Ship: Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Slice of Life – Angst – Dark / One-shot

Rating: +16

Summary: Today was the big day. Or rather, the first in a long line of them. The big day that would turn Obito’s life upside down.

For the better.

Enjoy!

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“Stop moving!” she snapped.

“But it’s pulling!”

“Don’t you dare start whingeing, or I’ll have to redo all your make-up!”

Sulking, the young woman tried to pout and cross her arms, but her cousins weren’t having any of it and got back to their arduous task: making her look presentable.

It had to be said that today was no ordinary day! The clan was buzzing with nervous energy – though an outsider would have been unable to tell – and was checking every detail with eagle eyes.

And Obito was one of those details.

Which was why she’d been dragged out of her futon at dawn and her cousins were fussing over her, taking care to smooth out every last imperfection.

She was fully aware of the scars she’d collected throughout her career as a kunoichi, of her hair full of cowlicks and the sallow hue of her skin, so far removed from the alabaster complexion of the clan members. Not that anyone here had the slightest doubt about her possible kinship, ever since she had awakened their dōjutsu, and even less so since she had raised it to the next level.

Naori arrived just then, as excited as the other young women frolicking around Obito.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed.

But the hostess couldn’t tell what she was talking about, for Hikari was glaring at her through the mirror, daring her not to move a muscle.

And with the combs and brushes she held in her hands, she could be just as deadly as with her favourite weapons – a fact of which they were both perfectly aware.

Tired from her short night’s sleep – she too was nervous – numb from sitting motionless for hours, and frustrated at not being told something as simple as why her cousins were at her house?, she whinged again:

“It’s pulling.”

“We’re going to need more extensions,” muttered her hairdresser.

She signalled to Izanami to bring some.

“What a daft idea to have your hair so short,” she sighed. “Perhaps we should just go for a wig instead?”

“My hair’s fine just as it is!” snapped Obito.

She’d decided not to let it grow any longer following yet another accident during her Katon training. In any case, the strands were too often singed to be able to reach past her ears, which reinforced her decision.

That was years ago, but she’d never seen the point in wearing it long, unlike the other clan members.

Needless to say, it wasn’t the first time she’d had to put up with that sort of comment.

“Too late for a wig,” grumbled a cousin. “Do the best you can; we’ll make do with that.”

She didn’t seem to like that, grumbling as she tamed a stray strand, but she was far from the only one, whilst the object of her attention pulled a hideous face.

“Pardon me?!”

But she was just as ignored as she had been during her previous attempts, the swarm chatting amongst themselves, making her feel practically like a piece of furniture.

Izanami hurried over with the accessories she’d been asked for earlier, which seemed to soothe Hikari’s mood somewhat, and together they set about taming the unruly locks.

Obito could only watch their actions from her reflection, but it was covered before they were finished, drawing a cry of surprise mixed with frustration from her.

“Hey!”

“It’s bad luck,” Izumi replied knowingly.

“Nonsense,” she grumbled.

But she kept her eyes downcast and didn’t try to argue.

Anyway, she’d already lost, and had been for a while.

“Done!” exclaimed her cousins, behind her.

At the signal, all the young women present rushed forward, whilst the kunoichi was forced to turn towards her audience, who quickly expressed their delight.

“What do you think?” Izanami asked cheekily.

Judging by her attitude, one might have thought she’d taken charge of the whole process, but no one was fooled.

“I’d love to see that,” grumbled Obito.

But none of her cousins pretended to have heard him and instead urged her to stand up, which she did hesitantly, due to her numb legs but also the suspicious weight on her head.

“What are you…” she began, in an angry tone.

But she was quickly cut off as she was dragged over to Naori, allowing her – at last – to discover what she had brought and what had caused such a commotion.

It was a splendid and luxurious tomesode and its accessories.

She recognised it as the furisode she had worn ever since she was old enough to attend the various ceremonies. In the clan’s characteristic dark blue, the silk was embroidered with a multitude of colourful flowers and butterflies. And the inevitable kamon on its back.

She had inherited it from her mother, who had made it for her, and her grandmother had taken over after her death; it would be no exaggeration to say that this kimono was undoubtedly the piece closest to her heart.

“The sleeves,” she finally stammered. “Why… the sleeves?”

“Oh no! No tears!” Karuo snapped fiercely.

“It’s tradition,” sniffed a cousin. “You’re not a little girl anymore, so you don’t have to wear a furisode any more.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve put them aside for you!” Naori promised. “You’re supposed to use them to make a garment for your first child!”

Against her will, Obito blushed at the mention and discreetly placed a hand on her stomach.

A child… That’s true…

But she didn’t have time to dwell on it any further, as she was urged to take off her current outfit and put on her much-missed furisode.

So she went from having her hair and make-up done to being a doll to be dressed.

What a promotion!

And once again, she was ignored, each girl assigned to her tasks without her being able to discuss it further, handled in every direction and always without care.

And always kept in the dark about her appearance.

She had to endure all this and not even know the result, all for some stupid superstition?

Just finish her off. Quickly.

She couldn’t even sort things out a bit, for the sake of comfort, because she was immediately scolded and rapped on the knuckles.

“But it’s just Kashi,” she finally complained.

The army of dark stares directed at her made her flinch and step back slightly under their intensity.

What hadn’t she said yet?

‘Just Kashi’ had just arrived, dressed formally and accompanied by his father.

He wasn’t quite sure what annoyed him more: his father’s good humour or the discomfort of his stiff clothes.

But he understood the importance of both.

Of course, it was important to dress appropriately for the occasion; the Uchiha might see a lack of care for one’s appearance as a sign of disrespect.

And, naturally, his father, having grown up in an extended family, on top of his love for him, could only be beaming at the current situation.

The guards at the entrance to the compound greeted them before asking them to wait whilst two uniformed police officers came to escort them to the clan chief’s house.

Naturally, they were on display, and all four took the longest route, allowing the entire clan to spy on them more or less discreetly as they made their way.

Their keen Hatake hearing enabled father and son to pick up on the gossip, whether it concerned the iro-montsuki-bakama emblazoned with the younger man’s five clan kamon or the object of his affection…

Sakumo placed a hand on his heir’s shoulder in response to the sniggers.

Obito had never been particularly well-liked within her clan. In response, she had taken great pleasure in cultivating an appearance and behaviour that pushed the boundaries.

She got on their nerves, but broke no laws or rules. She had become the queen of passive-aggression, down to the smallest detail.

The awakening of her Sharingan had attracted attention, but her transition to the Mangekyō had inspired imitators.

The pressure on her shoulders had shifted, and the nightmare had begun.

From being unwanted, she had become desirable.

Only her young age had saved her from an immediate marriage, but that had done nothing to curb the unwanted attention, the contracts where her opinion wasn’t sought, or the plans of certain ambitious cousins.

Several times, she had sought refuge with her teammates, for a night, a day, an hour, fearing for her life at worst.

That was all it took to awaken the wolf.

Were the Uchiha said to be obsessive in love? The Hatake, on the other hand, were possessive. And it was only thanks to her father that he did not go on to commit a massacre of that clan.

Instead, Kakashi had immersed himself in every scroll concerning their respective clans in order to devise the perfect plan.

And, when he was satisfied with it, he burst into an internal council meeting and claimed ownership of his teammate, as was his right.

After all, he had been the cause of both awakenings of her dōjutsu and she had been ready to cede ownership to him, whilst they believed the mission to be critical.

Faced with his arguments, faced with their own laws, the elders had no choice but to yield and accept.

Then, Kakashi went to ask his friend to marry him, explaining the ins and outs to her.

She had cried a great deal.

Rin – with whom she had taken refuge – had screamed even louder than she had and threatened him with the worst possible reprisals before he finally managed to confess his feelings, albeit clumsily.

But it wasn’t a gilded cage he was offering her. It was freedom, a sham marriage in which she could live as she pleased, without the slightest pressure.

Like a true Hatake by blood.

She didn’t even have to love him.

He just wanted to see her smile again, like the cheeky, tactless little girl she used to be.

Fugaku greeted them outside his house, as stiff and impassive as ever, whilst Mikoto smiled gently at them.

He had confided his true motives to her so that she could help him persuade her husband from the inside.

It had paid off.

After the customary greetings, they went inside and the engagement ceremony could begin.

It was deadly boring.

Fortunately, it fell to Sakumo, in his capacity as clan chief and father, to deliver the ritual words and establish the betrothal.

But it would be his turn on the day when his children…

He almost jumped when he realised the direction his thoughts had taken, but couldn’t hide his blush as he bowed his head, staring at his hands resting on his knees, trying to regain control of himself before his father sniffed out – literally – the reason for his agitation.

Fortunately, everyone’s attention was seized by the finest of distractions.

Sakumo pinched his son’s thigh through the thick taffeta so that he too might admire the object of everyone’s attention.

And what a sight…

Obito had been brought here, escorted by her grandmother who guided her through the clan members to the zabuton beside Kakashi, where she sat in seiza with rare elegance.

It was at that moment that he tore himself away from his dreamy contemplation and observed the other Uchihas with a watchful eye; they seemed just as transfixed as he was by their cousin’s immaculate appearance.

In spite of himself, a possessive growl rumbled in his chest and escaped his throat as he glared at them.

His father made no attempt to calm him or stop him, having shared his view from the start.

Obito had been a charming little girl whom he’d had the pleasure of getting to know through his son.

He’d invited his teammates over on numerous occasions – and their sensei – whether to a restaurant or to the house, to eat or stay the night, bringing laughter and life back into the family home.

But Obito had stood out from Rin with an exuberant personality that was the polar opposite of his son’s, reminding him of his late wife’s fiery temperament and their early years as genin spent bickering like cats and dogs – or rather, like dogs and wolves.

So, the first time he’d opened the door to the teenager with tear-stained cheeks, trembling with fear, he’d felt his instincts awaken as never before.

Had there not been more pressing matters at hand – reassuring her, keeping her warm, shaking the Yondaime – there is no doubt he would have razed the Uchiha compound to the ground.

But his role was to ensure the safety and comfort of his pack members, long before going to war, even on their behalf.

When he noticed the same attitude in his son, he stopped him, reasoning with him in the same way he had done for himself.

But he had also been very proud of it.

His little one would become a good clan leader in his turn.

When he had confided his plan to him, he had insisted that Kakashi lay his heart bare, to be sure of his true intentions, that he might not do worse by trying to do better.

And here they were now, under the Uchiha roof, flanked by his son in his finest iro-montsuki-bakama, admiring his future daughter-in-law, whose raw diamond of a beauty had been revealed by a touch of make-up to the eyes of clan members a little too steeped in their own inbreeding.

Sakumo gave her a peaceful smile when their eyes met, to which she replied with a gentle smile.

The poor girl was obviously consumed by anxiety, as much by the situation itself as by the possibility that everything might fail and her future be snatched away from her.

But that was to misunderstand both his child and him.

What if, in the end, Fugaku refused and called off the engagement?

Neither Kakashi nor he would be daunted by the idea of deserting, let alone committing a bloodline theft against Obito, just to take her away from her clan and give her the life she dreamed of.

As such, the ceremony was more a matter of formality.

Of course, the marriage contracts were now finalised, but each clan had provided the other with a standard copy beforehand, so there were no surprises and both leaders already knew which points they would be debating.

“The cubs will be Hatakes; your clan will have no claim on them!” roared Sakumo.

The term was far from pleasing to everyone, but that was how the Hatake members expressed themselves.

Fugaku, for his part, winced at the rebuff.

“Obito has…”

“The Mangekyō, I’m aware of that,” he cut him off. “But not Kakashi. There’s no proof their children will inherit it, and even if they do, their mother will be able to teach them.”

The woman in question grimaced in turn, as much at the mention of potential offspring – could they just drop the subject of her ovaries, please? – as at the argument itself.

In the ranks, an anonymous Uchiha sneered at the fact that this girl knew nothing of her heritage, causing her to clench her fists.

She had indeed been denied the knowledge associated with the Sharingan, both before and after she acquired it. Before, because the clan believed that a worthless person like her would never develop it; after…

In the hope of forcing her to comply with the plans they had for her.

She hadn’t hidden this from Sakumo and Kakashi, the latter hastening to carry out extensive research to make up for her lack of knowledge.

And, frankly, he could take the credit for the praise she’d been receiving since his initiative; she didn’t mind!

They might have thought they had good arguments, but Sakumo had expected as much. And he had tradition on his side.

“We’ve never seen the wife’s clan raise the heirs of another clan,” he snorted disdainfully. “Unless that’s common among the Uchiha? In that case, I look forward to welcoming Itachi and Sasuke in the years to come.”

The mere suggestion seemed to rile the elders and just about every important male present, much to the amusement of the last two Hatakes, who made no effort to hide their identical mocking smiles.

How dare they claim Obito as one of their own when they had never treated her as such?

That her Kekkai Genkai was treated like a commodity, again, was rather common, alas, but that didn’t make this ceremony any less dehumanising.

They couldn’t care less about the young kunoichi; all they were interested in were her eyes! And, at a pinch, her womb.

Kakashi must have been thinking along the same lines, for another menacing growl escaped him.

But Sakumo didn’t have time to react; his future daughter-in-law beat him to it, grabbing his hand without looking and intertwining their fingers.

Whether this gesture had calmed him or whether it was embarrassment that had cut short his tirade, it didn’t matter.

He would have plenty of time to take it out on the Uchihas once the marriage was settled. In the meantime, this would be his father’s battlefield.

Obito had been staring intently at the back of the room ever since she’d sat down.

She was so busy scrutinising the wall that her eyes were stinging from not blinking enough. But it meant she didn’t have to listen (too much) to the snide remarks of those she believed to be her family.

Despite what she herself had told Kakashi and her father, she still had hope; she still wanted to believe in their good intentions towards her, but the rare moments when her concentration wavered were like another stab in the heart.

When she had taken her future fiancé’s hand, it was as much to curb his homicidal impulses as it was for her own sake.

From that dry, weathered hand, she drew comfort and strength – enough to stop herself from bursting into tears or invoking Kamui and slaughtering all those self-righteous people.

Instead, she focused on the wall, her breathing, or the warm skin against her own. And, if that wasn’t enough, she reminded herself of the plan they’d made. The life they had promised her.

Her hairstyle weighed her down. Her make-up itched. Her tomesode suffocated her.

She just wanted it all to be over. Finalised. Signed. Approved.

And then, as tradition dictated, she would spend the coming year with the Hatake clan, and then the wedding would take place.

A jolt snapped her out of her spiral of despair, bringing her back to reality.

She didn’t blush under Fugaku’s furious gaze – he was always like that anyway – and instead turned to Sakumo, who gave her another of his gentle smiles.

“The Hatake clan and family are delighted to welcome you, Obito-chan,” he declared.

Her heart pounding wildly, she looked questioningly at Kakashi, but he wore the same expression as his father – which made her heart skip a beat this time – so she fixed her gaze on Fugaku, who sighed.

“The contracts have been signed,” he repeated. “And I advise you to pay more attention in future, if you want this alliance to last.”

She barely flinched at the dig, unlike the two wolves, who bared their fangs.

“Why bother?” she retorted instead. “My fiancé is a genius; he’ll do the work for both of us.”

The man in question rolled his eyes at this mockery, ignoring the blush the compliment had caused him.

“Don’t you dare expect to be able to rely on me, you dunce.”

Dramatically, she crossed her arms and turned up her nose, exaggerating her sulky pout.

A new wave of anxiety gripped the young adults as they stood up, holding hands, and waved to the crowd.

Sakumo’s ecstatic expression contrasted with the sombre faces of the Uchihas, so they decided to focus on him to ease their growing anxiety, and even more so when he opened his arms to them and they rushed into them, disregarding protocol and the offended exclamations of their audience.

Obito felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders and chest, and tears welled up in her eyes as she buried her face in the luxurious silk.

When she pulled back and noticed the rice powder and mascara on the haori, her face twisted into a horrified expression as she began to realise what she had just done, and all the anxiety and nervousness of recent days finally began to overwhelm her.

But she didn’t have time to drown in it before her (future) father-in-law cupped her face and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, his expression unchanged.

“I, I’m sorry,” she stammered.

“Clothes can be washed,” he brushed it off. “Shall we go?”

He brushed aside a few strands of hair that had miraculously escaped Hikari’s barrage of pins and straightened her collar, then turned to Kakashi, who received the same treatment.

“There you go, you look stunning. Ready for your first outing as an engaged couple?”

The couple blushed in unison and looked away, but they clasped hands anyway, through the sleeves of their respective kimonos, and followed Sakumo outside, paying no heed to the Uchiha fans watching them pass.

Outside, the sun greeted them, making them squint, dazzling them, but not as much as the norimono waiting for them, surrounded by an ever-growing crowd.

“Dad?”

In spite of himself, his voice rose to a high pitch in surprise. Beside him, Obito couldn’t even manage to utter a single sound, her mouth agape.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to make my daughter-in-law walk all the way home, did you?” the man in question feigned offence. “Or were you planning to carry her there?”

Finding nothing to say in reply, Kakashi audibly shut his mouth.

The trio approached the richly decorated palanquin, ignoring the onlookers who were either dumbfounded or green with envy.

As heir to the clan, Kakashi was an attractive prospect for anyone who did not dream of luxury and opulence but rather of a simple, domestic life.

It was obvious that the question of offspring would be on the table, the Hatake clan being on the verge of decline, but there was no evidence of a need for a vast number.

After all, Kakashi was an only child and Sakumo, a widower, had not sought to remarry or adopt.

Rumours about their fortune were always a subject of debate, especially given their simple lifestyle and the small house in which they lived.

But that would be to forget that they were two elite shinobi, capable of undertaking risky and highly paid missions, or the clan’s dormant inheritance.

Obito had practically no dowry. It was up to the clan to provide one for her, and, given the reluctance on their part, they had refused to part with a single ryō for the transaction, hoping that Sakumo would give up on the matter.

She offered only remote and unprofitable farmland, along with her parents’ meagre inheritance – a pittance, in short.

Nevertheless, what the elders had failed to realise was that Hatake father and son couldn’t care less. The marriage proposal was not out of self-interest.

It was out of love.

And, as Sakumo helped his (future) daughter-in-law climb into the norimono, he smiled, hearing the cries of jealousy from housewives and other marriageable girls.

He was proud of the man his son had become, and even more so that he had fallen in love rather than marrying a woman drawn to their fame or material wealth.

He had been blessed with a beautiful relationship with his late wife, and that was all he wished for their child.

He stepped down from the palanquin and took his place amongst the bearers, giving the signal.

Behind him, he heard a surprised cheer. Obito had no doubt just recognised his fellow labourers, who were none other than his former pupils and members of their families.

They had all turned up, much to his delight!

Although the ceremony itself was reserved for the heads of families, clans and the immediate family of the bride and groom, Sakumo fully intended to show the whole of Konoha his son’s future wife!

And if, to do so, the heads of the Akimichi, Nara, Yamanaka, Izunuka and Aburame clans had to carry a norimono covered in gold leaf and red veils, he would not hesitate.

His late wife had refused it at the time, and had had no need of it.

However, for Obito, it was necessary to proclaim to anyone who would listen (and to the rest) that she was now under the protection of the Hatake clan.

And the elders knew all too well how sharp their fangs were and how keen their claws…

Quickly, a crowd gathered around the bearers, to watch the spectacle, to congratulate the newly engaged couple and wish them all the happiness in the world for their future married life.

They were followed through the streets, with people singing or shouting their good wishes, which seemed to please the couple.

He couldn’t really look at her in that position, so he contented himself with quick glances over his shoulder, amid the teasing of his neighbours who affectionately called him a doting dad.

But how beautiful his princess was!

Her tomesode was magnificent, demonstrating the love her mother and grandmother had for her, and showing her off to her best advantage. The combs and pins in her hair gave her a regal air; her hairstyle emphasised the delicate beauty of her face, which the make-up merely brought out.

Embarrassed at first, she had quickly responded to the calls and well-wishes, nearly overturning the palanquin in her excitement, which Kakashi managed to prevent by grabbing her by the collar of her dress to make them sit back down before whispering a few words in her ear.

So she contented herself with smiling and making calmer gestures with her hand, under her fiancé’s eagle-like gaze.

He, too, was very handsome. But he was her son, so Sakumo was biased!

He had asked her for the iro-montsuki-bakama that he himself had worn in the same situation, decades earlier, saying it would bring him good luck.

Dressed in forest-green taffeta and an off-white hakama – the clan’s traditional colours – along with the five kamon and his pure white himo, Kakashi had the bearing of a prince despite his ever-present mask, which he had refused to remove for the occasion.

They were a magnificent couple, and he was a delighted father. So, if setting the record straight for a bitter and greedy clan meant reminding them of the Hatake clan’s powerful alliances – enough to command leaders as formidable as Shikaku and Inoichi, to name but a few – carrying the norimono of two young adults as mere servants, he had not hesitated for a moment.

When they finally reached the enclosure, a veritable procession had followed them and was beginning to disperse amid bursts of laughter; whilst they could at last come to a halt, Sakumo rushed to lend a hand to his daughter-in-law so that she might dismount safely.

“May I cry foul over favouritism?”

The quip drew only an amused smile.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” Sakumo feigned.

He gave Obito a wink, eliciting a giggle from her that she hid behind her fan, whilst Kakashi rolled his eyes; his sigh failed to conceal his smile.

It was at that moment that the clan leaders joined them to offer their congratulations in turn, as was the custom.

“Welcome to the family, kid!” Tsume greeted her with a slap on the back that nearly knocked her over.

“Those dogs, no finesse at all,” Kakashi snorted.

“Want to have a go, little cousin?” the Izunuka called out.

They probably would have done so if Sakumo hadn’t put a stop to it.

It was time for Obito to enter the house as a future member of the family.

So they left, not without several invitations to celebrate later over a drink.

Or several.

The house was small, rustic and simple.

Now, Obito stared at the door anxiously, a lump in her throat, paralysed by the mere thought of this seemingly trivial gesture.

She’d done it a hundred times before, but this was different. The gesture had a different meaning, a different weight.

Behind her, she could feel their combined attention on her, but she knew they would let her take as long as she needed, even if it took a week!

For the moment she stepped through the front door, this year – a short year, a long year – would truly begin, during which she would learn to become a Hatake wife.

But, above all, the time she had left as Uchiha would dwindle with each passing day.

“Obito,” said Sakumo, stepping forward.

He squeezed her shoulder again with his large hand.

“You’ll always be an Uchiha. It’s just a name.”

Suddenly feeling intimidated, she gave him a hesitant smile, finally turned the handle, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

And nothing happened.

No lightning struck her, the roof didn’t collapse on her, she wasn’t swallowed up by a sudden surge of lava…

Just Kakashi and Sakumo taking off their zōri and slipping into their slippers.

“Obito-chan, for now I only have your usual slippers, but they’ll soon be replaced by an official pair, all right?”

Her (future) father-in-law’s constant, gentle care moved her more than she felt able to express, so she simply nodded and swapped her zōri in turn, appreciating their ordinary comfort.

With a little effort, she could – almost – believe this was just another day like any other, where she’d come to pester her best friend and tear him away from his intellectual reading.

But she opened her eyes again and had to take their hands once more to manage to walk on without stumbling.

“Those bitches tied the obi too tight,” she whispered. “No idea how I’ve managed since this morning!”

With small steps, they made their way towards the back of the house, passing through the doors she knew so well.

Anxiety crept back in despite herself; the worst rumours came to mind, filled with horrific tales where young brides ended up defiled in the worst possible ways.

True, she’d known them since childhood, but she’d been unaware of Kakashi’s feelings until he’d confessed them!

Sensing her anxiety, Sakumo squeezed her hand once, drawing her attention.

“Customs vary with the times and families, so I don’t know how things are done in the Uchiha household,” he began. “But you are here as my son’s fiancée, and I want you to be treated as such.”

They stopped in front of a closed door.

“No matter how your feelings may evolve over the coming year or in the years to come, I want you to have your own space.”

He took a small key from his netsuke and handed it to her.

“Here is your room. You may use it as you see fit, and no one may enter without your permission.”

She grabbed the object before suddenly clutching it with both hands, sobs escaping her as she doubled over in a hasty bow of thanks she couldn’t bring herself to voice.

“Come in,” Kakashi encouraged her. “Your things are already here.”

And it was true.

Her room had been recreated exactly as the one she’d just left. And they weren’t replicas; they really were her own furniture!

Obito collapsed onto her unfolded futon, her hand brushing against a patch sewn on years earlier.

“Of course, you can buy as much furniture as you need to furnish it,” Sakumo continued. Like new bedding, a wardrobe… Don’t hesitate!

Nothing was too good for his daughter-in-law. He fully intended to spoil her rotten!

She nodded, beginning to feel dizzy and exhausted.

It had been a long day; she’d eaten little, and her emotions were on a roller-coaster ride a bit too often for her liking.

She needed a little time to herself right now.

Seeming to have guessed as much, the two Hatakes nodded from the doorway.

Sakumo left them, announcing that he would cook after changing, leaving them alone.

Kakashi hadn’t taken his eyes off her, seeming to pierce her with his grey eyes.

He slowly raised his hands to his ever-present mask… and lowered it, revealing an affectionate smile. For her. And a mole.

“Welcome to the family, Obito,” he said.

Then he closed the door and walked away, leaving her to rest.