Naruto 1. Humanity, Paranoia and Bingo Books

_**Disclaimer:**__ Here I go, I don't own Naruto or its characters, I am just bastardising them for my own sick pleasure and hopefully yours too. _

_**AN:**__ This is a sort of follow on from my oneshot Deadly Persistence and some events may be referenced/expanded…I would suggest but not insist you read that first! This is Kakashi-centric and is set sometime after Shippuden, it will obviously be ignoring certain events in the manga. At some point there will probably be some pairings, probably KakaSaku but it won't be a lovey dovey fic…I fully intend to make this Kakashi a bit of an arsehole._

_This will contain (dun dun duuuuun!!) violence, ninja-potty-mouth, horrific abuse of the English language, badly written smut, my obnoxious sense of humour and the mistreatment of both my poor patronising OC and some canon characters. Subsequently this is going to be rated __**M**__ for "if you're too young- don't read it __**M**__other truckers" (or at least don't tell your parents) Please enjoy!_

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**Chapter One: Humanity, Paranoia and Bingo books**

The waiting room completely conformed to the generic blueprint that made it just that, a waiting room. Even the paintwork on the walls seemed to reflect a pre-ordained philosophy in soul-sucking décor; the lower portion of the walls were a cool shade of 'eggshell blue' until they met with the pine picture rail which dissected the room into halves at about waist height. It was a frustrating colour because 'eggshell' wasn't completely accurate. It was a colour that hovered on the borders of being slightly too green to be blue and slightly too blue to be green…yet it was too pastel to be truly considered turquoise and too flat to be called Aqua. The colour had no name – but the title of _eggshell_ seemed to be about the closest match and at least seemed to invoke some of the pseudo-pretentious aura the interior designer had obviously been going for. This 'calming' expanse of eggshell blue…or green, was quite possibly the most fascinating thing in the room because everything else was a surgical, clinical, _boring_ white. The shelves were white, the light fittings were white, the plastic plants had oddly been spray painted white and stood erect, bizarre and ghostly in white porcelain pots. Even the horrible faux leather chairs were white…_and squeaky_ Kakashi thought solemnly as he tried for the umpteenth time to readjust himself on the slightly too small seat without incurring the accompaniment of an orchestra of embarrassing groans and shrill whines which echoed around the white space and sounded like something else entirely. He failed and the pretty pale-skinned receptionist who was perched behind her white desk on the far side of the white and eggshell room shot him a disgusted look that would have withered a lesser man before scooting her white framed glasses back up her nose with a well manicured fingernail.

To avoid any further embarrassment Kakashi resigned himself to remaining marble statue still and kept himself busy by trying to find hidden images in the ugly pattern of the white artex ceiling. This proved harder than he had realised when all that seemed to manifest from the swirling plaster grooves were other white things…clouds, snow covered mountains, white fluffy bunnies…it really was a lost cause.

Even the small pile of magazines, which had looked so promising with their multicoloured covers, had failed to give him any relief from the mind numbing boredom, the tatty copies of "Kunoichi Weekly" were at least eight months out of date and looked at him mockingly from their place on the white Perspex coffee table.

Taking a quick glance at the silent white wall clock he noticed with irritation that he had been kept waiting a full twenty-three minutes. Kakashi hated being kept waiting. He wondered briefly if his white, silvery hair and pale complexion had caused him to blend seamlessly into the scenery rendering him invisible…but then he realised that, no…he would have just looked like a decapitated body sitting there in his regular jounin garb and black mask and he was pretty sure that a decapitated body would have drawn some attention.

_Twenty four minutes…_

Also with the damn noises the chair kept making, he doubted he could have been forgotten. Another disgusted glare was sent his way at the latest barrage of suspicious squeaks.

_Nope, definitely not forgotten. _

Maybe if he made a run for it it would take them another year to pin him down for another appointment…

A door opened with a gentle creak and a tall leggy woman with a sharply upturned nose strode out purposefully clutching a clipboard to her chest. Her long blonde hair was drawn back into a severe bun that sat high on her head and she wore a white (what a surprise) calf length doctor's coat which was hiding what promised to be a lithe shapely figure.

_On second thoughts…_

"Alright then, Hana," she called to the snooty receptionist, "I think that's everyone for today you can…" her eyes fell on Kakashi, "Oh err, and you are?" she said with a frown riffling through the notes pinned to her clipboard.

"Hatake Kakashi. I'm here for my two o'clock."

"Hatake-san, your appointment was _four_ hours ago…" she said her frown hardening into a scowl.

"Well you see I was helping an elderly women cross the street when she invited me to accompany her to her salsa class - she had recently lost her husband and it was a tradition of theirs to go once a month to the local dance hall and seeing as I have been looking to expand my list of hobbies I offered to be her chaperone and well…" the gaze directed at him hardened further "…anyway long story short: I'm here now. If I'm too late and you'd like to rearrange another appointment I could always…"

"No no Hatake-san, its quite alright, I can fit you in now."

"Really? Because…"

"This way Hatake-san if you would." She told him firmly before disappearing back through the door with a quick spin on her slightly heeled black boots.

With a dejected sigh Kakashi stood, wincing as the chair gave a last flatulent protest at his departure.

The office Kakashi found himself entering was thankfully mostly devoid of white, instead it was all warm earthy tones and soft edges, a large oak desk stood proud and polished against a panelled wall, its surface covered in files and folders of varying thickness. Bright primary coloured stationary holders jutted up through the mountainous paperwork like miniature skyscrapers and one of those kitsch novelty stress relievers perched on top of a large pile of stapled photocopies and Kakashi had to physically restrain himself from setting the row of small silver balls into clicking motion. Rows upon rows of medical textbooks were crammed onto buckling shelves and certificates hung in thin gild frames were dotted above the desk. The slatted windows allowed enough of the fading natural light in to make the softly lit room look almost tranquil and welcoming in its neutral organised chaos. Almost. The presence of the sharp-faced doctor looking at him expectantly from her brown leather swivel chair instantly diminished a good twenty percent of the calming ambience. Her intelligent blue eyes seemed to bore far too deeply into his one grey and he found himself fidgeting for the first time for at least two decades. This was exactly why he hated hospitals and dentists and all other establishments that employed a "white-décor" policy for waiting rooms and hired prissy little women with clear precise voices and quick perceptive eyes.

"Would you like to take a seat Hatake-san?" she said in that clear precise voice while searching for a specific set of files on her desk, her hands found what they were looking for quickly and she slipped the small stack of papers into her clipboard with an audible _click _andKakashi noticed a Polaroid picture of himself stapled to the top most sheet.

Looking around the small room he noticed the absence of the clichéd chaise lounge, instead a brown swivel chair that matched the doctors glared at him in a challenging manner. He lowered him self into it making sure to hold her gaze as he did so. It didn't squeak in protest and instead seemed to sigh in an almost welcoming manner. Much better.

"So, I suppose you know why you're here Hatake-san?" she said giving him a small polite smile. A doctors smile.

"Kakashi."

"Sorry?"

"Kakashi. 'Hatake-san' was my father."

"Alright then." She replied nodding once, a short sharp motion that reminded him of a bird. "Kakashi-san, I would like…"

"Just Kakashi." He interrupted with a placating hand wave "Honestly, if we are going to do this I'd rather drop the honorific if it's the same to you."

She let out a small nasal sigh, which Kakashi translated as a sign of annoyance and returned it with a fake happy little eye crease.

"Kakashi." She began once more "As you know you are…" the sound of shuffling paper filled the room "_Three_ years over due for your annual psychiatric evaluation…three? Wait that can't be right…"

"No no," Kakashi murmured with a dismissive head shake "I just wasn't around for my last few appointments. Other commitments you see."

"Dancing with old ladies, walking the road of life and rescuing kittens?" she asked clearly reading his patented responses from the small clipboard in front of her.

His stare tightened a little at that, just how much was on that file?

"No, missions: dancing with death, walking through blood and guts and rescuing myself from hideous torture."

"I see…Well, you're here now, and that's what matters." She said straightening in her seat and uncapped a blue plastic biro that she drummed against the clipboard to punctuate each syllable. "Well then Kakashi-sa…Kakashi, I am Ishihara Risa and I will be conducting your evaluation, everything discussed in this office is of course completely confidential. None of the information you provide during our time together will be repeated unless you become a missing-nin or a perceived danger to the village. Only an outline of my observations will be provided to the Hokage and depending on my report you will either be cleared for active duty or referred to another doctor for further analysis."

"You mean programming."

"Excuse me?"

"As in, if you find me to be without some of my more important faculties, I will be referred to a team dealing in 'rehabilitation' and sent off to be reprogrammed."

"You make it sound like you're a machine."

"We are aren't we?"

"Are we?" she asked, pen poised over the clipboard that was propped up on her crossed knee, it looked like her latest patient was going to jump right in at the deep end…

"Well the human brain is essentially just a fleshy machine sending electrical impulses to the rest of our body…every action, thought and desire…" he stared thoughtfully at he long slender legs for just a second "…Are just tiny little chemical reactions bursting inside our skulls. Beyond that I am a shinobi; we are all pieces of a larger machine…cogs in a doomsday clock. Tools. Weapons."

"Does that bother you?" she asked and Kakashi was pleased to notice the small blush colour the area around her collar.

"Why would it?"

"Because it strips you of your humanity."

"All shinobi are inhuman to some degree or at least pretty damn close."

"What makes you say that?"

"I am a shinobi first. Man second. I guess one role becomes easier than the other after a while…or rather the compartmentalising becomes harder and certain aspects take over." Kakashi said shifting slightly under the close scrutiny.

"How do you mean?"

"When you spend more time out of the village than within its walls, and _then_ when you spend most of _that_ time on your own it becomes hard to break certain patterns."

"Which are?"

"…You start to see human desires as mission objectives. You approach things in your personal life how you would in your working life, mapping out strategies, adhering to self imposed rules and timetables…you start to wonder if you ever really had a personal life in the first place."

"Are you aware you are referring to yourself in the second person."

"Maa… that's saner than referring to yourself in the third person though right?"

She gave him a small grin at that and Kakashi was struck by how much prettier she looked without the doctors mask on, her slightly to harsh features warming under the amused expression.

"I suppose it is…"

"Kakashi is a ninja, Kakashi kills things, Kakashi thinks this psyche eval' is pointless…" he continued waggling an eyebrow.

"Why pointless?"

"Because you will pass Kakashi anyway." He said with clear confidence and a crescent eye crease.

Her cheery expression faltered at that and her hands tightened almost imperceptivity on the clipboard.

"…Still Kakashi-san speaking about oneself in the second person denotes a certain level of introversion or an abstraction of events…a defence mechanism."

"Fine. _I_ wonder if _I_ have a personal life…no _I_ wonder sometimes, what a personal life is."

"Open and direct, that's very good. Under all these thinly veiled attempts to make me feel intimidated and uncomfortable you do seem willing to talk honestly, I am pleased."

"There's no point trying to cover any of this up. You'd see through it, even though I have always excelled in infiltration and deception I know you'd still see through it."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're Anbu, there's no way they would appoint me a civilian psychiatrist." he said dismissively.

A flicker of something passed across the doctors face, maybe annoyance mixed with respect and a tiny dash of shock but it was enough for Kakashi to confirm his suspicions.

"That's very observant," the doctor continued "…perhaps a little paranoid."

Kakashi snorted, a dry humourless sound that had meant to come out a lot less sardonic "Well find me a shinobi that isn't a little paranoid and I'll show you a toe-tag ready to be written. Paranoia keeps us alive."

"So you see a lack of humanity and acute paranoia as important traits for an accomplished ninja?"

"No, I see a lack of humanity and acute paranoia as _essential_ traits for an accomplished ninja."

"Care to give me an example? From your experience?"

"Sure."

* * *

A thick crimson stream bisects the photograph diagonally from left to right and again in the opposite direction creating a vibrant and vivid blood red 'X' across the page. The face that stares up at me from the bingo book is bordered by a thick expanse of white and mirrors the scene at my feet almost perfectly. The lifeless body of my target, staring up from the white purity of the snow covered ground, lies crumpled and disjointed. The savage gash across the jugular yawns open and still pumps arching red fluid onto the ground, which steams slightly in the cold night air, the throat muscles work up and down like pistons and the mouth, gaping open, tries to speak through the gargling mess. But the man is definitely dead, his brain just doesn't realise it yet. Soon enough the fountain of blood slows until it is just a seeping presence collecting around the base of the neck and spreading through the white blanket of snow. The spark of light in his eyes dulls to flat colour and suddenly the slack jawed man at my feet barely represents the one smirking at me from the photograph.

The dead never look like the living. It's something strange and intangible…the subtlest of differences even with all the blood and gore. Yes the light is gone and even in the darkest person that makes a difference. But it's also something else, possibly the absence of what we call a soul that transforms a person into an object, a target into a lump of meat waiting to be incinerated. The boundary between life and death is rice-paper thin, a tiny translucent membrane between chaos and complete eternal silence. It's something that as ninja, we are constantly wearing ever thinner.

I am aware that my hands are shaking, the adrenaline still pumping dark and heavy in my veins and I take a few moments to calm my breathing and regulate my heartbeat. Rolling my head across my shoulders and trying to shake out most of the nervous energy I notice for the first time just how cold it is, my muscles only now starting to uncoil and cool.

I place the pen and bingo book back into my pocket and pick up the shattered wolf mask, it grins uselessly up at me with deep empty eye sockets, the porcelain is smooth and cold against my exposed fingertips and I shove the pieces unceremoniously into the satchel strapped across my back and unsheathe the black handled katana secured under it. I cut away the targets head from his body with practiced precision although the process takes a little longer than normal due to the frigid weather, my hands are numb and find working the weapon difficult, and the blood, now congealed and sticky, makes the flesh harder to work through, it takes a few sharp tugs to separate from the body. I lift the surprisingly heavy lump of meat by the hair and push it down into a plastic lined compartment of the satchel, before securing it once again across my back and perform the familiar hand seals for a small katon jutsu that engulfs the body in white-hot flames. It feels nice to have the warmth of the fire heating my skin and I stare into the flickering light until I feel a familiar presence settle behind me. When I turn around a cat grins back, its painted lips pulled up into a smirk that I find befitting for the user. The figure drops nimbly from the branch he was perching on and lifts a hand to the worn ceramic contours of the mask before shoving it up over his head in a smooth practiced motion. A senbon is slipped with fluid ease between the man's teeth and he levels me with a clearly exasperated look.

"Fuck Hatake, it's cold!"

His hot breath billows up in white clouds to meet the smoke from the fire.

I sigh at the blatant obviousness of that statement and stalk over to stoke the dwindling flames of my target's cremation with my katana.

"So how many more?" he asks me.

"That's it." I say poking the embers again, watching with morbid curiosity as the ash mould of a human hand collapses in on itself.

"That's it?!"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you." He grumbles, his pout causing the senbon to shift into a vertical position so that it brushes against his chin.

Sighing I reach into my pocket and throw the bingo book at him, which he catches, of course, with ease. Everything about Genma is easy. He is easy conversation, easy with the women and has the easy grace of a cat so that everything he does seems fluid and feline. He is lazy, temperamental and a sucker for a warm lap. He is one of the most efficient members of Anbu and someone I find _easy_ to work with. Our skills complement each other and I am often impressed by how ruthlessly efficient he is under all the casual smirks and lewd conversations.

But he still isn't as good as me.

He thumbs through the pages and his noncommittal grunt while chucking the book back at me brings the smallest tug of a smile to the corners of my cloth covered lips.

"Something wrong Genma?" I ask with mock innocence.

"Twelve! The whole damn book!"

"Yes."

"I only had eight!"

"Yes."

"And you've finished a day ahead of schedule!"

"Yes"

The senbon makes a quick circuit along the thin line of his mouth while his rich brown eyes dart back and fourth between the dark remains of my target and myself. The grating noise of the slim piece of metal working across the tops of his teeth sounds almost as loud, in the deathly quiet of the forest, as the sound of the cogs turning in his head. I wait patiently for what I know is coming next.

"Huh, that means _we've_ finished a day ahead of schedule."

"Yes." I sigh again rubbing the back of my head tiredly.

"Which means we can find some nice warm beds to fill with nice warm girls and fill _them_ and ourselves with nice warm sake before filling them with our nice warm selves..."

"That was almost a sentence but no. No."

"Oh come on Hatake! You, me and some hot women! There's a town only six miles from here!"

And despite the fact that he's starting to sound like a petulant child instead of the Anbu captain he is - equal in rank to me, I can't help but slightly warm to his warm idea. My muscles _are_ tight, and the cold biting temperature of the snowy forest _does_ make girls and saké sound incredibly appealing…

"Also," he continues, "If we go back now we'll arrive early. When was the last time you actually got anywhere early let alone on time? If you're not careful it might become a habit and then people will expect punctuality on a regular basis…"

He had a point there. I hadn't expected the missing-nin to be such a push over, it seemed they were handing out S-ranks to everyone these days. The lack of challenge had left me feeling tightly wound and unsatisfied.

"I'll pay. Hotel, drinks and even girls if we have to." He said with a wide grin and a suggestive bob of the senbon.

…I can't argue with that.

The small town we find our selves in is barely a town. It is instead just one dust road with several drinking establishments, two dingy hotels and a couple of restaurants with obvious hygiene issues. This was something that always perplexed me, Konoha, the village hidden in leaves, could hardly be called a village, it was a sprawling bustling city with several districts both ninja and civilian with massive training grounds, parks, ornamental gardens, shrines and even a wide meandering river all of which was enclosed in a forty foot high stone wall. This _town_ we were in could be walked through in under ten minutes, literally if you blinked you'd miss it. It was an achingly inaccurate description I thought while cradling the lukewarm saké.

Genma however was far from pondering labels or the meaning of life and was instead cradling the busty redhead straddling his lap awkwardly in our small booth in the corner of the busy bar. He already had the telltale blush spreading across his cheeks and nose that indicated he was thoroughly inebriated and the brightly coloured plastic swizzle stick that had replaced his usual senbon spun in lazy circles tracing patterns across his companions almost exposed chest.

My companion for the evening sat demurely by my side, caramel eyes wide with outrage at her friend's lack of modesty. Turning to her with my usual happy smile I tried to put her at ease.

"Some people, no shame."

She giggled at that and rolled her eyes.

"You'll have to forgive Keiko-chan, she's a little exuberant." The girl says with a quiet but pleasant voice before looking down to play with a loose thread on her highly buttoned blouse.

"How do you two know each other?" I ask her politely, sifting through my limited encyclopaedia of expectable small talk topics.

"We work together"

"As?"

"Maids for one of the wealthy families in the area."

"Maids eh?" Genma pipes up with a lecherous grin

"Would you like to see my uniform sometime Genma-sama?" Keiko replies with a well-timed flick of her hair and a coy smile.

My companion turns back to me, intent on ignoring the sound of smacking lips coming from the two opposite us.

"… And you and your friend Genma? How do you know each other?"

"We also work together."

"Oh?" she asks with sudden interest "What do you do if you don't mind me asking?"

I think about this for a moment, noting that even in our plain civilian cloths Genma and I most certainly do not look like regular civilian men. We are too well muscled, too sure and smooth in our movements, even when hindered by alcohol.

"We are mercenaries." I lie smoothly, "working for the daimyo's son."

"That would explain all these muscles!" the busty redhead Keiko exclaims shoving her hands up Genma's top with a flirtatious giggle. Her more petite friend next to me slams her head onto the table in embarrassed despair.

Chuckling I wrap a hand around her shoulders and draw her upright and closer to me, she flinches instinctively at the invasion of her personal space but then relaxes and leans into my side. I pour her another drink that she doesn't touch.

"So where do you come from?" she asks again, still safely in the familiar territory of small talk 101.

"Eh?"

"You and your friend, your accent is quite strong."

"Oh, well we worked down south for many years together before travelling up here in search of work."

"South?" she asks with interest

"Fire country." I say anchoring my lies in truth.

"Oh! Fire country, I've heard its wonderful this time of year! So much warmer than all this horrible snow."

"Yes, but the girls aren't nearly as pretty." I say with a happy eye crease. She blushes scarlet, which I have always found an endearing quality in a women, and from the corner of my eye I see Genma mouth "_smooth_" accompanied with a heavy wink before his new best friend once again shoves her tongue down his throat.

"So," she coughs into her hand shyly "What's under the mask Kakashi? Is it a big secret or are you just being mysterious?"

"Heh, well in actual fact I am just so unbelievably handsome that I have to cover it up to avoid hoards of screaming women."

"Really?" she asks with a bright smile.

"No, in fact I am so hideously disfigured that I have to cover it up to avoid _causing _hoards of screaming women." I deadpan.

"You're making fun of me now!" she laughs behind her hand.

I reach forward and take hold of the hand covering her mouth and gently run my thumb over her palm in a reassuring gesture before lowering it back onto her lap.

"You shouldn't cover your mouth when you laugh. You have a lovely smile." I say holding her gaze.

She blushes again, even deeper than before and leans further into my side and surprises me with a rather forward question.

"Will you show me your face later?"

"Probably" I say back.

Later comes sooner than expected. Genma and the enthusiastic Keiko excuse themselves with a quick mumble of "see you back at the hotel" when their at-the-table fondling goes from slightly disturbing too highly inappropriate. He throws a wad of cash down on the sticky surface of the table, enough to cover our tab and then some, and disappears out of the bar with the redhead clinging onto his waist trying to keep her balance on silver heeled stilettos. I count the money on the table and notice there is enough for another bottle of saké.

"Keiko seems…nice." I murmur raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"She's not really that bad, I suppose you get used to it when you have to work with someone for so long."

"Fancy getting a bottle to go?" I say to the girl sitting beside me.

She seems to contemplate my offer for a moment before nodding the affirmative. I gesture to the barman and order his finest bottle to go and we leave, walking a slight distance apart.

The night air is bitterly cold compared to the stifling temperature of the busy bar and automatically the distance between us closes. She doesn't seem to notice when I steer her into a dark brick lined alleyway until I spin her round and push her forcefully against the wall. Everything about her body language tenses and the widening of her eyes is barely visible in the darkness but then I am drawing her legs up around my waist and she is gasping in surprise as one large palm pushes up her knee length skirt around her waist and grips the well toned curve of her ass. My fingers thread into lace and she gasps again as the rough icy surface of the brickwork grates against her exposed skin and she instinctively locks her ankles at the small of my back to keep from slipping. One small hand threads into my hair and another rests on against my cheek, her fingers curling over the edge of the mask and pulling it down in a quick frantic motion. Our mouths crash together and all of her shyness from before seems to dissolve. Her mouth is hot and welcoming in contrast with the elements and I thrust my tongue deeper seeking more, enjoying the whimpers and moans she makes as she struggles to keep up with the slick muscle working against her own. It's violent and primal and completely satisfying when our teeth clash or when she bites down slightly on my bottom lip. The sharp pulling sensation has me growling into her mouth as I fumble with her clothes, ripping the buttons from her blouse to work my hand into the folds of the fabric, all the while I clutch onto the neck of the saké bottle, using it as an anchor to keep me grounded. My hands cup at her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra and she shudders violently moaning into my kiss once more when I roll a cold-hardened nipple back and forth between my fingers. I can see the combination of the weather and my ministrations raising goose flesh along her bare arms. I repeat the action harder and she's arching up into me, pressing herself flush against my chest. My hand snakes behind her feeling my way to the clasp at the back of her lace bra and its then that I find what I'm looking for.

I draw back from her slightly, breaking contact with her mouth for the first time and she looks up at me with lust heavy eyes panting and squirming against my hips. But I just stare at her.

"You really are beautiful." She whispers and I suppose that the pale contours of my face must be eerily bright in the surrounding darkness.

She traces the shape of my jaw with one index finger drinking in my appearance and biting her kiss swollen bottom lip until she feels my hand work its way out from beneath her blouse to present her with the thin piece of metal. It glints brightly and mockingly in the space between our faces and her eyes are suddenly wide with comprehension

"No. Wait!"

But already I have stepped away from the wall and without the support of it behind her she falls heavily onto the slush covered ground, her legs releasing their strangle hold around my waist. There's a loud _'ouff' _as the air is forcibly expelled from her lungs and then the sound of smashing glass as I bring the saké bottle crashing down against the wall, the liquid contents pours out and I force the jagged edge still in my hands through her throat. It gouges a messy bloody path across her windpipe and the severed tendons snap up like elastic bands as they are cut. This happens so fast…too fast. Life – Death.

I pull up the fabric pooled around my neck back over my nose and run as fast as I can towards the hotel.

Part of me wonders if I have made a mistake.

That part of me is silenced almost immediately as I push down the image of the broken girl lying in the alleyway.

I hear the pleasured moans before I even reach the room and kick the door clean off its hinges. Keiko has her back to the door and whips her head around in shock at the deafening splintering and hastily tries to cover her breasts with an arm as I march towards her. She is naked save for the knee high stiletto-boots I saw her tottering around in earlier and Genma who is also naked laying between her spread legs, sits up with confused outrage set in the furrows of his brow.

"Hatake! What the fuck!"

But I pay him no mind as I grab her by the hair and pull her off him, he scrabbles with the sheets trying cover himself while pulling me off of her, but I'm too fast and too sure of myself. I throw her across the room and her forehead slams with echoing force into the far wall.

"Hatake!" he bellows forgetting the sheet and grabbing my arms and pulling them forcefully behind my head, I can hear the groan of muscle and bone as my shoulder threatens to dislocate and we fall to the floor in a writhing mess as he continues to restrain me.

Then suddenly the girls enraged scream tears through the room and she's rushing towards us, a small silver dagger clutched in her hand bearing down towards my throat. I hear Genma's exclamation of _"Shit!" _and feel his warm breath against my ear before he releases my arms, the smell of saké strong in our close proximity. She dives towards me, naked and furious and I pull off the ground awkwardly, thrusting my foot up into her chin as hard as I possibly can from my position on the floor, there is a loud crack as her neck snaps backwards and her naked body slumps on top of us pinning us to the floor.

For the longest moment there is only harsh panting and my own awkward awareness that I am sandwiched between the naked body of my partner and the naked body of a dead girl.

"How did you know." He asks me still breathless.

I pull the dagger out of her grip and fold it back into the shape of a chrome stiletto heel, it slots back into place neatly on her black boot. Then I reach into the boot itself and after much uncertain fumbling pull out a small book. I find my picture almost instantly and Genma's seconds later along with several other ninja we are both familiar with.

"How bout we get the fuck out of here?" he mumbles behind me.

"Excellent idea."

"Hatake?"

"Yeah?"

"I never thought I'd say this to someone who interrupted me getting laid…but thanks."

"No problem."

"Hatake?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you get off me now."

"Sure."

* * *

The pen that had been working furiously over the surface of the clipboard stopped its frantic motion and the doctor looked back up into the gaze of the silver haired man sitting in front of her. From his slouched and lazy posture it seemed almost impossible to reconcile the man before her with the brutal soldier from his story. At the same time Ishihara Risa had been working with shinobi for most of her life. Nothing really surprised her anymore.

"How old were you at the time of this incident Kakashi?"

"Twenty four."

"And this is something that demonstrates a lack of humanity and acute paranoia?"

"Yes. I killed them both with no emotion, I drove a broken bottle into a young girls throat without flinching. I didn't even give her time to think about putting up a fight and I did all of that because I was too paranoid to drink and relax in unknown territory."

"What would you have done if you had have been wrong about them."

"I am a genius. I knew I wasn't wrong."

"But you said yourself you wondered if you'd made a mistake."

"Everyone second guesses themselves but the evidence on that occasion seemed irrefutable. The dynamic between the girls was that of two people who had to work with each other, they would have never socialised together out of choice. Keiko drank only the first two of her drinks, the girl with me drank nothing at all and just mimed. She showed specific interest in certain lines of questioning but was almost too cautious for the conversation to seem natural. When I felt her hand it was rough and calloused, a maid would not have had hands that rough. Her natural reactions to the invasion of her body space were too quick and too precise, in the alleyway her body was far too lean and muscular to be anything but a kunoichi's and then I found a senbon hidden in her bra. I would have liked very much to have been wrong but I wasn't."

"Do you think she would have killed you?"

"Given the chance, of course and probably in my sleep with a big happy grin on my face."

"Do you realise that you didn't refer to the girl you were with by name once?"

"I can't remember it."

"But you remembered her team-mates name though didn't you?"

"So?"

"So, don't you think that is a sign of distancing yourself emotionally? That you have omitted her name from your recollection of the events because then she would be a _person_ not an enemy if you didn't? And that maybe a tiny part of you is unsure if she would have tried to harm you?"

Kakashi shifted in his seat his gaze hardening into an annoyed glare.

"Your point?" he snarled out angrily.

"Another coping mechanism. Proof that you feel guilty which in itself is proof that you are very much human." She said with the tiniest trace of a smirk "you maybe acutely paranoid but despite what you think you seem far from inhuman."

Kakashi opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a held up index finger signifying silence.

"That's about all we have time for today Kakashi, I will see you next week at two o'clock."

"Wait…I have to come back?" Kakashi said disbelievingly

"Of course, we will be having weekly sessions until I feel like I have built up a proper picture of your mental condition. Hokage's orders."

Ishihara Risa smiled to herself as the tall jounin stood with an almost childish stamp and made his way to the door swearing softly under his breath.

"and Kakashi-san?"

"Hn."

"Please don't be late."

* * *

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_**AN:**__ so what do you think so far? I am aware there is probably a complete massacring of tenses in there and probably some dyslexic (artistic!) mistakes but it's the best I could do without a beta! –updates maybe inconsistent as __**Porcelain Orchid**__ is my main focus but I will try and update on a semi-regular basis. There will probably only be about 4 chapters to this anyway and the next one will most probably be smutty. Thanks for reading: SlinkyM _


	2. Smoke and Mirrors

_AN: This chapter is dedicated to _**_thatreevesgirl_**_ who reviewed and gave me a friendly kick up the arse about this fic. I hope you enjoy! Thanks also to **ira springs** and **Briar Rose6** for your reviews, you're awesome! Slink. _

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**Chapter 2: Smoke and Mirrors**

Ishihara Risa thumbed the folder that sat on her lap absentmindedly as her patient continued his broken tirade. It was only quarter past twelve and she still had forty-five minutes to go before her lunch break. It was certainly unprofessional to be clock watching while counselling a patient but in reality this particular patient had been reiterating the same story for the last hour and a quarter…and every two-hour session before that for the last three months. She was starting to think that it might serve him better to just certify him. But in times of war you 'fixed' the broken, patched them up with fragile mental band-aids and shipped them back to the frontlines. It didn't matter if they were in so many pieces mentally that they couldn't be put back together…no it was her job to stick the jumbled jigsaw back into place as best she could and send them back until they either collapsed completely under the stress or didn't come back at all.

"…face down in the mud…and when I turned him over…gods t-the stench. His face was blue…and his mouth was full of dirt, it flowed out his nose like ink. Putrid ink slipping and sliming with maggots…they made him look like he was still alive you know? They moved all over him, he was heaving with them…he looked alive but…but like a demon…a m-mass of writhing, stinking…"

The young man in front of her was only twenty-two, still a chuunin, who had spent most of his service working as a teacher's assistant in the academy. He wasn't cut out for the undeniable brutality of war, more used to cleaning off chalkboards than cleaning up the pieces of his friends and countrymen.

"…I only knew it was him from the brown strips across his cheeks, he was a cousin to the Inuzuka's, at first I just thought it was blood, you know, but then he had a dog collar in his hands. I tried to get it out, but when people die they just go hard as stone. I couldn't move his fingers…"

War was war though and they needed every able bodied man they had. Maybe Hatake Kakashi had been right when he had said they were just tools. They certainly used their soldiers as such, weapons that chipped away at the enemy forces until they became too blunt or broke altogether, then they were discarded for shiny new ones.

If they were tools what did that make her? A blacksmith? An anvil? Or even just a hammer…another tool for making tools.

"…and then she tried to move the body, as soon as she touched it…it just split open…his stomach all bloated and purple just ripped open like a paper bag. Did you know intestines are yellow? When the bloods all congealed or drained the insides are the strangest colour. I thought it looked like a fucking fruit basket. God I feel sick…"

"Come on Daichi, focus, focus on my finger. Now follow its movement. Slowly left to right. Left to right. That's it. Now tell me about the hospital, after you got back across the border."

Slowly Daichi's eyes returned to their normal size and regained some focus, the gruesome slideshow running across his vision paused and his hands released their death-grip on the arms of the chair.

"You know Doctor Ishihara, I think this process is really helping. I've got much further today."

"The hospital Daichi." Risa said in a patient gentle voice.

The young man took a long steadying breath as his eyes followed the movement of his therapist's index finger.

"Well…when I woke up I was on the floor because they'd run out of beds…we were rammed in like sardines…so tight that I couldn't breathe…and…and…"

"Keep going Daichi you're doing very well."

"…A nurse, with pink hair came to tend to me. I remember her because of her unusual hair colour you know? But I can't remember her face it's like a blur…and she t-told me…th-that Kana had died…that she hadn't made it through the surgery. I remember how sorry she had sounded …but I didn't really understand till later what she had said. The person on the floor next to me sounded like a drill every time they breathed and it was distracting. I don't even know if it was a man or women they were so badly burned…then there was this explosion…and…"

The room erupted in a plume of grey smoke. The folder on Risa's lap clattered noisily onto the floor, Daichi's screams sounded like a siren in the small room as he knocked over the chair and threw himself towards the window, his expression one of pure terror. The reinforced glass met his face like a brick wall and there was a sickening thud as his nose crunched against its unyielding surface, the blood smeared down as he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

Once the smoke had dispersed Hatake Kakashi looked around the room with shock visible in his single grey eye as his gaze met first the slack bloodied face of a young man slumped in the corner and then the furious slit-eyed glare of his psychiatrist Ishihara Risa, who was still clutching a hand to her chest in an attempt to stop her heart leaping out of her ribcage.

"HATAKE-SAN! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE JUST DONE!?" she shrieked in rage.

Kakashi shrugged awkwardly and scratched the back of his head with a gloved hand.

"That man is suffering form acute post traumatic stress disorder! We were finally after three months, getting somewhere! You teleporting in here has probably put his recovery back months! I'd be surprised if he even wakes up!"

There was a soft rap on the door. "Risa?"

"WHAT IS IT!?"

The door opened and the girl Kakashi recognised as the snooty receptionist, Hana, stuck her bird-like neck around the door.

"Oh my gods!" she exclaimed looking from the unconscious boy to Kakashi to Risa and then back again "What happened here!"

Risa sighed long and hard, a nasal sound that Kakashi was quickly growing accustomed to. "Please get the medics and take Daichi to the infirmary and put him on a mild sedative when he wakes up."

Hana disappeared from sight and returned seconds later with a male intern in tow who lifted the limp body and cast an accusing look at the tall silver haired ninja who stood, shoulders slumped with hands in pockets looking at a fascinating crack in the ceiling.

After they left, Risa's nasal inhalation bought his attention back to her cool stare.

"Hatake-san, why on earth did you teleport into my office an hour and a half early?"

"Kakashi." He corrected with a tip of his head.

"Kakashi." She growled. "Why on earth did you…"

"I bought you lunch" he said holding up a bento box innocently.

"Hata…Kakashi, although I appreciate your thoughtfulness you can't just turn up for appointments whenever you feel like it, you especially can't just teleport into confidential sessions."

"…"

Risa stepped forward and took the bento box from the copy nin's grasp and sat it down on her cluttered desk.

"Just please wait in the waiting room until I call your name, that way…"

"I don't like the waiting room."

Risa's eyebrow twitched. "…and why is that?" she asked in a tight voice.

"It's too white. White walls, white furniture, white white white. I don't like it."

He sounded so much like an unreasonable child sometimes…his ability to slip between hot and cold, mature and childish… it fascinated her. Sliding elegantly into her leather swivel chair she motioned for Kakashi to do the same.

"And why don't you like the colour white."

"White is fine. I just don't like hospitals." He said as if that was the most obvious connection in the world.

"So do you want to start today by telling me why you don't like hospitals?"

His face scrunched up into an amused frown, one that made the mask bunch around his nose and mouth. "Who does like hospitals?"

"Kakashi, I can't continue with this evaluation if you constantly deflect subjects and evade questions. If you don't finish this course then I will have to fail you. You'll make this much easier on both of us if you open up a little."

Kakashi sat thoughtfully for a few moments, silently impressed with Risa's ability to cut through the crap. She was obviously trying the 'blunt' approach. The last two sessions he had danced around any of the probing questions she had tried to steer him towards, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle…and if Kakashi hated one thing…it was losing.

"I hate hospitals because I've spent a great deal of my time in them. A shinobi's place is on the battlefield, or protecting the village…not staring at white walls for months on end."

"It says in here," Risa said thumbing her way through his medical record "That you spent six weeks in the hospital when you were seven for exhaustion and depression, in fact several of your monitored convalescences have been noted as for depression…but that was your first extended stay am I correct?"

"I was a Chuunin and sent on a B-rank reconnaissance mission with two Jounin to Suna, I escaped. They didn't. I had to navigate my way through blistering deserts at the height of summer in enemy territory. Of course I was exhausted."

"Kakashi, this isn't a mission report." Risa chastised lightly. When they approached subjects he was uncomfortable with Kakashi had a habit of reverting to 'ninja mode', the walls went up, the shutters came down and for three weeks now Risa had been frustrated with his dreary monotone, the way his eyes drooped lazily as if they were discussing the weather.

"Both you're teammates died on that mission? That must have been difficult." she asked, sympathy colouring her words.

"I didn't know them very well."

"But still, that must have been an extremely overwhelming for a child of your age."

A seven-year-old child?

"I wasn't a child."

* * *

I sit crouched at the mouth of a cave, the light ahead flickered and spasmed as if calling me towards its warmth. Behind me the moonlight bathed sand dunes rolled into the never-ending horizon like a cool blue static sea. I was prepared for the dry arid heat of the desert, the way it caused my hair to stick to my face, and the way my clothing became damp and uncomfortable. My father, thankfully, had made me pack extra vests and shirts and one extra canteen much to my annoyance at the time. I was old enough to manage my own mission packs. I wasn't a child any more, I was a chuunin…but I wasn't prepared for just how low the temperature plummeted at night and as I shivered violently in my hiding place wearing four shirts and two pairs of trousers I felt deeply grateful that my gruff normally stoic father had insisted on the extra clothing. I was all too aware that I was small for my age. I looked perhaps five or six at the oldest, not the seven soon to turn eight I actually was. My ribs stood out clearly on my pale skin, my collarbone protruding enough for me to hook my fingers almost behind it. All my uniforms were specially made to fit my slight frame but even so, the sleeves went right past my knuckles and often ended up having thumb holes in the cuffs after a few weeks of use…something my father disapproved of as he sat by the fire darning them late into the night. It was a task he often grumbled about but never made me do myself even though I was more than capable of using a needle and thread.

Then there was my green chuunin flack jacket. It looked ludicrous and I hated wearing it but did so in an attempt to display the rank I'd rightfully earned and so many overlooked. Old ladies would coo and coddle…the newly graduated genin (who were all five years older than me at the least) would tease me mercilessly on the way to the mission room. A three-foot-six-inch boy looked quite simply ridiculous in full ninja regalia.

"Hey! look at the cute widdle jacket, who's a big scawy ninja!"

"_Oi, kid, it's not Halloween you know!"_

"_Heh, that kunai looks more like a katana on him!"_

None of them stopped to think that I could kill them as soon as look at them. It could be seen as a benefit…having friend and foe alike constantly underestimate you;it gave me an edge in battle…but to be honest, not being taking seriously annoyed the hell out of me.

"Hey kid, stop day dreaming."

"Don't call me that." I mutter to the larger body beside me.

"Yuuto should be back by now." Murmured the voice with concern.

"He has another seven minutes to make the rendezvous before we go in after him. I am sure he is fine."

"I don't know kid, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"You're not supposed to have _any_ feelings about it. Stick to the facts." I say dryly.

"Look here brat, I know you think you have something to prove but bare in mind that I outrank you. You are my subordinate, so less lip."

I advert my gaze and pull absentmindedly at a loose thread on my cuff and push my thumb through the newly unravelled hole to hide the warmth flooding my face.

I want to have camaraderie and banter with my teammates but because of my age it's seen as arrogance and petulance. There are some jokes they make that I simply do not understand, jokes about 'loose' women and drink…things a seven year old has no right knowing in the first place. I feel isolated from my peers and sidelined by my elders. I'm stuck somewhere in-between either struggling to keep up or failing to slow down.

I _would_ wish I were normal. But I don't really know what that means either.

My teammate's wristwatch flashes three times signalling that Yuuto's seven minutes are up and without exchanging anything more than a quick glance we move into the cave in perfect silence, my path mimicking his as we pick our way over small boulders and crevasses.

* * *

"…Kakashi?" Risa asked looking up from her notes to where the copy-nin was sat staring into the empty space behind her, a look of tight concentration tugging his eyebrows together.

"I can't remember his name." He murmured softly.

"You were young, it's natural for some details to become lost over time."

"He was my _teammate_ even if it was only for one mission. I shouldn't have forgotten something so important. That's the second time you've asked about the past and I've not been able to remember a name."

"Do you remember his face?"

"Yes." Kakashi nodded and the frown deepened. "Yes…I remember that."

* * *

My teammates face contorted into a sickened grimace as he looked up at what remained of Yuuto. He protectively stepped in front of me to shield me from the horrific sight but I pushed passed him anyway and stared in confusion at the mangled mess that had once been a man.

The coppery stench of butchered flesh filled the underground cave system and in the flickering torchlight the dark torrent of blood draining from Yuuto's corpse looked like a wide velvet ribbon. He hung by the ankles from a hook in the ceiling, his muscles exposed, a myriad of interlocking strings and tendons. It was as fascinating as it was horrifying. My teammate stepped forward to a pile of what looked like folded fabric and bent down to examine it closer before recoiling and stumbling backwards.

"Fuck." He chokes from the floor, his brown eyes glassy and wide.

"Fuck." He repeats before emptying his stomach next to him.

"What?" I ask stepping towards the non descript pile.

"Don't," he says shaking his head rapidly from side to side. "They flayed him alive…the sick bastards skinned him."

The words roll over me, abstract in meaning…incomprehensible.

"We should go, this was supposed to be a simple recon." He says quietly at the floor. "Yuuto. Gods Yuuto…what am I going to tell your wife?"

"We still have a mission to complete." I say flatly as my teammate struggles to his feet "We need evidence that Suna are buying black market weaponry otherwise Yuuto will have died a meaningless death."

This is something that scares me more than butchered corpses; I naively think I have experienced pain, that I understand the limits of the human body. The idea of a meaningless death holds much more weight with me in that moment. The immortal soul verses the corporeal body. It's no contest to a god-fearing seven-year-old.

It's at that moment that a kunai is driven through my teammates head. It enters through the base of his skull before exiting out of his right eye socket and imbeds itself deep into the uneven stone wall leaving a visible tail of blue chakra in its wake. I note the uniquely carved handle straight away, my sharp analytical mind often absorbing facts before feelings.

My teammates face is frozen in an enraged expression, his tanned leathery skin crinkling between his thick dark eyebrows. When I'd first met him I'd been amused by how much older he looked than he actually was, he had a workers skin, the skin of somebody who spent a great deal of time outside under the harsh sun. I could hear the words he had meant to say ringing in my head as the adrenaline shot through my system.

"_Kid, this man was our teammate, show some compassion."_

I run towards the imbedded Kunai and yank it out the wall, almost dislocating my shoulder with the effort.

"_Listen Brat, Yuuto was my friend, show some respect."_

The figure in the shadows moves and I drop into an awkward roll as another glowing kunai flies like a comet over my head. I spin on the balls of my feet and run back towards the entrance as fast as I can.

"_Don't give orders. You aren't in charge."_

Another kunai is launched and I feel it ruffle my hair as it sails straight through Yuuto's body, which swings from the impact like a sick chandelier.

"_Kakashi run, run faster."_

I don't even know what voices I am imagining now as my fist tightens around the handle of the strange weapon and I feel the metal hum and heat in response to my chakra. When the figure steps into my path I keep running straight towards him not really seeing, my sandals clattering against stone like a stampede of wild horses. The laughter raking his figure fills me with such intense anger. He's laughing because I am a child. He's laughing because he thinks my meaningless life will be snuffed out as easily as my dead teammates'.

The kunai burns with a brilliant white light and the shadows stretch out around me.

At the last possible second I tip my weight back and slide between his legs, my knees dragging painfully on the rough cold stone. I'm back on my feet before he can even turn around and thrust the kunai deep into his lower back. The flesh smells like cooked pork as the intensity of the chakra cauterises the skin and muscle, the blade meets resistance as it hits his spinal column but with a quick sideways thrust it's severed in two and he falls, fingers twitching. His body makes a wet sound as it slams against the ground and without looking back I run as fast as I possibly can into the cold night, the ethereal glow of the kunai lighting the way.

I feel so cold…but it isn't the subzero temperature of the desert that's making me feel that way. It's a heavy feeling at the pit of my stomach, a brick of ice wedged in my gut…

* * *

"The kunai was what is now a standard issue special weapon, a chakra amplifier. The seals were more erratic back then, the weapons often becoming over powered and leeching the user of chakra in seconds…By the time I arrived back at the gates I was running dangerously low. I'd run the whole way back to Konoha clutching that damn thing and pumping out enough chakra that a civilian with a good dog could track me. I had fully recovered after the first two weeks but the memories of what had happened to my teammates took longer to purge, I had nightmares for months. When my father returned from a long-haul mission six weeks after my return he bought me home."

Risa tapped her chin with the biro she had been nibbling at while he had told his story "And this is why you dislike hospitals?"

"It's the start of it." Kakashi said firmly.

"Surely it was a relief to come back to professional support, to people who wanted to help you?"

"I didn't want to talk about it. Without causing offence, I personally don't find talking about my _feelings_ with someone who has no idea what I have experienced to be all that helpful. I wanted my father and I wanted to be taken home without fuss. I wanted to get back to normal. Well normal for me at least. Bright white walls and strangers invading my personal space is not something I see as particularly normal."

"Brushing traumatic events under the carpet never helps, talking things through is often the only way to allow the mind to move on."

Kakashi shrugged indifferently.

"Did you feel abandoned by your father when he wasn't there for you?"

"He was a shinobi. It was his duty to serve his country. I understood that."

"But did you feel abandoned?"

"I felt conflicted. It had less to do with him and more to do with myself. I was growing increasingly frustrated that I had been so affected by what had happened. I didn't want cajoling into revealing my inner most thoughts. My fathers presence would have been all the reassurance I needed…instead I had cooing nurses treating me like every other seven-year-old they had ever met."

"And how did that differ from how your father dealt with you?"

"He'd never say anything…just put a hand on my shoulder. That action alone let me know he understood. He was a very compassionate man, in his own way."

"And every experience you've had of hospitals since has been unpleasant?"

"They give you too much time to think. Its boring and sterile and silent, the foods bland and the conversation blander. In our line of work you see so much death. Death that follows you in your dreams, in the faces of your mutual acquaintances. A hospital, so full of death itself, seems to magnify that. I don't find it peaceful or calming _or _relaxing, I find it crushing and claustrophobic."

"How did you feel…" Risa started but Kakashi's raised hand and happy eye curve stopped her mid sentence.

"Well Doc, that's my hour of show and tell done for today. See you next week. Enjoy your lunch."

And with that he vanished in a cloud of grey smoke.

* * *

Tsunade pushed a curtain of sweat matted blonde hair away from her face and continued to fan her self with the mission report Ishihara Risa had just handed to her.

"Aren't you going to read that?" the younger women asked from the other side of the desk, a small frown wrinkling her upturned nose.

"I already know what it's going to say Risa. You don't think he should be passed."

Risa cast a quick nervous glance at the other occupant in the room and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No I don't think he should. At least not yet."

"And why is that?" came the gruff baritone from the corner.

Risa took a deep cleansing breath before she relayed what she knew her two superiors most certainly did _not_ want to hear.

"He refuses to open up, he'll happily go into details about numerous traumatic events that would have a lesser shinobi hiding under the chair and does so as if he is reading off a particularly boring mission report. Then when I press close to things that would give me a good idea of what's going on in his head he clams up completely. Today I got onto the subject of his father and he disappeared on me!"

"Frustrating brat isn't he?" Tsunade said with a crooked smile.

"Ishihara, you are supposed to be a professional. Do your job." Came the stern reprimand.

"Ibiki-san, I may be a professional but I am not a magician. I can't magically make Hatake Kakashi all better just so you can ship him off on whatever you have planned for him!" Risa snapped.

The raised eyebrows of the Hokage had her biting her lip and dropping her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." She continued in a less challenging voice. "I know you need him cleared for duty…but I will not be signing him on until I get a real emotional response or until I know he can deal with trauma in a healthy adult way. It's not that he's compartmentalising - _that_ would be healthy - but rather that there are _no_ compartments! It's like he really believes he's just a weapon, and aside from a few bizarre personal quirks and a dry sense of humour that gives me some hope, _I_ almost believe it! I need to see the man not the shinobi."

Ibiki snorted lightly turning his scarred face from the window to look Risa directly in the eye.

"You may be looking a long time, Kakashi was a shinobi before he was even a man."

"If he can't learn to process pain properly then he stands a greater chance of snapping altogether one day and there will be no going back, is that what you want to happen to one of your 'most exemplary' soldiers? I wouldn't be a _professional_ if I let that happen."

"Very well Risa. How many more sessions do you think it will take?" Tsunade asked.

"I'd like three more at the least, I think I am starting to get a better read on him now or at least that's he wants me to think. He's very good at steering conversation his way, he uses his ego and intelligence to try and intimidate me and then throws it all in my face by then buying me a bento for lunch."

Ibiki chuckled, which sounded more like a gargling drain. "He should know that wouldn't work on an ANBU certified psychiatrist. He's underestimating you."

Risa smiled a little at that "Or he wants me to think he's underestimating me."

Tsunade's smooth voice cut in, "Risa, here's a little tip; he's touchy about his father, his first proper team under the fourth and the genin team he took on six years ago. I guarantee that if you can get passed the smoke and mirrors, these subjects _will_ get you your reaction…although I am not quite sure what that would be. That will be all."

* * *

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Kakashi perched comfortably in a large cherry blossom tree in the northern district of Konoha, its orderly lichen free branches providing a perfect seat from which to survey the world around him. The garden was quiet at night with only the low hum of insects disturbing the otherwise perfect silence. The moonlight bathed the small folded flowers around him in cool silver so that he sat hidden with an almost perfect camouflage. The northern district seemed at times almost abstract in its _perfect_ depiction of civilian suburbia. The lawns were neatly trimmed, the shrubbery beautifully manicured, the houses stood on sturdy foundations with large windows and elegantly carved shutters.

It seemed to have no place in a shinobi village. His _own_ apartment in the centre of Konoha was built atop a Laundromat and seemed to vibrate along with the chorus of washing machines. His front door was warped and peeling, his windows had no shutters and rusty hinges…_his_ plants were dead.

As Kakashi covertly watched his uptight psychiatrist through a curtain of flora and forna he had to agree that in her own way she was perfect.

…But in Kakashi's humble opinion perfection was over rated. Perfection was boring.

She sat at a desk similar to the one in her office, her home was decorated in the same neutral palette as her office and Kakashi raised an incredulous eyebrow at the sight. Wasn't she the one harping on about separating yourself from your work?

There was one significant difference however.

Instead of the usual attire of knee binding pencil skirts and high neck button up blouses she sat in baggy stained joggers that hung low on her narrow hips and a strappy vest top that had "I only fight if pillows are present" printed across it.

Kakashi chuckled lightly to himself when a certain chapter of his favourite orange book sprung to mind. Feeling slightly regretful that he hadn't bought it with him he snuggled deeper into the trees branches and got ready for a long night of observation.

It was clear to him that she lived alone, the décor was entirely feminine, there was enough clutter to show her home was lived without it looking messy, the dinner table was laid with one place setting and she left her laundry out on the kitchen work surface. Although her salary probably _was_ large enough for her to afford such a grand home he suspected it had been left to her by her family…after all what person of her age in their right mind would choose to live in such a pretentious, old, _perfect _part of Konoha?

He was well aware that perhaps some might refer to what he was doing as 'stalking' but really Kakashi liked to think of it as reconnaissance. This woman was trying to get into his head, and to stop that from happening Kakashi needed to get into hers. He was curious who would come out on top…how much would he need to give away to get that much needed green stamp on his record?

He needed to pass this evaluation, hell; the Hokage needed him to pass this evaluation!

Unfortunately the oh-so intelligent doctor had got it into her head that he was closed off to traumatic memories, that he "brushed them under the carpet." Well that showed clearly how much she knew, huh? What would she say if she found out he spent hours at the memorial stone reliving every nightmarish mission that had cost him a friend or loved one? That he spoke to the dead as if they were there right in front of him? That they talked back to him?!

No, she'd have him committed.

Kakashi looked at his situation like he did every situation, with scrutiny and calm analysis. This was a mission.

If Ishihara Risa wanted to meet the man then he'd give her the man…on his terms of course.

* * *

_AN: Hope that wasn't confusing..._


	3. Blue skies, Green eyes

_AN: thank you to _**_CelestialCircumference_**_, _**_Scarecrow of a Man_**_ and _**_shkh4ever_**_ for your reviews!__ Warning this is a Kakasaku chapter and…errr…I am not responsible for it! (ducks…)_

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**Chapter 3: Blue skies, Green eyes**

_Her eyes blinking hard against the invading sunlight._

_Her light, snorting groan against the mattress._

_She shifts closer and buries her face further into my shoulder. I blow warm air against her forehead and her nose wrinkles as if she's about to sneeze…which she does… into the duvet. _

_"__When you finish blowing your nose on my bedding you can wash it." I say in a sour voice._

_"__You should buy some drapes. Too much light." She murmurs sleepily and rolls over ignoring me completely. _

_"__Drapes are girly."_

_Then after a long pause in which I am almost convinced she's gone back to sleep, "…Curtains?" _

_"__Hmpf…'curtains' sound worse."_

_"__Blinds?" she says hopefully and I can tell she's trying to subdue a giggle._

_"__Blinds are an option. I'll think about it."_

_She laughs out loud, a sharp random exhalation that sounds more like a cross between a dog barking and a pig coughing. It brings a smile to my face when I remember the shy hand-stifled giggles she used to make around the boys to appear more ladylike. I prefer her like this, sweaty, mused hair, unattractive snorting and duvet drenching sneezes. _

_"__You are such a tight old man! The Hatake legacy, sitting on a massive fortune in a dingy apartment with no curtains, busted air conditioning and a jammed window." She shakes her head mournfully._

_"__Less of the 'old'. I prefer 'seasoned' or at a push 'vintage.'" _

_"__How about ancient or relic?" _

_"__I'll have you know that Thirty three is a good year…full of flavour and vigour…Look I'll show you." I spin her towards me and push her down into mattress and she squeals while uselessly swatting at my shoulders as I try to force my tongue down her throat._

_"__Kakashi, Ge'ourrfff me!"_

_"__hmm…no." I say licking her from her chin to the tip of her nose._

_"__Urgh!! That's disgusting! You have morning breath!" She struggles harder when I start tickling her ribs in an attempt to get her to open her mouth "Ah!…Oi, stop that…Kaka…stop…KAKASHI, STOP IT…" _

_"__Say 'please stop that my ever youthful sexy Sensei.'"_

_"__Kakashi! No…stop…ha...haha…If you don't stop tickling me I'll buy you lacy…errr…ha…PINK…and…haaha…PURPLE CAT CURTAINS!"_

_I stop instantly and stare at her in mock horror, she breathes heavily and holds my wrists firmly to stop my wandering hands, which know her body too well. _

_"__Cat curtains?"_

_"__Yes." She nods defiantly. "Lacy, pink and purple, velvet, cat curtains."_

_"__You are a cruel woman Haruno."_

_Typically, she beams at that, a wide bright smile which exposes her neat white teeth and makes her face transform from interesting to beautiful. Then she sees the clock and spews out a torrent of expletives that are definitely interesting but not particularly beautiful._

_"__I have to go. Gods, sooner or later people will figure this out due to that fact I'm always so late!" She says flapping her arms like a chicken while simultaneously tugging up her knickers. _

_"__Blame it on the weather."_

_"__Huh…hmmm, lets see… 'Sorry I am an hour and ten minutes late Tsunade-sama but a stray tornado crossed my path on this glorious summer day and…"_

_"__Well that's just ridiculous." I deadpan._

_"__You know we could just tell them and…"_

_"__No." I know I sound harsh. My voice instantly dissolves the warmth in the room and her shoulders tense up in the pseudo-frigidity. I sigh. "Sakura…"_

_"__I know, I know." She says but doesn't try to complete my sentence. We are silent while she pulls on the last of her clothes._

_"__When are you due back?" I ask finally._

_"__In six weeks, this rotation's only a quick one."_

_"__Do you need to borrow a good book?"_

_She snorts at that and points an accusatory finger at my wonky shelving, which is brimming with colourfully jacketed books. "I think I'd rather read Naruto's collection of one thousand and one ramen recipes that blind myself with that inane garbage." _

_I hold my hands up in defence. "Fine, just don't complain to me when you're bored out of your mind."_

_She adjusts her weapons pouches while grinning._

_"__Sakura?"_

_"__Huh?"_

_"__Do you…I…" my mind's blank, I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I know something is expected of me, I know something, anything__ is expected. "…I…"_

_"__Spit it out!" she says slipping on her sandals hurriedly and combing her hair through with her fingers._

_"__I…want you to eat your vegetables while you're away."_

_"__Yes Sensei…" She says with a wink and breezes out the door. _

*****

"…ashi? Kakashi?"

"Hmm?"

Risa frowned deeply at that man who had been gazing out of the window for the last three minutes.

"I asked about your students and your relationship with them."

"Oh…sorry I must have zoned out." He said sheepishly, rubbing a hand through coarse silver hair – a motion Risa could now easily identify as a deflective response. Patented "awkward hair-rub" seemed right up there with 'fake-happy eye smile' and 'lackadaisical shrug'.

"Kakashi, your students?"

"They're not my students anymore."

"Well then, your former students."

"What's to tell, my students are three of the most notorious young shinobi of their generation." He said with another loose-shouldered shrug.

"Well let's assume, as is the case, that I have been living under a rock for the last six months, what with the war keeping me busy in here. In fact lets just assume that I am wholly unaware of the comings and goings of anyone other than my patients."

"That seems a little counter productive." Kakashi said dryly.

"On the contrary, it keeps me objective; I don't listen to idle gossip or false speculation...Which also means I will only pass you on what you choose to disclose in these sessions and the content of your medical files. So please, for the last time, for your sake, cooperate."

"You really should get out more. It's not healthy to stay cooped up in here all day."

Risa sighed and shuffled her papers agitatedly to keep her hands busy lest she strangle the man reclining smugly in front of her.

"Kakashi…"

"Fine, Fine." Kakashi growled turning his gaze away from the window at last. "My first and only genin team consisted of Uchiha Sasuke; the last Uchiha and vengeful-prodigy, Uzumaki Naruto; trouble maker and Hokage-wannabe and Haruno Sakura, boy obsessed try-hard."

Risa smiled "That's a little harsh isn't it given their reputations?"

"I thought I was to _assume_ you knew nothing about them."

Risa gave a quick nod and waved him to continue.

"…It was only my opinion at the time." Kakashi said almost defensively.

Risa nodded and smoothed the papers against her skirt. "Uchiha Sasuke became our highest priority missing-nin and S-rank criminal, Uzamaki Naruto is in training to become the Rokudaime and Haruno Sakura became the Hokage's apprentice. For good or for bad, you tutored some exceptional shinobi."

"I had very little to do with it." Kakashi said quietly "I focused all my attention on the student who seemed the most valuable to the village only to have him defect to Orochimaru on some misguided search for revenge. The other two turned to the other two Sannin for tutelage and learned the majority of their skills from them. I got dumped for my lack of interest. As usual, by the time I figured out how much they meant to me they were gone. I've never deserved them anyway."

"It looks like your students substituted you for the only ninja' considered stronger than you in the whole of Fire Country."

"Well that's something at least."

"How did you feel about them moving on?"

"It was for the best in retrospect. In truth I was a terrible teacher and at times a worse superior. I preach about teamwork and then when they need me I disappear. How are you supposed to trust a leader who does that?"

Risa stayed silent and waited.

"Hmm…" Kakashi mused softly. "I will always regret what became of Sasuke but I doubt anyone could have steered him away from the path he chose…and at the time I couldn't see Naruto as anything other than the shadow of my former sensei, just as brash and enthusiastic, only louder and more annoying…and that hurt. It stirred up a self-protective indifference that the boy didn't deserve. After he came back from training I began to see _him_. I've come to respect him even if he is still an idiot. I regret not seeing his potential; I could have been more patient as team leader and sensei. It's a good thing the boy doesn't hold grudges."

"And Haruno Sakura?"

"I'm probably the most ashamed of how I treated her. She had an unrivalled aptitude for absorbing information. Almost everything I taught her, which wasn't much, she soaked up like a sponge, often grasping a concept or jutsu first or second time. But she was a dreamer, more obsessed with boys than ninja-skills. I had no time at all for her. She gained focus after Sasuke. Naruto and Sakura became a unified force, striving to bring him back and then we were suddenly a _real _team. We fitted…we worked well together. Me, Naruto, Sakura, Sai and Tenzou. An interchangeable, well oiled machine."

"It sounds like those events made you all stronger."

Kakashi issued her with the 'patented lackadaisical shrug.'

"You made up for it by being there later and you acknowledge that your past behaviour towards them wasn't the best it could have been. So why feel ashamed or undeserving? Why feel like you haven't earned back that trust?"

Kakashi is one visible eye narrowed almost imperceptivity and in its vast depths Risa couldn't even begin to pick apart the torrent of emotions she was seeing. Her breath caught as the man before her struggled to put voice to words. This was it! An emotional response; humour, regret, sadness, happiness all rolled up in a turbulent dark grey sea…and then as quickly as it had come the shutters snapped back down and Hatake Kakashi spoke as if he were reading off a shopping list.

"Because then I started fucking her."

* * *

I'd seen her look at _him_ the same way -when she was just a girl, weak muscled and almost waif-like.

She'd dieted religiously before he'd left, assuming that if the boy ever discovered hormones that he'd actually want and anaemic wretch of a girl. If Sasuke had been inclined to be normal for one-second and looked at a member of the opposite sex with bolder eyes, I am almost certain his taste would have _still_ been practical. He was after all a practical child from an ambitiously practical family.

No, Uchiha Sasuke would have wanted a girl with wide childbearing hips, a quiet well-mannered girl who spoke when spoken to with a good genealogy who would pump out enough children to start a school.

Sakura at twelve or even fifteen was skinny and awkward looking with outrageous hair, a bad temper and mild schizophrenia from a largely civilian ancestry. She simply didn't fit the bill.

But she used to look at him in such a way…

It was as if her body was screaming for him, when he looked at her she became boneless, she basked in his ice-cold stare as if it were the warm April sun in a blue cloudless sky. To be blunt -the power of a thousand dodgy clichés fuelled the intensity of her longing. Her green eyes spoke of things her body, at the time, couldn't understand. It sounded wrong, but Sakura was drawn in by the gravity of his destruction …even before she was a medic Sakura was a healer, desperate to fix a broken man.

Even at twelve.

And now her green eyes look up at me. The same stare, the same neediness, the same longing. Only now her body does understand, I can see it in the way she inclines her head towards me when we talk, in the way she flicks her hair subconsciously when I look at her, the way she pushes her shoulders back slightly to make her breasts look bigger. She walks ahead of me instead of behind, displaying long toned legs and possibly adding a little extra sway and I _know_ that this is a conscious choice.

Does she know I know? …I don't know.

The dress she wears looks good on her, a high collared sleeveless shift-dress that buttons from her naval to right the way up to her throat. The buttons are tiny little round beads that catch the light thrown down from the peeling lampposts; each one nestled in a rosette of lace. My fingers twitch around the book I'm not reading as I wonder at the texture. The conservative nature of the collar is off set by _just . how . short_ this little red dress is. Naruto voices my thoughts and is hit into the next lamppost.

"It's my birthday and I'm definitely old enough to wear what I want." She says striding onward.

"Why does she keep mentioning how old she is?" Naruto asks in confusion. "I know eighteen is a big deal…are we supposed to buy all her drinks or something? I already spent all my money on her present." He finishes mournfully.

I shrug outwardly and bite down on my cheek. Hard.

As I follow her and the boy's to the bar there is a familiar disquiet in my gut, the one that reminds me just how much I hate crowds and social occasions, but humming away alongside that familiar dread is a newer more unnerving one.

_Why didn't I prepare myself for this possibility?_ I ask mentally…because in all honesty I have no idea what to do with the knowledge that my student is in love with me.

Thankfully the bar is quieter than one would expect on a Friday night due to the increase of hostile activity along our borders. Most her friends are at various outposts or on long reconnaissance missions, so the extended team seven; Naruto, Sai, Tenzou, Sakura and myself sidle into a booth and order large pitchers of bubblegum coloured cocktails of Sakura's choosing. They smell strongly of sugar, artificial flavourings and too much alcohol.

I swivel a lime green cocktail stick around my glass unenthusiastically because even the drink compliments her colouring. I know I am being paranoid to think she's doing it on purpose. In fact she suddenly seems completely oblivious to my presence and talks animatedly to Sai and Naruto about the thrills and spills of poison extraction. Naruto nods along as if understanding and Sai smiles back blankly.

"So Tenzou, Tsunade-sama told me that they'll be pulling you back into ANBU for a while." I say quietly to my old kohai who is sipping at his cocktail with a bemused expression on his face

"Yamato, Kakashi. It's Yamato. You know, this is actually quite tasty!" he hums back cheerfully. I roll my eye knowing that Tenzou and sugar is a rather unique concoction. "…but yeah its true, but probably nothing to worry about, just the minor countries juggling for power."

Sakura's busy braiding a chunk of Naruto's hair now and I suppose she's missing her on-off-best-friend-worst-enemy Ino. Naruto, to his credit, sits still and allows the gentle molestation of his scalp. The gentle droll of separate conversation continues around the table until Sai clears his throat and everyone turns their attention to the pale skinned artist.

"I have come to believe it is customary to give a gift to the birthday girl." He says pleasantly, obviously on best behaviour. From underneath the table he brings out a small carrier bag and deposits a small rectangular parcel wrapped in shinny black paper onto the tabletop. Sakura coos and makes a big show of covering her mouth with both hands in 'surprise.' The ladylike formalities go out the window however as she snatches it up and rips the neatly wrapped present open.

"Oh! Its…a…errr…what is it?" she asks turning the object around in her small hands and giving it a shake.

"It's a violence box." Sai states simply. "Naruto bought me a 'swear box' six months ago and every time I make what he considers to be an inappropriate comment about his penis I have to deposit a small denomination of money into it. It will only open with the users chakra. I managed to buy eight canvas' with last months collection."

"…"

Mistaking Sakura's quiet rage for confusion Sai pressed on, "If you place some money in the box every time you hit myself or Naruto then you will soon be able to buy a new pair of shoes, or a dress or any other manner of feminine things…"

_THWACK!!_

Sai rubbed his arm pitifully and then a dull '_chink' _was heard as Sakura deposited a handful of change into the small box.

"Thanks Sai, I love it." she says smiling sweetly.

"Me next, Me next! Here you go Sakura-chan!" Naruto squirms and dumps a misshapen bundle of newspaper on her lap. Sakura wisely opens this present with more care, as if in fear of something leaping out at her. Instead she holds up a small marble elephant, intricately carved and studded with semi precious stones.

"Woah…Naruto it's so pretty!" Sakura says with wide eyes.

"Its foreign!" Naruto says proudly and I see Tenzou stifle a sugar-hyped giggle behind his glass. "…And, you're supposed to put it facing a door in your bedroom for good luck…or was it fertility…I can't remember…"

"Thank you Naruto, it's beautiful whatever it brings into my bedroom."

I swear she looks at me as she says it but before I'm sure she's looking at Tenzou who is presenting her with a perfect miniature cherry tree. It's a fantastic winding specimen of a bonsai with tiny cascades of pink flowers weighing down its perfectly proportioned boughs.

He smiles warmly at her awed face. "Now before you tell me you'll kill it I want you to know that this tree is one hundred percent Sakura proof, not only is it imbued with my chakra but it's also self watering and self feeding. Just put it in a windowsill that gets a little sun and it'll last forever."

She stands and leans across the booth and wraps her arms around his neck to thank him.

The table instantly lapses back into conversation and I know that it isn't expected of me to present her with anything. I finger the paper wrapping in my lap feeling suddenly awkward. Sakura picks the pitcher up and heads to the bar with Tenzou in tow. With Sai and Naruto arguing about who's present was better I quietly slip out the booth and out of the bar.

I start walking…and I'm not really sure where I'm going. I stand stock still in the middle of the street, torn between going home to bed or going to the memorial and dropping Sakura's present into her mailbox on the way. Lost in my own thoughts, I don't notice her until she grabs my arm and pulls me round with just a little touch of enhanced strength.

"Where do you think you're going?" the question is entirely rhetorical and her mouth is a thin line, her shoulders squared as if she's looking for a fight. I don't really understand why. Or at least I don't want to.

"Maa, I thought I'd best get an early night." I notice that she still has hold of my arm and she's holding on tightly, even slightly painfully.

"It's my _birthday_ Kakashi."

"Happy Birthday Sakura" I say cheerfully and hold up her present with my other hand.

"…Kakashi I don't care about presents, I'd just like your company." she says in a patronising tone.

"Oh. Well I'll just keep this then." I say moving to put it back in my pocket. Instantly her anger dissipates and she releases my arm and grabs for the package. I hold it above my head teasingly.

"Kakashi…" she growls with a trace of a giggle.

"I thought you didn't want it…"

"I do! I really do!" she yelps jumping up and down on the spot trying to reach it.

"Fine…but it's not as exciting as the others."

"I don't care you silly man!" she cries and I allow my arm to drop slightly so she can reach it.

She feels through the brown paper bag and commentates her speculation.

"Hmm…it feels like a book. And it's wrapped in brown paper…Kaka-sensei, this better not be one of your pervy 'novels'." Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline at the prospect.

I grin although she probably can't see it. With a soft rustle she pulls the paperback out slowly and studies the front cover.

"Forgotten Genjutsu and their Application." She intones quietly.

"You're a genjutsu user by nature so I honestly don't know why you haven't bothered learning any. I think you'll like these, they aren't the usual pain or fear inducing types, and instead they are gentle and could be considered kind to an opponent. They are just as vivid and deadly but I thought that with you're delicate sensibilities toward torture they would prove more usable, plus they are all under twenty hand seals so should be easier to remember…"

The awkwardness is returning full-force as my mouth seems to move of its own accord, am I rambling? "I thought that if you ever found yourself in a position where you needed to sedate a patient without the use of drugs then some of these would work…"

She nods her head, a curtain of pink hair shrouding her features. Her fingers trace a heavy crease in the front cover. I shift from side to side and shove my hands in my pockets to stop them from snatching it back.

"Yeah, sorry about that…it's out of print so I gave you my old copy."

"Yours?" she whispers.

"Yeah…I don't need it, sort of committed it all to memory. You know…Sharingan." I tap my forehead protector to clarify and shrug. She finally lifts her head and she's smiling, a big bright smile.

"I love it. I really really do." She clutches it against her chest.

My hand reaches out automatically to ruffle her hair in a gesture meant to dispel…this…_whatever_ this is hanging between us…but instead I find my fingers smoothing down a flyaway strand of pink which I tuck behind her ear. Before I quite realise what I'm doing my thumb is tracing over the delicate shell of her ear, my fingers are curling into the soft feather light tresses and drawing small arcs across the nape of her neck. She shudders against the touch, her arms erupting in a fine gooseflesh. My hand snaps back into my pocket like a slingshot, my hand curling into a tight fist to dispel the lingering sensation of her skin against mine. Her expression is a mask of shock. Her mouth moves minutely but no sound comes out.

"Happy Birthday Sakura, have a good night." I say too quickly and too quietly and immediately vanish on the spot. I reappear in my bathroom and stagger to the sink; my fingers latch tightly around the porcelain basin, my knuckles turning white.

I feel something akin to nausea and shove my head under the cold tap to chase _it_ away. It doesn't work.

* * *

Risa was trying her best to fight down a smile, she really was. Finally she'd found a way to open him up. Okay so it was only a crack in the door but it was still better than nothing… It was only a minute change, instead of delivering this tale in a dreary monotone as usual the copy-nin looked awkward and perhaps even embarrassed…of all the emotions she expected these were probably last on the list. But by gods yes! It was a start.

"Kakashi, so far this doesn't sound quite like the 'breaking of trust' that you implied. You were physically sick…it sounds like you're terrified about idea of sex..."

His eye widened with obvious indignation and he broke in without even waiting for her to finish her sentence. "I am not terrified of sex! I'm a man, I like sex! No…I _love_ sex. Hell, I've fucked countless women, my fair share of men too, in a multitude of positions, with all manner of kink and edibles…I've done it for my job, I've done it for my pleasure, I've…"

"…Men?" Risa cut in amused by his tirade.

"I have broad tastes."

"So why the awkwardness."

"Because she was my student, my team member, as well as being of a different rank she is also fourteen years my junior. You know as well as I do that courtship between ninja is strictly monitored, Sakura and I together is all sorts of taboo. I wasn't terrified by the idea of sex…I was terrified by the idea of sex with _her!_"

"It sounds a lot more like you were terrified by _intimacy_ with someone you were emotionally attached to."

"…and why _wouldn't_ I be terrified by that?"

"Are you in love with her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I mean I care about her, I care about them all…but love is a heavy word. It's pain and hate and confusion and…it's putting someone else first _all_ the time no matter what. I _love_ my country and by proxy I love my team…but I'm not capable of loving _her_. Not in the way a singular human being needs to be loved. I'm just not capable."

"So what were you feeling if not love?"

"An infatuation. An obsession. An addiction."

"…Perhaps a need to _be_ loved."

* * *

It's another blisteringly hot day in a month with very little rain. The training ground is a sea of yellow, the grass brittle and burnt, the soil is cracked and hard and wholly unforgiving as my body slams into the earth. The salty sweat runs off my hair and into my eyes as I slump down and pull a canteen from my discarded jounin vest and pour the lukewarm water over my head to try and wash away some of the grime. There's a gentle series of pops as I disperse my clones and the creeping trickle of their knowledge filters into my brain. It's a strange sensation of remembering yourself in a moment from multiple angles. Almost like having a gods-eye view of the world. I can see now that I am dropping my shoulder slightly when I block. It's a minute error, one I wouldn't have picked up on while wearing my bulky jounin vest but one I now know to correct. It's easy to pick up bad habits when you train by yourself and not with others.

I have been avoiding Sakura and subsequently Naruto, Sai and Tenzou for over a month. I haven't seen or spoken to her since her birthday. I know its cruel and I know I am shattering the unity of our team but I can't see her until I have control over myself. So I take missions alone. Tsunade demands that I take a couple of weeks off and I grudgingly agree that I could use some time to train, a close call with a kunai was the fault of sloppy form, it's a mistake that needs rectifying.

I feel the familiar draw of her chakra from somewhere behind me and consider running…which is why I don't. She's my teammate, no, she's more than that, she's my friend. I'm pathetic.

She's jogging over to me and our eyes meet. She doesn't even flinch at my exposed Sharingan, which captures her every move as if in slow motion. Her short hair is pulled back into a short tail, loose strands stick to her forehead, the bridge of her nose is speckled with small freckles which appear darker under the blossoming flush spreading across her cheeks. The sweat soaked fabric of her red cotton tank clings to her body, outlining the definition of her toned abdomen and the gentle curves of her breasts. A sheen of perspiration coats her exposed skin as she draws to a stop before me, its odd that she doesn't say anything. I expect an angry tirade but it doesn't come.

"_Where have you been?"_

"_Why are you avoiding me?"_

_"What have I done wrong?"_

She doesn't say any of these things and it occurs to me that maybe she's matured enough to realise that she isn't always to blame. My eye tightens and spins lazily as it follows the movement of a bead of sweat that runs from the junction of her collarbone down. Down.

It disappears into her top leaving a thin wet trail behind it. I lick my lips behind my mask and swallow dry.

I feel her studying me with equal intensity. She looks hungry; it's a look that I never would have thought she'd direct at me, her pale pink lips are slightly parted as her elevated breathing slowly returns to normal. Sweat glistens across her top lip, gathering in her philtrum, I can't seem to break my gaze as I stare so blatantly at her parted mouth, her eyes widen with anticipation when I roughly pull off my leather gloves and drop them on the ground. My reservations are completely forgotten as I reach out, slowly, deliberately, and run my finger along the smooth skin to wipe away the perspiration. Her breath is coming in short silent pants which flare hot against my lingering hand, when she speaks it's a quiet whisper. As she says each word her lips move intentionally against my fingertips in the softest of caresses…its feels so intensely erotic that I don't really hear what she's telling me.

"…so I wanted to thank you."

"Huh?" I ask forcing my mismatched gaze up to meet hers.

"The book. The one you gave me for my birthday? I've been working on combining the techniques…they are really effective and easy to use so I wanted to say thank you."

"Thank me?" I say my senses returning minutely as a small flood of panic floods through my system.

"There's one though that I can't seem to get quite right. I was hoping you'd help me figure out what I'm doing wrong."

I drop my hand finally. "You know the Sharingan counters most genjutsu."

"So cover it."

I pick the headband up without question; the hot metal burns my fingers as I wrap it over my eye.

"Ready."

Her hands move through a set of fifteen seals. The signs are accurate and confident but performed too slowly.

"You're too slow, you give too much time for your opponent to counter, if you…" I pause as I feel her chakra pulse through my cerebral nervous system, cool blue fills my vision and I gasp hard as my senses stretch with a flood of sensations.

*****

_I can smell her._

_Vanilla, almonds and a light crisp scent like fresh fruit or sparkling water. The scent of her skin, her hair, her arousal. Rich and heady around me._

_*****  
_

The images shift and layer like a flick-book, a collage that slowly builds in the space behind my eyes. It starts to gain focus and dimension…it starts to feel real.

*****

_I can taste her._

_Subtle and strong, sweet and sour…she tastes like every other girl. She tastes unique. A complete contradiction just like I've always imagined._

_*****  
_

Adrenaline and endorphins rush through my bloodstream, I feel my body switching on, light by light. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise that I am standing stock still in the centre of the parched training ground with the beginnings of what's sure to be a massive hard-on forming in my pants.

*****

_I can feel her._

_…Under my palms. Soft smooth skin that prickles and heats. I can feel her moving around me. Wet and warm and trembling. Fingernails draw hot lines down my biceps, my back, through my hair…its tight and aching and slipping and sliding and…_

*****_  
_

My chest is rising and falling rapidly, my breath coming out in short sharp bursts. There's sweat running down my temples, which only increases the sensation. For a second I regain focus on the girl in front of me…and I have to remind myself that she _IS_ a girl. This can't happen, this is wrong.

*****

_I can see her._

_Shuddering underneath me, writhing and bucking. I'm pumping into her hard and fast, my hands are moving everywhere - across her sweat soaked flesh, cupping her small pale breasts, gripping her narrow hips so tightly that I can feel her hipbones digging into my palms. I grind down hard into her and the tension in my body flares hotter. A coil winding tighter and tighter, hot, hot, hot…_

_…her lip catches between her teeth as she arches into me._

_*****  
_

I hear myself groan, long and low. It sounds needy, even desperate, and though I can't muster the focus to feel embarrassed, I know I should be.

*****

_I can hear her._

_And this is perhaps the worst. The sound of her panting, the high keening cries as I slam down again and again. The harsh wet slap of skin on skin, the broken words lost amongst the broken sentences…_

_One word stands out. Kakashi, Kakashi, Kakashi…_

_She smells like me as I bury my head in her shoulder._

_She tastes like salt as I lick and suck at the jumping pulse point on her throat._

_She feels like liquid fire as my rhythm starts to break within her._

_She looks like carved ivory as my eyes start to roll back into my head._

_She sounds like…_

_…she sounds like…_

_Sakura, Sakura, Sakura_

_Sak…_

_*****  
_

"Kai!" I shout before I can completely degrade myself in front of her. I drop to my knees shaking and gasping and push the heels of my hands into my eyes to dispel the residual images. My hands shake with the effort. I'm covered in sweat, I'm aching and still panting and I need release. My erection is straining hard against my loose fitting pants and it takes extreme self-control not to finish myself of then and there. The shame and embarrassment of what has just almost happened strides clearly into focus. Oddly, for the first time in a long…_long_ time I feel like crying.

"What did you see? What did you feel?" she asks in a rasping whisper that seems much louder to me than my own heavy breathing. I can't answer.

"Kakashi, I know you could of got out of that sooner."

I can't help the derisive snort that I make. I continue to look at the ground.

"That jutsu gives the opponent what they want most…"

"I know what it does Sakura." I manage with an impressively steady voice but the bitter tone is evident. "The point of it is to trap your opponent in a scenario they wouldn't want to get out of. A personal little paradise." I spit.

"You want me." She says with shaky confidence taking a step forward.

"No, I want to fuck you. There's a difference." I say coldly.

"Yes, but you still want me. Specifically _me_. You said my name." She says taking another step toward me, her sandalled feet come into my field of vision.

"Don't flatter yourself. It's only because you've been throwing yourself at me for the last…"

"You can have what you want."

My eyes snap up to hers. "Leave me alone." I growl, shocking myself with the venom in my voice.

"Fine." She says, her jaw setting firmly in place. "If you decide to stop running away, you know where to find me."

I watch her walk away and fight the impulse to go after her.

* * *

"Later that night I slide open the window to her apartment and she's sitting in the dark on the windowsill completely naked." Kakashi said chuckling "Presumptuous little thing."

"And you still claim that there's no love involved?"

"There's barely any respect at least not on a personal level. she's an amazing kunoichi. It was for my part just about sex. About fulfilling a need. She understood that."

"How was it? Did it give you everything you needed?" Risa asked with disbelief. How could a man live by boxing him self in so tightly?

"Yeah. It was just like I'd imagined."

"And afterwards?" Risa asked.

"Well…Sakura is Sakura. After a while she got tired of the secrecy, started wanting more than I was prepared to give her. When the war started in earnest we were too busy to even see each other. It had run its cycle."

Ah, glorious familiar monotone…

"When she comes home you should tell her how you really feel. But first you need to work out what that is. You shouldn't be scared of embracing love…or if not love, humanity. Its not a weakness to care about people."

"You sound like Naruto."

* * *

Kakashi arrived home feeling heavier than he had in a long time. He'd given Risa what she'd asked for; a brief insight into the man behind the mask as it were, but whether that had worked in his favour or not he couldn't tell. No, he wasn't going to be made to go through that again. She probably thought she'd broken down the first of many walls but Kakashi knew that walls were there for a reason. Without them the whole house would come crashing down.

Slipping a piece of paper out of his jounin vest pocket he studied the rudimentary timetable he'd been able to piece together over the last two weeks with renewed determination. Ishihara Risa was a creature of habit it seemed…and Kakashi was renowned for being unpredictable.

* * *

_AN: Oh god. My first proper attempt at a sort-of-lemon. Yeah I had to make it a bit abstract to get through it! I set myself the challenge of "no kissing" and "make it different…" not sure how that worked out, I hope it wasn't too cringy or too tame… and that the formatting didn't give you all headaches. Hmmm oh well…practice practice practice!_

_(blushes and hides.)_


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