Chapter Six
Changing
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The path down to the village was winding and overrun with weeds - it was obvious no one had walked this way of late. Sakura picked her way along it, envying Kakashi's sure-footed gait. She wished, not for the first time, that they'd taken the easy option and simply reappeared down the bottom in a puff of ninjutsu.
Kakashi would hear nothing of it, and it wasn't only that walking would apparently be good training ("You're still a chuunin, after all") but he also didn't want to advertise the fact that they were both shinobi. To that end he'd moved to take drastic measures after he'd finally decided that they would enter the village.
He'd deliberated for a very long time. Afternoon had melted into early evening, and she'd been lying down, draped over a low branch when he returned. She rolled off and dropped to the ground, expectant.
"We will be going into the village."
She nodded but he wasn't watching, crossing purposefully to his pack and withdrawing a small cloth bag.
She watched as he pulled it open and removed a number of interesting objects: an eyepatch; some cigarettes; what looked like a false beard; pots of makeup; and finally, the items she supposed he'd been looking for, a handful of small packets. She moved closer, intrigued.
"What are those?" she asked, wondering what he was planning to do with an eyepatch and cigarettes. Well, and the other things.
"Dye," he answered, holding each one up to what was left of the afternoon sunlight, squinting through the greased paper. He put one to the side immediately but kept going through the rest, adding them to what she assumed was the reject pile. When he'd decided on two packets, he returned the remainder to the bag and reached out, handing one to her.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Her clothes were looking fairly shabby but she didn't really think a change of colour would improve their overall appeal.
He grinned, and she had a second to marvel at his unmasked face before he answered, "Your hair."
Horrified, her fingers flew to her scalp. Her hair? She kept it short because it was easier to care for that way, and it kept it away from patients when she was helping out at the hospital. And of course, she'd made that big stand about vanity and perserverance all those years ago at the first chuunin exam, and she couldn't really change her image back after that.
But to make it a different colour! Sakura's mother had always affectionately called her "little coral top" and it was truly her secret pride, a natural pink that no packet could emulate.
She looked fearfully at the innocuous packet sitting in her palm. It taunted her, threatening to expose her selfishness, and she clutched frantically for an excuse that Kakashi would accept.
Then, something clicked. Two packets.
"Hold on!" she cried, a horrible thought taking shape in her mind. He glanced up, the sunset catching on his forehead protector and slanting into her eyes. "You don't...you're not dying your hair too, are you?"
She couldn't fully explain why the idea pained her, but it did. To think of Kakashi changing, becoming someone else...his being, his image were the only constants in her current existence. She didn't know how to cope with this.
"Of course," he replied, regarding her oddly. "By now it will be known that our "mission" has taken much longer than anticipated, and two more missing-nin will have been added to the pages of the Bingo book in Konoha. And really, Sakura, neither of us are inconspicuous." He indicated her hair, then his own. "You would have been taught back at the academy that a ninja can't rely only on their jutsu and chakra. A true shinobi uses whatever is available in order to succeed, and that is what we're doing."
She couldn't really object, when he put it like that.
----
They mixed the foul-smelling poultices according to Kakashi's half-remembered instructions, and he assured her it would rinse out over time.
"Even if it doesn't," he added, not helping matters at all, "one of these packets is an agent that will remove any traces of the dye."
Sakura convinced him to go first, and he sat uncomplaining while she combed the goo through his hair. She smoothed it across his scalp until it seemed like he'd been dipped in tar, then looked mournfully at her stained fingers.
"Will this come off?" she wondered aloud, and Kakashi recalled that an ANBU had wiped it off with sake.
"Although," he considered, "any alcohol should do."
She was fortunate enough to have packed a small vial of rubbing alcohol to use as a disinfectant, and trying it, was relieved to discover it worked. She scraped the excess off slowly, and pretended not to notice when Kakashi indicated it was her turn.
"Sakura." She knew it was childish, and that it would (probably) rinse out, but she liked her hair, dammit. She'd been teased about its colour long before anyone had noticed her large forehead, but she'd grown to love both as unique components that made her an individual. "You can't put this off forever."
He waited patiently, the mixture at the ready, and she said goodbye to her vanity before sitting heavily on the stump they were using as a barber's chair.
She loosened her forehead protector and slid it off, gripping the metal plate tightly. "Okay," she said, determined to be mature about this.
"It's not a matter of life and death," he said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. And then they were quiet, because for all they knew, it could be.
He slathered some mixture onto her head, and she jumped as the cool wetness met her skin. When she'd put his on, she'd sectioned each area, making sure the roots were covered before dragging it out along the tips. Kakashi evidently wanted to get as much on as quickly as possible, and made short work of emptying the basin before putting it on the ground and adding a second hand to the equation.
He massaged the poultice into her scalp, strong hands moving carefully, and - she was scandalised to find herself thinking such a thing - almost sensually across her skull. She couldn't remember the last time she'd be touched so intimately and surrendered to the soothing motions, even if it was something as unromantic as having dye rubbed into her hair.
Her head lolled. She was so relaxed, so comfortable...surely Kakashi wouldn't mind if she just drifted off to sleep for a bit? She wondered drowsily where he'd learned to massage like that when he gave her a sharp pat on her crown, jolting her back to wakefulness.
"All done," he said, taking the vial from her slack grip and soaking a strip of his old shirt to clean his hands. She jerked her neck experimentally. The mixture made her head feel heavy and she hoped no enemy-nin were lurking nearby because they were at their most unglamourous and it would be rather difficult to fight all lopsided like this.
"How long?" she asked, pointing at her slimy scalp.
He looked thoughtful. "About an hour, as I recall."
"So what do we do now?"
He grinned, and under his dark, sticky helmet he looked ten years younger. With a lurch, she remembered Ino's confession from the day they left.
Really Sakura...Kakashi-san is fine the way he is, mysterious and aloof. Although I imagine he'd need to take that mask off for some things...
She'd forgotten all about Ino's feelings. She supposed she had an excuse what with running for her life and battling enemy-ninja but she felt terrible, a worthless friend. She made a mental promise to slip in a few Ino stories at their earliest convenience.
"That's easy. We get ready."
----
They reached the village after nightfall, at a time when most families were either having dinner or settling down to sleep, depending on how early they needed to rise in the morning. It was all part of Kakashi's plan as they'd be subjected to less questions stumbling in under the guise of weary travellers later in the evening.
Not that he could find anything even remotely questionable about their story or appearance. They'd decided that Sakura was the only daughter of a wealthy landowner who had died in a dubious "accident"; to prevent anything similar happening to herself she'd employed an older, semi-retired ninja to take care of her and deliver her safely to relatives who lived in the Earth Country.
And they looked...they looked very different. Aware that his mask-wearing quirk was fairly well known, he'd opted not to wear his spare. It had been hard to cast aside, but it was truly a double-edged sword. Any anonymity he felt it gave him was immediately cancelled out by enemies able to recognise him on sight. But still...without it he felt almost naked.
He'd adopted it shortly after his father died. He hated the inevitable comparisons, the furtive whispers that had started at the funeral.
"--looks just like his father--"
"--dark eyes and silver hair, you know --"
"--suppose he'll turn out the same way?"
That very night he'd taken his father's old shortsword and hacked at his head until hardly any hair remained. Anything to remove reminders of the White Fang's hated legacy.
So he went without the mask, and chose to wear the eyepatch instead, needing to cover up the Sharingan at the very least. All in all, he felt rather dashing; Sakura had flatly told him he looked like a bandit.
His hair, dry now after cleaning off the excess dye, was a dull, uncompromising black. He'd made Sakura emphasize the "older" part of the ninja story because he expected the colour wouldn't last that long, and patches of silver were easily explained by age.
Sakura's packet of dye had been newer, and he hoped it would stick, since pink regrowth would seem rather strange now that she was a brunette. It was a plain, nondescript brown, and it worked well at dulling her features. Hopefully no one would look twice and see the strength in her eyes or the determined cast to her face.
He could argue that all of this was unnecessary; they could have simply used a genjutsu to alter their appearance. But he was reluctant to put faith in their own illusionary abilities now that they were facing someone with skills that could fool the Sharingan. If they attracted attention, their hasty disguises would mean nothing. The point, however, was to avoid that attention; and if they managed to do that, he was confident they could bide unchallenged here for a few days at least. He wasn't certain the enemy-nin had come from here in the first place; it could be merely coincidental they'd been attacked within three days' walk of the village.
If he'd learned anything in his life, it was that nothing was coincidental.
Behind him, Sakura tripped, and he heard her muttering angrily at a tree root that had apparently come out of nowhere. At least he wouldn't have to instruct her to walk less gracefully. After so many years he moved like a ninja, and to a trained eye he would never be anything but. So to prevent interest they'd settled on making him an aging chuunin with too much time on his hands, happy to accept this run-of-the-mill mission.
Their stories set, their disguises intact, they entered the township.
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They found an inn without much difficulty, the lodging symbol painted brightly on a board that swung from the second floor. The few stragglers out and about at this time of evening hadn't even glanced at them, and Kakashi thanked once more the ANBU travel kit that had somehow made its way into his pack.
He released a pent-up breath when they stood safely in the lobby, and reminded himself that it was far from over, although it was certainly a relief to have the initial hurdle dealt with for the most part.
They waited a few minutes before Sakura's patience deserted her, and she reached out, picking up the little bell on the reception desk and giving it a shake.
As if summoned by a jutsu, the innkeeper shuffled out from a back room, mumbling fiercely about late-night callers. He plonked a bottle of sake on the counter and squinted at them with bleary eyes.
"What do you want?" The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and beside him Kakashi felt Sakura physically recoil from the stench.
"A room, if possible," Kakashi replied, keeping his features calm. What a stroke of luck! People were more susceptible to jutsus when inebriated, so on the off chance anything went wrong it wouldn't be a problem dealing with him.
The man grunted and managed to look both very drunk and somewhat disdainful, quite a feat in his current condition. He was wide and stout, as most innkeepers are wont to be, and a brush of wiry hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. A once snowy apron strained across his broad waist, but remnants of a good many dinners had speckled it over time.
"Payment up front."
Kakashi nodded - he'd expected no less - and handed over the coins without argument. Their hair might be clean but their clothing certainly wasn't, and if they had any funds left over it would be in their best interest to purchase replacements tomorrow.
Food, supplies, a change of clothes - he hoped the money he'd packed would cover the costs.
The other man grunted again, moving behind the desk and pulling out an ancient-looking registry scroll, which he then thumped onto the tabletop. With a long-suffering sigh he unwound its binding and unrolled it to a free frame where he waited, ink brush poised.
They watched him, uncomprehending.
"Your names?" he snapped and Kakashi gave him the false ones they'd decided upon, surprised when he wrote them in a clear and graceful hand. He blew savagely on the parchment then wrapped it back up again impatiently, before unlooping a key from a ring on his belt and handing it to Sakura.
"Upstairs on the left," he informed her tersely, grabbing back the sake bottle and lurching off, back through the door he'd first appeared from. It swung shut with an audible click, and they shared a glance, astonished yet amused by the man's actions. They helped themselves to a lantern from a nearby table, then shouldering their packs, made their way upstairs.
The inn was small, and had only the two stories, so they found their room easily enough. Sakura burst out laughing when she examined the key, and she held it out so he could share the joke.
"Our room number is seven," she commented, extremely entertained. "I choose to take that as a positive sign."
"Yes, surely it is fate," he drawled, taking the key and unlocking the door.
"No, really," she argued, following him in and setting her pack on the floor. "What are the chances?"
He considered the size of their room in comparison to the rest of the building. "One in about ten?"
"Oh." She deflated. "I just thought...you know..."
He did. And for a moment he wanted to be seventeen again, looking at the world through naive and optimistic eyes. Or even one eye, he thought humourously, a wry smile twisting at his lips. But his youth had been and gone, over far too quickly, the innocent years of his life able to be counted on the fingers of one hand. The future was what he should be worried about, and how he was to protect Sakura's future with his own.
He lowered his pack. The room was small as well: one bed; a washstand set before a tiny mirror on the wall; and a single chair tucked away in a corner. A door led into what he assumed was the bathroom, and a narrow cupboard sat beside it, tall and thin. It was positively luxurious compared to what they'd endured over the last few months, and suddenly it was all he could do to stay awake. The kunai wound had healed quickly, but it still tingled occasionally, and he had a slight headache from whatever powdered root had given his hair its new hue. He stifled a yawn and crossed to the washbasin, removing the bandit eyepatch before washing his face. He watched in the mirror as Sakura readied the bed, adjusting the pillows and unfolding an extra blanket from the bottom of the mattress. Wiping his face with the towel provided, they swapped places, letting Sakura have her turn to freshen up.
He sat on one side of the bed, leaning over to unfasten his sandals, setting them under the chair in the corner of the room. He removed his jacket and undershirt but kept on his trousers, mindful of the fact they'd be sharing the bed and he didn't consider it proper to curl up next to his student half-naked.
He pulled back the covers as Sakura followed suit, stripping down to a singlet and her undershorts, folding her shirt and medic-skirt over on the chair.
"You ready?" she asked, moving to turn down the lantern. He nodded.
The room plunged into darkness and he felt her cross the room and get into the bed, the mattress depressing slightly under her weight.
"Good night," she whispered and he murmured a reply, before sleep overtook him and he was out like a light.
-----
Sakura sensed when his breathing slowed and deepened, and she sighed in relief before flopping back onto her pillow. His chakra wound bothered her still; it was healing, but very gradually. She'd redrawn the seal but something still wasn't right, and she was certain he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep these last few nights. Usually he rested very lightly, constantly on the alert, and she felt a sudden rush of warmth knowing that he trusted her so implicitly he was able to sleep easily in her presence.
Moonlight filtered in though the room's single window, washing across the floor and illuminating Kakashi's face. She never tired of seeing it unmasked - she supposed it was like any mystery finally revealed and she had to keep checking that it was real, reassuring herself that this smooth-faced stranger was really him. From this angle, he was almost handsome and again her thoughts returned to Ino's fierce admission from all those months ago.
Overcome with what felt a bit like guilt, she looked away and then rolled over, trying to make herself comfortable. She'd done nothing to be guilty about, so why was it gnawing at her? Maybe it was just that Ino was one of her closest friends, and Sakura hadn't thought of her very often during their estrangement from Konoha. Maybe it was that she hadn't done as the other girl had asked, and put in a good word for her with Kakashi.
Or maybe it was something else that she didn't even dare to consider, a thought so precious and elusive it wouldn't even form.
Plagued by the unsettling knowledge that an answer hovered just out of reach, she turned on her side and looked out the window, seeking solace in the soothing light and constant presence of the moon. Don't be silly, she chided herself. Just concentrate on getting through this. No need to distract and second-guess yourself every step of the way.
Hoping very much that everything would seem less confusing in the morning, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
----
Kakashi dreamed.
It began in the past, as many of his dreams did, high above the floor of a forest near the Hidden Rock Village. He and Obito had gone their separate ways, but moments after parting Kakashi's sense of responsibility had taunted him, asking him jeeringly if this was really the right thing to do. A brief struggle with his conscience, and he was following one teammate to the other, Obito's words from earlier ringing in his ears.
"Those in the ninja world who break the rules and regulations are called trash," he'd said, his normally weak and placid face taut with the strength of his conviction. "But those who don't care about their companions are even worse trash!"
Trash, eh? Kakashi mused, coming to land on a branch above Obito, who had concealed himself and was watching the two enemy-nin talk amongst themselves below. He could see Rin, tied in front of a rock, flopping limply over her bindings and he wondered if they were already too late, if his refusal to follow immediately had signaled her death regardless.
And then one of the enemy-nin vanished, melting into the rock face and reappearing through the bole of the tree Obito unwittingly shared with Kakashi. Without even thinking Kakashi threw himself downwards, slicing at the ninja before he could reach his teammate, imbuing his blade with chakra to strengthen the hit.
The dream skipped forward - he knew they had spoken, the enemy-nin and himself - but suddenly he was flying backwards and there was something wrong with his field of vision, something had happened to his left eye. He remembered there had been pain, sharp and stinging, but because this was a dream he was detached and it was a relief to not have to live through it again. Once had been enough.
The kunai had gouged him deeply, etching a neat path down the side of his face. It dug into the unresisting flesh of his eyelid and cut open his eye, rendering it useless in a single slice. Blood and other fluids seeped out over his cheek and he fought to remain steady, losing his balance from the impetus of the strike. Obito clutched at him, keeping him upright, before time and space shifted around them and their positions were reversed.
Now he was looking down at Obito, who lay crushed beneath a fall of stone, a peaceful cast to his features. He seemed to know death was just around the corner and had come to terms with it, offering his eye to Kakashi as a farewell gift. Numb with disbelief at how events had transpired, he'd accepted.
Rin had completed the transplant with seconds to spare, just before an enemy-nin discovered them and blasted their hideout to rubble. When the dust cleared Kakashi stood alone, tears leaking from his closed eye and running down his ruined cheek.
"Come on, crybaby," the enemy-nin taunted. "I'll break you apart!"
He opened his eyes.
Now he was kneeling atop a rocky cliff, rain blurring his vision as he looked down at Naruto's prone form, peaceful and serene beside the scored hitai-ate that Sasuke had left behind. Maybe he was dead; Kakashi wasn't sure, and a familiar numbness spread through his body, dulling his senses and mentally preparing him for another loss.
If it was Naruto's fate to die like this, then surely it was Kakashi's curse to keep on living, to always be the last one standing as everyone he'd ever let close was torn cruelly from his grasp.
He reached out to pick up the young boy's body, but when his hands closed around a lifeless corpse he realised it was Sakura, and she'd been killed too because of his stupidity, his inadequacy, his inability to protect his precious people.
The numbness shattered and became a dull and throbbing ache. Pain lanced from the wound on his shoulder and he howled his hurt and frustration as the rain steamed around him, hissing into vapour as flames appeared from nowhere. He was hemmed in, a circle of fire leaping into existence, trapping him within even as Sakura's body faded from his grasp. He scrabbled frantically for her but she was gone, the heat from the flames intense and dry --
-- and then he awoke with a start only to realise the fire was not a figment of his imagination, but a real, live blaze. Smoke clouded the room as flames licked at the walls, the mirror cracking ominously from the intensity of the heat. He coughed, bringing a hand to his mouth, then looked down at Sakura, who lay beside him, dangerously still. He sat up, hurriedly considering reasons for their situation, and everything he thought of came right back to one thing.
The inn was on fire.
They'd been found.
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Merry Christmas! I hope everyone has a great holiday and doesn't have to work, unlike me. :( Thanks to the usual peeps, you know who you are.
I also wanted to address a rather quirky coincidence - sakura blossom left me a review yesterday which contained the following: shouldn't they disguise themselves before they enter the village? After all, i'm sure that a person wil silver or pink hair is pretty noticeable, no one else has that color hair in the entire manga unless they're old, then they have silver hair. sakura definately needs to dye her hair. I just wanted to point out, that in a random flash of irony, they DO dye their hair. I've had this chapter written for nearly two weeks, and the day before I put it up, I get a review that guesses the story. Go figure.
Thanks as well to everyone who reads and reviews, I love hearing from you. :)