The trees outside of her bedroom window were swaying, languorous despite the heavy breeze. There were birds chirping, and her parents laughing downstairs at some inane joke. She could hear the high voices of children playing in the street, along with the slight bustle of the awakening village centre.
She remembered vaguely that her alarm had sounded at its usual time, but she had already been awake. In fact, she had never slept, instead choosing to pore over the records laid out on her bedspread. And once morning had fully arisen, she still had not been dressed or yet gone to meet her team. It took a long time to read Kakashi's file, and by the time she was finally finished, she held no desire for sleep. She simply sat cross-legged on her bed and stared off in a daze, mentally berating herself.
She had set out under Shizune's orders to learn medicinal records. Learning her sensei's past was more than enough for one night, and she hardly felt better for having knowledge of this newfound information (granted, it had been Shizune's fault for including everything in the files). In the face of it, she barely even comprehended the fact that she was late. Moreover, she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to look at Kakashi the same way again. Part of his mystique was his shrouded history, and his cool demeanour; now that it'd been unearthed, all Sakura could recall were the empty eyes of a young boy in a hospital bed. How could she possibly face him knowing everything she did now? He clearly never wanted it to be known. He never wanted to talk about it.
You idiot! You shouldn't have read it! How could you go behind his back like this!? Forget everything—everything you read, everything you saw, all of it! You're a terrible student! Bad, bad Sakura!
The more she thought about it, the more she was terrified to face Kakashi-sensei. What if he sensed that somehow, in some way, she knew everything? About Sakumo, about Kannabi Bridge, about the Sharingan...about Obito. About how his team crumbled. Although there had been no information about Rin Nohara, Sakura could only assume the worst had happened to her, given that there was no record of her in the present. Minato Namikaze had saved the village, at the cost of his own life, when the Kyuubi attacked. Kakashi was the only one left, and it made her heart break.
She debated internally for what seemed like hours, scolding and alternately reasoning with herself in regular guilty intervals, until at least she gave a deep sigh. She still had not quite decided what to do; the sensiblity and insanity had fought tooth and nail, and though they could not quite come to an understanding, they both agreed that at the very least, she had better get dressed and meet her team. She left her house with the folders still sitting neatly in her semi-circle pattern. One had been glanced through; one had been skimmed; one had been ransacked.
She never even read Sasuke's file.
"Kakashi-sensei, where—" Naruto's speech was disrupted by a swift kick to his abdomen, sending him flying into a training post. It hadn't been a particularly hard kick, at least not by the usual standards, but any kick delivered by Kakashi was sure to leave its mark. He scrunched up his eyes, waited for the pain to subside, and tried to get up while retaining some dignity.
"Don't get distracted. It's good and all to keep a conversation, but don't let it hinder your reflexes."
The stare which Naruto set upon Kakashi was all too familiar. It was the same look he gave whenever he was feeling particularly petulant after one of the jounin's disapproving remarks. And, as per usual, it had only served to make Naruto more determined to beat him.
Kakashi smiled as the genin rushed forward. Riling him up was a sure-fire way to make him pay more attention.
"Where"—a punch came toward Kakashi from the left—"is"—a sweep of Kakashi's leg made Naruto jump out of the way—"Sakura-chan?" A shadow clone came down from the sky holding a rasengan. Kakashi jumped out of its reach with ease, though noting the sizable chunk of earth it had moved.
"I thought maybe you knew, Naruto. It's not my job to keep tabs on the three of you."
"Hmph." Naruto made a face. "But Sakura is never late to training! And we already went to the hospital to visit Sasuke, so she cant be there again...right..." He mumbled off.
Kakashi sighed. "Sakura is branching off into her own area of expertise, one which I have no ability to teach her. Don't expect her to be around as often training with you."
"But...we always train, at least every other day!"
"She's probably busy. She has been for a while now. And, speaking of training, I think this'll be a good opportunity to hone your tracking skills." He pulled out Icha Icha Paradise lazily, turning to lean on the training post he'd kicked Naruto into previously. "If you want to find her so badly, track her down and disrupt her," said Kakashi. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Just don't blame me when she punches you in the face."
At that, Naruto practically scoffed. "You just want me out of your way so you can read your stupid book."
"Yep."
He glared at the jounin as if deciding whether to try and punch him or not. He seemed to decide that it wouldn't be the best of ideas (he would have been right), then promptly ran in the direction of Hokage tower, where he was sure he'd find Sakura. "When I find her, we're all training together!" he yelled behind him before disappearing from sight.
Kakashi smiled at the blond before settling in for some Icha Icha time. Or, he would have, if not for the sense of somebody approaching from the opposite end of the training field, in the direction of the memorial stone.
"Oh. Good morning, Sakura. You aren't being sneaky, but nice of you to join anyway."
When he spoke, she had given an audible gasp before hesitantly stepping out into view. It appeared as if she'd been hiding behind a tree, though she should've known by now that that would never work on him. Having been found out much earlier than she intended, she walked toward her sensei with a slow, uneasy gait.
"...Good morning, Kakashi-sensei."
"Yo." He flashed her a quick smile with his eyes before turning them again to his book.
"Um...where'd Naruto go? I saw him running off."
"To find you, actually."
"Ah..." He was always so damnably succinct.
What followed could only be described as an awkward silence. She stood facing him as he faced the pages. It lasted precisely nine (long) seconds before Sakura willed herself to speak once more. She found it much more difficult to talk in light of her findings, of course, but that wasn't the only cause of her hesitation: unlike practically every other time when Team Seven met for training, Kakashi and Sakura were alone. It was...strange. Every time they were together, attention was primarily paid to Naruto or Sasuke. Or both. Or all three of them at once. Hardly ever was it on Sakura alone.
But even now, he was still reading Icha Icha Paradise. Not even sparing her a glance.
She coughed to attract his attention. "Kakashi-sensei, shouldn't we, uh, train? Or something."
"Or something." His eyes finally glanced up to meet hers. "You have something to say."
She started a bit, though perhaps a bit in mock surprise. She hadn't wanted to be this overt about it. "Why would y-you say that?" Of course, of course he could sense it, of course he could, Sakura, you idiot, you didn't honestly think he wouldn't know you—
"Sakura." The glancing of eyes had become a cold stare. It was a familiar stare, one which he fixed upon his students every so often when delivering a lesson he viewed as vital. It was the same expression he wore when lecturing about teamwork and co-operation. It was one of cold, yet still soothing, authority. "Don't try to lie to me. You obviously wanted to speak to me privately, or else you wouldn't have waited for Naruto to leave. You didn't come closer until I sent him away."
Her eyebrows knitted in an imitation of shock, ready to refute his claim with a series of "Of course not!" and "No I didn't!" She was prepared with a series of negatories, but when Sakura opened her mouth, she found herself immediately closing it. She couldn't rebuke that—or, rather, she couldn't bring herself too. Because as much as Sakura preferred to be right, she just couldn't force herself to lie.
Why was she even stalling in the first place? Kakashi would find out she knew sooner or later. Sakura was terrible at keeping secrets, as evidenced by her chief instinct to tell him. Actually, no, it wasn't stalling; it was just too damn hard to say it. As much as she knew her sensei, there was no telling how he'd react to this.
He had never brought up Kannabi Bridge, nor any other mission from his youth. Namikaze never earned a mention except upon rare occasion: being the Yondaime Hokage, he was brought up now and again. Rin Nohara and Obito Uchiha were two names completely foreign, and likely not names which Kakashi had even said aloud in years. They were merely written on the memorial stone, off to the side of the very training ground they stood in. Would Kakashi shout at her for breaking his trust and delving into his private life? Would he ignore what she said altogether and continue reading Icha Icha? Would he break down into wracking sobs and oodles of tears? (Sakura severely doubted this last one even as possibility; no matter the circumstance, Kakashi Hatake of the Sharingan would never cry.)
Ah, to hell with it. Say it, Sakura, say it, she thought. But do it...slowly.
With that, she took a in a large inhalation of air and silently took several steps in the direction of the memorial stone. Kakashi followed close behind. His book was still open, but he wasn't currently reading it, at least. They stopped several feet from the stone, its flowers arranged neatly at its base, Sakura taking a second to plan what she'd say. There was no going back now, so making sure she didn't say something stupid was now her biggest priority.
"Kakashi-sensei," she began, almost sounding strained to his ears. "Do...do you remember when we first trained here? When we first saw this stone." She paused a moment, hunting for just the right words. "'The names of my closest friends are engraved here.' That's what you said."
"Yes, I recall," he said. Kakashi eyed her with...an odd look. One which she could not place right away. "...And you'd like to know more, I assume." Just before she could decipher it, the strange look had gone with nary a single facial movement.
Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe it was just his face.
"Um...actually, yes. I would like to know more." You already know all you need to, Sakura. "Can you...tell me about them? Please?" What, straight from the horse's mouth? You saw the photographs, he was depressed, a terrible time for him, don't dig up his past, you absolute incompetent.
The book at some point had been tucked back into his point, not even garnering Sakura's notice. His hands lay at his sides, the same blank, half-lidded expression he seemed to wear by default pasted onto his face. Yet a different air was about him as he looked at her. It was...calculating. He seemed to be evaluating her. Perhaps searching for the words. Then, he decided to speak.
"I said that my friends' names were on this stone, but that's only a half-truth. To me, they were far more than that." He set Sakura with another of his authoritative gazes. "They were my team."
Sakura swallowed. Her mouth was exceedingly dry. Something in the situation had become far heavier than she had first anticipated. "So...your whole team is on that stone...?"
"Oh, no. Only one of their names is etched on this particular stone." He looked toward the imposing grey stone of the sharp memorial, looking thoughtful. "My best friend was a knucklehead." He paused in his speech for a brief moment. His next words were delivered in a surprisingly soft tone, and Sakura got the distinct impression that right there and right then, Kakashi was not standing in front of her anymore—not really. "He was always the first to rush in without thinking and getting himself into trouble." His body remained, sure, but his eyes were ages away; reliving a moment from his past, she suspected.
His gaze had drifted down toward the stone with a smile playing at his lips, still visible beneath the mask. His hands were in his pants' pockets, comfortably speaking of his memories. And right then, Sakura realised the full extent of what had just happened. Kakashi Hatake had opened up, if only by the slightest smidgen of the definition. But even by that smidgen, she had one up on both Naruto and Sasuke's knowledge of their teacher put together (well, of course she had far more knowledge now, thanks to the records, but who's paying any attention to little details like that, really?). Sakura felt the need to push further, draw more out of him.
"Um...sensei...what was his name? If-If you don't mind me asking," she delivered with hurried assurance. If she had been correct in her assumption, then these people, long since dead and gone, hadn't been brought up to Kakashi much in the past years. Maybe he was one of those people that can't bear to mention the dead, or maybe he'd be mad at her for pushing, or maybe—
"Obito."
He was staring at the stone as he uttered those three syllables, with a pained angle to his brow. But it wasn't completely of pain; Sakura could tell that it ran much further. It said a thousand things in the blink of an eye: anger, sadness, regret, mirth—each was found only in the minute expressions of his eyes, which Sakura had long since learned to read. (At least, ones which she had tried to learn.)
But, above anything else, Sakura noted the lightness with which he delivered Obito's name. It wasn't a taboo word; it wasn't a name he balked at from sheer memory. She got the sudden impression that it was a name he spoke every single time he saw this stone. His utterance seemed to carry everything that shone in his eyes; it had been a mantra, a routine, one which Kakashi had lived by for years: Go to stone. Tell Obito everything you never got the chance to say.
Sakura hadn't felt like she was intruding on anything private until now. And now that she had realised it, she wanted to get away, abort this line of questioning. Leave him to his grief...or whatever other name she could give it. Because it wasn't something which had one name. The closest she could come was perhaps, simply, 'remembrance'. And she felt like it was something she wasn't meant to ever see.
"Kakashi-sensei, I..." The words died on her lips. The emotions in his eyes, the eyes of inexpugnable Kakashi of the Sharingan, were something she was not accustomed to. She found her voice to utter one small, cliché comfort: "I'm sorry for your loss." Stupid, stupid, that was a stupid thing to say...
"Thank you. But you're not the one who should be sorry." Sakura stared at him dumbly. Kakashi had taken his eyes off the stone to look at her just then, faintly surprised yet still carrying the turbulence she saw just a moment ago. At those words, however, she thought again of the medical report from his implantation of the Sharingan: 'Patient may suffer from depression. Patient refuses to eat.'
Ah. "So... the one who should be sorry..."
"Is me." At that, Sakura couldn't even bring herself to tell him how wrong he was; that Obito had appreciated his efforts, that he had died in that rockfall while believing in his best friend, that he had entrusted him with his most precious gift for a reason. Words wouldn't come. She didn't know the right words. What words could possibly comfort Kakashi Hatake while assuring him once and for all that his blame was misplaced?
She needed to get away, the mood was suffocating her, disallowing her rational thought. Primarily, she just wanted to run up and hug him, but she felt that wouldn't go over too well—not now.
"I—I should go find Naruto." Without waiting for a response, Sakura quickly made her way to the edge, where the trees met the large clearing. She looked back only once, then, seeing his still unmoving statue, gaze fixed upon the cold, grey, kunai-shaped structure with an array of bright orange flowers juxtaposing it on the ground. And with that, she set off into the village, leaving Kakashi behind.
It was a constant feature of the third training ground, the memorial stone. Everpresent whenever they trained. It cast its shadow, yet the children usually disregarded its important symbolism as just another feature of the land, like some large stone tree. But it was important.
Sakura chided herself for not having realised it sooner. Though it never had a large influx of visitors, it kept a single person returning day after day. It was an important ritual for a grieving shinobi, whose offerings of flowers at the cenotaph were always laid fresh-cut in the mornings.
