Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
somewhere along in the bitterness
I would have stayed up with you all night
had I known how to save a life

-How to Save a Life by The Fray

Shadows shifted over the walls. In the muted light filtering through the clouds and windows, the room was grey and the shadows were hues of blues and blacks and inside his home, he could hear a faint pitter-patter signaling the beginning of rain.

"Sakura, you're pregnant."

And he openly flinched at the words. His fingers tensed and his teeth gnashed together. Briefly, he imagined the thought of the veins in his hands bulging under his skin as the shadows shifted over the walls and he was lost in a sea of words.

Flashback

"Sakura…you're pregnant."

A chair clattered on the floor. "You're kidding, right?"

And Tsunade let her gaze wander coolly over the faces staring before her. Sasuke was staring into his lap. Through the tendrils of hair shadowing his eyes, she could see the shocked horror in his eyes as a bead of sweat ran down his face. The hands gripped his seat were white at the knuckles as well.

Letting her amber eyes skate to the brooding male's left, she let her gaze stray to the wooden chair laying on its side on the floor before bringing her eyes forward to leg of the standing blonde. From the slight quaver of his body, she knew he was having trouble believing this. Any minute now, his legs would give out from under him and he'd fall to his knees and she reminded herself to ask Shizune to give Naruto some tea to calm him down later. To his left, she saw Sakura staring at her lap, hands fisted on her knees as she absorbed the information while Kakashi's expression was unreadable. If not for the two hours she had spent preparing for this meeting, she would've been the same. Naruto's quavering voice filled the room once more.

"Baa-chan, you're kidding. This is a joke, right? Right—?"

"How long?" Sakura whispered, refusing to meet her master's eyes. Tsunade let out a quiet sigh.

"Ten weeks," she said as she gauged Kakashi's reactions out of the corner of her eyes. Sweat was starting to form on his brow.

"And the baby?"

"We don't know. We have to check."

And then Kakashi couldn't take it anymore, escaping through the window into the open air.

End flashback

That was five days ago. In those five days, he hadn't eaten or slept. He could barely bring himself to look in the mirror. Around his apartment, glass shards littered the floor, all fragments of mirrors he punched out. Only the windows were still intact.

Kakashi stared at the backs of his hands, pulling back the white bandages to look at the wounds scabbing over. Though he'd had worse, the wounds were infected and it hurt to put pressure on his hands because of the pieces of glass that were still imbedded. He'd need another round of antibiotics, another segment of a lifetime spent popping pills into his mouth and swallowing water, but it didn't really matter. Not after today, anyway. He stared at the kunai knife clasped in his hands.

It was something that started the day he found out. When he got home, he went into the bathroom. Sweat was pouring down his body so he walked over to the sink and let the water run. Dipping his hands into the basin, he brought the water to his face and let out a hiss at the difference in temperature before looking at the mirror. There, he looked at his reflection. His skin was still unhealthily pale, but better since he started eating again. Other than that and the long scar over his Sharingan eye, he looked like everyone else, just another guy on the street, but he kept staring, watching the mirror image blink with him and stare back at him as if trying to look underneath the underneath of what he was. A feeling of rage and absolute loathing welled up inside him and when he finally regained consciousness of himself, pieces of the mirror were still falling into the sink and blood was running down his hands.

At first, he thought it was a fluke, an outburst of emotion he was in the right to have. He thought it would never happen again, and so he began to pick out the shards from the sink basin and all was normal until the next morning when he threw the small handheld mirror against the wall that he realized he was disgusted with himself and it wasn't going to stop.

It was when he began picking up the larger shards of glass the third day that he realized that he was beyond saving. He had raped a former student and gotten her pregnant, he could not walk through the streets without being heckled by someone, his name was as good as gone, and he just didn't care anymore. He just didn't care, and so, with nothing left, he was just as good as dead, so why not do it? The question was how.

Poison wouldn't work. Not only because he had no real quick access to poisons, he had no idea how long it would take. Strangulation was also out of the question, not only because hanging oneself was cliché, it was just stupid. It was at that time that he noticed the broken sword resting in his closet that he remembered his father. His father had committed seppuku, the ritual suicide meant to purify and purge one of their shame and disgrace. He remembered the aftermath quite clearly, even after so many years had passed. After all, how could you forget seeing the corpse of your father?

It had been a rainy day when it happened. He had just come home from the academy and had taken shelter in the overhang of the engawa. Rain was dripping off of him since he hadn't brought an umbrella that day and he slid open the screen door leading to the kitchen and asked if there was anyone there. There never was, never had been since his mother passed away, but it was a hard habit to break. He began cooking dinner.

When he was cooking that day, he remembered cutting himself with the kitchen knife and whispering something angry that would have upset his mother had she been alive. Placing his chubby finger to his mouth, he cleaned the blood off before climbing off the stool he used to access the counter and placed the food on the tray before going to his father.

Kakashi had been fairly young when his father began sinking into depression. At first, he thought his father had a cold and just needed rest, but because he was smarter than the average Academy student, he eventually figured it out. He wasn't like himself after that mission. After that mission, his father never wanted to come train with him. Instead, all he did was drink, cry, and stay in his room. He was like a ghost.

On that day, he remembered carrying the tray in his small hands, teetering side-to-side slightly since his four-yr-old body wasn't built to carry something that heavy, and checked his father's room only to find it empty with the window open and rain drenching the books and the photo frame of his mother that lay there. He stayed long enough to only clamber onto a chair and shut the window before going to scour the rest of the house.

It was exactly an hour and 58 minutes later that he reached the meditation room on the other side of their large house, the only room in the house that he hadn't searched. It was an unspoken rule in the house that no one could eat in the room. It was also a rule that when the room was in use, you did not disturb them, but Kakashi wasn't sure his father had eaten that day. Ever since the mission, he was always worried about leaving his father for school because he couldn't count on his father eating by himself anymore. He knocked on the door before sliding it open.

"Father?" he had asked in that high childish voice of his with his head down to feel the smooth reeds beneath his feet. It had struck him as odd since the room had fallen into disuse after his father's mission and the tatami mats looked as though they were cleaned recently. He called out to his father once more.

"Father?"

And it was then that he noticed the strange discoloration on the tatami mats. A dark color marred the beige reeds and a strong sharp smell permeated in the air. Briefly, he wondered what it was, and it was in the flickering light of the dying candle flames and the lightening that streaked across the sky that he realized it was blood. A crash was heard and the smell of miso soon filled the room as well.

The sound of footsteps was imprinted firmly in his mind from that moment. Small hurried footsteps that were distinctly his echoed in the room as the sticky feeling of squished rice grains mingled with the blood on his heels. His tiny chest heaving, he knelt down, struggling to push his father's hunched body up as he felt blood from the mats seep into his clothing. Somehow, he managed to move the body and he noticed his father's eyes were milky; hands firmly grasped on the hilt of the tanto resting in his abdomen. As his eyes locked onto the amount of blood staining the white kimono his father wore, he wondered where his father had kept it since he never saw it in the closet where his mother's wedding kimono was.

A sickening splat was heard and he watched as his father's intestine spilled onto the floor from the large incisions he had made with the tanto. Though the incision itself was impressive—it had spanned from his right to his left with another going up and down—the pain itself was probably unbearable. Though facing that pain was probably how the person regained their honor, it wasn't only that that had purged his father's shame. It was the fact that no kaishakunin had been present. No person had been there with a sword ready to end his father's suffering in an instant. Instead, his father's face bore a quiet dignity that was surprisingly fitting of him. He had forgotten such calmness on his father's face after the mission. All he remembered was rough grey stubble and deep frown marks, but now it was no longer so. His father was free, and it was something that he had been happy about at the time.

As the warm wonder that encased him as he celebrated his father's liberation from hell, something cold slithered up his skin. It started in the area around him, the air suddenly colder and his socks no longer keeping his small feet warm. It began moving steadily upwards after that, inching its way across his pale skin and small limbs before penetrating his body and lancing his heart with an icy grip. That was how he remembered how eerily similar his father's face was to his and he realized that he might look like that when he was older. He had never thought of it before as an Academy student, dying a horrible, gruesome death in a desolate area with no one the wiser until they came upon the wreckage, but upon seeing his father's corpse, the idea became implanted in his head.

His charcoal eyes had slid slowly back to his father's face, having moved when he was deep in thought, but as soon as he locked eyes with his father's milky gaze, he realized he was looking into the future. He was staring at death, and his screams of terror echoed in the meditation room as he scrambled to get away, running as fast as he could on his stubby legs. Lightening flashed in the sky and briefly, he looked up distractedly. Suddenly, cold wetness seeped into his socks and his feet lost touch with his ground, suddenly sending him into the air and into a cluster of rocks. It was there in the gardens that he lost consciousness, cold rain seeping into his skin as lightening mixed with the stars before his eyes and the faint sound of Minato-sensei's footsteps echoed in the compound.

Kakashi raised his hand to touch an area hidden by his hair. When he hit the rock, he had gained a large gash. If his sensei hadn't have found him, he would've bled to death. No one walked the streets near the Hatake compound. They had been ostracized by the villagers, and no one would've missed him, but his sensei and maybe Jiraiya. Looking back, he wished that Minato hadn't have found him, if only to prevent the events that had taken place these few weeks. His hand shook and he turned his attention back to the heavy weight resting in his palm.

The kunai knife was nothing special. It was standard-issue and the bandages wrapped around the handle were soft, worn by age and use. In seppuku tradition, a tanto or wakizashi would be used, but looking back on it, his father didn't exactly follow seppuku tradition as he did juumonji-giri, but he was getting ahead of himself. What he was doing wasn't seppuku or juumonji-giri. No amount of bloodshed would fully purge him of his shame. It was why he was going to take the womanly way out by slitting his wrists. Slitting your wrists was considered to be a woman's suicide and he felt shame bear down upon his shoulders. Normally, he wouldn't care about the characteristics assigned to gender roles, but he did care. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

Shallow breaths echoed in his ear. Beneath his skin, his tendons stretched taut. He would have to slice past it to reach the arteries. Briefly, he thought about the mess he would make and wondered if he should do it in the bathroom instead of the living room where he had originally planned to do it, only to cast aside the idea. He was shaking now and he was sure if he moved his legs at all, he would throw up.

'Besides, if I do make a mess, it's just another thing I've screwed up in my life.'

And with that thought, he unwound the bandages from his hands and poised his wrist, feeling the muscles of his chest shift under his skin one more time as the kunai knife hung above his arm as the clock ticked away in its monotone voice and a slight buzzing rang in his ears.

Birds chirped; their black shadows stark against the grey sky as they moved aimlessly in the air they flew upon. Despite it being May, Konoha's normally temperate weather was nowhere to be seen, but it did nothing to disturb the goings of its citizens, one of them in particular. She had just brought a jacket.

Sakura strolled peacefully through the quiet streets of the older neighborhood, listening to the small echo of her footsteps as she walked. Though unusual, it was not unheard of for this part of the city to be empty. Many of its residents were known to be reclusive, and briefly, she giggled at thought realizing Kakashi must be right at home in this neighborhood.

A breeze crossed her path and unconsciously, she draped her hand across her stomach before looking down at the slight curve of her stomach. It was strange to think something living was developing inside. Though she had seen countless films and read books on the topic of pregnancy, she never really expected it to happen to her, despite her dreams of helping Sasuke restore his clan. In fact, she didn't seem much like a motherly type. Thinking about her violent tendencies, she couldn't help but be afraid for any child that crossed her path on a bad day, which lead to the question of why she was keeping this baby. Gently, she placed her hand over her stomach.

When Tsunade had first told her she was pregnant, she couldn't believe it. At that moment, everything seemed to fade to black, leaving her alone to think 'why me?' It was all she could do, asking Kami why he had blighted her with such a curse. She had suffered enough, hadn't she? At a young age, she had stained her innocence with the blood of others. The boy she had loved was ripped from her hands, and her selfishness had almost caused her the loss of another. Fate had never been kind to her before and the lesson of life never being fair had been ingrained into her soul, but of all things, why that?

Her mind had begun spinning as she kept her eyes on the floor in an attempt to anchor herself in this reality. She had glanced up once or twice to see Tsunade's lips moving, but she hadn't been able to hear anything. She was pregnant. She had been raped and she was pregnant.

Her first thought was to plunge her hands into her stomach and tear it from her right then and there. It didn't matter that she could've died from blood loss; she just had to get it out of her. All that mattered was that she had to get that thing out of her. Her body still felt the sensations, her mind still carried the scars; she did not need a constant reminder of it, especially in the guise of something as innocent as a child.

Even if she did keep it, how would she be able to stand being with it? Knowing that a product of such a vile moment in her life was alive drove her wild. Even if she put it up for adoption, knowing it was breathing the same air as her, alive and happy as she suffered made her stomach turn.

At the time, she had turned her gaze to her own body, menacing terror at the form inside her body mounting alongside a sickening realization and loathing that even as she thought these things, it was still growing inside her. It was the first time she hated something with all her being.

With those thoughts in her mind, she felt empowered, sure of her choice and ready to terminate this "child," but when Tsunade asked her what her choice was, she found herself hesitating. It was perfectly legal since it had yet to grow a heart and could not be considered as anything more than a parasite and it was perfectly understandable for someone in her position, so why was she hesitating?

It was at that moment that a memory of Kurenai's pregnancy entered her mind. In that memory was the image of her son, crying and screaming as it was brought from the warmth and safety of its mother's womb, cleaned, and brought to his joyous mother's arms. It had been a tender moment. That child was all Kurenai had left of Asuma, and the look of pure joy and thankfulness was something Sakura would carry with for all her life, but why of all times did it decide to make itself known once more? Then she realized something. It was hers.

The thought stunned her enough to retake her seat in the small, cramped office. Despite how much she hated it, she was still its mother and even if it wasn't alive now, it would be if given a chance. Slowly, realizations began occurring to her. Though she was a jounin, she was a medic first—a healer. She saved lives. Even if being a jounin meant killing people, she didn't decide their fate, the client did, but now that she was given a chance, she realized it wasn't as simple as good versus evil. The fetus inside her had done nothing wrong. It was just conceived by forces beyond its control. Despite her earlier misgivings, this child was truly innocent, and from her hatred, love was born.

When she told Tsunade her decision, she had tried to sway her, saying she was being too hasty, that it would take time, but Sakura said she had taken the time. The blonde woman then gave her statistics, saying it wasn't uncommon for termination of the fetus in these cases, but Sakura politely refused. When it became glaringly evident that Sakura had put her foot down on the matter, Tsunade stared at her flatly and asked if she realized what she was getting into. Sakura merely nodded, saying that come whatever may, she would raise this child and was met with silence before Tsunade handed her a slip of paper stating the date of her prenatal exam and booted her out of the office stating gruffly that if she needed anything, she needn't hesitate to ask.

To say Sakura had been shocked was an understatement, but it was nothing compared to how Naruto reacted. Sasuke had been surprisingly calm, and she made the two of them promise to keep a tight lip. Sasuke had commented that she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever, to which she admitted regretfully that she knew. Though she knew that she wouldn't be able to hide it from the disapproving glares and whispers of the village for long, she wished she could so her child could grow up with a world without whispers floating around it. All she could do was hold them to silence until she told Kakashi. He was the father, after all.

"I wonder how he'll react," she whispered as she smiled to her stomach. She was a bit disappointed that she couldn't even diagnose her own pregnancy, thinking it was only the flu, but those thoughts quickly left her mind as she threw up from morning sickness. At least her appetite was returning. She'd have to start gaining weight like her doctor told her, and suddenly all the things her doctor had told her began racing through her mind. Even if she already knew most of those things, having to experience them was starting to make her head spin and her hand unconsciously flew once more to her stomach and she smiled. Despite all of the hassle of pregnancy, it would be worth it to give birth to a healthy baby.

At the thought of the baby, a smile graced her lips before she shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. She still hadn't told Kakashi, and as soon as she thought of him, her heart skipped a beat. In fact, it skipped a few beats and had been for the last few weeks whenever she thought of him. Though the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, it was a bit unnerving. Was she regressing?

But she quickly rid herself of such thoughts as she approached his apartment building. She had to be level-headed for this. Though Kakashi had made remarkable process, the news of the pregnancy had shaken him. She could only imagine his reaction when she told him she decided to keep it. Though she wanted him to at least see the baby once it was born, what he did was his decision and therefore, beyond her control, and no amount of praying would change that. Especially since her prayers seemed to always go unheard. A low rumble shook the skies.

"Huh?" she asked softly, turning her head to the world outside the overhang to see the sky had darkened and small dark stains had begun appearing on the ground.

'Rain?' she questioned before knocking once more. At the silence she received, a tinge of worry made itself known and she reached for the doorknob. Surprisingly, the door was open and as she watched the door open to the living room, she saw something that made her blood run cold.

Kakashi stared at his wrist as the kunai knife lay poised above his arm. For this, he decided one vertical stroke would be good enough, but as soon as he moved the knife closer to his skin, he heard the door creak open and looked up to see shocked beryl eyes staring into his. A breeze entered the room past her trembling body and as lightening flashed against the wall of the opposite building, he realized he should've put on a shirt. Sakura's voice shook as she spoke.

"Wha-what are you doing?"

And at the stunned look in her eyes, he found himself no longer able to face her. He returned his attention to the wrist.

"I'm going to end it," he said in a bare whisper, and despite the boom of thunder, she heard his words clear as day.

"Why?" she whispered. He gave a hollow laugh in return.

"After all that's happened, you're asking me that?" he said a darkly amused smile on his face before he began picking up where he left off, placing the weapon against his skin and feeling the slight pricks of the blade edge on his skin. Now that she was here, he could only hope not too much blood would get on her. It would be foolish to hope that none would be on her since he was cutting into arteries, but he hoped it wouldn't be too much otherwise it would ruin the lovely floral print on her white dress, and Kami knew how hard blood stains were to remove. He angled the knife. She gripped his arm and threw it away. When had she gotten so close? He felt his shoulders tense slightly.

"What are you doing?"

"Stopping you from making one of the worst mistakes of your life," she replied as tears stung her eyes. Kakashi was an idiot.

"How is it a mistake? And if I'm not mistaken, it's my life. You wouldn't know what's good or bad for me," he said as he bent down to pick up the knife. Sakura immediately slapped it away and he looked at her, glared at her challengingly as he picked it once more, only for her to slap it away again. A thud echoed down the hallway.

"I'm getting tired of this cat and mouse game. Just tell me why you're here."

His breath tickled her skin and his eyes glinted in the dim light offered by the open door. Power exuded from him and his grip on her wrists tightened, not painful, but telling her he was running out of patience. Looking over his shoulder, another flash of lightening streaked the sky, causing shadows to dance on the neighboring buildings. Her eyes focused on the world outside.

"I came to stop you."

"No one knew I was going to do this and you're certainly not wearing the kind of attire someone would for stopping a suicide attempt," he mused.

"It doesn't matter."

At her adamant tone, his fist connected with the wall by her ear, causing her hair to shift with the small gust. A warning.

"It does matter. Why are you doing this?"

And she honestly didn't know. Why was she doing this? She was just coming over here to tell him she was keeping the baby. When had it become a rescue situation?

"B-because."

"Because why?"

"Because."

"Sakura, I'm doing you a favor. You're better off without me. The entire village is better off without me," he admitted as he pushed off the wall and cast his gaze to the side, hanging his head in shame as grey light and dark shadows continued to ghost over his body. The atmosphere was no longer as rushed and tense as it was before and in place of the agitation, a sullen air took its place. Above her head, the clock ticked.

"That's not true. You're one of the best shinobi to ever come out of Konoha!"

"And what? Sakura, there will always be someone better. Titles come and go, but I only have one life. It's better that I end it now than live the rest of it out in shame." A tired sigh escaped his lips as he bent down to pick up the wayward kunai once more and placed it to his skin. "You should probably…"

And suddenly, the world became still. Shadows continued ghosting over his skin with every flash of lightening; the thunder roared in the sky, enveloped in its own symphony with every diminuendo and crescendo punctuated by white, hot light. Closing his eyes, he felt his cheek warm through his mask as light flashed while the other felt strangely cool in the shadows. His voice faltered.

"Why…?"

"Why what?" she whispered against his back as she held in. The embrace was eerily familiar and her mind was transported to her genin days where she pleaded with Sasuke to stop. He left soon after that. Would she lose Kakashi also?

"Why do you care so much?" he asked softly. There was a pain in his voice she wasn't accustomed to hearing. Looking back, she didn't believe she ever heard anything like it. It was low and mournful like the melody of a sad song. It made her want to cry. She ended up doing just that.

"Because," she replied like a petulant child as she strengthened her hold. Her fingertips were ghosting over his collarbone and her nails were probably leaving small scratches. She'd have to fix them later.

"Because? That doesn't give me much to go on," he stated as he lifted his head to gaze directly in front of him, watching as the shadow of a lampshade stretched across his grey-tinted walls. Briefly, he wondered when the rain would stop.

"What more do you need?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't need more. I'm a horrible selfish man. I don't have the right to want more."

"You do, Kakashi. You do," she pleaded. He could feel her tears leave small hot trails down his back as they rolled over his scars and dipped into his spine. Her hands clung shamelessly to him as if he would melt away if she didn't and he could feel her tiny frame shake against him.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care so much?" And he felt her lift her head from his back and he found himself missing the weight and the warmth it brought him. He heard her sniffle and could imagine her face as she looked up at him, whatever little there was to look at. Her eyelashes brushed against him as she blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why do you care so much?" he repeated, this time facing her. "Why is it that you care whether I die or not? Everyone else doesn't care; they think it'd be better if I wasn't here. I certainly do, and you certainly have the right to wish me dead, so why…why do you care if I'm here or not?"

His tone was stronger now and his hands gripped her shoulders as he searched her eyes, her face, anything that would give him a clue, but she was just as lost as he was as she stared up at him with large eyes that beheld nothing but his own face. He sighed and picked up the kunai from where he placed it, moving a few steps away from her to shield her as best he could from the imminent fountain of blood. "Guess this is goodbye, Sakura-chan."

And she watched as his arm moved and in the flash of another lightening bolt, the knife gleamed in his hands. Running towards him, she once again began their merry-go-round and held him in her grasp. He felt her body tremble against him and sighed tiredly as he stared past the knife to the ground. His hand was hurting again.

"Why do you want me to stop? It shouldn't matter to you so much whether I live or die, so why do you want me to live so badly?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Just because."

"Because why?"

She flinched at his sharp tone and his muscles tensed wherever she touched. His grip on the kunai handle was knuckle-white and when she saw him raise the knife above his wrist, she felt terror grip her heart.

"Because I love you!"

At those words, she felt Kakashi draw away from her and she let him slip from her fingers as she drew away on unsteady legs. When she finally stopped, her hands trembled and when she looked up, she saw the silver-haired man stare at her in astonishment.

"Kakashi…"

"I'm sorry, but did I just hear you say that you loved me?"

But Sakura didn't answer, mind still swimming from her outburst. Was that what it was? Did she love Kakashi? Inwardly, she chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. Not only had she known the man for years, he was her former teacher. The one time Ino had insinuated how hot a relationship between her friend and her sensei would be, she decked the girl into the streets from their café booth, but they had been seventeen then, and in the years since the return of Naruto, she had begun to interact with the silver-haired man, but it had been purely platonic. He wasn't the love of her life; he was just (for lack of better words) there. Even when she made jounin two years ago and became his compatriot, she had felt nothing but the same caring and compassion she did all her boys. She would give her life for any of them, so why did it suddenly feel like cheating to say she loved him like the other two members of the original Team 7. What changed?

It suddenly dawned on her that they all did. The lines in the sand were clearer now than ever. Sasuke would only be a brother to her, Naruto would only be her male best friend, but Kakashi had outgrown those boundaries the day he came to her on that rainy day and poured his soul out to her. She learned everything about him from those visits. His strengths, his weaknesses, the things that made him Hatake Kakashi. The fact he trusted her with his thoughts when he trusted no one was endearing. It made her feel…special.

"I…love you," she whispered into her upturned hands with wonderment as tears streamed down her face. It was a wonderful and frightening realization and though she was no longer trembling, she wasn't sure she could stand on her feet any longer. Elation shadowed by sheer terror was the only way she could think of describing it, and she turned her eyes to Kakashi only to see him turn away.

"Leave."

His answered startled her. "What?"

"Leave."

"But Kakashi, I—"

"You're crazy," he muttered under his breath as he raked a hand through his hair before glancing over his shoulder to see her still staring at him with wide doe eyes that made him feel absolutely disgusted at that moment; at both him and her. "Why are you still here? I told you to go," he snapped.

"But I love you, Kakashi."

And despite the softness of her voice, he could hear the determination in her voice and it made him want to rip out his hair in frustration. "No Sakura, you only think you love me."

"I only think I love you?"

"Yes," he answered as if it was the simplest damn thing in the world and she felt her temper flare slightly at his condescending tone. She could feel her brows knit, but she held her anger and bit back the callous words on her tongue. The first time she lost someone, it was because she was foolish and went with whatever impulsive idea she thought would get Sasuke to stay. She wasn't going to repeat it again. She didn't think her heart could stand it happening a second time.

"How would you know that I'm only imagining my feelings? How would you know that I'm not really in love with you?"

"Because you can't be! Sakura, I raped you. I desecrated your body and you're pregnant. You're pregnant with my child—a child conceived from one of the worst memories of your life. After an experience like that, you can't love me. You only think you do."

"And if I still say that I love you?"

"Then I'd say you've developed some form of Stockholm syndrome. Sakura, no matter what you think or would like to think, you can't love me," he said with a sigh. It was something he truly believed. She could not be in love with him because it wouldn't make sense. It was impossible to think a rape victim would fall in love with her rapist. Such things were the basis of insanity, and as much as he'd like to think that she was just saying that to stop him, he knew Sakura would never throw those words around so carelessly. After Sasuke, she was careful with her heart. At that moment, he only wished she had been more careful.

A slight tickle was felt on his back as arms slid around his mid-section. He gripped the kunai tightly in his fist. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I love you, Kakashi. I love you, I love you, I love you," she said calmly as she held him. Even as he struggled weakly in her grasp, telling her that she was being ludicrous and it was all in her mind, she continued to speak those words until he finally gave up and let the kunai knife fall from his hands with a muffled thud in the carpet as he sank to his knees. Tears pricked his eyes and he sank against her side with his head hung in defeat as he wept quietly on her shoulder, Sakura weaving her fingers through his hair and whispering soothing words in his ear.

Glossary:

Seppuku: A form of ritual suicide to purge one of shame and restore honor. The person committing the act would be bathed and given white robes to put on. They would be fed their favorite meal and/or sake and were presented with the sword. The sword would be wrapped with white cloth and presented on a wooden tray (no idea what it's called in actuality), and the person would write a death poem before opening their robe and taking the sword, plunging it into their stomach and making the left-to-right incision. At this point, the kaishakunin would cut off the person's head, leaving a bit of flesh so that the head wouldn't roll off and to keep blood spray to a minimum. Though part of bushido, the code samurai follow, people other than the samurai class have committed seppuku such as women and civilians.

Engawa: Veranda-like space. Found in traditional Japanese houses.

Tatami: Mats made of fibrous plant material. Rooms in Japan are generally measured by how many mats are used to cover the floor.

Tanto (tantou): A dagger.

Wakizashi: A samurai's short sword.

Kaishakunin: Person (usually a well-trusted person or close friend) who is to cut off the head of the person committing seppuku at the first sign of pain (screams, distortion of face) so that the person will still retain their honor from seppuku. Usually a person with knowledge of the sword since it took precision (there are historical accounts where the kaishakunin took more than the one stroke required. One account told of the kaishakunin breaking the person's jaw, one of the strongest bones in the body, then hacking away at the neck before finally slicing off the head).

Jumonji-giri (juumonji-giri): A more painful form of seppuku that some samurai chose to do. No kaishakunin would be present and instead of a single slice across the midsection, another incision would be made going up and down. The person was expected to die quietly from blood loss.