Doing something as unthinkable as kissing Sakura at the end of this rather difficult day had not been on Kakashi's map.
But perhaps he should have seen it coming. It was one of those days after all…
Kakashi had arrived at Naruto's wedding doing his best to play the part of a joyful guest—a role that never quite suited him, even when fewer worries clouded his mind. Crowds and him… the two didn't match. At least the speech had gone well, no one would have guessed just how much he hated being in the spotlight.
Later, as he stood among the guests, watching Naruto beam with happiness, surrounded by his friends and new family, Kakashi had felt an immense surge of pride, almost like a father watching his son step into a new chapter of life. He hadn't shed tears like Iruka or Hinata's father, but his eyes had certainly misted over.
The force of that emotional moment stirred something unsettling in Kakashi. All his life, from the time he could walk, he had been trained as a shinobi, taught to control or suppress his emotions. Emotions were seen as weaknesses, distractions that could cloud judgment in critical moments. Yet here he was, surrounded by joy and optimism, with his heart swelling and swelling and feeling like it might burst. He wasn't supposed to feel this much. He wasn't supposed to be so affected by the happiness of others, by the passage of time, or by the idea of people moving forward with their lives.
It struck him as both a revelation and a dilemma: all the years of discipline, all the lessons in detachment, had failed. His emotions were still very much alive, quietly affecting his decisions and his view of the world. Was that good or bad? Was a village leader allowed emotions? Surely, compassion was a must, but beyond?
Because of being this vulnerable in his puzzlement, he had forgotten the metaphorical wall he'd vowed to reconstruct sturdier than ever. And Sakura—looking like an absolute goddess at the wedding—had broken through all of his defenses with ease, with nothing more than a single smile. It had disarmed him completely. One short conversation later, and somehow, despite all his inner caution, he had agreed to another dinner with her.
This thing between them. It was a problem and not a small one.
The unexpected appearance of Sasuke had, at least temporarily, eased Kakashi's other biggest worry. Yamato had returned earlier that day with a troubling report about a growing criminal element in the sprawling network of tunnels beneath Konoha. The underground presence posed a significant threat to the village's hard-won peace, and rumors had swirled that Sasuke, with his shadowy past, might be the one leading this group of rogues. But after a direct confrontation with their prisoner—a skilled woman, slippery and still withholding crucial information—those ugly rumors could be put to rest. Sasuke was not the mastermind behind this group.
His relief about Sasuke's innocence was short-lived, though, because there remained the matter of who was behind this organization if not him. Not two hours ago, in this very office, they had discussed these urgent matters in a small circle.
"Send me to the Land of Earth to investigate further," Sasuke volunteered. Yamato had just confirmed once more that their prisoner's faint accent placed her there. "Incognito."
Kakashi pondered the risk of such an action. They may be at peace, but sending someone like Sasuke Uchiha to another country with a secret mission could cause a massive diplomatic incident.
"Could we pretend it's a different kind of mission?" He wondered out loud. "I could write to the Tsuchikage and…"
"Telephone," Yamato remarked drily.
"...write to the Tsuchikage," Kakashi repeated undeterred, "to tell her I'm sending Sasuke Uchiha to…"
"...learn how to make Rock Rice Cakes," Sai finished the sentence eagerly.
Everybody just stared at him, their expressions one of disbelief. That he was serious made the entire situation even more ludicrous.
"It's their specialty," Sai added, his brow furrowing in confusion at the silence that followed his proclamation.
"I know how to make rice cakes," Sasuke grumbled.
"But not those," Sai frowned. "They're a specialty."
Sasuke's expression turned annoyed. "I can handle myself. I don't need a cover story about rice cakes to get in and out without anyone noticing."
Sasuke's inability to accept anyone's guidance was still a problem. But Sai had a lot to learn too if he wanted to succeed as Anbu Commander.
"When do you think you can leave?" Kakashi asked Sasuke.
"Tomorrow," the answer came straight away.
Of course, Kakashi was glad Sasuke had volunteered, knowing that his skills and connections in the outer regions might yield answers that Konoha needed. And yet, for the life of him Kakashi could not understand why Sasuke was so eager to leave Konoha every time he returned. Kakashi had tried, time and again, to make Sasuke feel at home, to remind him that Konoha was still his village, his people. But no matter what Kakashi did, no matter the warmth or respect he tried to show, nothing seemed to settle Sasuke's restless heart. He would barely set foot in the village before seeking the next mission, the next journey.
Why couldn't he see that his greatest chance at peace was the smart, beautiful woman waiting for him to return?
"I would like you to be the leader of a new Konoha Police Force," Kakashi told him. "We need one. And it's your family who deserves that honor."
Sasuke's expression hardened, his lips forming a thin line. "My family no longer exists," he replied flatly.
Kakashi refused to back down. He gave Sasuke his best teacher's voice. "Then make a new one. Everybody else is moving on; haven't you seen it today? We are the ones who shape our own futures."
Sasuke's silence was deafening. Kakashi took a breath, adding another piece of hard earned wisdom. "You have a chance to build something meaningful. Something that matters—not just for you, but for the village and for your family's legacy. Think about it. Let me know when you return."
Sasuke's gaze drifted away, staring at something distant, lost in thought. Kakashi could almost see the internal battle playing out behind those dark eyes. He pressed on, determined to reach him. "You have people who care about you. You have a village that wants to respect you. Make this place your home again."
And stop torturing Sakura. You make her miserable and she deserves better.
"Yeah, I'll think about it," Sasuke had grumbled before turning to go.
But instead of doing the sensible thing—spending time with Sakura in the way lovers do when they haven't seen each other for a long time—Sasuke had done something that left Sakura heartbroken. Once again. And now, she wasn't with Sasuke but here, in Kakashi's office, her emotions spilling over like a river breaking through its banks.
What was much more confusing though: Instead of being on Sasuke's, Sakura's lips were on his.
It was not okay, but the warmth of the kiss enveloping him made everything else—his worries about Sasuke, the underground criminal network, the future of the village—fade into the background. She clung to him like he was her lifeline, her body pressing into his, soft and trembling. And Kakashi, for once in his life, had no clue what to do.
So he kissed her back.
The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, pulling him under. And yet, it was a soft, hesitant kiss, testing the boundaries of something unspoken, something that shouldn't happen. Sakura's grip tightened around him, as if drawing strength from him, and Kakashi found himself unable to pull away. It was instinct, a reaction to the raw need and vulnerability in her touch. He wasn't thinking like a mentor, like the Hokage, or even like a friend. For that brief, suspended moment, he was simply Kakashi, lost in the warmth of Sakura's lips, the closeness of her body.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, reality crept back in.
"We need to stop," Kakashi whispered, gently but firmly taking Sakura's face into his hands, tilting it up so she would look at him. Ah. This was hard.
He wasn't averse to being the rebound guy. In fact, he could remember darn good sex with women who needed someone to prove something to themselves. Those encounters had been uncomplicated, fleeting, exactly the kind of thing Kakashi liked. No strings, no deep emotions to sort through, just easy, pleasant moments that faded as quickly as they came. But this? This was different. This was Sakura.
Sakura, who was clearly going through something difficult. Sakura, who was currently drunk and vulnerable. This couldn't happen.
"You don't want me either," she sobbed, her voice thick with despair. "I knew it."
Kakashi's heart clenched at the sound of her words. That was decidedly not true. He wanted her. Far more than he should. It was a dangerous want, one that gnawed at the edges of his sanity every time she was near him. He'd caught himself thinking about her far too often—thinking about her sitting in his bed, half-undressed, her hair falling over her shoulders. He'd spent more than a few lonely nights curled up in his own bed, thinking about what it might feel like to actually hold her, to have her in his arms, to do all the things his mind conjured when it was just him and the silence.
"I will tell you one of my best guarded secrets," Kakashi said softly, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. "One that you need to take to your grave: I want you a lot. But you know just as I do that things between a man and a woman can be very complicated. And whatever this is between us, Sakura, it's one of those things. One of the complicated ones."
As he spoke, his fingers brushed against her hair, which had begun to unravel from the neat style she'd worn for the wedding. She had looked so beautiful today, and now, with her hair slipping free, she was even more so, though for entirely different reasons. Tenderly, he tucked a few loose strands behind her ears, his fingers lingering as they resettled the small white blossoms she'd woven into her hair.
He didn't let his hands wander too far; even the act of touching her hair felt too intimate, too loaded with feelings he knew he couldn't handle. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from taking care of her in this small way, even if he was the one who had to hold them both back.
Here's to the guy who wanted to build another wall around himself, one that wouldn't come crashing down so easily. Really well done, you idiot.
Her green eyes were huge in her face, looking up at him with such a heartbreaking expression that he felt a fierce urge to punish whoever was to blame for it—and he had a pretty good idea who that was.
"He will be back soon," he said instead, trying to soothe her. "I offered him the position as Head of the Konoha Police Force. He cannot refuse that. I will look into rebuilding at least part of the Uchiha compound…"
"I feel sick," Sakura moaned quietly. "Really sick."
It took a heartbeat or two before he understood that she wasn't reacting to what he had said, but that the amount of alcohol she had imbibed was wreaking havoc with her stomach.
Quickly looking around, he found no suitable receptacles—the bins had holes, and important documents often ended up littered in there.
"Keep it in as long as you can," he urged, grabbing her hand and rushing out and up the stairs with her. The retching had already begun. He managed to open the door to his apartment and steer her to the bathroom just in time for the contents of her stomach to come shooting out.
He held her hair back, feeling the weight of her fragility in that moment. Sakura retched and groaned, each convulsion worse than the other. He murmured soft words of encouragement, hoping to provide some comfort amid the storm of nausea.
"It's okay, Sakura," he said gently, his voice low and soothing. "Just let it all out. You'll feel better soon."
After what felt like an eternity, the worst began to subside. She slumped against the wall, her breathing still ragged. Kakashi knelt beside her, brushing her sweat-dampened hair from her forehead, offering her a glass of water.
"I feel horrible," she mumbled, turning her face away. "I'm so embarrassed, don't look at me."
"Okay," he conceded, "but you need to get cleaned up." Unfortunately, vomit had gotten onto her dress and into her hair.
She groaned in misery, hiding her face behind her hands.
"Take a shower," he offered, gesturing toward the luxurious shower behind her. "Here's a fresh towel." He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. "And I'll find something for you to wear."
Sakura glanced up, her green eyes filled with anxiety. "I don't want to impose, Kakashi. I can't just…"
"It's not an imposition," he interrupted, a reassuring smile on his face. "Take your time. I'll put the clothes in front of the door."
As she retreated into the shower, he felt a mix of relief and guilt swirl within him. Why did he feel like he had been saved from something but was damned at the same time? He walked to his bedroom, grabbing a simple t-shirt and a pair of comfortable sweatpants, something that would fit her okay. Yet, as he folded them neatly, his thoughts spiraled back to the kiss—how vulnerable she had been, how much pain she had been carrying, and how easy it had been to get lost in that moment.
He set the clothes down in front of the bathroom door and leaned briefly against the wall, crossing his arms, listening to the sound of the water cascading down. More boundaries had been crossed tonight but there were many more in place. Many. All he had to do was make sure they were kept intact.
"Hey," Sakura called timidly from behind the door, interrupting his thoughts. "Are the clothes there?"
"Yes," he replied, feeling caught standing so near and blushing deeply. "I put them right here."
He stepped back, allowing her the privacy she needed. As he walked towards the kitchen to prepare some soup for her, he thought that she had always been strong, resilient, and brave. Even now, she was probably regaining her composure. They would laugh about this. And a kiss was really nothing much, people kissed all the time. Especially when drunk, then they kissed a lot. They were lucky he wasn't drunk too.
As the water shut off and the sound of her movement resumed, Kakashi took a steadying breath and began to collect the ingredients for a hangover soup. Soon, the smell of the broth simmering on the stove filled the air. It was a good soup. He wanted Sakura to feel better, to forget this night's turmoil, and move on stronger, more determined.
And yet, when he heard her soft footsteps approach, his breath caught. Why was he so nervous? Because I don't trust myself to do the right thing. I should throw her out. Right away. Instead, he turned slowly to face her, his pulse racing as she entered the room.
"Did we… Did we forget the puppy?" she asked, her tone tinged with concern.
"Shoot," Kakashi grimaced at the realization. "I'll go get him. In the meantime, have a seat. How are you feeling?"
Her hair was down, damp, a towel draped across her shoulders. She looked very pale and rather lost in his oversized clothes. "A bit better, I guess," she replied, her uncertainty evident. "Kakashi, listen, I…"
"Not another word," he interrupted her with a hand in the air. He didn't want her to apologize for such a sweet, innocent kiss, "focus on feeling better. I'll get the puppy and be right back."
Before she could protest, he slipped out of the kitchen and made his way down the stairs. Running away, are we? A bit of distance couldn't hurt to clear his head. The puppy was behind the office door, whimpering miserably. As soon as Kakashi opened it, he was met with an unwelcome surprise: the little creature had shat on the carpet and peed against the desk.
"Oh well," Kakashi sighed, he deserved this for forgetting the tiny furball, and went to grab the cleaning utensils from the cupboard.
Once done, he scooped up the animal, "Alright, buddy, time to reconnect with your true love," he murmured, cradling the pup against his chest as he headed back upstairs, feeling marginally more in control of himself.
When he returned to the kitchen, Sakura looked slightly more composed, though still much too pale. Kakashi placed the puppy down in front of her, and the little creature immediately bounded toward her, tail wagging furiously.
"Hey there!" Sakura's expression lit up. She reached down, her fingers gently brushing against its soft fur. "So sorry we left you alone!"
As she played with the puppy, Kakashi returned to the simmering soup, soon ladling some into bowls and setting them on the table with chopsticks and spoons.
"Soup's ready," Kakashi said, setting the bowl in front of her. "It'll fix you right up."
Sakura managed a small smile that made something warm unfurl in his chest. "Wow, this looks amazing again. You should consider opening a restaurant."
He smirked. "Sure. Once that Hokage thing gets old."
Instead of the laugh he was expecting, Sakura's face darkened, her expression falling.
"You're... you're too kind," she mumbled, her voice wavering. "I'm sorry for being such a nuisance."
It wasn't often people called him kind, but he wouldn't argue. Still, watching her eat mechanically, her spirits clearly sinking, bothered him. He let her eat in silence, until she finally pushed the bowl away with a heavy sigh, looking more defeated than before.
"Will you… forgive me?" Sakura's voice was small, her head hanging low. "For being weak... and needy and stupid?"
"Hey," Kakashi cut in, sharper than intended. "Look at me."
Startled, she lifted her gaze, her face going even paler than before.
"I need you to listen carefully," Kakashi continued, his voice stern. "You are not weak. You are not needy, and you are certainly not stupid. You're strong, smart, talented, resourceful, and incredibly capable. You don't need anyone else to tell you that, Sakura. You're the head of Konoha's hospital for a reason—because you're damn good at what you do."
"But nobody likes me," she whispered.
"That's not true," he frowned. "People do like you. I like you. Naruto, Tsunade, everyone at the hospital—they all respect and admire you. You have friends, comrades, a whole village that values you greatly."
"But Sasuke—" she started, her voice trembling.
"Sasuke doesn't define your worth," Kakashi said, sharper than he intended. For more than a decade now, this wonderful woman had pined after the Uchiha. He hated to see her hurt so much, he hated that he couldn't do anything to fix it, and he hated that it made him so angry. "You don't need him to tell you how incredible you are. But he is a smart guy, Sakura—he knows that you are."
Sakura's lips quivered as she stared at him, eyes shimmering with unspoken pain. "Then why is it you and not him saying these words to me? Why do you make me feel good, but he doesn't? Why is it you I want to see, want to kiss... and not him?"
"Sakura," he said, swallowing hard. "I don't think I should answer those questions."
He could have told her she was drunk and confused, mistaking friendship for something deeper. But he knew that would hurt her in her current state, would only crush her fragile self-confidence further. But the truth—that what they shared had evolved into something much more than mere friendship—was equally off-limits.
"Why not?" she whispered again. Her gaze held him captive, searching his face for an answer, for something—anything to lessen her inner turmoil.
"Do I really need to say it?" he asked, his tone low and strained. He felt like he had already said too much, and a part of him hoped she wouldn't remember any of this later.
"Yes," she insisted, her eyes unwavering.
Kakashi took a steadying breath, bracing himself to say what needed to be said while holding back much of the truth. "Sasuke hurt you because he struggles to express his feelings the way you wish he would. He isn't ready to confront them, he's much too wrapped up in his own world of hurt. But that doesn't mean you're any less worthy of love or appreciation. You are."
He noticed her catching her breath and pressed on before she could react. "You're looking for someone to help you reclaim your self-worth. You came to me because… well, we've developed a close bond since you returned. You feel safe confiding in me, and I want you to know that you can. I'm here for you, always."
"Is that really all?" she whispered, her voice thick with hurt. "Have I wasted the best years of my life waiting for someone who 'is not ready' and likely never will be? Is there no way out of this cage?"
"Come now, Sakura," Kakashi adopted a lighter tone. "That is a little dramatic, don't you think? You are what? Twenty-four? If you choose to change, you have your entire life in front of you."
Her lips parted slightly, as if she was on the verge of saying something else, but no words came. Instead, she closed her eyes, and stood up abruptly, startling the puppy at her feet. She wobbled, reaching for the table to steady herself.
Kakashi was at her side in an instant, his hand on her arm. "Careful," he said gently. "Do you need to lie down?"
Her eyes fluttered, the exhaustion evident in the way her body slumped against him. "I can't mold chakra, I've really tried… too much acetaldehyde in my blood," she muttered. Her fingers clung to his shirt, holding on for stability. "So stupid. So, so stupid. And he isn't even worth it."
Kakashi frowned, concern deepening. "Should I take you to the hospital?" He wondered if her condition was more serious than he had initially thought. Alcohol was, after all, a poison—too much could cause real harm.
"No!" Sakura's response was immediate, sharp, and laced with panic. "Imagine if they saw me like this!"
"Alright, alright. No hospital." Gently, he guided her toward the couch, helping her lie down. But she refused to let go of his shirt, her fingers holding on tightly, so he sat beside her. The puppy hopped onto the couch and wedged itself between them, nuzzling Sakura's side.
"I'll leave as soon as I can," she murmured, her voice thick with misery.
"I'll get you an aspirin," Kakashi offered, attempting to rise, but her fingers tightened, pulling him back.
"Please don't go," she whispered. "I need you close right now."
He hesitated only very briefly. "I'm not going anywhere," Kakashi said softly, settling back beside her. "I'm right here."