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dimigex · 2 years

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All or Nothing - You Know I'd Fight For You (KakaSaku)

A03, Fanfiction, Ko-fi

This is the newest installment of the mess I started with I'll be the Moon. It's not going to be for everyone. Make sure you check the tags before you read! I'm going to tag @birkastan2018 simply because I've been teasing this mess for a while.

Full chapter below the cut!

Huffing out a breath, Sakura pushed a strand of hair behind her ear for the fifth time. She frowned at the banner on the wall in front of her, then growled when she realized that it was crooked, again. Tearing the tape loose, Sakura tugged the flimsy material a couple of inches higher and checked again. “Fourth time’s the charm,” she grumbled under her breath. The bright pink letters stood out in stark contrast with the white background: H-A-P-P-Y B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y S-A-R-D-A-!-!

Sakura stared at the letters for several seconds, then hissed in annoyance. She should have checked the banner more closely before putting it up, but she’d been in a hurry when she stopped by the printer. Glancing at her watch, Sakura’s complaint deepened into a resigned sigh. She needed to finish decorating, pick up the cake from the bakery, retrieve the balloons, and cook before the guests started to arrive.

Before having a child, Sakura hadn’t realized how much work went into planning a birthday party. That’s why there’s usually two people for it, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her mind. Out of habit, Sakura’s gaze turned toward the place on the wall where the picture of her and Sasuke usually hung. She’d meant to pick up a new frame for the one that she and Kakashi had broken, but she hadn’t gotten around to it. It was somewhere on her list of impossible things to accomplish each day after work.

“Mama?” The small voice drew Sakura from her multitude of worries, and she turned to find Sarada walking down the hall with a beaming face. Streaks of blue, red, and yellow marred the girl’s cheeks and arms, smeared into her clothes, and clung to her hair in sticky, colorful strands.

“Sarada!” Sakura’s tone brought the girl up short. Her lower lip puckered out, and tears filled her dark eyes. Sakura tried counting to ten under her breath the way she’d read about, but she only made it to four. “What did you do?”

Liquid trickled from the corner of one eye, threatening to become a deluge. “I painted a picture, mama.”

In her horror at the paint marring her daughter’s face, Sakura hadn’t noticed the paper that Sarada held. There were two vaguely humanoid shapes on the page, comical smiles painted on their faces as they stood in front of a rudimentary house. A thick streak of blue dripped along the edge of the page, threatening to fall to the floor. Moving on instinct, Sakura scooped the paper and Sarada up in one effortless movement. It was only when she felt the dampness soaking through her shirt that she thought about the mess it would make. Ignoring that, she carried them both to the bathroom.

“You like it?” Guiltless black eyes stared up at Sakara as she settled Sarada on the counter, tears still threatening to reappear at any moment.

Sakura forced herself to take another breath as she took the picture away from her daughter and laid it beside them. She smiled through the stress that had built up at the back of her neck and nodded. “I do, but are you supposed to use the finger paints without mama?”

Sarada considered for a moment, then shook her head. “No.”

“Then, why did you?” Sakura continued, wondering if trying to teach a child logic grew easier or more difficult as they aged. Five years into it, and she was starting to think that she’d be repeating herself forever.

The impish grin that split Sarada’s face would have normally melted Sakura’s annoyance. “ I wanted to surprise you.”

Sakura managed to count all the way to ten before nodding. Being angry wouldn’t solve anything, and she knew that her annoyance was largely from the stress of the party rather than the painting. She should have gone to check on why Sarada was being so quiet, but she’d thought the girl was playing with her dolls, blocks, or one of the other toys that littered the floor most of the time. She peeked her head back into the hallway where she could see the shelf that held the art supplies and noted the chair that Sarada had used to reach them. Sakura would need to move them higher still, right after she cleaned up the mess.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Sakura stripped the paint-smeared clothing off of Sarada and tossed it into the hamper. Warm water would remove the rest of the mess, but it wouldn’t leave them much time to get ready for the party. Sighing, Sakura pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her pants. For the briefest moment, she considered texting Kakashi. He’d been there for her in the past when she needed help in a pinch, but they hadn’t spoken since their fight.

Pushing the thought away, Sakura selected Naruto’s number instead. The phone rang twice before the man’s familiar voice filled her ear. “Hey, Sakura. Are we late already,” he asked as soon as the line connected.

Sakura managed a chuckle as she turned on the bathtub. “No, the party isn’t til four, but I was hoping you or Hinata could do me a huge favor.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Naruto rarely asked what Sakura needed before offering to help; he simply jumped in where he could. Though the years had morphed them into adults with a myriad of new responsibilities and worries, some things would never change.

A wash of nostalgia stole Sakura’s breath. She gave herself a few heartbeats to wonder what life might have been like if things were different, but she couldn’t follow that path. Shaking her head, Sakura returned her attention to the girl in the bathtub while simultaneously focusing on the man on the phone. That was her life now.

“I was hoping you guys might be able to come over early and help me decorate. Or, maybe play with Sarada so I can finish cooking? I have so much to get done, but it’s impossible to do it all by myself.” Turning off the water, Sakura pulled a fluffy, pink towel from the closet, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

For a moment, silence answered the request. Then, Naruto’s voice returned, gentler than before. “Isn’t Sasuke home?”

“He has a mission,” Sakura responded, refusing to question why she protected her husband from their former teammate’s scrutiny. It wasn’t like Naruto didn’t know how long the man was away. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see that Sasuke wasn’t home. Still, Sakura put on the best face over the absence. “Sasuke wasn’t able to complete it before the party, but he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

Naruto started to say something, then cut himself off with a sigh. “Let me make sure that Hinata can have Boruto ready, then we’ll be there. Give me just a sec.”

Sakura listened as Naruto called out for Hinata. They talked in muffled tones on the other end of the phone as she turned her attention back to Sarada. The girl stared up at her with a far too calculating expression. Sarada had Sasuke’s coloring, all dark hair and unreadable, black eyes. Her gaze was sharp as her father’s sometimes.

Before Sakura could dwell on it, Naruto returned to the phone. “Yeah, we’ll be over in a little bit. Give us like twenty minutes?”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Sakura breathed, feeling some of the tension ease out of her shoulders at the idea of finally having help with everything that needed done. “I’ll see you soon.”

After disconnecting the call, Sakura smoothed a hand over Sarada’s soft hair. “You’ve got five minutes, then you’re getting out.”

When the girl returned to playing with the toys she’d left in the tub the previous night, Sakura glanced back at her phone. She still needed someone to pick up the balloons and the cake. A part of Sakura knew that if she asked Kakashi, he would do it. They hadn’t seen each other since that terrible night a month ago. His voice echoed in the silent place of Sakura’s heart, sharp and jagged as broken glass.

Sakura had texted Kakashi twice since their fight, break-up, or whatever it had been. She apologized once, then told him that she missed him and wanted to fix things between them. Both of the messages had gone unanswered, which Sakura knew was an answer in itself, much as the empty room had been. Kakashi had broken off their relationship, then left it behind without a backward glance. She did her best to accept the man’s decision while pretending that she didn’t feel like she’d lost a piece of herself in the process. He’d decided the course of their relationship, and as much as Sakura wanted something else, she had to accept it.

Despite those thoughts, Sakura pulled up Kakashi’s contact information in her phone. At a glance, the photo could have been taken anywhere. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Sakura knew better. Her fingers had created the haphazard way that Kakashi’s hair fell, cascading toward his right eye. His headband was gone, somewhere under his couch if she remembered the day correctly, and his mask rested lower on his face than usual. Kakashi’s cheeks held a healthy shade of crimson under the fabric, but his eyes were bright and open, staring at the camera, at Sakura, with a tenderness she didn’t deserve.

Sakura closed the door on the pain that swelled in her chest and swiped away from Kakashi’s photograph. She dialed Ino’s number instead.

-------------------------------------------

Two hours later, the party was in full swing with children stampeding through the house and adults mingling on the edges of the room. Most of Sakura’s friends made it to the event despite their busy schedules. Naruto and Hinata had come early enough to hang streamers, set out party favors, and help cook the finger foods that Sakura was serving. At least, Hinata and one of Naruto’s clones had. The real Naruto had taken Boruto and Sarada outside to play hide and seek, judging from the sounds that floated in through the open windows.

Sai and Ino arrived not long after, balloons and cake in hand. Inojin and Sai had joined the games in the backyard, along with Naruto’s clone now that Sakura no longer needed help, while the women completed the last few things that needed to be finished before the party. Somehow, by the time the other guests arrived, the living room and kitchen were fully decorated, all the food was finished, and nobody had lost their tempers.

After putting paper plates down on the long table that she’d set up in the living room, Sakura let everyone know it was time to eat. In short order, the kids were happily picking at the finger foods she’d offered while their parents ate at the dining room table or stood around the room chatting. Despite the noise and chaos around her, the tension that Sakura had been carrying in her chest loosened further. The day hadn’t been the disaster that she’d feared.

Sakura’s parents and colleagues were mingling with her shinobi friends, integrating the various aspects of her life the way that she’d done over the past few years. Sai and Ino were chatting with a doctor that she worked with at the hospital, while her father was discussing something with Temati that involved an excessive amount of hand gestures. The only thing missing from making the picture perfect day was Sasuke. The loss wasn’t as keen as it had once been, Sakura had made her life without him, but she felt the ache of Kakashi’s absence keenly.

Raised voices at the kids table drew Sakura from her thoughts. The personalities of the younger generation were interesting to watch. She kept a sharp eye on Sarada and Boruto. The pair had been around each other so much that they acted more like brother and sister than friends. They were currently arguing over the last blue juice box on the table. Sakura intervened by adding another six, two of each color, to the center. Boruto and Sarada separated with a huff, each clutching their prizes in small hands.

Sakura shook her head as she watched the display, recalling what Naruto and Sasuke had been like when they were genin. Though the children were years from that, she saw the same combative, competitive nature of their fathers. She hoped they would use it to hone their skills instead of growing bitter and angry at each other. Living in a time of peace meant that they would be older by the time they finished their shinobi training, assuming both of them went to the academy. The idea of anything else was unimaginable.

Catastrophe averted, Sakura returned to the kitchen for the cake. The sugar high would undoubtedly make the kids hyper, but she planned to let them run it off in the backyard. She was making her way back to the table with a knife when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Naruto called over the chaos of children cheering the cake’s arrival. Sakura flashed the blonde a grateful smile as she cut the first piece and plopped it onto a plate. She had her hands full without trying to keep up with someone who was late to the party. Naruto’s laughter carried to the dining room, but his words were lost in the babble of voices as Sakura filled the disposable plates with sugary confection.

Naruto stepped through the doorway a few seconds later, dragging a sheepish shadow behind him. Sakura’s heart missed several important beats when she raised her head. Kakashi offered an eye smile and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, clearly uncomfortable at her scrutiny. Naruto didn’t appear to notice as he pulled the man toward the center of the room.

“Late as usual,” Naruto teased, clapping Kakashi on the back. He reached for the present in the man’s hands. “Here, I’ll take that.”

Kakashi relinquished the package to Naruto who carried it toward the table already crowded with gifts. As Sakura met Kakashi’s gaze, she tried to think of something to say, but the words wouldn’t connect to her thoughts. It had been a month since she’d seen Kakashi, four weeks of waiting for him to admit that leaving her had been a mistake. Except, he hadn’t. He’d walked out of Sakura’s life and never looked back.

As her eyes swept over Kakashi, Sakura looked for any indication that the man noticed her loss as poignantly as she felt his. Had those lines always spidered away from the corners of his eyes? Had the bruise purple circles been so obvious beneath them? Did the tension in his shoulders suggest that he wanted things to be different, or did he wish that he wasn’t standing in the house where they’d—Sakura stopped that thought before it could color her cheeks. She tipped her head in a carefully deferential bow. “Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi’s hidden smile slid a fraction as he returned the gesture. “Uchiha-san.”

The formality between them made Sakura’s stomach ache, but she understood it. Inojin and Boruto made for a good distraction as they argued over a second piece of cake while Sarada looked on with ever watchful dark eyes. The last thing that Sakura needed to do was worry about the complicated feelings that were swirling in the middle of her chest.

“Excuse me,” Sakura murmured, slipping away from Kakashi. She ran a hand over Sarada’s hair and cut the cake into two smaller pieces for the boys before fists could settle the argument. She kept her attention on the kids for as long as she could. When Sakura couldn’t resist the gravitational pull that was Kakashi, she glanced up and found him gone. She caught a glimpse of his back on the opposite side of the room, deep in discussion with Hinata.

Sakura allowed herself one longing glance in the man’s direction, then turned back to the kitchen and her responsibilities.

-------------------------------------------------

As Kakashi watched over half a dozen kids careen around the living room on a sugar high, he wondered if he’d spent enough time at the party to escape without seeming rude. A splash of vibrant pink caught his eye as Sakura moved through the crowd. His chest ached as he watched her pull the strands away from her face. Several tendrils slipped free from the bun at the base of the woman’s neck to dance around her face. He concentrated on not thinking about the feel of them sliding over his fingers as he tipped her chin to the side to kiss her neck.

Their relationship was over, and had been for almost a month, but the proximity of Sakura made it difficult to remember why. Kakashi had avoided her since they broke things off, saving them both from longing for an impossible future. He knew that he’d made the right decision to walk away, but it was difficult to keep himself from wishing for something different. Kakashi had sacrificed so many things for Konoha over the years; he hadn’t anticipated his happiness being one of them.

Coming to Sarada’s party had been a private penance of sorts. Kakashi wanted to see Sakura, wanted to make sure that she was okay with the way that he’d left things. Of course, his feelings hadn’t changed during the intervening weeks, so it hurt to see her moving on with her life. Kakashi told himself that seeing Sakura at home would prevent him from doing something that he might regret. It wasn’t neutral ground after their previous encounter, but it was better than his apartment or her office, especially with so many people around.

As Kakashi watched Sakura float around the party, diffusing tantrums and catering to each guest, he knew that he’d made a mistake. Every movement reminded him of the way that her legs had wrapped around him as they stumbled into the wall. Kakashi noticed the empty space where the portrait of Sakura and Sasuke had hung until her shoulder knocked it loose in a moment of passion. Nearly a month later, Kakashi remembered every brush of Sakura’s hand.

Coughing, Kakashi took a drink and grimaced at the sticky sweetness of the liquid. He’d intentionally arrived late, but the desire to leave pulled him toward the door. He felt out of place among the parents and children, not to mention Sakura’s family. Shikamaru stood in one corner of the room, weighing Kakashi with a not so subtle stare. The man had noticed Kakashi’s distraction the past few weeks, though he hadn’t commented on it. Kakashi hadn’t volunteered any information, but it was impossible to tell how much the man had guessed.

“Okay. It’s time for presents,” Sakura called out. Her voice was drowned out by excited squeals from the kids. Kakashi pressed against the wall as the tiny bodies rushed past him. The air left his lungs in a soft whoosh when Sakura’s fingers brushed his hip as she herded the children to the living room. The movement could have been the accidental bump of another adult avoiding the stampede, but that didn’t stop the electric jolt that shuddered through Kakashi. The subtle curl at the corner of Sakira’s lips told him it wasn’t a mistake.

Kakashi tightened his hand, then released the fist with a soft exhale as he followed the others. Sarada worked through her gifts at a prodigious rate, paper and ribbon flying through the air as she tore them open. A pile of toys and clothing grew on the table as Sakura reminded the girl to thank each person for their presents. A new dress with matching hair ribbon came from Ino and Sai, while Sarada received a make-believe doctor set from one of Sakura’s colleagues. She opened a stuffed fox from Naruto and Hinata, then reached for another present.

“Mama! Look!” Sarada brandished small, foam kunai and shuriken that were modeled and weighted to match the real thing, though designed for a child’s hand. “They’re from daddy!”

Sakura’s brow furrowed as she lifted the paper that the gift had been wrapped in, searching for the tag. Her frown deepened. “So they are,” she responded, watching her daughter heft the weapon in one hand.

Sarada pulled her arm back and tossed the kunai across the room. A stack of paper cups clattered to the kitchen floor as Sakura plucked the remainder of the items from the girl’s lap. “These are only for outside,” she admonished with a huff.

“Can we go play with them, please.” Sarada dragged out the last word in a pleading tone, hands clasped together in front of her.

Boruto bounced on the balls of his feet, eyeing the gift with intent. “Yeah, can we? We’ll be careful.”

Sakura sighed and looked down at the eager faces before relinquishing her hold. “Don’t throw them at each other, okay?” A chorus of agreement rang through the kids as they grabbed the weapons and darted for the door. Sakura’s voice trailed after them. “If anyone gets hurt, I’m taking them away.”

Awkward silence hung over the room as the noise of the children disappeared. Naruto and Sai offered to go supervise, following almost on the younger generations heels, probably to do more damage than the kids did. Sakura began cleaning up the paper and presents, and Ino moved to help her. Most of the other adults returned to conversation, but Kakashi watched Ino rest a consoling hand on Sakura’s shoulder. “It was nice of him to make sure she had a present,” the blond observed, folding several pieces of clothing that Sarada had opened. “I’m sorry that he couldn’t be here in person.”

Kakashi tried not to eavesdrop on the exchange, but he couldn’t help himself. Sakura’s shoulders rose in a shrug, quick and sharp as she inhaled. “He had a mission, and Sarada is still little. She probably doesn’t know that anything is strange about it.”

“Yeah,” Ino agreed, collecting empty cups and half filled plates from the table. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Not wanting to intrude on the conversation, Kakashi turned his attention back to the yard. Naruto had hung a target on one of the trees, and the kids were taking turns throwing weapons at the painted circle. Boruto and Sarada were squared up against each other, holding shuriken and presumably arguing over who got to take the next turn. As he watched, a silent presence appeared beside him. Kakashi didn’t turn.

After a moment, Shikamaru cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you here today, Hokage-sama.”

“No,” Kakashi asked, keeping his voice light and amused. He rested one shoulder against the wall and tore his eyes away from the backyard. “Why not?”

“This isn’t your usual scene.” Shikamaru turned to rest his back against the wall on the opposite side of the window. His dark eyes roved over the room while taking in Kakashi’s expression. “I figured you’d skip it, if you could.”

Kakashi slid his hands into his pockets, continuing to feign disinterest. “I assume there’s a point to this?”

Shikamaru chuckled, his lips pulling into a half smile. “You were never one for small talk.”

Rather than acknowledging the comment, Kakashi dipped his head. Shikamaru’s gaze slid across the room to the kitchen. Sakura stood on the opposite side of the counter, wiping it with a rag. “It was nice of Sasuke to make sure his daughter had a present on her birthday,” Shikamaru ventured, voice pitched low.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Kakashi allowed himself one second to take in the knowing expression on Shikamaru’s face before tearing his gaze away. “Sarada will remember that he cared.”

Shikamaru sighed and raised his drink to his lips, taking a long pull as if the silence would work on Kakashi. It didn’t, so the younger man continued. “Look, I know it’s not my place to say this, but for the record, I think you’re a much better—”

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Kakashi interrupted with an eye smile, convinced that the next words from Shikmaru’s mouth was something he didn’t want to hear, couldn’t stand to have acknowledged by someone else. He couldn’t go down that path a second time.

"And sometimes, being stubborn hurts everyone—," Shikamaru offered.

Kakashi raised a hand, cutting off the rest of the words. "You're right. It isn't your place."

Shikamaru dipped his head with a sigh, mouth pulling into a frown. Kakashi knew that the man had more to say on this subject, but now wasn’t the time. In fact, he wasn’t sure that he would ever be ready to hear the rest of Shikamaru’s advice. Some thoughts were best kept hidden.

Still, Shikamaru’s observation stirred a battered vestige of hope in the center of Kakashi’s chest, and he couldn’t put himself through that again. He squashed the feeling down as Temari cast her husband a pointed look. With a mumbled apology, the Nara departed toward the back yard with his wife to supervise the kids.

Kakashi glanced at the rapidly approaching dusk and decided that he’d stayed far longer than he should have. It was more than enough to put in an appearance and prove to himself that he could be around Sakura without doing something that he would regret. Pushing away from the wall, he carried his mostly full drink back to the kitchen.

As Kakashi approached the sink to dump the offending blue liquid into the basin, something brushed across his back. Electricity jolted through his body again at the familiar form beside him. The armor that Kakashi had consciously worn to the party only partially absorbed the shock of Sakura’s fingers on him. “You didn’t like your drink,” the woman asked, voice deceptively light.

Hand hovering over the sink, Kakashi turned and swept his eyes across the room before settling on Sakura’s face. “I’m pretty sure it’s ninety-five percent sugar,” he countered, reaching for the lazy, unaffected drawl he’d used so often in the past to distance himself from situations that he didn’t want to be in.

Sakura smiled, and some of the exhaustion disappeared from her eyes. Kakashi’s heart did an uncomfortable throb against his ribs before settling into a normal pattern, albeit faster than he liked. She moved closer, dropping her voice to a playful lilt that made the room spin. "Mixed with a bit of vodka, these are the best drinks you've ever had."

For several seconds, Kakashi didn't speak. The words were so far from what he’d expected that it took his mind time to catch up with them. When it did, he laughed. "I always thought you were the responsible one. Don’t ruin my pristine image of you."

"You never thought that,” Sakura laughed, placing her hand over Kakashi’s to keep him from pouring out the drink.

The plastic cup bobbled in Kakashi’s grip when Sakura touched him. His breath caught as she looked up at him through a curtain of pink hair. Kakashi remembered tucking those same strands behind her ears dozens of times; he remembered his lips trailing down the ivory column of her neck. His body twitched with the memory, and heat rushed into his cheeks. Instead of pulling away, he managed a weak laugh. “Are you suggesting I spike the drinks at your daughter’s party?”

“I’m suggesting you stay after, and I’ll spike them.” Sakura’s voice dropped to a whisper that made Kakashi’s face warm. He couldn’t think beyond the immediate need to escape before he did something that he’d regret. Everything inside of him screamed that this was a bad idea, the thing he’d wanted to avoid all along.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the room, checking for unwanted stares before turning back. “Please?”

It had always been a struggle to deny Sakura, that was what had got Kakashi into this mess in the first place. He blew out a breath and set his drink beside the sink. He watched the back doors open, spilling kids and parents back into the living room. No one so much as looked in their direction, attending to their own families. “I can’t do that,” Kakashi breathed.

“We’re still friends, right?” Sakura’s voice reached a pained quality that made Kakashi sick to his stomach. “There’s nothing wrong with two friends hanging out together. It’s been a long day, and I could use some adult company.”

Kakashi jutted his chin toward the living room where at least a dozen men and women stood. “You have a lot of choices for that.”

“But, you’re the one I want.” Sakura reached past Kakashi for the damp rag that she’d been using to wipe the counter as she spoke, disguising her words in the movement.

Kakashi didn’t let the choice of phrasing affect him too deeply. Sakura meant that she wanted him to stay and talk, nothing else. He would have known if she’d ended things with Sasuke, and she knew that he couldn’t be with her unless that happened. There was nothing wrong with them spending time together, but that could change in a heartbeat. How well he knew that.

Before Kakashi could come up with a coherent answer, Sakura turned away and walked back toward the living room. Sarada stood amongst her peers, dirt smudging one cheek and cake evident at the corners of her mouth. Sakura set about wiping the girl’s face and hands with an abundance of complaining and whining from her daughter. He watched the pair without moving from the kitchen. It felt like time stopped, balancing on the precipice of his decision.

The arrival of dusk acted like an unspoken signal for the end of the party. Parents began gathering up their children and saying their goodbyes. Kakashi slid into the background of the noise, marveling at the ease with which Sakura moved through the different circles of her life, making everyone feel welcome. Clusters of three and four people left the party until only Naruto’s family and Kakashi remained. Sarada and Boruto were arguing over something on the television while Hinata and Naruto gathered up the boy’s belongings, which somehow had been scattered all across the room.

“Can we help you with anything before we go,” Hinata asked, voice soft and gentle as always. Kakashi felt a smile tug at his lips, thankful that Naruto had found someone that suited him so well. The realization soured when he looked back at Sakura. Did she wish that she had the same? Did she notice the difference?

As Kakashi helped the three take down decorations and clean up the clutter after the party, he wondered what the pinkette thought of them. Not of Naruto and Hinata as a couple, because he already knew that she approved of the pairing a million times over. No, Kakashi wondered if she watched the way they worked as a team to wrangle their son, to be a family, even when Naruto was taking missions left and right in preparation to become Hokage. The blonde never shunned his family the way Sasuke did. He chose his missions with care and stayed with them whenever possible. Sasuke prefered missions outside of Konoha, jumping at every opportunity to leave the village—

“Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto’s voice broke through Kakashi’s thoughts and he realized that the man had addressed him at least once already without answer. He tipped his head to the side and Naruto flashed a grin, an easy mixture of Kushina and Minato that made Kakashi’s heart ache. “I was just wondering if you wanted to walk home with us.”

Boruto stared up at Kakashi with the curious blue eyes and faintly whiskered cheeks of his father, studying Kakashi with a keenness that Naruto never had. Kakashi shook his head. “Thank you, but I promised Sakura that I’d help her with a couple of things after the party.”

“I can do that.” Naruto offered with a shrug. “You’ve been working all day.”

Hinata laid a hand on Naruto, fingers curling around the muscle in his forearm. “You should let him keep his promises,” she murmured. Kakashi had the dizzying realization that Hinata knew or suspected the reason that he was staying later than everyone else. The woman bowed her head toward him. “It was a pleasure to see you, Hokage-sama.”

The well trained part of Kakashi’s mind responded with proper pleasantries, but Hinata’s defense left him stunned. Shikamaru and Hinata both suspected about his relationship with Sakura. How many others had?

Kakashi had always taken for granted that he and Sakura had been careful. He hadn’t shown any favoritism toward her since things changed between them. At least, he didn’t think he had. Could the two conversations have been coincidental? Shikamaru’s words were too pointed to be mistaken, but surely no one else.

Kakashi navigated the rest of his salutations automatically while his mind reeled from the knowledge that he might not be as clever as he thought. Hinata finally managed to usher Naruto and Boruto toward the door. As it closed behind them, Kakashi realized he was well and truly alone with Sakura and Sarada, for better or worse.

The girl sat on the floor in the living room, sorting through the pile of toys and gifts that she’d received. “Alright, time to get all of this stuff up to your room and put it away.” Sakura ruffled Sarada’s dark hair. “It’s almost bedtime.”

Sarada started to make a whining noise, but a sharp glance from Sakura silenced it. “I only have two hands,” the girl tried instead, holding the stuffed fox in one and a foam kunai in the other.

“I can help.” Kakashi pushed himself forward to gather toys and clothes from the floor. “I only have two hands too, but they’re quite a bit bigger than yours.”

“Lemme see,” Sarada demanded, tossing her treasures aside like garbage. Both of her small hands grabbed one of Kakashi’s, then she frowned and poked at the center of his palm. “Take this off.”

Sakura appeared in the doorway, and made a scolding sound under her breath. “Those are his gloves, Sarada-chan. You can’t just demand—”

Waving one hand to silence the chastisement, Kakashi removed the fingerless gloves that he wore almost constantly. Sarada frowned at the scraps of fabric for a long moment, then gripped Kakashi’s hand between hers. She pressed her small palm against his then giggled. “It’s warm,” she observed. Then, to Kakashi’s horror, she pulled his hand close and rested her cheek against it instead.

Laughing nervously, Kakashi pulled away. “Yeah, the gloves keep them warm.”

“Why do you wear them?” Sarada concentrated on each word, clearly trying to sort something out in her head before she spoke.

Sakura swooped in, resting her fingers on Sarada’s head and gently turning her. “Come on, Kakashi didn’t come to give you an explanation for everything. I’ll race you to your room.”

Sarada’s squeal of delight filled the room as she sped toward the stairs with Sakura just behind her. Kakashi sighed and watched the pair go, wondering what he’d gotten himself into, again.

#Dimi Writes #My Writing #I'll be the Moon Sequel #Kakashi/Sakura #KakaSaku #TW: Cheating #TW: Complicated relationships #This story is an unabashed disaster and I apologize for nothing

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antipodeanpineapplelump · 3 years

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Dear Starshot, I recently saw your latest artwork for #Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura and I am DYING to learn more about this AU. If you're comfortable sharing, is there anything you can disclose about it?? Is this related to the ItaShi Indiana Jones AU you mentioned before?!!?!?!?!!

Hi Birk, thank you so much for dropping by with this ask! Are you really voluntarily asking me to talk about my current obsession and fanfic baby though? Because I warn you, you may live to regret that!!!

"Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura" is now the official title of my ItaShi Indiana Jones AU. I realise it’s been over a year since I first mentioned it, and it’s still a WIP! Pretty sure that says absolutely nothing good about the speed of my writing, but a lot about how busy my life outside of fandom is. Anyhow, it’s definitely one of those AUs that’s got away on me. I was planning one story initially, but now it’s kind of turned into three (plus a cracky oneshot), and this is just the first.

I’ve planned nine chapters total so far, but the bane of my life is currently number four. It’s sitting at 16,000 words and counting. Succinct writing? I’ve certainly never heard of it… So anyway, I kind of hit a wall there and decided to take a little break to come back with fresh eyes. That’s how I ended up working on the art instead. But I’d say I’m probably about halfway through the first draft (47,000-ish words).

I recently shared the opening scene and my draft cover artwork here. Ummm… what else can I tell you? Madara is the main bad guy, and he’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Shisui is an agent of disaster and chaos. Itachi is really… not. So their initial interactions go about as well as you could expect.

All the main characters have extensive back stories. I’m pretty sure you’re already familiar with my Machiavellian worldbuilding tendencies from reading Red Dawn, so it goes without saying I have just as many notes and plans, and as much fleshed out worldbuilding for this story too. And it will take a long time for all of that to be revealed! But the overarching theme is probably found family, which is different to anything I’ve done before.

At this risk of revealing too much, or boring you to tears, I’ll finish with another sneak peek, this time from Itachi’s POV:

When Itachi wakes, there’s nothing to suggest his day is going to be anything but routine.

He gets up at dawn as per usual, eating breakfast at the dining table alone, legs tucked beneath him on a comfortable zabuton. The solitude at this hour of day is something he prefers. It’s the only time the family home is quiet anymore—lacking the cold disapproval of his father’s increasingly judgemental lectures, the anger of his younger brother’s rebellion, or the resigned acquiescence of his mother.

By now, Fugaku should have left for work, and it’s still too early for Sasuke to be awake, given how late he’s been staying out at night. Either to irritate their father, or just avoid him entirely, he’s taken to frequenting the clubs and bars in Osaka. Mostly, he comes home. Some nights, he doesn’t.

More often than not, even when he is home his door is closed, the thumping bass line of some song or another seeping out from beneath it. Likely because he knows this angers their father even more than the leather jackets and spiked punk-rock hair style he now sports.

Part of Itachi has been glad to discover his brother possesses more of a spine than he ever has. But at the same time, Sasuke’s rejection of every last one of their father’s rules has only brought more unwanted scrutiny to Itachi’s far more minor transgressions. It’s as though, having decided his younger child is a lost cause, Fugaku now wants to be absolutely certain his eldest son and heir to the Uchiha family fortune is beyond reproach. To smother him with expectations until he emerges, a diamond from beneath the pressure.

But unbeknownst to Fugaku, Itachi has one flaw he can’t change. And it means that, no matter what, he’ll always be a failure in his father’s eyes.

Sighing, he swallows a mouthful of rice and fish, washing it down with the sweetened barley tea he favours. Pulling this month’s edition of Modern Archaeology across the table, he inspects its glossy cover and promptly chokes on his drink.

The face that smiles up from the page stokes a knot of hot irritation in his gut. Furiously, he skips to the article, skim-reading the text, despite the fact he knows it will only annoy him further.

"An up-and-coming star in the field of archaeology, particularly specialising in South-American cultures, Shisui Uchiha is an increasingly well-known fixture of the San Diego research scene. Curiously for someone so entrenched in the study of history, he is famously reticent when it comes to his own. ‘I did spend my early years in Japan,’ he confirms when pressed. ‘But I haven’t been back in a long time. The United States is my home now.’ Asked about his connection to the famous Uchiha family, he merely winks enigmatically. ‘Never heard of them,’ he says, before asking if we’d like a one-on-one tour of the dig site.

Equally at home in dusty ruins as surfing the palm-lined SoCal beaches, or scaling the cliffs of his native Joshua Tree National Park, he nonetheless shines in group settings too. At the party we attend that evening, to celebrate the opening of a new Aztec exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City, he easily charms the crowd, finishing the night with at least half a dozen new admirers. It’s not hard to see why they like him. A conversation with Shisui is exercise in passion and obscure historical knowledge. Even so, much like the dig sites he frequents, it’s hard to say just how much of what he presents to the world runs more than surface-deep.

His motto in life? ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ Shisui says with a charismatic smile. Where did he learn it? Chuckling, he brushes us off. ‘The school of hard knocks.’

Love him or hate him, one thing is certain—we haven’t seen the last of Shisui Uchiha’s brand of archaeology.”

Hate him, Itachi thinks, sipping his tea viciously enough to scald his tongue and immediately regretting it. Definitely hate. Hate how he’s reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and doesn’t seem to take a single thing seriously. Hate that it looks like he’s never had to work hard for anything a day in his life—people only too happy to hand him whatever he wants on a silver platter, charmed by a pretty smile. Hate the fact that, despite their shared family name, he’s free to do whatever he likes. Hate the way people flock to him, falling into his orbit—and by all accounts, bed—like it’s somehow inevitable. And hate, most of all, that there’s a small part of Itachi which understands why.

Because hate or love him—and it’s definitely hate—there’s no denying that Shisui Uchiha is, objectively, a very attractive man.

Coming back to his senses and realising he’s been leaning over the magazine, frowning so hard his forehead hurts, Itachi straightens, closing his eyes and massaging the knot of tension out from between his eyebrows.

“Itachi—”

The tension sinks in even deeper. He opens his eyes. “Father.”

Fugaku takes in magazine, then his son, and Itachi really hopes his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. It’s stupid, but merely knowing he feels the way he does about the man on the page makes him fear being caught. As though his father might somehow divine his deepest darkest secret, just by looking. Truthfully, Itachi sometimes wonders if he might not already know, or at least suspect. But if he does, it’s clearly a truth he’s chosen not to acknowledge.

“I take it you’re prepared for our meeting this evening?” Fugaku asks, grim as ever.

Attempting a composed sip of his tea, Itachi nods. “Yes. Of course.”

Mouth a hard, unyielding line, Fugaku makes some indiscernible noise of disapproval, sweeping an appraising glance over Itachi. “Well, I suppose it’s too much to hope that anything can be done about your hair between then and now. But they’re a modern family. New money. Perhaps it won’t matter so much.”

Fingers tightening into the flesh of his thigh, Itachi has to remind himself to breathe. “I will do my best to make a good impression,” he says, inclining his head towards his father, penitence for his innumerable shortcomings—not least of all the choice to grow his hair out. It’s a small act of rebellion compared to Sasuke’s effort, but one his father seems determined to curtail as promptly as possible.

Poker face easing ever so slightly, Fugaku’s brows trend downwards, though their slant is still severe. “I know. You are my son, after all. And it is high time you were married with a family of your own. Perhaps then you will see the value in giving up these frivolous academic pursuits, and taking your rightful place at the head of the family business.”

He might as well build a box and stuff Itachi into it. Mold him to fit his own vision of the future. But Itachi has long since learnt that what he wishes he could have from life, and what he can have, are two very different things. So, just like his infrequent clandestine trips to the less desirable areas of Osaka’s nightlife, this too, he realises he will have to sacrifice. Duty before self.

“Yes Father, I’m certain you’re right,” he says, bowing once more as Fugaku leaves for work, closing the front door behind him with a click that reeks of finality.

As his footsteps crunch away on the gravel path outside, Itachi can’t help clenching his fists, until long after his knuckles turn white.

Theoretically, it’s a good match. From a family of good standing, his potential bride is quiet and well spoken—the perfect future housewife and mother. Their marriage would kill two birds with one stone, giving her father the son he never had, and Itachi—and therefore by extension Fugaku—control of their biggest competitor’s business.

All it requires is for Itachi spend the rest of his life pretending to be something he’s not.

The weight of it burns tight in his throat, threatening to break free on a rising tide of bile. He longs to cast off his gilded shackles, take a leaf from Sasuke’s book and do something completely crazy.

With a sigh, he rises from the table, collecting his dishes and depositing them circumspectly into the sink. Another day of work awaits.

#Shisui Uchiha and the Lost Treasure of Asura #birkastan2018 #asks #my writing #WIP #sorry for talking so much #I'm sure I've mentioned it before #but I'm just an enormous nerd #who loves talking about my nerdy interests #thank you for this ask!

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