#chidoried

She falls into the category, she has his trust. He trusts her, does care about her and does want to kiss her so, oh what the hell why not do that ? Fingers slip his mask down and he presses chapped yet soft lips against hers for only a moment, just a moment to give her a chance to understand what he did. Perhaps his mask is already back into place before she can process that move on his part. He gives her an eye smile and puts his nose back into his book. ❝ See ? Hopeless romantic. ❞ He looks over the top of his book at her and gives her that eye smile again.

the thought of @chidoried being a hopeless romantic is laughable at best; he is lazy and perverse by nature, perhaps undeserving of the affections that he receives all around. at the very least, he can claim to be a decent teacher and a masterful combatant, and for both, he has earned a deep amount of respect from reina already. it does not stop her from giggling, though, wondering what on earth could spur him to say such a thing. a passionate lover, perhaps, but a romantic? that would be a new one for the books.

kakashi's fingers move to the bridge of his mask, a motion she's seen many times. usually, to adjust it when it slipped or moved. on some occasions, she was unwittingly given the opportunity to see his face in full — the teeth are always a strange, unexpected twist that make him look more of a blighter than one could guess. for that, she feels privileged, trusted. for what comes next, she feels alight with more questions than answers as he captures her lips with his, indulgent and sweet, and gone just a second too soon.

" hey!? just because you like kissing doesn't mean you're romantic! " she complains, gritting her toes into the ground. it's hard to fuss about it too much, though, knowing that he claims her to be the object of his affections. " sheesh, buy a girl dinner first. "

*   a silent observation  ,  amethyst gaze locked in place  -  a mortal.  she knows better than to show herself  ,  ‘least not so obviously.  still  ,  there is a sense of . . curiosity.  this person possesses heavy energy.  sleeve covered hand is held in front of pink lips  ,  seemingly eternally smiling with the way outer corners curl upward to the sun.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃           to believe that Kakashi really and  TRULY  wouldn't break the kunai knife he had handed them. But sue him for being concerned a child would end up breaking something.   ❝ Just ... keep your hands steady 一 okay Kakashi ? ❞   It was a few more moments before he did eventually let go, though he stayed comfortably squatting in front of the young genin.    ❝ Cool, yeah ~? They were designed special, so do not drop them. ❞   There was a brief pause and then.   ❝ ... Don't throw them either. ❞

❝ I want to be of use to everyone so please — please teach me how to fight! ❞ Perhaps she shouldn’t conflate the two lessons, though she knew that one without the other would only help her to run and hide from her problems. She was tired of the one always being saved, she wanted to prove to everyone that she was more than just a girl with a schoolyard crush. She had done nothing besides get in the way when their village was infiltrated, putting others at risk due to her own inability to fight. Now, Sasuke was gone and Naruto was off looking for the next Hokage in the wake of a disaster. And what was she doing other than kicking herself and wishing that both of them could return to the village? ❝ I want to grow strong so I don’t have to rely on others to save me. ❞ She admitted, this time more sheepishly than her other outbursts. 

She paused, hoping that her request would not go unanswered. She was well aware that everyone in the village was busy and doing their own things. Not only did they lose their Hokage — the pillar of their village but she also lost a friend, a teammate. In both scenarios she had been unable to help her village, to defend the things she loved and unable to stop Sasuke’s departure. If she could have been honest with her sensei she would have admitted that she wasn’t sure what her place was here in the village nor what it had been back when Team Seven was still together. Her brow furrowed slightly, as words fell softly from her lips. ❝ Please sensei. ❞

antagonizing Kakashi wasn’t particularly rewarding –––  unlike Deidara, unlike Kakuzu, both of whose ire or rage he could spark like a match thrown at nitroglycerin. the flame simply did not take ( well ). not with him. as if Kakashi were but a wide, bottomless pool of dark, still water ( beware, beware for here be monsters— ), shaped into the figure of a man. he couldn’t even stir the surface properly ( yanking back his fingertips from it, however, left his flesh ice-cold ).

the weapon swings in a single, fluid motion, finding its resting place against Hidan’s shoulder ( an arm draping lazily upon the handle, a peace-offering on its own ), even as he cocks an eyebrow.

once  he’s  done  he  fights  to  the  urge  to  spit  back,  instead  he  turns  to  go  after  kakashi.     his  chakra  is  easily  recognizable  to  the  chunin,  after  all,  how  many  times  did  they  spar.     but,  even  more  so,  was  the  sanbi’s  near  endless  amount  of  natural  energy.     it’d  take  actual  effort  to  NOT  sense  it,  to  block  it  out.       so  he  joins  kakashi  on  the  roof,  sitting  down  next  to  him.

his  sharp  tone  hurts,  but  gai  doesn’t  even  flinch  anymore.      he  is  angry,  so  very  angry.     not  at  kakashi,  or  the  bijuu        it’s  not  their  fault.     he  is  mad  at  the  village  for  treating  them  like  garbage,  he  is  mad  at  kirigakure  for  doing  this  to  kakashi.          ❝ it’s  okay,  kakashi. ❞  

it  would  be  a  cold  day  in  hell  if  gai  would  leave  his  rival  to  suffer  all  alone.      if  anything  he inches  closer  to  the  jinchuriki.     ❝ eternal  means  forever.  always.  no  matter  what. ❞      his  expression  turns  dead  serious.

                                          ❛    hatake kakashi .    ❜

𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 words drip from his lips , like aged blood - spill at blade's corrupted base . the name is familiar on his tongue , as memories ( as cursed as they were ) flick like paper drawings through the blackness behind his eyes . he hates them , he hates them , he hates them .  SCOWL lingers 'gainst poisoned spirit , yet in this world where treachery births saviours , he'd maintain dignity in a facade of evil .