A/N: Kakashi and Sakura are about 10 years older in this. Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

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They met that night near a small temple at the edge of the crowds. The summer festival was already in full swing, and it took very little to incorporate themselves into it. She went for the sweets booth first, of course.

Sakura had priorities, and Kakashi let her lead him, since he was here more for her than for himself. Well that, and he'd been drinking and was more than a little tipsy.

It was a peculiar shade of red she wore; not magenta nor brick-colored, not the color of poppies or tulips, not scarlet. Close to the color of blood really, with white cranes and pink flowers bordered in a honeycomb pattern. Crimson perhaps. It suited her. He was willing to bet she'd shopped for weeks for the kimono. Knowing Sakura, she'd been planning a little every day since he'd invited her on this outing a month ago.

She was beautiful from the top of her pinned-up pink hair, to her green-painted toenails. He felt rather shabby himself in his seldom-worn charcoal-grey yukata, until he saw her glowing smile aimed at him, and then didn't really think about himself much after that.

Sakura, gliding in red on the bridge, laughing with life before all their friends and acquaintances in the summer night. The lanterns faded everything about them into a soft and serene otherworld, as if the night were painted on a fan.

He nodded at the other faces, those familiar and not, echoing their greetings and the warm wishes for them both. 'Had he asked her to marry him yet?' pried not one, but three different busybodies, whom he smoothly brushed off for them both. Sakura seemed terribly amused at this behavior, behind her blushes.

He knew it now, in this little pocket of safety, he was in love with her. He wasn't terribly concerned at the moment if everyone knew it as well.

Life was brief – a violent dream, barely remembered upon waking to the next. He could have this, with her, if only for a while. It would be enough. She was too good for him to marry. In long-term he'd only cause her grief. He could die on a mission and she might never even know what happened to him. What right did he have to claim her?

But could he bear it if someone else did?

Such desperate, disconsolate thoughts he was having, but he often tried not to hope. Love, life, friendship were transient. He knew that. Even loss was not permanent, there would be others like him others like her – just like new leaves appeared on the trees in the village every spring. The best thing was to grasp the good things while they were in front of him. Savor them like perfectly cooked rice on a winter morning. Yes, that would be best.

Sakura swung around to kiss him on the cheek, breaking his train of thought, leaving him feeling as if he'd been punched.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, looking concerned, bordering on irritated.

Trying to decide whether or not it was was wise to answer her question, Kakashi pulled her in close, not admitting nor denying the empty bottles of sake he'd left behind at another, slightly earlier gathering. She could probably smell it on his breath anyway.

He leaned them against the railing, surprising her. She knew he didn't approve of public displays of affection, but Kakashi supposed there was just enough of a shadow that they'd be politely ignored. "I believe this is your fault. You've driven me mad, little girl."

She laughed. "Or maybe you've been breathing in the fumes from someone's opium pipe. Why is it when you're happy, your eye always gets so morbid?" she asked, touching his masked face. She'd probably touched him more than any other person he knew at this point. Hands of a healer - these were a pair he wouldn't deny, couldn't avoid. Needed.

Why indeed? "To keep things balanced. Yin and yang, dark with light. And just looking at you is more than enough to make a man drunk." He watched her blush until her face nearly matched her kimono. Oh yes, he had a way with words tonight.

"Silly. At least I'm old enough to drink with you now. Too bad you didn't wait," she grinned sly and inviting.

"You don't drink." He rolled his eye at her. Although the idea of Sakura getting falling-down drunk had its own humorous appeal. Kakashi wondered if she was as violent when drunk as she was when sober. Maybe not so funny.

"No, but I do have options now, don't I? Lots of options." She tugged at the fabric covering his neck, a not so subtle hint she wanted to press her lips against his skin, not stretchy black cotton.

"Maybe not as many as you think," Kakashi said, narrowing his eye. Perhaps he would marry her. Sakura had never hinted that it was something she desired, at least not to him. Maybe she was waiting for him to say something.

"Eh?" she said, puzzled, leaning back.

He pulled her back into the darkness and nuzzled her forehead. "I'm not going to tell you, unless I think you need to know. You should understand that by now." He wasn't about to tell her that if it were up to him, he'd have banned all the other men from this gathering so he could keep them from stealing glances and lusting after what was clearly his. He'd had to practice amazing amounts of self-control these days, though he thought he hid his feelings well. She still saw through it all.

Sakura looked at him doubtful – then mischievous, slipping a folded fan from her red silk sleeve, only to tap it against her lips. "Hmm. Tell me one thing."

"What?"

"Why did you invite me here tonight?" she asked.

He wasn't going to let her bait him – although it could lead to interesting things if allowed. He simply grinned beneath the mask and said, "So that when we go next year, you'll have something to compare it to."