Chapter Text
Kakashi arrived at the Uchiha Clan Compound, dressed head to toe in gardening gear. His wide-brimmed hat shaded his face, the rest of his outfit a mishmash of faded overalls, gloves, and boots. He looked every bit the part of a seasoned gardener.
He’d been tending to the Uchiha Compound for years now, ever since Sasuke left, and it was something that had slowly become a strange kind of solace for him. The quiet of the place, the simple routine of pulling weeds, trimming overgrown hedges — it was a brief reprieve from the guilt that constantly gnawed at him. The guilt of not being able to protect his loved ones, of failing them in various ways. His thoughts always wandered to Itachi, to Obito, to Sasuke, and to the things he hadn’t done in time.
Yet, in these moments, it was almost like he could breathe.
He’d never told anyone about this peculiar hobby of his. No one ever asked, and he didn’t see a reason to volunteer the information. It wasn’t something that needed explaining. It was just him, the dirt, and the slow-growing plants that always seemed to teach him more about patience than anything else ever could.
But when he rounded the corner of the courtyard, his boots crunching on the gravel, he saw a figure already hunched over by one of the flower beds.
Sakura.
A streak of dirt smudged across her cheek, her brow furrowed in concentration as she pulled weeds with a focus that was endearing. Kakashi froze for a second, unsure of how to react.
When she noticed him, her eyes brightened, and she stood up straight, brushing off her hands.
“Hey, Kakashi-sensei!” she greeted, her smile wide and genuine. "I didn’t think I’d see you in full gardening gear today."
"I didn’t know you were a gardening critic, Sakura," he replied with his usual dry tone, though a small part of him felt a little embarrassed that she’d caught him with his over-the-top outfit.
Sakura laughed, her eyes twinkling. "You’re really into this, huh? Looks like you’re ready for a full-on farming competition."
“I find it peaceful,” Kakashi replied simply, scratching his head under his hat. “It helps clear my mind.” He paused, then shifted the topic. “What are you doing here, Sakura?”
“I know you've been taking care of this place. I thought I’d give you a hand for once.”
The statement surprised him more than he cared to admit. "You know I've been taking care of it?"
Sakura nodded, brushing some stray strands of hair from her face, leaving behind another streak of dirt.
“Yeah. Thought you could use the company.” She paused, her expression thoughtful. "And...well, I’m kind of good at this, you know?" She gestured to the rows of neatly pulled weeds around them. "My best friend is a Yamanaka, after all."
Kakashi stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge her intentions. He knew Sakura was far more perceptive than people often gave her credit for, but this? This was something else. He had kept his visits to the Uchiha Compound a secret for years.
He swallowed, the weight of her words lingering in the air between them. “I didn’t think anyone knew. It’s not something I share.”
Sakura smiled again, more gently this time. “I guess I’m not just a pretty face,” she teased.
Kakashi wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It made him realize how much more she might understand about him, about his quiet burdens, than he had given her credit for. How much more she might know than she let on.
“Well,” he said finally, breaking the quiet, “I could use the help. If you’re sure you want to be a part of the gardening squad.”
“You bet. I’m a natural.”
Kakashi chuckled softly, feeling the tension lift from his shoulders. It felt strange, sharing this part of his life, a part that had always been his own, with her. But there was something comforting in the idea. Something that made the loneliness he’d been carrying feel a little less heavy.
And as they worked together in silence, the quiet hum of the garden surrounding them, Kakashi realized that sometimes, the most unexpected moments were the ones that offered the most peace.
When they finally finished, the garden looked cleaner, more cared for, and the weight of the work seemed to lift with the last weed pulled. The sun was beginning to dip low on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the compound. The air was thick with the smell of earth and freshly trimmed grass, and the gentle rustling of leaves filled the quiet between them.
Kakashi stood up from the flower bed, stretching his back, his gloves caked in dirt. He glanced over at Sakura, who was wiping her hands on her pants, the same streak of dirt still marking her cheek.
Without thinking, his hand reached up, removing his glove in one fluid motion. He didn't hesitate, not even for a second, before his thumb gently brushed the dirt from her cheek, wiping it away. The action was tender, almost reverent. He could feel the warmth of her skin under his touch, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he was caught in the simplicity of the gesture.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The quietness of the garden, the fading light, the gentle touch — all of it felt...strange. Tense. Kakashi’s heart thudded in his chest, and for a split second, he had no idea why he’d even done it. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before. Not with her. Not with anyone.
But there he was, standing so close, holding her gaze as his hand lingered near her face.
Sakura froze for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected tenderness. But then, with a soft laugh, she reached up and swiped her cheek.
“I’m not a kid, you know,” she teased, her voice light and teasing, breaking the tension between them. She gave him a playful, knowing smile as she wiped the last bit of dirt away. “I can take care of myself, Kakashi-sensei.”
Kakashi blinked, his hand frozen in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. Her words hit him with a sudden, jarring force. A kid. It was an old term, one he had used without thought for so many years, but now it sounded different. She wasn’t a child anymore.
She was a woman.
The thought settled over him like a weight, making his heart skip a beat. The Sakura he had known, the one he had watched grow from a young girl into someone far stronger and more capable, stood before him now — her eyes no longer filled with the naive idealism of childhood, but with the maturity and resilience of someone who had faced hardship and learned from it.
He didn’t know when exactly she had stopped being the child he had always thought of her as, but it hit him then, clear as day. The realization settled in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the unspoken shift that had happened between them.
But Sakura just smiled, the same warmth and understanding in her eyes. She had always understood him in ways no one else had. She didn’t need him to finish the sentence. She just nodded.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, her voice carrying the gentleness of their shared moment. “I know.”
“Right. Of course,” he muttered, suddenly feeling a little foolish.
“I’m glad to see you care, though.”
Kakashi felt a strange warmth rise in his chest, though he wasn’t sure if it was from her words or the way the evening air seemed to settle between them. His thumb still tingled from where it had brushed against her skin, but it wasn’t just the contact. It was the way it felt — too intimate, too familiar, in a way that made his heart beat a little too fast. He looked away, trying to regain his composure.
“Let’s call it a day then,” he said, his voice slightly steadier now.
Sakura nodded, brushing the dirt off her hands one last time before reaching for her bag. “Sure, but I’ll warn you — I’ll be back next week. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Kakashi looked at her, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips, but his eyes held a quiet sincerity.
“Wouldn’t want to.”
🌸
When the day came for Sasuke to finally return, it felt bittersweet to Kakashi. Of course, he wanted his student back. He had spent so many years thinking of the boy as his failure, as someone lost to the darkness, and to see him return was a weight lifted from his shoulders. But there was something else, a nagging feeling deep in his chest, something he couldn’t quite shake.
Things were slipping away. That was the only way Kakashi could put it. All the years he had spent watching over Sakura, protecting her, guiding her, had led to this moment. Sasuke’s return had always been inevitable, but now that it was happening, it felt like everything was changing in a way he wasn’t ready for.
He knew, deep down, that whatever it was he felt for Sakura had to stop. Because Sasuke was back.
Sasuke, the one she’d been waiting for all these years.
Not him.
Kakashi had seen the way Sakura’s eyes had softened when Sasuke’s name was mentioned, the way she had held on to hope even when it seemed hopeless. He couldn’t blame her. He had always known that deep down, no matter how much she had grown, no matter how much she had changed, she would always carry a part of that unyielding hope for Sasuke.
He had expected a reunion, a return to normalcy, but instead, everything felt off-kilter. The bad guys were dead, Sasuke was back, and it should have been a moment of celebration. They should have been riding off into the sunset, the way it always played out in stories. But in reality, it was far from that simple.
She hadn’t run to Sasuke. She hadn’t thrown herself into his arms, crying tears of joy or relief. Instead, she had buried herself in her hospital work and missions. She was pulling away, retreating into herself as though Sasuke’s return had only unsettled her further.
Kakashi didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand her.
Sasuke had come back, the one she had chased after, the one who she had fought for. And yet, here she was, avoiding him. And in true Sasuke fashion, he wasn’t one to poke the bear. He didn’t seek her out. He didn’t try to force their reunion. It was almost as though he was giving her the space she seemed to want.
He didn’t know what it all meant.
Kakashi leaned back against the tree, a sigh forming on his lips. He had to do something. He had to make Sasuke go see her.
Naruto would be the perfect pawn for the job.
It wasn’t that Kakashi didn’t think Sakura could handle herself; he knew she was stronger than anyone gave her credit for. But the longer Sasuke stayed away, the harder it would be for her to heal from everything — everything that had happened between them. She was avoiding him, avoiding the very person who could bring her some semblance of closure. And Kakashi couldn’t let that happen. Not on his watch.
“Hey, Naruto,” Kakashi said, catching the blonde’s attention as he walked by. “I’ve got an idea.”
Naruto stopped dead in his tracks and looked at him, suspicious. “What now? I know that look. It’s not good.”
“I think it’s time for Sasuke to visit Sakura.”
Naruto blinked, surprised. “Huh? Why’re you bringin’ that up now?”
Kakashi gave a small shrug, the wheels in his mind turning faster than he cared to admit. “Well, you know how she’s been. And Sasuke...he’s been avoiding her for a while now. It’s time for that to change.”
Naruto scratched his head, still confused. “If you want him to visit her, why doncha just talk to him?”
“Because I know that Sasuke doesn’t listen to me. But he’ll listen to you, Naruto. You’re the one who can get him to do anything.”
“I dunno, sensei…”
“You’re going to goad Sasuke into visiting Sakura."
Naruto looked at him skeptically, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "That doesn’t sound like a good plan at all. I mean...what’re you tryna’ do, force them together?"
Kakashi’s gaze softened just a little, but his tone remained steady. "It’s what she would want."
Naruto’s frown deepened. "What? Watcha mean ‘what she would want’? I thought you of all people would know her better than that."
The words hit harder than Kakashi expected. A sharp pang twisted in his chest, but he didn’t let it show. Of course, he knew Sakura. He knew better than anyone how fiercely independent she was, how much she hated being pushed into situations where she felt cornered. She had made that clear time and time again.
But Kakashi also knew her better than she knew herself — he knew Sakura needed closure, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She needed to see Sasuke, to have the conversation they both avoided. And this would be the only way she could face it.
He exhaled quietly, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips. "Naruto...I know her better than you think. She needs this. She might not realize it now, but she does."
Naruto frowned, glancing away as if conflicted. For a long moment, the two of them stood in silence, the unspoken tension thick in the air. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Naruto sighed, relenting.
“Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me, sensei. I dunno if I like this idea…”
Kakashi nodded. He didn’t like this plan either. But sometimes, doing the right thing wasn’t easy.
"I know, Naruto. I know."
🌸
Kakashi stood in the shadows on the rooftop, hidden by the darkness of the evening, his gaze locked on Sakura’s apartment where she stood at the door with Sasuke.
The moment she paused and glanced toward the rooftop, Kakashi felt the all-too-familiar weight of her gaze. It was a sharp, knowing look, the kind that always made him feel exposed, like he was standing naked in front of her, no secrets left. She knew. She knew that he had nudged Sasuke into coming here. She knew he had orchestrated it all.
The corner of Kakashi’s lips quirked upward in the faintest, rueful smile, despite himself. She was smarter than he gave her credit for sometimes.
He had known this was coming, but seeing Sasuke there with her, standing so close to her, even for a moment, felt like a punch to the gut. Kakashi wasn’t sure if it was the way Sasuke hesitated at the door or the look on Sakura’s face as she stared at the rooftop, but it tore at him in a way he couldn’t fully explain. The woman he loved — loved — was about to let Sasuke into her life again. The same Sasuke who had left her behind, who had caused her so much pain.
And there he was, standing in the background, watching them both like some helpless spectator, caught between the past and present. He had made sure to push Sasuke into this position, hoping it would give Sakura the closure she deserved, but now that it was happening, it felt like he was drowning.
When Sasuke spoke, Kakashi winced. He could almost hear the uncertainty in his voice. The way Sasuke asked to come in was tentative, unlike the usual confident, almost arrogant tone he took.
Good, Kakashi thought bitterly. Maybe he’s not sure if he deserves to be there.
Sakura sighed, the sound carrying through the still night air, and he knew she was on the edge of giving in. Kakashi could hear the resignation in her voice when she finally muttered, "Fine," and let Sasuke in. That was it. She had yielded, though Kakashi wasn’t sure if it was because she really wanted to or if it was just easier than fighting the inevitable.
His heart thudded painfully as he watched them, helpless and motionless, as they crossed the threshold into her apartment. He could see the door close softly behind them, and in that instant, Kakashi knew he couldn’t stay.
He couldn’t stand there, watching the woman he loved fall back into Sasuke’s arms. Even if it was for closure, even if it was something she needed to heal, it felt like something was breaking in him, something deep and fragile. The selfish part of him wanted to shout, to run to her and pull her away, but he knew better. Sakura had made her choice long ago.
Kakashi stood frozen for a moment longer, his heart hammering in his chest. Then, as the final click of the door sounded, he ran.
He ran because he couldn’t watch them anymore. He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Sasuke with her, of watching that reunion unfold, knowing it wasn’t meant for him.
He couldn’t stand it, because as much as he tried to deny it, he was still the one on the sidelines. Still the one who would always be second.
The woman he loved — Sakura — was finally getting what she’d waited for. And it wasn’t him.
🌸
Kakashi’s heart was still pounding in his chest when he arrived at Genma’s apartment. His mind was a mess of frustration and regret, and he had barely processed what he’d just witnessed. The way Sasuke had stepped over the threshold of Sakura’s apartment, the way she had let him in — everything had collided in a rush of pain he couldn’t suppress. He needed to get out of his own head, needed to do something, anything.
So he did what he always did when the weight of his emotions became too much: he sought out Genma.
The door was unlocked. Kakashi had been in this apartment enough times to know it, and he didn’t hesitate. He shoved it open without a second thought, his anger pushing him forward.
What he didn’t expect was to find Genma in the middle of a passionate kiss with a woman. Her back was pressed up against the wall, and Genma’s hands were tangled in her hair, his lips hungrily tracing hers.
The woman gasped as Kakashi’s presence registered. But Kakashi wasn’t interested in her. Without a second thought, he grabbed her by the shoulders, yanked her away from Genma, and tossed her out of the apartment with a force that made her stumble.
Genma’s eyes widened in shock, and he scrambled to his feet, glaring at Kakashi. “What the hell, Kakashi?!”
Kakashi didn’t respond immediately. He stood there, breathing heavily, the tumult of emotions still crashing through him. He rubbed the back of his neck, as though trying to find the words to explain himself.
“I think I fucked up,” Kakashi finally muttered, his voice low and rough.
Genma blinked, clearly confused. “What do you mean, you think you fucked up? You—” He trailed off as Kakashi’s words seemed to sink in.
Genma didn’t ask what he meant, didn’t pry into Kakashi’s life for once. He knew better than to press him for details. Instead, Genma grabbed a nearby bottle of booze from the counter, uncorked it, and poured a generous amount into two glasses.
“Well,” Genma said with a half-smirk, “when you fuck up, there’s nothing better to do than get fucked up.” He slid one of the glasses toward Kakashi and took a swig from his own.
Kakashi grabbed the glass, downing the contents in one go, the burn of the alcohol doing little to ease the ache in his chest. He could feel the heat of it settling in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough.
Genma simply raised his glass in a silent toast to the unspoken understanding between them.
Kakashi leaned against the counter, his eyes closed, trying to shut out the image of Sakura and Sasuke. The image of her welcoming him into her life, letting him back in.
“Thanks, Genma. For...letting me be a mess.”
Genma waved him off. "Whatever, just don’t wreck my place next time. And for the love of all that is holy, stop tossing my dates around like that."
🌸
Kakashi sat at the table, pretending to follow along with the conversation. He had been doing that a lot lately — pretending. Pretending things were normal when they were anything but. Pretending he wasn’t dying to know what had really happened between Sakura and Sasuke. He couldn’t remember the moment when the line blurred, when it shifted from curiosity to something more.
The conversation at the table continued around him, but it was just noise. He couldn't focus on it. His eyes kept flicking toward Sakura, the way she looked so...different. So light. So happy. Was that really happiness, though? Or was it something more fragile, something new? He couldn’t tell. And it killed him that he couldn’t.
He was still stuck. Stuck on something he couldn’t have. A role he couldn’t fit into. A place he shouldn’t be.
Even now, surrounded by his team, Kakashi’s focus kept drifting back to Sakura. The way she looked at him sometimes, the way her eyes held something unspoken. It rattled him in a way he couldn’t explain.
And then Naruto dropped the bombshell. “That means you’ve kissed half the team now, right?”
The words exploded in the air, and Kakashi froze, his breath catching. The confirmation that he needed. That they’d kissed. And that’s when Kakashi felt it. That tightening, like a vice in his chest. That sickening, burning sensation of knowing.
His throat tightened as he tried to keep his face neutral, tried to pretend that everything was just fine, that he hadn’t just been hit with a sudden, uncomfortable revelation.
Sakura’s face went crimson. She slapped her palm onto the table, her eyes wide with disbelief, and Kakashi couldn’t help the small tightening in his chest.
Naruto, completely oblivious to the tension brewing, was grinning like a maniac. “Well, it’s true, right, Sasuke? You and Sakura-chan—”
His eyes darted between Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura, but it was her that held his focus, her flushed face, the panic flickering behind her eyes as she scrambled to laugh it off, to defuse the tension.
And then their gazes locked.
For a brief moment, everything around him seemed to fade. The noise of the room, Naruto’s laugh, the clink of dishes, the hum of the world outside — everything disappeared. It was just Kakashi and Sakura. Her eyes were wide, her green irises intense, questioning, almost searching. And he — he couldn’t handle it.
He couldn’t look into her bright green eyes and pretend like everything was okay.
The mask, the one he had built so carefully, — the one that kept everything buried, everything in its place — was cracking.
But he had to hold it together. Keep pretending. And so he looked away, back into his world of pretend.
It was like nothing had happened, like everything was back to normal. But it wasn’t. He could feel it in the way his chest tightened, in the way his heart skipped.
And then he felt it. A warmth — small, delicate — but there. Her hand. Her hand on his thigh, gentle, like a question, like she was offering him something she didn’t know she was giving.
He couldn’t think. His pulse was hammering in his ears. Was this her way of reassuring him? Or was it something else? Something more?
His pulse quickened as he fought to keep his composure, torn between the need to act and the overwhelming desire to remain composed. But that hand — those fingers on his thigh — it had to mean something. Didn’t it?
No, she was oblivious how this small act was shattering his carefully constructed mask. He had never been able to decipher the depth of her feelings — always wondering, always second-guessing. But now, in the quiet tension of the moment, it felt like everything was on the verge of breaking, and he had no idea which way it would fall.
His hand moved on its own before he could stop it. He grasped hers, his fingers curling around hers, holding tight, like he was trying to ground himself.
There. That should be clear enough, shouldn’t it? He needed her to know. He needed her to understand. This wasn’t just about comfort or reassurance. This was about him, too. He was there, wasn’t he? He was present. How else could he show her? Words had always failed him, but this — this felt like enough.
Kakashi didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. If he met her eyes now, everything would shatter. Everything would fall apart. But the silence between them was thick, charged, and his thumb moved instinctively across her knuckles, slow, deliberate, like a question he couldn’t put into words.
Sakura’s fingers trembled for a moment before they tightened around his hand, returning the pressure. Her touch was a silent answer, and for a moment, Kakashi let himself believe it. Maybe she felt it, too.
That this wasn’t some accident, some fleeting comfort, but a silent understanding between them. That maybe, in this small but undeniable moment, she could feel what he had never been brave enough to say. The overwhelming truth of his feelings for her, feelings he had buried for so long, the feelings that had never stopped gnawing at him, even in the quietest moments.
No pretenses. No masks. Just her hand in his, and the weight of unspoken feelings.
But then—
"Hey, Sakura-chan!" He waved a hand in front of her face, completely unaware of the quiet storm unfolding just beneath the table.
Kakashi felt her hand slip away, the sudden absence of her warmth like a sharp tug in his chest. His fingers twitched, instinctively seeking hers, but she was already pulling back, too quickly, too forcefully. His heart stuttered, the loss more profound than it had any right to be, and he clenched his jaw to keep from showing it.
Sakura's face burned crimson, her movements jerky and frantic as if trying to distance herself from what had just happened. Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding his, her discomfort painfully evident. She was panicking. And it was painfully obvious.
She always did this. She ran when things got too close, when emotions threatened to breach the surface. They were the same in that way, both masters of avoidance, forever retreating to their respective walls when the world pressed in too hard. And he had no idea how to stop her.
Kakashi’s gaze dropped to the table, his book suddenly meaningless. The words blurred together as his thoughts spiraled, tangled and sharp. He wanted to say something, anything, to pull her back, to reassure her, to make her stay. But the words refused to form, stuck in the same space where his emotions had always been buried.
She was already slipping away from him. He hated it. Hated how powerless he felt.
But for that one moment, when she had squeezed his thigh, when her hand had been in his — that was real. That had been something. Something that, even now, made his pulse race and his heart ache in the quietest, most painful way.