Ship: : Sukea | Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha

Genres: Slice of Life – Romance – Humor / One-shot

Rating: +16

Summary: Obito had simply intended to hang around at the festival, as he did every year, whilst keeping a casual eye on Team 7, of whom he is the sensei. But this bloke clearly looked a bit dodgy…

Enjoy!

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The winter festivals were the most beautiful, in Obito’s opinion.

Of course, Konoha had a real sense of celebration and not a single street or shop had been overlooked when the decorations were put up, but the Uchiha had a clear preference for the winter festivals.

He didn’t know if it was due to the simplicity of the decorations, the ceremonial kimonos which were more refined than the yukata, or even the excitement of the children.

Or was it all of that, combined with the privilege of not suffering from the cold, thanks to his clan.

(The Uchiha were systematically excluded from missions to Suna, to avoid the risk of hypothermia.)

It didn’t matter.

For the moment, the jōnin was weaving his way through the crowd, trying to spot the three genin in his charge, whilst trying to avoid his friends.

It wasn’t out of malice; he adored them. But it seemed they’d all got it into their heads to stuff him with dango. And, much as he loved them, he was only human and couldn’t eat twenty of them without ending up sick.

Oh shit, wasn’t that Gai, over there?

Alas, the only way to escape him would inevitably draw attention to himself, so Obito gritted his teeth, hunched his shoulders and cursed his tall stature for making him so easy to spot in the crowd.

But, fortunately for him and the ears of everyone within earshot, the green he’d spotted wasn’t his colleague’s favourite outfit, but a civilian’s coat.

Under normal circumstances, he would have simply sighed with relief and moved on, such as to track down the three poisons of his existence, but he didn’t even try.

Instead, he stared at the stranger, his brain working overtime, as he had the feeling he’d seen him somewhere before.

Of course, as a shinobi, it was vague; they tended to travel a great deal and come across a multitude of faces! But then again, for those features to intrigue him so much, it meant his subconscious had an urgent message to convey.

And then again, as a shinobi…

Deciding to take the bull by the horns, Obito left the stall where he had been sitting to address this stranger.

After all, it was better to have him in front of him than behind him, wasn’t it?

“Hi! Is this your first time?”

The start of surprise seemed exaggerated to him, but the blush, now, was clearly natural, just like the troubled expression.

The awkwardness of his greeting hit him like a ton of bricks and he blushed in turn, regretting his decision.

Why was he never sent on diplomatic missions, again?

Ah, yes, that’s right…

“First time you’ve visited Konoha,” he tried to clarify.

He got a grimace this time; was that an improvement?

“Is it that obvious?”

The stranger was practically as tall as him, almost as broad beneath his large coat; he hadn’t expected his voice to be so soft.

But, come to think of it, it actually suited the bloke and the aura he gave off. He was more lamb than wolf. Either he really was an ordinary civilian who hadn’t the faintest idea how suspicious he looked, or he was the most hopeless shinobi when it came to infiltration.

They had exchanged only a few words, and Obito was already unconsciously reaching for the kunai in his sleeve.

No one their age could be that nice and harmless, unless they were mentally ill.

But despite all his doubts, he remained nothing but professional and kept the same affable expression, whilst his counterpart buried his nose in his scarf, looking intimidated.

“As a local, it’s easy to tell the newcomers from the regulars,” he said with a shrug. “And only tourists would fail to wear a kimono at a festival.”

Far from taking offence, the man laughed cheerfully in response.

“I give in, you’ve guessed right! I hadn’t planned on the festival and there were no rentals left.”

He sighed dramatically, palms raised to the sky, allowing him to catch sight of the camera, which made him flinch.

Obito hadn’t been as discreet as he’d thought – or the bloke was really observant – because he held the camera up in front of him, still smiling gently.

“I’m a freelance reporter,” he explained. “I’m always on the lookout for a good scoop, whether it’s in photos or in writing!”

For a moment, Uchiha relaxed, thinking that might be the reason for his hunch. Perhaps he’d spotted him in the magazines his clan, Rin, Minato-sensei… were reading.

Come to think of it, did Kakashi read anything other than his smut fiction and mission scrolls?

But it still seemed suspicious, despite everything.

“And so, you chose Konoha.”

“Let’s just say my feet led me there. I travel from east to west, with no clear direction.”

“Oh, and what about north and south?”

The made-up eyelid seemed to twitch, but perhaps it was just the light.

“How amusing! I was asked exactly the same question just a moment ago! A blond boy…”

He gestured to his approximate height with his free hand and Obito felt himself blushing again. Okay, it was an original way of telling him he was asking questions as daft as Naruto’s.

He turned his head away, scratching his cheek with his finger.

“Anything else, shinobi-san?”

“I’m not—”

But he fell silent at the amused smile.

Great, even though he was in plain clothes, it seemed he’d unwittingly given himself away…

“Right, okay, I’m busted,” he muttered.

When he looked at his again, his face seemed to glow like the sun, simply because of his gentle smile and soothing aura.

Until then, he’d found it suspicious, but now he was beginning to find it rather pleasant. It was surely just a façade, but he was willing to believe it.

“It seems I’ve caught your attention,” the civilian continued. “I hope I haven’t ruined your evening!”

In spite of himself, Obito shrugged, looking unconcerned.

“Not at all. It’s also our job to make sure newcomers feel at home in Konoha.”

“But the question hasn’t been asked, shinobi-san.”

This time, despite the sunny demeanour, he could clearly make out the underlying mockery.

With anyone else, he would no doubt have lost his temper, perhaps even come to blows, yet not here. Not with him. Instead, he felt sheepish.

“Are… are you enjoying the festival?” he stammered.

“I don’t know…” teased the stranger. “Everything was going rather well, before a strange shinobi started asking me loads of questions. It’s quite a blow to my self-esteem.”

His playful smile suited his face perfectly, especially that mole…

“How can I make it up to you?”

Obito gave up; he felt truly pathetic for practically demanding answers from a tourist, just for a few stupid assumptions!

Now he’d have to grovel to make amends, so that this mishap didn’t reach the ears of his former sensei!

“Well, I don’t know…”

Despite his thick clothes, his wrists and hands were delicate; as he tapped his chin with his index finger, feigning thoughtfulness, his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“The compensation should match the offence!”

He was clearly enjoying himself, the purple marks on his cheeks creasing beneath his mischievous smile.

“Spit it out,” the jōnin urged impatiently, looking gloomy.

Was he going to be fleeced of all his money? Have to make a fool of himself in front of the whole village? Take on a bet worthy of Gai’s?

The beaming smile he received got on his nerves.

“You’re going to keep me company until the end of the festival!” declared the civilian.

Not expecting this, Obito stared at him for a long moment, blinking, his mind blank.

Huh?

Without waiting for him to recover, the reporter slipped up alongside him, grabbed his left arm and gave him an innocent smile.

“Shall we go?”

Approaching a shinobi and latching onto him without warning could lead to… disastrous consequences. But apart from freezing to the spot, Obito didn’t feel threatened.

As if… he recognised him?

Pushing that thought aside, he set about guiding his unwitting charge through the crowd.

“There’s a lot of people,” remarked the civilian. “Is it always like this?”

“I think it’s rather quiet, compared to usual.”

“Really?”

That innocent look would be his undoing.

“Yes. Usually, the Will of Fire Festival draws practically the whole country! To the point where civilians stay in the streets and the shinobi on the rooftops. But the night is still young and it’s only just beginning.”

Their breath rose in clouds of mist as they spoke. The reporter recounted other events he’d witnessed throughout his career.

“Seriously? Artichoke throwing and periwinkle spitting?”

“They’re two different championships, but yes. It’s great fun to watch.”

“I suppose so,” he snorted.

Every now and then, he scanned the crowd for the trio of brats he was in charge of, but he hadn’t spotted them yet.

“Any trouble, shinobi-san?

“Uchiha Obito,” he finally corrected. “I had a meeting with my students, but I can’t seem to find them.”

“Oh, you’re jōnin-sensei!” exclaimed the civilian. “You can call me Sukea, by the way.”

The name meant nothing to him, but he was a bit busy at the moment.

Admittedly, he’d arrived late at the meeting point – as usual – which they’d made perfectly clear to him – as usual – and they’d immediately scattered amongst the colourful kimonos without listening to him – as usual – but that wasn’t a reason to avoid him until now… well, until they decided to reappear.

“I’m going to end up getting offended,” Sukea giggled.

He was still holding his arm, though Obito was beginning to wonder if it was really just to stop his getting lost in the crowd.

“It’s my job to keep an eye on my genin,” he replied, frowning.

“And I bet you have a very high success rate.”

He gave him a casual tap on the arm, which had the opposite effect to what he’d intended.

But it was at that very moment that the three little devils emerged from around the corner and spotted him, rushing towards him whilst trying not to trip over their setta, which they had left lying right in front of him. All three were scruffy, dishevelled, with flushed cheeks, and wore a mischievous expression that sent a cold sweat down his back.

“Obito-sensei!” they exclaimed in unison.

“Oh, Sage, do I need to hide a body?” he asked, defeated.

Honestly, how had Minato-sensei done it? Despite the context of the war and Kakashi’s blockhead of a face, he’d made it seem like teaching was… easy.

It must have been some stroke of genius.

Although, on reflection, he wouldn’t entrust a cactus to Kakashi, prodigy that he is, so children…

Far from taking offence, the three genin were practically hopping on the spot, clearly brimming with an energy their elder envied.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked them, just for the sake of it.

From their jumbled replies, he gathered that they’d been round all the attractions, bumped into their old classmates, and played a few pranks on people they didn’t recognise.

The usual, then.

In spite of himself, Obito couldn’t help but groan in despair at the thought of the inevitable reprimand awaiting him at the end of the festival, from the Hokage.

“May Amaterasu have mercy on me… or on you.”

After rubbing his face with his free hand, he glared at the three little rascals until they realised the mood had changed.

“You three. Behave yourselves for the three days of the festival or I swear I’ll use you as targets.”

His effect was shattered by his neighbour – whom he’d forgotten.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, all cheerful. “Are you taking part in the contest?”

For some unknown reason, Obito suddenly felt the urge to show off, straightening up and adopting a nonchalant air before replying, but Sasuke interrupted him without a second thought.

“No, Cousin Obito was banned from it after setting fire to a whole block three years ago.”

It wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, but was it his fault that security measures had been so lax? Three-quarters of the participants were from his clan, and Katon was their default chakra type!

“A whole block,” repeated the reporter. “That’s impressive!”

He turned a beaming look towards him, which made him want to squirm this time.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he replied before trailing off. Er, I mean, I lost control and…”

Clearly, no answer seemed quite right, and he began to fidget under the combined gaze of the children and the civilian. And other curious passers-by.

Sukea stifled a slight chuckle behind his hand and gave up. Never mind, sometimes it was better to keep quiet.

“Who’s that?” Naruto asked abruptly. “Your boyfriend?”

The two adults stiffened at the question, exchanging a hesitant sideways glance.

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re holding hands. My parents always do that,” Sakura informed them.

Her rosy cheeks were clearly due to something other than their previous run, now.

Naruto let out one of his signature shouts, barely interrupted by Sasuke’s declaration:

“Impossible.”

“Why’s that? My parents do it all the time!”

“Cousin Obito’s with Kakashi,” he brushed it off with a shrug.

Ignored by the genin, who were suddenly very busy debating the matter, the two adults reacted differently.

Already, the man in question had taken on the colour of a Sharingan, on the verge of radiating heat, whilst his neighbour raised his free hand to his face, amused by the situation.

Leaning towards the jōnin, he felt like playing with him. Just a little more.

“Kakashi?” he repeated. “I didn’t think you were the type to play both sides, shinobi-san.”

The implication – the implications – made Obito want even more to burrow underground and never come out again.

Definitely, life on the surface was very overrated.

“There’s nothing between Kakashi and me,” he managed to stammer. “I don’t know what made them think otherwise.”

Except that they’d heard him, of course, and hadn’t taken kindly to the insinuation.

“We’re not liars!” Naruto exclaimed.

Bloody hell, did that brat’s volume always have to be this high? How could he hope to be a shinobi when he was incapable of whispering?

“It’s true!” Sakura chimed in. “You’re together all the time!”

“You don’t even need to speak,” added Sasuke. “You’re always staring into each other’s eyes!”

Ouch, this time the little brat had hit on something embarrassing. For families bearing dōjutsu, it was a very significant gesture.

“Trivial details,” he grumbled.

“Rin always says you’re going to get married!”

“Yes, that’s right! Mum and Dad too!”

“Big brother already told me he didn’t know which side he’d have to sit on for the ceremony!”

Obito hadn’t activated his Sharingan, yet he felt as though his eyes were beginning to spin with growing embarrassment.

Would anyone really hold it against him if he drowned the son of the Yondaime and the Kyūbi’s jinchūriki, the son of the Uchiha clan leader and a civilian girl?

He let out an awkward croak that no one noticed.

“So, you and Kakashi?” Sukea asked him. “Have you known each other for a long time?”

“I said there was nothing…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

It didn’t matter that they’d only just met; Obito was perfectly capable of deciphering the mocking expression in those grey-green eyes.

“Forever,” he grumbled in reply. “But don’t listen to them. We were both on the same team, that’s all.”

“Isn’t that the start of an Icha-Icha volume?”

“I don’t know, I don’t read that… stuff.”

But Kakashi does. He’d know the answer.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Sukea tapped his arm again, wearing that same tender smile.

“Now that you’ve found your genin – and we’ve clarified your relationship with Kakashi-san – shall we continue our walk? There’s still so much to see!”

It’s a trap.

Wearing a tight smile, Obito whistled sharply, calling his charges to order; they straightened up immediately, eyes wide, alert.

“Right, you little gremlins. You stick close to us and we keep moving, understood?”

They nodded vigorously, and Sakura even came over to cling to his free hand.

Seeing this, Naruto rushed over to Sukea, his eyebrows furrowed.

Left alone, Sasuke crossed his arms, his face creasing into that typical clan expression, surely to hide the fact that he was annoyed by his situation and refused to admit it.

“Right, let’s go,” grumbled the jōnin-sensei.

Sakura’s hand was already all sticky, but surely less so than Naruto’s, he consoled himself.

“What are we going to see?” the little blond boy wanted to know.

He began listing everything they’d already done so far, thereby narrowing down the possibilities, much to his teacher’s displeasure.

For the sake of Konoha, and until their respective parents came to collect them, the brats needed to be kept sufficiently occupied so that no plans for chaos could take root in their little heads.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have tried every available activity, and as this wasn’t the first time they’d attended this event, there were no surprises.

That thought gave Obito just the idea he needed, and he immediately turned to the trio, his eyes shining.

“I’m going to entrust you with a mission of the utmost importance!”

He grabbed Sukea’s hand, pulling him forward to show him off.

“Sukea, here present, is a reporter who intends to write about the Festival of the Will of Fire! You will therefore have to guide him through the grounds and show him the village at its best, for the good of the village! Understood?”

Naturally, Naruto was immediately thrilled by the news, whilst Sakura began to ponder the best route, judging by her furrowed brow.

But Sasuke crossed his arms, glaring, not fooled.

“Where’s the mission scroll? And what’s the pay?”

Obito felt a strong urge to punch his dear cousin right in the face.

It would relax him.

But he was an adult and had to make adult decisions.

Instead, he took a deep breath and flashed his best smile.

“My eternal gratitude.”

Time seemed to stand still as the four onlookers’ eyes widened, before they burst out laughing, much to the jōnin’s chagrin.

Offended, he stood up straight and put on his teacher’s air:

“Otherwise, it’s two months of D-rank missions.”

Strangely motivated, the small team gathered to decide on the first step, whilst Sukea approached the shinobi, still wearing that gentle smile, though he broke it for a moment’s pout.

“Basically, it was your punishment. I have this odd feeling that you’ve just got rid of a troublesome burden and that you’re getting off scot-free.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, which made him grimace at the realisation.

“Sorry, it’s all I could come up with to keep them busy enough so they don’t try to set the village on fire.”

The pout vanished as if it had never existed, and Obito found himself smiling in return.

“You seem to speak from experience… any stories to share?”

“It’s… it’s confidential,” he stammered, blushing.

He wasn’t lying: the Yondaime had sealed it; no one was allowed to mention the incident for many, many years to come.

But, like any good journalist, Sukea didn’t let the matter drop, no doubt sensing a scoop, leaning in a little closer until he was practically squinting.

“Really?” he asked in a whisper. “I know how to keep my mouth shut, you know. I can do other things with it, too…”

He just managed to stammer that he’d taken note, thank you, could-you-please-step-back-thank-you, before his brain completely overheated.

This time, the mischievous spark in his grey-green eyes was almost threatening, whilst Sukea stepped back, but only to press both hands flat against the soft silk of his kimono, as if to savour the sensation, though his target was clearly below his hadagi.

Oh Sage, Obito was beginning to doubt his survival by the end of the evening…

Satisfied with the reaction he’d provoked, the tourist stepped back, humming cheerfully as he grabbed the shinobi’s arm once more, asking the children what was next on the agenda.

It wasn’t right to play with people like that; Minato-sensei always said it was a delicate matter.

But then again, it was Obito; he could make an exception, couldn’t he?

Despite his initial distraction, the jōnin could only congratulate his students on their organisation. They’d pulled it off like pros, and Sukea seemed to have enjoyed their little walk.

So, to mark the occasion, they’d stopped at a small stall and bought each of them a daifuku.

Well, it was mainly for him, happily cheating his beloved dango for their big brother’s, as he cheerfully sank his teeth into the sticky rice, the blueberry and mint coating his tongue and the Ube powder staining the corners of his mouth.

They had sat off to one side, somewhat in the shadows, resting their tired legs.

To think they were capable of running for miles but that walking was such a struggle!

The children devoured their treats as if there were no tomorrow, whilst Sukea ate it with a delicacy he thought he’d never seen before.

He took small bites, pulling his lips back over his teeth as he did so, chewed for a few seconds, swallowed, then started again, all the while holding his free hand beneath his mouth to catch the slightest crumb.

Finally noticing his gaze on him, the reporter gave him a shy smile.

“Would you like to try some?”

Snapping out of his reverie, Obito waved his hands to decline, searching for an excuse – other than admitting he’d been captivated by the sight of him eating.

“No, no, that’s kind of you! I… I’m allergic to nuts!” he claimed.

Unfortunately for him, his cousin heard him. But at least he merely frowned.

That was something, at least.

“That was delicious! What happens next?”

Once again, the jōnin paid no attention to the conversation, focusing instead on a speck of hazelnut powder dotting the civilian’s cheek.

He reached out to remove it, but was stopped by the man’s hand, which seized it firmly, turning a cold, menacing expression towards him – a world away from the affable, radiant one he’d shown until then.

Had he been right all along? Was Sukea a spy sent to sabotage or carry out reconnaissance?

Strangely, Obito felt aroused by this hostile face.

Admittedly, shinobi rarely had a calm and vanilla sex life, as civilians might, but he didn’t recall ever fantasising about a life-or-death situation.

Until now.

But Sukea resumed his peaceful smile and Obito instantly forgot his concerns. Not as if he were thinking of something else, but as if it had never happened.

“You’re a bit dirty,” he explained.

Immediately, the reporter brought his other hand to the spot indicated, but he didn’t let go; instead, he adjusted their grip so that they were holding hands, causing the shinobi to blush when he realised it.

He hesitated to pull away, then gave up.

On the other hand, he’d thought his hands were as soft as they looked, but it seemed he’d been mistaken.

No matter, he liked it, even if his thoughts were starting to wander.

Very pleasant, but this wasn’t the time!

Realising that everyone had finished and was staring at him, he allowed himself just a microsecond to appreciate Sukea conscientiously licking his fingers one by one, his attention fixed on him, before clearing his throat.

“Shall we carry on?”

The streets were starting to get busier, forcing them closer together – at least, that’s what he told himself as he finally let go of his hand and wrapped his arm around his waist, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead so as not to meet his. When he did dare to look, he didn’t seem bothered by it, having, in fact, closed his hand around his.

The main attraction was drawing near and the excitement was mounting.

“Do you think you could find me the perfect spot for a photo?”

Sukea’s question seemed to linger in his ear before he understood it.

He turned to face him, looking as though he were thinking, then glanced the other way to spot the three children – but they had been swallowed up by the crowd.

So he slipped them towards the nearest wall, scooped the reporter up into his arms and concentrated his chakra beneath his soles, scaling the façade with the ease that came from years of practice.

In his arms, Sukea didn’t scream in fear. Nor did he giggle.

He simply watched the passers-by below, then the city’s rooftops once they were up high.

It couldn’t have been the first time.

Obito didn’t know if it was that he was just strong or that Sukea was light, but he frowned as he realised how easily he could move him.

“This isn’t exactly ideal,” the civilian pouted.

“We’ve only gained some height,” he corrected him. “Hold on tight, so I don’t drop you.”

At those words, Sukea gave him that mischievous look again and opened his arms to slip them around his neck.

“Oh, but I’m always holding on tight,” he assured him.

If they carried on with this little game, the Uchiha wasn’t sure what he might do. Nor what the consequences might be.

Running and leaping from one rooftop to another was no great feat for a shinobi of his calibre, and he simply asked his passenger where the best spot for his photos would be.

Soon, the rooftops were filled with other shinobi, some accompanied by their families, who called out to one another cheerfully, trying to secure the best spots.

But that wasn’t where the reporter led them.

They found themselves practically on the opposite side of the competition, in a spot that seemed to him – to his novice eyes – to be the absolute antithesis of what would serve his article.

Obito was growing increasingly doubtful about the veracity of this famous article… And even more so when he realised that the nearest shinobi happened to be among the competitors on the ground.

Well, it certainly looks like I’m going to die tonight…

Unbeknownst to him, Sukea thanked him and slipped from his arms, testing his grip on the tiles, before turning to press a kiss on his bearer’s cheek, then returning to his reconnaissance.

Troubled, the latter watched him do so, hesitating.

He had picked up on quite a few inconsistencies with the story of a simple civilian journalist, but there were several possible solutions.

Of course, he could leave it to the T&I to find the right answer, but with the festival lasting three days…

“What do you think?”

Coming back down to earth, Obito squinted at the camera screen, where he could see the contestants hurling insults at one another. Absent-mindedly, he recognised a number of Uchiha.

At this stage, it was no longer a competition, it was a family outing…

“Is it… good?” he ventured.

He wasn’t really in the mood for it, which seemed to upset the young man, who pouted and turned his back on him, going back to taking his photos.

“Is this really the best spot?” he asked after a moment.

Further down, the jutsu vied with one another in technique and mastery. Each participant had to display the finest, the one best reflecting the embodiment of the ‘Will of Fire’.

Tch, and to think he hadn’t even been rewarded, after his accidental fire…

Was there anything more representative of Konoha than a cluster of unknown buildings reduced to ashes, honestly?

… Yes, certainly.

Surprised by the question, Sukea turned towards him, before straightening up and lowering his camera, looking guilty.

The sun had begun to set and the wind had picked up, ruffling the decorations and tousling his chestnut curls, as he smiled at him, eyes closed.

He fiddled with one of the adjustment buttons, looking down at his feet, before finally answering him.

“It’s one of the worst,” he finally admitted.

Obito suddenly felt capable of breathing fire without a mudrā, as a strange anger welled up within him.

“So, why?” he managed to say, still calm.

“Actually, I might have lied, once or twice…”

Embarrassed, he hid the lower half of his face behind his camera and scarf, looking away so as not to meet the slightly reddened eyes of the man he was speaking to.

The latter had moved closer, fists clenched and body tense as a bow.

“‘Once or twice’?” he repeated in a dry voice. “What do you mean?”

“I…” he began before swallowing. “I’ve been to Konoha before, and to the festival too.”

Marvellous. Not only had he allowed a spy to roam freely around the village, but he’d taken me for a fool. If I don’t die tonight, they’ll never leave me in peace.

A fleeting vision of a disapproving Kakashi flashed before his eyes, to his bewilderment.

“Is that all?” he growled.

“That’s all!” he assured him.

And he fixed his gaze on his, as if inviting him to probe his soul more closely.

Obito really wanted to believe him.

It would be so much simpler to just accept it and carry on with the evening, to walk him back to his inn, to wish each other goodnight and leave it at that (perhaps).

But there were still too many inconsistencies to let it go.

“You’re not a civilian,” he snapped.

However, all he got was a sad look, one that suited him so little it didn’t fit his face. His face was made for smiles, for light-hearted and positive expressions.

Not… that.

“I have chakra,” he admitted. “But my reserves are tiny. I barely graduated, then the war… I couldn’t bear that life any longer. So… I resigned.

His knuckles were almost white as he gripped his camera, his melancholic gaze lost in the crowd.

“I just wanted… to see beautiful things. For myself. And to share them with others.”

Obito could hardly press the matter further under these circumstances.

He just wanted to accept this explanation and carry on with the festival as if nothing had happened.

But his duty…

He looked at his counterpart again, but nothing in his demeanour betrayed any sinister intent. The story of the retired shinobi, disillusioned with the system, could well be true.

Noticing his gaze on him, Sukea flashed his teasing smile again, tapping his index finger against his lips as he gave him a wink.

“But you can carry out a full search if you doubt me!”

“Stop joking!” he exclaimed.

Stepping closer to him, the former shinobi smoothed out a crease on his chest with the flat of his hand, his expression turning serious before he leaned close to his ear:

“But I’m not joking.”

He stepped back, flashing his innocent smile once more and pulling out his camera.

“Stop your little game,” Obito grumbled. “What’s the point of taking photos of a festival you’ve already seen?”

Without pausing, he turned, capturing him lecturing him.

“Just because I’ve seen it before doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy seeing it again.”

He felt his ears grow warm despite the cold wind, as he once again lost his composure due to the flirting.

Finally deciding it was just paranoia, the jōnin sighed and went to sit on the edge of the roof, mimicking Sukea, who gave him another of his broad smiles.

He snapped a few photos now and then, but it was clearly just for fun.

“Do you ever keep photos just for yourself?” he asked him.

His look of surprise was quickly replaced by a smirk as the reporter showed off his camera.

“Of course! In fact, I’ve just snapped a stunning model that I intend to keep for more personal use.”

He finished his spiel with a wink as the model in question turned a deep crimson.

“N… no, I mean…”

His laughter rang out, cutting him off effectively.

“Yes, of course! I took up photography long before I ever thought of making a career out of it. As for the photos, you often need several to select the one that best suits the text.”

Unable to keep a straight face any longer, he turned to Obito with a charming look.

“I also do nude photography, just in case.”

The Uchiha had blushed so much in the space of a few hours that he was beginning to worry about his heart.

He should ask Rin about it tomorrow.

“No thanks,” he mumbled.

“Oh, that reminds me!”

In the moonlight, everything about him screamed innocence and shyness, his pale complexion and the purple marks under his eyes fully highlighted.

He’s rather cute, he admitted to himself.

“You were asking me about the festivals I’d seen earlier today, remember?”

“Yes, yes: artichoke throwing, periwinkle spitting, cheese wheel races…”

“Exactly! But there’s one in particular I’d very much like you to see, shinobi-san.”

It had already been awkward enough that he’d called him that when he thought he was a civilian; it was even worse now that he knew about his failed career.

“Oh, really? Which one?”

“Hadaka Matsuri!” he exclaimed. (Festival of the Naked Man)

Then, before his neighbour had time to process the information, he leaned close to him, his breath rolling against his skin.

“A festival where the participants often wear nothing but a fundoshi. And when the Shinto priest throws the sacred object and they all jostle to grab it…”

He grabbed his chin to turn it towards him, moving a little closer, his smile no longer gentle or innocent.

There was something… predatory about it, which sent a few cold shivers down Obito’s spine.

He stood frozen, as if hypnotised, his heart beating faster.

Every now and then, the glow of the jutsu lit up their faces, warming Sukea’s pale complexion.

There were bursts of colour, like fireworks, as their lips met and their eyes closed.

There was no more hazelnut powder, but it didn’t really matter as their kiss deepened.

His ears felt as though they were full of water, until he heard a faint ‘click’.

The sound of the shutter.

Surprised – and a little embarrassed – Obito stepped back, looking at the offending camera and then its owner, looking outraged.

“My personal collection,” he assured him. “Another lovely addition to my album.”

Unsure of himself, the jōnin didn’t quite know how to react. The compliment was nice, but that kiss…?

“My invitation for the nude photos or to appear in Hadaka still stands, by the way!” he called out cheerfully. “I have no intention of letting you off the hook any time soon!”

Unsure where the joke ended and the serious proposal began, the jōnin made a radical decision: to vanish.

Clutching his wig against the sudden gust of wind caused by the use of the jutsu of instantaneous movement, Sukea pouted.

Had he been too pushy?

Maa, it wasn’t his fault that Obito was as thick as a brick! He’d had no choice but to go on the offensive to make himself understood!

Sighing, he stood up, smoothed out his clothes, then leapt from rooftop to rooftop with ease, paying no attention to the festival below, heading instead for a house set back from the street, which he entered without knocking, setting his camera down on the kitchen table, where he began to remove his wig and his large olive-coloured coat.

He waited until he was in the bathroom to remove his green contact lenses and purple make-up, and when he returned, he was no longer alone.

In his kimono bearing the Hatake kamon, Sakumo was rummaging through the cupboards, barely turning as the reporter passed.

“Back already?”

“Yes, the festival had lost all interest,” he grumbled.

“Wait until you’ve been to as many as I have!” laughed the older man.

Finally taking out the family mead to pour himself a glass, he turned to him.

“I’m going to have a drink on the engawa, will you join me?”

“No, I’ll leave you to ‘your’ moon,” he teased.

He gathered his things, balancing them in his arms, allowing Sakumo to spot the camera.

He pointed at it.

“Have you taken any interesting shots?”

“You could say that.”

Sukea could feel the corners of his lips curving into a mischievous smile, recalling two in particular. And a whole bunch of others taken without their subjects’ knowledge, of course!

A little tired, but mostly amused, the elder shook his head with a sigh.

“Well, on that enlightening note, I wish you good night, Kakashi! I’m off to see ‘my’ moon!”

They parted with a similar amused smile, each turning to their planned activity: Sakumo and his silent contemplation whilst sipping his drink, Kakashi and the creation of his very specific portraits.

And, if he were wearing a disguise in one of them, who could possibly object?