Two days had passed since Mina broke the bathroom mirror. Since then, she spent all of her spare time reviewing the contents of the 'Hatake' dossier, as she had taken to calling it. The gloss from the photos, laid out on the coffee table in the living room, reflected the light from the window as she compiled them by age. As the light of day began to fade, it glinted off the corner of the picture frame on the shelf.

She walked over, pulling it down, and placed it in front of the pictures Samui had meticulously gathered of Kakashi, and the Hatake family photo album. Inside the protective glass was an older picture of her and Darui, from the day Mina was finally promoted to jounin. Her arms were thrown around his waist with one foot in the air. He had a soft smile, one he rarely showed in public that soon disappeared after the camera flashed. His eyes were what caught her attention—they were fixated on her, soft and loving. Even as the Raikage watched on in the background with his arms over his chest.

Darui was the future of Kumogakure. And Mina? She didn't belong here. If she left to see her brother, no doubt she would be labeled as a nuke-nin on the run from both Kumogakure and Konohagakure. But she loved Darui. She loved him enough to want to stay. On the other hand, her staying in and of itself would cause problems. No doubt, Konoha would demand her return or a ridiculous bounty in exchange for keeping her.

At the beginning of the week, the Raikage received a missive for the negotiation of terms with the Hokage. Though he had yet to announce it to the jounin council, Mina could already guess she was a major point of contention. She needed to leave before Darui realized he loved her as much as she loved him. If he realized that, he wouldn't let her go. He'd tie her to their bed every night just to keep her there, safe in his arms.

She wasn't even sure if he realized they were in a relationship. Something had changed between them in the last few weeks. His touch lingered as much as hers did. His voice was softer. She could feel his eyes follow her when she drifted away, as she did him.

Their friends were already noticing. C visited the other day and joked about her bed being made when her bed was almost always unmade at ten in the morning. Darui, on the other hand, made his bed every morning. Damn C for noticing that the side of Darui's bed furthest from the door was unmade.

The Raikage of Kumogakure could not marry a nuke-nin, or even have a nuke-nin as a lover, no matter which country claimed said nuke-nin. The Raikage of Kumogakure must have a spotless reputation with no weaknesses. The Daimyo of the Land of Lightning was an overly cautious man. He was not the kind to simply leave shinobi business to shinobi. Darui couldn't have anything to exploit that a competitor might bring to the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning. If she stayed, labeled as a Konoha nuke-nin, Darui would not be able to become the Raikage. She had to leave; and soon before she lost the strength to.

Her mind made up, Mina carefully packed away the files. She left out the latest photo of Kakashi and tucked it into the family photo album. The picture of her jounin graduation day was taken out of the frame. After hiding the empty frame beneath the couch, she went to her room. The first of the tears fell from her eyes, staining the black canvas of the photo album in her hands.

They coursed down her cheeks as she pulled her mission bag out of the closet. A broken sob escaped her lips when she packed her clothes. Books went in next, her favorite novels, all piled into the corner of the bag. The sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the small room. Her shoulders began to heave when she clipped her oversized medic kit to the top.

One more night was all she would have with Darui. She would allow herself that one indulgence before leaving, as much for his sake and her own. Taking a pair of shorts and his old t-shirt to the bathroom, she jumped in the shower. It took several gulps of air under the hot water before she was able to calm down enough to wash her face.

She let the hot water run over her back. Removing the clip from her hair, she put it on the shower ledge. Who knew the next time it would be washed? Darui had never minded sleeping with her when she was cautious of her drying curls. He was courteous enough to not miss running his fingers in her hair for a night.

After she set her curls and tied her hair in a sleeping scarf, she shoved all of the conditioners and hair products into another bag. A frivolous thing to use an expensive storage scroll for, to be sure, but it was important to her. Any sense of normalcy would be important going forward. As she stared at the packed bag on her bed, she heard the apartment door knob turn. Closing her bedroom door behind her, she padded out to greet Darui.

Stamping his feet on the welcome rug outside of their shared apartment, Darui slowly unlocked the door. Waking up the past few weeks to Mina curled against him had been everything he dreamed of. He had loved her for years, ever since they were genin. The first time he realized he loved her, they were on a mission in the Land of Frost. He had taken a shuriken to the shoulder while throwing her out of the way. Her hands were so gentle, she was so calm while healing him he felt he could take a thousand shuriken just to feel that again.

He didn't realize he was in love with her until three years ago. She was sitting on their sofa reading a medical textbook. Every so often, he would hear the scratch of her pen on the paper. He just leaned against the hallway wall and watched her. Her brow would quirk every so often, her lips moved with each word. There was an empty packet of strawberry pocky sticks on the coffee table, the crumbs left a trail of evidence over the top of her sweatshirt. Her black shinobi pants were thrown over the back of the couch. A holey blanket was over her lap that she refused to throw away. She always said it had 'sentimental value.' He needn't have bothered asking why: Killer Bee had given it to her when she was eleven.

Even with her face devoid of makeup, and her hair so frizzy it formed a halo around her head, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In this moment, she was more beautiful than when she was all dolled up. His heart stopped just observing her in that quiet moment. He felt as though he could be satisfied standing there in that hallway trapped in time. It was in that singular moment, the zenith of all the small moments before, he knew he was well and truly fucked—he loved her.

He could no longer stomach the thought of touching another woman. She was the only one he wanted, could ever want. The next morning he gave Mabui his signed request to be removed from the honeypot mission roster.

Most of all, Mina scared him. He was more terrified of losing her than he was of dying himself. He would have given anything to have taken her place at Ibiki's hands in Konoha TI. Ever since, she had been distant to everyone but him. He could feel she was holding something back, suffering in silence as she was wont to do. All he wanted was for her to see that her heart would always be safe in his keeping.

When it came down to it, he never questioned her love for him. She never had to say it. Her body told him. Her actions said more than her lips ever could, though her lips said plenty. He wasn't even sure if she realized that they were more than friends—that his heart belonged to her as much as hers belonged to him. Every night over the last few weeks they made love. Both of them were far too sweet and slow compared to their normal debauchery. Their caresses against the other's bare skin were electrifying and calming at once. When she touched him, his soul was complete with the return of its other half.

Soft footsteps padded across the carpeted living room toward him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Darui?" Mina asked.

Her hair was wet from the shower, already set in drying ringlets and bound in a silk scarf. The soft vanilla-lavender scent of her hair product fogged his mind when he took her into his arms. She placed a warm palm on his cheek that he slowly nuzzled—he had long learned this was a sort of deep instinctual affection for her. Now they knew why; it was an instinct borne of a blood contract with the Hatake pack.

Her brow furrowed when he didn't say anything. "Hey, are you okay?"

Without saying a word, he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Moving to his room with quick strides, he laid her on the bed.

"You're scaring me, Darui. What's wrong?" she tried again, sitting up. Her worried hands moved his arms, checking carefully for any sort of injury. Her chakra soothed his mind when she tried to feel for a genjutsu.

He kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"Darui—"

Her lips were sweet, reminding him of the honey she always took with her tea, when he kissed her into silence.

"Mina," he started pulling back and gazing into her eyes. "I love you."

She began to interrupt and he kissed her again, placing his hands on her hips.

"I am in love with you. Have been in love with you." He could feel her muscles begin to relax beneath his hands as he stroked her waist. Secretly, he couldn't help but be pleased. He didn't expect her to tell him she loved him. All he wanted was for her to accept his love.

"You don't have to say it back. I'll wait until you're ready."

She nodded, leaning in to kiss him. Her fingers massaged his scalp, causing his mind to blank. He held her head in his hand, supporting her as she told him without words that she loved him too. He didn't need to hear it. He felt it in her kiss. It was a surrender, as much as it was a claim.

Her pulse raced underneath his lips as he sucked down, sure to leave his mark. He was the only person she ever bared her neck for. She drunkenly admitted it during the New Years Festival, or rather afterward. Anyone else got a swift punch to the gut for trying. Whenever she left his marks for the next day, he felt a small sense of male pride, knowing she could have healed them if she wanted to. She always erased the marks other men left on her body, but never his.

The way her arms hung around his neck with her lips against his throat made heat bloom in the pit of his stomach. He vaguely noticed she was wearing his clothes again, the baggy t-shirt did nothing to hide the shape of her breasts, only the length of her shorts. Her nipples pebbled underneath his touch when he strummed his thumb across the thin fabric covering them.

She sighed, her breath hitching when he repeated the action. Grabbing the hem of the t-shirt, he slowly pulled it off her. He placed his hands on her upper back, lifting her chest to his mouth. He could feel her heart hammer beneath her sternum as he lazily kissed his way down the valley of her breasts, allowing his lips to linger with every movement. Her skin was soft, still damp from the shower. The vanilla-coconut lotion she used lingered in his nose.

"Darui," she gasped out as he moved his hands down her body, holding her up to his lips.

She was his goddess, and he was here to worship at her altar, kissing his way down the scars she hated and proving to her with every touch that her soul was as beautiful as her body. Though she may call him master in bed, it was her who owned his soul, his heart, his body, his very mind. He was there, willingly put under her siren's spell.

He knew her body better than his own. He knew how to make her flush from her face to the tops of her breasts. He knew how to leave her a panting mess, begging for his touch.

He wrapped his tongue around her nipple, gently drawing it in and sucking. Her hands flew to the back of his head, keeping him in place as he sucked harder. She whispered his name again as reverently as a prayer, begging him to continue.

"Let go. I'll take care of you," he murmured, switching to her other breast. He could feel her heartbeat echoing in her back. His own anticipation almost took him out, but this night was for her. She released his head, leaning her head back, completely surrendering to his will. Her small hands gently massaged his shoulders. Tension flowed out of him under her touch.

By the time he pulled away, her nipples reminded him of raspberries by the time. He then directed his attention to her abdomen. He could almost imagine her swelling with their child, someday, perhaps—if the fates were kind. He had never truly given it much thought. But there in the quiet of their bedroom he couldn't deny the appeal. Even the best gynecologist in Kumo couldn't guarantee she was completely infertile after her childhood injuries. She still performed the birth control jutsu, just in case. In any case, he would still be happy and content to have this woman in his arms for the rest of their lives, even if it was just them.

He raised his head to meet her lips with his. Kissing her softly, gently, he brushed his palm across her cheek to meet her soft gray eyes.

"I love you, Mina," he repeated, taking her lips again.

The muscles in her side quivered beneath his touch. He carelessly threw his shirt to the back of the room. Placing his hand on her chest, he pushed her back down to the bed. Her skin always reminded him of fine silk as he dragged his fingers down her legs, removing her shorts. He didn't think about removing the panties that weren't there, she never wore them in their home.

She had small ankles he had teased her about a few times. He liked to wrap his hands around them while ghosting his lips up her inner calf. Predictably, she would gasp out by the time he reached her knee. He massaged her calf muscles with the firm touch he knew would make her moan softly.

It was almost obscene how small she was when he compared them. She was always larger than life to him. Her presence always filled the room. Only in moments like this, with his hand completely around her calf, did he stop to appreciate it. He could take the time to appreciate her reactions. Lightning erupted from his fingers, landing soft sparks on her inner thigh. He liked to see her muscles jump in response, fluttering around his touch. Arousal shimmered against her sex in the dim light of their room, her breath turned ragged the closer he got to his prize.

As much as he wanted to see her come against his lips, this wasn't the time for that. They both needed their souls to connect more than they needed release. With a long stroke of his tongue to part her lower lips, and a hard suck on her clit, he released her. She called out his name again in question, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

He reluctantly moved off her and yanked his pants off, kicking them to the edge of the room. She watched him with soft eyes as he sat down next to her. Her hand stroked his upper thigh when she sat up. The soft lips against the side of his neck made his heart pound in his chest while she traced the tattoo on his bicep with the tip of her finger.

"Cold?" she asked, laying open-mouthed kisses along the side of his arm. She looked up with a mischievous gaze as goosebumps sprung against her touch.

"Come here," he whispered, reaching over and tugging her onto his lap. He crossed his legs underneath her, reveling in the feel of her inner thighs against his hips, her feet against his back. He leaned over to grab a condom from the nightstand. She laid her hand on his, stopping him, pulling his knuckles against her lips.

"Just you and me?" she asked, resting her arms around his neck.

"Just you and me," he agreed, helping her lift up. She reached down, positioning him at her entrance before slowly sliding onto his cock.

Her breath was hot against the side of his neck, and she gasped out when she reached the bottom. She felt far too good to him. He swore he could come without moving a single muscle, being inside of her was enough. Her eyes never wavered from his, and he felt as though he could see her whole soul bared.

A small shudder, hers or his own, he wasn't sure, prompted him to wrap them both up in the quilt at the end of their bed. They moved languidly in tandem. Minutes passed, or hours, time was meaningless, as he was locked in her embrace with his lips on hers, their hearts in sync.

Her pupils dilated, her inner muscles began to spasm, and he brushed his palm across her cheek. He sipped her lips once, twice. Her thighs tightened around his hips, he palmed her ass to move her closer.

"Let go, baby, I'll catch you," he reminded quietly, kissing her once more with his thumb drawing slow circles over her clit. Only when he felt her release did he finally allow himself to give into his own need. She shuddered again, a soft moan against his neck. He couldn't help but muse that she preferred quiet orgasms. Loud screaming orgasms were a sort of punishment for her sensitive ears at times when he needed to hear her scream, to reassure himself she was alive.

He deepened their kiss, fully giving into every sensation.

"Darui—" she murmured, moving her lips along his throat. Her body was relaxed against his in the haze of its satisfaction. Her fingers laced into his hair, she gazed into his eyes and watched as he came inside of her. His eyes rolled back and his motions stilled. Soft lips against his jaw brought him back to the present. He kissed her again, their tongues intertwined with one another.

When they were finally laying down on their sides, chest to chest, he kissed her forehead. She felt perfect against him, tucked underneath his chin. The knot from the silk scarf on top of her head was cool against his skin. Wisps of curls had escaped its confines, tickling his throat.

He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her up to his lips.

His eyes meeting hers, he whispered, "I love you, Mina." His words seemed to echo off the bedroom walls when her hand caressed his cheek. A single tear fell down her face that he stroked away with his thumb. More tears welled in her eyes as she returned his gaze. He repeated, "I love you, Kaminari Hatake."

The tears fell in earnest, coating his lips and cheeks as she kissed him. Her hands threaded through his hair, he felt every bit of pent up passion as she moved against him. The clock on his bedside table clicked quietly as they became one, allowing their love to flow between them until the small hours of the morning.

Konohagakure

The sheets smelled more like sweat than lavender oil. Though it had been more than a week since he returned from another C-rank mission, Kakashi grimaced. They would have to be washed soon. Obito grunted, his cruel hand pushing Kakashi's face into the bed. He was always rough, lately. There was seldom gentleness in Obito's touch. In the last two months any tenderness that had been there was lost like a puff of smoke on the wind.

Obito kept a firm grip in Kakashi's hair, yanked his head up and licked a long line from Kakashi's shoulder to his earlobe.

"Who owns you?" Obito demanded, thrusting once more. His clothed thighs slapped against Kakashi with every movement. Kakashi's neck was yanked back painfully in Obito's unyielding grasp.

"I said. Who owns you?" Obito demanded again, with a long stroke on Kakashi's cock.

Kakashi grunted, trying to resist the call of his own orgasm. Against his will, his body responded to Obito's.

"You do," he finally surrendered, allowing himself to finish in Obito's fist. "You do."

Without saying a word, Obito forced Kakashi's face back into the sheets below. They were far too soft; their contrast was another reminder of Obito's newfound aggression. Another hard thrust, and he could feel Obito soften against him. Kakashi collapsed against the mattress without Obito to hold him up. He could hear the jingle of Obito's belt behind him. The man hadn't even bothered to take his pants off before fucking him.

Getting back to his bed, Kakashi laughed bitterly. "Running out already?"

Obito simply raised an eyebrow. "I have obligations."

"It's 2 a.m.," Kakashi retorted.

He said nothing and walked out the door, leaving Kakashi naked on the bed.

The October breeze did nothing to quell Obito's anger as he walked down the uneven cobblestone streets of Konoha. Rage was the only emotion he felt anymore. Dew was already on the grass, soaking into the edges of his cloak and pants as he walked to the Uchiha shrine. Nobody would question why he was here. Nobody ever did. They merely chalked it up to another quirk. He had gained many of them since he was 'found' by an ANBU squad all those long years ago.

As the slammed door to the shrine echoed in the night, he yanked up the hidden trap door beneath the tatami mats. Frost coated the cellar walls, creeping to the floor above. It was little work to activate the privacy seals he had long begged Minato to teach him.

Obito crossed his arms over his chest and waited. The wall shuddered as a murky figure grew from the roots that penetrated the building's foundation.

"Zetsu!" Obito barked when the creature took far too long to emerge.

"Master," Zetsu greeted when he fully corporealized.

With a hand over his chest, Zetsu bowed. Zetsu's presence reminded Obito of a sickly swamp creature; his malodorous chakra brushed against him like a decaying vine wrapping around his heart, hardening him, and poisoning his mind. What Zetsu didn't know was that his heart was buried with Rin. There was nothing left to poison.

Here before him was an excellent target for all of the stored fury and malice that Obito had kept carefully locked away for the past six months since the last time he saw Zetsu. Without further thought, Obito dragged Zetsu into the kamui dimension.

"Tell me why Kaminari Hatake is alive and no one thought to report it to me?" he said menacingly. He flashstepped to Zetsu, wrenched him by the throat and threw him to the ground. The floor cracked in a myriad of webs underneath Zetsu from the sheer force.

Zetsu croaked, clutching Obito's wrist. "We didn't think it pertinent to our plans."

Obito released a humorless laugh. "Of course. You're incapable of thinking."

"Master, how does one kunoichi medic fit into our plans?"

"Silence," Obito ordered. His deep voice echoed. Zetsu trembled where he stood. "Your orders are to follow her. Report her whereabouts. I want to know everything she does. Who she is friends with. And if the opportunity presents itself, end her. Be sure Konoha hears the news. All the better if there are witnesses to her demise."

Zetsu bowed again in acquiescence as the dimension disappeared around him.

Obito was left alone in the cellar, his burden lightened.

"Run while you can, Mina-chan. You'll be back in your grave soon enough," he promised in the dark room.

AN: Thank you so much for reading! If you have the time, please leave a comment!

Obito has finally made an appearance. I honestly love this version of Obito as much as I do all puppies and love Obito. They're both a lot of fun. What'd you guys think?

Beta'ed by: CherryBerry12