Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Minato liked telling him the story, of split souls, inked names in skin, a time before humans, of kami’s and wild things. Kakashi tuned it out. It wasn’t as good as Icha Icha, and Minato was a lovesick idiot.

He never expected to wake up in the middle of the night, sweat sticking to his skin, screaming. Everything burned. Nightmares didn’t bother him. Not anymore. There wasn’t much left to truly frighten him, and besides, he liked seeing Obito in his dreams. It was better than glancing into a mirror and seeing his eye staring back at him, Sharingan red.

Stupidly, he went to Minato. His mentor was half-asleep, still at his desk and drooling into the paperwork.

“Minato-sensei.” Kakashi shook him awake. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Minato was instantly alert. “What happened?”

Kakashi was everything a shinobi should be. He was composed and blank. He never gave anything away, and he trained every spare minute. Now he was a thirteen year old boy, and everything came out in a flood of words.

Minato laughed.

“What?” Kakashi asked, irritated.

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly. “Take off your shirt.”

Kakashi didn’t disobey orders, so he slipped it off, confused and annoyed.

Still smiling, Minato walked around him to look at his back. It grew silent. “What?” Kakashi kept his voice level. “You’re being weird.”

“Sorry,” Minato said. “It’s just – it’s your soulmate name.”

He stiffened. “Tell me.”

Minato grasped his shoulder, turning him around. His eyes were full of sympathy. “It says Uchiha.”

“Not Obito.” It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t stand having Obito’s eye, Obito’s name carved into his skin. It wasn’t possible anyway. Obito was dead.

“No,” Minato assured. “If your soulmate was – well, it would be gray. Yours is new. Black.”

Not Obito. That was all that mattered. He didn’t like the Uchiha, and they didn’t like him. Sometimes he considered cutting out this eye and giving it to them, but that hadn’t been what Obito wanted. Kakashi had been selfish enough. If all he could do was honor Obito’s last wish, then that was all he would do.

“Guess it doesn’t matter then,” Kakashi shrugged.

Minato tilted his head. “Oh? Why not?”

He snorted. “Uchiha don’t marry out of the clan anyway.”

Carefully, he flipped the body over. Classic Uchiha features, the high cheekbones, the dark hair. Only eight years old. A child. Kakashi sighed heavily, rising to his feet and nodding at the masked woman next to him.

“Dead,” he said when she didn’t reply. “They’re all dead.”

Yugao stared at him. “Itachi couldn’t have done this.”

Itachi was all too much like him. Prodigy. A soldier too young. Kakashi wondered if he could have done this, killed his own family, one after the other. Parents, elders, children. Maybe another version of him could have. Maybe this wasn’t as clear-cut as it seemed.

“That’s not our job,” he told her. “I’ll report this to the Hokage. Look for survivors.”

She straightened. “If there are any left, I’ll find them.”

Kakashi mustered a feigned smile and flickered away.

Later, he found the name on his back. It was black, the characters bold and unchanged. They were alive, and now he had narrowed it down to only two possibilities. Itachi Uchiha, a murderer. Sasuke Uchiha, a child.

Fuck. Fuck.

“My first impression of you?” He tapped his chin, looking upwards as if in thought. “I hate you all.”

Their faces fell.

It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Minato had been a father to him, and Kakashi had done nothing for his son. Sasuke was all of his own arrogance and none of Obito’s goodness. Sakura was soft and civilian-born.

He had no intention of passing them, but somehow, they didn’t fail.

Kakashi didn’t mean to like them either, but they were all pretty cute. They ran around and caught cats and complained about him being late.

Like now.

He dropped in on the bridge to two loud accusations of “late”. Sasuke’s thinly veiled glance of annoyance was no different.

“Yo,” he waved jauntily. “Let’s see… today… training.”

“You told us to come at eight,” Sakura accused, pointing at him. “Do you see my hair, sensei? I didn’t get to blow dry this morning.”

“Sakura-chan,” he reached over, messing up her hair and ignoring her protests.  It looked the same to him, but he wasn’t ever going to understand girls at twelve. Asuma and Kakashi both agreed that Kurenai would be better. “Don’t you think it makes more sense to shower after training?”

“I do both,” she lifted her chin haughtily.

“What are we doing?” Sasuke asked, impatient, and Sakura immediately transferred her gaze to him, staring with adoration.

Kakashi only hoped he wouldn’t break her heart like he had done with Rin.

“Washing my ninken,” he smiled.

“What?” Naruto’s eyes widened. “That’s not training! How are we supposed to defeat the bad guys by – that!”

“Dobe’s not wrong,” Sasuke admitted.

Kakashi ignored him. “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

“I can do it!” Naruto punched at the sky. “I can do anything. I’m going to be Hokage. I can wash your… whatever!”

Sasuke began arguing with him, but Sakura turned to him, green eyes knowing.

“I see what you did there, you know,” she informed him, crossing her arms.

He smiled, genuinely this time, and ruffled her hair again.

Dragging his mask down, he took a sip of the sake, gaze intent on his orange-covered novel. Kakashi giggled, flipping to the next page. He had always loved this chapter – some of Jiraiya’s best prose.

“Are you done giggling at porn?” Asuma asked him.

“When you decide to be more interesting than porn,” Kakashi said, not glancing up from the text.

“I can take that,” Kurenai leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Are you signing up your kids for the chunin exams?”

His kids. He knew Asuma and Kurenai had almost a parental or older sibling relationship with their genins. Minato hadn’t been too different for him, but Kakashi couldn’t do the same. Another way he had failed his sensei, but he couldn’t replace Minato for Naruto. He was wary of Sasuke with his matching Sharingan red eyes, and he couldn’t understand Sakura and her happy, girlish chatter.

None of them were ready for the chunin exams.

“Yeah,” Asuma said. “Not sure if they’re there yet, but I’ve got a good feeling about Shikamaru.”

Kurenari raised her eyebrows. “Already? They’re so young.”

“It’s been done younger,” Asuma shrugged. Neither of them glance toward Kakashi. “Besides, it’s not like I think they’ll pass, but no one becomes a chunin on their first try.” He grinned at Kurenai. “Your kids not up to par?”

“Stop flirting,” Kakashi flipped another page.

“I’m not,” Asuma protested, reddening. He was, but it wasn’t really Kakashi’s business. What was his business was to make every possible situation as difficult for Asuma was possible.

Kurenai took mercy. “I was planning to. I’m not so sure if Hinata’s ready though. What about you, Kakashi?”

Kakashi reached for his sake. “Yes.”

“Planning on expanding on that?” Asuma asked.

Kakashi glanced up. “I bet Gai my genins would do better.”

Kurenai sighed.

It was morning. Evening. Night. He wasn’t sure. The colors of the sky changed, bleeding blue to black to red. Like a bruise. He wasn’t really paying attention, not to anything but the memorial stone before him. Not to anything but Obito’s name.

“I failed him, didn’t I?” He asked Obito. “I failed Sasuke. I failed you.”

Sasuke was gone, hungry for power. Naruto was chasing him. Sakura was the broken-hearted thing left sleeping on a bench. It was Kakashi who realized he was gone. It was Kakashi who found Sakura, still asleep. It was Kakashi who gripped her shoulder, uncertain and awkward, as she broke into tears.

“I asked him to let me come too,” she confessed. “I betrayed the village too. I’m a traitor.”

If there was anything he wanted to teach his team, it had been loyalty. Kakashi wouldn’t fault her for learning that lesson all too well. “I won’t tell anyone, Sakura,” he promised her. It was all the reassurance he could give.

The same story. Kakashi broke Rin’s heart. Sasuke broke Sakura’s heart.

But Kakashi had learned.

“I thought it could be Sasuke,” he told Obito. “Not like Minato and Kushina. Different. Like I was put in his path to save him. To value his friends, his village, over revenge.”

Soulmates were almost always lovers, but sometimes it was a little different. The legendary Sannin all had each other’s name written in their skin. They could never be separate from each other, no matter the treachery and the betrayal. He had hoped he was meant to be Sasuke’s mentor. To do right by him.

“I was wrong,” he sighed, staring down at his hands. “I was always wrong.”

Rin touched his shoulder, a teenager still, pretty smile. “I forgive you, Kakashi. I always forgive you.”

He stared at her. It wasn’t often she would come to him, sweet eyes, gentle voice. Rin. He didn’t have her eye, didn’t have her surname, but she was seared in his blood anyway. “I wish you didn’t,” he said. “And I wish you’d send Obito.”

“Obito will talk to you when you stop being an idiot,” Rin pursed her lips.

It was a strange scene, but it wasn’t as if anyone else could see it. A man bowed to his knees. A girl standing before him, bestowing her forgiveness, her smile.

“I failed him, Rin,” he shook his head, but he couldn’t expect her to understand. She never had a chance to grow older. To understand.

“It’s not the same, Kakashi,” she knelt down to be eye level with him, clutching his shoulders. “It’s not the same story. You have to stop thinking it is.”

“I know,” Kakashi looked down again. “I know. But it’s too much the same.”

He could see Obito’s determination in Naruto’s smile. Rin’s hope in Sakura’s eyes. And him, himhimhim, in Sasuke’s arrogance.

When he looked up again, she was gone.

Hands shoved in his pockets, he strolled in the Yamanaka’s flower shop. It was always nauseatingly sweet in here, but Kakashi had a sensitive nose. It wasn’t too bad. By now, he was used to it.

It was Asuma’s genin standing behind the counter. “Hatake-san,” she smiled sweetly. “Your usual? We have a discount on roses, you know.”

Kakashi feigned a smile at her. “The usual’s fine.” It was always lilies, and even if he was seeing someone, he wouldn’t tell Ino. She was only thirteen, but she was already as big a gossip as her mother. And, perhaps, as good at secrets as her father.

It was difficult to tell. He didn’t understand girls any more than he did a year ago.

“Coming right up,” she chirped. “It’ll go on your tab.”

Kakashi paid at the end of each month. He was never late for that.

“So,” she leaned forward. “Seen Sakura lately?”

“I’m not a genin sensei anymore,” he said, but he had a feeling she already knew.

“Huh,” she widened her eyes. “You know, Shikamaru still trains with us, even though he’s ahead now.”

Kakashi had a feeling it was time for him to go, but Ino had a vice-like grip on his flowers. Asuma always complained about how conniving Ino was, but Kakashi had never taken him seriously. She was a child, as shallow as Sakura, more concerned about boys and blow drying her hair than much else.

“That’s nice,” he said politely.

“I’ve seen Sakura, lately,” she leaned in more. “It’s so sad, you know. She gets her heartbreak by that Uchiha. Naruto leaves to train with someone else. And then her own sensei doesn’t show up for practice.”

“I hear she’s training with Tsunade,” he offered a cheerful smile. “An honor.” It seemed fitting. All his students were training with a Sannin. He expected Sakura wouldn’t want to continue as a genin, but he was pleasantly surprised.

It didn’t matter, either way. He had never been the right sensei for her.

Ino rolled her eyes and shoved the flowers at him. “You’re awful.”

“I won’t argue,” he took the flowers and left, still smiling.

“Kakashi-sensei!”

A voice carried to reach him, and he stiffened but kept walking. There was only one person in the village who would call him that. It was a title he didn’t deserve, and he almost turned around to ask her to stop calling him that, but he didn’t know what else to ask of her.

Kakashi? He didn’t mind, but Sakura was always too polite. Hatake? No, that was too strange.

“Yo, Sakura-chan,” he glanced up from his book when she caught up with him, out of breath. He crinkled an eye at her. “Congrats.”

“What?” She furrowed her brows. “Oh. Thanks. But that was months ago.”

He shrugged. “But I didn’t congratulate you then.”

Only one of his students had made it to chunin, and it wasn’t the one he expected. But he didn’t put much stock in his expectations anymore. They had turned out wrong and wrong again. He had never given Sakura enough credit, and she had always been too good to hold it against him.

Well, maybe. He had never stuck around long enough to find out. Kakashi had left chocolates at her window after he had returned from a mission to find his ex-student was a chunin, but there was no card. Better she imagine it was from some secret admirer than her old sensei. The Sakura he knew would like that, but he didn’t know her anymore.

She smiled shyly. “Okay.”

They walked in silence a little, and Kakashi let Sakura gather up the courage for whatever it was she wanted to ask. He knew her enough for that. It was written all over her face, from her scrunched up nose to the way her eyes kept darting up at him.

“Kakashi-sensei?” She sucked in a breath. “Do you have a soulmate?”

He glanced at her, surprised. It was about time. She had probably known for two years now, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. All apart from each other, all of his genins would have gotten their names by now, if they had any. If it was Sasuke, he would know. If it was Itachi, he had known for a while now.

“Isn’t this a better conversation to have with your mother?” He dodged the question. “Or Tsunade?”

She stared at him. “My parents are dead. And have you met Tsunade-shishou?”

Kakashi kept his eyes on his book. “When?”

Sakura offered him a tired smile. “It doesn’t matter, sensei. I didn’t expect you to notice.”

The comment stung. He shut the book. The least he owed her was his full attention. “I have a soulmate. A soulmark.”

“Have you met them?” Sakura asked, wide-eyed.

“Probably,” Kakashi said. He had no plans to tell her. If she was still pining for Sasuke, better she didn’t know her own former sensei was more likely to be his soulmate.

“Do… people get different soulmates?” Sakura twirled her hair. “Like, if Ino’s soulmate was Shikamaru, but Shikamaru’s soulmate was someone else.”

“It happens,” Kakashi nodded, stealing a glance at her. “Is it… that you think that’s the case with you?” He hoped for her sake that the name on her skin didn’t look anything like his.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve met him. He would know before I would. Don’t you think if he had my name, he would treat me differently? Wouldn’t I know?”

He had never been good at this. Sakura no longer felt like his charge, his student. She never really had to begin with, but she was, in some ways, his responsibility. She suffered because he couldn’t sway Sasuke.

It couldn’t be Sasuke either. They were close to the same age, and Sasuke hadn’t known before he left the village.

“Sakura,” he sighed. “I don’t know for sure who my soulmate is. I imagine it’s not romantic. Something to do with their lives or mine. It’s just a name. Love whoever you want to.” He offered her another eye crinkled smile. “It’ll be just fine.”

Another promise. Maybe this one he would keep.

She nodded solemnly, and they walked in quiet for a little longer before she broke the silence. “Can you call me Sakura-chan?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “I thought you’d want me to drop it.”

She shook her head, smiling a little sadly. She was already too old for fifteen. “It’s a nice reminder.”

Earth shattered around him, dust rising to the surface. He stared up, eyes wide, and Sakura smiling down at him.

“Found you, sensei,” she beamed.

Stronger than he knew.

Now, she was drunker. Sixteen and between taxing missions, Sakura had done what most shinobi her age did to celebrate their birthday. Get smashed. He didn’t have a problem, but did it have to be at his bar?

“Ugh,” he took another long inhale of his sake.

“It’s the power of youth,” Gai grinned. “Isn’t it astounding? Marvelous?”

“Please don’t cry,” Kakashi requested, nursing his drink. It was too early in the evening for his drinking partner to break out in tears. He seriously needed a new one. Maybe Anko was available.

“Found you, sensei,” Sakura sung, grabbing his hand and twirling herself around. He bore it all patiently.

“Don’t you want to go back towards your friends?” Kakashi hinted.

“Aren’t we friends?” She crossed her arms.

Kakashi hesitated. She wasn’t wrong. His closest friends were his self-proclaimed rival and two kids who were barely sixteen. “Sure, Sakura,” he smiled. “We’re friends.”

That was enough to satisfy her, and she smiled brightly before disappearing back in the crowd. He took another drink. It was like they got younger, and he got older. He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

The worst part was really that he had to keep his mask on the whole time.

When she was seventeen, they were in the midst of war, and there was no time to get drunk. He snuck her a bottle of sake anyway, and they traded it between them, sitting on a crate and staring up at the muddy sky.

“I want a birthday present,” Sakura said.

He glanced her, but she wasn’t drunk. “Wasn’t the sake enough?”

“Sure,” her lips quirked up into a smile. It wasn’t tired or sad. Kakashi took heart from that. “But I want another. And you owe me.”

Kakashi gave her an indulgent smile. “What do you want?”

He assumed it would be his face, and he was prepared to show her. It was a funny joke, but he couldn’t keep it up forever. If he had to show any of them, Sakura was his preferred choice. He was sure she wouldn’t tell a soul and tease Naruto about it for a few years at least. Even more torture, really.

As usually with Sakura, he was wrong.

“I want to know your soulmate,” she said.

Kakashi looked at her. Really looked at her. Somehow, she knew. Somehow, she must know. Otherwise she wouldn’t look desperate.

“I don’t think you should,” Kakashi tried. It wouldn’t give her any peace. It wouldn’t heal her heart.

“That’s not a no.” She softened her voice. “You kept my secret. I’ll keep yours.”

He closed his eyes. He missed the memorial stone. He wanted to speak to Rin – he never wanted that before. He missed home. Sakura was what little he had of it – of home, of Rin.

“Uchiha,” he confessed, voice hoarse. Tired with carrying a years-old sin, as tired as Sakura’s heart must be of carrying her years-old love. “It’s Uchila.”

Her expression didn’t change. “Did they die?”

“No,” he said.

She looked down at her hands. “So it’s Sasuke. That’s what you meant, all those years ago.”

“Yes.”

When she didn’t look back at him, he grabbed her hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Sakura, I don’t care. I’ve never cared.”

She laughed. “You’re lying. I can see it all now. When you met us. All those years. It’s been haunting you.”

“I was never sure if it was Itachi or Sasuke,” he admitted. “I had hoped Itachi.” In the beginning, he hadn’t known which to hope for. By now, he did. He longed for his mark to wear away when he had heard of Itachi death. He had been tempted to cut it out of his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she tilted her head.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “I was right. I didn’t mentor him like I had hoped, but I think we both changed each other. Irrevocably. Maybe that’s all a soulmate is.”

Kakashi knew he could never love Sasuke in any other way than how he did now. The way he loved Team Seven. The way he loved a ghost. If Sasuke was meant to be his soulmate, than the gods were wrong. Fate had screwed up.

“Do you really believe that?” Her gaze searched his.

He wanted to protect her. The way he always did. He wanted to hide her from the truth and keep empty promises. But they were past that now. “I believe we’ll never really know,” he said. “I believe it doesn’t matter. You’re right. I cared, but I have you, Sakura. Naruto. Sai.” He rolled his eyes. “Gai.”

She kissed his cheek softly, warmth emanating through the fabric of his mask. “Thank you for the birthday present, Kakashi.” In an afterthought, she added, “sensei.”

He didn’t bother to correct her. It must have been another reminder.

Chapter Text

All her life had to do with love.

Tsunade would say that this was a preliminary conclusion. Vague. Without any supporting evidence. It couldn’t be tested.

Her shishou was right about a lot of things, especially when she was sober, but she would be wrong about this. Her entire life had been the experiment, and her hypothesis had proven true each time. She had even been born from it.

Her parents were genins, and they were soulmates. They took low-risk missions and prioritized their daughter over power. Mebuki was written behind her father’s ear. Kizashi was written on her mother’s upper back. They had met as children, and they had gotten their marks at the same time, five days after her mother’s thirteenth birthday.

Sakura had become a shinobi because of love. Childish, foolish love that she grew to resent, but it was love all the same. Of Sasuke, with his sharp gaze and the way his dark hair fell over his eyes. Of Ino, who was all confidence and deliberation.

Later, it would be Naruto’s love for her, one she would never return, one that led to his promise.

It didn’t end with Sasuke, but that was what she would always remember. He left her for power. That should have been her sign, blaring red and staring her right in the face. Her parents had chosen her and each other over power. They didn’t care about progressing through the ranks. They had never been interested in vengeance.

Sometimes, Sakura wished they had.

If they were stronger, they wouldn’t have died only months after Sasuke left her. After Kakashi-sensei left her. After Naruto left her. All her life had to do with love, and maybe the final conclusion was she just wasn’t worth loving.

It was only border patrol.

“Sakura,” her mentor squeezed her shoulder. “Go home.”

She hadn’t noticed Tsunade there. “I can’t,” she tried not to cry. She had to be strong. Stronger than they were. “I don’t have a home. They took it away.”

“I’ll make them un-take it away,” Tsunade said cheerfully.

Sakura managed to rip her eyes away from the memorial stone. Their names were side by side, as they had been in life. As they would be in death. “I know you can’t do that,” she said dully. “They were in a civilian neighborhood.”

Tsunade frowned. For a women who had never wanted power, she was used to getting things her way. “Here,” she said. “You know Shizune’s apartment? Two windows above hers. Break in, spend the week. Wash everything after you’re gone. You’ll find a new apartment in that time. There’s plenty.”

“Is Naruto’s gone?” She sniffed. There would be comfort in his mess and the way his room always smelled like ramen.

“Trust me,” she said. “It’s not an option.” She shuddered. “It’s an active crime scene by now.”

Sakura decided she didn’t want to know.

She almost went to Ino’s instead, but that would be too much like begging. They weren’t friends yet. They were only not rivals. She couldn’t come to her door and ask her to forgive everything. Sakura had chosen a traitor over her.

She swung in through the window, glancing around. It was small. A studio. The occupant was neat. The bed was made, sheets dark blue and patterned with kunai. A shinobi, she realized with a smile. The mystery was enough to distract her from the grief that was tearing a hole in her chest. The fridge was empty, but there were dog bowls sitting in a row beneath the cabinet.

Sakura found the bookshelf and laughed.

Rows and rows of orange.

“Kakashi-sensei.” She should have figured from the plant sitting on the window. She had nearly knocked it over when she arrived, but she always assumed that he had never kept his genin’s present alive. “You do care.”

Tsunade had instructed her to wash everything before she left. It wasn’t just manners; her sensei had the nose of a hound. Former sensei.

It wasn’t as good as Naruto’s bed, but orphans couldn’t afford to be picky. It occurred to her she finally belonged. Sasuke thought she didn’t know pain. He was right, wasn’t he? She had only known insecurity, the ache to belong, her sensei’s approval. Now she was an orphan too, like the rest of them.

She didn’t bother stripping off her uniform. She hugged his pillow to her chest and fell asleep. It was as close to home as she had anymore.

Ino’s favorite prescription slash home remedy slash cure to all ails was a blind date. “It’ll make you feel better,” the blonde urged, waving her hand over the textbook.

If Sakura had learned anything from her former sensei, it was how to ignore distractions when she was reading. Of course, her reading material was a little more substantive. “I don’t need to feel better,” she replied, not looking up from the passage on chakra pain receptors.

“You’re such a nerd,” Ino groaned.

She was, but she liked it. Sakura liked the book-learning aspect of her training – she had always been good at that. In everything else, she had to try harder than everyone else, be better than everyone else. She didn’t have a kyubi or clan abilities. All she had was her mind and her determination. If her teammates could chase power, she would too. When they met again, she wouldn’t be the girl needing saving.

“Ino, if I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s to stop worrying about love so much,” Sakura said, scribbling a note in the margins. What money her hospital work paid her, she spent the extra on buying textbooks herself. She liked being able to mark them all up.

“Wrong,” Ino slid into the chair opposite of her. “Coffee,” she added to the hovering waiter with the kind of flirtatious smile that sent him scurrying of, blushing a hot red. “What you should have learned is you just need better taste in guys.”

Sakura only hummed, noncommittal. “Are you guys trying for chunin this year?”

Ino nodded. “Yep. We can’t let Shikamaru leave us behind. That lazy ass.”

“So you need a third,” Sakura glanced up hopefully. She was sure she would suit them. She wasn’t as strategic as Shikamaru, but she was just as clever. “I could do it.”

Ino shrugged. “You don’t have to convince me. Choji doesn’t care, and Asuma isn’t going to say no.” She brightened. “You can come to Team Ten dinners!”

Sakura almost said no. She was Team Seven, and Team Seven got ramen, not barbecue, and they complained about it every week but Naruto always got it his way. But she didn’t know who she was being loyal to. Sakura smiled back. “Sure.”

“On one condition,” Ino smirked.

“What?” Sakura asked.

“Blind date.”

She groaned. “Who with?”

Ino shrugged. “You pick someone, and I’ll make sure they’re free for dinner.”

She sighed. “I’m just not interested, Ino.” She was sick of being heartsick. At night, she still dreamed of Sasuke’s eyes. At day, she longed for Naruto’s smile.

Ino reached over, grasping Sakura’s hands in her own. “Seriously, you have to move on. This isn’t good for you. They aren’t good for you.”

Sakura ripped her hands away. “You don’t know them.”

Ino shrugged. “I’m not saying they’re not decent people. Well, Sasuke isn’t. And Naruto’s an idiot, but he’s good at heart.”

“I never liked Naruto,” Sakura muttered. She regretted that sometimes.

“No but you’re half in love with all of them, aren’t you?” Ino raised an eyebrow. “I can tell. Move on. You’re better than them. They left you, Sakura.”

Sakura bit her lips. “Just one date.” She searched for a name. None of Team Ten, not if she wanted to train with them. Neji was too much like Sasuke, Lee too much like Naruto. “Kiba,” she decided.

Ino grinned. “It’s done.”

Sakura had dreamt about her soulmate mark before it happened.

In her dreams, her parents were still alive. She would wake up, rested, eyes bright, and she would find her mother downstairs, making breakfast. Sakura would down a class of orange juice. The location of the words would change, and she could never read what it said in her dreams, but her mother would exclaim. Sakura would laugh, bright and happy.

It wasn’t anything like that. The pain of it woke her up in the middle of the night, ink searing into skin. She gasped for breath, but she couldn’t move. Her limbs were too heavy, and all she could do was endure the pain. Character by character carving into her skin. Ino had said she had only noticed a dull string the next morning.

When it was over, and Sakura could move, she only went back to sleep. The night was heavy in the summer, and she wasn’t brave enough to see it on her own.

In the morning, she reported to work. She had wanted to show Ino first, let Into decide if she even wanted to know, but Tsunade knew the instant she walked into the room.

“So, it came,” Tsunade said.

Sakura stammered, “What?”

“Your soul mark, girl,” Tsunade said, impatient. “Well? Who is it?”

She flushed. “I haven’t checked yet.”

Tsunade had never told her the story of her soul mark, but she had learned it along with all the other children. Her mentor was from legends, after all. Tsunade had two. The other Legendary Sannin. Yet she fell in love with neither of them. Yet she loved Dan. Sakura never stopped admiring her shishou – Tsunade had even defied fate.

The Hokage’s gaze swept over her. Then sharpened. “That’s new,” she gestured at the dress.

“Not really,” Sakura said slowly. “I had meant to start wearing it eventually.”

Sakura wasn’t a child anymore. She kept her hair short, wore gloves, and carried weapons. Her only concession on this dress was its color – she had always liked red.

“High neck,” Tsunade commented.

Sakura flushed again.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, amused.

“No, I – “ She tugged down the collar, just enough so the characters were visible. She couldn’t read it at this angle, upside-down and awkward, but her mentor could. “Who is it?”

Tsunade studied her collarbone and sighed. “Oh, Sakura.”

“It’s not Sasuke, is it?” She asked, suddenly frightened. She had been so sure it couldn’t be. She had longed for it and feared it in equal measures.

“Not so bad,” Tsunade met her eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

She hesitated. It couldn’t be good, whatever it was. It was no enemy of the village, not if Tsunade thought it better than Sasuke. Then again, her mentor didn’t think much of Sasuke Uchiha. But this was her soulmate. If she wanted to be strong, then she had to start here. It would be weak not to know. To be too much of a coward to ever look at the words beneath her throat.

“I want to know, shishou,” Sakura stood up straight.

“Kakashi,” Tsunade sighed. “Now, it’s not a family name. It’s not Hatake. There’s always the chance it’s another Kakashi.”

Sakura wasn’t listening. Kakashi. Her sensei. Gray-haired, smiling eyes, always wearing a stupid mask, always reading those stupid books. “But – he’s so old,” she shook her head in disbelief. “He – “

“He’s younger than he looks,” Tsunade said. “Did you hear me? It doesn’t have to be him. These things, well, they’re fate. Gods. They work in strange ways. Most of us don’t understand it until it’s over.” She fixed her gaze on Sakura. “They leave us choices.”

“No,” Sakura murmured. She flattened her collar, so it hid the characters again. “If it’s Kakashi, I know it’s Kakashi-sensei.” She was certain of that much. She was also certain of what she said next. “But he doesn’t have my name.”

Sakura was almost relieved at the thought. Kakashi-sensei could be handsome, but he was too strange, too old. She only ever wanted his approval. Ruffling her hair. Winking at her when the boys started fighting. She was fourteen, and he was – well, she didn’t know, but much older.

Almost heartbroken, too. More proof she couldn’t be loved. Her soulmate was years older than her, a former teacher, and he would never love her. Not in any way, let alone like this.

“How do you know that, Sakura?” Tsunade asked patiently.

“Because I know him,” she said, resolute. “If he had my name, he would have never agreed to teach me.”

Tsunade nodded. “You’re smart. And you’re right. No, he doesn’t have your name.” She pulled out a bottle of sake from beneath the desk. “And I’ll tell you one more thing. This is good news.”

Sakura frowned. “How?”

None of it was good. It was taboo and wrong and terrifying.

“You’re free, Sakura,” she explained. “I can’t tell you how many kunoichi are trapped by the names on their skin. The kami have a reason for this. Someday, you might save his life. But you won’t ever be bound to him. Not him, not to any man.”

“Free,” Sakura repeated softly, transfixed.

“But you bear a heavy burden too,” Tsunade continued. “It’s regulation that all shinobi’s soul marks are categorized. Even Kakashi’s is. I’ll make an exception for you. He has too many enemies. Whatever soulmates mean – ” She paused. “I feel their pain. Mine. And I suppose I care for them, in my own way. Protect yourself from that. Tell only those you trust.”

Sakura nodded. “But do I tell Kakashi-sensei?”

Tsunade laughed. “That’s your choice, but if I were you, I’d wait on it. Don’t tell a man you call sensei that you bear his name.” Her gaze softened. “I always thought these marks came too young. Too fast.” She took a swig of her drink.

Sakura respectfully bowed and left the room, closing the door behind her. Her mentor would be consumed by memories today. The least she could do was give her privacy.

Sakura couldn’t let it go.

There had to be a reason. Everything had a reason. She was born a romantic, but she had grown into a rationalist. A scientist.

First, she gathered information. She went right to the source, did as much as confess, but he didn’t connect the dots. So much for prodigy. Kakashi-sensei might be clever, far more clever than she would ever be, but he didn’t understand humans.

He had his own theory. If his soulmate was only someone made to impact his life, the same way Tsunade’s soulmates were, couldn’t it be the same for her? Was she made to touch him, somehow? Save his life? Was there someone out there with her name?

Maybe it was meant to be unrequited. She would fall in love with him, and he would never love her back.

She tested this a few days before Naruto came back. “Kakashi-sensei,” she dropped in at the memorial stone. She had waited in silence until he had gotten up from where he was crouched in front of the stone.

But she was too nosy not to look.

Obito Uchiha.

“Thanks for waiting, Sakura-chan,” he flicked her hair, his little way of telling her that he knew she was there.

Sakura hadn’t bothered to try to hide her chakra. “Have coffee with me.”

Kakashi stopped where he stood. “Coffee?”

“What?” She demanded. “I’m not asking a lot. Or tea, I guess, if you don’t like coffee.” She wasn’t coming out of this with a ‘no’. If she was anything at all, she was tenacious.

“It’s only a little sudden,” he soothed, glancing at her nervously. “Coffee? You don’t want to… say, train?”

It was a tantalizing suggestion, and she wasn’t sure if Kakashi knew it. Perhaps he did. He was clever. She wanted to train with him, to earn his respect, but that wasn’t what she was here for today. No, she wanted to adore him. “No, sensei. I want conversation.”

“I’m very conversational during training.”

Sakura squinted at him. “Do you hate coffee or something? Seriously, tea is fine too.”

Kakashi slid his hands into his pockets. “No, Sakura. I like coffee. I like tea more, but I like coffee.”

“Then?”

He met her gaze. “You make it sound like a date. You know I’m a lot older than you, Sakura-chan.”

He had caught onto her. Sakura fought not to give herself away, but somehow her teachers could always see right through are. Curious, she asked, “How old are you?”

“Nearly thirty,” he said. “Nearly double your age.”

“Good thing I don’t want to date you.” It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t. It would be easier to like him, knowing he was younger than she thought. It didn’t matter what Kakashi said. Ino played with the hearts of men only a little younger than him. “I just want to understand.”

“Understand what?” Kakashi asked.

“Everything that happened,” Sakura said. “I can’t talk to Naruto. I can’t talk to Sasuke.”

Kakashi gave her a measured look and then smiled. “Sure, Sakura-chan,” he ruffled her hair. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

She batted his hand away. “It’s not a date.”

They decided on coffee for the day Naruto arrived, so it never happened. It didn’t really matter to Sakura though. Now she knew she could like him. He was strange, sometimes silly, and far cleverer than he appeared. Of course she could like him, but he was Team Seven. She already loved him, the way she loved all the pieces of their shared past. And hated them in turn.

It was stupid of her not to realize sooner.

At sixteen, she had sex with Naruto.

It wasn’t good sex, but it wasn’t bad sex either. It was their first time, so it was awkward. He didn’t know where to touch her, and she didn’t know where she wanted to be touched. Naruto kissed her too tenderly, like she was a goddess to be worshipped, and she was too harsh, too unreachable, a deity to her subject.

But they were one. For a second, she wasn’t alone. She was only strange sensation and Naruto’s laugh and old, idyllic days and growing up.

After, she lied back on the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. Naruto had the same sheets as Kakashi. Their sensei must have gifted them to him. She spent too much of her time healing broken bodies to feel much modesty, but Naruto gently draped a quilt over both of them.

“Was I okay?” Naruto broke the silence, glancing anxiously over to her.

“Yes,” she laughed. “Don’t worry.”

He was sweet and kissed every inch of her body. He knew she was insecure and complimented her sighs, the shape of her legs, the curve of her mouth. He didn’t love her, not like that, but he loved her enough. She was a kunoichi. Someday she would share her bed with a stranger.

“I saw your mark,” he confessed.

Sakura rolled over, gaze meeting his. “I thought you had.” He had kissed the curves of her breasts, and he wasn’t distracted enough to miss the bold ink just above them. “I didn’t see yours.”

He grinned sheepishly, drawing the sheet down enough for her to glimpse his stomach. Beneath the seal, only one character was visible. “I guess I’ll never know.”

“Oh, Naruto,” she placed a hand on her chest. “I’m sorry.”

If anyone deserved love, it was him.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sakura-chan!” He smiled. “It’s still there, and someday it’s gonna work out.” She envied his optimism. “But what about you? Kakashi? Our Kaka-sensei?”

“I have a feeling it couldn’t be anyone else,” Sakura sighed. “At least my name’s common.” She wrinkled her nose. “No one else would name their kid Kakashi.”

“Does he know?”

“No,” she sighed. “And you can’t tell him. The fewer people who know, the better.”

He tried to be quiet, but she could tell he was bursting with questions. She rest her head against his shoulder, tucking herself beneath his arm. She wanted to be held. “You can ask, Naruto.”

“Do you love him?” Naruto asked urgently. “Is it like Sasuke?”

“Nothing will be like Sasuke,” she said. No one else could ever stay in her like he did. He lived in her blood, in her nightmares, and in her sweetest dreams. She fought for him, and she had fought against him. “But… I guess I could, maybe, if he had never been my teacher. If he was younger or I was older. But that’s not meant to be.”

She closed her eyes. “But that’s okay. It’s like you, Naruto. We’re free from being bound to it.”

“Huh,” Naruto said. He started saying something else, but by then, Sakura was already asleep.

Their campfire was a brilliant red-gold, as bright as the kyubi. Sakura could almost see the fox’s tails flickering above the logs, but she wasn’t here to watch the fire. She was watching the man. Quietly, she sidled over to sit next to him. “I’m sorry, Kakashi,” she set her hand on his knee, squeezing once. She had meant to let go, but he placed his hand over hers.

“What for?” He asked, bitter. “That Obito could be Tobi? That Obito died to save me? Again?”

“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Sakura said.

He started contemplatively at the fire. “My eyes are finally my own.” His mask no longer was tilted to obscure his Sharingan eye. He glanced back at her with a half-smile. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Ask what?” She frowned. She was focused on the warmth of his hand, rough and spanning hers. Sakura had never really noticed his hands before. She supposed no one could, not with how fast he could sign.

“Obito Uchiha,” he said.

“Oh,” Sakura realized. She had wondered, but it felt unimportant with the world ending. With fighting kami’s and fate itself. With the world falling asleep and Sakura drowning in her own greatest desire. “Is it then?”

“No,” Kakashi sighed. “It’s still Sasuke.”

They both looked at the tent where two men lied side by side, asleep, exhausted, missing an arm.

“He’s back,” Sakura said. “Maybe that’s what we’re meant to do. Bring him back home. For Naruto. For us.”

“We?” Kakashi asked.

“I told you, sensei,” she smiled wryly. “My soulmate doesn’t have my name.”

He studied her. “It’s not Sasuke, is it?”

She laughed. “No, you can have Sasuke.”

“Funny,” he rolled his eyes. It was strange to be able to see it. She didn’t realize she was staring until he coughed pointedly.

“Sorry,” she blushed. “It’s just new.”

“Wait till you see my whole face,” he teased.

“Are you going to show me?” Sakura asked, interested. Now that Sasuke was back, she was far more committed to winning this bet. Her winnings would save her an entire month’s rent.

“Do you want me to show you?” He asked.

Sakura considered him, mask and all. By now, she almost forgot there was something beneath it. She could make out the shape of his nose and jaw, could guess at what his face would look like. All she really missed was his smile. “Not yet,” she decided. “But I want you to show me first.”

“Alright,” he took her hand, shaking it once. “Deal.”

She only threw her head back, laughing. “Now, sleep,” she instructed. “I can take watch.” Sakura stared him down until he conceded, disappearing back into his tent. She rest her arms on her knees and watched the flickering of the fire. Maybe she missed more than she knew.

Sasuke took her to coffee. Funnily enough, it was the same shop she planned to take Kakashi all those years ago. She was only eighteen, but she felt older than her years. She would never be a legend, not like her teammates, but she had never wanted to be. She wasn’t driven by power – she had only wanted to match them. Now, she was tired of it.

“Do you still love me?” Sasuke asked, playing with his coffee.

She took a sip of her tea. “Always, Sasuke. In some ways.”

He hummed his acknowledgement but didn’t say anything else. It didn’t bother Sakura like it once would have. Sasuke never had much to say. He showed how he felt in other ways. In asking Ino about her favorite flowers. In coming to her birthday even though he hated crowds and bars.

Sakura had demanded a present from him – Sasuke had to get drunk. He did, and it was brilliant. All of Team Seven agreed she couldn’t have gotten better.

“What are you planning to do next?” He asked.

Years ago, Sasuke would have never asked, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have cared. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I could help Shizune with hospital administration, maybe takeover someday, but that’s so much administration.”

“It would be a waste of your talents,” Sasuke agreed.

Sakura smiled. “Perhaps. I was also considering concentrating my efforts in surgery. Become the best. Kakashi asked me if I wanted a position helping him. I do know politics.” She had spent years of her life as the former Hokage’s apprentice.

“Don’t,” Sasuke advised. “They’ll realize you’ll make a better Hokage than Naruto.”

Sakura laughed. Maybe it was all meant to be, really. Sasuke leaving the village had let him fulfill his desire of vengeance and then learn Itachi’s truth. He was a traitor, a murderer, but he had learned. Now he wanted redemption, and from the way his gaze followed her when he thought she wasn’t looking, her.

It was nice to be wanted.

“What about you?” Sakura asked, deciding not to disclose her third option.

“I don’t know yet either,” Sasuke admitted. “I have to talk to Kakashi. You know what it is I want.”

Sakura did. He was good at heart, no matter what. Now he only wanted to make things right.

“You’ll find your way,” she encouraged, taking another sip from her tea. “Can I try your coffee?”

Sasuke only silently slid his coffee across the table and watched attentively as she took a sip. Sakura wrinkled her nose, and he let out a soft laugh.

Sasuke couldn’t be her soulmate. Sakura didn’t know if he even had one but – he cared. It was the kind of ending she had stopped dreaming about. “I was wondering something,” Sasuke began.

Sakura arched her brows. It wasn’t like him to be indirect. “Oh?”

“I know it’s still early,” he said. “But we’re – well, you know.” He fidgeted with his collar. “I was curious if you’d want to marry me someday.”

It wasn’t a proposal, but it was just like Sasuke. He had lost his entire family, in blood, in treason. He could never really trust his village. He didn’t have much room in his heart, but he could give her this.

“Yes,” she said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “That would be nice. Someday.”

Sakura was stronger, better, but some things didn’t change. She had always wanted to be a wife. Had always wanted children. But not yet. There were other things she wanted to accomplish first.

“I love you,” she added.

Sasuke squeezed her hand and stole his coffee back.

It was strange how the office didn’t spell like sake anymore. The desk was neater, and the occupant behind it actually wore traditional Hokage garb. He liked to claim it was more convenient than a mask.

“Hokage-sama,” she greeted with a smile.

“Please don’t,” he groaned.

Sakura took mercy, laughing as she took a seat in front of him. He would be good at this job, even if he didn’t think so. The strongest ninja of the village should be Hokage. In sheer power, that would always be Naruto, but Kakashi had the wisdom. Even if he didn’t always act like it.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to take my offer,” he said, hopeful.

Sakura grinned. “I’ve had enough of that.” She slid a stack of papers across the desk. “I’m here with more paperwork.”

“Thanks, Sakura-chan,” he said dryly, glancing down at the forms. He paused. “ANBU?”

Sakura nodded. “Yes. Tsunade had suggested it before to further my career, but I’ve never had the time.” She had been too busy saving the world.

Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure, Sakura-chan? You’re talented enough for it, and we have a shortage of medic-nin in the ranks.”

That was exactly what Sakura had been counting on. “I can do it.”

“It could crush you,” he warned. “It’s important work, but it won’t give you fulfillment. It won’t be like working at the hospital or being on the field as a standard medic-nin. It’ll be dirty work, and there’s no room to disobey orders.”

“I’m not Naruto, Kakashi,” Sakura said. “I’d be good at this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he started to scan over her paperwork. “But you’ve done enough already. What more do you want to give in the service of your village?”

Said Kakashi, who had given his entire life to it. He was loyal without fault, and now he wore those white and red robes, albeit reluctantly. He had never stopped giving. “I’m still young,” Sakura argued. “I want to do more. Learn more.”

“Did you tell – ” He paused on a page.

Sakura had been dreading this. Being ANBU was full-closure. It was naked loyalty. The paperwork itself was the first test, but she could tell Kakashi hadn’t been expecting to find anything he didn’t already know. He had taught her, had been her friend, had fought alongside her. There were few secrets between them.

“You have to redact it,” Sakura said. “Tsunade-shishou said it’s dangerous.”

He didn’t look up. “She was right.” He took a marker and crossed out his own name. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sakura mustered a tremulous smile. “Why do you think?”

She owed it to him to keep her eyes level on him, but Kakashi only steadily turned the page. “I wouldn’t know, Sakura. You would have plenty of reasons. I am too dangerous. You were once my student. I’m too old, and you’re too young.”

“None of that,” she said, even though they were all true. All reasons she had listed to herself. “But mostly, I was a coward. And mostly, I was tired of men not loving me back.”

At last, he looked up. “I’m sorry, Sakura.”

Her eyes widened. “You? I’m sorry. I should have – we’re friends. I should have said.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I understand your reasons. I’m sorry that I abandoned you too. That I don’t have your name.”

She smiled gently. “I think you’ve suffered enough from your own mark. I won’t add to it.” She had never blamed him. Herself, the gods, but never him.

“I can’t – ”

Sakura interrupted him. “You don’t have to reject me. I know.”

Even if Kakashi did have her name, it would have never happened. He would have transferred her from his team. He would avoid her gaze and distant himself from her. Maybe he didn’t have her name, so she could have his friendship. Maybe there were reasons.

“I’m not interested, anyway,” she winked. “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

“I know,” he managed a weary smile of his own. “Did anything I ever say… Did it help?”

Sakura considered it. Over the years, she had searched out his advice. After all, Kakashi was the expert on himself. He had never realized, not until now. “Yes. It did. I saved your life enough. That’s what Tsunade-shishou thought.”

Kakashi turned the papers over. “Your ANBU application is approved, Sakura. You start training immediately. Report to me tomorrow morning at six.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” she nodded, rising to her feet. She had broken something fragile between them, but she couldn’t regret her decisions.

He wouldn’t call her Sakura-chan again.

And she couldn’t call him Kakashi-sensei.

Chapter Text

His brother was a pacifist, but his life had never been one of peace. When Sasuke found his body cold, cold and dead in his own hands, he stripped away the bandages over his brother’s arm. Sasuke knew what he would find, but he had to know.

When Itachi’s soul mark manifested, his father was proud. His mother, ecstatic. Uchiha. Their clan had never abided by the marks, but this was different. The heir was destined to find love within the clan. It was a sign from the gods.

The bandages unraveled, and the mark was still black. Still stark. It hadn’t faded because Sasuke was still alive.

The only one still alive.

He stared at the body for a while. Sasuke had long suspected, but he never knew. There could be another answer. There could be another Uchiha, but Sasuke knew better. His brother’s duty in this world had been to protect him and his village. He tapped Itachi’s forehead once, like Itachi had always done to him.

It was only sentiment. He didn’t know then why his brother had died. The bloody disease in his lungs.

When he stood up, his eyes burned red.

The first time he met Sakura, he was only a child. He was too naïve for arrogance, too young for stupidity. He said something off-hand, and she laughed, bright and sweet, and his chest puffed out in pride. He didn’t talk to her much because she was a civilian girl, but in the days to come, he would remember that laugh.

He would also remember lying her gently across the bench. He had brushed her hair aside because it would tangle. Sakura always complained about how easily her hair tangled.

Now he was marrying that girl. That bright laugh. That pure adoration.

Sakura was different from when they were children, but they all were now. She liked sitting in the quiet and drinking tea. She liked trashy novels as much as Kakashi. She would spend her afternoons training with Sai. She fell asleep to her heavy medical textbooks and took joy in every life she saved. She didn’t cry when she lost them, but he could see that burden on her shoulders.

If Sasuke could love, he would love her.

He didn’t put much stock in soulmates. His brother’s soulmate had been his killer. Some would say Sasuke’s soulmate was his brother. No one could know whose Naruto’s was.

And Sakura’s was her teacher (as he would soon learn).

At first, he reasoned it was modesty. She always wore high-necked blouses, but she wasn’t shy about her legs. Then he decided it was disgust. Sasuke didn’t blame her. Everyone liked the idea of them. Sakura, his savior, the light in his darkness. Sasuke wondered if they were thinking about Sakura at all. Sakura, who deserved far better.

If, once again, they only saw him.

But she kissed him back sweetly. She recounted her day gaily and burned dinner regularly.

He kept his own council, but he didn’t want to inflict himself on Sakura if she was only trying to save him. If she was only a healer to him.

(Even if she was the few things that sated the monster.)

He asked Naruto.

“So… ” The blond grinned. “No sex?”

Sasuke groaned. “That’s not the point.” He had a vague idea that something had happened between them, but Sasuke didn’t want to confirm his suspicions. There were somethings he was better off not knowing.

“You suuure, teme?” Naruto taunted. “You’re still a – ”

“Focus, dobe,” he snapped. “You know her better than anyone.”

Naruto sobered. “Yeah,” he glanced down at his ramen. “Not so sure about that. Sakura – she’s pretty mysterious. I asked Kakashi, and he said women just get more mysterious with age.” He made a face. “I think he’s right.”

Sasuke said, “You know her better than me.”

Naruto was quiet for a moment (somehow) before he nodded. “I don’t know. But yeah. It’s not that she thinks you’re gross. She has a soul mark and – ” He sighed. “She acts like she’s cool about it. Like it’s freeing, but I think she hates it. I think it makes her ashamed.”

Sasuke blinked. “But soul marks are meaningless.”

It made sense. Sasuke had never thought Sakura carried his name, but she had always been a romantic. War and pain hadn’t changed that (and he was glad for it). That was a secret she wasn’t willing to share yet. Sasuke could wait. Life had taught him patience.

“What?” Naruto sputtered. “You’re so cold-hearted. They aren’t meaningless! It’s like… huge. It’s a big deal.”

“Fine,” Sasuke wasn’t going to argue this. “They have meaning, but they don’t have to be romantic.”

“I guess,” Naruto squinted at him. “Whose yours?”

Sasuke smirked. “You.”

It was pretty satisfying to watch Naruto scream and shout. He didn’t even notice when Sasuke left. Amused and now content, he stopped at the grocery store to buy tomatos for himself and dango for Sakura.

Every Friday, he endured Ino for ten minutes and bought Sakura roses. He considered something more personal or asking Ino for her opinion but decided against it. For one, Sakura had always liked the color red. For another, he didn’t have that patience.

Today, Sai was working the register.

Sasuke almost turned around and left. Instead, he steeled himself and walked up to the register. “Bouquet of roses.”

Sai smiled. “Ugly told me it was polite to say ‘please’.”

Sasuke couldn’t believe this was what they replaced him with. Gritting his teeth, he grunted out an annoyed ‘please’.

Sai maintained his smile, clicking at the register. “I read in a book giving nicknames aids in creating friendships and team bonds. As Team Seven was fractured, I decided to test it out on Ugly and Dickless. Since then, I have learned that Sakura is conventionally attractive, although I find my nickname for Naruto remains accurate. Ugly assures me this is a sign of affection, Sasuke.”

He had never been good with people, but even he could read between the lines. Sai had nicknames for his friends, but Sasuke wasn’t worth the insult. Frankly, he wasn’t bothered. He didn’t want Sai’s friendship, and he didn’t need to be called ‘traitor’ every time he walked into the Yamanaka shop. There was no need for additional reminders.

Sasuke didn’t reply.

Sai continued conversationally. “I told her a romantic or sexual relationship with you was an idea born of poor judgement and sentiment, but she wouldn’t listen.”

The monster rose in him, drooling, jaw wide. Hungry. Sasuke beat it down.

“Are the roses ready yet?” Sasuke asked, impatient.

“No,” said Sai. “Ino makes them special.”

He had to wait, but he didn’t have to wait right by the register. Sasuke slapped down the appropriate amount of ryo to buy the flowers before stepping away to look over some of the flower displays. It was considered below him to learn the meanings of flowers, but Itachi had taught him in confidence.

“Shinobi are arrogant,” Itachi had said. “If there is knowledge to be gained, you are never above it.”

At that age, Sasuke didn’t see the point, but he was always eager to be taught by his older brother. No matter the lesson.

The tips of his fingers brushed over a nearby flower. Aster. Patience. It would be more fitting than roses. He didn’t know if he was capable of love, but Sakura was all patience. But Sakura deserved roses. He withdrew his hand and strode over to the drawings hung on the wall instead.

They were done in ink but often there was a splash of color. His eyes were drawn to the bright orange in the center. Naruto, meditating, painted in entirely in orange-gold. Either the kyubi or Naruto’s poor taste in fashion. It was strange that Sai chose to depict him so peacefully, eyes shut, lines of his face subdued.

It was easy to find Sakura. She shared the canvas with Kakashi, both in the midst of fighting. Sakura’s hair was a bright pink, and Kakashi’s hair was gray. It was an accurate rendering of her.

“Here,” Ino handed him the bouquet.

“Thanks,” he said dryly, glancing back at where Sai was still smiling at him. Then back at the drawing. It wasn’t only anatomically precise, but it was Sakura, every line energetic, her eyes the focus.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sai,” Ino laughed.

Sasuke pretended he didn’t care, but he couldn’t help but follow her gaze. To the other occupant on the canvas.

Her chakra control was impeccable.

Sasuke had long known this. On his first mission, glancing back and finding that she was ahead of both Naruto and himself, already on a high branch. Smiling and swinging her legs. The knowledge was razed into his skin, in scars, the first time he had fought her as an enemy. Her fist could crush mountains. There was no more of the pretty, slender girl who prioritized her straightener over an extra day’s ration.

Sometimes he missed her, the innocent civilian. Most of the time, he was proud.

He had never seen her chakra control like this. She was meditating, balanced on the water. Sasuke knew he couldn’t do that.

A little mischievous, he stepped quietly onto the water and then ducked forward quickly to press a kiss to her cheek. Sakura squealed and fell into the water.

“Sasuke,” she rose back up, sputtering, green eyes bright with fury.

He laughed softly, darting back to land. Water wasn’t his element, and he knew how to pick his fights. “I brought you lunch,” he said.

“Peace offering?” She grinned, stepping out. She shook her hair in his direction, and while Sasuke grimaced, he made no comment, taking her vengeance dutifully.

He shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s good.”

“You know how I cook,” Sakura pointed out, sitting cross-leg in the grass. Sasuke joined her. It was a hot, summer day in Konoha, and he suspected her little swim did her more good than harm.

“This is good,” Sakura smiled. “When did you learn to cook like this?”

“My mother taught me.” It was an easy answer to give her. Most of what he learned, he learned as a monster. Cursed. Tainted. Sharingan. This was his mother’s memory.

She handed him one. “Is yours as good?”

Sasuke took a bite. Taste was memory. Nostalgia. His mother’s kitchen. He smiled, bittersweet. “Not at all.” He glanced back at her, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind. “You’re not going to take that off?”

“I’m not that hot,” she waved off.

It couldn’t be that easy. Taking another bite, another thought occurred to him. Naruto would blabber at him with random tidbits of his day all for a single comment. A tch. He would give his entire heart, so Sasuke would give him a fragment.

“I have a soulmate,” he said. It wasn’t selfless, the way Naruto was, but he didn’t know how to be selfless anyway. He gave her the hollow scrapings in his chest, and she treasured it. His intentions were never pure; he wasn’t pure. He gave it to her because it made her happy, and if she was happy, she would stay.

And then he would remember how he didn’t deserve her anyway.

Sakura’s gaze was even. “I know it’s not me. It’s okay.”

It must have hurt her, this soulmate of hers. He could tell. “It’s Naruto,” he confessed, watching her carefully for a reaction.

Her eyes widened, and she uttered a soft sound. Not of surprise but of pieces falling into place. “I can see that,” she murmured and then reddened a little, meeting his eyes. “So, does that make you a little – ”

“A little what?” Sasuke asked.

“I swear you make this more difficult for me on purpose,” she rolled her eyes (although he didn’t; he just never understood superficial social cues). “You know. Into guys.”

“Oh,” Sasuke scratched his neck. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a lot of time for that.”

“Come on,” she wheedled.

“You’re taking this very well,” he sighed. He didn’t expect anything else. Sakura hadn’t imagined himself to be his soulmate since she was a child. “The important people in my life has always been you and Naruto. The idiot. I… suppose, if things were different, it could have equally been him.”

He wasn’t afraid of hurting her feelings. They were Team Seven.

“But not in this world,” he added hastily.

“Hinata wouldn’t give him up so easily,” Sakura giggled. “Or me, you.”

“What about you?” Sasuke asked. “Fair is fair. Ino?”

“Ino?” Sakura asked, puzzled.

“Are you attracted to her?” Ino and Sakura did have a very close relationship, from what he could tell.

“Wow,” she ran a hand through her damp, pink strands. “It’s a little like you, I guess? I don’t care. I mean – we did kiss a few times, but it was always friendship for us. We have too much history.”

“We have more.”

“Emotional history,” Sakura explained. “You and I… We became people apart from each other. Ino was always here for me. She knows me too well. That’s why you don’t date your best friend.”

“And I wasn’t,” he observed.

She squeezed his shoulder. Quiet forgiveness.

“I have a soulmate too,” she drew back his hand.

Sasuke only waited. He had nudged her, but Sakura would only tell him if she was ready. She could crush mountains, but she was as still as them too. He could weather her, wind and fire against stone, but he could never move her.

She placed her hand on her collarbone, just above her heart. “It’s Kakashi.”

Understanding flooded him. He didn’t know Sakura now, but he knew her at twelve. He almost knew her at thirteen, newly heartbroken, finding a new mentor, still the girl he knew her as. A romantic. She would wake up with her former sensei’s name on her skin, a man fourteen years older than her.

“Sakura,” he said, but he didn’t know what else to say.

It would have broken her heart again.

She read his expression and shook her head. “It wasn’t so bad, really. I knew right away that it couldn’t happen. There was no false, stupid hope.”

“Does he know?”

“Everyone asks me that,” she said. “Not until very recently. I don’t know if we’ll ever be the same. If it was the right idea to tell him at all.”

Sasuke didn’t ask if it was requited. It couldn’t be. He remembered as she would have remembered, the day he met them. His gaze paused on Sasuke. On Naruto. Sakura was invisible to him. She had been invisible to all of them.

It was strange, that something on her skin could be more tragic than something on his.

A week after he proposed, Hatake Kakashi summoned him to his office.

Sasuke didn’t bow. It wasn’t born out of pride, not entirely, but the knowledge that it would be an empty gesture. It would insult both of them. Naruto wouldn’t bow out of carelessness. Sasuke didn’t bow because he knew better.

Sakura would.

“Hokage-sama,” he said.

“You’re getting married now,” Kakashi observed. “D-ranked missions don’t cut it anymore.”

Sasuke had been making his measly paycheck through chasing cats and painting fences. It required interaction with civilians who feared him. He hated it, but that must have been the point. But with the compound and his money seized, it was the only way he could afford his apartment.

It was more than he expected. A traitor. A criminal. It was Naruto’s love and his eyes that kept him from prison and saved his life. But he resented it anyway. Walking past the compound, watching the ghosts, and knowing it couldn’t be his.

“What are my orders?” He asked.

“Kakashi is fine,” he drummed his fingers against the desk. “Legally, after you’re married, the possession of the Uchiha compound will go to Sakura.”

He stopped breathing. “What?”

“It’s the law,” Kakashi said. “While it cannot belong to anyone who has betrayed the village – and make no mistake, Sasuke, it will never be yours – it must legally go to the next-of-kin who bears the name. But there have been none others.”

“Until Sakura,” he said.

“Yes,” he nodded. “If you two have children, then upon turning eighteen or becoming a genin, it will go to the child. Blood has stronger claim than marriage.”

His home back. Sasuke could care less about complicated legalities.

“I would ask you and Sakura to consider donating a portion of it,” Kakashi added. “Of course, it’s her decision, but I know she won’t do it without you agreeing.” He sighed, leaning back into his chair. Kakashi wore no uniform – only his jonin vest. If it wasn’t for the exhaustion sunk beneath his eyes, Sasuke wouldn’t know he was Hokage. “But it’s been long enough for ghosts to wander.”

“That would be fine,” Sasuke said. Not the burial ground or the shrine. Not the main house. Not all of the training grounds. But the rest of it – it was too quiet for only two people.

“As for what to do with you… “ The corner of Kakashi’s mouth tugged up beneath the mask, but there was no eye crinkle. “The Council urges me to fully reinstate you. I was thinking something else. What do you think, Sasuke?”

“You know what I think,” Sasuke said flatly. “I want to redeem myself.”

“Redeeming yourself is marrying Sakura and having three cute little babies,” Kakashi said. “That’s why you’ve been pardoned.”

Sasuke wasn’t unaware that he was a brooding mare. If Sakura and Sasuke didn’t have children, there would be consequences. “You’re talking about Sakura like that?”

“Sakura knows the decision she made.”

Sasuke arched his brows. “Between you and me?”

Kakashi didn’t blink. “No, Sasuke. That was never a choice. I never left her, and I never will.” He straightened. “You left her once, and I have chosen to forgive you because you were twelve and stupid and misguided. Leave her again, and there will be no such forgiveness.”

“You don’t want her?” Something ugly rose in him, hot jealousy, goading Kakashi. “She’s beautiful. She’s your soulmate.”

“She’s a child to me,” Kakashi said.

He pictured Sakura, in bed, flushed and laughing. Sasuke’s lips descending on hers. Down her throat, but then his name, his name, was always there. He could never touch it.

Sasuke laughed. “She might buy that, but I won’t. You can’t possibly see her as a child. She’s fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward. “What is it for you? Her legs? Her ass? Her eyes? You must have a thing for eyes, Sharingan Kakashi – ”

In a flash of motion, Sasuke was pinned to the wall, panting, Kakashi’s eyes dark and heavy. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Sasuke’s eyes were already red, already spinning, already memorizing. “You love her,” he said.

Kakashi stepped back. “No, Sasuke,” the anger was gone. “I love her, in the way I can. As I do Naruto. As I do you.”

“I can tell the truth,” Sasuke said, eyes spinning.

“Then learn to believe it.”

Sasuke did.

Sarada was the most precious thing in his life.

Sasuke couldn’t hold her without feeling like he would break her. Her hands were tiny, eyes soft and wide. She would grab his finger and giggle. Her coloring was his, fine porcelain skin and dark hair and eyes. Everything else was Sakura.

“I can’t believe we made this,” Sasuke said again.

“How many more times of waking up at midnight will it take?” Sakura teased, kissing his cheek and then the baby’s forehead. “What was the meeting with Kakashi about?”

He handed her Sarada carefully. “He gave me options.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed. “Like what?”

“I can continue as I am,” Sasuke said. “D-ranked missions. Unable to do anything to support the two of you.”

Sakura touched his jaw gently. “We’re not hurting for money here.”

They weren’t. Sakura now had control of the Uchiha money, but they didn’t even need to touch it. They had enough between her time at ANBU and her current work at the hospital.

“I know, but I need to be doing something.” He had spent his life searching for power. For vengeance. He didn’t know how to be still. He was born of fire, and he would die of it. “I care for you and Sarada, but I can’t only – ”

She interrupted him. “I know. I couldn’t either.”

“There’s a threat, one only I can counter,” he said. “I’m the only one left with a Sharingan. Unless Sarada – ” He glanced down at his child, dozing off in her mother’s arms. He half-hoped that Sarada’s eyes would never burn red. “In other dimensions.”

“Okay,” Sakura nodded. “What else?”

His expression soured. “My last option is being a jonin-sensei.”

Sakura didn’t laugh, but he could tell she wanted to. “You’re not a jonin.”

“Kakashi said he could make an exception.”

Sakura nodded. “I support you, whatever decision you make.” She looked down at sleeping Sarada and then at him. “I trust you.”

It meant more to him than love could. Kakashi was right, all those years ago. He was too empty to ever understand love. He understood he cared for Sakura, for Sarada. That he would die for them. But he had betrayed her, and she trusted him. That was everything.

They saw him off at the gate. Sasuke kissed Sakura on the cheek and poked Sarada’s forehead.

At first, he came back often. Every few months for weeks at a time. It was clear that this was working for them. Sasuke needed time to himself, to find his own answers, to lie in bed alone and not next to something as pure as Sakura. And his wife liked the freedom too. It was what she had always seen her soulmark to be – a sign of freedom.

Sarada was the difficult part. He would come back, and she was different. Bigger. Crawling around the house. Trying to see Kakashi’s face.

If he knew how to love, he loved her.

Itachi’s name had been added to the Memorial Stone. He owed Kakashi everything he had, but this would be the one thing he could never repay. He paid homage every time he returned to Konoha. Itachi had loved this village, had died for this village. The least he could do was carry his brother’s memory.

And he asked the same thing.

“Make the monsters go away,” he whispered. “Please, Itachi. Like you used to.”

But the monsters stayed with him. In him. Part of him.

Sarada was four when Sasuke realized Sakura was happier without him. He had returned to the village a few days earlier, and he found Sakura shopping for kunai’s with Ino. Her smile was brighter than any directed at him, and this was only her friend.

It was brighter still with Naruto. With Kakashi.

She saw him, and she hugged him, kissed him. Enthusiastically detailed every minute of Sarada while he was gone, but she said little of herself.

“I should ask her for a divorce,” said Sasuke, staring into his sake. “That would be the right thing to do.”

Naruto choked on his drink. “What the fuck? Listen, teme, clearly you’ve never understood the right thing to do. You have a bad record. Cuz divorcing Sakura isn’t it! She loves you!”

He didn’t know why he was talking to Naruto about this. Ino was a better choice – she had always understood that Sasuke hadn’t deserved her. He had been tame for a while, but he remembered the forest now. Realized he could never stay still.

That a part of him still hated Konoha.

They could blame Danzou. The Council. But it was the village that had taken away his family. Had ripped away his childhood. Had left him a bleeding wound, a sullen orphan boy. He had been fooling himself. Everyday was darker and darker, and the only bright fucking thing in it was Sarada.

And how long until he ruined her too? Left her on a bench?

“I know,” he said. “And doesn’t she deserve someone who can love her back?”

“It’s not about deserving!” Naruto said. “Believe it! I couldn’t deserve Hinata in a million years. She’s the best! But I love her, and she loves me. We’re partners. Teammates. Like Team Seven, ya know?”

“When will you get it?” Sasuke asked, exasperated. “I’m dangerous.”

Naruto snorted. “Not as dangerous as Sakura-chan.”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

He would never make Naruto understand.

“Fine,” Sasuke said. “But ask yourself this: are you thinking of me or her? Have we ever been thinking about her?”

Chapter Text

It was how she counted time, as a mother. How old Sarada was. Months, at first, and then by years.

At a few months old, she had quit ANBU, and Sasuke left for the first time. At six months, Sasuke came back and stayed for three more months. When she was a year old, she was sick, fevered, and Sasuke came rushing back home. Neither slept until the fever broke.

When Sarada was two, she had asked Kakashi why he had sent Sasuke after the goddess. “She won’t be a danger for centuries, at least.”

“Thousands of years, I expect,” Kakashi said.

“Then why?” It was good for them. She couldn’t deny that – Sasuke could find his redemption, they could raise their child, and she wasn’t as surrounded by the whispering.

“Because if he’s chasing ghosts, maybe his ghosts will stop chasing him.”

She had almost asked him if it had worked for him. If his years in ANBU, of one mission after another, had done anything to quiet the voices in his head. Sakura didn’t, but she thought it, and maybe they both knew that.

When Sarada was five, Sasuke asked her for a divorce.

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head, and the world crumbled to her feet.“I don’t. I – I love you. I love Sarada. Haven’t I been a good wife? A good mother?”

Sasuke sat in the armchair across from her, head bowed. Sarada was at the Academy. She remembered arguing with him if she should be a shinobi. Sasuke was set against it, but Sakura knew her daughter, knew she would never find happiness anywhere else. They agreed that no matter how strong she was, she wouldn’t be a prodigy. She would not be Kakashi. Itachi.

She never thought that the next time they sat like this, he would want to split with her. Break her heart. Leave her again.

“The very best,” Sasuke said. “It’s not – it’s not you.”

“Oh, yes,” she laughed dryly. Of course, it wasn’t. Even her divorce wasn’t about her. It was always going to be about Sasuke. “The it’s me, not you? Is that how you’re going to do it, Sasuke?”

“It’s a little you,” he dug his hands into his hair. “But that’s because you won’t do it yourself. You can’t do this forever, but you’re strong, and you’d wait another ten years before you realize you can’t love a ghost.”

“I can love whoever I want to,” she snapped. “It’s my decision, Sasuke.” It was the gift that the gods had given her. She could choose who she loved, and if she wanted to love a man barely there, she could. He didn’t understand – she didn’t know how to do it differently. She had never loved anyone like she had Sasuke.

“But it’s also me,” he whispered. “I’m… I’m sick, Sakura.”

“Then let me heal you.”

He sighed. “In the head. I hear voices. I’m afraid of the dark. I hear Itachi talking to me. I rarely find peace.”

“That’s why therapy exists. Not divorce.”

“I’m not good for you, Sakura.”

“Why do you get to decide that?” She asked, voice breaking. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t that girl of twelve with too-long hair, and he wasn’t the boy with sullen eyes. “Why can’t I decide for myself?”

“Because you love me, and I don’t have it in me to love you.”

“I don’t need your love,” she said. “What you give me, give Sarada, is enough.” She grasped onto that thread. “Sarada needs her father.”

“Make no mistake,” he said. “I’m not leaving you. Or Sarada. I’m never leaving you again.” They both thought of the first time he left her.  The bench. The thank you. “I just want… better for you. Better for all of us.”

“You’re divorcing me,” she shook with anger, frustration. Desperation. “How is that not leaving me?”

“You’re not happy, Sakura.” His voice raised too. “I can see it. I, fucking Sasuke Uchiha, can see it. Everyone else can too.”

They had this conversation three more times. Five months before Sarada turned six, they filed for divorce. The Hokage accepted it.

Hatake Kakashi would be retired within the week.

He had never thought he would grow old enough to see past his thirtieth birthday. He had never thought he would sit behind his desk (although Minato had always wanted it). Kakashi was glad for it – he was old, and it was time for the next generation. He had kept the seat warm for long enough. After this, he had more important things to do.

Like read porn and be late.

But it wasn’t over yet. “Come in.”

It was Sasuke. On time. That was clearly one habit he had never picked up from his sensei. “Reporting, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi had admitted that the mission was useless to Sakura before, years before they had divorced, but he hadn’t been entirely truthful. While there was no point in chasing the goddess, Sasuke was often strategically where Kakashi needed an extra body.

“How did it go?”

“Lead poisoning,” came Sasuke’s clipped response. “I brought the man in for questioning.”

That was another thing. Sasuke avoided killing whenever he could, and Kakashi never assigned him assassinations.  He wouldn’t be any good at it anyway. He might know how to kill, but he lacked subtlety.

“And your other mission?”                                               

“I heard gossip about a village in the west,” he said. “I’ll be following that lead on my next excursion.”

Kakashi never knew how to do right by Sasuke. He had given him this mission in hopes that Sasuke would find his own answers, but he was more haunted than ever. “Do you want to?” Kakashi asked. “You’re no longer a pariah. Everyone loves Sarada-chan. I can reinstate you elsewhere.”

Sasuke was silent, but Kakashi was patient. Even Sasuke must tire of chasing ghosts.

He missed his ghosts. Rin no longer gave him unwarranted advice. He would no longer catch flashes of Obito’s red eyes in reflections. But he suspected Sasuke missed his ghosts more. Itachi. Always Itachi.

“Think about it,” Kakashi said. “Preferably before my time as Hokage is up.”

“Hn.”

There was a knock on his door. “Hokage-sama, your next appointment is here.”

Only a matter of days until he no longer had to bear that title. They said the power suit those best who didn’t seek it. Tsunade and Kakashi had been reluctant Hokage’s. The Sandaime was forced to step up to his duty. It was as if the world had been waiting many long years for Naruto to take his place.

Kakashi nodded his dismissal at Sasuke. He passed his next appointment on his way out, exchanging nods. The door shut, and the woman turned to him, eyes narrowed.

“You better not be fucking matchmaking.”

“Rest assured, I’m not that old,” he drawled. “Take a seat. Don’t you want to bore me about the hospital budget?”

She rolled her eyes and circled his desk to sit on the corner of it, primly crossing her legs. “Why bother when I can bully Naruto in a week?” She reasoned with a playful smile. “Instead of sitting with you, arguing for an hour.”

“I’m hurt,” he said, glancing at her legs subtly. Lightning-fast reflexes were of little use behind a desk, but at least he had this. “You’d think you had no time for your old sensei.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She laughed. “Stop looking at my legs.”

Not as subtle as he thought – maybe he was growing old. Kakashi glanced up farther instead. There were circles beneath her eye and a tension in her shoulders. “You look tired, Sakura.”

“Just what a woman wants to hear.” Sakura rolled her eyes.

“Should I relax your duties at the hospital?” He looked over her again, this time more slowly. Pointedly at her legs, and she rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not sleeping.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura said. She sighed, dragging the tips of her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t cut it in a while, and the ends were brushing her shoulders. Motherhood suited her. But so did war. “I just – ”

Kakashi waited.

“Do you want to have lunch with me?” She asked abruptly.

Kakashi didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “Lunch?”

“Are you going deaf?” She snapped. “Yes, lunch.”

“Sorry, Sakura,” he crinkled an eye at her. “I was just surprised you would be asking me out on a date. You didn’t show up to our last one, you know.”

“It’s not a date,” her voice pitched higher, hands clenched into fists. She took a few breaths, calming herself down. In her teenage years, she would have just punched him. “But since you offered so kindly, you can pay. The barbecue place, tomorrow. Noon. Don’t be late – I know how to find you.”

Smiling sweetly, she vanished in a shower of cherry blossom petals.

Grinning beneath his mask, Kakashi picked a petal up. “I guess I did teach you a few things, in the end.” Even if it was only how to get out of a bill.

Sakura had always vowed to be honest with her daughter.

Her parents had lied to her. Easy lies, comfortable lies. Her father had been a merchant and genin, and white lies ran in his blood. Her mother was also a genin, a gate guard. When she was bullied, they told her it would be okay. When she knew she would never have a blood limit, they told her she could be just as good without her.

Maybe they weren’t lies. She was okay now. She was just as fucking good as any Hyuga. But her parents had never told her the whole truth. They hadn’t told her the blood it would take to survive. They didn’t tell her the world would crush her legs and then tell her to stand.

But it was enough that they believed she could stand.

Naruto had been raised on lies because they believed a child couldn’t stand it. The lies they told to Sasuke had almost destroyed him.

They agreed on that much. They would raise their daughter with honesty.

So when Sarada asked why her papa was always leaving, she told her the truth. That there was a mission and that her father had fought in a war and needed the space.

She let Sasuke answer her when she asked why they were ending their marriage. She had no fucking clue.

But Sasuke wasn’t here tonight when she asked, “Aren’t you two soulmates?”

Sakura set the dish down, still damp on the counter. Neither Sakura or Sasuke spoke much about soulmates – neither of them really believed it.  She took a seat across of Sarada, who was still slowly making a dent at her vegetables.

“No, Sarada-chan,” she smiled. “Your father and I aren’t soulmates. What do you know about them?”

Sarada was only eight, but she was clever. “They’re words on your skin, and they tell you who will love you most in the world. The other half of you.”

“That’s a good answer,” Sakura nodded. “But the truth is – well, we don’t know the truth. Humans are born with names on their skin, and sometimes, those names lead to connections - but we don’t have a real answer. I’ve come to believe you must make what you will of whatever name you get. Do you know the Legendary Sannin?”

“Yes!” Sarada said. “Tsunade-sama, Jiraiya-sama, and Oochimaru-sama.”

“They all had each other’s names, but Tsunade-sama loved a man called Dan. Although the Sannin shared a connection that often helped them in battle, and they did care deeply for each other, they weren’t each other’s half.” But she didn’t want her daughter to lose her romanticism either. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t choose it to be that way.”

Sarada nodded solemnly, taking a sip from her glass of water. “What are your and papa’s names?”

“Well, your papa and I are very lucky,” Sakura said after a moment. Honesty. “We both got our best friends. And Hokage’s at that. Sasuke’s is your Uncle Naruto’s, and mine is the Rokudaime.”

“Cool.” Sarada was satisfied by the answer. “Can you help me with my kunai’s after dinner?”

“As long as you finish those vegetables.”

Her daughter groaned.

Sakura ordered tempura shrimp.

Kakashi ordered miso soup.

“You should eat more,” the medic-nin informed him, pointing a chopstick at his direction. “I could practically see your ribs on our last exam.”

“I never thought it’d be you saying that.” When Sakura was younger, in the months prior to the Chunin Exam, it had taken everything Kakashi had to persuade Sakura to go off her diet and eat actual food. He cajoled her. He threatened her. He had stolen her hair dryer, but unlike the rest of them, Sakura had parents who just bought her a new hairdryer. He considered talking to her parents, but that was far too much for him.

At last, he bribed Sasuke with a new jutsu to feign interest in another genin digging into ramen. Unfortunately, while he had assumed it was a girl, it was Neji Hyuga, and Sakura cried for three straight days.

It did work – heartbreak took a lot of comfort food, and Sasuke had awkwardly informed her in a few days that he was admiring the bloodline limit.

He didn’t bother taking lightning-fast sips. Sakura never looked.

“Oh, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “When you’re a mother, you don’t really worry too much about that anymore. There’s no coming back.”

He thought she looked beautiful, but he didn’t say anything. Beautiful. He didn’t know when that happened, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. “How’s Sarada-chan?”

“She asked me about soulmates last night,” Sakura said. “It was bound to happen – I asked at five.”

Kakashi never had the opportunity to ask his father. It was Minato who told him. “What did you say?” 

“I told her that both Sasuke and I had super impressive soulmates,” she grinned. “We both had Hokage’s – or future Hokage’s anyway.”

Kakashi had never looked at it like that, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Have a thing for men in power, do you, Sakura?”

“Should have never turned Gaara down.”

“Ouch.”

They couldn’t talk like this when she first told him that her soulmate was him. He had avoided her for a month, only speaking to her as a Hokage to a shinobi. As the village to its people. Their relationship was too complicated for him. They were fellow soldiers in a war. They were Team Seven. They had left each other behind and had been left behind. They were teacher and student.

It was the last one he couldn’t let go.

Neither of them had known when Sakura was his student. But he had acted as a teacher in the years after that. He would teach her a jutsu every couple of months out of misplaced guilt, leave her chocolates on her birthday, and spar with her with pointers afterward. She was eighteen, maybe nineteen, when he told her.

He went to her wedding and congratulated her and Sasuke.

Sasuke might have been ugly with jealousy, but he didn’t love her then in any way that he didn’t love Sasuke. He cared for her, would go to the ends of the world for her, but she was his fucking student.

They never did anything but – she had known, had known, and let him teach her.

It changed when Sarada was born. He visited the day she was born and not again until she was three months old, and Sakura was in a panic. Someone was bleeding out in the operating room, Sasuke was somewhere in the Land of Lightning, and Sarada wouldn’t stop crying.

Kakashi picked the child up and told Sakura to go save a life, he could handle Sarada for a few hours. After she settled down, Sarada babbled at him, grabbing at his mask. He let her pull it down a few times, and she was delighted at the game.

Somewhere in between then and now, Sakura stopped being his student. If he was honest with himself, she had never really been. It was only his guilt, always his guilt, choking him. It wasn’t fair of him to ignore her, and they fell back into old patterns. It was different – they were older now, leaders of the village. Sakura was a mother and a wife. But it was still the same.

Sakura joked about it since, but they never talked about it.

“How do you do it?” Sakura asked suddenly, and he had a feeling they had gotten to the root of why they were having lunch.

“Do what?” He asked, cautious.

“Keep it together,” she ran a hand through her hair. “I’m always doing it wrong. I’m never doing enough. How do you do it?”

He let out a strangled laugh. “I’m a porn-reading, tired old man who still lives in his bachelor studio.”

Kakashi still hid half his face from his closest friends and the rest of the world. He skipped important meetings to stare at names at the monument and think of older, deader friends. He woke up every morning and forced himself to down prescribed medications with his water.

“You don’t really think that,” Sakura studied him, not quite asking but not quite saying.

“No,” he offered her a fake eye crinkle. “I do have my favorite student have lunch with me every once in a while. It’s not so bad.” He almost reached for his hand but remembered himself and messed up her hair instead. “You’re a wonderful woman, Sakura.”

“Then why do I always feel like I haven’t done enough?” Sakura asked him. “It’s only ever been Sasuke, and I can’t even keep him. I didn’t even leave him. I – ” She bit back her words and angrily stared at her lap. “I feel like – you and Naruto and Sasuke went and saved the world. And I healed you three when it was over. I can’t do things. I want to be a mother that Sarada can be proud of. Not – not damage control.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “And then I’m sick of hearing myself talk like this. I’m in my twenties, and I’m still as insecure as I was as a girl. I’m still trying to compare myself to people I’ll never measure up to.”

He didn’t know what to tell her. Kakashi had never been ambitious, had never searched for power. He did his duty, had been born a prodigy, and knew little else. “I had a teammate in ANBU. He was a genius. Prodigy. First kill at age four. He was the pride of Konoha, but he was a pacifist. Once, he told me that he wanted little more than to be a medic-nin. That he rather apply his talents to healing. I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t really understand it until I met you and watched who you become.”

“Itachi Uchiha,” Sakura surmised.

Yes,” Kakashi said. “You’re not the same as Naruto or Sasuke. Neither of us could really keep up with them.” He winked at her, and to his relief, she giggled.

“He’s so sad no one will spar with him anymore.”

“But you’re a healer. A creator. A mother.” He had spent too much of his life destroying not to be a little envious of that. He had never even pictured having a family until all of his teammates had children. It wasn’t in the books for him.

“You’re right,” she exhaled shakily. “I think I just need that told to me once in a while.”

“Whenever you need it.”

Quickly, she leaned over to press a quick kiss on his masked cheek. “You too. Just so you know.”

His heart skipped a beat.

The illustrations were picture-perfect, meticulous down to every detail. In her eye, she could find no fault. Every diagram, every plant – he had spent the time to recreate them on scroll exactly. She had expected no less, but it was different seeing it.

“Thank you, Sai,” she beamed. “These are priceless. You have no idea how much this will help the program.”

Accurate information about medical chakra and healing came more from experience than books. There were few sources that weren’t sealed in clan libraries, and with Sai’s help, she could change that.

“It was no challenge, Ugly,” he looked proud at the compliment nonetheless.

“I owe you a favor, don’t I?” She asked, leaning against the counter.

“You do.” Ninjas, even ninja friends, didn’t do favors for free. He glanced at her cryptically. “I’ll let you know when to pay me back.”

It was difficult to understand Naruto with how fast his brain worked, but Sakura was comfortable enough to make guesses. Sasuke Uchiha. The power of friendship. The color orange. Dramatic speeches. Honor. Bravery. Friendship.

Sai was unreadable, but she had a bad feeling anyway.

“Within reason,” she warned.

He smiled at her; he was getting better at that. “I’m always reasonable.”

Kakashi had known this would be a terrible idea. He had told Naruto it would be a terrible idea.

But with forty-eight hours until Naruto was Hokage, Naruto had wanted one last Team Seven dinner. There hadn’t been one since the divorce.

“It’ll be fine,” said Naruto. “Sai and Yamato-taichou will be there too.”

He was sure it was a terrible idea when he saw what Sakura was wearing. A modest green dress, but Sakura had always favored high collars, and this deliberately dipped low enough for two characters of his name to be visible. For most, it was meaningless. Sakura was still keeping their secret.

But there was no doubt that each and every member of Team Seven knew what was written there.

It started out fine at first. There weren’t enough chairs at Ichiraku for all of them that day, so they went to the barbecue place. Sakura and Sasuke rarely spoke except when they both told Naruto to shut up at the same time. Kakashi spoke mostly to Yamato and Naruto. So, he didn’t notice her sneaking sake from everyone, or how as time passed by, she grew more and more giggly.

Then she spoke to Sasuke. “I hear you went on a date with Kiba’s cousin.”

“I didn’t.”

“Really?” Sakura asked with wide, innocent eyes. “You could, you know. We’re divorced, just like you wanted. There’s no more need to be sensitive.”

“I’m fine,” Sasuke looked away.

“I just want the best for you, Sasuke-kun,” she leaned toward him. “I date people. I fuck people. It’s totally fine.”

Well, this was his way out of the bill. He caught Sakura’s hand and feigned a smile at the table at large. Sai looked interested, Yamato mortified, and Naruto about as drunk as Sakura. “Sakura forgot, but she promised Pakkun belly-rubs. Time for us to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Sakura protested.

He lowered his voice, squeezing her hand once. “Help your old sensei out and walk him home.”

She conceded, stumbling to her feet. Kakashi looped a hand around her waist (her shirt had ridden up, and his fingers brushed against bare skin and warmth, and he wondered if he was going straight to hell) and pulled her along. She let this go on for a block before she stopped dead.

“I can’t go home,” Sakura clutched at his shirt, words slurring together. “Sarada-chan can’t see me like this.”

Kakashi didn’t know any sobering jutsu’s that worked on medic-nin as powerful as Sakura. If he did, he would have dealt with fewer mornings faced with a hungover Tsundade. “Okay,” he said and took her home instead.

She sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“You’re only drunk,” he poured her a glass of water. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

Sakura didn’t make any move to look up. “Why do I keep doing this?”

“It’ll be okay,” he told her. He had made this promise before, years ago on the hospital roof, when her teammates had nearly slaughtered her. Her closest friend. The father of her children. It had taken him years to keep that promise.

Sakura woke up with a pounding headache. She groaned, curling into the sheets, but the sun was warm on her back. There was a dry taste in her mouth, and she licked her chapped lips. She sat up abruptly. She knew these kunai-patterned sheets, knew the woodsy smell of the man who slept here. She had spent a week grieving in this room.

The memories flooded back.

She groaned. She didn’t know what she was thinking, why that jealous little monster in her chest had climbed out. Kakashi had rescued her from making more of a fool of herself, but her night had blurred out sometimes after he opened his door.

“Kakashi?” She croaked. He must have taken the couch.

He appeared at the doorway. Some part of her had hoped he’d be more unmade, maybe a wrinkled shirt, maybe sweatpants, but he was as unchanged as he was the first time he was ever late to meet them.

“Yo,” he leaned against the door. “There’s water on the nightstand.”

Gratefully, she gulped down the entire cold glass of water. Glancing down, she found she was wearing of his shirts.

He sat on the corner of the bed. “You took your dress off, and I didn’t want you to wake up… confused.”

Sakura was suddenly very, very grateful she hadn’t gone without a bra. Flushing a little, she fiddled with the sheets. “Sorry for taking the bed.”

“I don’t mind,” he crinkled an eye at her.

“No, really,” she reached over, placing her hand over his palm. After a brief moment, he gripped back. “You do so much for me and Sarada-chan. I don’t know how I could have done it all without you.” She scrambled for something to do in return. “Do you need… help with paperwork?”

“Ah, if only you asked that a week ago,” Kakashi said. “But I believe it’s important to leave the paperwork to Naruto.”

“Cruel man,” she teased back. “Well, do you actually need help with giving the dogs belly rubs?”

“When they already like you more than me?” He shook his head. “No, I have a better idea. I’ve got a nick, and you can heal it right up for me.”

“Alright,” she glanced over him, but as usual, every inch of him was covered with jonin-black. “Where?”

Kakashi dragged his mask down.

Sakura squeaked, slapping her hands over her eyes. “Put that back.”

“You don’t want to win the bet?” His voice was amused. “I have it on good authority that Naruto’s first act of Hokage will be to order my mask down.”

Of course she wanted to see his face. “Yes,” she admitted. “But – can I pull it down? It’s just how I imagined it, you know.” She was grateful that her hands were already covering her face because she blushed deeper. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. All three of them – Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto – had their unmasking fantasies. Some were funny, some violent, and Naruto had a strangely sexual one.

As for Sai – he didn’t care, and Yamato had already seen it.

There was a silence. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sakura peered over the tips of her finger, and like he said, he was masked again. She couldn’t remember her small glimpse of his face – only bare skin and a familiar outline of lips. “So, did you nick yourself shaving?”

“Terribly clumsy,” he nodded, solemn.

She shifted over to sit next to him, carefully placing her hands on either side of his face. She met his eyes for approval, and he gave her a slight nod.

The fabric of the mask inched down, and she learned his skin. First, the tip of his nose. Then the rise of his upper lips. The width of his mouth. The cleft of his chin. The shape of his jaw, and then she was holding nothing.

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but run her hands over his face, skimming his mouth, his high cheekbones.

His eyes crinkled, but this time, she could see the smile too. “Do you approve?”

“Do you need my approval?” She laughed breathlessly, letting her hands fall to her side. He was attractive but averagely attractive. None of the swoon-worthy good looks of Sasuke but more masculine, more stern. Handsome.

“Desperately.”

“You have it, Rokudaime-sama,” she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Without the mask. “I win the second bet, by the way.”

He raised his brows. His cheeks were a little pinked, but maybe she was imagining it. “What was the second bet?”

“How you look like,” she grinned. “I knew you’d be hot.”

No, he was definitely blushing. “Aren’t you supposed to be healing me, Sakura?”

“That’s right,” she remembered. She located the minor nick, nothing more than a paper-cut, and watched it vanish with a touch and a glow of green. “You did to make me feel better, didn’t you?”

And it worked. She couldn’t think about last night when Kakashi’s face was right before her.

“I’ll make breakfast,” he dodged the question. “You can have the shower. Eggs or pancakes?”

“Eggs,” she decided. Sakura watched him leave, mask still down, and wondered for the slightest of moments, what it would be like to wake up next to that face. To wake up in his shirt every morning, to kiss his cheek good morning, to fall asleep next to him, to marry him, to have his children, to –

But no. They were idle daydreams. Old things.

“There is one last thing I must do as Hokage.”

Kakashi had never liked giving speeches. In ANBU, there had never been any need. As team leader, well, Naruto made enough for the both of them. As Hokage, it had been an avoidable responsibility for a man who rather find a quiet spot in the shade to read. But for the first time in years, he was looking forward to the words he had to say.

“I, and we, the village of Konoha, must honor Uzumaki Naruto. He has fought with us, lead us, and passed down the Will of Fire. There is no shinobi that burns as brightly as him.” The citizens and shinobi gathered in the square roared their approval.

“None stronger than him. I am honored to pass down the title of Hokage to Uzumaki Naruto.”

Naruto grinned at him, blue eyes bright with tears. Kakashi often thought about how much he looked like Minato, but in this moment, all he could see was Kushina. He placed the hat on Naruto’s head, and the crowd cheered louder.

“Your parents would be very proud of you.” He squeezed Naruto’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you.”

Sakura sniffed, resting her head on Sasuke’s shoulder. She had apologized this morning, and he had forgiven her. They had long decided that they wanted to watch this moment as a family. Sakura and Sasuke had both bled for this to become.

“I’m so happy,” she murmured. “He deserves this so much.”

She felt Sasuke nod. “He does.”

Sarada tugged her hand. “Okaa-san?”

“Yes?” Sakura glanced down at her daughter. Sarada was staring straight ahead with certainty, eyes fixed on Naruto and Kakashi.

“I’m going to be Hokage.”

Sakura and Sasuke exchanged glances. “Here we go again,” said Sasuke, but the words were accompanied by a quiet smile.

“You will be,” she smiled at them both. “Believe it.”

Hatake Kakashi had a crush. Men of his age didn’t have crushes. He didn’t realize until Genma slapped his shoulder, dragging his gaze away from Sakura.

“What?” He asked.

“Man, you’ve got it bad.” Genma whistled.

Kakashi tried to find an excuse as to why he was watching her across the tea shop. She hadn’t noticed his presence, immersed in conversation with Ino. He tried to blame the shape of her legs or how she had tied her pink hair up so he could see length of her neck. Or how her hands moved when she spoke and how bright her eyes was and how he could imagine the lilt of her voice.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Genma took a gulp of his tea.

“I’ll get over it,” Kakashi shrugged. “Man likes woman. Woman is far too young for him and a mother and a previous student. Man moves on.”

Genma snorts. “You don’t like women. You fall in love with women.”

Kakashi blinked. “No... I don’t… “ He hadn’t loved anyone since Rin, and he didn’t know if he could call a childhood creature of guilt and pain and belonging love anymore than Sakura’s early infatuation with Sasuke.

Genma rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, woman means Sakura.” 

Kakashi’s head dropped onto the table.

“That’s the favor you want of me?” Sakura demanded.

Sai’s hands remained steady over his work, brushing careful strokes of ink against the white parchment. Sakura suppressed the urge to slap her hand on the white and smudge his precise work, so maybe he’d be less fucking cryptic.

“Yes,” he said.

“You want me to be happy,” she repeated.

“Is that so terrible a favor to ask, Sakura?” Her name always sounded strange coming from him, after so many years of being nicknamed. He only switched to it in front of Sarada.

“You’re really sure about what you said though?” Sakura asked, biting her lips. She hugged a couch cushion to her tightly. “Really, really sure?”

“Doubt a trust-worthy source like Ino?” Sai asked with a quick smile. “I wouldn’t say so if I wasn’t sure myself. Think about it. It all fits.” He sets his brush down. “Besides, you do owe me a favor.”

She studied her own face in the ink. It was a smiling Sakura – not a young one, she could tell. Her hair was as long as it was now, and there were smile wrinkles. Ink Sakura was looking off the page, affectionately smiling at someone off to the side. Loving someone.

“I see that.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay.”

Sakura’s fist smashed into the tree. Bark splintered, but Sakura was already twisting around. “Where are you?” She snapped. “Stay still so I can hit you.”

A wave of water rose up toward her, and Sakura barely made the hand-motions in time to deter it with a dam of earth. “Tempting prospect, Sakura, but I’ll have to say no,” Kakashi called, perched on a branch of a neighboring tree.

Growling, she threw a shuriken at him, but of course, he dodged it. She didn’t feel like a fancy jutsu battle. Channeling her chakra into her feet, she stomped hard. The ground gave away beneath her, including Kakashi’s tree. Now he was just where she wanted him.

He came at her with a crescent kick, which she blocked, aiming a punch for his ribs. He groaned when she met her target but countered with a flurry of blows she could barely keep track off. Distracted by his hands, she didn’t notice when a kick swept her off her feet. He pinned her to the ground.

“I win,” he was breathing hard.

She twisted her hips beneath him, testing the restraints of his grip. She swung her hip up enough for him to dodge, and finding the slack in his grip, she rolled him over, so she was the one on top.

“I win,” she informed him. She was careful to keep her body high enough that he wouldn’t be able to play the same trick on her.

“Fine, you win,” he gave in. “Now heal me up.”

She laughed, rolling off him. She was worse off than she was – he had only broken a few ribs, a few nicely placed bruises. After healing them both, she lied on the grass for a few moments, catching her breath. Next to her, Kakashi flipped through Icha Icha Tactics.

“Violence is better,” she murmured.

“You always say that,” he didn’t look up from his book. “And you’re always wrong.”

Sakura hummed, sitting up. She rested against him, back to back, and closed her eyes. “Guess what Ino told me?”

“I probably don’t want to know.”

Her lips twisted. He probably didn’t. “I’m telling you anyway, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“Ino told Sai who told me that Genma-san said something interesting,” Sakura said. His back stiffened against hers.

“Oh?” He asked carefully.

She watched the sky, the swirl of clouds and the flock of birds, stark against the bright blue. Maybe this was a bad idea. But maybe they both deserved happiness.

She switched topics. “When Sasuke divorced me, I chose to keep my name. I wanted to have the same name as Sarada.”

“I remember.”

Sakura had explained this reasoning to Kakashi years ago when he accepted the divorce papers.

“Uchiha Sakura,” she repeated. “Your soulmate is an Uchiha, isn’t it?”

“Sakura,” he rasped.

She turned around, and he was turning too, gaze dark and entirely on her.

“I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my soulmate is a Hatake.” She tilted her head to the side. “Know any?”

“Sakura, the chances of this – it’s near impossible.”

“You like me,” she demanded. “Right? You like me.”

Because now that Ino told her, now that Sai told her, she could see it herself. The way Kakashi’s gaze followed her. How his smiles for her were different. He touched her more. He paid for their meals – sometimes. He tutored Sarada in basic jutsus. He had showed her his face and let her touch his skin.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“Then who cares?” She caught his hands in hers. “Maybe we aren’t soulmates. Maybe we are. But that hasn’t ever mattered for us. I don’t love you yet, not like that, but I like you. I want to… make you that eggplant miso soup you like, and I want to talk about Icha Icha plots, and I want to cuddle on the couch.”

“We already do all that,” he stared at her hands like he couldn’t believe they were real. Like he was wondering. Like she was wonderment.

“I want to kiss you then,” she reached forward, running her hands through his hair. “I want to wake up next to you.”

“I’m too old for you,” Kakashi said, gaze on her mouth.

“Not anymore.”

“I was your teacher,” he breathed.

“Thanks for teaching me how to climb up trees. Next.”

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve to be happy,” she whispered. “You make me happy.”

He reached for her as she reached for him, fumbling with his mask, and his mouth found hers, wonderful and warm and wanting. She kissed him, slowly, wanting to learn his mouth, to trace her hand down his jaw. His hand rested on her waist, hesitant, like it didn’t belong there. She kissed him harder, dug her other hand into his hair, telling him, you belong there. She kissed him harder, dug her other hand into his hair, telling him, yes, me too. Yes, I feel this too. Yes, you belong, here, with me. Home.

Kakashi couldn’t believe he agreed to this. “No one else had better see this,” he glanced at Sai’s careful work on paper. There wasn’t as much as a photograph of him since he was a child without the mask. Now he was letting Sai draw a portrait.

“It’s only for Ino,” Sai continued his work.

“That makes me feel better,” he muttered. “Only for Konoha’s biggest gossip.” He paused. “Can I get a copy too?”

“For Sakura?” Sai smirked.

He only glowered. They sat in silence for a little longer before he asked. “You’re the one who figured out this soulmate theory. Why?”

“It’s only logical deduction,” he said. “For one, I believe Naruto’s soulmate is also Sasuke. Although the characters are unreadable, the single character that can be seen could be a -la. Of course, I don’t know, but it would make sense.”

Kakashi sighed. “It would.”

Naruto and Sasuke had spent years chasing each other, hating each other, bleeding for each other. They were somewhere between best friends and enemies, brothers and lovers. But they had always been better apart than together. That was their own tragedy.

“And if Sasuke isn’t your soulmate,” Sai went on. “And the mark is still black, it could only be Sakura. Or Sarada, but we can agree that’s unlikely.”

“But it was black long before Sakura was an Uchiha. When she was a baby.”

Sai met his gaze. “Did you ever love her as a Haruno?”

No. He hadn’t. He had fallen in love with her a few years after she was already married to Sasuke and had buried the feelings because they were wrong. Because he still didn’t believe he could deserve her.

“Soulmates are strange things,” Sai shrugged when Kakashi didn’t answer him. “Perhaps yours was waiting for Sakura to grow up. To become the woman you fall in love with.”

“Maybe.”

Sakura turned her head from side to side, admiring the braid crown her daughter had woven into her hair. “I love it,” she kissed Sarada’s forehead.

“Of course, you do,” Sarada smoothened a stray strand. “I made it.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. Sarada was fragments of her father, fragments of herself, and mostly this beautiful, wonderful creature that she couldn’t believe she had part in making but – well, she certainly had the Uchiha arrogance.

“You look beautiful,” Sarada added.

“Thank you, Sarada-chan,” Sakura smiled. He had seen her in war and after birth and stomping through a swamp. She liked the dress on her, but she knew it didn’t matter. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“It’s a little weird,” Sarada said, wrinkling her nose. “I mean, he’s kinda old, isn’t he?”

Sakura giggled. “Respect your elders. But I know, tell me about it.”

“I guess if you like him,” her daughter shrugged. The doorbell rung, and Sarada ran off to get it before she could.

Sakura turned back to the mirror and took a deep breath. She hadn’t been out on a date for years. She could do this. She was a shinobi, a medic-nin, and she was going to kick ass. She slipped out of her bedroom and met him in the living room.

“Yo,” he glanced up from where Sarada was trying to convince him to show his face. “Your daughter’s too much like you.”

Sarada huffed.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Sakura laughed. “Sarada-chan, Naruto will be here in a couple of minutes.”

“Ugh, he’ll bring Boruto,” Sarada complained.

“Be nice,” she warned her daughter.

“But not too nice,” Kakashi said.

Sakura smacked his arm, but she couldn’t resist smiling. She was glowing in a kind of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long while. Maybe a kind of happiness she had never felt. “Hi,” she murmured, kissing his cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he slipped his hand into hers.

She smiled. “Beautiful enough for you to pay for dinner?”

“Just this once.”

(Kakashi would prove to pay the bill many, many more times. It was important to note that there was still one significant dine-and-dash scenario when Kakashi remembered the ring and not the wallet.)