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The first thing she smells is blood.
The second thing she smells is mint, but it's so buried beneath the first scent that she almost misses it.
She follows the heavy smell, walking into the woods and away from where she'd originally wanted to go. She briefly wonders why someone from the academy would be out here and not in the infirmary, and tries to stamp down on the rising suspicion in her gut. Surely no one would try to do THAT.
Her worst fear is confirmed, however, when she rounds a tree and finds someone slumped over, pale and glassy eyed and bleeding from his wrists. Rage spikes in her chest and she hisses, grabbing his hand. She doesn't want to do this-she hasn't tasted a comrade's blood in over ten years, and she'd intended to keep it that way for the rest of her life. But she can't let this person die, either, so she takes a deep breath and pools saliva on her tongue before leaning down and dragging it over the largest gash.
The tangy flavor explodes across her tongue and she gags at the strength of the sudden despair pooling in her gut. She has to turn away and take a deep breath before continuing, to force away the emotions that are being conveyed through this man's blood. With each lick, more skin heals over and more blood mixes around in her mouth, and no matter how much she tries to spit it out she's still somewhat overwhelmed by the hollowness she feels in him; how it hurts so much that she's beginning to not feel anything anymore. She understands, but she's still enraged.
It's another couple minutes before the skin on his left forearm is healed enough to stop bleeding. She switches hands, prepares for another wave of hurt, and then begins to heal the cuts on his right wrist. He's beginning to wake up from his haze, and he weakly tries to struggle. She's much stronger than he is, though, since she's NOT dangerously anemic and apathetic as a corpse.
"Stop moving," she snarls, and there's fire in her eyes when she looks at him. "Are you stupid?" She spits a glob of blood onto the dirt, and his lone eye widens. "I'm not letting you kill yourself, you irresponsible twat. Hold still."
He stops trying to pull his arm away, but opens his mouth with a raspy whisper. "Why.." He drags in a deep, shuddering breath and tries again. "Why are you... helping?"
He sees the stranger growl through another lick and he tries to pretend he doesn't feel better each time she does this.
"Because suicide isn't the answer," she snaps. When he attempts to protest she cuts him off, "No. It's the cowardly way out. You can't run away like this. It's selfish." She laps at the last cut, and he watches in faint amazement as the skin stitches itself together, albeit slowly. Finally she heaves a sigh and takes his other arm, dragging him to his feet. He can't support himself and he staggers forward before she catches him. "You're an idiot," she says again, but it doesn't matter.
He's already passed out on her shoulder, so she angrily blows her blue bangs out of her eyes and trudges home.
******
He wakes to the sound of laughter.
But for the first time in what seems like his whole life, it's not scornful.
His eyes open slowly, bringing an unfamiliar room into view and suddenly he thinks that he's dead. Maybe this time he succeeded, he really hopes for a moment-but then he realizes that if he really was dead, he wouldn't feel so empty inside.
Besides, he doesn't recognize the laughter he's hearing, so either he's in hell or he's still alive. He wishes he could laugh at the irony.
After a moment of debating on whether or not he should just try to go back to sleep, a little part of him that he didn't know was still alive-curiosity, he thinks briefly-urges him to sit up and find a window. His movements are soft, but slow, as if each step might break him. In his condition, it's not outside the realm of possibility.
He finally makes it to the only window in the dull, bare room. He looks outside, and his eyes widen-he can't help his reaction, he was not expecting this at all.
That blue haired girl is out in the lawn, playing with two kids, and laughing. Laughing! He'd never seen her so much as crack a smile, and yet here she was, rolling around in the dirt with a blonde girl and a redhead teen. He realizes after a moment that the girl is the headmistress's niece, and the boy is Gaara of the Sand. He realizes a moment later that his mouth is hanging open in the shock he would normally feel. He closes it, wondering how he's reacting to emotions he isn't feeling.
"Gotcha!" The little blonde girl-Zoe, he remembers vaguely-giggles, wrapping her arms around the blue girl's neck and shoulders. The girl fakes a cry and falls onto her back, and Gaara takes the opportunity to pin her arms and stomach to the ground.
"Tap out!" The boy grins, pale green eyes narrowing playfully. The blue haired girl pouts and sighs, tapping the ground with her right hand. Kakashi wonders why she doesn't use her legs to overturn both kids.
"Alright, you got me," she admits, but there's a proud note to her voice and Kakashi can't recall if he's ever seen any of these kids this happy. Bitterness wells up inside his chest for a minute, until he recognizes it as longing and promptly squashes it. He has no right to feel this way, not after all he's done. He's pulled out of his morbid thoughts when the blue haired girl gets to her feet. He still doesn't know her name.
"Let's play again!" Zoe cheers, smile growing when the older girl ruffles her hair. Gaara nods eagerly.
"I think it's time for you guys to head back," the oldest replies, smiling a bit at their disappointed expressions. Before either of them can protest, she looks up and waves at the trees. Everyone turns, where a very famous redhead is approaching with another familiar blond in tow.
"Naruto!" Gaara grins, running over and throwing his arms around the other boy, who quickly returns the hug with equal enthusiasm.
"Thank you for watching over them today," Sasori smiles, and Kakashi is beginning to think that maybe he actually is dead. Since when an S-rank criminal is warm and friendly, he doesn't know. But the blue haired girl just waves him off, accepting the hug all three kids immediately give her.
"It's my pleasure. Come by again."
"Tomorrow??"
The blue haired girl puts her hands on her hips and tries to look stern. Kakashi thinks she looks slightly terrifying, but the kids don't seem to notice. "Not until you've all finished your tests," she says, and the kids slump forward in defeat and groan. She smiles. "I expect you all to pass, got it?"
The kids all look confused, but it's Gaara that speaks first. "Where will you be?"
The older girl sighs. "I have some things here I need to take care of." It takes a minute for Kakashi to grimly realize that he's one of those things.
"We must go," Sasori cuts in as the kids start to bombard the girl with questions. "The others are waiting."
Five minutes and several loud goodbyes later, the girl stands alone in her yard, staring at the spot in the forest where the others disappeared. Then she turns, and Kakashi decides that he doesn't want her to find him by the window and instead makes his way back to his bed. He's just sitting down when the bedroom door opens, and she walks in, almost immediately making eye contact.
"How are your arms?"
He's slightly taken aback at her question and it's then that he remembers what had happened the night before. For some reason, he can't bring himself to care. "… They're fine," he forces out, unused to talking in this state, and almost winces at how rough he sounds. However, the girl merely rolls her silver eyes and steps closer, pulling up his left sleeve to see for herself.
It's covered in scrapes he doesn't remember inflicting, and his stomach sinks a bit. The girl just sighs. "Must've been a hell of a dream," she mutters, then straightens, still holding his arm. He doesn't get it at first. Then he realizes that she means he scratched himself while asleep, and he suddenly can't meet her gaze. "Come," she orders, "I need to wrap those, and my medical kit's in the kitchen." She tugs him to his feet, where he follows slightly bewildered. There is anger in her tone, in her eyes even, but no scorn, which is throwing him for a loop. Even Gai has some pity for him. How can she be so unbiased?
"Who are you?" He finds himself asking as they walk into the kitchen. She glances back, eyeing him curiously while she pulls out her kit. She silently pulls up both his sleeves. He's about to ask her again when she decides to speak.
"Used to go here as a kid. Back then, I was known as Thorne." She smears salve across a larger scratch before winding the bandages down his forearm, adding more salve where it's needed. Kakashi tries to ignore how she seems to be working more from habit than skill.
"And now?" He asks, because he may be way apathetic right now but he can still recognize past tense.
She looks a bit surprised, then snorts. "I guess you can call me Cricket."
The silver haired shifter blinks. "Cricket?" He asks, and he feels a tendril of amusement blooming in his chest, but he ignores it in favor of watching her move on to his other arm. "Okay," he says after a moment, because his name means scarecrow so who is he to judge? "How old are you?"
"How old are you ?" She challenges immediately, and for a moment he wants to smile. She meets his gaze and pauses, then goes back to wrapping his arm. He hesitates.
"I asked first," he decides to say, but the sharply amused look he gets from his temporary caretaker makes him think he's said something wrong.
"It's a bit rude to ask someone's age like that," she states, not really considering how blunt she sounds. Kakashi wants to ask her how else would you find out someone's age, but it's too many words for him to put together coherently so he just answers her question first with a nearly silent
"23."
Again, he's caught her off guard, and a little part of him is pleased with this data. She stares blankly, running the number over in her mind until she understands: he'd meant himself, not her. She gives him a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"I'm nineteen," she replies, tying off the last bandage. Kakashi watches with a cool gaze, not having expected her to be so young, but not really caring, either. Cricket takes the remaining supplies and shoves them all back into the black bag it came from. Then she turns to the fridge, peering in for a moment. She glances back at him. "What do you want?"
Surprise sweeps over him. He didn't think she'd have normal food, but before he can react she's pulling out a carton of eggs and a block of mozzarella cheese. It's all he can do to utter the word, "Food?" in a questioning manner, and she looks at him like he's an idiot.
He hasn't been on the receiving end of that look in a long while, and it's kind of refreshing.
"I have enough people coming out here throughout the week to keep the fridge somewhat stocked," she scowls, somehow knowing what his confusion was without him needing to speak. And in return, he somehow knows that her expression isn't meant to make him feel bad. The corner of his mouth twitches.
He nods, accepting her excuse and then just watching silently as she makes scrambled eggs. He doesn't ask how she can cook, and she doesn't ask about the dullness of his gaze as his mind slips back into itself, pulling up all the memories that make his stomach churn and he wishes desperately he could forget. He doesn't notice how much time has passed until a plate is set down in front of him. He blinks, startled out of his reverie.
"Eat," she instructs him, before turning to put everything back into the fridge. He wants to refuse, wants to fight her strange kindness that's cloaked in her rough persona, but there's a glint in her eyes that promises bad things if he resists. He sullenly accepts that he doesn't have the energy to fight with her. There's a fork beside the plate and he takes it, eating a cautious bite.
The food is good. The silence is better, so he eats as quietly as he can. Apparently, Cricket disagrees, and moves noisily throughout the kitchen. He finishes everything that's on the plate in record time-it seems that he was more hungry than he'd thought. Even though he's finished, he remains at the counter, watching Cricket pull out some jerky from a bag in the fridge. Strip hanging from her mouth, she spots his empty dish and takes it, placing it in the sink for cleaning later. Then she's sitting across the counter, chin in her hand, and staring hard at him while she chews. Kakashi gets the feeling he's being observed like a caged animal, and tries to ignore it.
After a minute or two, she finally speaks.
"Past or present troubles?" She asks, and Kakashi's so confused by this that he's sure it shows through his mask. It does, and Cricket sighs before she clarifies herself. "Whatever made you try to off yourself, was it a past trouble or present trouble?"
The churning in his stomach comes back with a vengeance, and he immediately turns away from her steely gaze. "… Both," he chokes out, gripping the counter like a lifeline. Cricket nods and stands up, motioning for him to follow when she walks out. She doesn't say anything else on the matter. For a second, he thinks about refusing, but she's helped him this much already so he just goes, makes himself stand and walk after her until they're both outside.
"In here," she calls, stepping into a gazebo that he hadn't noticed before. He follows, too tired at this point to care as long as he gets to sit down again. A cold splash of water lands on his cheek just before he steps under the roof, and he glances up at the cloudy sky. Cricket's voice tugs his attention back to her. "You can lay down over there."
He looks to where she's pointing; there's a small hammock off to the side and he gratefully falls into it. She sits on the opposite side, in a dark gray hanging chair, plucking a book from the shelf behind her. Kakashi closes his eyes, then startles when she begins to read aloud. It's a book he doesn't recognize, and he listens quietly, trying to identify which book or which author she's reading from. He can't.
He attempts to resist the pull of sleep, but he's failing, and his eyelids slide closed and her voice amidst the growing patter of rain is the last thing he hears before he falls into a dreamless slumber.
The next time he wakes, it's stopped raining outside and he's got a blanket wrapped around him and the stove in the corner is lit. There's no door to the gazebo, but he's warm anyways. He turns his head and winces at the stiffness of his body. He sees Cricket still sitting in her chair. She's staring out into the forest, lost in thought.
"How long…" His voice cracks from misuse, and he tried to sit up before speaking again. He's stiff and sore, but manages to swing his legs out.
"Almost twenty hours," she replies, watching him from the corner of her eye. He freezes. She snorts, "Your body needed sleep. Now it needs food. Can you walk?"
He wants to feel offended, because she's asking him if he can walk and he's not some baby who can't, but when he tries to stand up his legs nearly buckle underneath him. In an instant she's right there at his side, pulling his arm over her shoulders and supporting him. He doesn't complain.
They make their way towards the house, moving slowly but surely. By the time they're back in the kitchen and she's made more food for him, the rain's started up again and Cricket has to start a fire in this room, too. Kakashi finishes eating and finds it much easier to speak.
"Thank you," he says quietly, but Cricket waves him off.
"Don't mention it." She's got more jerky between her teeth, and she eyes his plate. "More food?"
He hesitates, which makes her roll her eyes and dump the remaining food onto his plate from the frying pan. He can't help but scowl a bit, even as he digs in. Cricket shakes her head and smirks, moving to the sink to wash the dishes.
It's not until they're both done that he thinks to ask, and by then the aqua haired girl is sitting cross-legged on top of the counter beside him with another book in her hands. He leans forward, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow and gazing up at her. His voice is soft when he speaks. "Why'd you take me in?"
She doesn't look up from the pages. "Would you have preferred I brought you to the nearest infirmary?"
He shifts uncomfortably, ".. No."
"Then there's your answer."
"But-"
She silences him with a raised eyebrow, and in the back of his mind is a voice demanding how that's even possible. They stare at each other for a long minute, evaluating each other, until he decided to not push it right now. He'll get an answer when she's ready, he supposes. So he asks something else.
"Why Cricket?"
She blinks, clearly not expecting this. Confusion laces her words. "What do you mean?"
His brows wrinkle as he repeats his question, "Why'd you pick the name Cricket?"
Her face falls blank, and she returns to her book. "I didn't. My brother gave me this name before he left."
"Sorry.." Kakashi drops his gaze to the counter. Cricket shrugs a shoulder, and then he realizes that her face isn't blank from hiding emotion but from the simplicity of the answer. Before he can ask anything else, however, she hits him with her own question.
"So," she turns the page, "what's your plan?"
He doesn't understand, or rather he doesn't want to understand, but she's not letting him get away from answering. She closes her book and laces her fingers together, leaning down to look him right in the eye. "I don't know," he responds after a moment, because he doesn't. He's lost. And she recognizes this, so she nods and leans back again.
"Then, is there anything you want to do?"
He's taken aback by this. So he shakes his head slowly, glancing uncertainly up at her. "I.. Don't know. Never felt like this," he admits, and she regards him coolly but frowns at this last statement.
"Felt like what?"
Kakashi frowns too, unsure of how to explain. "I feel…" He pauses, looking at the bandages that adorned his forearms. "Lost. In the dark. Like I don't know what's okay anymore."
Cricket nods, a knowing look in her silver eyes. He doesn't get it, but she seems satisfied with his answer.
He wonders, briefly, if she understands through personal experience. He hopes not, but also doesn't know why.
They both sense the newcomers at the same time, but he's the only one who looks up. He feels wary. The thought of anyone else seeing him in this state is enough to make his stomach flip uneasily, but Cricket just teasingly pats his head.
"It's only the kids from yesterday," she assures him, before hopping off the counter and moving to the door. "You can stay in the gazebo if you wish to be alone. Otherwise, I'll introduce you."
He stands with every intention to go hide, but the flash of disappointment in her gaze is enough to hold him back. He doesn't understand it, but disappointing her makes him feel bad, so he takes a deep breath and sits back down.
The door opens and three kids stumble through. Cricket immediately starts shushing them, as they're all chattering excitedly at the same time, and it kind of makes Kakashi's head hurt. "One at a time!" The older girl orders them, and Zoe steps forward.
"I got a 72%!" She says proudly, and Cricket smiles and nods before turning to the redhead.
"78%," Gaara smiles back, and then Naruto is shoving himself forward.
"What about me? I got 75%!" He cries, and suddenly Cricket is laughing and praising them, and Kakashi feels his chest constrict a little at the happy sound.
He doesn't understand this, either.