Kakashi eased the door open, silently slipped between the wood and its frame before closing the door behind him noiselessly. He heard his steady heart beat gently thumping in his ears as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the apartment. Further into the flat, he saw shadows dance, illuminated by open windows. He slowly took steady steps, listening carefully to the wind tickling the leaves. Birds tweeted. As he past a window he glanced out to see children running down the street. His chest twisted. They looked the same age as Team Seven when he first met them so long ago.
He swallowed thickly. "Sakura?"
She didn't answer, but he heard the ting of metal on porcelain. He quickened his footsteps, entering a room on the far corner of the home.
Beige walls with matching plush carpet contrasted by dark wooden tables and a dresser in the corner. The bed, that sat low to the floor, that to Kakashi hadn't been properly slept in for months, had the same matching dark stained wood.
And a long, sleek mirror sat propped against the wall in the corner. The closet, if the door was open would hide the mirror. It looked like it would have been hung up. Or, perhaps, it had been. Before the giant crack a third of the way up wasn't spidering down. The dark frame of the mirror was that same color as the rest of the furniture.
And in front of that mirror was Sakura.
She was seated, her knees up, hooked around her elbows, and her ankles crossed. Her once strong, capable arms looked thin and rail wore a loose fitting shirt-that perhaps still fit her when she got home from the war three months ago, showed the sharp contrast of her collar bone. Her green eyes were dull and sunken. Not looking at him through the mirror, but also not looking at herself. The smile-that damn fake smile she'd been wearing two days ago when the last person saw her-looked like it would never see the light of day again.
Kakashi took brave steps towards her. "Sakura…" He steeled himself before leaning down and brushing his fingers against her thin shoulder.
She almost seemed to jolt, her eyes looking up to him. She slowly looked back down at the mirror. After what seemed like forty minutes, she spoke. Her voice was raspy and drained of all emotion.
"Remember when I cut my hair all those years ago?" Her lips quirked up. She looked down around her feet, picking up long locks of pink hair. Her small quirk quickly died. "So innocent." Sakura let the lock slip out of her fingers. It quickly broke apart and scattered around her. Some strands joining other gatherings of hair. Kakashi slowly eased himself down next to her.
"Naruto's worried about you." He said, shifting himself on the floor he moved to sit behind her, pulling a kunai out of his pouch. She made no noise as his bare fingers ran over her head roughly. He pushed her head down, her chin almost pushing down on her collar. She'd done quite a number on her hair.
Before this little incident, her hair brushed her shoulders. It had the ability to go up in a ponytail to keep out of her face, but short enough to still be considered 'short.' Now small tuff stuck out in uneven lumps off her head. Some inches from the base of her head, but others…
"What did you use?" He asked, pressing the kunai close to her scalp.
"Chakra scalpel."
He gripped her head with his fingers, pulling her back so her green eyes were looking at his dark ones. "Do you realize how dangerous that was?"
Her eyes shined with a little life. "I'm a doctor."
He shoved her head back down and moved to another bit of her head, slowly and methodically cutting the hair as close to her head as possible. "So you wouldn't mind me telling Tsunade-sama?"
Sakura was quiet for a moment. "Please don't." She said meekly. He let up a small hum.
Slowly, smaller strands fell as they both sat in silence. Kakashi asked no questions and Sakura offered no explanation. That, like her pink locks would come out in time.
Kakashi ran his fingers over her smooth crown. "All done." He leaned back as she ran both of her small hands over her head. "A few fuzzy spots, I don't think I did too bad of a job."
He wasn't expecting a thanks. He was really hoping for maybe a smile-that real smile. But what he got wasn't what he expected. She leaned back. Her back almost painful against his front as she completely deflated into a pile of tears. Unsure of himself, he wrapped his arms her, and himself as she sobbed for the first time since, he was sure of it, the beginning of the war.