The pair lay in bed, both sets of eyes glued to the ceiling and mouths pulled tight in complex mixtures of emotion. Their expressions were mostly composed of worry but hints of pain, confusion, and fear bubbled up in subtle twitches of the muscles around their faces. Haruka was crushed under the weight of their previous conversation. Her mind stirred the pot, dragging up each exchange. It was painful and completely masochistic: each turn of the wheel casting the conversation in increasingly dark and more tragic light. Her machinations ground to a halt when Neji's hand slid from his chest and found her hand at her side. Wordlessly, he laced his fingers through hers and gave it a firm reassuring squeeze. Haruka jumped, surprised at the sudden contact. The silence had been stretching between them for almost thirty minutes. Satoru's soft, sleepy breathing from his crib was the only sound in the room. It had been easy in the echo chamber of her thoughts for Haruka to forget she wasn't alone, that the space between her and her husband was only inches and not the sea she had been imagining.

"We'll get through this." Neji spoke with an assertive tone that implied he'd spent the silence making up his mind about the matter. His voice was as firm as the hand in hers; his resolve was unshakable. "This doesn't change anything, nor should it."

Haruka felt like she'd been struck. Who was this man she married? What was he made from that she could come to him with such terrible news and take it all so calmly? But again, as always, Neji proved that when he took his vows he meant them. No matter what mess Haruka made for herself, he would crawl down into the dirt with her. It didn't bother him that it was another prison for him to live on, a shackle on his ankle in addition to all the other ruin she had sullied him with. In less than half an hour Neji had determined to see it through. He should hate her, or at least resent her a little. As if sensing all the mean thoughts his wife was pummeling herself with, Neji scooched closer, gently rolled her onto her side and spooned her. One arm was under his head for support and the other cupped her belly protectively. For the second time in her life, Haruka was growing another person inside her. It was still early in, and the pair had only just themselves found out for sure. It was going to complicate an already impossible situation.

"This is a shock, Haruka, there's no denying that. I know other people would be angry or spiteful in this situation but I just…I can't," Neji pulled her close. "I know this probably makes me a bad husband but I literally can't get upset with you. The only time I even come close is if you aren't taking care of yourself. After everything we've been through, I realized all the other stuff blows over eventually. Speaking of which," Haruka could feel his gently accusing eyes on the back of her head. "You aren't going to be able to get any sleep, are you?"

Tears were burning Haruka's eyes and she was holding her breath to stifle the sob clawing at the back of her throat. Slowly, she shook her head. Neji sensed her tension and softly tugged her shoulder, prompting her to face him. Haruka followed the silent request and buried herself into his chest. Neji wrapped his arm around her and tossed a leg over hers. "Call out tomorrow."

Haruka looked up at her normally by the book husband. "What?"

Neji gave her a vulnerable smile. "You are going to be a hot mess tomorrow between the crying and not getting enough sleep." He watched her expression. He didn't get the chuckle he was expecting, so he continued: "The truth is after everything that happened today I just want to spend some quality time with you. Let's sleep in, have a nice breakfast, and just rest. I really need that. I think you do, too."

Haruka's lips pulled tight in a frown but she nodded. "If we stay up another hour I can just call Iruka. He's usually at the school by five thirty."

"I don't think that'll be too hard." Neji kissed her forehead. "But let's just talk about happy stuff, okay? I can't handle it when you're sad."

"What am I, your baby?" Haruka let out a small chuckle at last.

"Yes," Neji smiled, relief washing over him at the change in the mood. "From the second you stumbled into Hinata's house for the first time til the day I die, you'll be just as much a baby to me as our children."

...

"Okay, Beks," Yuki tapped the papers in front of her. "I have a proposal for you."

Her daughter closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she fed Satoru bits of noodle for him to gum. "What is it?"

"So Kakashi is really pushing this whole 'upstanding member of the community' thing," Yuki put air quotes around the phrase and used a mocking impression of Kakashi as she spoke. "And last time I tried to do that I kind of put you in hot water."

Haruka gave a dismissive wave. "Don't worry about it."

"Well my thought was this time around I want to come to you first." Yuki clicked her pen and smiled enthusiastically. "So the festival is coming up and Kakashi told me I have to run something. Prove my leadership skills."

Haruka's expression was deadpan. "Did you sign up to teach stripping classes or fortune telling?"

Yuki sputtered. "Is that all you think I'm capable of?"

"I think for you, that's the easy way out," Haruka leaned over an gave her son a snuggle. He was fussing a little and grabbing for her bowl.

"What's up?" Yuki glanced at him.

"He's been hounding me for meat," Haruka shrugged. "I don't know what the little carnivore's deal is but he doesn't have enough teeth yet and I'm not about to momma bird him."

"If you make it small enough he can have a tiny bit," Yuki offered. "You always wanted to eat all the baby meatballs out of the soup I used to make."

Haruka followed her mother's advice and gave Satoru the teeniest bit of meat, to which he squealed delightedly. They continued their conversation. Haruka would stop occasionally to slurp up a noodle or finger feed her son.

"So, back to the festival," Yuki beamed. "I'm running the haunted house."

Haruka's eyes snapped wide. "Does Kakashi know?"

Yuki nodded enthusiastically. "He told me it was a great idea."

"Why did you take the haunted house, Mom?" Haruka's brows knit in confusion. "Don't you think our idea of scary is a little much for the Leaflings?"

Yuki's smile twisted wickedly, her voice affecting a malevolent tone. "Exactly."

"So you took the haunted house because you want to make it so scary the grown men in town run out crying," Haruka rephrased. "And you want me to help you with it."

Yuki clicked her pen again expectantly. "You're the only person who can."

"Why?" Haruka asked.

"Because I can put you in a blazing cage and you won't get hurt," Yuki sneered. "You've seen enough people go up in flames to be able to recreate their death throes."

Haruka gave her mother a horrified look. Her mouth was slightly slack and a series of emotions passed her face: confusion, revulsion, and anger. As gross as the idea was, Haruka had a lot steam she needed to blow off. In the old days she would have taken someone out sparring with her, preferably someone who could take a beating, and completely cut loose. Alas, those days were long behind her. That meant that Haruka's only option was a cheap thrill at watching grown men scream like little girls. It was with those thoughts that Haruka puffed in agreement and rested her chin on her hand. "We'll have to rub me down with bacon grease first to get the smell right."

Yuki squealed and danced excitedly in her seat. "I knew I could count on you to be as sick and demented as I am!"

As the two sat in their booth brainstorming, Yuki would occasionally scan their surroundings. It was an old habit, something in this time of peace she should let up on, but Yuki knew she never would. Alone she was hyper alert; her protective instincts were especially active in the presence of her child and grandchild. She went full momma bear, sizing up every person that stepped through the doors and screening every passerby on the street. That's when she saw him.

"Look alive, Beks," Yuki cocked her head to get a better view out the window. "Your ex is apparently in town."

Haruka's eyes went wide and she snapped her head around. There was a moment of silence as they quietly watched him approach. Haruka pulled back from the window and sat in her seat with an uncertain expression. "It's been, what, five years for him? A year and some change for me?"

Her mother didn't reply. Instead her gaze was completely transfixed on the Kazekage, her brows knit and her mouth twisted in disdain. "That haircut," Yuki gagged. "Woof."

A moment of silence passed between them. Yuki tore her eyes away from the street and watched her daughter. Yuki hadn't seen that kind of internal conflict cross her daughter's face since Haruka was sixteen. Haruka glanced at Satoru, her eyes lingering on her son for a long time. Her gaze would then drop to the ring on her hand and shoot up to her mother, only to end up on her baby again. She sighed, a small pout pursing her lips. "I should talk to him."

"Why?" Yuki rested her chin on her hand. "To him and the rest of the world, you died years ago. He's grieved you and moved on. Which is sad when you consider that Red never stood a chance." She gestured to Satoru, who was now playing with one of the udon noodles Haruka had set before him. "Besides, you're happily married and have a family now. What are you going to do, go rub some salt in his wounds? 'Hi Gaara, remember me? Your ex? I died and came back! Don't get too excited, though, I ran off and married another guy! Wanna meet my baby?'" Yuki shook her head. "I mean, it's cruel. Then again if you want to, I can understand. You probably got your mean streak from me."

"No," Haruka said as she rose to her feet. "It…it's wrong. It would be wrong for me not to talk to him. I owe him that much. I never…I need to talk to him." She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and tucked her chin. Yuki saw the vulnerable, teenage Beki retreat inside and the grown up Haruka return. "I'll be back in a bit."

Yuki shrugged and looked at her grandson. "So, Satoru, what would you think of me putting you in nontoxic glow in the dark body paint? You would just sit in a basket with some prosthetic horns and cry. Kind of like what you do when Shikamaru picks you up."

"Nana," Satoru grinned.

Yuki beamed back. "I knew I could count on you."

…

The Kazekage was comfortable in Konoha. Or at least, as comfortable as he could be in a foreign ninja village. By now, he had survived at least five serious assassination attempts, a coup de etat, and a failed arranged marriage. With that in mind, anywhere else in the world Kankuro would be glued to his side. Gaara had enough friends in Konoha, though, that his brother felt comfortable letting the kage fend for himself. Kankuro could get a good visit in with his sister and nephew in the meantime. Gaara would join them later after his meeting with Kakashi. There was a rumor circulating that Konoha's most eligible bachelor was in the process of planning a wedding. That may have been why the Hokage uncharacteristically requested Gaara move his meeting with him up a few months. The Kazekage didn't mind. There was a fortunate lull in activity and the weather was more pleasant in Konoha this time of year than Suna. Not that Gaara could ever fully adjust to the humidity here-

"Gaara."

Hearing his name wasn't what stopped the Kazekage dead in his tracks. It was the voice. It was so distinct, loud and clear as the toll of a bell. There was no way he imagined it. The mounting curiosity as to its source was enough to compel Gaara to risk being late for his meeting by stopping to see who it was. He turned slowly. Gaara half expected empty pavement behind him; it wouldn't be the first time he had hallucinated that sound. Instead, his eyes ended up as shocked as his ears had been.

It was Beki.

She barely looked a day older than the last time he had seen her before the Fourth Shinobi World War. At least, in terms of age she looked no different. Beki's body was a different story. Her entire physique had atrophied; great shoulder and back muscles were now almost dainty. Her face was gaunt and her arms and legs were thin as birch branches. Her color wasn't as warm as he remembered it, either. Everything about Beki looked vulnerable. If he was being blunt he would call her frail or weak. It raised his suspicion almost as quickly as it did his empathy. Maybe she had always been this way and his memory had glorified her a bit too much. That couldn't be the case, could it?

"Long time no see," She offered. Her attempt at casual conversation was betrayed by the familiar way she shuffled awkwardly.

Gaara watched her carefully. His mind was racing. There were so many thoughts, so many words jumbling around in his head. They were fighting for first place the way rats scrambled over each other to escape a slowly filling tub. His mouth moved and his voice sounded with a dry tone:

"You died."

Without skipping a beat, Beki began to explain: "My mom and I survived in the ice. We were found an rehabilitated-"

"When?" Gaara blinked. His expression was unreadable. Just like his thoughts, Gaara's emotions were currently too at war to form a cohesive face. "How long have you been back?"

"About a year," She spoke and his face knit in confusion. A moment of silence passed between them while Gaara processed this new information. His girlfriend, who had died five years ago, came back from the dead a year ago and he never heard about it? "I figured you would have never believed it in writing," Beki said, as if sensing his thoughts. "A lot of people who saw me in person didn't believe it. For a while we were kept under constant surveillance just to be sure." Haruka shrugged. "That's how life is with my mother, though. Everything gets all out of sorts."

"Why didn't you...?" His voice trailed off as Beki moved some hair out of her face. The telltale glint on her left hand. A wedding ring. A stab of pain went through his chest like reopening an old wound. Gaara had forgotten a lot of that day, let alone that week. Perhaps it was his brain attempting to shield him. Tens of thousands of shinobi died in a war that lasted less than a week. He had to put on a good show with his optimism and leadership, taking every report of bad news in stride. There had been one side conversation, though, one brief exchange that had taken the knife in his gut and twisted it. Neji had told him Beki was dead, died in the act of saving his life. The two had been engaged. In the swirling mire of the past colliding with this moment in the present, suddenly it all made sense.

There was no reason for Beki to ever contact him again. So why was she stopping to talk to him now? Was it guilt? Beki had never had the chance to tell Gaara she had moved on, let alone that she had done so in such a short amount of time. He had been convinced he would win her back. That he could fix things. The two had been together for years and in his mind they had worked through every crisis beforehand. Gaara knew he was in love with her. Love could fix everything. Beki proved that wasn't the case. Now that she was older and had some distance from it, was it eating at her?

Gaara's first instinct was to think of it as a betrayal. To be fair, though, Beki had broken up with him. Indiscretion was probably a better word. Despite Beki's indiscretion, maybe she still considered him a friend. If what she said was true, it would make sense. To her they had only been apart for a year. A friendship that has had a year's reprieve would be easy to mend. Not on Gaara's end, though. Beki had been dead to him half a decade. Gaara had spent the better part of two years quietly grieving her. He caught himself checking the mail for an envelope from her, only to have the horrible realization that she was dead and gone forever come crashing down on him. Gaara wrote to Beki in the quiet hours of the night and early morning reminiscing, apologizing, promising things. He'd burned those letters hoping that the smoke would carry his thoughts to her. Like everything else, though, the grief passed. It dulled from unbearable pain to a throbbing ache, then an occasional stab, until at last he was numb. In that time Gaara had doubled his dedication to his job and to his people. It had been easy to close off that side of himself. Part of Gaara, the part of him that longed for a wife and a family, died with Beki. In its place, more of the Kazekage took over. It was the Kazekage that looked upon the face that had once been his future with bittersweet sadness.

"There was a lot we never got to talk about," Beki continued. "And a lot I really think we should discuss," She stole a look back at the restaurant. "I know you're busy right now, but later if you have the time we should get together. There's someone I would like you to meet."

"I'm afraid I can't, Beki," Gaara regained his composure. "Unfortunately I'm in Konoha for business reasons only. I'm unavailable for social calls.."

She blinked. "No, Gaara, if you would just-"

The look he gave her was distant, bordering on cold. "As sorry as I am for your confusing situation, I can't turn back the clock. I don't have time to wander down memory lane with you. If you thought I was busy as a kage before, it's doubly so now. I wish you and your family all the best." He turned and began to walk away only to stop after a few feet, his body jerking like a dog that had run to the end of its chain. It was quiet, almost too quiet to hear, but she heard him say: "It's been nice to see you, Beki."

As he walked away, Gaara could feel her eyes on his back. Beki's face had been hard to look at. Beki had seemed confused by his words, perhaps even hurt by them. Gaara had learned his friends had a tendency to get hurt much worse, however. When they were younger, Beki had been strong enough to take care of herself for him to let her bear that burden. The husk he had seen, however, the washed out and threadbare young woman before him had no business getting wrapped up in his life again. It could only end in Beki getting really hurt, either through being dragged through the trash magazines as his married mistress or by becoming the target of shinobi who wanted to undermine him as Kazekage. It had been hard to be so short with her. If he hadn't been Kazekage, Gaara would have dropped what he was doing to have lunch with her right then and there. Then again, if he hadn't been Kazekage, he wouldn't have needed to. It would have been his ring on her finger and Beki would be her whole hale self.

There was no point to looking back, though. Thinking about the what ifs did no earthly good and only served as painful distractions from living the life a person had. And the Kazekage had too much work to do to get distracted.

…

"Try not to be too huffy," Yuki smirked. "You'll cause a scene."

Haruka's cheeks were inflated like a puffer fish and she had sunk low in the booth. Her arms were crossed and her face was the wrath of a child sitting out of recess on a false charge. "He's lucky I didn't have a bag of flour with me."

"Nobody likes getting blown off, I get it," Yuki scratched something on her pad. "Not going to say I told you so, but…"

Haruka stuck out her tongue. "I want to recreate the hanging woods."

"Hm?" Yuki looked up.

"Remember? Those copses we would come across? The Hanged Maiden's victims?" Haruka's face was still childishly spiteful. "That. Let's make them walk through hanging, mangled bodies."

"You're angry!" Yuki grinned as she wrote it all down. "I like you when you're angry!"

Haruka snarled in response to her mother's goading. Satoru imitated his mother as best he could. He bared his sparse tiny teeth, his knit brows and bulbous baby forehead making him a much scarier opponent than his mother.

…

Kakashi's face was set with the same grim expression he had sported through both the Third and Fourth Shinobi Wars, when his opponents had been great and their deeds beyond despicable. He stood outside the haunted house. A few groups of middle school and high school aged teens hovered tentatively outside. There were whispers of "test of courage" and "being chicken". Three war veterans had been hospitalized for panic attacks. As he watched, a group of well-wishers squatted beside a trembling man, his eyes wide as he hyperventilated into a paper bag. "Yukihana," He practically hissed as he approached the entrance.

A decrepit looking old man, with long dirty nails and a spider web of hair stood watch at the entrance. At the sight of him, he stood bolt upright, straightening the hump in his back. The artfully applied makeup without the help of the wig to cast it in shadow made a poor show of hiding the youth beneath it in the broad light of day. "Hokage sama!" Konohamaru practically barked. "Welcome!"

"I forgot, you always helped with the haunted house," Kakashi sighed. "So what's the damage?"

"It's, uh, well, it's…kind of Lady Yuki's baby." Konohamaru tried to cross his arms but the long artificial nails snagged his sleeve. He nervously worked his fingers free and stood at attention instead. "I've only seen it during construction. I haven't actually done a walkthrough myself."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. "Have you not noticed the string of people being rushed out of here on stretchers?"

"They could, um, they could walk, sir," Konohamaru puffed up his chest slightly. In a sick way, Kakashi thought he saw pride in the boy's eyes for being a part of the most terrifying haunted house in their village's history. "No one got hurt."

"Who is allowed in?" Kakashi craned his neck to the side, trying to peer past the curtain into the recesses beyond.

"No one under sixteen unaccompanied," Konohamaru recited from memory. "Thirteen to fifteen if accompanied by an adult."

"So you have no idea what it is in there that's giving people panic attacks?" Kakashi stared the boy down. Konohamaru had always been very attached to Beki. If Yuki had involved her, which Kakashi knew she had, the boy was going to immediately put his loyalty to her first. However, Kakashi was the Hokage, and would pull rank if he sensed any dishonesty on Konohamaru's part.

"No sir," Konohamaru stared back, unwavering. "Everyone is afraid of something. I don't think it's one particularly scary scene."

"Then I'll have to see for myself," Kakashi shook his head. "I was stupid to trust Yuki and not do a walkthrough first."

Konohamaru stepped aside and allowed the Hokage passage. Behind the curtain it was immediately pitch black. Off to the left was a path, dimly lit by blue glowing mushrooms. It looked like a forest, with dense trees packed in close together. A slight fog was hovering up to about Kakashi's waist. He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. Yuki had taken the old warehouse and transformed it completely. It was convincing enough of a dupe that Kakashi's shinobi instincts had kicked in to dampen his footsteps. The path grew narrower and narrower until he was forced to walk sideways through the trees. There was a thud nearby, a great movement through the trees, and Kakashi froze solid. He heard something he hadn't in a long time: the growl of the Nine tailed fox. There was movement through the trees as it passed him, only to let out a thunderous bellow. Kakashi forced himself on, reminding himself this wasn't real. Perhaps that was what triggered the older shinobi, those who had fought Kurama thirty years before in circumstances very similar to this-

Kakashi's thought was cut off by something smacking into him. He reached up instinctively, holding it in place. In the dim light, a mangled mannequin hung from the tree in front of him. He pushed through into a small clearing that was packed with the things. Strung up mannequins, slightly swaying in the breeze. A girl sat crying on the floor. Kakashi stepped forward to help her only for her to scream and be ripped up into the canopy. His blood pressure only slightly elevated, Kakashi pressed on. The "forest" opened up to a "lake", or rather a pool he had to cross over a rickety wooden bridge. It creaked and wobbled as he walked in the near darkness. There was just enough light for him to perceive that the water beneath him was a sea of hair. Occasionally a limb would flail or a head would surface to gasp for breath, only to be yanked back beneath the surface.

Despite all these simulated horrors, Kakashi kept his head. He was accosted by more ghoulish scenes from Konoha's shinobi history he would rather forget. He recognized a Danzo look-alike stalking around in the dark, arm implanted sharingans in glow in the dark paint blinking at him knowingly. One of the best executed in his opinion, was the rubble wasteland and smoking ruins of Konoha post Pain's attack. Bodies were impaled on stakes and limbs were strewn in the rubble to a soundtrack of explosions and disembodied screens. He recognized Haruka flailing in a burned-out shop window. Her shrill screams were too accurate for his taste, as were the realistic smells of burning flesh, hair, and ash. He passed from there into a dimly lit cavern. As his eyes adjusted, Kakashi's knees locked as the scene before him came into focus.

...

In the next room, Yuki rocked Satoru slowly, eerily, in an old-fashioned crib. The room had been set up to look like the interior of an ancient castle. An artificial breeze swept through from time to time, rattling the panels and setting the ripped rice paper screens dancing. Yuki was dressed as Kaguya, black and white robes and a floor length white wig parted by prosthetic horns. It was from her that the unnatural chill of the haunted house originated. As the guests walked through it was designed to be that way, a subconscious mounting of pressure and cold until it reached the crescendo to a shinobi's ultimate source of dread. The presence of the rabbit goddess would cut through to the bone. It wasn't just the chill she radiated. Yuki had carefully curated the scene to be a corruption of motherhood. She hovered a little too closely to the safely swaddled Satoru; almost smothering him. Her loving gaze was too intense, almost hungry. When a guest came inside, Yuki would slow her rocking until it stopped. Satoru would begin to cry and she would stare at them hatefully until they left. After her, they would stumble through an actor-free hallway of wheelbarrows stacked high with bodies and discarded weapons. It was designed to give them a chance to wind down and warm up before reaching the safety and freedom of the festival beyond.

Footsteps approached. "We're on," Yuki cooed at her grandson. "Get those spooky little pipes of yours ready." She began to slowly rock the cradle as their guest reached the door. Through the veil of her wig Yuki saw an adult male stop dead on the ragged tatami mats in front of them. By the rise and fall of their shoulders they were already breathing heavy. Yuki paused as if finally noticing their presence and turned her attention on them. But Satoru didn't start crying. She looked down at her grandson to see his glowing white arms reaching expectantly for their guest. A true smile cracked her face makeup as she turned her too pale eyes on her fiancé.

"You!" He pointed at her, barely able to contain his rage. "That, that right there," He pointed at the cave behind him. "You did that on purpose!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Yuki spoke calmly, affecting a royal accent.

"There is not a single other living person in this village that that would upset." He folded his arms. "You knew. You knew I was going to come down here and investigate. This whole stage play is a set up to get one cheap thrill at my expense."

Yuki pursed her lips and picked Satoru up as she slowly shook her head. "Death by crushing is a common occurrence, Kakashi. It's also a fairly common fear-"

"So the fact that you dressed up your actor to look like an Uchiha, had them crushed by a single enormous boulder that took out the entire right side of their body was an utter coincidence?" Kakashi tapped his foot impatiently.

Yuki beamed mischeviously. "Now that you mention it, it does seem a little targeted, doesn't it?"

"I'm glad you find dragging me through my personal trauma enjoyable, Yuki." Kakashi stared her down unwaveringly. "Just know two can play at that game." Kakashi's eyes went wide as he cast the Mangekyo Sharingan. Yuki was suddenly on her feet, but her balance was off. She stepped down and felt the resistance of something soft beneath her. There was a yelp, instantly drawing her eye. She had stepped on Pakkun's foot. He looked up at her with an intense expression of betrayal and began to limp quickly away.

"NO!" Yuki squealed. "I'm so sorry! Please come back! Let me love you!"

But Pakkun didn't listen. As Yuki took a step forward, there was another shrill cry and a whimper. She had stepped on Bisuke's tail. His big eyes and already long face pulled into an apologetic expression as he too scurried away. She cried out his name, careful to swing her foot instead of step, catching Urushi in the side. He was completely off guard and the kick knocked him to the ground. He scrambled up onto his feet and ran away. Yuki's loving arms barely missed him as he bolted. For the next 72 hours, she stumbled around, accidentally stepping on the other hound's tails and paws. No matter what she did, Yuki hurt them. No amount of her verbal reassurances or promises of cuddles convinced them she wasn't the monster they thought her to be. Their sad howling and whimpering filled her mind, crushing her with palpable guilt, as they each scampered away like they were terrified of her. When the genjutsu finally broke, Yuki began to openly sob. Kakashi's shoulders slumped heavily from the effort of casting the genjustu. He stood there while she cried, Satoru awkwardly trying to pat her tears away. After a few moments, Kakashi cleared his throat. "Well?"

"Okay, I'm sorry," Yuki dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, blotching her makeup but somehow still making herself look scarier in the process. "Just please, don't ever do that to me again. That was traumatizing."

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Well at least we know there's a heart in there somewhere," He stalked off towards the exit. "You're raising your entry age to fifteen!"

"Fine," Yuki grumbled. "You win, you monster!"