Chapter 6: A Painful Lesson in Soccer
The bass hit the bottom of the boat with a solid, satisfying thump, its tail slapping against the aluminum hull in a frantic percussion. Ryo and Kyo crowded around it, their voices overlapping in a chorus of disbelief and celebration.
"Look at the size of that thing!"
"That's a twenty-pounder, easy!"
"It's bigger than Ryo's head!"
"It is not bigger than my head, shut up!"
Sakura laughed, her hands still trembling from the fight, and Kakashi watched the way the morning light caught the pink in her cheeks, the way she looked at the fish like it was the greatest prize she'd ever won. She hadn't let go of the rod, her knuckles still white around the grip.
"You have to get a picture," Ryo insisted. "Dad, take a picture. She needs a picture with her fish."
Kakashi fished his phone from his pocket, wiping the screen on his shirt. The boys arranged themselves on either side of Sakura, each holding a section of the fish like it was a ceremonial object. The bass was a monster, all dark green and silver, its gills still heaving.
"Smile!" Kakashi said.
They did. The photo would come out crooked, the sun washing out their faces, the fish dangling at an awkward angle. But it didn't matter. The moment was already forged.
"We gotta let it go, right?" Kyo said, his voice tinged with regret.
"Big ones are the breeders," Kakashi said, crouching beside the boat. "We let them go so they can make more big ones."
Sakura knelt, cradling the fish in her hands. For a moment, she just looked at it, the weight of it solid and alive. Then she lowered it into the water, holding it still until it gave a surprised flick of its tail and disappeared into the murky depths.
"Bye, fish," Ryo said solemnly.
"See you later, fish," Kyo added.
Sakura laughed, and the sound carried across the water like something holy.
They rowed back to the cabin, the boys taking turns at the oars until their arms gave out. The sun was high by then, the morning coolness burned away. The grass on the lawn was still damp with dew, and the cabin looked like a postcard in the golden light.
Kakashi tied the boat to the dock and lifted the tackle box onto the planks. The boys scrambled ahead, racing up the path toward the cabin, their shouts echoing across the lawn. Sakura lingered, watching them go.
"They're good kids," she said. "Really good."
"They have their moments."
"More than moments. They made you breakfast. They picked me flowers." She turned to face him, her eyes soft. "They're raising themselves well."
Kakashi hoisted the oars over his shoulder, shaking his head. "I don't know about that. I'm mostly just trying to keep them alive and moderately functional."
"You're doing better than that."
He didn't know how to respond to that. The words felt too heavy, too much like praise he hadn't earned. He just shrugged and started walking up the path.
Ryo was waiting on the porch, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The soccer ball was tucked under his arm, and his grin was wide and reckless. "Two on two. Me and Kyo versus you two."
Kakashi set the oars down, raising an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Sakura just caught the biggest fish of the day. She's got momentum."
"Pfft. Fish don't matter. Soccer's a whole different game."
Sakura laughed, already kicking off her sandals. "I haven't played soccer since middle school. I'm going to be terrible."
"That's okay," Kyo said, appearing behind his brother. "We'll go easy on you."
"Don't go easy on me," Sakura said, her competitive streak flaring. "I might surprise you."
The lawn was still damp, the grass slick beneath their bare feet. The boys had set up goals with two pairs of sneakers and a fallen branch, a rough rectangle of space that was too small and too uneven to be fair. But nobody cared about fairness.
The game started with Kyo's kick, a solid pass to Ryo, who charged down the lawn with the ball at his feet. Kakashi stayed back, letting Sakura chase, and she did, her laugh trailing behind her as she ran. She was all elbows and enthusiasm, her form clumsy but determined.
"I've got her," Kyo called, cutting across the lawn to block her. But she was faster than she looked, darting past him with a burst of speed that caught him off guard.
"Whoa!" Kyo stumbled, his arms windmilling. "Okay, okay, she's got some moves."
Ryo planted his feet, aiming for the goal. Kakashi read the angle, shifting his weight. Ryo kicked, the ball rifling past Kakashi's outstretched fingers and into the makeshift goal.
"GOAL!" Ryo screamed, doing a lap around the lawn with his fist in the air. "We're up one-nothing!"
"Lucky shot," Sakura called back, hands on her hips. "You won't get that past me again."
"Wanna bet?"
The next play was faster, more chaotic. Kyo passed to Ryo, Ryo dribbled past Kakashi, and Sakura came charging in from the side, stealing the ball with a desperate toe poke. She sent it spinning toward Kyo, who sent it wide, out of bounds.
"Oops," Kyo said, laughing.
"Get it together, Kyo!" Ryo shouted.
"I was off balance!"
"Balance doesn't score goals!"
The score went to two-nil, then three-one. Kakashi found himself laughing, something he hadn't done in months, the sound foreign and rusty in his own throat. The sun was warming his shoulders, the grass was staining his knees, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this light.
It was Sakura's turn to kick off. She sent a soft pass toward Kakashi, who trapped it with his instep, turning to face the boys. Ryo charged at him, arms spread wide, and Kakashi feinted left, then right, then slipped the ball between Ryo's legs.
"Nutmeg!" Kakashi called as he sprinted past.
"Dad! That's not fair!"
"All is fair in love and soccer."
Kyo came in for the tackle, but Kakashi was already in the air, lifting the ball with a flick of his ankle and over Kyo's head. The boys were shouting now, chasing him, and Kakashi could feel the familiar burn in his lungs, the joy of the game surging through his veins.
He reached the goal, the sneakers and branch marking the posts. One more touch, and—
"KAKASHI!"
The ball hit him with a precision that seemed impossible. It wasn't the loud, bruising collision that knocked him off his feet. It was the precise, silent placement, the way the leather sunk deep into the least protected, most undefended part of his body.
Kakashi made a sound that wasn't quite human, a grunt that was half air, half horror. He dropped to his knees, then his hands, his forehead pressing into the cool grass. The world swam around him in waves of red and white.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God—" Ryo's voice was high and frantic, his footsteps pounding across the lawn. "Dad! Dad! I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Out of the way, out of the way." Sakura was there, her hands on Kakashi's shoulders, her voice steady but urgent. "Kakashi, hey, look at me. Breathe."
He was breathing. Barely. The pain was a nausea, a white-hot knot that turned his entire abdominal cavity inside out. He could hear Kyo hovering, his voice tight and scared.
"Is he okay? Is Dad okay?"
"Give him a minute," Sakura said. "He'll be fine. This happens."
"Does this happen?" Ryo's voice cracked. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to kick it there. I was aiming for the goal. I swear, I was aiming for the goal—"
"Ryo." Kakashi forced the word out, his voice a strangled rasp. "Ryo, buddy, I know. You were aiming for the goal." He pushed himself up onto his knees, his hand splayed across his lap. The motion was careful, deliberate. "I'm okay. Just... give me a second to remember how to breathe."
Ryo's face was white, his eyes wide, glassy. His hands were shaking at his sides. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Dad."
"Hey." Kakashi reached out, gripping his son's shoulder. "I said I'm okay. Look at me. I'm okay."
Ryo looked at him, his chin trembling. "Promise?"
"Promise." Kakashi forced a grin that felt more like a grimace. "It takes more than a soccer ball to take down your old man."
Kyo, who had been frozen a few feet away, let out a shaky breath. "That was a cannon, Dad. You should've seen your face."
"Thanks, Kyo. Really. That's what I needed." Kakashi groaned, shifting his weight. "Help me up."
Sakura slipped an arm under his shoulder, pulling him to his feet. The world swayed for a moment, then steadied. He kept his hand pressed against his lap, trying not to show the boys how much it hurt.
"How bad is it?" she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.
"Let's just say I'm not going to be a father of three anytime soon."
"Not funny."
"It's a little funny."
She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Let's get you to the porch. You need to sit down. With ice."
"The boys—"
"Will survive without you for five minutes. Come on."
The walk to the porch was slow, Kakashi leaning more weight on her than he'd have liked. The boys followed in a silent, worried cluster, Ryo's face still pinched with guilt. When Kakashi lowered himself onto the porch swing, the springs groaning beneath him, Ryo hovered nearby, twisting his hands.
"I can go get ice," Kyo offered. "We have a bag of peas in the freezer, right?"
"That's perfect," Sakura said. "Bring the peas."
Kyo took off into the cabin, his feet slapping against the wood. Ryo stood there, his shoulders hunched, his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Ryo." Kakashi's voice was softer now, coaxing. "Come here, buddy."
Ryo shuffled forward, his hands still twisting. Kakashi reached out and pulled him into a hug, careful to keep his legs angled away. Ryo buried his face in his father's chest, his small body trembling.
"I really didn't mean it, Dad. I swear. You were just in the way and I was trying to score, and—"
"I know, Ryo. I know." Kakashi rubbed his son's back in slow circles. "It's a game. Accidents happen. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But I hurt you."
"And I've been hurt worse. Much worse. It's okay."
Ryo sniffled, his grip tightening. The porch swing creaked under their combined weight. Kyo appeared with the bag of frozen peas, holding it like it was a sacred artifact.
"Got it," he said breathlessly. "Sakura, you want to..."
Sakura took the bag, shooed Kyo back, and knelt beside the swing. She gave Kakashi a look that was half sympathy, half amusement.
"Ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
She placed the bag of frozen peas on his lap with surprising gentleness. The shock of cold made him hiss through his teeth, but the pain began to dull almost immediately. The boys watched with wide eyes, trying not to laugh.
"Does that help?" Ryo asked.
"Yeah, buddy. It actually does."
Sakura adjusted the bag, making sure it covered the right spot. She kept her touch light, professional, but there was something tender in the way she smoothed the fabric of his shorts.
"You're going to need a while to recover," she said. "You might want to skip the soccer for the rest of the day."
"I don't think I'll be on the field anytime soon, no."
The boys exchanged a glance, then broke into nervous laughter. The tension cracked, just a little. Kyo flopped onto the porch floor, his back against the railing, and Ryo settled beside him.
"So," Ryo said, trying to regain some composure. "That was a really good game. I mean, until the whole... you know."
"The nutmeg," Kyo said. "That was pretty embarrassing for us."
"Hey." Kakashi shifted the peas, wincing. "It's called soccer. Sometimes the old man wins."
"Until he gets taken out by his own son," Kyo shot back.
The laughter that followed was loud and genuine. Ryo was laughing hardest of all, his guilt washing away with each breath. Kakashi watched them, their heads together, their laughter ringing out over the lawn. The sun was warm on the porch, and Sakura was beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
He'd been hurt before. He'd been hurt in more ways than anyone in this little family could imagine. But sitting here, on this sun-bleached porch, with his sons laughing and the woman he was falling for watching him with soft eyes, he couldn't remember what that kind of pain felt like at all.
"Alright," he said, settling back into the swing. "Someone better start dinner, because I'm not moving for a while."
"I'll cook," Sakura offered.
"We just saw what the boys cook. I've had enough charred pancakes for one weekend."
"Get it yourself, then."
"I didn't say that," he said quickly. "Cook. Please. I'll be right here, supervising from a seated position."
The boys laughed again, and this time, the sound didn't fade. It echoed across the lawn, down to the lake, where the water rippled and stilled and the wind carried it away. And Kakashi, sitting on that sagging porch with his sons and his nurse and his bag of frozen peas, felt the storm that had been brewing in his chest finally begin to clear.
The rain came in the night. Not with a dramatic crack of thunder or a spectacular lightning show—those would have been kinder. No, it arrived as a soft finger of water testing the windowpanes around midnight, then swelled into a relentless drumming that continued well past dawn. Kakashi woke to the sound of it, the steady percussion filling the cabin like white noise, and for a moment, he couldn't tell if the warmth pressed against his side was real or a dream. She was still there. Her hair fanned across the pillow, and her hand rested on his forearm, loose and trusting. He watched her breathe for a while, counting the soft rises and falls of her chest, until Kyo's voice rang through the cabin like an alarm.
"Dad! It's raining!"
Kakashi closed his eyes. The children had discovered water falling from the sky like it was a personal tragedy. He heard Ryo's answering shout, the thundering of feet down the hallway. The door burst open, and both boys stood there in their mismatched pajamas, hair sticking up in wild directions.
"Can we still go fishing?" Ryo asked, already knowing the answer.
"No."
"Can we go swimming?"
"The lake is a lightning magnet, and I love you both enough to not let you become a lightning rod."
Kyo groaned, flopping dramatically across the foot of the bed. The motion disturbed the blanket, exposing Sakura's bare shoulder. She stirred but didn't wake.
"Sorry," Kyo whispered, his eyes wide on her form. He looked at his brother, then at his father, and a slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. "So. She's still here."
"Kyo."
"She slept over. In your bed. You guys did the—"
"We did not do 'the—' nothing you need to know about. Out. Go. Make yourselves useful."
Ryo grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him toward the door. But Kyo's grin didn't fade, and Kakashi could already hear the teasing that was coming. The door clicked shut, and Sakura stirred, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes.
"That's not how I wanted to wake up," she mumbled.
"Welcome to parenting teenagers."
"They're ten."
"Emotionally they're fifteen. It's worse."
She laughed, a low, rough sound, and stretched against him. The rain pattered harder against the window, a steady percussion that drowned out the sound of the boys banging around in the kitchen. She smiled, her fingers tracing a lazy pattern on his chest. "What do you want to do today?"
"Crawl back under these covers and pretend the world doesn't exist."
"Tempting." She lifted her head, listening to the clatter from the other room. "But I think our time has been claimed."
A pot crashed. Something high-pitched hissed. The boys swore in unison, followed by a guilty silence.
"I'll handle breakfast," she said, sitting up. "You go make sure they haven't burned down the cabin."
"They're going to love you even more for feeding them."
"They'll have to get in line."
The living room smelled of rain and pine and something savory drifting from the kitchen. Kakashi wrapped himself in a quilt, settled onto the couch, and listened to the sounds of his little family moving through the space. Sakura had taken over the kitchen, her movements efficient and unhurried. The boys hovered around her like satellites, each trying to claim a role.
"I can crack eggs," Kyo said. "I'm really good at it."
"You made a mess last time."
"The mess was part of the recipe."
Sakura slid a bowl toward him. "Okay, egg cracker. Show me what you've got."
Kyo cracked four eggs with only one shell fragment landing in the bowl. Ryo took over stirring the batter while Sakura sliced fruit, and the rhythm of their movements, the casual collaboration, made something in Kakashi's chest ache with a sweet, unfamiliar warmth. He'd done this dance alone for so long. Two boys and a man and a kitchen covered in flour. Another pair of hands made it feel less like survival and more like living.
They ate at the small table near the window. The boys talked over each other, their words tripping over one another as they debated the merits of various board games. Sakura listened, asked questions, laughed at their stories. When Ryo spilled orange juice, she didn't flinch. She just grabbed a rag and wiped it up.
"Okay, business meeting," Kyo announced, setting down his fork. "We have Monopoly, Sorry, Clue, and Risk. And a puzzle."
"We're not playing Risk," Kakashi said. "Last time ended in tears."
"That was Ryo's fault."
"Was not!"
"Was so!"
Sakura raised a hand. "How about Monopoly? It's a classic. And you can't exactly injure someone with a thimble."
"Dad can," Kyo said. "He's creative."
They played Monopoly. Kakashi's strategy was calm, methodical, and utterly relentless. He bought up the railroads early, traded ruthlessly, and backed the boys into corners with the cheerful patience of a man who had nothing left to prove. The boys accused him of cheating. Sakura tried to broker peace, but she was too busy laughing at the outrage on their faces.
"Dad, you're a tyrant!" Ryo declared, landing on Boardwalk for the third time.
"I'm a businessman, Ryo. There's a difference."
"You're bleeding us dry!"
"An education in economics."
The game spiraled into anarchy within an hour. Ryo declared bankruptcy, flipping his remaining money into the air like confetti. Kyo knocked over the board in a dramatic show of protest, then immediately helped pick up the pieces. Sakura emerged victorious, having quietly purchased her way across the board while the boys fought their father.
"That's not fair!" Kyo said. "You were just sitting there!"
"I was playing the long game," she said, smiling. "You two were too busy fighting your dad to notice."
"That's so sneaky."
"That's just good strategy."
The afternoon dissolved into a stack of movies. They pulled the cushions off the couch and made a nest on the floor, a tangle of quilts and pillows and drowsy children. The first movie was a comedy. The second was an action film with explosions that made the boys go silent and wide-eyed. The third was something Sakura chose, a quiet drama about a small town and the people who lived there.
Halfway through, Ryo fell asleep. His head rested in Sakura's lap, his hand loosely curled around her knee. She didn't move. She just kept her fingers in his hair, her gaze on the screen. Kakashi watched her instead. The way her other hand rested on Kyo's shoulder, the way she held them both without hesitation, like they were already hers.
The rain had stopped by the time the credits rolled. The room was dim, lit only by the flickering television and the grey light filtering through the windows. Kyo was still awake, but barely, his eyes heavy, his head drooping.
"What happens next?" he asked, yawning.
"The movie's over, Kyo."
"I know. But what happens after? To them?"
"They go home," Sakura said softly. "They go on with their lives. They remember the people they loved."
Kyo nodded, processing this. Then he sat up, sudden and alert. "Can we tell ghost stories?"
Ryo stirred, groggy but listening. "Yeah. Ghost stories. It's dark. It's rainy. Perfect for ghost stories."
"You just woke up from a nap and you want to scare yourself?"
"That's the best time."
Kakashi looked at Sakura. She shrugged, mirth in her eyes. "I know a couple stories. If you think you can handle them."
"We can handle anything," Kyo declared.
"Let me get the lights."
The lamp clicked off. The only remaining light came from a candle Sakura dug out of the kitchen drawer, its flame swaying in the still air. They gathered in a circle on the floor, the boys cross-legged and alert, their earlier drowsiness forgotten.
"I'll go first," Sakura said. "This is a story my grandmother told me. About a woman named Oiwa."
She told the story of a woman who had been betrayed, wronged by someone she loved. How she came back from the grave with a face half-rotted, how she hunted the man who had destroyed her. The details were spare, but the delivery was perfect. The way her voice dropped to a whisper at the climax.
The boys were frozen. Kyo's eyes were wide, his hand clamped around Ryo's arm. Ryo was gnawing his lower lip.
"That's not real, right?" Kyo said.
"It's just a story," Sakura said gently.
"The woman. The ghost. It's not real?"
"Kyo. It's a story. It's not real."
But his voice had lost its bravado, and his grip on Ryo's arm hadn't loosened. Kakashi reached out, brushing his hand over Kyo's hair.
"Hey. I'm right here. Nothing's going to get you."
Kyo nodded, but he didn't look convinced. He cast a glance toward the darkened hallway, the shadows pooling like waiting things.
"Can we," Ryo started, then stopped. "Can we stay out here tonight? All of us? Together?"
"Camp out in the living room?" Kakashi asked.
"Yeah." Ryo's voice was small. "Like we used to."
The memory surfaced unbidden. Another rainstorm, years ago. A thunderstorm had spooked the boys, and they'd dragged their sleeping bags into his room, the three of them sprawled across his bed. He remembered the warmth of their small bodies pressed against him, the sound of their breathing.
"Alright," he said. "We'll camp out."
The boys moved with purpose. Sleeping bags were dragged from the hall closet, pillows were claimed, blankets were redistributed. Sakura excused herself for a moment, returning with a toothbrush and a t-shirt that was unmistakably his. The boys watched her settle into a sleeping bag next to theirs, and Kakashi saw the question forming on Kyo's lips.
"Where's your bed?" Kyo asked.
"This is fine. This is perfect, actually."
"You can sleep next to Dad if you want. His bag is big enough."
Kakashi felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "Kyo."
"What? It's true. It's a big sleeping bag."
Sakura laughed, a little breathless. "That's okay. I like having my own space. But thank you for offering."
The boys arranged themselves into a tangle of blankets, the sleeping bags zipped up to their chins. Kakashi took the side nearest the window, propped up on an elbow. Sakura lay on the other side of the boys, the candle between them casting dancing shadows across their faces.
"Goodnight, Dad," Ryo murmured.
"Goodnight, Ryo."
"Goodnight, Sakura."
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
The fire in Kyo's eyes had faded. He was already drowsy, his breathing slowing. He reached out, his hand finding his brother's in the dark.
"I'm glad you're here," Kyo whispered.
Kakashi didn't know if he was talking to him or to Sakura. It didn't matter. The words settled into the quiet, carrying a weight they couldn't begin to understand.
The candle flickered. The room grew quiet. And in the hush of the cabin, surrounded by those he loved, Kakashi felt the last remnants of the storm fade with the coming night.