I don't own Naruto, but it means a lot to me.
If you had asked her to predict who her easiest patient would be, Hatake Kakashi would not have made even the extended version of that list. The Copy-Hokage had been a general thorn in her side from the day they'd first met.
"My first impression is…I don't like you."
The feeling had been very much mutual.
"Good morning, Sakura-chan!"
"Sensei." She groans, tired and nowhere near the levels of coffee she needed to be at for this hour. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" He asks, his voice the pinnacle of innocence. "Why, it's my favorite day with my most stable of pupils!"
Sakura snorts.
"I'm your only stable pupil."
"And I'm so very proud of you for it!" She doesn't need to see behind his mask to know he's smiling. She smiles back as she rounds her desk, settling into her chair across from her teacher.
They talk about life. About death and retirement and shogi nights with Guy and Shikamaru and Temari. They talk about the city, of the changes in the streets and the hospitals and the forests. They talk about Sasuke and Hinata and the children. Kakashi's a godfather twice over, and it felt like the only person who could talk about Sarada or Himawari more than their parents was the Rokudaime.
They talk about Naruto, too. Because of course.
They talk for what seems like hours, in and out of everything from history to gossip to business to gossip about business and history. The sun is starting to sink in her window, and the afternoon glow makes the room feel like they're wrapped in a blanket.
The only change is when, after a lengthy yet comfortable pause, Sakura frowns.
"Sensei." She says, breaking the peace and leaning back into her chair.
"Are you aware that I've been waving my hand in front of your face for the last ten minutes we've been talking?"
There's a pause, a wry and quiet chuckle that escapes the Copy-Ninja's lips. He leans back into his chair with a casual ease that belays his aging bones. Time comes for all, and the fighting days of the Sixth Hokage were nothing more than memories of days gone by. That's what her brain says, at least. Sakura's gut and four decades of ninja training just laugh. Hatake Kakashi has been hiding his fangs behind a mask for over sixty years — why should the final years of his life be any different?
Woe be the fool who thought they could still pull one over on the son of the White Fang.
"Oh, yes." He responds, but a single finger rises and taps underneath a white and paling pupil. "But not with these, if that's what you're asking."
Sakura doesn't know whether to sigh or laugh, but she's a practiced hand at these shenanigans.
"You're losing your sight? Not even a blur?" She queries. "And you didn't think to come to me sooner?"
Kakashi shrugs, relaxing his head against the back of his wheelchair. "I have some experience with vision loss. Losing sight for the third time just isn't as alarming as you'd think."
"Oh," Sakura concedes. "Well, okay then."
Kakashi nods, nearly blind eyes stretching into a thin smile. Sakura can think of a few choice words for the statement, but her eyes catch the wrinkles crossing along her master's face. Growing older was such a common journey for her and their peers, it was so easy for get that the concern wasn't just growing older but growing old. She bites her tongue and whips out a pen and paper.
"Well, it's not a problem." She decrees, scribbling a note in classic doctor-font. "We'll get you lined up for a corrective and should be able to get that back to full function in no time.
There's a breath, a slight hike, before Kakashi answers.
"About that…" he trails. He's cryptic enough for Sakura to glance up from her writing to meet his pensive gaze.
"I would actually like to politely decline that offer." He says.
Sakura blinks and puts down her pen.
"I'm sorry?"
"Ah, Sakura-chan." The man repeats. "I would like to decline you're offer.
"You don't…" she repeats, slower and unsure. Like trying to find even footing on uneven ice.
"You don't want me to what? What are you even declining?"
"Fix it." He answers. "Whatever you were planning to do to fix my vision. I decline."
"Fix it?"
Kakashi's hand's lean forward and extend onto her desk. Sakura notices that they just kind of sit there, waiting for her hands to meet them halfway. She reaches forward, and brittle fingers squeeze.
"I don't want you to fix me." He repeats. "Not this time."
"Sensei." She answers, her voice reflecting that she still isn't clear if this is a joke, but her tone tells that she's quickly losing patience. "I understand you may feel strongly about this, but this is your vision. You could just have cataracts — this could be entirely curable. You could have sight for another decade!"
Kakashi nods but doesn't release his hands.
"So, you say, Sakura. So, you say." He says back, his torso shaking with the quiet laugh, like a lone wolf in the woods. "But that's not what I want."
It's Sakura that releases their hold first, plopping back into her chair with a bewildered expression.
"Sensei I…" she tries, struggling to find the proper way to articulate how she feels.
"This is stupid."
Kakashi's eyes only crinkle deeper, his smile clearly growing beneath the mask.
"The battle cry to team 7 is it not?"
"I'm serious." She retorts. "I'm in no mood for jokes while you're sitting her declaring your refusal to my medical care."
"I know that this may be difficult for you to understand, Sakura." He says, and she feels like she's a child, again. Tied to a stump, stomach growling for attention. Being lectured to by someone stronger and wiser. "But I'm not losing my mind just because I don't want you to fix my vision. It's about my choice."
"Your…choice?" she balks. "You're choosing to lose one of your major senses."
"It's not that simple. I'm not losing anything."
"This is maddening." She all but growls. "What kind of riddles are these?"
"I'm not losing anything." He repeats, before turning a quizzical look to his student.
"Do you know the worst part of my sharingan, Sakura?"
The medic pauses, blinking at the question.
"What?"
"The worst part of my sharingan." He repeats. "Can you guess what it was?"
"I…don't know." She answers. "I suppose the chakra drain?"
"It was always on."
Sakura pauses, her breath caught on her lips. Kakashi only nods.
"Always on. Every movement, every action and whisper and color and sign." Kakashi seems to age a century as his vacant gaze holds forward. "The sharingan remembers everything, and I couldn't turn it off."
"You couldn't." she whispers. "You remember everything with photographic precision?"
Kakashi nods.
"Some things I don't mind. I still remember what you and Naruto and Sasuke used to look like as cute, adorable little children. But there's so much…" his voice flattens and feels strained, like a piece of string pulled too tightly on a cloth.
"I can't forget so much." His voice trails, and Sakura doesn't have a damn thing to say in reply. There's a pause that feels like decades before the former kage speaks again.
"It's not choosing to forgo my sight, Sakura." He continues. "I remember so much that I can't ever forget. So much I can't ever un-see. But these past few decades have been nothing but peace and happiness and I..."
Sakura realizes she hasn't ever seen Kakashi cry like this, and she's behind his chair in a moment. Her arms wrap around his chest, and his breath comes out in shuddered but relieved sighs.
"I think I finally saw things the way I wanted to, at the end." He says. "I think that's the note to end it on."
"I understand." She whispers, and she does. "You're an idiot, but I understand."
He doesn't answer, but they remain holding each other like that until the sun disappears on the horizon.
This was the last chapter finished. I had experimented with other health problems for Kakashi, but I just never vibed with them.
- Free Drinks
