Work Text:
One night, he wakes,
Strange look, on his face,
Pauses, then says,
You’re my, best friend,
And you knew, what it was,
He is, in love..
You Are In Love- Taylor Swift
Sakura is beautiful. Sakura is strong. Sakura could burn the whole fucking world down- if she wanted to. No, no… That’s not right.. Sakura- Sakura could ruin the world, the universe, she could crumble mountains and crack earth, level cities and destroy civilizations, but she would never use fire. She wouldn’t need fire. She would need only her two fists. Her two fists, and a reason.
Sakura doesn’t know this. She doesn’t see this. She doesn’t comprehend this. You ask her of strength and her eyes flicker to a boy with bright hair, her mind conjures an image of a boy with red, spinning eyes, her mouth opens to form the name of an old man with too many ghosts. Your name.
Kakashi-sensei she answers. Kakashi-sensei, when I think of strength, I think of you.. You eye-smile at that but underneath, you want to cry. You really do. You don’t even completely understand why. Why her answer brings up that reaction from you. You feel the eye covered by your hitae-it moisten- (that eye is cursed in more ways than one) -but at the same time you want to scream. You want to shout and shake the wide-eyed miracle in front of you hard enough that the veil lifts and she sees herself as all else see her.
A civillian girl who saw the world as it was through sharp green eyes. Who saw the ninja come and go. Saw them go and not come back. Saw them fight and defend and laugh and cry and live. A civillian girl who saw this wonderful, amazing, lively, ridiculous, painful, painful, painful life and decided I want this. A civillian girl who walked into a ninja academy, with her little pink head held high, and her all-seeing emerald eyes sharp with determination. A civillian girl who endured the laugher, the pointing, the shoving, the name-calling, the rough housing- A civillian girl who endured the bullying and made it out of the academy with a forehead protector clutched in her small fist and the title Top Kunoichi to boot.
A civillian girl, who saw the dead clan head’s son- a proud, arrogant, ignorant, hurting boy- and saw only someone she could love. A civillian girl who got lost in the last stages of her academy days. Who saw love as something that should rule her. Saw love as something all-encompassing, the top priority. Saw love as something powerful and beautiful. A civillian girl who forgot that love isn’t true until it’s returned. A civillian girl who blinded and buried herself with love. A civillian girl who pushed away those who had helped her, held out their hands for her, carried her, protected her, all for the sake of love. A civillian girl who would sacrifice anything and everything for love.
And then this naive civillian girl became a naive little kunoichi. A naive kunoichi who experienced the death of the one she loved. A naive kunoichi who witnessed the downfall of the one she loved. A naive kunoichi who looked to her right and saw the sun, and looked to the left and saw the moon, and looked to the front and saw a god and never realised that she was their solar system. A naive kunoichi who tore her hair out of her skull, to protect the one she loved. A naive kunoichi who impaled herself on the enemy’s blade, just for the tiny chance of her saving her love. A naive kunoichi, who, when faced against three elder, crueller, nastier, stronger ninja, did not run, but stood tall and steady. A barrier between them, and the one she loved.
A naive kunoichi who woke up one night to a sharp pain in her chest and an acute fear in her head and had not panicked, but instead followed her instincts and ran to the gates of Konoha, to arrive to the sight of the dead clan head’s hurting son- her one true love, the boy she had knocked heads for, and lost friends for, and gained scars for, and put her very life on the line for- leave. A kunoichi who loved so hard and so deep that when the boy looked at her with spinning red eyes, she did not flinch but instead held out her hand and voiced the ultimate sacrifice, pleaded take me with you.
That night, the girl, the ninja, the kunoichi, learned that unrequited love hurts like a bitch.
Still, the not-so-naive-anymore kunoichi did not give up. She never gave up. She walked into the Hokage tower, much the same way she had walked into the academy all those years ago, face set in determination, and came out with the title Apprentice to The Hokage. A strong kunoichi who had once been considered weak, pitiful, untalented, unfit, pathetic- became the type of kunoichi that caused men to tremble in fear and shinobi to lower their eyes in respect. The type of kunoichi that caused diseased women and children to flock around her, and injured men to get on their knees for. A kunoichi who left as many healed bodies behind her as she did broken ones. The unhealthy all-encompassing love she had held before- grew into something healthier, more mature, something that benefitted all those around her. Her love for the hurting clan head’s son, became her main motivator, her drive.
A kunoichi, whose heart has always remained soft and tender. A kunoichi who never let her first experience with love harden her, jaden her. Who has never made the same mistakes you did. Who never shut down and locked others out. Never hidden the emotions from her face and looked down upon those less skilled than her. A kunoichi that has seen more death than most, who still burns as bright as the sun and the moon and the stars and the god she considers those around her to be.
Sakura is the embodiment of love. You see that now. Compared to before, where all you saw was a stupid, shallow, naive girl. A waste of your time. A distraction from the real power. You regret disregarding her training. You regret not giving her a chance. You regret not becoming her sensei in the true meaning of the word. You never taught her anything. You never taught her anything beyond what she already knew. You taught her that abandoning her friends makes her worse than trash- she already knew that giving up on love would turn her into worse.
And she loves you. You know she does. You see it in her eyes when she smiles at you and in her glowing green hands that reach for your head at your slightest wince. But you also know that she loves others more. You see her kiss Naruto’s cheek and bury her head in her shishou’s bosom and pose patiently for a smiling Sai. You see her reach out for the dead clan head’s hurting traitorous son again and again and again. You see her cry and chase and reach and beg for the boy that she loves most to come back. In your mind you have no doubt that he is the one she would choose over all. No doubt that if it came down to a choice. A choice between you and him, she would choose him each and every time.
You never consider that her heart could change, grow, evolve. You never consider that the beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, kunoichi before you is no longer the small civillian girl, no longer the naive little kunoichi, no longer Sasuke-obsessed Sakura. You don’t see her eyes follow you, or her cheeks tint when she sees you. You don’t hear the heat in her voice when she talks of you or the husk in her voice when she talks to you. You don’t feel the lingering touches and you don’t smell your favourite scent on her and you don’t notice any of the hundreds of red flags she sets up .
You know that you love her of course. How could you not? When she blinks her short but thick lashes around wide forest-green eyes, you feel your chest tighten. And when she tilts her head back to laugh, her teeth catching the light and her long, thick, pink but somehow wild hair falling down in waves around her slender neck, you feel your breath hitch. And when you see her pull of her shirt, her bound breasts fighting to escape their confines and her smooth, hard muscles rippling beneath her skin, you feel an uncomfortable tightening in your lower regions. And when finally she confronts you about her feelings one day, you’re too far gone to care if she’s sincere or not.
And after that you spend many months in bliss. And it’s not even due to the sex (although the sex is great, amazing, spectacular, fantas- you get the point). No, it’s more than that. The bliss.. It’s the kind of bliss that comes from waking up to smell breakfast coming from the kitchen. The kind of bliss that comes from being the one to cook breakfast for her early in the morning. The bliss that comes from having a pair of soft, beautiful lips always ready, open for you to press yours against. The bliss that comes from having someone to hold your hand and rub your shoulders and massage the kinks out of your back. The bliss that comes from having someone you can talk with for hours without getting bored.
And you do talk. For the first time ever, you talk. You tell her about Obito, about Rin. About your father and Minato-sensei and Kushina-san. You tell her about the war, about the missions and about the deaths you became responsible for when you were still too damn young. You tell her about ANBU and Root and the sandaime. You tell her about your last girlfriend, over ten years ago and her abortion. You tell her everything you’ve held back all these years. But that’s not all. You also tell her about your favourite books that aren’t Jiraiya's porn, about your favourite foods, the beautiful places you’ve seen. You talk about your dislike for responsibility and the feeling you get when you use your lightning chakra. You talk about your nin-dogs and your favourite hair products and the local mask shop. You talk about everything and anything and by the end of a month, she knows more about you than anyone else, ever.
You don’t realise that she’s in love with you until Sasuke returns. And then suddenly all the undeniable evidence is shoved into your face and you feel like a fool for ever doubting her. You see her brush off Sasuke’s tentative hand on her shoulder. You see her eyes roll mockingly when he talks. You see her land a punch on him, cracking his ribs and damaging his lungs. Of course, afterwards you see her heal him to perfection, but her mouth stays as a thin line and her movements are brisk and unconcerned. You see her eyes flicker to meet yours every so often and you have to fight to keep your satisfied smirk of your face, that is, until you remember you’re wearing a mask. Then you smirk and smirk and smirk and don’t even question Naruto’s curious looks or Sasuke’ disturbed scowl.
You want to put into words how beautiful her hair is. How unique. How lovely. You want to write poetry and sing ballads and come up with folk tales for her hair. Her perfect pink locks. They are not silky, not like Rin’s used to be, but they’re not exactly stiff either. Her hair is thick and almost aggressively straight, the pointed ends rolling off her scalp, barely brushing her shoulders. Her hair flies around her face when she moves, a pink halo around her deceptively gentle face. You don’t know how to describe it. You don’t know how to make it make sense, but her hair, despite the ridiculously girly colour, looks dangerous somehow. It looks fierce and sleek and alive. Maybe it’s just you, you think. Maybe it’s just you who’s learned to associate Sakura, and therefore by extension her hair, with those characteristics. But then you hear her new bingo book name, The Deadly Pinkhead. You snort at that, while her teammates tease her, but secretly you think it suits her.
When Sakura knocks on your door one night, her pink hair drenched from the storm raging outside, and her eyes wild and glinting, you feel your stomach curl in apprehension. You’ve done something wrong. You open the door and she barges in, pushing past you, without a word exchanged. Her clothes are wet. She’s not wearing civilian clothes, she stopped wearing those a long time ago, but she isn’t wearing her usual ninja gear either. She’s in- formal wear, you realise. A dark red kimono, relatively plain with cherry blossom patterns dyed into the cloth. How cliche’ you think but you shake the thought off. Her sash is a green that matches her eyes and she looks- well, in all honesty she looks like a drowned cat. A really attractive drowned cat.
She looks around, her eyes still blazing and you close the door quietly and watch her with a quiet sort of apprehension. “Sakura?” you ask finally. She whirls around and catches sight of you and it seems that her anger all just melts away, along with all her emotions altogether.
“Kakashi-sensei” she says, voice flat. Her just-a-second-ago blazing eyes are now dull, dim. Without warning she starts stripping, untying her sash and letting her soaked kimono fall down to the floor. She’s still dressed, sort of. She had on a mesh shirt and mesh shorts, protecting her vital organs from any senbon to come her way, though not much else. Still, the mesh shirts are not built for modesty and you can see every curve, every dip and valley, every hitch of breath and every bone shifting beneath her skin.
She stands there in her skin-tight clothes, her chest barely moving with her breaths and her hands clenched. You don’t know what to do, how to break the silence. Kami-dammit, you’re useless. You have no fucking idea what you’re supposed to do, supposed to say. So you stand there, your back ramrod straight and you wait. You wait for what feels like days. The clock on the wall has only ticked for two minutes when she starts to talk.
“I need to get pregnant” she says, voice steady, her green eyes locked on yours. You feel your heart skip a beat. Then two. Then three. Then you’re on the floor and Sakura is crouched over you, her hands glowing green above the organ that just gave out. Her face is still a little grim but there’s a trace of mirth there as well. She helps you sit up and leans you against the wall before she settles down beside you. You turn your head a little to face her.
“Pregnant?” you voice, a little faintly. For a split second her mouth twitches into something like a smirk, but then you blink and it’s gone, replaced with a heavy sort of weariness.
“Yes, you’re the last Hatake. I’m your girlfriend. The Daimyo has requested that we produce your heir”.
You frown and take some time to formulate a response. So many words, sentences, questions, answers run through your head. You want to ask her if she wants a child. You want to ask her if she wants your child. You want to ask her if she told the Daimyo to fuck off. You want to ask her if she’ll break off with you. You want to tell her that she’s the only one you’d ever consider having children with. You want to tell her she’s too young to have a child. You want to say something that will get her to respond with I’ll never leave you. Instead you settle for a quiet, “I don’t want to have kids”.
She knows this already, of course. And you already know what her response will be. “I don’t either” she whispers. Her face is turned towards you, her head tilting up slightly and both of you are leaning back against the wall. You bring your face a little closer to hers. “We don’t have to” you breath. She frowns a confused frown, her pink eyebrows drawing together and her eyes fixed onto yours. “What do you mean? You know we have to. Soon.” she draws back a little from you. You lift your hand to the back of her head and pull her in, pressing your mouth to her ear. “We could leave” your whisper is low, barely audible.
You stay like that for a few seconds, your mouth against her ear. You feel her shallow breaths and you hear her heartbeat race. Then she reverses the position so her mouth is against your ear, her breath tickling you. “Ok” she breathes and that’s that.
***
You do have a child, eventually. Years and years and years later. When Sakura is no longer a teenager and you have finally stopped wearing the mask and the world is stable and safe to live in. You return to Konoha that year, after what feels like a lifetime of peaceful days in a beautiful far away land by the sea. You’ll cherish those memories forever. Your child is a tiny boy in a bundle of blue, his pink hair thin like yours and already starting to drift up in a gravity-defying manner.
You don’t want him to become a shinobi, you don’t want him to become a killing tool, you don’t want him to experience death and injury and pain. You don’t want him to become like you, but at the same time you don’t want to deprive him of the wonderful sense of flying you get when you jump from rooftop to rooftop. You don’t want to deprive him of the electric heat that flows through your veins when you use your chakra. You don’t want to deprive him of the chance to become strong, to make lifelong companions, to achieve amazing things.
Sakura grabs your hand as you walk through the gates to the sight of Naruto’s face up on the Hokage monument and you squeeze her fingers back. In the sling around Sakura’s neck, Masaru wakes up and starts to cry. And as you feel the familiar chakra signatures running towards you, your expression shifts and your friends see your fully visible smile for the first time.