The Last Uchiha

by undercoverchad


Chapter Two: The Hardest Truths
Naruto and I are alike in that respect. We are both alone. And yet, one can argue that at least I had the acknowledgement of others. Let me tell you this: It is just as lonely atop a pedestal, and this was the only way I could find to get off it.

Uchiha Sasuke


I saw Naruto on the last day of the memorial service. Most of us of jounin rank had been too busy planning the rebuilding efforts or involved in securing our borders to attend the first two days. But everyone – barring those on sentry duty – made it to the last. It was a sadly diminished group of Konoha's ninjas that were present that day. The majority of those attending were civilian relatives of the deceased.

The ceremony was even longer and drearier than the Sandaime's funeral had been, and though it didn't rain this time, the black-garbed participants provided their own thundercloud. It took fully an hour to finish listing the names of the dead. The memorial stone would be receiving a lot more visitors now.

Everyone I knew had lost someone. Tenten was gone, just as she and Neji had begun to find happiness in each other, and I saw him standing slightly apart from Gai and Lee, pale face set in the determination not to weep. His opaque eyes burned with repressed rage and grief, and I pitied the few Sound prisoners we held in our cells. I doubted they would outlive the week.

Hinata stood near her cousin, ready to provide comfort that he would not accept, though she herself was grieving over the loss of both her old team mates. I could see Ino, near the steps of the raised dais, hand in hand with Shikamaru, while Asuma stood behind them with his hands on both their shoulders. For once, he didn't have a cigarette in his mouth. All three had tears rolling down their faces.

He was standing near the back of the crowd, his bright hair distinctive amidst the sea of black, and gave me a grim nod as I made my way over to him. We were probably the only ones grieving for someone not on the list being read out.

"Have you seen Kakashi?" I asked, after scanning the sombre faces around me for one I recognised.

"I don't think he's coming. He's not at the memorial stone either," he added, "I checked. Where's Itachi?"

It still gave me an odd sort of shock to hear that name. Programmed into my brain for years as one to watch out for, it was difficult to get honed reflexes to relax at the mere mention of that name. "He's at the hospital. I didn't think he should be here, and the nurses will keep an eye out for him."

Naruto nodded. "I think it's better if he stayed away too." he said, and I knew he understood even if he hadn't heard the derogatory remarks about the child, which was unlikely. Few gathered here would be pleased to see the son of the man who had betrayed Konoha. Not that Orochimaru wouldn't have attacked even if Sasuke hadn't joined up with him; the villagers would still see it as such and they weren't inclined to be forgiving. Not after the losses we had suffered.

"Listen," I said. "What are you doing tonight, after this is over?" I'd procrastinated long enough, and I thought, since today was already such a horrible day, why not keep it that way? It was better than hearing the truth on a good day.

He stared at me for a moment, azure eyes sharp. "You sure you want to do this?"

"No," I said, taking a deep breath. "But it has to be done. I need some answers."

He looked away. "You want to do it over dinner?"

I shook my head. "I have to go fetch Itachi once this is over. I'll come see you after."

The rest of the memorial service went by in a grey blur, culminating at the first touch of dusk. The crowd began to disperse then, slowly and in small, hushed groups, because it wasn't a day when anyone felt like being alone. I made my way down to the hospital, taking Itachi off the hands of the head nurse on duty, wondering what I was to do with him if I had to go on a mission. Some medical nins rarely left the village, but with Konoha more short-handed than ever after the war, that wasn't a possibility for me.

We ate at a sushi bar on the way home, and Itachi went to bed early, worn out from his day at the hospital.


Naruto's apartment was in one of the older complexes west of the village central, and situated at the end of the hall on the third floor. As I ascended, I detected the presence of someone above me, and rounding the stairwell, came face to face with none other than Hyuuga Hinata.

"Good evening, Sakura-san." she said formally. I exchanged greetings with her, noticing that she was still dressed in the formal mourning robes I'd seen her in at the service. I suspected that black was going to be a very popular colour for a while, and I too was wearing it, though I had taken the time to change into more comfortable pants and shirt rather than the kimono for ceremonies.

"You came straight after the service?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, only twiddling her fingers a little, but looking at me directly. She'd come far after that first chuunin exam, and I'd heard that Hyuuga Hiashi was considering reinstating her as the clan heir.

We exchanged small talk for a while, the usual absurd how are you's when we both knew exactly how it was with those we held dear long turned to ashes on the wind.

"How is the boy?" she inquired politely. "Is he coping well?" I thought at first that she was asking out of sheer courtesy, but one glance showed me the sincerity in her eyes. Hinata was the sort who truly cared about people, regardless of what others said about them, which was only one of the reasons why Naruto loved her. I talked about Itachi for a while, glad to have someone able to offer advice to a few of my worries, before dredging up the courage to ask the question I really wanted to.

"How is he?" Today was the first time I'd seen him since he'd brought Itachi to me, and though he'd seemed alright at the service, there had been a certain tightness around his eyes every time he looked at me. I remembered the way I'd reacted to him after the battle, and felt guilt, ever present now, swamp over me again.

Hinata looked at me shrewdly. "He needs you to forgive him." she said, proving herself to be just as perceptive without activating her Byakugen.

I couldn't tell her that I already had, because I knew the truth was that I hadn't, not yet. So I just nodded.

"I'll try," I told her. It would have to be enough, for now. She gave me a sympathetic look.

"I must be heading back, or my father will worry." she said, laying her hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Take care, Sakura."

When she left, I continued up the steps to Naruto's apartment, stopping before his door. The doubts I'd been having all day assailed me then.

Did I really want to do this? There'd be no going back once I'd heard what actually happened. No preserving of that image of Sasuke as he was; a boy, too serious for his age, but given to the rare, true smiles that I'd carefully treasured in my memory. After this, the only image I would have to haunt me through the night would be of him dead. Or worse still, Sasuke alive and well but with Orochimaru's smile.

My hand hovered over the door.

If I let it fall, and walked away, I'd never know if my suspicions were correct, that he'd still been alive, that his soul had not been expelled to the gods only knew where or consumed. Never know who Itachi's mother was, or if he'd been loved.

Never know why Sasuke didn't kill himself and Orochimaru with him when he had the chance. If he hadn't, did it mean he'd given himself over to evil, or was there something else I was missing? Some greater danger that he'd been trying to prevent?

Or was Sasuke only another coward?

I knocked then, and barely had my knuckles connected with the wood when the door swung open to reveal Naruto, dressed in a dark shirt and pants. He gave me a quick smile, and I realised he must have been standing on the other side of the door the whole time, waiting to see if I would go through with it or chicken out in the end. It was unthinkable for an ANBU captain of his calibre not to be able to sense my chakra signature outside after all. But such was his kindness that though he could have just opened the door, and by doing so, forced me to come in, he had let me make the decision instead.

"Come in," he said.


The window in his living room was open, sending a cool breeze through the apartment. It was clean, neat; I recognised a woman's touch in the patterned curtains and hand embroidered cushions scattered across his battered couch. Naruto ushered me in, shutting the door behind him and gesturing for me to take a seat before heading towards the kitchen.

"I'll get you a drink." he said.

"Water will do, thanks." I called, settling myself on his couch and pulling one of his cushions onto my lap. It was of blue silk, the exact shade of Naruto's eyes. I saw Hinata's deft hand in the intricate gold and white interweaving flowers expertly stitched around the border. It made me smile to see such an incongruous item in his house. Most ANBU's living areas – for some reason – remained just that. A place to live and nothing more. Bare, serviceable, but without the personal touches that let you call it 'home'. I was glad his wasn't like that. Most ANBU didn't have relationships either, or if they did, they were usually brief and transient. When you faced certain death almost every day, you tend to live only in the moment.

Naruto broke me out of my musings when he returned with a full flask of sake instead of the water I'd requested.

"I think we'll need something more fortifying tonight," he explained, pouring two cups and handing one to me, before taking his own seat in the chair facing mine.

The sake was of the highest quality, spoils of war that the Hokage had commandeered from the Rice Field Country. Colourless and crystal clear, the fumes that wafted from it were sweet and made my eyes water. It hit my stomach like a ball of fire, spreading warmth throughout the rest of my body.

"I don't think it's meant to be drunk like that, Sakura," said Naruto, amused, even as he swallowed his in one gulp.

"What is this," I croaked, "Tsunade's private stock?"

He grinned. "Payment for services rendered, though the old woman gave it up grudgingly enough." he said in a cheerful tone, but his eyes were bleak. I wondered darkly what he'd had to do to earn it. After all, killing evil men was its own reward. It wasn't uncommon for ANBU to be rewarded with something extra when the mission contained certain…undesirable elements. It was usually something that could compensate for whatever peace of mind you lost. In other words, it helped you sleep better at night.

"So," he begun, and stopped, turning the porcelain cup around and around in his hands. The awkwardness that had been between us was suddenly laced through with tension. The warm alcoholic haze the sake had given me receded, leaving me feeling chilly.

There had been something fragile between us, something breakable, ever since the day he'd stepped into my tent, battered and bloody, and I'd seen the broken edges of his promise to me reflected in his eyes.

"Where would you like me to begin?" he said finally.

My own hands were tight about the empty cup. I took a deep breath. "Tell me how he died."


The scouts reported that they'd found some sort of bunker, five miles north of the Sound village where the actual war was taking place. There had been no sign of Sas – Orochimaru so far, though Kabuto had been seen giving orders in the thick of the fighting. They returned after finding the entrance; their orders didn't call for them to explore the building, so the Hokage gave the mission over to me, and I withdrew my team from battle and travelled there.

It was a grey, windowless structure, large enough for twenty men to live in, though the nin-dogs informed us that few had been there recently and there were tracks leading away. Instead, they said that the air was redolent with a different scent. Something dry and musty. Pakkun summed it up in one word.

Snake, he said, and the dogs wouldn't go any further.

We cleared the building, room by room, finding nothing more than signs that three, perhaps four people had lived there awhile ago, just like the dogs had said. There was no one, the place seemed deserted, until one of my team stumbled upon a secret entrance hidden to seem like a blank section of wall by genjutsu, strong enough that he almost missed it.

Yes, it was Neji who found it, using his Byakugen.

"Whoever put up this genjutsu was good," he said. "They anticipated that we'd have someone who'd be able to see through illusions and built it in layers. I'd see through the first one and immediately come up against the second, identical one, and so think that it was real. Good thing that Hyuugas are trained for such possibilities and taught to spot the anomalies."

He dispelled the illusion, and he and I went down the steps we found, our way lit by the succession of lit torches in sconces by the walls. The steps brought us to a series of large, connected caverns, hewn from earth and rock. Some of the caverns were clearly storage areas, littered with boxes of supplies, while others were clearly intended as holding pens of some sort, going by the metal bars and in some, manacles.

Neji was the one who detected the boy first, in one of the storage chambers, sensing his chakra from where he was hiding behind some of the boxes. We knew who he was the minute we saw him. There were rope burns around his wrists, indicating that he had been tied up, though there was no sign of the rope itself. He wouldn't speak to Neji at all, and refused to leave with him. But he would answer me.

"Father said I was to wait for you." he said.

I didn't know what to say to that, so I asked, "Where's your father now?"

He pointed down one of the tunnels we hadn't gone yet. "He's waiting for you."

I tried to get him to leave with Neji again, but he insisted on waiting where he was for me. I couldn't bring him ahead with us and I couldn't let him stay there alone so I was forced to leave Neji with him. He wasn't too happy about that. Neji wasn't, I meant.

It was as if it was meant to be this way all along. Just him and me, at the very end, the way we'd always wanted. Only it wasn't really him anymore, was it?

He was waiting for me, like the boy had said, bandaged arms hanging by his side. Sharingan eyes glowed at me from the shadows where torchlight failed to penetrate and his smirk was the same one that used to drive me crazy. Sharper than before, perhaps. More cruel. It cut, Sakura. Worse than anything else could have, because it was the cruelty I saw that told me Sasuke was no longer inside. I was too late to save him, too late to fulfil the promise I'd made to you eight years before.

His smirk widened on seeing my pain, until it stretched across his face like a snake's fixed grin. "I've been expecting you, Naruto-kun."

It was Sasuke's face; his eyes, his voice. But the soul in that body was Orochimaru's.

His hands came together then, to my shock, performing a quick sequence of seals. Until then, I hadn't stopped to wonder who had tied the boy up. We'd run into no one else, and it hadn't occurred to me that Orochimaru might have managed to regain the use of his arms. It didn't seem possible.

The blue lightning of chidori filled the room with its cold light, the chittering like thousands of birds proclaiming imminent death. I barely managed to avoid the first thrust, he was that fast, and the chidori cut harmlessly into the rock wall, blasting a crater.

I was not so lucky the second time. Shock had made me slow, and I'd expected him to need time to prepare his next strike, but the chidori was ready again in an instant. He was much, much stronger than when we were boys. I turned in time to see it coming, twisting my body at the last instant so that it took me in the shoulder instead of through the heart, which was what he'd been aiming for.

He'd anticipated me trying to dodge the blow completely; I knew from experience that the sharingan would have been able to catch such an unsubtle movement, so I took the hit. I felt his arm go in, right to the elbow, and for a moment, his face was right in front of mine, wide with surprise. Then the pain struck me and he wrenched his arm away. I almost blacked out from the agony, which would have been the end of me, then and there, if it wasn't for Kyuubi. We'd melded more completely over the years, not to the extent he'd like, but enough that he could use his chakra to block my pain receptors and begin the healing process. The one good thing about chakra-induced wounds is the lack of bleeding, so I had no fear of that.

Rage took me then, as it always did, but I'd trained not to lose myself in it like I used to, and I drew on it to give me the speed I needed.

Orochimaru could have killed me already, but after he'd pulled his arm out of me, he'd thrown himself backward, and seemed to be fighting something unseen. His hands clawed at his hair and he was saying, over and over, "No, not yet you bastard, not yet."

I didn't understand what it meant at the time, only that it was an opportunity. My rasengan was already prepared by the time he snapped out of whatever was bothering him. His chidori came to his hand again, and we charged each other.

It was just like before. Rasengan against chidori. Just the pure energies we called to our hands, nothing else, to see who was stronger, who had more power. Orochimaru could have destroyed me with some other powerful jutsu that I couldn't hope to match, but for some reason he didn't. Maybe he'd had access to Sasuke's memories and thought it would be ironic. Who knows?

We bore down on each other, the impending collision unstoppable when he faltered. The mad grin that had been on his face twisted into a pained grimace. When it cleared, his face was calm and his eyes, his eyes no longer shone with the blood lust of the sharingan. It was Sasuke. There was no doubt about it.

Naruto broke off, taking in a few shaky breaths. I didn't say anything. I knew what was coming next. He grabbed the flask of sake by its neck and took several long swallows from it before continuing.

I was too close, too much momentum behind me to stop. His chidori had faded from his fingers before I reached him, so that he was unarmed. The best I could do was lower my arm at the last instant so that my rasengan took him through the stomach instead. He smiled at me before he was blown backwards into the air, smashing into the far wall of the cavern, where he crumpled to the ground, motionless.

He was still alive when I got to him, though that was quickly passing. There was no chance I could heal him, I didn't know how, and no time to bring someone who could. All I could do was be there, see him off to the next world.

"Dobe," he whispered. "You finally beat me."

I told him to shut up and stop wasting his energy and what the hell did he mean by finally?

He laughed at that, nothing more than thin wheezings of air, but for a moment, it was as if we were back to being boys and nothing more was between us but petty rivalry again. It caused him to cough up blood, and I realised that I must have hit a lung.

"Have you met…my son?"

"He's a fine boy, though I hope he doesn't grow up to be like his father." I didn't mean that, of course. I think he knew it too.

"Tell Sakura…"

"What, that you loved her but you were too stupid a bastard to ever tell her?"

He smiled. "That too." (Here, my heart gave a painful squeeze) He coughed again, but it didn't stop him from trying to finish what he'd started to say. "Tell her…Itachi knows. What she wants…ask Itachi."

I was crying then, though I didn't know it. His grip on my hand was getting weaker. My best friend was dying and I couldn't care less what his brother, whom he'd killed years ago, had to tell you. He must have seen this in my face because his grip tightened one last time.

"Remember," he insisted. "Promise."

He was gone before I could. I made the promise anyway and now I've kept it.

He finished the narrative, and brought haunted eyes up to look at me then.

"He let me kill him, Sakura." he whispered hoarsely. "He let me kill him and I did it. Oh God," His face crumpled in the bewilderment of his own betrayal, and he looked like a lost little boy. For the first time since I'd arrived, I studied him more thoroughly and with a practiced medical eye. There were dark shadows both in his eyes and under them, and his face was drawn, thinner than it should be. I doubted he'd slept, or eaten much since Sasuke's death, and felt ashamed at my own selfishness.

He'd needed to do this, needed me, and all I'd done was run away. The one person he could talk to who would understand the magnitude of what he'd had to do had turned away from him. I thought I'd gotten rid of that Sakura long ago. The weak, snivelling coward who never shouldered enough of her responsibility.

Naruto slid off his chair, landing on his knees before me. His shoulders were shaking, and I realised with a jolt that he was crying silently. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

"I'm sorry, Sakura." he gasped. "I killed him and I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise. Forgive me."

How could I not? Faced with his suffering, I now saw what he'd had to go through, and here he was begging my forgiveness? I was an undeserving bitch, unworthy of it, of him.

His pain called to mine, ruthlessly suppressed until now, causing tears to start up my eyes. I blinked them back. Not now. I had to be strong for him now because I wasn't before. I didn't deserve to find solace in tears.

I got off the couch, to kneel on the floor facing him and took him into my arms.

"If there's any forgiving to be done," I said fiercely, "It should be by you, not me."

We knelt like that for some time, Naruto sobbing incoherently into my shoulder as I held him, trying to ignore the hot wetness growing on the cloth there.

Then, "He was my best friend."

My heart wrenched at that plaintive cry. "I know," I soothed, stroking his back in circles. "I know." I held him until the storm subsided, until he'd grieved himself to exhaustion. But not once did I give in to my own tears.


By the time I left Naruto's place it was late, and the streets were dark and quiet, with only the glow of intermittent lamps to light my way home.

During the war, there had been a curfew in effect. No civilians or ninjas of genin status were allowed out after dark unless by express permission from the Hokage herself. Now that the war was over, the curfew had been lifted, but nobody was out celebrating. We had lost too much to seem like we'd won, I supposed.

I'd put Naruto to bed, touching him with chakra to ensure that he'd sleep well and dreamlessly for the night. More than that, I couldn't heal, except by remaining his friend. Hinata, I suspected, would be a great boon to come in the future. Perhaps she could reach, with her unconditional love, the wounds I could not. I'd noticed something disturbing as I half-carried, half-dragged him into his room. There were no mirrors in his house, not even in his bathroom, where there was only an empty frame, and I recalled what he'd told me the day I'd rejected his touch.

I don't think I can even stand to look at myself.

I'd done this, by seeing him as the man who'd killed Sasuke instead of a friend who'd had to do something very, very difficult. Something that could have destroyed him. I only hoped the damage could be undone.

My mind was crowded to bursting with thoughts. I'd thought that I could have some answers, but instead all I'd gotten was more questions. Naruto had been in no condition to tell me what I wanted to know, and judging from his account, he probably had no idea either. What I did gain this evening was the name of someone who did. Sasuke had known that I'd be the one searching for the truth, the one with the questions, and he'd told Naruto.

Itachi knows.

The only one who could give me the answers was at that moment tucked into my guest bed, sleeping soundly. I was tempted to scream my frustration, but did not. My answers would have to wait yet another day.

It was a sign of how preoccupied I was that I didn't notice there was somebody walking nearby until it was too late.

"Yo," drawled a familiar voice behind me. I turned to find Shikamaru, posture more slouched than usual perhaps, but still as expressionless as ever. If I hadn't seen him crying this afternoon, I'd have almost thought he wasn't affected by everything. But I knew better than that, just as I also knew the bulges in his vest pockets were likely to be his clenched fists.

"How's Ino?" I said.

"Not so good. She's taken Cho – she's taken it pretty hard."

"Like you haven't?"

He took in a breath, letting it out again slowly. "I've been preparing for this eventuality ever since the time he almost died." He fell silent. "It wasn't enough."

I didn't tell him I was sorry, because I wasn't the one who'd killed Chouji, and he wouldn't have appreciated such platitudes anyway. We were both too far gone for that. Instead, I reached out to give him a hug. Surprise tensed his lanky frame for a moment, before his arms crept around me hesitantly, and we stood like that for a while, drawing comfort from each other.

"How's the boy?" he said when we pulled apart. He was the third one to ask me today.

"Sleeping. He had a long day at the hospital."

"We've all had a long day." said Shikamaru. "Eaten yet? I didn't see you at the restaurant the rest of us went to."

"Nah. Itachi and I had dinner at a sushi bar on the way home." He'd already heard what the child was called, evidently, because he didn't flinch at the name. But then again, Shikamaru was good at being unflinching.

"Speaking of bars," he said. "I saw Kakashi go into one, just round the corner from here."

"What, alone?"

Shikamaru's mouth twisted in amusement. "He's a big boy, you know? He can take care of himself."

"Yeah?" I said. "Then why'd you tell me where he went then?"

He shrugged. "He looked like he needed company."

"Wouldn't Asuma be a better choice then?"

He narrowed red-rimmed eyes in annoyance not directed towards me. "Let me rephrase that. He looked like he needed sensible company."

It occurred to me to wonder why he was walking here at this time of night. Ino's house was on the other side of town, as was his. Asuma's, on the other hand…

I considered his words. It must be bad if Shikamaru was willing to stick his nose in. "Thanks for the tip, Shika." He raised a half-hearted hand in response as I hurried away.


I found my ex-sensei in the local bar, well on his way to leaving sobriety behind. He didn't even notice when I took the stool next to him, a grievous slip for one usually so sharp and watchful. I observed him for a while, never having seen him drink – or at least not to such excess – before. His one visible eye was bleary and bloodshot as he methodically downed shot after shot through his mask.

Ordering my own drink from the bartender, I caught his attention.

"Whas' a nice girl like you doing inna place like this?" he slurred, waving an empty shot glass around for emphasis.

"Making sure her ex-sensei isn't too sloshed to find his way home, obviously. Where's Asuma?" Or Genma, or even Gai, for that matter. Kakashi wasn't fit to be left on his own.

"He left." Kakashi said flatly, his words suddenly precise once again. "Everyone leaves." Why did I get the feeling he wasn't talking about errant drinking buddies anymore, but of something else I wasn't meant to hear?

"I'm still here," I told him mildly.

He chuckled bitterly. "Thas' cause you only jus' came." he said, lapsing back into his drunken slur again.

It was useless trying to stop him from drinking. I of all people, knew just how stubborn he could be once he'd put his mind to something, and tonight, he'd put his mind to drinking himself witless. The only recourse was to wait until he passed out, or…

He caught my wrist with one hand, held it in such a position that my chakra-laden fingers couldn't touch him. Maybe he wasn't as drunk as he seemed after all, or else old reflexes died hard.

"You're not, you're not cheatin' me o-"

Kakashi slumped to the table, unconscious. He only had two hands, and the other was holding on to his shot glass. On the other hand (no pun intended), I'd trained to become proficient in controlling chakra with both hands.

Tossing enough money to cover his bill onto the bar-top, I heaved him off the stool and started to drag his sorry ass home without waiting for the change.

Kakashi was going to owe me. A lot.

He was a deadweight by the time I reached my house, propping him up against the wall so I could unlock the door. There was no fear of my parents wondering about him; they'd been victims of the war, two years back.

To my amazement, he began to stir as I laid him out on the couch, trying to make as little noise as possibly so I wouldn't rouse Itachi. The man had the constitution of an ox. Not many woke again soon after I'd put them under. But wake he did, though for him, it seemed as though it was more from one alcohol-induced dream to another.

He grasped my wrist as I straightened up after taking off his sandals, pulling me suddenly, with a surprising speed and strength of someone in his condition, so that I landed right onto him. Disoriented from this turn of events, I was left staring into one heavy-lidded grey eye. There was a moment where I knew just what was going to happen; only it was so brief that I could do nothing to prevent it. (Later, I wondered if I'd even wanted to.)

Then he kissed me, this man who'd been my teacher for just over a year but a friend for all the eight that I'd known him. I could feel the dampness of his mask, taste the hard alcohol he'd imbibed, and it should have been clumsy and awkward and disgusting, but it wasn't. Instead, his mouth was hot on mine; I could feel the heat radiating from him through all those layers of clothes, whether from his natural body heat or from all the tequila he'd downed.

I pulled away first, knowing full well that if I'd drunk just a little more of Naruto's sake, that things might have gone far out of hand. As it was, it was a close thing. I was hardly an innocent. After Sasuke had left, I'd been disillusioned by love, and there had been a period of time when I had taken it wherever I could.

He murmured a protest when I disengaged myself from his grip and that murmur was "Rin," My body went cold.

For the second time that night, I put another man to sleep, this time releasing enough chakra to be certain he wouldn't awake until morning.

Then shaken, and more than just a little aroused, I went to bed.


They say that fresh air is good for clearing one's head, but they never took into account the after effects of Misukane's Finest Rice Wine: One drop could fell an elephant! (Or so it was advertised on the label) And I'd had considerably more than a drop. But the cold early morning air that blew into my room when I stumbled to open the window did help, I supposed. As much as a slap to the face and just as unpleasant.

Lucky for me, one of the things I'd picked up as a medical nin was how to make a hangover cure. I prepared two. If the number of shot glasses on his table last night were any indication, Kakashi would need one too.

Itachi wasn't up yet, I'd peeked into his room on my way downstairs, but Kakashi came into the kitchen not long after I did. Taking one look at him – the rumpled hair, grey skin and lines around his eye – I wordlessly handed him the glass containing the hangover cure. He nodded his thanks, aborted the motion with a wince, then drank it down in one, long swallow.

"Most of these cures taste like shit," he said, after a moment.

"Good thing for you I know the one that doesn't."

He'd taken off the jounin vest some time during the night. The long-sleeved dark shirt he wore underneath was thin, showing the definition of fine muscles under it, from chest to navel. I caught myself wondering what he would look like, without the shirt on, and remembered, with sudden intensity, what had happened the previous night.

Some emotion must have crossed my face, for he frowned in concern, reaching out a hand to touch me. "Sakura?"

I stepped back hurriedly, before his fingers could brush my shoulder, unsure of what would happen if they did, and he froze, hand poised in mid-air for a moment before he let it drop. We stared at each other then, and some vague memory of last night must have come to light in his mind.

"I tried something last night, didn't I?" he guessed, and I could hear the self-loathing in his voice. "I'm sorry," he said brusquely when I was slow to answer. Replacing the glass he still held onto the counter, he strode to the backdoor. "I should leave."

"You were drunk," I blurted out, because I didn't want him to leave, not like this, and not feeling worse about himself than he already did. "It's not your fault."

He turned slowly, still unable to look directly at me. "What did I do?"

"You kissed me," I said simply and he nodded. Unable to see the shame darkening his face any longer, I told him what I really felt. "I liked it very much, actually."

Startled, his eye rose to meet mine. Then he smiled a little, the cloth over his mouth creasing and dimpling.

"One question though. Who's Rin?"

The smile faded. Pain clouded his grey eye like a cataract and I wished I hadn't asked.

"She was a team mate of mine." he answered softly. Was. There were so many things I wanted to know, like had he loved her? But out of respect, and the new, tenuous thing that seemed to be growing between the two of us, I didn't.

His gaze shifted, to something just over my left shoulder.

"Is that the boy?" he said hoarsely, something strained in his voice.

Itachi padded quietly to my side, slipping one small hand into mine and hugging my leg with the other.

"Who's the old man?" he said in a distrustful whisper that carried across the room. I bit back a smile, glancing at Kakashi to see how he took to being called old. He was too taken aback by the boy to be outraged.

"He's your father's sensei." Kakashi tensed at this mention of Sasuke. "You can trust him. Say good morning to Kakashi-san."

"Good morning Kakashi-san," Itachi repeated dutifully, then in an aside to me, "Why is his face covered? Is it to cover up his wrinkles?"

I couldn't speak for trying not to laugh, but by then, Kakashi had recovered enough to say, indignantly, "I'm not that old."

"But you've got grey hair!"

"That's not an indication of age! Now Jiraiya-sama on the other hand…"

It struck me then.

I don't like the old man, Itachi had told me. The old man took me away.

"Itachi," I said hurriedly, breaking into their animated conversation, "I need you to stay with Kakashi-san, alright?" He nodded solemnly.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "Wh-"

"Take care of him for me." I interrupted before he could ask me any questions. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

There was no time to explain. I knew exactly who the old man was, cursing that I hadn't seen it before. What I didn't know was if he was still alive. Running down the deserted streets towards the main buildings near the Hokage's offices, I prayed that he still was.


To be continued

A/N: Well, that's it for this chapter, and it's twice as long as the first, with as much aggravation! Can you guys guess who's the old man? I think it's pretty obvious!Apologies for the long wait, I will be updating every two weeks if possible, sooner if I can! Please direct all questions and feedback in your reviews. I'd love to hear what you guys think about it!

To all who've reviewed the first chapter, THANK YOU! Your comments were lovely! sasuke9999, I'm afraid there will be no resurrection of your namesake,this story is about how they deal with the aftermath of loss after all. Sorry if that disappoints!

To Tsuki no Akakage, yes, as you can see from this chapter, pairings are developing, since Kakashi just took matters into his own hands. That kiss was not meant to happen! But they may not stay that way, because there is more to come! Keltosh, I hope you do read the other chapters when I post and enjoy them too! Alamandorious, for calling me excellent, I give you a hug!

Once again, thanks to all of you!