"If you don't open your eyes right now, I'll bite you," a deep, merciless voice broke through the fog of Kakashi's dream and yanked him into consciousness.
Blinking groggily, he found himself staring directly into Pakkun's wrinkled, very displeased face... and was hit with a wave of bad dog breath when the pug exhaled into his face.
"Pakkun, what the—," Kakashi gagged, scrambling up.
Ah, but he felt unusually relaxed and rested, a warm contentment lingering in his limbs. His dream had been one of sunshine, laughter, and leisure—such a rarity for him it felt strange.
Then, like a kunai to the chest, it all came rushing back.
He turned his head quickly, his heart skipping a beat. But his bed was empty. The sheets on the other side were cool, and his frown deepened as he sat up straighter, raking a hand through his hair. Where was Sakura...?
"Sleeping the sleep of the dead?" Pakkun quipped. "Must have had a hell of a night."
"Not now," Kakashi growled, his jaw tightening. When had she left? And why had she left? Was she upset? Had he done something wrong?
A rush of heat climbed his neck as his mind replayed what they had done, ending with the exact way he'd held her close when they finally drifted off to sleep. Her soft warmth pressed against him, the faint scent of spring flowers filling his senses—he'd let himself bask in it despite his better judgment. Or rather: because he couldn't for the life of him help himself.
"They're all already waiting for you," Pakkun interrupted his spiraling thoughts.
"Waiting for..." Kakashi's mind blanked for a moment before clarity struck.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, throwing off the sheets and scrambling to his feet. The capital! They were supposed to leave for the capital today! A glance at the bedside clock revealed that he was over thirty minutes late already. Yes, he had a reputation for being late, but he usually had a good excuse. Not so this time.
Pakkun wrinkled his nose. "Please, cover yourself. Have some decency."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Kakashi muttered, his tone sour as he yanked on his clothes and darted toward the bathroom to wash and finish dressing. Thankfully, his ingrained habits ensured that a rucksack was packed and ready, containing all the essentials for a swift departure.
"Hokage armband," Pakkun reminded him, eyeing the drawer. "I don't suppose you'll take the hat."
Kakashi snatched the red armband, strapping it on quickly before glancing into the mirror. His hair was a complete disaster—no surprises there. Attempting to fix it was pointless, so he didn't even try.
Pakkun raised an eyebrow. "So… will we pretend it didn't finally happen?"
Kakashi froze mid-step. "It's none of your business," he replied curtly. The damn dogs with their damn noses. Of course Pakkun knew exactly who had been in bed with him and what they had done there.
"Hm, I think it is," Pakkun countered, his frown deepening. "See, I know you."
"Yes, and?" Kakashi asked impatiently, grabbing his shoes.
"I know you never sleep through the night. And I know the tiniest sound usually wakes you. And yet…"
Kakashi exhaled sharply, cutting the pug off. He didn't need the reminder. It was true—his usual hyper-alertness, the decades of conditioning, hadn't stirred him once. It was either a testament to Sakura's skill at sneaking out—or more likely, to just how thoroughly she had disarmed him already.
"She's exactly your type," Pakkun pressed. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Kakashi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He didn't know what he was going to do about it, even though he knew what he should do. "I don't want relationship advice from a dog."
Pakkun snorted in response, unimpressed. "Then stop making it so obvious you need it. I'm only concerned. Get a grip! I do not want to see you spiral into the darkness again because of a woman."
"That was... different," Kakashi replied, but the words felt hollow, lame even. Pakkun was right to draw parallels. And his dogs had a right to be concerned, they had gotten him through his darkest hours after all. He was forever in their debt.
Thinking back, he sometimes didn't know how he had made it out alive.
His heart had been bruised and battered so thoroughly, for so long, that he'd locked it away behind heavy chains. It had started with the death of his father—a wound so deep it had reshaped his very soul. And just when the scar tissue had begun to form, his heart had been dragged out again. Dragged out, exposed, and chopped into pieces deliberately by the cold, unyielding hands of those who thought they could mold him into the perfect soldier. One with no conscience. No weakness. No emotions.
They had tried to turn him into something unbreakable by stripping him of everything that made him human. And how was that done? By teaching him—over and over—how deeply feelings could wound. By showing him, in brutal clarity, that trust, love, and even friendship were fleeting luxuries in a world so merciless, so unyieldingly cold, it refused to nurture such fragile things. They had proven to him time and time again that everyone, no matter how close, would betray him if the stakes were high enough.
To love was to be vulnerable. And the vulnerable always failed.
It wasn't enough to harden his exterior; they had to ensure he believed it. They carved the lessons into him with every loss, every betrayal, every shred of connection torn from his grasp. The pain didn't just live in his mind; it settled in his bones. It had become second nature to close off, to push people away, to bury every tender feeling beneath layers of steel.
"You're right, perhaps this is different," Pakkun interrupted his darkening thoughts. "Because you're different. You're not the boy they tried to break. You've put yourself back together, piece by piece. But it's all very brittle. So… just be careful."
Kakashi paused, his hand on the door handle. Perhaps the dog was right—things were different. The world was not the same.
But… Kakashi sighed deeply. He doubted that he would ever be different. He would create distance—he had to. But he swore he would do it carefully, without cruelty and with her best interest in mind. Sakura was kindness personified, someone who gave selflessly, who endured quietly, who carried burdens far too heavy for someone so young. She deserved to be shielded from harm, not to be wounded by his inability to deal with his own darkness.
He opened the door, his expression composed. "See you when I'm back," he said to Pakkun. "It's all under control."
It couldn't be all too hard to do the right thing, right?
"Oh good, then we won't have a problem," the pug replied with not a hint of mockery in his voice.
The air was chilly, the kind that nipped at your cheeks even when the sun painted Konoha's rooftops in soft, pink hues. Ahead of her, backs straight, stood the ANBU detail—four operatives, three men and one woman, their animal masks glinting faintly in the morning light. They were statuesque, betraying no impatience despite the Hokage's tardiness.
Sakura wasn't so stoic. She wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, shifting her weight for the hundredth time. Being regularly late as a teacher for a group of genin was one thing. Being late as Hokage before an important mission to the capital? Quite another! Didn't Kakashi have anyone to tell him these things?
Her lips pressed into a thin line, not sure what to do with her mounting annoyance. And nervousness. Facing him quickly after their night together was crucial. She had to prove to herself that she could without making a total fool of herself.
She had left him hours ago, her departure as silent as a shadow. Normally, the slightest movement or sound would bring him to alertness, but he had slept on, his face soft and utterly relaxed in a way that made her heart turn to goo. Ah, but she was being stupid again: It was ridiculous to think of him as letting himself be vulnerable because he trusted her. He was probably just exhausted.
It had been incredible though. His hands, his voice, the way he'd unraveled her in ways she hadn't thought possible—all of it still lingered on her skin, in her mind, thrumming through her veins like a second pulse.
He'd called her "perfect".
Her cheeks flushed despite the cold, and she clenched her fists beneath the folds of her cloak. Was she already addicted to him—the rasp of his voice, the heat of his touch, the way he had whispered her name like it was sacred?
She would not be a fool again though.
For all her faults, Sakura knew herself very well. Her heart, too easily cracked open, would pour itself out, with no way to put the contents back safely. It had happened before, and it had burned and scarred her. This time, she was determined to be different. She would take what Kakashi was willing to offer—but keep her heart out of it. Compartmentalize. Separate. That was the adult thing to do, wasn't it? She could be pragmatic. Logical.
What helped her resolve was the knowledge that Kakashi wouldn't allow things to get too emotional either. If she let any feelings show, he would bolt. Tsunade had warned her and she was taking this very seriously, because… Sakura's jaw tightened, determination flaring in her chest. She could keep her emotions in check. She could. For sure.
… Right?
Kakashi's chipper voice sliced through the chilly morning air. "Sorry I'm late."
Sakura flinched before forcing her expression into something neutral, despite her heart slamming in her chest. She turned slowly, her cloak shifting around her. And there he was, looking as unruffled as ever, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder. His gaze swept over the group, lingering not a moment longer on her than the others (it shouldn't have hurt, but it did): the four masked ANBU operatives standing motionless, Sai, behind her, who had come to see them off, and—
"Genma?" Kakashi's voice signalled his disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Genma inclined his head in a polite bow. "Hokage-sama. I'm here to accompany you to the capital."
"Says who?" Kakashi's steps quickened, his brow furrowing deeply.
Sakura moved into his path before he could loom too close. "I signed off on it. He's not fit for combat, but he can still serve as your advisor."
"I had nothing to do with it," Sai informed Kakashi. Sakura shot him an angry look, which was met by one of Sai's blank, slightly puzzled expressions. She'd have to explain to him that solidarity among comrades was more important than covering one's sorry ass.
"Shikamaru is away," Genma added quickly.
"I happen to know that since it was me who sent him on his mission. And I ordered you to rest," Kakashi bit out, his voice taking on the rare authoritative edge he used when he was truly annoyed. The air turned even chillier.
Genma crossed his arms, the picture of defiance, if only he hadn't trembled slightly. "I am rested. Am I not, Doctor?" He threw a pleading look at Sakura.
"Yes," Sakura answered with a curt nod, though her gaze darted to Kakashi's further deepening scowl. He was more displeased than she had anticipated.
"Kakashi," Genma protested, his tone sliding into exasperation, "you can't seriously force me to stay idle any longer! It's not good for me! This is the capital—nothing ever happens there! Besides, there's no one else to send."
"That's a terrible excuse!" Kakashi shot back. "The fact that you're volunteering doesn't make it a good idea."
"It's the perfect idea!" Genma retorted, his jaw hard. "Do you want an advisor who knows what they're doing or not?"
"You are not my only option!" Kakashi snapped. "The fact that I'm even debating this with you—"
"Kakashi, a word?" Sakura cut in, her voice firm but measured. She gestured him to the side, her gaze not leaving his face.
Kakashi hesitated, glancing briefly at Genma before complying, his displeasure evident in the stiff set of his shoulders.
"Before you start scolding me, I'll explain why I meddled," Sakura began quickly, hoping to preempt the tirade she could sense building.
"I'm listening," Kakashi replied, his arms folded across his chest, his tone sharp and unyielding.
"You might not take the attempts to poison you seriously, but I do," she said, cutting straight to the point. "We haven't had a chance to talk…"
His brow arched higher, a sardonic gleam lighting in his eyes.
"Not about that," Sakura snapped, a flush rising to her cheeks before she forced herself back on track. "...About this. The poison. Somebody managed to tamper with your food pill supplies—poisoned them, without anyone noticing. I haven't had the time to investigate properly, but it's clear the dosage has been increased. This isn't a joke."
Kakashi regarded her in silence, his expression unreadable.
Did he really not care? Frustration sparked in her chest. "We need Genma with us as an additional pair of eyes and ears," she pressed. "I know the poison, I can remove it if I notice the symptoms. But someone as sharp as Genma might notice things we can't. He really is the best option available."
Still, Kakashi said nothing, his gaze steady but inscrutable.
Her frustration boiled over. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"
"Stubborn?" Kakashi echoed, his voice laden with incredulity. "So now I'm stubborn."
"It's for your own good!" she urged, gesturing toward the group. "Yamato isn't available, Shikamaru isn't available, Naruto isn't available—Genma is the best choice. Believe me."
Kakashi's gaze hardened. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steely. "Going behind my back and against my explicit wish is never going to be the best choice, Sakura."
Her stomach twisted, guilt creeping in despite herself. But she didn't back down. She met his stare head-on, her voice softening but not yielding. "I'd do it again, if it meant keeping you safe."
For a moment, neither of them moved. It was the first time she was facing him like this, she realized, and she didn't like it at all. But then, Kakashi sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Fine," he muttered, his tone grudging. "But this conversation isn't over."
He stepped back toward the group, shoulders stiff, his posture radiating exasperation. She followed in silence, her thoughts swirling in a jumble of guilt, relief, and something harder to define. It felt like a small victory, though it left a sour taste in her mouth.
The others were waiting, watching the two of them with varying levels of interest. Genma bowed his head slightly when Kakashi's gaze snapped to him.
"We're moving out," Kakashi said curtly, his tone brooking no argument. "Form up."
The ANBU operatives adjusted with practiced precision, flanking their Hokage without so much as a whisper of complaint. Genma fell into step as well, glancing sideways at Sakura as she joined the group.
"Didn't think you had it in you to stand up to him like that," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear.
Sakura shot him a look that was half warning, half rueful. "It wasn't exactly fun."
Kakashi didn't so much as glance back, but she caught the way his shoulders tensed at Genma's words. Whether he'd overheard or simply guessed the gist of their exchange, she couldn't be sure. Either way, Sakura knew the truth of it: Kakashi would never make it easy to care for him, but that didn't mean she'd stop trying.
The journey to the capital was uneventful, marked by the rhythmic crunch of sandals on tree branches and the occasional whisper of wind through the trees. Except for one thing: Sakura kept calling for breaks.
Far too many breaks.
It slowed their progress to the point where the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving them still several hours shy of their destination. Kakashi didn't comment, but he wasn't oblivious. Did she think he wouldn't notice these pauses were for Genma, not her?
He could have just slowed the group's overall pace to accommodate Genma's obvious struggle, it would've been the reasonable, considerate thing to do. Instead, he pressed on at his usual brisk tempo, knowing full well the toll it took on the recovering shinobi.
It was petty. Vindictive. Not at all like him.
But Kakashi couldn't help it. He was annoyed.
Annoyed for being slowed down. Annoyed for being right—Genma shouldn't be travelling with them. But mostly, he was annoyed at Sakura. Annoyed that she didn't look at him more than absolutely necessary, her gaze skimming past him like he was part of the scenery. Annoyed at the way Genma looked at her when he thought no one was paying attention, his eyes lingering too long. Annoyed at the low, hushed conversations Sakura and Genma shared during their breaks, their heads bent close together. The way she leaned in slightly when she spoke, her body language warm and open, while he stood at a distance, out of place.
He tried to summon the detached indifference that had always been his safe haven, the mental armor he'd relied on for years. But the longer the journey stretched on, the more elusive that armor became. His annoyance didn't just linger; it grew, until it became a storm of frustration swirling beneath his calm exterior.
Apparently, he was in untested waters.
It wasn't hard to understand why. It was Sakura. Or rather, it was him—his inability to look at her without remembering the warmth of her body, the way she'd made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years. Every glance at her now came with a surge of unwelcome longing, a visceral urge to close the distance and claim a kiss he had no right to. So he suffered his own foolishness and lack of control, fumed helplessly at how Sakura looked out for Genma, and tried to collect his wits because he knew he would need them.
The four ANBU operatives traveling with them spoke very little. Their focus was sharp, their movements watchful. And while they kept their distance, Kakashi couldn't help but notice their awe. It wasn't overt, but he saw it in the slight hesitations, the way their attention lingered on him. It was unwelcome, but he'd trained these operatives himself, molding them into the efficient, disciplined team they were today. They trusted each other and they trusted him, which was all that mattered.
Kuma, the young man in the bear mask, his features hidden beneath deep brown and black tones, was the team's muscle. His movements were deliberate and powerful, his strength a steady presence. Taka, in his hawk mask adorned with piercing eyes and silver-and-black feather motifs, exuded sharp, cutting intensity. He was quiet but lethal, every action precise and efficient. Risu, the only woman among them, wore a squirrel mask streaked with playful reddish-brown and cream hues. She was resourceful and adaptable, a quick thinker who always seemed to be one step ahead. And last, there was Hebi, in his snake mask with green-and-silver patterns that coiled like living serpents. Hebi was a master of stealth, slipping in and out of situations with an ease that bordered on uncanny.
The four operatives weren't just guards—they were infiltrators, honed for the delicate and dangerous work of espionage. Peace? Yeah, well. Kakashi had seen too much war to truly believe in it.
Despite Sakura's earlier accusations that he didn't take the threats against himself seriously, Kakashi was acutely aware of the dangers the village faced. He understood the importance of surrounding himself with people he could trust at all times. And as for the capital? It wasn't as harmless as Genma had claimed. The city was a hotbed of ambition and manipulation, a place where alliances were forged and broken with a single whispered word. It was a theater for power plays, where the smallest edge could mean the difference between survival and downfall.
And while Sasuke gathered intelligence in the Land of Earth and Yamato tracked the woman they had released from captivity, Kakashi planned to use his time in the capital to conduct investigations of his own in order to restore law and order to Konoha once and for all.
As they approached the outskirts of the capital under the cover of night, their pace slowed. The open road, flanked by lush forests and sprawling fields, gradually transformed into a labyrinth of narrow streets and rising structures. The capital stretched outward like a spider's web, its alleys twisting and turning into canals and wide avenues that all seemed to lead toward its heart—a massive palace complex, fortified by towering walls and surrounded by meticulously tended gardens.
As they made their way in, Kakashi's senses sharpened, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with practiced precision. The soft hum of distant voices mingled with the faint echo of unseen footsteps, and the swaying lanterns overhead painted shifting shadows across the cobblestones. And there, beneath the surface of ordinary sounds, he felt something else—a faint but undeniable presence brushing against the edges of his awareness, elusive and unnerving. His eyes flicked from the rooftops to the darkened alleys, his wariness growing with every step.
He wasn't the only one. The subtle shift in his team's movements told him they felt it too. It was probably just the Daimyo's security dispositif. But one couldn't be too cautious. The loose formation tightened on his signal. Kuma moved to their right flank. Taka and Hebi fell back to cover the rear, their masked gazes darting from shadow to shadow. Risu lingered near Sakura, her sharp eyes scanning the rooftops and hidden corners with unwavering focus.
"We go straight to the guest house," Kakashi instructed. "We stay put until everything has been checked and secured in the morning."
His team nodded in unison, though Genma lingered behind, his expression tight. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.
"Kakashi, a word?"
Kakashi's gaze flicked toward him, taking in the pallor on Genma's face and the faint lines of discomfort etched around his mouth. "Yes," he said, stepping aside with him. "You want to go back?"
"No!" Genma's response was immediate, his tone sharp with offense. "I'll be alright. I just…" He hesitated, his eyes darting toward Sakura, who was chatting quietly with Risu near the front of the group. Lowering his voice, he continued, "It's Sakura's birthday tomorrow, and I—"
"I know that," Kakashi interrupted flatly.
Genma blinked, thrown off course, before pressing on, his tone turning almost conspiratorial. "I thought we could surprise her with drinks or something at midnight?"
"No."
The single word dropped like a stone, carrying such finality that Genma froze, visibly taken aback. He stared at Kakashi, his sullen expression deepening into a scowl. "What's your problem? You're acting like an ass."
"Am I?" Kakashi's tone remained smooth, pleasant even, but there was no mistaking the underlying edge. "I was under the impression that I was being professional. We're not here for leisure."
Genma's patience visibly frayed. Straightening his posture, he let his voice rise just enough to hint at a challenge. "That's bullshit. We always celebrated birthdays, even during the war! You know what, I think you're jealous. But don't take it out on her!"
Kakashi's anger surged but he managed to keep his tone even. "Jealous," he echoed, even producing a faint note of incredulity.
"I'm not in your league," Genma pressed, undeterred. "No need to feel threatened. But I swear, if you hurt her—"
Kakashi took a deliberate step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, quiet but cold enough to freeze the air between them. "One more indication that you cannot separate private matters from a mission," he said, his tone deadly calm, "and you're out."
For a long, tense moment, the two men locked eyes, the unspoken challenge hanging thick between them. Finally, Genma broke away with a frustrated huff, muttering something under his breath as he turned and strode back toward the group.
Kakashi watched him go, shoving his hands into his pockets. He let out a slow breath, but the tension in his chest didn't ease. His eyes drifted toward Sakura. She was smiling faintly at something Risu had said, the soft curve of her lips bathed in the gentle glow of a nearby lantern. The sight brought no relief, only the tightening of the unsettling knot of emotions churning in his stomach.
Emotions he didn't want. Emotions he couldn't allow. Emotions he couldn't seem to control.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, the word a quiet curse against himself more than anything else.
With a sharp shake of his head, he hurried after the group who had slowed down to wait for him.