When he was an infant, the most defenseless and needing time in his life, she was not even a whiskful thought swimming around her parent's heads.
When she was an infant, he was trudging through thick forests with, in his opinion, a crybaby Uchiha, an infatuated medic, and his over enthusiastic sensei, headed off to war.
When he was in the academy, she still ceased to exist. He went everyday training hard to become the shinobi he knew he'd be. His mother always congratulated him on his excellent marks and perfect attendance.
When she was in the academy, he had already failed atleast three other genin groups. He spent his days reading or walking around, atleast when he wasn't on a potentially life threatening mission.
When he was a Genin, he wasn't yet six years old. He could aim kunai with the percision of a jounin and found his speed unmatchable even then.
When she was a Genin, he first met her. He found her to be a suck up, and a bit annoying if you asked him. She wasn't of much use to the team, but had the will to fight and learn when she wasn't staring at Sasuke. She had excellent chakra control, a sign of hope and the first notions of her hidden talents.
When he was a Chuunin, he was six years old, the world growing colder in his dark eyes every day. His mother had passed away from illness just a few months pervious. In the near future, his father commited seppuku after disgracing himself. It was the first time he wore a mask.
When she was a Chuunin, he wasn't around much. She toned and strengthened her skills and body, keeping her hair cut short. It suited her. He took every mission he could, finding he could no longer keep his time unnocupied, as the boredness was creeping in. He considered ANBU once more. He'd be a captain again, so that was okay.
When he was a Jounin, he finally realized the meaning of teamwork, and it only took a death to convince him. Soon after, he found himself alone. His didn't curse his father anymore, nor did he sacrifice his team. He would die for his comrades.
When she was a Jounin, he spent more time with her. He trained her in ways the Godaime could not specialize. He added to her repoirtoire of Jutsu. He improved her Taijutsu and endurance. He pushed her to her limits. He carried her home when she could no longer stand.
When she came to his apartment one dark night, the sky pouring forth tears of rain, on the brink of tears herself, he accepted her in. When she told him her parents had died, both of them killed by bandits on their way to the next village over, he'd let her wrap her arms around him and bury her tears into his shirt. When she'd fallen asleep on his lap while he absently stroked her hair and read his book, he'd picked her up carefully and gently laid her on his bed. As she woke the next morning, she'd found him asleep on the couch. She left silently, leaving him with a note of thanks and a kiss on the cheek.
When a few weeks passed, and their time in eachother's company grew, he found himself confused. When she wasn't around him, his chest ached, as if Chouji had fallen asleep atop him. He'd wanted her company. When she was mere inches away from him, laughing in reply to something he said, his chest ached still. He wanted to touch her. When she would fall asleep with her head on his shoulder beneath a large, sweeping tree after a particularly hard day of training, his chest ached even more, and he began cursing himself. He wanted to kiss her.
When one dark night illuminated by fireworks in the sky came, and she suggested the well known tradition of new year's eve herself, he finally kissed her and she merely laughed. He'd looked puzzled, like a lost child, and her laughter had grown even more. She told him with a faint blush hidden by the darkness, that she was to kiss the man, not the mask. He knew she couldn't see much in the intense darkness, a few pink, blue or red lights tinting the atmoshpere now and then, but never enough to make out features. So, in keeping with tradition, he pulled his mask down and surprised her with his agreeance. She hadn't expected him to comply so quickly. He pressed his lips to her hesitantly at first, before she reacted, kissing him back softly. He hadn't expected the kiss to deepen beyong that, but sometimes he was caught off guard.
As he kissed her in the darkness, he found his chest aching even more than ever. He was even more confused now than ever. When would this persistent tightness in his chest leave? He'd already kissed her! But then he knew why his chest would never stop aching, whether she was an inch away from him or a mile, even if he held her tightly and refused stubbornly to let her go. He loved her.
When he pulled back, only because he feared they might pass out without some air, he found his hands doing something they'd never done. Not even when he had to throw a senbon to a certain point on a person's body in ANBU to kill them, the mission going down if he missed, did his hands ever shake. But this pink haired woman before him made his hands shake with just a simple kiss. He knew he couldn't keep pretending now that the realization had hit him. He couldn't.
When he'd whispered that cold, dark night, the three words that could potentially ruin his friendship with her, he'd found himself liable to pass out. He feared the worst when she sat there, staring at his dark form sitting beside her in the grass, silent and wide eyed no doubt. He assumed she'd rejected, until he found himself pushed backwards quite roughly. His eyes widened when she kissed him gently before a soft smile graced his handsome features.
When she returned those three words in all, he'd felt as if he could die right there, and the only thing that could trouble him was that he'd never get to touch her or kiss her again.
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KakaSaku Forever!