𐙚 like i would mini series : fem!reader x kakashi hatake. (au)
𐙚 context: after years of your break up with kakashi, he makes sure you understand that no other man would love you like he would.
𐙚 chapter 2/4 - word count: 4072 ch: 1
authors note: here’s chapter two, so yeah, i was completely out of my mind yayyy ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ I told you i was gonna give you a bigger chapter, pspsps, before reading i wanna let you guys know that this fanfic have bittersweet moments and the other dude is visually inspired by joo jaekyung from the jinx manhwa. i don’t wanna hear how how shitty he was in the manhwa, believe me I KNOW, but he is just too damn hot—i need him to take part on the story sue me, but besides he being the visual inspiration for the other guy there’s nothing else. I reviewed the chapter, but my apologies for any typo or any mistakes! Anyways, live laugh fuck us kakashi. Amen, good read sweetie <3. (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)
The silk beneath your fingers matched the summer dawn outside the window; it felt fluid, bright, and completely weightless.
The fruits of your lifelong labor were finally here. You had loved fashion since you were a little girl; fifteen years ago, you were just the daughter of farmers living outside Konoha’s walls. You had come to the great Leaf Village with nothing but a dream of starting your own boutique, working tireless hours in different shops to save money while taking on simple clothing orders; you went from sewing a ripped uniform for a shinobi to designing simple dresses for low-rank shinobi wife’s. It wasn’t until you turned twenty that you were finally able to afford the keys to your own modest storefront.
Now, ten years later, you were standing in your studio, in the back of your store, watching the showroom buzz with life. Three employees moved gracefully between five customers, all browsing the racks of your original designs. The view brought a profound sense of warmth to your heart; you smiled at the thought that you had actually made it.
The road had been rocky, and your business had struggled immensely; especially five years ago, when you were grieving something, or someone who was still alive; in the immediate aftermath of that heartbreak, you had aggressively weaponized your craft simply to survive. You buried your thoughts and unhealed feelings under an endless mountain of orders, pouring every single ounce of your remaining emotional and mental endurance into your designs.
But the pain became your catalyst. What had once been a good local clothing store was now a blooming powerhouse with your name proudly displayed at the door.
You began traveling to other lands in search of rare inspiration, seeking out unique cultural experiences to help define your style and build your brand. You were finally achieving the exact dream that a younger version of yourself had held close. The heavy, lingering fog had cleared; your life was finally, beautifully back in place.
But you wouldn’t have done it entirely alone. Kurenai and Shizune had been your anchors for the last five years, even as shinobi themselves, bound to the same exhausting world that had fractured your heart once, they chose to walk with you through every step of your recovery.
They consistently showed up for you, shielding your newfound peace with a fierce, protective devotion. They helped you navigate the hardest time of your life, offering an unwavering support that never once required his name to be mentioned to validate your pain.
Yet, moving on didn't mean suffering from amnesia. Sometimes, on the quiet stroll home after a long day at your studio, the village itself would betray you still.
Sometimes when you passed by one of his favorite bookstores, your eyes would instinctively track the new releases displayed in the window, and a faint ache would bloom behind your ribs. It wasn’t a desperate longing anymore, just an unfortunate heavy note of nostalgia for the version of Kakashi that existed in a very distant past. The man who used to curl up on your couch with green tea in hand, reading aloud while his fingers traced idle patterns into your hip.
It was a brief, bittersweet pause; a small acknowledgment of a past life that no longer belonged to you, or at least you thought.
"If you stare at that pattern any longer, you're going to burn a hole right through it."
The voice was low, rich, and alive, instantly making you smile widely. You looked up, a genuine smile instantly erasing the lingering thoughts of the bookstore.
Standing in the doorway to the staff area was Kaiza. He stood with his arms folded over his broad chest, his dark, unruly hair falling into sharp, intense eyes that looked directly at you. His loose linen shirt was laced casually at the collar, completely open, exposing the warm skin of his throat. Kaiza was a chef who absolutely loved to spoil you, and for the past two months, he had become your safe haven.
It all started three months ago during a girls' night out with Kurenai and Shizune. They had taken you to check out a newly opened restaurant in the district. The short-haired one had ended up getting pretty wasted, talking absolutely nonsense most of the time and explain to us how Kurenai got the prettiest perfect size tits and a body that could make any man’s head spin, especially a certain Mr. Asuma. Shizune wasn't wrong; everyone thought that. Kurenai and I laughed until our stomachs ached because we knew that shizune would be completely out of it tomorrow.
The chaotic night had ended with you and Kurenai literally carrying Shizune out of the establishment. It was a massive struggle, since every two steps, Shizune tried to break free and sprint back inside to finish the remaining sake bottles under the excuse she wouldn’t be able to do it again until god knows when. Just as your arms were giving out, Kaiza had stepped out of the door behind you three and like a true gentleman, he offered his help, lifting a rapidly sleeping Shizune into his arms and carrying her while you and Kurenai guided him.
Once you finally reached the apartment, Kurenai announced she was staying overnight to make sure Shizune would be fine in the morning, but before crossing the threshold, she made sure to speak firm enough for the strange man to hear; she casually dropped that she was an elite Jonin for the Leaf, and that Shizune was a deadly shinobi herself; when not wasted. It was a blatant, highly effective warning in case he tried anything funny.
Back then, Kaiza didn't even flinch; he simply lifted his hands in a peaceful, defensive gesture that clearly signaled I wouldn’t dare.
Assuring the crimson-eyed woman that you were heading straight home, Kaiza warmly offered to walk you the rest of the way. Right before the door clicked shut, Kurenai poked her head out one last time, glaring down at him to make absolutely sure he took her threat seriously. He did, in fact, to the point that the silent threat still felt relevant even in the present day.
The walk had been nice and filled with laughs from the both of you when he admitted to being scared of Kurenai. Through a couple of easy chats here and there, you learned he was actually the owner and head chef of the restaurant you had just left; he had been wrapping up a long shift to head home when he spotted you and the girls struggling on the sidewalk.
After that night, the universe seemed determined to keep tossing you into each other's paths. You would randomly run into him at the morning markets, where he was hand-selecting fresh produce for his kitchen and you were shopping for your empty fridge.
A week later, you bumped into him again outside your favorite tea shop; he had immediately paid for your drink, and then both of you decided to walk on the sunny street corner while he just listened to you talk about your love for clothes.
After a third accidental run-in at the dango stand, Kaiza had finally smiled, looked you dead in the eye, and asked you out on a proper, official date to a quiet spot on the edge of the village.
From then on, the dynamic had evolved. It started with late-night drinks and casual hookups, but it had steadily deepened into something beautifully intentional. He didn't come with a countdown timer, and he most definitely stayed for the entirety of every single date.
"I brought the beef noodles you liked from the test kitchen," Kaiza said, stepping into your workroom and immediately grounding the space with his presence. “No spicy seasoning this time, since you can’t even handle a single lick of Rayu anymore”.(rayu: Japanese chili oil). He set the steaming container on your table, casually nudging a stray spool of thread out of the way.
"I handled it perfectly fine until your recipe burned my tastebuds off," you shot back, rolling your eyes playfully as you smoothed down the fabric of the dress you were working on. "A chef shouldn't be weaponizing his spice against innocent civilians."
Kaiza let out a rich, booming chuckle that instantly filled the quiet room. "You've been sewing since the last time I was here,” he noted smoothly, completely ignoring your defense as he walked around the long worktable to step right up behind you; his close proximity cast a sudden, comforting wave of heat over your shoulders. “And I was literally here this morning. Step away from the mannequin and let me take care of you for thirty minutes."
You turned around to face him, stepping directly into his space and letting his strong arms wrap securely around your waist. When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were warm, tasting faintly of ginger and star anise; there was no hesitation in his touch, no underlying fear of a sudden summoning scroll violently tearing him away from your side.
"You're a lifesaver, Mr. Togashi," you murmured against his jaw, leaning your entire weight into him.
"I know," he chuckled, his fingers lightly kneading the tension out of your lower back. "Now sit. Eat. Tell me how the trade meeting with the Suna merchants went, and later I'm dragging you out to the restaurant tonight. I'm finalizing the private booth menu, and I need my best critic."
By the time dusk painted the village in deep shades of indigo and violet, the boutique was finally locked for the night. Walking down the bustling main street, your fingers were loosely intertwined with Kaiza’s. He was telling a story about a spice market in the Land of Lightning, his deep laughter echoing softly against the storefronts. His palm was broad, warm and anchored against your side.
For the first time in so many years you felt completely visible. You weren't a secret kept in an apartment; you were a woman being proudly led into the light.
Meanwhile, only a few hundred yards away, the vibrant energy of the village felt entirely detached from the heavy silence hovering over the Jonin standby station.
Kakashi leaned against a wooden railing, his hands buried deep in his pockets as Asuma stood beside him, lazily exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. They had just returned from a gruelling, week-long scouting mission near the border, their bodies exhausted.
Asuma was speaking about the mission report having to be at Tsunade's desk by the next morning, his voice low and steady. Kakashi nodded along out of habit, his lone visible eye tracking the crowd with passive vigilance.
Then, his entire universe came to a violent halt.
A familiar silhouette stepped into the glow of a street lantern, Kakashi’s breathing locked in his throat. His visible pupil dilated in an instant, a sharp, physical jolt of recognition firing straight through his chest.
It had been five years. Five years of agonizing silence, of forcing himself to try to stop thinking about you, of convincing his own fractured soul that letting you go was the only noble thing he had ever done. He had memorized the shape of your sadness on that final night, but seeing you now, the contrast was staggering.
You were still breathtaking, just like he remembers. The dark circles under your eyes were entirely gone; your long hair caught the low breeze flowing and your posture relaxed, and radiantly alive. Your eyes shone with a light that had been completely missing during the rocky final months of you and him.
But the air left Kakashi's lungs entirely when his eye traced the path of your arm down to your hand, firmly, comfortably locked inside the grasp of another man.
Kakashi’s gaze locked onto Kaiza. His shinobi instincts, usually reserved for lethal threats, began furiously analyzing the stranger man. He didn't know who this man was. He didn't know where you were going. All he could see was a man who stood with absolute confidence; wearing comfortable, open linen that didn't carry the weight of a flak jacket. Kakashi watched as the man leaned down, whispering something in your ear that made you throw your head back and laugh, a genuine, unburdened sound that Kakashi hadn't heard from you in the final six months of your relationship.
A suffocating wave of something similar to a planet caught in their orbit, and bitter jealousy roared to life inside Kakashi's chest, hot and punishing. A thought echoed sharply in his mind, dark and unbidden, born from a desperate, bleeding ego.
At the same time, Asuma trailed off mid-sentence. He had noticed the sudden, rigid shift in his friend's shoulders, the way the usually lazy, slouching man had gone entirely static, his posture wired like a wire under tension. Asuma followed the line of Kakashi's vacant, hyper-fixated stare across the crowded street until his eyes landed on you and Kaiza.
Asuma took a slow, heavy drag from his cigarette, a profound wave of sympathy washing over him. Because of his own relationship with Kurenai, Asuma understood the brutal toll of loving someone while bound to the shinobi life. Kurenai had told him how much you had suffered before the break and after, and how hard you had worked to rebuild your personal life from the ashes.
"Kakashi," Asuma muttered softly, the smoke curling around his bearded face as he spoke in a low, warning tone. He didn't look at his friend, keeping his eyes on the crowd to protect whatever dignity Kakashi had left. "Let it be. You gave up the right to look at her like that the second you crossed the door."
Kakashi didn't answer right away. His knuckles turned white inside his pockets, his eye remained entirely anchored to your back as you and Kaiza turned the corner toward the newer district of the village, disappearing from his sight but burning a permanent, agonizing image into his mind.
Once the last flash of your coat vanished around the stone corner; the street seemed to darken instantly in your absence, keeping Kakashi entirely frozen. A suffocating silence hung over the two men.
Asuma didn't push immediately. He let the silence breathe, watching the embers of his cigarette burn down to a sharp orange point before flicking the ash over the edge. He knew the volatile nature of a man’s regret; he had stared it down in his own mirror more times than he cared to admit.
"She looks well, Kakashi," Asuma said quietly, his voice low and steady. It wasn't meant to wound; it was just an unavoidable truth.
Kakashi didn't move a single muscle. His lone visible eye remained locked on the empty corner where you had been just seconds before, his pupil still tightly dilated from the shock of seeing you. The image of your hand resting so naturally in Kaiza’s palm was burned into his retinas. Since the break up, he had convinced himself that you were simply working on your business, that you were safe, and that his absence was a shield protecting you from his chaotic world. He had never prepared himself for the reality of you replacing him, even after five years.
"She does," Kakashi finally replied. His voice was raspy, stripped entirely of its usual casual cadence. It sounded hollow, like a man speaking from the bottom of a well.
"Kurenai tells me her business is expanding to the other villages," Asuma continued, turning his back to the street to lean his elbows against the railing, giving his friend some space to breathe. "She's been grinding like crazy these last years. Works herself ragged. Kurenai says she’s finally smiling again.”
The words struck Kakashi with the blunt-force of a physical blow. Smiling again. It meant that during their final six months together, he had been the one draining the light out of your face.
He remembered the dark circles under your eyes on the night of the breakup, the redness of your nose, the tears sliding down your face, the absolute finality in your posture, and the devastating realization that he had become the villain in your life just by trying to survive his missions.
"Who is he?" Kakashi asked. The question tore out of him before he could stop it. It was a weak, deeply human inquiry that felt entirely foreign on the tongue of Konoha's most lethal captain.
Asuma glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, noting the rigid, tension running through Kakashi’s shoulders. "I don’t know much about him, but his name is Kaiza Togashi. Apparently a chef who opened that high-end place down in the new district last month." Asuma paused, letting the description sink in before adding the most critical statement.
Kakashi closed his eye, a deep, exhausting ache blooming behind his eyelids. The bitter, possessive instinct that had flared up when he saw Kaiza whisper in your ear was still simmering in his chest, making him feel entirely unraveled. He wondered what the man had said to make you laugh like that. He wondered how soft that man’s hands were to make you grip them so tightly, and how warm his body was to make you want to stay so close. He wondered if anything in that man reminded you of him. Kakashi wanted to despise the man, wanted to find a flaw in his posture or a threat in his open demeanor, but there was nothing.
The stranger was just a good man holding the hand of an amazing woman Kakashi had abandoned.
"You both made a choice years ago," Asuma said, his voice dropping into a firmer, older brother tone as he tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his sandal. "You told her she deserved someone who could stay. You were right then, and you're right now. Don't go tearing down the peace she finally found just because it hurts to see her living it."
Kakashi remained silent for a long moment, the cool night breeze ruffling his silver hair.
"I know," Kakashi murmured, his voice returning to that flat, unreadable slate that the everyone knew so well. He pushed himself off the railing, his posture instantly melting back into his trademark lazy, slouched demeanor , a perfect mask over a bleeding soul. "I'm just tired from the mission. I'm going to head home. You can take care of the mission report."
Asuma watched him walk away into the shadows of the street, his heart heavy for his friend. He knew Kakashi wouldn't sleep tonight; he knew the man would spend the dark hours pacing his empty apartment, haunted by the ghost of a civilian girl who had finally stepped into the light.
The transition from the cool breezy main street into Kaiza’s restaurant felt like stepping directly into a furnace of warmth and life. The establishment was stunning; the architecture blended polished cedar wood with minimalist paper screens, completely filled with the rich, intoxicating aromas of toasted sesame, ginger, and rich bone broths.
Thriving under Tsunade’s economic boom, the main dining room was completely packed with local civilians and off-duty shinobi. Yet, the moment Kaiza slid open the heavy door to the private booth in the back, the bustling noise of Konoha melted away into a quiet, intimate sanctuary.
"Welcome back to my office," Kaiza murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile as he gestured for you to take a seat on the plush tatami mats.
He didn't immediately join you; instead, he bypassed the table to shed his outer coat, hanging it up alongside yours before moving toward a small, private prep station built into the corner of the booth. Stripped down to his simple clothes, the sprawling veins across his forearms flexed as he washed his hands.
You couldn’t help yourself from watching the effortless way his muscles moved under his skin; a sudden, low pull of warmth stirred deep within your chest, a heavy and long-forgotten rhythm typing against your ribs as your eyes lingered on the solid strength of his back.
Yet, right alongside that quiet flare of heat, a wave of profound comfort settled over you. This was a man completely grounded in his craft. Unlike the chaotic, unstable experiences you had survived in your past life, Kaiza’s entire world was tangible, predictable, and sweet.
"I've been working on a five-course tasting menu inspired by my time in the Land of Fire's capital," he explained, his expressive dark eyes locking onto yours with undivided attention. "But tonight, you're only getting the centerpiece. A slow-braised duck with plum glaze and hand-pulled noodles."
"You're completely spoiling me, Kaiza," you teased, leaning your chin in your hand as you watched his precise, unhurried movements.
"That's exactly the plan," he replied smoothly, pouring you a small cup of warm, premium sake before setting a beautifully arranged plate in front of you.
As you took your first bite, the rich, savory flavors burst across your palate, perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the plum. You let out a quiet sigh of pure satisfaction, making Kaiza chuckle with genuine pride. He finally sat down across from you, pouring himself a cup of sake and folding his arms on the low table.
"You know, I’ve been thinking about how nice it's been going out with you," he said softly, taking a slow sip of his sake. “I’ve been enjoying our moments quite a lot”. His dark, expressive eyes didn't waver; they anchored you right to the spot with a quiet intensity.
The warmth of the sake burning down your throat paired with his directness made the low pull in your chest flare into something entirely undeniable. It had been years since you last shared a connection like this with anyone. Your last breakup had shattered your heart into a million jagged pieces; it had taken an immense amount of time to glue it all back together, forming a new fragile heart.
You couldn't lie and say you hadn't deeply enjoyed these last two months with Kaiza. Even when things were just a casual hookup, he was incredibly attentive; he made you feel thoroughly seen and desired. "It’s been the best part of my months too, Kaiza."
As he slid closer to you, his large frame instantly blocked out the rest of the room. When his broad hand reached out, his warm, soft thumb cupped your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his.
“Good.” That’s all he said before his lips closed the distance, warm and tasting faintly of sweet plum and premium sake.
The moment his mouth pressed into yours, that same stubborn, powerful spark fired deep within your brain; intoxicating, heavy rush of pure familiarity that left you momentarily breathless. Without your mind actively recognizing or being able to name the feeling, your body instantly melted into the sensation, your veins singing with the phantom memory of what it felt like to be completely consumed by a reckless and familiar passion. Your subconscious instinctively mapped this heat to a blueprint it already knew by heart; the precise, consuming way another man used to demand your space, your air, and your entire soul. It felt incredibly good to feel that specific, devastating fire again.
Kaiza let out a low, rough growl against your mouth, his large hand locking firmly around your waist to pull your weight completely into his body. His lips parted yours with a smooth, consuming hunger, his tongue tasting you deeply, almost capable of driving away every lingering thought of the outside world.
Your heart hammered a wild, frantic rhythm against your ribs; your hands slid up from his shirt to grip the broad muscles of his shoulders, your nails sinking slightly into his skin as the sheer intensity of the intimacy overwhelmed your senses. It had been a very long time since you had been held like this; without a countdown timer, without a hidden mask, and without the terrifying underlying fear of a sudden mission violently tearing him away from your side. Kaiza was entirely present in the heat of the moment, his mouth moving against yours with a raw, desperate possessiveness that left you completely breathless, melting every ounce of your resolve into the plush tatami mats beneath you.
author note: let me know what you guys think, I love reading comments as silly as they might be. ily 🤟🏻
