Naruto 1. Exposition

**Pre-Note:** _This fic takes place approximately eight years before the start of the _Naruto_ canon, meaning that Kakashi is nineteen years old, almost twenty. The Land of Rice and the Rice Village, as far as I know, are not real places in the _Naruto_ universe, meaning that I have taken creative license in their creation. If I am mistaken, please do message me with corrections._

_As always, I don't own _Naruto_, because if I did I wouldn't need student loans._

* * *

The real problem with escorting nobles, Kakashi decided, did not lie with the act of guarding them. In fact, nobles were very easy to guard; they rarely ever left their carriages unless they desperately had to pee, and taking them off into the woods on a pee break was a simple task. Nobles tended not to converse with the hired help either, more out of fear that money was not the driving force behind shinobi's actions than anything else, really. No, the problem with guarding nobles was nothing that they actively _did_.

The problem was just that Kakashi hated listening to them _talk_.

Nobles were supposed to be a well-educated, knowledgeable set filled with astute observations and talents relating to flower configurations and tea-pouring. However, the most knowledgeable thing Kakashi had yet gleaned from their ceaseless chatter that the daughter of the daimyo of the Land of Tea was sleeping with a man three times her age and three times as wealthy as her father while already being married to the Kazekage's third cousin twice removed. This was nothing that Kakashi necessarily needed (or cared) to know, but it could prove to be useful information in a pinch so he filed the tidbit away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

Kakashi had been advised numerous times to simply use his internal filter to drown out what the nobles said as they bumped along in their carriage, but he had yet to actually apply his internal filter. How could he? His job was to be observant to his surroundings, and if he was ignoring his charges (however useless their banter was), then he was ignoring his surroundings. But fuck, did these rich morons know how to carry on a meaningless conversation.

"Excuse me, Mr. Shinobi?" One of the nobles, a portly young fellow with round, rosy cheeks and blonde hair, stuck his head out of the carriage window. If the blush stain on his cheeks was any indication, the guy was already well on his way to being falling-down drunk before he ever even reached the wedding he was scheduled to attend. "How much longer until we reach the gate?"

They weren't far from the border of the Land of Rice, perhaps an hour away. Kakashi told the man as much. "And maybe two hours from the Village of Rice."

"What excellent timing!" The man drooled a tad. He wiped away the string of saliva hanging from his slack, drunken mouth. "We certainly appreciate you getting us here a day ahead! We did so want to help out with the wedding!"

The wedding was the hottest topic and the subject of rumors both admirable and scandalous. Most of the rumors had been started by the bridal party (apparently, her side of the family was chock full of no-class, no-talent, shinobi grunts). Kakashi seriously doubted that this section of the bridal party would be doing anything in regards to the wedding other than drinking all of the champagne.

"It's what you're paying us for. We're happy to comply."

"Of course, of course!" the noble exclaimed before ducking back into the carriage. He'd left a few droplets of sweat on the ground from where his delicate skin had perspired against the melting humidity.

Since departing from Kohonagakura, Kakashi had decided no less than seven times that his assignment to this mission was meant as a punishment for some previous slight against the Hokage (or the village elders, who, for some reason, did not particularly care for him). He was Copy-Nin Hatake Kakashi for goodness sake, Kohona's most resilient and feared jounin, a close second to the Hokage himself in strength, power, and general infamy. The red in his ledger could have painted every building in Kohona. He simply didn't get assigned to dignitary missions (much less _wedding duty_) without having fucked something up entirely spectacularly at some point beforehand.

Oh, sure, Sandaime-sama had assured Kakashi that this mission would be a piece of cake, like a paid vacation, really. He'd get to spend a week in the Land of Rice supervising the team of jounin guarding the bridal party. He got free food, housing, and booze. He didn't even have to guard anyone himself (but if he wanted to keep an eye on the bride, well, that would be _much appreciated_, shoulder-slap, annoyingly fake guffaw).

He was _told_ that he would be having a fun romp through the socialite circuit of the Land of Rice, partying with a bunch of rich benefactors (and the daimyo's son, who happened to be the groom). What he _heard_ was that he would be standing around, watching a bunch of rich pricks and old ladies drink themselves into alcohol poisoning.

Kakashi was going to have a fun week.

A little less than two hours later, the gates of the Village of Rice loomed into view. The gates were hideous iron erections with ugly spiked tips and were possibly compensating for the fact that the village was woefully undermanned in terms of shinobi power. There were a few power players roaming the streets, but not enough to make up for the fact that the village had to hire shinobi from it's allied countries to lend a hand at a _wedding_. Two of said power players were waiting to welcome the party to the village, and Kakashi gladly handed the carriage off to the taller of the two guards.

The guard took the main horse's lead. He was tall and dark-skinned, with a wide mouth that made him almost androgynous. "Any trouble getting here from Konoha?"

Kakashi shook his head. "No. Maybe it'll be a quiet week."

The guard sighed, tugging gently on the horse's lead. "If the daimyo's son is involved, it's gonna be hell."

"So I've heard, but he's not my problem," Kakashi replied. He wanted to be empathetic towards the guard, he really did, but he'd heard about the daimyo's son's previous antics and breathed a sigh of happy relief. There was one bullet he was exceptionally glad to have dodged. "I'm on vacation."

"More power to you then, Hatake," the guard replied, pulling the horses through the gate.

The team of jonin that had accompanied Kakashi filed in behind him. He turned to face them; as soon as he conducted his debriefing, he was essentially free to do whatever he wished. He was on vacation. Gross.

"The three of you have been assigned to your charges. You'll be posing as their dates for the week, which means you'll be sleeping in the same room as them. The Hokage said that we don't have the resources to handle another international scandal, so please don't kill your charge and please don't get your charge pregnant."

Kakashi paused, waiting for questions. He received nothing but hushed snickering, so he continued. "Debriefings will be held in the lobby of the jonin compound twice a day: once at eight a.m. and once at nine p.m. Don't be late. Don't skip out."

The girl who was, in effect, his second in command rolled her eyes. "That includes you, taicho. Don't be late."

Kakashi fixed her with an even glare. "I'm on vacation. You work to _my_ schedule."

The girl shrugged. "Right, anyway. Just don't be late to the wedding tomorrow, taicho. Nobles don't like it when you skip the party."

Right, the wedding. He wasn't looking forward to that. Not only would he have to sit still for hours (which he wasn't comfortable with on the best of days), but he would have to sit still for hours in a dress kimono. He would also probably be settled somewhere near the bride (for good measure, wink wink, nudge nudge, you're not really on vacation like they keep telling you) so that he could keep a close eye on her, which meant people would be paying attention to him. That, he could most certainly do without.

Kakashi led his team into the village behind the carriage filled with nobles. Vacation, right. And that carriage was actually filled with nobles. He was almost certain that the bride's side of the family was cashing in on the new husband's extensive dime. He wasn't part of the economically elite, but he had been escorting them from place to place long enough to know that nobles didn't just stick their heads out of the carriage to ask how much longer. Nobles sat around quietly and only acknowledged their escorts if they had to take a piss.

Upon reaching the nobles' hotel, Kakashi split away from the group due to his increasing lack of importance. He had given his team their orders, and that was the best he could do. The success of the mission now rested firmly on their (inexperienced) shoulders.

He had only a vague idea of where the shinobi compound was located, mostly due to half-assed directions some chunin had given him at the gates. Of course, since he was on "vacation," he really had nowhere important to be; wandering the Rice Village aimlessly wasn't the worst thing he could be doing. It was rather pleasant actually, shuffling down the warm streets with the sting of spices under his nose.

The shinobi compound was barely visible in the distance, but getting settled in was the last thing on Kakashi's mind. The lack of food over the past two days had his stomach roiling. The heady scent of tea and sweet rolls was drifting from the shop at the end of the street, and his stomach was directing him rather forcibly to the entrance. If he was lucky, maybe the place was a restaurant as well as a pastry shop. If nothing else, there was tea, and that would be enough to satiate him.

A bell over the door dinged as he pushed the glass open. The shop was small and cozy, with small tables surrounded by plush cushions. The bar was high, as were the bar stools, but Kakashi was easily tall enough to see over the bar. Behind the bar, a woman polished a miniscule teacup with a clean, white cloth. There was only one other person besides himself and the waitress: a pretty redheaded girl sipped tea in the far corner as she sat engrossed in a novel.

The waitress beamed at him as he sat down at the table to the left of the redhead. "Hey, sweetie! Can I get you something to drink?"

He nodded shortly. "Tea, please."

"Sure thing! I'll set a pot on for you!" The waitress busied herself with pressing tea leaves into a kettle. "Anything to eat? I can make anything you want."

Kakashi fiddled with the hem of his mask. "What's the special?"

"Kaeda-chan's miso soup is the best in the village."

From her position at the adjacent table, the redhead made her presence known. The girl had stored her book in some unknown pouch, and she was observing Kakashi with particular interest, her small smirk hidden partially behind the hand currently toying with her bottom lip.

The waitress, Kaeda, shushed the redhead. "Let him choose for himself, Obata-san! Maybe he doesn't like miso soup!"

Deep within Kakashi's most primal psyche, he began to salivate with anticipation . He would always be ready for a good bowl of miso soup. "That sounds excellent, actually."

The redhead smiled triumphantly. "I can always tell what a man likes to eat."

"Hush, Obata! Don't brag!" Kaeda leaned over the edge of the bar top. "You look far too thin, dear! Are you sure you wouldn't like more to your meal?"

"No, thank you, Kaeda-san. Miso soup is quite enough."

His treacherous stomach growled, betraying him. Obata clearly heard it gurgle. "I'll bet he'd like ribs, too. You can put it on my ticket, Kaeda-san."

Kakashi was used to women fawning over him, cooing about how he was so mysterious or trying desperately to incite his desire. He wouldn't accuse either one of these women of fawning over him, though the redhead had been eyeing him rather appreciatively, but he wasn't going to complain if these two ladies wanted to pay attention to him. He was rather enjoying the attention, particularly the redhead's.

Kaeda was a pleasant, middle-aged woman with a sweet face and graying hair, rather motherly in demeanor. She was preparing his tea tray while Obata was stacking her dishes up. The redhead, well, was easy on the eyes, and she was smirking at him like she already knew what he looked like naked.

While the waitress arranged his tea tray on the table, Obata slid onto the cushion next to him, storing her pack underneath the table. "You're a long way from Konoha, aren't you?."

There was no need to ask how she knew where he was from; he was wearing his headband. Kakashi swished his tea around in his cup, but didn't take a sip. "I'm here for the wedding."

From the sharp aroma drifting from the lip of the cup, the liquid was in Obata's teacup wasn't actually tea. "Ah, yes. The daimyo's son's wedding. Will you be sitting on the bride's side or the groom's side?"

"The bride's side," Kakashi replied smoothly. Yes, it was definitely sake in her cup, though she appeared quite sober.

Obata set the empty tea cup to the side. "As protection or as a friend?"

"Friend. I'm on vacation." Not _entirely_ untrue, but he couldn't very well admit that he was kind of a wedding-crasher, now could he?

She folded her arms across her chest as she reclined back on the cushion. The motion pushed her breasts up nicely, and it took a substantive amount of willpower on his part not to sneak a peek. "Is that right? The bride must be very well connected indeed to have made a friend out of Hatake Kakashi."

Beneath the mask, he smirked. "How did you know?"

Obata rested her chin in her hand. "Most hunter-nin own a Bingo Book, you know. And you're not exactly incognito."

"So then you must be a hunter-nin, Obata-san?"

Her grin widened. "Whatever would give you that idea, Kakashi-san? I was merely offering information."

Kaesa barged out of the kitchen door behind the bar carrying a tray laden with a rack of barbecued ribs and a wide, healthy bowl of miso soup. She sat the tray down in front of him, and his stomach gurgled eagerly as the perfect aroma set his nasal sensors on fire. He waited until Kaeda turned her back and Obata looked the other way before inhaling a quarter of the bowl of soup.

He settled his mask back atop his nose just as Obata looked back around at him. From the slight upward quirk of her eyebrows and lips, she wasn't so much surprised by his stealthy food consumption as she was amused.

She nodded in appreciation. "You're good, Hatake-san."

"I don't recognize your name from the Book," Kakashi observed. He took her compliment in stride; he rarely ever acknowledged compliments paid to him.

She shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't be much of a hunter-nin if you recognized me, now would I?"

"So, you do admit to being a hunter-nin?"

Obata reached across his arm and picked at the fatty edge of one of his ribs. "I wasn't aware they existed at all, of course. I'm just a civilian."

She had no discernable scars across the exposed parts of her anatomy (her face and arms), so he couldn't disprove her claim. She was also not wearing anything to represent the Land of Rice, so he couldn't determine whether she was a shinobi or not. If she was, he still didn't recognize her surname. To his immediate recollection, he could not recall anyone by the last name of Obata.

Kaeda peered over the bar. "Obata-san, it's getting rather late, isn't it?"

Obata checked the clock above Kaeda's head. It was nearly three in the afternoon; Kakashi had in the restaurant for nearly an hour. "It is, isn't it? I should be going, I guess."

"You would've stayed here the rest of the day if I hadn't said something," Kaeda huffed. The sweet waitress busied herself with arranging another tea tray to replace Kakashi's empty one.

"Well, you're not wrong," Obata said, standing up. She gathered up her small pack and slung it over her pack before draining the last of the liquid in her teacup. "I'll look for you at the wedding tomorrow, Kakashi-san."

Kakashi nodded, appreciating the redhead's form at her full height. "Perhaps we'll be arranged near each other."

Obata smirked. "I do hope so. We could steal the spotlight from the happy couple."

She was close to him, her hip nearly pressing into his side. He enjoyed the warmth and the sweet scent of orange blossoms (and, perhaps, the warm undertone of sake) drifting off of her, and he sincerely hoped that they _would_ be seated close together.

"We could," Kakashi agreed. He closed his visible eye for a moment, and when he opened it again, he was staring Obata straight in the face.

Obata leaned down and hooked her fingers under Kakashi's chin; she toyed with the clingy fabric of his mask, rubbing it between the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps then, if you feel up to it, you would like to meet me back here the day after tomorrow? Say around noon?"

Kakashi's fingers grazed her thigh, but he didn't actively make the move to hold her there. "I don't see why not."

Her lips were centimeters from grazing the fabric of his mask. "If I close my eyes, could I leave you with a little extra incentive to meet me here again?"

The temptation to close the tiny gap between them made him light-headed. "I insist that you do."

Obata closed her eyes and gently tugged his mask down past him lips. The light rubbing of the soft fabric was replaced by her smooth, warm lips on his. Kakashi almost couldn't bring himself to close his one visible eye; he wanted to watch her soft lips mold so perfectly to his. His hand snaked around her thigh, pulling her closer to him. She smirked into the kiss and pressed against him roughly, pushing him back in his seat.

When she pulled away, he followed; she pressed another softer, quicker kiss on on his lips before slipping his mask back up over his nose. When she opened her eyes, she smiled at him instead of smirking, affection brightening her grin.

She ran her thumb over his clothed bottom lip. The soft sensation sent a jolt all the way from his lips and down through his groin where it settled into a tingling sensation at the backs of his thighs. "No matter what happens at the wedding tomorrow, don't forget: Noon, Wednesday." She laced her fingers through the fingers of the hand currently holding her thigh and disentangled them from the fabric of her pants. "I'll be waiting."

"I'll be here."

Obata winked at him and gave a wave of her fingers before turning and exiting the restaurant.

From her spot behind the bar, Kaeda sighed as she wiped down a wet teacup with a clean cloth. "That girl is trouble."

Kakashi finished off his bowl of miso soup and began to rip the meat of his ribs from the bones. His experiences with women were few and far between, but from the few he had, trouble seemed to follow him. "What kind of trouble?"

Kaeda walked out from behind the bar and sat up on the stool, duties forgotten. "You know the kind of trouble that eventually ends up in kids and a decent family?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, she's not it," the woman replied, brushing a strand of graying hair out of her eyes. "I respect her deeply, but I don't understand her."

"I see." No, he didn't _really_ see, but he had the deepest suspicion that he was going to find out pretty quickly what the woman meant.

Kaeda studied him for the longest time, taking in everything from his expressionless eye to the way his fingers curled as if still gripping Obata's thigh. "No, you don't, but you will."

He didn't respond.

"But if I could give you some advice, Hatake-san, it would be this: Be better than the rest. Make her love you back."

When he pulled his money out, Kaeda assured him several times over that his meal had already been paid for. Kakashi finished his meal and left without paying.

* * *

**A/N:** The rating will go up to M in a couple of chapters. I include a warning at the beginning of all my sexy chapters, and I plan to have several in this story.

**2/26/2015:** Edits were made.


	2. Insurgent

_Every civilization is, among other things, an arrangement for domesticating the passions and setting them to do useful work. - Aldous Huxley_

* * *

Morning in the Land of Rice dawned clear and bright, and Kakashi was awake to watch the light of day bleed red and orange across the sky. The shinobi compound in the Rice Village was surprisingly comfortable and plush for a military facility. Even so, Kakashi had never been comfortable sleeping anywhere that wasn't home. He had gotten perhaps a healthy three hours of sleep in his unfamiliar setting, but he found it oddly satisfying to watch the sun rise, even at the price of rest.

The wedding would take place in less than six hours. At exactly eleven o'clock that morning, he would be seated in the second row on the bride's side of the room. He would not be focused on the happy couple. Instead, he would be eying the rest of the room for possible insurgents. Of course, since he was on vacation, he wasn't getting paid to make sure disaster didn't strike, but it was in his nature to remain constantly vigilant in all situations.

According to custom (and Sandaime Hokage), he would have to suffer the annoyance of sitting still for a long period of time dressed in nice clothing. His dress kimono hung from the knob near the top of the bathroom door; it was simple and black with spiraling silver designs spreading across it. It was also unbearably thick and hot, even in the cool weather.

Kakashi arched his back, stretching out the knots of exhaustion that had begun to form. He was tempted to sneak down into the kitchen to see if he could bribe one of the cooks to give him an early breakfast, but it was unlikely that the cooks would even arrive for work until around seven, more than an hour later.

Instead, he tugged his mask over his face, tied his headband on, and slipped out the window.

The morning air was cold and clear, as of yet untouched by the warming rays of the sun. Land of Rice had transitioned into late fall and still had a while before the first snow fell. He couldn't imagine that winter could be prettier than fall; the leaves on the trees were every shade of orange and red, yellow and brown. Fallen leaves crinkled under his feet as he walked through the cold morning. Kakashi had never seen the Land of Rice when it was snowed over, though it was rumored to turn the landscape into a beautiful powdered haven.

He walked down the deserted main street, crunching dead leaves as he went.

The tea shop from yesterday was the only shop that seemed to currently support life so early in the morning. A group of older men whom Kakashi assumed to be a handful of the village's older shinobi were crowded around the middle table inside. To their left, Kaeda carried a tray of tea.

The perfect smell of morning tea was too great to resist, so Kakashi succumbed to the urge to wander inside.

Kaeda bustled the tea tray over to the side and hurried over to where Kakashi sat. "Good morning, Hatake-san! I didn't expect to see you so early today!"

He had chosen to sit down at the table next to the old men, most of whom were staring at him with intense interest. "I didn't expect to be here. I hope you're doing well this morning, Kaeda-san."

"Oh, it's so early! I'm tired as can be! Can I get you some tea?" the waitress tittered brightly. When he nodded, she fled into the backroom to begin cooking up his mystery breakfast.

The old men continued to stare at him interestedly, but he paid them no mind. He was well-versed in the practice of ignoring annoying gapes and even more practiced in overlooking hushed comments. He had walked through villages of people stained by blood, carrying the heads of murderers in his hands. He had paraded through encampments of enemy refugees bearing the public order to kill their leader. He did not blush so easily under the stares of men.

One of the men finally spoke. "Hatake Kakashi? It's an honor to have you in the village."

Kakashi knew good and well that it was no such honor. He was a man that most people fled from; if anything, these elders saw him as more of an omen than an honor.

The man continued to speak. "May I be so curious as to ask why you've traveled all this way?"

Ah, yes, the innocent questioning of his business.

"I'm here for the wedding," Kakashi replied smoothly, accepting the steaming cup of tea that Kaeda handed to him. He set it down on it's coaster to cool. "Trying to use up some long overdue vacation time."

Another elder, a man with waist-length gray hair, nodded sagely. "Ah, yes. Have you been to see the wedding decorations? It's going to be an enormous party."

"I think I'll let the setting be a surprise." Kakashi swished his tea around in his cup. "As a shinobi, a positive surprise is always welcome."

The old men chuckled in agreement, sipping their scalding coffees and teas. They went back to tittering to themselves, occasionally stealing glances Kakashi's way whenever he tugged his mask down to take a sip of boiling hot tea.

Kakashi finished his tea and finally began to feel the fatigue of a sleepless night. He calculated the amount of sleep he could get before the wedding with the five hours left he had and surmised that a good two-hour nap was most definitely within his reach.

* * *

The old men had been fundamentally wrong about the grandeur of the wedding just by understating the sheer _size_ of it. It was being held inside a concert hall; the stage had been cleared away and a runway of thick red carpet had replaced it. Hundreds of chairs had been lined up on either side of the aisle in rows. The walls had even been painted brilliant blinding white for the occasion. Flowers lined the sides of the middle aisle and were wound through the diamond-shaped holes in the trellis arch.

Kakashi had been seated in the third row near the middle aisle, just as he had expected. It wasn't so close to the daimyo's son that he would look suspicious, but he wasn't so far away that he wouldn't be able to get to him should disaster strike. He was seated on the bride's side, so no one would be the wiser. In fact, he wasn't exactly out of place among the bride's family and friends.

Most of the guests on the bride's side were shinobi from the village. The men had obviously not been given a dress code; most, if not all, of the shinobi males wore the standard village uniform of black bodysuit and a gray flak jacket. The women wore unimpressive, austere kimonos, and a few of them were even still dressed in their jounin uniforms. Kakashi envied them; he was currently being suffocated by his heavy, stiff dress kimono.

The hall had filled up quickly; anyone who showed up late would be barred from the procession and would not be able to attend, therefore forfeiting bragging rights. This was standard procedure with political weddings, though Kakashi had been assured by several members on both the bride and groom's sides of the wedding that it was totally _not_ a political marriage. That was the funny thing about political marriages: they were _never, ever_ for power. They were _love stories_ about a man and a woman destined to meet. They were everything except power plays and wealth grabs.

Kakashi was curious as to who the bride was; that, he had not been able to find out. She was merely a daughter of the Hotaru clan; no name or age had been given, save her status as the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Rice Village.

The identity of the bride, Kakashi had been told, had been one of the biggest draws of the wedding, save for the fact that it was daimyo's son's wedding. She could be any one of the three daughters of the main branch of the Hotaru clan, two of whom were rarely ever seen due to their careers as kunoichi of the village. The third daughter acted as diplomat to the Land of Wind, and was therefore almost as hard to get hold of.

Truthfully, Kakashi was still at a loss as to why so many low-class knuckle-draggers who claimed to be part of the family had been invited, but he supposed that most families had their hillbillies hidden somewhere.

Fifteen minutes remained until the procession was slated to begin, and he had yet to spot a single member of his team. He hoped they remembered that the ceremony started at eleven; he had told them as much literally only two hours previously. Of course, he really wouldn't be surprised if they were having trouble forcing their charges to get a move on to get to the ceremony; as far as he could remember, his team had never been late (and had been the sole reason he himself hadn't missed their deadline).

Come to think of it, why had he been so early? It wasn't like he had to fight for seating. Perhaps he had developed an unhealthy interest in what was even taking place during the wedding? No, that didn't sound like him; he really had no interest other than a curiosity to find out who the bride was, and that was merely celebrity curiosity. Maybe he had just hoped that the sooner he got to the ceremony, the sooner he would be out of that dreadful kimono. Plus, he would be that much closer to his meeting with Obata-san.

Finally, his team had come through the door, each of the three jounin paired off with one of the hillbilly nobility. Machi, his second-in-command, looked irritated, but then she always seemed to be annoyed by something. The two other men seemed tired but content with their positions; the taller of the two was being manhandled by a woman three times his girth and the shorter man was being lavished with attention by a person whom Kakashi could not assign a binary gender to, and therefore reserved judgment.

Now that he had found his team, he could concentrate on trying to spot Obata. Not that he was desperate or anything; he would meet her again tomorrow. The concert hall was packed tight; there had to be nearly five-hundred people in attendance. As observant as Kakashi was, he would still be hard-pressed to spot her in the crowd, especially if she was anywhere near the back.

He totally, absolutely, was not being nosy. _At all.  
_

Kakashi's curiosity was staunched (barely), or at least redirected, as the procession slowly hummed to life. The first to walk out were the bridesmaids, who were escorted out arm in arm with the groomsmen, some looking happier than others. Each wore matching kimonos; dark plum for the bridesmaids, pastel pink for the groomsmen. The pairs separated as they neared the daimyo's son; the men fell in behind him, the women settled in off towards the side behind the bride's place.

As the final bridesmaid took her place, the bride stepped out onto the aisle escorted by her father, and Kakashi, well, no longer had to search for Obata.

The room burst into a chorus of hushed whispers. The woman was clad entirely in white. She strutted down the aisle attached securely to her father's arm, staring ahead with her chin lifted high. Everyone in the room was captivated, Kakashi included, though he was more confused than hopelessly enamored at that point. Still, she was breathtaking, and he almost wished he was in the daimyo's son's position. Almost. (He really had no intention of getting married, if he even lived that long.)

As Obata passed by the third aisle where Kakashi was seated, she picked out his face in the crowd and caught his eye. Her gaze flickered over his face, tinged with an emotion that he couldn't place, then she turned her attention forward to the man who would become her husband.

Had she been intending to tell him that she was married? Had she even believed him when he said he was attending the wedding? She was a kunoichi, was she not? Statistically, she had a sixty-six percent chance of being a kunoichi if two of the three sisters were. So of course she knew his reputation since she had mentioned him by his nickname; she had most likely seen through his lies the moment he told them.

Kakashi's next question was, would she even show up at the tea shop tomorrow? And if she wasn't planning to, why had she kissed him?

He supposed he would find out at noon.

The non-kunoichi women in the vicinity were all sniffling and dabbing at their eyes delicately with tissues. A few of the men were even wiping emphatically at their cheeks with the sleeves of their uniforms. Personally, Kakashi had never been one to regard weddings as events special enough to cry at, particularly not this one. The daimyo's son looked as though he was already half-drunk and ready to dive into the sake. The groomsmen were eyeing the bridesmaids relentlessly, and the bridesmaids looked to be too tired to even function. Obata stared ahead blankly as if she were silently praying for for lightning to strike on the wedding. In all likelihood, she probably was.

Frankly, he was three lines of fake vows away from falling asleep in his chair.

"And do you, Hotaru Obata, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest watched her expectantly, his hand held outward waiting to join the two together.

Obata hesitated, but Kakashi doubted that anyone but him noticed. "I do."

The priest nodded to the daimyo's son. "Then you may now kiss the bride."

The nobleman swept his new bride backwards and planted a sound, wet kiss on her lips. Kakashi would have been lying if he said he didn't want to dig the man's fingernails out with own bare hands; he suppressed his desires quickly. He had done worse to better men for less than kissing a girl he liked. It was best if he pushed the thought of (in his opinion) well-deserved murder out of his mind.

Kakashi caught a flash of Obata's severely irritated face before the new bride slapped on a sucrose happy smile.

An irritated bride was not a bride who wanted to be at her wedding. Obata was irritated about her predicament, which meant two things: she didn't want to be a bride, and she wasn't on a mission.

All shinobi are trained actors; they have to be in order to play their roles effectively. Any shinobi worth their paycheck would have been able to slap on a happy grin and kiss back with some enthusiasm, but Obata looked more or less personally offended by physical contact with her groom. That was neither a shinobi on a mission, nor a happy bride.

The likely reason for her irritation was that she had been caught in the middle of her family's attempt at a power play and forced to go along with it. Kakashi had seen the same thing happen in Konoha several times; such activities came with the territory of being born into a tight-knit clan. In Konoha, if a child carried the name Hyuga or Sarutobi, they were almost guaranteed the same fate.

Perhaps, if he asked her, she would tell him, and perhaps she would explain why she wanted to see him again.

If the kiss was any indication, she didn't want to see him because he was a great conversationalist.

The bride stepped away from her groom sooner than was customary at weddings, but didn't begin the long trek back down the aisle. Instead, she reluctantly grasped his elbow, clutching at the man's arm with nails that looked suspiciously more like talons than neatly manicured nails.

From the corner of his eye, Kakashi caught movement from the groom's side. Someone raised a hand, preparing to throw something that was decidedly not flowers or rice. Kakashi didn't dare move; whoever was raising their hand was not the shinobi to be worried about. That one, a boy who hardly looked to have even hit puberty, was an obvious distraction.

The daimyo's son had not picked up on the movement, but his new wife had. She hadn't moved, hadn't even tensed up, but her eyes flickered over the boy with deadly intent, and the child paled in response. He lowered his hand, but her eyes kept searching, searching for the true insurgent.

Kakashi caught the movement from his angle before she was able to see it from hers. All at once, the three members of his team sprang up to tackle the shinobi who was running full speed at the daimyo's son. Kakashi lunged and yanked both the bride and the groom down and drug them off to the side.

The daimyo's son lolled half-drunk and confused, crouching down behind the stage and trembling like a girl. He tucked his head down in his arms, and that was where he stayed. Obata kneeled beside Kakashi, who had his hand on the small of her back. She glared at her new husband and rolled her eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Kakashi asked, mumbling quietly into her ear.

Obata shook her head. "I'm fine. I had a hunch that something would happen."

"Pretty good hunch for a _civilian_," he teased, quietly so that only she could hear.

She smirked, but placed a finger to her lips signaling him to hush. "Not here, tomorrow. Go tend to your team. It looks like they've got our insurgent."

Kakashi nodded, and left the two behind the stage. If there was only one insurgent, as there appeared to be, then the pair was in no real trouble. If the shinobi really was connected to some sort of political uprising, there would be more insurgents, wouldn't there? Somehow, Kakashi got the feeling that the attacker was more of a fluke, or maybe a publicity stunt, than anything serious.

The attacker was a teenager maybe a couple of years younger than himself. The boy trembled; he couldn't have been more than a chunin. He seemed to realize that he was being faced by four shinobi of a higher rank; word vomit was threatening to spill out of his mouth in front of the entire wedding party.

Kakashi gave him a once-over, his visible eye cold and discerning. He turned to Machi. "Take him to a holding cell. I'll see that this mess gets straightened up."

Machi nodded. "Do you want us to interrogate him?"

The boy trembled. He didn't need interrogating; he's probably just spill his guts on the way to the cell.

"Get what you can get out of him, then leave the rest to the Rice Village." Kakashi winked at his lieutenant. "We're just here for the wedding, right?"

The two men from the team took the boy by the arm and led him out. Machi folded her arms over her chest and looked out at the wedding party. A group of several jounin was racing up and down the aisles, corralling people back to their seats so that they could watch the newly wedded couple walk out. The priest was trying to coax the daimyo's son out from behind the stage. Obata just looked on in exasperation, occasionally interjecting that they should just forget walking out and get on with the day.

Machi nodded. "Right, just here for the wedding. We didn't just end up neck-deep in a political uprising or anything."

Kakashi chuckled. "If that's what this was supposed to be, this was the most pathetic uprising I've ever seen."

His lieutenant watched as a Rice Village jounin was punched in the face by a wedding guest. "Somehow, I don't think this was meant to be serious."

"You're right, but we'll worry about it later, once you've gotten the information and I've sent a letter to the Hokage."

Machi turned to leave, eyeing Obata while the woman stood alone in front of the wedding party. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, taicho."

Kakashi caught her sideways glance. "I know what I'm doing, lieutenant."

"Do you, Kakashi? Really?" Machi asked as she walked out.

She patted Obata on the shoulder as she passed and murmured something to her that Kakashi couldn't hear, then she flashed a look over her shoulder. Another wordless warning, be careful.

* * *

**A/N: **I rewrote the second half of the chapter. It fits a little better now, I think.


	3. Exhibition

_Why not seize the pleasure at once, how often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparations. ~ Jane Austen_

* * *

At the age of nineteen, Kakashi was the youngest ANBU shinobi captain in the history of Konoha. By the age of twelve, he had already killed scores of men and had been a key instrument in several victories during the Shinobi War. His abilities were already whispered to be legendary, and his name had been in the infamous BINGO Book since he was thirteen years old. He had long accepted that his chances of retiring as an emotionally and mentally stable productive citizen were slim to none, and his chances of having any sort of family were smaller than even that.

Yet, Kakashi was still a teenager, and he was a little nervous about his date.

Could he really even call this a date? He had no flowers, no intentions of being sweet or even really gentlemanly, no idea who his date really even was. All he knew was that he was sitting in a tiny little tea shop, in a cozy booth, waiting for a married woman of yet-undetermined age, social status, and danger level to show up and maybe have fun with him.

So maybe it was sort of a blind date?

Kaeda sat across from him, biting her lip and scrubbing mindlessly at a perfectly clean spot on the table. The waitress had kept him supplied with tea for nearly thirty minutes now; as a consequence, Kakashi's tongue was raw from being repeatedly burned by cup after cup of scalding tea.

The poor waitress had been apologizing to him for nearly as long as she'd been torturing his tongue. "I should have told you, but I wasn't even supposed to know."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Kaeda-san."

Kaeda shook her head; the woman was lost in her own thoughts and hadn't heard a word he'd said for the past ten minutes. "I'm going to give her a what-for for dragging you into this mess. This whole village is a wreck. This whole situation is just terrible."

"Kaeda!"

She blinked. "Yes, dear?"

Kakashi folded his arms over his chest. "The entire village knows she's the bride now. She'll be on lockdown, or at least unable to leave her compound."

"No, she'll show up. She liked you." Kaeda began to absently wipe the several empty tea cups on the table with her cloth. "Besides, _she's _not on lockdown, _he_ is. They won't even be allowed within walking distance of each other until they leave Saturday for the honeymoon."

How did the waitress know all this? Was she really that close to Obata? Did she have that many connections? Kakashi decided not to ask; too many cans of worms to open on that one.

Kakashi was beginning to think he had gotten himself into the very mess that he had warned his team not to get themselves into. Wasn't he supposed to be smarter than this? He had more willpower than several men smushed into one, and yet he had been enticed by a woman whom he didn't even know. He had been successful in controlling his hormones for nineteen years, so what was different now?

Vacation. It had to be vacation. Nasty, terrible ideas happened when he was on vacation. He should really get up and leave, just head back to the shinobi compound and forget about Obata and her red hair and tan skin and soft lips and _that kiss_ and that sharp jolt in his groin when she slid her finger across his bottom lip through his mask _and_ -

He had the most ridiculous boner and he _couldn't even adjust it_. And there was this tiny, hot bud in his chest that felt suspiciously like affection, but he couldn't make it go away _just like he couldn't get rid of this giant aching boner, fucking hell._

Kakashi desperately wished she would hurry up and get here so he could ask her questions and maybe, possibly, kiss her again.

He had to distract himself somehow, so he sipped his tea under the cover of his hand. Once he had safely jerked his mask back up, be returned his attention to Kaeda. "Why aren't they allowed to see each other yet?"

Kaeda peered out the store window. "As many political marriages as you've seen, I'm sure you can guess."

A political marriage between shinobi always carried the danger of assassination shortly thereafter. Kakashi himself had been an assassin on occasion, though in this case, there was a strong possibility that they were keeping Obata away from her new groom out of fear _she_ might do the deed. "I'm sure that not everyone considers this to be a tactful marriage."

"The level of secrecy surrounding this mess… there's a reason her identity was kept ambiguous," Kaeda replied. "Too many power players looking for a move to make. There were several threats to simply kidnap all three sisters, but that would have been too much trouble. Abduction is messy; too high of a chance for too many losses, particularly with these three."

Kakashi nodded. He had seen this in Konoha before, but not to this extent. Kohona was relatively calm in the realm of power players, though there was an ambitious set that he was determined to have nothing to do with.

Kaeda continued. "Though at this point, they may be more concerned about what Obata will do to him. She was… Disapproving would be a polite term. I don't believe she would harm him, though; she knows what that would mean for her. There are safer ways to show dissent."

"Like meeting me?"

Kaeda sighed. "She shouldn't have brought you into this. She liked you too much."

He shrugged. "I can't yet say whether that's good or bad."

"Perhaps it's both."

Two heads snapped around to find Obata lounging lazily in the booth behind them. She grinned. "Don't stop on my account."

Kaeda tossed the towel at her. "It's not polite to sneak up on people, Obata-san."

Obata winked at Kakashi, and caught the towel with relative ease. "It's not polite to gossip, either."

Kakashi smirked appreciatively. She had not confirmed it, and likely never would, but she must have been an excellent hunter nin. Few people were stealthy enough to sneak up on him, and fewer still possessed the skill to startle him. The few that could were likely either dead or far more experienced than he was, and a large majority of _those _people fell into the category of hunter nin.

Kaeda stood up. "I suppose now that you're here, my business is required elsewhere."

Obata shrugged. "Don't leave because of me. This is _your_ restaurant."

The waitress shook her head. "I can't do anything to help your situation, so at least let me ease it a bit. I'm closing shop for the day. Do as you please, just be wary of your surroundings. And don't make a mess."

Kaeda began closing the windows and locking the doors. She slapped a paper sign on the front entrance that denoted the inconvenience. Obata busied herself with cleaning off the tables; she swept through the room quickly, tossing dishes into a bucket while she danced around the waitress. Kakashi merely sat there and observed; he still carried the overwhelming suspicion that Kaeda wasn't quite the waitress that she seemed.

She nodded to Obata before she left. "Your room is exactly the way you left it the last time you were here."

"Of course it is," Obata replied simply, and waved her friend off. Kaede left without another word.

Kakashi leaned back in his booth. "I don't suppose this is the right time to ask you about the married life?"

She slid into the booth next to him, and he found himself being straddled by the redhead. "I think that's only fair, now that you know what you've been dragged into."

Kakashi gripped her thighs gently, his clothed mouth barely an inch from hers. "Perhaps later…"

She reached up and cupped his chin in her hands. Her thumb ran over his bottom lip, and she smirked when he shivered. So she had noticed his reaction last time; he would never in his life complain about showing that particular weakness. "Later is good. Questions can come later. Now…"

He slid his mouth along the inside of her palm. "Now we move somewhere less cramped."

"And here I was, planning on defiling this booth…"

"There's an idea," he replied, sliding his hands along her thighs. "But what I had planned requires more space."

"As you wish." She slid out of his lap and beckoned him to follow her.

The room upstairs was sparse, but functional. There was a mattress in the middle of the floor, piled high with blankets and pillows. The chair in the corner was weighted down with a neat stack of folded clothes. Books and scrolls and carelessly discarded weapons littered the floor.

Kakashi paused at the threshold of the room. "I do have a small request…"

Obata turned to him and extracted a length of black cloth from her back pocket. Kakashi allowed her to hand him the cloth. "Trust is something hard-won, isn't it?"

"How did you know?"

She shrugged, and wound her hair up into a tight bun so that he could tie the cloth over her eyes. "Masks are worn for a reason, but they do tend to get in the way in situations like this. Why over-complicate things? Besides, I rather enjoy the thrill."

He tied the cloth gently, but tightly around her head. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable."

"You've done this before. I trust you."

"But do you know that for sure?"

He had, on occasion, done this before, but rarely. There were few shinobi partners (or civilian partners for that matter) who were comfortable enough in his presence to be willingly blindfolded, but he refused to let anyone see his face. Things were safer that way.

She reached up blindly and fumbled for his chin. She picked at the cloth covering his face and tugged it down. "It's in the way you tied the blindfold. Not too tight, but it'll stay. Shinobi don't usually care if blindfolds are uncomfortable. They always tie them too tight."

"And how would you know that? I thought you were a civilian," he teased, brushing her lips with his thumb.

She smirked. "That's right. I am, aren't I?"

Kakashi pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it over in the corner. His shoes and pants followed, ending up somewhere on the other side of the room. She allowed him to tug her top and underclothes off carefully so that the blindfold wouldn't budge.

It was almost romantic, if either participant had been inclined to call it such. Alone, secluded in a cozy little room with a bedroll and the sugary scent of morning tea and pastries still clinging to the fabric in the room. The skin to skin contact encapsulated the entire event; warm, firm touches punctuated by long kisses and a playful pinch here and there. Kakashi felt goosebumps under his fingers; the lack of sight had made her ultimately more sensitive for him so that she gasped and giggled when he slid his hands under her underwear and pinched the soft flesh there.

She slid her hands down his body, the tips of her fingers sliding along his skin and bumping against hard ridges of muscle carved from years of physical exertion. She found the hem of his underwear and wiggled them down over his hips, dropping them to the floor. His cock jutted upward, full and flushed pink against the cool air.

Kakashi grasped her thighs and picked her up, carrying her over to the bedroll. He settled himself over her and kissed her hard, busying himself with her mouth against his. Her legs wrapped tight around him, one leg encircling his waist while the other pressed just under his ass, drawing him flush against her.

He trailed his lips along her cheek, stopping at her ear. She whined at the loss of contact with his mouth. He whispered as if someone would hear, "Do you still trust me?"

Her nod, followed by the subsequent whimper, was what he needed. He dropped down between her thighs and pulled away the fabric that covered her, kissing her slit while she whined high and loud. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him back up to her level.

Kakashi lined himself up with her slick entrance and slowly pushed inside. He propped himself up on one elbow while his free other hand stroked the connected juncture where he ended and she began. His thumb teased her, gliding along her inner thigh and entrance, occasionally stroking the tiniest bit of his exposed shaft. He didn't begin to move until he could see that she was sweating, and that if he didn't, it was likely she would bite clean through her own lip.

After what seemed like the longest moment of his life, he moved. He pulled back until just the tip of his shaft still teased her and snapped his hips forward, driving back in. She whined, spouting words that she must have just made up on the spot, because they consisted of syllables and half-formed curses.

He kissed her, silencing her curses, and was rewarded with a sharp bite to his lip that made him thrust that must harder.

Kakashi pressed his lips to her ear and growled. "Do that again and I'll tie you up next time."

She panted, arching up into him as he rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot. Her nails dug into his back, adding new pink scars to old dull ridges. "Don't tempt me or I might bite your whole lip off."

Kakashi shifted his hips, gaining a new angle that drastically strained his control. Her words in his ear, urging him on, praising him - he didn't even _know_ he had a kink for that - and begging him had coalesced into a thundering pulse, a beating sensation that pulsed in time with his thrusts. The edges of his vision blackened, and he held on just long enough to hear her half-moan his name and bite her lip before he let that blissful, curling sensation in his balls blossom into hypersensitive relief.

He slid himself out and cleaned them both up quickly, efficiently, before sliding his mask over his face. The rest of his clothes were left discarded here and there; he just needed his face covered before he removed her blindfold. He tugged the cloth away from her face gently, careful not to snag her hair.

"Don't go to sleep," Kakashi warned, groping over his head for a blanket that had been lying in a wrinkled heap for who knows how long. "I have questions and they'll be looking for you soon."

Obata stretched, arching into his side in such a way that all of her exposed bits and pieces pressed against him in a maddeningly enticing way. "And here I was, looking forward to a little afterglow. Or another round."

He smirked, pinching her bottom so that she squealed. "Later. I'd like some answers."

"Promises, promises." She winked, gathering a bedsheet around her to stave off the chill in the room. "I'll tell you as much as I can, but you have to ask the right questions."

That honestly wasn't something Kakashi had to be told, although he got the feeling that her answers might not really apply to the questions he asked. "Why me?"

"The better question would be, why _not_ you?" Obata replied, resting her cheek on her closed fist.  
"I left my family's compound that morning engaged to someone I'd rather have been given the order to assassinate. You looked like a lot better choice than imprisonment for treason."

Not a real answer. "You had an entire village of people who would have been willing to do this with you. It's excellent blackmail."

She shrugged. "My original plan was different. I saw you in the cafe and lept at the opportunity. I only had to hope that you liked me as much as I predicted I would like you."

"So you needed someone who wouldn't blackmail you; the threat had to be large enough to keep both of us quiet."

Obata smirked, leaning over to press a kiss to his exposed shoulder. "You don't seem to mind."

He rolled his eyes, quietly pleased. "Not as much as I tried to force myself to."

"Next question."

Kakashi hummed. "Why did you marry the daimyo's son?"

"Ah, the million dollar question," she replied, busying herself with the soft silver hairs at the base of his skull. Her nails scratched lightly over his scalp; had he been a weak man, he would have fallen asleep or arched his back like an overgrown cat. He was not in danger of dozing off, not in the slightest. "On paper, I was the safe choice."

"The quiet middle child of the powerful family who has no shinobi training?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I sense a prior involvement?"

Several, actually. Kakashi neither confirmed nor denied. "Intuition, not that it would have been necessary if he'd seen your picture. I would have picked you, too."

"Scandalous," she said, trailing her fingers down his neck. Few people had done such a thing without a funeral service soon afterward. "I'm all yours."

Kakashi slid his arm around her and pulled her into his side. "I doubt you could really be anyone's."

She shrugged again. "We're two of a kind then, aren't we, Kakashi? Next question."

"What's with the power grab? The war is over."

"You and I would be leading very different lifestyles if wars ever ended," Obata replied, laying her head on his shoulder. "Every village in the vicinity is making power grabs, not to mention all the separate clans asking how high to jump. What's one little girl in exchange for money and manpower?"

"I like you better."

"You'd be the only one, then. Next question."

"What do you want from this?"

She shifted, pushing herself up so that she was lying mostly on top of him. "I like this. You, and questions, and possible blackmail."

"What about your husband?"

"I _don't_ like him. Let's go back to the part about you tying me up, hmm?"

Kakashi was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

**A/N:** More to come, darlings. This is going to be a long fic.


End file.
