AN: So, it's been three months since my last chapter. I wish I could promise you that won't happen again, but honestly? I can't. I'll try though, I can give you that much.

As usual, all your amazing comments has really made me happy, and I love hearing your thoughts. I'm sorry I'm bad at answering them. I've also really enjoyed seeing some of you on Tumblr.

You are the best readers in the world, and I'm so grateful you're with me in this. That goes for each and every one of you. I know sometimes it's hard to find the words to comment, or the energy, and this is a shoutout to anyone feeling like that: IT'S OKAY! I don't want you to feel pressured, I'm just glad you're here.

I love you all and just hope this story can offer something you need right now, whatever that is.

Lots of hugs!

/thosepreciouswalls

Izakaya Thursday is a tradition established a long time ago, by team Ro, that has grown and changed but survived the years. Somewhat, since it's no longer every Thursday, and is sometimes held on other weekdays. Kakashi's only been to them twice since he got back, but today is not optional.

Gai is in the genkan when they enter, his voice loud in the cramped area. "Rival!" he calls out, "I see you rose to my challenge and decided to show!"

Kakashi slips off his shoes, puts them on a shelf, and steps up onto the floor. He wants things to be normal between them, but they're not. There's something off in Gai's energetic attitude, something twisting in Kakashi's stomach as he drawls out an excuse about Genma and his threat of poisoned senbon. On the surface, nothing changed (except for the damned wheelchair), but Kakashi can't manage to put his heart into the banter. It doesn't seem like Gai can either.

Having finally untied and stowed away her own shoes, Hermione looks from Kakashi to Gai to the twenty-centimetre height difference in floor level. "Do you need help with that?" she asks Gai, saving Kakashi from answering the latest retort.

For a second Kakashi fears Gai will take offence, but Gai only laughs. Kakashi allows himself to grin behind his mask. His friend might be stuck in a wheelchair, but he's not one to let anything life throw at him hold him back. "What a polite and generous mindset, my youthful new friend!" Gai says, the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. "But fear not, this chair is only a matter of convenience; I can get by perfectly fine without it." In fact, Kakashi suspects Tsunade literally beat the notion of walking solely on hand or crutches out of Gai sometime during his convalescence.

"Oh," Hermione says, reddening, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume…" Gai cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a wide smile.

"You've got nothing to worry about," he says. "It's quite natural for a civilian such as yourself to view the lack of working legs as a greater hindrance than it is for a shinobi."

Having finished folding and securing his legs, Gai reaches for the short sort-of-crutches that he keeps stored under his seat. Leaning forward he smoothly lifts himself into a handstand on the crutches, balances his weight on one hand, and uses the other to fold up his chair and lean it against the wall. Before redistributing his weight again, he gives Hermione a nice guy pose. Kakashi thinks about telling him it's debateable whether he's doing thumbs up or down, but decides against it. Hermione's wide eyes and slack jaw are too hilarious to take his focus off.

"Are you coming?" Kakashi asks Hermione as Gai has stepped up on the dais and waits beside him.

"I…" she shakes her head. "Yes, of course."

.oOo.

It's impossible not to think about Terry Pratchett. Hermione wonders how he'd feel about someone speaking with as many exclamations marks as Gai. They are singular ones, at least; nowhere near five in a row.

The restaurant is small, with dark wood and whitewashed walls, seats lined up by the bar on one side and a few tables on the other. "At home," Gai says next to her, "I usually walk on my hands, but not when I'm out. Hygiene is a most important virtue!"

Hermione laughs. "Yeah," she agrees, "I don't even want to put my bag down on most public restroom floors, so I get you."

They're reaching the corner table holding vaguely familiar faces. Tenzō, Kurenai, Genma; they reintroduce themselves. Hermione already remembered, but appreciates the gesture none the less. "Are we waiting for anyone else?" Kakashi asks casually, flipping open the menu, then raises an eyebrow. "And can someone tell me why we're at a restaurant specializing in tempura?"

The last word is accompanied by a sharp look in Genma's direction, but it's Tenzō who answers. "Maa senpai," he says, saccharine sweet, "just because you don't like it, you shouldn't deny Hermione the experience."

"What is tempura?" Hermione finds the space to ask, eyeing the menu herself.

"A kind of batter for frying things in," Kurenai says, then turns to Kakashi "and don't you worry; there's rice, and probably some children's options for you. Also, no one else showing is up-"

"Which you know," Genma cuts in, "since they were magically assigned shifts today."

"Surely," Kakashi cocks his head, "you are aware Tsunade-sama discontinued the tradition of the Hokage's presence at the Missions Assignment Desk?" Slouching back into his seat, Kakashi tilts his head back, hair brushing the wall behind him. "I," he says, stressing the word, "obviously have no intention to change that."

"Nice try!" Gai says. "But we all see through the uncaring charade my rival! You are simply worried your dear friend will be overwhelmed. It's good to see such blatant affection in you!" Beside Hermione Kakashi literally sputters, choking on the water he just took a sip off.

As Tenzō hits Kakashi between the shoulder blades (harder than necessary and wholly unhelpful by the way Kakashi battles away his hand), Kurenai seizes the opportunity. "So," she says, her red eyes turning to Hermione, "tell us about you." Her smile is soft, inviting, and it lights her eyes up in a way that luckily take all likeness to Voldemort out of them.

Kurenai, Hermione finds out, is easy to talk to. She has a curiosity that feels genuinely interested, and while she has a tongue sharp enough to cut paper, she puts it to use with precision. When asked about how she ended up in the desolate corner of the world where she met Kakashi, Hermione finds herself shrugging.

"I don't know," Hermione says, trying to decide what to say. "I guess it was more about leaving than going somewhere particular." Kurenai tilts her head. "I was just sick of university," Hermione explains, "and the people there. If I was going to take a sabbatical and work, a change of scenery sounded tempting." She hasn't lied, only left some details out.

"Well," Kurenai says, seemingly unfazed by the candour, "I guess this should definitely count as a change in scenery."

"Or it would," Genma adds, smirking around the rice he shovels into his mouth, "if you didn't spend all of it locked up inside with that idiot there. I mean I get that you've missed each other, but come on."

"Both the architecture and interior design is vastly different here compared to England," Kakashi says behind his book. "There's plenty to experience indoors."

"The bedroom for example," Hermione can't help but mention, watching Genma's smile freeze. "You have these futons, on the floor, which –"

"Okay," Genma breaks in, just like Hermione guessed he would, "let's stop right there. My dear friend Tenzō has a rather weak constitution, we don't want to scar him, do we?" He slings an arm around Tenzō, who elbows him in the side.

Hermione smiles. Leans her head against a hand propped on the table. For all that it's a complicated subject when dealt with seriously, Hermione rather enjoys when people try to push her out of her comfort zone like this. When they think that she'll be easy to make uncomfortable. Seeing them realize their mistake always leaves her with a vindicated sense of victory. "What?" she blinks at Genma, "you started it, aren't you going to see it through?"

"I don't think I like you." Genma crosses his arms over his chest but fails to completely kill his smile.

"Don't worry," Gai says, winking, "my dear old teammate is never this rude to people he dislikes."

"Go on," Genma says, "sell me out, will you?"

.oOo.

Kakashi listens to Hermione questioning his friends about how they all know each other. He contributes too, every now and then, when he feels like he can keep up. It's not something he remembers from before; this difficulty following the rapid discussion, processing what's being said, and figuring out what how he should respond before the others have moved on. Did they always talk this fast? Jump between subject and throw around hidden insults with such ease? Did Kakashi use to be the same?

Brain damage, a voice in his head whispers, and after an hour in this busy environment Kakashi can feel the truth in Hermione's words.

Not that it matters a great deal. He was never the life of the party, and while his comebacks could be both quicker and wittier Hermione make up for his slack. It's just strange, this sensation of being a distant observer to something he usually would enjoy. In a company he would have sought out not that long ago. These are supposed to be his closest friends, and for minutes at a time Kakashi feels like he doesn't know them at all.

Gai is trying to rope him into their next challenge. Having gone with rock-paper-scissors one time too many in the last months, Kakashi considers tic-tac-toe.

"No way," Hermione protests as he says this, "what about me?"

"We could make it a tournament if you want to play so bad."

Kakashi knows, of course, that's not what she meant at all. When she swipes at his head he doesn't bother ducking out of the way. It wouldn't hurt him even if he were civilian, and the curling of Kurenai's lips, the twitch of Tenzō's eyebrows; it shows him they read into it exactly what he wants them to. "Ma Hermione," he tells her, "civilized people can handle their feelings and solve conflicts in a non-violent matter." The unimpressed look he gets in response makes it hard not to smile. Kakashi turns to Gai instead.

"Kunai," he says. "Training ground 12, tomorrow, two o'clock."

"See," Hermione threads her arm around Kakashi's, leans her head against his shoulder, "that wasn't so hard, and much more entertaining for me."

The weight of her head, her ribcage expanding against the outside of Kakashi's arm, the way her hair tickles against his ear; none of it is new. It's familiar by now, but unexpected like this. In company of others. Kakashi thinks he likes it none the less, it grounds him, makes it easier to stay with the conversation as he raises an eyebrow and looks down on her. "Who said you could come?" he asks.

"Gai?" Hermione sits up, "can I come?"

Gai nods with his usual levels of enthusiasm. "Of course, my newest friend! It would be a pleasure." His smile is wide enough that his teeth glints.

.oOo.

Hermione has only asked Kakashi if he's okay with her butting in like this three times. Maybe four, if she counts yesterday evening as well. When he points out she needs to stop worrying about his choices she only apologizes, like, twice. Which makes her feel even more ridiculous and annoying, and they're hardly past lunchtime.

"Do you trust me?" Kakashi asks, as he's sorting through a set of kunai on the kitchen table.

"Yes," Hermione looks up from her crossword. "Of course. With my life." She wants to ask what brought the question on, but at the same time isn't sure she wants to know.

"But not with mine?" Kakashi counters, setting the blade he's holding down at the end of a perfectly straight row and folding his hand in his laps. "Is that it?"

"What? You're perfectly able to take care of yourself. I know that." The grip of the pen has a small ledge and Hermione can't stop picking at it, digging her fingernail into the soft material.

"So, it's just my opinion on you then?" Kakashi's gaze is steady, but awfully head-on. Hermione looks away. Why couldn't she have stopped before it came to this? She should have just kept herself in check.

He's clearly calling her out, pointing out the flaws of her logic, is probably gearing up for some speech about how she should trust him all the way already. How her self-doubt and endless questions are irritating. Or worse; exhausting. Hermione puts her pencil down. Wraps her arms around herself. Catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

"Listen," Kakashi says, and Hermine steels herself. Nods. Turns in his direction. Prepares to apologize. Again. Then swallows back any words before they can form. She doesn't meet his eyes, watches the back of his hand as he rubs his eyebrows. "I…" he sighs. Rubs the hand over the mask this time. "I'm still not very good at this, you know." Despite the churning in her stomach, the words draw a smile to Hermione's lips.

"Anyway," Kakashi continues, "what I'm trying to say here is two things: First, you don't have to worry about being you. You are great. And I will tell you if you do something that bothers me." Hermione opens her mouth, intending to get that apology out, but Kakashi holds up a finger. "Second," he says. "I know you don't believe that. Which is fine. I understand that me saying something doesn't magically change it. I wish things were different, but they're not, so you should know you can ask."

"Ask what?" Hermione can guess, but doesn't quite dare to. Kakashi's words are too open for interpretation.

Kakashi cocks his head. Narrows his eyes slightly. "About whatever worries you," he says. It's not a very good answer. That's an awfully big category of things. Hermione does understand the point, however.

On the wall behind Kakashi is a painting of some kind of ancient fighting scene between two longhaired ninja. Hermione should probably be watching Kakashi, but can't make herself more than glance his direction. "I don't want to be a bother," she tells him. "I mean, I get that it gets exhausting, all these questions and insecurities."

It's not like she doesn't know she gets hang-ups.

She's painfully aware she's nagging.

"I don't even… that's…" Kakashi closes his eyes as he breathes in through his nose. A glance shows there's tension to his jaw, like he's fighting back anger. "Okay," he says, opening his eyes, "one thing at a time. You–" he holds the pause until Hermione meets his eyes – "are not a bother. Do I sometimes wish you wouldn't ask the same thing over and over? Yes. But that's because I wish you'd understand it for your sake, not because it's annoying me. The only thing I have a problem with is you feeling you need to apologize to me for any of this."

"I'm so-" Kakashi raises an eyebrow. Hermione swallows. Tries to get the lump in her throat to not affect her voice. She's not sure she can trust what she thinks he's saying. "It's just," she points out, "you've got enough on your plate without me adding to it."

For what feels like an eternity Kakashi only breathes. Hermione knows she messed up, only not how, exactly, so she doesn't dare try to fix it. He might be angry, or hurt, or something else entirely, and each of those needs different approaches.

"So, you're saying my moments of weakness back in England was hurting you?" Kakashi finally asks.

"No of course not, that's…"

"Not different at all, is it?" Kakashi shrugs; a small, aborted motion. "Except for the fact that there was the acute trauma of an attack in your life." The words are sharp, and Hermione can't tell in which way, and she's reminded of a conversation long ago, in Iceland, when he was angry with her. Only he's wrong this time, he's got it all backwards.

"But I'm just fretting right now," she tries to explain, "it's probably PMS and..."

"And I'm just tired."

"But," Hermione reaches for words that are crashing around like pixies. "I'm supposed to be here to help out, not dump more things on you or make things harder by alienating people."

Kakashi's head twitches back and he blinks. "Is that what you think?" he asks.

"On which one?" None of what Hermione said should be unclear. Of course, she's here to help him. Of course, her being difficult and culturally inappropriate is making Kakashi's life difficult. At least the confusion takes the edge of the burning in her eyes, makes it easier to speak around the lump in her throat.

"Does the answers differ?" Kakashi sounds like he picks his words carefully. His pupils keep fluttering from side to side as he changes which of Hermione's eyes he's looking at.

Hermione shrugs. "Not really."

"Fuck." It's not a word Kakashi's meant to use. It's not a word Hermione thinks she's ever heard him use before. At least not like this. With it, he bows his head, entangles fingers in silver strands and presses his palms against his forehead. When he turns back to her it is with pinpointed focus, a stillness in his body that Hermione has learnt to recognize. "I'd want you here if you'd lie on the couch for the whole time," he says, every word carefully pronounced. "It doesn't sound like you, but I wouldn't have minded. It's… I don't need you to accommodate me, and I don't need an assistant. Or I do, but it won't be you. The only reason I want you here is for your company."

Shame washes through Hermione. Draws her eyes down on the magazine in front of her. She knows this, right? It's not like she actually thinks Kakashi only invited her to be useful, does she? Why would she put that on him? It's not like she's here out of a sense of compensation for things he's done for her. She'd wanted to see him, a lot, and he'd offered a reason, and she has no idea what she's doing. "I'm sorry," she finally gets out. "I just… I don't even know."

Hermione's hands rest on the table below her, and she sees Kakashi reaching for her, covering her hands with one of his. It's cool, and a little clammy. The thumb runs the length of Hermione's index finger. Closing her eyes, Hermione swallows. A finger taps her wrist.

"You what? Just momentarily forgot that you are intelligent and funny and caring?" Kakashi says. In contrast to his hand his voice is dry but warm. Tears are pooling in Hermione's eyes now. Cling to her lashes. "You just have been taught that some of your best traits are things you need to change? Or you just have a bad habit of thinking you need to be of service for others to like you?"

For someone calling themselves bad at emotional stuff, Kakashi sure has a creepy ability to put words to feelings Hermione didn't even know she had. He did it that night of the wedding, and he's doing it again now. People have always found uses for her school smarts and her willingness to help. Not only the fake friends from university, but her real friends as well. It's not something she's ever challenged, mainly because it's not something she minds. Her friends are important to her, she cares about them and wants to stand by them. Also, if she's not clearly on plus, then she might be one of the people who takes more than they get. She might fall over the other side and become selfish. It's hard to trust her friendships will last through that.

And then along comes Kakashi, and states out loud that he wants nothing but her company. That he finds her intelligent. Funny. That she needs to stop and risk becoming a receiver instead of knowing she's a giver. What is she meant to answer to that?

The thin magazine paper darkens where a tear hits it, the ink smudging slightly. It'll be crinkled there later. On the opposite side of the sheet as well, where she hasn't filled the letters in yet.

"Now you've made me cry," Hermione points out, looking up, swiping at her tears. "That means you owe me a hug."

Kakashi's hand on hers doesn't disappear. Instead, he takes it as he stands up, rounds the table and uses it to pull her to her feet. The flak jacket is hanging over one of the chairs, allowing Hermione to lean her head against a bony shoulder. It smells like safety and dust, warmth and sun heated skin. Her crying is a silent thing for once; tears falling without much snotty sobbing. Hermione's not certain she prefers it like this.

There's a hand resting at the nape of Hermione's neck. As Kakashi pulls their upper bodies slightly apart Hermione expects it to withdraw, but it remains. Kakashi's irises have little spots in them, darker than the surrounding grey, and Hermione is suddenly indescribably grateful for his mask. It stops her from doing something really, really stupid and destructive. Like kissing him.

The intrusive thought itself is like a punch to the gut, but Hermione bites down on the side of her tongue and pushes it away. Under the mask Kakashi's lips move slightly before he finds his words. "Look," he says, pausing to clear his throat, "you might clash with some of the norms here. But what does it matter in the end? It's not like you told me to conform and stop being who I am to better fit into your world, and I ended up in a huge discussion with all of your friends about the morality of killing people."

"But…" Hermione tries, the single word scraping its way out of her. Kakashi shakes his head, the movement no more than an inch of displacement.

"If my other friends don't appreciate you, that's their problem. I like you, and I want you here, insecurities and all, so stop apologizing for it."

Time's ticking, Hermione thinks in the silence after Kakashi's words. Three months is the plan, and she's got a return ticket booked already. Maybe she should have waited with that, allowed herself the possibility of dragging it out a few days, maybe a week. Not that it can be changed now, but it's a strong reason to enjoy this while it lasts.

None of that are things she wants to remind Kakashi of. Instead, she bumps her forehead against his, misjudging slightly and hitting with enough force it almost hurts. "Aren't you supposed to be bad at this?" she asks. Kakashi smiles, raises an eyebrow, and Hermione can tell his voice will be paper dry before he opens his mouth.

"Clearly, I am," he says, "or I wouldn't have to spell it out like this." He looks away for a second, eyes narrowing and chin setting into something strained. "I know I'm a mess, alright, and I somehow missed how that made you think you don't matter."

Hermione reached up with a hand, uses two fingers against Kakashi's chin to guide his eyes back to hers. "That's not it at all," she says, giving him a small smile, "but you have it worse right now."

The explanation makes him huff out something that's almost a laugh. "If me feeling like shit meant everyone else was fine, I'd gladly feel this way for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that." He thugs lightly at a strand of Hermione's hair. "Besides, you hate when people tiptoe around you."

That, if anything, is an argument Hermione can't dispute. She doesn't, after all, care much for hypocrites.

.oOo.

They're half an hour late for the meeting with Gai, but he's not there yet. Hermione looks around the training ground as Kakashi leans against a three. "Do you think he left?" Hermione asks. Kakashi laughs, deeply and with ease, and any remaining anxiety Hermione feels after their earlier conversation washes away. "What?"

"We're not late," Kakashi studies the patchwork of green above him, "we're early. Ten minutes, at the very least."

"You told him two o'clock," Hermione reminds him.

Kakashi hums. "I also told you no one but you would describe me as punctual."

"Seriously?" There is a fuzzy memory, somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind, of Kakashi saying something similar. It just never crossed her mind that he might have meant it.

Kakashi's right hand come to rest on his chest, and he widens his eyes. "It wounds me you didn't believe me the first time," he says. "When has I ever lied to you?"

"Well," Hermione makes sure he sees her grin, her raised eyebrows, the shrugging gesture she does with her hands, "if 'I'm fine' counts, then –"

"You know what," Kakashi cuts in, waving one of his stupid romance novels, "I've got a book here, and it's never been rude to me. Take these," he come up with a set of kunai and throws them in a perfect line in a nearby tree trunk, "and go stab something. Yourself for example."

Hermione laughs too hard to come up with much of a retort. "Aww," she takes a step over and reaches out to pat his head. He evades her hand. "I'm sorry for pointing out your obvious lie. I promise I'll try to be stupider the next time."

When Gai show up Kakashi has resituated to one of the branches far above Hermione's head and has studiously ignored her for the last five minutes. She counts it as a clear win.

.oOo.

Kakashi and the mini-me that Gai brought with him are moving fast enough they're hardly more than a blur. Lee, Hermione reminds herself, not mini-Gai. It's rather rude of her to call him by anything but his name, especially since he let her ask a lot of questions and seemed to genuinely enjoy answering them. It's just hard, seeing him next to his sensei and think of him as a separate entity. It does raise the question about whether there are two more mini-Gais out there, and how they must have looked as Gai led a full squad of twelve-year-old copies of himself.

Not that that's a question she dared ask Lee as Kakashi and Gai settled their bet, nor is it one she can ask Gai now. Honestly, she's not sure she could keep her face straight if he confirmed the image.

Gai somehow manages to follow what's happening out on the field, even if he says his eyes are no different from Hermione's. Then again, he's the one who taught Lee to fight like this; knows the patterns and key movements to look for, understands when a blow hits home. It must be hard, going from moving like that to not being able to stand. Not that it's really her place to judge whether his new life is better or worse than the old one.

"Can I ask about it?" Hermione finds herself saying, then bites her tongue.

"Of course!" Somehow Gai manages to sit up straighter. "It's my honour to help you understand this fight."

"I… Uh…" Hermione hesitates. She should probably go with it actually.

"Ah," Gai says before she can take the out, squinting at her, "that was not what you meant."

"No," Hermione admits, unable to decide whether she feels more stupid or tactless, "but it's okay, I shouldn't have…"

"Do not worry! As the companion of my esteemed rival, it is only fair you know why I cannot currently live up to my position. Tell me, what do you know about the Fourth Great War?" It feels like something that shouldn't have been said with Gai's level of enthusiasm.

"I…" Hermione twins a blade of grass around her finger. "Kakashi told me some, but mostly about the bits with Obito," she says. "He mentioned you did something no one else could, though; that you were the only one able to offer Madara a challenge, and that you paid a heavy price for it." Maybe Hermione should have asked Kakashi for this information instead. Only it isn't exactly his story to share, so in a way that could be considered even more nosy and invasive.

Gai gives her a sharp look, his brow creasing momentarily before smoothing out. Hermione wonders what part of her answer earned her such attention.

"In your body you have gates," Gai says instead of mentioning whatever caused his reaction, "that regulate the chakra flow. Normally, a person has access to about a fifth of their chakra. A little less if you're civilian, a little more if you've a trained shinobi. For a highly skilled taijutsu user, it is, however, possible to open these gates to access more of your potential power." It's not a complete answer, but Hermione has an uncomfortable feeling she can guess where this is going.

From Kakashi Hermione has learnt that staying quiet draws words out. As it turns out, this doesn't work on Gai, instead he focuses back on the spar like there's been no interruption. "How many gates are there?" Hermione asks in the end. It feels like a question that's easy to answer succinctly in case he wants to share no more.

"Eight." When Gai finally turns back her way, Hermione almost wishes he hadn't. There's something in the way he searches her eyes before continuing that puts a lump in her stomach. She hasn't spent a lot of time with Gai, but he doesn't feel like a person who should look like this. His lips quirk upwards, but it's not a happy smile. "Opening all of them is imposed with a strict self-rule," he tells her. "You only open the eighth gate for something precious enough to die for."

Hermione swallows. "Sounds ominous," she says, trying to avoid push him.

"The Gate of Death grants you incredible strength. A rush of chakra so powerful it burns you from the inside out as you use it."

Hermione feels her eyes widen, and Gai's smile turns a little more real. "Do not worry, my youthful friend," he says. "It was a worthy sacrifice; to die for my friends and the future of the world. Only Naruto showed up right before my life ended and, as is his habit, did something impossible. He saved my life. I spent several months unconscious, but the medic-nins were able to heal the burn damage. My legs however… The force of my kicks with all eight gates open pulverized every bone beneath my hips; there is simply nothing left to fix."

"I'm sorry." Hermione catches her lip between her teeth and glance over at Kakashi and Lee. Once again sees Gai moving in Lee's place instead of seated in the chair next to her.

"There is nothing to be sorry about!" Gai places a hand on Hermione's arm, and a spike of shame cuts through her abdomen. It's not him who's supposed to comfort her. "I am alive, and I am relearning to fight. I might be useless as a shinobi right now, but I will not give up until I'm back in active service. Kakashi will respect me as his rival once again!"

Everything about Gai is back to his usual demeanour, but Hermione can't help but challenge his words. They are simply too outrageously erroneous. "You don't think he respects you now?" she says, grasping for a reasonable follow-up. "You just beat him in the kunai challenge?"

This time Gai's smile feels like an armour. "He is not as hard to read as he likes to think," he says, something slippery but hardened in his voice. "I can tell things have changed, and I do not blame him. I am simply no longer at his level."

Hermione thinks of Kakashi. Her Kakashi. Who has never thought less of her for being civilian. Who, only hours ago, told her that what she does or doesn't do don't affect what he thinks of her. "Has he told you this is the reason?" she can't help but ask. "I mean it could be something else, if it is as you say."

"I do not need confirmation of what I already know." Gai's features softens again, rearranges themselves into something more normal. Something less forced. Something edging on sadness.

The worst part is, Hermione can't even contradict his statement. She's hardly met this man, knows very little about what kind of relationship he and Kakashi has. Maybe it's different. Maybe their relationship extends no further than these challenges and witty banter. She didn't think so, from the way Kakashi talks about it, but she doesn't know.

That doesn't mean she can let it go either.

"So," she says, cocking her head and smiling, "I guess you haven't tried to stand since your fight with Madara then. Since the medics told you it couldn't be done?"

She won't push anymore. Lets Gai turn back to the fight and redirects her own attention and questions to what's happening on the field. She should have kept her mouth shut. Not gone around asking intrusive questions and definitely not challenging Kakashi's friends into confronting him. It's too late to do anything about it now though; she'll just have to trust that Gai's as emotionally stunted as every other shinobi she's met, and won't be doing anything about this particular challenge.