A/N: Wow. I honestly had not planned on continuing this story, but I reread it today and all of my ideas came flooding back to me. My hands itched to type it all out, so here I am. I have no excuses for such shameful tardiness other than pure and simple laziness. I also lost interest in writing for a few months (it wasn't a very good time for me). For that, I apologize. There is some very stark contradiction in Sakura's half of this chapter and Kakashi's. I'm still not positive what will happen when those completely separate halves meet in the next chapter, but I'm working on it. I am not guaranteeing speedy updates from now on, but I appreciate anyone who still bothers to read this after so long. Thank you, all of you. You make me smile :)

This one's a bit longer than I planned, but I hope you enjoy it. I'm trying to get back in the hang of writing this thing.

Chapter Four

Alive

The first sound to reach the kunoichi's ears was that of a songbird perched atop the wooden window pane at her side. Even though the tune was light and soothing, it held a hollow emptiness she could not place. The slats of sunlight spilling across her blanketed legs gave no warmth, the gentle breeze ruffling her rosette locks no escape from the stiffling depression of the tiny hospital room. She drew in a gasp, filling her lungs until they felt they would burst, and wished sleep would overtake her once more. She was suffocating and no amount of air could relieve the tightening pressure on her chest. A soft whimper escaped her parted lips, airy and painful. Her throat was dry as a desert, her lips cracked.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings and she quickly deduced her location as being the Konoha hospital. The antiseptic smell and sterile whiteness of it all should have felt like home. When she wasn't on the mission roster you could always find her elbow deep in surgery or knitting broken bones and torn flesh for shinobi and civilians alike. But today she couldn't help but feel strangled by the emptiness of the room. Her gaze flickered to the half-open window and a sudden longing to be out there, anywhere as long as it was away from this room, overwhelmed her. Before she could concoct some sluggish plan to escape, knowing she was really in no shape to pull a disappearing act if the aches and pains littering her body were any indication, a civilian nurse entered her room. Her face was plain and she looked bored to tears. In her small, delicate hands was a tray with a few syringes and a new line for the kunoichi's IV.

CRASH!

The metal tray clattered to the ground, briefly filling the room with a sound of thunder. Syringes rolled haphazardly across the tiled floor. A startled, choked sound tore itself from the nurse's throat, half-scream, half-sob. Sakura stared at the woman, confusion pulling her brows together and a frown on her parched lips. Alright, so she figured she might look a little worse for wear but surely she didn't look that bad, Sakura thought with a twinge of annoyance. The woman had set eyes on her for no less than five seconds before stumbling like she'd seen a ghost.

"Excuse me-" Sakura forced out, her voice hoarse and cracked.

"You're awake!" The nurse interrupted, voice awash with awe, brown eyes the size of dinner plates. "She's awake!"

"What are you . . . ?" Sakura's voice trailed off as the woman ran from the room, leaving the scattered remains of her supplies on the floor. An unnatural silence swept over the room. The pink-haired kunoichi frowned and stared at her hands, various shades of yellow, purple and blue from healing bruises. Maybe this was some sort of dream and she was still sleeping blissfully in a hospital bed somewhere. Maybe she was dead. The last thing she could remember was a bar. A bar and a man named Hyoko. Or perhaps it was Hyoto? Yes, Hyoto. The mission details flooded into her mind but they were hazy and she couldn't remember anything past her initial meeting with the man. It had been a simple reconassaince mission, but as her eyes slid across her body again and again she realized something must have gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

No less than a moment later, the nurse returned with a caravan of medics in her wake.

Sakura immediately picked out a familiar face among the crowd, a young medic-nin she had been training for a few months in her down time between missions.

"Miyu, what's going on here?" Sakura attempted to sound authoritative, but her voice only sounded more hoarse and pathetic.

"Sakura-san!" Miyu squeaked, flitting to the girl's side with unnatural speed. Her watery blue eyes glistened with unshed tears as she overlooked the older kunoichi. She reached out once or twice to touch the rosette-haired woman but always drew back as if afraid any kind of physical contact might shatter an unbelievable illusion. "We didn't think the jutsu had taken! We assumed you were . . . that it had been a waste . . . that too much time . . . Sakura-san!"

"Calm down, Miyu." Sakura goaded, reaching out weakly and patting the girl's trembling hand. "What are you talking about?"

"The jutsu!" She exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world.

"What jutsu?" Sakura was growing irritable and impatient. She was tired of being gawked at like some kind of sideshow.

"That's enough."

All eyes snapped to the new voice coming from behind the gaggle of nurses and medics that had formed in the doorway of the kunoichi's room. They parted easily as the dark-haired woman stepped through, a tired smile on her face.

"May we have some privacy, please?" Shizune asked, though it sounded more like an order. The group balked for a moment, stuck between wishing to obey their superior and the very human desire to watch this astounding scene unfold. It was, afterall, a trainwreck waiting to happen. But Shizune was having none of it, ushering the group out quickly and shutting the door behind them. A small twist of her wrist and the lock clicked into place.

Shizune returned her gaze to the injured woman and smiled. It was a haggard smile, but it was warm and sincere. Her skin was pale and her eyes were dark and sunken. She looked like she'd lost weight, her clothes hanging limply on thin shoulders and an even thinner waist. The first pinprick of anxiety hit Sakura as she wondered absently what had happened since she'd been brought in. The silence grated on her nerves.

"Shizune," Sakura started wearily, "Would you please tell me what's going on? What happened? How long have I been out?"

"In time, Sakura." Shizune murmured, voice much lower and vulnerable now that they were alone. "Maybe you'd like some more time to rest before-"

"I want to know now!" Sakura shouted and immediately bit back any more words that threatened to spill forth. Regret immediately flooded through her. Where was the carefully composed shinobi she'd worked so hard to become since her life had virtually gone to hell nine years ago? She was acting like a petulant child. She could blame it on exhaustion or pain, but she knew those were only empty excuses. She was better than this. She was patient. She was acting like a real bitch, she surmised.

"I'm sorry." Sakura whispered, eyes falling to her lap. "It's just . . ."

"I understand." Shizune offered up another tiny smile. "We've all been under a lot of stress lately."

A heavy silence settled upon them for a few moments before Shizune decided she'd given Sakura enough time to compose herself. It was silly to think she could prepare the pink-haired kunoichi for the news she was about to deliver, but she hoped Sakura was strong enough to accept it. It could tear her apart from the inside out if she wasn't. Shizune made a small prayer before the next words left her lips.

"Sakura," She hesitated, averting her eyes shamefully. "Tsunade-sama is dead."

The kunai hit the tree stump with a dull thud, sinking it's blade a good three or four inches in. A gloved hand wrapped around the handle and pulled the weapon from the wood, one dark eye examining the ragged gash it left. He was holding back today, his heart not quite in it. The sun glinted off the dull metal as he dropped the blade into his pouch and crouched in the shade beneath a large tree. The smell of fresh flowers drifted past his nose and he watched as a lazy breeze made the leaves whisper some unknown conspiracy above him. Spring was in full force today, but still he shivered.

"Hey, man!" A large hand clapped him on his back, pulling him from his momentary peace. "Raido and I are meeting up with some guys for a drink this afternoon, you in?"

Kakashi's uncovered eye fixed the man with a dark gaze, as if asking that simple question had been overstepping some concealed boundary. Genma sighed and sat beside his masked friend.

"I just thought you might like a break from your usual schedule." Genma's voice was soft and understanding. "How long has it been now?"

"Four months."

"Without missing a beat . . ." Genma whispered and though Kakashi heard, he said nothing. A few moments of companionable silence passed between them before Genma placed his hand on the copy-nin's shoulder and stood up. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Yeah." Kakashi replied unenthusiastically, raising his hand in a half-assed goodbye. Genma dissapeared in a poof of smoke, leaving the silent man once more to his thoughts. He looked out across the clearing at the trees opposite him. Had it really been four months already? He could still remember that day like it was yesterday. Thinking he'd lost her, that it was his fault, only to receive the news from an ANBU operative sent by the Godaime herself that hope was not lost. It wasn't until a few days later that he learned exactly what price had been paid to save his partner. While the loss had hurt him, he was struck with guilt almost immediately. He was selfish, he figured, because for all the sacrifice Tsunade had made that night, he realized he only cared about one thing.

She was going to live.

At least, that's what they'd assumed. They thought the forbidden jutsu, the powerful life-giving jutsu that Chiyo-sama had used years ago to save Gaara, would work exactly as expected. They thought that as Tsunade's life passed out of her, it would immediately instill vitality in her beloved pupil. But as the Godaime slumped to the ground, her last breath expelled through still-warm lips, Sakura showed no change other than a short burst of chakra and a renewed heartbeat. Her eyes did not flicker open the with power of life, her muscles did not twitch, her body did not spasm into animation. She merely sat there, motionless as a corpse but with the pulse to prove otherwise.

The immediate assumption was that the jutsu did not take. It was by no means a perfect technique, and while the Hokage lay dead on the hospital floor, it could easily be assumed that the young woman's new heartbeat was a fluke, a coincidence. Shouldn't she have awoken by now if the technique had been successful? But nonetheless, they had a live kunoichi on their hands and a dead Hokage. What were they to do?

The political ramifications were the first to rise to the forefront. As Sakura was being wheeled into what was to become her new home for the next four months, the council was fuming over Tsunade's decision. They called her selfish and slandered her memory. They said she was a drunk who acted on foolish impulses, that Sakura's meager life was not worth erasing their village's leader from existence. They did not care that she was the strongest kunoichi of her generation or the most skilled, medically speaking. To them, those were not viable excuses for Tsunade's brazen action. They could not understand how much the Godaime had grown to love Sakura or the promise she saw in her pink-haired pupil. They needed a new Hokage, a Rokudaime, and nothing else.

The first person that crossed their minds was Jiraiya. Though the council elders disliked the sannin as much as Tsunade, they knew they needed someone who was well-liked by the people, and whether he deserved it or not, the people of Konohagakure had heard the incredible tales of the Toad Sannin as he traveled the nations and saw him as a hero.

But they couldn't find him.

He had disappeared, it seemed. A blip on the radar that had permanently gone dark. They scoured the countries, spending invaluable weeks searching for the man but always came up empty. They saw this as another strike against his character. Of course he would disappear when his village needed him most. By then, rumors had started floating around Konoha with the absence of Tsunade. She was known to leave town every now and then for shameful gambling and drinking binges, but she always returned before she was truly missed (or rather, before the weight of the paperwork could snap her desk in two). Now it had been weeks and she was still gone. The small circle who had witnessed the sacrifice were sworn to secrecy, but still more rumors surfaced.

Now, four months later, the whole truth had not surfaced but the village knew their beloved Godaime was no more. They held a funeral for her in the customary style of a passing Hokage, quick to accept the council's lie that she had fallen ill due to old age which she hid with her age-transforming jutsu. The public, having never know how old she really was had no reason to doubt their trusted council and cried quietly at the funeral before returning to their lives. Times were peaceful with other villages so the lack of a new Hokage did not grate on the public's nerves just yet. The council took over all administrative duties while searching out new candidates. Those as young as Neji Hyuuga were even considered in their desperation. But one candidate always stood out among the rest. He was no doubt talented and intelligent. He was strategical, cunning, and loyal. He was truly the best fit to be Rokudaime. Not so young as to be wet behind the ears, but not a geezer, either. At the age of 35, he was ripe for the picking. Too bad he was so damn reluctant.

The first time the council summoned him to announce their proposal, he laughed at them. He apologized for his indiscretion, of course, but a smirk could still be seen beneath his dark mask. Were they crazy? Did they know him? Sure, he was good at what he did, but he didn't think being Hokage required his specific skill sets. How often would his administrative responsibilities include tracking and assassination? He had horrible people skills and the emotions of a rock. He was not fit to lead the village, merely serve.

The second time, he ignored their summoning. The ANBU operative stood outside his door for an hour, hoping that after knocking and knocking and knocking, the silver-haired shinobi might come out of sheer annoyance. Kakashi just went back to sleep.

The third time, he threw the first thing he could find, in this case a scroll, so hard at the door that it splintered the wood on impact and through a small hole he could see the stunned face of the messenger. Needless to say, he hadn't been bothered since. But still, it felt like an inevitable weight hanging over his head and one day it was going to fall.

He knew he should accept the council's choice with grace and understanding, but the only thing he could wrap his mind around was his pink-haired partner. Whatever missions they passed his way were always simple, hoping he'd get bored and accept the council's offer while at the same time protecting their most valuable would-be successor to the Hokage name. He merely finished each mission as quickly as he could and resumed his daily routine. Train in the morning, either alone or with Genma, sometimes Guy, and spend his afternoons reading at the hospital.

Standing, Kakashi brushed the dirt and grass from his uniform and pulled out a familiar orange book. It was well-read, but still in impeccable condition. He flipped open to the page he'd left off on, but his mind wandered. Something seemed different today. Something was off. Whether it was good or bad, he couldn't tell. He just kept on walking in the direction of the hospital and turned page after page without really comprehending any of the words. As he approached a small clearing on the outskirts of the village, between the shops and the training grounds, he paused. His eye flickered to an exceptionally beautiful flower standing tall and proud amongst the blades of grass. It was dark red in the center and faded into a soft pink as it reached the edges of it's silken petals. Kakashi stared at the flower for a moment before an unknown force compelled him to stoop and pluck the flower from it's roadside home.

He stared at the flower as he walked. He wondered if she'd like it. He felt a strange warmth swell across his chest, encompassing his beating heart with it's heat until he found it hard to breath. Maybe he was having a heart-attack, he wondered, as the strangeness spread across his limbs. His skin tingled as a cool breeze passed. Maybe he was getting sick. Shouldn't he be worrying? he wondered. His fingers tightened gently around the stem of the flower. He raised his head to the vibrant blue sky, sun beating down on his masked face, and smiled.

It was only a small smile, imperceptable to anyone who might pass him, but it was there.

For the first time in four months, he felt alive.