When A Petal Falls

A dark world aches for a splash of sun

Song note: / Cough Syrup by Young The Giant

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Sakura Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

As she made through the intrepid heat, mind wandering over the consequences of her ex team captains antics. He wasn't one to deviate much from duty, 'well he hadn't been caught as much'.

But this earlier episode was bound to induce the wrath of the legendary sannin, in more ways than one and in plenty of abundance. Sakura theorized that her mentor would strike Kakashi at his weakest, when he was training to take up the Hokage chair, when he took time to rest and read and or when he as much as breathed in her general direction. Sakura flinched internally as bygone memories welled up in the back of her mind; hoarse shouting, dirt, fists, drunken splurges, there accompanying hangovers and failed gambling sprees. It was going to be hell for him, and at first she gave a short huff of laughter at the thought. Then she remembered. She was going to miss it all from her new life in the Sand. Slowly her humor was eroded and a sadness gripped her, not like a knife but a slow pressure deep in her gut. Uncomfortable and unshakable.

Stopping as she reached her destination her thoughts also came to a halt she started to plan out how she would exactly she would handle this. As she looked up at his apartment, many stories above her she watched as a bird danced cheerily on a flower basket carefully sheltered on the ledge of his balcony. The bird seemed to look down to her quizzically as a thought emerged out of her earlier gloom at the reality of her future, one which left a half devious smile cross her face. A simple uncomplicated and childish notion had been whispered from the deep recess of her mind. The side of her that had been asleep for years seemingly stirred and prompted...For all the windowsill surprises, for all the silly little tricks, and childish glee at getting away with it. A voice shouted eagerly, encouragingly...

'IT'S TIME FOR VENGENCE! LET'S DO THIS!'

It wasn't unlike Kakashi to be above such antics, so she came to the conclusion that she shouldn't be held to account for some simple fun either. Before anyone walking through the streets noticed, the pink kunoichi started to scale the building before her. Aptly she moved through the grooves in the brick work with her fingers and let her chakra do the rest of the work through her boots. As she approached the ledge, the tiny bird ruffled its feathers almost in anticipation and bounced to the other side of the pot to watch her.

With her tiny feathered audience waiting for the show she poked her head around the side of the balcony to look at what she had to work with.

A single wide window, roughly fitting her height if she crouched, one curtain was messily tied back to give room to the fresh air, whilst its partner hung half lazily pulled over to stop the sun reaching the bed. The bed where a half dressed figure lay asleep amongst twisted green sheets, with an open copy of Icha Icha Paradise covering their face.

It should have been an odd sight, but it wasn't, it really wasn't. If you had any experience with the future Sixth Hokage as your teacher. The only changing variable was the absence of a shirt. The heat must have left him cooking from the inside. Kakashi hadn't received or moved to a new build after the war, the new builds with air conditioning and proper insulation for winter. One's that functioned as normal homes and didn't attempt to slowly bake their owners.

'No he was relieved' to retain his old home and embraced it happily regardless of its fittings or lack thereof.

She watched his chest slowly rise and fall with the deep patterned breaths of sleep. The scars left from his fight with Obito drew two soft pink lines across him, two of many that she had previously healed on him. He was always getting hurt and always without concern for himself. Looking over the map of battles left permanently on fair skin, she tried to blink the flickering images of the green aura of healing chakra over his wounds from mind. She really hated that, the way her memories would do this to her. It was like living a life half split from yourself with an occasional haunting which came and went without as much of a knock on the door to signal its arrival. It was hard, to see strong people crumble; blood and bone, dirt and tears meet at a battles end. It was just that. It was always hard, and always a part of the present as much as it was the past and the future.