Disclaimer: Would love to own Naruto; but hey, when does life ever give you what you want?

Author's Notes: Finals are coming up, and I'm writing like my life depends on it. Hell can come after. For now, have your daily dose of not-so angst and those infuriating hints of KakaSaku-ness.

Her hair has grown just past her shoulders, and gets into her way when she's on a documenting spree. It's still as pink as ever though, unfortunately. This morning, she's finally decided to bundle it up into a small ponytail at the back of her head. Of course, the stubborn strands still manage to escape and fall back down to frame her face. She lets out a soft sigh – her hair is just as stubborn as she can be, at times. Her eye-bags aren't that obvious today, because Shishou had forced her out of the hospital the day before, and she'd gotten a full day of much-needed sleep. The shower has done wonders to her spirits as well, because she always feels better when she smells of strawberries.

Her trusty kunai are slipped into their usual places in her thigh holster, more out of habit than anything else. She hasn't been promoted to jounin status just yet even after so many years, but it doesn't bother her, really. Not anymore. Besides, she's still young – just turned twenty-one – and there's still so much to learn. She knows that her chakra-manipulating skills might even be better than some on the ANBU squad, and so is her precision in throwing weaponry. Sewing up wounds is like second nature to her now, and she can probably do it blindfolded. Not that she'll ever do it, though, because she cares too much about her patients to do so. So yes, she's aware of her talents and the things she's good at, so there's really no haste to get recognition through status changes.

Breakfast is ramen, in memory of Naruto. She doesn't cry anymore, because her tear glands have long run dry. It's a good thing, because she can now eat her curry ramen in peace without flooding it with tears. Slurping had never been her style, because she'd cared too much about her image. Nowadays, she figures if she can look like shit while working overtime on some surgery, she can slurp as loudly as she wants, too. The sound makes her think of her blond team-mate and his sunny grins, and she can't help but want to smile as well.

Ino tells her it's stupid to be doing things that Naruto used to do, because it'll never bring him back. She knows her friend is right, but she can't help it. So she points out that staring at shadows all day long isn't going to revive Shikamaru either, making Ino purse her lips and stalk off with a huff.

She's also been incorporating a bit of Sasuke into her life, subconsciously. The cold glares that she gives to unwanted visitors to her workplace and nurses who don't do their work send shivers down spines, earning her the title of Ice Bitch. She doesn't deny that it's a little hurting because no one really appreciates that sort of nickname, but most of her just thinks it's rather amusing – she'd learnt from the best, after all. She's also learnt how to keep her temper under reins and to stay calm whenever necessary – she thanks her unfriendly team-mate for this, because it's a skill that a medic should have.

Lee told her once that she can't go on living for the three of them, but she thinks otherwise. It's not exactly tiring, and it keeps her sane – she doesn't tell him that before this, she used to have hallucinations of her two boys bickering at her dinner table as she calmly cut her omelet into two, or have them whispering battle moves every time she sparred with someone. Ever since she started adding bits of their personalities and habits into her own behavior, the ghosts have stopped visiting, because they're not afraid that she's going to forget them. She can't anyway, because they've already embedded themselves into her lifestyle.

The empty bowl of ramen is left in her sink to be washed with the other dishes later today – for now, she has more important things to do.

It's already eight-thirty in the morning, but it's still quite dark outside. Might just be a coincidence, but every time she goes to the memorial monument, the sky is overcast. Rather suiting for the mood, she supposes. If she's lost the ability to cry, the sky can cry in her stead. The journey isn't long, but she takes her time because the walk to the monument is always enriching. She mostly recollects about the times of Team 7 and after during these times – it's quite similar to revising before going for a test. There are happy memories and sad ones, and she never gets to remember all of them by the time she reaches the carved stone. This never fails to put a smile on her face, because it's affirmation that the three of them have been through a lot together.

She never brings flowers, because neither of the boys had ever liked flowers. The pollen made Naruto sneeze, and Sasuke just didn't like a lot of things in general. Her skirt flutters a little as she kneels down at the base of the stone – there is no need to look for their names, because she knows exactly where they are, simply by intuition. They are side by side, somewhere near the middle. Trust them to be conspicuous even in death. She runs her index finger across their carved names and closes her eyes. As usual, she doesn't feel a hot rush towards her head, or a painful knot in her heart. All these have ceased when they'd slipped themselves into her behavior, because there's no need to be sad if they're with her, always.

It doesn't come as a surprise to her when she feels another presence behind her. She'd figured it out a while back that his excuses for coming late are all fraud (who wouldn't guess?) and the real reason is that he always forgets time when he visits the memorial. No words are exchanged, and a comfortable silence settles over them – they've done this many times before.

He doesn't kneel down, because the names of his own team-mates are higher up. Too many shinobi have died, since then. It's ironic that the two people who feel that they should've died a long time ago, are still living and staring at the memorial as it fills up bit by bit. Unlike her, he has a bunch of flowers in his hand – this he sets down at the bottom. For the girl, she guesses, but doesn't ask. She has enough faith in him to tell her whatever she needs to know.

"Nice hair," he compliments her, as though he's asking for the time or talking about the weather. She laughs, and looks a bit more like Sakura and a little less like Naruto-Sasuke-Sakura.

"Lots of girls would die to have you say that, sensei," she chides lightly in return. Playful banter – an aspect of her original personality, one that only surfaces when she's with her ex-teacher.

His eye crinkles in response to her comeback – a smile. He says nothing, because he knows that she knows that he means what he says, with her.

Standing, she only barely reaches his neck in terms of height. Naruto and Sasuke would probably be towering over her too, if they hadn't gone and died on her. She brushes the dust off her clothes and turns to glance at her ex-sensei.

He's the only one who doesn't comment on the way her deceased team members have started appearing in her personality, or the way she works herself to death sometimes, or the fact that she just can't let go of Team 7. He understands, because he's been experiencing the same thing for more than twenty years – he probably has it much worse than she does; because essentially, a part of his body does belong to Obito. Obito-Rin-Kakashi. (Personally, he prefers Rin-Obito-Kakashi.) The hallucinations, the hundred-and-eighty degree changes in certain aspects of their characters – she actually feels normal when she's around him, because they're so similar.

"Care for a little sparring match?" she asks easily, because she knows he'll never be the one requesting and he can never say no.

Later on, when he has her in a firm headlock, she realizes that it's only when they're with each other that they can forget their ghostly companions and simply be themselves – just Sakura and Kakashi.