilled box with some force. "You said she's doing better today, Kakashi-kun?"

"A little. She goes up and down with no warning."

"Did she tell you why she attacked Obito?" Minato asked.

"You found us before I could ask."

"Try to find out. It sounds like the sight of Obito elicited a very visceral reaction from her. That is most peculiar."

Kakashi nodded, and braced himself to bring up the question that had really brought him here. "Do you think it's possible? That she came from the future?"

Minato finished taping close a box, and stood straight. Instead of moving to the next box, he put his hands on his hips and sighed. Minato and Kushina exchanged a meaningful look. Kakashi had seen them do this a lot, and not for the first time, he wondered if they could read each other's minds.

Maybe that was how they knew they wanted to be married.

"Well, is it probable? I don't think so," Minato began, turning back to Kakashi. "But is it possible? You already know the answer."

Kakashi took a moment to smile under his mask. He was rarely ever wrong about anything, but getting acknowledgement from his sensei was still a novelty that hadn't worn off. Minato trusted his judgment unlike almost every other jounin in the village, even Kushina.

"So can I keep her?" Kakashi asked, eagerly.

"You don't keep a person, Kakashi-kun," Kushina chided, disapprovingly.

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Can she stay with me?"

Kushina maneuvered out of her fort of boxes and ruffled Kakashi's hair affectionately as she made her way to her bedroom.

"Where else would your cousin live?" Minato said, picking up the tape gun that he'd set on top of one of the boxes.

"Do you think she could be dangerous?" Kushina asked, walking back into the living room with a backpack in her hands.

"I marked her earlier," Minato said. "I can find her at a moment's notice if anything happens."

"In that case, I guess there's not much we can do except wait and keep a close eye on her," Kushina said, offering the backpack to Kakashi.

"What is this?"

"I packed some of my clothes for Sakura," Kushina said, like it should be obvious. "I imagine she doesn't have a change of clothes if she really did come from the future."

The thought had not even crossed his mind. Kakashi accepted the backpack gratefully.

"How are things on the border?" Kakashi asked.

"Kiri has been too quiet. They're planning something. I know it, I just do." Minato divulged, looking troubled.

"On the contrary, Iwa has been very bold lately," Kushina said, walking back to man her fort of packing boxes. "Patrol caught three spies today. Their hideouts are closer each time."

"You don't think they could be planning something together, do you?" Kakashi asked, wearing a frown over his brows.

"It's more likely that Iwa has begun lining up support from other villages," Minato said, sighing. "I'll find out more soon. They're moving me to the Iwa border since Kiri hasn't let a pin drop in wee–"

"Be careful with that one, Minato!" Kushina yelped, pointing at the box Minato was trying to move. "It's got Mikoto's porcelain tea set. There will be bloodshed if it breaks. It's practically an Uchiha family heirloom."

"Why do you have Mikoto's fancy tea set?" Minato asked, perplexed.

"We had a little tea party last week," Kushina said, defensively. "There's a war waging outside. All the more reason to take time to enjoy the little things."

Minato's eyes softened, as a smile bloomed on his lips. "I'll be careful."

"Thank you." Kushina smiled back.

The smile on Minato's face lingered. "Of course."

Kakashi groaned internally. It was never too long with these two before they started acting like there was no one else was in the room with them. This had become more common as the wedding day inched closer.

"Do you still need help moving things on Sunday?" Kakashi asked, trying to make a swift exit.

"Yes, please. Obito and Rin are coming over too." She turned to Minato, and huffed. "I think I'm going to have to hire some movers for the remaining furniture."

A lightbulb flickered on in Kakashi's mind. "Don't bother with the movers. Sakura can move your furniture."

Kushina and Minato looked at him skeptically. They didn't bat an eyelash when time travel came up, but now he had crossed some line, apparently.

"Are you sure about that?" Minato asked, brows furrowed in doubt.

"Oh yes," Kakashi said, smugly.

She had long finished scrubbing her skin raw, but wasn't ready to leave. The hot water was furious against Sakura's skin. The spray of the shower felt like thousands of tiny senbons pelting the slope of her back. She was glad to feel something though. Every assault on her senses was reassurance. Every disturbance in her surroundings was proof. That she was here, that she was breathing, that through some incredible, unknown force she had evaded death.

Sakura suddenly had the thought that Kakashi hadn't had a chance to wash.

She turned the shower dial all the way to the right. A sharp creak split the silence as the spray slowly petered out. She reached for the towel hanging off the bar on the tiled wall. It was as she was running the towel across her arms that she saw them.

Scribbled in black, tiny characters running across both wrists, forming one cryptic ask—

speak not until spoken to

Startled, Sakura rushed to the sink. Ran the tap water, and tried to rinse the words off the curve of her wrists. They remained.

What? What does this mean?

How?

How? Why?

There was a loud knock on the bathroom door. Sakura jumped in surprise, almost slipping on the wet floor.

"Shit," She swore under her breath, hands flying to grab the sides of the porcelain sink.

"Are you okay in there?"

"Yes!"

"...Okay. I have some clothes here for you. If you want."

Sakura reminded herself to compose herself. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, this may be a clue or an instruction. An answer!

"Yeah, clothes. Clothes would be great. Definitely very, very great."

Kakashi didn't respond immediately. A beat passed in silence as Sakura stared at the door.

"Do you want to crack the door open and grab these great clothes then?"

Sakura hastily found the towel she had discarded earlier and wrapped it around herself. She wedged the door open, enough just to fit her arm and thrust her palm out. A soft rustle sounded, and she felt a slight weight press onto her palm.

"Thanks."

Shorts like her own, and a light yellow wrap with blocks of purple stitching on the edges.

She dressed herself and took some time to pat her hair dry, as her mind remained embroiled in turmoil. When she stepped out into the hallway, she was greeted by the unmistakable aroma of steaming miso soup and charred saury. Sakura followed the smell and ended up in the living room at the front of the house. The dining table that sat in one corner had been set. Her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl as soon as the smell of freshly cooked rice hit her nose.

"Did you prepare all of this?"

Kakashi nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "You must be hungry."

"Like you wouldn't believe." Sakura pulled the chair across from Kakashi, and immediately picked up the chopsticks neatly laid on the side. "Itadakimasu!"

That first spoonful of rice with miso soup tasted divine. She snarfed up her portions at an alarming pace. Saury wasn't even her favorite, but she supposed that everything tasted like heaven when your body had been sustaining itself on nothing but fluids for days. She was so immersed in her meal that she didn't even realize Kakashi hadn't touched his food. It was only when she had finished licking her dishes clean that she looked up and saw him plainly staring at her.

"There's more if you want," Kakashi said, his gaze betraying no emotion as usual.

Sakura seriously contemplated getting seconds, just to retain the flavors in her mouth for a little bit longer. But, she'd already eaten more than was advised. She should have known better than to overeat after a prolonged period of fasting.

"Why aren't you eating?" She asked instead.

"I don't eat in front of people."

"Oh god," Sakura scoffed, setting her chopsticks down. "Because of your mask?"

"So what if it is?" He raised his masked chin in challenge.

Sakura shook her head, amused. "I'm not sure if it's a good thing that you've carried over this little... quirk into adulthood. On one hand, you're consistent; on the other, you're a consistent weirdo."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. "If you're finished eating, please clear your dishes and leave."

Sakura wasn't sure that she had ever seen Kakashi sulk. It was a delightful sight.

"What's that on your wrist?" Kakashi asked, nodding at her hands that bracketed empty dishes.

"Oh, this!" Sakura exclaimed, remembering her earlier discovery now that hunger was no longer a distraction. "I just noticed it in the shower too."

"Speak not…," Kakashi read out loud, without leaving his seat across from her. "Until spoken to?"

"What could it mean?"

"Sounds like something to do with your–," Kakashi looked at her, pointing at her throat, "–situation."

"That much is obvious, genius."

"Maybe it's a curse seal," He said, thoughtfully.

Sakura knew little about curse seals, and whatever she did know was through Sasuke's experience with it. Now that she was older, she knew that Sasuke's life had been plagued by many curses, not just the one that Orochimaru wickedly imprinted on his skin. But that didn't dilute the extent of its impact. Sasuke reached his goal thanks in part to the seal, but it also drove him away from the village when he'd been on the cusp of reconsidering his need for retribution.

"What do you know about curse seals?" Sakura asked, tentatively.

"They work in different ways, but usually the seal enforces a specific condition over the wielder's body."

Like the power surge Sasuke experienced while in his cursed state.

Kakashi continued, as her mind raced a mile a second. "For you, it's not being able to speak about the future."

She bit her lips in worry. "Why would they do that?"

"They?"

"Whoever had me sucked into the space time continuum and dropped here."

"There's only one reason anyone would want to go back in time, or in your case, want someone else to go back," Kakashi asserted. "To change the past."

"To avert a crisis," Sakura said at the same time as Kakashi.

Sakura had just experienced the end of the world, so this certainly added up. And insomuch as she was willing to accept that she had, in fact, traveled back in time, it made sense to attribute this development to a person or a group.

Someone who wanted to stop Madara. Who could have planned and pulled off a feat like that?

"Where you came from," Kakashi said, watching her carefully. "Things are bad there, aren't they?"

Bad was a bit of an understatement, but Sakura quietly nodded. It's not like she would have been able to correct him anyway.

"How bad?"

Sakura shook her head solemnly.

"I see," Kakashi said, brows furrowed in thought. "So you just need to prevent it from happening."

Sakura laughed, bitterly. "How am I to do that, when one: I don't know what I'm supposed to do, and two: I can't even talk about any of it?!"

"I'll help you," Kakashi said, blankly.

"Why would you?" Sakura wondered genuinely. "What if this is all just some elaborate genjutsu? What if I'm not even real?!"

"Well, based on how you roughed up Obito, I'd say your knuckles are very real, if nothing else."

Sakura winced, guiltily. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be."

Sakura looked at him, quizzically.

"Actions speak louder than words," Kakashi shrugged.

Realization dawned on Sakura.

"He's up to no good in the future, is he?" Kakashi asked, like this was not at all surprising to him.

Sakura's throat hollowed out when she tried to say yes. Sighing, she nodded instead.

Finally, Kakashi seemed at a loss.

"Eat for now," She said, when she noticed Kakashi's bowl of miso soup had cooled. She picked up her dishes and made her way to the kitchen.

If it was by design that she couldn't share the state of the future, what exactly did this person or entity or whoever it was—the purveyor of this impossible fate—expect of her? This was an inescapable blind spot. Not only was she limited in what she could say to the people here, but she also knew very, very little—if anything at all—about the turn of events that had allowed Madara to come back from the dead.

The kitchen was the first room past the living room, easy enough to find. Sakura had maybe expected a little bit of a mess—cluttered countertops, a jar of dashi left open by the stove, bits of sliced green onions dropped on the floor. Kakashi was twelve, after all. It was already impressive that he had cooked a whole meal by himself—simple though it may have been; how annoying that he had managed to clean up after himself too.

Sakura microwaved most of her meals and let the dishes pile until she ran out of the clean ones.

She started soaping her plate, while craning her neck to have a good lookaround. The thought occurred to her again—why was Kakashi living on his own?

As the water started running hot, a distant memory conjured up in the recesses of her mind.

Orange and blue, burning bright with fury. A desperate splash of red running into the line of attack. One well-timed interjection, and so many tears of relief, sadness, relief.

Afterwards, a voice yelling in pain. Another steady and even.

"Shut up! …! Don't lecture me as if you know what it's like!"

"Now, calm down."

"Then how about this? Should I kill the most important person to you right now? That way you'll know how off the mark you are!"

"Well, I won't mind if you do…"

"...You see, I no longer have anybody important to me. They've all been killed already."

They've all been killed already.

… all been killed already.

… killed already.

I no longer have anybody important to me.

"Are you just going to leave the tap running?"

Sakura slowly turned to face Kakashi side-eyeing her. When she didn't say anything in return, he reached over and pressed the faucet handle to cut off the stream of water.

"What's wrong? Did you see ghosts again?"

Sakura shook her head. "Um, no. I'm sorry."

—about... everything.

As she stepped away from the sink to let him wash his dishes, she realized that she had not seen a single personal artifact in this house. No framed pictures on the walls or shelves, no beloved knick knacks laying around, no sign that anybody was here—not even the grumpy twelve-year-old, who had so kindly let her in.

Ironic that he had asked her about ghosts, when he lived like one himself.

Sakura had a fitful sleep that night. Her mind refused to still, so her body tossed and turned in the dark of the room Kakashi had shown her to. It was only when the birds outside started chirping, singing their greetings to the sun creeping up the horizon, that she fell asleep.

By the time she woke up, the sun was up high and bright. Light filtered in through the soft linen curtains drawn across the window. Sakura's first thought was a question.

Where am I?

She didn't have to wonder for long as everything came rushing back to her. She wasn't sure if it was the lack of sleep or reliving the bizarre events of the last few days in three seconds flat that triggered the pounding ache in her head.

Refusing to dwell on it for too long, she shot out of the bed and started for the kitchen for a glass of water. She had been expecting to Kakashi in there when she sensed movement, but it wasn't Kakashi she found.

"Kushina…?"

"Sakura!" Kushina exclaimed, straightening up. She had just been bent in front of the refrigerator, its door propped open. "How are you?"

"Alright," Sakura offered, with a small smile, not sure if she'd walked into a common scenario, or a one-time visit.

"I'm really glad to hear that," Kushina said, grabbing some tupperwares out of a bag sitting on the countertop.

"Um," Sakura tried. "Are you here for Kakashi?" She could spy cooked vegetables packed to the brim in the tupperwares.

Slipping them inside the refrigerator, Kushina said, "Kakashi's out watering the crops."

"What?" Sakura couldn't help but blurt out.

"He's in the field–"

"Oh, don't tell me he grows his own vegetables too. I've been shown up by a twelve-year-old too many times already," Sakura groaned, thinking about the perfectly cooked rice and delightfully broiled saury from last night.

Kushina snorted, as she closed the refrigerator door shut. "He does, but only because I make him. If left on his own, he'd be perfectly content living on a diet of rice and saury forever."

"Wow, this kid is insufferable," Sakura deadpanned.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'boy genius'," Kushina offered, giggling.

Sakura wasn't sure she was going to be able to take much more of this. Her sensei was a flaky, lazy, old pervert; not this responsible child who had his life together while she rolled out of bed at half past the whole day.

"How do you handle him?!" Sakura asked, exasperated.

"Well, I grew up with a boy genius myself, so you could say that I had some experience in that area."

When Sakura looked confused, Kushina added, "Minato."

Sakura had heard about the many amazing feats of the Yondaime—some stories from when he was a mere toddler—but she figured some of them had been exaggerated over time and word of mouth. Taking in Kushina's long-suffering look now, she realized it must have been mostly, if not entirely, true.

Distantly, she wondered if Kushina was related to Naruto. There were so few Uzumakis in her timeline that there had to be some connection in this preceding generation. Maybe Kushina knew his parents.

Maybe Sakura could meet them, take back stories to share with Naruto!

The excitement was squashed as soon as it sparked. Naruto was gone. She felt his cold, dead hands with her own.

"You okay?" She heard Kushina ask.

Sakura looked up at her kind, worried eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. I was just… it's nothing." She remembered something else she had been curious about. "Why is Kakashi living here alone? It's such a big house..."

The light in Kushina's eyes dimmed, her smile waned. "Ah, I guess to a newcomer, this looks like an odd arrangement," She said, voice belying her hesitance. "Kakashi lost his parents when he was very young."

Sakura recalled Minato saying Kakashi was the last of his clan. She had been so flabbergasted by the Yondaime's appearance that it didn't sink in at the time. Now, she reflected on the horror of that.

"Unfortunately, this isn't a rarity. This war has left many children orphaned. If there are no immediate relatives, the kids are pretty much fending for themselves," Kushina said, regretfully.

"But–but, why isn't the Hokage doing anything about that?"

"The children are given stipends, but since every able person is dedicated to the war right now, there aren't many resources left."

Sakura felt suffocated. "What a terrible reality."

Sakura realized what a privileged life she lived in her time. She grew up in a loving home with both of her parents doting on her. The same applied to all of her peers, save for Naruto and Sasuke. She had seen first hand the complicated ways in which they had been affected by their loneliness—lost in darkness and anchored by rightful rage, they'd had to steel their strength with the pain of their own suffering. To think there was a village full of children struggling with these demons out there, Sakura's heart broke in a way she didn't believe she could put back together.

"That's why Kakashi is so good at taking care of himself," Kushina lamented, a wistful smile forming on her lips. "He's never had anyone do it for him."

Sakura looked back at the agony in Kushina's face, and she immediately knew that was not true. It was obvious in the light that had illuminated Kakashi's eyes when Minato found them in the meadows, the way Kushina made sure the growing boy ate his greens and lived a nourished life, the way Rin regarded him with easy fondness and the little jabs about Obito that were always at the tip of his tongue.

Kakashi had been left on his own due to some very unfair circumstances, but in no way was he alone. He had people who cared about him deeply, friends who cherished him dearly.

With a despair that was becoming disturbingly familiar, Sakura once again remembered what she had overheard all those years ago.

They've all been killed already.

tbc

words: 4126

/

please consider leaving a comment to let me know how you're liking things. thank you!