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“I’m starting to think I might have married an ameonna,” Kakashi teased, leaning against the doorframe. Misaki smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. She was sitting perched on the railing of the small balcony attached to their apartment, head tilted up into the fall of sweet, cool raindrops, enjoying the way the sound and the smell of the rain washed away everything else. Kakashi stayed within the shelter of the doorway and simply watched her breathe.
“I don’t think I’m pale enough to be a spirit,” she replied at last. She looked at him and her open eyes seemed all the more blue for the soft, slightly grayed out world around her. “Unless you’re really saying I’m bad luck?”
“I do seem to spend more time in the rain when I’m with you.” He held out a hand to catch some raindrops in his palm. Kakashi hadn’t thought much about rain before learning how much Misaki loved it, but he could understand the appeal. It was cleansing.
As long as one avoided areas prone to mud.
“I don’t know if I’d call that bad luck, though,” he continued the thought belatedly, tilting his head in projected innocence at the way her eyes had narrowed.
“I certainly hope not,” she said wryly. “Since I think you’d be stuck with it either way.”
Kakashi hummed thoughtfully and stepped out onto balcony with her. There was only just enough room out there for the two of them if they crowded into each other’s space, so he nudged her knee to the side and stepped into the space between her legs. His arms wrapped around her waist, while hers came up around his neck in return.
They looked at each other contentedly for a long moment, which was only broken when Misaki snorted. At his raised brow, she said, “Your hair’s getting all droopy. No matter how many times I’ve seen it wet, it never gets old.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head like a dog, prompting her into bright, laughing protests. “That doesn’t even work, it’s still raining!”
“And I wonder why, with the presence of my very own rain spirit,” he said with a quirk of his lips.
Misaki twisted her fingers into the hair at his neck and tugged lightly. “Alright, fine,” she acquiesced. “If I’m an ameonna, what does that make you?”
“Oh? I can’t just be a mere mortal man hopelessly in love with an otherworldly beauty?” he asked. “Seems romantic to me.”
“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. “Those kinds of stories always end tragically. If I’m going to be a spirit out of a folk tale, I demand a happy ending.”
“A happy ending,” he echoed. “Well, I guess I can agree with that, ne?”
“You say that as if I was giving you a choice.” She tugged at his hair again, tilted her head consideringly. “Hm. My first thought is an inugami, but that’s not quite right.”
“No? The ninken will be so disappointed,” he said.
Misaki pursed her lips. “No, it has to match better,” she said absently. After a moment of thought, during which her gaze drifted off into the distance, she straightened up minutely. “Oh! A raiju! It’s perfect.”
“Is that so?”
“Well, wolves are canines like your ninken, and you have a lightning affinity,” she explained contemplatively, not realizing the amusement with which he was watching her. “And thunder and lightning go with rain storms…” Misaki blinked, turning back to him. “Right. Genius. You didn’t actually need an explanation.”
“No, go on, I want to hear more about how we go together,” Kakashi said, voice pitched lower than before. She swatted his shoulder for that, but he didn’t miss the way her breath hitched just a little, or the way her cheeks turned pink.
“You’re impossible,” she huffed.
“Apparently, I’m a raiju,” he corrected.
“The worst.”
“That too. And either way, you’re stuck with me.” There was no small amount of smugness in those words.
Misaki pouted briefly, but couldn’t help the slow curl of her lips into a smile. “I guess I am,” she said. “Lucky me.”
Kakashi bumped their foreheads together as he leaned in closer. “Aa,” he agreed. “Lucky ameonna.”
Her fingers shifted into a few quick hand seals at the back of his neck, the telltale shimmer of an outward-facing genjutsu falling around them. Privacy from nosy neighbors obtained, she retreated just far enough to hook her fingers into the edge of his rain-dampened mask and slide it down, allowing Kakashi to press their lips together.
She giggled against his lips.
Kakashi broke the kiss. “I’m sorry,” she laughed, drawing back to cover her mouth with one hand. “Kissing in the rain is just—it’s so cliche. I feel like we should have just had a dramatic reunion after a big misunderstanding or something else ridiculous like that.”
“You,” he growled playfully. He pulled her hand away and intertwined their fingers, nipping at her bottom lip with sharp teeth. “If you want something cliche, I can break out my Icha Icha. We can…reenact.”
“I thought you said Icha Icha was art, not just a smutty collection of cliches?” she teased.
“Cliches are only bad when they’re badly done,” he said. Very reasonably, in his opinion, and not at all pouty because she was making fun of his favorite book. “Sometimes a good cliche is enjoyable.”
“Then,” she said, leaning back into him, “we should make this one very good.”
They stayed out on the balcony together long past when the rain stopped, leaving weak rays of sunlight to break out from between the clouds.