Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction

Author's note: Thanks for your patience! I have a lot on my plate this summer, writing-wise, as well as a child crying out with the summer complaint, “I have nothing to do!” We don't have the funds to send him to day camps this year, as I am not working (so that I can write!) so we've got a bit of a catch-22 going on. I'm doing my best to update, but it's hard.

Chapter 4

Kakashi was proud. Sakura had healed, and he was partly responsible. Since her tearful breakdown, she'd fully opened up to him, and like a carpenter repairing a house collapsed upon its own foundation, he'd reconstructed her psyche, salvaging its strongest structural elements and replacing the others. She laughed readily now, the sound of her joy always genuine. He saw a light in her eyes-- a brightly burning fire at times-- and he noticed that she attacked each day with vigor and optimism. She was a person glad to be alive, and he was thrilled to have played a role in bringing her to this healthy state. He'd done everything in his power to help her, and thankfully he'd had an effect. She was strong again, perhaps stronger than she'd ever been.

Sakura was in town today. She was aware that it was his birthday and had winked at him as she described the huge dinner she was planning to prepare. Somehow she'd learned his favorite dishes, and he imagined she was at the fishmonger's right now, haggling over saury, which, despite their autumnal abundance, were quite expensive due to their popularity. She'd have no problem finding eggplant, either, as it was still available in mid September. He hoped she wasn't planning on cake; he'd feel bad turning it down, but sweet things just didn't agree with him. And besides, now that he was in his thirties he needed to start watching what he ate. His metabolism wasn't quite as fast as it once was.

She also had other business in the village. Kakashi had spoken with the Hokage the day before, and Naruto had agreed, after slapping Kakashi's back quite heartily, that Sakura was ready to return to work. His mission was complete, and the admiration in his former student's bright blue eyes was almost payment enough.

So tonight would be their last night together, a celebration with two foci. Sakura was aware of how far she'd come in the past month, but he saw no harm in letting her know exactly how he saw things. It was obvious she hadn't received much praise over the course of her life. She mentioned her mother rarely, but from these comments Kakashi gathered that she was the sort with ridiculously high expectations, yet little praise. Of her father she didn't speak at all. The man had been present, Kakashi knew. He'd recognized the green-eyed man when he'd visited their store. But Haruno Susumu might as well have been an absent parent.

Tonight he'd make up for some of that. Kakashi had grown close to Sakura during this unusual mission. He regarded her almost as a little sister. Their bond was no longer one of teacher and student, or even teammates. He knew more about her than he'd ever learned about Naruto or Sasuke, even more than he knew about Tenzou. He understood what made her tick, as fully as if he'd taken her apart and examined the gears directing her movements. As a result he felt completely comfortable around her, so much so that he'd shared bits and pieces of his own self with her. He'd told her that she reminded him of Rin. Sakura had smiled at this, blushing slightly at the compliment, explaining that she'd heard stories about

the healer from Shizune and the Fifth. Kakashi hadn't realized his teammate's reputation had been that illustrious. He wondered what else he might have missed.

There was Sakura now, struggling with the doorknob. He hurried to help her, only to be pushed away with a fierce glare as she crushed paper shopping bags against herself.

“Don't look! This dinner is a surprise. Go back to whatever it is you were doing. As if I couldn't guess.”

Kakashi glanced at the ever-present book in his hand, and retired to the couch.

“Don't go overboard, okay?”

“I'll do whatever I like. Understood?” She smiled at him from the kitchen doorway, saucepan in hand. “When do you want to eat?”

“Six would be good. How was the hospital?”

She shouted her response over the racket emanating from the kitchen.

“Um. Good. Things are a bit of a mess over there. They were happy to hear I'll be coming back tomorrow. People were a bit weird, of course. They didn't know how to treat me. But I'll set them straight.”

He was right. She was healed. Better than healed. She was stronger than she'd been before. The old Sakura would have worried incessantly about her coworkers' response. This one sought to mold their response-- a completely different approach to the problem.

“Beer?” Sakura stood before him, heavy mug in her grasp.

“Sure. So am I king for the day?”

“Uh huh.”

“If I'd known that, I would have kept you here.”

“Too bad,” she laughed before tripping back to the kitchen.

He'd never heard her sing before, but she was doing so now, although he couldn't make out the words. She had a pleasant voice, a mellow alto that felt a bit like velvet, soft and warm. There was no doubt that she was happy. Kakashi knew that it pleased her to do things for others. Considering that for the past months she'd been unable to do anything apart from focus on her own growth, he could see why something as simple as fixing a birthday dinner was eliciting such an ebullient response for her. She was a born nurturer.

For this reason Kakashi was sure Sakura would make an excellent mother some day, although he wondered which villager would be up to the task of partnering with her. She was formidably strong, and undoubtedly the smartest ninja in the village, apart from Shikamaru. She even outranked Kakashi in intelligence. He could say without bragging that this was no small achievement. It might be off-putting to any suitors, however, as so many men looked for women who were their lesser. Still, Sakura would find someone to appreciate her talents and native intelligence, as well as her occasional bad tempers. He'd need to keep a lookout for her.

Kakashi chuckled at the idea of playing matchmaker for the pink-haired kunoichi. She'd never allow it. If there was one thing he'd learned during her stay with him, it was that she was easily as proud as him.

A sharp rap at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Could you get that? My hands are full.”

Kakashi pulled up his mask and slouched to the door, wondering who might be calling. Few made the journey up the face of the Hokage bluff-- that was one of the charms of this location. And, as they said in the real estate business, location was everything.

“Happy birthday!”

Ayame's pleasant, apple-cheeked face was a complete surprise, as was the fact that she'd lugged her wooden ramen carrier up the many steps leading to the house.

“I didn't order dinner. Did you, Sakura?” Of course she hadn't. Kakashi immediately felt foolish for even asking the question.

“What?” Sakura joined him in the entry, dishcloth in her hands.

“Oh. Don't worry! This was my idea. I knew it was your birthday, and how much you like our soup, so I thought I'd bring you some, on the house, of course. You don't mind, do you?”

The copy ninja didn't miss the look that passed between Ayame and his temporary roommate, and it caused him to wonder briefly if the pair had a history. He didn't have a chance to ask, however, as Sakura turned abruptly and returned to the kitchen, muttering something about Naruto under her breath.

Ayame moved quickly, scooting past Kakashi and into the living room where she placed the large wooden carrier on the kotatsu and quickly unloaded it. It contained not just the usual multiple bowls of ramen, but the accoutrements needed for a picnic lunch or simple dinner: a small table cloth, not much bigger than a furoshiki, a porcelain spoon, a single lidded bowl of soup, and the bud vase that often seemed to accompany his meals, occupied tonight by a seasonal white spider mum. There were lacquered chopsticks, too, something never seen at the ramen house, where the disposable bamboo variety were the usual implement. Kakashi lifted an eyebrow in bewilderment at this completely unnecessary offering.

“Only for one? Well, I suppose Sakura and I could share this as a first course.”

“There's really not enough for two, but of course, I'm sure you know best.” Ayame smiled sweetly, although her pleasant look morphed into more of a grimace as her nose twitched in recognition of a certain odor.

Kakashi smelled it, too. Sakura's carefully planned dinner of his all-time favorites--broiled saury and miso soup with eggplant-- was burning. The air quickly blackened with the acrid, volatile ash of incinerated proteins. Sakura's swears emanated from the kitchen, as did the hiss of red hot metal as a pan hit dish water.

“Well, it's a good thing I showed up, isn't it?” Ayame shut and latched her traveling case with a giggle, and lugged the somewhat lighter box to the door. A poorly disguised look of schadenfreude lit her face as she made her exit. “We miss you at the restaurant. Don't be a stranger, okay?”

“Dinner's ruined,” Sakura said as soon as Ayame left. Her frustration was evident. “I'm sorry.”

“Well, would you like to go out, or share what Ayame brought? It should be enough for the both of us. I'm really not that hungry.” The truth was that he had no desire to go out tonight. Quite a few of his comrades were aware of his birthday, and he would likely encounter them in all of their back-slapping good spirits, should he and Sakura venture into the village. He'd rather avoid all that, and have a nice, low key evening, even if that meant going hungry.

Sakura sighed as she sat down at the low kotatsu. “This is good enough, I guess, although I don't see what's so great about Ichiraku Ramen. If it weren't for Naruto I think the place would be closed by now.”

Kakashi was certain he'd heard Sakura sing the ramen place's praises on one or more occasions. Yes, something was definitely up between Ayame and her.

“Sorry. I'm just upset about ruining your birthday dinner. I don't know what it is with me and cooking. My mind wanders and suddenly everything is burnt to a crisp. Although tonight that wasn't exactly the case...” He didn't have opportunity to ask her to clarify, although her glower was probably explanation enough. She jumped up from the table immediately. “I'll get another bowl and spoon.”

She was smiling again when she returned, although her expression looked a little more pasted on than he was used to seeing of late. “You'd think it would be impossible to burn soup, you know?”

“Well, where there’s a will, there's a way. And you, Sakura, are nothing if not strong-willed.”

She frowned as she passed him the sriracha sauce she'd thoughtfully brought back from the kitchen. He proceeded to douse his noodles in the chili-flavored concoction. She knew him too well.

“Hey. I meant that as a compliment.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. I guess.”

“Eat.” He carefully poured half of the broth into Sakura's bowl, then distributed noodles and toppings between the two. She picked at her dinner for a while, stirring the curly pasta with her chopsticks and taking a bite or two of the sliced egg which had sunk heavily to the bottom of the bowl.

“You know, I'm not that hungry, especially not for this. I met Naruto at Ichiraku for lunch, and ordered this exact same dish.”

“You don't like her very much, do you?”

“Who? Ayame?” Sakura laughed. “Actually, you've got that backwards. For whatever reason, she doesn't like me. Not lately, anyway. She's consistently rude to me whenever I eat there. Even Naruto noticed it.” That was saying something. Despite his considerable growth-- both before taking on the role of Hokage and after-- Naruto could still be a bit dense about things that were obvious to everyone else, particularly interpersonal relationships.

Sakura pushed her bowl away, and sat back on her heels, evidently finished with her dinner. Kakashi poured the contents of her bowl into his own nearly empty one and slurped the now cool noodles. He'd forgotten to eat lunch, which was easy to do when he was all alone with no one to remind him. It was funny how he'd grown used to Sakura’s presence. He had no qualms about eating in front of her anymore. Once she saw his face his practical side had pointed out there was no point in dining alone anymore. And to be truthful, he enjoyed the company. Eating alone was terribly boring after a while. And having company, even while doing something as mundane as watching TV, was a welcome change. She'd often end up cuddled against him as the late summer nights grew cooler, and he found the feeling was completely acceptable. The feel of her skin was comforting, her flesh yielding and warm. Should she fall asleep against him, he wouldn’t wake her, preferring platonic body contact to the loneliness of his own bed.

“I think she has a thing for you.”

“Hmm?”

“She didn't know it was your birthday until Naruto mentioned it today. And I don't think she usually makes unrequested deliveries, even for birthday boys. Her visits to the Hokage's mansion keep her busy enough, I've heard. Three times a day, minimum.”

“Maybe Naruto asked her to stop by.” Kakashi scratched the back of his head as he searched for a more likely explanation. “I'm with you. The ramen there is acceptable, but it's the quiet of the place that I like.”

“I bought cake,” Sakura stated abruptly as she cleared the table, not allowing him to bus his own bowl. “Good thing I didn't try to bake it, huh?”

“I'm sure it would have been fine. Although the truth is, I'm really not too fond of it.”

“Pie?” He shook his head in response.

“Cookies?” Another negative.

“Pocky? Milky? Kompeito?” A line creased Sakura's forehead as she registered this new information. “Well, I hope you'll humor me, then, and at least have a bite of dessert. Seeing as I worked so hard to...uh...purchase it.”

He smiled, both pleased and relieved that her previous good mood had returned. “As long as there are no candles.”

“Feeling old?”

“Yes, actually.”

“How old are you really?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Ancient!” The teasing glint in her eyes was charming.

“You're not helping.”

“Thirty-two is not old.”

“Says the expert on all things age related.”

“Tsunade hadn't even perfected her genesis rebirth jutsu at age thirty-two. And didn't Jiraiya publish his first novel when he was thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six. I guess you've got a point.”

“Wait right here.” Sakura flipped the wall switch as she hurriedly left the room, casting the space into relative darkness.

“Just one candle, okay?” Her face was lit from below by a solitary flame as she returned to the room, its lemon-orange flame sputtering and fizzling like an errant firecracker. She looked almost elfen in its shadowed, golden glow. “I won't sing to you.”

He half pouted in response, but she didn't seem to notice, as her words continued in an unbroken chain.

“I know that would be too much for someone as antisocial as you. Here. I know you won't say no to this.”

She set a small cupcake in front of him, earning a frown from him.

Kakashi He hastily blew out the candle and pushed it back towards her. “Sorry.” He really was. He hated to turn her down.

“Why?”

“I'm allergic to chocolate. It gives me migraines.” Horrible, multi-day ones, the type that were preceded by weird auras and sparkling lights. The type remedied only by pitch dark and unabated silence. He felt bad. Had it been vanilla, he would have choked it down, despite his dislike of dessert.

“Oh.” She deflated, her good cheer slipping away as quickly as the helium from a punctured balloon. “I'm two for two, tonight. Dinner was supposed to be your present.”

“It doesn't matter, Sakura. And tonight isn't supposed to be all about me, anyway.”

“It's not?”

“We have something else to talk about. You.”

“Me?”

“Your growth in the past two months has been considerable. Wouldn't you agree?”

Sakura nodded. “I'm most proud of my genjutsu. Tricking you like I did last week was something I never thought I'd be able to do.”

He hadn't thought so either. But she'd somehow found out about his most secret fear-- spiders-- and cast a genjutsu so effective that he'd had nightmares for the past week She'd played him perfectly. They were sparring, and she'd put him on the defense, causing him to retreat into a darker area of the woods. The illusion was seamless: he was still unable to determine where the real woods had ended and the genjutsu ones had begun. And the spider webs: she'd made them drapey but sticky, the type that stubbornly refuse to be removed from ones hair and skin. He still shuddered at the thought of them, and at the large, glistening-eyed beasts that had emerged next.

“You're well on your way to becoming a master. You've already surpassed me.”

He noted the glow of pleasure on her cheeks.

“And that's not all, of course. Your defensive moves are superb.” He didn't mention her self esteem. That had been boosted, as well, and not incrementally. She knew she was good, now. It wasn't just talk anymore.

“Why are we talking about all this?”

“I said we needed to celebrate. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?”

Sakura eyed him shrewdly. “You're saying that your 'mission' is over.”

“In a matter of speaking, yes. You're ready to go back to work, you're sleeping better, and you're...happy, right?”

“Yes. I am.” She looked at him carefully, as though sizing him up. “The thing is...”

“Hmm?”

“I'll miss you.”

“I'm not going anywhere. We're friends, aren't we?”

She nodded, eyes closed, and she didn't resist as he pulled her into a hug. It was uncharacteristic of him to do so, but over the past couple of months he’d ended up doing many such things. He'd learned to go with the current, doing whatever was needed to bring Sakura around. And it had worked, so he couldn't complain. And right now, it seemed she needed to be embraced.

“I'm going to shower.” She pulled away from Kakashi hastily, surprising him.

“So early?” It was barely seven o'clock. She usually stuck around for a while, finding plenty to chat about.

“Long day.” Sakura grabbed a bag from the kitchen before heading to the small bathroom they shared.

She was in there for a while, long enough for Kakashi to clean up the dinner dishes and tackle the charcoal- and grease-encrusted pans that sat in the sink. Sakura would have a fit if she caught him, but she typically took her time showering. If he finished before she was done, she wouldn't be able to push him aside and insist on doing the task herself.

“Hey.”

He hadn't realized she'd come into the room. Her hair looked unusually radiant under the harsh fluorescent light, a paler pink than usual, and he noticed she hadn't washed it, instead pulling it back into a loose, wispy chignon. He raised an eyebrow. She typically washed it daily, and they'd both settled into a nightly routine where he combed her freshly shampooed, still tangled hair. He would miss that habit, he realized. It was nice to touch another human, even what that touch was purely platonic.

Her robe was different too, he noticed, a perfect olive green sprinkled with amber and rust leaves. It was probably new: he detected the faint, sickly sweet aroma of formaldehyde sizing, although it was hard to confirm. She'd put on fragrance after bathing, which obscured the baseline scents he was used to.

“You shouldn't have done the dishes.”

“There weren't many.”

“That's not the point. I already feel bad about not giving you a gift.”

“Don't. It's completely unnecessary. Besides, when have I ever gotten you anything?”

She shrugged in reply, then bit her lip as though working up the nerve to tell him something.

“I was wondering...”

Kakashi waited for her to continue, picking up a dishcloth to wipe the night's dishes. There was no point in making her anxious by staring at her-- if she had something to say she'd tell him eventually. And he might as well make himself useful while he was waiting.

“Come with me,” she said finally. The pink-haired kunoichi led him into the living room and proceeded to close the wooden blinds that half hid the darkening sky.

Curious. He always left them open, and had wondered many times why his mother had gone to the trouble of dressing the windows. The living room looked out over the city, too high above it and far away for anyone to glean a view of its occupants.

She turned toward him as she removed the single barrette that bound her hair, and when she shook her head, smooth pink waves cascaded around her.

“I...I've been wanting to give you something else.” With a smooth motion, she released the knot securing the tie of her robe. The garment parted like a heavy curtain, revealing her nakedness. After a simple shrug of her shoulders, the robe lay in a silken puddle on the floor, and she stood before him like a sacrificial offering, the room's sole lamp lighting her form so that it dominated the room, like an alabaster goddess on display in a darkened studio.

“Sakura...”

“I was hoping... that you could show me what it feels like to be...I can't think of anyone else that I trust enough to...” She paused. “But it would be a gift, too, wouldn't it?”

Kakashi stared at the beautiful kunoichi he'd known for years, unable to avert his gaze. She was simply gorgeous, her body even more toned since the last time he'd seen her unclothed, and much more relaxed than it had been on that eventful night. Her breasts were heavy and full, curving in gorgeous velvet teardrops against the smooth, taut skin of her torso. The arc of her hip was equally enticing, along with those legs that seemed unrealistically long. She was absolutely luscious, and he hated himself for recognizing this simple truth. The copy ninja forced his eyes closed, and willed the blood rushing toward a certain extremity to divert itself back onto its rightful course. It was wrong to think about her in that way. Their relationship had nothing to do with lust, or love, and everything to do with trust. His role was to be a friend to her, a colleague, a mentor. Or maybe a brother. Not a sex partner. Never that.

He'd never thought of her that way, and he was embarrassed that the sight of her naked body had incited his own to rebel. She was as gorgeous as the mythical Junko of Jiraiya's Icha, Icha series. Her curves might have been drawn by an artist even more talented than he. She was like a ripened fruit, just ready for plucking, promising juicy, lustful satiation to anyone lucky enough to take a bite. Her skin would feel like satin against his own, and he had no doubt that her lips would be firm yet supple under his

He was doing it again. He willed himself to stop, willed his body to bind up the excess testosterone flowing through his veins.

“I can't, Sakura.” He whispered these words, hoping to lessen their impact, and for a moment he thought she hadn't heard. He opened both his native and Sharingan eyes to search her face, worried about her reaction. The look he saw in her eyes was familiar, a pleading expression he'd had the misfortune to witness on many occasions.

“Don't you--” she said finally.

“You're beautiful,” he interrupted, certain of her unsaid words. “It's not that.”

“Then what is it?” Her incomprehension turned quickly to extreme disappointment. She looked as though he had slapped her: her cheeks burned red as though they wore his hand's impression.

Kakashi stooped to pick up her robe, and handed it to her silently, averting his gaze from her perfect body and more importantly from eyes he was sure were staring at him accusingly.

“I don't...”

--see you that way, he wanted to say. But she'd misinterpret. She would take it as a rejection of her, not of the circumstances.

“It wouldn't be right,” he said, finally. “We have a work relationship. And you're--”

“You just said this mission was over. That we're celebrating my success. You're not my sensei anymore. So what's the problem?” Her voice rose in pitch, and increasingly tightened around her words like a fist around a kunai.

“Sakura, please.” Kakashi's eyes searched her face, and he hoped she might still be within reason. She seemed to slip so quickly into anger, and once that occurred, no amount of logic would sway her.

“That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard! No one cares about things like that. No one. Why would you?” Pain flashed across the kunoichi's face as she continued. “I get it. It's not that. Not at all. You just don't want to tell me the truth.” She pulled her robe around her tightly, cinching the sash with a sharp pull.

The show was over, at least, the curtains drawn on the evening's prime attraction.

But she'd mentioned “the truth”. Which truth was she speaking of?

“You're a hypocrite. I've seen your medical records.” Sakura's eyes flashed, and Kakashi was relieved to recall that her chakra affinity was to the earth. Who knew what her fury might accidentally unleash otherwise-- a gale force wind, an electrical storm, tsunami or wildfire. An earthquake he could handle.

“Damn it. I thought you cared about me.”

“I do care about you. What are you talking about?” The copy ninja racked his brain as he considered his long and checkered history within the walls of Konoha's hospital.

“You lied to me. You said I wasn't--” Sakura choked up, her anger getting the best of her. She turned away from him, and stormed off to the guest room. Her room. The door slammed with certainty, and Kakashi knew with equal assurance that it would be a mistake to talk to her now.

It hit him, then. His medical records. She must have read about the aftermath of his encounters at some of the nation's lesser quality brothels, that he'd contracted diseases far worse than the simple case of gonorrhea she'd suffered.

Shit.

And his hypocrisy? She assumed he thought she was dirty.

What a way to end his birthday. Being propositioned by his former student-- a girl of only seventeen, despite her sensual, adult body and matching occupation-- was not something he'd seek out on any occasion, let alone one that was supposed to be the year's most special. The funny part was, he hadn't even considered this when he rejected her. It was easy to forget her age: she didn't look like a teenager. But she was below the age of consent, and still not old enough to drink. That, and her occupation placed her in a nebulous limbo between child- and adulthood.

But she was much more mature-- much more grown-up than he was at that age, despite the fact that he was in ANBU and much practiced at taking lives by then.

Kakashi sighed as he realized the implications of their conversation. She must hurt terribly. Injuring her in any way was something he'd never wanted to do. He'd been so careful to build her up over the past couple of months, but with a word he had crushed her. Worse, he didn't believe what she assumed he did. How could she be any dirtier than him? Disease was an occupational hazard, just like the ubiquitous cuts and bruises every shinobi suffered. There was no stigma attached-- not in their world. At least he'd thought not. She must see him as more vile than the oozing bacterial cultures she encountered in the laboratory, and certainly more nauseating.

The copy ninja adjourned to his bedroom and flopped down on the bed without bothering to undress. He felt the strength-draining sensation of defeat he'd experienced few times in his career. He wondered if he'd undone all that he'd accomplished. A single conversation might result in the edifice he'd painstakingly built tumbling down, as though its keystone had been recklessly pulled out.

But it might not be too late. Sakura was stronger than that-- too tough to let a small misunderstanding destroy her rebuilt psyche. She'd listen to him tomorrow, he decided. He'd corner her if necessary, and explain just how wrong it would be to embark on that kind of relationship. He'd make her understand. She hadn't been around as long as him, and couldn't see the nuances of their profession, or the need to keep things above board, if only for the civilians' sake. He'd make her see that she wasn't the cause of his rejection. It wasn't her, and unlike the clichéd excuse commonly used during break-ups, it wasn't him, either. It was their situation. That was all. And while unfortunate, it was reality. She'd have to accept it. Life was unfair sometimes, terribly unfair. But there was nothing one could do about it. She would need to accept that and move on, just as he had accepted the ill-fated happenings that life had thrown at him.

Kakashi extended his chakra slowly, allowing its tendrils to reach into the room next door and ascertain that Sakura was okay. She appeared to be sleeping: the energy emanating from her was stable, its intensity ebbing and flowing like the steady, small ripples on an ocean becalmed. The copy ninja sighed in relief. She wasn't crying, or working herself up into some hyper-emotional state. That was good: she'd be easier to reason with in the morning.

He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, suddenly aware of how tired he was. It had been a long two months for him as well, filled with the care and anxiety he always felt when trying to figure out how to meet one of his student's needs. He'd experienced it first with Sasuke. Kakashi had struggled to find the solution to the boy's constant anguish, bestowing him with the jutsu he'd shared with no one else, and taking him off to the mountains to train so that he could instill in the Uchiha some of the characteristic traits of the shinobi way-- traits that the boy seemed to be missing. Those efforts were in vain, but Kakashi learned from them. And when it was time to work one-on-one with Naruto, his teaching was both better planned and executed. That boy had learned in leaps and bounds, and as his teacher this had been most satisfying to Kakashi, despite the challenges inherent to teaching a student of Naruto's caliber. There was nothing like a successful lesson-- a lesson that left the student smiling at his or her own achievements-- to make a teacher happy.

With Sakura it was somewhat different. Unlike Sasuke and Naruto, she was a born student, eager to learn and a teacher pleaser. She would do anything to succeed, that is, to reach the goal that her teacher defined as success. But she was full of self-doubt, and this was the challenge Kakashi had wrestled with over the course of her retraining. As a student she had always been extrinsically motivated-- willing to work for the “A” grade, or the perfect score, or the rare words of praise from her Shisou. Even her medical studies carried this tinge of work for others' sake. She'd delved into her studies with an intensity shown by few others, to be sure, but this intensity had sprung from a need to be of use in rescuing Sasuke, not out of an innate love of the subject-- at least not initially. The difficulty Kakashi faced was in changing this orientation,: turning her into a person who worked hard for the sake of her own improvement.

He was sure he had succeeded, positive that Sakura's hard work had been done for her sake, not for his. But now he was no longer certain. Maybe she'd pushed herself only in an effort to please him. She'd offered herself as a gift to him-- an X-rated birthday gift that was not so different from the shiny red apple more commonly offered to people of his ilk. It was easy for a teacher to say yes to such a small gift: a piece of fruit was merely a statement of affection, or at its worst some minor brown-nosing.

But to give herself to him… What was she thinking?

He thought he might understand her reasoning. She'd haltingly put forth a series of half-statements that suggested she was looking for sex done the right way, the way it occurred between good friends and lovers, or even casual acquaintances. In other words, she was looking for sex performed differently than the way she'd experienced it.

Sakura's only exposure to the sex act was one of near-violence. She'd been stoic, doing even more than she had to-- the fact that she'd even contemplated taking on such an assignment was ample testimony to this—but it was clear that she had been devastated in the process. She hadn't experienced the gentle attentions of a man concerned with her well-being and pleasure, someone who recognized that even the best first time could be traumatic, but rather had been the victim of the attention of a man who would better be classified as beast. The memory of his student wincing in pain, then visibly forcing that pain aside made him cringe. She'd been hurt twice: once by the client himself, and another time by the village that had allowed it to happen.

Sakura had a right to a normal sex life, for both personal and professional reasons. Her sexual nature was the last aspect of her psyche that needed to heal before it could rightfully be said that she was well. She'd made huge improvements in the past month, but this was the one arena left untouched. Sex was a key part of adult life, and as a kunoichi, a key job requirement as well. Even if she chose never to use her body in that way again (which would be a wise choice, in Kakashi's opinion), she still needed to be comfortable flirting and enticing the opposite sex. This was a key stratagem used by shinobi-- male or female-- on recon missions, even in the midst of war.

But sexual experience wasn't something Kakashi could give her. He hoped she would understand. She needed someone to love her, to cherish her, to honor her and, for at least a while, to make her the center of his universe.

He most definitely was not the man for this job.

Kakashi awoke to a crashing inside his head and a fierce banging against the door. The first sensation was easy to explain: he'd slept restlessly, finally pulling his blanket over his head as intrusive rays of light began to creep through the windows' slatted bamboo shades. An oxygen deficit was the expected result, but he knew it would resolve itself in minutes. A few minutes of meditation would do the trick.

The banging against the door continued, and Kakashi wondered idly who had made the climb up the bluff so early in the morning. He staggered down the hall and across the living room, and leaning on the door for support as he opened it to a blindingly bright morning sky. That definitely was not the best thing for a headache. He squinted into the morning sunlight, barely making out the silhouettes of the two shinobi standing on his front porch.

“Good. You're already dressed.”

Kakashi blinked as his open eye adjusted to the contrast between the darkened entry and the blazing light outside.

“Get your bag. The Hokage will meet you at the gate.” Kotetsu spoke while Izumo, ever silent, peered over Kakashi's shoulder and into the darkened house.

“What is this about?” Kakashi straightened up to block the view into his living room. What went on in his house was none of the long time secretaries' business. Sakura might be walking around half-clothed. She didn't need any additional gossip circulated about her.

“He's been called away on an emergency. Trouble between the Tea and the Claw nations. Something about a kidnapping. He's been asked to mediate before things get ugly.”

“And me?”

“No idea-- we weren't briefed. He'll give you the details. You should hurry-- he's probably getting antsy.”

“Give me a couple of minutes.”

“No time. The Hokage was adamant about that. Grab your stuff and let's go.”

“Fine.” Kakashi shut the door abruptly, leaving Kotetsu and his partner squinting in the intense morning light.

“Sakura?” There was no answer, but this wasn't surprising. She loved to sleep in late. He didn't bother to check for her chakra-- his head hurt too much for him to differentiate her signal from those of the boys at his door without considerable effort. He hurried back to his bedroom, now fully in mission mode. Slamming drawers open and shut he pulled together the necessary clothing and weapons for a generic multi-day mission, then headed to the kitchen for provisions, but not before checking in on Sakura.

No sounds emanated from her room, and when Kakashi focused beyond his headache to extend his chakra, he was surprised to realize that she was gone. He opened the door to confirm what this sixth sense told him, although doing so was completely unnecessary. His sensory abilities-- all of them-- were finely tuned and never wrong, even when he was suffering aches and pains.

Kakashi sighed as the exhaustion he'd felt the night before returned with inexorable force. The bed was stripped, he noticed, the sheets and quilt bundled upon the center of the bed. Other than that, there was no sign that Sakura had ever spent time in the room. The space was as desolate and dog-oriented as before she'd arrived, the wall lined with the padded baskets a few of the pack used, a pile of bones and sundry amusements in the corner. No stray barrettes or ribbons lay scattered across the dresser, as they had for weeks, and the small bottle of the fragrance she wore was also gone. There was no note, either, although that wasn't surprising. In her anger she wouldn't have wanted to leave one.

He should have realized she'd leave. Their mission was over, after all. He didn't blame her for wanting to be far away from someone who thought of her as trash. Except… he didn't.

The Sharingan user slouched toward the door, defeated. There'd be no time to find Sakura before he left the village, although he was pretty sure he knew where to find her. He'd ask Naruto to delay, of course, just enough to give him time to run to the hospital and back, but he knew the Hokage well enough to know that he'd be frothing at the bit, eager to get started. Right now three nations were depending on him.

Kakashi detoured to the kitchen, and pulled open the junk drawer to retrieve pad and paper. He wrote a brief note and sealed it, although that was probably not necessary. He didn't trust either of Naruto's retainers to deliver the note unread, so he purposefully left it vague.

“Gone on mission,” was all it said. “You misunderstood me. I'll explain when I return.”

Hopefully, he'd return soon. And hopefully, she'd listen.