Chapter Text
Chapter One
What Could Possibly Go Wrong
Hatake Residence, Konoha
The knock came just as Kakashi was about to turn the page.
Not the polite, two-tap kind. This one rattled the frame — sharp, impatient. All four ninken in the room lifted their heads in unison.
Kakashi sighed, dog-eared the novel, and rose from his chair.
When he slid open the door, there she was.
Naruto.
Rain clung to her like a second skin, dripping from her ponytail onto his porch. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her coat half-zipped, mud splattered all the way to her knees.
Kakashi didn’t even have to think. “…Don’t tell me you went to Amegakure again.”
She huffed, brushing past him into the warmth like she owned the place. “It wasn’t that far this time—”
“—You crossed two borders,” he cut in, shutting the door behind her. “And didn’t tell anyone. Again.”
Her boots hit the floor with a wet thud, leaving a fan of mud. She was already unzipping the heavier coat when she blurted, “Okay, so before you get mad—”
“That’s never a good start.”
“—I might have… told the Amegakure council we’re engaged.”
Silence. Even the dogs stopped moving.
Kakashi blinked at her, slowly. “…You might have ?”
“They were pushing for the Hokage to marry into Amegakure,” she rushed on, waving a hand. “And I didn’t want you roped into some political thing with a stranger, so I said you were already engaged. To me. Which technically solves their problem, and it’s not like—”
Kakashi held up a hand. “Let me see if I have this straight. You crossed two borders without telling anyone, met with Amegakure’s council, and in the middle of that meeting… you—”
“…Yes?” she prompted, fidgeting under his gaze.
He stared at her for another long beat, the kind that made the air between them feel heavier. Then he exhaled slowly, almost like this was just one more thing on a long list.
“…Sure.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s it? You’re not even gonna yell at me? Or say no?”
“I’ve been Hokage for two years,” Kakashi said, already turning toward the kitchen. “If fake being engaged to you keeps you from sneaking into Amegakure every other week, it’s worth it. What could possibly go wrong?”
The dogs exchanged a look that said they knew exactly what could go wrong.
–
Amegakure Market District – Two Days Earlier
The mission had ended three borders west of here.
Technically, she should have been halfway home by now.
But the rain was falling, and Naruto had learned long ago that Amegakure’s rain didn’t wait for permission. It ran down her hood, seeped into her shoulders, and followed her all the way from the high ridge road to the shadow of the village gates. The guards barely looked up when she passed; the familiar swirl on her armguard and her steady, unthreatening gait made her an old presence here.
She told herself it would just be a quick check-in.
A pass through the market. A word with the baker who kept half his stock aside for the orphan dormitory. A smile for the kids who shadowed her steps, not quite bold enough to greet her outright.
The first thing she noticed was the smell.
.
Markets had a rhythm — the char of skewered fish, the bright sharpness of pickled radish, the sweetness of steamed buns drifting out from paper stalls. This one smelled of damp canvas and stale grain.
The second thing was the sound. There wasn’t much of it.
The stalls that were open held only a fraction of their usual stock. Whole counters sat bare, tarps sagging under rainwater. Vendors kept their eyes low, weighing and re-weighing sacks of rice like the numbers might change if they stared hard enough.
Naruto slowed at the edge of a fruit stand. The man behind it was one of the first she’d met here, years ago. Now he was thinner, older, his hands wrapped in cloth that was fraying at the edges.
He glanced at her, managed a smile, and shook his head at the empty baskets. “Shipment from the east port was delayed again,” he murmured. “Three days. Maybe four. Not much left for the week.”
That was when she saw them — two small shapes huddled at the corner of the awning, bare feet muddy, hair plastered to their faces. They didn’t look up when she crouched beside them. One had a heel of bread, the other nothing at all.
She fished in her pouch for the small bundle of soldier pills she’d been carrying since the mission started. It wasn’t the right food for growing kids, but it was something. She held it out, waiting until the smaller one peeked up.
Their eyes were too old for their faces.
“Here,” Naruto said quietly, pressing the bundle into their hands. “Don’t eat it all at once. Share it, okay?”
They nodded, wordless.
The rain was heavier now, hammering the market’s patched tarps, pushing the smell of damp stone into her lungs. She straightened slowly, scanning the square. No council members here, of course. No one to see how thin their people were getting.
But she would.
She always did.
–
Amegakure Council Hall
The council hall squatted at the heart of the administrative block, its once-white walls stained with decades of rain. The main doors were warped from moisture, but Naruto didn’t slow when she pushed them open.
Warmth hit her in a wave — not from any fire, but from the heat of too many voices. Six council members sat around a cracked table, the room smelling faintly of damp wood and old paper. Two were bickering over trade routes. Another shuffled through a mold-stained ledger. One sat near the window, staring at the rain like the meeting had already lasted a lifetime.
Heads turned when she entered, boots dripping onto warped floorboards.
“Uzumaki,” the eldest councilor said, his voice carrying the ghost of a smile. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Yeah,” Naruto replied, shrugging out of her soaked cloak. “Guess I should’ve expected that too. I just came from the market.”
A ripple of discomfort passed through the room.
“It’s not good out there,” she continued, planting both hands on the table. “Half the stalls are empty. Shipments are late, and your people are splitting scraps between kids. You promised after the last aid run you’d get distribution moving smoother—”
“We said we would try,” interrupted a thin man to her left. “The network is fragile. We can’t guarantee—”
“You can’t guarantee food for your people?” Naruto’s voice cut sharper, carrying over the steady patter of rain. “Then let someone help who can.”
The room went still.
The oldest woman on the council — hair coiled high in the style of Amegakure’s old nobility — folded her hands. “Your concern is noted, Uzumaki-san. But you know our position. Amegakure cannot be seen as bending to Konoha’s control. If we sign an alliance without balance, the other villages will accuse us of being occupied.”
Naruto frowned. “We’ve sent aid for years without strings. What’s changed?”
“What’s changed,” the noblewoman said evenly, “is that the eyes of every major village are on us. If your Hokage wishes to formalize our bond, it must be with something binding. Something symbolic.” She let the word rest. “A marriage.”
Naruto sat back. “You’re saying the Hokage should marry into Amegakure?”
“Exactly. One of ours.”
“That’s not possible,” Naruto said immediately, sharper than she meant to.
Several brows lifted. “Why?”
She didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t have one — she just wasn’t about to explain why the idea of Kakashi tied into a political marriage made her skin crawl.
The man with the ledger spoke up. “He’s not married, as far as we know. He’s a viable candidate.”
“No,” Naruto said, too fast. “Definitely not.”
“Then why not?” another councilor pressed.
Her mouth opened, and before her brain could catch up, the words were already tumbling out: “Because… he’s engaged. To me. Already.”
Silence.
Then the noblewoman’s lips curved. “Perfect. Since we already consider you a representative of Amegakure, this bond becomes even more favorable.”
Naruto’s stomach dropped. Oh no. No, no, no.
She could almost see herself from above — a shinobi who’d just run headlong into a trap of her own making. How was she going to break this to Kakashi? How was she going to explain that she’d just announced their engagement to an entire council?
The image of the market flickered in her mind. Empty baskets. Thin hands clutching rain-wet crusts of bread. The kids who didn’t have another week to wait.
She exhaled through her nose, rain slipping down her temple. Fine. She’d figure it out. Somehow.
And pray to every kami listening that her former sensei didn’t kill her first.
—
The rain followed her out of the council hall like it meant to chase her across every border.
By the time Naruto reached the village gates, her cloak was plastered to her shoulders and the streets had emptied into the comfort of dim, dry rooms. She didn’t stop to rest, didn’t bother to wait for the downpour to thin. Every hour the council’s words echoed in her head — You are the Rain’s Hero… that makes you ours.
The market’s empty stalls were still burned into her sight. So were the children.
She cut a straight line out of Amegakure, boots splashing through muddy ruts on the old trade road. The border watch knew her face, so the gates opened without question. Past that, it was just the endless stretch of slick grassland and the hiss of rain on leaves.
Night bled into day, then into night again. Her muscles ached from the mission she’d just completed, but the urgency wouldn’t let her stop. Every time her pace slowed, she saw the noblewoman’s calm smile across the table — not smug, not mocking, just certain that she’d planted the seed.
By the time Konoha’s walls rose through the mist, the rain had turned to a thin, steady drizzle. She pushed through the gate without a word to the guard, cutting across the sleeping streets until she reached the familiar slope of the Hatake residence.
No detours. No time to change. Not even time to think.
Naruto raised her fist and knocked.
—
Back to the present.
He stared at her for another long beat, the kind that made the air between them feel heavier. Then he exhaled slowly, almost like this was just one more thing on a long list. “…Sure.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s it? You’re not even gonna yell at me? Or say no?”
“I’ve been Hokage for two years,” Kakashi said, already turning toward the kitchen. “If fake being engaged to you keeps you from sneaking into Amegakure every other week, it’s worth it. What could possibly go wrong?”
The dogs exchanged a look that said they knew exactly what could go wrong.
By the time he reached the counter, Naruto was already peeling herself out of her rain-soaked layers, leaving a heap of damp travel coats by the door like a wet breadcrumb trail. She didn’t ask permission before flopping onto his couch, still muttering under her breath.
“…rice shipment three days late, kids are splitting crusts, council’s arguing over trade routes like that’s gonna fill anyone’s stomach…” Her voice carried over the soft clink of him pulling down cups from the cabinet. “And then they have the nerve to—”
He let her words blur into background noise. Not because they didn’t matter — they did — but because he’d already pieced together the situation between her rushed explanation and that guilty look she thought she was hiding.
This wasn’t new.
She’d run herself raw for Amegakure before, and for every other place she’d decided was worth her time. And every time, she came back like this — dripping rain and trouble onto his floors, carrying causes she shouldn’t have to shoulder alone.
The only difference tonight was that she’d managed to rope him into it before he’d even had the chance to say no.
The kettle began to rattle. He measured out the tea leaves and let them steep, grateful for the familiar rhythm. If he lingered too long on the engaged part, he might start imagining all the ways this could spin out — and he’d already decided there was no point wasting energy on panic.
When he came back with two steaming cups, the couch was silent. Naruto was sprawled sideways, head tipped against the armrest, breathing slow and even. Sleep had taken her mid-sentence.
Kakashi set both cups down, sighed, and tugged the nearest blanket over her. The dogs watched him with pointed amusement.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he told them quietly. “She’s going to keep doing this.”
She was too comfortable here. Too unguarded. And he was starting to suspect she’d never once thought of him as anything other than a safe harbor — not as a man, not as a possibility, certainly not as the other half of a marriage, real or not.
Which was fine.
Probably.
Kakashi settled into his chair with his own cup, the steam fogging his mask. Outside, the rain kept falling, steady and unbothered by the bargain she’d just made for both of them.
Warm.
That was the first thing Naruto noticed. Warm, soft, and… familiar.
She blinked against the pale wash of morning light leaking through half-drawn curtains. The blanket was heavier than hers, the sheets carrying a clean, faintly rainy scent that curled into her lungs before she could think about it too much. Tea leaves, cedar, and something else that was just… Kakashi.
Her muscles loosened automatically — then tensed just as fast.
This wasn’t her bed.
She sat up too quickly, nearly tangling herself in the blanket. Flashes from the night before came rushing back: the knock, the tea, the couch—
Except she wasn’t on the couch.
Something sizzled faintly beyond the door, the air warm with the smell of grilled fish and miso. Naruto swung her legs out of bed, bare feet touching cool wood, and padded down the short hall.
Kakashi was at the counter, sleeves rolled, flak vest zipped, hair perfectly in place like he’d woken up ready for a mission. He didn’t look up from the pan.
“You sleep like a rockslide,” he said lightly.
Naruto narrowed her eyes. “You have a spare room. You could’ve moved me there.”
That earned her a glance over his shoulder, the corner of his eye crinkling. “Just making sure you know what you’re getting after telling the Amegakure council we’re already engaged.”
It took her a second to connect the dots. “…Wait. This is about—oh, you’re enjoying this. You’re making sure I don’t get out of this easy.”
“I’ll take whatever I can,” Kakashi said, voice smooth as the steam curling off the miso pot, “especially if it means I get to see that embarrassed face any chance I get.”
Naruto groaned. “Ugh, I’m gonna regret this.”
“I’m hoping you will.”
“You wish.” She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Bring it on, Hatake.”
He set a plate on the counter with a soft clink. “What do you want for breakfast?”
Naruto hesitated. “…What is for breakfast?”
“Rice, grilled mackerel, and miso,” he answered, like it was an everyday question with an everyday answer.
And for a second — standing in his kitchen, hair still damp from the night before, the smell of breakfast settling between them — she could almost see what married mornings might look like.
—
Breakfast hadn’t taken long. Kakashi ate with his usual unhurried precision while Naruto powered through hers like she had somewhere to be — which, unfortunately, was the Hokage’s office with him.
They stepped out into the sunlight, the air still carrying the faint dampness of last night’s rain. Kakashi locked the door behind them, tugging his gloves on.
“You’re heading straight to the office, right?” she asked, matching his stride.
“Where else would your fiancé be going?” he replied, perfectly casual.
Naruto shot him a sideways glare. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just making sure you’re practicing the wording,” he said lightly. “Wouldn’t want you slipping up in public.”
“You mean slipping up more than I already have?” she muttered.
“Exactly.”
They turned down the main street, the steady hum of the morning market swelling around them. Heads began to turn — not because the sight was unfamiliar, but because it had been a long time. There’d been a time when Naruto and Kakashi walking shoulder to shoulder was an everyday thing, their easy bickering a background note in the village’s rhythm. But since the war — and especially since he’d taken the Hokage’s seat — those moments had become rare. Seeing them together like this in the bright morning, trading jabs like nothing had changed, was enough to make people look twice.
A pair of chunin outside a supply shop paused mid-conversation to watch them pass. A shopkeeper greeted Naruto warmly, then let his eyes flick toward Kakashi, his smile just a fraction more curious than usual.
Naruto leaned closer without breaking stride. “You do realize this is going to start rumors, right?”
Kakashi didn’t look at her. “They’re just getting used to the idea of us being engaged.”
“They don’t know we’re engaged!” she hissed.
“Then you’d better tell them,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want Amegakure thinking you’ve changed your mind.”
She elbowed him hard enough to jostle his sleeve. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re committed. At least, according to international diplomacy.”
By the time they reached the base of the Hokage’s tower, the quiet murmurs following them had already multiplied — not quite scandal, not quite harmless nostalgia. Just enough to make the morning air feel charged.
–
Inside, the Hokage’s office smelled faintly of fresh ink and open windows. Scrolls were stacked in their usual precarious towers on one side of Kakashi’s desk, and Shikamaru was leaning against the opposite wall, flipping through a folder like he was only half-paying attention.
He was paying attention.The second Naruto and Kakashi stepped through the door together, his eyes narrowed a fraction.
“You came in together,” he said flatly. Not a question — an observation that sounded suspiciously like an accusation.
Naruto blinked. “Yeah? We live in the same village, you know.”
Shikamaru closed the folder, gaze flicking between them like he was lining up shogi pieces. “You never come in together. Not in months.”
Kakashi breezed past the comment, dropping into his chair. “Good morning to you too, Shikamaru.”
Shikamaru’s eyes stayed on Naruto. “Something happened.”
“Plenty of things happen,” Naruto said with a shrug that was definitely too casual.
Neither confirmed. Neither denied.
Shikamaru exhaled slowly, the kind of sigh that said I can already see the mess this will turn into. He shook his head, muttering, “Troublesome…” before shifting gears.“You haven’t completed your last mission report,” he said, eyes narrowing. “And you cannot keep having Konohamaru fill it out for you.”
Naruto bristled. “I was going to—”
“You weren’t,” Shikamaru cut in.
Kakashi chuckled behind his desk, flipping open a scroll. “You heard the man.”
Naruto shot him a glare but grabbed the blank report from the edge of the desk anyway, muttering under her breath about nitpicking and slave drivers as she pulled a chair up to start writing.
Shikamaru returned to his corner, watching her work like he was bracing for a storm.
—-
Naruto hunched over the desk Shikamaru had pointed her to, pen scratching quickly across the page. She didn’t just write; she attacked the report like it was a sparring match, each sentence punctuated with a determined jab of ink. Every so often she paused, chewing on the pen cap, then scribbled something else like she’d just remembered a detail worth throwing in before it slipped away.
Kakashi glanced up from his own paperwork. Old habits made it easy to read her in moments like this — the restless bounce of her knee, the way her mouth twisted when she skipped over the parts she didn’t want to explain, the focus that burned hot and fast before inevitably burning out.
Once, he’d spent years watching her like this from the other side of a training ground, assessing her strengths and where she’d trip herself up. That part of him hadn’t gone anywhere, even if the titles had changed.
Across the room, Shikamaru was watching too — though his gaze was less about form and more about fallout. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his stare was its own warning: this wasn’t over.
Naruto must have felt the attention because she glanced up suddenly. “What?”
“Nothing,” Kakashi said easily, eyes already on the scroll in his hands.
Her frown lingered for a moment before she bent back to the report. Kakashi let his own attention drift back to his work, though he caught himself listening for the soft scrape of her pen as if it mattered whether she stopped.
Outside, the village murmured on, but inside the office, it was just the quiet scratch of ink and the measured breath of people already tangled in something bigger than they were ready to admit.
–
The pen landed on the desk with a small click.
“There.” Naruto slid the completed mission report toward Shikamaru with the satisfied look of someone who’d just survived a chore she hated.
Shikamaru skimmed the first few lines, exhaled in a way that said barely acceptable , and tucked it into the growing stack on his desk. “Try finishing these on time next mission,” he muttered.
“I’ll put it on my to-do list,” she replied, deadpan, pushing back from her chair.
Naruto had one hand on the door when Kakashi’s voice floated lazily from behind his desk. “Don’t go too far.”
She turned, brow furrowed. “Why?”
“There’s a diplomatic meeting in twenty minutes.” He didn’t even look up from the scroll in his hands. “You’re sitting in.”
Naruto blinked. “Since when do I get invited to those?”
Kakashi’s tone was smooth enough to sound offhand, but the words were deliberate. “Since your fiancé needs to be seen working in step with his Amegakure counterpart. I wanted our relationship private, but you slipped up in front of Amegakure anyway. Now our engagement is a village affair.”
It took Naruto a beat to catch on — then his phrasing landed, and she felt the flick of the kunai-sharp cue he’d just handed her. “Oh,” she said, straightening like she’d been ready for this all along. “Right. Yes. Our engagement.”
Kurama stirred lazily in the back of her mind. Hn. You’re terrible at lying.
Shut up, she thought back, keeping her face neutral.
She crossed the room and perched casually on the edge of Kakashi’s desk, angled toward him just enough to look like the kind of closeness that made people speculate. “Guess it was only a matter of time, huh?” she added, as if to no one in particular.
Kakashi’s visible eye curved faintly. “Apparently.”
Shikamaru’s gaze moved between them, slow and deliberate. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look impressed. “…You know this is weird, right?”
Naruto raised a brow. “Weird? Really? I thought we did well.”
“I don’t buy it,” Shikamaru said flatly, already gathering another stack of papers. “Try harder. And good luck in that meeting.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Naruto muttered.
Shikamaru slouched back into his chair, muttering under his breath, “This is going to be a pain…”
Kurama chuckled in the back of her mind. He’s not wrong.
The conference room smelled faintly of ink, polished wood, and the faint bitter tang of brewed tea. Delegates from Amegakure and Konoha’s trade ministry were already seated when Kakashi entered — Naruto at his side, steps perfectly matched like they’d rehearsed it.
They hadn’t rehearsed it.
It was just muscle memory from years of moving in formation, a silent rhythm they both fell into without thinking.
Kurama’s voice was dry in Naruto’s head. Careful. You’re walking like you’re about to take a battlefield together, not sit in a meeting.
Same difference, she thought back, keeping her smile easy as Kakashi pulled out a chair for her like a gentleman from some formal novel.
Across the table, the Amegakure delegates took notice — eyes flicking from one to the other, then back again. One of them, a thin man with silver-threaded hair, smiled in a way that was far too knowing. “Hokage-sama. Uzumaki-san. A pleasure to see you… together.”
“Likewise,” Kakashi said smoothly, seating himself beside her. “My fiancée and I are looking forward to discussing our continued cooperation.”
Naruto didn’t even flinch at the word fiancée . She rested her forearms on the table, nodding like she’d been sitting in diplomatic meetings her whole life. “Especially where supply lines are concerned. We both know hungry kids don’t care what flag’s flying over the grain carts.”
Shikamaru, stationed just behind Kakashi’s chair, was already dying internally. Watching them volley off each other like they’d been planning this for weeks was… unsettling. Annoying. And — he’d admit only to himself — not bad. Not bad at all.
The Amegakure envoy leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “It’s good to see such unity between our leadership.”
Naruto’s smile was warm, but her tone was sharp enough to cut. “Unity’s easy when you’ve fought side by side for years.”
Kakashi didn’t miss a beat. “Or sat through too many mission debriefings together.”
A faint ripple of amusement moved around the table — enough to make the tension ease just slightly.
Shikamaru’s gaze narrowed as he watched them slide into the same rhythm they’d always had in the field: Kakashi setting the pace, Naruto pressing the point, both of them instinctively covering the other’s blind spots. It was effortless. It was convincing.
It was going to be a nightmare to maintain.
Kurama’s voice rumbled in Naruto’s mind. Well… you’ve got the act down. Now you just have to survive it.
She didn’t dare glance at Kakashi, but from the faint curve of his visible eye, she knew he’d heard enough in her posture to guess what the fox had just said.
The office door clicked shut behind them, and Naruto slumped into the nearest chair like she’d just run ten laps around the village. “That,” she said, pointing at him, “was exhausting.”
Kakashi loosened his gloves with lazy precision. “You did well.”
She gave him a look. “I had to sit there while you kept… complimenting me.”
“I was complimenting my fiancée,” He corrected, entirely too smoothly.
Naruto rubbed her hands over her face. “Yeah, well, I had to look at you like you hung the moon. You know how weird that was?”
Kurama’s chuckle rumbled low in her head. Not as weird as how good you were at it.
She dropped her hands to glare at the empty air. “Shut it.”
Kakashi tilted his head, faint amusement in his eye. “Talking to the fox or me?”
“Both.”
He leaned against the desk, arms folded, his shadow stretching over her. “You kept the pace. Matched the tone. Made it sound like we actually enjoy each other’s company.”
“We do enjoy each other’s company,” she said, before realizing how that sounded. “I mean—”
He smirked. “Careful. People might start to believe it.”
She let her head fall back against the chair with a groan. “I’m going to regret this.”
“I’m counting on it.”
For a moment, neither moved — just the sound of paper shifting on his desk and the faint hum of the village outside. And under all of it, an unspoken truth: they might just be able to pull this off.
If they could survive each other.