Chapter 20

Kakashi's POV

While he wasn't exactly a terrible person, Kakashi realized that he was probably categorized as a "fuck boy. He wasn't necessarily shocked by this label. After all, he was a bad texter, he hated commitment, and he usually preferred one night stands. In the past, this never bothered him because the women he interacted with were a dime a dozen. What was commitment and communication when he never intended to have anything lasting with that person in the first place?

Since he reached adulthood, he'd never had a want for an attractive woman. One was always just…

There.

Maybe because he was a famous writer. Maybe because he was well off (he was careful to classify himself as rich). Maybe because, once they were able to catch a glimpse of him behind his infamous medical mask that he often donned, he was handsome.

Whatever their reasoning was, it was clear that women were easy to come by and even easier to leave. After all, there was always someone else waiting. And isn't it better for him if he left before they could leave him?

Kakashi has always known that he didn't intend to marry anyone or have children. He saw how it ruined people, and consequently, he never wanted to be in that situation. Exhibit A.) Sakura's recent forced smiles were an indication of her new married life. And Kakashi had to admit that he wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to mirror her experience. As a married man or an individual in a relationship.

With all that in mind, it makes one wonder then, why Shizune seemed to draw his attention. She wasn't a jaw-dropping beauty or particularly interesting. And yet, Kakashi couldn't seem to make himself stop looking at her. He appreciated the way she took care of his father and read him books aloud, of how kind she was to Sakura, of how free she seemed to be of ulterior motive…

It made Kakashi feel things he wasn't used to feeling. And it terrified him. In part, because he knew his feelings were increasingly becoming noticeable. His dad, with his own watchful gaze, had caught wind of Kakashi's interest. Sakumo's knowing smiles were enough to make Kakashi feel his skin flush with embarrassment. And maybe make Shizune uncomfortable if she noticed them too. Thankfully, so far, Sakumo hadn't begun to meddle in his affairs. Even so, Kakashi knew this couldn't go on forever (his dad likely wouldn't allow for it to go on as it had been for much longer). Which meant that he had to act soon, right?

Right.

He wasn't a blushing schoolboy. He was a grown man, for Kami's sake.

A perhaps terrible man...

Which meant that maybe he didn't deserve to talk to Shizune.

Maybe...

Or maybe he did. Because what if she felt the same?

But what if I make her uncomfortable? What if she was so repulsed that she left her position as a caretaker for dad.

A more hopeful part of him wondered…

What if she was elated and stayed and…

What if?

The mental back and forth equally enthralled and overwhelmed Kakashi. Why do you ask? Well, it was because he didn't want to risk making an error. Or of getting hurt. Because Kakashi was the one that left. Not the other way around.

He literally could not take being left behind [again, by a woman he cared about].

But then, he's visiting his dad. Sakumo is sitting in his favorite chair and Shizune is reading to him aloud. Kakashi's entrance doesn't disturb her steady hum of a voice as she continues on her page. And Kakashi finds himself marveling at how beautiful she is as she relaxes in the glow of light from the open window. A blanket is on her lap and her expression is soft. A quirk of a smile is teasing on her lips. Most likely because of what she's reading, but Kakashi can't even hear what she's saying. He's entranced by her.

Maybe she isn't the most beautiful woman in the world, but she's her. Kind, sweet, and intelligent. And that's enough for Kakashi. More than enough.

Itachi's POV

Barely awake and his eyes still closed, he extends a hand in search of the body that normally slept next to him. He expected a warm soft form comfortable beneath the blanket that he shared with his beautiful pink-haired wife. Instead, his hand met a cool patch of empty space. He pauses for a moment, then slowly cracks a reluctant eye open.

Sakura wasn't lying beside him.

He sits upright, not at all put-off. Sakura was, after all, an early riser. Even so, a strangeness overcame him. An instinct of… What exactly?

He wasn't sure.

Not wanting to wake up but feeling odd and not wanting to go back to sleep, he gradually managed himself into a sitting position. Methodically, he pulled back his sheets and stood upright. While doing so he heard the ongoings of someone in the kitchen. Sleepily deciding on a course of action by hearing the rumblings of someone preparing food, he walked with a foreign hesitation towards the noise that undoubtedly led to his beloved.

He stopped in his tracks at the entryway to the kitchen, however, once he caught sight of his other half.

Sakura was setting things on the counter and organizing contents that were clearly meant to be for a big breakfast: Eggs, butter, bread, fresh vegetables, juice, and freshly ground coffee.

This was not what made him pause.

What stole his voice and made his body rigid was the unkempt and slightly deranged look of his lover. She sported an uneven pixie with patches of hair uncomfortably close to her scalp. Itachi felt his mouth suddenly become dry. Clearly, the haircut was self-inflicted while he was asleep.

But while that was bad, this wasn't all that concerned him.

His sweet prim and proper wife was wearing distasteful tight black shorts and a neon green sports bra. And her skin still glowed from what looked to have been a strenuous workout. Itachi mentally assessed her schedule and knew that she wasn't meant to go on any runs or yoga sessions today (especially in not such ghastly attire). This made him wonder then, Where the heck has she been?

Noticing him standing not too far from her, she looked over her shoulder and smiled brightly at him. "Oh! Hi Itachi. Didn't hear you stirring around this morning. How'd you sleep?"

Itachi was finally able to see her face for the first time that morning. And his stomach dropped. Her skin was free of makeup, a first in their entire relationship.

This wasn't what bothered him.

What bothered him was that her dark circles were clearly apparent, showing that while she asked about his sleep, she visibly had none in a very, very long time. While she was smiling at him and had done so since their first morning of making love, her face showed what her makeup covered, unhappiness.

"I-I slept okay," he stuttered. This response satisfied her, and she resumed her movement and dance within the kitchen. "Sakura, you…" He wanted to ask what was bothering her, what had been bothering her for what must have been awhile. But his voice faltered. "My hair?" she asked. "Yea, I know. I didn't do that great of a job. I guess that's what happens when you decide to do it yourself in the middle of the night."

She hummed to herself as she walked past Itachi to the coffee machine to put the fresh ground beans in its appropriate compartment. He heard the faint flick of the switch she fumbled with that made the coffee machine rumble to life.

He debated if he should ask about whatever was plaguing her or continue talking about the subject she thought that bothered him. In part because it was one and the same.

He chose the latter.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

"I don't know. It was just bothering me."

Her response was void of anything substantial.

"But surely you could have waited to go to a professional for your hair? In that way, you would have saved yourself the grief of..." That monstrosity of a 'haircut', he thought to himself. "Yea, I could have," she agreed, her voice trailing off in obvious disinterest as she walked back to the counter. "But that would have taken too long."

"What was the urgency?"

What triggered you?

She laughed as if Itachi said an elaborate and brilliant joke.

Typically, Itachi loved the sound of her laughter. It was beautiful and always genuine when she managed to bother laughing in the first place. Yet, for some reason, this morning, her laughter did not raise the same level of appreciation as it normally did.

"Itachi, does my haircut bother you?" she asked in a sing-a-long way.

"Well, you didn't do a good job," He told her hesitantly. And I know that this is a bigger issue than just wanting a new hairstyle.

"Yea, I kind of suck at this sort of thing." Sakura began to cut tomatoes and onions on a wooden cutting board. "But I needed to be the one to do it."

Her logic was lost to him.

"Sakura, you aren't making any sense. Are you… well?" He asked hesitantly.

It was a genuine question, but not quite the question he wanted to ask…

"As well as I could be," she said with a shrug as she pulled a handful of spinach out of a plastic container.

"Well then, why the haircut? And what's with your outfit?"

She ignored his first question, "I went to the dojo."

"Sakura, the dojo?"

"Yea, it's been a while since I've gone. I can't get rusty."

"I thought you quit."

"I did. Because you thought it was a waste of time." "You have security and capable men around you at all times, we can protect you. You don't need to continue practicing Brazilian jiu-jitsu."

Is she worried about not being safe? Is that why she isn't sleeping? Is this somehow related to the Karin incident? To him, this thought process made sense. It would explain a lot. Piecing together a reasoning behind Sakura's odd behavior made him feel slightly better.

But only slightly.

Something still felt off.

"That may be true, but I don't want your protection. I can take care of myself."

Itachi furrowed his brow.

She placed the spinach on the cutting board and then turned to him with an interestingly amused expression on her face. With a laugh, she said, "I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no."

"No?" He repeated slowly, taking one step towards her.

"'No,' to what you're thinking. I'm telling you that I'm not crazy."

Momentarily, he debated whether or not he wanted to broach the topic further. Something in him advised him it was unwise to ask more questions, to speak of her strangeness. But Itachi could not muster the strength in him to remain quiet and agree with her. "Sakura, I woke up to you looking sweaty and your hair gone. You literally changed overnight. What am I supposed to think?"

"That I let my hair down," she laughed while swishing her non-existent long hair side to side.

"I'm serious."

"And so am I. This is me, Itachi. So get used to it."

"What does that even mean?"

She didn't immediately answer. Instead, she turned on the stove and plopped a small square of butter in the pan. For a moment, the two watched and listened to the butter warm then sizzle. She then dropped her cut onion into the skillet followed by the tomato and spinach. Itachi patiently watched as she maneuvered through the kitchen and made two omelets. She toasted Rye bread and gave him a look over her shoulder that suggested he grab two plates.

He did.

Moving to the dining table with their impromptu breakfast and coffee and juice, Itachi watched Sakura carefully as she settled within her seat across from him on the round white marble dining table. Noticing his gaze she looked up and smiled at him.

"I'm still waiting for you to respond to my question."

"Of course you are."

She took a bite of her omelet.

Itachi didn't bother lifting a hand to his eating utensil. Instead, he watched his wife eat. As deranged, sweaty, tired, and unkempt as she was, she was still noticeably attractive. There was a feral beauty about her. With her hair gone, Itachi could clearly see her high cheekbones, he noticed her eyes more; those gorgeous emerald orbs that could suck you in, destroy you even, if they wanted to. He noticed her supple lips, full and rosey. And as insane as her haircut was, Itachi still felt a glow of pride that even in this state…

She was beautiful. And she was his.

After a few strenuous moments, she finally spoke, "When I was fifteen I received the news that Sasuke Uchiha was going to be my husband. That information changed my life in not the best of ways: Sasuke became a playboy and Naruto faded out of my life. My two best friends left me. I became isolated. My isolation did not change until recently. In some ways, this was self-inflicted. I suddenly strove to meet the Uchiha standard of excellence. I was going to be an Uchiha. Of course, this part was self-imposed. Dad nor Fugaku would have requested such things from me. But it didn't make it any less damaging, any less real in my teenage mind. That mindset didn't change even once I made it into my twenties. It wasn't until I met Kisame in Australia that my views on the world and myself began to shift."

The sudden mention of Kisame Hoshigaki made his stomach somersault.

"There, in Australia, I wasn't Sakura Haruno, the great Sakumo Hatake's freak of an adopted daughter. I wasn't the secret fiance to a cheating husband-to-be. And I wasn't a powerful member of the UE management team. I was just Sakura. And I liked her, as shapeless of an individual as she was."

"Okay…" He encouraged her slowly, unsure of how to respond but wanting to let her know that he was listening.

"But if I'm being honest, even when I was in Australia, I still wasn't Sakura Haruno. I was using an alias."

Itachi felt his hands sweat. He felt strangely nervous.

Sakura's eyes lowered to her lap, "Itachi, I want to learn who Sakura Haruno is."

The expression on his face was clear that he didn't understand what she was trying to say.

"Itachi, I'm leaving Japan and going to Australia. And I want a divorce."

Karin's POV

Footsteps echo down the long white-tiled hallway of the Tokyo Matsuzawa hospital's psychiatric ward. Polished black designer shoes squeak with each step the refined gentleman takes. Purpose is burning in his dark eyes.

Karin pays no heed to the approaching footsteps in her personal quarters.

She's occupied with an incredibly important task.

Comfortable upon her bed, her legs are crossed in a way that it can support her notebook as she writes a letter. Writing is all she's allowed to do these days besides therapy sessions and the occasional outing in the courtyard.

There are balled up failed variants of the letter she's working on strewn about her room's floor and bed. She's frustrated because she wants to explain herself in a way that would make Sasuke understand why she is the way she is. And why she's done what she's done. Of course, it's because she loves him. But that's not enough. If it was enough he'd have visited her by now. She heard he's out of rehab. But he hasn't seen her. There have been no calls, no… anything. And so she wants to reach out to him. To explain her actions. But the words are difficult to find. And even harder to write down.

She's sent letters before to no avail. But she doesn't fault Sasuke for not responding to those. In fact, a part of her hopes he hasn't gotten the previous letters at all, because they were wrong (yes, so, so wrong), and she wants to be as clear in her explanation as possible. But writing was never her strong suit and the drugs the hospital gives her makes her head foggy. And-

Dammit.

She rips the piece of paper from her notepad, balls it up, and throws it across the room. Moments later Karin sighs heavily, clearly frustrated and angry. But after a few cleansing breaths, she begins again on a fresh page.

Dear Sasuke Uchiha…

She doesn't have an actual follow-up sentence. Or at least, not a good followup sentence. She mostly fucks up the rest of the letter after the initial addressing. But still, she feels anger rile within her when someone enters her room and steals her from her thoughts (after all, she could have been on the cusp of a breakthrough).

"Hello, Karin."

Her black plastic pen pauses in her hand. She relaxes her legs and takes note of the professional-looking man at the doorway. The redhead smiles briefly, it's a trained stretch of her lips. Nothing sincere about the gesture. But it's what people at the hospital expect, and so she does it. And the man in the nice suit certainly looks like someone she should at least be courteous too.

"My, you look busy. Care to share what you're working on?"

A part of her is hesitant.

Who is this person? Why did he care about what she was doing? Was he a doctor? Karin hated doctors.

Her lips initially purse in a line of uncertainty and mistrust. But then, she thinks she has nothing to lose. She's locked up in a hospital. People think she's crazy. So, whatever.

With a shrug, she tells the strange man, "I'm writing a letter."

"To whom?"

A narrowing of eyes, a movement to put her whittled notebook aside, Karin doesn't realize it but she looks like a feral animal readying herself to attack or bolt (to nowhere far but at least not in her bed). The man isn't a doctor. Everyone at the hospital knows she writes-"To Sasuke Uchiha."

"Ah, yes. A fine fellow."

It's a simple comment. But she feels herself unwind.

The compliment geared towards Sasuke endears her. "He's a good person," she agrees. He clasps his hands behind him and asks, "Do you mind if I enter your room?"

The question throws her off. She's used to people telling her what they're going to do within the hospital. And in turn, what she was expected to do: Tell them her deepest secrets, take the pills, sit with the other patients, and never ever question why she must do them, never talk back. It was twisted and wrong. So when this man, all proper and attractive, asks for her permission to enter her room, a significant part of her relaxes. Because after 7-8 months of being locked away, this gentleman was treating her like a person. And not like a monster or someone mental.

She edges herself forward on her bed, stopping at the end of her mattress, "Sure".

And so he does.

Karin watches him as he takes in the mostly bare space that makes up her bedroom, safe for the maddening balled up paper that had been strewn about, and her twin-sized bed. "You obviously have a lot of passion for this letter you want to give Sasuke Uchiha."

"It's important."

"Because you love him," he says matter-a-factly.

She nods in response.

He understands.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital have been trying to convince Karin that what she feels isn't love, it's obsession. But she knows the truth. Even if the doctors try to convince her otherwise.

"Karin, I understand what it's like. To love someone, or something, and to want to protect it. Even if other people don't understand."

Karin smiled at him. Genuinely, this time.

"You know, I don't think it's fair that you're locked in here. I don't think it's fair at all. "It isn't," she agreed. He takes a step closer to her. "How about this, I'll make sure you get out of here if you promise me you'll do a task for me."

"A task?" she asks unsure.

"Yes, a task. See, we have a common enemy, Sakura Haruno." Karin flinches as if the pink-haired woman's name has inflicted physical harm. For in a lot of ways, it had. It was her fault she was in here, the loony bin. And while Karin was mentally and physically poked and prodded and dehumanized, that pink-haired freak got married to Itachi Uchiha. Karin's life was ruined because of Sakura. While she, on the other hand, was celebrated. Where was the justice in that?

"What do you need?" Her voice was angry and eager.