Chapter Text
“Our Hokage looks like he hasn’t slept a wink,” Genma whispered, putting down his breakfast bowl with a frown. “Do you think he’s ill?”
Sakura didn’t want to look, but she did anyway. Genma was right—Kakashi, who was discussing something with the ANBU unit in the far corner of the dining room, looked terribly tired. She tried to harden her heart (served him right!), to push aside any concern (she hadn’t slept much either!), but it didn’t work: A sharp pang of worry tightened in her chest at the sorry sight of him.
Now was not a good time to drop the ball.
She knew about the pressure of the meetings with the Fire Daimyo. Tsunade had complained to her about the exhausting nature of those negotiations more than once—one slip-up, one moment of weakness, and everything could crumble. If Kakashi didn’t bring his A-Game today… Sakura didn’t know how bad that would be but judging from the amount of paperwork in Kakashi’s room, a lot was at stake.
At least she had managed to check him for poison, so she was fairly certain it wasn’t that which ailed him. Even though she wished fervently she hadn’t gone to see him last night. If she had more successfully resisted the strange worry she’d felt, she would still be miserable but harbor silly hopes. Now she was just miserable without any.
Ironic, really, that Kakashi himself had warned her. She remembered it now, her desperate drunken plea, her assurance that she wanted nothing more from him, that their professional relationship wouldn’t change if they slept together. He, patient and gentle, had said: You are sorely mistaken, Sakura. It will change everything. Damn him for being right! It was as if something rare and precious had been shattered between them. The trust, the easy camaraderie, the quiet moments of understanding… Was it gone forever?
After leaving Kakashi’s room, she’d wanted to flee this place, to return to Konoha immediately, maybe go on to the Sand, anywhere to avoid facing him after blurting out the truth about what the night with him had meant to her. But no, she had not given in to such a childish impulse and she wouldn’t die from embarrassment, even if it felt like it. She had come here to convince the Daimyo that Konoha needed a bigger hospital and that was more important than… well, than wanting things she couldn’t have and should never have allowed herself to want.
Unbidden, she remembered the pompous traditional house on the Southeastern Continent that had an old inscription carved above the entrance. She hadn’t been able to read the old alphabet, but her so-called “boyfriend” had translated it for her, weirdly gleeful: Woman, know thy place.
Really, who would have thought that was a phrase to live by?
“What does it do?” Genma asked, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “The poison,” he clarified when he saw her confused expression.
“I’m… not entirely sure,” she admitted, setting her spoon down on the table with a soft clink. “But I think it messes with his chakra system.” The memory of a dark purple river flowing with soothing intensity came with a strong yearning, and she quickly pushed it aside. She had learned to conquer her emotions, or at least, pretend everything was fine long ago. "Actually," she continued, forcing her voice to sound brisk and businesslike, "I meant to ask you: Do you know who makes the food pills?"
“ANBU, I think,” Genma replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He seemed to have recovered a little, Sakura noticed, his posture relaxed, his eyes clearer. Bandanna in place, senbon too. Good. She had worried about him yesterday, felt a strange responsibility to ensure he was okay too. “They’ve got a unit for military provisions and things like that. But I’m not entirely sure… we’ll have to ask Kakashi, he should know.”
The mere thought of having to “ask Kakashi” anything was enough to make her stomach twist. Today would be fun: they would spend large parts of it together in front of the Fire Daimyo.
“As soon as we’re back, we need to check who is responsible. Who delivers ingredients, who makes the pills, who handles them during which stage of production…,” Genma’s enthusiastic nodding was giving her some much needed boost of confidence. “I’m starting to think it’s someone with inside access—someone who knows our security protocols.”
“Do you think Kakashi is the target?”
Sakura understood immediately what Genma meant because she had wondered too—was the target Kakashi himself, or was it Konoha’s leader? “Likely yes,” she sighed, recalling many conversations about Kakashi’s enemies over the years with Sasuke and Naruto, feeling an odd mixture of pride and concern that their teacher was so prominent in other nations’ bingo books. “But I’m not sure. I need to confirm whether Kakashi’s pills are the only ones tainted. If this is more widespread, it could be catastrophic.”
“You don’t think you’d have noticed a mass poisoning?” Genma asked, his tone alarmed.
“I think the poison is slow-acting,” Sakura explained. “Designed to build up over time, so it avoids detection until the effects are severe. The fact that it slipped past Kakashi’s awareness suggests it’s incredibly sophisticated. I don’t think I would have noticed it without enough time to look and...”
To her horror, her face warmed, the heat creeping up her neck.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Genma’s face. She wanted to die.
“Ahhhhhhaaa,” Genma said, raising an eyebrow with amusement. “Now I understand why someone as level-headed as him was suddenly acting like a jealous teenager.”
“It’s not what you think...” Sakura stammered, her words faltering as Genma’s grin only widened in response to her discomfort. She felt like she was sinking deeper into the ground with each passing second.
“As the Hokage’s bodyguard, I can say with the utmost sincerity that everything that makes the Hokage happy makes me happy,” he said, leaning back slightly. “But the opposite is also true. Did you two quarrel?”
Sakura squirmed. “I… we…” Her words faltered under Genma’s watchful gaze.
Genma’s grin faded into a mockingly stern look. “Make up as soon as possible, please,” he scolded, the tone still light but serious. “I know, I know, he’s a little messed up, like all of us. But he in particular is such a wuss when it comes to emotions—he tries to stay away from them like they’re the plague, and fails miserably every single time.”
Huh? Sakura blinked, surprised. That wasn’t at all the image she’d carried of Kakashi.
Genma caught her doubtful expression and shrugged. “Don’t believe all that crap people say about him,” he continued. “It’s just a myth. Why do you think he was always reading those mushy romance novels? You think it’s because he doesn’t want emotions in his life? No, the opposite. He craves it—like an addict craves their drug. ”
Despite herself, Sakura laughed. “You’re just making this up, Genma. I appreciate it, but it’s okay. I’ve known Kakashi for half my life. I can deal with it.”
“It” being one of Kakashi’s gazillion satisfied women—and nothing more. At least she was the first to have sneaked out of his bed. Maybe he’d remember her for that.
“Do you know he’s always been like a super annoying little brother to me?” Genma shook his head in mock exasperation. “The wise-ass brat beat us in every single subject and won every single competition—when he was barely able to speak properly. And now look at him! Hokage! The job he definitely never wanted!”
Sakura scoffed. “You’re not that much older than him,” she pointed out.
“Flatterer,” Genma grinned, wagging a finger at her.
Behind them, the door burst open and the innkeeper and his family rushed into the dining area, a large pink cake in their hands adorned with flickering candles. Their voices rose in cheerful unison as they sang, “Happy Birthday to You!” completely off-tune and slammed the cake down in front of her. It was the pinkest cake she had ever seen.
“Oh,” was all that Sakura managed to say, “thank you. I really didn’t expect this.”
The innkeeper beamed at her, his pride evident as he took in her reaction. For the briefest moment, Sakura’s eyes met Kakashi’s across the room. Before she could make out anything in his expression, she quickly looked away, feeling a sudden rush of warmth flood her cheeks.
The innkeeper’s daughter, her face practically glowing with excitement, bounced on her heels. “Make a wish and blow out the candles!” she urged, her grin impossibly wide.
Sakura leaned in, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts settle on a wish. With a deep breath, she blew out the candles. The room erupted in cheers and applause, and for a moment, everything felt lighter.
“Who wants a piece?” Sakura asked, grabbing the knife from the table. “Please form an orderly line!”
They all did, except for Kakashi, who must have slipped away quietly when she had closed her eyes.
###
“Hebi encountered a foreign shinobi in the garden last night,” Genma informed Sakura as she joined the waiting group in the lobby. She was right on time, though everyone else had arrived early—except for one person. No surprise there.
“Shit,” Sakura glanced at the four ANBU guards, who were murmuring among themselves in low voices. “Anything serious?”
Genma shrugged, but a faint crease of worry marred his brow. “We don’t know yet. It looks like they tried to spy on us.”
“Whose are they?”
“That’s unclear too,” Genma said with a sharp intake of breath. “Hebi didn’t see him clearly. But we need to be extra careful today.”
As if on cue, Kakashi appeared at the top of the stairs, hands shoved casually into his pockets as he sauntered down with his usual unhurried gait. He still looked very tired, but a little less weighed down? When he passed her, Sakura caught the subtle flick of his eyes in her direction—a glance that darted away almost immediately. Interesting. He was capable of feeling uncomfortable too?
“Almost perfect timing, Hokage-sama,” Genma remarked dryly as Kakashi reached the group. “We were just discussing how to keep you safe out there.”
“Wonderful,” Kakashi drawled, brushing past them and onto the street without missing a beat. “I hope you also know how to keep yourself safe.”
Genma’s lips twitched as if he was holding back a retort, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he gave Sakura a small shrug, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement.
Sakura watched Kakashi’s back as he moved ahead, his stride steady and casual. To anyone else, he probably looked perfectly composed, exuding the effortless cool he was known for. It took someone as familiar with him as she was to notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, the slight rigidity in his posture that betrayed his discomfort. He wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted people to believe. It put herself on edge too.
Not long after they’d left the hotel, the ANBU members vanished into the shadows, flanking them out of sight. The remaining three of them moved together in a loose formation as they made their way toward the city center. Strings of lanterns crisscrossed the streets above them, swaying gently in the breeze. Vendors bustled about their stalls, arranging colorful trinkets, fragrant snacks, and shimmering fabrics on their counters. The mingling aromas of grilled skewers, cotton candy, and fresh pastries filled the air. Children darted between the adults, their laughter ringing out as they helped tie up decorations and hung paper charms.
The festive atmosphere, however, gave way to a different kind of buzz as the group passed by. Conversations seemed to fall silent as they approached, only to be replaced by poorly concealed giggles and excited murmurs as they passed. At first, Sakura assumed the attention was directed at Kakashi. He was the Hokage, a venerated figure, and one of the most famous war heroes in the land after all. But soon, Sakura noticed the sideways glances weren’t all aimed at Kakashi. Many were unmistakably directed at her.
“Sakura-sama!” a cheerful vendor called out, waving enthusiastically. “Welcome back! Did your last trip inspire more adventures?”
Sakura blinked, caught off guard. “Ah, yes… thank you,” she replied awkwardly, quickening her pace to rejoin the group. What the heck?
“Oh, it’s her!” a young woman exclaimed, her voice hushed but audible. “She’s the Cherry Blossom Adventurer! I love the part where she outwits the entire ninja squad with the enchanted blossoms!”
“Right? But how about him?” her friend whispered conspiratorially, glancing toward Kakashi. “He’s got to be the inspiration for Sensual Secrets of the Masked Sensei. Just look at him!”
Kakashi’s stride faltered for the briefest of moments before he recovered, his expression carefully composed. Genma, walking beside him, had no such restraint and openly grinned.
“Are you two here for the signing?” another passerby asked brightly. “Don’t tell me a crossover is in the works!”
“I’d die if that happens,” someone else said with unbridled excitement. “The Cherry Blossom Adventurer and the Masked Sensei together? Perfection!”
“They do know these are fictional characters and not us, right?” Kakashi muttered to Genma, his voice pitched low, his exasperation barely concealed. Sakura had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Genma, predictably, wasn’t going to let such an opportunity slip by. “Hokage-sama, don’t sell yourself short,” he said, his tone positively dripping with mock reverence. “The Sensual Secrets series practically immortalizes your… er… mystique.”
Sakura snorted before she could stop herself, quickly covering it with a cough.
“Shut up, Genma,” Kakashi snapped, his voice carrying a distinct note of weariness.
“Oh, come on,” Genma pressed, clearly having too much fun. “When else are you going to hear the words ‘sensual’ and ‘mystique’ associated with your name in such glowing terms?”
Kakashi’s hand twitched at his side, as if he were considering whether shoving Genma into a nearby street stall might be worth the scandal. Sakura’s laughter bubbled up again, and this time she didn’t bother to stifle it. Served Kakashi right to experience the discomfort of being mistaken for a fictional character!
The commotion around them grew louder as they approached the main square, and it wasn’t long before the source of the excitement became impossible to miss. Hanging high above the street was a massive banner:
“Welcome, Mikoto Kazehana! Author of Sakura’s Adventures in the Cherry Blossom Land and Sensual Secrets of the Masked Sensei. Book signing tonight at 7pm!”
Genma gave a low whistle. “Well, this is fantastic,” he grinned, his amusement plain. He cast a sidelong glance at both Sakura and Kakashi, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe you two should ask for royalties.”
“Genma,” Kakashi said warningly, his tone a quiet growl.
“Yes, Hokage-sama?” Genma replied innocently, his grin unwavering.
“Shut. Up.”
The group pressed forward, weaving through the crowd as they made their way toward the palace at the far end. The central table under the banner was already covered by stacks of glossy books. Two new volumes. The first depicted a masked man standing heroically under a moonlit sky, his silver hair glinting dramatically, his cloak billowing in the wind. The second featured a pink-haired woman in a flowing cloak (and not a lot of clothes underneath), her hands on her hips as she stood amidst a field of moonlit cherry blossoms that seemed to stretch to eternity.
Put side by side, it looked like the two were facing each other yearningly.
“Now I totally see it!” Genma chirped, nudging Sakura playfully in the ribs. “A crossover would be phenomenal!”
Sakura turned her head slowly to glare at him. “Oh, absolutely,” she said with forced sweetness. “Phenomenal.”
She resolved to make it through the day without losing her temper—or throttling anyone. Especially Mikoto Kazehana, who was definitely going to hear from her about this absurdity.
###
The Fire Daimyo’s palace was as grand and opulent as Sakura had imagined. The polished wood floors of the antechamber gleamed so perfectly that they reflected the towering vases and suits of armor that lined the walls. Scrolls depicting legendary battles and mythic landscapes hung with precise symmetry, their artistry marred only by the faint haze of incense wafting through the air. The cloying scent barely managed to mask something faintly sickly beneath.
They were made to wait for an unreasonably long time.
Genma had initially tried to fill the silence, making light observations about the decor and their journey to the palace. But Kakashi’s silence—so deep and unyielding it felt like a physical wall—soon extinguished the effort. Conversation faded out entirely, leaving the three of them in a tense, oppressive quiet.
Sakura shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the elaborate double doors at the far end of the chamber. The waiting was starting to fray her nerves—not unlikely that was its purpose. The faint sound of voices beyond the doors hinted at activity, but none of it seemed remotely concerned with their presence.
Genma sighed quietly, leaning against one of the ornate pillars. His eyes darted toward Kakashi, then to Sakura, before settling back on the doors. “Maybe they’re deciding if you’re even worth the bother,” he murmured under his breath. “Did you offend him somehow?”
Kakashi didn’t react, though Sakura saw the faintest twitch of his jaw. She opened her mouth to recount Tsunade’s many tales of horror, but before she could, the massive doors creaked open with a deliberate slowness. A herald stepped forward, his expression the epitome of practiced disinterest.
“The Fire Daimyo will see you now,” he intoned, stepping aside to allow them entry. Genma was to wait—no bodyguards except his own allowed in the presence of their leader.
The Fire Daimyo lounged on an ornately carved throne. His silk robes, embroidered with gold and crimson threads, draped around him like a royal cascade, pooling at his feet in a way that seemed more theatrical than practical. Rings adorned nearly every finger, catching the firelight and reflecting it in sharp glints as he shifted slightly.
The air in the room was stifling. An open fire blazed in the massive hearth despite the already oppressive heat. The scent of incense was so thick it made Sakura’s stomach turn. Beneath it lingered a faint, acrid smell—was the Daimyo ill? His pallor, masked by an excess of powder and rouge, hinted at the possibility.
As they approached, the Daimyo’s gaze swept over them, pausing briefly on Kakashi before sliding to Sakura. There, his expression shifted. His thin lips curved into a smile and his tongue darted out to wet them.
“Rokudaime,” the Fire Daimyo intoned, still staring at her. “Is it time already for another report?”
Kakashi inclined his head, his tone even. “Indeed, it has been three months, Daimyo-sama.”
“Yes, yes,” the Daimyo said dismissively, already leaning back in his throne as though the Hokage’s presence bored him. “You’re very dutiful, aren’t you? Is all going well?”
Kakashi nodded, unfazed by the Daimyo’s demeanor, and began his report.
“Daimyo-sama, over the past three months, Konoha has maintained stability across all provinces. Trade routes have been bolstered, with an 8% increase in merchant activity compared to the previous quarter. Some of this is due to the mild winter, of course.”
He paused briefly, ensuring the Daimyo was at least pretending to listen before continuing.
“In addition to maintaining stability, there has been progress in several key areas,” Kakashi said. “Tax revenue has grown by 4.7%, driven by adjustments to export policies on high-demand goods like medicinal herbs and textiles. Additionally, public infrastructure projects—most notably the main road connecting the eastern villages to the capital—are ahead of schedule and within budget. And the academy’s enrollment numbers have risen—an investment in the next generation of shinobi that will benefit the entire country.”
The Daimyo stifled a yawn, waving a hand as if brushing aside the details. “Yes, yes, very good. More children learning to throw kunai and recite jutsu. Your reports always sound the same, Hokage-sama. A tiresome blend of figures and progress.” His gaze focused on Sakura. “I hope your delightful companion has more... engaging stories to share.”
“This is Doctor Sakura Haruno, Director of Konoha’s hospital, lead researcher in medical ninjutsu innovation, and one of the most accomplished kunoichi of her generation,” Kakashi said, his tone sharp and precise. “She’s also a key advisor on matters of public health across the Land of Fire.”
“You don’t say,” the Daimyo drawled. His bored expression gave way to a leering grin as his gaze swept over her with a familiarity that made her skin crawl.
Sakura managed to force a polite smile. “Daimyo-sama, it’s an honor to be here,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral.
The Daimyo leaned forward slightly, his beady eyes sparkling. “Tell me, my dear, do the tales truly do you justice? Are you as clever and enchanting as they claim?” He chuckled. “I’ve read every volume, you know. My favorite is when you escaped the labyrinth of enchanted mirrors—such wit, such beauty!”
Sakura’s jaw tightened, but she managed a tight smile. “You flatter me, Daimyo-sama.”
“And yet,” he continued, his gaze lingering, “I feel the stories only hint at your charms. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me while you’re here?”
Kakashi’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Sakura is here with a petition, Daimyo-sama. We are seeking your counsel for an investment. We….”
The Daimyo waved him off without even glancing in his direction. “Yes, yes, of course. But surely she has a moment to indulge an old man’s curiosity. What say you, my dear? Will you stay for dinner with me?”
Sakura opened her mouth, unsure of how to deflect without outright offending him, when Kakashi stepped forward, his voice a touch sharper now. “Daimyo-sama, it is unfortunate that she is already engaged at the festival tonight,” he said smoothly. “I hope you understand—she cannot let her fans down.”
“Ah,” the Daimyo murmured, nodding with an air of exaggerated understanding. “Yes, then perhaps afterwards…”
“I’m afraid there won’t be an afterwards,” Kakashi interjected. “Because afterwards, she will also be at the festival—with me. I cannot let my fans down either.”
For the first time, the Daimyo turned his gaze fully on Kakashi, his expression twisting into one of mild irritation. The silence stretched for a moment before the Fire Daimyo sighed theatrically, waving a hand as if swatting away an inconvenience. “Oh, very well,” he said dismissively. “I have a headache anyway. Let’s continue this tomorrow.”
Kakashi bowed stiffly, his movements precise. “Thank you for your time, Daimyo-sama. We will be back tomorrow.”
The Daimyo barely inclined his head, his attention already drifting. “Yes, yes. I look forward to seeing more of Sakura,” he added, his tone suggestive. “I really want to get to know her.”
Sakura’s smile didn’t waver, though her fingers curled tightly at her sides. “Of course, Daimyo-sama.”
As they turned to leave, she saw the anger in Kakashi’s eyes—an anger barely kept in check—and that made her hasten her steps, eager to escape the suffocating tension of the chamber and bring some distance between them and their political leader.
Genma waited for them outside, his posture casual until he saw them approach. He fell into step beside them as they walked through the ornate corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly.
“So,” Genma said lightly, breaking the silence, “that didn’t go well?”
Kakashi didn’t answer, his silence like a storm about to break. Sakura exhaled, her shoulders sagging as they exited the oppressive confines of the palace. The fresh air outside felt like a blessing.
“About as well as expected,” she muttered. “He wasn’t particularly receptive.”
Kakashi’s voice, when it came, was low and harsh. “We need to go to the festival together. He’ll have us followed to check.”
Sakura blinked, taken aback. “What?”
He turned to Genma. “He made a pass at Sakura, and none too subtle. I would leave, but he hasn’t let me make a single request yet.”
“Ay,” Genma shook himself. “That’s not good. What's your plan?”
Kakashi ran a hand through his hair, his anger seeping into his words. “Dammit. He’s the kind of slimy bastard who won’t let this drop. If we don’t make it convincing that we’re ‘engaged’ elsewhere like I claimed, he’ll take it as an open invitation to push harder.”
“Well,” Genma huffed. “It could be worse.”
Kakashi shot him an incredulous look. “Really? I don’t think so.”
“We can all go to the festival!” Genma clapped his hands. “It’s actually a holiday!”
“You will go back to the hotel and sit tight,” Kakashi ordered gruffly. He signalled for them to follow him into a back alley where he whistled low and almost immediately, the four ANBU members gathered around them.
“Risu and Taka, escort Genma back to the hotel. Keep an eye out for the foreign shinobi. They’re likely to make another move tonight—try to catch them or at least figure out where they’re from.”
His gaze shifted to Sakura, and he hesitated, as though choosing his next words carefully. “How strong is your Shadow Clone Technique?”
“Passable,” Sakura answered. Better be modest, she hadn’t practiced that technique for ages.
Without wasting time, she formed the necessary hand signs, and with a soft puff of smoke, a perfect replica of herself stood beside her. She glanced toward Kakashi, eyebrows raised slightly. “Good enough?”
He gave a curt nod and formed a clone of his own, which moved to stand next to hers. The clones exchanged brief glances, then turned to face their original counterparts.
Genma observed the clones with arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think the Daimyo’s people will buy this?”
“They will,” Kakashi replied with the unwavering confidence of someone who had never doubted himself. His gaze flicked between the clones. “We just have to ensure they stick close together.”
“And…” Sakura hesitated, her stomach twisting. “What about us?”
Kakashi didn’t respond immediately. Then, without warning, he grabbed her hand. “We run,” he said simply, and before she could process his words, they were off, speeding across the rooftops with a velocity that stole the breath from her lungs.
The buildings blurred beneath them as they leapt from one to the next. Finally, Kakashi slowed, stopping at a quiet section of the city. They landed lightly in a deserted street, far from the bustling festival.
“Wait here,” Kakashi instructed. He disappeared into a nearby, slightly run-down house, leaving Sakura standing alone.
Sakura worked to steady her breathing, trying to focus on the present rather than the jumble of questions and emotions swirling in her mind. She forced herself not to overthink or speculate.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and someone stepped out. But it wasn’t Kakashi.
“Sukea?!” Sakura gasped.