A/N: I don't own Naruto or any of it's characters. Would love to hear your thoughts :). Slow-burn romance. I will get into Yumi's (OC) personality more soon, but it's important for me to establish the moments when she is an infant.

Boring. This was the last place he wanted to be, a hospital surrounded by coddling adults and useless infants.

"Dad, can we go now?"

"Kakashi, we just got here." Literally. They just took one step across the threshold. "C'mon this will be fun."

And with clear disdain, "I thought we were going to eat."

"Right after." He pushes Kakashi along encouragingly. Kakashi pushes back.

" Anything you want, okay?"

"Tempura."

"Again?"

He nods and his pace quickens. At least I'll get something out of this.

Nurses swivel to get a peek at the famous Sakumo Hatake. Kakashi rolls his eyes as another nurse offers to guide them... straight down the hall. In some ways he prided himself on the attentions his father always drew. But, after it happens at every twist and turn, any self-satisfaction soon turns toward annoyance.

Maya waves them over. "Hatake-san"

"You're here on the day shift as well? You should get some rest." She smiles, but her discomfort lingers.

"T-thank you for your concern. I just wanted to monitor her." - Nodding toward Door 332 - "Overnight. Infants are a bit trickier to predict. Um... there was something I'd like to discuss with you..."

She glances at Kakashi.

"Kakashi, why don't you go in and say hi while Maya-san and I catch up?"

Grown-ups are so obvious.

"Hai." He walked into room 332 to find only one crib.

I hate kids. And no, he was not a kid. He was much too independent for that nonsense!

He'd fully expected the room to be filled with funky smells and piercing cries, but it was quiet to a fault. His entrance drawing more attention than the bundle in the middle of the room.

He saunters over to the crib, eyes drifting down toward the baby. She was chubby and plump and red and looks, well, exactly as he expected a baby to look. She was relentlessly fragile. And oh god, Kakashi get yourself together you do NOT want to pinch her cheeks.

He huffs. This is a waste of time.

He walks past the crib to the closed window. Blue skies hover leisurely above quaint back roads of Konoha. His eyes narrow as an ANBU scales across an orange rooftop. The masked figure hops down, away from sight.

He glances back at the crib, then the door. What's taking him so long? But he knows from experience that the ANBU was likely for his father - and if it was important enough to warrant ANBU delivering the news, he wouldn't see his father for a couple more hours.

I should be training. The space was certainly large enough for a few basic ninjutsu exercises, and if his father had anything to say about it, well then he shouldn't have left him alone so long.

His eyes close, blocking out the whites and steels of the hospital room, instead imagining an open training field. His hands come up to form a quick sequence of seals for Bunshin jutsu. Even without opening his eyes he knows three perfect clones stand beside him.

A soft current of wind dances around him, playing with the tips of his hair.

His eyes snap open as he dispels the clones with a poof. He knows the windows are closed and he didn't hear the sound of the door opening. His eyes scan the premises - nothing has changed. He's sure of it.

A small gurgle sounds from the crib. He freezes. Then another, this time louder - a warm, airy little noise. Nothing like the shrieks he had imagined.

He walks back over to the crib. Round doe eyes blink to life and he stares into innocent brown hues. And before he can stop the thought from forming - cute.

Wait. Did she cause the wind?

Tiny arms and legs flail under the heavy sheets. Annoyance seeps onto her features as she struggles to get out from under her nest. A whine escapes her lips as her arm almost frees itself - almost, but not quite. She squirms again to no avail.

And he can't help but LAUGH. A full-hearted laugh that reaches wide into the back of his chest. Uninhibited by any sort of appearances he has to uphold - I mean, his only audience is this child.

He swears she pouts at his outburst.

"Alright, alright I'll give you a hand."

He gently lifts the covers back.

"Was it you with the wind?"

She gurgles incomprehensibly. He sighs, again.

Because - "Why am I even talking to you?"

Her hand extends toward him, waiting for him to take it.

When he doesn't, her head tilts questionably to the side. Her arm stretches further toward him, fingers clasping at air. And then he feels it: a light wind pushing him toward her. Pushing wasn't necessarily the right word, because it felt more like it was drawing him in.

He leans in, his own hand gently taking hers. And the feeling is instantaneous. Her chakra touches his own - subtle and soft. Like the first rays of light warming the earth. An honest communication between two hearts.

For the first time in her life, she smiles. Because in him, she feels kindness and hope and loyalty.

And his heart warms. Because in her, he feels honesty and joy and trust.

For a brief moment, something fiercely protective surges inside him. But he'll never tell a soul.