Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

What Could Possibly Go Wrong

Hatake Residence, Konoha 

The knock came just as Kakashi was about to turn the page.

Not the polite, two-tap kind. This one rattled the frame — sharp, impatient. All four ninken in the room lifted their heads in unison.

Kakashi sighed, dog-eared the novel, and rose from his chair.

When he slid open the door, there she was.

Naruto.

Rain clung to her like a second skin, dripping from her ponytail onto his porch. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her coat half-zipped, mud splattered all the way to her knees.

Kakashi didn’t even have to think. “…Don’t tell me you went to Amegakure again.”

She huffed, brushing past him into the warmth like she owned the place. “It wasn’t that far this time—”

“—You crossed two borders,” he cut in, shutting the door behind her. “And didn’t tell anyone. Again.”

Her boots hit the floor with a wet thud, leaving a fan of mud. She was already unzipping the heavier coat when she blurted, “Okay, so before you get mad—”

“That’s never a good start.”

“—I might have… told the Amegakure council we’re engaged.”

Silence. Even the dogs stopped moving.

Kakashi blinked at her, slowly. “…You might have ?”

“They were pushing for the Hokage to marry into Amegakure,” she rushed on, waving a hand. “And I didn’t want you roped into some political thing with a stranger, so I said you were already engaged. To me. Which technically solves their problem, and it’s not like—”

Kakashi held up a hand. “Let me see if I have this straight. You crossed two borders without telling anyone, met with Amegakure’s council, and in the middle of that meeting… you—”

“…Yes?” she prompted, fidgeting under his gaze.

He stared at her for another long beat, the kind that made the air between them feel heavier. Then he exhaled slowly, almost like this was just one more thing on a long list.
“…Sure.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s it? You’re not even gonna yell at me? Or say no?”

“I’ve been Hokage for two years,” Kakashi said, already turning toward the kitchen. “If fake being engaged to you keeps you from sneaking into Amegakure every other week, it’s worth it. What could possibly go wrong?”

The dogs exchanged a look that said they knew exactly what could go wrong.

–

Amegakure Market District – Two Days Earlier

The mission had ended three borders west of here.
Technically, she should have been halfway home by now.

But the rain was falling, and Naruto had learned long ago that Amegakure’s rain didn’t wait for permission. It ran down her hood, seeped into her shoulders, and followed her all the way from the high ridge road to the shadow of the village gates. The guards barely looked up when she passed; the familiar swirl on her armguard and her steady, unthreatening gait made her an old presence here.

She told herself it would just be a quick check-in.

A pass through the market. A word with the baker who kept half his stock aside for the orphan dormitory. A smile for the kids who shadowed her steps, not quite bold enough to greet her outright.

The first thing she noticed was the smell.
.
Markets had a rhythm — the char of skewered fish, the bright sharpness of pickled radish, the sweetness of steamed buns drifting out from paper stalls. This one smelled of damp canvas and stale grain.

The second thing was the sound. There wasn’t much of it.

The stalls that were open held only a fraction of their usual stock. Whole counters sat bare, tarps sagging under rainwater. Vendors kept their eyes low, weighing and re-weighing sacks of rice like the numbers might change if they stared hard enough.

Naruto slowed at the edge of a fruit stand. The man behind it was one of the first she’d met here, years ago. Now he was thinner, older, his hands wrapped in cloth that was fraying at the edges.

He glanced at her, managed a smile, and shook his head at the empty baskets. “Shipment from the east port was delayed again,” he murmured. “Three days. Maybe four. Not much left for the week.”

That was when she saw them — two small shapes huddled at the corner of the awning, bare feet muddy, hair plastered to their faces. They didn’t look up when she crouched beside them. One had a heel of bread, the other nothing at all.

She fished in her pouch for the small bundle of soldier pills she’d been carrying since the mission started. It wasn’t the right food for growing kids, but it was something. She held it out, waiting until the smaller one peeked up.

Their eyes were too old for their faces.

“Here,” Naruto said quietly, pressing the bundle into their hands. “Don’t eat it all at once. Share it, okay?”

They nodded, wordless.

The rain was heavier now, hammering the market’s patched tarps, pushing the smell of damp stone into her lungs. She straightened slowly, scanning the square. No council members here, of course. No one to see how thin their people were getting.

But she would.

She always did.

–

Amegakure Council Hall

The council hall squatted at the heart of the administrative block, its once-white walls stained with decades of rain. The main doors were warped from moisture, but Naruto didn’t slow when she pushed them open.

Warmth hit her in a wave — not from any fire, but from the heat of too many voices. Six council members sat around a cracked table, the room smelling faintly of damp wood and old paper. Two were bickering over trade routes. Another shuffled through a mold-stained ledger. One sat near the window, staring at the rain like the meeting had already lasted a lifetime.

Heads turned when she entered, boots dripping onto warped floorboards.

“Uzumaki,” the eldest councilor said, his voice carrying the ghost of a smile. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Yeah,” Naruto replied, shrugging out of her soaked cloak. “Guess I should’ve expected that too. I just came from the market.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room.

“It’s not good out there,” she continued, planting both hands on the table. “Half the stalls are empty. Shipments are late, and your people are splitting scraps between kids. You promised after the last aid run you’d get distribution moving smoother—”

“We said we would try,” interrupted a thin man to her left. “The network is fragile. We can’t guarantee—”

“You can’t guarantee food for your people?” Naruto’s voice cut sharper, carrying over the steady patter of rain. “Then let someone help who can.”

The room went still.

The oldest woman on the council — hair coiled high in the style of Amegakure’s old nobility — folded her hands. “Your concern is noted, Uzumaki-san. But you know our position. Amegakure cannot be seen as bending to Konoha’s control. If we sign an alliance without balance, the other villages will accuse us of being occupied.”

Naruto frowned. “We’ve sent aid for years without strings. What’s changed?”

“What’s changed,” the noblewoman said evenly, “is that the eyes of every major village are on us. If your Hokage wishes to formalize our bond, it must be with something binding. Something symbolic.” She let the word rest. “A marriage.”

Naruto sat back. “You’re saying the Hokage should marry into Amegakure?”

“Exactly. One of ours.”

“That’s not possible,” Naruto said immediately, sharper than she meant to.

Several brows lifted. “Why?”

She didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t have one — she just wasn’t about to explain why the idea of Kakashi tied into a political marriage made her skin crawl.

The man with the ledger spoke up. “He’s not married, as far as we know. He’s a viable candidate.”

“No,” Naruto said, too fast. “Definitely not.”

“Then why not?” another councilor pressed.

Her mouth opened, and before her brain could catch up, the words were already tumbling out: “Because… he’s engaged. To me. Already.”

Silence.

Then the noblewoman’s lips curved. “Perfect. Since we already consider you a representative of Amegakure, this bond becomes even more favorable.”

Naruto’s stomach dropped. Oh no. No, no, no.

She could almost see herself from above — a shinobi who’d just run headlong into a trap of her own making. How was she going to break this to Kakashi? How was she going to explain that she’d just announced their engagement to an entire council?

The image of the market flickered in her mind. Empty baskets. Thin hands clutching rain-wet crusts of bread. The kids who didn’t have another week to wait.

She exhaled through her nose, rain slipping down her temple. Fine. She’d figure it out. Somehow.

And pray to every kami listening that her former sensei didn’t kill her first.

—

The rain followed her out of the council hall like it meant to chase her across every border.

By the time Naruto reached the village gates, her cloak was plastered to her shoulders and the streets had emptied into the comfort of dim, dry rooms. She didn’t stop to rest, didn’t bother to wait for the downpour to thin. Every hour the council’s words echoed in her head — You are the Rain’s Hero… that makes you ours.

The market’s empty stalls were still burned into her sight. So were the children.

She cut a straight line out of Amegakure, boots splashing through muddy ruts on the old trade road. The border watch knew her face, so the gates opened without question. Past that, it was just the endless stretch of slick grassland and the hiss of rain on leaves.

Night bled into day, then into night again. Her muscles ached from the mission she’d just completed, but the urgency wouldn’t let her stop. Every time her pace slowed, she saw the noblewoman’s calm smile across the table — not smug, not mocking, just certain that she’d planted the seed.

By the time Konoha’s walls rose through the mist, the rain had turned to a thin, steady drizzle. She pushed through the gate without a word to the guard, cutting across the sleeping streets until she reached the familiar slope of the Hatake residence.

No detours. No time to change. Not even time to think.

Naruto raised her fist and knocked.

—

Back to the present.

He stared at her for another long beat, the kind that made the air between them feel heavier. Then he exhaled slowly, almost like this was just one more thing on a long list. “…Sure.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s it? You’re not even gonna yell at me? Or say no?”

“I’ve been Hokage for two years,” Kakashi said, already turning toward the kitchen. “If fake being engaged to you keeps you from sneaking into Amegakure every other week, it’s worth it. What could possibly go wrong?”

The dogs exchanged a look that said they knew exactly what could go wrong.

By the time he reached the counter, Naruto was already peeling herself out of her rain-soaked layers, leaving a heap of damp travel coats by the door like a wet breadcrumb trail. She didn’t ask permission before flopping onto his couch, still muttering under her breath.

“…rice shipment three days late, kids are splitting crusts, council’s arguing over trade routes like that’s gonna fill anyone’s stomach…” Her voice carried over the soft clink of him pulling down cups from the cabinet. “And then they have the nerve to—”

He let her words blur into background noise. Not because they didn’t matter — they did — but because he’d already pieced together the situation between her rushed explanation and that guilty look she thought she was hiding.

This wasn’t new.

She’d run herself raw for Amegakure before, and for every other place she’d decided was worth her time. And every time, she came back like this — dripping rain and trouble onto his floors, carrying causes she shouldn’t have to shoulder alone.

The only difference tonight was that she’d managed to rope him into it before he’d even had the chance to say no.

The kettle began to rattle. He measured out the tea leaves and let them steep, grateful for the familiar rhythm. If he lingered too long on the engaged part, he might start imagining all the ways this could spin out — and he’d already decided there was no point wasting energy on panic.

When he came back with two steaming cups, the couch was silent. Naruto was sprawled sideways, head tipped against the armrest, breathing slow and even. Sleep had taken her mid-sentence.

Kakashi set both cups down, sighed, and tugged the nearest blanket over her. The dogs watched him with pointed amusement.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he told them quietly. “She’s going to keep doing this.”

She was too comfortable here. Too unguarded. And he was starting to suspect she’d never once thought of him as anything other than a safe harbor — not as a man, not as a possibility, certainly not as the other half of a marriage, real or not.

Which was fine.
Probably.

Kakashi settled into his chair with his own cup, the steam fogging his mask. Outside, the rain kept falling, steady and unbothered by the bargain she’d just made for both of them.

Warm.
That was the first thing Naruto noticed. Warm, soft, and… familiar.

She blinked against the pale wash of morning light leaking through half-drawn curtains. The blanket was heavier than hers, the sheets carrying a clean, faintly rainy scent that curled into her lungs before she could think about it too much. Tea leaves, cedar, and something else that was just… Kakashi.

Her muscles loosened automatically — then tensed just as fast.

This wasn’t her bed.

She sat up too quickly, nearly tangling herself in the blanket. Flashes from the night before came rushing back: the knock, the tea, the couch—

Except she wasn’t on the couch.

Something sizzled faintly beyond the door, the air warm with the smell of grilled fish and miso. Naruto swung her legs out of bed, bare feet touching cool wood, and padded down the short hall.

Kakashi was at the counter, sleeves rolled, flak vest zipped, hair perfectly in place like he’d woken up ready for a mission. He didn’t look up from the pan.

“You sleep like a rockslide,” he said lightly.

Naruto narrowed her eyes. “You have a spare room. You could’ve moved me there.”

That earned her a glance over his shoulder, the corner of his eye crinkling. “Just making sure you know what you’re getting after telling the Amegakure council we’re already engaged.”

It took her a second to connect the dots. “…Wait. This is about—oh, you’re enjoying this. You’re making sure I don’t get out of this easy.”

“I’ll take whatever I can,” Kakashi said, voice smooth as the steam curling off the miso pot, “especially if it means I get to see that embarrassed face any chance I get.”

Naruto groaned. “Ugh, I’m gonna regret this.”

“I’m hoping you will.”

“You wish.” She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Bring it on, Hatake.”

He set a plate on the counter with a soft clink. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Naruto hesitated. “…What is for breakfast?”

“Rice, grilled mackerel, and miso,” he answered, like it was an everyday question with an everyday answer.

And for a second — standing in his kitchen, hair still damp from the night before, the smell of breakfast settling between them — she could almost see what married mornings might look like.

—

Breakfast hadn’t taken long. Kakashi ate with his usual unhurried precision while Naruto powered through hers like she had somewhere to be — which, unfortunately, was the Hokage’s office with him.

They stepped out into the sunlight, the air still carrying the faint dampness of last night’s rain. Kakashi locked the door behind them, tugging his gloves on.

“You’re heading straight to the office, right?” she asked, matching his stride.

“Where else would your fiancé be going?” he replied, perfectly casual.

Naruto shot him a sideways glare. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just making sure you’re practicing the wording,” he said lightly. “Wouldn’t want you slipping up in public.”

“You mean slipping up more than I already have?” she muttered.

“Exactly.”

They turned down the main street, the steady hum of the morning market swelling around them. Heads began to turn — not because the sight was unfamiliar, but because it had been a long time. There’d been a time when Naruto and Kakashi walking shoulder to shoulder was an everyday thing, their easy bickering a background note in the village’s rhythm. But since the war — and especially since he’d taken the Hokage’s seat — those moments had become rare. Seeing them together like this in the bright morning, trading jabs like nothing had changed, was enough to make people look twice.

A pair of chunin outside a supply shop paused mid-conversation to watch them pass. A shopkeeper greeted Naruto warmly, then let his eyes flick toward Kakashi, his smile just a fraction more curious than usual.

Naruto leaned closer without breaking stride. “You do realize this is going to start rumors, right?”

Kakashi didn’t look at her. “They’re just getting used to the idea of us being engaged.”

“They don’t know we’re engaged!” she hissed.

“Then you’d better tell them,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want Amegakure thinking you’ve changed your mind.”

She elbowed him hard enough to jostle his sleeve. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re committed. At least, according to international diplomacy.”

By the time they reached the base of the Hokage’s tower, the quiet murmurs following them had already multiplied — not quite scandal, not quite harmless nostalgia. Just enough to make the morning air feel charged.

–

Inside, the Hokage’s office smelled faintly of fresh ink and open windows. Scrolls were stacked in their usual precarious towers on one side of Kakashi’s desk, and Shikamaru was leaning against the opposite wall, flipping through a folder like he was only half-paying attention.

He was paying attention.The second Naruto and Kakashi stepped through the door together, his eyes narrowed a fraction.

“You came in together,” he said flatly. Not a question — an observation that sounded suspiciously like an accusation.

Naruto blinked. “Yeah? We live in the same village, you know.”

Shikamaru closed the folder, gaze flicking between them like he was lining up shogi pieces. “You never come in together. Not in months.”

Kakashi breezed past the comment, dropping into his chair. “Good morning to you too, Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru’s eyes stayed on Naruto. “Something happened.”

“Plenty of things happen,” Naruto said with a shrug that was definitely too casual.

Neither confirmed. Neither denied.

Shikamaru exhaled slowly, the kind of sigh that said I can already see the mess this will turn into. He shook his head, muttering, “Troublesome…” before shifting gears.“You haven’t completed your last mission report,” he said, eyes narrowing. “And you cannot keep having Konohamaru fill it out for you.”

Naruto bristled. “I was going to—”

“You weren’t,” Shikamaru cut in.

Kakashi chuckled behind his desk, flipping open a scroll. “You heard the man.”

Naruto shot him a glare but grabbed the blank report from the edge of the desk anyway, muttering under her breath about nitpicking and slave drivers as she pulled a chair up to start writing.

Shikamaru returned to his corner, watching her work like he was bracing for a storm.

—-

Naruto hunched over the desk Shikamaru had pointed her to, pen scratching quickly across the page. She didn’t just write; she attacked the report like it was a sparring match, each sentence punctuated with a determined jab of ink. Every so often she paused, chewing on the pen cap, then scribbled something else like she’d just remembered a detail worth throwing in before it slipped away.

Kakashi glanced up from his own paperwork. Old habits made it easy to read her in moments like this — the restless bounce of her knee, the way her mouth twisted when she skipped over the parts she didn’t want to explain, the focus that burned hot and fast before inevitably burning out.

Once, he’d spent years watching her like this from the other side of a training ground, assessing her strengths and where she’d trip herself up. That part of him hadn’t gone anywhere, even if the titles had changed.

Across the room, Shikamaru was watching too — though his gaze was less about form and more about fallout. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his stare was its own warning: this wasn’t over.

Naruto must have felt the attention because she glanced up suddenly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kakashi said easily, eyes already on the scroll in his hands.

Her frown lingered for a moment before she bent back to the report. Kakashi let his own attention drift back to his work, though he caught himself listening for the soft scrape of her pen as if it mattered whether she stopped.

Outside, the village murmured on, but inside the office, it was just the quiet scratch of ink and the measured breath of people already tangled in something bigger than they were ready to admit.

–

The pen landed on the desk with a small click.

“There.” Naruto slid the completed mission report toward Shikamaru with the satisfied look of someone who’d just survived a chore she hated.

Shikamaru skimmed the first few lines, exhaled in a way that said barely acceptable , and tucked it into the growing stack on his desk. “Try finishing these on time next mission,” he muttered.

“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” she replied, deadpan, pushing back from her chair.

Naruto had one hand on the door when Kakashi’s voice floated lazily from behind his desk. “Don’t go too far.”

She turned, brow furrowed. “Why?”

“There’s a diplomatic meeting in twenty minutes.” He didn’t even look up from the scroll in his hands. “You’re sitting in.”

Naruto blinked. “Since when do I get invited to those?”

Kakashi’s tone was smooth enough to sound offhand, but the words were deliberate. “Since your fiancé needs to be seen working in step with his Amegakure counterpart. I wanted our relationship private, but you slipped up in front of Amegakure anyway. Now our engagement is a village affair.”

It took Naruto a beat to catch on — then his phrasing landed, and she felt the flick of the kunai-sharp cue he’d just handed her. “Oh,” she said, straightening like she’d been ready for this all along. “Right. Yes. Our engagement.”

Kurama stirred lazily in the back of her mind. Hn. You’re terrible at lying.

Shut up, she thought back, keeping her face neutral.

She crossed the room and perched casually on the edge of Kakashi’s desk, angled toward him just enough to look like the kind of closeness that made people speculate. “Guess it was only a matter of time, huh?” she added, as if to no one in particular.

Kakashi’s visible eye curved faintly. “Apparently.”

Shikamaru’s gaze moved between them, slow and deliberate. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look impressed. “…You know this is weird, right?”

Naruto raised a brow. “Weird? Really? I thought we did well.”

“I don’t buy it,” Shikamaru said flatly, already gathering another stack of papers. “Try harder. And good luck in that meeting.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Naruto muttered.

Shikamaru slouched back into his chair, muttering under his breath, “This is going to be a pain…”

Kurama chuckled in the back of her mind. He’s not wrong.

The conference room smelled faintly of ink, polished wood, and the faint bitter tang of brewed tea. Delegates from Amegakure and Konoha’s trade ministry were already seated when Kakashi entered — Naruto at his side, steps perfectly matched like they’d rehearsed it.

They hadn’t rehearsed it.

It was just muscle memory from years of moving in formation, a silent rhythm they both fell into without thinking.

Kurama’s voice was dry in Naruto’s head. Careful. You’re walking like you’re about to take a battlefield together, not sit in a meeting.

Same difference, she thought back, keeping her smile easy as Kakashi pulled out a chair for her like a gentleman from some formal novel.

Across the table, the Amegakure delegates took notice — eyes flicking from one to the other, then back again. One of them, a thin man with silver-threaded hair, smiled in a way that was far too knowing. “Hokage-sama. Uzumaki-san. A pleasure to see you… together.”

“Likewise,” Kakashi said smoothly, seating himself beside her. “My fiancée and I are looking forward to discussing our continued cooperation.”

Naruto didn’t even flinch at the word fiancée . She rested her forearms on the table, nodding like she’d been sitting in diplomatic meetings her whole life. “Especially where supply lines are concerned. We both know hungry kids don’t care what flag’s flying over the grain carts.”

Shikamaru, stationed just behind Kakashi’s chair, was already dying internally. Watching them volley off each other like they’d been planning this for weeks was… unsettling. Annoying. And — he’d admit only to himself — not bad. Not bad at all.

The Amegakure envoy leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “It’s good to see such unity between our leadership.”

Naruto’s smile was warm, but her tone was sharp enough to cut. “Unity’s easy when you’ve fought side by side for years.”

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “Or sat through too many mission debriefings together.”

A faint ripple of amusement moved around the table — enough to make the tension ease just slightly.

Shikamaru’s gaze narrowed as he watched them slide into the same rhythm they’d always had in the field: Kakashi setting the pace, Naruto pressing the point, both of them instinctively covering the other’s blind spots. It was effortless. It was convincing.

It was going to be a nightmare to maintain.

Kurama’s voice rumbled in Naruto’s mind. Well… you’ve got the act down. Now you just have to survive it.

She didn’t dare glance at Kakashi, but from the faint curve of his visible eye, she knew he’d heard enough in her posture to guess what the fox had just said.

The office door clicked shut behind them, and Naruto slumped into the nearest chair like she’d just run ten laps around the village. “That,” she said, pointing at him, “was exhausting.”

Kakashi loosened his gloves with lazy precision. “You did well.”

She gave him a look. “I had to sit there while you kept… complimenting me.”

“I was complimenting my fiancée,” He corrected, entirely too smoothly.

Naruto rubbed her hands over her face. “Yeah, well, I had to look at you like you hung the moon. You know how weird that was?”

Kurama’s chuckle rumbled low in her head. Not as weird as how good you were at it.

She dropped her hands to glare at the empty air. “Shut it.”

Kakashi tilted his head, faint amusement in his eye. “Talking to the fox or me?”

“Both.”

He leaned against the desk, arms folded, his shadow stretching over her. “You kept the pace. Matched the tone. Made it sound like we actually enjoy each other’s company.”

“We do enjoy each other’s company,” she said, before realizing how that sounded. “I mean—”

He smirked. “Careful. People might start to believe it.”

She let her head fall back against the chair with a groan. “I’m going to regret this.”

“I’m counting on it.”

For a moment, neither moved — just the sound of paper shifting on his desk and the faint hum of the village outside. And under all of it, an unspoken truth: they might just be able to pull this off.

If they could survive each other.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Between the Lies

Konoha – Council Chamber 

Three Days Later.

The news didn’t so much arrive as it crashed — a tide of rumor that swelled over three days until it reached the council chamber in full force.

The Hokage is engaged.
To Amegakure’s own representative.
They’ve been seeing each other for months in secret.

By the time Naruto and Kakashi walked into the meeting, the air was thick with it. Civilian members sat straighter. The shinobi representatives paused mid-discussion. Even the scribes had their brushes poised above the parchment like they didn’t dare blink.

“Is there,” the head of the civilian council began delicately, “truth to these… reports?”

Kakashi didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The word dropped like a kunai in still water.

Naruto swallowed the urge to add anything — she’d learned quickly that sometimes the less you said, the more people filled in the blanks themselves. But when the silence stretched, she forced a smile that felt like it might crack her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be public yet. We were… keeping it private for a while.”

Kakashi’s eye curved just enough to look fond. “Until someone let it slip in Amegakure.”

She blinked at him, then caught the cue. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“It’s always your fault,” Kakashi said, tone far too gentle to match the words.

A low ripple went around the table — a few curious smiles, a few raised brows. The shinobi council head actually leaned back, studying them like they were an odd but interesting jutsu demonstration.

Tsunade, however, wasn’t smiling. She folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “Naruto.”

“Yes, Granny—Tsunade,” Naruto corrected quickly.

“This is… unexpected,” Tsunade said slowly, as if weighing every word. “Kakashi’s my successor. You’re—” she stopped herself, jaw tightening, “—important to the village. This isn’t something I take lightly.”

“It’s not something I take lightly either,” Kakashi said before Naruto could speak. His voice was even, but there was a weight to it — the kind of quiet that made people lean in. “Naruto matters to me. Always has.”

Kurama’s low chuckle curled through her mind. Careful, kit. The man’s got game.

Shut up, she hissed inwardly, heat rising in her ears.

Tsunade’s gaze flicked between them, her frown caught somewhere between suspicion and reluctant acceptance. “You’ve always been an upstanding man, Kakashi. Romantically involved with Naruto, though…” She let the thought trail off, unreadable. “…Maybe not as far-fetched as I’d have said a few years ago.”

Naruto wasn’t sure if that was approval or just resignation, but it was better than open opposition.

Shikamaru, seated near the back, muttered something that sounded like “what a drag” but looked faintly impressed.

Kakashi reached over and, without a flicker of hesitation, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder. The motion was so natural, so practiced, that for a second even she almost believed it.

By the time the meeting adjourned, the murmurs had shifted from sharp suspicion to speculative whispering. If they kept this up, they might actually pull it off.

—

The council chamber doors swung shut behind her, and Naruto had barely taken three steps down the hallway before a firm hand closed around her elbow.

She turned — and found herself staring into Tsunade’s sharp, assessing gaze.

“Walk with me,” The older woman said, steering them away from the lingering aides. Her voice was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way she was studying Naruto’s face. “When exactly did you fall in love with Kakashi?”

Naruto’s mouth opened — and nothing came out.

Oh, there you go, kit, Kurama’s voice purred in her head. You’ve got to make this good.

“It’s, uh—” she flailed, reaching for something, anything. “It just… happened, y’know? One day he was my sensei, the next he was… Kakashi. Tall. Smart. Reads too much but in a hot way. Uh… that hair—” She winced, realizing she was still talking. “And the mask, obviously. And his hands. Have you seen his hands? Not that I stare. That much.”

By the time she ran out of words, her face was so hot she was sure the windows could fog over.

Tsunade barked a laugh, the sound rich and delighted. “You’re terrible at lying, brat.” But there was a glint in her eyes that wasn’t entirely dismissive. “Still… there’s something under all that babble, isn’t there?”

Naruto’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, but Tsunade didn’t wait for an answer.

“Well,” Tsunade said, grin widening, “I know for sure Hatake’s always been gorgeous — per your gibberish description, no questions there. But…” Her voice softened, just enough to slip under Naruto’s guard. “Be careful. Love can be both heaven and hell at the same time. Just make sure you know how to handle it.”

And with that, Tsunade strode away, leaving Naruto in the hallway with Kurama’s smug laughter echoing in her mind.

If I didn’t know better, the fox drawled, I’d say you almost meant half of that.

Naruto groaned. Shut. Up.

------

Naruto was still standing in the hallway, replaying every stupid word she’d just blurted to Tsunade, when the office door opened behind her.

Kakashi stepped out, adjusting his gloves. “Why’s your face red?”

Her brain stalled. She had just spent the last three minutes describing him — to their former Hokage — as tall, smart, mysterious, hot, and something about his hands, oh god. Now here he was in the flesh, looking every bit like the man she’d accidentally painted him to be.

She gawked at him like she was trying to solve a particularly dangerous puzzle.

His brow lifted under the hitai-ate. “…Do you need fresh air?”

It took her a second to realize he meant, let’s get out of here. She nodded before her mind could catch up.

They slipped out of the Hokage tower together, the late afternoon sun turning Konoha’s rooftops gold. The market street was already bustling — vendors calling out their wares, children darting between stalls, the smell of grilled skewers in the air.

It didn’t take long.

Heads turned. Whispers followed. Someone dropped the word engaged with the kind of tone usually reserved for fireworks.

Naruto kept her hands shoved in her pockets, pretending not to hear. Kakashi walked beside her like it was just another patrol — easy stride, hands loose, mask hiding whatever he might actually be thinking.

They passed a pair of older women at a fabric stall.

“That’s them,” one murmured.

“I heard it was a secret romance for years,” the other whispered back.

Naruto felt her ears go hot. “They’re getting creative,” she muttered under her breath.

“Better than them thinking we’re doing this for politics,” Kakashi replied mildly.

She shot him a look. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who—” she cut herself off, realizing oh no, she was about to say described your hands to Tsunade.

Kakashi tilted his head at her sudden silence, his eyes watching her in that unreadable way that made her feel like he could hear her thoughts anyway.

The whispers followed them down the street. And Naruto couldn’t help thinking that the longer they walked like this, shoulder to shoulder, the more dangerous this whole game was starting to feel.

---

The market noise eventually faded behind them as Kakashi guided their route with the same unhurried pace he’d used a hundred times before on missions. Somewhere between the dumpling shop and the river bridge, Naruto realized her pulse had settled back to normal.

It wasn’t magic. It was just him.

He didn’t push the topic of the engagement. He didn’t tease, didn’t prod. Instead, he asked about her last mission, about a new ramen cart by the south gate, about whether she’d seen the latest Icha Icha cover art (she hadn’t, and pretended she didn’t want to).

By the time the dirt path under their boots turned to grass, they had wandered far enough that the village hum was replaced by the steady rustle of leaves. Training Ground Three opened in front of them — quiet, sunlit, exactly as it had been years ago.

Neither of them said a word as they crossed to the familiar patch of grass beneath the largest tree. They sat, backs leaning against the rough bark, eyes half-lidded. The breeze moved through the branches above them like a long exhale.

Naruto broke the silence first, her voice softer than she intended. “…Thanks.”

Kakashi glanced sideways. “For what?”

“For always tolerating me.” She gestured vaguely — at herself, at him, at the years between them. “This. Everything.”

He studied her for a beat, the kind of look that could have been a smile if the mask didn’t hide it. “I wouldn’t call it tolerating.”

Her mouth quirked. “…What would you call it?”

“Habit,” he said lightly, turning his gaze back to the trees. “One I’m not looking to break.”

For a long while, they stayed there, listening to the wind and the occasional creak of branches — and in that easy quiet, it was almost possible to forget the performance waiting for them beyond the gates.

---

By the time they started heading back toward the village center, the sun had dropped low enough to set the rooftops in gold. Naruto’s mood had evened out; Kakashi walked beside her, hands in his pockets, like the afternoon had been nothing more than a long, aimless stroll.

They rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into Sakura and Ino.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Okay. What is this?”

Naruto blinked. “Uh… walking?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Sakura folded her arms. “The entire village is buzzing about you two being engaged.” Her gaze cut between them like she was trying to spot the seam in the story. “I don’t buy it for a second.”

Before Naruto could respond, Ino let out a dramatic gasp, clasping her hands under her chin. “Oh my god, it makes so much sense! The way he’s always looked at you, Naruto — like you’re about to do something stupid but also like he can’t look away.”

Naruto’s jaw actually dropped. “What?!”

Ino nodded earnestly, as if she were revealing a long-suspected truth. “Don’t tell me you never noticed. All those missions, all those years? Of course it was only a matter of time.”

Naruto whipped her head toward Kakashi, ready to see him scoff, or wave it off, or at least say something.

He didn’t.

He just kept walking, eye crinkling faintly above the mask, like Ino’s theory didn’t need confirming or denying.

Naruto stumbled a step to catch up, heat crawling up the back of her neck. Kurama , she hissed in her head.

The fox’s chuckle was low and smug. Told you, kit. He’s got game. You might be the one in trouble here.

Naruto’s neck was still warm from Ino’s words when the blonde suddenly looped an arm through hers.

“Don’t worry,” Ino said with the brisk determination of a woman who’d just found her new favorite project. “I’ll make sure you have the perfect flowers. And don’t you dare say you don’t have a date picked out yet — we can work around that.”

Naruto nearly tripped over her own feet. “Wait—flowers?!”

“Obviously,” Ino breezed on. “You can’t tell me the great Hokage and his bride-to-be aren’t going to have the most beautiful wedding Konoha’s ever seen.”

Sakura sighed like she’d aged five years in the last five minutes. “You’re already planning their wedding? They just—” She cut herself off, rubbing at her temple. “You know what? Fine. Do what you want. But don’t rope me into whatever chaos this turns into.”

Kakashi’s eye curved faintly. “Noted.”

Naruto shot him a glare that said you could help me out here. He didn’t take the bait.

By the time they escaped Ino’s grip and turned down a quieter street, Naruto was muttering under her breath about being buried in peonies. Kakashi’s pace never changed, hands still in his pockets.

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

“I’m not not enjoying it,” he replied.

Kurama’s snicker rumbled through her mind. And that, kit, is what makes him dangerous.

–

The smell of grilled yakitori drifted from a small food stall just ahead. A grizzled veteran in a faded flak jacket was seated on the bench outside, nursing a cup of sake.

As they passed, the man looked up — and his weathered face broke into a smile. “Well, I’ll be damned. I thought it was just market gossip.”

Naruto slowed. “Uh—”

“Congratulations, both of you,” He said warmly, leaning his elbows on his knees. “About time our Hokage had someone who’ll keep him in line. You’ve got a good one there, Hatake.”

Kakashi inclined his head in polite acknowledgment, the eye-crease almost invisible but there. “I know.”

It was so simple, so unhesitating, that Naruto felt the words settle somewhere between her ribs. She managed a quick “Thanks” before the old man returned to his drink, leaving her to wonder if he’d just meant the compliment… or the claim.---

They made it back to the Hatake residence just as the light began to fade, the air cool with the promise of rain.

Kakashi was just fishing his keys from a pocket when a figure dropped soundlessly onto the porch rail.

“Yamato-sensei?” Naruto blinked.

The ex-ANBU captain gave her a slow nod, then looked at Kakashi. “So, it’s true then?”

Kakashi unlocked the door without missing a beat. “What, that you’ve gotten sloppy with your stealth? Definitely.”

Yamato’s mouth twitched. “The engagement.”

Naruto forced a grin. “Yup. Totally true. Nothing but romance over here.”

Yamato’s gaze lingered a moment longer, as if he could see through every layer of the act — then he simply said, “Huh,” and vaulted away into the gathering dark.

Naruto blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Kurama hummed in her head. You two might actually survive this. Or burn the whole village down trying.

Kakashi stepped inside, holding the door for her. “Either way,” he said, “we should eat.”

---

Naruto rinsed the last cup, set it upside-down on the rack, and wiped her hands on the towel.

“Well,” she said, stretching her arms over her head, “Thanks for dinner. I’ll get out of your hair.”

She was halfway to the door when Kakashi’s voice stopped her. “Just stay in the spare room.”

She turned, blinking. “…What?”

“You’ve been running all over the place for days,” he said, leaning a hip against the counter. “It’s late. No point in you trudging home when there’s a perfectly good bed here.”

Naruto opened her mouth, closed it, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re not doing this for the engagement thing, are you?”

“Of course not,” Kakashi replied smoothly. “That’s just a bonus.”

Her cheeks warmed despite herself. “I’m not that tired.”

“You’re yawning.”

“I am not—” A yawn ambushed her mid-sentence, and Kakashi’s eyes curved in that infuriating almost-smile.

Kurama snorted in her head. Alright, kit. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.

Naruto crossed her arms. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like walking home. And I’m stealing the fluffiest pillow.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kakashi said, already heading for the hall to grab her an extra blanket.

She watched him go, muttering under her breath about smug Hokages — but her feet were already carrying her toward the spare room.

-----

Kakashi reappeared a moment later, not just with an extra blanket, but with a small stack in his hands.

Naruto frowned. “What’s all that?”

“Your necessities,” he said, setting them neatly on the dresser in the spare room. “Toothbrush, towel, spare hair tie… couple of shirts in your size.”

She blinked at him. “You have my size?”

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been your sensei, your commander, and now your fiancé. Of course I do.”

Her brain stuttered. “…That’s— That’s personal stuff.”

“I like to be thorough,” he replied, tone as mild as if they were discussing mission inventory. “If we’re going to keep this lie going, I can’t get caught without my fiancée’s things invading my home space. People notice details.”

Naruto just stared at him, caught between indignation and something she didn’t want to name. “You’ve thought this through way too much.”

“That’s my job,” he said simply.

Kurama gave a low, knowing hum in her head. Thorough, hm? You might be in deeper than you think, kit.

Naruto shoved the blanket under her arm and muttered, “I’m going to bed,” before he could see her face.

----

The spare room was warm, the rain tapping gently at the shutters.

Naruto stretched out under the blanket, the faint scent of laundry soap and something faintly woodsy clinging to the fabric.

She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.

But she kept hearing him — the soft shuffle of his steps in the hall, the faint clink of ceramic as he set a cup in the sink, the creak of floorboards when he passed her door on the way to his own room.

She realized she’d never really noticed the sound of Kakashi at home before. On missions, yes — the quiet shift of his weight before moving, the low, precise tone of his voice in the dark — but here it was different. Slower. Unhurried.

Her mind snagged on small things she’d never thought about: the way he rolled his sleeves before cooking, the almost careless grace of his movements, the low timbre of his laugh when something actually amused him.

He’d always been her sensei. Always been Kakashi. But lying there, listening to the rhythm of his home life, she couldn’t help but think… had he always had that quiet, steady pull to him? That aura that made the air feel just a little different when he was near?

Kurama’s voice brushed across her thoughts, sly and amused. Oh, you’re noticing now, huh?

She groaned into the pillow. “Shut up.”

Sleep crept in eventually, but it carried those thoughts with it — and she wasn’t sure she liked where they might lead.

------

The first thing she noticed was the smell — grilled fish and miso, faint steam curling under the door.

The second thing was that she’d slept well. Too well.

Naruto dragged herself upright, hair mussed, shirt collar skewed from a night of tossing. She ran a hand through her hair, which only made it worse, then decided she didn’t care. Or maybe she cared too much. Either way, she stepped into the hall.

Kakashi was at the stove, sleeves rolled, vest unzipped over a black undershirt. The morning light caught in his hair, silver bright against the darker strands. He turned at the sound of her steps, mask tugged down just enough to sip his coffee.

For a split second, his gaze lingered.

She was a mess — hair sticking out in stubborn tufts, shirt sliding off one shoulder, bare toes curling against the floor — but there was something about it that caught him. Maybe it was the warmth in her face from sleep, or the way her eyes were still soft with dreams.

He shifted back to the pan a moment too late. “Morning,” he said, voice low, still rough from sleep.

Naruto froze, suddenly aware of everything: his bare jawline, the steady line of his shoulders, the faint smell of coffee clinging to him. “Uh… morning.”

Kurama’s chuckle rumbled in her head. You’re staring, kit.

I am not.

So is he.

Kakashi set the fish on a plate, slid it toward her, and said nothing about the faint flush on her cheeks. She said nothing about the way his gaze had caught, even if just for a heartbeat.

Neither of them admitted a thing.

Naruto had just picked up her chopsticks when Kakashi’s gaze flicked past her to the doorway.

She turned to see a Konoha messenger standing there, scroll in hand, eyes darting between the two of them like they’d walked in on something private.

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. He rested a hand lightly on Naruto’s shoulder as he crossed behind her — easy, casual, just enough to play the part. “What is it?” he asked the messenger, voice calm but authoritative.

The poor chūnin’s ears went red. “Uh—urgent summons from the Amegakure aides. They’ve requested both you and Uzumaki-san to attend a… follow-up discussion.”

“Of course,” Kakashi said smoothly, plucking the scroll from their hand. “Tell them we’ll be there shortly.”

The messenger nodded quickly and made themselves scarce.

Naruto stared after them, then twisted in her seat to glare at Kakashi. “Damn you and your Hokage business. Can’t it wait for the office?”

“Not usually,” he said, setting the scroll aside and taking another sip of coffee like they had all the time in the world. Then his eyes curved faintly. “You’d better get used to it.”

She huffed, stabbing a piece of mackerel a little too aggressively. “If this is married life, I’m already annoyed.”

“Then it’s going perfectly,” he replied, just smug enough to make her want to throw her chopsticks.

Kurama chuckled in her head. Careful, kit. He’s making it look easy.

—-

By the time they left the house, the streets were already awake with vendors setting up stalls and shinobi trading nods on their way to morning shifts.

It didn’t take long for heads to turn.

Kakashi had always been the quiet sort of legend in Konoha — the kind that drew looks without trying, half because he was handsome, half because he was dangerous, and wholly because he was now Hokage. Naruto, on the other hand, had been impossible to ignore since childhood — once the village’s loud-mouthed prankster, then the girl who returned from training with Jiraiya leaner, sharper, her grin framed by a face that had lost its baby roundness. After the war, she carried herself with a confidence that made people stop mid-step.

Together, they were… striking.

Too striking to ignore.

“Off the market, huh?” a passing chūnin muttered to his teammate, not even bothering to lower his voice.

“About time,” the other replied. “Just imagine the kids they’d give Konoha. Hatake and Uzumaki blood? That’s talent for generations.”

Naruto’s step hitched. Kids?

She’d been so focused on surviving the fake engagement — the looks, the questions, the whole political minefield — that she hadn’t stopped to think about the part where marriage usually meant… more. A lot more.

Kurama’s chuckle uncoiled lazily in the back of her mind. Ohhh. You didn’t think about that part, did you, kit?

Shut it , she snapped inwardly, keeping her face straight.

Kakashi didn’t comment, but she caught the faint curve of his eye when he glanced at her — like he’d caught her stumble and knew exactly why.

The murmurs didn’t stop as they walked.

“Kids be unstoppable in the Chūnin Exams.”

“Konoha’s power couple.”

“She finally caught him.”

“No, no — he caught her.”

By the time they reached the administrative wing, Naruto’s ears were hot. Kakashi adjusted his pace so their shoulders lined up perfectly — a subtle gesture, but one that made the act look seamless.

If they were going to sell this, they had to look like they belonged together. And right now… it was working.

—---

The council chamber was already warm with the body heat of too many people crammed into one room. Amegakure’s aides sat clustered on one side of the long table, scrolls neatly stacked, rain-dark cloaks hanging from the wall pegs. On the other, Konoha’s council members waited with varying degrees of politeness and suspicion.

Naruto followed Kakashi in, her posture straight, steps even with his. It was a deliberate choice — shoulder to shoulder, moving like they’d rehearsed it, though they hadn’t. Years of missions together had carved their rhythm into muscle memory.

Every head turned.

“Lord Hokage. Lady Uzumaki.” The lead Amegakure aide inclined her head, eyes sliding between them with obvious interest. “It’s… pleasant to see you together.”

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “Where else would I be?” His tone was smooth enough to draw a faint smile from the aide, the kind of answer that sounded like affection but doubled as political reassurance.

Naruto took her seat beside him, offering the aides the kind of smile that had once gotten her past enemy checkpoints without a single forged document. “And where else would I be, if not supporting my fiancé?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Shikamaru in the back row, arms folded, gaze flat. The tiniest shake of his head said try harder.

The meeting moved into the standard agenda — trade route discussions, grain allocations, reconstruction timelines — but every so often, Kakashi would lean closer to murmur something in her ear, and she’d tilt her head just enough that it looked like an intimate aside. A hand on the back of her chair here, her fingers brushing his sleeve there — tiny pieces of choreography, casual to the point of convincing.

And yet, each contact sparked awareness. She could feel the heat of his palm through her jacket. Smell the faint trace of his soap when he leaned in.

By the time the aides finally stood to leave, the Konoha council had been treated to a full display of unity — subtle, polished, and dangerously close to believable.

Shikamaru met their eyes as they passed. He didn’t say a word. But the faint smirk tugging at his mouth said it all,  Not bad.

---

They stepped out into the late afternoon light, the heavy doors of the council chamber closing behind them. The muffled voices inside faded into the steady hum of the village.

Naruto exhaled, shoulders sagging. “…That’s…” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “I don’t know if I can keep that up much longer.”

Kakashi’s hands slid into his pockets, his pace unhurried beside her. “You realize this is just the beginning, right?” His tone was mild, but the reminder landed. “And think about Amegakure.”

She shot him a sideways look. “You know that’s borderline emotional blackmail.”

“…Coming from the person who dragged me into this mess,” he replied, without even glancing over.

Naruto opened her mouth for a retort, then shut it again. No comeback came to mind, so she just gave him a flat look.

His visible eye narrowed slightly. “What? Am I making you uncomfortable?” The question carried no tease this time — just quiet curiosity.

Her gaze dropped to the cobblestones under her boots. “…No. Just… not used to touches,” she said finally, voice softer than she meant.

They walked in silence for a few steps before Kakashi added, almost offhand, “If it makes you feel better… you can be the one doing the touching.”

Naruto stopped mid-stride and stared at him like he’d just confessed to hiding a second Hokage Monument in his backyard. “What on earth makes you think I want to touch you?”

Kakashi didn’t answer — just let out a low laugh, the sound warm enough to nudge the air between them back into something easier.

And just like that, the tension dissolved, leaving them walking side by side again — not quite as far apart as before.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

The Show Must Go On

The council chamber was quieter than usual — no overlapping debates, no shuffling of scrolls. The gravity of the mission briefing had settled over the room like the heavy air before a storm.

Naruto stood at Kakashi’s side, hands behind her back in parade-rest, her expression all business. The map laid out on the table was marked in deep red lines, cutting across enemy territory and vanishing into a stretch of terrain no one in Konoha would name aloud without lowering their voice.

“This route is volatile,” Shikamaru said, voice low as he traced a line toward the objective. “Intelligence confirms multiple rogue cells moving through this sector. None are aligned, but their unpredictability makes them dangerous. This requires subtlety and decisive force — a combination we don’t have in abundance.”

All eyes shifted to Naruto.

Kakashi didn’t move, but his eyes tracked every glance.

“Only Uzumaki can handle this without escalating it,” Mitokado Homura said finally. “We know it’s… difficult to send your fiancée into that kind of risk, Hokage-sama, but—”

Naruto felt more than saw Kakashi’s faint, deliberate inhale. When he spoke, his tone was professional, but it carried just enough of something else — enough to make her spine prickle.

“I don’t like sending her,” Kakashi said, measured and slow, “But I also know what she’s capable of. If anyone can get in and out without drawing unnecessary blood, it’s her.”

The room seemed to register the words in two layers — the Hokage speaking of his most trusted kunoichi, and the fiancé speaking of the woman he supposedly loved.

Utatane Koharu's brows lifted. “Konoha’s lucky to have a Hokage who trusts both the shinobi and his woman.”

Naruto fought the urge to glance at him. Smooth, Hatake.

Kurama’s voice stirred lazily in the back of her mind. Careful, kit. That man’s got game when he wants to. You might be in trouble.

She ignored the heat creeping up her neck and gave a sharp nod. “Understood. When do I leave?”

“Tonight,” Shikamaru replied. “We’ll brief you on final intel after sunset.”

The meeting moved on to logistics, but Naruto could feel Kakashi’s presence like a constant hum at her side — not overbearing, not distant, just there. Every now and then, when another council member mentioned the mission’s dangers, she could sense him turning just slightly toward her, as if measuring her readiness against the risk.

And it was an act. She knew it was an act.  So why did it feel like more than that?

–

The chamber emptied slowly, chairs scraping against the floor and murmurs fading into the hall. Shikamaru lingered only long enough to hand Kakashi a sealed scroll before slipping out, muttering something about checking patrol rotations.

When the door clicked shut, Naruto exhaled. “That was… fun.”

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, the Hokage mask still in place. “You handled it well.”

“That’s what you call it?” She dropped into the seat beside his, drumming her fingers against the table. “Pretty sure Koharu was picturing our wedding menu.”

He didn’t even flinch. “Then the act’s working.”

Naruto squinted at him. “You didn’t have to sell it that much.”

“You wanted believable,” Kakashi said simply, stacking the mission notes. “Believable means looking like I’d rather take the hit than let you walk into danger alone.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “…You mean that.”

His gaze softened, just a fraction. “You’ve been in tighter spots, I know. Doesn’t mean I stop calculating what it’ll cost to send you there.”

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, pressing against a place she didn’t want to examine. She shifted in her chair, forcing a crooked smile. “You’re going to make a lousy fake fiancé if you keep acting like a real one.”

That earned her the faintest upward curl of his eyes. “And you’ll make a lousy fake fiancée if you keep looking at me like that.”

She scoffed, a touch too fast. “Like what?”

“Like you’re wondering if I’m serious.”

She rolled her eyes, but her pulse gave her away. “I should get ready.”

“Do that,” Kakashi said, standing. “I’ll meet you before you leave.”

The courtyard outside the Hokage Tower was quieter at night, but not by much. Torches burned in tall iron sconces, throwing gold light over the gathered shinobi. Their shadows stretched long across the flagstones, swaying with the wind.

Naruto adjusted her pack, feeling the familiar pull of mission weight on her shoulders. This one would take her far from Konoha for days, maybe weeks — and with the council’s eyes on them, the send-off had become a stage.

Kakashi stepped up beside her, his flak vest zipped, gloves snug, every line of him reading steady command. He skimmed the last of the mission scroll, then let his hand brush her arm — light, deliberate.

She caught the cue instantly, brow lifting in silent challenge.

For the onlookers, it was all they needed to see. The protective Hokage touches his fiancée before a dangerous departure. The murmur of voices swelled.

“She’ll be gone a while,” someone whispered.

“They’ll miss each other,” another agreed, watching the way they stood just a little too close.

“Hard on both of them,” a jōnin murmured. “That affection… you can see it.”

Naruto leaned in, ignored the chatter around them and got to work on her part of this play. She pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mask-covered cheek, and murmured so only he could hear, “You did consent to me touching you.” She explained.

From the sidelines, the crowd reacted exactly as she knew they would — a few grins, a few knowing looks, the soft aww of people who’d just witnessed a private moment made public.

Kakashi’s voice was steady under his breath. “And you’re taking full advantage.”

“That’s the point,” she replied, stepping back with a smile that felt too easy. “I was not gonna waste a perfectly good offer.”

The murmurs followed her as she turned away — about how hard it must be for them to part, how long the nights would feel until she returned.

Kakashi’s eyes followed her until she passed beyond the torchlight. “Safe travels,” he said aloud, voice carrying just enough to be heard.

By the time Naruto reached the village gates, the torchlight had thinned to a soft halo behind her. The night air was cooler out here, carrying the faint scent of wet earth and pine. She shifted her pack, settling into the familiar rhythm of long travel.

Well, Kurama’s voice slid into her thoughts like a grin she could hear, you two certainly put on a show.

Naruto rolled her eyes at the empty road ahead. It’s called selling the lie. I thought you’d approve.

Approve? His chuckle rumbled low. You were two breaths away from forgetting it was a lie. The way you leaned in—

“I was playing the part,” she muttered aloud, kicking at a loose stone.

—and the way he looked at you, Kurama went on, ignoring her protest. That wasn’t just for the crowd. He didn’t blink once when you kissed him.

Her steps hitched before she could stop them. You’re reading into it.

Am I? He sounded maddeningly pleased. I’ve been stuck in your head for years, Naruto. I know when your heart rate spikes. It wasn’t because of the mission.

She tightened the strap of her pack, jaw set. “It was nothing.”

Sure it was, Kurama drawled. Just like how you noticed the exact way his hand felt on your arm. And the sound of his voice up close.

Naruto quickened her pace, as if she could outrun him — or herself. “Drop it.”

Kurama laughed again, warm and smug. Fine. But if this keeps up, you won’t need me to tell you you’re in trouble. You’ll already know.

The road stretched out into the dark ahead, and Naruto fixed her eyes on it, willing herself to think only of the mission.

---

The road cut dark through the forest, moonlight flickering in broken patches between the leaves. Naruto’s boots whispered over damp earth, the night alive with the soft chorus of crickets. She’d traveled this way more times than she could count — toward enemy lines, toward danger, toward a fight that might not bring her back.

Usually, her mind would wander to ramen at Ichiraku or what pranks she could pull once she got home. But tonight…

…she caught herself counting. Minutes, hours, days until she’d turn around again. Not for Ichiraku. Not for the victory lap.

For him.

She blew out a sharp breath, as if she could exhale the thought right out of her skull. “Ugh,” she muttered, quickening her pace.

You’re doing it again, Kurama observed lazily.

“Not a word,” she warned.

But she could feel his amusement curling warm in her chest, and it only made her walk faster.

—

In Konoha, the Hokage’s office was warm and over-lit, the air thick with the scent of ink and old paper. Kakashi sat behind his desk, chin propped in his hand, eyes trained on the council table — or, at least, he was trying to make it look that way.

Across from him, three senior advisors argued over agricultural export quotas. Their voices blurred together, punctuated by the scratch of brushes on scrolls.

He should have been tracking every word.

Instead, he was tracking numbers of a different kind.

Three days if the weather held. Five if the border was tight. Seven if the mission went sideways.

It wasn’t unusual for Naruto to be gone this long. She’d taken missions twice as dangerous without him batting an eye. But now, every time someone said her name — even in passing — his focus snagged like a loose thread.

“Lord Hokage,” one of the advisors prompted, pulling him back. “Your opinion on the shipment schedule?”

Kakashi sat up, the mask curving faintly in a polite smile. “Send it by the fastest route,” he said smoothly.

But his mind had already gone back to the road. To the glint look in her eyes when she left. To how many days until he’d see it again.

—

Two weeks.

The stack of mission reports on Kakashi’s desk had shifted from a steady climb to a precarious tower. He’d worked through them all, one by one, without letting anyone see how often his eyes strayed to the corner — to the sealed scroll with Naruto’s assignment details. The one marked active. The one that hadn’t been updated in fourteen days.

A knock broke the steady scratch of his pen.

“Come in,” he called.

Shikamaru stepped inside, expression its usual blend of weary and sharp. He closed the door behind him. “Intel from the border team.”

Kakashi straightened almost imperceptibly. “Naruto?”

Shikamaru set the file down. “Still in play. They think she’s close to wrapping it, but… the area’s been heating up. Rogue movement’s heavier than predicted. She’s had to adjust her route twice.”

It wasn’t bad news, not exactly. But Kakashi could feel the tension coil tighter under his ribs. “And her last check-in?”

“Two nights ago. Solo transmission. Voice steady.” Shikamaru gave him a long look. “She’s fine.”

Kakashi nodded, glancing at the paperwork like he might actually get back to it. “Keep me posted on any change.”

Shikamaru lingered. “You know, if you keep looking like that every time her name comes up, you’re gonna blow the whole ‘professional Hokage’ thing.”

Kakashi arched an eyebrow over his mask. “Looking like what?”

“Like a guy counting the days until his fiancée comes home.”

The pause was just long enough for Kakashi to smooth it into something unreadable. “Must be imagining it.”

“Uh-huh.” Shikamaru smirked faintly and left him to his tower of reports.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair once the door shut, gaze drifting again to that one sealed scroll. Two weeks. And if his math was right, maybe — just maybe — tomorrow would make fourteen days exactly.

And she’d walk through the gates again.

—

The fire was small, low enough to keep her hidden from any curious eyes in the dark. Naruto sat cross-legged beside it, rolling her left shoulder until the ache eased. The joint popped once, and she hissed under her breath.

Her jacket had taken the worst of it — torn at one sleeve, mud ground into the seams — but the bruises along her ribs and the thin cut on her cheek were all hers. Nothing serious. Nothing she hadn’t pushed through before.

Still, she could feel the exhaustion humming under her skin, like she’d been running on a wire pulled too tight for too long.

She fed the last sliver of wood into the fire and leaned back against her pack. The stars were pale this far from the villages, shrouded by thin mist, but she found herself staring anyway. Counting.

Not minutes. Not hours.

Days.

Two weeks.

And for the first time since she’d started running missions, she was counting down to something that wasn’t Ichiraku’s broth or her own bed.

She sighed, dragging the blanket over her legs. It’s not like I’m racing back to see him, she told herself, eyes slipping shut. It’s just… easier to breathe there.

Kurama didn’t answer — either asleep, or letting her have this one.

Tomorrow, if her luck held, she’d cross Konoha’s gates before nightfall.

And see if the lie they’d built still fit as easily as it had when she left.

—

The mission room smelled faintly of ink and cold steel — scrolls stacked in neat columns, maps pinned under kunai on the side wall. Naruto stood in the center, posture straight despite the road dust still clinging to her boots.

Her report was crisp, voice steady as she walked through the route changes, the rogue movement, the final objective. She didn’t bother hiding the bruise shadowing her jaw; pretending it wasn’t there would’ve been pointless.

Kakashi listened from behind his desk, hands folded loosely, masked face unreadable to anyone who didn’t know him. But Naruto caught the fraction-of-a-second pause when she mentioned the ambush on the fourth day, the way his gaze dipped to her side like he could see through the jacket to check for worse damage.

The council members flanking the room didn’t seem to notice.

When she finished, Shikamaru collected the written report, scanning the first page. “Objective completed. Minimal collateral. No civilian casualties.” He slid the paper into the completed stack with a small nod. “Good work, Naruto.”

One of the elder advisers — a sharp-eyed woman who’d been on the council since Kakashi took the hat — glanced between them. “A clean success, despite the risk. Hokage-sama, I imagine it was difficult to send your fiancée on something this dangerous.”

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “It was,” he said easily, leaning back in his chair, “but there was never any doubt she’d handle it.”

Naruto fought the urge to fidget under the room’s collective gaze. She managed a grin, forcing some heat into her voice. “See? He believes in me.”

The adviser’s mouth twitched — approval, maybe. “A good foundation for a marriage.”

The meeting moved on, but the air between them hummed with the unspoken.

—--

They left the council room in measured steps, the polished floor catching faint echoes of their sandals. Naruto kept her eyes forward, mostly because she could feel Kakashi’s glance brushing her profile every few strides.

By the time they reached his office, he didn’t bother with pretense. “Sit,” he said, already crossing to the storage cabinet.

Naruto frowned. “I told you, it’s fine—”

“Sit,” he repeated, voice just sharp enough to cut her protest.

She dropped onto the couch with a huff, watching him pull down a small first-aid kit like it had been waiting there for her. He set it on the low table, the quiet click of the latch somehow louder than it should’ve been.

“I could go to the hospital,” she said.

“We both know you won’t,” Kakashi replied, kneeling in front of her. “That’s why you’re not walking out of here until I’ve checked everything myself.”

It wasn’t worth arguing. She let him peel off her flak vest, then the jacket beneath, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle as they pushed fabric from her shoulders. The air hit her skin, cool against the shallow cuts and blooming bruises that striped her ribs.

His touch was steady, methodical — cleaning, pressing, taping. Not a word about how close he was, though Naruto was hyperaware of it; of the weight of his gaze when he shifted her arm to get at a scrape, of how his knee brushed hers when he leaned closer.

Under his fingers, her pulse thudded — too fast, too obvious. She could tell he noticed; his eyes flicked up once, unreadable, before dropping back to his work.

Then, just for a moment, the mask of composure slipped. His hand stilled over the bruise darkening along her ribs, thumb brushing the edge of it like he could erase it. “You shouldn’t have had to take that hit,” he murmured, low, rougher than he meant to.

Naruto blinked, caught off guard by the crack in his voice. But before she could answer, his hand moved again, brisk, steady, as if nothing had escaped him at all.

It occurred to her that she was sitting here nearly bare from the waist up, scars and skin laid out under his careful hands, and Kakashi… didn’t flinch. Didn’t leer. Just worked in that calm, infuriating way, like he was the only one in control of the room.

Except she wasn’t entirely convinced he was unaffected. The set of his shoulders, the too-precise care in each wrap of the bandage, told her otherwise.

When he finally leaned back, the kit closed with a soft snap. “You’ll heal in a couple of days,” he said, like it was nothing.

Naruto pulled her jacket back on, not trusting herself to speak right away. She had just zipped it halfway when a sharp knock landed on the office door.

“Come in,” Kakashi called, voice even again.

The door swung open, and Tsunade stepped through with a small jar of salve in hand. “I heard you limped back in,” she said without preamble. “Figured you’d need this before you tried to brush it off and vanish for ramen.”

Tsunade stopped halfway to the couch, eyes sweeping the scene — the open first-aid kit on the table, the faint antiseptic smell in the air, Kakashi crouched in front of Naruto like he’d only just finished.

Tsunade brow arched. “Looks like I’m late.”

Naruto shifted, tugging the rest of her jacket into place. “Kakashi… got there first.”

“Of course he did,” Tsunade said dryly, gaze flicking between them with a mix of curiosity and something more assessing. “I suppose that’s part of the… fiancé package now?”

Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “Making sure she doesn’t walk around half-broken is part of the Hokage’s job, too. This just covers both.”

Naruto’s ears burned at the casual delivery, the way it rolled so naturally off his tongue.

Tsunade smirked. “Well. I can’t fault the thoroughness.” She set the salve on the table. “Still — use this on the deeper bruises. You’ll heal faster.”

Naruto mumbled a thanks, trying to ignore the weight of Tsunade’s lingering glance, like she could see straight through both of them.

When the door finally shut, Kakashi leaned back just enough to meet her eyes. “Maybe that’ll earn me some points,” he said lightly, closing the first-aid kit.

Naruto frowned. “Points?”

“For patching up her favorite brat,” Kakashi replied, voice dry but low. A pause, his gaze flicking toward the door. “Not that we’re fooling her. We’ll never sell this lie to Tsunade.”

Naruto huffed, lips twitching despite herself. “Yeah, that’s true.” She tipped her head, grin breaking through. “Guess you just gotta step up your acting next time, huh?”

Kakashi’s eye curved, faint and amused. “Funny. I thought I was already doing all the heavy lifting.”

Naruto snorted, shaking her head, but the warmth between them settled back into something familiar—easy, teasing, theirs.

–

Training Ground Three was quiet in the late afternoon, save for the rustle of leaves and the uneven sound of two people catching their breath.

Naruto flopped onto the grass, one arm thrown over her face to block the sun. Her hair stuck in damp strands to her temple, and her shirt clung where Kakashi’s last counter had sent her rolling through the dirt.

“You’re still telegraphing that left hook,” Kakashi said, settling onto the log beside her. His voice was steady, but his own breathing wasn’t perfect either.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, peeling her arm away to look at him. “Hey… I’m heading back to Amegakure for a while.”

Kakashi didn’t move. “For a while?”

“I’ll check in here when I need to, but…” She sat up, elbows braced on her knees. “They’re still not stable. Supplies, council fights, flood repairs — I can help keep it from falling apart.”

His visible eye narrowed slightly, reading more between her words than she’d said. “And you’re telling me this now because…?”

“Because it means less time we have to pretend,” Naruto said bluntly. “You know… the whole ‘engaged couple’ thing. Might help us find our footing. The more we are exposed to this scenario, the thinner the line could get.”

She wasn’t accusing him — just laying it out the way she always did, like truth was the only language she spoke.

Kakashi’s gaze drifted over her, unreadable for a long moment. “Thinner,” he repeated.

Naruto gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’m just saying… I know the difference between playing a part and living it. And we’re toeing it.”

The breeze stirred between them, carrying the smell of grass and sweat. Kakashi leaned back on his hands, looking up at the drifting clouds.

“You do what you need to in Amegakure,” Kakashi said finally. “But when I call you back, you come.”

Naruto’s mouth twitched. “Bossy.”

“Hokage,” Kakashi corrected smoothly. Then, after a pause, “Besides… I’d hate for people to think we’d broken up before the wedding.”

She groaned, dropping back onto the grass. “You’re impossible.”

“Just keeping the lie alive,” Kakashi replied lightly, but his eye stayed on her a beat longer than necessary.

–

The academy smelled the same as it always had — chalk dust, polished floors, the faint scent of wood warmed by the afternoon sun.

Kakashi stood at the back of the classroom beside Iruka, hands tucked in his pockets, letting the low hum of children’s voices fill the space. The day’s Hokage duty was a simple one: a formal visit to the Academy, a few words of encouragement, and a reminder that the village saw its youngest with pride.

But it wasn’t him the students were watching right now.

Naruto stood at the front of the room, half perched on the edge of the teacher’s desk, animated hands moving as she described some training exercise she swore they could try in pairs — “but only when you’ve mastered the basics, or you’ll fall on your faces.” Her grin was bright, the kind that made even the most fidgety students lean in.

“She’s good with them,” Iruka murmured quietly. “Always has been. Used to sneak in here just to mess with my lesson plans.”

Kakashi’s eye followed her as she crouched beside a boy who’d been shy about answering, coaxing him into speaking up without making him feel on display. She had the rare ability to fill a room without taking it over.

He thought about what she’d said at Training Ground Three — about the line between pretending and living it. About it getting thinner.

She didn’t know it, but she wasn’t the only one feeling that blur. He’d been Hokage long enough to keep his face neutral in council chambers, to keep professional distance where it mattered. But every so often, the mask slipped in ways he didn’t expect. Watching her here — sleeves rolled, hair catching the light, laughing with the kids — he had the unwelcome thought that they’d fit into each other’s lives a little too easily.

Naruto glanced back then, as if sensing the weight of his stare, and shot him a quick grin before returning to her audience.

Iruka elbowed him lightly. “Careful, Hokage-sama. You’re staring like a proud husband.”

Kakashi didn’t answer. He just shifted his gaze back to the chalkboard, ignoring the faint, telling warmth creeping up behind the mask.

–

She didn’t bother knocking twice. One rap against the frame and the door slid open, her voice carrying in before the chill from outside.

“The village is gonna talk if they don’t see me staying at my fiancé’s place the night before I leave for Ame,” she announced, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “A lie, or not, but who can tell nowadays anyway?”

Kakashi only lifted a brow. It wasn’t like she needed his permission—she’d already stepped out of her boots and started down the hall. As if he could turn her away. As if he’d ever been able to.

He tipped his head toward the spare room. “It’s open.”

She was halfway there before she slowed, dropping her pack with a familiar thud… on top of the other pack she’d already left behind last time. A few odds and ends spilled out, the beginnings of a small nest she hadn’t bothered to hide.

Kakashi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and let the silence stretch until she noticed his stare.

“What?” she said with a shrug, like it was nothing. “You can’t be the only one thorough.”

A scoff slipped out before he could stop it. “Might as well move in, huh?”

That earned him a grin over her shoulder—bright, unguarded, and impossible not to answer with the faintest curve of his own. “Yeah. Your place has better heating.”

He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Good night, Naruto.”

She was already tugging her door closed, voice muffled but easy. “Hn. I’ll try not to wake you before I leave.”

Kakashi hummed his acknowledgment, though he didn’t believe it for a second. She’d never been quiet, never careful in the mornings. And if he was honest with himself… he didn’t mind.

Sure enough, before the first light had even reached the rooftops, the house was alive with her. The soft thump of drawers opening, the splash of water in the basin, the muffled curse when she tripped over her own pack—each sound carried clear through the thin walls.

Kakashi rolled onto his back, one arm draped over his eyes, listening with the kind of attention he only ever gave her. He could picture it without looking: the way she scrubbed her face like she was going to war with sleep itself, the haphazard tug of her hair, the way she filled every corner of his house as though it had always been hers.

By the time he stepped out of his room, she’d migrated to the kitchen like she owned it, rummaging through cupboards for tea.

“You’re early,” he said, voice still rough with sleep.

“You’re slow,” she shot back, yanking the kettle onto the stove. “And I’m not leaving without breakfast.”

Of course she wasn’t.

Somehow, between her clattering around and his quiet steadiness, the meal came together—rice, grilled fish, and miso that she insisted tasted “almost as good” as Ichiraku’s broth. She sat cross-legged at his table, hair still damp from her quick wash, eyes bright despite the mission ahead.

It would have been easy to forget she was leaving at all.

They left together, the front door swinging shut behind them into the crisp morning air. The streets were already stirring—shopkeepers sweeping their storefronts, shinobi heading for assignments. It didn’t take long for eyes to follow them: the Hokage and his fiancée, side by side, perfectly at ease, trading quiet comments that carried just far enough to seem intimate.

At the main gate, a small group of chūnin guards straightened as they approached. One of them grinned. “We’ll make sure she gets back to you in one piece, Lord Sixth.”

Kakashi’s visible eye curved faintly. “I’d appreciate that.”

Naruto gave an exaggerated wave, shouldering her pack. “Don’t let him mope too much while I’m gone.”

Laughter rippled from the gatehouse, and just like that, the show was set. She turned away before the grin on her face could tighten into something else, before she could think too hard about why leaving felt heavier this time.

Kakashi stayed there until she disappeared down the road, the faint clink of her gear fading with distance.

He stood a long while after, scarf tugged higher against the chill, wondering when exactly her presence had started to feel like the default—and why her absence always seemed louder than the silence she left behind.

—

By midday, Kakashi was back behind his desk, a half-finished briefing scroll in front of him and the council’s words still echoing in his ears.

Recognized bond. That’s what they’d called it.

It meant that any supplies, manpower, or diplomatic effort sent to Amegakure could now be justified as “support for the Hokage’s fiancée’s home.” A convenient loophole.

He wasn’t going to waste it.

“Send word to the Logistics Division,” he told the aide at his elbow. “I want a full inventory of what we can move to Amegakure without cutting into our standing reserves. Food staples first. Medical supplies second. Include repair tools, roofing materials, anything that can be carried by relay teams.”

The aide hesitated. “Sir, that’s… considerably more than the standing allotment.”

Kakashi looked up from his notes, the lazy half-smile not quite reaching his eye. “It’s for Amegakure.”

The hesitation vanished. Orders were taken down and messengers dispatched before the ink on the Hokage’s seal had dried.

By the time the afternoon shadows stretched across the office, two full convoys were already slated for departure — far more than the council would have approved under normal circumstances.

He told himself it was strategy. That every crate sent ahead of Naruto was one less thing she’d have to chase down herself. That it was efficient. Practical.

But when he caught himself wondering whether she’d notice the brand-new canvas tarps he’d added to the shipment — the kind that could keep a market stall dry even in the worst downpour — he had to admit it.

Maybe efficiency had very little to do with it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Beacon in the Storm

The Rain was heavier here, thicker somehow, as if the clouds had been holding it for days just to drop it all at once. Naruto tugged her hood tighter and cut through the narrow backstreets, boots splashing through puddles she didn’t bother avoiding.

Her place sat on the edge of the market district — close enough for easy access, far enough that the noise faded to a dull hum by nightfall. Bigger than her apartment in Konoha, though you wouldn’t guess it by the way she used it.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of medicinal herbs and old paper. Scrolls were stacked along one wall, jars of dried leaves and powders lining the shelves above them. Canned goods and sealed ration packs filled the rest of the storage space, each labeled in her quick scrawl.

A cot sat pushed against the far wall, neatly made but barely touched. This wasn’t a home. It was a staging ground — a place to sleep only when she couldn’t make it back to the village’s communal quarters.

She shrugged out of her damp coat and hung it on the peg by the door, shaking the rain from her hair. The room was quiet but for the steady patter outside. She crossed to the low table, unrolling a fresh sheet of parchment and jotting down the market’s needs she’d seen that morning: waterproof fabric for stall covers, antiseptic for the clinic, more rice than the last shipment.

There was work to be done before the next supply run — whoever sent it, from Konoha or otherwise.

Still, as she set a kettle on the small stove, she found herself glancing at the door. Half expecting, half hoping.

Not for company. Not really.

Just for a knock she knew wouldn’t come for days.

____

By the second day back, Naruto had already fallen into the rhythm of Amegakure like she’d never left.

People here didn’t just know her face — they tracked her by the flash of orange weaving through the market, by the sound of her laugh carrying over the rain. Vendors called her name without hesitation, waving her over not to sell her anything, but to press still-warm buns into her hands or slip a few coins toward her supply fund.

She made her rounds without fuss. Checked the clinic’s dwindling stores. Helped patch a hole in a roof where the rain had been finding its way in. Hauled a cart of vegetables across town for a grocer whose leg still hadn’t healed right from the war.

The children were the loudest about it, chasing her down with wooden kunai and daring her into mock battles under the covered walkways. She let them “win” half the time, sprawling dramatically in the puddles while they crowed over her defeat.

Somewhere along the way, “Uzumaki-san” had become “our Naruto” — not in the way Konoha claimed her as its hero, but as if she belonged here in the rain as much as the misted skyline.

And maybe she did.

When the work slowed and the clouds thinned enough for pale daylight to filter through, she found herself leaning on a railing above the flooded canals, watching the ripples shiver over the water. A few shopkeepers passed behind her, voices low and fond.

“A ray of sunshine,” one murmured, as if the words might scare her away if spoken too loud.

She didn’t turn to acknowledge it — just smiled faintly, letting the rain hide it.

– 

Rain tapped a steady rhythm against the tall windows, soft but insistent, as the Amegakure councillors worked through the week’s reports. Ledger pages lay open, weighted at the corners to keep from curling in the damp.

“The latest shipment from the Land of Rivers docked on schedule,” one councillor reported. “Grain supplies are stable for now, and steel imports have doubled since the announcement of your engagement to the Hokage.”

Another nodded. “The change in tone from our trading partners is undeniable. They’re quicker to sign, quicker to ship — but it’s still a patch, not a repair. Our reserves will hold through the next two months, maybe three, before we’re back to stretching rations.”

Naruto listened, chin resting on her hand. The words “stable for now” felt like a stone in her stomach. The news of her engagement to Kakashi had cracked open doors she’d never been able to push before — but it wasn’t enough.

By the time the meeting ended and she stepped out into the misted courtyard, her mind was already elsewhere. The Kage Summit was on the horizon. She hated those things — the formal greetings, the posturing — but if showing up on Kakashi’s arm could mean more grain in Ame’s stores, more medicine in their clinics…

She tilted her face to the rain and exhaled. Maybe it was worth it.

------

Two weeks of rain had blurred into one another — patrols, negotiations, the quiet hours spent at her desk scratching out letters to people she’d never meet. Naruto had barely slept, catching short naps at her desk or on the narrow cot in her Ame house.

Now she stood in a dimly lit warehouse at the city’s edge, the air thick with the scent of oiled wood and damp burlap. Across from her, a merchant from the Land of Tea — one of the wealthiest in the shipping lanes — was stamping the final seal on their agreement.

“Protection guaranteed for my fleet,” he said, rolling the scroll shut. “In return, you get two shipments of high-grade grain and dried fish every month for the next half-year. No interruptions.”

Naruto clasped his forearm in the formal Rain handshake, a tired but satisfied grin tugging at her lips. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Her gaze drifted to the crates behind him — dozens stacked high, each marked with the seal of their agreement. It wasn’t enough to change Ame’s fate overnight, but it would ease the tightness in every mother’s voice at the market, put a little more on each child’s plate.

By the time she left the warehouse, the rain had picked up to a steady downpour, plastering her hair to her face. She didn’t mind. She’d earned this.

She didn’t know that by tomorrow, half of what she’d just secured wouldn’t survive the journey.

---

It was the sound that woke her first — not the rain (that was constant), but a deeper, heavier rhythm. She pushed up from the cot, blinking at the grey morning light seeping through the warped shutters.

By the time she stepped outside, half the village was already moving. The river that cut through Amegakure’s east side had swollen overnight, the steady rain joined by a sudden, punishing downpour upriver. The floodgates had held for years… but not this morning.

Water surged through the streets, dragging debris in its current. And in the middle of the chaos, on the embankment near the warehouse district, she saw them — crates with the merchant’s seal, her crates — tumbling into the torrent one after another.

“Shit—!” Naruto was moving before she’d finished the thought, boots splashing through ankle-deep water as she vaulted a broken railing. A few villagers joined her, trying to haul what they could onto higher ground. They managed to save some — a fraction. The rest vanished into the churning water, carried toward the flooded docks.

By the time the rain eased, she was soaked through, hair matted to her cheeks, mud streaked up her arms. Behind her, the salvage team stacked the rescued crates in a miserable little pile. She counted them twice.

Half. Half of what she’d worked two sleepless weeks to get.

Naruto stood there for a long time, rain dripping from her chin, until one of the council aides murmured, “We’ll make it stretch.”

She nodded once, but inside she felt the truth like a weight in her gut — the village was still holding together, but it was fraying. And every time she stitched one seam shut, another threatened to tear.

—-

The smell of damp wood and wet stone clung to everything. It had been two days since the flood, and Amegakure still felt… quieter. The markets were thinner, the voices lower.

Naruto moved through the main street with her hood back, letting the rain hit her hair. Some villagers greeted her, others just watched — tired eyes following the only person who still moved like the storm hadn’t reached her bones.

She forced her mouth into a smile for every child she passed. Checked the beams in the temporary shelter by the square. Helped an old woman shift her goods from the lowest stall to the safety of the overhangs.

It wasn’t much. It never felt like much. But every small thing kept the village breathing. And that was the point.

When she reached the east dock, she stopped beside the signal post. The beacon flame had been sputtering for days, soaked from the storm. Naruto knelt, coaxing it back to life with a few stubborn sparks, shielding it with her own body until the flame steadied and rose.

The light cut through the drizzle, reflecting in the slick cobblestones. It was just a beacon for the river traders, but to Amegakure it was more than that. It meant someone was still watching, still waiting, still here.

Naruto straightened, shoulders sore, hair plastered to her neck, and glanced up at the rooftops. From here, she could see a few faces in the windows. Watching her. Maybe believing, for a moment, that things could still turn.

She’d keep the fire going as long as she had to. Even if the rain never stopped.

–---

The beacon’s flame was still steady when the first shouts rose from the western road.

Not alarm — excitement.

Naruto turned in time to see children break into a run, splashing through puddles toward the gates. Shopkeepers abandoned their counters. The murmurs spread fast: Konoha… from Konoha…!

Her brow furrowed. There weren’t any scheduled caravans. Not with the flood damage choking half the roads. She followed the flow of people, boots splashing, until the creak of heavy wheels reached her ears.

Through the mist came a line of covered wagons, flanked by shinobi in leaf-green flak vests. Every one of them wore the same purposeful expression — but there was no mistaking the bright red-and-white fan seals pressed into the wax on each tarpaulin. Hokage’s order.

Naruto slowed to a stop. The lead envoy dismounted, spotted her instantly, and dipped his head with a grin.

“Special delivery,” he said. “Straight from Konoha. We waited out the storms like the Hokage instructed — didn’t want a single sack ruined.”

She blinked. “You—” Her voice caught before she could finish.

The wagons rolled past, canvas flaps lifting in the wind just enough to show the bounty inside: grain, dried vegetables, bundles of medicinals, rolls of clean cloth. Everything they’d been short on since before the flood. Everything she’d been breaking herself to find.

The crowd’s cheer was deafening. Old men clapped each other’s backs. Mothers pulled their children close and pointed to the crest on the side of each wagon, murmuring about the bond between the Leaf and the Rain.

Naruto stood there, rain sliding down her cheeks, and for once she didn’t bother to hide the way her chest ached.

Damn you, Kakashi.

Always knowing exactly when to show up — even without being here.

She followed the wagons in, villagers pressing in around her, the sound of their joy louder than the rain. For the first time since the flood, Amegakure felt alive again.

The council chamber had been turned into a makeshift storeroom.

Crates lined the walls, burlap sacks piled high enough to hide the lower half of the rain-streaked windows. Naruto moved between them with a ledger in hand, sleeves rolled to her elbows, ticking off each item as it was confirmed by the Ame quartermasters.

“Fifty sacks of grain… thirty rolls of cloth… twenty crates of preserved root vegetables…” She stopped to glance over the pile of medicinals, the faint smell of dried herbs already thick in the air. “Tell the clinic to store these somewhere dry. The rest gets distributed to the shelters first.”

One of Kakashi’s aides nodded, jotting notes with brisk precision. The other stood at the open door, directing shinobi as they unloaded the last wagon.

The hum of voices was warm for once — not edged with worry or strain. Villagers slipped in with trays of tea for the workers, offering quiet thanks that seemed to make the aides stand taller. Naruto caught more than one set of eyes softening when they looked her way.

It wasn’t until she ducked behind a stack of crates to check the last page of the ledger that she caught the murmur from just beyond the doorway. Two villagers, passing by.

“…we’re lucky the Hokage’s fiancée made her home here.”

“Mm. You can tell we’re getting a fair share of his affection now.”

The words hit her in that strange place between her chest and her throat. She kept her head down, pretending to study the ledger as the voices faded into the rain outside.

Kakashi hadn’t asked for this kind of attention. Neither had she. And yet… the warmth in the room, the full shelves, the way Ame’s people smiled like they could breathe easier — all of it was real.

She closed the ledger and handed it to the nearest aide.  “Let’s make sure nothing spoils,” she said, voice steady.

But inside, she couldn’t shake the thought,  If this is what a lie can do for them… what happens if we keep it up?

—

By the time Naruto closed her door, her shoulders felt like stone.

The sound of the rain had been a constant all day — on the rooftops, against the wagons, in the faces of the people she’d walked beside — but now it was just her and the steady patter against the shutters.

She peeled off her damp cloak, hung it by the door, and dropped into the single chair by her desk. Her boots stayed on. She didn’t have the energy to untie them just yet.

The deliveries had gone smoother than she’d dared to hope. Every storehouse was stocked, every shelter accounted for. She could still see the grins of the kids peeking into the council chamber earlier, whispering about the “big crates from Konoha.”

On a scrap of parchment, she dipped her brush and let the ink flow without thinking too hard:

Your timing is impeccable as always, Hatake.
Thanks. I owe you one.

P.S. I miss you — and yes, you can blame the rain for the mood.

She blew gently to dry the ink, folded the letter, and set it aside for the next courier leaving for Fire Country.

By the time she finally tugged her boots off and crawled into bed, the letter was already gone in her mind — carried somewhere between here and Konoha, along with the tiniest part of her exhaustion.

Somewhere in the village, the beacon still burned against the night.

—

Konoha.

The letter was waiting on his desk when he returned from yet another council session that had gone in unproductive circles.

No official seal, no formality — just his name in a familiar, slightly crooked scrawl.

He broke the wax with his thumb, the paper unfolding with the faint rasp of fibers worn soft from travel.

Your timing is impeccable as always, Hatake.
Thanks. I owe you one.
P.S. I miss you — and yes, you can blame the rain for the mood.

His mouth curved before he even realized it. Not the practiced half-smile he used for politics, but something smaller, quieter. Real.

He read it again.

And again.

It was a simple note — exactly the kind she’d write when she meant it. No diplomacy, no posturing for Amegakure’s council, no careful phrasing for his aides. Just Naruto being… Naruto.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking, and let the sunlight slanting through the blinds stripe the desk in gold. His eyes traced the uneven loops of her handwriting while his mind wandered.

When had she slipped into his days like this?

Once, she’d been the loud genin who never stopped rushing headfirst into trouble, the one he was supposed to keep alive long enough to learn subtlety. Later, the comrade who could be counted on to take the hits and still get up swinging.

Now…

Now she was the woman the village called his fiancée.

The one who stood beside him in public with her chin tilted up like she belonged there. The one who made their pretense look so effortless that, some days, he almost forgot it was a pretense at all.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because somewhere between all the staged glances, the too-casual touches, and the unspoken trust that had always been there, the edges had started to blur.

It wasn’t only the Hokage protecting a valuable ally anymore.

It wasn’t only the former sensei keeping an old student from overextending herself. It wasn’t just his sensei's orphan he must keep safe.

Naruto had become a constant in his life — the kind of constant he measured his days against without realizing it. She was a point he navigated by. Someone whose absence left the air a little too still, whose voice could cut through the noise in his head faster than any order.

A presence he wanted to protect, yes… but more and more, it felt like he was protecting his own.

He folded the letter carefully, tucking it into the top drawer of his desk instead of the burn box, where it would have gone if it were truly just correspondence. His fingers lingered on the edge of the wood before pulling away.

The line between Hokage and subordinate, between former sensei and the woman who now shared his public life, was thinning.

And if he was honest — truly honest — he wasn’t sure he wanted it thickened again.

------

The rain had thinned to a steady drizzle, leaving the streets slick and glistening in the lantern light. Naruto moved through them with her hood down, greeting shopkeepers by name, checking on the repairs to the south pier.

It had become habit now — this loop through Ame’s narrow veins, making sure the heart kept beating.

Somewhere between the fishmonger’s stall and the herbalist’s doorway, a merchant passing by muttered to his companion, “…Hokage’s woman, you know. No wonder the caravans started coming.”

Naruto didn’t stop, didn’t turn — but her head tilted ever so slightly toward the east. Toward Konoha.

It was the same every time.

A villager mentioning his name in thanks.

A letter arriving with his seal.

Even the faintest echo of “Hokage” in passing, and her thoughts angled instantly toward home — not just the village, but to him.

She shook it off, tucking her hands into her pockets, but the reflex had sunk too deep to deny.

---

In Konoha, the air was sharp with the edge of early autumn, leaves starting to turn along the path behind the Hokage Tower.

Kakashi was heading back from an academy meeting when two chunin passed him at the base of the stairs.

“…Naruto-san’s making rounds in Ame again, I heard. Third week straight.”

“No surprise. The place lights up when she’s there—”

His steps didn’t falter, but the rest of their conversation blurred.

He could see it clearly: her hood thrown back despite the rain, her laugh sparking through Ame’s gray, that impossible brightness that didn’t fade no matter where she was.

It was happening more often now.

An aide mentioning she’d sent word. A trader returning with stories of her bargaining down entire shipments. Even the faintest report with her name on it — and his mind snapped toward her before he could think.

It wasn’t distraction. It was awareness — the kind honed from years of keeping his people alive, knowing where they were without having to check.

And yet… whenever her name surfaced, his mind drew that same invisible line across the map, cutting through forests and rivers, straight to her.

He realized he was smiling only when one of the academy students waved up at him, grinning in return as if they shared some secret. Kakashi adjusted his hitai-ate and kept walking, the small curve still tugging at his mouth.

Some habits, apparently, didn’t care how far the distance was.

------

Kakashi’s pen hovered for a moment over the margin, the half-finished order already more generous than protocol required. He adjusted the numbers again, adding another cartload of dried goods, a surplus of medical supplies, and—almost as an afterthought—a fresh shipment of paper stock.

On paper, it was a clean directive. The Hokage, ensuring stability in an allied territory during the lean season. Nothing to question. Nothing anyone could call favoritism.

But in the quiet space between the words, Kakashi knew better. He could see her in his mind—shoulders squared against the rain, hair plastered to her cheeks, scolding some poor merchant into lowering his prices. She’d say she didn’t need him to step in. She’d say she had it handled. And she did.

But knowing she wouldn’t ask made him want to send more.

A knock at the door drew him back. An aide stepped in, waiting for the seal that would send the convoy on its way. Kakashi signed with an unhurried hand, the Hokage’s mark pressed clean into the paper.

“Make sure it’s delivered to her directly,” he said, voice even. “Tell her it’s from Konoha.”

Not from me.

Not aloud.

The aide bowed and left. Kakashi leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting out to the grey horizon beyond the Hokage Monument. Amegakure was somewhere past that, hidden under a curtain of rain.

If anyone asked, it was just logistics.

If anyone looked closer, they might see the truth—that he was starting to measure the weeks not in mission cycles or council meetings, but in how long it had been since he’d last heard her laugh.

------

Amegakure 

The rain had been steady since dawn, thin curtains that blurred the streets and turned every sound soft. Naruto was elbow-deep in sorting bundles of dried herbs in the marketplace when a shout rose from the far end of the square.

She glanced up, expecting trouble, but what came around the corner was… impossible to miss.

A caravan, seven wagons long, creaked its way through the rain. Fresh canvas tarps gleamed pale against the grey, each one stamped clean with the spiral-and-fan crest of Konoha. Flanking it, shinobi in dark cloaks kept the pace slow for the cobblestone roads.

The villagers saw it before she could move. Murmurs turned to cheers, hands waved from windows and doorways. “From Konoha!” someone called. “The Hokage’s convoy!”

Another voice, closer, laughed. “Our Naruto’s the sweetest. The Hokage must missed her a lot— no wonder he’s sending half the village’s pantry.”

Naruto’s hands stilled over the herbs.

For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood there as the caravan rolled past. She caught sight of the crates under the tarps — dried goods, medical kits, even a familiar paper stock she used for supply lists. Everything she’d been short on for weeks.

Her chest tightened, though she couldn’t have said why.

A merchant beside her grinned, nudging her with his elbow. “Guess it’s good to have the Hokage’s heart, eh?”

Naruto forced a small smile, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t correct him.

She’d thank him later. Somehow.

For now, she just stood in the rain, watching the crest disappear down the street, feeling the weight of Konoha’s presence in a place that had almost forgotten what help looked like.

—

Hokage’s Office 

The day’s paperwork sat in two neat stacks on Kakashi’s desk — completed missions on the left, pending on the right. He’d been staring at the pending side for the better part of ten minutes without turning a page.

Shikamaru’s voice from the morning still lingered in his head, “She’s doing more than half their council combined.”

Kakashi leaned back, the chair creaking under him, and let his gaze slide toward the small window behind the desk. Even here, in Konoha, the late-autumn sky was heavy and damp. Somewhere beyond that horizon, she was wading through rain and red tape and whatever new disaster had landed in her lap that week.

The convoy had arrived by now. He could picture her — pretending she wasn’t relieved, busying herself with tally sheets and distribution schedules to hide it.

He should leave it at that. Supplies delivered, duties fulfilled.

Instead, he reached for the mission ledger and began flipping pages until he found a gap wide enough to wedge himself into the schedule without raising suspicion. Officially, it could be classified as a goodwill inspection. Unofficially…

Well.

The thought of seeing her in that raincoat again — the way her hair stuck to her cheeks, the way she smiled like she’d fought the sky itself and won — was reason enough.

He closed the ledger and set it aside, decision made.

Tomorrow, he’d start arranging it. Quietly.

--

He’d expected to find her in the middle of work — hunched over a desk, hair a mess, sleeves rolled to her elbows while she barked orders at someone twice her size.
Instead, she stepped out of the bathroom barefoot, steam following her like a shadow. Damp hair clung in uneven strands to her cheeks and neck, leaving dark patches on the collar of her shirt. She was running a comb through it without looking, the other hand flipping a ledger closed like she’d finally surrendered the day.

The apartment was worse than he’d imagined from her letters — crates stacked against one wall, open scrolls on every flat surface, a pile of coats on the bed that suggested it hadn’t been used for sleeping in weeks. He wondered if she’d even noticed how much of her life here was built for everyone else.

“Where do you even sleep in this mess?” The words came out lighter than the thought behind them. “Do you even sleep?”

She froze mid-step. Droplets slid from her hair to the floor, the sound oddly loud in the cramped space. Then she looked up at him — and for a moment, her face was open in a way he didn’t see often anymore.

She didn’t rush to answer. Just watched him, like she was trying to decide if he was real.

Kakashi stayed where he was, leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. He’d made the trip without announcing himself, partly because he didn’t want to give her time to talk him out of it… and partly because he’d wanted to see the unguarded version of her. The one that wasn’t performing for Amegakure’s council or Konoha’s.

“You’re… actually here,” she said finally, her voice softer than usual.

“Seems that way.”

He let the reply hang between them, studying the shift in her expression — the flicker of relief, the pinch of something like uncertainty. She didn’t ask why he’d come, and he didn’t offer it.

It was enough, for now, just to stand in the same space.

She moved past him toward the desk, muttering something about the floor still being wet. He caught the faint scent of her soap — nothing fancy, just clean and warm, cutting through the stale tang of rain that clung to the room.

His gaze followed her without meaning to. The way her hair stuck to the curve of her neck, the faint red marks from where the comb had tugged too hard, the new scrape along her forearm she clearly hadn’t bothered to treat yet.

Kakashi stepped further inside, letting the door click shut behind him. His eyes swept the apartment again — no personal touches beyond what was necessary to keep someone alive and working. Not a single thing that said this was hers.

“You weren’t joking about it being just a storage space,” he said.

She shot him a dry look over her shoulder. “I told you.”

He crouched near one of the unopened crates, brushing dust from its lid with his thumb. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding sleep entirely.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just leaned against the desk and crossed her arms, watching him the same way she had when she first saw him — as if the longer she looked, the more she expected him to fade.

He could guess what she was thinking. That he belonged somewhere else right now. That this visit would cost him a dozen signatures and half a council meeting. And maybe it would. But he’d still come.

Because the truth was, he’d missed this — the quiet space where she didn’t have to fill every second with words, where her guard slipped without her noticing. The part of her that felt… his to look after.

“Come on,” he said finally, straightening. “I’ll help you make some room to sleep.”

Her brows pulled together. “You came all this way to clean my apartment?”

Kakashi let his eyes curve in the faintest smile. “No. I came to see you. The rest is just… necessary damage control.”

She huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. And for a moment, with the rain pattering against the windows and her standing there barefoot, he thought maybe the trip had been worth every mile.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Where the Rain Slows

The rain outside was steady, a low hum against the windows, the kind that softened the edges of everything. She was barefoot, hair still damp from her shower, the faint scent of soap and rain mixing in the air. And there he was—Kakashi—standing in the middle of her Ame apartment, as solid and calm as if he belonged there.

And for a moment, she couldn’t decide which unsettled her more: the fact that he’d crossed miles to get here without warning, or the quiet, treacherous thought that she didn’t actually want him to leave.

Kurama’s voice slid in, lazy and pointed. So, kit… when exactly were you going to admit you missed him?

She ignored him, crossing her arms to disguise the twist in her chest, and glanced toward the clutter Kakashi had already started moving without asking. Scrolls restacked, supplies sorted, an empty corner cleared as if he’d walked in with a mental blueprint of the place.

Maybe he was right—maybe this was damage control. But there was no denying the subtle shift in the air, the way the room already felt different with him in it. Safer. Warmer. Like the walls had remembered what it meant to be lived in.

It hit her then, the strange ease of it—how natural it felt for him to be here, moving through her space without asking permission, like this was theirs. And maybe it wasn’t about fixing the mess. Maybe it was about him making sure she wasn’t drowning in it.

------

He didn’t ask where to start, didn’t tell her to sit down. He just moved, efficient in that Hokage way that made everything look effortless. A stack of unopened ration tins shifted to the far wall. A pile of rain-ruined maps disappeared into the bin. She found herself watching the long lines of his shoulders more than the progress he was making.

“You don’t have to—” she started.

“I know,” he said without looking up, brushing dust off a cleared tabletop. “But you’ll let me.”

It wasn’t a question.

She huffed through her nose, stepping in to gather an armful of supplies he’d nudged toward her. The room filled with the sound of small things—paper sliding into neat piles, the dull clink of glass jars, the rain outside tapping against the window like it wanted in.

It was easy, too easy, to fall into that rhythm with him. The same way they used to work on the field—reading each other’s movements without thinking, handing off tasks without needing to speak. Only now, it wasn’t kunai or jutsu. It was making space on a shelf, unrolling a mat, pushing a crate of medical herbs into the corner.

When they were finally done, the narrow stretch of floor beside the window was clear. A folded futon waited there like it had been hiding all along.

“There,” he said, straightening up.

Naruto looked at it, then at him. “…Feels weird.”

“What does?”

“This place. With you in it. Feels like it’s breathing different.”

His eye softened, the faintest curve at the corner. “That’s the idea.”

She didn’t answer. Just sat down on the futon, letting the quiet settle. The rain still fell, steady and unbothered, but the room felt warmer than it had in weeks.

---

“Have you had dinner yet?” Naruto asked, pushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “I can… offer tea. Or cup ramen. Y’know, as thanks for cleaning up my room.”

Kakashi glanced at her, one brow lifting. “With all the convoys I’ve sent, my fiancée can only offer me cup noodles?”

She straightened, eyes going scandal-wide. “…Really? You gotta play this game?”

“Yes, Naruto,” he replied, voice smooth as ever, the faintest curve at the corner of his masked mouth. “Cup noodles will be plenty.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, muttering something about “insufferable Hokages” under her breath, but the warmth curling in her chest gave her away.

The rain outside kept falling.

And for reasons she didn’t want to name, she suddenly didn’t mind that he was still here.

—--

They ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor, the low table between them, two steaming cups of ramen set out with tea poured alongside. It wasn’t much, but it smelled good, and the familiarity of it made something in Naruto’s shoulders unclench.

Kakashi had already rolled his sleeves, chopsticks held with that easy precision she’d seen a hundred times before. “So,” he started, “Konoha’s council finally signed off on the Academy expansion. Iruka’s over the moon. He’s already assigning classrooms in his head.”

Naruto slurped a mouthful, grinning. “Bet he’s already picked out which one’s closest to the teachers’ lounge so he can steal the first cup of coffee.”

Kakashi’s eye curved in amusement. “Probably.”

They slipped into their old rhythm without thinking—updates from him about Konoha’s markets, a new genin team that had everyone talking, the weather finally breaking long enough for repairs in the west quarter. From her side, stories about Ame’s stubborn merchants, the council’s latest compromise on food distribution, and the old man who’d climbed onto his roof mid-storm because “rain’s just a challenge.”

It was easy. Too easy. No awkward pauses, no deliberate steering of the conversation back to the engagement. Just him and her, trading pieces of two different worlds across the table, steam rising from the ramen bowls between them. Somewhere between her third sip of broth and his last mouthful of noodles, Naruto realized she was stalling. Drawing out the silences, letting them stretch just enough that he wouldn’t take them as cues to leave.

When she set her chopsticks down, she still hadn’t worked out how to ask the question without sounding… weird. So she didn’t. She just reached for the kettle, topping off his tea like it was the most natural thing in the world, hoping he’d take the hint.

If he noticed, he didn’t say a word.

—

Naruto fussed with the kettle like she could drown out the rain with steam. The tea between them was long gone lukewarm, but her eyes kept darting anywhere but at him—or more precisely, avoiding the clock behind his shoulder.

“You’ve been avoiding the time for the last ten minutes,” he said, tone deliberately mild.

Her gaze snapped to his, narrowing just a fraction. “No, I haven’t.”

“You have.” He leaned back in the chair, letting it creak under his weight, studying the way she gripped her chopsticks like a kunai. “Which means you either don’t want me to leave, or you’re planning something.”

She went still, then turned her focus back to the kettle with deliberate slowness. “…You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” His visible eye curved, half-hidden by the mask but not enough to miss the twitch at her mouth.

She exhaled, long and slow, conceding some silent battle. “If you head out now, you’ll be drenched before you even make it to the inn.” Her head jerked toward the cleared patch of floor. “…Stay.”

Kakashi arched a brow. “On what?”

She tilted her chin toward the futon, now neatly laid out after their earlier cleaning. “That.”

He studied it for a beat, then let his gaze drift over the cramped space — storage crates stacked against the wall, scrolls spilling in loose piles, barely enough clear floor for the one futon she actually used. “…Guess the floor and I will get acquainted.”

Naruto huffed a laugh, cheeks warming. “Just like that? No ‘I don’t want to intrude,’ no ‘I’ve got work in the morning’?”

“You think I came all this way to eat cup ramen and leave?” He reached for his tea, enjoying the small flicker of disbelief on her face. “I’ll take the futon.”

She hesitated, then muttered, “…Fine. But you’re making breakfast.”

“Deal,” he said easily, even as he pictured the likely state of her pantry—instant rice, canned fish, maybe some miso if he was lucky.

Still, the thought of waking up here, with the rain against her windows instead of his own, made the trip worth every mile.

----

Naruto’s voice had slowed, her words stretching out between breaths as they lay side by side, the rain drumming steady on the roof. She’d been telling him something about the market routes in Ame, about how the floodwaters had finally receded enough for merchant boats to move again, and then—mid-sentence—her voice simply… trailed off.

Kakashi waited a moment, thinking she was searching for the right word, but the silence filled instead with the soft, even cadence of her breathing.

His gaze shifted toward her silhouette in the dim lamplight — one arm thrown over the blanket, hair spilling loose over her pillow. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her asleep after running herself ragged, but it felt different here, in this cramped little room where nothing about his presence was required… and yet he’d stayed anyway.

He thought back to the moment he’d stepped through her door, telling himself it was just to check in. Then somehow, he’d ended up clearing a path to her bed, accepting cup ramen like it was fine dining, and unrolling his bedroll close beside hers. Close enough that if either of them reached out in the dark, they wouldn’t miss.

A Hokage shouldn’t be this easily convinced.
A former sensei shouldn’t be this comfortable here.

But the truth was harder to ignore with each mile he’d traveled to get here, and each hour he’d been under the same roof again. The line they’d drawn for this pretense — neat, professional, believable — was already smudged.

He let out a quiet breath, turning onto his side so his back faced her, though his ears stayed tuned to every shift of her breathing. Just until she woke. Then the act would slide back into place, clean as ever.

For now, he allowed himself to simply listen.

Kakashi woke to the muted patter of rain and the faint scent of soap still clinging to the futon beside him.

Or rather — not beside him. On him.

Sometime in the night, Naruto had drifted across the narrow space and was now half-sprawled against his side, dead asleep. One arm slung over his waist, the other tossed up somewhere near his shoulder in a lazy tangle. Her face had ended up against his back, warm breath ghosting through the thin fabric of his shirt.

He froze. Not because he didn’t know what to do — he’d handled sleeping teammates in stranger situations — but because the moment he shifted even slightly, she sighed. Not the irritated, about-to-wake kind of sigh. The content kind. The kind that settled deeper against him, her forehead pressing into his shoulder blade like it was the most natural pillow in the world.

Right. Just like their old missions, he thought drily. Only now, she was twenty-something, this was her apartment, and he had no reasonable excuse for why he hadn’t moved her already.

Except he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The part of him that knew better muttered that he should gently peel her off, roll her back to her futon, and restore a respectable amount of space.

The part of him currently pinned under her warmth, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, tightened his grip on restraint and told himself he could allow just a little longer.

______

Kakashi was still weighing the merits of moving versus staying still when she stirred.

Her arm tightened briefly around his waist, and for one traitorous second, he thought maybe she was waking up slowly — that she might realize where she’d ended up and… well, react.

Instead, she let out a muffled yawn, rolled off him without even opening her eyes, and sat up in one fluid, utterly unbothered motion.

“Morning,” she mumbled, rubbing at her face like she hadn’t just spent the night clinging to him like a backpack. “You want tea or coffee?”

Kakashi turned his head just enough to watch her shuffle toward the kettle, hair sticking up in every possible direction. “…You’re not going to mention—”

“Mention what?” She was already filling the pot.

He almost laughed. “Never mind.”

“Good,” she said over her shoulder. “’Cause I’m starving, and you’re making breakfast, remember?”

She moved around the small kitchen like nothing unusual had happened, humming tunelessly under her breath. Kakashi stayed where he was for another long moment, the echo of her warmth nagging at him in a way he couldn’t quite explain — except to admit, silently, that the line between them had gotten just a little thinner overnight.

By the time he dragged himself off the futon, the smell of instant coffee and something vaguely scorched was already in the air.

Naruto was hunched over the counter, poking at a small pan with the kind of frown that suggested she was fighting for her life against whatever she’d decided to cook. Her hair was still a little damp at the ends, plastered to her neck in thin strands.

“You know,” Kakashi said, stepping past her to rescue the pan before it turned into a lost cause, “there’s a reason you stick to ramen.”

She gave him a sidelong glare. “Rude. I’m trying to thank you for cleaning.”

“And I’m trying to keep us from dying,” he replied mildly, reaching for the eggs and rice she’d set out. His hands moved without thinking — whisking, seasoning, the quiet rhythm of cooking slipping over him like an old habit.

Naruto leaned back against the counter, arms folded, watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “You look weirdly at home in my kitchen.”

“It’s barely a kitchen,” he said, but his tone softened. “Still — I like to be thorough.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.

They ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor with their bowls, the rain muttering against the windows. Naruto ate fast, like she always did, but every so often she’d slow down just to tell him something about Ame — a shopkeeper she’d helped, a kid who’d given her a paper crane, the state of the market after the last storm.

He found himself listening more to the way she spoke than the words themselves — the warmth threading through every sentence, the ease that settled in when she forgot to guard it.

Halfway through her story, she reached across without thinking and swiped a bit of egg from his bowl. He gave her a flat look, and she just grinned, daring him to protest.

In another life, it could’ve been any ordinary morning. But here, with the rain outside and her across from him, it felt like something he shouldn’t get used to.

Which, of course, meant he probably would.

---

They’d kept it low-key at first.

Or at least, that was the plan.

No Hokage robes, no visible guard detail — just Kakashi in a dark civilian coat, hands in his pockets, trailing half a step behind Naruto as she wove through Ame’s narrow streets. The rain was steady but light, turning the puddles into mirrors. She was in her element here, nodding to vendors, exchanging quick greetings with the people who knew her by sight.

It wasn’t until they stopped to inspect a crate of vegetables that it happened.

A shopkeeper glanced up, really looked at him, and froze. “...You’re the Hokage.”

Kakashi tilted his head in polite acknowledgment, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.

By the time they reached the next street, three more people had spotted him. By the time they reached the open square, someone was calling out for others to come see.

Naruto shot him a sideways look, equal parts apology and amusement. “So much for being discreet.”

Kakashi’s eye curved faintly. “With you? That was never an option.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the crowd thickened around them — villagers eager to thank him for the convoys, to shake his hand, to call them a perfect pair. A few even joked about children. Naruto’s ears burnt at that, but Kakashi just kept his tone calm, steady, like it was all part of the job.

When they finally ducked into a tea shop to escape the rain and the attention, she blew out a breath. “Well. That escalated fast.”

Kakashi settled back in his chair. “Get used to it. We make a better story together than apart.”

Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable, before she reached for her cup.

------

The market was alive in that muted, Amegakure way — stalls tucked close together, voices carrying just far enough to be heard over the constant patter of rain on canvas awnings. Naruto was pointing out the difference between one vendor’s dried fish and another’s when she caught the shift in the crowd.

Not a normal shift.

The kind that meant someone important had just arrived.

Except this time, the “important someone” was walking right beside her.

It didn’t take long for the first aide to appear, weaving through the shoppers with the urgent politeness of someone sent by people who didn’t take “later” for an answer.

“Lord Hokage,” he said with a sharp bow. “The council requests your presence for an informal meeting.”

Naruto opened her mouth to say they were in the middle of something, but Kakashi’s hand settled lightly on her shoulder. “Lead the way,” he said.

By the time they reached the council chamber, half the seats were already filled. The air was thick with the kind of formality Naruto usually avoided like the plague.

One of the elder councillors — the same one who’d once called her “the Rain’s Hero” without irony — stood first. “Lord Hokage, we thank you for the timely delivery of supplies. Amegakure’s needs have eased, in no small part due to your intervention.”

Kakashi inclined his head, every inch the diplomat. “We’re allies. It’s my responsibility to make sure our bond means something in practice, not just on paper.” His gaze flicked toward her then — not a glance, but something steady, warm enough that her ears went hot. “And to make sure my fiancée is able to live and work here without unnecessary hardship.”

The council murmured approvingly. Naruto swallowed, pulse quickening.

“On that note,” Kakashi continued, “her current accommodations are inadequate. For someone representing both our villages, she should be afforded better lodging. Enough space for her work. Enough security to keep her safe.”

It wasn’t a request.

The head councillor nodded immediately. “It will be arranged.”

Another leaned forward, voice oily-casual. “And regarding your union — have you set a date?”

Naruto stiffened, her mouth opening, but Kakashi’s voice cut in first — even, unflappable. “No. We’ll decide that when it’s right for us, not before.”

The silence that followed stretched a breath too long, his tone sharper than diplomacy required. To the councillors, it read as devotion. They smiled approvingly.

Naruto, however, was still trying to steady her breathing.

The rest of the meeting blurred into discussions of trade routes, patrol exchanges, and future cooperation. Every so often, though, she caught the way Kakashi redirected a question toward her, made sure her voice carried in the room. Made sure they were looking at her as his equal.

By the end, the councillors were smiling like the alliance was the most natural thing in the world — and the wedding, an inevitability.

Which was fine, Naruto told herself as they stepped back into the rain. Totally fine.

Except for the part where her pulse still hadn’t slowed since he’d called her my fiancée in front of a room full of people.

---

The orphanage smelled faintly of soap and broth, the kind of clean that came from constant care rather than fresh paint. Rain tapped against the windows in soft, irregular beats.

Kakashi had come along thinking this would be a quick visit — shake a few hands, reassure the staff about continued support from Konoha, maybe slip Naruto an extra ration ledger if she needed it.

He should’ve known better.

Naruto was already on the floor by the time he stepped into the main room, sitting cross-legged in a circle of children like she’d been there all her life. Two boys were trying to braid her hair and failing spectacularly, while a tiny girl clung to her back like a second cloak. Naruto was laughing, head tipped back, letting them pull and tangle without a hint of complaint.

“You’re terrible at this,” she teased one of the boys, holding still anyway so he could keep trying. “But if we keep practicing, you’ll be better than me in no time.”

A chorus of giggles answered her.

One of the older staff members sidled up beside Kakashi, voice low but fond. “She’s here almost every day she’s in the village. The little ones adore her. Honestly, it’s a miracle she hasn’t taken half of them home with her.”

Another staffer — younger, bolder — leaned in from the other side. “Well, maybe she’s just practicing for when she has her own. With you, Lord Hokage, the children would be…” She trailed off, clearly picturing it. “Unstoppable.”

Kakashi’s posture didn’t shift, but the words landed anyway — heavier than they should have. Against his better judgment, the image formed instantly. Naruto in a sunlit yard, hair half-loose, three laughing whirlwinds tugging at her hands. Her grin sharp and easy, her eyes brighter than the sky, his hand brushing hers as she bent to scoop one up.

His throat tightened.

He blinked hard, forcing the picture away before it could take root, letting his gaze slide back to where she was now — still laughing, still tangled in the chaos, utterly at home. She caught his eye across the room and grinned like she’d just won something, and the shift in his chest came sharp and unwelcome.

The younger staffer chuckled. “You should stay a while, Lord Hokage. See how natural she is with them.”

Kakashi’s answer came smooth, quieter than he intended. “I already see it.”

—---

The rain had eased to a lazy drizzle by the time they stepped back into the street. The mist hung low, softening the edges of the market stalls. Naruto kept her hands shoved in her pockets, gaze fixed somewhere ahead — and not on the puddles she was absently stomping through.

“They’re lucky,” Kakashi said after a beat.

She glanced at him. “The kids?”

He nodded. “To have you there. Someone who notices.”

Her mouth curved — not her usual wide grin, but something smaller, more private. “They’re not lucky, Kakashi. They’re just… surviving. And no kid should have to do that alone.” A pause, then, softer: “I’ve always wanted kids, y’know? In the future. If possible.”

Kakashi kept his voice casual. “How many?”

“Two,” she said instantly. Then, after a beat, “Maybe three.”

It hit harder than she knew. He pictured it before he could stop himself — her laughter spilling out of a kitchen, little whirlwinds with her eyes tugging at her hands, his hand brushing hers as she bent to scoop one up. The image pressed too close to the daydream he’d already shoved down in the orphanage.

He cleared his throat. “That’s… ambitious.”

Naruto shot him a side-eye. “What, three’s too much for the great Copy Ninja?”

“I didn’t say that,” he drawled. “Just thinking about logistics. You’d have to keep them from eating all the instant ramen before dinner. And I’d have to…” He tilted his head in mock thought. “…what exactly would I be responsible for?”

“Everything else,” she fired back without missing a beat. “School drop-offs, bedtime stories, keeping them from learning your bad habits.”

Kakashi made a noise of mock offense. “Bad habits? Name one.”

“Late mornings. Messy hair. And…” she narrowed her eyes for emphasis, “…the constant reading of Icha Icha in inappropriate places.”

“That’s cultural education,” he deadpanned.

She barked a laugh, the tension breaking clean. “Right. Sure. And when they start quoting it to their friends?”

“I’ll deny everything.”

By then the drizzle had softened into barely more than mist, their pace slowed without either noticing.

“Fine,” she said at last, pretending to weigh it. “We’ll keep it to two. Less chaos.”

“Three,” he countered easily. “Two’s too quiet. And they’d gang up on us.”

Naruto grinned sideways at him. “Us, huh?”

He let his eye curve but didn’t answer. And she didn’t press.

The thought hung there — warm, ridiculous, dangerous — all the way back toward the heart of the village.

---

They ended up in one of the quieter corners of Amegakure — a side street tucked away from the market noise, where the rain gathered in slow drips off the eaves instead of pounding in sheets. The air smelled faintly of wet stone and oil from the lanterns overhead.

Naruto leaned back against the railing of a narrow footbridge, arms folded, watching the water eddy around the stilts below. “You ever think about how easy this all rolled out?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough over the rain.

Kakashi glanced at her sidelong. “You mean the engagement?”

“Yeah. We said it, and somehow everyone just… took it. No fight. No doubt. Like it was always supposed to be this way.” Her heel tapped lightly against the post. “Makes me wonder if we’re too good at this.”

He huffed something between a laugh and a sigh. “Maybe we are.”

“Sometimes,” she went on, eyes still on the water, “I don’t even need to act.”

His gaze sharpened, the pause stretching. “…That’s a dangerous thing to admit.”

“I know.” Her smile was small, crooked, almost self-mocking. “Guess I have only myself to blame.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain filled the silence, steady and patient. Naruto tilted her head up then, just enough that he could feel the weight of her eyes on him. Kakashi looked away, the line of his jaw set, his hands buried deeper in his pockets.

The thought neither of them voiced hung heavier than the mist around them, refusing to dissolve.

The rain kept falling.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Between the Lines

Konoha’s morning sun spilled through the wide windows of the Hokage’s office, catching on the fresh stack of mission reports like it was mocking him. The pile towered, leaning ever so slightly, the kind of bureaucratic avalanche that usually had Kakashi contemplating early retirement by mid-morning.

Today, he didn’t so much as sigh at it. Pen in hand, mask hiding the faint curve of his mouth, he looked… content. Worse — he looked like he could take on every storm the Five Nations threw at him and still have time for tea.

From the doorway, Shikamaru’s brow ticked up. “Guess who came back from sneaking out of his own office,” he muttered, arms crossed.

“Don’t tell me,” Yamato replied dryly, stepping in behind him. “He looks like a man who’s either been on vacation… or did something he’s not going to tell us about.”

Kakashi didn’t look up from signing the latest request. “If you two are done narrating my life, I can hear you perfectly well.”

“Right,” Shikamaru said, unconvinced. “And the fact that you left Konoha without putting it in the official travel log? Totally normal.”

“Must’ve been an important mission,” Yamato offered, voice mild but eyes sharp.

Kakashi set down his pen with infuriating calm. “You could say that.”

Shikamaru leaned against the frame, watching him a beat longer. “You look different.”

“Do I?” Kakashi’s tone was pure innocence.

Yamato’s gaze narrowed. “Like a man who’s seen something worth sneaking out for.”

Kakashi only hummed, the image of rain-slick streets and a certain barefoot kunoichi flashing through his mind. If they wanted answers, they weren’t going to get them here.

Shikamaru didn’t move. “So, Hokage… if this mission of yours was so important, why isn’t there a single scrap of paperwork about it?”

“Because,” Kakashi said evenly, “some things don’t need paperwork.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Yamato said, deadpan. “Coming from you.”

Shikamaru’s smirk sharpened. “You were in Amegakure, weren’t you?”

Kakashi’s pen paused mid-stroke. “And what makes you think that?”

“Because,” Shikamaru drawled, “the last time I saw you this… energized… was after one of those joint meetings. And now? You’ve got that same look. Only worse.”

“Worse?” Kakashi echoed.

“Like you’ve been well-fed, well-rested, and—” Shikamaru tipped his head, “—well-kept company.”

Yamato actually coughed, covering his mouth, but the way his eyes crinkled wasn’t subtle. “If you were going to sneak out to see your fiancée, you could’ve at least brought us back souvenirs.”

Kakashi stacked the finished reports with meticulous precision. “Naruto isn’t a souvenir.”

Shikamaru’s grin widened. “So you admit it.”

“I admitted nothing,” Kakashi said smoothly, though the faint upward curve of his eye was damning.

“Uh-huh,” Shikamaru replied, pushing off the frame. “Well, whatever happened in Ame, you might want to tone it down. The entire village is going to notice you’re… glowing.”

“I’m not glowing,” Kakashi said.

Yamato tilted his head. “You kind of are.”

Shikamaru folded his arms, smug. “Relaxed shoulders, soft eyes… what happened to the man who used to sigh every thirty seconds?”

“I still sigh,” Kakashi said mildly, reaching for the next folder. “I just do it internally now.”

Yamato leaned against the desk, studying him like he was a strange new species. “If this is the result of one trip to Amegakure, maybe we should send you more often.”

Kakashi didn’t look up. “You’re dangerously close to volunteering for my paperwork.”

Shikamaru smirked. “Still not denying it, though.”

“I deny nothing because there’s nothing to deny,” Kakashi replied, though the faint curve at the corner of his eye betrayed him again.

Yamato exchanged a glance with Shikamaru, then said, “Fine. But if you start smiling in council meetings, we’re staging an intervention.”

Shikamaru folded his arms. “Yeah. And that's troublesome.”

Kakashi sighed—not internally this time—and finally set his pen down. “Are you two done?”

“Not even close,” Shikamaru said just as a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Kakashi straightened. “Come in.”

An aide slipped in, bowing low. “Message from Amegakure, Hokage-sama. Urgent, but not… alarming.”

From the corner, Shikamaru’s eyebrows rose. “Ame again?”

Yamato muttered, “This ought to be good.”

Kakashi took the sealed scroll, but not before catching the spark of mischief in both their eyes.

“Don’t say it,” he warned.

Shikamaru’s grin was infuriating. “Just remember—whatever you’re hiding? You wear it on your face.”

Kakashi didn’t rise to the bait. He just cracked the seal on the scroll, the faint rasp of paper enough to finally shut them up. By the time he unfolded it, the room had gone quiet — Shikamaru and Yamato exchanging looks, then slipping out with the kind of smugness that said this isn’t over.

Left alone, Kakashi read.

Hokage-sama,
The situation regarding the recent shipments has shifted. Uzumaki-san is handling matters, but your input may soon be required.
—Council Liaison, Amegakure

He read it twice, the neat script doing nothing to soften the vague tone. Shifted could mean a dozen things — shortages, damaged goods, trade partners backing out. Or it could mean Naruto had bulldozed her way through another political snarl and made the council nervous.

Knowing her, it was probably both.

His fingers drummed once against the desk, eye lingering on her name. If they’d sent this directly to him, it meant they weren’t entirely sure she’d ask for help herself. Which, of course, she wouldn’t.

Kakashi leaned back, gaze on the ceiling. Two weeks ago, he’d told himself his trip to Ame had been necessary for morale — hers, theirs, the villagers’. Now, with that steady pull in his chest at the thought of her shouldering whatever this “shift” was alone, he was starting to wonder if he’d believed that even for a second.

“You’re thinking about going,” Shikamaru said flatly.

Kakashi blinked. He hadn’t even heard the door. Shikamaru was already back in the chair opposite, Yamato propped against the frame again like they’d just stepped out for dramatic timing.

Kakashi’s visible eye narrowed. “Didn’t you leave?” 

Of course they hadn't actually gone far. “Mm. Came back,” Shikamaru said, completely unbothered. “Because I knew you’d still be sitting here staring at that letter like it’s gonna sprout legs and answer itself.”

Yamato folded his arms. “He’s definitely thinking about going.”

Shikamaru sighed, long-suffering. “That letter’s talking about the grain deal, isn’t it? Knew it was gonna be a pain. Private suppliers smell desperation and start jacking up their prices, adding ‘special conditions’… and knowing her, she’ll try to muscle through it without asking for help.”

Kakashi’s eye slid toward him. “And your point?”

“My point,” Shikamaru said, leaning back, “is that this isn’t going to stop unless you put your foot down. You walk in, make it clear you’re not just sending goods — you’re personally backing her. They won’t risk pulling this twice.”

Yamato nodded, pragmatic. “It’s not even a bluff. Her fiancé happens to be the Hokage. That’s leverage they can’t ignore, especially if you use it to shut down the middlemen taking advantage.”

Kakashi’s gaze dropped back to the letter. Hokage card or not, it wasn’t just about fixing the shipment. Not entirely.

“Sounds like you’ve made up my mind for me,” he said lightly, though the weight in his chest had already decided hours ago.

–

Two weeks later, the rain was heavier than usual — the kind that turned every gutter into a river and made even Amegakure’s veterans walk with their heads down.

Naruto had been on her feet since dawn, splitting her time between the council building and the storehouse, double-checking inventory after the latest delivery had come in short again. She was halfway through drafting yet another politely furious letter to the supplier when the usual rhythm of the market shifted.

It wasn’t the rain that caught her attention. It was the sudden ripple of voices outside — curious, surprised, a little sharper than usual.

From the far end of the street, three figures in Konoha flak vests moved through the crowd. One she recognised instantly: Sai, his easy smile doing nothing to hide the way his eyes tracked everything around them. Beside him, Yamato, calm as ever but with that slight forward lean that meant business.

And in the middle—

Naruto blinked, sure for a second the rain was playing tricks on her.

Hatake Kakashi.

Not in robes — he was dressed for travel, jōnin uniform neat and dry under a long cloak, hands in his pockets like this was just another patrol. But she could feel the shift in the air around him, the way people on the street slowed, stared, stepped aside.

It was the Hokage, in Amegakure. And nobody had warned her.

The council liaison she’d been arguing with stiffened, already moving to greet them. Naruto stayed where she was, pulse doing stumbling in her throat as the three of them crossed the square.

Kakashi’s eyes found her almost immediately. No grand wave, no grin — just the faint lift of his brow, like he’d known exactly where she’d be.

And that was when it sank in: this wasn’t a social call. Sai and Yamato’s presence made it official. This was Konoha business.

But still—he’d come. Here. For her.

Her mouth went dry, disbelief catching her for a heartbeat before the words finally came out.
“…You’re kidding me,” she muttered, eyes flicking between him and the men flanking him. “You brought backup?”

Kakashi stopped just short of her, the rain sliding off the hood he still hadn’t lowered. “I heard there was a problem.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she muttered, still trying to figure out if she was more rattled by the fact that he’d shown up at all or that he was here in that capacity — the Hokage, in her territory.

Sai offered her a mild smile. “We thought you could use some help.”

“You thought wrong,” she shot back automatically, but her gaze kept snagging on Kakashi. He was watching her the way he always did before a fight — unreadable, steady, as if waiting for her to show her hand first.

“You could’ve sent a message,” she said finally.

“I could have,” he agreed. “But then I wouldn’t get to see your face when I show up unannounced.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, because she couldn’t tell if that was a joke, a jab, or something that hit a little closer than either.

Somewhere behind them, the liaison cleared his throat, clearly eager to usher them into the council building. Kakashi’s eye curved faintly, but he didn’t move just yet.

“Ready to let me in on what’s been going on?” he asked, voice low enough for only her to hear.

Naruto blinked at him, still dripping in the middle of the street. “…Not sure if I’m ready for you in this mess.”

His answer was the smallest tilt of his head, rain darkening the silver at his temple. “Too late. I’m already here.”

And just like that, he stepped past her, leaving her to follow — heart still catching up to the fact that he’d crossed miles of storm to stand in front of her like it was nothing.

–

He didn’t look back to see if she followed — he knew she would.

The rain was steady, beading on his cloak, muting the sound of the market around them. He could hear her footsteps catching up, the splash of her sandals against the puddles, the faint hitch in her breathing that told him she was still trying to process him being here at all.

He kept his pace even, giving her room, but not enough that she could drift away. Not this time.

When she drew even with him, he caught her out of the corner of his eye. The flush from earlier was still there, a little brighter now, and not entirely from the cold. She was tired — he could see it in the slump of her shoulders — but there was something else, too. A flicker of relief that hadn’t quite settled.

Whatever she’d been dealing with, it had ground her down more than she’d admit. And maybe she thought she was protecting him from it, keeping the mess contained here in Amegakure.

But the thing about messes was… they didn’t scare him.

“Too late,” he’d told her, and he meant it.

If she thought he’d crossed half the continent just to smile, nod, and let her burn herself out, she didn’t know him at all.

Up ahead, the council liaison was still talking, but Kakashi’s mind was on the way her voice had caught when she saw him. The way she’d looked like she wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed, relieved, or something else entirely.

Whatever it was, he’d take it.

Because he’d come for exactly that — to stand between her and whatever storm had been battering her here.

And this time, he wasn’t leaving until it broke.

---

The council chamber’s side room was barely larger than a supply closet, damp paper and rusted gutters. A narrow desk pressed against one wall left little space for the two of them to stand, which meant he could feel the low heat radiating off her, even through the cling of his still-damp sleeve. Outside, rain threaded down the warped glass in steady, silver lines.

Naruto’s hair was plastered in damp gold strands to her jaw, her jacket hanging half-zipped over a bandaged rib she clearly hadn’t intended him to see. Up close, the shadows under her eyes were sharper than he liked. Two weeks of running negotiations, wrangling stubborn merchants, and doing half the labor herself had worn her thin.

And something else was riding her shoulders — something she hadn’t told him yet. He could read it in the way she kept glancing toward the door, jaw tight, like she was bracing for a particular face to walk in.

“You still shouldn’t bother,” she muttered, crossing her arms but not stepping away from him. “You’re busy enough, and you were just here not even a month ago—”

He didn’t interrupt. Just let her burn off the edges of her protest, watching the line between her brows deepen, the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“I mean, really,” she added, voice low, “you’ve got a whole village to run, and I’m not—”

She caught herself. Cut off mid-sentence, lips pressing into a line.

The room seemed to shrink another inch.

Her sigh was quieter than the rain. “…Will you handle them for me?”

So there it was — not the whole truth, not yet, but enough to know she’d finally decided to let him in.

He let the silence stretch, just long enough to make her shift her weight. Then he let his mouth tilt under the mask, a faint, knowing curve. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Her jaw worked. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes flicking up at him as though daring him to drop it. But when she finally spoke, the word slipped out lower than she meant, soft and reluctant, like it had been pulled from her throat.
“…Please.”

The sound tugged at something in him harder than he wanted to admit. She’d said it like she hated giving ground — but the fact she’d said it at all… He felt it land the same way her face had in the square when she first saw him: that crack of disbelief that he’d actually come.

He shifted, angling the moment away with a low hum. “Does that come with a reward?”

Her eyes narrowed — not with any real heat, more the way she did when she was testing him, gauging how far she could push. “Fine. After.”

It wasn’t leverage he wanted. He wasn’t here to collect on anything. But the thought of her giving him something — anything — just because he’d asked… that lodged somewhere in his chest in a way he didn’t care to examine too closely.

They stood there, close enough that the edge of her damp sleeve brushed against his knuckles, her breath slow but audible in the tight space. She didn’t step back. Neither did he.

And if the council outside thought they were discussing wedding details, he wasn’t going to correct them — not when whoever had been making her life this difficult was about to find out just how unpleasant it could be to mistake his fiancée for someone they could push around.

Kakashi shifted first, or at least he thought he did — it was hard to tell with her standing that close, damp hair brushing his sleeve, eyes catching on his like she was weighing something she had no business weighing.

“So,” she muttered, glancing at the too-small doorway, “how the hell did we even end up in this broom closet?”

He let his eye curve. “Council said it was the only free space.”

She glanced at the desk wedged between them and the wall. “Uh-huh. I call bullshit.”

He made a vague gesture toward the door. “Ladies first.”

She arched a brow. “So you can walk right into me in the hallway?”

“That would require you to move slowly,” he said, tone mild. “Which I’ve never seen you do.”

Her mouth worked around a comeback that never quite landed. She slipped past him, brushing against his arm in a way that felt more deliberate than accidental, though he told himself not to think about it too much. She still smelled faintly of rain and soap.

When they stepped out into the corridor, the air was cooler — and full of eyes.

Sai stood there, his expression as politely blank as always, but there was the faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth that Kakashi didn’t trust. Beside him, Yamato had his arms folded, gaze flicking between them like he’d just walked in on a scene he intended to remember for later use.

Two of Amegakure’s council aides lingered nearby with clipboards in hand, murmuring to each other in a way that was meant to look discreet. It wasn’t. Whatever they’d been picturing, it had clearly been going on in their heads long before Kakashi arrived — and now, seeing the two of them step out of a cramped room together, it was probably cemented into village legend.

Naruto’s ears were already red. Kakashi didn’t bother correcting anyone. He simply adjusted his hitai-ate with a gloved hand, as though this were the most ordinary scene in the world.

“Shall we?” he asked, and if his tone was a fraction smoother than usual, no one needed to point it out.

---

The council chamber smelled faintly of old paper and rain. Not fresh rain — the sour, metallic scent of it after it’s run over tin roofs and through rusted gutters. The walls sweated with condensation. Amegakure’s council had crammed themselves in a half-circle around the low table, faces drawn and clothes damp, looking more like a group of exhausted farmers than political leaders.

Kakashi sat at the head of the table, hands folded loosely, face unreadable. Sai was two seats down, smiling in that unnerving way that made civilians fidget. Yamato stood just behind Kakashi’s chair, silent but radiating a steady, immovable presence.

Across from him, Naruto lounged — or at least she pretended to. She’d pulled her hood back but left her hair slightly messy, a stubborn streak of damp bangs clinging to her cheek. He’d noticed, of course. He’d also noticed the stiffness in her left side when she shifted, the way she sat angled to keep her ribs from brushing the table edge.

One of the older councilors cleared his throat. “As you are aware, Hokage-sama, the shipments from Land of Rivers arrived three days ago. Your intervention with the Konoha convoy… eased many concerns. The people are grateful.”

Another, a thin man with sharp fingers, leaned forward. “However… the arrangement with the Narashi merchant family remains unresolved.”

Kakashi steepled his fingers. “I read the brief. They’ve been overcharging you for basic grain and cooking oil for three seasons now.”

“It is not so simple,” the first councilor said quickly, darting a glance toward Naruto. “We… owe them a considerable debt from before the war. Their influence on our supply chains is… difficult to untangle.”

“And,” another voice added, hesitant, “there were… other considerations.”

Kakashi felt, rather than saw, Naruto shift beside him — a subtle weight toward him, her gaze cutting sharp as a kunai toward the speaker. The man’s words caught in his throat. He coughed, looked down at his notes, and didn’t finish his sentence.

Interesting.

Kakashi didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he let the silence stretch, the rain filling it, and when the merchant’s name came up again, he simply said, “Konoha will assume the outstanding debt.”

That got their attention. Heads turned, eyes widened.

“You—?” the older councilor started.

“I’ll have the contract redrawn,” Kakashi continued, voice smooth but edged. “Effective immediately, all grain shipments will move through a joint supply agreement. Konoha will cover the arrears and guarantee fair market rates for Amegakure moving forward. In return, your merchants will cooperate with our distribution network. No more choke points.”

A stocky councilor frowned, shaking his head. “And when the Narashi family refuses? They’ll threaten to cut ties completely. We can’t afford to provoke them into shutting their doors.”

Kakashi didn’t bother to hide his smile this time. “They don’t have to like it. They just have to agree.”

The man looked ready to object again — until Sai’s polite voice slid into the space between them. “We’ve already discreetly reached out to the merchant’s competitors in Tea Country. They’re… eager for an opportunity. I believe that will make the decision easier.”

That landed. The worried councilor faltered, muttering into his sleeve, while others exchanged glances — calculating, hopeful.

It was neat. Clean. A solution that didn’t require Naruto to burn herself out bargaining with people who saw her as leverage.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her exhale, the tension in her shoulders loosening by degrees. She didn’t thank him — not here, not in front of the council — but she glanced at him briefly, and there was something unguarded in her expression.

The meeting wound down with murmured agreements, plans for signatures and sealings. Someone inevitably brought up “the joyous union between our Hokage and Uzumaki-san” as a symbol of their new cooperation, and Kakashi simply inclined his head, the perfect picture of diplomatic patience.

Across the table, Naruto’s jaw tightened, her eyes cutting sideways toward the speaker in a way that was sharp enough to nick steel. Whatever the man had been about to say earlier, she clearly wasn’t about to let it see daylight — not here, not now.

Kakashi didn’t push. There would be time for that later.

For now, the grain would flow, the shelves would fill, and the whispers in the streets would have something harmless to chew on. He could live with that.

What he couldn’t quite ignore was the flicker in her expression when she looked at him — relief, yes, but something else he couldn’t name. Something that made him sit back in his chair and think, not for the first time, that this ridiculous ruse was getting far too easy for both of them.

–

The morning smelled of wet stone and strong tea — the kind of weather Amegakure seemed to carry in its bones.

The council chamber was cooler than the night before, though still small enough that every breath seemed to echo. Kakashi stood at the head of the table, the redrawn contract spread neatly in front of him. The ink was barely dry. He’d written it himself, line by line, until even Shikamaru had stopped sighing and nodded.

The merchant representative arrived with two aides in tow, all in deep indigo robes slick with rain. The man’s face was composed, mouth set in a polite, neutral line. Not warm, but not combative either.

Kakashi didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to Naruto when she entered the room. She was in her usual mission gear, fresh bandages peeking from her collar, hair still damp from the morning. She took the seat beside Kakashi without hesitation, back straight, chin high — the picture of unbothered confidence.

“Shall we begin?” Kakashi’s voice was mild, but it left no room for argument. He slid the parchment across the table, every clause an iron bar. No back doors. No ‘favors’ traded for grain. Payment schedules clearly set. Penalties for delay.

The merchant read it, the corners of his mouth tightening just slightly. But whatever objections he might have rehearsed, he swallowed them. Kakashi could almost hear the arithmetic in his head — the calculation of what losing Amegakure’s protection and Konoha’s goodwill would do to his profits.

“It’s acceptable,” the man said finally, and dipped his brush in ink.

Beside him, Naruto let out a breath that wasn’t quite relief. Kakashi glanced at her and caught the faintest twitch of her mouth, not a smile exactly, but something that told him she’d been expecting more of a fight.

The merchant rep laid the signed contract aside with a soft thud, the brush still wet in his hand. “It’s done, then,” he said, a shade too smoothly.

He rose, tucking the parchment into one of his aides’ arms, and offered the room a polite bow. “Before I take my leave… my family would be honored if the Hokage, the esteemed council of Amegakure, and your companions would join us this evening. We’ve prepared a small gathering to celebrate the successful agreement.”

The words were mild, but the moment they left his mouth, Kakashi saw Naruto stiffen beside him. Not much — just the faint lock of her shoulders, the stillness in her hands — but enough for him to note it.

He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “We appreciate the invitation,” he said evenly, “but I’m afraid our schedules won’t allow it.”

The rep’s smile didn’t falter, though something behind his eyes sharpened. “A pity,” he said, his tone just shy of disappointed. “The household was very much looking forward to meeting the Hokage in person.”

Then his gaze slid to Naruto, lingering in a way that was neither casual nor entirely polite. “And Lady Uzumaki, of course. The young master sends his regards.”

Kakashi’s brow lifted a fraction. Beside him, Naruto’s mouth pressed into a flat, unyielding line, her jaw tight, fingers curling once against her thigh under the table before she forced them still.

The air in the council chamber cooled by a degree. No one spoke.

The rep seemed to notice, but if the silence unsettled him, he hid it well. His expression even warmed by a fraction as he stepped back toward the door. “You’re all still welcome, should you change your minds.”

He left with his aides, the faint scent of wet cloth and expensive ink lingering behind him.

Only when the door clicked shut did the murmurs start again, low and uneasy.

Kakashi didn’t join them. He was still watching Naruto, filing away the reaction she’d worked so hard to keep neutral.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

When the Rain Holds Its Breath 

Naruto’s new lodging was the kind of place Amegakure rarely gave away — not lavish, but solid, well-kept, and most importantly, dry. The single room had polished wooden floors instead of bare planks, proper insulation against the constant rain, and a low table by the window that actually looked meant for use rather than for storage. A far cry from the drafty, overstuffed storeroom she’d been calling home before.

It wasn’t his first time here. He’d stepped inside the night before, just long enough to make sure she’d actually moved in and wasn’t still trying to sleep on top of supply crates. But tonight, the air between them felt different — thick with the words neither had spoken since leaving the council chamber.

They’d walked here side by side in near silence. She hadn’t looked at him once, her eyes fixed somewhere ahead, expression drawn tight. Kakashi hadn’t pushed, but the set of his jaw had been answer enough: he was annoyed, and she knew it.

When they finally reached her door, she unlocked it without a word and let him in. The sound of the latch clicking shut seemed to deepen the quiet. She moved to set aside her cloak, fingers fidgeting with the damp fabric, while he stood in the middle of the room, watching her avoid his gaze.

Minutes passed like that — the rain tapping against the window, her fussing with nothing in particular, him waiting.

“Speak,” he said at last, not sharp but firm.

Naruto hesitated, still not looking up. “…I know you’re not going to take it well.”

Kakashi’s hands slid into his pockets, his voice low. “…Don’t mind me. But what did that man mean?”

The words settled between them, heavier than the rain outside.

---

Naruto hated when he did this — stood there, calm and immovable, until the words scraped their way out of her throat.

“It’s nothing,” she tried, but even she could hear how thin it sounded. She looked down, fixating on the slope of his shoulder right there in front of her. It would be so easy to lean into it, just for a second. Too easy.

He waited. Patient. Unshakable. She could feel him there, not budging, not letting her wriggle out of it.

Her breath left her in a slow, resigned sigh. “…They made everything harder on purpose. The prices. The delays. The permits.” She swallowed. “Because they had an… offer. Said they’d smooth things over if I agreed to marry their heir. And—” she hesitated, jaw tightening, “—be… theirs. In every way they wanted.”

She kept her eyes on the floor after she said it.

Kakashi's fingers flexed, as if already reaching for a kunai.

So it wasn’t just marriage. It was leverage. Ownership. A calculated move to strip her of her name, her choices, and turn her into a trade good they could claim. He felt the heat rise in his chest, sharp and cold at the same time.

Now the weeks of exhaustion made sense. The bruises she hadn’t bothered to hide, the way she brushed off any offer of help, the brittle humor she used like armor. She hadn’t just been negotiating for Amegakure — she’d been fending off a slow, deliberate siege.

And she hadn’t said a word.

Because she didn’t want to burden him. Or maybe because she thought he wouldn’t come. Either way, it was a line she hadn’t crossed — until now.

“…That’s what he meant,” he said at last, low enough that no one beyond the thin wall could hear.

She flinched — barely, but enough — and didn’t answer.

Kakashi’s fingers flexed at his side, the muscle in his jaw drawing tight. He’d pieced it together from the tension in her shoulders when the man spoke, from the way her eyes had gone sharp in the council room — a kunoichi bracing for a fight she shouldn’t have had to fight alone. And now he knew why.

Some merchant house, fat off wartime trade, had looked at her — at his student, his partner, his fiancée — and thought they could turn her into a bargaining chip.

They’d smiled while doing it.

If it had been anyone else, maybe he would’ve handled it with the usual distance. But this? This wasn’t just about supply lines or diplomacy anymore. This was personal.

“I guess,” he said, voice smooth in that way it got when he was anything but calm, “we’re attending the after-deal party after all.”

Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Kakashi—”

“No.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the steel in it was unmistakable. “You’re not talking me out of this one.”

She opened her mouth again, then shut it. He didn’t miss the way her throat moved, or the faintest bloom of color at her cheeks.

Good, he thought, already mapping out the conversation he intended to have with that merchant’s “heir.” Let them see exactly who they’d been trying to toy with — and just how badly they’d miscalculated.

---

Yamato fell into step beside him in the corridor outside the guest wing, the muffled patter of rain just barely audible through the high windows. “Tell me again why we’re going to this after-deal party?” Yamato asked, tone casual, but his eyes were already weighing him.

“Diplomatic courtesy,” Kakashi said without looking at him.

“And the real reason?”

Kakashi didn’t answer. He didn’t need to—the tight set of his jaw said enough.

That merchant’s heir. The way the man’s envoy had looked at her when he mentioned him—like she was already a piece of property changing hands. Like the title of “Hokage’s fiancée” was just another bargaining chip to pocket. Kakashi had seen that kind of arrogance before on battlefields and in back rooms, and it had always ended the same way: with someone learning exactly how far they could be pushed before something broke.

If they thought they could circle her, corner her, pressure her into anything—he’d be more than happy to educate them. Thoroughly.

The door at the far end slid open, shattering the thought.

She stepped out with an Ame aide at her side, and for a heartbeat, even the rain seemed to hush. Naruto had always been pretty—sometimes in that effortless, maddening way that made people trip over themselves just to get her attention. Her old missions had left her lean and sharp, but there was always that underlying warmth, the spark that drew people in.

But tonight… tonight was deliberate.

The dress was a deep, muted blue that caught the lamplight like still water, the fabric skimming the curve of her hips and tapering along her waist before falling in a clean line to her knees. Soft curls framed her face, the gold in her hair catching the glow, and the faint color on her lips turned the familiar into something arresting. She wasn’t trying to disappear into the room. She was walking in prepared to be seen.

Prepared to play the part. His part.

“Wow,” Yamato muttered under his breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re staring, senpai. Intently.”

Kakashi didn’t even blink. “Observing,” he corrected, though the word lacked its usual lazy drawl. His gaze tracked her every step, every shift of fabric. He had the sudden, absurd thought that if that merchant’s brat so much as looked at her the wrong way tonight, Kakashi might forget entirely that he was here on diplomatic business.

As the aide murmured something to her, she glanced up and caught him looking. For the briefest moment, there was relief in her eyes—quick as a flicker of lightning—before her expression smoothed over.

Relief – of all things he'd expected –he hadn't thought she'd look like she'd been waiting for him to notice.

Sai slipped in from the opposite door, eyes flicking between them like he was studying brushstrokes. “Your pupils are larger than normal, Hokage-sama,” he said blandly. “That usually indicates strong emotion. I assume it’s because your fiancée looks… different tonight.”

Naruto made a strangled noise. “Sai!”

He tilted his head. “It’s not an insult. You’re more symmetrical than usual. And your posture is improved. The dress must be helping.”

Her cheeks went crimson. “I will end you.”

Kakashi didn’t look away from her. Didn’t trust himself to. Sai’s eyes slid back to him. “You’re still staring.”

“Mm,” Kakashi murmured behind his mask, letting the smallest hint of a smile curl at his mouth. “And you’re still talking.”

Yamato’s low chuckle broke the tension.

Kakashi pushed off the wall, nodding toward the hallway. “We should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep our hosts waiting.”

Naruto muttered something under her breath that was almost definitely a threat, but she fell into step beside him anyway.

---

The merchant’s estate was all polished stone and overcompensating lanterns, every surface reflecting back the warm gold of the evening lights. Rain hissed against the tiled roofs, running down carved gutters into decorative basins. The air smelled faintly of oil and expensive incense — a scent that didn’t belong in Amegakure’s streets.

Their little procession moved through the open courtyard: Ame councilors first, then the Konoha delegation—Yamato, Sai, and himself—Naruto walking between them in that blue dress that still felt like some kind of personal test.

Kakashi kept half a step behind her. Not because he was letting her lead, but because it gave him the perfect angle to scan the crowd… and to watch every man’s eyes land where his already had earlier tonight.

He didn’t like the way some of them lingered.

He liked even less that one pair of those eyes belonged to the merchant’s heir, lounging in the shadow of the main hall, his smirk already in place like he’d been practicing it in a mirror.

Kakashi’s jaw tightened under the mask. This was the boy who’d been turned into leverage. This was the reason Naruto’s shoulders had been tight for weeks, the reason she’d looked thinner, the reason her pantry had been bare enough to make him want to send half of Konoha’s storerooms across the border.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between himself and Naruto so his shoulder brushed hers. It was deliberate. So was the way his hand drifted—lightly—against her lower back, just enough to guide her forward as they approached the host.

She startled, a flicker of heat flashing across her cheeks. Then, as if to prove some unspoken point, she leaned a fraction closer, her elbow brushing his side in a casual familiarity she’d perfected back when she was still his student—only now there was nothing of “student” about her. The warmth of her arm burned through his sleeve.

The heir’s smirk faltered.

The merchant’s representative from that morning stepped forward, bowing deeply to Kakashi before turning to Naruto with a too-smooth smile. “Hokage-sama, Lady Uzumaki. An honor to have you here. The household has been… eager for this meeting.” His gaze lingered far too long on her, just as it had before. “The young master been ecstatic about it.”

Kakashi didn’t say anything at first. He let his visible eye go flat, the kind of look that had stopped missing-nin mid-step and made diplomats swallow their tongues. The man’s smile wavered, just slightly.

Beside him, Naruto’s mouth was a thin, unamused line. She didn’t say a word either—but she didn’t move away from Kakashi’s hand. If anything, she shifted into it, like she was planting herself there on purpose. He caught the glance she shot him from under her lashes, and it landed like a kunai between his ribs.

Message received, loud and clear.

Two could play in that game.

Kakashi’s palm flattened more firmly against the small of her back, drawing her in just enough that anyone watching would see a couple entirely at ease in each other’s space. “Shall we?” he murmured, pitched for her alone, but with enough of a lazy drawl to make it look like an intimate aside.

Her lips twitched in a smirk. “Lead the way… ‘Kashi.”

Yamato, walking just behind them, was suspiciously silent. Sai, on the other hand, was studying them like a new ink sketch.

They stepped into the lantern-lit hall together, rain still dripping from the eaves behind them. The heir straightened in his seat, his smirk gone entirely now. Good, Kakashi thought. Let him see exactly what he’ll never have.

---

The reception hall smelled like money. Not the kind Konoha earned through trade or mission contracts—this was the kind that came from squeezing every last coin from people who couldn’t afford to lose it. Kakashi felt it in the polished wood under his sandals, in the ostentatious gold-threaded screens, in the way the servers’ eyes never met the guests’.

The merchant family was all smiles—wide, lacquered things that didn’t touch their eyes. The patriarch rose from the head of the table with the slow, deliberate ease of a man used to making others wait.

“Hokage-sama,” he said, voice oiled for diplomacy. “Amegakure is most fortunate to have your… personal interest.”

There it was again. The nudge. The implication.

Kakashi didn’t blink. “Konoha stands by its allies,” he said, letting the title sit between them like a kunai on the table. The merchant’s eyes flickered. Just a fraction.

Beside him, Naruto smiled politely, the kind of smile that looked harmless until you’d been on the receiving end of her temper. She reached for the tea set, but when she poured his cup, her fingers brushed the inside of his wrist—light, quick, but not clumsy. He'd taught her precision too well for that.

Kakashi glanced at her. She was still smiling at the merchant, as if nothing had happened, but there was a spark in her eyes that had nothing to do with diplomacy.

The merchant tried again. “Our family has always valued… close ties. This arrangement between you and Lady Uzumaki is most auspicious.” His gaze slid toward Naruto again, appraising in a way that tightened Kakashi’s grip around his teacup.

“She is Konoha’s,” Kakashi said, tone still calm, but edged now. “And Konoha takes care of its own.”

That made the man’s smile falter. One of the younger clerks actually shifted in his seat. Good. Let the reminder settle.

Naruto, still the picture of serene politeness, shifted her chair just enough that her knee brushed against his under the table. Not once—she left it there. Solid. Warm. Unmoving.

He didn’t move away. Didn’t even pretend to.

She spoke then, voice bright enough to make the merchant flinch at the sudden change. “We’re looking forward to working together,” she said, tilting her head so that a curl brushed her cheek, catching the lamplight. “Amegakure will remember Konoha’s support for a long time.”

The patriarch nodded, muttering something about mutual prosperity, but his eyes didn’t stray again.

Kakashi sipped his tea, watching the man over the rim of the cup, feeling the steady press of Naruto’s knee against his own. It was a game, yes, but one she’d chosen to play. And he was more than willing to match her, move for move.

If these merchants thought they could use her as a bargaining chip, they were about to learn exactly how steep the price of that gamble could be.

---

The dining room had given way to a lounge space—low tables pushed back, cushions scattered like an afterthought, the air thick with incense and the muted thrum of rain on the high, glassed roof. Servants drifted through with fresh trays of sake, and the merchants had loosened their collars, their laughter growing louder with each refill.

Kakashi kept to Naruto’s side, half an ear on Yamato making polite conversation with one of the junior aides, half on the patriarch holding court across the room. The man was in his element now, no longer bound by the stiffness of the signing table. He was telling some overblown story about a trade deal with the Land of Tea, gesturing with a cup as if he’d personally pulled the ships ashore.

The heir sat a little too close to Naruto. Young, expensively dressed, with the kind of smirk Kakashi had seen on rookie shinobi who thought a flashy jutsu was the same as skill. Every few minutes, the boy angled toward her, offering another pour, another comment he thought charming.

Naruto deflected with the same casual ease she’d use to sidestep a half-hearted punch—smiling, nodding, letting the words slide right past. But Kakashi saw it: the minute tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers tapped once against her thigh like a warning drumbeat.

Kakashi poured himself more sake without looking, though his peripheral vision stayed locked on the heir. He let his other hand rest on the low table, palm open, fingers loose—until the young man leaned just a little closer to Naruto, his hand hovering near hers.

The warmth in Kakashi’s chest turned sharp. It wasn’t just irritation; it was territorial, a blade-edge of protectiveness he didn’t bother to dull.

He felt Naruto shift beside him a second before he would have moved. Her hand slid across the table and pressed flat against his chest—not shoving, just there, a steadying weight over his heart. He caught the faintest scent of rain in her hair as she leaned in, tilting up onto her toes to bring her mouth to his ear.

“Don’t,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

Her eyes flicked to his then, steady, daring him to make her stop him twice.

It wasn’t loud, not quite—but it carried. The heir’s smirk faltered, his gaze flicking away as though burned. Naruto’s eyes stayed on him, steady and unblinking, the curve of her lips almost a challenge.

Kakashi didn’t move. Not because he couldn’t, but because he was very aware of her hand, her voice, the deliberate brush of her mouth close enough to feel. And if the heir wanted to keep testing the edges of this particular fiction, well… Kakashi had plenty of ways to remind him just how real it could become.

The heir didn’t try again after that. Oh, he kept glancing her way, the flickers of curiosity and bruised ego written all over his face, but the easy confidence was gone.

Kakashi let him stew. There was no point in wasting words on a fool who’d already been warned once—especially when Naruto’s hand stayed just long enough against his chest for him to feel her pulse, quick but steady, before she pulled away like nothing had happened.

The party wound down in that languid, sticky way these things always did, small knots of conversation breaking apart, sake cups refilling themselves as though by magic. When the patriarch finally approached to bid them farewell, Kakashi rose with him, keeping Naruto at his side.

“It’s been… enlightening,” he said evenly, the kind of neutral tone that left people unsure whether to thank him or apologize. His gaze cut briefly toward the heir before returning to the elder merchant. “But I’d suggest your household remember the terms you signed today.”

A polite bow from the man. “Of course, Hokage-sama.”

“And while you’re at it,” Kakashi went on, voice dropping just enough that the people nearest leaned in without realizing it, “remember who brought peace after the war. Remember why the Five Great Nations work together now—and why it would be… unwise… to test that cooperation.”

The elder straightened a fraction, eyes narrowing in the smallest flinch.

“The only reason my fiancée hasn’t dealt with certain… behavior… herself,” Kakashi continued, his gaze sliding toward the heir for a beat too long, “is because she chooses not to drag my name into petty disputes.”

Naruto didn’t move, but the air around her felt different—charged, waiting. Kakashi almost smiled at the thought of what she’d have done if she’d given herself permission.

He leaned back slightly, hands in his pockets, the weight of his presence settling like a closing shoji door. “Don’t give her a reason to change her mind.”

Silence clung to the space between them for a moment too long. Then the merchant’s bow came deeper, tighter. “Understood, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi returned a nod, already turning toward the door. Naruto followed, her chin high, the faintest glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She didn’t need him to speak for her—he knew that. But sometimes, letting people see just how dangerous she could be, if she wanted to be, was the loudest warning of all.

And if this household had any sense, they’d never try their luck again.

---

The rain had thinned to a silver mist by the time they left the merchant’s hall, the storm’s earlier fury dulled to a soft, steady hiss against the rooftops. Lanterns hanging from shopfronts turned the slick stone streets into ribbons of blurred gold and shadow. Yamato and Sai walked a few paces ahead, voices low, shoulders occasionally shaking with quiet laughter. Naruto didn’t have to hear the words to know what they were laughing about — she could feel it in the sideways glances they kept throwing over their shoulders.

She didn’t care.

Kakashi’s hand was still at the small of her back. He’d put it there on the way to the party, a casual enough gesture she’d told herself was just for the sake of appearances. But after dinner, after the merchant’s heir had tried leaning in far too close while Kakashi was speaking with one of the older councilmen, that same hand had shifted — firm, grounding, his presence suddenly a wall at her side.

She could still see it in her mind: the exact second Kakashi’s eyes went flat and cold, his entire frame going still, every line of him sharpened into something dangerous.

He was going to put that brat through the nearest wall, Kurama murmured in her head, voice slow and edged with amusement. You stopped him.

She had — without thinking. One palm against his chest, stepping into his space just enough that her shoulder brushed his arm, rising on her toes until her lips were a breath from his ear. “Don’t,” she’d said, pitched just loud enough for the heir to hear. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

She’d felt the faint catch of his breath. Watched his eye narrow, not at her, but at the man over her shoulder. And though Kakashi eventually leaned back, he hadn’t moved his hand.

Even now, as they walked in silence behind their teammates, his palm rested lightly at the curve of her spine, thumb brushing once — maybe by accident, maybe not. Naruto told herself not to read into it. She also didn’t make him stop.

By the time they reached her new apartment, her pulse had settled into something almost steady. The place still didn’t feel like hers — too clean, too orderly, none of her clutter spilling out of boxes — but it was better than the cramped storeroom she’d been using before.

She slid the door open and stepped aside for him. His hand finally left her back, but only because he stepped in first, scanning the space like he was checking for traps. He’d been here before — twice now — but still moved as if each corner needed clearing.

She told herself that was just the Hokage in him. Not… anything else.

And yet, as she closed the door behind them, she couldn’t shake the thought that for all the storms between their villages, some things felt dangerously easy.

______

The apartment was quiet when they returned, the kind of quiet that felt earned after a night like this. The rain outside had thinned to a faint patter, barely audible over the hiss of water heating on the small stove.

Naruto moved easily in the space, barefoot, still in that dress, her hair loosening from the style the Ame aide had given her. She poured them tea without asking, and he took the cup without hesitation.

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she said finally, breaking the quiet. Her tone was softer than it had been at the party, and he knew she meant more than just the polite back-and-forth with their hosts.

“It wasn’t trouble.” His answer was simple, but then he remembered — and allowed himself the smallest curl of amusement. “Besides… you did promise me a reward.”

She looked at him over the rim of her cup. “You’re really holding on to that one, aren’t you?”

“I did my best tonight,” he replied, unbothered. “And you admitted it yourself.”

The pointed look she gave him could’ve passed for annoyance if not for the faint curve at the corner of her mouth. She set her cup down with a deliberate little click. “Fine. Name your prize, Hatake.”

She shifted to face him fully, tucking one leg beneath her. The motion pulled the hem of the dress higher — just a little — but enough to expose the smooth line of her thigh in the soft lamplight. It wasn’t calculated. He knew Naruto well enough to be sure of that.

Still, it landed like a hook in his chest.

He’d seen her win battles, command a room, bend politics to her will — but this was different. Dressed for diplomacy, softened by tea and rain and the quiet of the night, she was… entirely something else.

And entirely his, at least in the way the world saw it.

He let his gaze linger a fraction too long before dragging it back up to meet her eyes. Words were there — a dozen possible responses — but none of them made it past his tongue.

Because if she’d unraveled him with a whisper in front of that merchant’s heir, here, alone, with no one watching… she might undo him completely.

And Kami help him, he was already hers.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

The Weight of Names

The tea had cooled between them, forgotten.

Naruto sat across the couch, one knee drawn up, the hem of her dress inching higher with every small shift. Her hair—still faintly scented of rain and light perfume—curled loose against her shoulders. Lamplight picked out the slope of her collarbone, the faint sheen at her lips.

Kakashi kept his gaze on her eyes. And she held it—steady, unblinking—like she knew he was turning something over.

He was. Every possible scenario. The ones he should take. The ones he wanted to take. The clean line they’d been walking since this started… and the pull to step over it.

A dangerous current, and he’d been letting himself drift all night.

He leaned back with a quiet groan. “I maybe should go…”

Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe disappointment—but it was gone in a blink. “…Hmm. You haven’t told me what you want yet.”

“Yeah… maybe some other time.” Even tone; not an even weight. “Didn’t want to waste it yet.”

Her lips twitched. “What—I was prepared to let you get away with anything. Are you sure? Now’s the time, Hatake.”

The corner of his mouth curved despite himself. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, rougher than intended. He set his cup aside and shifted forward, half-prepared to stand, to put distance between them.

Her hand caught his wrist.

Not pulling—just holding.

He stilled. Warm. Sure. When he looked back at her, color touched her cheeks. Before he could read too far into it, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his temple.

Soft. Measured.

“Later then,” she murmured.

It sank deeper than it should have. Later then. He didn’t know if she meant what he did—but he wasn’t letting the thread drop.

“I’ll hold you to that. Just so you know.”

She smiled like she’d expected that answer. “You can start writing a checklist at this point.”

“I will definitely do exactly that.”

Her fingers slid from his wrist, nudging him toward the edge of the couch. “…Now go, before I make you stay.”

He snorted, low. “You’re a player, Naruto.”

“Who’s still playing?” she countered.

His chuckle was quiet. “I wonder the same.”

Her chin tipped toward the door. “Go, if you’re not staying for the night.”

He lingered a second too long, then pushed to his feet. “…Good night.”

“See you tomorrow before you leave,” she said.

And tomorrow was enough to put a smile on his face all the way to the door.

Naruto stood in the doorway long after they’d gone. Yamato and Sai were already trading easy chatter down the slick street, steps sure on rain-damp stone. Kakashi walked a pace behind, hands in his pockets, head tipped slightly toward their voices.

He didn’t look back; he never did when he left. Still, she watched the slope of his shoulders, the easy line of his gait, the faint sway of his flak vest. The same things she’d seen a thousand times—and this morning, they tugged at her in a way she didn’t want to examine.

Because she already missed him.

Ridiculous. He’d only been here a handful of days, and yet… last night she’d been a breath from telling him to stay. From finding an urgent reason to keep him until morning. From deciding that whatever this was between them didn’t need to wait.

Dangerously close, kit, Kurama rumbled, amused. You almost had him right where you wanted him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered.

The fox’s chuckle was low and knowing. Oh, you do. And so does he.

Heat climbed her cheeks—not embarrassment; the memory of his fingers brushing hers on the couch, of his voice low and steady like he was keeping both of them grounded. Of the weight in his gaze when she’d told him later then.

She drew a breath, stepped back inside, and slid the door shut. Quiet settled in, heavier than rain.

Maybe she didn’t know exactly what last night meant. Maybe she didn’t want to name it yet.

But one thing was certain—“later” suddenly felt far away.

The pile of reports on Kakashi’s desk shrank at a respectable pace, but a pattern had emerged: three completed documents, a pause; two signed scrolls, another pause; an order drafted, then the faint creak of his chair as he glanced out the office windows.

Not that the view was inspiring—rooftops, market street, the far shimmer of training fields—but habit had formed. Every so often, without meaning to, his gaze drifted there. As if expecting… something.

Or someone.

Yesterday Tsunade had passed through on her way to records, taken one look at him, and smirked. “You look like a lovesick puppy,” she’d said.

He hadn’t bothered to deny it.

Shikamaru leaned in the doorway now, blinking slowly, already having him pegged. “You know,” he started lazily, “you might not have to mope much longer.”

Kakashi looked up from a scroll he’d only been pretending to read. “Oh?”

“The Kage Summit’s in two weeks. Naruto’s due back before then. Probably sooner. She’s not the type to cut it close.”

His pause was telling. “…Hm.”

But the faint lift at the corner of his mask, the almost imperceptible easing of his shoulders—those gave him away completely.

“Thought so,” Shikamaru muttered, pushing off the frame.

When the door clicked shut, Kakashi let himself glance at the window once more. For the first time all week, the waiting didn’t feel so endless.

The council chamber was too warm, the air thick with paper and ink. Kakashi sat at the head of the table, hands folded loosely, listening as the third complaint about his “excessive” aid shipments to Amegakure wound down.

“…these are resources that could be redirected to our own people,” one councilor finished, voice edging reproach.

Before Kakashi could answer, Shikamaru leaned forward, tone mild but cutting.

“With respect, every shipment’s been accounted for. And, in case it slipped your notice, Ame’s recovery has already opened new trade channels. Their suppliers cut prices for Konoha, our smaller villages are piggybacking their routes, and—the small detail—the other nations have started mirroring our arrangement. Everyone profits. No casualties. That’s what we call efficient.”

Reluctant nods rippled.

An older member cleared his throat. “Be that as it may… there’s the matter of Uzumaki-san herself. She is from Konoha, is she not? Should she not reside here permanently?”

“And the wedding,” another chimed in. “When is it to be held? A family now would—”

“Family?” Kakashi raised a brow.

“Yes, she’s of age, isn’t she? A prospect of children would benef—”

“If we have children,” Kakashi said, voice so soft it seemed courteous, “they will not be used for politics.”

Polite. Devastating. The words landed like a blade driven clean into the table.

His gaze swept the room, steady and unblinking, until the rustle of papers stilled.

“They won’t be bargaining chips,” he continued, calm somehow heavier than any raised voice. “And they won’t be currency for anyone’s alliances—here or elsewhere.”

Silence locked in. Even the pens stopped.

Kakashi leaned back, the mask doing nothing to soften the weight of his stare. “If there’s nothing else on the matter, we’ll move on.”

And they did—because no one wanted to test where that line was drawn.

He told himself he’d stopped by the academy to check new instructors and training schedules. Even he knew the excuse was thin.

Truth was, the council’s words had stuck.

They’d always seen Naruto as an asset—political, military, symbolic. A powerhouse who could sway alliances by showing up. But marriage? Children? With Kakashi in the equation, their calculus had shifted. She wasn’t just the hero of the war; she was a woman they deemed ready for a family. In their eyes, that meant opportunity. Another thread to pull.

He could see it too clearly: whispers, backroom “proposals” with demands wearing polite clothes, their names turned into bargaining chips. Any child—real or hypothetical—viewed as currency.

That thought sat heavy. Because even if this arrangement was pretend, that part would never be.

Laughter spilled from a classroom—shrill, unguarded. Students huddled over a desk, arguing in the fierce but fleeting way of kids, faces bright with energy that filled a room.

He lingered, watching.

If it ever came to that—if he and Naruto had children—he’d make damn sure they were out of reach. Away from backroom deals and careful phrasing.

Somewhere quieter. Somewhere far enough from Konoha’s chamber that their names wouldn’t be inked into treaties before they could walk.

An image rose unbidden: a small house in a village where rain never stopped. Naruto outside, head tipped back, smiling into the downpour—because she’d never learned to see rain as anything but a gift. She looked better under rain. More alive.

Lately the image had grown steady. Less a passing thought, more… something to keep.

The Hokage’s office had become a fortress of parchment. Stamped scrolls, trade briefs, security drafts—stacked like uneven battlements on every surface. Somewhere in the mess, Yamato worked through logistics while Shikamaru flipped the diplomatic itinerary with a sigh that sounded personal.

“Security clearance for every retainer and aide?” Yamato asked, skimming the roster.

Kakashi nodded, dipping his brush to sign another order. “We need people who can handle themselves outside their specialty. Land of Iron doesn’t tolerate… surprises.”

Shikamaru raised a brow. “So, me, Yamato… and Sai?”

“He blends well,” Kakashi said. “And if someone pokes holes in our intel, he’ll stitch them shut before I hear about it.”

Yamato slid a folder across the desk. “Travel schedule from the Land of Iron envoy. You’re expected three days before the Summit. That gives us two days to sweep for risks.”

Shikamaru leaned a hip against the desk, flipping to the last page. “Note from Amegakure’s liaison… says Uzumaki sent word. She’ll meet us en route.”

Kakashi’s brush stilled.

Less than half a second—but with these two, it might as well have been a confession. He set the brush back, reached for the next scroll, posture unchanged, voice even.

“Then we’ll make room in the convoy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yamato’s mouth quirked. Shikamaru’s gaze weighed him like a battlefield map.

“I’m confused,” Shikamaru said finally, maddeningly flat. “Are we still acting?”

Kakashi didn’t rise to it. He sealed the scroll with care, handed it off. “Pack warm gear. It’s a long trip.”

His hand lingered a fraction too long on the paper. When he glanced at the window, the faintest lift of his brow betrayed him.

The training field rang with shouts and the clatter of wood on steel. Lee barked instructions; students stumbled through drills that raised dust in the humid air. From the veranda’s shade, Gai leaned forward in his chair, arms braced as if he might launch himself into the field.

“You see that, Kakashi? The fire of youth burns bright!” he boomed, nodding at a girl who finally landed three clean strikes.

Kakashi stood beside him, one hand in his pocket, the other on the railing. “Mm.” His eye tracked the movements without much focus. “Fire, smoke… still a long way from not setting themselves on fire.”

Gai chuckled; his smile thinned. “You’re quieter than usual.”

Kakashi let the south wind’s damp edge fill a beat. “Summit’s tomorrow. Naruto will be there.”

“Ah.” Weight in a single syllable. Gai looked back to the field, eyes flicking over. “So that’s why you came. Not for Lee’s eternal flame, but because your own flame is… shifting.”

Kakashi almost smiled. “My flame?”

“Don’t play coy with me, old rival.” Gai’s grin returned, not quite to his eyes. “This engagement charade—something’s different. About it. About you.”

Kakashi tipped his head, watching a shuriken thunk off-center. “…Maybe.”

Gai studied him with the clarity that only decades of rivalry earned. “Then tell me: what happens when the pretense stops being pretense?”

Silence drew out. “Needs work,” Kakashi murmured—to the student’s throw, to himself.

Gai’s smirk deepened. “You haven’t denied it.”

Kakashi exhaled, shifting against the railing. “Some things… don’t need denying.”

The words hung, quiet and heavy. Even Gai didn’t fill the space.

“Then I’ll say this,” Gai said at last, unusually steady. “When it stops feeling like a game, you’d better be ready for the truth that follows.”

Kakashi’s gaze drifted to the horizon, where late light faded into rainclouds. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m starting to think I already am.”

The convoy pulled off the main road into a narrow clearing, just wide enough for the carriages to wheel in without clipping trees. Early spring air was cool here, pine damp and clean as horses shifted and snorted, grateful for the pause.

Kakashi dismounted in one smooth motion, reins in hand, scanning the perimeter out of habit. Behind him the tarpaulin on the supply carriage glistened from a steady drizzle.

Shikamaru slid off his horse with a mutter about wet saddles. Yamato gave quiet orders to the rear guard. Sai tied his mount to a low branch with practiced economy.

No one missed that Kakashi was unusually silent.

He stood near the clearing’s edge, one hand loose on the bridle, gaze turned toward the mist-veiled road ahead. Not tense—just still. The way his eyes tracked distance, as if expecting it to deliver a certain figure.

Shikamaru exchanged a look with Yamato, who only arched a brow. Sai—ever direct—stepped closer.

“You’re quiet, Hokage-sama,” he said blandly. “Usually that means you’re calculating enemy positions… or waiting for someone.”

Kakashi rubbed a thumb against smooth leather. “Just thinking.”

“About Amegakure?” Yamato asked lightly.

“About the Land of Iron,” Kakashi corrected. The faint curl of his mouth betrayed him.

Rain hissed through the pines; harness buckles chimed, hooves thudded, packs dropped. His men could read him like a mission scroll.

Shikamaru leaned against a tree, smirking. “Funny. You’re looking at the road like it’s going to deliver more than the summit.”

Kakashi adjusted his mask, gave the order to mount, and swung into the saddle—because the sooner they moved, the sooner a road might bring what he was waiting for.

The last night before the Land of Iron found the convoy camped in a sheltered glade off the trade road. Pines crowded close, their dark needles breaking the worst of the wind; woodsmoke curled into a starless sky.

Kakashi sat at the edge of the firelight, tea cupped loosely in his hands. Beyond the circle, horses settled, tack creaking.

Yamato had the evening watch schedule. Shikamaru was half-sprawled on his bedroll, one eye open. Sai sat cross-legged across the flames, sketching in a small notebook.

“Still no sign of her,” Shikamaru said lazily, gaze flicking over without lifting his head.

Kakashi didn’t look up. “Not expecting her tonight.”

“Mm,” Shikamaru hummed, unconvinced. “You’ve been watching the road since we left Konoha.”

Sai didn’t glance up. “If this is your reaction without her, Hokage-sama, I’m curious what you’ll be like when she arrives.”

Yamato strolled back in time to hear that, brow arched. “Worse. Trust me.”

Kakashi snorted, faint. He’d expected to see her days ago. Missions happened. Detours, too. Still, a small part of him had counted on her beating them to the border.

The fire popped, sparks rising.

“If she doesn’t show by tomorrow night,” Shikamaru drawled, “you’ll have to survive the summit without your… diplomatic asset.”

Kakashi tipped his tea back, eyes hooded over the rim. “I’ll manage.”

But his gaze lingered a fraction too long on the shadowed path beyond the firelight.

When the camp quieted to wind in the pines, Kakashi stayed where he was, elbows on his knees, cup cooling between his hands.

He told himself he was keeping first watch. That was why he hadn’t rolled into his bedroll. Still, his eyes kept sliding toward the dark road, tracing its curve into the trees.

Stupid, really—expecting her to stride in at the last minute, grinning like she’d meant to make him wait. Naruto didn’t play those games. And still he sat here as if he could will her out of the night.

A week without her shouldn’t feel like this. He’d gone months before—during wars, on long missions—and it hadn’t crawled under his skin like this. Maybe it was the aftertaste of Ame: rain slicking her hair to her jaw, droplets tracking her throat, the heat of her in that cramped side room, close enough to stumble his pulse.

Naruto in rain wasn’t just an image—it was an imprint. Steady, enduring, beautiful in a way he didn’t dare name. She’d looked up at him then, eyes sharp and mouth soft, and something in him had shifted.

The moment replayed without mercy. Rain on her lashes. Damp in her breath between them. The urge—against judgment—to close the space.

He exhaled through the mask and tipped his head back. No stars.

A twig snapped in the dark. His shoulders straightened before he could stop himself, gaze locking on the road—only shadows moving.

Ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

He rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself against the pack. Tomorrow they’d reach the Land of Iron. If she wanted to meet them there, she would. If not…

He told himself it wouldn’t matter.

He knew he was lying.

He meant only to walk the perimeter. Stretch his legs, clear his head, shake off the anticipation clawing his chest. Snow crunched soft under his boots; the cold bit sharp enough to keep him honest.

Then—movement.

At first, just a blur through the pale drift. The wind shifted, and he saw her.

Naruto.

Pink-cheeked from the cold, hair wild in the winter wind. Ends damp with melting flakes, clinging to her cheeks and jaw. Cloak dusted white, boots carrying days of road. She looked like someone who’d traveled hard and fast without rest.

But her eyes—bright and sharp—found him, and her mouth curved into a smile so clean it cut the cold.

She was in front of him.

Finally.

He didn’t move, just took her in, every detail slotting into place against the image that had haunted him for days. Not rain-slicked now—winter sharpened her colors, made her presence warmer.

“Hey,” she breathed, her voice catching on the air between them.

“Hey,” he answered, softer than he meant.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to tell her she looked like hell and he was glad for it, because it meant she was here. Wanted to ask if she’d eaten, if she’d slept. Wanted—

He let the relief sit in his chest, steady and unshakable, while the snow kept falling.

She was still smiling when he closed the distance, though the wind tried its best to chase it off her face. Snowflakes caught in her hair, settling against the faint flush in her cheeks.

Kakashi reached for her hood without thinking, tugging it higher and snug around her face. “You do remember this country’s colder than Ame, right?”

Her smile only deepened as she stood there, letting him fuss. “You always this touchy when I’m late?”

“You were supposed to meet us two days ago.”

“You were supposed to have more patience,” she shot back.

“That’s asking a lot.”

The rhythm came easy, as it always did, the cold fading in its wake.

And then—without warning—Naruto stepped in.

Her forehead rested against his chest, breath warm even through the layers between them. “It’s the toughest week,” she mumbled.

For a second, he froze—then let the weight of her sink in. He didn’t know if she meant hers, his, or both, but maybe it didn’t matter.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly, the word settling between them like it belonged there.

She shifted so her cheek pressed against him, voice muffled but steady. “I hope you suffered as much as I do.”

Heat flickered in his chest, sharp against the cold. “Oh? Did you miss me after all?”

Her grin widened but she didn’t answer—she didn’t have to.

“Do you need a hug, then?” he asked, softer now. “Might help.”

For a fraction of a second, surprise flashed across her face—then she stepped in fully, arms looping around his shoulders, pressing close.

The sudden rush of her warmth chased off the winter bite. Her sigh brushed the side of his neck like she’d just found the one place she’d been searching for.

Kakashi—who’d built a career on anticipating her—still found himself caught off guard. But his arms came up anyway, certain, steady. And if he’d meant to keep it light, the way she stayed in his hold made that impossible.

Her weight against him wasn’t the reckless tackle of a genin, or the half-distracted camaraderie of old. This was different. Intentional. The quiet kind of belonging that didn’t need words.

And maybe that was what undid him most—how natural it felt to keep her there.

When she finally murmured against his shoulder, “…your hugs are the best,” it almost made him laugh. But he didn’t joke, didn’t tease.

He only held her closer, snow settling quiet around them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Circle in the Snow

The wind cut sharper in the Iron Country, the snow crunching under their boots as the convoy crossed the last stretch to the walled compound. Lanterns burned low along the gate, their light glinting off polished armor as the samurai stood in formation. The air smelled faintly of steel and pine.

Mifune was waiting at the front, posture precise but expression open. The moment Naruto stepped into view, the line of his mouth shifted into something warmer, the formal gravity giving way to familiarity.

“Uzumaki-dono,” he greeted, inclining his head. “It’s been too long.”

Naruto’s answering smile was unguarded, the kind that could cut straight through the cold. “Good to see you again, Mifune.”

Kakashi caught the subtle ease between them, but he didn’t have to guess at the cause. He’d known her long enough to recognize the trail of impressions she left behind—quiet gestures that reached farther than most ever realized. Naruto had been here before, under no official order, making the kind of visit that bound people together without any treaties or political theater.

Just like her unrecorded trips to Ame, slipping in aid and resources without waiting for permission. She never broadcasted it. Never asked for credit. But villages remembered. Leaders remembered. This was just another ripple from those choices.

“Your journey was safe, I trust?” Mifune asked, glancing briefly at Kakashi before returning to Naruto.

“It was,” Naruto said easily. “Cold, but I’ve had worse.”

Kakashi walked half a step behind her, his own nod to Mifune polite, measured—the diplomat’s mask in place. But his attention lingered on the way she moved in this space, not like an outsider, but like someone already woven into the fabric here.

If the others in their party noticed the warmer welcome, they didn’t comment on it. But Kakashi filed it away in that quiet corner of his mind reserved for the things he already knew about her—and the things he’d learned simply by watching.

-

The hallways inside the Iron Country compound were warmer than the air outside, the faint scent of cedar and oil lamps seeping into the quiet. Their guide—a samurai in full armor—moved ahead with the steady, deliberate pace of someone used to discipline in every step.

He stopped at the end of a long corridor and slid the door open, stepping aside to let them in.

The heat hit first, a comfortable wave from the small brazier set in the corner. The room itself was simple but spacious, the polished wood floor gleaming in the low light. A single, large futon was set out in the middle, layered thick with quilts.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

“The Summit begins at 3 p.m.,” the samurai said, tone clipped but courteous. “You should rest before then. If you need anything, a guard will be stationed outside.”

They both nodded, and with a bow, the samurai slid the door shut behind him. Silence settled in, broken only by the muffled hiss of snow sliding from the eaves outside.

Naruto looked at the bed. Then at Kakashi.

Kakashi’s gaze flicked from the bed to her, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Right. The… arrangement.”

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling through her nose. “Guess lovers would be sharing a room.”

The corner of his eye curved faintly. “One bed, even.”

Her lips twitched. “Efficient.”

He hummed, that half-amused, half-resigned sound he made when she’d backed him into a situation they couldn’t talk their way out of. They both knew the truth of it—they’d set this up themselves, knowing full well the kind of assumptions it would invite. It had been easier to think about when it was all politics and appearances.

Now there was just the bed, the warmth of the room, and the fact that no one here would think twice about it.

Naruto blew out another breath and shrugged. “Could be worse.”

Kakashi’s brow arched slightly, his voice low. “Could it?”

Naruto’s smirked and it faded into something quieter, her gaze skimming the room once more before landing on him again.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The warmth from the brazier seeped into the space between them, but it wasn’t enough to explain the heat crawling up the back of Kakashi’s neck.

She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing something in her mind. Then she stepped past him toward the screen in the corner. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she said casually, already unfastening her cloak.

Kakashi blinked once. “...Right.”

The screen slid shut behind her, and a few seconds later, the sound of water hitting tile broke the quiet. Steady, unhurried.

He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like it might knock some sense into him. Of course she’d say it like that. Of course she’d say it like nothing.

He sat down at the low table, pulling a well-worn Icha Icha from his pouch more out of habit than interest. His thumb rested on the corner of the page, but the words blurred the second he glanced toward the screen again.

The water kept running.

He flipped a page without reading it.

The water kept running.

By the time he realized he’d been staring at the same line for what had to be three minutes, he gave up the pretense entirely and set the book down. Leaning back, he exhaled through his nose, the faintest chuckle escaping despite himself.

Not even Jiraiya’s finest was going to save him now.

The water kept running.

It was a steady, almost rhythmic sound, and if he let his guard down for even a second, it was too easy to imagine— He shut that thought down immediately.

Kakashi leaned back, stretching his legs under the table as though comfort was something he could force. His gaze slid to the bed in the corner. One bed. Big enough for two. And that was fine—logical, even—given the story they’d built.

Didn’t mean he had to picture it.

The water stopped.

He looked away from the screen like it was hot to the touch, snatching his book up again in a last-ditch attempt at distraction.

The door to the washroom slid open.

Naruto stepped out barefoot, steam curling in the air behind her, hair damp and clinging in unruly strands to the sides of her face. The towel slung around her shoulders was already loosening as she crossed the room, her movements unhurried, entirely unaware—or worse, entirely aware—of how she looked right now.

She caught him looking. Of course she did.

“You’re still reading?” she asked, that familiar grin tugging at her mouth.

Kakashi glanced down at the open page and realized, with no small amount of resignation, that the book was upside down. “…Apparently not.”

Her grin widened, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she dropped onto the cushion across from him, still close enough that the faint scent of her shampoo—something citrus, something clean—slipped under his guard.

She reached for the teapot. “Want some?”

He hummed in agreement, watching as she poured. The sleeves of her loose shirt slid back just enough to reveal the damp curve of her wrist, the droplets of water still tracking over her skin. It was ridiculous, he thought, how much weight a moment could hold when it came wrapped in something so simple.

She set the cup in front of him, eyes catching his over the rim for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Kakashi had the sudden, irrational thought that maybe the summit tomorrow was the less dangerous part of this trip.

-

The long corridor outside the summit chamber smelled faintly of pine and snowmelt, the kind of clean cold that clung to steel walls. Footsteps echoed in pairs—hers light and steady, his measured enough to sound unhurried, but not one pace behind.

The samurai at the door straightened immediately, announcing their arrival with a deep bow. Heads turned inside.

Naruto stepped in first, the warmth of her presence at odds with the frost in the air. Kakashi followed half a step behind, a loose elegance in his posture that said he’d walked into far more dangerous rooms and come out just fine. Together, they filled the space—not with noise, but with the kind of attention no one had to ask for.

Gaara’s eyes found Naruto almost immediately. There was no hesitation in his approach, no formality—just that faint lift at the corner of his mouth that was reserved for her. “Naruto,” he said, and though it was barely above even, it carried a softness rare for the Kazekage.

She returned it with the same quiet warmth, a flicker in her expression that made Kakashi wonder how many unspoken histories lived between those two desert years. He knew about the battles, the alliances. But moments like this reminded him that there were parts of her story he’d never been there for.

Still, when her gaze slid back to him, the curve of her smile shifted—smaller, but no less bright. His hand brushed the small of her back in passing, a touch so brief it could have been accidental, but one the room didn’t miss.

Mifune cleared his throat, drawing the gathered leaders to order. “Shall we begin?”

The low, deliberate clang of the meeting gong faded into the stillness of the summit hall. A circle of low tables spread across the polished wood floor, each bearing the insignia of its respective village.

Naruto and Kakashi settled into Konoha’s place, the Hokage’s crest set alongside the smaller Ame emblem—an addition that had already drawn more than a few side glances.

Mifune stood at the center. “Thank you all for making the journey. There is much to address—border stability, the winter supply routes, and recent shifts in trade agreements between the great nations.” His gaze flickered—brief, but pointed—to the smaller Ame crest before continuing. “I trust you will all speak with candor, as always.”

Tsuchikage Kurotsuchi was the first to lean forward. “I’ll be direct. Ame’s sudden influx of goods and the lowered trade prices are admirable—if they’re sustainable. But most of those suppliers now operate under Konoha’s watch. This looks less like aid and more like consolidation.”

Kakashi’s voice was mild, but steady. “Sustainability was the point. The agreement allows Ame to stand on its own feet while maintaining open exchange with all major nations. The drop in prices benefits not only Konoha, but anyone who trades through Ame’s network.”

The Raikage gave a short, unimpressed grunt. “Until that network answers to Konoha first.”

Before Kakashi could respond, Naruto spoke—her tone light, but the words deliberate. “I’ve walked Ame’s streets. I know what it’s like to see a market half empty and children staring at bread they can’t afford. If we’re going to question the intent of aid, we should also question the intent of withholding it. The lowered prices aren’t charity—they’re a choice to make stability easier for everyone.”

There was a pause. Even Gaara tilted his head slightly, eyes on her.

Kurotsuchi exhaled through her nose, not quite a laugh. “You talk like someone who’s already decided Ame’s fate.”

“Not their fate,” Naruto countered. “Their chance.”

Gaara’s voice came next, measured but certain. “Sand’s winter supply lines now pass through Ame. It’s cut our travel time to Konoha’s border by nearly a third. That’s a change worth keeping.”

Kakashi let the brief silence that followed stretch just long enough before adding, “It seems we’ve found common ground already.” His gaze moved across the circle, unreadable behind the mask. “That’s worth more than most of us admit.”

Mifune nodded once. “Then let us record this as a point of agreement before we move to the next order of business.”

---

Snow had been falling since morning, frosting the black eaves of the hall and throwing pale light across the long table where the five Kage sat. Tea steamed quietly between them, the scent of roasted leaves almost lost under the weight of parchment and ink. In the corner, the minute-takers had stopped hiding their fatigue hours ago, their wrists already aching from the day’s pace.

Naruto’s hands rested lightly on the polished wood as she spoke, her voice steady and clear. This wasn’t a plea and it wasn’t charity—it was the kind of offer that came with its own backbone. She painted the picture cleanly: Ame’s units already aiding relief crews on Konoha’s borders, the potential to make it official. Joint training across all nations. Disaster response. Border patrol. Reconnaissance. Sharing weaknesses so they could learn each other’s strengths.

Across from her, the Raikage’s shoulders shifted with a grunt. “Or you learn the inner workings of our defenses and pass them on to the next lot who put on Ame’s headbands and call themselves an army.”

Naruto didn’t so much as blink. “That’s an old ghost, Lord Raikage. I understand the suspicion—but this time there’s full transparency. Neutral mediators already have access to Ame’s barracks, patrols, and drills. The framework’s there.”

Gaara’s voice followed, calm and precise. “I was in Ame last week. Their border units ran joint exercises with Suna’s patrols, and the coordination was exact. Their medics evacuated casualties faster than mine.”

Kakashi kept his gaze on the center of the table, though last week caught against his thoughts like a burr. A week ago, he’d been watching snow drift past Konoha’s windows, thinking about her. And Gaara had been there.

The Tsuchikage’s mutter was low but carried. “Efficient or not, my shinobi won’t set foot in Ame without oversight. If this goes forward, there’ll be rotational schedules and written reports every step of the way.”

“Same here,” the Raikage added, his gaze narrowing to a point.

Kakashi leaned forward at last, folding his hands loosely. “Then we start small. A pilot program. Limited teams, fixed rotations. If the benefits are real, they’ll stand on their own merit. If not, we cut ties without loss.”

The room settled into a stretch of silence broken only by the faint hiss of the braziers. Then, one by one, reluctant nods. The Raikage’s first, the Tsuchikage’s after a grumble.

Naruto’s smile was small, but it reached her eyes. “Then we’ll have the first terms drafted before nightfall.”

Across from her, Gaara’s mouth curved in that rare, measured approval. It lingered just long enough for Kakashi to notice—and for Naruto to notice him noticing.

Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it didn’t.

Either way, Kakashi kept his face unreadable, though the faint pull in his shoulders stayed long after the topic shifted.

The summit chamber had emptied for the midday recess, the sharp clink of chairs and scroll cases fading into the muted hum of voices in the corridor. Outside, the Iron Country’s winter sun glared off the snow so brightly it seemed to bleach the air cold and thin.

Kakashi fell into step beside Naruto, hands deep in his pockets, the measured ease in his stride at odds with the way his gaze had been following her all morning. He’d been doing that too much lately—tracking the tilt of her head when she listened, the quick flick of her smile when Gaara spoke to her during breaks, the unguarded warmth in her laugh when something passed quietly between them.

He’d noticed that Gaara had positioned himself beside her in yesterday’s session. That Naruto didn’t seem to mind. That maybe she even welcomed it.

“You didn’t mention Gaara went to Ame last week,” he said, tone flat enough to pass for casual if you weren’t listening too closely.

Naruto glanced over, adjusting the fall of her cloak. “...Why would I?”

His gaze stayed forward, but the pause before his answer stretched long enough to catch the edge of her attention. “I’m just… curious.”

“Uh-huh.” She frowned slightly, like she was trying to piece together the angle. “You’ve never cared about my diplomacy runs before unless you needed to sign something. Or tell me not to blow something up.”

His mouth curved faintly under the mask, but it didn’t reach his eye. “Maybe I’ve started paying more attention.”

She tilted her head, suspicion tempered by amusement. “It was political stuff, ‘Kashi. You know—meetings, negotiations, tea I didn’t even like. Ame’s trying to rebuild, Gaara offered a new trade route. That’s all.”

“Mm.” The sound was quiet, but it carried the weight of someone still turning over details they hadn’t been given.

They reached the corner where the corridor split toward their assigned lodging. Naruto slowed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait. Are you… jealous?”

Kakashi met her look, unreadable, though the faint lift of his brow might’ve been a tell if she was in the mood to press. “I’m Hokage. It’s my job to keep track of alliances.”

“Right,” she said, a grin tugging at her mouth now. “Alliances.”

He walked on before she could push it further, but the echo of that grin followed him down the hall. And maybe she didn’t have to say it aloud—she’d noticed the way he’d asked. The way he’d been watching.

They hadn’t made it more than a dozen steps before a shadow slid across their path.

“Uzumaki.”

Gaara’s voice was as calm and clipped as always, but it still made Naruto turn toward him, her expression brightening with genuine warmth. “Gaara. You need something?”

Kakashi watched her shoulders soften the way they only did for a few people, and apparently, the Kazekage was one of them.

“I wanted to finish what we discussed yesterday,” Gaara said, stepping closer. “Before the next session. Your insight on—”

Kakashi’s hand was already moving, casual as anything, settling warm and steady at the small of Naruto’s back. The kind of touch that said mine without ever raising his voice. “We’re on recess,” he said mildly, “but if you need her, you can walk with us.”

Naruto’s eyes flicked up at him, a silent really?, but she didn’t move away.

Gaara’s gaze dropped—just briefly—to the point where Kakashi’s gloved hand rested against the folds of her cloak. Something unreadable passed over his face before he looked back at Naruto.

“I’ll be quick,” Gaara said.

Kakashi’s thumb brushed a slow, thoughtless arc against her spine. Not enough for anyone else to notice—except Naruto, whose breath caught for half a second before she masked it.

Gaara went on, outlining a point about supply chain adjustments and how Suna could expedite a segment of Ame’s imports through Wind territory. Naruto nodded along, her mind shifting back to business—but Kakashi didn’t miss how Gaara’s eyes kept straying, however briefly, to the two of them standing there like a unified front.

When Gaara finally wrapped up, Kakashi’s tone was still cordial. “Appreciate you looping her in directly. As her fiancé, I do like to know where her time’s going.”

A pause. Barely perceptible.

“I see,” Gaara said simply, though his eyes lingered on Kakashi for a beat longer than necessary before flicking back to Naruto. “I’ll bring the draft to you before the end of the day.”

“Sounds good,” Naruto replied.

Gaara inclined his head, then stepped away without another word.

Naruto turned to Kakashi the second he was out of earshot. “Fiancé?” she muttered, half a glare, half a smirk.

Kakashi’s eyes curved lazily. “We’re supposed to keep up appearances, aren’t we?”

“Mm-hm,” she said, though the way she didn’t actually step out of his reach suggested she wasn’t all that mad about it.

They made it halfway down the corridor before Naruto’s voice cut through the quiet, low enough for only him to hear.

“You do realize,” she said, “that you had your hand on my back the entire time Gaara was talking to me.”

Kakashi didn’t miss a step. “Did I?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned. “Pretty sure you were also doing that thumb thing.”

His brow lifted like he was considering the allegation. “Thumb thing?”

“That little circle. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Kakashi’s eyes curved. “Huh. Must’ve been subconscious.”

Naruto’s glare sharpened. “Subconscious, my ass. You were being territorial.”

“That so?” he asked, tone smooth enough to pass for genuine curiosity—if not for the faintest upward tilt to his voice that gave him away.

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You’re smug right now.”

“Am I?” He looked entirely unbothered, hands sliding casually into his pockets now that they’d reached the end of the hall. “I was just keeping up the illusion. You know—fiancé, devoted, protective…”

“…Possessive,” she finished for him.

His eyes curved again, not denying it for a second. “Only when necessary.”

Naruto huffed, shaking her head as they stepped back into the low hum of the Summit’s antechamber. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that only she could catch it, “you didn’t move away.”

Her breath hitched for a fraction before she smirked, shoving him lightly toward the meeting doors. “Get in there, Hatake, before I make you regret it.”

Kakashi went, his step just a little lighter than it had been all morning.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

In the Wake of Frost

By the third day, the novelty had worn thin.

The Land of Iron’s meeting hall was built for endurance—high ceilings that swallowed every voice, paper screens that tamed the winter wind, a circular arrangement that kept every Kage at equal distance, like points on a blade’s edge. It gave the illusion of balance, of civility.

But after hours of back-to-back discussions, patience had begun to fray in ways the architecture couldn’t fix.

They’d moved beyond targeted disputes—Amegakure’s future, post-war reconstruction clauses—and into the grinding issues that had been festering for years. Border patrol rotations. Missing-nin extradition policies. Shinobi license renewals. The kind of work that demanded more stamina than a battlefield and more restraint than an assassination mission.

Naruto sat in her allotted seat, back straight at first, then gradually melting into a lazy lean against the padded rest. Shikamaru, beside her, never looked up from the minutes he was scratching down, quill moving at an unhurried, lethal pace.

“This is going in the records exactly as it is,” he murmured. “Slouch and all.”

Her gaze flicked toward him. “You ever think the reason nothing changes is ‘cause we keep talking about the same things every year?”

“Every three years,” Gaara corrected, tone so even it was impossible to tell if he was being helpful or smug.

Darui gave a slow nod, fingers drumming once against the polished wood. “Feels like every week.”

From the head seat, Mifune cleared his throat—polite, but edged like a drawn blade. The sound drew every chin back toward the center. From her periphery, Naruto caught the faint lift of Kakashi’s brow: the same look he’d been giving her all week. Part warning, part amusement. The one that said behave without saying a word.

By the fourth day, the topic was trade tariffs—again—but the focus had shifted to disputes between smaller border villages and their governing nations. Mistrust piled on top of history, every phrase carrying the weight of an invisible blade.

By the fifth, the subject was environmental resource sharing—the forests in the Land of Earth, the mineral channels through the Land of Lightning, the rivers feeding the Land of Fire’s farms. Naruto spoke up then, measured and diplomatic, the kind of tone she’d honed in Ame when a wrong word could tip a room. Kakashi didn’t so much as tilt his head, but she felt his attention like a steady hand at her back.

When the minutes were read aloud, when Mifune called for recesses, they traded glances—the kind that counted hours together.

Three days to go. And Naruto, despite herself, was already wondering how many of them would feel like this.

By the sixth day, the snow outside felt like part of the council itself—silent, endless, unyielding.

The topics were no less relentless. Shinobi registration transparency. Reparations still disputed by villages whose scars hadn’t healed. Military training exchanges to “foster goodwill” without revealing too much of anyone’s hand.

Naruto kept her chin propped on her hand, fingers tapping her cheek. She’d long learned the trick of looking inattentive while catching every word—a skill born in Konoha’s council chambers when she’d rather be anywhere else.

By the seventh, the circles under people’s eyes told their own story. Even the most seasoned Kage were shifting in their seats, voices clipped. Mifune’s aides moved with the hushed precision of medics in an overrun hospital, sliding tea and warm cloths onto the table without breaking debate.

On the eighth morning, the final item—borderland medical aid allocations—was signed off with a unanimous nod.

Mifune straightened, posture still exact, and bowed. “And with this, the Twelfth Kage Summit concludes.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Naruto leaned back with a loud, heartfelt groan. “Finally,” she said, grin breaking wide.

A few aides blinked. Gaara’s brow lifted. Chōjūrō coughed into his fist. Even Darui cracked a smile. The tension bled off in chuckles around the table, and even Mifune’s eyes softened.

Kakashi didn’t laugh—exactly—but Naruto caught the tilt of his head and the faint crinkle at the corner of his eye.

And just like that, the Summit was over.

The heavy doors shut behind the last minute-keeper, and the air shifted tangibly. Shoulders uncoiled, chairs scraped back.

Darui was first to break the silence, folding his arms behind his head. “…I believe congratulations are in order?”

The effect was immediate. Every head turned toward Kakashi and Naruto, the collective weight of five Kage making the chamber feel smaller.

“Oh—” Naruto’s voice pitched up, hands half-raised like she could block the attention. The faint flush up her neck betrayed her more than anything. “…Thank you?”

It was all the invitation the others needed.

“I’ll admit,” Chōjūrō said earnestly, “when I heard the news, I thought—makes sense. Two of the strongest shinobi in one village? Unstoppable.”

“I thought Hatake Kakashi had no interest in becoming Hokage,” Kurotsuchi added, eyes glinting. “Didn’t know you’d take the hat just to impress your woman.”

Gaara’s low rumble almost passed for a laugh. “Or to keep her from running off to other countries every week.”

“Exactly,” Darui said. “Strategic move.”

Kakashi sat back like he’d weathered worse storms, mask hiding most of his expression but eyes giving away quiet amusement. “Glad my career choices make sense to someone,” he said mildly—gaze sliding to Naruto, who was resolutely not looking at him.

“Don’t look at me,” she muttered, lips twitching despite herself.

“Too late,” he replied, pitched low enough that only she caught it.

The teasing rolled on: wedding size, how “Hatake-Uzumaki” had a ring to it. Naruto fielded it with sheepish smiles and half-deflections. Kakashi didn’t bother. Let them talk. It wasn’t the worst rumor he’d endured.

–

The low hum of the corridor outside barely reached the quiet of their room. Kakashi had been sitting on the edge of the bed, gloved fingers turning a scroll over and over without reading a single line, when he heard her curse softly under her breath.

He glanced up. Naruto stood near the mirror, wrestling with the high-collared formal jacket the samurai had laid out for her—more layered than her usual style, cut to flatter in a way that made his brain lag for half a second before catching up.

She tugged at the back of her collar, fingers straining. “Tch—of course this thing has a clasp right where I can’t reach.” She tried again, twisted at an awkward angle, then huffed out a laugh. “Hey. Hatake. Make yourself useful.”

He was up before he thought about it, crossing the space in three easy steps. “You know, most people ask nicely.”

“You know I'm not ‘most people,’” she said without looking at him, sweeping her hair forward over one shoulder to give him access.

The move revealed the smooth line of her neck, the subtle shift of her shoulder blades beneath the fitted fabric, and—mercifully or not—the gap where the jacket hadn’t quite fastened yet, showing the bare skin along the curve of her upper back. His hands stilled for a beat longer than they should have.

It’s just a clasp. You’ve done far more complicated missions blindfolded.

He reached for it anyway, fingers brushing her skin in the process. Warm. Too warm for how cold the country was. He swore he felt her shiver—just slightly—but didn’t dare look up to check.

“Your hands are cold,” she murmured.

“Occupational hazard,” he said, voice steady in a way his thoughts weren’t. The metal clicked into place, but he didn’t step back immediately.

Naruto turned her head just enough to catch his reflection over her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That so? You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

He finally stepped back, the distance feeling larger than it should. “I’m not sure what you’re implying,” he said, which was—on every level—a lie.

Her grin widened like she’d caught him red-handed. “Sure you don’t.”

Kakashi cleared his throat, gesturing toward the door. “We’ll be late.”

“We’ve got time,” she said, smoothing her jacket as if she hadn’t just rewired half his focus for the evening.

As they left, his hands stayed politely at his sides. His mind, however, was already bracing for the kind of night where he’d have to endure—again—the particular brand of torture that came with being her so-called fiancé.

------

By the time they stepped into the banquet hall, the heat hit her first—rich with the smell of roasted meat, faint spice, and the kind of sake meant to soften edges after days of tense talks. Gold and crimson banners hung high against dark timber beams, catching the warm light of lanterns swaying gently overhead.

Naruto barely had time to take in the scene before Kakashi’s hand slid to the small of her back. A light touch, guiding. Harmless enough to anyone else—but steady, warm, and very much there.

She tilted her head up at him. “You planning on keeping that hand there all night?” she murmured.

“Depends,” he said without looking down, his eyes scanning the room as if mapping the terrain. “Think you’ll wander off?”

She smirked. “Maybe.”

“Then yes.”

They moved through clusters of guests, nodding to aides, fielding congratulations about the summit’s close—and inevitably, the congratulations about the engagement. Naruto smiled, thanked, tried not to trip over the sheer absurdity of it all… and felt Kakashi’s palm shift fractionally lower every time someone leaned in a little too close to her.

Halfway through a polite exchange with the Mizukage, she caught sight of Gaara across the room. He was already heading their way, the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth passing for a smile.

“Kazekage,” she called warmly when he reached them.

“Uzumaki.” His gaze flicked briefly to Kakashi, then back to her. “We should—”

“She’s free after we get a drink,” Kakashi cut in smoothly, already steering her toward the table lined with tall bottles and polished cups.

Naruto blinked up at him. “Subtle,” she muttered under her breath.

“I thought so,” he replied, pouring sake with one hand, the other still at her back.

They eventually returned to Gaara, but Kakashi didn’t budge from her side. He stood close enough that the line of his arm brushed hers whenever she moved, his hand finding hers more than once under the pretext of shifting her cup or adjusting her sleeve. It was casual—always casual—but never distant.

Every time Gaara’s attention dipped to her, Kakashi’s presence pressed in just enough to remind her (and maybe Gaara, too) that she wasn’t exactly unaccompanied.

By the time the night began to mellow into soft music and easy laughter, Naruto had stopped trying to figure out whether he was playing the role of devoted fiancé or… something else entirely.

She just knew his hand was still at the small of her back, and that he hadn’t let anyone else stand this close to her all evening.

------

The cold hit like a sheet of glass when they stepped out of the hall, the heat and hum of the banquet cutting off behind them with the soft thud of the sliding doors. Lanternlight bled across the snow, casting their shadows long over the path back to their quarters.

Naruto tugged her shawl higher, breath clouding in the air. “You were a bit much tonight, you know.”

Kakashi slid a glance her way, unbothered. “Was I?”

“You practically glued yourself to me.

“Only doing my part,” he said lightly. “Convincing performance, wasn’t it?”

She snorted. “More like territorial. Poor Gaara couldn’t get two sentences in.”

His visible eye curved faintly. “Mission accomplished, then.”

Naruto stopped, turning to face him fully. “You do realize we’re not actually—”

“Engaged?” He finished, the word mild, his gaze steady. “I’m aware.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “Right. Just checking.”

They started walking again, boots crunching over the thin crust of ice. After a beat, she added, “You were really holding on to the act.”

“You noticed?” His tone was almost teasing, but there was something else there—quiet and unreadable.

She gave him a sidelong look, lips twitching. “Hard not to, with your thumb doing little circles on my spine.”

“Ah, must be one of my signature habits,” he replied easily, eyes forward.

Naruto shook her head, but she couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at her mouth. She should’ve been used to his banter by now, but tonight, under the cold stars and that steady, maddening calm of his, it felt… different.

By the time they reached their door, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him to knock it off—or keep going until she figured out exactly what line they were dancing around.

---

The room was already warm when they stepped inside, the low amber glow from the hearth pushing back the Iron Country chill. They didn’t speak at first, falling into an unspoken rhythm—boots off near the door, cloaks shaken free of snow and hung neatly on the wall pegs.

Naruto slipped into the washroom first, the sound of running water carrying faintly into the main room. Kakashi busied himself with stacking his gear by the low table, unfastening the plates from his flak vest. By the time she emerged in a fresh shirt and soft drawstring pants, cheeks faintly pink from the steam, he was already stepping past her with his own towel in hand.

They brushed shoulders in the doorway, the exchange easy, practiced.

When Kakashi came back out, hair damp and falling more loosely than usual, Naruto was sitting cross-legged on the bed, pulling her hair into a loose tie. He set his mask aside and picked up the towel again, scrubbing absently at the back of his neck. She rose to join him at the vanity.

They brushed their teeth side by side, elbows nearly knocking as they leaned over the basin. Naruto flicked him a sideways glance in the mirror, toothbrush still in her mouth.

“I’ve seen you without the mask plenty of times,” she said, voice too casual for the pink creeping into her cheeks. She spat, rinsed, then added quickly, “Just never said you were… kind of handsome, that’s all.”

Kakashi set his cup down with deliberate care, eyes curving. “Kind of?”

Naruto groaned, nudging his arm with her elbow. “Don’t start. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Mm.” His tone was mild, but smugness threaded under it. “Funny way of saying nothing.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging at the towel. “You’re impossible.”

“Handsome and impossible,” he corrected, unruffled.

Her grin broke despite herself, and she shoved the towel into his chest before slipping past him.

By the time the last of the light had slipped from the windows, Kakashi had claimed the left side of the bed, one arm folded under his head. Naruto slid in beside him, her hair still carrying the faint scent of winter air and steam, warmth seeping quickly into the space between them.

The space between them was polite—but only just.

“You were quieter than I expected tonight,” she said, voice low in the dim.

He turned his head toward her. “And here I thought I was being plenty talkative.”

“Mm, only when you were keeping Gaara from getting within arm’s reach.” Her lips curved knowingly.

His eyes narrowed just a fraction, amused. “I did warn you about my convincing performances.”

Naruto huffed a laugh, rolling onto her side to face him. “You make it sound like you enjoyed it.”

Kakashi’s gaze held hers, unreadable but steady. “I wouldn’t say I didn’t.”

She raised a brow, but before she could press, he shifted the conversation. “You handled yourself well in there. The summit, the speeches, the posturing—it suits you more than you think.”

“Posturing’s not really my thing.”

“Maybe not,” he allowed, “but you make it work. You always have.”

Naruto studied him for a moment, the glow from the hearth pooling between them. “Guess I had a good partner for the act.”

“Guess you did,” he murmured.

For a while, they just listened to the faint crackle of the fire, neither in a rush to close their eyes. The day had been long, the summit longer, but here—in this quiet—they didn’t need the formality, or the act, or the layers of diplomacy between them.

Eventually, Naruto rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling beams. “Tomorrow’s our last day here.”

“Mm,” Kakashi replied, his gaze still resting on her a moment longer before following her up to the ceiling.

They didn’t say goodnight. The unspoken lingered between them, softer than the firelight, stubborn as the snow outside.

---

Kakashi woke before the sun.

The hearth had burned low during the night, leaving the room wrapped in the kind of cold that made the air feel sharp in his lungs. But the weight against his side was warm—too warm—and far more distracting than the chill.

Naruto had shifted sometime in the night. Again.

Seven nights in the Land of Iron, and he could already predict it: she’d roll over in her sleep, hunting down the closest source of heat with single-minded accuracy, and latch on like she’d never learned the meaning of personal space. And unfortunately for his peace of mind, that heat source was him.

The first night had been… an adjustment. He’d come awake to find her pressed against him, her forehead tucked into the crook of his shoulder, legs tangled with his under far too few layers for his sanity. Sleep had been out of the question after that; he’d lain there for hours, staring into the dark, trying not to notice the sound of her breathing or the way her hand had curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt.

The second night, he told himself it was just coincidence. That theory lasted until she did it again.

By the fourth night, he’d stopped pretending it was anything but a habit she’d never grown out of. Even as a genin, she’d found the nearest warm body after long missions and practically glued herself there until morning. Back then, it was harmless. Now… not so much.

What unsettled him most wasn’t the closeness itself, but the way his body had started to anticipate it. By the fifth night, he’d wake just enough to feel her shift and roll, arms already bracing to keep her from sliding too far. He’d settle her there without thinking, keeping her tucked in until her shoulders loosened and the tight line between her brows eased.

This morning was no different. Her arm was slung comfortably across his ribs, her knee hooked lazily over his thigh. The faint rhythm of her breathing matched the steady rise and fall of his chest, and he knew—knew—that if he looked down, she’d have that faint, peaceful slack to her expression she rarely wore awake.

The thing that got him was how easily she seemed to leave it behind. Every morning, without fail, she’d stir, blink up at him once in sleepy recognition, stretch like a cat, and then roll away as if waking up tangled around him was the most normal thing in the world. No hesitation. No awkwardness.

And every morning, he’d be left wondering which of them was playing the more dangerous game—her, for doing it without a second thought, or him, for letting her.

He exhaled slowly, careful not to disturb her just yet.

Seven nights, and he still hadn’t decided.

And that's exactly how she woke up today. No remorse, straight to the wash room.

When she came back out, cheeks faintly pink from steam and tugging her shirt straight, the low table already held a tray of rice porridge and hot tea.

Naruto blinked, then frowned lightly. “You went out?”

“Couldn’t have you traveling home on an empty stomach,” Kakashi said mildly, still toweling his hair. “Bad strategy.”

Her lips curved despite herself. She sat cross-legged, bowl in hand, and took a slow bite, warmth settling into her chest. He busied himself with his vest buckles and gear, giving her the illusion of privacy, though his eyes flicked toward her more than once.

By the time she set the empty bowl aside, he was already stepping past her into the washroom with his towel. When he came back, he was already dressed, fastening the last strap of his flak jacket with practiced ease.

“Ready?” he asked, voice as even as he could make it.

She nodded, fastening the final buckle on her jacket. “Almost. Just need to grab my gloves.”

He handed them over before she could reach for them, watching the way her fingers slipped into the worn leather. It was such a small thing, but for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely, it felt far too intimate after the last week.

Naruto flexed her hands, testing the fit, then gave him one of those easy, unguarded smiles. “Thanks. Guess I’m set.”

Kakashi adjusted his mask. “Good. Wouldn’t want you freezing to death before we make it home.”

“Pfft. Like you’d let me.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she stepped toward the door, light and certain in a way that made something in his chest tighten.

He followed, pulling the door shut behind them, the cool bite of morning air breaking whatever fragile warmth had been left in the room.

Seven nights, and she’d left him with nothing but the scent of her hair in his scarf, the ghost of her weight in his arms, and the steady, gnawing knowledge that she’d go on thinking it was all just… normal.

For her, maybe it was.

For him, it was a problem with a heartbeat.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Strung Between

The gates of Konoha came into view under the cover of night, lantern light catching on the last traces of snow clinging to their cloaks. The journey back from the Land of Iron had been long enough that their steps were measured less by distance and more by the steady, shared rhythm they’d fallen into.

The streets were quiet by the time they crossed into the village proper, their boots crunching over frost as the convoy gradually broke apart. One by one, the others peeled away toward their own homes until it was just the two of them heading down the familiar road to Kakashi’s.

Inside, the house was warm, faintly scented with tea and paper. Naruto shrugged off her cloak like she lived here, toeing off her boots like she had a claim on the entryway. Kakashi didn’t comment—by now, her things were as much a part of this space as his own. Her toothbrush was still in the bathroom from the last time she stayed. A folded stack of her clothes sat in the dresser, ready for nights like this when she didn’t feel like going home.

“You can take the spare room,” Kakashi said, nodding down the hall as he set his gloves on the table.

“Mm.” She hummed in acknowledgment, already making her way toward the washroom with her overnight clothes in hand.

He took his own turn in the bathroom afterward, steam curling out into the hallway as he stepped into the bedroom—only to stop short.

She wasn’t in the spare room.

Naruto was curled on his bed instead, hair damp from her shower, dressed in loose sleep clothes she must have pulled from the dresser. The blanket was tugged high over her shoulders, her eyes half-lidded and lazy with the kind of exhaustion only a week-long diplomatic summit could bring.

Kakashi leaned against the doorframe for a moment longer than he meant to, taking in the scene. He could have pointed her to the spare room. He didn't.

Instead, he crossed the room, sliding under the covers beside her.

When she shifted toward him in her sleep, seeking his warmth the same way she had every night in the Land of Iron, his arm found its place around her without hesitation. It wasn’t surprise anymore—it was muscle memory.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the spare room was still empty.

Tonight, it didn’t matter.

By the time morning came, she hadn’t moved.

If anything, she’d drawn even closer, one knee hooked against his leg, her forehead tucked into the hollow beneath his collarbone. Seven nights in Land of Iron had carved the habit into them so deep it felt less like chance and more like inevitability.

Her hair brushed against his jaw when she stirred, a faint, ticklish sweep that carried the clean scent of her shampoo—faintly citrus beneath the warmth of blankets.

“It’s still morning,” she murmured, voice rough from sleep, eyes barely cracking open before she burrowed in again.

“It’s also our day off,” Kakashi said, the low rumble of his voice caught between amusement and resignation.

A slow hum, content and stubborn at once. “Then we’re not moving.”

He didn’t argue.

The warmth between them seemed to grow heavier in the quiet, wrapping around his chest like another layer of blankets. Outside, the village was already stirring—distant footsteps on the street, the faint creak of shop shutters being opened—but none of it felt urgent enough to disturb this.

Naruto shifted again, not to get up but to get closer, her arm sliding more securely around his waist. “You’re warm,” she mumbled, as if it were a confession.

“Perks of being me,” he replied, the corner of his mouth tilting.

She huffed something that might’ve been a laugh, then pressed her cheek more firmly against him, eyes drifting shut again.

“You’re good at this,,” she said after a beat.

“At what?”

“Keeping me warm.  Being…” Her voice trailed off, searching for the word but not finding it. “…here. Staying.”

Something in his chest gave at that, but he kept it light. “Glad I meet your high standards.”

“Mm,” she murmured, already drifting. “Don’t get used to the praise, Hatake.”

But the way her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt betrayed her, holding on like she had no intention of letting go just yet.

Kakashi lay still, committing the weight and warmth of her to memory. Not because he thought it would vanish, but because part of him feared it might—and the rest of him wasn’t sure what he’d do if it didn’t.

Let the world knock. Let the day pass. For now, she was here. And for now, that was enough.

-

It was late morning by the time Naruto started shifting in his arms again. She’d already dozed off once more, warm and heavy against his chest, but now she kept fidgeting—rolling her shoulders, sliding her knee, pressing closer and then away, never still for more than a moment.

“...If you keep moving like that,” Kakashi muttered, his voice rougher than he meant it to be, “you’re going to regret it.”

Naruto huffed, muffled against his shirt. “I’m trying to find a comfortable spot.”

“You were doing just fine hours ago.” His tone sharpened when she wriggled again, like he was at his limit.

She stilled, blinking up at him, only to catch the look in his eyes—serious, warning. Her gaze flicked down instinctively, and when realization struck, her cheeks went hot.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose, as if he could will the tension away by force. “It’s morning. And you’re restless.”

Instead of retreating, she smirked, biting her lip. “Just will it down. I don’t want to get up yet.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“B-but I was enjoying—”

“Clearly.” His sigh was sharp, almost pained, and she laughed, unhelpfully.

“Well, I’m glad to know the Hokage’s very healthy.”

He fixed her with a look, half exasperation, half desperation. “Are you still not going?”

“I told you—just will it down.”

Kakashi groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Naruto. That’s not how this works.”

She only stared back, head tilted, like she truly didn’t understand—or maybe just liked watching him squirm. “Why not?”

“Because you’re still here.”

That made her pause. “Oh, is it me?”

“Why else?” His patience was thin, his voice low, frayed at the edges.

“You said it’s because it’s morning.”

“...Naruto.” He almost growled her name, the warning in it unmistakable now. His restraint was already strung tight, and she was testing every thread. “If you don’t want to leave, I can offer you something that isn't a snuggle.”

He meant it as a last-ditch line in the sand, an extreme warning meant to shock her into sense. But his pulse was a drum in his throat, and if she pushed even a fraction further—if she said the wrong word—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold.

Naruto looked at him quietly, the seriousness in his gaze sinking in. She could feel it—the ache, the weight of it, how hard he was fighting himself.

She let out a long breath, then, with a small chuckle, pressed her forehead to his chest. Finally, mercifully, she rolled away, slipping out of the cocoon of his warmth.

The sudden absence made Kakashi groan outright, every nerve in his body rebelling at the cold where she’d been.

“Fine,” she tossed over her shoulder, smug. “You win this time.”

“...Have I, really?” His voice was ragged.

She leaned back over the bed, grinning, and whispered against his ear, “Later.”

And before he could move, she was gone—skipping toward the door with that infuriating spring in her step.

Kakashi collapsed back against the mattress, dragging an arm over his eyes, cursing under his breath. His predicament only worsened by the second, her scent still clinging to him, the heat of her body branded against his skin.

He groaned again. Torture. Absolute torture.

----

Naruto closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a second, cheeks still warm. She hadn’t… meant to get that reaction out of him. At first, it really was just about trying to find a comfortable spot—she’d been half-asleep, chasing warmth like she always did.

But then Kakashi had gone all serious, that low warning in his voice, and suddenly she was wide awake.

She padded down the hall toward the kitchen, arms crossed, biting back the grin tugging at her mouth. She wasn’t clueless. She’d caught the heat in his eyes, the way his voice dropped, the tension in his body.

She just… hadn’t realized she could do that to him. Not Kakashi.

“Later,” she’d teased, and she could still hear the way his breath hitched at the word. She didn’t mean it as a promise—at least, not yet—but the way he looked at her, like one more push would break him…

Naruto rubbed the back of her neck, exhaling hard. “...Trouble,” she muttered to herself. “I’m in so much trouble.”

And maybe she was. But the thought didn’t make her stop smiling.

Naruto pressed her palms against the cool counter, trying to will the heat out of her face. She was still smiling like an idiot when a deep rumble echoed in her head.

“Hah. Finally caught on, did you?”

Her grin faltered. “...Shut up.”

Kurama’s chuckle was sharp, smug. “You roll all over him for a week straight, then act surprised when he reacts like a man? Tch. Kitsune instincts would’ve told you day one.”

Naruto groaned, burying her face in her arms. “It wasn’t like that—I was just sleeping!”

“Sleeping?” Kurama scoffed. “Sure. You call it sleeping. I call it testing how many pups he can handle.”

Her head snapped up, cheeks blazing. “Kurama!”

“What? I’m just being realistic. That man is wound so tight he’ll snap the second you give him permission. And when he does…” The fox let the thought dangle, purring like he was enjoying this far too much. “…I’d say five. Six pups, easy. You’re built for it.”

Naruto nearly choked on air. “I am not—stop—why are you like this?!”

“Optimistic,” Kurama said smoothly, absolutely unbothered. “Unlike you. You’re still pretending you don’t want to climb right back in bed with him.”

Her throat worked, but no words came out. Which was answer enough.

Kurama huffed, satisfied. “That’s what I thought. Don’t keep him waiting too long, kit. Man like that—once you let him close—he’s never letting go.”

Naruto slumped against the counter, groaning louder than ever, but her face betrayed her. Because even with Kurama’s savagery clawing at her nerves, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Naruto dragged both hands down her face, trying to shake the heat that Kurama’s voice — and Kakashi’s warning — had stirred up. No way she was letting herself spiral like that. She needed to cool off. Literally.

So she padded toward the bathroom, muttering, “Just a shower. That’s it. Nothing else.”

The water came on with a hiss, filling the quiet of the house.

Across the hall, Kakashi sat perfectly still on the edge of his bed, hands braced on his knees, staring at nothing. His breath dragged in low, sharp. Because the sound of the shower didn’t just make everything worse — it pressed him into a corner.

And Eventually, inevitability won out. He dealt with the problem quietly, more necessity than indulgence. A release, quick and muted, just enough to ease the sharp ache she’d left him with. When it was over, he exhaled raggedly, disgusted at how badly he needed that, at how easy she made him lose ground without even trying.

By the time Naruto stepped out of the bathroom, tugging fresh clothes over damp skin, Kakashi had forced himself to stillness again, leaning back against the headboard like he’d been waiting the whole time.

She didn’t notice the way his shoulders finally loosened. She was too busy deciding she owed him something back.

Make it up to him, she decided, heading straight for the kitchen.

She busied herself with eggs and rice, hands moving automatically. The rhythm steadied her nerves, but her thoughts still looped back to how warm his chest had felt against her cheek, how close she’d come to—

The shower turned on again.

Her hand tightened on the spatula. Of course he’d need one too. Of course.

By the time Kakashi emerged, hair damp, shirt clinging faintly where he’d pulled it over too soon, the table was set. Naruto looked up from her seat, caught halfway between pride and guilt.

“I… figured breakfast might make up for earlier,” she said, a little too quickly.

His eye crinkled, unreadable behind the mask, though his gaze lingered on her longer than it should have. “Generous of you,” he said, voice low, calm — though both of them knew the undercurrent was anything but.

They sat across from each other, the steam from the food curling between them like another layer of heat.

Neither mentioned the showers. Neither needed to.

And the tension stayed — sharp, steady, impossible to ignore.

The quiet between them stretched, broken only by the soft scrape of chopsticks against bowls. Naruto had done a good job — the rice was fluffy, the eggs just the right kind of runny — but neither of them was really paying attention to the food.

Halfway through the meal, Kakashi set his chopsticks down, eye narrowing faintly over the rim of his mask. “...Making me breakfast as an apology will not work all the time, you know.”

Naruto looked up, lips curving. “Oh? You’re becoming hard to please, Hokage-sama.”

“You pushed too far.”

“I didn’t see you pulling back.”

“Neither did you.”

They stared across the table, the air humming with all the things that weren’t being said, the bite of challenge mixed with something warmer, heavier. For a moment it felt like the whole world had stilled just to leave them hanging there, caught on the line they kept toeing closer to.

Then — a sharp knock at the door.

An ANBU masked figure slipped into the kitchen, bowing low. “Urgent message for the Hokage.”

The thread snapped. Naruto leaned back in her seat with an exaggerated sigh, muttering, “Of course.”

Kakashi took the scroll, but his eyes lingered on her for a heartbeat longer before he opened it — as if to say we’re not done here.

The ANBU’s bow was silent, the mask glinting in the low morning light before the figure melted out of sight again, leaving the faint chill of the winter air in his place. Kakashi unrolled the scroll, scanning the lines with the kind of practiced focus that usually kept him unreadable.

But this time, Naruto leaned forward before he could even speak. “That’s the same border dispute I handled last spring. The one near the Ame–Grass line, right?”

His brow ticked. “You remember.”

“Of course I remember. I practically lived in the mess until they signed the ceasefire.” Her voice softened, more thoughtful now. “I should go. It’ll be quick. Delegation work only, and it’ll give me the chance to stop by Ame afterward.”

Kakashi lowered the scroll, his silence louder than any refusal.

Naruto smirked, though her eyes searched his face. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it makes sense.”

“It always makes sense for you to go to Ame,” he countered, tone mild but threaded with something sharper underneath. “And it always takes longer than you say.”

Her lips parted, a retort on her tongue, but she hesitated. Then, softer: “I think it’ll be good for either of us… the distance. It’ll help calm ourselves down.”

Kakashi blinked once. The corner of his mouth curved slowly upward, not in humor but in smug recognition. “‘Ourselves,’ huh.”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You just admitted it.” His gaze sharpened, holding hers with deliberate weight. “That it’s not just me.”

Her cheeks warmed instantly, the red too obvious against her skin. “You’re a proud man, Kakashi.”

“And you’re not as unaffected as you think you are.”

The flush deepened, her smirk trying and failing to hide it. “This is exactly why I have to leave.”

Kakashi lifted his tea, the smile audible in his voice. “You’re more rational than people credit you for.”

“And you’re as impatient as they don’t even know you are.”

“When it comes to you,” he said easily, like it was fact, “patience is a thin line.”

She groaned, half-exasperated, half-flustered. “This conversation is not helping.”

He chuckled low behind his cup. “Yeah.” Setting it down, he tilted his head. “How long will you be gone?”

Naruto sighed, already pushing her bowl away. “You’re the Hokage. You only need to stamp a decree and you can summon me back whenever.”

“Hn. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her head thunked softly against her hand. “Why did I even bother.”

---

The house felt quieter than it had in days, the kind of silence that pressed at the edges of Kakashi’s chest as he leaned against the doorframe and watched her move. Naruto was gathering her things with practiced efficiency—scrolls tucked away, cloak adjusted, weapons check done without even glancing down. It was the kind of preparation he’d seen her do a hundred times before missions, but somehow it struck him differently now.

Maybe because this time, she wasn’t just going on a mission. She was leaving him.

The bag swung easily over her shoulder, and she straightened with that unshakable brightness, only to glance at him and catch the heaviness in his eyes. Her lips tugged into a grin, teasing to cover it.

“Don’t miss me too much, alright? And for once, try not to mope. Oh—and please, Hokage-sama, I beg you, don’t summon me back right away. I’ve got plenty to do in Ame after the Summit.”

He hummed, noncommittal, arms folded over his chest. “Can’t promise.”

She sighed, exasperated but fond, and dropped her bag by the door with a soft thud. In two strides she was in front of him, arms sliding around his middle. The hug was tight, grounding, as if she were memorizing the heat of him, tucking it away to carry into Ame’s rain and shadows.

Kakashi let his chin rest lightly in her hair, breathing her in, and for once he didn’t fight the impulse that rose with it. His lips brushed her temple in a fleeting kiss—sweet, unspoken. A promise that he would wait. That he could.

Her breath caught just a fraction before she chuckled softly, muffled against his chest. “You know, no one’s actually watching, right?”

His brow arched, smirk tugging at the edge of his mask. “Mm. I stopped acting a long time ago.”

The words settled between them, heavier than the air around them, but Naruto only smiled—because she heard what he didn’t say.

---

Two months.

That’s how long it had been since Naruto walked out his door with her bag slung over her shoulder and rain waiting for her on the other side of the country.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, eyes skimming the stack of mission reports in front of him without actually absorbing a single word. The ink blurred together, paragraphs dissolving into nothing. He rubbed at his temple with two fingers, but the tension never really eased.

It wasn’t that the work itself had changed. The Hokage’s office had always run on endless paperwork, negotiations, signatures that demanded more stamina than half the ANBU missions he used to take. He could handle all of that. What he couldn’t handle was the gnawing absence—her absence—that made even the quiet hum of the office feel off balance.

The door slid open without a knock. Shikamaru stepped in, a folder under his arm and a look on his face that said he was at the end of his patience. Behind him trailed Ino, and even Sai, both carrying their own stacks like backup troops in some silent rebellion.

“Another week of this and I’m putting in a formal complaint,” Shikamaru muttered, tossing the folder onto Kakashi’s desk. “It’s troublesome enough dealing with one Hokage. Dealing with a Hokage who growls every time someone says ‘Ame’ is getting ridiculous.”

Ino crossed her arms, fixing him with a pointed stare. “Honestly, it’s bad for morale. The younger chūnin are starting to whisper about it. You sulk like a widower every time you look out the window.”

Sai tilted his head in that disarming way of his, tone blunt as ever. “They’re not wrong. Your mood is affecting productivity.”

Kakashi let out a slow exhale, eye narrowing faintly above the mask. “Are you all staging a mutiny?”

“No,” Shikamaru said flatly. “We’re begging Naruto to come back soon because clearly, you’re not yourself without her around. And frankly, none of us should have to pay for it.”

The words shouldn’t have landed as hard as they did, but Kakashi didn’t argue—because they were right. Every week stretched thinner than the last, and every letter from Naruto carried just enough of her voice to keep him sane, but not enough to fill the space she’d left.

The Hokage, reduced to this.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair again, staring at the ceiling, and thought—not for the first time—that patience had never felt quite so heavy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

When the Rain Clears

Amegakure’s rain never fell lightly. Tonight, it came in sheets that blurred the lanterns strung along the streets into wavering smears of light, each drop carrying the weight of the storm that had torn across the borders three nights ago. The village still bore the marks of it—collapsed rooftops, flooded alleyways, and too many wounded carried into makeshift shelters.

Naruto tugged the flap of the canvas tighter against the wind and glanced at the two women who had been working at her side since morning. “Thanks,” she said, her voice roughened by fatigue but still warm. “Really. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you two didn’t come.”

Sakura wiped her hands on a damp cloth, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, green chakra still faintly humming at her fingertips. “Don’t thank us. Thank your Hokage,” she said, arching a brow. “He’s the one who sent us the second he heard the storm had hit this bad.”

Ino, perched on a stool nearby while organizing bandages and herbs into neat rows, shot Naruto a look that was half-teasing, half-pointed. “Honestly, I think he sent us as much for you as for the injured. Man looked about ready to bite someone’s head off if he didn’t hear back from you soon.”

Naruto blinked, caught off guard for a beat before a chuckle slipped out. “Figures,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Can’t hide anything from him.”

Sakura snorted. “Hide? Please. I’ve seen him when you’re gone too long. The man’s practically impossible to work with. Even Shikamaru’s losing patience.” She leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice even though the tent was mostly empty now. “You know, if you ever wondered if he misses you…”

“...he does,” Ino finished with a sly grin.

Naruto rolled her eyes but the warmth creeping into her cheeks betrayed her. “You two came here to help, not gossip.”

“Multitasking,” Ino quipped, tying a neat knot around a stack of gauze.

Sakura only smirked, not bothering to deny it.

Naruto exhaled, gaze dropping briefly to her hands, raw from days of work, faint tremors in her fingers she hadn’t let herself acknowledge until now. She knew what they were implying—what she herself hadn’t wanted to put into words. The distance was supposed to calm things down. Instead, it felt like every day only wound the line between her and Kakashi tighter.

She shook her head, forcing a smile, and reached for another roll of bandages. “Storm’s not over yet,” she said. “Save the gossip for when the village stops bleeding.”

But even as she said it, the thought of him—of Konoha, of that quiet warmth she’d left behind—pressed in around her, steady as the rain.

___

The next two days blurred together into rain, mud, and the endless rhythm of tending to the wounded. Naruto moved as she always did in the aftermath of a disaster—wherever someone was crying out, wherever hands were needed, wherever Ame bled.

She waded through the flooded streets alongside the villagers, shoulders braced beneath half-collapsed beams, hauling families from what was left of their homes. She patched levees with chakra and stubborn grit, taking shifts longer than anyone else because stopping meant thinking—meant remembering the empty space at her side.

The Konoha aides scattered through the shelters and clinics made the work faster. Ino’s presence was a blessing, her sharp eyes catching infections before they spread. Sakura’s chakra poured into one patient after another, steady and precise as a scalpel. Together they kept Ame breathing through the worst of it.

By the end of the second day, the rain finally eased into a steady drizzle. The streets were scarred, but not broken. The people of Ame had weathered worse storms, and with help, they would weather this too.

Inside one of the larger shelters, Naruto finally sat down, shoulders slumping against the wall. Her hands stung, raw from rope burns and half-healed cuts she hadn’t bothered to cover. She flexed them once, winced, then tucked them under her cloak.

“Alright,” Sakura’s voice cut through the murmur of the shelter. She crossed the space with a medic’s surety, dropping onto the bench opposite Naruto. “Your turn.”

Naruto blinked at her. “My turn?”

“You think I didn’t notice?” Sakura’s gaze sharpened. “You were the first one out when the storm hit. You’ve been running on fumes ever since. Show me your hands.” Warmth spread, prickling as torn skin knit.

Naruto tried for a shrug, casual and careless, but Sakura’s tone brooked no argument. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands free. The cloth stuck briefly to the skin, tugging against half-closed gashes.

Sakura hissed. “I knew it.” She caught Naruto’s wrists before she could tuck them away again. “You can’t heal anyone else if you’re running yourself into the ground. You should know better.”

Naruto offered a sheepish grin, the one she used to when she got caught skipping class all those years ago. “Didn’t wanna slow things down. People needed help.”

“People still need you,” Sakura said flatly, already channeling chakra into her palms. The warm glow spread across Naruto’s skin, knitting torn flesh together with practiced ease. “But not if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”

The sting ebbed, leaving only a dull ache. Naruto exhaled, quieter this time. “...Thanks, Sakura.”

Sakura’s expression softened, though her hands didn’t pause. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not finished chewing you out.” She muttered, focus never leaving the glow of chakra flowing into Naruto’s palms.

Naruto chuckled, tired but warm. “Yeah, yeah. You sound like my old sensei.”

“And you act like the same reckless genin,” Sakura shot back. “Some things don’t change.”

“Mm, but some things do.”

That voice came from the doorway. Ino leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, blonde hair damp from the drizzle outside. Her smile had that familiar feline curve—equal parts amused and predatory.

Naruto groaned. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Ino sing-songed, crossing the room and dropping beside Sakura with a graceful flop. “Do you really think we flew all this way just to patch up villagers? Please. We came to check on you too.” She gave Naruto an exaggerated once-over, eyes narrowing playfully. “And what do I find? You, running into storms like you’re still fifteen, and hiding injuries like you think no one’s paying attention.”

Naruto rubbed at the back of her neck, suddenly feeling like a kid caught red-handed. “Didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Bad enough,” Sakura muttered, pressing her thumb against a closing cut until Naruto hissed. “Stop squirming.”

Ino leaned in, voice dropping low enough for only the three of them to hear. “You know, if you keep this up, people might start to think you’ve got a death wish. And I’m not sure a certain Hokage back home would appreciate that.”

Naruto froze, blinking. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Ino drawled, rolling her eyes. “Even I can hear his grumpy growls from Konoha. He’s impossible when you’re gone too long. Honestly, I’m amazed Shikamaru hasn’t staged a mutiny by now.”

Sakura’s mouth twitched despite herself. “She’s not wrong.”

Naruto’s ears burned, and she waved them both off. “Tch, you’re exaggerating. Kakashi’s fine.”

“Mmhm,” Ino hummed, clearly unconvinced. She propped her chin on her hand and smirked. “Guess we’ll just see how ‘fine’ he looks when you finally drag yourself back. My money’s on him practically biting off the first ANBU that interrupts him.”

Sakura finished with a final pulse of chakra, releasing Naruto’s hands. “There. Try not to destroy them again in the next twenty-four hours.”

Naruto flexed her fingers, now smooth and pain-free, and mumbled, “Thanks…”

Ino’s smirk only deepened. “Don’t thank her. Thank the man who’s going to owe us when we tell him how careless you’ve been. Hokage-sama’s going to love that story.”

Naruto groaned, burying her face in her healed hands. “This is why I hate when you two team up.”

But despite her words, the shelter felt warmer, lighter, as the three of them sat together—the storm outside finally passing.

------

By the time Sakura and Ino were called back to the triage tents, Naruto stayed behind in the shelter, her legs folded beneath her on the thin futon. The quiet pressed in heavy now that their voices were gone, the only sound the steady drip of rainwater trickling from the eaves outside.

She flexed her hands again—whole, steady, not a trace of the raw sting she’d been ignoring for two days. Sakura was right, of course. She’d run headlong into the storm before half the guards could even react. Broken glass, collapsed scaffolding, half-rotted roofs crashing down under the weight of water—Naruto had pushed herself through it all, carrying too many people at once. Her skin still hummed faintly with phantom aches.

But that wasn’t what lingered.

What lingered was Ino’s smirk. Even I can hear the grumpy growls from his office…

Naruto dropped her head back against the wall with a soft thud.

“Kakashi, huh,” she muttered to the empty room.

She hadn’t needed Ino to spell it out. She could feel it herself—in the quiet hours after long days like this, when her body begged for rest but her mind wouldn’t let go. She could picture him too easily: hunched over paperwork, one hand in his hair, that tired line in his shoulders. The same line that always eased whenever she was around.

It was stupid, really. She’d meant what she told him before she left—that the distance would help, that putting space between them might cool the heat they kept stumbling into. But here she was, ten weeks in, and the space hadn’t cooled a damn thing.

If anything, it made her restless.

Her fingers curled absently in her lap. She remembered too vividly the feel of his arms each night in the Land of Iron, the way he let her settle without a word. She’d gotten used to it—too used to it. Because even now, in Ame, surrounded by rain and noise and people, she kept reaching for that same steady warmth and finding nothing but air.

Naruto exhaled, long and uneven, then pressed her palms to her face.

“Damn it,” she muttered into her hands.

Because the truth was simple, and it was heavier than any storm: she missed him.

And no matter how she tried to bury it beneath duty, beneath Ame, beneath every excuse she could line up—missing him wasn’t something she could will down.

“Took you long enough,” Kurama’s voice rumbled lazily from deep within, curling around her thoughts like smoke. “I was starting to wonder if you were really as dense as the rest of them say.”

Naruto groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Not now.”

“What, you think you’re the only one tossing and turning? That man hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since you left. You should’ve seen the way he glared at your shadow clone the last time you sent one for a report.” Kurama gave a low, amused snort. “Pathetic. Both of you.”

Her cheeks burned hotter than the small scrapes Sakura had healed. “…You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Kurama’s tails flicked in the space of her mind, smug and sharp. “The two of you spend seven nights tangled up in each other, and then expect me to believe you can go ten weeks without wanting more? Please. You’re restless, he’s restless. If you don’t sort yourselves out soon, I’m starting a betting pool on how many brats you’ll end up with once you finally stop pretending.”

Naruto yanked her blanket over her head, muffling both her laugh and her groan. “You’re impossible.”

“No,” Kurama corrected with a satisfied rumble. “I’m right.”

She pressed her face into the pillow, heart beating too fast for the quiet room. And maybe she hated that he was right. Or maybe she didn’t.

---

The rain hadn’t stopped—Naruto wasn’t sure it ever truly would—but Ame looked different now.

Two months ago, the streets were lined with broken stalls and waterlogged tarps, merchants selling out of crates with voices made hoarse by shouting over thunder. Now the market hummed with something steadier. Fresh lumber had gone into rebuilding covered walkways, new canopies stretched taut over stalls, and the smell of grilled fish and steamed buns cut clean through the damp air. Children darted between the crowd without slipping on half-rotted planks; those had been replaced, too.

Naruto lingered at the edge of the square, hood pushed back, watching a woman with a baby sling one-handedly haggle for rice. It wasn’t loud—not like Konoha’s main market—but it wasn’t silent anymore, either. The kind of silence Ame had worn like a second skin, broken only by rain.

“Looks less like a graveyard,” Kurama observed, his voice low in her chest.

“Yeah,” she murmured, hands sliding into her pockets.

And it wasn’t just the markets. The shinobi presence had shifted, too. The last of the old factions had been forced to disband or re-align under the new structure she’d pushed through after the Summit. Patrols ran regularly now—some shinobi she recognized from Ame’s old guard, others freshly transferred in from Konoha or Suna on temporary contracts. People were starting to treat them like protectors again, not predators.

She crossed a rebuilt bridge, its beams fresh with oil and etched with prayers for luck. Below, the canal flowed clear—cleaner than she’d seen it in years. Volunteers had pulled weeks scrubbing debris, and the storm cleanup had accelerated what she’d once thought would take months.

Naruto’s boots splashed lightly in puddles as she stopped at the far end, gaze lifting to the skyline. Ame’s towers still looked like ribs jutting against the sky, but now scaffolds climbed some of them. Repair crews patched metal plates, reinforced walkways. Even the battered tower Yahiko once claimed as headquarters had new glass glinting in its highest windows.

It still rained. It always would. But Ame was moving

“You’re turning this place into a village again,” Kurama said. There was no teasing in his tone this time, only quiet recognition. “Not just a battlefield people survive in.”

Naruto’s jaw tightened, then eased. “That’s the point.”

But even as she thought it, she felt the tug in her chest—that same stubborn thread that reached back across miles of river and land to Konoha, to where she knew exactly who was waiting, sulking in an office, probably snapping at aides again.

Naruto shook her head, pushing forward down the street. If she kept still too long, the ache got worse. And Ame didn’t need her distracted.

---

The field smelled of scorched earth and ozone, the last remnants of the skirmish still lingering in the air. Naruto wiped her brow with the back of her hand, smearing dirt across her cheek, and straightened up from binding the last injured shinobi’s arm.

“Alright,” she said, tying the knot with her teeth before patting his shoulder. “You’re good to move. Head back with the others.”

The shinobi nodded, relief etched in his tired expression, and trotted off toward the cluster gathering by the treeline. The sun was already dipping, orange light cutting across the wet grass, and the aftermath of battle looked smaller than it had at noon.

Naruto rolled her shoulders, scanning the field. The Ame border stretched quiet behind her, the hills still slick from rain. Konoha’s squad had pushed the rogue shinobi back and scattered them—nothing Yamato couldn’t have handled himself, but Naruto had been first to respond to the call. As always.

She crouched to retrieve her kunai, cleaning the blade on her thigh before slipping it back into its pouch. Ame was home now, but Konoha… Konoha still asked, and she always answered. It was the line she kept taut: her allegiance unshaken, her presence proof. She wanted them to know it. Needed them to.

Yamato’s shadow stretched long as he approached, arms folded loosely across his chest. “You’ve still got it,” he remarked, voice mild, though there was something pointed beneath it.

Naruto snorted. “Still? Like I was gonna lose it just ‘cause I don’t crash through Konoha’s gates every other day?”

“You’ve been gone a while,” he said simply. Then, after a pause: “…When are you due back?”

She hesitated, tugging at the hem of her cloak. “Soon.”

It wasn’t a promise, exactly. More like a soft tether she threw in his direction, hoping it was enough.

Yamato studied her a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “…Your presence will be much appreciated. Even Tsunade-sama is at her wit’s end getting Kakashi to stop snapping at council meetings.”

Naruto froze for a beat—then barked out a laugh, sharp and bright, cutting through the heaviness in the air. “Wait, wait—Baa-chan said that? Our snappy Baa-chan? It must be really bad if she’s complaining about him.”

Yamato’s mouth curved, the barest twitch of amusement. “You could say that.”

Naruto pressed her hands to her hips, grin lingering even as her chest tightened… the she barked a laugh –sharp, bright. “Guess I should save everyone before he sets the tower on fire with just his mood.”

“Guess so,” Yamato agreed, though his gaze lingered on her with quiet meaning.

Naruto didn’t answer it. She turned back toward Ame’s horizon, rain clouds brewing low, as if they were listening in.

---

Konoha – Hokage’s Office

The late afternoon sun spilled across the wide desk, turning the paperwork into a battlefield of glowing ink and threatening shadows. Kakashi leaned back in his chair, one hand loose around a pen he hadn’t moved in the last five minutes, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The window was open, but even the breeze felt stale.

The door slid open. Yamato stepped in, still in mission gear, his expression as even as ever. “The border assignment’s been dealt with,” he reported, setting a slim stack of scrolls on the desk.

Kakashi gave a hum of acknowledgment, the kind that could mean good work or I’ll look at it later. He didn’t glance up.

“She was there,” Yamato added after a moment, his tone carefully casual. “Naruto.”

That drew Kakashi’s eye.

“She looks good,” Yamato continued. “Calm. Healthy. She seems… happy.”

Kakashi let the silence stretch, long enough that the tick of the clock became sharp in the room. His fingers tightened slightly around the pen. Happy. The word stung and soothed at the same time. Happy— in Ame. Happy far away from him.

Yamato studied him, then sighed softly. “She said she’ll be home soon.”

Kakashi's grip eased by a fraction. The word settled differently in Kakashi’s chest than it probably should have. Home. He should’ve thought of Konoha, of the village towers, of the broad avenues beneath the Hokage Monument. Instead, the image that surfaced was unbearably simple: his apartment door creaking open, Naruto’s voice filling the quiet, her steps crossing his floor as if they’d always belonged there.

As if he was home.

Kakashi’s jaw shifted, but he didn’t correct the thought. He couldn’t.

“…Soon, huh,” he said finally, voice even, though something deep in it threatened to crack.

Yamato nodded, waiting.

Kakashi turned back to the desk, tapping the pen against the paper with a rhythm that betrayed the restlessness in his chest. He forced the words flat, practical: “Make sure her report is filed.”

But Yamato knew better. He only inclined his head, leaving the office in silence.

Kakashi sat there a long time, staring at the same spot on the paper, until the sun dipped low and the only thing he could hear was the echo of Naruto’s promise.

Home soon.

–---

Council Chambers

The chamber smelled of parchment and ink, warmed by the afternoon sun filtering in through the tall windows. Scrolls lay stacked in neat rows across the table, each stamped with mission updates, border agreements, and the lingering signatures of allied villages.

Kakashi sat at the head of the table, shoulders straight, expression unreadable behind his mask. Shikamaru leaned against the wall nearby, half-lidded eyes sharp in spite of his posture.

They were halfway through the agenda when Homura cleared his throat. “The matter of Amegakure,” he began, tapping one scroll pointedly, “seems to be shifting.”

Koharu adjusted her spectacles. “Yes. Reports indicate that, under Uzumaki Naruto’s guidance, the nation has stabilized faster than anticipated. Their trade market is recovering, shinobi ranks are reorganizing… they’re no longer simply receiving aid, they’re beginning to offer it.”

There were nods around the table. A younger councilman added, “If this continues, Ame could become an independent power again.”

That drew a faint hum from Kakashi, though his hand tightened around the brush he’d been idly twirling. He already knew all this. He’d known every step of her progress because he’d followed each report like it was the only thing anchoring him while she was gone.

But then—

“She’s done enough, don’t you think?” someone else said, too casually. “Perhaps it’s time Uzumaki Naruto returned to Konoha permanently.”

Kakashi’s gaze flicked up. The room shifted, a ripple of whispers.

Another voice cut in, hesitant but edged with calculation: “…She’s still a Hokage candidate, is she not? Unless—” the pause dragged, “—unless she’s considering a different title entirely. Amekage.”

A stunned silence. Ink-stained fingers went still, even the braziers seemed to hush. Then the whispers swelled, sharper now—shock, disbelief, even horror.

“That would be unthinkable—”

“Surely the girl wouldn’t—”

“Do you suppose Amegakure might press the title onto her?”

Kakashi stilled, the brush balanced precariously between his fingers. The thought had crossed his own mind before, in darker hours when her letters were too few and the rain-country reports too frequent. But hearing it aloud—he felt the weight of it land across the chamber like an ax.

“…Perhaps,” one of the older advisors said carefully, “it’s time this matter was… solidified.” His gaze slid to Kakashi, sharp beneath his brows. “Don’t you think it’s due that you two should marry?”

The brush snapped in Kakashi’s hand. “Silence.”

For a moment, no one breathed. Even Shikamaru straightened from the wall, watching him.

“…Her overstaying in Ame,” another voice ventured, quieter but insistent, “has left the village uneasy. There’s a sense… as though their hero has been taken from them. As though Amegakure keeps what is ours.”

The words coiled in the air, deliberate and heavy. All eyes shifted back to Kakashi, waiting for his response.

He leaned back slowly, gloved fingers brushing the broken piece of brush aside. When he finally spoke, his tone was deceptively mild, but it carried through the chamber with no room for misunderstanding.

“…Naruto is not a prize to be taken. She is a shinobi. A leader. She decides where she stands.”

Some of the council looked away, chastened. Others frowned, unsatisfied.

Shikamaru, arms folded, exhaled through his nose. Troublesome, his expression read, but his gaze lingered on Kakashi—sharp, knowing, and maybe the only one in the room who noticed how tight his shoulders had gone beneath the Hokage’s robes.

The meeting pressed on, but the tension remained, simmering beneath every line of policy.

-----

The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that echoed louder than the council’s voices had. For a moment, Kakashi stood still in the quiet, head tilted back, letting the weight of silence settle. Only then did he strip off the Hokage’s robe, folding it with mechanical precision before dropping into his chair.

Amekage.

The word tasted bitter on his tongue. He’d thought it before, sure—Naruto belonged anywhere she chose, Ame or Konoha or the whole damn shinobi world if she wanted. But hearing it voiced, like a possibility the council could one day stamp and seal, made something twist sharp inside him.

He dragged a hand over his face, fingers brushing through his hair. They see her absence as theft. Like Ame stole her. Like I let them.

But he knew better. He knew Naruto. She hadn’t stayed because she was seduced by Ame’s rain or by its crumbling streets and wary citizens. She stayed because that’s who she was—because she couldn’t walk away from a place still drowning when she had hands strong enough to pull them up.

And he loved her for it.

…Which only made it worse.

He thought of her laugh in the Land of Iron, too loud for the stiff air of the summit but cutting through it anyway, pulling a rare smile from Gaara and even a huff from A. He thought of the way she’d curled into him at night without hesitation, like she’d known his warmth was hers to claim.

Amekage.

He slouched forward, elbows braced on his desk, chin resting in his hand. His eye drifted to the stack of reports Yamato had dropped off earlier—the ones that said Naruto looked calm, healthy, steady.

It should’ve eased him. Instead it stung. Because she looked that way without him.

And when Yamato had said, “She’ll be home soon,” Kakashi hadn’t thought of Konoha. Not once. His first thought had been me.

His lips twitched beneath the mask, dry, humorless. You’re more selfish than you let on, Hatake.

Ame was stabilizing. Konoha was restless. The council was circling. And through it all, he wanted only one thing—that the next time she said “home,” she meant his arms, not a village in the rain.

But he’d never ask her to choose.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling until the lines blurred, and exhaled a sigh that carried more longing than he’d admit to anyone alive.

Two months, he thought. And it feels like a lifetime.

---

The midday sun slanted across the walls of Konoha, scattering sharp shadows over the gate. The gate guards straightened at a pulse of chakra—bright, unmistakable. Their shoulders eased at once, a smile tugging at one mouth before the other sighed aloud.

“Welcome home, Naruto.”

Her grin was easy, as if she’d never been gone at all. “Thanks. Missed this place.”

The gates creaked open, and for a moment the village seemed to exhale with her.

Far above, in the Hokage’s office, Kakashi had already risen from his chair. He stood at the wide windows, scrolls forgotten, gaze fixed on the distant road that wound up to the gate. He didn’t need the sight—he could feel her chakra, bright and sure, weaving into the rhythm of the village like it had always belonged there.

His chest tightened, a sharp, almost painful thud against his ribs.

She’s home.

The thought was quiet, reverent, and it left him standing there longer than he meant to, hands braced on the sill as if he could anchor the sudden weight of relief settling through him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Obliterating the Line

Kakashi had been standing by the door for too long, hands loose at his sides, trying not to look like he was waiting. But he was. He could feel her chakra at the gate, that familiar brightness threading closer through the village streets, tugging at him like a rope around his chest.

He exhaled once, long and steady, before sliding the door open—

—and nearly walked straight into Shikamaru.

“You’re needed in council,” Shikamaru said flatly, already halfway turning down the hall.

Kakashi’s brow pulled low. “That’s not on the schedule.”

“Nope. It wasn’t—until your fiancée scheduled it for us.”

There was a beat of silence. “...What?”

Shikamaru flicked him a look over his shoulder, unbothered. “Yeah, exactly. Get ready. Five minutes.”

And just like that, Kakashi’s anticipation twisted into something else entirely—something caught between disbelief, irritation, and the low, impossible pull that always came with her name.

Kakashi sat in the circular chamber he sorely hated, the polished wood and high-backed chairs closing in around him like a trap. A council meeting he hadn’t scheduled, with an agenda no one thought to give him—he hated surprises like this.

The tension was already thick, the usual murmur of whispers buzzing among the advisors. He didn’t hear them. He couldn’t. His anticipation from the gates hadn’t burned off—it had condensed, simmering low in his chest, tightening his ribs.

His eyes stayed fixed on the door.

He didn’t care what reports they had prepared, didn’t care about whatever political performance this was supposed to be. The only thing that mattered was the chakra signature he’d felt surging closer and closer—bright, unmissable, like sunlight after days of grey.

The door creaked open.

Naruto stepped in, voice light, carrying a casual conversation with Tsunade as if this were just another ordinary day. She wasn’t even looking at the room—completely unaware of the way every pair of eyes had turned, the shift in air that seemed to follow her presence.

But Kakashi noticed everything.

The faint flush of her cheeks from travel, the sweep of her hair still mussed by the wind, the curve of her lips when she smiled at something Tsunade muttered under her breath. She moved like she belonged in this chamber—like she was the answer to why it didn’t collapse under the weight of its own self-importance.

And to him, sitting there with his heart thudding like it had no sense of dignity, she was… devastating. The most beautiful thing that had ever walked through that door, through this village, through his life.

He hadn’t breathed properly since the gates, and now—watching her—he wasn’t sure he remembered how. Smouldering eyes locked on her, unwilling to look away, Kakashi thought, She has no idea what she does to me.

If the councilors were whispering, Kakashi didn’t hear. His pulse thudded against his ribs, and the sheer warmth of her chakra swept through him in waves. Gods, he thought distantly, she could have been gone for years and I’d still know her step the second she walked through a door.

“…Naruto-sama.” One of the councilors finally found his voice, standing as though a legend had just materialized in flesh. “You’ve returned from Ame.”

“Mm.” She smiled, casual, dropping into the empty seat like she’d planned this all along. “Missed me?”

A ripple of uneasy chuckles stirred the room. But the tension thickened immediately after.

Another councilor leaned forward, voice clipped. “You’ve been gone for months. In your absence, unrest grows. Citizens worry—whisper—that you’ve forsaken Konoha for Amegakure.”

A different elder chimed in, sharper: “Some even say you consider the Amekage’s seat. The rumors spread whether you acknowledge them or not.”

Kakashi’s shoulders tightened, but he didn’t speak. He never did, when it came to this—he absorbed their pointed remarks in silence, let them believe what they wanted, rather than let Naruto bear the sting of it. He sat there, jaw set beneath the mask, every word landing like a stone against his chest.

They don’t know her, he thought. They’ll never understand her the way I do.

The questions mounted, one after another—too sharp, too loud. The same accusations he’d been swallowing for weeks.

And then, at last, Naruto leaned slightly toward him, her voice pitched low so only he caught it. “I’m here to save your skin.”

His head turned, just enough for her grin to catch his eye. “What do you mean?” he muttered.

She only winked.

And then, with the same ease she used to walk into storms, Naruto turned to face the council, leaned back in her chair, unfazed by the elders’ probing stares. When she finally spoke, her tone was steady, clear enough to cut through the chamber like steel.

“Ame isn’t the same as it was years ago. It’s not fraying at the seams anymore. The people are standing on their own feet now, not waiting for scraps or for someone to swoop in and rescue them.” She folded her arms, gaze sweeping the room. “They don’t need me breathing down their necks every day. That was never the goal.”

A few murmurs flickered around the council, some skeptical, some grudgingly relieved.

“As for the Amekage rumors…” Naruto paused, her expression softening but her voice no less firm. “For the years I stayed in Ame, yeah — it became a home for me. I’ve fought for them, bled for them, and walked their streets in the worst of storms. But Ame is for its people. Not for me to own.”

She held the silence after those words like she was daring anyone to contradict her.

Kakashi felt something in his chest unclench, though his jaw stayed tight. She always did this — take the weight off his shoulders as if it were nothing, stand in the fire without flinching. He’d braced himself to take every strike meant for her, but here she was, dismantling the accusations with the simplest truth.

And then she smiled. Not at the councilors, not at Tsunade, not at anyone else in that circular room. Her gaze found his, steady and warm, and the corner of her mouth curved like a secret.

“Besides,” she said, with a lightness that made the room hold its breath, “I’ve got a Hokage here who’s been patient enough to wait. He’s waited long enough.”

It was a clean strike — Uzumaki bluntness, dressed as honesty, framed as a joke. The council shifted in their seats, whispers erupting again, half laughter and half shock.

Kakashi barely moved. But behind the mask, his lips curved, the faintest twitch of a smile he couldn’t stop. His pulse was thunder in his ears. She could have said anything else. But she said that.

The chamber rippled with laughter and exclamations. One of the older councilors leaned back with a grin. “Patience, huh?”

Another snorted. “We thought you’d sooner die buried in those little orange books than be caught waiting on a woman, Hokage-sama.”

Even Tsunade smirked, the edge of her sake cup poised at her lips. “Guess we underestimated what motivates you, brat.”

Naruto’s cheeks pinked under the chorus of voices, but she didn’t shrink. She tilted her head, grinning sheepishly, and rubbed the back of her neck. “What can I say? He makes it easy to come back.”

The room howled.

“Easy to come back,” one of the advisers echoed with a chuckle. “So what’s next, then? Don’t tell us we’ll never get to hear about the wedding. You are still going to get married, right? The Sixth never said a word.”

The teasing spiraled higher. Kakashi’s chest tightened like a vice.

Naruto only laughed with them, waving a hand as though she could shoo away their eagerness. “Oh, please. If I leave the planning to Kakashi, we’ll be waiting until the next century.”

More laughter. Heads nodding. A few sly glances darting toward the Hokage.

Kakashi hadn’t moved, his elbows still braced on the table, but his stomach was in freefall. Butterflies—actual butterflies—fluttered like he’d been shoved back into adolescence, except this was worse, because the woman smiling and saying that wasn’t a passing crush. It was Naruto. His Naruto.

He forced his eyes into its usual half-lidded boredom, but inside he was unraveling. Wedding. Next century. She hadn’t denied it.

Naruto accepted it all—every laugh, every pointed remark—as if she’d decided to embrace the entire storm of it. She wore it easily, like she’d worn everything else her whole life: boldly, openly, unafraid.

And it made his stomach twist in ways missions and wars never had.

For once, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The office door shut behind them with a soft click. The weight of the council’s laughter still clung to the air, echoing like phantom applause. Naruto was grinning—wide, unrepentant, bright enough to make Kakashi’s chest ache.

He hadn’t stopped staring at her since they left the chamber. Not even pretending.

“You,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he leaned just a little closer, “enjoyed that far too much.”

Naruto arched a brow, her grin only widening. “What, watching you squirm under all that teasing? Yeah, I really did.”

Kakashi huffed, feigning exasperation, though his smoldering gaze gave him away. He moved as if to reach for her—finally, after months apart, after the torment of seeing her laugh off the prospect of marriage like it wasn’t already driving him insane—

—and Naruto stopped him with a sharp thwap of parchment against his chest.

Kakashi blinked. “…Really?”

Her smirk was lethal. “Really. Reports from Ame. Updates on infrastructure. Trade documents. You’re welcome.”

He stared at her. At the stack of paperwork now occupying the space where her body should’ve been. Then back at her face—her smug, utterly infuriating face. “You came all this way to hand me homework?” He drawled, brow lifting.

Naruto leaned in just enough that he caught the warmth of her breath, her eyes glinting like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Business first, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi exhaled slowly, willing patience into his bones. “You’re wringing me dry, you know that?”

She only smirked deeper, settling herself casually on the edge of his desk, legs swinging like she hadn’t just disarmed him with a stack of files. “I’d say you’re handling it pretty well.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, heat curling in his chest. He dropped the papers deliberately onto the desk, leaned forward until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “…Don’t test me, Naruto.”

Her smirk faltered—just slightly. Then returned, softer, more dangerous. “I already am.”

The space between them vibrated like a drawn bowstring, the air taut with weeks of distance, council teasing, and now her deliberate baiting.

And Kakashi had never wanted to give in more.

Kakashi’s fingers twitched against the desk, aching to reach for her. Naruto tilted her head, lips curling into a victorious smirk as she tapped the top of the file stack.

“Paperwork first,” she reminded him, sing-song, like she hadn’t just turned his blood to fire.

He gave a low groan, more growl than sigh. “You’re cruel.”

“Efficient,” she corrected, leaning back on her palms as if she had all the time in the world. “Besides, you said patience is a thin line, right? Let’s see if the great Copy Ninja can handle waiting a few more hours.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, his focus slipping to her lips, then back up to meet her gaze. Naruto caught it—of course she did. Her grin softened, something warmer flickering beneath the tease.

“…Fine,” she said, voice dropping just a notch lower, “but you do deserve something for surviving the council circus without combusting.”

Before Kakashi could parse the words, she reached out, caught the edge of his mask, and tugged it down just enough—just enough. Then she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth, lingering there for one heartbeat, two. Sweet. Torturous.

Kakashi stilled. His pulse thundered.

By the time he moved to chase more, she’d pulled back, mask snapping back into place with a wicked grin. “There. A reward. Now finish your homework, Hokage-sama.”

“…That’s your idea of a reward?” His voice was rougher than intended, betraying every thought in his head.

Naruto hopped off his desk, stretching like she hadn’t just stolen the ground out from under him. “Mm-hm. And if you’re fast,” she tossed over her shoulder as she headed toward the door, “there might be a bigger one waiting tonight.”

The door clicked shut.

Kakashi sat there, staring at the paperwork. For once in his life, he was motivated to plow through every line of every damn report.

The last page of paperwork hit the desk with a muted slap. Kakashi sat back in his chair, staring at the completed stack like it had been his most dangerous mission yet. His body ached from hours of stillness, but his pulse ran hot—because tonight wasn’t just about duty. Tonight was about her.

He stood, stretched, tugged his cloak around his shoulders, and left the office behind. Each step down the quiet streets of Konoha tightened the coil inside him, anticipation wound so taut it nearly snapped.

By the time he slid open the door to his home, the familiar scent of paper, rain, and something softer—something her—was already drifting through. He exhaled sharply, chest catching.

She was there.

Naruto sat cross-legged on the couch, head tilted toward the lanternlight. Her hair was still damp from a bath, strands curling loose around her face, and the faintest trace of jasmine clung to the air. She looked up as the door closed, and the smile she gave him wasn’t the wide, reckless grin she offered the world—it was quieter, sharper, like she’d been waiting for him.

“You’re late,” she teased, though her eyes softened at the edges.

Kakashi tugged his mask down as he stepped inside, voice low. “You promised me a reward. I wasn’t about to leave any page unfinished.”

Naruto laughed, light and knowing, and patted the space beside her. “Good boy.”

Something in him snapped at that—every ounce of patience, restraint, and discipline he’d carried for weeks, months, years fraying apart under the sound of her voice, the sight of her waiting in his home, scented in jasmine, looking at him like this.

He crossed the room in a few strides.

He didn’t sit. He didn’t even give her a chance to shift before he was in front of her, hands braced against the couch on either side of her shoulders, caging her in.

Naruto blinked up at him, still smiling, still teasing—but it faltered when she saw the look in his eyes. That look she’d felt in his arms every night in Iron, in his silence every week apart, in the heat of every too-long glance.

“Ka—” she started, but it ended in a gasp as he bent down and kissed her.

There was no hesitation, no mask between them this time—only the raw, urgent press of his mouth against hers. Weeks of restraint, of pretending, burned away in a heartbeat. She clutched at his cloak, pulling him closer, and he groaned into her lips, the sound rumbling through her chest.

“...You kept me waiting too long,” he muttered against her mouth, voice rough, breathless.

Naruto laughed, though the sound shook as she tugged him down harder, lips crashing to his again. “What– You survived it just fine.”

“Barely.” His hand slid to her jaw, thumb brushing her flushed whiskered cheek, the other holding at her waist. She shifted, legs bracketing his hips without thinking, and suddenly there was no space left between them—only the sharp press of him, hard against her through the thin barrier of fabric. Heat coiled low in her belly, her body answering without hesitation, the ache spreading hot and insistent as she ground into him.

Kakashi’s breath hitched, forehead dropping to hers. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Naruto smirked through her flush, breath ghosting against his lips. “Oh, I think I do.”

And then she kissed him first—fierce, unyielding, every bit of fire he’d always known her for but turned into something sharper, older, hers. He met it with everything he had, one hand tangled in her hair, the other dragging her closer still.

The line wasn’t just crossed. It was obliterated.

Her lips burned against his, desperate, tasting, claiming. He couldn’t tell if the low sound caught in his throat belonged to him or her. His hand threaded deeper into her hair, tugging just enough to bare her throat to him. He broke the kiss only to trail lower, mouth dragging along the delicate line of her jaw, down to the edge of her pulse hammering too fast beneath her skin.

Naruto gasped, nails tightening on the fabric at his shoulders. She didn’t retreat—she pulled him in harder, like the last weeks of absence had carved a hollow in her and only this could fill it.

Kakashi swore he could lose himself in that need. Fingers traced the seam of her shirt, sliding beneath the hem until his palm found the curve of her waist and the soft swell above. The involuntary shiver that went through her, the way her chest arched into his touch, had him groaning low against her skin. She was warm—hot—and when her breath caught, he knew she wanted more.

Cloth shifted, his mask discarded without thought, her hands tugging at the fastening of his flak jacket with clumsy urgency. He shrugged it off, lips finding hers again, hungrier this time, the taste of her banishing every lingering doubt.

“Too much?” he rasped, forehead pressed to hers, chest heaving. Even now, at the edge of his undoing, he searched her eyes for hesitation.

Naruto shook her head fiercely, breathless and grinning, cheeks flushed hot. “Not enough.”

For a split second he froze, those words sinking deep, burning away every barrier he’d held onto. His breath left him in a harsh laugh, half-relief, half-desperation. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for, do you?”

Her answering smirk said she knew exactly.

That was all it took. Kakashi’s hands slid under her thighs, lifting her clean off the couch with effortless strength. She let out a startled sound — half gasp, half laugh — before clinging to him, her arms looped tight around his neck. He kissed her again as he carried her, stumbling only once against the wall in his hurry, not that either of them cared.

By the time he shouldered open the bedroom door, the world had narrowed to just this — her heat, her taste, her heartbeat hammering against his chest. He set her down on the bed with a care that belied the hunger in his movements, but his mouth never left hers, unwilling to give her even an inch of space.

Naruto bounced a little on the mattress as he set her down, grinning up at him like she’d just won a sparring match. “Carrying me, huh? Guess you’ve been planning that for a while.”

Kakashi huffed a laugh, bracing a knee on the bed as he leaned over her. “Don’t flatter yourself. The couch just isn’t… practical.”

Her laughter bubbled out, bright and shameless, even as his mouth brushed down her jaw. “Practical, huh? Spoken like a true Hokage.”

“Mm,” he murmured, teeth grazing the edge of her ear, “and you’ve always been a handful.”

Naruto swatted lightly at his shoulder, though her fingers lingered on his skin. “That’s a pretty bold complaint from the guy who’s been moping for two months straight.”

He groaned — half from the sting of her words, half from the way she arched into him. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she teased, voice low, but there was a softness under it, her hand sliding up to his face. “I missed you too much.”

That undid him more than anything else. He kissed her hard again, swallowing her words, his control fraying with every second. But even as his hands roamed, his voice broke between kisses: “Tell me… if I go too fast.”

Her smirk was quick, mischievous. “Since when do you move too fast?”

He laughed against her mouth, deep and rough, like she’d just challenged him on purpose. “Careful, Naruto,” he warned, his hand tracing down her side, “I might take that personally.”

“Good,” she shot back, cheeks flushed but eyes bright, “because I meant it that way.”

Kakashi’s mouth lingered on hers like he had all the time in the world, though the tremor in his hands betrayed him. Slowly, deliberately, he traced his fingers down her side, skimming the fabric of her shirt until he caught the hem and tugged it upward.

Naruto shivered as cool air brushed her skin, her breath quickening with every inch he revealed. He didn’t rush. He wanted—needed—to feel her flinch, her laughter, her gasps. So he pulled the fabric higher, knuckles grazing her waist, her ribs, until finally she raised her arms and let him slip it over her head.

Her hair spilled loose around her face, cheeks flushed, lips parted, the rise of her breasts bared to him for the first time. He froze, just staring—as if he hadn’t known what beauty was until now. Her nipples tightened under the cool air, and his breath stuttered.

“Kakashi…” she whispered, voice smaller than she meant it to be.

He leaned down, brushing a kiss over her temple before lowering his gaze, reverent. “I’ve waited too long to not take my time.”

And he did. Layer by layer, his hands and lips mapped her. He bent to her chest first, kissing the soft curve of her breast, then suckling gently until her sharp intake of breath broke into a helpless whimper. His tongue teased her peak, slow and patient, until her back arched into him. He shifted to her other breast, lavishing it with equal attention, as though both deserved to be worshipped.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, her body trembling under the way he lingered. She thought she would feel awkward, exposed—but instead, her heart ached at the tenderness in his touch, at the way he cherished her. His gaze caught hers between every kiss, every caress, wordlessly asking: Still with me? Still want this?

Her small nods, her sharp breaths, the way her fingers curled against his shoulders—those were her answers.

When he finally bared her fully, he didn’t surge forward. He settled beside her, hand spreading over her stomach, thumb stroking the faint tremor there. “Naruto,” he murmured, like her name alone was breaking him.

She reached up, cupped his cheek with her palm, bare skin meeting bare skin at last. “Stop looking at me like I’ll disappear.”

He chuckled low, though there was strain in it, like he was holding himself back. “Can’t help it. You have a habit of disappearing.” His lips claimed hers again, slower this time, then trailed lower—down her throat, the hollow of her collarbone, the swell of her breast—each press of his mouth deliberate, reverent. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, pulling a gasp, then soothed it with his tongue.

“Trying to memorize me, huh?” she teased breathlessly, though her voice broke on the words.

His hand smoothed down her hip, steady, grounding. “No. I already know you. This is just me… reminding myself you’re real.”

Her heart clenched at that, her body arching to meet his touch. Every nerve sang under him. She’d expected heat, hunger—but she hadn’t expected this: the awe in him, the care that turned every caress into a vow, every kiss a promise that he wouldn’t hurt her, only hold her.

And then his hand slid lower, between her thighs, coaxing them apart. She startled, a sharp breath escaping before she could stop it.

“Easy,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, his thumb brushing slowly over the soft heat of her. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Naruto bit her lip, cheeks blazing, but shook her head with fierce urgency. “Don’t you dare.”

That earned her a soft, breathless laugh before his mouth covered hers again, swallowing the little whimper that broke free as his fingers moved—cautious at first, testing her response, then bolder when she arched into him. His thumb circled, teasing, until her gasp caught and her hips tilted helplessly toward him. She’d fought gods, led armies—but here, in his arms, she trembled, undone by the simplest of touches.

Her hands scrabbled at him in return, tugging at his vest until he stripped it off, then the shirt beneath. The muscles of his chest and stomach came into view, cut and scarred from years of battle, and for a moment she just stared, heat flooding her cheeks and something low tightening in her belly.

“Kakashi,” she breathed, awed despite herself.

His mouth curved wryly. “Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll lose what’s left of my patience.”

But she touched him anyway—palms sliding over his chest, lower, until she found the waistband of his pants. Her hand slipped inside, and this time she wrapped her fingers around him bare. Hot, thick, heavy in her grip. His groan was guttural, broken, as his head dropped to her shoulder, hips jerking into her touch.

“Naruto,” he rasped against her ear, his restraint visibly fraying. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good,” she shot back, smirking, though her voice shook when his fingers slid deeper, stroking her folds, coaxing her open. He pressed slowly, deliberately, easing one finger inside, then another, stretching her gently as his thumb rubbed her swollen nub. The burn gave way to molten heat, her body clenching around him until she was clutching his shoulders, gasping his name into his chest.

He slowed only when he felt her trembling at the edge, coaxing her through the crest of it until she sagged against him, flushed and panting. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the tip of her nose. “Perfect,” he murmured hoarsely. “You’re perfect.”

She laughed breathlessly, tugging impatiently at his waistband until it slid down with her help. Her hand found him again, steady this time, stroking him with a shy boldness that made his whole body shudder.

“Not fair if it’s just me,” she whispered, teasing, though her cheeks were aflame.

His control nearly shattered when she pumped her fist along his length, testing his weight and girth. He hissed, burying his face in her neck as if he could hide the sound. “Naruto—” His voice cracked, rough, raw with need.

She tilted her head back, eyes wide but steady, lips trembling but determined. “I want this. I want you.”

He stilled, his breath catching as he searched her face for even the faintest shadow of doubt. Finding none, he pressed his lips to her temple, lingering there as if steadying himself. His exhale was shaky, reverent.

“Then let me do this right,” he promised, his voice low, frayed, and absolutely sincere.

He shifted over her, no pause for second thoughts. Just him, bared to her now, heavy against her thigh, thick and hard from her earlier touch. Naruto flushed crimson, her breath catching at the sheer reality of him.

Kakashi caught her look, the way her eyes widened, the heat that swept up her neck, and his mouth curved in the faintest, wickedest smile. “Don’t look at me like that,” he rasped, brushing his length teasingly against her folds, slick from his fingers. “Or I won’t last.”

Her breath hitched, a shiver racing down her spine. “Guess that later caught up.”

“Cheeky even when you're trembling.” His groan was broken as he leaned down, kissing her hard, his hand framing her jaw while his hips shifted carefully. He nudged into her, just at the entrance, and felt her tense beneath him. Immediately, he stilled, pressing his forehead to hers.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, voice frayed at the edges, thumb stroking her cheek. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curled tight into his shoulders, nails biting through skin. She forced herself to exhale, then nodded once, sharp and certain.

With patience that felt like it was tearing him apart, he pressed into her—inch by inch. The stretch was sharp, unfamiliar, pulling a hiss from her lips, but his hand slid down, thumb finding her clit and circling gently, coaxing her body to soften around him.

“Kashi—” Her voice broke on his name, half gasp, half plea.

“Shhh, I know.” His own body trembled with the effort to hold back, every muscle tight as a bowstring. He kissed the sweat from her brow, her temple, her lips, each inch deeper until finally, finally, he was fully seated inside her. The heat of her clenched tight around him, wet and new, and he nearly lost his mind at the feel of it.

He stayed there, forehead pressed to hers, heart pounding like it might break through his ribs. “Naruto…” His voice cracked, reverent and raw. “You’re mine.”

Her shaky laugh caught in her throat, though her eyes gleamed even through the haze. “Yeah, I know.”

And then—together—they moved.

At first, shallow, careful, his control held by threads as her body adjusted to the invasion. Every time he pulled back, she clung tighter, the heat of her drawing him deeper, until the restraint splintered. He rolled his hips slowly, deliberate, and her gasp turned into something else entirely.

Her breasts pressed against his chest, soft and warm, the brush of her nipples dragging against his skin with every shift. He lowered his mouth, closing over one with aching reverence, sucking gently, drawing a cry from her lips as she arched hard into him. His other hand cradled the curve of her breast, thumb brushing over the swollen peak, coaxing another gasp.

“Naruto, you feel—” He cut himself off with a groan, his rhythm faltering as she bucked up, taking him deeper.

“Kakashi…” She clung to him, her legs winding tight around his hips, nails scraping down his back. Her voice was ragged, desperate, but steady in its need.

Her responsiveness undid him—every gasp, every arch, every push back against his thrusts like she couldn’t bear a second of distance. He kissed her through it, groaning into her mouth, words spilling he hadn’t planned to say: beautiful, mine, always.

When he shifted angle, pressing deeper, her cry was sharp and unrestrained, her whole body shuddering as pleasure tore through her. The clutch of her release milked him mercilessly, dragging him with her. Kakashi buried his groan in her neck, thrusting once, twice more before he broke, spilling hot and deep inside her, the force of it tearing a curse from his lips.

He collapsed against her, both of them slick with sweat, chests heaving in sync. The line they’d toyed with, circled for so long, wasn’t blurred anymore—it was torn to bits.

Kakashi pressed his lips to her temple, breath still ragged. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured, hoarse and unsteady, half-laughing.

Naruto smirked weakly, her body still trembling with aftershocks. “And you think you're not?”

He groaned, burying his face in her hair, but his smile was wide, unguarded, utterly hers.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

Predictable, Unpredictable

The room was quiet except for the shallow rhythm of their breathing, still uneven, still chasing the echoes of what had just happened. Sheets tangled around their legs, the scent of sweat and her faint perfume clinging stubbornly to the air.

Naruto lay sprawled half on his chest, skin flushed, hair wild across his shoulder like a banner of victory. Her eyes, heavy-lidded but glinting, peeked up at him with a look that was equal parts smug and shy.

“Well,” she murmured, voice husky from the strain of kissing him breathless. “That… was worth running home to Konoha for.”

Kakashi huffed a laugh, carding lazy fingers through her damp hair, tugging gently at the tangles. “Worth it for you maybe.”

Her brow arched. “What, you weren’t impressed?”

His eyes curved, slow and sharp, like a blade catching the light. “Impressed, yes. Satisfied…?” He let the word trail, deliberate, his thumb brushing her cheek. “That’s another thing entirely.”

Naruto groaned and smacked his chest weakly. “You’re insatiable.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kakashi countered, sliding his hand down to the small of her back, anchoring her there. “You were the one who kissed me first. You started this.”

Her lips curled into a grin she couldn’t suppress. “And you’re the one who’s apparently not going to let me get any sleep tonight.”

Kakashi leaned in, lips grazing her temple, whisper soft. “Sleep when I'm done with you.”

Naruto flushed deeper, tugging the blanket higher as if it could shield her from the heat sparking low in her stomach again. Her sheepish silence—her agreement—was answer enough.

Kakashi’s smirk deepened as he pulled the blanket right out of her grip, letting it slide down and pool uselessly at her waist. “Hiding from me?” he teased, eyes dark as they swept over her bare skin. “That’s not going to work anymore.”

Before she could fire back, his mouth was on her again—slower this time, deliberate. He kissed her jaw, then down the column of her throat, lingering until her pulse raced under his lips. He didn’t stop, dragging the pace lower, over her collarbone, then lower still—until he reached the soft swell of her breast.

Naruto gasped, one hand flying up to grip his hair as his tongue circled a nipple, teasing until it hardened under his mouth. Heat shot straight through her, and she arched helplessly into him.

“K-Kakashi—”

He hummed against her, the vibration making her whimper. His hand rose to cup her other breast, kneading gently, thumb flicking across the peak with perfect pressure. He alternated between them, lavishing each with unhurried care until she was trembling beneath him, her chest rising and falling in sharp little breaths.

Her face burned, but her body betrayed her, rolling up against his hips in restless want. Kakashi groaned, low and raw, and bent to claim her mouth again, his hands sliding lower, exploring the curves he’d only dreamed of until now. He traced every line of her with reverence and hunger—her waist, the dip of her stomach, the trembling inside of her thighs.

By the time his fingers brushed her slick heat, Naruto was already writhing under him, clutching at his back, lost to the rhythm of his touch. He kissed her through it, swallowing her moans, savoring the way she broke apart against his hand—her body so responsive, so hers, and now his to memorize.

When she sagged against the pillows, trembling and breathless, Kakashi kissed her damp cheek, whispering against her ear, “That’s one way of proving I’m not done.”

Her laugh was shaky, wrecked, but honest. “Y-you’re insane.”

“Mm. No,” he corrected, settling between her thighs with a hunger that made her pulse trip. “I’m in love with you. And that means—” his lips brushed her ear, his voice thick, “—once will never be enough.”

Naruto’s body was still thrumming, sensitive from the way he’d unraveled her once already, and she barely had time to recover before Kakashi shifted between her thighs. His weight pressed her down, but his hands were everywhere—steady, coaxing, almost worshipful.

“Kakashi—” she breathed, half-plea, half-warning.

He caught her mouth in another kiss, fierce and wet. “I told you,” he murmured against her lips, “I’m not done.”

His hand slipped down, fingers stroking the heat he’d already coaxed from her. She flinched at the first touch—too raw, too much—and he soothed her with slow circles, patient until her hips began lifting into it again, the burn changing into want.

And his touch stayed careful, easing her open again until she was slick around his fingers. He kissed her deeply as he stretched her, groaning low at the way she clenched around him. When she was trembling on the edge again, he pulled his fingers free, slick and trembling with restraint. Her eyes opened just in time to catch his—dark, wild, hungry.

“Ready?” he asked, though his body already ached with the answer.

She swallowed, cheeks flushed, hair wild against the pillow. “I was ready when you looked at me like that,” she admitted, voice small but steady.

Something in him broke. With a groan, he pushed into her, slow but deeper than before, until she gasped, clinging tight to his shoulders. Her nails scraped his skin, grounding herself as he filled her again, stretching her sweetly, fully.

“Naruto—” he choked, pressing his face into her neck, shuddering at the way her body welcomed him.

Her answer was a cry, muffled against his shoulder, hips shifting instinctively to draw him deeper.

He started slow, careful with every thrust, but hunger edged into his pace, unhurried only in the way he kissed her through every sound she made. His hands never stopped moving—sliding over her hips, gripping her thighs, guiding her rhythm against his. When she arched, he caught her breast in his mouth again, sucking hard until she moaned loud enough to make him falter, nearly lose control.

“More,” she gasped, surprising even herself. “Please.”

His growl was muffled against her skin. He gave it to her—long, deep thrusts that dragged moans from her throat, each one answered with his own ragged groans. The wet heat between them grew louder, the bed creaking with the rhythm of their bodies, but Kakashi never stopped watching her, never stopped kissing her like she was the only thing that mattered.

She came first, clenching around him so hard he had to bite down on her shoulder to keep from breaking apart instantly. Her cry split into gasps as he rocked her through it, her body arching, legs locking around his waist.

“Beautiful,” he gritted, losing the last of his control, chasing his own release with urgent thrusts until he finally spilled into her, groaning her name like a prayer.

When he collapsed against her, both of them slick and shaking, he pressed his lips to her temple again, softer this time. “Told you once wasn’t enough,” he whispered hoarsely.

Naruto laughed weakly, still clutching him close. “You’re a menace.”

“Well, you made me wait,” he murmured, breath ghosting over her cheek. And she did.

They lay tangled in the sheets, bodies still trembling with the aftershocks. The room smelled of sweat and skin, of her shampoo clinging faintly to the pillow, of something new and intoxicating between them. Naruto’s breath hitched as she shifted, still sore, still humming from the way he’d wrung her out twice over.

Kakashi brushed damp hair from her face, kissing her temple. “Still with me?”

Her answering sound was a groan more than a word, muffled against his shoulder. “Barely.”

He chuckled low, dragging his fingertips lazily over her hip. “Good. Means I did it right.”

“You’re insufferable.” She cracked an eye open, cheeks flushed even in the dim light.

“Maybe,” His grin wolfish even through the rasp in his voice. Then, softer, as though he couldn’t quite help himself: “You’re more than I ever thought I could have.”

Her chest tightened, warmth curling through her exhaustion. She wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come—just a soft laugh, breathless and shy, before she buried her face in his chest.

Silence stretched, comfortable and heavy, until she felt him shift against her again, unmistakable.

Her eyes flew open. “…you can’t be serious.”

Kakashi’s smirk was unrepentant. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t test the stamina of the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails?”

She swatted his chest weakly. “I’m too tired to even complain.”

“That’s fine,” he murmured, mouth at her ear, voice rough enough to make her shiver all over again. “You don’t have to.”

She groaned, muttering something about him being the worst Hokage imaginable, but she didn’t stop him when he kissed her again. And sometime before dawn, tangled in the sheets and in each other, Kakashi proved his point—Naruto’s last coherent thought before sleep claimed her was that he really was a menace.

------

Naruto stirred with the first threads of sunlight creeping across the room. Every inch of her body was heavy, sore, and satisfied, tangled beneath the sheets that reeked of warmth, sweat, and Kakashi. His arm was still draped over her, weighty and possessive even in sleep, his chest rising steady against her back. She shifted, cheeks burning as the memories of last night crashed into her.

Kurama’s voice slithered in, deep and smug. “After all that, kit, I’d be surprised if you’re not pregnant by tomorrow.”

Naruto’s face went scarlet in an instant. “What the hell?!” she hissed under her breath, clutching the blanket tighter to her chest.

The fox chuckled low, cruel and amused. “Don’t act shocked. You didn’t exactly show restraint. Neither did he. I counted at least three times you begged for more. Not very lady-like.”

Her mortification only grew as she risked a glance at Kakashi, still asleep, silver hair tousled, his face relaxed in a way she almost never saw. She buried her face in his arm to hide her groan.

Kurama didn’t let up. “Look at you, clinging to him even now. You’ll deny it if you want, but your body’s already decided—you’re his. Through and through.”

Naruto squeezed her eyes shut, heat climbing down her neck. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm. Maybe. But tell me I’m wrong.”

Her only answer was a muffled whine into the sheets, because of course she couldn’t.

Naruto buried her face deeper into Kakashi’s arm, willing her ears to stop ringing from Kurama’s smug voice.

“You can pout all you want, kit, but it won’t change the fact he ruined you so thoroughly last night I’m still surprised you can move.”

Her toes curled under the blanket, mortification climbing up her spine. “Stop talking—” she hissed.

The fox’s laugh thundered in her head. “Can’t. It’s too entertaining. And honestly, if you don’t end up pregnant after this, I’ll lose faith in human reproduction.”

Naruto groaned out loud this time, flopping onto her back and dragging the blanket higher over her face.

That small sound was enough—Kakashi stirred beside her. His arm tightened instinctively around her waist before he blinked, half-awake, silver hair a wild halo around his head. His eyes found her peeking from under the blanket, red-faced, lips pressed tight like she was hiding something.

He smirked, voice still rough with sleep. “You’re… loud in the morning.”

Her eyes widened. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly unconvinced, brushing his thumb lazily along her hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. His smirk deepened as he took in her flushed cheeks, the way she refused to look him in the eye. “What’s got you embarrassed already? Didn’t seem so shy last night.”

Naruto squeaked into the blanket, silently cursing Kurama.

Kakashi chuckled low, leaning closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Careful, Naruto. If you keep looking that tempting this early, we’ll never leave this bed.”

Her heart stuttered violently. Kurama purred in her head, smug and merciless. “Round four incoming.”

Naruto slapped the pillow over her face.

Naruto groaned into the pillow, tugging the blanket over her head like it could shield her from the teasing voices in her life—Kurama’s smugness still echoing in her skull and Kakashi’s quiet chuckle vibrating against her spine.

“I’m never listening to you again,” she muttered into the sheets.

Kakashi shifted behind her, his arm winding around her waist to pull her flush against him. His voice was rough with sleep, low and warm against her hair. “That’s a lie. You always listen to me… eventually.”

She peeked out from under the covers, glaring half-heartedly. “You’re too smug in the morning.”

“You make it easy.” He pressed a lazy kiss to her temple, like it was second nature, like he’d been doing it for years.

Naruto’s heart tripped over itself, but she covered it with a pout. “Don’t tell me you’re already planning to gloat about this to the council.”

“Of course not,” Kakashi said smoothly, smiling. “Why would I share? Some things are better kept to myself.” His hand tightened gently on her hip.

She snorted, rolling to face him. Her hair was a wild tangle, cheeks faintly pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

Her laugh burst free before she could stop it, bright and unguarded. For a moment, the world beyond their walls didn’t exist—no council, no missions, no looming duties. Just the quiet morning and the rare luxury of stillness.

Naruto tucked herself under his chin with a sigh. “If we never get up, do you think anyone will notice?”

“They’ll notice,” Kakashi said, brushing stray strands from her face. His eyes softened as he looked at her. “But let’s not give them a reason to come knocking just yet.”

She hummed, then tilted her head, smirking. “…Did I hear it right last night?”

“Which part?”

“You confessed.”

His chuckle was quiet but his pulse thundered in his throat. “Ah. Guess you weren’t so lost in your lust for me after all.” He tapped her nose with his finger, though his gaze didn’t waver. “What—are you going to turn me down now that you got what you wanted from me?”

Naruto pushed at his shoulder, indignant but smiling. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

--

Naruto, drowning in one of Kakashi’s shirts, stirred the pan like she’d lived here forever. The smell of rice and eggs filled the air, masking the faint scent of last night still clinging to both of them.

Kakashi leaned in the doorway, hair damp from his shower, arms folded loosely across his chest. His gaze lingered shamelessly—on her bare legs, on the easy sway of her hips as she moved. “You know,” he murmured, voice deceptively casual, “this is dangerously domestic. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Naruto tossed him a look over her shoulder, lips quirking. “What, the scary Hokage can’t be seen enjoying breakfast made by his fiancée?”

“I was going to say I’ll never let you leave again if you keep this up.”

Her laugh rang bright in the little kitchen. “Possessive much?”

He tilted his head, amused. “You knew that before you kissed me.”

She turned back to the stove, cheeks warm, pretending the eggs needed all her focus. “Yeah, but I didn’t know it would extend to food.”

“Food, time, your smile…” Kakashi pushed off the frame and came to steal a piece straight from the pan, ignoring her swat. “…Pretty much everything.”

Naruto rolled her eyes but she was grinning, and when he bent to press a kiss to her cheek, she didn’t push him away.

------

Plates stacked, counters wiped, and the faint smell of soap lingering on their fingers, the two of them moved around the kitchen like they’d done this a hundred mornings. Kakashi rinsed the last dish, handing it off without a word, and Naruto towel-dried it before plunking it into the rack. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was easy, full of the sound of clinking porcelain and the soft tap of water droplets.

When the sink was finally empty, Naruto hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs idly. Her eyes followed Kakashi as he pulled the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands. “So…” she started, voice deceptively casual, “what are we now? Are we still pretending?”

Kakashi didn’t answer right away. He finished drying his hands with deliberate calm, then looked over at her, one brow lifting in mock patience. “And are you still asking?”

“Yes,” Naruto said firmly. “Because I don’t do well with uncertainties.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him. He set the towel aside and stepped in close, close enough that her knees bumped his chest. His expression softened, voice low and steady. “I don’t plan on keeping the act anyway.” His lips curved as he bent nearer, murmuring against her ear, “Unless that’s your kink.”

Naruto nearly toppled off the counter, sputtering. “What—no, thank you.”

He chuckled, shameless, the sound vibrating against her skin. “So, yeah. No more acting.”

Her face heated, though she tried to scowl. “Why did we even bother?”

Kakashi tilted his head, eyes narrowing with sly amusement. “Well… it was a good trial run. Necessary.” He slid his hands around her waist, tugging her just enough that her thighs pressed against his hips. “And effective.”

Naruto blinked at the sudden closeness, startled—but her body betrayed her, leaning in anyway, heart tripping over itself. “…Very effective,” she admitted, the words catching low in her throat.

Naruto’s admission hung between them, thin as a wire pulled taut. Very effective.

Kakashi’s thumb brushed against her hip, slow and deliberate, and for once, he didn’t bother to mask the hunger in his eyes. The shift made her pulse jump. She could feel it—feel him—looking at her like she was something he’d been waiting his whole life to have.

And suddenly she hated how quiet the kitchen felt, how the words they’d traded weren’t enough.

So she leaned in first. Quick, impulsive—like her—but the kiss was hot, sure, and far too deep to pass as casual.

Kakashi stilled for half a breath, then answered in kind, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other tightening at her waist until she had no choice but to anchor herself on his shoulders. He pulled her flush against him, the counter digging into the back of her thighs, and when they finally broke apart, he was smiling into her breathless grin.

“No more pretending,” she whispered again, lips brushing his.

“Mm.” His voice was a low rumble, dark with satisfaction. “I like the sound of that.”

The towel slipped forgotten to the floor as he pressed his forehead to hers, holding her steady, both of them knowing—this wasn’t trial, wasn’t pretense. It was them.

Kakashi’s lips ghosted hers once more, slow enough to make her shiver. Then, without warning, he bent, hooked an arm beneath her thighs, and lifted her clean off the counter like she weighed nothing at all.

“Kakashi—!” she yelped, clutching at his shoulders, laughter bubbling despite the flush spreading across her cheeks.

He smirked up at her, utterly unrepentant. “Time to move this elsewhere,” he murmured, voice husky enough to twist heat low in her stomach.

“Bossy,” she muttered, but her arms locked tighter around his neck anyway, her grin giving her away.

“Effective,” he countered smoothly.

She tried to protest again, some half-hearted mention of being late for the office, but it broke into a gasp as he carried her down the hall. By the time her back hit the sheets, they were already tangled together, mouths crashing, hands wandering with no patience left.

Somewhere between her breathless laugh and his low groan, the thought of duty and paperwork vanished. There was only the press of heat, the drag of lips and fingers, the delicious ache of wanting despite knowing they’d pay for it later.

And then—nothing but the rush of breath and heat, the world narrowing to this bed, this moment, until the morning was nearly lost to them.

------

By the time they finally arrived at the Hokage’s office, the morning was well underway. Naruto was bright-eyed, hair still damp from a too-quick rinse, while Kakashi looked perfectly composed in that I’m-late-and-I-don’t-care manner.

Shikamaru didn’t bother hiding the way he pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning aloud. “I knew this is how it was gonna end up. Very predictable.”

“Careful, Shikamaru,” Kakashi drawled, already striding to his desk as if nothing were amiss. “You’re talking about the most unpredictable shinobi. She won’t take it well if you call her predictable.”

Shikamaru scoffed, cutting his eyes at Kakashi. “Oh, she’s unpredictable, alright. Consistent. I’m talking about you.”

Naruto chuckled as she made herself at home at the conference table, grabbing the pile of Ame reports she’d dumped on Kakashi last night. She leaned over them with mock-serious focus, clearly enjoying the show.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Kakashi answered mildly, riffling through paperwork.

“Yeah?” Shikamaru shot back, exasperation dripping from his tone. “The moment Naruto proposed the idea, you jumped at the opportunity like you’d been waiting your whole life.”

Naruto looked up then, eyes dancing, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. She said nothing, just watched Kakashi squirm—or rather, not squirm, which was worse.

“You’re imagining things,” Kakashi said smoothly.

Shikamaru turned his glare on Naruto instead. “See how infuriating he is? He’s your responsibility now.”

Naruto laughed, reaching to shuffle another report. “Guess so.”

Silence stretched a beat before Shikamaru finally sighed, muttering as if the weight of the entire village rested on him alone. “So… are we working on wedding plans now?”

Naruto blinked, thrown off guard. “Ah—didn’t really—”

“Well, you’d better decide,” Shikamaru cut in, already half-rising from his chair. “My year’s fully booked thanks to your not-fake-anymore engagement.”

Kakashi and Naruto exchanged a look, her lips quirking, his brow faintly arched.

“We’ll get back to you soon… when we’ve decided on a date,” Kakashi finally mumbled.

“Good,” Shikamaru said, gathering his folders. “If you’re debating—spring or summer’s best.”

Naruto raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Ino says the flowers are best then,” Shikamaru deadpanned. “Do you realize how expensive flower arrangements are? It’s part of the budgeting.”

Naruto just stared, still catching up.

Shikamaru groaned, throwing his hands up. “I’m done. I’m going for a recess.”

“Yeah, do that,” Kakashi replied without looking up.

When the door shut behind him, silence bloomed—and then they both burst into quiet giggles.

“Guess wedding’s the next step,” Naruto said with a smirk.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, lazy eye-smile curving. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The quiet in the office didn’t last long.

Naruto had just stacked the last of the Ame reports when the door creaked open. Tsunade strode in, sharp-eyed as ever, and stopped short. Her gaze flicked once between them—Naruto’s pink cheeks, Kakashi’s very deliberate posture, the way they were standing just a little too close—and she snorted.

“Well, well,” she drawled, arms crossing. “I was wondering how long you two thought you could keep this up.”

Naruto blinked, caught mid-smile. “Keep what up?”

“Don’t bother, brat. At my age, you stop being fooled by games like yours.” Tsunade’s tone wasn’t cruel, just dry, almost fond. “I’ll admit, I was skeptical. Thought it might fizzle out, like most things in this village. But…” Her shoulders eased with a sigh. “No. I see it now. The ending was always going to be the same. Took you long enough to quit resisting.”

Kakashi’s brow ticked upward, amusement tugging faintly at him, though his hand twitched toward his mask. Naruto turned crimson, muttering about people barging in without knocking.

Tsunade ignored her. “That said, congratulations. Finally.”

The word startled them both, but Naruto’s smile bloomed anyway—small, genuine. “Thanks, baa-chan.”

“Mm. Don’t thank me yet.” Tsunade’s voice shifted, just a touch more serious. “If—or when—you end up pregnant, I need to know immediately.”

The air changed. Naruto’s breath hitched, memory flashing sharp and uninvited: masked men, her mother’s scream, a beast’s claws tearing loose. A chill coiled low in her spine.

Kakashi noticed. His hand brushed her shoulder, steadying, his own expression hardening as he inclined his head. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.” Tsunade nodded once, satisfied. “Kurama’s your partner, sure—but pregnancy can strain a seal. Better I’m aware before anyone else is.”

Naruto pressed her lips together, but Kurama’s voice rumbled warm in her mind, sardonic as ever. She makes it sound like I’m waiting to explode. Don’t worry, kit—I’m not letting anyone near you. Not anymore.

Her throat eased. “I know,” she whispered.

Kakashi glanced sideways, recognizing the look, but didn’t intrude.

Then Tsunade cleared her throat, all business gone in an instant. “One more thing.”

Naruto braced. “What now?”

“The wedding.” Tsunade smirked at their twin freezes. “When’s it happening? And don’t play dumb, Kakashi—you’ve been outmaneuvered enough already.”

Naruto groaned, palms dragging down her face. “Kami, not you too.”

“Of course me too. Half the village’s betting pool says you won’t make it to spring.”

Kakashi coughed into his hand, his eye curving dangerously close to laughter. Naruto’s glare only encouraged him.

“Well?” Tsunade pressed.

Naruto finally dropped her hands, cheeks warm but grin creeping through. “Fine. We’ll… talk about it soon.”

“Soon,” Tsunade echoed, dry as ever, but her gaze softened. “Good. Don’t drag it out forever.”

She left them with one last look—half amusement, half fondness—and swept out the door.

Silence stretched, broken only when Kurama snorted in her head. She’s right, you know. The moment you start glowing again, every nosy villager will notice. Might as well get your ceremony in before the gossip mill explodes.

Naruto groaned. Kakashi chuckled, leaning over to brush a kiss to her temple.

“Guess the pressure’s on,” he murmured.

She swatted at him, face still red. “…Shut up.”

Kurama rumbled low, smug. You’re both whipped.

Naruto buried her face in the nearest scroll pile.

The late-afternoon sun spilled across the veranda of the Hatake residence, warming the tatami mats where two half-eaten bento boxes sat forgotten. Naruto leaned back on her palms, hair catching the light, while Kakashi stretched beside her, one knee drawn up, his ever-present book balanced lazily in his hand.

She watched him for a beat too long, then plucked the book away and dropped it on the floorboards. “We’re supposed to be taking a break, not hiding behind your smut.”

He didn’t protest. He just tipped his head toward her shoulder until his temple brushed against it, like the motion had always belonged there.

Naruto snorted, but her hand crept up anyway, threading through his hair, tugging lightly. “You’re way too comfortable for someone who used to spend missions lecturing me about focus.”

“You’ve always been a distraction,” Kakashi murmured, voice so even it took her a second to realize it wasn’t a joke.

Her pulse stuttered, then steadied into something warm. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out softer than she intended. “…Guess I finally weaponized it, huh?”

He turned just enough for his eye to meet hers, silver in the fading light. “Dangerous weapon.”

Before she could quip back, his hand found hers where it rested on his shoulder, fingers fitting with deliberate slowness. The breeze carried the faint scent of grilled skewers from the street below, but neither of them moved to fetch the food.

Naruto leaned in until their foreheads touched, quiet laughter bubbling out of her. “We’re gonna be late again, you know.”

“Mm,” Kakashi hummed, closing the space another fraction. “Perks of being Hokage. They wait.”

–

The sky bled gold into violet, the village bathed in the soft hush of dusk. From the top of the Hokage Monument, the wind carried with it the faint hum of wind and the distant chatter of villagers below.

Kakashi stood alone on Minato’s head, hands tucked in his pockets, the faint evening light catching silver in his hair. His gaze stretched over the village, but his words, quiet and low, were not meant for it.

“I’m not sure if you’d be proud,” he admitted softly. “Or if you’d be disappointed it took this long. But she’s… she’s everything, Minato-sensei. Stronger than you, honestly. Stronger than anyone. And somehow, she still looks at me like I’m enough.”

His throat worked, the wind almost carrying away the next words. “I’ll take care of her. No matter what comes.”

“—You know,” Naruto’s voice cut in, half-teasing, half-shy. “Talking to my dad about me like that makes you sound really, really serious.”

Kakashi startled, shoulders stiffening, but when he turned she was already grinning at him from the edge of the stone, cloak fluttering in the breeze. He hadn’t even heard her approach. Typical.

“You were supposed to be with Yamato,” he said, eye narrowing with a touch of mock reproach.

“Finished early,” she answered easily, padding closer until she stood beside him, gazing out over the same horizon. “Didn’t know I’d be catching you confessing your undying love for me to my old man.”

Color crept along his cheekbones, though he hid it with a huff. “It wasn’t undying love. It was… respect.”

“Uh-huh,” Naruto smirked, elbow nudging his arm. “Pretty romantic for a guy who pretends he doesn’t have feelings.”

Kakashi let her teasing wash over him, eyes softening despite himself. “…He’d be proud of you, you know.”

Naruto’s grin wavered into something gentler. She tilted her head toward the stone visage of her father, the carved eyes staring endlessly into the horizon. For a beat, she was quiet.

Then, quieter still, she murmured, “Hey, Dad… you always said to believe in myself, no matter what. Guess I did. Found someone who believes in me just as much.” Her fingers brushed against Kakashi’s, not quite holding, but close enough that the warmth sank in. “Don’t worry. He’s stubborn enough to keep up.”

Kakashi chuckled softly, the sound low in his chest. He finally closed the distance, his hand curling around hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Naruto glanced at him sideways, lips twitching. “You’re really not gonna argue? What happened to you?”

“I’m saving my energy,” he replied smoothly, squeezing her hand. “You’re exhausting enough.”

Her laugh carried into the twilight, and for a long moment they simply stood there, side by side, as the sun slipped beneath the horizon and the village lights flickered on below.

The silence stretched between them, the kind that wasn’t heavy but expectant, like the Monument itself was listening. Naruto shifted, lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the cool stone, chin propped on her knee as she glanced sideways at him.

“So…” she began, voice casual but eyes sharp, “when did you realize it? That you were in love with me? Before or after our whole fake-engagement mess?”

Kakashi gave a soft huff, somewhere between amusement and exasperation, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t ease into questions, do you?”

“Nope.”

He chuckled, quiet but genuine, gaze wandering back over the glowing rooftops of Konoha. “Honestly? I’m not sure I could draw a line in the sand and tell you, ‘here, this exact moment.’ It wasn’t that clean.”

She tilted her head, curious, but didn’t press.

Kakashi exhaled, thoughtful. “But I do know this—when you came to my house that night, all worked up after your slip with Ame’s council… when you told me you’d let it slip we were engaged.” His mouth curved faintly, though his eyes stayed serious. “When I told you I’d marry you if it kept you from sneaking into Ame every other week—I meant that.”

The humor in his tone dropped away, leaving only the raw weight of his admission. “If pretending was enough to keep you safe, I’d have done it. No hesitation.”

Naruto’s face warmed, but she stayed quiet, listening.

“For a long time, since you were that loud, stubborn genin in orange… no, even before that.” His voice caught, but he steadied it. “When Minato and Kushina died, and you were just… alone. I used to wonder how I could take care of you. What I could do. You grew up so fast—too fast—and I couldn’t keep up half the time. But I thought about it. Constantly. How to shield you. From malice. From corruption. From dangers that never stop circling you.”

Naruto blinked, her throat tight, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I did what I always knew how to do—stay close. Be whatever you needed. A teacher. A partner. A commander. Even a Hokage.” His shoulders slumped slightly, as though confessing a weight. “But fiancé? That was never on the list. Never something I let myself imagine.”

He looked at her then, not flinching from her wide, flushed stare. “And yet… it fit. Perfectly. Like something I’d been circling around without knowing it. Suddenly, every piece I’d been fumbling with… fell into place. I didn’t fight it, Naruto. Not even for a second.”

She swallowed, cheeks burning, heart twisting in ways she couldn’t name.

“Falling in love wasn’t the plan,” he admitted, voice low but steady. “But with you, it was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Naruto ducked her face into her knees, her whole body buzzing with heat that wasn’t embarrassment so much as something softer, sharper. She mumbled into the fabric, “Idiot…” but the fondness in her tone betrayed her.

Kakashi leaned back on his hands, watching the first stars blink into the sky, and smiled quietly to himself.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

What Comes After

The Hokage’s office was already crowded by the time Naruto slipped in, still shaking road dust from her hair. Shikamaru, Ino, Sakura, and now Sai had somehow formed a committee, papers and swatches spread across Kakashi’s desk like an invasion.

“You need to finalize flowers,” Ino declared, jabbing a list. “And music. And the guest seating—”

Sakura crossed her arms. “Don’t forget the vows. And don’t think you can just improvise them, Naruto.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Naruto said flatly, though her grin was anything but.

Sai lifted a sketchbook, perfectly unbothered. “I’ve already drawn several venue arrangements. Here. Option one is large-scale with banners.”

Naruto groaned and dropped into the nearest chair. “Kami save me. Please, please, give me a mission. Any mission.”

Kakashi chuckled behind his clasped hands, the picture of composure while his fiancée drowned in enthusiasm. “As it happens, one just came in.”

Her head snapped up. “Really?”

He nodded, pulling a folder from the stack. “Simple, but important. You’ll be in and out in a few days.” She reached for it like salvation, only for him to add lightly, “Pakkun stays with you.”

Naruto gaped. “No offense to Pakkun, but I literally have the Nine-Tails inside me.”

A low, sardonic rumble stirred in her chest. Hn. Even I agree with the mutt on this one, Kurama muttered.

Naruto’s mouth twitched, torn between laughing and throttling him. Kakashi, oblivious, continued smoothly, “Which means you’ll be doubly protected. I’ll sleep easier.”

Her groan was muffled against the mission file. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm,” he agreed, not bothering to deny it. “But do me a favor and come back soon. I don’t know what to tell them if they start asking me about wedding centerpieces.”

Naruto’s cheeks went scarlet. “Then get creative, Hatake.”

One brow lifted over his eyes. “You know you’re going to take that name in eight weeks, right?”

She almost dropped the folder. “Kakashi!” He only smiled, not hiding it.

_____

Shikamaru slid the report across Kakashi’s desk with a sigh that belonged more to a man fifty years older. “The council’s asking questions.”

Kakashi didn’t even look up from the mission scroll he was reviewing. “When aren’t they?”

“This time it’s about the wedding budget.” Shikamaru’s tone was flat, but his eyebrow twitched in a way that betrayed his irritation. “They expected more. Festive, lavish, a proper showpiece for the village. You know—heroes of Konoha, Hokage spectacle, parade through the streets kind of thing. They’re demanding transparency on the guest list.”

Finally, Kakashi looked up. His eyes narrowed. “Transparency?”

“They want the names. Who’s invited. Who isn’t.”

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was nursing the world’s worst migraine. “Of course they do.”

“Do you want me to draft an official list?” Shikamaru asked, though the resignation in his voice said he already knew the answer.

Kakashi rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, muttering, “Naruto wanted small. Intimate. We’re not handing over our lives for them to rubber-stamp.” He let the chair creak forward again and dropped his hand to the desk. “Draw up a plan to keep the council happy—let them think they’re getting their big, shiny wedding. But the real one? You keep that list short. Never tell them the date.”

Shikamaru exhaled in something between a laugh and a groan. “You realize you’re making me lie to the council, right?”

“Not lie. Strategically edit.” Kakashi’s voice was dry as dust.

Shikamaru pulled out his pencil, tapping it on the parchment. “Alright, then. For the actual list: Iruka, obviously. Our Academy classmates, Gai, Genma, Raidō, Yamato, Sai. Tsunade and Shizune. Gaara and Temari. Ichiraku’s family, Konohamaru.” He glanced up. “No councils.”

Kakashi’s lips curved faintly. “Exactly.”

Shikamaru scribbled notes, then added carefully, “...And Sasuke? He’s around, right?”

Kakashi nodded, no hesitation. “Yeah. He’s nearby.”

“Still shadowing?”

Another nod. Kakashi’s expression flickered just slightly, serious where it hadn’t been a moment ago. “He’ll come.”

Shikamaru gave a low hum, jotting the name last. “Good enough. I’ll draft something flashy for the council and keep this one buried where they can’t touch it.”

Kakashi leaned back again, a little smile tugging beneath the mask. “See, you’re better at wedding planning than you think.”

Shikamaru groaned. “Someone has to if they want this wedding to happen.”

Kakashi only chuckled, turning back to his paperwork. “That's why we aimed for a small one.”

______

The mission road had been long, but not difficult. Still, Naruto set camp before the forest swallowed the last of the daylight, her cloak shrugged over her shoulders as she coaxed a small fire to life. Sparks popped and flared, sending light over the clearing where Kakashi’s pack padded in one by one.

Pakkun, of course, claimed the closest spot to her side, circling once before plopping down with a grunt. “Don’t say I didn’t warn him. Babysitting you is a full-time job.”

Naruto smirked, tugging her bedroll into place. “Oh, please. You like the company.”

Pakkun huffed but didn’t move away, and that was answer enough.

The larger ninken spread out in a loose ring around her, each settling like sentries. Bull and Urushi at the edges, their watchful eyes sweeping the trees. Akino and Shiba curled near the fire, tails twitching with easy alertness. Biscuit nudged his head under Naruto’s hand until she gave in, scratching his ears with a soft laugh.

“You guys take this pack thing seriously, huh?” she murmured.

“We’re Hatake’s,” Pakkun replied, lids drooping. “Means you’re ours, too. Don’t fight it.”

The words sank deeper than she expected, curling warm in her chest. For a moment, she just looked around — at the loyal circle closing her in, at the safety Kakashi had trusted to her when he couldn’t be here himself.

Her gaze lifted to the stars overhead, quiet settling in like a blanket. The mission was progressing well — Ame’s supply routes surveyed, reports nearly ready. No danger yet, no sabotage. Just the steady rhythm of progress.

Still, Naruto tucked herself closer to the fire, the ring of ninken steady around her, and whispered a goodnight to Kakashi under her breath, knowing the dogs would hear it even if no one else did.

---

The door hadn’t even fully swung open before Naruto was mobbed.

“Ino says you still haven’t picked the bouquet style—”

“Table placements are still undecided, and don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to skip out last week—”

“Guest list update: Sai insists on sketching custom invitations—”

Naruto blinked, backpack still slung over one shoulder, a tired smile freezing in place as Sakura, Ino, Shikamaru, and Sai launched into overlapping tirades. Behind them, Kakashi leaned against the wall with his arms folded, eyes crinkled in a suspiciously innocent smile.

Naruto side-eyed him, narrow and sharp. You had one job.

He tilted his head as if to say, What? They’re scary. I’m not interfering.

“Unbelievable,” Naruto muttered under her breath, then louder, “I wish the Toad Sage would just reverse summon me to Mount Myōboku right now.” She rolled her eyes, dragging herself toward the table where fabric swatches and flower sketches had apparently multiplied in her absence. “This is punishment, isn’t it? For all my past lives.”

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Ino huffed, thrusting two near-identical bouquet options under her nose.

“They look the same!” Naruto protested, but she still jabbed a finger at one anyway, because fighting Ino was a war no sane shinobi picked.

Before the debate could resume, Pakkun padded over, hopped onto a chair, and gave the swatches a long, considering sniff. “Go with the lilacs,” he said gruffly. “Better scent. Calmer undertones. Suits her better.”

The room fell silent.

Even Ino blinked, impressed. “Well… he’s not wrong.”

Naruto slowly turned her head, pinning Kakashi with a lethal glare. “…Pakkun even does a better job than you.”

Kakashi had the audacity to look thoughtful, stroking his chin. “He does have a refined palate.”

Naruto groaned, thunked her head against the table, and muttered, “I hate this family already.”

Pakkun barked once in smug agreement.

Kakashi just leaned down, brushed a kiss over her temple, and whispered, “No, you don’t.”

And somehow, amid the chaos and arguing, the two of them caught each other’s gaze and grinned, sharing the one truth they wouldn’t admit aloud—no matter how insane this all became, they were in it together.

—

The house was quiet for the first time in weeks. No Shikamaru with budget scrolls, no Ino waving swatches, no Sai insisting on sketching guests mid-conversation. Just the tick of cooling wood, the soft hum of lamps, and the faint rustle of the ninken shifting in their sleep outside the door.

Naruto sat cross-legged on the couch, hair damp from her bath, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to a thousand questions. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d be a wife. Tomorrow she’d stand in front of everyone, not pretending anymore.

Kakashi padded in from the kitchen, two cups of tea in hand. Shirt loose, hair still damp too. He set one in front of her, then sat beside her with the heavy exhale of a man who’d finally let himself be tired.

“Quiet feels weird now, doesn’t it?” she muttered, cradling the cup in both hands.

He hummed agreement. “Almost suspicious.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the warmth of the tea grounding them both. Then Naruto peeked at him from the corner of her eye. “Are you nervous?”

“Terrified,” Kakashi answered smoothly, which earned him the exact eye-roll he’d been fishing for. But then he softened, gaze settling on her profile. “Not about marrying you. That part’s… absurdly easy. It’s everything that comes with it.”

Naruto’s fingers drummed the porcelain. She didn’t push, but she leaned closer until her shoulder brushed his. “I get it,” she said simply. “But I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

His hand found hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Yeah,” he said, quiet but certain.

They stayed like that—close, steady, not needing more words. The world outside could roar and demand, but here, tonight, it was just them.

Kurama stirred faintly at the edge of her consciousness, voice dry but not unkind: Try not to snore through your own wedding, kit.

Naruto snorted into her tea, and Kakashi gave her a questioning glance. She shook her head, cheeks warm. “Nothing. Just… fox commentary.”

He chuckled, kissed the top of her hair, and murmured, “Then I guess it really is a family affair.”

For once, Naruto didn’t argue.

They didn’t speak much after that. The tea cooled between their hands, the lamplight dimmed, and the ninken outside settled into deeper sleep. Kakashi’s arm stayed draped around her shoulders, her head resting there without complaint. Tomorrow, the world would look different. Tomorrow, everyone else would see them as they already were.

But tonight—just this one quiet night—they let themselves simply be.

The reception was everything they’d wanted. Small, warm, theirs.

No rows of stiff-backed councilors. No speeches from clan heads who barely knew them. No endless public display. Just the people who mattered: Iruka crying into his napkin, Gai weeping loudly enough to drown out the music, Yamato hiding his face in his hands, Temari knocking back sake with a grin, the Ichirakus fussing over Naruto like she was their own.

And Kakashi, of course — caught in the middle of it, letting Naruto drag him onto the dance floor, laughing quietly at her antics, his hand never leaving hers.

It wasn’t about politics. It wasn’t about optics. It was about them.

Which made the crash of the doors all the more jarring.

Konoha’s council swept in, robes heavy, expressions heavier. They looked less like dignitaries and more like furious grandparents who’d just been told the kids eloped.

“You lied to us,” one snapped. “The Hokage, married in secret?”

“This should’ve been a public celebration,” another barked. “The whole village deserved to witness this!”

The room stilled, music faltering. Guests traded uneasy glances.

Then Tsunade threw her head back and laughed. Long, loud, utterly unbothered. “Don’t look so shocked. Of course they tricked you. Did you really think these two were going to let you parade them around like prized horses?”

Naruto snorted, trying and failing to hide her grin against Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi’s arm tightened at her waist, a rare flash of amusement curving his eye.

Sakura, however, wasn’t amused. She shoved Naruto’s wrist into Kakashi’s hand. “Go. Now. Honeymoon. We’ll deal with them.”

Naruto blinked. “What—”

“Don’t argue.” Sakura’s glare could’ve cowed a missing-nin. “You’ve both already outfoxed them. Leave before they try to draft marriage clauses.”

Kakashi needed no further convincing. He tugged Naruto’s hand, and together they slipped out the side door, laughter chasing their heels.

Behind them, the council spluttered. Inside, Tsunade poured herself another cup of sake, clearly entertained.

Outside, Naruto stumbled on the steps, breathless. “We just ditched our own wedding reception.”

Kakashi steadied her, his chuckle warm in her ear. “Technically, we ditched theirs. This one was ours all along.”

Her laugh broke free, bright and unrestrained. She squeezed his hand as they disappeared into the night, the weight of the council left behind like an old cloak finally shrugged off.

The village lights faded behind them, traded for the hush of trees and the scent of cedar. By the time they reached the little hideaway Tsunade had pointed them toward—a secluded inn perched on the edge of a hot spring—the night air was cool and the stars burned brighter than Naruto had seen in months.

The innkeeper bowed them in. No attendants, no scrolls to sign. It was the kind of place that promised privacy, not records.

Naruto exhaled the moment the door slid shut behind them. The tatami floor creaked softly under her bare feet, the faint steam of the spring drifting in through the open screen doors. Beyond, the private onsen shimmered in the moonlight, hot water sending up lazy curls of mist.

She grinned, already tugging her hair loose. “An onsen. Now this is what I call a honeymoon.”

Kakashi leaned against the doorframe, mask pulled down, watching her with that maddening ease of his. “Careful. If you cannonball into it, we’ll both regret it.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not twelve.” Then, with a sly tilt of her head, “Besides, who says you’re invited?”

“Your husband,” he countered, crossing the room with quiet steps until she was caught between him and the screen door. His hand slid down her arm, fingers lacing with hers. “Which, apparently, is me now.”

Her cheeks heated, though her grin didn’t falter. “Guess I’ll allow it.”

They didn’t rush. That was the beauty of it—no council, no missions, no watchful eyes. Just the two of them, easing out of layers of wedding clothes, the air cooling their skin before the spring warmed it again.

The water embraced them in heat, the steam wrapping like another kind of veil. Naruto leaned back against the smooth stone edge, hair damp with mist, watching Kakashi sink down beside her with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like contentment.

“Never thought I’d see the great Copy Ninja relaxing in a hot spring like some regular guy,” she teased, nudging his knee under the water.

He turned his head, one silver lock falling low across his temple, and gave her that slow smile that stripped the world bare. “Never thought I’d see Uzumaki Naruto married to me. Yet here we are.”

Her laugh softened, bubbling up and out before she could stop it. She leaned into his shoulder, his arm sliding around her without hesitation. For once, she didn’t think about what came next, or what tomorrow held. Just this: the warmth of the spring, the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, the quiet joy of knowing that after everything—they were home.

The water was hotter than she expected, licking at her skin until it turned her cheeks pink. Or maybe that was from the way Kakashi looked right now—steam blurring the edges of his sharp lines, the low lamplight glinting off damp silver hair. Relaxed, bare, hers.

Naruto leaned back against the smooth stone edge, letting her eyes wander openly, unashamed. He caught her staring, of course he did, and one brow lifted in quiet amusement.

“What?” he drawled.

She smirked. “Just making sure my husband’s real.”

“Still suspicious?”

“Always.”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, but Naruto didn’t give him the chance to say more. She shifted, sliding into his lap in one smooth motion, water sloshing between them. Kakashi stilled, surprised, his hands automatically catching her waist.

“Brave tonight,” he murmured, voice roughened by the steam and the proximity.

Naruto tilted forward until her lips brushed his ear. “It’s our honeymoon. I’m supposed to be.”

Kakashi inhaled sharply when her mouth trailed lower, grazing his jaw, her hands skimming over his shoulders before settling on his chest. He’d taken his time with her before, careful and reverent, but this time she set the pace. Her kiss was insistent, playful, pulling him into heat before he could gather his usual control.

His groan vibrated against her mouth. “Naruto…”

“Mm?” she hummed against his lips, smirking when she felt his grip tighten on her hips. “Don’t tell me the Hokage’s tired already.”

That earned her a laugh, ragged and dangerous. His eyes glinted, sharp even in the haze. “You’re going to regret provoking me.”

“Good,” she whispered, and kissed him again, full and fierce.

Whatever restraint Kakashi had carried into the water snapped with that. His hands dragged her closer, water be damned, and she gasped into his mouth when he shifted beneath her. Naruto laughed breathlessly against his lips, triumphant, every bit the bold bride who’d decided her wedding night wasn’t ending quietly.

Naruto shifted on his lap until their chests pressed together, water lapping around them. His heat under her, the steady rise of his chest, the sharp line of his jaw—everything about him screamed restraint. And she wanted to tear that apart.

Her hands traced down his chest, pausing at the steady thrum of his heartbeat before sliding lower. Kakashi caught her wrists gently, but his grip trembled.

“Careful,” he rasped, voice thick with warning. “I’m not sure I’ll stop you if you keep going.”

Naruto grinned, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “That’s the point.”

His groan came low, broken, when she freed herself from his hold and brushed her palm deliberately over him beneath the water. His head tipped back against the stone, throat bared, a sound escaping that made heat rush through her belly. She liked this—seeing the legendary Hatake Kakashi unravel for her.

“Naruto…” His hips shifted into her touch before he caught himself, eyes burning into hers. “You really don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She smirked, pressing another kiss to his neck, her teeth grazing his skin.

His restraint snapped. With one swift motion, he lifted her higher in the water, settling her thighs around his hips. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, the steam curling around them as if to shield the intimacy.

He kisses her that stole her breath, deep and consuming, his hands sliding over her back, down to cup her hips. He guided her slowly as he pressed into her, inch by inch, the heat of the water nothing compared to the blaze of his body inside her. Naruto clung to him, forehead falling to his shoulder, a sharp gasp escaping as he filled her.

Kakashi stilled, chest heaving, arms steadying her. “Breathe,” he whispered, lips brushing her temple. “I’ve got you.”

She did, shaky but sure, her body adjusting around him. When she finally lifted her head, eyes storm-bright in the haze, she whispered, “Move.”

And he did.

Slow, steady at first, his hands guiding her, their bodies finding a rhythm in the water. Each shift of her hips drew a groan from him, each stroke from him pulled a gasp from her lips. The sound of the spring was drowned by their breath, their murmurs, the occasional laugh caught between kisses when she teased him.

“K-Kakashi,” she breathed against his mouth.

“Yes, your husband,” he managed, voice raw as her nails raked down his back.

“Honestly,” She wanted to say something but her sanity didn't let her. His lips trailed down her neck, his murmurs hot against her skin—beautiful, mine, always. Each word seared her deeper than the heat of his body.

When she tightened around him, shuddering, his own release tore through him, rough and unrestrained. He held her close, burying his groan against her shoulder as the world narrowed to nothing but water, heat, and the woman in his arms.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, trembling in the steam. Naruto’s cheek rested against his neck, her breath uneven but soft. Kakashi kissed her hair, temple, anything he could reach.

She laughed weakly, still flushed. “How's that, husband?”

He chuckled hoarsely, tightening his hold. “Exactly what I signed up for.”

“Good.”

And when the water finally stilled, when their bodies sagged together in the quiet aftermath, Naruto thought—not for the first time—that this was what home felt like.

Naruto stirred against the futon’s warmth, steam from the outdoor spring still clinging faintly to her hair. Kakashi’s arm was heavy across her waist, his breath steady against her shoulder, and for a blissful moment she allowed herself to just lie there—wrapped in him, wrapped in quiet.

Then Kurama’s voice broke it.
You know he can’t get you more pregnant than you already are, right?

Her eyes flew open. Oh my god—shut it.

I’m just saying. The fox’s rumble was smug, curling around her thoughts like smoke. You told yourself you’d break it to him after the wedding. Well, wedding’s done. What now, kit?

Naruto groaned softly, dragging the blanket over her head like it could muffle him. I only found out a week ago. Give me a second to breathe, would you?

Breathe faster. Morning sickness doesn’t wait on timing. He’s not dumb—he’ll figure it out soon enough.

She rolled her eyes, even if no one could see it. Yeah, and maybe I want him to. But not yet. I get to enjoy keeping this to myself for a little while longer.

Kurama snorted, though the bite was softened. Fine. But don’t stretch it too long. The man’s patient, not oblivious.

Her sigh slipped into the open air this time, quiet enough not to stir Kakashi. She glanced down at him—his hair mussed, maskless, lips faintly parted in sleep. He looked…peaceful. Peaceful enough that she didn’t want to ruin it with news that would send him spiraling into Hokage-mode instantly.

Her hand brushed unconsciously over her stomach beneath the blanket. Two months. Two months, and everything was already different.

Kurama was right—she couldn’t keep it to herself forever. But for now, she let herself sink back into Kakashi’s chest, stealing a few more breaths of secret, borrowed quiet.

By the time he stepped into the house, dusk had already settled over the village. The Hokage’s office had been a circus all day—half the floor buried under scrolls, the other half stacked with wedding presents he had no idea what to do with. Everyone had apparently decided their Hokage and his new wife needed tableware, lacquered sake sets, and enough bonsai trees to start a nursery.

He’d left them there, half-laughing, half-dreading the thought of Naruto unpacking each one like it was a mission.

But as he slipped off his sandals and stepped inside, the air told him something was different.

There was the faintest thread of incense, the warmth of lamps set low, and—he frowned—the unmistakable scent of food. Savory, yes, but layered, deliberate, like she’d put real effort into it. He followed the trail to the kitchen, and stopped dead.

The table had been set with care that neither of them had ever bothered with before—cloth laid out smooth, dishes arranged neatly, a bottle of sake uncorked beside two cups. In the center sat what looked like a small layered cake, but his sharp eye caught the garnish immediately: vegetables, herbs, not sugar. A savory cake. She’d actually remembered he hated sweets.

Naruto stood by the counter, hands folded behind her back, her grin a little too wide.

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “…Alright. Out with it.”

Her grin faltered into something sheepish. “What?”

“It’s not your birthday. It’s not mine. And unless my memory’s finally failing, it’s far too soon for a wedding anniversary.” He stepped closer, gaze flicking from the table back to her face. “So what is it?”

She shifted, chewing her lip, eyes bright in a way that tugged at something in his chest. “You’re impossible, y’know that?”

“Comes with the job.” He crossed his arms loosely, waiting.

Finally, she sighed and reached for him, tugging at his wrist until he stood by her side. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than her smile. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hit harder than any kunai, clean through his ribs and straight to the heart. For a beat, he just stared at her, sure he’d misheard. His throat worked, dry, before he managed, “…How far?”

“Two and a half months,” she said softly. “I found out a week before the wedding.”

A week before the wedding. He let that sink in, every thought in his head scattering and rebuilding at once. Two and a half months. Which meant—his breath caught. Their first night. The one he’d told himself was reckless, selfish, the night he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

And now—

His chest tightened, but not with fear. With something deeper, heavier, like his heart had just decided to double its weight.

“You…” His voice cracked before he steadied it, hand lifting to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing her flushed skin. “You should’ve told me.”

Her eyes flicked away, guilty. “I know. I just…wanted to wait until it felt real. Until I knew for sure.”

Kakashi let out a long, shaky breath, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Naruto…you have no idea what this means to me.”

Kurama would have probably made some snide remark about him looking like he’d been blindsided in battle. But there was no fox here, just her—his wife—and the sudden, staggering truth that they weren’t alone anymore.

His palm slid down, resting over her stomach, reverent, tentative. “You’re sure?”

Her hand covered his, warm, steady. “I’m sure.”

For once, Hatake Kakashi—shinobi, Hokage, survivor of too many wars—felt his knees threaten to give out. He laughed under his breath, breathless. “Two weeks into marriage, and you’ve already outdone every gift anyone could think of.”

She laughed too, watery, burying her face briefly in his chest. “Guess that makes us overachievers.”

Kakashi closed his arms around her, holding her tighter than he meant to. Family. The word whispered itself in his mind, strange and terrifying and so right it almost hurt.

He pressed a kiss into her hair, his voice low, fierce. “Thank you.”

Naruto pulled back just enough to look at him, blinking. “…For what?”

“For this. For trusting me. For… everything.” His mouth curved behind the mask he’d forgotten to lift, his thumb brushing her jaw again. “For making me the happiest fool alive.”

Her grin softened, crooked and bright in that way that had undone him since she was a girl with paint on her cheeks and too much fire in her eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, Hokage-sama.”

His chuckle was hoarse, thick with something he couldn’t quite name. “Happily.”

The table, the dinner, the carefully arranged lamp-light—none of it mattered. Not compared to the fact that his life had just changed in three words.

With her, Kakashi didn’t feel the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. He only felt her hand in his, steady  sure. And the quiet, fragile, extraordinary life they’d just begun to build.

“I love you, Kakashi.”

“My heart can only take so much, Naruto. You should stop.”

“Sure, dad.”

Kakashi snorted, but a smile broke out of his face, anyway. “Relentless.”

Naruto laughed, the sound warm against his collar. “Get used to it.”

She caught his hand and laid it over her stomach. For a beat Kakashi just breathed, palm spread like a vow. Then, soft enough to be ridiculous and exactly right, he murmured, “Hey there. I’m Kakashi. We’re… your very competent parents.”

“Debatable,” Naruto snorted, eyes bright. “But you’ll have backup. Iruka’ll bring books, Gai’s already planning training montages, and the ninken are going to think you’re a puppy.”

“Pack’s ready,” he said, thumb brushing slow circles, the old habit now carrying a new meaning.

From deep inside, Kurama rumbled—less smug than usual, almost fond. Hn. Now, your dad knows. Welcome to the pack, little one.

A breeze pushed the window open a finger’s width. Somewhere outside, a wind chime tapped once; somewhere farther, the village settled into night. Kakashi reached past the sake cups to the small vase by the lamp—lilacs, soft and stubborn, exactly as Pakkun had prescribed—and turned them toward her.

“Predictable,” he said, glancing at the weather-dark glass.

“Unpredictable,” she returned, squeezing his hand.

“Us,” they finished together.

He kissed her knuckles. She tugged him down by the collar. The lamp threw a slow golden halo across the table laid for two—sake cooling, savory cake waiting, the easy clutter of a life they were already building.

Outside, the first light rain began to fall—gentle, ordinary, undramatic. Inside, they stayed where they were, shoulder to shoulder, letting the sound thread the room.

It will be chaos from hereon. The good kind. One that will make it feel like home.

A/N:

So here we are—the end. (…Or is it? 👀)

This fic started as my first real venture into fem!Naruto x Kakashi and it spiraled into fake engagements, monument confessions, council chaos, smut in hot springs, and way too much fun. Writing their dynamic in this way—equal parts tenderness, banter, and absolute menace—has been one of my favorite creative rides ever.

And then there was all of you. Last chapter’s comments? Just emojis. Pure screaming. Feral energy. DEAD/REVIVED/SCREAMING again. Honestly, I’ve never felt so in sync with readers in my life. 😂 SAME.

Now… time for a confession. I actually drafted five more chapters past this. Yes, five. And you know what? They hurt. They hurt me. Enough that I sat there and said, nope—we’re ending it on the pregnancy reveal, happy, soft, safe. A memory to leave untainted.

But… if you’re all truly angst-hungry? If you really want to see what comes next? Then brace yourselves. Because those drafts are pure hurt/comfort, pain laced with love, the kind that guts you before it stitches you back together. If I release them, you’ll bleed with me.

So consider this fic: Complete… unless you dare me otherwise - so then HIATUS.
You want more? Scream loud enough. Prove it. 😏

Where to Find Me Next

Now, since As the Rain Falls wrapped up on a happy note and you’ve suddenly got nowhere else to scream, let me hand you a guide to my delusional KakaNaru multiverse.

• For more fem!Naruto x Kakashi → check out Bound to the Seventh. Hokage!Naruto, married-on-paper to Kakashi (with clauses… or absolutely no clauses 👀). Domestic, political, and still very them.
  
  
• For ABO dynamics → my ABO KakaNaru Spins series. Two long one-shots posted already (independent, out of seven drafted). Yes, I stockpiled ideas during my three-year hiatus. Yes, they’ve been fermenting. Yes, you will get fed now.
  
  
• For “classic” Naruto x Kakashi, as they are → Earned It. Written ten years ago, back when I was ten years younger (don’t do the math 😅). 30+ chapters of angst, slow-burn, pay-off. Honestly, it’ll keep you busy for a week at least.
  
  
• For a brand-new KakaNaru project → Raising a Storm. Fluffy, smutty, domestic, found family… raising kids because why not? And because the YAOI goddess reclaimed my soul and I regret absolutely nothing.
  
  

And, okay, confession time: there’s also a Naruto x One Piece crossover hidden in my “no one needs to know” folder. KakaNaru and ZoLu. With fem!Naruto, fem!Luffy, and… babies. Yep. The chaos starts literally with Kakashi’s and Naruto’s kid ending up on the Grand Line. Very indulgent. Very heavy in crossover lore. Never seen daylight—until maybe now.

So, if As the Rain Falls gave you life, I hope you’ll wander into one of these other corners of my little KakaNaru-verse. Drop a comment on this ending if you survived the ride—I love hearing from you.

See you out there. 💛