Chapter 80
Title: 'Regrets and Receptionists'
Note: Before you read this chapter I would love to thank everyone who, though might have been miffed by the sharp turn of the story, reviewed! I would also like to offer my apologies to pEACHy and Castiel and anyone else who suffered some distress over the previous chapter.
Hopefully you can enjoy this one a bit more
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
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He stared at the ceiling, ignoring the harsh glare of the fluorescent bulbs on either side of his peripheral vision. Their faint buzzings were the only sources of sound in the sterile room.
The nurses had left minutes before; they hadn't really looked at him. They had heard that the Hokage's apprentice had been the one to treat his injury, now only an empty hole in his scarred chest, and somehow knew they didn't have to do much else.
He was warned not to move too much and told that the washroom would be available in the morning.
Now he was alone.
One of the fluorescent bulbs blinked at him with a metallic crackle.
…
He would have sighed if he didn't feel the gap in his chest protest against any deep breathing.
…
It seemed strange… for things to be so quiet around him when nothing about his mind was.
His thoughts were deafening, but more than his thoughts, something else was drowning any advances his mind could make towards rest. Something he wished more than anything he could know how to ignore.
He could still feel her.
The phantom sensations of her.
His hands remembered the fabric of her shirt, how hot they felt sliding up and down her back, his fingers sometimes catching a glimpse of her skin.
He winced at the memory.
…
He had always believed in skinship… the importance of touch in any kind of nurturing relationship.
But… her skin… it had seemed so foreign to him this time.
… He didn't know why.
His eyes searched through the ceiling for answers.
…
He had been with women before, not very often, but enough times to know that whatever had happened between him and that girl tonight felt nothing like it had with the others. He would have been thankful for that if it hadn't confused him so deeply. It had felt…
Different.
Sobering.
Painful.
… comforting?….
He couldn't figure out how it had felt… how he felt about it… all he knew was that he couldn't seem to erase any of it from his mind. No matter how hard he tried.
Even now, against his will, he remembered just how her skin felt…. Pressing his fingers into her thighs, gripping her tighter than he wanted as his touch followed the command his mind didn't want to give, he felt just how easily her tissue indented to his touch.
He remembered that warm, restless, heaviness in his chest melt from the pit it had formed in his stomach out of the anxiety in preparing himself to do this and flood upward to his neck, spilling into his arms and hands and fingers, filling him up and willing him to feel more of her. His hands obeyed orders he didn't want to give, rolling the fabric of her pajamas a few inches higher, revealing a fraction more of her to his fingertips.
The only thoughts he could let in his mind at that moment were orders. Not to back down, not to follow his instincts of pulling himself away from her, not to stop, not to forget why he was doing this.
He needed this to affect her.
He needed to worry her.
He needed this to trouble her.
She had to push him away, hate him, anything.
Even if a part of his mind was screaming for cessation, while whispering different orders in another, he needed to focus on why he was doing this.
To scare her into realizing what she really wanted.
To show her just how wrong she was about what she thought that man would have wanted for her.
He needed to push her, even if it was completely against his heart's will, into understanding that she shouldn't force herself out of happiness because of others.
Not to back down from what she really wanted.
He ordered his hands to slide onto her hips, mimicking previous experience with more confidence than he felt, with more anticipation than he would have liked.
Realizing the depth of his actions in another moment of sobriety, which bombarded his stomach with acid, the warmth had choked in his throat, making any oxygen he could inhale boil in his lungs.
He hated that feeling.
He hated what it meant.
He hated how he noticed the warmth of her body multiplying in the space between his. He hated how he seemed to forget to breathe out with every inhale that led to his sore chest brushing against hers.
He hated how her hands, once so small and innocent to him, spread over his skin and coiled into his hair with an adult hunger he could feel she was only reenacting for him…
His hand covered his face as his brows pulled upward into a pained expression at that memory, the same expression he had had the moment he first realized it.
She had been acting as if she were a performer…. As if she thought she was doing him a favor by answering his advances like that….
As if she was taking him seriously… answering him seriously… with a lie.
It wasn't what she wanted. It couldn't have been. But she touched him as if he were the man he knew she wished he was.
…
He couldn't believe how twisted that moment had become.
…
A single effort of shocking her into realizing what she really wanted had turned into a sorrowing battle between obligation and compliance. Something he thought could be so simple had turned into a molten mosaic of emotion and sensation.
He hated it.
He hated how the taste of her lips, far more electric than he had imagined it would be, sent jolts of directionless energy through him.
He hated how restless it made him, how it twisted his thoughts and his insides with so much disgust as well as an instinctual anticipation that sickened him further.
He grimaced at himself, lifting his other hand to his face tiredly.
…
He could still remember her as a child…
And that's the way he had seen her for years... until...
...
The more he thought about it, the more he hated what he had done.
But he couldn't hate anything more than the moment he understood why her lips were kissing back, why she was pretending… for him.
She hadn't only misunderstood him… but…
She had given up.
He had felt that.
There was a part of her that was taking him seriously… she really took his lead as if he was sincere.
The sickness he felt from earlier that night revisited him, now undistracted by anticipation or warmth; he could only feel the regret his actions had left him with.
The memories of seeing her at the Academy, small and innocent, feeling only the pride and love of a teacher who appreciated a hard-working student seemed tainted by these new memories of her skin, her scent, her hands, her thighs, her chest, her breathing, her lip-
"Stop it." He whispered hoarsely at himself, tapping the bridge of his scarred nose with his knuckle.
He tried to clear his mind.
…
… 'Thank you.'
… He focused on her reaction.
He hadn't been able to get the reaction he wanted from her… in fact, he had gotten the opposite –another grimace pained his features-, but she understood him in the end.
… Even though he was the one who had to pull away first, even though he had gotten burnt by his own actions more than she had… she understood him in the end.
She knew she couldn't lie to herself anymore… or to that man.
…
He sighed this time, tiredly, dealing with the pain as he did.
…
I guess as long as it helped her… as long as I've done more good than harm…
I can live with that.
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I finally got to the hospital gate after what seemed an eternity within ten minutes.
I didn't know what it was, I was usually a faster runner, I even took a shortcut this time, but I somehow got to the front door several minutes later than I'd hoped.
Maybe I was tired.
I didn't think about it any further when I pushed my way through the door of the waiting room with just enough control to seem less anxious than I actually was.
"How is he?" I asked as I strode across the room to the main desk. I knew the receptionist rather well this time, not because of the frequency in which I've had to see my friends carted into this building recently, but because of my training here. I started training here just as she started her internship so we crossed paths a lot.
She looked up at me from some kind of magazine with a surprised look that drifted into a calm one again as soon as she recognized who I was and who I was talking about.
"Umino-san's fine." She replied with something like a bored tone, glancing back down at her magazine.
I'd forgotten she didn't like me very much… she always called me a 'teacher's pet'. I didn't want to think about that nickname right now.
Especially after what had just happened a few minutes ago….
"Are you sure?" I asked with more worry in my tone than was professional. I couldn't help but wonder if all the movement had reopened his injury. I'd been so careful not to move him too much earlier for that reason, and yet with the way the ANBU members handled him-
"I guess you would be that worried about your boyfriend." She flipped a page.
. . .
"… Which room is he in?"
She snorted at my stony question, still reading an article about nail-polish as she answered, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the patient in question isn't authorized to accept visitors right now. You can come back tomorrow morning at eight-thirty when visiting hours are open to request a visitation form-"
"I'm his attending physician, you can't hold me back from seeing him."
She looked up at me at that, "I'm sorry, ma'am, due to the nature of the crisis the hospital isn't allowing any unauthorized visitors at this time for the safety of the patients-"
She stopped in the middle of her trained response when she noticed I grabbed her magazine and ripped it clean in half, and then again. I placed the pieces on the table in front of her again, the glossy shreds bending upwards in mangled angles.
I didn't even wait for her reaction before I was practically stomping around the desk and through the doors to the emergency rooms, where they probably put him.
She didn't say or do anything to stop me, either because she knew I was actually allowed to visit him now or because she was afraid I'd punch her if he tried to stop me (which I would've), but I heard her mumble something I couldn't make out… but I was glad I didn't, anyways.
My pace slowed as the doors closed behind me, I came to a stop without meaning to.
I was as confused by my hesitation as I was about the prolonged time it took me to get to the hospital… but I didn't have to know the reason why I stopped to know that the frustration I'd adopted in these past few minutes were quickly turning into something like… anxiety.
I started walking again, slowly, checking windows for any sign of occupancy.
I found myself a little hopeful that he wouldn't be in the wing, that he left or something… something about that made me feel like a little kid again. Trying to shirk confrontation….
I didn't know if it was what had just happened between us, or the conversation I was afraid of having with him, or the possible awkwardness that could come from never talking about it again, but there was definitely a part of me that didn't want to see Iruka-sensei right now…while another part of me sighed in relief when I spotted him through one of the lit door-windows.
My heart jumped a little nervously when my hand closed around the door handle.
I had no idea what was going to happen now.
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"Which village are you from?" Ibiki's stony voice echoed in the quiet air.
The silence came back for a long moment.
Only a handful of people were in the partitioned rooms, separated by a windowed wall, but only one person was expected to talk at that moment. The spy that was bound to a throne-like chair, their forehead tied against the back so that their eyes were forced to stare upward at the only source of light in the room.
That man's life mission now was to keep from breaking that silence.
Five seconds passed sharply before the quiet was interrupted by a cracking thud.
Kakashi could recognize a few flinches in the Chuunin who were standing beside him at attention.
They needed some more experience before they could be of much use to the Torture and Interrogation Force.
"Who sent you here?" The scarred man on the other side of the windowed wall, sitting in front of the captive, asked with a tone that didn't seem hopeful for an answer.
The man in the chair remained silent, still staring at the light. He coughed weakly as the blood no doubt collected in his mouth.
Ten seconds passed this time before another thud sounded.
"What did the others take?" Ibiki asked just as the man spat out some of the blood in Ibiki's direction, showing spirit.
The Torture and Interrogation Leader stood up from his seat, sighing.
He stared down at the bound man for a moment before shaking his head and taking the few heavy steps he needed to turn around.
It was only a moment until those steps brought the scarred man through the door of the partition and to Kakashi's side.
"This one isn't going to talk." He said, his tone tired. "It's rare, but I've seen that look before…. Pain means nothing to him."
Kakashi glanced at the scarred man before he looked back at the captive he had brought to Ibiki himself.
"We should move him to a holding cell." Kakashi suggested with a professional tone. "See if we can get the Genjutsu specialists to work something out of him."
He could hear Ibiki start to respond, to agree with his suggestion, but he was distracted when he saw the captive's jaw work around strangely.
He rushed forward a few steps to the window, leaving Ibiki's words behind, looking closer at the bound man through the glass.
"Did they check his teeth?" He asked seriously over his shoulder without wasting a second between his words.
The three Chuunin in the room looked at each other with wide eyes, answering his question with an apparent negative.
Ibiki was already running into the interrogation room before the other three could scramble their way to the door.
By the time they could pry open the captive's mouth his shoulders had already slumped downward. It wasn't as rare as the look he had had, the poison capsule embedded into a molar, but it meant that this spy had had some deadly powers behind him.
To be trained that a ninja of his skill could be so expendable… the operation he had belonged to must've been serious.
…
Kakashi leaned against the glass, tired. Not looking forward to whatever hell was heading for the village.
After a few more seconds Ibiki walked through the doorway again, his apprentices fumbling with the body, "He's only good to the investigative team now." The interrogator referenced the medicnins who specialized in the secrets of the bodies of dead shinobi.
"I doubt they'll find much." Kakashi added, addressing the fact that whoever was behind this would have known better than to leave this man with too many secrets.
"They won't find anything." Ibiki corrected.
Kakashi sighed, already exhausted by several different sources of personal and professional stress, he could tell he wasn't needed here as a witness any longer.
"If they do find anything, let me know." Kakashi said casually as he turned and made his way to the door.
"Where are you off to?" Ibiki asked, apparently turning over a new social leaf Kakashi didn't really appreciate at the moment.
"Another interrogation..." He almost-joked over his shoulder.
"Who's?" Ibiki seemed mildly curious, though apparently knowledgeable that Kakashi wasn't being serious.
Kakashi paused momentarily, "I'm not sure anymore…" He sighed as he opened the door.
Ibiki only gave him a strange look and shrugged as the silver-haired man exited the room.
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As I felt the door slide open, the handle shivering with the little grooves the door's wheels had to work over to open fully, I felt a strange numbness take over.
I could feel his eyes find me as I turned to close the door behind me, but I focused on the door for as long as I could before turning around.
Everything was so quiet.
My heels scuffed the tiled floor quietly as I walked further into the room.
I decided in that strange moment of silence that I would do my job first and pay attention to my personal life second. I tried to pretend Iruka-sensei was a stranger as I reached for the little clipboard that was hanging from the foot of the bed.
I still hadn't looked at him since opening the door, so for all I knew his wound had reopened and I would have to treat it again, so, making it harder for myself, I decided to check his chart to see what they wrote down.
I paid attention to every detail of the half-blank form.
Patient: Umino Iruka
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Nature of Ailment: Chest wound. Epidermis and dermis properly regenerated. Subcutaneous tissue will need further treatment before dismissal.
I scolded the paper mentally.
They filled this out as quickly as they could. They couldn't bother themselves a few more minutes to complete it?
I looked over the paper a few seconds longer, unnecessarily, before hanging the clipboard back onto the foot of the bed. I turned towards him.
My eyes finally met his for the first time since I'd walked into the room.
The way he was looking at me.
As if he knew he was only observing me, like I was in a different room than him… but he was still so… alert. As if he was ready to say anything at any moment as soon as I did. As if he had something to say, something to ask, but wouldn't speak up until he knew I was ready to talk.
I should have said something.
I wanted to, but I wanted to carry on the quiet a bit longer as well.
I took a few steps toward him, his eyes avoiding me a little as I got closer.
I stopped by his side and ignored the way he tensed in protest when I rolled the sheet back from over his chest. He seemed to catch on quickly, though, that I was only doing my job right now.
The fact that there was even a thought between both of us that it could have been for another reason was something my brain was having a hard time accepting right now.
I held out my hands for only a moment before I broke the silence, "Tell me if this hurts." I ordered more professionally than I usually did at patients.
In order to tell just how deep the wound was, now that it was invisible to me, I brought my fingers together to a point, and placing one set of fingers on the other, I applied even pressure on the edge of the pectoralis major.
He didn't say anything.
I inched the pressure along the side.
He didn't say anything.
I moved down to the pectoralis minor.
His breathing hitched and his muscles tensed, he made a move to sit up out of his response to the pain.
I couldn't help myself from glancing at his face for no other reason than to know what kind of pain he was in because I was worried.
After his wince left, his expression remained the same as before.
Even though I could tell by the spot he'd reacted to that the wound was not only deeper than I'd thought, but angled towards the intercostals muscles, which must've meant that he'd be in pain every time he'd even breath too deeply, he still only seemed to be worried about me.
I wanted to hit him for not caring about himself more, but instead it convinced me to leave professionalism behind and say something.
…
But what, I didn't know.
I opened my mouth for only a moment of hesitation, making no sound or movement of a word, before he interrupted me.
"I can't have feelings for you."
…
"Huh?" If I had planned on saying anything else I would have forgotten it instantaneously anyways.
I stared at him with a look I could only guess portrayed my confusion well enough because it was only moment before he took a deep breath, which I immediately worried hurt for him, and spoke again.
"I… don't have feelings for you…."
I took a moment to remember how to blink before I tackled how to talk when my brain thought of a response before my mind could, "W-Why?"
I had meant to ask why he was telling me this but it sounded more like I was asking why he… he couldn't 'have feelings' for me.
I stuttered again, trying to work up words to explain my fumble, but he took the opportunity to respond first.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to think of you…." He trailed off before finishing his sentence with a tone that could only be described as gentle awkwardness, "… romantically."
My brain needed to take a moment to reset after that, not only because it was a strange topic –though I had prepared myself for this-, but because he was so… forward about it. I half-expected to be talking to the Iruka-sensei I remembered would blush and stutter at the mention of romance like this.
But…
His whole demeanor seemed to calm after saying that. As if he had gotten something off of his chest by telling me that.
My mind, which had been suffering a serious lag these past few seconds in thinking about the context of this situation instead on the text, finally jumpstarted into place. He must've been telling me this because… he thought I might think what he did was for himself. He wanted to let me know that he hadn't been confessing or anything, earlier. My brain was making slow progress with this before it screeched to a halt as it saw a different perspective.
Maybe he was telling me this because… because of the way I responded to him.
I had kissed him back.
I let him… I had actually let him…
Maybe he thinks I might have feelings for him, and this is his way of letting me down…
My heart panicked and tripped on its face at that thought.
I felt so stupid in that moment, not because of the fact that our relationship right now was so uncertain, but because, in the face of this uncertainty, I've seemed to have reverted back into student-me.
I couldn't tell if this was just so distressing to me that I could be so childish, or maybe it was because this was Iruka-sensei… maybe the fact it was him, the fact that the last time I felt so pressured around him would have been during my school-years and so this was the only way I knew to act.
But despite the reasons behind my behavior, I had to think of a way to explain myself.
I couldn't answer fast enough, but as soon as I spoke I again realized that I had no way of saying eloquently what I had no idea I was feeling.
"I don't… I didn't want to… I mean, I did… but I wasn't sure… I thought you-" I couldn't translate what I was thinking, what I felt. Even though I wanted to say that I had not only gone along with what happened between us because I thought he might have actually had feelings for me, but because I had, for a moment, wondered what a relationship with a man like him would be like, but I couldn't say any of that…. My mind found its own, shorter way, of saying something like it, though.
"…I didn't want to hurt you."
His expression changed completely. From the peace he had had before, as if this was a conversation only between himself, to a moment of surprise.
I scrambled for more to say, so that he knew I didn't think that my actions before were some kind of act of charity or something as heinously conceited as that.
But his expression only remained surprised, unjudging, and alert as I continued, as if he could have never imagined me saying what I was about to say.
I hadn't imagined what I was about to say either until the moment I said it.
"….But, more than that… I just… I didn't… What happened between us wasn't bad." I paused, trying to find the right words, "I… I don't regret it."
I couldn't tell if I had said something good or bad.
I looked over to his face again, after staring so intently at my hands as they rested on the edge of the bed, clutching the sheets nervously. A sight that reminded myself too much of student-me.
I was a little surprised to see he wasn't looking at me.
He was only looking up at the ceiling.
He was quiet for only a moment, but I could almost see the hurricane of thoughts brewing in his head. I almost opened my mouth to talk again, to try and clear things up a bit more, but he spoke first.
"I understand." He said quietly. I hadn't heard that tone from him in a long time, I couldn't quite remember how long… but it must have been years. It was quiet tone, understanding, but… sad. It was the way he talked when he… when he was disappointed in something… when he was disappointed in something or someone, but was trying to hide it. I almost didn't catch his words I was too distracted by his voice and my attempts at deciphering it.
"We've gotten… closer… recently." He paused, still looking up at the ceiling. His words led me to the recent memories between us, his hugs, his hands, the rumbling of his voice… "And so, after my advances …" he closed his eyes, something like shame taking over his expression, I didn't like that… "… you must have felt obligated… to settle."
I thought back to that moment between us that seemed so far away now.
Settle?
Was that it?
"No." I replied blatantly.
He opened his eyes and looked over at me, that look of surprise taking over his expression again. Even though I still stumbled with what I could say and what I couldn't, I felt a sense of duty to tell him the truth, even if I wasn't sure what it was yet.
"It wasn't like that." I started, sure of myself. "I wasn't settling."
I was quiet for a moment.
"Sakura, you don't have to-" I cut him off as soon as I could tell what he was going to say. He was probably going to tell me I didn't have to 'lie' or try to make him feel better.
I wasn't doing this to make him feel better, though… I knew it wasn't going to anyways… he had already said he couldn't have feelings for me, so what good would it do him to know what I was saying.
I just… I wanted him to know… he means more than that.
"After everything…" I spoke up just quick enough to stop him, "After I decided that Ka… that he's better off without me…. You were there…." I took a moment to think that through again before correcting it. "You've always been there…."
He didn't say anything.
He didn't look at me.
I couldn't look away from him, though.
"I didn't deserve someone like you…." I admitted to mostly myself. "Everything that's happened to me has been my own fault…." I took a breath, trying to keep the memories of the pain back and only focus on the moments this man's presence lessened that pain. His words, his voice, his smile… and all the memories connected to them. The words seemed to pour out of me then. "You've always looked out for me…. Not just when I was your student, but even when I… broke all the rules and made you worry," I remembered the night of the Masque. "Even when you tried to warn me and I didn't listen, even when I took you for granted and ignored you , even when I suddenly needed you more than ever, even when you've had to go through so much trouble for me with these all these rumors and secrets…." His expression winced a little. "You were always there to help me without ever thinking of yourself."
I was quiet for a second. "Even when I was weak in front of you, you were still there." I remembered, with something like shame, the times I cried in front of this man.
I studied him with only a glance. I couldn't read anything about him, but I guessed that didn't matter.
"I don't know what I supposed to feel about what happened between us," I said more directly than anything else, I could sense a change in his demeanor with that, "All I know is that tonight, like you've always been, you were kind and warm…." I took a moment to find the exact word that I needed, "… safe."
…
"I guess that's where it goes wrong."
The moment of quiet between my words and his didn't last nearly as long as I had expected. I almost didn't catch the meaning of his words in the moment it took for him to continue.
"You don't need 'safe', Sakura." His voice said gently, "You've never needed 'safe'."
"What?"
He looked over to me again, his expression… it was back to normal.
He was disappointed, or nervous, or awkward, or even confused.
This was the Iruka-sensei I remembered.
"You were too lucky for that."
I didn't say anything; I couldn't look away from his eyes.
Only minutes ago I thought it would have been impossible to look at him so directly again, but I couldn't imagine doing anything else right now.
I listened to his explanation.
"Not very many people find the kind of happiness you did on their first try." It took me a moment to realize he was talking about… my relationship with Kakashi. "You've been trying to take the strong way out." He narrated my decisions with something like a smile, as if I was a little student again he was proud at least tried to act tough after failing a test, "Tonight was my last attempt to convince you otherwise."
He looked away for a moment. I didn't.
"I couldn't let you throw that away…. You needed to see how the rest of your life would have felt if you let go of that happiness now." He almost sounded wistful. I would have been surprised at how direct he was talking about this if he didn't seem to be the same old Iruka-sensei as he was saying all this. "It wasn't the same, was it?" He asked, not looking for an answer I could say out loud.
He paused for a moment. His eyes that had left mine a few seconds earlier found my fidgeting hands just before his fingertips did.
His touch felt different now. After knowing it so differently earlier….
His next words shook me from that thought.
"I'm not under any illusions, Sakura, about who you belong with." I felt my heart trip again, "And hopefully, now you aren't either." He smiled faintly.
"Iruka…" I couldn't say anything else, my fingers reached for his by a few inches, intertwining with them only a little.
I had no idea why I suddenly felt my heart swell over or why I couldn't stop myself from grinning like an idiot. Maybe it was the relief at knowing that things between us hadn't changed, maybe it was seeing Iruka-sensei back to being himself, or maybe the fact that even after all the trouble I've caused him he still can't seem to think about giving up on me.
If he wasn't injured I would have either hit him for being so insufferably giving or hugged him. Instead I was distracted from my gratitude when his tone suddenly changed.
"It's disrespectful to address your old teacher so casually." He mini-lectured as a joke, commenting ironically on my forgetting of the honorific that should have followed his name.
I laughed at him, at both of us, for a moment before correcting myself, "Right… Iruka-sensei."
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"I'm sorry, sir, but we aren't allowing any unauthorized visitors at the moment. If you return tomorrow at eight thirty, I'd be happy to set you up a visitation appointment if you'd lik-" The girl was making a point to lean over the counter closer than was necessary as she talked to him.
He didn't have time for this.
"I'm under the Hokage's orders to consult with Umino about what he witnessed of the trespasser we captured." He lied professionally.
The girl seemed to snap out of her flirtatious mood only momentarily, not appreciating how he interrupted her, but she quickly fell back into it.
"Well, ok… I guess I can let you through." She smiled as if she was doing him a big favor, "It'll be our little secret."
He didn't react in any other way than stepping around the side of the desk and towards the doors he now had 'permission' to go through.
But the moment he reached out to find the door handle, the girl's voice came ringing back at him. He would have ignored her and pretended not to have heard her… if she hadn't said:
"You might have to wait a few minutes, though. His underage, teacher's-pet, girlfriend is in there with him right now."
He stopped in his tracks.
He took a moment to digest the insulting tone, implications, and regrettable nickname the receptionist had just spouted before turning around, adopting his most charming smile, and starting a preliminary interrogation he hadn't known he'd be giving.
"Do you mean Haruno Sakura?"
The girl behind the desk, after assessing his fake expression and body language, seemed to instantly jump at his command and started, with a tone of flirty gossip, to inform him of everything he's wanted to know.
"Of course, who else? Haven't you heard the rumors going around about her and Umino-san? I mean, I always knew that she was a teacher's pet by the way she always overachieves and everything, but I never thought she was actually a 'teacher's pet' and would actually do something as slutty as date her old Academy teacher." Kakashi ignored a sudden urge for violence, and instead listened as the girl went on, "It makes you wonder how long it's been going on, I mean, what's the point in dating a teacher who doesn't decide your grades anymore? … So maybe they had some kind of arrangement going on even back then? " The girl laughed at the inappropriateness of the subject just as his hands formed instinctual fists, he put them in his pockets to keep himself from making an 'arrangement' with this girl's face, "But even if that's not it, I mean, maybe she has a thing for kind-of-older men or something… But seriously, he might be younger than the other elementary teachers and he always seemed cute and nice and everything, though if I had to choose from the Academy teachers I probably would've chosen Kuroke-sensei over Umino because he has that smooth-talk thing going, but whatever… The point is, he's must've known her since she was, like, little-little, you know? Like 8 or 9 or something. It's too freaking weird. He must have some kind of loli complex or something. But I didn't say it first, you know, everyone's who's heard about them has been thinking it. Which is probably why the Academy is thinking of firing him since all the parents are freaking out, and I heard even some of the kids are picking on him and stuff." She laughed again, Kakashi was starting to get a headache. "I thought that maybe it was all fake or something, that maybe it was just some kind of misunderstanding, cause, you know, I'm open-minded about everything… but not even twenty minutes ago that girl just waltzes in here and demands to see him, she even threatened me, and then busted through those doors without any authorization."
"You haven't seen her since?" He asked, a little more serious now.
"No. She's been back there the whole time. I know they could be talking or something like that… but with what everyone's saying, I feel like I should go say something, you know… just in case something else is going on because she's only like 15, or something, and he's, like, 26, so that's gross. And, yeah, he's supposed to be resting and this is a hospital, you know, they shouldn't be doing anything that could mess up a sterile environm-"
"That's enough, thank you." The doors closed behind him only a moment after finishing his sentence.
The girl was left behind the desk, a little perturbed by how easily he had left. She pouted as she went back to taping her magazine back together, wondering if maybe she could, like, ask Hatake-san out for a drink, or something, when he's done talking to Umino.
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Okay… that's that for now.
Stay tuned for next chapter, though, you won't want to miss it!