The living room hummed with the chatter of young shinobi, the faint crackling of the movie in the background blending with Naruto's exaggerated commentary in every dvd he come across. Hana had settled comfortably into her seat, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea, as she quietly observed the new generation of Konoha.

Kakashi, leaning lazily against the arm of the couch, glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You don't seem like the type to host rowdy teenagers in your home," he mused, voice light.

Hana smirked, blowing lightly on her tea. "And yet, here we are."

Kakashi chuckled, tapping his fingers idly against the spine of his ever-present orange book. "Strange, isn't it?" He turned a page without looking at it. "Someone as… refined as you putting up with Naruto's antics."

Hana raised an eyebrow. "Refined?"

"You don't seem the type to argue over ramen flavors or start pointless yelling matches." He tilted his head slightly, his silver hair catching the dim light. "It's… unexpected."

Hana sipped her tea, amusement flickering in her green eyes. "You say that like you had me figured out the moment we met."

Kakashi hummed. "Not quite." He cast her a lazy glance. "You're staring, Hana-san," Kakashi murmured, his visible eye crinkling in amusement. He had caught her.
She chuckled, setting down her cup. Her gaze drifted toward a framed photo on the shelf—an old image of her and Tobirama, a rare moment captured when he had been adjusting the hem of her haori before an important clan meeting. His touch had been firm yet careful, the smallest trace of tenderness hidden beneath the layers of duty.
Silence settled between them, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. Kakashi didn't pry further, and Hana was thankful for that. Instead, he let his gaze wander toward another picture—this one much older, the edges slightly faded. It depicted Hana and another man, one with long dark hair and a sharp, piercing gaze.
"Uchiha Madara," Kakashi mused. "You were close to him too?"
Hana's expression remained unreadable, but something in her eyes dimmed. "Madara was… complicated, but a very good friend" she admitted. "More so than anyone ever realized."
Sasuke, who had been pretending not to listen, finally spoke. "He very much appreciates your presence according to his scrolls."

Hana turned to face him, and for a moment, Kakashi saw it—the flicker of an old sorrow, buried under centuries of quiet endurance.

"Madara was a man who carried too much weight on his shoulders," she finally said. "And sometimes, when you carry so much, you can't help but let it crush you."

Sasuke said nothing, but something in his features softened.
Hana merely shook her head in amusement, leaning back against the couch. Naruto, having overheard none of the serious conversations, suddenly leapt up from his seat, raising his fist in the air. "Alright! We're watching The Tale of the Ramen Warrior! A classic!"

Sakura groaned. "Naruto, that's not even a real movie!"

Laughter filled the room again, dispelling the solemn air that had briefly settled. Hana smiled as she observed the young shinobi before her—the new generation of Konoha.

As the movie played on, Hana felt Kakashi's gaze flick toward her once more, lingering for just a moment before drifting away, as if he wasn't looking at all.

She smirked to herself.

He was curious about her.

The warmth of the evening had settled into a comfortable lull. The once lively debate over movie choices had fizzled out, leaving only the soft hum of the television and the occasional murmur of conversation. Naruto had long since slumped over on the floor, his mouth slightly open as he snored in complete bliss, arms sprawled over a pile of discarded snack wrappers.

Sakura, half-heartedly attempting to keep her eyes open, sat curled up on the couch, her head nodding forward every so often before she jolted herself awake. Sasuke, ever the silent one, had his arms crossed, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, though whether he was truly asleep or simply resting was unclear.

Iruka had surrendered first, having excused himself earlier, muttering something about early classes tomorrow. Now, the only ones still visibly awake were Kakashi and Hana, both seated comfortably in their own spaces, seemingly unaffected by the growing drowsiness that weighed on the room.

Hana smiled slightly as she reached for a blanket draped over the couch. She stood and moved quietly, gently placing it over Naruto's sleeping form before adjusting the pillow under Sakura's head.

He glanced at the sleeping figures sprawled across the room before giving a nonchalant shrug. "Looks like I'm staying."

She smirked. "That's very presumptuous of you."

Hana returned a few moments later, a folded blanket and a pillow in hand. Kakashi watched, head still tilted against the couch, as she tossed the pillow onto the seat next to him.

"You're surprisingly hospitable," he mused, catching the pillow lazily with one hand.

Hana raised an eyebrow as she draped the blanket over the couch. "Would you rather sleep on the floor?"

Kakashi chuckled, setting the pillow behind his head. "Nah, I like this arrangement." He stretched, adjusting his position until he was comfortably settled in. "Luxury."

Hana smirked. "Don't get too used to it."

She sat down again, this time at the edge of the couch, facing the window. The faint rustling of leaves outside filled the silence, the occasional chirp of a night bird punctuating the stillness.

Kakashi cracked an eye open, watching her from the corner of his vision. She wasn't looking at him—her gaze was fixed on the dark expanse beyond the glass, her expression unreadable.

"You really don't sleep much, huh?" he said, more to fill the quiet than anything else.

Hana hummed in response, still staring at the window. "Some nights are easier than others."

Kakashi didn't press. Instead, he let his gaze drift toward the ceiling. "Yeah… I know what you mean."

The words were simple, but there was an unspoken understanding between them. He wasn't the type to offer sympathy, and she wasn't the type to seek it. But in that brief exchange, there was acknowledgement—of long nights spent awake, of thoughts that refused to rest, of ghosts that lingered in the quiet.

The television had long since turned to a low hum of background noise, the movie forgotten. In the dim light, Naruto shifted in his sleep, muttering something incoherent before turning onto his side.

Hana glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He's grown a lot."

Kakashi made a sound of agreement. "He's still a handful, though."

"That's part of his charm."

"Hmm. If you say so."

Hana smirked slightly, leaning back against the arm of the couch. "You're fond of him."

Kakashi exhaled through his nose, amused. "I tolerate him."

Hana chuckled softly. "Sure."

Another pause, this one more natural than before. Kakashi shifted slightly, eyes half-lidded as sleep began to creep in.

"You should sleep," Hana said after a moment.

Kakashi yawned behind his mask, stretching one arm over the back of the couch. "I will. Eventually."

Hana rolled her eyes. "Don't be difficult."

Kakashi smirked, closing his eyes. "Can't help it. It's part of my charm."

Hana huffed in amusement, shaking her head.

For a while, neither of them spoke again. The house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the steady breathing of the others and the occasional rustling of fabric as someone shifted in their sleep.

Kakashi cracked an eye open one last time, glancing at Hana again. She had shifted slightly, one arm resting on the back of the couch, her gaze distant but relaxed.

He thought, briefly, that she fit into the room too easily for someone who seemed like a ghost of a different time.

Interesting.

He let the thought drift as he closed his eyes again, finally letting sleep take over.

And Hana, despite herself, stayed awake just a little longer—listening to the steady rhythm of breathing in the room, the sound of the wind outside, and the quiet presence of the man beside her.

Neither of them said another word.