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fictionfeast · 4 years ago

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Naruto will always have a target on his back.

Sasuke has a vague concept of hypothermia, but nothing past that. He knows when someone’s lips are more purple and blue than a bruise, but their body is no longer shaking, it’s a bad sign. He presses two fingers against the pulse in Naruto’s throat, moving around until he can finally feel the dull lob of a pulse.

There's a chance his pulse will slow down in a few minutes now that Naruto isn’t being drained for everything he’s worth, but that won’t help the lifeless state of Naruto’s skin, deadly pale.

Naruto’s heart is close to giving out.

He doesn’t have medic chakra. In a recent impassioned fit with Sakura, over Naruto’s kidnapping and Sasuke’s inability to keep a cool head, she snapped how this wasn’t nearly her first time. She seethed about the Akatsuki, about Pain, about the time she held Naruto’s heart in her hand and pumped it with her bare, bloody fingers to keep him alive, and how Sasuke wasn’t there for any of it.

The only time Sasuke had shoved his hand through Naruto’s chest—

He could try to use a low level chidori to restart Naruto’s heart as a last resort. Chidori isn’t designed to save the life it’s piercing.

The ceiling crumbles, iced rocks are tumbling and shattering in the underground cavern in the rural part of the Land of Snow, where Naruto has been held for weeks now. Sasuke has to move fast. He has to do something to help stabilize Naruto before moving him or else he’s going to die and electrocuting his heart is not a promising last resort.

“Naruto,” he calls to him. There’s an urgency in his voice, despite trying to keep ii calm. “Look at me. Naruto.”

Naruto doesn’t open his eyes.

Sasuke grits his teeth. He’s never tried Sharingan on an unconscious person and everything he knows about his eyes has been through practice. There were never scripts or scrolls on Sharingan, but words passed down from generation to generation — fathers who brought their sons to battlefields to cause enough distress to awaken their eyes under the belief it was the only way, older brothers who tell their little brothers they have to kill their best friend, buzzwords like godly and cursed.

It’s never been an issue before now. It’s never been an issue not to know how the Sharingan actually works and what limits it may or may not possess when it has always been plenty strong enough unchecked on the battlefield. Sasuke intimately knows that it can overpower, yet knows nothing of its ability for how it can save a life.

He gently pulls Naruto’s eyelids open. Only the whites and veins show; his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Sasuke wipes his hands on his pants to get off the grime and blood coating his fingertips, pulling one eyelid open, and carefully, uses his other set of fingers to roll one of Naruto’s eyes forward.

The connection between them clicks in an instant. He would be surprised any other time — that Sharingan can work on the unconscious.

Fear would work, Sasuke thinks, to force Naruto’s heart rate up, but it might be too forceful. It might just kill what’s left of his heart’s effort and give out. Fear is just the only emotion Sasuke has ever pulled forward from another person. It’s all he’s practiced, and therefore, it’s all he’s ever known. Fear it’s just opening the gateway, and the individual will fill it with images, sounds, feelings of fear throughout their life. When Itachi had used it on him, Sasuke had seen Itachi gouging out his eyeballs. When Sasuke used it on Danzo, Danzo saw Itachi.

He has to hope it’s the same for other emotions too.

Something quieter, something softer, but still makes the heart flutter.

Anticipation.

It comes without needing to dig for it.

Sasuke breathes out, holding onto that feeling, chasing it down inside of Naruto like a fox down a rabbithole. Maybe this is why there are no scripts or scrolls on Sharingan when it’s so deeply connected to the psyche. To feelings. To thoughts. To pieces of humanity more abstract than the chemicals in a brain.

Fear inside of people is different. He doesn’t need to chase it. It’s like dark water right at the edge, all it takes is a little weight for it to spill.

It takes him a second to catch it, but when he does—

It’s him.

Sasuke almost reroutes, he must have gone down the wrong path, and he doesn’t have the time to make a mistake—

It’s him again.

Sasuke.

Sasuke laying in the grass beside Naruto and Sasuke remembers this. After a few rounds of sparring, they were taking a break, and Sasuke had sat down and leaned back to watch Naruto look over the edge of the mountain ledge. He remembers watching Naruto close his eyes, watching as the strong winds ran through his hair and through his clothes, like it belonged to him and he belonged to it, and when Naruto had opened his eyes and noticed Sasuke staring—

Naruto’s heart flutters.

In his chest, it picks up pace. Sasuke hesitates at the direction this is going, at what bubbles so quickly and prominently to the surface. Things that Sasuke isn’t supposed to see, but Naruto can’t afford Sasuke to hesitate. His life depends on it.

So Sasuke doesn’t.

The way his hands move and Naruto watches without Sasuke having ever realized, every smile, few and far in between they are, Naruto holds them close, and Sasuke can feel that too, as well as he can feel his heart rate jump at the unfolding memories; the times they’ve pinned each other down, Sasuke playfully taunting him, Sasuke touching him—

No. This isn’t a memory, not entirely, it’s a memory of a fantasy, and Naruto’s heartbeat remembers it—

All it takes is for the thrum of Naruto’s heart to feel a little stronger than before, before Sasuke opens a portal and pulls them both inside.

It took Sasuke several attempts to figure out how Obito used these dimensions so effectively to essentially teleport. Obito could open a portal right above someone’s shoulder without being a single inch off. Several attempts that could have ended far worse than it did — ending up in the Mizukage’s headquarters, another time at the bottom of a lake, and another in the secret scroll room of Amegakure — and it hadn’t been until Sasuke forced Naruto and Shikamaru into helping that they learned it had nothing to do with coordinates and how the space in Kaguya’s dimensions correlated with their world. It was a simpler concept, to Sasuke’s demise. He would have done better with coordinates.

You just had to imagine where you wanted to be.

Sasuke’s imagination is a little lackluster, and at the most, existent but never highly specific.

It’s never an issue if he’s conjuring to open a portal somewhere that he’s been before, but that’s because it’s a memory. He can’t use a memory right now. He specifically needs to get Naruto warm, submerged in warmth, and get his body temperature back up, and he can’t go too far, because while the concept of teleportation is simpler one might imagine, it sill has a toll.

The same amount of chakra it would require to travel that distance, except it hits all at once opposed to the days it would take on foot, and then some.

On his already depleted chakra.

Submerged in warmth and all the distance they can without killing him is an idea but it’s not specific. Which is why when Sasuke opens another portal open with Rinnegan, Naruto in his arms, they don’t land somewhere ideal like the nearest hot springs, where no one else would get involved — no one should get involved, these people are dangerous and will be tracking them — but the hot springs are exposed and open, and Sasuke can’ quite help that in his list of mental requirements while opening the portal, Naruto’s safety comes as a priority.

They land in the bathtub of the Kazekage’s brother.

Kankuro’s hand is still on the doorknob, his other hand occupied with a cross stitch, eyes wide with surprise. He is, in fact, bare ass naked.

“Hah?” Kankuro voices. He takes one look at the two figures, before grabbing his pants draped over the sink. He storms out of the bathroom, shinobi instinct kicking in without fault. “We need some medics in here! Hey, you— you punk, get a medic!”

Sasuke maneuvers his hand to wrap around Naruto’s chest, to keep him from slumping into the water. It’s still running. The faucet. The bath is hot and full with the space of two bodies, and Sasuke doesn’t process a goddamn thing except moving far enough back against the back of the tub, giving Naruo as much room as possible to submerge his body in the heat.

It occurs to him there’s likely some type of rewarming shock someone can go into — forced from one extremity to the other — that protocol may require a slower transition once the hypothermia has reached past a certain point. He doesn’t know how plausible it is. He doesn’t know if holding someone’s body in hot water is dangerous at whichever stage of hypothermia Naruto is in, but the alternative has to be worse. Naruto is built for impact—

A little shock won’t kill him.

Sasuke tells himself rather desperately, unaware of how quickly the water turns a bright shade of red, a lucid mixture of Naruto’s blood and his own. He finds Naruto’s pulse again, skin wet and sticky, pressing against his throat. It’s still there, he’s still alive.

#This is unfinished but not sure if I ever will #Sasuke finds out that Naruto is in love with him and Naruto doesn't know he knows #It's also the start of Sasuke Learning with a capital L about Sharingan #And ways it's never been used before #Sasunaru #Narusasu #Sasunarusasu #Sasunaru fic #Narusasu fic #sasunarusasu fic #Naruto

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kusunogatari · 4 years ago

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Four | Circus ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Orochimaru ] [ Verse: Fabulous Freaks ]

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Humans have, for uncounted years, enjoyed making spectacles of things strange, obscure, frightening. To gawk at what is different is to take comfort in one’s normalcy.

But few ever think of what it must mean to be different.

“Over here! Hurry up!”

Panting in panic, a young boy is wrestled forward, the canvas sack over his head barring breath and vision alike. Rough, chafing rope holds his wrists behind his back, a hand dragging him forward by an upper arm.

He has no idea where he is, or why...or who has brought him here. Around him, a cacophony of noises only make him all the more confused, a plethora of conflicting smells burning his nose. Smoke, food, dung, perfume.

...where is he?!

Why?!

Then something changes. A door is heard to open, he struggles up several stairs, and then it closes behind him. Everything cuts off. The noise, the smell...the abrupt change makes him stagger.

“...take it off. Let’s see what we used all this effort on.”

The canvas is whipped from his head, and the boy flinches, stumbling back a step. He’s...in some kind of wagon. Cluttered with photographs, props, and other paraphernalia he can’t begin to recognize. And before him, sitting on an elevated chair with one leg atop a knee, is a person.

He...can’t tell if they’re a man or a woman. Porcelain-pale skin is made all the more striking by dark eye makeup, the person in question looking down at him appraisingly.

Like a steer for slaughter.

“Ooh...he really is ugly, isn’t he?” The stranger gives a venomous chuckle. “No wonder he was abandoned. Who could stand to look at a face like that…?”

Taken aback at the sudden cruelty, the boy flinches. He wasn’t abandoned…! His grandmother, the last of his known family, had died a few months ago, leaving him alone. He’d taken to the streets, but...they were cruel to all, let alone someone so...so…

“What is your name, boy? Do you even have one?”

Glowering half-heartedly, he hesitates for a long moment. “O...Obito.”

“Obito...well, welcome to your new home, Obito.” The stranger gestures outward with both outstretched arms. “A humble traveling circus. Fitting for someone like you, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t my home! You kidnapped me!”

“Mm...yes, yes I did. But tell me, boy...what do you have to go back to? Look at you.” Taking up a cane, they prod at his ribs. “Thin as a rail, dirty, sickly...you’ll simply wither away if you stay out in the gutters. Why not stay here, with others displaced like yourself…?”

Obito steps back from their touch, still glaring. He knows this...person has a point. He’s been eating garbage and refuse, avoiding the cruel looks of strangers. Nothing but a miserable, fading existence. But...a circus…? “...w-what do you want with me?”

“To put you on display! To take what makes you odd...and let it turn you into a star. I have many oddities just like you. People who are different. That amaze, frighten, or confuse onlookers. People come from miles around to see our little family of freaks. All you need to do is stand and be gawked at. Do that, and I can guarantee you meals, a cot to sleep in, and a place to call home. More than fair, don’t you think…?”

Obito’s nose wrinkles. “...I already get stared at…”

“But you get none of the perks, do you? Why let yourself wither away, embittered and alone, when you could thrive, knowing that this hideous face is no longer reviled, but revered! It’s so simple, Obito…” The cane lifts, catching his chin and forcing him to meet the gaze of his captor. “...so just say yes. Or...I can dump you back in the gutter. It’s your choice. So make the right one, hm…?”

Chin trembling, Obito tries to logic his way out of this...but in truth, he knows he should agree. He has nothing left. Nothing. Would it really be that bad? To trade his pride for a chance at living? “...f-fine.”

Lips curl into a cruel smile. “Perfect…! Take him to the others, let him...settle in. We’ll introduce him to his new life in the morning.”

The same brute who dragged him takes out a knife, earning a flinch. But he only cuts the rope, letting blood and feeling flow back into the boy’s hands. Wringing them gingerly, Obito realizes he has little else to do but follow.

Now unblinkered, he takes in his surroundings once they leave the wagon. They’re behind the tents and attractions, animals sulking in cages and people milling about. Clowns, acrobats, beast tamers...all looking far less bright and animated than they do when the spotlights are on.

“This way. No lollygaggin’.”

Flinching, Obito follows the man into a tent.

Within, several cots are already strung up and occupied. They all look like adults. “Toward the back is an empty one. Go get some shuteye, you’ve got work to do in the morning.”

Stepping aside and eyeing him warily, Obito does as suggested and heads toward the rear of the tent...which goes dark as the flap falls behind the exiting troupe member.

He freezes, trying to let his eyes adjust.

“Pssst! Over here!”

Startling, he sees a light bloom ahead: dim, but visible. Like a moth to a flame, Obito hurries toward it, stumbling over things on the ground before reaching the very back of the tent.

Atop one of the cots is a person draped with a thin blanket, hiding their visage as it drapes low over their face. A pale, dainty hand holds aloft a candle. “That one there is empty. Just across.”

About-facing, Obito finds the empty hammock behind him before turning back to the other figure. It’s rather small...maybe someone close to his age? The voice is also diminutive, quiet and soft. Obito assumes it belongs to a girl. “W...who are you?”

“...just another one of the freaks,” she replies. “You must be new…”

He hesitates. “...yeah. I’m Obito.”

“...Ryū.” Slightly, her head tilts up, and though the shadows are deep beneath the blanket, the light nonetheless catches a pair of silver eyes. They flicker, and Obito can tell she’s studying his face.

Ashamed, he glances aside, hiding the deformed skin that stretches from brow to chin, ear to nose.

“...you don’t have to hide, you know.”

“...everyone stares…”

“But here, to be weird is to be normal. We all have something different about us. So when you put us all together...it’s really not so weird anymore.” Lifting her free hand, she pulls back the blanket.

Obito stares.

Like some kind of ghost, her entire form is colorless. Snow-pale skin, grey eyes, and every hair he can see completely white. “...they call me Specter when I’m performing. Kinda obvious why, huh?”

“But...you don’t look weird,” Obito protests, forgetting to hide his face. “You’re so pretty!”

She tenses, clearly taken aback before she brings the blanket back over her head. But he still sees the rosy blush in her cheeks. “...I’ve never seen anyone else who looked like me...except my mama. When she died...I got taken here. I’ve been here since I was four.”

“Four…?” He wilts - at thirteen now, it’s quite the difference. “...my gran took me in when I was a baby. My parents died when our house burned...everyone thought I would die from my wounds. But I didn’t. Now I just...look like this.”

Ryū’s gaze lifts. “...they’re scars…?”

“Along my whole side down to my thigh,” he replies bitterly. “Everyone else called me a freak...but Gran loved me all the same. When she...w-when she died, I had nowhere else to go…”

“And that’s when Orochimaru found you.”

“Who?”

“The ringmaster. They take in anyone they think will get more people to come to their circus.” It’s Ryū’s turn to sound bitter. “They tell us we’re a family, but...it’s all a lie. No one is happy here. We’re just ways for them to make money…”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“Where can I go? I’ve been here almost my whole life, I know nothing else. The only talent I have are the dances I had to learn...what use is that to anyone? And none of us get to make any money...we have nothing. It all belongs to the ringmaster. Including us.”

Not having an answer, Obito chews the scar along his lip in thought. “...someday, we’ll leave. When we’re grown! We’ll figure something out, right?”

Her gaze falls. “...someday.”

The pair fall into a somber silence, the wax of the candle starting to wane. But before it dies, Ryū lifts a hand. “...may I…?”

Looking back up, Obito hesitates...but then steps a little closer to her cot.

Gently, she lets a few fingertips trace along the ridges of the scars. They even extend up into his hairline, leaving him with lopsided locks.

Her dainty touches make the skin tingle, and Obito has to repress a shiver. “...ugly, aren’t they?”

“...no. They’re strong,” is her rebuke. “...they show that you lived.”

He has no retort for that. “...I-I should...try to sleep.”

Letting her hand retreat, Ryū offers, “Just do as you’re told, and you won’t have any trouble. And if you need any help, just ask me, okay?”

“...okay.” He moves to the empty cot, kicking off his shoes and struggling to lie down without being tossed back out.

Only once he goes still does Ryū extinguish her candle.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the waning circus evening keep him awake. So many unknowns, so much to fear. But...he has a dry place to sleep. Something over his head. Food to eat.

And...maybe a friend.

He can handle this...for now. But someday, he’ll escape. And he’ll take Ryū with him. He doesn’t know how they’ll do it, but...they will.

Someday.

The next morning, the same man that dragged him here wakes them at the crack of dawn. And Obito sees the others who occupy the tent: the rest of the malformed. A set of conjoined twin boys, another with extra limbs, a woman with a bearded face, and a man with just one eye in the center of his head are just a few of the people subjected to scrutiny.

Along with the rest of the troupe, there’s a hurried breakfast before they help in carrying out the preparatory tasks of upkeep. Cleaning up garbage, setting up props and tents, hauling in supplies from the train...whatever it takes to be ready for another wave of guests.

Once that’s done...it’s time for their real work to begin.

Led to a long, narrow tent, Obito balks at the sight of cages. And like trained dogs, every one of the so-called freaks takes their place within one.

“The hell are you waiting for? Get into place!”

Obito feels a push at his back, nearly stumbling as he’s forced toward a small, empty crate. Once inside, the door is shut...but not locked.

“Remember...look alive, ladies and gents! Don’t leave the guests disappointed.”

...and so it goes.

For hours and hours, people parade through the tent, gawking and pointing at the unfortunates within. Small children hide behind their parents, whose noses wrinkle in disgust. On and on and on it goes.

And then the worst possible happenstance comes to pass.

Shuffling past his cage, a pair of young people stop. Obito, despondent, looks up as he hears his name uttered in question.

...he knows these two.

Staring at him in horror, a boy and a girl meet his eyes, full of questions they can’t bring themselves to ask. For a long moment, the trio stare at one another...before the boy beyond the bars urges his feminine companion away, the pair of them whispering to each other before fading out of sight.

He’s never felt so humiliated.

Only once the daylight starts fading is the tent closed, and the cast freed to have their evening meal. Legs sore from being so confined, Obito winces and hobbles behind the rest of them.

Only Ryū waits for him.

“...I heard two people say your name,” she murmurs softly, noting his look of shame. “Did someone recognize you…?”

“...yeah,” he replies, tone warbling. “Now everyone will know.”

“...we’ll change cities, soon. I’m sorry, Obito.” She offers a hand, gently leading him back to where they’re fed.

But her day isn’t yet done.

“You...perform?”

“Mhm. I tightrope walk,” Ryū confirms. She’s changed into a white leotard and leggings, hair bound up tight behind her head.

“Can I see…?”

“You can stay by the back entrance - I think you can see from there. Just don’t let anyone spot you, okay?”

“Okay…!”

Tucking behind a barrel, Obito peers out as Ryū’s act is announced: Specter, the ghost of the circus who defies gravity itself. Up a ladder she climbs to a rope tied between two of the main poles of the largest tent. Barefoot, she makes her way out, balance maintained as she walks, flips, and seems to dance. With each stunt, the crowd gasps as the rope sways.

...there’s no net, should she fall.

Obito watches with bated breath, both fearful she’ll stumble, and yet entranced as she remains upright. But when the act is done and the applause sounds out, she’s still safe.

He sighs at last.

“That was amazing…!”

Giving him a glance from her cot that night, she ducks her head with a demure smile. “...thanks.”

“Does everybody do more than sit in the cages?”

“Some do, but not everyone.” Ryū considers him. “...do you have any special talents you could do?”

That makes him hesitate. “...I dunno.”

“If you find one, maybe you can get an act. If you do, you get out early to prepare.”

Well, that’s all the convincing he needs! Any less time he has to spend in that tent, the better. So when no one is looking, he starts practicing with throwing knives.

It takes time - they change cities more than once before he’s any good at it, and several more before he’s confident. Presenting his new talent to the ringmaster, he’s given a secondary slot to perform.

...and so it goes. Days blend into weeks, to months, and then to years. All across the land they travel, the circus torn down and put up again and again as the train takes them back and forth.

Soon enough, Obito is no longer a boy. After years of lugging supplies and pitching tents, he’s gotten far bulkier than his scrawny childhood self. Easily able to pack just about anything, he performs feats of strength for onlookers, including smashing a bell with a weight propelled by a hammer strike.

It earns him the stage name the Burned Beast.

And all the while, Ryū keeps up her acts. She too blossoms, growing into a young woman and becoming one of the most popular acts of the circus. Posters bear her face, and she’s often toted around on Obito’s shoulder to gain more attention before her act every night.

But it’s not just her talents she’s lauded for. While her ghostly appearance puts off some, it brings in others.

Needless to say...most back down when Obito looms up behind her, glowering them all back like mice before a hawk.

While he’s made a friend or two beyond Specter, the pair remain closest with one another. Ryū tends to any injuries he gets, gently keeping him in tip-top shape. And Obito serves almost as a guard whenever necessary.

And neither of them have forgotten their wish to someday escape.

They often speak of it long into the night, ruminating and reminiscing: discussing what they’ll do once they’re free.

The only question is how to do it.

Staring out at the darkening horizon one night, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems like it’s going to rain tonight.”

“Really?” Ryū joins him at the mouth of the barrack tent, pinning up her hair as she glances out. “...well, it should be fine. We’ll be inside for the rest of the night.”

As she retreats, Obito keeps up his vigil. Something doesn’t feel right.

...but they have a show to put on.

Over the years, Ryū’s act has grown and evolved. Nowadays, she’s packed in on Obito’s shoulder, waving to the crowd until he throws her straight up to cling to a pair of hanging ropes. Twists and turns see her travel up and down the lengths until she finds her way to the tightrope.

And at Obito’s insistence, he remains below, ready to catch her should she fall. For a time, everything goes as per usual. Ryū wows the crowd with her stunts and agility.

But as the act switches to its second phase, the wind begins to pick up, rain pelting the canvas of the tent. And in the air, thunder rumbles.

It’s not just rain...it’s a thunderstorm.

Watching Ryū, Obito spares glances to the entrances. The weather is blowing in, causing those on the ends of the stands to huddle inward. Light flashes as bolts fling across the sky.

...this isn’t good.

And then, with a mighty clap, a streak of lightning hits the top of the tent...and flames begin to spread in spite of the rain.

Panic.

Circus people and guests alike scatter, scrambling for exits as the fire eats at the structure.

“Ryū!”

Huddled atop her rope, Ryū looks down to Obito and his open arms. “I-I -!”

“Jump!”

Steeling herself, she does just that, landing in his grip with a grunt.

He runs.

Like tinder, the rest of the circus is going up in flames. Canvas is quick to catch from flying sparks. Wagons erupt into fireballs. Cages are opened to let animals free, people fleeing into the rain.

“Obito!”

Still carrying her, he ignores her calls. Into the barrack tent he barrels. “Grab your things!”

“But -?”

“This is it! Our chance to run!”

Panic pales and pinches her face. “Where?!”

“Anywhere! We can’t stay here, it’s all -!”

With a crash, a flaming beam collapses atop the tent only feet from them, tongues of fire reaching eagerly for anything and everything it can reach...and blocking the way out.

“Run!”

Hauling her bag of meager possessions as Obito does the same, Ryū follows as he slashes the rear panel of canvas with a knife he’s kept hidden away from his act. Neither of them look back, fleeing toward the tracks where the engine - trying to avoid the spreading flames - begins to move.

“Get on!” Tossing his bag, Obito turns to Ryū, picking her up and setting her within the car.

“Obito!” She reaches a hand, hauling him up as he lands halfway onboard. As the locomotive begins to pick up speed, they watch the flaming carcass of the circus fade into the darkening distance.

...shocked silence falls over them both.

They aren’t the only ones who ran. Several others huddle in this car, and the rest are just as occupied.

No one finds the ringmaster.

Claiming a corner, the pair of them hunker down, clinging to their bags and trying to wrap their heads around the devastation.

“...it’s really over...isn’t it?”

Obito gives her a glance. She seems far more upset than he expected. “...yeah. It is.”

Clearly frightened, she leans into him, Obito not hesitating to wrap protective arms around her frame. “...I-I can’t believe it…”

“...we’re free.”

She looks up, expression slowly slackening to wonder. “...we’re free…”

“No more cages. No more ringmaster. Nothing. We can go our own way, now. Just like we planned, for so long…!” Carefully, he takes her face in his hands. “...no more Specter. No more Burned Beast. Just Ryū, and Obito.”

She softens, bringing a hand up to rest along his wrist. “...together.”

Eyes flickering over her face, Obito lets himself smile...and then do something he’s wanted to do for quite some time now. Lowering his own, he slowly - hesitantly - brings his lips to hers.

There’s a moment where she stiffens...but then she goes lax in his hold. It’s a slow, chaste, somber thing...but when they pull apart, they reconverge into a warm, comforting hold.

There’s no telling where they’ll end up now, with their pasts now up in cinders. But wherever it will be, they’ll be there together.

So this is uh...very angsty x’D I don’t think it’s at all what Meg prolly pictured but it’s immediately what came to mind for me kjhdjfgdg Circuses are, in some ways, not very great places. They’ve improved over time of course, but many still abuse animals, and even people still. Oro is our ringmaster as their actions in Oto could be seen as something similar: gathering up people who don’t fit in to “profit” off of them. So while they can be fun, my mind immediately went to the darker side of them mostly because of Phantom of the Opera but shhh. ANYWAY, I could’ve fleshed this out more but I’m on a bit of a schedule ahaha~ So parts might seem a little rushed, but I tried ;w; That said I really enjoyed writing this one. Angst isn’t ALWAYS my cup of tea, but when I have a craving for it, it’s lots of fun x3 Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #orochimaru #fabulous freaks [ au ]

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kusunokihimea · 5 years ago

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[ @abyssaldespair ]

After the chaos, there is quiet.

Worn and weary, Ryū sleeps soundly in her cot, the soft serenade of her heart rate monitor filling the silence. The murmur of the hospital proper is muffled through the shut door, giving the new family a little peace. For the moment there are no medics, no nurses, just...the three of them.

Seated in a chair at Ryū’s bedside, Obito stares at the new life cradled in the crooks of his arms. He’s so...small. So fragile. At first, there’d been a flicker from the past, a memory of the last time he’d held a person so tiny, so new.

It had almost made him refuse the bundle. But Ryū’s gentle coaxing helped him overcome the flinch, aiding him in adjusting their son in his arms.

Their son...!

In a way, it still doesn’t quite feel real. After so long of trying, and then finally, finally having new life take root. The lingering doubts, her gentle reassurances, watching as her body made room for another. And then in the matter of a few hours, after three-fourths of a year of waiting, it was over.

He still can’t describe everything he felt when he heard those first cries.

But now, the noise and action is over. Reiji, named in trend of Ryū’s mother, sleeps soundly in the cradle of his father’s arms. A dusting of white hair is framed by a deep black along the rear and sides of his head. The few glances Obito’s gotten of open eyes showed greys darker than his mother’s, but lighter than his own.

...he has to wonder if those eyes will ever be another color.

The thought is interrupted, however, as the infant moves. There’s a light grunt, little untrained limbs wobbling as he struggles against his swaddling. Then those eyes open, staring up at the face of his father.

Obito stills.

A buried anxiety starts to build. This face has earned scorn and scrutiny since it was unmasked. How many stares, how many horrified glances? The marred surface has unnerved children and adults alike...few offer any kind of sympathy or understanding.

What will his own blood think?

Quiet gurgles bubble up the babe’s throat, still wriggling in his confines as Reiji adjusts to an existence separate from his mother. And all the while, he keeps staring, gaze thirsty for knowledge of this new world.

Obito hardly dares to breathe, waiting for the crying to start.

...but it never comes.

Instead, Reiji gives another grunt, arms struggling against gravity and novelty to reach...up? Obito knows that many a toddler enjoy grasping at hair, but...his own is hardly long enough to warrant attention. But he’s curious, so he carefully shifts his grip to bring his baby closer.

But rather than hair, Reiji makes to hold something else. A tiny hand, fingers still untrained, whispers along the ridges of his father’s right side. Greys drink in the image, exploring with all the senses he can spare as he memorizes a face that will - gods willing - be one he knows and loves for many years to come.

The touches are so soft, so innocently inquisitive...it reminds him of the first time Ryū dared to caress the hardened skin. How gentle she’d been, how reverent. She’d looked at him much the same way: without judgement, without fear...just a genuine curiosity colored with a fondness that only grew. The only one to call him beautiful

Before he can stop it, there’s there telltale sting in his eyes, which soon well with traitorous tears. Lip trembling, he struggles against the urge to cry - who knows what reaction that will bring, and he doesn’t want Reiji to wake his exhausted mother. So instead, he brings a hand (mindful of his grip) to his face, hiding behind it as shoulders quake silently in emotion.

What has he ever done to deserve this...? He thought it miracle enough to find what he found in Ryū after all he’d done, all he’d become. But now she’s given him this: something he never thought he’d have the chance to have. Something that, for years, he thought he never wanted. A new life, half his own, to mold and shape...to love and protect. So fragile a thing, so untouched yet by the cruelties of the world he faced...and faced nearly alone.

No matter what it takes...no matter what he has to do...it won’t happen again. This life, his responsibility, won’t ever feel what he felt. See what he saw. No...this time, everything will go right. No more orphans, no more lonely children, no more hardened hearts. Together, he and Ryū will make sure Reiji has all they ever lacked. He will grow surrounded by a family that loves him, that will be there through the good and the ill. Their world is changing, even if Obito once thought that impossible.

...he thought all this impossible. And yet, here they are.

Sniffling and heaving a shaking sigh, he does his best to swallow down the feeling - not to repress it, but to accept it. Baring his face, he gives a tearstained smile, leaning forward to ever so carefully rest his brow to his son’s.

“...happy birthday,” he murmurs, hearing the babe give a gurgling giggle that births a smile so wide it makes his scars ache. But that pain is all in the past.

Now...something new must begin.

#abyssaldespair #safeguard these scars [ obiryū || abyssaldespair ]#pregnancy //#long post #i know we haven't even done wedding stuff buuut #i had to xD

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grecoisms · 7 years ago

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title: to deserve a spring (3/3) pairing: Kakashi Hatake / Sakura Haruno rating: M summary: “

Still for @ninjas-in-love and @neonanything. THANK YOU FOR EVERY REBLOG AND LIKES AHHHHH!

Let us go forth together to the spring: Love must be this, if it be anything.

xxii.

Kakashi awakes to the sound of his regrets in a form of a headache the size of Konoha, the smell of tea and eggs, and Sakura's voice. He dares not open his eyes yet, so instead, he opens his mouth.

"Yo" he wants to say, but it comes out as "Ugh". The tongue in his mouth feels dry and heavy, as if he had swallowed sand.

It is when he sits up that he realizes he has been sleeping on the floor, fully clothed, using the carpet as a blanket.

The left rim of his vision is a blur, a window on rainy days, with the slight difference of feeling like it is on fire. The dead skin beneath his scar is pulsing.

There is a stench in the air.

"Good morning." greets Sakura, whom he still cannot see. Not even a patch of pink.

"Where are you?" he asks, and touches his own face, alarmed.

"Your mask is on" the voice says, and finally, Sakura's face glide into his world, from behind him. The cup of tea she places on his old, white table is steaming, the eggs are scrambled. "You smell like distillery and dogpiss."

"My aesthetic." he groans. She laughs, but not unkindly.

"Want me to carry you to the table?"

"I think I completely razed my reputation as it is, so why not."

As she helps him up, he notices that Sakura has her flak jacket on, and that her equipment await her next to the door.

"Is this how you usually deal with hospital bureaucracy?" Standing up is especially hard now. The room is a vertigo, but her grip on his arm is gentle steel.

Her eyes follow his. She makes a brushing movement, as if trying to cast aside the question.

"I have Saturdays off. Besides, "and her voice is a little too light now. "One of the med nins in Neji's team has fallen ill. Shikamaru asked me to step in. Just this once. I told Tsunade and she consented."

The table and chair are finally in his reach, but he refuses to sit down now. And while Sakura is still holding his right hand, his left grabs the back the chair.

"Neji and Shikamaru are ANBU."

Sakura licks her lips.

"Yes." her voice is soft.

The realization dawns.

"No." Kakashi says. Suddenly, the room is too bright and sharp, just when the sharingan is alive. Fear makes him alert.

"They asked me nicely."

"Refuse it nicely, then." he knows he is being stubborn and childish. He has not felt this stupid since he left Naruto follow Sasuke and then he decided on acting like a hermit.

Sakura puts her hands on her hips.

"I can decide for good what I really want. ANBU is not the end of the world."

"ANBU is death."

"ANBU is a choice and has the potential of protecting people too." Her eyes are darker now, a shade of dark forest. "You have served in it for years and became wiser for it."

Kakashi wants to say, ANBU was an escape for me. He wants to say, you can take a shinobi out of ANBU, but you cannot take ANBU out of that person anymore.

He does not wish this fate for Sakura. But he wants her to make her own choices.

"The hospital is safer space." he says then, factual and cold. "I think ANBU a mistake."

"I am not Rin." she says then, suddenly. Her hands are not on her hips anymore, but palms open and against her sides.

Kakashi goes very still.

The clock on the wall sets a rhythm to the silence. From this close, Kakashi can see that Sakura has some freckles, even though it is winter. She is not angry but sad, rather, and that makes the stubborness in him melt. Sakura is climbing through his fences, he realizes.

"I know" he says, but the tone of it does not ring quite sincere. " I just -"

He does not know how to finish so instead he sits down and buries his head in his hands.

Her voice is impossibly calm and very kind.

"It was not your choice or responsibility then. And it is not now. Rin knew what she was doing. And I know what I am doing."

Looking up, Kakashi smiles. But this time, the look in his eyes is bitter, the smile is an old facade, the one that reminds her of olden times. She hated that smile then and resents it still. It is a construction meant to deceive.

"She had known and she died nevertheless."

"Her. Decision." She is adamant. He blinks.

"Is this only about the mission?"

She does not miss a beat with the answer.

"Are you ready for another conversation?"

Checkmate.

He does not answer, so she puts on her heavy shinobi boots, collects her gears and before she slips out of the door says,

"See you."

"Be safe" he mumbles, but she is already gone.

xxiii.

First snow falls the next day.

For most part of the week, he vacillates between taking up an S-mission himself or simply lie down and wait for eternal rest to claim him.

Instead, he scrubs the floor six times and washes all of his clothes and sharpens and polishes all his weapons, gives them names and puts them away in alphabetical order. He cleans the windows. He waxes every wooden material. He performs rituals to forbid his mind from wandering and wondering where Sakura is.

Winter has its difficulties, so he takes his team on patrols. He takes them mountain climbing, which means while they freeze their ass off, his students clean the icicles off of the Hokages' noses. Umma is careful - Doctor Haruno is not in town and she would not let another medic nin near her.

Snow reminds Kakashi of their very first mission together, when Naruto and Sasuke and Sakura had to face what being a shinobi really means.

Shinobi, said Zabuza before he died, arms limp and useless against his sides. Use or be used. You are no ninjas until you awoke and slept with the smell of blood. Shinobi is not a shadow. It is a weapon.

The memory sends a chill down his spine.

"Sensei!" Tassun shouts, way above him. "Can't we use some jutsu? Please?"

Kakashi forbids it. He also forbids himself to compare Tassun to Obito. Even though he is prides himself to be a rational man, he is above all a nostalgic men, draped in melancholy.

Rule twenty-five.

Never show your tears.

But Zabuza was not a melancholic man and still, he wept when Haku died. Naruto was - is - like that, but his tears are a way of giving in. Gives all things their due tears. His tears are invert in nature.

Sakura's tears are efficient: she is an emotional being and knows the worth of that. Her tears are public for a reason. She could easily remember and recite the rules while crying for Sasuke when she believed him dead. It did not faze her. Thus her greatest power lies in knowing this compassion is no weakness.

Shedding tears as a lesson.

Kakashi has not cried since they buried Minato, and swore he never would. He used to believe that was something to take pride in - something that makes one mature. He does not remember seeing Sasuke shed a tear either and how much respect he felt for him. Now he looks at Sasuke, all hollow; and regards himself, preserving sanity with total denial (hiding after all, is denial. He is a coward but not a liar) and wonders how could he ever think what they done has been venerable.

He thinks; Sakura must be smiling now, with snow in her hair.

He also wonders whether Sakura smiles with the knowledeg about the unmitigated power she possesses, topping them all in her wake.

xxiv.

News comes on Friday.

The smell of hot chocolate is everywhere, because Umma has spilled half of its content on her vest and the other half on Kakashi's. Then her student stops and points at the opposite direction they are heading.

"Look, it is the crabby man." And truly, Neji is standing at the corner of Konoha's main street with Hinata accompanying him. He seems okay, apart from wearing the ugliest coat in the history of Konoha and the ugliest frown too.

Hinata spots them, and waves. She has her a coat similar to Neji's, but the snow washes out her features.

Kakashi has to get to the lake, but wants - needs - to know about the mission and especially about Sakura's wellbeing.

They are standing far away.

Kakashi might have a premature stroke.

"Umma," he says. "Can you ask crabby man about Sakura? I will run to the lake and bring Koshi back, then we will get lunch."

"Okay." she grimaces. "But we eat at Dango's."

xxiv.

No lunch on Friday. And no drink for that matter. Not now or ever.

Because instead of Umma waiting for them and Sakura standing there with her all-teeth smile and snow in her hair saying, Are you getting senile in your old age, Hatake? See, here I am. Safe and sound; it is Neji and Hinata and Tsunade who wait for him.

Kakashi cannot read Tsunade's face, and Neji's frown is absolute and deep, but it is Hinata who makes him freeze. She is the one wearing true grief. She is pale, she, who always blushes. Paleness means sorrow for Hinata and Kakashi's heart sinks, his mind empties.

Koshi whistles at the sight of the three leaders.

"Go home now, Koshi." he says. The boy looks up at him and he does not joke the order away. He does not even look back as he runs home.

Neji and Hinata lock eyes as Kakashi reaches them. Tsunade looks up at him and this nearness allows Kakashi to see that Tsunade is livid, her eyes have that legendary flame she has cradled since a very young age. Her passion is a heritage of blood.

Kakashi hides his hands behind his back to hide the fact he is shivering, trembling.

"Is she dead?" he asks, slowly. He looks at Tsunade but it is Neji who answers, truthful and cruel.

"We don't know."

xxv.

It happens like this. Sakura Haruno and Shikamaru Nara with the leadership of Neji Hyuuga complete their S-ranked mission in a perfect three-day tempo, in relative ease. Aim of the mission is to secure a perimeter around Kusa and the border of the Land of the Grass so to ensure the safety of an Iwa convoy. There are no complications, the convoy sends hawk they arrived to their destination in peace and by Captain Hyuuga's orders they are to return home.

However, before leaving, Shikamaru Nara and Sakura Haruno visit Kusa in hopes of obtaining some aliment and some information. This is a tradition among shinobi. When time, make sure to use it wisely. Information is weapon in war, the knife of knowledge wounds deeper than any sword. Neji approves, so he lets them mingle among the villagers.

There is no food, and only one rumour, dominant in the city. Two men, two legendary shinobis, are said to have been spotted around the ruins of Kezuma, a former satellite hideout not so far from Eika's base. One is said to be the lost Uchiha heir. The other one is the fox demon of Konoha. They have been said to be disguised as beggars.

It happens like this: a decision needs to be made. To have a second, greater mission without backup or not to have, not to pry, not to try.

Shikamaru Nara votes to have. Neji Hyuuga votes to have. Sakura Haruno votes to have.

Their chakras are full, power and energy not spent. Captain Hyuuga sends a coded telegram home to his cousin, Hinata Hyuuga, who, after transcribing, runs to the Godaime at once with the news. Tsunade Senju does not write anything, because Neji Hyuuga has written: Already on route. No contact.

It is Wednesday dawn when they set out for the ruins, hope in their hearts. For Naruto Uzumaki has this power over them all. Neji thinks of his actions, Shikamaru his eyes, Sakura his words.

They are close. And find them they do.

It happens like this: The two lost ninjas are fleeting from Iwa. Naruto is unconscious, Sasuke is half dragging, half holding him when the three of them find them. Uchiha mistakes them for foes and manages to wound Captain Hyuuga on both legs, when finally Uchiha recognizes Sakura Haruno and ceases his attack.

The medic ninja then insists on healing both Hyuuga and Uzumaki. Uchiha informs them that he is being hunted down by the Explosion Corps and they have no time. Sakura Haruno begins the healing process despite Uchiha's argument and Neji Hyuuga asks Shikamaru Nara to strategize the fastest escape plan he can come up with. Nara insists on a defensive stance until Uzumaki and the Captain is down. Uchiha and Hyuuga agree.

No sooner Nara draws up a plan where they move onto a higher ground - Kezuma used to be three watchtowers of which one remained intact - the assailants arrive. Twenty-five against five. Naruto is almost healed, but unconscious. Hyuuga cannot get up properly. Shikamaru, Uchiha and Haruno fight for a while and the two of them manage to decimate the opponents. Nara then picks up Captain Hyuuga who orders them to retreat at once. Hyuuga tells Uchiha specifically to get Uzumaki and Haruno both.

Haruno screams for them to remain together. Just as Hyuuga and Nara disappear in the bushes, backup arrives. Haruno begins to attack them once again and Uchiha Sasuke makes the choice of using Haruno as bait. According to him, he has had to choose, and he choose Naruto Uzumaki, leaving Haruno on the battlefield, leaving to fate and chance and her own wit to survive.

And the four men - one unconscious, one healed, one fuming, one cursed - return to Konoha without the healer.

xxvi.

Much to Kakashi's dismay, almost all of the villagers are out on the streets, enveloping the main street as Naruto Uzumaki - limping and pale - accompanies Sasuke Uchiha - shackled and back bent - to the shinobi headquarters where judgement awaits him and the mission they completely fucked up. Some villagers spit on the road, some cheer, others are silent as the cenotaph Kakashi has forgotten to visit for a fortnight now.

Within the council, that acts both as judge and jury, are such people as Tsunade (because she is the Hokage and head of this village), Neji (Captain and Commander of said ANBU mission), Shikamaru (a witness), Hinata (head of the greatest clan presently thriving in Konoha), and Kakashi (former sensei and theoretically unbiased outsider).

The room is cold in temperature and color. Behind the table the council is seated, Shizune is attempting to strike a fire with matches, but her hands seem to tremble too much and so any chance for some warmth must be postponed. Self-inflicted exile and revenge has done no good to Sasuke's complexion. There is a sunken demeanor, a broken angle on his face that transformed him effectively unsightly. Naruto does not live his side. They are both standing.

The first part of the hearing is about Sasuke's tour around the world in order to kill Itachi and overrule the Shinobi countries. Sasuke gives one-word answers. Naruto tries to defend him by quoting Orochimaru and Karin and Sakura and basically half Konoha from the times Sasuke was still a genin prodigy. By the time Tsunade and Naruto finish arguing whether Sasuke Uchiha truly committed treason, it is already two in the afternoon. They started the hearings early morning.

Now comes the hardest part. The events of the last mission.

"Captain Hyuuga informed me that the ANBU team found you close to the Kezuma ruins." says the Godaime. "Is that correct?"

Sasuke looks at Neji. Clears his throat.

"We were around five miles from the watchtowers."

"Did you hide within the ruins prior to the meeting?"

"Yes.”

"For how much time?"

"Two weeks."

"For what reasons?"

It is a milisecond, but Naruto and Sasuke exchange a look that makes everyone rather uncomfortable. Shinobis at this caliber can read each other easily.

Tsunade wants none of it.

"Were you injured?"

"We wanted to rest. Naruto had found me in the very West regions of Tsuchi. After convincing me to return, we have been on the road for more than a month."

"Were you resting or hiding, Uchiha?" Tsunade's voice is now sharp.

Sasuke jaws clench and Naruto puts his hand on the shoulder of his friend.

"We knew I was being followed. We tried to outmaneuver them with no success. I killed some of them, but seems like their resources exceeded my calculations."

Shikamaru Nara mutters something. Sounds like "No fucking shit".

Naruto cuts in.

"We guessed an open confrontation would finish it. But I got injured and knew we had to reach Konoha at once."

To everyone's surprise, Hinata raises her hand, demanding the right to query. Her eyes, though milky, have a sharp tip.

"Sasuke" her voice is not timid. "Why did you attack my cousin?"

Neji, next to her, crosses his arms.

"We almost got killed a minute before" Sasuke seems downright bored. "I was sure he was enemy too."

"Sharingan." says Hinata simply. Sasuke reddens.

A beat of silence.

"You are going blind" continues Hinata gently. "Don't you?"

Neji's glare competes with Tsunade's.

"It is not relevant." Sasuke says simply.

"You irresponsible, selfish fuck." This is Shikamaru, voice pleasant despite the profanity. "You endangered all of our lives by giving us orders while we were trying to save your life."

"We were wasting time."

"We tried to fix the damage you have done. What else we could do with two teammate on the ground, one you put there?"

"I told Sakura - "

Neji prevents Sasuke from finishing.

"Sakura did not follow your orders."

It is useless for Naruto to keep his hands on him, because Sasuke tears himself from his clutch.

"She followed no one's. I told her we cannot waste time and yet she made her choice and started to heal you on the spot."

"Are you saying it is Sakura's fault she got captured?" it is the first time Kakashi speaks up, voice quiet.

Sasuke looks haughty.

"I am saying she put her energy in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He stands up. Sasuke is stronger than him, stockier even in his weakened state, but Kakashi is taller by almost an inch, all wire and sinew. He moves around the table elegantly, straight like a knife. Faces Uchiha, whom he taught as a mentor and loved as a father a long time ago.

"Is that why you left her behind?" his voice is still very soft, not showing the horrible fury he feels.

Sasuke stares at him, expression plain.

"Sakura is just a medic nin."

There was a time when thirteen year old Sasuke, angry and hurt and tied to a tree, spit at him, saying; What if I killed the people most important to you? Wouldn’t you care? Kakashi smiled then and answered. Impossible. Everyone I cared about had already died.

And Kakashi Hatake has killed many people in his life, but he has never wanted to kill anyone more clearly than Sasuke Uchiha at that very moment, that cold winter afternoon, in that Konoha council room full of people. Wonders if Sasuke even suspects the possibility of fulfilling an old promise.

And there must be something the way he looks at the boy, the way his voice sounds, because Sasuke is taking a step back and Naruto steps in front of Sasuke. Behind him, each member of the council stand as a precaution.

His voice sounds foreign to him, heavy and dead.

Impossible, impossible. Old - technically young - Kakashi would just smile.

"Get him out of here."

xxvii.

After Naruto pushes Sasuke out, Hinata and Shikamaru leave as well - she touches his back, he nods, both an act of sympathy - and Tsunade, Neji and him remain.

"Rescue mission." he says the moment the door closes.

Neji is looking out the window, on the main square where snow locks the cobblestones deep under dead weight. Tsunade has her head cradled in her hands and sends Shizune for some alcohol before she answers.

"Kakashi" her voice is cautious, warning him to not strain this too much.

"The more we wait the less chance we have." It is a fact. He looks at Neji who still avoids his gaze. Tsunade also refuses to look up.

"I know this. But Sasuke is right and Sakura is a medic nin and one of the brightest in the village. She is a survivor."

"She might be seriously injured, if not dead."

"If she is half the woman I know - and she is, believe me - she will claw and crawl her way out of anything. I taught her well."

"Then let me volunteer for an individual mission. "His voice now has an impatient tinge in it. "Let me have that at lea-"

"ENOUGH." bellows Tsunade and slams both her hands on the table that creaks under her anger. "Do you think I do not care because I did not kill Uchiha Sasuke outright? That it is a weakness or cruelty or disloyalty that I had not opened his guts with my bare hands the moment he stepped into Konoha again? That I was not aware that he is alive through abandoning her and this has not affected me? Because I do not make a public display of my own doubts and fears of what will happen to my most promising heir? Do you think I am made of stone? That I do not fear for Sakura's life and sanity as wholly as you?"

She crosses the space between them. Neji and Kakashi freeze in terror.

"Let me tell you something, Hatake." She just points at his chest, not even touching, but accusing him in all her physicality. "Sasuke abandoned her first. Then Naruto. Then you. You abandoned her too. Remember that? Because I do. She came to me, because she had no mentor left, even though you lived in the same. Fucking. Village." She is unrelenting, not even taking a breath. "Two streets across. And you decided to fuck it all, because there is no worth in helping a girl like Sakura, right? She came to me because you did not find time and energy for her. Not between an Uchiha boy and an Uzumaki prodigy."

She is taking a deep breath now, Tsunade. Then she deflates. Looks exhausted and truly fifty years old.

"Truth is - " she is not even looking at him now. "I think all the guilt you feel fuels this anger excellently against Uchiha. Rotten, the both of you. Worthless."

She turns away from him. Kakashi's legs are stone. He looks at a point, way above all of their heads. In the corner of his eyes, Neji is looking at his boots now, tactful and silent.

Shizune returns and Tsunade does not even need the glass, she gulps the liquor straight from the sake bottle. She still has her back to the both of them when she opens her mouth again.

"I already sent an ambassador to Iwa. They will talk to the Corps and we can have an agreement. This is my hope."

She wipes her mouth and finally turns to them. Him.

"You should congratulate me on my levelheadedness, Kakashi. I knew I would not be able to count on you now."

Her eyes are full of pity.

xxviii.

A box arrives four days later. It is addressed to Sasuke Uchiha. The box contains the head of the Konoha envoy. Iwa claims they do not have anyone named Haruno among their prisoners.

A week after the assembly, Sakura's smell is fading from his flat, the plant is withering in the corner. Kakashi sharpens his knives. Shines his shoes. Washes his uniform until his arm goes numb and his fingers weazen under the water. Washes himself carefully, with care.

Nothing is as satisfying as a clean kill.

xxix.

Just as Kakashi is checking the content of his bag, there are several footsteps on the stairs, small and swift. The children.

Umma's voice is hysterical.

"Sensei" she might have wanted to knock, but Koshi and Tassun simply fall through the whole door, bringing its hinges with them.

"Please" he says, wanting to say, not now. "The mission is in two hours." But he is taken aback. All of them are crying.

"What" he says, voice thick. All three of them.

"Sak- Sakura" Tassun says.

Kakashi does not need another word. He jumps through the sad remnants of his door, slides down the stairs in an inhuman speed and runs, flies like a man losing the last of his wits.

Hinata is the first one who he bumps into. She does not say anything, just points to the quarters on the right, Tsunade's home. Where people go to live or die.

He sees him, Rock Lee, at the door.

Someone is screaming.

It is him.

"Is she alive?" he asks, shouts, screams.

xxx.

"I was at my post when I saw her" Lee's voice is wavering, even now. They have been waiting for Tsunade to come out from the room where she is treating her, Sakura, with the outmost care. "Just a figure, slanting, in the distance. Like a shadow in the snow. Then her hair gave her away, under all that red. I ran to her as fast as I could and she was so relieved upon seeing me."

"Did she say something?"

His heart is beating so loudly it might deafen the corridor. He is trying to contain himself, but finds that he has lost this ability when it comes to Sakura some time ago.

Rock Lee shakes his head.

"She tried to clean the blood off her. She was covered in it." he waits a bit, in shock. "Wouldn't let go of her kunai."

The door opens and Tsunade steps out of the room.

Now, Kakashi Hatake has not cried since Minato was buried. Rule twenty-five. Shinobi, the shadow, the weapon. Impossible, impossible.

But upon hearing that Sakura Haruno lives, he excuses himself, wanders into the room where Sakura sleeps now. Her hair spills like a halo around her battered face an there are scars on her neck. Her knuckles are bloody and raw. But she is here now, alive and safe and in peace. So Kakashi simply falls down on his knees, puts his head onto the bed, very close to her fully bandaged right hand, and begins to weep like a child.

xxxi.

It is at dawn she wakes. Her hand jerks a bit and he is there, sliding to the floor from his seat.

"Kakashi" she states, in the semi-darkness, voice raspy. Her right hand flies into what feels like an abysmal space between them. He catches it very tenderly.

"Are you in pain?"

Sakura's eyes open up and focus. He wonders whether she has a fever. Her eyes are very bright though the light is scarce.

"Just very thirsty." A confession.

Turns out even with her hands healed she cannot really use them. But maybe because she is Sakura and he is Kakashi, they manage. She tilts her head and lets him pour the water into her mouth. Her palms and her wrists have fresh bandages. She must have literally beat her way out of Kezuma.

It takes a nod of her head for him to know that she had enough. Kakashi wants to let her sleep, but she does not let his hand go and as the sun rises, they look into each other's eyes; seeing the unseen; a different chain of confession.

"I am sorry for doubting you." he says finally. Softly. That is all he wishes for her now and wished for her since a long time.

"You were afraid" Sakura says. One of her molar teeth on the left is missing. A proof of her tenacity. She is made of sterner stuff than him, because he wants to cry again.

"Terrified."

Nothing in Kakashi's life turned out how he used to imagine it - fate or taken roads denied him in a way that he gave up trying to predict the course of his life altogether - but when Sakura leans to kiss his cheeks, the surprise feels like a blessing, and not a curse.

The angle is awkard. It does not matter.

"But here I am" and she smiles then, all-teeth, pearlwhite. The sensation of her goes straight into his head. He feels light and carefree and he is still terrified of the very notion of rushing this - whatever - they have.

He cannot say anything grandiose. He cannot, for the life of him, begin to unravel and murmur what he feels for her. But Sakura does not need grandiose, because when he tries to mutter and fails, she touches his cheeks, lightly and carefully.

He kisses the top of her head, because even in sitting he is slightly taller than her. Sakura looks up, expectant and smiling, like she did in Suna months ago, back when Kakashi has realized he wanted her.

Her smile is not teasing, it is welcoming and patient. He wonders if she can hear his heartbeat as her palms move from his jaw to his chest, just above his heart, below and between the collarbones. He wonders if he feels his heart beating its cage at the sight of her face.

And it seems Sakura might hear and know now, because she leans in again, and brushes his chin with the tip of her nose, careful.

"Hey" she whispers, breathes. There is no other sound then, except their heartbeat, and he feels like fainting, the way she looks at him now. "I know. I know."

He places hands on her own, fingers grazing fingers and he leads her hands to the hem, the edge of his mask. Sakura stares, mesmerizes. Kakashi feels his mouth going dry, his own tongue heavy with something called desire as they peel off this shield, this hideaway he has kept up for years. It is the most intimate act either of them has ever witnessed or done.

The unveiling reveals a long, slightly bent nose, a wide mouth with some crooked teeth. All dimples, as he smiles and his scar dances with this movement, his whole face a dazzling, wondrous movement. Just at the left fold of his chin there is a beauty spot. He has some stubbles and he smells clean, clear, all too human and beautiful. He is beautiful.

Aaaand, she just said this out loud.

"Two of us then" he laughs. Sakura laughs too, a heavenly sound, and he feels so weak as she draws him in the bed with her, bringing his body onto her own.

He envelopes her altogether.

"You are also bad influence."

"Am I now?" Another laugh from Sakura, but it feels breathless now, something that makes him greedy and a little too desperate for more. He feels possessive and reverent at the same time. Thinks it selfish.

"Am I hurting you?"

She shakes her head and turns their position, so Kakashi is under her now, the world upside down. It has never felt so right.

And maybe because he is Kakashi and she is Sakura, and although they are both automatic at killing, they are slow and unsure at lovemaking, so they take their time to memorize this moment at the beginning of the day.

She kisses the patch of discolored skin at his jaw and he sighs while his fingers travels at her hips, his palms spreading around the curve of her belly. She tastes a bit like blood and medication and almonds - her kisses are intense, too much teeth and tongue, but it is so Sakura-like that it makes both of his eyes flutter at the sensation. He is already hard but this is no surprise either.

She has that intention and attention that makes him unravel and when he slips one long finger past the elastic of her underwear, the warmth and the wet he finds there makes them both moan.

There is a confidence with which he meets her eyes and they converse nonverbally - do you want this, do you want me, do you want me now, gods, yesyesyes - and the way she inhales now is a sure signal that she enjoys how he slips another two fingers inside her. His black pants whisper and rustle in the silence just as she slips them from his waist. The white hospital shirt is two times larger than her size - it is easy to slide it a bit down so he can kiss her breasts.

He wants to smile - maybe crack a joke - but his mouth is full and her blunt nails cut onto his scalp and the pain and the pleasure merge like electricity.

They take their time positioning - Kakashi asks, Sakura responds; they are open and shameless communicators after all - and her thighs are strong and sure when they are wrapped around his hips; a feeling so natural it is almost scary. And just as her legs are strong, so are her hands as she leads him to her entrance. She sinks, falls, gives in, and then he is inside of her; hot and content. His fingers find her waist and spine and he groans with pleasure.

She swears. Or maybe it is him.

The material of his shirt tousle when she clenches it by starting to move. She must like the way the wool touches and rubs at the skin of her breasts, he thinks, and is mesmerized how her hair chooses to dance across her temple and around her neck. He thinks of deities and says her name.

They are in no hurry. Sakura is rocking back and forth like a mantra, like a prayer and he wants to brand this image, the image of her altar-like body into his eyes and brain as she bears her weight and her pleasure down on him.

"Maybe you are tiring after all." he breathes. Her eyes are closed, lids heavy with passion. She sticks her tongue out as an answer.

"Not my fault" she whispers, opens her eyes. Then arches her hips in a way that his whole body goes stiff and he almost comes then and there.

He sits up in retaliation, and embraces her closely and carefully, so that there is not an inch separating them. It is a support of a kind, this framing of her body; she is magnificent in her unwinding.

It could be him deciphering her, but Kakashi has seen through Sakura a long time ago just as she solved him a decade ago, not as a riddle, but as a poem, all loveliness, good deeds.

Some of the pink tint from her cheek travels downwards; toward her belly and in-between her thighs. She is getting close and when she fastens the pace, there is a pressure at the base of his back presaging his own orgasm. Her thrusts are haphazardous now, no true angles, but this incidental pain, yet again, comes with a jarring-searing like pleasure that makes him see double.

Kakashi thinks, pull out, but Sakura clenches around him, arms around his neck, strong and decisive and he is hit with her pleasure, this unrelenting phenomenon, that makes him come and he empties himself in her. It is a trading of treasure; a purge, a cleansing, a confession. Pleasure comes in loud waves, white-hot thunders, the salt-sweat feels sweet in the valley of her breasts when he opens his mouth to taste her skin for what he fears will be the last time. He is a cynic, above all. Even in the greatest pleasures.

She is resting her head on his a bit after and he touches the damp fistful of magenta hair at the base of her neck, the one he always dreamt of before. The bed is very small, but he decides to roll himself all up around her afterwards. Sakura is the first to talk. She is braver than him, always.

"You better not think I did this in a fit of feverish instinct." She sounds sleepy and content. Peaceful. She is drawing tiny circles on his wrist.

"Do you not care about Tsunade killing me in the morning?" he also feels in peace. Either way, Sakura will make a choice and he is either going to endure life as it is or be the happiest he has been for a long while. She shots him a look. The sun is up now, burning it is wake. The snow outside will melt in a week.

"She knows it would bother me a bit. Tsunade holds my interests close to her heart."

"Ah, a bit. So I have a chance after all."

"Chance?"

"To survive."

Sakura laughs. Kakashi remains serious and lowers his voice. He has to be brave too, now.

"But living might be better."

Sakura stops laughing. Her expression displays sudden shyness, as if he told her what she wanted to hear. He feels shy too, like an adolescent. In a certain way, in this case, in love, he feels lacking and sheepish.

Then Sakura, whom he has respected for years and loved for a while and may marry soon, looks up and says;

"What are the chances of living together?"

He kisses her knuckles that saved many lives, including his, and fought and conquered even more, again, including his, all victorious.

Answers lightly, all dimples:

"I would say the chances are great."

#kakasaku #kakashi x sakura #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #my writing #waiting is wasting #otp: complicated thing #AYYY

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