Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Minato’s eyes snapped open the moment he sensed his daughter’s chakra flare. He Hirashined to his daughters room without consciously realizing what he was doing, the kunai that he always slept with under his pillow already in his hand and scanning for intruders. 

Then he paused, blinking. His daughter was sitting straight up in bed, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Alone. 

Slowly, he relaxed, tucking away the kunai sheepishly. “Hi, Reika-chan,” he said awkwardly, trying for a smile. “Bad dream?” 

Reika didn’t say anything. She just continued to stare. Her fingers trembled slightly. 

The smile slid off his face, replaced with concern. He took a step towards her, freezing in place when she flinched. 

“T-tou-san?” she said hesitantly. Her voice was small and raw, and it broke his heart. She stared up at him, her eyes round and filled with a desperate, clawing sort of hope. 

“Yeah?” Minato said gently. He wanted so desperately to go to her, but the way that she’d flinched earlier…

“Are - are you real?” she whispered. 

His everything hurt. “Reika-chan, can I hug you?” he asked, because everything inside him was screaming to go to his daughter, to hug her, to reassure her that yes, he was real, he was here and wasn’t leaving - 

“O-okay.” 

He was next to her in an instant, wrapping her up in his arms, feeling her small form - she was still so small - tremble against him. She pressed her ear over his chest, and Minato ached as she listened to his heartbeat. 

“I’m here, Reika-chan,” he whispered soothingly. “Tou-san’s here.” 

~

He wasn’t sure how long he spent like that. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, but even in sleep she wasn’t calm. It was a fitful rest - she whimpered and tossed and turned, and it hurt. She hadn’t spoken about what had woken her up, though from her reaction to him, Minato could guess. 

She woke up barely two hours after falling asleep. Shock crossed her eyes when she saw Minato, before she blinked and it was replaced by worry. 

“Where’s kaa-san?” 

Minato frowned. “She’s on a mission, remember?” he prompted. “She should be back next week.”

He hated the way her hands curled desperately into his shirt. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” he soothed. “Kaa-san’s strong.”

Reika bit her lower lip, nodding. “Okay,” she whispered. She averted her eyes. “Thanks for staying.” 

Minato kissed the top of her head. “Of course. Do you want to talk about it?” 

She froze. Fear, horror, and something that looked disturbingly like terror crossed her face. “No,” she said instantly. 

“Okay,” Minato soothed. “That’s okay. Wanna try to go back to sleep?” 

She shook her head, visibly calming. “I… I need to train,” she said. 

He blinked at her. “... Train?” he echoed feebly. “It’s… it’s half past two. In the morning.” 

Reika blinked back. “You should sleep, then,” she said.

He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “And leave you to train alone?” He scoffed, rolling out of bed. “C’mon, then, Reika-chan.” 

She blinked a second time, taken aback, before nodding. “Okay.” 

~

Reika went through her usual physical conditioning routine. Well, usual in that the movements were the same. The only difference was - 

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard?” 

Reika blinked at him blearily. She was trembling with exhaustion, and Minato felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t have let her go so far, but he’d thought she’d stop on her own. 

“I need to get stronger,” she said. 

“For what?” he asked. “You’re three, Reika-chan. You have time.” 

Reika ignored him as something seemed to occur to her. “I want to enroll at the Academy,” she said. 

Minato felt off-balance. “I - I thought we’d agreed to wait until you were six,” he said weakly. 

“I want to enroll now,” she said, more firmly. “I can take it.” 

He ran a hand through his hair helplessly. “Reika-chan -” 

“Please?” 

“I-”

“I need to get stronger,” she repeated quietly. Her eyes were shadowed, old in a way they hadn’t been yesterday, old in a way that looked out of place on her young face. Minato couldn’t help but think he’d missed something.

He hesitated. “Let’s discuss this with your mom.”

Reika nodded, shoulders loosening. “Okay.” She looked up, her bright blue eyes - the exact same shade as his - brightening slightly. “Can you teach me how to throw shuriken?” 

“You’re still shaking from your exercises,” Minato said weakly. 

She frowned at him, then at her trembling hands, as if disappointed in herself. “Oh. In five minutes, then?” 

“... Okay.”

~

Reika was staring at him. 

She’d shown a stunning proficiency at shurikenjutsu, but had eventually worn herself out to the point of exhaustion, at which point Minato had put his foot down and told her to go to bed. She had, only to wake up five hours later and head right back out to the yard to practice some more. Somehow, she hadn’t woken him - when had her footsteps become silent? - and he’d instead woken to the sound of cooking. 

He felt a slight pang at the thought. Normally they cooked breakfast together when he was home - Minato always woke when Reika did, if not earlier, and the idea that she’d woken before him and gone through their morning routine on her own was… disquieting. 

She’d told him when he’d entered the kitchen that she just wanted to let him sleep a little longer since she’d woken him during the night, but… well. He couldn’t help but feel off-balance around his daughter. There was a strange tension in the air. Normally, Reika would chatter to him about what she wanted to do that day, and he’d nod along indulgently, but this morning, she was silent. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. “Reika-chan,” he said, meeting her eyes before she could pretend she hadn’t been staring. “What’s wrong?”

Reika blinked at him, something rueful hovering in the twist of her mouth. “I just had a nightmare last night,” she said quietly. “It was… bad.” She averted her eyes, but not before he saw the blue darken. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Minato prompted tentatively. 

“I… I dreamed you died,” Reika whispered, staring at her breakfast. She was very, very still. “You and kaa-san. And I couldn’t do anything to save either of you.” Her grip on her chopsticks tightened. “I was too weak.”

Minato’s heart ached. “Is that why you want to go to the Academy early?” 

She nodded. 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. Suddenly, he hated his profession - why had he even chosen to become a shinobi in the first place? What was the point of keeping his home safe if his own daughter didn’t know if he’d come back? “I can’t promise not to die, but I can promise to do my best to come home.”

Reika didn’t meet his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. 

Minato hesitated. She didn’t look like she felt better at all, but he didn’t know what else he could say. He hated how helpless he felt. 

“What would make you feel better?” he asked. “More training?” 

Reika looked up, a spark of hope in her eyes. She nodded. 

“Okay,” Minato said quietly. “Okay. If it’ll help you feel better. But no going past your limits, okay?” he said sternly. “And no more training unsupervised. Deal?” 

“Yes,” Reika said immediately. “Deal.”

~

Reika kept her word, but she didn’t go back to her old self. She’d always been enthusiastic about training, but now, it was like that enthusiasm had turned into grim determination. She wasn’t training because she enjoyed it - she did it because she didn’t see any other option. 

Minato oscillated between hesitating acceptance and downright misery. He didn’t understand how one nightmare could’ve changed his happy-go-lucky daughter so much - that wasn’t normal, was it? But at the same time, would it be better for Reika in the long run if she didn’t see the shinobi arts as a game? 

He didn’t know. He desperately wished Kushina was here, so he’d at least have someone to talk to or commiserate with. 

Not only that, but the speed at which Reika picked up his teachings seemed to have increased. She’d always been a good student, but now she seemed to have ramped everything up a notch. Before, she’d picked things up as quickly as he once had, and he’d never been a slouch by any means - some had called him a prodigy, but Minato had always been embarrassed to call himself that. 

Reika, though, learned even faster than he had. Not that she was perfect immediately - she seemed to know intuitively what to do, but had trouble getting her body to obey - but the speed at which she improved was downright humbling. He was undeniably, inexpressably proud of her, but at the same time, it terrified him. 

He himself had graduated the Academy in two years, heading out right into the Second Shinobi War as a seven-year-old genin. Reika, though, he felt could probably graduate in less than half that time. If she got her way and began the Academy next year, when she turned four… that’d make her a five-year-old genin. And if the rising tensions amongst the villages continued, she’d graduate into a war, too. He hated the idea of dying before her, but he hated the idea of outliving her more. 

~

Minato and Reika were training with kunai when Minato felt the distinctive whirlpool chakra of his wife enter the edges of his awareness. She was in the Hokage’s office, probably giving report, but Reika caught his change in posture all the same. 

“Is Kaa-san home?” she asked, her eyes brightening with hope, and Minato smiled at her a little ruefully - it was embarrassing to have been caught by a three-year-old. 

“She’s in the Hokage’s office,” he told her. “Want to meet her when she gets out?” 

Reika nodded vigorously, straightening out of her stance and tucking her kunai into her pouch. Minato felt some part of him relax - there were things that could distract Reika from her training after all. He grinned brightly at her. 

“Want a piggyback ride?” 

She blinked at him, looking surprised. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can walk.” 

He drooped. Was his little girl really getting too old for piggyback rides? She’d loved them just last week, but then… that’d been Before-Reika. Reika-before-the-nightmare. Post-nightmare Reika probably didn’t even like piggyback rides anymore. Minato felt his eyes prickle with tears at the thought - had he really already given his baby her last piggyback ride? He would’ve cherished it more, had he known. He blinked rapidly. 

“Nevermind,” Reika said hurriedly. “If you really want to, I’m okay with a piggyback ride.” 

Minato perked up. Reika was looking at him, a slight curl at the edges of her lips. He pouted at her. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he complained. 

She grinned up at him unabashedly. “Yep!” 

He sighed despairingly. “When did my adorable daughter get so cruel?” he wondered aloud. 

Reika giggled. “Silly,” she said fondly. “Are we going to see Kaa-san or not?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Minato sighed theatrically, but secretly, he was so relieved he thought he might fall over. This was the happiest he’d seen his daughter since the nightmare. 

He knelt on the ground, and Reika clambered onto his back. He hooked his hands under her thighs and hefted her up, smiling slightly at the warm weight of his baby girl behind him. 

He’d savour this piggyback ride. It might be her last one. 

~

Minato walked to Hokage Tower, feeling far too smug at the fond looks his daughter garnered. She was the cutest kid in the world - he was glad others recognized it. Reika, for her part, could hardly stay still. He’d moved her to his shoulders after the fifth time she’d detached her arms from around his neck to wave at a passerby, and now she was sitting comfortably on his shoulders, one hand tangled in his hair and the other in a perpetual wave. 

They loitered outside Hokage Tower for a bit, no longer than a few minutes that felt like an hour with the way Reika was fidgeting. Honestly, Minato was even more relieved - it was nice to see her act like a kid again. 

Then the door to the Tower opened, and Minato felt himself light up at the sight of his gorgeous, brilliant - 

“REIKA-CHAN! PRETTY BOY!”

- incredibly loud wife. 

He winced, ears ringing, then let out a girlish shriek he’d deny ever producing when Reika used his shoulders as a springboard to bodily jump through the air and tackle Kushina right in the chest. 

“Oof,” Kushina wheezed, squeezing Reika in a hug more out of habit than anything before lifting her up by the armpits in front of her like a naughty puppy. “Reika-chan, what was that?! Were you that excited to see me, ‘ttebane?” 

Reika grinned unapologetically and waved, still dangling midair. “Hi, Kaa-san,” she chirped. “You should get out of the way, you’re blocking the door.” 

Kushina snorted but moved all the same. “Yeah, wasn’t expecting to get attacked in my own village.” She gave Reika a mock-dirty look. 

Reika just beamed. “I missed you!” 

Kushina tried to look stern before the expression melted into affection. “Aww, I missed you too, Reika-chan.” She cuddled their daughter for a moment, swinging her from side to side as Reika’s legs continued to dangle. 

Minato walked over, unable to stop his smile. “That was dangerous, Reika-chan,” he chided mildly. 

“You’re teaching me how to throw shuriken and kunai and you think a little jump is dangerous?” Reika’s voice was dry as the desert, but the effect was undercut by how it came out muffled from her face being pressed to Kushina’s neck. 

Kushina blinked at him, tilting her head. “Kunai and shuriken?” she echoed. “That’s new.” 

Minato winced. “Yeah, there’ve been some… changes,” he said lamely. Kushina examined him for a moment before nodding, understanding that they’d talk later. Then her eyes trailed down to his shoulder, and she snorted. 

“Pfft- she got you good, didn’t she, Pretty Boy?” she snickered. 

Minato paused, then glanced down. On each shoulder there was a small dusty white footprint, exceedingly visible against his dark blue shirt. 

He sighed. 

~

After dinner, and after Reika was in bed, Kushina turned to him. They were sitting on the couch in their living room. 

“So, what happened?” she asked. 

Minato hesitated only for a moment to gather his thoughts before telling her everything. At the end, Kushina was biting her lip, which she only did when she was worried. 

“Oh,” she said quietly. “She seemed okay today, though? Like she always is.” 

Minato shrugged helplessly. “I think she was just excited to see you. Maybe that snapped her out of it?” 

They stared at each other for a moment in mutual hope. 

~

The next morning at breakfast, though, all their hopes were dashed. Reika pinned her mother with an intense gaze and asked, “Kaa-san, can I start at the Academy next April?” 

Kushina blinked. “Uhh… I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, ‘ttebane.” 

Reika frowned at her. “Why?”

“Because you’re just a kid!” Kushina said. “And it’s dangerous out there.” 

Reika’s frown deepened. “But I need to get stronger,” she insisted. “The fastest way to do that is to go to the Academy, graduate, and get a jonin-sensei.” 

“Minato and I can train you -” 

“But you two have missions,” Reika said quietly, apologetically. Even so, Minato had to suppress a flinch. “Can’t I do both? Go to the Academy and get trained by you two?” 

He looked at Kushina. Kushina looked at him, and in her eyes he saw a reflection of his own thoughts. This was what Reika wanted, and it didn’t seem like there’d be any dissuading her. 

But, maybe…

“Reika-chan,” Minato said quietly. “As you are now, you’d graduate from the Academy in two years. By April, you’d probably graduate in half that time. You’d be a genin at five. Do you understand?” 

From Reika’s puzzled look, she didn’t. Minato swallowed. 

“Even if you spent a year doing exclusively D-ranks,” he said, “you’d likely be in your first battle at the age of six. I just… no matter how prodigious, a six-year-old doesn’t stand a very good chance against a shinobi twice their age.” There was a lump in his throat. “I’ve seen too many kids die. I don’t want you to become one of them.” 

Reika stared at him. Her blue eyes were wide, her face a shade lighter. Minato felt awful, but she needed - she needed to understand the risks in an early graduation. She was so small, so tiny and delicate and breakable, and he knew an enemy shinobi wouldn’t hesitate before cutting her down. 

Maybe it was hypocritical - he’d cut down many enemy shinobi in his time, mostly adults and teens, but some kids among them. He’d been desensitized to the idea of killing children, but that was how he knew that Reika’s opponents would be, too. He’d hesitated the first time, let the kid live, and then the kid had gotten up and stabbed a teammate in the thigh. If Minato hadn’t been as fast as he had, that teammate would’ve bled out. It’d been a quick and efficient lesson - enemy shinobi were enemy shinobi, no matter how young. 

He’d killed that kid, in the end. He still saw his face in his dreams. 

But he didn’t want Reika, his only child, his precious daughter, to end up only as a nameless face haunting the person who killed her. He wanted more for her than that. 

Reika swallowed. “I… I won’t die,” she said, but her voice was hesitating and uncertain. 

“You can’t promise that,” Minato said gently, but there was a note of pleading in his voice. 

He wasn’t above begging. Not if it kept his baby girl safe. 

She stared at him before lowering her gaze. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll start the Academy when I’m six, then, like everyone else.”

Minato exhaled, relief making his shoulders slump. He met Kushina’s eyes across the table, and he saw that same bone-deep gratitude in her expression. 

They both knew they wouldn’t be able to keep Reika safe forever - that wasn’t the point, anyway. The point was to give her the best chance she could get, to minimize the chances they’d need to bury a tiny coffin. And - for now - they’d succeeded.

Chapter Text

Then

Reika stared at the Sandaime. It felt wrong to see him sitting there behind that desk, in those robes, in that hat - where was her father? He hadn’t sent word of his or her mother’s whereabouts since the Kyuubi attack. 

“I’m sorry,” Reika said quietly. “I must have misunderstood.”

(deep down, she’d known what had happened the moment her father’s chakra had vanished from the kunai he’d given her)

The Sandaime - not the Hokage, that was her father, he’d be here any minute and take back up the position - looked as if he’d aged twenty years. 

“Reika-chan,” he said gently. Reika continued to stare, and a hint of desperation entered her tone. 

“Please,” she whispered. “I misunderstood, right?” 

The Sandaime only looked at her sadly, and Reika lowered her head. 

(both her parents were dead and gone)

(but she still had family left, and she needed to be strong)

“Okay,” she whispered, holding herself together through sheer force of will. “Okay. Where’s Naruto, then? Where’s my brother?”

There was a pause. Reika lifted her head. The Sandaime looked, if possible, even sadder. 

“He’s not dead,” Reika said quietly. It wasn’t denial - now that the Kyuubi had been sealed away, her chakra sense was better than anyone’s in the village, better even than her father’s had been. She could feel the characteristic whirlpool-esque chakra that signified an Uzumaki, the chakra that had given their clan its sigil. It was squarely in the depths of the hospital, in the high-security ward that was reserved exclusively for ANBU and important individuals. 

It wasn’t her mother - it was more tornado than whirlpool, but the spiral was still there. She supposed he’d gotten their father’s chakra affinity. 

“He’s not dead,” Reika repeated. “I can sense him.” 

The Sandaime looked at her, the lines etched deeply in his face. “I’m afraid you cannot see him,” he said softly. 

There was a moment of complete silence. Reika stood perfectly still. 

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. Her voice was toneless, and she felt the ANBU members hidden in the office tense, their chakra swirling uneasily. “I must have misunderstood,” she said distantly. “I thought I heard you say that I wasn’t allowed to see my only remaining family member, the son of the Yondaime Hokage, and my baby brother.”

The Hokage - she hated that she had to call him that, even in her own head - sighed deeply. “It is for his own safety,” he said gently. “If word were to get out about his heritage, the other villages would be relentless in their attempts to assassinate him.” He paused, seeing that she wasn’t convinced. “You yourself had already had a reputation when your father became the Yondaime,” he said. “The other villages knew you were someone to be reckoned with. But your brother? He is defenceless.” 

“He has me,” Reika said quietly. She stared the Hokage down. “And Kakashi, and Jiraiya-oji, and Mikoto-oba -” 

“Kakashi-kun has no legal right to Naruto,” the Hokage said. “And Jiraiya-kun has already agreed to relinquish his rights. Mikoto-dono will not be able to raise him - the Council has forbidden it, considering his status.” 

Reika met his gaze unflinchingly, despite the betrayal blooming in her chest. 

(Jiraiya, how could you -?)

“And me?” 

The Hokage’s expression didn’t change. “You are young. Far too young to raise a child.” 

She took a moment to collect her thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I am an adult in the eyes of the law,” Reika said quietly. “I am a chuunin of Konoha and the new Head of the Uzumaki Clan. Naruto is not only a member of my clan, he is my younger brother and heir. By the words of the Clan Charter you signed when you came into office, legally, you have no right to keep him from me.” 

Her rapid heartbeat betrayed her anxiety. This was her Hokage. His word was law, and she’d obeyed him unquestioningly for most of her life. 

But this was for Naruto, and for him, she would do anything, even defy her leader. 

The Hokage studied her, his face blank, but she imagined there was something pleased hiding in the corner of his eyes. “Very well,” he said at last. “Naruto will be placed in your care. I will assign a twenty-four hour ANBU guard for the foreseeable future, but I will not be able to take you off the mission roster.” There was a hint of apology in his tone. “We lost too many shinobi in the attack.”

Reika nodded, trying not to faint from relief. “Thank you, Hokage-sama,” she said softly. “I understand. I will make arrangements for missions.”

~

Her next stop was the hospital. She hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours, she was covered in dust and blood, and there was a tenderness to the skin over her ribs that promised pain tomorrow morning, but she needed to see her brother. 

With the written permission of the Hokage, there was nothing the ANBU guards could do. Reika moved past them into the room they guarded, her eyes falling on its sole occupant. 

He had their father’s hair. She leaned over his crib, gazing down at him. If she hadn't already known him to be the jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, she'd have no idea of his status - which was, after all, rather the point. 

He was sleeping, but as she watched, he blinked open bleary blue eyes. They were the exact same shade as hers, the exact same shade as their father’s. 

“Hi, Naruto,” Reika said softly. He cooed at her, reaching out his chubby hands, and Reika took them in her fingers. He was so small, so unbelievably tiny she could hardly believe it. 

Her heart ached. “It’s just you and me now, Imouto,” she whispered. Naruto gurgled, clutching her index finger in his entire fist. 

She smiled down at him through the exhaustion, through the tears. She’d protect him with everything she had, she promised him silently. 

No matter what. 

~ 

She stayed there until he was released, going home only to change and shower. The nurses gave her pitying looks - there weren’t any beds to spare, so she slept sitting in the hard plastic chair next to Naruto’s crib. The home she’d shared with her parents had been destroyed in the attack, but the Sandaime had given her and Naruto a two-bedroom apartment in one of the shinobi accommodations that’d made it through unscathed. Reika was just grateful she wouldn’t have to care for Naruto in a tent. 

Naruto fussed the entire way home. Reika pretended she didn’t see the pitying looks the other villagers gave her - it was better than the hateful ones directed at her brother. 

Thankfully, the apartment was already furnished with the essentials. Someone had stocked the fridge and pantry, too. Reika held Naruto close and surveyed their new home, and suddenly, the magnitude of what had happened hit her. 

Her parents were dead. They were gone, never coming back. Her father would never ruffle her hair again, her mother would never pull her into a bone-crushing hug again. She was living on her own at the ripe old age of ten, responsible for the care of an infant. It was - unbelievably overwhelming. So overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

Naruto gave a sleepy murmur against her neck, and Reika jolted, coming back to herself. No matter how overwhelming it was, though, she’d do it. She’d do whatever it took to keep Naruto safe and happy. 

She nodded to herself, set Naruto in his crib, and began mixing some formula for him. If her hands trembled... well, there wasn't anyone around to notice. Not anymore.

~

Now

She woke up gasping for air, the echo of Naruto’s dull blue eyes - her eyes, their father’s eyes - superimposed over her vision. 

Reika blinked hard, and the image of her baby brother’s dead, dead eyes faded, replaced by her childhood bedroom. Why - 

Oh, right. She’d gone back in time. 

Slowly, Reika unclenched her hands from her bedspread and smoothed out the wrinkles. Her red hair slipped over her shoulder, and she let it curtain over her face. 

It’d been… two weeks. Two weeks since she’d sent her soul back in time. Two weeks since she’d seen her father for the first time in seventeen years. Two weeks since Naruto’s blood had soaked her hands, two weeks since the light had faded from his eyes - 

No, she told herself. Naruto doesn’t exist yet, but he will. And once he does, I won’t let him die. Not like that. Not again.

Her hands were trembling. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep - she never could, after those nightmares. So instead, she slipped out of bed and padded silently to her desk. She flicked on the lamp and opened the notebook laying on top, pulling out a brush and ink. She needed to brush - ha - up on her calligraphy if she wanted to become a Seals Mistress again. 

~

It was rare for both her parents to be home at the same time. Both of them being high-level jonin with international reputations and their own skillsets, they were in constant demand. At the moment, Hatake Sakumo’s disastrous mission was still a year or so in the future, so the Hokage was able to arrange their missions so that one of them was in the village at any given time. Reika knew that, once the war began in earnest, that would change, but for now, she’d savour it. 

They shared a nice breakfast together, chatting idly, before Minato was left on a mission just before noon. They’d gotten to spend a week together as a family, which was longer than what they usually had, so Reika tried to focus on that instead of on the fact that her father was leaving. 

Kushina was in-village more often than Minato. Her recent mission had been a bit of an outlier - she was the only Seals Master Konoha had regular access to, and was in charge of the complex seals network laid by Uzumaki Mito that defended and hid the village from outsiders. She headed the Research and Development Department’s Fuuinjutsu Division and was a consultant for the Security Department, so while her schedule could be erratic with long hours, it was more regular than Minato’s at the very least. 

Konoha had a village-run daycare for its in-village personnel. It was run by a few full-time caretakers and a rotating roster of genin, mostly from the Genin Corps, but Chuunin-track genin could be found there as well, fulfilling the occasional D-rank if the daycare was short-staffed. Once Tsunade had become Hokage, she’d expanded the daycare to operate at all hours of the day and increased eligibility to the children of shinobi and kunoichi as well. It’d been a very popular move, especially for those without a clan to support them. Tsunade had also implemented mandatory training in child development and basic first aid for the staff, greatly increasing its quality. 

But that was twenty years in the future. Right here, right now, the daycare was essentially just a place to dump children that would (usually, but not always) keep them alive until you could pick them up again. It was the caretaker of last resort - most eligible personnel found other ways of ensuring their children made it through the day, including just leaving their children at home unsupervised. 

When Reika had been younger, she’d spent much of her time being cared for by whichever friends had been available, mostly Kushina’s genin teammates. As a result, Reika had spent most of her life under the care of either Hyuuga Hizashi or Uchiha Mikoto, and was as a result well-known to both clans' adults - Hizashi and Mikoto had often enlisted help, after all, and were prominent in their own right.

Now that she’d started throwing around sharp objects, Reika had thought she would be deemed mature enough to stay home on her own, but her parents had firmly argued that, because she was now throwing around sharp objects, she was at much greater risk of injury, and thus needed supervision more than ever. 

Reika personally thought she’d be rather pitiful if she still needed supervision after a cumulative thirty years of life, twenty of which had been spent throwing around the aforementioned sharp objects, but she wasn’t quite ready to tell her parents about her new status as a time-traveller just yet and so acquiesced with a pout.

In all fairness, though, Reika was rather concerned at her own mental development, which seemed to have regressed to that of a child. She still had all her memories of the future, but her maturity had definitely decreased - not to that of her physical age, but perhaps to that of her ten-year-old self, hence the using-Minato’s-shoulders-as-a-jumping-platform incident. Also, her hand-eye coordination and dexterity could still absolutely use work, despite having improved in leaps and bounds recently. Her mind might know what to do, but the muscle memory wasn't there yet.

It couldn’t be helped, unfortunately, but it did mean that Reika reluctantly agreed with her parents’ decision.

So it was that, after Kushina had left for work but before Minato departed on his mission, he dropped her off at the borders of the Uchiha clan compound. Not that it was a compound as it would be in the future, with walls and guards - at the moment, pre-Kyuubi attack, it was more a district or neighborhood in which the vast majority of the Uchiha lived. 

Minato gave her a squeezing hug, kissed her on the forehead, and vanished. Reika ended up operating on muscle memory and walking to the Clan Head’s home, which was - obviously - larger and more ornate than the others. 

She knocked on the door, and a few moments later Mikoto opened it with a gentle smile on her face. 

“Reika-chan,” she greeted, and the sound of her voice brought back memories - memories of her childhood, her first one, when things had seemed so much simpler than they’d become. Memories of sitting next to Mikoto, the older woman teaching her how to read and write; of the etiquette lessons Reika had loved with a passion, less so for the lessons’ contents than because it meant Mikoto’s attention was solely on her; of accompanying Mikoto on her errands, trailing after her like a puppy.

Reika swallowed and smiled up at her aunt in everything but blood, pushing down the urge to cry. “Hi, Mikoto-obasan,” she said quietly, and automatically bowed in greeting. When Reika straightened, Mikoto had an approving sparkle in her eye, and Reika resisted the urge to preen. 

“Please, come in,” Mikoto murmured, moving to the side. Reika stepped in, slipping off her sandals and into the pair of child-sized slippers that Mikoto always kept by the door. Reika’s heart ached - she’d forgotten about those slippers. They’d suddenly appeared after Reika had taken her first steps, and kept on increasing in size in accordance with her feet. Reika had considered them her slippers, and Mikoto had seemed to agree, embroidering the slippers with daisies, which had been child-Reika’s favourite flower. To anyone else, they were simply a pretty pair of slippers, but Mikoto, Reika, and even Fugaku knew differently. 

“How have you been?” Reika asked, gazing up at Mikoto with renewed adoration. Mikoto smiled down at her as they walked side-by-side to the veranda, where Mikoto had already set out a teapot, two cups, and a small plate of dango and fresh fruit on the low outdoor table. 

“I’ve been well,” Mikoto said softly, sitting in seiza on one side of the table. Reika mirrored her as gracefully as she could, and Mikoto began pouring them both a cup of tea. “Kushina tells me you’ve started learning how to throw shuriken and kunai.”

Reika nodded, glancing at the dango and then at Mikoto. Mikoto met her gaze evenly and raised her eyebrows slightly. Reika flushed and took a sip of tea first, picking up the cup with her right hand and her left gently touching it. As she lifted it to her lips, she carefully slid her left hand to the cup’s bottom and drank with both hands. It was sencha tea, not matcha, which meant absolutely no slurping. Reika carefully lowered the cup and glanced at Mikoto, checking.

Mikoto’s eyebrows had lowered and her eyes were shining with approval, so Reika carefully didn’t break out into a grin like she wanted to and - as gracefully as she could - reached for a slice of clementine. 

As she did so, she told Mikoto about her training. When the clementine slice had been chewed and swallowed, she looked hopefully back at the dango, and Mikoto, her eyes glinting with amusement, finally allowed it. 

Reika couldn’t hide the way her eyes lit up at that, but she did her best to tamp down her excitement. Mikoto watched her fondly as Reika finally, finally ate a piece of dango. 

Once the teapot was empty and the tray cleared, Mikoto gave Reika a look. Reika instantly straightened - that look meant a new lesson would be beginning - before flushing at how she’d previously been slightly slouching. 

The woman looked faintly amused. “Would you like to continue working on your aim? We could go to the training grounds.” 

Reika nodded, desperately trying not to seem too eager. They left for the Uchiha training grounds, the sweet taste of dango lingering on her tongue.

Chapter Text

Then

Back when Minato, Obito, and Rin had been alive, Reika and Kakashi had been nothing more than acquaintances, distantly friendly. 

Then Obito died. Then Rin had followed. And then suddenly her father was inviting Kakashi over for dinner more often, desperately trying to prevent him from curling in on himself in his loneliness and self-recrimination. Kakashi tried to hold her at an arms’ length, and he’d succeeded, until Minato and Kushina had died, too, and it was just the two of them left. 

Reika’s genin teammates had been killed in the war. Her jonin-sensei had been killed in the Kyuubi attack. She had no close friends, no one she trusted enough to leave them with Naruto when she’d be called on a mission. She would’ve gone to Mikoto or Hizashi, but she knew they’d be forced to turn her away - with Naruto as the new jinchuuriki, no prominent clan members were allowed to interact with him, for fear of one clan gaining more influence than another. 

The only one left had been Kakashi, the last member of a clan that’d fallen into disgrace. No one would complain if he got close with Naruto - and more than that, she knew him well enough to know that he’d never let anything happen to Minato’s son. 

That was how she found himself knocking on his door at two in the morning. 

Kakashi’s expression was tired and wary, dark shadows under his eyes that mirrored her own, but it was overtaken by shock when he realized that she was there, Naruto in her arms, standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night. 

“Do you know anything about babies?” she demanded, close to tears. “He won’t stop crying, and I - I - I don’t know what to do.” As if to emphasize her point, Naruto gave a particularly loud wail. 

“I’ve tried feeding him,” Reika continued, and to her shame and horror, tears began welling up in her eyes. “I’ve tried rocking him, I’ve tried changing his diaper, but nothing’s - nothing’s working, and I don’t know what to do.” 

Kakashi looked almost comically panicked, but Reika nearly collapsed at his feet in gratitude when he silently stepped aside, allowing her to walk into his apartment. He closed the door behind her, and gestured for her to sit. 

“I have an idea,” Kakashi said, and he’d run through the summoning jutsu handsigns before, with a small poof, a little pug came into existence on the couch next to her. 

Reika blinked, so shocked that the tears had stopped falling. “Pakkun?” 

The pug took in the scene - Reika, shocked beyond words; Naruto, still screaming; and Kakashi, who had a pleading look in his eye as he looked at the dog. 

Pakkun sighed deeply. “You owe me, kid,” he grumbled, before ambling over to Naruto and shoving his face into the infant’s space. 

To Reika’s complete and utter disbelief, Naruto stopped screaming immediately. He fell silent, blue eyes wide with curiosity. Pakkun nosed him, and Naruto let out a happy, excited squeal and tugged at Pakkun’s ears. Pakkun bore it all with a long-suffering expression on his squished little face. 

Reika looked at Kakashi. She didn’t say anything. Just stared in complete and utter disbelief, because what? She didn’t know what her face looked like, but he snorted. 

“Put him on the couch,” he said, not unkindly. “Pakkun’ll keep an eye on him. Want some tea?”

Reika looked at Pakkun, whose face was being squished by a pair of chubby hands. Pakkun sighed. 

“Go on, then.”

Carefully, reluctantly, Reika set Naruto on the ground instead of the couch. At Kakashi’s look, she defended herself. 

“I read that infants shouldn’t be left on couches!” she protested. “The cushions could smother them, or they could fall if they roll off. The floor is better.”

Kakashi rolled his eye. “Okay. Tea?” 

“Yes, please,” Reika had said quietly. 

They walked to the kitchen. Kakashi’s apartment was small, purely functional, with no knick knacks or unnecessary objects. He put a kettle on the stove and leaned against the countertop, eyeing her critically. Reika flushed - she knew how she must’ve looked. Her hair was in disarray, there were bags under her eyes, and there was probably some of Naruto’s vomit on her somewhere. 

Then Kakashi took the kettle off the stove before it started whistling. 

“Forget the tea,” he said shortly. “Take a shower and then go to sleep. You can borrow some pajamas.” 

Reika blinked at him in confusion. “I… what?” 

He rolled his eye. “Shower,” he repeated slowly, enunciating carefully. “Then, sleep.” 

She flushed hotly. “I know what you - I just -” She sighed in defeat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered or slept more than two hours. “You’ll keep an eye on Naruto? You and Pakkun?” 

Kakashi looked supremely uncomfortable. “... Yeah.” 

Reika exhaled. “I… okay. Thank you,” she said gratefully. 

He nodded, avoiding her eyes, and made a shooing motion. 

She held back a tired grin at his awkwardness and left after making him promise to wake her up in four hours to feed Naruto. When she woke up a full twelve hours later and found Kakashi awkwardly balancing Naruto in one hand and a bottle in the other, she was so grateful she didn’t even scold him. 

~

Somewhere along the way, Kakashi started stopping by more often.

Sometimes, it was to bring food. Other times, it was to check in on Naruto when he thought she wasn’t looking. More often than not, it was because she left her door unlocked, and he had nothing better to do.

Reika didn’t mind.

One night, after a particularly long day, they found themselves walking through the quiet streets of Konoha, Naruto nestled against her chest in a sling.

Kakashi walked beside her, his hands in his pockets, his usual lazy posture in place, but there was something… relaxed about him. Like he wasn’t forcing himself to be here, like he actually wanted to be.

“You’re not off the mission roster,” Kakashi noted. 

Reika exhaled. “No. I got a few months’ leave, but after that, I need to go back.”

He hummed. “Who’ll take care of Naruto?”

She smiled humorlessly. “Good question.”

The silence stretched between them, long and thin. Then - 

“I could,” he said slowly, tentatively, the words lingering in the air.

Reika swallowed. “I can’t ask that of you -”

“Reika.”

The word stopped her in her tracks. Kakashi looked at her, his eye tired and knowing.

“You don’t have any other choice.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

A long pause. 

“So?”

She opened her eyes, smiling at him, letting her gratitude show. “Thanks.”

He looked away immediately, tensing. “Whatever.”

She huffed a laugh. They kept on walking. 

~

Naruto took his first steps at Kakashi’s apartment.

Reika hadn’t even realized it was happening at first—she had been cleaning up the remnants of dinner when Naruto, determined as ever, pulled himself up using Kakashi’s pant leg and let go.

Kakashi barely had time to react before Naruto stumbled forward, catching himself on Kakashi’s knee.

Reika turned at the sound of Kakashi’s soft, startled inhale.

Naruto blinked up at him, chubby hands gripping his shin.

Kakashi stared.

Reika’s heart clenched.

Then, slowly, she smiled. “Look at you,” she said softly, kneeling beside them. “You did it, Naruto.”

Naruto wobbled slightly, looking between the two of them, as if trying to understand what he had just done.

Kakashi, still in a state of mild shock, carefully placed a hand on Naruto’s tiny head.

“Guess you’re walking now,” he murmured.

Naruto beamed.

And just like that, Kakashi was doomed.

Reika saw it in the way his expression softened. The way his usually lazy, half-lidded gaze warmed, just for a second. The way he reached out, steadying Naruto as he took another hesitant step.

Reika bit her lip, watching them.

She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.

But something about Kakashi, the man who had spent his whole life avoiding attachments, holding Naruto so carefully in his arms—

It did something to her heart.

And she didn’t fight it.

~

It crept in softly.

Not all at once, not in a dramatic, world-altering way, but in the quiet moments. In the way Kakashi made tea without asking if she wanted any because he already knew how she liked it. In the way Reika tucked an extra blanket over him on the nights he stayed too late, pretending not to notice when he fell asleep on the couch.

It was in Naruto’s laughter when Kakashi tossed him in the air, catching him effortlessly every time. In the way Reika leaned against the table, watching, arms crossed, smiling to herself.

It was in the way Kakashi started carrying extra food in his pack. Just in case.

It was in the way Reika always set two extra plates at dinner.

Neither of them said it.

But they didn’t have to.

~

One evening, Kakashi arrived at Reika’s house late.

Not too late—but later than usual.

Reika raised an eyebrow when she opened the door. “Mission?”

He nodded, stepping inside without being invited. He never needed an invitation.

“Successful?”

“Mm.” Kakashi pulled off his gloves, flexing his fingers. “Standard. Nothing interesting.”

Reika studied him. He didn’t look injured, but there was something in his posture, something slightly off.

She didn’t ask.

Instead, she grabbed a washcloth from the side table and handed it to him. “You smell like sweat.”

Kakashi huffed a quiet laugh, taking it. “Charming.”

“I try.”

He wiped his face, tossing the cloth into the laundry bin before walking into the kitchen, where Reika was already pulling out a plate of leftovers.

He sat.

She poured tea.

Neither of them spoke.

And somehow, it was the most comfortable silence in the world.

~

It was an accident.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

They had been sitting on the grass, watching Naruto toddle around the park, attempting (and failing) to catch a falling leaf.

Kakashi sat beside her, arms resting on his knees, mask in place.

Reika stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her palms.

The air was cool, the kind of autumn breeze that hinted at the coming winter.

She exhaled. “He’s getting faster.”

Kakashi hummed. “He’s getting smarter, too.”

Reika smiled, watching Naruto finally manage to grab the leaf, his entire face lighting up.

Then, without thinking—

She reached out.

Her fingers brushed against Kakashi’s wrist, a fleeting, absentminded touch.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

She left her hand there.

And after a few seconds—

Kakashi turned his palm over, catching her fingers in his.

It was small. Barely anything.

But it was enough.

~

Naruto was five when he realized something very, very important.

“Kashi-nii,” he said one morning, squinting up at Kakashi with the kind of serious expression only a child could pull off.

Kakashi, sipping his tea, nearly choked. “What?”

Reika turned from the stove, eyes wide. Because - Kashi-nii??

Naruto blinked at them both, completely oblivious to the absolute catastrophe he had just caused.

“You and Aneki love each other, right?”

Silence.

Kakashi froze. Reika stopped mid-motion, the rice spoon still in her hand.

Naruto tilted his head, as if wondering why neither of them were answering.

Reika cleared her throat. “Uh. Naruto—”

“But you do,” he insisted, crossing his arms. “I see it.”

Kakashi looked like he was not prepared for this conversation.

Reika pressed her lips together, her face turning suspiciously pink. “Well, it’s not—”

“I mean, you act like you do,” Naruto continued, counting on his fingers. “Kashi-nii is always here, and Aneki always makes him food, and you sit close together all the time, and sometimes I see you holding hands when you think I’m not looking.”

Reika nearly dropped the spoon. “You—what?”

Naruto beamed. “You do love each other!”

Kakashi exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “We—Naruto, that’s not how it—”

“I knew it!” Naruto cheered, running circles around them.

Reika and Kakashi exchanged a helpless look.

And for the first time, Reika wondered—

Were they really still pretending?

~

The house was quiet.

Naruto had finally fallen asleep, curled up in his futon, his small hands grasping at the blanket like it might disappear if he let go. His breathing was soft, steady.

Reika lingered in the doorway, watching him for a moment longer than necessary.

Just to be sure. Just because she could.

Then, with a sigh, she stepped away, sliding the door shut behind her.

Kakashi was already outside, sitting on the balcony, legs stretched out, mask still in place.

The sky was clear tonight. The moonlight was pale, silvering the edge of the rooftops, casting everything in a quiet kind of stillness.

Reika sat beside him, tucking her feet beneath her.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

And then—

“He’s getting bigger,” Kakashi murmured, watching the trees sway in the breeze.

Reika hummed, rubbing her arms absently. “Too fast.”

Kakashi’s gaze flickered to her. “You don’t have to watch over him every second, you know.”

Reika exhaled, pressing her fingers into her temples. “You say that, but who’s the one who checked if he was breathing five times last night?”

Kakashi was silent.

Reika smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Kakashi sighed, tilting his head back against the wall. “I wasn’t counting. ”

“You never have to.”

Kakashi chuckled, low and quiet.

Reika glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking in the relaxed curve of his shoulders, the way the tension that usually clung to him seemed softer here, in the dark, in the quiet .

She hesitated. Then, carefully, deliberately—

She leaned against his side. Not much. Just enough to be there.

Kakashi stiffened for half a second—then relaxed, his body shifting slightly to accommodate her.

Reika closed her eyes. The wind moved through the trees, rustling the leaves. The warmth of Kakashi’s arm seeped into hers.

And then—

Softly, without hesitation—

“I love you.”

Kakashi inhaled.

Reika felt the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath stuttered, just for a second.

She didn’t move. Didn’t take it back.

She just let it be. 

Because it was true . Because it had always been true.

Kakashi didn’t say anything at first.

Then, after what felt like a lifetime—

He exhaled. Shifted slightly.

And turned his head, so that when he spoke, his voice was quiet, warm, steady.

“I love you too.”

Reika’s fingers curled slightly against her knee. She let out a slow breath. Didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to.

They just sat there, in the stillness of the night, their shoulders pressed together, the weight of unspoken things settling around them like something soft.

Something steady. Something theirs. And for once—

For once —

That was enough.

~

Reika had been through war before. The Third Shinobi War had been awful, terrible.

She had seen death. She had lost people. Her parents, Mikoto, her genin teammates, her jonin-sensei - 

But this, the Fourth War, was different.

This was the end.

The battlefield stretched out before her, chaos bleeding into every corner. The sky was dark with smoke, the ground torn apart by jutsu, by bodies, by the weight of war pressing down on everything.

And in the center of it all—

Naruto. Fighting. Holding the world on his shoulders like he had always done.

And Kakashi—

Kakashi, standing beside him, covering his blind spots, moving with the kind of efficiency that only came from years of knowing exactly how to fight together.

Reika ran.

Ran toward them, toward the place she always ended up, toward the only two people in the world who mattered .

She wasn’t fast enough.

~

It happened too quickly.

One second, Kakashi was there—alive, steady, fighting—

And the next—

The air cracked with an explosion of chakra, an attack meant for Naruto, an attack Kakashi barely had time to see before he moved.

Reika’s breath caught .

No.

No, no, no—

Kakashi turned his head—just slightly, just enough for his eye to meet hers—

And then he smiled.

Soft. Quiet.

Like he had already known. Like he hadn’t just chosen to die.

“ KAKASHI! ”

The blast hit. And he was gone.

Reika’s scream ripped through her throat, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered. Because Kakashi—

Kakashi was dead.

~

Reika had thought— hoped —that Naruto would survive.

That he would push through, that he would win, that he would do what he always did—

But Kakashi had been his anchor.

His last, steady anchor.

And without him—Naruto hesitated. Just for a second.

And in war—

A second was everything.

The attack came too fast. 

Reika moved. Ran, ran, ran, feet barely touching the ground, chakra burning through her veins, lungs aching—

She wasn’t fast enough.

Naruto’s breath left him in a sharp, startled exhale. He looked down.

Blood soaked through his jacket. For a second, he looked confused.

And then—

His knees buckled .

Reika caught him.

She held him, pressed her hands to the wound, shaking, shaking, trying to stop the bleeding even though she already knew.

Naruto looked up at her, eyes wide, unfocused.

“Aneki.”

She choked back a sob. “ I’m here. ”

Naruto smiled. Small. Faint.

“Kashi-nii’s waiting for me.”

Reika’s heart cracked.

“ No, ” she gasped. “ No, Naruto, stay with me— ”

His hand gripped hers weakly.

“You’re the best mom ever.”

His eyes slipped shut.

And then—

He was gone.

~

Reika didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care what it would take.

The seal she had spent years working on—the one she had just perfected—burned against her skin, glowing, shifting, wrapping around her like fate had been waiting for this moment.

It would take everything .

She didn’t care.

Her hands shook as she pressed her fingers against Naruto’s forehead.

“I’ll fix this,” she whispered.

The world collapsed.

Chapter Text

The nights were the worst. During the day, Reika kept herself busy. She exercised, she trained, she practiced her calligraphy until her fingers and wrists begged her to stop. But at night, when everything was still, the memories pressed on her chest like physical weights. She’d toss and she’d turn, and eventually fall asleep out of sheer physical exhaustion, and she’d dream. 

They weren’t always nightmares. That was the worst part. Sometimes, she’d sleep, and she’d remember the way Kakashi used to watch her cook, leaning against the counter, watching her like she was something precious, like he was trying to ingrain the moment into his memory. She’d smile and tease, ask him, Watching me cook won’t make you any better at it, because he couldn’t cook to save his life, and Kakashi - 

He’d just look at her, his eye soft in way he’d never allowed himself to be before. Yeah, he’d agree. I know. She’d smile at him fondly, because they both knew what he was doing, and she’d go back to cooking. And then Naruto would stumble in, see the look on Kakashi’s face, and gag loudly, but he wouldn’t leave. 

You guys are gross, he’d declare. 

And Kakashi wouldn’t deny it. He’d just raise his eyebrows. Then leave, he’d say idly.

No, Naruto would say, very strongly.

Reika would smile to herself as they argued, no heat behind their words. She’d let herself bask in it, let herself be there, and then - 

She’d wake up. 

And it was like losing them all over again. 

~

Her parents noticed. Of course they did. They saw the way she pushed herself, too hard, too fast. They saw the way her mind had changed, how she’d developed the ability to predict an opponents’ movements overnight, how she’d grip a kunai in a wrong way, huff, and then correct herself. 

As if she knew what to do in her head, but her body didn’t.

~

They worried. She saw it in their eyes, their expressions, when she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion and collapsed on the grass in the yard. When Minato hovered, watching, his eyebrows creased as if he was trying to figure her out but couldn’t. When Kushina pushed more food onto her plate at dinner, because you’ve been training all day, ‘ttebane, you gotta eat, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. When Kushina would pick her up from Mikoto’s and sigh at the dusty ends of her pant legs. 

The guilt was overwhelming. She felt awful - she’d replaced the daughter they used to have, the Reika that’d been here before she’d come back. She’d killed her, in a way. 

And that was why she didn’t say anything. Because she didn’t think she could take it if her parents, the ones who’d always been there for her until they couldn’t, knew that, too. 

~

Weeks turned into months. Reika got stronger, faster, more precise. But the dreams didn’t stop. 

They got worse. 

~

The dream started out normal. Or, at least, as normal as they got. 

It was raining. Naruto was rubbing a towel over his hair, and it stuck up in every direction. Reika eyed him, not because of the hair, but because - 

“There’s a frog under the couch,” she said, her voice flat.

Naruto blinked at her. There was hair stuck to his forehead. “There is?”

Reika gestured vaguely at the couch. “Check.”

He ducked, looking under the couch. “Huh. There is.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Naruto. Why is there a frog under the couch?” 

Naruto blinked at her innocently. Too innocently. “He must’ve followed me home.”

Kakashi wandered in from the bedroom. “Naruto, put the frog back.”

Naruto pouted. “But he’s my friend! Can’t I keep him?”

Kakashi gave him a look. “Your friend belongs outside.”

Reika sighed. No one did anything in this household. She picked the frog up, opened the window, and threw it outside. 

“Goodbye, Naruto’s friend.”

“NOOO!”

Kakashi patted Naruto’s head. “Tragic.”

Naruto pouted harder. “You guys are so mean.” He threw himself dramatically onto the couch. 

Reika snorted. “You can get a frog when you learn to stop tracking in mud.”

Naruto gasped, deeply offended. “That’s not fair!”

Kakashi shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Naruto rolled onto the floor and whined loudly. Then he looked up, meeting Reika’s eyes, and tilted his head curiously. 

“Hey, hey, nee-san,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

Reika eyed him. “Depends. Is it about the frog?”

He huffed. “No.”

“Then, go ahead.”

He blinked at her. “Why didn’t you save me?”

Reika stared at him. “... What?” she said weakly. 

“Why didn’t you save me?” he repeated. “I trusted you. And you weren’t enough.”

“You did let him die,” Kakashi adds.

She swallowed. “But you’re right here.”

Naruto stared at her. “Am I?” 

~

Reika woke up gasping for air. She hunched over in bed, sitting up abruptly, and a low, keening, broken sound tore itself from her throat. She stared down at her hands, and - 

They were small. Too small. 

It hits her at once. She was in the past, had been in the past for months, because - because - 

She’d let her baby brother die. 

Reika whimpers. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, clawing at the sheets. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry -”

Her door opened. Reika looked up, tears on her face. Minato took one look at her and made a sound like he’d been punched. 

The next second, his arms were wrapped around her. Reika sobbed, because he looked so much like Naruto had, so much like Naruto will, because she was still three and he wasn’t born yet but she’d already failed him so badly - 

Kushina was there the next moment. She sat at Reika’s side, rubbing her back. 

Reika needed to control herself. She knew that, knew she was making these pitiful, high-pitched, broken noises, but she can’t stop. She can’t. She hadn’t let herself cry since coming back to the past, not until now, and now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

Her parents stayed with her, because of course they did. Eventually, her breaths evened out. The tears stopped coming. 

Her mother took Reika’s face in her hands and gently wiped off the tears staining her face. 

“Reika,” her father said, and he sounded so gentle it almost made her cry again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Reika shook her head immediately. But Minato looked at her sadly, so, so sadly. 

“I think you need to.”

She stiffened. “I -”

“Please,” he said quietly, and the look in his eyes - it was desperate. Pleading. Begging. 

“You’re hurting,” he said, his voice soft. “Let us help, Reika. You’re not alone.”

She swallowed, looking down. “If I tell you, you’ll hate me,” she whispers, her voice small.

Kushina made a small sound. “We could never hate you, Reika,” she breathed, disbelief in her voice. “Never.”

Reika stared at her hands. Her small hands. She shook her head. 

“You will,” she said. And then, slowly, her shoulders relaxed, and she sighed defeatedly, her limbs heavy. “But maybe that’s what I deserve.”

“Reika -”

She didn’t let her father finish. 

“I’ve lived this life before.”

Silence. 

Reika kept going. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“You two die when I’m ten,” she said quietly. “A man rips the Kyuubi out of Kaa-san when she’s giving birth, and the two of you die sealing it away. But you -” her voice caught. “You leave behind a son. Naruto.”

She swallowed. The name hung in the air. 

“I raised him,” Reika whispered. “Me and Kakashi. We - we’re not perfect,” she said, giving a shaky laugh. “Not even close. But we do our best, and for a while, it’s enough.”

She stared at her too-small hands. She thinks her parents have stopped breathing. 

“But then the war comes,” she said, and her voice shattered . “And Kakashi dies. And then Naruto dies. And I wasn’t fast enough.”

She took a breath. “So I sent myself back. And now I’m here.”

There was a long pause. Reika didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe . She just… braced herself. For the hatred, the blame, the accusation, the why did you survive when he didn’t? Why weren’t you enough?

Then, Kushina spoke. “Oh, Reika,” she breathed, and her voice - it was heartbroken. “You’ve been carrying all that alone?” 

Reika couldn’t help herself - her head jerked upwards, eyes wide, because that wasn’t blame, that was empathy. Her mother meets her gaze, and there’s tears in her eyes, tears on her face, and - 

“Why aren’t you yelling?” Reika blurted out, unable to stop herself. 

Her mother’s face crumpled. “Reika,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears, “how could we possibly yell at you?”

“You’ve been through so much,” Minato said, and his voice was shaky, like he’s trying to hold back tears, too. “But Reika - it wasn’t your fault.”

Reika looked between her parents, brows furrowed. “But it was,” she said quietly. “I was there, I saw the attack coming, I just - I wasn’t fast enough. You should hate me,” she repeated urgently. “You have to.”

They just looked at her, sadness in their eyes. 

“Why?” Minato asks softly. “Why do we have to hate you?”

Reika folded in on herself. “Because I deserve it.”

Kushina pulled her in.

No hesitation, no words—just warm, steady arms wrapping around her, holding her tight.

Reika froze.

Because she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve the comfort, the warmth, the forgiveness.

She deserved their anger. Their blame. Their hatred.

But Kushina just pressed a hand against the back of her head, cradling her like she was something precious.

And then—softly, achingly—

“No, you don’t.”

Reika shook her head. “You don’t understand—”

Minato’s hand rested lightly against her back. “We understand,” he murmured. “More than you think.”

Reika scoffed—a weak, broken sound. “Then you should hate me.”

Minato sighed, pressing his forehead against the crown of her head. “Reika-chan,” he whispered, “we could never hate you.”

Reika choked on a sob. “But I—”

Kushina pulled back just enough to cup her face in her hands.

And gods, the look in her eyes—

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t blame.

It was just love.

Unshaken, unbreakable love.

“Sweetheart,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “do you think we’d ever blame Naruto for something like this?”

Reika stilled.

Her breath caught.

Because—

No. Of course not.

She knew that. She knew that if the roles had been reversed, if it had been Naruto standing in her place, they would never have blamed him for not being enough.

Then—

Then why was it different for her?

Her lips trembled. She didn’t know why it was different. She just knew that it was.

Minato brushed a hand over her hair, his voice gentle but firm. “You did everything you could, Reika.”

Reika shook her head.

Minato held her tighter. “And I am so proud of you.”

That—

That broke her.

She sobbed. Loud, unrestrained, shaking apart in their arms. Because she didn’t know how to accept this. Didn’t know how to let herself believe it. Because they were wrong, but - 

But they held her. They held her through it.

They whispered to her, telling her how strong she was, how brave she was, how they loved her, how they would always love her.

And for the first time—

She let herself be held.

~

She didn’t believe them. Not really. Not when Naruto had died in her arms, not when he’d died calling her mom for the first time, not when he’d died reassuring her, of all things - 

But. She believed that her parents believed it. She believed that her parents believed she wasn’t at fault, that she wasn’t to blame, that there wasn’t anything she could’ve done. 

She didn’t agree, but she accepted, for the first time, that they did. 

And maybe, for now, that was enough. 

~

Reika wasn’t better immediately. Because that wasn’t how grief - how healing - worked. 

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t a straight path. It wasn’t something Reika could just force herself through, no matter how much she wanted to.

But she tried. Even if she thought she didn’t deserve it. Because deep in her heart of hearts, she knew Kakashi and Naruto wouldn’t want her to be like this. They - they’d want her to live, to keep living the way she had with them. Because they were good like that.

So she tried. For them. Because they were gone, because the life they’d shared together was gone, but if she forgot them, if she ignored what they would’ve wanted - 

Then it was like they’d never even existed. And that was worse.

~

Some days were easier than others.

She learned to pause again. To let herself breathe, to stop thinking like every second wasted was another person lost. Because there was a reason she’d chosen to send herself back to her early years, and it was so that she’d have time. Time to regain the skills she’d once had, time to get stronger than she’d been before.

She still trained. Still pushed herself. But there were times she didn’t. Times when she sat outside with her parents instead, listening to Kushina chatter about nothing important, watching Minato read reports with an easy expression, feeling the warmth of them beside her.

And it was enough. It was nice. She’d forgotten what it had felt like, having parents. She’d spent longer without them than with, and getting them back all at once - 

It was overwhelming. But she breathed through it. She let herself have them. Sometimes. Not always - but enough.

She still had nightmares. She probably always would. 

But now—now—she didn’t wake up alone.

Kushina had the uncanny ability to sense when something was wrong, even in her sleep. She never said anything when Reika crawled into bed with her, never commented on how small she still was, never teased her for needing this.

She just pulled her close, tucked her head under her chin, and held her.

And when Minato found them in the morning, he only ever smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before going about his day.

They never made her feel weak for it.

And gods, that made all the difference.

She let herself have that, too. Sometimes.

~

The guilt was still there. The grief. The lingering thought of if only. If only she’d been faster, stronger, enough.

But it was easier to handle, now, because her parents knew, and because they didn’t blame her.

~

“Are you upset?” Reika asked one evening. It’d been a quiet few hours. The sun had set, and night had settled in. She sat at the dining table, practicing her calligraphy. Her father was across from her, writing a mission report, and her mother was writing in one of her notebooks. 

They both looked at her questioningly. 

“That I came back,” Reika said quietly, averting her eyes. “That I replaced the daughter you used to have.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” Kushina said softly. “Of course not. You’re still our daughter.”

Reika swallowed. “But I’m different. I’m not her.”

Minato covered her hand with his own. “You’re not,” he agreed easily. “Because you’ve grown up already, once. But I’m grateful, because if you hadn’t come back, I’d never have had the chance to know this you.”

There was a lump in her throat. Her mouth was dry. “I’m not… normal,” she said hesitantly. “Or whole. You didn’t expect this to happen.”

“No,” Minato said. “We didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we don’t still love you. That doesn’t mean we don’t still accept you.”

Her eyes were wet. “Okay,” she whispered. Then, softly, because she didn’t think she’d ever told them before - 

“I missed you.”

“We’re here now,” Kushina murmured, pulling Reika into her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And we’re not going anywhere.”

~

More time passed. Months, in which the hard knot of grief and loss in her chest slowly, ever so slowly, loosened. It was still there - it’d always be there. 

But she had a second chance. She’d given herself a second chance. And she had to keep moving forward. Because that was what Naruto and Kakashi would’ve wanted, what her parents wanted. Because, in the end, she couldn’t stay stuck in the past forever. 

The guilt was still there. It’d always be there, probably. But she’d learned to carry it, just a little. 

~

The words came tumbling out in the late evening, when the sky was a deep, endless purple and the air was thick with the quiet hum of summer. The kind of evening where the world felt soft, where everything should have been peaceful.

But inside Reika, there was only ache.

She sat between her parents on the porch, knees drawn to her chest, fingers curled into the fabric of her pants. Kushina was beside her, idly playing with her hair like she had all the time in the world. Minato sat on the other side, relaxed in posture, but his eyes never left her.

Reika knew they were waiting. And she was so tired of holding everything in. Of being the only one who remembered them.

So she spoke.

"Kakashi and I raised him," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Kushina’s fingers stilled.

Minato didn’t move, but she felt him inhale, slow and steady.

"After you two were gone," Reika continued, staring at the sky. "We weren’t perfect. But we tried."

Kushina exhaled sharply, her voice thick when she asked, "Tell me about him."

Reika’s throat tightened. Her hands trembled in her lap. "He looked like you, Tou-san. But his smile—" She swallowed, eyes burning. "That was all Kaa-san."

Minato let out a breath like he’d been punched.

Kushina’s face crumpled.

"He wanted to be Hokage," Reika continued, voice barely steady. "And he would have been. He was stubborn. Loud. He never gave up on anyone. He loved the village, even when it didn’t love him back."

Minato’s fingers curled into fists.

Reika pressed forward. Because Naruto - he deserved this. To have their parents know him. Even if he didn’t even exist yet, he deserved to be known, to be loved.

"He wore orange because he thought it was the loudest color, and he wanted people to see him. He made me eat ramen at least twice a week, even when I was sick of it. He laughed too hard at his own jokes, and he always found new ways to make things so much harder for himself because he refused to take shortcuts."

A watery chuckle slipped from her lips. "And when he smiled, it felt like nothing bad had ever happened in the world."

Kushina covered her mouth with her hand, tears falling freely now.

Minato pressed his fingers to his eyes, his breath unsteady.

Reika inhaled sharply, shaking. "We were a mess, especially in the beginning, but we made it work. Kakashi and I—we loved him. We were a family."

She hesitated. Then, softer—

"And sometimes, we were happy."

Minato made a sound like he was breaking.

Reika kept going.

"We’d walk him home from the Academy,” she whispered. “Whichever one of us wasn’t on a mission. Sometimes, we’d both be there, and he’d just - light up. He’d walk between us and take our hands, so naturally, like he’d never even considered otherwise.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Even when he got older,” she said, her voice soft and heavy, “He never stopped reaching for my hand. And I - I never stopped taking it.”

Minato sniffed, his voice hoarse. "Reika—"

"And then the war came," she whispered, "and I lost them both."

Kushina grabbed her, pulling her into a fierce hug, pressing her lips to the top of her head.

Minato held them both.

And Reika—

Reika sobbed.

Because her parents were here. But Naruto and Kakashi were gone.

And she didn’t know how to exist in a world where both things were true.

So she let herself be held.

Let herself mourn.

And let herself remember.

Chapter Text

Healing wasn’t a straight line. It wasn’t something she could force. She still woke up some nights gasping for breath, reaching for ghosts that weren’t there. She still hesitated before walking past a mirror, because seeing her younger self in her reflection still felt wrong.

But she tried.

She let herself sit in the sun a little longer. She let herself pause when Minato reached out to ruffle her hair, instead of ducking away. She let herself linger when Kushina wrapped an arm around her shoulder, guiding her into the kitchen to help make dinner, because food tasted better when they made it together.

She let herself be loved.

It wasn’t easy. She didn’t believe, not really, that she deserved it.

But her parents did.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

~

Reika still trained. She still worked harder than she probably should have. But now, when she collapsed onto the grass, exhausted, she let herself stay there for a moment. Let herself listen to the wind through the trees, the distant sounds of life carrying on without her.

Minato noticed.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He just sat down beside her, letting the quiet settle.

Then, one evening, as they watched the sunset from the back porch, he finally spoke.

“You’re doing better.”

Reika blinked. “What?”

Minato smiled at her, soft and warm. “I’ve seen you,” he murmured. “You let yourself rest now.”

Reika exhaled, looking down at her hands. “I’m trying.”

Minato’s hand was light on her head, ruffling her hair. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Something in her chest loosened.

She didn’t answer. She just leaned against him, just slightly, and let herself breathe.

~

Some nights were worse than others.

She still dreamed—sometimes of Kakashi, sometimes of Naruto, sometimes of both. And sometimes, the dreams weren’t memories. Sometimes, they were just fear, clawing at her from the inside, whispering that she would fail again. That no matter what she did, the future wouldn’t change.

But then she would wake up.

And Minato would be there, his presence steady even if he was just sitting outside her room, pretending not to be waiting for her.

And Kushina would be there, arms open, holding her close even if she never said a word.

And she wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

~

One day, she sat beside her father in his office, watching as he wrote out reports, the steady scratch of his brush against paper filling the space between them.

It was normal. Simple.

And yet, Reika couldn’t remember the last time she had just sat like this, not thinking about the past, not bracing herself for what came next.

Minato glanced at her, then set down his brush. “What is it?”

Reika blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re staring,” he said, amused.

Reika hesitated, then exhaled. “I just… I don’t know.”

Minato tilted his head, waiting.

Reika looked down at her hands. “I think… I think I’m glad you’re here.”

Minato’s expression softened.

Then, gently, he reached out, resting his hand over hers. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat.

And, for the first time in a long time, she believed him.

~

Reika wasn’t fixed. She was still broken, still missing holes in her very soul that Kakashi and Naruto had once filled. She wasn’t sure if those holes would ever fill. 

But she was learning to live with it. Slowly, quietly, in the warmth of her father’s patience, in the unwavering presence of her mother’s love.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe that she could be okay.

Someday.

And that was enough.

~

And then, one day, she met the malfunctioning weirdo that was Uchiha Shisui. And suddenly, the world seemed brighter, stranger, and just a little more absurd. 

~

She’d been training with Mikoto, eight months after returning to the past, when he’d just… marched up to her. She was four. He looked young, maybe a year or two older than her.

Reika paused, turned to him expectantly, and tilted her head. 

The boy - clearly an Uchiha - just… stared at her. Open-mouthed. For several long seconds.

Mikoto sighed.

“... Are you okay?” Reika ventured.

His brain visibly recalibrated. “I’m -” He swallowed. “Hi.”

“... Hi?” 

“You’re - uh - I’m Shisui!”

Reika stared. Because - this was the future Shunshin no Shisui? The boy who’d been notoriously smooth, charming, who’d supposedly spoken like it was effortless?

She couldn’t help but smile. Small, but real. Amused. This boy had a long way to go. 

“Nice to meet you, Shisui.”

He nodded rapidly. "Yeah! And you’re—you’re really—" He visibly panicked. "Your eyes are blue."

She couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled from her chest. “I know.”

From the corner of her vision, she saw Mikoto cover her mouth with her sleeve. 

Shisui nodded again, earnest. “Like, so blue. Really blue. The bluest."

She laughed again, louder this time. “... Thanks? I guess?” 

His entire face went slack. His eyes grew enormous. For a full five seconds, Shisui did nothing but stare at her. 

Reika blinked at him. “... Are you okay?”

He came back to life all at once. “We should be friends!”

Reiks tilted her head. “Why?” 

Shisui grinned. "Because you’re pretty and scary and I need you in my life!"

Mikoto was trembling with the force of holding back her laughter. 

She stared at him. That… was not what she’d expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it definitely had not been that. 

Shisui beamed at her expectantly. 

Reika continued to stare. Shisui continued to beam like his life depended on it. 

He was so weird.

… But he’d made her laugh. Twice. And she could look at him without seeing a ghost, without feeling that ever-present ache in her chest, so - 

Reika exhaled. “Okay.” 

"Great!" he said, far too loudly. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

She frowned. "For what?"

Shisui shot her finger guns. "Friend stuff!"

Then he bolted. 

~

For a long time, Reika just stared at the spot Shisui had occupied. Then, slowly, voice faint with disbelief, she turned to Mikoto.

“... Did that really just happen?”

Mikoto lowered her sleeve from her mouth, perfectly composed again. “It did.”

Reika nodded slowly. “I… don’t know how to deal with that,” she said, bewildered. 

Mikoto just looked at her. “Well,” she said, her eyes dancing, “I suppose you’ll figure that out tomorrow.”

She exhaled. “Right.” She shook herself. “Training?”

Mikoto nodded. “Training.”

~

Kushina picked her up from Mikoto’s house. Reika was still reeling, and her mother noticed immediately. 

“What happened?” Kushina asked, looking at her with concern. 

Reika stared at the ground as she walked. “... That’s a good question,” she said at last. “I don’t know, either.” 

Kushina waited. 

Reika huffed. “A boy interrupted Mikoto-obasan and I while we were training,” she said slowly. “He looked - maybe a year older than me? He just - walked up to me.” Her brow furrowed. “And opened his mouth. And - didn’t say anything. For a full five seconds.”

Kushina snorted. “Is that so, ‘ttebane?”

Reika nodded absently. “He was weird,” she muttered. “He seemed very fixated on how my eyes are blue. And then he asked me if we could be friends, and when I asked why, he said, Because you’re pretty and scary and I need you in my life.”

Her mother wheezed . 

Reika stared up at her, absolutely, completely out of her depth. “I told him yes, but, Kaa-san, he was so weird. I’ve never met anyone that weird before,” she continued. “Why was he like that?” 

Kushina cackled loudly and ruffled Reika’s hair. “You’ll figure it out.”

Reika frowned.

~

She was training the next morning when she felt his chakra, a bright burning flame entering her awareness. She ignored him until he reached the edge of the training ground, when she turned. 

Reika blinked. She wasn’t sure why she was still surprised at this point, but she was. Because he was crouching in front of some bushes, staring at her like she was some mythical creature.

“Why are you crouching?”

Shisui straightened up immediately like she’d insulted him. “Uh.”

Reika waited. Shisui did not elaborate. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. 

“Shisui. You’re back.”

He swallowed. “Yeah! Uh. Thought I’d—uh—train with you? If that’s okay?"

She studied him for a second, then nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Alright."

Shisui blinked. "Really?"

She huffed a quiet laugh, stepping to the side so he could spar with her. "Come on, then. Let’s see what you’ve got."

~

Reika had him on the ground in ten seconds flat. 

Four times. In a row.

She pressed a kunai to his throat milliseconds after his back hit the ground, blinking at him. 

“You lose.”

He wheezed, looking like he’d just had multiple revelations and had no idea how to deal with any of them. “You are so cool.”

Reika laughed. “Thanks?”

Shisui continued staring at her, expression wrecked . “Marry me.”

She laughed harder. “You are so weird.”

“But you’re considering it,” Shisui shot back immediately. 

Reika just looked at him, amused. She shook her head, then got off him and held out a hand. “Come on, get up."

Shisui stared at it like it was a religious experience. Then, he took it.

She pulled him to his feet with ease, and this time, when he stumbled slightly, she caught his arm to steady him. 

"You alright?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Shisui gave her a dazed smile, "You're so cool," he repeated faintly. 

Reika smiled at him fondly, "You said that already."

Shisui pressed a hand to his chest, looking at her like she had just saved his soul. "Uzumaki Reika, I am obsessed with you."

Reika huffed another laugh, softer this time. "We're sparring again tomorrow, aren't we?"

He beamed. "Absolutely."

~

“... Kaa-san.”

“Mm?”

“He’s still so weird. I beat him in a spar four times in a row, and he asked me to marry him, and then he said I was cool, twice, and then he said he was obsessed with me. What is wrong with him - Kaa-san, why are you crying?”

Chapter Text

Shisui wasn’t expecting his entire life to change that day.

He had been running an errand—something boring, something beneath him, but his father had been firm, and Shisui knew when to pick his battles. It was hot, the kind of heat that made everything feel heavy, and he was just about ready to collapse into a shady spot and complain about it when he heard the sound of a kunai striking kunai.

A spar.

He didn’t mean to stop.

But then he saw her.

She was standing in one of the training grounds, small but steady, kunai in her hand, her entire body poised with a stillness that wasn’t hesitation—it was readiness.

Shisui’s steps slowed.

Her hair was red. Blood red, like it was meant to stand out, tied back in a loose ponytail. Her skin was fair, her grip on the kunai perfect.

And then she turned her head, just a little, and Shisui’s heart stopped.

Her eyes weren’t gray, weren’t brown.

They were bright blue.

Not just blue. Striking. Like a sky before a storm, sharp and piercing, like they could see things other people couldn’t.

Shisui’s brain completely shut down. Which was bad. Because then she moved.

Mikoto-sama threw a kunai at her without warning. And she didn’t just dodge.

She flowed.

Her feet shifted smoothly, twisting mid-air, her weight adjusting like she had always known exactly where she needed to be. Her hand lashed out, fingers snatching the kunai from the air with effortless precision.

She landed in a controlled crouch, calm and steady. Like she had done this a thousand times before.

Shisui forgot how to breathe.

She was young. How young, he didn’t know. Maybe a year younger than him at most.

But she had just moved like that.

And Shisui—

Shisui needed her in his life. Right now. Immediately.

So, with all the confidence of a five-year-old boy who had never once doubted himself, he marched up to her.

She turned to face him, blinking curiously, tilting her head slightly as if trying to place him. Her expression was open, patient, and for some reason, that only made it worse.

Shisui opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Mikoto-sama sighed.

Five long seconds passed. Distantly, Shisui heard himself screaming in his own brain. 

The girl’s lips twitched, just slightly. "Are you okay?"

Shisui, who was very much not okay, scrambled. "I’m—" He swallowed. "Hi."

She blinked. "Hi."

Shisui’s mouth was so dry.

"You’re—uh—" His brain flailed. "I’m Shisui!"

She stared at him for a second, then smiled—soft, but genuine. "Nice to meet you, Shisui."

Shisui nodded way too fast. "Yeah! And you’re—you’re really—" He panicked. Ask for her name, his mind suggested. His mouth supplied: “Your eyes are blue."

She blinked, her lips pressing together briefly before she laughed softly. "I know."

Mikoto-sama covered her mouth with her sleeve.

Shisui dug himself deeper. Because apparently, this entire interaction wasn’t bad enough. "Like, so blue. Really blue. The bluest."

The girl laughed again, louder this time. “... Thanks? I guess?”

He stared at her, the sound of her laugh echoing in his head. It resonated. Like bells. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at her, but it was long enough for her to look concerned when he finally came back to reality. 

“... Are you okay?”

Shisui scrambled to recover. "We should be friends!"

She tilted her head, considering. "Why?"

Shisui grinned, absolutely out of his depth but too far gone to stop now. "Because you’re pretty and scary and I need you in my life!"

She blinked. Mikoto-sama actually shook with laughter. Shisui beamed, breathless with the force of his own stupidity.

And after a long, long pause, the girl just sighed.

"Okay."

Shisui’s heart exploded.

"Great!" he said, far too loudly. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

She frowned. "For what?"

Shisui shot her finger guns. "Friend stuff!"

Then he bolted before she could change her mind.

And that was how, at the age of five, Uchiha Shisui completely lost his entire mind over a girl with bright blue eyes and ridiculously good reflexes.

~

Shisui hadn’t meant to show up again.

Really. He’d thought back on that interaction and died inside, because what? He was supposed to be smooth and charming and effortless, not—

Whatever the hell that had been. He’d resolved to bury that interaction, to never speak of it again, to never think about it again, because if he did, he would die of embarrassment.

But then he thought about her—about red hair and sharp blue eyes, about the way she had moved, the way she had caught that kunai like it was nothing.

And before he knew it, his feet had carried him straight back to the training grounds.

Where he had proceeded to experience the four most humiliating defeats of his entire life.

~

Shisui staggered through the front door of his home like a man who had just seen a god.

Or maybe a ghost. Or maybe both.

His brain was still scrambled, his heartbeat still a little too fast, and the world still felt slightly tilted after what had just happened to him. He had never been humbled so brutally in such a short span of time, never had his entire sense of self shattered by a single person before in his entire five years of existence.

Until today. Until her.

She’d beaten him. Effortlessly. Four times in a row. In under ten seconds flat. Every time. 

It had not been a sparring session. It had been an education.

He barely managed to shove his sandals off before slumping into the doorway, staring blankly ahead. His entire life had changed, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Across the room, his father, Kagami, looked up from where he was reading a scroll, his expression amused, curious, and vaguely worried.

"Shisui?"

Shisui exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

"I met someone," he said, voice hollow.

Kagami tilted his head slightly. "Alright."

Shisui shook his head, as if that wasn’t enough. "She’s… she’s terrifying."

Kagami nodded, still watching him closely. "And?"

"And she’s really fast."

Another pause. His father was still searching for something in Shisui’s expression.

Then, with absolute devastation, Shisui whispered, "And she’s so pretty."

Kagami chuckled, setting his scroll aside. "Oh dear."

Shisui groaned and collapsed onto the floor. "What do I do?"

Kagami leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, and gave his son a long, considering look.

"Well," he said finally, "that depends."

Shisui lifted his head slightly. "On what?"

Kagami sipped his tea, utterly calm. "On when I can meet her."

Shisui choked.

Kagami smirked. "If she managed to break you this badly in one day, she must be interesting."

Shisui rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in sheer defeat.

"She is," he muttered, dazed. "She really, really is."

Kagami hummed, looking far too entertained. "Then I expect an introduction soon."

Shisui groaned. He was so doomed.

~

Shisui did not stop showing up.

It didn’t matter if the sun had barely risen, if the air was thick with morning dew, if normal people were still asleep—Shisui found her. Every. Single. Day.

And every single day, Reika smiled, handed him a kunai, and proceeded to beat the absolute hell out of him.

But, slowly, something changed.

She still won. Every time. But she started explaining things. Offering pointers. Letting him catch his breath before throwing him down again.

One morning, after she sent him sprawling into the dirt again, he groaned, rolling onto his back.

"This is humiliating," he muttered, staring up at the sky.

Reika crouched beside him, resting her arms on her knees. "Then stop losing."

Shisui grinned, still flat on the ground. "But then I wouldn’t get to see your cute victory face."

Reika shook her head, but there was a hint of a smile there. "You’re impossible."

Shisui sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you’d miss me if I stopped coming."

Reika hummed, looking at him with quiet amusement. "Maybe."

Shisui lit up. "I knew it!"

She sighed but didn’t deny it. And that was how it started.

Every morning, without fail, they sparred.

Shisui learned. He adapted. He got better. But no matter how much he improved, no matter how fast he got—

Reika was always one step ahead.

And Shisui? Shisui loved every second of it.

~

Shisui should have known this was coming.

For weeks, Kagami had been waiting—lurking—dropping casual comments like, So when do I get to meet your little sparring partner? and, Should I be worried that she’s kicking your butt every day?”

And Shisui, genius that he was, had dodged every single one.

But he had made a critical error. Because he forgot that his father was an Uchiha. Which meant Kagami had patience. Dangerous patience.

So when Kagami showed up at the training ground one morning, arms crossed, expression far too pleased, Shisui knew.

He was doomed.

~

His father appeared just as Shisui hit the ground again, kunai tumbling from his fingers as Reika stood over him, hands on her hips.

"You're getting sloppy," she noted, nudging his shin lightly with the toe of her sandal.

Shisui wheezed, limbs sprawled in the dirt. "You’re cheating."

Reika raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Shisui groaned. "You’re just—too—pretty—"

Reika snorted, kicking his side lightly. “You’re so weird.”

Kagami laughed.

Both of them froze.

Reika turned her head, blue eyes widening slightly as she took in the older Uchiha.

Shisui, still on the ground, went into full-blown panic mode.

"Oh, no."

Reika tilted her head. "Who—?"

"No one—"

"His father," Kagami interrupted smoothly, stepping forward. "Uchiha Kagami."

Reika blinked. Then, to Shisui’s horror, she bowed politely. "Uchiha-san."

Shisui died instantly.

Kagami chuckled, giving her an assessing look. "So you’re Uzumaki Reika."

Reika straightened. "I am."

Shisui sat up quickly, waving his arms frantically behind her back in an attempt to get his father to stop whatever he was planning.

Kagami ignored him.

"I’ve been hearing about you for weeks," he mused, smirking. "It’s nice to finally meet the girl who’s been wrecking my son’s ego on a daily basis."

Reika exhaled through her nose, but she was smiling. "He has a big ego."

Shisui choked. "Okay—"

"I like her," Kagami said immediately.

Reika’s smile widened. It was warm. "Thanks."

Shisui covered his face with both hands.

Kagami clapped a hand on his son’s trembling shoulder. "Shisui, since you’ve been so neglectful in introducing us, why don’t you bring Reika over for dinner tonight?"

Reika blinked in surprise, then turned to Shisui, her expression thoughtful. "Oh. That… sounds nice."

Shisui froze.

Then—

He bolted.

Full speed. Straight into a tree.

Reika winced. "Is he always like this?"

Kagami sighed, watching his son crumple to the ground. "Unfortunately."

Reika shook her head, amused. "I’ll be there."

Shisui groaned from the ground. He was so doomed.

~

Shisui had prepared himself.

Or, at least, he thought he had.

He had spent the entire day alternating between dread and excitement, pacing through the house while Kagami just watched him, looking far too entertained by the whole situation.

And then the doorbell rang. And Shisui—fool that he was—had opened the door without bracing himself.

Reika stood there, her usual loose training gear nowhere to be seen.

Instead—

She was wearing a light blue yukata.

And—

Her hair.

Her hair, which was always tied back, was down.

Shisui’s brain completely fried itself. He blue screened so hard that his body just forgot to work.

Reika frowned slightly, a little concerned. “What?”

Shisui’s mouth refused to function. His brain-to-mouth filter completely disappeared.

“You—” He flailed helplessly. “You—your hair—yukata—blue—you—so pretty—”

Reika squinted at him. “Are you having a stroke?”

Kagami appeared behind him.

“Oh,” his father said, looking way too smug. “Now I understand the problem.”

Reika tilted her head, eyes flicking to Shisui’s still-frozen form. Her face was still creased with gentle concern. “Is he okay?”

“No,” Kagami said pleasantly.

Shisui slammed the door in his own face.

~

Shisui had always considered himself a prodigy. A genius. Someone who could adapt to any situation, no matter how unexpected.

That belief had been shattered the moment Uzumaki Reika walked into his life.

And now—now, as she sat across from him at his dinner table, wearing a light blue yukata, her hair down, utterly unaware of the absolute destruction she was causing—

Shisui realized something.

He had been doomed from the very start.

~

Dinner had started normally—or at least as normal as it could be when Shisui was actively fighting for his life.

His father, ever the traitor, was perfectly at ease, smiling pleasantly as he asked Reika about her training, her interests, her favorite foods—like he wasn’t actively enjoying his son’s suffering.

Shisui, meanwhile, had said exactly four words since the meal started. Those four words had been 'pass the soy sauce.' Not even to Reika - to his father. Because he couldn't even look at her. 

Because Reika’s hair was down. And it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t even styled—just loose, falling over her shoulders, soft waves catching the lamplight. She had probably just let it down because she couldn’t be bothered to tie it up.

But to Shisui’s poor, suffering brain—

It might as well have been a war crime.

Reika, completely oblivious to the battle happening in his mind, took a bite of tempura and sighed contentedly.

“This is really good,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “I should learn how to make this.”

Shisui blacked out. For two full seconds.

Kagami glanced at him, probably sensing the absolute catastrophe brewing inside his head, and decided to make it worse.

“You cook?” he asked.

Reika shrugged, offering a small smile. “A little. Kaa-san’s better at it.”

Shisui, still malfunctioning, blurted out the worst possible thing.

“You’d make a great wife.”

Silence.

Reika blinked. “What?”

Shisui wanted to throw himself into a river.

Kagami slowly set down his tea, barely containing his laughter.

Shisui, desperate, frantically backpedaled. “I—I mean—you—not that—I mean — like — hypothetically, if you—uh—”

She just looked at him. Confused. Concerned. “Are you okay?”

Shisui grabbed his face with both hands and groaned.

Kagami patted his back. “He’s fine.”

Reika laughed, shaking her head. “If you say so.”

Shisui was not fine.

~

Somehow, by some miracle, Shisui managed to survive another fifteen minutes of dinner without saying anything incriminating. He did this by simply not speaking. At all. To either of them. 

And then—

Reika reached for another piece of tempura.

Her sleeve slipped slightly, revealing a delicate line of red hair resting against her collarbone.

Shisui’s brain fried itself on the spot. His chopsticks slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the table.

Reika blinked at him. “You keep dropping things.”

Shisui struggled to remember how to breathe.

Kagami sighed, rubbing his temple. “Reika, do you always have this effect on him?”

Reika frowned slightly, genuinely confused. “What effect?”

His father smirked. “The one where he forgets how to function as a human being.”

Reika blinked again, then tilted her head at Shisui. “… Isn’t he just like this?”

Shisui choked on air. Kagami laughed into his sleeve.

Reika just shrugged, still looking slightly puzzled, and went back to eating.

Shisui held onto the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

~

And then—

Then she mentioned her parents.

It was casual. Completely normal.

“My tou-san and kaa-san would have liked this food,” she mused, picking at a piece of tempura. “Tou-san’s always been picky, though, so I don’t know if he’d admit it.”

Kagami, ever polite, asked, “Are your parents both shinobi?”

Reika nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

Shisui, still recovering from the yukata situation, hummed absentmindedly. “Oh, cool. What do they do?”

Reika, completely oblivious to the absolute devastation she was about to cause, answered, “Well, Tou-san’s been busy with missions out-of-village, but Kaa-san works in-village.”

Kagami, sipping his tea, nodded. “Ah. What’s your tou-san’s name? I might know him. I retired only recently.”

Reika didn’t even blink. “Namikaze Minato.”

Kagami froze mid-sip. 

Shisui’s entire body locked up. His chopsticks fell from his fingers again. His brain short-circuited so hard that for a full ten seconds, his soul actually left his body.

Kagami slowly set his teacup down. “Namikaze Minato.”

Reika blinked. “Yeah, do you know him?”

Shisui made a garbled noise.

“Your father,” he whispered, distantly horrified, “is the Yellow Flash.”

Reika tilted her head. “I mean… yeah?”

Shisui had to lie down. He slipped out of seiza and just kind of… fell over. And lay there. On the tatami. Staring at the wall.

Kagami was visibly struggling to process this.

And then - 

And then - 

Reika, as if she hadn’t just shattered Shisui’s entire worldview, added, “Kaa-san’s scarier, though.”

Kagami, now fully recovered and deeply entertained, leaned forward. “Oh? And your kaa-san is?”

Reika, completely unbothered, said, “Uzumaki Kushina.”

Shisui died instantly.

Kagami chuckled, rubbing his chin. “Ah. The Bloody Habanero.”

Shisui sat up violently. “YOU’RE TELLING ME I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH THE DAUGHTER OF THE YELLOW FLASH AND THE BLOODY HABANERO?!”

Reika frowned. “You’ve been flirting?”

Shisui grabbed his face, whispering in absolute agony, “I am so dead.”

Kagami patted his son’s catatonic form. “You did this to yourself.”

Reika stared in confusion. “I… don’t know what’s happening.”

~

By the time Reika left, Shisui was still fighting for his life.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Kagami collapsed onto the couch, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Shisui dragged a hand down his face.

“I need to lie down.”

“You need therapy.”

Shisui flopped onto the floor. “I need a new life.”

His father smirked. “So. You gonna tell her?”

Shisui squinted up at him. “Tell her what?”

Kagami grinned.

“That you’re absolutely gone for her.”

Shisui made a pained wheezing noise.

Kagami just grinned. “You’d make a great wife,” he mocked.

Shisui groaned loudly into the floor.

He was never living this down.

~

Shisui had been through a lot in his short life.

He had trained under chuunin-level shinobi. He had sparred against grown adults before he even hit puberty. He had mastered the Shunshin before most kids his age had mastered basic coordination.

And yet.

Yet none of that had prepared him for the absolute disaster that was Uzumaki Reika casually ruining his life in the span of one dinner.

And now, as he lay face-down on the tatami floor, contemplating every single decision that had led him to this exact moment, his father was not helping.

~

“So. You have a crush on her.”

Shisui groaned into the floor. "I don’t."

Kagami sipped his tea slowly, looking like he had been waiting his entire life for this conversation. "Mmhm."

Shisui glared at him. "I don't!"

Kagami set his tea down, entirely too amused. "So, just to be clear—you’re saying you are not hopelessly infatuated with the girl who just spent the last two hours casually breaking your brain?"

Shisui flailed wildly, sitting up and pointing accusingly. "She doesn’t even know she’s doing it!"

Kagami laughed.

"I know," he said, delighted, "and that’s even worse."

Shisui made a loud, pained noise and collapsed backward again. "I need to leave the village."

Kagami raised an eyebrow. "Little dramatic, don’t you think?"

Shisui rolled onto his stomach and groaned into the floor again. "She’s the Yellow Flash’s daughter!"

Kagami hummed. "And the Bloody Habanero’s."

Shisui let out a strangled wheeze. "I’M FLIRTING WITH A LITERAL WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION."

Kagami smirked. "And you’re doing a terrible job of it."

Shisui choked. "WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

Kagami sat back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Well, considering the fact that she thinks you’re just like this naturally—"

Shisui flopped onto his side, pure despair on his face. "She thinks this is just who I am."

Kagami nodded solemnly. "She does."

Shisui whispered in horror, "She thinks I’m just… broken."

Kagami snorted. "She’s not wrong."

Shisui grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.

~

For the next several days, Shisui tried to convince himself that he was fine.

That he could function normally around Reika. That he was not hopelessly gone for her. That he would not continue making an absolute fool of himself every time she so much as looked at him.

This, obviously, was a lie.

Because when he saw her again, wearing her usual training gear, hair back in a ponytail, kunai in hand, ready to beat him senseless as usual—

Shisui immediately malfunctioned again.

Because all he could think about was the yukata.

And her hair down.

And the way she casually mentioned her father was the fastest man alive like it wasn’t a big deal.

Reika blinked. "You’re staring."

Shisui panicked. "NO, I’M NOT."

Reika squinted. "You are."

Shisui, scrambling, blurted the worst thing possible.

"Your eyes are so blue."

Reika sighed, but it was more amused than exasperated. "We’re back to this again?"

Shisui wheezed.

~

Shisui knew he had to fix this. He couldn’t keep spiraling every time Reika breathed. It wasn’t sustainable. For both his life and whatever few shreds of dignity he had left.

So he did the only logical thing. He tried not thinking about her at all.

This lasted exactly two hours before he found himself watching her train again, because apparently, he had no self-control.

And then, in his infinite wisdom, he thought: maybe if I just don’t say anything, she won’t notice I’m malfunctioning.

This did not work. Because Reika definitely noticed.

"Why are you being weird?" she asked, watching him closely.

Shisui flailed. "I’M NOT—"

She tilted her head, a hint of concern in her expression. "You’re twitching."

Shisui, who was definitely twitching, made a garbled, staticky noise that did not sound like it had come from human vocal cords.

Reika exhaled, shaking her head before reaching for a kunai. "You’re weirder than normal today."

Shisui whispered in horror, "I have a disease."

Reika blinked. "And what disease is that?"

Shisui made direct eye contact with her, entirely too miserable. "I think I like you."

Reika stilled for just a moment, then— she laughed. Soft, warm, genuine.

Shisui froze. Oh.

"That’s not a disease," she said lightly.

Shisui forgot how to breathe. Oh, no.

Reika picked up another kunai, tilting her head. "Unless you’re allergic to emotions?"

Shisui could not breathe. OH, NO.

Reika grinned at him slyly. Playfully. "Are you?"

Shisui grabbed his own face, whispering, "I need to lie down."

Reika rolled her eyes, tossing him the kunai. "If you’re gonna be weird about it, at least make yourself useful."

Shisui groaned loudly into the sky.

~

By the end of the week, Shisui finally admitted it to himself.

There was no escape. He was doomed.

Because every single time he saw Reika, his entire brain refused to work.

Because she was too fast and too dangerous and too pretty and too casual about the fact that she could kill him instantly - and he liked that. A lot.

Because she didn’t even realize what she was doing to him.

Because every time he tried to recover, she would say something completely normal, like “Did you eat yet?” or “You need to sleep more,” and he would have to physically stop himself from proposing on the spot (again). 

So, by the end of the week, Shisui just gave up.

He accepted that he was never winning again.

He accepted that his soul now belonged to Uzumaki Reika.

And when Reika looked at him, confused as ever, and asked, "What’s wrong with you?"

Shisui just sighed deeply and said, "It’s fine. This is my life now."

Reika nodded. "Good. You’re finally adapting."

Shisui wheezed. "That is not what’s happening."

And Reika, completely oblivious to the catastrophe that was his entire existence, just tossed him a kunai and said, "You’re still losing today."

Shisui caught it with shaking hands and whispered, completely and utterly wrecked, "Yeah. I know."

~

Shisui had decided, after weeks of relentless mental suffering, that he was going to be normal today.

It was a simple plan. Flawless, even. He would show up, spar with Reika, and have a conversation like a regular human being. No brain malfunctions, no dumb comments, no immediate urge to throw himself into the nearest body of water. And absolutely not one single mention of how blue her eyes were. 

Easy. Except—

"Shisui," Reika said, standing over him, a kunai casually resting against his collarbone, "are you malfunctioning again?"

Shisui blinked up at her, dazed. "No."

Reika frowned. "You didn’t even dodge that."

Shisui groaned and covered his face with one hand. "I was distracted."

Reika tilted her head. "By what?"

"Your—" He stopped himself. Took a deep breath. Do not say ‘your eyes,’ do not say ‘your hair,’ do not say ‘you.’ "Nothing."

Reika gave him a long, skeptical look.

Shisui, with immense effort, pulled himself together. Sat up. Cleared his throat. "Let’s go again."

Reika didn’t argue. She never did. She just flicked the kunai back into her holster, took a step back, and got into a stance.

And Shisui—Shisui was fine. Really. He was doing great.

Until she looked at him.

Just a glance. A shift in her weight, the way she poised herself for the next move, the way her sharp blue eyes flicked over him like she already knew what he was going to do before he did it—

And just like that, all his words fell out of his brain.

Reika sighed. She’d noticed instantly. Because of course she had. 

"You’re thinking too much," she said, adjusting her grip on the kunai. "You always think too much."

Shisui opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then forced himself to focus.

"Right," he said, shaking his head. "Right. You’re right."

Reika nodded. "Good."

And then she lunged.

And this time—this time—Shisui actually kept up.

It was different now. He had learned. His body reacted faster, his instincts sharper. He sidestepped her first strike, countered the second, and when she spun midair to land a kick, he dodged just in time.

Reika smiled.

It was a small thing. Barely there. But Shisui caught it.

And suddenly, the whole world felt a little brighter.

~

It wasn’t that Shisui stopped thinking she was terrifying.

He still did.

It wasn’t that he stopped thinking she was pretty.

He absolutely still did.

But at some point, it stopped being so obvious.

At some point, he got better at talking to her.

At some point, he learned how to breathe properly around her.

At some point, he could actually spar without making an absolute fool of himself.

At some point, he could compliment her without blacking out before, during, and/or after.

(Usually)

(... Fine, only sometimes)

He still teased her. Still pushed her buttons just to see what she’d do. But now, instead of a frozen brain and immediate regret, he could actually handle himself.

And maybe—just maybe—she noticed, too.

One morning, after another spar, Reika casually glanced at him and said, "You’ve gotten better.”

Shisui grinned. "High praise."

Reika shrugged. "It’s true."

Shisui leaned forward slightly, smirking. "Does this mean you’re finally impressed by me?"

Reika raised an eyebrow. "You think I wasn’t already?"

Shisui immediately regressed into his old ways and short-circuited.

Reika didn’t wait for him to recover. She just tossed him a kunai and said, "Again."

Shisui caught it with shaking hands.

"Oh," he whispered, staring at her in absolute awe. "Oh, I am never recovering from this."

Reika sighed, but it was fond.

"Stop being weird."

"Never."

And, despite herself, Reika smiled.

Shisui was so, so doomed.

Chapter Text

Reika hadn’t known Uchiha Shisui in her past life. Not at all, actually. 

She’d known of him, of course - everyone knew of Shunshin no Shisui, prodigy of the Uchiha Clan alongside Itachi. But she’d never met him. Not because she’d avoided him - just because their paths had simply never crossed. 

He’d had a reputation for being charming, smooth, a flirt. Right up until the day he’d died.

… Honestly, Reika couldn’t see it. At all, actually. 

~

Reika had long since accepted that Shisui was just… like that.

For a while, she had assumed he was just an excitable person, easily flustered, prone to dramatics. And that was still true. But over time, she had noticed something else—he was a little less weird around her now. Not normal, exactly, because she doubted that would ever happen, but better. More composed. Less prone to panicked, incoherent yelling when she looked at him for too long.

(she still had no idea what had ever prompted that)

He still said strange things sometimes. He still got distracted in the middle of training, spacing out or staring at her like he’d forgotten how to breathe. But he functioned now. More or less.

And Reika had decided that this was just how he was. Because she’d never known him to act any differently.

She had never really given it much thought. Shisui was just Shisui—loud, fast, reckless, and endlessly dramatic. He teased her constantly, tried to make her react, always testing the limits of how much patience she was willing to extend to him.

And she let him.

Because Shisui was fun. And maybe—maybe she liked that.

Maybe she liked how effortlessly he made her laugh. Maybe she liked that he never let her retreat into herself. Maybe she liked the way his presence had started to feel like something steady. Something reliable.

Something she could count on.

~

Their sparring matches lasted longer now.

Shisui still made jokes mid-fight, still talked too much when he should have been focused, but his movements had become sharper, his footwork more deliberate. He was adjusting, watching her more closely, anticipating her attacks instead of just reacting to them.

And Reika found herself looking forward to their spars more than she wanted to admit.

"You almost landed that last hit," she noted as they broke apart, breathing heavier than before.

Shisui grinned, resting his hands on his hips. "Almost? No faith in me at all, huh?"

Reika shrugged, tossing her kunai from one hand to the other. "You’ll have to do better than ‘almost.’"

Shisui let out an exaggerated sigh. "You set impossible standards, you know that?"

Reika tilted her head, smirking slightly. "You’re the one trying to meet them."

Shisui blinked at her, then barked out a laugh. "Alright, alright. One more round."

She nodded, settling into a stance. "One more."

And when Shisui lunged at her, she was ready.

~

And then, little by little, things began to unravel. Minato’s missions became just a little more frequent, just a little longer. Kushina began to stay longer and longer at the office, and even at home, she’d stare at seals, theorizing and updating and maintaining. Mikoto still trained her regularly, but Hizashi’s lessons had all but stopped due to his steady stream of missions. In the village, there was more tension in adults’ faces, and Reika knew. So did her parents - they’d resolved to focus on preventing the Kannabi Bridge incident - the loss of Obito, the events that’d lead to Rin’s kidnapping and death - then take care of everything else afterwards. One thing at a time. 

It’d been a year since she’d sent herself to the past. Soon, very soon - she didn’t remember the exact date, but she knew it was soon - Hatake Sakumo would choose his comrades over his mission, and then, days after war was announced, he’d take his own life. 

Reika felt the oncoming deadline like a hand around her throat. She knew she needed to act on her foreknowledge - not to prevent the war, which had been inevitable with the way the Second Shinobi War had ended; and not to prevent the mission, which none of them had any control over; but to save Kakashi’s father. 

She refused to let Kakashi suffer through the pain of losing a father. Not when she knew how that felt, not when she knew how much it must’ve hurt him. He might not know her anymore, but he still deserved to grow up with a father. She’d never let him suffer if she could do something to prevent it. 

The only problem, Reika thought wryly, was how. 

~

In the end, she decided to brute-force it. She should've done this earlier, but the truth was - she'd been avoiding Kakashi since she'd gone back in time. Not that it was difficult - he was still an Academy student, and she doubted he knew she even existed. But that was why it hurt, because not even a year ago, in her perspective, they had belonged to each other. 

And now, he had no clue who she was. Which was why she'd been avoiding him, because when he looked at her and saw her as the stranger she was in this life - she didn't know if she could hide her heartbreak. 

But she had to find him. To establish herself as his friend before his father failed his mission. Because should she fail to save Sakumo, then Kakashi would need someone. And if no one else would be there for him - then it had to be her. 

(and maybe there was a part of her that wanted, needed, him to see her as more than a stranger. Even if they'd only ever just be friends in this life)

~

The first sign of him was that familiar chakra signature she'd once known as well as her own - a distant crackle of lightning, something dark and ferocious without the subtle shift it’d develop after gaining a Sharingan. 

The second sign of him was the distant thwack of wood splintering.  

Reika blinked, slowing her steps as she made her way toward the training grounds. It was a familiar sound—the unmistakable crack of kunai hitting a practice post with too much force. 

Another impact followed, then another. 

Determinedly, she headed towards it. Normally, the Academy students trained in designated areas closer to the school, but he had clearly wandered farther away. That wasn’t unusual in itself—sometimes kids wanted privacy. But the sheer intensity of the strikes gave her pause, despite knowing what she’d see.  

As she stepped past a row of trees, the breath caught in her throat.

A boy, no older than six or seven, stood in the middle of the training ground, panting slightly. His silver hair was unmistakable, even from a distance. 

She swallowed. For a moment, her vision wavered, and she saw him as he’d been at twelve, holding Naruto oh-so-carefully in his arms. She saw his slouched form standing over a sleeping Naruto, watching to make sure he was still breathing. She saw the look of anticipation on his face, the stillness of his posture, when they’d been about to kiss for the first time, when he'd pulled down his mask and let her see him. She saw that terrible smile he’d given her for the last time, the way his eye had curved, the way there’d been an apology in the way he’d looked at her. 

Then the images faded, and all that was left was reality. 

Because this Kakashi was different. It wasn’t just that he was far, far younger - it was the way he moved, the way he carried himself, the look in his eyes. Her Kakashi had been weary and tired, afraid of getting close because he’d already lost too much but then letting himself care anyway. This one just seemed… prickly.

Reika exhaled. The pain was still there, the grief was still there, and it was bad, but - it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. 

She missed her Kakashi. She always would. But her Kakashi was dead. 

This Kakashi wasn’t hers. He never would be, never could be. But he was still lonely. She could tell - she saw it in the way he held himself, stiff and tense. In the way he was alone. In the way he moved, precisely, too precisely, like he’d convinced himself that he needed no one but himself. 

But she knew otherwise. At least, she thought she did. Hoped she did. 

Reika stepped closer, watching as he adjusted his grip and flung another kunai. It hit dead center, splitting the wood slightly.  

Impressive. But there was tension in his posture, a sharpness that had nothing to do with technique. His stance was a little too rigid.  

She didn’t realize she had moved closer until his head snapped up.  

Dark eyes locked onto her instantly. It was strange, seeing both his eyes at once, not seeing the redness of the ever-present Sharingan spinning when he looked at her, not seeing the hitai-ate he’d always had pulled over it.

Because he didn’t have his Sharingan in this life. And if she had anything to say about it, he never would.

Reika stopped mid-step, feeling like she was approaching a wild animal. The ache in her chest intensified. 

He didn’t even know who she was. That hurt in a way she had expected, but just because it'd been anticipated didn't mean it hurt any less.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.  

Then, Kakashi’s gaze flicked down to her weapons pouch. His fingers twitched slightly near his own kunai holster, as if debating whether she was a threat.  

Reika smiled, lifting her hands in a peaceful gesture. “Hey,” she said lightly, pretending her heart wasn’t breaking, shattering inside her chest. “You’re pretty good.”  

Kakashi stared at her for a long second, then turned away. “Go away.”  

Reika blinked. “Huh?”  

“I don’t need a spectator,” he said coolly, already throwing another kunai. It struck the target perfectly, but the force behind it sent splinters flying.  

Reika tilted her head, stepping onto the training ground fully. “I was just passing through,” she lied. 

Kakashi didn’t acknowledge her. His next throw was even sharper.  

She frowned slightly, watching his movements. His form was clean—almost textbook-perfect — but there was something off.

“You’re gripping too tight,” she said suddenly.  

Kakashi’s arm twitched slightly, but he didn’t turn.  

Reika folded her arms. “You’re overcompensating. If you hold the kunai too hard, your release is stiff.”  

Finally, Kakashi turned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t need advice,” he said flatly.  

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You do unless you’re trying to break your wrist with that grip.”  

For a moment, she thought he might ignore her again. But then, he shifted slightly, fingers flexing around the handle of his kunai.  

“… Show me.”  

Reika blinked. That was unexpected. She inhaled, carefully concealing her emotions.

She walked forward, stopping beside him. “Here,” she said, gesturing toward his hand. “Can I?”  

He hesitated, then nodded once, stiffly.  

Gently, she adjusted his fingers, refusing to let it affect her, loosening the tension. “You’re not wrestling it into submission,” she said quietly. “Relax.”  

Kakashi frowned but followed her lead. When she stepped back, he threw the kunai again.  

This time, it struck clean, straight into the center. No unnecessary splinters.  

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t comment.  

Reika smiled and pretend she wasn’t tearing apart at the seams. “See?”  

Kakashi studied her for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded.  

“… You’re not bad.”  

Reika grinned. “Thanks.”  

A pause.  

Then, quietly, almost reluctantly—  

“I’m Hatake Kakashi.”  

Reika’s chest tightened. I know.

But she only smiled, offering her hand. “Uzumaki Reika. Nice to meet you, Kakashi.”  

He stared at her hand for a moment, then—with only slight hesitation—shook it.  

It was small. A simple thing. But as their fingers briefly clasped, Reika knew—this was the start of something important.

And every part of her ached. 

~

That night, at dinner, she picked at her food. Her parents, of course, noticed immediately. 

“Everything alright?” her father prompted. 

Reika studied her plate, pushing a slice of pork around. “I met Kakashi today,” she said quietly. 

“He helped you raise Naruto, didn’t he?” her mother asked carefully.

“Yeah. We were essentially co-parents. Naruto called him Kashi-nii.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“So you two must’ve been close,” Minato said, his voice gentle. 

Reika swallowed. Her grip on her chopsticks tightened. “Yeah,” she whispered. “We were close. And now he doesn’t know me.” 

Her father gently pried the chopsticks from her grip, holding her hand in both of his. “It must’ve been difficult.”

“It was,” she said, her voice small. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” her mother asked softly. 

Reika shook her head. She didn’t think she could. 

“Thanks, though,” she said quietly, because she appreciated them. She just - couldn’t talk about it. Not right now, with the wound still fresh and bleeding.

Minato squeezed her hand. “Anytime. If you ever change your mind, we’ll be here.”

Something settled inside her. “Yeah,” she whispered, “I know.”

~

Reika knew Kakashi well enough to know that he wasn’t easy to befriend, even as a child. Maybe especially as a child. He was guarded, reserved in a way that even other shinobi children weren’t. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly—just distant.

She could understand that. He’d spent his whole life being unable to relate to other kids, more interested in training than playing, a prodigy set apart by his own skill. It had to be lonely, but he’d gotten used to it by now. Protected it, even. Which meant she had to work slowly.

So, she made a conscious effort to be around, to let him grow used to her presence. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, just trained beside him, offering casual remarks or teasing challenges. And slowly, ever so slowly, the ice around him started to crack. 

… Now that she thought about it, she really was treating him like a stray cat. 

It started with training. Kakashi was relentless in his pursuit of perfection, but he soon found that Reika matched him in determination. They sparred together, pushed each other, and in moments of exhaustion, collapsed onto the training ground side by side, catching their breath in comfortable silence.

Then, it extended to conversation. Short exchanges at first, clipped and practical. But as the weeks passed, Kakashi began answering in full sentences, offering his own observations and, on rare occasions, even a dry remark that bordered on humor.

By the time summer ended, they had settled into something that felt suspiciously like friendship. 

Something in Reika’s chest loosened at the thought. Kakashi was back in her life, now - not the way he’d been before, but he was back all the same. And something inside her settled. 

She’d never stop loving the Kakashi she’d known, but this Kakashi wasn’t hers. Wouldn’t ever be hers. 

And, for the first time, Reika tried to let herself be okay with that. 

She still saw echoes of her Kakashi in the way this one moved. But - they were so different, and it didn’t happen often. It was easier than she’d expected to pretend to learn him, because she was learning him. 

He wasn’t her Kakashi. He could’ve been, but he wasn’t. And - if she had anything to say about it - he’d never become the man she’d known and loved. Never. 

Because if he did - if he was shaped by the same events that’d happened last time - that’d mean she’d failed. And she couldn’t fail. Because, at the end of the day, she’d chosen this time period specifically - not just to save her parents, not just to prevent the Fourth War, not just to give Naruto a chance to have more than just a makeshift family - but because it meant she could undo Kakashi’s suffering. 

When she’d been designing the seal that’d sent her back in time, she’d had a choice: to go back to the beginning and have a chance to fix everything; or to keep him. And it had never been a choice at all - she’d chosen this. Chosen to erase herself from him, chosen to erase them from him, chosen to take herself away like she’d never existed, like she’d never loved him. 

And she had to live with that. Even if it hurt - especially if it hurt.

Even if it meant he’d never love her again. Even if he’d never look at her with that same, unguarded softness in his eyes. Even if she broke her own heart - it’d be worth it, as long as she could save those closest to her. 

~

The next time she and Kakashi trained together, the air between them was different. Not a big shift—nothing overt. But as Reika threw her shuriken, her eyes drifted over to Kakashi, and for the first time, he caught her gaze. She saw it then—a fleeting flicker of something in his expression, something soft. 

And suddenly, the ache in her chest was almost unbearable. 

“Your aim’s getting better,” Kakashi said, his voice slightly less guarded than before.

Reika smiled, lowering her arm after another perfect throw. “Thanks,” she replied casually, though she felt brittle, fragile, one wrong move away from shattering. There it was. A crack in the ice.

She should be happy. Instead, she wanted to fall apart.

Kakashi, for his part, didn’t let the moment linger. He moved to retrieve his kunai from the training post, his usual cool demeanor quickly returning. But there was a warmth to his posture now, a less tense edge that hadn’t been there before.

They fell into rhythm again, moving from one drill to the next, training as they always did. But every now and then, their eyes would meet across the field, and for just a second, there was no guard between them. Reika felt it—the slow, quiet understanding blooming between them, like the gradual unfurling of a flower’s petals in the morning sun.

And Reika kept breathing. Kept on holding herself together. And though the ache didn’t go away, it got easier to pretend. 

~

Later that evening, they walked back toward the village side by side, their pace slow, unhurried. The setting sun bathed the ground in soft orange light, and the air was cool with the promise of dusk. They didn’t speak much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. For once, it felt natural.

Reika glanced sideways at Kakashi, noticing the way his hands flexed as he walked. It was small, but it was a sign. He wasn’t completely closed off anymore.

"You've been quiet today," she said, her voice casual, testing the waters.

Kakashi didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, she thought he might brush her off, as he often did when asked personal questions. But then, his voice came, low and steady.

“I’m just... thinking,” he said. “About things.”

Reika nodded. She knew he wasn’t the type to explain himself unless he truly wanted to. And Kakashi, in his own time, would open up. She wasn’t in a rush to have him spill his every thought. She was content with the progress they’d made. Friendship, she had come to realize, was often more about understanding the quiet spaces between words than it was about constant conversation.

“Well, if you ever need someone to help with your thinking, I’m here,” Reika said with a playful smile. "I’m a pro at distracting people from their thoughts.”

Kakashi glanced at her, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Reika held his gaze for a moment longer before looking away, still smiling. Still pretending like the way his eyes had softened hadn’t sent a sharp spear of pain through her heart. Because that - that softness - was familiar, and she hated that, because it meant she needed to stop pretending that this Kakashi and her Kakashi weren’t two different people, just versions of the same one. Still Kakashi. Still fundamentally the same. 

And she didn’t want to think about what that meant. So she didn’t. 

~

Over the next few weeks, the changes in their relationship became more pronounced. Kakashi was still, in many ways, the same distant boy he’d always been, but now, he shared more moments of near-vulnerability with Reika. He started joining her for lunch, sitting at the same bench in the training grounds, even if it was just in silence.

The ache in her chest was still there. Sometimes, when she caught him looking at her with that near-softness in his eyes, she’d feel it all the way down to her fingertips, and her jaw would hurt. Because it was familiar, too familiar, and she couldn’t deal with that. 

They trained together almost every day, pushing one another, sharing amusement together over small jokes, the occasional tease. Every time they finished a training session, they’d sit side by side, their breaths heavy and their bodies sore, but their spirits light.

At least, that was what Reika pretended. Sometimes she felt brittle, one strong wind away from shattering entirely - when Kakashi would look at her with amusement in his eyes, it’d feel like all the air had been stolen from her lungs. Because it was familiar in the worst possible way. 

She never let it show. She couldn’t let it show. So she pretended, and though it got easier to pretend, the ache never went away. But she would take friendship over being a stranger to him, because he needed a friend, and she needed him.

It was pathetic. She knew that. She hated herself for it, sometimes. But she couldn’t help how she felt. 

Kakashi’s walls weren’t gone. They were still there, buried deep beneath layers of defense. But now, Reika could see cracks in those walls—small fissures that she knew, given time, would widen.

And she was willing to wait. She had to be. 

~

Reika fell into a routine. She’d train with Shisui in the mornings, train with Kakashi after he finished at the Academy, and then she’d practice her calligraphy at night. It was nice. Stable. She’d have fun in the mornings, pretend she wasn’t breaking apart in the afternoons, and empty her mind at night. 

And as the pretending got easier, she, for the first time in a year, found herself almost content. 

~

Soon, though, the Academy ended. Kakashi graduated early at the top of his class and became her father’s apprentice. Shisui suddenly had a whole lot more free time, and their training sessions picked up a notch. Mikoto was pregnant with Itachi. In Reika’s own time and with her mother, she’d finally started making basic storage seals.

Reika turned five in the heat of August, not that it was important. Her parents, sensing her disinterest, simply made a bigger dinner than usual with all her favourites and presented her with a new brush and ink set. Kakashi greeted her with a simple “Happy Birthday,” Hizashi was off on a mission, Mikoto gave her some new kunai, and Shisui… well. He’d presented her with a new pair of gloves, looking like he was near death, and almost passed out when Reika had beamed at him.

~

Then, a week before the Academy was set to begin, Hatake Sakumo failed his mission. Whispers spread through Konoha like the rustling of leaves, soft but omnipresent and impossible to ignore. 

Reika swallowed when she heard. Her parents looked at her, sadness in their gazes. They’d known - had talked about it. But there’d been nothing they could’ve done. They weren’t in charge of the missions the Hokage sent out, and a Third War was inevitable considering the lingering tensions from the end of the Second. 

“It’s not fair,” Reika said quietly. “The village will condemn him, but - it’s not fair.”

“No,” Kushina agreed, uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s not.” 

Reika swallowed. She looked down at her half-eaten breakfast. “May I be excused? I’m going to go see the Hatakes.” She paused. “Maybe I could bring food?”

Something flickered in Minato’s eyes, something like pride. “Good idea.” 

~

She took a breath and knocked on the door of Kakashi and Sakumo’s home.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then, footsteps. Slow, measured. The door creaked open, and Kakashi stood there.

The moment she saw his face, she knew—

He already believed what the village was saying.

~

Kakashi let her inside without a word.

Reika stepped over the threshold, immediately aware of how wrong the house felt, even though she’d never been here before. The lights were dim, the air was stale, and there was a suffocating stillness in the space that made her skin crawl.

Her eyes flickered toward the main hallway. The doors to the bedrooms were closed.

Kakashi’s father wasn’t even in the room, and yet his presence—or rather, the absence of it—hung in the air like a wound.

Reika exhaled softly, setting the bentos down on the table. “I brought food,” she said carefully, watching Kakashi for a reaction.

He barely glanced at it. “Not hungry.”

Reika frowned. “Liar.”

Kakashi finally turned to her, and for the first time, she realized—he was angry.

Not just upset. Not just frustrated. There was a coldness in his posture, something simmering just beneath the surface, and it took her a moment to understand.

It wasn’t grief. It was resentment.

She inhaled sharply. “Kakashi.”

His jaw clenched.

She stepped closer. “What happened?”

He let out a short, humorless breath, eyes narrowing. “You already know,” he said, voice clipped.

She swallowed. “I know what the village is saying.”

Kakashi’s eyes darkened. “Then you know the truth.”

Reika felt something in her chest tighten. “Their version of the truth,” she corrected.

Kakashi stared at her, something sharp flickering across his expression. “What other version is there?”

She took another step forward. “Kakashi, your father—”

“He broke the rules.”

She froze.

Kakashi’s voice was cold, detached—like he was reciting facts, not speaking about his own father.

“He had a mission,” Kakashi continued, crossing his arms. “A clear objective. He failed it.”

Reika’s stomach churned. “He didn’t fail it. He chose—”

“To abandon it,” Kakashi cut in sharply. “He put the lives of his teammates above the mission, and because of that, Konoha suffered the consequences.”

Reika stared at him.

She had known this Kakashi to be strict about the rules. He followed the textbook to perfection, even in his fights - it made him predictable, sometimes.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just him being logical. This was—

“You’re blaming him,” she whispered, realization settling like a weight in her chest.

Kakashi’s eyes flickered—briefly, barely noticeable—but she saw it.

“I’m not blaming him,” he said, voice eerily steady. “I’m stating facts. The mission was given, and it was his duty to complete it.”

Reika inhaled sharply, anger simmering beneath her skin. “His duty—? Kakashi, he saved people.”

“And he doomed more in the process.”

Reika’s hands curled into fists. “That’s not fair. A Third War was inevitable the moment the Second War ended.”

Kakashi’s shoulders tensed. “You don’t know that.”

She snapped. It was the first time in this life she’d gotten genuinely angry with him.

“That’s not what this is about, and you know it,” she said, voice rising. “You’re upset because you think he made the wrong choice, but what was he supposed to do? Just let his team die?”

Kakashi’s expression didn’t waver. “The mission comes first.”

Reika stared at him, something in her chest cracking.

“Do you even hear yourself?” she whispered, barely breathing. “The mission comes first? Before human lives? Before your comrades?”

Kakashi remained silent.

She took another step forward, standing so close now that she could see the exhaustion in his face—the shadows beneath his eyes, the way his hands were balled into tight fists at his sides.

But he wasn’t breaking.

He was forcing himself to be colder.

Reika exhaled sharply as realization struck. “You’re afraid.”

Kakashi’s jaw locked.

“You’re afraid of what this means,” she said, watching him carefully. “Afraid of what happens if you admit that the rules aren’t always right. That your father—your own father—did what he thought was right, and the village is punishing him for it.”

Kakashi’s breath was slow. Controlled.

“You’re afraid that if you accept that… then everything else you believe in—everything you’ve built yourself around—falls apart.”

Silence.

A thick, heavy, painful silence.

Then—

Kakashi’s spoke, his voice quiet and even.

“If the mission isn’t absolute, then what is?”

Reika’s throat tightened.

Kakashi had spent his entire life following the rules. Because he had to. Because he had always been told that rules were what held everything together.

And now?

Now, his father—the man he had looked up to, the White Fang of Konoha—had disobeyed them. Had put people before the mission.

And now, the entire village had turned on him for it.

Reika took a shaky breath. “Kakashi—”

“I have things to do,” he muttered, turning away from her.

Reika’s stomach dropped.

She reached for his arm. “Kakashi, don’t—”

He pulled away.

She froze. Something inside her ached.

Kakashi didn’t look back at her. “You should go home.”

Her hands clenched. She opened her mouth, then closed it. This wasn’t a battle she could win today.

So she took a step back. And then another.

But before she turned, she whispered, “Your father is a good man.”

Kakashi didn’t respond. But his fingers twitched.

She left.

And as she walked out of their home, heart pounding in her chest, she prayed—truly prayed—that he wouldn’t regret this if it was too late.

~

Minato was waiting for her when she got home. Kushina had gone to work, but since he now had an apprentice to train, he was in the village more often than not. He looked up from some diagrams, and his smile faltered when he saw the look on her face. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, ignoring the papers completely. 

Reika swallowed. “I… Kakashi blames his father,” she said, her voice quiet. 

Minato’s expression didn’t quite change, but something saddened in his eyes. “Yes, I imagine he would.” 

“I don’t -” She hesitated. “I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know if he wants my help.” 

He put a hand on her head, making her look up at him. His smile, when he offered it, was gentle. 

“Just be there for him,” he said softly. “Let him know you’re there for him. You can’t force him to change his mind.” 

She nodded, eyes prickling with tears. “I just… I’m worried about Sakumo-san, too,” she admitted. “If even his own son blames him…” She swallowed. “In my past life, he took his life to atone.”

“Ah.” Minato exhaled. “I see. I’ll speak with the Hokage so see what we can do, and I’ll reach out myself, but - I can’t make any promises.” His eyes were sad as he looked at her. “People need to want help for it to work, Reika.” 

“I understand,” Reika whispered. She lurched towards her father, instinctively seeking the comfort of a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her instantly, resting his chin on top of her head. 

“We’ll do our best,” Minato said quietly. “That’s all we can really do.” 

She nodded, pressing her face into his chest. “I know.” 

~

Reika had gone to the Hatake house again the next day.

Kakashi had barely looked at her.

She had tried, again and again, to reach him. But every time, he withdrew further. He buried himself in training, in mission reports, in anything that would keep him from having to think.

Then, a week later, war was declared. And she knew she was running out of time. So she waited, waited until Kakashi left for a training session with her father, and she went to the Hatake house. Sakumo was sitting on the front porch, staring at nothing.

Reika clenched her jaw and sat beside him.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“I failed.”

His voice was hoarse. Quiet. Like he hadn’t spoken in days.

Reika exhaled through her nose. “That’s not true.”

Sakumo’s shoulders remained still. “Isn’t it?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she let the quiet settle again. Let the weight of his words sit between them, let him hear them out loud.

Finally, she murmured, “Do you regret it?”

His hands twitched.

She turned her head slightly, watching his profile.

His answer was slow. Deliberate.

“No.”

Reika closed her eyes.

“Then it wasn’t failure.”

Sakumo let out a soft breath, barely more than an exhale. “The village disagrees.”

Reika curled her fingers against the fabric of her pants. “The village is wrong.”

Sakumo didn’t laugh. Didn’t scoff. Just sat there, unmoving.

Then, at last, he turned his head slightly, his gaze sliding toward her. His eyes were tired. Distant.

“You’re Minato’s daughter.”

Reika nodded. “I am.”

A pause.

Then—

“You remind me of him.”

Her throat tightened. 

Good. Because Minato wouldn’t let him drown in this.

Reika shifted, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows against her knees. “Sakumo-san,” she said, keeping her voice steady, “Kakashi needs you.”

Something in his face flinched.

Reika pressed on. “He looks up to you. He believes in you. If you… if you give up, what do you think that’ll do to him?”

Sakumo closed his eyes.

Reika swallowed. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t let the village take you away from him.”

Silence.

Then—

A shaky breath.

“…I don’t know if I can.”

Reika turned fully now, facing him. “Then let us help.”

Sakumo’s hands clenched.

For the first time since she had arrived, he looked at her. Really looked at her. And his eyes… they were empty. 

“You should go,” he said quietly. 

Reika stared at him. “Sakumo-san -”

He exhaled and looked away. “Please.”

He didn’t want her there. She didn’t know what more she could say, what more she could do. She wanted to tie him down, scream at him, make him give her his sword so he couldn’t use it to harm himself. She wanted to drag him into the psychiatric ward at the hospital - except, that ward didn’t exist yet. Tsunade had added it after becoming Hokage. She wanted to push for him to go to therapy, but it wasn’t offered in these situations, not yet. She wanted - she wanted - to do something, anything, that would help him, save him - 

But the resources weren’t there. Nothing was there. There were no supports, no professionals he could turn to - 

“Please,” he repeated quietly. 

And there was nothing more she could do without him letting her. 

So she left, feeling like she was making a terrible mistake. 

~

The next day, she felt his chakra dim.

~

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, pushing past villagers who barely noticed the tragedy that had unfolded in their own village. They had whispered behind Sakumo’s back, mocked his failure, dismissed him like he was nothing.

And now, they wouldn’t care.

Reika cared. She’d felt that chakra, so much like Kakashi’s, flicker and dim.

She reached the house, heart pounding in her chest, but the moment she stepped inside, she knew.

The house was silent. Not just empty—hollow. The air smelled stale, metallic.

Her feet carried her down the hall, past the open sliding doors—past the remnants of a life that had once existed within these walls.

Then she saw him.

Hatake Sakumo lay still, his body slumped beside his futon, his famous blade resting beside him, tainted with red.

Reika stopped breathing.

For a moment, her body refused to move.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

Her fingers trembled as she reached forward, pressing them to his wrist—cold.

No heartbeat.

Nothing.

A choked noise escaped her throat.

Sakumo was gone.

Kakashi's father was gone.

And Reika couldn’t stop shaking.

(she had failed)

(she’d tried - and still failed)

(what more could she have done? Should she have pushed? Demanded he accept help that didn’t exist? Forced him to? Fought him, pushed him, made him see -)

~

Footsteps. Slow. Familiar.

She turned her head.

Kakashi stood in the doorway. His face was blank. His hands were steady. His eyes—empty.

Reika felt her throat tighten.

“Kakashi.”

He walked past her, standing over his father’s body. His gaze was eerily calm as he took in the sight.

Then, after a long, suffocating silence—

“So that’s it.”

Reika inhaled sharply.

There was no grief in his voice. No anger. Just finality.

Kakashi exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “He did this to himself.”

Reika stared. Her hands curled into fists, something fierce clawing at her insides.

“Kakashi,” she whispered.

He ignored her, staring down at his father’s lifeless form as if it meant nothing.

“He gave up,” he murmured.

Reika moved before she thought. Her hands shoved against his chest, hard enough that he stumbled back a step.

Kakashi blinked at her, startled more than anything else. But Reika didn’t stop.

“You don’t get to say that,” she whispered, voice shaking.

Kakashi’s expression darkened. “It’s the truth.”

Reika’s breath hitched.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, voice quiet but no less sharp.

His fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, I do.”

Her chest ached.

“No, you don’t!” she snapped, voice cracking. “You’re just—”

She swallowed. Softened. Forced herself to let the anger flow out of her.

“You’re just mad at him for leaving you.”

Silence.

Kakashi’s jaw locked.

Reika took a step closer, her voice quieter this time. “You loved him.”

Something flickered across his face.

“I trusted him,” Kakashi muttered. “And he abandoned me.”

Reika exhaled sharply, stepping forward until she was right in front of him.

She grabbed his hands.

He flinched. But he didn’t pull away.

“Kakashi,” she whispered. “It wasn’t his fault.”

His breathing was slow, controlled. Too controlled.

“You know that,” she continued, gripping his fingers tighter. “The village destroyed him. And you’re letting them destroy you, too.”

Kakashi inhaled sharply.

For the first time, his hands shook.

~

She didn’t leave.

Not that night. Not the next. Her parents delivered clothes and bentos, understanding and grief softening their gaze.

She was there when the funeral was held, standing beside Kakashi, silent and steady.

She was there when the whispers continued—when the village still refused to care.

She was there when Kakashi trained so hard that he collapsed, when he forced himself to feel nothing because it was easier than feeling everything.

She was always there.

And Kakashi—

Kakashi let her be.

~

And the ache in her chest, that'd been there ever since they'd met for the second time - began to fade. Because he was hurting, because she couldn't fully be there for him if she was hurting, too. So she pushed it down, tucked it into a box in her mind, and pretended it had faded. 

And - slowly - it did. Maybe she was just excellent at repression. Maybe it'd come back one day. But as long as that day wasn't today - she was okay with that. She'd deal with it later.

Because none of this was about her. It'd always been about him. And right now, she couldn't afford to be hurting - not when he needed her. 

~

Their routine became quiet. Simple.

Reika met Kakashi after missions. She sat beside him in silence when he couldn’t sleep.

He trained with her like she was the only opponent that mattered.

Neither of them talked about Sakumo. But they didn’t need to.

Because this - her - was all he had left.

~

Reika found Kakashi sitting on the roof of the Hatake home, staring at the stars.

She climbed up beside him, settling next to him on the slanted tiles.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Then, finally—

“… I don’t know if I miss him,” Kakashi admitted.

Reika turned to him.

He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was distant, lost somewhere in the vastness of the sky.

“I think I should,” he murmured. “But I don’t know how.”

Reika inhaled slowly, choosing her next words carefully.

“Missing him doesn’t have to mean forgiving him,” she said quietly.

Kakashi was silent.

“Maybe missing him just means he mattered.”

He exhaled softly.

For the first time, she felt some of the tension in his body loosen.

“…Maybe,” he murmured.

She let her head rest lightly against his shoulder.

He didn’t move away. He didn't shift to accommodate her, either - but he didn't move away. He just... let her.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Then

It was late—later than either of them had intended to stay awake. The village was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves, the distant sound of a stray cat knocking something over. The air smelled of autumn, of crisp wind and burning wood from the lanterns that still flickered in the distance.

Reika and Kakashi sat on the balcony, their shoulders nearly brushing. The warmth of the day had faded, replaced by a cool stillness that neither of them seemed to mind. It’d been a week since they’d told each other they loved each other, and nothing had changed. Not really. They continued to exist around each other comfortably, easily, like they always had done - because it hadn’t been a confession, not really. It’d just been the truth, an acknowledgement of something that both of them had already known.

That night, though, they had been talking—about nothing, about everything.

Reika didn’t know when they had become this.

Comfortable. Familiar. Like they had always been orbiting each other, like it was only a matter of time before their paths finally settled into the same direction.

She turned to say something, some quiet comment about the way the stars looked tonight—

And Kakashi was already looking at her.

The words died on her tongue.

His expression was unreadable, but his eye—dark, steady—was softer than she had ever seen it. Like he was looking at something fragile, something precious, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to reach for.

Something twisted in her chest. 

She had always known Kakashi was careful. With his words. With his attachments. With his grief. And for so long, she had told herself she wouldn’t ask him for more than he was willing to give.

But right now—right now, with the cool night air settling around them, with the quiet between them stretching into something deep, something fragile—

She didn’t want to be careful anymore.

Her fingers twitched against the concrete beneath her palms.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached up, brushing the silver strands of hair away from his face. It was such a small thing—something she had done before, something that shouldn’t have meant anything.

But this time, Kakashi inhaled sharply.

And for the first time, she saw it—

The way his guard cracked.

The way his lips parted slightly beneath his mask.

The way his entire body tensed, not with reluctance, but with something dangerously close to anticipation.

Something unspoken settled between them.

Reika’s heart pounded.

Before she could stop herself—before she could think—

She kissed him.

It was barely a kiss. Barely anything, really. Just the lightest press of her lips against the fabric of his mask. A fleeting thing, soft and hesitant, there and gone in an instant.

But Kakashi stilled.

A breath. A heartbeat. A moment too long.

Reika pulled back immediately, mortification flooding her as reality crashed in.

“I—” she started, panic rising in her throat.

But Kakashi moved before she could finish.

His hand reached out, fingers curling gently around her wrist—not stopping her, not holding her in place, just there, just touching, just asking without words.

Reika’s breath caught.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her gaze back up to his.

Kakashi’s grip tightened—not by much, just enough that she could feel it.

Then—deliberately, carefully—he raised his free hand and tugged his mask down.

Reika’s breath stilled.

She had never seen him like this. Not completely.

And gods, he was beautiful. Pale skin, a slight tan line from where his mask usually covered his face, a small beauty mark next to the corner of his lips. High cheekbones, angular jaw. 

But it was more than that, because right now, in the pale glow of the moonlight, Hatake Kakashi was just a boy on the cusp of adulthood. A boy with tired eyes, with quiet scars, with something unbearably soft in his expression.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

He just looked at her, like he was waiting—like he was letting her decide.

Reika didn’t hesitate.

This time, when she kissed him, it wasn’t fleeting.

It was slow. Gentle. Warm.

Kakashi inhaled sharply, and then—finally—he kissed her back.

It was careful, the way everything with him was careful. Like he was testing the weight of it, the reality of it. Like he was memorizing the feel of her lips, the shape of this moment, as if he still wasn’t convinced it was something he was allowed to have. As if he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to have this again.

Reika exhaled against his mouth, her fingers lifting to rest lightly against his jaw.

That seemed to break something in him.

Kakashi tilted his head, deepening the kiss—not desperate, not rushed, but firm, deliberate, like he was letting himself want this, letting himself have this.

It was the kind of kiss that meant something.

The kind of kiss that said this is new, but it isn’t sudden.

The kind of kiss that whispered this has been waiting to happen.

Reika pulled back slowly, just enough to breathe, to take him in.

Kakashi’s lips were slightly parted, his breath uneven, his expression unreadable—

But his fingers were still curled around her wrist. Still holding on.

Reika smiled softly.

“Hi,” she murmured, her voice quiet, breathless.

Kakashi exhaled a quiet laugh.

“Hi,” he said, and his thumb brushed against her skin in the smallest, gentlest motion.

Neither of them said anything else.

They didn’t need to.

Because this—this—

Had always been inevitable.

~

He’d spent the night in her bed. Not on the couch. Nothing had happened - it was still too new, too early. She was fifteen, and he was seventeen, and it was too soon for both of them. But it had seemed silly to keep him on the couch when there was a perfectly good bed that could fit him, and she’d told him that. And he’d allowed himself to be convinced. Allowed himself to have that. 

The morning came slowly, the first light of dawn creeping over the rooftops of Konoha, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. The village was quiet, the usual early-morning bustle not yet beginning.

Reika stirred first, eyes fluttering open to the sight of Kakashi still beside her, his breathing deep and steady. He had fallen asleep sometime in the night, his head tilted slightly towards her, his mask still down. The sight was rare—so rare that she hesitated to move, to do anything that might disturb this moment.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, simply watching him, memorizing every unguarded line of his face. The way his hair, always messy, seemed even softer in the morning light. The faintest hints of stubble along his jaw. The way his lips—ones she had kissed for the first time just hours ago—were slightly parted in sleep.

Warmth curled in her chest.

Carefully, she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. Kakashi let out a quiet sound, not quite waking, but shifting slightly toward her, as though instinctively seeking her warmth.

Reika smiled, heart twisting at the realization that, despite everything—despite his usual wariness, despite the walls he had spent a lifetime building—he had let himself fall asleep beside her. Let himself trust her enough for this.

She reached out before she could think better of it, brushing a few strands of silver hair from his face.

Kakashi stirred at that, his breath hitching ever so slightly before his eye opened, dark and still hazy with sleep. He blinked at her, slow and unguarded, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, softly, still rough from sleep, Kakashi murmured, “Morning.”

Reika’s lips twitched. “Morning.”

Kakashi’s gaze flickered down—just for a second—before meeting hers again. She could see it, the way his mind was waking up, catching up to the fact that this wasn’t just a dream, that they were really here, still close, still warm from the night before.

A slow, deliberate exhale left him, like he was grounding himself in this moment.

Reika, unable to resist, tilted her head slightly, teasing. “You sleep well?”

Kakashi hummed, the sound low, considering. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Something about that made her breath catch, her teasing smile faltering into something softer.

Kakashi didn’t move away. He just looked at her, as though committing this to memory, as though trying to decide if he was still allowed to have this now that the night had passed.

Reika, seeing that hesitance, the old habit of doubt creeping in, made the decision for him.

She leaned in, pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

Kakashi inhaled sharply, but this time, he didn’t freeze. This time, his hand found hers beneath the blanket, fingers curling around hers.

And this time, when he kissed her back, slow and certain, he didn’t hesitate at all.

~

He still hesitated, though. A lot. Almost every time, really. He’d pause before reaching for her, and she’d notice it in the twitch of his fingers, the uncertainty in his eye. Even if it’d only been five minutes since the last time she’d reached for him, he’d never been sure, had never let himself believe that she still wanted him. 

And she had let him doubt, had kept reaching for him first, had kept showing him, over and over, that he didn’t have to hesitate. Not with her. Because she wasn’t going anywhere. 

But it’d been two months, and Reika had had enough. So, one night on the balcony, she turned to him, and just - said it. 

“You don’t have to hesitate, you know,” Reika said quietly. “You’re it for me.” 

And Kakashi - he wanted to believe her. He tensed, his eye widening, but he still hesitated, and she hated that. So she kept on looking at him, and poured all the love she felt for him into her expression. All of it, every soft moment, every comfortable silence, her love for every jagged, hesitating piece of him - she put it all into her eyes, her smile. 

He exhaled slowly, steadily. And it was like his last wall crumbled. Then - without hesitation - he reached for her face. Reika held still, her smile softening, letting him run his fingers along her cheekbones, trace the curve of her jaw, linger on the edge of her lips. He touched her carefully, like she was something precious, something he was terrified of breaking - but there was no hesitation, and that was enough. 

“I’ll try,” Kakashi said quietly. He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, and she swallowed, her breath hitching.

“That’s all I want,” she said, just as soft. She smiled at him, tilting her head. “So, are you gonna kiss me, Hatake, or just stare at me all night?” 

Kakashi huffed, his eye crinkling, and in one smooth motion, he tugged down his mask and kissed her. Easily. Without a moment’s hesitation. 

~

“I can’t promise not to hesitate anymore,” Kakashi said quietly, after they’d broken apart, slightly breathless. “But I meant it when I said I’d try. I just…” he paused, searching for the right words, “don’t know how to let myself have this.” 

“I know,” Reika said gently. She reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers. “You don’t need to know right now. We can figure it out. Take our time.”

Kakashi tilted his head, “‘We?’”

“Mm,” Reika hummed. “You’re stuck with me now, don’t you know? I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallowed, his eye still searching her face for any signs that she was lying, that she didn’t mean what she was saying. After a moment, he relaxed, his expression softening. 

“Good.” 

“Good?” Reika grinned teasingly. 

He rolled his eye. “Shut up.”

“But you love me,” she teased. 

“Yeah,” Kakashi said quietly, his expression unbearably soft, his face achingly bare without his mask. “I do.” 

Reika stared at him, caught off-guard, because - gods, his face was so expressive, and she’d had no idea what it would do to her. And then she grabbed his collar and kissed him again, just because she could. Just because she wanted to. 

~

He’d still hesitate. But not as much, not as often, not as long. He was trying, trying to let himself have this, have her, and she let him. Because he’d spent his entire life losing everyone he’d ever cared about, and he was terrified of letting himself care again, in case he lost her, too. 

She couldn’t promise he’d never lose her. They both knew that. But she knew he wanted this despite that, and she wanted this too, so she kept on showing him. Kept on proving it to him. Because he’d been doomed from the moment Naruto had taken his first steps in his apartment, and now, after he’d already fallen, it was just a matter of letting himself have this. 

And, slowly, he did. He still had bad days - days where he looked at her like he was waiting for her to leave him, days where he’d withdraw and look at her uncertainly, like he wasn’t sure if she was real. And every time it happened, she’d be there for him. 

Steady. Unwavering. Reaching for him.

~

They kept it private, at first. Took things slow, kept things low-key, held hands only when no one could see, kissed only when they were alone. Something just for the two of them. Then, one day, six months after they’d first kissed, Reika grabbed his hand while they were walking down the street, and he went still. Then - his grip on her hand tightened, like he was reassuring himself that she was there, that she wasn’t leaving, that this - this was okay. 

And so things changed. Slowly. Inevitably. Like it was always meant to.

Chapter Text

Shisui had been in the Academy for exactly two weeks, and he already wanted out.

The first day had been tolerable. The second day had been tedious. The third day had him seriously considering dropping out and becoming a full-time hermit in the forest.

And by the end of the second week, he had officially given up.

The Academy was boring. The classes were too easy, the lessons too slow, and worst of all—

Reika wasn’t there.

He had been ready to face new challenges, to prove himself, to show off his skills—but what was the point if he was just… waiting?

Waiting for the other students to catch up. Waiting for the instructors to stop underestimating him. Waiting for the only person who had ever actually challenged him to finally join.

He could’ve graduated in a year. He should’ve, probably. But then he wouldn’t have had a chance at being on Reika’s genin team, and that was unacceptable. She’d start at the Academy next year, most likely in the graduating class, his class, considering how incredible she was at everything - he just had to last until then.

Shisui slumped dramatically over his desk, groaning.

"I am dying," he announced to no one in particular.

The boy sitting next to him, who had wisely learned not to engage, just sighed. "Dude, it’s been two weeks."

"Two weeks too long," Shisui muttered into his arms.

The instructor cleared his throat, shooting Shisui a warning look. "If you have enough energy to complain, Uchiha, then perhaps you’d like to demonstrate today’s transformation technique first?"

Shisui perked up instantly, finally given the opportunity to do something remotely interesting.

"Gladly!" he chirped, hopping up from his seat. He weaved the hand seals in a flash, smirking—

And, just to make it fun, transformed into his instructor.

The entire class snorted as they suddenly had two identical teachers.

The real instructor sighed deeply.

Shisui grinned. "So? Perfect, right?"

The instructor rubbed his temples. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t turn into the Hokage."

Shisui beamed, because now he had ideas .

~

By week three, Shisui was climbing the walls.

If no one was going to challenge him, he would make his own challenges.

He stole the instructor’s chalk before every lesson just to see how long it took him to notice.

He Shunshin’ed out of the classroom mid-lecture and then returned before anyone could react.

He swapped all the wooden kunai with real ones for weapons practice and watched in amusement as the instructor panicked.

(No one was injured, he promised)

By the end of the month, his instructor had visibly aged.

And when Shisui went to train with Reika that afternoon, she just stared at him.

"So let me get this straight," she said, arms crossed. "You’re bored, so now you’re terrorizing the entire school?"

Shisui grinned proudly. "Correct."

Reika half-laughed, half-sighed. "Why are you like this?"

Shisui shrugged dramatically. "You weren’t there to stop me."

Reika squinted at him. Shisui realized too late what he just admitted.

"I mean—not that you need to stop me! But if you were there, maybe I’d—y’know—not—"

Reika tilted her head. Shisui shut up immediately.

Reika sighed, grabbed a kunai, and threw it straight at his face.

Shisui barely dodged. "HEY—"

"If you’re bored," she sighed, "train harder."

Shisui beamed. "See, this is why I need you in my life."

Reika kicked him.

~

Shisui had officially accepted his fate.

The Academy was never going to be interesting. The instructors were never going to catch up to him. And he was never going to stop causing problems.

So he just… leaned into it.

He graduated to bigger pranks.

He started racing the teachers using Shunshin—without them realizing they were racing.

He once answered an entire written exam in under a minute, left his paper blank, and then put all his answers on the back of another student’s test.

By this point, half the class had started treating him like a force of nature rather than a person.

And his instructor had given up entirely.

Shisui sighed as he flicked a shuriken at the target, barely looking. It landed dead center.

He didn’t even feel good about it.

"Ugh," he groaned. "This would be so much more fun if Reika was here."

The kid next to him sighed. "Dude, I don’t know who this Reika person is, but I hope she gets here soon, for all our sakes."

Shisui nodded solemnly. "Me too, buddy. Me too."

~

It happened gradually.

Somewhere between the endless Academy pranks and the long afternoons spent sparring, Shisui learned how to exist around Reika without making a complete fool of himself.

Somewhere between all the teasing and the quiet, stolen moments, Reika changed. Her smiles came easier, her laughs louder. She still had that unbearable weight in her eyes sometimes, like she was carrying something no one else knew about - but it was lighter, now. Less omnipresent. 

She was still sharp. Still terrifyingly competent. But she was softer, in a way that made something in Shisui’s chest feel lighter.

And, somehow, somehow , he could actually talk to her now.

Like a normal person.

Like himself.

~

“I think I’ve caused my instructor to have an existential crisis.”

Reika hummed, idly flicking a kunai between her fingers.

Shisui collapsed dramatically onto the grass beside her, stretching out his arms. “Like, he didn’t even yell today. He just looked at me. Like he was questioning every decision that had led him to this moment.”

Reika snorted.

And Shisui—Shisui grinned.

He was used to it now. The little reactions. The quiet laughter. But it still felt like a win every time.

“You laughed,” he said, smug beyond belief.

Reika sighed, looking toward the sky, but she was smiling. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Shisui insisted, pointing at her. “It was tiny, but it was there.”

Reika rolled her eyes, flicking the kunai at him.

Shisui caught it effortlessly, still grinning. “Don’t be shy, Reika. If you like my suffering, you can say so.”

Reika glanced at him, unimpressed. “I don’t like it.”

Shisui smirked. “But you do find it funny.”

She huffed. “You’re insufferable.”

Shisui tossed the kunai back. “And yet, here you are, still hanging out with me.”

Reika caught it without looking, tilting her head slightly. “Hm.”

That wasn’t a denial.

Shisui beamed.

~

They trained together almost every day now.

It wasn’t official. There was no spoken agreement, no promises. But Shisui always showed up, and Reika never sent him away.

That was enough.

It had taken him a while to catch up to her, but he had gotten faster. Sharper. He had learned how to fight against her, how to move in ways that weren’t so predictable, how to react without thinking.

And—more importantly—he had learned how to talk to her.

Gone were the days where he’d freeze just because she looked at him.

Gone were the awkward stammers and brain malfunctions.

Now?

Now, he could actually keep up.

(Well, verbally, at least. Physically? She still wiped the floor with him the entire time. He loved it)

“Finally,” Reika muttered, as he dodged her latest attack. “You’re actually learning.”

Shisui grinned, flickering out of reach. “What can I say? I’m an excellent student.”

Reika raised an eyebrow. “You terrorize your instructors on a daily basis.”

Shisui gasped. “That is so unfair! I am gifted.”

“You’re a menace.”

Shisui shrugged. “Same thing.”

Reika sighed, but it was fond.

~

It was the small things.

The way she sighed less and listened more. The way she didn’t roll her eyes as much. The way she actually let him walk next to her now, instead of just tolerating his presence. The way she didn’t push him away anymore.

The first time he really noticed it, they were leaving the training grounds together.

The sky was turning soft with the last light of evening, the air crisp from the coming autumn. They walked side by side, neither of them saying much, but it was comfortable.

Then—

Out of nowhere—

Reika reached out.

Just briefly. Just for a second.

Her fingers curled into the sleeve of his shirt, barely tugging at the fabric before letting go.

It was nothing. A meaningless touch. Barely even noticeable.

But Shisui—Shisui felt it everywhere.

He stopped walking.

Reika kept going, completely unaware of the absolute havoc she had just unleashed in his brain.

Shisui stared after her, something impossibly warm blooming in his chest.

Then, finally, he exhaled, smiled to himself, and jogged to catch up.

~

The next time he did something stupid, she didn’t even pretend to be exasperated.

She just sighed, crossed her arms, and said, "You’re not going to stop, are you?"

Shisui grinned. "Nope."

Reika sighed. "Ugh."

And then—

Then she reached out, and - pushed his hair out of his face. It was a quick thing, done without thinking, like it was natural.

Shisui forgot how to breathe. Reika didn’t even seem to notice what she’d done.

She just stepped back, tilting her head slightly. "You’re staring."

Shisui swallowed. Do not malfunction. Do not malfunction.

"Just… processing."

Reika squinted. "Processing what?"

Shisui took a deep breath. And for once, he did not panic.

Instead, he just grinned.

"That you totally like me."

Reika blinked.

Then—

She kicked him.

But Shisui didn’t care.

Because she didn’t deny it.

~

Then, finally, the day came. Shisui had waited an entire year for this moment.

An entire, agonizing, painful year of boredom, of sitting in the Academy listening to instructors explain things he already knew, of desperately seeking ways to entertain himself before his brain rotted from disuse.

But finally, finally, Uzumaki Reika had arrived.

And by the end of the first day, no one else mattered. Not that they ever had - but at least, now they knew that, too. 

~

It started in taijutsu class.

Shisui had warned them. He had told them.

But no one had listened.

He watched, equal parts smug and fascinated, as Reika stepped onto the sparring mat with the kind of ease that suggested this was nothing new to her. Across from her stood one of the bigger kids in the class—some fourteen-year-old who had been held back a few years, probably thinking he was about to prove himself by taking out the new student.

Poor guy.

Shisui leaned forward in his seat, already grinning.

The instructor clapped once. “Hajime!”

The boy lunged.

Reika moved.

And Shisui barely even saw what happened.

One second, the boy was charging forward, fists raised. The next, Reika sidestepped, pivoted lightly on her heel, and—gently—tapped the back of his knee.

He hit the ground so fast it was almost tragic.

A hush fell over the class.

Reika blinked, tilting her head slightly as she looked down at her opponent. “Are you okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

The boy groaned into the dirt.

Shisui cackled.

~

By lunchtime, the entire Academy was talking about her.

Shisui could hear the whispers as he walked through the hallways, trailing just slightly behind Reika. (No, he was not following her—he was observing. There was a difference.)

“Did you hear what she did in taijutsu class?”

“She barely even touched him.”

“No way. She’s not that strong, right?”

“Who even is she?”

Shisui felt a deep, deep satisfaction hearing it. Finally, the rest of the Academy was catching up to what he had known for years.

Uzumaki Reika was terrifying.

And Shisui had never been prouder.

~

It got even better when they moved on to weapons training.

By now, the instructor had learned better than to underestimate her.

“Uzumaki,” he said, looking vaguely resigned, “would you like to go first?”

She blinked at him. “Oh. Sure.”

Shisui settled into his seat on the ground, smirking.

The targets were lined up at the far end of the training field—standard wooden dummies, each marked with red paint at the usual kill zones. The goal was simple: land as many kunai as possible in the designated areas.

Reika picked up a kunai and turned to face the targets.

Shisui saw the moment she adjusted her grip. The tiny shift in her posture, the way her breathing evened out, her eyes sharpening like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

Then she flicked her wrist.

A heartbeat later, every single target had a kunai embedded precisely in the throat.

Silence.

The instructor looked at the targets.

Then at Reika.

Then at the targets again.

“… Pass.”

Shisui let out an unholy, triumphant laugh.

~

By the time they got to ninjutsu practice, everyone had mostly accepted their fate.

Reika was just… better. In every way. In everything. The instructor asked her to make a clone. Reika made three. Everyone except Shisui, who were still struggling with one, stared in abject awe and/or terror.

Shisui beamed. She was so cool.

~

By the end of the day, Reika was the undisputed top student.

The instructors were visibly exhausted.

Half the students were awed. The other half were terrified. A good portion were both.

Shisui was positively thriving.

“You’re even better than I thought you’d be!” he declared as they walked out of the Academy gates together. He was still grinning, practically bouncing on his feet. “I knew you’d be great, but that was ridiculous.”

Reika looked at him, amused. “You’ve seen me train before.”

“Yeah, but watching you humiliate an entire class of twelve-year-olds? That was art.”

She rolled her eyes, but she laughed.

Shisui would count that as a win.

~

The best part came at the very end of the day.

As they were walking home, a group of students lingered near the Academy gates. They weren’t being obvious about it, but Shisui could see it—the way they shifted slightly when Reika passed, the barely concealed glances, the quiet murmurs.

Shisui’s smirk grew impossibly wide.

“You realize you just completely changed the power dynamic of this school, right?” he asked.

Reika sighed. “Shisui—”

“Reika, be honest with me,” he interrupted, grabbing her shoulders and turning her slightly so she could see the students openly staring at her. “How does it feel to be feared?”

Reika groaned. “I am not feared.”

Shisui gestured wildly at the students, who immediately pretended to be very interested in the dirt at their feet. “Look at them! They fear you, Reika! They’re about three seconds away from forming a cult!”

Reika looked absolutely done with him.

Shisui, meanwhile, had never been happier.

Best. Day. Ever.

~

Shisui had spent a year waiting for this moment.

An agonizing year of boredom, of rolling his eyes at slow lessons, of desperately finding ways to entertain himself before his brain rotted from disuse.

But finally, Reika was here.

She had completely obliterated every subject in a single day—academics, taijutsu, ninjutsu—everything.

Shisui had already accepted that she was the most amazing person to ever exist.

And then, by day three, he realized he wasn’t the only one.

~

Shisui had noticed her before.

Mitarashi Anko was loud, sharp-eyed, and always looking for trouble. She was one of the few people in class who could actually keep up with Shisui’s energy, but she was nowhere near as terrifying as Reika. Which was why he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

It started during their taijutsu class.

Anko was supposed to spar with another student. But then, the second she saw who Reika was matched with, she immediately interrupted.

“I wanna fight her!” she announced, pointing directly at Reika.

The class stared.

Reika blinked, tilting her head. “… Me?”

“Yes, you,” Anko huffed. “I saw you wipe the floor with Daichi, and that was fun, but now I wanna see if you’re actually good.”

Shisui sat up so fast he nearly fell over.

Excuse me?

Anko was looking at Reika like she was the single most interesting thing in the world, and Shisui did not like that. At all. 

The instructor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Mitarashi, this is not how—”

Reika shrugged. “Okay.”

Shisui choked on air.

The instructor groaned. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Shisui leaned forward, completely invested.

The match began.

And Shisui, for the second time in his life, watched someone get wrecked even faster than he had been. Someone who should’ve stood a chance, but didn’t. 

Anko was good, sure—fast, aggressive, unpredictable—but Reika was better.

Reika moved like water, barely putting in effort, like she was adjusting every movement in real time, like she already knew exactly where Anko was going before she did.

Two seconds in, Anko was on the ground, wheezing, kunai to her throat.

The class was dead silent.

Shisui, absolutely delighted, turned to the person next to him.

“She’s so cool,” he whispered.

Anko, still gasping for breath, just stared up at Reika in pure awe.

Then, to Shisui’s absolute horror—

She grinned.

“That,” Anko panted, “was amazing.”

Reika tilted her head. “You lost.”

Anko beamed. “Yeah, but you made it fun.”

Shisui’s eye twitched.

And then, as if things weren’t already bad enough—

Anko shot finger guns at Reika.

“Hey,” she said. “Wanna be best friends?”

Reika blinked at her. Then - 

“Okay.”

Shisui’s entire world shattered.

~

The second they were dismissed, Shisui cornered Reika immediately.

Reika sighed. “What?”

Shisui gestured wildly. “You can’t just—just accept friendship proposals from other people!”

Reika blinked. “Why not?”

Shisui gaped at her. “Because—because—” He struggled for words, offended beyond belief. “I was here first!”

Reika laughed. “That’s not how friendship works.”

Shisui whispered in betrayal, “Yes, it is.”

Reika rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

Shisui grabbed his chest like she had physically stabbed him. “Dramatic?! Reika, she finger-gunned at you!”

Reika frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything!” Shisui flailed, waving his arms aggressively. “That’s basically a friendship marriage proposal!”

She stared at him. “... Shisui. You finger-gunned at me, too, when we first met.”

Shisui collapsed onto his knees. “Exactly!!”

Reika pinched the bridge of her nose, but she was holding back a smile. “Shisui.”

“Reika,” he mimicked back, sulking aggressively.

Reika sighed deeply, eyes softening. “I’m still your friend.”

Shisui huffed. “Yeah, but now I have to share.”

Reika shrugged and laughed. “That sounds like a you problem.”

Shisui gasped, scandalized.

And then—Anko appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm over Reika’s shoulder.

“Hey, Reika! Want to get dango after class?”

Shisui’s soul left his body.

Reika smiled. “Sure.”

Anko grinned. “Sweet! You’re officially my new favorite person!”

Shisui made a strangled noise.

Anko turned to him smugly. “Something wrong, Uchiha?”

Shisui glared daggers. “Yes, actually.”

Anko smirked. “Too bad. She’s mine now.”

Shisui, absolutely livid, turned to Reika for backup.

Reika grinned at him. “Are you coming or not?”

Shisui froze.

She was inviting him. To a dango trip. With her.

Shisui crossed his arms, pouting dramatically. “I don’t know… sounds like I’m being third-wheeled.”

Reika gave him a look. “We are literally all just getting food.”

Shisui squinted at Anko suspiciously.

Anko grinned.

Shisui sighed. “Fine.”

And just like that, they were an unstoppable trio.

Anko adored Reika. Shisui was furious about it. Reika had just… accepted her fate.

And Shisui would never know peace again.

~

Shisui fought it for weeks.

Anko was everywhere. She was loud, obnoxious, and for some reason, Reika liked her. Shisui had spent an entire year working his way into Reika’s life, and then this menace had just strolled in and gotten a friendship proposal in under two days.

It was infuriating. The sheer audacity of it, the unfairness of the world, stunned him speechless.

And yet—

Somewhere along the way, Shisui found himself… tolerating her.

It started small.

At first, he just learned to live with the fact that Anko would always be around. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, she would be there. If he wanted to spar with Reika, Anko wanted in. If he wanted to get dango with Reika, Anko had already invited herself. If he tried to complain about Anko to Reika, Anko would somehow appear out of thin air just to defend herself.

Shisui was so tired.

But then—then he started noticing things.

Anko wasn’t actually annoying all the time.

Sure, she was loud, but she was also sharp. She had the kind of energy that kept things interesting, the kind of recklessness that made everything a challenge.

And she was funny. It killed him to admit it, but she was.

She was also one of the few people who could actually keep up with them.

That part was… kind of nice.

And then came the real moment. The moment that changed everything.

It was after a long, exhausting spar. They had all collapsed under a tree, sweaty and bruised, nursing sore muscles.

Reika, as always, looked barely fazed.

Shisui, as always, had been wrecked.

And Anko, also bruised and battered, had just flopped onto her back with a groan.

Then—

“I think I hate you both,” she muttered.

Shisui snorted. “Right back at you.”

Reika hummed in vague agreement.

And then, Anko sighed and said, “But you guys are still my best friends, so whatever.”

Shisui paused. Blinked. Turned his head to look at her.

Anko, lying in the grass, had her eyes closed, utterly unbothered.

And Shisui—Shisui realized something.

They were her best friends.

And maybe—just maybe—she was his too.

He groaned loudly, throwing an arm over his eyes, completely disgusted with himself.

“I can’t believe I like you.”

Anko cracked one eye open, smirking. “Oh, you love me.”

Shisui sighed, resigned to his suffering, his idiocy, and his own lack of judgement.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t push it.”

Reika glanced between them, then just shook her head, barely hiding her amusement.

And Shisui—Shisui finally made peace with Mitarashi Anko’s existence.

~

Shisui had survived many things in his short life.

He had survived the Academy. He had survived Reika - barely, by the skin of his teeth, and sometimes he still wondered - but technically, he had. He had even, somehow, survived Anko.

But this?

This was different.

Because today, Uzumaki Reika casually dropped the single most terrifying sentence he had ever heard in his life.

"My parents want to meet you two."

Shisui’s brain immediately short-circuited.

Anko, the traitor, just grinned. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve been wondering when I’d meet the legendary Bloody Habanero and the Yellow Flash.”

Shisui choked.

He hadn’t been wondering. In fact, he had been actively avoiding thinking about it.

Reika, ever composed, tilted her head slightly. “It’s not a big deal.”

Shisui whirled on her. “Not a—not a big deal?! Reika, your dad is the fastest man alive! Your mom could probably kill me with a spoon! This is the biggest deal!”

Reika blinked at him. “… You do realize I’ve already told them about you, right?”

Shisui went still. Slowly, he turned back to her. “What?”

Reika, entirely unbothered, continued, “They already know who you are. Tou-san thinks you’re funny. I think Kaa-san cried from laughter, once. After that time I beat you four times in a row and you proposed to me on the spot.”

Shisui made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a wheeze. “You remember that?!”

Anko snickered. “You’re so screwed.”

Shisui grabbed Reika’s shoulders. “What else did you tell them?!”

Reika blinked again, completely unmoved by his very real panic. “That you’re annoying.”

Shisui gasped.

Reika continued, utterly unfazed. “And loud.”

Shisui clutched his heart.

Reika thought for a moment. “Oh, and that you’re really weird.”

Shisui died.

Anko cackled, grabbing his sleeve and shaking him. “Oh my gods, this is the best day of my life.”

Shisui, still reeling, turned back to Reika. “And they still want to meet me?!”

Reika blinked at him, tilting her head. “… Yes?”

Shisui collapsed to the floor.

Anko stood over him, hands on her hips. “You gonna survive, champ?”

Shisui groaned. “No.”

Reika sighed, like he was the one being unreasonable. “It’s just dinner.”

Shisui sat up violently. “Just dinner?! You want me to sit across from the Yellow Flash and the Bloody Habanero and not die on the spot?!”

Reika frowned. “… Yes?”

Anko was still laughing.

Shisui groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh, I’m gonna die.”

Reika sighed again. “I’ll see you both at six.”

Then she just walked away, like she hadn’t just shattered his entire existence.

Anko grinned at him, slapping his back. “Welp. You’ve got three hours to accept your fate.”

Shisui groaned again, curling into himself.

This was it. This was how he died.

Meeting the parents.

And worst of all—

Minato and Kushina already thought he was an idiot.

~

Shisui had survived many things in his life.

He had faced down shinobi twice his age, perfected techniques beyond his years, and once barely escaped an assassination attempt from his cousin over a piece of Mitarashi dango.

But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the sheer terror of stepping into Uzumaki Reika’s house and coming face to face with her parents.

Because they were smiling.

And that meant he was going to die.

~

The door opened before he could even knock.

Standing there, smiling in a way that was far too pleasant to be real, was Namikaze Minato.

"Ah," Minato said, tilting his head slightly, "you must be Shisui and Anko. Reika talks about you two a lot."

Shisui immediately forgot how to breathe.

Anko, entirely unbothered, grinned. "Yo! Thanks for having us."

Minato chuckled. "Of course. Come in."

Shisui, meanwhile, was frozen in place, his entire nervous system shutting down.

Reika talked about him.

To her father.

To the Yellow Flash.

Shisui had never felt fear like this.

Before he could retreat, a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside.

Reika barely glanced at him. "You’re being weird again."

Shisui whispered back, "Reika, your father is literally the fastest man alive and could kill me before I blink."

Reika sighed. "He wouldn’t do that."

Minato, still smiling warmly, gestured toward the dining room. "Come on, dinner’s ready."

Shisui moved forward with all the grace of a man walking toward his execution.

~

The food smelled incredible. The table was neatly set. It was all so normal.

Which only made it worse.

Shisui sat down stiffly, watching as Reika took a seat across from him, completely relaxed.

And then Uzumaki Kushina walked in, setting down a dish of food with one hand while ruffling Reika’s hair with the other.

"Ah, you must be Shisui and Anko!" Kushina said, beaming. "It’s great to finally meet you! Reika’s always talking about you."

Shisui choked on absolutely nothing.

Anko, grinning, said, "Reika, you've been bragging about us?"

Reika, already reaching for food, shrugged. "Not really."

Minato hummed thoughtfully, setting down his chopsticks. "She talks about Shisui a lot."

Shisui choked again.

Kushina smirked, her sharp violet eyes flicking to him. "Yeah, she does."

Anko snickered. "Oh, this is fun."

Reika, completely unaware of the absolute destruction happening inside Shisui’s brain, just blinked. "I mean, he’s my best friend. Of course I mention him."

Shisui, very much not okay, laughed a little too loudly. "Hah—yeah! Of course! Totally normal! Haha!"

Minato just smiled at him.

Shisui immediately lost all sense of self-preservation.

~

For a while, the conversation was fine. Minato and Kushina were engaging, Anko was talking like she had lived there her whole life, and Reika was… being Reika.

Which was the problem.

Because she wasn’t even trying.

She wasn’t trying to look particularly nice, wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She was just casually existing, her red hair pulled into a loose ponytail, blue eyes scanning the table as she ate, saying simple things like "pass the soy sauce" in a voice that made Shisui forget how words worked.

And Minato was watching him.

Not in an obvious way.

No, that would be too easy.

Minato was smiling, engaging in the conversation, looking for all the world like a friendly, easygoing man—

While keeping a very close eye on him.

Shisui had never known true terror until that moment. Because Minato knew. Minato could see it.

The way Shisui looked at Reika for a little too long. The way his entire brain short-circuited every time she spoke, despite how much he tried to hide it. The way he had nearly leapt to hand her a dish before she even asked for it like some desperate, lovestruck fool.

Shisui was exposed.

And Minato was enjoying every second of it.

~

Shisui barely survived dinner.

And then Kushina sealed his fate.

"So, Shisui," she mused, tapping her fingers against the table, "when are you gonna confess?"

Shisui blacked out.

Anko choked on her drink.

Reika, still entirely unbothered, just blinked. "Confess what?"

Minato, still smiling far too pleasantly, rested his chin on his hand and watched.

Shisui was actively dying.

Anko, barely containing her glee, smacked his back. "Oh, this is the best day of my life."

Kushina smirked. "Oh, come on. You’re making it so obvious, kid." She paused, then went in for the kill. “Weren’t you the one going on about how blue her eyes were when you two first met?”

Shisui looked at Reika in abject betrayal. “You told her about that?”

Reika stared at him. “Shisui,” she said gently, “That was the weirdest moment of my entire life.”

Anko was screaming with laughter. 

Shisui wanted to scream too.

Minato exhaled through his nose, sipping his tea slowly, deliberately. "Well, Shisui? Anything to say?"

Shisui’s entire short life flashed before his eyes.

He had two options:

1. Admit to liking Reika in front of both her very terrifying parents who absolutely could and would kill him.
2. Die.

He seriously considered option two. But then—Reika sighed, exasperated.

"Why are you making this so weird?" she muttered, rubbing her temple. "He’s just like that."

Shisui almost collapsed in pure relief.

Minato hummed. "Just like that, huh?"

Shisui, desperate to stay alive, nodded rapidly. "Yes! Exactly! Just like that! Haha!"

Kushina rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I’ll back off. For now."

Shisui barely held in his sob of relief.

Reika stood, stretching. "We’re done, right? I wanna train."

Shisui immediately sprang to his feet. "YES. TRAINING. LET’S GO. NOW."

Minato just smiled at him as he left.

Shisui swore he felt every single hair on his body stand on end.

~

The second they were out of the house, Shisui let out the deepest sigh of his life.

Anko, grinning like a menace, patted his shoulder. "That was painful to watch."

Shisui turned to her, pale. "I almost died."

Reika sighed. "You were being weird. Again. Weren’t you past this?"

Shisui grabbed her shoulders. "Reika, your father saw into my soul."

Reika blinked. "So?"

Shisui flung his arms in the air. "SO HE KNOWS."

Reika, as always, had no idea what he was talking about. "Knows what?"

Shisui’s entire body twitched. Anko snorted.

Shisui groaned loudly into the sky.

Reika, unimpressed, tossed him a kunai. "If you’re done being dramatic, let’s go."

Shisui caught it with shaking hands. "I can never face your family again."

Reika rolled her eyes. "You’re coming back next week."

Shisui whispered, "I am never going to survive this."

Anko, gleeful, patted his back. "Don’t worry. If you die, I get your weapons."

Shisui groaned.

Reika nodded. "I’ll take your kunai."

And thus Shisui’s suffering became eternal.

~

Shisui did not recover.

He tried.

He really did.

But after a dinner where both of Reika’s terrifyingly friendly parents stared him down, and after Kushina literally called him out for liking Reika, and after Minato saw into his very soul and smiled knowingly, Shisui knew.

He would never be the same again.

So, when he finally made it back home, looking haunted, staring blankly at the wall like he had witnessed the end of days, his father took one look at him—

And laughed.

~

Shisui collapsed onto the floor, face-first.

Kagami grinned at him broadly. “So. How was dinner?”

Shisui groaned into the tatami.

His father smirked. “That bad, huh?”

Shisui lifted his head just enough to glare at him. “They know.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”

Shisui flailed wildly. “That I have a crush on Reika!”

Kagami laughed harder.

“Oh, come on,” he chuckled. “It’s been over a year, Shisui.”

Shisui sat up dramatically, looking absolutely wrecked. “AND SHE’S ONLY GOTTEN SCARIER WITH TIME.”

Kagami snorted. “I assume you mean that in a positive way.”

Shisui threw his hands in the air. “OF COURSE I DO.”

Kagami just shook his head, still grinning. “So, what happened?”

Shisui flopped backward onto the floor. “The Bloody Habanero - Reika’s mom - asked me when I was going to confess..”

Kagami almost spit out his tea.

“She what?”

Shisui groaned. “In front of The Yellow Flash, Reika’s dad. Who smiled at me.”

Kagami wheezed. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

Shisui grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.

Kagami leaned forward, amused. “And what did Reika do?”

Shisui’s voice was muffled. “Nothing.”

Kagami blinked. “Nothing?”

Shisui sat up again, looking personally victimized. “She just sighed and asked them why they were making this weird, because -” he choked on the words, “because I’m just like that.”

Kagami burst out laughing again.

Shisui groaned dramatically, grabbing his head. “And then Minato-san kept smiling at me like he knows.”

Kagami nodded sagely. “Oh, he definitely knows.”

Shisui whispered in despair, “He’s letting me live because it’s funnier this way.”

Kagami actually fell back laughing.

Shisui glared at the ceiling. “I am never going back there.”

Kagami grinned. “When’s the next dinner?”

Shisui whimpered. “Next week.”

Kagami smirked. “Well. At least you’ve got time to prepare.”

Shisui flopped back onto the floor. “I need to fake my death.”

Kagami, still laughing, just shook his head. “You’re doomed.”

And Shisui knew it was true.

~

The next day at the Academy was hell.

Shisui had barely survived the night after The Dinner at Reika’s Incident. He had spent hours lying awake in bed, replaying every single moment of that awful, awful meal, feeling more and more like his soul was leaving his body.

Which was how he found himself dragging his feet toward the Academy, emotionally shattered, running on zero hope, and utterly dreading whatever fresh horrors the day would bring.

And then it got worse. Because Reika was waiting for him.

Smiling. Completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown she had caused.

Shisui groaned, already exhausted. “Morning, Reika.”

Reika beamed. “Good morning, Shisui!”

Shisui squinted at her, trying to see if there was any sign of awareness in those bright blue eyes.

There wasn’t. None. Absolutely zero.

She was the smartest person he knew. She demolished tests like she had them for breakfast. She could read a person’s intentions in milliseconds, during both a fight and a conversation. She understood people better than anyone he’d ever met.

Except, it seemed, when it came to romance. 

She was fine. Meanwhile, he was dying.

Before he could process that injustice, Anko appeared out of nowhere and threw herself onto his desk, grinning way too wide.

“Well, well, well,” she purred. “If it isn’t Konoha’s Most Suffering Man.”

Shisui groaned, pressing his hands to his face. “Go away.”

Anko ignored him, turning to Reika with glee. “So, Reika,” she said casually, “you really don’t get it?”

Reika blinked at her. “Get what?”

Anko looked like she had just been handed the best day of her life.

Shisui whimpered.

“Oh, this is amazing,” Anko cackled. “You’re really this clueless?”

Reika tilted her head. “Clueless about what?”

Shisui seethed. “Anko, shut up.”

Anko did not shut up.

Instead, she grinned even wider and leaned in toward Reika. “Oh, no, no, no. I need to see how deep this goes.” She turned to Shisui. “Hey, Shisui.”

Shisui glared. “What.”

Anko smirked. “Do you like Reika?”

Shisui exploded.

“YES, ANKO, I LIKE REIKA, THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF MY ETERNAL SUFFERING.”

The class went silent. Shisui wanted to die.

Reika frowned.

“But I like you too, Shisui.”

Shisui froze. Anko choked.

Shisui turned to Reika, horrified, as her expression remained completely and utterly confused.

Reika stared, and said, like it was obvious - 

“You’re my best friend.”

Shisui grabbed Anko’s arm so hard that she wheezed. Someone in the class burst out laughing.

“She really doesn’t get it,” he whispered in despair.

Anko was crying. Shisui was dying. Reika was fine .

Shisui flopped onto his desk. “I am in hell.”

Anko, completely wheezing, slammed a hand on the table. “Oh—oh my gods, she’s so oblivious—”

Reika still looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

Shisui grabbed the sides of his head. “Reika.”

“Yes?”

“I am in love with you.”

Reika nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Silence. Shisui blinked. Anko lost it.

Reika sighed, tilting her head slightly. “I just don’t understand why that means Kaa-san and Tou-san were acting strange.”

Shisui screamed into his hands. Anko fell to the floor, full-body laughing. Reika just sat there, utterly unbothered, looking vaguely puzzled.

Someone whispered, “Oh my gods.”

Shisui whimpered.

“I am never recovering from this,” he mumbled into his hands.

Anko gasped for air. “Oh—you poor thing—”

Reika frowned at her. “Why are you laughing?”

Anko rolled onto her back, absolutely wheezing. “Because—you—you don’t get it!”

Reika frowned more. “Get what?”

Anko looked at Shisui like she was witnessing the greatest tragedy of their generation.

Shisui, shattered, just shook his head.

“Nothing, Reika,” he whispered, voice broken. “Nothing at all.”

Reika blinked at him.

Then, with a soft smile, she reached out and patted his hand.

“It’s okay, Shisui,” she said gently. “I love you too.”

Shisui actually died. Just - perished, right there, on his desk.

Anko had to leave the classroom because she was laughing so hard.

Shisui slumped, utterly, completely defeated.

Reika, with not a single clue, smiled at him and went back to her notes.

And Shisui finally, finally accepted his fate.

He was doomed .

Chapter Text

Then 

Kakashi didn’t often get visitors. Certainly not in the middle of the night.

So when the knock came—sharp, insistent—his first instinct was to ignore it. If it was important, they’d find another way. If it wasn’t, then they had no business at his door at this hour.

Then he heard the second knock. More frantic this time.

Kakashi sighed. If this was Gai, challenging him to some ridiculous test of endurance at two in the morning, he was going to commit a crime.

Dragging himself off the couch, he made his way to the door, rubbing a tired hand over his face. The exhaustion sat heavy in his bones, deeper than the mere absence of sleep. It was the kind of exhaustion that never really left, the kind that had been with him for years—since Minato, since Rin, since Obito.

He opened the door, prepared to glare, prepared to shut down whatever nonsense awaited him.

But the words never made it past his lips.

Because standing there, in the dim light of the hallway, was Reika. Minato’s daughter. Whom he hadn’t seen in six weeks - not since her parents’ funeral, when she’d been standing there, silent tears going down her face, a sleeping infant cradled in her arms. 

And in her arms right now—wailing, red-faced, inconsolable—was Naruto. Or, at least, he assumed the baby was Naruto. It couldn’t really be anyone else.

Kakashi stared.

Reika’s face was pale, her hair wild, her hands gripping the child too tightly. Dark circles sat heavy under her eyes, mirroring his own. But it wasn’t the exhaustion that held him still—it was the sheer desperation in her expression. He’d never seen her like this before.

“Do you know anything about babies?” she blurted, voice thick with frustration, with something dangerously close to tears. “He won’t stop crying, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

Kakashi’s brain stuttered.

Babies?

Did he know anything about babies?

No. Absolutely not. His entire life had been dedicated to war, to bloodshed, to death. The closest thing to caring for another life had been taking care of his summons, and Pakkun, who was essentially self-sufficient, was not an infant.

“I’ve tried feeding him,” Reika continued, and Kakashi watched, frozen, as her composure cracked and tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve tried rocking him, I’ve tried changing his diaper, but nothing’s—nothing’s working, and I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice broke on the last words, and Kakashi felt something stir in his chest. An old instinct. One he had ignored for years.

This was Reika. Reika, who had been a presence on the fringes of his life since they were children. Reika, whose father had tried to tether him to something after everything had fallen apart. Reika, who now stood at his door, holding Minato’s son, looking at him like he was the only person left who could help.

Because, maybe, he was.

Kakashi exhaled slowly.

He should say no. He should turn her away. He knew less than nothing about babies, about infants and their care. And - more than that - he was Friend-Killer Kakashi. Cold-blooded Kakashi. There literally was not a less qualified person to help her than him. 

But she’d turned to him despite that. She must not have had anyone else left, judging by the sheer desperation in her eyes. 

And this was Minato’s son. And his daughter. Reika. Surely that meant something. 

He should say no. He really should. But - 

Against his better judgment, against every instinct screaming at him to stay distant, he stepped aside.

Reika nearly collapsed in relief.

She hurried inside, still bouncing Naruto in her arms, though her movements were sluggish, almost clumsy with exhaustion. Kakashi closed the door behind them, casting a wary glance at the still-wailing infant.

What the hell was he supposed to do with this?

But it was too late to turn back now.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I have an idea.”

And then, before he could think better of it, before he could question what his life had become, before he could process the absurdity of the situation, he ran through the summoning seals and, with a quiet poof , Pakkun appeared on his couch.

The small pug blinked at him blearily, then looked around.

His gaze landed on Reika. Then on Naruto.

Then, finally, on Kakashi.

A long silence. Naruto was still screaming.

Pakkun sighed deeply. He looked a mixture of resigned and very, very judgemental. “You owe me, kid.”

Kakashi shrugged. “Just… do something.”

Pakkun grumbled under his breath but padded over. With little fanfare, he shoved his face directly into Naruto’s space.

The effect was instantaneous.

Naruto went silent.

The child’s wide blue eyes locked onto Pakkun, his chubby hands reaching out, grabbing the dog’s ears with delighted squeals. Pakkun bore it with the patience of a long-suffering elder.

Reika, still breathing heavily from the emotional breakdown she had nearly had at his door, stared in utter disbelief. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Kakashi snorted.

She turned to glare at him. “ What. ”

He shrugged. “Put him on the couch.”

She hesitated. Then, carefully—almost reverently—she set Naruto on the floor. At Kakashi’s raised brow, she quickly defended herself.

“I read that infants shouldn’t be left on couches,” she said, her voice still slightly breathless, hands hovering near Naruto like she was ready to catch him at any moment should he somehow fall off the floor. “The cushions could smother them, or they could fall if they roll off. The floor is better.”

Kakashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn’t about to argue, but it was kind of funny that she was going on about infant safety like something she’d learned out of a textbook - which, honestly, probably wasn’t far from the truth. “Okay. Tea?”

Reika blinked. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yes. Please.”

He led her to the kitchen, putting the kettle on while she sat at the table, shoulders slumped, her hands still trembling faintly.

He studied her. The way exhaustion clung to her, the way she looked like she was barely keeping herself upright.

He reached for the kettle and moved it off the stove.

“Forget the tea,” he muttered, turning back to her. “Take a shower. Then sleep. You can borrow some pajamas.”

Reika frowned, confused. “I… what?”

He tilted his head. “Shower,” he repeated slowly, enunciating clearly, as speaking to a particularly slow genin. “Then, sleep.”

She flushed. “I know what you—I just—” Her shoulders slumped, the fight leaving her as she exhaled. “You’ll keep an eye on Naruto? You and Pakkun?”

Kakashi’s entire body stiffened at the unspoken trust in her words.

She was asking him to watch over Minato’s son.

She was asking him to be responsible for someone again.

She was trusting him with her brother, the last person she had left. 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest.

“… Yeah.”

Reika exhaled, tension bleeding from her posture. “I… okay. Thank you.”

Kakashi nodded, avoiding her eyes. He made a vague shooing motion, desperate to rid himself of the heaviness that had settled in the room.

She hesitated for half a second—then smiled.

Not much. Just a small, tired thing.

But it did something to him.

And then she left, disappearing down the hall. She told him to wake her up after four hours.

~

Kakashi stared at Pakkun. Pakkun stared back. 

“I’m not going to let him do this for four hours,” Pakkun said flatly, his ears still being pulled. 

Kakashi exhaled. “I know.”

“You’re gonna have to feed him at some point.”

He froze. “... What?”

“And maybe get some diapers.”

He felt like he was going to pass out. “I don’t know how -”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Pakkun said, completely unrepentant. 

~

When Reika woke up twelve hours later, looking more rested than he had seen her in weeks, Kakashi was standing in the middle of the living room, one arm awkwardly cradling Naruto while the other held a half-full bottle. There was an opened box of diapers on the coffee table. Pakkun, still there, lay on the couch, watching him carefully to make sure he didn’t drop anything - or anyone. 

Reika blinked at him, looking vaguely horrified. “You fed him?”

Kakashi glanced at Naruto, who was happily gnawing on his flak jacket. Panic built in his chest.

“… Was I not supposed to? The label on the formula I got said I needed to feed him every two to four hours based on his age -”

Reika made a choked noise. Then she laughed.

And Kakashi—though he would never admit it—felt something in his chest settle.

Because, somehow, this had become his life.

And against all odds, against every piece of himself that had resisted—

He didn’t mind.

~

Kakashi hadn’t thought they’d want him around. Hadn’t thought she’d want him around.

Not really.

Not the way people wanted the company of good people. Not the way they welcomed comrades, family. That was for people who deserved it. People who hadn’t spent their lives letting the people they cared about die. People who weren’t him .

And yet—he kept finding himself here.

It had started with Reika showing up at his door, Naruto in her arms, barely holding herself together. He had let her in, helped her in the only way he knew how. And somehow, after that, he never quite left.

At first, it was just to check in. A quick visit to make sure the kid was still breathing, that Reika wasn’t drowning under the weight of it all. A drop-off of groceries when he noticed her fridge looking bare. A casual excuse to stop by under the pretense of having nothing better to do.

He was lying to himself, but he ignored that part.

Somewhere along the way, it became a habit.

Somewhere along the way, it became easy.

Reika never asked why he was there. She never gave him a reason to leave.

And so, he didn’t.

~

It was late when they walked through the village, the streets quiet under the soft glow of lanterns. Naruto was tucked against Reika’s chest in a sling, his tiny breaths steady against her heartbeat. Kakashi walked beside her, hands in his pockets, his usual lazy slouch in place.

But for once, it wasn’t just an act.

For once, he wasn’t forcing himself to be here.

For once, he wanted to be.

This was dangerous. He should stop showing up, stop letting himself want this, stop having this entirely. Stop getting attached. 

He knew all that. And yet, he stayed anyway. Because he was weak, because Naruto was tiny, because Reika was only two years younger than him, ten years old, and had no one else left. 

Just like him. 

He glanced at her, at the tired but steady way she moved. She had always been like this—grit in her bones, quiet strength in the way she carried herself. He respected that. Admired it, even.

He also knew it wasn’t enough.

“You’re not off the mission roster,” he noted. He’d checked last week, just to be sure. 

Reika exhaled, slow and controlled. “No. I got a few months’ leave, but after that, I need to go back.”

Kakashi hummed. He wasn’t surprised. He had always known she wouldn’t stay grounded forever. Shinobi didn’t get to just stop . Even if they should.

“Who’ll take care of Naruto?” he asked.

Reika let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Good question.”

She didn’t have an answer.

Kakashi already knew that. He had known it the moment he saw her standing at his doorstep, Naruto in her arms, desperation in her voice.

The silence stretched between them, long and thin.

Then—

“I could.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

He wasn’t sure what made him say them. Maybe it was Minato’s ghost, lingering in the back of his mind, a promise unspoken but never forgotten. Maybe it was Naruto’s small, warm weight against Reika’s chest, the reminder that this was his sensei’s son, his legacy, his responsibility .

Or maybe it was just that—somewhere between the long nights, the quiet visits, the moments he wasn’t supposed to stay but did anyway—he had already made the choice.

Reika swallowed. “I can’t ask that of you—”

“Reika.”

She stopped.

Kakashi looked at her then, really looked at her, his eye tired and knowing.

She could ask.

But she wouldn’t.

Because Reika was like him. Too independent. Too stubborn. Too afraid of burdening others.

Which meant he had to say it for her.

“You don’t have any other choice,” he said.

A long silence.

She closed her eyes, exhaling like she was letting go of something heavy. “I know.”

Kakashi nodded, accepting the unspoken words between them.

Then it’s settled.

A pause.

“So?” he asked, his voice even, as if the answer didn’t matter.

She opened her eyes, and when she looked at him, there was something soft in her expression. Something grateful.

“Thanks,” she said.

Kakashi looked away immediately, tension curling at the base of his spine. Gratitude was harder to accept than anything else. He didn’t deserve it, not after everything.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

Reika huffed a quiet laugh.

They kept walking.

And Kakashi told himself—again—that he was only doing this for Minato.

Not because, for the first time in years, staying didn’t feel so hard.

~

It happened gradually.

At first, it was just a matter of necessity. Reika had to return to missions eventually, and someone needed to watch Naruto. Kakashi had already made his choice—whether consciously or not—and that meant splitting the responsibility.

They took turns.

Reika would head out before dawn, her steps slow but steady, her eyes lingering on Naruto longer than necessary. And Kakashi—habitual insomniac that he was—would already be there, half-awake, leaning against the doorframe of her apartment, mask in place, hands tucked in his pockets like he hadn’t been watching over them both the whole time.

She would hesitate.

And he would wave her off with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Go,” he’d say, as if the decision had already been made.

It had.

And when she came back—exhausted, shoulders stiff with fatigue—he would still be there. Naruto would be tucked safely in his crib, or stubbornly holding onto Kakashi’s pant leg, his small fingers curled tightly in the fabric.

Reika would exhale, something unspoken settling between them.

He wasn’t supposed to stay past that.

But then—

“You hungry?” Reika asked once, casual, offhanded, as she set down her gear.

Kakashi blinked. He had been getting ready to leave—hand already on the doorknob, a carefully crafted excuse at the tip of his tongue.

But then Naruto let out a delighted squeal from the floor, tugging at his pant leg like he was trying to physically anchor him in place.

And Kakashi hesitated.

“… I could eat,” he admitted, more to himself than to her.

Reika nodded, unsurprised.

And that was it.

He stayed.

~

One meal turned into two.

Two turned into four.

Then, at some point, it just became expected.

Kakashi didn’t know when, exactly, it changed. Maybe it was the time Reika had shoved a plate into his hands without asking, grumbling something about “too skinny for an ANBU dropout” under her breath. Or maybe it was the time Naruto had thrown a tantrum when he tried to leave before dinner, his chubby arms latching around Kakashi’s knee in a surprising display of strength.

Or maybe—maybe—it was just easier than coming up with excuses.

Because it was easier.

Easier to fall into this quiet routine, this strange, unspoken understanding between them. Easier to pretend this was just convenience, just a temporary arrangement, just something he was doing for Minato’s ghost.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind the company.

He stopped thinking too hard about it. He simply existed there, in that small, quiet apartment, in the space that had become as familiar to him as his own.

Some nights, he still told himself he would leave once Naruto was asleep.

But then—

Reika would roll her eyes, shove an extra blanket at him, and mutter, “Couch is right there.”

And Kakashi—tired, but not quite enough to argue—would simply accept it.

He always told himself it was just for that one night.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

Until, somewhere along the way, staying became easier than leaving.

~

She was a better cook than he was, not that it was hard to be - he couldn’t even make rice without burning it. That was the only reason he stayed, he told himself in the beginning. Because he didn’t feel like getting takeout. Because the instant ramen tasted like salt and ash on his tongue. Because she actually put vegetables in her food, and he needed the micronutrients. 

He told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that the last time he’d had a home cooked meal was when Minato and Kushina had been alive. He told himself that it had nothing to do with how Reika never expected anything of him, not even conversation - she just let him be, just let him exist, and he'd never known silence could be so comfortable. He told himself that it was free food, and it’d be foolish to turn it down. 

He told himself a lot of things. None of them were true. 

~

He started seeing Reika differently. He wasn’t sure when it happened. It crept up on him, slowly, insidiously, like a vine creeping up a wall and digging in roots, until it had become part of the very foundation of who he was.

Maybe it was the way she looked at Naruto.

Kakashi wasn’t sure when he started noticing it, but once he did, he couldn’t stop. The way her expression softened when she watched the boy sleep, her fingers brushing against his unruly blond hair like he was the most precious thing in the world. The way she let out small, exasperated sighs when Naruto did something ridiculous but still tucked him against her side like he belonged there.

The way she carried the weight of his future on her back, stubborn and steady, even when the world had given her every reason to let go.

He had never been good at hope. But Reika was.

And somehow, without meaning to, he had started wanting to see the world that way, too.

~

Then there was the way she took care of him .

Not in the obvious, deliberate sense—not the way she did with Naruto.

But in the small, quiet ways.

Like how she always made too much food, as if she already expected him to be there for dinner. Or how she always had an extra blanket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch on the nights he stayed too late to justify leaving. Or how she would shove a cup of tea into his hands after a long mission, saying nothing, but lingering just a second longer than necessary before walking away.

Kakashi wasn’t used to people staying.

He wasn’t used to people seeing past the parts of him that were broken and still offering him warmth anyway.

He told himself it didn’t mean anything. 

He kept telling himself that, even as he caught himself watching her longer than he should.

Even as his fingers twitched sometimes, as if resisting the urge to reach out.

~

Then, there were the quiet moments.

The ones that snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention.

Like the nights they sat on the balcony, side by side, neither of them speaking. Just listening to the crickets, the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of the village. He had never been good at silence with other people. It always felt heavy, expectant, filled with things unsaid. But with Reika, it never was.

Or the way she would lean against the kitchen counter after a long day, arms crossed, her hair messy from exhaustion, teasing him about something unimportant, something ridiculous, something that made the tightness in his chest ease in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Or the way her eyes lingered on him sometimes—like she was seeing something he didn’t think anyone had ever looked for before.

Or the time she had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up against the armrest, and he had just… sat there, watching her breathe, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar and unwanted and terrifying .

Because somewhere along the way, he had started caring.

And that—that was dangerous.

~

Kakashi had lost everyone he had ever cared about.

Obito. Rin. Minato. Kushina. His father.

He wasn’t supposed to let himself want things.

He wasn’t supposed to let himself have things.

Because caring meant losing .

And losing—he wasn’t sure he could survive it again.

But Reika was different.

She never asked anything from him. Never demanded more than he could give. Never pushed him into anything he wasn’t ready for.

She just… let him be .

And somehow, that was worse.

Because it made him want.

Because it made him hope .

And hope was dangerous.

~

Kakashi didn't understand how she did it.

How Reika could still be so soft in a world that had chewed them up and spat them out, that had taken everything from them and left them with nothing but ghosts. How she could look at him with warmth in her eyes, with kindness he had never earned, with softness he didn’t deserve.

She wasn’t just beautiful—though she was, with that blood-red hair catching the light and those bright blue eyes that saw through all his walls. He wasn’t blind - he knew she was beautiful. But it wasn’t just that that made his eyes linger. It was the way she touched the world, the way she never let it harden her. The way she smiled at him like he was worth something more than the blood on his hands.

He didn’t understand her. Didn’t understand how she could still be so kind to him, so gentle with Naruto, when she’d lost everything she’d ever cared about, too. Didn’t understand how she could be so soft, when that was everything a shinobi couldn’t be - everything he wasn’t, everything he didn’t let himself be. He had cut those pieces of himself away and discarded them as useless, while she’d preserved them and let them show. They were so similar, and yet so different, and - he didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand her.

Kakashi had spent his whole life keeping people at a distance. He’d told himself it was necessary, that it was better that way. That losing people didn’t hurt as much when you never let yourself have them in the first place.

And yet—Reika had never listened to that unspoken rule. She was always just... there.

At his doorstep in the middle of the night with a wailing infant in her arms. At his side in quiet moments, handing him a cup of tea without asking if he wanted it, because she already knew. Walking next to him down the empty streets of Konoha, carrying a weight she never let show, trusting him enough to share the silence.

It was dangerous, the way she made him feel. Like he belonged. Like he was home . 

Because she never asked him for anything. Never demanded more than he was willing to give. She simply existed in his life, warm and steady, offering him something fragile—something breakable—without expecting him to return it. The way she looked at him made him feel like she’d simply handed him the most precious thing in the world with zero expectations, and he didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know how to hold it without shattering it to pieces - because that was the only thing he’d ever done to precious things. 

And that terrified him.

Because he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to break this, break her, break this incredible, unbelievable, fragile thing she’d offered to him. He wanted her to look at someone else with that softness in her eyes, someone who actually deserved it. But even the mere thought of her looking at someone else that way made everything inside him revolt against it. He knew she deserved better than him. She was too - good. Too everything he wasn’t, too everything he shouldn’t touch for fear of breaking it completely.

He wanted to take what she was offering. Wanted to believe that he could have this, that he could deserve this. Gods, he wanted it so badly he could barely breathe sometimes. But he had lost too much, failed too many times, and he didn’t know how to hold something this precious without failing again. And Reika—Reika deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t made of jagged edges and broken pieces. Someone who wouldn’t get her killed by virtue of existing. 

So he kept his distance. Or at least, he tried.

But every time she smiled at him, every time she handed him a plate of food without asking if he was hungry, every time she leaned just a little too close, like she didn’t realize she was chipping away at the walls he had spent years building—

Kakashi felt himself slipping.

And deep down, he knew—

It was already too late.

~

They were sitting on the grass in the park, watching Naruto toddle. He was two, now, and doing his utmost to catch a falling leaf. 

Next to him, Reika exhaled. “He’s getting faster.”

He hummed. “He’s getting smarter, too.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched her smile as Naruto finally managed to catch the leaf. He found himself studying the curve of it, how it rounded her cheeks and warmed her eyes, and then he realized what he was doing and studiously looked away. 

She hadn’t noticed. Thank the gods. 

Then - there was a brush of fingers against his wrist. He froze, waiting for her to move away, to realize what she was doing and withdraw - 

But she didn’t. She left her fingers there, on top of his hand. Not expecting anything. Just… there. Just touching. 

He swallowed. He held perfectly still. He should move away. He should finally put an end to whatever this was, whatever fragile, precious thing she was offering him. He really, really should. 

His heart pounded so hard he thought he might pass out. And then - 

He flipped his palm over and interlaced their fingers. And it felt like coming home.

~

He told himself it would be the first and only time he’d allow it. He told himself it’d been a single moment of weakness, that he’d put his walls back up immediately, that he couldn’t afford to care, to let himself want her. Not just for his sake, but for hers, too.

He told himself a lot of things. Once again, none of them were true. 

Because the next time Reika’s fingers crept towards his, he caught them again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Every time, he told himself it would be the last time. And every time, he lied. 

~

Kakashi had faced death countless times.

He had stood on the battlefield, knee-deep in blood, watching comrades fall, feeling their loss like phantom limbs. He had faced down S-rank criminals, stared into the eyes of enemies who would kill him without a second thought. He had seen hell, lived through it, walked out the other side.

And yet—nothing in his life had prepared him for this.

Nothing had prepared him for Naruto squinting up at him over breakfast, eyes full of childish certainty, and dropping a sentence that nearly killed him.

“Kashi-nii,” Naruto said, voice serious in a way only a five-year-old could manage, “you and Aneki love each other, right?”

Kakashi choked on his tea.

He wasn’t sure which was worse—the tea burning the back of his throat, or the silence that followed.

The absolute, crushing silence.

He went still. Reika, halfway through fluffing the rice, stopped. The spoon in her hand froze mid-motion.

The entire world seemed to stop.

Naruto, oblivious to the fact that he had just set off a metaphorical explosion in the middle of their kitchen, tilted his head, waiting.

Kakashi, still recovering from the near-death experience of inhaling tea, blinked. His brain scrambled, useless, slow, trying to catch up.

“… What?” he managed weakly.

Reika turned from the stove, her eyes wide.

Naruto, taking their silence as confirmation of something he clearly already believed, nodded to himself, arms crossed, looking entirely too smug for a child who still couldn’t tie his sandals properly.

“But you do,” he said, nodding firmly. “I see it.”

Kakashi could feel the blood drain from his face. His fingers twitched around his cup.

He sees it?

Reika, looking every bit as horrified as he felt, cleared her throat. “Uh. Naruto—”

“I mean, you act like you do,” Naruto continued, completely ignoring her. He started counting on his fingers. “Kashi-nii is always here. Aneki always makes him food. You sit close together all the time—”

Kakashi resisted the urge to physically flee the room.

Naruto wasn’t done.

“—And sometimes,” he added, squinting, “I see you holding hands when you think I’m not looking.”

Reika nearly dropped the spoon.

Kakashi wanted to disappear. Right there. Vanish. Be anywhere but here.

I could Shunshin, he thought wildly. I could Shunshin out of here right now. I could vanish, leave, never come back - 

Naruto beamed, utterly triumphant.

“You do love each other!”

Kakashi exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his face.

Oh, for the love of—

“We—Naruto, that’s not how it—”

“I knew it!” Naruto cheered, throwing his arms up like he had just won the lottery. He immediately started running in excited circles around the kitchen.

Reika looked at Kakashi.

Kakashi looked at Reika.

And, for the first time, Kakashi found himself thinking—

Was he really still pretending?

~

He watched from the corner of his eye as she lingered in the doorway of Naruto’s room that night. Her hair was down, spilling around her shoulders and down her back, the strands of red looking dangerously enticing in the moonlight. He wanted to reach for her, to run his fingers through her hair, to find out if it was soft and silky as it looked -

He ended that train of thought brutally. What the fuck was he doing? He shouldn’t be thinking this. He shouldn’t be thinking any of this. 

Finally, Reika stepped away from the doorway, closed the door, and walked onto the balcony to join him. He didn’t look at her, didn’t trust himself to look at her and not think those dangerous, traitorous thoughts. 

It didn’t help, though. Because he’d seen her in the moonlight enough to know how it made her skin glow, her eyes shine, her lips look plump and - 

He stopped himself. He needed to leave. He needed to end this, to get up, leave, never come back, for both their sakes’. 

But gods, he didn’t want to. 

Just for tonight, he told himself. He’d leave tomorrow. For good. He’d let himself have this one last time, and then he’d leave, because it was too dangerous to keep doing this, keep letting himself have this. 

It’d been five years since she’d shown up at his door at two in the morning. She didn’t need him around anymore - Naruto would start at the Academy in a year. 

She didn’t need him anymore. But gods, he wanted her to. 

He shoved that train of thought down into the depths of his mind where it belonged. 

He exhaled. “He’s getting bigger,” he murmured. 

She hummed, completely oblivious to his thoughts. “Too fast.”

He glanced at her, immediately looking away when he found himself admiring the sheen of moonlight on her skin. “You don’t have to watch over him every second, you know.” 

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “You say that, but who’s the one who checked if he was breathing five times last night?”

… Fair. He couldn’t argue with that. 

The ache in his chest doubled. After tonight, he wouldn’t have this anymore. Wouldn’t have Reika, looking at him with that gentle softness. Wouldn’t have Naruto, looking at him with adoration in his big eyes. Wouldn’t have - 

Home.

The thought came unbidden. He pushed it down. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve any of this. He couldn’t let himself have this, because if he did - if he did, and he lost them - 

He’d never survive it. 

“That’s what I thought,” Reika smirked, and Kakashi tuned back into the conversation. 

He exhaled, leaning his head back against the wall. “I wasn’t counting.” 

“You never have to.”

He chuckled, feeling the tension drain out of him. Gods, this was dangerous, how he felt around her. How much he wanted this. Not just for tonight - but forever. Days with them, nights with her. 

He let himself imagine it, for a moment. Him, Reika, and Naruto walking down the street, Naruto swinging one of their hands in each of his, nestled between them comfortably. Them, eating meals together, like it was normal, like it was natural. And then - nighttime, after Naruto was asleep, sitting next to Reika on the balcony. Soft, gentle conversation. No expectations, no interruptions - just them. Like this. 

And then - Naruto, older. At the Academy. Him and Reika seeing him off, their hands intertwined. Reika would probably be holding back tears and pretending she wasn’t. He’d press a kiss to her temple, and she’d lean into him, and - 

His heart hurt, because - because he didn’t need to imagine most of it. Not the first part, at least. That was what he already had. And he knew he had to give it up - but gods, he didn’t want to. He didn’t think he’d wanted to have anything more in his entire life. 

He knew he should leave. Knew he needed to. 

But he didn’t want to. And - for the first time - he wasn’t sure if he could. Now that he’d had this, could he really go back to the way he used to live? Alone, in his apartment, no Reika, no Naruto, no home?

He wasn’t sure if he could survive losing them. But suddenly, he didn’t know if he could survive giving them up, either. 

And that terrified him more than anything, because it meant - it meant it might already be too late. 

But then hope sparked in his chest.

Maybe - maybe if it was too late anyway - maybe he could just enjoy this while it lasted, then. Let himself have this for as long as he could. If the end result was the same, maybe he could just… let himself have them. 

The tension eased out of him.

Then, Reika leaned against him. He stiffened immediately, but then his body automatically relaxed, shifting slightly to accommodate her. And, for the first time, he didn’t try to fight it. Didn’t lie to himself. He just let himself feel the warmth of her, her shoulder pressing against his upper arm, her side against his. 

He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He wanted this - he knew that. He’d wanted this for a while now, years, maybe. Since the first time she’d held his hand three years ago. Maybe even before then. Maybe since that night when they’d been walking and he’d offered to care for Naruto in her absence and she’d looked at him like he’d just handed her the world.

Just as he was relaxing into her, she spoke. 

“I love you.”

He inhaled sharply. His thoughts and breath both stuttered. He tensed, every thought screaming at him to turn her down, tell her no, beg her not to make this real - 

But it was already real. And he was done stopping himself from having this. Done stopping himself from wanting.

Because he’d been doing that for five goddamn years, and he was sick of it. 

Slowly, he exhaled, relaxing into it. He knew she wasn’t expecting anything. Knew she’d told him just to tell him, not to pressure him into saying it back.

But - for the first time - he let himself want to say it back. Because it was true. Because it’d been true for years, and he was done pretending that it wasn’t. Because - if she wanted him, if she’d chosen him - she deserved to hear it back. She deserved the entire world, and if she’d chosen him of all people to give it to her, then - then he couldn’t disappoint her. 

Even if he didn’t deserve her. Even if he’d never be worthy of her. He’d try - gods, for her, he’d try his very best. 

So he turned his head towards her, just a little, so he could see her profile better. 

“I love you too.” 

She let out a slow breath. And they sat there, in silence, gazing at the stars. 

Somehow, it was the most comfortable silence in the world. 

~

Kakashi had expected things to change.

He had expected the weight of their words to shift something between them, to create some kind of irreversible difference. He had thought that maybe, now that the words had been said—now that he had admitted the truth out loud—he would wake up the next morning and feel like the entire world had tilted.

But it didn’t.

The next day, he still found himself in the kitchen, drinking tea while Naruto chattered about his latest misadventure. Reika still handed him a plate of food without asking if he wanted any, and he still accepted it like it had always been meant for him.

And just like that, they continued to orbit each other—comfortably, naturally.

There were no awkward silences, no hesitations, no lingering questions about what their words meant . They simply were , as they had always been. As if those words had always existed between them, just unspoken.

And maybe they had.

Maybe that was why it didn’t feel strange at all.

~

He sat beside Reika on the balcony, not quite touching, but close enough to feel her presence, steady and warm. It had been a week since they had said it— I love you —and yet, nothing had changed. At least, not in the way he had feared it might.

There were no awkward pauses, no tense silences, no shift in the way they moved around each other. It had not been a confession, not in the way people usually meant it. It had been a fact, spoken aloud. Something they had always known, acknowledged in the way they had stayed, in the way neither of them had ever really left.

He understood that now. 

Tonight, like so many nights before, they talked—sometimes in words, sometimes in silence. It was easy, this thing between them, as effortless as breathing. And for a man who had spent his life treading carefully around attachments, around the things he wanted but did not allow himself to have, that ease was terrifying.

He looked at her, drinking her in. She was gazing at the moon, her head tilted up slightly, the light catching on the pale column of her throat. Her eyes were soft, coloured silver in the moonlight, her lips ever so slightly parted.

Gods, how was she real? How was she real, beside him, choosing him, looking like that? She was devastatingly beautiful, not just because of her looks, but because of her softness, her resilience, the way she’d lost everything she’d ever loved and still allowed herself to care. 

He watched the way she turned toward him, lips parting, about to say something—

But then their eyes met.

Kakashi had never been particularly good at hiding, but he had been better at it before Reika. He had perfected the art of keeping people at arm’s length, of never letting them see the fractures beneath the surface. But she— she had always seen.

And right now, in the pale moonlight, she was looking at him like she saw everything .

Like she saw the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers curled slightly against the wood beneath him, the way he was already leaning toward her before he even realized it.

She reached out slowly, as if waiting to see if he would stop her. He didn’t.

Her fingers brushed against his hair, tucking a strand away from his face, light as a whisper. A simple touch, a meaningless thing—except it wasn’t.

Because the moment she touched him, Kakashi inhaled.

Not sharply. Not in alarm. But in something like relief, like anticipation, like want.

He didn’t fight it. Didn’t try to hide it. And in that moment, she must have seen.

Because her expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes—something determined, something that told him she’d just made a decision.

And then she moved.

He barely had time to process it before her lips were against his, barely there, the softest, most hesitant press against the fabric of his mask. Not demanding, not expectant. Just a touch. Just a moment.

But it unraveled him completely.

He went still, totally, utterly still.

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Reika pulled back, eyes wide, as if realizing what she had done, as if regretting it.

“I—” she started, but Kakashi didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t - couldn’t - let her regret this, regret him, because if she did, it might break him entirely. And - gods, but he wanted - needed - more than that light, fleeting, there-and-gone-again press against his mask.

He caught her wrist, not tightly, not to hold her back—just enough to stop her from retreating.

She froze beneath his touch.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes back up to his.

Kakashi swallowed, pulse thudding in his ears. His grip on her wrist tightened slightly—not much, just enough to feel her there, to keep himself grounded.

And then, before he could second-guess himself, before he could remind himself of all the reasons why this was dangerous, why this was something he could lose—

He pulled his mask down.

The night air was cool against his skin. Reika’s breath caught.

She had never seen him like this. No one had.

He knew what she must be thinking—knew that, in the past, he would have felt exposed, raw, vulnerable beneath her gaze. But right now, under the weight of her eyes, he did not feel weak.

He felt wanted .

Reika didn’t say anything. She didn’t move for a long moment, just looked at him, taking him in, like she had been waiting for this for far longer than she had let herself admit. Her eyes were soft with - with something like adoration, something careful, something tender, something he wanted to bottle up and keep next to his heart for the rest of his life. 

Gods - it was selfish, it was greedy, but he never wanted her to stop looking at him like this. Never.

And then, slowly, hesitantly—

She leaned in again.

This time, it wasn’t fleeting.

This time, Kakashi met her halfway.

Her lips were warm against his, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing the feel of him. His fingers curled against her wrist, grounding himself, trying to remind himself that this was real.

That she was real.

And gods, she was.

The tension bled out of him as he let himself want this, let himself have this. He deepened the kiss—not out of desperation, not out of hunger, but out of the simple, undeniable truth that he had wanted this for so long and was finally, finally letting himself have this. 

She tasted faintly sweet. He’d never liked sweet things before, but this - this, her , he could taste forever if she let him. 

Something settled in his chest, something warm, something soft. It felt like belonging, like home—like the quiet certainty of knowing that, for once, he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone.

Because he was never alone, not when she was there. 

Reika exhaled against him, her hand lifting, fingertips ghosting along his jaw, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if he would let her.

He did. Gods, he’d let her do anything to him. Anything she wanted, he’d give to her. Gladly. Instantly. Without a single protest. 

Because it was her. Because she deserved everything. Because - against all odds, even though he didn’t deserve her - she’d chosen him. Him. Friend-Killer Kakashi, cold-blooded Kakashi - she’d looked at him, at his broken pieces, at the blood soaking his hands, and somehow, somehow seen something she deemed worth loving. 

The thought was terrifying. He didn’t deserve her - gods, he’d never deserved anything less in his entire life. 

But he wanted to. He wanted to be better, softer, worthy of her - because she deserved that. 

She was careful with him, always careful, but Kakashi—Kakashi had spent his entire life being careful. Careful with his words, careful with his attachments, careful with his heart.

But with her—

With her, he didn’t want to be.

She pulled back first, just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers still against his skin.

His breath was unsteady. His heart was a riot in his chest.

Reika smiled—small, soft, unbearably gentle .

“Hi,” she murmured.

Kakashi let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his thumb brushing absentmindedly along the inside of her wrist. 

“Hi,” he murmured back.

Neither of them moved away. They just - looked at each other. And he - he couldn’t help himself. 

He leaned in for another kiss, and she let him. 

~

The next morning, his courage fled him. He’d always been a coward when it came to the important things, and Reika was no different. He’d spent so long hesitating, doubting himself, not letting himself have this, that he couldn’t just undo all that just because he’d had a fleeting moment of bravery. 

For two months, Reika endured his hesitation. For two months, she was patient. She reached for him first, she touched his hair, she pulled down his mask and pressed kisses to his lips, and he’d always meet her halfway, but he never once reached for her first. 

Then, one day, she looked at him, and she said, “You don’t have to hesitate, you know.” Her words were quiet but lined with conviction. “You’re it for me.”

He went perfectly still, staring at her. He wanted to believe her - gods, he wanted to so badly. She must’ve seen the hesitation - always, that damn hesitation - in his eyes, because she smiled at him, and suddenly her eyes, her smile, were so, so gentle, so full of something tender, so overflowing with all the love she felt for him. 

His breath caught in his throat, and - he felt it as his last wall crumbled. He couldn’t say no to her, couldn’t not believe her, not when she looked at him like that, with so much love in her eyes that he could drown in them. 

He reached for her, touched her face, and his heart threw itself violently against his ribs. Gods, her skin was so soft. He touched her carefully, terrified that one wrong move would take her away from him, and she - gods, she let him. She let him trace her cheekbone, the line of her jaw, run his thumb along the edges of her lips.

“I’ll try,” he said quietly, because he couldn’t promise her that he’d stop hesitating, not without lying - but gods, he’d try. For her, he’d do anything. 

“That’s all I want,” she said softly. He pulled at her bottom lip with his thumb, just a little, and her breath hitched. She smiled at him, tilting her head. “So, are you gonna kiss me, Hatake, or just stare at me all night?” 

He huffed a quiet laugh, pulling down his mask and kissing her in one smooth motion. He didn’t let himself hesitate, didn’t let himself overthink it. 

Because she’d asked him to. Because he didn’t want to hesitate with her anymore. Because she deserved to have someone who didn’t hesitate, and he - gods - he wanted to be that person. Even if he didn’t deserve her, even if he’d never deserve her - he wanted to try, for as long as she’d have him. 

~

One evening, Naruto, almost six, just a few months away from starting at the Academy, climbed into Kakashi’s lap, curling up against his chest with a contented sigh, the way he sometimes did when he was half-asleep.

“Kashi-nii?” he mumbled, voice drowsy.

“Hm?”

“You’re staying forever, right?”

Kakashi stiffened.

Forever .

It was such a simple thing, the way Naruto said it. Like he hadn’t even considered the possibility of Kakashi leaving. Like he had never questioned it at all.

Kakashi felt Reika watching him, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t know what she was thinking. He didn’t know what he was thinking.

And yet—

He found himself answering without hesitation.

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a hand against Naruto’s back, letting himself sink into the warmth of it. “I’m staying.”

And for the first time, it wasn’t a decision.

It was just the truth.

Chapter Text

Reika headed to Training Ground 3, dread building in her stomach. She could feel the four chakra signatures there - two of them intimately familiar, the other two less so, but still, it felt surreal. 

She inhaled, stepping out onto the edge of the training grounds from behind the cover of the trees. Minato was already looking at her, having sensed her approach, with his team - his full team, as of a few months ago - gathered around him. In the middle of a debrief, probably. 

“Reika,” he said, and she relaxed at the warmth in his tone. She grinned, holding up a stack of bentos. 

“Hi, Tou-san,” she chirped. “You forgot to pack a lunch, so I made something for you and your team.”

“Tou-san?!” Obito echoed, screeching. He whipped his head around to stare at Minato. “You have a daughter?!” 

Minato just looked at him, visibly amused. “Clearly,” he quipped. 

Obito flushed, still visibly baffled. “But she doesn’t look anything like you!” 

Next to him, Kakashi sighed.

“Hi, Reika,” he said, ignoring Obito completely, but there was a quiet warmth in his tone. “I didn’t know you could cook.” 

Reika blinked at him in confusion. “... I’ve been bringing you food for over a year. Did you think I’ve just been creating it out of thin air? Or stealing it?”

“... Shut up,” Kakashi mumbled, his ears turning pink. He glanced at Minato, who was explaining that Reika took after her mother in terms of appearance, before ambling over to her. 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Obito was saying, before doing a double-take. “Bakashi, you’re… talking? Voluntarily?!”

Rin punched him in the arm, but even she looked surprised. “Don’t be rude.”

Kakashi sighed. “... I talk,” he said, a little defensively. 

Obito snorted. “Yeah, like, once a week, under extreme duress.” 

Reika frowned at him, but thankfully, Minato intervened. 

“Thank you for the bentos, Reika,” he said warmly, though he gave a pointed look at his team. 

Obito wilted. “Yeah, Reika-chan, thanks for the bentos.”

“Thank you,” Rin chimed in, looking relieved that the tension had dissolved. 

“... Thanks,” Kakashi sighed. 

Reika forced a smile and handed them out before making to leave. Then, someone caught her by the wrist. She turned, blinking up at Kakashi in confusion. 

“Yeah?” 

“... You gave me too much,” he muttered. 

She tilted her head. “I know. It’s so that you’ll have leftovers.”

A pause. 

“You didn’t bring yourself a bento.”

“Well, yeah,” Reika said, like it was obvious. “I’m not a part of the team. I didn’t want to intrude. Besides, I already ate.”

Kakashi didn’t frown, but there was something displeased lurking in the corners of his eyes. “Stay.”

Reika hesitated, glancing at the rest of her dad’s team. Minato was smiling, a little curiously, but he wasn’t upset. Obito was staring, open-mouthed and completely unsubtle. Rin’s eyes were a little wide. 

Reika felt her stomach churn uncomfortably. She felt like she was caught in the middle, torn between wanting Team Minato to bond on their own and wanting to spend time with Kakashi and her dad. 

“They’re gonna have to get used to you eventually,” Kakashi said, sensing the reason behind her hesitation. “And it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together.”

“I…” Reika wavered. 

“Stay, Reika-chan,” Rin said warmly, smiling at her. “You won’t be intruding.”

Reika hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding. “Okay,” she murmured. Kakashi released her wrist, and she turned back toward the group, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their collective attention.

Minato, ever the observant one, just smiled as if this had all been part of his plan. “Well, now that we’ve settled that, let’s eat,” he said cheerfully, motioning for them all to sit.

Kakashi moved without hesitation, settling cross-legged beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Reika noticed Obito still gaping at them like he was witnessing some kind of bizarre phenomenon. She pointedly ignored him as she lowered herself to the ground. Rin sat across from her, setting her bento neatly in her lap, while Minato, looking entirely at ease, took his seat at the head of their little group.

Still, the tension was there—lingering, unspoken, but felt nonetheless.

Reika could feel Rin’s gaze on her, assessing but not unkind. Obito, on the other hand, had abandoned all subtlety. He was squinting at her, his bento momentarily forgotten.

Reika sighed, giving in. “What, Obito?”

Obito, to his credit, did not even try to play innocent. “I just—so, wait. Let me get this straight. You and Bakashi are friends?”

Kakashi didn’t even flinch at the nickname, already opening his bento with the precision of someone who had mastered ignoring Obito’s antics. 

Reika, however, felt a flicker of irritation. “Yes.”

Obito gasped, as if she had just confirmed the most scandalous rumor in existence. “You mean he actually has a friend?! You?!”

Kakashi, without looking up, sighed. “Obito, eat your food before you choke on your own stupidity.”

Obito groaned dramatically. “See?!” He turned to Rin for backup, but she was busy eating her own rice balls, clearly pretending not to be involved in whatever this was. Desperate, he whirled back to Reika. “How? Why? How did you even become friends with him?!”

Reika grinned. “He tolerates me.”

Kakashi finally looked up from his bento, leveling her with a flat stare. “Barely.”

Reika beamed. “See? That’s practically affection.”

Minato chuckled softly, watching the exchange unfold with clear amusement. “They’ve known each other for a while” he supplied, and there was a warmth in his voice that made Reika’s chest tighten slightly. “It’s only natural they’d be close.”

Obito huffed, clearly not satisfied with this answer, but finally relented as he grudgingly opened his bento. “Fine. Whatever. But I swear, I’ve never seen him talk to anyone as much as he talks to you. It’s unnatural.”

“I talk,” Kakashi muttered, stabbing a piece of eggplant with his chopsticks.

Obito snorted. “Yeah, to her.”

Rin, amused despite herself, finally spoke up. “It’s nice, though,” she said, glancing between Kakashi and Reika. “That you two have someone like that.”

Something in her tone made Reika pause. There was no hostility in Rin’s voice—just quiet understanding. A kind of acknowledgment that Reika wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Still, she smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, glancing at Kakashi. “It is.”

~

For a while, the group fell into relative peace as they ate. Reika found herself relaxing despite the initial awkwardness, listening as Minato casually asked Rin and Obito how their training was going. She noticed the way Minato naturally balanced his attention between all of them, making sure no one felt left out, even as he occasionally shot small, amused glances in her and Kakashi’s direction.

Reika blinked when she felt something enter her peripheral vision. She glanced to her side to find Kakashi pushing a rice ball toward her.

She blinked. “What?”

Kakashi didn’t look at her, but his tone was matter-of-fact. “You gave me extra food. Take some.”

Reika stared at him, then down at the food he was offering. “I made this food.”

“And?”

“I know how much I made. I made it for you. Once again - so you’d have leftovers, because you survive off of takeout and instant ramen and you need actual food with actual nutrients.”

Kakashi exhaled, finally turning his head to look at her. “And now I’m giving some back to you. Because you need actual food with actual nutrients, too.”

Reika frowned, but before she could argue further, Obito cut in, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Okay, see? This is weird.”

Rin, once again, punched him in the arm.

Obito yelped. “I mean it! Since when does Kakashi share food?! He didn’t even offer me a bite when I forgot my lunch the other day!”

Kakashi, unbothered, simply said, “That sounds like a you problem.”

Minato chuckled behind his chopsticks.

Reika, meanwhile, felt the tips of her ears heat slightly. It wasn’t like Kakashi was doing anything that unusual. He was just… well, he was being a little unusual. For him.

But he was just being nice. Because he wanted to. Because they were friends.

And she’d never been able to say no to him.

She sighed in defeat, picking up a rice ball he had pushed toward her. “Fine.”

Obito watched this exchange with great suspicion.

Rin, however, simply smiled again, this time a little more knowingly. “You two really are close, huh?”

Kakashi tensed beside her. Reika glanced at him, but he said nothing.

Obito groaned. “I still don’t get it!”

Minato, still grinning, finally took pity on his student. “You’ll get used to it, Obito.”

Obito slumped. “I don’t want to get used to it, it’s weird.”

Rin just shook her head, and Reika took another bite, feeling oddly content.

The tension that had been there before wasn’t gone entirely—but it was lighter now. A little more manageable.

~

As the last of the bentos were cleared away, Minato dusted his hands off and smiled at his team. “Alright,” he said lightly, “break’s over. Back to training.”

Obito groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back. “Ugggh, sensei, whyyy? I just ate.”

Kakashi, unimpressed, nudged him in the ribs with his foot. “Then this is the perfect time to practice fighting under pressure.”

Obito glared up at him. “I hope one day you get buried under a mountain of paperwork.”

Minato chuckled, clearly used to their antics, and then turned his gaze to Reika. “Actually,” he said, tilting his head thoughtfully, “since you’re already here, Reika, why don’t you spar with them?”

Reika blinked. “Huh?”

Obito sat up instantly. “Huh?!”

Even Rin looked taken aback. She glanced at Reika, then at Minato, as if uncertain she’d heard correctly.

“Sensei,” she started hesitantly, “I mean, I’m sure Reika-chan’s strong, but… she only just started at the Academy, right?”

Obito nodded furiously in agreement. “Yeah! I mean, no offense, Reika-chan, but are you sure you can keep up with us?”

Minato chuckled before clapping his hands together. “Reika’s more than capable,” he said simply. “And I think this will be a good test for both of you.”

Rin still looked uncertain, but she nodded. “If you say so, sensei.”

Obito, still grumbling under his breath, crossed his arms. “Fine, fine, but if I win, I demand the secret technique you used to befriend Kakashi.”

Reika blinked, amused. “You’re still on about that?”

Minato, smiling slightly, gestured for them all to step onto the training field. “Alright, we’ll do a two-on-one match,” he said, directing his gaze at Reika. “You’ll spar against Rin and Obito together.”

Kakashi, standing off to the side, finally spoke up. “Unfair.”

Minato raised an eyebrow. “For who?”

Kakashi didn’t answer, but the fact that he didn’t specify Reika spoke volumes.

Obito scowled. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me even you think she’s better than me!”

Kakashi simply said, “She is.”

Obito let out an offended gasp. “Traitor!”

Minato sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright, let’s focus. Reika, are you ready?”

Reika rolled her shoulders, then fell into a comfortable stance. “Yep.”

Minato nodded. “Then, begin.”

~

Obito lunged first, as expected. He always led with energy and raw determination rather than strategy, something that made him unpredictable but also easy to read. Reika sidestepped him easily, pivoting on her heel and barely breaking a sweat as he stumbled past her.

“Hey—!” Obito barely had time to recover before Rin moved in. She was more controlled, more precise, and Reika had to respect that. Rin feinted left, but Reika didn’t fall for it, blocking the real strike that came from the right.

Their movements were smooth, measured. It was clear that Rin had better coordination than Obito—she didn’t leave herself open as often. But Reika had sparred with Kakashi for over a year, and Shisui for longer. Rin was fast, but she wasn’t either of them.

Reika ducked under Rin’s next strike and twisted, sweeping Obito’s legs out from under him just as he charged at her again.

“Oh, come on!” Obito yelped as he hit the ground.

Rin immediately adjusted her footing, adapting to the sudden loss of her teammate. She turned swiftly, launching a quick set of shuriken to force Reika back. Reika dodged, but she noticed the movement for what it was—an attempt to buy time for Obito to recover.

Smart.

But Reika wasn’t going to give them that chance.

She moved forward, faster than either of them expected, slipping inside Rin’s guard. She tapped her lightly on the shoulder—an obvious opening—before smoothly disengaging and flipping away.

Rin froze, eyes wide, realizing what had just happened.

Obito, now upright, groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Minato, watching from the sidelines, smiled proudly.

“Alright,” he called out, “that’s enough.”

~

Reika exhaled as she straightened, rolling her shoulders. “That was fun,” she smiled. “I’ve never fought a two-on-one match before.”

Obito, still breathing a little heavily, flopped onto the ground. “For you, maybe,” he muttered. “That was humiliating.”

Rin, surprisingly, laughed. “You did better than I expected,” she admitted, though there was no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounded... impressed.

Reika tilted her head. “Yeah?”

Rin nodded, then smiled at her. “Yeah. You’re really good.”

Reika blinked, taken aback by the genuine praise. But then she smiled back. “So are you.”

Minato clapped his hands together, drawing their attention. “Good work, everyone. That was a great exercise.” He turned to Reika, his blue eyes twinkling with pride. “I’m glad you joined us today.”

Reika flushed slightly at the praise. “Thanks, Tou-san.”

Obito, still sulking, muttered, “I still say this was rigged.”

Kakashi, who had remained silent throughout most of the spar, finally walked past him. “It wasn’t.”

Obito threw a clump of grass at him.

Rin shook her head fondly before looking at Reika again. “You should train with us more often.”

Reika hesitated. She had been so sure she was intruding. That she was making things harder for them, that she was throwing off their dynamic.

But looking at Rin now—really looking at her—Reika realized that wasn’t true.

Rin wanted her here.

Obito, grumbling beside them, probably wanted her here too, even if he’d never admit it.

And Kakashi…

Well. He never would have asked her to stay if he didn’t want her there.

Reika smiled, something light blooming in her chest.

“Maybe,” she said, smiling. 

Obito groaned again. “Great. More competition.”

Reika laughed.

~

The afternoon sun had begun its slow descent, casting golden light across the training grounds as Team Minato wrapped up their sparring session. Reika sat cross-legged in the grass, stretching out her sore muscles while Obito remained sprawled out beside her, arms flung dramatically over his face.

“I don’t know why I even try anymore,” Obito groaned. “First Kakashi, now you? Is the universe just determined to humble me?”

Kakashi sighed, shaking his head as he adjusted the wrappings around his wrist. “You’ve had worse losses.”

Obito shot up, pointing at him. “That’s not the reassurance you think it is, Bakashi!”

Minato chuckled as he approached the group, hands on his hips. “Alright, alright, let’s focus. That was a great sparring match, and I think we all learned something today.”

Obito slumped. “Yeah. I learned I need new training partners.”

Rin patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “You did well, Obito.”

Obito lit up immediately, practically glowing at the praise. “See?! Rin gets it!”

Reika snorted, but before she could say anything, Minato spoke again. “Actually, I think this is a good time to talk about what we really learned from this session.”

Kakashi straightened slightly, listening intently. Rin perked up. Obito groaned but ultimately nodded.

Minato turned to Reika first. “You adapted quickly to their movements, which is what I expected from you, but you also held back.”

Reika blinked. “I—”

Minato smiled knowingly. “You could have pushed harder, but you didn’t.”

She hesitated, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t that she thought Rin and Obito were weak—far from it—but there had been a moment where she had consciously decided to dial it back. She wasn’t here to show off.

“I just didn’t want to ruin the team dynamic,” she admitted.

Minato hummed. “That’s an important instinct to have, but remember—your strength isn’t an intrusion. If you’re holding back because you don’t want to make them feel bad, then you’re not helping them grow.”

Reika felt her stomach twist slightly. She hadn’t thought about it like that.

Minato smiled gently. “If you’re stronger in certain areas, use that strength to push them, not shelter them.”

Rin and Obito exchanged glances, and Reika realized—they weren’t upset. If anything, they seemed... intrigued.

Obito, for all his complaining, grinned at her. “Sensei’s right. If I’m gonna be Hokage one day, I need all the training I can get.”

Rin smiled. “I think training with you would actually help us a lot.”

Minato nodded. “That’s why, starting next week, Reika will be joining you all for sparring sessions when her schedule allows.”

Reika’s head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

Kakashi, surprisingly, said nothing—but he did glance at Minato, his posture a little more alert.

Minato’s smile turned teasing. “Oh? You don’t want to train with your dad’s team?”

Reika scowled. “That’s not—”

“Ohhh, this is great!” Obito clapped his hands together. “That means I’ll have even more chances to win against you!”

Reika blinked. “You’re certainly welcome to try,” she said, bemused.

Kakashi sighed, deadpan. “Name one time you’ve won.”

Obito pouted. “I’m manifesting it!”

Rin giggled again, nodding at Reika. “I think it’ll be fun.”

Reika hesitated for a beat, glancing at Kakashi again. He wasn’t saying anything. But the longer she looked, the more she realized—he didn’t seem opposed to it.

In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed... relieved.

She exhaled, shaking her head before smiling at Minato. “Fine. But if my grades drop, you’re the one explaining that to Kaa-san.”

Minato paled. “Wait, what?”

Chapter Text

Shisui was not prepared for the third dinner.

He thought he was prepared. He had mentally fortified himself against whatever fresh hell Minato and Kushina were going to put him through. He had accepted his fate. He had resigned himself to suffering.

He was wrong. He had been utterly unprepared.

Because halfway through dinner, Minato casually shattered his entire world.

“Reika,” he said, sipping his tea, “you should visit my team again sometime. Kakashi’s been a little down lately.”

Shisui almost choked on his rice.

Wait. What?

Reika, entirely unbothered, hummed thoughtfully. “I can drop by this week.”

Shisui’s entire brain short-circuited.

Next to him, Anko—who had been waiting for him to suffer—perked up in delight.

Minato, still completely unfazed, took another bite of food, like he hadn’t just flipped Shisui’s entire perception of reality upside down. “I think he’d appreciate that. He doesn’t talk about it, but I can tell he misses you. Rin and Obito, too, but mostly Kakashi.”

Misses you. Misses you.

Shisui turned to Reika so fast he almost threw out his neck. “You know Hatake Kakashi?”

Reika blinked at him, unimpressed. “Yeah?”

Shisui reeled. “SINCE WHEN?”

Reika frowned slightly, like he was the unreasonable one. “Since a while?”

Shisui grabbed Anko’s sleeve for support. “You mean to tell me that you—Uzumaki Reika—just casually know Hatake Kakashi and you never mentioned it?!”

Reika shrugged, completely unfazed. “Why would I?”

Shisui seethed. “BECAUSE IT’S KAKASHI! The legend! The prodigy! The guy that everyone in my class grew up hearing about?”

Reika, looking at him like he was the ridiculous one, just said, “He’s just Kakashi.”

Shisui felt his soul leave his body.

Anko, delighted, cackled beside him.

And then—then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse—

Minato sipped his tea and said, “You should bring Shisui along, too. I think Kakashi would enjoy meeting him.”

Shisui stopped breathing.

Anko slammed her fist against the table, howling.

Reika sighed, flicking a grain of rice off her sleeve. “Maybe.”

Shisui wheezed. “Maybe?!”

Reika turned to him, the corners of her lips twitching. “Are you malfunctioning again?”

Shisui grabbed his own head. “YES! I AM MALFUNCTIONING! BECAUSE YOU—YOU’VE BEEN TRAINING WITH OTHER PEOPLE?!”

Reika blinked. “… Yes?”

Shisui pointed an accusatory finger. “WITHOUT ME?!”

Reika tilted her head, clearly not understanding the absolute betrayal she had just confessed to. “You were busy?”

Shisui threw his chopsticks onto the table. “WHEN?! WHEN HAVE I EVER BEEN TOO BUSY FOR YOU?!”

Reika, still completely unbothered, calmly picked up a piece of fish. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Shisui gasped, placing a hand over his heart like she had just stabbed him. “I—I wouldn’t be interested?!”

Reika chewed, watching him struggle for words. “Are you jealous?”

Shisui choked on air.

Anko collapsed onto the floor, screaming with laughter.

Minato, watching with the patient eyes of a man who had seen many ridiculous things in his life, just said, “You’ll be fine.”

Shisui, emotionally wrecked, whispered, “I absolutely will not be fine.”

Reika, finishing her food like she hadn’t just devastated him, sighed. “If you want to come, you can come.”

Shisui snapped upright. “Yes. Obviously.”

Reika nodded, taking another bite. “Alright.”

Shisui squinted. “Wait.”

Reika raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Shisui crossed his arms, still seething. “How did this even happen? Why are you training with Kakashi?”

Reika blinked at him. “Because he needed a training partner.”

Shisui gaped. “HE HAS A TEAM.”

Reika just shrugged. “He hasn’t always had a team. We met while he was still in the Academy.”

Shisui almost fainted.

Kushina, who had been suspiciously quiet the entire time, finally broke and started laughing. “Shisui-kun,” she grinned, “you’re adorable.”

Shisui groaned into his hands.

Anko, still on the floor, was wheezing.

Minato was calmly drinking his tea like this wasn’t the worst betrayal Shisui had ever experienced.

Reika finished her meal, wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin, and turned to Shisui, utterly unbothered.

“You’re being dramatic.”

Shisui let out a long, suffering sigh. “Reika.”

“Yes?”

He pointed at her, accusingly. “Next time you train with anyone, you tell me.”

Reika blinked. “... Will it prevent another meltdown?”

Shisui stared at her. “Yes,” he whispered, completely dead inside. “It absolutely would.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

~

Shisui had not been prepared for this.

He had thought he was prepared. He had mentally fortified himself. He had trained for this moment—or at least, he tried to, which mostly meant pacing in his room at 3 AM whispering, I am not jealous. I am not jealous. I am—

But then Reika actually brought him to meet Hatake Kakashi, and Shisui realized, with absolute horror, that he was wildly unprepared.

Because Kakashi softened when he saw her.

And Shisui did not like that one bit.

~

The moment they arrived, Team Minato greeted Reika like she belonged there.

Rin beamed. “Reika-chan! I was hoping you’d come.”

Obito perked up immediately. “Finally! I’ve gotten so much stronger recently, I can definitely beat you now!”

Minato—Minato, who was supposed to be Shisui’s ally despite his most recent horrendous betrayal—smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you, Reika.”

Reika, entirely unbothered, just nodded. “You too, Tou-san.”

And then, Kakashi finally looked at Reika.

And softened.

Shisui saw it—saw the tension in Kakashi’s shoulders ease, saw the way his normally blank expression melted into something gentler, saw the way his entire presence shifted when he saw her.

And Shisui felt something in his chest ignite.

“Reika,” Kakashi greeted, voice quieter than before, a fraction warmer. “You came.”

Reika, completely oblivious to the absolute war breaking out in Shisui’s soul, just nodded. “Tou-san said you’ve been feeling down.”

Kakashi glanced at Minato—who just smiled innocently—before looking back at Reika. “...  It’s been a long week.”

Reika tilted her head. “You could’ve said something.”

Kakashi blinked. “I—” He hesitated. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Reika frowned at him. And just like that, all of her attention was on him. “Of course it matters.”

Kakashi went completely still. His eyes widened, just a little.

Shisui clenched his jaw.

Obito, clearly confused by whatever was happening, squinted between them. “Okay, uh. What is going on here?”

Rin sighed, patting his shoulder. “Shh. Let them have their moment.”

Their what?!

Shisui turned to Minato for backup.

Minato just smiled like this was deeply amusing for him.

Shisui, seething, completely betrayed, turned back to Reika and Kakashi.

And then—oh, and then—Kakashi did something that made Shisui want to fight him immediately.

He reached out. And fixed a stray piece of Reika’s hair.

Shisui saw red.

Reika, completely unaware, just blinked at him. “What?”

Kakashi withdrew his hand smoothly. “Nothing.”

Shisui inhaled sharply.

Oh , he thought. Oh, you think you can just do that? Just touch her hair like it’s nothing? Just act all casual and soft like you’re not—like you’re not—

Shisui did not finish that thought.

Because he was not jealous.

He was just. Highly aware of how incredibly unnecessary that was.

Kakashi glanced at him then, and there was something in his expression—something knowing, something that made Shisui’s blood boil.

Shisui’s eye twitched.

Rin, still watching, sighed fondly.

Shisui twitched harder.

Anko was going to have a field day with this.

~

Training somehow made it worse.

Reika obviously trained with Kakashi all the time, because they moved like they knew exactly how the other fought. There was no hesitance, no second-guessing, just fluid, precise movement, like they had been training together for years.

Which, apparently, they had.

Shisui had never felt more betrayed.

He was her training partner. He was the one who had been there since the beginning. He was the one who knew how she moved, who could actually keep up with her.

And now—now—he had to watch her effortlessly spar with Hatake Kakashi?!

Absolutely not.

The next time Reika turned to him, smiling, completely unaware of the absolute storm raging inside of him, he just grinned back and said, “Spar with me.”

Reika blinked. “Huh?”

Shisui tilted his head, still smiling. “You’ve been fighting Kakashi all day. Come on.”

Reika, completely oblivious, just nodded. “Okay.”

Kakashi watched from the side.

Shisui didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to.

Because this—this was his fight.

~

They moved fast.

Shisui pushed harder than usual, every attack sharper, every dodge more precise. He had something to prove—to Kakashi, to Reika, to himself.

Reika noticed immediately.

She frowned slightly mid-block, her grip on her kunai tightening. “You’re aggressive today.”

Shisui grinned, breathless. “What, can’t keep up?”

Reika scoffed, and that—that was what he wanted.

Because this was them.

Not Kakashi.

Not Team Minato.

Just them.

~

By the time they finished, both of them were panting, muscles aching, but Reika was smiling at him—really smiling, like she knew exactly what he had just done.

And for the first time since dinner, Shisui felt like he had won something.

Then— then —Kakashi walked over and handed Reika a water bottle.

And Shisui barely resisted the urge to throw a kunai at him.

~

When they finally left, Shisui was feeling a little better.

But then Kakashi—stupid, smug, Hatake Kakashi—looked at him right before they left, tilted his head slightly, and said, “Nice sparring.”

And smirked.

And that’s when Shisui knew. He was going to kill him.

Reika, walking ahead, hummed. “That was fun. We should come back.”

Shisui, still fuming, forced a smile. “Sure.”

He glanced back.

Kakashi was still watching. Still smirking.

Shisui smiled back, sharp as a blade.

Oh, it was on.

~

Shisui trained like a man possessed.

The very next morning, before the sun had even fully risen, he was already at the training grounds, kunai spinning between his fingers, mind locked onto one goal.

If Reika thought Kakashi was her equal—if she had been training with him for over a year—then Shisui was going to surpass him.

And then he was going to rub it in his stupid, smug, masked face.

He spent the entire day running drills, refining his Shunshin until it was flawless, throwing kunai and shuriken so fast the targets barely had time to stop moving before the next one embedded itself. He went through every jutsu he knew, every technique, and then he went through them again, until his chakra reserves were screaming at him.

His father, who had unfortunately decided to check in on him, just sighed from the sidelines. “You know, this is probably unhealthy.”

Shisui didn’t even slow down. “I have never been more motivated in my life.”

Kagami squinted at him. “This isn’t about Reika, is it?”

Shisui snorted. “Of course it’s about Reika.”

Kagami hummed. “So you’re in love with her.”

Shisui miscalculated his next throw, and a kunai whizzed past Kagami’s head.

Kagami didn’t even flinch.

Shisui, recovering immediately, glared. “That’s not the point.”

His father smirked. “Of course not.”

Shisui groaned. “It’s about principle, Tou-san! I have been training with her since we were kids. I have bled for her. I have almost died sparring with her.”

Kagami raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

Shisui ignored that. “And then—then—she tells me she’s been training with Hatake Kakashi this whole time?! And that they’re even?!” He let out a deep breath, spinning on his heel and pointing an accusing finger. “Do you know what that means?!”

Kagami took a sip of tea. “That you need to improve?”

Shisui threw his hands up. “It means she thinks I’m worse than him.”

Kagami hummed. “I mean. She didn’t say that.”

Shisui scowled. “She didn’t have to.”

Kagami, deeply entertained, shrugged. “So what’s your plan, then?”

Shisui grinned, sharp as a blade. “Simple. I get better. I push past my limits, refine my techniques, and then the next time she compares me to Kakashi—” His grin widened. “—I win.”

Kagami sighed, setting down his tea. “You’re ridiculous.”

Shisui just smirked. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Kagami sighed again. “I’m your father. Someone has to be around when you inevitably overexert yourself.”

Shisui rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Please. I thrive under pressure.”

Kagami shook his head. “You really do need therapy.”

Shisui ignored him. He didn’t slow down. He had work to do.

~

Shisui was struggling.

Not physically—no, physically, he was in peak condition, pushing himself harder than ever, refining his techniques, forcing himself to go faster, hit harder, react quicker.

But mentally?

Mentally, he was suffering.

Because Reika had figured him out. And she wasn’t letting it go.

It had started simple enough—her watching him, unimpressed, arms crossed, while he went through his drills. Then the pointed questions, the knowing looks, the little hums of I know what you’re doing, and I know why you’re doing it.

And then, finally, the worst moment of them all.

When she tilted her head, watching him carefully, and said—

“You know I like you just as you are, right?”

Shisui froze. Completely, entirely, stupidly froze.

Reika blinked at him. “You don’t need to be my best match for me to care about you.”

Shisui’s brain shut down. Because what was he even supposed to do with that?!

He just stood there, kunai slack in his grip, staring at her like she had just spoken a completely foreign language.

Reika, as always, was entirely unbothered by the absolute chaos she had just thrown him into. She just looked at him—calm, steady, undeniably sincere—and Shisui had no idea how to handle that.

So, naturally, he panicked.

He laughed, way too loud, way too sharp. “Ha! What—what are you even talking about, Reika? That’s—I mean, obviously. I knew that.”

Reika squinted at him.

Shisui’s laugh died immediately.

Because she was watching him now, gaze slow and careful, like she was seeing way too much.

Shisui cleared his throat, desperate to fix whatever just happened. “I mean—I just like a challenge, you know? Gotta keep things interesting. Gotta stay on my toes. You understand.”

Reika didn’t blink. “I understand that you’re overcompensating.”

Shisui hated this conversation.

He scowled, crossing his arms. “I’m not overcompensating.”

Reika just tilted her head slightly. “Shisui.”

Shisui physically flinched.

Because - oh, no.

She was using that tone. The one that meant she was done playing along, the one that meant she had already figured everything out, and she was waiting for him to admit it.

And Shisui—Shisui couldn’t.

Because—because what if she was wrong?

Or—worse—what if she was right?

Reika sighed, gaze softening just slightly. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

Shisui inhaled sharply.

Reika watched him for another moment, then—without another word—turned away.

Shisui stayed frozen in place.

Because - that was it?

That was it?

She just said that—just dropped that on him like it was nothing—and now she was just leaving?!

Shisui scowled, scrambling for something to say, anything to pull himself out of whatever weird spiral he had just fallen into. “Reika—”

She looked back, waiting.

Shisui opened his mouth.

Paused.

Realized he had no idea what he was about to say.

And—ugh.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, before finally muttering, “That’s not fair.”

Reika blinked. “What isn’t?”

Shisui gestured vaguely. “That.”

Reika just raised an eyebrow. “You want me to stop caring about you?”

Shisui made a frustrated noise, because obviously not, but also what was he supposed to do with this information?!

“I like being your match,” he finally said, scowling. “I like being the one who can keep up with you.”

Reika nodded. “You are.”

Shisui stared at her.

Because—because was that it?!

Reika tilted her head slightly. “Kakashi being strong doesn’t make you weak.”

Shisui scowled. “I know that.”

Reika just hummed. “And you’re still my best friend. I care about you.”

Shisui malfunctioned completely. Because—because what .

“What,” he said out loud, voice blank.

Reika blinked. “What?”

Shisui threw his hands up. “You—you can’t just say things like that!”

Reika frowned. “But it’s true.”

Shisui screamed internally. Because what was he supposed to do now?!

How was he supposed to function when she said things like that so casually—so naturally—like it was obvious?

Shisui inhaled deeply through his nose.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

Fine.

Fine .

He could work with this.

He wasn’t letting Kakashi win. He was still going to prove himself. But—maybe—he could let himself believe her, just a little.

Maybe.

Shisui sighed, dropping his head back with a groan. “You are so unfair.”

Reika just shrugged. “You’re the one who’s making things difficult.”

Shisui squinted at her.

Then, finally, after way too long, he smirked.

“Yeah, well,” he said, flipping a kunai easily in his hand. “You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t difficult.”

Reika hummed. “True.”

Shisui grinned.

Because that—that he could work with.

~

He tried to forget about it. He tried to push it aside. But it just kept haunting him.

Because now—now he was stuck in a loop.

Reika cares about you just as you are.

She doesn’t need you to be the best.

She already likes you.

So why was he still pushing so hard? Why did he feel like he had to prove himself? Why did he need to be her best match?

And then—

Then it hit him.

And he hated himself for not realizing it sooner.

Because it wasn’t about being the best. It wasn’t about keeping up. It wasn’t even about Kakashi.

It was about her.

About what it meant to be the one who could match her. The one she could go all out against. The one who wasn’t just her friend, but her equal in every way.

And the truth—the awful, humiliating truth—was that he had always been trying to prove it.

Not just now. Not just because of Kakashi. Not just because of competition.

But because—deep down—he wanted to be worthy of her.

And Reika—Reika had already decided he was.

That was what had wrecked him. That was what had shaken him. Because she had just given it to him—no challenge, no test, no battle—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like it had never been a question.

Shisui sat down hard in the middle of the training field, staring blankly at nothing.

“… Oh.”

He had been so stupid.

~

When he saw Reika later that day, he didn’t challenge her to a fight.

He didn’t demand a spar. He didn’t try to push himself further. He didn’t throw himself into more training, more work, more proof.

Instead, for the first time in weeks, he just sat next to her.

Reika blinked at him, tilting her head slightly. “No sparring today?”

Shisui sighed, leaning back against the tree. “No sparring today.”

Reika studied him for a moment, like she was waiting for something.

Shisui exhaled. “I get it now.”

Reika blinked again. “Get what?”

Shisui closed his eyes briefly, then smirked just a little.

“That I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

Reika was silent.

Then—

Her expression softened.

And just like before, she said it like it was obvious.

“You never did.”

Shisui inhaled slowly.

And this time, he let himself believe it.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Reika leaned back too, looking toward the sky.

“…You’re still going to train hard, though.”

Shisui laughed, light and real and easy.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Reika huffed, amused.

And for the first time in weeks—

Shisui didn’t feel like he was chasing something.

He just felt right where he belonged.

~

The next sparring session was supposed to be normal.

Shisui had convinced himself that this time—this time—he was going to be fine. No unnecessary dramatics, no ridiculous internal monologues about proving himself. Just a simple, normal spar.

He was lying to himself, obviously.

Because the second he arrived at the training grounds and saw Kakashi already stretching beside Reika, looking all smug and unreadable behind that stupid mask, Shisui immediately wanted to launch himself into the sun.

Reika, as usual, was completely unaware of the war raging in Shisui’s soul. She just stretched her arms above her head, her red hair catching the early morning light, and hummed thoughtfully.

“So,” she said, turning to look at them both. “Are we rotating today, before everyone else gets here, or are we fighting two-on-one?”

Kakashi’s visible eye flicked toward Shisui. He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

Shisui scowled. “Oh, you think I need backup?”

Kakashi blinked. Slowly. Deliberately.

Shisui’s eye twitched. “I’ll fight you both.”

Reika sighed, like she had already expected this. “Shisui—”

“Nope,” Shisui said, cracking his neck. “This is happening. Let’s go.”

Kakashi shrugged, as if to say, ‘Suit yourself.’

Reika, seeing that this was clearly inevitable, just shook her head. “Fine. But don’t whine when you lose.”

Shisui grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

~

It started fast.

Shisui had sparred with Reika countless times. He knew her movements, knew her rhythm, knew the way she adjusted in real-time, countering his speed with terrifying precision.

But Kakashi?

Kakashi fought like a machine. Quick, sharp, methodical. He was the opposite of Shisui’s unpredictability—controlled where Shisui was reckless, calculated where Shisui relied on instinct.

Which meant, in combination with Reika, he was a nightmare.

Shisui barely dodged the first kunai thrown at him before Reika was already closing the distance. He Shunshined back, kicking off a tree trunk to launch himself into the air, only to find Kakashi waiting for him.

Oh, you smug bastard.

Shisui barely twisted in time to avoid the strike aimed at his ribs, landing in a crouch as Kakashi landed opposite him, his hands steady, his posture unshaken.

Reika landed beside him a second later.

Shisui, breathing a little heavier now, wiped the sweat from his forehead and smirked. “Okay, okay. Not bad.”

Reika raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re stalling.”

Shisui grinned. “Me? Stalling? No, I just—”

Kakashi moved.

Shisui barely managed to twist out of the way before a kunai nearly grazed his shoulder.

“Oh, come on!” he yelped, flipping back just in time to avoid Reika’s next strike. “Can I get a warning next time?!”

Kakashi’s eyes curved slightly in amusement. “Why? You were stalling.”

Shisui groaned. “Oh, I hate you.”

Reika tilted her head. “Do you?”

Shisui pointed at her, still dodging. “Reika, you’re not helping.”

Reika just smiled.

Shisui barely had time to process the sheer betrayal before she went for his legs.

~

Shisui didn’t technically lose.

Technically.

He was still standing by the end of it. Breathing hard, panting slightly, but still upright.

Kakashi and Reika, meanwhile, looked perfectly fine.

Shisui groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the grass. “I hate you both.”

Reika nudged his side with her foot. “You lasted longer than last time.”

Shisui scowled up at her. “Oh, thanks, that makes me feel so much better.”

Kakashi, still entirely too smug, just sat beside them, rolling his shoulders. “You’re getting better.”

Shisui blinked. Paused.

Then narrowed his eyes. “Wait, was that a compliment?”

Kakashi tilted his head. “Mm.”

Shisui sat up immediately, grinning. “Oh, oh, this is good. I need that in writing.”

Kakashi sighed.

Reika, shaking her head, dropped down beside them, pulling out a water bottle. “You’re ridiculous.”

Shisui grinned. “And yet, you both love me.”

Kakashi hummed noncommittally. Reika took a sip of water.

Shisui gasped. “Reika. Reika, that was your chance to confirm it.”

Reika side-eyed him. “You know I love you.”

Shisui blinked. Processed that.

Then—

He collapsed dramatically onto the grass again, flinging an arm over his face. “I am never recovering from this.”

Reika hummed, entirely unimpressed. “Good.”

Kakashi chuckled.

And for once—Shisui didn’t even mind losing.

Too much.

Chapter Text

Then 

Kakashi regretted many things in life.

The decision to get out of bed in the morning was one of them.

He was still half-asleep when he felt something—no, someone—climbing onto him. Small hands, tiny fingers, grabbing at his blanket, his shirt, his hair—

Kakashi groaned, shoving his face deeper into his pillow.

"Naruto," he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep, "I swear, if you're waking me up before sunrise again—"

"It's already morning!" Naruto said, far too bright for this ungodly hour.

Kakashi cracked one eye open.

It was still dark outside. 

Before he could process this injustice, the sheer betrayal of it all, Naruto beamed down at him, completely undeterred. "Aneki says the sun's gonna rise soon!"

Kakashi let out a long, suffering sigh. "Then wake me when it does."

And then he attempted to roll over and reclaim unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, Naruto had other plans.

Reika appeared in the doorway, looking far too awake for Kakashi's liking, two cups of tea in her hands.

"Come on, Kakashi," she said, sipping from one of them. "You're the only one still in bed."

Kakashi made a vague noise into his pillow that was probably some variation of And I will stay here forever, thank you very much.

Reika walked over, crouched beside the bed, and set the second cup of tea on the bedside table.

"Naruto, you know what to do," she said.

Naruto grinned.

Kakashi had precisely half a second to realize what was happening before Naruto launched himself onto his back with all the force of a six-year-old determined to wake up his pseudo-older-brother-slash-dad.

"Agh—Naruto—" Kakashi groaned as the child wiggled his way onto his shoulders like an overly enthusiastic summon.

"You're up now!" Naruto declared, victorious. "Come on, it's time for breakfast!"

Kakashi peeled open his eye again, squinting at Reika, who looked utterly pleased with herself.

"Traitor," he muttered.

Reika just took a slow sip of her tea. "I made pancakes."

Kakashi paused.

Naruto leaned down, stage-whispering in his ear, "With extra fruit."

Kakashi sighed. Deeply.

"You win this round," he said, shoving the blanket off of himself and reaching for his tea.

Naruto cheered.

Reika smirked.

And Kakashi—grumbling all the while—was successfully dragged into yet another morning with his far too cheerful family. But - honestly - deep, deep down - he didn’t mind. 

~

Kakashi was convinced that Reika had a vendetta against coffee.

She insisted on tea. All the time. Every morning. Every evening.

Kakashi had long since resigned himself to it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

So, one morning, he decided to conduct an experiment.

He made coffee.

The very instant he took a sip, Reika emerged from the kitchen, arms crossed.

"Kakashi."

He looked up, all false innocence. "Yes?"

Reika narrowed her eyes. "What's in your cup?"

Kakashi took another slow, deliberate sip.

Naruto, sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal, gasped. "Kashi-nii, you betrayed Aneki!"

Reika let out a long, disappointed sigh. "I can't believe this."

Kakashi, who definitely had not anticipated this level of dramatic judgment, blinked. "It's just coffee."

"Just coffee?" Reika echoed, eyes narrowing. "In this household?"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware this home had a tea clause."

"It was implied," Reika said, taking his cup and replacing it with a steaming mug of tea.

Kakashi stared at it. Then at her. Then back at it.

Naruto giggled. Kakashi sighed.

"... You win this round."

Reika smiled victoriously, reclaiming her seat.

Kakashi muttered under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Naruto grinned. "You got tea-d !"

Reika high-fived him.

Kakashi, regretting all of his life choices, resigned himself to another tea-filled morning.

~

Kakashi was half-asleep on the couch, Naruto curled up on his chest like a contented kitten. The rain outside was a steady rhythm against the window, filling the house with a gentle hum.

Reika sat cross-legged on the floor beside them, reading a book, occasionally reaching out to run her fingers through Naruto's hair.

The silence was soft.

Kakashi stirred slightly, cracking an eye open. "Mmm. ‘s quiet."

Reika hummed. "It's raining. Perfect napping weather."

Naruto mumbled something incoherent, burrowing further into Kakashi's chest.

Kakashi exhaled, letting his eye slip shut again. "Mm. This is nice."

Reika glanced at him, smiling faintly.

"Yeah," she murmured. "It is."

And for the rest of the afternoon, they stayed like that—wrapped in the warmth of quiet, of home, of each other.

Because, really—

They had nowhere else they'd rather be.

~

"Naruto, stop—wait, don’t—!"

Too late. The bowl tipped.

Flour exploded in the air, covering Reika, Naruto, and the entire kitchen counter in a fine, white powder.

Naruto coughed. "Oops."

Reika exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter to calm herself. "I told you to pour slowly."

Naruto grinned sheepishly. "I was testing gravity!"

From the corner of the kitchen, Kakashi—who had been smart enough to stay at a safe distance—made a quiet noise of amusement. "Gravity is undefeated."

Reika shot him a glare. "You could be helping."

Kakashi waved lazily. "I'm the supervisor."

Reika turned to Naruto. "Pass me the eggs."

Naruto scrambled to grab them but—crack. One slipped from his grasp and hit the floor. The yolk oozed out in slow-motion.

Naruto cringed. "Uhh…"

Kakashi sighed dramatically, stepping forward. "At this rate, we should just eat takeout."

Reika turned on him immediately. "Absolutely not. This is a bonding experience."

"A bonding experience with food poisoning?"

She ignored him. "Naruto, grab a towel."

Naruto bolted for the cabinets, grabbing one (that was definitely too nice to be used for cleaning up egg). Reika took it from him with a sigh before crouching down to wipe the mess.

Kakashi knelt beside her, leaning in just enough to murmur, "You’re cute when you're determined."

Reika huffed. "You’re cute when you help."

Kakashi gave her an amused look. Then, in a completely unexpected move, he reached out and swiped a finger along her cheek—where a bit of flour had stuck—and tapped it against her nose.

Reika stared at him.

Naruto cackled.

"You're dead," Reika said flatly.

Kakashi smirked behind his mask. "I'd like to see you try."

Naruto cheered, "GET HIM, ANEKI!"

Reika lunged.

Naruto screamed with laughter as flour somehow ended up everywhere, and Kakashi—damn him—still managed to look effortlessly cool despite being tackled by a woman covered in batter.

At the end of it, the kitchen was a disaster.

And dinner?

They ordered takeout.

~

The living room had become a battlefield.

Furniture had been pushed aside, cushions stacked against the walls for safety. Naruto crouched low, his tiny fists clenched with determination, his blond hair wild and spiky. Across from him, Kakashi stood lazily, hands in his pockets, eye half-lidded in an almost bored expression.

Reika, perched comfortably on the couch, watched the scene unfold with a knowing smirk.

"This is your last chance to surrender, Kashi-nii!" Naruto declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Kakashi sighed, tilting his head. "Oh no," he drawled. "Whatever shall I do against the great Uzumaki Naruto?"

Naruto scowled. "You're not taking me seriously!"

Kakashi blinked, perfectly deadpan. "Of course I am. Look how terrified I am."

Naruto growled and charged.

Kakashi sidestepped effortlessly, watching with an almost amused air as Naruto flailed, nearly toppling over.

"You’re gonna have to do better than that," Kakashi teased.

Naruto gritted his teeth, thinking hard. Then—

"LOOK, A DISTRACTION!" he shouted, pointing wildly at the ceiling.

Kakashi, to his credit, actually glanced up—just for a fraction of a second.

It was all Naruto needed.

With an excited battle cry, Naruto lunged, tackling Kakashi around the waist with all the strength his little body could muster.

"Oof—!"

Kakashi stumbled—stumbled, not fell—and pretended to struggle against the sheer force of Naruto’s "attack."

Reika bit back a laugh as Kakashi wobbled, arms flailing dramatically.

"Oh no," he said flatly. "He's too strong."

Naruto grinned victoriously. "HAH! YOU CAN’T ESCAPE NOW!"

With all his might, Naruto pushed.

Kakashi made an exaggerated gasp, flopping backward onto the floor with a loud thud. His arms spread out, his mask slightly crooked. He made a show of twitching dramatically.

"I’ve been… defeated," he croaked.

Naruto let out a whoop, standing on Kakashi’s stomach, hands on his hips.

"I AM THE STRONGEST NINJA IN THE WORLD!" he declared.

Reika finally let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Wow, you’re really milking this, aren’t you?" she teased Kakashi.

Kakashi peeked at her from the floor, his eye filled with absolute betrayal. "I suffer while you just watch?"

Reika smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Well, it’s entertaining."

Naruto puffed up with pride. "I beat Kashi-nii fair and square!"

Kakashi made a thoughtful noise before suddenly—lightning fast—his hands shot out, grabbing Naruto’s sides.

Naruto had exactly one second to realize his mistake.

"Wait, NO—"

Attack .

Kakashi's fingers dug in, tickling mercilessly, and Naruto let out a high-pitched scream, kicking and flailing wildly.

"K-KASHI-NII, YOU’RE CHEATING—HAHAHAH STOP—!!"

Reika laughed as Naruto desperately tried to escape the onslaught.

"You wanted to be the strongest," Kakashi teased, grinning under his mask. "And yet, you left yourself wide open!"

Naruto gasped between wheezes, trying to scramble away, but Kakashi easily hauled him up, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

"I'VE BEEN BETRAYED!" Naruto wailed dramatically.

Reika chuckled, shaking her head.

Kakashi turned toward her, holding Naruto effortlessly. "Do I win now?"

Naruto whined, "Aneki, help me!"

Reika crossed her arms, smirking. "No way. You dug your own grave, sweetheart."

Naruto gasped, offended.

"A FAMILY OF TRAITORS!"

Kakashi sighed, pretending to be solemn. "So sad. The strongest ninja in the world—defeated by tickles. Tragic, really."

Naruto groaned loudly. "I’m never gonna live this down."

Kakashi chuckled, setting him down. "Probably not."

Naruto pouted. Then—suddenly—he smirked.

"Hey, Aneki," Naruto said sweetly.

Reika narrowed her eyes. "... What?"

Naruto turned to Kakashi.

"You should tickle her next."

Reika shot up immediately. "Oh, absolutely not—"

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, cracking his knuckles. "An interesting idea."

Reika backed away slowly. "Kakashi. Kakashi, don’t you dare—"

Kakashi lunged.

Reika screeched as she was tackled into the couch, betrayed by the very man she loved.

Naruto, watching with the biggest grin on his face, declared victory.

This was the best day ever.

~

Kakashi had been through war.

He had fought in battles where every second was life or death, where hesitation meant losing a comrade, where he had to make impossible decisions in the blink of an eye.

None of that had prepared him for this.

"Naruto, stop running around," Reika called out, exasperated as she knelt by the door, adjusting the straps on his tiny backpack.

Naruto, buzzing with excitement, completely ignored her. "Aneki, I’m gonna be the best ninja ever!" He swung his arms in exaggerated punches, nearly knocking over Kakashi’s cup of tea in the process. "Sensei’s gonna say I’m a prodigy, just like you two! Right, Kashi-nii?"

Kakashi, still leaning against the wall with his tea that he had barely managed to save, took a slow sip before sighing. "Maa, you might want to actually attend class before making any big declarations."

Naruto gasped, clutching his heart like Kakashi had personally attacked him. "Kashi-nii, you have so little faith in me!"

Reika snorted, grabbing Naruto’s arm before he could dramatically collapse onto the floor. "Come here. Stand still."

Naruto obeyed, bouncing on his feet as she adjusted the straps again, tightening them so he wouldn't lose his backpack halfway through the day.

Kakashi watched, arms crossed, and took another sip of tea. "You look like a mom," he muttered under his breath.

Reika elbowed him without looking up. "I do not ," she shot back, tightening the last strap and sitting back on her heels. "There, all set."

Naruto beamed. "Do I look like a real ninja?"

Reika softened, brushing his hair back. "You look perfect."

Naruto turned to Kakashi, waiting for his approval.

Kakashi tilted his head, studying him. Then, with a slow nod, he said, "Your backpack is crooked."

Naruto screamed.

"TRAITOR!"

Reika laughed, tugging the straps playfully to get them even. "There. All fixed."

Naruto grumbled under his breath, but the frustration barely lasted a second before his excitement took over again.

"I’m so ready," he declared. "We should go now! What if I miss something?"

Kakashi sighed dramatically. "Naruto, it’s a school. I promise it’ll still be there when you arrive."

But Naruto was already tugging on Reika’s hand. "Come on!"

Reika smiled, giving Kakashi a look. "You deal with him, I’ll lock up."

Kakashi groaned as Naruto latched onto his arm next, trying to physically drag him out of the house. "Why am I the one getting roped into this?"

Naruto grinned up at him. "Because you love me!"

Kakashi stared down at him.

Then he sighed. "Unfortunately."

Reika snickered. "Come on, let’s go."

And with that, they left—Naruto practically vibrating with excitement, Reika adjusting his uniform every five seconds, and Kakashi trailing behind, mentally preparing himself for whatever chaos awaited them.

~

The streets of Konoha were already bustling by the time they stepped outside, the morning air crisp and full of energy. Other parents were walking their children to the Academy, but Naruto—Naruto was marching, shoulders back, head high, radiating confidence.

Reika, walking beside him, kept shooting him amused glances. "Naruto, you know this is day one, right? You don’t have to act like you’re already Hokage."

Naruto gasped. "But I will be Hokage!" He turned, gripping Kakashi’s sleeve dramatically. "Kashi-nii, tell her!"

Kakashi yawned. "Mmm. Let’s see how your first test goes before making any big claims."

Naruto gasped again. "You guys are so mean to me."

Reika snorted. "You love it."

Naruto grumbled but didn’t argue.

Kakashi, watching the two of them bicker like usual, allowed himself a small, unseen smile beneath his mask. This was nice. Too loud, too early, but nice.

They walked together, past familiar shops, past the training grounds where Naruto often tried (and failed) to copy Kakashi’s jutsu, past the Hokage Monument where Naruto had once declared he’d definitely have his face up there one day.

And then, finally—

The Academy came into view.

Naruto froze.

Reika and Kakashi both paused, exchanging a glance.

Naruto, for the first time since waking up, was silent.

"... Naruto?" Reika asked gently.

Naruto’s hands clenched at his sides. His excitement had been so loud before, but now—now he just stood there, looking up at the school.

Reika immediately crouched down beside him. "Hey. What’s wrong?"

Naruto swallowed, looking anywhere but at her. "... What if I mess up?"

Kakashi blinked.

Reika’s expression softened. "Oh, sweetheart." She reached for him, cupping his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. "You won’t mess up."

"But what if I do?" Naruto said quickly, voice small. "What if I—what if I suck at it? What if no one likes me? What if I—"

Kakashi, moving on instinct, ruffled Naruto’s hair.

Naruto blinked up at him in surprise.

Kakashi sighed, crouching down as well. "Listen, kid," he said, eye crinkling slightly, "you’re already the loudest person I’ve ever met. I guarantee no one is going to forget you."

Naruto’s nose scrunched. "Hey—"

"And if you mess up," Reika continued, poking his forehead gently, "you’ll try again. That’s all. No one gets everything right the first time."

Naruto still looked uncertain. "But—"

Kakashi rolled his eyes, reaching out to tap the tip of Naruto’s nose. "You’re gonna be a ninja, aren’t you? And what do ninjas do?"

Naruto hesitated.

Then—slowly, carefully—he whispered, "We don’t give up."

Reika smiled, squeezing his shoulders. "Exactly."

Naruto looked between them—Kakashi’s steady gaze, Reika’s warm smile—and, finally, nodded.

Then—he grinned. "Okay!"

And just like that, the worry was gone.

Reika exhaled, standing back up. "Alright. Ready?"

Naruto took a deep breath. Then, with all the confidence he had definitely just regained, he sprinted toward the Academy doors.

"BYE, ANEKI! BYE, KASHI-NII!"

Kakashi blinked. "... We didn’t even get to walk him in."

Reika sighed, shaking her head. "Of course not."

They both stood there for a moment, watching as Naruto crashed into the building at full speed.

Reika huffed a laugh. "I give him five minutes before he does something ridiculous."

Kakashi smirked. "Three."

She rolled her eyes. "You’re supposed to bet in his favor, you know."

Kakashi hummed. "That was in his favor."

Reika groaned, but there was no real annoyance in it.

They lingered just a little longer, watching as the other students filtered inside.

"... He’s gonna do fine," Kakashi murmured.

Reika smiled. "Of course he is."

And with that, they turned back toward home—ready to pick him up after class, ready for whatever stories he’d come home with, ready for the next step in Naruto’s journey.

Because no matter what—

He’d never be doing it alone.

~

Naruto loved the Academy.

He had declared it with absolute certainty on the first day when he came home beaming, dirt on his cheek and a scrape on his knee from definitely not tripping over his own feet.

"Kashi-nii, Aneki, it's the best place ever!"

Reika, setting down dinner, had smiled knowingly. "Good first day?"

Naruto had nodded so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. "Yeah! We learned about the Hokage today, and we got to practice shuriken throws, and I sat next to Sasuke, and I’m gonna be the best student ever—"

Kakashi hummed from his spot on the couch. "Maa, are you sure about that? Because I saw your face when I asked if you finished your kanji homework."

Naruto froze.

Reika raised an eyebrow. "Naruto."

Naruto immediately turned in his seat and booked it toward his room. "I—I’ll do it now!"

Reika sighed.

Kakashi snorted.

And that was how Naruto’s Academy days started.

~

Naruto loved the Academy—except when it came to theory.

A week into classes, he came home devastated, throwing himself dramatically onto the floor.

"I failed my first test," he moaned, as if the entire world had ended.

Kakashi, who had just sat down with his tea, blinked. "Ah."

Reika, sitting beside him, immediately set down her book. "Oh, sweetheart. What happened?"

Naruto flailed. "It was the history test! I knew all the Hokage names, but then Iruka-sensei asked for dates and eras and policies and—" He groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "I forgot all of them!"

Kakashi, deadpan, took another sip of tea. "I feel like it would’ve helped if you had actually studied."

Naruto turned betrayed eyes on him. "I did!"

Reika sighed. "Naruto. We caught you drawing frogs all over your notes."

Naruto groaned louder, muffling his face into the rug. "But studying is so boring! I remember things way better when I do them!"

Reika exchanged a glance with Kakashi, her brow furrowed. Then—her face lit up.

"Alright," she said. "New study method."

Naruto peeked out from the rug. "Huh?"

Kakashi exhaled, already suspecting where this was going. "Should I be worried?"

Reika ignored him, standing and stretching. "Come on, Naruto. If you remember better when you do things—then let’s do them."

Naruto blinked. "… You mean like ninja training?"

Reika grinned. "Kinda."

Kakashi, watching from the couch, sighed. "This is going to be a disaster."

It was, a little.

Reika had Naruto running around the backyard - they’d moved into a house recently - acting out history lessons. She had him reenact famous Hokage speeches, physically chart out village expansions with little stone markers, and—when it came time to explain policies—she made him argue with Kakashi about why each one existed.

By the end of the night, Naruto was sweaty, covered in dirt, and exhausted.

But when they tested him again—

He remembered everything.

~

Naruto had many complaints about the Academy.

History? Boring. Kanji? The worst.

But sparring?

Best thing ever.

So when the first official sparring lesson happened, Naruto was so sure he’d win.

Then Sasuke wiped the floor with him.

Naruto came home that evening, covered in dirt, a bandaid on his cheek, looking like the physical embodiment of persistence.

Reika took one look at him and sighed. "Let me guess. Sasuke?"

Naruto stomped dramatically into the kitchen. "He’s so annoying!" He dropped onto a chair, throwing his arms over the back. "He’s all ‘I don’t care about this class’ and ‘hn’ and then BAM! He wins every match!"

Kakashi hummed from the couch, not looking up from his book. "Maa, maa. Sounds frustrating."

"It is!" Naruto huffed. "But next time, I’m gonna win for sure!"

Reika placed a cup of water in front of him and ruffled his hair. "You sure? Or are you just gonna throw yourself at him again and hope he falls over?"

Naruto gasped. "Aneki!"

Kakashi chuckled. "She’s got a point."

Naruto crossed his arms, pouting. "He’s fast. And weirdly good at dodging. I get close, and then—bam! I’m in the dirt."

Reika hummed. "So don’t let him dodge."

Naruto blinked. "… Huh?"

Kakashi smirked. "She’s telling you to think about how to fight, not just throw yourself in and hope something works."

Naruto grumbled. "I do think."

Reika gave him a flat look.

Naruto hesitated. "… Sometimes."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let’s go outside."

Naruto blinked. "Wait. Right now?"

Kakashi sighed, standing up as well. "Might as well. I was getting bored anyway."

And just like that, Naruto found himself back in the backyard, running through drills, learning how to think while fighting.

The next time he sparred Sasuke—

He still lost.

But this time, it wasn’t so one-sided.

And that really pissed Sasuke off.

Naruto loved it.

~

"Why are you here?"

Kakashi, standing lazily beside Reika, blinked at Iruka. "Hmm?"

Iruka crossed his arms. "You never show up to Parent Day. I was fully expecting Reika to be alone."

Reika snorted, adjusting her coat. "I bullied him into coming."

Naruto, standing beside them, huffed. "Yeah, but Kashi-nii also didn’t wanna hear me complain if he didn’t show up."

Kakashi made a vague gesture. "Self-preservation."

Iruka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re impossible."

Then—before Iruka could recover—Sasuke walked past, took one look at Kakashi and Reika, and froze.

Naruto beamed. "Oh yeah! Kashi-nii, Aneki, this is Sasuke—"

"I know who he is," Kakashi said.

“Mm,” Reika agreed. 

Sasuke squinted. "… You’re Hatake Kakashi? The Copy-nin?" He turned to Reika, squinting harder. “And you’re Uzumaki Reika. The Crimson Phantom.”

Kakashi smiled behind his mask. "Heard of us?"

Sasuke’s eye twitched.

Naruto, completely oblivious, grinned. "Kashi-nii, Aneki, I told him I was gonna be better than you two one day!"

Kakashi ruffled his hair. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

Reika elbowed him. “Don’t listen to him. You can absolutely do it, Naruto.”

Sasuke glared.

Naruto, noticing the look, smirked. "Oh? What’s wrong, Sasuke? Intimidated?"

Sasuke turned, muttering something about "ridiculous dobe teachers."

Kakashi, watching him leave, hummed. "I like that kid."

Reika sighed. "You just like annoying him."

Kakashi shrugged. "Same thing."

Naruto cackled.

And that was how Kakashi and Reika won Parent Day—by simply existing and making Naruto’s day in the process.

~

Almost two years after they’d told each other they loved each other, Reika didn’t think much about holding hands anymore. Kakashi had relaxed, had stopped hesitating, and they’d settled into a rhythm. It was quiet, soft, and gentle, the way everything with him was. He still touched her like she was something precious, but he also touched her like she was something he wanted, something his. Something he had finally allowed himself to have.

Holding hands, for them, was now normal. Comfortable. Natural, even, considering they loved each other.

Unfortunately… Naruto strongly disagreed.

They were just walking through the village when Naruto, who had just finished at the Academy for the day, spotted them. And froze in absolute horror. 

Reika and Kakashi did not immediately acknowledge him. 

Which meant Naruto had to take drastic action. He ran straight up to them, dramatically skidding to a stop, and pointed violently at their interlocked hands.

“WHAT. IS. THAT?!”

Reika blinked. “Our hands?”

Naruto waved his arms aggressively. “WHY ARE THEY TOGETHER?!”

Kakashi hummed. “Because we’re together?” 

“YOU NEVER HOLD HANDS AT HOME.”

Reika smirked. “Because we know you’d throw a fit.”

Naruto gasped. “YOU’RE DOING THIS TO SPITE ME.”

Kakashi sighed, entirely too smug. “Now, Naruto, that’s a bit dramatic.”

Naruto whined aggressively. “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS.”

Sasuke, who had been watching from a safe distance, walked past without stopping.

“You deserve this,” he muttered as he passed.

Naruto clutched his heart.

“I HAVE NO ALLIES.”

Reika patted his head. “You’ll live.”

Naruto stomped off toward Ichiraku’s, muttering about betrayal the entire time.

And Reika?

Reika squeezed Kakashi’s hand tighter.

Because, honestly?

That was too easy.

~

“You know,” Reika hummed afterwards, “I knew Naruto would be upset, but - that was almost beautiful.” 

Kakashi gave her a look, something sly and knowing in his eyes. She’d never seen him look that way before, and her heart did a little dance at the sight. “You want to make it worse?”

Reika laughed, a little breathless at the way he looked at her. “Oh, Kakashi, you know me so well.”

~

Reika had never known Kakashi could be this fun. She’d never expected him to be - he’d always been so calm, so unflappable, the unbreakable Copy-nin who reacted to everything with either indifference or vague exasperation. But maybe she should’ve known better - the man read Icha Icha in public. He either loved messing with people, was absolutely shameless, or both. 

It was both. Definitely both. Now that they were secure enough in their relationship to be affectionate in public, they decided to weaponize it. Mostly against Naruto, because his reactions were just too hilarious - but why leave out the entire rest of the village? There wasn’t any reason not to, so they didn’t. If Naruto really, truly minded - he’d tell them. And they’d stop, of course. But until then - why not have a little fun with it?

Just for fun. Just because they could. 

~

The scoreboard stood tall in the living room, a testament to Kakashi and Reika’s ongoing battle against the world (but mostly Naruto). It had appeared there one day, not long after Naruto’s First Hand-Holding Meltdown, as Reika liked to call it. Because just because it had been the first did not mean it would be the only time - they’d make sure of that. 

It’d been Reika’s idea, but Kakashi had contributed to the point system. They’d made it together. Really, it’d been a team effort.

At the top, in bold, slightly smudged letters, it read:

Kakashi & Reika vs. The World

Below it, the point system was meticulously laid out:

• 1 point – Every time someone gagged at them.
• 2 points – Every time someone made a disgusted comment.
• 3 points – Every time someone walked out of the room because of them.
• 5 points - Every time Naruto tried to move out.
• Bonus 2x Multiplier – If it was Naruto 
• Extra 2x Multiplier – If Sasuke happened to walk by and told Naruto, “You deserve this.”

Naruto tried to destroy the board the moment he saw it. He failed - Reika had added some sealwork to the wood, as they’d anticipated his retaliation. Kakashi added an extra tally just to spite him. Naruto, fearful of giving them any more points, never tried again.

Tonight, they were going to break records.

~

It started small.

A gentle touch here, a lingering glance there. Just enough to set Naruto on edge as he sat across from them at Ichiraku’s, already suspicious.

Then Kakashi fed Reika a piece of tempura.

Naruto made eye contact with it. His soul left his body. He gagged. 

1 point.

Kakashi barely held back his smirk. “Something wrong?”

“You guys are disgusting,” Naruto muttered, shoving food into his mouth as if it would erase what he just saw.

2 points.

Reika, all innocent amusement, turned to Kakashi. “Should we be worse?”

Kakashi hummed, resting his chin in his palm. “I do like winning.”

Naruto squinted. He knew. He knew this was a setup.

But before he could react, Kakashi leaned in and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Reika’s ear.

Naruto’s eye twitched.

Reika giggled.

He stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. “NOPE. NOPE. I’M DONE.”

He stormed out.

3 points. Bonus multiplier, because Naruto.

The ultimate jackpot came when Sasuke, passing by without stopping, glanced at Naruto’s retreating form and casually muttered, “You deserve this.”

Extra multiplier activated.

Reika turned to Kakashi, delighted. “That’s a solid twenty points in under five minutes.”

Kakashi leaned back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased. “New record.”

And across the village, Naruto, somewhere in the distance, let out a dramatic “WHY?!” that only made it sweeter.

Reika smirked, “Think we can make it worse?”

Kakashi sighed dramatically, “It’s our duty.”

~

The Cult of the Great Bowl (or: that time Kakashi and Reika founded a ramen-based religion)

Naruto was seven when they decided to deepen his torment. Not by weaponizing their relationship against him - not that they didn’t still do that, but they wanted to escalate his suffering. For training purposes, of course. Because the future Hokage should be able to endure mild-to-moderate emotional torment, perhaps even severe, and it was best to begin that at a young age. At least, that was what they snickered to themselves. 

In reality, it was because they could. And they were unstoppable together. So they did. Because Naruto still hadn’t told them to seriously stop.

For ninety-eight days, Kakashi and Reika committed to the greatest con of their lives.

It started with one harmless lie.

~

Day 1

Reika sat beside Naruto at the dinner table, stirring her miso ramen thoughtfully. “You know, Naruto,” she said, voice just serious enough to be believable, “there’s an ancient legend about ramen.”

Naruto, age seven, impressionable and devoted to ramen, perked up immediately. “What kind of legend?”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, slurping a noodle. “About the Great Bowl in the Sky.”

Naruto gasped. “The what?”

Reika nodded solemnly. “The Great Bowl. It’s where all ramen comes from.”

Naruto’s eyes widened, his tiny hands gripping his chopsticks like they held divine truth.

“... Go on.”

~

Day 7

Naruto had questions.

“So… what happens when someone doesn’t finish their ramen?” he asked over breakfast.

Kakashi sighed dramatically. “Naruto, that’s a serious offense.”

Reika nodded, her expression grave. “It’s called Wasted Noodle Syndrome.”

Naruto gasped. “WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM?”

Kakashi leaned in, voice low, mysterious. “They don’t get extra toppings for a whole week.”