Note: A small piece from Sakura's POV, Post "Coffee's for Closers."

Inspo Song for this piece: Taylor Swift's "Epiphany."


As more of the general public learns of their relationship, as it becomes less breaking news and just another part of Konoha's daily life, she hears the sentiment more often: how good she is for their Hokage, how wonderful it is that there's someone looking after him after all this time.

And she understands the sentiment, as misplaced and presumptive as it is. As she came to learn Kakashi intimately over the years, even before their coupling, the desire to be a pillar of support for him grew equal to her desire to be one for both Naruto and Sasuke. Before life and war gave her more experience to chew on, she felt something akin to shame when standing with her teammates: the only one not an orphan, the only one who didn't know hardship growing up. She had sometimes wanted to cash in her privilege to live with them as equals both for her and for them. Since she couldn't do that, she had been determined to heal them in whatever way she was able.

And she thought she could do that, because she was, in fact, a healer.

Early on, she used to lament Kakashi's burdens and how they weighed on him. She would watch sometimes when he became quiet while weighing difficult decisions as Hokage, and thought about the literal lifetime of service he had given their nation. In those moments, she had earnestly shouldered the responsibility of showing Kakashi that his past, his guilt, his darkness were all things she cradled lovingly even as she showed him they couldn't hurt or disgust her. She also accepted the burdens that Kakashi could never bear: moments where she could privately hate Obito and his weakness of character, hate Rin and her selfishness, hate Sakumo and his neglect.

Now, still, she makes sure he doesn't overwork or over-worry himself. She eases away his nightmares with a light touch of her chakra against his arm in the dead of night. She can't wash away blood only Kakashi can see, but she lovingly wraps his hands for him when he doesn't wear gloves and shows her enthusiasm for every brush from those scarred palms against her skin.

So yes, she understands the public's line of thinking. But they don't consider, don't care about the other part of the equation.

There are many afternoons where Sakura comes home, quiet and numb, and the ghosts of the day's losses cling to her lab coat as though they will never leave. Some won't. But however long her hauntings remain, Kakashi is a fixture at her side with warm tea and a blanket to replace her work clothes.

And there are just as many nights when she can still feel the heat of the lava below her or feel the sting of acid ripping through her skin. There are times when she wakes panting from running in her nightmares, the sound of puppet chatter echoing in her ears or the shadow of of large white hand against her back, Kakashi's Susanoo nowhere in sight to save her.

Instead, blessedly, there is Kakashi's soothing murmurs calling her back to reality and his hands effortlessly pulling away sheets that become suffocating instead of soothing in the night.

In all these ways it is him that pulls her back and grounds her in place, something he'd already done a thousand different ways in all their time of knowing each other. And in those moments Sakura knows despite public opinion, he is good for her, too.