.

Love may have the longest arms, but it

can still fall short of an embrace.

Hiwa freezes midway through braiding one chunk of her hair, having just stepped into the main part of her apartment. She blinks. Sleep lingers in her mind, a fuzzy filter over her thoughts and vision, but she doesn't think she's imagining this now.

"What are you doing in my house?" she blurts out, the words slurred a bit around the edges.

From his place on her couch, reading her book, Kakashi shrugs.

Rei breaks from Hiwa's side and goes over to nuzzle his hand, and Hiwa makes a disgusted noise. "You traitor."

Kakashi pats her and tosses her a treat.

Not awake enough for this mess, Hiwa keeps on towards her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

She doesn't reenter the living room until she has a cup cradled between her hands, the steam rising up and tickling her chin. The smell is everything she needs—warm, rich, and with a hint of spice from the cinnamon. Alone, it's enough to put a spring in her step.

Until she sees Kakashi sitting on her couch like it's his house, not hers, and she sighs.

"Kakashi," she says. "Why are you in my house?"

He waves the book around. "You seemed to have decent book tastes, aversion to smut aside, and I wanted something to read."

She doesn't mind that in concept. She's proud of her book collection—she's got stuff from all around the Elemental Nations, stuff that Kakashi would never be able to find in the Konoha book shops or its library.

In practice?

It brings her to where she is, with an asshole on her couch. Kakashi's like a human-sized cat—waltzes into a space and treats it like it's his without any regard for whoever actually owns the space.

"And you couldn't, oh. I don't know. Wait until I was awake and then ask first?"

"First of all, you offered already, remember? I'm just taking you up on the open invitation," Kakashi says. "Secondly…" He gestures at the clock on the table beside the couch.

Three in the afternoon.

"... fair."

She wanders over and settles herself cross-legged on the table. She tilts her head, reading the title on the cover, and her eyebrows go up. "Of Makeouts and Kunai," she reads. "You really went and found the only mildly smutty book on my shelf."

"It sounded the most interesting."

"I'm sure," she says.

She takes a sip of her coffee. It's still hot and she scalds her tongue some, but it's worth it for the shot of warmth that runs through her body as it goes down.

"Thanks for the takeout a few days ago, by the way."

Kakashi stiffens. His eye flicks up to her, then back down to his book.

He pulls a face that Hiwa can only describe as 'ugh, feelings' and says, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't see who else it could have been, but you," she says. "It wasn't Genma, and it was still fresh. So it was left somewhat soon before I woke up. Meaning whoever left it had been keeping tabs on me, to know when I'd be up for real."

"Mah, you're a lovely young woman. I'm sure you have plenty of friends who could've left it in there for you."

Hiwa laughs. "I don't have friends, Kakashi."

Kakashi goes still as a statue.

But he relaxes again. "Well, it wasn't me. But Pakkun. You see, he has a soft spot for Rei. Might have done something to try and impress her human, get on her good side."

"Kakashi—"

"And, really," he continues, "do you always eat strange food you find in your fridge? That's not healthy. Poisonings happen, you know."

Holy shit, Hiwa thinks. He's a nervous rambler.

"Kakashi."

And he stares at her. Hiwa opens her mouth to say something else, but she blinks and all that's left on her couch is smoke and a small pile of leaves.

Rei rears back in surprise and Hiwa waves her hand to clear the smoke.

"He took my book," she mumbles to herself. "Asshole."

But her day must go on, so Hiwa drags herself off the table and back into her kitchen for some breakfast.

"Hiwa!"

Hiwa stops, shopping bags filled with a small fortune in newly bought clothes—thank you, what's left of her casino money—hanging off her arms, and turns. "Taru?"

She spots Taru weaving through the crowd towards her, Hachi hot on his heels.

"What… the hell… Hiwa…" He huffs out his breaths in harsh bursts, his hands braced on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. The chain around his neck falls loose from his shirt and the two rings hanging off of it, a rusted, worn gold band and a more polished silver one, glisten in the sunlight. "I can't… believe you…"

"What?"

He glares at her. "You didn't tell me… you were… married."

She sighs. "Maybe we should go grab lunch. I don't think this is a 'standing in the middle of the street' conversation."

.

.

Taru lets out a low whistle. He leans back in the chair at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant they found, his plate empty in front of him. "They told us you got exiled. Tsume refused to say why. But she showed us proof that you signed the forms, so…"

"It was kind of a mess," Hiwa admits. She brushes some spilled rice—that definitely didn't come from her bowl, never, not on her life—off the table, chewing on her own pork fried rice. She catches sight of Hachi darting forward to lick up the crumbs and smothers a smile. "I felt like I didn't have any other options."

"Well… I see why you got in trouble, at least."

"Yeah. I can't really blame them."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had literally only gotten married the day you came—"

"But you had days afterwards, before they booted you out," he says. "And I heard through the grapevine that you were out on a mission. But you've been back how long, now?"

She cringes.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"No reason," she insists. "Seriously. I just…"

"Didn't think to."

"I mean. Yeah?"

He rolls his eyes. "Kami."

"I'm sorry!"

"Seriously, kid. I'm an old man. My heart can't take this." He takes a drink from his water and shakes his head. "Shiranui Hiwa. Sounds weird, to me."

And hearing it said out loud has Hiwa wincing.

Taru narrows his eyes. "What was that?"

She scratches her arm, wishing that she'd thought to bring her cigarettes. But she's been smoking a lot over the last month. She ought to go a few weeks without, at this point.

"Things are just complicated right now," she says.

"Oh boy. That's that tone you got after you and that Yoshio boy—"

"Yoshiro."

"Whatever. You and that boy broke up."

Her face flames red. "That didn't even count," she says. "We were like, eleven, and it was one date."

One date that she agreed to so she could mess it up and make him change his mind about dating her because she felt all kinds of weird dating somebody that young. And it worked. That 'tone' as Taru put it wasn't because she was sad about things not 'working out' between the two of them—that was intentional.

What had gotten her was that while he dragged her around the village by the hand, planting a kiss on her cheek here and there, the first memories of her marriage started to solidify in her mind like how an old photograph comes into focus once the dust has been blown off of it. It was the first time she got caught in that melancholic nostalgia, a time before the memories fully blossomed into the more solid recollections she has now.

It left her confused more than anything, at the time. She'd gotten other memories back at this point—memories of her parents, of her work, of her schooling—but it was the first time she'd ever remembered him, and it came so much later than everything else.

She remembers not knowing how to cope with the ache in her chest after that long.

And she hadn't thought of it before, but that ache is similar to the one she has now, whenever Genma pops into her thoughts.

She supposes she doesn't know how to do it now, either. How to soothe that ache, that feeling like something's being pulled from her grasp before she got the chance to properly explore it.

"C'mon," he says, in that same soft tone he'd used the night he'd dragged her to her meeting with Tsume. The one that reminds her that this man had been a friend of her father's, and had watched her grow up. "What's going on?"

"Things happened on the mission," she says. "Things that gave me hope that something would happen when I came back to the village. With the guy I married, I mean. We were sent out on the mission together."

"And you two weren't, uh—romantic, let's say—before you left on the mission."

"No," Hiwa says. "We barely knew each other."

"But it started to happen while you were on the mission."

"Yep."

"And?"

Hiwa sighs and sets her chopsticks down. "It was different when I talked to him again after we got back. Like he'd put a wall back up."

"Have you talked to him about this?"

"We haven't actually spoken since then."

"Kid," he says. "You're killing me, here."

"I know, alright?" she whines. "It's a mess and I'm not making it any better."

"So why haven't you?"

"Maybe if I ignore it long enough, the feelings will just go away? I'm pretty sure that's what happened with him—"

"You don't know that."

"You didn't see it, Taru."

"But I know you. And I know that you forget to shut that stupid brain of yours off, sometimes, and listen to what your heart is telling you."

"That was… really corny."

"Cut it out! I'm trying to give you sage advice here."

And she gives him a weak smile. "Thanks, Taru. Seriously. I know you're right, okay? I think I just need to sort some things out, first. With myself. Before I go and talk to him."

"I'm gonna follow up with you," he warns. "Isn't that right, Hachi?"

The beagle bays, loud and sharp.

"Alright," she says, her smile a bit stronger. "I think I can deal with that."

.

.

"It was good talking to you," Hiwa says, getting up from her seat. She lines her bags back over along her arms. "Tell Tsu that I'll try and set up something to see her soon, okay?"

"You could tell her yourself, in a couple weeks."

She stiffens. "Taru…"

"I know, alright? I know. But if I have to, I'll get into a fist-fight with Tsume just so you'll be allowed to attend the ceremony on the 10th."

"I can't make waves like that right now."

"Your father would still want you there," he murmurs. "We both know he would."

And the bitter smile on her lips burns like she'd tried to kiss an open flame. But she knows Taru means well—he always does. There's no anger behind the smile, just a sad frustration at the situation. "Dad would also want me to still be an Inuzuka," she says, her voice quiet as well. "And we've seen how that one went."

She looks down at her foot and the scar on it, only partially visible through the cutout in her sandals.

He also wouldn't want her to be as much of a coward as she is now, either. But she can't bring herself to say that one out loud.

Taru winces. "Sorry, kid."

"Don't be—you haven't done anything wrong. Not your fault that the situation sucks as much as it does."

"Yeah, well…" He sighs. "I'll come find you on the 10th, okay? Take a trip to the stone with you. I've been meaning to visit Kimi the last few weeks, anyway."

The smile on her face lightens some. "Yeah. That'd be nice, I think."

"Good."

.

.

When Hiwa sees the slider on the porch of her apartment is open a crack from where she stands in the courtyard, she knows Kakashi's broken in again.

She squints.

In light of that, she uses her tree-walking skills for the first time in literal years and scales the building. Because two can play at that game and after her conversation with Taru, her emotions are a bit off-kilter. Both from the reminder that she'll be barred from attending the Inuzuka remembrance ceremony for the 10th, and talking about Genma.

Taru can say what he wants—he wasn't there, and he doesn't know Genma. He didn't spend almost an entire month with the man day in and day out.

She knows what she read in his tone and posture and all of the things he didn't say.

She's still hoping that if she just stays away from him for a while, lets things simmer down, she'll realize that all he did was fill that void of physical affection she was craving like she originally thought.

A few days of separation so she can try to sort herself out won't hurt anything, right? It's enough time that if he rejects her, her heart won't be crushed like a butterfly under heel.

That's not asking much.

Hiwa mutters a curse as the top of her sandals catches on a nail sticking out of the wall and she almost falls flat on her face.

All of this was easier on the mission—she half-expected a rejection.

But after he got her hopes up? After she started to let herself see 'after the mission' as them maybe getting together, and not just him doing exactly what he's doing now? When him liking her back stopped being an 'if'?

It just hurts.

Things felt so easy between the two of them, for the days right at the end. So what happened?

He was the one who said he didn't want to promise anything until they were back, and then he had to go and do exactly that.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And she wonders if he even realizes that's what he did. He probably just meant to promise that he wasn't going to die on her, or something.

She wishes she could have taken it that way.

Actually, she wishes that she'd never said anything in the first place because the confirmation is what makes this painful. If she had kept on thinking that she was the only one caught up in this mess, at least she could have used that to talk herself out of it. Told herself to let it go because it would never happen. Reminded herself that if he knocked over her glass of milk without even realizing it and didn't stick around to help her wipe up the spill, there was nothing to throw a fit over because accidents happened, he never meant to hurt her.

This wasn't an accident, and he knows full well what he's done. Even if he didn't mean that promise how he did, going from cuddling and touching and making heartfelt promises to almost letting her walk past and not even saying 'hi' when she stopped to talk with them is night and day. That's a purposeful change in behaviour, and he can't brush it off as if he doesn't know how she feels.

He does. And he's doing this anyways.

Hiwa pushes the slider on the porch open with a bit more force than needed, and it shudders in its frame.

She wonders if this would have hit her as hard if it took place two months back. If the creeping dread that hits her once September nears its end is making this worse than it would have otherwise been.

Kakashi's standing in front of her fridge, browsing through her food.

He doesn't turn to look at her as she slips in through the slider. He doesn't look at her when she drops her bags onto the couch. And he doesn't acknowledge her as she enters the kitchen, headed right towards him.

Hiwa stands with her hip leaned against the counter, a foot away from him as he browses through her fridge like it's his own.

Because she has an idea, and it's a terrible one.

She pushes herself off the counter and puts herself right up into his personal space. Still nothing.

So, she steps to the side, putting herself between him and the fridge. Kakashi doesn't move an inch. He stands there, frozen, hand still rifling through the fridge, as they're suddenly so close that her nose is almost touching his from the way he's slouched forward.

Is she going to regret this? Maybe. But she has a hypothesis to test.

She goes up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his masked ones.

Kakashi doesn't move.

After half a minute, if not less, she rocks back onto her heels and sighs.

Mild, Kakashi says, "Did you get what you wanted from that?"

"Not really."

Before she can blink, his hands are on her shoulders and his bare lips are against hers and all she can think about is how soft they are and the fact that his kiss is surprisingly gentle—steady and experienced, but careful in a way Genma's weren't. It's lazy and collected, no rushing the process, no overwhelming passion. Just a surety and consideration that warms her all the way down to her toes.

It's everything she remembers and more. And she's brought right back to remembering how she'd tumbled into crushing on somebody so hateable ninety-five percent of the time because there's something more to the way he kisses.

She's so wrapped up in the kiss that she only registers the way he's guiding her out of the way of the fridge when he breaks away from her, his mask pulled back up by the time she opens her eyes again.

Asshole.

"Well?" he asks, sounding like he doesn't care at all. "Better?"

Hiwa's hand flutters up to her mouth.

The desire to be touched feels suitably quenched, that's for sure.

But the ache? When she pokes at it, like an open wound she feels it protest, sharp and uncomfortable. Her eyes fall shut and she sighs.

"No," she mumbles.

He hums. "Shame."

She presses a hand to her forehead, angling her palm to cover her eyes.

That was supposed to do it.

Kissing Kakashi felt as good as kissing Genma did, if not better. If all she felt for Genma was some kind of complicated lust, kissing somebody else would have solved it, right? That ache would be soothed and she could move on with her day.

It's not soothed.

In fact, it almost feels worse because thinking about that kiss with Kakashi has something sparking in her chest that she outright refuses to acknowledge because one of those at a time is more than enough.

And she knows she's going to regret this, too, in a few hours, when she's gotten a better handle on herself, but she's hurting and frustrated and confused and she finds herself asking, "You know Genma and I had something going on the mission, right?"

"Given that we had a discussion on this very subject—"

"After that, we talked about it. We started… you know? I don't even know what we started. But it was something."

"Drama."

"And once we got back to the village, the first time he saw me, he just… pulled all the way back," she mumbles, as if he hadn't said anything. It's like a dam with a crack in it, and the longer the leak drips the more it presses against the crack and the more water comes out until eventually, the damn breaks open entirely and all the water pours out in a rush. "Didn't even come visit me while I was out or after I woke up, even when you did."

"I take offence to that."

"Am I a doormat for not hating him?" she asks. "Am I… Kami. I should be mad, right? I'm supposed to be upset? Because this isn't fair and I'm so tired of this. So why aren't I mad? Why can't I just… get mad at him?"

Kakashi freezes. He pulls his arm back and stares at her like she's some kind of rabid dog.

She should shut up at this point. He's uncomfortable. She's not thinking straight and unloading her problems on somebody who isn't equipped to deal with them or offer her any kind of constructive advice. And who probably doesn't care, has no reason to, beyond what gossip value all of this holds for him.

She got invested in Kakashi, for some dumb reason—it was a one-way street. Will be a one-way street again, if she's feeling what she thinks she's feeling because that popping up again sounds exactly like her luck right now.

"He told me he wasn't going anywhere, and then he just walked away. So how come I'm stuck feeling… whatever this is for him, still? Why can't I just get mad at him and let it go?"

Kakashi's eye widens.

He looks vaguely like a civilian who's just stumbled across a grizzly bear, from the way he's leaned all the way away from her and staring at her in some kind of blank, dumbfounded horror. His hermit status is common knowledge; it's clear that he's not used to having people pour their guts out to him like this.

Though, she thought she might be the exception, at this point.

She feels the wetness on her cheeks and realizes that she's crying, to boot.

Hiwa mutters a curse and rubs her eyes with the bottom of her shirt and when she pulls it back down he's gone, the fridge still open.

That's twice in two days she's scared him off, now. That has to be a record.

"I'm a mess," she mutters to herself.

She pushes the fridge closed.

A voice in the back of her head tells her she ought to put her clothes away before they can wrinkle any worse than they probably already have, but the energy isn't there. This "emotions" thing is tiring business. She's spent. It's a problem for future Hiwa.

The bags end up on the ground and she plops down onto her couch. She doesn't even have it in her to kick her shoes off. She just grabs a blanket, drapes it over herself, and settles her head on the throw pillow.

She's out in seconds.

.

.

The smell of food rouses her.

When she opens her eyes, she catches sight of a silver-haired silhouette as it ghosts out the door and onto her balcony, leaving the door open a crack behind them. She drags herself up.

She's surprised when it's her bare feet that hit the ground—she knows she went to sleep with her shoes on, today. But that thought is discarded when she registers what's in front of her,

On the table is a box of takeout with a book sat on top of it.

Her book, the one she 'lent' Kakashi.

She gets up long enough to stick the box into the fridge and settle the book back in its home on the shelf, then she goes back to her nap. But this time, there's a smile on her face.

A/N: am posting this from Work, on shift, but i remembered!