#but Kakashi gets special treatment because it's his point of view

[silverstarlightwrites]

weird au premise

it’s knocking about in my brain and it’s a clumsy son of a bitch

It’s quiet, when they wake. Quiet and dark and stuffy, the air dry and stale. He’s not the first one to speak, but he thinks he’s the first to adjust to the lack of light, sitting up and taking in his surroundings. There’s something surprisingly soft under his fingers, a blanket that’s been tucked in over his legs - though let loose across his torso, allowing him to move freely. He seems to be in some kind of... cubby? The nook is small, only barely bigger than he is, and sunk into what must be a wall. To his left there’s a thin screen; he can’t see it in the gloom, but when he reaches out his hand sinks against it, straining but not breaking under his strength.

The claustrophobia sinks in a little, kitten teeth in his nape, as Kakashi realises that he’s trapped.

“H-hello?” calls a voice, feminine and shaking and afraid. She’s somewhere above Kakashi, he thinks, if the barrier keeping him in the nook den, something whispers in his mind-- If it’s not messing with sound too badly, then she’s probably at least two more dens’ worth of distance above him.

“Hello?” calls back another voice in the dark, putting up a better front of bravery but no less shaky than the first. “Who’s that?”

After that it takes several minutes of agonising noise for the voices to die down. Kakashi tries to count them, tries to give his mind something to focus on and quantify through the flood of sound. By the time someone else take command, Kakashi has counted at least sixteen other people; there could be more blended into the cacophony, too similar to another, but he’s at least certain of that many distinct timbres.

“Everybody, be quiet!”

Loud and authoritative, and familiar in a way many of the others aren’t, and miraculously, everybody listens. The frantic voices go quiet, like a wave in reverse, and then the familiar one speaks again, and--

Oh.

Kakashi sucks in a harsh breath. “Minato-sensei?!” he ventures, as loud as he dares. Hope is a choking cloud in his own chest. Why does Sensei’s voice make him feel like he’s about to die?

“Kakashi!” comes the response, and Kakashi can’t even get a reply through his teeth, the way it makes him shake and gasp. “Okay, good.” It’s Minato-sensei, it’s really him, and whatever it is is that makes Kakashi’s vision flicker with something red and snarling when he hears Minato’s voice, he has no interest in--

Red chakra and tails and blood. Mayhem as Kakashi stood passive with his peers, locked off behind a barrier meant to protect them - and meant to cage them. So that they can’t help - so that if Minato fails, if everyone else fails, Konoha will have strength still to rely on.

What?

But that doesn’t make any sense. He’s-- Gods, he’s right here like always. Mask on, his body intact from the brief inspection he’s done. Except he remembers all of that, remembers the years in between and ever since. He remembers the funeral. He remembers his kids. He remembers...

Gods, maybe he doesn’t. It’s all... fuzzy. Strange and echoey around the edges, like a dream. It can’t be real, because Minato-sensei is here, and he’s not an adult, not scarred down the left side of his face, so how could--

“Kakashi-sensei?” The voice is small, but sure of itself, and bright green eyes flash in Kakashi’s mind, the lively excitement of a girl who doesn’t yet know what she’s gotten herself into.

She knows, now. “Sakura?” he calls back, the name bursting from his throat from somewhere deep in the dream-memories he can’t figure out how to parse, and that can’t be right, but--

But she replies. “Sensei! Where are we?”

“Hey, hey, easy,” interrupts Minato-sensei, and it finally dawns on Kakashi that there’s something wrong with his voice. Not as smooth or deep as Kakashi’s used to - an unfamiliar strain that crawls down Kakashi’s back with needled claws. “We need to know who’s here and how many of us there are.” And a murmuring goes through the-- however many of them are here. Some meet the proclamation with terse and uneasy silence, but others quietly agree. If Kakashi is generous with his own abilities, it sounds like the older ones agree.

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

So the collective begins to sound off, one at a time. Sensei begins.

“Namikaze Minato.”

“Hatake Kakashi.”

“Sarutobi Hiruzen.” Oh. Thankfully nobody is disputing Minato’s claim to authority yet, but... suddenly, Kakashi wonders what they’re going to do if the Hokages disagree.

Aren’t they dead? Aren’t they both supposed to be dead?

“Tsunade.”

“Uchiha Fugaku.”

“Uchiha Itachi.”

“Uchiha Sasuke.”

This is wrong. It’s wrong. They’re all supposed to be dead. It’s all blood and chaos and grief, and everyone is supposed to be dead.

“Uzumaki Kushina.”

“U--! Uzumaki Naruto!!”

“Hyuuga Hiashi.”

“Hyuuga Hizashi.”

“H... Hyuuga Neji...”

“Hyuuga Hinata.”

“Hatake Sakumo.”

Kakashi can’t help the noise that breaks out of him, or the way he throws himself against the barrier caging him in. It doesn’t give, holding fast no matter how far he pushes against it, and every moment feels like he might just be about to get through it but the freedom never comes. Nobody else says anything, just as nobody’s said anything about all the others.

Maybe they’re all dead, in the end. It’s far more likely, isn’t it? Than everybody who’s ever mattered suddenly being alive again?

“Uchiha Obito.”

“Jiraiya.”

“Orochimaru.” He speaks quietly, too high-pitched, lacking the arrogance Kakashi associates with him. A hiss of dislike floods the room-- the... cavern. Place. Whatever this is.

“H-Haruno Sakura.”

“Nohara Rin.”

Oh gods. She speaks so softly. Kakashi can’t tell which aches more; his hands or his chest.

“Yakushi Kabuto.”

“Yuhi Kurenai.”

“Sarutobi Asuma.”

“Maito Gai.” There’s a flutter that flares out under Kakashi’s skin, his whole body, and it feels unfathomably like relief.

“Y-Yamanaki Ino.”

“Yamanaka Inoichi.”

“Nara Shikaku.”

“Nara Shikamaru.”

“Ak-kimichi Choji...”

A flash of silence. Is... Is Choza not here?

“... Aburame Shino.”

“Abur-rame Ayaki.”

“Kuromizu Keisuke.”

“Kuromizu Kaoru.”

“Kuromizu Kyoki.”

“Uchiha Mikoto.”

“Uchiha Shisui.”

There’s a noise from somewhere in the darkness, and Kakashi recognises Itachi’s voice within it. Nobody acknowledges it.

“Senju Hashirama.”

“T... Tenzo.”

“Inuzuka Tsume.”

“Inuzuka Hana.”

“Uhm... S-Sarutobi Konoha-hamaru.” Oh gods. He sounds young. Even younger than the rest-- And that’s what’s wrong with everyone’s voice, Kakashi realises, eyes widening. Everyone sounds like a child.

“Umino Iruka.”

“Tsubaki Raiden.” Kakashi’s chest lurched.

“Tsubaki Nioko.”

“Akiyama Kaida.” Again.

“Sarutobi Nami.”

“Shiranui Genma.” And again.

“Hyuuga H-Heideki.”

“Iseya Kaede.”

And then, finally, there’s silence. Too much of it, like he’s drowning in it, except Kakashi is counting the times his heart slams against his ribcage, and the number is far too low for the silence to last as long as it feels like it does. It takes everything he has not to shout out - his father is here, Rin, Obito. Itachi. Oh gods, Sasuke. Sakumo.

It’s not fair. Whatever this is, whatever hell or nightmare or sick twisted lie, it’s not fair.

“Alright,” Minato says, and Kakashi can feel everyone listening. “Is everyone in a-- den?” So... he feels that nag too, the little itch that insists that these alcoves - these cells - are called ‘dens’. There’s a round of affirmations, and Kakashi doesn’t add his own but he offers no dissent, and that’s good enough for the crowd of shinobi trapped on all sides.

Someone breaks. Thank gods, any and all that are listening, that it’s not Kakashi.

“What the hell is this?!” It sounds... Kakashi isn’t certain who it is, if he’s honest. They sound like a child. But one hand on his own chest betrays the thinness of it, that he’s also somehow a child. “You’re-- Half of you are dead! This isn’t real...” Kakashi thinks it might be one of the younger children. One of the Aburames, maybe? “This can’t be real.”

Laughter cuts any reply that Minato (or any of the others) might have given. It’s cold and cruel and disappointed. “It’s only too real. Now stop your snivelling; you’re Konoha shinobi. Act like it.”

And this voice, too, Kakashi recognises, but it’s... He can’t quite put a name to it. The memories (dreams?) are like slurry on the inside of his skull, and it’s getting harder and harder to grasp them. It sounds... older. An adult.

“No need to worry, Konoha-nin. You’re here because you’ve failed, but I’m merciful. You’ll have the chance to try again.”

The darkness hasn’t lightened even slightly in all this time, a night so absolute that Kakashi’s eyes can’t adjust to it even if he brightens them with chakra. Subtly, almost blinding even with how slowly it grows, a dim orange light comes on above Kakashi’s head. It pulsates slightly, like a heartbeat, as if the light is a living thing. He hears the ripple of noise that goes through the assembled shinobi, and he can only assume that they’re all getting lights of their own, because he can’t see anything beyond the stretchy barrier.

It’s... a membrane, now that he gets a look at it. Somewhere between black and fleshy pink, and it’s completely opaque but he can still see the blood vessels where they weave through it. Acid rises in his throat.

The den is warm, and Kakashi notes with desperate relief that the rest of the walls don’t seem so alive. They feel like smooth rock, and now he can see them they’re a mottled white-grey that reminds him of marble. Above his head, the orange light itself, is a shallow depression, lined with delicate fur. Kakashi looks into the light, and the light looks back.

Oh gods. It’s an eye.

“Quiet,” snarls the adult voice as a faint stirring of horror sweeps once more through the shinobi. The ‘blanket’ that Kakashi is tucked into-- It’s fur, the soft warmth, and it could almost be welcome if it didn’t run so smoothly into the walls of the den. He’s half-tucked in, still, but it’s not a blanket. It’s a pouch. “Don’t bother with your memories,” he continues, sounding almost amicable again. “You won’t be here too long. You didn’t remember the last time either. And please, for your own sakes, don’t fight it. You’ll note several... notable absences in your roster.”

There’s a soft noise, a whisper on all sides, and Kakashi smells something overpoweringly sweet.

“Please do better, this time. The mess you’ve made of this attempt...” He tuts, and his voice starts to become distant. The sweet smell is too much, saturating everything, and Kakashi claws down his mask as he gags. Nothing comes up, but the ache is sharp and he struggles to remind himself that he can breathe just fine. What...? Oh gods. He can hear the gasps and choked sounds from the others, too. “And for gods’ sake, try not to kill each other. We do actually need the Uchiha clan, and all the others. If any of you manage to remember anything, just remember not to do that.”

The walls are melting. Aren’t they...? No, they’re... they’re leaking. The sweet smell is coming from the viscous fluid oozing from the walls, and they’re not marble, oh gods they’re not marble, but Kakashi can’t rightly guess what they are. Cries of fear go up around him, even as he sucks in a breath riddled with saccharine scents and tastes honey.

Someone calls out his name. Is it Minato-sensei? Is it his father? Gods forbid-- is it one of his own kids? His genin must be terrified.

“Alright, hush now. It hurts less if you stop fighting. I’ll probably see you again next time, Konoha. Toodle-loo!”

The eye-light blinks, and the oozing turns to a cascade. No longer slowly, but all at once, the dens fill entirely and it doesn’t feel as much like drowning as Kakashi expects it to. He can’t breathe, not exactly, but he doesn’t feel like he’s asphyxiating, either. He doesn’t feel like he’s dying.

He reaches up, every sound muted and wrong through the sugary ooze filling his ears - and his nose and mouth and lungs and everywhere - and the eye-light winces when he touches the fur encircling it. Meets his gaze.

There’s a flash - not light, nothing so tangible, but it feels like connection, like a rope being knotted around his soul - and then the eye-light closes and everything goes, once more, completely dark.

[ladykissingfish]

the Akatsuki's reactions to it being their birthday

Deidara: Although it wouldn’t seem like it, Deidara has a profound fear of aging. He lives his life through his vision of what true art is, and to him, that means things that don’t have longevity. In short, getting old isn’t artistic. He prefers to pretend his birthday is just another day, and if anyone (except for Konan, because she’s the only Akatsuki member he doesn’t find ‘annoying’) is stupid enough to bring it up to him, he’ll hurl a bomb at that person with no hesitation.

Kisame: Kisame is genuinely unsure as to when his actual birthday is, although he vaguely believes it’s sometime in the spring. It’s not really important to him either way; half-humans don’t view aging the same as full-humans. If he DID know the day, he’d likely spend it going for a dip in the ocean, something that he hasn’t done in a long time. Sasori: Birthday? Aging? What does that even mean? Sasori has been 15 years old for 20 years now, and that situation isn’t changing anytime soon. He’ll patiently suffer through Happy Birthday wishes from others, but to him, the concept has no significance. Itachi: Birthdays = pain. If not out on a mission, Itachi will spend the entire day in his room, in the dark, remembering the birthdays of his other life. His mother making his favorite cabbage. His father cracking one of his rare smiles as he presents his oldest son with a new, hand-crafted kunai. Sasuke’s face smeared with the dumplings he bought for his nii-san that he had to try one of ‘to make sure they weren’t poisoned’. Itachi is young but he commands respect from his Akatsuki peers, and they honor his wishes to be left alone on this day. Tobi/Obito: As Tobi, he lets everybody know it’s his birthday. He runs around all day practically overdosing on sweets and revelling in the attention he gets (it’s the one day of the year the rest of the Akatsuki, EVEN DEIDARA, attempts to be nice to him). But as Obito — he’s having a complete existential crisis. How did he get here? How did he go from the sweet, well-meaning young boy from Konaha to this? This ... this monster, this empty shell? Is any of this even worth it anymore? Even if infinite tsukuyomi is successfully launched, in his heart he knows that none of it matters. Illusions and dreams are not reality. Rin will stay dead, and even if she wasn’t, she would never have loved him anyway. If things had gone another way perhaps he could have been Hokage by now, and he would receive visits from Rin, Kakashi and their children. But maybe it’s not too late. Maybe he can somehow form an alliance with Itachi, and together they can take down Madara and end this brutal lifestyle. The two can return to the Leaf, they can find mates, they can initiate the revival of their clan. Maybe — but then somebody offers Tobi some candy and Obito has to shelve his breakdown and do something appropriately childish.

Kakuzu: When you have as many birthdays as Kakuzu has had, eventually they stop having meaning. He’s alive and breathing, that’s all that matters to him. He doesn’t see any reason to do anything special, but if he’s in a good mood (and it doesn’t cost him much) he MIGHT treat himself to a high-end meal of monkfish liver and sake. Zetsu: Doesn’t remember it’s his birthday until days after the fact. Doesn’t really celebrate but might treat himself to a few fresh corpses as a treat. Hidan: The Jashinist sees no point in birthdays. Why count one’s age when one is immortal?? He might go out and procure more sacrifices for Lord Jashin as a way to give thanks for his never-ending life, but that’s as far as the ‘celebration’ goes. Pein: Gods do not have birthdays. There is no beginning or end to what is eternal. Konan: Does not want special treatment, but, as the Akatsuki’s only woman, receives it regardless. Every member makes it a point to either give her a small gift, or at the very least, a hug. She tries to act annoyed or embarrassed but really, she’s flattered. Doesn’t know that the reason the others “remembered” her birthday is because Nagato (as Pein) holds a

secret meeting on the subject about a week beforehand. Nagato may be a “God” but he wouldn’t even be alive if it hadn’t been for Konan’s strength and kindness back when they were kids, and it’s something he intends to repay in any way he can. But truthfully even if Pein hadn’t reminded everyone, if they had found out on their own, their treatment of Konan wouldn’t have been any different. Although murderous and dysfunctional they are a family, and Konan garners the respect of being the family’s matriarch.

[lavendersmiles]

The One Who Waits

SasuSaku Month 2018

Day 14: Wait for Me

***

Author’s Note: I just wrote the jumbled plot bunnies in my mind... and yeah still behind with the prompts... 😖

FFnet link

***

"Sakura… arigatou."

The silence that followed was filled with unspoken feelings. For a little while longer, you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth she radiates. You don't know if you could ever feel that ever again.

Hitting a pressure point on her neck, she started to lose a grip on reality. And as she started to become unsteady and ultimately fall, you used your own body to catch her from hitting the ground. The tears that flowed from her closed eyes glistened in the moonlight. For a few more moments, it was just you and her and the falling leaves.

You carried her carefully to the stone bench. It's the least you could do, after she opened her heart for you, and only you. Despite your genius status, you still couldn't fathom how she just knew you were leaving the village. You never told anyone of your plans, yet she still found you. Instinct? A sense of foreboding?

You will never know now.

Gazing at her sleeping form, you reached out to gold her hand, one that was starting to get colder due to the night's temperature. Suddenly the thought of the possibility of coming home after seeking revenge came flooding in your mind.

"Would you still care?" you mouthed softly, fully aware that she won't be able to answer.

Yet something in your heart hoped that somehow she will. Though not a minute longer, you shove the thought away, thinking it will only serve as a distraction for you. He might use Sakura against you, because despite everything else, she remains to be one of your most precious people. In a twisted way, you're protecting her and she will just have to live not aware of that fact.

Before you could think about it, you pressed your lips against hers like a fleeting touch. You'll forget about this moment of weakness and she will never know. Stepping back, you turned towards the village gates again, delayed but still determined.

Maybe she'll wait for you… maybe she won't… only the years can tell which one will happen.

.

.

The shinobi war unlike any other finally came to an end after the Infinite Tsukuyomi was released. After your treatment and a long arduous trial, you were declared pardoned of your crimes. Being able to perceive everything in a new light, you wanted to see the world and along the way, redeem yourself of all the wrongdoings you've done. It was a self-imposed mission that you needed, something no one can stop – not even Sakura.

She and the sixth hokage came with you to the village gates. Kakashi, like the father figure that he is to all of you in Team Seven, left with reminders that he hopes you will take to heart. When Sakura asked you to stay a little while longer, it felt like déjà vu.

This time, you explained it carefully to her, hoping she'll understand. For a moment, you were tempted to accept her offer of coming with you, but you managed to catch yourself and turned her down. Maybe someday, but not now. She is still needed in Konoha, and you won't be selfish anymore.

Her mood immediately darkened and the sight felt like a punch to your gut. Hoping to appease her, and wanting to at least leave her with something, a thought passed your mind.

Lifting two fingers, you poked her forehead right on her seal, proclaiming – silently vowing – to see her soon. And as another heartfelt 'thank you' left your lips, a blush formed on her cheeks which you responded with a small yet genuine smile of your own. In that moment, you wished she would somehow understand.

And as always, she did.

.

.

You sent a note to Kakashi that you'll be coming back home for a while. You don't know what to expect, but a soft voice in your head ignored for so long whispered, expecting that the certain kunoichi mentioned by Naruto in his letters who is spring personified would be there.

As you stepped closer to Konoha, a feeling of dread started to slow you down. You still don't know you if you even deserve this chance of having a future so different from before; and though you try to deny it, there is a little fear in your heart. Fear that maybe you can never truly belong anymore.

Fear that she already got tired of waiting for you to come and moved on.

But Sakura always had a special ability to see the good in even the worst, and you hold on to that belief. The promise she held in her eyes when you left was your source of hope in your travels, after all. Maybe, despite the time that passed, she will be there to be with you.

The village gates came into view and with it were three figures waiting for you. It caused you to momentarily stop, a surge of feelings you couldn't name one by one washing over you. Pink hair swayed with the wind as she opened her arms to welcome you back.

You felt like time slowed down that very instant. And then you realized, you weren't actually waiting for her to accept you. She already did, ever since. You were just simply blinded by hate to notice it. A love that you shoved aside in favour of revenge. She was always there, always a constant pillar of support.

You were actually waiting for yourself to be deserving of her love. Until now, you still think that she deserves someone else, someone not haunted by the claws of the past. But unfailingly, never wavering, she chooses you over and over again. Despite everything you've done, she would still constantly pick you among the rest. She gave you another chance and you won't allow anything or anyone – not even your idiotic self – to waste it now. You knew that you are a changed man, still a work in progress, but hopefully good enough to be able to stand beside her.

This time, you promised to yourself as you hugged her back, neither you nor her would be waiting in uncertainty ever again.