"You threw your fight."
Sakura looked up from the blue notebook she was currently writing in. "Of all the things I thought you'd finally want to talk to me about, that was low on my list."
Kakashi looked at her like she was being difficult, which was extremely unfair seeing as it was he that was keeping her in the dark. He had whisked her back home before they could even congratulate Naruto on his victory against Kiba, started asking her all sorts of questions about the last few days in the Forest of Death, and then lapsed into silence while he recorded her answers in a report she wasn't allowed to read. Her own questions had gone ignored so long that Sakura had long since given up and started working on her personal project instead.
"Don't you want to be a chunin?"
She shrugged. "It's not really a priority for me like it is for Ino. Besides, it'll take three days just to get to Lightning, so we'd never make it back in time for the final exam." Apparently the finals were originally scheduled for a week's time, but they had moved up the schedule for reasons that Kakashi (once again) neglected to explain.
"Why would we go to Lightning?" He frowned, and Sakura stared at him.
"Because that's where The Watcher sent me to kill a man a few weeks ago? Were you even listening to me earlier?" She, at least, was perfectly happy to share information with others, as long as it meant they could actually make some progress.
"We can't go to Lightning, Sakura."
"Sure we can," she cajoled, because the alternative was screaming and throwing a pen at his head. "We just start walking north."
"I've put your intel in my report," he gestured to the sealed scroll in front of him, "and when they come by to collect it, you can ask them yourself if we'll be the ones sent to track down your lead. But I think you know we won't be."
She deflated slightly. "Because I'm still connected to The Watcher, and you've got the only key that opens Inside?" The logic was sound, even if she ultimately disagreed with it. It would be too easy to lose her, and too dangerous if they lost Kakashi.
"That and…several other reasons," he agreed, and for the first time since they had gotten home, he tugged his mask down so that she could see his entire face. He looked as defeated as she felt. "I'm sorry."
"It has to be me," she whispered, silently begging him to understand. "I tolerated the chunin exam for a while, because the boys needed a third teammate and you said I could get information. Well now the boys are through to the individual rounds, and I've got a lead."
"Truth is," Kakashi said, running a hand through his already-wild hair, "we're both going to be under strict supervision from now on."
She frowned; that wasn't what she'd expected him to say. "I thought we already were."
"Stricter." He looked down at his sealed report, and then, to her surprise, stood up and went to the fridge. Under a bag of slimy green stuff that might have been lettuce once, he retrieved a half-empty bottle of saké.
She watched, bemused, as he returned to the tiny coffee table and sat the bottle between them. "Did you forget glasses, or are we just going to drink it straight from the bottle?"
"It's not for drinking," he told her. "The bottle has a jammer for listening jutsu."
"Oh."
"I'm only telling you this because you have a right to know," he said, and she leaned closer. Finally, finally, he was ready to talk to her. "About Nohara Rin."
It was the first time she had heard him say The Name, and it seemed to require some effort.
"Yes?" she eventually prompted, because he had fallen silent again.
"She was part of my original team. And the third member of that team was the Uchiha who gave me the sharingan."
Pieces were starting to connect in Sakura's mind, but the image being formed was still too blurry to fully comprehend. "You said that Uchiha died."
"He did." Kakashi looked miserable. "When I was nine, and he was thirteen. I saw him get crushed by a rockslide."
"Nine? Wow." She hadn't realised the village let anyone younger than twelve join active service. "But you didn't see the body?"
He shook his head. "He was beyond recovery. That's why we thought someone might have stolen his right eye later, and transplanted it. Like this one." He brushed a hand over his forehead protector.
"And the girl? Rin?"
"She also died," he confirmed. "Aged sixteen. She, at least, is definitely dead." He bit his lower lip, and Sakura wondered if he had forgotten his mask was down.
"So why was Ino asking about her?" The full picture was congealing in all the wrong places. "If she died, what? A decade ago?"
Kakashi took a deep breath, and Sakura had a strange urge to place a hand over his mouth before he could say whatever came next. She had waited years to learn the name of The Watcher, but suddenly she wasn't ready.
"When Inoichi talked to your subconscious, it had a distinct, separate personality. That can happen when there's sufficient trauma; the mind splinters into different identities who can help manage it better." His eyes slid away from hers. "In this instance, your subconscious believed it was Nohara Rin."
"The dead girl."
He grimaced, then nodded.
"And the reason my subconscious believes it's Nohara Rin is because that's who I become whenever The Watcher takes me out." It was like one of Sensei's lessons, a chance for her to theorise aloud until the facts formed a narrative that made sense. "That's what you all think?"
He nodded again, eyes on the table.
"And that's because The Watcher knew Nohara Rin. Because it wasn't someone who stole your dead friend's eye, but the dead friend himself. Yeah?"
"You…called me a nickname that only he would have known." Kakashi's voice was quiet. "So yes, that seems to be the case."
They sat in silence for a moment, chewing on that disturbing thought and all its implications. There was a dead woman in her head, wearing her skin. Warping her mind.
She reached out, unscrewed the bottle's cap, and downed half of the remaining saké.
"What's the Uchiha's name?" she asked, trying to enjoy the burning in her throat and belly. She wasn't sure how alcohol would affect her, but it felt good to do something that accurately reflected the situation she was in.
"Obito," Kakashi murmured, and the name meant nothing at all to her. No twinge of recognition, no jolt of understanding. Perhaps he had never revealed it to her, despite his apparent nostalgia for his old life.
"No wonder you don't think you'll be part of the mission to get 'Obito,' if he's your old buddy."
"We're not friends," Kakashi interjected, rising to Sakura's bait. "Not since..."
"Since he died?" She raised an eyebrow. "Or since he became a monster?"
He seemed to wilt before her eyes. "Either."
She felt strangely disappointed by his lack of fight. It would be easier to set this feeling inside her free, if she could aim it at him.
"Uchiha Obito," she murmured. "Nohara Rin. Hatake Kakashi." She drank the rest of the alcohol slowly, willing it to lend her its strength. When it was empty, she placed it back on the table between them like a punctuation mark in their conversation.
"Why me?"
"...What?"
"It's a simple enough question. Why me, do you think?"
"I don't know," he said after a moment.
"Do I look like her?" she gave a little bark of laughter. "Did she have pink hair?"
"Brown."
"Brown." She nodded to herself. "Do you remember when I gave you all that hair? Everyone from Inside?"
"Yes?" Her eyes were fixed on the bottle, so she could only guess what expression he was currently making.
"Naomi has brown hair. Why not her?"
"I don't…"
"I think you do." She placed the bottle on its side and spun it in a circle, round and round, like that game kids played together when they were an age Sakura had already passed alone. Better to keep moving; inertia was death. "Were your teammates in love?"
The silence stretched so long that she almost looked up at him, but then he finally sighed. "I think he loved her, yes."
"Rin didn't love him back?" She laughed again. "Can't imagine why."
"I know this is a lot, but listen, there are certain people out there who are trained to deal with this sort of thing."
"This sort of thing?" That was so absurd that Sakura couldn't help but look him in the eye. To his credit, he looked properly abashed.
"Trauma comes in a lot of forms," he explained, "and if you talk to these professionals, they might be able to help you with yours."
"I want to talk to you." She twisted the bottle until the neck pointed toward him. "You're the one who knew them best. Uchiha Obito." She sent it spinning again. "Nohara Rin." Another spin. "And Hatake Kakashi." The bottle was spinning fast now, making a hollow, glassy sound against the faux wood table.
"I never once imagined that Obito could be alive, and if I had, I would never have expected the boy I knew to become someone who could do this." Kakashi spoke in a rush, like he needed her to forgive him before the bottle stopped spinning again.
"And what exactly did he do, Kakashi?" Sakura tapped the bottle so that it lost control, skating off its axis. She caught it before it toppled onto the floor, and promptly set it spinning again. "Did 'Rin' give you details?"
The Others had always joked about favouritism, until the sword and all the other gifts arrived and the joke became a little too real.
"She said," he began, and even though he'd set him up, she hated that he spoke about her subconscious mind like it was a different person. It wasn't Nohara Rin, not really. It was her. It had happened to her. "She said you had only ever kissed."
"Do you believe her?"
"I think it's possible." Kakashi looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. "Obito was always…bashful. Especially about Rin."
"But I'm not Rin, am I?" she smiled wryly, and it gave her a perverse pleasure to see Kakashi squirm.
"All the same," he said, clearly choosing his words carefully, "I choose to believe it."
The bottle finally came to a stop, rocking gently.
"Do you think he took me because of you?" she asked, digging her fingernails into her palm to keep her voice calm. "Do you think he made me special because he knew I was yours?"
"I don't know," Kakashi admitted. "But…if I could go back to that night-"
The bottle smashed against the wall.