Trinity

A/N: Well, it's been a while for this one, hasn't it. Just sort of lost track of how much I'd been writing it, and ended up with 10 pages rather than the usual 7. So now I want you all to just sit back and relax, and enjoy the chapter, even if it is a bit of a transitional one.

--

Chapter 5: Wandering Spirit

The day was beginning to turn dark with the arrival of a line of dark gray storm clouds, their burdens of rain filling them near to bursting, and dark eyes surveyed the countryside. It had been long since such a storm had been seen here. Their stronghold, and the surrounding villages, had been devoid of conflict for nearly a year, and only small raiding parties were needed to keep the neighboring communities from encroaching upon their domain. Uchiha Sasuke could tell that something was about to happen. For one thing, all that Sakura had told him the previous week had been preying on his mind, and there was little that he could do to stop the feelings of foreboding from creeping in.

This foul weather was doing nothing to lift his spirits, either. As he scrutinized the horizon, he took in the subdued greens of the grass hills, and the glint of the gray sky on the waters of the rice fields. The scene would have been natural, almost serene, had recent events not…the ring of steel on steel sounded, drawing his attention to the east.

Strangely, he saw that there was smoke coming from the roof-hole at the rear of Umino Iruka’s house. Among the largest of the quarters allotted to their vassals, the weapon-smith’s abode was composed of four rooms. The front room was where most of his guests were greeted, and were meals were taken if he was unable to dine with the rest of the household. Two smaller rooms were dedicated to sleeping and storage, but the final—and by far the largest—room was the forge itself. The smoke-hole in the roof over the forge belched forth steam and the dark gray vapors of burning coals, telling the story of activities within.

His eyes narrowed, continuing to gaze outward at the billowing clouds of smoke. The hammer’s rhythmic clang on the steel Iruka worked set the pace for his breathing, and soon, his heartbeat. Often in his younger years, he and Naruto and were found visiting with the scarred man, soaking in his common-sense wisdom and ready smile. Umino Iruka was a haven for them, and later for Sakura as well. He was one of the few people in whom the three young people had complete trust. And it was this fact that made him wonder what exactly was going on in that house.

--

Naruto leaned against the thick upright pillar that helped to hold up the roof over the porch. Sakura’s wide blue umbrella protected her from the rain that had begun to fall, and in spite of the squelching mud, she walked gracefully in the platform sandals designed to keep her feet dry. Ever since that day when that mischievous spirit had attacked her, he had not allowed her out of his sight. Well, he had been forced to do so when she had the need to dress herself, but otherwise, she remained with him. He had made a promise to a god, and by all the Heavens, he would keep it!

His enthusiasm did vex her somewhat, however she might appreciate his concern, and he understood, for the most part. After all, how was one to go through life with a shadow that was armed to the teeth? But he did not understand some of the things she had been forced to tell them. For instance, when pressed, she had told Sasuke-dono about the events that had transpired with Itachi. While Sasuke had been horrified, and wanted to murder his brother for his boldness, Naruto had scolded Sakura harshly.

His voice lowered, not wanting anyone else to hear his words, “Have you any idea what he would have done to you if your control over him had slipped?” Green eyes widened, and Sakura shied away slightly. Naruto grasped her arm, drawing her closer so that he could hiss, “He would have taken you, Sakura. That is not allowed. You know this.”

The shorter woman had wrenched away from him, eyes quickly beginning to blaze in righteous anger. “I am well aware of that, Naruto. You need not remind me of my folly. But I cannot simply cry out, waiting for you or Sasuke-dono to rescue me. I am not some helpless female that needs the protection of men. If it had come to it, I have sufficient training to deal with the advances of any man.”

That statement was something that the blue-eyed man had protested, but she had answers for all of his excuses. In the end, he had been forced to concede the point, though he would gladly have burst into the elder Uchiha’s rooms, and finding every possible opportunity to teach him the meaning of the word ‘pain’.

Now he simply stood by as she fetched the water for their tea. Yesterday, he had offered to help, and his arm still stung from where she had jabbed him with one of her needles. Sighing, he turned his eyes away from her for a moment. The sky was angry, the wind beginning to rise, blowing down from the hills. With it, he heard something that sounded almost like the tinkling of small bells.

Immediately, his left hand moved to push at the bottom of his sheathed sword, causing the razor-edged weapon to jump slightly in the scabbard. Naruto’s right hand grasped the hilt and drew the sword completely, eyes scanning the gaps between the buildings to the east. Sakura stood motionless, her hand poised on the rope of the well bucket. So she heard it, too…

--

At first, she thought that it was her imagination. It was like the ringing of small chimes, or the little bells she’d worn on her ankles as a toddler so that her mother always knew where she was. The tiny sound had soon stopped, and another came from behind her. Sakura heard the shake and slide of Naruto unsheathing his sword, and her eyes narrowed in the direction of the offending noise. What on earth was it?

“Sakura,” Naruto’s voice came from closer than she had thought it should, and for good reason. He appeared at her right, the driving rain already beginning to mat his hair down. Blue eyes were half-closed against the water threatening to flow into them, and they focused on the gap between the kitchen building and the main house. Understanding the need for caution, she slowly released her hold on the rope, allowing the bucket to lower back into the well. Taking a few steps back toward the porch, Sakura made to give Naruto room to work, if the need should arise.

The rain created a sort of gray haze over the entire courtyard, making it difficult to discern precisely when the vague figure appeared. Sakura could see that it was a man from the uncommon stature, and longer strides the interloper used to approach. Slowly, as she watched, the man came into greater detail. She could make out dark robes as he cleared the first corner of the kitchen building, the purple of the wide sash thrown over one shoulder had nearly become as black as the rest of the man’s attire. The source of the original disturbance was revealed soon thereafter, as the dull glint of bronze shone from the top of the staff he carried.

“Tch,” Naruto muttered, “it’s a monk.” His tone was filled with disdain. In the past, they had played host to several wandering monks, none of which were anywhere near as noble as they should be. Sakura could hear his grip tighten, the leather grip on the sword hilt creaking.

“There is no need for violence, friend,” the tall man spoke in deep, amiable tones as he pulled his dark hood back to reveal a youthful face half-hidden by hair that had gone prematurely silver. As he came to a stop, the monk leaned on his staff, causing the rings to jingle. Offering a smile and a short bow, he continued, “I come only to ask temporary shelter from this rain. Any bed or hayloft will do…you need not even give me food.”

Sakura watched the man carefully, taking in each tiny nuance of movement, each flicker of his gaze. He addressed Naruto, and did not look at her directly. This fact caused Sakura to wonder if shelter was all he wanted. Avoidance of eye contact was as good as an admission of guilt, as far as she was concerned. What this man could be guilty of, she had no clue, but whatever it might be, she did not want to find out at the moment. Her parasol was getting soaked, and she had no desire to get wet. Sighing, she walked forward, placing a hand on Naruto’s arm.

“Perhaps we should take him to Sasuke-dono, Naruto-kun…before we are all soaked to the bone?” With a grunt, Naruto sheathed his weapon and had Sakura lead the way back to their room. She left the foul-weather sandals on the right side of the steps, and padded along in stocking feet before kneeling outside the door. Grasping the rail, Sakura slowly slid the partition aside. Her eyes fastened firmly on the floor in front of her knees, Sakura said gently, “Sasuke-dono, there is an itinerant monk seeking shelter. Will you see him?”

Her master stood at the window, looking out at the rain. When he turned, he gave a very slight nod and seated himself on one of the cushions around the small lacquered table. After his clothing was arranged, Sakura heard wet, sloshing sounds which she took to be the monk’s footsteps. Sliding backward on her knees, the young woman took a moment to think. What, if anything, was this man here for? The monk’s footfalls stopped directly in front of the open door.

Bowing deeply, the man addressed Sasuke. “Honorable host,” said the monk in a deep, rolling baritone, “I have come seeking shelter from the rain.” Sakura saw a small puddle forming around his muddy feet, and wondered how far he had come, walking in the rain without stopping beneath even the meager protection a tree might provide. This was a strange man, to say the least.

She did not need to look up at her master to see his eyes narrow. It was clear from his tone of voice that he held suspicion for outsiders, just as Naruto did. “And what is your name, holy man?”

“Hatake Kakashi, young master, at your service.” Sakura chanced a look up at the man, who was still bowing. In profile, his face was impassive, the line of his jaw relaxed. There was something odd, a quality that she could not place…

“Well, then, houshi-san,” Sasuke said in a thoughtful voice, “You are welcome to this house, for the duration of the rain.” Fabric rustled for a moment before she found herself looking at her master’s feet. “Sakura, if you please, take this gentleman to a room, and give him something dry to wear. Later, if it please you, houshi-san, join us for dinner.”

Though his answer surprised, her, she bowed her head and replied, “Yes, Sasuke-dono.” Rising smoothly, Sakura led the way, hearing the wet-plopping footsteps of the monk only a few feet behind her. Naruto walked silently, but was certainly following. He had said he was not letting her out of his sight. As sweet as this might be, it was impractical. He was supposed to be Sasuke-dono’s bodyguard, after all, and it was unseemly that Naruto was protecting her instead. When she reached the guest quarters, she knelt and slid open the door to the first room she approached. “Please step inside, houshi-sama.”

He did as she asked, and Naruto entered after the man. Sakura went to the trunk against one wall after entering and sliding the door shut. From this, she drew a plain gray sleeping yukata. Once it was shaken out and draped over the stand in the corner, she moved to help the monk out of his clothing. Coughing lightly, the man stammered, “I can do this myself, thank you.”

Nodding silently, Sakura stepped back. She was completely unperturbed that he was being slightly rude, but she had dealt with people that were far worse. After waiting a moment, she asked, “Is there anything you need before I take my leave?”

“No,” he said slowly, his voice seeming to creep like cold syrup, “I believe that I am fine.”

Withdrawing politely, Sakura made her way back to the courtyard steps, Naruto in tow. “What do you think about that monk, Sakura?” came her companion’s voice. She honestly did not know how to respond. Certainly, he did not seem very suspicious. He had done nothing to deserve censure. But there was a strangeness about him that drew her attention. Then there was the fact that his eyes avoided her. Hatake Kakashi had not once even turned his eyes to examine her face. Usually, when a man met her, she could feel the weight of his eyes. They would either crawl over her in that disgusting, lingering way, or quickly examine her for potential threats.

Shaking her head as she picked up another parasol, Sakura said, “I do not know, Naruto.”

“He is…” Naruto trailed off, seemingly uncertain of what he wanted to say.

“Strange,” Sakura said as she slipped on her sandals, once again intent upon getting water from the well.

--

Kakashi leaned heavily against the heavy oak doorframe. By sliding back the door a fraction of an inch, he watched as she left. “Sakura,” the name rolled off of his tongue, fitting her, and yet insufficient to truly describe her grace and beauty. He had been sure not to look directly at her, uncertain of what might occur if he did.

The faint perfume she wore still clung to the air of the room, and he breathed it in. As he did, Kakashi found that he wanted the rain to last. As long as he had the opportunity to remain close to her, he could help protect her. And all the gods help him, but he wanted to do so much more than that. His fingers worked at the knots in his sash, now much more difficult to untie since it was saturated in water. After three tries at the very first knot, they fumbled ineffectually, his mind utterly distracted.

Something like the scent of jasmine, with a hint of spiciness filled his head, clouding his thoughts. How long he stood there, Kakashi did not know.

--

Iruka sat back, exhausted. The forge glowed red, heat filling the room. For the time being, the blades were finished. He’d worked like a man possessed, and for three days, he did not sleep or eat. All that remained was to sharpen the blades, and mount them in hilts. When that was done, there would only be the sheaths, and his masterwork would be complete. As proud as he was of his creations, Iruka had a strange sense of foreboding every time he turned his eyes to where they lay.

A voice in the back of his head told him that he must cast them back into the fire. That no matter what he might think, these blades would be used for some evil purpose. But when one thought hard enough, was that not what all weapons were? They were but instruments of death. These two particular were the most beautiful, the most graceful. Beauty and death, in the same space. It was a sad, but necessary truth.

--

At the setting of the sun, the Uchiha household began to glow with the lights of candles and lamps. It was always a beautiful thing to see, especially when the rains came. Sakura took a moment, standing on the porch of the kitchen building, to watch as the house came to life. Like a many-eyed being from some fantastical universe, the thin paper windows winked alight. A tiny smile came across her face, and she turned once more on her errand. Kurenai would be expecting her.

Sliding open the door to the main kitchen room, Sakura ducked inside. Kurenai, widow of one of Uchiha Fugauku’s most loyal vassals, was the taskmistress here. She bustled from person to person, ensuring that quality was maintained. The soup was steaming in the main pot, while the rice was being stirred to cool in a corner. When she noticed the new arrival, she immediately moved toward the door.

“Sakura, dear, where have you been?” Kurenai asked, placing one well-worn hand on her arm.

Sakura ducked her head in apology. “I was taking care of a new guest. There is a monk staying with us, Kurenai. He is in one of the guest rooms.” The older woman nodded, but Sakura could see how disinterested she was. Honestly, Kurenai had no need of monks, because they had no effect on her work. Sakura quickly tied back her sleeves and set to work spooning small amounts of pickled radishes onto tiny plates for dinner, dropping the subject. One of the younger girls giggled, and asked if the monk was handsome.

“Well,” Sakura paused in the act of scooping the radishes from the large bowl in which they had been prepared, “I suppose so…but I did not see his entire face. He had hair hanging over the left side of it, so he might be scarred or deformed for all I know. Now get back to work before Kurenai-san sees you slacking off.” The girl jumped, immediately moving to stir the soup once more.

--

Finally, his clothes were dry. He’d had to get one of the maids to build a fire in the small pit at the room’s center so that he could hang up his robes and dry them. The black cloth slid over his skin the way it always had, and he belted his usual kimono around him with relief. The yukata Sakura had given him to wear smelled musty, but still held the barely-there remnants of her perfume. His mind had been clouded, and it was difficult to think with that scent so near. Now, as he tied the dark purple sash over his shoulder, Kakashi felt more centered. By his estimation, while he had been meditating, sunset had arrived no more than one hour earlier. The stars would not be visible after the evening meal, with all of the rain. How he wished to consult them, to discover his best course of action.

Once he re-checked the knots he had just completed, he pulled on his tabi, and moved toward the door. Laying a hand on the sliding partition, he was ready to push it aside when he heard voices just outside.

“Please,” a feminine voice said, sounding not a little angry, “let me go.”

There was a quick scuffling of feet, and a dull thud to the right of the door, as if a body was shoved against the wall. A growling masculine voice came just after the thud. “You will do as I say, woman…or—“

“Or what?” There was a sneering quality to the woman’s slightly muffled voice now. “Or you’ll hit me? Itachi-sama will please pardon me for wishing to laugh. Hurting me will only bring you pain. Perhaps not upon the initial strike…no. But later, certainly.”

This Itachi said, “I think that I should tell my brother what you did, Sakura. How do you think he would react to the knowledge that you practically raped me?” Kakashi’s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Sakura’s name, and suddenly narrowed at the subject matter of the conversation. Had she really—his thoughts were cut off suddenly when a very un-ladylike bark of laughter came from the other side of the door.

In a tone full of certainty, Sakura said, “Sasuke-dono knows exactly what happened that night,” Kakashi blinked slowly, listening intently for any clues as to the man’s reaction. He only heard the rustle of fabric. “He knows, and there is nothing that you can do to keep us from each other, Itachi-sama. Now, if you please, I have to return to the kitchen.”

A sound like something heavy falling against the plank floor of the porch came, followed immediately by the splash of water. “You will do no such thing.” Itachi’s voice was menacing now, and cloth rustled once more, before he heard a pained whimper from the woman being accosted. “I will do now what I should have done that night…” Feet scuffled, and Kakashi heard grunts of exertion.

“Let me go, you—ah! No! Ita—mrph!” Sakura’s voice had been desperate before she’d been cut off. Kakashi was decently certain that there was no raping on her part, current or otherwise. On the other hand, that seemed to be precisely what Itachi—whomever he was—had in mind. Taking up his staff, he slid the door open, and stepped out, casually looking around.

A film of red slid over his vision when he saw a tall man with long, dark hair using his mouth to silence the protests of a struggling woman. One hand grasped both of her wrists above her head, holding her in place against the wall while the other had pushed up the skirt of the green kimono she wore. Pale legs were bared to the knee. The man sensed his approach, and pulled his face away from Sakura’s to look at him. Red eyes that were eerily familiar glared at him. “What are you looking at?” Kakashi said nothing for a moment, and those crimson eyes narrowed. “This does not concern you, monk. Walk away.”

At this last statement, Sakura’s head whipped around, eyes growing large, her face beginning to turn bright red. He could now see that the green silk of her kimono was hanging off of one shoulder, and that there was a bruise developing on the skin of her chest. One silvery brow rose, and his eyes looked once again at the man that had just issued the command.

“My apologies, sir, but I am afraid that I cannot.”

A growl emitted from the dark-haired man. “Do not make me hurt you, houshi-san. You have no quarrel with me, neither do I with you.”

Leaning casually on his staff, and listening idly to the rings jingle, Kakashi smiled, aware that it was merely a showing of teeth. “I am, once again, quite sorry. I will not allow you to continue to molest this young lady. She quite obviously does not desire your attention, and has other things she would prefer to be doing. Why do you not let her go?”

Anger flared across the youth’s face, a cold expression. “You leave me with no choice, do you?” He pushed away from his prey, and said, “Do not move, Sakura. I will return to you in a moment.” Kakashi watched Itachi draw his sword. “Come, monk.”

“You do not have to do this, young man.” Kakashi said, trying to avoid fighting if possible. He had no wish to reveal the nature of his presence here so quickly.

“Stand ready, or be cut down.” Suddenly, and with terrifying speed, the red-eyed man moved forward. His blade flew in a wicked arc, which Kakashi made a show of parrying, attempting as best he could to make it appear difficult. Disengaging, Itachi backed away a couple of steps, circling him. “Lucky,” came his feral growl, “you have good reflexes…but they will not save you old man.”

“Old?” sneered the monk. “How old would you say I am, boy?” He thrust the head of his staff at the other’s pale face, and then swung downward as Itachi attempted to evade his attack.

“I don’t know…about fifty?” The smile on the younger man’s face was vicious, and Kakashi knew he was being baited. Well, perhaps he could drop a little bit of information, just to trip up his opponent.

“Would it interest you to know my true age?” He teased, knowing the boy would not answer, and unable to bring himself to care as the blade was thrust at his midsection. Dodging it, he said easily, “I am only twenty-four.” Itachi paused for a moment, which was all Kakashi needed. He swung his staff once more, but rather than striking, he used it in a different way. The blade of Itachi’s sword went through the circle of bronze at the staff’s head, and Kakashi twisted the wooden shaft. The katana flew from the other man’s hands, and the monk grasped it easily with one of his, pulling it out of the staff head.

He threw it into the darkness. “Now sir, if you please…leave.”

Itachi’s lip curled in disdain and he looked close to a rage. “This is far from over, houshi-san.” With that, he was gone.

Immediately, the monk turned to Sakura, who was staring dumbly at him. Against his better judgement, Kakashi moved toward her. He leaned his staff against the wall, and pulled the kimono back into place over her shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asked, avoiding her eyes while attempting to make it look as if he were not.

“I…yes.” She said quietly. And then rather unexpectedly, “Why do you not look at me? You have not looked at me at all.”

Father…you work in strange ways…

“I should not.” He said simply, feeling his body begin to tense.

“Look at me.”

“No.” He wanted to look. Wanted to see her eyes, what lay behind them. The urge was so strong, and yet he knew that he should do nothing of the sort.

“Look at me!” Sakura hissed, her voice angry, and taking on a note of command that he had not expected. Involuntarily, Kakashi found himself staring directly into the greenest eyes he had ever seen. They were deep, like a forest pool, yet sharp as a jade knife. Something inside him screamed that he must let her go, leave her there and walk away. Another part of him wanted to hold her and make certain that no one would ever touch her again. Sakura blinked at him in confusion before he heard a whispered question. “Who are you?”

“I…” his voice trailed off, unable as he was to think. “I am yours.” To do with as you wish, for as long as I live.

--

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat. Why could she not look away from this man? He loomed over her, dwarfing her, and yet she did not feel threatened. His hands still touched her, gently resting on her shoulders, but Sakura did not feel uncomfortable. And when he said “I am yours,” there was something warm in the pit of her stomach. It was strange and familiar at the same time.

“Have…have we met before now?” She asked, still staring up at him. He only shook his head. “Then why do I feel as if I should know you?” The monk said nothing. She saw in his one visible eye a look that revealed volumes. She reached up, her right hand gently brushing aside soft, silvery hair. The eye hidden behind that mass of hair was not dark blue like the other, but a dull red, and a scar ran over his cheek and eyelid. Someone had nearly taken that eye out with a blade.

Tracing the scar with a fingertip, Sakura nearly gasped when the monk leaned into her touch. His eyes closed, and she found herself smiling. Mismatched eyes opened once again, and suddenly looked away. “Forgive me…” whispered the tall man as he backed unsteadily away. His manner became highly distracted as Sakura watched him trying not to look at her face. He continued to backtrack, repeating his apology.

“Wait, please…” she called as he reached the edge of the dim pool of light in which she stood. He paused, eyes on the ground. “Come back, houshi-san.” For a long moment, he merely stood there. Then, he began to approach, but stopped at a respectful distance. “Come closer.” He edged a bit nearer, but not enough. Annoyed, she closed the distance between them, stopping only a few feet away. “Please allow me to introduce myself properly,” she said quietly, “I am Haruno Sakura, chief maid to Uchiha Sasuke, second son of Uchiha Fugaku.” Sakura gave a deep, formal bow, hands sliding along the front of her thighs until they reached her knees. “Thank you for leaving your room when you did. If you had not…”

Sakura straightened, but cast her eyes away from him. Sudden shame filled her, though she did not understand why. “I am called Hatake Kakashi. I wander, and read the stars. And I would not have left you to the mercy of that man, whoever he was.” He had not bowed, but inclined his head in a very dignified and subtle way that spoke of a good upbringing for all of his vague talk. Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw him bend down to pick up the bucket she’d dropped. “Allow me to escort you to the kitchen, Haruno-san.”

Sakura found a smile crossing her face, in spite of the awkward feelings she had. “Thank you, Hatake-san.”

--

Itachi watched as Sakura chatted genially with the monk that had taken refuge from the rain, which did not seem wont to end any time soon. He noticed the slightly suspicious looks the older man was receiving from Sasuke, and from Naruto as well, but had yet to decide if it would be wise to use that mistrust to his benefit. His younger brother seemed to think of the woman as his personal property, and his bodyguard was worse. They never seemed to be away from her, save for when she was coerced into performing household duties that involved being in the kitchens. It would be unseemly for Sasuke to be in the kitchen building, unless he was there to scold someone, and Naruto was only supposed to keep watch over Sasuke. That, however, did not seem to keep the blue-eyed man from pestering Sakura day and night.

Inwardly, he seethed at the familiar way Sakura regarded the tall monk. She was seated between the guest and Umino Iruka, who watched her conversation with mild interest. His eyes narrowed, only a fraction of a hair, but he had to catch himself from showing his distaste any further. That monk wanted killing.