Fourteen Dates- fanfic

hhmmmmm so nik wanted to read this at school and even though i'm 14 chapters ahead of him, i want to too XD
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3273388/1/Fourteen_Dates

ourteen Dates

Chapter 1– Prologue

“Only about twenty more minutes,” Sakura thought to herself as she leapt gracefully from tree to tree. It was a beautiful, chilly Saturday morning in late spring, the type of clear morning that sometimes leads to an voice of avocation. And he had deep pockets, due to the brilliant success of his Icha, Icha series. Sakura guessed the cottage was not rented cheaply.

Sakura smiled as she jumped down from the trees and walked briskly into the resort. She’d thought of the perfect excuse. Not only that, her eyes had immediately detected her blond-haired friend, who as usual was wearing the rather loud orange jumpsuit that was ridiculously out of place given his career choice of shinobi. “Stealthy,” “user of camouflage,” “spy-like” were words that described shinobi. But not Naruto, of course. He was none of those things, and still one of the best the village had ever produced. He would become Hokage, there was no doubt of that. And he would do it in his own inimitable fashion.

Naruto appeared to notice new eyes on him and looked up, then burst into a run as he realized who was watching him.

“Sakura! You made it!” He tackled her in his enthusiasm, and the two hit the ground with some force, surprising the women and some couples who were on their way to the baths.

“Naruto!” Sakura yelled, and without thinking her fist flew to pound him on the top of his head. She immediately regretted it, although Naruto didn’t care. He expected it of her, not realizing how hard she’d worked over the past few years to rein in her emotions. Flying off the handle did little to gain and keep the trust of patients, and Sakura found her chakra was even easier to control when she was calm. But old habits die hard and Naruto could push her buttons as easily now as he’d been able to do twelve years earlier. Of course, the button-pushing was unintentional. Naruto was still as dense concerning interpersonal relationships as he had been as a preteen, and still as open, and tactless, in expressing his own feelings.

Naruto quickly found his footing and danced around the kunoichi, delight telegraphed by his hyperactive movements. He isn’t much different from that twelve-year-old gennin I once knew, Sakura thought to herself. Taller, more handsome, certainly, but underneath the physical changes he was still the same boy. Sakura stood up, brushed herself off and tuned into her friend’s aimless prattle.

“You’re staying with us, right, Sakura? Not at the inn. Jiraiya had the cleaning staff make up a special room for you. Did you want to take a bath, Sakura? You look a little beat, you know. You work too hard, everyone says that, you know. Even Sasuke, and he hardly notices anything! Are you hungry, Sakura? They don’t have decent ramen at the restaurant here, and there’s no other place within a day’s hike, so guess what! I learned how to make ramen myself. You know, after a while, cup ramen does get a bit boring. Ha! I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, huh? But Jiraiya-sannin has a huge kitchen and it turns out I can cook! I even make the noodles myself, Sakura. Can you believe that? It’s almost as good as the stuff at Ichiraku! I made pork ramen and miso ramen for today, but I can make any type you’d like– just let me know! Sakura? Sakura?” He paused to look at the woman who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get a word in edgewise for quite some time. A look of frustration was evident on her face, and her fists were balled up. Her voice was calm as she spoke, however.
“Naruto-kun, lunch sounds great. I can’t wait to try your ramen.” A broad smile lit up Naruto’s face at these words. “But I can’t stay with you. I’m sorry. Tsunade-kama has me doing a strict routine of meditation before bed, and she was adamant that I be undisturbed. Her orders were that I take a room at the inn.” Naruto looked a bit crestfallen at these words, which weren’t exactly true– Tsunade had assigned her a routine of meditation several years ago, which had worked wonders in producing a calmer, more serene Sakura, but the Hokage had never placed stipulations on where Sakura was to do the meditation. This small lie, however, accomplished Sakura’s objective, to stay as far away from the sannin as possible, whenever she was in a state of undress. Naruto accepted her excuse at face-value, as the kunoichi expected he would. “Naruto-kun, lunch sounds great. I can’t wait to try your ramen.” A broad smile lit up Naruto’s face at these words. “But I can’t stay with you. I’m sorry. Tsunade-kama has me doing a strict routine of meditation before bed, and she was adamant that I be undisturbed. Her orders were that I take a room at the inn.” Naruto looked a bit crestfallen at these words, which weren’t exactly true– Tsunade had assigned her a routine of meditation several years ago, which had worked wonders in producing a calmer, more serene Sakura, but the Hokage had never placed stipulations on where Sakura was to do the meditation. This small lie, however, accomplished Sakura’s objective, to stay as far away from the sannin as possible, whenever she was in a state of undress. Naruto accepted her excuse at face-value, as the kunoichi expected he would. Sometimes it pays to have a friend as dense as Naruto, Sakura thought with an internal snicker.

Sakura decided she didn’t mind paying for her room, which was sure to be fairly expensive, given the look of this place and its idyllic location. She owed herself a vacation and some luxury, after all. Tsunade had reached a level of frustration with Sakura that the pink-haired kunoichi had rarely felt from the Hokage (although she’d witnessed it focused on others). Sakura hadn’t taken a vacation in three years, and the master medic-nin had begun to worry about Sakura’s continued health, should her workaholism continue. She therefore forced this weekend vacation on Sakura, claiming that the scroll she was to deliver to Jiraiya couldn’t wait until lower-ranked chunnin became available. It was clear to both the Hokage and her apprentice that the excuse for this “mission” was one of the lamest both had ever heard, but as it was a “mission,” and Tsunade made it clear that Sakura could not refuse, Sakura had complied, and to her surprise found she was not that angry about being manipulated into a short vacation.

Sakura followed Naruto down a narrow, gravel path that led through a grove of fir trees, laden with unlit ceramic lanterns. This would certainly be pretty at night, Sakura, thought, or if it snowed. The path ended at a small cottage of traditional build. It might be centuries old– it had been made by master craftsmen, surely. This was evidenced by the tightness of the joins in the jutting beams that supported the roof and overhung the porch, and the fact that ropes, not nails were used to bind the beams together.

Naruto slid the door open and called out. “Jiraiya-sannin? She’s here!”

As Sakura’s eyes adjusted to the dim room she entered, she saw the pervert S-class shinobi. His mane of snow-white hair reflected the small amount of light in the room, and his face looked rugged, not wrinkled in this atmosphere. He was quite handsome for a man of his age and Sakura wondered idly if he did more than observe when he did research for his books. Tsunade had a love-hate relationship (or more accurately put, a hate-love relationship) with the man, and was sure to pump Sakura for details of the man’s activities when she returned to Konoha. Sakura was suddenly pulled from these thoughts by the belated realization that the sannin was looking at her intently, and she shivered with disgust as the man looked her up and down, then up again, his gaze finally settling just below her neck. Sakura suddenly felt as if she were completely naked, and was thankful she had convinced Naruto of her obligation to stay at the inn, not in this house. She was also thankful that her jounin uniform was not in the least revealing and left an awful lot to the imagination. Of course, with an imagination like that of Jiraiya, that was not necessarily a good thing.

“Lunch, Naruto? I’m dying to try your ramen.” Sakura moved closer to her friend and pushed him gently toward the doorway that led out of the room.

hmmmm it was too big, i have a feeling me and the forum wont be getting along while i'm posting this

“Don’t leave so soon! Naruto, I didn’t realize who Sakura was when you mentioned she was coming for a visit. I had completely forgotten about this vision of loveliness. Tell me,” Jiraiya said with a leer, “have you ever modeled, Sakura?”

Sakura blushed a pink much deeper than the color of her hair, and stuttered, “N-n-no! I’m a shinobi, after all.” She remembered the supposed purpose of this “mission” and fumbled in her pack for the scroll she was to deliver to the sannin. While doing so, she forced herself to breathe and gain control of her emotions. She located the scroll and handed it to the man, who quickly placed it among the folds of his yukata. Apparently he was headed for the baths, given his attire. Sakura noticed a large sketchbook and charcoal pencils on the table before him, and guessed what his afternoon’s activities would be.

“That never stopped my models before. Most of them are kunoichi, also.” He winked at the nonplused woman who had already returned to the doorway, the very farthest spot in the room from the hentai. “I’ve already eaten, Naruto, and I have some things to attend to. See you in a bit.” He smiled again at Sakura as the two jounin left the room and headed for the kitchen.

“I forgot. I have something for you, also.” Sakura pulled out a thick, vanilla-scented letter and passed it across the kitchen table to her friend.

“Another letter from Hinata! She is such a great correspondent.” Naruto smiled as he tore open the envelope.

Baka, Sakura thought to herself. It was clear from things Hinata had mentioned to Sakura over the years that the pale-eyed head of the Hyuugi clan still carried a torch for the knuckle-headed ninja. It was also clear from the expression on Naruto’s face as he said those words that he had yet to realize it. They’d make a darling pair, Sakura thought, trying to read Naruto’s face as he began to read through the letter, lunch forgotten for a moment. He’s not eating, or even thinking of eating. Does that mean...? But no, he was merely distracted, as he often was. After another minute of reading he remembered his purpose in the room (and one of the major purposes in his life) and set to work ladling out ramen into two very large bowls.

“Gohan da yo!”

A great deal of slurping ensued, as Naruto polished off bowl after bowl of the noodle-thick soup. Sakura agreed this was very good ramen, and in her opinion, easily as good as that served by Ichiraku. She told Naruto this, and thought his smile might cause his face to split in two.

After Naruto’s fourth bowl, when he did not appear to be quite as focused on the act of eating as he had been previously, Sakura decided to broach the subject of love interests.

“Have you been seeing anyone, Naruto?”

“Seeing anyone? Well, ero-sennin makes me take a peep every now and then. It’s either that or do the sexy no jutsu for him, week after week...” He blushed in embarrassment, obviously misunderstanding Sakura’s question.

“No, baka, I meant are you dating anyone?”

“No, Sakura. Are you? Hey, are you asking me for a date?” His eyes lit up and sparkled at the thought.

Sakura sighed. She had thought Naruto was over his unrequited love for her. After all, she had finally gotten over Sasuke, and that only took three years.

“No, Naruto,” she said gently. Her meditation practice really was working. She would have pounded him if he’d asked that same question two years ago. “I’m not seeing anyone, and I really have no desire to do so. My work keeps me busy, and I’m good with things the way they are.” Sakura had never really dated, apart from a failed relationship with Sasuke. When Sasuke had returned from his time with Orochimaru and Itachi, with one of his life’s major goals accomplished, he had turned his sights on the girl who had been his Penelope. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he was not in love with her, would most likely never fall in love with her, but that he had the rebuilding of his clan to think of, and she was a suitable candidate to assist in accomplishing this, given her feelings for, and loyalty to him. Sakura, at that point mistaking her obsession with the Uchiha for mature love, had misinterpreted the stabbing feeling in her heart that these words provoked for the feeling of willingness to sacrifice she’d heard love often produces. She gladly dated Sasuke for a while, until she realized it wasn’t love she felt. Though she’d never had feelings for another, she saw this clearly. She’d salvaged her pride by immediately dumping Sasuke and he’d repaid her by going after her sometimes-best friend, Ino. The two had married as soon as they were able, and Ino was now carrying his fourth child. Sakura harbored no hard feelings toward either of them, and after a time, their friendship had resumed, in a slightly altered, and certainly more comfortable form.

“I’m not dating anyone, either.” Naruto’s response to her earlier question roused Sakura from her thoughts. “No one stays around this place long enough to date.”

But that sounds like he is at least thinking of women. This was something new. Sakura smiled as she realized her friend had finally matured to the point where he might find love. “Naruto. What do you think of Hinata?”

“Hinata? She’s a great friend.” He looked at the letter that lay next to his almost-consumed bowl of ramen, and suddenly his face was illuminated. “Sakura? Do you think Hinata...”

“Likes you? Well, duh, Naruto. For twelve years, now. Sheesh. You really are dense if you haven’t figured that out by now.” She very nearly slugged him.

“Maybe I should write back to her.”

“Hasn’t she been writing you pretty regularly? You mean to say, you’ve never replied? Baka!” She did slug him. He really deserved it. That poor girl. She must have the patience of a saint. Or maybe she was slightly obsessed, as Sakura herself had been. It was a lot easier to set your sights on something unattainable than be rejected in ordinary circumstances. And love did carry with it a very high risk of rejection.

“Naruto, does your sensei have a regular schedule for his hentai activities?” Sakura had noticed there were several baths on the premises, as well as a naturally heated spring. Maybe she’d be able to bathe unnoticed if she timed things just right. Sakura realized how sore she was from this morning’s traveling. She didn’t go on enough missions, that was for sure. Her life revolved around the hospital and she realized she just might be getting out of shape. That was something she’d need to address. She’d worked long and hard to become a jounin. She should be putting all of her skills to use, not just the medical ones.

“Well today is Saturday, so ero-sennin’s probably at the main bath. It tends to be the most crowded on weekends. You should be safe if you go to the spring. I can distract him if you like.”

“Would you? You’re the best, Naruto!” Sakura tripped off to the main inn, to find a room and relax for a few hours. Coming here really had been a great idea.

Ooooo...oooooO

Jiraiya knew his student well enough to know that he’d attempt to protect his former teammate’s virtue. He also knew Naruto well enough to know exactly which bath he’d suggest as safest. Naruto was not very observant and therefore wouldn’t recognize that the Jiraiya peering through the bamboo fence at the large bath was a clone. Jiraiya took the form of an elderly woman (who, confusingly, had a very lush, and age-inappropriate coiffure of long white hair) and made his way to the hot spring where he was sure to find Sakura.

He was not disappointed. Sakura emerged from the changing room, her chin-length hair slightly damp from the washing she had done within. She tested the water with her toe, smiled at its luxuriant warmth and with a single, graceful motion, let her white yukata drop on the rocks that lined the edge of the stream. She certainly was lovely, Jiraiya thought to himself as he observed her naked form. One of the prettiest he’d ever had the pleasure to sketch. Certainly as lovely as an old friend had described. He hadn’t used names but it couldn’t have been anyone else who had so smitten his biggest fan. He’d described her startlingly green eyes, wide and innocent, the pale perfection of her unusual pink hair and the glowing ivory of her skin. Yes, he’d been drunk when he’d made this confession several years before, and had seemed disgusted with himself at lusting after a girl who was only seventeen and moreover who trusted him so unreservedly. But he couldn’t help himself from describing to the master storyteller (and more than adequate artist) how perfectly gazelle-like she seemed on her long legs, how her smile lit up her face and made her even more beautiful than before it graced her countenance. How, unbelievably, she was even more stunningly enchanting when angry. And how she was completely unaware of all of this– of his feelings, by purposeful design on her teacher’s part, and of her own beauty. It was very clear that she labored under the misconception that she was plain, if not downright ugly.

Jiraiya hoped the lovely kunoichi before him would linger. He could devote an entire sketch pad to this beauty. And perhaps his next novel, too.

ourteen Dates

Chapter 2– It’s Definitely Time to Head Back Home

She was definitely glad she’d come to the resort. Not just because of the hot, steaming stream in which she found herself. It was great to see her friend, and surprisingly, Jiraiya had kept his distance, seemingly respecting the need the two former teammates had for some time alone. Sakura had spent several hours the day before helping Naruto write a letter to Hinata. With his characteristic unbounded enthusiasm, Naruto had decided Hinata was definitely someone he wanted in his life, but as subtlety was not one of his strengths, his letter to Hinata has been somewhat...crude. After lecturing Naruto on what it is that girls really want, and what they tended to expect in a suitor, Sakura had severely edited the words Naruto had put on paper. In truth, the final version of the letter contained almost her words entirely. But Naruto was very pleased with it, and Sakura had told him she’d be more than pleased to carry it back with her the next day.

Sakura and Naruto had taken the opportunity to spar that afternoon and this morning. Naruto had held back, as Sakura was no match for him even when in the best of physical shape, but even so, she had quickly confirmed that indeed she had some work to do if she wanted to remain a jounin-quality shinobi. The thought was depressing, but more depressing was the idea that she’d allowed her skills to slip. Her body was sore, as sore as she’d been as a twelve-year old after the first few training sessions as gennin, with the sadistic, yet strangely lovable Hatake Kakashi. However, unlike the training sessions twelve years ago, today relief had been only a few footsteps away. The natural stream flowing from the hot spring had been widened and deepened years ago to accommodate a bathing hole of sorts, and flat rocks had been placed along its inner walls to serve as benches. Sakura relaxed on one of these, stretching her legs along the bench and leaning back on her elbows so that as much of her body as possible was covered by the steaming water. This was truly bliss.

How strange that no one else was here, except for the elderly artist she’d seen at this site yesterday. This was easily the most lovely spa Sakura had ever visited, and she felt completely at home here. The smell of fir was intoxicating. Its pungent odor was everywhere– even the water was fragranced by the needles that fell on its surface and swirled in its eddies. Perhaps village dwellers didn’t appreciate nature as much as she did, Sakura mused. As a shinobi she was quite an accomplished outdoorsman, and she relished the freedom that was represented by the running water and trees surrounding her. Or maybe the bathers at the more typical large pools closer to the inn were closet exhibitionists. They’d have to be, assuming they knew Jiraiya was watching. They must know he was watching– they’d certainly feel the eyes of the ero-sennin upon them. That feeling was unmistakeable.

Sakura sat up and stretched her arms over her head, then draped one over the wall she was leaning against. She felt eyes upon her, of course, but it was only that sweet-faced elderly woman she’d seen yesterday. Sakura noticed her long, thick hair, and hoped that hers would be as thick and full when she approached that age. Apparently the woman was working on a series of studies– she’d gone through quite a few pieces of paper in the last hour, and although Sakura couldn’t see her face at the moment, the position of the old woman’s body showed she was clearly engrossed in her work. Sakura stood and pushed off the bench, dog paddling to the center of the pool. It was too deep for her to be able to stand, so she took the opportunity to float on her back for a while. The high mineral content of the water made her slightly more buoyant than normal, and Sakura was amused that more of her body floated above the waterline than usual. The day was slightly colder than the previous, and her flesh reacted to the difference between the temperature of the water and the rather nippy air. It was then that Sakura heard a strange sound– sort of a gasping choke, and Sakura flipped over, treading water as she tried to locate the source of that noise.

It was the sweet faced elderly woman, Sakura immediately saw. And she had... a nosebleed? Quite a nosebleed. Did she have some type of clotting disorder? Sakura quickly climbed out of the pool, grabbed her yukata and ran to the woman. Her medic skills would come in handy, it seemed. But Sakura was surprised to see the woman grab her art supplies and run, much faster than she would have guessed a woman of that age could manage. The woman’s mane of long white hair trailed behind her, and Sakura suddenly realized that she had been had.

Furious, Sakura ran back to the changing room, grabbed her clothes and dashed after the hentai. She should have known he’d try something. The way he’d looked at her when she’d entered his home should have told her this. Though she’d soaked in the spring for the past two hours, Sakura felt more dirty now than when she’d arrived at the spa. Dirty as only the ero-sennin could make a person feel. What she would do to him! She fumed as she pushed chakra to her bare feet, barely feeling the fir needles that cushioned her path.

He made it to the cottage first, of course. He wasn’t an S-ranked shinobi for nothing. Sakura pounded in after him, her face cerise, her eyes flashing, nearly knocking down Naruto as she did so. The door to his room was western-style, unlike the other doors in the cottage, and Sakura quickly saw the reason for this. It was locked with a deadbolt that was undoubtedly fortified by some jutsu. Sakura considered breaking the door down. Tsunade had shown her the secret to enormous strength, and a door would require little more than a tap from Sakura’s now expert fingers.

She restrained herself, however, and moved to the living room to collect her wits. Naruto was waiting there, eyes wide. Even he had put two and two together. The clone Jiraiya was not as good a conversationalist as the real thing. This hadn’t been apparent while they were stationed outside Jiraiya’s favorite peephole at the bath, as their usual conversation was a series of grunts, but as they’d walked back to the cottage together for a light snack of ramen Naruto had realized finally that something was wrong. Jiraiya-clone kept remarking about the weather. “Do you think we’ll get a late snow?” he’d asked enough times for Naruto to clue in. Naruto was smart enough to play dumb about this realization, however. Better to let Sakura think he was a complete idiot than bear even a portion of her wrath.

“He was there the whole time, Naruto! Both baths! And I was so stupid, I didn’t even realize it was him! The man is so vain he didn’t even change his hair, and I’m so damn inobservant that I didn’t even notice. Some jounin, huh? I even waved to him yesterday! Arrgh!” Sakura smashed the kontatsu in front of her, then looked around the room for something else to destroy. Naruto quickly ducked out of her way, and hurried down the hall to talk to his sensei.

Jiraiya emerged, a bit shaken, from his bedroom/fortress. He had forgotten Sakura was a student of Tsunade. He was really in for it, he realized, if not from the woman in front of him, then from the woman he’d loved all of these years. He’d felt he’d been making some progress of late. The scroll Tsunade had sent him as Sakura’s “mission” had been no more than a friendly letter– much more friendly than in years past . She’d devoted several lines to times they’d shared in the past and she’d even hinted about spending some time together in the near future, with the excuse that she’d heard great things about the resort and a nearby casino. But the bird in the hand often caused Jiraiya to ignore the one in the bush, and this was certainly the case here. Like his student, Jiraiya was not known for his impulse control.

Jiraiya looked at Sakura sheepishly, and the woman was struck by the truly apologetic look on his face. “I beg your forgiveness, Sakura-san,” he said meekly. “I really should know better. It’s just that you have been spoken of so highly by...your admirers.”

Sakura whirled around to look at Naruto. Had he been discussing her in graphic detail with his sensei? For once, Naruto appeared to read her thoughts. The terror on his face and violent shaking of his head told her, that no, he hadn’t been discussing her. He was too protective of her to do that, anyway. What was the old man talking about, then?

She noticed the hentai was holding a sheaf of paper, which he quickly handed to her as she approached.

“These are yours,” he said. “Could we keep what happened between us?”

Sakura did not answer. Instead she walked outside and examined them. The first few pages were studies of her face. She saw that she had been smiling, eyes closed, head leaned back, utterly relaxed and unaware. That was strange. These pictures were not what she’d expected. She’d predicted the man would focus on other attributes of her physique. As she turned to the next pages, her prediction was confirmed. There she was, completely naked of course, stretching, floating, and in some other poses she did not recognize, and most definitely had not demonstrated. Sakura’s cheeks flamed anew as she performed a minor jutsu to set the papers alight. She dropped them and watched them burn to ashes, then returned inside with a small smile on her face.

“You’re afraid of Tsunade-sama, aren’t you, hentai?” Sakura asked quietly, already knowing the answer. She’d never heard of Jiraiya behaving so meekly before, and she was aware from Tsunade’s stories that though many years had passed since they’d worked together, he was still somewhat enchanted by her. “I probably should have kept those to share with her. I think the unvarnished truth will be enough, though. She has a good imagination.” Sakura smiled a sweet, false smile and looked into Jiraiya’s eyes.

“What will it take for you not to tell?” She had him on the ropes, that was clear.

“I don’t know.” She thought for a moment, and her eyes gleamed as she realized the power she now had over the man. “You now owe me a favor. Absolutely anything I want that doesn’t involve bodily harm. I’m not sure when I’ll call it in– it could be today, next month, a few years from now, but whatever I request you’ll do for me. Gladly and without hesitation. Understood?” She’d never thought she would use that tone of voice or form of address with a man so clearly her superior. But he deserved it, and she found she couldn’t resist.

“Hai.” He seemed relieved, Sakura noticed. Should she have asked for more?

“Well, then, is there anything you’d like me to take back to Konoha? It’s definitely time to head back home.”

“Just a moment, Sakura-san.” Jiraiya hurried back to his room and shut the door. He found the scroll he’d prepared in reply to Tsunade’s then spent a moment flipping through the rest of the sketches he’d drawn in the past two days, a contented smile on his face. He’d only given the worst ones to Sakura. He’d wait until he’d fulfilled the favor before publishing these. He already had some ideas, though, about the story he’d be writing. He might even have enough ideas for a new series, focused on the exploits and sexual escapades of a beautiful pink-haired kunoichi. He’d call it Icha, Icha Goddess.

Sakura was glad to leave the resort and moved quickly through the forest, figuratively shaking the dust from her sandals. She’d have three deliveries to make once she made it back to Konoha. Her first delivery would be the letter for Hinata. Sakura couldn’t wait to see the expression on the pearl-eyed beauty’s face once she realized that her Naruto-kun had actually responded to her letter. Sakura giggled aloud, forgetting the need for quiet while traveling alone. The second delivery would be the scroll Jiraiya asked her to give to Tsunade. Normally this would be the most important delivery, but Sakura would be arriving back in town one day early, and did not care to incite a lecture from her sensei punctuated by the sounds of another wooden desk cracking. The third delivery had been thrust upon her by Jiraiya, who’d come running after her as she made her way through the resort’s gates. It was a brown paper-wrapped package, presumably a book, and the recipient was to be Hakate Kakashi, her former sensei. She’d deliver it whenever she saw him, which wasn’t likely to be anytime soon. Kakashi no doubt would be happy to receive the package, though. It was probably the latest Icha, Icha book. Jiraiya had spoken about a book tour he’d be starting soon, so a new volume must have been published recently.

Sakura hadn’t thought about Kakashi in quite some time. Now she found herself preoccupied with him. It had been months since she’d last seen him, and then only in passing. They’d crossed paths near Tsunade’s office, he returning from one of the solo-missions he’d come to specialize in after leaving teaching years ago, and she just leaving Tsunade’s office, laden with scrolls containing medical jutsu to be memorized by morning. She could see the smile in his eye as she’d struggled not to drop the collection. Of course he hadn’t offered to help. It was obviously much more amusing to him to watch her struggle. She’d glowered at him, and pushed past him to her office. She’d almost made it to her desk when the scrolls began to slide out of her grasp, in a tiny avalanche. Sakura had groaned as she dropped to her hands and knees to collect the scrolls. Several had rolled under her desk.

“You know,” a soft baritone voice had said, “all you had to do was ask.” Sakura pulled her head out from under the desk and looked up to see her former sensei leaning casually against the door frame, hands in pockets in usual, slightly slouched. Sakura glowered at him again, and he laughed.

“You were always my favorite student, you know. I’d do anything for you, Sakura-chan.” Sakura’s face became flushed, then, not by his comment, but by the realization that he’d certainly gotten a very clear look at her upturned rump as she’d searched under the desk for the scrolls. She looked down at her shoes as she tried to lose the blush that stained her cheeks.

“I see you’ve retained your unique brand of humor, Kakashi.” She’d left off the honorific. A pervert like him hardly merited it. But then she’d looked up and noticed he was no longer there. He’d made some sort of half-hearted effort to interact, and left in the middle of it.

That, in a nutshell, described the quality of interaction she’d had with Kakashi, ever since first meeting with him. From day one he’d expected things of Sakura and her cohort that he was unwilling to give himself. He’d asked them to describe their “likes, dislikes, dreams for the future,” while steadfastly refusing to do so himself. He’d encouraged their prompt rising while on missions by banging a spoon against a pot just next to their ears, yet he’d arrived late to just about every appointment he’d ever made, including those with the Hokage.

That hadn’t prevented Team Kakashi from growing close. Certainly, Naruto and Sakura had grown close over the course of their training with Kakashi-sensei, and Sasuke had come to tolerate Naruto and feel protective of Sakura (in a cold, brotherly way, of course). But surprisingly, the three students had grown fond of their hard-ass sensei and it seemed, sometimes, as though he’d grown fond of them. During their very first mission, he’d said he’d give his life to protect them, and although that was to be expected of a shinobi, it had meant something more when he’d said it. There had been conviction in his voice.

Sakura had felt it the worst when the team disbanded. Sasuke had left over Sakura’s bitter tears to hunt down his brother, and Naruto was apprenticed to Jiraiya. Although Sakura had Tsunade as her new sensei, she hadn’t adjusted well at first to the absence of her former team, and Kakashi had taken to stopping by to chat whenever he was in town. Of course, it wasn’t really chatting, not on his part. It was more of a one sided-conversation in which an energetic teen babbled on and a somewhat jaded twenty-something-year-old hid his nose behind a smutty orange-covered book. They were closer, though. They took to sparring once a week (assuming he was around) and occasionally had lunch together. She’d confided in him when Sasuke came back, with the terrible news that she realized she didn’t love him and possibly never had, and Kakashi had been like an older, wiser brother to her, gently mocking her Sasuke-related behavior over the past three years, yet also providing support. He was the friend she desperately needed, now that Ino had taken her place in Sasuke’s life. Kakashi never volunteered anything about himself in their conversations, and would skillfully evade her questions about his life, but nonetheless, he was there for her.

Then her parents had died. Her parents were shopkeepers and their clothing store was one of the most visited in Konoha. Sakura had sometimes wondered if Ino’s friendship was at least partially based on the fact that Sakura’s parents supplied her friend with clothes at a steep discount, and sometimes free. Her parents had been surprised, but supportive when Sakura informed them at age six of her intent to become a shinobi. They’d been expecting a girl’s girl, the type to wear frilly clothes and curl her hair. The type that charmed the socks of her dad and played dress-up with mom. Sakura, despite her girlish pink hair, was none of these things, although Ino did her best to draw if forth from her. Sakura had tried her best to learn ikebana, to know which flowers went best together and what each one meant. She did this even though she was more interested in taking a flower apart to see how it worked than in arranging it in a vase. Sakura had tried with all her energy to be the type of girl her mother and father wanted. And really, she was partially successful. Sakura’s mother had been thrilled when her daughter went through what she called her “boy crazy” phase. (Her father had been more tolerant than most.) Sakura had finally developed an interest in something other than jutso. She giggled, she talked (and sometimes yelled) on the phone for hours, and she let her mother paint her nails. They’d have ladies’ days together, spending the morning at a salon and the afternoon shopping for fragrances and makeup. They redecorated her room in frilly pink. Ino approved. Sakura’s mother could certainly annoy her mother (all mothers of teenagers have this inherent capability), yet Sakura and her mom also had fun together. Her mother was eager to hear all about her raven-haired love interest, eager to be a part of her life, a part she could relate to. But by age fifteen, Sakura had grown out of this phase (which was more accurately referred to as her “Sasuke” phase) and had gone back to being the athletic, determined, competitive tomboy she had always been. As a result, she and her parents had grown apart.

When Sakura came home from a month-long mission to find her parents’ store burned to the ground, she had screamed and wept. Kakashi, once again, stayed by her side. He had held her as she cried, listened to her describe the guilt she felt at not being able to say goodbye to her parents as they lay in the burn unit of the hospital, at the fact that she hadn’t spent more time for them, and hadn’t been the daughter they’d hoped for. He’d allowed her to rage on against the injustices of life. He’d been silent, but steady, aloof but present, and he had gotten her through what was easily the worst time of her life. He’d even hugged her a few times, and brushed the tears from her face.

And then he’d disappeared. He’d taken two year-long missions, Sakura learned, back to back, without so much as a goodbye. She’d loved him a friend. He’d seemed to feel the same way. So why would he leave her that way?

Kakashi returned from his two year-long trips, but Sakura did not seek him out as she had in the past. They waved as they passed each other on the street, and made idle conversation when they saw each other at the pub favored by shinobi. They bumped shopping carts once or twice. No acknowledgment passed between them of the friendship they’d shared. And I’m fine with that, Sakura told herself each time they crossed paths and shared the briefest of smiles. Now, racing through the canopy, she said it again.

With Kakashi’s sudden departure, Sakura had learned a difficult lesson about autonomy and independence. She took the shinobi code to heart. The life had always seemed glamorous to her before, but now she saw that the major part of a shinobi’s life was loneliness. She was ready made for this work, she realized. She had no one precious in her life anymore. She decided her work would not be first– it would be only. She applied herself relentlessly to her studies, and by age twenty-one it was well known that she had surpassed the Hokage’s skills at healing. She also realized that her emotional nature was a dangerous weakness. She’d heard again and again how easily she could be compromised if the enemy could read her feelings. Finally she understood. But really, the enemy was all around her. No one would learn how she felt.

This was the Sakura that bounded from tree to tree as the light grew weak and the day drew to an end. A different Sakura certainly, than the genin she once was. A strong and mature woman, a jounin, undaunted by life. This Sakura stopped at a stream to quench her thirst, and noticed something strange. A metallic smell hung in the air, faint but discernable. The iron-rich smell of blood bombarded her nose. Sakura quickly withdrew a kunai, and scouted the area around her. She found signs of a struggle, and blood-spattered leaves. She moved into a clearing and stood rigid in shock. Four men lay on the ground. She felt chakra emanating weakly from one, but she couldn’t tell which. She dropped to the ground and rolled over the first body. A kunai had severed his jugular. He’d been dead for at least a few hours– his body was beginning to stiffen. He wore no hitae-ate, Sakura noticed, but he was otherwise dressed as a ninja. Sakura noticed a black mark across his collarbone, and pulled his shirt aside to inspect it. It was a tattoo of a stylized dragon within an isosceles triangle. She memorized the mark and stored it away to analyze later. There was no time for that now. One of these warriors was still alive, although barely so. It was her duty as a medic to save his life, and if he were an enemy, to deliver him to Konoha.

The second man had a gaping hole in his chest. Any tattoo he might have worn had been obliterated by the tremendous force of the attack which felled him. Sakura gulped and her heart raced with fear as she recognized this signature mark of the chidori. Her eyes moved to the third man. He bore the same gaping hole– it was glaringly evident as he’d fallen against a tree, as if to better display the cause of his death. The fourth man was partially hidden under the lowest branches of a lanky, light-starved rhododendron. Sakura pushed branches aside and recognized familiar hair, and a hitae-ate emblazoned with the symbol of the hidden leaf village. As she expected and feared, it was Kakashi.

The weak chakra signature she’d felt was his, although his energy had been consumed to the point that he was close to death. His pulse was nearly undetectable. He’d almost made it back, Sakura realized. They were only ten miles or so from Konoha. His left eye was bleeding, as were his shoulder and thigh. His clothes were saturated with blood and he was unconscious. Sakura quickly set to work, relieved that she hadn’t overdone her sparring session that morning. Thankfully, she had enough chakra to stem the bleeding and strengthen his pulse. She hauled Kakashi through the forest using a fireman’s carry and moved as quickly as she could. The guard at the town wall alerted the hospital staff so that they were ready for her arrival. As Sakura struggled through the entrance, she saw that Tsunade herself seemed ready to take on Kakashi’s care, but Sakura insisted on taking care of her former sensei herself. She found an empty gurney and gently laid her former sensei on it, and ran alongside him as he was rushed into an unoccupied procedure room. She stripped his clothes off, searching for wounds she might have missed during her first, hurried inspection and gently swabbed the blood from his closed Sharingan eye. She let her chakra enter his body, urging his marrow to produce more blood cells, helping his flesh to knit together. She rubbed her hands against his mask and examined her fingers. She saw no sign of blood, and therefore spared him the indignity of exposing his face without his consent. She gently touched his bloody eye and saw it respond to her calming energy. Satisfied that he was okay, she laid a cotton pad against the eye, and wrapped gauze around his head to secure it. Only then would Sakura allow anyone else to touch him.

Chapter 4--Vigil

A/N: These chapter is pretty technical (in a pseudoscientific kind of way). Please bear with me! The others won’t be anywhere near as jargon-laden. And things will start to get interesting soon, I promise!

She’d fallen asleep in the rather comfortable, though patched recliner that stood next to Kakashi’s bed. Oblique rays of early morning sunlight caressed her eyelids and urged her to embrace the day. She blinked awake, a bit groggy and stiff from the position in which she’d slept. The hospital was her second home, however, and Sakura quickly remembered where she was, and stood to inspect her patient. Kakashi was in a coma– this was not news. Overuse of his Sharingan inevitably led to this. His vitals were stable, however, and he looked comfortable. Sakura winced a bit, as she remembered her bearish behavior the day before. She’d clearly intimidated the newest (and unluckiest) medic, who’d been asked to start a catheter and an IV. Sakura had allowed him to insert the catheter, but hectored him mercilessly as he missed the mark several times, while trying to start the IV. Sakura had finally pushed the young medic aside to slide in the narrow tube herself. Not the best way to win friends and influence people, she thought ruefully.

Satisfied that Kakashi was stable, Sakura dashed home for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Before she did so, however, she pulled the paper-wrapped package from her pack and placed it on Kakashi’s bedside table. “Not that you’ll be reading it any time soon,” she giggled. She was glad to see him, she realized. More so than she would have expected.

Twelve hours later, Sakura again found herself in Kakashi’s room. She’d visited him earlier that day, as part of her rounds, but now that she was off work, she’d found that she wanted to check in on him again. She’d requested his medical records earlier in the day, and had returned to her office to find her inbox groaning under the enormous file devoted to the health and upkeep of one Hatake Kakashi. He doesn’t hate hospitals for nothing, Sakura realized as she paged through his file. She was curled up in the same recliner where she’d spent the night, and had commandeered the adjustable table that would have been slid across the bed, were Kakashi conscious.

It was completely reasonable for Sakura to be reading his file. She told herself this as she put together a timeline of his life. Jounin at thirteen, Sharingan eye immediately after his change in rank. That had been an impressive surgery, Sakura thought. She wished she had met this Rin, the medic who had transferred the eye from Obito Uchiha to Kakashi. To rejoin optic nerves was a feat, but to do so in the field was almost unheard of. Rin must have had unparalleled control of her chakra. Sakura continued through Kakashi’s file, shaking her head at the number of wounds he had sustained over the course of his career. She counted over 100 incidents. Considering that Kakashi avoided hospitals like the plague, that was probably only the tip of a very large and deeply submerged iceberg. It was perfectly acceptable to be reading through Kakashi’s file, Sakura repeated to herself. Why did doing so make her feel a bit guilty? She was his medic, after all. It did, of course, give Sakura a slightly better idea of the man who lay quietly next to her, but that was an unintended side effect. Or so she told herself.

Sakura had requested this file for a specific reason. She wanted to see if there was any trend in the comas Kakashi fell into after using his Sharingan. She paged back to the beginning of his file, and drew a notebook and pen out of her pack. Her first knowledge of Kakashi’s propensity to fall unconscious after using his gifted eye had been during their first “real” mission, a few months after he accepted them as genin. After a nasty skirmish with Zabuza, Kakashi had dropped like a stone, and the three twelve-year old rookies had struggled to carry his dead weight back to the home of the bridge builder. Sakura couldn’t remember how long he’d been unresponsive. She’d been too gaga over Sasuke to pay too much attention to her sensei, and at that time she hadn’t shown an interest in medicine. That coma was mentioned in Kakashi’s records, but no details were included. Apparently the copy ninja had not been very forthcoming upon his return to Konoha.

But it didn’t matter. There were plenty of other well-documented incidents of coma, Sakura saw. It had happened twice when Kakashi was only sixteen (What was he like then? she wondered idly), but each time, he’d been out for a day or less. His twentieth year had been pretty rough, Sakura saw. He’d been a member of ANBU then, and apparently had been indispensable. She noted three instances of coma that year, each lasting longer than the previous. This was a bit disturbing. Sakura saw that Kakashi had remained in ANBU until just after his twenty-third birthday. He’d started teaching then, she surmised. Why on earth would he have left something as prestigious as ANBU to become a teacher of twelve-year old brats? She really knew so little about him. She’d heard from Iruka that Kakashi had failed every group of genin candidates that had come before him prior to team seven. Maybe this had been his way of slacking off a bit. He’d probably deserved it. His years in ANBU comprised a full centimeter thickness in the file.

Sakura refocused on her task. She found a total of eleven instances of coma, and she recorded the duration of each. There was definitely a trend here. His last coma had lasted three weeks. Three weeks unresponsive was good for neither body nor brain. Pressure sores might occur, although the staff at the hospital was diligent about moving patients regularly so that oxygen could reach all parts of the body. And with extended periods of unconsciousness, physical therapy was needed to ensure that muscles did not contract. There was also a strong link between the amount of time in a coma and the amount of brain damage that had occurred. The more brain damage, the longer the coma, and the less likely a patient was to recover. Even if the patient did recover, he or she might not retain all of his or her mental faculties.

It might be different for Kakashi, though. His coma wasn’t brought about by blunt force to the head, drugs or any metabolic malfunction that was detectable. It was chakra-related. Kakashi’s Sharingan was always on. Unlike an Uchiha, Kakashi could not turn his Sharingan on and off, hence it drained chakra continually. Kakashi kept his eye covered as a matter of course, and he was well-known for the high baseline levels of chakra his body produced. But using the Sharingan in a battle situation, where he went all out in his attacks, drained his chakra so completely that he stood at death’s door when the battle ended.

Sakura stood and leaned over her patient. She lay her hands on his chest and her chakra gently entered Kakashi’s body, and delicately coursed through his chakra canals. She could feel his chakra as her own encountered it– certainly it was not as strong as it could be, but it was already stronger than that of many healthy ninja she’d examined. One night’s rest had done wonders for him. Another night and his chakra would be back to baseline, she expected.

So how did this relate to his coma? If the extreme and sudden drain on his chakra pushed him into the coma, shouldn’t the restoration of his chakra pull him out? Something else had to be involved. Maybe it had to do with the connection between the Sharingan and his brain. Perhaps the Sharingan was preventing chakra from circulating within his brain, as it normally would. Or perhaps she was totally in left field.

Sakura leaned a little closer to Kakashi and slowly unwrapped the gauze that held the pad over his Sharingan eye. She gently lifted his eyelid and inspected the eye. It looked much better than the night before, but the pad had small drops of still-red blood on it. The eye obviously wasn’t healed yet. Sakura gently placed her palm over the now-closed Sharingan eye, and released small amounts of her chakra into it. The optic nerve was definitely damaged, and the protective tissue around it inflamed. Sakura’s chakra soothed the injured tissue, and provided the energy the cells would need to be able to regenerate. Sakura felt none of Kakashi’s chakra here. She didn’t allow herself to move her own chakra up the nerve and into Kakashi’s brain. Even if she were able to do so, it would be completely disrespectful of her patient’s privacy and would cross the code of ethics for medics. She sighed as she replaced the soiled cotton pad that had covered Kakashi’s eye with a clean, sterile one and wrapped it in place with fresh gauze.

She wouldn’t be figuring things out any time soon. Sakura realized how little she knew about the brain and its workings and resolved to research the topic thoroughly, as soon as time permitted. Her ignorance of the brain was not due to her being a medic. Physicians also understood very little of the reasons for the brain’s behavior. As a medic, though, Sakura’s specialization was repair of injuries. The hospital’s physicians focused more on prevention and treatment of disease. Surgery was not typically within their realm, unless cancer was involved. Chakra manipulation was useless in those situations, and physicians relied on old-fashioned scalpels and sutures to get the job done. A medic might be called in if available to tidy up the wound and promote the healing process, but for the most part, doctors and medics were somewhat territorial. Medics had the higher status, due to the critical role in maintaining the health of shinobi, and also because they were shinobi themselves. Physicians were almost always civilian. But perhaps because of (or despite) the territoriality between the two types of health practitioners, certain areas were overlooked. The brain appeared to be one of these.

Sakura stretched, realizing how tired she was. “You’re quite the mystery, Kakashi-kun.” Sakura’s voice was soft with feeling as she realized just how much she had missed him, and how much she owed him. It would be wonderful if she could find a way to shorten the duration of his coma. She’d feel as if she had repaid him for the time he’d spent consoling and supporting her, years earlier. She also thought it might prolong his life. As a thirty-eight-year-old jounin, Kakashi was an old-timer. Kurenai and Genma were the only other active jounin older than him, Sakura knew. Every day survived while on duty was a gift, and the gift grew more precious as time went on.

There was one other thing to check, Sakura noted. Depth of coma. This also indicated a lot about the potential to come out of the coma, and the likelihood of brain damage. By definition, coma meant a person was unresponsive, that the person couldn’t respond willingly to sensations. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he or she had no reflexes, or couldn’t feel pain. Sakura pulled back the white blanket and sheet from Kakashi’s feet and quickly ran her fingernail across his sole. His foot moved reflexively. A very good sign, she thought, as she grabbed a penlight from her pocket and shone it into Kakashi’s right eye. His pupil constricted immediately, and Sakura noticed that this eye was not dark brown as she had thought, but a very deep, charcoal grey. Sakura grabbed a pack and pulled a senbon from her kunai pouch. She jabbed his upper arm with it. Again, he moved. Another very good sign. Sakura remembered that there had been no response at all the day before, when she’d started his IV. He appeared to be recovering already. She smiled at this realization, and quickly applied chakra to mend the tiny puncture wound she’d created. She grabbed her pack, leaving Kakashi’s open file where it lay. She deserved a good night’s rest and the thought of her own bed was too good to resist.

“Good night, Kakashi-kun,” she said quietly, as she headed to the door. She laughed silently. She’d never called him by that honorific before today. But somehow, it felt right at the moment. Perhaps this was because he was so vulnerable now. She opened the door, but something stopped her from leaving. There was more to the data she’d recorded. Some pattern she’d missed. Her analytical mind wouldn’t rest, she realized, until she examined the data a bit more closely. She might as well stay for a few moments more. She knew sleep wouldnt come until the analysis was complete. Sakura sat down again in the comfortable, worn recliner, and pulled the bedside table closer to her. She sketched out a graph, plotting year versus duration of coma. The pattern she saw did not surprise her. She already knew the comas were increasing in length. She sketched another graph– this time spacing the comas evenly--as first coma, second coma, third coma... She left a blank for the coma team seven had witnessed, that was not recorded in Kakashi’s history. The pattern she saw frightened her. The graph was j-shaped. What that meant was quite simple. Each coma was about one and a half times longer than the previous. The duration of each coma had grown slowly at first, but Kakashi’s most recent comas had been quite long. The most recent one had lasted eighteen days. That meant that this one might last for over a month.

It was two a.m., Sakura noticed, as she glanced at the watch she wore when in medic uniform. Her bed called to her with a siren-sweet song of flannel sheets and down-filled pillows. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She’d rest for a few minutes, then head home. Sleep overcame her quickly.

...o...o...o...

The next day did not start well. She’d woken stiff, cramped and grumpy, and to make things worse, there was only a half-hour until her shift began. She’d trudged down to the medic’s locker room for a shower, and swore as she remembered that her locker did not contain a change of clothes. There was clean underwear, at least. She smirked. At least she’d been spared that indignity.

Her patient load was light today, as there had been no attacks (apart from Kakashi’s) of late, and several of her patients were almost ready to be discharged. Her morning’s work completed, Sakura headed for her sensei’s office.

“Tsunade-sama?” At Sakura’s voice, the stunning, well-endowed sixty-something year old raised her head from an impromptu pillow of paperwork. “My duties are done for today, and I was wondering if you had any new assignments for me.”

“Sakura-chan.” Somehow it didn’t bother Sakura to be addressed this way by her sensei. It was clear she meant no disrespect– quite the opposite, in fact. Sakura did her best not to show this, however. Her emotions were for herself only.

“Thank you for taking on the mission to Jiraiya this weekend. He speaks well of you, you know.” Sakura wondered if the scroll she delivered had been anything other than a mash note. She noticed Tsunade smiling at her. “We’ll talk later about my hentai friends activities. I have two or three medical jutsu you might study.” Tsunade reached in a desk draw to grab them. “But other than that, there’s nothing pressing. It’s nice for things to slow down every now and then, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama. I was wondering, though, what experience do you have with coma?”

“Coma?” Tsunade looked at Sakura shrewdly. “Well, of course, Kakashi has been brought in here multiple times in an unresponsive state, but he’s always pulled out of it after some time. Sadly, we understand so little about how the brain works. I have a few journal articles you might read...”

“Are you aware of any procedures that can be used to shorten a coma? I noticed a disturbing trend while looking at Kakashi’s records.”

“That they’re increasing as time goes on? Smart girl. I knew I was right to let you direct his care.”

“It’s not just that they’re increasing, Tsunade-sama. It’s how they’re increasing.”

“Ee?”

“With each successive coma, the duration has increased by a factor of approximately 1.5. That wasn’t a big deal at first, as his early comas were quite short, but his most recent coma lasted 18 days. If the trend holds, this coma will have him out for over a month. I’m afraid that whatever is causing the coma may also cause brain damage, Tsunade-sama.”

“Well, then, Sakura, your task is to find out as much as you can about therapies related to coma. Use the database. We have access to medical records from Sand and Wind Country. I know that Sand has been experimenting a bit in this area, although their data is very weak and they haven’t shown anything conclusive. Perhaps their work will give you some ideas.” Tsunade rested her hand on her favorite student’s arm. “Sakura, I’m certain that if anyone can help Kakashi, you can. You have my permission to begin any therapy or jutsu that is not forbidden. Check with me first, otherwise. And don’t worry about these medical jutsu.” She pulled the scrolls from Sakura’s arms. “They can certainly wait.

Sakura spent the next few hours in the basement of the hospital. The scroll room’s classification system was a mess, so she enlisted the help of an orderly who had been leaning on his broom.

“Pull any scroll you find with an end label of blue-red-blue or green-blue-blue.” The orderly set to work, glad of the diversion, and Sakura sat down at a computer workstation, and pulled up the hospital’s research database. She lost track of time as she typed term after term into the system with little result. There really was very little information available about comas. But upon typing in “coma stimulation,” Sakura hit paydirt. Here was the research from Sand Country that the Hokage had spoken of. The Sand medics had studied the effect of music on patient recovery from coma. There had been a slight decrease in the duration of comas, and interestingly, most of the patients reported having heard music while they were unconscious. The problem was that some of patients had expressed strong dislike of the music they had heard, which apparently was to the medic’s taste, not the patients’. These patients had actually taken longer to wake from their comas. The Sand medics had also tried shining lights of varying intensity into patients’ eyes. These results were less interesting. It hadn’t seemed to have made any difference. The jury was also out on stimulating the skin. Massage seemed to help some patients and had no effect on others. The same was true for stimulating the sense of taste. Wasabi appeared to elicit a response in almost all patients, but did not effect the length of coma.

Here was something to start with, Sakura thought, printing out the relevant records. The orderly had returned with seven scrolls related to brain function and another three related to the Sharingan, and Sakura gathered these into her bag for some late-night reading. She then headed back upstairs to Kakashi’s side.

Chapter 5–Experimentation

Please note: this chapter is rated T for suggestive language. There’s no actual sex, but suggestive situations.

a/n: Jinrai means “thunderclap,” and Taiheya might translate to “large room or large chamber.” I say “might” because my Japanese is still quite minimal. “Amatsukami” means “heavenly gods.”

Sakura did not make it back to Kakashi’s room as soon as she had intended. As she entered the first floor stair well, she heard signs of a commotion and realized that the slow day she had been experiencing was no longer. The triage area was littered with gurneys. Sakura quickly worked her way to the west end of the room, where the more urgent cases had been moved.

“Sakura-chan! Fancy meeting you here!” Genma, the older shinobi known throughout Konoha (and beyond) for his womanizing ways smiled happily up at her. As usual a senbon was held between his lips. He wiggled it back and forth as they regarded each other. He was pretty beat up, Sakura noticed. A shuriken had lodged dangerously close to his larynx, and there were three kunai embedded in his legs and arm. “Will you be my medic, Sakura? Pretty please? I’ll strip for you if you want. Or you can strip for me... Whichever, I’m easy.”

Sakura rolled her eyes as she inspected the clown before her. “I’ll be right in, Gemna,” she said as he was rolled into a nearby procedure room. She was by his side in a moment, and got right to work. In a single, smooth motion, she removed the shuriken and dropped it into a metal bowl.

“That’s a souvenir, you know. I’ll want that back.”

He certainly was a character, Sakura thought. Most shinobi were stoic when being treated– gritting their teeth or looking away when necessary. But Genma was from a different mold. Nothing fazed his sunny disposition, or his suggestive language. She’d almost closed his neck wound which had been oozing bright red blood, and had to hold him still with her other hand as he continued to attempt to gesture while talking. Finally the wound was closed and Sakura released him, immediately starting to work on the messiest leg wound, quickly pulling the kunai out of his shin.

“How exactly did this happen, Genma? Are you allowed to say or is it classified?”

“It was pretty typical, babe. We were doing reconnaissance along the border and almost walked into an ambush. We high-tailed it out of there, but they tracked us.”

“Who’s us?”

“Anko, Asuma and Kurenai. You know, the old folk. We did manage to take them all down, though.”

“I thought you didn’t like being called old. I remember you slugging Naruto for calling you that.”

“Hell, that was years ago, Sakura. Truth is, I am old now. Just turned thirty a few weeks ago.”

Sakura laughed. “I have your chart right here, Genma. Thirty, my ass.”

“Mmmm.” He craned to get a look at her posterior.

Sakura immediately regretted her colorful language and abruptly changed the subject. “You know, Kakashi’s here.”

“At the hospital? In a bed? Within these walls? You’ve restrained him, somehow, haven’t you. Wow, Sakura, I never pegged you as a dominatrix.”

She nearly swatted him as her face reddened. She leaned over closer to his leg to hide her face. “He’s in a coma, Genma. Nothing else. I was really lucky to come across him, though. If he’d been out there another hour, he probably wouldn’t have made it. His chakra was that low.”

“Where did you find him?” Genma shifted to allow Sakura better access to his thigh, where a kunai had come perilously close to his femoral artery. It was clear he was interested in this story– he had missed a golden opportunity for sexual innuendo.

“About ten miles outside the gates. He’d managed to take out three men before he went down.”

“What did they look like? Anything memorable about them? What village were they from?”

“Tsunade-sama recorded my debrief. You should probably read the report. Now hold still, baka.” She gently pressed her hand against his thigh, at which Gemna gave a small moan of pleasure.

“But the story would be so much more interesting coming from your lips. Speaking of which, how about a kiss? I’m sure it would make me feel better.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, and moved onto the final wound he’d sustained. This kunai had fully pierced through the underside of Genma’s arm. “This will probably hurt a bit. The shaft is embedded too.”

A chuckle escaped Genma at these words, but he remained quiet as Sakura pulled the weapon from his flesh. Perhaps this was how he signaled his discomfort.

“The men didn’t wear hitae-ate. But one did have a distinguishing mark– a tattoo of a dragon within a triangle.” Gemna’s expression changed at these words, although Sakura did not notice, as she was concentrating fully on repairing the damage caused by the blade on its entry and removal. “I’m almost done now. You’ll be right as rain in just a few.”

“Where is Kakashi? And is he allowed visitors?”

“Fifth floor, and yes. I’ve been wondering where you all were. Kakashi has so many friends, but no one has been to visit.”

“I think we’ve all been on assignment.”

“The visit will be good for him, but don’t stay too long, okay?” She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “All done. You’re ready to go, but no missions for at the next three days. By the way, that’s official– I’m marking it on your chart. And Gemna? No ladies for at least a day or two.”

“Well, I guess that rules out the evening of dinner and dancing I had planned for us.” He winked at her.

Sakura laughed. “It’s not the dancing I’m worried about, Genma.”. She was thankful for Genma’s easy-going nature and the fact that his flirtation meant nothing. This was how he was with every member of the female sex. Not that it wasn’t nice to be noticed, and not that she would ever take it further had he been serious, of course. Her work came first, and anyway the man was a walking, talking public health hazard.

“See you soon, sugar!”

It was nearly seven p.m. by the time Sakura made it back to Kakashi’s room, and her shift was almost over. Sakura generally worked later than this however, and still had quite a bit of energy in reserve as she walked into Kakashi’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. She couldn’t help but giggle at what she saw. A paper mustache had been taped just below Kakashi’s cloth-covered nose, and it fluttered gently with his breath. Sakura removed the scrap of paper, as she found she couldn’t keep a straight face while looking at it.

“Kakashi,” she began. “It feels silly talking to you like this, but there is a chance you can hear me, so I’d like to let you know what I’m planning.” Had he been any other patient, she wouldn’t be hesitating to begin his treatment. But this was her former sensei, a man who was most possessive of his privacy. But in a hospital, privacy does not exist. That’s just how it is, she thought. She suddenly realized why Kakashi would rather stitch up his own wounds than visit this institution.

“Well, let me tell you what I’m going to do. There’s a good chance you’ll wake up earlier if your senses are stimulated. So I’m going to do my best to stimulate them.” That sounds like something Genma might say. Sakura blushed, and was glad she’d shut the door behind her. “What I mean is, your body is just laying there right now, and this place is pretty quiet. You feel the same sensations over and over. It’s easy for your mind to tune them out. Different sensations may help snap your brain back into drive, or help it rebuild whatever is damaged or resting or whatever. Honestly, I don’t understand how it might work– no one does yet-- but it does seem to help sometimes. So, your sense of smell, for instance. There’s just one smell around this place– the smell of disinfectant. I plan on bringing in some different fragrances. Things that might be a little more appealing than ammonia and chlorhexidine. Your sense of touch. Hmm. Massage, I guess. I’m pretty skilled at it, you know, and it will help your circulation, too. Last but not least, your sense of hearing. I’d bring in headphones if I had any idea of your musical taste, but honestly Kakashi, I have no clue. You’d think that I might, considering all the time we used to spend together. And I’m certainly not going to break into your apartment to find out. I have a feeling you wouldn’t appreciate that.” She steeled herself to continue. “So that leaves either long, one-sided conversations, like we used to have (which I really don’t think I can do anymore, as I really don’t have too much to say), or reading. Of course, I really don’t have a good idea of the breadth of your literary taste. You’d probably find what I like to read to be absolutely boring, and being bored certainly won’t help bring you out of this coma. I’ve only ever seen you reading one thing– that damn book, in one incarnation or another.”

Sakura sighed, and for a moment considered abandoning this plan of action. She looked at the man lying in bed, most likely oblivious to everything she’d said so far. But there was a chance it might work, and Sakura saw that this chance, however slim, greatly outweighed her own discomfort. She took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’d rather not do this, but I really have no choice. I hope you appreciate this, Kakashi.”

Sakura reached for the paper-wrapped parcel she’d delivered for Jiraiya. “Your hentai author friend asked me to give this to you. I have no doubt what’s inside.” She tore at the wrapping and uncovered an orange-bound book entitled Icha Icha Takutikusu, Volume 12.

“I’m guessing it’s the latest volume and you haven’t read it. That’s good. It will be something new for your brain to digest.”

She opened the book to its frontispiece and read, “To Kakashi, a man of exceptional talents and exceptional taste. May your life be filled with abundance. Jiraiya.”

Sakura smiled. “I guess he really thinks highly of you. Of course, you probably paid for a good chunk that cute little cottage he lives in. Naruto said you own multiple copies of each book. That’s a little obsessive, don’t you think?”

Sakura turned to the first page and began to read aloud.

Taiheya Jinrai had no problem taking what belonged to him.

“That’s a strange name, Kakashi. Is this the main character in all of Jiraiya’s books? Naruto said they were about someone named Junko.” She thought for a moment. “Wait a second.” Sakura pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil and scribbled for a while, then grinned. “Well, this certainly fits the man I met this weekend. ‘Taiheya Jinrai’ is an anagram of the kana for ‘Jiraiya Hentai’. Apparently this book is about him.“ Sakura giggled. “At least he admits what he is.” Sakura picked up the book and began reading again.

Right now, what belonged to him was the sloe-eyed girl who cowered in the corner. She was a virgin, according to her father, and suitable payment for the mission Jinrai had just completed. She looked at him with fear in her eyes as he approached her.

Sakura sniggered. “He takes his payment in women? What century does this book take place in? Somehow, I’m guessing Ero-sennin doesn’t elaborate.”

Jinrai caressed her lips with a touch that was much more gentle than the girl anticipated. Nonetheless, she gave a small cry of fear. Jinrai’s hand moved to her kimono. Slowly he untied the obi and pulled the long cloth from her body. It puddled to the floor with a soft whisper. Jinrai moved his hand along the soft fabric of her kimono. Her breasts responded to his authoritative touch. The girl gave an involuntary shudder as he slipped his hand under the silken cloth. She–

Sakura felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. It was good that her patient couldn’t see her. But “when embarrassed, attack,” had always been a useful tactic for her. “Why hasn’t Jinrai found out her name? Wouldn’t the father share that piece of information with him? I can’t believe you read this stuff, Kakashi.” But Sakura didn’t set the book aside.

She was only sixteen, but well-developed, Jinrai saw, as he pulled the kimono from her shoulders and took a breast in each hand. Her breasts were the size of honeydew melons, ripe and fragrant.

“Honeydew melons? Kakashi, you have to know that no woman wants her breasts referred to as ‘melons.’ Or ‘knockers.’ Or ‘funbags,’ for that matter. I hope that these books haven’t served as your primer for understanding the opposite sex.” Sakura chuckled. “But it would explain things, now that I think about it. No wonder you never seem to have a date. You’ve probably scared them all off. ‘What beautiful melons you have. Like the finest cantaloupes. Can I buy you a drink?’” It was horrible to laugh at Kakashi’s expense, but Sakura couldn’t help herself. If she was going to have to read the book aloud, it was only fair that she share her opinions, too, she rationalized.

His mouth moved to hers and he kissed her tenderly. He felt her stiffen, and then seemingly melt against him. He began to draw away and felt her pull him back to her. She wanted this. She fisted his long, luxuriant silver-white hair, which glistened like platinum in the waning light–

“Fisted? In kunoichi classes we learned a really different meaning–“ Sakura stopped herself. What if he could hear her? She warned herself to be a little more cautious with her comments. There was no way she wanted to discuss the more obscure arts of the kunoichi with her former sensei. Sakura rested her voice for a moment, while she poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher that sat by Kakashi’s bed. She drank greedily. She wasn’t used to talking for extended periods of time and she was getting a bit hoarse. Sakura turned to the next page and breathed in suddenly, nearly choking as water shot down her trachea. She coughed and spluttered at the sight before her.

“Amatsukami! Those aren’t honeydews! They’re– pumpkins? No, not pumpkins, not smooth enough. Watermelons! Round, seedless watermelons. Wow, she must really have back problems. Although, they do seem to be resisting gravity. Hey, maybe this is a science fiction story! Or maybe she used some kind of levitation jutsu. Hmm. But she’d not a ninja, is she? You know, I bet she can’t see her feet.” Is this really what men look for in a woman? Sakura thought as she lowered her chin to gaze at her own chest. She had always felt a bit lacking in comparison with Ino, but this drawing made the two friends look like pre-teens.

Thankfully, the book had not gotten wet when Sakura exploded. Kakashi would have her head, she knew, if she destroyed a signed first edition of his favorite series. If he woke up, that is.

Sakura looked a bit more closely at the other details in the drawing, which now revealed themselves to her, as she got over her initial disbelief. The nameless girl in the drawing was blonde, with shoulder length hair. Her features were classical, lovely. It was clearly Tsunade. Jiraiya’s fantasy version of Tsunade, anyway. Even the well-endowed Tsunade was dwarfed in comparison with her literary counterpart. And the man was clearly Jiraiya. He was drawn in profile and the likeness was unmistakable. Jiraiya was a better artist than she’d realized. Of course, he’d probably drawn himself thousands of times. Jinrai’s body was a bit idealized, too, Sakura noticed. The man Jiraiya had drawn was musclebound, to put it kindly. What exactly was he doing to the girl? Apparently, this drawing depicted a scene Sakura had not yet read.

Sakura slammed the book shut, suddenly feeling the need for a long, hot shower and pumice stone to scrub the smut off her body.

“Kakashi-kun, we’ll continue this tomorrow. Sorry for editorializing.” And she was, for a moment. These books were important to him, for some unexplained reason. Sakura set the volume on his bedside and leaned in to stroke her former sensei’s hair. Interestingly, she noted, it was no more unruly than usual. He probably never brushed it, Sakura thought, as she left his room.

The book was not what she expected. Naruto had given her a three word overview (“lots of sex”), years ago, when he’d first begun training with the ero-sennin. Sakura had taken this to mean descriptions of red-satin sheets and black lingerie, wanton women and animal-like coupling. So far, at least, the book seemed a little different than this. The writing was not as horrible as she’d expected, and Jiraiya used words like “gentle.”

Still, it had been an embarrassing visit. She should have previewed the book first, before deciding to read it to him. But what if she had? There was really nothing else that she was sure would interest the copy-ninja, and she hadn’t lied when she’d told him a one-sided conversation would be impossible. Sakura really didn’t have much to say to him, and it was obvious from his behavior years ago that he didn’t find her worth talking to. They hadn’t really communicated in years, anyway.

It was warm outside, she noticed, and clouds covered the darkened sky. Weather like this signaled an impending storm. Tomorrow is my day off. Of course it would rain. Sakura hurried home. At least a warm, soft bed and a good night’s rest awaited her.

Chapter 6--Icha, Icha Amusement

Please note: this chapter is rated T for suggestive language. There’s no actual sex, but suggestive situations.

Sakura awoke in a better mood than she’d experienced for months. The sun was most definitely not shining, and her apartment had the cold, damp feeling more often felt during rainy fall days, but this did not do anything to change her eagerness to start the day. She didn’t stop to analyze her feelings. Moods like this were hard to come by, and Sakura did not want to do anything that might cause this one to slip away.

She threw on her training outfit and breezed through the kitchen, stopping long enough to look into the refrigerator and remember she really needed to go shopping. No matter. She’d grab a bite to eat on her way to Hinata’s house.

Hinata still lived with her parents in the large compound they called home. Well, Hinata called it home. Sakura had no idea how her taciturn father might refer to the imposing building that had been in their family for generations. A white-eyed maid, forehead emblazoned with an unmistakable symbol of her servitude, answered the door and ushered Sakura into the opulent foyer of the residence.

“Hinata-san is dressing. If you wait, I will let her know you are here.”

Sakura nodded and the cousin bowed deeply, then scurried away. Sakura turned to the ornately trimmed mirror that hung near the entrance and quickly inspected herself, after shrugging out of her jacket. Finding no place to hang it in the overdecorated yet surprisingly non-functional room, she draped the garment over one arm. Its hood had done little to keep her dry. She sighed as she combed fingers though her wet hair. The rain had fallen steadily all night and continued its steady patter this morning, causing large, muddy puddles to form in the unpaved roads. For this reason, Sakura had foregone travel by roads, hopping from rooftop to rooftop instead, but the clay-tiled slopes were treacherous in the rain, and she’d slipped several times. Now Sakura twisted around to get a better look at the back of her outfit. It was only damp, not muddy. Surely Hinata’s father, Hiashi, would not look at her with complete disapproval were he to see her in her somewhat disheveled state.

Hinata was not the type of girl one would expect to have grown up in this environment, Sakura mused. She was kind and generous, meek and shy– a polar opposite to her father, and as a result was completely unsuited to be head of the Hyuuga clan. Yet that was her destiny. Sakura suppressed a giggle as she imagined what Hiashi would say once Hinata and Naruto began to date. Sakura had no doubt that they would be dating soon. Naruto was fairly dense, but once he did understand, he was tenacious and determined. Sakura expected the kyuubi container and the Hyuuga heir would be married before the year was out.

“Sakura!” Hinata ran to greet her friend and hugged her. Like many shy people, once Hinata warmed up to a person she was quite demonstrative. “It’s so good to see you! How is Naruto?” How could Naruto not have seen how much this girl adores him? It was ridiculously obvious.

“He’s great, Sakura. We had a nice visit, although his hentai sensei cut things short.”

“Oh.” Hinata blushed deeply. Apparently she’d been on the receiving end of his leers, as well.

“I have something for you!” Sakura fumbled with her jacket, finally finding the pocket that held the letter she and Naruto had written.

“A l-letter? From N-Naruto?” Hinata hardly every stuttered anymore. It was clear she was surprised. She held the letter gingerly in her hands, as though afraid it might burn her.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Sakura noticed her friend's dazed expression.

“Huh?”

“Let me know if you’d like to train sometime. I really need the practice.”

“Oh. Right.” An angelic smile lit Hinata’s face, as she slowly turned around and wandered off, leaving Sakura alone in the vast foyer.

“I’ll just let myself out,” Sakura said to no one in particular.

Her mission accomplished, Sakura no longer minded getting muddy, and decided a cross-country run might be a good first step in getting her body back into condition. Twice around the walls of Konoha would be a 5 kilometer distance– not a bad start. And the dense trees would probably provide some shelter.

...o...o...o...

Sakura came home with a chill, and swore softly to herself when she couldn’t get the gas-fired heater in her apartment to light. The landlord tended to make himself scarce during the day, so Sakura settled for the next best thing to a toasty warm apartment– a steaming hot bath. She loved that her bathroom had a soaking tub. Many of the newer places had modern, more shallow tubs, which in Sakura’s opinion just didn’t get the job done. She made herself tea as the bathtub filled, then scrubbed herself down before climbing into the capacious tub.

Why am I in such a good mood? she wondered as she settled into the bath. Had a couple days away from home done her that much good? Perhaps Tsunade-sama was right about Sakura needing a vacation. But no, that couldn’t be it. She’d been back for a few days. If the vacation had been that restorative, she should have felt better at once.

“It was the laughing,” she said aloud. She hadn’t laughed like that in years. True, some of the mirth she felt had been at Kakashi’s expense, but he’d certainly laughed at her enough over the years. She’d really enjoyed herself, she realized, despite the embarrassment she’d felt.

Sakura closed her eyes and sunk a bit deeper into the soothing water. It wasn’t just the laughing that made me so happy. It was the companionship. The thought created small ripples of unease. It had been almost like old times. She’d been completely honest with him, and he’d really only been just a bit less communicative than he had been in the past. Sakura smirked. What did it signify that the highlight of her recent social interactions was the time she spent with a comatose man?

If you don’t open up, you won’t get hurt. This was an adage Sakura lived by, and it had served her well. Of course, to do so she avoided any situation where opening up might possibly occur. She almost never visited bars, and on the odd occasions where Ino or Hinata dragged her to one, Sakura refused to drink. For some people, alcohol loosened inhibitions. Ino was a good example of this, though her inhibitions were pretty loose to start with. One too many cups of sake and she’d be dancing on the table. She’d pulled off her top one evening years ago, long before Sasuke returned. The men in the bar that night (Genma, Kiba and Gai among them) definitely had enjoyed the show, and had reminded her of it for years afterwards. Ino, characteristically, was unfazed by their comments.

For other people, alcohol seemed to unlock feelings of aggression. Rock Lee was perhaps the best example of this. Several times now his wages had been garnished to cover clean-up and repairs to Konoha night spots. For Sakura, though, just a sake or two would crumble the wall she worked so hard to maintain. After a drink or two, she’d reach out to others. She’d talk honestly about her feelings and her past. She’d show weakness. Not drinking while visiting a bar was almost as bad. She felt distinctly uncomfortable when she spent time sober with a glazed-over Ino or Hinata. Drunken humor was only funny to the drunk, it seemed.

Better to meet friends for training or a brief dinner (in a restaurant, of course– who knew how long guests might linger if she opened her house to them?). Best of all was to meet for lunch. Her work schedule allowed only 45 minutes for the lunchtime meal. Happily, this was not enough time for companions to broach any potentially sticky subjects, such as her love life (or lack thereof), her obvious loneliness, or the sadness she emanated that seemed to border on depression, to name a few topics that had been brought up in the past. Forty-five minutes wasn’t even enough time to find some chinks in the wall she'd erected.

Sakura knew that it was hard to fake a smile. It was easy to turn up the corners of one’s mouth, but far more muscles were involved in a true smile than in the phony, plastered-on version. But she’d found a way around it. If imagined how she’d felt when she’d passed the jounin exam, her face would immediately light up. She found she could manage that type of smile for forty-five minutes without a problem. Conversations about sticky subjects were therefore averted, although her companions might notice that she seemed a bit distracted.

Sakura sighed. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t analyze her feelings. She could already feel the warm feeling she’d woken up with slipping away. She climbed out of the tub and grabbed a soft white bathsheet. Before she wrapped it around her, she stole a critical glance at her body in the bathroom’s full length mirror. She really did look like a pre-teen compared to the nameless girl in the Icha, Icha book. Her legs were still too thin, and somewhat ungainly in her view, and her backside had always been a bit larger than she’d have chosen (were such options available). She didn’t mind her breasts, though. They were on the small size, as Ino still pointed out, but a lot more practical during training and missions, and easier to bind than the pair Ino sported. Sakura wrapped the large terrycloth towel around her and stepped closer to the mirror. Her face was attractive enough, she guessed. She still had a prominent forehead, but her features seemed to balance it now. No one ran screaming from the sight of her, anyway. All in all, she definitely was not a beauty queen. She’d been surprised that Jiraiya had asked her about modeling, and even more surprised when she’d caught him spying. He must be an equal-opportunity pervert. Sakura laughed at the thought. Her good mood was restored.

...o...o...o...

“It looks like you had quite a few visitors today.” It was evening, and though it was her day off, Sakura wanted to make sure Kakashi had every opportunity to recover quickly. She didn't mind giving up an hour or two of her limited free time. Kakashi was wearing a paper crown, Sakura noticed. Even if she hadn’t checked the visitors’ log, Sakura would have known who’d paid a visit. “The more interaction, the better.” Sakura smiled as she removed the crown and folded it along its creases. She slipped it into the Icha, Icha book. He'd wonder how it got there when he woke up. Sakura snickered, imagining his embarrassment. She quickly checked her patient's vitals and inspected his eyes. No change from yesterday, she noted, but it was probably too early to expect anything dramatic.

“I stopped at the general store on the way over.” Sakura opened a small vial and held it under Kakashi’s nose. “Do you like it? It’s essential oil from Fraser fir trees.” She pulled a small metal cup and shook several drops into it. Then she added some olive oil and swirled the mixture gently.

“Mmm. I love this smell. I’m betting you do, too, since you seem to love the woods as much as I do. I’m inferring that, of course. I never heard you complain about sleeping outside, and you seem to spend a lot of time in trees...” Sakura cranked Kakashi’s bed to move him into a half-upright position. She leaned him forward to untie his gown, unsnapped it at the shoulders and pulled it down to his waist. “Just so you don’t get any funny ideas, anything below the waist and above your knees is off limits. I’ll start on your arms.”

Sakura was an experienced masseuse, as most medics were. Chakra manipulation did a great deal for patients, but the human touch complemented those techniques beautifully. There was something about firm physical contact that could drain the tension from a patient, and instill a potent feeling of well-being. Giving massage was an intimate experience for both patient and medic– it couldn’t be otherwise. Luckily, it was usually rewarding to both. Sakura enjoyed giving massages. She found that giving of herself in this way and feeling patients responding to her touch filled her up-- made her feel whole, somehow. It was also rewarding to see and feel dramatic changes in her patients. The changes that happened during a massage were almost immediately visible and had an obvious, physical cause. Chakra, on the other hand, was invisible, and while it certainly could be felt by the therapist, and though the changes it could produce were dramatic, it was harder to link cause and effect on more than a conceptual level– the repairs made with chakra seemed almost magically induced.

This massage was different from the usual, though. Kakashi’s body retained some tension, but less than a typical patient, even less than a civilian. As he was largely unresponsive, massaging him was somewhat akin to manipulating a large doll. Kakashi's flesh was warm and supple, though, scarred in some places, unmarked and velvety smooth in others. He certainly was attractive, Sakura realized as she began to massage his chest and abdomen.

“I’m guessing you haven’t been massaged before, Kakashi. A lot of your scars have adhesions.” Sakura rubbed expertly against his older scars, releasing them from the connective tissue underneath. “That should help.”

Are! He's attractive. It was a good thing the man was unresponsive-- Sakura didn't think she'd be able to survive giving him a massage if he responded in any way. His flesh felt so nice under her hands. Snap out of it. He's just a patient, no different from anyone else. With an effort, she began to rebuild the wall.

Sakura finished his massage and quickly washed up, then returned to the copy-ninja’s side to record some orders on his chart. “Sponge-bath daily, rotating textures: loofah, rough washcloth, sponge. No lotion. Do not remove mask.” The added stimulation of a daily scrub would do him good, but the oil from his daily massages would be more than enough to protect his skin.

“So, where did we leave off last night? I believe Jinrai was kissing the girl who doesn't seem to merit a name...” Sakura opened the book and began to read again.

She fisted his long, luxuriant silver-white hair, which glistened like platinum in the waning light.

“Show me how to please you.” Her voice was soft, but urgent.

“In good time.” Jinrai drew her to him again, and caressed her lips with his own. He touched her lower lips with his tongue, signalling his intent, and her lips parted willingly.

“Is there some secret French-kissing signal no one’s told me about?” Sakura's laughter bubbled up, a response not only to the cliche scene being described in the book, but also to the absurdity of the scene she and Kakashi were playing out. If Kakashi were aware, her flippant comments were probably driving him crazy. She was being unfair.

“I’ll stop cracking wise now.”

His tongue explored the warm, dark recesses of her mouth and flickered over straight, white teeth.

“Okay, I know I said I wouldn’t but, really! He makes it sound like Jinrai is spelunking, Kakashi. Are her teeth stalagmites and stalactites? Should he be on the lookout for bats?”

He slowly drew her to the bed. He pressed gently against her shoulders, lowering her to the mattress, all the while caressing her soft breasts, her womanly hips–

“Is he an octopus? I thought his hands were on her shoulders.”

She felt his smooth hardness against her, and her body went rigid with fear.

‘Don’t worry, love,’ Jinrai said soothingly, looking into her luminous brown eyes. ‘I promise you I’ll be gentle. It will hurt for only a moment, and then I promise you paradise.’

Sakura had no snarky remark to punctuate this paragraph. Her sole male-female experience had been with Sasuke, and that had only gotten as far as kissing, and only when initiated by her. It hadn’t been satisfying, hadn’t left her wanting more. Sakura wondered now if there was something wrong with her. Ino had always spoken glowingly, and in great detail about her sexual conquests– and, she saw now, often in language filthier than used by Jiraiya. Even now Ino held nothing back. Sakura knew far more about Ino’s relationship with Sasuke than she cared to.

Sakura’s cheeks reddened as she continued to read aloud. Jinrai appeared to be quite the considerate lover, putting his partner’s pleasure before his own. Several times, in fact, in this first chapter. Sakura couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be intimate, let alone with someone who knew her body that intuitively. She continued reading, her voice becoming gentler as she did so.

“Well, Kakashi-kun, I think that’s enough for tonight,” she said as she ended the chapter. “I have to say I’m disappointed that he’s leaving her. It seemed like more than a one-night stand. Of course, what do I know?”

She leaned over the comatose man, and rested her hand against his. “I really hope this is working, Kakashi. I don’t think you know you much you’d be missed–“ Sakura stopped herself, and stood up straight, shaking off the desire to tell him how glad she was to spend time with him again.

“Good night, Kakashi-sensei,” she said quietly, and left his room.

Chapter 7–Research

Another day, wet and miserable. Sakura turned from the window where she’d been standing and regarded Kakashi. Still the same. She sighed. He’d already had his sponge bath, she saw, as his hair was damp. He didn't look like himself-- his hair was much too orderly. Sakura ran her fingers through his thick hair, mussing it until the man before her looked a bit more like himself.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about going bald any time soon.”

Sakura had arrived at work to find that her schedule had been rearranged. Tsunade was obviously worried about Kakashi. She’d assigned most of Sakura’s patients to other medics– a clear signal that Sakura was to focus on finding a way to shorten Kakashi’s recovery. Tsunade had also scheduled a meeting with Sakura for later in the day, undoubtedly to discuss Kakashi’s progress.

Sakura frowned as she sat down in the recliner that stood next to Kakashi’s bed, and flipped a reading lamp on. She opened one of the scrolls she’d located two days earlier and reread it. It described the anatomy of the Sharingan, and several hypotheses about its development. But the document contained very little data to back up its conjectures. This was not surprising. The Uchiha clan burned their family members’ bodies as quickly after death as possible to avoid the gathering of data about their bloodline limit. Sakura remembered the many pyres the residents of Konoha had lit in honor of the clan on the day of the Uchiha massacre. The night sky had glowed orange that night.

Sakura spent the morning rereading the scrolls and scanning through the information from the Sand Country that she’d pulled from the database. Most of the Sand patients had shown improvement within a couple of days. Sakura examined the scale the medics had developed to track recovery from coma, and compared it to the data she’d collected from Kakashi. He ranked close to the bottom of the scale. Not good.

The other scrolls contained general information about the brain, but very little about brain injury. And the types of injuries that were described were head trauma, such as injuries sustained when falling from a distance, or through taijutsu. Kakashi had no bumps or other outward signs of damage. If the damage to his brain was physical, it was much more subtle. It didn’t help that Sakura had no way to examine Kakashi’s brain. Medics used chakra to get an internal view of the body. Physicians used exploratory surgery on the rare occasions it was merited Neither were acceptable strategies in the case of brain-related illness.

Sakura was stymied. It was frustrating to have a tool at her disposal that she couldn’t use, and even more frustrating to be so ignorant of the body’s functioning. Sakura prided herself on her intelligence. She’d worked diligently in school, always aiming for the perfect score, doing far more than was needed to be sure she excelled. Sakura believed that knowledge is power. She felt very weak right now. What other resources were open to her?

Sakura pulled Kakashi’s file before her and began to read it more thoroughly than she had the first time. Maybe there was something that she’d missed in her eagerness to look for trends– some small detail that might unlock this puzzle.

Two hours later she groaned and stretched her back. Nothing useful. “Shimatta!"

She looked at Kakashi. He’d shifted his position a bit, but this wasn’t unexpected. Coma patients did move, just not by volition. Sakura stood and walked around Kakashi’s bed, seating herself on the wooden chair that she’d placed close to the bedstead. She leaned into him, gently probing his recent wounds with her fingertips, releasing minute amounts of chakra as she did so. He was healing beautifully, she noted. There was good blood flow to these regions and she could feel the anabolic activity of his cells as they rebuilt his muscle tissue.

Sakura moved her hands to Kakashi’s face and gently unwound the bandage she’d used to press the cotton pad over his Sharingan eye. She pulled back his lid and stared closely at his eye, shining a penlight as she did so. Unlike his native eye, the Sharingan did not constrict when the bright light hit it. It must not be fully healed, Sakura thought, or was not transmitting signals to the brain. She closed his eye and pressed her palm against his lid, allowing her soothing chakra to inspect the inner workings of Kakashi’s eye. The scrolls she’d examined were not very accurate, Sakura realized. Of course, they described a less-evolved eye than Kakashi’s. The eye depicted in the scrolls had only one tomoe; Kakashi's had the Mangekyou. Kakashi’s optic nerve was thicker in width than the nerve drawn in the illustration, definitely more so than that of a normal eye. She’d noticed this difference on her first examination, but had assumed the thickness was a result of the inflammation she’d observed. But the inflammation was gone now. It could be thicker due to changes in its insulating sheath or due to more fibers within the nerve itself, Sakura mused. Her chakra flowed into the nerve and coursed along its length, jumping from axon to axon. There were definitely more cells here. More neurons meant more connections to the brain. But was this normal?

Sakura realized there was one way to find out. Why hadn’t she thought of him sooner?

...o...o...o...

“You want to what?” Sasuke looked at Sakura with ambivalence. Yes, he wanted to help Kakashi. He felt bad about the fact he hadn’t visited yet, but Ino was close to term and he didn’t want to miss this delivery. She’d had only four hours of labor with their previous child and had been quite upset when Sasuke hadn’t arrived by her side in time. It was an Uchiha tradition to birth their children at home, and Sasuke realized his absence, leaving Ino with only their servants to assist in the birth, had been pretty callous.

“Sasuke, I can do the exam right here,” said Sakura, seemingly reading his thoughts. “There’s no need for you to come up to the hospital. And you won’t need to activate the Sharingan for long. I just want to take a quick peek.” She smiled winningly at her former love interest.

“Grr.” Exams were just so intimate. And an exam from Sakura? Sasuke knew she no longer loved him, but still...

“Okay. Make it fast, though.”

Sakura placed her palm against Sasuke’s left eye and released chakra into his system. Anatomically, his eye was similar to Kakashi’s, but not identical. This was despite the fact that Sasuke was a first cousin, once removed to Obito, the donor of Kakashi’s Sharingan. The cellular organization of his iris was different. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Kakashi’s Sharingan was more evolved. noticed something else that caused her hand to tremble, and her breath to quicken slightly. Sasuke’s optic nerve was not as pronounced as Kakashi’s. Sakura removed her hand and examined Sasuke’s other eye. That nerve was identical in form to its mate.

“Activate the Sharingan, please.”

Sasuke did so and apart from the obvious change to the iris and pupils, the only change Sakura noticed was a small increase in cellular activity .

“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?” Ino walked slowly into the room, one hand rubbing her swollen belly, the other placed firmly at the small of her back. “I know that look, Sakura.”

Sakura removed her hand from Sasuke’s eye and turned to smile at her friend and former rival. “Their optic nerves differ. This must have something to do with the extreme drain the Sharingan places on Kakashi’s system. But it could be related to the Mangekyou.” Sakura thought for a moment, and she grew excited again. “Ino, Sasuke, doesn’t Keiko have the Sharingan?”

“Yes, it showed itself last year, when she thought one of Kiba’s dogs was attacking. He wasn’t, of course, but the Sharingan tends to evolve when the user needs it.” Sasuke’s voice was matter of fact. “I take it you want to examine her as well?” Sasuke left the room to find the child, sighing as he did so, but returned in moments with the eldest of his three children.

“Keiko,” Ino said softly, “Sakura would like to examine your eyes. Would you do that for her?”

“Yes, okaa-san,” the girl said with a smile. Sasuke picked Keiko up and supported her on his hip as Sakura spoke gently to the girl as she gazed into her eyes. The left had one tomoe, the right two.

“This might tickle a bit, but it won’t take long. First I’d like to look at your left eye while the Sharingan is off.” Sakura placed her palm against the girl’s open eye and allowed chakra to trickle in.

“That does tickle! But it feels nice. Like a warm bath.”

“Now turn the Sharingan on. But don’t use it against me, Keiko!”

The girl laughed and complied. Again, Sakura saw no difference between the unactivated and activated eye, apart from the obvious changes she expected.

“Let’s look at your right eye, okay? Turn off the Sharingan for just a moment.” Sakura smiled. There was a notable difference between the eyes. In this eye, the optic nerve was significantly thicker. And this eye had two tomoes.

“Okay, now turn the Sharingan on again.” No difference, as before. “I’m all done, Keiko. Thank you for being such a good patient.” Sakura gave the girl a kiss before Sasuke lowered her to the floor. He smiled smugly. He was obviously pleased that his daughter’s bloodline limit had revealed itself at such a young age.

“Sasuke, do any of your family records describe the anatomy of the Sharingan?”

Sasuke hesitated. The family shrine did have a hidden room that had scrolls relating to the Sharingan, but they described only its ultimate purpose, not its anatomy or physiology.

“There are a couple of scrolls, but nothing you’d find useful. Just tactical stuff. I don’t think there’s ever been a medic in the Uchiha clan, Sakura, so probably no one thought to examine how the Sharingan worked. Sorry.” The apology was uncharacteristic, but Sasuke appeared to mean it. He seemed to be worried about the man, who, long ago, had attempted to convince him to forgo the path of revenge.

“Sakura, could I ask you a favor in return?” Ino looked at her shyly. Ino was almost never shy.

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you use your chakra to tell me how close I am? It would do me a world of good to know. I keep having a dream that it’s going to be another two weeks. I don’t think I could survive that.”

Sakura lay her hands against Ino’s abdomen and gently probed.

“Hmm. Your body feels like it’s about ready, and the baby’s chakra is quite strong. I’m not an expert by any means on labor and delivery, but I’d guess sometime today, Ino.”

“Today? That’s wonderful! Don’t go anywhere, Sasuke. Don’t even leave this room.” Her voice was commanding.

“It had better be a boy,” Sasuke muttered in a very low voice, but both women heard him.

...o...o...o...

As Sakura expected, her afternoon meeting with Tsunade was to discuss Kakashi’s progress. Tsunade was not pleased to hear that Kakashi’s condition was basically unchanged, but she did approve of the steps Sakura had taken to stimulate his brain. She was even more impressed by Sakura’s keen observation of the differences between Kakashi’s native and Sharingan optic nerves and listened carefully as Sakura described the evidence she’d found that suggested the optic nerve grew in size as the Sharingan evolved. As Sasuke had inadvertently pointed out, the Sharingan was likely to evolve in times of stress, when a more advanced state could be put to use.

“But perhaps it changes a bit each time it’s used, until it reaches a point where it is ready to take on the next form. Maybe the cells needed to take the Sharingan to the next state are formed with every use, and when the vast majority are present, the eye advances to the next level. That would be consistent with the fact that Kakashi’s coma duration has increased with every use of the Sharingan.”

“I think you’re on to something, Sakura. The question, then, is this: Is Kakashi’s Sharingan still evolving? If not, this coma should last only as long as the previous one.”

“I really don’t want to wait to find out the answer to that question.”

“Neither do I, Sakura. We can’t risk losing him.”

Sakura frowned. “What exactly is the Sharingan doing to him? There is obviously some type of mismatch between his body and the Uchiha eye. An Uchiha would be able to turn off the Sharingan at will. But Kakashi’s is always active. And Sasuke told Naruto that the reason he tried to kill him was to gain the Mangekyou. It was the only way, he said–he had to murder his best friend to achieve it. But Kakashi has the Mangekyou, and he hasn’t murdered anyone he cares about, has he?”

He would never do something like that. Never.

Sakura was silent for a while, as she became lost in thought, her mind analyzing the data at hand and separating fact from conjecture. “So here’s what we know for sure. The Sharingan behaves differently in Kakashi than in an Uchiha. It is constantly on– Kakashi doesn’t have the ability to control it. It constantly drains chakra unless it’s covered. Just the act of looking while the Sharingan is activated uses great amounts of chakra. That doesn’t happen in an Uchiha. Itachi walked around with the Sharingan activated all of the time, and Sasuke has said using the Sharingan doesn’t tire him significantly. But Kakashi’s eye is an Uchiha eye. The variable is Kakashi.”

“So what do you conclude from this?”

“I’m not ready to conclude anything yet. But here’s a speculation. The Uchihas have a genetic difference that allows their eyes to evolve. The signal to evolve occurs in the eye itself or in some place that Kakashi and the Uchihas both have in common. Otherwise, Kakashi’s Sharingan would not have changed form. But the mechanism that turns it on and off resides in some location that Kakashi doesn’t possess. The eye communicates directly with the brain and not much else– that makes me think that there must be some difference between the brain of a person born with the Sharingan trait and those who aren’t. That’s the only thing it could be. And somehow, as the Sharingan has evolved, the difference has become more important. Maybe the Sharingan is overloading his brain, somehow.”

“You’re asking me to allow you to look inside Kakashi’s brain.”

“That would be unethical, Tsunade-sama. I’m not asking you that. I can’t think of anything Kakashi detests more than the invasion of his privacy. Entering his brain would go well beyond that. I’d be privy to his thoughts.”

“A shinobi is a tool of the village, Sakura. We will need to do what best serves the village’s interest. If it comes to this, I think Kakashi will understand.”

“Yes, Tsunade-sama.”

“We still have time, Sakura. Continue your therapy for the next five days while I give this some thought. The jutsu involved in brain manipulation is forbidden, as you well know. I will not make this decision lightly.”

Sakura bowed to her sensei. “Thank you for your time, Tsunade-sama.”

“Sakura?” Tsunade called as the young medic left the office. Sakura turned and looked expectantly at the sannin. “Kakashi is lucky indeed to have you leading his care.” Sakura smiled at the compliment. “And I think he’s even luckier to have you as a friend.”

Sakura bowed again, blushing, then hurried to Kakashi’s room. Was she his friend? She hadn’t thought so. They hadn’t spoken about anything significant in the time since he’d left without a goodbye. Sakura realized with a start that she’d missed him terribly. But Sakura was pragmatic. When he awoke, if he awoke, things would probably go back to the way they’d been– he’d thank her without a trace of emotion in his voice, grab his copy of Icha, Icha, and walk out of her life.

She sighed as she entered his room, absentmindedly picking up his chart from the foot of the bed and flipping through it. No change. No surprises there. She honestly hoped it wouldn’t come to using the forbidden jutsu Tsunade has alluded to. He’d never forgive her.

Sakura looked up at the unconscious Kakashi and gasped. His eyes were open, and he appeared to be looking right at her.

Sakura ran from the room and raced to the nurses’ station, growing indignant as she did so. “You were supposed to call me if there was any change!” She bellowed the words, as she rounded on the nurse assigned to Kakashi.

“W- What? Haruno-san, what is wrong?” The nurse had heard of Sakura’s unpleasant moods, but had never experienced one first hand. She’d also heard of Sakura’s superhuman strength. She desperately hoped she would not be experiencing that characteristic of the medic nin who stood glowering in front of her.

“Hatake Kakashi’s eyes are open. That’s a significant change. When did this happen? Why wasn’t it recorded in his chart?”

“I checked on him half an hour ago, Haruno-san. His eyes were closed. I swear it.” The woman stood up to accompany Sakura back to Kakashi’s room.

“No. Stay.” Sakura’s words were authoritative, her voice still angry. The nurse sank back into her chair and sighed in relief as Sakura turned on her heel and hurried back to Kakashi’s room.

Chapter 8–Frustration

a/n This chapter is rated T for suggestive language and situations, including nudity. No sex (yet). Rating is likely to increase to M in the near future.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your words mean a lot to me. I will be replying to each review individually, but haven’t had time yet– I figured getting the story out ASAP would be more appreciated!

“Kakashi, can you hear my voice?” Sakura looked for signs of recognition. “I know you may not have control over your body yet, but if you can control your blinking, let me know by blinking twice.”

Kakashi did not respond. Although Sakura had expected this, she was still disappointed. It would have highly unusual if Kakashi had awakened without any warning, but it sometimes did happen. Some patients recovering from coma opened their eyes fairly early on, others later, but regardless of the time their eyes opened, some were able to communicate as Sakura had described. Other patients entered a temporary or permanent vegetative state, in which the body would go through a normal sleep-wake cycle, but these patients did not have cognitive functions. They might moan, laugh or even talk, but not in response to an outside stimulus. Still other patients’ eyes might open intermittently. But whether or not the patient was actually seeing anything was open to debate.

Sakura grabbed a pen from the movable table where she’d placed her research materials and held the pen in front of his uncovered eye. “If you’re able, Kakashi, follow the pen with your eyes.” She moved the pen slowly back and forth, then up and down. Again Kakashi did not respond.

That didn’t mean he was unable to see, however. It could be that he didn’t yet have the ability to move his eyes. Sakura cranked the bed to a partially-upright position, removed her papers from the table, then slid it into place over the bed. She grabbed the copy of Icha, Icha Takutikusu and propped it against the table, then crouched by Kakashi’s head, checking to make sure his line of sight included the book. She turned to the first illustration, the one that had so embarrassed her. If anything might stimulate him visually, this was it.

“Here’s what I was talking about. Doesn’t she look like Tsunade? Spitting image, I’d say. And you have to admit I’m right about the melons. She really should have back problems. Oh, and speaking of which, I saw Ino today. She looks like she’s ready to be wet nurse to a small village. Sasuke is going to be upset. Not about the breasts– I’m sure he’s quite happy with those, if Jiraiya’s tastes are representative of men in general. I meant he’ll be disappointed about the baby. Sasuke doesn’t know it yet, but the new baby is a girl. That’s just between you and me, though.” Sakura laughed at herself. Here she sat gossiping with Kakashi as though he were a close girlfriend. She really needed to get out more.

“Well, Kakashi, how about if you look at that picture while I give you a quick once-over? Then I’ll give you a massage and we can read.”

Sakura checked Kakashi’s vitals. They were normal with the exception of his pulse, which was slightly elevated. Was she getting through to him? She gently uncovered his Sharingan eye. The whites of the eye were no longer streaked with red, but the complex pupil still did not contract when she shone the penlight on it.

“Excuse, me, Kakashi. I don’t mean to interrupt your enjoyment, but I want to check your other eye.” Sakura placed one hand over his native eye, and the other over the Sharingan. She allowed a small amount of chakra to enter each, and compared the level of activity within each eye. The Sharingan eye was definitely more active than the one he was born with.

“All done. You can go back to your porn, now.”

Sakura stood to Kakashi’s side, sliding her hand down his fabric-covered chest and releasing more chakra into him. She allowed it to swirl and flow inside of him, inspecting the movement and quantity of his own chakra as she did so. He was back to normal levels. But strangely, once again she had felt none of his own chakra within the Sharingan eye. That couldn’t be normal– chakra inhabited and flowed throughout all regions of the body.

“Hmm. Ready for your massage?” She partially removed his gown, and pulled back the blanket and sheet covering his legs. She then leaned over and rummaged through her pack, muttering as she did so. “Smell this,” she said as she finally located a small vial. It contained vetiver oil, strongly aromatic, with a woodsy, grassy smell. Its heady fragrance filled the room as she uncorked the small bottle.

“Vetiver is one of my favorite scents,” Sakura said as she held the bottle under Kakashi’s nose. “I hope you like it. To me it smells earthy, like a rainy spring day, mixed with the smell of just-mown grass. Lovely.”

Sakura mixed the oil with its carrier, then warmed a small amount in her hands. “I’ll start at your feet, so you can spend a little more time with that picture.” Feet were a great place to start– in many ways the least intimate part of the body. Sakura found that she could pay close attention to Kakashi’s feet without finding herself thinking about the near perfection of his body. Knees, too, were fairly neutral.

But as Sakura moved on to his upper body, she found her mind wandering. Even in a relaxed, unconscious state, Kakashi’s arms were beautiful, sculpted, yet lean. And his chest was... well, it wouldn’t pay to think about it. Sakura laughed aloud as she glanced at the page still open before Kakashi. Jinrai’s body was so unlike Kakashi’s. The drawing seemed to embrace every stereotype related to masculine beauty. A body like that might do for competitive weightlifting, but for a shinobi, a lithe, taut body was a preferable asset, and in Sakura’s mind, far more attractive. Sakura remembered the very first day of genin training, when Naruto had jumped the gun, running forward in an attempt to wrest a bell from Kakashi. She’d marveled then at the swift, yet casual way in which Kakashi had deflected the attack and subdued Naruto, and she’d marveled many times since then at the easy grace with which Kakashi executed taijutsu. Even his trademark slouch was graceful, in a way. It seemed lazy on the surface, but that was by design. Underneath, Kakashi was tensed like a cat feigning sleep, waiting for the right moment to pounce on its unwitting prey. Quite a few attackers had learned that the hard way.

Sakura sighed. His back would be a more neutral area, Sakura hoped, as she moved the table away from the bed and carefully rolled Kakashi over. Slightly more neutral, she found, but not much. Sakura decided to close her eyes as she worked. That would be less stimulation for her brain.

“I need to wash your face,” Sakura said, once the massage was complete. “I promise I won’t look.” She filled a small basin and grabbed a bar of glycerine soap and two washcloths, and set them on Kakashi’s bedside table. She moistened the washcloth and gently rubbed it against Kakashi’s brow, then ran an end of the washcloth over the clear, gentle soap, and massaged the cloth against his skin. She lay the towel on his chest, then closed her eyes, and gently pulled the mask down to his neck. She tentatively touched the washcloth to the lower half of his face.

“You need a shave, Kakashi,” Sakura murmured, feeling the stubble of his beard prickle through the thin washcloth. She did her best to avoid touching his face with her hands. She didn’t need to find out what he looked like at the moment, although she was very interested. But the game that team seven had played in the past always had certain rules, and looking now would certainly be cheating. She felt for the second washcloth, moistened it and carefully rinsed Kakashi’s face, then dried it with the towel. She allowed his face to continue air-drying for a few moments while she leaned back in her chair, eyes still closed.

“Kakashi, I just want you to know, that I know this must be hard for you, assuming you’re aware. And even if you’re not aware yet, I know that when you do wake up you’ll feel violated. Please know that I’m doing everything I can think of to respect your boundaries. I’m taking this very seriously.” Sakura reached over and fumbled for his mask, finally replacing it on his face.

“Well, let’s read. I promise to limit the number of smart remarks this time.” Sakura opened the book to the second chapter and cleared her throat.

There was a reason he never asked them their names. In fact, in cases like this, when they were offered as payment, he specifically told the parent or guardian not to tell him the name of his prize. Jinrai leaned over the sleeping girl he’d pleasured relentlessly the night before, to leave a note on the pillow beside her. He resisted the temptation to give her one final kiss. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever spent time with, and leaving her would be especially difficult. Best not to make it even more so. Jinrai stole from the room, and crept outside into the twilight morning.

There’d be work in the Wave Country, he knew, and it was only three days journey, assuming no attackers lay in wait. Jinrai took to the tall, deciduous trees native to this part of the Fire Country. He’d be harder to track this way.

He made good time for a while, stopping only to take a swig, every now and then, from the water bottle that hung from his side. He paused now, bottle to his lips, and heard a slight crackling. He felt their chakra, though they were clearly trying to mask it. There were three shinobi heading toward him.

He didn’t have the advantage of surprise, but they were probably unaware that he’d noticed them. Jinrai continued on his way, neither speeding nor slowing his pace. He noticed they maintained the same distance from him as before. What was their goal in doing so? Was there another party up ahead?

He leaned against a tree after removing his pack, stealthily removing three kunai as he did so. With unparalleled ease and lightning speed, he threw the kunai. He heard a gasp and the rustle of leaves as one clearly met its target. Jinrai rearmed himself as two shinobi leapt into view.

They wore the seal of the Snow Country, Jinrai saw. Had they tracked him all this way? No, he guessed, as he noticed that their hitae-ate were scratched through. These were missing-nins

“You’ll pay for what you did to our sister,” the taller one said. The ninja removed the hood and mask obscuring her face. A long, thick braid of lustrous crimson fell heavily over her shoulder.

Her sister? Jinrai hadn’t been in Snow Country in quite some time, and the girls he’d bedded the last time– all had been willing, he remembered. What was the shinobi before him talking about?

"Don’t let yourself get distracted, Jinrai," he told himself, as he ducked just in time to avoid the shuriken thrown by the smaller of his opponents.

“We’ve heard about you, Jinrai. Our sister hoped for the kill, but sadly, that’s no longer possible. As her twin, I claim that privilege. Anami, he’s mine!” She tore off her mask and hood. She, too, had long red hair, but it was unbound. It fell in large, gentle waves over her shoulders. Her pale blue eyes flashed in the mid-morning light, as she unsheathed her katana.

“Of course, Akatsuka. But don’t kill him immediately. Let’s have some fun first.”

Jinrai dropped to the ground and threw a smoke bomb, not noticing how cold the air around him had grown. The smoke bomb detonated, but no cloud appeared.

“Silly man,” said a voice behind him. “Smoke won’t diffuse in air this cold.” Jinrai turned to see Anami exhale. The water in her breath crystallized as she did so. Jinrai felt his skin prickle at its approach. It felt as though he’d spent hours exposed in a blizzard. She controlled both water and wind, Jinrai realized. This was no lowly genin before him, but an S-class warrior.

Of course, so was he. It wasn’t often that Jinrai was evenly matched in battle, and he smiled at the opportunity presented to him. With a hand seal and a murmured word, Jinrai disappeared, coalescing moments later behind Akatsuka, kunai at her throat. As he plunged in the blade, she turned to snow– an exquisite snow sculpture that crumbled under his touch. He felt cold, metallic fingers snake around him. Akatsuka, it seemed, was an S-class warrior, as well. That would only make the battle more interesting. With a jolt of chakra, Jinrai broke the icy wires encircling his torso, and turned to his prey.

They were beautiful, both of them.

“Kakashi, I hate to interrupt, but this is going to end up in a threesome, isn’t it?” Sakura paged ahead, and the drawing accompanying the chapter. “Thought as much,” she sighed as her prediction was verified. “Well, here’s another illustration. Why don’t you take a look at it while I stretch?”

Sakura set in front of Kakashi the picture showing two scantily-clad kunoichi, both red-haired, both almost impossibly buxom, both surprisingly similar in facial features to the unnamed girl in the first drawing, and to Tsunade, of course. The only difference was the hair color.

“He really has a thing for her, doesn’t he?” Sakura stretched languorously. “For Tsunade, I mean. But it’s interesting. Tsunade talks a lot when she’s had a little too much sake– over three bottles, that is– but she’s never once mentioned her feelings for Jiraiya. She’s rude to him when he’s around, of course, but I wonder...”

It was late, Sakura noticed, glancing at her watch. Kakashi didn’t appear to be on a normal sleep-wake cycle, if he were on one at all. Sakura stood and turned off all of the room’s lights, except for the reading lamp by the bed. It cast a pool of light around her, as she took her seat and resumed reading.

They were beautiful, both of them. What a waste their deaths would be. Jinrai performed one of the jutsu he was well known for. Though the Rasengan

“Rasengan? He uses Jiraiya’s jitsu?” Sakura’s voice was incredulous. Why doesn’t he just call the main character ‘Jiraiya’ and be done with it?”

Though the Rasengan was a water-type jutsu, its immense strength would allow it to blow past any jutsu the sisters put out in retaliation.

Jinrai was wrong. The Rasengan exploded on impact, forming an immense crater, but the kunoichi had protected themselves with a thick wall of ice. The wall had shattered on impact with the spinning ball, transforming into sharp shards that had torn the sisters’ clothes and scratched their skin, but they stood little the worse for wear in the crater, each quickly flashing seals.

“Why am I not surprised that their clothes are torn?” Sakura sighed, knowing what was next. Nonetheless, she continued to read aloud.

“Together!” Akami cried, and Jinrai fell to the ground, unconscious.

Jinrai awoke with a taut, uncomfortable sensation in his arms and legs. He tried to move but found he couldn’t. His limbs were secured to the corner posts of a large bed. He lay spreadeagled, barely clothed. He sent chakra to his wrists and ankles, but found it was strangely consumed as soon as it arrived at its destination.

He craned his neck to see Akatsuka smiling at him. She moved from the bench where she sat, and leaned over his supine body. Her flesh was exposed where her clothes had been rent. Her skin was white, supple, enticing. Jinrai steeled himself to ignore her charms. He needed to find a way out of cuffs that held him here. This was no time for thinking about sex.

“Don’t waste your time, Jinrai. Those are chakra-depleting bonds. You’ll need all your strength to survive what’s coming next.” Her voice was sweet, but her expression was menancing.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“We will. It’s just that...”

“Akatsuka and I have a fantasy we’ve been dying to make real.” Anami stood in the doorway. She moved closer, removing her shirt and bindings as she did so. As if on cue, Akatsuka did the same. She leaned closer to Jinrai, caressing him with her full breasts, then laughed as his body responded.

It would be torture, Jinrai realized, to receive the attentions of these women and not be able to respond in kind. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“We’ve heard about you, you know,” said Anami, joining her sister in the bed. “Your reputation precedes you. She removed her remaining clothing, motioning for her sister to do the same. “It will be so much fun to do this to you. We’ll kill you afterwards, you realize. That will make it even more enjoyable.”

“It’s too bad you took our sister back in the clearing. Our original fantasy was for a foursome.” Akatsuka idly moved a lock of hair along Jinrai’s side, smiling as he shivered under its feathery touch--

“A foursome? With three red-haired sisters, two of whom are twins? Why didn’t he just make them triplets? Arrgh. Is this really what men fantasize about?" Sakura felt dirty again. "Kakashi, I just don’t think I can continue with this tonight. How about we pick up here tomorrow? I have a feeling this will be less difficult while the sun is shining.

Sakura quickly stood, replacing the folded crown she’d used as a bookmark, and setting the book on the bedside table. His eye was still open, she noticed, but expressionless. Sakura switched off the reading lamp, and leaned into Kakashi, to look at his eye more closely. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. Their faces were close, nearly touching, and Sakura felt an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him. With difficulty she pulled back and turned away.

“Sweet dreams, Kakashi-kun,” she said softly as she left the room.

Kakashi’s eye closed. He’d understood more than she realized.

*stretch* well it took me like 20 minutes to post all that and i know it'll take more then one day of school to read it so no reason to post any more at the moment, maybe in the morning i'll post up the next 10 chapters

Chapter 9– Reflection

Kakashi lay flat on his back, staring at the tiny-holed acoustic tiles that covered the ceiling. He knew where he was. There was no doubt of that, even though his field of view was quite limited. He heard the medics and nurses being paged, and the soft echo of footsteps in the hall. And of course there was the smell of disinfectant, though it was mixed with an altogether more pleasant smell. Vetiver, she’d said. The smell lingered, though he’d already had a sponge bath today. Too bad Sakura hadn’t been the one giving it. The nurse who’d been tasked with the job had gaped at him the entire time, it seemed, though mercifully, she hadn’t removed his mask. Sakura had seen to that, he supposed.

Thank you.

It was still quite early. He could tell this by the quality of light that filtered into the room. He was bored, and frustrated. And also, if he were honest with himself, a bit anxious. That was a feeling he almost never permitted himself to fear, but these circumstances seemed to warrant it. He had no idea how long he’d lain here, or even how he’d gotten here. He pushed his mind to remember. He’d almost made it home, when he’d come upon three members of the Sankaku clan. The battle that ensued was protracted. No doubt this was due to the fact that Kakashi had been traveling for a week, and only that morning had used his Sharingan to fight off another group of Sankaku who’d tracked him after he’d left their compound. He’d done a quality job in bringing that facility to the ground, burying the vast majority of its residents under tons of concrete. But apparently not all of them. At least six had survived, or had been elsewhere during the explosion.

Kakashi couldn’t remember much about the conclusion to his final confrontation with the Sankaku. He’d used his Sharingan, and that was undoubtedly why he was here. He assumed his opponents were dead. Otherwise, he’d be. The Sankaku were not the type to cut and run.

Why couldn’t he move? He willed his arms to move, his legs. Nothing. He was thinking too big, he realized. How about just a finger? Nothing. An eyelid? They blinked involuntarily, but not on his command. Kakashi would have sighed, but even that was impossible. What was going on?

He was in control of his thoughts, at least. He calmed his mind, and willed himself to remember any details he might have overlooked. He remembered flashes of conversations– one-sided conversations– but no visuals at first. He’d heard Genma’s voice at one point, cheerful and irreverent as ever, telling him of his latest sexual escapade. And Gai’s voice, sobbing, as might be expected, lamenting a youth cut short by tragedy. Had Kurenai been here, as well? He thought so, but she was so quiet now that her better half was gone. And certainly Kakashi remembered Sakura’s soft voice. At one point she’d mentioned something about melons, with a trace of irritation in her voice. She’d mentioned the fruit again on a separate occasion. His eyes had been open then–images flashed before him, now. When she’d adjusted his bed, he’d been greeted by the sight of her beautiful face. It had been the first thing he’d seen, apart from the ceiling, and he would have smiled if he were able, at his luck in being greeted by something so welcome. There had been concern in her eyes, too. Was he paralyzed? Was his condition the result of a spinal injury?

Kakashi drove the thought from his mind, and concentrated instead on what was real, or seemingly real, anyway– the scraps of memories from the last days or weeks. Hopefully it hadn’t been months. It had greatly amused him when Sakura set an illustration by Jiraiya in front of him. He’d never thought she’d do something like that. The Sakura he’d spent time with eight years before had been untouched, apart from several passionless kisses from Sasuke. Eight years could change a person, though. She was a woman now, an intelligent, powerful woman, his equal as a jounin. Surely she had been with men. This thought displeased Kakashi, and he forced his mind to think about a more neutral subject. His mind returned to the illustration. He hadn’t been able to enjoy it. Sakura had miscalculated the focal point for his eye. His eyes were a bit older than hers– well, more than a bit, and a little more space between the book and Kakashi would have done wonders for his perception. It was clear from her description, though, and her subsequent monologue, that the illustration was one of Jiraiya and Tsunade, the characters renamed, of course. Sakura had remarked on Ino’s breasts, then, Kakashi remembered, sharing information with him she was sure he’d never would have heard if she were certain he was aware. She’d been comfortable, at ease in her own skin as she’d talked to him like they’d never been apart. As though he were her confidant again.

Why was she reading an Icha, Icha book to him, and a new one at that? And had she actually gone to a bookstore to purchase it? The Icha, Icha series was kept behind the counter nowadays, as teenage boys demonstrated a certain propensity to steal them when the books were openly displayed. Had Sakura really gone up to the shopkeeper and asked for the book? The Sakura he once knew would have never done so. She’d looked at him with distaste every time he’d pulled the book out, much to his amusement. He’d often opened it when in her presence just to get a rise out of her.

But this was a new volume, he was certain of it. He’d memorized the collection, after reading each volume a minimum of fifty times (and certain selections far more than that), but the words she’d read were clearly new. It was nice being read to, he realized. Her voice was erotic, soft and sensual. And it was quite amusing when she became flustered. That at least, was true to the Sakura he’d spent time with years ago. She’d almost gotten to an interesting part of the story, but had become indignant and set the book aside.

Another memory filtered back to him. This one had no visuals, just Sakura’s soft voice continuing the story. He could hear the blush in her voice, though. Why would she continue reading if it made her so uncomfortable? Things just didn’t add up. She was willing to walk into a bookstore and ask for an adults-only book, yet she was reluctant to read it? What was the point, then? There was obviously something he didn’t quite understand here, some method to her madness. Kakashi, like most of Konoha was aware of Sakura’s great prowess as a medic. Several years before, Tsunade herself, beaming, had told Kakashi that Sakura had surpassed her own abilities. There must be a reason why Sakura was reading to him, massaging him, spending more time with him than was typical for a busy medic.

He hadn’t experienced this before–this loss of control over his body. He’d been in a coma before, so many times he’d lost count, but every time before, he’d gradually reawakened, with full use of his body. Each time he’d been out longer, true, but each successive battle had been more difficult, required more of him. Something serious must be taking place for the foremost medic in Konoha to be taking such an interest in his care. There was no other reason he could think of.

Kakashi had deliberately severed his connection to Sakura eight years before. He’d been surprised, then disgusted, and then quite scared of the feelings he’d developed for her as he’d comforted her after her parents’ death. She’d been only sixteen. Beautiful, graceful, but still a child, at least in the eyes of the law. He’d tried to bottle up his feelings, but had realized he could no longer trust himself around her. And he couldn’t abuse her trust in that way. He had no doubt she would have let him make love to her– he knew how deeply she cared for him, and how easily she might confuse that for another type of love. So he’d left, knowing full well what his abrupt disappearance would do to her, trusting she’d be strong enough to survive it, and move on. And she had moved on. He’d run across her every now and then, sometimes by design, and gauge her reaction to their encounters. She’d steeled herself against him. He’d been glad.

“Kakashi?” He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard her enter. Some ninja. And why no honorific? She’d always called him Kakashi-sensei.

“Your eyes are open again. That’s wonderful. I thought it might have been a fluke the first time. I wish I could tell whether or not you could hear me, or even see me. Let’s try the pen test again.” Sakura moved a pen slowly back and forth, and gently asked him to track it. He tried. He put all of his effort into it. It wasn’t possible.

“Kakashi, blink twice, if you can.” He wanted to show he heard her, show her that he was aware, that he could understand her. But nothing, despite his utmost concentration. Not even a flicker– she would have noticed and remarked on it.

Sakura sighed. “I’m not going to give up on you, Kakashi. I know you’ll come out of this soon. But maybe Tsunade is right...” Her voice drifted off as she became lost in contemplation and left his field of view.

He wasn’t paralyzed permanently then, Kakashi thought with a rush of hope. This was just some bizarre side effect of his coma. And come to think of it, if he were paralyzed, he wouldn’t be able to feel at least part of his body. But he’d felt everything during that vetiver-scented massage. The memory flooded back to him now. He could almost feel her hands upon him again. The treatment must have medical value– she certainly hadn’t been taking advantage of him. She’d whispered words to that effect at some point, he remembered, and he had felt the embarrassment that rolled off her in waves as she avoided touching the zone between his waist and knees. He thought he’d sensed something else, as well, if only for a moment, as she’d looked into his eye. But it had quickly been replaced with a look of cool professionalism, and she’d hurried away. But not before she’d called him “Kakashi-kun.” He was sure she’d said that.

“It’s been nine days, Kakashi.”

I’ve been here nine days?

“Tsunade will be making a decision tomorrow about your treatment. At first, I thought it was working. Your eyes opened, anyway. But nothing’s really changed. At least I haven’t made a total fool of myself.” Sakura leaned over to adjust Kakashi’s bed, to elevate his torso. She turned his head toward her, and sat down next to him, so that their eyes were level.

She wasn’t reading the Icha, Icha book out of sheer novelty, Kakashi realized. It was part of his treatment– an apparently unorthodox treatment.

“I’m not going to give up on the treatment just yet. I’ll wait until Tsunade makes a decision.”

A decision to do what? Sakura was clearly disturbed. Was Tsunade planning on letting him lay here alone, to while out the rest of his days with only his own mind for company? Was there any worse fate for someone who used his body to serve his village?

“Kakashi–“ Sakura’s voice was soft. “I need to tell you this. And I pray you can hear me, because you need to know how I feel.” She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I’m almost positive that Tsunade is going to direct me to use a forbidden jutsu on you. You’re too valuable to the village for her to do otherwise. The problem is that each coma you’ve had has lasted longer than the previous. Your last one was eighteen days long. If the trend continues, this one will last almost a month. That can’t be good for your brain or your body. We have no idea what your brain is doing right now. For instance, two times now, your eyes have opened– so maybe some visual signals are going to your brain. But why only two times? It’s been four days since the last time your eyes were open. It’s like something is short circuiting.”

She was talking to herself, trying to convince herself. But she was also apologizing, asking for forgiveness. It was clear, Kakashi realized, that she was torn among her duty to the village, her beliefs as a medic, and her need to honor the memory of their friendship.

Kakashi guessed what was coming next.

“Tsunade is probably going to tell me to enter your brain, to find out what exactly is happening, and to see if I can repair it somehow. I have no doubt I’ll be able to learn the jutsu, but it’s dangerous. Apart from that, Kakashi,” her voice rose, “ I don’t want to do it. It would be like...rape. I know Ibiki uses a similar jutsu on prisoners. Maybe that’s justified. I don’t know– my gut says, ‘no.’ Kakashi, I know you value your privacy. And that’s what makes this even worse. Over the past few days, I’ve thought and thought about you– trying to remember the smallest details you might have shared about yourself, or about your past. I know next to nothing about you. And that’s intentional, on your part. As your medic... and as your friend... I have to protect that wish. Doing this is just wrong.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, Kakashi saw. He wished he could show her somehow that he understood. That he’d been through worse, and survived. That he wouldn’t blame her. But she collected herself quickly, he saw. She’d always had a will of iron, and he saw that she’d learned how to apply that strength of will to her emotions. She’d changed in so many ways.

Good for you, Sakura. I’m proud to have been your teacher. And your friend.

“Well, let me give you your massage, I’ll wash your face, and then we’ll read. Same old, same old, huh?” She smiled a bright, false smile. “I bought a new oil today. sandalwood. It reminds me of you, somehow. And I thought a change might be good, just in case this is having any effect on you.” Sakura bustled around the bedside, adjusting Kakashi’s gown and bedclothes.

This was nice, Kakashi thought, as Sakura’s hands began to knead his arms. He preferred the scent of vetiver, though he’d never smelled it before Sakura had introduced it to him. Gai always reeked of sandalwood. But Sakura had always avoided Gai like the plague, so she wouldn’t have known that. He creeped her out, she’d always said. Kakashi couldn’t agree more. He’d worn sandalwood in his teens, until Gai had begun to ape him. Gai had gone so far as to purchase a mask, but never had the opportunity to wear it. Kakashi had beaten the tar out of Gai when he had shown it to him. He got the message for once.

Kakashi watched Sakura’s face as she moved her hands along his arm. She’d closed her eyes, concentrating. “Have you noticed how much better your scars are? The adhesions are almost gone.”

Well, of course he hadn’t noticed. What the hell were adhesions? Kakashi would have laughed, were he able to do so. He couldn’t move his arms, after all. But he did feel his scars move more easily under her touch than they ever did when he touched them. Of course, usually he ignored them. They weren’t worth thinking about.

“Regardless of what Tsunade decides, I’ve ordered physical therapy for you, starting tomorrow. Massage won’t be enough on its own to keep your muscles from contracting, and I also want to limit atrophy as much as we’re able.” Sakura leaned over to work on his other arm as she spoke. Her hair caressed his chest for just a moment, and her breasts pressed against the arm closest to her. She really had no idea what she was doing to him.

The usual tell-tale sign was missing, though. He was thankful for that, although it might give her some indication of his awareness. A rather large indication. He smiled inwardly, imagining the resulting conversation with Tsunade.

“Tsunade-sama! He’s responding! Finally, he’s shown some sign of awareness.”

“And what would that be, my child?”

“Well, when I was massaging him...”

Sakura’s hands moved to his chest, interrupting Kakashi’s minor daydream. Her hands were expert, pushing into his flesh with just the right amount of pressure. Taku! This felt so good. Why had he never bothered to get a massage before? Right. That intimacy thing.

He was like Jinrai, he realized, dwelling on the scene where Jinrai had lain powerless as a goddess-like woman had touched him, caressed him. Well, two goddess-like women, actually. Jiraiya really did have a thing for threesomes. He wrote one into every story– it was a trademark of sorts. Kakashi didn’t quite relate to this preference of the ero-sennin. One woman at a time was enough for him. Not that he’d had much opportunity in recent years. He hadn’t really been looking. He’d decided Icha, Icha was enough, as real as he wanted to get in that arena. But this was enough to make him change his mind.

Kakashi caught a glimpse of Sakura’s face as she rolled him over to a prone position. There was that look again. She hadn’t bothered to hide it this time. It was clear, she felt something, too.

Kakashi smiled inwardly again, smugly this time.

Even paralyzed, they can’t resist you, Hatake.

Sakura gave a grunt of frustration, then moved from his side. She was a moment in the bathroom, and returned into his line of sight, a towel in her hands. She wiped her hands off, and Kakashi suddenly felt dispirited. Why was she ending it? She’d hardly touched his back.

Sakura cranked his bed down, lowering his torso flat, then turned the wheel that moved the bed up and down. She stood, dribbled a bit of oil onto his back and started kneading again.

A sigh of relief would be appropriate right now, Kakashi thought.

But Sakura moved from his side again, still not happy.

She grabbed the towel again and moved from his side. He heard the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

“It’s not standard procedure to do this, but for some reason your back is really tight and I can’t get the leverage I need to work the tension out. I’d never live it down, though, if someone walked in...”

Maybe I do have some control over my body after all. Wait. Is she straddling me?

This had to be a dream. But he hadn’t dreamt of Sakura in years. Not in that way, anyway. He felt the warmth and pressure of her pelvis and rump on the small of his back, and felt his pulse quicken.

“This seems to be helping your circulation. Your wounds are completely healed now, you know.”

How can she be so calm through this?

After a few minutes, she climbed off him, and moved to his feet.

Feet? Who cares about my feet? Woman, get back on my back. Better yet, roll me over and do my chest again. Be sure to climb on top, though. Wouldn’t want to miss a spot.

Torture, this was simply torture. Perhaps he wasn’t in the hospital at all. Maybe the Hebi had dragged him back to some hidden encampment where their version of Ibiki was using his memories against him.

But he didn’t have a memory of this, just a half-forgotten fantasy. And that hadn’t even been about Sakura. No, this was tantalizingly, disturbingly real.

“Let me clean up, and I’ll do your face.” He heard running water, and the sound of a basin being filled. She rolled him to his back almost effortlessly. He’d forgotten how strong she was these days.

Her face was gentle, peaceful, as she washed his. This must be how she looks when she’s asleep. He hadn’t remembered such peacefulness when team seven had camped together. Of course, Naruto and Sasuke had been there. It was hard to feel peace around either of them. Kakashi wanted to caress her. What was she doing to him? He’d worked so hard to kill his feelings for her. But here they were, flooding back in full force.

Kakashi was glad when she replaced his mask and grabbed the copy of Icha, Icha. Somehow, it calmed his mind to read it. The scene might be graphic (fully 3/4 of each book was devoted to sex of some sort), but he’d made a game of turning the text into a sutra of sorts. As he read, he calmed himself, using his will to overcome the sensations the text produced in him, viewing the images produced in his mind with dispassion, the way a person meditating might let each sound heard wash over him, identifying it, noting it objectively, then letting it slip away. At other times, he read purely for enjoyment. Jiraiya did have a way with words. But he determined those times, no one else. He’d certainly never read for enjoyment in front of anyone else.

But he wasn’t reading at the moment. He was listening. Listening to Sakura’s sensuous voice, to her bubbling laughter as she pointed out the cliches rampant in the text. She was ruining it for him, she really was. Not the constant editorializing. He’d thought similar things on the first read-through of each volume. She was right, and rather amusing. She was ruining the real purpose of his books– not their value as a shield from interaction with others, but their usefulness in keeping him detached internally. He’d have to repay her for this. Kakashi did his best to ignore her voice, focusing instead on what he might do to humiliate her. Well, not humiliate her, exactly. That was too strong a word. He’d just teach her a lesson. But his thoughts scattered as he was pulled back into the story, again and again.

Finally, he simply gave up, and let Sakura’s voice taunt and pleasure him.

Mendo kusai.

Chapter 10–A Visit With Ibiki

a/n This chapter has two flaws (though hopefully, not fatal). First, there is almost no mention of Kakashi. Second, it is laden with pseudoscientific gobbledygook. I will say that I did my best to make the info on the brain as accurate as possible (apart from the chakra stuff, that is), and I really felt it was necessary to write all this as a lead-in to the next chapter. So please bear with me. The next chapter should be very interesting!

“Nou to zunou-shinnyuu no jitsu” translates to “brain and mind invasion technique.”

“I’ve made my decision.” Tsunade had obviously had a rough night. Whether it was from overindulgence or because of the difficulty in deciding Kakashi’s fate, Sakura could not tell. She had worked for Tsunade long enough, however, to know when to be quiet, and when to stay out of her way. Tsunade reached into her desk and pulled out a thick scroll, then pressed it into Sakura’s hands. She cradled her hand in her heads, seemingly nursing a painful headache.

Sakura chose her words carefully. “Tsunade-sama, do you have any specific instructions?”

“Yes. Study the scroll for an hour or two, then join Morino Ibiki in the ANBU wing of headquarters. He’ll be expecting you at ten. You’ll be practicing the jutsu on him.”

“I-Ibiki?”

Tsunade-nodded slightly. “No one understands the mind better.”

“But Tsunade-sama, I’m examining Kakashi’s brain, not his mind.”

“Sakura, don’t play dumb with me. It’s an insult to both of us. You know full well that the brain and mind are inseparable. Ibiki knows this jutsu. His interrogation techniques are built around a variation of it.”

Sakura opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. Tsunade was on the verge of becoming irate. Best to just leave things as they are. Arguing would make no difference, anyway. The fifth Hokage was nothing if not obstinate.

“In answer to your next question, Sakura, the reason Ibiki won’t be doing the jutsu on Kakashi is because Ibiki is not a medic. He wouldn’t have the first idea of what to look for.”

And I do?

“And he doesn’t have your chakra control. His interrogation techniques typically require brute force, not the subtlety of chakra manipulation. He doesn’t have your awareness of the amount of chakra being applied. In his work, any damage resulting from overuse is seen as the price of extracting information. If Kakashi were aware, Ibiki could use his feedback to help regulate his chakra flow, and the process would be relatively pain-free. But if Kakashi were aware, we wouldn’t be needing to do this procedure. Once Ibiki shows you the level of chakra you need to use, Kakashi will be in safe hands.”

Tsunade looked up at Sakura, and saw her disturbed expression. “Sakura, I wouldn’t have chosen you for this if you weren’t the right person. You’re still having reservations, aren’t you?”

“Tsunade-sama, I’ll do what you’ve directed. You do not need to worry about that.”

“I’ve never worried about that where you’re concerned, Sakura. And you haven’t answered my question.”

“I know that not all decisions are black and white, and that difficult choices are sometimes required. I was just...”

“What, Sakura?”

“I don’t want to visit Ibiki’s mind. Can you imagine the memories the man must have?”

“Whom would you practice on instead, Sakura?”

Sakura had no ready answer for this. She’d avoided thinking about the jutsu, hoping that Tsunade would decide against using it.

“It’s dangerous, Sakura. You could cause serious brain damage if you use it incorrectly. So practicing on a friend is absolutely out of the question.”

“But... Tsunade-sama. Sensei, couldn’t you show me?”

“Sakura, I’ve never done this jutsu.”

Sakura looked at her sensei in astonishment.

“As good as I am, you’re better, Sakura. And I don’t say that lightly. You’re the person who can best master this technique. Now, go and practice. Get out of my sight, Haruno.”

Sakura bowed and exited, and headed for the quiet of her own office. On second thought, she decided she’d rather be with Kakashi. His presence would fuel her courage.

Kakashi’s eyes were closed again, Sakura noticed as she entered his room. They’d been open at this time the day before. He was definitely not on a regular sleep-wake cycle, one sign of a persistent vegetative state. Sakura had no idea whether or not this was good news. Perhaps his eyes had been open as a result of random neurons firing. Perhaps he was aware regardless of whether his eyes were open. As uncomfortable as she felt with the procedure she’d soon be doing, it would give her some answers. She resolved to focus on that silver lining.

“Good morning, Kakashi-kun,” she said gently. “I thought I’d study in here, if that’s alright with you.” Sakura settled into the cozy recliner next to the bed and unrolled the scroll that Tsunade had given her. “Nou to zunou-shinnyuu no jitsu,” was its title. At least its title was direct and to the point. What she was training to do was to invade Kakashi’s brain illegally. And his mind.

The technique was straightforward, Sakura saw as she read through the scroll. Getting to the brain would be routine. She could pour her chakra into any location on the body, and allow it to flow until it located a nerve, then follow the nerve to the spine and up to the brain. Or she could enter through the eye, and follow the optic nerve. Sakura planned to use the latter route, as the Sharingan seemed to be a central player in Kakashi’s coma. Actually entering the brain would be more difficult. A thin, but definite wall of chakra-related energy protected the brain from casual entry. The jutsu punctured this wall just enough to let the user’s chakra through.

Most of the scroll was devoted to detailing the many mistakes that could result from imprecise use of chakra while performing this jutsu, and to explaining the hows and whys of the damage that would result. According to the scroll, the brain, like all parts of the body, both generated and consumed chakra. Chakra generated by the brain was free to flow within and among the cells of the brain only, due to the barrier that isolated the brain from the body. Stresses placed on the brain, such as concentration, consumed chakra, and stresses placed on the body, such as extreme exercise, limited the oxygen available to the brain. With less oxygen, brain cells were less able to burn fuel and release energy. As a result, less food energy was converted to chakra. The upshot of this was that the amount ofchakra surrounding the brain’s tissues could vary substantially. This was not a problem unless the amount of chakra dipped below a certain threshold. In this case, coma or death resulted.

Another danger lay in overloading this system. Because chakra was a form of energy, too much of it concentrated in one place could depolarize the electrochemical gradients that were responsible for transmitting signals throughout the brain. This could be temporary, or permanent. In other words, too much chakra could shut down or kill brain cells. Depending on the cells damaged, the result might be memory loss, or an inability to control certain body functions. If key areas of the brain were permanently damaged, the result would be incapacitation or even death. For this reason, Sakura read, extreme care should be used when probing the parts of the brain responsible for involuntary functions, such as breathing and the beating of the heart.

This explained a lot about Kakashi’s condition, Sakura realized, finding herself becoming angry. Why was this knowledge hidden? Surely only the technique itself should be forbidden. The theory behind it would be useful knowledge for every medic. She had learned precious little about the brain in her studies, apart from basic anatomy. She had a general idea of the function of each part of the brain, but very little else. For instance, she knew that the largest part of the brain, the cerebrum, was involved in attention, judgement, intellect, and some of the control of movement of the body’s muscles. Still another part of the cerebrum was involved with receiving and making sense of signals from the eye. And it was well known that the brain stem was involved in major body functions such as reflexes, sleeping, and breathing.

But the brain was the most complex organ in the body, and Konoha’s medics and physicians knew next to nothing about it, when all was said and done. How on earth was she supposed to figure out what was wrong with Kakashi when the closest Sakura had ever been to a brain was the pickled specimen she’d dissected during her training?

Sakura hadn’t even begun to digest all of the new information in this scroll. It contained information about the workings of the brain that no medic or physician knew, information Sakura would need to internalize if she had any chance of helping Kakashi. She’d need days– no, probably a week to make sense of all of it. But there was no way Tsunade would wait that long.

Sakura looked at her watch and realized it was time to meet with Ibiki. Ibiki the master interrogator. A man often described as a sadist. And not jokingly, as Kakashi often was. Sakura remembered the first time she had laid eyes on the man. He had administered the first portion of the chunnin exam, an impossible, jounin-level test he had designed to test not the students’ academic skills, but their ability to spy. He had placed ringers around the room, supplied with answers beforehand to give the students an opportunity to cheat, although he’d told the class that anyone caught cheating would fail. It had been a horrible experience, far worse than Kakashi’s bell test. At the conclusion of the test, Ibiki had removed his forehead protector, unveiling the multitude of thick, puckered scars that covered his hairless scalp. It was clear he was proud of the torture he’d endured in the line of duty. It was equally obvious that the man loved his work.

Sakura left the building, scroll in hand, and walked slowly towards the headquarters. She would need to practice the jutsu– that meant inspecting Ibiki’s mind. She shuddered unwittingly. Jiraiya’s stares had made her feel unclean– but this was a completely different feeling of filthiness. To move through the mind of a person who enjoyed torturing others, to be privy to his memories and the pleasurable feelings linked to them– the thought made Sakura’s skin crawl.

And how would she know how much chakra to use? Tsunade mentioned the need for precise control. Sakura realized with sudden clarity that Ibiki would need to enter her mind to demonstrate. Sakura stopped walking as she was overcome by a feeling of complete panic. To have him inside her mind?

Well at least you’ll know firsthand how Kakashi is going to feel.

Kakashi. If it had been anyone else, Sakura would have argued against this treatment. But it was Kakashi, and she owed him. If nothing, else, now they’d be even.

She hurried into the HQ building.

...o...o...o...o...

“Morino-senpai. Thank you for agreeing to train me in this technique.”

Morino Ibiki stood as Sakura entered his office, and regarded her curiously. “I was wondering if you were the same Haruno that scored so highly on chunnin exam years ago. You had the high score, you know. And you still have the same pink hair, I see. At that time I thought it was a symptom of teenage rebellion.”

Apparently, she’d made an impression on the man. Maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps it would make him go easy on her. Sakura smiled cautiously at the man who’d be probing her brain.

“You’ve read the scroll, I gather? Tsunade-sama has briefed me on your mission. And also on your reluctance to go forward with said mission.”

“I don’t know enough about the brain to feel as though I’ll be successful.” She gathered her courage. “And I also question the morality of entering person’s brain without his or her permission.”

“I’m not an ethicist, so I can’t help you there.” His smile was more of a twisting of his lips, Sakura noticed.

“We’ll start by taking a look at your brain. But to assuage your morals, I suppose I should ask your permission.”

“Granted.’

“I think you’ll find my chakra control is poor compared to your own. However, if you let me know when it hurts, I’ll be able to back off to a level that feels comfortable to you, let still allows me to probe. We don’t usually titrate in this way– it’s not really necessary in other circumstances.”

Sakura was anxious not to hear about these “other circumstances.” She did her best to redirect the conversation. “Would you enter through the optic nerve? That’s my plan for Kakashi’s exam.”

“Certainly.” He performed the necessary seals, then laid a large, rough hand against Sakura’s eye socket and pressed gently. This surprised Sakura. Nothing about this man seemed gentle. She felt his chakra pulse into her body, causing her to tense up immediately. She nearly screamed at the intense, consuming pain it produced.

“Too much! Too much!” Her eyes were closed, but she could tell he was grinning.

“How’s this?”

“It still hurts.” There were tears in her eyes now.

“Now?” Finally, she felt relief. Now that the pain was gone, she could measure the amount of chakra coursing into her eye. It was more than she used during physical examinations, far more.

“Do you really need to use that much chakra?”

“It’s hard for me to tell exactly how much I’m using, but yes, it is a lot, and yes it is necessary. We have some theories as to why that would be–“

“What this jutsu developed by the interrogation squad?”

“Smart girl. Tsunade did well to choose you as apprentice. Yes, the jutsu is ours, as is the research supporting it. It’s made a huge difference to our program.”

“It explains why your name is known as far away as the rock country.”

Ibiki made a funny noise. Sakura assumed it was his version of a laugh. “You can see, then, why the jutsu is so closely guarded.”

“But why not share the research that supports it? The medical community could put it to great use. Lives would be saved.”

“Enemy lives would be saved as well. With that information, they’d be able to devise their own jutsu. Our country cannot risk such a threat to our security.” He removed his hand from her eye. “Do you have a feel for how much chakra to use?” Sakura nodded.

“I thought I would see images, or something that indicated you were probing my mind.”

“Normally, you would. But I stayed mostly in your cerebellum. There are no memories stored there. Your balance was affected momentarily, but you probably didn’t notice since you are seated.”

That was considerate, Sakura thought. And unexpected. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as everyone said.

“Well then. Let’s talk a bit about what to expect when you are exploring.”

“I take it I’ll be examining your brain?”

“I’m close in age to Hatake Kakashi, sound of mind, and male. The only other ANBU officers with access to this technique are female. Their brains are different.”

“I meant no offense, senpai. Tsunade described you as the person in Konoha who knows the most about the mind’s functioning. You are obviously best suited for the task.”

“I directed the research that led to the jutsu.”

And withheld that information from the medical community, most likely. “So what does a normal brain look like, and what are signs of brain damage? And how can you tell if damage is repairable?”

“Each normal, healthy cell will be producing chakra. The level of metabolism will influence how much. For instance, as we’ll be talking during the exam, you should notice that the temporal lobe is a bit more brightly lit than the surrounding areas. But in general, all areas should be glowing. If they are not, the tissue is damaged or dead. Infusing small amounts of chakra into the area may give you an indication of which. Well, are you ready?” Ibiki traded places with Sakura, so that he sat in the desk chair and she on the examination stool.

She tentatively placed her hand against Ibiki’s closed eye and allowed a trickle of chakra to enter.

“Even I can tell that’s not enough, Haruno-kohai.”

Sakura took a breath to gather her courage and sent the appropriate amount of chakra coursing into Ibiki’s optic nerve. She felt it travel through the wall of energy that sealed off the brain, then change direction at the chiasma. At this point, she allowed it to flow to the surface of Ibiki’s brain, which she saw indeed was evenly aglow with his chakra. She let her chakra flow to the temporal lobe and observed carefully as she directed a question toward him.

“How long can an exam safely last?” She saw an increased glow in a small patch, and a deeper glow coming from within.

“A very good question. Some have lasted as long as four hours, some as little as one.”

“Lasted?” She was sorry she asked, but now she had the answer to how Ibiki knew so much about brain damage. Sakura allowed her chakra to branch out into creeping tendrils, covering much of the brain’s surface as she did so. “Move your arm, please.” Ibiki complied, and Sakura saw a small strip on the very top of the brain glow more lightly.

She allowed her chakra to delve more deeply into the brain, moving through the frontal lobes. She felt his shoulder jerk, then his leg. She continued moving.

“You just stimulated an olfactory center. I smell roses.”

Now Sakura moved into the temporal lobes. Again, the cells were evenly surrounded with chakra. As her chakra pressed against the cells, images assailed her. Some were boring– a house, a car, people he assumed must be significant to Ibiki. Then she saw some that terrified her. She gasped as she pulled her chakra away hurriedly, and moved to find a safer place– any place that didn’t store images. Or sound for that matter.

“I can see what you see, of course. It’s funny that something that prosaic had such an obvious effect on you.” His words were calm, and objective, as though he were rating her. “Perhaps you should move onto the occipital lobe.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Our studies have shown that the occipital lobes are the seat of vision. The optic nerves connect there, as you already know, and we’ve shown that images are processed and recognized here. Memories don’t seem to be storied here, though, so you’ll be safe.” She heard his strange laugh again.

Sakura moved slowly through the tissue of this region, noting again how evenly distributed Ibiki’s chakra was. “Could you open your other eye?” He did so, and Sakura saw the activity in the lobe increase, with a corresponding increase in chakra. This, she quickly realized, could tell her if Kakashi was actually seeing. She grew excited despite her immediate surroundings.

She moved through the cerebellum, finding it, too, to be diffusely lit. Her final stop was the brain stem. There were no surprises there, either. The brain stem was in constant use, and slightly brighter, therefore, than the other parts of the brain, but again, all cells glowed at about the same level.

“Is there anything else I should be looking for?”

“You’re the medic.”

“And you’re the expert on brains.”

“What I meant was that you are the person who best understands Hatake’s symptoms, and could make an informed hypotheses about which areas of the brain are affected.”

“I’ll need to study the scroll for a while before I’ll be anywhere close to making an informed hypothesis.” She removed her hand from his eye and backed away. “Thank you for the training, Morino-senpai.”

Sakura left the office as quickly as she could. She had an awful lot of reading to do, she realized. And an awful lot of thinking.

Chapter 11–Revelation

Tsunade gave Sakura one extra day. Well, actually a little bit more. Sakura had the remainder of this day and part of the next to prepare for the exploration. They’d do the procedure in the late afternoon of the next day. That meant an all-nighter. Sakura grabbed her anatomy text and backpack and headed back to Kakashi’s room. She might as kill two birds with one stone, she thought. She’d break up her studying with Kakashi’s daily treatments, and observe him as time permitted.

He had company, she saw as she entered his room. Kurenai, this time. Her face was directed toward Kakashi, but it didn’t appear as though she were really looking at him. Her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

“It can help to talk to coma patients, you know. Sometimes they can hear what’s going on around them.” Sakura’s voice was soft.

Kurenai looked up and smiled, slightly surprised. She hadn’t noticed Sakura, it seemed.

“It feels so funny, though. Almost like talking to a dead man.”

“He’s not going to die, Kurenai.”

“He’s lucky to be in your care. I wish Asuma had been.”

“I’m sorry, Kurenai. You must miss him terribly.” Sakura paused. “I’ve talked to Tsunade about being assigned more missions. All of the medics should be. But we’re understaffed and she can’t spare us. I feel like it’s a joke that I’m a jounin. My skills are becoming rusty.”

“I heard you found him.”

Sakura nodded. “I hadn’t seen him in months, and then I stumbled across him. He’d pushed himself too far, as usual. He was almost dead.”

“He cares about you.”

Sakura looked at Kurenai, confusion apparent in your face.

“He always used to call you his favorite, you know.”

“Funny, he never treated me that way.”

“He overcompensated. I’m sure he didn’t want anyone to think he favored you.”

“You’re talking about things that happened years ago– almost half my life ago. He was only my sensei for a little while. We really haven’t spoken in eight years.”

Kurenai ignored her. “Naruto and Sasuke used to drive him crazy with their rivalry and ed behavior. You were the level-headed one, relatively speaking. He used to say he could count on you to catch on first, to analyze things.”

“This isn’t a wake, you know. I promise you, he’ll be fine.”

“One thing Asuma always used to say was that we should live life like there was no tomorrow. That’s why he smoked. ‘What is the point in giving up a pleasure that might kill you tomorrow when tomorrow itself is so uncertain?’ He always said that.” Kurenai stood, and leaned in to give Kakashi a kiss on the forehead. “He was right, you know.”

Kurenai walked to the door, and turned back to address Sakura. “Take good care of him.”

“I will.” Sakura walked to the recliner vacated by Kurenai and curled up in it. What had Kurenai been trying to say? What did something Kakashi had said about a twelve- or thirteen-year-old Sakura have to do with the present? Kurenai desperately missed Asuma, that much was certain. Perhaps that longing for him made her see things in others that really weren’t there.

The morning exercise with Ibiki had drained her stamina. A quick cat nap and she’d begin studying. Her eyes closed almost immediately.

...o...o...o...o...

Sakura awoke to the patter of rain and the certainty that the sun had set quite a while before. The room was dark, and she nearly knocked over the reading lamp as she reached for it. How many hours had she lost? She swore as she moved to the window and opened it, hoping that a cool breeze might help her to stay awake. As long as Kakashi was well-covered, the slightly lower temperature wouldn’t hurt him. His body was fine, after all. Sakura moved to the closet to find another blanket and spread it over him, suddenly noticing that his eyes were open again.

“When did this happen? Kusa!” She grabbed her pen and ran through the same eye test, which produced the expected result. Still nothing.

“Well, I’m glad you’re awake.” She might as well assume it. “I could use the company if I’m going to be up all night. Do you mind if I use you as a sounding board every now and then? It’s not as interesting as Icha, Icha, that’s for sure, but it’s for a good cause. And I promise I’ll read you another chapter in an hour or two. And give you your massage. Deal? Blink twice if the answer is no.” Okay, that was a little cruel.

“The first thing you should know is that Tsunade ordered me to use the technique I told you about before. We’ll be doing it tomorrow night. And, interestingly enough, the scroll containing the jutsu also includes all sorts of information about the brain that’s not in any medical text. I’ve read them all, so I know what I’m talking about. So I’ll be giving myself a crash course in anatomy and physiology tonight. And trying to make some predictions about what I’ll find when I look around tomorrow.”

Sakura read through the scroll again, taking notes as she did so. After two hours she realized this was folly, and put down her pen. She was only a small fraction of the way through the scroll. There was no way she’d be able to learn all of the information in the text by heart in the next few hours, even if she was at it all night and the next morning. What she needed to do was target her learning. She didn’t need to know everything, she realized, although that was always preferable. What was critical to know was any background information that related to Kakashi’s condition.

“Well, Kakashi? How about that massage?” She definitely needed a break from reading. “I didn’t have time to pick up another essential oil. How about vetiver? I think it’s my favorite.”

...o...o...o...o...

It felt strange to have Sakura undressing him. But pleasant, definitely pleasant. Much nicer than being disrobed by the nurse who was taking care of his daily sponge baths. Today she’d brought along another nurse, presumably to gawk at his various attributes. As if the catheter wasn’t humiliating enough. Kakashi had been glad that his eyes were shut. Just listening to their incessant, inane chatter was almost enough to drive him crazy. It was one thing to be a giggling twelve-year old, quite another to be a giggling thirty-year old. Ironically, Jiraiya had written no less than three separate scenarios involving a pair of nurses sponge-bathing a patient. In Kakashi’s favorite, the nurses had decided that it would be far more efficient if the two of them were as naked as their patient. As much water had dripped upon them as on Jiraiya’s stand-in. But the reality Kakashi had experienced that morning was far, far different than the fantasy. Thankfully, his pair of nurses had stayed away from his mask, despite the entreaties of the second nurse. The first seemed to be somewhat afraid of Sakura. Kakashi smiled inwardly at this. Sakura had grown and changed so much in the past eight years. He found that he respected and admired the woman she’d become. He hadn’t noticed how similar they were. She was analytical like him, practical, and didn’t put up with nonsense. That behavior, coming from Kakashi was intimidating enough, but from a woman, a young beautiful woman at that, it must be fear-inspiring. Sakura was well on her way to becoming another Tsunade.

Kakashi mercifully had fallen asleep a short time after his sponge bath. It was hard to stay awake in the near-silent room with nothing to stimulate his eyes. He’d awoken to a stiff neck, as the nurse had left him flat on his back with his head turned completely to the right. The first thing he’d seen when his eyes had opened (not by choice, just by chance, it seemed), was a feminine hand splayed over upper guardrail of his bed, and pink hair draped over the arm of the overstuffed, brown recliner that stood next to the bed. Sakura was here, and sleeping, it seemed, though it was still bright outside. He heard her steady breathing.

For the next hour, Kakashi watched the little of her that he could see, focusing first on the perfect ovals and crescent moons of her unpolished fingernails, then the soft creamy skin of her hand, and her long, elegant fingers. They belied her strength–it was hard to imagine that a perfect hand such as this could force the ground to crack, or pound through solid rock. He examined her hair next, the strange, lovely pink that he knew had bothered her as a teen. She hadn’t liked to stand out. He’d heard Ino tease her on several occasions about her prominent forehead, which was really not that prominent at all, and which if anything, indicated her intelligence. Classic beauty was overrated, Kakashi thought. The most beautiful women he’d ever seen were those who had an imperfection that set them apart, which caused you to look at them twice and remember them. Sakura was beautiful in this way. And it was still quite clear that she still didn’t know it. Kakashi found her all the more charming for it.

Her hair was silken, fine and shimmering, a perfect contrast to the nubby brown cloth of the recliner, and very touchable, he remembered. She still wore her hitai-ate as headband, and she’d kept her hair short. It suited her, Kakashi thought. He imagined running his fingers though her hair, and tracing the place where hair’s blunt-cut ends swung against her jaw. First with his finger, then perhaps with his lips. Or his tongue.

Stop thinking about her that way.

But he couldn’t. She was the only thing in his field of view, and the only thing worth looking at even if he had been able to turn his head or move his eyes. And that included Icha, Icha, he realized.

And now she was massaging him. And she’d locked the door. She started with his feet, this time, and Kakashi compared the difference between her touch and that of the sponge-bath nurse. Sakura was managing to make even a foot massage a highly sensual, almost erotic experience. He wanted more, and wished he could moan his pleasure. Kakashi felt Sakura’s hands move up his legs, and firmly caress his calves. He never knew the backs of his knees were so sensitive.

“Kakashi? I hope you don’t mind if I think aloud.”

Think aloud? This is no time for thinking.

“I need to figure out what it is I should be looking for tomorrow.” Sakura’s hands left Kakashi’s legs as she stood and stretched.

No! Focus on me! Well, you are focusing on me, I realize that, but not in the way I want. Touch me, Sakura.

Sakura leaned over Kakashi and began to massage his chest.

That’s more like it. Kakashi had an excellent view of Sakura now, as she leaned in to him, using her weight to increase the pressure of her hands. Her uniform was cut just low enough for him to see the soft curve of her upper breasts, and as her arms moved closer together her cleavage became more apparent. Mmm. You know what would make this massage that much better? If you climbed on top of me again. Or if the top button of your uniform suddenly unfastened.

No such luck.

“So, let’s review your symptoms. I’m guessing you’re aware, but that may be wishful thinking. So to be objective, let’s not rule out that you’re still unconscious. That means I definitely need to look at your brain stem. It should be completely lit up, if you’re aware and alert, probably only partially lit if you’re not, since you’re still breathing, and your heart is beating. Hmm.”

Hmm. He imagined her naked, straddling him, massaging a part of his body she’d neglected so far. He imagined the feeling of her body against his, how her skin would taste as he traced his tongue against it with long, feathery strokes, how it would feel to kiss her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. Her breasts would be firm, he was sure of it. He could see she wasn’t wearing much of a bra, and didn’t need to. Of course, she was probably insecure about that. What had her comment been about Ino? Something about tremendous breasts. How could Sakura not see that she was perfect– absolutely perfect, just the way she was?

I wonder what color bra you’re wearing.

She leaned a little lower.

Ah, black, my favorite. Suits you, too.

He imagined taking her, again and again, pleasuring her to the point of exhaustion. What would it sound like when she cried out his name? What would she look like when he’d driven her to the point where she completely lost control? An image of Sakura shimmered before him, overlaid upon the reality in front of him. Her skin was flushed, her hair covered her face as she cried out in ecstasy, cried his name over and over...

“Kakashi, if you are aware, you don’t have voluntary control of your muscles, not even your eyes. So the motor cortex within your frontal lobe could be involved. It’s definitely not a spinal problem--you have reflexes. And your eyes dilate and constrict normally. But can you feel my touch? Can you smell? Has any of this been having an effect? I’ll need to check your parietal and temporal lobes to find out.”

I can most definitely feel your touch, Sakura, and you smell like heaven. Yes, you’re having an effect on me– I’m not dead! I am definitely not dead. I want you, Sakura. And I’m a complete pervert, an even bigger hentai than Jiraiya. My former student--my current medic-- a highly respected medical professional, is talking to me about my health and I’m imagining making love to her. And I don’t want to stop.

“And how is your eye involved? The Sharingan has some critical role in all of this– it must be the thing that connects all of your symptoms. But vision is in a different lobe than these other things. Or am I just making an assumptions based on the anatomy I’ve already learned?”

You haven’t learned all of my anatomy. Not yet.

Sakura’s glance moved to the scroll sitting partially unrolled on the table nearby. That’s what I need to study! I need to–-”She jumped down from the bed and ran to grab her notebook, ignoring the oily palm print she placed on its cover. She began to scribble quickly. “I need to map out all of the places involved with visual perception and then check to see if they’ve been affected. And are these other areas in proximity to the visual centers? Could they have been shut down as well? Maybe the Sharingan somehow drained or overloaded them just because they’re neighbors to the visual centers. They can’t be shut down because of something random like a seizure, where the brain is going haywire. Your symptoms would be totally different.”

What? Don’t stop! What had she been talking about, just now, anyway? Something about his anatomy. His eye. Her brilliant mind must have made some new connection, figured out something important. He probably should have been paying attention. But really, how could he? Kakashi saw the excitement on Sakura’s face, and a smile he realized he had seen very rarely in the past eight years. True, he’d avoided her, and when they did meet she did smile, but a false smile, one that didn’t use all of the necessary muscles, a smile that left the eyes sad. It was a smile that would be convincing to most people, a smile that she’d definitely practiced to near perfection. A smile very similar to the one he often wore. Therefore, it didn’t fool him. And Kakashi was sure that this wasn’t a smile she reserved only for him. He’d come across her several times in the company of her friends, and he’d observed Sakura’s interactions without her knowledge. That smile seemed to be standard issue. He’d also come across her when she was alone, pensive. She was sad then, or serious. Had he done this to her?

And why was she alone? She was alone, he was sure of it. He never saw her in the bars or nightclubs frequented by shinobi, or in the park, or anywhere a person would go with a date. And if she were in a long-term relationship that had somehow surpassed the need to be seen in public, or some hidden tryst that required meeting in secret, he was sure he’d still know it. His friends were remarkable gossips, and so, for that matter was Sakura’s best friend. No, she was definitely alone. And she shouldn’t be. Not a woman as smart, as strong, as beautiful as she. As sweet as she. Not his Sakura. Was this his fault, too? He needed to find out.

“I’m sorry to cut your massage short, Kakashi. I need to get all this down on paper.” He heard her pen scratching, and an occasional murmur of surprise or satisfaction as she paged through her medical text or reexamined scrolls.

“I didn’t tell you about my visit with Ibiki,” Sakura said after a while.

Ibiki? Morino? Master torturer– er, “interrogator”?

“Tsunade sent me to him to learn the jutsu I’ll be using. He’s pretty creepy, but it wasn’t as bad as I feared.”

Pretty creepy? That’s an understatement. The man is a sadist, plain and simple.

“Turns out the interrogation team has done an amazing amount of research on how the brain works. They’ve classified it all as “forbidden,” which isn’t right. It’s horrible that the technique that is going to help you was tested the way it was, and even worse that we’re not putting the information they’ve gathered to use. There’s stuff in this scroll that no other medic knows, Kakashi. They’ve completely mapped the visual functioning of the brain. There are different pathways depending on whether the eyes are moving quickly, in pursuit of prey, or in opposite directions. And they’ve done a lot on paralysis, too. I’m sure there’s an interrogation-related reason for all of it, though. I’d hate to be a research subject.”

She was on the verge of something big, Kakashi could tell. Her face had the expression he’d first seen years ago– the look of someone in the process of putting two and two together. Or in this case, a more complex set of numbers.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, Kakashi. I need some coffee. I’m feeling like a zombie and it’s only midnight.”

She was only gone for five. Her face was flushed as she ran back into his room, sloshing coffee onto the floor. “Kakashi! I’ve figured something out! Have you ever heard of the “Old Hag phenomenon? I’ve been trying to go through all possible scenarios. Your coma this time is different– your records say that your eyes never opened this early before. So maybe the massages and the reading and the fragrance are helping. In that case, you’re aware. I’m sure you’re aware. So, if you’re aware, why aren’t you moving? Even your eyes aren’t moving. But you do move involuntarily– so it’s not a spinal injury. That means something else in your brain is affected. Possibly all of your motor cortex– but what would that have to do with your Sharingan? This has got to be related to you overusing that eye. That’s where the Old Hag comes in. Sometimes a person will wake up and be completely unable to move his body. People used to think an evil spirit or an old hag was the cause of it, because occasionally the person might feel as if someone was in the room, or feel a lot of anxiety, or even feel like someone was sitting on his chest. But Ibiki’s research shows that a certain part of the brain stem shuts down muscle movement during sleep– probably so that we don’t hurt ourselves by acting out our dreams. So, I was just thinking that if that switch isn’t flipped back on when a person woke up, he’d be awake, but essentially paralyzed.”

Sakura paused for a moment, then continued in a voice that was much more sober. “But what it doesn’t explain is why you can’t move your eyes. When you’re dreaming, your eyes move rapidly. They aren’t shut down by that switch. Grrr. I really thought I was onto something.” She picked up the scroll and continued reading. Kakashi wished she were in his line of sight. The ceiling was getting a bit boring.

I like it when she growls.

After a while, Sakura addressed him. “I see you’re still awake. I never pegged you as a night owl. Would you like to read?” She moved to his bed and cranked it to a semi-upright position, then moved to the recliner and picked up Icha, Icha Takutikusu.

Jinrai had moved on to a new town and a new conquest. Kakashi found he wasn’t really that interested. That was a first. The women described were standard Jiraiya fare– disproportionately top heavy, wanton, and completely interchangeable. Kakashi much preferred the woman sitting right by his side. Kakashi let his mind wander, guided only by the general direction of the words he heard. He imagined his lips on Sakura’s cherry red ones, his tongue feeling their satiny smoothness, and exploring inside her mouth. He imagined how it would to have her legs wrapped around him, and what it would feel like to enter her, to move inside her. He fervently wished he had been her first. Her only. And he suddenly realized that if he ever did have her, no one else would.

Stop it. Stop thinking about her. How was it possible that he wanted her this much?

Kakashi noticed she’d stopped reading. She’d fallen asleep again. He hoped she’d sleep the night through. She obviously needed it. So did he.

Chapter 12–Exploration

a/n This is a long chapter. Longest yet, actually. It is also the last chapter (I think) that will be discussing Kakashi’s brain in detail, so please bear with me. I wanted the opportunity to flesh out Sakura a little and show she is a lot more than she was at the start of the series. I think I am about halfway done with the story– we haven’t gotten to the fourteen dates yet (the point of the story), but I think they will be very interesting. This chapter, unlike the previous, is rated “T” but please be advised that there is more “M” stuff coming in future chapters. Kakashi is thirty-eight, after all.

You’re getting sloppy, Hatake. It was early morning, and Kakashi was wide awake. He shouldn’t have allowed his mind to run rampant the night before. Sakura was going to be taking a stroll through his mind today, and would probably jump out of her skin if she came across the memory of the fantasy he’d replayed over and over as he’d tried to fall asleep. Then she’d probably pound him to within an inch of his life. He was sure he’d burned the scene into his long term memory, where it was undoubtedly occupying a prime position, just waiting for Sakura to stumble upon it. He should have better control of his emotions. A shinobi’s greatest asset was his mind, and Kakashi had let his run amok, completely out of control.

But what were the chances Sakura would trigger this particular recollection? There must be millions of memories in his mind, and from the bits and pieces of her monologue that he’d actually listened to the night before, it didn’t sound as though she’d be exhaustive in her exam. She’d said she would be looking for specific things. But still. Kakashi sighed inwardly. He couldn’t chance Sakura finding the memory of her naked form crying out in passion. That would be awkward, to say the least.

As an ANBU operative, Kakashi had been trained by Ibiki himself in defenses against mind penetration. He’d already been on the receiving end of the jutsu that Sakura was studying, so that Ibiki could show him a technique for masking thoughts and memories. It was a meditative technique, thankfully requiring no hand seals, just the ability to concentrate. Ibiki was a master of this skill, as he’d developed it, and could seal off large portions of his mind without any signs that he’d done so. The brain cells in question would appear to have normal metabolic activity, and would be surrounded by normal amounts of chakra. To an examiner, then, the brain would appear healthy. A few memories would be hidden from view, but the examiner wouldn’t be able to tell. Kakashi had no doubt that this was why Sakura had said that her training with Ibiki hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. Ibiki hadn’t allowed her to peer deeply within his mind. It wouldn’t have been out of concern or compassion that Ibiki would have done so. He was devoid of both traits. Most likely it was because Ibiki’s mind was very much a database to be accessed on a strict need-to-know basis. Sakura had been shown the very minimum she’d need to perform the jutsu successfully. This was a good thing. The things Ibiki had done in his career as “interrogator” should not be seen by someone as caring as Sakura. Ibiki’s memories would wound her irreparably.

Kakashi had nowhere near the aptitude of Ibiki in suppressing memories. He was able to mask only one block of memories at a time. There were many things he would have blocked if he were able. But this fantasy was undoubtedly the most important.

Kakashi began meditating, practicing the masking technique, but found himself unable to concentrate. How appropriate the name of this technique was, he thought. He’d lived most of his life behind a mask, and for good reason. Sakura would be the first person to move beyond it. Not the physical mask. There had been a few women who had glimpsed his face, though he’d typically done his best to keep the lights out on those occasions. Physical pleasures just weren’t the same with a piece of cloth, however thin, covering one of the most sensitive parts of the body. And if he were going to go to all the trouble of picking up and taking home a prospective one-night stand, he wanted it to feel as good as possible.

Sakura would be the first to get a good look at the person he was inside. She was afraid of this– she’d called it rape. But Kakashi realized he was willing. He wished he could let her know this. If anyone was to find out who he really was, what had made him the person he was, he wanted it to be Sakura. She would understand, he knew. She would observe, but not judge. She would do for him what he’d done for her, years ago.

I still feel the same way about her. Damn it.

Why had he left? Why had he severed their friendship? What would she have done if he’d told her, eight years before, that he had feelings for her? Would she have understood? Would she have seen him as a twisted old man? Would she have felt violated? It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time– to leave without a word, to be gone for two years straight. But the truth was, he’d been cowardly. He’d never felt that way about a woman– or in this case, a girl– before. It had clearly been beyond the physical. But he’d done too much to isolate and insulate himself to be able to reach out back then, or even acknowledge that what he had felt for her was different– completely different– than the feelings he had felt during casual encounters.

She was stirring. Kakashi waited to hear a string of expletives. He wasn’t disappointed. She was upset she’d fallen asleep and wasted valuable hours of the limited time she had to prepare for the procedure. He heard her grumbling as she moved about the room. She was definitely not a morning person. Of course she’d made that abundantly clear years before, as a student. She was always the last to rise, staying in her bedroll despite the clanging in her ears of metal spoon against saucepan, or whatever else he could devise. Cold water worked well. And Sakura never was in a good mood, once she did roll out of bed. On several occasions she’d made it clear that she didn’t appreciate his improvised alarm clocks. Or the self-satisfied smirk that was evident, even through his mask.

“What was I dreaming about?” She muttered, still not quite awake. “Saccades. Where is that stupid scroll? Ugh. I feel like something crawled inside my mouth and died.” She stumbled into the bathroom, where he heard her groan in disgust, or perhaps despair.

“Oh. Good morning,” she said, returning to the room quite some time later. Apparently she hadn’t noticed earlier that his eyes were open. “I apologize for my language. I didn’t realize I had an audience.” Was she blushing? Well, perhaps she should be. Her creative use of expletives could put any sailor to shame. “I’m going to go home in a little while for a shower. I don’t feel quite human at the moment. But first– oh, there it is!” She dropped out of Kakashi’s line of sight. He heard her scrabbling for something under the bed. Kakashi’s mind flashed to a similar incident some time before, when he’d been treated to an absolutely lovely view of her posterior as she had reached under a desk.

“Found it. Now what was that dream about?” Sakura settled into a straight-backed chair and scanned through the medical scroll, unrolling it as she went. She became very quiet as she concentrated, and Kakashi decided his time would be best spent concentrating as well. He cleared his mind to practice the mind masking technique and was making some headway when he heard Sakura’s cry.

“Kakashi! This has to be it!” She seemed even more delighted than she had the night before when she told him about the Old Hag phenomenon. “For whatever reason, Ibiki’s team mapped the exact areas of the brain that are used during saccades–when the eye is making quick scanning movements. The visual cortex is involved, which you would expect. But so is a small area of the brain stem. And it’s so close to the area involved in the Old Hag phenomenon. This must be it!”

Sakura jumped up and grabbed her backpack, then planted a small kiss on Kakashi’s forehead, much to his surprise. “I’ll see you soon!” she called as she ran from the room.

What was that for? Kakashi wondered.

...o...o...o...o...
“I had hoped to join you this afternoon,” Tsunade said, as she stood to walk Sakura to her door, “but unfortunately, I can’t, as there is a meeting I must attend that can’t be rescheduled. The procedure you’ll be doing is not to be shared with staff, so you’ll be on your own.” She pulled a small digital recorder from her pocket, an instrument Sakura had never seen before. “I know you’ll want to take notes, so use this. It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just hit ‘record’, when you’re ready to begin, and set it someplace close by.” Tsunade saw the nervousness in her pupil’s eyes, and responded uncharacteristically, by taking Sakura’s hand in her own. “Sakura, don’t worry. Kakashi is in good hands. He’ll understand. I’m absolutely sure. Sakura, I know that I wouldn’t have come up with the hypothesis you just described to me. You are honestly the best person for the job.” She smiled and released Sakura’s hand, pulling her tight against her ample breasts. “I know you’ll make me proud.”

Tsunade must be drunk, Sakura thought to herself as she headed back to Kakashi’s room. But she hadn’t smelled of sake. And even drunk she wasn’t touchy-feely. Hmm. Maybe she meant it. Sakura suddenly felt a lot more confident.

It was past five o’clock, visiting hours were over, and Sakura was unlikely to be disturbed by the staff as she worked. Nevertheless, she locked the door, after placing a sign on the door that read, “Testing in progress– absolutely no admittance.’

“Well?” She turned to Kakashi, who looked much the same as he had earlier in the day. “Are you ready?” She felt her heart beating rapidly, and took a deep breath to calm herself. She had never before felt so anxious about performing a procedure. “I want to check your vitals first, and see if anything’s changed since yesterday.” She launched into a series of simple tests that she’d done many times over the past two weeks. The only difference she saw was that a slight amount of chakra had returned to Kakashi’s Sharingan eye.

“Kakashi, I want to tell you again how much I regret having to do this procedure. I know you value your privacy, and I know that I’m intruding. I want you to know that anything I see will remain privileged information. I won’t tell a soul, not even Tsunade. Actually, I’ll do my best to forget, as well. What I’m trying to say is – I’m sorry, Kakashi. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Her eyes glazed a bit as she struggled to fight back tears. She was successful. Her meditation practice really had worked wonders.

“I think this is going to work, you know.” She smiled a small smile, but a real smile. “Let’s begin.”

Sakura sat on the edge of Kakashi’s bed, and reached across him to place the recorder on his bedside table. She had decided that afternoon to move systematically through Kakashi’s brain. She would enter through his Sharingan eye first, and use its optic nerve to access the right side of Kakashi’s brain, the side that connected to and worked with that eye. She would then do the same with the other side of his brain, and compare the patterns she saw in each side.

Sakura made the necessary hand seals to activate the jutsu, then leaned over Kakashi’s body, placing her right hand on Kakashi’s Sharingan eye, and balancing her weight on her left hand. She allowed her chakra to trickle in at first, slowly increasing the flow until it was at the level Ibiki had indicated was necessary. She felt her chakra travel up through Kakashi’s optic nerve until it reached the barrier she had felt when examining Ibiki, then a definite surge forward as her chakra pierced the energy-laden barrier. This was Kakashi’s optic nerve, Sakura realized. The chakra signature she had felt was different from that she’d just felt in the Sharingan eye. She had wondered before whether the Sharingan eye had been transplanted with its own optic nerve, or if Rin had attached it directly to Kakashi’s system. The optic nerve connected to both the eye’s retina and to the brain. The surgery Rin had done would have been exceptionally difficult, either way. But the optic nerve was more brain-like in its makeup than other nerves– it made sense that Rin had decided to use Kakashi’s. And perhaps it had been easier to limit her work to the eye only, as she was performing surgery under less than optimal conditions, in the field. This offered a possible explanation for Kakashi’s symptoms, though. Sakura had learned through her examination of Sasuke and his daughter that the optic nerve changed as the Sharingan developed. Perhaps Kakashi’s optic nerve, not having the traits of the kekkei genkai, was not suited for these changes.

Sakura continued traveling along the optic nerve, feeling it branch as it passed through the optic chiasma. She stayed with the fibers that were traveling to the right occipital lobe, the seat of visual reception. Sakura allowed her chakra to delve into this region, closing her eyes to better concentrate on the large amounts of information her chakra was revealing.

The tissue here was healthy. Ibiki had said overworked tissue would have almost no chakra, and dead tissue would have none. All cells here appeared to be active. She allowed her chakra to move further into this region, continuing to look for any abnormalities. Suddenly, she found one, in the very area Ibiki had described as a visual center. The tissue here was not damaged. On the contrary, it was surrounded with far more chakra than was normal. It was as though she had come across a city street lit for a nighttime festival in an otherwise unremarkable village. The contrast with the surrounding tissue was extreme. This excess of energy would be causing the encompassed neurons to fire continually. If this continued, the neurons would burn out, and Kakashi’s vision would be compromised. Sakura gently pulled this excess chakra toward her, forcing it merge with her own chakra. The tissue began to glow at a more steady, dim level. She pulled the chakra into her body, and realized, with a start, that it wasn’t Kakashi’s chakra that she felt. It was the same chakra she had felt within the Sharingan– Obito’s chakra.

Part of her hypothesis had been confirmed. The Sharingan was affecting regions of the brain involved in vision– regions of the brain connected in physically linked pathways. An overload of chakra– created by the Sharingan eye-- had backed up into Kakashi’s own tissues, and was activating those neurons.

It was going to take a while to clean things up, Sakura realized. There were many locations within the brain linked to visual pathways-- Ibiki’s work had shown this. As the neurons within the pathway were physically connected, it was quite possible that if one visual region was overloaded with chakra, others were.

But had Ibiki’s work been complete? There had to be billions and billions of neurons in the brain– surely the interrogation team hadn’t learned everything there was to know. And certainly their purpose wasn’t basic research– they weren’t learning for the sake of learning. They were learning for the sake of improvements in their interrogation technique. Sakura sighed. She had wanted to avoid this, but she realized she would need to probe Kakashi’s entire brain. If she didn’t, it was quite possible she’d miss something critical, something that might cause brain damage if it were unattended to.

Well, at least this part of the cerebrum had been completely examined. Sakura moved on to the adjacent lobe, the parietal, the place where sensations of touch were received. Here was another small patch of overly bright chakra. She diminished it as before, and continued searching, moving into the frontal lobe. It was clean, Sakura saw, no damage or unusual chakra activity. She breathed a sigh of relief. The frontal lobe managed higher behaviors of humans, such as abstract thinking, creativity and personality. Damage to this part of the brain was devastating, as the person who recovered might have major changes in the traits that defined who they were as a person. Sakura noticed something else as her chakra moved within this region. Kakashi was clearly unable to move, yet the region of this lobe responsible for controlling movement was unaffected–neither too bright nor too dim, in terms of chakra. Sakura allowed her chakra to move more closely against several of these cells, surrounding them. When Ibiki had done this to her, Sakura’s balance had been compromised, as the cells involved in that response had been activated. Sakura opened her eyes, looking for some body movement from Kakashi. His hand twitched. She moved along the motor cortex and tried again. This time his leg moved. So this tissue wasn’t damaged. Some other region must be involved, keeping these neurons from firing, keeping Kakashi paralyzed.

On to the temporal lobe, then. This was the place she most feared– the site of auditory and visual memories. But she had to look– it was entirely possible that there were links back to other visual centers. She began to probe, to allow her chakra to ebb and flow around this tissue. She wouldn’t allow her chakra to move too close and trigger memories. She figured that if she did not surround these cells, they wouldn’t fire. She was wrong. Despite her caution, memories spilled out. Apparently these cells were more sensitive than those of the motor cortex. Some memories were mundane– Sakura saw, in her mind’s eye the Ichiraku ramen shop, and a typically hyperactive Naruto eating faster than one might have thought humanly possible. Another memory flashed on– a woodland scene. A pack of dogs appeared from nowhere. Sakura remembered these dogs from the fight with Zabuza. Yet another memory, this time with audio– “Kakashi, you’ve made us very proud.” A silver haired man said these words, a man with the same build as Kakashi, and the same hooded eyes. He was breathtakingly handsome in his jounin uniform. The woman next to him was slight, with long black hair and warm brown eyes. She bent down, presumably to give Kakashi a hug. These must be his parents. He must have been young– his mother knelt to hug him. Sakura remembered hearing that Kakashi had been a prodigy. Perhaps this was the day he became a chunin.

Sakura didn’t want to see and hear these memories. They were private. She tried to move quickly through this part of his brain, but more and more memories flashed on, and once on, she couldn’t escape them. Here was team seven, but as twelve year olds. Sakura heard Kakashi’s laughter as he tied Naruto to the tree stump, and felt something, as well– a feeling of hope that this team might actually pass the test. And there she was, suspended by her feet from the limb of an evergreen. It was the day they’d learned tree-walking. A feeling of pride filled her. But, she realized, it wasn’t her own feeling– it was Kakashi’s. He had been proud of me. Was Kurenai right?

Sakura had completed exploring Kakashi’s cerebrum– this side of it, anyway. She hadn’t touched the other hemisphere yet. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen anything too private. She was glad. She moved along the surface of his brain, to the place closest to the base of Kakashi’s skull– the cerebellum. She was pleased to find that it was completely normal.

Now onto the brain stem, the part of the brain that managed vital functions, such as heart rate, respiration, and certain reflexes. It was also the part of the brain that determined whether a person was asleep or awake and alert. This region was the part of the brain that must be involved in the Old Hag phenomenon. Ibiki’s work had shown that certain eye movements linked back to this region. Sakura began to explore its surface. Disappointingly, the tissue was evenly lit, as Ibiki’s had been. She delved deeper and nearly shouted.

“Kakashi! It’s here!” Two very small regions were lit even more brightly than the visual centers had been. Sakura thought back to the drawings she’d made. The first region was the center for arousal– the part of the brain that controlled sleeping and waking. Only a very small part of this center burned brighter than its neighboring cells. Apparently, then, Kakashi had been aware. The only part that was overly lit was the small bundle of cells involved in the Old Hag phenomenon– the cells that shut down body movement during dreams. The second region of brightly lit cells was the small cluster of cells involved in controlling eye movement. With these cells over excited, the signal to move would not be transmitted, and Kakashi would be unable to move his eyes. Sakura had been right. Kakashi had been aware, just unable to move. And the reason for this was as she had predicted. Sakura smiled as she carefully surrounded these two regions with her chakra, and drew off the excess energy, concentrating to draw it out of Kakashi’s body and into her own.

She nearly jumped as she felt a hand grab her arm.

“Sa–“ His voice was hoarse as he struggled to say her name.

“Kakashi.” Sakura couldn’t say anything more. She felt relief wash over her.

“Sakura. Thank you.” He spoke slowly. It was obviously an effort to speak.

Sakura regarded him. The little of his face that she could see was peaceful. His face was relaxed, his eye lazily hooded as it normally was. She saw it crinkle in the way that it did when he smiled.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Kakashi, I’m not done yet. I’m only halfway done. I need to make sure nothing else is overloaded. Are you okay with that?”

Kakashi nodded. “I think you know best,” he said, and closed his eyes.

Sakura used her left hand, this time, and entered Kakashi’s right eye, exploring each region of his brain’s left hemisphere. Everything appeared to be normal. The visual centers were not lit here– apparently communication between these cells and the Sharingan was normal. This also meant that probably he had been able to see with his native eye during these past days.

There was only one region left– the temporal lobe. Sakura gingerly allowed her chakra to move forward into it, and immediately memories rushed at her. She saw a mountainous region, and Sasuke practicing chidori, blasting tremendous holes into a rock face, a look of satisfaction in his face. Another image replaced it. She saw herself in close-up, apparently only inches away from Kakashi’s face. Her eyes were red and puffy. She’d been crying, and he was comforting her. She felt the warmth of his affection to her, his concern.

So why did he leave? The thought intruded on her.

Sakura pushed on, moving as quickly as she could through this minefield of memories. She saw Naruto lying near an immensely tall statue, his body lifeless. She heard the thought, “I’m too late,” and a feeling of despair. The image flickered, and was replaced with another. She saw a boy who looked a bit like Sasuke, and who, like Sasuke, had eyes of Sharingan red. She heard a shout, then a crashing of boulders. Dust cleared, and she saw the boy’s right side was pinned, crushed under tons of rock. She felt anguish and tremendous guilt. She shouldn’t be seeing this. Then, she realized, the guilt she felt was not only her own. The images faded. Now she heard only words. Jiraiya’s words, it seemed. First in Kakashi’s voice, then in her own voice. Sakura blushed deeply. Apparently he’d heard and processed what she’d read.

There wasn’t much left to probe. Sakura sighed with relief at the fact that this examination was nearly complete. Then she gasped. Another memory had rushed into view–clearer then some of the others. It was joined with intense, overwhelming emotion. She heard a young boy’s voice call “Father?” and saw the back of the tall, handsome jounin she had inferred was Kakashi’s dad. The man turned, and Sakura saw the kunai he had pushed into his abdomen, then twisted until blood flowed freely. His blood drenched his clothing and spattered to the ground. “Kakashi,” the man cried, as he dropped to his knees, still pressing the knife into his flesh. “Live with honor, son. There is nothing else.”

Sakura’s hand dropped to her side. Her tears flowed freely.

“Kakashi. I am so sorry. I didn’t want to do this to you.”

Kakashi’s eyes were closed, but he reached for her, and pulled her to him. “Sakura. Don’t apologize.”

Chapter 13–Discharge

a/n You really shouldn’t be reading this if you don’t want to read about Kakashi’s fantasy life. The man reads semi-pornographic novels, for crying out loud! Also, there will be a relationship developing between Kakashi and Sakura, and there will be details. You’ve been warned!

Sakura stretched a bit, and nestled into the warm pillow that lay against her cheek. It wasn’t as soft as she was used to, though, but it smelled wonderful– a bit like a freshly- cut meadow, mixed with a distinctly earthy, masculine scent. Sakura lifted her head and took in her surroundings. Kuso. She’d fallen asleep. Her head had been resting on Kakashi’s chest. How exactly had she ended up in this position, halfway curled against his side, halfway draped across him? She had been distraught over what she had inadvertently seen, upset over invading his most private memories, and had backed away from him with a truly contrite feeling in her heart and an apology on her lips. But Kakashi had pulled her close. Told her not to apologize. He hadn’t said another word, but what he had said sounded so accepting, so unperturbed. Sakura had felt so comfortable then, so at home, the way she’d felt years ago when he’d been the support she’d needed to get through the losses that had nearly devastated her. She’d fallen asleep in his arms several times back then, though she’d always awakened later in her own apartment, in her own bed, with a hastily scrawled note for company.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms tonight, completely drained from the experience of exploring his mind, and by the anxiety that had dogged her as she had anticipated the procedure. Sakura slipped out of the bed she lay in now, carefully removing the arm that Kakashi had draped loosely around her, and pushing aside the spare blanket that somehow had been pulled up to cover her. He had not minded her presence, it seemed. Or perhaps he had just been too tired to send her on her way. Hmm. Probably the latter, knowing Kakashi. Only Shikamaru was lazier, it seemed. What time was it? Eleven. This is completely inappropriate. The staff must be wondering why she’d been in here so long. The sign she’d clipped to the door pretty much advertised the fact that she was present– her handwriting was distinct-- and the nursing staff would have come by at least twice in the intervening time to check on their patient, and noted the locked door. It didn’t matter, though, Sakura told herself. Most of the staff, even many of the younger medics, were afraid of her. Just a glance from Sakura would stop any gossip dead in its tracks.

Sakura reached in her backpack for a comb, and hastily arranged her hair into a style that looked less sleep-mussed. She ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and wrote a quick note to Kakashi, forbidding him to leave until she formally discharged him. She would need to run a battery of neurological tests to be sure he was completely healed. She hoped he wouldn’t discharge himself in her absence, or just skip out, as he’d done many times before.

What am I thinking? Sakura laughed as she crumpled up the note. If he were able to walk (and he should be– two weeks resting in the hospital was not very debilitating to a person in Kakashi’s prime physical condition), he would be out the door at the first opportunity. Sakura really had no choice– she’d have to stay. And considering that this procedure was new (to her, anyway), staying was the prudent thing to do. Running away because she was embarrassed to have woken up in his arms was just silly– it was something a teenager might do. The recliner wasn’t the worst place to spend the night, especially if she actually reclined it– something she’d neglected to do the other times she’d fallen asleep in it. Perhaps that was an indication of how tired she’d been these past two weeks. It was good that this was finally coming to an end.

Sakura went to the door, unlocked it and opened it. The hall was quiet, she noticed, hearing only the soft tones of pages and the hum of machinery, and it was brightly lit, as usual. Her homemade sign was still in place. She pulled it from the door, absentmindedly folded it into a small square, then closed the door until it was just ajar.

Sakura did not relish another night sleeping in her medic’s uniform. Unlike a jounin’s uniform, it certainly wasn’t built for comfort– the shirt was cut to be close-fitting, and she found that it twisted and bound up as she moved in her sleep, and the waist band of the short, matching skirt dug into her. She had an oversized t-shirt and knit shorts in her pack– those two items alone would be much more comfortable. She’d packed in hope of a run this afternoon, but the time spent with Tsunade had precluded that. The woman had eaten up a good two hours with her talk about changes to staffing and the need to recruit more students to the health professions. And that was before Sakura had launched into her update on Kakashi and her revised hypotheses about the cause of his condition.

She turned to Kakashi and quickly assessed the man propped up in bed. He was still sleeping. His breathing was regular, body relaxed. Too tired to make the short trip to the bathroom, Sakura turned her back to the door, in case of an unexpected visitor, and quickly slipped out of her medic uniform, then bent over her pack to retrieve her shirt and shorts. She removed her bra and stretched. It was a pointless piece of clothing, for her anyway, yet so confining. The soft jersey of her shirt and shorts felt refreshing against her skin. Sakura grabbed the blanket that lay crumpled at the foot of Kakashi’s bed and climbed into the recliner. Hopefully she’d wake each time the nursing staff came in, and take a quick look at Kakashi. They were typically fairly noisy as they went about their business. And if they didn’t wake her, well, she guessed that would be okay, too. She was so tired.

Kakashi wasn’t sleeping, of course. He’d watched Sakura fall asleep in his arms, and inhaled the fragrance of her newly-washed hair. Her presence was intoxicating. He refrained from kissing the top of her head, but did allow himself the pleasure of gently touching her hair. It was as soft and silken as he’d remembered. After some time contemplating the woman lying half on top of him, Kakashi had carefully moved her so that he could grab a blanket to keep her from getting cold. He’d then rearranged her against him, noting the smile on her face as he did so, and the way she so readily curled up against him. He barely noticed that he’d slid his arm around her until he felt it moving with the steady rhythm of her breath.

There was no doubt in his mind now. He was still in love with her.

So what are you going to do about it?

I don’t know.

Wait another eight years?

She’d stirred then, and Kakashi lulled his body into the relaxed, even rhythm of someone deeply sleeping. Nonetheless, he was keenly aware of her movements. Through his nearly-closed eye he glimpsed her, and saw the gamut of emotions she ran through in only a few moments time. She felt pleasure, then shock, then embarrassment, mixed with disapproval. She’d been ready to leave, it seemed, even going so far as to write a note. Then she’d laughed, though he couldn’t tell if it was directed at her or at him.

Her labile emotions were amusing, but that was only the beginning of the entertainment, it seemed. Kakashi was glad the evening’s examination was well over, as Sakura unwittingly made real a fantasy from the night before. These images would be burned permanently into a large chunk of his grey matter, he thought. During his last massage, after catching a teasing glimpse of her brassiere, Kakashi had wondered just what she must look like under her uniform, and had spent several hours imagining the curves, valleys and plains hidden by the utilitarian cloth. Now, as she unknowingly revealed herself to him, his curiosity was almost satisfied. Almost. The profile view of her creamy skin starkly contrasted against plain black bra and matching panties showed him a lot, but now he wondered just how firm her breasts were. Apparently, Kakashi was a very lucky man, or perhaps the gods he never prayed to had perversely chosen to favor him. Again Sakura unwittingly obliged him, giving him an even better view of her perfect breasts, turning slightly toward him as she removed her bra. To make things worse, she languidly stretched first her arms overhead and then arched her neck and back. Mmm. Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. And she didn’t even look his way, once she had satisfied herself that he was asleep. That was really quite amusing, as his eye had been wide open by the time she’d removed her shirt. And now, all of him was wide awake.

What would you give to see that every night?

Hmm. Well I could put those jounin techniques to good use and play the peeping tom...

What would you give to do more than see it?

Anything.

He nearly groaned aloud. Kakashi closed his eyes and hoped sleep would take him soon. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to control himself, otherwise.

...o...o...o...o...

“What do you think you’re doing?” The sun had not yet risen, and through the twilit room Sakura saw the silhouette of Kakashi rifling though the room’s cupboard. Sakura’s voice had the irritated quality it typically did in the morning.

“Oh. I thought you were still asleep.”

Sakura switched on a lamp. “You know, your gown doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Well, then, I hope you’re enjoying the view.” Kakashi did nothing to cover up his hindquarters, and instead continued to look within the cabinets.

“If you’re looking for your clothes, they’ll be in a plastic bag, hanging from a hook.”

“All that’s in there is my vest.”

“Well, your clothes were blood-soaked -– the staff probably burned them. Hasn’t that ever happened to you before? You’ve been here often enough.” Sakura was irritated. She knew he had a tendency to sneak out of hospitals, but she’d hoped he’d treat this situation differently, considering their past friendship.

Kakashi returned to his bed, and sat at the foot of it, eyeing Sakura silently.

“You’re not leaving here until I have a chance to do a full neurological exam.” Sakura moved to his side and grabbed his arm, frowning at the bloodied mess she saw at his wrist. She removed gauze and bandages from the cabinet and returned to his side. “I would have been happy to remove the IV for you, and could have called in a nurse to take care of your catheter.” She blushed despite herself. She had inserted and removed catheters on countless occasions– why was even the mention of doing so embarrassing her? “Kakashi,” she said, more abruptly than she intended, “do you like causing yourself pain?”

“You know how much I hate it here.” Kakashi stood as soon as his wrist was wrapped and prowled around the room, like an animal eager to find an overlooked escape route. He stopped at the recliner and flopped into it, sighing.

Sakura passed him the copy of Icha, Icha Takutikusu without asking. “A leopard doesn’t change his spots, after all,” she said to herself.

“I’m having a hard time imagining you purchasing this, Sakura.” There was a smile in his eyes.

“I didn’t. Read the inscription.”

“Ah. That explains things.” He opened the book to the place where Sakura had left off, a folded piece of paper falling out as he did so. He opened up the crown Gemna had made for him and looked at Sakura curiously. “Do I want to know?”

She laughed despite the early hour and her irritable mood. “Probably not. You don’t remember everything, do you? All the more reason for that exam.”

Kakashi sighed. He’d forgotten how stubborn she could be. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Depends.”

“Would you stop by my apartment and pick up some clothes?”

“Hmm. Yes. I guess you won’t be going anywhere until I get back. Do you still live at the same place?”

Kakashi nodded. “The key is on the lintel. Don’t press the front light switch– it’s booby trapped.”

“Anything else I should know to avoid blowing myself up?”

“I think you’ll be okay. You’re a jounin, after all.”

“Notice that he didn’t answer the question,” Sakura thought to herself. “Same old Kakashi.” She pulled on her sandals and grabbed her backpack. “I won’t be long-- I need a shower myself. See you in about an hour, okay?”

Kakashi looked up from the page he was examining, a distracted look in his eye. “Mmm.”

...o...o...o...o...

Kakashi’s apartment was exactly as Sakura had remembered it, apart from the thick layer of dust that coated every surface. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light that entered as Sakura cracked the blinds in the kitchen and living room. He must have been gone for months– that explained why she hadn’t seen even a trace of him for ages. Even the furniture was the same as eight years prior. Sakura glanced around the small, efficient apartment that was furnished in stereotypical bachelor fashion. She remembered the comfortable, black leather sofa where she’d sat many times, and the matching black armchair. He still hadn’t purchased a coffee table and the end tables were the mismatched pair she remembered. Kakashi hadn’t entertained much, eight years ago, and by the looks of things, he still did not. Sakura had only been there four times before today– once to an impromptu dinner with Naruto and Sasuke, and three times to cry on Kakashi’s shoulder. The living room made the same impression on her then as it did now. Like the rest of the place, the room was quite masculine and almost colorless. A large flokati rug covered a good portion of the living room floor, and added a badly-needed bit of texture and warmth to the room, but the walls, like those of the rest of the space were basic landlord-issue white. So were the dusty white mini-blinds that were the windows’ only decorations. The room was devoid of personality, for the most part. Sakura had no doubt that this was intentional on Kakashi’s part. There was no art on the walls, and only a single plant, which was on the verge of death after not being watered for what looked like months.

The only personal items in the room, apart from the plant were the two framed photographs that stood on a table below a window. She had looked at these before, years ago. One was of Team Seven, showing a scowling Sasuke, an irritated Naruto and a smiling Sakura. Kakashi appeared to be smiling as well, if his eye were any indication. The other photo was of a much younger Kakashi and teammates. Kakashi did not appear to be much older than the twelve-year-olds in the Team Seven photo. Sakura noted he was already wearing a mask, despite his young age. Sakura immediately recognized Obito, and it was hard to mistake the fourth Hokage, then known as the Yellow Flash. The girl, she inferred, was Rin, the medic who’d transplanted Obito’s eye. There was a parallel between the two portraits. Like Sakura, Rin was smiling, and like Naruto, Obito seemed annoyed. Kakash’s expression was hard to read, as only his eyes were visible, but the look in her eyes reminded her of something she’d seen many times in Sasuke’s. It was an arrogant, bored look, as though he were tired of kid stuff.

Sakura moved down a short hallway and into the one room she hadn’t visited before, the apartment’s sole bedroom. There was a little more personality evident here, no doubt because this place was private, and the room seemed a bit warmer as a result. The futon covering the low bed was decorated in a traditional kasuri fabric of indigo and white woven into an abstract pattern that looked something like manji or shuriken. A tall black bookcase was completely filled with orange-bound Icha, Icha novels, and close by, near the room’s one window, stood a well-worn, yet comfortable-looking navy blue armchair and footstool, as well as a small wood table. A brushed aluminum lamp and a small frame were the table’s only furnishings. Sakura picked up the frame and regarded it. She recognized the woman immediately– Kakashi’s mother. What had become of her? Hadn’t Kakashi, in one of his rare, communicative moods once said that everyone he loved was dead?

Sakura turned to the dresser that dominated the room. Despite its large quantity of surface area, its top was completely devoid of anything except dust. There was absolutely no clutter, but this was in keeping with Kakashi’s personality, and that of most shinobi. Like other ninja, including Sakura, Kakashi thrived on order and precision. Having this personality trait was a near necessity to be able to put up with the demanding, repetitive training and self-control the job required. The only ninja Sakura could think of that did not share this trait was Naruto, who was an embodiment of chaos.

Sakura pulled a drawer open and quickly located some boxer briefs and an undershirt, then moved to his closet. It was extremely well organized, filled almost entirely with the plain, knit shirts and pants that comprised his jounin wardrobe. There were one extra vest, and two dress uniforms, as well, but almost no civilian wear. The man had no life outside of work, it was obvious. Neatly arranged at the bottom of the closet were several pairs of the open toed sandals favored by ninja. A pair of flip flops and a lone pair of dress shoes were the only other footwear. Sakura grabbed a shirt, and a pair of pants and sandals, and headed to the bathroom. She hastily grabbed some toiletries and left the apartment, then hurried to her own home to shower and change.

...o...o...o...o...

She’d taken longer than she’d promised, thought Kakashi, looking at the clock. Apparently he wasn’t the only person with a problem with promptness. He closed his uncovered eye as he reflected on the person with whom he’d spent most of past two weeks. Sakura had changed a lot in eight years, that was certain. She was a more prickly now, and a lot more reserved. He had expected some type of conversation between them this morning– perhaps a flustered apology or excuse from Sakura to explain how she’d fallen asleep against him, or maybe even an angry questioning of why he had let her do so. That was part of the reason he’d gotten up so early. He had wanted to avoid a confrontation, but not for his usual reasons. He usually ducked and wove during similar conversations to keep the mask on, to prevent anyone from getting any small clues that might help them better understand him. Now he was afraid that he might say something that would send Sakura running away. He didn’t want that, and he needed time to think, to plan the best way to let her know his feelings. Hence the need to get out of the place that was her domain.

“Time for your sponge bath!” Kakashi’s eye jolted open. Here was the nurse from yesterday and the day before, accompanied by not one, but two new companions. “What are we doing out of bed? No one mentioned we’d come out of the coma. Well, let’s go back to bed, shall we, so we can get started?” Kakashi did not budge. The two companions tittered and whispered behind their upheld hands– he either did or did not meet their expectations in a big way. This was annoying.

“I think I can handle washing up myself.”

The nurse flushed. “No, no, you’re on my chart for today, and I’m not allowed to deviate–“

“Tanaka, that’s enough. Proceed with your other duties.” Sakura’s voice was crisp and authoritative as she strolled into the room. Kakashi nearly laughed aloud at the cowed look in the eyes of the nurse and her companions.

“The humiliations never end, do they?” said Sakura once the trio had left. “I can see why you’re so eager to get out of here. There really is no privacy.” She looked away for a moment, and seemed about to say something. Kakashi guessed she was on the verge of apologizing again for viewing his memories. He hoped she wouldn’t. It wasn’t time for that conversation yet. Thankfully, she changed the subject. “Here’s your stuff. I brought you some shampoo and some other things I thought you might need. If you feel up to taking a shower, I can have an orderly assist you. Of course, any one of those nurses would be happy to help...” She couldn’t help smiling at the brief look of panic in Kakashi’s eye. She only glimpsed it for a moment, though.

“You’re assigned to me, aren’t you, Sakura?”

She smiled wryly. “You’re my entire workload at the moment.”

“So, then, you’ll be in the room. I’ll let you know if I need help.” He picked up the bag containing his belongings and headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t forget these!” Sakura threw two towels at him, which he caught without even looking around. “Reaction time is about normal,” Sakura noted to herself with a smile.

“Ah, much better,” said Kakashi as he exited the bathroom, towel draped over his head. “I really needed a shave. Thanks for thinking of that.” He was almost completely dressed in his uniform, Sakura noted, apart from his feet, which were still bare.

“Can’t find my hitae-ate,” he continued, rubbing the terrycloth through his hair.

“Oh, so that’s how you style it. I guessed you didn’t use a brush,” Sakura giggled. “Your hitae-ate is in the nightstand drawer. But don’t put it on yet. I’ll need to examine your eye.”

Kakashi grunted his assent. It was obvious that he was anxious to leave. “The exam really won’t take that long. Are you ready to get started? First, stand up straight, and extend your arms level with your shoulder.” Kakashi complied. “Close your eyes, and slowly touch your left index finger to your nose.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I showed you some taijutsu? I’m not drunk, you know. Do I count backwards from 100 next?”

“I know this is unusual for you, Kakashi, but you’re not in a position of power here. I am. And I do know what I’m doing. So do what I ask, when I ask it, and you’ll get out of here a lot sooner.” Her tone of voice was surprisingly similar to what she’d used with the sponge-wielding nurse a scant half hour earlier.

Kakashi sighed, but put up no more resistance. An hour later, Sakura had the information she needed. “You’re free to go. Tsunade will want you to check in with her, but wait until tomorrow. I’ll need to write up my findings for her first. If I had to guess, I’d say that she’s unlikely to assign you to active duty for a while. Because the procedure was experimental, we’ll need to keep an eye on you. I’ll stop by your place in the morning to see how you’re doing.” Sakura packed her backpack with the scrolls, textbook, recorder and notebook, then picked up Kakashi’s bulging file. “I’m really glad that this worked, Kakashi,” she said before she exited the room.

“Me, too,” said Kakashi, but Sakura was already gone.