AN: As always, thank you to my lovely lovely reviewers. Each one was very much appreciated and offered a nice little instant muse, especially you Jewel9992, and as always Esther and KaraQ :D
And KaraQ you're right to assume Sakura has no medical training, besides the basics which I think a chunnin should know, and go ahead and dish out every question you got – I'll answer every one!
And that's it, happy reading!
Courage Needs You - Chapter #6
After having stuffed her clothes in the dryer, she sat on her bed and leaned against the wall, clinging to her pillow like a lifeline. It was dark still with shadows dancing and skimming across the surfaces of various objects in her room, creating an eeriness not normally there. Staring mindlessly in front of her, she let her inner wheels and cogs take a break in first gear.
She felt tired – drained; everything remaining muddled like trying to look through a frosted glass during a snowstorm. What had happened to her back there? The pieces were there, she just couldn't fit them together. They were all so vague in shape and appearance and when she thought she was finally able to see one clearly, it would be coated in that familiar frost again, bringing her back 360° to where she started.
The only portion that managed to remain fog-free was the center piece, the sensation piece, the part that connected all of the mystery sections together. She doubted she would ever forget how she felt – the heat, the pressure, the pleasure and pain. Just recalling that mind-blowing rapture made that cloudy haze reappear, confusing and blurring any and every image which was about to be revealed.
There was a sudden gut twisting instinct that told her this was Kakashi's doing, however preposterous that sounded to her ears; but for the life of her she couldn't even begin to comprehend the reason behind him. What had he done? Why did he do it? And why on earth did she take her clothes off in front of him?
A little voice started whispering into the core of her ear, telling her that something significant had happened during the rift of her memory, but she pointedly ignored it. There was no purpose in listening when she couldn't remember. She was too focused on the assumption that it had been Kakashi who had sent her into a whirlwind of pleasure anyway, making her heart flutter in a mélange of awkwardness and confusion.
Suddenly she sighed. Everything was such a mess; her mind, the situation, her now confusing relationship with Kakashi; and what could she do about it? She couldn't imagine herself questioning him – just the thought of it made her face burn. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know anymore.
Continuing to brood, she felt as if the stars had shifted and forever changed her fate and bond with Kakashi. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. She looked like a tragic Greek statue, sitting there with hollow eyes and an expression that screamed distraught.
She wished things were different; that her parents were home, that she could cry into the reassuring crook of her mothers shoulder where she could whisper what all hysterical people wanted to hear; that things would be all right – that they weren't so bad – that she was probably just overreacting.
She wanted to hear those words, feel that comfort, but she couldn't. Her mother wasn't here; nobody was here – the house was quiet. Even outside was quiet. There were no crickets, no grasshoppers, no birds. It felt as if the world had halted in a standstill, smiling at her in cruelty. One might've considered it to be peaceful and serene, but to Sakura it was excruciating with its silence, with its mocking laughter and mean whispered words, speaking to her in harsh broken words of loneliness, isolation and abandonment.
Sighing, she let her head droop till it rested on her forearms and hummed a tuneless tune, trying to make the voices disappear.
Her body felt led heavy and her eyes felt thick and weighty. She wanted to sleep but couldn't, knowing if she did tomorrow would come too soon.
Tomorrow – she would have to see him and face him again tomorrow. She groaned, burying her head further into her arms, trying to make herself as small as possible in hopes that maybe by miracle chance she could disappear and be forgotten.
She was suddenly worried about what he would say – what he would ask – and how would he regard her? Did he know; had he managed to peel away her layers and unravel the truth that she had managed to keep buried for all these months?
She didn't want him to know, she would give anything just for him not to know. He already found her physically weak and inept, what would he think if he knew her mental state was in the same condition? He would look at her with sad pitying eyes and she didn't know if she could deal with being pitied – of having his sympathy and compassion about something he could never understand. If he did regard her with such a look, she knew it would only add salt to her already infected wounds.
What if he tried to make her talk and open up to him? What would he do if she refused? No doubt he would probably want to delve deeper into her chaotic mind and soul, to sort out her thoughts and help her back onto the right path. And if he couldn't do it, he would tell others in confidence, asking them to aid his impaired student. The thought of others knowing churned her stomach. The word would spread, her pathetic reputation would become even more pathetic and she wouldn't even be fit for babysitting services anymore.
Maybe she should try to confide in him, she thought, tossing the idea around, weighing the cons and pros. If she did, he wouldn't feel the need to immediately seek others out for assistance, but that would also mean she would have to lay her insides out on a table and vulnerably watch as he categorized and sorted through them.
Neither option was appealing, but if she had no choice, she supposed divulging herself to him was the lesser of two evils. Her future seemed very bleak at the moment.
With a clipped sigh, she rolled off her bed and absently stood in front of her mirror. A whisper of a haze still remained, but without thought, she stripped out of her uniform, letting it fall in crumpled waves of scarlet fabric around her feet. Peeling off her shorts, she added it to the pile. Standing clad in her underwear and bra, she stood silently – thoughtfully – critically.
She was skinny – too skinny in some areas like her hips which stuck out to points. Her collarbone was very pronounced, and her wrists were rather dainty. She didn't have that nice hour-glass curve to her waist like Ino did, or Tenten's shapely legs. Her eyes averted to her chest, quickly noting that it wasn't as big as it maybe could be – almost underdeveloped if you compared them to her friends. All she had was her hair, which was a rather weak point in beauty, she thought dejectedly.
Years before Ino had decided to keep her pale locks cropped to a shorter length, whereas Sakura indulged in growing hers out again...maybe it was a statement that she was different from her friend, she wasn't quite sure.
She thought back to her mother and her bantering concerning the length of her hair, saying it wasn't fit for a ninja and that some may think she wastrying to hide something, which in truth she was, but they didn't need to know that. Nobody needed to know that.What did it matterif she used her hair as a makeshift hideaway; if she hid behind it when she felt embarrassed, or used it as a veil when the world was too overbearing. She could even hide some of her body's insecurities from the long mane as well. She supposed that people with short hair had better confidence in themselves. Either way, she wasn't going to change it.
Maybe Kakashi wouldn't have sent me away if I was Ino.
The thought was a little discouraging and she wondered if the pinch in her stomach was related to jealousy or not.
A frown pulled at her lips as she continued to scrutinize her appearance. It wasn't feminine nor was it masculine – she felt almost androgynous. She had never considered herself unbearably unattractive, but that idea didn't seem to be so far stretched as she used to think. With that in mind, she slumped against her windowsill, not making an effort to pull her clothes back on. It didn't matter. Nothing really seemed to matter. She was numb.
Lying on his bed, Kakashi bore a hole through his ceiling. It had been four hours since she had left, yet he could not stop thinking about what had happened.
Everything was off. The situation, her, him – especially him! It seemed that Sakura had decided to switch courses after four years of being on the same track. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. The last few months little signs had been thrown in his face of the inevitable change, but even though he had anticipated it, he still wasn't prepared for it.
There was a distance to her now that there never used to be. She was more detached, tame, a shell of her former colourful self. She almost reminded him of Sasuke to a mild degree, the thought twisting his insides sourly. He would never let that happen. He would never want her to turn into a person who clung onto such reckless hate.
Even though tonight had created more questions and mysteries, he felt as if some answers might have been solved as well. He had seen something deep and dark inside of her, and he knew she was letting it harvest and grow. He felt guilty for having used his Sharingan on her without her knowledge, feeling as if he had done something taboo, but when he had peered inside he had solved the anonymity she was keeping.
There was a part of her that was as black as night, coiled within itself and cultivating – he saw her trying to fight it, to war it off and keep it contained in a container too small. He wished he had had more time – time to delve deeper and sort through that black slithering mess, but that would also mean her knowing. He could only probe so deep until the person was aware.
He sighed. A mystery solved and a mystery gained. He had discovered a part of her which he was positive no one was sentient about, but just because he knew of it didn't mean he knew what the darkness was, what it represented and what it meant; he just knew it was there – foreboding like a rain storm.
In the beginning his intentions had been straight and clear: to make her drop her guard so he could creep past the titanium wall that she had fortified herself with, and luckily for him it had worked brilliantly (not that he had expected anything else).
Unfortunately somewhere along the way, things had changed. His goal had still been there, but it was cloudy, disarrayed, and forced not completely unwillingly into the background. Never had he let his purpose become so sidetracked – mission or otherwise – and so quickly too. He was certain it had been completely lost at one moment, but he had saved himself, and she had assisted him unknowingly when she spoke of his eyes.
Then, like a can of oil on a gear, things had glided and chugged into place. His objective was pushed forward once again, staring him in the eye like the tip of a sword, and that was when he had discovered the other hidden Sakura. It had only taken a few seconds with his Sharingan, but it had been enough, and thankfully she had been so far gone that she hadn't suspected any clandestine agenda. And that was when it was over, or at least when it should have been over – but he had asked, and she had said yes, making his body itch with a frightening anticipation.
So he had continued – placing his hands on her legs which felt too rough against the smoothness of her skin – doing it against his better judgment and giving him a count of twice he had gone against his instinct. He briefly thought of how she was feeling, what she was thinking, and if she could remember anything that happened.
There was a good chance she had felt his chakra slip into her system, activating the Jutsu which crumbled her titanium wall – sending her into a state of euphoria which she had no idea she stepped into.
It was a medical Jutsu, used for injuries and surgery, the act burning heaps of chakra with the resulting effect acting like one large shot of morphine – but he had rationalized there were no rules stating how to use the Jutsu – it had just turned out to be positively perfect. It was strong and effective, and also one of the only ideas he could come up with. GenJutsu was out of the question – she would break it immediately and question him in what he was doing, leaving him two steps behind where he had started.
The Jutsu wasn't overly complicated for the practiced soul, just taking loads of concentration as he slipped his chakra in to trigger her endorphins and stimulate her endocrine glands – the outcome sending her body into a state of unawareness, counteracting against all pain and heightening her senses. He hadn't had much exercise with the technique although she still should have felt a sensation more responsive than usual due to the lack of pain receptors.
The after effects consisted of grogginess and turmoil, as if the person had been drugged or drunk the night before. Their memory of events would be misplaced, confused, or most commonly forgotten. The amnesia wasn't always necessary, but offered a nice little perk. Most were never too fond of remembering their own suffering.
So he had understood that she wasn't herself when she had unzipped her dress; that she didn't know and comprehend the implications she was hurtling at him. He knew this but that still didn't stop the flow of ideas that danced and waltzed through his mind, making him want to yell out in frustration; shake her till her senses came back; then throttle her for putting him in such a position to begin with. Yes, he wanted to do all of those things, but he couldn't and he wouldn't, because it was his fault from the start.
It was his fault for her condition, and it was still his fault that she had been hurt and confused. He had pushed it when he used the Jutsu on her twice when it wasn't even necessary the second time. He had had his answer, completed his goal, and yet he had selfishly continued – enjoying her contorted expressions – the sounds caught in her throat – her grip on the couch – the flush of her body.
He had been focused, distracted, unaware of what might have happened when he stopped, but he knew as soon as she had stared at him – her eyes clouded over, her body a frisson of chaos – that he had gone too far and had pushed her into something she had no idea she fell into.
What would he do if she ever found out what he did? Tell her his heart was in the right place before it got sidetracked by smooth skin and soft whimpers? But she didn't know – she was helplessly blind and clueless, something he felt happy yet guilty about at the same time. She would never know how he had reacted to her tonight, in both mind and body. He would keep the knowledge trapped within, with no amount of persuasion letting it free.
Maybe this is how she felt; keeping something locked up, letting it rankle and fester your insides with no one to confide or divulge in. If this is how she felt, then it meant she was ashamed about something – too ashamed to seek someone out for guidance. But what on earth did a sixteen year old girl feel ashamed about? He wasn't exactly an expert on the topic.
So much for being an observant teacher, he thought, the realization pinching his gut and coating it with a nauseating guilt. Even though he had never had any kids of his own, he was supposed to represent a tutor and a father figure in one. He knew at times he didn't par up with the image – the label – the expectations, but he tried and felt he did a satisfactory job, although now with Sakura it seemed he would have to do a little evaluation.
Reaching back without looking, he felt for the picture frame that sat on his windowsill. He glanced at the three smiling faces in the picture – well one smiling face and two scowls, not to mention his own masked one in the center.
She was happier back then – she showed it with her eyes, her smiles, her jokes and her laughter. She still laughed and smiled now, but it took effort whereas it used to be effortless – it was a shadow that was a light, meek and docile in its manner.
Looking at the picture again, his mind quickly compared the twelve year old genin to the sixteen year old chuunin in his mind. He frowned then for two reasons. One was because the image he was imagining was when she had unzipped her dress, leaving it to hang open for him to view her innocent white cotton bra; and two, was because he noticed and realized something slightly disheartening: she had lost weight; enough to make it apparent and enough to make him worry.
Now when he envisioned her with her dress unzipped, he was seeing clear smooth clavicles (amongst other things) more pronounced than should be and the barely discernable features of hip bones. Was it some weird new diet?
Closing his eyes he tried to war off the feelings of rage that built within him. He was mad – mad at himself for not noticing all of these things earlier. He should have sat down and sorted through them a long time ago so then maybe she could have been on the road to recovery already. So why had the famous Copy-nin, known for his perception and observational skills become blinded by pink hair and green eyes? Was it because he furnished more attention on Sasuke and Naruto that he didn't notice her? Or was it that his subconscious wouldn't let him face the truth; the truth that he had let her down as a friend and a mentor?
He didn't know, only adding onto the ever-growing list that was once beautifully short. Forcing himself to calm his anger, he needed to continue sorting through everything Sakura related, and he couldn't achieve that with a mind bent on fury, in fact, the only way he knew he would get answers was to confront the girl head on.
Such a thing would be tricky and fragile. She would be outraged – furious at him for knowing something she had dug so deep, and it would only add onto her present anger which she displayed just hours before; anger which was rightly justified.
Placing the picture frame back in its spot, he sighed. Come tomorrow, things were going to become unpleasant.
This chapter was kinda odd…no dialogue whatsoever, which is unusual for me cuz I love my dialogue! I wonder if this answered people's questions or confused em even more. In a nutshell Kakashi used a medic Jutsu to relax Sakura and peer inside her with his Sharingan more easily (yay to you Tami for figuring some of it out!) trying to figure out what was wrong with her, but now Sakura has no memory at all of what happened during that time cuz of the side effects O.o
tsk tsk Kakashi, such a bad boy he is. So whoever wants to spank him with me, leave a review and we can all take turns hitting that firm buttocks of his lol kidding kidding…or am I…?
One last thing, my next chapter I figure to be quite long, so do you want it split up or just to keep it long? You guys decide. Ciao for now!