A/N: Hi folks! Got a couple things I want to mention before getting started. First off, this story, unlike my other stories, will contain both major violence and character death. You have been warned.

This story is my answer to the question, what if Kakashi never left ANBU? What things would change, and how would Team 7 in particular be different? Unlike my other stories, you may find that Sakura and Kakashi are not immediately likeable here. I hope you will give it a chance anyway!

I also want to thank a few people. First and foremost, thank you to Nyxako, k_waifu, and my husband for reading so many drafts of this, and Nyx in particular for talking be through NUMEROUS meltdowns! Thank you also to the Icha Icha Paradise server for helping me whine and sprint my way through this for the last 3+ years. You all have made this fandom a wonderful place for me.

Finally—this story is a completed story. Everything is done except for the final edits on the later chapters. I plan to publish a chapter every Tuesday until this sucker is done. I hope you like it! Thanks for reading!

"She's doing that weird breathing thing again."

Haruno Sakura frowned slightly as she sat on a bed in the on-call room, holding her breath as she counted to ten. Eight, nine, ten—release. Her chakra sang through its pathways as she tried to ignore the whispers she heard outside the slightly ajar door, struggling to focus completely on breathing and centering her chakra in her forehead. In spite of her attempts to focus, she distinctly heard a giggling nurse say, "Black widow," and she gritted her teeth together. She would never crack the mystery of Tsunade's seal this way. Not when she could hear them laughing at her—even if she was used to people not liking her.

She didn't like them, either.

"Having friends is overrated." Like it did so many days, Anko-sensei's voice echoed through her head, only to be followed—as it always was—by Naruto's bright rejoinder: "Having friends is all that matters! Believe it!" They were the ghosts that kept her company, just as they had ever since she was thirteen. Ibiki-sensei would tell her to focus on the living—but some days that was too difficult.

Some days, dwelling on the past was all she could do.

"Haruno!" The door burst inward as a nurse's aide ran in, her expression frantic. "We have a code black!"

Sakura's eyes snapped open. Code black meant classified. "I'm not cleared for classified patients. Where's Lady Tsunade?"

"She and Shizune are both in surgery. They won't be done for another hour." The aide shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "This patient needs help now. He's not going to last that long."

Sakura was already on her feet, pulling on her white coat. "Take me to him."

She followed the aide through the hospital, both of them running as fast as they could without knocking anyone over. Fortunately, most people saw them coming and cleared out of the way, leaving them a mostly unobstructed path to the wing of operating theaters that was reserved for classified procedures.

The aide was leading her to the double doors of a theater that was marked as being currently in use, but a black ops agent suddenly stood in her way, a cold voice issuing from his mask. "You don't have clearance to be here."

Sakura glared at the ANBU agent's dark-eyed fox mask, her previous irritation returning. "Get the hell out of my way."

The operative didn't move, although another agent in a striped tiger mask appeared beside him and put out a calming hand, as if to pull him back. Sakura didn't give either of them the chance.

"I don't have time for this," Sakura growled, that familiar tide of anger rising within her. There was a life at stake, damn it. Before anyone else could react, she had grabbed the fox-masked man by his flak vest and used her superior strength to throw him across the hallway, where he smacked hard against the wall. The second operative held up his hands in surrender and she shoved him out of the way, finally barreling into the room.

"Report!" she barked, pulling on latex gloves as she turned her attention to the table that stood in the middle of the room. Two nurses and a lower-level surgeon surrounded it; they were apparently the only available hands that had clearance to work on an ANBU agent. A blood-streaked hound mask lay discarded on the floor.

"He's a mess," one of the nurses said hurriedly. "Severe abdominal trauma, he's hemorrhaging, and we can't find where all the blood is coming from. Shinji has been holding him together, but he's going to run out of chakra soon." Shinji, the lower-level surgeon, had glowing hands practically buried in the man's shredded abdomen, but that wasn't what took Sakura's attention—the patient's moving hand was. He was still awake.

"Why the hell is he still conscious?" She moved to the head of the table, actually noticing details about the patient for the first time. Messy, dirty silver hair, a scar going through one closed eye. The lower half of his face was completely covered by a fitted black mask. "Why haven't you gassed him? Take off that stupid mask!"

"He won't let me, ma'am," the nurse holding the anesthetic mask replied, and it was true—the patient's hand was tenaciously gripping the black mask he wore, holding it in place. Even losing blood as he was, he was stronger than the nurse. Sakura scowled.

Grabbing the gas mask, she prepared to rip off his mask herself, but a bloody and gloved hand weakly grabbed her wrist. Sakura looked down, ready to start yelling again, and stopped—both of the patient's eyes were open, one a stormy grey and the other a livid crimson that whirled as it homed in on her. The pleading look in his mismatched gaze made her pause.

Sakura had no idea who he was. She had no idea how he'd gotten hurt. And she definitely didn't know why he wore that stupid mask, or why he had a Sharingan. But the look in his eyes told her that the mask was important to him—and he had the look of a man who couldn't stand to lose anything else.

There was a beat, and then Sakura did something that she rarely did—she relented. "Fine," she muttered, and twisting her hand free of his weakening grip, she placed her hand on his forehead, ready to use her chakra to knock him out instead. "Idiot," she added.

His eyes followed her for as long as they could before they finally fluttered shut beneath the sedating effect of her chakra. Dropping the now-unnecessary gas mask, she turned and pushed herself next to the other surgeon, who finally seemed to be running out of chakra. "Switch on three. Ready? One. Two. Three."

The surgeon removed his hands as Sakura's dove to replace them, and she felt the tingling rush of her chakra roaring to perfectly controlled life in her hands. In that moment, all other thoughts fell away from her. With the focus that she'd learned from Ibiki-sensei, and the skills that she'd learned from Lady Tsunade, she poured all of her energy into saving a life.

Hours later, Sakura walked out on shaky legs and collapsed to the floor outside of the operating room, barely managing to slow her descent before she landed in an ungainly heap. She'd removed her gloves, but there were still dried blood streaks on her arms. Most of her chakra had been poured into saving the grievously wounded operative, with only the bare minimum needed to keep her alive held in reserve. Keeping herself from passing out in the operating room had been a feat that she'd only achieved through sheer stubbornness.

"Sakura," came a hesitant voice, and Sakura looked up to take in the concerned and nervous face of the nurse's aide who'd brought her to the operating room in the first place. She was one of the few members of the hospital's staff who had never had a negative thing to say about her—at least, not that Sakura knew about. "I've taken the liberty of calling Morino Ibiki to come and get you."

Sakura gave her an exhausted scowl. They always called Ibiki to deal with her, ever since one of the aides had tried to carry her to the on-call room and received a swift punch for his trouble. Before Sakura could attempt to tell the aide exactly how she felt about her calling Ibiki, a familiar form stepped between them: that of the same tiger-masked operative from before.

"How is he?" came a masculine voice that was rough with exhaustion.

"He'll live," she bit out, not in the mood for dealing with him, or anyone for that matter. She watched as the operative slumped a little in obvious relief.

The fox-masked operative had moved up behind him, and before Sakura could react, he'd leaned forward and patted her head. "Good job, kid."

In a flash of adrenaline fueled by righteous anger, Sakura was on her feet again and snarling, "I am not a kid!" After all, she had just saved his teammate—a miraculous fucking feat, thank you very much—and he had the balls to call her a kid? She was 25 years old! She'd just made up her mind to hit him when a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Swaying, she attempted to shake her head clear, but was instead steadied by an iron grip on her elbow. Turning, she glared tiredly at the scarred and impassive face of Morino Ibiki, her erstwhile sensei. When had he arrived? "Sensei…"

"Fox," Ibiki said, ignoring her and greeting the operative in a familiar tone. "I take it Hound is doing his best to get himself killed again?"

Fox nodded his assent, now carefully keeping himself out of Sakura's reach.

Sakura opened her mouth to tell Ibiki to let her go, but black spots had started to swim in front of her vision, and she groped behind her with her free hand, searching for a wall to lean against because she was definitely about to pass out. Damn it, she thought. Ibiki snapped his attention back to her, and with a deep frown he caught her as she began to collapse, hooking one arm under her knees as the other looped around her back.

The last thing Sakura remembered was feebly trying to protest as Ibiki carried her out of the hospital.

When Sakura woke, she was briefly confused by the darkness around her before the light at her bedside table clicked on. Blinking owlishly, she took in the sight of a serious Ibiki sitting in the chair beside her bed. She was home.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked in a raspy voice as he handed her a glass of water.

"A few hours. You're lucky it wasn't longer with how much chakra you expended," he said as she took a sip of the water. Ibiki's gruff voice and blunt words were often off-putting to other people in the village, but to Sakura they made her feel much more at home than her bed and apartment did. Ibiki understood her. He was probably the only one who did. More importantly, he had earned her trust.

He held up a scroll, twirling it lightly between long, scarred fingers as he watched her. "A messenger came for you from the Hokage." One of his rare, crooked smirks crossed his lips. "Looks like Tsunade's either impressed or pissed off. Knowing her, it's probably both."

Holding out her hand, she accepted the scroll and unrolled it. She scanned the contents and then looked up at Ibiki in disbelief. "It says to report in tomorrow to receive classified orders."

Ibiki grunted in response, not looking surprised—if anything, he looked a little disgruntled. "Well, I could be wrong," he said, "but I think that means you're finally getting what you've always wanted."

Sakura stared sightlessly at the scroll as her mind raced. After all these years, after all the people she'd lost, after all the hours she'd spent wanting nothing but to be released on the worst of Konoha's enemies—maybe it was finally happening.

Maybe she was finally joining ANBU.

Kakashi groaned as he slowly awakened the next day, the dull beep of a heart monitor and the cheap, scratchy feeling of hospital sheets letting him know where he was. He wasn't in any pain, but when he moved his limbs beneath the sheet he felt as weak as a kitten. As he woke completely, he frowned beneath his mask.

He was still alive.

Pushing the sheet down, he gingerly raised the edge of his hospital gown to look at his abdomen. What had been a mess of shredded flesh before was now smooth, nearly unmarred skin, and the few remaining scars were pale and barely noticeable, like time had already healed them. Kakashi was impressed in spite of himself.

The image of fierce green eyes and ridiculously pink hair flashed across his mind's eye, aided by the perfect memory of the Sharingan. He didn't really remember what had spurred him to capture her face with his borrowed kekkei genkai; it had been especially foolish since he'd been so low on chakra. She'd let him keep his mask—he remembered that much. She'd been kind to him. If he'd been a different kind of man, the kind of man who took notice of the good things in life, he might have been more curious about the pretty medic who'd saved him.

He wasn't that kind of man.

Pulling himself to a sitting position, Kakashi grasped the IV that was going into his right arm and yanked it out with a muted hiss. Swiveling himself to the side, he slid out of the bed and landed gingerly, careful to hold on to the bed until he could be sure he wouldn't fall. He swayed a little but kept his feet—and if he could keep his feet, that meant it was time to go. Rummaging through the nearby drawers, he gathered the new ANBU uniform that had been left for him along with his hound mask, hoping to be dressed and gone out the window before anyone noticed he was awake.

He was dressed in minutes. Jumping from the hospital window to a neighboring rooftop took a lot of Kakashi's waning strength, so his pace was slow as he made his way home. He kept to the roofs in order to keep any civilians from being alarmed by the sight of a stumbling ANBU operative.

When he came in sight of his apartment, and therefore in sight of his balcony, he bit back a groan when he saw that he had a visitor. Genma was there, still in his ANBU uniform and leaning against the railing, his fingers fiddling with the senbon his fox mask kept him from chewing.

"What do you want, Fox?" Kakashi asked as he landed on the balcony railing, a sigh taking the bite out of his words. Since they were both in uniform, he stuck to code names.

"Hokage wants to see us," Genma answered casually, light playing off the twirling senbon. "Immediately."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "She couldn't have sent word to me at the hospital, which is much closer to the Hokage Tower?"

Kakashi could hear Genma grinning beneath his mask. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's part of your punishment. You knew leaving the hospital early was going to piss her off; don't start complaining now." There was a pause before he continued, his voice sly. "I bet it's going to piss off that little pink-haired medic, too. She's pretty feisty. She looked like she was ready to deck me earlier."

Normally Kakashi wouldn't care about who Genma was pissing off this week, but that Sharingan-aided image of angry green eyes flashed through his mind, and in spite of himself, he asked, "What did you do?"

"Called her a kid," Genma laughed. "Morino Ibiki—of all people—showed up to haul her off. She called him sensei."

Now, that made Kakashi really curious. To his knowledge, Ibiki had only ever worked in Torture & Investigation, and had never taken a student team. True, Kakashi didn't know him well, but Ibiki had never come off as the teaching type.

Genma seemed to take Kakashi's silence as a loss of interest and hopped up to crouch on the balcony railing beside him. "Anyway, we'd better get to the Hokage Tower. Tsunade will be mad if we're late."

Kakashi sighed as he eyed his bedroom through the balcony door. He'd been so close to some nice, quiet time by himself with his favorite book. "Fine. Let's go." As they both jumped to the roof of the building across the street, Kakashi a little more weakly than usual, he asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

"Not sure," Genma answered. "But I hope it's about kicking your ass for almost getting yourself killed. Again."

Kakashi grunted and deigned not to respond, instead deciding to focus on keeping his limbs from shaking as he and Genma made their way to the Hokage Tower.

"You're late" was the first thing out of Tsunade's mouth when Kakashi and Genma arrived at her office. Tenzo, clad in his tiger mask, already stood at attention in front of her desk. Kakashi and Genma joined him. "I'd punish you for leaving the hospital and having the nerve to be late on top of it, but you're lucky—we're still waiting for someone," Tsunade continued.

Behind his mask, Kakashi's eyebrows furrowed. He didn't like to be late, even if he didn't really want to be there. And who else was going to join them? Kakashi often worked alone, and when he worked as part of a team, it was always with Genma and Tenzo. Who else could they be waiting for?

Suddenly, the office doors slammed open, admitting the petite and obviously angry medic who'd saved him. "I'm sorry I'm late Lady Tsunade, my idiot patient escaped out the win—" She broke off as her gaze landed on Kakashi. She must have recognized his hound mask. "You!" she finished accusingly.

Kakashi had to restrain himself from backing away as she marched toward him and was further surprised when she grabbed the hem of his shirt and flak jacket and began to push them up without bothering to ask for permission. "Hey—" he said haltingly, but she cut him off.

"Shut up!" she barked, pressing a glowing palm to the pale scars on his abdomen. Kakashi heard what he was pretty sure was a muffled snicker coming from Genma. "You can't just leave the hospital before you're released! What kind of idiot are you?"

He wanted to push her off him. He really did. Instead, he found himself opening his Sharingan behind his mask. Just for a second—just long enough to capture another snapshot of a scowling pink mouth and spitfire green eyes. There was a momentary, fluttering sensation in his stomach that accompanied the feeling of her chakra seeping through his skin.

Tsunade cleared her throat pointedly, drawing his attention. "Sakura. You'll have to wait to examine him until later. We have important things to discuss."

The medic—Sakura, he mentally corrected himself—dropped her hands, and there was a barely noticeable flush on her features as she said, "Yes, of course. My apologies."

When all eyes in the room were on Tsunade, she smiled at them—but it wasn't a benevolent smile. It was a slightly feral smile that Kakashi didn't trust at all. Especially when the next words out of her mouth were, "You're right, incidentally. Hatake is an idiot. Boys, why don't you go ahead and remove your masks."

Kakashi, Genma, and Tenzo all reached up to push their ANBU masks up and to the side. Kakashi caught Genma flashing a wink to Sakura, and her answering unamused stare.

"Sakura," Tsunade continued, after giving Genma a glare of her own, "this is Hatake Kakashi, Shiranui Genma, and Tenzo. They're going to be your teammates from now on."

Sakura's eyes lit up. "You're really going to let me join ANBU?"

"Excellent!" Genma said at the same time, while Tenzo gave a surprised cough. Kakashi said nothing, but his whole body had gone tense.

"You'll accompany Team Ro as a medic on missions that require the whole team, and when Hatake goes on solo missions, you will accompany him then as well," Tsunade answered.

A medic. Images of Rin healing him, of Rin dying, flashed through Kakashi's mind. He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, but still held his tongue. He had a feeling there was worse to come.

"One more thing," Tsunade added, as if to confirm his fears. "While Hatake will maintain his position as field leader, he's shown himself to be less than reliable when it comes to his own welfare. Therefore, Sakura, you will have the ability to override his orders in the field if you believe they put him in unnecessary danger."

Kakashi stared at Tsunade in disbelief as her last words rang through the room. A medic who could override him in the field? Before he could stop it, his voice finally exploded out of him in a strained growl.

"Absolutely not."

A/N: The next chapters will further explain just how Sakura came to have both Anko and Ibiki as her sensei. See you next week!