disclaimer: do not own Naruto.
comments: revamped 10/13/2006.
3 months later...
The silence was unbearable, causing the painfully thin girl to wilt beneath its pressure. Kakashi pretended not to notice, as he always did; it would break the brittle truce between them, the unspoken agreement never to speak about that day.
"Fifty," she muttered, wishing her arms didn't tremble so badly from the exertion. Fifty push-ups were her limit, soaking her face in sweat, bringing pain to her lungs as she breathed.
She had lost a lot since the boys left. Lost a lot of everything.
Sakura made no comment when Kakashi tossed a bottle of water in her direction, simply drank gratefully. She had no energy to wonder if he was starting to care, as she had the first few days. Always questioning every movement, every glance of his eyes - like a child, she admitted to herself.
"That's enough for today," he announced calmly, pushing away from his tree. "Go home and rest. You haven't been up to par lately."
Lately.
She flinched, tightening her fingers around the bottle. Then lowered it, pasting a smile on her face, never knowing how brilliantly her pain shone in her eyes. Never knowing how much it killed the man who had considered her a sister for so long.
"A persistent cold," she lied, knowing he would never call her on it. "I don't eat much anymore."
And, really, she had been having days where she was not "up to par" even before... then. It wasn't as though this was unusual.
But bad days lasting weeks is, perhaps, unusual.
He nodded shortly and turned to leave, both uncomfortable under the weight of lies and bitter truth. But her voice stopped him again, tentative and questioning and trembling with desperate need.
"When will they be back?"
"I don't know." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. "It is a long mission."
"Why didn't you go with them?" she pushed insistently, for the first time since she had learned of the boys' departure.
"It was not my mission," he replied simply. "They are seventeen, not twelve, and Jounin as well."
Sakura glanced away, hating that point. Jounin. Chuunin. No longer the close-knit and comfortable 'Team 7' of her childhood.
That had disappeared long ago, despite their regularly morning meetings and training schedules. Schedules that Kakashi insisted the both of them keep to avoid speculation by those who knew them.
Not that those had been the precise words he said, but the meaning had been clear.
"All grown up, aren't they." The words were spoken bitterly as she pushed to her feet, weaving slightly as she stood. So tired... "Amazing what a promotion can do."
Kakashi turned, eyes dark with concern. Concern for the words she spoke, the feeling behind them. "Sakura..."
She laughed, trying to make it sound careless. Trying to erase the emotion she had shown just moments before. They both knew it was a lie, but she had to start somewhere. Had to make him think she wasn't in such pain. "Don't worry, sensei." Even the title came out easily enough, without the sardonic undertone she had feared it would take. "I'm happy where I am."
Lies.
"Look, I need to help Mom with dinner tonight." She smiled her normal smile, brilliant and warm and normal.
It was wrong.
Shadows burned in her eyes, beneath her cheekbones - jutting and prominent and sharp in her now-pale face. Not even hours under the sun could erase that pallor.
But Kakashi only nodded, knowing that she would not want him to ask. Knowing she would never want him to realize how affected she was. Wondering, as he was now prone to doing, if she would actually eat the dinner she made tonight.
Damn it.
- - -
"You don't need onions for this, Daddy!" She reached over to take the knife out of the large man's hands, exasperation scrawled along her face. He laughed sheepishly, looking down at the already peeled vegetable.
It was worth the effort - and the stinging eyes - to see a smile from his precious girl again.
"No onions, no beef... what are we making? Foreign stuff?" he teased, relieved to see Sakura roll her eyes. Beautiful ivy eyes that held too many shadows these days.
"Daddy, how does mom put up with you?" His daughter bagged the onion and tossed him a few green peppers. "Here, cut those into little circles. And when you're done, see that big red thing? That's a red bell pepper. Cut half of that into squares."
"Ah, definitely foreign food," he proclaimed, examining his new task with mock solemnity. "Never knew what these were."
"Daddy!"
"Right, right, cutting." He smiled as she scowled, and pointed to the now-boiling pot on the stove. "Tofu needs to go in now?"
"My, you do pay attention after all," she mocked, carefully sliding the slippery beige squares into the soup. "And once you chop those up, Father Handy, you can put them in too."
"Remind me, I might forget," he retorted, only to look guilty as his wife's voice came down the stairs.
"Are you two cooking or making a mess?"
"Cooking, Mom." Sakura smirked at her father. "I just needed to teach Daddy some common sense in the kitchen."
He glowered at his daughter beneath lowered brows. "Sakura," came the heavy warning.
She held the ladle out innocently. "Shall I cut? You can stir."
"Sakura," he began again, though quick to take the ladle, "You are pushing it."
She only grinned, bending to the peppers with great concentration. "I stir, I don't push. Pushing soup doesn't help it much." Turning wide, angelic eyes to her father, she added, "Besides, if you push it off the flame, it doesn't cook anymore."
He snorted, finally giving up the fight and outwardly sulking. But there was a hidden smile behind his outrageously childish pout.
"Honestly, you two..." Sakura's mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You do realize that there is a trashcan in the corner, don't you, dear?"
"I wasn't the one opening anything!" he protested immediately, as his daughter bit back a giggle.
"There wasn't much to open... but I see pieces of vegetables that are certainly not going into the stew littering my counter." Her brow arched coolly. "Are you really cooking and not making a mess?"
"No," he replied slyly, though he reached for the bits ("Not that one!" Sakura snapped) immediately. "We're cooking and making a mess, love of my life."
"Oh!"
Sakura bent her head back in surprise, lifting a shaky hand to her nose. Not again... "Daddy, could you get me a towel?"
He glanced at her in surprise. "What's wrong?"
"Just a nosebleed." She pressed the towel against her nose carefully. "Can you finish cutting, Daddy? I can't see like this."
"Of course." He frowned at her retreating back in worry. Now why was her nose bleeding? She had never been prone to them before. That, along with her pale face and occasional coughs, had fatherly concern rising rapidly. Was she ill? Certainly she had hardly been eating the past few months, but...
- - -
"I'm fine now, Mom." Sakura ducked from the maternal hand, sliding underneath the blanket quickly. "Don't worry so much."
"Are you sure you feel all right?" she asked, worry easily apparent as she looked over her daughter's face. "You were sweating all through dinner and hardly ate anything again..."
"I'm fine," Sakura interrupted quickly. "Look, I just need some sleep. I... I worked too hard during training, that's all."
She wondered if her lies were evident in her face, but her mother bit her lip and sighed. "You're sure?" she questioned again, pushing to her feet.
"I'm fine, Mom." She forced a smile. "You and Daddy should be going, though - you're late."
"Yes..." her mother agreed uncertainly, combing her fingers hesitantly through her daughter's hair. "We'll be back tomorrow evening, then."
"I'll have dinner waiting." Sakura leaned up to brush a kiss against the older woman's cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll go to the Medical Ward tomorrow."
That eased worry lines from her mother's face. "All right, Sakura. You rest tomorrow. No gallivanting off to train with Kakashi when you're sick, though." Her brows came together again briefly, then smoothed. "I'm putting my foot down on that one."
Sakura rolled her eyes, managing to hide the stab of pain at hearing his name. "Someone's late," she sing-songed pointedly, laughing until her door closed.
Then she stopped, gasped a little, and pushed off her blankets with a soft groan. Any longer and I would have suffocated...
She was so hot. And why did she hurt so?
I pushed myself too hard during practice.
Yeah, right. She had never felt like this because of training. The excuse was good enough to fob off her parents, but...
Sakura huddled against the wall, waiting patiently as she heard her parents talking quietly downstairs. The door slammed.
She coughed violently, grimacing at the pain. I'm sorry I lied, Mom. But better to lie. They would worry too much over their only child.
Sakura rolled up the leg of her pajamas, studying the bruise there in the light from her window. It was too big, wasn't it?
The Medical Ward.
She whimpered softly, carefully crawling out of bed. She felt so stiff, so sore.
She hurt.
Stretches were better than sitting around in pain. Work it all out.
Her medical books gleamed from the shelves – she glanced toward them. Took a step toward her desk.
Stopped.
It's nothing, she comforted herself, ignoring all the questions that wanted to run through her head. Tsunade-sama will take a look and everything will be fine.
She had never been truly sick a day in her life.
I can't wait for tomorrow.