Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The thread slid through the leather one last time before the young man snapped it free and tied it off.

He turned it over in his hands, soft brown eyes tracing every stitch. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips—this was a week’s worth of late nights made real.

Beyond the window, a moonless sky stretched wide. Stars shimmered like a fine mist, scattered as though the heavens had spilled light across the world. He’d once been told they were the souls of those who came before—that his family watched over him from up there.

With quiet care, Togusa Kaza boxed the gift and set it aside. The weight of the day pressed down at last, and he collapsed back onto his bed, exhaustion and satisfaction lulling him toward sleep.

But as he lay there, he paused.
Telling himself that tomorrow was just another day didn’t quite sit right.

Because it wasn’t.

Tomorrow was the Day of Light—the holiest celebration in the faith of Raito. The grandest festival of the year.

He’d poured himself into it, just as much as he had into the gift: hours of training, crafting, preparing for the Night of Lights where he’d give his performance before the village. A display of brilliance and chakra and grace. It was showmanship. It was faith. A declaration bright enough to be heard.

Staring at the low ceiling above him, pillow soft beneath his head, he exhaled slowly.
There was something else he was forgetting.
Something just as important.
A third thing.

But no… it couldn’t be more important than the Day of Light.
And it definitely couldn’t be more important than Yamanaka Ino.

So when sleep finally claimed him, he didn’t notice the missing piece.
Didn’t realize that in all his focus on gifts, on faith, on declarations for others—
He had forgotten that the Day of Light
was also his own birthday.

Ino Yamanaka woke early.
The sun hadn't yet crested the horizon when she stepped into the shower, steam curling around her like a whisper. By the time she slipped into her jacket and stepped outside, the air still carried that quiet chill only found before dawn.

She walked to the Yamanaka gardens with practiced ease, her breath fogging slightly as she exhaled.

There, tucked in the corner where she’d been tending them for months, the tulips glowed.

Radiant purple light shimmered softly from their petals—eerie and beautiful against the shadowed earth. The result of chakra infusion, carefully guided, patiently adjusted, week by week. She’d followed the old notes written by Masuki Togusa, Kaza’s grandmother.

The work had paid off.

This glow wasn’t just cosmetic. It was alive. Gentle. Luminous. And it was for him.

Her gift—at least part of it.

As she looked at them, a small smile curved her lips.
She knew him well enough by now.
He’d probably forgotten.

Not out of carelessness. Not even out of modesty.
Just… Kaza being Kaza.

Always putting others first.
Working too hard, pushing himself too far.
Thinking of gifts for everyone but himself.

That was who he was.

A soft chuckle escaped her as she folded her arms.
The smile. That sheer willpower. That kind, quietly stubborn heart that lit up every space he entered.
That was the boy who had stolen her heart—long ago—from the brooding Uchiha who thought silence was strength.

She’d gotten his text yesterday.
“Something big,” he’d said. No other details.

But she had a feeling.
This year’s Festival of Light would be different.
More special than any of the others.
Even more than the year they were thirteen, when he nervously asked her out for the first time.

She pressed her lips together, arms hugging her own ribs, trying not to let her hopes get too high.

Because that was the dangerous part of loving someone like him—
You never asked for grand gestures, but you always knew he might do one.

Still…
Even if things didn’t go exactly as she hoped—
Even if it wasn’t perfect—

She would still have this moment.
She would still have him.

And really, that was enough.

Later that morning, Kaza was already moving.

Wandering, but working—helping set up booths along the main road for the Festival of Light.

“Hey! Togusa!” a merchant called, waving a hand.

Kaza jogged over without hesitation. “What do you need?”

“A board needs placing. Too heavy for one person.”

“I’ve got it.”

He was off again.

Hammer in one hand, sash half-tied, hair already windblown. He bounced from task to task—carrying supplies, straightening lanterns, lifting crates for elders who shouldn’t be lifting anything.

He moved like a storm, but a helpful one.
A blur of motion. Support in motion.

Everywhere at once.

Reckless with his time, generous with his energy.
Putting heart and soul into the day like it was his duty.
Like it was the only thing that mattered.

“Here you are—predictably working hard and handling everything on your own,” a familiar voice cut through the air, half amused, half exasperated.

“Seriously! You're supposed to turn to your friends for help, believe it!” another voice chimed in—louder, brighter, impossible to miss.

A third voice followed, more grounded.
“You know how Kaza-sensei is. Once he focuses, he forgets everything else.”

Kaza turned, a crooked smile already forming on his face.

Standing just down the path were three familiar figures.

Up front, arms crossed with a wide grin, was Naruto Uzumaki, unmistakable with his messy blond hair and signature orange energy—even in civilian clothes.

Beside him, more subdued in a plain gray shirt and pants, stood Shingo Uchiha, hands tucked in his pockets, eyes sharp but relaxed—always watching, always two steps ahead.

And slightly in front of them, dressed in his usual crimson and black, stood Ryuu Saroi, thirteen years old and already intense as a storm held in check. His posture was straight, his tone calm, but there was a spark of something proud behind his eyes.

Kaza’s grin widened.

“Great,” he muttered, half to himself. “The cavalry’s here.”

“Hey, Naruto—want to hear something funny?” Shingo said, casting a smirk toward his friend as they walked.

Naruto raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Shingo jabbed a thumb in Kaza’s direction. “This idiot here? I’d bet anything he forgot it’s his birthday. And he’s out here acting like it isn’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Of course, it’s also Shikamaru’s birthday today. I’m sure Ino’s off handing him her gift before she makes her way here.”

Kaza blinked.

He… really had forgotten.

Heat crept up his face as he looked at the two of them, eyes wide with the slow, dawning realization.

He had been so focused—on the booths, on the gifts, on the festival, on Ino—that the fact he was turning eighteen had completely slipped his mind.

It just… wasn’t where his head had been.

Rubbing the back of his neck, the messy-haired teen gave a sheepish smile.
“Yeah, um… it’s never really been that big of a deal,” he mumbled. “I had stuff to do. Helping out, making sure everything’s ready. And, you know… Ino’s birthday is tomorrow.”

“Of course—thinking with your heart, sensei,” Ryuu said with a small smile.

He stepped closer, voice calm but firm. “But other people think about you, too. We worry about you.”

Kaza looked over at him, caught a little off guard.

Ryuu continued without missing a beat. “I know big brother Junior and Shizuka will be here later to support you. And honestly? I’m pretty sure everyone else will be too.”

He gave Kaza a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“So just tell us what needs to be done—and we’ll try our best.”

“Wow,” Naruto said, crossing his arms like he was about to deliver a great philosophical truth. “Imagine forgetting your own birthday but remembering everyone else’s.”

He leaned slightly toward Shingo. “Bet he even remembered Choji’s cat’s adoption day.”

Shingo didn’t skip a beat. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Kaza’s the type to send it a handmade card and a blessing from the Shrine of Light.”

Naruto barked a laugh. “With little paw prints stamped on it.”

“Glows in the dark, probably.”

Kaza held up a hand like he was stopping traffic, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Okay, okay, point made. I walked right into that.”

“Yeah you did,” Naruto grinned.

“But seriously,” Kaza continued, his voice leveling out, “we’ve still got work to finish. Ryuu—run checks on the lantern lines along the north booths. Shingo, take the lower plaza, make sure the support frames are steady. If they so much as shift in the wind, we’ll have complaints all night.”

“And me?” Naruto tilted his head with mock offense.

“You,” Kaza said, “are crowd control. Keep the kids from running through the setup before it’s ready. You're the only one loud enough to stop a stampede with enthusiasm alone.”

Naruto puffed up like he'd just been promoted. “You got it!”

Kaza turned to move, but paused long enough to glance back at them. “Thanks. Really.”

Shingo shrugged. “Don’t thank us until the booths don’t collapse.”

Ryuu gave a slight nod, already heading off.

Naruto cupped his hands around his mouth. “And maybe remember your birthday next time!”

Kaza didn’t respond. He just kept walking, ignoring the comment, but as he walked, his face was quite red, as he felt a twinge of embarrassment at his error.

At the same time, Ino balanced a small box under one arm as she knocked on the Nara household door. She waited a few seconds before it creaked open—but the person who appeared wasn’t who she expected.

Blue eyes met Yoshino’s warm expression.

Ino had known her since childhood. Shikamaru’s mother: sharp, firm, always keeping both father and son in line like it was second nature. A presence more than a personality.

“I came by to drop this off. I’m guessing Shikamaru isn’t home?” Ino asked, lifting the box slightly. Inside was a gift for her teammate, her friend, someone who’d known her since their days in the academy.

Yoshino accepted it with a quiet, genuine touch. “Thank you, Ino,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Temari came in yesterday. Took him out for the night.”

She paused, looking just past Ino’s shoulder like she was seeing something years away.

“Seems like my boy’s got another woman in his life now—someone else to keep him in check,” she added, letting the silence stretch just a beat longer. “And I couldn’t be happier. That Temari girl… she’s good for him.”

“She is,” Ino said, giving a small nod. She’d always known Nara men didn’t stand a chance against strong-willed women. That pattern practically came baked into the clan.

“I’ll swing by again when he’s around. Or I’m sure he’ll track me down tomorrow, pretending he forgot and trying to pass it off like he didn’t.”

Yoshino gave a short laugh. “Eighteen already, huh? Time doesn’t slow down for anyone.”

She shifted her weight, one hand resting on her hip. “Well, you look like you’ve got other plans. Judging by that dress.”

Ino smiled with a touch of sheepishness, reaching up to rub her neck. The dress was tailored, deep violet, elegant without being overdone. It drew attention. That wasn’t an accident. But today, she only wanted to draw the attention of one person.

“I’ll see you later,” she said, stepping back with a wave before turning away.

She didn’t need to wonder where Kaza was. There was only one place he ever went on this day. The Festival of Light was always held at the Togusa shrine—just outside the edge of town, surrounded by trees and history.

And he would be there.

Like always.

She walked down the path at a steady pace, eyes scanning ahead as the first signs of the festival came into view. It was a beautiful day—the kind that felt like it had been saved just for this.

People were already making their way out: families, couples, solo wanderers. The road would soon be lined with booths. Some would be selling handmade crafts, others stocked with merchant goods from across the region. There would be food carts, games, crowds laughing too loud, and someone inevitably trying to haggle over steamed buns.

Ino smiled at the thought.

She knew the usual suspects would be there—Naruto, Chouji, Shingo, Lee, Sakura. Even Lord Kakashi, who was finally settling into his role as the Sixth Hokage after dancing around the title for far too long.

Her steps didn’t slow, but her thoughts shifted.

She had a plan.

Getting Kaza away from the shrine wouldn't be easy. Not today. But she was going to do it anyway.

The first step was simple: bring him to the garden, show him the flower she'd raised for months—the one glowing with chakra and intent. Spend time with him. No interruptions.

Then he could come back for his little performance, the one he always insisted on calling no big deal, even though it clearly meant the world to him. Watching him try to play it off as casual never failed to make her melt.

And after that… the second gift.

The one he didn’t know was coming.
The one she hadn’t told anyone about.
The kind of gift that kept you up all night—and left no regrets behind.

Her smile widened as the shrine’s rooftop came into view through the trees.

This time, she wasn't just showing up.
She was ready.

She stepped through the western gate, sandals brushing over the worn path as she entered the grounds surrounding the Togusa shrine. The air smelled faintly of wildflowers and warm soil.

The shrine grounds were ancient—older than Konohagakure itself. The main structure stood proudly on a low hill, crafted from polished wood and streaked marble that caught the morning sun just right. Its architecture was humble in shape but radiant in presence.

All around it stretched a field of blooms—untamed, yet clearly cared for. The legacy of the Togusa clan lived in those flowers as much as the shrine walls.

Off to the right, about a mile out, sat the old family home. She knew Kaza still lived there. Normally, she could catch a glimpse of it from here, past the trees and gentle slope.

But not today.

Today, the colors of the festival blocked everything else. Booths spilled out across the hillside like a ribbon of activity. People moved between them with easy smiles—laughing, sampling food, calling out greetings.

It was noisy, vibrant, full of life.

And somewhere in that tide of motion was the one she came for.

Ino stood near the gate, one hand resting on her hip, scanning the grounds for any sign of messy brown hair and a too-serious face hidden behind the work of celebration.

The ninja-priest of the hour.

Togusa Kaza.

Looking around, Kaza let out a slow breath. The tension that had been following him all morning finally eased from his shoulders. The crowd was lively. People were smiling. No one looked stressed or overwhelmed.

Naruto was off to the side, surrounded by a group of kids, spinning a wild story that probably involved ramen and explosions. Shino stood nearby, calmly explaining rhinoceros beetle tracking techniques to a pair of wide-eyed genin. Lee, energetic as ever, demonstrated punching drills like he was about to lead a battalion.

It felt… safe to relax.

For once, it didn’t feel like everything had to fall on him. Everyone was giving their all, and somehow it was enough. The Day of Light had become exactly what it should be—joyful, bright, shared.

He turned toward the entrance, more out of instinct than direction, half-ready to offer help to anyone walking in late.

But then he saw her.

Before he registered anything else—before the gate, the hill, the sounds of the crowd—it was her.

She stood just beyond the path, framed by festival colors and sunlight. That purple dress didn’t belong to the village or the festival; it belonged to something higher, something intentional. And the way she wore it, without pretense, without even looking in his direction—it stopped his thoughts cold.

She hadn’t seen him. She was scanning the grounds, eyes steady, clearly looking for someone—him, if he had to guess. But she hadn’t noticed him yet.

And still, his breath caught.

No logic could explain the way she affected him. No argument could dull the rush in his chest or the way his fingers trembled slightly at his sides.

She hadn’t even looked at him, and somehow she already had him.

He didn’t wait. The moment felt too alive to hesitate.

“Ino!”

He called out, loud enough to carry over the crowd. Not shouting, but enough to make sure she'd hear.

The one voice she would always recognize.
Because she was the one person whose attention he never wanted to lose.

She heard his voice before anything else.

Clear, confident, cutting through the noise—not in a commanding way, but in a way that carried weight. A voice that had always made her turn.

She didn’t need to think. She turned.

There he was.

Messy brown hair catching the light, festival colors framing him like the world was trying to match his presence.

He looked tired. He always did when he worked himself into the ground. But there was something else in his expression. Something warmer.

He was already walking toward her.

For a second, her mind flicked through everything she had planned. The timing, the garden, the gift, the moment she’d been building toward. All of it felt suddenly more real now that he was standing there, closing the distance, that same look in his eyes she’d seen a hundred times before—but still wasn’t used to.

He didn’t speak right away. He didn’t need to.

Neither did she.

She stepped forward, meeting him halfway—not in some symbolic gesture, but because that was always how it had been between them.

When the silence settled, she lifted the box slightly, the one she'd brought just for him.

“Walk with me?”

Not a command. Not a request.

Just the beginning of what mattered most today.

Chapter Text

Much later that day, Kaza stepped down from the platform at the front of the shrine, sweat pouring from his forehead. He had pushed everything he had into the show—his Dance of Light, the small orbs trailing behind his fingertips, weaving across the sky like a living constellation. Each movement deliberate. Each shift matched to his voice, reciting the same words he offered every year—only slightly changed, shaped by his thoughts of the season. The blessing of Raito, God of Light, for all creation.

As he pulled back, he swiped the sweat from his brow, breathing hard. The thought of heading home tempted him—just for a moment—but he remembered the promise he’d made that morning, when he and Ino had walked together through the booths.

He moved forward, scanning the crowd. She had wanted to show him something—something special.

It didn’t take long.

There she was. Still in that same purple dress, radiant beneath the festival lights. Beautiful. Effortless. The fabric caught her shape in ways that always made his breath stumble, and he never could look away. His attraction to her wasn’t some passing thing. It was complete. Absolute.

He stepped toward her, then another. Kaza closed the distance, drawn in by the curve of her smile, lifting a hand as he neared.

“I hope I lived up to your expectations tonight,” he said, voice low but earnest. “I try to put a little more into it every year—so the people who come don’t leave with empty hands.”

“You did more than that,” she said, her voice quiet but certain, like truth spoken in passing.

“It’s not just the lights, Kaza. It never is. People watch because it means something. Because you mean something. They feel it—you pulling everything out of yourself just to give them a moment that glows. They remember it. And they come back because of you.”

Her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the box she still carried, but she didn’t offer it yet. Not yet.

“That’s what I came to see. Not perfection. Not performance. Just… you. The way you always are when you think no one’s watching.”

A pause, light as breath.

“And yes,” her lips tilted, the edge of a smile blooming like something secret, “I’ll admit the extra sparkles didn’t hurt.”

“Good,” Kaza said, rubbing the back of his neck, the movement sheepish without trying to be. “I’ve… been working on that for a while, you know.”

He let out a breath—steadying more than anything—then looked back at her.

“So, uh… Ino—what was it you wanted to show me?”

“Oh, that?” Her grin came easy, confident on the surface, but there was a flicker beneath it—nerves dressed up like bravado. “Come on, birthday boy. That’s part of your gift. And we’ve got to get there before midnight.”

Not everything about this plan was solid. Not everything about tonight was guaranteed to land the way she wanted. But she was betting on him. On this. And she wasn’t about to back down now.

The walk stayed quiet. Kaza noticed the way she moved, unhurried, purposeful, but without that usual spark of commentary or playful pride. No teasing, no buildup. Just silence. The kind that carried weight. Like a silent prayer to Raito, asking for something delicate to hold.

They reached a small hill, tucked just behind one of the Yamanaka flowergardens—familiar ground, but not often used. The space felt halfway between public and secret, touched by care but not ceremony.

“Now, if this doesn’t work,” she said, voice tilting somewhere between humor and hesitation, “the thought is what counts, right?”

The words came light, but the pause that followed said more.

This had been a risk from the start. The plan was simple enough, sunlight absorbed during the day, chakra-fed roots storing what they could. Then at night, if everything held, the tulips would respond. Glow.

Not a trick of color. Not a technique. Just honest light, blooming violet through the petals, soft and steady.

It was hers, her idea, her labor, her answer to a legacy that began with Masuki Togusa. A new flower for the same line. A quiet offering meant for only one pair of eyes.

His.

He didn’t answer at first.

There were words—somewhere—but they moved slow, caught behind the weight in his chest and the burn rising behind his eyes. Not because the flowers were perfect, though they were. Not because they glowed. But because she’d done this. For him. For his family. For the legacy he carried like breath.

He stared out at the light, every inch of him wrapped in it, and all he could think was how rare it was to be seen this clearly.

This wasn’t just beauty. It was understanding. Rooted deep.

His hand found hers without thought, fingers threading through instinct. The kind of gesture he didn’t usually allow himself—but tonight wasn’t usual. Not after this.

“…It’s perfect,” he said, voice lower than usual, like it might break if it went any higher. “It feels like them. Like something they’d have made… but it’s also yours.”

The pause stretched, but it wasn’t empty.

“I don’t even have words, Ino. Just—thank you. For this. For all of it.”

And then, quieter still, like a promise whispered into the dark:

“I won’t forget it. Not ever.”

“Good,” Ino murmured, gaze lifting toward him. “I never want to be forgotten.”

The way he stood there—still half-lit by the purple haze, wrapped in those simple shrine robes—said everything she already knew. Family meant everything to him. So these flowers… they mattered too.

He was still looking out over the hill when he spoke again.

“I guess that’s true,” he said slowly, voice a little rougher now. “I guess… I should give you your first gift, Yamanaka Ino.”

Then he turned, just enough to step back from where she leaned on him.

“This felt like the right moment,” he continued. “Even if I was going to save it. You know how I am with timing.”

Ino blinked, something shifting as she tilted her head—half confused, half aware of the way the wind changed just then, brushing cold across her arms like it was carrying something heavier than air.

His hand slipped inside the folds of that white, teal, and purple robe—his shrine colors, the same ones he always cleaned with quiet reverence—and then he moved.

A single, deliberate motion.

Down to one knee.

Her breath caught sharp, her heart thudding against ribs like it didn’t know what to do with itself. It didn’t feel real. Not at first.

Until his eyes met hers.

“Yamanaka Ino,” he said—no stumble, no second-guessing, just that steady voice of his, the one that never broke once he believed in something. “Will you be my wife?”

The world didn’t move.

Not the trees. Not the sky. Not the wind curling through the grass. Everything just… paused. Like even time was waiting to see what she'd do.

She could feel the warmth of the tulips behind her and the quiet weight of the moment pressing in from all sides. Her name still hung in the air, wrapped around that question like it had been made just for her. Not asked because it was time, or expected, or convenient—but because it was the moment. And he’d chosen it.

Of course he had.

This wasn’t a boy fumbling for a future. This was a man offering a place beside him—in the shrine, in the clan, in the light.

Her heart didn’t flutter. It burned.

This was the same idiot who forgot his birthday because he was too busy making sure the lanterns were straight. The same boy who tried to play off a divine chakra light show as “no big deal.” The one who always noticed her silence before her words. Who let her be loud and wrong and sharp-edged without ever making her feel like she had to soften to be worthy.

And now he was here. Kneeling in the purple glow of something they made together. Asking her, with absolute certainty, to stay.

Her answer was already in her hands, in the flowers, in the hours she’d spent doubting and daring and deciding to believe that maybe—just maybe—love could look like this.

A grin pulled at her lips before her mouth could form anything else.

Because of course it would be him.

And of course her answer was yes.

Always had been.

“Of course I accept. I accept with my whole heart.”

The words came steady, grounded—not a reaction, but a truth she already knew. No hesitation. No flicker of doubt. Just the kind of certainty that lived in her bones.

The smile that broke across his face wasn’t showy or loud, but it stretched wide enough to say everything anyway. Something in it looked undone, like the universe had just handed him the one thing he'd never asked for out loud but had always wanted.

“Well… I hope this works for now,” he murmured, reaching forward with a motion that held none of his usual nerves. Just reverence.

The ring caught the glow of the tulips as he slipped it onto her hand—gold band, one amethyst stone, one blue topaz, and a single diamond tucked between them. A quiet echo of light and sky and memory. Every stone chosen, every part deliberate.

“This one’s the smaller gift,” he said finally, still holding her gaze. “The other’s just as good, I think.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, voice dipping into something a little lighter.

“But turns out you can’t really stuff a handmade dress into shrine robes. Tried. Bad idea.”

And just like that, the weight of the moment softened—never undone, just made warmer.

Fingers traced over the band, not trembling, but slow—like she was letting her skin memorize the weight. The stones shimmered under her breath, each one holding its own kind of light, her hand no longer just hers now.

She didn’t speak right away.

There was too much in her chest for that. And if she let it all out at once, it might unravel the moment before she’d had her fill of it.

Instead, she tilted her hand slightly, watching the way the gems caught the purple glow still rising off the flowers. It was overkill. It was dramatic. It was him, in the best way.

“A dress, huh?” The words came with a half-laugh tucked inside. “You mean to tell me I nearly had a shrine priest walk into a sacred festival with a train of silk dragging behind him?”

Her eyes sparkled with something playful and sharp, not to cut but to ground him—because even now, even in this moment, he still needed someone who'd keep his head from floating too far off.

“I’m almost disappointed,” she added, tone dry but affection curling beneath every syllable. “That’s exactly the kind of entrance I would’ve remembered forever.”

The teasing faded just a little at the edges as her thumb brushed over the topaz.

“…But I think this works.”

“Good. You said you had a second gift?” he asked, glancing up at her again, only half-expecting an answer.

She didn’t answer right away.

Not with words.

Just that look—the one she always used when she was about to win. Slow, steady, knowing. The kind that made his breath catch before his thoughts could finish forming.

Her weight shifted ever so slightly where she stood, that purple dress moving just enough to remind him how well it fit—and how carefully it had been chosen. Not for the festival. Not for the crowd. For him.

“Oh,” she said, lips curving like she’d been holding this moment in her pocket all night, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

A pause. Measured. Unrushed.

“Turns out the second gift’s a little harder to wrap,” she added, voice low and velvet-edged, “but I’m wearing it anyway.”

The wind moved again—light, cool, unnoticed by either of them.

“You’ll get to open it,” she whispered, leaning in just enough for only him to hear, “after midnight.”

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Which, to her, was answer enough.

And as she turned, heading back down the hill toward the glowing path of violet light they’d walked together, she didn’t need to look back to know he was following.

Of course he was.

Tomorrow might be her birthday.
But tonight?

Tonight was already theirs.