comments: previous chapters revamped slightly, fleshed out just a little. Thanks to Rini for a glance over the story for continuation (stupidity) and general glancing-ness.
It burns. Freezes. Doesn't belong.
"To the left, Hokage-sama."
"She's building natural blocks against it," she muttered. "We don't have much longer."
It's wrong. It's changing something inside her.
"Pulse accelerating," Shizune announced sharply.
"Chakra increasing—"
She wants it to go away.
"How fast, Neji?" Tsunade snapped, hands nearly trembling with effort.
"Fast."
- - -
She raised her face to the sky, closed her eyes to the soft sunlight. So peaceful, so warm, so still; it was almost as though she could ignore all the reality a step behind her.
Slender fingers curled into the soft fuzz of her jacket, pulled it a little closer. Autumn was here; she could feel it in the breeze, see it in the golden hue of the leaves.
Her haven was this balcony outside her window.
Often she leaned against the rails, watched those she knew stroll by below. Waved and laughed and chatted from her little sanctuary. Some noticed the pallor in her face, her lost weight; fewer still commented upon it.
It was rather like a haze of life, something slightly different from reality yet so infused with everything real.
One week of tests. One week of pain. One week of tries and retries and learning and attempts.
"Does it still hurt?"
"Of course it hurts," Sakura muttered, flexing her hands slightly. They were right; it was hardly a miracle cure. How many more treatments? How many more tries? Was it helping even the slightest?
She flinched at the pain, then glanced at Tsunade pointedly. "But that's not what you're here for, is it?"
"Your parents are returning from their mission." She spoke firmly, calmly. "You can't hide this, Sakura. It's different now, out of our hands."
There is no guarantee.
She looked away.
"I know."
- - -
"I'm fine, Mom." She held onto that caring hand, smiled faintly. For a moment indulged in the warmth of arms around her. "Everything's going all right. I promise. Tsunade-sama herself is seeing to me..."
"But it isn't absolute, is it?" Her mother clung to her tightly, kissed the top of her head. Closed her eyes against the pain. "How did it become like this? How did this happen to you, sweetheart?"
"Apparently it can spread fast." She pulled away just a little, led her mother to a chair. Took the hand of her father, clenched in a fist and trembling.
Smiled again, with as much strength as she could muster. "I'm getting treated, you know. It's not going badly at all. I'm getting a little better each time."
"So it's... not cancer?" He spoke for the first time since the news, still pale and tense, worry and age lining his face. "It's not cancer, then?"
She hesitated. Shook her head slightly. "No, it's not cancer." Her grip tightened for just a moment, before she forced herself to relax.
Calmly.
Be rational now. Logical. Textbook recital – that's easy, isn't it?
Like it doesn't belong to her.
Like it's not inside of her.
Like it's not killing me.
Her thoughts slipped for a moment – bruises, bleeding, pain, fever – but she shook her head sharply, shoved those memories away. "It's not cancer," she repeated, with a little less assurance to her voice. "But..."
Here she cracked. Wilted.
"Daddy, it's worse."
- - -
He was completely devoid of emotion, gazing at her so calmly – as though she had announced a new brand of tea being imported into the village.
Conversations like this were the worst. What to say, how much sympathy to show, how far to press – what was the best way?
There was no best way.
"Of course her training shall be postponed for an indeterminate amount of time." She stuck with facts, forced her voice to stay firm and calm. "Though the treatment is advancing well, it will not stand up to her chakra use."
Tsunade paused. "Naruto and Sasuke will be returning soon. I suggest you let them know before they see her."
He nodded slightly. "Of course."
- - -
The cup fell, shattered against the ground.
Kakashi stared blankly, for a moment unsure of what to do. Then – like autopilot – he knelt and began to gather the shards, ignoring the faint pain when a sharp edge sliced at his skin.
It gives her symptoms rather like leukemia. Her bruises last longer, grow larger; the bleeding won't stop. But unlike cancer...
Tsunade's words came to mind, burned him with knowledge.
Using her chakra is far too dangerous.
He thought back to the training – the extra laps, though she was tired and obviously ailing in some way. The new seals, the constant repetition of simple drills. The way she would go home drained and tired.
Of course, it is through no fault of your training. This is something no one can predict. It can attack any age, any sex. It can attack the healthy, the poor. It can attack those who have never channeled chakra in their life, though they have little to worry about.
Yet such explanations did nothing to relieve his guilt.
Her chakra channels are nearly shattered. Instead of flowing smoothly through her body through specific points, some escapes into her body. Into her veins. It attacks her blood cells, her tissues, her muscles. Her own power is killing her.
He tossed the broken shards away with a sigh, pushed to his feet.
It wouldn't help for her to see him this way.
- - -
"Sen...sei?"
Sakura squinted through the darkness rather dubiously, brows furrowed at the shadow on her balcony – waving cheerfully as though it were the middle of the afternoon.
She stepped outside, shivering a little in the cool breeze. "What are you doing here, Kakashi-sensei?"
Her words held nothing but curiosity, as she looked at him – realizing suddenly how long it had been since she had actually seen him. Wondering why he seemed so changed.
Before her heart would pound frantically and she would have to fight blushes from coloring her cheeks.
Now it was...
Like a blanket, something warm surrounding her while snow fell around her. A sense of contentment, underlying worry, confusion, pain.
It felt somehow more real than before.
Her heart thudded slowly in her chest; no faster, just harder. She wondered suddenly if it had just been a crush after all. She wondered, then, what this new feeling was.
"You have some color in your cheeks," he observed, and she knew he was smiling beneath that mask.
Sakura's lips curved in response, and she nodded slightly. "I'm better," she said simply.
They both knew it was more a lie than truth. She could see it in his eyes – his knowledge of her... illness, the chances of success. The rarity. How much was still unknown.
"I have some news I thought you would be happy to hear," he continued smoothly, as though there hadn't been that little moment of connection. His hand rested on the top of her head, ruffled her hair slightly.
Like a child.
Familiar annoyance flashed, before fading into something else – something wistful and lonely when he took his hand away.
"Naruto and Sasuke are on their way back from their mission. It will still be a while before they actually reach Konoha, but they're coming home." He leaned down slightly, arched a brow. "Well? Are you happy?"
"Really?" she asked softly – almost choking on the word – feeling her heartbeat change just a little.
A bit faster. Harder. Slamming into her chest as noise scurried through her ears.
Not alone.
She wouldn't be alone anymore.
"Are they... really coming home?" she questioned – like a child who was terrified of a lie.
"Yeah. They're coming home."
Sakura laughed, hiccupped, felt the tears build. Giggled almost hysterically for a moment as all her stoic defenses crumbled – stand alone, deal with it, fix it, get better, don't worry about the pain, everything will be all right – and she let reality in for just a moment – wanting to depend, wanting to cry, wanting to be the little girl she hated to hear she was.
And she knew, then, what this new feeling was.
He had come to her, with his normal smile, his normal eyes, his hand still warm as always. Not afraid to touch, not clinging with worry, not acting as though she would die the next second.
Relief.
She took a step, let her forehead fall against his chest. Felt him tense, though their bodies were still apart – still separated by cold night wind and all those little reasons that had always been there before.
She let herself be selfish for that moment. Let her heart beat like normal in her ears. Let the happiness and sorrow and pain and guilt and grief rush through her, let the tears build without falling.
"Thank you," she whispered.
- - -
His student had grown to the point where he couldn't even begin to understand her anymore.
Kakashi sat on the rail of her balcony – something that had become a rather nightly ritual, as she curled up in an overstuffed chair, a blanket-covered bundle of ninja.
"My mother and I fought daily up until this past year," she recalled, resting her cheek in her hand and gazing out at nothing in particular. "My head was filled with Sasuke, and all I ever talked about was Sasuke. Sometimes I would complain about Naruto. I never helped around the house, never did much cooking."
She laughed suddenly.
"Whenever I brought all of you lunches, Naruto would be the only one to eat them like they were delicious. I wanted to get better then, I think. I asked my mom for help."
Sakura looked at him in amusement, lips twitching. "She was completely stunned. But she helped me out without any questions. Taught me more of how to cook. Told me..." A giggle here, and Kakashi arched a brow.
"Told you...?"
"She told me that if I wanted to specialize in medicine so badly, I had to know how to cook – or else there was no way I would be able to handle mixing medicines. I think then it became more like practice than anything."
Well, that explained her sudden skill in cooking. He had honestly thought she was cheating and buying from stores.
"Your turn," she announced then, rolling over to stare at the sky.
"Well, let's see. When I was five years old, my father took me fishing."
"Fishing?"
"Yes. He told me of this fish no one could catch – one that had been in a pond for years and was too smart to be fooled by any regular fisherman. So I went with him."
Sakura frowned as he didn't continue. "And?" she questioned.
"Oh, we caught it."
"Liar!" she accused, laughing.
"It's true! It was five – no, fifteen feet long... and it had three legs. And two tails."
"Like... I'm going to believe that one?" she scoffed, still laughing.
"But it's true," he protested vigorously. "We even have pictures!"
Sakura coughed – hard, racking coughs – before shaking her head and half-croaking, "Now, that I want to see."
"Yes, well, it burned along with my house a long time ago," he replied, deadpan.
She snorted in a distinctly unladylike manner, before coughing again. It was almost like a signal for such light-hearted conversation to end – a nasty little reminder of things like tomorrow and the day after that.
Things that she could hardly take for granted anymore.
"How are things going for you, little one?" he asked seriously now, without even glancing toward her.
She smiled faintly, closed her eyes. "Getting better," she replied – as always.
Another lie, another night.