It's all a fraud, a fake, a lie told to little children just to steal their candy while they cry crocodile tears over their miserable lives. It's a moment in time where everyone wants to scream and pound their fists on the ground, rolling and rolling and rolling along until they mistakenly scoot over the cliff's edge.

It's a cover-up of the highest order, and she hates it like she hates him, hates them, hates the world.

Because yes, humanity is nice and all, but the people are wretched.

He stands in front of her, over her, and slouches down so that his head is hovering just over hers. If she jumped with all her strength, his jaw would crack in two, he was so close.

"Stop it with the meandering," she says with fists shaking and teeth grinding. He is too close, close enough for her to smell the sweat and poison that has seeped into his skin over the years, close enough for him to smell the antiseptic and blood that has seeped into her own.

People whirl around them in a blur of confusion, though she knows that they are looking and wondering all the same. Just because they do not stop to point and examine does not mean they don't catch the closeness in the corner of their eye, that it doesn't register that the teacher and the student are being a bit to fresh at the moment.

It would be perfectly innocent anyway, but with his hand on her hip, it isn't anymore.

"I'll stop if you stop," he says with head still bent, unknowing to the danger he is currently in. Or maybe he already knows, just like he knows exactly where to touch her to stop, to melt, to collapse in his arms moaning for more.

Anger will persevere, though. It has to, she's at work and he is the invader, he needs to leave now but this is important so she will put up with him for now. "Fine, you go off and die, and I promise I'll cry at your funeral."

His grip on her hip slips a little as he inches it lower, so that he has a hold on her thigh and closer to being entirely inappropriate. Which is what he wants, most likely.

"I told you, the facts are confidential."

She shifts so that he is forced to move his hand back up to her hip, and jerks her head up to meet his eyes. "I happen to work for the Hokage, Kakashi. I already know the facts of this mission."

"And you don't like it, is that it?" he asks, tilting his head to one side. "We're both ninjas, you should be used to this by now. Or did I fail as your instructor?"

Her teeth grind as her jaw clenches, and her fists tighten. "You are going off to stop a war from breaking out at the cost of your own life. And no one will know, they'll just call you traitor."

His other arm lifts and drapes around her shoulders, and he rests his forehead against hers. The hitai-ate that normally covers it is somewhere in the room behind them, and she notices this for the first time since she started seeing red a few minutes ago.

Someone coughs behind them, and his grip tightens on her hip. "Survival rate for this will be twenty-five percent, Sakura. I might come back alive, you know."

This seems unlikely, and someone coughs behind them again. She twists her gaze around to glare at the nurse trying to get their attention. "What is it, Nanako?"

"You are required in the Hokage's office, Miss Sakura."

She moves to escape his arms, but his voice says "Tell Tsunade that she'll get there eventually," and his arms are around her completely moving her into that back room without any effort at all. The lock latches behind him, and his mask is down around his neck with tongue darting out against her collarbone, and gloveless fingers down where they want to be pushing twisting and making her see stars.

She leans against the wall, still seeing red towards this whole mission and cover-up that will probably kill her lover, and she closes her eyes to give in to the sensations.